NSFW Snippet: Behind the Iron Cross

NOTE: if you’re looking for the Evernight Birthday Blog Hop post, it’s here!

Since it’s Tuesday and I’m feeling downright productive, I thought I’d post another snippet from Chapter Two of my novel Behind the Iron Cross (or as I like to call it, “1920’s Berlin, BDSM, and MMF menáges — oh my!”).

The story so far: In 1923, American heiress and secret Domme Katherine “Kat” Tracy and her fiancé/beard Sam Hellman are in Berlin on business and enjoying the city’s decadent nightlife. When they go to the Cupid Club and meet Colonel Friedrich von Bader, a decommissioned German Army officer reluctantly working as a prostitute to support his widowed sister-in-law and ill nephew, the sparks fly…

At the back of the club was a narrow staircase leading to the second floor, and Kat made sure to hold onto the rickety bannister as she picked her way up the stairs. The German was ahead of her, giving her the perfect opportunity to study his ass as he climbed. Taut, muscular globes moved hypnotically under his fitted uniform trousers, and she repressed the urge to lean forward and bite a cheek. She could already imagine them beautifully pink and glowing, the heat rising under her hand.

A burly man guarding the second floor nodded at them when he saw the German’s rose. “Room three is open,” he grunted.

The officer ducked his head in what might have been a nod, and led them to the indicated room. As she entered, Kat had to fight down a giggle. Someone had tried to make the room fit the club’s cherub theme, and painted it in eye-watering shades of pink, red and white. As if that wasn’t enough, they’d also pasted pictures of Cupid, cherubs, and lacy hearts all over the walls in a kind of mad collage.

“Good God,” Sam breathed as he stepped in. “It looks like a valentine card factory exploded in here.”

“It’s certainly unique,” Kat agreed, eyeing the bed. Someone had painted the plain iron bedstead white, and draped it with a worn red velvet bedspread, following the theme of the room. But it looked sturdy enough, and it wasn’t as if she’d be on it.

The German eyed the bedspread with distaste, muttering something under his breath. Without a pause, Kat pulled up two battered wooden chairs from against the wall, positioning them at the bed’s side. “Sit down, Sam. I want to be comfortable for our show.”

Von Bader twitched at that, glaring at her.

Her fingers itched for a crop. But she took her chair, waiting until Sam was seated to pull a cigarette from her evening bag and fit it into the holder. On cue, Sam leaned forward and lit her cigarette, and she took a long, slow drag, watching as the German’s nostrils twitched at the smell. “All right, Colonel,” she announced. “We’re ready.”

He seemed torn between glaring at the bed and them. “I don’t like Americans,” he blurted.

Kat blew a smoke ring. “I’m not all that fond of Germans, either,” she said evenly. “But we paid you, so you’ll do what we ask. Now, do we get a private show or not?”

She watched as a muscle worked in the colonel’s cheek. Finally, he nodded.

“Good. Take off your uniform. Slowly.”

With only a slight hesitation, von Bader’s hand rose to undo the buttons at his throat. He worked his way down to the hem, opening the uniform jacket and carefully sliding it off his shoulders. He paused, looking for a clean place to put it.

“On the bed,” Kat instructed.

He hesitated, but laid the jacket over the foot of the bed. The top of his union suit was now fully visible, the worn cotton showing evidence of much washing and patching.

She sat back, studying the man. She’d expected some softening around his midsection, given that he’d been an officer, but to her surprise his upper body was trim, almost lanky. His arms were muscled, pale skin revealing the faint blue webbing of veins, and his broad shoulders tapered down to a tight, well-defined abdomen. A faint dusting of hair graced his chest, a thin trail leading downwards across the breastbone, under his union suit. She ran the tip of her tongue over her teeth, wondering what that hair led to.

There was only one way to find out. “Now the trousers,” she said.

With the same stiff pride, von Bader toed off his shoes, then unfastened his belt and fly buttons, letting the uniform trousers drop to his ankles. Next was the union suit, pushed down almost defiantly, leaving him nude.

She heard Sam suck in a breath, and was tempted to do the same thing herself. As well as an aristocratic face and the body of a Greek god, their sullen German officer possessed a truly magnificent cock. Still soft, she estimated it to be at least five inches long, the foreskin dangling past the head like a silky sleeve. Large, tight balls and a thatch of dark blond pubic hair provided it with a frame of masculine beauty.

Rigidly, von Bader stepped out of his trousers and underwear, picking everything up and laying it next to the jacket. When he straightened up, his hands twitched once, an automatic reaction to cover his groin, before settling at his sides. “Do I meet with your approval?” he bit out.

From the corner of her eye, Kat saw Sam’s grin. “Oh, yes,” he murmured. “What do you think, Kat?”

She tilted her head to the side, considering. “I think I want him to lie down on the bed,” she said.

After a moment, von Bader bowed his head and obeyed. Stretched out against the worn red velvet spread, his pale skin glowed in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Kat took a contemplative puff of her cigarette, letting it out slowly as she studied him. Skin that fair would bruise beautifully, blue and purple blooms rising under her toys.

“What should I do?” he whispered.

“Touch yourself.”

About nicolacameronwrites

Nicola Cameron has had some interesting adventures in her life -- ask her sometime about dressing up as Tietania, Queen of the Bondage Fairies. When not writing, she wrangles cats, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).

Posted on October 9, 2012, in Behind the Iron Cross, WIP, Writing. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on NSFW Snippet: Behind the Iron Cross.

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