Shapeshifter has a cover!

I'm so happy, I could burst into confetti made of little hearts!
My artist friend finished the cover for "Shapeshifter" and it's glorious! I'm still editing the story, but now that I've got the cover, I've got a reason to speed things up and get this done quickly.
Check it out:

Friday Fade-Out! - Bending the Unbreakable, Chapter 17

I found out I actually can work after skipping the sleep thing, it's just a bit harder. ;) Don't mind the typos, I wrote this going on three hours of not very pleasant rest.  
Find the entire story here!


Luckily, the talk with Ilydra had ended on a positive note. Her delight over Rhysling’s plans for his human pet had made her giggle and swoon, and the boisterous chat had almost made Rhys forget the time.
He felt invigorated, a mood only strengthened by the soft sighs and moans welcoming him to his private quarters. Rhys may have been able to move like spider’s silk in a breeze, quick like lightning on a cold spring night, but creeping towards the bound, helpless, lustful man still felt like a child’s game of hide and seek. He felt clumsy and giddy, with prickling fingertips and reddening cheeks.
Stopping in the shade of the doorway, he took a moment to let his eyes wander over the human’s body. The Dragon’s Tail in the wound salve had set his body on fire to such an extent that not even the cool breeze of the room could keep him from sweating. The wounds had closed beautifully, if probably painfully, leaving the stitches as cruel, dark reminders of past torture, and a healthy, rosy color had bled all through his pale body. Niro was hanging in the shackles like so much dead weight at this moment, but Rhys had no illusions about the inner turmoil he was still going through; Dragon’s Tail was like a whip to that hot knot deep inside each living being, slapping their lust and need to screaming life, just to let it fade and then repeat the cycle.
Rhysling stepped into the bed chamber with a resolute sigh and walked towards the bound man. Niro’s reaction was slow, but when he finally raised his head to stare at his master, there was still fire in his eyes. Oh, the things that human probably wished on Rhys!
The Ailill slowly circled around the splayed and bound body, smiling at the sight of his hard, dripping manhood, and trailed over to his commode nonchalantly. As he opened the drawers and rummaged through his private garments, he could feel his pet’s angry look burn into the back of his head, but for now, both of them kept their quiet, visually stalking each other.
Rhys carefully took off his tunic, folded it and set it on top of the commode. This broke the spell and the human couldn’t stay quiet any longer.
He snarled, trying his best not to sound as breathless as he probably was. “Let me go, you bastard.”
“Your erection looks painful,” Rhys pointed out, taking a flask of oil and a pair of clamps out of the drawer before closing it.
The human twitched, blushed and started tugging on the chains. “That’s none of your business, elf,” he hissed angrily. The heated flushes were racing over his taut body, almost as if following Rhys’ gaze to wherever his eyes wandered, but his eyes settled on those rosy, perky nipples. Rhys wandered closer, sliding onto the bed in front of Niro in nothing but his dark linen pants, just close enough to be able to touch him, but with enough distance to enjoy the whole sight.
“I plan on making it my business,” he purred, adjusted the first clamp in his fingers to a rather soft setting, and held it up. “Do you know what this is?”
Niro frowned. “No.”
Rhys smiled a slow smile. This was going better than anticipated. Reactions to the Dragon’s Tail weren’t always a true indicator for a person’s sexual desires, but he had seen the human’s reaction to the first stages of whipping. It had been promising, very much so, and today he would find out if he had been right in his judgement of the bound man. With a quick, agile movement, he slipped the first clamp over Niro’s right nipple, letting it snap closed and retreating before the first gasp wafted out of Niro’s mouth.
