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    Elf Princess on Mars
    Elf Princess on Mars
    Elf Princess on Mars
    Ebook320 pages2 hours

    Elf Princess on Mars

    By Stephen D. Sullivan

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    About this ebook

    THIS IS THE GENERAL AUDIENCES EDITION OF THIS BOOK.

    The last time she went out on a date, Faye nearly got sacrificed to a dragon. And this weekend ... Well, maybe it’s not quite as bad as that, but when an elf girl’s looking for her first-ever lay, she does not expect to wind up stark naked on Mars. Before you can say “really unlucky in love,” our poor heroine is being trussed up by albino Therns and almost skewered by green, four-armed Tharks. It’s almost enough to make a girl want to stay a virgin forever! On the other hand, Mars does have that handsome warrior from some far-off place called Earth...

    “Elf Princess on Mars” is a light-hearted sci-fi/fantasy mash-up with an erotic touch. As a bonus, the e-book includes the full, original text of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ “A Princess of Mars,” with all-new character illustrations of John Carter, Dejah Thoris, and Tars Tarkas.

    “Elf Princess on Mars” is available in both a general audiences edition and a special, fully illustrated, Elf Erotica Edition, which features not only uncensored in-text illustrations, but also an expanded gallery of outtakes and sketches.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStephen D. Sullivan
    Release dateMar 7, 2012
    ISBN9781476366098
    Elf Princess on Mars
    Author

    Stephen D. Sullivan

    Stephen D. Sullivan has written more than 50 books across many genres: fantasy, SF, horror, detective, movie adaptations, and more. Readers the world over enjoy his fast-moving prose style and hard-hitting action sequences. He has won numerous awards for his work, including the 2016 Scribe Award for his horror-comedy novel, Manos: The Hands of Fate.Not sure where to start? Try these:NEW! Manos: Talons of FateBEST SELLER: Manos: The Hands of Fate (2016 Scribe Award Winner)HORROR & MONSTERS: Daikaiju AttackFANTASY: Tournament of Death novelsSCIENCE FICTION: Heart of Steam & RustADULT: Elf Erotica (Elf Princess on Mars)OVERVIEW: Martian Knights & Other TalesThere are plenty of others to choose from, too. (Including some books from other authors published by Steve's Company, Walkabout Publishing.)Browse! Buy! Enjoy!

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      Book preview

      Elf Princess on Mars - Stephen D. Sullivan

      ELF PRINCESS ON MARS – CONTENTS

      ELF PRINCESS ON MARS

      Samples of Other Stories

      Crash of the Titans

      Monster Shark

      Kidnapped by Saurians

      Snowraven

      About the Story

      About the Author

      A PRINCESS OF MARS by Edgar Rice Burroughs – CONTENTS PAGE

      ELF PRINCESS ILLUSTRATIONS

      Elf Princess Cover

      Elf Princess Cover Illustration.

      Elf Princess on Mars

      A Bawdy Barsoom Adventure

      Stephen D. Sullivan

      *

      This trifle is for Edgar Rice Burroughs, with deepest respect and affection.

      *

      I was just trying to relax a little, okay? I didn’t think any harm would come of it. I mean, it’d been a long week, and I hadn’t had much luck with my date that night…

      Are you saying he wasn’t interested?

      He was interested all right, very interested … but—Sigh!—he was married.

      Really, Faye, you expect me to believe that matters to you?

      Hey, you may think you know me, but you don’t. I’m a virgin, for your information.

      Oh, sure, go ahead and chuckle. Very funny.

      Well, I am, whether you believe me or not—and I wanted my first time to be … special, not some tawdry one-night stand with a guy who’ll be lying to his wife about how he was working late when he creeps into bed the next morning. I have some standards, you know.

      Fairly low standards, apparently—if I’m to judge by your work.

      Master, I’ll admit, I don’t put my best foot forward every time. But that doesn’t mean I’ll just take the first opportunity that comes along.

      Not with men.

      Not for my first time.

      Now are you going to clam up and let me tell what happened, or are you going to keep interrupting?

      Sigh! If you must, Faye, go ahead.

      Anyway, my date didn’t come off quite the way I planned—

      Snicker!

      Hey! You promised to shut up! And I needed to unwind, you know? I mean, what’s an elf girl to do?

