Thursday, June 7, 2012

Countdown to Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 - Excerpt 3


Scheduled to release today! 


It was near dark when I showed up at Bane’s trailer, materializing in the living room.  A thrill of terror raced down my spine to see no sign of Fizz or the werewolf agent.  I quickly went down the hall, passing a bedroom filled with exercise equipment, and a utilitarian bathroom.  The last door, the one to Bane’s bedroom was closed, and light filtered out from beneath it.
I stepped into the master bedroom, spartanly furnished with a bed, dresser, and nightstand which had all been new in the 1980’s.  Pressboard chic, no less.  A laptop was the dresser’s lone accessory, the nightstand a little more lavish with an alarm clock and ring of keys.
Fizz’s baby doll tee and breath-inhibiting jeans were a pile on the tan-carpeted floor.  Fizz herself was laid out on the bed, clad in pink nylon bra and panties.  Bane stretched out next to her, propped up on one elbow.  Eye popping in bare-chested glory, the crotch of his jeans livid with erection, he trailed fingertips over Fizz’s bare midriff. 
“Wake up, Brandilynn,” he whispered, his golden eyes molten.  “Wake up, little girl.”
Resolutely ignoring the surge of heat I felt looking at the agent (and how delicious it would have been to open my eyes to see that looming over me), I parked my hands on my hips and spat, “I don’t think so, you mangy mutt.”
I wished I had a rolled-up newspaper to pop him on the nose with.  Some guys will accept a ‘no’ in the present, hoping it would change to ‘yes’ in a future setting if they kept pushing the issue.  Bane was apparently one of those.
I settled in to wait and watch.  It was only a few minutes later that Fizz’s eyelids fluttered open.  She blinked slowly a few times, taking in her surroundings and the hopeful shifter watching her carefully.  I had to laugh when she screeched in his face.
“What?  You!  Cop!”  She rolled over, a windmill of skinny arms and legs before she hit the floor running.
Bane lunged after her.  “Oh shit, Fizz, wait!”
She shrieked as his fingers slid across her back.  “Get off me!  I ain’t going down for you, Bane!  They ain’t killing me over you and that dead girl!”
She scrambled free of him and took off down the hall.  Still laughing, I transported into the living room, slipping into Fizz before she could get out the front door.  I turned to face Bane as he barreled after.  Not realizing Fizz’s body had stopped and now waited for him, his momentum carried him nicely into my swinging fist.  I got him square in the mouth, spreading his lips in a funhouse grin.  It didn’t drop him, but it did stop him cold in his tracks.
I could feel Fizz’s shock to find herself usurped again, followed by a surge of mean delight as a few drops of blood welled from Bane’s lower lip.  We were on the same page as far as putting the agent in his place, though for different reasons.
I folded skinny arms over a nearly flat chest.  “Now that I have your attention, what do you think you’re doing waiting for me to show up in your bed?”
 Bane stood over me in shock, rubbing his busted lip.  “Brandilynn?”
“No, dog breath, it’s Zsa Zsa Gabor.  I told you, I have a boyfriend!”  I yelled, uncaring if he had a spy outside or even hiding in his fridge.  Then I slapped him for good measure.
He growled, the sound slipping between lengthening canines.  I stepped close and growled back.
“What, are you going to try to scare me into sex?  Force me with threats?  Is that the kind of man you are?”
Bane’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, raising his hands in surrender.  “Okay, okay, I was just mad you slapped me.  I’ve got the hint.  Sorry.”  He had the grace to flush with embarrassment.
I tapped my bare foot on the nubby carpet.  “You’d really be sorry if I’d hit you in my old body.  It was a lot stronger than this one.”  I ramped up my anger, determined to make sure he would stop chasing me.  “And if you try anything else, the next hint will be a baseball bat upside your stupid head!” 
He scowled at me, his ears flattening to his skull.  “I said I was sorry.  I will never try to seduce you again.”
“You’d better not, jerk.”  I stormed past him, returning to the bedroom to yank Fizz’s horrible clothes on.  It seemed to take forever to struggle into those ridiculously tight jeans.
When I turned around, Bane was in the doorway, watching me.  He didn’t say anything untoward or make a move, but the bulge in his pants told me his interest in me hadn’t waned one bit.
Too bad.  With the memory of Tristan and Dan’s pained expressions as I’d taken punishment still fresh in my mind, I found it almost easy to dismiss the handsome were.  To distract him I asked, “When is Fizz due for work?”
Those golden eyes drank me in, and his rumbling voice trembled my bones.  “About forty-five minutes.  I’ll take you on my bike.”
Fizz’s stomach chose that moment to announce its emptiness.  And her head felt heavy with the continued effects of the drug.  “We’d better hit some fast food and coffee.  I’m feeling all sludgy and starved here.  Spot me five bucks on that?”  It wasn’t really a request.  In my opinion Bane owed me for his attempt to get me in yet another compromising position.
His slow smile, all the more devastating for its bad wolf image because of the swollen lip, made me uncomfortable.  “Sure.”
I pushed past him, trying not to notice the admiration in his voice and eyes.  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was more interested in me than ever.  For my part, I was determined to not get gooey over Bane again, no matter how darned good he looked shirtless and wearing that pirate’s grin.

