Thursday, 24 October 2013

The Alchemist's Apprentice

Auren's fear vanished at once as she realised what had happened. She was not a cat, but she wasn’t much larger than one. And she was getting even smaller by the second.
       Valtiori towered above her, godlike in his sudden new stature. He was smiling. She clutched at the fabric of her pooling dress, trying to cover herself. But the fabric was too heavy to lift. Her underthings had slipped away as well, too large to fit her tiny frame. She peered up at her master, feeling more helpless and at his mercy than ever before. She pressed her legs together, sending a hot little pulse through her sex.
       Valtiori crouched down and held out his hand. She struggled free of the pile of clothing and climbed into his palm, trying in vain to shield her nakedness. She wrapped her arms around his thumb as he lifted her up off the floor. Her stomach swooped at the dizzying sensation. He set her on the table and stood back to admire her.
       ‘Put your hands at your sides,’ he said. ‘Don’t try to cover yourself.’
       A hot blush burned her face and she averted her eyes. But she did as she was told, forcing her trembling arms down by her sides. She felt her nipples stiffen in the open air, as though tightening under his scrutiny. It was all she could do to stand there, tiny and helpless and exposed, as he peered down at her as he might a captured butterfly.
      He picked up a magnifying glass and held it above her. It was the size of a cartwheel. She cowered for a moment before he sharply told her to be still. Then, in a cool and dispassionate tone he instructed her to turn this way and that, to raise her arms and lower them again, to arch her back and bend in different postures.
       She was exactly the same as she had been before, only much, much smaller. And utterly helpless.
       Valtiori laid the glass aside and made some notation in his journal. She watched, mesmerised, as the feathery tail of the quill waved in the air high above her, like a tree in the breeze. He caught her fascinated gaze and a cryptic smile spread across his features. Then he lowered the feather to her and brushed it across her naked skin.

 from "The Alchemist's Apprentice" by Rose de Fer

Available in Paranormal Erotica

Thursday, 26 September 2013

Hitting the Right Notes

Lily straightens her back and lifts her hands, arranging them on the keys once more, stretching her fingers to reach what must be a difficult chord. This time it sounds more like music and I can tell she feels a little more confident. She finds her way into the piece and I listen as she plays. It’s soft and sweet, just like her.
       Mr Blackshaw, however, is unimpressed. He raps Lily smartly across the knuckles with his ruler. I gasp in concert with her and cover my mouth lest my own noise attract his displeasure. Fortunately, it all seems reserved for his pupil, who cowers beside him like a flower withering in a storm. Wisps of hair have come loose from her lacy mob cap and she smoothes them away from her face before making another attempt at the piece. But it’s no use. She’s lost the trick of it.

       ‘Appalling,’ Mr Blackshaw says. The room seems full of the stony silence that follows. Lily looks almost relieved when he tells her sharply to begin again.

       By this time her hands are trembling so much she can barely place her fingers on the right keys. She takes a deep shuddering breath but before she can start to play Mr Blackshaw finds fault with her posture. She lowers her head submissively as he chastises her.

       ‘I’m trying to make something of you, young lady. Or don’t you want to be more than just a chambermaid?’
       ‘I do, sir, it’s just ––’

       ‘I like to instill a sense of culture in my servants, to smooth out the rough edges. But it seems like I’m wasting my time with you.’

       Lily whimpers as though struck. ‘But sir,’ she protests, ‘I have practised, honest!’
       ‘Stand up.’
       ‘You heard me, Lily. Stand up.’
       He taps the cushioned piano bench with his ruler and she gives him one final beseeching look before obeying the unspoken command. I press my legs together as she assumes the familiar position, gently placing first one knee and then the other on the piano bench. She kneels there like a penitent, her hands resting lightly on the keys as Mr Blackshaw raises her black uniform skirt and tucks it into the strings of her pinafore. 