      So, I figured a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. But it was late, and the local bathhouse had already closed.

      Then I remembered the Temple of Issus had this wonderful hot-spring pool, and I felt sure that no one would be using it at this time of night, and I figured that nobody would mind if I just went in and … took a little dip.

      So, I snuck in.

      Where were the temple guards?

      They kind of … fell asleep.

      I may have helped a little.

      I do know a little magic, you know—

      Sigh!

      —And I’m working hard to learn more. Really I am.

      Well, I get inside, strip down to my skin and jewelry, and ease myself into the pool. And—Oh my gods!—it feels great. Just what I need to make up for my disappointment.

      The spring kinda bubbles, and it makes my skin positively tingle. It’s like being licked all over by hundreds of tiny little tongues. Yum!

      Are you feeling all right, Master? You look a little flushed.

      Just … finish your story.

      So, I’m lying back in the pool, resting my shoulders on the edge and gazing up at the stars. And I feel all warm and wonderful, and the vapors from the pool—

      Mephitic vapors?

      Whatever. They’re making me feel just a bit giddy, and with the bubbles... Well, I’m wishing more than ever that my date had worked out. But I figure I can do something to take the edge off as I soak.

      Don’t look at me like that! Just ’cause I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know what tickles my lily. So, I’m lying back and trying to relax and get to that happy place where everything is fireworks. And I’m looking up at the stars and thinking how they look like diamonds when they sparkle. And there’s this one reddish star that I don’t remember ever seeing before. It’s twinkling like a newly polished ruby.

      Stop snickering! Do you want to hear this story or not?

      Do you want me to stop? ’Cause I’ll stop if you want….

      … I didn’t think so.

      So, I’m staring at the star, starting to feel pretty good, and then it’s like the star is growing—coming closer and closer.

      And the water in the pool starts swirling—though I guess that might have been my head and the vapors—and the star seems to be falling right at me. And I’m falling, too, and everything is swirling and then...

      SPLASH!

      I’m underwater! And I didn’t have enough warning to hold my breath, so I’m choking and gasping for air. And I thrash my way back to the surface, but it’s like I’ve landed in the middle of some river—a very long, straight river. And the water is freakin’ cold!

      I start swimming toward the shore, but the riverbank is really tall, and I’m thinking that this must be some kind of canal. But Lemagne is nowhere near Venitcia—I mean, we’re not, are we? I was never very good at geography—and that’s the only place I can think of that has canals.

      And then I realize that I clearly got caught in powerful magic of some kind, something to do with the pool in the temple, probably. So, I could be in Venitcia, or maybe somewhere even further away. And how will I get home from wherever this is?

      Which makes me think that maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to go swimming in the pool of Issus. Why do these kind of things always happen to me? I mean, I go out for a drink, and I wind up almost getting sacrificed to a dragon, you know? All because I’m a virgin … Which is how I got into this fix as well, I guess.

      Anyway, it’s too late now, so I’ll just have to make the best of this situation—wherever I am and whatever the situation turns out to be.

      I swim to the edge of the canal, and I’m looking for a way up, but the sides are smoothly joined stone, and I’m not a really great climber, and I don’t see any landing or stairway that I can use. Plus, I’m just about freezing my nipples off, ’cause the water is so cold.

      So, I’m trying to climb up—even though I can’t—and I look up to the top of the canal, and hanging in the sky overhead, I see two moons.

      Seriously. Two. And neither one of them has even one ring. I know. Weird, right? And, now that I notice it, the sky in this place seems pinker than it is back home. Which makes me realize that I am much, much further away from home than I thought, which means I am totally screwed!

      And not in a good way.

      Because, how am I going to get home now? How am I even going to get out of this frigid canal?

      But just then, something drops down over me, and I feel like someone’s thrown a blanket over my head. And I’m caught, and I realize what I’m tangled in is more like a spider web than a blanket. And I’m scared because—Ugh!—I hate spiders, and any spider big enough to make a web like this...!

      Well, like I said, I am totally screwed!

      I struggle like crazy, but I’m hauled out of the water like a fish in a net. Which actually makes me feel a little better, for a moment, because that’s what I suddenly realize I’m caught in: not a spider web, but a net. Phew! No spiders!

