Happy New Year and Man's World Excerpt!
I've had a great 2010, with new stories published, my first short story collection (*ahem* Darkness and Delight ....), and nearly half of a new novel written. My 2011 will start with the publication of Man's World, an erotic SF novel that I am hoping readers will enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing it. Man’s World will be available in eBook from Circlet on January 4th!!
So, with the seam of the years stretching until it breaks, I hope you like this excerpt. I'll have more to say about Man's World soon.
I hope 2010 treated you with respect, and I hope your 2011 is hot, sexy and filled with creamy joy!!
Happy New Year!!
Anglea Caperton
The woven green canopy above Stella blocked much of the sky, but through breaks in the trees and vines she navigated toward the enormous towers. To her surprise, as she neared the heart of Scion City the jungle grew thicker rather than thinner. She kept to the edge of a wide path where the foliage didn’t block quick progress and did her best to set her course toward the heart of the city. The trees stretched taller than she could crane her neck to see, and the thick bases sank into a rich, leaf-covered ground. Massive roots provided mini mazes and odd housing for animals and secrets. Vines and crawling large-leafed plants stretched upwards, sometimes screening large airy patches where lush light filtered through to feed the ground. The air in the jungle clung to her skin and pressed against her lungs, damp and hot and still. She paused in her flight and stared through a cut in the foliage to see the towers of the city. The skies among the spires buzzed and swarmed with little air cars and copters. As she moved on, she realized the path she followed was not a path but a road, crudely cut into the ground, overgrown and scarred. As she ran, she crossed three roads like the one she was on, some of them sporting fresh animal tracks. The men of Scion City seemed to prefer to fly.
The jungle itself grew wild and thick as any holo Stella had ever seen of old Earth or any of the green planets. The air hummed with insects, and the calls of what she hoped were benign birds rang and chattered incessantly. She saw the blue streaks of fast monkeys, the scuttle of lizards, and paths where larger animals traveled.
Drawing on a program that must have come from Vyra’s mirror, Bo melted into a soft leathery loin cloth, a bra trimmed in fuzzy fur, and a wispy net garment woven of synth-steel that kept bugs and sharp-edged leaves at bay. So protected, Stella followed another of the widening paths, keeping her course tending toward the towers.
Stella’s progress was suddenly arrested by a looming shape at the side of the path. At first she thought it might be one of the massive trees but, as she drew closer, Stella saw that there was no texture to the bark, no grain or shell-like tiles, and the true vertical span didn’t dip or turn from a perfect ninety degree angle. She stopped and listened, hearing still only the call of the birds and the occasional screech of an animal. Crouched, careful, she approached the massive root and saw it was made of metal. She stood close to the massive structure and craned her neck to try and see the top. Dizziness forced her to look away quickly. She walked carefully all around its immense base but saw no door. Guard tower perhaps?
She moved back onto the road and continued working her way toward the city. Twice she heard men near her and hid to watch little bands of the fugitive Fumblars pass by, desperate and a little crazy with bug bites and fear. She picked up a long, thin branch and cleared it of dead leaves and smaller outgrowths. She carefully broke the brittle wood over a rock, happy for the sharp point the break created. Confident, she pressed on until she had passed a dozen of the towers, finding a few old doors tightly locked. Some had cracks in the lichen-filled frames as though they had not opened in decades.
Stella brushed sweat from her forehead and dreamed of a shower. The buzzing insects seemed to surround her at times, then would disappear, as if they plotted new attack strategies with each new swarm. To Bo’s credit, Stella never felt a sting or bite.
“I owe you two hours at a ‘Luxmirror, Bo. First opportunity we get.” She looked up through the green canopy when light poured down to illuminate bright patches of ground. In one of those breaks, she realized that she had worked her way well into the city and that the enormous towers, some of them veined, others bulbous where they pierced the clouds, must surround her for miles; but the Scions didn’t bother with the ground. Far above she saw dark dots moving across the patches of blue. Not birds, Stella realized: ships and air scooters.
