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December 03, 2014
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The British government released a new set of guidelines this week, banning certain sex acts from porn .Clearly there is only one thing to do: write a dystopian erotic novel about brave sex rebels defying their literally repressive government to spread their beautiful pornography from Plymouth to Aberdeen.

The British government released a new set of guidelines this week, banning certain acts from appearing in pornography, including spanking, caning, fisting, verbal abuse (regardless if consensual), and female ejaculation. Clearly there is only one thing to do: write a dystopian erotic novel about brave sexual rebels defying their literally repressive government to spread their beautiful pornography from Plymouth to Aberdeen. Here is an excerpt from that novel.


They say things used to be different. Better. That there was a time when any freedom-loving young porn auteur could proudly set up a camera in a Norfolk cellar, grab a willing bloke and bird, and put “XXX HOTT Nanny Dominatrix Spanks Naughty Naughty Nursery Man” on the Internet, without fear.

That was before the Great Change. The Audiovisual Media Services Regulations 2014.

Missionary was not sure she even believed in the Time Before. Sure, Grandpa used to lull her to sleep with stories of free and open caning vids, but surely that was just an old man’s fairy tales. Surely the golden era when women did not have to conceal their ejaculation had never existed.

But it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the people of Bad Porn Britain had had enough.

“They’re here!” P-In-V-Sarah yelled. (In the future, everyone had sex names. Government approved sex names.) “They’re here! The sex thought police, sent by our repressive government to shut down our brave rebellious female ejaculation porn shoot! We’re doomed! We’ll all be sent to sex reeducation camp! Blimey!”

“We’ll see about that,” the director said darkly. “Keep calm and carry on fisting and caning each other.”

“Bob’s your uncle,” Missionary said bravely, and she and P-In-V-Sarah caned and fisted. As she did so, she looked at the director from beneath her sooty lashes. He was the leader of their secret sex rebellion. Before she’d met him she’d been such a naive good girl, only appearing in the most vanilla of porn. But the director, Vanilla, had changed all that. He had stolen her illusions, and, secretly, her heart. She sighed as she slammed her cane down on P-In-V-Sarah’s pert buttocks. Would Vanilla ever notice her?

“Maybe we should stop,” said Not Good Sex nervously. At least Missionary thought he was nervous. It was hard to tell when Only On Sundays was sitting so fiercely on his face.

“No!” Vanilla said. “We’re going to finish this kinky porn even if it costs us our freedom! Our poor oppressed nation’s kinky spank bank must be as full as our hearts!”

Just then the doors burst open. Oh cor, it was the sex bobbies! Missionary wasn’t sure what was more terrifying: Their future guns that shot prude rays, or their weird tall hats.

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You know, weird tall hats.

“Stop!” the head sex thought bobby yelled. “Stop having that kinky sex, or stop filming it, or change to having regular sex and keep filming it! Any of those would fulfill the law!”

At this unspeakably cruel command Missionary, Not Good Sex, P-In-V-Sarah, and Only On Sundays all froze. They were caught. What could they do but surrender? For a long silent moment, the only sound was the chiming of Big Ben. They were in Big Ben.

Then Only On Sundays raised his chin and sat even more firmly on Not Good Sex’s face. “Viva la revolucion!” he cried. Missionary felt a gush of pride at how brave Only On Sundays was, grounding his crotch down as though he could ground out oppression with it. No, wait, the gush Missionary felt wasn’t pride.

“It’s happening, Missionary!” Vanilla cried. “You’re female ejaculating! You truly are the Chosen One!”

“Stop at once!” yelled the sex police, “Or we’ll be forced to use our truncheons!”

“You mean to cane us with?” yelled Missionary. “Do it! You’ll only make us stronger!”

Pride shone in Vanilla’s eyes as he leaned in and gave her her first kiss. Missionary’s stomach fluttered. Everything melted away: The policeman prodding her with a truncheon, P-In-V-Sarah hitting her with a cane, the fact that she was still ejaculating. In this moment, she didn’t care that she was probably headed for a lengthy sentence in Sexkaban. All she cared about was true love.

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