Tag Archives: free excerpt

Pliant, Helpless, & Half Naked: Excerpt from Wicked Apprentice

10 May

Wicked Apprenticeby Madeline Iva

Time for a scrumptious bit of fantasy romance, my lady vaginas.

Here’s an excerpt from WICKED APPRENTICE, Book One in the Wicked Magic Series. 

Prin has captured a “uncanny creature” and brought him back to her mistress’s castle.  She did it under orders, not knowing what the sorceress Hulgetta planned to do with the gorgeous, tall stranger and his pointy ears.  Yet as she notices how his eyes change from black to green and back again, she starts experiencing strange feelings–feelings that begin to challenge her obsession with learning magic.  She suddenly wants to know more about her prisoner–she wants to know him intimately.

“They all called you Prin,” he said at last.

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to mention how they behaved. Thank you. She took a bigger breath.

“That’s… an odd name.” His Berbainwick was strangely accented, his words all stretched out instead of clipped off. He kind of gargled them sometimes at the back of the throat. To her ears the language had never sounded half so charming before.

“It’s a nickname,” she explained, and then stopped, not willing to explain more. Touchy ground here.

“What does it stand for?” he asked. His voice was lilting and gentle, another tone entirely from before. “Princess?”

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Prin replied. In fact, it was an abbreviation for ‘apprentice’ and a way of making fun of Hulgetta’s speech. She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course. Everything about him was gentle and refined. She kinda wanted to muss him up a little bit.

“I said nothing to them at all.” He looked puzzled.

She wrinkled her nose. “Never mind.”

“You are a princess then?” he said. He asked her a question in a language she didn’t understand. She looked down at her calloused fingertips and didn’t reply. Let him think what he liked. The silence stretched on. She looked up and his attractiveness hit her again like a physical blow.

His eyes had gone dark again, and he was a vision of sensitive torment. She felt herself involuntarily reaching towards him. Then, alas, the eyes changed back, and she regained a modicum of self-control. She stood up and paced around the cell, her heart still thudding about inside her chest.

“Who has imprisoned me?” he asked. “A murderous wizard? An evil enchantress?”

I did. “Technically speaking, she’s a sorceress,” Prin replied. “You don’t remember?”

He sniffed at the water in the tumbler.

“It’s not poisoned or tainted,” she said. “I freshened it with herbs myself. See?” She drank from the cup and then held it out to him to show him the sage leaves and borage blossoms. “Perfectly safe.” He took a tentative sip on his own, letting her hold the cup for him. The feel of his fingers sliding over hers. Her eyes widened, but he moved abruptly, pulling the cup away. As if he didn’t want to touch her.

“Thank you,” he said, not looking at her. Then he must have changed his mind about something. He looked up at her again, his eyes flickering black. “I thank you,” he said, this time with a tone of grave respect.

“You’re welcome,” she said, using the same formal tone. And did you know you’re smoking hot?

Lying there pliant, helpless, and half naked, he was so scrumptious her body itched to crawl on top of him. Moreover, all her fairy dust was up and screaming for him, and that just never happened to her with a guy. Ever.

She put the tumbler back on the wooden tray with the pitcher and stood there twisting her fingers up in her skirt. Nervous. Her mind strained for something to say. Her body looked for another excuse to bend over near him and reveal her cleavage. Get a grip, woman.

“And what are you called?” she asked, forbidding her fingers to play with her braids. The traitorous fingers took to the lacings on her corset instead, and she bit her lips a little to make them red. Where was her apprentice side? The scholarly side that wanted to learn? Pathetic.

“Princess, help me,” he whispered.

How was she ever going to refuse him anything when his eyes were all big and noble, yet softly luminous? She had felt loyal to Hulgetta. ‘Had’ being the operative word. Her loyalty was wobbling, big time. This was so wrong.

“Are you okay?” she said, filled with dread and concern. She leaned over the bed and put her hand on his brow again. Yes. It was warm now. She felt his cheek. It was hot. Spell all gone. Reluctantly, she took her hand away.

