Dark Fantasy/Horror Action Romance
Date Published: December 23, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
be… different.
Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing — until she
met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they
defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop
running.
In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness — Joe. The hard-as-nails woman
becomes Joe’s willing sub — his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but
Sarah has even darker fantasies — lurid, sensual and totally submissive.
Sometimes, they even come to life.
Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of
nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure.
Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The
pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.
limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re
looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!
Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated
three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by
her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches,
honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.
Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger.
And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as
he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.
Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But
this wasn’t really about Joe…
Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then
was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her
walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing…
please, please, please.
Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he
stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he
dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at
him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of
the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free
hand.
Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water
streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed
heavily, staring at his cock.
“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my
seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made
you scream my name.”
Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe
to… rescue…
Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…
The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that
THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the
fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly
spider arms reached for her…
Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger
than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.
Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.
Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the
icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?
She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the
warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her
nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths
of his lair.
“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A
ritual. A spell.
Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her
back, presenting her full tits.
I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a
purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?
Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect
cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it.
Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.
Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with
a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.
Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep
stroking yourself!”
She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to
obey. I want more!
“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg
for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge
into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”
Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard,
pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes!
Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”
She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart,
driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black
depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her
legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came
and…
Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees
spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts
as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed
the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole
body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched,
groaning.
“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for
anything else.”
Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.
Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height
and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various
implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s
only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.
Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You
have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that.
Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.
Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you
maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”
Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and
trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up
erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they
don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about
slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.
He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up
with her because she makes great cookies.
We don’t know why she puts up with him.
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