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Deep Inside: Extreme Erotic Fantasies
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Deep Inside: Extreme Erotic Fantasies

2.9 10
by Polly Frost

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Ten tantalizing tales from a talented voice in erotic fiction, each with a twist. Whether it's enchanted sex toys, alien enticements, or Viagra addicts, these stories explore the outer limits of eroticism.

A dominatrix with a discipline problem. A nervous virgin tempted by an unearthly sacrifice. Lust-crazed Viagra addicts. A seductive serial killer. A


Ten tantalizing tales from a talented voice in erotic fiction, each with a twist. Whether it's enchanted sex toys, alien enticements, or Viagra addicts, these stories explore the outer limits of eroticism.

A dominatrix with a discipline problem. A nervous virgin tempted by an unearthly sacrifice. Lust-crazed Viagra addicts. A seductive serial killer. A sexual psychic who can foresee other people's erotic adventures. And a street cop hooked on alien ecstasy…

The sensual men and women in this sizzling collection are all in search of the ultimate sexual high. No plain vanilla sex here; driven by insatiable desires, they push their bodies and souls to the limits, exploring the outer reaches of eroticism. From arcane sexual rituals to the heights of Hollywood decadence, Deep Inside: Extreme Erotic Fantasies breaks every taboo as it takes you inside the throbbing flesh and twisted urges of the kinky, the depraved, and the supernatural.

Turn down the lights and enter a new realm of exotic and forbidden pleasures.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

“Edgy, dark, and fantastic, these stories are all primed to turn the reader on to a deliciously happy ending.” —The Austin Chronicle

“A must-have for those who aren't afraid of exploring what turns them on.” —Playgirl Magazine

“Enjoy this. I certainly did.” —Ron Jeremy on Deep Inside

Product Details

Tom Doherty Associates
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5.46(w) x 8.22(h) x 0.72(d)

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Deep Inside

Extreme Erotic Fantasies

By Polly Frost

Tom Doherty Associates

Copyright © 2007 Polly Frost
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-3218-9


The Threshold

"Cameron, what's wrong with you today?" Janine asked me.

We were walking down our high school corridor towards class.

"Yeah," Tia said, narrowing her gorgeous black eyes at me. "You're so pissy today. What gives?"

"It's just this G-string I'm wearing," I said. "I hate the thing."

A group of senior guys strode towards us. Janine swirled her head around to see if there were any of St. Theresa's teachers or nuns around. The coast was clear. She pulled her skirt down so her bright pink G-string showed above the gray flannel.

I kept my own skirt where it was, but Tia wiggled hers down until it was lower than Janine's.

"Kill me with a G-string!" one of the boys said, as they passed by.

"I love you, Janine!" said another.

"I want you, Tia," the cutest one said.

Janine gave them one of her come-on smiles accompanied by a "fuck you" sign. She saw one of St. Theresa's teachers ahead and hiked her skirt back up.

"Good morning, Ms. Sobowski," Janine sweetly cooed.

We rounded a corner and marched down the main hallway among the hordes of other uniformed students.

"I don't know why I have to wear this thing up my butt crack," I said.

"Resign yourself to it, Cameron. It's your fate as a woman," Tia said, adding with a laugh, "or at least it's your fate as a friend of Janine's."

"Besides, how many times do I have to explain that you're never going to get laid if you go around in baggy old undies?" Janine demanded.

"They were perfectly decent bikinis of mine that you threw out!" I said.

At Janine's insistence, halfway through sophomore year we three friends had sworn to always wear G-strings under our Catholic high school uniforms. When the moment was right — when no teachers or parents were around — Janine would signal for us to hike the straps up so they showed over the tops of our strict little uniform skirts.

"And lucky you are that we rescued you," Janine said. "You were headed towards the sad, dull sexual life of everyone else in this town."

Tia took over. "They don't know what a good fuck is. They marry practically the first person they sleep with and start having babies. And then it's all over. They sit around in front of their TVs and get disgustingly obese and never have any sex again."

"I know, I know," I said.

And boy, did I ever know! My own parents probably hadn't done it since they'd conceived my younger brother, Tim. My mother was still pretty but she wore shapeless beige pants and overblouses, or mid-calf skirts made of fabric that was wrinkly on purpose. As for my dad, he was always talking about trying to lose his belly, but he never did.

How yucky it was to think of my parents even kissing each other, let alone fucking! It seemed as though their lives were already over and they were dead but no one had thought to bury them. I would never be like them, I told myself. I would stay alive for a lot longer.

