Monday, February 25, 2013

Wicked Good Fun!

I've got a new story coming out this Wednesday from Ellora's Cave. It's called On Being Wicked.

If you've read either "Fairy Dust" or "Marvin and the Three Bears," you'll understand the havoc that is created with some of the sexed-up Fairy Dust gets thrown on Rapunzel.

On Being Wicked is short and sexy and has some good chuckles as well. Below you'll find the back cover blurb and a quick taste of the tale.  Enjoy!

On Being Wicked

Takes place in the world of Fairy Dust and Marvin and the Three Bears.
Discovering a prince is secretly visiting her prisoner, Rapunzel, the evil witch decides to punish them bothuntil a little harmless meddling from a substitute Fairy Godmother transforms her from harried hag to horny hottie.
Now theres no time for hexing, what with all the sexing, including a hands-on (and mouth-onand tongue-on) warm-up courtesy of Rapunzel and her prince, and a lusty punishment from two gorgeous guys who put the wood in woodsmen.
The witch is about to discover just how wicked she can be.
Inside Scoop: This story has just enough sexed-up Fairy Dust to produce a hint of female/female fun, a pinch of male/male pleasure and a heaping helping of ménage.

Chapter One

Marvin reached his hands above his head and stretched, savoring the strain in his muscles, the ache in his ass. He smiled at the not-so-subtle reminder of how he’d spent the night.

Flu had taken down half the Fairy Godmothers in Fairy Tale Land and he hadn’t been able to visit his Bears for three days. Papa Bear had taken out his frustration on Marvin’s ass in the most delightful way.

Marvin giggled. He might have to miss a few visits if that was the reaction he got from Alex.

And perhaps not by choice. Several Fairy Godmothers were still out so he had to jump back into the role. This morning he was monitoring Rapunzel. He sighed. It was one of his least favorite tales. Everyone was miserable for most of the story.

He glanced into the Looking Glass and waited as the scene cleared. The tale began. The woman who lived next door stole the lettuce from the witch’s backyard. The witch demanded the couple’s child as payment.

“If anyone needs to get laid, it’s her,” Marvin muttered. “Getting pissy because someone ate your lettuce?”

He looked over at the sparkling, silver-and-gold Happily Ever After Fairy Dust spinning in its jar on the counter. That’s what she needs…some of Marlena’s special sexed-up Fairy Dust.

He chuckled. No, he couldn’t do that. It would be wrong.

And a little bit funny.

But wrong.

He tapped his fingers on the edge of the Looking Glass, reminding himself that as second-in-command of Fairy Tale Land, he had responsibilities. He couldn’t just change a tale because he didn’t like it.

But then he thought about how well his own tale had turned out. Maybe mixing up some of the traditional stories wasn’t such a bad idea…

He sighed and continued monitoring the story. The tale progressed as it should. Rapunzel locked in the tower, growing up, her hair growing long. The witch visiting and calling for the hair to be dropped down.

I can’t believe kids read this shit, he thought. Who would have a braid long enough and strong enough to support the weight of a human body? And the witch is no lightweight.

Marvin sighed again. At last, it was almost time to add the regular Happily Ever After Fairy Dust. The prince walked toward the tower, ready to visit his beautiful blonde. The witch stepped out of the forest, freezing as she saw the prince call for Rapunzel to let down her hair.

Damn, this story needs a boost.

His gaze flicked once again to the sexed-up Fairy Dust, the sparkles swirling lazily in the jar.

“Oh, what the hell.”

Before he could think better of it, Marvin grabbed the jar and scooped out a small handful. He took a breath, closed his eyes and opened his palm over the Looking Glass.

The gold-and-silver sparkles floated down toward the scene. He waited. Listening. Holding his breath until he heard the telltale, “Ah-choo!”

The edge of his mouth kicked up in a knowing smile and he leaned over the side to watch.

Monday, February 18, 2013

New release!

Jumping in quick to let you all know I have a new release. UNDER HIS SPELL is written under my Mystic Shade nom de plume since it deals with "the shadier sides of our desires." (wicked grin)

This full-length novel is available in all ebook formats, but be warned! It contains scenes of hypnotism, bondage, whipping and other BDSM activities. It ain't for the faint of heart, that's for darn sure.

