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  1. #1

    April Writers Contest

    For your entry please choose from the list of categories listed below and clearly label each entry with the category for that entry. Multiple entries are encouraged. Normal rules apply.
    Acceptable categories include but are not limited to:
    • Same sex relationships.
    • Sci-Fi erotica
    • Science Fiction
    • Poetry
    • Prose
    • 1.1 Action
    • 1.2 Adventure
    • 1.3 Comedy
    • 1.4 Crime
    • 1.5 Erotica
    • 1.7 Fantasy
    • 1.8 Historical
    • 1.9 Horror
    • 1.10 Mystery
    • 1.13 Political
    • 1.14 Romance
    • 1.15 Saga
    • 1.16 Satire
    • 1.20 Thriller
    • 1.21 Urban a.k.a. Street Lit

    The subject of your work is up to you. Allow your creative juices to take you where they may. I have no doubt that we have some very talented and creative members here.
    Best of luck,
    A picture is a poem without words. - Horace

  2. #2
    Dungeon Mistress SickenlySweete's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2010
    the Underworld
    winner will be awarded a medal in there profile.
    and be featured in our sinners ezine.

    "When I'm good, I'm very very good, but when
    I'm bad, I'm better. "
    I (heart) FetLife: BDSM & Fetish Community for Kinksters, by kinksters

    Programs i use and what i do:
    Daz Studio,Hexagon,Zbrush,Psp7
    beginner modeler of clothes and props,uvmapping,textures,face morphs.
    looking to learn rigging in ds at the moment.

  3. #3
    Keeper of Brann-Dunver exiled_uk's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2007
    Under a rock in the back garden
    So basically the writers challenge is to write something?? Can't really see many entries here then you need to give them a single topic or something then let them write about that in their own style, whether it's sci-fi, fantasy or erotica

  4. #4
    It has been my experience that giving writers too constrictive guidelines makes it more of an assignment and results in less participation. We tried giving precise topics to choose from last month and had no response at all. I have found it best to not dictate a style of writing to a group as a whole. So to answer the second half of your question, please write in your own style choosing a topic of your choice from the categories listed above.

  5. #5
    MYLAR, Scourge of Freelandia
    by MiaSharona

    Little Joe Druthers tossed his backpack on the couch, running passed the refrigerator just long enough to lift a carton of chocolate milk, a container of Spaghetti Q’s and a granola bar before descending to the basement to the large screen TV where his game awaited him. All during school he dreamed of this moment. He had lmagined slaying the 4 headed Rhinoceros on level 13 and the 88 legged piano playing spider on level 17. Each level had been its own trials and tribulations of attacking monsters and mutated beasts by the score; trolls and warriors without end; each warrior with his own arsenal of weapons to thwart his progress to save his soul mate the lovely Princess Helen Plessia. She had been abducted from the peace and justice loving kingdom of Freelandia, and he, the muscle bound Farm boy Swagger Armstrong had volunteered to the King to save her.

    Joe, as Swagger Armstrong had learned in the lower levels to find weapons, use them; find

    food stashes and magic charms. Each helped him with the increasing levels of difficulty as he ventured deeper into the Thorn Forest Lair of the evil MYLAR, Scourge of Freelandia. Mylar of course never made a personal appearance till one reached the last level and then the highest tower there on level 28. To get there one had to have defeated the other 27 lieutenants at the end of each level, 1 through 27 who awaited the player. This, after the player had defeated countless lower minions.

    But after 3 months of playing the game, of having resisted going to the cheat sights to get code to pass particularly difficult obstacles, after hundreds of hours of

    Play at the cost of his

    Study and at least two grade levels in spelling and math, Joe (Swagger Armstrong) had at last reached the Castle Keep of the dreaded Scourge Mylar. Saving Helen Plessia was in his grasp with only a few more upper level minions, and of course the final duel to the death with the dreaded Mylar to end and win the game.

    Joe plopped down in his favorite food stained Herculon chair and turned on the game player, slipping in the disk and finding his "saved" game that ended mid level 28. Only a few more rooms, a staircase or two, a bridge over a lava pit and the final tower and he could claim to have finally defeated the game at last.

    None of Joe’s friends hand gotten past level 20 where the evil Lord Knickerbocker killed all comers with his great machine gun laser saber. It was wielded like a saber, had a blade like a laser, but fired bolts like a machine gun. One hit from Lord Knickerbocker and you were a blacked pile of goo with the sad words...Game over to remind you of your defeat. Joe had died countless times at that level till he figured out that the worthless pocket mirror dropped by Princess Helen he found back on level three could be used to reflect the bolts back at his attacker. Most other kids foolishly discarded it for better weapons during the levels between there and here.

