Darknest: A Dark Fantasy Erotica Anthology

by J. M. Keep

  “Mmnh, ah – all yours, Julian’s doll, yeah…” Amy whined out in quivering moans. His pace quickened, smacking and pumping into her hard as he chuckled softly and held her tight, kissing her lips passionately.

  “That’s right, you’re my precious doll, Amy. I’ll even get you pregnant like this.” He promised, and Amy could feel her body twitch and clench around him, reflexively trying to suck him in deeper and harder as she listened. The pitch of her moans rose with that claim, just as his thrusts became more erratic and quick, bouncing and shaking her in every direction to bring her to that fuzzy peak – the only thing she could see from behind her blindfold.

  “Mmngh, J-Julian’s baby… y-yeah… give it to me, Julian, make a-aah… all of me yours!” Amy pleaded, shaking and moaning erratically as he thrust and smacked into her sex hard, her tongue hanging out as he took her to that blissful peak of orgasm with hard and jagged thrusts.

  “Nngh, I’m gonna cum, Amy, deep inside.” Julian whispered, only making her all the more enthusiastic for it as she quivered and bobbed her head encouraging, clenching with what of her body she did have control over, hung as she was.

  “Yeah, yes, y-aah!” Amy squealed, throwing her head back between her raised arms to howl in climax, her hips shaking and quivering as Julian’s cock throbbed and pulsed between her tight mounds, lashing her womb with thick and warm jolts of his cum.

  For moments after, the couple could do nothing but pant and rub against one another in the warm afterglow of sex before Julian finally took Amy’s blindfold off to meet her dizzy and unfocused gaze with a tender smile, patting her cheek and stroking the soft black hair out of her face.

  “You’re amazing, Amy. I love you.” He whispered gently into her ear, making Amy squirm and flush despite herself as she tried to close her gaping mouth and smile, bathing in the messy, visceral warmth of his love.

  “I love you too, Julian…” She breathed as he gently unbuckled the spreading bar that held her legs aloft, letting her stand on solid ground again before kissing her lips.

  “Wait here.” Julian instructed, though with her wrists bound there wasn’t anywhere she was going anyway, and nowhere she would rather be. Nodding with a quiet smile, Amy waited as Julian left her field of vision. It was only then that she remembered of the other girl in that big throne of a chair.

  She was at the other side of the room, still all but motionless. Why did she seem so frantic, though, why didn’t she move? Was she in bondage to the chair? That would have made sense if Amy could have seen any straps. Her foot had moved, and she didn’t look restrained.

  Whatever the case, the girl was a real mystery. Amy didn’t understand why she’d never seen or heard from her before. For that matter, she couldn’t hear the girl’s voice, for all she looked to be trying to speak. She couldn’t even imagine bondage that worked that way without a gag. Julian had never mentioned having another visitor or friend, either.

  It was with these thoughts running through her hazy, contented mind that one of the girl’s legs fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

  “What…?” Amy breathed, staring with wide eyes. The long-laced boot lay limp on the ground, fitted around a doll’s leg, complete with a ball-socket joint at the knee. But that made no sense…

  “Hey, if you’re not going to behave and go to pieces, I’m putting you in the case already…” Julian’s voice was back, but distant and stern. Amy’s shocked and confused eyes spun to him.

  “Julian? W-what is she…?” Amy breathed, blinking and trying to make sense of it all. Julian glanced back to her and sighed a little, picking the leg up and moving over to the case to unlock it and open. Inside was a deep, padded lining with four slimmer indents and a much bigger central block. Julian placed the leg into one of those four depressions and closed the case. Amy watched with morbid curiosity.

  “She’s a doll, Amy, nothing more, now. Don’t worry, she doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to those people you met that delivered her case. My job was only to create her.” Julian explained, as though it was the most normal of things.

  “Create? But… what?” Amy asked, her head fuzzy as she stared, the pieces refusing to fall into place properly.

