QSFer Korin I. Dushayl has a new queer erotic space opera book out (bi, gay, lesbian, non-binary, poly, trans MTF), The Lady and the Spyder book 1: Spyder’s Trouble.
As shadows of a repressive piety movement spread across the system’s free worlds, the Lady Cassandra and her slaves must flee their home. Exiled to the desert, the Dominatrix contacts her only hope for salvation—Spyder, captain of the spaceship Trouble.
Spyder ignores threats from the powerful criminal whose cargo fills Trouble’s hold, as well as the anger of his influential and overdue passenger. Risking his life, his spaceship, and his crew he rescues his owner, the Lady Cassandra from imminent danger.
Pursued both by the law and the lawless, Spyder sets Trouble’s course for the only planet in the system out of reach of criminals and cops alike.
Warnings: BDSM, Edge Play, multiple deaths
“Spyder, look at this.” Bunk pointed to the flickering comvid.
Tamara peered around Spyder and winced. She would fix the comvid wiring as soon as she repaired the food synthesizer and overhauled the thrusters.
Bunk hit the top of the comvid so the letters stayed still. The message said only: “I require your assistance immediately. Cassandra.” It was followed by coordinates on Linistor.
Spyder pointed at the comvid. “Set a course.”
Bunk swiveled his seat around so it faced Spyder, eyes wide in his swarthy face. “Are you bunkers? What the bunk do mean, set coordinates for Linistor? If we don’t deliver his crates on time, Creeper will have our hides. For dinner.” Volume escalating with each sentence, Bunk was shouting now. Tamara put a hand on his muscular arm. The tattoos on his biceps quivered as he flinched, but he dropped back to what, for Bunk, was a normal tone of voice.
“And have you forgotten about Sir Demanding? He paid good money to get to Aargine by day after tomorrow. Even if you turn around the moment we arrive on Linistor, this’ll put us at least ten days behind schedule.”
“Set a course.” Spyder turned on his heel and stomped off in the direction of the passenger cabin.
“Who the bunk is this dame, anyway?” Bunk shouted to an empty corridor. “Bunk, bunk, bunk.” He swiveled back to the console and punched buttons so hard Tamara winced. The keypad needed replacing at least a year ago.
“Bunk, please. I don’t have time to repair your keypad and Spyder doesn’t have credits to replace it.” Especially if we lose money chasing off to Linistor.
Bunk growled, but his touch eased back. “Brace yourself.”
Tamara spread her stance and pressed one hand against the bulkhead, grabbing the back of Bunk’s seat with the other. He pressed one last key and the ship tilted as it changed course much faster than necessary. Tamara shook her head, knowing Bunk turned his skill at evasive maneuvers against the Captain to express his displeasure.
Cups left on the table in the galley clattered to the floor and Sir Demanding, as the crew referred to Rith Frazel, Prefect of Abhinav Delhi on Aargine, screeched a string of invectives audible throughout the ship, evoking a smirk from Bunk.
As a FemDom, I.G. Frederick knows first hand the beauty of symbiotic D/s relationships filled with love. As an observer she sees the many ways BDSM turns ugly. She writes about abusive and tragic interactions as Korin I. Dushayl.
I.G. Frederick trades words for cash, specializing in erotic and transgressive fiction and poetry since 2001. Her erotic short stories appeared in Hustler Fantasies, Forum, Foreplay, and Desire Presents, as well as electronic, audio, and print anthologies. Her novels receive high praise from readers, critics, and other authors.
Ms. Frederick owns the man she adores who, although dominant in the rest of his life, demonstrates his love by serving as her submissive.