Kay Jaybee's Blog, page 20
October 2, 2019
Coming Soon: A Kink a Day – Book Four
I’m delighted to announce that the next anthology in my ‘A Kink a Day’ series will be out on the 21st October
Blurb
From a restraint fantasy in a dusty South African quarry, to the soap-frothed kinky reminiscences of a soldier; the sexy end-of-the-line activities of a bus driver, to the hidden world where willing men do “Just as She says”, A Kink a Day, Book Four, provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week- with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.
***
This, the fourth in the series, contains erotic tales of romance, BDSM romance, FF action, bondage, domination and much more.
Here’s a mini taste from the FemDom story…
The Girl Next Door
‘Get down on your knees. I want to see you crawling.’
He looked at her. Surely she was joking? Her green eyes had narrowed to hard flint slits. No, she wasn’t joking. He dropped onto all fours, his bare legs cold against the tiled bathroom floor.
Jack knew he should have asked her what the hell she was doing in his house. He should have demanded to know why she was barging in on him in the bathroom when he was about to shower, but the words caught in his throat at the sight of her. It was as if a stranger stood before him, not Kim, the girl he’d known for so long. Kim was just the quiet girl who lived next door.
On his knees he hovered below her, self conscious that his dick was stirring, swelling under her piercing gaze. Despite the two pints of beer he’d drunk that evening, his mouth was dry. He licked his lips apprehensively as he waited to see what would happen next…
***
You can pre-order your copy of A Kink a Day- Book Four from…
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords
***
A Kink a Day One, Two and Three are available now if you want something to ease away the stress of the day while you’re waiting for book Four to arrive.
Happy reading- well, ordering!
Kay xx
September 26, 2019
Something for the Weekend: The New Room
This weekend I’m sharing a little from the novella length, finale to the Perfect Submissive trilogy, The New Room
#somethingfortheweekend
Blurb
A Perfect Submissive Series short story. (Following on from The Perfect Submissive Trilogy)
Resident submissive of the Fables Hotel’s adult entertainment floor, Miss Jess Sanders, has been instructed to test out the new facility that her manageress, Mrs Peters, has designed for the sexual pleasure of her clients.
With a dungeon, Victorian study, medical bay, school room, and the daunting White Room already available for their guests, Jess can’t begin to imagine what lies behind the innocent looking door to the fifth floor’s new room.
Under the supervision of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, as Jess steps into the new room, she quickly discovers she is about to experience far more than she bargained for… at freezing temperatures.
With the feeling that she’s acting in a play that everyone knows the script to but her, the Fables’ perfect submissive is challenged to the limit in Mrs Peters’ new room, and beyond…
Extract
Her instructions had been to go through the door, walk three paces forward, and then stand and wait inside the fifth floor’s latest facility.
Frost was already crusting over Jess’ shoulders, and the dampness of anticipation that gathered at her crotch prickled as it chilled against her surrounding’s winter-like caress. Her eyes stung with as she blinked into the stark brightness of the space, but as Jess’ hands had been secured behind her back, she couldn’t rub them better.
As the submissive looked about her, she saw that not only could the discerning paying guest at the hotel enjoy the delights of a pseudo-school room, a Victorian study, a dungeon, a medical bay, and the intimidating White Room; they could now experience icy arousal in a fairy-tale style snow grotto.
The ceiling and walls had been studded with crystals and draped with shimmering chiffon fabric that took away the room’s rectangular proportions, making the space feel cavernous. Tiny silver fairy-lights sparkled like glitter, while genuine ice granules clung to every surface, including the fake snow that made a distinct crunch beneath Jess’ strappy silver heels.
Having been stripped of all her clothes by a silent Mrs Peters, prior to being thrust across the new room’s threshold, Jess had been surprised that she’d been allowed her to keep her shoes on. Now she understood why. Only the heavy silver and green velvet robe that had been hung around her naked shoulders gave the submissive any level of protection against the all-invading cold. If she’d had to stand on bare feet in the room, even after all her endurance training, Jess wouldn’t have lasted for more than a few minutes before she had frost bitten soles and toes.
Surveying her surroundings more thoroughly, Jess was just contemplating how easy it would be to hide instruments of sexual play and deprivation between the fake cavern walls and the real walls, when she became aware of the sound of a faint hum.
The distinct brrring vibration of a refrigeration unit.
No wonder it felt so arctic; the room was literally a freezer.
A freezer that held nothing but two chairs, that sat in the very centre of the frost-crisped pseudo-cave.
One seat was more like a fairytale throne than a chair. Made of wrought iron and painted silver, its high back was decorated with intricate butterfly and flower shapes. Well padded with plush, silver satin cushions over the back and seat, Jess already knew it was far too comfortable to have been placed in the room for her use.
The chair to the throne’s right was stark by comparison. Wooden and straight backed; it had been painted plain white and held neither ornamentation nor cushions. That’s where I’ll have to sit, Jess thought, if I’m permitted to sit at all.
The crunch of snow being scraped behind her told Jess that someone had opened the door. She didn’t turn to see who it as. She knew better than that.
A pair of hands came to her shoulders, but the heavy fabric of her cloak prevented Jess from being able to tell whose grip it was. Mrs Peters had told her this was to be the first staff training session in this room; therefore the hands had to belong to a member of the Fables staff. The tone of the breathing behind her, combined with the size of the handhold, informed Jess the newcomer was male. That meant it had to be either Master Lee Philips, the barman and occasional helper on the fifth floor, or Mr Sam Wheeler, Mrs Peters’ personal slave, business partner, and professional artist.
