Sunday, September 18, 2011

Fire and Passion! Six Sentence Sunday...

Here's a little offering from my short story The Great Rite of the Golden Coven. This is a tale about an ancient grimoire written by a very old Celtic god, and it's affect on a coven of Romany Chohawnis (witches) who obtain its possession for the Long Night (Yule) sabbat.

*   *   *   *   *

“Come, Gueri Chohawni!”  the voice called me again and, reluctantly, I stepped towards the fire.  The heat grew, and I almost stepped back, but, gathering my courage, and feeding off the growing passion in my womb, I stepped closer and closer to the flames.  My legs trembled as I approached the edge, and I stopped and looked up into the centre of the fire.  There, at the heart of the flames, glistening and radiant, right in the middle of the stone slab, a large golden phallus, identical in design to those that capped the rods of the scroll, stood beckoning to my desire.  The vision filled my eyes and inflamed my heart and yoni with a wanton, aching lust! 

I swallowed hard, and stepped forward again.

*   *   *   *   *
Looks like someone is heading for a LOT of fun!


Saturday, September 17, 2011


I love the moonlight glistening on your body’s shimmering glow,
Watching waves of pleasure ripple upwards from below.
Tongue-deep in that muskiness that drives the mind insane,
Listening to your growing moans – “Again!  Again!  Again!”

Ashen White

A Pleiades of Tarot

I humbly dedicate this entry to one of the brightest and most inspiring stars in my Twitterverse, @RemittanceGirl

*   *   *   *   *

As the heat of Summer starts to wane, and the seamless tan begins to fade back to paleness, the nights continue to lengthen, and the constellations of Winter start to slowly appear in the eternal blackness of Night. Chief among these, and certainly the most recognizable, is the impressive and mighty Orion, with his tell-tale belt and sword, and the ponderous red giant, Betelguese. Trailing behind the great hunter are his dogs, the Canis constellations, lead by the brightest star in our night skies, Sirius.

However, more important to us devotees of Tarot is the constellation that precedes Orion, the Zodiac constellation of Taurus the Bull. Hidden within this beast, just above his left shoulder, is the marvellous open cluster of The Pleiades, or The Seven Sisters. This group of stars is deeply associated with the Major Arcana card of The Star, and is frequently included in the imagery of the card.

Fenestra Star

The sisters that make up the seven are the daughters of the Titan Atlas, who holds the World up on his shoulders, and Pleione, and are the virgin consorts of the god Artemis.  They are, from brightest to dullest, Alcyone, Electra, Maia, Merope, Teygeta, Celano and Sterope. They ended up in the heavens as a way of protecting them forever from the unwanted advances of Orion, who still chases after them.  Now, Aldebaran, The Follower, runs behind them, as they cry across the sky.

In Tarot, The Star is most often represented as a beautiful naked woman, standing or kneeling at the edge of a pond or river, with one foot or her knee on the land, and the other in the water.  In each hand she holds a pitcher or chalice of water, the contents of which she pours onto the land and into the stream.  Above her head shine, not seven, but eight stars - the Seven Sisters, and her own, super-bright star.

Rider-Waite Star
The Star is the great card of Hope, signifying success and achievement in our future. Whether the reading revolves around relationships and love, or business and material possessions, The Star indicates that all desires can and will be satisfied, and, when coupled with a positive card such as the 10 of Cups, promises a host of bright and happy possibilities.  One deck I have - the Mythic Tarot - even identifies the naked woman on The Star card as Pandora, kneeling before the fabled box as the Evils stream out into an unsuspecting World, while the glowing Star that remains with her is Hope.

The waters that flow from the pitchers or cups of The Star represent the Water of Life.  That flowing onto the dry land provides nourishment to the plants and animals that dwell there, while the water flowing into the river indicates the completion of the cycle that draws moisture up from the lakes and oceans, into the skies to form clouds that will, eventually, feed the rains that fall.

Egyptian Star

So now we have an understanding of how one card that appears to be so simple in its imagery actually ties together many aspects of science, philosophy and mythology.  The Star represents one of the keenest integrations in Tarot of these major aspects of our human existence, and, as such, is always one of the most interesting designs in any Tarot deck.  Maybe that is why I always seem to have a soft spot for this most interesting of cards in the decks I collect.  Next time you pull out your Tarot cards, spend a few minutes looking over The Star, so you can learn how the artistry in your card ties together these themes, and brings to your readings the beauty and hope we are all looking for!

Let's keep gazin' up at the beauty of The Stars, both in the sky and in our cards!

Ashen xxx

The Pleiades

Book Review: Best of Both by Miranda Forbes

Check out my review of the hot and steamy Best of Both from Miranda Forbes at Xcite Books on the Simply Erotic Reviews website.


Sunday, August 7, 2011

Revisiting Nancy Friday...

