The Mistress Under the Hill

A quick note to let you know about "The Mistress Under the Hill," a short story I've got forthcoming in Circlet Press's What Lies Beneath anthology. When I was asked to write this story, the challenge was to come up with sex-positive erotic horror. I invented a character who's pushed by society to side with the monsters. She's been punished for being sexually attractive her whole life, and as she claims the pleasures of her body, she also finds a way to escape her untenable position.

Frequent readers of my work will recognize my interest in masturbation and voyeurism.

Conqueror Womb

Any friend of mine could guess the moment I decided to write a story for Conqueror Womb: Lusty Tales of Shub-Niggurath—the moment I heard of it. Now, this monstrous book is finished and ready for release on February 10. In the meantime, you can preorder it from Martian Migraine Press.

Here's what the publisher has to say:

Pulsing with some of the best writers working today in Lovecraftian horror (Wilum Pugmire, Molly Tanzer, Brian M. Sammons to name a few!) and mind-bending erotica (Shon Richards, Annabeth Leong, Jacqueline Sweet to name a few more!), plus a host of fresh talent! (Feel quite free to bow before the ToC, too, we won’t mind…)

Praise & Abundance! - introduction by editors Justine Geoffrey & Scott R Jones
This Human Form – Lyndsey Holder
That Hideous Thing – Ran Cartwright
Unsatisfied – Brian M. Sammons
Mater Annelida – Victoria Dalpe
The Potboiler Sigil – Luke R. J. Maynard
All This For the Greater Glory of the 7th and 329th Children of the Black Goat of the Woods – Molly Tanzer
Babymama – Kenton Hall
Our Child – Annabeth Leong
Boy – Don Webb
Pieces (2) for String Octet – Copper Sloane Levy
The Whisperer in the Vagina – Shon Richards
Obsidian Capre Aegagrus – Christopher Slatsky
Dirtymag – Jonas Moth
With Honey Dripping – Christine Morgan
In the Down Deep Down – Jacqueline Sweet
The Scarlet Scripture – Ambrosius Grimes
Within Your Unholy Pit of Shoggoths – Wilum H. Pugmire
Blossom – Rose Banks
The Conqueror Womb: Parsing Shub-Niggurath (essay) – Scott R Jones

I'm really proud of my story in this book. As is proper for weird erotica, I plumbed the depths of my personal nightmares for your disturbing pleasure. And, as a Valentine's Day release, this provides lovely balance for some of my sweeter work. Enjoy!

Music Mondays: "Better Dig Two" by The Band Perry - Take Two

"Here lies the girl whose only crutch was loving one man just a little too much."
-- The Band Perry



I've featured this song before, but that was when only the lyric video was out. I have to call attention to it again because of the amazing full video. American Gothic. Beautiful.

Freedom For A Small Part

Coming Togetherʻs awesome charitable erotic anthology of tentacle sex is out! Coming Together: Arm in Arm in Arm, edited by Nobilis Reed, released last month, and includes my story, "Freedom For A Small Part." As with all books published by Coming Together, all proceeds will go to charity -- in this case, to Oceana.

Nobilis Reed is a man concerned with story, and I have high expectations for this anthology -- Iʻm sure it will deliver as much in terms of plot and character development as it does in orgasmic prose.

To whet your appetite, hereʻs an excerpt from my story. The heroine, Natalie, is living in a dorm known for the tentacle monster that lives in its plumbing. This scene takes place after an attempted hazing that teaches Natalie that the creature might not be all it seems.:

Natalie started showering in Wesley, paying no mind to the teasing that came from the Hentai Girls. They seemed to think of her as one of them now, which improved her living situation a great deal. The creature poked its tentacles out every time she turned the water on. Natalie had learned that it liked when she stroked her hand firmly down the length of its exposed flesh — or had she trained it to like that? She started a notebook where she tracked its behavior and what she observed about it.

