Black Leather & New Boundaries – EXCERPT

Ariyel Esmund introduced Ren Noletta, a bookkeeper, to an erotic world of dominance and submission. And then he introduced her to his friend, Creed Bennett. The two men took Ren on a journey of discovery until finally she had to make a choice between white leather or black. Now, in a new environment of whips and chains and floggers, suspension bars and bondage, Creed will take Ren even further with an exploration of her darker, hidden desires.

Not regretting her choice, Ren continues sexual lessons with her new Dom, a mysterious man with closely held secrets. But rather than being put off by Creed’s reticence to share every facet of his life with her, Ren is drawn deeper into his compartmentalized lifestyle. Though Creed is a man who rules his world with a strong hand, he uses slightly different methods of seduction and domination on Ren rather than forcing her, and she falls for him hard. New York City is a different beast from her tame-cat environment of lonely, small-town life, and Creed gives Ren new, unexpected boundaries to challenge her. Will Ren accept the additional tasks Creed presents? And where exactly does love fit into the texture of this frighteningly delicious relationship?

EXCERPT

Food for Thought. Tonight Creed surprised her. He’d prepared dinner for her, an elegant feast of tender rosemary chicken, succulent honey-drenched baby carrots, wild rice, and a rich cherry cheesecake for dessert. The wine was a chilled white chardonnay from his cellar.

BlackLeatherNewBoundaries“I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone,” he said.

“You never tell me where you’re going. What you do is very secretive isn’t it?” She picked at the chicken, snagged one of the carrots and cut it into tiny pieces.

Like everything else, Creed was very deliberate and controlled when he ate. He cut things very precisely as though he had a comfortable, almost surgical skill with a knife. He chewed slowly as though savoring each bite. He picked up his glass and took a deep swallow of the wine. With a quiet, yet deliberate motion, he set the glass back on the table.

“It’s for your own protection, Ren. You don’t want to know the details of what I do. That’s the only way I can keep you–and keep you safe. Is dinner to your liking?”

Obviously, the conversation about his upcoming trip was closed. She tried to force her thoughts away from the fact he was leaving again, and turned toward the dinner and taking some comfort from the fact that he was with her tonight. And she planned to make the best of the evening.

After dinner, he gave her time in the guest bathroom with the hand-detailed gold and white wallpaper, luxuriously accessorized for guests, to prepare. Ren wondered about those guests, but then her attention was caught by something else–a silver rectangular gift box tied with a wide silver ribbon, setting on the counter in the bathroom in front of the antique oval mirror. She gasped with pleasure when she opened it. Inside was a short black satin robe with black roses embroidered around the hem and cuffs, and a pair of elegant, silk, black-and-silver stilettos, also embroidered with a matching design. They appeared to mirror her tattoo startlingly well.

She removed her beige heels, slipped out of the jade green business suit, unhooked and rolled down her beige stockings and removed them. She unfastened her light green satin garter belt, then folded all the garments neatly and set them inside one of the inset cupboards. When she finished her preparations, she donned the robe, tied the belt, then slipped on the heels. After one more glance in the mirror, she left the spacious bathroom.

Creed eyed her appreciatively when she entered the living room. He sat in a forest green winged-back chair in front of the fireplace. When he saw her, he set aside his snifter of cognac and rose to his feet.

“When I saw the robe in the shop, I knew you had to have it,” he said as she moved toward him and knelt down. “And then I found the heels at another shop not far away.” He placed a hand on top of her head. He smoothed it over her hair.

“Thank you, Sir. They’re perfect.”

He placed a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head back. His black eyes bore into her. “I enjoy shopping for you,” he murmured. “I enjoy it very much. I enjoy fantasizing about how you’ll look in the clothes I choose for you. Or how you’ll respond to the toys I discover. What I’ll do to you, and how you’ll scream with pleasure when I’ve made you come. Again and again. Just as you’ll do tonight.”

Then he leaned down to kiss her quite thoroughly, and possessively, leaving her breathless, but still yearning for more.

He brought her to her feet, then guided her through the hallways and down to his dungeon. It was a room with black walls and black-light tracking at ceiling and floor to illuminate it. There was an array of equipment, including the suspension bar. Ren was never as aware of her surroundings as when she was in Creed’s private dungeon. Her trust in Creed was never more evident as when she was hanging from the suspension rack.

