Excerpt: Imperial Blood Chapter 4
We're at 42% on Imperial Blood! We've sold one pony, so if you want the second one, you oughtta err, pony up! Hurr.
Sargon has posted a snippet of Chapter 4 of Imperial Blood with some forced tattooing, so here it is.
TW, maybe? Old-fashioned tattoo needles -- the kind that, you know, jab you:
Excerpt from Chapter 4
Barefoot, wrapped in her fur, she followed Narcissa down dark halls. The stone floor was cold enough for her to leave mist-lined footprints as she passed. The four guards followed behind, so quiet in their armor it was uncanny, and she glanced behind more than once to make sure they still followed. She did not trust Narcissa, and the silent guards did not reassure her. She had no protection here, and she did not delude herself otherwise.
Down a winding stair to a tall door of ornate iron and inlaid gold. Her guide opened it and passed within, and Sibylla followed, her heart quick as she wondered what she would find. Her breath frosted the air, sowing little flakes of snow as she entered a room like a small cathedral, tall yet intimate, spare yet ornate. It was round and narrow, with tall spaces in the walls that should have been windows but were not.
She paused when she saw what stood at the center, not sure for a moment what it was, though its shape was limned with menace in every line. Beside it was a small pedestal with an array of arcane tools and a black vessel like a wine decanter, small and nested reverentially in a place made for it. The door closed behind her and Sibylla turned, saw the guards there inside, standing arrayed against the wall. Their presence in the small room was too much, too close and intimate. She turned back and saw the thing for what it was: a kind of saltire, such as criminals were bound to for their torture.
Her courage left her then, and she backed away, feeling her mouth go slack and her fingers numb with more than cold. Narcissa made an impatient face and motioned to the guards. Sibylla gasped when two of them seized her arms and lifted her off her feet. The fur fell from her and left her naked, the sudden cold all over like a blow. She gasped again and then clamped her teeth together with the determination to not scream.
She did scream when they pressed her into the cold metal frame, facedown so her head hung between the upthrust arms. The cold iron burned against her chest and her belly and she fought them, unable to even make them work to hold her, so much greater was their strength. They forced her arms up into channels made for them and held her there. The other two guards came and took her ankles, held her there spread and exposed, shivering under the cold and under their unseen stares.
Narcissa trailed a cool hand down her back and she flinched, biting her lip to keep from losing all control. The white woman came around before her, tipped her chin up with one strong finger. "Do not shame yourself, girl. You are a child of a royal line, and that is why you are not bound, but only held. It is expected you will comport yourself with dignity." Very gentle, she gathered Sibylla's hair and draped it over to one side, so her back and neck were shiveringly exposed.
"It is a great honor I do you," Narcissa said, pacing slowly around. She lifted the small flask from its place and kissed it reverently. "So few are treated thus, so few deserving," she murmured. her hand lashed out and caught Sibylla's throat, held her immobile. "Do not cause me to regret that I have been kind."
Sibylla drew in a shuddering breath, then let it out. Whatever came, she would remember who she was. Narcissa released her and she held her head up, tried to be still as the woman busied herself with things Sibylla could not see past the fall of her own hair. Then a hand forced her head down and she felt something sharp dig into the back of her neck.
It was curious, at first, a small jab, then another, and then an actual warmth bloomed in her skin. She bit her lip as there was another jab, and then another, more painful. The warmth grew to a heat, and then a burning. She hissed through her teeth as she felt trails of it spread through her skin and sink into her flesh. Narcissa's cool hand snaked around and held her stead as she stippled something unseen against her neck, jabbing here and here, and then here. The sensations ceased to be distinct, grew into a duller yet deeper pain, still small.
The heat spread through her skin, and she shivered though she tried not to. Trails of it crept through her flesh like slow-moving fingers. It was a heat that grew and yet did not sear, not yet. She felt something different trail down the side of her neck and Narcissa breathed low, dabbed at it with an unseen cloth and Sibylla realized she was bleeding.
"What are you doing?" she said, managing only a whisper, cold in the pit of her belly.
"You belong to the master now," Narcissa said softly, jabbing. "You must be marked as his." Another keen stab and Sibylla drew a sharp breath through her teeth. Narcissa laughed slightly, not warm. "Does that hurt?"
Sibylla realized they were marking her. That was the small jabs and the slow burning. She was being tattooed like them. "Only a little," she said, holding her voice under tight control.
Narcissa laughed again. "That will change," she said. She continued her work, tireless and precise. Sibylla gasped as the heat seemed to burn down through her body, spreading over her back, down her legs and creeping up her arms. She shuddered, biting her lips. The guard holding her right hand shifted his grip and curled his fingers around her hand, let her grip him as tight as she wished. She wanted to look up at him and could not. Something was coming, slow and deathly, and he knew it.
I have a big ol' thing for forced tattooing, branding, marking of any kind, what-have-you, so this chapter really did it for me. Sargon points out that this book contains more erotic elements than most of the others had -- he's a fan of straight-up fucking, but this story is different in pretty much every way, so it builds slower, moves slower.
I am a giant kinky perv, so I am loving the shit out of it. I don't get enough kink. We do a little -- Witches' Mark was loaded with it (you're welcome) -- but it's not our thing. This is hitting a lot of the really good buttons for me. And maybe the next excerpt he posts will be one of the ones from Garath's point of view, hint hint, because not all of this is femsub. AHEM.
Anyway, we'd be delighted if you'd head on over to campaign home and help out, or spread the word if you like. I'd like to hit 50% by Thursday!
