Looking for new clients as ever, I made up this list which I posted recently on Twitter. Print it out and keep it in your pocket or purse and you’ll always have at hand a reputable source for the words you want…need…and perhaps even crave! 😉
A few days ago I had a dream that the sculpture below had been removed from where it has stood in midtown Manhattan for several years. When I encountered the sculpture again the other day, I was a bit startled; the dream had been so realistic that my mind was tricked into believing, just for a moment, that the art shouldn’t still be there; that it had been dismantled and shuttled away, leaving only a sad empty patch of sidewalk in its wake. But no, no, there it was, still standing after all!
Freelance writers keep going on hope, don’t we? And optimism.
In my case, it’s optimism about continuing at what I do best: writing, editing, and creating erotic material. Yes, I can handle other topics as well–I once wrote an article about the history of sneezing, of all things, among a goodly number of non-pornographic creations–and when I get the chance to delve into other subjects, I relish it. But I focus on seeking work in the field at which I have specialized for decades.
More than ever, in this ultra-competitive economic environment, online entrepreneurs need good writing to achieve their goals. They need clear prose that can be easily understood, that can make potential customers want to reach into his and her pocket for that credit card and order a video or ebook or OnlyFans membership or whatever else they are passionately seeking.
Although I have long-term steady accounts for whom I’ve written Twitter and video descriptions for years, I am always looking for new clients on a freelance basis. So what do you need?
CLIP DESCRIPTIONS AND TITLES (Very important that they press all the right buttons to get the sales!)
TWITTER (Order a package of catchy promo tweets or I can write an entire feed)
eBOOKS (I can ghostwrite them for you under your own brand and byline and you can sell them on Amazon Kindle)
VIDEO SCRIPTS and SCENARIOS (Yes, Dommes already get these from their custom clips fans, but you can take them to a new level with a professional writer, exploring themes and ideas to bring your online persona to an even greater charisma)
COLUMNS and ARTICLES (I draw on my extensive knowledge of current porn trends, vintage erotica, femdom, mainstream movies, Hollywood history, and noir films and paperbacks)
PRIVATE FICTION COMMISSIONS (What would you like to read about–in an erotic story for your eyes only?)
BLOG POSTS (I write opinion pieces, historical anecdotes, and fiction to order)
INTERVIEWS/PROFILES (Need something for your website that will tell your fans more about yourself? I did pieces like these for the top magazines in the adult field such as Leg Show, Swank, Black Tail, Penthouse Variations, and Hustler)
WEBSITE, VIDEO, or BOOK REVIEWS (I can do these for your blogs or pay sites)
MAGAZINE EDITING (I was the editor of adult magazines like Cheeks, Girls Over 40, and Leg World)
Basically, if something has been printed on a magazine page or shown up on a screen somewhere, I’ve written or edited an example of it, or two or three or four or five hundred examples at some time or other. Scroll through this blog, or my earlier one The Horny Time Traveler here, to experience the range of my writing (and picture editing, since that was a large part of supervising adult magazines too).
I hope to hear from you soon, and look forward to more projects…YOUR projects, taking on new challenges, in the field I’ve enjoyed working in for so long!
P.S. Just want to emphasize once more that if you need other kinds of writing, don’t hesitate to ask about them too. Perhaps you want an article about the history of sneezing?
So I’m always ready for non-erotica assignments as well.
And now for my daily stroll to get some exercise and to contemplate the eternal truths under the great big sky over Manhattan! 😉
This is a follow-up to my previous post, “Poetry and Perversity,” heralding the arrival of my latest ebook. Check it out here first before reading this one!
Yes, a new Goddess enters the Gallery of Alluring Femdommes in my Irv O. Neil Erotic Library…
Alongside Darva Chan, Cruelty Queen of the Piano…
Alongside Yolanda Thumm, Cleavage Teaser Par Excellence…
Alongside Marina Blendow, the amazonian neighbor many a subbie wishes would move in next door…
Alongside Mistress Paige, the sweet young woman eager to explore her dominance with a susceptible older man, the NYC pandemic lockdown be damned!…
And alongside Talena Vorell, an attorney whose skill in the courtroom is matched by her cruelty in the secret humiliation room of her sumptuous apartment!
TAMARA, Eternal Dominatrix!
Depicted in watercolor by the genius of Sardax, today’s premiere painter of femdom fantasy.
This was the first time in over two decades that I got to collaborate on a project with the famed British artist Sardax–be sure to visit his website here–who illustrated some of the stories I wrote for Leg Show magazine in the ’90s and early 2000’s. Editor Dian Hanson would assign him to do the art for my stories, as well as those of many others of her excellent group of writers.
