Today we go WAY WAY BACK in time to 1998 and the VERY FIRST EROTIC STORY I had published: Party Piece, which is set on a posh galleon during a prince's birthday celebration, and is perhaps surprisingly (for me) femdom, with an older military woman and the younger, callow nobleman who catches her eye.
"If my presence makes you feel tense then I must make amends. Drink this, for a start." She handed him the small glass and he reached for it, not because he desired the liqueur but because he longed to touch those velvet-clad fingers once more. But as their hands met the glass slipped; he grabbed for it and stopped it falling to the deck, but could not prevent the contents slopping out upon her bare thigh.
"That's cold," Allisandra said.
Leander bit his lip and stared down at the wet splash staining her leg. He felt light-headed; his limbs seemed to throb and buzz as if they were ready to explode. This felt worse than the moment before the cavalry charge at Moriens. There was only one cure, and that was action.
"Duchess," he said formally, "allow me." Without hesitation he slid to his knees on the deck and pressed his lips to her thigh. He heard the soft intake of her breath over the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. Her flesh was satin-smooth and incredibly warm and he could smell her secret musky perfume. He kissed the sticky moisture from her skin, gentle as the breath of spring, using his tongue to lap up the bitter spirit. He moved without haste, and it seemed as dreamlike and terrible to him as that first charge into battle.
When every last trickle of the pungent liquid had been erased, he rose before her again, his colour high, his jaw set. She gazed up at him; her eyes were bright and her lips softly parted.
"How gallant," she purred.
He found that he was still holding the useless glass. He tossed it over her shoulder into the sea.
"My pleasure, Duchess," he said, almost with a groan. His scrotum was as tight as a clenched fist and his stones felt as if they were burning.
Her laughter was like the jingle of spurs. "And so charming! You are wasted amongst rough soldiers, Leander. Did you come here with a companion? No? I think I ought to find you a paramour tonight. It should not be difficult, with so many fine ladies here to choose from. It is such a beautiful night ... and you are so very handsome."
"Allisandra," he grunted. His member had risen up and was rearing from between his legs like a war-stallion, straining its long neck against the curb.
"Yes." She began to play with one of the silver buttons on his open jacket, the one directly over his left nipple. Leander shut his eyes for a moment. "You are a very handsome, lovely boy."
His hand snapped shut around her wrist. "Don't mock me, madame," he said, eyes narrowed. "I am no boy, for you to tease; I am a man."
"Prove that," she whispered, her lips describing brush-strokes of provocation.
He no longer cared for decorum. He took her captive hand and laid it over the hard mound of his erection, and it leapt beneath her touch, stamping and bucking with an impatience that threatened to damage the fine doeskin of his breeches. Her eyelashes fluttered and her palm and fingers moved to clasp his bellicose flesh.
"Oh," she breathed. "Now you are teasing me, my Leander. Such a great promise cannot be made, if it is not to be fulfilled."
"I would fulfill it this instant, Madame," he growled, bending to her neck. He took her earlobe between his teeth and she shuddered with pleasure; the response nearly drove him to insanity.
"Is there a cabin nearby?" she asked, her voice low.
He could not think properly. "The forecastle... There is to be some entertainment there later," he grunted, stretching his memory. "There are seats, and mummers' props laid out. But it was empty. Come now."
He led her back up the length of the deck, and she clung to his arm as if she could not bear to release him from her embrace. They reached the small deck before the forecastle cabin and found it as he had half-remembered: set out with cushions and padded benches and musicians instruments, but empty of people. In front of the steps to the cabin was a tall screen, contrived so that players would be able to exit from the makeshift stage without being watched. He pulled her behind this and towards the stairs, but she slipped from his grasp and, when he turned, laughed and set her back to the mast there.
"No further, my gallant, " she said, holding out her arms to him. "I would have you keep your promise right now."
"Here? Leander was surprised. They were concealed behind the screen, but it was the flimsiest of shields, and there was no surface on which to lie.
"Here," she commanded.
He grinned suddenly and went to her, pulling her into his arms. They kissed for the first time. Her tongue was savage and she bit his lips, but he pinned her by the throat and returned stroke for stroke. He could feel the blood racing through her jugular. They grew gentle then, exploring each other's hot mouths with all the murderous delicacy of jungle cats. She smelt of vanilla. He ran his fingers through her lustrous hair and chased the outline of her cleavage with his tongue.
"Take off your harness," she hissed, digging her nails into the nape of his neck. He obeyed her, tearing off his brocade jacket and dropping it to the floor.She forced her hands up under his white shirt and he discarded that too.
"Beautiful," she moaned, drawing her velvet palms across the smooth wall of his chest. "Oh, you are beautiful." She nuzzled the flat brown discs of his nipples and seduced them into erection with tongue and teeth. Leander had to brace one hand against the mast to keep his balance. Then she slid to her knees before him and rubbed her face against the soft leather that covered his tumescent crotch, and he thought he would faint with anticipation.
"Yes," she murmured, more to his imprisoned member than to him. "Oh yes; right now, my lovely one. Let's see you now." She unclasped his belt and pulled it open, then eased the tight breeches down over his narrow hips and tight, muscular arse. His shaft, released from all constraint, sprang into the light. Allisandra hissed with pleasure and caught it in one hand, drawing back the tender foreskin. Her grip was firm. The smooth helmet danced in her black velvet-gloved palm, thrusting out between her finders and thumb as she slid her hand up and down.
"Oh, you must have lied to me, Leander," she chided. "You are no duke's son; you have the parts of a cart-horse colt! I've never seen a noble youth endowed like this!" So saying, she gripped the fingertips of her left glove between her teeth and tore the garment off, allowing her to cup his balls with her bare hand.
Leander groaned, his head spinning. He could she her carnelian-painted nails; the twin hands, one black and one white, vying for his swollen genitals; her tongue slipping out to lap at the shiny head of his lance. Tension was building in the puckered bag of his stones. From his toes to the tip of his cock was one line of rigid muscle, strained to breaking point.
"I'm about to let slip," he warned her through clenched teeth.
"Oh? You told me you were a man, not a boy," she said cruelly, and probed the slit of his knob with her darting tongue-tip. "Can't you hold it?"
You can still buy Sugar and Spice Vol.2 at:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
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