The hands didn’t move from their position on Jess’s shoulders as the whirr of the generator was abruptly drowned out by the activation of some ethereal music from a speaker hidden between the folds of the fake ceiling. The haunting Celtic lyrics drifted into Jess’ ears, adding to the eerie atmosphere and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the unknown person stepped closer to her back.
With each fresh second that passed, Jess had the uneasy feeling that she’d walked into the throne room of the Snow Queen – a wicked Snow Queen.
The masculine hands moved slowly. The confidence of touch that Jess had come to recognise from the men on the Fables staff was missing. As the palms slid down her arms, ducking beneath her cloak, the visitor took each of the submissive’s tethered wrists in his hands, and briskly marched Jess forward.
The submissive’s mind raced. Who is this man?…
Buy from
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords
“Fans of The Perfect Submissive series rejoice. This is the novella we’ve been longing for. I won’t spoil it but this story had me bouncing with glee. All of your favourite characters make an appearance and as you would expect, the scenes are intense and exciting. A big thumbs up and sexy striptease for this wonderful short story.” Goodreads
Happy reading.
Kay xx
September 20, 2019
Something for the Weekend: Not Her Type
It’s time to enjoy some weekend smut.
This week I’m sharing the beginning of my hot delivery man erotica,
Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures of a Delivery Man
(copyright- Kay Jaybee and 1001NightsPress)
Tuesday – It Begins
What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.
A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.
Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.
Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever.
As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.
“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.”
Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him.
His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jenny’s pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.
Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.
Her head buzzed, and her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down but, at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.
Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. “I want to see you on your hands and knees,” he ordered.
Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse.
Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle, and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body, and flipped her onto her back, before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing in the glorious warmth of her orgasm, as he shot his spunk into her naked body.
As soon as their breathing levels returned to normal, John knelt close to Jenny, teasing out the springy curls of her hair as he spoke, “I’m sorry Jen. I don’t like just walking out on you, but I have to go. I’m behind with my rounds.” Jenny watched her courier dress with lightning speed, leaving in a flurry of promises and assurances that he’d return the following week.
The living room seemed so large, so empty once John’s bulky frame had gone. Stunned and disheveled, Jenny stared at the space around her as delayed shock kicked in.
How the hell had that happened?
It had been years since Jenny had had sex. Twelve years, in fact; if you discounted one brief and unsatisfactory encounter that occurred three years ago. That was four thousand, three hundred, and eighty days of a self-imposed embargo after one-too-many broken hearts. She had survived by surrounding herself with friends, reading hundreds of erotica books, and giving in to countless masturbation sessions. But now, out of nowhere, right in the middle of her lounge, , when she should have been sitting at her little desk checking other peoples’ accounts, she’d been thoroughly and expertly fucked.
Standing perfectly motionless, and very aware of her pulse pounding against her chest in the eerie quiet, Jenny tried to figure out what on earth had just happened. How their usual coffee break, with each of them sitting on either side of her dining table, had developed into a semi-naked romp on the sofa.
John had been in her home for only thirty minutes, and twenty of those had been spent discussing the DVDs that he’d come to deliver, just as he did every Tuesday. Then, he’d said something about how much he enjoyed their weekly chats, how hers was the only home where he was received as a friend, and how he always felt strange leaving her without so much as a hug.
Thinking back, trying to make sense of it all, Jenny thought that perhaps she’d laughed nervously when he’d said that, and told him she’d liked their “putting the world to rights” time as well.
That was when he’d actually hugged her for real, and she’d looked up into his wide, dark brown eyes and, in all of her thirty-three years, she had never felt a twist of lust like the one she felt then. It had burnt into her like some sort of erotic radiation.
How did I not see that coming? How bloody naive have I become? Jenny wondered. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s single…It’s been so long since I had a quick fuck. Too long…Hell, now I want another one, and soon. Damn.
Running upstairs to her bedroom, Jenny stripped off her hastily donned clothes and stared critically into the full-length mirror. Do I look different? No, my arms are still a touch too flabby, my backside a little too big, and my skin too pale.
She felt different though. A bit like the girl she used to be, when she’d been a student. When she’d been braver.
As Jenny carried on staring at her reflection, she allowed her hands to trace the outline of her body, a body that was already infused with the heady aftershocks of being totally seen to. Flashbacks of her past assailed her. Things she’d consigned to the back of her mind and nailed up into a little box, never to be opened again—parts of her life that she had long since given up on.
Losing all concept of time as she stood there, naked, still able to feel the mark of his fingers on her flesh, Jenny shook her head, trying to dismiss the memories that her body’s unscheduled reawakening had brought to the surface. She wondered just how many customers John had seduced with those dangerous eyes. How many other sets of fingertips had tripped lightly over the Japanese-styled characters tattooed on his muscular arms?
“Let’s face it,” she spoke sternly to her reflection, “that was just a one-off. Next week he’ll just want a quick coffee as usual.” Doing her best to pull herself together, Jenny unhooked her wrap from the back of her bedroom door. Heading to the shower, her wits were a tattered mass of contradictions—the elation she felt from the astounding sex was at odds with the very clear proclamation that was niggling at the back of her head. Jenny honey, he just isn’t your type. He isn’t even close!
***
If you want to know what happens next (and I can promise you one hell of a kinky ride), you can buy Not Her Type in either eBook or paperback form from….
