Saturday, April 16, 2011

The Bachelor Machine

By M.Christian (Guest Blogger)

Science fiction erotica from Circlet Press

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Okay, I admit it: I'm a geek, a nerd, a fan-boy: my bookshelves are 10% 'classics,' 10% mysteries and thrillers, 40% non-fiction, but the rest (40%, if you're counting) have rocket ships and robots on the covers. Naturally, a pretty good percentage of my own work has been the same, and The Bachelor Machine is all of those: cyberpunk, steampunk, splatterpunk, and all the other 'punks' of science fiction, fantasy, and horror -- with a steaming erotic bent, of course -- in one book.

Blurb

"M.Christian's stories squat at the intersection of Primal Urges Avenue and Hi-Tech Parkway like a feral-eyed, half-naked Karen Black leering and stabbing her fractal machete into the tarmac. Portraying a world where erotic life has spilled from the bedroom into the street, and been shattered into a million sharp shards, these tales undercut and mutate the old verities concerning memory, desire and loyalty. Truly an author for our post-everything 21st century."

- Paul Di Filippo, author of The Steampunk Trilogy, and reviewer for Issac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine.

Excerpt (from the short story "Hack Work")

Nein, wait, first,—take her ankles, pull her towards you. Idiot! Put the crop down first, on the bed. Yes! Pull her towards you. Good, now turn her over, hard. Do it, idiot! Yes, yes—such a pretty cunt she has: such a pretty, pretty cunt. So black. She gleams, ja? She shines for us, for me. Tell her, speak to her, tell her she is wet. Tell her that she is a cunt, just a pussy for us. Tell her.

The words jammed in my throat and stammered, but they came. I felt my body break sweat from my feet to my face, a fever of fear and disgust that made everything waver in the hot room. I wanted to drop away, to give up completely and just let him have me, do what he wanted to do with her. I just didn’t want to watch anymore.

But I didn’t think, not once, of cutting the connection. I didn’t know then why, and I don’t know now.

Take off your blouse, take off your bra—I know they’re hard because I can feel them. Do nothing, do not say anything. Just stand.

I did. She turned quick and wrapped her lips around my right nipple, sucking with her strong lips, teasing it with her strong teeth. One hand, her right, reached up to tickle my left nipple.

Take her hair, force her back.

I did, drawing her off my nipple. Then she was free, panting like she’d been running, eyes fixed on, first, my crinkled, hard nipple, and then, second, my face.

Draw her up, pull her up by her hair. Do it!

I lifted her by her hair and, with my other hand, her chin. She helped by climbing up onto her knees. Then she was kneeling in front of me. A nipple (like a drop of coal on her breast), I saw, mesmerized, had fallen free of her bra.

Tear it off.

I did, my arms following his directions—my mind disconnected, retreated into doing exactly what he said to do. Her breasts were lovely and dark: large but not fat, bigger than mine—they barely fell as the bra snapped and tore in my hands (she almost falling forward by my earnest ripping).Two nipples out, then, both large and hard, blacker on black.

Tell her that if she makes a sound or moves away the game is over and we will leave. Tell her—

I did, his words falling from my mouth.

Take her nipples in your hands, thumbs and forefingers, and squeeze. Hard! Harder than that—you idiot, this is what she’s here for. Do it!

I thought about reminding him of our contract, that I could have a case of cutting him for abusive treatment of me. I didn’t, though. I didn’t. I couldn’t say a word, I just took her nipples and captured them in my hot and sweaty hands (dimly aware of his cock, a phantom ache of hardness somewhere) and squeezed as hard as I could.

Her eyes got wide. She began to breathe, hot and heavy, like a horse after a race, sweat making her reflect the dim green light in the room—polishing her with pain and something else. I was aware of her smell, rich and strong, as I watched her pupils widen till she stared at me (at me?)—black walnuts quivering in pure cream.

Run your fingers through her cunt, get her juice on your finger tips. Hold them in front of her face. Say, “This is what you are.”

I did, my body did, my mind in the back shaking with fear and something else. She sucked my fingers, tasting herself and growling in heat.

Take her, turn her hard and throw her on the bed.

I did. Her ass was tight, hot, and glimmering on the bed. Her smell was even stronger. She rose up on all fours, the perfect globes of her ass parting, showing me herself, offering herself to me.

Hit her.

I held the crop and did not move, trapped between his bellowing voice and my own arm. I only did what he said I had to do. He did not have control. I would break the connection, pull myself in, zip myself up, and leave.

I would.

Coward. You are afraid. Gott, you feel it, but you are scared. She wants this, she needs this as much as I need this. She wants the crop, idiot. She wants to feel your force, your power. That is why she is here, why I am here. Do it now, fool, or I will break and report you: we do this because we want to do this. I take nothing that is not offered.

Look at her, she wants it more than your body. Hit her, damn you, hit her and give us what we both want!

Anger was a vibrating wire in my guts, around my spine. The crop was light in my hand—but I knew he felt it more than I did, my senses rerouted to my fare.

Hit her now!

Bio: M.Christian is - among many things - an acknowledged master of erotica with more than 300 stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, and many, many other anthologies, magazines, and web sites. He is the editor of 25 anthologies including the Best S/M Erotica series, The Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, The Mammoth Book of Future Cops and The Mammoth Book of Tales of the Road (with Maxim Jakubowksi) and Confessions, Garden of the Perverse, and Amazons (with Sage Vivant) as well as many others. He is the author of the collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, Licks & Promises, Filthy, Love Without Gun Control, Rude Mechanicals, and Coming Together Presents M.Christian, Pornotopia, How To Write And Sell Erotica; and the novels Running Dry, The Very Bloody Marys, Me2, Brushes, and Painted Doll. His site is www.mchristian.com

2 comments:

Colleen said...

Another new author for me... thanks for the introduction!

Anne said...

New to me author too. I gotta say you've had some interesting guest posters this month.

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