I’m delighted to welcome Xan West as a guest on the Kinky Brits. I’ve long admired Xan’s writing advice, particularly about writing the ‘other’. When I saw that Show Yourself to Me was being published and was invited to participate in the blog tour to celebrate the launch, I got really excited. If you read the blurb, and the excerpt below from ‘Nervous Boy’, I’m sure you’ll want to grab your own copy:
In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.
Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.
Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.
Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.
This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.
And now, over to Xan with an excerpt…
This excerpt is from one of the first full length stories I wrote about a dozen years ago, “Nervous Boy”. I was a fairly new top at the time, and was excited about a new way to play that I’d recently found. I had fallen hard for rough body play, reveled in the intensity of kicking and punching and body slams, the way I felt in my body when I was doing it, how grounding it was. It created a different kind of connection, I felt, and had all these possibilities. Doing it in public often intensified things, made it particularly juicy, because it was still pretty shocking to people.
That year, I’d played in a lovely dungeon space at the beginning of a kink conference. It was four in the afternoon and there were these lovely cement floors and this gorgeous chain link fence and I gloried in the deep embodiment and connection of a rough body play scene with this boy who often smelled like cookies when the pain got good. A fellow sadist who’d been watching said that he couldn’t take his eyes off us because it felt so raw and violent, like he’d happened upon someone getting beat up in an alley.
So I was in love with rough body play, and had discovered that it often created a sense of pride in the bottom. It felt like the other side of the coin from of the humiliation play I’d also been doing. That concept—of pride play—was so exciting. Instead of moving through humiliation to get to pride (which was also a lovely path), I could instead give the bottom an opportunity to show strength, toughness, and endurance…and get to pride that way?
I was so into it, and wanted to try to capture it in words, what it felt like to me as a top. So I wrote this story, my first one from the top’s point of view. A point of view that I’ve become rather known for, as it’s rather rare in erotic fiction. I set this part of the story at one of the first dungeons I ever went to in San Francisco, with a dream of a space that was made for this sort of play. I have great affection for this story, because it is the first I wrote about topping, and is full of the newness and excitement of that.
So here is a taste of my first descriptions of pride play. I hope you enjoy it.
Excerpt from “Nervous Boy”
I pull him to the side of the room right by the door. The chain link fence demarcates this space for voyeurs. And I hope there will be voyeurs. I want to feed off the crowd. Pull their energy into me for use. I want this witnessed. There is a bench. And a wall. And a quiet bondage scene nearby.
I slowly push him backward into the wall, crowding him, my hands on either side of his head, my breath moving his hair as I remind him of his safe word. I take in the smell of him. I drop closer and breathe him in. I can feel his pulse speed up against my cheek. His sweat has a metallic scent to it. He is afraid.
I step back and meet his eyes, hardening my gaze. There will be no coaxing here. This is about strength. His. And will. Mine. I am building something very important. I sink into my boots and begin.
I slam him into the wall, glorying in the feel of his body against mine. Again. The breath is thrust out of him. Again. The sound of flesh against concrete. Again.
I turn around, lean my back against him, and grab my sap gloves. I tease his face with them, let him feel the leather against his lips, his jaw, his throat. The lead shot drives into him. I am tapping him lightly, but it does not feel light. Stepping up the intensity, I can feel his energy shift as he realizes I am barely using my strength. The back of my neck prickles, and I can sense people behind me. I focus my hearing and I pick out whispering, feet shuffling, breath quickening. A crowd is starting to build.
I begin to pound into him with my fists. I am getting at the deep muscles now. His chin is lifting higher. I watch his eyes and realize that I have found his stubborn streak. It’s time.
“Show me how strong you are, boy. Show me how much you can take.”
I slam into him, taking his breath, scenting him. There is something sweet there now. It’s not just fear I smell. I step back and drive my knee into his cock. He gasps and struggles to stay still. Again. I can see the steel in his eyes. Good.
Now, to really get started. I step back further and start pounding my boots into his thighs. He is breathing audibly now. I am gliding around him. Slamming into him with punches. Ramming my weight into him. Thudding kicks into his thighs. The energy builds as the crowd builds. There is a rawness to this that draws them in.
“Come on, boy. You can take it. I know you’re strong enough.”
I drive my bootheel into the bruises on his thigh. I ram my elbow into the bruises on his pecs. He grunts, clenching his jaw. He’s not sure he can do it, but he’ll never admit it.
“Yes, Sir, I can take it,” he spits out, glaring at me, promising himself as much as me.
I build him up with punches and kicks. Show him I can see his strength by how hard I pound into him. My face is full of ferocity and pride, and I pour all that into him until it streams out in tears running down his face.
Grab a copy of ‘Show Yourself to Me’
To learn more about Xan West, and see who else is on this blog tour, with exciting extracts and more about Xan’s writing, check out this post on Kink Praxis.