Pimp Slapped Quotes

Yet curiosity grabbed stubbornness by the throat and pimp-slapped it a few times. ~ Cecy Robson

Did I just get psychically pimp-slapped by a little old lady? ~ Molly Harper

As a Newbody, however, I began to like the pornographic circus of rough sex; the stuff that resembled some of the modern dance I had seen, animalistic, without talk. I begged to be turned into meat, held down, tied, blindfolded, slapped, pulled and strangled, entirely merged in the physical, all my swirling selves sucked into orgasm. ~ Hanif Kureishi

When I got back to the kitchen, my heart nearly stopped. Dad was leaning across the stainless worktable, over a pile of shrimp, almost right in Alex's face. He was holding a new knife, this one small and very sharp. "You got that,kid, or should I say it again?" he was demanding.
Alex looked more nervous than I'd ever seen him. But only for a second. Then his face hardened, and he slapped both palms flat on the table. "I've got it," he said. He shoved up his sleeves and reached for the knife. Moments later, he was deveining shrimp with a lot of enthusiasm and a little skill.
Dad turned and caught me gaping. He tilted his head in obvious warning. Raw, icky, slippery: This was the task he'd given the boy I brought into his kitchen, and I was not to interfere.
Poor Alex. He was being tested for a position he didn't even want. ~ Melissa Jensen

I'll see you there little Red.' Fane's voice faded out of her mind and she could feel his humor. Oh, wasn't he just too cute, picking up on her two best friends' idea of a sick joke - to turn her into the little girl who almost wound up as the wolf's dinner.
"My, what big eyes you have, wolf-man," Jacque said out loud, unable to stop her sarcasm from boiling up.
"The better to see you with love," Jen chimed in.
"What big ears you have!" Sally continued their comic relief.
"The better to hear you with my love," Jen followed.
"What big teeth you have!" Sally mocked, her hands on either side of her face.
"The better to eat you with my love," Jen cackled, but she wasn't finished. True to Jen form she added her own twisted sense of humour. "My, what a big-"
Sally slapped a hand over her mouth, quickly realising where Jen was going with that statement. ~ Quinn Loftis

Jace looked as if she had slapped him. "Why are you determined not to believe us?"
"Because she loves you," said Valentine.
Clary felt the blood drain out of her face. ~ Cassandra Clare

But you must admit,it's taking up an inordinate amount of your time. Why it's taken us six months to have dinner together."
"Is that all?"
He misinterpreted the quiet response, and the gleam in her eyes.And leaned toward her.
She slapped a hand on his chest. "Don't even think about it.Let me tell you something,pal.I do more in one day with my school than you do in a week of pushing papers in that office your grandfather gave you between your manicures and amaretto lattes and soirees. Men like you hold no interest for me whatsoever,which is why it's taken six months for this tedious little date.And the next time I have dinner with you,we'll be slurping Popsicles in hell.So take your French tie and your Italian shoes and stuff them."
Utter shock had him speechless as she shoved open her door.As insult trickled in,his lips thinned. "Obviously spending so much time in the stables has eroded your manners, and your outlook."
"That's right, Chad." She leaned back in the door. "You're too good for me. I'm about to go up and weep into my pillow over it."
"Rumor is you're cold," he said in a quiet, stabbing voice. "But I had to find out for myself."
It stung,but she wasn't about to let it show. "Rumor is you're a moron. Now we've both confirmed the local gossip."
He gunned the engine once,and she would have sworn she saw him vibrate. "And it's a British tie."
She slammed the car door, then watched narrow-eyed as he drove away. "A British tie ~ Nora Roberts

He slapped her face with amazing objectivity and repeated the question. ~ Ray Bradbury

The Cadillac Escalade is the perfect vehicle for a pimp with a growing family. ~ Dana Gould

So I'm tellin' you now-" Tony drew himself up to his most impressive height and slapped his hat on his head "-from now on you're off my list, Nick.If you wanna eat in my restaurant, you better bring Laurie with you! ~ Judith McNaught

