Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Since I am about to go back into Arabian Nights mode and get my old novel Heart of Flame prepped for re-publishing ... here's a djinni-related excerpt from a short story of mine, Slave of the Lamp:

She summons me forth once more. This time I am indoors, and cannot grow to my full height. I rein myself in before I smash through the carved cedar beams of the roof.

There is a squealing and a shrieking, a flurry of panic at my arrival. I look down and see the room is full of women. It makes me grin to see them shrink away and cover their faces - though several are peeking through the slits of their fingers, and that makes me grin too. I have arrived clothed, because Bilqis commands me thus, but my silken trousers do not fully disguise the extent of my exuberance. They are all young and lovely; their breasts bare and firm, their shapely thighs and rounded bottoms a field of delight that my rampant share urges me to plough. In Solomon's palace, I would assume that this is the apartment of his concubines. Here in Sheba, they must be the queen's handmaidens. It is clear they have not been expecting the arrival of any male, and their consternation is enchanting. I wish to rush in among them like a cockerel among a flock of hens.

'Djinni!'

I force my attention back to Bilqis, who kneels upon cushions in the middle of this fluttering crowd, with a slender maiden cradled in her arms. 'Mistress?'

She's dressed less formally today. I can see her ebony nipples through the damp and clinging gauze of her robe. I understand that the land of Sheba is considered punishingly hot by humans. 'Djinni,' says she, 'my slave here has been bitten by a viper. Can you heal her?'

The girl in her arms is twisting with pain, her dark skin grey now and glistening with sweat. I can see her injured foot, swollen to twice its natural size, propped upon a cushion.

'Pray to the God of Solomon, mistress,' I suggest sourly. 'Does He not promise to be merciful?'

'I have. And to Shams and Ilmaqah and Athtar, who rule this land. The gods do not answer me. So if it lies within your power, djinni, I command you to heal this maid.'

I briefly consider some way to twist her words, but my heart is not in it. I am too distracted by the perfumed, quivering throng of women. And the girl is pretty, for a human, or will be so when well. I twitch a single finger - mostly to show how easy this is for me - and the poison hisses out of her, issuing as faint green cloud from her open lips. Her leg reverts instantly to healthy flesh.

Everyone in the room utters a wahwahwah of wonder. Except Bilqis, who smiles and nods, and the girl, who sobs and buries her face in her queen's breasts.

'There, there,' says the monarch of all Sheba, both left and right of the Red Sea. 'You are fine. Not need to cry, my sweet one.' And my eyes widen as the maid pulls down the fine gauze of the queen's robe and sucks a big nipple into her mouth.

Bilqis closes her own eyes for a moment in pleasure, then opens them, meeting my gaze with a long, considering look. 'You did well, djinni,' she says. 'It pleases me to reward you.' With a couple of clicks of her fingers she jerks two of the women at the side of the chamber from their knees. 'You two: see to his pleasure.'

I'm taken aback, but far from dismayed. The young women are curvaceous of body and beautiful of face, and they advance toward me with rapidly rising and falling breasts, bright-eyed but gratifyingly nervous.

'It would help, djinni,' says the queen in a dry voice, 'if you were to assume the size of a mortal man.'

I comply, shrinking my towering form down from the ceiling, until I am only the size of a very large man. The two handmaidens kneel before me on the cushioned floor, and reach for my hidden weapon, wetting their lips as they tug at my clothes. They are eager to obey their queen, I note, approving.

'Do not hurt them, djinni,' Bilqis adds as an afterthought.

I bare my sharp teeth in a grin at her. But I clasp my wrists at the small of my back, safely out of the way.

Then the handmaids lay hold of their prize; one cupping my big balls, the other stroking my thick shaft. Both of them vie for the right to suck my glans, and most stimulating it is to watch them fight for the honour; their lips wrestling over the crown of my manhood, their tongues lashing and sliding over the veined pillar of my magnificence. Teasing fingers stroke my balls and the skin behind. I let out a groan of appreciation. These two are not ignorant of the bodies of men, clearly.

And it is so long since I have known carnal pleasure. Years now, trapped in that lamp. My sap rises swiftly. I look up from the two bobbing heads at my crotch, just to distance myself and prolong the delight, but the broader view does not provide distraction. Every woman in that room is watching me, looking at my body and my cock and their two sisters sucking and slurping at it. Their eyes are wide, drinking in the sight. Their full, moist lips are parted. Their soft breasts heave with each breath they take. Some look entranced; some wary; some hungry. Even the queen herself wears a faint smile, though the maid she is suckling at her breasts is kissing with such vigour that Bilqis' expression appears somewhat unfocused.