A few weeks ago I was rummaging through the hoards of dealers at the Aberfoyle Antiques Market near Guelph, Ontario, when, hidden away at the top of a crumbling pile of old books, I found an early edition of My Secret Garden by Nancy Friday.  Nancy was pretty much the first writer to expose women as the sexual beings they really are, and at a time when, even though Women's Lib was the in-thing, the acceptance of female sexuality beyond that of being a satisfier of the needs of men was still some time in the future.

In her introduction to My Secret Garden, Nancy explains that a novel she had been working on for some years, and which included some female erotic scenes, had received so much negative commentary from her publisher that she felt compelled to "shelve" the project, and concentrate on other work. That "other work" eventually evolved into My Secret Garden, a collection of women's erotic fantasies Nancy gathered together, originally from her close circle of family and friends, but then from the large numbers of letters she received in reply to her advertisement:

wanted by serious female researcher.
Anonymity guaranteed. Box XYZ...

The resulting avalanche of stories that Nancy received in her mail covered an incredible range of sexual activities, including many aspects of behaviour that even today's modern eroticists tend to steer clear of. Detailed fantasies of incest, rape, bestiality and pedophilia are presented alongside those of less nefarious acts, including inter-racial sex, lesbianism, domination, group sex - in fact, just about every sexual practice we eroticists love to write about is covered somewhere in this book!

But this book is more than just a collection of salubrious scenes presented without rhyme or reason! Far from it! Nancy arranges these confessions of feminine fantasy into a number of groups, dividing them along threads of justification, then activity, then a grouping detailing the origins of the fantasies discussed. There's a section on women's guilt at having their fantasies, and a short section on the anxiety of men knowing such fantasies exist. The penultimate chapter discusses various outcomes when fantasies are accepted by the parties, and the book closes with a chapter of "Quickies".

In presenting these scenes, Nancy keeps to the graphic language that the submissions use, which, for that time, was bound to be highly controversial.  Such language and scenery was usually found in the pages of mens pornographic magazines and, occassionally, in newer, cult novels of the era, but most certainly not in a serious deposition on sexual mores. However, the unbridled success of the book laid the foundation for many more sexually explicit publications, and especially paved the way for the incredible growth of female erotica authors who now knew that they were neither alone nor abnormal to have the fantasies they had, and to write them down for presentation to the field of avid readers who were waiting for them. Erotica was no longer the exclusive domain of the male, and we women owe a great debt to Nancy and her peers for breaking those rules and the iron grip the publishing industry had on who was allowed to write and publish erotica.

Nancy has continued to write on the same subject matter for almost the last 40 years, and has a number of works to her credit.  She followed up My Secret Garden with Forbidden Flowers, a further study in women's sexual fantasies. Another work, My Mother, My Self, investigates the complex relationship between mothers and daughters, and how this drives the patterns of future relationships throughout the daughter's life. Most recently, in 2009, she published Beyond My Control - Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age, that investigates the effects that the unbound female sexuality have had on erotica and erotic fantasies since the publication of My Secret Garden.

For any would-be eroticist, My Secret Garden and its sequels are required reading, as they place female-focussed erotica right alongside the more pornographic style of erotic tales more generally enjoyed by the male section of our audience, and ensures that we all understand that women deserve to have that kind of literature available to them just as much as men deserve theirs. 

Let's keep having fun out there!


Friday, July 22, 2011

Book Review: Dark Desires edited by Miranda Forbes

Check out my review of Dark Desires, a collection of paranormal erotica edited by Miranda Forbes, on Simply Erotic Reviews.

Hot tales to creep you awake at Night!


Saturday, June 11, 2011

Before and After?

This one is dedicated to Tiffany Reisz (@tiffanyreisz) for the happy tweets and chats.  Good luck with the novel, honey, and, if you need any help - you know where to grab me! ;-)

*   *   *   *   *

It's always a constant pleasure to me to see how many ways the female of our species is used (and frequently abused) in the artwork that makes up so many Tarot decks.  It's natural, of course, to recognise the beauty of our female form in so many homages, and it does appear with significant strength in many of the symbolic characters in Tarot - The Priestess, Strength, The Star, Justice, The World, etc - but the real challenge of the artist is to come up with a new, fresh visual interpretation that can portray to the reader an underlying message that can, subsequently, be used to invest and interpret a spread for a querant.

Regular visitors to my blog will be well aware of my love and fascination for the 10 of Swords from the Fenestra Tarot (see below), which is one of those powerful abuses that is visually and emotionally appealing, whether you are invested in the meaning of the card or not. Recently, I encountered the 8 of Swords from the Legacy of the Divine Tarot, and the striking resemblance to the Fenestra 10 of Swords struck me so much, it inspired me to write this blog entry.

The Legacy of the Divine card shows the lissome female form, barely clothed in a flimsy wrap, suspended in the giant web of some unseen creature, while the 8 swords of the card race from various angles to pierce her waiting, ensnared flesh.  Fortunately for her, she is blindfolded by the wrap, and thus not aware of the fate that  is rapidly approaching her.

