Dancing in the Moonlight – a short story

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He watched from the shadows of his bedroom balcony. She was there again, dancing in the moonlight. Dancing completely, utterly and mesmerizingly naked, as she had done many times before. The perspiration on her limbs reflected the glint of the full moon, and turned her into a mythical being from another world.

 

He had stopped wondering why she danced naked whenever the moon appeared as a large, silver ball in the sky. It was a miracle. It was his miracle alone. No one else in the surrounding houses had the same view as him, overlooking her almost secluded garden.

 

Her slim, lean, dancer’s body bent and flowed with effortless ease—arms and hands stretched up towards the moonlit sky, feet pointed out as she lifted her legs in turn behind her. Elegance personified.

 

Her breasts were not large, but looked soft and pliable. How he wished he could take them in his hands—to run his fingers over her smooth, velvety skin, gently massaging and squeezing them, as he would a peach to test its ripeness.

 

He wanted to run his palms down the curve of her back and meet the swell of her cheeks as they curved to meet her thighs. What mysteries and delights were to be found in the hidden cleft, that the moonlight did not reveal? What joy and pleasure was to be found in that wondrous place, that in the past he would have discovered for himself?

 

For he was an old man, who had once been strong and powerful—whose arms would have clasped such a body to his chest, and whose legs could have encircled hers and bound her to him. His cock, once so mighty, would have risen to the challenge, seeking out the warm, moist place it was designed to fill.

 

But now, at the age of ninety-one, all he had left were memories – of girls and women who had graced his bed over so many years. Lovers whose names he could no longer remember, apart from the exceptional few who had carved their initials into his heart – to be remembered in perpetuity.

 

He turned his attention to the naked beauty below, whose body swirled and flowed to the music he could only hear faintly. Chopin, he mused. It sounded like prelude in e minor, one of his favourite pieces. Such a soothing sound; but made erotic by the movement of the beauty beneath him, as her extended limbs glistened in the moonlight.

 

A miracle was occurring. That part of his body that he had thought was redundant, had stirred. He gasped gently in wonderment as sensations flowed through his groin that had been absent for so long. He reached his hand inside his silk dressing gown. No, he had not been mistaken.

 

Grasping his semi-hard cock, he slid his fingers along it in wonderment. This was a feeling he had never expected to meet again. He wanted to shout his joy to his private dancer. Tell her of the miracle she had performed. But he did not.

 

Instead he held his cock firmly within his grasp as he watched the last movements of her dance. Her previous performances had ended without acknowledgement. But tonight was different. She looked up to his balcony and gave a low curtsey, as though from a stage. Rising up she brought her hand to her mouth and blew a kiss in his direction.

 

She can’t see me, but she knows I’m here.

 

The man raised his hand, as though to catch the kiss floating in the wind. His heart was full of joy and he smiled broadly.

 

That is how they found him next day, when his carer, seeing him lying so still and suspecting the worst, called the doctor to tend him. Both men noticed the gentle smile still showing on his lips.

 

The dancer never appeared in the garden again.

 

Here is the link to the music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjGwTa-fzB8

 

 

Picture: Shutterstock

The Russian Bride – FREE for 1 day only

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The Russian Bride is currently in Kindle Unlimited on Amazon, and for ONE DAY ONLY, this coming Saturday, June 3, it will be available to everyone FREE OF CHARGE! This early summer offer is unlikely to be repeated, so I hope that you will take the opportunity to get hold of a copy. The Buy Links are below.

Here is a short excerpt to whet your appetite:

He awoke at around eight a.m. and lay for a moment on his back, going over the events of the night before. He must have been crazy, bringing home a woman like Natasha; anything could have happened. Supposing she was mentally disturbed? She could have picked up a knife from the kitchen and plunged it into his sleeping body. He decided to get dressed, and give the woman some breakfast and a wad of money to salve his conscience before dropping her back where he found her. Yes, he would do just that.

Fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, he opened his bedroom door and smelled coffee. Natasha must be in the kitchen. Sure enough, as he entered his luxury kitchen, which he seldom used, not only was there a pot of freshly brewed coffee, but she had found some bacon in his fridge and was frying it. The smell of the coffee and bacon was intoxicating; a good way to start the day, he thought. He normally left for the office on an empty stomach, and had his secretary bring him a coffee and bagel as soon as he arrived.