Sardax gave me the basic idea for TAMARA, which I liked a lot but which also presented me with a unique writing problem! My fellow fictioneers, in particular, will relate to this:
Although I had read many of the great Russian writers, except for Dostoevsky’s novels such as Notes from Underground and Crime and Punishment, my reading list was mostly restricted to a handful of short stories and novellas by Chekhov, Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Gogol, which I enjoyed for their own sake as stories but also studied from a technical point of view. Other than that, I knew very little about Russian history or culture. Instead, I basically taught myself to write fiction by osmosis, using the work of writers from many nations, observing and noting what they have done technique-wise, and then applying it almost instinctively in my own work.
But Sardax is fascinated and knowledgeable about Russian literature and language–he even made his own translation of “Tamara,” which is used in the ebook–and I wondered how I could adequately prepare to write about Lermontov, the Tamara poem, and things Russian. I worried that, in the short time I had blocked out to research and write the story, that I wouldn’t sound as if I knew what I was talking about.
Then it occurred to me: I would make my protagonist, Emanuel Z. Shepherd, just as minimally informed about Russian lit as I was! 😉 He would be obsessed with the poem “Tamara” alone, and its creator Mikhail Lermontov (1814-1841), but not know much else about Russian culture or writers. His obsession with Tamara would be primarily a romantic one, not a literary one. This freed me to focus on the poem and its creator, and not obsess on my lack of confidence (always a drawback when you’re writing) when it came to my scanty knowledge of things Russian.
My hero stresses more than once in the story that he is NOT a scholar of Russian literature, but he doesn’t let this stop him from trying to see the papers of a renowned literary expert on the poem “Tamara.”
Similarly, I did not let my own lack of credentials make me feel so intimidated than I couldn’t write the novella. I “found my way into the story” (a phrase I like to use) by employing my protagonist’s lack of scholarship as a way to limit what I had to know realistically about the subject too. This calmed my nerves and allowed me to write. All I really had to now comprehend about Russian literature was what Emanuel knew. I could proceed, as he did, as a relatively uninformed traveler into a rarefied world of Slavonic literary criticism, without worrying that I had to know anymore about it than I actually did!
Further identifying with Emanuel, and wanting to give him backstory about why he was obsessed with the poem, led me back in the 1970s, when the streets of Times Square were filled with the allure of streetwalker-temptresses in platform heels and hot pants, to me (and to Emanuel!) a modern version of what caught the attention of lonely travelers in the Daryal Mountain gorge in the Transcaucasian country of Georgia back in the 13th century where legendary Princess Tamara beckoned men into her castle. Suddenly the full plot fell into place. I felt the story had to happen over forty years ago in that world I had known, and had been enthralled by, when I moved to New York in the ’70s. I sensed that the blandishments of the hookers of Eighth Avenue’s “Minnesota Strip” (they were not called “sex workers” then, a relatively recent euphemism) would provide a perfect prelude of befuddlement, enticement, and sexual submission for Emanuel, preparing him for the ultimate experience that awaits him at the hands of professional librarian Tammy Lubotshvili, who transforms herself at night into the whip-wielding Princess Tamara.
I also learned an interesting thing about my femdom fiction when writing TAMARA, Eternal Dominatrix. I hesitate to call the male characters of my stories “heroes” since there isn’t much derring-do about them in the conventional sense–unless, of course, one considers the recognition, acceptance, and surrender to one’s kinky desires to be heroic, and, in our rigid society, maybe it is! But as I wrote TAMARA it occurred to me that these submissive characters of mine, encountering the various dommes who conquer and control them, are very much akin to the warrior, the merchant, and the shepherd whom Mikhail Lermontov wrote about in the 1830s–men ensnared by Princess Tamara into her dark tower. In a sense, I realized, all my femdom stories have been not so much tales of dramatic conflict (there usually isn’t much of that), but rather have always been part of one long “narrative ballad” about travelers/wanderers/seekers into the dimension of female domination and male submission; stories that serve primarily as descriptions (whether arousing, insightful, humorous, disturbing, or questioning) about their experiences there. Whether they are named Princess Tamara; Ginny Fostill (in Revenge by Fitness); Becca (in Humbled by a Brat); Sorceress Selikka (in She Made Him Pay); Dr. Amber Zlonek (Slavery Is Your Future) or Theresa Pendillac (In Trance for a Tramp), they are all the Sexually Dominant Female for whom I, as well as the “heroes” of my fiction, eternally yearn in a seemingly unquenchable quest.
