Sunday, June 7, 2015

Review of Fanny Hill by Cleland

Review of Fanny Hill by Cleland

But she never beat anyone to death?


Aside from this wonderful French addition I just spotted, the covers for Fanny Hill are all so ridiculously boring.

Indexed (well, not Pius IV, but whatever)

Banned smut is my favorite fashion of smut. If your work has been blacklisted, then I am a fan. Of course, Fanny Hill: Memoirs Of A Woman of Pleasure is redolent in this charge. The work has been abused by parochial souls, dragged through puritan circumspect, called out and sinned against by one moral majority after another. Mr. J. Cleland knew something of the Orient, but, alas, this makes no appearance in this novel. Maybe I do wish to critique the writer. I shall do so but for, let us hope, the right reasons—none of which have anything to do with that ugly puritanism that has for so long shortened the sights of Occidental fuckery.

I have enjoyed this novel very much. I only read it last week. Though I’ve known about, known of, this story for some time, I only downloaded it on my Kindle recently.

The plot is one of “corruption.” A beautiful theme if done correctly, corruption means here that some young female thing falls from stupid innocence to gutter-sucking puss-buggery. The hit-and-love dimension of my perfect soul is much angered that the teenage girl character, our Fanny, never learns the joy in blood-wet sex. Despite Fanny’s first encounters of the flesh being sapphist (and here Cleland does well), the silly tart never rams her forearm up anyone’s bunghole. The feminist in me cannot do without a binge of anal-boy rape. To shame, Cleland, to shame.

No Sex in Your Violence (yes, yes, and I've gotta machine head as well)

To an honest appraisal I conduct this swath of tilted letters. Damn the French, damn de Sade, from whom I've stolen my name. You’ve soured my brain to anything but what I want most now these days. No joy, let alone ecstasy, is really permissible without physical or mental, that is, all physiological really, destruction...

The language itself is a treat; I can easily grant this. So much smut today is smut because it is shit. It is smut for the wrong reasons. It doesn’t even attempt perversion. Big, overzealous, perfidious, pestiferous diction is what I love. And, on occasion, Cleland’s “machines” (what a wonderful moniker for a ribald penis, no?) are wordsmith-worthy. At the very least, having composed this in the 18th century means that, by default, the language is already scrumptious—the English language. Nothing about this pornography in prose of Cleland has anything even remotely American about it.

Highly Recommended

Oh, and I did mention the Orient above because the writer spent some time on the subcontinent. This was when Mumbai was Bombay and colonialism was still profitable.

In conclusion, I recommend that you consume Fanny Hill when wearing your dress, the summer dress that flaps about in the wind and is easily turned up. I did rub myself. This is smut, English smut. A minx in mind is a minx in heart is a minx in thought and dreams and soul and spirit. Yes, ignore my sad sadist reservations.

Fanny Hill is a treat and one that is to be enjoyed for the ages.



Love always, -V. de S.




Friday, May 15, 2015

Galactic Butt Plug 1

The Galactic Butt Plug, Part 1

This is a glimpse of the first installment of The Galactic Butt Plug story, part of the Erotic Sci-Fi Tales of Yore series.




Fèn was an incorrigible fucktard of the first galactic degree. When Musi died soon after Fèn’s fifteenth birthday, the man-child Fèn hardly noticed. He did notice, however, that during his mother’s period of mourning, she tended to shower less.
Fèn confronted his mother one afternoon, “Do you never bathe now, mother? Should you rather stink like a space weasel of Himfeltalt than perchance occasionally flower my nostrils with some pleasant scent of star-kissed soap?”
Fèn’s mother admitted that she was a wreck these days and did not have the energy to do things like keep up her physical appearance.
“Then let thy son led thee a soapy hand,” said Fèn, pushing his mother toward the washroom.
Fèn’s mother resisted at first. But Fèn convinced her that now that father was as dead as a space worm, Fèn was the male humanoid of the house. By all rights that are accorded to the eldest male of any household in this quadrant of the Xizân Empire and by their faith in Lord Rahh and His Excellent and Infinite Black Hole at the center of their universe, Fèn’s word was law.
The widow of Musi allowed her son to peel back her space robes. Being a poor family, she only worn rags; these were tossed into a corner meanly.
Fèn’s eyes rested on his mother’s unctuous breasts. He made a silent prayer to Lord Rahh and then turned his mother around to gaze on her backside. Her figure was slender for the most part, with only hints of having once given humanoid childbirth. Fèn wished to fondle her ass cheeks but held himself back. He of course knew every curve of his mother’s figure well, having spied on her innumerable times. But with her completely nude in front of him now and within fondling distance was a completely new experience for the virgin Fèn. How he had dreamt of caressing her every fold of skin in days past.
Fèn could feel a small erection rising under his space robes. He nudged closer to his mother and placed his tenting, turgid, though still covered, cock on her back. Did she know that this was her only son’s penis now digging into her backside? The thought made Fèn wild with excitement.
Fèn pushed his mother into the shower capsule and turned on the water jets.
The teenage humanoid boy wondered to himself if he should disrobe and join her. He looked down at his hard-on. Fèn felt like he would explode. He had to do something to release the building sensation. Fèn wanted to attack his bathing mother, now soapy and slippery and wet and ever-so inviting, standing there in the shower capsule, hair full of shampoo, eyes closed to her son’s perversion, hands kneading a month’s worth of dirt out of her lovely body!
Fèn could contain himself no further. Right as he opened the... [...continue here...]











May our slits drip, our cocks swell, and our anuses billow!

Love from afar, 
-V de S




Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Review of Satanskin by Havoc