It wasn’t the tightest or strongest clamp Rhys had, but the human shuddered and hissed anyway. His eyes widened with the sudden, increasing burn, then a shiver ran through his body and right into his manhood, making it twitch and throb and drip clear fluids. His face was a mask of surprised pain, but the rest of his body spoke a different, lewder language.
“Let me go, you damned bastard! No, don’t—”
Rhys had to fight down his own excited shiver when the second clamp bit into Niro’s left nipple, cutting off his curses and sending his body into short, tempered convulsions as he fought his twitching body for air. Sweat rolled down the male’s prone body, slithering down the grooves and dimples between his prominent muscles and finally disappearing either into the bush of pubic hair, or dripping down into the bedding. The air was filled with the tangy aroma of arousal and fear, sweet, cloying and heady. The sight was almost too much, too inviting, too decadent to stand, but Rhys kept his prickling fingers in check.
“Say you want me to touch you,” he demanded, outwardly calm where inside, he was anything but serene. His teeth itched with the need to leave a mark on the already scarred body, and with a lust for other, darker things. The hunger that was unique to his kind reared its ugly head, tempering his giddy desire with a thread of fear. The knowledge of what would happen if he lost control was enough to rein in his appetite. For now.
The human tugged on his chains, snarling at him, even though his cock jumped in beat with his pulse, dripping a steady stream of pre-come. “Never!” he barked.
Rhys flicked one of the clamps with a hand gesture quick as a striking snake, his fingers pulling back just as fast as they had thrust forward, sending a ripple of burning pain through the sensitive nub. Niro bucked in agony, groaning loudly as the waves of pain and pleasure rushed through his tense body, blushing even deeper when his lance dribbled another line of excited liquid.
“Say it. You know you want it,” Rhys said, leaning closer as he flared his nostrils against the stink of human excitement. Such crude creatures they were, those humans, but there was something about that raw, violent energy that was simply too attractive to turn away from.
The question sent another shiver through Niro. His face clearly stated how close he was to spilling himself, how desperately he wanted to, and how alien the concept of being touched really was to him. His face didn’t so much look like the expression of someone trying to withstand lust, but rather someone who didn’t connect touching with desire. And he desperately didn’t want to come like this, shackled and tortured and watched by a stranger.
His usual game wouldn’t work on that one, Rhys saw that. “You are a virgin, are you not?” he purred, and flicked the other clamp with just as careful a force as the first one, humming happily when Niro bucked and groaned through gnashed teeth and goosebumps. But this time, instead of waiting for an answer, Rhys didn’t let him come down. The Ailill wrapped his long fingers around the weeping length and gave it an experienced tug from root to tip, just once.
Niro shouted, more out of surprised euphoria than with pain, and exploded violently. The orgasm raced through his body like a wave of stinging heat, tightening muscles in his stomach and crotch that he hadn’t known he possessed until now, cut off his air, and made him thrust into the tight, hot-wet grip around his length before he knew what he was doing. Little stars danced through his sight as he sagged into the chains, gasping for air and groaning at the same time, all but boneless with ecstasy.
Rhys lifted his soiled hand and watched the globs of white semen thread a  web between his fingers, fighting down another wave of hunger that came with the beautiful sight. And to think, that human would be his for however long he wanted him…
“Now you understand, don’t you? We will try this again, but no free rides for you anymore. The next time, you will have to ask for it,” he said and watched Niro’s eyes widen as he raised his hand again, towards his nipple, just as promised. This would be a long night, Rhys promised himself.

