Book Review: Fatal Fetish edited by Toneye Eyenot

Fatal Fetish edited by Toneye Eyenot

Review by Voodoo Lynn

Fatal Fetish is an interesting amalgamation of stories. You get everything from encounters in space to serial killers and sexual cannibalism to clowns, mechanical Jekyll and Hyde’s, yeti, goblins, djinn, redheads, and A.I. I learned new terms like ‘sissygasm’. The stories were engaging on various levels; obviously, some more than others.  Let me also add that there are stories here that you will want to have ready access to a computer because the jargon utilized was such that I was completely unprepared for it and would’ve been lost had I not have been able to look the words up. It did make for a more culturally diverse read, I will admit.

There are plenty of stories here that make the ones you don’t care for, well worth the read. In fact, you may end up losing time over the ones you like, as I did. Let it be noted, that the ones I liked or were most disturbed by, had me re-reading them a second time, with the more lurid passages having me pass over those words again and again—solely for comprehensive purposes, of course.

So please, allow me to escort you into the world that is Fatal Fetish

“Biscuits and Gravy, Those Wicked Little Things” by Essel Pratt

This is the first story in the anthology. Perhaps, I have a weak spot for science fiction, thanks to my father and my early exposure to Star Trek. Perhaps, it appeals to my deep fascination with space and all its dark mysteries and frontiers.  Perhaps, it just appeals to my deep seated fascination and ultimate dream of, not only traveling in space but, to also engage in naughty activities while in said vicinity of it. Yes, that is an active interest of mine. This story however, gives me a very grim and real look into the dangers of space. (Thanks a lot E. Pratt, as if Mary Roach didn’t do enough of that!)

I don’t say this lightly. I have thought about all the possible consequences about having such relations in space however, this story doesn’t necessarily focus on that for me—though that is definitely something you can’t miss. What it does highlight for me is how distracted we humans can become if we are otherwise engaged in other immersive activities. What this author has done is manage to engage you in what seems like an everyday, happy go lucky story of two extraordinary people who have feelings for one another, who finally engage in said feelings and pay a most terrible price for it.

Oh, did I mention that this story takes place all within five pages? The author deftly pulls you in (even though you know you’re gonna read something horrific shortly) and then, hangs you out to dry, shall we say?

If you are a fan of “Guts” by Chuck Palahniuk, you are way ahead of the game here. If you are unfamiliar with this, don’t look it up if you wanna be surprised by this story! It’s urban legend meets science fiction.

In the end, this was my favorite story. It was shorter than I liked, but it sucked me in with its straight forward and descriptive, albeit disturbing detail.

“Life-Like” by Brian Glossup

This is my next favorite story and it also happens to be one of the longest in the anthology. It is so worth reading, especially if you like to be left questioning things. At first you think of it as a story about a lonely, older man in middle management and his needs, who decides to buy a sex-bot.  You will find yourself questioning not only what is moral, and what should be expected when we purchase something, but where our rights end and where someone else’s begins. Or, do they even begin? Is there even a ‘someone ’?

Although, the lead character gives us hints that he may not be want we think.  In the story we follow Malcolm as he goes to the company headquarters and places an order for his sex-bot. We know it’s a machine but, as he starts picking out her personality and, I’ll just call them her ‘parts’, things start getting really creepy.

The president of the bot company makes it a point to inform Malcolm that she is capable of learning and feeling, due to her electronic brain and that it’s best to keep her happy for “maximum satisfaction”. As he’s chooses her personality, the president inputs “SLAVE-MAID-COOK-SLUT”.  Yup, I don’t like this guy anymore but, it’s just a machine, right? Property he’s paying for. When we decide to buy a new computer, we decide what programs we want installed, right?

I find it interesting when reading about how the sex-bot, ANNA, views her new master, she makes an immediate judgement call that I wonder how she is capable of making in the first place. (I mean, she didn’t go to Robot University. GO ANDRIODS!) When we get a general description of him, we’re told that

“His best shirt was stained and his good pants were ripped. He was overweight, overpaid and unattractive. The typical American.”

Damn. Where did that come from? Aside from the fact I find that a little insulting to a whole group of people, my question is, how did she come to this conclusion, fresh out of the box let’s say?