Countdown to Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 - Excerpt 2


So here I was, kneeling on the wood floor of the library at their feet naked, my hands bound behind me and a ball gag shoved in my mouth.  I kept my head bowed down subserviently as I waited to find out what sentence Tristan had decided upon.  I prayed that whatever it was, it would be enough for Dan to feel we could start over.
I watched one of Dan’s loafered feet tap impatiently in front of me.  “I’m angry all right.  So what does that mean?  We don’t discipline her for misbehavior?”
“Think about it, Dan.  Can you trust yourself not to lose control right now?”
I heard real heat in Dan’s voice.  “It’s low to wave that in my face.”
He was referring to the desperate, panicked anger that had made him take the life of a crooked IRS agent who was looking to blackmail him.  Dan had died in prison while serving a life sentence.  The fear of losing everything; his wife, children, home, and business had driven him to do the unthinkable.  His uncharacteristic actions haunted him to this day.
Tristan’s tone stayed even.  “I’m not waving anything in your face.  It’s a valid concern.  If I laid my hands on her right now I’d not just hurt her, I’d damage our relationship.  I’m that angry.”
My heart was heavy to hear him say that.  Nothing hurts a sub worse than her Dom’s disappointment.  I really deserved whatever punishment he had decided on.  Not to mention I couldn’t seem to curb my fascination with Bane.  Maybe a good round of harsh discipline would cure that.
Dan sighed.  “Okay.  So what do we do with her then?”
“We leave it to others to punish her, those who can be subjective about it.”
I started.  He was going to have another Dom reprimand me?  I swallowed hard against the gag.  Someone with no emotional involvement could be a harsh taskmaster.  Maybe Tristan had a sadist in mind.  I turned cold.  Light pain was one thing, but I’m not really a masochist. 
Dan’s tone echoed my worried thoughts.  “Like who?”
“Grab on and come with me.” 
Tristan grasped my shoulder, and after a moment’s hesitation, so did Dan.  The pant legs and shoes before me smeared as we started our transport, and I closed my eyes, afraid of where Tristan would take me.
I heard rather than felt our arrival.  I smelled sweat, cologne, leather and sex.  The familiar sounds of club music, things hitting flesh, and eager moans and sighs popped my eyes wide open.  We were at a BDSM club.
Well, there were certainly worse places to end up.  Warm fuzzies tumbled in my belly to see a gleaming bar area tended by a bulldoggish man in black leather with Doms and Dommes lined up, sipping drinks and exchanging comfortable conversation.  Subs knelt at their feet, many wearing collars and little else.  Some were on leashes.  Still more people sat around tables.  Everyone had that ghostly sense of otherness, that insubstantiality that souls possess even though we appear solid to one another.
Dan’s voice was hushed with shock.  “Good night.”
I dared to peek up at him, and saw he stared at something behind me.  I cautiously turned my head to have a glance at what had caught his attention.
Ah, the play area.
My lower parts really heated up to see several scenes acted out under bright spotlights.  A naked sub was spread out on a St. Andrews Cross, her buttocks and thighs wearing the stripes of the expertly wielded whip flicked by a bare-chested Dom.  As I watched, the whip snapped her rear, and she moaned with trembling delight.  She strained to push her hips back, begging for more. 
Next to them, a male sub was strapped to what looked like a padded sawhorse.  His Domme, gorgeous in a rubber suit that looked like black liquid, paddled him thoroughly while pumping his cock in one tight fist.  Through his sobs I heard him say, “Please Mistress, may I come?” over and over.  She said nothing, just continued to punish and delight as he wept, tears rolling down his strained face.
Further over, ropes knotted in what looked like a giant spider’s web snared a plus-sized blond beauty.  Her thighs were twined in the web wide open, leaving her vulnerable to the vibrator her tall, thin Dom pressed to her swollen clit.  She couldn’t beg for release for the ball gag stuffed in her mouth, but her shrieks of agony were plain to hear as the Dom, wearing a cape and leather pants, removed the humming instrument as soon as she neared climax.
I would have loved to be any of those subs right now, especially since I knew whatever I was about to endure wouldn’t be nearly as enthralling.
It was no surprise to me that a BDSM club existed on the ghost plain.  There was probably a solid version right here on this spot, existing in the mundane reality and entertaining the living version of the kinky underworld.  The kind of emotion that comes from BDSM play is extreme in that so much of the artifice we display to others is stripped away in these places.  Playing out scenes exposes us, subs and Doms alike, in ways that can bring euphoria and agony of an emotional sort, far stronger than what we experience physically. 
A solid wall of man approached us, and I dropped my eyes instantly after catching a glimpse of wiry black hair peppered with gray surrounding a craggy dark face with piercing eyes.  This man exuded power, the kind of Dom subs dream of serving and other Doms aspire to be like.  I prayed he wouldn’t be in charge of my punishment.  The thought made me tremble.
His voice was strong enough to have weight.  “Tristan!  I haven’t seen you in forever.  How are things out your way?”
I sensed them shaking hands.  “It’s been better, Miguel, but I’m glad to see you.  How have you been?”
“Wonderful, wonderful.  And your friend?”
“Dan Saling.”  More hand shaking.  “He’s new to the scene, but learning quickly.”
“Good to meet you, Miguel.”
“And you, Dan.  Is training what brings you to Atlanta?”
Tristan sighed.  “I wish.  This sub needs punishment, and we’re too emotionally involved to carry it out.  You always get such good results.  Do you have the time?”
I squeezed my eyes shut.  I was in so much trouble.  All the arousal I’d gotten from watching others play was gone.
“I always have time to correct a disobedient sub.  What’s her weakness?  I have a lovely cane I wouldn’t mind using on such a soft, perfect butt.”
“That would be a reward.  She’s a bit of a pain slut.  What she hates is humiliation.”
Oh please no.  I moaned.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Countdown to Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 - Excerpt 1