Links-
1001 NightsPress- http://1001nightspress.com/#!/page_KayJaybee
Happy Reading!!
Kay
September 16, 2019
Barcelona Baby!
Two weeks ago I celebrated my 15th anniversary of ‘being’ Kay Jaybee.
Thanks to a competition I won at this March’s Eroticon UK – I was lucky enough to spend that anniversary in the beautiful city of Barcelona – courtesy of Fetish.com.
This was my first trip to Barcelona, and I packed everything I could into my visit – including a peep around the door of Fetish.com HQ!
Diego, Kay and Miguel
Greeted by the lovely Nuria, Diego and Miguel, I was treated to a delicious staff lunch (rather better than the tuna sandwich I tend to grab here) and given a tour of their office on the top floor of an apartment block. What a view!
They even have their own pool- from which, I’m assured, they often have meetings, in the company of the all essential rubber duck!
Having talked business and pleasure, I left the good folk of Fetish.com and continued to enjoy a whirlwind adventure around Barcelona, taking in the stunning cathedral, as many coffee shops as possible and the main city museum, which leads the way down to the Roman city that still survives beneath Barcelona’s modern equivalent.
I was in historian heaven.
Roman Barcelona – church site
One venue I could hardly fail to visit was the Erotica Museum. Here, tucked away above shops, is hidden a fantastic collection of kink, from the weird to the wonderful, the kitsch to the luxurious.
Chastity Belts
A fascination with sex and our sexual lives and drives has been with humanity since records began.
Scenes from the Karma Sutra
From the ‘availability’ paintings from the brothel of Pompeii, to the pleasure machines of the ‘supposedly prudish’ Victorians, and everything in between, this interesting- and occasionally eye watering- collection is a must see for any erotica fan. (They sell lovely underwear as well – #justsaying)
As I sipped coffee, sampled ice cream, and generally took in the glorious architecture and atmosphere, I couldn’t help but reflection how I came to be in such as beautiful city in the first place.
One random event- 15 years ago- changed my entire life.
As regular readers to this blog will know, I wrote a story on a napkin. A cross dressing kink tale. The idea came from nowhere- I’d had no idea when I wrote up that day that I was going to write anything other than a shopping list. That story- three months later- was published- and the rest is history.
I know that, if Violet Blue hadn’t taken ‘Jen and Tim’ for her anthology Lips Like Sugar, then I wouldn’t have written anything else. It was just supposed to be a one off burst of fun. The minute I’d submitted the story, I forgot all about it- until the acceptance letter arrived from the USA…
…after that, I was hooked…and I still am.
Thanks again to Fetish for their kindness and generosity. Don’y forget, you can reach their brilliant adult dating/information website by clicking this link– or the banner that lives at the bottom of my blog site.
And thank you to you, lovely reader. Without you, Kay Jaybee simply wouldn’t exist.
Happy reading,
Kay xx
September 12, 2019
Something for the Weekend: Wednesday on Thursday
This weekend I thought I’d share a little from my ‘mind game’ menage/erotic romance, Wednesday on Thursday
#somethingfortheweekend
Blurb
There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.
Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the café stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.
The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.
It’s totally harmless…
…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.
After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.
Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.
A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…
Extract from Wednesday on Thursday
… Wednesday had selected her clothes with more care than usual. She told herself she was wearing her best underwear because it gave her more confidence. It was absolutely not because she’d spent a largely sleepless night dreaming of the coffee guy’s expression as he ran his shrewd gaze over her jet black satin bra with matching knickers.
With one extra button open on her shirt, Wednesday left her flat, raking her hand restlessly through her long chestnut hair. She kept telling herself that he was just a bloke who got off on the power of making her feel sexy. That was perfectly all right by her, because he clearly had no intention of doing anything beyond titillating her imagination.
Wednesday had experienced her fair share of relationships during her twenty-nine years, but no-one had ever managed to arouse her with a single glance before.
‘For goodness sake, woman, you don’t even know his name!’ Even though she kept trying to talk sense into herself, the four hours until lunchtime couldn’t pass fast enough.
By the time her break finally arrived, Wednesday thought her heart was going to thud right through her chest with nervous tension. Walking into the café, she was more than usually aware of the sound of her heels clattering across the wooden floor.
Wednesday forced herself not to look for him, to just queue up for her latte and toasted sandwich as she always did. Even though she managed to prevent herself from obviously surveying the busy room, she covertly hunted for him nonetheless.
He wasn’t there. A sensation of disappointment gripped her. She felt stupid; humiliated even. But only briefly.
There was an envelope on her regular table.
Sitting down with her food and drink, Wednesday gaped at the cream coloured envelope. Her name was written in clear script across its front.
Wednesday took a soothing sip of her drink as she wondered if the coffee guy was hidden nearby. She had an uneasy feeling that, if he was secretly observing her, he’d be getting off on watching her reactions. Struggling to steady her erratic breathing, Wednesday was more than a little aware that her tits were doing their best to burst through their satin holster.
Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope.
The words had an instant impact on her internal temperature gauge. Wednesday’s body began to alternate between flushing with heat and shivering with cold, as if she was getting a fever and a chill at the same time.
Dear Wednesday,
Forgive my rudeness for not having properly introduced myself before now.
My name is Lucas.
I will be blunt. I find you fascinating, and would like to make love to you. I would like to say my intentions are honourable, but they are not. They are lust-driven, and I feel it only fair you know that from the start.
If you are interested in knowing more, then please come to the address below once you have consumed your toasted sandwich. If you choose not to visit, then I will leave you in peace from this moment forward.
