Friday Free Read: An Audio Excerpt from "Lady in Chains"

Today's free read comes from my current work in progress: Lady In Chains, Book 1 ~ Enslaved. This fantasy BDSM romance unites Bannon and Sadira, a barbarian hero and a desert "pet", in the aftermath of war between their two nations.

Remember this scene is NSFW and NC17. You probably want to enjoy it from the safety of a pair of good headphones...but if you can't listen with headphones, the text version of the scene is below the cut. Apologies for the hum...One day I'll be an expert at weeding out extra noise when recording!

Friday Free Read: Pet

 This Friday's Free Read is an experimental snippet from my current Work-in-Progress, Master Me.

 

 

She was called a 'pet'. Actually, there were many names for her, but 'pet' was most accurate. To Set and the men of his cult, slaves like she were prominent symbols of power. A man could not truly be honored as a master, until he had taken one of his own.

 

Ravaged Blog Tour, Day 4: Raschael's Top 10 Guide to Seducing the Clergy - from "Wages of Sin"

My second tale in the Ravaged Anthology is one of my own favorites, The Wages of Sin.  While I'd love to regale you all with my own interpretation of the piece, instead I give you another of my "Special Features":

Angel Raschael's Top Ten Guide

to Seducing the Clergy

My name is Raschael.  I am of the First Blood of Demons, the fallen ones.  Nowadays we are commonly referred to as incubi and succubae.  Among my clan, I am employed as a temptress and a spy; great men and women are often at their most vulnerable when they have allowed themselves to be seduced.  I deal with some degree of specialty in men and women of the cloth.  So it is with great pride I give you my own Top Ten Guide to Seducing the Clergy.

1.      Make Confession – Oh, the confessional booth.  Is there any place more perfect for whispering deep, dark secrets and salacious little hints?  The confessional provides an ideal amount of privacy, and best of all, a tailor-made excuse to talk dirty.  

2.      Seek Faith – "After hours", shall we say?  Discover a time when the church is likeliest to be empty, and be sure to drop by... unexpectedly.

3.      Offer up Your Heart – Show him your soft side, your vulnerable side... that shy, innocent, wide-eyed Catholic schoolgirl side.

4.      Ask Forgiveness –. Make a subtly improper proposition—then, when chastised, very quickly take it back, and feign immediate chagrin.  Oh, shame on you! 

5.      Where Two (or Three!) Are Gathered... – There's ample space within a church where an illicit couple might be alone: the vestry, the balcony, the choir room.  Find excuse to... 'make use' of them.

6.      Sing His Praises –Be sure to mention often—and in dangerous proximity to the rest of his flock—how very, very much joy he brings you. What a good, attentive priest he is... so skilled in the ways of... worship.

7.      Search the Scriptures – Do you know how many naughty tales there are in the Bible? Hell, Song of Songs is a whole book devoted to erotic love. If you don't believe me, ask your priest to explain the verse, "his fruit is sweet to my taste"... then watch him turn red.

8.      Receive Baptism – Think of the sight of you in that white robe, all wet, clinging to your curves... all the better if you wear nude-colored underthings, or if you're very, very devoted, nothing at all.

9.      Cast Your Cares Upon The Lord – And then, cast your clothes upon the floor.

10.  Call Upon the Name of God – over... and over... and over...

This post is part of the Ravaged Blog Tour!  Remember to enter our giveaway for a chance to win one of seven copies of the book for free!

Scarves (Pt 3)

<Pt 2

She groaned, tilting her head towards his voice, arching her back to press herself closer into his hands.  His heat radiated against her, making her quiver.  She wanted him, oh, God how she wanted him; she would offer him anything, let him do anything he liked—she was desperate for him.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he muttered, and she uttered a sad sound as he carefully drew away from her.  She’d betrayed her want too early; now he was going to deny her.

She strained for him, following the sounds of his movements, desperate for him.  He circled her again, paused; circled the other way, paused.  He was just out of reach—not that she had any hands to reach with—teasing her with his nearness, his unrelenting distance.

Scarves (Pt 2)

<Pt 1 

It was as she had suspected: she was forced to stand on her toes, grasping the scarves to steady herself, or else strain both shoulders with her full weight.  She gasped a little and her highlander pulled her arms even higher, stretching her reach further, leaving her even more precariously balanced.

