The isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
A ship-wrecked sorcerer and a spirit trapped in a knotty pine. Prospero is determined to be the master on this isle, and Ariel is happy to obey his commands and do her spriting gently, magically — and very pleasantly.
In this erotic prequel to Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Mary Cyn retells the story of Prospero’s arrival on the enchanted island, and his first encounter with his dainty, delicate Ariel.
She stared at me a moment, with the wide eyes of a frightened animal. As I stood, my hand unthinkingly closed around a fallen branch from the tree. It was thick and long enough to reach from the ground to my chest. Startled by my movement, she started to scamper away like an animal but I called out.
She stopped and looked at me, questioning, with a hint of deference in her eyes. Holding the branch in my hand like a staff, I reached down and helped her to her feet.
“I am a sorcerer of no small art.” I proclaimed. “It was I who freed from this oak’s knotty entrails.”
Her eyes lingered on the length of wood as though she recognized it from her captivity. Gingerly, she touched the shard of her former prison, fingers brushed down the length to stop at my hand. When she reached my fingers, her gaze became soft, as one remembering some long forgotten story. She felt the power in my flesh, the magic that still hummed through me.
“You owe me much, sprite,” There was a hint of warning to my voice.
Slowly she nodded and sank to her knees. Her eyes rose to meet mine, open and unguarded. “What would you have me do?” she asked, the inflections of my speech still new to her tongue. The cloak hung slightly open as she knelt, baring a glimpse of her naked flesh. Desire stirred within me, aroused by her strange beauty, her simple pliancy. Her flesh seemed delicate and inviting of use.
Boldness crept into me and I said, “You are mine now.”