      Then I wonder, who or what is hauling me out of the canal? And I realize that I’m just as caught as if it had been a spider, and my stomach starts its twisty fear dance again. Because I’m on some freakin’ alien world and who-knows-what’s caught me. I mean, I might look like lunch to whatever this is, same way a netted fish would be to people back home.

      A face appears above the edge of the canal, and I’m thinking Thank the gods! ’cause he looks human—aside from the fact that he’s white as a sheet. But then I notice the look in his eyes. He looks … hungry … almost like he could eat me up. And not in the way you’re thinking, dirty old man!

      I scream and struggle as he pulls me onto the shore of the canal.

      Shut up! he barks, and puts a knife to my throat—except he doesn’t really say the words, more like thinks them. I guess where he comes from, they talk by telepathy or something, which is good, in a way, because I never was very good at languages. I mean, I know Elvish, and the trade tongues, and such, but … well, you’ve seen how well I read magic. It might as well be High Venitcian or something.

      You know … I think maybe I have a language learning block. Elves are supposed to be good at languages, right?

      In order to learn you must listen. And to listen, you must stop talking … but not right now.

      Okay, so I’m still naked—You didn’t forget that, right?—and I’ve got a knife to my throat and this albino guy with a shaved head drooling at me. And the look in his eyes says that maybe he’s got ideas … like the very kind of thing I avoided with my date earlier in the evening, because I wanted it to be special. And this guy is definitely not special, especially not in that way.

      My heart is pounding so hard it sounds like drums in my ears. Then I notice that the booming is not just my heart. This whole stretch of red sand I’m lying on is shaking from this huge battle that’s raging just a couple of dunes over.

      I catch a glimpse of the fighting, but before I can really get a good look, the albino guy pushes my face down in the sand—’cause this whole place seems to be, like, one big red-sand beach. And, just then, the craziest idea comes into my head. I mean, crazy giving that I’m in peril of losing my life, or at least my virginity: Maybe that star I saw was actually a moon or something, a moon made of red-sand. The World Sea doesn’t have some kind of magical sand-dune moon that I don’t remember, does it?

      Anyway, the sand is red, and I’m eating it, ’cause the albino guy is trying to do something to me that I really don’t want to think about, though I can’t help thinking about it at the same time. And I want to scream, but he’s got the knife to my throat. I struggle, but I can’t struggle too much, ’cause the knife is pressing into my skin, and I don’t want to cut my own jugular while trying to get away, you know?

      I get lucky, though. I’m so wrapped up in the netting that mister would-be rapist can’t get to what he wants. He has to take the knife away from my neck, because I’m all tangled up ’cause of the struggling. Which means, I did at least one thing right!

      So he starts cutting his own net, and I manage to roll over, so I can see him. And I wish I couldn’t, ’cause he’s ugly and mean, but I know that my only chance is to face him … face to face. I’m trying like mad to remember that charm incantation from class last week, but I’m so worked up that I can’t even remember the first words.

      About all I can do is glare—which I’m good at, but doesn’t seem like it’ll help—or spit. So I spit and hit him right across the bridge of his hawkish nose.

      He smacks me across the face. I guess I should have expected that. And now I’m seeing stars as well as the two moons in the sky, which, being pinkish, would be very pretty if I weren’t about to get raped.

      He laughs.

      I try to spit again, but my head is spinning and all I can manage is drool, which I know isn’t dignified, but at this point, I figure anything that might make me less appealing to this goon is good.

      Then he leans over and his hot spittle spatters on my boobs, and I’m thinking that maybe drool is a turn-on for him, and I just made the last major goof of my life as a virgin.

      Did I mention that he’s naked, too, pretty much, except for some leather strapping to hold his knife and such? Well, yeah, he is, and I would really rather have been guessing at how much he’s liking all this rather than seeing the proof standing there before me. At that moment, my previous date—the married guy—isn’t looking so bad after all.

      Then something comes streaking across the sky. At first, I think I must be hallucinating, ’cause it looks like a man flying through the air straight toward us. Then I think that maybe that’s not so weird: He could be a wizard. They could have wizards on this world, too, couldn’t they?

      So, this wizard guy is flying toward us, and I’m thinking that today is just getting worse for me by the second.