“Can you move your legs?”

He took her hand again and placed it back on his cheek, his lips parting a little. She went a little gooey and just stared at him, unable to think or move. He took that hand and kissed it.

“Help me escape.”

She stood up straight, breathless. Whoa. There it was. Bright needle-thin fear suddenly pierced the bubble.

“It would mean my life,” she said, simply.

You want more don’t you, reader? I don’t blame you — here’s a 100 page excerpt to entice you.

Also Wicked Apprentice is free right now on KU–so check it out!  🙂 

Strong And Sexy Week Starts At The White House

10 Sep

It’s Strong and Sexy Week at LadySmut where we’re celebrating all things hot and fierce — from Femme Dommes to alpha males. from what makes us feel virile and courageous to what does not. To start, here’s a free excerpt from Elizabeth SaFleur‘s latest, The White House Gets A Spanking where a Femme Domme finds herself in the most famous house in the world and, perhaps, discovers the alpha submissive male she’s dreamed of for six, long years.

EXCERPT

~~~~~

“Tell me Samson—I should call you that?” Stella placed her hand over his fingers that he drummed  on his leg.

“You can call me anything you want.”

“Samson then. What are you looking for?”

He blinked up at her. “Dominance.” He phrased it like a question as if she was either an idiot to ask such a thing or he wasn’t sure what that meant. She chose the latter.

“And what does this dominance look like? When you are in complete surrender in your mind, the thoughts you have late at night when you’re alone in bed playing with yourself . . .” she stilled his fingers once more. “Yes, Samson, when you are touching yourself, what is she doing?”

She didn’t need to ask him if he’d thought of her as he jacked off. She knew he did. He wouldn’t have come looking for her otherwise. And, his little gifts throughout the week were finally the right messages she’d sought.

“I haven’t. Touched myself.”

She cocked her head. “You’re telling the truth?”

“I always tell the truth.” His gaze shot to her.

“You forget I’ve been to your briefings.”

“I have never lied to the press.”

“Oh, the Assistant Press Secretary is ill? Or in bed with a certain someone?”

His nostrils flared. “Okay, I touched myself. But I didn’t—”

“You didn’t relieve yourself? Why not? Did Hannah forbid it until she got back?” If she had, that would have been another useful bit of information his former Domme should have shared.

His expression sank a little. “No, she didn’t forbid it.”

“But you wished to prove something to her anyway.”

“No.” He lifted his gaze to her, his eyes beseeching yet clear. “To you.”

Mixed emotion cascaded down her spine: pride, bewilderment, happiness and a little distrust. He still could be playing her. So many did in this town. But Hannah wouldn’t be with a player, despite the fact his job was in the biggest playpen. And, he had shown candor tonight. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but she wanted to know more.

“Why?”

He blinked. “You’re different.”

“How?”

He tossed her a small smile. “I didn’t take you for someone who required flattery.”

“Don’t you dare.” She smiled back at him. “Tell me what you’re looking for. Details, Samson.”

His head swiveled immediately upon her words to see who might be around. Three men were walking by them. He angled himself so he leaned into her more.

“You’re among friends, Samson.”

“I want someone to belong to.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“Belong,” she repeated, not because she didn’t understand, but because she did. The transience of their worlds—media, politics, Washington itself—wasn’t for someone who required constant reassurance. Comfort wasn’t on the menu. But if one’s nature was in direct contrast with who one had to be on the outside, well, having a place to be yourself could be very comforting indeed. Who didn’t long to be themselves, devoid of pretense, pseudonyms, false identities and the niceties everyone must adopt in D.C.?

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you. But, first, tell me more about this belonging.”

His eyes didn’t get that dreamy cast like so many other submissives when they paint their ideal fairytale. His eyes grew fierce.

“You would tell me what to do, of course. We are equals but you understand my need to serve you. You’d love . . . having me. It would be a shared experience.”

His unwavering clarity made her sit back against the couch cushions.