Poor ANNA. What comes next in her short life thus far is hours of brutalization. Her skin is so life like, that she is left with bruises all over her body. As the author tells us,

“Every inflicted pain was felt and processed through her electronic nervous system…teaching her positronic brain of his civilized barbarism.”

We see a new level of sentience beginning to form. She watches TV and learns about the ‘horrors of humanity’ until she discovers a channel where a woman is speaking about women’s rights and power. She has now reached a level of consciousness that makes her realize the true horror of her existence as a sex-bot.  It’s here that she begins to plan a way to forever escape this situation. The climax of the story takes place next and, it is electrical. And violent. And disturbing. And unlike anything I’ve read before.

It is at this point find myself starting to think about what criteria we utilize to say with certainty, that something is alive? Had Malcolm treated ANNA better, more like a sentient being shall we say, would she have really been happy in her new existence? She seems to have free will and is capable of making decisions, even if it’s via execution of various computer programs.  She’s intelligent and self –aware, don’t those things constitute a living being?  It reminds me of Star Trek TNG’s episode “Measure of a Man.” In it, Commander Data (an android) is being forced into a dangerous procedure to study his positronic brain and to hopefully, create a whole new generation of androids like him. He tries to refuse, and Star Fleet orders him to do it anyway. He resigns, and is then told he can’t because he is Star Fleet ‘property’. He then has a hearing to determine his status with Star Fleet, to determine whether he is a sentient being and has rights, or not and just property. There’s this fantastic dialogue between Captain Picard and Guinan and she mentions that there has always been disposable creatures—beings whose welfare and needs wouldn’t have to be bothered with—a whole generation of disposable people.

Isn’t that what we are dealing with this story? Is ANNA property, or is she a sentient being with a conscience? Did that company create a whole generation of slaves?  I think I can sum up the horrifying end of this story by utilizing a quote from Captain Picard with regards to whole generations of disposable people and the term ‘slave’.

“I don’t think that’s a little harsh, I think it’s the truth. But that’s a truth we have obscured behind a comfortable, easy euphemism. ‘Property’. But that’s not the issue at all, is it?”

If only Malcolm had heeded the warning he was given…

“An Excerpt of Yeti, Yearning” by Essel Pratt

I just wanted to give this one a mention because I find the idea of thinking like a sexually aroused Yeti interesting. This unusual story piqued my interest and I wish that they included a little more in the excerpt.

“Send in the Clowns” by Naomi Matthews

This one is a good one about psychopaths. In this case, a female with an obsession with sex and clowns. This is something I enjoy seeing—a strong, female, character being the antagonist. It’s interesting to read about how she slowly indoctrinates her boyfriend into becoming her sex-slave. Her reason for choosing him was pretty simple—he, and her last ex, both had a history of being jerks to women and not treating them well. Understandable yes, but that gives her no right to do what she does. The lengths she goes to, to get her boyfriend to be her permanent clown boy-toy is truly frightening and well worth reading about. I also want to mention that this is the story where I learned the new word ‘sissygasm’. A word that I never wanted to learn and now will never be able to forget.

If you are someone into reading about fetishes and horror, Fatal Fetish is for you.

Author Alexandra Christian

me and amy (2)
For our finale, coming October 17th, our very own Dan Shaurette interviewed Alexandra Christian. Alexandra is an author of mostly paranormal erotic romance and horror.  She explains her writing as, “I write about not-so-nice girls getting it on with out-of-this-world heroes. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, angels, and demons.”

A self-proclaimed “Southern Belle from Hell,” she’s a native South Carolinian who lives with an epileptic wiener dog and a pet ghost hunter. She’s published several novels, novellas and short stories with Ellora’s Cave, Purple Sword Publications, Mocha Memoirs Press and most recently, Seventh Star Press. She’s also a rabid fangirl and lover of pop culture.

She’ll be talking to Dan about her books and everything that inspires her.

