Janine Ashbless's Blog, page 42
March 29, 2017
"Everything fans have been waiting for"
Gustav Dore: illustration from The Divine Comedy (colourised)WOOOHOO!Erotica for the Big Brain has reviewed In Bonds of the Earth and I couldn't be more chuffed!
"It’s a pleasure, then, to report that In Bonds of the Earth is everything fans have been waiting for, taking all the elements that made the first book memorable, artfully supercharging them in a sweeping, action-packed, powerfully erotic story that dazzles with its imaginative employment of real-life settings, elements of ancient lore and legend, and fast-paced contemporary thrillers...
This entry in the series closes with a shattering cliffhanger that will have readers on the edge of their seats, hearts pounding in their throats, and practically howling in half-fulfilled frustration! I felt afterwards as if I’d enjoyed an extraordinary meal—or had really great sex—richly fed to be sure, yet craving still more, able only to dream of 'next time.'
Thank you TAS!
March 27, 2017
Blue Monday: Mistress of the Air cover reveal
Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!
It's just a tease this week, with a cover reveal of a rollicking steampunk novel from S.Nano: Mistress of the Air, due for publication on the 21st April
Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester owns a brass mine in Zanzibar, a Lapsang Souchong tea plantation in China, a rubber farm in Malaysia, trunk loads of corsetry and the country’s largest collection of antique whips.
Larger than life, and itching to find new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen, the Edwardian dominatrix has a vision.
Embracing the spirit of the age of aviation, she embarks on a series of adventures on her airship, ‘The Corseted Domme’, with her transvestite maid, Victoria, her airship pilot, Captain Wyndham and her automaton sex-doll, Borghild.
A select group of submissive gentlemen, consisting of a duke, bishop, lawyer and banker, is invited to join Lady Sally so she can try out her dastardly, electric and steam-powered devices on them.She spanks, whips, and punishes her way across the Empires of Europe, dropping off to visit her aristocratic relatives and friends for afternoon tea.
But Lady Sally’s journey is not uneventful. War is threatening to break out and the Ministry of Aviation want to commandeer her airship for the war effort. And when ‘The Corseted Domme’ has a crash landing, Lady Sally realises there is a stowaway on board intent on sabotaging her airship.
‘Mistress of the Air’ is a genre-crossing comic, Steampunk, erotic adventure as Lady Sally delivers a BDSM kick up the back-side to the Edwardian country house novel.
“Jolly bad luck on the final race, Wyndham. It was a daring move and deserving of greater reward.”
The captain’s face lit up at the compliment. He looked up but couldn’t help but be distracted by the sight of Lady’s Sally’s breasts. Her dress was cut daringly low, and the magnificent orbs of white flesh were pushed up enticingly by her corset and the cut of her gown.
And then she started talking. If Wyndham was embarrassed about what to say to her, he didn’t need to worry. She commanded the conversation and Wyndham listened, bewitched and mesmerised at the vision she laid before him. There was no escape for him. He was pinned into the corner by Lady Sally’s heaving breasts with no escape. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, conscious of the treatment meted out on Monsieur Le Blon, all the time urging himself to focus on her face not her chest, but it was an enormous effort of will when they were practically thrust under his nose.
She spoke of her airship. She described how vast it was going to be, how fast, how powerful, and how high it would fly. She described how sumptuously it would be fitted out. She extolled the virtues of her ocean liner of the air. Wyndham nodded enthusiastically as her breasts swelled and subsided with every excited explication of her venture. She enthused about her designers and engineers who were working on it, of the technical challenges they faced and how they had overcome them. Wyndham stood trapped in the corner of the ballroom like a frightened rabbit in headlights all the time trying to distract himself from the sight of Lady Sally’s enormous décolletage as it heaved up and down in front of his eyes.
Then she proceeded to explain how, as he must certainly know, she was the foremost dominatrix of her age and described with great enthusiasm the dungeon that would be fitted out on the airship, and how excited she was about the adventures she would have, and the whippings, spankings and punishments she would administer to the carefully selected group of submissive gentlemen who would be accompanying her on the airship’s maiden voyage.
“It’s my ambition, Captain Wyndham, to be the Mistress of the Air, yes…a veritable Mistress of the Air, and I envisage you playing a vital role in fulfilling my vision.”
Wyndham’s ears pricked up at those words but he only had the slightest moment to interject with a nervous, “oh really,” before the enormous breasts backed him even further into the corner. Lady Sally continued by praising his aviation skills and the daring manoeuvres she’d witnessed at the flying meeting. Wyndham flushed with pride. She went on, much to the captain’s delight, to say how those French aviators were all show and no guts, and she needed somebody who would take risks for her, to serve her loyally and selflessly. Finally, she wound up her diatribe and came directly to the point.