  “Yes, I made her. I don’t ask for details and frankly the less I’m involved with them, the better, but she got on their bad side. Rather than just ‘dispose’ of her, she was sent to me to be changed into a doll. You can’t hear her voice because I had to see to her silence, too. There were dangers in doing it, of course, but they knew I could do it. If it somehow failed, then her death was the alternative choice anyway.” He explained, gently touching a hand to Angelica’s neck as the girl tried to lean away with gritted teeth and vivid terror in her eyes. She managed to do little more than tilt her head as she stared at him, her arms still quietly rested at her sides and one leg in the case.

  “It’s a life I wanted rid of. I was done being ‘the Doc’, but no matter where you go, you can’t get away from a ‘family’ like them. Perhaps it’s because I used the money to create what I have now that I can’t escape what I was, but I won’t let them take you, Amy. I heard what they said, and I know what they’re capable of, but I won’t.” Julian told her, walking over to Amy.

  Her mind reeled, whirled and throbbed. He had made Angelica into voiceless a doll? For those dangerous people, that could have taken her away? She didn’t want that, she didn’t want to lose Julian at all. The soft pin-prick in her arm only disrupted her thoughts for a brief moment as she looked to him, the one grounding presence in this crazy whirlwind.

  “You won’t let them take me?” She asked, her voice a wave of timid innocence as she tried to focus on his sharp features and those brilliant, passionate eyes she that let her loose herself. Julian smiled and shook his head, gently rubbing her arm and hugging her in against him to kiss her lips gently.

  “I won’t. I love you, sweet Amy. You will be my last, my one and only, my perfect doll. You’ve made me so proud, and I love you.” He whispered, that calming and soothing tone gently hugging her as surely as his arms. The bondage on her wrists came away, letting her lazily drape her arms around his shoulders to hug herself to him as he scooped up her legs and princess carried her, just like in a fairy tale. It was getting hard to stay awake, but she didn’t need to. She was happy to snuggle into his scent and fall asleep, right there.

  “I love you too, Julian… be your doll… only…” She murmured as she nuzzled into his neck, drooping into a quick and heavy sleep as he pushed open that closed door she hadn’t seen beyond, revealing a clinically well-maintained room full of medical devices, centred by a stainless steel table and bright white lighting.

  “You will be, Amy, I promise. My one and only.” He whispered to the sleeping beauty in his arms as he carried the princess across that threshold.

  Just like something out of a fairy tale…

  ~~

  A Note from Leona D. Reish

  This is a story I’ve wanted to write for some time, a little back-burner idea I had that didn’t really fit exactly how I wanted. Then Michelle Keep comes along and asks me about interest in an Dark Fantasy Anthology to support the Darknest Fantasy Erotica website. Themes would be things such as dubious consent, BDSM, breeding, kidnapping, etc. and I just thought hey… you know what? I know the perfect little stand-alone story I have for an occasion like that. A real dark one, too. ‘The Dressmaker’s Doll’ was born.

  Now before I talk about the book and how it may have creeped some readers out – I’m really sorry to the editor for one, whose notes turned into “this is terrifying.” – I want to talk a bit about Darknest and how I’ve ended up here. Seems an appropriate place to do that, right?

  Long time ago, in a galaxy far away… okay, no, but also yes. Those that know of Darknest would be hard-pressed to not know of World of Warcraft, and that’s how I first connected with the people, through ingame channels and erotic roleplay communities. It’s the sort of place you just always come around and check in o
n, and eventually I thought ‘why not share some of the erotic writing I’ve been doing?’

  I got into story challenges to mix things up and several of my earlier releases mention story challenges. Over the past year and more, it’s really been a sort of bastion and home for what I do and given a lot of support in the front of putting writing out there. J. & M. Keep have been fun people too, so it feels good to be involved in this anthology to represent and give something back to all that.

  Back to the story; now it’s done, I’m not sure what I want to say about it. I’ve very intentionally left a lot of things vague, ‘off-screen’ and open to let the reader’s mind run wild. That’s kind of why I don’t want to talk about it as much as I might. I’m probably not going to write a sequel or any follow-on, but I already want to write Angelica’s story arc outside this. Considering what it would include – as creative as it would be! – that might actually be too dark, though. I can never be sure on what’s really okay or the right mark to hit, so tell me what you think!

