Bloody Sexy
An anthology of dark erotica and
erotica horror
Stories collected and edited by
Carmilla Voiez
Published by Hot Ink Press
This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
©Text Copyright 2014
Photographer:
Loris Marseglia Photography
Model:
Lana Love-heart
Cover By
Riley Steel
Edited By
Elizabeth A. Lance for Hot Ink Press
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.
Dedicated to all you fellow perverts who enjoy a touch of darkness with your sexy.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Back-draft
Restless Spirits
Sex Magic
Fight or Flight
Predator and Prey
The Last Dance
The Queen of Hearts
In the Dark
Like Mushrooms
Cup Cake Cat
Beneath the moon
Hungry Like the Wolf
Bringing Me Alive
Hamilton Tales
Hitched
For the Lust and Love of It
Whispers
For a Yueji's Smile
The Fallen Ones
Bird Feed
Zofia's Secret
Blood Drenched Eyes
Tonight
Golden Moments
Authors' biographies
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Loris Marseglia Photography and model Lana Love-heart for the wonderful cover image, to Sarah Jayne Davis for her faith in my talent as a writer and to Elizabeth Anne Lance for her tireless editing. I'd also like to thank all the writers who helped make this anthology so amazing. My daughters for feeding themselves and keeping themselves amused while I worked on the manuscript and my sweet Scream, who supports me in everything I attempt.
Back-draft
by XXX ZOMBIEBOY XXX
Tayler did not believe in Hell. Though in such an inferno it was hard not to. The flames engulfed every visible structure and the smoke obscured most of the flame. Breathing hard through the mask, she searched for many things at once. First, for anyone that may still be drawing breath. Second, for any load bearing structure that may be significantly weakened. And finally, for any available escape that at the last second may be needed. She moved systematically through the upper floor. Testing each door before taking it down with the axe. Fire was a sly demon. Sly as the imagined devil her Southern Baptist parents had tried so hard to drill into her head as her life’s one true enemy.
They had been partially correct. The fires of Hell had indeed become the very enemy they had envisioned. Though no devil ruled the flames. The flames were chaos. A demon that always escaped its creator and ran wild from even the smallest spark.
Tayler battled that demon head on. Rushing straight into it time and again. Had in fact felt that demon caress her flesh. Its lover’s finger having left a slender trail up her left flank like claw marks. This did not to dissuade her. Instead it made her more fierce. As her close friend, Cassie, had said over drinks one night in Boston, “That which does not kill you, had better start running!”
****
Tayler had escaped her bitter childhood and the small town of Monticello for the sprawling mazes of the city. She had not known her true course until she had made her way from the south into the high towers and never sleeping streets of New York. There she had seen the Two Towers come down. Had witnessed the horror and confusion as well as the strange bonding that brought everyone together if only for a short time.
From those ashes a phoenix emerged. Truly a bird of the fire. A girl who was beautiful, but also powerfully strong and stubborn. Nothing made her quit when she set her mind on a goal. And in the chaos that came with bitter destruction, she had realized her true calling. She was to become a Fire-woman.
That strength of will and dogged determination won out over the adversity that came with seeking a career in a male-dominated field. She was laughed at, teased and harassed but only at first. She ran faster than any of the men in her classes. Though smaller, her strength was every bit equal to theirs. They watched in awe as she raced up the training tower, axe in one hand with one of her training mates draped over her shoulder and, just to make a point, she carried him all the way back down.
Not long after, the catcalls stopped. The jeering stopped. And when the last obstacle crossed her path, a particularly old fashioned minded Chief named Erickson, her entire training class stood behind her and championed her as one of them.
She joined NYFD Station #15 four months later and within another four months she had gained a reputation, not only for courage but also for a blatant lack of self preservation when other lives were at stake. Twice she had run into a building nobody else would enter. Twice she had saved multiple lives. Twice she had been disciplined for her actions and then almost within hours awarded medals of bravery and fortitude.
It was after this second award that she had been interviewed by MJ for the New York Times. MJ whose lips had glistened as she spoke. Whose lips Tayler would caress and surrender to not five hours later after they met for drinks in Manhattan.
She had always suspected her heart would go to another of her own sex. Growing up where she had, such embraces had seemed impossible. And she had allowed a few boys to paw at her and fumble awkwardly at her, but it had been shallow and unfeeling. When MJ invited her in, slipped Tayler out of her clothes and touched her, the caresses had been gently gliding waves of passion over her starving skin. MJ's deep and sensuous kisses had been like silken hands over her starving heart.
Here in this enormous city, far from her small town, she had at last found her place. She had found not only acceptance, but also compassion and a love that could not be defined with words.
