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Surrendering to the Beast
Surrendering to the Beast
Surrendering to the Beast
Ebook47 pages39 minutes

Surrendering to the Beast

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It had been fifty years since the war to end all wars, but in launching a final strike against the forces of pagan terrorism, the Church has become a terrorist state of its own, cut off from the rest of the world, and banished to suffer under its own apocalyptic darkness.

 

Disease and pestilence ran rampant among neglected sinners like Alexander and Kevin, cast out for their sexuality, shunned for their beliefs, and sentenced to death for Kevin's illness. There is hope said to lurk deep in the Pagan Provinces, where 'The Beast' is said to offer the ultimate cure . . . but only for those prepared to offer their ultimate surrender.

 

And if it is to succeed, it will irrevocably change the couple forever.

 

Surrendering to the Beast is a work of erotic horror and paranormal romance, a story about the lengths to which one man will go to save the man he loves. Features submission, tentacles, supernatural bargaining, and paranormal domination. Adults only.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherSally Bend
Release dateOct 16, 2017
ISBN9781370752591
Surrendering to the Beast
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Author

S.B. Medina

S.B. Medina is an author of darkly twisted fantasy and bizarrely erotic horror. They believe in pushing limits, casting aside all restraint, and allowing their imagination to run wild. It's in stories that put an imaginative twist on our darker passions, particularly those that mix themes of domination with the supernatural, where they feel most at home. If your reading tastes run to the weird, the taboo, or the forbidden, then you're in good company.

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    Surrendering to the Beast - S.B. Medina

    Introduction

    One of the most dangerous questions a writer can ask of themselves is what if?

    The question usually comes late in the process, at that point where the creative half of your brain hands the story over to the analytic half. The creative process is done, leaving your imagination free to wander in the background while you focus on spelling, grammar, and narrative flow.

    That’s where you find yourself asking those dangerous what if? questions. Sometimes they are simple ones that lead you to make a minor edit, a change that improves the overall story. Sometimes they are more significant, requiring you to chase a new plot thread or a changed character through the story, bringing a hidden theme or idea to light. And, sometimes, they are changes that shake the very foundation of the story, requiring a complete rewrite.

    The latter is what gave rise to the twin novellas, Surrendering to the Beast and Transformed by the Beast.

    I won’t tell you which came first—I will leave that up to you to ponder, should you choose to give both stories a read. What I will tell you is that, gender differences aside, they remain the same story at heart, with the same theme of an Alpha male surrendering his sense of self in an intimate act of pure, heartfelt love.

    To be honest, I’m not sure which story I prefer. Transformed by the Beast is the kind of story that most readers would expect of me, with an Alpha male’s love for his transsexual wife leading to an act of surrender that will change them both. Surrendering to the Beast is a story I am just as excited about, with an Alpha male’s love for his husband leading to an act of surrender that will change their future together.

    Writing them in parallel made both stories stronger, and I think - I hope - the experience has made me a better writer. I hope you enjoy.

    Surrendering to the Beast

    Acacophony of church bells cried out in the distance. Their angry echoes shattered against the north wall of what had once been a wondrous gorge - or glen, as those on the other side had called its once green slopes. Carved by thousands of years of falling water, it had been destroyed overnight by rising hatred.

    Alexander jammed his gnarled hands deeper into his armpits. He shivered in the darkness, crouched beneath the granite shroud of a glacial boulder, listening for any sound of ecclesiastical pursuit. Soft patches of crimson moss burned his neck, while dead sticks snarled in his hair. The veil of tattered spider web across his face bestowed an illusion of serenity almost as dangerous as that which he sought beyond.

    Technically, it wasn’t illegal to be down near the water —if you wanted to call it that. With the once-scenic waterfalls having all but run dry, the thin stream that remained was little more than a poisoned purple smear, leached slowly from the ashen, grey rock behind him. The south wall of the chasm, which had once stood nearly 350 feet high, was no more. In its place was a mile-long gradual slope of rotten, tainted, poisoned earth.

    It wasn’t illegal to be there because to

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