The 8 of Swords is known in Tarot as the Card of the Captive, and, to some, is meant to portray the beautiful Andromeda, chained to the rock, an offering to the sea-monster Cetus, as a punishment for her mother, Cassiopeia, bragging about her own beauty.  A case of the Sins of the Mother, if ever there was one! 

The 8 of Swords symbolizes a crisis in the life of the Querant, although not a crisis that is without hope. Andromeda was rescued by the erstwhile Perseus, fresh from his victory over the hideous Medusa.

By the time we get to the 10 of Swords, however, all hope is lost! The 10 of Swords is by far the most final and fatal card in Tarot! While many gawk at the maleficence of Death, or the drastic might of The Tower, these merely symbolize great change or calamity. Not so the 10 of Swords. The card usually depicts a male figure whose back is pierced by the 10 swords, signifying a cruel death or finality from the ultimate betrayal.

In the Fenestra version of the card, Chatriya has replaced the male with another lissome female.  Again, she is semi-clothed by the flimsy wrap - this one more transparent than that of the 8 above, and also torn by the swords. The 10 swords pierce her body in cruel yet passionate thrusts, suspending her pale, prone form against the colourful yet barren landscape. This truly is the "After" version of the 8 of Swords above, and the two cards counterpoint each other with their symbolic beauty and grace.

*   *   *   *   *

Two other cards from the Legacy of the Divine Tarot by Ciro Marchetti also struck me with a special appeal.  These are the Queen of Swords and the Queen of Coins, both of which are shown below.

The Queen of Swords is a powerful, dangerous beauty, whose cold gaze belies the passion in her soul. Her tanned skin and muscular form are designed to be appealing and mesmerizing in the same way a Cobra charms her prey. I have to say, I find her tattoos very appealing, too!

The Queen of Coins is also a very appealing beauty, although at a much more feminine level than her sister, the Queen of Swords. Unfortunately, the colour on this particular scan does not represent the true colours of the card itself, and the skin tone and eye and hair colours on the actual card remind me very, very much of the woman I used as the inspiration for my short story Dining Out Tonight, which appears on Every Night Erotica, and which is an extract from a much longer tale.

Take care, y'all, until next time!


Saturday, June 4, 2011

#SnippetSaturday - Sisters, Sisters, Sisters

Hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend so far! We are having Thunderstorms right now, so I thought I'd heat things up with a snippet from another thread in my Parallel Lives novel!  This one is a really steamy snippet from a *memoir* of one of the male protagonists, a well-endowed chap with a very happy situation! The story is sub-titled "That's What Sisters Are For".

*  *  *  *  *

I remember, when Maggie was out clubbing it, dressed like the sexy little nympho she was, how I’d lie naked in bed in the early hours of the morning, pretending to be asleep as she walked into the bedroom, my massive erection just barely covered by the bed sheet.  Always hoping she’d see it and, assuming I was asleep, take advantage of my rampant manhood and indulge her wildest passions!  Ah – such hopes!

Then, one night just so, she came home slightly later than usual, and a little noisier and drunker, and not alone.  She had, apparently, met up with three of her sisters while out on the town, and the four of them were well along the road of happy intoxication.  There were lots of giggles, “Sh’shings” and stumbles as the four of them climbed the stairs to our apartment and piled into the living room.

I knew Maggie would come into our bedroom to check on Yasmin, the baby, to make sure she was ok, so I prepared myself as usual, following the process with high hopes.  Hey – the drunker she was, short of passing out or puking up, the hornier she was!

A few moments later, the bedroom door slowly opened, and, as expected, Maggie came into the bedroom to check on Yasmin.  I watched her covertly through almost closed eyes.  She was very unsteady on her feet, and quickly took off her heels and kicked them under the bed.  She walked – almost staggered (I was feeling really lucky!) – over to the crib and quickly made sure that Yasmin was asleep and duly covered, then she sat on the corner of the bed with her back to me, her hands down by her sides on the cover, as if trying to steady herself.  I could hear the three sisters laughing and fooling about in the living room, and the clink of bottles as they plundered our liquor supplies.  Maggie seemed as if she was just going to join them, when the bedroom door moved again, and the youngest sister, Kay, came into the room.  She saw Maggie sitting on the bed, and, also unsteadily, stepped over to her.

“Are you ok, Mags?” she asked, putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder and peering into her face.

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Maggie, in her high-pitched, nasal voice.  “Just taking off my shoes ‘n’ stuff.”

Kay moved over to the baby’s crib, and peered in at Yasmin.

“Isn’t she pretty, lying there all cozy and warm?” she burbled.

“Shush!” said Maggie, a bit unkindly.  “You’ll wake her up!”

Just then, Corinna, the middle sister came into the room, too.  “What are you two up to,” she asked quietly, also looking into the crib to see how Yasmin was. 

“Not a lot,” replied Maggie, slipping off her jacket and going into the bathroom and closing the door.  The two sisters regarded Yasmin for a moment, then Corinna looked over at me on the bed, and gave a little giggle.  Nudging Kay, she said under her breath, “look at that!”  Kay looked over at me, and gasped.

