Lucy Felthouse's Blog, page 103
December 18, 2017
Second Go-Round (Elite Escorts #2) by Lynn Burke (@AuthorLynnBurke) #giveaway
Blurb:
Christine Gemberling doesn’t enjoy breaking hearts, but she has yet to find a man who knows how to handle the package between his legs well enough to satisfy her needs. No man has held her interest beyond a second date—much less her love. Until one sultry night with an Elite Escort rocks her world like never before.
Professional escort Jarod Zimmerman has a strict code when working with clients—no emotional attachments. But the beer-drinking, football loving Christine and her curves push beyond his control, until the guarded playboy finds himself craving another go-round with the only woman intriguing enough to make him break his own code.
With her defenses stronger than his favorite football team, it will take more than Jarod’s talents in bed to change her stance on relationships. He’ll have to sacrifice his heart when the unexpected circumstance thrown their way threatens to rip them apart forever.
*Warning: Exhibition, spanking, anal sex, sex toys
Purchase Links:
Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/second-go-round-by-lynn-burke/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077ZMFSD8
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B077ZMFSD8
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/765647
*****
Excerpt:
Jarod lowered onto the limo seat beside me and pressed close, his large hand grasping the top of my thigh.
“Where to?” Ricky asked as he settled behind the wheel a moment later.
I spouted off my address quite a ways up Route 1, and with a nod, he shut the window between us, encasing Jarod and I in complete privacy. Soft music came to life, and seconds later, the limo pulled out into Boston’s nighttime traffic.
“For the first go-round, I’m going to fuck you against the front door of your house, but right now,” Jarod said, lowering to his knees in front of me, “I’m going to bury my nose between these thighs and lick your cunt until you squirm.”
“I like the way you think,” I said, my voice breathless, betraying my body’s need.
His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt into a bunch. I wiggled, assisting in his plan, and he yanked me to the seat’s edge.
“Comfy?” he asked, trailing a fingertip against the soaked silk covering me.
“Comfy enough.”
Jarod hooked his fingers under the sides of my panties and pulled them down my legs, releasing my heeled feet one at a time. He tossed the panties aside, and grasping my knees, spread me wide.
“Bare.” He stared at the smooth skin between my thighs as he moved close. “I like that.” Palming my ass, he lifted me and buried his face in my pussy as promised, my moan and his groan colliding in the air between us.
My eyelids fluttered shut and head tipped back as he ate me out like a starving man. Tongue, nose, and teeth, he didn’t pussyfoot around, but tortured me with his need to taste every inch, fuck me deep with his long tongue, nibble my swollen lips … flick and suck my throbbing clit.
My fingers found purchase in his hair, and I ground myself against his face, chasing my orgasm. Bastard let off and dipped low to lick my ass and tongue me every time I neared the crest. I tried to force his head back up to my clit, but he held steady, denying me what I wanted.
“Goddamn it, Jarod!” I yanked on his hair as my clit popped from his mouth’s suction again and he roamed southward to my ass.
He snickered and caught my gaze as his tongue rimmed my puckered hole.
My hold tightened on his hair, my heart thundered in my chest. “Please. I need to come.”
Finally—finally—he pressed two fingers deep into my sopping wet core. “Is this what you need, Christine? My fingers fucking your cunt and my mouth on your clit?”
“Oh, fuck.” My head tipped back again as he latched onto my clit. “Don’t stop. Please … Christ, don’t stop!” You’d think I hadn’t climaxed in months the way my orgasm ripped through me.
Jarod’s fingers and tongue drew out every clench of my pussy, every shudder rippling down through me as I gasped for breath. He lapped up every trace of my cum and sucked his fingers clean, the noises in his throat barely reaching through the ringing in my ears.
I sagged into the leather seat, sucking wind. “Holy shit. It’s no wonder you get paid to please a woman.”
*****
Giveaway:
$25 Amazon Gift Card and Author Lynn Burke mug
Taking place Dec 8th – 22nd
*****
About Lynn Burke:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Links:
Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com
Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/
***Sponsored Advertisements:
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December 17, 2017
Love on Location Now Available in French Language! #mm #gay #romance
Hi folks,
I’m delighted to announce that my M/M erotic romance novella, Love on Location, is now available in French language. Thanks to the fabulous folks at Juno Publishing, you can now get your hands on Les promeneurs de Stoneydale!