My bow is at full stretch, straining for release. I can feel my balls tighten, their hot wet burden ready to be spilled. My thighs are so taut they tremble. I look down once more and see my two handmaidens are taking it in turn to run their tongues up the length of my cock, swallow the head, suck it lovingly, and then let it go just in time for the other girl to engulf.

'Yes, oh yes,' I growl, fire swimming in my veins. 'That is right, you Whores of the Earth! This is your place, all of you!'

'Stop,' says Bilqis sharply.

In an instant the two girls draw away, leaving my cock standing bereft and waving wetly. My vision swims. I can feel the flame burning in my blood turn to pain. I can feel my balls clenching. I turn to the queen, with a snarl.

'I give, and I take away,' Bilqis says, brushing the girl from her as she stands. The queen has a wrathful glitter in her eye. 'Get back into your Lamp, djinni.'

I have no choice but to obey.

---

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Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

After two weeks in Ethiopia I had no choice but to offer you this snippet from my story Slave of the Lamp, which appears in the Underworlds anthology, because it's all about the Queen of Sheba. That queen is HUGE in Ethiopia - she's counted as the founder of their imperial line and the mother of the country. The protagonist in this story is a very sulky djinni who magically bound to her will...

The next time Bilqis calls me from my prison, the hand of night lies upon the Earth. I stand in a chamber I have never seen before, which contains a great bed. There are only three women in the room. Two are entirely naked, and they may not have noticed my entrance at all, because the first is lying back upon the coverlet and the other has her face buried in the girl's sex and is lapping away – to some effect, judging from the hitch and twitch of those hips and the way the reclining maid is panting as she plays with her own breasts.

    'Djinni,' says the third, the queen herself; 'I have something to show you. Stand and watch. Do not move until I tell you.'

    It is not an entirely disagreeable command, for once. Bilqis is clad only in a collar of bright feathers and a belt of lapis lazuli beads. They glow against the dark shimmer of her skin, drawing attention to its velvet softness, to the curve of her waist and the swell of her heavy breasts. But there is no vulnerability in her near-nakedness; she holds herself regally, as if in coronation robes.
 
    She rises and places the Lamp safely aside upon a shelf, and then from under a cushion on the bed – she reaches around the two labouring handmaids, stroking both idly with her fingertips – she fetches an apparatus that I do not, at first, comprehend. It consists of two phalluses, shaped from stitched and stiffened leather, joined at a peculiar angle. There are many soft straps too, and Bilqis fastens these about her hips and thighs, sliding the more curved of the two false members deep inside her. When she tightens the harness and straightens, the second cock stands out from her pubic mound – for all the world like a true erection, if a woman could sport such a thing. It looks obscene. She strokes it lovingly, dipping her fingers into a bowl of perfumed oil to lavish her slippery caress upon the thick shaft. She pumps it with her fist as if it might ejaculate.

    I do not know whether to be amused or affronted. She is a mockery of all that is a man – and yet my own cock twitches; I find this sight strangely arousing. More so when, ignoring me, she kneels up upon the bed and touches the supine handmaid upon the peak of her breast.

    The girl opens her eyes, gazing up at her queen with a look of naked adoration. First she stretches up to kiss the slippery shaft, then she rolls over onto her front, drawing her knees beneath her to raise her ass. Presented like that, it appears as an exquisite heart-shape. The girl who has been doing the licking slides her hands into those of the kneeling girl and grips her tight, as a comrade offering comfort.

    Oh, how I ache.

    The queen ... the queen is kneeling up behind that luscious rear, her hands on those hips. The phallus is angled right at the maiden's well-licked sex. That cleft must be puffy and wet and open by now; it certainly seems to offer no resistance as the blunt helmet noses into it and the shaft follows, disappearing inch by inch into the hot depths. The queen works her hips with consummate care, biting her lip as she surges and then slacks. Her eyes are half-hooded, her sapphire-painted lids fluttering with each push of her thighs, each heave of her glorious breasts. The handmaiden below whimpers and gasps, twisting her own hips as she makes room for the obdurate prod invading her innermost parts. I struggle to understand what is happening – surely the queen can feel nothing through that false manhood?

    Then I realise that each thrust must press upon the sensitive nub of her sex, and grind the second phallus into her own passage. It seems to be sufficient to bring her satisfaction. There is a glow rising in the queen's cheeks as she labours, and a trembling jerkiness to her movements, just as the girl's groans are becoming deeper and wilder. Bilqis' breasts shudder, and the wobbling dance of those delectable orbs with their staring nipples is almost enough to distract me from the unnatural fucking going on beneath. Almost, but not quite. The undulation of all that feminine flesh quivering and slapping together is making the hot blood throb in my cock.