“That can’t be real!” she whispered.  “That’s freakin’ huge!  It can’t be real!  He’s just kidding, right?”

Corinna walked over to the foot of the bed, to get a closer look.  I lay there quietly, putting on my best sleeping act ever, my good ol’ lad standing proud and tall, getting hotter by the moment with all of the attention.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “We’ll have to ask Mags when she gets out of there.”

Right on queue, the toilet in the bathroom flushed.  A few moments later, after washing her hands, Maggie emerged from the bathroom and closed the door behind her.  She walked slowly toward the bedroom door, ignoring her two sisters, and was just about to head out of the room, when Corinna stopped her.

“Hey, Maggie, is that for real?” she asked, gesturing with a thumb at my covered throbbing erection.  Maggie stopped to look at me, then flushed slightly and smiled.  Walking over to the bed, she took the corner of the sheet that was all that was covering me, in her hand, and pulled the cover off me, exposing me to the three of them!  My lad had been caught in a fold of the sheet, but quickly sprang back to full attention, hard, erect, and enormous!  The two sisters gasped, and Kay moved over to the side of the bed to get a closer look.

“That’s freakin’ unbelievable!” whispered Corinna.

“It’s freakin’ beautiful,” said Kay.

“It takes some getting used to,” said Maggie, matter-of-factly.  “It can hurt at first, especially if you’ve just come and you’re all tight, but that wears off eventually – with practice, and lots of lubrication!  He’s very proud of his size, and what guy wouldn’t be if they had a cock that big?  Always says he could’ve made a fortune in the pornos.”  She chuckled quietly.

“He still could,” said Corinna.  “That’s if he can keep it hard long enough in front of all those people.  Look at those nuts, too!  So large and smooth, and so-o nicely shaped.”

“Yeah, he likes to keep ‘em hairless,” said Maggie.  “Says it makes him feel sexy!”  She started walking unsteadily out of the room, heading for the living room.  “I need another drink,” she said.

Corinna sat down on the corner of the bed, looking at my throbbing cock.  “That’s fuckin’ beautiful,” she sighed again.  Kay moved closer to her.  “I mean,” Corinna continued, “look at those veins, and the soft underside.  All perfect.”  Suddenly I felt a prick at the base of my cock, just above the scrotum, that moved slowly up the soft underside of the shaft almost to the head.  Corinna had run her little fingernail up my dick!  I mumbled something sleepily incomprehensible, and move slightly on the bed.

“What you doin’?” hissed Kay, somewhat alarmed.

“Did you see that?” Corinna replied in wonder.  “When I did that, his balls moved too.”  She giggled quietly.

“Where?” Kay asked in disbelief.

“Watch closely,” said Corinna.  I felt the prick again, this time a little harder, and moving a little slower, inexorably up my shaft.  I could feel my scrotum tighten as Corinna’s fingernail moved higher and higher.  “See,” she said, triumphantly.

“That’s amazin’!” said Kay in awe.  “Why’s it doing that?”

“It’s getting ready to fuck, that’s why,” replied Corinna.  “Getting those two tender balls safely tucked away so that they don’t get damaged by the activity of fucking!”  She said the word with relish, as if it tasted good in her mouth.

“Can’t say I’ve ever noticed that with Dave,” Kay said.

“Yeah, well, he’s hardly the same size as this now, is he?”  Corinna chuckled.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling awfully wet right now!”  She giggled again.

“Mmm, me too,” whispered Kay, longingly.  Just then, the elder sister, Julie, walked into the room, dressed very smartly, as she always was, with a well-filled glass of my very expensive malt whisky in her hand.  Maggie and Julie were definitely the best looking of all the sisters, and the thought of her looking me over in full flight, as it were, made my heartbeat quicken and my prick harden even more, if that were possible.

“Maggie says you two are in here sight-seeing,” Julie said.  “So, what you both lookin…”  She stopped talking when she saw what her sisters were looking at!  Slowly she walked around the bed to where the two women were, keeping the spectacle of my hardness in view as she moved.  “Fuck me!” she gasped after a few moments.  “That’s fuckin’ huge!  How in the name of hell does Maggie cope with that monster, she’s so small?”  She nudged her way between Corinna and Kay to get closer to the bed.  “Oh my, that’s a thing of beauty!  I wish I had a camera.”  Her remark brought a chuckle from Corinna’s lips.

Suddenly I felt a cold hand take hold of my scrotum and squeeze my right testicle gently.  “Nice!” Julie said appreciatively.  “So firm and warm.”  The hand left my balls, and its cold grip asserted itself on the shaft of my cock, just below the head.  Gently but insistently it pulled down my foreskin, all the way, exposing the growing bulge of my glans and the soft, red skin beneath it.  Kay moaned quietly, deep in her throat, while Corinna sucked a breath in between her teeth.