Review of Satanskin by Havoc




We’ve all heard of some authors being described as “a writer’s writer.” James Havoc, a pen name, deserves some type of title like “an erotic’s erotic” or “a sadist’s sadist” or, perhaps less eloquently, an “erotic writer’s erotic writer.” The twenty-one short stories found within Satanskin are brimming with vampiric, cum-filled, literary, child-brain-rape insanity. Don’t feel perturbed if you have to grab your OED more than once.
I would like to party with Mr. Havoc. Though, like me, he’s probably pretty boring in real life. I heard through the grapevine that he moved to Bangkok, Thailand. There is a BDSM scene there. 
What wonderfully colorful prose this stud writer can compose though! I’ve never read anything that is so sexually vivid. Let me quote some of this tasty smut. From my favorite chapter/story on Devil’s Gold:
“In dreams, Gillespie wanders sodden, hermaphrodite corridors, halls that resonate with the melancholy of outcast animal kings. He conjures forth and preens an eight mouthed ululating penis, unleashes tulpas from the folds of his scrotum, drag cold reluctant somatic formations from occult slits. Cephalopods. He caresses his breasts on a throne of bones, while eunuchs swing in the void.”
Do you enjoy whisky?
This is how best to consume Havoc’s prose. Allow yourself only to open this terrible terrible book later in the evening, not after midnight, but sometime before. Turn off all the lights except one, something shaded and halogen; avoid the candles cuz those are kitsch as hell. Have a bottle of single-malt Scotch whisky (should be $100 over or not worth it) on the table next to you. Savor your first drink for some minutes and then pour a second. Open Havoc’s bestial monograph to a start of a new chapter. Now enjoy. If you need music salting the air sweetly behind you, consider something on vinyl and of the chamber, the more piano the better. Your hand will soon be reaching toward your flowery vagina: Drip, drip, drip, after awkwardly yummy drip. Restrain yourself to only one chapter an evening.
And, indeed, this is the point—the orgasmic tip of it all. I do classify this as a piece of erotica. Why? Because anything that makes me wish to rub my clit is erotic, if not erotica, for me. Not unlike the great de Sade, Havoc will having you thinking and rethinking the ethics of your enjoyment of such tales. But of course this is what makes it all so riveting. The cerebral must be violated in the same way as all the usual orifices for a true libertine aficionado. 
Yes, read Havoc's SatanskinCome home to me Mr. Havoc. I have a bed waiting for you in Kansas!








Saturday, March 21, 2015

Anal Space Slaves from the Void

Anal Space Slaves from the Void

I feel like polluting our universe with some free smut. The third full story in the Erotic Sci-Fi Tales of Yore series is yours to read, download, and enjoy for free! Love you all, - Virginia de Sade




If you would like a PDF version of this terrible story, click here. A paperback version can be found here. Otherwise feel free to enjoy the below. 


