Erotic Archives - Violet Malice

11 November 2023

The Raunch Review: Book 30

Quality Street have started wrapping their chocolates in paper instead of shiny plastic. When you open up a tub now, it feels like a bit of a let down. All those dull pastel shapes dumped into a purple plastic octagon waiting to be scoffed. Maybe, they should get rid of the fucking tub and melt it down into something useful. Like a bendy bottom smacker. The tins used to be well good for keeping cakes alive, but they got shot of them long ago. The plastic tub is another sort of single-uselessness and it feels like they are putting the blame on us, the chocolate eating public, for being too greedy. Those fucking tubs can’t be ‘easily recycled’, which basically means they can’t be bloody recycled. There must be something you can use the empty shell for. I Googled it and some dodgy looking website says that you can use your empty tub as an ice bucket or to put clothes pegs in. How wonderful!

Violet’s monthly (let’s be honest) adult book review looks at a bottom smacker of a dirty book. The aim, as always, is to attempt to answer that cracking question: can a good book ever be as stingy as a good fuck?

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Book title: There’s a Whip in My Valise
Author: Greta X
Introduction: John De St. Jorre
Publisher of this edition: Delectus Books
Copyright: © Delectus Books 1995
First published: 1961
Cover design: image engineering

THE RAUNCH REVIEW: Violet’s Verdict

Quick synopsis: Two Swedish hitchhikers tie up an aristocrat in a wood and whip him until he’s in a pretty bad way and then fuck him. This sadist and nympho combo then leave this dude prostrate in his Rolls-Royce on the hard shoulder and go off to visit their friend who is also a dominatrix and full-time nanny for this rich submissive Danish guy. Meanwhile, this German pain expert and her assistant travel to see this Danish gentleman to give him a going over. It culminates with all five sadistic women thrashing this man like dog until he breaks his chains.

Title: This book is all about flagellation, so whips are pretty useful for you know this purpose. The sadists in the book have special cases for their whips and crops and spanking paraphernalia, giving the impression that they are professional purveyors of pain for pleasure. Much like doctors with their big leather bag of tricks. The title is pretty good, because it’s colloquial and casual, almost like ‘just so you know’ there’s a mile long whip in my rucksack if you fancy it.

Cover image: Just wondering why her skirt is so high. Her arse is probably hanging right out. Great thrashing pose. Menacing and yet sexy.

Best sentences in the book:

No pain could interrupt an ejaculation once it had begun.

I don’t want you whipping him into impotency.

He raised his hips and pulled his now flaccid penis out of the blonde’s vagina.

His penis, with its violent thrusts, seemed to reach up as far as her stomach.

He felt it nose against the mouth of her passage.

The tip of the whip curled round him and bit into a testicle.

She felt as though a hundred fingertips, each charged with electricity, were caressing the whole of her sexual nervous system.

“And if you look at his trousers as he comes into the room you’ll see he has an erection.”

“Be careful,” he said. “I may be a high-heel fetishist as Marlene says, but I don’t want to be permanently injured.”

She did not know which she wanted more at that moment – to whip, or to push her dildo into someone.

“Tie up his ball-bag,” said Marlene.

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Overall sexual content: Very moving in the nethers.

All that bum smacking and arse whipping is pretty sizzling. It seems to go on for ages, which like climbing a mountain gets you all light headed and wobbly kneed. The women are sexual predators, but it tastes very strongly like the book is written for men to wank over, which spoilt it for me.

Overall conclusion: 7 out of 10.

Titillation station: There’s a really good bit where all the five sadists and the Danish host are having a slap up meal around his big polished mahogany table. They wrap cord around his big ball bag and cock and yank on this string while he’s trying to eat his soup. It’s pretty fucking funny. And I’ve always had a bit of a thing about fine dining with all those dinner jackets and no trousers. Under the table is where all the raw meats and fleshy thighs are being fingered.

