It was time to take it to a new level, but we each had projects and deadlines looming. I messaged him one day and said ‘look, this will never happen if we don’t start.’ I told him I’d opened up a Google Word document and tossed in the first chapter. I said, this will probably take a year or two, but at least we could write when we had the time. I thought we’d write maybe a chapter a month, maybe every other week, tossing the ball between us. Well, that isn’t exactly what happened...
My words for Lucas while writing this have been ‘You’re KIIILLLLIIIIING ME!!!” This man has kept me on my toes and on the edge of my seat throughout. Although I wrote this with him, we toyed and teased one another, tossing curve balls left and right. To say this hasn’t been a blast would be the understatement of the century.
To hear the story of how this book came about, and how it was created, you’ll just have to come chat with us.
Lucas
Wow, what a wild ride this was. When I first approached Ellie several months back about us co-writing a novel, on the heels of several fan suggestions, she was dubious at first, and needed time to think, and to finish off many of her own projects. I figured what the hell, a stack of works-in-progress is a good problem for an author to have, far better than writer’s block or carpal syndrome, right? I didn’t take it personally. The truth is, we run around in the same circles but were unknown quantities to one another. Some time later, we did a live-write event on Facebook, co-writing a story under the heat of a one-hour time limit, and it was like we were one writer, and I think we both knew it was time to take this to a new level, so now we present Off Duty to you, the work of a pair of medical perverts. She slung out the first chapter of this novel and caught me by surprise, but I was on it like a chicken on a junebug.
When we first started this, Ellie guesstimated a year for us to finish this one, due to our own insane schedules and the things we obviously write independently of one another. But this became our addiction, and across the span of a mere sixteen days, we co-wrote this full-length novel in your hands, cresting 70,000 words, so I think she underestimated what we can do together, right? Bad Ellie! No cookie!
I write because I love writing. I mean, where else can I go be God, create places and people, orchestrate it all, and nobody put me in a straight-jacket and hurled me into a rubber room, right? This venture with Ellie has been a huge blast, exciting and fun, and I hope you all enjoyed reading this tale we’ve woven for you. For my part, I love what I do, as I’ve said, but this was maybe the most fun I’ve had writing. I’m a former paramedic but have never written about it, and I’ve never written a cock-of-the-walk character like Keith, who Ellie invented for me. This was miles outside my “comfort zone” but I loved every minute of it, and hated saying so long to Keith and Laura. Thank you, Ellie, for this opportunity and this wild and wonderful ride, and for the buckets of “words go here” laughs along the way. Seriously, I think we challenged one another at every turn, and I’ve remarked that our whole seems far greater than the sum of our parts. For my part, it’s been a challenge I’ve relished, and I hope this isn’t our last rodeo together, and I’ll bet it ain’t. To you, our dear readers, thank you for reading, and keep your eyes peeled for what we write!
About the Authors
ELLIE MASTERS is a multi-genre author, writing the stories she loves to read. These are dark erotic tales. Or maybe sweet contemporary stories. How about a romantic thriller to whet your appetite? Ellie writes it all. Want to read passionate poems and sensual secrets? She does that too. Dip into the eclectic mind of Ellie Masters, spend time exploring the sensual realm where she breathes life into her characters and brings them from her mind to the page and into the heart of her readers every day.
When not writing, Ellie can be found doing the doctor thing, and when not saving lives, she spends her time outside, where her passion for all things outdoor reigns supreme: ATV-ing, scuba diving, hiking, and breathing fresh air are top on her list of favorite things. Ellie’s favorite way to spend an evening is curled up on a couch, laptop in place, watching a fire, drinking a good wine, and bringing forth all the characters from her Mind-to-the-Page and eventually into the hearts of her readers.
LUCAS X. BLACK is a veteran novelist, formerly a paramedic, and entirely a redneck, born Mr. Redneck McNeckerson, in a cabin in de woods outside the burgeoning metroplex of West Bumblefuck, Texas, which is more or less still in the USA. Kinda. He is the author, thus far, of the Josiah’s Love and Justice saga, several novellas, and Lights … Camera … Surrender … as well as a wide array of works in fiction that keep him all kinds of busy.
When not writing at a fever pitch, he can be found bumbling about his house muttering random lines from Star Wars or Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and farting at suspected silly English kuh-niggets, or perfecting his Yoda impersonations, and generally rednecking and being a redneck savant and non-technical kinky Luddite.
Acknowledgments
Lucas X. Black:
This has seriously been some of the absolute most fun I’ve ever had writing. First and foremost, I want to thank Ellie for believing in me, for taking a chance on me, and doing this project. She’s been an amazing partner for this venture, and I devoutly hope this ain’t our last rodeo, but I suspect we’ll have more in times to come. Next, I have to thank Kim Lehnhardt. She’s my PA, the one who keeps me sane. Okay, more or less sane. Alright, I still howl at the moon, but she keeps my ass organized, and no way could I do this without her. She also made this amazing book cover for Off Duty, entirely on her own, before we were even halfway done. She knows not to even ask for my suggestions on graphics. She just reads the manuscript and presents a cover, a system that’s worked magnificently. She’s also the wizard who did all the teasers our street teams have been using to promote this novel now in your hot little hands.
