Kay Jaybee's Blog, page 106

Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters- Day Five

I can’t believe we’ve reached Day Five of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters!

Yesterday I treated you to a story from Quick Kink One, so today it seems only sensible to carry on today with a tale from its sister volume, Quick Kink Two (e-book, Xcite)

The whole point of both my Quick Kink volumes, was to provide two dozen different elements of eroticism in two separate helpings.

Yesterday I shared a nice vanilla story with you from Quick Kink One-so how about we up the pace with some good old Kay Jaybee, BDSM today…

The Bride Wore Rubber

If I had been a newspaper journalist reporting on the wedding I would have used the headline, ‘The Bride Wore Rubber.’ Red rubber to be precise. Not in dress form, but sparingly, in the manner befitting the chief slave of an exclusive S&M club owner.

Thin straps of rubber circled her neck and supported a harness, which looped around her ample tits, pushing them up unnaturally high. Her flat stomach was bare, but her legs were tightly encased in rubber stockings, which moulded themselves perfectly to the contours of her body, outlining her firm thighs and slender calves. This skin-tight covering stopped short of her backside, revealing her round tanned arse and her smoothly shaved pussy in all their glory.

There was an elegant dignity about the girl. She was tall, slim, blonde and conventionally beautiful, but there was more to her than that. A quiet strength seemed to emanate from her, a strength that the addition of a red eye-mask, blinding her better than any bridal-veil, didn’t diminish. A leather lead was clipped to a matching choker which was, in turn, secured around her slender neck. The choker, in deference to the occasion, was studded with three small diamonds.

As the time for the ceremony drew near, I stood amongst the oddly semi-dressed assemblage of guests. They had broken into two clusters, one on each side of the club’s dancehall, leaving a makeshift aisle running down its centre.

At the end of this aisle, awaiting his slave-bride, stood Michael. I don’t know his surname, but I do know he is a very powerful man, with powerful friends, who like to play dangerous games. He gave off an air of quite arrogant control as he surveyed the scene before him. He, unlike his guests, was wearing full wedding regalia, a grey morning suit, cravat and top hat. Handsome in a rugby player kind of way, Michael stood head and shoulders above his best-man, whose chest was bare, and whose black leather trousers squeaked slightly as he paced up and down the aisle, waiting edgily for the procession to begin.

From my privileged place at the side of the crowd, I glanced towards the doors. The increased noise of activity coming from behind them indicated that the bridal party was almost ready. I looked towards the rather uncomfortable reverend, who was waiting for what, I’m sure he hoped, would be a swift service.

I tensed, as did every guest in the room, as Mendelssohn’s Wedding March struck up over the clubs sound system, and the hall doors swung open.

The immediate whoops and cat calls from the overheated guests showed their instant approval of the party’s attire.

Holding the bride’s lead was a large man, who like the groom, wore a morning suit. A whisper from the crowd informed me that he was the brides’ future brother-in-law, and instantly I could see the family likeness. The solid chin, the square frame to the body, the arrogant dark blue eyes.

The bride followed him, blindly, sedately, humbly, on all fours. She crawled along, her breasts swinging beneath her, her arse burning with sharp red wields, that had obviously been administered by a whip only moments before. In addition, the bride had received an extra facet to her outfit. A string of red Thai beads had been threaded into her anus. I could only imagine how she must feel, debased and humiliated before this mass of largely familiar faces.

Two bridesmaids completed the group. Both similarly bedecked in skimpy white rubber harnesses and leggings, their faces were solemn and bowed. These were Michael’s other two personal slaves. I wondered if they were jealous of their colleague’s status, or if they were relieved that it wasn’t them blinded and on all fours in front of the entire club membership.

As the bride reached the makeshift altar, the crowd bunched forward, each person eager to watch the ceremony at close quarters.

I slipped to the front of the room, manoeuvring my way to a space behind the vicar, where a hired, wide-eyed, camcorder operator already stood, his mouth open in disbelief.

On reaching her Master, the brides blindfold was eased up, and she kissed his shoes, as the lead was passed to the groom. 

Michael looked down approvingly at his slave for a second, before allowing her to stand next to him. She rose with amazingly controlled poise, making sure the beads didn’t have a chance to escape from their intimate confinement, and therefore denying her intended the excuse to publicly punish her.

The vicar began the service, and with what seemed an alarming adherence to tradition in the circumstances, the wedding speeches and vows began, just as if we’d been stood in any church or registry office in the country. I listened intently over the background buzz of the guest’s subdued chatter. The bride’s name was Mary. I wondered if her husband would ever use it, or if she’d be called Slave for the rest of her life.

When it was time for the groom to pass his slave her wedding ring my stomach contracted as, rather than a ring, the best man passed the groom what looked like a silver staple gun, but what I soon discovered was actually a piercing device.

The expression on the bride’s face showed that she hadn’t expected that. I watched intently as the groom bent and sucked hard at Mary’s left nipple, pulling it with his teeth until it stood proud and firm. Then on a pre-arranged signal, one of the bridesmaids stepped forward and wiped a small cloth, presumably of antiseptic, over the extant nipple. Once that had been applied, Michael wasted no time before putting the gun in place, piercing and ringing his wife like a chattel.

The bride’s cries of pain as the gold band was permanently secured onto her were partially drowned out by the booming voice of the clergyman saying, ‘by the giving and receiving of this ring, I now pronounce you Man and Wife, Master and Slave.’

I scribbled frantically into my notebook, as, like every eye in the room, I observed the silent tear streaked face of the bride. She was turned slowly, so that the whole room could see her newly swollen tit with its golden accessory. The congregation cheered manically as the vicar raised his arms and cried, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’

Nodding his thanks to the vicar who hastily departed from the room, Michael turned his bride to face him, and lifting her bowed head to his, kissed her tenderly, so tenderly that I wondered whether there was a genuine feeling of love there. This thought only lasted for a second, as he roughly pushed Mary to her knees, making the bead tail clatter as it hit the floor.

Michael called in a voice of authority, ‘Ladies and Gentleman, the wedding party will adjourn to my private study, you guests may amuse yourself freely, and then, in one hour, dinner will be served.’