Whatever your decision, I would prevail upon you to keep this correspondence private.
Flat 1.
56 Chambers Way.
Regards,
L x
P.S. I apologise for the coffee incident. I trust I did not damage you. I will make the sincerity of my regret known to you should you decide to be my guest.
Wednesday didn’t finish her lunch.
Her legs had started taking her in the direction of Chambers Way without bothering to ask the rest of her if it was a good idea or not.
She knew the address.
The building, a private block of flats, was only two hundred metres from the office block where Wednesday had been employed as an administration clerk for the past two years.
Knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find out what was within Flat 1, with her pulse racing, Wednesday hovered outside a dark green front door.
A door that led to Lucas and whatever he planned to do by way of an apology.
Without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Wednesday knocked twice…
Buy Now
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Amazon CA
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iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
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Happy reading,
Kay x
September 5, 2019
Something for the weekend: A Kink A Day Book One
The time for some erotic reading indulgence has arrived.
This week, I’m easing you into the weekend with an extract from my sexy anthology,
Blurb:
From the spank of a belt, to the unorthodox use of a dictionary; the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, to the afterhours indulgences of the staff recreating life in a strictly-run Victorian manor, A Kink a Day Book One provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week—with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.
***
Extract from Through the Gap
I caught my breath as Sally ran through the master bedroom’s door and, without taking time to explain, bundled me away from making the bed, into the dressing room cupboard and slammed the door. I stumbled back amongst the hat boxes and glove racks that filled the small, musty space. Scrambling to my feet, I pushed an eye up to the crack between the ill-fitting double doors, just in time to see both the housekeeper and the Master of the house follow Sally into the room.
There had been rumours, of course. The other members of staff frequently whispered amongst themselves of debauchery and submission, without realising they were being overheard. Six months of working in this house, of being neither seen nor heard as I discharged my duties, had made me an expert at overhearing things, and yet I had discovered nothing concrete to substantiate such gossip.
I suppose I have a rather strange job; it’s a bit like being an actor and a bit like being a domestic, but mostly I’m part of a complex tourist attraction. Each day, my colleagues and I dress in Victorian costume and work our way around a period manor house.
As a chamber maid, my place is in the bedrooms. I dart between all 25 chambers, making and unmaking beds which are never slept in, stoking naked fireplaces, dusting, sweeping and generally doing all those domestic chores associated with Victorian maids. I’m allowed to answer questions from the tourists, but otherwise I have to keep myself to myself, lower my eyes when my betters pass by, and try and remain invisible in their presence. I had dismissed the rumours of sexual deviancy as the product of boredom from some of our senior staff members’ lurid imaginations; fantasies concocted to liven up a slow tourism day. Until now.
Mrs Lawson grabbed Sally’s wrist and pulled her towards the Master. His face was solemn, and a stern furrow appeared on his brow as he peered into the eyes of the scullery maid. ‘Mrs Lawson informs me that you’ve been found wandering about above stairs again, young lady. That is not your place, is it?’
‘No, sir.’ Sally’s voice had taken on a meekness that was so convincing I wondered if it was genuine. I tried to quieten my breathing so I could hear what they were saying.
‘You know the punishment, don’t you?’
Sally nodded at the Master again and I watched as, on a signal from Mrs Lawson, Sally undid her apron and took off her cap and shoes. The housekeeper then leant forward and yanked off my colleague’s black working dress, so that she stood shivering in some far-from-Victorian underwear.
Mrs Lawson’s eyebrows rose. ‘And what exactly are those, young lady?’ her voice was harsh, but the high points of colour that had appeared on her face showed how much she was enjoying the situation as she observed Sally in her black stockings, matching bra and knickers.
Sally said nothing, but hung her head in humble submission, as the Master of the house placed a large hand on the back of her neck, gripping it firmly.
‘You have the collar, Mrs Lawson?’
‘Indeed, sir,’ the housekeeper produced a short black leather collar from her capacious apron pocket, and swiftly secured it around the maid’s pale neck. Then, rummaging further, she pulled out a thin lead and clipped it to the small silver loop that was positioned at the front of the collar.
My throat felt as if it had dried closed; I could hardly swallow as I watched, afraid of being discovered, but at the same time wishing the gap I was peering through was bigger, so I could see more.
I was unable to hear what the Master was saying now; he’d lowered his voice, almost to a whisper as he pulled on the lead which hung between her breasts. Then, in one swift, brutal movement, he grabbed the front of her bra and pulled it off, snapping the strap beyond repair. Her tits spilled out, revealing themselves to be even bigger than they’d first appeared. I moistened my lips. I could almost taste them and, enviously, I watched as the Master, yanking on the lead, bought Sally closer to him, before bowing down and engulfing a hard, nut brown nipple between his lips.
Sally had been a friend ever since I’d joined the house’s workforce, and unbeknownst to her, I’d had a massive crush on her from the first time I’d admired her in her pristine white apron and mop cap. To see her receive another’s erotic attentions was agony to my jealous body. I pressed my eye harder to the crack and strained my ears so I could hear the muted mewls my eyes told me were emanating from her lipstick-free mouth.
Mrs Lawson, who’d been watching the scene before her with obvious satisfaction, stepped forward and, once she had received approval from her superior, bent to Sally’s other breast. I could imagine so well how wonderful that would feel, the tingling attention, the sharp tang of want that each nip, each kiss, would send hurtling between her legs as both tits were stimulated at once.
