Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Looks Can Be Deceiving, Better Guess Again

I'm a huge fan of RuPaul's Drag Race. As an avid fan of Seasons 1 and 2, and the recently introduced RuPaul's DragU, I was so excited when Season 3 kicked off a couple weeks ago. I usually take a couple of weeks to pick my favorite, waiting to see how the queens fare in the first couple challenges. I already have a few favorites, but one stands out. Raja. She's fierce, tall and beautiful. I think she will go far in the competition, or I should say I hope she does.

I might be a little biased, however. As I have seen Raja before. She graces the super-hot cover of the awesome collection, Please Ma'am, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. In honor of that fact, I've put up an excerpt of my story from the collection, The Crack of the Bat. Powerful women are sexy, in all their ways, shapes and forms.

“I’m afraid under the circumstances, Mr. Brenner, I’m going to have to do something a little different with you.”
“Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen here, but . . .”
“Shut up.”

I sat back in my chair, unable to speak with her blue eyes ripping into me. She leaned forward, her knee slipping in between my thighs on the chair. Her hands pinned my wrists to the leather covered wood, her grip surprisingly strong. I strained but, fighting her didn’t seem to do much good.

“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch who needs to be taught a lesson. But, let’s face it. You’re also hot. Punishing you is going to be fun. It’s not going to be some easy way out for you, Mr. Brenner. I believe you said you’d do anything.”

She leaned into me further, her face so close to mine I could smell her perfume.
Her knee pushed against my crotch, my cock stirring against her stocking covered leg.

“Yes. I did.”

Another smile spread across her painted red lips. Her fingers squeezed my arms, just enough to hurt a little. She released my hands, but I didn’t move them. Her fingers slipped the knot of my tie loose, yanking the silk free from my collar.

“Get up.”

I pushed myself out of the chair, but before I could fully stand up, she pulled me forward, throwing me onto the mess covering her desk. She moved behind me, her feet kicking mine apart.

“Give me your hands. Now.”

I did it, for the first time in my life not minding being told what to do. I felt the soft fabric of my tie pulling my wrists together.

“You’re just a pampered little rich boy who needs to be taught a lesson. And, I think it’s high time I do that. I bet you’ll love it, too. Something different from your usual routine of bedding sluts.”

She grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling me up to standing. I cried out once into the silence, and then again when she bit my neck.

“God, I love that sound. Not such a big man now, are you Mr. Brenner?”

I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. But, I couldn’t ignore the hard-on in my pants. She pulled my hair harder, forcing my head back until I was staring at the ceiling.

“Answer me, damn it.”
“No. No, I’m not a big man now.”
“That’s better.”

She pushed me back down onto the desk, my chest flat against the wood. I felt her palm run over my ass, teasingly.

“Have you ever been spanked, Bryan?”
“No. Well, not for real.”

Another mocking laugh sprang from her throat. I felt her eyes running all over me, even though I couldn’t see her. Without warning, I felt the hard smack of her palm hit me solidly on my ass. I was surprised by the pain radiating from one single hit of her hand. I didn’t mean to moan, but I did. After the shock wore off, I felt the heat traveling up my spine. As I settled onto the desk, two more hard blows hit me, her hand striking at full force.

“God, you’ve got such a sweet ass. I’m sure you’ve heard that before, haven’t you?”
“For an ass like that, I think I’m going to need a little help.”

I picked my head up and watched as she went behind her desk, pulling open the bottom drawer. My eyes widened as she pulled out a wooden paddle, a smaller version of a cricket bat.

“Ms. Thomas, please. Don’t. I’m sure we can work something else out.”
“Did I tell you that you could speak?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word. But, you will soon enough. How many whacks to do you think it’s going to make you sorry? 5?”

I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through me, my knees a little weak as I waited. She let out another clipped laugh, clearly enjoying my plight.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

I didn’t answer her, my mouth desiccated by fear. Moving behind me, I felt her hands reach under and undo my belt. Her fingers brushed my hard cock, straining against my zipper.

“Well, you little devil. You’re more excited than I thought. I should have known you’d be into it.”

My pants were around my ankles, my ass completely exposed to her. I jumped when I felt her hand hit my hot skin, the soft touch stinging like fire.

“Now, Mr. Brenner. Are we going to have anymore trouble during this media campaign?”

Before I could answer her, the wooden paddle struck my ass hard. I damn near screamed as the pain shot through me, my whole body pushed forward by the blow. I barely recovered when another swat hit me square. God, she could’ve been a great hitter. My cock twitched in response, my body reacting without my head getting involved.

“I asked you a question, Mr. Brenner.”
“No. There won’t be anymore problems.”

I didn’t recognize my own voice, the pain cracking my usually deep timber. My sweaty palms rubbed together, the tie digging roughly into my wrists. I could hear her pacing behind me, her heels muffled by the carpet. My balls ached and my cock was desperate to be touched.

“Are you sure? Because we can’t have you peeing anywhere you feel like. And, don’t get me started on that window. I hope fucking that bimbo was worth it.”
“I’m sure. I’ll be good I swear.”

This time, the paddle struck twice quickly. Sweat was pouring off me, my screams getting lost in the sound of the smacks ringing off the walls. Suddenly, she stopped. We were both breathing heavy, for different reasons.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other. By the way Mr. Brenner, how many was that? I’m afraid I’ve lost count.”
“Four.” I could barely whisper, my voice saved for screaming.
“That leaves one more. Do you think you can handle it?”

My body was tense, but the pain was giving way to deep, throbbing waves of
pleasure. Nothing I had ever done before had felt this good and bad at the same time.
“Yes. I can handle it.”

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