Quick note from the writing desk...

Hello, loyal readers.

So, work is going considerably better. I'm pretty deep into a new story, which I should release next week. My editor is going to be on vacation for almost two weeks after that, so there will be a bit of a lull again, but it's a planned thing rather than my personal life stomping all over my writing time. I will continue to work in her absence, I just never release anything without a second pair of eyes on it first.

Apart from that, things are slowly returning to normal, and I wanted to take five minutes and tell you all.

Thanks again for all your support. :)

xoxoxoxo
- Jesse

It lives!

So, I actually finished the story I was working on. In my defense, this one clocks in at a little over 24,000 words, making it the longest story I've ever actually released into the wild.

Without further ado:

It's the story of a girl with supernatural powers, being captured and brainwashed by a shadowy government agency so they can use her to fight paranormal beasties. Sort of Conditioned to Serve meets Buffy or The X-Files. This one is mostly setup: it details how they capture her, and what they do with her early on.

It's currently available on Smashwords, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.

Also, for anybody who's curious about what happens to a story between the time that I type it out, and the time I actually edit it and release it, here's the new version of the text I offered to you all in the blog entry 'Teaser:'

A large, dark haired man with very good hands pushed me into a bathroom stall in the back of Louie’s Bar & Grill. He kissed me like he meant it, his mouth wet and hot and hungry.

I opened my mouth and leaned into the kiss. The man hiked up my skirt and hooked a finger beneath my panties, letting them drop around my ankles. The cool air felt good against my sopping pussy.

I bit his lip, then I reached down and grabbed his shirt, ripping it open. His buttons clattered to the tile floor, and I pawed at his muscular chest. My eyes were shut, but I could feel that it was just hairy enough.

The man broke off the kiss and spun me around bodily, pushing me toward the right hand wall of the stall.

I caught myself with my hands, not wanting to press my cheek against the cool surface. If I’d been even a little less drunk, just putting my hands on it would’ve been too much.

As it was, the wall was dry and I was soaking wet, so I just rolled with it. I put one foot up on the side of the toilet to spread my legs and give him a decent angle.

Mr. Bar & Grill didn’t argue. He unzipped behind me, then spread my nether lips with his nice stiff fingers. A moment later, a cock replaced his hand. I felt its head rub against my slick folds, then he slammed it into me.

I moaned, then I leaned forward and braced myself to give him a better angle.

He grabbed my shoulder with one hand and my hip with the other, using them to steady himself as he rammed his thick, hard cock deep inside me over and over again.

I nearly growled at the intense stimulation. I could feel tingling, electric pleasure building between my thighs with every deep thrust of his throbbing dick. I rocked my hips in time to his thrusts, trying to drive him even deeper still.

My partner leaned in and sped up. I was impressed with his balance after all the beer he’d drunk in front of me.

Then he let go of my shoulder and reached around the front of my blouse, pawing at my breasts through my halter top. It wasn’t nearly as good as if I had time to take it off, but I didn’t want to ruin the top or pause the fucking, so I just enjoyed the teasing stimulation.

For his part, Mr. Bar & Grill wasn’t going to last much longer. His cock tensed inside me, throbbing like mad. He slowed his rhythm down, trying to prolong it.

I was almost there, though. I could feel it. So instead, I sped up, bouncing up and down on him with abandon.

He came with a low animal noise. He leaned in and bit the nape of my neck even as his seed slapped my inner passage, then he gripped my breast a lot more roughly.

The stimulation from his sticky hot seed, mixed with the unexpected pain from the bite set me off. I saw stars as my body jerked and spasmed. Despite the hurried and perfunctory sex, pleasure crashed over me in waves.