X-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment count:
Sargon has posted a snippet of Chapter 4 of Imperial Blood with some forced tattooing, so here it is.
TW, maybe? Old-fashioned tattoo needles -- the kind that, you know, jab you:
Excerpt from Chapter 4
Barefoot, wrapped in her fur, she followed Narcissa down dark halls. The stone floor was cold enough for her to leave mist-lined footprints as she passed. The four guards followed behind, so quiet in their armor it was uncanny, and she glanced behind more than once to make sure they still followed. She did not trust Narcissa, and the silent guards did not reassure her. She had no protection here, and she did not delude herself otherwise.
Down a winding stair to a tall door of ornate iron and inlaid gold. Her guide opened it and passed within, and Sibylla followed, her heart quick as she wondered what she would find. Her breath frosted the air, sowing little flakes of snow as she entered a room like a small cathedral, tall yet intimate, spare yet ornate. It was round and narrow, with tall spaces in the walls that should have been windows but were not.
She paused when she saw what stood at the center, not sure for a moment what it was, though its shape was limned with menace in every line. Beside it was a small pedestal with an array of arcane tools and a black vessel like a wine decanter, small and nested reverentially in a place made for it. The door closed behind her and Sibylla turned, saw the guards there inside, standing arrayed against the wall. Their presence in the small room was too much, too close and intimate. She turned back and saw the thing for what it was: a kind of saltire, such as criminals were bound to for their torture.
Her courage left her then, and she backed away, feeling her mouth go slack and her fingers numb with more than cold. Narcissa made an impatient face and motioned to the guards. Sibylla gasped when two of them seized her arms and lifted her off her feet. The fur fell from her and left her naked, the sudden cold all over like a blow. She gasped again and then clamped her teeth together with the determination to not scream.
She did scream when they pressed her into the cold metal frame, facedown so her head hung between the upthrust arms. The cold iron burned against her chest and her belly and she fought them, unable to even make them work to hold her, so much greater was their strength. They forced her arms up into channels made for them and held her there. The other two guards came and took her ankles, held her there spread and exposed, shivering under the cold and under their unseen stares.
Narcissa trailed a cool hand down her back and she flinched, biting her lip to keep from losing all control. The white woman came around before her, tipped her chin up with one strong finger. "Do not shame yourself, girl. You are a child of a royal line, and that is why you are not bound, but only held. It is expected you will comport yourself with dignity." Very gentle, she gathered Sibylla's hair and draped it over to one side, so her back and neck were shiveringly exposed.
"It is a great honor I do you," Narcissa said, pacing slowly around. She lifted the small flask from its place and kissed it reverently. "So few are treated thus, so few deserving," she murmured. her hand lashed out and caught Sibylla's throat, held her immobile. "Do not cause me to regret that I have been kind."
Sibylla drew in a shuddering breath, then let it out. Whatever came, she would remember who she was. Narcissa released her and she held her head up, tried to be still as the woman busied herself with things Sibylla could not see past the fall of her own hair. Then a hand forced her head down and she felt something sharp dig into the back of her neck.
It was curious, at first, a small jab, then another, and then an actual warmth bloomed in her skin. She bit her lip as there was another jab, and then another, more painful. The warmth grew to a heat, and then a burning. She hissed through her teeth as she felt trails of it spread through her skin and sink into her flesh. Narcissa's cool hand snaked around and held her stead as she stippled something unseen against her neck, jabbing here and here, and then here. The sensations ceased to be distinct, grew into a duller yet deeper pain, still small.
The heat spread through her skin, and she shivered though she tried not to. Trails of it crept through her flesh like slow-moving fingers. It was a heat that grew and yet did not sear, not yet. She felt something different trail down the side of her neck and Narcissa breathed low, dabbed at it with an unseen cloth and Sibylla realized she was bleeding.
"What are you doing?" she said, managing only a whisper, cold in the pit of her belly.
"You belong to the master now," Narcissa said softly, jabbing. "You must be marked as his." Another keen stab and Sibylla drew a sharp breath through her teeth. Narcissa laughed slightly, not warm. "Does that hurt?"
Sibylla realized they were marking her. That was the small jabs and the slow burning. She was being tattooed like them. "Only a little," she said, holding her voice under tight control.
Narcissa laughed again. "That will change," she said. She continued her work, tireless and precise. Sibylla gasped as the heat seemed to burn down through her body, spreading over her back, down her legs and creeping up her arms. She shuddered, biting her lips. The guard holding her right hand shifted his grip and curled his fingers around her hand, let her grip him as tight as she wished. She wanted to look up at him and could not. Something was coming, slow and deathly, and he knew it.
I have a big ol' thing for forced tattooing, branding, marking of any kind, what-have-you, so this chapter really did it for me. Sargon points out that this book contains more erotic elements than most of the others had -- he's a fan of straight-up fucking, but this story is different in pretty much every way, so it builds slower, moves slower.
I am a giant kinky perv, so I am loving the shit out of it. I don't get enough kink. We do a little -- Witches' Mark was loaded with it (you're welcome) -- but it's not our thing. This is hitting a lot of the really good buttons for me. And maybe the next excerpt he posts will be one of the ones from Garath's point of view, hint hint, because not all of this is femsub. AHEM.
Anyway, we'd be delighted if you'd head on over to campaign home and help out, or spread the word if you like. I'd like to hit 50% by Thursday!
X-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment count: