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  #41  
Old 14-Oct-17, 20:10
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Default Re: Excerpts from mainstream literature

She run into the tiny room, slamming the
door shut behind her. She spun, planted her left foot forward, her
right leg ready. His footsteps and his curses got louder as he
burst in, she was already kicking.
Her boot hit the door, the door hit his head.
Valkyrie fell back from the impact and he dropped to his knees,
hands clutching his face. She sprang up, grabbed a mop, smacked
the handle on to the top of his skull. He howled, started moving
away. She jabbed him in the face with the handle until he knocked
it from her hands, and she jumped out after him, swinging kicks
into his side. He caught her leg, held it to him as he struggled to
his feet. He was panting heavily from the exertion, blood running
from his nose. He slammed her back against the wall, one hand
still holding her leg, keeping her off balance, while the other hand
wrapped around her throat.
She went for his eyes, digging her thumbs in. He tried turning
his head, then took her violently to the ground. Kneeling between
her legs, both hands now at her throat. Unable to breathe, her
her head suddenly pounding, Valkyrie squirmed into position then
turned on to her hip, bringing one leg in to press against him. He
pushed forward she scissor-swept his legs, flipping him on to
his back. Now she was on top and she rose up, started raining down
palm shots and elbows. Four of them were all she needed, but she
kept going just to be sure. When he sparked out, unconscious and
limp, she rolled off, breathing hard.

From Skullsuggery Pleasant - Kingdom of the Wicked by Dereak Landy
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  #42  
Old 15-Oct-17, 10:42
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Default Re: Excerpts from mainstream literature

She sighed. “Then we must take the key by force.”
“Then I must escape by force,” I said.
“We have overpowering force available.”
She was bluffing. “So do I, when my sergeant zeroes in on the region of my disappearance. Shall we set some guidelines for our encounter, so as not to generate an interplanetary incident?”
She smiled again, genuinely appreciative. “You amaze me, officer. I wish you were on my team. What do you have in mind?”
Chapter 4 CHIRON
67
BioofaSpaceTyrant
“First, no bloodshed. Bare-handed, action ceasing when opponent yields or loses consciousness, and the defeated party retires from the fray. By bare-handed I mean no power weapons, pacifiers, blades, or chemicals. Second, no telling. If you win, you will take the key and return me to my unit with no word of what really happened; if I win, I will not turn you in or make any report. This is a private icontest. Third, no future action on Chiron either way; now decides the issue.”
She considered. “Let me consult.” She rose and went to the door. There was a murmured exchange. Then she returned and settled herself again. “It is agreed. A mock conflict. Bare-handed, bloodless, silent, and no further issue. Escape this building with the key and you are free; otherwise, it is ours. If we prevail and the key is false, you will guide us to the real one.”
“Say when,” I said.
She gave me a direct look. “When.”
I launched myself at her from a sitting position, but she was already moving. Her legs came up to fend me off. I caught her left ankle and shoved it aside, but her right leg slid past on my other side, and suddenly she had me in a scissor hold about the waist. I had thought she would try to flee the couch, to alert her associates; instead, she was trying to pin me there, and she had strong legs. Women may be weaker than men above the waist, but not below. I had miscalculated because I could not use my talent to interpret her training; her reflexes were largely automatic, not subject to conscious planning. She had countered my motion reflexively, and so had caught me. I tried to lean forward, to get a choke hold on her, but she squeezed me tightly and held me back so I had no leverage. I grasped a handful of her upper dress, to haul her in to me, but it ripped away. No purchase there!
Well, there were other ways. I could have dumped us both on the floor, but the thud would have alerted her henchmen that the engagement was on, and they would have rushed in to overpower me while she pinned me with the scissors.
Our silence was literal; she did not scream for help. I realized that she was enjoying the challenge of this combat; she was a very physical woman and wanted to do this job herself. If our struggle should lead to seduction, she would not object.
I took another handful of dress and ripped it away, exposing her low-cut halter beneath. Then I ripped that away, leaving her bare above the waist. She had reason to be proud of her body! Still, she did not scream, but continued to squeeze me unmercifully in her scissor hold. That hurt physically, despite my conditioning. I had to break her grip, and I did not want to strike her. Even in this combat I retained a certain diffidence about violence toward a beautiful woman, as perhaps she knew.
I put my hands to the nether portion of her dress and ripped that away. Soon I had her entirely naked, but still she did not relinquish her grip on my waist. I considered ramming my hand into an intimate place, but knew that would not make her let go; she was too close to victory to give in because of pain or indignity.
I reached suddenly for her face, and when she batted my arm aside with her forearm I caught that and hauled it in to me. She fought me savagely, but my strength was superior, and I got hold of her long black hair and used it to draw her head close. Now I was able to move to a so-called “naked strangle,” perhaps appropriate for this occasion. One forearm was behind her, my fist anchored in her hair, my other forearm levering into the side of her neck, squeezing the buried carotid artery. This would not render her unconscious quickly, as the artery on the other side of her neck still conveyed blood to her brain, but I could make the hold extremely uncomfortable.
She relaxed her scissors grip and spun out of my strangle. But I caught her in another, this time from behind, and this one was secure, and it put pressure on both carotids. She had played into my hands.
I did not try to put her out. “You are my shield,” I murmured in her ear. “We shall march outside together.”