He leaned in to kiss me on the lips, but I tilted my head so he only caught my cheek. We were done, and every game needed a few rules.

~~~~

A few moments later, I stepped out of Louie’s Bar & Grill, both my panties and my hookup discarded in the bar bathroom. I’m sure he would’ve taken me home with him if I had asked, but that wasn’t why I was in town.

Besides, whatever happened on Saturday night stayed on Saturday night. It was like Vegas or Mexico like that.

So instead, I slipped lightly into the driving rain, soon skirting ankle-deep puddles in the cracked and ruined streets. Some were worse than others: maybe half the street lamps were working. They were enough to keep my eyes from acclimating to the dark, but not enough to see very well by. It left the dilapidated neighborhood in shadow, lent the incomprehensible graffiti scrawled on walls and fences an especially sinister look.

The whole place reminded me of the set of a zombie movie, except that a zombie movie would’ve been livelier. Right now, nobody seemed to be out.

Just a year ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of setting foot in such a bad neighborhood, much less alone and unarmed. Honestly, the rain would’ve probably been enough to keep me indoors. Now, all I cared about was that it was anonymous: cash transactions, no cameras.

Nobody would ever know that I’d been here.

I was so caught up in the atmosphere that I almost missed someone following me, a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t bother turning around: that would only tip my hand. Instead, I crossed an empty intersection and headed down a side street, turning into a blind alley between a sad looking discount store and a local burger place, both closed at this late hour.

I waited, rivulets of dirty water cascading off my jacket. I wondered who was coming for me, if they would be human, or something more. Either way, I didn’t want to disappoint them: I put on my best doe-eyed ‘scared face.’

I practiced the look in the mirror sometimes, just for kicks.

The man following me was there moments later. He was broad shouldered with dark hair, and surprisingly hot in a hard bitten sort of way. Elaborate tattoos peeked out from beneath the sleeves of his leather jacket. There was a shiny revolver in his left hand. He aimed it squarely at my chest as he stalked forward. As he approached, he added, “Gimme your purse, bitch.”

I knew I should probably take the whole thing more seriously, but I was still feeling giddy from the booze and the fucking. Besides, men with guns usually needed them. Rather than keeping up the ‘distressed damsel’ act, I smiled and gushed, “You’re left-handed? No way! Me too!”

The thug stepped closer, brandished the gun and said, “Shut up, you drunken bitch. Just set your purse down and back the fuck up.” Lightning flashed, momentarily revealing that his eyes were bloodshot. I caught a whiff of cigarettes and whiskey, and wondered if he’d simply followed me from the bar.

I leaned forward, trying to get a closer look.

He appeared to misread my curious look at hesitation, and his finger tensed on the trigger.

No matter how many times I saw that motion, it always made my heart flip in my chest, and… well. Scare a human, and their body dumps adrenaline into the bloodstream. It lets a person resist pain and fear, perform feats of strength. A mother might lift a car off a trapped child, all that good stuff.

Whatever I had instead, it was better.

Time slowed to an obliging crawl, the rain no longer coming down in sheets, but lazy droplets. I slid the purse off my shoulder and let it dangle from my fingertips. I watched his head tilt downward, following the motion for a split second.

That was all the opening I needed: I lunged forward and threw a high kick at his left wrist. The gun went flying, and his head turned again to follow its arc as it spun away.

I pounced, grabbing him by the shoulder and slamming him against the weathered brick wall of the discount store. He flailed wildly, but he had much longer arms than I did. He managed to grab my throat, and proceeded to squeeze as hard as he could, muscles standing out like cords beneath his tattooed arms.

That didn’t do him a whole lot of good, of course. I shrugged out of his grip and punched him in the stomach, holding back to avoid splattering him all over my hand. The blow knocked the wind out of him instead, his eyes going wide.

I told him cheerfully, “Say ‘uncle!’”

He snarled and took a wild swing at me instead. Cornered animals, I supposed.

I sidestepped the charge and swatted him to the drenched pavement. He caught himself on the slick ground before he bashed his face. I kicked him in the side, but I was still careful to restrain myself.

Really, it was more of a friendly nudge.

He rolled into a fetal position in response, wide-eyed and coughing. Even so, I was mildly relieved to note that he wasn’t coughing up blood. He hadn’t tried to rape me, kill me or wear my skin, Buffalo Bill style. Smearing him against the pavement probably would’ve been an overreaction.

On the other hand, there was no point leaving him with either a gun or his dignity. I spotted his gun in the gutter. I headed for it, picking my purse back up on the way. I scooped it up and turned back toward him, aiming at him.

Even at this range, I might miss. I didn’t have much experience with guns, of course. Apart from posing little danger to someone like me, guns meant loud noises and lots of questions.

He didn’t know that, though. His eyes locked on the pistol.

I stepped close and said, “Gimme your wallet.”

The man coughed, “What?”

I winked and clarified, “I learned it by watching you. Now,” a harder edge crept into my voice, and I brandished the gun for emphasis, “Seriously, a girl’s gotta eat. Toss it on the ground and scoot the fuck against the wall, bitch.”

Fumbling, he pulled an old leather bound wallet out of his jacket pocket and tossed it.

I watched it move in slow motion, crouching to scoop it out of the air before it could land in a puddle. I straightened up, tucked it into my purse and said, “Thanks for the presents, but,” I hefted the pistol, “I don’t think this one’s my color.”

The man just glared at me with a heady mix of fear and hatred.