* * * * * * *

The Paressii Empire was well known throughout the Triangulum Galaxy for two things: Paressiian wine and the libertine nature of its subjects. The king of this realm of thirty-eight star systems was Zemanshãh. In the capital city of Balasmar on the capital planet of Baxium, King Zemanshãh was well known for his tirades of lust. Like their galactic neighbors of the Lücrezian Empire and the twin star system of Himfeltalt, the humanoids of the Paressii Empire were believers of the word of the early space Profit Élouraz concerning the greatest deity ever known of Lord Rahh of the black hole of the universe. Nothing was said to please Lord Rahh more than licentious sacrifice.
Despite King Zemanshãh’s insatiable love of fornication, he had never had a child. King Zemanshãh’s childlessness bothered him dearly. Often he would grief. His greatest concern was that he had no male humanoid heir to take over the Paressii Empire after his death.
King Zemanshãh was nearing his eight-hundredth year. Since most Paressiian men lived no longer than the age of seven-hundred years, many subjects of that empire were troubled that their monarch was also living on borrowed time.
One morning, King Zemanshãh sat atop his throne at his palace at Balasmar on planet Baxium. The King was ruminating over his long life. King Zemanshãh wondered to himself why after raping over a half of the humanoid women of his empire had he not had any children.
A space servant ran into the King’s throne room.
King Zemanshãh looked up from his throne and inquired what the servant wanted.
“O my lord, at the door is a space slave-girl with a merchant from the Chemiaz Federation,” reported the servant. “None more beautiful than she hath been seen.”
King Zemanshãh replied, “Bring to me the merchant and the slave-girl.”
The trader from the Chemiaz Federation and the space slave-girl were brought before the King.
King Zemanshãh was immediately struck by the beauty of the little tart slave-girl. She was slender and small, like some Paressiian doll. The space slave-girl’s hair was a gray and her skin of a dark red hue.
The space merchant removed the cloth covering the slave-girl’s face. She was incredibly attractive and her countenance was both inviting and sorrowful at the same time. King Zemanshãh wanted to see the rest of her figure.
Without asking the merchant permission, the King descended from his throne and walk up to the space slave-girl. King Zemanshãh smiled at the female. He placed his hands over her breasts. She was essentially flat-chested, but this did not make the King think her any less attractive. Small breasts were a fetish of his of late.
King Zemanshãh undid the buttons holding up the slave-girl’s top. Now nude from the navel up, the King had a full view of her perky, though smallish tits. The King leant over and began to lick at the space slave-girl’s titties. She immediately quicken the pace of her breath. King Zemanshãh guessed that this space hussy of a slave was aroused. The King felt his own royal penis begin to throb.
The space merchant observed this scene quietly at first. But now that he saw that the King of the Paressii Empire was pitching a stately tent in his trousers, the space trader realized that this was his chance to really make a sale.
The space merchant undid the King’s pants. A turgid, ribald cock flopped out. The merchant stroked the royal penis. He looked up at the King still engrossed in licking the space slave-girl’s chest.
As the slave-girl began to moan the color of her skin lightened from dark red to whitish pink.
The space merchant jumped up, grabbed the slave-girl by the back of her head, and positioned her in front of King Zemanshãh’s cock.
King Zemanshãh craned his neck toward the stars and cried, “Wine! I require Paressiian wine!!”
Immediately a servant appeared before the threesome with a tray of wine and sweets.
The King impatiently grabbed at a bottle of Paressiian wine. He ripped off the top with his teeth and proceeded to pour the bottle of wine over his and his visitors’ bodies. The power of Paressiian wine, of course, lies in its ability to be consumed through the skin. There is no better known aphrodisiac in the Triangulum Galaxy.
With the space merchant still holding the slave-girls head at the crotch of King Zemanshãh, he looked up at the King greedily. Surely he was to get a good price for this space slut.
The space slave-girl let her mouth be entirely filled with the King’s large, veiny penis. She worked her tongue expertly.
King Zemanshãh could no longer hold back his royal orgasm. The King blew a load of ardent, sticky semen into the space slave-girl’s maw. Some yellowish cock-juice dibbled down her pink chin and fell on the floor. The space girl moved to lick up all and any cum, even the drops that had fallen near the King’s feet.
Exhausted, the King fell backwards into his throne. He glared at the space merchant from the Chemiaz Federation.
“O intergalactic trader, for how much is this slutty damsel to be sold?” asked the King.
The space merchant answered: “O my lord, I purchased her for two thousand crystal bars of galactic money from the merchant who owned her before me, and I have been for three years travelling with her, and she hath cost, to the period of her arrival at this place, three thousand crystal bars of galactic money; and she is a present from me unto thee.”
King Zemanshãh was pleased that the merchant was making the slave-girl a present to him. Yet the King also knew he should reward the space merchant.
“Whence does such a whorish treat as this hail?” questioned the King. “By the dark-red color of her complexion, I should guess she is from Himfeltalt.”
“My lord’s intelligence doth not disappoint,” replied the space merchant. “She is indeed from that magical space realm of Himfeltalt.”
The space merchant did not really know from where the space slut came. He only cared for whatever reward the King of Paressii might bestow. He waited with baited breath.
King Zemanshãh gave the space merchant a space robe, one that conferred a special royal honor upon the trader. The King also presented him ten-thousand crystal bars of galactic money.
The space merchant kissed the hands of King Zemanshãh, thanking him, and then proceeded to leave the planet of Baxium on his scrambike as quickly as possible.
King Zemanshãh looked over his new property and was not disappointed with the purchase.
The King called over another servant woman, saying to her, “Amend the state of this slutty damsel, and deck her, and furnish for her a private chamber, and take her into it.”
King Zemanshãh gave orders to the other servants and chamberlains that everything should be provided for this space slave-girl. He had a new wing built onto his palace at Balasmar just for his new space minx. The King already had the idea of making her a royal mistress of the highest order.
After resting for some bit, King Zemanshãh again wished to visit his new space mistress. He reminded himself that he had only inserted his royal cock into her mouth at this point. Surely, he thought, she had other orifices that needed pummeling as well.
The King entered the slave-girl’s new quarters. She did not rise to great him or take any notice of him at all.
“It seemeth that she hath been with people who have not taught her good manners,” said King Zemanshãh.
The King looked over her from the door. He could not get over the fact of how beautiful this space hussy was. She was prettier than a shining quasar star in the dark of night. As he wondered at her beauty, the King made a prayer to Lord Rahh.
King Zemanshãh approached the slave girl and sat next to her. He leant in and stole a kiss from her lips. It was sweet, like Paressiian honey. Her dark-reddish skin was attractive to this man from the Paressii Empire. On only a few occasions had he met a space female from the Himfeltalt twin star systems. He wondered if she knew any dark space magic.
The slave-girl continued her blank look and made no recognition of having received the King’s royal kiss. It was if the space was girl deaf or dumb or blind.
King Zemanshãh laid her on her back and began to explore her body in greater detail with his hands. He called over one of his space servants to remove the slave-girl’s space robes. When fully nude the King lay his hand first on her face and then slowly let them slide down her body. He cupped her smallish dubs in his hands before kissing both tits, one after the other, smiling. The King guessed that the tart was around sixteen or seventeen years old. In all his eight-hundred years of existence, he wondered why he had never seen a space girl as sweet as this one.
King Zemanshãh worked his way down to her labia. He tongued at the outer vagina. Her crotch was of a lighter shade of red, almost a pink, compared to the rest of her skin. The King inserted his tongue deeper into her twat.
One of the other chamberlains undid the King’s pants. Like earlier, a chunky royal-sized cock unfurled forth for everyone in the room to witness.
The King feathered the slave-girl’s legs with his burgeoning erection. He let the tip of his penis drag from her hip down to her feet and up to her hip again. When the cock was turgid with pent up lust, the King hit her feet with it. Taping one foot after the other, King Zemanshãh enjoyed a bit of a foot job, tickling the top of the slave-girl’s toes with the end of his penis.
