Strict Susan
11-10-2009, 12:45 AM
"Two for Torture" (http://www.a1adultebooks.com/site.php?id=SusanS&pr=1977&in=80) is a little off my usual writing - a novel jointly written by myself and by John Savage from two very different viewpoints.
Here's the "blurb" written by John Savage, followed by an extract:
"This unique novel is an unusual collaboration of the talents of two well-known authors of erotic literature. Susan Strict, noted for her Femdom books and sharp wit, has combined with John Savage, who has produced over twenty-five BDSM novels over the years and who is known as the “Bondagemaster,” for his photographic work, to create a book that combines both Femdom and Maledom action into a single, tightly plotted action novel sure to appeal to everyone.
A wealthy businessman, Malcolm Foxworthy, has kidnapped both the only daughter and only son of business rival Harold Carter. His plan is simple: he wants to hurt Harold Carter very, very much. So, he arranges to have his daughter treated most cruelly and a video of her suffering to be sent to the man. At the same time, on Malcolm Foxworthy’s orders, a wonderfully evil band of women under the leadership of a man-hating, hard-nosed bitch named Brigitte has captured Carter’s son Simon and is doing most unpleasant things to him. Those videos are also being sent to Mr. Carter so he can share in the suffering.
This is one book you won’t want to miss!"
Extract:
“Don’t even think about it,” Brigitte said warningly.
“I wasn’t…” Simon Carter looked up at her in panic. It was, he had just discovered while she had been in the bathroom, quite impossible to free himself from the wrist restraints.
“You were trying to escape,” she told him accusingly.
“I wasn’t,” he repeated, knowing perfectly well that it was pointless to deny it when that was exactly what she saw him trying to do.
“You’ll have to be punished,” she said.
The words sounded ridiculous, like something said by one of those dominatrixes some men would pay to visit. Was that the right word? Simon wondered. “Dominatrixes”? It was something like that. He had often wondered what it might be like to play those sorts of games. The problem now was that this was for real.
Or was it?
“Look,” he tried to sound firm, “This is all a bit silly. It was fun when it started, and you were very frightening and realistic. I like you very much. Could you please let me go now. I’m hungry. I’ll take you to dinner. All right?”
It was not entirely the truth. The whip she had wielded earlier had hurt. There were red welts across the front of his thighs and across his chest, and when she had put the gag into his mouth to stifle the noise he was making, he was terrified. Even so, it had to be her idea of a game. Perhaps she had some weird idea that all men liked this sort of thing.
She was smiling at him. That was a good start. The moment she loosened the wrist straps holding him to the bed, he would grab his clothes and be out of that room as fast as his legs would carry him.
“I told you,” she informed him, the amused smile still on her face, “We’ll be waiting for my team to arrive.”
“What team?” he demanded. “What are you talking about? You’re mad. Let me go right now.”
He pulled at the straps holding his wrists, in a determined effort to break free. Brigitte stood back and watched him until he gave up, exhausted and out of breath.
“It’s never a good idea,” Brigitte pointed out, “To call a woman ‘mad’ when you’re tied to the bed naked and she has a whip in her hand.”
He glared at her.
“It’s even less of a good idea,” she continued, “When she has already demonstrated that she loves hurting you.” She raised the whip.
“Don’t!”
She paused. “Why?” she asked.
“Just… Just stop a minute.” He cringed, expecting the whip to hit him again. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you,” she said. “I’m simply amusing myself while we wait for the rest of my team to turn up.”
He shook his head. “What do you mean, ‘your team’? You’re not making any sense. This is crazy. Who are you?”
She sighed, lowered the whip and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “You’re not very bright,” she told him. “As I told you, I’m Brigitte Mitchell. We have mutual friends in LA, and those friends wanted me to come and see you.”