I flicked the cylinder on the revolver open and let the bullets inside splash into the puddle at my feet. Then, I dropped the empty gun at my feet, and slid my right foot out of its cute little ankle boot.

Nothing abut my supernatural durability extended past my skin, and good shoes weren’t cheap.

“Oh, and if you ever expect a girl to say ‘yes’ to anything you want again?” I smiled wickedly at him, “Get a real job.”

I stomped on the pistol. The blow sent a sharp pain up my calf, but it was worth it for the look on his face.

There was another flash of lightning very close by, and I caught a glimpse of a shadow on the rooftop behind me. Someone had seen my little display, someone out on the roof of a closed business on a Saturday night, in a violent downpour.

That could be bad.

I slipped my foot back into my ankle boot, turned away from the beaten thug and hopped onto the dumpster with a resounding clang. Then, I bounced off the lid and up onto the roof of the department store.

Before I could find the time to really think about what I was doing, another flash of lightning revealed someone leaping from rooftop to rooftop away from me. Whoever they were, they were moving pretty fast.

The odds of my having a stalker were vanishingly small. I was very careful. The odds of my having a stalker who was also Batman seemed even worse.

I gave chase, bounding after them so fast that my feet barely touched the ground. As I cleared a fifteen foot gap between the department store and another building, my skirt wafting around me, I suddenly regretted ditching my panties.

On the plus side, I was gaining ground.

The mysterious figure appeared to notice that, too. They gave me a backward glance, then dropped to the ground a block ahead of me. The wind blew the hood of my jacket down, but I ignored it and sped up. I caught myself on the parapet wall of the roof my stalker had just been on, a discount mattress store, leaning down to look for the them.

I immediately regretted the move. You’d never know it from the ground, but rooftops are actually pretty dirty, and the storm hadn’t done this place any favors. Rather than washing it clean, the rain had mixed with a thick layer of grime to form an unpleasant black muck that would, no doubt, ruin my skirt and top if I didn’t get them rinsed immediately.

All I saw down below was a stray dog, nothing to pose any threat to me. So I dropped to the pavement, landing in a pool of shadow beneath a defunct street lamp. I looked around, realizing there were a hundred places someone might be hiding.

I supposed that left me with giving up, or kicking in doors.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I headed back to my motel.

Anyway, hope you all like it. Probably going to do something a little easier for my next story just so nobody thinks I have forgotten about you all, but I'd really enjoy continuing this world down the line. 

Thanks again for your continued support. :)

Teaser

So, the problem with writing something longer than I normally do is that it takes longer, and it's longer between chances to share any sort of story with you folks. I'm still fooling with the current one, but I wanted to offer the first chapter here. (It hasn't been past my editor yet, so apologies for any lack of polish.)

It's a sort of urban fantasy/gritty supers story that's been on my mind a while, and will feature mind control, action, that sort of thing.

A large, dark haired man with very good hands pushed me into a bathroom stall in the back of Louie’s Bar & Grill. He kissed me like he meant it, his mouth wet and hot and hungry.

I opened my mouth and leaned into the kiss. The man hiked up my skirt and hooked a finger beneath my panties, letting them drop around my ankles. The cool air felt good against my sopping pussy.

I bit his lip and nearly growled. Then I reached down and grabbed his shirt, ripping it open. His buttons clattered to the tile floor, and I pawed at his muscular chest. My eyes were shut, but I could feel that it was just hairy enough.

The man broke off the kiss and spun me around bodily, pushing me toward the right hand wall of the stall.

I caught myself with my hands, not wanting to press my cheek against the cool surface. If I’d been even a little less drunk, just putting my hands on it would’ve been too much.

As it was, the wall was dry and I was soaking wet, so I just rolled with it. I put one foot up on the side of the toilet to spread my legs and give him a decent angle.

Mr. Bar & Grill didn’t argue. He unzipped behind me, then spread my nether lips with his nice stiff fingers.

A moment later, a cock replaced his fingers. I felt its head rub against my slick folds, then he slammed it into me.

I moaned, then I leaned forward and braced myself to give him a better angle.

He grabbed my shoulder with one hand and my hip with the other, using them to steady himself as he rammed his thick, hard cock deep inside me over and over again.

I nearly growled at the intense stimulation. I could feel tingling, electric pleasure building between my thighs with every deep thrust of his throbbing dick. I rocked my hips in time to his thrusts, trying to drive him even deeper still.

My partner leaned in and sped up. I was impressed with his balance after all the beer he’d drunk in front of me.

Then he let go of my shoulder and reached around the front of my blouse, pawing at my breasts through my halter top. It wasn’t nearly as good as if I had time to take it off, but I didn’t want to ruin the top or pause the fucking, so I just enjoyed the teasing stimulation.

For his part, Mr. Bar & Grill wasn’t going to last much longer. His cock tensed inside me, throbbing like mad. He slowed his rhythm down, trying to prolong it.

I was almost there, though. I could feel it. So instead, I sped up, bouncing up and down on him like a slippery fat pogo stick.

He came with a low animal noise. He leaned in and bit the nape of my neck even as his seed slapped my tight inner passage, then he gripped my breast a lot more roughly.

The stimulation from his sticky hot seed, mixed with the unexpected pain from the bite set me off. I saw stars as my body jerked and spasmed. Pleasure crashed over me in waves, leaving me even foggier than the alcohol.

He leaned in to kiss me on the lips, but I tilted my head so he only caught my cheek. I never kissed anyone in a bathroom stall.

Every game needed a few rules.

