Filthy is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.
How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.
How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.
To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.Show less
Erotic novels are absolutely nothing new. From ancient Greek lesbian Poet Sappho, who wrote, "Eros, again now, the loosener of limbs troubles me, Bittersweet, sly, uncontrollable creature..." and referred to her schoolgirl lover as "Like the sweet-apple reddening high on the branch, High on the highest, the apple-pickers forgot, Or not forgotten, but one they couldn’t reach."
Sappho of Lesbos
Later, there was the Marquis de Sade, whose bondage-laden masterpiece Justine landed him in an insane asylum and helped coined the term S and M, along with Venus in Furs author Masoch. De Sade's novel depicted the titular heroine in scandalous distress. His story was depicted with Academy Award winning actor Geoffrey Rush as De Sade.
Another famous erotic novelist was Pauline Reage (real name Anne Desclos), who wrote the famous BDSM novel The Story of O. For those not familiar with the title, it's a story of a young woman submitting sexually to an older, stern master. O is regularly bound, blindfolded, beaten, and penetrated with objects before being deserted by her lover.
Of course, the novel was also made into a movie in 1975.
The Story of O Film
And of course today we have Fifty Shades of Grey, E.L. James's much ballyhooed novel about Dominance and Submission.
And there was a movie...
So erotic novels aren't new, but they do seem to have found a new popularity and pop culture acceptability.
Enter Kristine Lichtlider, whose erotic novels blur the lines between what is tasteful and what is unabashedly sexual. Super spies, demons, and aliens all abound in her many strange and explicit stories.
From I, Demon Slave, her first—and most socially acceptable—work to her more recent Kidnapped series, Lichtlider crosses a lot of lines and doesn't even blink. The fact that she does this with beautifully written prose doesn't make it any less shocking.
The following excerpt from her novel Kidnapped Cheer Squad in Slavery Hell should give you an idea of her take on the genre.
"Welcome to your new home, putas,” Pedro said as he dragged on the lead connected to Becky's yoke. “What do you think of the place? Oh, that's right, none of you can see.”
“Should we take off the hoods and show 'em, boss?” Cowboy asked.
“Might as well,” Pedro said.
Becky knew that they were inside of some structure mainly because the cold rain was no longer freezing her naked skin, and smooth stones had replaced the rough terrain under her bare feet. When her hood came off, she was shocked to see that they were inside of an old church.
Her eyes went wide and she squealed behind her bit gag as she took in the various sights. Instead of pews or tabernacles, there were medieval torture devices crammed into every spare space. Some of them were horrifically familiar, others strangely frightening because of their alien design.
“For the next week,” Pedro said as he unhooded the girls one by one “this will be your home. We're going to break you in this old church, break you down to nothing and then build you back up into obedient, horny slave girls.”
Cowboy pulled off Ada's hood, and then pinched the Muslim girl's nipple in a vice like grip. She shifted from foot to foot, tears pouring down her face as she pleaded for him to stop.
“What's that, slave?” Cowboy said, craning his ear as if he were trying to listen to her “tighter, you say? Bet this is the first time your heathen ass has ever been in a church.”
“Be careful with that one,” Pedro said “I think Sven likes her.”
“So fucking what?” Cowboy said with a sneer.
“You ain't ever seen him mad before,” Pedro said, taking the hood off of Junko. “How ya doin, precious?”
She turned her head away as he brushed her cheek. She pulled at the yoke binding her wrists, in spite of the fact that her skin was rubbed raw.
“Oh, that's right,” Pedro said “this one don't like the touch of a man.”
“Then we'll have to make sure we break her of that,” came a new voice.
The captive girls and the men who were tormenting them all turned to regard the new speaker. He was a slender young man, with a curly mop of hair atop his head and a smarmy I-have-it-all-figured-out smile.
“Mmk Fckerberg!” Jean said around her gag.
Becky's eyes widened further. It really was Mike Phuckerberg, CEO of MyFace. What he was doing here she couldn't imagine, but she didn't hold out much hope he was there to rescue them.
“They figured you out, boss,” said Cowboy.
“They shouldn't call me by my name,” Mike said, brow furrowing.
“What do you want them to call you, jefe?” Pedro asked. “I can have them singing it by the end of tomorrow.”
“Hmm,” Mike said as he walked down the line of naked girls. Cleo tried to turn her breasts away from him as he fondled them freely, but Cowboy grabbed her hair from behind and forced her to be still. “You know, I think they should call me God. It's close enough for them.”