Food for thought: Sadly Greta X was actually an Englishman of some status and you can tell. The book would be out of this world if it had actually been written either by a woman or for a general delicious reader rather than directed at men. For instance, it’s annoying that there is a great focus on how attractive all the women are, which really isn’t necessary. It also spoils it that all the men are seemingly going along with the submissive thing, they are not totally sold on it. In the end, the Danish guy rips off his shackles whilst he’s been thrashed and starts brutally attacking the women. This is a total no-no. They should have fucking killed him dead. That’s how I wanted it to end.

P.S. The guy in the Rolls-Royce goes to the police and says he was throttled and sexually assaulted by two men rather than two women. He ends up getting a taste for ‘unusual’ sex because of what happened to him that cold afternoon. I’m not sure it really works like that.

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24 September 2023

The Raunch Review: Book 29

I bought some body mist the other day, for obvious reasons, I was smelling particularly fruity and didn’t have access to cleaning facilities. This bottled stuff is supposed to smell like ripe plums and electrical wiring, for that, and I quote, ‘unexpected and yet reassuring’ odour. Now, I’m pretty broad minded but what the hell?! What does that even mean? I haven’t been able to think about anything else since. Stepping in dog shit is unexpected and appalling. Catching a whiff of bacon and onions frying is reassuring, especially if you’re hungry. But what exactly is unexpected and yet reassuring, a lottery win or maybe food poisoning. I sniff myself and I am reassured.

Violet’s weekly (give or take) adult book review looks at a hairy hand grenade of a pocket rocket. The aim, as always, is to attempt to answer that stupid arse question: can a good book ever be as comforting as a good fuck?

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Book title: I’m For Hire: The Memoirs of a Prostitute
Author: Marie Therese
Introduction: Robert Kramer
Publisher of this edition: Brandon House
Copyright: © Brandon House 1966
First published: 1966
Cover image: Unknown

THE RAUNCH REVIEW: Violet’s Verdict

Quick synopsis: A French prostitute called Janet tells us all about her sexual activities with lots of different men and women, on both sides of the conflict. She finds herself flitting from pillar to post peddling her fleshy treats, pursued by lovers, pimps and the fats.

Title: Capitalism and the body collide, yeah. In a time when women had to do anything and everything to survive and thrive. That included a serious wedge of the filthy paper money stuff for a serious wedge up the arse by a power hungry cock swinging uniform with a fragile body hidden inside.

Cover image: Sultry lady plus French flag and a swastika. In other words French prostitute shags members of the Nazi party.

Best sentences in the book:

There was one who shot off while he was putting on his rubber.

And I still had a guy on my belly who hadn’t finished coming.

To get out of sleeping with him, I had a doctor fix me up with a paper saying I had something wrong with my plumbing and had to lay off for a while.

I had to suck him off, keep his gismo in my mouth, spit it back into his mouth, and wind up by poking the handle of a toothbrush up his asshole.

My cunt was numb.

Since he was a Nazi and kept yattering about that fuck-in-the-ass Hitler, I was afraid to ask him for dough.

Well, Suzanne goes to find some butter, sticks a wad in her pussy, calls the Pekinese and has him get down to work licking her clean.

The officer pulled him close and squeezed the kid’s head between his thighs and pushed it against his belly as if he were fucking him three feet deep in the mouth.

Since the old guy kept sticking his finger in her pussy to feel if there were any results, I had to keep spitting the whole time so the old shit-in-his-pants would think she was coming like a broken water main.

An old bucket-cunt veteran from the Rue Saint-Denis did her best to comfort me.

Whenever I was pregnant I’d haul out the scraper.

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Overall sexual content: Disappointing and not in a good way.

The sex is briefly described and although there are some funny metaphors the writing lacks pizzazz. The premise promises a lot but fails to deliver any sort of satisfaction. It feels rushed and unfulfilling, which maybe is the point.

Overall conclusion: 4 out of 10.

