Santa’s Naughty List

(A late Christmas present for you. xx)

Jenny woke to a loud bang from downstairs. Adrenaline forced her into full wakefullness and she slid out of bed and retrieved the iron poker she kept under her bed for just such occassions. Creeping downstairs, she listened carefully, as much for her own footsteps as for anything beyond. There was a shuffling noise that sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. This was where the women in films always got it wrong by confronting their attacker, only to find themselves overpowered or facing some nightmare from the grave. She stopped, tried to calm her breathing and  then decided to do the sensible thing.

‘I’ve called the cops. I’m also armed. If you leave now, I’ll tell them it was my imagination. Take whatever you’ve got and go now,’ Jenny yelled. Silence. Perhaps she should go and call the police. She stood absolutely still and listened to her heartbeat for a full minute. Nothing. She should be sure. The police hated timewasters. Jenny crept down the rest of the stairs.

The kitchen was empty. The contents of the fridge were undisturbed. There were no footprints and the furniture was all where it was supposed to be. Of course, her purse was in the lounge. Perhaps the thief had gone to look in there. Jenny backed out of the kitchen, still half convinced someone might still be in there waiting for her to turn her back.

The hallway seemed to extend to infinity as she edged her way closer to the lounge door with her back to the wall. If there was anybody there the sound of her sliding along the wallpaper was a dead giveaway. Then again, whoever was in the lounge probably knew she lived there and was just waiting for her to step inside. Well, she’d surprise them yet.

Jenny kicked the lounge door open and screamed. That might even alert the neighbours, she thought. The door hit the wall and shuddered. Jenny felt around on the inside wall for the light switch and discovered that the lounge too was empty. She went in and sat down, her heart finally slowing down. Maybe what woke her was sound from next door. She was glad she had not bothered the police now. Back to bed then. Jenny left the lounge and hallway lights on. The house felt safer with the lights on.

Her bedroom was the only room with the lights still off. Padding back in barefoot, she stepped in something cold. There was snow on the floor. Jenny shrieked and fled. She ran straight into a reindeer. Winded, she stood there in shock. Her mind simply went blank but for the simply message, there’s a giant animal in my hall. It blew a great gout of steaming breath out and just stared at her.

‘He likes to be scratched behind his ears,’ a deep voice called out. Jenny turned and peered back into the dark bedroom, still in shock. There was a man dressed as Santa Claus laying on her bed. In her state of mind, the only thing that really seemed to register were his dirty, snow covered boots dripping water onto the end of her bed. Then she screamed.

‘Your neighbours are away for the weekend. Lucky for you really, as last night would have really woken them up. Surprised that the poor guy was walking today. Good work with the whip though, you could be a pro domme with handywork like that.’ Santa sucked on the cigar and blew a huge smoke ring.

Jenny stopped screaming and glared at the man dressed as Santa. ‘How the hell do you know about that?’ The man winked at her and blew a smaller smoke ring through the first. ‘He put you up to this? Nice try, but I stopped believing in Santa a long time ago. And your beard is pathetic. Dead give-way, no? On top of that it’s not even Christmas any more. Now, do I call the police or do you fuck off now?’

Santa tugged his beard and it regained a more traditional, fuller and fluffier appearance. ‘I didn’t realise I had to come in formal wear. There. What do you think now?’

Jenny was struck dumb. The man had become the face of Christmas. Recollection of an empty Christmas suddenly broke her silence. ‘You didn’t do much for Christmas this year did you? Bit late to come crawling around here to apologise.’

The cigar smoke rings formed frowning faces. Santa jabbed the glowing end of the cigar into his beard and it smoulder away, reverting back to his rougher white stubble. ‘Well, you see there’s toys and gifts for the kids that play nice. Then we have what I like to call the naughty list. Guess where you are.’

Blood flushed Jenny’s cheeks. ‘Naughty list? It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong.’

‘Wrong? No. Immoral? I’m not one to judge. Naughty? Let’s say that I only visit the ones who fit my personal definition of the term ‘naughty’. And just so you know, Santa did bring you a gift.’ He nodded towards the end of the bed and there was a long, flat oblong box. Jenny eyed it with suspicion.