I also absolutely want to thank our beta readers, who brushed up those last few mistakes we missed in a hundred re-reads. They are, in no particular order, Aundrea Mielke, Deana Flinchum, Donna Lorah, Sisilia Bailey, and Lisa Pichner. Additionally, Deana, Lisa, and Sisilia are on my Blackhearts team along with Vicky Smith. Hats off to all you wonderful ladies for your efforts on our behalf to get this book into your hands. All of you occupy a special place in what passes for my heart.
But I also want to thank you, our readership, for reading this book, and for the support you’ve helped us to give to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Ellie and I both have a soft spot for kids, and your support heartens me, so, again, thank you. This is Lucas X. Black, checking out of this one, reminding you that since all you seek is in the last place you look, look there first and save a whole lotta time, okay?
LXB
Ellie Masters:
Lucas left me a placeholder, saying “Words go here.” When I set up our ‘living’ document in Google docs, my OCD was in full force. I made chapter headings and placeholders for text. The words I used were ‘Words go here.” Well, I think poor Lucas thought I was trying to help his sorry ass out, showing him where he needed to type. Anyway, it became a gag between us, and I loved seeing him tease me as we added more and more chapters.
Lucas, I’d like to thank you for making this experience something I won’t ever forget. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun writing a book. It was MORE fun, because you were there with me, pushing me to write, write, write! And I enjoyed, literally watching you create your words in real time as I leaned forward staring at the screen, urging you to write faster so I could have my turn again. Knowing you watched me too, made it even more exhilarating. Lucas has been an amazing source of support and laughs.
There wasn’t a single difficult part of this project. I don’t think I’ve laughed or smiled as much than crafting this tale. To say we were struck by our muses...really misses the point. There was a creative synergy in force, a bit spooky at times with how aligned our thoughts were. This tale was written without a script, we winged it the entire way, setting each other up at the end of each chapter. Somehow,
it all came together into something I’m still a little bit awed by. I had to write, because I needed to know what came next, then I would eagerly watch Lucas lay down his words. We’re already talking about the next project...because...because writing together has become that addictive.
I’d like to thank Kim Lehnhardt, Lucas’ PA, who designed our cover, teasers, organized pretty much everything, and was a wonderful support throughout. She pulled the essence of this tale outta our minds and created the most amazing cover! Kim, thank you...You rock!
To my alpha reader, Shea, your support and encouragement is a true gift. Your honesty in pointing out inconsistencies, plot gaps, things that work, and things that don't, is invaluable. You work hard to make me look better and I can't thank you enough.
To our beta readers, your eyes caught all the boo-boos we left behind. Thank you for scouring our tale, and dressing it up for its debut into the world. You have no idea how grateful I am.
I’d like to thank my street team, the ELLZ BELLZ, who are tireless supporters of my writing and amazing friends. I love and adore each of you, thank you for your support, and none of this would be as much fun without you cheering me on.
Finally, writing and creating people and worlds is fun and all, godlike even, but it means nothing without someone to share it with. You, the reader, are what makes this worth all the hard work…(Um….there really was no hard work writing this novel...I’ve never had words flow so easily)...but what fun is there in that, if we can’t share it with our readers?
But most of all, this is a labor of love. Lucas and I are donating all proceeds to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Kids are special to each of us. There was a time, in my past, when Make-A-Wish entered my life, granting the most amazing wish to my younger son. My son’s story had a happy ending, and this is my chance to pay it back. Thank you for buying this book and contributing to making another child’s wish come true.
Other Works by Lucas
COMING UP!
From Bethany. Copyright © 2017 by Lucas X. Black. All rights reserved:
I was out of town on business, at a convention of sorts, when my phone chirped a notification I certainly didn’t expect. It was from my security system, and there had been an internal breach. Wondering what the hell was going on, I took the elevator to my room, booted my laptop, and grumbled.
Bethany, whom I had hired to deep-clean my house in my absence, had gone through my second-floor home office and accessed the door that led up a hidden staircase to my third-floor dungeon, my finished attic. I wondered what had gotten into her, wondered if she was going to give me grief, as I watched the motion-activated video, using my headphones for the audio.
She walked about the dungeon, her face showing surprise and nervousness at the array of weapons of ass destruction, as well as the dungeon furniture, most of it covered in plastic sheeting. I went up there every week or so to practice my whips, but hadn’t had anyone up there in most of a year, since Laura moved away, transferred to some shithole in Michigan in a corporate restructuring.
I watched, riveted, torn between arousal and annoyance as Bethany stripped naked, folding her clothes neatly and setting them on a whipping bench. She wandered along the wall of floggers, and chose the wickedest of the lot, one with six thin and tightly braided falls, with smooth metal tips crimped to the end of each fall, guaranteed to impart much pain at full-strength, then sank to her knees.