Friday Fade-Out! - Bending the Unbreakable, Chapter 16

I know I'm late, sorry! I didn't want to drop below the 1k-mark, so I had to keep writing. ;) At least I got one of the three plots unfolding in this story done, and I re-wrote the storyline I lost. Yay!
Find the entire story here!


“We don’t meet here often,” Ilydra quipped, casually looking through the front parlor of the regent’s palace. “Has something happened to your private quarters? Or have you accommodated private company there you don’t want me to see?”
Her gown was beautiful, albeit of a simple cut; a dark, autumn-orange dress with knotted, wide-cut bell sleeves offering glimpses of her creamy arms, tight below her bosom and around her hips, but spreading and flowing down her legs like falling leaves. A sparse smattering of jewels adorned the upper hem and enticed the eye to look at her womanly features, but still didn’t make a point of the expensive decoration. A lesser Ailill woman would have used a dress like that for a high feast, maybe even a handfasting, but for Ilydra, this was casual evening wear. Any Ailill noble would have been lucky to court her, rich, beautiful and powerful as she was, but in spite of that, she still chose to spend most of her time with the one unavailable suitor she had ever met.
Rhysling lounged across the sitting arrangement, filling the settee with his limber form, a smoky, dark blotch next to her sunny form. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t appreciate the special honor her constant companionship bestowed on him, because he did. The reason why he chose and enjoyed to spend so much time with a fae woman was simply her mind. There was and always would be more to life than fucking or rallying more power, and where other nobles just saw a beautiful woman ready to be claimed, Rhysling saw a powerful woman ready to savor all of life’s offerings. Adding to that, there was an art to a good verbal spit that only a chosen few people had mastered. Ilydra was the only one in Rhysling’s select circle, who managed to survive the fights with him unfettered and unperturbed, and still wanted to associate with him.
He threw her a lazy smile. “I might have indulged myself, indeed. There is nothing wrong with sampling wares I procured, is there?” he purred, fighting against the vision of his human pet bound and twitching beneath the effects of the healing salve. Had he been younger, or less experienced, he wouldn’t have been able to withstand the delicious draw to go back and secretly spy on the boy’s torture. But still, no matter how many times he had played games like this with other suitors, his body still shivered and twitched with lust, urging him to throw away all caution and composure.
And Ilydra knew, saw it on the way he was sprawled, noticed all the little signs he tried to hide so valiantly. “I don’t begrudge you this little infatuation, you know this,” she said, then frowned softly. “But aren’t there more important tasks you are to fulfill? I do seem to remember hearing my uncle uttering something of an order, concerning you and that Lamia bitch, Seryth Tasden. Why are we here, wasting time on political banter and rutting, broken humans?”
Rhysling stilled. As much as he loved dear Ilydra, her eaves-dropping on the Ailill king of Yahir and actually knowing about his assignment, if only in part, was shocking and dangerous beyond reason. Not reacting further to her revelation was all he could do, but even that wasn’t enough to discourage her.
“I am right, am I not?” she squealed in a burst of youthful glee, clapping her gloved hands softly. “Oh, don’t look so dismayed, I have known about your profession for decades. Did you actually think I wouldn’t catch on to your travel routes coinciding with the sudden deaths of important royals? I’m not a simpleton, you know.”
“That you aren’t,” Rhys agreed, sighing. This complicated matters. Where the surprising find of that human had been a happy coincident he intended to use for his own benefit, Ilydra’s knowledge didn’t make her any more useful in reaching his goals and fulfilling his task. Under different circumstances, he would have killed whoever stuck their nose into his business, but that was not an option with his sponsor’s niece, his best friend and companion. No, he’d have to find another way to work around her, without hurting her feelings.
“You are already plotting to keep me out of your way, like a little, lost pup, aren’t you?”
Rhys smiled. There was no use in trying to hide his feelings from her. “Yes.”
“Well, stop it right now. I am not a little pup. I don’t intend to botch at your trade and I don’t cherish the illusion of being able to do an assassin’s work as some kind of holiday distraction. You know me better than that— I know better than that!” Ilydra took a deep, calming breath and picked up her glass of wine, if only to busy her fluttering hands. She only gestured when she was upset, thinking it a peasant thing to do, but it told Rhys how his fears stung her. “All I am saying is, you have a magician at your side. If you need something more than a pack of puny spell bracelets, please don’t hesitate. I trust you enough— more than you trust me, obviously— to not ask questions if you order weirder items from me.”
Weirder items, she said. Rhys couldn’t hold back the grin threatening to split his face. He knew exactly what she was talking about. There were items imbued with forbidden magicks, things that would split a person in two, right through the middle, or turn them inside out, at the wielder’s wish. Artifacts and relics so dangerous, only the highest of mages even knew about them. And Ilydra had fought hard to find herself in those ranks, high up amongst those of notorious renown.
“I don’t plan on using ‘weird’ items, but it is encouraging to know I could, should the need arise. I am sorry I didn’t trust you, my dear, but I am not used to having civilians in on my plans, or work. I’d rather keep you on the sidelines for as long as possible, but I won’t treat you like a helpless pup anymore, I promise.”
“So you won’t spill your plans to me for crooning over? A shame,” she sighed, then winked at him. “Now, tell me more about your guest in your private parlor. I want gory details.”

Supporting the arts

A friend of mine is an artist, one of those who show their works on Deviant Art and other sites, but hardly earn money with it. She loves painting and drawing, and people still think that you're supposed to get stuff from artists for free, because they need the "exposure". Draw for free, play music for free, write for free,... That's not okay.
I decided to stop this circle and hired her to draw a cover for one of my books, "Shapeshifter". It worked great, the picture is absolutely beautiful, and I'm the happiest author in the world right now. When it's finished and I'm through editing the story, I'll show it here so you can drool over it. And I'll be more than happy to give you the contact details for my dear artist friend ;)

On another, equally happy note: The crazy dog lady lawsuit against me was dropped, yeah!

Friday Fade-Out! - Bending the Unbreakable, Chapter 15

Yay! Still no finished plot, but I found a few outline notes, so I know where I wanted to go with his. Excuse the errors, I had a last-moment writing spree and just typed this down.
Find the entire story here! 

