Syd McGinley
In Rude Mechanicals, Dr. Fell is camping out in the forest, but his peaceful Solstice night is interrupted by a group of young men. Will one of them turn out to be the worst bottom ever?
Excerpt:
“Good boy. Now, on your knees.”
He’s cautious since the ground has pine needles, but he’s in position.
I’ve been ignoring his appearance until now. He’s a cute kid. A bit preppy. Would look right at home on a tennis court. His dick is twitching a little, but he’s not aroused yet. I cup his head in my palm and tousle his hair.
“It’s okay, boy. Nothing bad will happen. Give me your safe word.”
“I don’t have one, sir.”
“Then you’d better think of one fast.”
“Donkey,” he blurts out when he sees my hand reach for his nipple.
I laugh. Silly, but appropriate. In more ways than one. I look down -- the kid is a grower. A very impressive grower. I’m ready to start the scene, but I want one last boost to his acting confidence. “Listen, boy: Puck thinks you’re an ass and puts the donkey head on you, but think: you’re a donkey.”
He scowls. “I know -- I’m an ass.”
“No, boy, think about other qualities of a donkey -- be proud!” I reach out and grasp his cock.
He gives me an anxious look as if expecting me to announce it’s a joke. I work his cock so it strains in my grasp.
“You’re hung! Walk with some pride. Swagger!”
His giggle is lost in a moan as I change my grip from stroke to squeeze, then to ball rolling.
“Hands and knees, boy, once around the clearing. Let me see that donkey dick swinging.”
I let his balls go and wait. After a moment, he leans forward and pauses on his hands and knees. I plan on a mild scene. He’s clearly inexperienced, but he does need to obey better. I roll the play script up tight and tap it against my thigh. He gets moving. I watch him as he crawls around the perimeter. I don’t want him injured so I keep a close eye on whether his knees are getting sore, but I admit his prick is quite a distraction. He’s rigid now and very impressive.
He’s crawling faster and faster as he gets closer to me and his cock bobs around. Damn, I could almost wish twink were here to see him on the receiving end of that prick. The boy arrives panting by my feet and rests his head on my boots.
“Bray for me.”
“What?”
“Bray. You’re Bottom and hung like a donkey. Let me hear you bray.”
He’s silent. He liked having to crawl, but he’s clearly at his limit with this little bit of humiliation. I don’t want to be cruel like his friends. I want him to embrace his role -- onstage and with me -- and if he can step over this line…
“Hee-haw,” he says quietly.
I laugh. “Oh, dear, I’m going to have to help you find your inner donkey. Follow me.”
He doesn’t balk, but crawls after me as I walk to the fallen log and sit down. I pat my thighs and try not to laugh as he scrambles over them with enthusiasm.
I still have the rolled up script and I stroke the back of his thigh with it.
“I’ll stop when I get a proper bray. No coming.”
He squirms already, and I’ve never seen a boy so lacking in trepidation at being over my knees.
It’s odd to be without my Dr. Fell reputation. Well, I am on vacation and I decide to indulge myself. The boy squeals as I give a first swat, and he wriggles and squeaks as I work up and down his thighs and over his ass. His butt is aglow by the time I toss the script aside and switch to my hand. He’s gasping now and trying not to wriggle free as I pause and caress and then spank again. His cock is grinding against my thighs and my own prick is getting uncomfortable in my jeans.
Write to Syd: sydmcginley@hotmail.com
Adopted from an alien pound, the human reassures himself: “A good bottom can obey any master.” His submission is tested in What Worse Place Can I Beg in Your Love?
“Annoyingly obedient” is what David called me. He’d dumped me because he wanted a less submissive bottom. And now my attempt to recover from him has led me to where those same traits may mean my survival. An alien holding cell turned out to be a pound, and my new owner is a seven-foot tower of jet-black muscle with raptor legs and shark teeth.
At last I’m getting the training and discipline I longed for from my Earth lovers at the claws of my alien owner. If only I can make him want me…
Excerpt
My new owner gives a patient “come along” tug – he can see I’m panicked – and a low hiss. I give my guard a scared look, but he bares his teeth, so I decide my new owner is the safest choice – as if it were mine to make. I earn an approving ass pat as I scoot to my master’s heels. My stomach churns as I realize I’ve already invested myself in him. I know I can handle it; a good bottom can obey any master.
I stay on my knees as he walks down a long sterile hall with the guard accompanying him. From my all-fours they seem bigger than ever. I dare to raise my head as we approach the lobby. He towers over me. My head’s not even as high as his knees. They pause at a counter, and I suppose my new master collects my papers and pays for me.