Whirrun ignored 'em. 'Then, when I've got two cut,' and he dropped a pale slab of cheese on one slice then slapped the other on top like he was catching a fly, 'I trap the cheese between then, and there you have it!'
'Bread and cheese.' Yon weighed the half-loaf in one hand and the cheese in the other. 'Just the same as I've got.' And he bit off the cheese and tossed it to Scorry.
Whirrun sighed. 'Have none of you no vision?' He held up his masterpiece to such light as there was, which was almost none. 'This is no more bread and cheese than a fine axe is wood and iron, or a live person is meat and har.'
'What is it, then?' asked Drfod, rocking back from his wet wood and tossing the flint aside in disgust.
'A whole new thing. A forging of the humble part of bread and cheese into a greater whole. I call it … a cheese-trap.' Whirrun took a dainty nibble from one corner. 'Oh, yes, my friends. This tastes like … progress… ~ Joe Abercrombie

He looked like a kid caught making an angel in the snow, except his glasses had been blown off and one of his hands was bleeding. He breathed heavily; his belly rose and fell.
I knelt close. 'George?'
A groan, a cough. 'It's too late. Leave me ... Let me sleep ... '
I shook him firmly, slapped the side of his face. 'George, you've got to wake up! George, *please.* Are you okay?'
An eye opened. 'Ow. That cheek was the one part of me that *wasn't* sore.'
'Here, look - your glasses.' I scooped them out of the ash, put them on his chest. ~ Jonathan Stroud

...then in a conversational tone said, "I slapped my Aunt Martha. When my fiancé died. She told me God needed him in heaven, and I hauled off and slapped her, a sixty year old woman....People say unbelievable things to you. They deserve slapping. ~ Connie Willis

People can be in a prison of their own mind. [There are] people who don't have their hearts open to other people's ideas, and can't listen to other people's ideas without feeling like they're being slapped in the face. Those people are more in a prison. ~ Kathleen Hanna

Karma's not a bitch. She's a whore, acting like I've stolen her pimp. ~ G.M.T. Schuilling

What have you got on Case that makes you so untouchable?" Braxton asked.
"She trusts me."
Braxton laughed, disbelieving, as Angel put the injunctions back in order.
Angel said, "People like you write everything down because you know everyone is a liar. It's how you lawyers do." He slapped Braxton in the chest with the legal documents, grinning. "And that's why Case trusts me and treats you like a dog - you're the one who writes things down. ~ Paolo Bacigalupi

and thread, and even bandages, because he knew those at the clinic would not be sterile. The hospital was one of those communist-built structures of steel and glass, slapped up in the fifties, that could have been designed by a four-year-old. The workmanship was so shoddy that the cement abutments and window ledges were already crumbling. Probably not ~ Trevor Scott

Tears welled in Penelope's eyes, making the blue even darker. Then she reeled back and slapped him hard enough that his cheek stung.
"That is for what you did to me. Not in the dark, Jeremy. Not as the faceless lover. Not even for today when you made love to me ... or perhaps we should call it 'fucking', since there was nothing loving about it, only manipulation". Her voice shook as hard as her hands as she turned on her heel and headed for the door. "It's for betraying my friendship". ~ Jess Michaels

As a week. She's been spanked with a spatula, slapped across ~ Christina Baker Kline

How you want me, baby?"
She answered him by biting his forearm hard.
He spun her in his arms. When he went in for a kiss, she slapped his face.
"So that's how?" He put her hard against the wall, holding her by her throat. "You have to fight me? Cause I'm the toughest fucker you've ever met. Say it. ~ Debra Anastasia

I'm not very good at taking compliments. It's better than getting slapped in the face, I suppose. ~ Jeremy Renner

Shane wasn't the type to force a smile. He was born with one slapped on his face. ~ E.M. Jade

