Slaves Of Love by Stephen B. Pearl


A science fiction, romance, erotica (romantica), detective novel.


Rated NC17 - adult content - explicit sexuality.


Published by and available from Club Lighthouse Publishing.


ISBN-13: 978-1926839042.


39 chapters, ~245 pages, ~99,500 words.


Location: future Canada - Toronto, Ontario.


An interview about Slaves of Love is available at Sweete Spot

Reviews and a discussion about cross-genre writing, based on Slaves of Love, are below.


Slaves Of Love book cover - science fiction romance erotica

Description


     Race is a private eye, ex-cop in the year 2105. As a left over from an undercover mission he must struggle to control Ralph, an artificial personality implanted in Race so that he could infiltrate the crime syndicates. Ralph is a sociopath, immune to the anti-violence conditioning everyone receives at the age of ten. The Race personality retains control of his body until Astra, Race's secret fantasy, is slipped protoerotoskillen, a drug that turns her into a love-slave. To save Astra, Race releases the Ralph personality so that he can force Todd, Astra's handler, to tell him how to counter the drug.


     Race also forces Todd to give evidence against the crime syndicate to the police.


     Lois, a dirty cop breaks Todd out of police custody and takes him to Percival, the local crime boss. Percival becomes aware of Ralph's existence and decides to increase Race's stress level so that the Ralph personality can take control. With the precision of a chess master Percival uses protoerotoskillen and venusfly, a drug that induces a nearly irresistible lust, to manipulate Race's family and friends towards their destruction.


     Will Race realise his loved ones are under attack in time to save them? Is Astra's love real or drug induced, and will it be enough to hold Race's sanity together? What does Ralph think of this situation, and can a sociopath learn to love? Most importantly, how can a man who can't hit back defend what he holds dear?



Slaves of Love Chapter 1 Reviews

Slaves of Love discussion on cross-genre writing



Chapter 1
It Buys The Groceries


     The dark-haired Adonis approached the double bed. The muscles of his broad chest rippled, and his large cock bobbed with each step.


     "Damn, I hate it when I'm right." Race focussed the image on the man's too perfect face then hit a button accessing the central computer's ident files. A moment later the caption appeared on the bottom of the screen 'LARS P. ANGELO - Fraud, Petty Theft, Grand Theft Auto.' He backed off the screen to show the bed. A large-busted blonde lay naked in its centre. She was a shining example of the plastic surgeon's art. Her long hair framed an Angel face, while her legs were pure muscle and her skin too perfect to be true.


     "Well well, fancy meeting you here, Mrs. 'Please call me Diana' Winters," quipped Race.


     Lars knelt on the bed and caressed the rounded curve of Diana's breasts.


     Another man appeared on the screen. He was Asian with a wiry build and boyish features. His hair had been dyed with gold streaks. He kissed gently up Diana's inner thigh.


     "My my..." Race focussed on the second man's face and called for an ident. The system took longer, and he examined the inside of his car. Old, fast food wrappers littered the back seat of the battered compact. The charge metre, in his dash, read just over half, and the aging, vinyl upholstery crackled when he shifted his weight. The screen and computer were built into the front dash between the driver and passenger seats. The system beeped, and he looked down at the screen.


     'NOEL LEE - Break and Enter, Trespassing, Robbery, Fraud.'


     "Nice choice in playmates, Diana." Race backed off the focus so it encompassed the entire bed then turned up the volume.


     "Mmmmm." Diana reached out and caressed Lars's hard cock. Noel's lips kissed her sex running his tongue deeply into her.


     "Ahaaaa." Diana pulled Lars to her. He stroked his fingers through her hair as she ran her tongue the length of his dick. Gripping his shaft she encircled the head with her lips and inched down his length, obviously savouring every centimetre. The way she writhed on the bed spoke to her enjoyment of the men worshipping her body.


     "Damn, if I wasn't so honest I could make a mint with a tape like this." Race felt his own manhood harden in his slacks.


     Noel slowly licked his way along Diana's slit then fastened his lips over her clit, sucking it. She moaned around Lars's dick. He licked his fingers and tugged on her nipples.


     Noel pulled away, running his tongue up her body, pausing to suckle her. Lars withdrew from her mouth and took her other nipple between his lips. Two sets of hands explored her body. She hugged her lovers around their necks, clamping them to her tits as they tongued and suckled her. Noel slipped his fingers into her vagina while Lars played with her clit. Noel replaced the fingers in her passage with his thumb. Spreading his palm he teased the ring of her anus with his middle finger.