She looked toward the wall displaying implements for chastisement and pleasure. She noted the horse, a cross, and, of course, the simple bed with iron head and baseboards, hung with matching chains and manacles. Which would he use tonight?

She stripped off the robe and he took it from her and hung it from a hook near the door. He led her to the suspension apparatus. She felt no fear. Ren trusted him implicitly.

“Tonight, we’ll see if we can turn something distasteful into something quite pleasant and in fact make you yearn to repeat the experience again and again. We’ll begin with a bit of sensory deprivation. Do you have a problem with that, Ren?”

She bowed her head. “Whatever you wish, Master.” She was excited. He had never failed to challenge her, to excite her, to please her. But she couldn’t deny there was a hint of fear of the unknown tingeing her excitement. That always magnified the experience.

He placed his hand at her lower spine and guided her forward. His bare hand, so warm. Calluses, a mark of the man unafraid of hard work. As he positioned her and bound her, she glanced at the wall, at the whips, the ropes, the chains. She wondered which of the whips he’d use tonight.

Available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XBPG6RV

An Excerpt from Trailmaster Phelix

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Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl, Ep. 3: Trailmaster Phelix. Now available on Amazon.

 

Island paradise hardly describes the erotic secret man-society Alonzo has entered…lust, love, passion, submission…possession…

There’s danger in the initiates becoming too closely acquainted. After a night of passion, Trailmaster Phelix arrives to change the balance. He’s been watching them and now he has an eye for Alonzo in particular. The jungle may not be the only challenge awaiting Alonzo…

 

An Excerpt from Trailmaster Phelix:

The Trailmaster’s firm hand clamped onto Alonzo’s jaw and tilted his head back. Flinty gray eyes that reminded Alonzo of forged iron looked down at him from a very great height. A flash of sunlight changed the color, suddenly reminding Alonzo of the barred cage at Wetham’s private club.

Just for you, Alonzo.

Wetham’s ghostly voice whispered inside his head. He heard the sharp clang as the door to the cage was closed, shutting him inside. The click of the steel lock, imprisoning him securely. The laughter of the men as they clinked glasses.

“So. You are Alonzo,” the Trailmaster said. “I’ve heard of you. You were much desired at the ceremony the other night. So much so in fact, that it’s said one of the Ancients had to have you.” Eyes focused on the sand, Alonzo said nothing. There was no question in that statement that required his response.

For you, Alonzo. Just for you.

“Well, we shall see just how amenable you are. That is what they call you, right? Amenable Alonzo?” The Trailmaster dropped his hand away, but he did not order Alonzo to join the others. “I am Trailmaster Phelix. You will address me as Master Phelix at all times. And you will follow every order I give you without question. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Phelix.”

“For this trip you shall serve as my…personal servant. You will track me, stay at my side, a step behind, serve my meals, attend to me in all ways. I’ve chosen you instead of one of the others because if I’ve judged right, your submissive nature will keep you in line without an inordinate amount of discipline. You’ve served men before, haven’t you? And not just common men, but gentlemen.”

More wine, boy. Fill our cups.

Alonzo, his legs manacled, the clink of chains rustling filling his ears, had served the gentlemen, filling each cut-glass, gold-rimmed goblet with the expensive wine. The chains, forged and fashioned in the ironworks owned by one of the fine gentleman, banded his wrists, grinding together as he moved to each man. His cock bobbed free as he shuffled from place to place.

Wetham’s specter, like some demon, constantly rode him, ever at the forefront of Alonzo’s mind. A collage of the other men, Wetham’s friends, marched across his memories.

Trailmaster Phelix, Ep. 3 of the Midnight Pearl Brotherhood

Now available on Amazon.

Unicorn Craving – An Excerpt

UnicornCraving_smUnicorn Craving, a quirky little erotic fantasy with fairies and magic and sexy shapeshifting unicorns.

