Who is Evangeline? Or a lesson in female desire

Why did I choose Evangeline as my name? What does Eve mean to me? I am asked that often.

Evangeline sounds so sweet and pure. Evangeline is also the pen name of one of my favourite smutty authors. Or so I thought.

Some years ago I was holidaying with my then young child but without my partner. I was staying at my parents’ place and felt very sexually frustrated. I had time on my hands and began to discover the treasure trove of pornographic writing available on the Internet. It was possible to download whole libraries of smut. Hundreds of pieces of writing in one single file. Unedited. Uncensored. Un-vetted.

I voraciously devoured these writings which ranged from Mills and Boonish to fan fiction to pornographic writing and erotica, to the debauched, depraved and downright fantastical. In the process my mind was opened to the enjoyment of all kinds of possibilities I had never before considered. Sex with aliens, animals, dragons, groups. Violent plyamorous sex. Vampires. Many, many alpha men. What appealed to me about these writings was that unlike most visual porn, they were written by women for women. And while I have reservations about the portrayal of gender relations and sexual power in many of the stories, it is undeniable that they are designed to tap into women’s psyche to give them pleasure and fulfill their as yet unimagined desires.

One short story in particular caught my imagination. It was about a young woman being trained to be the sexual partner and mate of a mysterious and authoritative man. I can’t remember whether he was a king or something else. The training involved her presenting herself daily to practice receiving ever larger dildos up the arse. The story detailed her fear, her desire to please her master and her arousal at pleasing him despite the pain he demanded from her. In the climax of the story she is once again in the training room viewing the array of dildos lined up on the table in ascending sizes. She knows it is the last day of her training and that her test will be to receive the enormously large dildo at the end of the table. She preps herself and waits for her master in fear. He finally arrives, and as expected selects the huge dildo, described as being as thick as his forearm. She bends over and presents herself and he slowly works the dildo into her. The pain is excruciating and she has tears running down her face as she submits to this ordeal. Finally she manages to take it all. Her master smiles at her lovingly and tells her she has passed the test and that he loves her and that she is irresistible to him. He then holds her in his arms for the first time and kisses her.

I don’t know what it was about this story, but it simultaneously repulsed and aroused me. I was fascinated by the huge dildo and the young woman’s fear of it but longing for it. Maybe it was the idea of someone enjoying pain as a token of their devotion the joining of love, pain and power that drew me to the story.

The author of the story was identified as Evangeline Anderson. It struck me as a delicious irony that such a sweet name should be used by such a smutty author. I loved the name and was fascinated with her writings. They were at the extreme end of BDSM and submission, with the woman always being the submissive, tortured, humiliated and ultimately redeemed by a mysterious, all powerful yet loving master.

There was just one problem. Reading all of this porn made me incredibly horny and I had no way to bring myself to orgasm. Why? When I was a young girl, about 8 or 9 I discovered that when I was hanging from the monkey bars, if I crossed my legs and attempted a pull up, the tension generated in the internal muscles was enough to make myself cum. I did not, of course, at the time know that it was an orgasm, or even what an orgasm was. But I liked the feeling and perfected the technique over time. As a result I never learned to bring myself off using my hands. At my parents’ place I did not have access to suitably private monkey bars. I would try to get myself to cum with my hand and would get close but I just couldn’t figure out how to send myself over the edge.

This went on for 3 weeks while I got increasingly more horny and frustrated.  I would think about sex all the time. Fantasising about all manner of things. It was a delicious agony. When I finally, finally worked out how to cum, the orgasm was out of this world. And the lesson about abstinence and tease and denial was instructional.

In retrospect I think that identifying the author of these stories as Evangeline Anderson may be a false memory, as I have never been able to find the stories on my computer (or anywhere else) again using those search terms. As it is, Evangeline Anderson is the author of the infamous Planet X. Either way, the name stuck, and ultimately I became Miss Evangeline.

The Number

Lilly had been perpetually shy her entire life. She had been a little frumpy as a kid and was often teased, underpinning her fragile self-esteem. She had grown in to a very attractive woman, though she hid it under layers of baggy loose fitting clothes. She often garnered attention from men, but she would always fob them off. “I’ve got a boyfriend” “I’m just too busy” “I’m gay” were her go to retorts, and she would always berate herself for not having the courage to receive the advances more openly.