“Look at that,” she sighed.  “So fuckin’ purple and hot!”  I faked a moan, and squirmed a little on the bed, taking the opportunity to pump my penis a little harder, inflating the glans even more.  Julie’s hand maintained its grip, her thin fingers long and strong, and all three women “Mmm’d” as I squirmed.  I moved my right leg up and out, leaving it a little crooked, allowing easier access to my junk.  I then settled down as if back into deep sleep.

Julie continued to hold my cock tightly in her by now warm hand.  She looked aside at both of her sisters, then, turning her head to Corinna, she said, “here, hold this for me.”  She took a big mouthful of scotch and handed her glass to her sister.  She climbed on to the bed on her knees, and up between my legs.  Keeping my foreskin pulled right back, she placed her lips on the tip of my penis, and slowly pushed her mouth down onto my swollen glans, trying all the while to prevent the whisky from escaping down the shaft.  The alcohol in the whisky, coupled with the heat of her mouth, had an almost immediate effect, making the blood rush even quicker to my burning manhood.  Julie sucked me gently for a few moments, but she was obviously having a problem coping with both the size of my cock and the effects of the scotch in her mouth, and, after a very short while, she pulled herself off me, letting the whisky run down my shaft and onto my balls.  She raised her head up and licked her lips, trying unsuccessfully to prevent the scotch from running down her chin and neck.

*  *  *  *  *

Hot or what, eh?  And there's a whole lot more where that came from! I hope you liked what you read, and, if you did, leave me a comment.

Happy Sexy Saturday Reading, y'all!


Follow Woes...

Hi everyone!

Just a quickie (yum!) to let you all know that, like many other bloggers, I am having trouble with Followers and Posting Comments.

If you do follow me, or have trouble posting a comment, and either doesn't show up, please drop me an e-mail at so I know you're trying to connect.

Hopefully those deligtful people at will get this issue resolved soon, as it's affecting a lot of bloggers out there!!


Friday, June 3, 2011

Song for the Age!

This song has long been one of my favourites, and it's lyrics are as relevant today as they were when the song was written, and even long before that!  They are relevant for all of recorded Human History!

I am the one Orgasmatron - the outstretched, grasping hand.
My image is of agony! My servants rape the land.
Obsequious and arrogant! Clandestine and vain!
Five thousand years of misery, of torture in my name!
Hypocrisy made paramount! Paranoia the law!
My name is called Religion - sadistic, sacred whore!

I twist the truth, I rule the World, my crown is called Deceit!
I am the Emperor of Lies! You grovel at my feet!
I rob you and I slaughter you! Your downfall is my gain,
And still you play the psychophant, and revel in your pain!
And all my promises are lies, all  my love is hate!
I am the Politician, and I decide your fate!

I march before a martyred world, an army for the fight!
I speak of great, heroic days, of victory and might!
I hold a banner drenched in blood! I urge you to be brave!
I lead you to your destiny! I lead you to your grave!
Your bones will build my palaces, your eyes will stud my crown!
For I am Mars, the God of War, and I will cut you down!

Fantastic image that - your eyes will stud my crown! Neil Young may be the Godfather of Grunge, but Motorhead were the Kings, and Lemmy's gravel voice only serves to add to that overall roughness and edginess the group were famous for.

I only made one subtle change to the lyric - see if you can spot it. And enjoy the song!


Monday, April 25, 2011

Carnal Machines edited by D.L. King : Book Review...

Those wonderful people at Cleis Press sent me a copy of Carnal Machines, edited by D.L. King, to review, and, I have to say, I am highly impressed by this collection of hot Steampunk Erotica.

I have to be honest and say that Steampunk was not a genre I had ventured into much in the past, even less so erotica in that genre, so I was keen to be exposed to what I considered to be, for me, virgin territory!  Sure, I have read the entire collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, as well as a large number of other Victorian classics - and there are a LOT of those - so I have an impression of what to expect from fiction based in that period. I was, therefore, doubly interested to see how eroticists handled that era, bearing in mind the ubiqitous belief that the Victorian era was one of sexual repression and inhibition.  The other aspect of the collection that intrigued me was the "Machines" part of the equation! There is something wanton and naughtily delicious about the thought of a machine that can satisfy our sexual cravings, removing the dependence on the time, mood, and capability of other humans, which I was looking forward to discovering in these stories!

Oh, dear! How naughty of me!!!

Carnal Machines is a collection of 14 short erotica stories, covering all aspects of the era popularized through the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jules Verne and H.G Wells.  Anyone who has seen the recent series of Doctor Who will appreciate the modern attempts to bring the Steampunk era back to life in the most inventive ways - and these stories are very inventive!

Like all good reviewers (so modest of me!), I started at the back of the book with The Succubus by Elizabeth Schechter. This delightful story had little to do with the occult, as the title seemed to indicate. It was, however, the start of a tantalizing and sensual ride through a varied range of stimulating, entertaining tales.

