Janine Ashbless's Blog, page 26
February 4, 2018
The Loophole
Gimme that sweet sensation of a throbbing rationalization...
This is EXCELLENT
This is EXCELLENT
February 2, 2018
Making Him Wait: Kay Jaybee guests
I'm off doing housey stuff ... Take it away, Kay! - Janine
Thank you for joining me today on Janine’s fabulous blog. This week I am celebrating the launch of my new look, erotically artistic novel, Making Him Wait. A story of self denial, bondage, discipline, drawing and sculpture, Making Him Wait plays with almost every element of the erotica genre- and then covers it in paint.
Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she's happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas. But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge.
Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. However, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out.
At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted.
Will Maddie's models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time? The only way to find out is to wait and see...and the waiting only makes it sweeter!
In this excerpt a young woman called Sara has agreed to model for Maddie in return for help in gaining enough confidence to go commando for her boyfriend , in public, in a skirt that is little more than a belt...
...Realising Sara was lost in her own thoughts, and fairly confident those thoughts concerned sex with her, Maddie adopted a firmer tone. “You do want to get this done for Jake, don’t you? If you have changed your mind about going commando, then I have to know now so we can change things.”
Visibly pulling herself together, Sara took a deep breath. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. Jake will love it – I just have stage fright, that’s all.” She forced herself to raise her eyes to meet Maddie’s and, with her chest tightening, said, “And yes, if you are still up for it, then the plan we agreed last week would be good.”
“Excellent.” Maddie stood up straight and dropped her hands from Sara’s shoulders. “Well, as you can see, I am wearing similar clothes to your own, as discussed. I, however, have gone commando. You, I can see, have not. I understand that it isn’t exactly nice weather out there today, which is presumably why you didn’t walk here panty free?”
Both women knew that the fact it was unseasonably cold for a summer’s day was not the reason that Sara had failed to leave off her undergarments. But Sara was grateful for being given the opportunity to blame the dull drizzle for her last minute failing of nerve before she’d left home.
“Exactly. I didn’t want to catch a cold.”
Keeping up the pretence, Maddie picked up the high, pine barstool Sara was to lean over and put it exactly where it had been positioned during the other three sittings. “Well then, if you take off those undies and stand by the stool we’ll crack on?”
Sara’s hands shook as she edged down her knickers, trying not to notice that the fabric was rather damper than it should have been as she slid them to the floor.
Once the small scrap of black material was placed gingerly on the end of the bed, Sara walked to the stool and hovered uncertainly, wondering if Maddie really was going to do as she’d promised last week or if, now she’d got her model this far, she wouldn’t feel the need to keep her side of the bargain.
Maddie picked up her mobile. “Do excuse me for a second, Sara. I must answer these two messages before we start.”
Theo had been getting impatient...
Maddie smiled as she typed.
Keeping the phone in her hand, she walked toward Sara. With each stride Maddie lifted the hem of her skirt a fraction at a time, aware how much she was teasing Sara with every centimetre of flesh she revealed. As she reached the end of the bed, Maddie, keeping her bare feet inflexible on the floor, flipped the remainder of the skirt up to show her rounded peach of a backside. Then, spreading her legs, she leant over the end of the bed, her chest buried in the duvet, her back arched upwards so Sara could clearly see her pussy.
The sharp intake of breath the model gave echoed around the room, but Maddie pretended she hadn’t heard it. “Do you want to look closer, honey? You could reassure yourself that we are all the same underneath. We are all vulnerable, all written to the same design code and yet somehow we are all unique.” The artist spoke softly, but with a matter of fact nature that belied the provocativeness of what she was doing.
Her fingers parted her butt cheeks so that Sara could see her vulva in all its majesty. “If all our cunts were the same, then I would be able to draw in any old pussy. And where would the fun be in that? How fabulous that we are all different – all those new, stunning, unique and tasty treats to explore.”
Maddie said nothing else. Every word she had uttered had turned her on and she hoped that she was having the same effect on Sara.
Taking a step towards the artist, her heart thudding, her head bursting with a curiosity that wanted to touch as well as see, Sara crouched behind Maddie. Allowing the haunting music emanating from the stereo to wrap around her, Sara’s eyes took in every fold and shining wet line of the inviting flesh before her.