Typically Lilly would be dragged out for after work drinks on a Friday, in her colleagues never ending attempts to loosen her up a bit. One particular Friday while at the bar a typically handsome man, tall, athletic and adorned in the thin woollen sweater of the time made his approach, only to be suitably halted by the well-worn boyfriend line. He politely wished her well and went about his business.

While Lilly was in the depths of her standard self-delivered lecture she was approached by a man who did nothing more than place a card in front of her. No conversation, no contact of any kind. Lilly wasn’t even certain that she saw his face. The card was blank except for a phone number. Lilly was preparing to throw away the card when it dawned on her that even though she didn’t know what he looked like, he had jumped the first hurdle. The line of communication was possible without the abrupt nature of a cold approach. Lilly tucked the card in to her handbag.

Lilly didn’t call the man. But, it had awakened a part of her mind that had been laying dormant her entire life. She started fantasising about what might have been. Her first thoughts were defensive, what if he meant her harm? After a while this dissipated and she started wondering what an encounter between the two would be like. These thoughts began to consume her. She would lay awake in a state of ponderous arousal. Lilly had never been comfortable enough in herself to masturbate, but there was no diminishing the life that had sprouted between her legs. Waves of pleasure overcame Lilly time and time again but it just wasn’t enough to send her in to the stratosphere that she now thought she was capable of.

It finally became too much. Lilly, in the midst of another solo carnal mission knew that if she was to get any further she needed the man that started it all. So she defied her instincts and made the call.
Every note of the dial tone pierced Lilly’s soul. It rang, and rang, and just as she thought it would ring out, silence. This was it, there was someone on the other end of the line. “I knew you’d call.” Lilly was taken aback, “How did you know it was me?” “It doesn’t matter” the voice replied. “There is a sexual being inside of you and if you want someone to wake her up you need to meet me at Windsor Hotel, room 304 at 9 tonight. Wear a long coat and nothing else.” Silence, the call was over.
Against her normally conservative judgement, Lilly knew that if she didn’t go, this endless frustration would haunt her for the rest of her life. Before she had time to over think it, she draped a long grey coat over her naked body, slipped on a red pair of heels, and made her way to the hotel.

Face to face with the timber panel door, there was no thought of turning back, but Lilly was nervous. She gathered herself, and raised her trembling hand and knocked. The door opened.
The room was dark, the curtains were drawn and all the appliances had been turned off. Lilly was ushered in, “Just stand in the middle of the room.” Lilly replied, “Who are you?” The voice, hidden in the dark returned, “I am your guide.” Lilly questioned, “My guide for what?” The voice, “This is the last you will hear of me speaking.” Lilly then felt his warm breath just behind her ears; he must be a little taller. He reached around her waist, and started unbuttoning her coat. Lilly trembled as his wrists gently brushed her breasts. His movements were slow and deliberate, the arousal heightening with the loosening of every button, until the last. The coat eased its way apart as it was slowly lowered from the shoulders until it dropped on the floor. Lilly was completely naked but for the heels, and as the voice pushed himself against her back, she realised that he was naked as well. She was in, her soul had submitted to his. She began to visibly shake as she felt his hands roaming around her. His touch was gentle, using just his fingertips as he explored her quivering form. She visibly convulsed as he brushed the area between her navel and now sopping groin. He raised his hands to her arms. His grip firmed, and he directed Lilly to the wall.

Lilly’s hands were placed shoulder width apart on the wall. The voice had broken contact and proceeded to gently blow on her neck. The goose bumps were unbearable, Lilly screamed, “I can’t take any more” pushed her behind outwards, and grabbed the throbbing phallus behind her and slid it inside her. “Fuck me you evil cunt!” she cried, and he duly obeyed. He obeyed? Lilly now knew that she was in control. “Deeper!” she cried as the strained breath of the other was becoming more evident. “Harder!” “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Waves were crashing in Lilly’s mind. One orgasm after the other, she was too far in to stop in between. She had never known such power and bliss. She threw him on the bed, climbed on top and continued. She had truly reached ecstasy. Lilly was not of this world any more. On the crest of one final climax she felt a violent shudder from underneath. Now it was he who was convulsing uncontrollably under her. As a gesture of gratitude, Lilly climbed off the pulsing cock and stroked until he exploded all over her hand.

The exchange of power was complete, with that warm seed still dripping Lilly was in control now. The nervous shaking woman that entered that room put her coat on and strode out, never again to deny that which had been ferociously awakened.

By Magnus Andersen