Named and Shamed, is officially out on 15th May! And to celebrate, here are two of the unexpurgated interior illustrations by John LaChatte (the artist formerly known as FM) for you to feast your eyes upon . . . plus a little context:
Vince heard. He looked over his shoulder from the front seat and his eyes widened.
“I’m sorry!” I sobbed, but I didn’t stop. I was sitting in the back of the car frigging myself in public, and I couldn’t stop. I was red with shame — at my exhibitionism, at my helplessness, with the humiliation of what had happened — but my need was only made stronger by my shame. And Vince seemed unable to look away. He was in danger of twisting his neck off his shoulders, the way he was turning in his seat to stare. I spread my thighs and pulled my panties aside to give him a good view of my fingers at play in my glistening pink slit.
“Oh shit,” he said in a strangled voice.
The car slewed suddenly over to the left and shuddered to a halt. Without my seatbelt on I was tipped hard against the driver’s seat. I hardly had enough sense to care.
“You!” said Gail to Vince. “You’re driving!” Then she bundled herself right over the seats into the back with me.
“I’m sorry!” I repeated, hands out of my pants now and raised to beg mercy. “I’m really sorry, Gail!”
“Shush!” she scolded. She reached between my legs. “I said we’d take care of you, Tansy. I meant it.”
“Are you a good girl?” said a voice, as faint and whispery as dry leaves.
“Me? Yes, I’m a good girl.” My breath was condensing on the cold tabletop. “I swept the floor and made up the fire before bed. I washed up.”
“Are you clean? Are you careful? Not lazy, not silly, not dishonest?”
By most standards I reckoned I counted as deeply dirty and reckless, to be honest, but that wasn’t the answer the house-hob was looking for. And at least I don’t think I could be described as workshy.
“Yes,” I lied. “I’m a good girl. A good, sweet girl. Take a look.”
With the lightest of thumps it landed on the table next to me, and I tried not to flinch. Then it hopped onto the small of my back. I thought again of spider monkeys, as long, satiny limbs wrapped around my ass. Tiny hands spread my labia. The sigh of a long exhalation of breath reached my ears. Then the tongue. Wet and slick, slipping down my asscrack from hole to hole.
These are not the rudest pictures in the book, by the way. Some are dirtier. Some (like the ogress) are SCARIER. I only wish I could show you the illustration of Tansy and the Elder Witch's three sons, which I just love . . . But no: you'll have to buy the book for that!
Named and Shamed is my Badass Book. It's wicked, edgy, BDSM stuff, in parts - nothing remotely illegal, but I've dared go places in writing Named and Shamed that I've never been before. Here's the official author foreword I wrote:
"Named and Shamed is an adult fantasy, and demented even by my standards. It includes scenes of threat, unsafe sex, humiliation, abduction, forced orgasm, corporal punishment and doubtfully consensual BDSM. Throughout, I have employed specially-trained stunt characters who can deal with that sort of thing without sustaining physical or mental harm. Named and Shamed is fiction. In real life, sex should be safe, sane and consensual."
You won't find that foreword in the printed book. We had to take it out, in case the trigger words upset online censors. I know that makes NO SENSE, but that's the current climate.
So readers, you're on your own out there. Be careful. Don't look behind you. Yes, that's the sound of something huge and monstrous stalking at your heels. Whatever you do, don't run . . .
Sweetmeats Press : Amazon US (up soon, I hope) : Amazon UK