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Better than Fifty Shades February
Feb. 8th, 2015 02:07 pmPresent tense is one of my biggest pet peeves in writing. My publishing house will not take a work done in present tense.
And yet...
It was always tolerable for Syd McGinley's![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sydmcginley work.
Her Dr.Fell series is one of the hottest ever. I even have a Dr. Fell coffee mug.
John Fell is a strict dom, who serves the local community as a pet-sitter and extra trainer. His own boy, Rob, was murdered years ago, and he hasn't taken another.
The stories have been collected into three paperbacks now.
Buy link
~~~
A scene that has stuck with me from "Samhain."
Right on cue, I hear Dexter squeak and Laurie drop a cup.
“He tried to hex me,” taunts Laurie. “Pagan-boy thinks he made me break the cup.”
Dexter sits with his mouth open. The light has gone from his eyes. I pat his wrist as I pass by on my way to Laurie.
“Carry on, Dexter. You’re fine.”
He holds out his hand in mute rebuttal – his finger is bleeding and that’s why he squeaked. I summon twink to first aid duty – it’s just a puncture from a sharp twig – and Dexter doesn’t need physical comfort. He needs to see his tormentor suffer some retribution.
Laurie has a stupidly triumphant look on his face, as if he’s got what he wanted – me mad and Dexter squashed.
I snatch up a handful of discarded sage branches, and march Laurie out to the porch. I bend him over the railing and thrash his ass. He howls and pleads in no time under the switching he gets from the rough twigs. I’m pissed, and I don’t care that his butt is bleeding from dozens of scratches. It’s not the erotic D/s scene he’d dreamed about – it’s real punishment and he hates it. When I stop, he’s mewling and sniffling. His ass is a mess. I holler for twink to come out with hot water, antiseptic, and tweezers. I feel a hair bad about the slivers, but not really when I see Dexter’s crushed spirit.
I sit down at the kitchen table with Dexter and gamely make a smudge stick. I induce him to explain why he needs to bury apples tomorrow. His light is still dimmed, but he’s smiling a little by the time he’s taught me to braid stalks together before tying them up.
“Why are you being so nice?” he ventures.
I raise my eyebrows. “Well, I can stop if you like.” I’m pleased that he dares a giggle. “Boy,
training isn’t just punishments. It’s making you into the best boy you can be. I can’t whip what you need into you.” He smiles properly for the first time, and reaches over to correct my miss-bundle. His hands are
sure as he does it. “You can plant my garlic tomorrow.”
He looks a little surprised. “You have some already?”
I laugh. “I planned the crop to go in next week, but if Samhain is the right day, then you can do it
for me.”
And yet...
It was always tolerable for Syd McGinley's
sydmcginley work.Her Dr.Fell series is one of the hottest ever. I even have a Dr. Fell coffee mug.
John Fell is a strict dom, who serves the local community as a pet-sitter and extra trainer. His own boy, Rob, was murdered years ago, and he hasn't taken another.
The stories have been collected into three paperbacks now.
Buy link
~~~
A scene that has stuck with me from "Samhain."
Right on cue, I hear Dexter squeak and Laurie drop a cup.
“He tried to hex me,” taunts Laurie. “Pagan-boy thinks he made me break the cup.”
Dexter sits with his mouth open. The light has gone from his eyes. I pat his wrist as I pass by on my way to Laurie.
“Carry on, Dexter. You’re fine.”
He holds out his hand in mute rebuttal – his finger is bleeding and that’s why he squeaked. I summon twink to first aid duty – it’s just a puncture from a sharp twig – and Dexter doesn’t need physical comfort. He needs to see his tormentor suffer some retribution.
Laurie has a stupidly triumphant look on his face, as if he’s got what he wanted – me mad and Dexter squashed.
I snatch up a handful of discarded sage branches, and march Laurie out to the porch. I bend him over the railing and thrash his ass. He howls and pleads in no time under the switching he gets from the rough twigs. I’m pissed, and I don’t care that his butt is bleeding from dozens of scratches. It’s not the erotic D/s scene he’d dreamed about – it’s real punishment and he hates it. When I stop, he’s mewling and sniffling. His ass is a mess. I holler for twink to come out with hot water, antiseptic, and tweezers. I feel a hair bad about the slivers, but not really when I see Dexter’s crushed spirit.
I sit down at the kitchen table with Dexter and gamely make a smudge stick. I induce him to explain why he needs to bury apples tomorrow. His light is still dimmed, but he’s smiling a little by the time he’s taught me to braid stalks together before tying them up.
“Why are you being so nice?” he ventures.
I raise my eyebrows. “Well, I can stop if you like.” I’m pleased that he dares a giggle. “Boy,
training isn’t just punishments. It’s making you into the best boy you can be. I can’t whip what you need into you.” He smiles properly for the first time, and reaches over to correct my miss-bundle. His hands are
sure as he does it. “You can plant my garlic tomorrow.”
He looks a little surprised. “You have some already?”
I laugh. “I planned the crop to go in next week, but if Samhain is the right day, then you can do it
for me.”