“Who?” he demanded. “And what has ‘coming to see me’ got to do with tying me to the bed and whipping me? And who is this ‘team’ you keep talking about?”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door of the hotel room. Brigitte turned and listened. Simon was tempted to call for help, but something stopped him. If anyone had asked him, he would not have been able to tell them why he did not shout as loudly as he could that a madwoman was holding him prisoner in that room. It was not that it would have been highly embarrassing to be found naked and tied to the bed. It was not that Brigitte would quite probably have struck him considerably harder with the whip and any other instrument of torment she happened to have with her. It was something else. Something that, for Simon, was indefinable right at that moment.
“Are you there, Brigitte?”
There was a look of relief on Brigitte’s face. She strode to the door and opened it, without even bothering to put on her clothes.
Six women came in. Six. There was hardly enough space for all of them in the room. Not one of them seemed surprised at Brigitte’s nakedness, nor at the naked man tied to the bed.
“I told you I could get him,” Brigitte said proudly. “It wasn’t difficult.”
“We still have to take him to…”
“Quiet, Maggie!” Brigitte interrupted. “He doesn’t know yet. And he’s not bright enough to work it out.”
Maggie shrugged. “It doesn’t make much difference, does it? He’ll know soon enough. Anyway, there’s not much he can do about it, by the look of him. I see you’ve been enjoying yourself.”
Simon flinched as Maggie reached down and ran her fingernail down one of the long, red welts on his right thigh.
“You haven’t worked out how we’re going to get him up there?” Maggie continued, tweaking his cock and making him yelp in surprise as much as in discomfort.
Brigitte shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting you so early,” she pointed out. “I said midnight. It can’t be seven yet.”
Maggie looked at her watch. “Half past eight,” she declared, and then added a little sarcastically, “It’s amazing how time flies when you’re enjoying yourself.”
While Maggie and Brigitte were talking, the others had crowded round the bed and were looking down at Simon.
“You haven’t tied his ankles,” a tall, red-haired girl said critically. “I always tie their ankles to the lower corners of the bed. It makes them so much more vulnerable and defenseless.”
One of the others nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “He can probably free himself if he has long enough alone. It wouldn’t take much for him to get his teeth to those straps on his wrists. If you tied his ankles too, then he’d never manage it.”
She was clearly going to continue, but Brigitte broke off her conversation with Maggie. “I hope you’re not criticizing me?” she said, with a look that could have left no doubt in anyone’s mind that criticizing her would be somewhat dangerous. Simon noted that the girl who had mentioned tying ankles actually stepped back away from Brigitte.
“I’m sorry,” she said, clearly flustered, “I only meant…”
“Well, don’t. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps I’ll have you tied to the bed and see how easily you can get away while I whip you.”
“This isn’t getting us closer to what we need to do with him,” Maggie insisted. “The boss won’t be too pleased if he’s not where he’s supposed to be by tomorrow morning.”
“I do have some ideas,” said Brigitte. “There’s no hurry. I’ve worked it out. I just need to resolve a few minor issues.”
“What the hell is going on here?” demanded Simon.
“Shut up!” several of the girls told him simultaneously. He shut up.
At Maggie’s suggestion, Brigitte dressed and the two of them left the room to go down to the hotel lounge and discuss the details of what they needed to do over a drink. The other girls were left in the room with Simon.
“Can we…?” asked the red-haired girl as Brigitte was leaving.
“Whatever you want,” said Brigitte, with a slightly wistful glance in Simon’s direction. “Just don’t damage him. The boss won’t want him damaged. Not yet.”
“Excellent,” declared the girl. To Simon’s surprised, she leapt onto the bed and sat astride his chest. He saw immediately that she wore nothing under her short skirt.
While the other four girls looked on, she straddled his face. “Lick,” she demanded. “And make it good. When I’ve finished with you, the others can have you. Don’t even think about using your teeth. One wrong move from you, my lad, and I promise you that whatever Brigitte said about not damaging you, you won’t have any balls left by the time she comes back. Got it?”
