Silent Shadows Come: Erotic Tales of Ninjas

By Jennifer Levine

Ninjas, or shinobi, are by definition mysterious and hard to define. Few historical accounts exist, and many are considered to be rooted in myth or legend. Some legends say that ninjas could fly, shapeshift, walk on water, or summon animals. Others say they could control the elements, perform magic, or become invisible. We do know that ninjas were historically spies, assassins, and saboteurs, trained to blend in using disguises and stealth, but beyond that... well, it's up to our imaginations to decide.

In "Lost Love," Hero Freyr takes us on a journey to the past, to a time when there were guarded palaces, virgin princesses, and duels between men to defend their honor. In a world of royalty and politics, it is only logical that a ninja or two would be lurking in the shadows--but when a ninja develops doubts about a mission, things get complicated.

Nina Parker shows us the cunning mind of the shinobi in "A Job To Be Done." A ninja knows that a single problem may have many solutions and that some obstacles can be overcome in ways that are... well, mutually beneficial. But what if a ninja underestimates just how distracting that solution may be?

In "Under the Moons, Across the Sea," Kaysee Renee Robichaud tackles the age-old conflict of the ninja versus the pirate. Nemeses by their very natures, a pirate and a ninja can never join forces, and instead must destroy one another or risk destroying the world if they ally. But pirates are notorious for not obeying the rules, and ninjas follow their own code of right and wrong...

Emily Moreton's "Pigeons and Police Officers" speeds us ahead to a more modern time, when ninjas are hunted by the police and magic is punishable by imprisonment. But a ninja still needs to pay the bills, and a job's a job, even if catching pigeons seems a little silly for someone with a ninja's highly specialized skillset. When the police force is hot on your trail, though, you'd better fly as only a ninja can.

And speaking of a ninja's rare skillset, good training is hard to come by. If a ninja faces off against another, equally talented ninja, it's only natural to want to get to know the competition. In "Disarmed" by Vinnie Tesla, protagonist Zuth does just that, getting to know his assailant a little more intimately, perhaps, than even he has bargained for.

Finally, in "Shadows and Silence," C.V. Madison brings us to an alternative, post-apocalyptic future in which governments have collapsed, a great war has passed, and countries have split into small independent provinces. The samurai have been disbanded, but the shinobi still operate in secret, working to eliminate problematic public figures and to create a better future. But ninjas have family, too, and if the new world order has no place for them, where should the ninja's loyalties lie?

Are ninjas still around? Do they possess the ability to fly, or to disappear? Or are they merely bedtime stories told to young children to keep them well behaved? We may never know the answers to these questions, but there is one thing we do know for sure: there is unquestionably an element of the erotic, the mysterious, the fantastical, in the idea of the ninja.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Circlet Press
• Release date: Feb 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781613901236

Book preview

Table of Contents

Introduction

Lost Love by Hero Freyr

A Job to be Done by Nina Parker

Under the Moons, Across the Sea by Kaysee Renee Robichaud

Pigeons and Police Officers by Emily Moreton

Disarmed by Vinnie Tesla

Shadows and Silence by C.V. Madison

Contributors

Introduction

Ninjas, or shinobi, are by definition mysterious and hard to define. Few historical accounts exist, and many are considered to be rooted in myth or legend. Some legends say that ninjas could fly, shapeshift, walk on water, or summon animals. Others say they could control the elements, perform magic, or become invisible. We do know that ninjas were historically spies, assassins, and saboteurs, trained to blend in using disguises and stealth, but beyond that... well, it's up to our imaginations to decide.

In Lost Love, Hero Freyr takes us on a journey to the past, to a time when there were guarded palaces, virgin princesses, and duels between men to defend their honor. In a world of royalty and politics, it is only logical that a ninja or two would be lurking in the shadows--but when a ninja develops doubts about a mission, things get complicated.

Nina Parker shows us the cunning mind of the shinobi in A Job to be Done. A ninja knows that a single problem may have many solutions and that some obstacles can be overcome in ways that are... well, mutually beneficial. But what if a ninja underestimates just how distracting that solution may be?

In Under the Moons, Across the Sea, Kaysee Renee Robichaud tackles the age-old conflict of the ninja versus the pirate. Nemeses by their very natures, a pirate and a ninja can never join forces, and instead must destroy one another or risk destroying the world if they ally. But pirates are notorious for not obeying the rules, and ninjas follow their own code of right and wrong....

Emily Moreton's Pigeons and Police Officers speeds us ahead to a more modern time, when ninjas are hunted by the police and magic is punishable by imprisonment. But a ninja still needs to pay the bills, and a job's a job, even if catching pigeons seems a little silly for someone with a ninja's highly specialized skillset. When the police force is hot on your trail, though, you'd better fly as only a ninja can.

And speaking of a ninja's rare skillset, good training is hard to come by. If a ninja faces off against another, equally talented ninja, it's only natural to want to get to know the competition. In Disarmed by Vinnie Tesla, protagonist Zuth does just that, getting to know his assailant a little more intimately, perhaps, than even he has bargained for.

Finally, in Shadows and Silence, C.V. Madison brings us to an alternative, post-apocalyptic future in which governments have collapsed, a great war has passed, and countries have split into small independent provinces. The samurai have been disbanded, but the shinobi still operate in secret, working to eliminate problematic public figures and to create a better future. But ninjas have family, too, and if the new world order has no place for them, where should the ninja's loyalties lie?

