My name is Namiin Stone, and I live in fantasy worlds full of strife and grief--though they are worlds overfull with love and longing, too. Full of a tender ache in the space where darkness and desire coalesce into the surreal, the avant garde, the taboo.
I am an erotic romance incest author and illustrator with a singular story I tell without shame, time and again: a tale of father/daughter romance fraught with tension, with desire, with an inescapable--and sometimes supernatural--need to be together. I write romance and erotic romance set in different established universes, with different iterations of the same characters.
The stories center on an Afro-Arab man named Idris who is--or appears to be--in his seventies, who has gigantism and stands at seven and a half feet tall. He is in love with his biological daughter Ila, who has albinism and is--or appears to be--in her twenties to thirties, depending on the setting. She stands at an average height of five and a half feet tall; she is not small, her father is large.
Idris is controlled and calculated. He can wait as long as he must until an inevitable payoff, teasing out the need in his daughter until she's ready to snap with it. Ila is... Desperate. To tease, to please, to make her father come undone at the slightest provocation.
Between Ila and Idris, there is no hiding their intimacy—familial or romantic. And shibari is often a charged, erotic intimacy between a Master and his submissive. To trust someone so wholly, to trust while trapped in bondage, helpless and vulnerable, is a gift not so freely given. When Idris comes to Ila with his proposal, she is reluctant to give him that gift.
A night of normalcy was all Ila wanted. A night where her familiarity to her husband was not a constant weight hanging heavy above her. And so, that’s what Idris wanted to gift her. Living out that dangerous fantasy presents itself as an invitation to a masquerade ball, and Ila slips her father her plus-one invite under two conditions. The first: the moment they don the masks, they are strangers.
Ila can’t risk touching him in public. She can barely look at him for fear of forgetting their roles. Even the potential of their relationship’s discovery sends her nerves into a sparking haywire. Their frayed edges finally snap during a day of running errands, and she finds herself craving an intense, subjugated intimacy from the only man she’s ever truly loved: her father Idris.