by Sophie Mouette
Ladies and gentlemen, for your consideration, may we present a new anthology: The Mammoth Book of the Kama Sutra: The Fullest Ever Illustrated Collection of the Kama Sutra and Its Variants, edited by the illustrious Maxim Jakubowski.
There have been many published versions of the Kama Sutra. Translations. Illustrated versions, with lush pictures or cartoon how-to’s. There’s even a Complete Idiots Guide to it. It has fascinated us for centuries. So why yet another version?
Well, this one’s different. No, really, it is. Yes, there’s some history and discussion, some lovely black-and-white illustrations, all the usual. This one, though, has stories.
Contributors were challenged to pick a position and spin a tale of how that position came to be named what it was. What fun! It’s like writing a history lesson combined with a fairy tale, only with sex!
“The Tale of the Playing Elephant” was inspired by the “herd of cows,” a three-or-moresome involving one man several women. It’s more than a position, it’s a party—and I love a party! What truly intrigued me, though, was this snippet: “It is also interesting to imitate the elephants’ water games, the behavior of the he-goat, etc. One can amuse oneself with the women by imitating the water play of the elephant and cow-elephant, the bleatings of the he-goat with the nanny goat, or the behavior of a stag…The imitation of elephants’ water play is considered as being one of the amusements of the herd of cows.” (Quoted from The Complete Kama Sutra, translated by Alain Danielou, Park Street Press, 1994)
For me, great sex can involve laughter as well as intensity. (Okay, I admit it. We sometimes quote Loony Toons at each other in bed) What’s more intense than group sex? And what’s sillier than goofy animal imitations? How brilliant that the Kama Sutra recommends the combination! But what could have led those wise ancient Indians to this conclusion? It begged a story.
In my tale, three lonely, stressed-out women meet up with a playful younger man down by the river, and one sort of fun leads to another:
The fire of Jaimala’s lust cooled a bit in the face of the more immediate need for playful revenge. Older than Vikram or not, she was not so old that she’d forgotten the cardinal rule of water-fights: Keep them going until everyone involved is wet, laughing, and gasping for breath. “Ladies,” she said, “get him!”
And they did.
At first they were just splashing.
Then Vikram dunked Jaimala.
Adarna had resolved there would be no touching, but some things were not to be borne, so the three women ganged up and dunked him.
And it was all innocent and playful, and yet it wasn’t, because every time Vikram looked at the women, his eyes were full of desire as well as mischief, and every time the women looked at him—or at each other, for that matter—it was the same. And when they touched, even in jest, they all felt the heat.
Then, somehow, they fell into to doing elephant imitations—spraying each other and trumpeting and laughing like children. “If we’re all elephants,” Vikram said between bouts of laughter, “that makes me the bull elephant and you the cows. And you know what that means.”
“You protect us fiercely from hunters and tigers?” Adarna suggested, trying desperately to lead them back to safer territory. Vikram snorted.
“In any case,” Jaimala said, drawing closer, “You’re not a calf anymore, but I’m not sure you’re the lead bull yet. One of the young ones around the fringes of the herd, perhaps, waiting his turn with the females.”
“That’s not very kind.”
“Answer me honestly,” Jaimala asked. “Do you know what to do with one woman, let alone three?”
He sputtered. Looked away and then looked back again, meeting each women’s eyes before he answered. “One woman, yes, although I’m sure I still have much to learn from the right teacher—or teachers. Three women would be a challenge, but it would be a challenge I’m willing to die trying to meet.”
Dayle (writing as Andrea Dale)
When I saw the call for submission for this anthology, I knew immediately which position I wanted to write about: the Tigress (sometimes also called the Tiger). See, Teresa and I have been working on and off on an alternate-Victorian-England/India paranormal erotica project, and the heroine of the novel is an Indian demi-goddess, being the product of a union between Budhi Pallien, goddess of the northern forests, and a human man.
What led Budhi Pallien to lie with a human? Okay, maybe he was just too delectable to pass up—that’s perfectly understandable. But why would she go so far as to bear his child? It was a story that needed to be told.
Even a goddess can lose her heart.
But first, she’ll take her pleasure….
It is one thing to be brave—it is another to be overconfident.
She was the goddess of the forest, and thus she had dominion over it. At her unspoken commands, thick vines twined their way in beneath the archways and down along the columns. They reached into the air and wrapped around Duranjaya’s wrists, drawing his arms above his head.
Anchoring him in place. Leaving him stretched and vulnerable to the deity’s whims.
He had heard of such games before, but never played them, and indeed he had only briefly considered them with the thought that the woman would be at his mercy.
Now he was helpless, and to his surprise, it was not an unwelcome sensation at all, even as he knew Budhi Pallien would not be gentle and was unlikely to be truly merciful.
She stalked him still, sizing up her prey, and yet all he could think of was that even if he died in the end, his last moments would be in ecstasy.
Her hand cupped the fullness of his sac, measuring, considering. She trailed a single nail along the underside of his cock, from base to tip.
He bit back a moan, but the twitching of his member revealed all he felt. Budhi Pallien laughed, low and sultry, almost a tiger’s rumbling purr.
“I am glad my lingam pleases you,” Duranjaya said, although the throbbing of his blood in his veins and the need for relief made it hard for him to speak. “It is but yours to use as you see fit.”
He hoped that would be soon.
She laughed again. “Foolish man,” she said. “You are mine to use as I see fit—all of you….”
The Mammoth Book of the Kama Sutra also contains stories by Nikki Magennis (another beloved ex-Lustie), who spins for us The “Tale of the Thunderbolt”; friend-of-Lusties Michael Crawley, who enthralls us with “The Tale of Dvitala,” and 20 other fine and inventive writers.
Friday, October 3, 2008
by Sophie Mouette