"Tarnished by the Incubus" now available for sale!

The fingers traced and scratched up along the inside of Erin's legs, prompting her to moan again, goosebumps forming on her skin as she reacted to his touch, her lips and thighs both parting.

Down in Erin’s dream prison, the girl helplessly felt the physical sensations from the waking world and wove them, interpreting them, creating the people she had known and desired, one shifting into another. Here was Todd -- her first real crush, touching her inner leg even as Rebecca (it was so clearly Rebecca, it could only be Rebecca) held her down. There was Rich, a jerk who she dated exactly once, crooning inaudibly as he ran his hands over her arms and touched her face. There was Stefan, a boy from track who’d barely ever spoken to Erin, his hot breath on her skin….

Those dream men touched her legs, their fingers growing rougher, gripping now, a slight twinge of pain adding to the sensual excitement as they slowly parted them. She was breathing harder now, her hips beginning to move even as she was held down, reflecting a yearning Erin didn’t even know had been inside her.

In the waking world, Rebecca shifted to make sure her hold on Erin was secure. She didn't want the girl going anywhere....

"Tarnished by the Incubus," an erotic horror short story, is now available on Kindle and Smashwords. Read a preview on either site for free!

Erin is a new college freshman, leaving her small town behind, armed only with her excitement and her purity ring -- a symbol of the pledge she took to abstain from all sexual contact. She's excited to meet her new college roommate Rebecca -- a freer spirited woman who she quickly gets to know as a friend and companion.

What she doesn't know is that deep within Rebecca's soul a demon lies in wait. This demon -- Rebecca's master -- feeds upon the experiences and life's energy of the women it takes in dreams. And looking upon the innocent young virgin and the purity she so prizes, this demon grows ever hungrier....

The incubus must feed, and all unknowing, Erin has volunteered to be the feast.

"Tarnished by the Incubus" is the first story of the Incubus of Asaro University.

God, I love Scrivener

Scrivener's the best writing software I've ever used. Bear in mind, when I say "writing software," what I really mean is "writing support software." When I'm actually writing, any RTF editor will do -- if I can put down words and occasionally italicize them, I'm in my happy place.

But, there's more to writing than just... well, writing. There's research, and notes, and formatting, and prepwork, and organization, and reorganization, and... everything.

That's when Scrivener shines. I can stick images in my notes, assign roles, do all the old Dramatica stuff -- you name it. It's amazingly useful when you're juggling short stories or trying to piece together a novel.

And then there's the little things.

One of the things I write are erotic superhero stories. There's a lot of reasons for this (though one is "I find them unimaginably hot," and that's enough sometimes). And there are certain requirements to the form when you're writing superhero stories, erotic or not.

And one of those requirements is naming your cast alliteratively.

It seems silly, I know, but this is a subtle, almost unconscious part of superhero fiction. Cast members have alliterative names. Lois Lane. Clark Kent (alliteration is sound -- CUH-lark CUH-ent). Cassandra Cain. Lex Luthor. Ronnie Raymond. Lana Lang. Peter Parker. J. Jonah Jameson, Larry Lance, Laurel Lance. Et cetera et cetera et cetera.

So, when writing supersmut, obviously I want some amount of alliteration going on. Now, finding names is one of those little things they don't talk about on "writer's inspiration" websites very often. You get ideas, you build characters and situations, you get excited, you sit down at the keyboard, you realize your characters are unnamed and everything stops oh holy crap what do I call these people? Back in the day, you kept phone books at hand or bought lists of names or whatever and you grabbed them desperately, searching for a name that you think fits and that you can get away with.

But Scrivener is a writer's program, so tucked away in a corner it's got a name generator. You can tweak it for regional needs or set levels of obscurity if you want. And at least one guy's got a bunch of great name lists you can import and use, because he is awesome.

And one thing you can set? Is alliteration.

So, I sit down to write a superhero story, I fire up the list generator. I set it to give me a mix of male and female, and decide to only do ten names (I usually do 50, but this is a blog post). And I tell it to "attempt alliteration."