To find out more about Alexandra, go to:


Monster Erotica, Really? – It’s a Thing

Monster Erotica, Really? – It’s a Thing

by Dee Blake

tlflatearthWhile some people don’t like to admit it, many have read some form of erotica in their lifetime.  Sometimes it’s racy modern BSDM, other times it’s historical bodice-rippers, or maybe even madame ” tell-alls”.  But you’ll also find cross-genre offerings of this type as well: fantasy, paranormal or horror erotica in a variety of themes and formats.  Erotica is for everyone who happens to be interested – including those who prefer speculative fiction.

Amongst novels and anthologies of this nature, there’s a niche sub-genre that appeals to those who like their sexy scary and scaly or hairy, an interesting domain known as cryptozoological or monster erotica.  What exactly is this and where might you find it?  Read on and I’ll elaborate.

We’ve all heard legends of vampires, demons or certain fairy creatures getting down and dirty with the common man or woman.  They are the seducers of lore, luring potential prey in with their magical charms, bewitching their victims with their sexy wiles.  That’s the traditional monster erotica fare that you’d expect to find in trendy paranormal romance.   But monster erotica also involves something of the unexpected as well.

My first introduction to this type of erotica was via the tamer folk tales of fairy intruders making nightly visits to human lovers and the dark fantasy of Tanith Lee’s Flat Earth Series which delves into the realm of demon lovers.  It does have glimpses of demon passion, but the story is more fantasy than erotica (recommended reading).

I also encountered the occasional monster tale in the Hot Blood horror erotica anthology series, but the stories in those books are not exclusively monster-themed.  They are, however, a lot of fun.

Beyond that, I discovered the monster-exclusive erotica books out there, dedicated to naughty close encounters of a different kind – and apparently, they sell like hotcakes (see the i09 article and Goodreads has a list dedicated to it) And writers don’t stick to the traditional legendary seducers either.  You’ll find a diverse offering of creatures, from well-endowed yeti to shape-shifting dragons, from melancholy mermen to monsters under the bed (I mean, if they’re hanging out there, why not invite them up? Right?)

Despite its apparent popularity, the sub-genre has not been without its controversy.  There are those out there who see it as odd, disturbing or questionable to some degree, and Amazon has played hardball with authors, questioning whether or not their content was in violation of Amazon content guidelines.  That may have slowed production down somewhat, but it certainly hasn’t stopped it.  It’s a matter of demand and supply, after all.

Obstacles aside, I believe monster erotica is here to stay.  Silly or serious, it offers a novel form of escapism that is both titillating and a little terrifying. As long as readers keep asking for it, I think writers will be willing to provide.

I mean, if you’re going to fantasize, why not go all the way?


DBDee Blake is an emerging erotica writer whose work has been published on and in Apokrupha’s Fur and Fang anthology. She aspires to be the next Anais Nin.

Happy Valentine’s Day from

Happy Valentine’s Day, addicts! For your reading pleasure we have a sinfully delicious, naughty tale by our friend Chantal. Enjoy. 🙂


by Chantal Boudreau

He wasn’t the first.

She remembered him as he was when she initially brought him home.  She had found him repugnant.  She had purposefully picked out the homeliest goth at the event: short, balding, pudgy, pale in a “too much time spent under office lighting” way – waxy and gray – rather than the moonlight pale of the ghostly shroud of death.  His clothing hadn’t fit properly, bulging in places and pinched in others, possibly loaners and cheap either way.

She hadn’t minded any of it.  If all went well, she knew she was going to make him beautiful.  Her prize well won.  He hadn’t failed her.  She expected flaws in the beginning.  All canvases started as stark, coarse and somewhat bumpy.  The art was in what you made of them.

The men she always chose were there in hopes of picking up some socially-awkward goth chick, maybe one into kinky sex.  They never anticipated being approached by the raven-haired beauty known by the moniker “The Tattoo Princess.”  She was a gift, a treasure found, a dream come true.  She was a legend.

Her name did not come only from the black lace and feather tattoos that adorned her pearly skin.  She was an artisan, a practitioner of the inky arts herself, renowned for her piercing skills as well.  She intimidated them, cowed them with her conviction, her presence and her unyielding sense of self.

“Come home with me.”

None of the men had ever refused her request, even if some of them appeared ready to faint at her demand.  She set out the lure and they followed without question.  She never had any trouble enticing them even though she frightened them.