The sun fell in the sky and she had a sense of more movement around her, bigger movement, as though the night creatures, whatever they might be, had already begun to stir. Stella shivered and tried to think how she might sleep safely in such an awful place, but her thoughts scattered as she heard cries not far away. Women’s voices, and men’s.
Following the path, she paused at the edge of a clearing, in the deepening shadow of a tower made of quartz, the distant tip blushing high above her, red in the sunset. Five of the Fumblars stood at the center of the clearing, their hands raised in surrender. Surrounding them, Stella saw twenty or more women, dressed in skins and hides, their hair wild and tangled, or half-tamed with savage ornaments of hammered metal and bone. The women carried bladed weapons that gleamed even in the fading light.
The Fumblars were rounded up and bound. Stella hesitated to step out into the clearing but caution earned her nothing. The wild women saw her at once. Two of them approached her warily, eyeing her strange clothing, their weapons ready.
“Stay back,” she said, raising her sharp stick. One of the women, her hair colored a shocking red with some sort of jungle dye, laughed and effortlessly took the stick away from Stella. They handled her with rough ease and tied her hands together, forcing her to march between them, not far behind the captive Fumblars. The sky darkened to purple and the upper levels of the towers began to glow with inner light, windows shining like vertical columns of stars reaching for heaven. Airships far above moved like fireflies, and something huge and hungry cried not far away.
The jungle women brought the Fumblars and Stella into their village and Stella saw that the compound that housed them was the wall of a fallen tower, razed to its roots, jagged lines of steel and thick glass defining a perimeter that the women had filled with little structures made of scrap metal interwoven with jungle plants. A fire blazed at the center of the village and a line of drummers beat a rhythmic welcome as the hunters returned.
Stella instantly spotted the one who must surely be the women’s leader, a magnificent, raven-haired goddess. She was a full head taller than Stella, almost entirely nude, her breasts amazing, her curves womanly; but her bare arms and legs were corded with smooth muscle, the tight line of her stomach hard and toned above a patch of ebon leather that covered her pussy. She wore a necklace and a diadem of teeth the size of daggers. Her only other garment was a short cape made of sable fur, exactly the color of her cascading hair. Stella’s mouth turned desert dry and her breath refused to exit her lungs.
The goddess-chief sat on a throne of dark wood, something that must once have been an executive’s chair, reupholstered now with striped hide. Her long legs crossed casually as the party approached. The hunting party led the Fumblars to her and Stella, restrained some distance away, strained to hear what was said.
“The jungle is filled with them,” the crimson-haired one explained. “We will get the rest of them tomorrow.”
“Strip them,” the chief commanded, and the women complied, cutting away the Fumblar’s clothing with quick moves. The five men soon cowered naked before the chief’s scrutiny. Two of them, Stella had to admit, weren’t bad looking.
“You may take those two, Igra. Do what you wish with them.”
The chief’s voice was deep but wholly feminine. “Tie the others up. Tomorrow we will see if we can sell them. I want to see any more you find.”
Escorted by jungle women, the men vanished in two different directions. Igra, the crimson-haired one, led one of her captives by his prick. Stella’s captors pushed her forward so that she stood near enough to feel the blazing fire, though the heat had no advantage on the woman who sat in judgment of her.
The intensity of the gaze nearly blistered Stella’s skin.
“I am Makalla,” the chief said, smiling a little. “Who are you?”
“Stella Blue Darter,” she answered promptly. “A stranger here, but I can promise, a friend too.”
“I do not need friends,” the chief said, her smile widening. “I need dinner.”
Stella blinked, not at all comfortable with the way Makalla appraised her.
“First we fight, you and me. The loser will serve the winner.”
One of the jungle women untied Stella.
“Take off your pretty clothes,” one of the tribeswomen told her. Stella thought it best to remove the garments normally. She took the edge of the net covering and squeezed it, giving Bo a clue. She unfastened the netting and cast it aside, then removed her halter and, for the first time in a long time, enjoyed the ritual. Breasts and shoulders exposed, she stood proud in front of her captors.
