Word Count: 73K
I'm a professional...really, I am.
I tried powering on, writing "Kai's" story for the second installment of the Notice Me Senpai series. I did. I wrote past Kuval's insistence that it was time to continue on with his story. I worked past Elddyn walking in and out of my mind space. I typed as Homura just sat in the back watching me try to concentrate on Kai, watching me. With those eyes. Those flame, burning eyes. I kept typing... sort of. And now Kai's not talking. Not that he talked much anyway. But it seems he's a patient man and wishes to wait to continue until he has my undivided attention. So, I'm back on writing pyromage.
I've figured out the pattern. Every writer needs a break from the story they're writing at times and if I don't have type it all down in 6 months, I seem to flutter to other things. Six months should be enough to write, right? Well, when it's only that book your writing, I can do it. But, yet again, I have reverted to ghost writing once more. I wanted to be sure I had money for the publishing side so I've written 3 novels in the last 6 months (not including the writing projects just for me) and now I am free once more.
I tried writing only what I planned to publish under my name but I got the itch to write something else. Something different. Something with others.
I like working with clients to write the story that they want. I also like the creativeness others bring to the table. I also love the community of writing with and for people, incorporating their ideas into the craft and creating a story that makes them happy. It's that feeling I get when Cynthia presents a new image for me and I hop up and down and want to spread it around. I'd show my neighbors a print out, but I have cows for neighbors and I don't think they appreciate the art as much as say... a real person. Really, cows are my neighbors. Not proverbial cows, real, milk giving, grass eating, calf making cows.
When I get burned out on writing my stories, I turn to ghost writing. When I get burned out ghost writing, I turn to my own projects. But this ghost writing session gave me another great idea for a paranormal story that I think is going to be the one I'm going to release on the blog!! Yay! I have something to give my blog readers. For now, you'll have to read The King's Thief on the blog as it's complete or Dangerous Gamble an Elite Dangerous inspired short story. I enjoyed writing both of them and I hope you enjoy reading them. :)
Below is another excerpt strickly for my Dirties. That's what I'm gonna call you. My Dirties. Or maybe it should be My Dirty's. Or My Dirtys. You know, those who read my blog. (If you haven't noticed, I call my blog A Dirty Blog!) So now, below, is all for you--my preciouses.
No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from S.N.McKibben. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. Thank you!
Excerpt ♦ Pyromage
“Please don’t go. I’ll do anything. Anything!” I pulled at my chains, frantic, panting, eyes darting from Kuval’s face to the bamboo contraption.
He was doing his best to be care-free about the situation, but he refused to look at me. “We’re out of food,” he said. “And vials.”
“Take me with you! I’ll be good. I swear. I promise. Just don’t turn that spicket!”
He winced, but nothing I said made Kuval listen to me.
“You said…you said dragons don’t lie. I…I’ll promise. Please.” My voice raised to a pitch that would make a bird’s ears hurt. “Please!”
It wasn’t working. He’d shut me out. Kuval was going to turn and leave and when he did, the water would flow. I had to do something. Say something. Anything to break through to his indifference. I mustered a firm, steady voice as he opened the front door. “I will suck your cock. I will guzzle your cum. Not a drop will spill from my mouth. You can bend me to my knees and shove that massive snake in your pants down my throat for as long as you like without a single complaint from me.”
He paused and stood in the doorway without looking back. Three seconds passed. His hand clutched and released the knob.
“No biting. No tricks. No Fire,” I continued. “You’ll beg for more and I will open my mouth to you like a fúrr damn baby bird. Gladly. But only if you take me with you now.”
Kuval swore, turned and yanked the door closed. Stomping over to me he loomed over my body.
“Swear to me you will not flame up, heat yourself or hurt me while we are out.”
“For this outing, I swear I will not so much as heat my skin. But aside from you, I reserve the right to protect myself.”
“No.” He swept his hand as if batting the idea away.
“Kuval, I’m an assassin…”
“Then you have to trust me. I will protect you. No flames. No heat. No balls of fire. No matter what.”
I grit my teeth. Fúrr, he was leaving me defenseless. “There are people out there that would kill me.”
“Then you’ll be safer here.” He turned.
“No! Okay. No flames.” What the hell was I doing? Staying the fúrr away from water, that’s what. “No heat. No fire balls. No matter what. Nothing.”
“And I get to pick when and where you give me the pleasure of…shoving my snake down your throat.” The smile on his face shined just as brightly as his laughing eyes.
I swallowed. “Fantastic. Public humiliation, huh.”
His expression softened and a finger caressed my lips. “No. I like doing it outside, but not with strange eyes on me and my lover.”
Lover. My eyes widened. Another swallow. I cast my gaze elsewhere.
Kuval double timed it and I was dressed in my black pants, black coat, black boots and white shirt. Of course a certain silver necklace-manacle completed the ensemble. Wonderful. This was its own public humiliation. I could hear the hoots and hollers of the towners now. Got yourself a fire eater? How much for allowing me to dowse ‘em? No, Kuval wouldn’t do that to me, would he? Had I traded one Water torture for another? Faith. He wanted faith. A part of my heart wanted so desperately to trust. While the broken, hardened part of me cursed my stupidity. Hope was a fragile aphrodisiac. The kind where, in the past, I’d expected euphoria and received misery. It might not have been so bad if he’d left my hands free, but shackles clamped around my wrists.
“I don’t want shop owners claiming you a thief.”
“I’m not going to steal anything.”
He gave me a pointed stare.
“As you wish.” I shrugged. It was to be expected. At least my feet were free.
“I do wish.” He gave me an inviting side-ways grin and we set off in the bright early morning.
If you are looking for all the pyromage updates, click the "pyromage" category and start from the last post date to the current post date. The first post update was on 8/4/2016.
Until next time! Happy Reading!
♥ ~ Stephy