Still the slave-girl acted as though she was not there in the room with King Zemanshãh. Her mind was somewhere else. Her eyes drifted toward the horizon lazily, coolly.
Something about the slave-girl’s disinterest in everything about her aroused the King greatly.
His erection went from hard to harder to space-crystal-rock hard. The King brought his cock up to the slave-girl’s pubis.
Before he could penetrate, King Zemanshãh’s penis spat forth a barrel-sized load of royal semen. The white, viscous, gummy cum blasted against the space whore’s unguarded twat.
Annoyed that he could not finish inside the slave-girl, the King took out his pleasure saber and shoved it in past her vulva. He hoped that some of the fresh semen would be pushed in along with his dildo pleasure weapon.
King Zemanshãh fell to the side of the slave-girl and laughed to himself: “Extolled be the perfection of Lord Rahh, the Creator of this damsel and her star-kissed cunt! How elegant is she, saving that she doth not speak!”
King Zemanshãh turned toward the other servants in the room. He asked them is she had spoken anything to them.
One of them answered, “From the time of her arrival to the present moment she hath not spoken one word, and we have not heard her talk.”
The King requested that the other servants think of ways to entertain the slave-girl. Some sang Paressiian songs of love and Lord Rahh’s Infinite Bunghole. Others thought of jokes. Others still tried to encourage the space slave-girl to play games.
The slave-girl neither laughed nor showed any disapproval. Her face was a cool sangfroid. Her whole bearing flittered in perfect disinterest. Her manner held an unequaled equipoise.
This unmatched equanimity did not, however, overly upset the King. It was not before long that this particular space slave-girl became his favorite consort.
For over a year, the King and the slave-girl played this game of one-way intercourse. King Zemanshãh was always the side of over-excited fuckery—a never-ending scintillation of caddish lust. The slave-girl always received these blow of libidinosity without a word.
In short, he loved to fuck and the slave-woman took it in anally as coolly as she did vaginally.
One day King Zemanshãh said to her:
“O desire of souls, verily the love that I have for thee is great, and I have relinquished for thy sake all my galactic portion, and been patient with thee a whole year. I beg Lord Rahh that His Asshole will, in His Buggering Grace, soften thy heart toward me, and that thou mayest speak to me. Or, if thou be dumb, inform me by a sign, that I may give up hope of thy speaking. I also beg of Lord Rahh that His Asshole will bless thee with a son that may inherit my kingdom after me; for I am solitary, having none to be my heir, and my age hath become great. I conjure thee, then, by Lord Rahh, if thou love me, that thou return me a reply.”
The space slave-girl appeared as if she was to say nothing to the Kings’s lamentations. She looked toward the ground, shook her head, and for once, finally acknowledged the King’s presence.
The slave-girl smiled at King Zemanshãh of the Paressii Empire.
She broke her year-long silence. The space slave-girl spoke:
“O magnanimous King, Lord Rahh hath answered thy prayer; for I am about to bring thee a child, and the time is almost come. And were it not that I knew this thing, I had not spoken to thee one word,”
The King jumped up into the air in joy. He could not believe what had just been told to him.
“Praise be to Lord Rahh who hath favoured me with things that I desired; the first, thy speaking; and the second, thy information that thou art about to bring me a child,” said King Zemanshãh.
Overcome with incalculable happiness, the King rushed from his mistress’s private chambers to his throne hall to proclaim the good news. He had Sir Novnov, his chief minister, let out a general proclamation that all the citizens of Balasmar are to come to his palace gates immediately and perform a nation-wide orgy in praise and thanks for Lord Rahh’s benevolence. He instructed Novnov to keep the sex party warm and alive until he would have time to show up later.
King Zemanshãh returned to the chambers of the space slave-woman.
The King asked the girl, “O my slutty mistress, wherefore hath been this silence, seeing that thou hast been with me a whole year, awake and asleep, in sex and in sodomy, yet hast not spoken to me, except on this day after I blew semen in your navel for fun?”
The slave-girl answered, “Hear, O sex-loving King of the age, and know that I am a poor person, a stranger, broken-hearted: I have become separated from my mother, and my family, and my brother Hâles.”
King Zemanshãh embraced his minx-lover slave.
He replied, “As to thy saying that thou art poor, there is no occasion for such an assertion; for all my space kingdom and possessions are at thy service, and as to thy saying, ‘I have become separated from my mother and my family and my brother’—inform me in what place they are, and I will send to them, and bring them to thee.”
The space slave-girl said:
“Know, O King, that my name is Grenade of the Void, located in the space between the twin star systems of Himfeltalt. My father was one of the kings of the Void, and he died, and left to us the kingdom; but while we were enjoying it, another of the space kings came upon us, and took the kingdom from our hands. I have also a brother named Hâles, and my mother is of a women of the Void.
“Once, I quarreled with my brother for he was a poor in love making. Never could Hâles stimulate my twat and my space clitoris in the manner I liked. I swore that I would throw myself into the hands of a man of the inhabitants of any space kingdom outside of Himfeltalt to punish my brother for his sexual ineptitude.
“Accordingly I came forth from the Void, and sat upon the docking area of a well-traversed deep space station in Himfeltalt. And there passed by a humanoid on a scrambike from the Xizân Empire who took me and sold me to the Chemiazian space trader from whom thou tookest me. This last space merchant from the Chemiaz Federation was an excellent, virtuous man, a person of religion and fidelity and kindness and sexual prowess. Often would the Chemiazian space merchant play with my vagina in a way that pleased me greatly. He was a believer of Lord Rahh and His Infinite Butthole at the center of the universe. But thinking back to the trade he made with thee, I feel even more fortunate now to be with thee.
“Had not thy royal cock loved me, and hadst thou not preferred me above all thy trampy wives, I had not remained with thee one hour; for I should have stolen a scrambike from the palace space garage and traveled back into the deep of space, back to the Void, and gone to my mother and my people. I was ashamed, however, to go to them; for they would imagine evil of me, and would not believe me, even though I should swear to them, were I to tell them that a king had purchased me with his galactic money, and chosen me in preference to his other space wives and all that his right hand possessed. This is my story, and peace be on thy rectum!”
King Zemanshãh again thanked her and kissed her small breasts.
He said, “By Lord Rahh, O my mistress of the Void, and light of my eyes, I cannot endure separation from thee for one hour; and if thou quit me, I shall die instantly. How then shall the affair be?”
The slave-girl Grenade answered, “O my butt-banging master, the time of the birth is near, and my family must come from the Void to visit.”
“And how,” said the King, “can I convince a red-skinned humanoid from Himfeltalt to visit us here in the Paressii Empire? Do not your kind distrust space travelers from outside your twin star systems?”
“They shall travel hither if I command them so. For they are sure to miss their favorite daughter. Believe us not to be so haughty. Though it is true that our dark lust-space magic is the most powerful in the Triangulum Galaxy, even we wish to spread open our legs and our butt cheeks to astronauts from without our realm.
“Furthermore, O King, when my family and my brethren come, I will inform them that thou boughtest me with thy galactic money, and hast treated me with beneficence and ripe fuckings, and it will be seen that thou confirm my assertion to them. They will also see thy state with their eyes, and will know that thou art a king, the son of a king.”
“O my piss-drinking mistress, do what seemeth fit to thee, and what thou wishest; for I will comply with thy desire in all that thou wilt do,” returned the King.
“Know, O King of the age, that we fly through the Void without the help of scrambikes or other spacecraft, and see what is in it, and we see the planets, and the moons, and the stars, and the universe as from a unique vantage point, and this hurteth us not. Know also, that in the Void are many humanoids and various forms of all the kinds that are also to be found in other quadrants of the galaxy; and know, moreover, that all that is of the Paressii Empire, in comparison with what is in the Void—though the Void appear small—is indeed a much smaller matter than that of the infinity of space and time within the Void of Himfeltalt.”
King Zemanshãh had to admit to himself that he did not understand half of what his mistress Grenade said. The King only really understood that from the price of this space slave-girl, he had gotten the bargain of the millennium.