Gillian Darby took a ride in the country to pick apples for a pie. She never expected to end up dropped in a whole other realm, apparently as the birthday gift for a unicorn prince. Gillian is an adventurous girl and takes up the offer of the sexy man with the thick white tail as his only adornment, to become his consort for the day in exchange for a basket of magical fruit. Being a chef with an eye toward fame, she was certain she was on her way and had made a very shrewd deal. Or had she? The handcuffs and the matching white tail accessory he present to her–might be another matter entirely.

Excerpt:

“Ah,” she said as she reached out with gnarled hands to clasp Gillian’s. “You have come. Excellent. Step inside, I have a gift for you.”

“B-but I don’t know you. How can you have a gift for me? How did you know I’d be here?”

The old woman chuckled softly. “I know who you are.” She turned and tapped the front of Gillian’s shirt where the gold-horned unicorn was displayed on the front. “This gift is for you, only for you.”

Hesitantly, Gillian followed her into the tent. What could it hurt? A person didn’t discover special one-of-a-kind items by being shy and reluctant. That’s one thing she’d learned over the years. A person had to take a chance or two if they wanted to break away from the pack.

The interior of the tent was dark and smelled of sandalwood incense, and her tense muscles eased as she inhaled the woodsy aroma. The old woman turned to face her, blue eyes glittering like sapphires in the gloomy interior.

“Yes, you will do nicely. He’s waited long enough.”

“Do for what? Who are you talking about?”

She waved a hand in the air above her head and Gillian heard the jangle of her bracelets. The sound was bell-like and sultry, almost rhythmically hypnotic. She blinked and shook her head. How eerie.

The old woman turned away to a display shelf, rustled around and then turned back. She held something out. “This is for you. You must take it with you on your journeys.”

Gillian looked down and her eyes rounded. “What is it?”

The old woman chuckled. “What do you think it is? It’s the unicorn’s horn. Today is his birthday and you must take it to him. Tell them Derrika sends a gift.”

“Derrika? Are you Derrika?”

The woman nodded. She then reached into a tan leather pouch hooked to her belt. She pulled out a pinch of sparkly blue powder and threw it into Gillian’s eyes.

Gillian quickly reached up to wipe it away. “What are you doing? Trying to blind me?”

“A little glamour to ease your journey. Nothing harmful…just a bit of magic.” Then Gillian felt the touch of the woman’s hand as she stroked the left side of her face. She traced a fingertip brow to jaw. “So lovely. He will not mind, I’m sure.” She tapped her cheek lightly and then lowered her hand. “That should protect you from the wrong sort.”

Gillian blinked, tearing up, and then her vision cleared. She gasped when she saw the woman clearly again. Or maybe not so clearly, for now she looked like she was at least forty years younger.

“Where—where—” she babbled incoherently.

The woman nodded and smiled. “You see? Not everything is quite what it appears.” She walked to the back of the tent and opened the flap. “It’s time for you to go. Remember to tell them Derrika sent you. Then they will know the gift is true. Maybe we’ll meet again when you least expect it.”

Slowly, Gillian walked over to the flap and peered out. “You want me to go down this alley?” It didn’t look like it was particularly inviting and there wasn’t another person in sight.

Derrika nodded. “Oh, yes. You will be quite safe. You’ll see when you reach the end.”

With amazing strength, the woman yanked her out beyond the tent and then closed the flap. Gillian hesitated, ready to turn back and circle around the tent that belonged to a crazy woman. But then something caught her eye at the end of the alley. A light that almost blinded her with its intensity. And there were apple trees with the brightest crimson apples, almost as though they had been dipped into wet glitter. They were certainly the largest she’d ever seen. She simply had to get a closer look.

The leaves on the trees were very close to a fluorescent shade of green. It felt like they were drawing her forward, one step at a time. Her spirit of adventure kicked in, and cautiously she made her way down the darkened alley toward the bright light at the end, clutching the golden horn close against her breast.

She thought she heard the soft echo of a feminine chuckle as she drew closer to the source of the bright light. And then she was at the end of the alley and poised at a world that seemed vastly different from what she had ever known. The trees were a bit farther away than she had at first thought. She didn’t see another soul around and all she heard was the whisper of the trees, the wind pulling at her to continue. And the smell of ripe, juicy apples.

How could she resist? She stepped from the dirt gravel of the alley onto the green grassy lawn. And screamed as the green lawn swallowed her up and she fell into empty space. Tumbling and somersaulting, unable to grab onto anything to stop her rapid descent, it seemed like she fell a long way.