“Now Captain. I pride myself on my instincts and judgement of character. You see, the matter is I need an airship pilot. I need someone who can share my enthusiasm for air flight and is a skilled aviator. I believe you are my man Wyndham.”
Lady Sally continued extolling the excitement of the new age, how she was going to take her airship on a grand tour across Europe and how he, Wyndham, would be her pilot.
Finally, she concluded, “So that’s all settled then, Captain Wyndham. I can assure you the financial rewards will be considerable. It’s good to have you on board. I’m sure we will share many adventures together. You can report to my airship station at Howden in Yorkshire. My maid, Victoria, will give you all the details.”
With one dismissive wave of a lace-gloved hand she breezed off, leaving the hapless Wyndham gaping in astonishment. He had been swept away by her charisma. He had barely uttered a word. At no point had he agreed to the venture yet he knew in his gut he would accept the challenge. He felt strangely compelled to help Lady Sally fulfil her vision of travel in the largest and fastest dirigible ever to be built.
S. Nano (formerly writing as Slave Nano) is an author of erotic stories with dark and exotic content in fantasy, paranormal or historical settings, often drawing on the themes of female supremacy, BDSM and fetish but with a seam of quirky humour running through them as well.
His first full-length erotic novel, ‘Adventures in Fetishland’, a BDSM/fetish re-invention of Alice in Wonderland, was published by Xcite Books. His short stories and novellas have been published by Xcite Books, House of Erotica, Forbidden Fiction, Coming Together and Greenwoman Publishing.
Website:
Facebook (Nano Vaslen):
Pinterest:
Amazon UK author profile:
Amazon US author profile:
It's just a tease this week, with a cover reveal of a rollicking steampunk novel from S.Nano: Mistress of the Air, due for publication on the 21st April
Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester owns a brass mine in Zanzibar, a Lapsang Souchong tea plantation in China, a rubber farm in Malaysia, trunk loads of corsetry and the country’s largest collection of antique whips.
Larger than life, and itching to find new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen, the Edwardian dominatrix has a vision.
Embracing the spirit of the age of aviation, she embarks on a series of adventures on her airship, ‘The Corseted Domme’, with her transvestite maid, Victoria, her airship pilot, Captain Wyndham and her automaton sex-doll, Borghild.
A select group of submissive gentlemen, consisting of a duke, bishop, lawyer and banker, is invited to join Lady Sally so she can try out her dastardly, electric and steam-powered devices on them.She spanks, whips, and punishes her way across the Empires of Europe, dropping off to visit her aristocratic relatives and friends for afternoon tea.
But Lady Sally’s journey is not uneventful. War is threatening to break out and the Ministry of Aviation want to commandeer her airship for the war effort. And when ‘The Corseted Domme’ has a crash landing, Lady Sally realises there is a stowaway on board intent on sabotaging her airship.
‘Mistress of the Air’ is a genre-crossing comic, Steampunk, erotic adventure as Lady Sally delivers a BDSM kick up the back-side to the Edwardian country house novel.
“Jolly bad luck on the final race, Wyndham. It was a daring move and deserving of greater reward.”
The captain’s face lit up at the compliment. He looked up but couldn’t help but be distracted by the sight of Lady’s Sally’s breasts. Her dress was cut daringly low, and the magnificent orbs of white flesh were pushed up enticingly by her corset and the cut of her gown.
And then she started talking. If Wyndham was embarrassed about what to say to her, he didn’t need to worry. She commanded the conversation and Wyndham listened, bewitched and mesmerised at the vision she laid before him. There was no escape for him. He was pinned into the corner by Lady Sally’s heaving breasts with no escape. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, conscious of the treatment meted out on Monsieur Le Blon, all the time urging himself to focus on her face not her chest, but it was an enormous effort of will when they were practically thrust under his nose.
She spoke of her airship. She described how vast it was going to be, how fast, how powerful, and how high it would fly. She described how sumptuously it would be fitted out. She extolled the virtues of her ocean liner of the air. Wyndham nodded enthusiastically as her breasts swelled and subsided with every excited explication of her venture. She enthused about her designers and engineers who were working on it, of the technical challenges they faced and how they had overcome them. Wyndham stood trapped in the corner of the ballroom like a frightened rabbit in headlights all the time trying to distract himself from the sight of Lady Sally’s enormous décolletage as it heaved up and down in front of his eyes.
Then she proceeded to explain how, as he must certainly know, she was the foremost dominatrix of her age and described with great enthusiasm the dungeon that would be fitted out on the airship, and how excited she was about the adventures she would have, and the whippings, spankings and punishments she would administer to the carefully selected group of submissive gentlemen who would be accompanying her on the airship’s maiden voyage.
