Justine Geoffrey is like nothing you can easily imagine. A world traveler, lecturer, and connoisseur of dark arts, she is becoming something more than human, and stopped identifying as anything other than an omnisexual being years ago. So, unless you're turned on by "the regular stuff" and glasses of water, atomic storms, or hot pics of barely legal teen dust mites, don't even bother. She'd probably eat you alive, mantis-style, if given the opportunity.

Priestess: The Collected Blackstone Erotica by Justine Geoffrey

This collection brings together all four of weird-smut pioneer Justine Geoffrey's acclaimed Blackstone Erotica books: Red Monolith Frenzy, Green Fever Dream, Summonings: Anicka & Kamil, and Summonings: Yvette's Interview. Follow a novice Priestess of the Black Stone as she calls up prehistoric sex gods in the mountains of Eastern Europe, gathers power and partners in the glitzy dungeons of London's BDSM scene, and mates with monsters in subterranean chambers of lust and horror! Learn the backstory of her friends, lovers, and incredibly dangerous enemies. This volume also contains excerpts from Blackstone Book 3, Yellow Sign Bound, and the sci-fi gonzo-erotica Orgy in the Valley of the Lust Larvae. Prepare yourself for transgressive, bizarre sexuality, night-black humour, and cosmic horror! Open yourself to the perverted supernatural world of Justine Geoffrey!


Is Lovecraft sexy? Well...not really, until now. From pre-historic sex gods to modern London BDSM clubs, Justine Geoffrey finds the erotic within the horror, and pushes all the envelopes at once in this gonzo near-pornographic epic. – Nick Mamatas



  • "Like Edward Lee, Justine Geoffrey pushes the limits of explicit sexuality … Blackstone currently represents the most creative and ambitious Mythos erotica."

    – Bobby Derie, author of Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos
  • "F**king magnificent. The best entertainment I've had in ages. Sublime!"

    – BDSM Book Reviews



The scene was something out of a painting by Hieronymous Bosch; like a picture pulled from the insane sketchbook of Austin Spare; my Black Stone-inspired dreams made flesh. An orgy, the number of participants beyond any reasonable attempt to count, perhaps the entire town was on the hill. But unlike any orgy you would imagine, as, much like the hellish paintings it resembled, it was completely, eerily silent. So consumed by our own ecstasy, we had not noticed their arrival, but it was clear that the silent festivities had been under way for a while. Not a single moan escaped into the night, no whisper, grunt or squeal of pleasure or pain. And what sounds there were, the slapping of flesh upon unnaturally hairless flesh, heavy balls on red bottoms, and tongues upon slick grooves and rock-hard pricks, was muted by the stiff wind that now rushed around the hill.