New book! The Viscountess Interrogates

$6.99 ebook
$19.95 paperback (buy paperback)
Ebook ISBN 978-1-61390-161-8
Paperback ISBN 978-1-61390-162-5
130,606 words; 354 pages

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Also available on Amazon and elsewhere.

Elegant sleuth The Viscountess and her perceptive slave and crime-solving partner Severin are back to solve another mystery in the world of fetish and kink Dominions.

They inhabit a magical and kinky world of pocket universes that reflect every fetish fantasy humans can dream of. To solve the mystery of a missing object and a disappearance they will travel through territories both familiar and new: Victoria, the pornographic London that never was, The Wasteland, a post-apocalyptic Dominion of anarchy in scarcity, and the ultimate unreal setting of fantasy and unrepressed libido: Las Vegas. Severin falls into the hands of a lesbian biker gang, and The Viscountess goes undercover in an all-girls boarding school. This sequel to The Viscountess Investigates is a scene-packed romp full of bondage, corporal punishment, and femdoms that will thrill your inner geek. (Books may be read in any order.)

Read on for an excerpt!

There were entrances to Dominions in various places on the Earth. Some were located in the backs of gay bars or strip clubs. Others were in comic book stores or old buildings. Many of these permanent Gateways, like Victoria’s, had gatekeepers who helped with the transition to the new world.
The Wasteland apparently had a junkyard.
Following the instructions in the message the Viscountess and Severin arrived at the gate of what appeared to be an abandoned junkyard. There was no sign of life and what few lights there were flickered on and off. All they could make out through the fence was debris and huge mounds of rusting cars. The gate was closed, but not locked, so they made their way inside.
So many of the messages had stressed how dangerous the Wasteland could be that the Viscountess had ordered Severin to wear clothing and removed his collar. There was no sense in drawing too much attention to him by letting him go naked. For her part the Viscountess wore a long coat over her cat suit and placed her six foot bullwhip on her belt next to her other tools. The bullwhip was not a Named Fetish object, but it was loud and impressive when she used it. She kept other items they hopefully would need in the coat’s pockets
Severin’s hiking boots crunched broken glass as they slipped through the fence. Although every instinct told him to walk behind his owner, he felt the uncertainty of the situation called for him to take the lead.
They took the broadest path between piles of old cars and appliances and soon found there was so much debris built up that they were cut off from the rest of the city. A few lights cast a yellowish glow over the scene.
Abruptly they heard barking and two naked women rushed out of the shadows on all fours growling and snarling. Their bodies were lean and hard like greyhounds and it was impossible to tell much more about them since they were also covered in dirt. Both of them had shaved heads and heavy metal collars with spikes.
Their movements were so animalistic that for a split second they really seemed to be dogs. Both the Viscountess and Severin froze instantly. The two women scrambled around them on their hands and knees, growling and sniffing them.
The dog on their right barked loudly, making them jump slightly in the opposite direction. That set both of the dogs barking and snarling as they shuffled forward on their hands and knees. The Viscountess and Severin found themselves being forced down a sort of alley between mounds of old cars.
“Do you suppose they’re the gatekeepers?” the Viscountess whispered, afraid any loud noise would set the dogs off.
“Either that or Timmy’s fallen down a well.”
They were gradually forced down one path and around a corner. If either of them deviated from the path one of the dogs would growl at them and snap their teeth.
They found themselves facing the front end of an old van that was sticking out of the junk pile at an odd angle. The hood and badly cracked windshield were visible, but the rest of the van was buried in junk up to the front doors. The dogs barked excitedly. One of them got up on her knees and pawed at the door.
The Viscountess and Severin glanced at each other. Severin shrugged.
Carefully the Viscountess opened the door. She removed a flashlight from the pockets of her coat. There seemed to be nothing unusual about the interior, but as she played the flashlight around she saw something that made her pause. There was no junk visible through the rear windows.
Followed closely by Severin, she made her way back. When they got to the rear doors both of them felt the familiar tingling sensation. They were about to enter a Gateway.
Throwing open the rear door, they saw that they were in a junkyard, but not the same junkyard they entered. Both of them knew that they were in another Dominion. The crisp, clear air of the desert filled their lungs. The objects on this side of the van had been stripped clean of anything that might be useful. The mounds of wrecked cars were smaller and more scattered. Above them the moon hung large in the sky, not obscured by layers of smog.
They made sure to close the doors to the van behind them before starting out. This junkyard was set on the edge of a small town. Many of the buildings were abandoned and decayed. Torches provided illumination in some parts of town, but there appeared to be electricity in others. Two searchlights stabbed into the sky, rotating back and forth.
