Welcome …

I'm Sheri Savill and I write BDSM erotica, humor -- sometimes both at the same time. Mostly I try to be honest.

Butt Plug Weekend

I don’t know. There I was, over on Facebook (bleh) posting about a search string someone used to arrive here at my site:

facehole post

Then this happened.

Corey Harper: Is this a cry for help?
Sheri Savill: Just someone looking for FACTS and RELIABLE INFORMATION and you know my website is full of that sort of thing.
Corey Harper: Of course. What was I thinking.
Sheri Savill: I will make a FAQ, I think.

Q: Will a spider gag make you drool?
A: Fuck yes.
Q: Will a cane leave a mark?
A: Fuck yes.
Q: Should I send my life savings to Sheri Savill?
A: Fuck yes.
Q: Should Sheri Savill be running the planet?
A: Fuck yes.

That kind of thing. Helpful-like.

Then things turn a weird turn.

Megan Michaels: Oh god!! I can’t stop laughing!
Casey McKay: Someone found my blog once by searching for “butt plug weekend” — not as entertaining as Spider Gag, but I cannot stop thinking about what a butt plug weekend would be like!
Corey Harper: Casey, it’s longer than a butt plug Friday, but shorter than a butt plug vacation.
Casey McKay: Ah! That clears that up then!
Sheri Savill: “Butt Plug Weekend” has to be made into a movie poster, stat. You know I will do it and post it on my blog. Be ready.
Kathy Batts: People search for the weirdest stuff to get by us.
Casey McKay: OMG Sheri, do it! Doooooo it! Peer pressure!

And I always give in to peer pressure. Plus, if someone just asks me to make stupid shit for no reason and post it on my very serious blog here, well, I just do it, you know?

So, then this happened:

butt plug weekend

plugs-after

Banana Guy 10

Banana Guy 10 is serious about me. Look at the smoldering eyes. The undies, every so slightly askew.

He’s saying, “Hey Sheri girl. Don’t even think about putting up Banana Guy 11 next week, okay? Because I’m here now. And I want you. Bad. My white undies are slightly off kilter, see? That’s from me just thinking about you. You make my banana jump, yes you do. It jumped so hard it actually dislodged my undies a little, see? Because that’s what you do to me, Savill, you wicked wench.”

This is Banana Guy 10.

This is Banana Guy 10.

BEGIN WESTMINSTER KENNEL CLUB VOICEOVER

Banana Guy ten has a medium-large banana that is versatile and ready for anything. The clean lines and balanced proportions of this banana make Banana Guy ten a perfect companion for any occasion. Not a banana for the frail or timid, this is a bold, sturdy specimen that easily outperforms lesser bananas. This is Banana Guy number ten.

END WESTMINSTER KENNEL CLUB VOICEOVER

e[lust] #57

Greetings, e[lust]-ians!

Another edition with great things. I’m down at the end there (under “Writing About Writing”). Hope you enjoy!

Elust #57 Cammies on the Floor Image
Photo courtesy of Cammies on the Floor

Welcome to Elust #57 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #58? Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

I’ve Got 99 Problems

Vasectomy Blues

I’ve always wanted to call myself queer.

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Aoyama Yuki and My Very First Times

I don’t know how to be happy

 

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Continue Reading

Dungeon Crawl for April 16 2014

I’m excerpting another bit from the next parody — the “sequel” to BFD. Actually I’ve decided to get a new title and cover — completely new — for it. It won’t be called “Bound for Disappointment 2″ or anything like that, after all. (Sure, the working title is “BFD2.”)

I want it to be a standalone book so that if someone didn’t buy/read the first one, they can still grab the new one (or any after that) and enjoy it anyway. It’ll be set “in the same world,” in other words, generally, but you won’t have to have read the first one to “get” the second one, etc. Make sense? I think so. Then again, what makes sense to me sometimes doesn’t make sense to others. And vice versa.

By way of setup for this scene … BDSM erotica author Tara Febreze and her rival, author Vageena Royale, aren’t exactly good buds. In BFD, you’ll recall, Vageena was always sabotaging Tara by doing things like hiding Tara’s books at the local porn shop. Moving them to the back of the racks and whatever. In this book, the bullshit continues. Boy does it. But this little scene is just … well, you’ll see.

Tara rolled over on the sofa, opening her eyes slowly. It was dark outside.

Shit, how long have I been asleep?