From Bio of a Space Tyrant 2: Mercenary by Piers Anthony
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  #43  
Old 18-Mar-18, 21:09
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Default Re: Excerpts from mainstream literature

The mere concept was too bizarre for Schofield to comprehend. Snake was a highly decorated Marine. One of the longest serving members in the Corps, let alone Schofield's unit. Why would he throw it all away by doing something like this? Why would he kill his own men?
And then Schofield thought about Mother.
Snake was down on E-deck with Mother.
It made sense. Snake had already killed Samurai, the weakest member of Schofield's team. Mother - with one leg, and heavily dosed up on methadone - would be another easy target.
Schofield hit the B-deck catwalk on the fly. He ran for the rung-ladder, and slid down it fast. C-deck. He slid down the next rung-ladder - D-deck - and then the next.
He was on E-deck now. Schofield ran across the pool deck, past the lapping waves of the pool, and headed for the south tunnel.
He entered the south tunnel and saw the door to Mother's storeroom.
Schofield approached the open doorway to the store- room cautiously. He upholstered his Maghook - he still couldn't use his pistol in the gaseous environment of the station - and held it out in front of him like a gun.
He approached the open doorway, came to it. Then he took one, last, deep breath and then...
...Schofield turned fast into the doorway, his Mag- hook up and ready.
He saw the scene inside.
And his jaw dropped.
'Holy shit,' he breathed.
Mother and Snake.
At first, Schofield just stared at them, stared at the scene.
Mother was stretched out on the floor, with her back up against one of the walls. She had her good leg extended across the room, pressed up against Snake's throat, pinning him to a thick wooden shelf filled with scuba tanks. Her boot was pressed hard against his throat, pushing his chin upwards, squeezing his face back against the sturdy wooden shelf. She also held her Colt automatic pistol cupped in her hands, extended in the perfect shooting position. Pointed right at Snake's face.
The gaseous environment of the station obviously didn't bother her.
Mother glared at Snake down the barrel of her gun.
Blood dripped freely from two deep gashes above her left eye. It dripped down off her eyebrow, smacking down onto her left cheek like droplets of water from a leaking tap. Mother didn't notice the blood - she just stared right through it - into the eyes of the man who had tried to kill her.
For his part, Snake was pinned to the wooden shelf. Every now and then he would attempt to struggle, but Mother had all the leverage. Whenever he tried to wriggle out of her hold, she would press down hard on his Adam's apple with her big size 12. Mother was choking him with her foot.
The room around them looked like a bomb had hit it.
Wooden shelves lay twisted on the floor, splintered and shattered. Scuba tanks rolled aimlessly across the floor. A knife - Snake's - lay on the floor. Blood dripped off its blade.
Slowly, Mother turned her head and looked over at Schofield who was still just standing in the doorway, stunned.
Her chest heaved up and down. She was still breathing hard from the fight.
'Well, Scarecrow,' she said, taking another breath,
'are you just gonna fucking stand there, or what?'

From Ice Station by Matthew Reilly
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  #44  
Old 23-Mar-18, 20:34
muarijun muarijun is offline
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Default Re: Excerpts from mainstream literature

The Kremlin Letter. 1966 novel by Noel Behn. Movie version 1970 by 20th Century-Fox. Directed by John Huston. Starring Richard Boone, Orson Welles, Max von Sydow, Bibi Andersson.