       Her undergarments barely conceal her as it is but Mr Blackshaw wants her fully exposed. He unties the drawstring that fastens her pantalets around her waist. They fall open like the petals of a flower, revealing her soft round bottom and the pink lips of her sex.

       ‘Now,’ he says coolly, ‘we’ll see if you can’t perform a little better now.’

from "Hitting the Right Notes" by Rose de Fer

Available in Lords, Ladies, Butlers and Maids  

Saturday, 31 August 2013

Creature Feature

photo by
In Betty's fantasy she was a feisty lady reporter hot on the trail of the missing scientist and determined to solve the mystery. Her search led her deep into the swamp, where one careless misstep sent her tumbling into the water of the infamous Black Lake. Where the Creature was watching, waiting. He rose up before her, water streaming over his sleek torso as he gathered her in his arms and dived with her through the inky depths. Betty held her breath until they reached the entrance to the cave and emerged into the air once more. The Creature carried her to the nest he’d made for her and sat her down, watching her intently.

She didn’t resist as he stripped her naked, slitting open her wet blouse and skirt with sharp claws. She trembled as he loomed over her, examining his property, exploring every inch of her soft human skin with his webbed fingers. He gently coaxed her legs apart and stroked her sex with that intoxicating mix of curiosity, tenderness and desire, his eyes keenly observing her responses. For although the disaster in his laboratory had transformed him physically, he was still a scientist beneath the scaly skin. And now she could be his experiment.

She peered into his eyes, seduced by their piercing gaze. Tentatively she reached up to stroke his sinewy chest. The cave glowed with phosphorous and she trailed her fingers over the sleek, gleaming muscles of his abdomen and down to his thighs, down to where his hard cock waited to fill her.

from "Creature Feature" by Rose de Fer

Available in Dressed to Impress: an Erotica Collection

Monday, 29 July 2013


Someone once asked me who I'd want to see play my characters. So here goes.

Since I imagined Lust Ever After as the erotic film Hammer never made, it's hard for me not to see actors from the 1960s/70s in the roles. (Although I do think Alan Rickman would make a splendidly sexy and evil Dr Frankenstein. That voice!)

'You know what they say about curious little pussycats, don’t you, Justine? I’ve never expressly forbidden you to come in here when I’m away – you certainly know where the spare key is kept – but I shouldn’t have thought it necessary. Good little chambermaids do not go sneaking around in their master’s private rooms.’

I can see a young Nastassja Kinski as the reanimated Justine . . .

Her long dark hair fell, wet and steaming, about her shoulders and she lifted her head as he unwound the last length of gauze. Her blue eyes gleamed like jewels in the gaslight as she peered around her without blinking. She was nothing like his first creation, that awkward creature that had stumbled and staggered in its first moments of life. The movement of her head was graceful and fluid, like the water in which she had floated for so long. She fixed him with a piercing, curious gaze and for a moment he was unnerved by the intensity of her stare. It was like being watched by a predator.

Flesh for Frankenstein-era Udo Kier as William . . .

Justine felt her breath catch as he moved closer to her. He stared into her eyes with a frankness that made her feel exposed, as though he could see straight into her mind.
‘I’ve been watching you,’ he said.
Her heart fluttered. Tracking was what he really meant. As though he were a hunter and she a rare animal to be captured and displayed.

For the lustful Daisy I envision Francoise Pascal from Jean Rollin's The Iron Rose . . .

Daisy was back in her oldest and most enduring fantasy. She had been captured, along with a bevy of other girls, and taken by ship to a foreign land. There she stood in a line with the others along a platform in a dusty market square. Men called out in a strange language and one by one each girl was led to the front of the platform and made to undress. Those who disobeyed were whipped.
When it was Daisy’s turn she went where she was led and her clothes were forcibly removed with no resistance from her. She stood there, naked in the heat of the unfamiliar sun, exposed to the eyes of all the men before her. The auctioneer made her turn this way and that and she trembled with fear as he displayed her to the crowd. Her eyes filled with tears of humiliation and yet she couldn’t help the fact that his attentions made her wet with desire.