Titillation station: I wanted her to fuck Hitler, but alas she doesn’t even get her teeth into a member of the Gestapo. She avoids high ranking officers. She fucks on both sides of the lines and doesn’t make much of it. She falls in love pretty quickly with her various pimps, which again is lazy and cliched. She fucks women for pleasure, which is promising, but all details are lacking.

Food for thought: I was hoping that this book would be a tour de force from a prostitute that laid out the Nazis, one by one. Took some power back. Trampled on some hard dicks in prick heels. I feel as though the historical context was just used to sucker in readers and that actually the content is poor and forgettable.

Uniforms are sexy. Power is sexy. Sadly. War is all about the abuse of power. Sex is about power. Paying for sex is about power. Maybe it would have been better written from the third person, as a voyeur to all that action.

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4 September 2023

The Raunch Review: Book 28

I just had the old helium balloon treatment. It was that time of year again: my birthday. Poppers (of the party variety) were pulled. Fluorescent fizzy drinks and icecream dribbled down throats and filled up bellies, right to the top. Some people thought I was older than it says on my records, which I took as a compliment. Age is a good thing after all. Everything tastes better with age, including my third runway and the small strip of bacon between the brown wire and the pink switch. Nobody blew me (my candles out), or crowned my wobbly jelly with squirty squirt squirt cream, so overall it could have been better.

Violet’s weekly (give or take) adult book review looks at another hunk of steaming meat and it’s an oozing pyramid of hot fluids. The aim, as always, is to attempt to answer that stuffed crust framed question: can a good book ever be as buoyant as a good fuck?

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Book title: Wetlands
Author: Charlotte Roche
Translator: Tim Mohr
Publisher of this edition: Fourth Estate
Copyright: © Charlotte Roche 2008
First published: 2008
Cover photo: ballyscanlon / Getty Images

THE RAUNCH REVIEW: Violet’s Verdict

Quick synopsis: Helen is in hospital having arse surgery (haemorrhoids) and she is just 18 years old. So, the question on everyone’s lips (top lips): is what the hell has she been doing with her arse? Well, you are about to find out. The book goes into intricate details on exactly what she has been doing down there, and needless to say she’s been pretty rough with it. In the meantime, she is trying to get her parents back together by being in the hospital as long as possible, which involves her gouging her own wounded rectum by sitting on the metal brake attached to the wheels of her hospital bed.

Title: Wetlands are distinct ecosystems that are saturated with water. Helen is obsessed with bodily fluids, particularly discharge from her vagina. She is always daubing fluids everywhere, this includes wiping her slit and crack all over toilet seats, and leaving homemade tampons in unusual places where people will find them. I reckon that this is the link to the title, as the term is not used at all during the book. I kept my eye out for it.

Cover image: Half an avocado, length ways. A nice view of the stone. Helen grows avocados, which is pretty difficult. The stone needs to be treated in a particular way to get it to sprout (I’m an expert, having sprouted over 50 of my own avo stones for pleasure). The stones actually go very slimy before they germinate. Obviously, Helen puts them up her cunt. She’s been sterilized, so she treats these avocado stones like her babies.

Best sentence/s in the book:

The thought of anal incontinence worries me.

I’ve experimented with long periods of not washing my pussy.

For me, the smell of plain old shit or piss is better than the disgusting perfumes people buy.

I dip my finger into my pussy and dab a little slime behind my earlobes.

Like another thing I get a kick out of: when I’m alone in the bathtub and I have to fart, I try to get the air bubbles to glide up between my pussy lips.

I root round like a squirrel down there, and just as I’m falling asleep I have the impression there’s a log of crap poking out of my ass.

I’m appalled at my own asshole – or rather, what’s left of it.

I really like to smell and eat my smegma.

Sometimes it’s like cottage cheese, other times like olive oil, depending on how long it’s been since I washed.

I’d love to eat a pizza with sperm from five different guys on it.