She wiped the drool from her chin and stretched, feeling groggy, trying to focus her eyes. Vageena Royale’s new book, Submissive Whores from Planet Vulva, was still on her lap, forced open by a fat yellow highlighter still wedged inside. She picked up the book and blinked, looking at where she’d left off: page nine.

Oh yes. Vageena’s book. That’s what made me so sleepy. My God, the writing. Awful.

Tara re-read a highlighted portion on the page:

“Tarantula’s fat ass was very well known to the many male Dominants on planet Vulva, for she was the planet’s oldest submissive whore. By far. She was wrinkly and crepe-y, craggy. Face like a piece of burnt toast. Tits hanging like a couple of rotten Vulvarian chutfruit.

Most of the planet’s Doms had fucked Tarantula repeatedly — albeit viewing it as a bit of a chore — back when she still looked halfway decent. But the years had not been kind to Tarantula. Oh no. And even her weekly trip to the famed Steaming Fountains of Oilay in Vulva City couldn’t un-do the relentless march of time that had ravaged Tarantula’s mediocre-at-best looks.

Tarantula had made it a habit to wear black fishnet thigh-highs at all times, even during the sweltering Vulvan summers when Vulvan submissive whores were supposed to be naked but for their collars. The fishnets covered her cellulite. Sort of. Really, they made her look like a big bone-in spiral-sliced ham, the kind they sold in Earth’s supermarkets for holidays, usually wrapped in cheap plastic netting. Sometimes there was a sauce packet.”

See how I worked in the ham thing? Because it’s Easter.

 Loading InLinkz ...

Just Passing Through

I. OH MISTER STARBUCKS-CUSTOMER WHO SAT NEAR ME YESTERDAY.

He comes over and closes the blind so it’s batcave-dark all around his table — which is fine, for him. But why must I be part of your cave Mister Bat Person? I like the sunlight, Prince of Darkness. All due respect, your pallid gothicness.

Then the dude starts smacking on … something. Dentures, I think. I deployed the mini-eyeroll. The one that says, “Sirrah! To be sure, you are most annoying, but I will not go to prison, condemned for your untimely death.” In a few minutes I had to ramp it up to Industrial-Strength Eyeroll (ISE) which, as you know, is deployed infrequently and judiciously as it involves partial retina-detachment.

But even the ISE went unnoticed, so I added a Heaving Sigh. Heaving Sigh didn’t do a damned thing, either. Added Frowny Face. Frowny Face plus Heaving Sigh plus ISE … all ineffective!

The Man-Bat did finally leave, and I had a grande vanilla latte to celebrate. Then, disaster.

A barista dropped a box of napkins all over the floor and they fluttered around. I tilted my head sideways and deadpanned. “Nine hundred sixty — no, sixty-one — nine hundred sixty-one toothpicks.” Which got me the coveted “Darren, I need you to be ready to call security” look from the barista.

I actually did write quite a bit more — yes — on BFD2. I have SO much material for that thing now. Avalanche of angst. New snarkfest-y material on the publishing “business.” Skullduggery! Intrigue! And watch for Vageena Royale’s website to be updated soon. You do know that Tara Febreze has a site, right? And a Twitter account. She is a tweetin’ fool. I will have Tara and Vageena “interact.”

II. Woefully Inadequate Title Situation (WITS).

Big on the weird acronyms today as you can see.

I’m so torn about the title of BFD2. As it is now, it’s called, “Bound for Disappointment: Make It Stop.” But that’s never really jumped out at me. Bummer, too, because the cover is done. Hm. I could make one myself. I’ve thought of trying it. Be funny if I did one and it was actually … good. Or, more likely, so BAD that people thought I paid a lot of money for a designer and the instructions were, “I need this cover to look really cheesy bad.”

III. Chinese Jackasses Selling My Book for A Buck Fifty. DIE DIE DIE.

There’s this Chinese-based piece-of-shit website (that I won’t name or link to here) that is presenting itself as an “e-bookstore.” Selling ebooks. Even erotica. And everyone’s erotica books are up on the site, for sale. And guess what? They are listed at $1.50 each. Even if the real book (on Amazon, etc.) is only 99 cents. Even if the real book on Amazon is listed at $4.99. These are pirate scum-pigs who are going straight to hell!

All the authors can really do is 1) make voodoo dolls of the site owners; 2) click the little “DMCA” link on the site and use their charming little “contact” form to file a “takedown” request (allege copyright infringement). Then wait and see if they get a response, or what.

One of MY books is on there. Fuckers. So I filled out their little “contact form” and also ordered Moo Goo Gai Pan and spring rolls.