“It’s my ambition, Captain Wyndham, to be the Mistress of the Air, yes…a veritable Mistress of the Air, and I envisage you playing a vital role in fulfilling my vision.”
Wyndham’s ears pricked up at those words but he only had the slightest moment to interject with a nervous, “oh really,” before the enormous breasts backed him even further into the corner. Lady Sally continued by praising his aviation skills and the daring manoeuvres she’d witnessed at the flying meeting. Wyndham flushed with pride. She went on, much to the captain’s delight, to say how those French aviators were all show and no guts, and she needed somebody who would take risks for her, to serve her loyally and selflessly. Finally, she wound up her diatribe and came directly to the point.
“Now Captain. I pride myself on my instincts and judgement of character. You see, the matter is I need an airship pilot. I need someone who can share my enthusiasm for air flight and is a skilled aviator. I believe you are my man Wyndham.”
Lady Sally continued extolling the excitement of the new age, how she was going to take her airship on a grand tour across Europe and how he, Wyndham, would be her pilot.
Finally, she concluded, “So that’s all settled then, Captain Wyndham. I can assure you the financial rewards will be considerable. It’s good to have you on board. I’m sure we will share many adventures together. You can report to my airship station at Howden in Yorkshire. My maid, Victoria, will give you all the details.”
With one dismissive wave of a lace-gloved hand she breezed off, leaving the hapless Wyndham gaping in astonishment. He had been swept away by her charisma. He had barely uttered a word. At no point had he agreed to the venture yet he knew in his gut he would accept the challenge. He felt strangely compelled to help Lady Sally fulfil her vision of travel in the largest and fastest dirigible ever to be built.
S. Nano (formerly writing as Slave Nano) is an author of erotic stories with dark and exotic content in fantasy, paranormal or historical settings, often drawing on the themes of female supremacy, BDSM and fetish but with a seam of quirky humour running through them as well.
His first full-length erotic novel, ‘Adventures in Fetishland’, a BDSM/fetish re-invention of Alice in Wonderland, was published by Xcite Books. His short stories and novellas have been published by Xcite Books, House of Erotica, Forbidden Fiction, Coming Together and Greenwoman Publishing.
Website:
Facebook (Nano Vaslen):
Pinterest:
Amazon UK author profile:
Amazon US author profile:
March 26, 2017
March 24, 2017
Bück Dich
Last night I went back to Leeds (The Big City! Twice in one week!) to see a special worldwide cinema screening of the Rammstein: Paris concert. Which was pretty epic!
March 22, 2017
Pub-lic reading
Here are a couple of snaps (courtesy of Nano Vaslen) of the reading I did for Leodis Pagan Circle in a lovely little pub yesterday
March 20, 2017
Blue Monday
Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!
Since I'm off to read smut to a pagan moot tomorrow, a bit of fairy-sex seemed to be appropriate... Here's a no-holds-(or holes)-barred wrestling match from
“Eat, stupid mortal!”
I gave Milkthistle a cold glance. “I said I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll regret it.” She gave me one of her carnivorous grins.“Because it’s time for you to wear this now.” She brandished — not entirely to my surprise — a curved horse-tail the colour of my own fiery hair. It ended in a familiar butt-plug shape of hard leather. It would fit neatly into my ass and the tail would rise at a cocked position from between my cheeks, the hair switching behind me as I walked. I bit my lip as I felt a hungry spasm run up my rear.
Oh God, how my ass missed the Bour Lady’s butt-tether. I’d worn it so long I felt empty without it.
Milkthistle misunderstood my expression. I knew that as I heard her chuckle.
“Don’t be shy,” she hissed. “It’s the Brenhines’ command that you all wear them. Turn round and give me your ass, mortal. I’ll slip it in so sweet you’ll hardly feel it.”
I wanted that. My body, insatiable as ever, burned for it. But that pissed me off. It was almost like wanting to eat their cursed fruit.
“You can try,” I said, getting to my feet and walking off.
I guess I just don’t submit that easily to women. I need them to overthrow me physically first.
Well, Milkthistle certainly rose to the challenge. I’d hardly moved beyond the feeding circle when a bolt of pain struck me on the thigh, so unexpected and so fierce that I twisted and fell, screaming with shock and clutching my leg. I was convinced there’d be blood. I was sure there’d be a wound. But when I dared peek under my clutching fingers there was nothing — no scratch, no mark and, I realised belatedly, no more pain. It was gone as abruptly as it had hit.
I stared up at her as she swaggered over and looked down on me. “Fuck!” I protested.
Grinning like a shark, she lifted a hand to her ropes of blue hair and pulled something from between the twists. It was too small for me to see it between her fingertips. A pin maybe, or an arrowhead. She waited till I knew she was going to do it, and then she threw it at me. The pain hit between my breasts and I thrashed wildly, too agonised this time to scream.