~~~~

I stepped out of Louie’s Bar & Grill with a smile on my lips, and my panties still discarded on the floor of the bathroom behind me. My hookup, Tommy or Timmy or whatever his name had been, was still in the bar behind me. He’d been fun, but I didn’t feel like spending the night at his place. Whatever happened on Saturday night stayed on Saturday night. It was like Vegas or Mexico like that.

Besides, I wasn’t in the mood to talk. It was too pretty a night. Looking up at the clear night sky, the twinkling stars were almost enough to make me forget what a terrible neighborhood I’d come to.

Looking back down to try and remember whether I needed to go right or left was a sharp reminder, though. The bar itself was an oasis of light and the safety that illumination promised, but a quick glance in any direction revealed dilapidated buildings, indecipherable graffiti, flickering street lamps and roads pockmarked with cracks and holes.

It looked a little bit like a set from a zombie movie, except that would’ve been livelier.

The booze in my system already fading, I remembered that I was staying in a cheap little dive somewhere to the left. I turned that way and began to walk. Some nights, I missed owning a car. Tonight, I just enjoyed the chill breeze on my face and between my slick thighs.

I was so distracted that I managed to get three blocks before I realized that someone was probably following me. I didn’t turn around: that would only tip my hand. Instead, I crossed an empty intersection and headed down a side street.

When I heard them speed up behind me, I was sure. I looked both ways and spotted a blind alley between a sad looking discount store and a local burger place, both closed at this hour. I ducked into it, wrinkling my nose at the stench coming from the dumpster behind the restaurant.

I put on my best doe-eyed ‘scared face,’ and turned to face the mouth of the alley. I hoped it was convincing: I practiced it in the mirror sometimes, just for kicks.

The man following me was there moments later. He was broad shouldered, dark haired and surprisingly hot in a hard bitten sort of way. Elaborate tattoos peeked out from beneath the sleeves of his leather jacket. He raised his right forefinger to his lips to shush me.

There was a shiny .45 in his left hand. He aimed it squarely at my chest, and stalked forward.

I knew I should probably lead him a little further back into the alley, just in case anybody else was around… but I was still feeling the booze a little. I couldn’t help it. I gushed, “You’re left-handed? No way! So am I!”

He stepped closer, brandished the gun and said, “Shut up, you drunk bitch. Just set the purse down and back the fuck up.” He was close enough that I could smell the scent of cigarette smoke and whiskey clinging to him.

The man must’ve followed me from the bar. I hadn’t seen him, but I hadn’t really been looking.

He must’ve misread my look for hesitation: his finger tensed on the trigger.

No matter how many times I saw that motion, it always made my heart flip in my chest, and… well. Scare a regular human, their body dumps adrenaline into their bloodstream. Lets them resist pain, perform feats of strength. Moms lifting cars off of trapped children, all that good stuff.

Whatever I had instead? It was better.

The last traces of alcohol in my system evaporated like the morning dew, and time slowed to a crawl. I slid the purse off my shoulder and let it drop. I watched his eyes flick downward, following it for a split second.

That was all the opening I needed: I lunged forward and threw a high kick at his left wrist. The gun went flying before my purse kissed the pavement. His eyes followed its arc next, wide with shock.

I pounced, grabbing him by the shoulder and slamming him against the weathered brick wall of the discount store.

He let out a yelp of pain at the impact, but he recovered with surprising speed: he grabbed my throat and squeezed as hard as he could, muscles standing out like cords beneath his tattooed arms.

Obviously, that didn’t do him much good, apart from holding me out of reach for a moment.

I shrugged out of his grip and punched him in the stomach, holding back to avoid rupturing any of his internal organs. It still knocked the wind out of him, his eyes going wide and filling with tears.

He took another swing at me anyway.

I sidestepped the clumsy charge and swatted him to the pavement as he passed me. He caught himself before he bashed his irritatingly handsome face. I kicked him in the side, but I was careful not to kill him. Really, it was more of a ‘nudge.’

He rolled onto his side in response, wide-eyed and coughing. I was mildly relieved to note that he wasn’t coughing up blood or a lung or anything. After all, he hadn’t been trying to kidnap me, rape me or wear my skin like Buffalo Bill. He was just some run-of-the-mill mugger.

Shattering his ribcage would’ve felt like overkill.

I scooped up my purse, then went for his gun.

The mugger panted, “How…?”

I turned around, his gun in hand. I pointed it at him and said, “Gimme your wallet.”

“What?” he blinked in obvious confusion.

I winked and clarified, “I learned it by watching you. Now,” a harder edge crept into my voice, and I brandished the gun for emphasis, “Seriously, a girl’s gotta eat. Toss it on the ground and scoot the fuck against the wall, bitch.”

Fumbling, he pulled an old leather bound wallet out of his jacket pocket and tossed it on the ground, expression going from fear to seething hatred. Even so, he pushed himself back against the wall.

I gave him a winsome smile and said, “You’re such a gentleman to buy me dinner, and give me a present. I don’t think it’s my color, though.” I tucked his wallet into my purse, then popped the cylinder on the revolver and let the bullets fall to the ground.

He watched them clatter around my feet in horrified fascination.

