Body Parts, an exerpt

BodyParts_smThe shake-up in the publishing work as small and epublishers have closed their doors over the last few years has had me in a rather a “flux” state, to put it mildly. I’m still doing a bit of scrambling to get my feet back under me, but I think I’m getting closer.

Unfortunately, with each step I think I’m making, over the last couple of years something else has happened to set me back on my heels.

Since I also have an interest in photograph and some measure of graphic design, I set myself on a learning curve to do my own cover design. Life is all about taking the side roads and curious paths in our journey.  What fun would it be without challenges to keep us energized? So, new releases are coming slowly as I travel along this creative learning curve, and adapt to this evolving technological age that changes with every breath. I hope you’ll bear with me.

Body Parts was originally released under my other writing pseudonym, Adrianna Dane, in 2008. When Loose Id closed its doors, sadly for me, I might add, I made the decision to re-release this story under Darcy because it’s really a bit darker erotic horror/gothic-themed and I felt it fit more in line with what I write as Darcy Abriel.

Body Parts is now re-released with a new cover and is currently available on Amazon and as a #kindleunlimited section. I hope to design it for paperback very soon.

Body Parts

An erotic twisted romance to Frankenstein mythology. “…The concept of this story is highly original and the Frankenstein element is very interesting…” one reviewer says. #erotic #gothic #dark fantasy #romance #bisexual

Athan is the embodiment of male virility unbounded: eternal lust designed by and for the pleasure of his makers and their thirst to discover the secret to eternal life. An incomparable Frankenstein creation without flaw, his parts melded by alchemy and science, infused and fed by sexual energies of lust and desire, Athan survives through the acts of pleasure, in all its varied and seductive forms.

Yet Athan is a tortured soul who walks eternally alone, always hungry, forever hunting for his one, true perfect mate, that one person who can accept who and what he is. Not a monster, not a collection of perfect parts, but a man.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DN1YGCM

Excerpt

Korrie trembled with excitement, as well as fear, as she stumbled into the library the next afternoon. She was still stunned by her discovery. She had taken the morning to delve into some of the shadowy nooks and crannies these older structures seemed to hide, looking for someplace else where documents might have been hidden away. She had even gotten up the courage to go into the master bedroom. And that’s where something very odd had taken place and why she was ready to burst right now.

She wasn’t sure it was a room she wanted to return to any time soon. But it certainly did give her hope that there were more documents in this place to be uncovered — that maybe Paul hadn’t found. Documents that had been hidden by someone not so earthly bound as they were.

In that room, more so than any of the others she had entered that morning, it was as though there was still a presence in residence, hovering just out of sight as she scoured the room. Then the ice-cold breeze she had become accustomed to over the last few days descended, drifting over her like a misty cloud, drawing her deep into its lair. She’d never been one to believe in the supernatural, but after this recent experience, she held a healthy respect for things not seen.

Whatever energy that was in there had drawn her to a silken powder blue and gold chair near the window. Vibrations of sensual excitement spun around her like ribbons of oozing honey, overpowering in its sweet clinging texture, imprisoning her in the sexual atmosphere that now hovered within the room. She could smell the scent of lust that clung to the air. And to her.

Korrie turned to look at the canopied bed and it was as though she could see the imprint of bodies sliding seductively over the covers. Shadows of movement pressing against the bronzed satin comforter; the indentation of a head on the pillow, thrashing wildly.

Then she sensed that someone had once sat in that chair, watched the twining of bodies, the pressing and penetration, heard the moans and the slapping and sucking of heated, damp flesh, smelled the scent of musky bodies. She felt his presence, and it was definitely a man; unable to stop herself, she pressed a hand to her throbbing, feminine flesh. The room grew darker, the lighting subdued, as she concentrated on the bed.

It was no longer her own female flesh she felt beneath her hands, but a large prick at full mast, hot and throbbing, as whoever it was that was watching the display of passion stroked himself. Electrical impulses seemed to emanate from the thick stalk, shocking the palm of her hand, shooting down through the tips of her fingers.

As surely as she knew her own name, she knew the name of the man whose body she now seemed to be wrapped in.

Athan.

She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the male arousal fill her. She felt his hand stroke the heat of his sex, smearing the liquid across the glans. More and more pre-ejaculate coated her fingers as she gripped the massive tool. One hand moved downward as the testicles drew up close to the male body. The hum of arouspolaroid-1319193_journaling energy spiked through her body.

The groans and murmurs of pleasure coming from the bed were clearer now, and she was no longer alone. The past now seemed her present, and her body was no longer female, but male in full, frontal arousal. She gripped the cock between her legs, no longer aware of her own physical form, so deeply entrenched in the essence of this room.

Come join us. She heard the whispered words of a husky, feminine voice.