She certainly looked better than the night before. She had clearly showered and washed her hair, which was still damp, and was again wearing his shirt. If ever a woman looked fuckable, Natasha, with her shapely figure encased in a man’s shirt, with bare legs, and probably a bare arse too, was it. He moved swiftly towards the breakfast bar so that he could conceal the bulge in his jeans. He was determined that he wasn’t going to let his dick be the one in charge.

“Good morning, Natasha, I hope you slept well.”

He decided not to mention the little episode at three-thirty, unless she brought it up. “Good morning. Yes, I slept very well, thank you.”
“Mmm, something smells good. Coffee and bacon is a good way to start the day,” he said.

“I hope you don’t mind… you know… doing this without your permission.”

“Not at all. I might have to make it a condition for my future girlfriends, that they make me breakfast before they leave.”

That was a crass thing to say, he thought. Implying that there was a revolving door of women who stayed over at his place when, in fact, it was a rare occurrence, but she made no comment and her expression didn’t change.

“I didn’t make toast yet because I couldn’t find bread in the fridge.”

He couldn’t remember when he last ate toast at home, but had a feeling that there was some bread in the freezer. He had guessed right, and brought a small frozen whole-wheat loaf to the toaster, which sat pristinely on top of the breakfast bar. He hoped he could remember how it worked, but he didn’t need to.

“It’s okay, I can do it. You sit and have some coffee, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me sir. My name is James.” 
“Oh, I… yes, of course.” 
Why had she called him sir, and why did she seem surprised when he told her to call him by name? He wondered if perhaps she was a submissive. It was about time they had a little chat.

Buy Links:

Amazon US           https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon UK         https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon Canada     https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon Australia   https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B06XH4C3BW

 

Grigory_s special parties involved far more than champagne and canapés.

News from the Front!

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I’ve been a bit absent on both my websites lately. I’m in the process, at the request of my publishers, in transferring my back catalogue of books into the name of Juliette Banks, the name I have used for the most recent books. Some of you may know that my Rachel de Vine name was open to spelling mistakes, and this caused a little confusion. Very soon all of my erotic romances will be published in Juliette’s name.

I am taking this opportunity to tidy up some of my earlier books, even re-writing in places, and one or two of the covers may be changed, before they are re-released. Once they are re-published I will continue to write in both names, but will keep the name of Rachel de Vine for short stories and writing in other genres.

I will keep you up to date as each book is released, and I hope you will continue to follow me, as well as visit me on my other website: www.racheldevineauthor.com

Please also follow me at https://www.facebook.com/juliettebanksauthor/ and https://www.facebook.com/racheldevinewriter

Here’s a little video I made:

 

Looking forward to being back here soon with some new material. In the meantime, I hope you all have a great summer. (Except for my antipodean friends, who will insist on living on the other side of the Earth, and are now facing winter.)

Weekend Writing Warriors for May 7

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Welcome to the blog where a group of authors offer 8 – 10 lines of their work, for others to read and comment. When you have finished here, why not click on the link (www.wewriwa.com) and see what others are writing?

I am once again taking my snippet from The Russian Bride. Natasha, who was born in Russia but has spent some years in England, is kidnapped by a Russian criminal called Viktor, and her journey ends at his home, an isolated house in a rural area near St. Petersburg. Viktor takes Natasha into the house, where she meets two young women, who turn out to be Viktor’s lovers. Natasha assumes that she has been brought here to join their number, and is totally unprepared for what Viktor tells her next. (Some punctuation changes from the book to conform to the rules.)

Her voice trembled and was barely audible, “What do you want with me?”

“Well, little Natasha, you need have no fear of me; I am not interested in young girls and I will not touch you without your consent.” He paused, “You look surprised, so you think I am a monster, do you? She did not reply. “I intend to keep you here until you are older, and then I shall expect you to marry me and provide me with a son.”

Natasha stepped back suddenly, “You want me to marry you?”

He laughed. “You think that I am not the marrying sort? Just because I have floozies like those two in my bed, doesn’t mean that I don’t want a wife and child one day. And I have decided that you are ideal to mould into the perfect wife for me.”

