So… I’m back, it was great and even while I was away I managed to do some work. Well… by work I mean answering/reading the emails linked to this name.
Anyway, so while I’m in the midst of playing all these wonderful games I find an email from Mitzi Szereto. Remember, I talked about her call for submissions for the erotic Thrones of Desire anthology? Well it was a response to my submission!
Unfortunately I can’t say that my story was selected to be included in the anthology, or that I received any feedback for the piece. Its not quite what she’s looking for, according to the email, which is better than being told its terrible and should never have been submitted. Lol.
This does mean, however, that I’m free (though I may well have been before) to put an excerpt here for your reading pleasure! The whole story is 5,669 words, but I’m not going to put the whole thing here. I’ll post an excerpt in this post and then a slightly longer one in the Excerpt section of the site for you.
So… for now, enjoy a piece of ‘Owned.’
Rawen watched Trillian vanish and slowly arched one eyebrow. By the time he looked back to the pair of thrones, the Princess had already leapt down from the platform, moving with the delicate grace of a forest deer. Her silken skirts swirled around her hips, hinting at the body beneath which, like most women of Montsho, was no doubt powerful, though deceptively slender.
Princess Glacya stopped before Rawen and tucked her fingers beneath his chin. He lifted his head for her, careful to set his gaze on her left ear even while she stared deeply into his face.
“Open.” She snapped.
Rawen dropped his jaw and felt a wave of bitter disgust as the Princess jabbed her fingers into his mouth, flicking and tugging at his teeth. His lips tingled as he fought the urge to snap his jaws together. He loosened his neck and allowed her to turn his head from side to side, even lifting his arms in response to a shove at his elbow.
Glacya stalked around him, muttering to herself as she stroked his shoulder, his bicep, his left pectoral. Slender fingers whispered over his skin, hot digits a stark contrast to the chill he felt right down to his marrow.
When the Princess touched her hands against the thin, leather cloth slung low on his hips, Rawen gritted his teeth. He closed his eyes as heat flushed his cheeks and silently begged she would not continue.
With a loud giggle, Glacya tugged at the cords on the cloth, loosening the knot and yanking it away.
Rawen swallowed a gasp, forced his eyes open and arranged his face into an expression of polite interest.
“Very nice.” Princess Glacya continued her invasive search, pressing herself into his front and reaching around with both hands to grip the muscled contours of his backside. “He’s strong, Mother!” She cooed. “A real stallion!”
Eager hands stroked round his body, caressing his hips before finding the space where his legs joined.
A moan, quickly cut off, slipped from Rawen’s lips as he felt the Princess wrap both hands around his penis. He bit his lip, clenching his hands into fists.
“And he’s hard. This makes him the most keen so far.”
“At last some good news!” The Queen’s voice carried relief. “What’s your name, boy?”
Rawen opened his mouth at once, but it still took several tries to wet his lips enough to allow speech. “Rawen, my Queen.”
“And where are you housed?”
“The stables, my Queen. I work with the horses and hunting dogs.”
The Princess made small, happy sounds at the back of her throat. “Good with animals. Wonderful traits for a donor… and look at this fabulous hair! The dark, curly type is so rare… I want him.”
Rawen flinched as though punched in the gut. “I… I am most honored Princess Glacya.” Deep inside, he became aware that his heart was racing a furious tattoo in his chest. Blood roared in his ears. Tiny beads of sweat rolled down his bare back.
He forced a smile.
“As you should be, Stable Boy.”
Rawen tried to bow, but the Princess was still holding onto him and her nearness prevented him getting very far. Instead, as he bent, Rawen inhaled a scented mouthful of thick, golden hair.
Quickly straightening, he pressed his bound hands over his heart, remembering protocol despite the quiver in his knees. “My body to please and satisfy you.”
“Oh, you please me, Rawen.” She said his name slowly, rolling it along her tongue as though testing the taste. “And very soon you’ll satisfy me too.”
At last, she stepped back, adjusting her skirts and fluffing her hair. She glanced at the leather vanity cloth and caught it on the end of her shoe. “You won’t need this,” she declared, flicking it upwards with a swift kick. As the leather descended, she caught it in one deft hand and folded it neatly. “You have one day. Finalize your affairs – such as they are – and be ready for your summons. I may call for you sooner, so be ready.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked back to the throne, bending down to retrieve a thin band of twisted metal from a low table.
She cracked it open with a key hanging from a chain slung around her slender neck. Her eyes shone with fierce pleasure as she returned to Rawen, holding the band up for him to see.
“With this collar,” she exclaimed, raising her voice to ring through the room, “I mark my chosen Donor. You may speak with him, you may touch him – if you must – but know that he is mine. Those who would risk my wrath need only touch him in that place marked as my own.”
Rawen growled under his breath as her free hand pressed into his groin.
A polite smattering of applause filled the Hall.
Glacya held up the collar. “Lift your hair.”
Though Rawen could think of nothing he wanted to do less, he did.
The band of metal was cold and heavy, a weight on his shoulders that buckled his knees. With great effort he straightened his back.
The ends clicked together.
Glacya reached round and used her key to lock the collar into place. She then tucked it back into her bodice. Her smile was as fierce as her eyes. “Mine,” she hissed, pushing up on tip toe to press her lips against his.
Then she was gone, returning to her throne to whisper excitedly with her mother.
Rawen watched her and felt despair form a lump in his stomach.
Before he could give much thought to it, two spears clashed together before his face. “Let’s go.” The gruff female voice at his right hand side was spiked with impatience. “You’ll see her again soon enough.”
Shuffling round, Rawen trudged out of the throne room, the weight of the collar slowing his steps.
Writing: A Conversation Without Interruptions 