The blurb is in the sidebar (now edited), but here's an excerpt to whet your appetite:

by Mystic Shade
All Rights Reserved


Alex silently slid back the panel in the door that opened a tiny window into the cell beyond. Curled into a fetal ball, the remains of a once-proud, independent woman lay sobbing after her most recent use. From here he could see the cum smears on her ass cheeks from where the men had taken her tiny hole with their massive cocks – and he smiled.
Sliding the panel shut, he turned to the older woman beside him. “This one is nearly broken?”
“Very nearly, sir. She still sobs, which implies she still has resistance, despite the contract she signed. A few more sessions and she will be ready for the next step of her training.”
“Excellent, Annabel. You have done well, as always.”
“Of course I have, sir. I was trained by the best.”
Alex heard the pride in the woman’s voice and had the good sense not to smile. Hand-picked from the offerings at the very first slave auction his family ever held, the now-elderly woman had lost none of her own discipline and training. Since his father’s untimely death, “Miss Annabel” had become simply “Annabel” to him, and an invaluable asset in keeping the family’s side business going.
“Let me see the next one.”
“This way, sir. Follow me.”
The woman’s thinness might lead one to think her a frail old lady, but Alex had to smile as she led the way down the brightly lit cinder-block corridor to the next cell. Anyone fooled by her small size would have that illusion immediately dispelled by the crisp command in a voice that brooked no disobedience.
A month before his thirtieth birthday, Alex Davidson had become full owner of his family business when his father died of a heart attack while in Miss Annabel’s arms. It was a wonderful way to go and he hoped someday he might find a slave of his own who would be as dedicated as the woman beside him was to his father.
He paused before the next cell, the thick door muffling but not silencing the strident voice coming from within.
“Get me the fuck out of here. You can’t keep me chained like this. I demand to see a lawyer. Who the fuck do you all think you are?”
Alex only raised an eyebrow at Annabel who shrugged. “A new acquisition. Just came in this morning.”
Alex nodded, opening the panel to a string of vituperation. “Fuck you! Open that fucking door and let me the fuck out of here. This isn’t what I signed the fuck up for.”
“Does she know any other adjective?” Alex’s voice was deliberately calm and impersonal.
“Not that we’ve heard, sir.”
Alex chuckled at Annabel’s tone. Still, he had to ask. “And her paperwork is all in order?”
Annabel’s dry look was all the confirmation he needed. His father had always been adamant. No slave who wasn’t here willingly. Each woman had to not only sign a contract, but also sign in front of witnesses of her own choosing.
The scream from inside the chamber made Alex chuckle again. Getting past the second thoughts was always the loudest part of the training.
“No food or water until she learns how to say ‘please’.”
“Fuck you!”
Alex shut the panel with finality. He’d enjoy watching this one fall. Always far more fun to break the ones with spirit than the crybabies who were scared of their own shadows.
His father always kept three slaves in various states of training, feeling that to have too many spread the attention too thin. Alex had been running the business for a year and thought they could handle as many as five, but kept to his father’s model for now. So far, it had worked well. But times were changing and the demand had grown. He had some new ideas of his own he wanted to try and in fact, had already put some into practice with Annabel’s assistance. But there was one more cell, and one more slave-to-be to see.
“Show me the last one.”
With a smile that would have chilled a lesser man, but which said to Alex that Annabel liked the way this next one was coming, the woman walked to the end of the corridor, pausing beside the third cell. Again Alex slid open a panel to peer inside.
The slender woman inside turned at the slight sound, dropping to her knees and facing the door. He’d caught her in the act of doing a series of stretches slaves were expected to do to keep themselves limber. But now she knelt on her heels, her knees spread wide, her hands behind her head and her breasts pushed forward in offering, her eyes down in submission. There hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation in her move.
“This one will fetch a good price,” Annabel told him, and Alex saw a blush of pride come up in the woman’s cheeks.
“Excellent. You have done a marvelous job, Annabel.”
The older woman pursed her lips and only Alex understood the look for a smile.
“Thank you, sir.” She indicated the woman inside. “You have been away and have not had the opportunity to sample this one’s talents. Shall I send her to you?”
“Has she been tested?”
“I take it she passed?”
“She begged at the door for entrance.”
He smiled. “Then send her to the office. I want her services worked into tomorrow’s schedule.”
Annabel nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Alex shut the panel and followed the older woman along the corridor, parting with her at the elevator to the office building above them.
“We are glad to have you back, sir.”
He paused in the elevator. “Thank you, Annabel. I am very glad to be back.”

