Pain Slut (The Subs Club book #2) by @jarockauthor virtual tour | Spotlight, Excerpt & Giveaway { @RiptideBooks | @TTCBooksandmore }

Hi! I’m J.A. Rock, and right now I’m touring the internet talking about my latest release Pain Slut—Book 2 in The Subs Club series. Thanks so much to the blogs that are hosting me on this tour, and be sure to leave comments on the tour posts for a chance to win your choice of two backlist ebooks and a $10 Amazon gift card!

Honestly, I’m ready to take a step back from the Subs Club. Making the kink world a safer place for subs is the sort of bandwagon I’d have boarded as an idealist in my early twenties, but now I’m a pragmatist in my late twenties. I prefer to focus on adopting and raising a child.

But unexpected factors inevitably derail my plans. Like Drix Seger—attractive and the first genuine sadist I’ve encountered. If I were not in the process of renouncing my masochistic ways and becoming the normal, responsible potential father the adoption agency wants to see, Drix and I might do well together. But he has a foolish name and belongs to a cult of vampyres, and I am quitting kink. So why does Drix’s infatuation with blood and biting make me so hot I can’t think straight? And why, when he looks at me, does he seem to see something beyond a basket case with a stick up my ass?

Can I start a new phase in my life without leaving part of myself behind? Please send help.

—Miles

           

About the Subs Club series

After the death of their friend Hal at the hands of an irresponsible dom, submissive friends Dave, Kamen, Miles, and Gould band together to form the Subs Club—an organization seeking to expose dangerous local doms. The club slowly evolves as romances blossom, loyalties are tested, and tensions mount in a community already struggling for unity in the wake of Hal’s death.

From domestic discipline to knife play to fashion paraphilia, and from family drama to new jobs to first loves, the members of the Subs Club explore life’s kinks inside and outside of the bedroom as they attempt to let go of the past and move forward.

Excerpt...

Chapter One

I was lying in dishabille on a steel exam table, my feet in a pair of stirrups, a hypodermic needle on a stand beside me—when my phone buzzed.

And kept buzzing.

My wrists were cuffed to the table, so I called to Bowser, who was sterilizing a scalpel over by the sink. “Can you hand me my phone?”

Bowser turned. Under his white lab coat, he wore a THE DOCTOR IS IN tee I’d given him years ago. “Now?”

“I’m expecting an important call.” Mind fogged. Wrists sore. Rubber tubing tied tight around my balls. How I thought I’d be able to carry on a phone conversation in this state, je ne savais pas.

Bowser crossed the room and retrieved the phone from my messenger bag. Glanced at the screen as he approached me. “Not a call. Texts.”

A moment of prodigious disappointment. Not the Beacon Center, then.

“Could you show me, please?” My voice was brusque, demanding. I felt slightly guilty about it.

He tried to swipe with a gloved finger, but the latex caught on the screen. He peeled off the glove with a snap that made my balls tighten. Then he swiped again and showed me the screen.

The texts were all from Kamen.

Dude were hangin at Dave’s to talk Hal’s b-day.

Hey do u still have my windbreaker?

Also, do you ever think about what if Barack Obama was clones?

I sighed and looked away, focusing on the jacaranda-blue wall of Bowser’s office. The sharps container mounted on it. I stared at the biohazard symbol. “You can put it back.” If my hands had been free, I’d have given a dismissive wave. To the manor born, my mother always said.

And she was one to talk.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Bowser take my phone back and set it on my bag. He returned to the counter and pulled on a new glove. Placed the scalpel on a plastic tray with other medical tools, then took the tray to a minifridge in the corner and popped it inside. Went back to the counter, where he began warming a bag of saline solution with a hot plate. “Not what you were expecting?” he asked.

I studied the wall again. I’d first set foot in this room seven years ago. I’d been so nervous that I’d focused on figuring out what color the wall was. Not royal blue. Not blue-violet. “Just my friends. Who know I’m busy this afternoon.”

I turned my gaze to the ceiling, trying to revert to the correct headspace. But now my mind was racing. The Beacon Center should have called by now. And Hal’s birthday—really? Why were we celebrating a dead man’s birthday?

“I liked that speech your friend Dave made a while back. At the roundtable.”

“Ah, yes.”

Bowser and I didn’t usually make small talk when we played together. It was still strange to think we’d once been fairly close. Back when I was twenty-one and endlessly enthused about kink. The past seven years had lent no small measure of tedium to deviance.

He brought the clear bag of saline solution over to the exam table and hooked it to an IV stand near my left shoulder. “I actually think it’s cool—the Subs Club. Even the review thing. I don’t know why so many people were upset about it.”

I tensed, trying not to recall that the last top who had brought up the Subs Club while I was tied down had held a knife to my face. And not in a fun way.