Friday is the day!  Brandilynn, Dan, and Tristan are back with another paranormal adventure.  And we can't forget the introduction of hunky werewolf Bane, the undercover agent who has infiltrated the Beasts motorcycle gang:


            Bottle was still running her mouth when Bane walked in with three other Beast members, calling out gruff hellos as they entered.  The way C.K. scowled let me know big trouble was up.
            I acted fast, barely thinking about what I was doing.  I was at Fizz’s side in an instant.  I shoved my way into her, taking over her body.
            This was way different from channeling in Isabella’s body.  The channel opens herself, allowing me to sink effortlessly into her head.  In her trance, she’s not really aware of my presence.
            This was more like a rape, something I wasn’t proud to do to Fizz.  It’s also considered a huge no-no in the para world, the epitome of bad behavior.  This was an emergency though, so I bullied my way in, seizing control from the stripper, making her body mine.  Inside her head, I felt her shrink away from my alien intelligence in fear and confusion.  She didn’t put up a fight, and I was able to make her body awkwardly rise and hurry to Bane’s side.  She was lighter and much easier to move in than the cuddly bulk of Isabella, but I still felt like I slogged along in mud.  Physical bodies are heavy.   Not to mention her jeans were too freakin’ tight.  I felt like my legs had been straitjacketed.
            At least there was no difference between her reality and the spirit world.  Not having to look at two different scenes helped.
Bane stood alone, his companions having gone straight to the bar.  He looked at me as I joined him with a kind of resigned irritation.  “Not now, Fizz.”  He started to walk away.
I grabbed him by the back of his neck and yanked him close to whisper close to his face.  He was too tall to talk into his pointed wolf ear, which was situated higher on his head than a human’s.  
I kept my voice super low, hoping his animal-sensitive hearing would pick up the barely breathed words.  “Shut up and listen to me.  I’m not Fizz; I’m a ghost who has taken over her body.  You’re in big trouble right now, Double-Oh-Seven.”
Bane stared down at me, his golden eyes going wide.  His gaze darted around the room, and then he grabbed Fizz’s upper arm to haul our shared body to a quiet cobwebbed corner.  I winced at the tight grip but made no complaint.  I’d already behaved in a very non-property way in grabbing the werewolf.  I didn’t dare look around to see if anyone had noticed Fizz becoming assertive. 
Once he had me backed into the corner, Bane growled low and threatening.  “Fizz isn’t smart enough to come up with shit like this.  Who the hell are you?”
Sure no one would pickup our whispered conversation, I took advantage of it to warn him.  “Watch the language, buster.  I’m a lady.  Fizz is upset because you won’t give her a ride on Magic Mountain, and now C.K. thinks you’re gay.  Apparently, that’s a big deal in Stupid Land here.”
Bane scowled.  “A very big deal.”
From his chair, C.K. roared, “Bane, front and center!”
The werewolf agent’s lips wrinkled back for an instant, displaying very wicked looking teeth.  “Stay put right here.  I want to talk to you after I settle this.”
Well, so much for good manners.  “You’re welcome,” I reminded him. 
Not picking up the hint, Bane walked away without thanking me.  After a moment, I followed.  I wasn’t property after all.  That was Fizz’s gig.  Besides, I thought I might be of help if I stuck close.
My borrowed heart picked up speed as Levi presented himself to the gang’s leader.
“How’s it going, boss?” Bane asked mildly as he drew close to C.K. 
Everyone had halted whatever they were doing and crowded close to see what had their little piggy of a boss grouchy.  And grouchy he was with his forehead furrowed, eyes narrowed, and fists clenched.  Next to him, Bottle kneeled with a smirk on her face.
No, she’d used up all my sympathy where I was concerned.  If I was a cursing girl, I’d have a few choice names I’d call her.