I was aware of my own growing arousal. It had been simmering at the back of my mind ever since Sally had thrown me into the cupboard. Now it was controlling me, and I couldn’t help wondering if my friend had engineered things so I could observe her. A second’s panic shot through me, and I pulled away from the door. What if Sally told them I was here? What would they do to me if they found me? Then I sort of hoped they would find me. My breasts chaffed against my bra and stiffly starched uniform, as I wondered how I’d cope in Sally’s position.
My fantasy was cut short by a sharp scream, and I was drawn back to the real life drama in the adjoining room. The maid’s knickers had, in my few second’s lapse of concentration, been removed, and she was now on all fours. Mrs Lawson held a short white cane, which she had presumably kept in her apron pocket, and was rhythmically tanning Sally’s backside as the Master pulled the lead, making the girl walk after him like an obedient bitch on heat.
I was able to view them from every angle, as they moved in circles around the room, Sally yelping as the cane struck her neat backside. Our Master’s eyes blazed, his dick bulging beneath his suit trousers, while the housekeeper revelled in her administration of pain.
Without registering what I was doing, I slipped off my apron and slid a hand into my knickers as I watched. My juices stuck to my fingertips as I imagined Sally’s liquid dripping from her damp pussy. For despite her calls of anguish, the maid’s face glowed with desire, and there was no doubt in my mind that this scenario had been played out, and enjoyed, many times before….
If you want to find out what happened next you can buy A Kink a Day One from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords
***
Happy reading,
Kay xx
September 2, 2019
Fifteen Years…and counting
This week sees the 15th anniversary of the first time I wrote some erotica! A fact that, in itself, seems impossible to me – a shy, self-conscious, paranoiac woman who has never quite got used to the fact that people actually want to by her books!
I still maintain that- if that very first story hadn’t been published- I’d never have picked a pen up for fiction creation ever again.
I am particularly fortunate in that, this year, I’m celebrating this anniversary with a trip to Barcelona courtesy of Fetish.com
Much to my surprise, when I was teaching at the Eroticon event last March, I won the 69 seconds competition…the prize being 2 nights in Barcelona. I fly there today!
You could see how I won my prize here-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnTASTDgE3E&feature=youtu.be&has_verified=1
As with any anniversary, I have found myself reflecting on all that has happened to me ‘writing wise’ over the past decade and a half.
What a roller coaster ride it has been. Or perhaps it’s been more of a carousel, a long roundabout of constant ups and downs, but where, ultimately you always end up back where started, and yet you can’t quite stop the ride to get off…?
My first piece of erotica was a written on a paper serviette in a cafe in Aberdeenshire. I swear the idea came to be from nowhere. I don’t know why I was suddenly thinking about a cross dressing male who liked to have his arse spanked- but that is exactly what happened.
It took some time for me to be brave enough to do anything with the story. It was a couple of weeks before it made it onto a proper piece of paper, and several more before it was typed onto my computer and edited into shape. The amount of courage it took me to look up erotica publishers on the Internet- and the covert way I went about it- seems laughable now.
I sent off my story- which I rather unimaginatively had called Jen and Tim to Cleis Press- never expecting to hear anything again, and in the meantime, I’d written a rather kinky poem called Regrets, which I sent to the much missed Oysters and Chocolate web site. Then, I told myself to leave it alone, to look after my children and take up knitting or something. I never expected to hear back from either publisher. I certainly never expected to get both pieces taken- and I truly never expected the buzz the feeling of acceptance gave me- that was it- I was hooked- an addict to the acceptance of a publisher for the rest of my life!
It took 40 short story and poetry publications before I was brave enough to write something longer, and when I did, I cheated.
The Collector is both an anthology and a short novel- a set of different erotic stories- one for every genre within the discipline. I learnt a great deal from writing hat book- and I still hold it in great affection.
Now, 15 years later, with over 200 stories to my name, including many novellas and novels, including the gratifyingly popular The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (The Fifth Floor, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place), I am still addicted, still hungry for the ‘yes’ of a publisher. Having a back record to your name never guarantees a story will be taken, and nor should it. Each new tale I write has to be worth publication on its own merits; it shouldn’t be published just because KJB wrote it.
Over the past 5 years, I’ve had less time to write erotica as I have been fortunate to have some success with my other pen names (Jenny Kane – contemporary fiction and Jennifer Ash – medieval crime), and I’ve set up a creative writing tutoring business called Imagine, (with my friend and colleague, Alison Knight)
Kay is still here however, and I’m pleased to be able to announce that before the end of 2019, my Fem Dom anthology, Yes Ma’am will be re-edited, recovered, and re-released. As well as this, the next anthology (Book Four) in my ‘A Kink a Day’ series will be released.
Meanwhile, my Jenny Kane side is now agent-ed, and excitedly awaiting the publication of a new romcom, and Jennifer Ash is busy writing the forth of The Folville Chronicles.
As well as this, I’ll have some erotica writing workshops up and running in 2020 – so watch this space!
Victoria Blisse, Tabitha Rayne, Kay, and Kd Grace at Eroticon 2019
There are so many people who have helped get me this far. So many friends I’ve made along the way- from the wonderful Brit Babes, to fellow bloggers and writers, to readers and positive sex supporters. I’ve very lucky.
I will end by saying thank you to a few extra special people who’ve helped keep me going on those occasions when the roller-coaster has got stuck at the bottom, or the carousel as jammed on the downward motion.