And then she landed with a thump onto soft ground. She lay for a moment to catch her breath before trying to move. Finally, opening her eyes, she gazed around. Everything was so very green. She heard a noise coming from the other side of the bushes where she had landed. Curiosity got the better of her and, rising to her knees, she slowly separated the branches. Her mouth rounded in a shocked “oh” at what she saw.

“Oh, my.”

Unicorn Cravingpreorder now on Amazon, releasing December 26th.

Captivity now in Paperback!

At last, after much angst over creating and designing the paperback, it’s now available. Both the digital and paperback have been re-edited and released, which now includes the Prologue for this story.

 

Captivity by Adrianna Dane

NOW AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK AND DIGITAL
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Captivity-Adrianna-Dane/dp/1548697141. (It may be ordered through CreateSpace as well.)
Digital wherever fine ebooks are sold: http://books2read.com/captivity
Captive to the charisma of a powerful, sensual master – and slave to his own unquenchable desire. The winged man, once known simply as sthe wild thing, was free to roam the jungles outside Bendar City. Until he was betrayed, captured, and sold to a powerful lord who covets the birdman’s unique beauty for himself. Lord Adolpho Serratin of the Kalamadur Oasis maintains an unusual collection. Orion Birdwalker soon becomes the most precious of Serratin’s possessions, in more ways than one. The wild thing is soon named, tamed, and trained to serve his new master in all ways…
Read an excerpt: http://www.adriannadane.com/captivity.html

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#MM #masterslave #futuristic #fantasy #eroticromance #gay #bdsm

Steamy Little Excerpt from Eye Candy and Achy Hearts

In this excerpt from Eye Candy and Achy Hearts,  Jeffrey gets his first glimpse of EyeCandy2933. And a big “yum” for him.

 

Since Valentine’s Day to be exact—three days ago—the anticipation about meeting EyeCandy2933 was more stressful than knowing that my boss had just slimmed down his staff and informed us at a staff meeting that those of us left behind would have to pull our weight plus some. Translated, that meant stuffing forty-eight hours of work into twenty-four. This job was going to be the death of me. I hated it.

As my midnight hour drew closer, I kept thinking I should cancel. I glanced at the pile of paperwork on my desk that needed to be translated and transformed into tax advantages for our clients. I knew I wasn’t going to cancel. I definitely needed the fantasy.

John Smith and Douglas Jones. That’s the name the room was registered in. It was the type of hotel where the desk attendant didn’t ask questions. Not too sleazy, let’s just call them discreet. As long as the money wasn’t counterfeit, they could have cared less whose name was on the register.

On the night in question, my hand trembled as I slipped the key card into the door slot on the sixth floor of the Remington Hotel on West Main Street. Fuck! Red light. Try it again. Bzzzt! The story of my life. One more time. Three’s the charm, right? Green light meant go. Bells ringing. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Open Sesame. Stupid kid’s tale, as I entered my own Aladdin’s cave filled with what I hoped would be my personal jewel of exotic delight.

Opening the door to the hotel room, I couldn’t believe my luck. Brave soul was he. Far too trusting, I think. But he was young, not so jaded as I. At least he looked quite young. Maybe when I got closer I’d find the age lines that didn’t show up at a distance in a darkened room. He sat there, his back to me—his sexy, naked back, a slight curve to his deliciously long spine. Adonis or Cupid, I couldn’t decide. He was everything I’d fantasized he would be.

Resting next to him on the king-sized bed was a heart-shaped box. Looked like white satin, with a big red bow. But it wasn’t the candy box that caught my attention, it was the cute eye candy in the lacy white satin bikini undies—panties that matched the pattern of white satin on the candy box.

His online photo didn’t do him justice. No way, no how. I was salivating as I gazed at him. EyeCandy2933 certainly knew how to set up a sexy scene. I had to give him that. To the side, on the table, sat a bottle of cabernet, nicely chilling.

They were a set—he and the candy box. Small red bows decorated each side of his hips. Sitting there, on the bed like that, he held my rapt attention and my week of painful casualties slipped away. Casualties. Frustrated fantasies that never came to fruition.