“It’s not so good, Bane.  I hear you’re not happy with Fizz.”  C.K.’s muddy eyes cut to the body I currently occupied.  I felt Fizz shrivel at his angry stare.  I kept her expression as blank as I could.  I swear she tried to hide behind my consciousness.
Well, that’s what you get for whining and getting others in trouble.  Though she couldn’t hear the words, I thought she might pick up my mood. 
Bane was shrugging.  “She’s okay.  A little lacking upstairs.” 
C.K. snorted.  “Yeah, in both boobs and brains.  That ain’t her fault, and pussy is pussy, Bane.”
“I’ve been busy.  You know I’m happy getting stuff done for the Beasts.”  The agent sounded respectful without being a whining butt kisser.  I was impressed.
C.K. shook his head.  “You’ve been an ace enforcer, man.  But we don’t tolerate queers.”
Bane affected righteous indignation, letting a little anger peek through.  “I ain’t queer.  I fucked my first pussy at the age of ten and been fucking it ever since.”
Ew.  This conversation got more disgusting by the second.
C.K. grinned.  Or maybe it was a snarl.  With that face, it was hard to tell.  “Well, show us, big man.  Plow some pussy right now.”  He gestured at me.
Bane turned to grab my arm.  “You’re the boss.  Let’s go, Fizz.”
C.K.’s grin/snarl grew.  “No, brother.  Lay the bitch right here.”  He slapped the table in front of him with enough force that it sounded like a shotgun blast.  I jumped.
Bane’s cool façade slipped for an instant.  “In front of everyone?”
The Beasts’ leader’s voice was as cold as chipped ice.  “Fuck her, Bane.  I want to know if you’re a man or not.”
Bane’s eyes met mine.  In them, I read panic.  Oh man, this guy’s morals were getting him in deeper and deeper trouble and taking me with him.
            I had a very bad feeling about what this bunch of homophobic creeps might do to Bane if he didn’t perform the deed.  I could come up with only one solution.  Well, it wasn’t my body, and I found the werewolf attractive.  What was the harm?
            Decision made, I moved close to Bane.  “Come on, big man.  Show me what you got.”  I gave him a steady look to let him know it was okay.  “I can take it.”
Thank goodness Fizz had been wearing stilettos, because she was short and Bane was tall.  I was able to press lips with him.
His mouth was tentative on mine, obviously still very unsure about what was going to happen.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and hauled him as close as we could get.  My tongue pushed between his lips to run across those sharp wolf’s teeth.  Hmm.  Half-man, half-beast.  This was actually kind of hot.  I’ve always enjoyed taboo pleasures best.  And hey, if Fizz didn’t mind the threat of picking up Zoo Flu, then why not go for it?

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday – The Font


Coming June 29

The friction of his flesh plying hers incited not just that heavy feeling of growing brightness, but also small, quick darts of pure stomach-twisting delight.  Her hips were moving against his now, forcing him in deeper, as deep as he could plunge.  She made little sounds of breathless encouragement as his glamour faded and she could vocalize again.
Naya didn’t call for help.  She knew she was being stupid.  This vampire had forced himself on her, had drank of her blood, was even now still licking the wounds he’d made with the slow satisfaction of a cat tasting a few drops of cream. 

Friday, June 1, 2012

First Five Friday – Alien Slave (Clans of Kalquor 5)



Chapter 3

            Afternoon overtook morning in the city of Ler before Dani awoke the next day.  A lovely cool breeze wafted into her room through the open window, along with the scents of food and the shouts of the open-air vendors.  The whir of shuttle traffic and music from buskers of varying talents created the constant hum of activity Dani had grown used to hearing outside her room.  She fingered the collar around her neck with its tracking device.  Every slave wore one, preventing escape from their respective brothels.   

Available from Amazon Kindle, Nook, Smashwords, and NCP