“What do we know?” The Viscountess asked.
“Tiger Mask has been hired to fight on behalf of a group of women. From the looks of the place, it’s probably some kind of gladiatorial match.”
“Any more clues?”
“The file was very sparse, but I say we should head for the searchlights. If the fight isn’t being held there, they should know where it is.”
Viscountess nodded. The lights came from the center of town, where several fires burned.
The road into town was partly covered by blowing sand. An old, bullet-ridden sign once declared what highway this was, but the details had long ago rusted away. There was a fairly high-tech windmill on either side of the road. Each windmill had a naked woman tied to the blades, her arms on one and her legs spread on the two others. Their faces were relaxed in deep submission as they turned slowly and mournfully in the breeze.
Faces peered out from cracked windows as they went deeper into the city. They heard loud music and the sound of an engine from behind them. The Viscountess and Severin managed to get out of the way just as a pickup truck went roaring past them. The music sounded like arena rock from the eighties, but the distortion in the speakers made it hard to tell. Perhaps that was when their apocalypse had occurred and it was the only music they had left.
The back of the pickup truck had been made into an iron cage with welded bars. Women wearing nothing but rags clung desperately to the bars, trying not to be injured by the reckless driving. There was another woman stretched across the hood of the truck like a prize deer they had killed. There was a blanket protecting her from the heat of the engine, but Severin still winced in sympathy.
Two blocks ahead of them, a makeshift prison had been set up with barbed wire. The sobbing and screaming women were dragged out of the back of the truck and forced through the gate. Men with rifles looked down from rooftops into the barbed wire pen.
The Viscountess walked in front, Severin slightly behind her. She kept up an even pace, and tried not to pay too much attention to what was happening around her, but couldn’t help seeing the woman chained across the hood being set free. They gave her some water and what looked like a snack bar.
When she was finished eating, the leader grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at the holding pen where the rest of the prisoners were being kept. The woman wailed in anguish and gave her attacker an unexpected elbow in the ribs, breaking his grip. She ran a few steps, but was brought down by three men and pinned to the pavement. What few scraps of clothing she had left were torn away. During the struggle she was hit hard enough that her lower lip bled.
They were preparing to gang bang her as the Viscountess and Severin walked past. One of the men glanced up, saw The Viscountess, and grinned from ear to ear–or to be accurate from one ear to the stump where he had lost his other ear. He had a shaved head and was wearing a motorcycle jacket, no shirt, and torn denim pants. He held a two-foot machete in one beefy hand.
“Hey boys!” he called to the rest of the men. “Looks like we got another volunteer.”
“Sorry, no,” the Viscountess nodded politely to him. “I’m just passing through.”
“I didn’t say you could fucking pass.”
He came at her, fingering the machete. The woman who was their first victim had finally been pinned and she twisted her head to see what was causing the delay. She glared when she saw the Viscountess. Apparently she was not happy with the competition for the men’s attention.
The Viscountess let her dominant energy spike to the surface. The would-be attacker halted as solidly as if he had hit a brick wall. His own dominance flared, breaking like an ocean wave against her indomitable will.
They were close enough now that she could talk without his friends hearing. Very casually the Viscountess opened her long coat and showed the flagellation instruments hanging from her belt. He stared at them and tried to laugh, but it didn’t quite come out right.
“Either I can Safeword and walk away, or I can make you apologize on your knees in front of you friends. Which is it going to be?” she asked sweetly.
The big man licked his lips nervously. The rest of the gang was still egging him on. Carefully he extended his arm, bringing the point of the machete towards her throat, but not close enough to actually be a threat to her.
“That’s right, cunt! Take your asshole friend and get out. The next time I see you, you’re the one who’s going to be across the hood of the truck.”
The Viscountess backed away, pretending to be intimidated by him. Severin stuck close to her. He didn’t have to pretend to be afraid; the bald man was quite a bit taller than him and his arrogant manner reminded Severin of way too many schoolyard bullies he had encountered.
On the pavement the gang’s victim was raising her hips and grinding them against the man on top of her, trying to get him to stop staring at the Viscountess.
As the Viscountess and Severin retreated from the Scene they saw the man with the machete go over to their victim and put a boot on each of her wrists, crushing her arms to the ground. The man on top of her rose long enough to grab her legs and force her knees to her chest. He held her there while yanking open his pants and letting his sizable cock swing free. The woman let out a shrill scream as he penetrated her.
As the sound of the assault faded behind them the Viscountess sighed.
“I suppose it’s a prejudice, but I prefer the more genteel and civilized form of slavery in Victoria,” she admitted.