The results -- five guys, five gals:

• Jennifer Jackson
• Jerrica Jones
• Thomas Thackeray
• Eric Ellis
• Angela Adams
• Steven Stewart
• Elizabeth Ellis
• Robert Ramos
• Melissa Miller
• Brian Boyle

If you can't see superheroic possibilities in the above list, you're just not trying. "Jennifer Jackson" should secretly be Jetstar, soaring above the heavens in her turbo-powered skintight suit. Her boyfriend, Brian Boyle, doesn't know that the reason Jennifer keeps breaking dates is her need to use her talents and technology to protect the populace. Their mutual employer and mentor at Technorp, Thomas Thackeray ("everybody calls me Thack"), tries to reassure Brian, but is secretly worried about Jennifer's perceived commitment not just to her relationship but her job. Angela Adams from accounting sees it as a chance to move in on Brian, much to the dismay of Eric Ellis -- who knows Jennifer's secret and whose innovative artificial intelligence skills make the operation of Jetstar's suit possible. He's always liked Angela and disliked Brian, and this all makes it worse. Meanwhile, his sister, Elizabeth Ellis, has unbeknownst to him gotten access to the Jetstar files and used it to create her own turbine-powered AI-driven drones, which she has sent into the city to secure riches for herself and bring down Jetstar once and for all....

Cliché? Yeah, okay. But the tropes exist for a reason, and this was freeform riffing off the names. I didn't even get through them all. Just listen to those cadences. Miss Melissa Miller. Sir Stephen Stewart (I think changing the spelling of a name is legal). The jaunty Jerrica Jones. The righteous Robert Ramos. It highlights why people like Jerry Siegel, Joe Shuster and Stan Lee went to alliteration in the first place. Pe-ter Par-ker is memorable and complex. It flows off the tongue and suggests a complicated man with complicated problems. Clark Kent defines the man in the union suit perfectly -- it's a strong, monosyllabic name that sounds chunky and powerful, but almost feels cumbersome and... well, a little geeky when you look at it. 

So, yeah. This is a tiny little thing that makes all the difference in the world when you're trying to write superheroes.

Of course, that Jetstar paragraph above comes across a little differently when you're writing erotic superhero stories. On the other hand, consider Jenna Jameson, Persia Pele, Jesse Jane, Katie Kox, Jelena Jansen, Ava Addams, Capri Cavalli, Kimberly (yay!) Kane, Gracie Glam, Shazia Sahari....

Yeah. All the ways alliteration works for superheroes also work for porn. Who knew?

It's like Mongolian barbecue for your eyes....

So, one of the things I'm doing is putting together pieces for electronic distribution. Which is another way of saying "I'm building eBooks." Which is actually pretty awesome -- I can write stories wrapped up in dark sensuality or outright erotic terror one day, then the next go with something involving superheroes winning the day. Then drop back to dark but stick with the spandex set. Then go light, bright horror. (Yes, it exists.) In short, I can write about whatever I want, and then I can publish it.

But to produce an eBook properly means producing an eBook cover.

So I've been slowly teaching myself image manipulation software. I own Photoshop legitimately, due to fortuitous circumstances. And there are stock photo sites, like http://www.123rf.com and http://www.shutterstock.com/. Combine these things, and you can put together some perfectly cool eBook covers in your spare time.

The problem is, it costs money to get the stock photos.

Not a lot, mind. A few bucks. But enough to give one pause. But they're nice and let you collect "Lightboxes" full of photos you might want to buy, letting you run through and select potential cover fodder at your will.

And the pictures are so pretty.

Really, it's amazing what you can find on there. I found one picture of a bemasked dusky woman in red holding a pistol to the head of someone she's clearly making love to, while her other hand is handcuffed to his. His eyes are closed and he looks appropriately chiseled, and it has a sense of the immediate all over it and -- oh look, over there there's a picture of a girl in a corset and trenchcoat who's smoldering at the camera, and off to one side why is that a silhouette of a female gunslinger walking with a rifle? Why I think it is!

So you click and click and click and click and the next thing you know your lightboxes have hundreds of images apiece.

The stock companies are ever so nice, though. They're more than happy to let you subscribe. For two hundred and fifty dollars, you can get a one month subscription that'll let you download twenty-five images a day. That's perfect! I can grab everything I could possibly want over the course of a month -- a happy daily download of the best bits of imagery I can find -- the perfect things for romance or horror or romantic horror, eros of all stripes be it adventure or terror! All with no downside -- seven hundred and fifty images, all just waiting to be made mine!

