Short Story/Free Read
Genre: Erotic Horror/Fantasy
Cover by Valerie Tibbs
Available in all formats at Smashwords
Sometimes, you don’t need romance…
Sir Brynn of Lochland has a serious problem. He’s been captured by an evil vampire queen who wants to use him as her newest blood slave. But Brynn doesn’t have a submissive bone in his body, and he intends to fight her every step of the way.
Can Brynn’s willpower remain intact when pitted against Sorla’s superior vampire strength, seductive skills, and underhanded cruelty, or will she ultimately take possession of both his mind…and body?
* * * CONTENT WARNING: This is a VERY graphic erotic horror/fantasy novella. Expect blood, sex, some M/M content, and bad, bad words.
“I’m sure it’s good, but no way am I going to read it.” — Larissa’s mom
“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever read.” — New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Tyler
Slave auctions were always held at night. Some said the reason was to make the naked merchandise more attractive, but most knew the truth. Queen Sorla attended the auctions, and because she was a vampire, the sales must be held after sundown.
Sorla passed an extra critical eye over the specimens chained to the raised wooden platform. Licking her lips, she paused before a particularly large man, a dark-haired knight taken prisoner during a battle with a neighboring kingdom. His emotionless gaze raked her and then dismissed her with an arrogance that would have been infuriating had it not been so refreshing.
Everyone – bidders, her subjects, and the merchandise – went silent as she dragged one long nail from his iron-shackled ankle to his thick thigh. Warm blood surged under her fingertip, and his muscles quivered in its wake. When she touched the velvet softness of his flaccid member, he drew a sharp breath and held it until she thought he might burst.
Keeping an eye on his sun-bronzed face, she cupped his balls, weighing them in her palm. Heavy and firm, they were perfect. She slid her fingers up to measure his cock and judge its strength. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he fought the sensations, but it was a losing battle. In her hand, he grew huge and hard, and Sorla’s own sex began to throb with wanting.
“Show me your tongue,” she demanded.
His black eyes impaled her with defiance, and he snarled, baring his teeth but not his tongue.
Increasing the speed of the strokes on his cock, she smirked. “Let me see your tongue, or I’ll not stop this torment.”
Instantly, his tongue slipped between his well-shaped lips, and she felt a surge of moisture between her legs. His tongue was made to lap a woman’s juices, and she intended to see that he tasted hers frequently. Yes, he would make a perfect, if challenging, sex slave.
She dropped her hand to his thigh and flicked her fingernail against his skin. He didn’t flinch as blood welled at the thin cut, but he tensed when she leaned forward and licked the warm, salty liquid into her mouth. He tasted as good as he looked.
“This one,” she said to her assistant. “Pay anything, and deliver him to my chamber.” She began to stalk away and then halted. “And purchase another . . . I don’t care which. I’m hungry.”