Twisting her neck round so she could watch Sara examining her with wide, emerald eyes, Maddie eventually broke the silence. “You can if you want to.”
“I can what?” Sara’s voice was husky as she asked, even though she knew the answer to the question.
“You can touch. See what it feels like. It seems only fair because I shall be examining you intimately as I prepare to capture your sexual essence on the canvas.”
“Will you need to touch me, then?” Sara couldn’t quite keep the edge of longing from her voice. Maddie was sure that the girl hoped and feared in equal measure that the answer would be yes.
Expertly keeping her own desire under control, Maddie’s reply was uncaringly breezy. “I would never dream of touching anyone if they didn’t wish me to, but I find I can get a better idea of the type of stroke to use with my pastel or paints if I can feel the texture for myself. It is always up to the individual model entirely.”
“Oh.” That was all Sara could say and Maddie privately speculated how much sweet honey was already flowing from her model’s private parts.
Sara’s fingers were only inches away from the artist. It wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean forward, touch Maddie’s flesh and discover what another woman felt like for the very first time.
Finally, breaking the silence, Sara whispered, “I’m pretty sure my boyfriend would be willing me on if he was here. Jake is pretty much into everything, women, men, straight, kinky; and he’s always had serious fantasy issues about seeing me with another woman.”
Maddie smiled kindly. “I honestly don’t think I’ve met a bloke who doesn’t hope to see his woman with another female, honey.”
Dropping her eyes to the floor, not daring to look at the artist’s succulent folds any longer, Sara spoke as if thinking out loud. “But would he be quite so pleased, if he wasn’t able to witness it for himself? I don’t think Jake would like me to have a woman without him watching.”
“Then don’t tell him.” Letting her matter-of-fact answer sink in, Maddie let go of her rump cheeks, and while she lay waiting for Sara’s decision, she quietly tapped into her phone.
Knowing that Sara was too wrapped up in her own battle between wishing to touch and being afraid to, Maddie read and responded to Theo’s instant reply.
If you would like to learn more about Sara, Jake, and - of course - Theo, then you can buy Making Him Wait from all good retailers, including...
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Kobo
Barnes and Noble
iTunes
Kay Jaybee was awarded Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the Erotic Trade Associations.
Kay Jaybee has over 150 publications to her name, including the novels Making Him Wait, (Sinful Press, second edition, 2018), and The Fifth Floor - The Perfect Submissive Book One (KJ Books, third edition, 2017). She has also written the novellas Wednesday on Thursday (KJ Books, 2017), Take Control (1001Nights Press, 2014), Digging Deep, (Xcite Press, 20153), A Sticky Situation (Xcite Press, 2013), and Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (1001 Nights Press, 2014). She has written the anthologies The Collector (KJBooks, 2016), and A Kink a Day Books 1-3 (available via the Radish reading app).
Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at her
Website
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads
Brit Babes Site
Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash
Thank you for joining me today on Janine’s fabulous blog. This week I am celebrating the launch of my new look, erotically artistic novel, Making Him Wait. A story of self denial, bondage, discipline, drawing and sculpture, Making Him Wait plays with almost every element of the erotica genre- and then covers it in paint.
Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she's happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas. But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge.
Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. However, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out.
At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted.
Will Maddie's models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time? The only way to find out is to wait and see...and the waiting only makes it sweeter!
In this excerpt a young woman called Sara has agreed to model for Maddie in return for help in gaining enough confidence to go commando for her boyfriend , in public, in a skirt that is little more than a belt...
...Realising Sara was lost in her own thoughts, and fairly confident those thoughts concerned sex with her, Maddie adopted a firmer tone. “You do want to get this done for Jake, don’t you? If you have changed your mind about going commando, then I have to know now so we can change things.”
Visibly pulling herself together, Sara took a deep breath. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. Jake will love it – I just have stage fright, that’s all.” She forced herself to raise her eyes to meet Maddie’s and, with her chest tightening, said, “And yes, if you are still up for it, then the plan we agreed last week would be good.”
“Excellent.” Maddie stood up straight and dropped her hands from Sara’s shoulders. “Well, as you can see, I am wearing similar clothes to your own, as discussed. I, however, have gone commando. You, I can see, have not. I understand that it isn’t exactly nice weather out there today, which is presumably why you didn’t walk here panty free?”
Both women knew that the fact it was unseasonably cold for a summer’s day was not the reason that Sara had failed to leave off her undergarments. But Sara was grateful for being given the opportunity to blame the dull drizzle for her last minute failing of nerve before she’d left home.
“Exactly. I didn’t want to catch a cold.”
Keeping up the pretence, Maddie picked up the high, pine barstool Sara was to lean over and put it exactly where it had been positioned during the other three sittings. “Well then, if you take off those undies and stand by the stool we’ll crack on?”
Sara’s hands shook as she edged down her knickers, trying not to notice that the fabric was rather damper than it should have been as she slid them to the floor.
Once the small scrap of black material was placed gingerly on the end of the bed, Sara walked to the stool and hovered uncertainly, wondering if Maddie really was going to do as she’d promised last week or if, now she’d got her model this far, she wouldn’t feel the need to keep her side of the bargain.
Maddie picked up her mobile. “Do excuse me for a second, Sara. I must answer these two messages before we start.”
Theo had been getting impatient...
Theo: What are u doing
Theo: I have work too woman – and I can’t concentrate with this bloody hard on! For fucks sake Maddie – tell me what u are doing right now!
Maddie smiled as she typed.
Maddie: I’m about to calm a nervous client by showing her my pussy.
Keeping the phone in her hand, she walked toward Sara. With each stride Maddie lifted the hem of her skirt a fraction at a time, aware how much she was teasing Sara with every centimetre of flesh she revealed. As she reached the end of the bed, Maddie, keeping her bare feet inflexible on the floor, flipped the remainder of the skirt up to show her rounded peach of a backside. Then, spreading her legs, she leant over the end of the bed, her chest buried in the duvet, her back arched upwards so Sara could clearly see her pussy.
The sharp intake of breath the model gave echoed around the room, but Maddie pretended she hadn’t heard it. “Do you want to look closer, honey? You could reassure yourself that we are all the same underneath. We are all vulnerable, all written to the same design code and yet somehow we are all unique.” The artist spoke softly, but with a matter of fact nature that belied the provocativeness of what she was doing.
Her fingers parted her butt cheeks so that Sara could see her vulva in all its majesty. “If all our cunts were the same, then I would be able to draw in any old pussy. And where would the fun be in that? How fabulous that we are all different – all those new, stunning, unique and tasty treats to explore.”
Maddie said nothing else. Every word she had uttered had turned her on and she hoped that she was having the same effect on Sara.
Taking a step towards the artist, her heart thudding, her head bursting with a curiosity that wanted to touch as well as see, Sara crouched behind Maddie. Allowing the haunting music emanating from the stereo to wrap around her, Sara’s eyes took in every fold and shining wet line of the inviting flesh before her.
Twisting her neck round so she could watch Sara examining her with wide, emerald eyes, Maddie eventually broke the silence. “You can if you want to.”
“I can what?” Sara’s voice was husky as she asked, even though she knew the answer to the question.
“You can touch. See what it feels like. It seems only fair because I shall be examining you intimately as I prepare to capture your sexual essence on the canvas.”
“Will you need to touch me, then?” Sara couldn’t quite keep the edge of longing from her voice. Maddie was sure that the girl hoped and feared in equal measure that the answer would be yes.
Expertly keeping her own desire under control, Maddie’s reply was uncaringly breezy. “I would never dream of touching anyone if they didn’t wish me to, but I find I can get a better idea of the type of stroke to use with my pastel or paints if I can feel the texture for myself. It is always up to the individual model entirely.”
“Oh.” That was all Sara could say and Maddie privately speculated how much sweet honey was already flowing from her model’s private parts.
Sara’s fingers were only inches away from the artist. It wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean forward, touch Maddie’s flesh and discover what another woman felt like for the very first time.
Finally, breaking the silence, Sara whispered, “I’m pretty sure my boyfriend would be willing me on if he was here. Jake is pretty much into everything, women, men, straight, kinky; and he’s always had serious fantasy issues about seeing me with another woman.”
Maddie smiled kindly. “I honestly don’t think I’ve met a bloke who doesn’t hope to see his woman with another female, honey.”
Dropping her eyes to the floor, not daring to look at the artist’s succulent folds any longer, Sara spoke as if thinking out loud. “But would he be quite so pleased, if he wasn’t able to witness it for himself? I don’t think Jake would like me to have a woman without him watching.”
“Then don’t tell him.” Letting her matter-of-fact answer sink in, Maddie let go of her rump cheeks, and while she lay waiting for Sara’s decision, she quietly tapped into her phone.
Maddie: I am laid across my studio bed showing another woman my pussy. I am so wet.
Knowing that Sara was too wrapped up in her own battle between wishing to touch and being afraid to, Maddie read and responded to Theo’s instant reply.
Theo: If u fuck her will u tell me about it afterwards?
Maddie: If ur good. But she has to decide...
If you would like to learn more about Sara, Jake, and - of course - Theo, then you can buy Making Him Wait from all good retailers, including...
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Kobo
Barnes and Noble
iTunes
Kay Jaybee was awarded Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the Erotic Trade Associations.
Kay Jaybee has over 150 publications to her name, including the novels Making Him Wait, (Sinful Press, second edition, 2018), and The Fifth Floor - The Perfect Submissive Book One (KJ Books, third edition, 2017). She has also written the novellas Wednesday on Thursday (KJ Books, 2017), Take Control (1001Nights Press, 2014), Digging Deep, (Xcite Press, 20153), A Sticky Situation (Xcite Press, 2013), and Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (1001 Nights Press, 2014). She has written the anthologies The Collector (KJBooks, 2016), and A Kink a Day Books 1-3 (available via the Radish reading app).
Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at her
Website
Goodreads
Brit Babes Site
Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash
January 31, 2018
On my knees
"PLEASE approve my mortgage! Pleaaaaaaaase!!!"This painting, Jupiter and Thetis, by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1811), is for kinky fans of big brooding men and supplicant women. In the original legend Thetis, the sea-nymph, goes to ex-boyf Zeus to beg him to intervene in the Trojan War on behalf of her mortal son, Achilles. It works, btw.Things I have learned during the half-year house-moving process:
Mr Ashbless must love me very very much.If you e-mail any British company with an offer of money for their advertised services, the chance of you getting any response whatsoever is about ... 40% tops. If you really want them, phone.Banks are incompetent. Like, unbelievably incompetent. We've lost track of the number of times we've phoned or sent them information/money, only for them to fail to log it in the computer and deny any record that they've ever spoken to us. Repeatedly. HSBC actually sent us a crate of wine to apologise for arsing us around for months, but I still hate them.If you are trying to get a interest-only mortgage, when they ask you how you're going to pay it off, FFS do NOT regale them with talk of savings, investments, rental income, inheritances or any carefully-worked financial plan you have. That will just bring everything to crashing halt. The magic words are, "We will make regular overpayments." That is all they want to hear and all they will accept.There is NOTHING you can do to your old house to make people buy it. They either like it or they don't, and buyers are mostly crazy. Just Febreze the shit out of everything and cross your fingers.The whole chain system is bolloxed. How ANYONE ever manages to synchronise with half-a-dozen other buyers + lenders/solicitors/removal companies to move house on the same bloody day is absolutely beyond comprehension. We didn't even try, in the end.
Anyway, it's all signed, sealed and hopefully soon will be delivered. We've even accepted an offer on our old place!
2018 FTW!
January 29, 2018
Blue Monday: L N Bey guests
Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!
Today's guest is L N Bey with an excerpt from their short story Girl B, included in Dancing With Myself: Stories of Self-Love Erotica, which is a new anthology from Sexy Little Pages .
Nine sizzling, sexy stories of self-love and self-discovery, edited by (and with a story from) Jillian Boyd, featuring Dena Hankins, T.C. Mill, Jordan Monroe, Leandra Vane, LN Bey, Jones, Hollis Queens and Rachel Woe.
In this sensually spellbinding collection, nine authors explore just a couple of the ways one can get themselves off – stories that don’t just home in on the how, but explore the why, and the “oh... oh my”. Dancing With Myself delves into the heads and between the sheets of a long-distance submissive and her dominant, a cam girl reminiscing, an artist entranced with her unusual subjects and many more.
“Don’t you want to know how the story ended?” Angie said.
“What story?” Bree asked.
“The one I read to Trey.”
“You told me. The woman had suggested it herself.”