Several of the women made noises of admiration. Makalla looked at her with open appraisal.
The moment the night kissed Stella’s bare skin, mosquitoes and biting flies began to swarm around her. Two of the women aggressively rubbed her with scented oil, lingering on her breasts and thighs. One of them stripped off her loin covering and greased her bottom and crotch, stopping just short of fingering her. Bo retreated into a discreet ankle bracelet. When the women had finished with her, Stella wondered again if she was not the main course at dinner and the oil was a marinade.
The insects no longer buzzed or bit her.
Makalla led Stella to a cleared space near the fire and offered her a g-string of supple leather. Stella put it on, wondering exactly what sort of fight the chief had in mind, even as Makalla nodded to her and assumed a wrestler’s stance.
That’s good, Stella thought. No knives or pointy stick. She had wrestled once or twice similarly oiled for the amusement of clients, though none of her opponents had been anywhere near as big or capable looking as this Amazonian chief. Stella dropped into a crouch and followed Makalla’s lead, circling the beautiful goddess slowly, trying to find a weakness. Stella snorted at herself. Unless Makalla suddenly sprouted boils or some creature ripped off one leg above the knee, she wasn’t going to see anything beyond the gorgeous green eyes and full lips.
Makalla feinted and Stella dodged but the chief had anticipated the dodge and she gripped Stella’s arm. Within a heartbeat, a muscled arm circled her waist, slippery and not unpleasant until the ground abandoned her and her back hit dirt, driving the air from her lungs. Makalla straddled her, grinding pussy to pussy for a moment, symbolically fucking her conquest.
“Next time,” Stella said. “Maybe we can play a hand of cards?”
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
So, with the seam of the years stretching until it breaks, I hope you like this excerpt. I'll have more to say about Man's World soon.
I hope 2010 treated you with respect, and I hope your 2011 is hot, sexy and filled with creamy joy!!
Happy New Year!!
Anglea Caperton
Man’s World (Excerpt)
by Angela Caperton
Copyright 2010
by Angela Caperton
Copyright 2010
The woven green canopy above Stella blocked much of the sky, but through breaks in the trees and vines she navigated toward the enormous towers. To her surprise, as she neared the heart of Scion City the jungle grew thicker rather than thinner. She kept to the edge of a wide path where the foliage didn’t block quick progress and did her best to set her course toward the heart of the city. The trees stretched taller than she could crane her neck to see, and the thick bases sank into a rich, leaf-covered ground. Massive roots provided mini mazes and odd housing for animals and secrets. Vines and crawling large-leafed plants stretched upwards, sometimes screening large airy patches where lush light filtered through to feed the ground. The air in the jungle clung to her skin and pressed against her lungs, damp and hot and still. She paused in her flight and stared through a cut in the foliage to see the towers of the city. The skies among the spires buzzed and swarmed with little air cars and copters. As she moved on, she realized the path she followed was not a path but a road, crudely cut into the ground, overgrown and scarred. As she ran, she crossed three roads like the one she was on, some of them sporting fresh animal tracks. The men of Scion City seemed to prefer to fly.The jungle itself grew wild and thick as any holo Stella had ever seen of old Earth or any of the green planets. The air hummed with insects, and the calls of what she hoped were benign birds rang and chattered incessantly. She saw the blue streaks of fast monkeys, the scuttle of lizards, and paths where larger animals traveled.
Drawing on a program that must have come from Vyra’s mirror, Bo melted into a soft leathery loin cloth, a bra trimmed in fuzzy fur, and a wispy net garment woven of synth-steel that kept bugs and sharp-edged leaves at bay. So protected, Stella followed another of the widening paths, keeping her course tending toward the towers.