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Overall sexual content: There are some hot bits. There’s a bit where she describes masturbating, which is erotic. But sadly most of the sex stuff is more funny or grotesque than sexy. I mean, she uses the word slime to describe pussy juice, which is pretty hideous.

Helen visits this fella who shaves her. It has the potential to be titillating. But it’s just not. Possibly because the central character is so strange. She takes great pleasure in doing stuff that most people would never want to do, even within the realms of fetish. For example, she eats someone’s sick because it has undigested drugs in it and feeds her own tears to this nurse she fancies by carefully pouring them into individual grapes that she has stuffed with a cashew nut. What the fuck, as they say??

Overall conclusion: 2 out of 10.

Titillation station: It’s not sexy. It’s fucking boring, really. When someone just spews out the most extreme thing they can think of to get a reaction, it quickly gets pretty mundane. The whole way through it just feels like the author is trying to win the Guinness World Record for the most shocking/obscene/disgusting book and that makes it insincere and farcical. What happens is that nothing feels authentic or relatable. It is all an exercise in fake tits and teeth. I suppose it could be a parody or something, of the modern young woman, but if it is then there’s no pay off.

Food for thought: This book is a tough one for me. It’s explicit, big tick. But, the problem is that it is gratuitous.

It’s so easy to be gross. I can think of a million horrible things, but what’s the point. Especially when we are all so unshockable now, why not try something genuine? However boring that might be, it would be less boring than this horse shit.

People are massive on avocados. Smashed. Sliced. Creamed. All smoothied up. The cover alone probably got all those avocado-on-toast people going.

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The Raunch Review: Book 25

Spring is in the air, my dear! Or that’s what I hear from all those party people that like to blow on about the state of the clouds and the moisture levels and all that, where has the sun gone etc etc. Why is it so chuffing cold? Well, at bloody cock-fucking last, that’s what I say.

My Valentine’s date went pretty badly, thanks for asking. I’d prefer not to go into the ins and outs, but I will because I can see that you’re pleading with me. The long and short of it is (and he was pretty short, in that department) that I caught norovirus from this guy’s arse. I was getting down to it and I suddenly felt very sick indeed. As sick as a projectile vomiting dog with a chronic shitting disease. Subsequently, I experienced the full force of my failure to consider the general rules on hygiene and respectability. Needless to say, he got out of there sharpish and left me swanning around in my own effluent.

Anyway, I’ve pressure washed the carpets and incinerated the duvet covers, so I’m good to blow on. Violet’s weekly adult book review is back and it’s a eye ball squeezer of a dystopian Sci Fi banger set in little England. The aim, as always, is to attempt to answer that scalding question: can a good book ever be as greasy as a good fuck?

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Book title: The Gas
Author: Charles Platt
Publisher of this edition: Savoy Books Ltd
Copyright: © Charles Platt 1970
First published: 1970
Cover illustration: Harry Douthwaite

THE RAUNCH REVIEW: Violet’s Verdict

Quick synopsis: An accident in a factory releases a gas, which settles over southern England, and makes everyone go sex mad and/or outrageously violent. In essence, it strips humans and animals of all their inhibitions and pent-up urges. The book follows Vincent, who in part is responsible for the release of the gas, as he tries to get back to his wife and kids in order to take them to Scotland (where the gas can’t reach).

Title: It does what it says on the tin really. Pretty much sums up what we’re dealing with. The gas happens and nothing will ever be the same again in little England, where everyone is so totally repressed.

Cover image: The cover is extraordinary and screams FUCK ME I’M A SCI FI CLASSIC. A great example of the crass grisly cover art of that period. The illustration is pretty bestial, aggressive and intimidating, which is an accurate reflection of the shit between the covers. Some strange Medusa like person is dribbling over her own tits, nice. Circles, lots of circles, circles are sexy.

Best sentence/s in the book:

The aura of sex she was radiating was like sitting next to an electric fire.