“That was the twist. But they all lived happily ever after, happier than they were before, even.”
“With another slave girl in the house? I doubt that.”
“No really, they did. Because the new girl wasn’t there to replace her. He brought her in to serve her.”
“What?”
“And him too, of course. It’s got this long threesome scene. They made her do everything. Did everything to her. Both of them. They kept her very busy—had her tied up, tied down, oh my God. It ends with these hints of all the things they had yet to do, every day, for ever and ever.” She tilted her head and smiled an innocent, angelic smile.
Bree felt hot blood rush to her face.
“They decided to call her Girl B. And the main character was Girl A.” Angie leaned forward. “Get it? Angie, Girl A? Bree, Girl B?” She gestured to Bree. “It was all right there in the story! It’s perfect. Who else would I suggest, when he asked me? Some stranger off the internet? It had to be someone I trusted. And who I thought was hot.”
Bree folded her arms. She had never really thought of herself as especially hot. “I can’t tell if you’re serious, or just messing with me.”
“Why don’t you ask the Master himself?” Angie said. “Hey, baby.”
Bree turned.
Trey.
He was standing on the sidewalk, on the other side of the iron railing that separated the café from the moving lines of downtown shoppers. He was wearing his usual sawdust-covered jeans, but with a decent buttoned shirt and a black sports jacket. His hair was heavy and wavy, and he was wearing wraparound sunglasses that hid his eyes.
He looked good. Very good.
“Hello, ladies,” he said, leaning on the rail behind Bree.
“Hi, sweetie,” Angie said. Sweetie, after he’d just whipped her ass with a crop. “We were just talking about you.”
How does one stop a blush? Bree tried to think about work.
“Hi, Trey,” she said, but couldn’t quite look him in the eye.
“Bree.” He was smiling. “So, what were you two saying?”
“I was just telling Bree about our recent explorations into contemporary literature.”
“Oh, really! And what are your opinions, Bree? On our recent explorations into contemporary literature?”
“Oh my God, Bree,” Angie said. “Your face is so red.”
* * * *
Bree lay on her back on her bed, every stitch of her clothes somewhere between the door and here; she didn’t know, didn’t care.
She lay spread-eagled, both legs outstretched, one arm reaching up behind her head. Her other hand was toggling her clit ferociously, pressing it hard, pausing only briefly to fuck herself with two fingers. Three fingers. She raised her hips off the bed and moaned.
She kept her legs spread wide, because in her mind she was tied up that way.
Girl B.
She was tied down, ankles and wrists cuffed with ropes running to the bedposts (even though her bed had no bedposts), her body stretched tight.
In her mind, both arms were stretched and bound, but of course that would mean releasing her hand from her clit. Her wet, desperate clit. And she just couldn’t seem to do that.
She moaned again. Trey was telling her to spread wider, to make herself available. To open her mouth. And Trey would kneel on the bed beside her, right by her face, and order her to lick his cock.
“Reach for it,” he would say, and she would crane her neck and reach out with her tongue until she—
Bree came. Hard. She panted as the intense waves of release flowed through her, tensing, tensing, tensing, until she nearly cried out as the relief came.
But it wasn’t enough.
No.
She was still tied down; they were just getting started. Yes.
Where was she? Oh yes—she was licking his hard cock, up and down its shaft, licking his balls, wanting it all in her mouth, wanting him to fill her mouth with his hard dick.
“Beg for it,” Trey would say, and she would.
“Please!” Bree said out loud, and hoped no neighbors heard.
“Now, beg Angie to whip you while you suck my cock.”
Bree couldn’t bring herself to actually say this out loud. “Please, Ange, whip me. Whip me hard while I suck Trey’s cock,” she said in her mind, and he shifted closer to her and grasped her hair and proceeded to fuck her mouth as she tightened her lips around it.
“You heard her—whip her,” Trey would say.
She felt the whip, the crop Angie had told her about, as Angie began to hit Bree, on her breasts as she moaned into Trey’s huge cock (she assumed it was huge); across her stomach, then harder against her spread thighs, spread so, so wide.
God damn it, she thought, as she came again, even harder this time.
“Whip me,” she whispered, out loud. Her entire body shuddered.
