Ravished: Science Fiction and Fantasy Erotica
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Renaissance
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Copyright ©2004 by T. Bradley
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RAVISHED!
Science Fiction and Fantasy Erotica
By
TABITHA A. BRADLEY
A Renaissance E Books publication
ISBN 1-58873-446-1
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2004 by T. Bradley
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.
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publisher@renebooks.com
A SIZZLER/ROMANTICA EDITION
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CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
TURNABOUT IS FAIR PLAY
FUGUE
AVARAIR INTERLUDE
THE THIEVES
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
THE ADVENTURES OF TAMARA SABLE
THAT WHICH I DESIRE
RAVISHMENT
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DEDICATION
To my husband David, who helped me find Tamara.
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INTRODUCTION
I have always thought that once an author writes sex in detail, there is really very little left when it comes to creative inhibitions.
Not that it hasn't been difficult.
Hardly.
I consider writing effective erotica one of the most difficult things a writer can do. Though, it is also one of the most freeing literary exercises at the same time. Writing erotica can be a wonderful way to explore your fantasies and deepest desires, and I think writers need to know their own desires in order to write about others—in any genre.
Erotica has changed the way I write. The way I think about my characters. The way I define my world and the way I interact with others in it.
It's my advice to any writer who would like to explore the human condition, to at least try a little erotica. It was how I began. I certainly never expected to write it professionally.
This compilation is an anthology of twelve of my favorite stories and one written exclusively for this collection. And since I write science fiction and fantasy, that is what you will find here. That doesn't mean these stories are lacking at all in erotic content—they're stories written the way I think erotic SF and fantasy ought to be written—with intensity, passion and exquisite sexual tension, something I enjoy writing. The sexual content is hot and extremely erotic, exploring subjects like submission and dominance, seduction, bondage, pain, the use of force and psychological torture.
Several of these stories explore the idea of my heroine having an encounter with a hero who is more of a villain. I love to play with the dynamic of the villain getting the girl rather than the hero, and the almost naturally melodramatic genres of SF/F lend themselves very well to the idea.
The first story, Turnabout is Fair Play, is written in first person, as is the following, Fugue. These both feature Alena, who is a rarity in her rather misogynistic culture, a strong, independent woman leader. She finds herself faced with the infuriatingly enigmatic but very sexy Joshua Wetfire, who is singularly unimpressed by her position or her supreme arrogance, but he definitely seems to like fighting with her.
Avarair Interlude is a very loose fantasy novella. I realized that I hadn't really ever written fantasy erotica in the very traditional (elves and wizards) sense, so Avarair is the result of that experiment.
This little collection features Morgen, a pretty young thief who finds herself getting a lot more than she bargained for on one adventure into a ruined tower. It also features one of my newest favorite characters, the handsome and devilishly sensual Karayan Tibor. These were fun and about as traditionally fantasy as one can get short of dragons and dwarves. And it features my one and only group sex scene...
The Adventures of Tamara Sable feature four stories set in the Dirandan Chronicles universe. Tamara Sable was the first erotica character I created, a lusty young Dirandan smuggler who is my husband's definite favorite out of all my female characters with the possible exception of Aurora.
In Lost Cargo, Tamara finds herself having to explain to a client why she lost a shipment she'd been paid to deliver, and comes up with a uniquely “Tamara” solution.
The Lift finds Tamara in a dark, stalled elevator on Vendalli's, an intergalactic resort and casino, with a sexy fellow occupant. This story was actually my husband's idea, who began the first draft and asked me if I would finish it for him.
Tamara Goes Exploring in a mysterious underground chamber, in a “Tomb Raider” inspired idea of ‘what if'. She finds a rather interesting statue...
In Crash Landings, she crashes on a world she's definitely not supposed to be on, and we see what Karayan actually looks like when he's not using magic to disguise his appearance.
The last two stories of the collection are independent stories each featuring a unique set of characters.
That Which I Desire, the young Larune Irisa Latham finds herself facing her worst enemy, the pirate Renwyk Derian, who just happens to be entirely too sexy and dominating for her to resist. It is of course, Irisa who graces this book's cover.
And Ravishment is one of my very personal favorites. It is the only Aurora story in the collection, but is the result of several years of thinking about how this would occur. It is another of my Dirandan Chronicles and Latharna stories.
The young, sweetly sensual, Rubenesque housemaid, Aurora Katran, finds herself facing an impossibly powerful and very dangerous man who has been obsessed with her for years, a man she has secretly been longing for herself, though it takes this confrontation for her to realize the truth about it, Duke Gareth Janassi.
It might just be the most erotic story of the collection with a unique opening scene. It is also the result of another challenge from my husband, to write a story entirely from the male point of view. I had fun with this one.
