Lusty Literacy

This is kind of just spit-balling, me putting into words some thoughts of late, some patterns I've noticed in the stories I'm currently pushing out. A problematic feature, and the one I aim to axe going forwards, is that which exists in both Sephalla and the New Girl. The problem in question is the existence of chapters that are quite short, and only exist to further the plot. Now you, the reader, may not be of the same taste as I am, but never shall a day dawn where I completely avoid plot as a quality of my stories. Plot, in the realm of smut, is vital . It turns otherwise uninteresting things - sex, lovely as it is, is fundamentally a mundane thing! - into something fascinating. There is a reason that I write the stories I write, and the themes I pursue. In both Sephalla and the New Girl, I would've done better to combine several chapters together. One and two, and three and four, for both of them. They each have these chapters - odd-numbered ones - that set the groundwo

 Alas, the easy stuff is over. I now have to write more! I'm quite productive so that'll be no issue, but all the same, there won't be these "4 a day" releases anymore. I aim to put out at least three updates per week, beginning next week, on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule. This will be the bare minimum; it's not impossible that I'll put out more than three stories, but these will be in addition to the core three. I will also do my best to mix up the specific kinks of those that I update, so as to be more likely to cater to multiple interests. I will also, beginning next week, be making use of my Patreon more properly. Updates will be released there first on the lowest tier for early-access - 1 week - before arriving here and other places. Literotica updates will likely be slowest - they're still catching up with the here and Hentai Foundry - but I cannot help this. (Reading here, in terms of formatting/appearance, seems best to me anyway!) I will

  Chapter 4: Detention   The three weeks of detention begin on the Tuesday. Detention consists, in this case, of after-school detention for an hour in one of the English rooms, part of the Main Block. In this case, room M18. Sephalla is there when I arrive and we’re overseen by Mr Mayhew, who takes register and then has nothing to do. There’s no work, nothing due, just a pointless punishment. A waste of all our time. And Mr Mayhew disappears after the first ten minutes, leaving me with my (former?) bully. Sephalla is, aesthetically-speaking, no different today. Her makeup is the same, her outfit the same, that kind of pseudo-slutty gothic chic, and she’s every bit as outwardly intimidating. But she plays on her phone, a few seats to my right, and stays quiet. The only sound is the artificial and actual blurring of her delicate yet sizeable fingers working away on the touchscreen of an upsized, monster-suitable smart phone. It feels awkward, being alone with her. There’s palpa

  Chapter 2: Bathed by Her   She washes me in her chambers, in the great bath. As though I’m a child she scrubs and detangles, preventing me from acting of my own accord. I must’ve been in the cells for weeks and now I’m in the royal chambers, being cleaned by the Witch Queen herself. It would be a victory, were this not clearly some game on her behalf. The bountifully sexy Empress of Eternity washes me in the nude, standing in the deeper part of the tub. Her enormous motherly breasts sway and sag forwards, tear-shaped and beautifully rounded. Their nipples are large and half the length of my thumb, and about as wide around. Each is surrounded by a big areola, a wide faintly bumpy circle, a delicate shade of pink that distinguishes itself from the milky pale of her skin, softly veined with blue around her bosom. Without her crown, her serpentine black hair falls into many long braids, all of which run lower than her hips. At the back it expands into a long section of straight

  Chapter 2: Fit for Purpose   I wake glazed by a thick patina of dried semen. I stink of it, stink of old dick and old jizz. In the mirror I look younger, more feminine. Gone is my beard, my moustache. My chest, unmistakeably, is womanly. Each breast is full, springy if saggy, expected for their size, being something like a G-cup, with large brownish-red areolae. No hair, no manliness in sight, but my cock is untouched and the rest of my body seems familiar, if newly hairless. I sigh, and wash in the basin. There’s an urge to cry, an urge to shout, but what can I do? I don’t understand any of this. What is this world? Where is it? Where is this tower? Light trickles through my high window, a hope if nothing else. My clothes won’t fit these stupid cow-tits so I take the robe from behind the door and go below the kitchen, into the entrance chamber. Rounded with a central fireplace unlit, it has but a round rug of green fabric and a huge double-doored entranceway. I go beyond,

  Chapter 4: Not Gay, Butt   Everyone’s caught up in rumours and hearsay the following morning. My tutor fails to keep us quiet, so the conversations spill over in all directions. Someone broke into the PE block but Mrs Maxwell managed to subdue them, resulting in a broken nose on her part, says one. Another goes that Mrs Maxwell was fucking Coach Bulger, and the fat old man had a heart attack midway, causing him to accidentally headbutt her face, also explaining the nose. It’s generally accepted that someone was hurt enough that they needed an ambulance. It’s also accepted that, somehow, Mrs Maxwell was involved. The actual truth, whatever it is, is something the faculty alone have access to. The day proceeds otherwise as normal, with a midday announcement of a special assembly replacing tutor time tomorrow. Freya’s nowhere to be seen, so naturally some of the rumours try to fit her into the narrative. Maybe she was attacked by the Coach, for instance. Maybe she got into a f