Here’s the French-language blurb:
Lorsque Theo Samuels se rend dans le village de Stoneydale pour tourner un film, il s’attend à ce que le drame ait lieu devant la caméra, pas derrière. Mais lorsqu’il rencontre le magnifique villageois Eddie Henderson, il a du mal à ignorer son attirance. Une relation entre eux ne serait pas viable, cependant ils sont très attirés l’un vers l’autre.
Peuvent-ils surmonter les obstacles apparemment infinis entre eux ? Ou leur aventure est-elle destinée à ne rester que cela ?
And here are the purchase links, if you’re so inclined!
Amazon FR
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Juno Publishing
7switch
iBooks
If you know any French speakers that enjoy M/M erotic romance, feel free to let them know! 
December 16, 2017
Under the Mistletoe – MM Romance Book Giveaway! (@instafreebie) #instafreebie #mm #gay #romance
Hi everyone,
Christmas is the time when you want to get somewhere warm, magical and romantic with that special someone…
Or that special book.
The best MM romance authors have come together to bring you hot, sexy holiday reads – absolutely free!
Hurry up! The giveaway lasts only until December 25th!
(Please be aware that if you claim a book, it may mean that you sign up to receive news from this author).
**Under the Mistletoe Giveaway Landing Page**
Happy Reading,
Lucy x
December 15, 2017
New Release! Citadel of Women (Asian Adventures #2) by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)
Blurb
When her lover severs their relationship just before a long-planned trip to Angkor Wat, Doa stubbornly decides to travel alone. The marvelous sights of the ancient Khmer empire do little to heal the rift in her heart. Che, the mercurial young tour guide, senses her loneliness and offers her comfort and passion. Their connection is far more than physical – but how can two people from such different worlds share a future?
Buy Links
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Smashwords | Barnes and Noble | Kobo
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36672227-citadel-of-women
*****
Excerpt
A soft knocking at the door jolted me back to reality. I clutched at the sheet, my heart slamming against my ribs. Maybe whoever it was would go away. The knock came again, more insistent.
“Doa? Are you awake?”
I didn’t have to answer it. If I didn’t answer, he’d have to leave. Wouldn’t he? But was that what I wanted?
I grabbed the batik sarong I’d bought in Bangkok, wrapped it around my body and tied it over my breasts. Liquid trickled down the inside of my thighs as I padded to the door. Musk hovered in the sticky air.
I opened the door. Che stood there, barefoot, clad in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. His hair was tousled. His eyes burned.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured. He stepped into the room. I closed the door behind him.
His arms snaked around me, pulling me to his chest. He was stronger than he looked. He nuzzled my neck, licked his way up to my ear lobe and flicked at it with his tongue. A bolt of pleasure shot through me, targeting my pussy. He silenced my moan with his mouth, capturing mine in a wet kiss. I tasted the beer we’d drunk, the chilies he’d eaten.
I let my arms clasp his slender body to my riper one, accepting what he offered. My rational self warned I’d regret this. When I grasped his rigid cock through the well-worn shorts, his groan drowned out the voice of caution.
As I stroked his hardness, he unknotted my sarong. His hands sought the weight of my breasts. He cradled them, kneading my ripe flesh and tracing voluptuous circles around my nipples. Warm honey flowed through my limbs. I pulled the threadbare boxers down over his lean hips so I could sample his nakedness. A musky funk rose from his privates. His cock was long like his fingers, slender and graceful as the rest of him, and harder than the stones of the ancient city. Wrapped in skin as soft and delicate as a baby’s, it pulsed in my hand, alive with need.
*****
About Lisabet
Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter. Sign up for her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh***
Click here to sign up for my newsletter! Receive all my latest news, information on my new releases and exclusive subscriber-only competitions and special offers! Don’t miss it!