Stella’s progress was suddenly arrested by a looming shape at the side of the path. At first she thought it might be one of the massive trees but, as she drew closer, Stella saw that there was no texture to the bark, no grain or shell-like tiles, and the true vertical span didn’t dip or turn from a perfect ninety degree angle. She stopped and listened, hearing still only the call of the birds and the occasional screech of an animal. Crouched, careful, she approached the massive root and saw it was made of metal. She stood close to the massive structure and craned her neck to try and see the top. Dizziness forced her to look away quickly. She walked carefully all around its immense base but saw no door. Guard tower perhaps?
She moved back onto the road and continued working her way toward the city. Twice she heard men near her and hid to watch little bands of the fugitive Fumblars pass by, desperate and a little crazy with bug bites and fear. She picked up a long, thin branch and cleared it of dead leaves and smaller outgrowths. She carefully broke the brittle wood over a rock, happy for the sharp point the break created. Confident, she pressed on until she had passed a dozen of the towers, finding a few old doors tightly locked. Some had cracks in the lichen-filled frames as though they had not opened in decades.
Stella brushed sweat from her forehead and dreamed of a shower. The buzzing insects seemed to surround her at times, then would disappear, as if they plotted new attack strategies with each new swarm. To Bo’s credit, Stella never felt a sting or bite.
“I owe you two hours at a ‘Luxmirror, Bo. First opportunity we get.” She looked up through the green canopy when light poured down to illuminate bright patches of ground. In one of those breaks, she realized that she had worked her way well into the city and that the enormous towers, some of them veined, others bulbous where they pierced the clouds, must surround her for miles; but the Scions didn’t bother with the ground. Far above she saw dark dots moving across the patches of blue. Not birds, Stella realized: ships and air scooters.
The sun fell in the sky and she had a sense of more movement around her, bigger movement, as though the night creatures, whatever they might be, had already begun to stir. Stella shivered and tried to think how she might sleep safely in such an awful place, but her thoughts scattered as she heard cries not far away. Women’s voices, and men’s.
Following the path, she paused at the edge of a clearing, in the deepening shadow of a tower made of quartz, the distant tip blushing high above her, red in the sunset. Five of the Fumblars stood at the center of the clearing, their hands raised in surrender. Surrounding them, Stella saw twenty or more women, dressed in skins and hides, their hair wild and tangled, or half-tamed with savage ornaments of hammered metal and bone. The women carried bladed weapons that gleamed even in the fading light.
The Fumblars were rounded up and bound. Stella hesitated to step out into the clearing but caution earned her nothing. The wild women saw her at once. Two of them approached her warily, eyeing her strange clothing, their weapons ready.
“Stay back,” she said, raising her sharp stick. One of the women, her hair colored a shocking red with some sort of jungle dye, laughed and effortlessly took the stick away from Stella. They handled her with rough ease and tied her hands together, forcing her to march between them, not far behind the captive Fumblars. The sky darkened to purple and the upper levels of the towers began to glow with inner light, windows shining like vertical columns of stars reaching for heaven. Airships far above moved like fireflies, and something huge and hungry cried not far away.
The jungle women brought the Fumblars and Stella into their village and Stella saw that the compound that housed them was the wall of a fallen tower, razed to its roots, jagged lines of steel and thick glass defining a perimeter that the women had filled with little structures made of scrap metal interwoven with jungle plants. A fire blazed at the center of the village and a line of drummers beat a rhythmic welcome as the hunters returned.
Stella instantly spotted the one who must surely be the women’s leader, a magnificent, raven-haired goddess. She was a full head taller than Stella, almost entirely nude, her breasts amazing, her curves womanly; but her bare arms and legs were corded with smooth muscle, the tight line of her stomach hard and toned above a patch of ebon leather that covered her pussy. She wore a necklace and a diadem of teeth the size of daggers. Her only other garment was a short cape made of sable fur, exactly the color of her cascading hair. Stella’s mouth turned desert dry and her breath refused to exit her lungs.