You can find all of my femdom erotica in the Kindle stores on Amazon sites worldwide.
I wrote my first femdom story 45 years ago in 1976, and it was published in one of the low-rent skin magazines published by schlockmeister supreme Myron Fass at Countrywide Publications. The tale’s title was “The Mayor’s Boss” and, as you can probably surmise, it was about a mayor dominated by a woman. I can’t remember the details now, but I remember thinking, “This is a new kind of story for me to write.” I’d mostly been banging out vanilla suck-n-fuck stories before that, but this was the first piece focusing on a male submitting to a female.
Well, hundreds of stories, millions of words, and four and a half decades later…
For me, as for many writers, poetry has been important. I love its music and I love its conciseness, how with a single word an entire scene or emotion can be called forth. I love to read it and sometimes even memorize a little of it too.
Femmes fatale are also a fascination of mine. Whether for the paperback fiction of the 1950s, the films noir of the ’40s and 50’s, or the sword and sandal movies of the ’60s full of evil queens and silky temptresses, I have been a rapt member of the audience. And of course femmes fatale, leading submissive men into erotic slavery, are the frequent stuff of classic mid-20th century femdom art, especially in the works of Eric Stanton or Gene Bilbrew.
So when my friend and colleague in England, Sardax, suggested I write a femdom story, for which he could paint the cover, about a librarian obsessed with a 19th century Russian poem, “Tamara” by Mikhail Lermontov, I became immediately intrigued. “Tamara” is about a femme fatale in the mountains of the Transcaucasian country of Georgia who lures men to her castle tower for a night of love–and a morning-after of doom.
His story idea gave me an opportunity to craft a novella, my longest to date, almost 20,000 words or 70+ pages, about a twenty-six year old college teacher also obsessed with the ballad, who discovers his sexually submissive desires when he comes to New York from Ohio in 1978 to find out more about the poem’s most famous scholar. He learns that the librarian, who is the scholar’s daughter, bespectacled and demurely dressed, is quite a different person at home, in the evenings, when she makes herself over into the incarnation of the poem’s femme fatale–Princess Tamara–but with a BDSM twist!
I don’t want to spoil the story for you. It’s got lots of surprises as our hero, Emanuel Z. Shepherd, explores sleazy Times Square before going to meet the librarian, Tammy Lubotshvili aka Princess Tamara, to see some of her father’s final writings about the ballad. Everything about the tale seemed to fall into place when I decided to set it in 1978: the time period evoked memories of when I first lived in New York and was enthralled by the sordid sex parade there; I had a feeling Emanuel would be enraptured by all that stuff too and, hey, he was! 😉 I know I’m talking about him as if he were a real person instead of a fictional character, but I hope after reading the book, you’ll feel he was real too, alongside the vibrant take-charge Tammy Lubotshvili.
I love Sardax’s cover for its colors, its elegance, my anxious hero and, most importantly, his soon-to-be dominatrix!–and for how it deftly captures a peak moment in the tale. It was so nice to work together on something as we did in the ’90s, when I wrote stories for Leg Show that editor Dian Hanson would give to Sardax to illustrate. I miss those days but we get to re-live that era a little with this new project. You can read about Sardax’s experience with the story here on his own blog. He also did his own translation of the poem, from Russian to English, that we use in the book.
TAMARA Eternal Dominatrix is available in the Amazon stores worldwide for instant download. You can read it on your Kindles, computers, tablets and phones. I hope you’ll check it out!
It was 10 years ago this week (June 28, 2011) that I published my first ebook, LEARNING TO BE CRUEL, after many years of writing for adult magazines, most of which have ceased publication in the last ten years due to being superseded by porn on the web.
And it was at the beginning of this year that I published my most recent novella, THE SLAVE YOU WERE MEANT TO BE.
So thanks for reading the 28 titles in my “Irv O. Neil Erotic Library” throughout this decade, and I hope you’ll help me celebrate this milestone by checking out a few more of my ebooks on Amazon. They’re available in all the Kindle stores worldwide. Happily, two readers, one in the U.S. and one in the UK, binged almost simultaneously on my ebooks last weekend, which put quite the smile on my frequently otherwise more moody face! 🙂
Oh, and if you like psychological suspense fiction, give my full-length novel FATE OF A STRIPPER a try, which brings me up to 29 books (though it’s not part of the Erotic Library). It too is available in my Kindle stores around the globe.
