Tuesday, 22 April 2014

The Dom with the Kink Monsters - available now!


***Do you like kink? Hot ménage sex? Band books? Love?***

The Dom with the Kink Monsters by Sorcha Black is out on Amazon, Smashwords and All Romance today! It’s the fifth book in the Badass Brats Series, but can be read as a stand-alone.

The Kink Monsters need a drummer and Cobalt Harbor is fresh out – that is, until Ramsay moves into town with his girl, Saya. Tall, dommy and charismatic, Ramsay’s exactly what Winter and Mack have been looking for.

But the new couple complicates things. Winter and Mack’s loving, S&M dynamic gets sidetracked by their attraction to Ramsay and his sub. Proximity, BDSM and animal attraction throw the band into seething sexual chaos.

As though things weren’t complicated enough, sudden popularity and a new deal-breaker tangle the relationship into a mess that none of them know how to unravel.

Warning: Explicit sexual content, dubious consent, M/m, F/f, M/f/f/m, BDSM, knife play, anal play/intercourse.

Mack’s eyes were slits and he was watching Ramsay watching Winter. He was starting to look buzzed. “I bet I could take you.”

“In a fight? Am I pissing you off, Mack?” He chuckled. Jealous, maybe?

Winter looked slightly amused, but not worried. “Don’t mind him. He likes wrestling, and he gets like this when he’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, woman.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Women don’t understand how it is. That’s all.” Mack continued. “If you don’t know who can kick whose ass, there’s no pecking order. It’s chaos.”

“So you want to wrestle me to figure out who the band’s alpha is?” Ramsay asked, with a snort. “I’ve been in several bands and I’ve never seen it settled like that.”

“No, no,” Mack frowned, waving vaguely. “I just mean socially.”

“So you want to wrestle to figure out whether you can respect me?”


Saya gave Ramsay a sly look. She’d love nothing better than to watch. Maybe a simple wrestling match would sate her pervy soul. He tangled his hand tighter in her hair and tipped her head back for a rough kiss.

“Fine,” he said to both of them.

Winter sighed, but got to her feet and moved the coffee table out of the way. Ramsay pulled Saya up and coaxed her onto the couch. She tucked her feet up under her and he brushed his lips against her ear.

“This is for you, princess. This is all you’re getting, so make sure you pay attention.”

When he drew back, her eyes were shining. “Yes, Master.”

He crossed the room to Winter and took the bottle of vodka from her, drank from it and handed it back.

She rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous. Why are men like this? Saya, do you have the slightest urge to wrestle me to find out who’s queen bitch?”

Ramsay glanced over his shoulder in time to see Saya turning bright red.

She ducked her head. “I know I’m not. I don’t need proof.”

When he turned back to Winter, her gaze was traveling over Saya with interest. Ramsay could imagine them kissing and, between all of the booze and the sexual tension in the room, his cock refused to stay down. It was pressing irritably against his underwear, and he was glad he’d thought of wearing them, since he generally didn’t bother.

It was a bad scene when a man’s own cock wouldn’t obey him.

Without warning, a body barreled into him, knocking him off his feet and into the couch. Saya squeaked and he watched to make sure she moved farther away.

“I take it we’re starting.” He grunted and pushed Mack away onto the floor. Ramsay jumped on the smaller man in an attempt to pin him, but Mack was stronger than he looked.

“You kept talking. I figured you were stalling.” Mack chuckled and got hold of one of Ramsay’s wrists and wrenched it behind his back. Ramsay pivoted and wrapped his legs around Mack’s torso then fought to grab his arms. The other man bucked and heaved, managing to wriggle free. Mack stood and stripped off his shirt, flushed from the exercise. Ramsay took his off too – there was no use in giving him extra handholds.

“Holy shit,” Winter whispered, barely audible over their harsh breathing.

Saya giggled. “I know. He doesn’t even work out. It’s a crime. The two of them are completely different kinds of hot.”

“We should oil them up and sell tickets.” Winter crossed the room and sat next to Saya on the couch.

“You do realize that taking off our shirts doesn’t mean we suddenly can’t hear you, right?” Mack smirked.

Following Mack’s earlier lead, Ramsay took him down unexpectedly and they started rolling around on the floor, grappling again. This went on for quite a while, with Ramsay getting several pins on Mack, then Mack squirming free.

They were alternating between laughing, grunting, swearing. Sweat mingled. Mack’s face was too close a few times. His lean muscles slid under Ramsay’s hands as the thinner man tried to escape. Ramsay hadn’t done anything as asinine as wrestling a guy since he’d been in middle school. Why had this seemed like a good idea?

Starting off drunk, horny and with two hot girls egging them on was crossing his wires. The need for rough sex was getting distracting. He needed to put a halt to this now, before it got any weirder – but how to stop without losing?

