Forbidden Gems I
Damian JerichoGenre: Erotica/Supernatural Erotica/Dark Erotica
Date of Publication: February 17, 2015
Number of pages: 46
Word Count: 12,148
Cover Artist: Xio Axelrod
It’s an unusual night at the museum. The legendary Pazuzu gemstones are making an appearance, in the company of the man who discovered them: the almost equally legendary Argent Leeds.
Mara, a young intern, expects nothing more from the evening than a chance to get a glimpse at the almost mythical stones. What she gets is a private showing, and a great deal more: the beginning of an erotic journey unlike anything she could have ever imagined.
Forbidden Gems is a six part serial. It begins here.
“The blue sapphire?”
“The sapphire, yes.”
“You want me to think about it? That’s a strange request.”
“I know. Just picture it in your head. Close your eyes if you want.”
This is weird, she thought. But she did as he asked, shut her eyes and thought back to Saturday night. Not the part where Argent had her pressed up against a glass display cabinet—that was something she almost couldn’t stop thinking about—but the part before, when he had taken the sapphire from the cabinet and slipped it into her hand. The memory came easily enough, as if this was something that was always buried at the edge of her memory just hidden behind thoughts of Argent and everything that happened later.
But she could recall exactly how warm the sapphire had felt, and how smooth it was in her palm.
Did it glow? Or had that been a trick of the light?
She could feel it in her hand again, the sense memory was so strong. And just as soon as she imagined she was holding it, she felt something else. Something sudden and urgent was uncoiling itself inside her, beginning with a shiver that traveled up her back to her scalp and down to her fingertips, echoing through her and turning into a dull throb in her groin.
She opened her eyes and looked at Argent, who seemed to be aware of exactly what she was feeling, even though she’d barely moved.
“Argent, what is this?”
“No, don’t stop. Keep thinking of it,” he said.
It was as if she had no choice but to obey his request, and as she closed her eyes again, the memory of the sapphire filled up her thoughts completely.
Blue, so blue.
The gemstone was in her hands again, but now she was caressing it and sliding it across her skin, over her chest and down her naked stomach. It was a memory of a thing that had never happened, yet it felt as real as anything that had happened, and she didn’t know anymore how to tell the difference. And as she slid the sapphire down her stomach and past her wet lips and into her, she didn’t care because it felt real.
Also real was the rush of wet heat in her crotch that turned into a pounding need, as
if the gemstone was still inside her and vibrating in time with her body. As if they were becoming a part of each other.
And she was about to burst. Her nipples, which had become exposed nerves, rubbed against the inside of her bra and ached to be bitten and pulled, and she yearned to reach out and grab Argent and pull him onto her. Instead she dug her hands into the soft leather of the chair and let out a little moan.
Think of the stone, she reminded herself, and there she was again in her falsified memory, naked and leaning up against the wall pushing the blue sapphire in and out of herself and then running the slick stone back up her chest.
Her legs were opening. She couldn’t stop them. Sapphire blue was everywhere and everything, and her hands wanted to let go of the chair, and she couldn’t let that happen, but she couldn’t stop them either somehow. She was so close.
“I can’t . . .” she whispered, even as she trembled from another shiver and fought just to stay upright and keep her hands where they were. It was a losing battle, because in her memory was the notion that the stone belonged back inside her, and so she spread her legs and thrust it as deeply as it could go. And then her hand—the real one, that was holding on to the chair desperately—let go and she was shoving it between her open legs and pushing her fingers in as far and as hard as she could through her jeans.
She came violently and suddenly, like something physically snapped inside her vagina and spilled out hot oil that ran all the way up to her face. Her head tilted and her back arched, and a scream began to slide out of her throat when Argent clapped his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Settle down now. Settle down.”
The orgasm dug in and held her body rigid for what seemed like minutes before subsiding. She sagged into the chair, pulled her hand out from between her legs, and leaned against Argent, who was kneeling next to her.
“I’m all sweaty,” she complained quietly. “What the hell just happened to me?”
“Research,” he said.
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “But I want to. Do you?”