His last few words were almost buried beneath the violent eruption of noise from the dance floor, as an instant orgy exploded around me. It took only seconds for groups and couples of men and women, women and women, and men and men, to be pushed up against one another, mouths, tits, hands and cocks everywhere.

I however, had been instructed to follow the wedding party.

When I reached the large old fashioned style study, I was offered a leather chair in the corner of the room, alongside my still stunned filming partner. My breathing had become rather shallow, and I was all too aware that the events I’d witnessed had had a rather unprofessional effect on me. I attempted to compose myself, for I was sure that things were about to get worse.

If you would like to read the rest of Quick Kink Two, it is available from Xcite, Amazon, and all good e-retailers

Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters – Day Four

Day Four of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters!

Today I am featuring my first solo anthology – Quick Kink One (e-book, Xcite)

There are 12 stories in Quick Kink One- each very different from the next; some kinky vanilla, some S&M, BDSM, MMF, FF and so on. It is therefore impossible to provide you with an excerpt that sums up the style of the book.

So, I closed my eyes and randomly pointed at the contents page! Thus, today I have picked a sexy vanilla piece for your pleasure- Hope you like it!

The Bookshop

Over the past few months she’d brought far more books than she could possibly have had time to read in that period. She knew it and so did he.

The looks they half gave each other, half gave the deserted bookshop in general, spoke volumes. For exactly thirty-two weeks the frisson between them had grown with each of her visits. Yet he’d never left the safety of the shop counter and they’d never exchanged a word. Not even a ‘thank you’, or a ‘goodbye’ on the completion of a sales transaction.

 As soon as she pushed the stiff door open that summer morning she felt a change in the stuffy bookish air. It was as though the game they’d been privately playing was ending. It was time for the finale.

She experienced a brief stab of regret. This silent flirting had become so much part of her days, her nightly dreams and consequent quiet satisfaction. The thought of it not being there anymore felt like an immediate bereavement, and yet she knew, as she watched the tall bookseller come, unprecedented, out from behind his counter, that the moment her body had longed for had finally arrived.

She looked at him, desire silently welling up within her, realising she’d only ever seen him from the waist up before. Taller than she’d imagined, his dick was obviously and unashamedly straining beneath his grey combat trousers.

Her own crotch twitched against her silk panties as the blatant lust of his gaze focused on her chest, forcing her nipples to stand to attention, and her breasts to fill her bra until it felt unbearably tight.

The bookseller gestured towards the far corner of the shop, before walking there himself. With only a brief uncertain glance towards the unlocked door, she followed. The quiet of the travel section provided a modicum of privacy from the shop’s entrance, as he pushed her firmly but gently back against the black shelves, and trailed a single finger over her cotton shirt. She stared into his brown eyes, her arms limp at her sides, not quite sure if she was allowed to touch him in return.

One by one he undid her shirt buttons until it hung open. Then, with an urgent tug, he pulled her bra beneath her tits. She moaned softly as he stooped down, enclosing his warm mouth around a nipple. More certain now, her hands moved through his short rough brown hair.

His tongue began to lap at her tits, harder and harder, first the right and then the left. She dug her fingernails deep into his shoulders as he sent her into a silent orgasm, enflaming her whole body and soaking her knickers.

As her shivers subsided he stood, his eyes boring into hers. Understanding what he wanted, she fell quickly to her knees, forever mindful that a customer catch them at any moment. Deftly, she undid his flies and sprang his cock free. Its hard thick length felt warm and firm in her mouth as she gobbled and licked at his taught ribbed skin.

His breathing became faster, but rather than thrust his groin closer to her face he pulled away. This withdrawal only caused her a moment’s confusion as he produced a condom from a shirt pocket and hastily applied it along his shaft.

Without waiting for his assistance, she yanked her own black panties to the floor, before allowing him to hoist her up. Wrapping her long thin legs around his waist, she murmured thankfully as he impaled her, pushing her roughly against the International Travel Books, which she hardly noticed, despite their spines digging into her back.

Rucking up his shirt, her hands held his smooth back tightly as he rutted into her, grunting out his creamy load.

He caught his breath for a second, before lowering her onto the dusty frayed green carpet and, pushing her legs wide apart, knelt to lick out her wet pussy, causing her to spasm once more against his greedy tongue.

As her sighs of pleasure grew quieter, he left her. She sat up, caught between shock at her night-time dreams coming true, and wonderful bodily satisfaction. Adjusting her clothing she returned to the counter.

He stood as always, a seductive smile across his lightly freckled face. He said nothing, but he did point. Point to something she’d never noticed before. It was a security camera, and it was focused right on the hidden travel section.

As she walked home she imagined him replaying their instant of passion over and over again. The thought re-inflamed her body, and in that moment she knew she’d been quite wrong. The fantasy wasn’t over. It was only just beginning.

Quick Kink One is available from Xcite, Amazon, and all good e-book retailers.

Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters- Day Three

It’s Day Three of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters!

Today I am sharing some of my very first solo paperback with you.

The Collector (A&M, 2008) is a linked-anthology. It’s the story of a young woman on a mission to gather as many erotic stories as possible. Either by eaves-dropping, asking outright for, advertising for, or even indulging in some direct research herself, the collector assembles and doucments some hot tales…

Some of the stories are long, some are very short, some romantic, and some pure BDSM. The Collector records straight, gay, lesbian, threesome, and solo adventures- all of which are very kinky!

I am feeling generous today- so here comes a complete story from The Collector’s collection!

Break Time

The temperature dropped as the door closed behind them. He hesitated for a moment before following them further into the club’s store. Seconds later he was being pulled across the dark room onto a huge pile of empty cardboard boxes which lay discarded in the far corner. He could feel his cock stirring beneath his jeans. So far they had not spoken. They hadn’t needed to.

            The blonde was laughing. Her eyes laughed first, just ahead of her lips, which were moist with anticipation. The boxes crunched slightly as they were squashed beneath their combined weight. The thumping of the dance floor, only a corridor away, was almost drowned out by the ticking of the storeroom clock.