Tied up or not, Bree now brought her legs together, squeezed them tight with her hand still inside her, clamped her muscles hard as she rolled to her side and curled into a ball. She shuddered again.
She would not fuck her best friend. No.
But Trey was noticing her ass as she rolled over. (Never mind how she’d done that while tied down so securely.)
“Well, will you look at that, Girl A?” he’d say to Angie. “No whip marks at all on that smooth little ass. I think you’d better fix that.”
And he would recommence fucking her mouth while she begged and cried, the stinging crop heating up the flesh of her backside, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Because she was Girl B.
Her soaking wet fingers found her clit yet again.
Buy Dancing with Myself , edited by Jillian Boyd, at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Sexy Little Pages
LN Bey is the author of the erotic novel Blue and the almost-a-novel collection of erotic stories Villa, to be released later in 2018. Besides being included in Dancing With Myself, LN’s short stories have been published in The Big Book of Submission 2, Best Bondage Erotica 2015, Love Slave: Sizzle, and the soon to be released No Safewords 2. LN’s reviews and essays on BDSM can be found at
www.lnbey.com
Follow LN on Twitter: ln_bey
or on Amazon
Facebook
Website
Today's guest is L N Bey with an excerpt from their short story Girl B, included in Dancing With Myself: Stories of Self-Love Erotica, which is a new anthology from Sexy Little Pages .
Nine sizzling, sexy stories of self-love and self-discovery, edited by (and with a story from) Jillian Boyd, featuring Dena Hankins, T.C. Mill, Jordan Monroe, Leandra Vane, LN Bey, Jones, Hollis Queens and Rachel Woe.
In this sensually spellbinding collection, nine authors explore just a couple of the ways one can get themselves off – stories that don’t just home in on the how, but explore the why, and the “oh... oh my”. Dancing With Myself delves into the heads and between the sheets of a long-distance submissive and her dominant, a cam girl reminiscing, an artist entranced with her unusual subjects and many more.
“Don’t you want to know how the story ended?” Angie said.
“What story?” Bree asked.
“The one I read to Trey.”
“You told me. The woman had suggested it herself.”
“That was the twist. But they all lived happily ever after, happier than they were before, even.”
“With another slave girl in the house? I doubt that.”
“No really, they did. Because the new girl wasn’t there to replace her. He brought her in to serve her.”
“What?”
“And him too, of course. It’s got this long threesome scene. They made her do everything. Did everything to her. Both of them. They kept her very busy—had her tied up, tied down, oh my God. It ends with these hints of all the things they had yet to do, every day, for ever and ever.” She tilted her head and smiled an innocent, angelic smile.
Bree felt hot blood rush to her face.
“They decided to call her Girl B. And the main character was Girl A.” Angie leaned forward. “Get it? Angie, Girl A? Bree, Girl B?” She gestured to Bree. “It was all right there in the story! It’s perfect. Who else would I suggest, when he asked me? Some stranger off the internet? It had to be someone I trusted. And who I thought was hot.”
Bree folded her arms. She had never really thought of herself as especially hot. “I can’t tell if you’re serious, or just messing with me.”
“Why don’t you ask the Master himself?” Angie said. “Hey, baby.”
Bree turned.
Trey.
He was standing on the sidewalk, on the other side of the iron railing that separated the café from the moving lines of downtown shoppers. He was wearing his usual sawdust-covered jeans, but with a decent buttoned shirt and a black sports jacket. His hair was heavy and wavy, and he was wearing wraparound sunglasses that hid his eyes.
He looked good. Very good.
“Hello, ladies,” he said, leaning on the rail behind Bree.
“Hi, sweetie,” Angie said. Sweetie, after he’d just whipped her ass with a crop. “We were just talking about you.”
How does one stop a blush? Bree tried to think about work.
“Hi, Trey,” she said, but couldn’t quite look him in the eye.
“Bree.” He was smiling. “So, what were you two saying?”
“I was just telling Bree about our recent explorations into contemporary literature.”
“Oh, really! And what are your opinions, Bree? On our recent explorations into contemporary literature?”
“Oh my God, Bree,” Angie said. “Your face is so red.”
* * * *
Bree lay on her back on her bed, every stitch of her clothes somewhere between the door and here; she didn’t know, didn’t care.