She offered them her body, a willing sacrifice until she had transformed them enough that she would want them in return.  After bedding them a few times, she lied.  She told them she loved them.  If this did not drive them off, she knew she had them.  Their fate was sealed.

This one was no different.  He had stayed.

She had waited a week after her declaration of love before telling him it was over.  She wanted to make sure he was thoroughly entwined upon her hook before she reeled him in by pretending to cast him off.

“You have to go – and don’t return.  I love you, but I have needs.  I can’t inflict that kind of suffering upon you.  I’ll find someone else I don’t care about.”

He gaped at her, lip quivering.  She knew that kicked-puppy, stolen-candy look.  It always preempted their offer.

“I d-don’t mind, Princess.  I’ll suffer.  Whatever you need, I’ll do it.  Just don’t make me go.”  He paused, his voice trembling.  “What is it you want?”

She pressed the flat of her hand against the cool glass pane of her window, a gesture to the crows that stepped stiffly through her yard.  They picked at the remains or something discarded there, scavenging from weathering bones.

“I want you to be like them…my pretty bird.”

He looked confused.  They always did.

“Promise me, and I’ll show you,” she continued.  “Swear it.”

He promised, so she led him downstairs to the cage, a massive construct of blackened steel that glinted in the dim light.

“That will be your lodging until I say otherwise.  As long as I’m in the room, you’ll wear the mask I’ll give to you.  And I’ll be using the tricks of my trade to transform you.  As I said, I need this, but this is a lot to ask in exchange for my love.  You still have one last chance to leave before we start this.”

He opted to stay.  He didn’t care.  He figured he had no life in the outside world.  She offered him infinitely more, even if it might prove temporary.  Even if it might prove his end.

She strapped him into the cage, pulled the charcoal feathered and beaked mask overtop his balding head and then worked his body into sweet oblivion.  He couldn’t say “no,” nor did he want to.

She left him there to sleep, returning later with drugged food.  Sedating him made it easier for her to work.  The ones she picked never had much tolerance for pain. She began by tattooing a feathery latticework across several portions of his body.  This took days, a foggy daze for him of sex and drugs, but a happy one despite the pain.

Next came the piercings.  She used the tattoo as a guide for their spacing.  Soon his flesh was dotted with tiny metallic balls, tiny mooring points for what was to follow.  Feathers – not mere images or synthesized facsimiles but real, glossy and black.  She no longer saw his pasty skin.  The feathers were all that mattered.

He had now been her willing captive for weeks, thinner and more muscular for the number of times she had ridden him.  With the mask, tattoos and piercings he was now entirely unrecognizable.  But once she slid the split-toed boots on his feet and finished attaching the hundreds of feathers she had brought in to adorn his flesh, he took on the appearance of a giant anthropomorphic crow.  There was very little left of the repulsive little man she had lured into her home.  What he was now was magnificent – at least as far as she was concerned.

Her ruby lips parted into a triumphant smile.  The transformation was complete and for the first time since she had brought him home, she took him with a hunger and a fervor she had never displayed before.  He seemed pleasantly surprised and lay moaning blissfully on the bottom of his cage when she was done.  She left him there, giggling quietly to himself at the absurdity of his situation.  But he had entered into it voluntarily and his euphoric mind did not regret it.

She wondered how long she would be able to indulge herself before his new form would begin taking its toll.  She had a tendency to frolic in a rough way.  Skin would tear, the piercings sometimes would get infected and then there was the time she overdid the sedatives.  If she was lucky, if she showed some self-control, he might last several months.  Long enough to satiate her appetites for at least a short time.  Long enough to use him up completely before discarding him in her fenced in yard.  She eventually would.

She had done this before.  After giving up trying to find the perfect lover, she went out and found the most malleable material to make one instead.  The end results got better with each try.  This one, in fact, was the best one yet.

And he wouldn’t be the last one, either.