Grenade was already nude from that morning’s romp with the King. She lay her back on the King’s bed and spread her legs. She also spread her hands away from her body, so that she looked like a five-pointed star.
“Pleasure me, O King,” commanded the slave-girl. “If I climax now, I shall be able to issue forth a dark spell of space magic and open up a portal through space and time from the Void to this very bedchamber.”
Grenade closed her eyes and waited for King Zemanshãh to play with her dark-reddish body.
King Zemanshãh placed his hands over Grenade’s crotch. He rubbed her labia majora and tickled her pinkish clit. The space slave-girl did not seem to be aroused. The King wondered how best to proceed. He acknowledged to himself that he had never once tried to make his space mistress have a proper orgasm. The King had only ever been interested in his own spilling of seed.
King Zemanshãh thought of using his pleasure saber when he suddenly struck upon a more novel idea.
The King called one of his many male servants to the bed. He asked the servant if they had any pink space leopards in the royal kennel. He ordered that the boy bring a tomcat leopard.
The servant soon returned with a gigantic pink space leopard.
Just as the King suspected, once the pink space leopard had entered the bedchamber and espied the open twat of a female, it began to tussle with the boy servant holding on to its leash.
The power of the horny space pink leopard was too much for the boy to constrain. The space feline reverted back to its wild state. Its fluffy, pink cat penis stood erect and ready to penetrate any hole. The pink space leopard roared, snapping the leash in two.
The creature jumped upon the royal bed and tackled the space slave-girl. It immediately found Grenade’s open pussy. After a quick sniff, the pink space leopard rammed its kitty cock into slave-girl’s slutty womb.
Grenade moaned in heavenly delight. This bout of bestial lechery seemed to be having the intended affect. Grenade’s body rolled in waves of desire and pleasure.
King Zemanshãh worried that this may not be enough to make his whore-mistress cum. The King saw from the corner of his eye that the boy servant was waiting near the door and the young lad appeared to have formed a healthy-looking erection.
The King called the servant over. He pulled out the boy’s cock, flicked it a few times to make sure that was of sufficient turgidity, and commanded that he bugger the pink space leopard. The boy did as was ordered and mounted the tomcat leopard from behind.
The pink space leopard growled in delight and pummeled Grenade’s dripping pussy with greater furiousness.
The bestial threesome soon became violent. The pink space leopard’s cock had expanded and was now fully stuck within the walls of Grenade’s cunt, so that every thrust of the ravenous tomcat caused the slave-girl’s body to move with it. The pink space leopard clawed at Grenade’s chest, tearing apart her smallish tits. The blood of the Himfeltalt girl spattered about the royal bed, covering the space leopard, the servant boy, and the King in good measure.
Such as the pink space leopard was about to fire its load of kitty semen inside the slave-girl’s sweaty cunt, Grenade let out a horrendous scream of infinit pleasure.
The pink space leopard unloaded its hot and humid cat cum inside the King’s mistress at the same time that the boy servant injected a stream of plebian seed into the space leopard’s furry ass-flower. The King, also aroused to an unusually high degree, ran up to his sex slave-girl and projected a few drops of decrepit semen from his own erection onto Grenade’s contorted face.
The pink space leopard fell dead to its own bestial orgasm, its cock still stuck in Grenade’s twat. The King had the boy servant pull away the dead cat and exit the room.
Grenade slowly opened her eyes and smiled at King Zemanshãh.
Looking through the mess of blood and semen covering her vision, she said to the King:
“O my lord, now that I have had a rich orgasm, arise and conceal thyself in a closet, that I may show thee my brother and my mother and my family without their seeing thee; for I desire to bring them through a temporal portal from the Void, and thou shalt see in this place, at this time, a wonder, and shalt marvel at the various shapes and strange forms that Lord Rahh hath created.”
King Zemanshãh arose immediately. He placed his royal penis back in his trousers and rushed to the nearest closest, leaving a crack open to see what was to transpire.
Grenade mumbled some Himfeltalt space magic spells.
Slowly a humanoid figure began to take shape next to Grenade on the bed. Like the space slave-girl, the male figure had dark-red skin and long flowing gray hair. He was tall and thin and almost looked like a perfect identical twin of Grenade. The King surmised that this was her older brother Hâles.
The male figure recited some verses of ancient Himfeltalt when he recognized his sister:
The moon’s vagina becometh perfect once in each month; but the loveliness of thy twat is perfect every day.
Its abode is in the jizz of one sign at a time; but thine abode is in all jizz at once.
After this, six more humanoid figures took shape on the King’s bed. All were female, all were of a dark-red shade. The oldest of the women was grizzly-haired. The five younger females were similar in appearance to Grenade. They all embraced the space slave-girl in joy and in doing so were covered with the yet-to-dry leopard and humanoid semen and blood covering Grenade’s naked body.
The grandmotherly woman spoke, “O Grenade, how is it that thou leavest us for four years from the Void, and we know not the place in which thou art? By Lord Rahh, we had no delight in food nor in drink a single day, neither did we delight in fellatio nor clitoral play, weeping night and day on account of the excess of our longing to see thee.”
Tears quickly came to the eyes of Grenade. She kissed the hands of her mother. She begged for forgiveness from all those people on the bed: her mother, her brother, and her five younger sisters. They wanted to know how and why she had strayed so far from the Void that lies between the twin star systems of Himfeltalt.
Grenade explained:
“Know ye, that when I quitted you, and came forth from the Void, I sat upon the docks of a deep space station, and a man from Xizân took me, and sold me to a Chemiazian space merchant, and the merchant brought me to this city of Balasmar on the planet of Baxium, and sold me to its king for ten thousand crystal bars of galactic money. Then he treated me with attention, and forsook all his favorites for my sake, and was diverted by his regard for me from everything that he possessed and what was in his palace city.”
Grenade’s brother Hâles responded immediately, “Praise be to Lord Rahh who hath reunited us! But it is my desire, O my sister, that thou wouldst arise and go with us to our country in Himfeltalt and our family in the Void.”
King Zemanshãh was startled to hear the brother of Grenade.
The King worried that his slutty mistress might do as Hâles commanded and leave him forever. He could not imagine what he would do if Grenade, who was still with humanoid child, were to leave him now.
Grenade smiled at Hâles as if he were a child. She said:
“By Lord Rahh, O my brother, the astronaut who purchased me is the king of this city, and he is a great king, and a man of wisdom, generous, of the utmost libertinage. He hath treated me with honor and played my pussy like a space flute, and he is a person of kindness, and of great wealth, but hath no male child nor a female. He hath shewn me favor too, and acted well to me in every respect; and from the day when I came to him to the present time, I have not heard from him a word to grieve my heart; but he hath not ceased to treat me with anal courtesy, and I am living with him in the most perfect of lust-filled enjoyments.
“Moreover, if I quitted him, my king would perish: for he can never endure my separation even for a single hour. I also, if I quitted him, should die of my physical desire for him in consequence of his kindness to me during the period of my residence with him; for if my father were living, my condition with him would not be like my condition with this great, glorious king. Forget not that thou never were able to please my erogenous zones, O brother.
“Lord Rahh, whose Butthole be exalted, afflicted me not, but compensated me well; and as the King hath not a male child nor a female, I begged Lord Rahh to bless me with a humanoid son or hermaphrodite that may inherit of this great King these palaces and possessions by way of a stout and princely space cock.”
All the relations of Grenade took turns embracing her nude body after she made this speech. All felt some bit of joy as they looked upon their naked kin.
The mother said, “O Grenade, thou art acquainted with our affection for thee, and thou art assured that thou art the dearest of all persons to us, and art certain that we desire for thee comfort, without trouble or toil. Therefore if thou be not in a state of comfort, arise and accompany us to our space home at Himfeltalt country and our family of the Void; but if thou be comfortable here, in honor and happiness, this is our desire and wish.”