            The girls, still anonymous, looked at each other, and with an unspoken signal they acted. Pulling off their t-shirts they revealed two sets of perfect tits. The red head’s rich mouth was nuzzling at her partners nipples before their guest had time to react to the wonderful, unbelievable, sight. Then she turned the blonde towards him. ‘She’s yours for the taking’ she smiled teasingly, ‘if you want her? You’ll have to decide quickly though, we only have a half hour break.’

            He’d seen them watching him from the other side of the bar as they served his fellow clubbers. When they approached him, each taking a hand and guiding his slim frame towards what they called “a safe place,” he couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t sure whether he should resist or not, so he thought he’d see what happened next. Anyway, his mates were watching.

            Somehow he couldn’t move. His brain was screaming at his body to work. To grab her, lick her neat breasts, and release her hips from her short black skirt, but he simply stood there, mesmerised.

            The red head shrugged and, moving behind her friend, grasped her nipples between bronzed fingers. As her taught skin was expertly rubbed, the blonde’s head fell back onto her comrade’s shoulders, her eyes closed in pleasure.

            ‘She loves this. Why don’t you try it?’ Still he couldn’t move, but his eyes never left them. The red head, who was obviously relishing her currant dominance, started to kiss the blonde. Big, deep, probing kisses; first on the mouth, then down her neck, whilst her finger tips continued to brush the almond nipples.

            It was the blonde’s yell that woke him up. As she came there, right in front of him, under the careful ministrations of another girl, he realised that this wasn’t just another fantasy. This was everything he wanted. It was real.

            As if sensing that he’d come to a positive decision, the red head pulled a condom out of her mini-skirts pocket and threw it at him. He inclined his head, and posted it into his jeans pocket.

             The blonde almost sagged with relief as he tore off his shirt, closely followed by her skirt. He pushed her back into the red head’s arms, spread her knicker free legs, and greedily lapped up the juice which ran down the inside of her thighs. Her arms reached up, and her fingers dug into his short dark hair to steady herself. His dick ached, but he wasn’t ready to take his jeans off. He couldn’t be sure how much control he’d have without there restraining presence.

            Glancing up from his intense work around her clit, he could see she was very close, but he didn’t want to be the one to trigger her second orgasm. He was in charge now, and he wanted to watch.

            The red head staggered a little as he pulled her roughly towards him, ‘Finish her off,’ he ordered.

            ‘Certainly sir.’ She spoke with mock gravity, and knelt down, sliding two perfectly manicured fingers inside her friends soaking snatch. He watched as the fingers moved slowly, rhythmically in and out, making tiny slurping noises in time to the clock. He stepped forward and began to kiss the red head on the neck, her face and her stomach. He circled all around her chest without actually touching it, planting the lightest of touches on her belly and her arms, forcing a groan from her confident mouth. He knew the need for attention in her breast must be almost unbearable. Would she beg? No; too proud. He suspected that right now she would like to though.

            The tension was cut abruptly as the blonde cried out once more, her body shivering in satisfaction. The red head pulled away from him and stuffed an aching tit into her friends mouth, who instantly obliged by flicking a skilful her tongue over the neglected nipple. Red’s murmur of relief became a sigh of pleasure when he thrust his hard cock between her pink lips.

            He had dreamt about this sort of thing, but the reality of the situation was almost too much. The girls so busy together, combined with the tongue expertly, divinely, licking at his tip, was driving him to distraction. He withdrew hastily and took a deep breath, gathering himself.

            The clock ticked. The red head was whimpering for more attention.  He glanced at the cardboard bed beneath him; it was more or less squashed flat now. Time must be short and he was desperate to be inside one of them. He didn’t care which one.

            Ripping the condom out of its packaging and rolling it into place, he lay on his back, his discomfort soon forgotten as his shaft was quickly swallowed up as the blonde sat astride him. The delicious sensations that coursed through him doubled as the red head lowered herself onto his face, offering her pussy to his open mouth.

            Again his mind was full of the image they must be presenting. The stifled mews and groans from above told him that the girls were kissing each other as one pumped against his cock, and one rocked against his tongue. He held red’s thighs tightly, feeling the pleasing weight mould into him. Perhaps their hands were busy working on each others tits. He was sure they would be.

            It was a thought too far, and suddenly he pushed the red head away, crying out his relief as he shot his load into the blonde above him. As he moved away, panting hard, the girls wasted no time in fingering themselves to their own climax, giving him one last memorable spectacle.

            Tick. The girls were bar staff again. Collecting their clothes from the jumble of cardboard, they hastened towards the door. Turning to him for a final look, he blew them a kiss, admiring their calm but rather crumpled appearance. Tomorrow he would have to pinch himself. Had that really just happened?

            The backs of his long legs ached where they had been rubbed against the uneven surface, and they were already bruising. It had happened, and he was about to develop the marks to prove it.

If you fancy reading the rest of The Collector, you can find it in paperback or e-book form Amazon, and all good book sellers.

Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters- Day Two

It’s Day Two of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters!

Today is all about my BDSM novel The Perfect Submissive (Xcite)

Blurb-

Hidden behind the Fables Hotels respectable facade, five specially adapted rooms wait; ready to cater for the kinky requirements of its guests.

When Mrs Peters, the mistress of the hotels exclusive entertainment facility, meets the new booking clerk, Jess Sanders, she instantly 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 the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with her unexpected training schedule, the increasingly erotic chill she experiences each time she survives a new level of correction, and a truly sexy exercise routine.

Temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fable’s top floor by  an enigmatic artist, Mrs Peters begins to plan how she can secure his obedient assistance, in grooming Jess into the perfect submissive…

Just out in paperback after a year as an e-book- you can now also buy The Perfect Submissive in e-trilogy form!

I am delighted at just how well my BDSM novel is going down at the moment- it has been very difficult choosing a piece to share with you that didn’t ruin the story before you’d read the book. I think perhaps Chapter Seven, when Miss Jess Sanders embarks on an interesting new exercise routine, might just whet your appetite without spoiling the plot!!