Still, they hurt.

Of particular note was when Harvey Smith, the investment counselor who worked several floors above me, who’d given me some great advice, and for whom I’d had my romantic eye on for some time, announced at Willborn Pub, that he was getting married. And it wasn’t to me. I hadn’t even known he was involved with someone. I’d always thought someday maybe I’d get up the nerve to ask him out. Now it was too late. I always seemed to wait just a beat too long. But not this time I hoped.

The hotel door swung shut behind me with a solid latching sound of a small bank vault, shutting out the outside world. I forgot about Harvey.

Happy distraction. Happy Belated Valentine’s Day to me.

EyeCandy2933’s head was tipped to the side in demure fashion. Neatly trimmed thick wavy ink-black hair. Long, long black eyelashes swept downward in flirtatious shyness. A Persian harem boy, sweetly poised. At least a good fifteen years younger than me. Twenty maybe? No more than twenty-five, I’d say. At least that’s what he appeared from my less-than-astute assumptions on age. Minutia. Age, as long as he was legal, didn’t matter. And legal he was. He had golden tanned skin that spoke of long days spent in the sun. No tan marks that I could discern. He made me think of warm, Mediterranean, sapphire-blue, sparkling waters. Maybe he was Greek. Perhaps Italian. Maybe even Persian. His profile had been sketchy about his background. It didn’t really matter. He was perfect.

Then he craned his neck around to look at me and I caught my breath. Eyes of the Mediterranean, vivid and bright. Slowly he smiled, his teeth so white against his golden skin. Really nice smile.

“AchyHeart1945?” he asked, in a voice not too high, not too low. A tone that hinted at promises from between full lips that likely were fashioned to follow through on the invitation.

Though I couldn’t help blushing at the name—it was the first one that came to mind when I’d signed up for the dating site. I was frustrated with myself. Interesting that there were 1,944 other achy hearts before me. Once signed up I couldn’t take it back.

I cleared my throat.

“Yeah. I guess.”

He chuckled softly. “First time you’ve done something like this?” he gently asked.

I rubbed my sweaty palm against my trousers. “Yeah.” It was the only word that seemed to fully form inside my head.

I watched him unfold from the bed. Compact, hard in all the right places. The outline of his cock appeared stallion-proportioned beneath the flimsy lacy panties. God, but I loved those panties and what they hinted at. A swath of dark curly hair covered his well-constructed chest. More hair curled over the edges of the panties. Manly, I’d say. I liked that he wasn’t shaved. Pretty. Gorgeous. A mix of so many perfect things. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, white lace-wrapped packages, and dark eyes that spoke volumes.These are a few of my favorite things. Okay, maybe those aren’t quite the right lyrics. But mom’s favorite movie, The Sound of Music, kept that tune spiraling inside my head. We’d just come off a marathon of holiday viewing, so no wonder it kept replaying in my mind. But the lyrics, those I’d made my own. Too bad. I’m not a kid anymore and with age I’ve learned to adapt. So should a classic song, right?

He padded toward me. “You’re just as I imagined. Have you another name? You can call me Noelle. Online is one thing, but here, in person, it should be something more intimate, don’t you think?”

“Noelle?” That surprised me. It made me think of Christmas. It made me think of snowy nights wrapped up before the fireplace with someone special. But I didn’t have someone special. I’d had fleeting somethings. I’d had fantasies. But not much more. Nothing ever seemed to turn into forevers, only here-and-nows. Gone tomorrows. Just as this would, too. I had no doubt. Noelle was way out of my league. I’m surprised he agreed to the night of hot sex we planned. But at least this time it would be at my choosing, not someone else’s. It was me who had suggested the just-sex angle. It could be fun, I’d said.

Noelle shrugged. “If you don’t like the name, you can call me whatever you like.”

I couldn’t read him. He was perfect, but I sensed something beneath the surface. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He glanced down—down at my cock. Hard beneath my trousers.

“N-Noelle is fine. I like it,” I said. I loved it. But I couldn’t tell him that. I did wonder if the name was real or made-up. “Y-you can call me…” I took a deep breath, “Jeffrey.” There, I’d done it. I’d given him my real name. Well, my middle name actually. It was still better than AchyHeart1945.