And maybe Janine was right. Maybe I did need to get on with my sex life if I didn't want to end up like my folks.

Still, even though Janine had been so persuasive, I wasn't sure she was right.

"Speaking of sex, as we always are," Tia said, "how's Project-Lose-It going?"

"Well, Mike wants to do it with me," I said. "So I guess Saturday night will be it."

I flipped back my hair and tried to sound nonchalant. The truth is, I was anything but calm. I was feverish in the inexplicable way I always was when the subject of losing my virginity arose.

Janine turned and pushed up her white shirtsleeves. She did this when she was about to give me her standard pop-the-cherry lecture. "You're the only virgin left at this high school, you know," she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Tia nodded in energetic agreement. "Yeah. We've been so patient with you."

"But I'm not sure Mike is the right guy to do it with the first time," I said.

I'd gotten used to talking frankly with my friends about intimate body matters. How could I not? It was all that seemed to be on anyone's mind: it was on TV, in the magazines we bought, all over the Internet. I had certainly seen a lot of porn. Tia's father and her stepmom kept an ample stash in their bedroom drawer. I knew how people fucked from blow jobs to ass rimming. Yet when it came to thinking about my first time I couldn't keep my skin from flushing red.

I heard a click of fingers.

"Cammie!" Janine snapped. "Where are you?"

I brushed a strand of hair off my face and hoped the sweat I could feel wasn't visible to my friends.

"Sometimes I think you don't care about our friendship," Tia said. "Because if you did, you wouldn't embarrass us by refusing to get laid."

What would it take to get them to leave me alone?

"I'll do it with Mike. This weekend! Are you satisfied?"

My two friends raised their eyebrows at each other.

"We would be if your attitude was a little better," Tia said.

"Cammie's trying, Tia," Janine said. She turned to me. "Do us a favor," she went on. "When he fucks you the first time, just do it in some boring position like on your back. Don't get fancy. Because you don't want to embarrass us by bleeding all over everything. We don't want to hear about that throughout these school halls."

"Oh, God, yes. That's really excellent advice," Tia nodded. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like. And you have to make sure you don't become the stuff of locker-room jokes."

Tia had lost her virginity over a year ago, and to us three teens it was as if the event had occurred in prehistoric time. "You don't want your blood everywhere. And, you know, there is likely to be blood."

Great, I thought, staring at the ground, hoping that my emotions on the subject weren't too apparent, though by now I was pretty well resigned to being made fun of for my virginity.

"Anyway," Janine went on, "it'll be over before you know it. A little pop, a little pain, a little mess."

"Ouch," Tia chimed in. "Then: ooooh."

I shuddered while my friends burst into giggles. Why did the whole thing seem like such a cosmic hurdle to me and to no one else?

"I just hope you're right that it's best to sleep with a guy you don't care about first time around. Like Mike."

"Well, of course we're right!" Janine's brown eyes were wide with indignation. "Haven't you listened to anything I've said?"

I swung my blue backpack around and clutched it to my chest as though for protection.

"Sure," I said, still keeping my eyes on the ground. "It's just that sometimes I wonder if it isn't more special than that."

I tried to sound confident, but I felt humiliated by my emotions. Why was I so damn vulnerable on this subject? Why did talking this way — even thinking about this subject — make me feel as though I was on the threshold of something extraordinary?

"No, girl, you don't want it to be special," Tia said. "Special is bad. Special is demeaning. That's like something our grandparents would think."

The three of us turned the corner and headed down the long corridor to history class.

The truth is, I did worry about whether or not I was emotionally disturbed about the subject. It shouldn't be a big deal, going to bed with a guy for the first time. But talking — or even thinking — about the moment when I would lose my virginity made me start to tremble with an avalanche of emotions.

A familiar male voice startled me out of my emotions. "Hey, Cammie," Mike said, catching up with me. "So we're on for Saturday?"

"Sure," I replied. Tia and Janine stood back respectfully, exchanging little significant glances. Mike didn't seem to notice.

"Awesome," he said.

He looked pretty awesome himself. Even in the boring school uniform Mike's looks made my body stir. Nothing like playing three sports to keep a guy in shape. He was really an okay guy, too.

But I couldn't help feeling there was nothing special between us as people. He ran his eyes up and down my body, licked his lips, and lowered his eyebrows at me.

"You know you're looking good, baby."

I glared at him indignantly.

"Hold that expression — I like it when you get riled. Well, gotta get to math," he said.

