So I only just realized yesterday that two stories were posted without any content viewable. This was an error on my part. A result of messing with my site’s format too much and not properly checking every link.



So here are the two pages. Corrected and now available for your viewing pleasure;

the Tutelage of Vinita Forthcutter

Delightfully Deviant Valentine’s Day







A little while ago I saw something online that tickled my fancy. It’s a project by an artist named Clayton Cubitt. The project is called, “Hysterical Literature”.


Now it’s not hysterical in the sense of, “Haha omg that’s so funny I lmao’d” It’s hysterical in the sense of “female hysteria”


Here’s the Wikipedia definition for you:

Female hysteria was a once-common medical diagnosis, reserved exclusively for women, which is today no longer recognized by medical authorities as a medical disorder. Its diagnosis and treatment were routine for many hundreds of years in Western Europe.[1] Hysteria of both genders was widely discussed in the medical literature of the nineteenth century. Women considered to have it exhibited a wide array of symptoms, including faintness, nervousness, sexual desire, insomnia, fluid retention, heaviness in the abdomen, shortness of breath, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex, and a “tendency to cause trouble.”[2]


So what Clayton Cubitt did is he took the juxtaposition of women reading a favorite piece of literature while his female assistant, hidden beneath a table, teased them with a Hitachi wand vibrator. The women were to read as much as they could while under the benevolent assault of Katie (the assistant). The resulting videos are exquisite to watch.




There is nothing overtly sexual about the videos. In fact, they’re hosted on YouTube. There is no nudity. You never see the wand, nor do you see the assistant. You can only faintly hear the buzzing sound and infer from the model’s reaction what is going on.




I adore this.


The eroticism of the video is delicious but it is entirely in your own mind. Without any visual reference, you’re left to put together the missing pieces that you cannot see. Add to that the raw sensuality of an orgasm under restraint and you’ve got a potent mix of excitation and sexuality.



Now I say, “orgasm under restraint” even though there are no physical restraints holding the model down. The restraints, however, are entirely within their own minds. They are being asked to set upon a task, the reading, and continue it for as long as they can. There is nothing holding them to that task except their own will power. Watching all the sessions you can see varying degrees of success and failure, but regardless of the level of success or failure they all willingly restrain themselves and brace against the pleasurable onslaught.


I have been enthralled with this. Restraint and excitation under restraint has been a naughty kink that I hold secretly inside of me. Being a physically dominant and strong man I’ve believed I had to hold back this beast within me. But with age comes confidence with oneself and time and experience has taught me that I’m not the only one that gets excited by this. Dominance, control, restraint, and benevolent “torture” are much more common than my younger-self would have ever imagined.


So I’ve been obsessing over these videos, and I’ve been contemplating reenacting them locally. At first, I had assumed that doing so would be difficult. My old-self worried that no one would want to sign up for such an intimate affair. And yet after testing the waters by asking a few women if they’d be willing, the response has been resoundingly positive.


I’ll keep you posted on how that’s going.


For now, however, I’ll stick to writing. I have a few projects in the pipeline right now but unlike previous works I’d like to get them more polished before I post them to the site.


Stay tuned for more. 😉



Tinman gets a heart…

It seems that the only time I post a blog entry it’s either to explain why I haven’t been writing and posting more, or it’s to write out this plan of how I’m going to try to write more. Guess which version of blog entry this is going to be?


So I haven’t been writing too much lately. I have started a lot of little stories but I’ve ended up hating them all. Even the last ones that I’ve recently posted came off, at least in my mind, as lackluster efforts. I feel like I need to do something to push myself to a higher level.

I think what I distaste most of all about my writing is the lack of emotional connection. When it comes to it, I can write about the mechanics of a sexual encounter fairly well. I can set that scene as a transcript of the erotic film that’s running in my mind at the time. But just like a porno…I feel like there is a lack of connection and emotion that is sorely missing from my writing and it’s really pissing me off.


The thing is I’ve come to realize that it’s me that is the problem. Not me as in the way I write or how I write, but me the author as a person. I have been disconnected from my own emotional well and I’ve only recently come to realize this.


You see I recently met someone and she’s sort of reawakened all of those dormant feelings within me. It’s like she and I have walked into the breaker room of my emotional being and she’s started flipping switches into the “on” position. Suddenly I feel everything.


It’s been both terrifying and exhilarating. I feel that same angst and anxiousness that fills us all as teenagers. I feel the fear and dread of worry as the thought of losing this connection with her terrifies me. Simultaneously with all that worry comes this feeling of peace and absolute calm when I’m around her. It boggles my mind. I’m tremendously excited to see her any chance I get and I don’t understand it. I’m usually level headed. I’m usually calm and collected. I’m usually a relatively emotionless automaton though and it’s as if I’ve suddenly been filled to the top and sprung leaks.


I need to tap into these feelings. I need to investigate them, meditate on them, probe them. I need to understand how I could be so lost to one person so easily.


I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this much anxiety and excitement over any one person and it’s really thrown me for a loop.


Anyway, that’s enough babbling for now. I feel a little better for sharing this, so thanks for listening.



Feeling pushed. New approach needed?

Feeling pushed. New approach needed?

I’ve been trying to chisel away at this story I’ve been working on lately. The “One-Forty-or Less” story. As much as I would like to continue it, I have been feeling increasingly restricted by it. The story needs something new, something different and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Next week’s chapter may take the story in a slightly different direction and I hope that those of you that have been along for the ride so far, will be ok with that. If you’re not, however, I’d like to get that feedback.


In the meantime, I’ve also been chipping away at a possible side story just for Iria. I haven’t decided if it’s going to be in the past or in the future, but it won’t be about her directly. Instead, Iria will be a secondary character in someone else’s life story. I’m still playing around with the idea, and maybe it’s a little too much to try to force her into this story, but I kind of like her character and I’d like to see her in different situations.


I’d also like to try something different soon. As much as I’ve been purposefully trying to write with an emphasis on character development, it’s become a little too work heavy. What I mean is, it’s like doing homework. It’s hard to keep motivated when that’s all I’m doing. So I think, for a change, I may write a few purely hedonistic pieces just so I can keep that tool sharp. If there’s something that you’d like to see, I welcome the input.

Until next time.


Lunch Date

Lunch Date

10 04 2013 026

Today I had a lunch date with my muse.

We’re friends; good friends. We tell each other everything and I really mean everything. There is no subject that is taboo, and there are no limits to the silly or the perverse items that can be on the menu of discussion. The amount of frank openness is unique in my life. There is no other woman I’ve ever been so perfectly honest with. Perhaps that’s a failing of mine, but regardless; it makes this relationship utterly intoxicating.

When I get a text from her my immediate reaction is to grin like an idiot. When I see her in person I grin, smile, and feel the warm satisfying sensation of excited calm. Being around her is like……it’s like the feeling you get when you immerse yourself in a perfectly warm bath. You feel soothed, relaxed, and yet your skin shivers with delightful excitement at the sensual sensation of the water embracing you so delectably.

Her eyes are intensely captivating, as is her smile; and yet she sits there across from me blushing as if caught doing something silly. She can be disturbingly cocky and shockingly shy within the same moment. Complicated isn’t a complicated enough word to describe her. Yet, we walk from Starbucks into the adjacent book store and I catch her eyeing me as a great white shark might a tasty surfer. We turn into the non-fiction section and she catches me staring at her legs and her cute little ass. I don’t have to pretend like I wasn’t. I feel no shame for being caught, and neither does she.

We meander our way into the self-help section and she grazes by me reaching for a book, her perky breasts rubbing across my shoulder; my hand runs across her thigh and dances across her jean covered crotch. Our eyes meet and we both smirk. If only the store was closed. If only we had more time.

I feel tingles of excitement pulse through my body. Her perfume fills my nostrils and I breath it in deeply hoping to create yet another perfectly formed sense memory. She reaches for another book, this time grazing her hand across my stiffening imprisoned sex. My body shudders and she looks up at me with her intense auburn eyes, “Whoops.” she smirks….I wink…she licks her lips…and I melt.

If only we had a little longer and a little more privacy.

My muse….I love her….


This post is likely going to ramble. Be forewarned that I’m writing this for myself. If you, the reader, are seeking entertainment this isn’t the post for you. As the young ones say this post is full of “the feels”


Friday evening my dog died.


It was sudden, unexpected and heart breaking. Only an hour previous he was wagging his tail as he watched me preparing my dinner for the night. He was his usual happy go lucky self and there were no signs of the impending tragedy. After I let him out to do his business he came back in and looked to be hurt. It didn’t seem to significant though. I looked at his paws and legs and saw no obvious signs of injury so I had assumed it was just a sprain from running around in the backyard.
It wasn’t.
During the next hour he became more and more lethargic and his breathing became laboured. I still didn’t know what was going on. He looked at me with his beautiful big brown eyes and seemed to be asking me for consolation. So I did. I pet him and held him for a bit, letting him know it’ll be ok.
But it wasn’t.
He got worse. He walked to the bedroom and slumped to the end of the bed instead of jumping up on it. I still assumed he had a sprain so I picked him up and placed him on the bed. Duke isn’t, or I suppose I need to say “wasn’t” a small boy either. He’s around 60lbs. A Blue Heeler crossed with a German Shepard as far as we knew. What I noticed then that began to worry me is his lack of fighting back. He’s not a fan of being picked up and unlike most times picking him up and placing him on the bed was not very hard at all.
I feel like I should have known but I suppose there was no way of knowing really.
I went about cleaning up after myself in the kitchen and left him there to feel better. But he didn’t get better. He got worse. From the kitchen I heard his cry muffled by distance and the walls of my house. It haunts me now. It was a cry not of pain, or anger, or the normal typical dog cries you hear. It was a cry of unadulterated fear. Fuck does it haunt me now.
I scrambled from the kitchen to the bedroom to hear him crying again. He looked at me from the bed and in his eyes there was panic. He was trying to roll over but couldn’t. I helped him roll but he still wasn’t comfortable. I was getting incredibly worried at this point. This is the same pup that a day after surgery for being neutered he was sprinting through the field with stitches in him. He was as tough as they come. The only thing he feared was the crawl space and my disappointed voice. Hearing his cry, that cry of fear and anxiousness is heartbreaking.
I held on to him and reassured him, ” it’s ok bud. I’m here. It’ll be ok. I’ve got you.” I hugged him and he calmed down but his breathing was very strange. Not gasping but, sort of huffing, like it was taking a lot of energy to exhale. This isn’t right. Something is wrong. He’s not just in pain. I’ve got to take him to the emergency vet. I left the room to get ready and he cried that awful scared cry again. “Don’t worry bud I’m coming right back.” I pulled my jacket on and my boots and rushed back to the bedroom.


He looks at me and I can tell what’s in his eyes. Is it pain? Is it fear? Is it resignation. I cup his head in my hands and kiss his forehead. “Come on bud lets get you looked at.” He huffs once more and I pick him up. There is no fight in him at all. He’s limp in my arms and as I carry him out to the car I become aware that I can’t hear him breathing. I can’t move fast enough. I’m in the car in no time and lie him down in the back seat. “Come on bud. Stay with me!” He opened his eyes once more and I kiss him again. “It’ll be ok. I’m right here”. His eyes roll back and all I can do is hope he’s just passing out and nothing more.
The drive to the vet was agony. He’s in the back seat by himself and I’m reaching back the entire time rubbing his stomach as I drive. Talking to him. “It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. Just a little further bud. We’re almost there.”
When I reach the vets I race to the back and retrieve my best bud Duke from the back seat. He’s completely limp now and I can’t tell if I can hear a heartbeat or not. I think I do, but that turned out to be my own heart pounding in my ears. I carried him to the door and the vets take him away. A short while after I hear the same crying I heard in my bedroom. This time it reassures me. If he’s crying he’s still alive. He’s going to be ok. He’s going to pull through. He’s going to….
The vet comes in at tells me, “I’m sorry but Duke has already passed. He was dead when he arrived. We tried, but he didn’t respond. I’m so very sorry.”
What a punch to the heart. He wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was supposed to be around for another decade at least. My god. What happened?
The vet does some investigation and tells me he had fluid around his heart. That my big tough cattle dog likely had a tumour or cyst near his heart and it split open flooding his chest with fluid. When he was crying at home it was because he was scared. He was dying and I was too stupid to know. I just lied the and said it was going to be alright while my friend was dying in front of me. That hurts so much.
There is so much guilt that wells up when you lose someone, but probably more so when it’s your pet. I was flushed with guilt for every time I had to discipline him. Every time I denied him a treat or snacking on my food. Every time I was too tired to give him a walk or the time I spent at work while he was home without me. The guilt and pain from that is just eating me up. I come home now and no one is there to great me. I go to be and no one curls up at my feet. I miss hugging his big furry body. I miss holding him. Playing with him. Talking to him. He was a true friend. He looked after me when I was sick. If I was emotional from a movie or show he’d cozy up beside me and look into my eyes. His way of telling me it’ll be ok. God damn it I miss him.


Duke was a great friend. Not the type that you go and share a beer with, but the strong silent type that never judges and always loves. I’m going to miss him terribly and as I weep and write this all I can do is hope that he knew I loved him.
Goodbye my friend.


As a departure from my normal posts which, let’s be honest, are really me-centric, I’ve decided to write a few words about this movie I just saw. 
It’s called Deadpool. It’s really good. You should see it. 
The end. 

Blog update – Poll

So in February, as of writing this, I have 19 posts either already published or scheduled to be published before the end of the month. It’s fixing to be my most busy month ever!

A number of my short stories that have been published this month have been purposefully shorter than I normally would write them to be. I’m doing this to try to get my mind to focus not just on the sex, but on the setup and the characters. I’m trying to exercise my brain into thinking in that manner first and foremost. Sex scenes come easily for me and in the quest to be a better writer I need to push myself where I’m weaker.


To that end, a number of these stories may end a little too quickly for your liking. For that, I must apologize. As a way of mitigating your displeasure with me, I’ve decided to let you choose one of the shorter stories which have been published in this month and request that I fill out the story until it’s natural conclusion. Essentially; put back the sex scenes.

I’m going to attach a poll to this post, and I hope that you will submit your vote. I’ll also place an option to request that no changes be made.

I’m looking forward to your feedback.



Valentine’s Day wishes. 

I wish all of you the best on this Valentine’s Day. I hope it is filled with all consuming lust and passion. I hope that by the end of it, you have torn clothes and bite marks. I wish for you to be raw, used up, and quivering. I want you to have a hard time walking tomorrow. I want you to look at your partner tomorrow and think to yourself, “Now damn….that’s my man.” After all, Valentine’s Day may be about roses and chocolate I the stores but it’s about handcuffs and spankings in the bedroom. 
Have a deliciously dirty lust filled romp of a Valentine’s Day my wonderful friends. And if perchance you’re without someone this day; come over to my place…I’ve got enough animalistic passion to service you all.  😉
Your lascivious Valentine. 

Julian Lisette