  It’s very much a ‘through the lens’ story with a sort of perspective-driven narrative, so a lot of things aren’t known or ultimately made such a big deal of because it’s filtering through Amy’s mind. Kind of like first person, but not.

  If it was through Julian’s eye, or more omnipotent third-person, it would lose quite a bit of what really makes it – especially the impact of the end. If this was Julian’s story it would be a lot more about his ties to that mafia organisation, his past with them as ‘Doc’, escaping his past and finding solace in another.

  That’s conveyed in part through just how quickly he gets passionate with Amy, finally having someone he can really get go on and how he opens up to letting her into the darker, kinkier side of his skills in costumes that he could never be publically associated with. Then that little element of his true past catches up, and it’s far too surreal for Amy to really grasp and understand through the haze of affection and bliss. Whether he really does go all the way and what he does to her, and the future beyond that point in the dark little fairy tale of sorts, I wanted to leave to the reader.

  There’s a saying that the less you see of something, the scarier it is, so maybe I wanted to apply and lean on that, too. It’s been a lot of fun to write all the same, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it! None of this would be possible without avid readers and the people at Darknest, so thank you for reading and being there since before any of this started.

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  THE BACKWATER LOOK

  By P.B. Tae

  Through the dark New England night crawled a filthy black automobile. To anyone trained in the automotive arts the sound that the car’s engine was making would have been highly alarming. A raspy, choking sound that spoke of failing mechanical parts direly in need of a good servicing.

  The vehicle’s two silent occupants were nervous and more than a little haggard thanks to the strain of the day. The car had been proving temperamental for the entirety of their New England odyssey, cutting out, refusing to start and generally being hideously unreliable at every step of their journey.

  It was the infernal automobile's contemptible fault that the two tired newly-weds were still on the road in the inky dark and driving rain. Its damned fault that they were not tucked up safe and warm in their matrimonial bed already.

  The man at the wheel stared ahead with frantic concentration. A pallid sheen of sweat smeared across his youthful forehead and plastered the young man’s neat black hair to his scalp. Underneath his black leather driving gloves his knuckles were white as he clutched on tight to the wide ring. His attention was completely fixed on the tiny oval of road illuminated by the weak headlights sweeping through the rain. Beside him sat his gorgeous blonde bride, reclining as best she could in the passenger seat. She was dressed for adventure in the latest American style, rugged russet fabric, jodhpurs and a waistcoat.

  Admittedly she was doing little to improve the matter of her husband’s mood. She had taken, rather irritatingly, to drumming her fingers upon the gleaming leather dash. The only relief to the constant patter came when she paused occasionally and checked her slender wrist watch. The glowing hands seemed to move with agonising slowness, crawling around the pearl-white face like a slug across salt.

  When both hands had shifted to point to one minute past twelve she sighed and pouted, then leaned forward to flip the date on the small paper calendar affixed to the dashboard. She stared through the gloomy light at the date and read it aloud.

  'December twenty fourth, nineteen twenty five. Christmas eve.' she sighed deeply. 'You know Charles, I think that with the benefit of hindsight, our idea of a tour of New England might have been a rather bad idea.'

  Charles smiled despite himself and risked tearing his attention from the road for a few moments.

  'Remind me to have a few harsh words with your father, Rebecca. This was his idea after all.' said Charles readjusting his hands on the wheel. 'Go to scenic Massachusetts he said...'

  'See the wonderful splendour of Ravensport he said...' chuckled Rebecca, playing along with her groom.

  'If that was wonderful splendour, then I'd hate to see what your father considers a dive!' exclaimed Charles. 'Let's hope that Burnham is a bit more of a bright spark. I've heard some positive things about the university there are least, so there's some hope for civilisation yet. An interesting collection of relics of unknown origin so they say.'