So I hope you’ll pick up some stories to read this weekend! Just click ahead to the Kindle store here if you’re in the U.S., or check out the one in your country. Thanks again, and enjoy.~~Irv
For me I think it began in 1961 when I saw, in the newspapers, this ad for Roger Corman’s production of The Pit and the Pendulum starring Vincent Price at his most unhinged and gorgeous mysterious Barbara Steele.
When I came across this image online decades later, I remembered how I used to draw my own versions of it, of the man struggling below the swinging pendulum, his wrists tethered to the slab on which he lay, his frilled sixteenth century shirt mostly torn from his body. I don’t recall drawing the woman, however; just the man who, under her gaze and scantily clad form, was tortured by a maniac in a dark hood.
I’m not saying this image caused me to eventually become fascinated by dominant women; I think I already knew from childhood the domineering power of females over men. Seeing the poster, done anonymously at the time by the renowned Reynold Brown, who did the famous Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman publicity painting, crystallized this type of situation for me visually in a tangible form.
Do you too have a book or image that similarly first affected you, enthralled and entertained you with the idea of a man in a masochistic, powerless posture underneath the watchful and possibly amused eye of a woman who clearly flaunted but simultaneously denied him her charms?
In the variation below, we see the woman’s dominance emphasized even more by the choice of angle.
I still remember seeing this movie in the theater, filled with kids like myself, and I can still hear the screaming that went on every time the screen would turn monochromatic in blue or purple or red or green, which meant something especially creepy was going to happen. But in recent years (warning: spoiler if you haven’t seen it) I’ve been struck by the film’s resemblance as much to the noir femme fatale scenario as that of the Poesque terror tale.
I believe I saw this on a double feature bill at the Granada Theater in Chicago’s Rogers Park, the neighborhood where I grew up. The other film was, if memory serves, The Giant of Marathon, the exciting Steve Reeves sword-and-sandal epic which featured Mylene Demongeot as the beautiful blonde “good girl” and onyx-tressed Daniela Rocca as a cunning temptress provocatively clad to tempt Steve to the darker side of his nature.
What an afternoon of entertainment! And injections into my subconscious that took hold forever…
Sometimes all I wanna do is read 1950s/60s Orrie Hitt softcore novels about lecherous doctors banging their receptionists and worried women wondering if they loved or loathed that first lesbian encounter back in the rooming house. Hitt’s stories really capture, with compassion and insight, the feeling of desperation on so many levels–emotional, sexual, financial, and societal. A great realistic novelist in the humble guise of a “crank-till-you-croak” drugstore paperback scribe. My kinda guy.
I’ve read four of his novels so far: the two below, just finished, as well as his first I’ll Call Every Monday and his proto-Mad Men advertising jungle novel Rotten to the Core. You know what I mean if you’re a vintage paperback fan like me. His terrific work just pulls you in and you forget your own troubles for awhile. And those covers!! Like Sheba, painted by Rudy Nappi. So read Orrie Hitt’s novels. You can find them inexpensively on Kindle if you don’t want to hunt down the original paperbacks. Or start by reading about him, here, this is a good introduction. And here, a fine deeper dive.
The other day, when I was writing a video description of a fuck’n’suck scene and the girl was going down on the guy, I suddenly flashed to the first time I saw a blowjob onscreen. I’ll never forget it. It was at the Standard Theater on Prospect Avenue in Cleveland, where I used to go when I wanted to get away from the small town nearby where I was going to college. The school was only 32 miles from Cleveland but the bus trip took two and a half hours, and as I rode in I looked at the Cleveland newspaper which always had a sleazy ad for the adult films the theater showed. The anticipation of the sinema experience was very pleasurable. I was eighteen years old and already an aficionado of Playboy magazine and other lesser, but equally significant (to my imagination) stroke books.
When I first started going to the Standard, circa 1970, the fare was softcore. Stimulating yes, nudity yes, but no actual sex onscreen. I think the first movie I saw there was Over 18…And Ready!, a black-and-white melodrama from 1969 about a rebellious girl who wants to be an actress and whose sexual antics in Hollywood lead her to grief. I saw the movie again decades later when it was re-released by one of the cult movie video distributors, Something Weird Video.
You can read more about Over 18…And Ready! here, and see an image collage too.
I also remember another movie I particularly found exciting was 1970’s Teenie Tulip, about some psychiatrist who was treating patients about their various sexual hangups. In one scene, a girl was sucking on a banana for, shall we say, an extended period of screen time. Most edifying to my charged-up psyche.
