Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
Greetings.
My
name
is
Lisabet
Sarai
and
I
write—um—everything.
Well,
that’s not strictly correct. Most of what I write concerns itself
in some way or another with eroticism. My supportive but somewhat
clueless brother keeps telling me I should write something “serious”,
meaning, I guess, literary fiction or maybe a mystery or something.
Something that doesn’t embarrass him. I suppose that I could do
that, but to be honest, I don’t want to.
Desire
is what interests me most, and that’s what I write about. Not sex
per se. Many of my books and stories do include a fair amount of
explicit sexual description. However, I’m far more concerned with
the mental and emotional states of my characters in the period
leading up to, as well as during (and after), any sexual encounters.
I’m always pushing the envelope in this regard, experimenting with
stories that are intensely erotic with little or no physical sex. In
Bodies
of Light,
for instance, I have a threesome that involves no bodies at all! My
short story “Stroke”, published in the anthology Please,
Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission,
features a dominant who is half-paralyzed and bed-ridden, yet still
manages to thrill his secretly submissive nurse. “Limbo”, in D&S
Duos Book 4,
recounts a BDSM scene played out in the astral plane by two lovers
who have left their physical bodies behind.
Your
mileage may vary, but for me personally, arousal begins in the mind.
My tag line, “Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac”,
describes my own sexuality as well as what I write.
So,
I write erotica, erotic romance, speculative erotica, erotic
thrillers, even erotic horror. Desire is the common message in all my
work. Aside from that, my books are all over the map. I’ve written
M/M erotic romance (Necessary
Madness),
science fiction (Bodies
of Light,
Quarantine),
vampire erotica and erotic romance (Fire
in the Blood),
shifter erotica (The
Eyes of Bast),
steampunk (Rajasthani
Moon),
lesbian erotica (The
Witches of Gloucester),
erotic thrillers (Bangkok Noir,
Exposure),
and tons of my first literary love, dominance and submission.
As
a result, I don’t really have a “brand”. I write what
challenges me and what turns me on. That’s a very long list.
Back
in 2013, I pushed my versatility to the limit when I published
Rajasthani Moon.
Above I referred to this book as steampunk, and it is. It is also a
BDSM, ménage, shape shifter, Bollywood, Rubenesque spy story—as
well as being a romance and one of the hottest things I’ve ever
written. It even has a bit of F/F interaction. About the only thing
missing is a homoerotic scene—and believe me, I was tempted.
I
think it’s a hugely entertaining book, though it hasn’t sold well
at all. Readers find it a bit bewildering, I guess. However, possibly
more than anything else I’ve published, it answers the question,
“What do you write?” The answer: desires of every persuasion.
Rajasthani
Moon by
Lisabet Sarai
Blurb
Neither
kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.
Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to the rugged, arid land of the Rajputs to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire's embrace. Instead, she's taken captive by a brigand who turns out to be the ruler's half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.
Cursed before birth by Amir's jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen's hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual – offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveals Rajasthan's amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to constraints of her life in England?
Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to the rugged, arid land of the Rajputs to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire's embrace. Instead, she's taken captive by a brigand who turns out to be the ruler's half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.
Cursed before birth by Amir's jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen's hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual – offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveals Rajasthan's amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to constraints of her life in England?
Excerpt
“How
are
you
feeling,
Miss
Harrowsmith?”
The
mockery
in
his
tone
was
not
enough
to
prevent
a
surge
of
renewed
lust,
which
she
struggled
to
suppress.
“I
presume
that’s
a
rhetorical
question,
Your
Highness,”
she
replied
after
a
moment.
God,
but
his
eyes
are
hypnotic!
“Given
that
I’m
stark
naked
and
trussed
up
like
a
turkey
about
to
be
roasted.”
“Not
entirely
rhetorical.”
The
handsome
Rajah
circled
around
to
inspect
her
from
the
rear.
“It
seems
to
me
that
you’re
distinctly
damp.”
With
a
chuckle,
he
swept
a
finger
down
the
length
of
her
cleft,
gathering
her
moisture.
Her
inner
muscles
clenched
as
sparks
struck
her
clit.
When
he
smeared
her
juices
across
her
bum,
she
wanted
to
sink
through
the
floor.
“Based
on
the
available
evidence,
I’d
say
that
being
bound
excites
you.”
“Nonsense—”
she
began.
Her
attempts
at
a
cool,
sarcastic
response
were
interrupted
by
the
ferocious
slap
he
landed
on
her
arse.
“Ow!
Oh…”
The
sting
from
his
spank
vanished,
overwhelmed
by
the
delicious
sensation
of
his
fingers
playing
in
her
cunny.
“Oh…ah…”
“And
it’s
clear
that,
like
many
of
your
compatriots,
you
find
corporal
punishment
arousing.”
“No—ow!
That’s
ridiculous…Ow!
Ah!
Ow!”
He
alternated
sharp
blows
to
her
buttocks
with
exquisite
explorations
of
her
cunt.
“Fondness
for
punishment
is
one
of
the
many
intriguing
cultural
phenomena
I
encountered
during
my
sojourn
in
your
dank
country.”
He
circled
her
back
hole
with
a
slick
finger,
then
probed
gently.
“I
suppose
that
being
exposed
to
those
notions
at
a
tender
age
might
have
shaped
my
own
predilections
in
that
regard.”
She
tightened
her
sphincter,
trying
to
keep
him
out,
without
success.
