Love Taps: An Anthology of Short, Erotic Tales

By Shawna Hunter

Welcome to Love Taps, an anthology of salacious shorts from the pervy mind of Shawna Hunter. What awaits within these pages?

Friends with naughty secrets, lonely witches, love doll seductions, spaceship stowaways, bimbofication experiments and so much more! Let your imagination and libido run wild as you explore this dangerous

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
• Release date: Jun 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645335054

Book preview

Copyright

Love Taps is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

LOVE TAPS: A NOVEL

Copyright © 2020 by Shawna Hunter

All rights reserved.

Editing by KP Editing

Cover Design by KP Designs

- www.kpdesignshop.com

Published by Kingston Publishing Company

- www.kingstonpublishing.com

The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

1

A Visit in the Night

2

A Witch’s Consort

3

All Dolled Up

4

Claimed by the Werewolf

5

For the Sake of the Mission

6

Hocus Poke-Us

7

Lovers and Revelations

8

My Assistant

9

The Birthday Girl

10

The Cleaning Lady

11

The Time That Didn’t Happen

12

Unnecessary Surgery

13

What’s Gotten into You?

14

Alone in the Void

About the Author

About the Publisher

1

A Visit in the Night

Her back arched as the breeze moved over her. Where had this feeling come from, this need? She was no stranger to a little late-night fun with her naughty fingers, but this? If one were to compare it to thirst then she was dying of dehydration. She didn't just want company, she needed it. No digit or toy could suffice.

Her heated mind was too far gone to question how the window had opened. Was he really there or had she simply slipped so deeply into fantasy that her senses registered an imagined touch? Did it matter? His pale skin was cool as his hands moved across her body, tugging the sheets aside and exposing her writhing need. She thought to kick, as his lips moved towards her toes, but she knew it would do no good.

His kiss sent an electric thrill racing up her legs and he followed it, slowly, letting the need build until it put her very sanity at risk. When he moved, finally, to bring his lips where she needed him, she cried out, No! Bring your tongue to mine. I need something harder there.

He complied wordlessly, soundlessly. His lips met hers in a deep, passionate embrace as his body pressed into hers. Had he always been naked or had he undressed as he was kissing her? She had no semblance of reason left. The events occurred in a dream-like haze. All she knew was that she was gorging herself on his passion and the pleasure it brought. The tingle, the spark, the shock of pain. It was all a blur in their lovemaking.

When the sun rose she blinked. Her strange lover was gone and only the strange marks on her neck were left as proof that he had ever been there. She felt tired, drained and she knew that she would miss work for sleep. Sleep until the sun retreated and he would come again...for another taste.

2

A Witch’s Consort

The friends we meet in our youth can be a strange bunch. One can never predict the people they will become and thus can never know the sort they may one day associate with. This wisdom I acquired when a black rider arrived at my small farm one winter's night. His stallion's breath was like black smoke and his features were shrouded by a midnight cloak. This hid all but the near skeletal hand that extended towards me bearing a scroll. The parchment was fresh, not yellowed or cracked as it seemed it should be in his hands, and the words it bore were easy to read. Farmers are not known for their skill with letters but I was a lucky sort who'd had a learned friend. That friend had taught me to read in exchange for my imparting my own superior knowledge of fishing. As two of only a handful of boys in our small village, we'd been very close but as the years went on he was pulled away by the army and I settled into life on my family's small plot. It was by this friend that the strange rider had been sent. It read:

Dearest David,

Too long have I gone without your company my dear fellow, but word has never been far from my ears as to your status. I know that you are without a wife or child and that your farm is struggling. My condolences. My own fortunes have tended in a far more positive direction and I now command a mighty host. We are camped this winter at the Black Citadel not far from our old village. I know the rumors, fear not, and can assure you that they will not be true...for you. I cannot bare the thought of you sitting cold and alone in the dark night while I enjoy the warmth of my hearth. I beseech you, join me at the citadel as my honored guest. No harm will come to you there and we can share the stories of our lives since we parted ways. Fear not the rider. He will deliver you safely to me when you accept my invitation.

Your friend, S.

My hands shook as I read the words and regarded the strange rider who loomed over me. There was no mention of what refusing this invitation would cost, but from the cruel glint in what I assumed were eyes beneath the hood, I knew it would not be pleasant. Still, refusal crossed my mind. News had spread far and wide of the Black Citadel being reopened by a warlord of terrible might. His army of nightmare creatures had been sweeping the land and subjugating all those who did not die before their advance. Word spoke of its commander, a towering figure in armor so black that it seemed to swallow light. With a witch at his side he'd outmaneuvered even the craftiest of adversaries and now, even the high tower trembled at the thought of his invasion. Could it be that this was my learned friend? He had been a large boy and much delighted in dark tales but could he have risen so high and fallen so far?

Come, the rider's voice hissed like a foul wind and my body shivered in fear. His hand extended, again, to lift me onto his horse and I thought to run but where could I go? The beast would trample me to dust before I could so much as reach the door of my home and that door would prove no protection, even if I made it. Reluctantly I accepted the ice cold hand and was pulled onto the black stallion. The creature took off into the night with preternatural speed the moment I was mounted. The citadel, 2 days ride for any Earthly beast, was in sight before the sun began to rise. I wondered, seeing it growing closer, if I’d ever see light again.

The rider pushed the beast faster as the rays of the sun appeared on the horizon. He moved as if he feared the simple rays of light. I wondered at the cause of his fear but, as we crossed the threshold, a strange black cloud obscured the sky. It was as though the walls of the fortress marked an area of eternal night and torches were needed to light the grounds even as the sun rose into view. Seeing this, my wonder at the rider’s haste was forgotten. The horrors waiting in that darkness made such minor curiosities entirely irrelevant.

Would that I could have used those torches to burn out my own eyes. For what I beheld as we passed through the gate will haunt my soul nigh unto eternity. Holy Knights from sacred orders butchered in their armor. Sacred priestesses dishonored and left to rot in cages. Crucified victims whose crimes could never have warranted so cruel a fate. Some had not yet been granted the mercy of death. The smell burned my nose and the sights so sickened me that I risked flight but my companion would not allow it.

Come, it hissed again, or share their fate.

The inner gate was guarded by dark armored beings far too large to be human men. Ogres or Orcs perhaps? I hadn't the knowledge to say. Whatever they were, they smelled like befouled pigs and their breath came in deep grunts as they allowed us passage. The rider sank into the shadows just within the gate and vanished from my sight. I breathed a sigh of relief to be free of it but I would not be left to wander. From the torch lit halls appeared two servant women in flowing black gowns. They seemed to glide down the corridor, their outfits revealing far more than modesty should have allowed. They looked, to my untrained eyes, like the sacred priestesses but for their obvious lack of morality. Were these some dark answers to the priestesses? Some corrupted version of their holy virtue? The two women giggled as my eyes accepted the invitation of their scant clothing and allowed my gaze to wander before they spoke. When they did it was in haunting unison, one finishing the other's sentences as if they were of one mind.

Follow us, spoke the curly haired vixen on the left.

Honored guest, spoke the straight-haired beauty on the right.

The great lord, spoke the left.

Is waiting to greet you, spoke the right.

Each took one of my hands and led me forward through the halls of the citadel. In my darkest dreams, I could not have imagined such a place as this. The passages sang with echoed moans of pleasure and cries of pain. The very air was thick with the musk of ancient tombs and modern carnal delights. My guides would not