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eBook Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
eBook Description: Nipple clamps may not be standard equipment for all couples, but in this smokin' hot Toy Box, they take center stage. In Dildos, Floggers and Nipple Clamps, Oh My by Vic Winter, Jamie and Derek are two young lovers in a sex shop for the first time. When they knock over a display and stuff anything in their cart just to get out of there, they find nipple clamps very useful. In Disciplinary Measures by Mychael Black Dennis is a office drone by day, and a kinkster by night. When his boss calls him out for being late after a really good night at him with his toys, Dennis thinks he might just have found the top he's looking for. And in A Secret Vice by Syd McGinley, Dr. Fell is back. It's August and he just has the one boy staying with him--Tommy. When Dr. Fell reminds himself how good nipple play can be, Tommy catches him at it. Will Dr. Fell be able to turn his pleasure into a lesson? Hotter than hot!

eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Toy Box, Published: http://www.torquerepress.com, 2008
Fictionwise Release Date: May 2008

37 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [47 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [111 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [32 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [295 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [34 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [119 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [104 KB] , hiebook (KML) [123 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [91 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [28 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [36 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [89 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [52 KB]
Words: 10526
Reading time: 30-42 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 160370342X

A Secret Vice

By Syd McGinley

Set in the summer before Samhain and Sol Invictus.

August is more bearable here in the woods than in town, and it's been pleasant having Tommy stay. Well, pleasant for me. July was possibly the worst month of his life, but he's settled down nicely. He still has bursts of go-go-boy behavior, but more often than not, I know he's doing it to provoke a spanking. He's less frenetic now than he was when we agreed to a six-month contract in June.

He still sings a lot and I can tolerate it, so long as he stays away from anything too damn freeform. I can't bear improvised music. Ben claims it's a flaw in me that I can't appreciate jazz. I say it's because I have an aesthetic sensibility. We nearly had a physical fight once in college when he played his damn Lionel Hampton twiddling around on the vibraphone one too many times, but it was like being trapped in a hellbound elevator as far as I was concerned.

Twink insists I don't like any music, but that's just because I told him his techno didn't count as music at all. I like my Goldberg variations just fine thank you. Glenn Gould. But belted-out show tunes and melismatic dreck make my ears itch. Twink also claims I only have a wind-up gramophone and listen to Caruso on it, but he was just on one of his 'Dr. Fell is a Luddite' riffs. He knows damn well I have an iPod because he and Ben gave it to me for my birthday. Pre-loaded with some Purcell and Monteverdi, as well as a heap of Scarlatti, Bach, and Mozart. Ben said he nearly added Charlie Parker and Miles Davis, but forbore since it was my birthday. Twink popped his eyes innocently and said, "but Ben, you said now Dr F was thirty he was too old to change his ways." Twink ran off squealing into the party at that point, but I remembered it for later and so did Ben.

Ben grins at me. "John, you'll have to let the boys know you can sing one day."

"No, I don't. And if you tell them about the Renaissance music group, I will kill you," I say calmly.

"You have a good baritone." Ben is completely unfazed. "And those fucking lutes, dude they twiddle away more annoyingly than any of my jazz possibly can."

"One semester, asshole. One semester of standing in for the usual baritone."

"The countertenor was cute," says Ben.

I grunt. He was, but I'd also met Rob that semester and I'd never bothered to pick up the countertenor's hints.

"Madrigal," mouthed Ben later when he wanted me to back off about the boys being allowed to go midnight skinny-dipping in the creek. And I did. I didn't doubt he'd squeal on me, the bastard.

I sigh and stick my head back under the sink. What a time for the plumbing to start acting up. The laundry room drains outside to a barrel so we can use the gray water in the garden, but the kitchen is screwed. It stinks in this heat, too. Tommy is hanging the wash outside. I don't allow dryer use in the summer--what's the point of wasting power when it's ninety outside and there are no neighbors to be pissy about a washing line? He's in shorts and is fighting the sheets onto the line, but he's happy--I hear him singing something from Chicago.

Tommy has sworn up and down that he hasn't let anything stupid go down the pipes and sighed when I reminded him that we don't have city plumbing.

"Honest, sir," he said. "I scraped all the plates into either the trash or the compost--nothing down the sink."

I believe him. He's a pretty good little housekeeper. He didn't need much training there at all--just to my preferences rather than from scratch like twink. He's needed plenty of discipline training so he's not really benefited from his abilities on balance. His ass is just as bruised as twink's ever was.