The Subs Club was an organization my friends Dave, Kamen, and Gould and I had started a couple of months ago. What had begun as an attempt to give submissives a private place to discuss safety concerns in the kink community had spiraled out of control when subs started posting reviews of individual doms on the Subs Club blog. In theory, this was advantageous—it let members call out “doms” who had abused or raped them in the past, and warn other members to stay away. And it let doms who were truly outstanding have their positive traits held up as paradigms.

We’d actually had a great deal of support. But our detractors had grown vocal, perhaps understandably so. In a way, the review blog had been a gross violation of privacy, despite the care we’d taken to only use doms’ scene names. Eventually we’d reached a compromise with the community leaders—we would remove the review portion of the blog and focus instead on leading community roundtable discussions once a month at Riddle, a local dungeon. So far, it was working out fairly well.

I pulled against the cuffs again, enjoying the feel. “Are you just saying that because you had such good reviews?”

“Did I?” Bowser shook the tubing to unkink it.

I almost rolled my eyes at his attempt to be casual. Despite the Subs Club blog having a log-in system that prevented nonmembers—i.e., doms—from viewing it, plenty of doms had seen or at least heard about their reviews. “You know you did. Everyone loves you.”

He grinned. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

Ah, but he was a filthy sweetheart. Dave always said he looked like a Viking, with his stout body, ginger beard, and wide nose. And it was Kamen who’d first pointed out that his laugh sounded exactly like Bowser’s in Super Mario 64. Now pretty much everyone in the scene called him Bowser, and he was a good sport about it.

He picked up the prepackaged IV needle from the stand. “You sure you want to go through with this? If you’re expecting an important call?”

“Of course.” I flexed my fingers and pulled against the restraints until the cuffs bit into my wrists. My cock rose at the sight of the needle. My tied-off balls were slightly numb.

He unwrapped the needle. “And you’re sure you’re okay with at least twenty-four hours of this?”

Once the saline was in, it would be a day, maybe two before the swelling went down. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“All right. Lookin’ forward to seeing how you do with the infusion as opposed to the injection.”

“Me too.” I settled back against the table.

Last time we’d done a saline infusion, Bowser had injected the solution into me. The results had been a general lumpiness to my scrotum that had faded fast. This time we were going to try an IV drip, which we hoped would create a more symmetrical and sustainable swelling. He’d tied off my balls to prevent the solution from getting absorbed too quickly into the rest of my body.

Bowser attached the needle to the tubing and let the solution flow for a few seconds to get all the air out of the tube. With his other hand, he flipped open a bottle of Betadine and pressed a cotton ball to the opening. Tipped the bottle, dousing the cotton ball, then quickly swabbed the center of my scrotum. He let that dry, then used an alcohol pad to swab the area again. I tried not to flinch. No matter how many times I played with needles, there was always something disconcerting about them.

I was the only pain slut in my group of friends. I’d met a couple of others at Riddle, but I remained the most masochistic person I knew. I wanted it all—burning, cutting, piercing, choking, you name it. I wanted to scream, to bleed, and come out the other side feeling shaken and unsure and powerful all at once. I wanted someone to take me to that place, push me beyond what I thought I could endure.

And yet, perhaps foolishly, I wanted it done with love.

“Hold still.” Bowser lifted my balls and deftly inserted the needle under the skin. I breathed through the sting, which was somehow harder to take than many of the worst whippings I’d ever received.

At first I didn’t feel much of anything. But slowly the warm liquid spread, and my sac tightened. The tip of my cock smeared pre-cum over my belly, and my hands balled into fists.

Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over me.

I wasn’t supposed to be doing this. I was supposed to have given up kink weeks ago. Months ago. And yet here I was, playing doctor with Bowser.

“How’s that feel?” He stroked my swelling balls with one finger.

I trembled, my jaw clenching. I was so sensitive I could have come just from that gentle touch.

What kind of father are you going to make?

“Miles?” Bowser looked concerned.

I nodded, reminding myself to breathe deeply. I shifted as the weight of my balls increased. My legs weren’t cuffed, and I had to struggle to keep my feet in the stirrups. I wanted to press my legs together, do something to lessen the discomfort of being here, completely exposed, with my balls gradually expanding.

Read the entire excerpt and learn more about this series or the Author at Riptide Publishing.

J.A. Rock is the author of queer romance and suspense novels, including BY HIS RULES, TAKE THE LONG WAY HOME, and, with Lisa Henry, THE GOOD BOY and WHEN ALL THE WORLD SLEEPS. She holds an MFA in creative writing from the University of Alabama and a BA in theater from Case Western Reserve University. J.A. also writes queer fiction and essays under the name Jill Smith. Raised in Ohio and West Virginia, she now lives in Chicago with her dog, Professor Anne Studebaker.

Website: www.jarockauthor.com

Blog: http://jarockauthor.blogspot.com

Twitter: @jarockauthor

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ja.rock.39

Leave a comment for a chance to win your choice of two backlist titles from J.A. Rock and a $10 Amazon gift card. Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on February 6, 2016. Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. Entries. Thanks for following the tour, and don’t forget to leave your contact info!