I read the tales in random fashion, enjoying each for its own unique take on the many and varied types of machinery invented for the purpose of satisfying our carnal needs. Some, like the ingenuous Dr. Mullaley, aren't content with just the one machine, inventing a whole series of devices designed to cure the ailments of those poor Victorian ladies whose husband's either have negelected or are not skilled enough to satisfy them! A common complaint, it seems, judging by the Doctor's over-filled appointment book! Other machines are designed to reduce men to that state of compliance and obedience wherein they are most amenable - another popular theme - while there are entertaining attempts at creating the perfect woman, a steamy oriental adventure in Hong Kong, a wonderfully ruthless Russian dominatrix, and yet more "fucking" machines! There's even a home visit by the venerable Doctor Watson!

I love this collection for its inventiveness alone, not to mention the wonderfully wanton feelings stirred up by the activities described. While some of the tales have the technological feel of Doctor Durand Durand's love machine in "Barbarella", the fun and ingenuity shine through to make this more than just a collection of erotica. It is Steampunk fiction at its best. My personal favourites are Dr. Mullaley's Cure by Delilah Devlin, and Deviant Devices by Kannan Feng, but there's enough here to satisfy every taste.

Carnal Machines, edited by D.L. King, with stories by Teresa Noelle Roberts, Janine Ashbless, Renee Michaels, Poe Von Page, Kannan Feng, Jay Lawrence, Delilah Devlin, Lisabet Sarai, Kathleen Bradean, Elias A. St. James, Essemoh Teepee, D.L. King, Tracey Shellito and Elizabeth Schechter.

Happy reading!


Saturday, April 2, 2011

Necronomicon - Tarot and World!

I have enjoyed a lot of activity and feedback since I first posted a review of the Necronomicon Tarot at the end of January.  Some of this is based on the "Tarot" side of the equation, and some centres around the "Necronomicon" part of the subject matter. 

Ye Elder Sign
The Necronomicon is a constant source of discussion and research.  Even today, scholars and researchers cannot answer whether this is purely a work of fiction developed by H. P. Lovecraft as a foundation on which to base his tales of the Cthulhu Mythos, or if it actually has some basis in long lost arcane or occult works by the "mad arab" Abdul Alhazrad or others. The argument itself matters little, as what really matters to most is - even if Lovecraft invented the term and parts of the content himself, what did he base his research on in the first place?  One only has to delve a little to discover many corollaries to the "Book of Dead Names" and various other so-called Dark Grimoires.  One of the most famous of these is the Egyptian "Book of the Dead", which is actually a manual that teaches the soul of the deceased what they need to do to survive in the afterlife.

One aspect that has fed into the confusion surrounding The Necronomicon is that there are published versions of book that purport to be historical works that predate anything Lovecraft wrote.  The entire work has taken on a mythos of its own, so that no one can for certain say that this is really and totally a work of fiction!  And wouldn't that be the way Lovecraft would have wanted it to be?

One of the most popular of these "real" versions is known as the Simon Necronomicon. This version draws on historical occult and religious works from Sumerian-Babylonian mythology, and attempts to correlate the gods of those pantheons to that of Lovecraft's Necronomicon. It also describes a number of "religious" practices and observations that should be followed in order to summon the power of The Old Ones and have them obey your bidding.  This is typical of many so-called Grimoires, promising powers, or success, or many other wants and needs of those disposed to tempt their sacred and dangerous rites and rituals! Oh - the Joy! The Pain!

And such a fountain of imagination for horror writers and would-be occultists to enthral their audiences with!

Which brings us to Tyson's trilogy of Necronomicon-inspired works, culminating in The Necronomicon Tarot.  Tyson is a well-read researcher into all things occult and magical, and his website - - is a rich resource for any would-be magicians, occultists and workers in the darker realms! He even has an excellent introduction to the origins of Tarot - The Truth About The Tarot - which I thoroughly recommend as a worthwhile read.

Tyson's three works on The Necronomicon are:
Tyson's intention in producing these works is to provide a more realistic provenance for The Necronomicon, satisfying the cravings of occult researchers and investigators stirred up by H.P. Lovecraft in the 1920's. Tyson's Necronomicon is a much more complete and detailed version than any other I have read, and should really be considered the de facto standard for what is, after all, a fictional work.  I am less convinced in the value of his early biography of Alhazred, but it is an interesting read nonetheless. In his tarot, Tyson has tried to visualize - in some cases very successfully - the imagery of The Necronomicon in order to allow diviners to derive readings from the visions portrayed. Also, by tying a storyline to each of the four suites of the Minor Arcana, he has made the deck easier to use for novice diviners, as they have less to do to create a story themselves.

One of the "warmer" places in The Necronomicon is Leng, which Tyson has portrayed in the scenery and content of XVIII The Moon: The Hounds of Leng.  This is described in another version of The Necronomicon:

 "Know ye time-shunned Leng by the ever-burning evil-fires and ye foul screeching of the scaly Shantak birds which ride the upper air; by the howling of ye Na-hag who brood in nighted caverns and haunt men's dreams with strange madness, and by the grey stone temple beneath the Night Gaunts lair, wherein is he who wears the Yellow Mask and dwelleth all alone."