    AS soon as Joe turned on the game he was under attack there in mid level 28. A flood of flesh eating zombie elves seemed to come out of the very stones of the walls and floor. From the ceiling rained droplets of acid that burned through everything they hit, and from the way ahead, bolts of winged darts that when they missed buzzed about Swagger like angry hornets.

    After several attempts and Start-over deaths, Swagger made it to the bridge over the lake of lava. Naturally no one had repaired the bridge in 1000 years and it’s boards were all hopelessly rotten.

    Joe had seen traps of this kind before and was not so easily fooled this time. Taking his found item, the grappling bronze hand with a rope attachment, he tossed it to the other side where the fingers of it opened and caught hold of a crack between the stones of the sheer precipice wall. Thus secure he swung across and scaled the wall to the narrow doorway. Joe was most pleased with himself. He had passed that level without so much as losing any life from his lifeline over his head. There was only the stairwell up the tower and once passed that the final room where Mylar guarded the princess and the final combat must take place.

    The dark stairwell spiraled up and up lit by demonic looking arms holding up red flame burning torches. Yet there were no opposition minions trying to block him or stop him from going forward. It was quiet. Too quiet. He had non-stop fought through 27 and 3/4ths levels and never had so much time as to tie his boot straps from all the attacking menageries of un-dead villains and mutant animals. Now, here at the very door of Mylar’s inner sanctum the enemy was nowhere to be seen. It was ... unnerving.

    Cautiously Joe (Swagger Armstrong) inched forward. His trusty morning star mace, his favorite close quarter weapon in his virtual sweating hands at the ready. There was the door ahead of him. Around it were carved demons in a swirl of writhing agony, giving warning of the tulmut within. He pushed at the door and it gently swung open.

    Joe, sitting in his chair took a gulp of chocolate milk to give him nerve and he stepped inside. Sitting in the middle of the room were two figures seated at a large iron wrought table. One was the Princess Helen, the other, a large Ogre like Behemoth that could only be the dreaded MYLAR.

    Mylar did not rise from the table, but instead took a flagon of some wicked brew, taking a swig of it and plopping it back down on the table with a clang like a hammer on an anvil. "So Swagger Armstrong, we meet at last" said Mylar in an evil reverberating voice.

    "Release the Princess you fiend!" Swagger responded with proper heroic braggadocio. "You and I have a date with a duel of destiny!"

    The Princess looked up from the cup of tea she was sipping. "Oh hello Swagger! It’s good to see you. Pull up a chair and have a cup of Camomile tea."

    "I have come to free you Princess, from the clutches of the Scourge of Freelandia!" replied Swagger stepping boldly forward, his shield and mace at the ready.

    "No need." smiled the Princess. "I was set free some time ago."

    Swagger (Joe) was indeed confused now. "But, weren’t you abducted and carried off by Mylar, who threatened to throw you to the fester-slobbering jackals if you did not marry him?"

    "Yes, sorry about that." said Mylar. "You were taking so long to get here the Princess and I had a lot of time to talk."

    "True." added the Princess "and as good is always more powerful than evil, I convinced him to change his ways, to convert. He set me free and we have been waiting for your arrival to take me home."

    "You mean to say that Mylar is now a good guy and that is it? You and I just walk out of here? No questions asked, no final epic battle?" Joe was truly flummoxed at the turn of events.

    "Thats about the size of it." said Mylar. "I have sent orders out to let you two pass without further attempts to delay you. No attacks. Just a clear pathway back to Freelandia."

    "This is Bull Hockey!" Joe shouted out loud feeling totally cheated. "I demand a final epic battle!" Swagger added within the game. "This is some sort of trick or bewitchment!"

    "What if I refuse to fight?" said Mylar. "By the laws of goodness you cannot strike me with greater force than I take on to make combat. What if I just sit here drinking camomile tea?"

    Swagger looked at the Princess who nodded and poured Armstrong a cup of tea. "Swagger, dear, do you take sugar or cream?"

    "I challenge you to a duel!" Swagger shouted taking out a leather gauntlet glove tossing it at Mylar’s hob-nail-booted feet. "You may have fooled the Princess but I know you too well Mylar. Pick up the glove!"

    "Well I never!" the Princess looked very cross. "Here I go to the trouble of hours of philosophical discussion with Mylar to convert him and save your life, and you want to throw it all away and fight regardless! This is hardly befitting the roll of a hero!"

    "Princess, you are being deceived I tell you. He will let us go and attack us from behind! He is full of deceptions. It is his nature!" Swagger warned.

    "I see that I have little choice Princess. To uphold honor I must fight your boy friend, I’m afraid." Mylar gave his huge warty head a sad shake in regret and disbelief.

    "Shame on you Armstrong. Shame!" said the Princess.