His lashes fluttered upward as he looked up at me. “Can I touch you, Jeffrey?” he asked in a steamy, flirtatious, sort of coyish manner. I sensed he’d done this before.

Oh, God, if my cock could get any harder—impossible. “Yes. Please.”

From his lips against mine, open-mouthed, tongue searching, to the feel of his strong, warm hands inside my pants, gripping my cock, time spun out of control.

“Mmm, hard already,” Noelle said. “I like that. Let’s get you undressed. I’m thinking you need to put that somewhere tight and warm. Do you want to fuck me, Jeffrey?”

Releasing February 7th, preorder now on Amazon

 

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Valentine’s Countdown Releases – Preorder Now

Foreplay is everything. And to help that along here’s a couple of upcoming February releases to prime the passion, so to speak. Valentine’s Day Countdown. The month of love and red velvet and silk, and chocolates. All things that include a bit of sweet temptation. Two releases, now ready for preorder on Amazon. Eye Candy & Achy Hearts, a gay contemporary erotic romance is set for release on February 7th. And then on February 13th, The Forever Heart, a steampunkish fairy tale, involving a woman guilder who heals hearts, an automaton with a clockwork heart, and a king – the king of hearts.

Here’s a little more about these stories.

Eye Candy and Achy Hearts

[#MM #romance #erotic #kinkylace #chocolate #flirtyD/s]eyecandyachyhearts_med

 

Love has eluded Jeffrey all his life. In desperation late one night he signs up for an online dating site. What began as a way to ease Jeffrey’s aching lonely heart erupts into a real-life sexual encounter when he invites his online younger friend, EyeCandy2933 to join him in a steamy one-night hook-up, just for sex. Online fantasies can easily devolve into disappointment when confronted with real life. Will that be the case on this February night? When AchyHeart1945 finally meets EyeCandy2933, everything changes. Jeffrey may discover that love and romance at any age can be an amazing thing.

Teaser for you–

Friday night. It had been a long, exhausting week of not-so-happy surprises. I was desperate. I did this, perhaps selfishly, just for me.

I guess the devil had me by the balls when I sent off that message asking if he wanted to hook up in RL. That’s real life for those not in the know. I went full-out and revealed, in what felt like anonymous fashion, ’cause it was online and one can hide so easily behind a computer screen, my deepest, sexiest wet-dream fantasy. An online relationship can give you that kind of freedom. Makes you feel like you can just throw your fantasy out there, be someone you’re not. Be someone you want to be. I took my chances.

An email response from EyeCandy2933 told me I could have that fantasy. He wanted to give it to me. Sure, we’d been corresponding for several months now. Little flirtations, some pretty hot and sexy. Other times, late at night, we’d chat into the wee hours of the morning about anything and everything. The story of my life with relationships, I guess. I could ignore the email response he’d just sent me. I could ignore my yearnings. After all, I wasn’t the type to adventure out. I was a simple nerdy accountant who worked in a dusty little corner office with no windows. I was someone who didn’t have steamy, hot love affairs.

I thought about it for several days. There was something between us—EyeCandy2933 and me. We hadn’t just exchanged one-handed steamy explicit messages. We had actually “talked” about stuff that seemed to matter. So I took a chance, and almost gave myself a heart attack in the process.

I’ll be there.

I sent the message off, my heart pounding. What had I just done?

The Forever Heart

[#faiforeverheart_medry tale #fantasy #erotic #romance #MMF]

 

Valentina Peacock of the Kingdom of Hartfall is a hearthealer guilder; her lover, Flavio, is an automated man with a ruby heart. Valentina’s past is lost to her and her craft of mending broken hearts and her lover at her side are all she needs or wants. Suddenly her calm, well-ordered world is shattered when Flavio brings her a summons from the heart-king–it is a royal command to attend his court. Will a journey to court bring back her memories of a forgotten love? Or will it shatter her finally and forever?

 

A short excerpt–

Flavio was an automaton man, infused with magic—her best friend, her lover. She couldn’t remember how or when they had first met, but it seemed as though he’d been a part of her life forever. He never asked for more than she could give and always knew when she needed him.