The waves of swelling pleasure emanating from his prick seemed to be coming from the car itself.

Vincent watched helplessly as the policeman started massaging the dog’s penis, first as if to dispel the pain, but then faster.

She smelled of sweat and old condoms.

A party of suburban wives had tied their husbands down naked on the floor in a long line, and were playing a sexual variation of musical chairs on them.

In the corner, a group of schoolboy plane-spotters had grabbed aircraft models from the check-in counters and were experimentally seeing how far the models’ fuselages would penetrate up each other’s anuses.

His fingers squelched into her fat, slobbery cunt.

The priest tried to kneel up, slipped, fell on his side and started shitting uncontrollably.

He was a red and pink and brown pudding on the floor.

“I’ve come!” he yelled, jism started rushing up past his face in long, sticky streamers, pulled out of Cathy’s cunt by the roaring wind.

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Overall sexual content: The book is absolutely crammed with sex and violence. It begins very sexily and then quickly degrades into a sex crazed gore fest. There is a very erotic element to the sex at the beginning of the book, which is urgent and desperate, but not yet totally alienating and hate fuelled. Obviously as the book progresses the sex gets more and more extreme, almost to the point where life no longer matters anymore and sex is used simply as a weapon and orgasm as a means to regaining a small degree of rationality.

It is very interesting that the sexual anarchy that ensues sees men and women at war with each other. Both men and women seize the opportunity to abuse and violate the opposite sex in a way that implies that that is what they have always wanted but never been brave enough to make happen.

Overall conclusion: 9 out of 10.

Titillation station: The beginning chapters are right up there on the sexy scales. The sex is hot and titillating, despite the fact that once again men are in the driving seat (metaphorically and literally, lots of sex happens a stolen Rolls Royce) and women are given no choice but to suck it up. However, all the erotic charge of the book dries up instantly as the sex becomes more and more taboo and extreme.

Food for thought: It is an absolute banger of a book. One of my all time favourites. It’s no wonder that when it was released in the UK in 1980 it was seized by the book police. It is unapologetically rough. In more ways than one. Charles probably wrote it in a week – given the amount of spelling mistakes – and the fact that this writer and journalist in his own right, wrote it for money for the magnificent churner outer of erotic and avant-garde literary fiction Ophelia Press. I’m tempted to read his hands-on non-fiction works on electronics just for kicks.

There is a big section in the book where Cambridge University students begin kidnapping women to carry out appalling supposedly scientific but totally sexual experiments on them. Most of the descriptions are gratuitous and inherently cruel, with most of the women dying as a result. What is implied here and explicitly stated at one point, is that these men have always felt an inner dislike/threat from female sexuality and take the opportunity in a lawless society to enact horrific acts on women in the name of science, as some sort of fucked up form of revenge for something unsaid/unknown.

I would have given it the top bollocks (10/10) but the end just deflated my arse before I was satisfied. Sadly, with great ideas sometimes there is no way that the end can live up to the promised climax.

P.S. I wasn’t too keen on the incest stuff even though I get that it’s the big taboo. At least the violence was very obviously horrific, whereas the incest was presented in a loving and sexy way, which was a pretty mouldy dick to swallow.

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12 February 2023

The Raunch Review: Book 24

Greetings from the middle of February. Are you ready for a thriller?

I have been swelling. Like a jaundice Soufflé aux épinards. I looked in the mirror one rusty morning and was pretty bowled over. I had grown at least two feet and still had the remnants of the night before on my face. I had juiced a man’s prostate. He had a lot in the trap, if you catch my drift. I suspect he hadn’t let the pigeons out in a while. They were all breaking their necks to get into the fresh air. It’s nice to feel close to someone sometimes. Like right up in their mechanism. Anyway, Violet’s weekly adult book review has dropped and it’s a hard-boiled bollock of a thriller. The aim, as always, is to attempt to answer that pregnant question: can a good book ever be as brain-dead as a good fuck?

