I have chosen to read an unpublished piece, an excerpt from my polyamourous queer BDSM romance novel in progress, Shocking Violet, that’s titled “My Pretty Boy”. It depicts a gender play scene between Jax, a transgender stone butch dominant, and his pretty boy, Rickie, a stone femme trans guy. The full story will be printed in my upcoming erotica collection, Show Yourself to Me, along with most of my erotica, old and new. This collection, coming out from Go Deeper Press, showcases my work over the last fifteen years.
I’m looking forward to sharing an excerpted version of “My Pretty Boy” with folks this weekend. I adore the relationship Jax has with Rickie, and the intensity of their play together. This story centers a bottom who hates soft gentle touch, and chooses to take it anyway, for his dominant. That aspect of their play electrifies the scene.
I’m going to share a taste with you. As a heads up, it references gender play, blood sports, blade play, and pain play.
Rickie was as armored as Jax. He didn’t want anyone too close, didn’t talk about feelings. That suited Jax just fine. The play was hot, respectful, intense, and boundaried in exactly the way Jax needed it to be.
Tenderness was edgy for Rickie, which made it a lovely tool for a stone butch sadist like Jax. His reactions to it were so glorious. Jax was looking forward to this date.
Rickie greeted him in the tightest black jeans Jax had ever seen, and a teal hoodie, unzipped so Jax could see the white v-neck underneath. His head was tilted, his eyes accented with slate eyeliner, his lips a deep blue, his nails a sparkly fuschia.
“Damn, you look pretty, boy.”
“I thought you might appreciate these jeans, Sir.”
Rickie adored being Jax’s pretty boy. He needed to be honored in the complexity of his gender, the ways that it was classic NYC Puerto Rican femme. Jax had consistently done that over the last year and a half. Inside play, and out of it. That shit was rare.
“Where are you at tonight?” Jax asked.
“I need to go down, hard. Need to prove I can take a lot. I need to bleed for you.”
“You can take a lot. You’re tough. The prettiest boys usually are, hmm?”
“Sir, I need…please make my mascara run.”
“Gladly. It makes me want to fuck you. Do you want my cock inside you tonight?”
“Oh, yes, Sir. I need you inside me.”
“Then we are on the same page. I’m in a claiming mood, like where we went a couple months ago. Remember that?”
Did he ever. That was exactly right for tonight, so much what Rickie needed that he hadn’t even let himself think it.
“I’d like that,” he said gruffly.
“Alright, then. Are you ready for me?”
“Stay in exactly that spot. I will be there in a bit.”
Jax headed to the bathroom with his bag. He hadn’t wanted to be packing on the train over. But now that they were going to play…The familiar press of it in his tight jeans was a reminder to seek his own pleasure tonight. He had bad habits in that area, and he’d been working on breaking them. He was no service top, at heart, had deep needs of his own, and balancing them as he played was part of his conscious practice over the past year.
He took his time moving toward his boy, looked him over, slowly. He pulled out the only three tools he needed. His favorite quirt, his rubber flail, and the scissors that were dedicated to this boy. He picked up the scissors, pressed the sharp tips against his boy’s jugular, and spoke for the first time since he’d put the boy against the wall and told him to stay there.
“If you want to keep those jeans intact, they need to come off, now.”