He awakens helplessly bound to a bed, and suddenly she’s there… the formidable Serena. If she doesn’t want him for ransom, why then has he become her captive?

He let out a gasp and jumped in his bonds when the door crashed open and the woman swept in. He’d been certain that he would recognise her but no, he’d definitely never seen her before. He would without a shadow of a doubt have remembered it if he had ever set eyes on her previously because she was quite stunningly beautiful, a dark-haired Amazonian vision beyond compare.

She had exotically high cheekbones, a straight nose, generous lips, and big hypnotic eyes the colour of mahogany. Her black hair was soft and shiny and hung straight down to her shoulders. She had a lush body, with a big frame and a sumptuous well-proportioned figure. It was displayed to great effect by the extremely short, almost see-through purple dress that she was wearing and underneath which she was obviously naked.

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Three fresh young girls, as nubile and buxom as they should be, sit up against cold stone walls, to which they are tied, and tied together to prevent one from escaping at the expense of the others, in the crypt in the old cemetery. The sixth lord Beavan, attired in moth-eaten old frock-coat and black leggings, as one would expect, stands above them with finger to red lips, appraising.

“Damn that baron Skailurker.” He mutters under his breath. For he is finding it hard to choose between these three darlings. Two of them are to be made companions of, leaving the one remaining for their first meal.

He surveys them with the trained eye of one accustomed to the appraisal of potential suitors for well over a hundred years now, but still he has difficulty. Perhaps, he muses, the standard has increased in recent decades, since it was never this hard. See, regard their differences. Neophyte number one is pert, and wears her bonds well, the silken wrists by silken rope together and held out in front, the noose around the neck like lace; she looks up at him with pearly grey eyes, not pleading at all, resigned to whatever the goddess Kismet has granted her; her thin, white frame is not bony, not skeletal, her bottom exaggerated accordingly, her breasts small and firm. And then eyes follow rope along at the neck to virgin number two, an exotic beauty from across the Siriun sea, perhaps from the rich kingdom of Lirania, has a look of defiance on her face, and tugs at her ropes now and again, and her teeth have become jagged from repeated attempts at biting through those wrist-bonds; when her lord looks down at her she looks up in defiance, her black eyes speaking for her gagged mouth. Her dark brown skin gleams beautifully in the torchlight, her generous curves catching flames in the dark. And the third, she looks up wistfully from time to time, as if pleading; such a temperament is one in which the master does not delight, but she is easily the most comely of the three. Her thighs are well firmed and her calves, in his opinion, have just that right mass of muscle to give her real strength while still looking light, her back is smooth and sculpted in two by her slender spine, and the eyes, blue, blue as the sky he once gazed upon when he was alive. And she also wears her bonds well, he thinks, does not struggle but slips into them, becomes accustomed to them as if she had been fitted into them by her own personal tailor. Yes, he thinks, perhaps I shall be her own personal tailor.

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Tags: debauchery, dungeons and dragons erotic fiction, vampires

I become aware of being in the body again, as my spirit has been forced to return due to the pain of the iron manacles biting into its wrists. As I slowly open the eyes to the gloom, I see him standing before me.

I am Bellderine, I have ended up in the body that I now inhabit, and now which binds me to the earth in a more solid form as a response to Raedwald’s pleads to his God that something be done to cure him of his evil and sinful imaginings. However, the only thing that can stop his deviant imaginings increasing in magnitude in his mind is if he manages to act them out.

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Tags: fantasy erotica, possession, sprite

I remember at college reading about some sick experiment they carried out in the forties. They got somebody in a white coat (supposedly a doctor) to tell the subjects (guinea-pigs) to turn a dial, reassuring them that nothing bad was going to happen. Then they got a guy in a neighbouring room to scream every time the dial was turned. The doctor instructed the subjects to turn the dial even after the screaming man would fall suddenly silent, as if dead. Every one of those guinea pigs turned that dial even after the screaming stopped. They believed the guy in the white coat, even though their instincts told them they might be doing something terrible. This showed that most people would do anything on the instructions of someone in authority.

I never forgot reading about that experiment, which is why I suspect that I am now being set-up. I’m supposed to be interrogating the mark. According to the file I’ve been given to read, he’s one of our guys. He got involved with a sexy young girl who was an enemy agent.

The mark (code name ‘Ivan’) sits behind a two-way mirror. We can see him, but he can’t see us, only his own reflection. He’s attached to a wooden chair by thick leather straps around his arms, legs, and neck. His testicles are wired up to a socket in the wall. We get the truth by sending a painful current through the wire, controlled by a dial on the desk at which I’m sitting.

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A little film scenario about how things are not always what they seem. Just imagine you’re sitting in the cinema and saw the following on the screen:

First Scene

A gloomy landscape at dusk. A knight in black armour on a black steed is darting over the screen. In front of him, a bound and struggling bundle is strapped to his horse. Dramatic music in the background. Close-up on the bundle. It is a young woman with long blond hair. She is trapped in a sack, and only her face can be seen. A big gag seals her mouth. A voice from beyond: The black knight has chosen his victim once again. Each year he abducts one of the most beautiful virgins. No one so far has dared oppose him. But this time he has gone too far. He has abducted the king’s daughter.

