When I set up the release date for my new paranormal erotic romance at Excessica, I deliberately chose the Friday closest to Walpurgisnacht. In case you’re not familiar with the tradition, in Germany and Scandinavia the night of April 30th is celebrated as the witches’ sabbath. On this night, it is said, witches and other unholy creatures gather on the mountaintops to kindle bonfires, cast spells and dance with the Devil until dawn. Various northern cultures mark the date with drunken revelry, promiscuous sex, lewd practical jokes, and huge fires to drive the witches away.
The Spring festival clearly predates Christianity, but has been grafted onto Saint Valpurga’s Day on May 1st. Walpurgisnacht (also called “Hexennacht” in Germany) has influenced many writers, artists and musicians. References appear in work by Goethe, Bram Stoker, Thomas Mann and Edward Albee. Mussorgsky’s “Night on Bald Mountain” is a symphonic impression of Hex Night (brought to life with still-stunning animation in the 1941 Disney classic Fantasia), while William Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan gave a slightly comic twist to the macabre legend in their operetta “Ruddigore”.
In any case, it seemed appropriate that I should publish my tale of diabolical temptation and paranormal debauchery around April 30th. There are no witches in my tale, but the Devil is very much in evidence.
Here’s a quick excerpt, illustrating my heroine’s fall.
He took both her hands, raised her from the bed, and drew her toward the chest of drawers. His fevered touch dispelled her chills. Her nipples swelled and her clit pulsed. He cupped her breasts for a moment, then slid his hands over her hips to capture her ass and pull her body against his. Under the loose robe, his erection raged. “Four months,” he murmured, licking along her throat with his searing tongue, “to choose pleasure over loneliness.”
“Oh...” she sighed, melting into his embrace. “Yes, Sir.”
He disengaged himself from her clinging body, all business once again. “So you will sign?”
“Yes—yes, of course, Sir. Then will you fuck me again? Please?”
“All in good time, Gwen.” He grasped her left wrist, turning her hand palm up. “First things first.”
The knife flashed in the gloom. “Ow! Hey…!” A scarlet line bloomed on her palm, stretching from the crook of her thumb to the base of her little finger.
Mister B tipped her hand over the bowl. “My apologies, but certain formalities are required.” A shudder rippled through her as she watched the bright red drops collect in a shallow puddle. “That should be sufficient, I believe,” he continued after a few minutes. He extracted a black silk handkerchief from some hidden pocket of his robe. “Clench your fist around this to stop the bleeding. Meanwhile…”
He dipped the quill end of the feather into the pool of gore, then guided her to the signature line on the final page of the contract. “Sign here. Your full, legal name, as on the first page.”
Wendy hesitated. The blood-tipped pen hovered over the paper. Somehow this didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.
“Don’t worry, sweet.” How could she resist him—his tempting voice in her ear—his warm breath on her neck—the heat he sent rippling through her limbs? “I’ll take care of you. Forever, Gwen.”
Forever. Every romance lover’s dream.
“Sign it, my lovely slave.” He held her wrist in one hand, while steadying the contract with the other. Still, she could swear she felt his fingers wriggling in her sex. “Sign, and receive your heart’s desire.”
~ ~ ~
In the spirit of Walpurgisnacht, I offer you Damned If You Do—BDSM erotic romance that just might tempt you to the dark side.
Get your copy here:
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0727RZ39B/
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0727RZ39B/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/damned-if-you-do-lisabet-sarai/1126292735?ean=2940157395711