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Book title: In The Cut
Author: Susanna Moore
Publisher of this edition: Weidenfeld & Nicolson
Copyright: © Susanna Moore 1995
First published: 1995
Cover image: Emilio Brizzi / Millennium Images, UK

THE RAUNCH REVIEW: Violet’s Verdict

Quick synopsis: In The Cut is a gut wrenching thriller, which follows the comings and goings, and inner workings, of an English teacher at New York University who becomes sexually involved with a policeman investigating the brutal murders of a number of women in the area.

Title: This one has multiple levels of meaning. The murders all involve women being butchered with blades. Our narrator, Frannie, is also studying New York street slang, which unsurprisingly is very derogatory in nature. Being ‘in the cut’ is used by several characters to mean ‘in the vagina’.

Cover image: A close-up of a side profile looking backwards. It is a loaded look, make-up laden and sexual, vulnerable and yet defiant. Certainly, women in this book are being hunted and brutalised. They are the target of hatred even though they don’t necessarily realise it yet.

Best sentence/s in the book:

“My dick’s so sweet, it’ll give you cavities.”

The cunt was fucking everything that walked.

I, who refused for years to let my husband in Paris realize his life’s ambition of photographing a scorpion in my vagina.

“You know, all you really need is two tits, a hole and a heartbeat.”

He doesn’t talk about sex the way some men do, wanting to go over it, wanting to hear the woman describe what it was like, how she hadn’t been able to wipe herself for a week.

“I loved her so much I used to eat her every night.”

She had a meaty, fat pussy.

He turned me around and bent me over the desk, yanking my skirt around my waist, and pulled aside my underpants and pushed his fingers, fingers, all his fingers inside me.

“The only way I could tell he’d come was that he’d look at his watch.”

I was suddenly ashamed, ashamed that there would be an odor, or that his cock would have shit on it, and I could not look.

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Overall sexual content: The book is full of sex. It is a thriller in more ways than one. Raw, stinking and writhing about the page on the knife edge between lust and hate. It is not an erotic book for me – in the sense that the brutality and general malice that accompanies all the sexual scenarios dribbles through and makes the sex repulsive. Sex is made into something dangerous and frightening, something violent and isolating. It is clap cold, like a body on a slab.

Aside from the undercurrent of violence that permeates this thriller and annihilates the majority of the titillating aspects, the sex is fantastically well drawn. It feels authentic and desperate and real. Who said that erotica has to encourage positive sexual feelings? Maybe it can make us shrivel up and dry.

Overall conclusion: 10 out of 10!!!!

Titillation station: It is titillating to a very small degree. The sexual passages are detailed and arousing. That is part of its power. Sex has got a lot to do with the power dynamic, whichever way you position it. And the feelings we have about sex are complex and hard to comprehend.

Food for thought: It is one of the best books ever written, in my puffed up opinion. It captures something important, something that exists and walks around with us. The female characters are also flawed. The narrator suspects that the policeman she is fucking is a bad man, but she keeps having it off with him anyway. It paints female sexual desire on the page in a brash and real way, as present and obvious. Over the top of that is daubed the aggressive and predatory sexual desire of the male characters, who hold powerful positions in society that are supposed to protect us. The policeman’s hat and the policeman’s badge. His hand cuffs and his arrest warrants. Particularly, it illustrates the use of sex as a weapon and the culture amongst men that can dehumanise the object of their desires. Maybe because they have become too responsible for their own lives.

Nobody can ignore when reading this book – and probably why it was reissued in 2021 – the parallels with the real culture of misogyny in the police force. The devastating atrocities that have happened in recent memory in full view. The way women are described and the way sex is achieved in this book is pumped full of disgust and one-upMANship.

I won’t ruin the end. Or tell you how it turns out. Except that it is devastating and close to the nerve to acknowledge that a policeman cutting women’s nipples off and eventually using them as chum, and that person being very confident that he will get away with it, is not shocking and it should be.

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