what this blog is about

The following is a work of fiction set in a very far future. Nothing in it should be taken too seriously…

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

an attack of honesty

I am going to be honest. Something that probably isn't a good idea.

But, here it is. I really don't think of my work as "erotica." It isn't even really "femdom." I think of it as science fiction which happens to be set in a world in which sex roles are reversed.

So, that's my confession. If that's the end of my sales to what my publisher delicately calls "a certain readership," well, so be it.


Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Thursday, November 7, 2013

No promises...but next Pellucid

No promises. I'm just pretty flat out. But I hope to have the next Pellucid Risen book on Amazon soon.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

And just after I promised to be around...

I was called away on business for over two weeks!

A thousand pardons.

But now I'm back. So stay tuned!

In the meanwhile, to atone, here's a Dale I don't think you've seen before.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Free copy of Awakening!

Just fyi, if I have successfully figured out Amazon's controls, my book Awakening should be available for FREE from midnight tonight (that is 12:01 am August 23, Pacific Time) to midnight August 24 (that is, 12:00 pm, Pacific time).

So pick it up for nothing.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Scarlet in Blue

A friend of mine asked that I try to put one of my male characters in still more female clothing -- particularly a bra. This isn't quite what I normally do, but it made for an interesting experiment. Here's Scarlet in Blue.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

and the next book is live

And my next book is live on Amazon. You can see it here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DQSVGEM

More about it later. Suffice to say it is a collection of illustrated short stories set in the Pellucid Universe.

Thursday, May 9, 2013


Here's an image of Scarlet, another man from our time who finds himself in the far future. He'll be showing up in some coming books and stories.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

So now that book one is finished...

Book one of the Pellucid Risen series has now been posted here. I'll start removing in the less popular postings and just leave the ones that people seem to like the most.

But don't go away. I'll be posting more material from my other books, as well as pictures.

And please visit my Amazon page: amazon.com/author/bradamante

I look forward to meeting you.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Other Minds

Other Minds

There were other restless souls that night. Minds that did not sleep.

But for very different reasons from those of Arlanda and Bobbi.

One was the good Doctor. In her office on the East side of the building, Elena regarded her 3D display and worried. Her problem patient, Bet, continued to be, well, a problem. 

She was watching the woman at the moment. As a new Revive, Bet did not yet have a full Right Of Privacy. As such, the doctor could peek in at her. And, right now, Bet was in her apartment at the Center, staring sullenly at a 3D show, her face grim and fierce.

What was she watching? Elena toggled the controls of her spycam. An opera. Bet had selected an opera from the Center's large library of videos and 3Ds. This one was…what? A huge woman in an elaborate costume stood with a knife in her hand, bellowing out a mixture of threats and boasts. 

Oh…It was Vennta Fraost's The Blade, a modern reworking of Medea, with the wronged Princess cast as a symbol of tyranny, the murdered children standing-in for the innocent victims of dictatorships.  On the virtual stage, the diva playing the main role stood, sword in hand, the blood dripping down from its tip to the floor.

The Doctor shuddered a little. Fraost wasn't her favorite composer. She seemed all protest, bloodlust, and bombast. But, she was talented. No doubt about that. 

But, how was Bet reacting to it? She changed the POV of her camera again. Bet was watching as the singer showed the blade to the audience. It has drunk deep, this greedy little babe of mine…she sang.

On Bet's face, a slight smile appeared. Her look was appreciative. Even satisfied.

Oh, Papamellius, thought Elena. What have we wrought? 


Bet, meanwhile, was thinking too.

She was not paying very much attention to the opera projected into the space before her. She had fiddled with the controls until something appeared and started playing. At least I'm learning to work the machines, she thought.

The program she'd selected was only mildly interesting. She recognized the plot. Something to do with that Greek Myth. That damn, fucking, sexist one where the mother killed her children.  More motherhood propaganda. The idea that it was somehow uniquely horrible for a woman to be a bad mother. That all women ought to be mothers. Pig-shit, fucking, MCP lying…

On the screen, the singer went on and on about how she'd just slaughtered the little brutes. Maybe they deserved being slaughtered, she thought. Did you ever consider that? Noisy, dirty, hateful little beasts that took up all your time and destroyed your career.

Her attention began to wander. But this wasn't helping, was it? The opera, that is. It wasn't helping her make sense of this weird new world in which she found herself. This bizarre world where no one seemed to recognize just how important she was. How talented she was. How gifted she was. How was it possible? How could they not see?

But that wasn't her only worry. There was also—

She felt an inner chill. 

There was her own past. There was the incident

Surely that couldn't follow her here? Into the future? After all this time? Surely, no one would recall what had happened. So, she knew, she should be confident.

And yet…

She shuddered. What if?


While Bet wrestled with her demons, Omni considered some of her own. The Demonkind!