Haevyn and Emotional Cost

 

Haevyn_smIn Quentopolis women have been relegated to secondary status in many cases. Women of the working class society, lead very difficult lives. The Elite are treated more as pampered dolls, cosseted and spoiled, to be seen but not heard, with some similarity to that experienced in the 19th century. Yet, as with any society, there are some who do not tow the line, who break from this suffocating sort of bondage.

There are women–some surviving by their wits and intelligence, some by courage and an adventurous spirit–these are women who strive to break free. Some, like Silver from the first book in this series, end up paying a high price, including human and personal freedom. For some, such as the courtesan madam, Violette Goldswan, they wield their power through different, more shadowy avenues. And some, like Haevyn Breina, will attempt to rise through the more public ranks, clawing their way to a position where they have a chance of gaining societal acceptance as an equal, and gaining respect in the more demanding arena of this male-dominated society. None of this is accomplished without emotional cost. None of these women face and accept the challenges of this rather brutal society in quite the same way. For Haevyn, the rewards are worth the steep price. She does not back down from doing what must be done.

In Quentopolis, sexual relations and sexuality are very open and accepted parts of this society. For some it is about pleasure, for some it is a tool to rise through the ranks. Sex is used for negotiation; it is also a shared bond between friends. And it is also an art form, highly prized by a nobility class known as the Dominatae.

Haevyn Breina is of the Moondown Water District working class. Her parents were killed in a factory fire, leaving the care of her younger brother, Bhrett, in her hands. Responsibility came to her at a young age and she accepted it, along with every hardship and payment that security demanded. She gave up her virginity to a higher purpose and though it left her bruised and battered, she has never regretted her choices. When a brand new arm of the Regulate opens up to females, she jumps at the chance, even though strictly speaking the Compsociate Branch is considered by many to be simply a finely labeled government sanctioned army of courtesans in service to the upper Regulate officers. Haevyn accepts the challenge determined to rise within the ranks, but it is not without additional damage to her psyche.

Her lover and friend, Grisha, has served as her anchor, her “calm, safe haven” throughout her life. A simple fisherman, he is far distanced from the machinations of the political arena. But Grisha, more wise than Haevyn realizes, knows there is more that his lovely, wounded lover needs than the warmth and healing of his loving embrace. He knows very well how close to the edge she really is. But so is his other lover, an expatriate Orictan warrior by the name of Entreus.

In any world an emotional cost must attach, though all creatures deal with trauma differently. Some will splinter, some will rise to meet the challenge of adversity and fashion it into their strength. Some bear an anger or rage–they try to ignore or funnel through some other channel. Entreus funnels his rage and frustration through the illegal Cockrage events. Haevyn tries to bury her anger beneath a veneer of tightly-held control. Grisha knows this about each of them and has a sense of their needs.

How these three people adapt, grow, and hopefully heal is at the emotional core of this story. The journey is complicated by a very dangerous and deadly enemy to the city-state whom they must battle.

This is the world of Humanotica. Read an excerpt from “Haevyn,” the second book in the Humanotica series…

Read an excerpt from Silver, the first book in the Humanotica series.

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Haevyn buy links:

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078C51G5Z
Smashwords Buy Link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/816536
Books2Read Universal Link (B&N, Kobo, etc.): https://www.books2read.com/u/4DowAQ

 

 

Silver_promo

Silver buy links:

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074PB91BV
Books2Read Universal Link (B&N, Kobo, etc.): https://www.books2read.com/u/mvjP6X
Smashwords Buy Link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/772872

 

Bone to Metal – an excerpt from Silver

Humanotica, Book 1

Silver, born female, is now an owned gender-mated trinex thanks to the edicts of the Politico Judicalati and time imprisoned at the Factorium. She must choose between her charismatic power-elite, secretive owner, Minister of Acquisitions & Antiquities, Lel Kesselbaum, and a seductive revolutionary, Entreus, a humanotic who tempts her with freedom.
Not all is as it seems–allies who may be traitors, lovers who are more than they appear. A power-mad government, a machine known as the Elite Logical Life Core that uses human intelligence for its knowledge source. The Factorium that acquires humans as research fodder for their experiments and then spits them out when they are of no further use. Sex used as a tool to unearth enemies and traitors, and intimately align allies. Love that is not simple, relationships that are dangerously complex. This is Silver’s highly-complex world.

One misstep in the fight for freedom could mean death for them all.

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Warning: Not for the faint of heart.

As one reviewer said about this story: …an intensely sexual read, with innovative obscenities and novel delights that never cease to amaze…

You’ve been warned…

 

 

EXCERPT

“This is the package from Dr. Starlinger?” he asks as he picks up the small parcel from the gleaming surface.