The goddess-chief sat on a throne of dark wood, something that must once have been an executive’s chair, reupholstered now with striped hide. Her long legs crossed casually as the party approached. The hunting party led the Fumblars to her and Stella, restrained some distance away, strained to hear what was said.
“The jungle is filled with them,” the crimson-haired one explained. “We will get the rest of them tomorrow.”
“Strip them,” the chief commanded, and the women complied, cutting away the Fumblar’s clothing with quick moves. The five men soon cowered naked before the chief’s scrutiny. Two of them, Stella had to admit, weren’t bad looking.
“You may take those two, Igra. Do what you wish with them.”
The chief’s voice was deep but wholly feminine. “Tie the others up. Tomorrow we will see if we can sell them. I want to see any more you find.”
Escorted by jungle women, the men vanished in two different directions. Igra, the crimson-haired one, led one of her captives by his prick. Stella’s captors pushed her forward so that she stood near enough to feel the blazing fire, though the heat had no advantage on the woman who sat in judgment of her.
The intensity of the gaze nearly blistered Stella’s skin.
“I am Makalla,” the chief said, smiling a little. “Who are you?”
“Stella Blue Darter,” she answered promptly. “A stranger here, but I can promise, a friend too.”
“I do not need friends,” the chief said, her smile widening. “I need dinner.”
Stella blinked, not at all comfortable with the way Makalla appraised her.
“First we fight, you and me. The loser will serve the winner.”
One of the jungle women untied Stella.
“Take off your pretty clothes,” one of the tribeswomen told her. Stella thought it best to remove the garments normally. She took the edge of the net covering and squeezed it, giving Bo a clue. She unfastened the netting and cast it aside, then removed her halter and, for the first time in a long time, enjoyed the ritual. Breasts and shoulders exposed, she stood proud in front of her captors.
Several of the women made noises of admiration. Makalla looked at her with open appraisal.
The moment the night kissed Stella’s bare skin, mosquitoes and biting flies began to swarm around her. Two of the women aggressively rubbed her with scented oil, lingering on her breasts and thighs. One of them stripped off her loin covering and greased her bottom and crotch, stopping just short of fingering her. Bo retreated into a discreet ankle bracelet. When the women had finished with her, Stella wondered again if she was not the main course at dinner and the oil was a marinade.
The insects no longer buzzed or bit her.
Makalla led Stella to a cleared space near the fire and offered her a g-string of supple leather. Stella put it on, wondering exactly what sort of fight the chief had in mind, even as Makalla nodded to her and assumed a wrestler’s stance.
That’s good, Stella thought. No knives or pointy stick. She had wrestled once or twice similarly oiled for the amusement of clients, though none of her opponents had been anywhere near as big or capable looking as this Amazonian chief. Stella dropped into a crouch and followed Makalla’s lead, circling the beautiful goddess slowly, trying to find a weakness. Stella snorted at herself. Unless Makalla suddenly sprouted boils or some creature ripped off one leg above the knee, she wasn’t going to see anything beyond the gorgeous green eyes and full lips.
Makalla feinted and Stella dodged but the chief had anticipated the dodge and she gripped Stella’s arm. Within a heartbeat, a muscled arm circled her waist, slippery and not unpleasant until the ground abandoned her and her back hit dirt, driving the air from her lungs. Makalla straddled her, grinding pussy to pussy for a moment, symbolically fucking her conquest.
“Next time,” Stella said. “Maybe we can play a hand of cards?”
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 12/31/2010 1:54 PM 
Categories: Science Fiction, SciFi, Darkness and Delight, Renaissance, erotica, Angela Caperton, Sci Fi, Man's World, Circlet Press, Anthology
Tags: Mans World Circlet erotical Angela Caperton Darkness and Delight Renaissance
Categories: Science Fiction, SciFi, Darkness and Delight, Renaissance, erotica, Angela Caperton, Sci Fi, Man's World, Circlet Press, Anthology
Tags: Mans World Circlet erotical Angela Caperton Darkness and Delight Renaissance
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