Kd Grace, Lucy Felthouse, Victoria Blisse, Ashley Lister, Renee and the staff of Sh.
I honestly can’t believe I’m still writing everyday, and living the life I love so much.
THANK YOU
Kay xx
August 29, 2019
Something for the Weekend: Equipment
For this week’s #somethingfortheweekend feature I thought I’d share a little from my erotic romance /BDSM romance collection: Equipment and other stories.
Blurb–
To his lust driven delight, Lee Cooper’s opinion that his girlfriend simply doesn’t have the Equipment to take control in the bedroom is quickly and deliciously.
Meanwhile, Kim is sick of her gorgeous neighbour Jack bringing home a non-stop string of unsuitable women to screw, while completely failing to notice the girl right under his nose. Taking extreme measures she sets out to prove she is more than just The Girl Next Door.
Mark’s girlfriend is Searching For Her– the perfect woman to make her lover’s dreams come true. A quest which leads her into the path of more than one willing young lady…
****
Here’s an little snippet from Equipment to ease you into the weekend…
The moment I saw his naked arse, I knew that I wanted to fuck it, and I told him so. It was the first time I’d seen Lee Cooper unsure of himself. For a split second a veil of uncertainty, possibly even fear, had crossed his generally ultra-confident square features. It didn’t last though, and he was soon shrugging my statement off with a lad-ish laugh, ‘you ain’t got the equipment baby,’ as he eased his solid cock into my willing body.
I started working part-time at the garage, where Lee is employed as a mechanic, three months ago. The first thing he said to me, as his clear brown eyes appraised my slight frame and red plaited hair was, ‘I’m looking forward to pulling on those pigtails honey.’ From anybody else I wouldn’t have taken a comment like that, but somehow from Lee it was okay. He exuded a sort of sexual confidence, and the instant and silent knowledge that eventually we would fuck radiated from his every pore. It would have been foolish of me to deny that unspoken understanding, and I privately looked forward to the day I’d discover if the tattoos that adorned his muscular arms, extended to his chest and down his legs.
That was three flirtatious months ago, and it had been fun letting the erotic tension build between us, getting more intense as the weeks of inaction ticked by, but finally, Lee’s resolve had broken. He told me, as he hammered an impatient fist on my front door during his lunch hour, that he’d been changing the oil in a beat-up old motorcar, when he’d realised he couldn’t hold on another moment.
After the glorious frisson of the wait, there was always the risk that the reality wouldn’t live up to the expectation. I hadn’t been disappointed however, far from it.
I smiled to myself as Lee dragged his grubby boiler suit back on, and disappeared down my garden path at a run. His words echoed in my head, “You ain’t got the equipment baby.” A wicked twinkle began to shine in my eyes at the prospect of what lay ahead for the unsuspecting mechanic, and speaking across the empty room, I said, ‘Well actually Mr Lee Cooper, I have all the equipment we could possibly need…’
The thought of his tight arse, of claiming it as my own, of taking control of Lee for a while, and perhaps robbing him of a portion of his macho-attitude, grew within me, and I began to lay plans for the temporary domination of this alpha-male.
On Lee’s next visit, predictably the following lunchtime, I embarked on a mission to both enjoy myself, and to lull him into a false sense of security, neither mentioning how delicious I found his backside, nor my eventual intentions for it. As his calloused hands made their way over my naked chest, pinching my nipples with exquisitely painful squeezes, I groaned with genuine pleasure. Stroking the beautifully toned body that pushed against mine, I relished the sight of the tanned multi-tattooed chest I’d so recently discovered.
It was on Lee’s fourth visit that I kept my hands exclusively on his backside. Patting it gently, smoothing it, and caressing it, in a totally non-threatening way, as my new lover pumped himself swiftly in and out of me.
On the fifth visit Lee announced he’d had a dream about tying me up. His face, when I told him that he could do just that, was a picture. I’m not sure if he was more turned on by the fact he could do anything he liked to me, while my hands were secured behind my naked back, or by the feeling of power my helplessness gave him. I suspect the latter. As Lee’s warm tongue explored my stomach, and ducked skilfully between my spread legs, I wallowed submissively in the blissful feelings that engulfed me.
During visit number six, a rare after work encounter, while Lee was both fucking and smacking my arse with stingingly wonderful efficiency, the last few parts of my plan fell into place, and I knew that my need to take his firm neat backside was reaching the point of obsession.
A little over two weeks after Lee had first turned up on my doorstep, I decided the time had come to act. Laying out my sex toys in a neat row near my pillow, I hid them from view with my duvet. Removing the clutter of clothes from the battered old armchair I keep in the corner of my bedroom, I adjusted its position so that it was at the foot of the bed. Then I took off my regular jeans and t-shirt, and put on my tight black Lycra bodice and matching knickers. The caress of the clinging material against my flesh was enough to increase my pulse-rate, and boot-up the arousal I had been so carefully keeping in check.
Lee’s distinctive knock on the door came at almost exactly seven o’clock as we’d arranged. I smiled quietly to myself at his promptness and, wrapping myself in a black silk robe, descended the stairs to collect my unwitting victim.
‘Wow babe,’ his appreciative eyes ran over my robed frame, ‘like the silk.’ He reached forward, and I allowed Lee to engulf me briefly in his arms, his stubble scratching my cheeks as his mouth came to mine. Then, I broke away from his magnetic warmth, holding him at arms length.
‘You like what you see?’ I grinned at Lee, my green eyes reflecting into his brown ones, ‘you want to see more?’…
****
If you’d like to find out what happens to Lee next, you can buy Equipment from all good e-retailers- including…
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Equipment-Other-Stories-Group-Erotica-ebook/dp/B0096DL33A
http://www.amazon.com/Equipment-Other-Stories-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B0096DL33A/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1406036656&sr=1-1&keywords=Equipment+kay+jaybee
Happy reading,
Kay xx
August 22, 2019
Something for the Weekend: The Perfect Submissve Box Set
Something for the weekend?
I thought I’d share a little from my BDSM novel series, The Perfect Submissive today ( made up of The Fifth Floor , The Retreat and Knowing Her Place )
Why have one book, when you can have three for the price of three cups of coffee?
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…
In the following extract, Miss Jess Sanders has been working at the Fables Hotel for a few days now, and has been introduced to the pseudo school room. We join the action were the poor girl has been tied to an art table for what seems like hours, and now, at last, physical relief has arrived…
‘Master Philips, this is Miss Jess Sanders, the new administration clerk, and soon, well … let’s just say, I have high hopes for this young lady.’
Jess’s brain galloped off at a number of conflicting tangents as Lee nodded in evident understanding. An understanding Jess certainly did not share. What high hopes?
‘While you were lying here enjoying yourself, Miss Sanders, Master Philips here, has proffered me a great service.’
Jess said nothing, her eyes trained on the white tabletop before her, not wanting to see the predatory look of either of the people who towered over her. She could feel the sexual tension rising in the stale air of the room, and her body tingled.
Daring another glance at the young man, Jess took in the short dark hair, the slim body, the midnight blue eyes, and the unmistakable bulge of a hard cock beneath his suit trousers, which made her pussy give an involuntary spasm against the brush.
‘As you can see, Master Philip, Miss Sanders has been corked with one of the heftier classrooms paintbrushes. Just a little something to keep that untutored body amused in my absence.’
Jess closed her eyes as she heard Mrs Peters talking about her as if she was a mere thing, a toy to be played with. The idea appalled her, and yet, somehow the thought that they could do whatever they liked to her, sent another shot of desire through her abused frame, confusing her further.
Lee said nothing, but watched as Mrs Peters’ hand went towards the bristles that extruded from the girl’s cunt. Jess groaned as it was abruptly pulled out, leaving her pussy emptier than ever.
Sardonically observing Lee’s aroused state, the manageress asked him, ‘Would you like your dick to replace the brush handle for Miss Sanders? I’m sure that right now she is feeling particularly in need of filling, and I know you have a cock worthy of the job.’
Without raising his head, Lee replied, ‘Thank you Mrs Peters, I would.’
‘Then assist me.’
Swiftly Jess’s bindings were untied. It felt strange to be free, and the clerk’s shoulders cracked as she moved, flexing her arms and legs to get her blood circulating again. Jess wasn’t allowed her freedom for long however, as Mrs Peters yanked her arms sharply behind her back, re-tying her wrists, and shoving her into the larger and more comfortable teacher’s chair, her butt on the very edge of the seat, her legs spread.
‘As you are aware, Master Philips, I consider patience one of life’s greatest virtues, a lesson I think, by the look of desperation that is shining so blatantly in Miss Sanders’ eyes, it is high time she learnt.’
‘Yes Mrs Peters.’ Lee deflated slightly as he realised he would have to wait a little longer for his reward, but felt better when Laura passed him the paintbrush, knowing precisely what he was supposed to do with it.
Jess, her eyes wide, her throat drier than ever, watched as Lee ran the brush’s soft bristles between his fingers. Kneeling before Jess, he placed the tip of the paintbrush on the very end of her right nipple. Gasping with shock at the sensitivity of the touch, Jess began to shiver against the sweeping strokes Lee focused on her breast.
‘I must congratulate you, Master Philips.’ Mrs Peters spoke with approval. ‘You have an excellent technique there, arousing, and stimulating, without being quite enough to make your subject come.’
Jess groaned. Why wouldn’t they let her come? As the deliciously torturous brush moved onto her left tit, tears of desire and frustration gathered at the corner of her eyes. She knew she was minutes away from begging. Begging to be fucked, begging to be allowed to come; begging for a warm mouth to come to her pussy, her chest, her mouth.
Her quivers turned to shakes as her stomach knotted with the build up of a fast approaching climax.
A gesture from Laura and Lee dropped the brush, causing tears of desperation to course down Jess’s cheeks. ‘Now, Miss Sanders, you have to learn to pace yourself. This is as much for our enjoyment as yours, and we are not ready to let you come yet.’
Blinking in disbelief at her superior’s words, Jess felt the tears dry against her face, as once again the brush was employed by Lee, this time along her tethered arms, her unsteady legs and her taut stomach. Concentrating hard on not pleading for more direct attention, Jess tried to ignore the growing ache between her legs, and the increasingly obvious presence of Lee’s erection.
Jess’s persistent moans turned to helpless whimpers as Mrs Peters finally broke the tension, ‘You may remove your clothes, Lee.’
The young man moved with uncaring speed and Jess gulped as she saw the neatly circumcised penis that was pointing at her hungrily, slide into the waiting rubber.
Ordered to sit up straight, Jess obeyed as the barman gratefully sank his length into Jess’s slick snatch. Their mutual sighs of relief made Mrs Peters issue a sharp sneering laugh, ‘So young and so desperate.’
Picking up the brush, the manageress began to stroke the cream bristles back over Jess’s tormented nipples, as Lee heaved against her, slapping his backside and balls against her in his urgency to come.