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Tags: damsel in distress, knight in shining armour, medieval erotica

And so, as the prophecies had intended, some nine months later did the young mortal woman give birth. She did not survive the ordeal, of course, on account of her progeny’s two sharp little horns and spindly little wings. She bled to death over a period of about three hours.

The first despicable act of her infernal daughter, for that matter, was to lap up the blood as it drifted out of her, and, since her incisive teeth were already fully formed, and had actually proven themselves useful in the womb, she also took quite a few healthy bites out of her flesh once the blood had dried up. Thus did she earn her name, Ahara, which in a certain language roughly translates as ‘the eaten one’, or even ‘the eating one’, or something equally similar and distasteful.

She was psychic, to start with. Once she had finished her first meal she looked up to her father, the Balor Lord Malevans Phn’Glaz Razz’a'el (the third), who had been there to witness the unholy birth, together with his faithful right hand fiend the Molydeus Lydus, and daughter the Succubus Lilith, and telepathically sent to him that she was pleased with the feast. The attendant company smiled.

“She’s going to be a feisty one, alright.” Remarked the Balor to his daughter, “Didn’t I say her mother would produce excellent offspring?”

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Tags: dungeons and dragons erotic fiction, lesbian bdsm, succubus

Contrary to popular opinion, the possibilities of love in a zero-g environment have not yet been exhausted. Take the case of Major Melissa Husserl, for example. She had, on her first assignment, been found guilty by the rest of the crew of the scout ship Eurydike of something or other (details restricted), and it was decided that she must walk the plank. Thus was she stripped, dressed in one of those transparent spacesuits so beloved of pleasure cruisers, and ceremoniously thrown out the back of the ship, with nothing but a mass of lifelines attached to her behind. Ah, those tubes and wires wrapping themselves around her writhing figure in the zero-g, Major Husserl powerless to stop her tumbling this way and that, the ship drifting forwards to accentuate her fall, so graceful against that starry backdrop, while the crew gazed at the viewscreen for the entire evening…

Tags: erotic science fiction

The d’Aubergé’s house lay very remotely in the British countryside, with a gigantic garden encircling it, akin to a maze. The two d’Aubergé daughters loved playing in this garden in summer time, and one of my duties as a maid was, of course, to clean up after them. For although the two girls were old enough to be tidy themselves – one was 17, the other 19 – they took great pleasure in making me run after them, laughing mischievously at me falling over in my high heels in the soft grass. In fact, the girls were quite the villainous types, and the following tale is but one example of how they played with and tormented me.

It was one bright summer afternoon, and Madame d’Aubergé called her daughters out into the garden for tea. Because I had carelessly spilled some soup in the morning, Madame had made me wear iron manacles on my feet for the rest of the day. This, coupled with the heels and the grass, made my walk extremely awkward, so I proceeded with great care. Carrying out the tray with the tea, I watched the two girls, lying on a white blanket on the grass, making jokes about me. My predicament saddened me, but one thing comforted me, and that was Madame’s impartial discipline. For while I was manacled, the girls were wearing white corsets, laced up very tightly. Madame wanted to make sure that they learned how to move and sit gracefully in the open nature.

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Tags: french maid erotic fiction, tales from the neighbourhood

The life of a French Maid was not an easy one at the turn of the nineteenth century. I remember being in the service of the d’Aubergés, a rich and upper class family who lived in a secluded mansion in the British countryside. My master was Sir Mark d’Aubergé, but he was out of the house for most of the day, and so I was alone with my Mistress, Madame d’Aubergé, and the two daughters for most of time.

As I said, the d’Aubergés lived in a secluded place, however, they had a very prominent social life, and there wasn’t one ball where noblesse and other elites met, that they didn’t attend. It was for this reason that Madame d’Aubergé educated her daughters in etiquette and grace with the greatest care.

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Tags: french maid erotic fiction, tales from the neighbourhood

His infernal majesty, the Balor Lord Malevans Phn’Glaz Razz’a'el (the third), was bored. He was perched atop his golden and flaming throne, his elbow resting on the arm of that fiery seat, his hand supporting his head, his great red wings shifting a little as if in a breeze, and was gazing out over his immense throne room, and was bored.

“Lydus,” he suddenly said, “I’m bored. What plaything can you offer me today?”

Lydus’ two heads looked up, the wolf-like one grinning and snarling, the snake-like one simply wavering a little and hissing. “We do have the banquet tonight, if you remember?”

“Ah, yes. The banquet. What’s on the menu?”

“Well,” growled Lydus, “I think Raikh has a few things in mind. Why don’t we go down to the dungeons and see what he has – to alleviate your infernal majesty’s boredom?”

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Tags: ahara chronicles, dungeons and dragons erotic fiction