She lay spread-eagled, both legs outstretched, one arm reaching up behind her head. Her other hand was toggling her clit ferociously, pressing it hard, pausing only briefly to fuck herself with two fingers. Three fingers. She raised her hips off the bed and moaned.
She kept her legs spread wide, because in her mind she was tied up that way.
Girl B.
She was tied down, ankles and wrists cuffed with ropes running to the bedposts (even though her bed had no bedposts), her body stretched tight.
In her mind, both arms were stretched and bound, but of course that would mean releasing her hand from her clit. Her wet, desperate clit. And she just couldn’t seem to do that.
She moaned again. Trey was telling her to spread wider, to make herself available. To open her mouth. And Trey would kneel on the bed beside her, right by her face, and order her to lick his cock.
“Reach for it,” he would say, and she would crane her neck and reach out with her tongue until she—
Bree came. Hard. She panted as the intense waves of release flowed through her, tensing, tensing, tensing, until she nearly cried out as the relief came.
But it wasn’t enough.
No.
She was still tied down; they were just getting started. Yes.
Where was she? Oh yes—she was licking his hard cock, up and down its shaft, licking his balls, wanting it all in her mouth, wanting him to fill her mouth with his hard dick.
“Beg for it,” Trey would say, and she would.
“Please!” Bree said out loud, and hoped no neighbors heard.
“Now, beg Angie to whip you while you suck my cock.”
Bree couldn’t bring herself to actually say this out loud. “Please, Ange, whip me. Whip me hard while I suck Trey’s cock,” she said in her mind, and he shifted closer to her and grasped her hair and proceeded to fuck her mouth as she tightened her lips around it.
“You heard her—whip her,” Trey would say.
She felt the whip, the crop Angie had told her about, as Angie began to hit Bree, on her breasts as she moaned into Trey’s huge cock (she assumed it was huge); across her stomach, then harder against her spread thighs, spread so, so wide.
God damn it, she thought, as she came again, even harder this time.
“Whip me,” she whispered, out loud. Her entire body shuddered.
Tied up or not, Bree now brought her legs together, squeezed them tight with her hand still inside her, clamped her muscles hard as she rolled to her side and curled into a ball. She shuddered again.
She would not fuck her best friend. No.
But Trey was noticing her ass as she rolled over. (Never mind how she’d done that while tied down so securely.)
“Well, will you look at that, Girl A?” he’d say to Angie. “No whip marks at all on that smooth little ass. I think you’d better fix that.”
And he would recommence fucking her mouth while she begged and cried, the stinging crop heating up the flesh of her backside, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Because she was Girl B.
Her soaking wet fingers found her clit yet again.
Buy Dancing with Myself , edited by Jillian Boyd, at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Sexy Little Pages
LN Bey is the author of the erotic novel Blue and the almost-a-novel collection of erotic stories Villa, to be released later in 2018. Besides being included in Dancing With Myself, LN’s short stories have been published in The Big Book of Submission 2, Best Bondage Erotica 2015, Love Slave: Sizzle, and the soon to be released No Safewords 2. LN’s reviews and essays on BDSM can be found at
www.lnbey.com
Follow LN on Twitter: ln_bey
or on Amazon
Website
January 28, 2018
Checklist
My Myers-Briggs profile is INTJ, which apparently means I need to write lists...
Yeah yeah, my handwriting is shitty. I'm a leftie.Yes, the move is on!
January 25, 2018
Alma mater
My recently published story In Appreciation of their Cox is set in the city and university of Durham, in the north of England, though you won't see the name of the university anywhere in the text.
It was an amazing place to live as a student, sort of like Hogwarts - a "city" only in name, because it has a magnificent cathedral, but smaller than most towns, and centred around a wooded historical peninsula.
It has a castle too - which is one of the colleges that make up the university.
Yeah, we we're a privileged bunch in EVERY sense...
Durham was where I did my degree, and though I never rowed, the rowing teams were a very visible part of college life. I certainly knew where the college boat house was.
Durham was where I first discovered that I liked Indian food. It was where I first got drunk (I was a slow starter with a sheltered childhood, okay...). It was where I found LOADS OF FRIENDS who I felt I really had things in common with for the first time in my life. I joined the Games Society, ran my own Call of Cthulhu games, and I started LARPing.