     "Well now. Aren't we the kinky one, Mrs. Winters? That is very, very bad for you. Haven't you read about high-risk activities? I just hope you haven't given Bill anything that can't be cured. I need his corporate business." Race shifted uncomfortably in his seat.


     Noel pushed one finger into her ass then another. Diana's face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain. Her arms fell away from her lovers' necks, and she was lifted onto all fours. Lars lay below her, and she felt Noel pressed against her back. She lowered herself onto Lars' rigid pole, stretching the walls of her vagina then Noel pressed against her back door. It resisted for a second then yielded and allowed him to slide in.


     "Not even using condoms. Arseholes!" Race glanced out over the seedy motel's parking lot. Its neon, vacancy sign looked tacky in the light of day. Diana's new 2105 Jaguar seemed out of place against the neat row of small, black, electric cars, identical to Race's, that filled the lot. Beyond the lot the crumbling sprawl of early twenty-first-century, tract housing stretched out on all sides.


     On the screen the three lovers moved in a rhythm that was obviously the result of long practice.


     "Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Come on, give me what that old fart can't." Diana was flushed and sweat was pouring off her. The three were moving at a punishing speed.


     "Show me what you got. Give it to me. Fill me with your come. I want your cream. I want it to drip out of my holes. I want it ohhhh. Fuck Meeeeeeeeeee."


     Race blocked the volume as the cry seemed to go into the ultrasonic. Pulling a handkerchief from his blue, sports jacket's pocket he mopped his brow. After pushing his thick, brown hair away from his eyes he pulled on the neck of the black turtleneck he wore before turning the sound back on.


     Lars knelt between Diana's legs, leisurely lapping at her well-used sex. Diana lounged, clearly spent, but willing to have the fires rekindled.


     "I hate that you will go back to him. Must you talk of him while we are together?" demanded Noel.


     "Shh. It's only another month then the pre-nup is over, and we all walk away with a sweet fifteen million. Isn't that worth the wait?" Diana pulled Noel's face to hers and kissed him.


     "Got Ya!" Race smiled at the screen where Noel was positioning himself to take Lars's penis into his mouth, while Diana engulfed Noel's spent member in hers.


     "At least Bill knows in time to stop her. Too bad though, he really seems to love that bitch.


     "Computer, encode security scramble A-three. Transmit audiovisual file to office terminal cc to Harris, Rosenbaum and Associates, Attorneys at Law. Execute."


     The computer in the dash beeped, and a mechanical voice said, "Complete."


     Getting out of his vehicle Race stretched his lean, muscular body. He knew he looked good for a man of thirty, who'd never bothered with plastic surgery. The slight asymmetry of his face and too angular jaw gave him a real man ruggedness that a lot of women liked in a playmate, no matter the current fad. He glanced at his car. It was identical to the lease vehicles that surrounded it, except its body showed the wear of several years' use. Its ident plate carried the P designation that told the world he owned his own ride. Plus he hadn't bothered to connect his power cord to the recharge station at the front of the parking spot. He forced a smile and strode to the motel office.


     The office consisted of little more than a room out of the weather, cut in half by a counter. Behind the counter a washer and dryer worked through a seemingly never-ending pile of linens. A plump, Asian woman, wearing track pants and a grubby T-shirt, put down a cell-phone and stood up from the recliner she was sitting in.


     Race shook his head. "Joslin, you really should read the Health Canada warning on those things." He gestured towards the cell phone. "Too much EM radiation gives you cancer."


     "I closed it down when you came in, so don't bug me. You done?"


     "I got what I needed. Thanks." Race held out his money card.


     "Always glad to help, sweetie." The dark-haired woman smiled, took the card and swiped it through her personal exchanger. "Two-hundred."


     "One-hundred for putting them in room six, and one-hundred when you return my mini-cam. I'll be by next week to pick it up. That was our agreement."


     "You can trust me for it."


     "Joslin, not as far as I could throw you."


     Joslin snorted. "You're OK, Officer Horace. Too smart, but OK."


     "Hasn't been officer for a year now, Joss."


     "Always gonna be to me. Only good one on the force! John always said you couldn't be bought. Sure you can't stay for dinner? John's got a weekend release."


     "Not today. I have to go tell a man that the woman he loves is a conniving slut. Sometimes I hate this job." Race authorized the money transfer and took back his card.


     "Yeah, but what else ya gonna do? Really though, ya gotta come by and see John. You saying it was DeCapreho as did the hack and John was set up saved him five years moon side."