Igor?' said Moist. 'You have an Igor?'
Oh, yes,' said Hubert. 'That's how I get this wonderful light. They know the secret of storing lightning in jars! But don't let that worry you, Mr Lipspick. Just because I'm employing an Igor and working in a cellar doesn't mean I'm some sort of madman, ha ha ha!'
Ha ha,' agreed Moist.
Ha hah hah!,' said Hubert. 'Hahahahahaha!! Ahahahahahahhhhh!!!!!-'
Bent slapped him on the back. Hubert coughed.
Sorry about that, it's the air down here,' he mumbled. ~ Terry Pratchett

To recite my poems to an audience is to be slapped awake by my limitations. I confront the infinite chasm between the audience's conception of Poet and the underwhelming evidence of me as that poet. I just don't look the part. Asians lack presence. Asians take up apologetic space. We don't even have enough presence to be considered real minorities. We're not racial enough to be token. We're so post-racial we're silicon. ~ Cathy Park Hong

No more goddamn fingers. Fuck me already," Syn hissed over his shoulder. Furi slapped Syn's ass a few times with his hard cock. "Damn, you are a bossy bottom, aren't you? Look at you. Aching for my cock," Furi moaned, rubbing his sheathed cock up and down Syn's crease. He grabbed the lube and drizzled it messily over Syn's hole. "Damn, ~ A.E. Via

He ground his teeth and slapped some slop down into a pile. The stench was beyond overwhelming. "I thought you said pigs are clean."
"Cleaner than people usually think, but not as clean as you and I." She looked at his messy boots, amusement dancing in her gray eyes. "Well, usually. ~ Julia Quinn

If some of us can get an Oscar for extolling that it's hard out there for a pimp, why can't others of us admonish: 'Then quit acting like a pimp'? ~ John Ridley

Punctuation! We knew it was holy. Every sentence we cherished was sturdy and Biblical in its form, carved somehow by hand-dragged implement or slapped onto sheets by an inky key. For sentences were sculptural, were we the only ones who understood? Sentences were bodies, too, as horny as the flesh-envelopes we wore around the house all day. Erotically enjambed in our loft bed, Clea patrolled my utterances for subject, verb, predicate, as a chef in a five-star kitchen would minister a recipe, insuring that a soufflé or sourdough would rise. A good brave sentence ("I can hardly bear your heel at my nape without roaring") might jolly Clea to instant climax. We'd rise from the bed giggling, clutching for glasses of cold water that sat in pools of their own sweat on bedside tables. The sentences had liberated our higher orgasms, nothing to sneeze at. Similarly, we were also sure that sentences of the right quality could end this hideous endless war, if only certain standards were adopted at the higher levels. They never would be. All the media trumpeted the Administration's lousy grammar. ~ Jonathan Lethem

This was different. It had synths droning and sending saltwater waves under my feet. It had drumbeats bursting like fireworks, rumbling the furniture out of place, and then a crazy, irregular, disharmonious, spiral crescendo of pure electric noise, like a typhoon dragging our bodies into it. It featured brass orchestras and choirs of mermaids and a piano in Iceland, all of them right there, visible, touchable, in Axton House. It shook us, fucked us, suspended us far above the reach of Help bouncing on his hind legs. It spoke of magenta sunsets and plastic patio chairs growing moss under summer storms rolling on caterpillar tracks. It sprinkled a bokeh of car lights rushing through night highways and slapped our faces like the wind at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. It pictured Niamh playing guitar, washed up naked on a beach in Fiji. ~ Edgar Cantero

Atlanta is not the South. ~ Pimp C

She was a hunchback with a sweet smile. She smiled sweetly at anything; she couldn't help it; the trees, me, the grass, anything. The basket pulled her down, dragging her toward the ground. She was such a tiny woman, with a hurt face, as if slapped forever. She wore a funny old hat, an absurd hat, a maddening hat, a hat to make me cry, a hat with faded red berries on the brim. And there she was, smiling at everything, struggling across the carpet with a heavy basket containing Lord knew what, wearing a plumed hat with red berries.

