It’s a labyrinthine tale, a quest through all the sensual temptations of a carnival, through exquisite debauchery and emotional turmoil, past masterfully staged scenes, mesmerizingly numerous, and a vivid array of masques. For the heroine, it’s a self-discovery trip, in a way, a chase after something she can’t define until she sees a familiar figure flowing in and out of the crowd on the other side of a canal.
The Cydonian Tales, 1
The city of Venice has been rebuilt on the far planet of Cydonia. Despite the uneasy presence of the mysterious, only part-human Sand Riders who roam the Cydonian deserts, The Black Carnival has become a celebration of beauty and lust known all over the Galaxy.
Ivory Blake, a young artist from the conservative Central Planets, is thrown in the middle of the festivities to illustrate a new book about the Black Carnival. As a guest of the glamorous art collector Lukan Løvensgård, her professional assignment quickly turns into a highly emotional exploration of sensuality in all its most varied aspects, from BDSM to romantic love, passing through obsession, fear, jealousy and passionate, tender complicity.
Be Warned: menage sex (m/f/f), orgies, anal sex, sex toys, public exhibition, m/m sex, f/f sex, transexualism, BDSM.
He laughed and lifted a hand to caress my chin. He brushed a strand of hair back, tucking it behind my ear, and then he put down his glass, brought both his hands behind my head and undid the lacing of my mask. I didn't say a thing. As the mask was taken from my face, I felt more naked than I had ever felt since coming to NeuVenedig, and yet I felt no uneasiness at all. If anything, I began to unwind and took a deep liberating breath. I smiled at Laz'law and shyly, lightly caressed the tiny scales on his cheekbones, the rougher, thicker scales on his eyebrows, the beautiful strange mask that could never be taken off.
"Lovely," said he and I at the same time, and we laughed.
"So beautiful," we said again absurdly, improbably, in unison.
It was uncanny. It was fantastic.
He grinned widely. I am sure that he had quite some practice at being adored. I was not used to be called beautiful; men in the Central Planets were too correct and formal, or, perhaps, just plain shy, for such wildly romantic statements. I had been called pretty, cute, sweet and even hot, but never beautiful. Obviously, I blushed.
Lune put two fingers around my chin to turn my face to him. He looked at me tenderly and softly kissed my temples, my eyebrows, my cheekbones, all those places that he had never seen before. I closed my eyes, smiling a small beatific smile as I went more or less limp in his arms. I heard them both laughing, but I didn't open my eyes.
Laz'law took the almost empty glass from my hand; I heard him getting up and walk off towards the bar, but by then Lune was kissing my mouth in intense, hot, tongue-and-teeth kisses, and I was quite distracted. I felt Laz'law sitting back on the sofa and lifting my skirt up. He took off my tall, soft suede boots and began caressing my knees, just under the edge of the skirt, then further up, running a flat warm palm along my legs. When his hand reached the naked skin of my thighs I shuddered with pleasure and finally broke the kiss, opening my eyes to look at him.
He smiled at me, and kept caressing me in flat even caresses as if savoring the smoothness of the silk stockings and of my skin. Lune looked at him with a curiously affectionate smile, and then he said to me, "Come here."
He pulled me to sit in his lap, and began kissing me again, running his searching lips on my mouth, my throat, my neck. I sighed, my head thrown back, quite abandoned in his arms, when I felt Laz'law standing up behind me. His warm hands began to massage my naked shoulders, as if to ease my nerves. I didn’t think I needed any easing, but his warm fingers seemed to unravel my back as if it had been knotted. I bent my head forward to invite his hands higher. He obliged; his palms rubbed warmly along my neck, crawled in circles on my skull, loosening my hair, then descended again. He caressed my tightly corseted breasts and sides. Then he lifted my hair out of the way and started kissing the nape of my neck and my spine, between my shoulder blades.
I was melting like chocolate.
I pressed my face in the curve of Lune’s throat, opening my lips to taste his skin. Laz’law kneeled on the carpet behind me, lifted the skirt up around my waist, and went on kissing his way down my back as his hands caressed my legs and then my buttocks. His breath puffed warm through the crisscrossing lacing of my corset, making me shiver in anticipation.
I think I could have gone on like that forever, but after a while Lune sat up and moved further back on the deep sofa.
“Turn,” he whispered, pushing and pulling me around until I turned in his lap and sat facing Laz’law, who smiled, running his hands lightly along the inside of my legs.
I relaxed against Lune’s body, my back on his chest. I parted my legs a bit, feeling wonderfully exposed, slutty and happy. Lune lowered the zipper of my corset and, as my breasts spilled out of their almost painful confinement, I sighed and put my arms up around his neck, turning his face down to mine, silently begging him to kiss me again.
He was more than willing to comply, and kissed me deeply, hotly, his lips covering mine entirely, his tongue lashing down my throat, circling in my mouth, searching and teasing, pinning my head irresistibly against his shoulder. He kissed in fierce, carnivorous kisses, in surprising, delightful contrast with the quiet courtesy of his manner and the sweetness of his smile.
