Monday, 25 January 2016

Blue Monday: billierosie guests

Every Monday I post a filthy excerpt for your entertainment!

My guest this week is billierose, with an excerpt from her short story Pasiphae, which appears in the The Beast in Me. And it is, by the way, a superb read, and I loved it - but OMG NOT for the fainthearted, even by Ashbless standards!

Can you guess the theme?

"Our sexual proclivities are an enigma. We have them, we know that they are there; we hide them, we keep them secret – sometimes we act on them. We cannot talk about them – no one would understand. We feel heated shame. We block feeling, turn away from feeling; we do anything not to feel. We crush the horror of the terrible deed that the little voice inside our head bids us do. Freud tells us that repressing feeling will amount to neurosis – Jung says pretty much the same – the repressed will bubble to the surface in one way or another – it will find a way out. 

It will find its voice and it will demand to be heard. 

The two stories presented here delve into the idea of ‘what happens next?’ What do you do – where do you go, after crashing and smashing your way through the final taboo?

A Queen, her depravity told through the millennia. Homer tells her story –Pasiphae the unnatural; the King, her husband, made a cuckold. Men snigger about the royal couple – even now, centuries later. What she did, her shame exposed to all, when she gave birth to a monster.

If you know Homer’s story about the Minotaur, you will know that the Monster is proof that Queen Pasiphae was indeed guilty of a terrible perversion.

And my own tale
“The Beast in Me;” the taboo ever present in Daisy and Noah. They are lovers, besotted with each other; besotted with a terrible secret. They break man’s law and God’s law too.

Sensitive readers should be cautious, especially if easily offended."

Queen Pasiphae had even made drawings on parchment of the type of construction she wanted Daedalus to build for her. He was impressed; she had approach the matter of construction intelligently.

She realised that if the bull were to mount her he would kill her. The bull would crush her to death. She wanted him to build her a hollow cow. Something that she could crawl inside and something that would take the bull’s mighty weight. Her cunt would be exposed; somehow Daedalus was to convince the bull that she was a cow and the bull would copulate with her.

Daedalus had reasoned with her. Had she realised the size of the bull’s erect penis? Would she be able to accommodate him? Didn’t she realise that he could split her in two?

But the Queen countered those questions. She had thought of all of those things. If it was the god’s will that she should die in that way, then so be it.

Daedalus had told the Queen that the King must be informed. Daedalus was, after all, the King’s guest at the court of Knossos. It seemed wrong to actively help the Queen in an unnatural act of adultery without seeking the King’s permission.

Then Daedalus surprised himself at his boldness. Their dialogue had aroused him. And he could smell the meaty, animal stink of the Queen’s arousal. His cock was erect. He lifted his tunic and exposed himself to the Queen. Let her see, he thought. What could she do? She needed him. He stroked his cock, pumping slowly. All the time watching the Queen’s face.

And so I saw what I had come to. Daedalus’ vile behaviour showed me what men and women would think of me. There was no longer any respect, as he exposed and pumped his cock. This was how it would be from now on. Pasiphae, the slut. The Queen who would copulate with a beast. Men would joke about me in taverns, laugh behind my back. They would sing lewd songs about me. The story would be carved out in history; Pasiphae the depraved whore. Pasiphae the perverted, debauched Queen. Daedalus grunted and spurted his seed on the tiled floor, never taking his eyes from my face. He bared his teeth at me. I knelt at his feet obediently, lapping up his spent seed.

The Queen stood before the King, in the magnificent throne room; Daedalus stood at the King’s right hand. King Minos was a big man, yet on this day he seemed shrunken and frail. He had aged years in just a few small minutes. He sat on the sculptured throne, his head in his hands. The frescoes of gryphons guarding the royal throne looked on at the King’s devastation impassively.

Queen Pasiphae was composed; she had told Minos, clearly and slowly what she wanted, needed to do. Now she stood before him, her eyes wide, steadily watching him.

And how magnificent she looked. Every bit a Queen, her blue flounced skirts setting off her deep blue eyes. Her voluptuous breasts were bare and swayed when she moved. She had gold tinted her nipples, as was the custom for a high priestess. Her arms were covered in gold bracelets filled with precious stones. Golden hairpins of crocus flowers decorated her long, tumbling, fair tresses. She wore a costly pendant, shaped and hammered by the court goldsmith, into a bee hive pattern. Pasiphae had dressed for the occasion. Speaking with the authority of the goddess, she diminished her husband. Both she and he knew it.


Daedalus smiled; the previous day he had ordered the Queen to suck his cock. Not because he particularly desired such a thing. But because he wanted to see her beautiful mouth stretched to its capacity by his thickness. She’d gagged as he pushed his long, thick cock into her throat but he’d been relentless. He’d talked to her throughout; telling her that she was dirt; a slut. He’d pulled out to ejaculate on her face; her silky, fair hair sticky with his spunk.


Daedalus admired her composure as she stood before her husband. Not once had she flinched, not even when her husband had cursed her for an evil whore. That she was no better than the women who sell themselves to the sailors at the docks and harbours around the island. She had simply replied that it was what the god demanded; that her husband was to blame for not sacrificing the beautiful white bull to Poseidon.

King Minos had wept his response. He would go down in history as a cuckold. A fool, who would encourage his wife in this perversion. He knew what the gossips around the court whispered; that Minos was an impotent idiot, who couldn’t satisfy his wife.

Now they would know that they were right.

Again, Pasiphae had asserted that it was the god’s will.

Daedalus bowed his head to hide another small smile from playing around his lips. It maybe the god’s will, he thought. But the Queen was desperate for this fucking. The fucking may kill her; but without it she would surely die.

The King rose to his feet as if to strike his wife, but his large frame tumbled and crashed back onto the throne, his limbs twitching and jerking. He tried to speak, but his words were slurred. One side of his mouth dragged down in a terrible sneer. His head fell back; the eyes rolled beneath his lids, showing only the whites. The god had struck him down, silencing him.


Daedalus left the Queen pouring over the drawings he had brought to her apartments. He had ordered her to finger herself before he would give them to her, and desperate as she was, she’d obeyed him. He’d made her pull up her skirts and open her thighs, displaying her open cunt. He’d grinned as he watched the Queen’s fingers slurped, squelching, in and out of her wet hole.

She wept as she fingered herself, little sobs coming from her throat. How much longer would she have to wait? She had begged Daedalus to make haste with his work. She’d flung her arms around his knees, begging him to hurry. The tension had gone on for too long; she couldn’t bear to wait much longer.

Buy The Beast in Me at Amazon US :: Amazon UK

People fascinate billierosie. What makes them tick; what are their secrets and lies. The effete guy in the bank; the blonde lady shopping in the supermarket, the elderly lady living in a care home. What stories could they tell? Perhaps erotic stories of sex, intrigue and fetish?

And fetish is high on billierosie's agenda. The strange, haunting stuff that informs our darkest desires. It could be fur or feathers. Shoes, silk stockings, or toes. Poop or pee. An amputee's stump. If we made a list it would go on forever.

billierosie lives in a pretty village in England. She doesn't fit with village life; certainly not the Women's Institute. billierosie loves the theatre, Art, film, books and all things eccentric. billierosie plans to have fun and stay young, writing sexy erotica.

billierosie's Amazon page

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