Fisting by Force

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 3,500
0 Ratings (0.0)

Walter and Rude Rudy don’t understand why Deepak has a slab of shortening in his locker. The Fist gets it—and with a nickname like "The Fist" he’d better! When four work buddies spend the afternoon feeding cardboard into the compactor, three of them get distracted by dirty desires. The Fist brought along Deepak’s grease and he’s hell-bent on using it. But is there more to this story than man-on-man dominance and humiliation?

Fisting by Force
0 Ratings (0.0)

Fisting by Force

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 3,500
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Excerpt

Gazing down at him, The Fist flipped the shortening into his palm and tossed the box to the floor. He placed the box cutter in one of the many pockets of his cargo pants before peeling waxy paper from the hunk of grease.

“You brought this to work for a reason,” The Fist said.

He ran three dark fingers across the top of the shortening slab. The creamy stuff glistened as he rubbed it with his thumb.

“This is crazy,” Deepak said. He tried to laugh, to downplay the threat, but he knew how insistent The Fist could be. As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge the other guys’ presence, he glanced at Walter in desperation.

“You think Walter’s going to help you?” The Fist laughed. He slid his palm across the slab. When he closed his fist, globs of grease splattered out between his fingers. “Walter ain’t coming to your rescue. He’s your hear-no-evil monkey. Rudy there, he’s your speak-no-evil monkey. And the rest of this warehouse? It’s just one big see-no-evil monkey. You got no chance, man. You just got to give in.”

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