I love the first Quick & Dirty BDSM series so much, I can’t help but start another. This one is a bit of a departure for those of you familiar with my usual kink writing. The main character (Goddess Victoria) is, as you might guess, dominantly-inclined. Well, at least she is in her public life. Behind closed doors, she’s discovered that (like your friendly neighborhood smut writer) she has a switch side.
Beside kink orientation, I decided to try something different in tone, as well. Normally, I write in a darker style more suited to pulp or film noir. So, I’ve brought a touch of that edge to this series. Of course, Vic and Smitty are as warm and romantic as you’d expect in erotic romance, but they’ll find themselves in gritty situations with nefarious characters throughout the stories. I hope y’all dig the direction as much as I do.
The first part of the series, Low-Down, picks up in mid-story for Vic. The plot is, oddly enough, loosely inspired by the movie High Plains Drifter. I’ve always wondered what a town like that might really be like, where a bully could do as he pleased while the townspeople looked the other way. Victoria, a former porn star and owner of a chain of posh sexual self-help retreats (The Church of FUCK), has entangled herself in the troubles of a dying desert town.
————————- full description —————————-
Nothing thrives in Red Bird but dirty secrets. Because only one thing is more unforgiving than the desert: a small town.
For Goddess Victoria, dubbed The Queen of Casual Sex by press and paparazzi drooling for any excuse of a story about her successful chain of sexual self-help retreats, moving her Church of Finding Unity in Carnal Knowledge to the sleepy desert town promises escape from the constant glare of media attention. Instead, the world’s most famous Domme finds something she never expected, a man who makes her want to submit. If the tabloid press–not to mention her roster of devoted A-list slaves–discover Smitty owns her, body and soul, the fallout could destroy everything she’s achieved.
Smitty’s pool hall, like everything else in Red Bird but Vic’s Church of F. U. C. K., has teetered on the brink of ruin since the rodeo shuttered. His last saving grace is the hard-drinking roughnecks from the nearby drilling outpost. But, if the “boys” find out he spends every moment he can bowing at his Goddess’s boots, worshipping her dainty feet, and begging for the rapturous blessing of her strap-on buried deep inside him, his register would be as barren as the dead land that closes them off from the outside world.
When the local bully, Red Hendricks, and his boys attack, and Vic must fight back, her secret affair with Smitty embroils her in a dangerous game of violence and power. Red has a secret, too, but he’d rather face the business end of Vic’s knife than admit his forbidden desires, even to himself. So, he demands monthly private parties with Vic and her priestesses, and her only choices are to give in or kill the town. But, as Vic and Smitty’s passion grows stronger, Red’s blackmail pushes them over the edge. Determined to end his reign of terror, they’ll have their justice, even if freedom comes from the end of a gun.
Inspired by film noir, and guilty towns that look the other the way, Low-Down is the story of the day Vic and Smitty risk everything for love by saying no.
—— story opening excerpt (dirty sneak-peek excerpt below) ——
Hot wind tousled Vic’s hair. An electric buzz crackled around the Hog as it ground to a stop outside the general. Its tires dug into the loose gravel with a satisfying crunch, a thick layer of dust caking every inch of their grooves. Nothing escaped the dust in Red Bird. If anything stuck around this shithole long enough, the desert claimed it.
Miss Avery sat alone at the back counter of the store. Broad Street always cleared out the last day of the month. Nobody wanted to risk running into the wrong sort of people. The old biddy had no choice but stay open. The town’s dirty, little secret was the only thing keeping her afloat, since they shuttered the rodeo.
“Good to see you.” Avery’s mouth twitched, like the politeness stung.
“Of course it is.” That dried-up cunt sure as hell wasn’t about to take her place at Red’s private party tonight. “Got my receipt?”
“Just trying to be neighborly.” Her lips pressed so tightly, they looked as if they might fuse together.
Vic snorted. “Yeah, I guess my invitation to tea got lost in the mail.”
“I’m trying, we all are.” The spinster stammered, eyes everywhere but on Vic. “It’s not easy for us, either.”
