Shades of Pain, M/M/M BDSM, blurb:
Changed from a street hustler by nano enhancement, Chanze becomes the first in a long line of super, man whores with Rent-A-Boy, a high-class escort agency set in the basement of a Manhattan hotel. With an insatiable sex drive, an erection that lasts all night, and a Doomsday chip in the base of his brain, life is peachy.
Chanze finds he enjoys being a sub and soon becomes addicted to pain but his heart grows colder with each client until a firefighter stumbles into his life. The exciting and sexy, Delano, devises a plan to free the sex slaves and destroy Rent-a-Boy.
Wow Heather! That blurb makes me want to run right out and buy this book, which I might just do after I ask you a few questions.
Tell us which scene in Shades of Pain you enjoyed the most and why?
I enjoyed writing the BDSM scenes especially the one with Delano and Chanze but really I love all the BDSM scenes.
Why write Sci Fi?
I usually write my stories around sci-fi worlds but this one is different. The characters are nano enhanced alphas trapped into prostitution but the setting is downtown Manhattan and the time is now.
I personally love to read and write M/M, why do you enjoy it so much?
That’s a hard question. I find M/M sex incredibly erotic, I mean watching Adam Lambert kiss Tommy Joe on stage was enough to trigger an entire story.
How long did this story take you to write?
About three months.
Tell me who your favourite character is and why?
There are three alpha male main characters in this story, each taking turns in the lead role. Chanze is a man you want to hug to make his life better, Adryck is distant and a little scary and Rhys is strong and dependable. So, all three have a place in my heart.
Tell me one thing that you know about writing now that you wish you’d know back when you started.
Two things really; that a very thick skin is important and rejections don’t matter, so don’t worry about them.
Would you share an excerpt with us and tell us how to find you and this HOT new M/M/M BDSM book?
Shades of Pain
Chanze swayed. No longer able to force a word from his abused mouth, he groaned. The whip cut deep into the flesh of his thighs inflaming damaged nerve endings and pushing his orgasm to overload. His ass quivered. He had begged for the thrust of his Master’s cock but the sting of leather had answered his pleas. The need for a man to pound his pleasure spot had become an obsession in the last hour. The four Doms moved around him each taking turns with the whip, each demanding his complete surrender. He had given them all he had. Now, he wanted them to fuck him. As a biologically engineered human, he had the ability to spill ten times in two hours and these men knew it. Most clients wanted to watch him come. Not these people. Precum pooled beneath his aching purple shaft in a shimmer of opalescence. He dropped his head to the cold stone floor and pushed his buttocks high in the air. His knees trembled. Please, fuck me now, please.
“Open your ass and show your Masters how tight you are, like a virgin ready to be sacrificed to four devils.” The masked Dom crushed Chanze’s fingertips under his shit kicker. “How long does it take your hole to become tight again after a good fucking, boy?”
“I don’t think he can answer you. Look at him, my cum is crystallizing on his lips. I’ll offer him some water. I want to hear him beg some more.” A grey haired man with a fat gut squatted beside Chanze. “Drink.” He pushed the opening of a plastic cup to Chanze’s mouth.
Chanze gulped down the water. The cool liquid spilled from his swollen lips and ran down his chin. The Doms liked their blowjobs rough and he’d taken each one of them with relish. He lifted his gaze. “It’s always tight, sir.”
“Good.” The first man trailed the tip of the whip over Chanze’s back. “Spread those cheeks.”
Please, please, fuck me now. His heart pounded and desire curled around his balls. He assumed the correct position and spread his buttocks. One masked Dom stood over his head with one steel-capped boot either side of his shoulders. Chanze dragged in a breath. The cool tip of the whip slid between the cleft of his bottom and flicked his balls before sliding up, and down in a tormenting glide over his hole.
“Look how his ass begs to be fucked.” A cushion dropped on the floor between his legs. “How about a tongue fuck, boy?”
Chanze trembled waiting for the joy to come. Instead, the smell of candle wax filled the air and heat scorched his flesh. He shuddered. Flames of desire scored a path up his cock and he rocketed into a mind-blowing orgasm. He moaned. Ribbons of cum shot in long spurts over his belly and dripped onto the floor in a pearly white pool. More wax dripped down his ass in a sizzle of burned skin. His cock jerked. The delicious pain had increased the erotic sensations shimmering up his shaft, tenfold. Boneless, he collapsed onto the floor. I’m in deep shit now. He had forgotten to ask permission to spill. Oh, fuck!
The Doms circled around him laughing. One bent his mouth close to his ear. The scent of whiskey filled Chanze’s nostrils. “Now you’re ready to be fucked. Have you ever had a DP, boy?—No? Well, isn’t this your lucky day?”
* * * *
The fragrance of expensive French soap diluted the distinctive scent of male musk from long hours of sex. Exhausted, with every inch of his flesh screaming in protest, Chanze dropped his head and relaxed. Hot water poured over him. He bit off a moan. Pain sizzled from open wounds. Oh yeah, his clients had done a number on him. Deep welts ran the length of his back and thighs. He pushed a finger inside his hole to increase the delicious throb from the pounding—shit, he was some sick fuck. He smiled at the memory of submitting to the vicious bastards and begging for more. Fucking A. He’d loved every second. He’d worn the collar of an edge player long before he’d become a rent boy, not that he’d let that bit of information slip to the boss man.
He allowed his mind to drift back over his last conversation with Doc. His boss hated his attitude with a passion and he’d given the asshole the ammunition to get even. So he’d complained—fuck, he wasn’t the only rent-an-ass to voice an opinion. Everyone deserved time off didn’t they?—His punishment had been metered out with a thin smile and an appointment with a group of senior sadists. Oh yeah, Doc understood his reluctance to submit to old men and the asshole had served up four of them in a two hour session. Old and wickedly inventive, the group of Doms, all in a constant state of arousal due to the blue pills they popped in abandon, had metered out a beating with a precision that would have killed most subs. Chanze had dissolved inside the pleasure pain and flown to his usual place of compliance. In fact, the moment the lash had cut deep into his skin the age of his Doms hadn’t mattered. His body hummed from the incredible disembodiment of sensation and being alive. After the initial scene, the Doms had found their own pleasure and he had come so many times, his balls had screamed with pain.
Chanze sighed and rubbed the clients’ rancid flavor off his mouth. In a short time, the nanos in his bloodstream would repair the damage but his boss needed the toe of one of his shit kickers aimed straight at the balls. He hated the smell of old guys, they always wore the same stale cologne and had so much body hair it got stuck in his teeth. Soapsuds tinged with blood swirled around his feet. He grimaced. Why the fuck had, he agreed to sign on with a pimp in the first place. Well, Doc wasn’t exactly a pimp. Initiation into the Fury had changed more than his body; it had taken away his freedom.
It was the twenty-first century for Christ’s sake how the hell had he ended up a sex slave in Manhattan? Anger welled and he pushed down the urge to punch the tiles. He chewed on his bottom lip and considered his position. I’m a prisoner here so I’d better behave like a good little boy. He rolled his shoulders and pushed back a wad of soaked hair. Setting his face in an impassive mask, he stepped from the shower to join the line of dripping sculpted bodies entering the hot air dryer. The men before him remained silent. Doc ruled the joint, and there was a “no conversation or sex” rule between members of the Fury.
He joined Adryck in the dryer. His friend’s lips turned up at the corners in a small gesture of recognition. Man, how the skinny kid had changed. Adryck was a blond Adonis, six-five of come fuck me sexy. He’d met Adryck three years ago hustling in an alley behind a bar —his alley—and had beaten the crap out of him. Someone had called the cops and they’d both ended up at the free clinic. The deal Doc had proposed looked sweet, cash, a place to live, all the food a man could eat, and a new body that never got old or sick.
At the time, Chanze, had the wild idea Doc was a vampire—now he wished he had been. All Doc had asked for in return was an agreement to service a few of his clients— and his signature on a ten-year contract. The man owned a gay prostitution establishment hidden below Cloisters, an exclusive men’s club. The man’s promise of a new life with no more back alleys or the risk of some asshole getting nasty with a knife was too good to refuse. Any rent boy would have jumped at the chance. As a hungry twenty-one year old, he had ignored the voice of doom in his head, and signed his life away. That night he and Adryck had become a member of the Fury.