And the nymphomaniacal sexy widow couldn't be anyone but Ingrid Pitt . . .

Frankenstein was again struck by her beauty. The years had been kind to her, and her wealthy husband’s untimely demise had been kinder still, for mourning truly became her. An alluring woman, her face bore few signs of her fortyish years and her black garments and crepe veil suited her surprisingly well. He supposed it was a bit perverse of him to find her widow’s weeds erotic but then, what was his entire practice if not institutionalised perversion? Most of his lady patients were innocent of what was really going on but Sylvia was a shrewd woman who knew a good thing when she found it. It had taken Frankenstein several ‘treatment sessions’ to realise that neither was fooling the other.

All excerpts © Rose de Fer

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

A Touch of Class, A Bit of Rough

photo by
       Emma blinked in surprise. ‘What, no foreplay?’
       ‘Not yet,’ Patrick said. He was the same age she was and had no authority over her, but he was so cocksure she always wound up deferring to him. Not that she would have had it any other way. She often imagined what it would be like if Patrick were in charge of the hotel, the things he could demand of his best front desk girl, the discipline he could administer when she screwed things up . . .
       ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, giving him a cheeky grin as she began unbuttoning her blouse.
       Patrick watched as she turned the act into a little striptease for him, wiggling her bottom as she shimmied out of her skirt, bending right over to unbuckle her Mary Janes and kick them off, raising her legs to slip off her hold-ups.
       When she was down to her white lace bra and knickers he placed his hands on her shoulders. Then he turned her around and bent her over so her hands were on the bed. A shiver went through her at the submissive posture and she trembled a little as he peeled her knickers down, exposing her bottom. She was still wearing the plug, of course. She wouldn’t have dared remove it without his permission.
       ‘Don’t worry, Em. We’ve got hours yet.’ He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, then filled his hands with her breasts and pulled her back against him. She sighed as she felt the bulge in his trousers pressing against her.
       She had always wanted to fuck in the Penhaligon Suite. She imagined Patrick using one of the swords to cut her dress away, slashing her knickers and pressing the cold blade up against her warm, willing cunt. The icy shock of it would only make her hotter. She smiled at the thought of replacing it above the fireplace, stained with her juices. 

       Patrick turned her around and stepped back to look at her. She chewed her lip as she watched his cock swell even more, threatening to burst free of his tight black trousers.

from "A Touch of Class, A Bit of Rough" by Rose de Fer

Available in Do Not Disturb: an Erotica Collection 

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

Lust Ever After - FREE!

Do you like Victorian erotica, paranormal romance, evil doctors and mad scientists? How about rough sex, bondage, steampunky sexual devices and old-school horror? Well, you're in luck!

This week my kinky Bride of Frankenstein novella is available FREE on Amazon! Quick - grab her before she escapes!

Monday, 1 July 2013

The Fruits of the Forest

photo by kind permission
Kirsty pinned me down in the grass, forcing her tongue inside my mouth. I resisted only a moment more before giving in. She tasted like apples, rich and heady and sweet. Intoxicating.
       The warm weight of her breasts against mine felt wonderful and I moaned as the kiss went on and on. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I’d never even imagined such a thing with her. With any girl, for that matter. My feelings for Kirsty had been alien and unfamiliar to me and something I felt I absolutely must keep hidden. I hadn’t even entertained the thought of what might happen if she found out about my silly little girl-crush. It had certainly never occurred to me that she might feel the same towards me.
       When she finally pulled away she closed her teeth gently on my lower lip. I had kept my eyes closed the entire time, lost in the moment. Now I was too embarrassed to open them. Afraid to look her in the eye, afraid to acknowledge that I had enjoyed the kiss, afraid to confront the possibility that she might be disappointed.
       ‘You taste like forbidden fruit,’ she said, and I could hear the cheeky grin in her voice. Her accent made everything sound irresistibly rude.
       ‘So do you,’ I managed in a hoarse whisper.
       My lips were tingling. I could still taste her. And I wanted to taste her again – everywhere. A hot blush burned my cheeks as I turned my head to press my lips into her palm. I kissed her fingers and tasted apples again.
       She placed her other hand on my chest and I arched my back, wanting her to go further. I licked the tips of her fingers and then I took them into my mouth one by one, sucking off all the juice. I rolled my hips in response to my mounting excitement and the sound of my skirt rustling against the grass made me think of something waking up. Something wild that had been unleashed and now couldn’t be stopped.