‘If this is a joke, you are taking it way too far. If it’s not, then i’m still asleep.’ She reached for the package and bagan to rip the festive wrapping away. Opening the box inside revealed a long cane, spreader bar for her legs, and leather cuffs with ties that she already suspected would fit exactly to each of teh four corners of her bedframe. She turned back to Santa. While he was still laying where he was, his red bottoms were gone and he was naked from the waist down.

‘Your sack is showing.’ Jenny chuckled at herself. ‘Have to admit, it’s bloody huge.’

‘Haven’t you heard? Christmas only comes once a year.’ They both chuckled.

She took the cane from the box and used the tip of it to push his cock around so she could see it more clearly. It was a nice large, thick looking cock. It would probably be massive when he was erect. She gave it a little whack with the cane. Santa yelped. One by one, Jenny fastened the cuffs to the bedpost, and then put the man’s hands and feet into the leather loops and tightened them. Santa was chomping on his cigar and sporting a wide smile and, as she’d hoped, a huge erection.

‘Well, if Santa only comes once a year, we better make it a good one.’ Jenny eased her wet pussy over Santa’s rigid cock and eased its tip between her waiting lips. She sat still a moment, letting a shiver of pleasure run through her, then began to fuck him slowly. The cane and the spreader bar she’d use on him later. Some candles and pegs and the strap on
too.

‘You’re mine now, bad boy.’ Jenny pinched her nipples and began to sing. ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas….’

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The Shore

The ShoreDespite the best efforts of November, The Shore is now published on KDP. Click the picture to go through to the book page. It’ll cost you the pricely sum of 99 cents. Not even a dollar!

It’s based partly on real life events (I know both people the tale is based on and what really happened that day) . I’ll leave it up to the imagination of the reader to decide where real life stopped and my imagination took over. The water really was that cold though, and at least up until they get out of the water, all the spectators were there too.

The cover concept has been revised due to previous covers being filtered by Amazon. They’ve been filtering anything that shows any flesh. Maybe I went too far in toning things down. One observation has been that the cover looks like it might be literary rather than erotica. I was going to take the cover picture myself (this is a royalty free image with free permission to use) in which case I would have had a pile of clothes in the foreground. Otherwise I’m not sure I would have changed it much at all anyway.

I have to come think that a cover doesn’t need to ooze sex. What do you think?

NaNoWriMo Day 1

Sick

Barbara felt the familiar nudge of Frank’s penis in the small of her back. Not now, she thought, I’m sick. She pushed back sharply enough that she hoped he got the message.

‘Hey, you’re awake. I was just snuggling. Let me just work my way in there. Mmm..’

Frank’s penis nestled just beneath her buttocks. She knew what he intended next. The same thing almost every morning. Most of the time it was welcome. Sometimes it was just too early. This morning she was sick. It was his stupid cold she’d caught too. Barbara hoped he might have picked up on her reluctance and let herself drift back into sleep.

Wracking coughs woke her from an absurd dream. Her skin felt like fire. Frank’s body was actually cooling her down.

‘Wow. That felt amazing. you should do that when I’m inside you,’ Frank said.

‘What are you going on about?’

‘Your cough. Everything went tight. Your thighs squeezed like mad and everything was just solid.’

Barbara realised Frank’s penis was now pushed between her legs, pressing against both the cleft of her arse and pussy. Maybe she could just let him fuck her and sleep through it. Anything if he would just let her sleep. Suddenly her nose began to run and she flailed around for the pack of tissues she hoped were still somewhere around her pillow.

‘Frank, I’ve got your cold. Remember how bad you felt the last few days? That’s me now. Do you really think I want sex right now? Do you think I want slime coming out of me at both ends?’

‘Hey, if I would have had the energy, I would have fucked it out of me. That’s what you do with a cold. You don’t let it get a hold. You fuck it out. Fuck it out hard. Want me to do that to you. You’ll be up and around in no time. Daddy’s gonna fuck that cold clean out of you.’

‘You were on the sofa for three days straight, whining like a baby. You couldn’t get an erection when I stuck my hand in your jeans and searched for signs of life. Now I’ve got your cold. You can fuck yourself.’

