Saturday, July 28, 2012

Crucified and Milked

A not-well-kept secret says I am into eroticizing male crucifixion. Most stories I've written have at least one scene of a man on the cross, and I suppose sometimes I do go overboard.

One such sometime was the second story in my book, The Crux of It - Erotic Tales of Men on the Cross and the Women Who Put Them There. Guess the title spills the beans, eh? Anyway, the scene takes place in an 1880 Montana mining town, and I had the audacity to crucify seven men at once, while another one is stretched on a rack and forced to watch the seven suffer. Here's what I wrote:

Seven females moved to seven crosses -- two on the west wall to Pete's left, five on the north wall straight ahead. One by one the women removed platforms from the crosses. Each naked man dropped into full suspension, groans of agony echoing the room. Strong men. Men who swung the pick axe. Men who lifted heavy rock by hand and shovel. Hard-bodied and rugged and in all shapes and sizes -- from the thick and burly to the slender and wiry, some smooth-skinned and some covered with fur -- seven strong men now struggled for air, struggled to keep their powerful bodies together.

Gravity tortured them, threatening to rip arms from sockets. Compression on their chests and diaphragms made each breath they drew more shallow than the previous. Their heart rates gradually increased in a losing battle to supply oxygen-rich blood to muscles and organs.

A scene of beauty. A scene of tragedy. The naked male form in all its glory. Stretched, arms flared diagonally left and right, chests thrust forward, abdomens caved inward, legs dangling, struggling feet planted to stipes or wall but unable to remain there for more than seconds at a time. As their lungs gradually lost ability to intake sufficient air, their hearts raced frantically, pumping oxygen-poor blood throughout their bodies. Each man's phallus filled with blood, but the blood was unable to leave, their involuntary erections adding to their misery. Their heroic battle was a losing one, a slow, torturous demise, and Pete could not bear to see it, could not bear to listen.

"Stop it, you evil bitch. Give them something to stand on."

Because of his smart mouth, the ladies torture him awhile before I get back to the guys on their crosses here:

Seven female mouths engulfed seven hard cocks belonging to seven crucified men. Pitifully they moaned, their failing strength unable to mount resistance. Humiliated. Degraded. Crucified. Naked. Defenseless. Mercilessly sucked.

The four remaining vixens further taunted, moving from man to man, poking their belly buttons with cruel fingernails, plucking hairs from their toes and legs. None of the men could fight back, none could kick, none had the strength. Each man summoned his last ounce in his struggle to breathe, as voracious tongues ruthlessly scraped engorged penises that could not come.

So, you can see how I do at times lay it on thick. I recently made the Kindle cover for this book match the paperback version, then I lowered the Kindle price by a buck to $5.49. Descriptions for all three stories and the book's cover pic are at AMAZON . com

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