So what's the problem?

Well... for one thing... it's not particularly likely I'm going to publish seven hundred and fifty ebooks in the next month.

I have to stay on an image diet, at least for now. I can look all I like, but I can only buy when I have a story to attach to it. When something hits big, I'll grab a subscription for a month and grab fodder for a good long time, but until something hits big, I need to watch my pennies.

...but it's hard.

Innocence means white cotton undies

I love writing about innocence, especially innocence that becomes lost or corrupted. It just makes a part of my brain (or more earthy bits) go 'bling' in nice, warm ways.

But externalizing innocence sometimes feels repetitive, because if you're going to write about an innocent girl being slowly exposed or drawn out or made vulnerable... you're inevitably going to describe a pair of white panties.

If it's an honest story, you go with cotton panties. Something comfortable, if maybe a little more high cut than what you'd actually wear for comfort. If you're being a little naughtier or emphasizing the virgin aspect, then you add a little lace. Something a bit more 'bridal.' Anything more risqué and you run the risk of disrupting the mental image the reader's built up about your bit of crumpet and her lack of worldliness.

I get it, and it's nice symbolism, but it gets boring sometimes. I know virgins wear interesting panties. (I certainly didn't wear dull underwear all the time, back in the day.) Even if they can't get their hands on $45 panties from Victoria's Secret, they're at least going have some frilly bits. Or patterns. Or color.

But, it takes a very special 'innocence lost' story to have our heroine's light blue dress slowly, lovingly slide up her untouched thighs to reveal... the Wonder Woman themed panties she bought at Target because Wonder Woman is awesome you don't even know.

...actually, now that I think about it, I probably could write that story. But it would be very different than what I'm working on now.

Another opening, another show.

A blank piece of paper, in virtual form. Sensual and sleek. White, pristine pixels waiting to be adulterated by my gentle fingers stroking across the sensitive buttons on the keyboard. Awakening what has been asleep.

Hello. I'm Kimberly. Or Kim. Or hey Dale!

I'd rather not be 'hey Dale,' if we can help it.

I'm a writer. In particular, I peddle smut. Smut about innocence and its loss, about demons and angels, about things just outside the dark which touch us in ways we don't consciously want, but unconsciously need. About super heroes and villains, and how their battles may reflect something more than we were allowed to see on the four color page.

My smut is paid smut. I know a lot of people give it away, but I need to eat and besides -- sometimes it's nice to know you're worth two or three bucks. It's nothing personal. I charge everybody.

Some of you may have noticed my post title. I admit it. I have an unholy love of musical theater. Will there be musical theater smut? Oh, I'd expect so. Look at Cassie in a Chorus Line. You know she wants it. She's begging for it.

Of course, she's under copyright. Sorry, Cass. No can do.

A lot of my writing will touch on power issues, on consent and its lack. This is fantasy -- often dark fantasy -- and in that space we can acknowledge that desire. That appeal. That sense of force, of being forced.

Please do not take this as tacit approval of such things outside of fiction. No always means no. Always. Even if you're a demon.

A couple of other hard rules for me. The youngest characters you'll see in my writing are 19. Sorry if you really love yourself some hebephilic situations. You can find them elsewhere. And younger than that? Ew. Seriously. I know I just talked about how it's fiction and this is a place where we can safely acknowledge those desires but seriously, go talk to someone. Get help. This is not a natural feeling.

Beyond consent and bondage, there may be some pain. There will almost certainly be group sex. There will be female on female, and male on male. There will occasionally be a horrific beast from beyond who violates the innocence of 19 year old junior college student magical girls.

You'll learn a few things about me on this blog, besides the inevitable pimping out of stories. That's cool. I like glimpses. But as for who I am?

Well... who do you want me to be? You're not likely to meet me, unless you already know me -- and if you already know me, you almost certainly don't know I peddle smut. Does that mean my name isn't 'Kimberly Dale?' Who knows? Am I my picture in the corner? Why shouldn't I be? Why couldn't I be? Are these lies?

You'll have to find out, won't you? It's a first date. You'll need to work at it for a second.

See you soon.