Frank nuzzled in closer. ‘Seriously, an orgasm will make you feel better. It’s like eating chocolate.’

Barbara threw a punch behind her blindly. ‘Like you want to give me anything but a baby. Get lost Frank. Go to work or something. At least stick a condom on.’

Frank pushed himself between her pussy lips and started to gyrate slowly. ‘Why is it with a cold that you get all slimy up there but there’s still nothing down here?’ His finger came around and started to probe Barbara from the front.

‘You are all romance. Here. Let me help you.’ Barbara blew her nose directly into the palm of her hand, turning it into a sickly green mess. She showed her open palm to Frank, then pushed it between her legs and wiped it all over her pussy. ‘That’s how sick I am. If you really want to then go for it, finish quickly, and then let me sleep.’

Frank called her bluff and pushed inside her pussy. Barbara thought that after she had wiped her mucous down there that he’d be put off. He actually surprised her. The initial penetration was nice, but the cold still trumped everything and she felt too lousy to enjoy the anything. The condom was not that important either. Period was due any day. She just didn’t want the hassle of cleaning herself up after him.

The slow fuck became nice in the way that a morning stretch can be nice, but no more than that. Frank was careful and slow, but that meant he would take a while to come yet. Another bout of coughing left her throat feeling raw, and Frank moaning with pleasure.

‘Oh God, that almost made me come. If you could do that when I do, that would be amazing.’

Barbara coughed again. And again. Frank started to speed up. While that felt nicer, it also meant he was going to finish soon. Even sooner than she expected came the familiar moaning and bucking and thrusting. In a few moments he was finished. She had held her coughing off on purpose. Now she let loose again, her throat tickling more than ever. It still made him moan.

‘Now that’s medical. Some more of that and you’ll kick this cold in no time. Let me go and make some tea and then I’ll go again.’

‘You said you’d let me sleep. What about work? You’ll be late.’

‘Saturday, babe. That cold really scrambled your brains. Well, no worries, I’ll take care of you this weekend. Let me get some tea babe. Then I’ll give you another injection. Doctor’s orders!’ Frank laughed and jumped out of bed. The silence of his absence was like massage to her ears.

There was something about flying out of the bed and into a drainpipe full of seaweed and fish and then she realised she was dreaming. Knowing that, Barbara was able to nudge dream in a direction that took her flying down the pipe and suddenly over a field of wheat in the moonlight with a sky full of stars.

‘Tea!’

With a moment of dread she realised that Frank wasn’t just bringing her tea, he was announcing his presence for the entire weekend. She was captive in bed while the cold made her feel this bad. He stood there grinning like an idiot, holding two mugs of tea and sporting a new erection.

‘Thought I’d give you a couple of minutes to recover. I’ll put yours down just over here.’ Frank slid back into bed, pulled his knees up and sipped his tea. For a moment Barbara thought he was done and it was just a morning in bed, but no, he put his mug down and, spooning, started nuzzling her again.

‘Frank. FRANK. If you want me to feel better… I thought I was the one supposed to be getting an orgasm?’

‘What? Oh yeah. This time I promise. You know I sometimes shoot off a bit quickly the first time.’

And you get bored after the second time because you are a selfish asshole. ‘Go down on me. Make me come first Doctor. Then you can give me more medicine.’ Barbara tried to sound as sexy as she could with a blocked nose and a throbbing headache.

‘But I just came. And you put a handful of snot down there? That’s so gross. Give me one of those tissues.’

Barbara held up the empty tissue packet. ‘If the doctor wants to inject any more medicine, the doctor will clean it up.’

The Doctor bumped his way under the duvet and blankets and nestled his head between Barbara’s thighs. She shifted so he could get his face right in there and then waited for him to start. At least he was good to his word and started to lick and kiss her pussy without any more complaint. She listened to the sound of his breathing. It was still hampered by the cold. He might be feeling better but his nose was still blocked. She listened to the rhythm of his breathing and waited a moment longer. Then she clenched her thighs. With his breath exhausted, Frank passed out in seconds. It served him right. Barbara nudged his head out of the way, made herself comfortable and fell back to sleep.