    I would show them how it is done, if I were free.

    Then Bilqis begins to gasp, her hands biting into the girl's flesh, her thrusts suddenly commendably savage. The girl wails – though not, I think, in protest; she is pressing back upon her queen's weapon – and in a flurry of shudders and two mingles cries of release it is over.
    
    A smile upon her flushed face, Bilqis detaches the thigh-straps of the harness and steps down from the bed, leaving the phallic apparatus still buried in the slave-girl's pretty rear. 'Was that instructive, djinni?'

    'Most enlightening, mistress.' How I burn to use the harlot, just as she used the maid.

     With a slap upon that bottom, she commands, 'Leave now,' and I watch as the two girls rise obediently and slip out of the room. Then she comes over to me. Her eyes are full of unassuaged lasciviousness. Oftentimes, my brother djinn have taken mortal women as concubines. Their own men, it is said, are unable to satisfy their great appetites, which is why they cannot remain faithful to their lawful husbands. Bilqis, I think, is one of those women.

    She puts her hand upon the bar of my engorged member. With a grin I make myself naked once more, so that there is nothing between her skin and mine. She glances down, admiring, as she strokes my shaft, and my chest swells with triumph as my cock-slit weeps with joy
.
    'Djinni,' says she, 'I want a cock.'

    I am taken aback. I laugh to cover my dismay. 'Would you be a man, then?' I mock her. 'Is it not enough to be queen, that you must be king?'

    She steps back, eyeing my frustration with undisguised amusement. 'Why would I want to be a man?' she asks, running her hands over her own body, caressing the rich curves of hip and waist, hefting and cupping and squeezing her breasts until my eyes feel like they will burst from my head. 'A man spends his pleasure once, and then is done. I may take mine over and over, with every woman in my harem. But...' She licks her lips. 'I want to be able to feel it when I enter my favourite's tight hole. I want to be a woman, yet with a cock of flesh. I want one like yours.'

    I don't know what to say. It appals me, and it excites me in ways I cannot describe.

    'I command it, djinni,' she says, looking in my eyes.

    So I give her a cock. And as an afterthought, a pouch of balls, because I think it looks better that way, and that they will suit her. She steps back with a gasp, touching herself, her fingers like fluttering butterflies. Her member is already half-hard; it becomes harder as she grasps and strokes it, harder in great surges. She casts me a look of disbelief, which I do not understand because this is what she asked for. Then she checks between her legs to make sure I have not robbed her of her woman's parts.

    'You have both, mistress,' I say through gritted teeth. 'As you desired. Though you will not sow any seed with that thing.'

    'Then it is for pleasure only,' she says, and there is a fire in her eyes when she looks upon me that seems to belong to the Flameborn, not the Children of Dust. 'Lie upon the bed, djinni.'

    'Me?' I stutter. Outrage flares through my soul.

    'You, djinni.' She smirks. 'I command it.'

    'No!' I bark, but I must go, and I am already going. I am her slave, no less than the women of her bedchamber. And to much the same end, it appears. She requires me to lie back upon the cushions, and she goes to dip both of her hands in the bowl of oil. I look up at her, at the luscious womanly curves I desire so much – and at the monster, standing erect from the juncture of her thighs, that she is slicking with one lazy hand. I cannot help wishing I had made it a little smaller.

---

Buy at Amazon US : Amazon UK kindle (and paperback)

Excerpt: Slave of the Lamp

E-anthology Underworlds: tales of paranormal lust is now out from Mischief Books. It's only £0.99! Here's the author lineup:

Heavenly Shades - Charlotte Stein
Slave of the Lamp - Janine Ashbless
Katie - Angela Caperton
Sleepwalker's Secret - Rose de Fer
They Come at Night - Elizabeth Coldwell
Period Drama - Lara Lancey
The Ursa Legacy - Anne Tourney
Riding the Ghost Train - Chrissie Bentley
Fancy a F**k? - Lisette Ashton
The Hunt - Penelope Hildern

My story, Slave of the Lamp, is all about werewolves.
No, I'm shitting you ... it's about a genie, of course! - he's prisoner/slave of the Queen of Sheba and he's NOT AT ALL HAPPY ABOUT THAT. Especially when Queen Bilqis comes up with a shocking use for his magical powers. There's gender-bending, pervy sex, and extremely dubious consent in this tale ...

And here's an excerpt:

---

She summons me forth once more. This time I am indoors, and cannot grow to my full height. I rein myself in before I smash through the carved cedar beams of the roof.