  Charles briefly turned from the wheel and made a spooky noise at Rebecca, wiggling the fingers of one hand in her general direction as he did.

  ‘Oh behave yourself Charles.’ said Rebecca with a roll of her eyes. ‘Still, to be spending Christmas in this miserable hell hole…You know, I don’t think I’ve seen an ounce of Christmas cheer in any of these towns and villages. It’s almost like that don’t believe in it.’

  ‘You’d have thought that in countryside as dismal as this they would do everything they could to try and liven things up a little.’ mused Charles. He returned his attention to the road, squinting at the weaving street laid out before them.

  ‘You know I think it's because mother came from some backwater around here, maybe he thinks I'll bump into her. He never recovered after she disappeared. I think he believes she’s still alive. Ran back to her old stomping grounds.' sighed Rebecca. She ran a pale finger under the gold chain about her neck, down to the small gilded crucifix hanging there. The movement was reflexive, but meaningful to her.

  'I doubt it. Your father isn’t exactly a poor or mean man…Look, don't worry darling, I'll make it up to you somehow. Maybe we’ll visit Europe in the summer?' suggested Charles. The idea seemed to suit Rebecca and she shifted happily.

  'Oh that'd be wonderful. I've always wanted to see London! Oh, and Paris! I hear Berlin is recovering well too.' mused Rebecca with a thrill of excitement. 'Daddy says that those National Socialist types will get the country running again after the crash if they can get into power. He’s been talking about making all manner of investments out there.'

  'The National Socialists? I don’t see them ever getting into power dear, bunch of thugs from what I hear. Pleasant thoughts aside, first we need to get through this debacle. I think we might be in luck though, dear, I saw some lights in the rain a moment ago. Looks like there's a town coming up.' said Charles hopefully. He readjusted his sweaty grip on the wheel and licked his dry lips. 'We need to stop for the night. I can't keep this damned car on the road much longer, not to mention I'm exhausted! Perhaps we can find a guest house, if not...well, we can catch a few winks in the back.'

  ~~

  They chugged into the rain and the darkness, with the automobile’s engine coughing and spluttering in protest. As the vehicle crested a bleak, drizzle-swept hill the muted lights of a brooding settlement came into clear view. The rain, driving as it was, made it hard to make out the extent of the township, but as the car ushered
them closer it became apparent that it was a fairly major town. Rebecca had fallen asleep by the time a sign loomed out of the darkness to announce the name of the place.

  Illuminated in the car's headlights, stained by age and mildew was the name of the town. Hemming’s Bay, it read, the once gaudy letters of the peeling placard faded by time and unmentionable decay. It drifted past the car like a spectre from the past. Charles followed it with his gaze and almost immediately drive straight off the road as it veered sharply to the left.

  He gasped loudly and clutched even tighter at the wheel. The near miss reinforced his desire to find a safe haven for the night.

  Charles shook his head in an attempt to banish his growing drowsiness. Without his beloved Rebecca's nattering conversation to keep him sane, the tired man was slipping further and further into the dark realm of the sleeper. He was decidedly grateful when the stuttering gas lamps started showing alongside the pavements.

  The rain on his steamed up windows and the glare of the bright gas flames made it impossible for Charles to see the dilapidated houses properly, nor the boarded up top floor windows that seemed to mar every single home. The fogging did little to dispel the feelings of unease that nestled within Charles’ breast however. There was a feeling to the place, unmistakable and strong.

  There was a certain decay in the air. It hung over the scuttling car like a shroud. The buildings, even those in the best of conditions seemed to be slouching. Bowing in under their own weight. Age hung heavy upon Hemming’s Bay and little, it seemed, had been done to maintain the colonial charm that the town might once have possessed.

  There were no lights in the houses and the gas lamps threw their sickly yellow hue across overgrown gardens and high iron fences encrusted with choking ivy. It looked for all the world as though the place had been abandoned, save for a few lonely and shabby cars parked by the roadside. The prospect of staying in such a place did not warm Charles. However, the notion of continuing on and trying for the next town held little excitement for him either.