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December 14, 2017
Illicit Relations is FREE on Amazon Until the 18th! #free #mm #gay #romance #ku #kindleunlimited
Hi folks,
Me again! Just a quick note to let you know that my sort-of-taboo M/M romance novella, Illicit Relations, is currently FREE on Amazon from today until the 18th December. So please do grab yourself a copy, and tell all your friends!
Blurb:
Terry’s had a crush on his second cousin Justin for what seems like forever. He’s hidden it as well as possible, knowing that the other man is out of bounds, forbidden fruit. Second cousins getting together isn’t actually illegal, but for Justin the relationship is too close—he just can’t contemplate them being together.
But when some new information comes to light about Terry’s birth and his place in the family, the whole game changes. Suddenly the relationship isn’t so impossible, and things soon begin to get hot and heavy.
Grab your FREE copy here (link will take you to your local Amazon store): http://mybook.to/illicitrelations
Happy Reading!
Lucy x
New Release: Another Dance – Lesbian Romance #lesfic #lesbian #romance #newrelease
Hi everyone,
I’m just swinging by to let you know it’s release day for my lesbian romance short story, Another Dance. And in keeping with the theme, I’m happy dancing
December 13, 2017
Mid Week Tease: She mentally shook herself. #MWTease
Hi everyone,
Welcome back to Mid Week Tease! As I mentioned last week, I’m now moving onto something new. So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce my next novel, Mia’s Men. It’s a reverse harem romance, the first in The Heiress’s Harem series, and is due for release on the 23rd January, and is available to pre-order. This is an UNEDITED snippet, so please excuse any errors.
Mia Harrington thanked James, her father’s butler—her butler now, she supposed—as she stood from behind her father’s desk—now also hers, to welcome her visitor.
“Mr Lenton. Thank you so much for coming, and on such short notice. Please, come in, and take a seat. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”
The grey-haired, bespectacled man gave a tight smile and bustled over to the chair Mia had indicated. “Thank you, Miss Harrington. A glass of water would be fine.” He took a seat, then began removing files and papers from his briefcase and placing them on the desk.
Once Mia had delivered two glasses of water to the desk and taken her own seat, the solicitor fixed her with what was undoubtedly an often-practised solemn expression. “Thank you. May I firstly offer my sincere condolences on the loss of your father? He was a wonderful man, and he will be greatly missed.”
Mia barely resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. She’d received so many condolences and expressions of sympathy in the last thirty hours that she was in danger of drowning in them. In many ways, of course, she deeply appreciated them—it was heart-warming and offered the merest sliver of comfort to know that she wasn’t the only one who’d loved Edward Harrington and genuinely mourned his loss.
It was the sound-bite condolences that drove her crazy, from people that had barely known him, and those she’d never even heard of, let alone met. How could it possibly help Mia to know that Mrs Pipes from the post office in the village was terribly sorry for her loss? And it would only get worse once the death announcement went into the newspaper.
She mentally shook herself. While Mrs Pipes might not matter, Mr Lenton most definitely did. He had been her father’s solicitor for many years now, and was here to discuss her father’s will with her. And, although she’d much rather not be dealing with the fallout, would much rather Edward Harrington was the one in the office with her right now, poring over paperwork; in the absence of a time machine or a magic wand, she had no choice. She had to hear what her father’s wishes were, and carry them out to the very best of her ability.
Pre-order Mia’s Men here (the book will be withdrawn from the other retailers a few days after release to go Amazon exclusive, so if you shop elsewhere, I highly recommend bagging your copy sooner rather than later): http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/mias-men/
Don’t forget to check out all the other blogs taking part!
December 12, 2017
Twelve Days of Gay Romance (@instafreebie) #instafreebie #gay #gayromance #romance
Hi everyone,
‘Tis the season of giving and these authors have a great gift for you!
Yes, I’m taking part in another Instafreebie event, and this time it’s focused around gay romance books. So if you love yourself some M/M, check out this event, which runs from the 12th – 24th December! (And I’m totally swooning at the guy on the graphic above – isn’t he gorgeous!?)
**Twelve Days of Gay Romance Landing Page**
Happy Reading!