A slight skip and a shudder in the movement of his heart had required her immediate attention. A hearthealer guilder, a precise and intimate craft to be sure—she would allow no one else to administer to the heart of the man whom she could not bear the thought of losing.

Even though she couldn’t remember the exact circumstances under which her own human heart had been broken, she remembered the undeniable devastation of loss. It was a feeling she did not wish to experience again.

The repair turned out to be minor, but necessary—a warped pinion replaced, the delicate toothed wheel realigned, the casing and other workings cleaned and glossed. Having replaced the cover, polished the ruby veneer to a flawless finish, she then carefully lifted the remarkable heart from the table and turned to the inanimate man positioned on the other side of the room.

She drew closer, looking at him, admiring the fine breadth and dimension. How she could have come to care so deeply for an automaton often surprised her, but care she did. He was beautiful with his long dark, silky hair, strong features and sensual lips. Her gaze lowered to the flaccid cock that rested quietly against his body. The magic that fueled his human qualities now rested dormant while she worked on his heart. But when he was animated, by the stars what a wondrous creature he was.

Valentina placed the precious mechanism into the opened cavity of his chest, securing it meticulously into the casing filled with delicate wiring, tiny springs, and shiny slotted wheels. Once satisfied, she closed the panel to his chest, fastened it securely, then pulled the brass key from the pocket of her white apron. She fitted it to his navel, and twisted it.

It took a delicate, steady hand—one attuned to the mechanism to wind properly without shifting and causing irreparable injury to the workings. The mechanism should not be wound too tightly, nor allowed to remain too loose. The key fitted properly, she then fused her open palm flush to the pliable stretched muscle in the vicinity of his fine, solid chest. She willed a measure of her special hearthealer magical energy into his casing as she carefully turned the key, feeling the tension tighten in the mechanism surrounding the keyhole. Beneath her touch his skin warmed, the heat radiating through him as he slowly revived like waking from a long sleep.

Ear to his chest, she listened, her finely attuned hearing vigilant to the least nuance of change in the rhythm. Almost immediately the steady hum and whiz of perfectly weighted clockwork met her hearing. A smile of relief curled her lips when she felt a large hand cup the back of her head, pressing her close.

“As always,” a deep, rumbling voice said, “your work is unparalleled, my beautiful hearthealer.”

Happy February, everyone!

adrianna-signature

 

A Contrast of Natures

I wrote a flash fiction prequel to this story titled “Wild Thing.” It can be found on my website at www.adriannadane.com, on the excerpt page for Captivity. One thing led to another. And eventually, “Captivity,” was born.

An excerpt from Captivity.

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Orion Birdwalker before his capture

Freedom. How did one describe it exactly? For Orion Birdwalker it had become an untouchable ache buried inside him, something he had once taken for granted and yearned for still. It was there, in a part of his soul—a wild thing, spirit caged—like his body.

Once a savage creature of the wild, without a name, without a home. Untamed, untutored. Uncivilized.

Beautiful women had gifted him with presents so that he would breed with them. He’d had no desire for civilization or its rules. His needs had been simple. He’d nested in the thick jungle that surrounded Bendar City, slept when he wanted, ate when he was hungry, and bred when he desired. Orphaned as a babe, he’d had no name—the ones who knew of his existence called him wild thing. There was no other on the planet exactly like him.

And that had been his downfall.

Lord Adolpho Serratin, high master of the Kalamadur Oasis compound located in the middle of the deadly black desert, was now Orion’s master, with the power of life and death over his slaves, his possessions. He also held the coveted position of Planet Mediator. He was a powerful man of untold wealth, with an army to secure his province. No one escaped Kalamadur—not without death as the consequence, in one way or the other. Either they were claimed by the black desert with its hidden traps and monsters, or excruciating death at the hands of Lord Serratin if they were tracked and recovered. One was simply slower and more painful than the other.

Through the year of Orion’s enslavement Serratin had not been as cruel a master as one of his power might otherwise enjoy. Orion had not been beaten within an inch of his life, nor did he bear scars of brutality on his body from his attempts to fight the shackling of his wings, and the piercings that came later.