Guilty
pleasure
rushed
through
her
as
he
wiggled
his
digit
just
inside
the
entrance.
“Oh—you…uh—you
spent
time
in
England?
Ah…”
Though
he
pulled
out,
the
effects
of
his
lewd
touch
continued
to
ripple
through
her
body.
Her
sex
gaped,
hungry,
dripping
with
excitement
she
couldn’t
hide.
If
only
he’d
stop
chattering
and
simply
take
her…
“I
was
schooled
there.
Pratan
as
well.
My
father
believed
in
the
value
of
knowing
one’s
enemy.”
“I’m
not—
We’re
not—oh!—your
enemy,
Your
Highness.
Ow!”
The
Rajah
had
pinched
one
of
the
welts
raised
by
his
brother’s
whipping.
“Hmm.
We’ll
see.
Speaking
of
Pratan,
it
looks
as
though
he
did
quite
a
job
on
you
yesterday.
Perhaps
I
should
refrain
from
inflicting
any
further
damage
on
your
delectable
bottom
at
present.”
Cecily
bit
back
a
moan
of
disappointment.
She
hung
her
head,
appalled
by
her
reaction.
Her
hair
tumbled
around
her
face,
hiding
her
shame.
“Fear
not,
sweet
Cecily.
I
have
other
ideas
about
what
to
do
with
you—equally
nasty
and
painful,
I
guarantee.”
He
gave
both
her
butt
cheeks
a
solid
squeeze,
waking
echoes
of
her
previous
beatings,
then
moved
away.
She
heard
a
lock
click
on
some
chest
or
cabinet
behind
her.
He
must
be
seeking
some
new
instrument
of
punishment
or
humiliation.
She
shuddered,
from
fear
or
anticipation,
or
perhaps
both
at
once.
“Where
is
Pratan?”
she
ventured
as
the
noise
of
his
rummaging
continued.
At
the
moment,
she
would
have
felt
safer
in
the
company
of
the
bandit.
“He’s—um—indisposed
at
the
moment.
That
is
why
I
was
delayed.
Ah,
here
we
are!
Don’t
worry.
I
fully
intend
to
share
you
with
my
brother.”
Share?
Each
man
was
fearsome
in
his
own
right.
But
together…
She
pushed
the
thought
away.
Focus.
Be
strong.
“My
Lord,
may
I
leave?”
Heavens!
Cecily
had
completely
forgotten
that
Sarita
was
present,
watching
the
entire
scene.
Her
cheeks
burnt
anew.
“Oh,
I
don’t
know.
I
thought
that
perhaps
you’d
like
to
participate
in
our
little
games.”
“No,
sir—truly…”
Let
her
go,
Cecily
begged
silently.
Please
just
let
her
go.
“You
don’t
want
to
put
these
clamps
on
her
labia?
Or
work
this
wooden
phallus
into
her
rear
hole?”
This
was
almost
too
much
for
Cecily’s
all-too-vivid
imagination.
Her
swollen
clit
throbbed.
Her
sex
muscles
clenched
around
hungry
emptiness.
If
either
of
them
touches
me,
she
thought,
I’ll
explode.
“My
Lord,
please…”
Sarita
sounded
desperate.
“I
thought
I
might
make
Miss
Harrowsmith
lick
your
cunny.
Wouldn’t
you
like
that?”
Oh
my
God,
no!
And
yet
a
sidelong
glance
at
the
lovely
courtesan
almost
sent
Cecily
over
the
edge.
“I
am
your
obedient
servant,
sir…”
the
girl
began.
Amir
laughed
and
swept
Sarita
into
his
arms
once
more,
mollifying
her
with
an
energetic
kiss.
“Never
mind.
I
won’t
force
you
do
something
that
so
clearly
displeases
you.
Not
tonight,
at
least!”
“Thank
you,
my
Lord…”
Sarita
pressed
her
lips
to
the
back
of
his
hand
in
obvious
relief.
“I
am
very
grateful…”
“Go
then!
Off
to
the
women’s
quarters
with
you!”
He
swatted
her
diminutive
rear
on
her
way
out.
“I’ll
call
if
I
want
you.”
She
turned
upon
the
threshold
to
give
him
a
deep
bow.
“As
you
command,
my
Lord.
Thank
you
again.”
The
door
closed
behind
her.
“Thank
you,”
murmured
Cecily,
her
raging
heartbeat
starting
to
slow
down.
“You
don’t
find
my
Sarita
desirable?”Amir
faced
her,
drawing
back
the
curtain
of
her
hair
and
fixing
her
with
his
compelling
gaze.
“She’s
lovely
but…”
Cecily
was
uncertain
how
to
continue.
She
didn’t
want
to
offend
him
unnecessarily.
Her
future
depended
on
his
goodwill.
“But
she
doesn’t
seem
very
fond
of
you,
does
she?
Well,
who
could
blame
her?
All
she
wants
is
to
give
herself
to
me,
body
and
soul,
but
I’ve
chosen
you
as
my
companion
for
tonight
instead.”
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rajasthani-moon-lisabet-sarai/1115449469?ean=9781781843338
3 comments:
Congratulations on your long and impressive writing career. Keep up the good work!
Theo from The Gazillionaire and the Virgin will always have a special place in my, ahem, heart. But I loved this book! To many hot scenes to count! I read it while recovering from the flu, and believe me, it raised my temperature again, even though the flu had subsided! I love your imagination!
Thanks for your support, Larry & Fiona!
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