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The Island During the pre-internet days of the 1980’s, the BDSM community was active on what were then called BBS services.  As these were text-only based, they became popular with amateur authors who “published” their writings for the enjoyment of other members, but did not want to have their name associated with the content.  “The Island” is a charming example of this type of steamy writing in the spirit of the film “Swept Away”  that Wasteland has preserved from its early days..

Excerpt:
Dorinda was frantic. The cords that Terry had lovingly cinched upon her wrists hurt. They told her she was captive. Thrall to Mike’s wishes. She still bore the leash upon her neck. She knew he was glorying his importance.
“I know you lick each others cunts,” he said affably as though it was a matter best disposed of.
“Let her go,” Dorinda said hopelessly. “I’ll obey you now.”
“Too late, honey,” Mike guffawed. “You had your chance. But thanks for bringing me this little turtle dove.” He looked at her bleakly. “You know what I’m gonna do to her, don’t you?”
Dorinda was silent. But she knew.

“I’m going to whip her and I’m going to fuck her to a fare thee well. When she starts to bore me I’ll hand her over to the boys.” He laughed in genuine pleasure at the dismay on the faces of his captives. “Do you both good you prissy bitches. Thought you had your cute little cunts locked up in a safety deposit, didn’t you? You’ll find different.” He winked at Dorinda. “You go to the boys right away. But first I’m going to toss you both in the brig to think about what lies ahead. At the end of the fun time I’ve got something really special planned.”

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Slave Girl Hans Meijer A novella by one of the best known European BDSM personalities, Hans Meijer.  Has was a friend of Wasteland for many years before his departure from this mortal coil in 2009.  A lecturer, teacher, author, photographer and film maker of all things “BDSM”, Hans made an impact (leterally at times) on hundres of lives from his hoem in Holland.  He is greatly missed and we present this novel in tribute. In this saga, the heiress of a large corporation is abducted and discovers a world of formalized BDSM training, sex and total submission.

Excerpt:

They handled her with expert ease. The weight of knees on her spine pinned her face down on the floor. They tied her wrists with care. Then roped her elbows so that her forearms were welded as one. They went away, laughing. The sound of the door and its locks was, for Corey Gibson, a knell of doom. Weeping, she stayed where they left her, hurt and shamed and without hope. Her breasts thrust against the stone floor without love. She guessed her nipples inverted, they too would sense despair. But after a space of minutes she struggled to her feet and went to the bench. There was no thought in her mind save that that her elbows were hurting, scorched by their bindings, tugging back her shoulders and her breasts. She tried to wriggle her arms and hands but could not. They were tied tight. She was helpless. The collar round her neck became a greater mockery than before.

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Beyond Redemption Melissa MacNeal Set in the gentle year of 1910, this period S&M meets rollicking romance combines the sadistic elements of the Marquis de Sade with the pastoral imagery of Emily Bronte. A young woman travels to the small Pennsylvania town of Redemption to discover debauchery she had never imagined.  Edwardian Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll? Why not?

Excerpt:

“Oh, Billy…Billy, please….”

My plea floated around us like a phantom, and my back arched of its own accord. With exquisite, deliberate strokes he was setting my insides on fire, fanning the flames with each wet caress–and watching the sensations play upon my face with the smug certainty of bigger and better things to come. His thumb found that button high up in front and I cried out with the startling need it inspired.

“Tell me how bad you want it, Andrea,” he crooned, a magician about to entrance me with his wand. “Clench your cunt for ‘yes’…open your hole for ‘no.’”

My muscles locked around his fingers and the inner spirals began. I recognized them from my own probings–and from those times Cerise and the twins had played their naughty games–but now, with Billy holding me, taking total control with the arm he wrapped around me and the fingers thrust inside, I was a woman lost. My body convulsed in a series of heated seizures, spurred on by his thrusts and the rubbing of his thumb. Before I realized how far gone I was, my cries were echoing around us. I became a mindless machine fueled by need, pumping against the butt of his hand and the fingers that formed a piston inside me.

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