(NB Just to clarify things – Natasha is 18 when she is kidnapped, even though Viktor often refers to her as a young girl. He is much older – in his fifties.)

This will be my last snippet from The Russian Bride. As you will know from my earlier snippets, Natasha manages to escape from Viktor after a year of marriage, and is rescued by James. However there are several twists and turns before the story ends. I may take a short break before I post again.

 

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Natasha, a Russian-born woman living in London, catches the eye of Viktor, a middle-aged Russian gangster. He wants her as his wife, the mother of his son, and his submissive partner in the kinky sex he enjoys at his isolated home near Saint Petersburg. But he doesn’t ask her to accompany him – he just takes what he wants.

Surprisingly, Natasha begins to accept her new life. Is she really a natural submissive, or has Viktor brainwashed her? Viktor is adamant that he will not have sex with her until they are married, but he shows her just how kinky he likes it by taking her to orgies held by his friend, and tells her that this is the type of life she can expect as his wife.

Everything turns sour, however, and on a visit to London, Natasha has to flee for her life – where businessman, James Miller, comes to her aid. Over the course of the next few days, Natasha tells James her story, and as horrified as he is, he cannot deny his attraction to the beautiful young woman. He vows to help her.

Neither of them realize quite how much danger they will be in for defying Viktor, but James is willing to risk everything to rescue her from this man. Can he do it? And does Natasha return his feelings?

Publisher’s Note: This fast-paced tale contains explicit themes including power exchange, capture, multiple sexual partners and discipline. If such material offends, please do not purchase.

Buy Links for The Russian Bride are:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon Canada https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06XH4C3BW

An erotic tale of love and lust

Weekend Writing Warriors for April 30

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Welcome to the blog where a group of authors offer 8 – 10 lines of their work, for others to read and comment. When you have finished here, why not click on the link (www.wewriwa.com) and see what others are writing?

I am once again taking my snippet from The Russian Bride. Natasha, who was born in Russia but has spent some years in England, is kidnapped by a Russian criminal called Viktor, and her journey ends at his home, an isolated house in a rural area near St. Petersburg. Viktor takes Natasha into the house. (Slightly edited to conform to the ten sentence rule.)

Natasha heard some girlish giggles and two glamorous young women came down the stairs and made a beeline for Viktor, chattering ten to the dozen in Russian. From the way they were dressed, Natasha deduced that they were not servants. They clung to Viktor’s arms, one on either side, and kissed him on the cheek. Viktor seemed a little irritated with them and shook them off, saying something in Russian that sounded brusque, which she couldn’t interpret. They backed off a little but remained close, eyeing Natasha suspiciously.

Viktor turned to her and spoke in English for her benefit.

“This is Lara and Ekaterina. They are rather stupid and drive me mad at times, but they’re good where it matters.”

Natasha deduced from their lack of reaction that they didn’t speak any English. However, she was not in a hurry to reveal that she knew what was being said as Viktor sent the girls away until dinnertime, without explaining the arrival of the young woman to them.

So the reason for Natasha’s kidnap is still only known to Viktor himself. Read more next time.

The Russian Bride Video Image

 

Natasha, a Russian-born woman living in London, catches the eye of Viktor, a middle-aged Russian gangster. He wants her as his wife, the mother of his son, and his submissive partner in the kinky sex he enjoys at his isolated home near Saint Petersburg. But he doesn’t ask her to accompany him – he just takes what he wants.

Surprisingly, Natasha begins to accept her new life. Is she really a natural submissive, or has Viktor brainwashed her? Viktor is adamant that he will not have sex with her until they are married, but he shows her just how kinky he likes it by taking her to orgies held by his friend, and tells her that this is the type of life she can expect as his wife.

Everything turns sour, however, and on a visit to London, Natasha has to flee for her life – where businessman, James Miller, comes to her aid. Over the course of the next few days, Natasha tells James her story, and as horrified as he is, he cannot deny his attraction to the beautiful young woman. He vows to help her.

Neither of them realize quite how much danger they will be in for defying Viktor, but James is willing to risk everything to rescue her from this man. Can he do it? And does Natasha return his feelings?