“I know watching is not the same as doing,” he said. “But what I’ve seen, well, I can tell the difference between people who are playing and people who are together and playing.”

The man used words for a living, so she shouldn’t be so surprised at his articulation. But the fact he expressed himself exactly as she would have? His answer rendered her nearly speechless.

It didn’t matter if Hannah had told her to watch over him. She wouldn’t turn her back on this man for anything. He wasn’t just rare. He was perhaps once in a lifetime.

“Is that what you want, to be part of a 24/7 couple?” she asked.

“Eventually. But first I have to know what it’s like. To be sure.”

“That’s wise. There is a vast difference between the fantasy and the reality of what we do.”

“I learned that quickly.” His eyes lit up. “It was better.”

Controlling the squirm that rose inside her, she leveled her voice. She was investigating, not seducing. “So you’re hungry for more?”

He nodded and clenched and unclenched his fists. He had something inside seeking release. She took his hand and he seemed to relax.

“You enjoy being handled.” The words just tumbled from her lips.

“Very much so.”

Every fiber of her being wanted to handle him. Her mind spun with all the possibilities about the apparatus she could connect him to while strapping open his ass cheeks and plugging him, playing with his cock, and making those delectable lips do all kinds of things to her. . . . She told her imagination to take five. There was more investigation to do. Her lady parts complained bitterly.

Stella took a long breath and squared her shoulders toward him. “I wish to see you again. Do you wish to see me again?”

“Yes, but . . .” He leaned forward. “. . . we’re here now.”

She smiled. She could so easily tell him to drop to his knees, crawl with her as she scoped out a quiet corner for them, test him out a little. Perhaps a short spanking scene or binding him with his own clothes and asking him to service her.

She loved to delay sating a man’s lust until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then let him unleash on her, give her pleasure while taking his own. She once thought she’d found such a man. But, no, her last submissive lover had to end things because his wife had found out—a spouse tucked away in Northern Virginia that she didn’t know he had. This time she would be wiser.

“Tonight, we just talk,” she said.

“Hannah has already told me it’s fine, but if you wish to speak to her—” He stopped abruptly likely due to her face coloring. He’d spoken to Hannah, and Hannah hadn’t bothered to call her back? Then again, Samson was under her charge at least some of the time. She would feel obligated to return his call.

“I’m glad she called you.” Sort of. “And, you asked her about me?” She parted her legs a bit more and let one thigh rest against his. Man, he had muscles.

“I said that we saw each other at work, and you were generous in offering to accompany me here.”

Generous? Hardly. Want for the man would make fulfilling Hannah’s request the easiest thing she’d done in years.

She stood and held out her hand. “Let’s take a little walk.”

~~~~~

Pre-Order The White House Gets a Spanking at the discount — $0.99. Releases September 15.

Blurb: Stella Martin, reporter, single, Femme Domme meets the submissive of her dreams in Laird Harkness. Only problem, he’s the assignment she loathes to take. As the White House Communications Director, Laird’s secret desires could end his career. Stella calms his fears, as she sates his craving to submit, serve and belong to someone, but the balance of work and play is a hard line to walk.

Enter Elizabeth’s Rafflecopter giveaway in honor of this new release.

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Elizabeth SaFleur is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. Many of her books were inspired from her thirty years as a PR practitioner in and around Washington, DC — where she learned not all power in D.C. is wielded by politicians. She writes, tweets and posts under a pseudonym since her business clients might be (WOULD be) shocked at her new career choice. When not writing, she’s dancing or drinking good wine. Life’s too short for bad wine. And, if her house were to catch fire, she’d grab 3 things: her furry baby, a Westie; her laptop; and her Sally Rand, 5-feet wide, ostrich feather burlesque fans — in that order. (Words of wisdom she shares with everyone: it’s never too late to learn to dance with fans and boas.)

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