Simon got it. He licked.
http://www.strictsusan.com/publish/twofortorture300.jpg (http://www.a1adultebooks.com/site.php?id=SusanS&pr=1977&in=80)
Here's the "blurb" written by John Savage, followed by an extract:
"This unique novel is an unusual collaboration of the talents of two well-known authors of erotic literature. Susan Strict, noted for her Femdom books and sharp wit, has combined with John Savage, who has produced over twenty-five BDSM novels over the years and who is known as the “Bondagemaster,” for his photographic work, to create a book that combines both Femdom and Maledom action into a single, tightly plotted action novel sure to appeal to everyone.
A wealthy businessman, Malcolm Foxworthy, has kidnapped both the only daughter and only son of business rival Harold Carter. His plan is simple: he wants to hurt Harold Carter very, very much. So, he arranges to have his daughter treated most cruelly and a video of her suffering to be sent to the man. At the same time, on Malcolm Foxworthy’s orders, a wonderfully evil band of women under the leadership of a man-hating, hard-nosed bitch named Brigitte has captured Carter’s son Simon and is doing most unpleasant things to him. Those videos are also being sent to Mr. Carter so he can share in the suffering.
This is one book you won’t want to miss!"
Extract:
“Don’t even think about it,” Brigitte said warningly.
“I wasn’t…” Simon Carter looked up at her in panic. It was, he had just discovered while she had been in the bathroom, quite impossible to free himself from the wrist restraints.
“You were trying to escape,” she told him accusingly.
“I wasn’t,” he repeated, knowing perfectly well that it was pointless to deny it when that was exactly what she saw him trying to do.
“You’ll have to be punished,” she said.
The words sounded ridiculous, like something said by one of those dominatrixes some men would pay to visit. Was that the right word? Simon wondered. “Dominatrixes”? It was something like that. He had often wondered what it might be like to play those sorts of games. The problem now was that this was for real.
Or was it?
“Look,” he tried to sound firm, “This is all a bit silly. It was fun when it started, and you were very frightening and realistic. I like you very much. Could you please let me go now. I’m hungry. I’ll take you to dinner. All right?”
It was not entirely the truth. The whip she had wielded earlier had hurt. There were red welts across the front of his thighs and across his chest, and when she had put the gag into his mouth to stifle the noise he was making, he was terrified. Even so, it had to be her idea of a game. Perhaps she had some weird idea that all men liked this sort of thing.
She was smiling at him. That was a good start. The moment she loosened the wrist straps holding him to the bed, he would grab his clothes and be out of that room as fast as his legs would carry him.
“I told you,” she informed him, the amused smile still on her face, “We’ll be waiting for my team to arrive.”
“What team?” he demanded. “What are you talking about? You’re mad. Let me go right now.”
He pulled at the straps holding his wrists, in a determined effort to break free. Brigitte stood back and watched him until he gave up, exhausted and out of breath.
“It’s never a good idea,” Brigitte pointed out, “To call a woman ‘mad’ when you’re tied to the bed naked and she has a whip in her hand.”
He glared at her.
“It’s even less of a good idea,” she continued, “When she has already demonstrated that she loves hurting you.” She raised the whip.
“Don’t!”
She paused. “Why?” she asked.
“Just… Just stop a minute.” He cringed, expecting the whip to hit him again. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you,” she said. “I’m simply amusing myself while we wait for the rest of my team to turn up.”
He shook his head. “What do you mean, ‘your team’? You’re not making any sense. This is crazy. Who are you?”
She sighed, lowered the whip and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “You’re not very bright,” she told him. “As I told you, I’m Brigitte Mitchell. We have mutual friends in LA, and those friends wanted me to come and see you.”