Publisher’s Note: This fast-paced tale contains explicit themes including power exchange, capture, multiple sexual partners and discipline. If such material offends, please do not purchase.

Buy Links for The Russian Bride are:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon Canada https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon Australia https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Grigory_s special parties involved far more than champagne and canapés.

Weekend Writing Warriors for April 23

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Welcome to the blog where a group of authors offer 8 – 10 lines of their work, for others to read and comment. When you have finished here, why not click on the link (www.wewriwa.com) and see what others are writing?

I am writing this on the last day of my holiday in Portugal. We have had a wonderful time (10 family members) and the sun has shone every day. I fly home tomorrow.

I am again taking a snippet from my latest book, The Russian Bride. Natasha has been drugged and kidnapped from her London home, after a man called Viktor killed her stepfather, Boris, in a gangland revenge killing. The small plane arrives in Russia.

Viktor’s face appeared as if through a fog as Natasha blinked at the bright lights. She was very stiff and a little overwhelmed, and two strong men lifted her from her seat and carried her down the steps of the private plane and into a waiting limousine. Viktor climbed in beside her and one of his bodyguards sat up front next to the driver.

He passed her a blanket. “Here, girl. You must be cold.”

Natasha found it hard to reconcile this courteous and more caring man with the one who had cold-bloodedly put a bullet through Boris’s forehead. She took the blanket from him and wrapped it around the thin clothes she had been wearing when she left home. Not only was she cold, but she was also in a state of shock, and perhaps Viktor realised that, for he stopped talking and the journey to wherever they were travelling was taken in silence.

So Natasha does not yet know where she is going and why.

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Natasha, a Russian-born woman living in London, catches the eye of Viktor, a middle-aged Russian gangster. He wants her as his wife, the mother of his son, and his submissive partner in the kinky sex he enjoys at his isolated home near Saint Petersburg. But he doesn’t ask her to accompany him – he just takes what he wants.

Surprisingly, Natasha begins to accept her new life. Is she really a natural submissive, or has Viktor brainwashed her? Viktor is adamant that he will not have sex with her until they are married, but he shows her just how kinky he likes it by taking her to orgies held by his friend, and tells her that this is the type of life she can expect as his wife.

Everything turns sour, however, and on a visit to London, Natasha has to flee for her life – where businessman, James Miller, comes to her aid. Over the course of the next few days, Natasha tells James her story, and as horrified as he is, he cannot deny his attraction to the beautiful young woman. He vows to help her.

Neither of them realize quite how much danger they will be in for defying Viktor, but James is willing to risk everything to rescue her from this man. Can he do it? And does Natasha return his feelings?

Publisher’s Note: This fast-paced tale contains explicit themes including power exchange, capture, multiple sexual partners and discipline. If such material offends, please do not purchase.

Buy Links for The Russian Bride are:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon Canada https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06XH4C3BW

Amazon Australia https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B06XH4C3BW

The power of sensory deprivation

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(This post is not suitable for under 18s. Please go and read elsewhere.)

Those of us fortunate to have the use of all five senses sometimes take them for granted, even when we are involved in an erotic act. We feel the touch of someone’s hand, we smell their arousal, we see the soft curves of a woman’s body, or the muscle definition on a man’s chest, we hear the soft whispers into our ears that are intended to send the erotic messages straight to the pleasure part of our brains, and we taste the beads of sweat running down the other person’s body as we run our tongues over their slightly salty skin. These senses combine to arouse us, and if used to maximum effect, can turn ordinary sex into an erotic, sensual experience.

What a lot of people also know is that the restriction of one of these senses can increase the sexual tension as the remaining senses become heightened and more powerful. Thus a person deprived of sound might find that their sense of taste or touch is more powerful as a result. In my book Out of the Darkness, Marianne, a beautiful submissive model, is blindfolded by William, a Dominant man, so that she cannot anticipate whether she is to experience pleasure or pain. She finds that the loss of her sight heightens her remaining senses, so that her erotic experience is lifted to a higher level and the pleasure for them both is magnified. Enjoy the experience with them.

