Dungeon Crawl: The Women Who Love to Love Gay Romance

Welcome to this week's Dungeon Crawl and to an excerpt from a story that was a whole lot of fun to write. I don't know what Ryan Field was imagining when he made this call: 

I decided to see what would happen if the women who love to love gay romance were allowed to forget about everything, with abandon, and just write what they want with absolute freedom. 

Cos, what with my romance gene being faulty and all, my first thought was what it would be like to walk onto the set of Bound Gods... (did I say that out loud?)

Anyway, open a window because you're going to need some fresh air in about five-hundred words' time. Vicky has just returned early from a lukewarm date to find that her flatmate and his boyfriend have been inspired by a site she accidentally left open on her computer...

I hear the TV straight away as I unlock the door. At least, I think it’s the TV when I first hear voices through speakers. “Hi guys, I’m home.” They’re still on the sofa, but all my fantasies have not adequately prepared me for what I see. Not when it’s right there, right in front of me on my antique burgundy leather couch. They’re both butt naked. But that’s a minor consideration. Will is lying across Jake’s lap face down, his ass raised on the top of Jake’s thighs.

They freeze as I come into the room, but they don’t jump up and start making excuses. Which is probably because Will is in no fit state to jump anywhere. Not with his wrists and ankles bound with two of my silk scarves. My laptop is open on the coffee table, the film I watched earlier playing quietly in the background. Not the TV. That’s blank, reflecting Jake and Will’s positions back to me even as I try to do the decent thing and look away. Will’s got a knotted tea towel tied in his mouth and a little voice at the back of my mind says, “He’d better not be drooling on my antique burgundy leather couch.”

“Fuck. Vicky. We weren’t expecting you home so early. What happened to Mike?”

“I was tired,” I stutter, telling them the same lie I told Mr Nice. “I’m sorry. I should have let you know I was coming back so soon.”

“Well, no. It’s your apartment.”

He’s not as embarrassed as he should be. I know we’re open about my vibrator and his wanking, but why is he not redder in the face, why is he not flustered and stammering like I am? Because he knows what I’ve been watching on my laptop. It’s right there playing back to me now, those two delightfully submissive guys.

“Oh sorry about that. I borrowed your laptop to look something up. But you hadn’t closed your browser. That’s kind of what set us off. We were planning a quiet night watching the football.”

I’m still standing in the doorway and I’m just thinking, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” over and over again. In fact, I realize I’m saying it out loud. “Oh my God. It’s. I don’t know. I just. Oh my God.”

“It’s okay Vickster. What’s not to like? Two hot men, tied up and at your disposal. I can totally see why you’d be looking at that when you should be working.” He winks.

I glance at Will’s face. And I laugh, albeit a little hysterically, at the thought that he has by far the easiest role in this little scenario. He’s looking quite calm, tied hands resting against the small of his back, ankles on the armrest so his feet dangle over the edge. His face looks barely flushed. Unlike his ass, which is bright red from where Jake has been hitting it with the wooden spoon he is still holding in his left hand.

“Do you want a go?” He holds the spoon towards me.

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