Taig C. Dale

I write rape. I write a lot of other things, too. I write erotica that’s playful, teasing, sweet, and sexy; I write hot BDSM and Domination that’s either safe, sane, and consensual or at least ‘risk-aware kink’, depending on your flavor. But I also write rape, and it’s the non-consensual subject matter that — rightfully […]

I came home and found the note. ‘Home’, then, was Guan-Yin’s apartment, one of several she had, this one near Schaarbeek in Brussels. The note was in her writing. All it was was an address. No instructions. No signature. Just an address, near Brussels Noord. I recognized the street; it was in the roze wijk, […]

“You are not angry.” It was a lofty claim, even from Guan-Yin, whose wisdom I had come so to admire. Lofty, indeed, considering that I was red-faced, teeth bared, shouting, and threatening her with a kitchen knife. That seemed pretty ‘angry’ to me.

“We are the Dragon,” Guan-Yin philosophized over the Go board. I never minded such lectures; I found them as beautiful as I found the game, as beautiful as I found the player. Serene, calm, and a meditation in layers upon layers of complexity. “And yet we are not. Individually we are lacking; collectively we are […]

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The heart monitor beat a steady rhythm, accompanied by the soft whoosh-whish of the breathing machine. A mangled body lay in the bed, ostensibly female, cloaked in so many wires and electrodes that it was hard to see bare skin. Bandages swathed the head. The torso. An arm in a cast. […]