*****

The room was almost dark, with just flickers of light coming from the logs burning in the hearth. I could just see his shape, sitting in the leather, wing-backed chair, silhouetted by the fire.

“Come here.”

His voice was quiet, but with the firmness I had come to expect from him. I moved closer and knelt down in front of him, my naked bottom facing the warmth of the fire. I bent my head downwards and looked at the floor as I had been taught, but he surprised me by lifting up my chin with his hand.

“You look so beautiful.”

He bent and kissed me softly on the lips, and I shivered in anticipation. Was it to be pleasure or pain this time? Or perhaps a combination of both, delivered the way that only he can. He produced a dark, silk scarf from the arm of the chair and tied it around my eyes so that the gloom of the room was reduced to complete darkness. I could feel his breath on my bare shoulders as he tied it tightly at the back of my head. He stood and pulled me up with him.

“Hands behind your back.”

I obeyed immediately. He turned me around to face away from him and I felt the click as he connected the wristbands together so that my hands were firmly connected.

“Stay.”

I heard him move away for just a few seconds, returning swiftly to stand in front of me. I trembled, not knowing what was in his mind or what was probably now in his hand. I felt something soft and ticklish brush against my breasts.

“What is this?”

I racked my brain to put a name to the sensation. The soft tickle moved to the inside of my thigh as it brushed slowly up my leg from my knee, almost to… he stopped, waiting for me to answer his question.

“It is a feather, Master.”
”Very good. It is a soft, white feather.” He was silent a moment. “Now what is this?”
I was jolted out of my reverie by a sudden swishing noise and a sharp sting on my breast.

“It is a crop, Master.”
”Yes, you are correct.”
He reached forward and his lips grazed my left ear lobe, sending a shiver straight to my sex.

He whispered into my ear. “Now which one should I use first, do you think?”
He knew that the blindfold added greatly to the anticipation. If I couldn’t see what was coming, I could not ready myself for whichever sensation to expect.
 He walked around me, the occasional feel of his clothes as they caught against my arm or leg all that reminded me he was still there. I could not see him but I knew he was watching me intently. Several seconds passed and nothing happened. My senses were on edge, trying to anticipate when and where he would strike first. I shivered as the feather stroked down the middle of my back, the first touch. Would it be the feather again?

I felt the same sensation on the back of my calf. I was sure that the crop would come next, but he was lulling me into a sense of relaxed bliss and used the feather yet again, this time drawing it between my legs, barely touching the lips of my sex, yet setting off a yearning deep within me.

One second later a fiery burning crossed my bottom as the crop was lashed across it. Even though I knew that it was coming, it seemed to have come from nowhere. My bottom cheek was still burning when a fresh sting came from the front of my thigh. My breath caught in my throat.

“Breathe, my darling. Don’t forget to breathe.”

He kissed me softly on my shoulder and I felt the feather touch my belly and slide downwards. I breathed quickly several times, totally lost in the sensations that were pulsing through my mind and my body as I struggled to cope with the intensity of what he was doing. He was controlling me completely, body and soul. I gave myself totally to this man. I trusted him completely. I adored him.

He stopped for a moment and I felt his warm fingers slide down my body and between my thighs, where the dampness revealed the depth of my pleasure. He pushed two fingers into me and used his thumb to rub my clitoris until I could not stop from groaning.

He laughed gently. “No, my darling, you haven’t earned your pleasures yet. Move over here and rest your hands on the chair.

He moved me gently towards the leather armchair in which he had been sitting, and pressed my body downwards until my hands were flat on the chair seat. I could feel the warmth of the fire on my bottom as I arched my back and spread my legs apart in the way he had taught me. I was ready for him and I knew that he was watching me for any little deviation from the rules. If I moved from that position the strokes would be increased, so I stood absolutely still – waiting for him.

Without warning he began to use the crop across my buttocks, but this time there was no soft feather between the strokes. This time the strokes were hard and quick. The teasing and the waiting between each stroke were gone. Again and again he brought the crop down until my cheeks were stinging. It was painful, but it was also intensely pleasurable as I absorbed the impact of each stroke and gloried in the fact that I was loved and desired by my Master, the most exciting man I had ever known.

That excerpt was taken from my book, Out of the Darkness.