Here’s the first raffle of the raffle-pa-looza. The prize is Forbidden, my first book. Comment even if you have it so you’re entered to win the grand prize.
Here’s an excerpt fron FORBIDDEN:
“Goddess, you are beautiful.” His voice was reverent.
Turning her back to the mirror, Cryessa faced her beloved.
“As are you.”
“I have missed you.”
“It has been half a day since last I touched you.”
“Even a moment is too long; a breath turns into an eternity when I am not with you.” The truth of his words was in his eyes, those haunting, lavender eyes.
“Tamlohn.” She said his name as a warning, reminding him with that single word of all the reasons why what they did was wrong.
He lowered his eyes. She could feel him fighting to lock away emotions so strong that, if released, could destroy their world. The moment passed in pregnant silence.
When he raised his eyes, there was a teasing sparkle to them and his lips were cocked, just waiting to grin.
“You really must get a new attendant.”
She sighed in mock exasperation. “We have been over this.”
“We have. Giselle is not getting any smarter.”
Smothering a laugh at the unkind comment, Cryessa stepped off the platform and picked up the embroidered blue material. She wanted to check that the pinning hadn’t done any lasting damage.
“She is a good and loyal girl, and should be valued as such.”
“You need an attendant who is as wicked as you, my love.”
“I beg your pardon, slave? Did you just call me wicked?”
“Did I say wicked? What I meant was depraved, dangerous, and deadly.”
This time she laughed out loud. “How dare you; I am the light.”
He snagged her by her bare waist and pulled her back against his chest. “You are a light that burns.”
“I will make you pay for your slander against me.”
“Goddess, I hope so.”
“I shall lock you in a room lined with pink, fluffy pillows.”
At his disconcerted stare, Cryessa threw her head back and laughed. Whirling away from him, she pranced backwards.
“Come to me, slave.”
“As my Priestess demands.” There was no humility in his words, only thick anticipation, and a grin splitting his face.
Mockingly, he bowed low. As he bent, she called out, “Stop there.”
Immediately he stopped, his body bent in an inverted L.
Skipping back across the room, she circled his prone body, the position reminiscent of the morning’s presentation position, with one major difference—he was wearing clothes.
Stepping near his head, she twined her fingers into his hair. She had allowed him to keep the hairstyle of his native people. The top section was pulled back into a tail high at the back of his head. The middle section just above each of his ears was then pulled back and a second tail was created including the hair from the first. The rest of his hair was left to flow to his shoulders. Each section was bound tight against his head with a strip of tooled leather.
It was into the thick rope of hair bound by the leather straps that she sank her fingers, curling them until she had complete control of his head.
“Slave,” she purred, “since when are you allowed to wear clothes?”
He tried to raise his head and look at her, no doubt wondering at the new game she had decided to play, but she held his head down.
“Ah… well, Priestess, I was not aware I had been disallowed—”
“Tsk, tsk, don’t lie, slave. I told you the day I bought you that you weren’t allowed clothes.”
“Beg pardon, Mistress.” His change in address signaled he understood she was playing.
“I will have to punish you for disobeying me.” Reaching back with her other hand, she delivered a hard spank to his leather clad buttocks.
“Oh yessssssss, Mistress.”
“Sound afraid, damn it!”
Tamlohn snorted with laughter, his big shoulders shaking with mirth at her disgruntled command. “Ah, er, oh no please, Mistress, not that!”
She was unable to hide her smile.
“You are hopeless.”
“One of these days, I really will forbid you the use of clothes.”
“That will leave me ill prepared to defend you, my love.”
She jerked his head up a bit, allowing his body to unbend slightly. Her eyes met his and, like an unexpected summer storm, need came over her.
“On your knees.”
Without a word he sank down, his knees splayed wide on the stones.
“Open your pants and remove your shirt; expose yourself to me.”
His training was flawless; without question, he obeyed.
With a quick motion, he unbuckled the leather vest that wrapped over his torso. Next his tunic, a rich green in color, was pulled over his head exposing a muscled, scar-bedecked chest.
He hesitated for a moment as if waiting for her to comment, but Cryessa remained silent, waiting for him to carry out his orders.
Next his hands dropped to his pants. The pants were laced up the outside of each leg. He undid first the left, then right sides, plucking the laces free to half way down each thigh. With that done, he tugged the front of the pants down, exposing the vulnerable flesh of his cock and sac.
Now exposed, her slave raised his hands and laced them behind his head. The only deviation from perfect slave procedure was his gaze, which rested on her face instead of on the floor.
The cravings inside her rolled and withered in delight at his obedience, his subservience. Stepping close to him, she slipped her thumb into his mouth. Immediately he began to suckle it.
Hands lowered from behind his head and went to his cock, one fisting at the base of the shaft, the other lightly petting his sac.
Pulling her finger from his mouth, she slapped him across the lips, hard. She had to punish him. Punish him for the desire he raised in her, so much greater a need than she felt for the others.
His head turned slightly at the slap, outlines of her fingers appearing across his lips and cheek, but his fingers kept stroking, obeying.
Bending, she kissed his cheek, a fleeting brush of lips. The kiss pressed magic into his skin, causing the pain to flare brighter before it vanished altogether. Straightening once more, she reached for his head and, without a word, brought it to her mound.