"What a hottie," Tia said, looking after him as he ran down the hall.

"The way he moves," said Janine.

The two girls exploded in laughter as I once again blushed furiously.

* * *

History class turned out to be a video about the Christian conversion of pagan cultures.

As I sat in the dark and watched the images of chalices and robes, I thought about my upcoming date with Mike. He had a driver's license and would pick me up at my place. Then a restaurant. Maybe a movie.

Then afterwards ... that was the big question. I was secretly hoping his parents would be out for the night, so we'd have his house to ourselves. Otherwise we'd be stuck in the car, and that seemed a little tacky. At his place, there were beds, sofas — towels, too, for easy cleanup.

But my mind was operating on two levels, and as I methodically and practically tried to anticipate what was to come on my date, another feeling entirely was moving through me, its origins not in my head but my body.

And then it took over my brain.

Everyday images of schoolbooks and desks and students were flushed out, and different images took their place. I was floating above myself, watching.

I saw myself in a lovely white gown, lying on my back. The sleeves were trimmed with antique lace. As I looked down at myself I saw that I was beautiful, with my hair flowing around my face and onto the black and gold marble slab on which I lay.

My eyes were open, stunned and terrified. For a moment I stared at this image of myself. Was it a dream me? A future apparition? But now I was inside whatever it was, looking out. The fear I thought I saw was, in fact, a feeling of awe. I was in the presence of a power greater than any I had ever known.

What was that around my ankles? My arms and legs were manacled. And even as I struggled to get free, I worshipped the strength of the steel and chains that bound me.

I could not escape whatever was in store for me. I heard the heavy steps of boots, followed by the staccato sound of high heels. I fought against my chains now, my body writhing in my elegant prison as much from excitement as from fear.

Then I felt the soft, sweet touch of a woman's hands on my head. She put a blindfold over my eyes, and kissed me on the lips. I greeted her tongue with my own. I could not see who she was, but I gave myself to her completely. Now where was she? Ah, I felt her hands running over my breasts. My dress must be made of a deliciously sheer material. I arched my body up to meet her touch.

But she pulled away from me. I wondered where she could be. Then I felt my blindfold being removed and I saw a man in a hood suddenly before me!

He loomed like a giant — naked, muscular. And the size of that thing! His dick was enormous. The woman was now pulling my legs apart, roughly, no longer soothing. The man was stroking his cock as he moved between my knees. And it seemed to grow even more.

A leather strap appeared in his hands, and he wrapped it around his balls and cock. I glanced at the man. And once again his member grew. It would hurt like a knife slicing through me and yet this was how it was supposed to happen. ...

I felt a thwack! on my arms and popped out of my fantasy. Janine was leaning towards me, rolling her eyes.

"Jesus, what's with you today?" she whispered. "You've been off in Cammie-land for the last fifteen minutes!"

The video was still running on the screen in front of the class, showing images of native children taking their first Communion.

I straightened myself, then saw Sarah Walker, the new girl at St. Theresa with the strange, English-sounding accent. She flashed me a knowing, private smile.

While my two friends peeled off towards geometry class, I hurried to the bathroom.

Thank God no one was in there. I picked a stall, went in, and closed the door. I was still hot and flushed from the images that had possessed me.

There was no way I could get through another class while in this state. I hiked up my skirt, sat on the toilet, slid my hand into my crotch, and gasped at how wet I was.

My breathing grew shorter. I entered into the sensation, trying to stifle my moans. I moved my fingers in the wet tangle. I was growing sweaty, tense, excited, and confused.

In my mind, I struggled with the image of the large naked man and his leather strap and my legs forcibly parted. I needed the images to feed my excitement, yet they caused me such shame that I fought them back at the same time. As I remembered the thrusts he gave me in my vision, I slid my fingers into me. They couldn't begin to give me the rich and brutal pleasure the man had. I quickly searched through my purse and got out an elastic hair band and wrapped it around two of my fingers. I looked at it, imagining it to be the ring on the man's cock. Now I poised it at my needy hole.

I heard the bathroom door open. I stopped and peered through the crack in the stall.

Great, Sarah Walker. She had begun attending St. Theresa's only two weeks ago. There was an air of mystery about her. First, there was the accent. It was British, but as though she was born in some far more exotic country.

Then there was the fact that nobody could figure her out. Was she rich? Was she poor? No one seemed to know. I knew exactly where the rest of my classmates stood. Who was spoiled, who had two after-school jobs, and who was somewhere in between.

