Steam & Spurs by Johnny Stone
The year is 1893 and Earth is a place of wondrous steam driven machines during the Victorian age of Imperialism. Spacecraft prowl the stars, colonizing alien worlds while battling the barbaric pirates of Mars. It’s a world where the Confederate States of America won the civil war, and the Republic of Texas finally gained its independence to stand alone as a sovereign country. It’s a time of leather and calico lace, of Techno music and perpetual motion technology, giving birth to twisted sense of farfetched dreams commonly known as Steampunk.
But there’s one man who lives life by his own terms, trapped in the past while thumbing his nose at modern society as he carves a place in history using nothing but a gun and his stubborn courage. He’s a war hero, an Indian fighter, a Texas Ranger and a bounty hunter; and his name is Johnny Stone.
Johnny is an outwardly gruff, old-west personality with a subdued code of rustic honor in an age that continues to pass him by with leaps and bounds. Throughout his life, he’s always had a knack for showing up at the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s a man with a seemingly charmed life and a haunted past, walking on the razors edge of danger and tempting fate more often than not as certain death passes him by again and again.
Rainia Morwin, Captain of the British luxury liner the Dreaming Star, is a Venutian Mistress with years of experience in dominating men. She’s a strong woman, with a mind as sharp as her tongue. But, she’s also a secretive switch, craving the wonderful bliss of a domineering male hand with the unwavering strength and persistence to take what is rightfully theirs from a woman, if they’re able. Her search for a new Master, a loving man that can fulfill the needs she so desperately craves again after so many years of dimming hope, is about to be found in an unlikely source.
This sultry novel is brought to you by the author of The Devil’s Dance. Steam & Spurs has something for everyone; suspense & suspension, sex & fighting, guns & whips.
I took a step back, wiping the sweat from my brow, inspecting my work in silent admiration. It had taken more than an hour to get Rainia ready, and I’ll tell you what, the rope work I’d done on her had definitely strained my skill to the limit. She was hanging about four feet off the ground by a metal T-bar, and a system of pulleys rigged to an overhead crossbeam with eyebolts. Her arms were pulled tightly behind her back, tied at the wrists and elbows with soft cotton rope. Her legs were bent at the knees, tightly bound and spread wide by two separate ropes lifting her slightly, so her head hung at a downward angle. I have to admit that the intricate pattern of intertwining ropes and knots wrapped about her torso and thighs kind of reminded me of a spider web dress in a way. At first, I thought it was all for show, until I figured out the whole contraption evenly distributed her weight, supporting her snuggly in a constricting cradle, more or less. The tight winding pattern wrapped about Rainia’s chest pinched her large breasts together, giving them a dark bulging appearance. It looked a bit painful in my opinion, turning her tits into a pair of engorged balloons about ready to pop. I guess a sense of constricting pain was the intended purpose, based on the last thing she had me do.
A separate rope ran snuggly through her crotch and around her neck, tied in an out of the ordinary way to say the least. If she lowered her head, it pulled across her back, growing tighter between her legs. If she raised her head, it choked her… as if the damn thing wasn’t tight as hell already. The rope was already grinding ruthlessly into her cunt, and one thing I found odd about it, was its actual size. Despite her height and solidly built frame, that little pink flower seemed to be just that: a very inviting, but undersized example of alluring female temptation. Yes sir, fucking Rainia was going to make for one mighty snug fit by the looks of it.
I couldn’t understand what she got out of the choking part, though. I’d seen my share of men hung in the past, and it wasn’t something I cared to experience whether it was in the bedroom or not. At least I understood the reason behind wrapping her neck in velvet cloth beforehand; the rope would undoubtedly leave marks if I hadn’t.