Chapter Seven

Although she had visited the majority of the facilities provided by the hotel, until now Jess had managed to avoid the gymnasium. The bookings to use the spa and sports equipment were handled by a separate reception at the entrance to the gym, and the closest Jess had got to it was to point the Fables guests in the right direction.

Waiting just inside the sports hall, Jess was reminded of the horror of games lessons at school, the humiliation of the changing rooms, and the hour of hell she’d endured three times a week when she’d totally failed to be good at any sport at all. A humiliation that had stayed with her, putting her off all sport for the rest of her life.

She hated the smell of the place, the sort of antiseptic chlorine-style aroma with an undercurrent of sweat. The air felt heavy and trapped, as if impatient for the day’s activity to get underway. Even though it was only seven in the morning, Jess could see two eager tennis players making their way to a court at the far side of the hall, their footsteps echoing against the floor.

Notepad and pen firmly to hand, Jess looked around impatiently for a member of the sports staff to arrive. The gymnasium had been closed for a safety and stock check, and Jess was required to take notes of any adjustments or purchases that needed to be made. She checked her watch again; her accomplice was already ten minutes late. She was just considering reporting back to Reception when she saw Miss Sarah approaching, suitably attired in a figure hugging Lycra sports top and leggings.

For a fleeting second she considered it a possibility that Miss Sarah was coming to help her stock take, but dismissed the idea as ridiculous. She could have been coming for a workout and hadn’t been told the gym was closed for the morning. There was no doubt that the woman did work out. Jess had seen the physical results of the way the dominatrix kept herself in trim.

I’ve been set up. The familiar prickle of sweat crept up her spine, as she did her best to shake the thought from her almost continually lust focused mind. Gripping her stationery, and feeling frumpy in her black trousers and white blouse, Jess wondered what was going to happen to her now.

‘Miss Sanders.’

‘Miss Sarah?’ The greeting was not exactly friendly, but at least it stopped short of frosty.

‘I have been sent to inform you that the stock take has been postponed until nine a.m. A far more civilised hour, don’t you think?’

Jess didn’t reply, her eyes straying to the bunch of keys in Miss Sarah’s hand.

‘I always workout here. Where do you go?’

‘I don’t. I can’t really afford to join a gym.’

Dismissing this as a minor matter, Miss Sarah replied, ‘But can you afford not to? Besides, free use of this gym is available to all Fables staff before eight in the morning, and after nine at night. Did no one tell you?’

‘No they didn’t, but to be honest I’m not keen on exercise anyway.’

‘That …’ the older woman regarded Jess very carefully, ‘… is all too obvious. I think you should accompany me.’ She unlocked the door to the gym and waited for a reluctant Jess to push her way through the double doors.

Four exercise bicycles, some rowing machines, a variety of lifting weights, and numerous other ways to voluntarily exhaust yourself, met Jess’s gaze.

She knew she wasn’t as fit as she ought to be and that she was more curvy than slim, but if she didn’t care about that, and was healthy, then so what?

‘I have a confession.’ The expression on Miss Sarah’s face confirmed Jess’s suspicions that this was not an accidental meeting. ‘Mrs Peters has asked me to take on a task in addition to my usual duties.’

The paper between Jess’s fingers began to feel damp as the foreboding that had been nagging her surged forward. ‘What task?’

‘Mrs Peters is happy with your progress – on the whole. There are issues that need attention however, improvements that need to be made.’ The fifth floor’s deputy began to pace around the gym, her fingers running lovingly over the shiny metal machines. ‘Our clients have requirements we are duty bound to meet, however cliché they might be.’

‘Please, Miss Sarah, what task?’

‘Personally I think Mrs Peters is wrong. No need to look so shocked. I happen to know this room is not bugged, so I can do and say what I like. I’m also confident that you are not foolish enough to share my thoughts on this.’

Still unsure exactly what Miss Sarah was suggesting, Jess simply agreed that she did indeed know when to keep her mouth shut.

‘She thinks your over-round figure is attractive. You are, after all, simply a shorter version of her own shape, but she concedes that the customers tend to prefer slim waists and slender hips along with a large chest.’

Jess swallowed nervously. She could see where this was going, and she didn’t like it.

‘I, on the other hand, think a strict regime of exercise will not only get rid of that excess fat, it will install in you some much needed discipline and obedience.’

Trying to think when her obedience could possibly have been questioned, Jess’s eyes followed Miss Sarah as she continued to stride around the gym, stopping every now and then to caress the equipment.

‘And as I’d heard the gym was going to be closed to guests for a while today, I arranged things so that you and I can make a start on the routine I have put together for you.’

‘But I don’t have time.’ Jess knew there was no point in telling her she didn’t want to take part, but the pile of work on her desk made what she said perfectly true.

‘You do. I have arranged things.’

‘But …’

‘Enough. You are our employee; consider this one of those “other duties” in your contract. Now, please remove your outer garments; there is no way you can exercise in those.’

       Shooting a look of uncertainty towards the doors in case anyone else was about to come in, Jess reluctantly slipped off her shoes and began to undo the buttons of her shirt.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve locked the doors.’ Miss Sarah went over to a pile of mats in the corner and pulled out three, laying them together on the floor, forming a softer surface on which to work. ‘Hurry up, girl, we only have an hour and then you have a stock take to do.’

Peeling her shirt off and tugging down her trousers, Jess stood in her white satin underwear, her arms crossing self- consciously over her chest.

‘For goodness sake, girl, after six months working here, seeing you semi-naked is hardly going to shock me.’

Acknowledging that for the truth it was, Jess forced herself to lower her arms.

‘Right, come here please.’ Miss Sarah pointed to the spot directly in front of her on the mats.

Her body shaking, Jess obeyed, her bare feet sticking a little against the plastic surface.

Placing her hands on Jess’s elbows, Miss Sarah then levered her arms up so that the clerk was stood with them out at right angles to her body. ‘I want you to keep you arms there. You are not to move. While it is important to tone up that stomach and shave some fat off those hips and your arse, it is equally important to increase your upper body strength, but without decreasing that generous chest of yours.’

Without taking her eyes off her student, Miss Sarah reached for a water bottle, and filled it from the cooler before taking a long swig. ‘Hydration is very important.’

Jess, her arms already aching from being held stiff at an unaccustomed angle for so long, could almost taste the chilled liquid as it ran down Miss Sarah’s throat.

‘Two more minutes and I’ll let you have some water.’

Sitting down cross-legged on the mat in front of Jess, the other woman looked up at her thoughtfully. ‘I bet you’re beginning to feel all hot. I might let you take your bra off in a while. It’s a shame to keep that chest hidden away. I’ll see how well behaved you are – we could call it a reward for doing as you’re told.’

It hadn’t occurred to Jess that her chest was getting warm; she’d been concentrating so hard on not putting her arms down and relaxing the muscles, which had begun to scream for some relief, she hadn’t thought of anything else. Now the idea had been put into her head her breasts felt clammy, and her nipples began to chaff at the inside of her bra cups.

‘One more minute.’ Miss Sarah looked calm as she sat sipping the cold water, watching the perspiration that was gathered on Jess’s forehead.

The clerk couldn’t believe how much staying perfectly still was hurting her. The longing for a drink battled with the need to lower her arms as she shuffled her feet a fraction, trying to shift some of the tension that was coursing down her back.

‘You moved.’ The other woman sounded more resigned than cross. ‘Shame, you won’t be rewarded with free tits now.’

‘I couldn’t help it! This hurts so much.’

       ‘Good. Your stamina is pitiful and needs improving. You have 20 seconds left.’

       Counting down in her head, her teeth gritted, Jess kept her feet firmly glued to the floor.

       ‘Time up.’

       Jess found she couldn’t lower her arms as quickly as she’d have liked to. Her muscles had seized, and the only way to manoeuvre them was slowly.

       Miss Sarah rose from the floor and passed over the bottle, ‘Here, you must keep your fluids up.’

Gratefully, Jess glugged back some water, flexing her feet, legs and shoulders as she did so.

‘I’d like you to lie on your back on the mats now, with your arms stretched out above your head and your knees bent.’

Glad to at least be lying down, Jess obliged, surprised by how comfortable it was to have her limbs pulled out in a different direction for a moment.

‘Bring your arms down and place them under your head.’

Jess’s hair felt hot between her fingers as she listened to the next instruction, ‘You will raise both your legs a fraction off the floor, hold them for the count of two, and then lower them. Begin.’

It was harder than it sounded, and Jess was soon struggling to hold her legs in the air for even the count of one. The perspiration that had dotted her forehead turned to sweat, and she could feel droplets run between her cleavage as her breathing became laboured.

‘Honestly, Miss Sanders, you’re in an even worse state than I feared.’ The mistress stood astride Jess’s stomach. ‘Keep going.’ Staring down at Jess’s face, she tilted the water bottle slightly, and as Jess watched a tiny drizzle of water began to fall, almost as if in slow motion towards her chest.

The second it hit, Jess cried out, it was so cold it almost burnt her hot flesh, and she stopped moving as the liquid seeped into her bra.

‘I told you to keep going.’ Miss Sarah held the bottle steady, and the drip drip of water continued to trickle across Jess’s cleavage and bra, running down her stomach while she struggled to keep her legs moving. ‘Hold in those stomach muscles.’

Openly panting with the effort, Jess’s breasts had changed from being hot and uncomfortable to being soaked with a sodden bra clinging to her skin, making her nipples more enlarged than ever.

After three more lifts, Miss Sarah righted the water bottle, ‘Stop.’

Jess’s legs positively crashed to the floor with exhaustion, not moving as her companion crouched next to her head and whispered, ‘That was pathetic – how on earth are you going to manage the sit ups you are about to do?’

Shaking her head from side to side, Jess cried out, ‘I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.’ Every muscle in her body was tight and sore from the unaccustomed workout she hadn’t even been allowed to warm up for.

‘But you can, and you will.’ Miss Sarah sat astride Jess’s legs, trapping her in place against the gym mats. Splayed fingers ran provocatively around the outline of Jess’s tits, igniting every nerve in her body, ‘I have an incentive scheme in mind. Sit up.’

Jess struggled to her elbows and Miss Sarah deftly reached around her back and undid her bra, peeling it off with a sticky sucking sound. Then shuffling forward, she licked the nipple of each breast just once, sending shock waves of pleasure through Jess’s tired frame.

‘Each time you sit up properly, you will have a nipple tongued.’

Wishing this wasn’t such a strong incentive, but privately knowing it was Jess nodded, her face flushed with shame.

‘Good girl, I knew you would.’

With a deep breath, her hands behind her head, Jess sat up, but failed to get as far as Miss Sarah and sank back in defeat.

‘Again.’

Jess winced as she rose upwards, determined to reach the mouth that was already parting to take in her right teat. The contact was fleeting and moist and delicious, and Jess suddenly found she had the hidden reserves to move again, this time being rewarded on the left side. Five sit ups later and Miss Sarah began to laugh, before saying, ‘Enough,’ and Jess sagged back, relieved, but instantly missing the stimulation and violently aware of the heat that was coursing between her legs.

Rising abruptly, Miss Sarah returned to her usual business-like demeanour. ‘Up.’

Taking her time to rise to her quaking legs Jess did as she was told, before drinking from the water bottle that was offered to her.

‘A quick cycle I think.’ Jess walked unsteadily to the nearest bike and went to sit down, but was stopped. ‘These need to be put in place first.’

Jess’s eyes goggled at the tiny set of love balls Miss Sarah had produced from nowhere. Tug those pants down, girl and open those legs.’

Clumsily, the clerk did as she was told, almost coming as the slender fingers slipped the weighted spheres easily inside her wet channel, before pulling up the knickers to keep them in place.

‘Cycle.’

With every laboured turn of the pedals the love balls slid around inside her, and Jess could feel the knot of an orgasm rise in her like fire.

‘Hold in those stomach muscles. Keep control, girl! Consider this a practice for when I make you do this exercise without knickers on! ’

Jess pulled in her tummy for all she was worth; the tighter she clenched her muscles the more the balls stayed still. But each time she lost concentration, the heavy spheres rolled towards the mouth of her vagina, and Jess had to re-double her efforts to keep them contained; their pressure adding to the need she felt magnifying by the second. By the time Miss Sarah shouted ‘Stop,’ tension oozed from every pore of Jess’s shattered body.

The moment she stopped pedalling the love balls swung within her, and unable to stop it, a climax zipped through her untutored flesh and she shook and shuddered against the bike. Not daring to look at Miss Sarah, Jess quickened herself, the disapproving silence of the room enveloping her.

Her voice surprisingly neutral, the dominatrix said, ‘Come here, and pass the balls to me.’ Tugging her knickers down a little, the balls plopped out of their own accord. Jess shamefacedly gave them back to Miss Sarah. Why isn’t she cross?

‘We are almost out of time. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you these sessions are to become a regular thing, and, if you do as you’re told, then I will be rewarding you -occasionally. Now, we’ll finish with a run. This is only a small room, so I suggest four circuits of the perimeter.’

Jess looked at her in exhausted horror, ‘I can’t.’

‘Not like that you can’t, certainly. Take those knickers off; you need to get some air down there, girl.’

No longer caring about anything but the possibility of a rest, Jess dragged the wet satin away, and following the direction that Miss Sarah was pointing in, began to jog around the room. Her breasts swayed madly and the air seemed to caress her body, inflaming it all over again.

Observing the figure that was obeying her, knowing she’d only have to say the word and she’d willingly allow herself to be fucked, Miss Sarah frowned to herself. Mrs Peters might have designs on forming this girl into the ideal submissive assistant, but she began to wonder if this girl could be dangerous. She had spent a long time building up her guest list; did Miss Sarah really want Miss Sanders muscling in on that?…

The Perfect Submissive is available in all formats from Xcite, Amazon, and all good retailers.

Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters- Day 1 – Not Her Type

Welcome to Day One of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters!

Each day, for the next fourteen days, I will be posting an excerpt from a work of erotica- and I promise each one will be hot!

Week One will feature stories I have written myself. Then, during Week Two, I will be sharing with you extracts from the works of some of my favourite erotica authors.

Let’s kick off proceedings with a healthy sized snack from my kinky courier story, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures of A Delivery Man (OCPress, 2011)…

When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.

One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type….

I’ve been thrilled with the reviews I’ve had for this story (despite it having the ability to shock some readers as the temperature of its chapters increases….!). If you’d like to read a few of them, just follow this link, or check it out on Goodreads.

I thought I’d dive into the middle of this one…so here comes Chapter 8…

Tuesday – The Plan

I have a plan. I just hope I can hold my courage and see it through…

“I don’t have long.”

John’s familiar words spilled from his mouth as he crossed the threshold of Jenny’s home. Throwing a handful of DVDs carelessly across the sofa, his lips were on hers before she had the chance to speak, his hands diving up and under her mini denim skirt. A murmur of appreciation escaped him as his traveling fingertips discovered her lack of knickers and stocking tops. “Shit woman, you get hotter!”

Allowing him to fall into their regular pattern, Jenny let John lead her toward the armchair. “You wanton woman, you’re already wet aren’t you?”

“I knew you were on your way.” Jenny didn’t say anything else as she undid his buttons, pulling his belt from his trousers, loop by loop. Stroking the leather lovingly between her fingers she smiled, “Did I ever tell you that I love belts?” Without waiting for a response, Jenny freed his length and made a fist around his cock. She pumped him twice—as she’d pre-planned in the solo-quiet of the previous evening— before abruptly letting go of him and walking away.

John’s face was a vision of pure confusion as, with hands on her hips, Jenny calmly said, “Get on your knees, delivery man.” He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping free of his pants and dropping to the floor.

Moving forward, without a word, Jenny gestured for John to remove his t-shirt. Walking around him in a slow circle, she examined him from every angle. John had had things his own way for weeks. It was her turn now. The old Jenny had certainly been willingly submissive; someone who relished being led rather than leading, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have the occasional urge to turn the tables and make her partner beg for mercy. She just hoped she hadn’t lost her touch.

Taking a black scarf from a collection of supplies she’d hidden beneath the sofa, Jenny deftly tied his arms behind his back. Unable to hide her pleasure as she continued to study him, Jenny whispered, “There is truly nothing as fantastic to behold as a fuck-me handsome man without power.”

Kneeling before John, she saw that his wide, dark brown eyes were watching her intently. Kissing each of his eyelids, Jenny collected a blindfold from its hiding place and, with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows and a teasing waggle of her fingers, plunged him into darkness. As John opened his mouth to speak, his favorite customer placed a fingertip across his lips. “No talking. Yes?”

John nodded obediently.

Viewing her enslaved lover, Jenny stroked his chest, enjoying the light spring of his hair as it tickled her palms. She knew she was going to make John late for the remainder of his rounds, but she didn’t care, and was going to make sure that he didn’t either.

Reveling in her unprecedented freedom, Jenny let her skirt fall to the floor, her memory teeming with images of their previous animal coupling in the back of his lorry. Her knees and backside still bore the marks of their frantic encounter.

Discarding her shirt and freeing her breasts, she made sure the cotton material caressed John’s tattoos, cleverly letting him know that she was undressing. Jenny placed her hands on John’s shoulders, pushing him so that he was face down on the beige carpet, his hands bound behind him, his arse in the air.

Beginning at his feet, Jenny began a thorough survey of his whole body by stroking a silk handkerchief over his ankles, making John writhe under its tickling touch. Moving it stealthily up the back of his legs, she could taste the sharp tang of tension that infused the room.

He squirmed under her touch. Jenny could tell he was trying to anticipate her next move while struggling not to speak, and she smiled to herself as she dragged the gentle weapon of torture up behind his knees.

By the time Jenny approached the rounded cheeks of his magnificent arse, John’s breathing was ragged, and his tethered hands were clenched together with the effort of not pleading with her to speed up.

Completely absorbed in her task, alternating between both light and firm pressure, Jenny smoothed every inch of his back, his bum, and his sides with the handkerchief, making John flinch and whine until, as she reached his neck, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer, “Oh hell girl, I…”

Cutting through John’s sentence, Jenny said, “As I said earlier, I am very fond of belts. I particularly like the marks they leave behind when they bite the flesh. That sort of blotched, fuzzy, pink patchwork pattern.”

Winding the leather strap around her wrist before she took aim, Jenny let a gentle smack land against John’s butt. His sigh encouraged her, and she began to increase the power behind her strikes. Quickly building up a rhythm, Jenny ignored the growing crescendo of mixed wincing pleasure and protests that shot from his lips as she created a pleasing criss-cross of gridlines on her courier’s taut ass cheeks.

Stopping abruptly, hoping she’d made enough of an impression on his backside for him to feel her presence for the rest of the day, Jenny ordered John to sit up.

She lifted his chin, gave him a lingering kiss, and instructed him in no uncertain terms to shift onto his back. John, his lips pressing together, moved awkwardly, his arms trapped uncomfortably beneath him.

Resuming her delicate torture, Jenny began to work the fabric from his feet and up his legs, watching with fascination as his dick stirred. The courier was trying his best to obey her commands, to resist the urge to turn the tables and ravage her. Jenny—torn between being satisfied with his endurance, and wanting to take his obedience further—struggled with her own increasing arousal and fought to maintain control.

As the handkerchief approached his balls, Jenny cruelly skipped the area, moving onto John’s navel and chest, smiling to herself as his whole body shook with disappointed tension. Focusing on his nipples, Jenny rubbed the material over each one. At first gently, and then scraping her nails viciously across the sensitive flesh. His brow furrowed as his concentration became more fixed.

Only when another moan escaped him did she withdraw from his chest and head south. Wrapping the silken cloth around John’s shaft, Jenny pulled it taut, dragging the loose ends of it along his testicles, investigating every section of his scrotum with delicately precise attention.

Glancing up at his chest, Jenny could see the telltale blotching of scarlet dapple his skin, and knew he was close to coming. Her own need was also almost at breaking point, and she knew the time had come to put them both out of their blissful misery. Teasing a finger over his mouth to remind him to remain quiet, Jenny maneuvered John’s body into a cross-legged sitting position, and undid his binds. Then, picking up his hands, she placed them over her breasts while inhaling the delicious aroma of his body, which smelled of hard work with a pleasant undercurrent of sweet sweat.

Instantly, John began to mold them with his palms as Jenny fished a condom from her optimistically purchased supply. Easing herself onto him, Jenny slapped his legs sharply whenever he tried to move with her. At an agonizing snail’s pace, she began to juice him, rising up and down, until she couldn’t take anymore.

Thudding suddenly against John’s lap with a massive acceleration of pace, Jenny slammed against his length, until the full impact of his climax surged in an urgent rush. Ripping away the blindfold as she continued to move, Jenny peered into her delivery man’s eyes. John stared back with a desire so intense, his expression alone acted as the final stroke for her own muscle-gripping orgasm.

I made him over half an hour late for his rounds. He says he’ll forgive me, but that I’ll have to be punished for holding him up and making his bum sore. He has finally taken my phone number. I am to wait for a text with instructions on it. I also have to hunt out some really old clothes. I wonder why?

Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man is available from the OCPress and all good Kindle, Download, suppliers.

 

Birthday Blog!! Amazing Sh! Amazing Everything!

So, I figure if you can’t have a celebratory blog post when you reach 40, then when can you have one?

And what a week it has been leading up to today!

It all started last Friday with my photo session at the Vanity Studios (see earlier blog), when I happily threw myself into the role of model for the afternoon. Then, takeout coffee to  hand, I moved swiftly on to the wonderful Sh Women’s Store in Hoxton, to read from Best Women’s Erotica 2012 with the amazing (yes, I know I use that word a lot!) Kd Grace, Tiffani Angus , Liz Coldwell and Jacqueline Appleby.

Tiffani Angus

Jacqueline Appleby

Then on Saturday, after a day with my dear friend Kd and her right hand man Raymond, sourcing the history of Shoreditch’s architecture, I was back on Sh’s pink arm chair to launch my paperback novel The Perfect Submissive.

Both evenings were well attended, and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to my fellow writers tell their kinky, funny and sexy tales on Friday night- and more fun still- covertly watching the audience react to the stories they were hearing. It is interesting how the purchases the audience make in the shop change depending on the type of book being read. For example, after the BWE 2012 readings, feather boas, books, and instruments of discreet pleasure were bought. However, after the launch of my BDSM book; collars, whips and paddles were visiting the till of Sh! I have no idea what this says about me or my imagination!!

These more forceful purchases were inspired, not just by the antics of my bondage loving characters, but by the spanking class that  Jo, ‘Mistress of the Event’ held half way! With the help of my assistant for the evening, the smashing Matt (who kindly provided many of the photographs for this blog and delicious sustenance), whose bottom manfully took the smack of many a paddle and whip in the name of education, the spanking session was a great hit (pun very much intended!)- and formed a perfect accompaniment to the tale of Mrs Laura Peters, whose life behind the doors of the Fables Hotel, is spent in pursuit of a perfect submissive…

Mistress Jo!!

Huge thanks to both Xcite for providing the champagne for the evening, and to the Sh chix for keeping us all lubricated throat wise, making us laugh, and being as much fun as ever! Not to mention Lucy Felthouse and her other half, Ian, for my birthday cake!

Since my return to the reality of home, the run up to my birthday has been a nonstop whirl of The Perfect Submissive PR, and launching my latest e-anthology, Tied to the Kitchen Sink- not to mention planning my next project (TOP SECRET!!!) Then on Wednesday night- much to my total surprise- I was whisked out for a surprise party! Spoilt rotten!!!

Turning 40 is a funny one! The number keeps popping into my head as I work- I can‘t quite believe that so many years have passed! I had thought perhaps I would be sad; that I’d be thinking “what have I done with my life?” or “why haven’t I achieved more?”- in fact almost the opposite is true, and I find myself having been blessed with the most incredible luck over the past 40 years.

A wonderful family; the best parents, husband, and children a girl could ask for. And 2 lives- one based around my home and ‘real’ job, and one steeped in the world of erotica! How jammy am I!?

I have a whole heap of adventures, both archaeological and literary to look back on, and to top it all- just before I hit the big 40, my very first novel The Perfect Submissive, came out in paperback!

Life does not get better than this- or does it?- I firmly intend to stick around and find out!

 

 

 

Thanks for dropping by today!

Kay xxx

Get Real: The Art of Love and Belonging by Martha McKinley- A Review

Set around the world of ceramicist Cassie, artist Marcos, and his life model Tara, Get Real: The Art of Love and Belonging; is the story of a threesome, a marriage and of love. It is Martha McKinley’s first novella for the OCPress.

What can you do when a spicy intimacy with someone you love is tainted by guilt? Cassie tries to assuage her worries by indulging in her affair only when in a threesome, but love grows with every climax. How will the players untangle their lust and emotions? And what does art have to do with it anyway? The answer is: Everything.

Infatuated by the artist Marcos, although uneasy about openly displaying her body, Cassie allows him to persuade her to do some life modelling. In order to calm her nerves, Marcos introduces Cassie to his favourite model, Tara. In the privacy of her own home, some hot and imaginative sex soon follows, and a ménage is set up which looks to last- and to alter the lives of its’ triangular participants forever.

Cassie has fallen for Marco’s big time, but he’s married, and as much as she wants to, Cassie knows she could never live with herself if she broke up his marriage.

Marco’s however, has been unhappy in his home life for some time, and has fallen for Cassie in return. Sending her poems, he longs for her to understand just how badly he wants them to be together. Life however, is never that simple, and if he does go to Cassie, what will happen to his wife Maria? And where does the exotic lesbian model Tara fit into all this? Has her eye fallen on Cassie as well, or is she just in this for the sex? – I’m not saying!!!

Told from the perspectives of all the characters, the only criticism I could make of Get Real is that this makes the story a little disjointed in places- but I must emphasise that this in no way detracts from the story, which has some of the best descriptive scenes I have ever read.

As you would expect from a tale based around the world of three creative souls, the colours of the artist’s palette just leap to life from the page. Not only are colours used, but food is brought into the mix, to produce some truly enticing and mouth watering scenarios. I asked Martha to provide me with her favourite-

It was like baking bran muffins, thought Marcos, smiling, as he methodically arrayed the tubes of oil colors to take an inventory of his needs. Combine a cup of wheat bran with a cup of flour, baking soda,  canola oil, eggs, milk, molasses, and raisins; spoon the mixture into wells of the muffin tin, pop them into the oven, and 30 minutes later, they’re done. Same ingredients each time. Same predictable outcome.                      

Making love with Maria was a recipe he had followed faithfully for nearly two decades: several handfuls of  back stroking in the spoons position, a smattering of kisses,  whisking with oral sex until she moaned in pleasure, and finally, entry with deep penetration, ejaculation, and  body-rubbing in the afterglow to send her off to sleep.

She liked sex that way. It was predictable, and she was able to achieve an orgasm and post-coital relaxation every time.

 He had wanted to try dates and walnuts or cranberries with orange peel, but she liked her muffins with raisins and nothing else.

Maria’s foreplay made no time for role-playing or fantasy. She confessed to having no sensation in her breasts. Her anus was strictly off-limits. And aside from her scalp, which she loved having a hair brush raked through, her only sex organ was her clitoris.  No wonder, justified Marcos to himself, that he sought sensual adventures with other women…

Get Real is a really satisfying read, which will appear to lovers of erotica, romance, and the beauty of the written word. A truly special addition to the OCPress collection.

Vanity vanity…

I hate having my photo taken. I really don’t like it AT ALL.

My eyes always end up closed, my teeth stick out, or I’ll be caught mid-conversation, with my mouth open and some impossible expression on my face. However, the nature of my work means a few nice photos of myself are most helpful for PR purposes- so when the kind folks at Vanity Studios asked me if I’d like to visit them again (they did an amazing shoot for me last year), I gladly accepted.

It was so nice to be able to hand over all the decision making to other folk for a short time, and just sit still (SO RARE) while my hair, nails etc were sorted out!

To say to people who know what they are doing- “I have no idea what to do with my hair, I never wear makeup, and only have these clothes- you tell me what to do…” –was bliss! Here’s how some of the shot’s turned out….

7th-8th July Free Story! Part One of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy- Hidden Agenda

This weekend you can get the first part of my Perfect Submissive Trilogy- Hidden Agenda- free on Amazon!

Why not join Jess Sanders, as she begins her journey into the serect world that exists on the fifth floor of The Fables Hotel? The manageress, Mrs Laura Peters, really does have a hidden agenda…

Part 1 – Hidden Agenda

Hidden behind the Fables Hotel’s respectable facade, five specially adapted rooms wait; ready to cater for the kinky requirements of its guests. When Mrs Peters, the mistress of the hotel’s exclusive entertainment facility, meets the new booking clerk, Jess Sanders, she instantly recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education. But is Jess willing to learn, and will Mrs Peters remain focused now that hotel guest, Sam Wheeler has caught both her professional and personal eye?

Free on Amazon and Amazon.com on 7th and 8th July

Free Story! Part One of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy- Hidden Agenda

This weekend you can get the first part of my Perfect Submissive Trilogy- Hidden Agenda- free on Amazon!

Why not join Jess Sanders, as she begins her journey into the serect world that exists on the fifth floor of The Fables Hotel? The manageress, Mrs Laura Peters, really does have a hidden agenda…

Part 1 – Hidden Agenda

Hidden behind the Fables Hotel’s respectable facade, five specially adapted rooms wait; ready to cater for the kinky requirements of its guests. When Mrs Peters, the mistress of the hotel’s exclusive entertainment facility, meets the new booking clerk, Jess Sanders, she instantly recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education. But is Jess willing to learn, and will Mrs Peters remain focused now that hotel guest, Sam Wheeler has caught both her professional and personal eye?

Free on Amazon and Amazon.com on 30th June and 1st July