Jess screamed out her climax, her body rocking in shocked pent up pleasure.
As Jess slumped against the barman, Mrs Peters dropped the brush to the floor. ‘You see, Miss Sanders, some things are so much better if they are promised, but withheld for a while. If you are made to wait, you appreciate things all the more. Don’t you think?’
‘Yes, Mrs Peters.’ Jess spoke automatically through breathless lips. There really wasn’t anything else she could say…
****
eBooks
US Kindle- https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077XW59P2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660
Canada Kindle- https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B077XW59P2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1512491682&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Fifth+Floor+Kay+jaybee
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/765157
B&N – ebook – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-fifth-floor-kay-jaybee/1127595291?ean=2940154644478
Paperbacks
Happy reading everyone,
Kay xxxx
August 15, 2019
Something for the Weekend: Making Him Wait
Friday is upon us once more, so it’s time to let the mind escape into a touch of erotic fantasy with some bi-sexual shenanigans
This week I’m sharing a little from the of Making Him Wait…
…Ignoring the buzz of her mobile phone, Maddie placed the worn stub of charcoal to the side of her easel and took a step back from the girl before her.
Maddie nodded with approval as her newest model – a petite blonde – flexed the muscles she’d been keeping stock still for the previous half hour.
“Control, Freya – at least the appearance of control – is everything.” The artist reached out an affectionate hand to her muse.
Freya rocked a little on her bare feet as Maddie touched her lightly freckled cheek. “No need to look so worried, honey. You are doing brilliantly. It’s a difficult pose to hold for so long.”
“Thank you.” Blushing an endearing shade of pink, Freya lowered the hands she’d nervously clenched before her, giving her employer another chance to see the neat triangle of her semi-shaved pussy.
Maddie, her jeans and t-shirt smeared and spattered with all the mediums of her trade, did not feel the need to mention to Freya that her own knickers were sodden, nor that beneath her holster bra, her nipples were rock hard.
A further buzz from her mobile alerted Maddie to the arrival of another text message. In fact a steady string of muffled noises from her mobile, coming from the pit of her handbag, had been announcing the arrival of texts every ten minutes or so throughout the morning.
Smiling to herself, Maddie continued to disregard her phone and considered the exquisite outline of her companion’s porcelain frame. Most people came to Maddie to be drawn or painted, sometimes as a commission for a lover, husband or wife. Some, however, like Freya, came to the studio as a way of improving their self-confidence. Despite her generally shy demeanour, Freya had proved to be very good at posing as Maddie required and the artist had offered her an occasional job as a life model.
Sometimes Maddie felt she was more therapist than artist – specifically a sex therapist – as men and women alike shared their most intimate secrets while standing on the other side of her easel. Maddie’s studio certainly had the air of an erotic fantasy confessional about it. She wasn’t complaining, however. No other life would do for her now. The job satisfaction Maddie achieved from listening to the dreams and fantasies of others while she recreated them onto canvas, went hand in glove with the personal physical gratification it gave her.
Money being either plentiful or non-existent, depending on the current success of her commissions and sales, Maddie had been forced to develop an alternative form of payment for her models – a reward system for good work. Maddie could tell from the rise and fall of Freya’s chest and the glistening damp skin at the top of her thighs, that she was more than ready to be paid for today’s session.
Closing in on her model, Maddie simultaneously cupped Freya’s slick pussy and left breast with her charcoal-blackened hands, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through the younger woman’s body.
“Your progress really is outstanding, honey. Few of my models can stay as motionless as you can.” Congratulating Freya on her skill, Maddie left two dark palm prints on the girl’s tits and tapped at the inside of her legs. “Open up. I think you have deserved a treat after all your hard work.”
Gliding her palm over Freya’s mound, Maddie slipped a gentle finger into the slippery canal of the model’s frantically clutching sex, enjoying the murmured mew of contentment that escaped from her lipstick-free mouth.
Pumping gently, the artist brought Freya close to orgasm with steady increases and decreases of pressure – her own mind straying to her mobile. Maddie wondered where Theo was and what he was doing. She knew what he was thinking about. She always knew that. Theo thought about her.
Pushing her happily sex-drugged model onto an armchair, Maddie’s own arousal kicked up a notch as she bent to lick Freya’s nub, swiftly bringing her to the dawn of a shuddering release.
While continuing to take pleasure in the sweet taste of another woman on her lips, Maddie considered how she’d phrase her responses to all the messages Theo had sent and how she’d tell him precisely what and who had held up her replies.
Inhaling Freya’s climactic scent, Maddie’s hands roamed up and over the small, orgasm-jacked body, her thoughts still with Theo. His work-calloused right hand was probably on his dick at that very moment. A heady hit of power consumed Maddie – a power as intense as the climax of the woman panting hard in the chair before her.
Maddie loved making him wait…
Making Him Wait is published by the fantastic Sinful Press. You can buy it from…
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Making-Him-Wait-Erotica-discipline-ebook/dp/B078ZGKLLV
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Making-Him-Wait-Erotica-discipline-ebook/dp/B078ZGKLLV
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/making-him-wait-4
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/making-him-wait-kay-jaybee/1127821931?ean=9781910908228
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/making-him-wait/id1336576037?mt=11
Google Play Books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kay_
aybee_Making_Him_Wait?id=yZFIDwAAQBAJ
Storytel: https://www.storytel.se/books/143147-Making-Him-Wait
***
Happy reading!
Kay xx
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