“By Lord Rahh,” replied Grenade, “I am in a state of the utmost enjoyment, in honor and desirable happiness. Often doth my genitalia drip in pleasure here.”
The mother then placed her hand over the cunt of her daughter and asked if she would like to be pleased now on the bed. The visitors from Void all agreed that it had been a long time since they had played at a round of incest with their favorite female Grenade.
Grenade looked down at her chest, which was still caked in blood and semen.
“This I should enjoy more than anything,” responded Grenade. “But, firstly, let us dine, mother. Thou must try some of this fantastic Paressiian wine!”
Grenade gave orders to the other female slaves to bring them a space feast of all kinds. She even went into the royal kitchen to make sure that the food was properly made. When the meal was ready it was brought to Grenade and her family from the Void. They ate heartily.
After the galactic-sized feast, Grenade’s brother Hâles lamented:
“O Grenade, thy space master is a humanoid who is a stranger to us, and we have entered his abode without his permission, and thou praisest to us his excellence, and hast also brought to us his food, and we have eaten, but have not seen him or his stately penis, nor hath he seen us or our naked bodies, nor come into our presence, nor eaten with us, nor even fingered one of our assholes, that the bond of bread and salt and ass-juice might be established between us.”
The other visitors from the Himfeltalt also expressed their displeasure of not having met Grenade’s lover yet.
Grenade arose from the feast and went to the space where King Zemanshãh was hiding in the closet. She said to him:
“O my twat-sucking master, didst thou see, and didst thou hear my thanks to thee, and my praise of thee in the presence of my family; and didst thou hear what they said to me, that they desired to take me with them to our family and our home in Himfeltalt amidst the Void?”
The King answered his space slut: “I heard and saw. May Lord Rahh recompense thee! By His Butthole, I knew not the extent of the love that thou feelest for me until this blessed hour.”
Grenade replied: “O my tit-biting master, is the recompense of beneficence aught but beneficence? How then could my heart be happy to quit thee and thy cock, and to depart from thee? Now I desire of thy goodness that thou come and salute my family, that they may see thee, and that pleasure and mutual friendship may ensue.
“For know, O King, that my brother Hâles and my mother and the daughters have conceived a great love for thee in consequence of my praising thee to them, and they have said, ‘We will not depart from thee to our country until we have an interview with the king, and salute him in some way dictated by the ancient arts of Lust.’”
King Zemanshãh responded, “I hear and obey; for this is what I desire.”
The King made his way to their table and feasted with them.
They all got along splendidly and King Zemanshãh asked if Grenade’s family members would not spend a little more time with them before they returned to Himfeltalt. Hâles and the mother agreed so that for a period of thirty days they stayed at King Zemanshãh’s place at Balasmar on planet Baxium. The King also insisted that they share the same bed as he and his slut slave-girl Grenade. At first they demurred, but Hâles finally broke down when he finally saw the King’s imperial penis.
For thirty days and nights, King Zemanshãh made Grenade and her brother, mother, and five sisters perform lustful acts of depravity in praise of Lord Rahh.
King Zemanshãh’s favorite activity was to lay all of Grenade’s family on his royal space bed naked. With their asses in the air, the King would slowly teabag their backsides, sliding his elderly scrotum from the backs of their ankles to the napes of their necks. Because King Zemanshãh was feeble, he would often ask for Grenade’s hand to help guide him around the bed. The King would not be aroused at this point, but would simply be working up to an erection. Whilst his sweaty balls was sliding over Hâles’ or Grenade’s mother’s back, the King would normally also be fingering the youngest of Grenade’s sisters.
Naturally during this nightly ritual, Sir Novnov his chief minister would make an appearance at about this time. His main ceremonial role was to abuse Grenade. Though the King had not yet officially made his sex slave-girl Grendae his Queen, he intended to in the future. Thus, King Zemanshãh was able to affect an enjoyment not unlike seeing one’s fiancée cuckolded in front of one’s eyes. Indeed, the King would order Novnov to remove his pathetic penis and penetrate the unhappy space slut. Often Grenade would cry, worrying about the child in her womb, so forcefully would Novnov beat his tiny cock into her. Yet before any real damage could happen to King Zemanshãh’s unborn heir, the King would jump down from his bed, kicking a few of Grenade’s sisters in their in vaginas, and violently tear his chief minister Novnov off from his soon-to-be Queen.
At this juncture, King Zemanshãh would be fully erect. The king would then smash his imperial johnson into the ass of Sir Novnov. His chief minister would then begin weeping in pain, whilst the King invited Grenade to strike at the face of Novnov as a small form of revenge.
King Zemanshãh, refusing to waste his seed, would then jump off the wailing chief minister, run back toward his bed, and immediacy penetrate one of Grenade’s sisters or her mother. He would then normally faint in exhaustion, his cock still nestled sublimely into one of Grenade’s female kin. Occasionally, Hâles would then attempt to rape his sister, but normally Grenade would fight him back since she knew his ability to bring her to orgasm was an impossibility. Instead, Grenade would invite her elderly mother or sisters to rub her labia.
These diversions of lustful reverence toward Lord Rahh, peace be upon His Butthole, lasted for an entire month.
After this Grenade’s family returned to the twin star systems of Himfeltalt, vanishing back into the singular Void from whence they came.
Soon, King Zemanshãh’s sex slave-girl gave birth to a boy. Because the humanoid child was the King’s firstborn, he experienced a level of happiness hitherto unknown to him. Quickly he had Grenade’s space rank raised to that of Queen of the Paresii Empire and Its Thirty-Eight Star Systems of Lust and Wine.
After the seventh day of the birth of the new little Paresian prince, Grenade’s mother, brother, and younger sisters came to visit.
King Zemanshãh went to greet them as the family from the Void alighted from their interstellar scrambikes, saying, “I said that I would not name my space son until ye should come, and that ye should name him according to your knowledge.”
Queen Grenade’s family were delighted that they could name the child. They chose the name of Koőol Ķhåra, which meant “Eater of Shit” in the ancient star tongue in honor of Lord Rahh’s love of lusty scatology.
The Queen’s brother Hâles enjoyed taking the little space tyke with him when walking about King Zemanshãh’s celestial palace. One day Hâles insisted on taking Koőol Ķhåra back into the Void between the twin stars of Himfeltalt. Without the King’s permission, Grenade’s brother murmured a few verses of ancient Himfeltalt space magic thereby conjuring up a direct interstellar worm hole through space and time. Hâles slipped into the void with baby Koőol Ķhåra.
When the King learnt of this crime he despaired. The old space satyr began to weep and wail like one of his intergalactic catamites that he kept locked up for parties.
The slutty Queen raced up to him and tried to comfort the King:
“O ass-fucking King of the age, fear not nor grieve for thy son, whom thou wisely allowed to be named ‘Eater of Shit’; for I love my humanoid child more than thou, and my child is with my brother; therefore fear not his being suffocated in the Void. If my brother knew that any injury would betide the little one, he had not done what he hath done; and presently he will bring thee thy son safe, if it be the will of Lord Rahh, whose Butt Hole be exalted!”
A short time later a black, flat disk of emptiness appeared at the front of the King’s palace. From the time-bending portal appeared Hâles, holding Koőol Ķhåra in his arms.
Hâles laughed when he espied the King’s face contorted in marked displeasure.
He said to King Zemanshãh, “Perhaps thou fearedst some injury to thy son Koőol Ķhåra when I descended into the Void, having him with me.”
“Yes, O my dildo-rimming master, I feared for him, and I did not imagine that he would ever come forth from it safe,” admitted the King.
“O lusty King of the Paresii Empire, we applied to his eyes a spermicide lotion that we know, and repeated over him the names engraved upon the seal of Profit Élouraz; for when a child is born among us, we do to him as I have told thee. Fear not therefore, on account of any suffocation in the Void. Like as ye bugger upon the land, we bugger in the Void.”
Hâles then placed the child in front of him on the ground: “I shall show thee the power of this lotion.”
Grenade’s elder brother dropped his space trousers down to his ankles. He displayed his spritely cock to all viewers without embarrassment. Hâles proceeded to wank his penis into a bold erection over the head of young Koőol Ķhåra. The child looked upon his uncle’s dangling junk as if it were a colorful mobile hanging over a cradle. Koőol Ķhåra cooed and giggled until Hâles ejaculated a sour-looking nutsack of cum over the baby’s face.