Chantal Boudreau, an accountant/author/illustrator, lives in Nova Scotia, Canada. A Horror Writers Association member, she writes horror and fantasy, with multiple short stories and novels published to date. Her published tales of dark love include “The Godmother’s Curse” in
Postscripts to Darkness: Volume 5 and “Sanae’s Garden” in Chimerical World: Tales of the Seelie Court.  Find out more at


Horror Writing Month: SANDRA HARRIS




You could say that my ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA stories came about organically. They were the obvious next step on a journey that started over Christmas of 2013. I’m not kidding you, dear reader and fellow horror fan, when I say that the whole thing not only took me by surprise but it also kind of blew the roof off my head, turned me upside-down and inside out and set me back on my feet again as well, only this time with a specific destination in mind. This time, you could say that my feet knew exactly where they were headed.

A short season of late-night Hammer Horror films during Christmas 2013 unlocked a part of me that I’d only previously been aware of in a sort of hazy, peripheral way. It was a part that adored all things Gothic, things like ruined castles and abbeys, bloodsucking vampires and beautiful women with heaving bosoms who fall prey to all manner of monsters, ghouls and things that go bump in the night. I acquired a copy of Bram Stoker’s Gothic masterpiece, DRACULA, from my local Tesco when it came free with a daily newspaper. (The book, that is, not the supermarket.) I devoured it from cover to cover. I loved it, as surely anyone must who takes the time to read it.

Bram Stoker was Irish, same as myself, I told myself wonderingly afterwards. If he could do it, maybe I could do it…? Obviously not on the same scale, I reasoned. Probably not something that would be remembered in a century’s time like Stoker’s DRACULA but maybe something a bit sexy, a bit titillating, something that gave people a kind of illicit thrill when they read it…? Sexy and titillating I can definitely write. Hell, sexy and titillating I was born to write. Hmmm. It was food for thought, anyway.

lee-5I watched and re-watched all the Hammer Horror DRACULA films I could get my grubby little mitts on. Hammer Horror, by the way, is the name given to the horror movies made by the British film production company formed in 1934 by William Hinds.DRACULA (1958) is arguably Hammer Films’ most famous and successful production, created during the golden years of Hammer Horror. Christopher Lee, born in London in 1922, played Hammer’s Dracula in their superb series of films about the evil- but handsome- Transylvanian count.

Here we must depart from the strictly factual for a moment and move into the realms of personal opinion. Christopher Lee in his heyday was a big ride, as we say here in Ireland. Or, a big roide, if you want to be truly authentically Irish about it. He’s still a big ride, in my humble opinion, and always will be. In his role as Dracula, he is pure sex. If I were going to write my own little version of the famous story, he was always going to be my Count of choice. Ooooh, the things I could write about with Christopher Lee as my leading man! Ideas were formulating in my twisted and deviant little brain. Naughty ideas. Wickedideas. Erotic, kinky-as-f**k, downright filthy-dirty sex-meets-horror-meets-sex-again kind of ideas.

In June of 2013, I wrote my first piece of Dracula fan-fiction for a Creative Writing workshop I was taking. It went down well with the class, so I typed it up and put it on my newly-created horror movie review blog with the title ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA. The response was encouraging so I decided to keep going, just to see where the story would take me and how far I could go with it. At the time of writing this piece, I’ve written and posted over thirty instalments of the story and the readers and followers of my blog are still enjoying it and clamouring for more, so I’ve every intention of continuing to write it, at least until it comes to a natural and satisfactory conclusion. (Though I’ll be gutted when it does!)

drac_1513745c1Let me give you an overview of the plot. Lady Anna Carfax (yes, that’s a reference to Carfax Abbey!) is young, rich and beautiful and living in Victorian London in the time of fog-wreathed, gaslit streets, hansom cabs and Jack The Ripper. She lives a sheltered, fairly boring life and so she’s thrilled skinny when Count Dracula makes a nocturnal visit to her virginal bedchamber in the autumn of 1888. This period, by the way, is known to all Jack The Ripper fans such as myself as The Autumn Of Terror because of the murderous shenanigans of the aforementioned JTR, who gets a mention in the story. See, there’s a bit of actual history in there as well…! Anyway, Dracula is sternly handsome, commanding and authoritative and, the way I write him, he’s a stone-cold expert on female sexuality.