     "Just called 'em like I see 'em."


     "And pissed off Mr. DeCapreho by sending his little Walter to the moon."


     "Job wasn't about keeping the syndicate bosses happy. Heck, they were the other team. I gotta go." Race waved over his shoulder and returned to his car. Pressing his thumb to the activation plate he engaged the motor and manoeuvred onto the road beside the motel.


     "Computer, access satellite uplink, plot best route back to the office with current traffic conditions."


     "Cannot comply," spoke the mechanical voice.


     "What? Why?"


     "You are scheduled for your court ordered psychiatric analysis at fifteen-thirty hours. It is now fourteen-forty-two, estimated travel time to appointment site is thirty-six minutes. Auto drive engaged, please relax and enjoy your ride."


     "Shit!" Race leaned back in his seat as the computer hijacked his car. He'd long since realised the futility of arguing with the machine.


     "Computer, display vid-album Astra 1."


     "Complying."


     On the screen a picture of a pretty, teenage girl posing shyly for the camera appeared. She was of mixed Asian and Caucasian background, with huge, brown eyes and full lips which were pulled into a shy smile. Her skin was lightly tanned, and her brown hair was cut short, so its natural thickness gave it fullness. Her body was thin, without being gaunt. Her medium sized breasts had the softness to their appearance that only came from reality.


     Race sighed and keyed the next picture. The same girl appeared, this time wearing a bikini. Her abdomen was flat, and her legs were smooth and muscular.


     "Ah, Astra. Race you twit, this is masochistic. A girl, no woman, like her, what could she see in a burnt-out ex-cop? Besides, Sally would go atomic, not to mention Mom. Of course Mom might yell at me, which would at least be something."


     Race keyed the next picture.


     When the car pulled into the Low Town core. Race looked up from the screen, which now displayed a picture of Astra in a short skirt and halter. She looked about twenty, and the date-stamp at the bottom read June 17, 2105. The city's central tower rose before him, and he could hear the wind whistling past his car toward the generator inputs at its base. Glancing to the side he saw the last of the suburban, high-rises give out to the wind-swept desolation that surrounded the three-kilometre high, by half a kilometre across, edifice. His car plunged into the concrete tunnel that protected the road against the hurricane force winds at the tower's base.


     "Better start thinking like a nice, little sheep." Race blanked the screen and did a deep breathing exercise.


     The car pulled into a parking space, and Race got out. Lights came on marking a path to a series of elevator pods built around a concrete support pillar, ten metres across. Each pod had a bench seat and a safety bubble that would seal it for the duration of the lift.


     "Always feels like I'm getting on a god damn Ferris wheel," Race murmured.


     "Please refrain from the use of profanity in public areas." A pleasant, female voice issued from the speaker by the lift.


     "I really hate the tower!" Race took a seat in a lift pod and pulled down the safety screen. "Government level," he ordered.


     "What's the magic word?" demanded the pleasant female voice.


     "You're a computer, why should I say please?"


     "Was that so hard? Good manners help us all to live together in harmony and peace." The lift began to rise. Race felt his stomach being dragged toward his feet as exit platforms flashed by the transparent safety cover.


     "Tower life is dehumanising and artificial, why bother?" Race replied in imitation of the computer's chirpy tones.


     "Why the towers. The towers are a highly efficient system for the housing and care of humanity. Each one is a self-contained city with a population of twenty million. The pressure deferential between the top of a tower and its bottom causes a high intensity wind to rise through the tower's hollow core. This wind turns turbines supplying electricity and drives the air circulating system, insuring that all levels have a supply of fresh oxygen."


     "Shut off. God, why'd I phrase it as a question?"


     "The water vapour that condenses out, due to the cooling of the air and the expulsion of internal humidity, is captured and supplies water for use by the residence and industry housed in the tower. Numerous parks create green spaces for all to enjoy, while hydroponic gardens supplement the food supply with fresh fruits and vegetables. A state of the art computer system provides an interactive control and command interface for the population."


     "Shut up, or I swear I'll vandalise the speaker!"


     The computer voice stilled then spoke again. "Your threat of defacing public property has been logged onto your permanent record, Mr. McFadden."


     "Fine, just shut up!" Race buried his face in his hands then, sitting straight, forced him-self to breathe deeply.


     'I am at peace.' Deep breath in. 'I expel the darkness.' Slow breath out. 'I am at peace.' Deep breath in. He thought the axiom as he forced his body to calm and prepared for his meeting.


Published by and available from Club Lighthouse Publishing.