“Sadira,” he murmured lowly, running a rough, callused hand across her bare breasts, vulnerable little teacups spread almost flat by the stretch of her arms, the arc of her spine.  He circled her, touching her, trailing his hands idly over her nudity, tickling her and making her tremble as she danced from toe to toe.

Scarves (Pt 1)

Orange torchlight; the rock and sway of percussive song, the embrace of flute, dulcimer, cymbal, drum.  The men watched, enraptured by the winding twist of her hips, the sinuous motion of naked sensuality, following the shimmering gold firelight over bared breasts and long, slender legs.  Sadira’s tawny mane fell wild to her shoulders, held back from her face by a headdress of beaten bronze and adorned with great feathers of exotic birds; thin braids, wound with ribbons and small red jewels, fell at different lengths behind her ears.  As she slowly spun in place, weaving her arms in seductive rhythm over her head, the light of the fires lighting up her savage curves, the dark lines of the tattoos marking her hips and shoulders—markings of her former allegiance to a fallen clan and fallen master—wound with her, a map of her ignoble heritage, a testament to her alien origins.

The men around her cared little for the marks, however.  The foreign beauty, famed as a lover and a soldier to their greatest enemy, now danced for them, enchanting them and pleasing them, impressing them with the sultry talents they might never have expected from one who had been raised in the way of swords and combat.  One who knew the woman’s story might have recognized the distant aloofness on her face even as she arched her body, displaying herself for her enemies, the clan of rugged highlanders that had captured her and kept her prisoner so far from her homeland.  One who had heard the tales of her might expect the beautiful slave yet harbored a searing fury and distrust in her heart, a plan of rebellion in her mind—that observer might even believe he caught a glimpse of something like the subtlest hint of a sneer  across her lips, the defiance of a legend brought low.

~ Slave ~

Completed illustration for To The Victor.

"Slave", copyright 2012

To The Victor

Overhead, she could hear the sounds of the enemy celebrating.  It was a raucous uproar, a hundred men dancing on the grave of her master, the great warlord known as Set.  He had been slain by the leader of the barbarians.  His power was broken.  His clan was in chains.

His woman was their prisoner.

Sadira bowed her head, a grim and bitter scowl on her face.  They had captured her and bound her with ropes, tying her wrists and ankles, and thrown her into her master’s bedchamber for their leader.  She waited on her knees on the bed, stripped of her leather armor, left in only a thin cotton bodice and a flimsy loincloth to cover her nakedness. 

But that was nothing new.  She had been slave all her life to Set and his sadistic madness: she had been servant, soldier, consort and victim to his whims, a prize for his pleasure.  To be honest she was glad he was dead;  she had lived on her knees before him, exactly as she was now, and more than once she had wished she could be the one to sink the blade into his heart.

Art Work in Progress

Preliminary pencils for my new work in progress.  This is the first time I've drawn the figures fully nude and 'showing off', as it were; this is especially true of the male figure.  Though I've drawn male anatomy in beginning stages for purposes of spacing and proportion, this is the first time I've drawn the full penis as part of the composition.  Originally I intended to put loincloths on both characters, but after a little thought it would be better practice for me to pursue full nudity.


These two characters come from a short story I will soon be posting, featuring bondage and my first attempts at exploring BDSM and M/s in erotica.

Once Bitten

Possible Trigger Warning:

Contains scenes of supernatural horror

She sat beside the window of her small room, the humble cell she had occupied in the boarding house since she was a very, very young girl.  It was raining outside, a steady rhythm of autumn song, turning the whole pleasure quarter into a gleaming wet jewel in the night.  It was cold outside—she felt the night breeze tickle her arms underneath the fabric of her kimono, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Are you almost ready, Ayame?”

The young maiko turned to give a nod to her onee-san, her mentor, a lovely and experienced geisha that was everything like an older sister to her.  She rose gracefully from her spot by the window and slipped on her okobo shoes—tonight, when she returned to the okiya, she would no longer be the little apprentice with the red collar, who needed Big Sister to manage all her accounts and possessions, all her training in the okiya.

After tonight, she would be geisha, just like onee-san herself.

This was to be the night of her mizuage ceremony.  Ayame’s older sister had spent days receiving bids for the right to deflower the beautiful maiko, a coming-of-age that would issue her into the full splendor of life as one of the pleasure-quarter’s most admired artists and entertainers.  Ayame had been well-loved in Edo, a maiko sought after by many men.  Tonight, one of those men would take her to his bed, and make her a woman.