Erotic Stories from Wylde in Bed - 54: Punishment - Kink Noir Book 2 Chapter reading

Episode Date: April 19, 2021

From the back cover...Denny Bowie thought life would settle down after solving a case of serial murders. But when he gets a call sending him to the door of a Domme who barely escaped being bludgeoned to death, he’s pulled back into New York City’s dark and erotic underbelly.Trying to navigate this new investigation with its violence, randomness, and lack of clues may be the least of his worries: His girlfriend Penny is distant, his boyfriend Erin harbors a terrible secret, and there’s a new nightmare at every turn.If he can’t find a balance, Denny could lose the only two people he’s ever loved, and if he can’t track down the predator targeting Dommes, more ghosts will haunt him – if he survives.Grab Punishment, the sequel to the award-winning hard-boiled thriller, Bloodletting, today!You can grab your copy today from...https://t.co/0CJObvBCMQ?amp=1

Please remember this is an adult's only podcast and does contain some very sensual themes. So please only listen to this podcast if you are happy to explore your deepest sensual fantasies with me and are of a suitable age. I is Devlin and welcome to another wild in bed. Your destination for salacious stories, sensual satisfaction and fingerling. looking good fantasies. Now, tonight, as you enjoy this excerpt reading from a very delicious kink noir, you know you can enjoy even more intense pleasure and endless satisfaction by coming to see me at wild desires.com, where you can test-rise your own fantasies for free.

Now, you know this podcast is best enjoyed laying on your bed. Just loosen any clothing. Put your earbuds in and close your eyes and surrender to the pleasure of my voice, moving over and inside you. And when you're ready to surrender to sensual pleasure, just go ahead and take a deep breath. and hold it for a moment and then release it with a sigh, letting go of any tension, any stress. For the next 13 minutes or so, it's just you in my voice. This is your time, your time to relax, your time for sensuous satisfaction. Your time to release that in a woman.

As you listen to my voice and feel the story moving through your body, As you enjoy tonight's excerpt from Punishment, Kink Noir Book 2 by William D. Pristalk. And before we get into the excerpt, as always I'd like to read you from the sales blurb, just to give you a flavour at that overall book. Denny Bowie thought life would settle down after solving a case of serial murders. But when he gets a call sending him to the door of a dom, who barely escaped being bludgeoned to death, he's pulled back into New York City's dark and erotic underbelly. With its violence, randomness, and lack of clues,

maybe the least of his worries. His girlfriend Penny is distant. His boyfriend, Erin, harbours a terrible secret. And there's a new nightmare at every turn. If he can't find a balance, Denny could lose the only two people he's ever loved. And if he can't track down the predator targeting doms, more ghost will haunt him if he survives. So, without further ado, go on just sit back and relax.

March came in like a fist fuck and went out like a blowjob. But April hadn't bought any showers, to give us those May flowers. Instead, the rain seemed to come every day in the fifth month, like we were on a tropical island, where the sky opened up at the same time each afternoon. As for the flowers, they drowned in the deluge. The dry night presented a war to go to chine,

making some of the lights in Greenwich Village appear cooler than normal, and stepping in puddles from the day, created temporary abstract art. But no one really gazed at their feet anymore because their heads were buried in their phones. I stopped for a second and watched the ripples of green, red, blue and yellow,

expand and contract in tiny waves around my engineer boots before moving on. All day I had the strangler's song, No Mercy, ear-worming on a perpetual loop in my brain, so I donned their pumpkin-colored tea. The tune's alternate pop music contrasted with dark lyrics about how good things could end in a millisecond, how hardship could continue, and how to count yourself lucky if your dreams came true. But the more I listened to the song over the years,

the more I realized it was laughing in the face of bad shit, instead of wallowing, in it, which put a little smile on my face, at least for now. The red brick apartment building on Avenue C, right off fifth, loomed a few blocks from my place. I checked the list of numbers at a door next to MNW nail, found the right one, and hit the button. If no one answered, I could try and get up the fire escape. Click. The voice came over like a loud whisper from a freaked out man. Denny Bowie? Yeah.

Buzz. The place reeked of age, neat and clean, but a bit darker from muddy walls, which created a sense of atmosphere calling me forward. I took the elevator and checked the floor for blood, or some other clue, but didn't see a thing. On the third floor, I headed towards the only apartment with the door crack. opened in a tentative welcome. The inside light bolt out the best of the brown carpet in the dimly lit hallway.

I gave a little tap and pushed the door in all the way, defying Connojito Verde, a lanky emo Mexican kid, who seemed too thin to fill out skinny jeans. He'd been crying, and his face changed from a grimace to a snow, A wave of black hair hung in front of his dark eyes. Like a wild devilock, Lady Cinnamon was worse. Far worse, she had the bottom end of her high-necked emerald gown, twisted in her white fist,

while her other hand held an ice-pack against her left cheek. Tears poured out of her good eye, the rest of her face swollen and flushed. Cinnamon peered down, and away as if she'd find some peace in the tiles below her. Let me see, I said. With some reluctance, she let me take her shaky hand and pull the pack away. Ice or not.