A few times, she started conversations with other girls in Wesley, trying to figure out what they did with it. For all the innuendo about the creature, no one seemed willing to talk specifics. Donna, for example, a tall, slim volleyball playing blonde who lived down the hall, rolled her eyes when Natalie raised the subject. "I think you know what we do with it."

"I mean, what specifically?" Natalie pressed.

Donna shrugged. "It grabs you and fucks you. You know that."

Natalie had trouble believing no other girl had discovered how responsive the tentacles could be. She waited in a bathroom stall late one night, hoping to get a chance to watch how someone else interacted with the creature.

She didn't have to wait too long. Cora came in, stripping off her clothes as soon as she passed through the door and heading straight for the showers. Natalie waited until the water started, then stepped out of the stall as quietly as she could. The school always skimped on shower curtains, probably in an effort to save money, so Natalie had an easy view of the redhead almost to the knee. A clutch of tentacles wound around her calves, and Cora gripped them with red-manicured hands, urging them up.

"Come on," she muttered. "Don't get sluggish on me now. You were never shy before." She hauled the tentacles higher up her body, squeezing them so hard that bloodless patches spread out from around her grip.

Holding her breath, Natalie lowered herself to the floor, working soundlessly to find an angle where she could get a better view of Cora's shower. She crawled on her belly until she was just outside the shower stall, hoping Cora would be too occupied with the tentacles to notice her there.

Natalie peered up. The redhead stood, legs wide, tentacles wrapped around all four limbs. Many more had come up for Cora than ever had for Natalie. They crammed through the shower drain in what looked to be a painful squeeze. Cora tugged them upward almost maniacally, guiding them around her waist, her upper thighs, and her bare breasts. She squeezed them hard and they squeezed her back, but she didn't seem satisfied. Cora wrung one tentacle with both hands, and the creature responded by tightening all around her. Her nipples stood out as her breasts protruded and reddened.

Cora sighed and rocked within its hold. Natalie noted the rocking, wondering if that effectively signaled the creature to perform a different action. Whatever the impetus, a tentacle unwound from Cora's thigh and probed her slit. Natalie blushed and wanted to look away, but she reminded herself of her scientific curiosity and kept her gaze fixed on the redhead.

Tentacles peeled loose from her waist and arms and joined their fellows at Cora's entrance. The girl rocked harder and faster, the muscles of her thighs straining to spread as wide as possible. Four thick tentacles, studded with fleshy knobs, charged into her cunt, and Cora threw back her head in ecstasy, her mouth open in a cry that was choked off by another tentacle pressing between her lips. Powerful rings of muscles contracted rhythmically to power the appendages that worked within Cora.
Natalie watched wide-eyed as Cora and the creature played out every move in an incredibly complex symphony of violation. If her training theory was true, the nuance of the creature's behavior with Cora seemed an incredible feat.

Not wanting to press her luck, Natalie retreated as rapidly as she dared. Only later, when she returned to her room to make her notes, did she realize how aroused she'd been by Cora's display. Furtively, Natalie slipped one finger into her panties. She drew it out covered with juices. For a moment, she wanted to lie in her bed and linger on the image of the creature with Cora, to rub herself until she shuddered in ecstatic oblivion the way Cora had.

She resisted the urge. Pleasure was for Cora and the others. Natalie wanted answers.

To read the rest of this, along with the other stories in the anthology, you can get the book here!

Murder University Needs You!

My friends at Scorpio Film Releasing are shooting a new movie--Murder University. They're collecting funding on Indie GoGo, and they need help. The movie's started shooting, but they're still far from their funding goal. To sweeten the deal, I'm going to throw in a free e-book for the first five people who send me proof that they donated to the project (see last paragraph for details).

Here's a quote from their pitch:

In a time of endless remakes, reboots, sequels and retreads, what horror really needs is to go back to school. Back to the basics. No CGI fakery, no tricks, no gimmicks. Just solid storytelling, a great cast, and a beautiful visual look.