I got laid at last (TOLD you I was a slow starter!). I lost my religion.
Oh the relief
I've still got many of those friends. I'm married to one of them right now. And I still LARP ...
... which is quite frankly one of the reasons I need a bigger house
As I prepare to move house now, in 2018, I'm aware that I don't really attach to places I live. I won't feel sad about moving home - I'm excited by the change. Durham was an exception to that rule, perhaps the only one in my adult life. Leaving in 1989 was difficult and unpleasant, and I don't think I got over it or properly detached for years.
In Appreciation of their Cox is mostly a joyous gangbang story about fit young people - no, I did NOT do that at university, sorry to disappoint y'all - but it's also a nostalgic elegy to a place I will always love and a meditation on letting go.
BUY-LINK
It was an amazing place to live as a student, sort of like Hogwarts - a "city" only in name, because it has a magnificent cathedral, but smaller than most towns, and centred around a wooded historical peninsula.
It has a castle too - which is one of the colleges that make up the university.
Yeah, we we're a privileged bunch in EVERY sense...Durham was where I did my degree, and though I never rowed, the rowing teams were a very visible part of college life. I certainly knew where the college boat house was.
Durham was where I first discovered that I liked Indian food. It was where I first got drunk (I was a slow starter with a sheltered childhood, okay...). It was where I found LOADS OF FRIENDS who I felt I really had things in common with for the first time in my life. I joined the Games Society, ran my own Call of Cthulhu games, and I started LARPing.
I got laid at last (TOLD you I was a slow starter!). I lost my religion.
Oh the reliefI've still got many of those friends. I'm married to one of them right now. And I still LARP ...
... which is quite frankly one of the reasons I need a bigger houseAs I prepare to move house now, in 2018, I'm aware that I don't really attach to places I live. I won't feel sad about moving home - I'm excited by the change. Durham was an exception to that rule, perhaps the only one in my adult life. Leaving in 1989 was difficult and unpleasant, and I don't think I got over it or properly detached for years.
In Appreciation of their Cox is mostly a joyous gangbang story about fit young people - no, I did NOT do that at university, sorry to disappoint y'all - but it's also a nostalgic elegy to a place I will always love and a meditation on letting go.
BUY-LINK
January 22, 2018
Blue Monday
Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!
Today I am delighted to announce that In Appreciation of their Cox - my second self-published venture and the first with a "red for erotica" cover - is UP ON SALE at Amazon and elsewhere
Today I am delighted to announce that In Appreciation of their Cox - my second self-published venture and the first with a "red for erotica" cover - is UP ON SALE at Amazon and elsewhere
January 21, 2018
Fox fight
Damnit, that's all we got ... Still struggling with the camera setup, as you can tell!
January 19, 2018
If a tree falls in a forest...
We've had gales in our wood this week, and the huge dead oak...
... has fallen at last:
It's been standing dead since well before we bought the land, and tbh I'm surprised it took so long to drop. The roots were completely rotted away:
Luckily it seems to have dodged all the other large trees around and laid itself politely down doing the minimum of damage
... has fallen at last:
It's been standing dead since well before we bought the land, and tbh I'm surprised it took so long to drop. The roots were completely rotted away:
Luckily it seems to have dodged all the other large trees around and laid itself politely down doing the minimum of damage
January 17, 2018
"A conclusion with a bang of near-apocalyptic intensity"
The Other Side (1918) Dean Cornwell"The cold, hard, commercial truth of the matter is that without reviews, a book simply languishes on the shelf and ultimately dies for want of notice" - How to Write a Review and Why, Maybe, You Should
And I'm particularly delighted that TAS of Erotica for the Big Brain should write a review of The Prison of the Angels , because it's FABULOUS!
"As always, Ashbless ties it all together with such style, such flare, conveying a sense of inevitability—of ineluctable right-ness—with the plot’s every twist and turn, it’s hard to imagine all hell breaking loose in any other way, Or near half so excitingly, for that matter! Of course, throughout, the sex is wicked hot...
In The Prison of the Angels, as in the books that preceded it, Janine Ashbless has created an extraordinary new world, a “real realm of the spirit” that is a sheer pleasure to visit. Enthusiastically recommended."FULL REVIEW HERE
Thank you TAS!
Buy-links for The Prison of the Angels