Are ninjas still around? Do they possess the ability to fly, or to disappear? Or are they merely bedtime stories told to young children to keep them well behaved? We may never know the answers to these questions, but there is one thing we do know for sure: there is unquestionably an element of the erotic, the mysterious, the fantastical, in the idea of the ninja.

Jennifer Levine

August 2014

Lost Love

by Hero Freyr

She knew I had recently killed. I often visited her these times, when the scent of assassination piqued her desire. This time, I came for other reasons too--the sad delivery I had to make on the far side of her courtyard. And the need to feel her fragile doe wild passion one last time before my actions would turn it caustic with blame.

Though she had never been with a man, Fei-la's sensuality was strung like the thin wire we used to cut off windpipes; a whisper of air could play a quiver along her length. Fei-la and I were alike in the way we made sensitivity a strength. I moved as boggy pond and oozed past her outer and inner guards without waking them--I had been Lin Kuei ninja so long, these simple evasions came easily. And there she was. Young and still as a deer that hears a far-off twig snap. Without looking, I could feel her flush. Fei-la had been princess so long, so ingrained with rituals of propriety, she propositioned me with only her scent and the chi of her body. To me, it was a clear language.

We stood breath close now. I felt her subtle opening, her arousal. And only because my sense of smell is strong could I detect an animal scent among the jasmine bath of her skin. She liked the danger of me. And I of her. Like two tigers, caged in our roles, this little breakout made us alive as a jungle.

I unwrapped her, ever so slowly loosening the silken bands of her undergarments one after another. She could be more still than motionless. Intimacy hung in the air for us to breathe, and each breath steeped us in each other's secrets.

Finally, the many skeins of silk I peeled away revealed naked skin. Unlike my taut skin pulled over toughened muscle, hers was flower-soft and jade-smooth. We had spent our lifetimes conditioning these textures, mine for lethal stealth, hers for emblematic, unassailable perfection. She was so perfect, the thought of betraying her nearly made me choke. I touched my fingertips to her cheek. Her eyes, subdued by training, moistened, and she smiled.

What Fei-la could not know was the mission I had been handed, even before the execution earlier that night. It was rare to have two orders of assassination at once. I had deliberately put off killing Li Shao-yu. As if, in delaying, Shao-yu might leave the palace and I could kill him beyond her family's walls. Even better, the order might be rescinded. Because I could not let Fei-la know, I had buried it deep beyond the black of no-mind, and the energy of keeping it there would make a tiny distraction in our lovemaking. I ran my fingers along her arms. Betraying her impassive face, Fei-la's skin responded, forming shy peaks wherever I touched. I doubted the male spouse who would finally break and bed her would reward her with sensitivity like mine. To him she would be a vessel, lacquered and polished for his seed.

I was in high perception, a ninja state cultivated for sensing danger or prey in the air, through a din of competing sensations and across miles of space. Her softness had power even over me, another woman, privy to the same mysteries. I remembered my training, the pain, exhaustion, and endurance of it. The lessons were about control: the body was a carrier, and controlling it offered the most true delivery of weapon. The teachers were merciless. Early friends dropped from our school like monkeys from trees. Older students had no friends. We competed against each other. We all had a bond in our pain and purpose, a bond that was instantaneous and deep as a sword cut. But it did not look like friendship. Now, we did not stay connected. We knew each other's whereabouts by inner means. And if one of us was assigned to kill another, we gave them fair warning so they could put their mind on the Fairy Mountains and get their affairs in order.

After tasting with my fingers the silk of her shoulders, the rise of her collarbones, the small beat of her throat, my fingers ran like eight rivers down Fei-la's chest to her breasts, like small puffs. I traced crescent moons back and forth across where the plumpness rose into nipples. My own breasts are flat as a man's, having been bound tightly from my tenth birthday. Would I have had this luxurious fleshiness? Had binding dissolved my breasts or pressed them inside my rib cage? Would they gradually emerge, like bread rising, if I stopped wearing the tight chest plates? In admiration I brushed Fei-la's breasts upward and let them fall over and over. As they bounced lightly, their pink crowns took the shape of dogberries, sun-perched, to be plucked by beaks. I liked to nip--but I kept strong roughness away from her. Instead, my fingers overran her surface like a swarm of Lin Kuei assassins moving into strike formation.

Perhaps her training had been as hard as mine. Like my breasts, her freedom of expression had been trained inward, so as to leave her outward body a blank sculpture, her every move a calligraphic stroke. She could use movement only to draw the emblem of her royal house. I had stripped from her all but the pale silk bands circling her waist, crossing her navel on their way down, slipping between her legs. I unraveled these as well until I'd removed the last silken shield against her thorough nakedness. I saw the tiny flutter pass through the muscles beneath her eyes just before I glanced down. I was uncovering the denuded outer petals of her precious lotus. Its thin cleft whispered invitation. Fei-la's aura was a warm hum of woman's need, and yet her face remained placid. I let her stand there with her long dark hair unpinned and fallen down her back, intimate, a princess, waiting nude, unwrapped like an offering. I looked her over for a long while, as if undecided. I was fully clothed with weapons under my belt and could merely have walked out. It was not a subtle humiliation. But she bore it. My command excited her. Finally, I reached down to her lotus, peeling back the petals, smelling the fragrance of ten thousand