      I guess I must look startled at seeing the flying man or something, because the albino guy turns toward this wizard, who’s touching down a dozen yards from us. And I’m thinking that, as bad as this is already, I definitely do not want my first time to be a group experience.

      But instead of joining his albino friend’s fun, this flying guy stares daggers at us. Suddenly, he and Mister Pasty-Face pull swords and charge each other.

      Which is great, because Skinny, Telepathic, and Pasty isn’t on top of me anymore, which gives me a chance to wriggle out of what’s left of the netting.

      As I finish freeing myself, though, I look up and Pasty-Face is hurling toward me again.

      I shriek and kick him as hard as I can.

      My foot catches him square in the gut, and he goes flying through the air as if somebody shot him out of a catapult. It’s only as he sails past that I notice blood is spraying from his mouth and he has a sword-sized wound through the center of his chest.

      That’s when I notice that the wizard—or whatever he is—is still standing. He looks as surprised as I am at the results of my kick.

      I take it you’re not from around here, he says.

      I smile. ’Cause he’s tall, and handsome, and muscular—definitely not a wizard, or if he is, he’s the buffest one I’ve ever seen. I sputter, Nope, because I can’t think of anything else to say right at that moment.

      A first time for everything.

      Yeah, I guess. Did I mention he was naked, too? Well, as naked as Mister Pasty-Face, but—Woof!—a much better deal any day of the month. All he’s wearing is a leather harness, a dagger, and a smile. And somehow I don’t feel too concerned about the blood-stained sword in his hand. It’s the albino’s blood, by the way.

      In fact, now I’m really trying to remember that charm spell, because losing it to this guy … well, that’d make this whole thing a trip worth taking.

      I’m still sitting on my ass in the red sand, and he gazes down at me—almost amused like—and says, You don’t look like anyone from Mars I’ve ever seen.

      Okay, I’ve seen some hunks like this guy in the Blue Kingdoms before, but never this close. Did I mention I’m really unlucky with guys? I want to say something clever and memorable to him, but all that comes out is a little squeak.

      You gotta remember that I’m naked, too, and—despite what you may think you know—that is not my normal state in mixed company. So, at that moment, I’m really glad that women don’t show their interest in … you know … in the same way men do, ’cause I’m embarrassed enough as it is.

      Wouldn’t you know it, though, he doesn’t seem interested in me that way—and I still can’t remember the start of that darned charm spell!

      He glances at my pointed ears. Nor do you look quite like anyone I’ve ever seen on Earth.

      I suddenly become aware of his gaze—his totally hot gaze—taking in every inch of me. Every single inch. I blush and try to cover up a bit, but he merely holds out his hand to help me up.

      Martians don’t have modesty, he says, not the reds, the greens, the whites, or any of them. Since you’re here, it’d be best to adopt their attitudes. It will make it easier for you to fit in. ‘When on Mars...’ to paraphrase an old saying.

      He smiles at me again, and I guess that saying is some kind of a joke, but I don’t get it. So I take his hand, still trying to fight down my blush, and he gently lifts me to my feet.

      You’re lucky I spotted that Thern attacking you, he comments. He’s standing so close to me that I can feel the heat of him.

      I decide to throw caution to the wind. If he doesn’t want to be modest in this crazy situation, why should I? I decide to flaunt what I’ve got. I put my arms around his neck and lean into him. His body feels incredibly warm. He feels incredible.

      Incredibly lucky, I reply, batting my eyes.

      Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best pick-up attempt of my life, but, hey, I was a zillion leagues from home on some strange moon or planet or something. And I was naked and soaking wet, and I’d nearly been raped and/or killed, and I was with a strange—but impossibly attractive—man, a human, from everything I could see. And believe me, I could see everything.

      Then, a female voice says, Is she injured, John Carter? and I nearly jump out of my skin.

      I turn and spot this red-skinned woman astride the back of … well, I don’t know what it is, but she’s riding it as though it’s an eight-legged horse (though it’s much uglier than a horse). Of course, she’s a stone-cold knockout, dressed only in glittering jewelry. She’s holding a pair of daggers, and strapped to one shapely hip is what I assume must be some kind of firearm. She looks straight into my big green eyes, and at that moment I don’t need telepathy to get her meaning about tall, dark, and handsome:

      "This one is spoken for."

