Today, Day Seven of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters, is the last of Week One, and therefore, the final taster that features my own work for a while.
I am stretching my own rules a little today- for taster number seven is the illustrated anthology Immoral Views, which also features mini-novellas from some of my writing friends, KD Grace, Rebecca Bond, Lexie Bay and Lucy Felthouse.
Published together as a paperback, each of our tales has also been released in individual ebook form.
My tale, The Circus, is total BDSM…This circus provides a very different and erotically dark evenings entertainment…there will be NO clowns…
One hundred quid a ticket!
Carrie still couldn’t believe Scott could afford to pay so much to secure her a seat in the small, run-down theatre. It wasn’t as if she was even guaranteed any action. Everything was deliberately uncertain. But then, as he had assured her, that was part of the attraction.
Perspiration was dotting down the back of her neck, and the more Carrie thought, the more she wondered if perhaps she didn’t actually want anything to happen. That it might be better just to watch, better not to win the lottery that would change her from being a mere observer of events to a prime player in the evening’s entertainment.
Even though the room was packed, every thinly covered velvet seat taken, no one looked at anyone else. No one regarded their neighbour. No one gave a friendly smile of greeting as they waited for something to happen. All eyes were focused towards the stage. There was a hushed buzz to the neglected theatre, as if the ghosts of a thousand performances had been trapped within the walls.
In the centre of the stage sat a collection of left over props from dramas long past. At first glance it appeared to be merely abandoned clutter, but as Carrie examined the items more shrewdly, she began to suspect that everything had been carefully and cleverly placed.
An oak coffee table and bench supported two legs of an iron-framed double-bed, which was devoid of either linen or mattress. Next to the sloping bed, heaped to the left side, a pile of old wooden chairs were haphazardly stacked. On the opposite side was a fallen umbrella stand, apparently tipped over by the weight of the walking sticks, canes, and what Carrie suspected were Victorian style shooting sticks. She felt her pulse quicken. You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out what that lot could be used for.
Carrie could feel the heat of her skin prickle beneath her chestnut ponytail. She sat wishing that Scott hadn’t been called away on yet another dire work-related emergency, and that he could be there with her. More than a little self-conscious, she fidgeted with her outfit. Playing safe, she’d decided to wear black. Black thigh length boots, black pleated mini skirt, black stockings, and a black chest hugging lace-up basque, with strings that only just managed to conceal the pale freckled chest over which it had been stretched. She knew she looked like a slutty walking cliché. But then again, in this place, at this time, that was entirely the point.
The unnervingly tinny music that had been droning from a speaker in the far corner of the room abruptly stopped. Carrie could feel the tension in the theatre double, and for the first time she allowed herself a fleeting survey of the other members of the audience. The competition. An almost even split of about sixty men and women, all dressed as either Dominants or Submissives, all aged between about twenty-five and forty-five. The room rippled with erotic anticipation.
When Scott had told her about The Circus, the new show that had taken over the city’s long empty theatre, Carrie had thought it really was a circus. A family show with clowns, scantily clad acrobats, and the odd juggler. She had, to his amusement, waxed lyrical about how much she’d loved the circus as a child. She was soon disabused of her naivety.
Increasingly aware of the clammy sheen of nerves on her palms, Carrie still wasn’t quite sure how Scott had talked her into coming here without him. But her curiosity had gotten the better of her, just like he’d known it would. He had insisted that, with her private personal preferences, she would be in her element having her bum smacked in front of a select group of eroticists. Carrie wasn’t so sure. Having her ass roundly whipped by Scott in the sanctity of her flat while he ordered her to crawl around the floor was one thing — but this was different. This was voyeurism on speed. The almost animal gleam to her lover’s eyes however, when he told her how much he was looking forward to a blow-by-blow account of her experience, added an extra dimension to the tingle of fearful anticipation that played in her stomach.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a gravelly masculine voice bellowed over a speaker system that crackled from the effects of dust and lack of use. “Welcome to The Circus. I would ask you all to abide by your hosts decisions, and only mount the stage if and when you are invited to do so. Sit back and enjoy. It’s show time!!…”
Buy Links- Immoral Views is available as a paperback or e-book from Amazon, and all good retailers.