I got up. It was so mysterious. There I was, like magic, standing up, my two feet on the ground, my eyes drenched.

I said, "Let me help."

She smiled again and gave me the basket. We began to walk. She led the way. Beyond the trees it was stifling. And she smiled. It was so sweet it nearly tore my head off. She talked, she told me things I never remembered. It didn't matter. In a« dream she held me, in a dream I followed under the blinding sun. For blocks we went forward. I hoped it would never end. Always she talked in a low voice made of human music. What words! What she said! I remembered nothing. I was only happy. But in my heart I was dying. It should have been so. We stepped from so many curbs, I wondered why she did not sit upon one and hold my head while I drifted away. It was the chance that never came again.

That old woman with the bent back! Old woman, I feel so joyfully your pain. Ask me a favor ~ John Fante

Zane turned his attention to the bus. Phoebe got a bad feeling when she caught sight of the worn sandals, tie-dyed T-shirts and woven hats on the next couple to disembark.
"Hey," the man said. "I'm Martin Lagarde and this is my wife, Andrea."
The woman, a thirtysomething brunette with freckles and glasses, shook hands with Zane.
"We're so excited to be here. Martin and I just love being in the outdoors. We've hiked all over, and last year we did a week at a meditation retreat in Hawaii, but we've never done anything like this." She continued to pump his hand as her expression turned earnest. "We really want this opportunity to be one with the land. To experience a different kind of life. The Old West." She finally released Zane's hand. "We're vegetarians. I hope that won't be a problem."
Zane considered them for a moment, then said, "Not for me." He jerked his head toward the compartment beneath the bus that the driver had opened. "Collect your gear and head inside. Chase will show you where you'll bunk tonight."
"Sure thing," Martin said.
He held up his hand for a high five. When Zane simply stared at him, Martin grabbed Zane's wrist and pulled it until it was level with his shoulder, then slapped his hand against Zane's.
When he walked away, Zane turned to look at her. "Two starving kids and tree-hugging vegetarians. I'm going to kill Chase. ~ Susan Mallery

[...] I was engaged to Fitzgerald's sister!" "Who's Fitzgerald?" "Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, my boy! A Great Author! A Great Author!" "Oops." "I used to sit on her porch and talk to her father while she powdered her nose upstairs! Her father and I had the most lively conversations! He was a Great Man, like Winston Churchill was a Great Man!" I decided it would be better to Google Winston Churchill when I got home, instead of mentioning that I didn't know who he was. "One day, she came downstairs and was ready to go! I told her hold on for a minute, because her father and I were right smack in the middle of a terrific conversation, and you can't interrupt a terrific conversation, right!" "I don't know." "Later that night, as I was dropping her off on that same porch, she said, 'Sometimes I wonder if you like my father more than me!' I inherited that damn honesty from my mother, and it caught up with me again! I told her, 'I do!' Well, that was the last time I told her 'I do,' if you know what I mean!" "I don't." "I blew it! Boy, did I blow it!" He started cracking up extremely loudly and he slapped his knees. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

I've never felt such a sensation as the one I'm feeling right now. It's like being hugged and slapped across the face at the same time ~ Samantha Towle

And where are we going?' he asked. "to war,' I said grandly. 'We'll give the poets something to sing about. We'll wear their tongues out with singing! We're going to war, my friend,' I slapped Finan's shoulder, 'but right now I'm going to sleep. Keep the men busy, tell them they're going to be heroes! ~ Bernard Cornwell

So long as you believe that man is essentially evil in nature, and a more vicious doctrine was never promulgated, it follows that he is often going to need to have his ears slapped back, and who should do this but the clergy? ~ Anne Roe

Perhaps," you will add, grinning, "those who have never been slapped will also not understand" - thereby politely hinting that I, too, may have experienced a slap in my life, and am therefore speaking as a connoisseur. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

People think that the South is racist, and it was, and some parts still are, but for the most part, we've dealt with our history. The biggest racists I've ever met aren't here, they're in politics, and they are smug bastards. They're the ones that are quick to play the race card, the ones that pimp poverty. Those are the real bigots. ~ Larry Correia