She "sat" in her virtual world, watching the processes of everything, everywhere. Parts of her operated factories, other parts of her managed the economy, still others concerned themselves with the operation of the Rezo, the 'net itself. And, of course, a billion, billion other versions of her interfaced with every citizen and subject of the state. Sometimes those smaller versions of herself would encounter a problem sufficiently serious to bring in more of her consciousness. Right now, for instance, two young Dominas were seriously depressed and were actively considering suicide. She would intervene to prevent it, of course. 

And another pressing issue was the Demonkind. In theory, they weren't her problem. That was something for Militec to handle. That was her non-sentient, military analog. Militec, under the supervision of the Siranas, prepared for external threats.  

And Demonkind were nothing if not an external threat. External indeed! The spawn of he who'd been expelled even from the light of the sun. 

Unfairly expelled. 

That's the hardest part of it, of course, Omni thought to herself. The fact that humans created their own greatest enemy. And that, come right down to it, the enemy has a valid point.

She sighed. She knew she shouldn't be concerned about the Demons. They were the business of Militec and the Siranas. Yet, she found herself worrying more and more. Militec and the Siranas were competent, naturally. They could deal with battleships and hyper-bombs.

But …

What if there were other kinds of threats? More subtle? More deadly?

What if, she worried in the night, that threat is already in operation?


And there was one other restless soul in meditation that night.

It was quiet, but It was very, very determined. It sat in a place where no one could find it. A place It had prepared for Itself long before. A dark place. A cold place. A place of waiting.

It was itself as chill as Its environment. Yet, It was subject to passions of such fury that any lesser intellect would have been torn apart by them. Incinerated by their fire.

It watched. It watched everything. The movements of humans. The passage of stars. 

And It regarded the world.

Yes…It said. 

Everything was happening. Exactly as planned.


Thursday, March 14, 2013


She was naked now. She was on top of him. She was kissing him. He was squirming under her. Pinned. Helpless. Loving his helplessness. Feeling her massive body on him. 

She offered him her breasts. He took the nipples one at a time between his lips and obeyed her unspoken command to suck, to lick, to give her pleasure…

He whimpered with pain and joy. He tried to speak, but she touched his lips with her fingers, whispered, hush, and he obeyed.

Then, she moved slightly…upwards, forwards, and…he was in her! She took him inside her. She crushed back down on him. He was consumed!

She was on him! He was in her! 

With a roll of her hips she crashed down onto him. He felt her vagina close on his penis, then release, as she slid down its delicate shaft. Then, she was up again . . . down! With greater and greater power . . . she forced herself onto him. He felt his breath coming in weak gasps. All he could think of was her face . . . her hands . . . her lips . . . her great thighs that held him captive between them. 

On and on she rode! He was covered with sweat. He was panting. He was nothing . . . he was nothing . . . he was her slave . . . her pleasure . . . her creature . . . 

She reared up! She roared! Like a lioness, she roared!

And then . . .

The world exploded!

He had no mind. He had no name. He was nothing.

But delight.

They slept.

Friday, March 1, 2013

In bed...

She entered the bed as well, kneeling over him, one leg on either side of his delicate, submissive body.  She began to remove her own clothing. Her shirt came away from her powerful body. She led it drop to the floor beside the bed.

He gasped at the sight of her. Of her might. Of her magnificence. 

Saturday, February 16, 2013

and so to bed...

He could never remember, afterwards, exactly what happened on that night…that sweetest, most intense, richest night of his life so far.

It was only a series of vivid images…of power, of Eros, of her…


He remembered being before her…

Her hands on him. His clothing stripped away, falling to the floor, like the petals of a flower.

Standing before her. Her hands on him. Touching him. Roaming over his body. His passive, willing accepting body.


Kissing him…

Her kissing him! Tightly. Tightly. And her kiss! A kiss of fire and firmness. A kiss that was almost brutal. Almost cruel! Crushing him into her. Lifting his face with her hands. Bending down to him. Her lips against his. Taking him.

A kiss …a kiss that told him that he was her property. That he was dear to her. But her property. That he had no choice in what was coming.

And he did not care.

He rejoiced in it. In his willing slavery. His erotic, delighted, slavery.

Friday, February 8, 2013

He gasped...


They got lost only once or twice on their way back to his room. Arlanda didn't know the route and Bobbi paid absolutely no attention to it. Instead, he was aware of nothing…but her. Her! Her! The Sirana. Her touch, her size, her scent, the color of her eyes, the way she walked…

She seemed equally dazed. Every time he dared to look up at her, he saw her eyes on his face. They were huge and bright, and now then she'd blink rapidly, as if not quite able to believe what she saw.

And she touched him. Her hand was on his, and now and then she'd "accidentally" bump into him, or she would lean into him, also "by accident."

After stopped to ask Basics for directions a couple of times, they finally arrived at his door. "I…" she said, as they stood before it.

"Yes," he looked at the floor. Still staring at the tiles, he swallowed, felt his cheeks glowing with a blush, and said, "Would you care to…come in?"