He had Mack pinned again. The smaller man was getting tired and panted beneath him.

“Are you done?” Ramsay growled, angry at how this was making him feel.

Mack’s eyes hazed and his lips parted, reminding Ramsay of the look Saya got when she submitted to him. And was that Mack’s cock hard against his own leg? It was the booze, right? It was just because they’d had too much to drink, and the girls were here and...

His captive came alive again, struggling in a last-ditch effort to not lose. Mack craned his neck and bit Ramsay’s chest, hard. Pain shot through him and hit his groin like a jolt of electricity.


He cuffed the side of Mack’s head and when his teeth let go of his flesh, Ramsay bit his shoulder in retaliation. Mack cried out, and the noise caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. He pulled back and looked down at Mack’s face. He was panting, a look of naked desire in his eyes. No man had the right to look so beautiful. For a desperate moment Ramsay fought the urge to kiss him violently – to show him once and for all who the bitch was.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He detached himself from the other man and stood, holding up a staying hand. “That’s enough.”

Mack levered himself up on one elbow and watched him, his face bright red either from exertion, embarrassment or both. “I shouldn’t have bit you. I don’t know why I did that. Sorry.”

“It was fuck all.” In his jeans, Ramsay’s cock was throbbing at an uncomfortable angle. He wished he could readjust without drawing attention to his condition.

The kitchen. He strode into the next room, straightened out his idiot cock, and grabbed a glass from the drying rack. It was soothing and normal to pour himself water from the faucet. He drained the glass and put it down on the counter.

Someone came up behind him. Saya, coming to see how he was, no doubt. He drew a breath and turned just as the person slammed into him, knocking him against the counter. Damn it – the guy just didn’t give up. Adrenaline sang through him. The little bastard needed to learn some fucking respect. He wrestled Mack down into a kneeling position then forced his forehead to the floor – his own body covering Mack’s and his hard-on pressed against his ass. Mack grunted and tried to get free, but Ramsay had both wrists pinned behind his back, shoving them upward.

“This stops now,” he growled low to Mack, hoping the girls didn’t hear it. “If you come at me again I’m going to make you suck my dick. Do you understand me, you little bitch?”

Beneath him Mack shuddered and went still. Ramsay dry humped the guy’s ass a few times then let him go. They both got to their feet and stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“You win,” Mack whispered, pushing his hair out of his eyes. The purple teeth marks on his shoulder stood out in sharp contrast to his very white skin. He was trembling. “I think I need a drink. You?”

The last thing Ramsay wanted was a drink. He just needed to fuck someone hard. Grabbing Saya and running for the door was just going to make this weirder. They’d clicked so well when they were jamming that he didn’t want to lose that hope over this...weirdness. All he could do was pretend this never happened.

There was, however, this niggling feeling he had that if he touched Mack right now, things would get naked fast.

“Make mine a double.”

Now available on Amazon, Smashwords and All Romance.

Monday, 31 March 2014

Ein - a fantasy novel

My first solo novel, Ein, is a fantasy novel about a mid-caste girl whose life is turned on its ear. As Einan is reaching the end of her religious education she is confronted with the choice of what to do with her future. Before she can decide, Einan is mistaken for someone else and kidnapped.
Ein is a story about motherhood, love, the struggle between good and evil, and the ongoing sexual lives of women after becoming parents.

Genre: Fantasy. Erotic scenes.

In love with a girl from school and the man hired to torture her, Einan is sent reeling when she thinks them dead. Destitute, she finds herself responsible for protecting children left uncared for in the wake of the Cedesian War.

Poor children are disappearing all over the city. While struggling to keep them safe, Ein accidentally sparks a rebellion. Will love find her again in the chaos, or will she die a martyr?

Warning: Dark themes, kink.


I awoke to noise and light. Voices barked words I didn’t understand. Rough hands forced me into a wooden chair and I was bound with ropes that cut into my skin. I shut my mouth hard as bile rose.
Pale men were everywhere – six...eight? I shook with fear and the residual cold from outdoors. Cedesians. Tales of their dark magic rose to mind, unbidden. I caught a stray fume of the drug they had used on me and I gagged. Twice I swallowed back the foul mess, but then I lost control and vomited, mostly missing my clothing but making a mess of the floor. Several men cried out in disgust. A blow connected and my head snapped to the side. I whimpered my fear and pain. My usual bravery had been left in Seraiya’s bed. Seraiya. The memory of hearing her cry out made my heart falter.

What did they want from me? I focused on the sea of middle-aged men with milky skin and yellow hair. They wore the nose rings of Cedesian soldiers. All of them regarded me with hard-eyed glares that threatened brutality. Young girls, alone, got raped – that’s what my mother had taught me. They weren’t looking at me like that though, were they? How would I know?