    "Prepare to defend yourself demon!" Swagger raised his mace and shield taking a fighting stance.

    "By the rules of dueling I get the choice of weapons do I not?" said Mylar slowly standing to his 13 foot full height. He walked over to a huge iron studded chest and opened it.

    Swagger stood at the ready for a flying Greek fire sulfur chunk, or a blast from some magical bazooka. Instead Mylar took from the trunk several balls of colored yarn and two sets of knitting needles. "I choose a contest of knitting. We each knit a sweater for the Princess and she decides the winner. Would you like the blue and the green yarn or the red and the yellow?’

    "KNITTING?" shouted Swagger. "Knitting?" shouted Joe.

    "Knitting." stated the Princess. "You are the master of every kind of death dealing weapon of destruction, from sword to mace to arrow to spear to dagger to durk to magic amulet. Poor Mylar here has no real fighting skill. He bought this Kingdom with money he inherited from his Aunt Zelda. Before that he was an accountant."

    Mylar set the two balls of yarn and the silver knitting needles on the table and sat back down. "I am ready to begin our contest." Mylar said with a yellow fanged grin. "Best pick up your weapons. I have also been taking knitting lessons from the Princess."

    "Of all the stupid endings of a video /fantasy play I ever heard of." mumbled Swagger snatching up his yarn and sitting down. "What happens to me if I lose? A trip to the dungeon to endure countless tortures, I suppose?"

    "No." said Mylar matter-of-factly. "If you lose, you and the Princesses are free to go. I am only doing this because you insist on a duel."

    Princes Helen raised her handkerchief and dropped it. "One...two...three...GO!" she shouted.

    Mylar began to knit furiously while Swagger fumbled with his yarn totally unaware of how to even make a simple stitch. Within an hour Swagger was covered in a tangle red and yellow string fighting as though swallowed by a hydra, while Mylar put the finishing details on a lovely sweater just the size of the Princess.

    "Mylar wins." the Princess stands giving the monster a kiss on the cheek. "Shall we go now Swagger?"

    Swagger Armstrong tossed the needles on the floor along with his mace and shield. "What a stupid way to save the Princess. I will be the laughingstock of fantasy land when we get back to Freelandia."

    Mylar waved goodbye and picked up the tossed aside things cluttering the floor, carefully untangling the string and re-rolled it into a ball again.

    "Well. None of the kids are gonna believe this!" said Joe pausing the game. "What a totally boneheaded ending!"

    Despite the game being paused Mylar began to move on the screen. "Bonehead? Who are you calling bonehead?"

    "Wha?" said Joe. "Are you talking to me?"

    "Yes I’m talking to you Joe." snapped Mylar. "Instead of study you play this game. Instead of exercise you play this game. Instead of reading a good book, having a game of ball with the neighbor boy, getting out in the sunshine and running, any more sensible activity, you PLAY THIS GAME! Well its over now and you have won. Aren’t you pleased?"

    "NO Not at all!" said Joe.

    "Remember that then." said Mylar. "Don’t waste your childhood in silly pursuits of electronic laziness. Get out and become something other than a couch potato with a game controller."

    "Yeah, well wait till I tell the other kids. No one will ever play your game again!" Joe shouted.

    Mylar smiled. "Ever consider taking up knitting?"

    A picture is a poem without words. - Horace

  6. #6



    I had a dream that it was you coming down my lane.
    dressed in silk flowing in the winds before the rain.
    the golden sun fleeting makes your sexy silhouette.
    my breasts begin to swell against my tight corset.

    our eyes are lock as I hold your delicate hand.
    the red candles won't unveil all that I have planned.
    I pull you to me tightly and our lips are hot as flame.
    we tremble in excitement calling out the other's name.

    black satin sheets await us upon the heart shaped bed.
    I know your heart is racing wondering what lies ahead.
    the scent of lilacs fills the air as we break our kiss.
    we know this feeling that builds us to a state of bliss.

    it all begins here for us our long and winding road.
    hurry now we can't wait our pace will not be slowed.
    never been a love as pure as we will share tonight.
    forever now it will be known that we are just so right.

    arms length we shed our clothes like petals from a rose.
    tug on this zipper here let me help you with your bows.
    I loosen this and open that hungry for your fine breast.
    my goddess I can't thank you enough, how I am blessed.

    your hand upon my hip brings me to such a boil.
    you work your way front and back and I never recoil.
    buttons open my skirt is now floating to the ground.
    revealing my nakedness and my prominent mound.

    my heart pounds like a hammer the rhythm holds me still.
    your touch upon my bare skin has given me such a chill.
    then all at once I feel the heat coming from my blush.
    we have such power together and now I start to gush.

    we are whispering our emotions of love forever more.
    lay with me my lover let me show you how to soar.
    my legs begin to tremble you have made me so hot.
    it is time my love for us to share the touch of OUR SPOT.