Elf-shot, said the analytical part of my mind. It didn’t help any. What did help was knowing that it was only pain — not real harm. This time I didn’t wait for it to leave me. I gathered my limbs and launched myself at the bitch, bundling her over onto the floor and snatching at her wrists before she had time to arm herself again. I had all the apparent advantages of size and weight — but good God she was strong; far stronger than any human her size would be. She fought with the twisting muscularity of a cat. She screeched like one too, and I was vaguely aware that all the birds overhead were screaming as well. It took all my effort to pin her face-down on the floor, her arms pinned to either side under my knees. I’d learned from the Ganconer’s girl-gang too, and I used my feet in her hair to keep her in place. Her legs thrashed, scissoring. I ground down with my body weight and used one hand to hit her bare ass spitefully.
She howled, humping her ass and spreading her thighs
I’m not proud. I’m not fucking proud of what I did. But I was completely off my mental balance — despairing and horny, scared and angry and lost. Lost was worst of all. My judgement was completely shot. And I hated this vicious little bitch. I whacked her ass until my arm hurt and the smell of her sex was pungent. I slapped her pussy and felt her as wet as a swamp down there. She pushed right up into my kneading hand.
“You fucking like this, do you?” I snarled, bending to stick my head in there and biting hard at her bum.
She spread wider. I shoved fingers inside her cunt. It was like she had no bones. Despite her tiny frame she took all four fingers of my left hand in her hot wet grip and I suspect she could have taken more if I’d dared. I wasn’t terribly gentle as it was. And the horse-tail plug she’d dropped only a moment before was within my reach.
Around the room the shadows flickered and thickened and clustered, like spectators pushing in for a closer view.
“Come on then, bitch — you wear it if you like it so much,” I told her, pushing the stitched leather plug between her cheeks. I saw the dark purse of her asshole open like a mouth to gobble at it, and I plunged it in hard. She was yelping rhythmically now, banging her pelvis up and down on the hides, her cunt sucking my hand. “Not such a great top now, are you?” I spat. “You like this, don’t you? You like this!”
This feeling of dominance was intoxicating. Lust and power bubbled up and overflowed within me — and I cannot presume what it would have made me do. As it happened, I wouldn’t have a chance to find out. Fire cracked across my ass cheeks. The sudden, searing pain made me forgot Milkthistle, and forget how angry and dirty and mean I was feeling. I forgot everything except the importance of getting away from the fire flaring over my flesh. I was yards away from her and piled up against one of the central pillars before I realised what the hell had happened.
The room was full of the Gentry. Foremost, and the focus of my dawning horror, was the Brenin and a woman who stood at his left. He, still wearing his death mask, was wrapped in a voluminous black toga like Virgil pictured at the bottom of the Inferno, and he carried his whip in his hand. I guessed that the woman would be his queen — the Brenhines. She was dressed in the style of a Classical goddess, all in drifting translucent white. Her slender body was perfectly visible through her draperies. Her hair was jet-black but crowned and wound with gold wire, and her golden carnival mask was composed of intricate petals, as if her face were an orchid. Beneath a row of trembling gold beads, her lips were full and dark red, like blood-bruises.
I whimpered, touching the burning weals across my bum-cheeks
Since I'm off to read smut to a pagan moot tomorrow, a bit of fairy-sex seemed to be appropriate... Here's a no-holds-(or holes)-barred wrestling match from
“Eat, stupid mortal!”
I gave Milkthistle a cold glance. “I said I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll regret it.” She gave me one of her carnivorous grins.“Because it’s time for you to wear this now.” She brandished — not entirely to my surprise — a curved horse-tail the colour of my own fiery hair. It ended in a familiar butt-plug shape of hard leather. It would fit neatly into my ass and the tail would rise at a cocked position from between my cheeks, the hair switching behind me as I walked. I bit my lip as I felt a hungry spasm run up my rear.
Oh God, how my ass missed the Bour Lady’s butt-tether. I’d worn it so long I felt empty without it.
Milkthistle misunderstood my expression. I knew that as I heard her chuckle.
“Don’t be shy,” she hissed. “It’s the Brenhines’ command that you all wear them. Turn round and give me your ass, mortal. I’ll slip it in so sweet you’ll hardly feel it.”
I wanted that. My body, insatiable as ever, burned for it. But that pissed me off. It was almost like wanting to eat their cursed fruit.
“You can try,” I said, getting to my feet and walking off.
I guess I just don’t submit that easily to women. I need them to overthrow me physically first.
Well, Milkthistle certainly rose to the challenge. I’d hardly moved beyond the feeding circle when a bolt of pain struck me on the thigh, so unexpected and so fierce that I twisted and fell, screaming with shock and clutching my leg. I was convinced there’d be blood. I was sure there’d be a wound. But when I dared peek under my clutching fingers there was nothing — no scratch, no mark and, I realised belatedly, no more pain. It was gone as abruptly as it had hit.