In contrast to the frightening men, the room was cozy, with pretty carpeting and fine décor. It made for an unlikely prison and reminded me of the home where I had grown up, before the trading routes became complicated. A fire crackled in the nearby hearth and a tidy kitchen was visible from where I was tied. Although the room was obviously the living quarters of a modestly affluent family, its conventionality made the situation more sinister. Like evil had found me in my own house. I could imagine a tidy housewife being surprised to find us in her sitting room.

Would they avoid making me bleed, to spare the carpeting? I stifled a sick laugh.

The odor of the drug swept over me again, making my stomach roil. I drifted in and out of consciousness as the men took turns yelling at me.

Yoel, help me.

Through the haze I vaguely recall babbling that I didn’t understand them – that I wasn’t trying to be difficult. The ropes hurt. The fog was lifting. I began to imagine the ways they would kill me. I gave up trying to communicate and stared at the candleholder that hung from the ceiling above me. Not a trace of dust. The candles were burning low and hot wax dripped on my face and shoulders from time to time. The noise eventually stopped. There was a commotion that sounded like a door opening and greetings in Cedez. I knew that much of the language, at least.

So tired. I gathered some energy and hazarded a glance. A young man I had not yet seen was staring down at me with amused eyes. His dark brown hair and rosy complexion gave me hope that this one, at least, would speak proper Gutrian.

“Hello, little one,” he drawled, smiling slowly.

Stupidly, I was so relieved that he spoke my language, I almost smiled back at him. Almost.
My world burst in a blaze of stars – he’d slapped me. My face burned. When he followed the slap with untying me, fear tightened my limbs. A cruel hand tangled in my hair, he yanked me to my feet and dragged me through the house and down a set of stairs.

The candle he’d brought revealed a cellar. However, instead of food stores, there was only a low table and chair, and an old mattress against the wall.

Before I had a chance to gather my wits, he’d rebound my wrists and attached the rope to a hook in the ceiling. The wide sleeves of my nightshirt pooled around my shoulders. In consternation I realized that in this position the hem of the shirt barely covered my bottom. I felt horribly vulnerable, nauseous and cold. I couldn’t think of a way to get free. My arms and face hurt. A large number of the men had crowded into the room, their cold eyes trained on me. There was a pitiful whimpering in the room, and I clamped my jaws shut when I realized it was me.

The Gutrian man looked surprised I’d stopped.

Knowing it was futile, I tugged at the ropes as though they might give way. My bare feet were aching with the cold oozing up from dirt floor and I shifted from foot to foot, trying to get warm. The men had stopped addressing me, but spoke animatedly among themselves. I wished I knew what they were saying, or maybe I was better off not knowing.

After at least an hour, exhausted, I began to hang painfully from my arms as long as I could to rest my legs. I let my head hang down, tangled hair obscuring my vision. I prayed to Yoel, even knowing that there were likely many people that needed Her more, right then. I was too tired to be unselfish. Tears leaked from my eyes, and streamed down my cheeks to dribble onto my neck.

What felt like hours after that, the tenor of the voices changed then quieted. A big hand came to my hair and jerked my head back. I squeezed my eyes closed and thought a silent prayer as I cowered from a blow...that never landed. I peeked.

The young man who had slapped me was studying me. The others had left the room. We were almost of an age. I avoided his eyes, looking instead at his chest. He was a powerfully built man with a stocky frame, about a head taller than me if we both stood flat-footed. His presence and air of command made him seem much larger. How dare he try to intimidate a small, helpless girl? Men like this were what was wrong with Gutria. I glared at him. His expression moved quickly from cold detachment to bemusement. Then his impersonal mask fell back into place and he gave his head a vague shake.

What was I doing? Stupid. This wasn’t a game. This man could rape or murder me, or both. I regarded him again from the veil of my lashes, shrinking back as far as my hair in his grasped allowed.

He asked me a question in a big, growling voice. His bright blue eyes were piercing. Heat emanated from his body. This was the closest I’d ever been to a strange man and I wasn’t decent. Handsome wasn’t a quality I would have wished for in a captor. It was confusing. One often thought of evil as being ugly. Beautiful evil was almost an affront to every story I’d been told as a child. I could tell he was used to menacing people. I tried to ignore the stirring of arousal – what was wrong with me? There was no saying what he might do. We were alone.

I shivered.

“I don’t understand you,” I whispered.

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Kissing: Old School Kink

The first time two people kiss is usually memorable. Sometimes it’s awkward, sometimes magical... and if you’re lucky, it’s damn hot. With any luck, it also doesn’t involve being walked in on by parents, small children, ex-spouses or members of law enforcement.

Kissing is a lost art, in some ways.