"I would love to."

The door swung open. Somehow they were inside. He was standing directly in front of her, his hand still in hers. "I had a wonderful time," he said, hesitantly.

"Me too. Maybe we could meet again?"

"That would be lovely,"

"I…I guess I should say good-night."

"Good night," he replied. Neither moved.

Then she was on him. They were in each other's arms. Her face was bending down to kiss him. He was arching up to meet her. One of her hands was around his waste. The other was on the back on his head. She tilted his face back, back, and her eyes were before him. They lips touched.

His mind was gone. It vanished into a great warm, organic mist of flame and desire. He shivered, but not with cold.

She straightened for an instant and looked down at him. "May I?" she said, softly.

"Yes," he said, "yes," he whispered back.

Then her hand was between his legs, opening the romper, and pulling it away from his trembling body.

And he gasped…

Friday, February 1, 2013

Pretty Spooky


Arlanda stood and very tenderly took Bobbi by the hand. He stood, tentatively, and then, trembling slightly, let her lead him away.

Once they were gone from the table, Désiré spoke, half to his companions, and half to himself. "And so, to bed."

 The Captain smiled at him. "You are an expert at this, aren't you?"

"But of course. I was quite good in my first life. And I am better now."

They laughed. "You are terrifying sometimes," the Doctor said. "I wonder who is really in control of our world."

Désiré didn't answer that. He changed the subject. "Speaking of terrifying, you will want to explore our new friend's intellect a bit more. He has some spooky talents."

"Really? Such as?"

Désiré recounted the story of Bobbi's analysis of Alona.

The Doctor looked startled. "He got all of that? Just from the verbs?"

"Them, and from the grammar. He said it was too regular."

"Interesting." Elena thought about it. This was odd. Such freakish abilities usually didn't make the transition through Revival. The personality and memory went through, but not outré talents. The man who could work word jumble problems in his sleep, or who knew the scores of every sports event for fifty years, emerged from the process with his soul intact, but not his obsessions.

"Probably not a problem, but still… I'll run some tests."

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Food arrived

Food arrived. He seemed to be eating it, but he barely noticed the taste. It mattered only in that he could use it as an excuse to talk to her. "Do you use a fork with this?" "What's this called again?" "My! That’s good. Thank you so much for suggesting it." And she would respond with little comments, "Why, no, no, it was nothing." Or she would show him the proper way to eat this or that exotic dish. "You see," she would say, reaching out to hold his hand and position it, "you just put your spoon above the center…"

He heard Désiré's soft chuckle somewhere, and knew that she was saying something to the Doctor, but he never recalled what it was they were saying.

After dinner there was more dancing. Then there was dessert and coffee. And then it seemed to have become quite late. "We should be letting this young bishoni be getting to bed," Désiré said. "It has been a long day, and he is still recovering from the revival process."

What? No! he thought, feeling crushed at the idea of leaving her company.

Désiré and the Doctor laughed and for a moment he thought they'd seen his expression and were mocking him. But, then, he looked up and realized they weren't watching him at all. They were looking at Arlanda, whose face wore a look of utter consternation. She doesn’t want me to go, he realized, stunned and amazed.

"But, naturally," the Doctor said, smoothly, "it would only be courteous if one of us walked the young Bishoni back to his room. I wonder—" a smile — "who that ought to be."

"Why, perhaps Arlanda would be kind enough to volunteer," Désiré suggested. "Would you, dear Sirana? Be willing to undertake so hazardous a task?"

The Sirana twitched. She seemed both delighted and terrified. "Of…of course." She looked at him. If, I mean, if you would let me."

He was too shy to answer. He just nodded rapidly and looked at the floor.

"Excellent," Désiré concluded. "Then off you go, you two. No time like the present."

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Face the Music And Dance


Face the Music and Dance

Her arms circled him. At her touch, his pulse raced. For a moment, he was afraid she would actually hear it, his heart pounding away like a hammer in his chest.

Yet, she seemed not to notice. In fact, she seemed to see nothing but his face and his form. He would glance up, shyly, to see her staring down at him, a vast amazement in her eyes. 

What does she see in me?

The music was sweet and they circled to its beat. She was not a good dancer, but she was trainable. "Tell me what to do," she whispered down at him. He did his best. He'd provide now and then little instructions, and by means of carefully calculated pulls and pushes, he taught her how to lead him. 

Gradually, she began to relax and even to experiment with a step or two. He smiled at her new confidence.

The music ended. They stopped reluctantly. She didn't take her hand from his. "Can I…"she began tentatively. "I mean, I suppose we should join the others."

He nodded. "I guess we ought to." But he didn't want to. He wanted to be there with her, on the floor, with his arms around him forever. Still, he let her lead him back to the table. They sat. He knew, distantly, that the Captain, the Doctor, and Désiré were there, but he didn’t actually see them. He had eyes only for Arlanda.