MJ showed her every hidden jewel in the city of stone. She awakened in Tayler every formerly forbidden desire, unleashing a passion withheld from puberty. MJ in turn had never been with anyone so hungry, so enthusiastic and searching. Tayler seemed to want every inch of her like someone parched in the desert finally finding a spring.
They moved in together to a converted warehouse loft. They spent every night enthralled, rioting in each other’s flesh whenever Tayler was not at the station or MJ was not out reporting. They went to rock and roll shows. Tayler eventually started her own band, once more defying her parents with surly southern flavored devilish rock and roll.
Then the demon intervened and she was trapped in a building under a collapsed staircase. The flames she fought embraced her, licking up her side with the same passion as MJ.
Attending doctors told her she was lucky. Though she would carry the bear claw scars all her life. Tayler had not feared much in life, but she feared MJ’s reaction. At first she refused to show MJ, afraid that such scars
would rob her of her sensuality. Months later in their shared bed, Tayler finally dared to show herself, feeling as nervous as she had the first time she had shown MJ her body.
MJ’s eyes had grown wide, but what Tayler had at first mistaken for horror was in fact exaggerated lust. And as MJ licked up her side, sliding her tongue over the scars, Tayler thought she would die from the overwhelming love she felt, mingling with the unquenchable lust she carried for her lover.
Now, here she was, facing those flames once more. The demon her mother had feared, personified. The Turtle Bay tenement building was a monster of a creature. A leviathan of brick, rising a full forty stories over the cityscape.
And most of it was being embraced by demon fire. One of the greatest challenges was trying to navigate through it. The building was a towering maze, filled with smoke and flame, and Tayler was wearing the respirator. As she ran through the halls trying to find the living, the sound of her own breathing filled her ears. She was up twenty floors now. There were thirty-three altogether. Reaching the top of nineteen, the stairs under her had given way. Tayler threw the axe and grabbed for the lip of the stairs as they crumbled. She managed to shoot one hand up and up, almost certain that her fingers would close on nothing.
They grasped the edge and she dangled for a moment. If she could have turned her head and looked down, her views on Hell might have changed. For she dangled over a deep abyss filled with flame. And her gloves did not provide a fabulous grip.
Tayler swung and threw her other hand up. She began to pull herself up when hands grabbed her. Reaching hands gripped her wrists and her jacket. They pulled and she felt herself slide over the edge to solid concrete. Oddly though, the hands kept gripping and pulling at her. Grateful though she was for the rescue, she waved them away and tried to stand. They kept pulling at her. Then pain exploded across her arm. One of her rescuers was trying to bite her through the thick jacket.
Tayler shoved it back and when she was finally able to look up, she screamed the first adult scream of terror in her life. A group of four human beings, burned, their hair gone and their skin black and cracked open in several places. One of them didn’t even have eyes. Their lips had melted away and so had most of their noses, but they were reaching for her and making screeching sounds.
Fear was a totally new emotion to Tayler and she was blind with it. She kicked out at the first of them, sending it over the lip of the stairs and tumbling into the fiery abyss.
“NO!” she screamed, overwhelmed by what she had done. Guilt slammed into her chest. Then the hands were all over her again. Tayler felt them tugging and pulling at her. They were trying to bite her. Over and over, pain flared up as they clamped down trying to bite through her jacket and gloves. Panicked, Tayler threw her arms around wildly. She bent, picked up the axe, and began swinging it back and forth to ward them away. Hands landed on her shoulders and she turned, coming face to face with three more that had entered the stairwell from the hall.
She shoved the first back with the axe handle and swung the axe in a wide arc. A severed hand flew over the edge and she watched it turn over and over for a moment. The man did not seem not notice his wound.
Her mind raced with hysterical theories: they were in shock, they were from a drug den, they were the reanimated dead, risen again like in the movies and TV shows she and MJ liked to watch, but never seemed to be able to finish. They were all around her and closing in and Tayler’s back was to the wall.
Self-preservation took hold and she held the axe handle end to end and raced at the first group, shoving them back over the ledge. They went over like a daisy chain, all of them still reaching for her.
Tayler spun and swung the axe at the second group in the hallway as the ledge of the stairwell lurched and began to give. Tayler heard metal groaning and knew what it meant. She brought the axe down on the leader’s head with a sickening sound, like hitting a ripe melon, that she felt more than heard. Fire roared and bellowed, but the screeching of the burnt things was somehow louder. The ledge listed further and further down and Tayler felt her boots slide in loose pebbly concrete. Time was up.
She raced at the group, driving them against the wall and ran through the hall door half a second before the stairwell platform gave way. She heard the shrieking fall away as they plummeted behind her.