    A picture is a poem without words. - Horace

  7. #7
    Hope of Love
    As I gaze into your eyes,
    Looking straight into the essence of your soul,
    Seeing visions of the universe,
    Slowly revealing their secrets to me.
    Viewing your passion and fire,
    As you soar the heavens.
    Your spirit riding the tail of the comet,
    And the passion for dancing on the moon,
    Leaping from star to star, never resting,
    With the burning desire of the sun,
    Your soul fly's as the eagle,
    Amongst majestic mountains of mist and snow,
    Raising over those carefree stars.
    You draw me back into a world,
    That I have long traveled alone.
    My spirit drifting through the celestial,
    Dancing amongst the stars.
    My passion never earth bound, searching,
    For a passion that I can not consume,
    Like the fires of the sun, my passion
    Destroys those who are weak.
    As I gaze upon your eyes,
    I can see the edge of the world.
    The moon has kiss my heart,
    For the fire to be rekindled.
    As I look deep into your heart ,
    I can feel the love and compassion,
    That you are longing to share with me.
    The two of us together, flying back home
    To the celestial as one spirit for eternity

    By MysticBlueRaven

  8. #8
    Bringing of Joy

    Kneel and hang your head down,
    There is no reason for a frown.
    A tremble in your quivering lip,
    Hear the cracking of my whip.

    I've always known what you want,
    Since you came here from Vermont.
    To the city you drove half numb,
    Seeking out your ultimate cum.

    I saw you sitting in that club,
    Between your legs as you'd rub.
    How you wanted to spend the night,
    To be with me and to get it right.

    You swore you were mine that day,
    For anything I wished in anyway.
    You told me how you loved the pain,
    With joy so great it drove you insane.

    We went back to my room it isn't far.
    I show you first the spreading bar.
    Then the array of strapon cocks,
    My favorite next the metal stocks.

    I'm watching as your eyes grow big,
    Try something new my guinea pig.
    A smile comes quickly to your eyes,
    Until my whip strikes on your thighs.

    You cannot contain yourself at last,
    The words betray you very fast.
    You've whimpered, "Yes I love it so",
    That will only bring a harder blow.

    A tear has trickled down your cheek,
    On your leg there's a bright red streak.
    Once again you're feeling the slash,
    From the touch my swinging lash.

    At the top of your crease large and red,
    Just like someone has given her head.
    Standing quite proudly from your slit,
    Your trembling and stirred up clit.

    It could be time for your destiny,
    To be complete and left to me.
    I reach now for a great big toy,
    Then fill you with all kinds of joy.
    A picture is a poem without words. - Horace

  9. #9
    Let me preface this poem with an explanation of the circumstances. A former lover ended up married with a family. When she and I met again on line she told me her marriage was failing and she needed me back in her life. So after a three year on line relationship I felt it was necessary to attempt to push her back to her husband and children. As it became more apparent I was succeeding I wrote the poem below with it's alternative attached.

    You Know Who You Are, Just Never Forget

    There comes a time when we must know,
    We have to part, yes, we have to let go.
    It's never easy, it can be really rough,
    But, we have to do it, we have to be tough.

    It is time to move on and never look back,
    There are better things we must track.
    Never be sorry about taking your turn,
    Smile look up from the bridges we burn.

    I'll miss you always you've made your mark,
    We passed our nights as we played in the dark.
    If things could be different they certainly would,
    Know that I loved you and I did all that I could.

    If I Were a Bitch I'd Say it Like This

    I don't give a damn I don't give a fuck,
    can't you see you've run out of luck?
    It's time to move on and find a friend,
    A real simple one that you can bend.

    So leave me alone you're a pain in the ass,
    I'd rather just sit on my lawn counting grass.
    You left me no choice than to be so abrupt,
    Our friendship, dear you've made so corrupt.

    I so tried to not hurt you, oh yes, really I did,
    The more effort I used the more that we slid.
    I wasn't your fault that it has come to an end,
    Know in your heart I never meant to offend.
    A picture is a poem without words. - Horace

  10. #10
    -THANK YOU (Goddess, may I have another?)-

    I begged the moon to send her love
    there you were!
    all loving and tender
    all tall deep and ginger
    smiling and stealing me away--
    I had accepted the pain and
    without you
    I might have stayed

    when first we spoke
    I saw you beaming,
    spinning love from the spark
    those icy eyes gleaming
    did you see my aching heart?
    or... simply catch it
    falling from my sleeve?

    You, MY beautiful GODDESS
    when I struggle, You don't just
    Goddess, it is an honor
    to love You and receive.


    first entry, I pritheeee be gentle!!


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