Her left side had ballooned out, and her eye had swollen shut. A cut along her cheekbone ran long and wide, exposing blue muscle. And I let her bring the ice to her face again to slow the bloodletting. Crimson stained the front of her gown, and the blood spatter had left its mark on the wall and the floor. Smeared by her collapse, when I adjusted my footing, something crunched beneath my boot. A quick twist revealed one of the several teeth on the floor. Lady Cinnamon, I whispered. Did you go unconscious?

Yes. The word came thick and mouth. formed from tight lips. I wanted to tell her to shake her head or nod, but she needed to stay still. And with the way her eyes teared and darted at times, I doubt she could blink once for yes or twice for no. Did you see the guy?

She gave me a slight headshake and winced. I thought for a second about how this wasn't going to go anywhere, but lust erupted in a torrent for something better than the boring ship. I already did turn a living. I can do this. Just give me the okay. Okay. Came in two other worldly syllables.

I had a new client. I got up a motion to Connishito, who made me feel twice as big and twice as strong. The ice pack isn't going to do shit. You have to get your mistress to a hospital. He stuttered but couldn't form words. The blood on the wall caught my attention, and I gently pulled cinnamon's head away from the shattered plaster, making sure her neck and head were in line with the movement.

The wall had an indent matching the back of her bloody skull. Call right fucking now! Kanagito cried out, trembled in hard waves and punched in the numbers. He probably hadn't called an ambulance because who wants to expect the worst? No. She only took a heavy hit or two, unlike a bad Hollywood action flick. She'd shake it off and be fine in the morning. I took the ice pack from Cinnamon's shaky hand and put it behind her head. Lean back and relax. But don't go to sleep.

As he spoke to a dispatcher, struggling to get out every word, I slipped on my gloves. I took pictures of cinnamon in the front door. Conagito and his mistress were in the equivalent of a foyer with a tall plant and a couple of plush wine and gold chairs. Beyond Conagito stood a desk and some turquoise, IKEA-style lockers without locks. They were empty. The gold tones of the desk matched the gold of the chairs, and overturned lockbox rested on a blotter. How much did he get?

I called out. Conagito got off the phone and ran his fingers through that torrent of black hair, as he looked at his mistress, without an idea of what the fuck to do. I took more pictures and ran my eyes over the rest of the desk. All the drawers had been pulled out, but bottles of high-end spirits had been left alone, as well as cinnamon's purse. A thousand, fifteen hundred maybe. I heard sirens in the distance and knew I had no time.

The AMTs might bring a cop, and New York's finest and I were best kept separated. I ducked into the next room, the play area, and took a couple of shots, also taking note of a hint of lavender in the air. When I got back to Konasito, he was sitting next to cinnamon with his head against the better side of her face.

He held onto her white-knuckled fist and sniffed back tears. His eyes were shut and she was out and limp. Cinnamon's breath came slow and shallow, and her left eye had swelled even more. I put my hand on his shoulder and handed off her purse. Stay with her. They'll let you sleep at the hospital. Tell them you're her fiancé,

not her submissive. We'll talk tomorrow. He gave some sort of nod. When the lights from the ambulance started bouncing off the walls, I stood up. I wanted to say something, but any words would have come off as stupid and meaningless. I'm sure he feared cinnamon would die

even before the EMTs arrived. I did too, but I had to go. The elevator dinged as the stairway door shut. behind me. I didn't move quickly but walked down the opposite side of the rail and took slow, soft steps so the sound of my boots wouldn't echo off the walls. I found some blood droplets on the stairs, far apart, which meant the robber had run fast. On the second floor landing, I smelled the remains of pepper spray. I clamped my eyes shut and brought the color of my t-shirt

above my nose. As I moved to the next set of steps, I opened my eyes enough to catch a glint of something, getting low. I found a broken gold necklace, real 24K, and on the chain, an inverted pentagram with long strands of hot orange air tangled around it. I took a couple of shots and kept on moving. When NYPD showed up, they'd take it in. to evidence. I had to find that woman. Yeah. This is dark. It's different. It's a noir

detective novel with an erotic twist. You may have heard that I've done a couple of excerpts from Kink's Noir already around social media. William D. Priestout gives us a really good. It's a different angle on erotica that you don't normally get, a very

intelligent one. And it is it's something different, so I'd highly recommend. But that's just me. The buy links are all in this episode's notes. Now, on Friday, behind the mic starts. Now, I'm not sure how this is going to go. This is going to be very ad hoc.

I'm basically giving you an insight into my work and what I do in the recording studio and everywhere else that affects the audios as I go. So it will be, as I create, you'll be there with me. I hope. I hope it works. But let's try. It's an experiment.

It's fun. You've got to experiment sometime, don't you? Now next week, we have a new story, we do. And some exciting news, which hopefully shall be in place by next week. I'm saying exciting news, but it might just be a coming soon. but we'll see, we'll see, we'll see what we come up with. But for now, and always with your pleasure in mind, this is Devlin Wilde, wishing you salacious dreams.

As you have enjoyed this show this evening, you can go ahead and subscribe to my podcast so you don't miss another salacious episode. And you know you can go ahead and visit me at wilddesires.com and grab your own free experiential erotic story just for coming