What I can do now is share an excerpt from each of the stories making up the book. As I mentioned a while back, once I got my rights back to it, I revamped the story I'd written for an anthology at another publisher. Amazon takes a huge chunk of royalties if a book is priced under 2.99, and I just didn't think it's fair to any of us-- readers or me-- to price a 12k story at 2.99. Y'all should get more for your money, and I should earn more for my work.
So, I fixed up the original story, and wrote a whole new story, too! These are BDSM shorts, and if y'all enjoy them, I may make it into a series, two stories per book. The combined word count is under 30k, but that may fluctuate with the next two stories.
Anyway, here's a peek at the first story, followed by the second :
Excerpt from Power Series: Exchange
Thomas closed his eyes. He needed a man who’d submit to him and mean it. A man who did it because submission was an inherent part of his nature, not because it was fun to play along with the whole popular and “newly discovered” world of BDSM.
Thomas would have sat there with his eyes closed for God only knew how long had he not heard someone say, “Let Thomas grab you by yours.” For some reason, even in the noisy club, he heard those words and had to stop moping and see what was going on.
And what—who—he saw made his blood heat in his veins. Thomas sat up a little straighter as he watched one of the older more experienced subs hesitantly making his way over.
The man was long-limbed, more sharp elbows and knees than muscles. He had an arresting face; not classically handsome, more impish, maybe, like it wouldn’t have been a surprise to discover he had pointed ears.
Thomas would have scoffed at his own description, but it fit. The way the approaching sub’s eyes shone, the slight upward curve of his full lips, all lent him a fae air. Thomas knew his name, too.
Hank Evans. Jesus! He knew that name well, because he’d kind of had a thing for Hank since he’d first seen him submitting in a scene on stage for another dom.
But they’d never been available at the same time, what with Thomas being with Kelly, and Hank having a few different doms. Now, however, they were both free to interact in whatever way suited them.
Thomas felt something hot and hungry come alive in him as he watched Hank.
Hank held his head up high, but didn’t look Thomas directly in the eyes. Thomas could tell that it was difficult for Hank to approach him, and he appreciated the struggle playing out over Hank’s features the closer he came.
Thomas’ bruised confidence and his kicked ego didn’t throb quite as badly as a moment before.
Hank was wearing a miniscule white thong of such thin material that Thomas could see the slit of his cock through it. He also had on white leather chaps.
White leather, white thong— That was one of the reasons Hank always stood out in the club. Hank had never been seen wearing black. He wore white, all the time, even if it was only a pair of shorts or a tank top… or a jockstrap.
The color shouldn’t have worked so well with Hank’s pale skin, but it did. Thomas wondered if Hank had ever been outside without wearing sunscreen. In the dimly lit club, Hank seemed to glow in a way that no one else did.
Thomas’ cock began to harden as he imagined laying down stripes on Hank’s back and buttocks. He’d show marks so beautifully, especially if Thomas used a cane.
Hank stopped approximately three feet away, then slowly and gracefully lowered himself to his knees. He bowed his head, settling into the perfect posture that every sub should exhibit when offering him or herself to a dom. At least, that’s what Thomas wanted to see when a sub knelt for him.
Thomas waited, letting the silence draw out between them. The noise of the club ceased to matter. Thomas wasn’t hearing it. What was important in that moment was all the possibilities suddenly opening up for the night.
*Fans self* Well, well, you can bet they have an interesting and sexy evening!
Now, for the second story...
Excerpt from Power Series: Submit
Another night, another disappointment. Bo Olsteen didn’t know why he’d bothered checking in at the club. He hadn’t seen anyone he wanted to do more than talk with in months. Since moving to the town of Ravon, he hadn’t even gotten laid. Worse, he hadn’t had a scene, hadn’t been able to wield his whip or flogger or any of his beloved tools.
“The Hooded Monogamist rides again,” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Alone, of course. Are you ever going to take off that executioner’s hood?”
Bo turned and flipped off Quarry, one of the club owners. “Fuck off, Quar. You know why I wear it.”
Quar nodded. “Yup. The whole dom who loves leather thing, I do get it, but that doesn’t mean I won’t pick on you. You’ve been coming here for months now, Bo, and no matter what boy comes panting after you, you turn him down. Of course I’m going to give you shit about that.”
“I just haven’t seen anyone who has really caught my attention, although okay. Maybe I’m being too picky.” He could at least get laid, or, if it came down to making a choice, set up a nonsexual scene with someone, because he really needed the freedom BDSM gave him. It might have seemed like a contrary way to think, because all the power was truly in the sub’s hands when it came to BDSM, but that was just it. Bo could let himself go and know that the sub would lay out hard limits not to be crossed.
“The problem is, I don’t know what subs will really speak up if I’m too rough,” Bo admitted since Quar just kept staring at him. “I need to put someone over the bench and beat their ass, see someone submit, and be able to trust they’ll stop me—”
“Most of the subs here are good boys, as I’ve told you before, but since none of them appeal to you, maybe— Yeah. There ya go,” Quar said, interrupting Bo. He pushed at Bo’s shoulder, encouraging him to pivot slightly. “That guy. Wow, I haven’t seen him in a while. Didn’t know what happened to him. Anyway, that pretty blond over there? That’s Larry. Plain name, but he is tough as nails, and he doesn’t play around. By that, I mean—you know what? Go talk to him yourself.” Quar pushed at Bo. “Go on.”
Since the man Quar had pointed out seemed to be coiled as tight as any spring Bo had ever seen, Bo decided to approach him—Larry. Quar was right. That was a plain name for a man as attractive as Larry was.
Bo stopped a few feet in front of Larry, who was still walking down the side aisle of the club, greeting people who spoke to him.
This gave Bo more time to study Larry. Medium height, or average, perhaps, with blond hair that gleamed under the club lights. The hair was just past Larry’s shoulders. Larry’s body carried only a bit of bulk, like he worked out enough to stay in shape, but not enough to turn into a muscle-hound like Bo himself.
Larry’s wide mouth and full lips were intriguing, but it was his manner, the way he didn’t appear to be there at the moment, that puzzled Bo.
In fact, Larry didn’t notice Bo until he walked right into him.
“Umph.” Larry had turned his head just in time to smoosh it against Bo’s chest.
Rather than reach for Larry, Bo kept his hands at his sides. “Careless, sub.”
Larry jerked his head up, eyes blazing, mouth open in a way that looked like curse words were fixing to spew out of it.
Bo raised one hand, held up one finger. “I’d be very careful what you say here, boy.”
So, what do y'all think? :D