Dracula is responsible for Anna’s awakening as a vibrantly sexual woman with needs and desires that, naturally, only he can satisfy. (Clever bastard, isn’t he, fixing it that way!) In her bedroom at Richmond House, her family home, he teases her and toys with her until she’s practically begging him to take her away with him so that they can be together properly. When he eventually spirits her away to his heavily-fortified castle in a remote part of the English countryside, she is both fascinated and horrified to find out exactly what men and women do behind closed doors on their wedding nights.

Dracula takes Anna’s virginity, turns her into a vampire and instills in her a twisted desire for pain, sexual humiliation and physical punishment that only serves to complicate her life and ensure that she is further in thrall to her master, the Count, than is strictly good for her. (Thrall, that’s a real word, right…?!) As a woman, Anna submits to Dracula completely and utterly, but the newly-formed vampire in her needs to find an outlet too, and believe me when I say that that’s going to cause some problems down the line for the D-man…

ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA is peopled with an eccentric, sex-mad cast of characters who are in and out of each other’s beds with the single-minded determination of a dog who’s spied himself a particularly juicy cut of meat. We have Thomas Renfield, the young footman at Richmond House who’s so easy on the eye he’d be a Hollywood movie star if he were around today. He can’t make up his mind between Hester Price, Anna’s personal maid, and little Bessie Stoker, one of the kitchen maids, so he’s doing himself a favour and having them both.

Hammer Dracula Christopher LeeThere’s Sir Blaise Carfax, Anna’s older brother, who likes prostitutes, and rich, boorish swell Sir Daniel Rochester, who also likes prostitutes. It was Victorian London, okay? A lot of men liked prostitutes. Don’t blame me. Take it up with the Victorians, the prostitute-loving lot that they were. Now, if I may return to the subject of prostitutes for a moment… What? Oh, I never left it…? Oh, all right then. We’ve even got evil Nicholas Flint, who gets his kicks from strangling prostitutes and blaming it on poor old Jack The Ripper, and Vera Stoker, Bessie’s mother, who has to work as a prostitute in order to keep a roof over her kiddies’ heads and food in their hungry little tummies. Jeez Louise. Looking back, there was a whole heck of a lot of prostitution in Victorian times. You’d think somebody would have done something, wouldn’t you…?

Any-hoo, I’m including an extract from ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA in this blog post, but it won’t be sexually explicit so as not to offend the good people who prefer their horror to come without the dirty bits. If you want the full-on, undiluted version of the story, then go to my horror film review blog. You’ll find the links below in my author bio. I’m off now to think up yet another saucy situation in which a Victorian lady, gentleman or vampire- or prostitute- might find themselves. The possibilities, dear reader, are literally endless, the combinations and permutations stretching over the horizon to infinity. In other words, I’m going outside and I may not be back for some time. See you all in the next cartoon…



PART 31.

Count Dracula had changed into fresh linen and was combing his slicked-back dark hair, edged with grey at the temples, when Valeria quietly entered the room. No-one, not even the nude handmaidens who normally did all the cleaning and tidying of the castle, was allowed into Dracula’s private dressing-room except for Valeria. Not even Anna, who for the most part was confined to her bedroom while she impatiently awaited the Count’s nocturnal visits.

“Does my Master require anything?” Valeria murmured as she approached him now. At six feet five inches in height, the Count towered over her as he did most people. Valeria, though she had served him for a long time, was always struck anew by his sternly handsome appearance each time she encountered him.

His eyes were so dark as to be almost black, and they were magnetic. Magnetic and compelling. They made Valeria feel as if she could get lost in them. His cheekbones were high and sharp, a direct result of his Eastern European heritage.

His lips were well-shaped and his jaw perpetually shadowed with an imminent growth of dark stubble, though he shaved every evening upon waking. He was the most handsome and charismatic man Valeria had ever known, and also the most suavely dangerous.

The Count shook his head.

“Not at the moment, Valeria,” he said.

“Master looks fatigued after his trip,” ventured Valeria then. Only her long-standing as chief among his female servants emboldened her to make such a personal remark.

“It’s been a fatiguing few days,” the Count replied with a short, humourless laugh.