I stared up at her as she swaggered over and looked down on me. “Fuck!” I protested.
Grinning like a shark, she lifted a hand to her ropes of blue hair and pulled something from between the twists. It was too small for me to see it between her fingertips. A pin maybe, or an arrowhead. She waited till I knew she was going to do it, and then she threw it at me. The pain hit between my breasts and I thrashed wildly, too agonised this time to scream.
Elf-shot, said the analytical part of my mind. It didn’t help any. What did help was knowing that it was only pain — not real harm. This time I didn’t wait for it to leave me. I gathered my limbs and launched myself at the bitch, bundling her over onto the floor and snatching at her wrists before she had time to arm herself again. I had all the apparent advantages of size and weight — but good God she was strong; far stronger than any human her size would be. She fought with the twisting muscularity of a cat. She screeched like one too, and I was vaguely aware that all the birds overhead were screaming as well. It took all my effort to pin her face-down on the floor, her arms pinned to either side under my knees. I’d learned from the Ganconer’s girl-gang too, and I used my feet in her hair to keep her in place. Her legs thrashed, scissoring. I ground down with my body weight and used one hand to hit her bare ass spitefully.
She howled, humping her ass and spreading her thighs
I’m not proud. I’m not fucking proud of what I did. But I was completely off my mental balance — despairing and horny, scared and angry and lost. Lost was worst of all. My judgement was completely shot. And I hated this vicious little bitch. I whacked her ass until my arm hurt and the smell of her sex was pungent. I slapped her pussy and felt her as wet as a swamp down there. She pushed right up into my kneading hand.
“You fucking like this, do you?” I snarled, bending to stick my head in there and biting hard at her bum.
She spread wider. I shoved fingers inside her cunt. It was like she had no bones. Despite her tiny frame she took all four fingers of my left hand in her hot wet grip and I suspect she could have taken more if I’d dared. I wasn’t terribly gentle as it was. And the horse-tail plug she’d dropped only a moment before was within my reach.
Around the room the shadows flickered and thickened and clustered, like spectators pushing in for a closer view.
“Come on then, bitch — you wear it if you like it so much,” I told her, pushing the stitched leather plug between her cheeks. I saw the dark purse of her asshole open like a mouth to gobble at it, and I plunged it in hard. She was yelping rhythmically now, banging her pelvis up and down on the hides, her cunt sucking my hand. “Not such a great top now, are you?” I spat. “You like this, don’t you? You like this!”
This feeling of dominance was intoxicating. Lust and power bubbled up and overflowed within me — and I cannot presume what it would have made me do. As it happened, I wouldn’t have a chance to find out. Fire cracked across my ass cheeks. The sudden, searing pain made me forgot Milkthistle, and forget how angry and dirty and mean I was feeling. I forgot everything except the importance of getting away from the fire flaring over my flesh. I was yards away from her and piled up against one of the central pillars before I realised what the hell had happened.
The room was full of the Gentry. Foremost, and the focus of my dawning horror, was the Brenin and a woman who stood at his left. He, still wearing his death mask, was wrapped in a voluminous black toga like Virgil pictured at the bottom of the Inferno, and he carried his whip in his hand. I guessed that the woman would be his queen — the Brenhines. She was dressed in the style of a Classical goddess, all in drifting translucent white. Her slender body was perfectly visible through her draperies. Her hair was jet-black but crowned and wound with gold wire, and her golden carnival mask was composed of intricate petals, as if her face were an orchid. Beneath a row of trembling gold beads, her lips were full and dark red, like blood-bruises.
I whimpered, touching the burning weals across my bum-cheeks
March 19, 2017
Upcoming Reading at Leodis Pagan Circle
I have been asked to be the Storytime reader this equinox for Leodis, the Leeds Pagan Circle!
It's an open moot at the Bhat'ap pub, in the city centre, so visitors are very welcome.
Merry meet, folks!
March 17, 2017
Guilt, bad advice and tears: Blog-tour roundup #6
Hieronymus Bosch: Ascent of the Blessed (detail)As the
In Bonds of the Earth
blog-tour ascends at last into the light, serenaded by choirs going AWWWAHHHHHHAWWW ... I wipe a tear from my eye and bring you the final details.Over at Sizzling Romance I make a guilty stab at defending my terrible Pantsing ways. I wish I could be more helpful at teaching new authors the Secrets of Writing but, basically it boils down to "I make it all up as I go along." Sorry everyone!
