Wednesday, 23 January 2013

Welcoming Kyoko Church

To all my Wednesday flashers and fans I have a huge apology to make. I double booked!!! Yes, I have a calendar and I try to use it but it let me down this time. I will be posting my flash but this evening/tomorrow so you won't have to miss Pasha's metamorphosis.

In the meantime I'm welcoming the fab Kyoko Church to talk about her book and erm.... other things. 

Hi Nephylim! Thank you for having me here to your blog today. It’s a pleasure!

Today I wanted to discuss a fun and generally safe past-time (unless you’re Michael Hutchins), masturbation! Particularly, the fact that the general attitude to masturbation in the Victorian era was hardly that it was fun and safe. To the contrary, much worse than hairy palms and blindness, the people in this age worried that masturbation sapped strength away from otherwise virile men and would weaken the moral fibre of society. But no pressure not to choke your chicken! My research into the topic lead me to increasingly scary looking devices in which to lock the male sex organ, like the ones on this list here:

I’ve written earlier in this tour of turning something that was certainly unpleasant at the time and tweaking it slightly so as to be able to write about it in a way that makes it sexy. This is another example of a time when my thoughts went from – how awful for the poor men who had to endure this! – to devious thoughts of how someone might “suffer” in a much sexier way.

This led to a subplot in Book Two of the Draper Estates Trilogy, Sapphic Secrets, for Ewan’s manservant, James. James is a man who has previously enjoyed complete order and control over his life and in ordering his master’s life, until he is suddenly and unexpectedly swept up in unwelcome feelings of passion. In order to try and control this onanistic behaviour he fears will be his downfall, he seeks the aid of one of these anti masturbatory devices:

                A bit shakily he undid his belt and trousers. As he eased them down he stared at the second belt that held the device in place. He desperately wanted to undo that belt as well. It was evening now. All of his duties had been tended to.
                He replaced the wash cloth in the basin and slowly began to unfasten what bound him. This is necessary, he reminded himself. It is what must be endured for the thoughts that he could not keep at bay.
                James could pinpoint the moment his downfall began.
He thought back to how it used to be, before that moment, and longed for the simplicity of what it was to love his job and do it well. He was Ewan Draper’s butler. His valet. A gentleman’s gentleman. He lived to serve his lord, to anticipate his every need and fulfill it. Everything from running his household and arranging his travel to ensuring his clothing was clean and pressed, dressing and even shaving him, all of it fell to James. He delivered the highest quality of service. He took such pride in that.
And then one day, as he was at his lord’s feet, buffing his shoes and doing up his laces, listening to his lord boasting of his dubious conquests at Ms Rodham’s house of ill repute, something twigged in his head.
Those women. His master’s needs. His greatest need.
Suddenly a great yawning chasm opened up. All of the base desires he’d heard other men succumb to and of which he’d always felt above took hold of his body as he imagined kneeling at his lord’s feet, taking his lord’s staff in his mouth, fulfilling this most basic need as well, his service to his lord complete. He’d excused himself quickly, gone into his room, grasped his swollen prick, as hard and needy as he’d ever felt it and, with shaking hands, worked his cock to its completion, as he gasped and cried out, his spunk falling in creamy ropes to the floor.
No! he’d cried. Only weak men did this. Ones whose minds were addled and dim. Everyone knew this kind of self-abuse could only lead to ruin. Not him. And thinking of his master! His cheeks burned bright, his whole body felt awash in the heat of shame and regret.
Never again, he’d promised himself. He’d bought the chastity device and vowed to wear it whenever in service to his lord so that those thoughts and his body’s reactions might not prevail.
But now, as he undid the belt buckle and gingerly removed the metal casing from his loins, his shaft immediately began to grow. Oh god, how good it felt to be free, free from the confines that had been imposed throughout the day. It pulsed and rose, like some kind of animal he couldn’t control, as opposed to his own body.
He took up the cold wash cloth again, wrung it out and began to press it against his swollen flesh, clearing his mind and willing himself to calmness. Then suddenly he remembered Lillianne. Ewan would be attending her shortly.
No! he chastised himself. No, he wouldn’t watch. Not again.
But the thought of catching his master in flagrante delicto, to hear him, to see his body flex and move was too intoxicatingly enticing.
He looked down at the red indentations on his flesh where the metal chastity device had pressed into it and winced. The thought of locking that into place again now that he’d just finally taken it off was certainly not appealing.
If I wear my cage, he bargained with himself. While the metal chastity device prevented him from becoming erect, the other device he’d made himself purchase, the cage, allowed the erection but prevented any stimulation.
Carefully he fastened the other contraption into place, tucking it into his trousers. Secured, he slipped out of his room and headed stealthily up the stairs to the master bedroom.


Labelled a nymphomaniac because of her passion, Lillianne Draper is forced to spend her days restrained. She has managed to banish the nefarious Dr Samms only to begin to question the motives of her scullery maid, Celeste. Charged with the task of monitoring her mistress’s illness, Celeste seems to enjoy her new responsibility a little too much.  Lillianne must try and control her body’s responses or her husband will order the return of the doctor who tormented her. But being left every day at the mercy of Celeste is arousing desires in Lilly she didn't know she had.



Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not.

For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame. Until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. Her short stories have been published in anthologies by Black Lace, Rubicund Publishing and Xcite Books. Book One, Nymphomania, and Book Two, Sapphic Secrets, in her Draper Estate Trilogy were published by Xcite in 2012. For Her Pleasure will be published by HarperCollins Mischief in March 2013.

A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home. She is currently learning to drive on the left and say G’day convincingly.

This is a

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