Janine claimed to know for sure that Sarah's family was actually trailer trash and doing their best to disguise it with their fancy way of speaking.

Janine might put her down, but I thought Sarah was amazingly sophisticated with her short, chic cropped hair. I suspected the blackness of it was a dye, because Sarah's skin was so fair. And her posture! It made the standard Catholic-school uniform look like a fashion statement. She didn't sex up the look the way Janine and Tia did. Yet, Sarah was hotter, like someone who'd just dropped in from the best party in a big city. Nobody this rad could be trailer trash.

The bell for the next class gave its shrill ring.

I hated being late. I jumped up and wiped my crotch as dry as I could. I gave my G-string a fast spray of perfume and pulled it on.

"Hello, who's in there?" Sarah asked in her crisp yet seductive accent.

I emerged from the stall, doing my best not to look red-faced.

Fortunately Sarah seemed pleased to see me.

"Oh, it's you, Cammie dearest. I'm so glad," she said, giving me an inquiring look. "My goodness. You look as though you're running a fever. Are you all right?" Her voice was a crystalline purr.

"Yeah," I said. "Though I don't know. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

Sarah marched over and put her hand on my forehead.

I flinched, then let Sarah feel my temperature. Her hand was pleasantly cool.

"You are a bit warm, and even sweaty," said Sarah.

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry," I said, covering my mouth. "I don't mean to —"

"I'm hardly concerned about a few worldly germs," Sarah said.

She clicked open the plush scarlet purse that she always had with her. It was a red velvet clutch — the kind of unhip thing no one else would have dared carry in high school.

"I have just the thing for you," Sarah said, removing an old-fashioned jar. I gasped at its beauty. "Isn't it lovely?" she said. "It's cloisonné."

As Sarah daintily unscrewed the gilded top, I stared entranced at the exquisite, bejeweled little jar, with its latticework and tiny symbol-like curlicues.

"It's so amazingly beautiful," I said.

"I know," said Sarah. "Now hold out your left hand."

I did as I was told, and Sarah gave the jar a gentle shake. Tiny glistening lavender-colored flower petals — or were they butterfly wings? — fell into my palm. They seemed weightless. "If we put this on your eyelids, it will make you feel much better."

With her index finger, Sarah touched the dainty heap of glistening things in the palm of my hand. The petals — or whatever they were — turned into an iridescent powder.

"Let me help you," Sarah said.

I obediently lowered my lids, and felt the slight pressure, as the English girl applied the strange powder.

"There," Sarah said. "Now take three deep breaths, and you will start to feel wonderful."

And did I ever! My feelings of franticness and vulnerability flew out of me. My breathing got deeper and calmer with each inhale and exhale.

"Wow, that's amazing," I said. "What is that stuff?"

I opened my eyes and glanced at myself in the dingy bathroom mirror. I even looked better. The thick pale purple color Sarah had put on my eyelids wasn't something I would ever have thought to wear. Yet it brought out the blue in my eyes, and it did something else, too. What was it? In any case, I adored how I now looked.

"It works for you," said Sarah. "Isn't that enough to know?"

I nodded happily. I was no longer the embarrassed virgin who felt she had to apologize to Janine and Tia. Here was an image of myself I could really go for: womanly, a little mysterious, triumphantly beautiful.


Excerpted from Deep Inside by Polly Frost. Copyright © 2007 Polly Frost. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Elle columnist E. Jean Carroll called POLLY FROST "So funny and so wildly intelligent, she is the Edith Wharton of her generation." Polly's humor and journalism has been published in The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Atlantic and many other magazines. Her books include Deep Inside: Extreme Erotic Fantasies, With One Eye Open, Rescue Dog, and The Bannings. Her plays include The Last Artist in NYC (written with Ray Sawhill), selected for Best American Short Plays 2008–2009, and Sex Scenes. She toured her first one-person show How to Survive Your Adult Relationship with Your Family around the country in 2011/2012 and is now currently touring her new show Bad Role Models and What I Learned from Them.