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Lord Serratin

Orion looked down at his sleek, bronzed body decorated in a manner pleasing to his lord…the chain swaying from the nipple rings, the piercing of his cock head, now adorned by a jeweled stud that perfectly matched the brilliant color of his master’s eyes. Even the engraved silver allonium bands with the words “Property of Lord Serratin” locked around his forearms and calves had become so much a part of who he now was.

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Envisioning the Aviary in Captivity

Worldbuilding offers so many opportunities for the creative imagination to play and design and create. This is one of the things I really enjoy about writing fantasy, in particular. An emphasis first on the type of world that’s being created. The appearance, the climate, what type of architecture might be involved. And some of that architecture must play into the personalities of the characters. Consider: geographic locale, interior design, exterior environmental conditions. What type of climate will be involved? In “Captivity,” I used desert and oasis conditions, and a certain remoteness to the environment. This ties into Lord Saratin’s personality and his desire for tranquillity and quiet balance to his everyday life, because of the position he holds in the larger world.

One of the other pieces to this world, involving Orion, and an interior environment that befits a personality that involves flight, a hint of jungle, and in a sense the Aviary is a special place for Lord Saratin to tighten his bond with Orion.

Here’s a small snippet of story excerpted from the the chapter, “The Aviary,” in Captivity.

promo_aviaryOrion followed the master down a corridor, curious as to where he was being taken, when his master stopped at the door of the conservatory. When Lord Serratin drew a gold key from his pocket and opened the wrought iron doors, Orion’s eyes widened with surprise as he caught his first glimpse of the impressive room. It was almost as though the house had been built around a section of the oasis itself.

“I think you’ll like this place, Orion. It’s my sanctuary and I hope it will become yours as well.”

Slowly Orion stepped inside and gazed around him. He heard the click as Lord Serratin closed the door and locked it. Orion looked down at the ornate dark blue and cream mosaic floor and then his attention wandered upward once again. It almost felt like he was back in the jungle. A rush of remembered freedom wafted over him.

The aviary was truly a thing of beauty. It was filled with lush vegetation and looked to be more jungle than a room contained inside a dwelling. Exotic birds from the master’s collection, vivid in shades of reds and blues and greens flew among the greenery and flowering plants. There was even a small stone fountain with trickling water spraying into the air misting the room.

The wide room was designed as a marvelous domed conservatory with an extremely tall observation tower at the very core of the compound piercing the sky. It was completely constructed of glass, meshed screen, and black iron in swirling patterns, and rose like a tall phallic symbol, an offering reaching upward to the skygods. Every other panel of the curved walls was a scene made from intricately designed, colored stained glass. Orion looked toward the domed ceiling and saw that it was made of tinted glass, providing a spectacular view of the sky, yet shielding the room from the desert heat. Orion had never been inside anything quite like it, but then the birdman was not used to being inside rooms of any kind.

He was surprised when the master removed the chain netting over his wings and he was allowed to expand them. Immediately he spread his wings, took several running steps, and slowly lifted from the ground to land on a rocky ledge.

Ah, freedom!

He then lifted from the ledge and flew toward the ceiling. It felt good to be in the air once again. He landed on a perch and peered through the glass. The yellow, searing sun glared down from above. But what he wouldn’t give to feel the wild wind beneath his wings, sifting through his hair, feeling the chill on his face.

He circled the aviary several times, observed the other birds inhabiting the tower, each one different and unique. Just like him. He wondered sometimes if the master thought of him as more bird than man. There were moments when he didn’t know himself what he was. Except now, instead of simply existing, he was owned by a man who gave him purpose. He had a place in the world. What was freedom without a purpose?

“Come down, Orion.” The master called to him and Orion drifted down from the domed tower with some regret, to land before Lord Serratin.

“It’s time to teach you something new.”

Captivity, now available at Amazon.com.

Captive to the charisma of a powerful, sensual master – and slave to his own unquenchable desire. The winged man, once known simply as sthe wild thing, was free to roam the jungles outside Bendar City. Until he was betrayed, captured, and sold to a powerful lord who covets the birdman’s unique beauty for himself. Lord Adolpho Serratin of the Kalamadur Oasis maintains an unusual collection. Orion Birdwalker soon becomes the most precious of Serratin’s possessions, in more ways than one. The wild thing is soon named, tamed, and trained to serve his new master in all ways…

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