His abused lips brushed the soft blond hair there and then delved deep into her sex. With his neck bent at a painful angle, his tongue deftly parted her nether lips, opening her, and allowing her rich wetness to flow out. His tongue lapped at the inner folds of her sex, broad flat strokes against the sensitive pink flesh.
Dissatisfied with the angle, Cryessa shifted her weight, raised one foot to his chest and pushed. With a grunt, Tamlohn dropped his hands, bracing himself as she pushed him onto his back, and then quickly arranged himself on the floor. Lying on his back, his hands once more went to work on his shaft, now fully erect.
Stepping between his bent and spread legs, she kicked his knees as far apart as they would go. When she nudged one hand away from his sac with her toes, he stopped pumping and pulled hard on his cock. He pulled it up towards his chest to best expose his balls to her. He was totally vulnerable like this; she could do him great hurt if she abused him here. The fact that he trusted her, that he would accept it if she did choose to abuse him, sent a shiver of pure lust through her.
“Keep stroking, but you may not come.”
Without another word, she stepped around his body and knelt astride his head. She heard him take a deep breath the moment before she lowered herself, placing her needy, wet sex on his face. Leaning forward, she rested her hands on his chest, digging her nails into his flesh. This put some of her body weight on her arms, but most rested on his head, pressed between her body and the stone floor.
Tamlohn slicked his lips, cheeks, and nose through her soft flesh. Opening his lips, he took her clit into the cavern of his mouth, sealing his lips and sucking not only her soft clit, but a mouthful of her pussy flesh deep into the vacuum he created. He buried his nose near the entrance to her body, his world full of the earth scent of her arousal.
“Lick my clit.” The command was accented by a sharp slap to his inner thigh so unexpected that he cried out against her sex, muffling the sound in warm, wet flesh.
Obediently he set his tongue to work, placing it flat against the nub and rubbing back and forth. When his jaw grew tired, he pulled back slightly and gave quick, hard flicks with the pointed tip of his tongue. He then studiously worked over the tiny bit of flesh, coaxing the ultra sensitive core out from its hood.
Cryessa raked her nails over the skin of his belly, drawing eight red lines on his pale flesh. Her world was in her sex, in her clit where he so skillfully kissed her. As she felt her orgasm approach, she reached down, and feeling deliciously cruel, pulled his hands away from his cock. For a moment, his hips humped the air, desperately seeking the stimulation she chose to deny. A breath later, his bare ass settled against the stones once more, accepting her denial.
Pushing herself upright, she lifted slightly to be sure he could hear.
“Until I come, your world is my sex. You will not breath but for the air in my body, nor see but for the darkness of my womb.”
With that she lowered herself fully onto his face, arching her back and bracing her hands on her calves. She felt his face sink deep into her body; the lips of her sex flush on his cheeks, his nose sunk into the entrance to her body.
Then she thought no more, for he began to move, his face rocking inside her sex. His lips and tongue focused on her clit, alternating hard with soft, biting with kisses. She forced herself to stay still, giving him no reprieve.
His chest heaved as he tried not to take a breath; when he could stand it no more he gasped in a deep breath, dragging precious little air into his mouth while her warm wetness spilled over his lips and coated his cheeks.
She was close, so close. His desperate breath pulled cold air over her heated flesh, drawing a gasp. The constant moving pressure of his lips on her clit had brought her to the edge, her toes curled, her jaw clenched.
She was there, he could feel it, and he knew how to send her over. He closed his teeth around her clit, biting hard, knowing the moment of orgasm would make it sweet.
Her world exploded in golden dust the color of Tamlohn’s soul. The already magic laden air shivered, the discarded fabric of her dress fluttering in a magic fueled windstorm. Like a flash flood, pleasure enveloped her, sweeping her away, only to retreat as swiftly.
He held her clit gently between his lips as the windstorm died. In her orgasm, she had moved enough that he was able to breathe. When she stroked his throat with her fingers, he released her clit, swiping the fresh moisture from her inner lips with a parting sweep of his tongue.
In the next moment she rose, giving him a lovely view of the sex he had just tended. The sight did nothing to calm his raging arousal.
“Damn it to the North Wind, I will be late.”
Tamlohn swallowed back a protest. It was her right to leave him like this. He had no right to demand that she allow him satisfaction. But, for a moment, he hated her. Hated that she had all the power and he none.
Sitting up, he pinched hard at the base of his cock, gritting his teeth. His erection was not gone but it was diminished. Since he didn’t have time to re-lace his pants he settled for pulling the ties through the upper grommets and tying it there. It was enough to keep the pants on, with the added benefit of giving him room for his erection.
Taking a deep breath, he stood and tried to calm himself, but could not shake some of his anger, his hurt. Why now, he could not say, but lately these surges of anger had been coming on more strongly, and were less easily pushed aside. This was their life, and always would be.
“Send for a servant.”
“Why have a servant dress you? Who knows your body better than I? I can have you dressed anon.” His eyes were now a deep violet, intense and mysterious—angry.
“It is beneath you to dress me. You are the Prima Zin…”
Suddenly his eyes shot fire. “No part of caring for or protecting you is beneath me. It is all I have. You are the air I breathe. Are you so eager to have another here? Have you grown weary of your pitiful slave begging for time alone with you?”
“Do not say that.”
“It is true.”