Charlie Rokeby lay contentedly holding his beloved wife in his arms, her hair soft and golden now flowed sweet and womanly to her shoulders the boyish style now set aside as her belly and breasts swelled from his heir growing within. They knew their assassination was planned by Hermione, Dowager Lady Rokeby, whom had supposed she not Charlie would inherit o...
Excerpts From the Letters and Diary of Arthur Rimbaud, Victorian Gentleman My name is Schuyler Rimbaud. Yes, I know, it's an unusual name, and, no, I'm not related to the French poet – at least I don't think so. It's pronounced "RIM-bawd," and I am English. I believe the name is ultimately German, traceable back to the Anglo-Saxons. But mine is not t...
This is my third Tug story. In this one, our hero and his Atlantean wife solve the mystery of Jack the Ripper; thereby, saving the world from Nazi Armageddon. Their discoveries expose the real truth behind the Whitechapel murders, along with some of the more unsavory elements of Victorian England. Along the way, they meet the legendary Victorian swashbuckler...
A submissive male takes a holiday but is invited to alternative accommodation by the female proprietor of the apartment he rents. She has discovered his sexual preferences by chance, and finds him a perfect candidate for her 'hobby' which she shares with her dominant female associates. He had arrived at the resort apartment, the stress of his work routine f...
The ongoing adventures of George Forbes, the twenty-something year-old son of a wealthy Victorian family, and his manservant Andrew, a servant of similar age if not of the same social station. Together we explore their red-blooded forays into the world of intimate male bonding and their appreciation of the naked form, both female and male. Reader beware,...
In a small room in a large mansion a girl waits in trepidation, her predicament witnessed only by the pictures on the walls. This is the butler's pantry, lair of the most senior of the servant class in the employ of Althorpe House, an English stately home. Stretching to grasp the table's furthest edge she nervously focuses on a black and white photograph....
"Let's see, Elise...you've been here five weeks. Am I right?" Elise's eyes darted around the room, taking in the intent but impassive faces of her employer's personal staff. Mr. Hal, the steward, was to Lord Conroy's right. Beside him stood a handsome but older woman, Mistress Beatrice the head maid. On the lord's left were Allan the chauffer, Daniel the bu...
A Bride's lingerie A guide on bridal lingerie and how to consummate your marriage while wearing it As told to the author after a six hour marathon love making session at the Hotel Monte Carlo, 2001 Before I start this primer on wedding night sex and lingerie, I would like to clear up some misunderstandings that our lingerie ignorant culture has been spre...
Chapter One: Iphigeneia at the Church of St Mary Magdalene It might have been all of that poetry about demonic women and sado-masochistic desires, and the burning of incense and the profanation of altars, or maybe it was the atmosphere of fin de siècle ennui, but I decided to go to church that Sunday morning. I had been working all Saturday afternoon in the...
"Doctor?" Clara said by rote. "Why are we at 13 Paternoster Row in 1893?" The Doctor looked up from a read-out on the TARDIS's console that did not do much more, in point of fact, but play Flappy Bird. "Now, that's hardly fair. When we weren't here ten minutes ago, you didn't ask why we weren't at 13 Paternoster Row in 1893." "It's just that we seem to c...