“How are things at Richmond House?” asked Valeria, referring to the house in London in which Lady Anna lived with her mother, Lady Grace Carfax, and her older brother, Sir Blaise Carfax. Had lived, Valeria corrected herself. Since her abduction by Count Dracula, Lady Anna now lived with Dracula in his castle in a remote spot in the English countryside, a place where it was unlikely she would be found. Unlikely, though not, Valeria supposed, impossible.

“Investigations into Lady Anna’s sudden disappearance are continuing apace,” Dracula replied with another short bark of a laugh. “Though not very successfully, I might add,” he went on as he fastened his cufflinks. “The Metropolitan Police are scratching their no doubt worthy heads in bafflement at the complexity of the case. I rather fancy that Lady Anna is quite safe where she is at present and that we have no immediate cause for alarm.” He had travelled to London incognito to check personally on the status of the investigation.

“That is indeed good, Master,” said Valeria. “And… and what of the new arrivals to Richmond House?” she continued, lowering her eyes demurely so that Dracula should not see the excitement in them. “Lady Athena Carfax and Lady Abigail Carfax? Did you… did you see them while you were there?”

“Yes, my dear Valeria, I saw them,” replied the Count, his dark eyes alight with mocking amusement. “And yes, they are as beautiful as you have heard. But no, I have no immediate plans to bring them here to the castle to join their pretty cousin, so you must swallow your disappointment as best you can and content yourself with being permitted the continued care of Lady Anna.”

Valeria flushed. She might have known that Count Dracula, who knew everything about her and who could read her thoughts as easily as if they were the printed word on a page before him, would be aware that she was desperate to get her hands on- and fangs into- the beautiful Carfax sisters, both cousins of Lady Anna’s.

Valeria’s preference in life had always been for soft, yielding female flesh. Lady Anna was truly a vision of beauty, but Valeria wanted the sisters too, and Count Dracula would not permit her to go to Richmond House to feast on them nocturnally there. She wondered if perhaps he was planning on keeping the delectable sisters for himself. It would not be the first time that that had happened.

Now she shrugged, feigning an indifference in which Dracula would be unlikely to believe.

“Is Master certain that he requires nothing further for the moment?” she said, easing the straps of her white Grecian-style gown down over her shoulders and baring her perfect, snowy-white breasts. “That he has no needs which he requires satisfying…?” she continued as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Needs which Valeria can perhaps assist him with…?”


This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental. This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.Sandra Harris. ©


sandra-1fixedSandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal.

She is addicted to buying books and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia, and would be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

Alexis and the Alien Tentacle


Press Release

Announcing release of latest Jake Keplin short erotic fiction story

Fourth in the series

Los Angeles, CA, January 22, 2014:  Sumaire Press has just released the fourth story in Jake Keplin’s erotic horror series, “…and the Alien Tentacle”, “Emily and the Alien Tentacle”. It is currently available for Amazon’s Kindle and on for multiple e-reader formats.

The “…and the Alien Tentacle” series relates the misadventures of humans who are unfortunate enough to encounter a tentacled alien species who want nothing more than to multiply and propagate their species across the universe. Previous entries include “Bella and the Alien Tentacle”, “Candi and the Alien Tentacle”, and “Alexis and the Alien Tentacle”.

Free Fiction Friday: Sips Of Blood

This weeks Free Fiction Friday selection is Sips of Blood by Mary Ann Mitchell. This book answers the question of what would happen if  The Marquis de Sade was a vampire and walked the earth during the present day. If your not familiar with Marquis de Sade he was a french philosopher who lived from 1740 to 1814. He was known for writing erotic stories depicting sexual fantasies with an emphasis on criminality and blasphemy against the catholic church.

According to the reviews I read Sips of Blood  is a disturbing book filled with lots of unconventional and graphic sex. There is also BDSM, gore and incestuous romance. I’ve read one book by Mary Ann Mitchell called Ambrosial Flesh. If this one is anything like that one, then the reviews I read are correct.

This book is the first in a series of 5 books by Mary Ann Mitchell staring Marquis De Sade  as a vampire.  If you would like your own copy of Sips Of Blood. Leave a comment on this blog post. The first comment gets the book.