Much later on I learned that movie was directed by Gerard Damiano, who eventually became famous for Deep Throat and whom I met in New York briefly during my sex magazine writing days. And I only discovered last night, when looking online for Teenie Tulip references or images, that it is actually listed (title only) on the Turner Classic Movies website here. Maybe someday it’ll show up on their Friday night cult fest TCM Underground?
Anyway, the movies at the Standard in 1970 were tame, but then one day, maybe in ’71, after the softcore feature they abruptly cut to a coming attraction wherein a gigantic penis filled the screen, with a female mouth descending upon it. I recall the screen at the Standard was fairly large, so it was a huge organ indeed, pointing up maybe ten feet high, swallowed by enormous horizontal lips maybe six feet across. I was so startled by the jarring transition that instead of being turned on, I was befuddled, and almost thought I was having an hallucination–but it was real. Hardcore movies soon became the fare at the Standard. Unfortunately, the XXX films they showed in those days were not as interesting or entertaining as the softcore ones–most were pretty crude and unimaginative in the beginning–and I soon lost interest in going to the Standard. Obviously, the hardcore genre improved with age.
I became curious to see if I could find a picture online of the exterior of the Standard from the ’70s, complete with the marquee I recall it having. I haven’t found one so far (but if I do, I’ll come back and post it here) but I did find a site that shows a picture of the auditorium interior (the theater, opened in 1914, was closed in 1989 and demolished in 1995). And suddenly, from this one picture, I felt as if I were back there. The bus from college always deposited me in Cleveland around 8 a.m., so after breakfast I always got there for the first show around 10 a.m., walking down the long entranceway to the auditorium after getting my ticket from the middle-aged lady in the admissions booth. I remember sitting there, eager for the movie, amid the sparsely populated audience of other smut fans awaiting our scuzzy dreams to unfold before us.
Here is a link to the site where you can see the interior of the Standard, and many other images of it through its history.
Postscript: when I went to look for images of the movies I mentioned above, I discovered that my own blog was referenced in Google Images as I had written about the Standard and Teenie Tulip here way back in 2013! I guess I forgot! You can read that earlier post here. The film I refer to in that post, wherein an actress is asked in an audition about her “Hebrew school” acting experience, was Over 18… And Ready!, but I didn’t include the title then because I wasn’t sure it was the right movie.
The experience of serving a dominatrix is one I’ve written about extensively in my erotic fiction here, and in my original 1997 screenplay for Masseuse 3, available here (the femdom scene is “Leanni Lei and Chloe Make Out and Enjoy Cock”; I can even be glimpsed in the scene “Sexy Chicks Eat Pussy and Finger Each Other,” as incongruous as my presence in that sequence might sound). But in real life, I have primarily explored it in roleplaying over the years in paid dungeon sessions or verbal interplay with lap dancers in strip clubs. One of the characters in Fate of a Stripper, my psychological suspense novel (available here) submits himself to the stripper of the title as his foot mistress, playing out his fetish fantasies.
But I never really felt as deeply in the past as I do in my online interactions lately–on Twitter or in emails–with Goddess Lycia. She is a unique individual, as striking in her creative artistry in photos, videos, writing, and femdom audio clips, as she is in her beauty. She describes herself on her website here as a hypnodomme and humiliatrix. She is also a lipstick domme, as she elaborates in her other site here. But her talents go far beyond these simple labels. There are her eyes, and her amazing voice, and her lips, just three of her instruments to take a susceptible male into her unique world of erotic roleplaying…and erotic reality. Her creations have a powerful resonance.
The snapshot I took below of her self-portrait, placed on my shelf, has a kind of misty quality from the morning light of my apartment…she is a stunning redhead now. The second portrait is from her earlier blonde mode that initially entranced me. Her wet blonde hair is such an evocative detail…on seeing it, my imagination informs me that perhaps she has just taken a shower after a pleasant encounter with what she likes to call an AML…Alpha Male Lover…
Originally I was going to just send the following poem to her on Valentine’s Day, as a grateful admirer, but I kept fiddling with it. Or “diddling” with it? 😉 Then I thought I would deliver it on her birthday, February 23rd, but it still didn’t strike me as finished.