One of his hands had taken hold of my left breast, and he was squeezing my nipple, softly at first and then harder, rolling the tender skin between his strong fingers until it almost hurt. He smoothly pushed his knees between mine, and spread my legs wide with his, opening me to Laz’law’s kisses. My breath was quick and shallow in his mouth.
I could feel Laz'law's rough, scaly, metal studded brows brushing on the skin of my thighs, his warm mouth open on the almost transparent lace of my panties. His tongue was even warmer, and he ran it flatly on the damp lace a few times before untying the two twin bows that tied the panties around my hips. When my sex was naked and open before him, I pushed it upward towards his face, with a tiny pleading moan. When he stooped forward, I began rocking against his rough chin; he laughed softly and started lapping me in brief quick laps, retreating out of my reach after each lap, until I strained and arched my back for more.
"What a hot little thing she is, indeed," he said, and Lune broke the kiss again to nod and laugh.
“Told you,” he said.
They both stared at me, and I suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious at the thought that they had been talking about me, although it was quite natural, I guess. I sat up a bit straighter, closing my legs somewhat. Laz'law smiled up at me, caressing my thighs, murmuring something unintelligible but soothing while kissing my knees apart again, but in that moment I felt Lune's hands gently pushing me off his lap. I stood up and he carefully unbuttoned my skirt, which slid down my hips with a silky rustle. I kicked it off, and Laz'law, still fully dressed, still on his knees on the carpet, pulled me toward him and pressed his mouth hard on my sex.
That is when the last of my shyness went overboard.
Other Books in the Cydonian Tales:
This book is so extraordinarily good, I’m afraid that my simple words won’t do it justice. I’ll still give it a try: It would be easy to label Black Carnival merely as a sex manual, thanks to its extensive explorations of different sexual positions, tools, and “tastes” – from tender sensuality and romance on one side to near-sadistic games on the other, and everything you can think of (or haven’t, until now) in between. It is all narrated and explained in such length and graphic detail, don’t be surprised if at the end of each chapter you are in sweat, panting, repeatedly brought to climax by the spectacular depiction of the author’s imagination. But there is more. There is art, the art of mastering the written word. Like the huge, glowing painting screen in Lukan’s home displaying a new magnificent mythical scene each time Ivory comes to visit, every scene in Black Carnival is an art tableau carefully and skillfully painted by the author. I’ve rarely read a book whose colorful settings as well as character actions and wide palette of urges, emotions, and senses are so vividly brought to life, I am immersed in the story and seeing (feeling) it unfold like a motion-picture. In fact, should I be asked to pick a book to be adapted for the big screen, Black Carnival would be an obvious choice. Just remember to bring a fan (or your boyfriend).
“My dear, there is nothing, nothing, more sexy than this.” This line, in Chapter Two, says everything I want to say about this book, Black Carnival, which is Ms. Wyvern's debut novel. Welcome to Cydonia, a colonized planet far from the core worlds, and its major city, NeuVenedig, built in the style of old Venice. But if you think this is a science fiction story, think again! This is the story of Ivory Blake, a stifled artist who needed an exciting get-away, and that's just what she gets. In this first-person narrative, Ivory is hired for a job off-planet, a gig where her artistic skills can be put to good use beyond the sterile landscaping company she works for, and that's where the fun begins. Fun? Yes, fun – not only with hot, creative sex scenes but also with the way Ms. Wyvern uses words. If Ivory is an artist, then the author is her muse, inspiring her to paint vivid scenes in gripping exposition that leave the reader with no question about what her first dinner on the new planet tastes like, how classic paintings are altered into tasteful erotica, or what the colony of NeuVenedig looks, smells, and sounds like. Ms. Wyvern doesn't just write words; she paints with them. Ivory finds herself smack in the middle of the Black Carnival, an near-endless masque of night revels that continues until the sun comes up – which it doesn't for several weeks. There's one perk of this new planet: Ivory can enjoy herself to her heart's contentment. She may have been shy to start with, but she opens up to all the sexual possibilities that the Carnival and its merrymaking sex aficionados have to offer. And the reader is along for the ride – a wild, erotic ride without inhibitions and without shame. But the problem is that Ivory falls in love with Lune, and she realizes that it is not the pleasures of the Carnival, per se, that she wants but rather this handsome and exotic Sand-Rider. Lune is from an artificially-bred race, not quite human, and Ivory finds that she is not allowed to be with Lune outside of the Carnival. His breed is not allowed in the cities, and humans are not allowed out. Black Carnival is light on plot, but that's not a bad thing. Ms. Wyvern writes beautiful prose, descriptive set-pieces that show the reader the world and all that is in it – including the people and their amorous encounters. For people tired of reading the same banal dialogue and seeing the same stereotypical characters popping up again and again (like me!), Black Carnival is a refreshing change. I didn't just read this book; I lived every scene with Ivory. That's how good Ms. Wyvern's writing is! I highly recommend this book.