Hâles had been correct, for when the semen hit the widened eyes of little Koőol Ķhåra, the special spermicide lotion had shielded the King’s son from what surely would have been a terrible bout of pinkeye libertinage.
Queen Grenade, like her husband, had been watching her brother keenly. At the sight of her newborn baby doused in his uncle’s yellow semen, Grenade ran down to where the child lay in front of Hâles. She shouted for Hâles to step back.
The Queen then got down on all fours like a pink space leopard and licked the sticky substance off her child’s face. She had barely cleaned Koőol Ķhåra’s face of her brother’s cum before King Zemanshãh knew that he too must have a taste of his brother’s-in-law cock-juice. Thus both mother and father proceed to tongue young Koőol Ķhåra’s upper half until every drip and drop of yellowish avuncular semen was collected.
As for the disturbed uncle himself, Hâles maneuvered toward the backside of his sister the Queen and lifted her space skirt. He fondled at the Queen’s anal-flower and stroked his cock anew. A pageboy was nearby and was called thither. Hâles punched the young slave child thrice in the scrotum until the pageboy’s nether regions awakened to pleasures before his eyes. King Zemanshãh’s looked up from the cum fest on his newborn’s face and nodded that it was okay for the pageboy to penetrate his slut wife’s bunghole.
Queen Grenade was most delighted by the random sex organ now projected into her buttocks. She assumed that it was her brother’s, for not even Hâles would dare touch her primiparous labia. Hâles only ever sodomized his sisters. If he had played with her soggy cunt, she would have murdered him on the spot since his ability to bring her to orgasm was legendarily pathetic. Grenade looked around and saw that it was, indeed, only a random slave pageboy who was fucking her in her butt. She groaned in intense pleasure. Grenade reminisced of her first time to have a stately cock thrust into her backside. She had been barely four years of age, living with her family in the Void between the twin stars of Himfeltalt. An old lecher at the local community’s alter to Lord Rahh had accosted her when no one was looking. Because of the young age, she barely remembered anything—only the satisfying mix of pleasure and pain and lustful revenge. Her family, after the deed had been done, found her lying unconscious, her child’s ass in the air, full of cloudy semen and rectal blood; they assumed that Grenade’s stolen anal virginity had been at the hand of some intergalactic angle of Lord Rahh. In loving submission to His Glorious and His Infinite Bunghole, they had sacrificed a Xizân sex slave midget upon the alter to Lord Rahh that faithful day.
At the thought of death, the Queen whispered to her King that she wished to see some space blood. King Zemanshãh agreed.
The King quit his cum-licking, stood up, pulled out his pleasure saber, and beat in the head of the space pageboy right at the moment that the lad was shooting his load into the backside of Queen Grenade. The boy wailed like a pink space leopard being circumcised. His life-force expired as he came.  
Thus, was the newborn son Koőol Ķhåra showered in both his uncle’s seminal fluid and a male slave’s blood on his seventh day as proscribed by the ancient rites of Paressiian royalty in this quadrant of the Triangulum Galaxy.
The King, Queen, and family members of the Void feasted grandly later that evening.
During the meal, Hâles produced from his asshole a basket of gifts that he had been saving to give the King when the moment was right. Hâles said to King Zemanshãh:
“O labia-murdering King of the age, these jewels and space jacinths of rock hard feces are a present from me unto thee; for we never brought thee a present, because we knew not the place of Grenade’s abode the last time we visited and made anal love. So when we saw thee to have become united to her, and that we all had become one, we brought thee this present; and after every period of a few days, we will bring thee the like of it. For these jewels and space jacinths of crystalized shit with us are more plentiful than the stars in the sky, and we know the excellent among them, and the bad, and the places where they are found, and they are easy of access to us. Thus is the greatness of the Void at Himfeltalt. Thus is the greatness of a well-oiled linga.”
King Zemanshãh was bewildered with joy. He shouted, “By Lord Rahh, one of these jewels is worth my space kingdom of thirty-eights suns!”
The King turned to his minx Queen and said, “I am abashed at thy brother; for he hath shown favor to me, and presented me with this magnificent present, which the humanoids of my Paresii Empire would fail to procure.”
The Queen thanked her naughty brother on the King’s behalf.
Hâles would not let the King have the last word:
“O smegma-slurping King, to thank thee hath been incumbent on us; for thou hast treated my slutty sister with beneficence, and we have entered thine abode in the stats, and eaten of thy provision.”
Hâles continued after a pause:
“If we stood serving thee, O quif-smelling King of the age, a zillion years, regarding nothing else, we could not requite thee, and our doing so would be but a small thing in comparison with thy glorious space empire of lust and wine.”
The Queen’s brother then removed his pants and inquired if the King had a pair of assless space chaps to wear. Hâles wished to go for a ride on his scrambike and charm the local humanoids on the King’s capital planet of Baxium with his naked rump.
The King agreed, but only on the condition that Hâles and the rest of Grenade’s family from the Void at Himfeltalt also wear assless space chaps for the rest of their visit at the King’s palace at Balasmar.
After forty days and nights of incent, sadism, necrophilia, pederasty, onanism, buggery, coprophagia, and honest bedtime rape, Hâles arose from one of their breakfast meals and kissed the ragged foreskin of King Zemanshãh.
The King blushed as he was wont to do in such moments.
“What dost thou desire, O Hâles, cunt-fingering brother of my fornicating slut Queen?” asked the King.
Hâles blushed in turn and said:
“O rectal-reaping King of the age, we desire of thy goodness that thou wouldst give us permission to depart; for we have become desirous of seeing again our family and our country and our relations and our homes in the Void at Himfeltalt. We will not, however, relinquish the service of thee, nor that of my sister Grenade nor the son of my sister Koőol Ķhåra; and by Lord Rahh, to quit you is neither pleasant to my heart nor my ball sack; but how can we act, when we have been reared in the Void, and this strange planet of Baxium is not agreeable to our every sexual fantasy? Surely thou knoweth we prefer to fuck in zero gravity like in the Void?”
King Zemanshãh rose from his seat at the breakfast table and pushed Hâles away from his imperial junk. He then called over the Queen’s mother so that she may munch on his flaccid penis for some time.
The King ruminated on what his slut wife’s brother had said. In the end he decided it was best if his in-laws left. Forsooth, making violent love in zero gravity must be a grand endeavor. He must, alas, allow them to return to the Void in between the twin star systems of Himfelt.
Grenade’s family were pleased at King Zemanshãh’s decision to allow them to leave.
They said to the King, “We will never relinquish you, but after every period of a few days we will visit you from the Void and please your cunning cock in whatever way you wish.”
Hâles, the mother, and Grenade’s firm-bodied little sisters soon departed.
The child Koőol Ķhåra grew up well loved and often fondled. The little prince’s uncle and many aunts visited often and taught the space tyke all types of unusual sexual appetites. In all subjects of the Paressii Empire, the young Koőol Ķhåra excelled.
On King Zemanshãh’s eight-hundred and twentieth birthday, he summoned his chief advisor Sir Novnov to consult on the topic of who would surmount the celestial imperial throne after the King’s death. Sir Novnov, holding the King’s balls in his hands, promised that he would see to it that Koőol Ķhåra would take the throne after the current King’s death.
King Zemanshãh decided it was better to quit the throne now whilst he was still alive. So the next day Koőol Ķhåra became the imperial king of all thirty-eight solar systems of the Paresii Empire.
In reverence to Lord Rahh, Koőol Ķhåra decided it was better to have his father Zemanshãh murdered in some sadistic way. He spoke to his mother Grenade and it was decided that Koőol Ķhåra’s first act of space kingship should be to have his father’s cock sawed off, deposited in the satyr’s mouth, and left to bleed to death in front of the palace at Balasmar on planet Baxium.
With the patricide complete and King Koőol Ķhåra and his mother watching the decomposing figure of the late King being picked to pieces by space pink leopards at the gates of their palace, King Koőol Ķhåra turned to his mother and smiled.
The new King placed his hand up his mother’s space skirt. Upon her son’s touch she smiled back at the new King of the Paressii Empire. They pleasured each other there upon the balcony of the palace in front of the naked universe and their deity Lord Rahh!



