Behold the erotica writer, master of his pleasure palace of fiction.
His harem is stocked with beauties of a thousand genres. Delicate white flowers of college age beauty, dark voluptuous women with abundant curves, chained heroines, arrogant queens and submissive older women are his to call on. They may be nude and showing their assets for the world to see. They may be clothed in fetish gear and uniforms of fantasy. Their appearances are limited only by his imagination.
Wicked, wicked, wicked things happen here. Cocks are rammed down throats, willing and unwilling. Breasts are caressed, bitten, loved and punished in equal measure. Asses made to be spanked are spanked and sometimes penetrated. Cunts, furry and rarely shaved, slide onto cocks, dildos, tongues and fingers. Deviance is the norm and the expected.
Love is created here. Lust abounds as well. Friends fuck here as often as enemies. People fuck alone. People fuck in pairs. People fuck in groups if the writer demands it. Sometimes, no one fucks and there is just cruel denial but this pleases the writer. There is no limits to his whim.
But the writer is also the slave here. Some stories are not told easily. For every spontaneous act of perversion, there are just as often long drawn out battles with inspiration before the orgy of sin. Craft takes work and there are days when even the most blissful cock sucking takes a long afternoon of trial and error. Rewrites are the writer’s best tool and his lament.
The writer suffers. While his characters suffer the threat of the lash, the writer suffers the threat of indifference. While characters are broken on the wheels of his plot, the writer is broken on the knowledge that the story he wrote was not quite as good as the one he imagined in his head.
Weep not for the writer. There are other palaces. He could just as easily visit the foreign lands of other writers by reading. He could lose himself in the epic quests of videogames. Twenty minutes of porn videos could sate him. He comes back to the palace of his making of his own free will. No one keeps him here.
Behold the erotic writer, master and slave to his pleasure palace of fiction.