The decision to run had come too late. The Ailill’s steel grip on his throat was unbreakable, his strength shocking as the lithe elf dangled him inches above the floor with one arm and no sign of exertion. Niro flailed, trying his luck at kicking his captor, but all that got him was a rough shake and a slap. None of that helped with his increasing need to breathe, or the panic bubbling up in his chest.
Niro knew this game. It was meant to break the spirit, to prove superiority, to crush resistance. It had almost cost him his life as a boy, and the only reason he was still here had been old Cyril. The halfbreed had pulled away the Ailill drillmaster in the last possible moment, just inches from drowning the young human who wouldn’t stop bucking and struggling, no matter what. And after saving Niro from suffocation, Cyril had beaten him up so badly, he hadn’t been able to walk straight for a week. That had taught Niro to at least act the part of the subdued scholar, if only to escape Cyril’s bull whip, and he had gotten good in it.
With a cut-off snarl, Niro let his body slump, reined in his instincts to fight for his life and waited. If he stopped struggling, the Ailill would let go, this was how the game was played. Any moment now. Just a little longer. Colors bled out of the world as his sight started to weaken with lack of oxygen. His heart beat faster and faster, jumping against his ribs with the increase of panic. The Ailill smiled broader, his bone-white teeth glittering in the lamplight. His fingers tightened like murderous stone around Niro’s neck, casually crushing his windpipe, his arteries, his nerves. Niro’s mind started screaming, don’t trust him, this is not a game, he will not let go, save yourself, kill him, and finally his will gave beneath the growing pressure of self-preservation.
Niro threw his remaining strength against the Ailill’s grip, gargling through the pressure against his larynx as he struggled, tugged and kicked, but it was too late. He had waited too long and risked too much. His body was already growing faint, his sight turning darker, his fingers getting numb and hard to move as he slapped and kicked against the immovable body in front of him. At least he would go down fighting, instead of dying bound to a pole and surrounded by cheering people. Being strangled was a honorable way to die, was it not?
Niro didn’t feel the impact of his body on the ground when the Ailill finally let go. The colorful carpet burned his back as he was dragged over to the bed, but his body still didn’t obey his frantic orders. The only thing he could do was cough and gasp as he was heaved onto the bedsheets, and groan as he was lifted to close the shackles dangling from the bedposts around his wrists. The stitches holding his back together twinged and burned enough to make him groan even in his half-conscious state, but it took a little longer for him to come to his senses.
The harsh grip on his hair helped with that. The Ailill pulled his head back in a dangerous angle, staring down at his face with that intimate smile. “Be silent,” he ordered.
Niro snarled, then opened his mouth to say what he thought of his master’s orders, but the second his lips parted, the Ailill poured a honey-colored liquid into his mouth. Coughing and gasping, Niro tried to spit it out, but the angle made it all but impossible and all the coughing only forced him to swallow faster. It tasted bitter, fruity with a hint of cinnamon, like an expensive Yahirian tea. It also prickled through his throat, numbed his tongue and rushed to his head faster than it should.
With his deed done, the Ailill let his head go and stepped back, putting the stopper back into the little flask he had emptied into Niro’s mouth.
“This healing potion is quite strong, so don’t be alarmed if your wounds start itching soon,” he explained, still smiling. “I also overdosed you, which means you will have to endure a few side effects. Probably a little vertigo, increased salivating, certainly heightened libido, which is why I shackled your arms. We don’t want you to get carried away and play with yourself, now, do we?”
As much as Niro would have loved to yell at the pointy-eared bastard, the prickling in his throat had increased so much, he had a hard time doing anything else but swallowing convulsively. Worse, he could feel the first tingles on his back, a promise of things to come that he didn’t want to experience. His whole body felt warmer, thicker somehow, and all that warmth was just starting to slowly creep down his chest and towards his crotch. It felt eerily familiar, although he had never felt it in this intensity.
“Dragon’s Tail,” he hissed, tugging at the shackles wide-eyed. “You gave me Dragon’s Tail? Are you trying to kill me after all?”
The Ailill huffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic, pet. This was hardly enough to kill someone who frequents the dragon baths as much as you.  Now, just ride the waves and be calm, I have a guest to tend to.” And with that statement, the Ailill turned and walked towards the door.
“Wait! Come back!”
The door fell shut. Niro couldn’t do anything but stare at it dismayed, left alone in the lavish bedroom. His heart was beating so loud, he could hear it jump against his ribcage in the sudden silence. Then the itching on his back started, and he hissed through clenched teeth. “Good-for-nothing loiter-sack, snivelling, stinking wandought, if I get my hands around your neck,—” The itching spread all over his back and no amount of twitching or twisting bore any relief. The lone thought of having to hang there and endure this for any amount of time was unfathomable, but then the heat creeping down his belly reached his crotch, filling his length until it strained against the linen pants he was wearing. The vertigo hit him almost simultaneously, intermingling the opposing sensations until one bled into the other and his whole body was on fire.
A groan forced its way out of his throat, shivering through the empty room like a call for help. Niro closed his eyes, gasping as he started to sweat. If this was the penalty for attacking his master, it was an effective one, if unusual. But would he come if Niro called for help? Would anyone come?
Fear settled in his stomach like a stone. He wouldn’t call for help. He didn’t need help, he could endure this, he would endure this. After all, with this, he already knew what he was in for. Better than to call out and then realize that nobody would come to help. They never came, they never helped. He wouldn’t humiliate himself, not again, not anymore.
Another wave of tingling lust rushed through his body and into his cock, sending twitches through the hard length. A wet patch appeared on the cloth of his pants, another moan crept out of his throat. Niro closed his eyes harder, frowning with self-restraint. Hold on as long as you can. They never outlast you, you just need to hold on.