Forbidden Gems II
Genre: Erotica/Supernatural Erotica/Dark Erotica
Date of Publication: March 3, 2015
Number of pages: 47
Word Count: 13,101
Cover Artist: Xio Axelrod
While sorting through the archeological findings from one of Argent’s digs, Mara makes a surprising discovery, one that might connect back to the gemstones. Eager to share what she’s found, she meets Argent for a private dinner in an exclusive club, and ends up sharing a great deal more when clothing becomes entirely optional.
Forbidden Gems is a six part serial. The journey continues here.
Mademoiselle Alleman was an alarmingly thin older woman who resembled an unusually fleshy species of bird but who had at her disposal a dazzling array of high-end designer products that were so high-end Mara had never heard of any of them before. This was not, she granted, an ideal litmus test given her historical lack of funds and parallel lack of fashion knowledge. She knew what she looked good in, and she knew what fit, and for any additional details, she usually leaned on her friends.
The mademoiselle—she did not appear to have a first name—was seemingly happier to meet Mara than anybody had ever been to meet her ever, and while Mara was pretty sure Alleman greeted everyone with the same extraordinary level of enthusiasm, it rang so true she was happy to imagine this woman had been waiting for Mara all her life—or if not her, then someone just like Mara—to come along and try on some of the clothing she had lying around that was all about exactly the right size.
They began simply enough, by making sure the criminally short black dress Argent had picked out for her was properly sized. Mara thought it was a perfect fit—better than any other outfit in her wardrobe already—but the mademoiselle disagreed and ended up taking in an eighth of an inch at the waist and lowering the hemline by a quarter of an inch.
“You will see, chéri,” she said. “It will look perfect.”
It looked pretty perfect already, Mara thought. But she wasn’t the expert in the room.
Underwear came next, and that was just sort of strange. Mara had never had a personal shopper for outerwear before, but she liked the idea of it immediately. But
Mademoiselle Alleman, a woman old enough to be her grandmother, had opinions on what underwear Mara should be wearing with the dress, and nobody was pretending this was going to be anything other than fuck-me underwear.
“I think Monsieur Leeds, he will like these very much,” she said, holding up a thong that was essentially three strings and an eye-patch. In the mademoiselle’s French accent, the suggestion sound perfectly normal, which made Mara wonder if her accent was even real or if she just used it to make these moments slightly less weird.
“It’s not very much of anything,” Mara said, “so yes, you’re probably right.”
“It is more than nothing, and that is the point, dear. Nothing is only nothing. Nothing is not mystery. This is mystery. Small mystery, but still mystery, and not nothing. It’s what you choose not to show that makes them want you. So you try these. And . . .” She grabbed a lacy push-up bra that appeared to be a solid match. “And this.”
Mara stepped behind the privacy screen—they were alone in a shuttered, private shop so there was no particular need for a full dressing room until such a time as Chalmers decided to check in from the car or something—to change into the lingerie.
“Have you known Mr. Leeds for long?” Mara asked.
“You suppose I know him?” the mademoiselle countered. “Perhaps I do not. He is a man who wishes to pay for your wonderful new clothing, is that not enough?”
“But you do know him.”
“Yes, chéri, Monsieur Leeds and myself are familiar with one another. It has been five years, I suppose.”
“Does he send all of his women here?” Mara asked, realizing after it had already been said that it came off as a little bitchy.
“Oh, haha. No, you misunderstand, chéri. You are only the second of his, his women as you say, to come here. The first was from five years ago, and Monsieur Leeds and I have remained acquainted through social circles.”
“So there was another woman, but five years ago?” Mara asked. She was now blatantly digging for information but didn’t seem to have any patience for a more nuanced approach.
“It has been since three years,” Alleman answered. “But Monsieur Leeds has, I’m sure, told you of her by now.”
“He has not,” Mara admitted. “But I haven’t asked. I’m not even sure if we’re dating,
Mademoiselle Alleman, or if that’s what people still do. We’ve never really talked about that either.”
“It is just the sex, then.”
“It’s better if it’s the sex first, chéri. Love, romance, relationships—these are confusing. Sex is simple. Now you must be changed. Please. Show me how they fit.”
Damian Jericho is the pen name of a best-selling sci-fi/fantasy novelist who tragically does not have a name that is half as interesting as ‘Damian Jericho’. Both of them reside in the Boston area and one of them is real.