from "The Fruits of the Forest" by Rose de Fer

Available in Ladies Who Love: an Erotica Collection

from Mischief Books

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

The Portcullis

photo by kind permission

I hesitate for only a moment. Then, trembling, I sink to my knees on the ground and lower my head. There is the rustle of his footsteps in the grass as he approaches, then the jingle of chains. I lift my hair out of the way and wince at the chill of steel against my neck. He locks my heavy collar into place. Its weight is both intimidating and comforting. It makes me feel utterly powerless. While I wear it, I am truly a slave.
‘Raise your arms,’ he says.
I obey, keeping my eyes closed. He gently slips my dress off over my head and unhooks my bra. My nipples stiffen at their exposure to the night air and I feel my sense of submission deepen. My body can’t hide its arousal, a fact that makes me feel even more at Charles’s mercy.
He strokes my head and I nuzzle his leg like a puppy, pleading silently for him to spare me. I know he won’t. I also know I don’t really want him to. But it’s all part of the dance. A dance usually done in private, behind closed doors. But not this time. Not tonight.
‘Give me your wrists.’
Opening my eyes at last, I hold out my trembling hands and try to stay still as he fastens the cold metal shackles around my slender wrists. I might be a prisoner of the Inquisition or a captured princess sold into slavery in the Ottoman Empire. But no fantasy will save me from the reality of what’s about to happen.
Charles takes pity on me and kisses me, stroking my bare back and telling me what a good girl I am. The words always make me melt. They’re like a magic charm that gives me the courage not to beg my way out of it. Because, secretly, I want it as much as he does. My total surrender is the key to bliss –– for both of us.
He crouches beside me and slips my knickers down. I obediently lift one leg at a time so he can slip them off and he tucks them into his pocket with a smile. Then he locks another pair of shackles around my ankles. A short chain connects them so I can open my legs wide enough to walk but not run. Not that I would ever run.
He fastens a long chain to my collar and gently tugs me to follow him. The shackles are heavy but they don’t hinder me that much, at least not as long as I’m on all fours. Waves of heat and desire wash over me as he guides me towards the black iron portcullis.

from "The Portcullis" by Rose de Fer

Published by Mischief Books

Tuesday, 14 May 2013

More free erotica for your Kindle!

photo by kind permission
Want some free erotica? Well, the Mischief fairy is happy to oblige!

Right now on Amazon you can get Come Play With Me (featuring my ponyplay story "Sugar Lumps") and Sex and the Stranger (featuring my al fresco story "Moondance") absolutely FREE!

And while you're there, check out Forever Bound (featuring my bondage story "Ring My Bell"), currently holding the #1 spot in erotica anthologies. It's a special longer anthology and right now it's only 49p!

Wednesday, 1 May 2013

Free erotica for your Kindle!

Mischief Books are giving away some erotica titles FREE!

So head over to Amazon to grab your e-copies of Forever Bound: Stories of Seduction and Submission (featuring my story "Ring My Bell") and Brief Encounters: Tales of Fast Love (featuring my story "Sanctuary!")

The giveaway also includes titles by Kyoko Church, Justine Elyot, Lily Harlem and Felix Baron, so be sure to search around. You never know what else you'll find...