Lucy x
December 11, 2017
Out Now – The Prison of the Angels, the Final Book of the Watchers by Janine Ashbless (@sinfulpress)
When there’s a war in Heaven, on which side will you stand?
The Prison of the Angels is the new paranormal erotic romance by Janine Ashbless, and is the final novel in the Book of the Watchers trilogy.
“I thought I was a good girl. I thought that no matter what others did for my sake, I could stay innocent. I thought that as long as I acted out of love, I’d be blameless.
I was wrong, wasn’t I?”
Janine Ashbless is back with the third and final instalment of her Book of the Watchers trilogy, The Prison of the Angels. Unafraid to tackle the more complex issues surrounding good and evil in mainstream religion, Janine has created a thought-provoking and immersive trilogy which sets a new standard for paranormal erotic romance. The first in the series, Cover Him With Darkness, was released in 2014 by Cleis Press and received outstanding reviews. It was followed in March 2017 by In Bonds of the Earth, and finally The Prison of the Angels on 1st December 2017, both published by Sinful Press.
*****
Blurb:
Milja Petak’s world has fallen apart.
Her lover, the fallen angel Azazel, has cast her aside in rage and disgust. The other contender for her heart, the Catholic priest Egan Kansky, was surrendered back into the hands of the shadowy Vatican organization, Vidimus, after sustaining life-threatening injuries.
She has killed and she has betrayed. She is alone, homeless, and at the end of her tether – torn apart by guilt and the love she has lost.
But neither Heaven nor its terrifying representatives on Earth have finished with Milja.
Both her lovers need her in order to further their very different plans, and both passionately need her, though they may try to deny it.
Milja is once again forced into a series of choices as she uncovers the secrets Heaven has been guarding for centuries. But this time it is not just her heart at stake, or even the fate of a fallen angel.
This time, the choices she makes will change everything.
This time it’s the End of the World.
The Prison of the Angels is the third in the acclaimed Book of the Watchers trilogy, following on from Cover Him with Darkness, and In Bonds of the Earth.
*****
Excerpt:
The cold water flashed like white fire over every inch of my skin. It burnt my eyeballs and my lips and the inside of my throat, and beyond the white fire was a darkness so immense that it swallowed me whole.
I fell forever.
Something grabbed my wrist. Something so hot that it boiled away the darkness, so that there was suddenly light flashing in my eyes. I felt myself grabbed up bodily and lifted. I felt heat against my lips, blowing fire into my frozen lungs. I saw the wooden posts of a flight of steps, and then I pitched forward onto hands and knees in the shallow snow, choking up pond-water. In front of my blurred vision an inchoate swirl of darkness poured up the steps onto the lit porch and then disappeared. Unseen, something slammed against the door, a knock that made the house shake.
I was on the ground beneath the back porch of John’s house, I realized, shuddering.
Mama. Oh Mama. The thought seemed to come from nowhere.
Three times the knock sounded, and on the third the door burst open—outward, onto the porch—to reveal Egan in the lit room within; shaven, shirtless, and frozen mid-lunge for what I could only assume was a weapon of some sort.
He stared.
I tried to cry out.
“Milja?”
Grabbing his pistol he ran out barefoot onto the porch and looked around for enemies that were not there. Then he clattered down and pulled me up into his arms. I pressed my face to his neck and he carried me up the steps and over the threshold—not like a bride, but like a child he could hold tight against his torso, his wrists locked under my thighs. His skin blazed against mine. He hefted me into the kitchen and propped my ass on the table in front of the range.
“What the hell?” he demanded in a low fierce voice, sweeping locks of sodden hair back from my face. My hat seemed to have disappeared. “What happened, Milja? What were you doing out there?”
“Ice. I fell in the lake.” My jaw chattered. It was obvious I was telling the truth—I was soaked from head to toe, and after clasping me so close he wasn’t much drier himself.
“Feckssake, woman!” he growled. “What the hell were you thinking of?” He shucked off my coat, which lifted a sodden ton from my shoulders, then stooped to pull my boots off; ice-water spilt all over the floor.
I tried to strip off my gloves but my fingers weren’t capable of gripping anything.
“Come here, come here,” he said softly from where he knelt at my feet, grabbing my wrists and peeling away the useless gloves. He pressed my hands on either side of his warm neck, holding them there. They must have felt like ice-blocks to him, but he didn’t wince.
He looked like a knight kneeling before his queen, I thought. I could feel his pulse.
“I’ll go get towels, Milja. Are you going to be okay a sec?”
I nodded, though he probably couldn’t see it through the shuddering. He rose and hurried off, leaving me with the radiant warmth of the stove. I thought I should probably get the rest of my clothes off, but even after I struggled with my fly zipper my jeans seemed determined to cling to my bum-cheeks.
I heard the back door bang shut and I flinched.
Azazel?
Had he been gathering himself to come get Egan? Was he the one who had saved me from the black waters? Where was he now?
Egan came back in carrying armfuls of towels. “Alright?”
“I’m okay,” I told him, smiling through my shudders. He was still shirtless, and I could see the faint Ethiopian scars on his arm and chest.
He wrapped my hands one at a time in a towel, chaffed them dry, and then set them deliberately against the hard, hot wall of his torso.
Oh God.
Then he slipped all the buttons on my thick flannel shirt—the one I’d chosen this morning precisely because it wasn’t provocative or distracting—and he only slowed when he realized I was wearing just a bra-top underneath. My nipples stood in shamefully hard points under the stretch cotton. I tried to wriggle out of the long tartan sleeves of my shirt on my own, to spare his blushes, but everything clung like a freezing cold second skin and he had to help.
The shallow slash on my forearm wasn’t bleeding anymore, but each brush of his fingers felt like hot coals.
My wet garment made a slap as it struck the floor.
He draped a towel around my shoulders and another over my head. He started rubbing the water from my face and hair and scalp, his movements precise and gentle. For long moments I was buried in a soft darkness. I reached out, blind, to put my hands back on his bare ribs. I could feel his heart pounding beneath them, like a beast pacing a cage.
I have no idea when it all changed for him. When his grueling self-denial simply fell apart, like a garment worn and washed until the fabric was weakened beyond all use. All I knew was that he dropped the towel off my damp head, cupped my face in both his hands and—absolutely without warning—kissed me.
The Prison of the Angels is available to buy from all major online retailers including:
Amazon: http://smarturl.it/TPotAKindle
Kobo: http://smarturl.it/TPotAKobo
iTunes: http://smarturl.it/TPotAiTunes
Google Play: http://smarturl.it/TPotAGoogle
Barnes and Noble: http://smarturl.it/TPotABarnesandNoble
*****
Author bio:
Janine Ashbless is a writer of fantasy erotica and steamy romantic adventure. She likes to write about magic and myth and mystery, dangerous power dynamics, borderline terror, and the not-quite-human.
Buyer beware! If you like dark romance and a hard-won Happily Ever After, try “Cover Him with Darkness,” “Heart of Flame,” or “The King’s Viper.” If you prefer challenging erotica, go for “Red Grow the Roses” or “Named and Shamed” instead. All her other books lie somewhere on the spectrum between.
Janine has been seeing her books in print ever since 2000. She’s also had numerous short stories published by Black Lace, Nexus, Cleis Press, Ravenous Romance, Harlequin Spice, Storm Moon, Xcite, Mischief Books, and Ellora’s Cave among others. She is co-editor of the nerd erotica anthology ‘Geek Love’.
Born in Wales, Janine now lives in the North of England with her husband and two rescued greyhounds. She has worked as a cleaner, library assistant, computer programmer, local government tree officer, and – for five years of muddy feet and shouting – as a full-time costumed Viking. Janine loves goatee beards, ancient ruins, minotaurs, trees, mummies, having her cake and eating it, and holidaying in countries with really bad public sewerage.
Her work has been described as:
“Hardcore and literate” (Madeline Moore) and “Vivid and tempestuous and dangerous, and bursting with sacrifice, death and love.” (Portia Da Costa)
Author Links:
Janine Ashbless website: http://www.janineashbless.com/
Janine Ashbless on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/janineashbless
Sinful Press website: https://www.sinfulpress.co.uk
Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services .
December 10, 2017
Submissive on The Fifth Floor: A Guest Post by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee) #femdom #erotica #bdsm
Thank you for inviting me over today to tell you about the re-launch of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.
It is with great excitement, that I can announce that Book One of the trilogy, The Fifth Floor (previously The Perfect Submissive) has been re-edited, recovered and re-released!
Blurb:
Hidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor. Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests. When she meets Jess Sanders, she recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education.
Under the tutelage of dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with an erotically demanding training schedule and a truly sexy exercise regime. But will she come to terms with her new career?
Meanwhile, Mrs Peters is temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fables’ fifth floor by artist, Sam Wheeler – who she believes can help her in her mission to transform Jess into the perfect submissive…
*****
What is it that makes someone want to be sexually subservient to another? Why do so many people enjoy the total removal of their free will? Even within the bounds of fantasy rather than reality, the concept of becoming a sub to a more dominant partner is extremely popular.
I honestly can’t answer these questions- for one person’s reason for living a submissive lifestyle will be totally different from the next. What is important however, is that the relationship of a sub and a master or mistress has to be based on trust- without that, then the system simply does not work.
The notion that she wants to be a sub, is one that Jess Sanders has to learn come to grips with very quickly as she enters employment at the Fable’s Hotel…only will she begin to realise how important trust is…
Not long after her employment as a booking clerk at The Fables Hotel, Jess witnesses the willing subjection of fit healthy young men – the first step towards Jess becoming the submissive assistant Mrs Peters wants her to be.
*****
Crossing the threshold of the room, into which she was being firmly steered by the elbow, felt like entering another world to Jess, or rather, another time. Manoeuvred towards a plush red velvet chaise longue, her eyes darting here and there, the clerk was pointedly sat down.
Trying to ignore the light but persistent pressure of Mrs Peters cool hand against her wrist, Jess took in the reproduction William Morris wallpaper, the heavy dark-wood chest of drawers, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, and the faded brown leather wing-backed armchair. Centre stage, only a few metres from where they sat, was a huge writing desk. Its top was inlaid with a square of leather, a portion of which was covered with blotting paper, an accompanying ink well, pots of ink, and nibbed pens.
Jess was reminded of a museum she’d once visited as a child, where rooms from a variety of different houses had been re-created from a number of historical periods. This room had Victorian study written all over it.
The silence was beginning to get to her as she waited, perched rather than sat, on the unyielding seat. A faint voice of hope at the back of Jess’s head kept telling her that all this had to be some sort of practical joke, but one glance at Mrs Peters made her reconsider. She couldn’t prevent her eyes from drifting towards the study door. Whatever she had been brought here to witness surely couldn’t begin until someone came in. Twenty seconds later, each one ticked off by the hammer of Jess’s heart beating, the door swung back with a confident push.
‘Ah, Miss Sarah,’ Laura rose from her seat, a stern glare at Jess telling her not to move. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Fables has a new member of staff, and I thought it would be a good idea to let her observe one of our sessions.’
Miss Sarah, her face powdered to an ultra-pale complexion, her curling hair pinned up in the style of a Victorian lady, her exquisite outfit historically accurate down to the small white buttons that fastened her stylish black boots, curtsied at once to her superior, ‘Of course, Mrs Peters.’
The stunningly slim woman glanced briefly at Jess, her grey gaze only lingering long enough to acknowledge the stranger, without taking in what she looked like or who she might be. Miss Sarah’s indifference, dismissing the office clerk as an unimportant factor in the room, made Jess feel smaller and more anxious than ever.
The agonising lull continued and Jess’s imagination ran riot as Miss Sarah sat at the desk in preparation for her client’s arrival. Images of pock-skinned overweight men, panting loudly as they fucked the employees of the fifth floor against the furniture made Jess’s stomach churn, but there was no way out. With a quiet determination that Mrs Peters would have been surprised to know Jess possessed, she thought, if the other members of staff here have survived this part of the tour, then so can I.
