Miranda's Tempest: Three Classic Tales with a Kinky Twist

By Tilly Hunter

Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Grimm’s Hansel and Gretel and Homer’s The Odyssey get a kinky makeover in this collection full of dominance and submission, bondage and beatings. Miranda loves to submit to her forbidden lover, Caliban, but she wields a power of her own and together she and Caliban turn the bedraggled prince Ferdinand into their plaything. Young lovers Hansel and Gretel are lured to the witch’s house, where Hansel finds himself chained and caged ready to be used in the coven’s midsummer ritual, but Gretel takes on the witch at her own game. Penelope has survived the long years of her husband Odysseus’ travels with the help of her 12 beloved handmaidens, but one of the 108 suitors who vie for her hand in marriage proves his true devotion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: House of Erotica
• Release date: Jan 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781782345244

Book preview

1988.

Miranda’s Tempest

Miranda looked down over the island from a ledge in front of her favourite cave. She saw the results of her father’s storm played out in miniature. Tiny figures dragged themselves ashore far below, spluttering and dripping. The air shimmered strangely as Aerial, a sprite under her father’s command, brought his grand plot to fruition. Despite the roaring tempest that had whipped the sea into foaming mountains, none had perished. The nobles of Milan and Naples were brought bedraggled but safe to the island; their vessel now lay in a sheltered harbour out of sight, its crew in an enchanted sleep.

Prospero, usurped Duke of Milan, had brought his enemies to their knees and thought the reclamation of his title from his power-hungry brother within his grasp. He hadn’t reckoned on his daughter. Exiled with him on this barren isle from the age of three, bored half to death at his lectures born of bitterness and self-pity and now, a grown woman, forced to meet her swarthy lover in secret after Prospero condemned their union, Miranda had her own plans.

‘It’s nearly time,’ she called to Caliban. She turned to look at where he reclined, naked, in the shelter of the cave. ‘I can’t wait until we can be together without hiding. I can hardly believe it will truly happen.’

‘It will happen, my sweet,’ he told her. ‘You will make it happen. You have power far beyond that wielded by your father.’ It was true. Miranda had secretly mastered the magic of his books and allied it to the deep earth lore Caliban’s witch mother Sycorax had instructed him in before she died in exile on the island. ‘My mother taught me everything she knew,’ he said, ‘but it is you who has taken that knowledge and made it your own.’ He beckoned her into the cave.

Miranda went to her lover, slipping her loose shift from her body as she walked. His gentlest coaxing commanded her, as always. He patted the cool earth beside him and she lowered herself into his arms. She had seen only two men in her entire life until this day, which brought the finest gentlemen of Italy into her domain.

And she herself was the only woman she had known, beyond the vaguest memories of her nursemaids. She recalled the horror she had experienced at her maturing body. The physical debilitation her swelling breasts had brought until she learned to refashion her rough garments to support them. The mortal fear on the day her most intimate parts flowed with blood. Her father had not warned her. He knew little of women and their bodies, preferring books to people.

It had been Caliban who had explained, quietly and tenderly, what was happening to her, long before their friendship had bloomed into passion. Even so, her father had condemned him to slavery for daring to converse with the girl alone. Miranda pitied her mother, dead within hours of the birth of her first child having never known the passionate embrace of a real man.

‘My Caliban,’ she sighed, her lips against the soft brown skin of his chest. ‘I love you with all my being.’

‘I know, little one,’ he said, cupping her jaw in his broad fingers. ‘You are mine. Body, heart and spirit. And I promise to cherish each one.’ He shifted his weight to lean over her, cradling her head in one arm. He kissed his way up her jawline, then down her neck to her collarbone, murmuring, ‘Mine, mine, mine.’ Miranda squirmed at the feather-light tickle of his lips, but he placed a hand on her ribcage, beneath her breasts, and held her in place.

‘Oh Caliban, my master. I don’t know what I’d do without you to keep me grounded. The forces within me rip me apart, but you make me whole again. You pin me to the earth and bind my floating soul back within its fleshy confines.’

Caliban took her wrists and pinned each one to the gritty floor beside her head. She felt his stiff manhood brush her legs as he moved on top of her. She recalled her sheer wonderment at her first sight