March 15, 2017
"Sub, Exhibitionist, Shamefaced Sadist": Blog-tour roundup #5
James Tissot: Angels Holding a Dial Indicating the Different Hours (1886-1894)First I just want to share author Ian Smith's fantastic 5-star review of
In Bonds of the Earth
over on Amazon:"Well, I found the first book in this series, Cover Him With Darkness, utterly entrancing, and this second one is every bit as good. The overall story arc is like a really dark fairy tale, but revolving around ancient legends rather than recent ones. Azazel remains the same character, in human terms a child in a man’s body, but he’s anything but human. An irresistably attractive, powerful and totally unpredictable fallen angel is the ultimate dom, and a fantastic character.
But come on, Janine. I know the standard advice is to drop your characters outside their comfort zone, but I don’t think you’ve ever let Milja even have a sniff at one of those! She’s endearingly human - a mix of wants, guilt, insecurity, confidence, intelligence and instinct.
This second book was well-worth the wait. And if anyone can nag Janine into hurrying on with the third and final one, please do."AM I TOO MEAN TO MY HEROINE THEN? LOL!
Look at all I do for Milja - I give her a choice between two irresistibly sexy guys! Lucky girl! (Here at After Dark Online I ponder her choice and ask myself which way I'd choose, if it were me.)
I let her meet interesting and very wealthy people who just long to help her out! (Here at Teresa Noelle Roberts' blog I am mildly spoilerish about the very quirky Roshana Veisi and her keen interest in art.)
I take her out to dinner at foreign restaurants! (A sexy excerpt over at the Brit Babes.)
I spend four years lovingly putting her through Hell Heaven! (Jan Graham finds out what my absolute favourite thing about writing erotic romance is.)
And I let her get as kinky as she likes ... even when it shocks me! (Horny Geek Girl hosts me still reeling with shock at how Milja turned out).
So Milja doesn't have anything to complain about really ... does she?
Ebook Buy Links:Amazon, Apple, Google Play, KoboPaperback Buy Links: Buy direct from Sinful Press, Barnes and Noble, Waterstones, Amazon
March 13, 2017
Blue Monday: Juliette Banks Guests
Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!
Today's guest is Rachel de Vine (writing as Juliette Banks) with an excerpt from her new novel The Russian Bride.
Viktor took her to a dark and frightening place. It was the love of James that saved her.
Natasha, a Russian-born woman living in London, catches the eye of Viktor, a middle-aged Russian gangster. He wants her as his wife, the mother of his son, and his submissive partner in the kinky sex he enjoys at his isolated home near Saint Petersburg. But he doesn’t ask her to accompany him – he just takes what he wants. Surprisingly, Natasha begins to accept her new life. Is she really a natural submissive, or has Viktor brainwashed her? Viktor is adamant that he will not have sex with her until they are married, but he shows her just how kinky he likes it by taking her to orgies held by his friend, and tells her that this is the type of life she can expect as his wife.
Everything turns sour, however, and on a visit to London, Natasha has to flee for her life – where a businessman, James Miller, comes to her aid. Over the course of the next few days, Natasha tells James her story, and as horrified as he is, he cannot deny his attraction to the beautiful young woman. He vows to help her.
Neither of them realize quite how much danger they will be in for defying Viktor, but James is willing to risk everything to rescue her from this man. Can he do it? And does Natasha return his feelings?
She was in the library one afternoon, bending over Viktor’s desk, avidly reading a book with illustrated erotic tales, and totally immersed in the work so that she did not hear Viktor come in the room and walk across the carpet towards her. The first she knew of his presence was a hand sliding up the back of her leg and under her dress, towards her bare bottom.
“So, my little English Miss is studying my erotic books, is she?”
Natasha jumped at the sound of his voice and began to stand, but his hand pressed her down again.
“Continue reading, my dear. In fact I’d like you to read aloud, please.”
She began to read, haltingly at first, but then with more confidence. As she did, Viktor lifted her dress up and rested it on her back before running the palm of his hand over her bare bottom and down her thighs. The story was about a woman who was being taken roughly by three men, and each time Natasha said something coarse or erotic, Viktor raised his hand and brought it down sharply on her behind.
Raymond pushed several fingers hard into her cunt, which made her gasp... A hard slap on her buttock was Viktor’s response to her saying those words.
...the two other men grabbed her feet on either side and stretched her wide so Raymond had the fullest access to her cunt...
Another slap, on the other buttock, this time. And so it proceeded. Natasha knew that she was becoming wet from desire, and Viktor saw it too. He bent and spoke gruffly into her ear.
“Reading this excites you, Natasha, you filthy harlot. You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, hoarsely.
“Continue reading, my little slut, and while you do I am going to finger fuck you. I can hardly wait until our wedding night. You won’t be able to walk for days after that.” As she resumed reading, his fingers began to slide through the liquid now pouring from her slit. He found her clit and began to massage it, while pushing two of his fingers into her hole.