Thursday, 21 February 2013

Ring My Bell

photo by kind permission
‘We’re alone. I’ve locked us in.’
His words chill me as much as they reassure me. I am completely at his mercy and we’ll be undisturbed for however long he intends to play with me.
He takes hold of another rope and loops this one around my thigh, pulling it taut. The layered coils he winds around my leg create a wide band of support and I relax and watch him work. At one point he brushes the gusset of my knickers with the rope and I moan softly.
       When both legs are bound he takes hold of the ends of the ropes and begins to pull. And I give a startled little cry when I feel my feet lift off the stone floor. I gasp and kick my legs in surprise, losing a shoe in the process.
‘Be sill,’ he says chidingly.
I do as he says. He raises my legs just off the floor until I’m sitting in a sort of sling. The position draws my legs apart and if I try to push them together the bells chime softly above me.
Brian smiles at me and crosses to the table, where he picks up two coils of thinner rope. He unwinds them and moves around behind me. I feel him take hold of my foot. The rope rasps against my ankle and I tremble as I stare around me at the church. I can’t help imagining rows of stern-faced parishioners sitting in the pews, turning round to look at me. I might be some innocent peasant girl on trial for witchcraft, at the mercy of the villainous witchfinder who must restrain me to do his duty.
My sex throbs wildly as Brian knots the rope around my ankle and draws it back behind me, securing it to the rope around my thigh. Finally, with both my ankles secured, I realise I can’t close my legs at all.
I hang before him as though I’m kneeling in midair, my legs splayed, my crotch at the level of his chest. And all the while, the bells produce their muffled peal above us with every tiny movement I make. I wonder if anyone can hear it outside the church?

from "Ring my Bell" by Rose de Fer

Available in Forever Bound: Stories of Seduction and Submission

Published by Mischief Books

Monday, 21 January 2013


photo © Rose de Fer
It was a long steep climb up a narrow stone spiral staircase. As they climbed, Jake slipped his hand up under her dress, stroking her bottom and sending jolts of pleasure through her every time his fingers grazed her sex.
       Along the way she thought of the hunchback capturing the beautiful gypsy Esmeralda and spiriting her away to the top of the bell tower. What wicked, delicious things he might have done to her in unprintable versions of the story.
       At last they reached the Galerie des Chimère. As promised, the view was spectacular. A cage of wire mesh encircled the open gallery, as though to protect them from the fantastical creatures perched on the other side. One winged goblin looked bored, sitting with his elbows on the ledge, his head in his hands and his tongue sticking out. Others sat alert and eager, as though ready to leap from the tower.
       Kelly squealed with delight when she finally found the one from her postcard. He had a single horn and long bony arms with claws. His back was hunched as he stared down at the tourists below and she imagined his little fanged mouth was drooling with hunger. Or lust.
       Weren’t the creatures meant to represent sins? In that case this little guy was definitely the personification of hers. And no sooner had the thought crossed her mind then she felt Jake’s hand slide up under her skirt again, this time with more intent. A quick glance around reassured her that they were alone. The previous group had moved on and they had the narrow walkway to themselves. At least for the moment. She took hold of the mesh and bent forwards, arching her back.
       ‘Good girl,’ he said.
       He lifted her skirt up to her waist and she trembled as he slid his fingers into the elastic of her knickers. They slipped easily down her legs and she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation of being bare in such a prominent and public place. There could be CCTV cameras watching them right now for all she knew.
       Jake wedged his knee between her legs, forcing her to spread them. She obeyed instantly, holding her breath as she waited for the touch she’d been begging for all morning. But he was in no hurry.
       He slowly drew his fingers up her legs, making her shudder. Gooseflesh stood out across every inch of exposed flesh and she felt her sex moisten even more as he came nearer to the place that was desperate for his touch. 

from "Sanctuary!" by Rose de Fer

Available in Brief Encounters: Tales of Fast Love

Published by Mischief Books