“Who?” he demanded. “And what has ‘coming to see me’ got to do with tying me to the bed and whipping me? And who is this ‘team’ you keep talking about?”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door of the hotel room. Brigitte turned and listened. Simon was tempted to call for help, but something stopped him. If anyone had asked him, he would not have been able to tell them why he did not shout as loudly as he could that a madwoman was holding him prisoner in that room. It was not that it would have been highly embarrassing to be found naked and tied to the bed. It was not that Brigitte would quite probably have struck him considerably harder with the whip and any other instrument of torment she happened to have with her. It was something else. Something that, for Simon, was indefinable right at that moment.
“Are you there, Brigitte?”
There was a look of relief on Brigitte’s face. She strode to the door and opened it, without even bothering to put on her clothes.
Six women came in. Six. There was hardly enough space for all of them in the room. Not one of them seemed surprised at Brigitte’s nakedness, nor at the naked man tied to the bed.
“I told you I could get him,” Brigitte said proudly. “It wasn’t difficult.”
“We still have to take him to…”
“Quiet, Maggie!” Brigitte interrupted. “He doesn’t know yet. And he’s not bright enough to work it out.”
Maggie shrugged. “It doesn’t make much difference, does it? He’ll know soon enough. Anyway, there’s not much he can do about it, by the look of him. I see you’ve been enjoying yourself.”
Simon flinched as Maggie reached down and ran her fingernail down one of the long, red welts on his right thigh.
“You haven’t worked out how we’re going to get him up there?” Maggie continued, tweaking his cock and making him yelp in surprise as much as in discomfort.
Brigitte shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting you so early,” she pointed out. “I said midnight. It can’t be seven yet.”
Maggie looked at her watch. “Half past eight,” she declared, and then added a little sarcastically, “It’s amazing how time flies when you’re enjoying yourself.”
While Maggie and Brigitte were talking, the others had crowded round the bed and were looking down at Simon.
“You haven’t tied his ankles,” a tall, red-haired girl said critically. “I always tie their ankles to the lower corners of the bed. It makes them so much more vulnerable and defenseless.”
One of the others nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “He can probably free himself if he has long enough alone. It wouldn’t take much for him to get his teeth to those straps on his wrists. If you tied his ankles too, then he’d never manage it.”
She was clearly going to continue, but Brigitte broke off her conversation with Maggie. “I hope you’re not criticizing me?” she said, with a look that could have left no doubt in anyone’s mind that criticizing her would be somewhat dangerous. Simon noted that the girl who had mentioned tying ankles actually stepped back away from Brigitte.
“I’m sorry,” she said, clearly flustered, “I only meant…”
“Well, don’t. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps I’ll have you tied to the bed and see how easily you can get away while I whip you.”
“This isn’t getting us closer to what we need to do with him,” Maggie insisted. “The boss won’t be too pleased if he’s not where he’s supposed to be by tomorrow morning.”
“I do have some ideas,” said Brigitte. “There’s no hurry. I’ve worked it out. I just need to resolve a few minor issues.”
“What the hell is going on here?” demanded Simon.
“Shut up!” several of the girls told him simultaneously. He shut up.
At Maggie’s suggestion, Brigitte dressed and the two of them left the room to go down to the hotel lounge and discuss the details of what they needed to do over a drink. The other girls were left in the room with Simon.
“Can we…?” asked the red-haired girl as Brigitte was leaving.
“Whatever you want,” said Brigitte, with a slightly wistful glance in Simon’s direction. “Just don’t damage him. The boss won’t want him damaged. Not yet.”
“Excellent,” declared the girl. To Simon’s surprised, she leapt onto the bed and sat astride his chest. He saw immediately that she wore nothing under her short skirt.
While the other four girls looked on, she straddled his face. “Lick,” she demanded. “And make it good. When I’ve finished with you, the others can have you. Don’t even think about using your teeth. One wrong move from you, my lad, and I promise you that whatever Brigitte said about not damaging you, you won’t have any balls left by the time she comes back. Got it?”
Simon got it. He licked.
http://www.strictsusan.com/publish/twofortorture300.jpg (http://www.a1adultebooks.com/site.php?id=SusanS&pr=1977&in=80)