Natasha began to pant and found it hard to form the words.
...the two men holding her ankles knelt down and both grabbed the nipple nearest to them and began to pinch it hard, digging their nails into the soft skin while... “Oh sir, I...”
“Don’t stop, little slut.” ...while Raymond rammed four fingers hard into... “Oh, I, please...” “Don’t you dare stop, my little slut.” ...Raymond rammed four fingers hard into her cunt.
Natasha could read no more; so close was she to her climax. She began to moan, rotating her hips and pushing them towards Viktor in an effort to get more of his fingers into her. She wanted him so desperately; not just his fingers but his cock, deep inside her, and she wondered if he would lose control and ignore his plan of marrying a virgin. But she forgot all of that as she spiralled into ecstasy once more. She forgot where she was, who she was, and for a moment even, she was the woman in the book who had two men holding her ankles while the third pushed his fingers inside her.
“Aahh... aahh... Viktor, oh Viktor, if you only could feel what I feel.”
He pressed himself hard against her bare bottom, and the rigid erection in his trousers was a reminder that one day his cock would be hers.
He whispered into her ear. “I want to fuck you so badly, my little Natasha. But we’re so close now. I only have a short time to wait, and it will be better for having waited for you. But now I must go to Lara and Ekaterina. They are going to be fucked very hard tonight. But you, my little slut, you are to wait here, bent over this desk, with your red bottom on display until I return. That is your penalty for reading these naughty books without my permission. When I return, you will feel a few licks of my belt, little girl. Think about that while I am gone.”
He swiftly left the room, bellowing the two women’s names as he did so. Never had Natasha been so envious of her two friends as she was at that moment. She laid her cheek onto the smooth wood of the desk and contemplated what was ahead of her. Viktor had never hit her with a belt before now, and she was very nervous about the prospect. “Don’t worry, Natasha, its not too bad,” Lara had said one day, when they were discussing such things. “You might even enjoy it.”
It was nearly half an hour before Viktor returned. He had his belt in his hand.
“So my little slut likes to read my filthy stories, does she? I think when we’re married, I’ll have you read to me every night, and then I’ll give you five licks with the belt in payment. What do you think of that?”
“I... I’m a little scared, sir. Will it hurt?”
“Well, yes it will. That is the whole point of it. But I suspect that you are becoming a pain slut, and that you will come to enjoy the belt as much as my hand. I will give you just five today, as it’s your first time. Stay still, and don’t put your hands back to protect yourself, or you might damage them.”
The belt whistled through the air and Natasha felt a sharp burning pain on her bottom. “Ow,” was her only response, however. It hurt, but not as much as she had feared. Perhaps Viktor was right. Perhaps she was a pain slut. He ran the palm of his hand over her buttock, where the belt had undoubtedly left a red mark.
Buy The Russian Bride at:
Amazon USAmazon UKAmazon CAAmazon AU
Juliette Banks (who also writes as Rachel de Vine) lives in a rural part of central England. She began writing erotica three years ago. Most of her books also contain some romance too, because she is a hopeless romantic. She adores travelling the world, and would happily combine writing and travelling, if she had no domestic responsibilities.
She has written ten erotic romances (as both Rachel and Juliette) for Blushing Books, and has had a short story published in the anthology For the Men and the Women Who Love Them .
Website
Facebook (Juliette)
Facebook (Rachel)
Today's guest is Rachel de Vine (writing as Juliette Banks) with an excerpt from her new novel The Russian Bride.
Viktor took her to a dark and frightening place. It was the love of James that saved her.
Natasha, a Russian-born woman living in London, catches the eye of Viktor, a middle-aged Russian gangster. He wants her as his wife, the mother of his son, and his submissive partner in the kinky sex he enjoys at his isolated home near Saint Petersburg. But he doesn’t ask her to accompany him – he just takes what he wants. Surprisingly, Natasha begins to accept her new life. Is she really a natural submissive, or has Viktor brainwashed her? Viktor is adamant that he will not have sex with her until they are married, but he shows her just how kinky he likes it by taking her to orgies held by his friend, and tells her that this is the type of life she can expect as his wife.
Everything turns sour, however, and on a visit to London, Natasha has to flee for her life – where a businessman, James Miller, comes to her aid. Over the course of the next few days, Natasha tells James her story, and as horrified as he is, he cannot deny his attraction to the beautiful young woman. He vows to help her.
Neither of them realize quite how much danger they will be in for defying Viktor, but James is willing to risk everything to rescue her from this man. Can he do it? And does Natasha return his feelings?
She was in the library one afternoon, bending over Viktor’s desk, avidly reading a book with illustrated erotic tales, and totally immersed in the work so that she did not hear Viktor come in the room and walk across the carpet towards her. The first she knew of his presence was a hand sliding up the back of her leg and under her dress, towards her bare bottom.