What are you waiting for? Get your copy today!

Monday, February 11, 2013

Simplicity At Its Best

This past week, I was doing some clean-up in my kitchen. Of course the television was on (as it always is). I have it strategically set up so I can watch it while cooking, etc. I thought I’d find something to watch that would take an hour or so. Flipping through channels, nothing caught my attention until I came to Dances With Wolves. And to my glee, it had just started! Kitchen cleaning would have to wait. I took up residence in my comfy lazy-boy and gave myself the gift of the afternoon.
Now, if any of you have ever read any of my interviews in the past, if asked I will ALWAYS state this movie is my all-time favorite. No other has ever captured my imagination and pulled at my emotions like this story. I’m a nut for anything historical and even crazier about real romance. I bet I’ve seen Dances With Wolves at least fifteen times. I even have the sound track, which I’m listening to as I write this blog.

Dances With Wolves is simplicity at its best.
It is a sweeping epic western that defied all the odds. Who would have ever dreamed a two and a half hour movie with English subtitles could win numerous Oscars and Golden Globes? There were no pyrotechnics, but instead campfires. One could almost smell the charred wood and the wispy trails of smoke. There were no blue screens with hurricane force fans off to the side as an actor sat atop a fake horse, but actual riders on horseback racing hell-bent across a prairie. There was no computer animation where characters shot through the sky or where unearthly monsters leapt past the camera lens.

Yet there were times during this modern classic that I sat on the edge of my chair, my breath hitched in my throat. There were times I swiped at my tears and moments I chuckled to myself. And it was partly due to the beautiful, breathtaking windswept vistas of South Dakota and Wyoming. It was due to a perfectly told story, a statement of truth as to what happened during a period of US history, a journey on the screen that pulled at my heartstrings.
Being a writer, to me the movie, Dances With Wolves, is a perfect example of how the most important thing is always the story, is always the emotional connection a viewer or reader has with the characters, and goes to show if a story captures your imagination then greatness is defined. And it can be done without all the modern day fanfare. It can be real and honest.

Yup, simplicity at it’s very best.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Super Bowl Sunday

The Super Bowl is one of the most watched sporting events in the United States. Fans root all season for their favorite team to land in one of the two coveted spots in the Super Bowl. Millions are spent on this one game. Fans pay big for a seat in the stands. Homebound fans throw big time parties celebrating the event. At some point, it doesn't matter who is playing. It's the simple fact it's a reason for sports fans to gather and party. Loads of beer is guzzled. Snacks are devoured. Dips and chips galore. Gotta love a great dip. :)
And Football pools are formed. Millions of dollars are bet on this one game alone. Even I threw in $20 and put my name in a box in the hopes of coming out a winner. Fingers crossed for my numbers to at least happen during a quarter. LOL!
But, I have to admit the main reason I watch the game at all...1) to spend time with the family but
2) to watch the commercials. The Super bowl has the best commercials of all time.
My favorites are the Budwieser commercials with the Clydesdales. Gotta love them big beautiful beasts. But there was one commercial that I'll never forget. It made me smile and even today, it still can bring a smile to my face when I remember it. Mean Joe Green, a little boy, a coke and dirty jersey. Everyone knows that one. Did you smile? I did just writing the words.
So to all the fans out there, I know there are others like me. What's your favorite reason to watch the Super Bowl? Do you have a favorite Super Bowl commercial?
The half time shows have gone too far overboard for me. It's the commercials that rule.
Tell me your favorites.
Tara Nina