“Poor thing. It must be terrible knowing you owe a debt to the likes of us.” She smiled, savoring the woman’s obvious discomfort. “I see the insults itching to get out. Why not let it rip? Say it. Cult. Pervert. C’mon, call me a slut. You’ll feel better.”
“I’ve never … ”
“Spare me, will ya? We know how the chatter goes. If we’re whores, what does that make you so-called upstanding citizens?” She loved shoving the townies’ smug noses in their complicity. Fucking hypocrites.
“All I’m saying … ”
“Whatever, lady. Tell your priest. I don’t have time for this.” Vic didn’t give a rat fuck. She needed bullshit niceties like she needed a raging case of the clap. She shoved a fat wad of bills across the chipped formica. “You have the list and the money. Make sure that oily shitbag waits at the gate with the delivery this time. He tries to sneak in again, and I’ll take his little pecker. You hear me?”
Vic pulled the dagger from her belt. The old lady eyed it with fear and distaste. The blade, at least, she respected almost as much as the cash. She nodded silently, her horrified stare never leaving its finely-honed edge.
“Good. We do enough freebies for you people, already.”
On the way out, there was extra spring in Vic’s step. Her boots clomped on the cheap linoleum, the sound echoing off empty, dusty shelves. How she’d love to cut her out, drive this place out of business. But, much as she detested the old bat, she served her purpose. Vic couldn’t spare a slave to drive to the city for food and supplies. A willing body was far more valuable to her at the ranch. Let Avery’s creepy pig of a nephew waste his time on the road. She had important people to enlighten.
——————— dirty sneak-peeks ———————
“You look exercised,” he said, taking her bag and tossing it aside. “It’s all those clothes you have on. Take them off.” She lagged, staring at his imposing form. “Now,” he ordered, and she scrambled to obey, her breaths quick and choppy.
Floor tiles chilled her feet. The shiver rose to her nipples, and they puckered in hard, aching peaks. Pulling down her pants, she released the hot counterpoint in a trail of wetness snaking down her inner thighs.
He led her to the old iron-clad walk-in cooler, where he’d built a sound-proof playroom. Heart beating double-time to her rapid steps, she padded into the still space. Pointing to the low butchering stations, he positioned her to lift onto the counter. Ice cold and unyielding, the steel pressed into the round of her ass. He moved her like a doll, spreading her legs wide until her lips opened like a starving mouth. Holding her wrists, he pulled her hands up and back to grab a large hook overhead. Then, he slid her hips out, letting her pussy dangle over the edge.
“Don’t move,” he said, standing back to snap a photo on his mobile. He showed it to her triumphantly. “Not a muscle. If you do, I’ll know.” Rough fingertips traced up her thigh, stopping just short of paradise. “Don’t disappoint me.”
* * * * * * *
Before she could utter a single argument, he grabbed her arm, dragging her to the back rooms. But, as soon as he slammed the door behind him, he dropped to his knees.
“Please, if I can’t taste you right now, I think I’m gonna die,” he groaned.
She shook her head with an indulgent smile. “Mm, but I’m so dirty.”
“I like you dirty.” His voice was husky, almost a growl. It killed her to make him wait.
“My nasty boy,” she purred, stroking his wild mane. “Why don’t you clean me off the way I like?” She offered him a boot, which he kissed tenderly before pulling it off. Sitting on a high stool, she lifted her other foot, so he could worship it, as well. “How are my socks, love?”
Smitty held both of her feet to his nose and breathed in her essence with a delighted smile. “Victorian leather, sheer heaven.” Stripping away her socks, he began his adoration with gentle kisses on the tips of her toes.
* * * * * * *
Vic wanted more, needed to feel connected. But, she would ask. She always had. Pleasure, for her, must be mutual.
“Do you want your toy, love?” she whispered.
She’d barely spoken the words before he answered, “Oh, yes.”
The preparation had grown into somewhat of a ritual for them, one she relished almost as much as the act itself. Smitty shared her passion for the reverence of making love, the soul-nourishing joy of savoring each step of the process as a gesture of love in itself.
Removing the gear from its drawer, he first warmed the bulbous end of the toy between his hands as he approached her. Lowering to his knees, he graced her clit with a soft kiss before slowly working the bulb into her pussy. Then, with a few click and snaps, he secured the harness in place.