This collection was much fun to put together and I certainly hope you enjoy reading it as much as I (and my dear hubby) did writing it.
I'd like to thank Jean Marie Stine for helping me put together this collection and believing in me as a writer.
Tabitha A. Bradley
June 1, 2004
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TURNABOUT IS FAIR PLAY
Thick clouds of smoke hovered around the low ceiling of the tavern as the evening wore on into night. Outside, equally thick clouds lowered, eventually dumping sleet-thick sheets of rain.
The bar was steamy, dirty and packed.
I sat in a darkened corner, in one of the few booths whose seat didn't have holes and dingy stuffing leaking out, sipping a glass of Cardei and smoking a thin black cigar. If I hadn't, I'd have stood out a little more than I cared to.
I was wearing a soft, worn violet leather flight jacket, a particular favorite of mine, which was good for any kind of adventure and unremarkable enough to keep my charade intact. This was over a black lace shell which I myself had crocheted from crystal-weave thread, twisted with thin, shiny amethyst filament. It only shimmered violet when the light caught it. I'd holstered my service pistol on my right hip and a plain
rapier on my left. My katana and wakasashi would have been more of a dead giveaway as to my identity than my emerald green eyes and wine-black hair (expertly glamoured to a more sedate grey-green and dark auburn) would have.
Even so, I'd still had a couple of offers from the spacer rabble, which was flattering on a rather base, primal level. I hadn't seen anyone I would have considered taking up—at least not yet.
As the evening thickened into a serious attempt at night, the sleet coming down colder and harder, delivery times, deadlines, drunkenness and lechery prevailed and most of the earlier crowd moved out to other destinations.
I toyed with my glass, nursing my third brandy. It was beginning to appear that this place was a washout, not only in interesting prospects but in information of any type. Perhaps Aquila was, indeed, too far out to be of any use to the Directorate, particularly the Duchy of Aventura, other than mining and cheap labor.
I reached into my pack for another cigar, lit it behind my hand with a quick spell and had just turned back to my indolent observance of the bar when I heard, “Slumming, Your Grace?"
I stiffened just a bit and took a carefully controlled drag off the cigar. I knew that smooth, drawling, lazily amused voice. Schooling my emotions into a facade of icy aplomb, I turned my head a fraction in his direction, not bothering to look at him. “I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."
Joshua Wetfire swung around me just then and dropped into the booth directly opposite me. He was smiling like a demon and, though his voice had been low, his steel grey eyes glittered with amusement. “You're like an onion, Alena. Layers upon layers.” He chuckled.
I frowned.
"Don't bother trying to keep up the pretense with me,” he said before I could reply. “You're a Crystal Master and at least an adequate sorcerer. You know I can see through your little sophistry.” With a negligent flicker of his long fingers, a glass swirled into existence in his hand.
I took a sip from my own glass and sent him a cool look. “Fine,” I said quietly. “You can, but no one else here can and I expect to keep it that way."
Joshua took a sip from his glass, his gaze sliding down to the ring on my right hand. “Oh really, Alena,” he chided in a soft voice uncannily like an Academy professor, “You expect to keep your identity secret, but you're wearing your Keystone?” He chuckled again. “And your colors?” Tsking softly, he shook his head.
I hate being mocked. Joshua knew that, which of course, was why he was doing it.
"No one notices, or cares, Wetfire,” I said evenly. “The only thing this rabble notices is if you're female or not. I doubt most of them even know for sure what I really look like."
Joshua sipped his wine. “Alright. I'll give you that.” He let his eyes slide over me again and I felt an annoyingly warm tingle that made me frown again. “Your choice of clothing is certainly ... interesting.” His eyes lingered on my breasts, which sent another warm flush through me. Luckily it didn't show on my face.
"Why are you here?” I snapped, taking a drag off my cigar, turning my head to look at the rest of the bar.
"Slumming,” he said simply. “Like you. Though I suspect you might have more than just an opportunity to mix with the peasantry on your mind. This bar is bad for political intrigue, Your Grace. These people are interested in having a drink and getting laid. That's about it."
I snorted and sipped the last of the brandy from my glass.
Joshua was silent for a few minutes. I looked up at him as I set my glass aside.
It was at that point I realized he was not dressed in his usual romantic, casually elegant, and understated expensive style. His flight jacket was well-worn black leather, over a tee shirt that was, in this lighting, nearly black, but I knew instinctively that it was a deep, vibrant royal blue. He sported a light golden dusting along his cheekbones and chin and his long blonde hair was pulled loosely back in a ponytail bound by what was most likely a strip of navy leather.
He raised his glass to sip thoughtfully at it, still quietly looking at me. Then, setting his glass down, he leaned back against the seat and stretched luxuriously, the leather of his jacket creaking softly.