* * * * * * *





Wonderful, sexy, incest-loving, intergalactic-buggering humanoids of Earth...

...I love you all!

-Virginia de Sade




Sunday, March 1, 2015

Cyborg Cum Lust Galaxies 2

Cyborg Cum and the Lust Galaxies, Part 2

This is an except from the second installment in this story in the Erotic Sci-Fi Tales of Yore series.


“At the end of that period, she begged permission to erect a burying-place for herself on the moon of Šiss Klein, where she would continue, she told me, to the end of her days: I consented, and she built a stately edifice, and called it the Palace of Pussy Tears. When it was finished, she caused the object of her care to be conveyed thither, that well-hung astroman reptile, and placed on crystal bier. The strange space creature had still not terminated. Whatever it was that made its fourth-dimensional sex organ glow, slither, and spin had kept the astroman reptile alive. My slutty space queen continued to visit the creature every day after it came to the Palace of Pussy Tears.
“Often, my slutty wife would try to use some form of the ancient, dark space magic of Himfeltalt to try and resuscitate the astroman reptile. For she wished badly to be buggered by that lizard-like creature again.
“Yet, with all her enchantments, she could not cure the wretch; it was not only unable to walk or support itself, but had also lost the use of its speech, and exhibited no sign of life except in its looks. Furthermore, none of its sex organs seemed to work anymore. Sometimes I would follow my space queen to see what she would do with that black-and-red, scaled body. Since most of it was limp, she would simply prop up the creature’s arms and sit her well-worn pussy on top of it. I doubt if she ever climaxed. But often I did, stocking my mechanical cock whilst watching her from afar.
“Every day the queen made him two long visits. I was well apprised of this, but pretended ignorance. One day my curiosity induced me to go to the Palace of Pussy Tears, to observe how my consort employed herself, and from a place where she could not see me.
“I heard her thus address the wounded ruffian:
“‘I am afflicted to the highest degree to behold you in this condition,’ she cried. My space queen slut then removed her panties and began fingering herself. As you can imagine I was much pleased at this sight.
“‘She then said to the body of the astroman reptile, ‘I am as sensible as yourself of the tormenting pain you endure; but, dear soul, I am continually speaking to you, and you do not answer me: how long will you remain silent? Speak only one word: Alas! The sweetest moments of my life are these I spend here in partaking of your grief. See how wet I am. If only your fourth-dimensional sex organ could awaken and penetrate one of my orifices.’
“At these words, which were several times interrupted by her sighs, I lost all patience: and discovering myself, came up to her from behind my voyeur spot, and said, ‘Madam, you have wept enough, it is time to give over this sorrow, which dishonors us both; you have too much forgotten what you owe to me and to yourself.’
“‘Sire,’ said she, ‘if you have any kindness or compassion for me left, I beseech you to put no restraint upon me; allow me to indulge my grief, which it is impossible for time to assuage.’
“She then lifted her space skirt and displayed her throbbing vagina proudly. It was indeed a dripping mess. I thought it best at the time to apply my tongue to her sizzling, moist pussy. I immediately undid my space trousers and hit her across the face with my royal, cybernetic penis. I then shot a load on the ground near her feet. I wanted to finish on her face but was afraid I might blow of her head by doing so…
“Yes, Lord Zaphine of the Triangulum Galaxy so far away, this is what us half-humanoid, half-machine species must deal with…so so difficult is it to blast a load of sweet, heavy cum-juice on our lovers’ faces without murdering them.
King Cÿl sighed.
Emperor Zaphine felt much aggrieved by this news. He reconsidered the greatness of the cyborg peoples of the Kingdom of Âffineul. How great could a civilization be if male cyborgs cannot ejaculate on the faces of their loved ones?
The cyborg price continued his tale... [read more]


read me, love me, bugger me!!!
- V de Sade  
;)