Over the years, as North American society has become more sexualized, kissing someone on the mouth seems like no big deal in comparison to other things people openly talk about. How can the mystique of a kiss compare to Ten Top Blow Job Techniques That Will Drive Him Wild? 

As a kid I remember agonizing about where I was supposed to put my nose if someone ever kissed me – little did I realize that with a nose as small as mine, it’s a non-issue. Now I’m not sure what young girls wonder about, in terms of sexual expression, but kissing probably isn’t even on the radar.
To me a kiss, in some ways, is more intimate than sex. You’re in the person’s face, breathing their air, tasting their gum. It’s hard for a kiss to be impersonal, if it’s done right. It can mean the difference between a quick fuck and an emotional connection that inspires you to do great things. Maybe, if you’re lucky, it helps you find extra meaning in your daily life.

As a writer, I tend to give a lot of attention to kissing and eye contact – because I’m kinky like that.

Excerpt from The Dom with the Sex Zombies by Sorcha Black - Spring 2014:

Her gaze roved back up to Winter’s bottom lip and the two rings there. The stainless metal piercing the soft flesh was a sensual violence that kept drawing her eye. Up close she saw small circular scars here and there on Winter’s face, where other piercings had healed over. Now there was only the two in her bottom lip, her septum and one eyebrow pierced. She’d had more metal at some point.

“What are you looking at?” Winter smirked.

Before she could stop herself, Saya reached out and brushed a finger over a few of the other girl’s tiny piercing scars then realized what she’d done and wrapped the rogue hand back around her glass. “Do you have a lot of scars?”

Winter didn’t look angry, instead her body had thrummed with tension under Saya’s hand. “A few. More piercings than scars though.” Her voice deepened and she inched closer. “I don’t think you’re prepared to see them.”

“No?” Saya whispered. “Why not? Are they really extensive, or... just in sensitive areas?”

She was closer yet, their faces almost touching and her breath tickling Saya’s cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Saya couldn’t think of anything to respond with, so she just stared back into Winter’s eyes, the pale, eerie blue seeming to see right through her.

“You’re very pretty.” Winter’s voice was hushed, hypnotizing. Have you ever kissed a girl, Saya?”

She shook her head minutely. “No.”

Winter leaned toward her and in a panicked moment Saya tried to move back. A familiar hand tangled into her hair and gripped her firmly, the dominance of it making her nipples instantly hard.

“Stay,” Ramsay growled.

Wednesday, 25 September 2013

The First Pitch

In my jeans and tank top, gargoyle tattoos hanging out, mohawked hair and with my hastily scribbled notes clutched in my sweaty hands, I went to my first pitch appointment with an editor of a big publishing company. I was ill prepared. I’d had just left a pitch workshop an hour earlier and heard the stellar pitches given by well-prepared women in snappy business suits. The message I’d gotten from the workshop was dress well, be professional. Um... zero for two. The rest of the information didn’t get past the loud ringing that developed in my ears.

Why had I signed up for something so stressful?

Oh wait... I hadn’t.

Leia Shaw, one of my writing partners-in-crime, had signed me up without my knowledge and was urging me to try, even though I had no idea how to explain my book. Apparently self-deprecating humor isn’t acceptable pitch fodder, so I just stuck to trying to explain what it was about in my notes.
I was directed into the room, trembling and short of breath, and directed to sit across from an elegant young woman who was probably fifteen years my junior. She smiled kindly, probably hoping I didn’t pass out on her table or throw up in her lap.
I was introduced by name.


My name was my big opening line – I had nothing else prepared!

I’m um-ed for a moment then repeated my name like an idiot parrot, since deviating from my notes had made me stall. I read them to her at light speed, desperately trying to slow down and failing miserably. She nodded sympathetically a few times and I was glad she didn’t look completely terrified of me, at least. I had the feeling that I was coming off a little – intense.
When I finally slid to a halt at the end of my spiel, she paused a moment and asked if there were any sexy bits in the book.

Um... had I neglected to mention that the book was erotic bdsm lgbt polyamorous during the hot bits? Oops. I got through that short explanation, and her smile broadened. She gave me her card. The company had a new digital imprint that was willing to take risks on cross-genre and edgy books, and she would be happy to see the first fifty pages whenever it was ready.

I stammered my thanks and staggered out of the room (trying to look composed and nonchalant), clutching her business card. Leia was waiting for me outside the door, grinning, and she admitted she’d been eavesdropping.

Even if this contact goes nowhere, or I decide to self-publish this one, too, it was an interesting experience. Because it had a relatively positive outcome (although I know most people who pitch get a similar response) I didn’t have to spank my co-author for signing me up. Although if I *had* gone to the other pitch she signed me up for with the editor looking for inspirational romance...