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Deep Inside: Extreme Erotic Fantasies 2.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 10 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book sounded great... at first. After reading just a single story I was totally unsatisfied. I have read only four and don't really have the ambition to read any more. the four that I have read deals with too much death sex for my taste. I have read lots of other errotic books, but they were better than this one.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Just in case a blurb at the front of the book from Ron Jeremy saying ¿If I directed some of these fantasies, I¿d either be the world¿s greatest adult-film director¿ or I¿d be in jail.¿ isn¿t enough to get you to check out this book of ten supernatural erotica stories let¿s move on to a proper review. BR It¿s amusing that Frost starts this collection out with a virgin sacrifice/Catholic school girl combo, ¿The Threshold¿. Frost doesn¿t just pop main character Cameron¿s cherry, she takes the reader out of their normal world and over her own threshold into another world. In this tale Cammie must chose between the weird, magical promises of a girl who might just want to do her harm and promises of a special, extraordinary life over the fate of becoming just as ordinary as her mother. Best of all is the unanswered question Frost leaves behind, making the reader wonder whether the real story was a girl¿s voyage into womanhood or whether a greater story was lost to teenage passion. BR ¿The Orifice¿ is a wild, startlingly sexy tale of fetishes. It¿s more than that, because the characters are more than just their piercing/pain fetishes. Frost manages to take something considered ¿weird¿ and ¿freaky¿ and not just explain it to readers but to make it sound incredibly appealing, amplified by creating a world where the wildest sex dreams can come true. BR ¿The Dominatrix Has a Career Crisis¿ is about a horribly self absorbed woman who suddenly learns that coasting by on artificially inflated self esteem and glorying at other peoples¿ misfortunes will only take her so far. The transition from the previous story, an incredible erotic piece, to this one is a bit jarring. This is almost a social science fiction piece in the speculative commentary vein of Jennifer Pelland and Paolo Bacigulpa. Despite it¿s obnoxious main character it¿s amusing, and a complex tale with an erotic BDSM flavor. BR Addressing sex addiction to the point of making it a squiggly, wet, separate creature ¿The Pleasure Invaders¿ follows a desperate cop, addicted to the erotic touch of seemingly unintelligent aliens and yet charged with stopping the important of this contraband. Frost nails the addict mentality, threading even the non-sexual parts with a heightened sense of eroticism that puts the readers directly into a mind obsessed. BR With ¿Viagra Babies¿ Frost keeps to the science fiction flavor and continues from sex addict to what happens to those naturally resulting from sex addiction. After a pandemic of Viagra street use humanity gave birth to urban legend quality monsters. Children born from the hypersex unions are medicated and isolated lest their supernatural sexual powers drive the Normals mad. Viagra Babies also die shortly after turning eighteen, a hallmark that both the main characters are quickly approaching. A dark science fiction spin that pits sexual heroes against a twisted evil, it¿s also the only story with a male main character. BR From there Frost delves into the speculative realm of horror with ¿Imagine It¿ a disturbing, dark tale amplified by its fierce eroticism. Here Frost journeys into a mental mystery, the female rape fantasy. Traveling on a dagger¿s edge between the powerlessness of the act itself and the perception that all the power is with the female if she or her gender can make a male so out of control that he seeks to take it back, Becca, a best selling sex writer, has been objectified by her readers, herself and even her therapist. She finds confronting and conquering her feeling most liberating, in terribly unsettling ways. BR Following it up with a softer take on horror is ¿Playing Karen Devere¿, a tale of a Hollywood lesbian couple who play more than screen parts after they have several close encounters 'in the name of research' with a sexy, empowered female serial killer on death row. BR ¿Test Drive¿ thrusts us back into the future, where the trend of the porn industry pushing techno
Guest More than 1 year ago
'Deep Inside' is full of live characters, exxxtreme situations, and a surprising amount of humor -- humor that, for a change, adds rather than detracts from the general sexiness. No wonder Ron Jeremy gave the book a blurb! Caution: If you're into romance, or even 'spicey romance,' this probably isn't for you. The fantasies are hot, but they're horror-movie, vampire-movie, Takashi Miike hot, not romance-novel hot. If, on the other hand, you're into crazy Japanese horror, Roger Vadim, Italian giallo films, and Roger Corman, you should feel not just right at home but like you've discovered a favorite new artist. 12 stories, each one a memorable little cult movie in its own right, and each one with its own crazy and wonderful hook and premise. More people would read if more books were like this.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If you enjoyed Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James, you'll love Deep Inside by Polly Frost......This is not even close to being an accurate statement.  This is the worst book that I have ever read, and doesn't even deserve one star.  The book sounded good from the back, but when I started reading it was like what the heck am I reading.  This is the only book in my collection that I will NEVER pick up and read again.  
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Diva_G More than 1 year ago
This read by Polly Frost allows one to be carried away into a world of eroticism! Curl up, relax and enjoy the blissful fantasy presented... You will become hot and bothered desiring... "Deep Inside"...or should I say... Deeper and Deeper Inside!
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