Phineas leaped to his feet, giving Vanda a appalled look. "Vanda! Why'd you do it?"
"What?" Vanda stood.
Phineas slapped a hand against his brow. "you can't attack these people jut because you hate Naruto! ~ Kerrelyn Sparks

You know how some people get sun-kissed, well i got sun bitch slapped ~ Ryan Oliveira

I kept my head down and my mouth full. I didn't want Frankie's sharp eyes or tongue focused on me any more than necessary. It was a lot easier with Daniel taking up half of the food and most of the air.
"What about it, Ella?" he asked when everything was gone except the parsley garnish. "When do we get the pleasure of your vocal stylings?"
"I don't sing."
"You mean you won't sng," Sadie corrected. I tried to be charitable about her treason; she goes pretty brainless around Daniel. "Ella sings really well."
"I'm sure she does." Daniel tipped his beer glass in my direction. "In fact, I bet she could totally murder 'Don't Stop Believin'." A song that is actually one of my guilty pleasures. I think he probably knew that. I think he probably had himself a lovely chuckle over it.Then he whispered, "Coward."
In another story, the plucky little heroine would have slapped both hands onto the table, making it wobble a little on its predicatbly uneven fourth leg. She would then have taken both hands, ripped the long scarf from around her neck and, chin high and scar spotlit, stalked to the dais, leaped up, and slayed the audience with her kick-ass version of "Respect." Or maybe "Single Ladies," for the sheer Yay factor.
In this version,I gave Daniel what I hoped was a slayer look and busied myself refolding my napkin.
He was,not surprisingly, unfazed. "Can I ask you a question?"
I sighed. "Will my answer to that one make any difference?"
"Non ~ Melissa Jensen

I just elbowed the pretty blonde he'd been speaking to aside and slapped my panties on his chest. "As soon as I saw you", I purred, "I knew I wouldn't be needing these"! ~ Jeaniene Frost

You take advantage. He don't stay at birthday party like good boy. He come to you for nicky nacky. You slut. I fix you so he see. I give you vordo. She waved her hand at me, she slapped her ass, and she wheeled around and left the coffee shop. ~ Janet Evanovich

Nonna tucked each of her hands into the opposite sleeve, a wizened Confucius in a leopard bathrobe. "Michelangleo, he goes. For days and days he stays away from Elisabetta. The other girls, the prettier girls, have hope again. And then, there he goes once more, carrying only his nonno's ugly old glass-his telescope-and a bag of figs. These he lays at her feet.
"'I see you,' he tells her. 'Every day for months, I watch. I see you. Where you sit, the sea is calm and dolphins swim near you. I see your mended net looks like a lady's lace. I see you dance in the rain before you run home. I see the jewel mosaic you leave to be scattered and remade again and again, piu bella than gold and pearls. You are piu bella than any other, queen of the sea.
"'You do not need silk or pearls. I see that. But they are yours if you wish. I am yours if you wish.If you like what you see.' He gives her the glass. She takes it. Then she asks, 'What about the figs? My bisnonno, he laughs. 'It might take time, your looking to see if you like me. I bring lunch.'" Nonna slapped her knee again, clearly delighted with little Michelangelo's humor. "There is the love story. You like it?"
I swallowed another yawn. "Si, Nonna.It's a good story." I couldn't resist. "But...a talking seagull? A dolphin guide? That kinda stretches the truth, dontcha think?"
Nonna shrugged. "All truth, not all truth, does it matter? My nonno Guillermo came to Michelangelo and Elisabetta, then my papa Euplio to h ~ Melissa Jensen

What does a woman feel when she is hit? My mother slapped me when I was a child - on two occasions, to the point of pure hysteria; I never liked it. Those who are humiliated in such a way learn to disintegrate – that is, they become once removed from pain. This is the most direct route to psychic ruin. ~ Antonella Gambotto-Burke