“So, my little English Miss is studying my erotic books, is she?”
Natasha jumped at the sound of his voice and began to stand, but his hand pressed her down again.
“Continue reading, my dear. In fact I’d like you to read aloud, please.”
She began to read, haltingly at first, but then with more confidence. As she did, Viktor lifted her dress up and rested it on her back before running the palm of his hand over her bare bottom and down her thighs. The story was about a woman who was being taken roughly by three men, and each time Natasha said something coarse or erotic, Viktor raised his hand and brought it down sharply on her behind.
Raymond pushed several fingers hard into her cunt, which made her gasp... A hard slap on her buttock was Viktor’s response to her saying those words.
...the two other men grabbed her feet on either side and stretched her wide so Raymond had the fullest access to her cunt...
Another slap, on the other buttock, this time. And so it proceeded. Natasha knew that she was becoming wet from desire, and Viktor saw it too. He bent and spoke gruffly into her ear.
“Reading this excites you, Natasha, you filthy harlot. You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, hoarsely.
“Continue reading, my little slut, and while you do I am going to finger fuck you. I can hardly wait until our wedding night. You won’t be able to walk for days after that.” As she resumed reading, his fingers began to slide through the liquid now pouring from her slit. He found her clit and began to massage it, while pushing two of his fingers into her hole.
Natasha began to pant and found it hard to form the words.
...the two men holding her ankles knelt down and both grabbed the nipple nearest to them and began to pinch it hard, digging their nails into the soft skin while... “Oh sir, I...”
“Don’t stop, little slut.” ...while Raymond rammed four fingers hard into... “Oh, I, please...” “Don’t you dare stop, my little slut.” ...Raymond rammed four fingers hard into her cunt.
Natasha could read no more; so close was she to her climax. She began to moan, rotating her hips and pushing them towards Viktor in an effort to get more of his fingers into her. She wanted him so desperately; not just his fingers but his cock, deep inside her, and she wondered if he would lose control and ignore his plan of marrying a virgin. But she forgot all of that as she spiralled into ecstasy once more. She forgot where she was, who she was, and for a moment even, she was the woman in the book who had two men holding her ankles while the third pushed his fingers inside her.
“Aahh... aahh... Viktor, oh Viktor, if you only could feel what I feel.”
He pressed himself hard against her bare bottom, and the rigid erection in his trousers was a reminder that one day his cock would be hers.
He whispered into her ear. “I want to fuck you so badly, my little Natasha. But we’re so close now. I only have a short time to wait, and it will be better for having waited for you. But now I must go to Lara and Ekaterina. They are going to be fucked very hard tonight. But you, my little slut, you are to wait here, bent over this desk, with your red bottom on display until I return. That is your penalty for reading these naughty books without my permission. When I return, you will feel a few licks of my belt, little girl. Think about that while I am gone.”
He swiftly left the room, bellowing the two women’s names as he did so. Never had Natasha been so envious of her two friends as she was at that moment. She laid her cheek onto the smooth wood of the desk and contemplated what was ahead of her. Viktor had never hit her with a belt before now, and she was very nervous about the prospect. “Don’t worry, Natasha, its not too bad,” Lara had said one day, when they were discussing such things. “You might even enjoy it.”
It was nearly half an hour before Viktor returned. He had his belt in his hand.
“So my little slut likes to read my filthy stories, does she? I think when we’re married, I’ll have you read to me every night, and then I’ll give you five licks with the belt in payment. What do you think of that?”
“I... I’m a little scared, sir. Will it hurt?”
“Well, yes it will. That is the whole point of it. But I suspect that you are becoming a pain slut, and that you will come to enjoy the belt as much as my hand. I will give you just five today, as it’s your first time. Stay still, and don’t put your hands back to protect yourself, or you might damage them.”
The belt whistled through the air and Natasha felt a sharp burning pain on her bottom. “Ow,” was her only response, however. It hurt, but not as much as she had feared. Perhaps Viktor was right. Perhaps she was a pain slut. He ran the palm of his hand over her buttock, where the belt had undoubtedly left a red mark.
Buy The Russian Bride at:
Amazon USAmazon UKAmazon CAAmazon AU
Juliette Banks (who also writes as Rachel de Vine) lives in a rural part of central England. She began writing erotica three years ago. Most of her books also contain some romance too, because she is a hopeless romantic. She adores travelling the world, and would happily combine writing and travelling, if she had no domestic responsibilities.
She has written ten erotic romances (as both Rachel and Juliette) for Blushing Books, and has had a short story published in the anthology For the Men and the Women Who Love Them .
Website
Facebook (Juliette)
Facebook (Rachel)