There is a squealing and a shrieking, a flurry of panic at my arrival. I look down and see the room is full of women. It makes me grin to see them shrink away and cover their faces - though several are peeking through the slits of their fingers, and that makes me grin too. I have arrived clothed, because Bilqis commands me thus, but my silken trousers do not fully disguise the extent of my exuberance. They are all young and lovely; their breasts bare and firm, their shapely thighs and rounded bottoms a field of delight that my rampant share urges me to plough. In Solomon's palace, I would assume that this is the apartment of his concubines. Here in Sheba, they must be the queen's handmaidens. It is clear they have not been expecting the arrival of any male, and their consternation is enchanting. I wish to rush in among them like a cockerel among a flock of hens.

'Djinni!'

I force my attention back to Bilqis, who kneels upon cushions in the middle of this fluttering crowd, with a slender maiden cradled in her arms. 'Mistress?'

She's dressed less formally today. I can see her ebony nipples through the damp and clinging gauze of her robe. I understand that the land of Sheba is considered punishingly hot by humans. 'Djinni,' says she, 'my slave here has been bitten by a viper. Can you heal her?'

The girl in her arms is twisting with pain, her dark skin grey now and glistening with sweat. I can see her injured foot, swollen to twice its natural size, propped upon a cushion.

'Pray to the God of Solomon, mistress,' I suggest sourly. 'Does He not promise to be merciful?'

'I have. And to Shams and Ilmaqah and Athtar, who rule this land. The gods do not answer me. So if it lies within your power, djinni, I command you to heal this maid.'

I briefly consider some way to twist her words, but my heart is not in it. I am too distracted by the perfumed, quivering throng of women. And the girl is pretty, for a human, or will be so when well. I twitch a single finger - mostly to show how easy this is for me - and the poison hisses out of her, issuing as faint green cloud from her open lips. Her leg reverts instantly to healthy flesh.

Everyone in the room utters a wahwahwah of wonder. Except Bilqis, who smiles and nods, and the girl, who sobs and buries her face in her queen's breasts.

'There, there,' says the monarch of all Sheba, both left and right of the Red Sea. 'You are fine. Not need to cry, my sweet one.' And my eyes widen as the maid pulls down the fine gauze of the queen's robe and sucks a big nipple into her mouth.

Bilqis closes her own eyes for a moment in pleasure, then opens them, meeting my gaze with a long, considering look. 'You did well, djinni,' she says. 'It pleases me to reward you.' With a couple of clicks of her fingers she jerks two of the women at the side of the chamber from their knees. 'You two: see to his pleasure.'

I'm taken aback, but far from dismayed. The young women are curvaceous of body and beautiful of face, and they advance toward me with rapidly rising and falling breasts, bright-eyed but gratifyingly nervous.

'It would help, djinni,' says the queen in a dry voice, 'if you were to assume the size of a mortal man.'

I comply, shrinking my towering form down from the ceiling, until I am only the size of a very large man. The two handmaidens kneel before me on the cushioned floor, and reach for my hidden weapon, wetting their lips as they tug at my clothes. They are eager to obey their queen, I note, approving.

'Do not hurt them, djinni,' Bilqis adds as an afterthought.

I bare my sharp teeth in a grin at her.

---

Buy at Mischief Books (multiple formats) : Amazon UK : Amazon US (kindle format)

Remember, you don't need a Kindle to download kindle-format books.

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P.S: You'd be amazed at the amount of research that went into this short story. I even had to look up the distribution of snakes in the Middle East for that one line about the viper-bite!

Short stories making Mischief

Look look! I've got two more short stories signed up for forthcoming Mischief anthologies:

Amuse-Bouche appears in The Visitor: vampire erotica. It's a M/f/F tie-in to Red Grow the Roses, and features two of my more sympathetic characters being ... unsympathetic. The story I longed to write, but couldn't include in RGtR.

The Visitor: vampire erotica is out REAL SOON NOW - 17th  May, I believe.

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AND my story Slave of the Lamp is to appear in Underworlds: paranormal erotica (no cover pic yet). Guess what that one's about, eh? Slave of the Lamp is actually malesub (very very reluctant malesub) and NOT a tie-in to any of my novels, though it may have similar sources of inspiration to a certain Arabian Nights adventure. Oh, and it's my first pegging story!

Underworlds: paranormal erotica is due out in July

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By the way, many Mischief books are still being held at half price, including Red Grow the Roses, so it's a great time to buy:

Mischief on Amazon UK  (I can do a search by publisher there. Can't work it out on Amazon US) or direct