      Dragon scales! Doesn’t it just figure?

      I don’t believe so, my princess, the man, John Carter, I assume, replies.

      All my renewed hopes for a weekend rendezvous are screwed at this point—again. I disentangle myself from him, though every inch of my naked body is aching not to.

      What is she? the Princess asks him. At first, I mistook her for some type of Thern, but she’s not quite pale enough. Is she one of your race, my love?

      The hunk shakes his dark-maned head. Similar, my princess, but I believe she comes from another world entirely. Then, to me, he says, Where are you from, girl?

      I hail from the Blue Kingdoms. Most recently from a city called Lemagne, near the Kingdom of Narosh.

      How are you called, woman of Le-main? the Princess asks.

      Faylicia. And then I add, Princess Faylicia of Lemagne.

      All right. Don’t snort! I know it maybe wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but I didn’t feel up to being completely outclassed by the curvy red girl. And, besides, how were these two ever going to know I was fibbing?

      The man bows slightly, which makes me tingle a bit, despite the woman’s stern look. I am John Carter, formerly of Virginia, but now a warlord of the planet Mars, which the people here call Barsoom. And this is Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium.

      I give a little curtsy, which seems stupid, since I’m totally without clothes. Her Highness nods in return.

      Then if she is unharmed, we should return to the battle, my love, she says. Our army needs us. The forces of the Holy Therns are desperate and making their final push. If we can break their lines now, they will be finished.

      A gleam comes to Carter’s eye, though I can’t tell whether it’s because of his love for the princess, or battle, or both. Damn, he’s hot!

      Are you battle trained, Princess Faylicia? Dejah Thoris asks.

      Of course, I squeak.

      But you can’t fight! You can barely even conjure!

      I know that! But I was already looking bad enough next to the red goddess, and I didn’t want to look any worse. Besides, I was starting to think that this was maybe some kind of dream, and that I was actually dozing peacefully in the pool of Issus. I mean, how could any of what had happened tonight be real? And in dreams, you can do these really amazing things that you can’t do in real life.

      She gave that Thern a kick that might have finished him—if I hadn’t beaten her to it, Carter says with a slight smile. His praise sends a shot of warmth from my loins to my brain. Even if I’d wanted to admit my lies before, there is no way I’m going to do it now and have His Hunkness lose respect for me.

      No. Far better that you should die, rather than lose face.

      Exactly. I’m glad you understand.

      I suspect she comes from a planet similar to my own, Carter says to the Princess. Then to me, In Barsoom’s lesser gravity, my Earth-born muscles are capable of prodigious feats. I suspect the gravity on your planet has endowed you similarly.

      Well, sure, I agree. That makes sense.

      But you didn’t understand a word he said!

      Tsk! You don’t have to understand a man to agree with him! Don’t you know anything about dating? I figured he was just talking about my boobs. After all, he used the words prodigious and endowed and bazooms, and the twins are hanging out in front of god and goddess alike in all their pendulous glory.

      Then pick up the sword of the fallen Thern and join us! the princess commands, and without waiting for my response, she turns her beast and gallops away at top speed.

      Carter nods his agreement and then—and this is, like, really amazing—he leaps off toward the battle, easily clearing two dozen yards with each stride.

      I pick up the dead man’s sword.

      It’s surprisingly light, and I’m thinking that’s maybe what Carter meant with whatever he was saying about muscles while he was praising my breasts.

      The thought sends a thrill through me. Back home, I’m a mouse—a pretty good-looking mouse, but a mouse. Here though, in Bazoom-dreamland, maybe I can be a lion.

      Clutching the sword, I follow Carter and the Princess of Bazooms—which I can totally see why they’d make her royalty for that rack—into battle. And I almost can’t blame him for preferring her over me. Almost. So I bound away after them, just like Carter did.

      At least, that’s what I mean to do.

      Only it doesn’t work so well. Is total failure supposed to happen in dreams?

      I nearly break my ankle coming down from my first jump. I hit hard on my left foot, kick up a huge cloud of red dust, and go careening off in a different direction than I intend. The sword may feel light, but it’s throwing off my balance something fierce.

      I spin through the air in an awkward pirouette, barely managing to get my feet under me as I hit again, and go shooting sideways, just over the

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