(The hero began to gather a team, but one of the spies is a depraved guy who enjoy see female brawls; the movie version had the fight, rought and dirty on the dust)


“Where can I find him?” Rone demanded.
“Up there on the third ledge€”at the house of the bitches.”
The pilot waited at the cantina while Rone climbed the path toward the third ledge. As he approached he heard the voices of arguing women. The tension grew. Screams and hisses erupted. He reached the ledge in time to see a large bronze-faced Indian woman rush from the hut and throw herself on two smaller girls sitting near a caldron. The three rolled in the dust kicking, scratching and screaming. Within minutes two other Indian girls joined the melee. The caldron was overturned, a thin reed chair was smashed, dresses were ripped, eyes were gouged, hair was pulled, faces were hit, naked butts were kicked, and one magnificently exposed tanned breast was bitten.
“Bravo, bravo, magnifico!”
Rone heard a masculine voice laugh out.
There, at the far end of the ledge, stood a tall copper-faced man with snow-white hair and beard. He wore only a pair of brightly colored native shorts. His lean, muscular body looked like that of a twenty-year-old Olympic swimmer. But he was twice or perhaps three times that age. When he saw Rone he flashed a brilliant smile. “I'll bet fifty pounds on the fat one,” he shouted. “Fifty pounds says she'll take the lot. Are you on?”
“I'll take the fat one for a hundred,” Rone called back.
“Is my credit good?” the white-bearded man shouted.
“It's good.”
“Then you have yourself a bet!”
“Nita! Suba! The crotch! Hit that big cow in the crotch! Will you listen? Will you listen to me? Blast her in the box!”
The women turned and twisted and rolled. One of the smaller girls freed herself and crawled a few feet away. She stood up and looked over to the man.
“In the cojones,” he roared at her, pointing to his own anatomy.
The girl nodded and picked up a crude wooden ladle that had fallen from the caldron. She cautiously approached the thrashing pile, raised her weapon high above her head, waited for the right moment, and brought it crashing down between the fat woman's legs. There was an agonized shout. Rone's entry doubled up and rolled helplessly out of the pile. She lay there immobile as the other women got to their feet.
“Not a bad act,” said the man, crossing to Rone. “I'm thinking of taking it to Honduras. Say, chap, you do have that hundred on your person, don't you?”
Rone handed the man six fifty-dollar bills.
“They can fight again in an hour if you like.” He walked over to the motionless body on the ground. “Sorry, old cow, maybe this will take away the ache.” He dropped two of the bills in front of her. The fat woman was in too much pain to do anything but stare at them blankly. The four other women had not bothered to dress. They stood silently near the hut wiping the blood and dirt from their naked bodies. The man handed each a fifty-dollar bill. They exploded like children at a birthday party, covering him with kisses and hugs. Then they ran to the crumpled body and cheerfully dragged her inside.
The man sat down in a frayed wicker rocking chair at the far end of the ledge and motioned to Rone.
“Well, you've seen the lot of them, take your pick. Between you and me, chappie, that fat cow is magnifico. Absolutely magnifico. She can do things to you no other woman you will ever meet can equal. Her muscular control is sheer artistry.” He rocked back in the chair and examined Rone's reaction. “But you're an American, aren't you?” He frowned. “I forgot. You fellows are only interested in faces. Then you'd better take one of the others. They are all superb. Trained them myself. They'll even put their clothes back on if you find that more enticing. It's a shame about your state of mind, though—the fat cow is brilliant, but you'll never know how to enjoy her, will you?”
The man looked dejected for a moment, then the smile returned. “Why worry about national fetishes at a time like this? Absolution is at hand. Take your pick. For twenty dollars any one of them is yours. For thirty you can have two. For fifty take the entire stable.”
“The Tillinger Fund is planning an expedition,” Rone said.
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  #45  
Old 07-May-18, 06:14
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Default Re: Excerpts from mainstream literature

The Power
Naomi Alderman


She is still giggling, soft and low. She leans forward and pulls him closer to her. She looks into his eyes, her irises are lined with lights of brown and gold, and her lower lip is moist. He is afraid. He is excited. He realizes that he could not stop her, whatever she wanted to do now. The thought is terrifying. The thought is electrifying. He is achingly hard now, and does not know when that happened. He cannot feel anything at all in his left arm.

....

There is a shame like rust working its way through his body. He thinks over that afternoon compulsively. In bed at night: her lips, her breasts pressing against the smooth fabric, the outline of her nipples, his absolute vulnerability, the feeling that she could overpower him if she wanted. The thought of it excites him, and he touches himself. He tells himself he is excited by the memory of her body, the smell of her like hibiscus flowers, but he cannot know for certain. The things are tangled together now in his mind: lust and power, desire and fear.
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  #46  
Old 02-Apr-20, 06:12
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Default Stories from books

Apologies if there's already a thread about this somewhere. Post excerpts from books that contain scissor scenes.

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Page 10-11, 484

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Old 08-Apr-20, 00:33
scissorjunkie scissorjunkie is offline
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Default Re: Stories from books

Quote:
Originally Posted by InTheFlesh86 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Apologies if there's already a thread about this somewhere. Post excerpts from books that contain scissor scenes.