Almost sounds like a version of Jabberwocky!

Another ominous and doom-ridden place is the mountian of Kadath. This warm and inviting spot is described in The Necronomicon much as Chekov describes Ceti Alpha 5 in The Wrath of Khan - the "garden spot" of evil!

"What man knoweth Kadath?
For who shall know of that
which ever abides in strange-time,

twix yesterday, today and the morrow."

"Unknown amidst ye Cold Waste lieth the mountain of Kadath where upon the hidden summit an Onyx Castle stands. Dark clouds shroud the mighty peak that gleams 'neath ancient stars where silent brood the titan towers and rear forbidden walls."

Sounds like just the place to spend some quality time with a few witches, demons, and ravenous, nymphomaniac banshees, eh? 

Tyson actually has two additional works based on The Necronomicon - The Grimoire of the Necronomicon, and The 13 Gates of the Necronomicon - but I cannot find any details about these works other than the blurb on, and they do not appear on his website.  Shame, Donald - update your internet presence!
Have fun out there, y'all!!

The Eye of Ashen White

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Summer driving season is here!!!

"What's that?" I hear you say! "Summer driving season?  Where?"

Welcome to Canada. folks!

Seasoned Canadians know there's only two seasons north of the border - Winter and Construction!  As soon as the snow starts to melt, and the Sun starts to shine with warmth rather than apathy, then the work on fixing and improving the highways begins.  And to cope with those horrible conditions, we need real vehicles!

Getting the Defender ready for Summer!
 A Land Rover Defender is the only vehicle that can cope with the state of the roads in Ontario.  Other SUV's are mostly just car chassis' dressed up with unstable shells.  Not the Defender!  It's built for real off-road use, and these Ontario roads can be really off!  But in this baby, you can go anywhere the fancy takes you.  And my fancy takes me to many weird and wonderful places, believe me!  So well worth the effort to import!

I'll keep you posted on my travels.
Safe driving, everyone!


Saturday, March 12, 2011

Guest Blog - Indigo Skye...

Today I am honoured and delighted to hand over my blog to showcase the wonderful and talented Indigo Skye for an appearance on her Her Captive Muse blog tour.

 Indigo Skye is a writer, photographer, and artist living in the American Southwest. Her first novel, Her Captive Muse, was released by Noble Romance in January of 2011.

Indigo's short story, "True Confession," was included in the erotica anthology, Uniform Behavior.

Her poetry, articles, and fiction have been widely published online. A full list of published works is available on her blog,

To connect with Ms. Skye, please send an email to...
For a chance to win  a copy of Her Captive Muse, see Indigo's Tasty Competition below!!

Now, read on for a special excerpt from Her Captive Muse.

When Brendan Delaney answered an ad for an artist's model, he was looking for an easy way to earn some extra cash. But Morgan Roan wanted more than just a model. Soon, Brendan finds himself caught in a web of deception and desire, lust and betrayal—her captive muse. What price pleasure?

Chapter Five

"I've wanted to fuck you since we first met," Morgan said. "That's one of the main reasons I hired you." She stripped off her silky gown.

"Why didn't you mention that in the interview?" He tweaked one nipple. "I would have jumped you then and there."

"Oh?" She raised a brow and gave him a skeptical look, as though she suspected he was just being kind.

"In a heartbeat." Brendan grinned and kissed her again. "But you were such a bitch! I thought you hated me or something."

"I can be a bitch. Especially when I get nervous. That's when the claws come out." She raked her nails down his chest, and he shivered. "My shrink says it's a defense mechanism."

"I make you nervous?"

"That's one way to put it."

"Do I?" He nibbled at her throat, sampling the delicate flesh there. She tasted of jasmine and smoke.


"Good." Brendan smiled and gave her a lingering kiss. "You make me nervous, too."

"In a good way?" She wrapped one of his curls around her finger and gave it a little tug.

"In the best way." God, she made him horny.

"You should be nervous. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"I can't wait to find out." Brendan tried to keep his words light, but a tremor of uneasiness broke through. He'd been around the block a few times, but he sure as hell wasn't Dong Juan. He had a few moves—strictly amateur—a little experience, and a whole lot of enthusiasm. But Morgan was older—more sophisticated than the girls he'd been with in the past. Plus, she had tons of money, was famous, and wicked kinky. The Jim Morrison of the art world.

He knew her dark desires before they ever met—you could tell just by looking at her paintings. He'd studied them in Modern Art 101. Her typical subjects were fragile young men chained to beds or bound on their hands and knees. He remembered their bodies—thin and bruised and beautiful anyway—as if they'd been beaten with whips and chains. Beautiful . . . in spite of the pain or because of it. She took their scars and made them sing—made them shine. It was her gift.

She eats guys like me for breakfast. Morgan reminded him of the praying mantises he'd seen on the nature channel. What if she broke out the whips and chains and hot candle wax and shit? Could he ever hope to please a woman like that? He didn't know, but he was determined to try.