I was no stranger to the heat, but Rainia’s cabin had grown uncomfortably warm and stuffy by the time I was finished. She wouldn’t let me open a window either; said it might draw unwanted attention from the noise. Damn, what the hell is Rainia doing, heating the place with steam? It sure as hell felt like it at any rate. She hardly seemed to take notice of the Deep South humidity, other than the light shimmer of random perspiration dotting her body. As for me, my shirt had come off some time ago as I progressively worked up a thick, dripping sweat. I was starting to smell a bit gamy too, but Rainia didn’t seem to mind that any more than the heat. In fact, she’d craftily snuck deep huffing whiffs of me every so often when I was tying her up. I’d already tagged her as eccentric, in regards to her sexual tastes, but as for her actually enjoying the rich, pungent aroma of man’s body? Strange…
Her tolerance to the heat, and taking a liking to the smell of a man, weren’t the only things I found surprising, if not peculiar about Rainia. Her skin started to take on a rosy, pinkish tint to it the warmer it got, almost like she was sunburned. Maybe it had something to do with increased blood flow that helped keep her cool? I’d heard there were certain animals that could do that, but who’s to say? She wasn’t human, so anything’s possible.
Rainia also happened to have a fare amount of fading hairline scars from edged weapons adorning random points of her otherwise flawless skin. She’d definitely seen her fair share of fighting over the years, no doubt about it. Some of them looked like they must have been pretty nasty wounds at one point. The one thing about her that honestly shocked the hell out of me though, was the presence of lightning-bolt stretch marks just above her pubic hair, and on the undersides of her stomach. I found it hard to picture anyone’s mother, alien or not, doing something like we were about to do.
The wide leather strap sitting on the nearby table was to be her primary method of ‘disciplining,’ for what I had no idea, and at this point, I could have cared less. I took my place, ready to begin. Rainia had given me clear, step by step instruction earlier as to how she wanted things done tonight. I wasn’t supposed to speak a word once we started, just do as I was told.
“Remember, Johnny, no matter what I say, no matter how much I beg or plead, you will not stop whipping me until I say the word ‘Red,’ do you understand?”
“Yep, got it.”
“Good,” she whispered. “You may proceed.”
I shook my head, still not quite believing what I was about to do. I’ve never raised a hand to a woman my entire life, not like this at least, and now I was about to whip one because she asked me to. My arm cocked back, and the leather strap cut the air between us. Thwack. It landed across one of her firm ass cheeks, making it bounce lightly.
“Harder Johnny, I know you’re stronger than that.”
Thwack! I hit the same cheek again. This time her entire body jerked under the impact.
“A little girl could do this better than you, harder I said!” God damn you woman, I growled under my breath with a racing pulse. I didn’t want to hurt her but…
Thwack! A muffled groan, barely audible over the music tickled my ears, as the first sign of a deep red mark blossomed to life on her ass. I cringed, waiting. I’d hit her hard all right, much harder then I intended.
“Yes, perfect. Now start your count.”
I stared at the back of her head speechless. She couldn’t feel pain like a normal person; there was no goddamn way.
I commenced to whippin’ Rainia just like she’d instructed me to do, and just as harsh as my final test blow; twenty lashes per cheek with a five-second delay between them. It wasn’t long before the fall of my arm grew into a steady rhythm that matched the pulsing music playing in the background. Apparently, it was for more than just cover noise. It kind of reminded me of one of those drummers on an old galley ship, setting the time for me to follow.
Rainia’s breathing grew deep and chaotic, while spasms of apparently delightful agony coursed through her from every tormenting impact of the strap. There was no doubt in my mind now, that she really did enjoy this sort of thing; the entire room began to sing with euphoric aroma of simmering pussy and uncaged, womanly desire. I suppose that’s why I found it much easier to whip her ass, than I would have ever dreamt possible.
At one point I watched her struggle with her wrists, whining in desperation like she was trying to escape, like she was actually some sort of a helpless prisoner. The only thing I could figure was that she was playing out some sort of silent fantasy in her head.
I almost stopped when Rainia began to whimper, pleading softly to an unseen antagonist. Or was she pleading to me? “Please, you don’t have to whip me… I’ll do better next time, I promise.”
“I know I’m a dirty slut, but I can learn to suck your dick better?” What the hell’s she talking about?