I slipped one foot out of its shiny black ankle boot. Wouldn’t want to break it: nice shoes weren’t cheap, and nothing about my durability extended to my clothes. Then I dropped the gun onto the ground in front of me and finished, “And if you ever want a girl to say ‘yes’ again, get a real job.”

Then I stomped on the revolver, shattering it.

The look on his face was priceless.

Anyway, I'm still pecking away at it, and will post a link to buy it when it's finally done. (Getting back into writing after major RL disruptions has been challenging, but this is still the best job I've ever had, and I'm enjoying getting back to it.)

Thanks again for your continued support. :)

Made a friend!

Hey, readers.

I just showed a sizzling hot new author the ropes, if you know what I mean. Her name is Ophelia Oubliette, and she just published her first story. Her blog's right here. Have a look around, and keep an eye on her for more.

As an update: I wrote several chapters of a longer work this past week. I'll post a teaser and some more information soon. :)

Back in the saddle...

Hello, readers. :)

I spent all week working on a spinoff story set in the general Conditioned to Serve universe. This one offers a glimpse into the life of the man who invented the brainwashing chair, and his first slave:

Here's a brief excerpt from it:

Friday morning was the same routine as ever: I did some chores around the house, then I hit the grocery store and got a few things I’d run out of during the week. The whole sequence was more than a little jarring. It was like if Alice took a time out from Wonderland to figure out what detergent to buy. Or, I reflected with amusement, if Debbie stopped doing Dallas just long enough to do the dishes.

The most surreal part was how easy it was to pretend that life was still normal. I didn’t have any trouble making small talk with the cashier, like I always did.

It made me wonder, as I looked around people bustling about their day, what secrets laid beneath the crushing mundanity around me. If I could be planning to go away for the weekend and play secret kinky sex games with my billionaire boss, what was everybody else hiding? Was the girl looking at summer sausage near the dairy section planning to eat them, or play with them? Did the pretty girl on TV trying to sell me a new long-distance plan know as much about three-ways as she did about three-way calls?

It was maddening, and it was hard to shake, even though I managed to keep my mouth shut about it throughout the day.

Packing my overnight bag didn’t help either. I had no idea where I was going. Was he planning illicit hotel sex, like in the movies? If he was, did I need more than a change of clothes? Surely we wouldn’t spend much time outside the room? Or maybe we were going to a beach for real. If we were, maybe I needed a swim suit.

I considered just calling him, but I could just picture Sean in a meeting with some investors, getting a call asking if his test subject needed to bring her good panties for ‘research.’ In the end, I decided it was probably smarter to just pack two bags, and wait until he’d told me where we were going before I decided to get the heavy one out of my trunk.

By the time I hit the lab, I was very glad the chair would turn my brain off a while.

It's available on Smashwords and Amazon, and B&N. 

Thanks for your patience, folks. It's nice to be back to this.

Off the flat edge of the Earth...

Hello, readers.

Sorry I've been scarce lately. I'd prefer not to go into the details of my personal life, but there was stuff going on, and it made it difficult to work. The only trouble with creative employment is that I find I need a clear head to be productive, and sometimes life has other ideas.

At the moment, I'm busy doing some spring cleaning in my work space - putting a bunch of half finished stories in a drawer where I won't keep flailing at them, setting up a little privacy - and then it's back to work as swiftly as I can.

Just wanted to assure you all that I hadn't forgotten about this place. I'll have more soon.

New anthology out in time for the weekend.

Hey, loyal readers.

I have been roped into helping a family member move, this week. The bad news is that my newest original piece is only about halfway done.

The good news is that I'm making another anthology available. I enjoyed putting together Writhing Touches, and want to continue offering bundles of related stories. Here's the new one:

This one contains All Dolled Up: Transformation, Brainwashed Company Slaves: The Bet, and Wage Slave Bukkake.

It's available for sale on Smashwords, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Also, real life should be calming down significantly in the near future. I'm excited about it. I miss this place when I'm not putting out new material. It's funny how fast it's become home.

Thanks again for all your support. :)