I stare out of the door. I’d seen little of the outside. We’d landed at night in a wooded clearing, and they were waiting for us. As we shared our cell, Joe deigned to speculate that their technology must be better than we thought – and undetectable. This isn’t the primitive world we expected. The sky is ocean-green – just blue enough to still seem sky, but alien enough to make me hesitate on the threshold and tremble.
A vehicle pulls up from a parking area and a chauffeur gets out and opens the door for my owner. My owner climbs in and hisses when I don’t move. The step is too high to handle from my hands and knees and I’m scared to stand. He tugs and I scramble in. I’m so stupid: I try to sit like a man on the cool leather-covered seats, and I’m quickly on the floor with a slapped face. My head swims as he leans forward and reveals his teeth. I’ve seen the guards snarl, but this is my first close up view of one of their faces. I faint.
*
When I wake up, I’m alone in a cage. It’s a nice cage: six-by-six feet but only three feet high. I can lie down and stretch fully, but I can’t stand up. The floor is a smooth vinyl, and the mesh is big enough to stick my arm out to the shoulder. I have a bowl of cold water. I have a blue canvas-covered cushion. I’m curled up on it when I wake up. My collar is still on, but I can see my leash hanging on the outside of the cage door.
No one comes to the room, and it gets dark. I can just sit up, cross-legged, on my cushion, without bumping my head, and I wrap my arms around my knees. I rock a little, and the moment of self-comfort unleashes my tears. I’m terrified both by my situation and the memory of his face, and I’m soon bawling as if I were six. I’m crying too messily to hear him come in and the first I know of his presence is a hand on my collar and the leash drawing me out. He has to pull – not because I fight, but because I can’t uncross my legs fast enough or gather my sobbing wits.
He doesn’t hit me again, but drags me to the bed. He sits on the edge, and I sensibly stay at his feet. He’s making a lot of his hissing noises. I can’t distinguish between them, but they sound soothing. He rubs my head with his palm, and then uses his thumb to smear away my tears. I put my head on his knee and tremble more at the feel of his thigh. It’s like rock.
I force myself to think. He seems kind in his way and I imagine what a good owner would do on a pet’s first night. Surely he’ll just let me adapt to my new space? I dare not let my mind run further. I’m an animal to him, but I suddenly find him unbearably desirable. I feel more hot tears flow as I see myself as a hump-happy little terrier pestering his legs.
Read more...Write to Syd: sydmcginley@hotmail.com
Another Fine Mess -- a new collection for Torquere Press featuring: Lee Benoit, Angelia Sparrow and Naomi Brooks, Margaret Leigh, Misa Izanaki, Camilla Bruce, Laney Cairo, Cassidy Ryan, Mychael Black, Syd McGinley, and Julia Talbot. They have bright ideas and hare-brained schemes, they bite off more than they can chew and get into a pickle. They ride to the rescue --whether or not it’s needed or welcomed. They wonder: “How am I ever going to get out of this?” Sexy, hot guys in peril, funny, or silly situations. Excerpt from A Jolly Good Idea by Syd McGinley I’m doing my best to be excited about going to I’m still sprawled over his thighs sniffling when I feel a familiar pressure against my belly. Hugh has never much bothered about distinguishing sex from punishment--it’s all service as far as he’s concerned. But today I still feel sulky enough to want to ignore his hard cock. As if it were my choice. He pulls me off his steely thighs--he may not play rugby any more but he’s still in great shape--and positions me between his knees. I sigh. He’s still gorgeous even if he is pissing me off. I kiss the scars on his knee to help me get into a kinder mood, and then run my tongue up his thigh. I snuffle my nose around his hairy balls enjoying his musk and lack of manscaping, and then settle into a diligent blow job. Even after three years, I love to play with his foreskin--sticking my tongue under it and swirling and then rolling it back with my lips as I start to suck on him. Hugh lets go of my hair and lies back on the sofa once he sees I’m cooperating. Even though he’s not holding my head, I don’t back off when he starts his hip thrusts. He’s been training me to tolerate some minor breath control this way and although it freaks me still, I know it’ll please him a lot if I let him stop my airway for a little. Besides, I dare not piss him off twice in one day. Recently his riding crop use has become harsher. He backs off again and I gulp some air. His eyes are closed as he approaches orgasm so he misses my brief panicked expression as he lunges in again. I clutch his hips as he shudders out deep into my throat. Breath control is one thing, but drowning is another. He’s in a good mood now though and I remember why I love him--we have a good evening together. There’s some rugby on the satellite, I’ve bought his favorite Newcastle Brown ale, and Hugh let me order pizza in for a change. Read more...
“It seemed like a good idea at the time...” could be the collective motto for these guys!
Write to Syd:sydmcginley@hotmail.com
