Everyone knows the story. A lovely lady is kidnapped from a sinking ship; a dashing pirate captain saves her, and, through a series of adventures, they become intertwined in a web of romance.
This is not one of those stories.
In Beneath the Jolly Roger, Blythe learns this the hard way as, surrounded by salty men and a saltier sea, she must truly sink or swim.
Aboard the Last Chance, the trials and temptations of a woman aboard grow only more dangerous as Blythe learns to hold her own with the bucaneer crew. She must navigate the narrows between Captain Nathan Wilde and his brother-in-arms, the boastswain Mercer Laisseur. Beyond those treacherous shoals lie Ingvar, the towering first mate; Avery, a sharpshooter who seems out of place aboard a ship; and Johnathon Thomas, master cannoneer who dislikes having a woman aboard.
As the Captain grows attached to their captive, the balance of power on the ship pitches sharply with no telling whether she’ll ever come true under the weight of this changing ballast.
This story is a work of erotic fiction, and bears TRIGGER WARNINGS for bondage, voodoo, non-consensual sex, edgeplay/knifeplay, erotic violence, and straightup battle violence.
The Nightmare Fuel Project really began several years ago, when I started having nightmares. Not that I’d never had nightmares before, mind you – but I’d never had them one on top of another, ceaselessly, all night and every night for days and sometimes weeks on end. It recurred the next year, and the year after that.
It happened regularly enough that I began to refer to the fall as Nightmare Season.
Then at the beginning of Summer 2011 Google opened the invite-only beta of Google+. I was invited, joined (as Bliss Morgan), and managed to meet some really great people, and witness them doing some interesting things. In September, with Nightmare Season looming, I decided to (and posted that I would) write a piece of short horror fiction every day in October, in the hopes that getting the demons out of my head and onto a page or screen where I could see them would help alleviate Nightmare Season somewhat.
People thought this was a fantastic idea.
People wanted to join in.
I welcomed anybody who wanted to participate in any capacity, and set it up that I would post an inspirational image each morning, and anybody so inclined had all day to write something and post it. I was the only one that she felt had to post something every day. I ran it from October 1 to October 31. I had folks who wanted to write, some who just wanted to read and comment, and several who wanted to provide photography or other images.
From that project, I ended up with many short fictions, which I pared down to these fine twenty. I hope that you enjoy the Nightmares.
Bits of Bliss contains nine pieces of erotic fiction, ranging from modern times in familiar settings, to long ago and far away, with several stopoffs at strange and unfamiliar lands along the way – and every one exploring hot sex and its connection to our essential humanity and understanding of the world, each other, and ourselves.
That’s right. Hot sex.
Heartscaping – F/F fic involving, of all things, plants. No, not garden vegetables!
Homecoming – M/? fic; home is where the heart is. Especially when you have a sentient house.
Hunting Hound – F/M fic; because this princess needs something more than the usual prince. Mild trigger warnings for (consensual) sexual violence.
The Spy Who… – F/M fic; a message comes in that needs to be revealed through a chemical reaction by the queen and her head spy, by unconventional means.
Everything But – F/M; Marriage can be truly transformative. Sometimes literally.
Fruit of Knowledge, Seed of Truth – F/M/?; a Snow White tale like you’ve never read it before.
Her Master’s Voice – M/F; what’s the dynamic when he’s in charge, and she’s a werewolf that could rip him apart?
Summer Nights – M/F; the man lurking through the summer parties at the lakehouses is not what he seems, and she’s not the usual type either. Of course they gravitate to one another behind the boathouse. Mild trigger warnings for (consensual) sexual violence.
Spaced – ?/F; Lost in space, losing heat. How else to feel alive?