She was nothing less than a beauty, needful of more money than her job paid, and I could feel my cock stirring as I gazed upon the contours of her body, her kinked copper hair seeming a force of nature in its own right. I wondered what I was about to see. In a way, I felt like I was violating her in what she surely thought was absolute privacy. On the other hand, she had entered, somehow or another, a room I kept locked with a separate key than the rest of the house took, even a different brand, and I kept one key on my ring, which was in my pocket, and the other in my safe, which she hadn’t opened, or another alarm would have gone off, and the police would have descended upon my house like an avenging angel of a wrathful god. So, with that in mind, I had the absolute right to watch what she was doing.
“Five hundred,” Bethany said, barely above a whisper. “You deserve this for violating him. No mercy, Bethany. You deserve punishment, not play. And no orgasms for a week, you stupid bitch. You knew better than to do this shit. God, this is going to be bad.” Her preamble done, she swung the flogger sidearm, letting it wrap around and land on her back, in what I judged to be a harsh lash, one that made her shiver a long moment before steeling herself and slashing again. Another angle showed her from behind, and I could see the marks were vivid, glad that I’d let the salesman talk me into the premium system with high-resolution cameras.
Bethany kept lashing, lash after lash, sobbing at the pain as she continued the self-flagellation through 120 lashes before she dropped the flogger, screamed, and fell sobbing to the floor, curled up in a ball for several minutes. She rose again to her knees. “That was your only freebie, bitch,” she snarled. “Take the remainder or you have at least one hundred added to your sentence, you nosy little bitch.” She was silent and still for a moment, then moaned, “oh, God,” and resumed her self-flagellation, furious strokes spaced eight or ten seconds apart. I have to say I admired her resolve. Redheads, in my experience, mark more vividly than others, mostly being of fairer skin. But even so, I was seeing the marks on her back of a harsh whipping, a merciless beating, in fact, and she didn’t ease up through four hundred lashes before she dropped the flogger again, groaning as she worked out a cramp in her right hand. It took a few minutes, and for her sake, I hoped Bethany slept on her back, and wondered if there was a husband or boyfriend who was going to see her marks, and how he would react, if so.
After a long moment, she picked up the flogger again. “An added one hundred,” she said, then countered herself. “No, one hundred fifty, and any more weakness brings the total sentence to a thousand. You will learn better than to pull this kind of stupid shit.” She steeled herself, then started slinging the flogger again, screaming at the first lash, which she drove a bit far. The tips caught her on the side of her chest, at the start of her right breast. I knew on most people, that region was terribly sensitive. I think she was one of most people. But she was devoted, dedicated to enduring the entirety of her self-imposed sentencing. The lashing continued, although she was visibly weakened through the last fifty or so strokes, but the flogger wasn’t a lightweight, although well-balanced. At long last, it was done. Her upper back was a mess.
“Jesus,” she whispered, then broke down bawling, curled on the floor for several long minutes. Finally, she recovered, and knelt, head bowed. “Your weakness means you also are barred two weeks from orgasm,” she said at length, then stood and hung up the flogger. She dressed herself and went downstairs, where the monitor showed her putting the door back on its hinges and hammering the pins into place.
After, despite what I knew had to be terrible pain from her marks, she broke her tail working, polishing windows on every upstairs room from the inside, and dusting every surface about. She even opened the windows in the bedrooms to bring in fresh air. Giving the devil her due, she worked her ass off, and I gave her props for that, even as deeply annoyed as I was with her.
By then, it was growing dark. Bethany stopped for a time and opened a small ice chest she’d brought with her, and bolted down a sandwich, chips, and a Coke for her supper, not even helping herself to a Coke from my fridge. She balled up the trash and tossed it into the kitchen can, then busied herself cleaning my fridge until it sparkled like new.
“Okay, tomorrow. I’ll get the floors tomorrow,” she said, then left.
I played back her self-flagellation and grew erect, wishing I’d been the one laying the leather to the beautiful Bethany. Laura had left long since, and I had been too long without the company of a woman, tangled up in my work, and in family drama around three deaths since she’d left for Michigan. While we’d pa
rted on good terms, she rapidly excised me from her life, never answering my calls or e-mails. After three weeks, I took the hint. I didn’t even send her a birthday or Christmas card. To put a point on it, my balls were heavy and demanded release.
Bethany’s beautiful image was on my mind as I slid my pants down and pumped my cock, hard and fast, until I exploded a load into a wad of Kleenex. It cleared my mind and I felt better, relieved and relaxed. I returned to the convention, but was bored. I’m not much of a gambler or into the flash and glitz, and had already gotten what I needed from the convention, so Las Vegas had little to offer besides people-watching. I pondered and discarded the idea of a call girl, something I’d never before done, just for the novelty. But the idea didn’t appeal. Tired from my day, I returned to my room, smoked a cigar and drank some whiskey from a bottle I’d brought with me, then called it a night.
LXB
Other Works by Ellie
Just Released!
Becoming His
A Collective Novel
(Part II Learning to Breathe)
What if I can’t give you red or green?
That had been Sally’s response to Derek's question about becoming his submissive. He ordered her to make a choice. One opened doors. The other ended everything before it even began. She’d never know if she belonged in Derek's world unless she took a leap of faith, but she was smart enough to appreciate the inherent dangers of moving too fast.
Red or Green. She needed a middle ground. A yellow would have been nice, but he’d only offered red or green. Had that been intentional?
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