I frowned again. The entire effect was so unlike anything I'd known of him before that it was disconcerting enough to make me slightly nervous. He reminded me of nothing so much as a lion and as he settled down again to look at me, I felt another twinge, this time much warmer than before.
"Perhaps you're not so much interested in overhearing intrigue...” Joshua said thoughtfully, gesturing absently and refilling my glass with a golden sheened red brandy that was the unique trademark of Dirandan Cardei, “As you are in ... hmm ... playing hooky perhaps?” He chuckled. “Or ... playing?"
I stopped myself from frowning yet again at his words and took a sip of the brandy now filling my glass.
His head tilted smoothly to one side. “What's wrong with your sophisticated, slick Dirandan nobles, Alena?” he drawled, “Are you bored? Or have you finally had enough of yes-men in your bed?"
I managed to not choke on the mouthful of Cardei, but just. Setting down the glass I said, “What business is it of yours anyway, Wetfire? It's not as if I cannot take care of myself."
He chuckled heartily then, and I was struck by it. I don't think I'd ever seen or heard Joshua this relaxed before. Perhaps he actually was drunk, although this seemed wildly unlikely. Joshua wasn't the type.
Joshua was grinning. “Somehow, I didn't think this—” he waved a hand at the bar in general, “-was your type."
I snorted softly and lifted my cigar to my lips. “This isn't my type,” I said with a sigh I couldn't conceal. “Not this evening anyway."
That, I noticed with a pleasing amount of satisfaction, caught him off guard. His eyes widened a little and his brows rose.
"Really?” he asked with a half-smile, his grey eyes glinting in the dim light as he glanced around. “Well, I will give you that as well. This crowd is not particularly palatable right now."
I set down the cigar. “I was considering leaving."
Joshua smiled fully then. “Ah. Where shall we go?"
I blinked at him. With a snort, I pulled my violet sapphire energy around me and vanished.
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I found the shadows of a different tavern on the east side of the ‘port city and blended into them with little more than a disturbance of the drifting smoke. I was chuckling softly to myself as I found a table in the back corner and slid into a chair, looking around the room to see if the prospects were any better.
Apparently so, as this particular bar had a stage and a cluster of men and other beings around it, watching a humanoid woman dancing, who was pretty enough even if she wasn't Dirandan. The men were good-looking in that rough, savage way I particularly liked and the women were also rather attractive.
I felt him before I heard him. And it wasn't a surprise to me at all. I'd expected him to track and follow me.
"Cute trick, Your Grace,” he drawled as he slid into a chair next to me. “I'd forgotten that translocation was one of your specialties."
I snorted, watching the dancer. I didn't need to see him. I could smell his spicy, leathery scent and feel his closeness, which was bad enough. It was warm and close in here and I felt another flush of heat rising as he bent close to my ear and whispered, “Nice choice."
"You should venture out from Vendalli's more often,” I said, my voice acid and deliberately taunting, “You'd see a lot more of what I can do without those annoying restrictions."
He laughed. “I'd like to see what you can do, true enough, Alena."
I continued to watch the girl on the stage remove her clothing, to the cheers of the watching men. The energy in this place was lusty enough to make my violet sapphires warm. I caught a distinctly spicy scent and knew that my Keystone was also absorbing it and passing it on to me. I felt warm breath on my ear and shivered.
"You smell rather nice, Alena,” he breathed. “You like it here."
The blonde was kissing the lucky spacer, whose hands were all over her naked body. I licked my dry lips unconsciously as Joshua whispered, “You owe me a kiss."
"Mmhm,” I murmured, blinking my eyes and watching with no surprise as the couple on the stage began to do what couples usually do when one is naked and both are horny. Cheers rang out from the barflies and I shifted in my chair. “I guess that's allowed here,” I muttered, feeling Joshua's hands on my arms, massaging them slowly. Usually I wouldn't have allowed him to touch me without my express permission, but that had never really mattered to him anyway. And it felt too good to get picky about things right now. He pulled me back, against him and I leaned against his chest.
"Now,” he breathed as the man on the stage got a friend up with him and the two of them fucked the pretty blonde between them while the others continued to applaud, “About that kiss..."
He turned my chin as he tilted his head toward me and lowered his lips to mine. I stiffened a little at the touch, a wave of nerves and protests rising in me, accompanied by a flood of fire that was disconcertingly uncomfortable as the sane part of my brain tried to remind me who it was I was kissing and at the same time extremely exciting. I turned into him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
He wasn't gentle. His lips were very warm, firm and strong and his kisses were equally so. His arms went around me and crushed me to him, a low growl coming from him as he plunged his tongue between my lips. I returned his kiss with an equal amount of aggression.
It was almost as though we were fighting rather than kissing. I growled back, dimly aware of the sounds of sex coming from the stage behind me.