As Mrs Peters returned to both the chaise longue and her application of gentle restraint against the clerk’s arm, Jess’s body stiffened. Someone was knocking on the door. Not daring to face her employer, Jess focused on the figure that, after being granted permission to enter, walked meekly into the study.
If he hadn’t had his neck bent, his face to the floor with respect for Miss Sarah, who greeted him with a sharp ‘Good Morning’, Jess judged he would have been quite tall. And he was young; not the sweaty, aged bank manager Jess had conjured up in her head, but a man in his late 20s or early 30s, with a shaven face, short spiked ginger hair, and well built limbs. He was dressed as a servant, perhaps a stable hand. Jess was automatically reminded of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Gulping against her dehydrated throat, unwilling to see the sex that she was sure was about to follow, the clerk dropped her eyes, only to have her chin roughly jerked upwards by Mrs Peters, ‘No, child. You will observe. You will learn.’
A patina of panic gripped Jess. Every hair on the back of her neck stood to attention. Until that moment it had been unreal. She hadn’t let go of the hope that at any minute someone was going to turn around and say, ‘OK, Jess, it’s just a joke. We play it on all the new girls. Let’s grab a coffee.’ No one did though. No one was saying anything.
The suffocating quiet of the room was broken by the newcomer, who apparently totally oblivious to his audience, was pressed to his knees by Miss Sarah. His head lowered, he was left where he was as the lady sat in the wing-backed chair, her back straight, her chin tilted, her clear eyes filled with disdain as she studied her supplicant.
Jess tried to turn her head away for a second time, but again, had it sharply wrenched back to the scene unfolding before her. She felt hot despite the general chill of the room, and wished she could take off the thick jumper that was so essential in her cold little bookings office.
Miss Sarah stood again, her abrupt movement making Jess jump and Mrs Peters smile with sardonic approval. ‘You know why I have called you here, Master Paul.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ The words were spoken with humility, but Jess heard every word. It was like being in a theatre watching someone dictating well rehearsed lines.
‘I believe I’ve had to speak to you before about your time keeping. Twice before in fact.’
The man’s eyes remained dipped, ‘Yes, my lady.’
‘I’m afraid that, as this is not the first time there has been cause to reprimand you, the punishment will be more severe this time.’ Miss Sarah didn’t sound afraid at all. Her cut-glass voice sounded triumphant as she towered over the man, who seemed to be getting smaller, as if he was shrinking against her tone.
With a rustle of the petticoats hidden beneath her bust hugging dress, Miss Sarah turned from her client and began to search through the desk drawer. Jess held her breath; positive she knew what Miss Sarah was searching for. It has to be a wooden ruler. Jess had read enough erotica to know how these scenarios went. It was almost text book.
It briefly crossed her mind that she should have been disappointed; but the hardening of her nipples told her otherwise, as did the tell-tale twitch beneath her skirt. Determined to keep her unbidden arousal secret, Jess privately admonished herself for being so susceptible.
She averted her eyes from the woman at the desk, but Jess couldn’t bring herself to turn them from the manservant. He captivated her. So strong, so masculine. What makes him want to come here and be controlled like this? Why does he pay to be humiliated?
‘It’s fascinating, isn’t it?’ Mrs Peters seemed to be reading her mind.
Jess felt goose pimples sprinkle her flesh as her employer continued to speak in whispers, her warm breath tickling Jess’s ear, ‘He’s a strong young man. He is good looking. He could dominate any girl he chose, and yet here he is, getting his rocks off by crouching in obedience before a powerful woman.’
Jess opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say; or even if she was permitted to speak. Instead she flicked her attention back to Miss Sarah, who’d finished her deliberately protracted hunt through the desk, and now held, not a ruler, but a short handled white whip.
*****
You can find out what happens next by buying The Fifth Floor from…
Amazon (universal link) | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Smashwords
*****
Bio-
Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO
Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee has over 200 erotica publications including, The Fifth Floor – Book 1 of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (KJ Press, 2017) , The Collector (KDP, 2016), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 Nights Press, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 Nights Press, 2013).
Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk
You can follow Kay on –
Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee
Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor
Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee
Brit Babes- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html
Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane www.jennykane.co.uk and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash www.jenniferash.co.uk***
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