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Page 10-11, 484

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I was able to find the scissorhold in the first part of the Ember Life book, it was very good, but didn’t have any luck finding the second on page 484. Could you copy paste it perhaps? Or do you have a other link?
Thanks
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  #48  
Old 08-Apr-20, 05:49
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Default Re: Stories from books

Hopefully [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] will work

Quote:
Originally Posted by scissorjunkie [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I was able to find the scissorhold in the first part of the Ember Life book, it was very good, but didn’t have any luck finding the second on page 484. Could you copy paste it perhaps? Or do you have a other link?
Thanks
Use the search bar on the left side and type in "her thighs" and it should come up.
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Old 08-Apr-20, 11:02
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Default Re: Stories from books

As far as I can tell, this is the excerpt from page 484 of Ember of Life, by Tom Watson. I followed the link provided above and was unfortunately not able to copy and paste the text, so instead I have typed out out by hand. Please forgive any typos or mistakes.

Ianmu was still in intense pain and she would be sure to kill the redhead in an equally painful manner as payment for such a wound, but right now she was drawing upon her faith in An’an to overcome the pain she felt. In her agony, she had forgotten to look for her dagger, but she didn’t need her dagger to kill this man. The strongest part of her body were her legs and she would introduce the hammer-wielding man to true strength. She stepped forward and dove into a handstand slamming both of her legs onto Imkanar’s shoulders and wrapping them tightly! The move was so smooth and flowing that the young man had no time to react. Ianmu flexed her powerful abdominal muscles drawing her upper body above Imkanar’s head. In effect, she was now sitting on his shoulders in front of him with her thighs wrapped around his neck! The crowd roared in excitement at having witnessed such an athletic feat!
Imkanar staggered backward suddenly unable to support the weight of an entire woman connected to his neck! Losing his balance, he fell harshly to the ground, the woman attached to his neck making the fall even more painful. She simply lay back and squeezed as hard as she possibly could. Her legs constricted so tightly around his neck that within mere moments Imkanar could feel the blood being cut off. He had expected to spill his guts onto the sand or perhaps have his throat slit, but he never figured that he would be strangled to death by a woman. Ianmu hoped to finish off the low-born quickly before the crazed redhead finished beating her brother to a pulp. Unfortunately, strangling someone to death took much longer than many realized. She would merely cause him to loose consciousness and then finish him with a dagger.
He flailed with his arms trying to grab a hold of something, but her body lay upon him with her head upon his knees. Ianmu grabbed his hands and held them at bay. She was much weaker than him, but she had only to keep her legs wrapped around his neck for a few more moments and it would all be over. She could feel his strength giving out. Under her breath, she chanted a continuous prayer to An’an for strength as she choked the man with her legs. Even now, he was beginning to stop struggling. It was just like how she had killed the priest to An’an.
Ishayan had a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and was in pretty bad shape. The strange effect which had been sapping his strength for the entire fight had made it hard for him to stop the crazed redhead straddling his chest. Ember had initially beaten him several times with her fist until he had grabbed her by the neck with both hands, ready to squeeze the life out of the woman. She simply took a handful of sand from the ground and poured it right into his eyes ending that attack. Now the man lay flat upon the ground bruised and bloodied, and for now out of the fight. He wasn’t quite sure why the redhead had not finished him off the moment he had been incapacitated by the sand. Ember stood feeling slightly dizzy from the continuous exertion, only to find poor Imkanar being strangled to death by the concubine! With one greath kick to the head she ended Ishayan’s struggle.
“Oh no you don’t!” she screamed, rushing over to try and pry the strikingly painted woman off of Imkanar. He was only barely conscious and had all but stopped fighting. As a result, her hands were now free to repel Ember as she began trying to grab a hold of the concubine’s face and hair. Ianmu fought back with her hands presenting a problem. In effect, the concubine was able to fight two battles at the same time and Imkanar was losing his fight! Ember knew exactly how to deal with this problem. It worked a moment before... why not again, she thought. She stood and began kicking the concubine in the head repeatedly with her foot. Each time her foot landed a blow, Ianmu saw strange colors and speckles appear in her vision. It only took a few good solid hits before she let go of Imkanar and passed into the blackness of unconsciousness. Ember was quite impressed at how effective good kick could be! By the gods she has strong legs, but so do I, she thought in grim amusement.

Ember of Life
Tom Watson
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Old 08-Apr-20, 23:09
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Default Re: Excerpts from mainstream literature

[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] (written by a female author, which for me is an added bonus)

[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] (I guess this isn't technically mainstream literature, but search this page for "her legs")

Last edited by InTheFlesh86; 08-Apr-20 at 23:15.
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