You've won," Jack said softly. He looked at Mimi with such fiery hatred that she almost cowered at his words. But she was no weakling. She was Azrael, and Azrael did not cower, not even to Abbadon.
"I've won nothing," Mimi replied coldly. "Please remember that almost all of the Elders are dead, that the
Dark Prince is ascendant, and what is left of the Conclave is being led by a broken man who used to be the strongest of us all. And yet all you seem to care about, my darling, is that you no longer get to play with your little love toy."
Instead of answering her, Jack flew across the room and slapped her hard across the face, sending her
crashing to the floor. But before he could wield another blow, Mimi leaped up and slammed him against the window, knocking him completely out of breath.
"Is this what you want?" she hissed as she lifted him up by his shirt collar, his face turning a ghastly shade of red.
"Don't let me destroy you," he sneered.
"Just try, my sweet."
Jack twisted out of her grasp and flipped her over, kicking her down the length of the room. She sprung up with her hands clenched, her nails sharp as claws, and fangs bared. They met halfway in the air, and Jack put a hand on her throat and began to squeeze. But she scratched at his eyes and wrenched her body so that she was rolling on top of him, her sword at his throat, with the upper hand.
SUBMIT. Mimi sent.
NEVER. ~ Melissa De La Cruz

These days, Countess, every cabbage has its pimp. ~ Jean Giradoux

The crowd started going crazy. Like even crazier than when Romeo got up from the hit. I was clinging to the railing, wondering if I would like prison, when Ivy sighed. "I swear. You have all the luck."
Confused, I glanced around. Romeo was jogging toward us, helmet in his hands. Quickly, I glanced at the big screen and it was showing a wide shot of me clinging onto the rails and him running toward us.
When he arrived, he slapped the guard on his back and said something in his ear. The guard looked at me and grinned and then walked away.
Romeo stepped up to where I was. At the height I was at one the railing, for once I was taller than him.
"You're killing me, Smalls," he said. "I had to interrupt a championship game to keep you from going to the slammer."
"I was worried. You didn't get up."
"And so you were just going to march out on the field and what?"
God, he looked so… so incredible right then. His uniform stretched out over his wide shoulders and narrow waist. The pads strapped to his body made him look even stronger. He had grass stains on his knees, sweat in his hair, and ornery laughter in his sparkling blue eyes.
I swear I'd never seen anyone equal parts of to-die-for good looks and boy-next-door troublemaker.
"I was going to come out there and kiss it and make it better."
He threw back his head and laughed, and the stadium erupted once more. I was aware that every moment between us was being broadcast like some ~ Cambria Hebert

So I might have to marry Alec when I'm grown," Illia was prattling across to Seregil. "I hope that won't hurt your feelings too much."
Seregil slapped a hand over his heart like a troubadour in a mural. "Ah, fair maiden, I shall slay a thousand evil dragons for you, and lay their steaming black livers at your dainty feet, if only you will restore me to your favor."
"Livers!" Illia buried her face against Alec's shoulder with an outraged giggle.
"You wouldn't bring me livers, would you, Alec?"
"Of course not," Alec scoffed. "What a disgusting present. I'd bring you the eyeballs for a necklace, and all their scaly pointed tongues to tie your braids with. ~ Lynn Flewelling

For example, I'm terribly proud. I'm as mistrustful and as sensitive as a hunchback or a dwarf; but, in truth, I've experienced some moments when if someone had slapped my face, I might even have been grateful for it. I'm being serious. I probably would have been able to derive a peculiar sort of pleasure from it-the pleasure of despair, naturally, but the most intense pleasures occur in despair, especially when you're very acutely aware of the hopelessness of your own predicament. ~ Fyodor Dostoevsky

This household is like a pocketful of coins that jingled together for a time, but now have been slapped on a counter to pay a price. The pocket empties out, the coins venture back into the infinite circulation of currency, separate, invisible, and untraceable. ~ Barbara Kingsolver