How Much??? (part one)

The two most common complaints leveled at short form erotica (short stories to you and me) are that they are too expensive for what they are, and that the quality is too poor.

I received my first ‘It’s too expensive’ message yesterday. It was not actually part of an Amazon review, just a message from what looks like a fakeish account (and just a porn collector) from Tumblr. I doubt the sender bought anything, just looked at the $2.99 price and the length of the stories and made the comment to be ‘helpful’.

When it comes to pricing (and especially my pricing), there are a variety of forces at play here.

First, how much effort does it actually take?

There was that writing thing, then the first edit, my partner proof read it, then I made changes during the second edit. Then I had to format it for submission to the Kindle, create a cover, upload it all, and a final visual proof of the Kindle version online. Finally, write the blurb for the book entry on Amazon.

Oh, and then add it to my WordPress blog and Tumblr, and announce it on my Facebook page. I haven’t even started any real marketing of anything beyond trying to get a few people to read my Twitter, Facebook, Tumblrs, and WordPress blog. That’s just a value added extra effort on top of the actual writing and publishing side of things.

It can take a working day. It can take a lot less, and I can clearly see from the dreadful quality of some stories that have passed my way, that a lot of people don’t edit or proof read, and leave any grammar and spell checking to Word. However, I like to keep the quality of my work as high as I can, so each story, from conception to publishing, takes roughly a complete working day. And I charge $2.99 for that. Yes, it could sell a million copies but we both know it will not. At my going rate for commercial work in my main line of employment, I would have to sell quite a few hundred copies to earn equal remuneration.

All in all, it’s not a small venture, even for a short story. My first erotic short, Last Night in Berlin, does come in on the short side even by my own estimation. However, it still has a start, middle, and an end. It has sex. It is a complete erotic short story.  And to read it costs less than the cost of a beer.

Second, the price of beer. I judge my own disposable expenditure level by the cost of beer. In the UK the price of a beer in a bar or pub is around £3-4. Anything priced below that I class as a disposable purchase, something that is essentially a throw away purchase. After all, once you’ve drunk that beer it’s gone.

Third, blame Amazon. Amazon’s pricing structure means that at $2.99 and above I get a whopping 70% royalty. Below $2.99 and I get a measly 30%. To put that into a nice easy to view sum, selling 5 copies at $2.99 makes $10.50.  Just one cent less at $2.98, I would have to sell 12 to make around the same sum. At the very common price point of $1, I would need to sell 33 copies. I am sure Amazon have their reasons for the gouging at lower price levels. I’m not sure what they are, but they must have them.

Were Amazon willing to simply have a flat 70% rate it would give sellers much more leeway in their ability to price their works and try to make a reasonable profit from their hard work.

And finally, just because XYZ gives their 200,000 word full length novel away for a $1 does not mean that all other works should be priced relative to that. My work is my work, and I price it accordingly. I am quite sure that in time I will drop various items to $1 and probably do promotions where you can get books for free. But right now I do not. and that’s fine for me, and fine for anybody else who wants to put their work on Amazon or anywhere else.

French Lessons

ImageFrench Lessons is up and available. I have to admit the title is a little cliched, but it came after a dozen or so attempts at changing it from the original concept which involved an adult brother and sister relationship. Also a browse across the Internet for the various interpretations of Amazon’s Content Guidelines hinted very strongly at a large number of words being disallowed or getting the story filtered. So ‘French Lessons’ it is.

The title is actually the first working title I gave it a couple of years ago when I wrote the original (and very different) version. That read like a bad theater production and is better left undisturbed.

The story is a based on a mix of two real events. One recounted from a girlfriend who had a sexual encounter with two brothers. The other was twenty years ago when me and my friends were working as Au-pairs for various families in Surrey. However, It is a work of fiction, and not even the names needed to be changed to protect the not so innocent.

I hope you enjoy reading it.

R.M. xx

Lingering

The damp patch on the bed sheet is the last of my dream. A love heart from between my legs. I trace my fingers around it, wishing you were mixed in. My partner wakes, showers, returns. Fingers glide through my hair. We fuck. He comes. I don’t. He dresses, kisses, leaves. I wish you were between my legs. Finally, you make me come.