3 Free Short Story Chapters: Raj by Neale Sourna (soft romantic erotica)

Raj

by

Neale Sourna

A great Indian lady chooses a British Raj officer from the crowd for her amusement; but discovers her choice may bring her more than she expected.

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The tiresome British have been here for some time and find our ceremonies "fascinating" in a "quaint manner"; believing we are their British India. They do love parades in pretty clothes. And that is when I saw him, standing among the crowd of the faithful with two other "redcoat" officers kept back behind my official guard, as I entered for my official duties.

Our gazes locking upon the other caused a feeling as palpable as one's skin in an electrical storm.

Upon my exiting the temple, he was still there, just beyond the iron gates, separating us from them.

I spoke to my man and kept on, and the Britisher was collected and brought the secret way to my private apartments.

He was stripped—a fine figure from my hidden vantage—as he was washed and redressed in silks and finest linen, with only a few protests of good-natured curiosity from him, but no excessive, disrespectful attitude of superiority, or entitlement, so often rampant in one of his nation and race.

"What is your name, sir?"

He was startled by my appearance, and his eyes bulged, so did his linen trousers, when he beheld me in my simple gown, cut low between my generous breasts. He appeared unable to speak, or think.

"Sir. Your personal name, nor more."

"Sutton Palm—. Sutton. Ma'am." Hm. Very respectful, and attractive.

"Tell me what you thought, and felt, as your gaze first met mine. Exactly." He blushed, rather terribly.

"It wouldn't be proper, ma'am. Great Lady."

"Tell me, or I'll send you away, this instant." A look of distress distorted his fine, honest features. "Exactly, sir. Now." His gaze met mine in challenge, and then fell away.

"Nothing. My mind blanked, but I-I felt as one when caught in an electrical storm which makes the hairs upon one's body stand." Ah. Good answer.

* * * *

I took him by the hand and led him to a soft bed of pillows, and we reclined together...http://stories.neale-sourna.com/Raj.html

Becca Comes Ashore, Part 5 by Neale Sourna

Becca Comes Ashore,
Part 5

by Neale Sourna

Donegal Bay, Ireland, 1680s

Despite his carrot red hair, she hadn't seen him, but he'd seen her and recognized her, and had followed, until the wily-eyed Irishman had noticed him, and so he'd slunk from direct sight, letting her go on.

She was alone with a man not her kinsman and most assuredly not her noble, poor husband. He amended that thought to "her noble husband," for to call the fearsome earl "poor" by mistake to his face or in any way it might return to him could prove disastrous. But, he had valuable information, now, and directly sent it by his most trusted and fleet messenger, to the earl—the current whereabouts of his adulterous new countess.

* * * *

Becca laughed and Aidan's gaze pulled back from the surrounding market crowd, to watch her do so, as she watched the cabin boy and his rat terrier run about the cursing vendors like mad to see so many new and interesting things in this Irish bay port. Aidan's gaze captured hers.

"Laughing at me, sir?"

"No. But you're laughing at the boy."

"He likes it when I notice him, although I make him quite nervous. Why is that?"http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-05.html rest of short story / chapter novel excerpt

Becca Gets Her Sea Legs, Part 3 by Neale Sourna

Atlantic Ocean, Ireland; 1680s

"It's not fair," Becca moaned between gulps, of drinking a watered wine concoction, and promptly vomited, again. Aidan wiped her face, and then she fell back into his bunk, and watched as his hammock, which, though pulled to one side, swayed with the rocking of his ship. Damnable pirate. This new world of his would not be still.

"Utterly not fair."

"Your new husband, who you jilted your wedding night, pretending to be sick, so you'd not have to accommodate him, as per your full wifely duties, and then dashing away to me and sea, I think he'd say it was your just desserts, skittish girline."

"I doubt he'd say 'skittish,' perhaps something starting with an 's' and 'l.' And don't say 'desser‑'." And she hastily draped herself over the edge, and nothing came. A wholly unattractive way to spend one's time with one's new lover.

"More?" He proffered the drink and she shook her disheveled head and groaned with pathetic intensity, as he....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-03.html [short story chapter]