What does an erotica author have to do with a slasher film? Well, for one thing I love movies, including horror. And both horror and erotica deal with the taboo. We explore the deepest parts of the human psyche--sometimes for fun, sometimes to disturb ourselves, sometimes for thrills of both kinds. We're often looked down upon as "not serious" or "unimportant." But as I've grown into doing more of the work I want to be doing, I've realized this is the stuff that's important to me! This is what grabs my attention, and it's what I care about.

The people behind Scorpio Film Releasing are friends, and they inspire me. They make movies for the joy and art of it, and they work hard to give props to the people who help them. They don't take themselves too seriously (see Atomic Brain Invasion and Disco Exorcist), but they're also not afraid to get into the deep stuff (see Exhumed).

OK, that's my spiel. Here are the details of the giveaway:

1. Donate at least $10 to the campaign, and send me proof (a donation receipt) at annabeth.leong@gmail.com

2. If you're one of the first five people to do this, I'll buy you a copy of Whispers in Darkness, an anthology of horror erotica inspired by the work of H.P. Lovecraft (my work is in there, along with a bunch of other excellent authors).

3. Enjoy the e-book, as well as the good feeling of having helped a great project!

The Artist's Retreat

I love H.P. Lovecraft, and have been gratified to see a recent trend in Lovecraftian erotica. I was even more gratified to have a story of my own included in Circlet Press's excellent Lovecraftian collection, Whispers in Darkness. I'm proud to have had my story in this book described as "mercilessly sexy" (in the book's introduction), as well as "thoroughly, unwholesomely sexy" (in a review).

Here's an excerpt from the Artist's Retreat:

Up close, the ground swelled with twisted, fertile promise. The muddy earth sucked and pulsed around my feet. I could not imagine what might burst from it, what ancient things might wind around my ankle and pull me down to them. Olivia’s cheeks had grown bright. She pressed her body against the boulder as if against a lover’s chest, her free hand stroking it languidly. “Touch it,” she said.

I resisted, feeling a surge of fear and revulsion even as I wanted nothing more on earth than to feel the sensations I saw reflected in her eyes. I watched as if in slow motion as she pressed our linked hands also to the stone.

The boulder might have shuddered beneath my touch. Olivia guided me to stroke its moist surface, as smooth as skin. I felt little grooves in the stone and leaned closer. Shrouded by the moss, I could just see intricate engravings, impossibly complex and certainly older than any civilization I had known to live in this part of the world.

The cryptic images did not depict any shapes or beings I knew--still, they stirred me. I got to my knees beside Olivia, and together we explored the contours of the boulder. I could not piece together an overall image of the design. Neither could I decode any individual piece. But the longer I ran my fingers over it, and the longer I knelt beside her and stared, the more I began to see flashes of meaning. Two coiled appendages, wound around each other and rubbing their undersides together obscenely; what could have been a thousand tiny fingers caressing a swollen, monolithic shaft; a long and muscular tongue, curved into a suggestive question.
Though the boulder stood only as high as my shoulder, the engravings seemed impossibly vast. Soon I gasped aloud as we explored new regions of it. Olivia edged closer to me; we leaned our shoulders together as we moved our hands across the stone with increasing eagerness. I heard her panting beside me.

Gently, Olivia released my hand and placed both palms against the stone. I copied her movements. I imagined the boulder pressed back against my touch, molding itself to the contours of my hands. The skin below my collar bone felt hot. A light breeze chilled me more deeply than it should have, cooling the layer of sweat that coated my forehead and the back of my neck.

Olivia let her head fall onto my shoulder. I froze. She smelled earthy, like what I would expect from the herbs in a witch’s kitchen. I swallowed hard and turned my face into her hair, breathing deeply. The boulder in my palms pulsed to the rhythm of my breath. Intoxicated, overwhelmed, enthralled, my nose ventured deeper into her thick, red locks. Olivia’s hair brushed my lips, soft and warm in the shaded chill beneath the trees.

I could not think. I moaned and pressed my lips against that hair, kissing the top of her head. Olivia let go of the boulder and wrapped her arms around me. Even through my clothes, her hands burned. I released the boulder as well and buried both hands in that ambrosial hair. I shivered as I wrapped it around my fingers, remembering Olivia’s self-portrait and the way the woman’s body had disappeared into the dull black mass. I wanted to disappear into her hair just that way, to be tangled and shaped and possessed by it, though I could not allow those thoughts to form a bridge from urges to conclusions. I felt heat coming from all directions--my body, her body, the boulder, the ground.

Olivia stirred. She lifted her head. Her hair slipped across my lips and nearly undid me. Then her serious green eyes asked a question, a mere inch from mine. I couldn’t face questions or answers just then. I closed my eyes and pulled her against me, searching with blind lips. I found the top of her ear, her temple, her cheek, and finally her mouth, which opened willingly beneath my first avid touch.
Her tongue felt hot and strange against mine. The mystery of her taste drew me to reach deeper, gripping the back of her head now to explore her better. I could not have explained what I was doing, but at that moment I did not care to. My mind filled with incoherent thoughts, guided by the images of the past few days, but also with urges I could not fully describe. I wanted to pull her so close that I brought her into me. I wanted to press inside her so far that I would know her completely.

I needed this kiss like I had never needed anything. I gripped Olivia’s arms and directed her against the boulder. I needed leverage. I needed something to press against. I could not control my hands. They wanted to uncover all of her. I slipped them under her shirt and touched the small of her back, the flushed skin there twitching slightly under the force of my grip. I tugged her shirt up, my fingers attempting to decode her spine. I kissed harder, pinning her naked back to the boulder and crushing my hands against its rough engravings.

The kiss exploded around me. Suddenly, the trees were part of it, and the ground, and the rock, and the sun. Olivia and I, tangled together, became another part of the engravings on the stone, their natural extension as they reached into the air. We became part of something old and ancient and wanting, something that coiled at the bottom of my belly just as it nestled under the flesh of the earth.

I wanted to do everything, have everything, to plunge my hands into the mud, to curl my belly around the boulder and lie baking in the sun, to kiss and kiss Olivia until neither of us could ever breathe again. We screamed into each other’s mouths. Her body began to jerk slowly and rhythmically against mine, her tongue lagging just behind. For a moment, I felt she was feeding me secret, forbidden knowledge. Against the dark and private backdrop of my closed eyelids, I could almost glimpse a place far beyond the stars, a wild, great, terrible, and exhilarating enigma. She was there, I felt, but I could not quite join her.

I shifted my hands. Her skin felt clammy now. Concern gave me the strength I needed to break the kiss. The sight of the milky skin of her stomach and the bottom wire of her black bra would have enthralled me again were it not for the sickly pale of her face and her eyes rolled back in her head and the horror of her mouth, which did not seem aware that I had pulled away and still worked as if in the throes of ecstasy.
A dizzying wave of shame struck me full-force in the chest. I’d never felt these sorts of urges before. I couldn’t understand what I’d been doing. And I feared what might have happened to Olivia. My lust set aside for the moment, I gripped her arms and pulled her away from the boulder.

She came away heavily. I imagined for a wild moment that the stone parted with her only reluctantly. I stared into her clouded green eyes. She gave a slow blink, then began to shiver violently, her teeth chattering with the force of hailstones on pavement. “Olivia,” I said, a few times until she responded.

If I expected her to be disturbed by what had happened, her expression disabused me of my mistake. “Do you understand a little more?” she whispered when she had recovered, the feverish brightness returning to her cheeks and eyes.

It was great to have room to really stretch out and write this story, building up from sparks to a raging fire.

I highly recommend buying the anthology--not just for this story, but for everything in it. I'm astounded at the company I'm keeping here. Every one of the stories in this anthology is awesome, and there's a lot of range.

Check out, for example, Elizabeth Reeve's "The Dreams in the Laundromat," which is the sweetest, most romantic tentacle sex story I've ever read.

If you need more convincing, read this very flattering review. Then go forthwith and check out everything Circlet has to offer--they're doing great work over there.