"Tell me something." She broke away from his embrace in the middle of a very hot kiss.

"What? Ask me anything." He was rock-hard and more than a little distracted.

"Have you ever done this before?"

Fuck. Busted. "What, kissing?" he asked. He laughed, tried to sound casual. "Sure."

"No—have you ever had sex?"

"Yeah." He worked to keep a defensive tone from creeping into his voice. When she stayed silent, he pressed her. "Why? Am I doing something wrong?"

"No. Just—you seem shy. Nervous. I don't know." She shrugged.

"I'm just trying to take it slow." Brendan stroked the curve of her hip. "I don't want to scare you." He bent to kiss her breasts again.

She laughed, hard and loud. "You're not going to scare me." She shoved him back down on the bed and straddled his hips. "I might scare you, but you couldn't scare me if you tried. Anyway, I don't want you to scare me."

"What do you want?" He bucked his hips beneath her, horny and impatient. "I'm not psychic."

"Just be sweet to me—and fuck me all night long." She ran her long fingers down his chest toward his cock. "Can you?" she asked. "Be sweet?"

"I'll fuck you until you scream. I'll stay in bed with you all weekend—never mind all night. But sweetness?" Now it was his turn to laugh. "I can try. But I gotta warn you, I'm not very good at sweet. If you're after sugar and spice and everything nice, you might have the wrong guy." Brendan smiled and pinched her ass.

"You'll learn," she said. "The willingness to try is everything—in life and in art."

"If you say so." His cock jumped at her feather-light touch.

"I do." She grinned and stroked him harder. With one cool hand, Morgan grasped the base of his shaft. She slipped a condom over the tip and rolled it down the hard curve of his cock. Morgan kissed him, pressing her breasts against his chest. She rubbed up against his body and spread her legs wide. Her cunt opened for him like a flower and he eased his cock into her tight little slit.

She took just the tip at first, refusing to lower herself farther onto his aching shaft, the little tease. "Beg me for it."

"Please. Please fuck me."

In the next breathless moment, she embraced it all. So hot and wet—goddamn! Brendan gasped in pleasure. Morgan's pussy gripped his shaft with surprising strength when he tried to pull out.

"Wait, not yet." Morgan ground her hips against him in a hypnotic figure eight—the symbol of infinity made flesh. Brendan closed his eyes and bit down hard on his bottom lip. He took a deep breath, trying to control his wild urge to flip her over, take control, and fuck her brains out.

In his mind, Brendan went to the beach. Silky white sand sifted beneath his bare feet. The wind blew his hair back from his face—he could almost smell the salty tang of the sea. He sighed. California—always wanted to go there. Maybe someday. He felt the sun beat down on his face. Her pussy was so good—tight and hot—slick with her juices. The slow rhythm of her hips rocked him like gentle waves breaking against the shore.

Morgan closed her eyes and danced to some unknown drummer, increasing her pace until the gentle waves built into a tsunami. She rocked her hips back and forth, faster and faster. Brendan gripped her ass and thrust hard inside her cunt. He watched her face as she moaned and arched her back in the ecstatic release of her climax. The sudden, joyful spasm of her pussy muscles around his cock triggered his own orgasm. He emptied his balls—every last drop—and cried out her name.

"Oh, Morgan, oh God, oh God, oh Jesus!"

After, they lay in bed together, sharing a smoke.

"Is it safe to say you had a religious experience?" She teased him about his earlier pleasure-filled shouts.

"Hallelujah. Amen." He smiled and blew a lazy smoke ring. It hung in the air above them, twisted itself into a figure eight as it faded, and then dissipated. "That was fucking amazing."

"That was amazing fucking," she said with a crooked little grin. "Let's go again."

*   *   *   *   *

Now, as an extra special treat, here is a spicy recipe from Indigo, and a chance to win a copy of Her Captive Muse.

Passion Pie:
A Steamy Recipe by Indigo Skye!

Yield: Will serve two people for years if properly prepared and stored somewhere warm.

Mix two cups of patience with an equal amount of love. Add respect- a liberal amount. Blend well, and roll out into a circle. Press into a pie pan. Must be thick and strong.

Simmer one cup of scanty lingerie over a low flame. Add thirteen pornographic films, a vibrator, three feathers, a pair of sexy high-heel shoes, and two burning red candles. Add a dash of champagne and a pinch of surprise. Bring to a boil repeatedly for the rest of your life. Serve often, garnished with honey and cayenne pepper to taste.

For your chance to win a copy of Her Captive Muse, simply answer this question as a comment below!

What's your favorite way of spicing up a sexy encounter?

If you would like to get in touch with Indigo, or follow her blog, or buy a copy of Her Captive Muse, just follow the links below,

Follow her musings and art at Indigo's Blog
Connect with her on Twitter at @indigoinkandart
Buy Her Captive Muse here: Noble Romance
A short story by Indigo also appears in Uniform Behaviour by Lucy Felthouse

Now - let's see your answers to Indigo's question, and have a great weekend!

Indigo and Ashen