I cringe at the thought of what is inside, but I try to keep my expression impassive.

“Yes, Dominor.”

He studies it almost reverently and then carefully peels back the layers of white cotton. I want to twist away. My stomach roils at the sight of the innocuous-looking wooden box.

“Lovely,” he murmurs as he raises the lid and strokes a finger over the contents. He lifts the small, thick envelope holding the thin silver punch cards—the latest replication of my brain patterns. They’re a duplicate set to that which will be fed into the Core by the doctors. It is mandated by the Politico that all information, whether set to government gold or non-official silver or bronze, be assimilated into the community intelligence of the Core for processing. Not to do so is considered a traitorous act punishable either by Factorium confinement or death.

They appear to be such fragile things to hold the contents of my thoughts, my emotions, the very essence of my human energy. I know there will be more changes from the previous version. There always are; it is inevitable. Even though the doctors don’t tamper with my brain, what they do to my body impacts my mind, so the cards are always etched and studied after modification.

The minister walks to the closet and steps inside. There are secret places hidden within the walls of this estate. I’m not privy to most of those secured rooms, but I know they exist.

I know where he’s headed as he disappears inside the closet. Another hidden door leading to a secret vault. This room alone he’s shown me, when he placed my first memory cards into safekeeping within the vault.

It’s where he keeps these bits of prized possessions I always return with from the Factorium. These new items will be placed into the box inside the drawer marked with my human name, Elissa Longview. The woman I’d once been. More pieces of me to be separated and locked away. Inwardly, I rage with my impotence. But the anger seems less fierce than it used to be. I try to call upon the full flame of my anger. It worries me that I can no longer depend upon its empowering fury to remind me of my losses, to keep me strong.

Later, he will bring out the red velvet box, along with his personal Intellometer. He’ll attach the wires to himself and feed my thoughts into his own mind. He will watch me as he dissects the changes, assimilates them into his own thought processes. Compartmentalizes them in order to access them when he wishes. Sometimes he’ll echo my own words back to me to prove his control even of that part of me he allows to remain mechanically unaltered. When he does that, I feel utterly vulnerable and powerless. Which, of course, is what he wants.

I, who had once dreamed of becoming an engineer and working in the mysterious Factorium, am now simply a product of it. High aspirations for one so lowly born, and an orphan, at that. But I’d almost made it. I would have, if not for my attraction to Minister Kesselbaum—and for his to the young man I’d pretended to be.

I had learned over the last many months to suppress my human thoughts as much as possible, compartmentalizing and locking them away as though they were separate from me, so he couldn’t find them when he assimilated the silver cards I always returned with. It had become a game of sorts, something to live for. A battle of wits against my owner. I think he knows what I do and enjoys the challenge. I can’t hide my body—what is left of it. He owns me in total. One speck of emotion I can secret away is a small battle won.

But my mind is something he hasn’t replaced—at least not yet. There is ongoing research at the Factorium in that area. As far as I know from his discussions at various social functions where the doctors are present, the experiments thus far haven’t been completely successful. I know my time is running out. There will be no glimmer of memory of what I was. But he will have it—there, in that red velvet box—on the sets of cards that one day will contain all I had been.

There are others in that secret vault. Deliveries when his manservant will present him with a box. He will open the package, examine the contents thoroughly and then take them to the hidden room to be assimilated later and locked away. These he will not share with me.

He’s not in the mood for a private concert tonight, but I’ve been given a sheaf of music to memorize. I’m reprieved from that this evening. Tonight there are other games he wishes to engage in, other torments at hand.

I sit in a chair in front of the fireplace, wearing a transparent white lace negligee with matching wrapper trimmed in black satin. The corset beneath rises to just beneath my breasts, forcing them up against the expensive material. My ribs are constrained tightly, forced close. I know he is testing the modifications. Will they yield as they are meant to? Or will they snap the same as my fragile human bones would have done with such tight confinement? My breaths are shallow, painful. The front of the gown dips low, exposing the full curves of my breasts. My silver-tipped nipples shimmer in the firelight. My legs are curled beneath me. I hold myself erect, shoulders straight. Now I am able to breathe. I sip from the glass of golden cognac Silver3_smhe has allowed me this evening. Warmth curls in my belly. It helps to mellow the pain.

He sits across the room at his desk, the red velvet box opened, a soft sky blue polishing cloth in his hand. He has already carved his initials—and mine—into the marrow. He lifts out the first piece from the box and holds it up to the light. Instinctively, I brush the fingertips of one hand along my imprisoned ribcage. I want to reach out to snatch the items from the desk, and my fingers curl into a clenched fist against my flesh.

Not my fingers. Not my ribs. Not my legs. What will be next?

 

Now available

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