In Verasheyan, Reshayn, a beautiful hermaphroditic alien, has been captured by the police who want information from him… her… it… (the novel actually uses the pronoun ke) about his… her… its… boss, a rich crime-lord. Unsure of how to get the information, the police captain, Blaie, hands the alien over to a BDSM expert named Master Zane. But Zane’s assistant, Nell, falls for Reshayn.
Along with the erotica and the BDSM techniques, there’s some interesting background on Reshayn's alien culture and Nell's psychology. In fact, the novel is as much character-study as it is erotic-adventure story, getting deeply inside the heads of the four characters. Altogether, it's a fast, hot, thought-provoking read. Enjoy this excerpt.
You can purchase Verasheyan from the Phaze website or from your favourite e-book store.
**********Zane poked the touch-pad again, and the scene shifted to the inside of another room, this one designed to resemble a classic medieval dungeon. In its center a naked young man, also gagged, lay on his belly across a tall sturdy stool. His arms and legs were artfully bound to its legs, and his visible erection swung free under the edge of the seat. An athletic woman dressed in leather harness, a classic cat-o-nine-tails hanging at her belt, was slowly, lovingly, pressing on the end of a studded vibrator that had more than half disappeared between the ‘victim’s’ buttocks. The man was jigging frantically on the stool, escaping nothing, and his eyes were wide. The sound was off, but he was obviously screaming.
Blair went pale as he watched, but didn’t pull his eyes away from the screen.
“Let’s have a closer look, shall we?” Master Zane manipulated the touch-plate again. “This is the interior.”
The screen promptly showed a colorized version of a fluoroscope view, a close-up of the stretched rectum with the solid-dark implement crawling through it slowly. The whole scene bounced and jiggled, and a light-red area under the vibrator changed color, growing brighter.
“That’s the nerve center,” Zane said, pointing. “And, as you can see, it is definitely being stimulated. Mistress Anne will have to proceed carefully to keep the subject from climaxing before maximum stimulation is achieved.”
“M-maximum…?” Blair mumbled, unable to pull his gaze away.
“Sensory overload. The breaking-point. The idea is to keep the subject hovering there, and in an orgasmic or near-orgasmic state, for as long as possible.”
Blair said nothing, but Zane noticed that he bit his lip.
“Simple pain is not sufficient,” Master Zane said, working the touch-pad, “To reach the particular kind of sensory overload we want. Simple brute pain will destroy tissue, and nerve sensitivity with it. It will cause the subject to faint, or at most to promise anything for relief – but will leave the mind still intact enough to think of believable lies or some other form of resistance. No, for the sort of complete surrender we want, the pain must be mixed with irresistible pleasure. Look.”
He pointed to the screen, which now showed a plain room in which stood two tall, sturdy, upright posts. Between them, spread-eagled by wrist and ankle cuffs clipped to rings on the posts, stood a young man – naked, except for a blindfold. A muscular middle-aged man dressed in black was lashing at his back, buttocks and thighs with a slender-tailed multiple-thonged whip. The younger man’s back already sported multiple pink stripes where the lashes had struck.
Blair leaned closer, peering intently at the screen.
“Those tails are narrow thongs of moderately-soft leather,” Zane explained. “A blow with them will sting noticeably, the stinging sensation will soon change to an intense itching that lasts for several minutes, and of course the blow will bring blood to the surface of the skin, as you can see.”
“…Uhuh…” said Blair, staring.
“Now, when you bring blood to the surface of the skin, you make it more sensitive. This can be— Ah, there. See what he’s doing.”
The man had tossed the whip down, somewhere off-camera, and had picked up a long fluffy feather. Carefully as an artist drawing a sketch, he drew the tip of the feather down the youth’s back, then across his buttocks, and then jiggled it lightly over the backs of his thighs.
The effect on the young man was remarkable. He stood rigid at first, then began to squirm, then writhed furiously.
“Tickling!” Blair gulped. “He’s tickling him!”
“No ordinary tickling, with his skin that sensitive.” Master Zane reached for the touch-pad again. “Now let’s look at the biochemical factors...”