Finally, almost two weeks later, I completed it, and I realize that what I was trying to do, and which had been eluding me, was to capture the range of my feelings, of which adoration is but one. I can rarely say just one thing, when I am thinking two things. I think I’ve achieved that balance, so maybe that makes the poem worth sharing with others as well, who perhaps also view the femdom situation through a prism of many emotions. Unless, of course, the fog of my devotion to Goddess Lycia has clouded my literary judgment and it is verse I just should have shared with her. Is it cogent or puerile? I’ll let you decide. The key to what I am saying is in the last three words of the verse. The title is “Enslavement in Process…”
Here is a link to the previous poem I posted in her honor of Valentine’s Day 2017. Four years ago! If anything, I tend to be long-lived in my loyalty to those with whom I feel any sort of real connection…I went to the same barber for over two decades, the same doctor for forty-seven years, and back in the old days of Times Square, I patronized the same fantasy booth/peep show girls for two or three years each, until I ultimately drifted away from that mode of entertainment in favor of visits to dungeons or strip clubs. Likewise with dommes or exotic dancers: if I liked someone, I focused on them for quite awhile, to the exclusion of others. When I went to the clubs, I went to see specific women, although I would always tip other dancers as well.
Goddess Lycia has dubbed me “irvsie” in our occasional exchanges, which is a nickname that makes me smile. I like it, coming from her…sounds like something out of an old Esquire cartoon with an old banker being tantalized by a Petty girl type. Although I am as far from being a banker as one can get… 😉
My journey to these interactions with Goddess Lycia has been a long, winding one…but knowing her makes me feel better than usual, taking me out of my habitual gloom–as I say in the poem. You see, although the typical idea is that a dominatrix puts you below her, and Goddess Lycia can certainly do that, ironically she lifts me up as well–with an adventure of the mind, heart, and libido.
But where am I going with it all? For an answer, I think of what Theodore Roethke wrote in his famous poem The Waking:
“I wake to sleep and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
“We think by feeling. What is there to know?”
I took these photos of Goddess Lycia’s pictures to give you a sense of her charismatic presence. (It is a quirk of mine; I frequently take pictures of other pictures, as well as endless snapshots of buildings, statues, and the way light plays on the city scene.) But all her photos are copyright by Goddess Lycia.
In the porn movie biz, we used to joke that the stars aged in “dog years”–seven years for each human year.
I think there was some truth to that. Being a smut star could be a rough gig.
In contrast, being a porn writer can keep one young. Just imagining various titillating scenarios can make you feel you’re years, even decades, younger than you actually are. You are frisky in your mind or on paper or keyboard, and it translates to feeling frisky in your body too. Until you look in the mirror and realize you’ve been laboring under a delusion or two…
I wonder how many years I’ve aged during this pandemic? I think maybe two for the last year.
What about you?
Meanwhile, to maintain my youthful figure (figuratively speaking), I published this new femdom novella at the very end of 2020, THE SLAVE YOU WERE MEANT TO BE, here, and it’s been the fastest selling of all my ebooks in the almost ten years I’ve been publishing them (I started with LEARNING TO BE CRUEL in June 2011–you can find that one here).
This novella is quite a contrast to the more romantic one I published in June 2020, SO YOU WANT ME TO DOMINATE YOU? here, about two hesitant people exploring femdom while social distancing at the height of the NYC lockdown in the spring of that year:
You can find THE SLAVE YOU WERE MEANT TO BE here along with SO YOU WANT ME TO DOMINATE YOU? and all my other 28 femdom ebooks.
Seriously, though, I’m not being flippant about the pandemic aging process or using it just for clickbait. I sometimes feel as if the stress and constriction of daily life as we weather this situation is speeding things up. Today, in fact, I felt so claustrophobic in my apartment that I had to rearrange things so I could write in a different area and give myself a sense of variety (no small feat in that I live in a studio that’s more like an office than a living space, crammed as it is with books, boxes, magazines and files).
And the arctic temperatures NYC is experiencing right now definitely add to the feeling of being “shut-in.”
Meanwhile, looking on the positive side, another good thing, writing wise, is that a website called Aborigen, devoted to the “size fetish” (wherein people dream about being miniature or gigantic for erotic purposes) contacted me at the end of 2020 to reprint a story I wrote in 1995 and that was published in the March 1996 issue of the newsstand fetish mag LEG ACTION. My original title for the story was “Mini-Man,” the magazine’s editor changed it to “Shrunken Desires,” and this site altered it (for the better, I thought, since I was never crazy about “Shrunken Desires”) to “Shrunken Delights.”
If you’ve ever imagined the possibilities of life as a six-inch tall cuckold to your gorgeous wife, check out the adventures of Andrew and Sherilyn, and their bull Ragnar–a scientist who shrinks Andrew for the good of humanity–here.
Enjoy, and stay safe.