However, I can now reveal that my new novel Corporate Slave will be out this Friday, 2nd November. This is a full-length novel, 80,000 or so words, and you should be in no doubt that it's copper-plated, hard-hitting BDSM all the way through - because the key character, Cassie, ends up a prisoner-slave in a dystopian future where the state had been hollowed out by a series of multinational corporations, and she gets thoroughly used in a variety of private prisons.
That's not where the novel starts, though. She's a sales assistant in a convenience store:
The counter pinged down to zero, the door opened and Marnie slipped from behind it. Naked, of course, and carrying her G-string and top loosely in one hand. She was statuesque, fit from working out and doing weights, with cropped blonde hair and distinctive tattoos—a smiling sun on her left shoulder, an old-school set of entwined roses around her right thigh, and a suggestive, curvy female form in the small of her back, but with a death’s head skull instead of a face. Cassie had never even dared ask if it had any particular significance for her. Marnie was the longest-serving of all the girls at the store, and there was a running joke that her fourth tattoo, a small square of dots midway between her navel and pussy, was actually her security QR code. If she ever forgot her staff entry pass she could just flash her belly to the camera to open the door. Her mere presence could almost intimidate punters into buying stuff, and those who weren’t intimidated bought it anyway because they liked the tattoos.
She nodded at Cassie, a wry professional greeting.
“You’ve got yourself marked up. They’ll like that.”
Cassie looked down. The bruises from the cuffs were plainly visible. And she could work with that, include it in her act. That was another trick of the trade. Marks from rope or chain, or a spanking or a whipping, even a scar from a cut, were all things a lot of the punters liked to see. Little Annie, who worked the night shift, had done a lot of self-harming as a kid. She was nothing to look at physically, almost boyish, but had those thin white scars on her legs, belly, arms. They went wild for her.
It was a sick society.
“Good experience, or not?” Marnie asked. It was a sensible enough question: being cuffed was a common enough part of almost anyone’s sex play these days.
Cassie shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.” She didn’t want to explain the circumstances, the deal, the blow-by-blowjob of it. She changed the subject instead.
“Lorne?” It was worth asking.
Marnie shrugged, a gesture that in her made all kinds of muscles bulge and twitch expressively. “We don’t know. Word is, she got arrested. No one seems to know what for, though.”
Cassie shuddered. Getting arrested wasn’t like the old days, time in a cell and then the judge giving you probation. She’d heard what happened if you got arrested.
It was a sick, dangerous world out there.
The counter above the door gave a shrill buzz.
She was on. Stepped through the door into the plexiglass cubicle, picked up the beat of the piped music, began to dance.
That was business at the 121st Street Convenience and Liquor Store.
You can read some more on the novel and the blurb for the plot over at my other blog, Deliciously Deviant. And look for the novel initially on Pink Flamingo's Eroticbooknetwork website, and thereafter you'll see it rolled out to Amazon and all the other usual online sources. Plus, it will be available as paperback.
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