Tayler’s mind raced as she leaned against the wall. Smoke was thick here, but the flames had not yet reached this floor. She tried to calm her mind, knowing that shock and panic were absolutely not acceptable. She had to calm herself and think logically. MJ’s face and eyes filled her mind. She calmed herself and slowed her breathing.
“Alright,” she breathed into the mask, “all right, you are twenty floors up and have just lost one way out. The first 15 floors at least are aflame. A group of burnt people just tried to...what...bite you or something and they died, but you still have a job to do. There may be people up here that are still okay. You studied the plans of this building on the way. There is a fire escape on the south wall. Get moving.”
****
MJ sat in front of the television in their shared loft. Tayler had been gone for two days. Having to stay at the station due to the workload. Fires had increased dramatically and now the news was on every channel. She missed the first of the alerts by the Emergency Broadcast System while in the shower. When she got out she, at first, mistook the garbled news reports as stories from Surinam, Laos and Serbia. Reports of increased and unexplained non-military violence. Those reports grew as the violence spread and now there were reports from all over the world and they were both eclectic and horrifying in nature. Something about an exploded probe from N.A.S.A. Another about some form of outbreak in the rural areas of Pennsylvania then there were more from Britain, Columbia, Pakistan and Iraq. Reports of soldiers seemingly still alive after having been mortally wounded.
As the warning alert came over the TV again, she sat glued to it. Reports of violence breaking out all over the city. Some horrifying thing about a jumper in a subway crawling out of the tunnel after having been cut in half. A rash of failed suicide attempts, people fighting in the streets, a drive-by that ended not with the death of those shot, but with the victims attacking gang members and tearing them to pieces. The most soul-crushing report of all was the spread of fires. Increased reports of arson and whole buildings aflame.
MJ stared at the TV with tears streaming down her face. They had tried to call her in to report but she could not tear herself from the TV. There was too much happening and her lover was right in the middle of it.
Now there were tales of violence right here in Manhattan. People randomly attacking each other and bizarre accounts of people walking with broken legs or even necks. Hospitals had become war zones, the police were everywhere and the National Guard was on the way.
MJ wondered if Tayler even knew. If her dearest love had any idea of what was happening. Her imagination ran wild. In her mind's eye she saw Tayler and her team fighting crazed crowds bearing pipes and knives, saw them fending off crowds of murderous New Yorkers with only fire hoses and a few axes. She looked at the weapon in her lap again. The Colt Python had been for wicked fun as well as home defense. They had gone out shooting together. Tayler knew about guns, having grown up in the south where it seemed everyone had one and she had taken MJ to the shooting range. She remembered Tayler right up behind her. Hands around her arms, showing her how to hold the gun. That voice soft in her ear like a purring kitten as she taught MJ how to aim, how to shoot...how to kill.
She picked it up, thinking of her lover’s hands on her. Thinking of the kick the big gun made. Thinking of her lover out there in a city slowly but steadily running mad and burning.
MJ wiped her face, took a deep breath, and stood up. She had made a decision and she picked up her keys and left the apartment. As she closed the door, the picture of the two of them, laughing at Coney Island, fell over. No one would ever right that picture frame again.
****
Tayler ra
ised the axe over her head as the door into the hallway exploded outward and forms lunged out. She began slicing it down before the terrified forms yelled at her.
“NO! WAIT! Don’t kill us! We are okay! Please help me!” It was a younger man. Short and stocky, and over his shoulder was a woman. Behind him came two others. A tall, bald man and a short, pretty girl with raven black hair.
“Fuck! Are you OK?” she asked.
“No, but we are alive. More than I can say for anyone else.”
“Is anyone left-” Tayler began, turning into the door from which they had come.
“DON’T!” the tall man yelled and Tayler froze. What she saw in the apartment almost made her vomit. Never had she seen so much blood, so much carnage.
“You...did you...what...” she stammered through her mask, backing away from them and raising the axe.
“No, you don’t understand! We...they just...” the pretty raven haired girl began. Then from behind them an explosion blasted three doors outward, colliding with the hallway wall. Flames shot out of them. Tayler pushed her questions about her new companions aside for the moment and her professionalism took hold again.
“Come on! The gases from the kitchens are catching!” Tayler yelled and herded them down the hallway towards the fire escape. Twenty feet from a turn in the hall, a crowd came around the corner. Tayler gasped inside her mask. They were charred and mutilated, but standing, just like the ones in the stairwell, and the faces made her heart nearly stop. No horror film had ever captured such expressions. She did not even have a word for them - crazed and desperate, eyes that looked terrified, agonized and even lustful, all at the same time. Faces were missing jaws or ears or half gone. Yet they were coming at her and the small group.
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