Kay Jaybee's Blog, page 43
October 6, 2016
Kink on the Doorstep: Not Her Type
The inspiration for my courier connected story came from many of the tales that the various delivery men that visit my home have told me over the last fifteen years. I swear their list of kinky ponderings is non-stop!
Since writing Not Her Type I have got to thinking about all the other professions where there is an opportunity for a spot of sexy ‘hit and run.’
How many of you out there have coveted the man who’s come to service the washing machine? Fancied the plumber- standing just that little bit too close to his bent over backside while he attacks your blocked u-bend?
What would be the ultimate challenge in doorstep seduction? The window cleaner?- Bit too cliché perhaps? The guy or gal who turns up at your front door trying to flog you double glazing or convert you to a ‘definitely cheaper- honest’ electricity supplier? The Avon Lady? The fit young student earning pin money trying to get you to sign up to a monthly charity donation scheme?
Surely the ultimate challenge to end all impromptu seduction challenges would be the Jehovah’s Witness?- A step too far perhaps?? Fair enough.
Each and every one of these scenario’s can form the potential kick off for a juicy new short story. Even as I type this blog, my erotica cogs are a turning…so much material…so little time…
It is from such ponderings as these that Not Her Type was born, after hearing more erotic (and downright pornographic and frequently physically impossible), fantasies and confessions from the delivery men who have visited my home over the years with various work related packages every week. (Not including my current one I should add!)
Such is the nature of the courier’s tight schedule, that any lust he or she has the opportunity to release during the course of his or her day, will be very quickly delivered indeed.
Jenny, the customer who becomes the centre of every sexual fantasy her courier, John has, in Not Her Type, discovers very early on that no matter how much she looks forward to her lusty encounters with her fuck-me handsome lover- it’s rarely going to last more than five minutes!
…Jenny had been ready for an hour. Dressed as per his request. Black jeans, black low-cut shirt, black bra, black knickers.
A rare text from John late the night before had warned her that even compared to normal, they wouldn’t have long. But then, we never had long.
He was already speaking as he came into the house, his tone hectoring, “No time to explain. I have a stupidly large new van and company. A new assistant to train. He’s practicing parking. We’ve got two minutes until he manages to get the truck into a space. Then he’ll be knocking on the door.”
Jenny’s mouth opened to argue, to say that two minutes was impossible, but she didn’t have the chance to say anything as she was driven to her knees with the order, “Suck my cock.”
In the back of Jenny’s mind, the countdown began….
So, if you are a connoisseur of the daytime quickie- then perhaps delivery men, Avon ladies, or window cleaners are the folks for you!!
Buy links…
Happy reading everyone!!
Kay xxx
October 3, 2016
Words are Sexy: Using erotica to improve your sex life
Over the years I’ve written about the importance of communicating your desires for various websites, magazines and blogposts. It’s been a while since I shared such thoughts here, however. Time to put that right…
Everyone likes to be told that they’re beautiful or handsome.
Who wouldn’t want to hear a lover, or a potential lover, say that they could get lost in your eyes, or that you have an amazing body?
Doesn’t it feel amazing when someone’s expression alone tells you that they could stare at your chest all day, and that they dream of caressing your butt at the most inappropriate of moments?
These compliments, spoken or blatantly unspoken, can frequently be a front to hidden desires beneath.
When you tell someone, ‘I’ve been thinking about your butt all day,’ did you actually want to say, ‘I can’t stop thinking about licking your arse’, or ‘I want to spank your butt until its bright red and you’re begging for me to fuck you’, or even, ‘I can’t stop fantasizing about having anal sex with you?’
Taking the leap from making a flattering or suggestive remark to communicating your deepest sexual desires and fantasies can be a daunting or embarrassing prospect. Many couples go through their entire lives without ever being brave enough to tell each other what they’d really like to happen within their sex lives.
So, how can this barrier of blushes be breached?
Read some erotica. There is a massive array of wonderfully sexy stories available, suiting all genres, tastes, and sexual orientations. Start by reading a sexy story on your own. See what story lines work for you, find your secret fantasises in written form, and maybe discover new ones. Try reading your favourite parts of a story out to yourself; this can help you to build up your confidence, and become more relaxed about telling your lover what you’d like.
Once you’ve found what sends you into masturbation mode, then it’s time to tell your partner about it. Start by saying that you’ve found a great story that you’d really like to share with them. If you feel brave enough, read it out loud to them. Reading to someone is a sexy experience in its own right, and saying sexual words aloud can be a huge turn on.
However, if you can’t bring yourself to speak the dirty words you want to share, don’t despair. Mark the start and end of the piece you want your loved one to see, and encourage them to read it to themselves. Stay close while they’re reading, caress their skin, do something familiar that you already know they’ll enjoy- who knows what might happen next…
If you yearn to be tied and beaten, but you aren’t sure how your lover will respond to this request, start by finding erotic stories concerning light bondage and the occasional slap- then build up slowly to your true desires. (Maybe start with something like A Sticky Situation, before moving on to full on BDSM, such as The Voyeur)
Rather than be repulsed by learning what their partners secretly want, sharing erotica has been shown to help create a private environment of trust, lowered inhibitions, and a mutual sharing of ideas and desires.
Although taking the initial step towards telling your partner what you’d like in the bedroom (or anywhere for that matter) maybe daunting, research has shown that it can lead to a fuller, happier, and far more exciting sex life.
Happy reading,
Kay xx
September 28, 2016
Tasty Taster from Take Control
Today we’re in the realm of Male Domination and Female Submission…
Blurb
Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission is a collection of toe curlingly sexy tales of bondage and female submission from the pen of best selling writer Kay Jaybee. From a spankingly delicious Dinner With Tess, to a Staged public sex fantasy, an unforgettable alfresco hosing in Deluged, a kinky scientific Experiment, and the realisation of a long held threesome fantasy in The Necklace, Take Control offers five bite sized stories that will satisfy any lover quality erotica.
I’m going to tease you with a little taster today from The Experiment…
They would follow his instructions to the letter. That was what she had claimed. Still, he was suspicious. It was probably all a con, a devious way of playing on his growing obsession. But it might not be – it might be genuine – he might get to see what he longed to see…
A petite, traditionally dressed, stunningly beautiful Malaysian girl led him into a dimly lit room. The scientist dropped his briefcase next to a comfortable wing-backed armchair, behind which was a small but well-stocked bar. Suspended from the ceiling, a state of the art camcorder pointed forwards, poised and ready to record all that was to follow. Tastefully tame classical music was being piped into the room via a number of wall speakers; speakers which he hoped would reveal some far more interesting sounds in the very near future.
About a metre in front of the chair, a large picture window had been fitted neatly between that room and the next, creating both a theatre and private audience auditorium. A thick red curtain was drawn across the other side of the glass, so that as yet the voyeur could witness nothing from the space beyond.
The hostess, hovering by the bar, gestured to the various bottles of spirits with a questioning glance. He selected a whiskey and, shrugging off his jacket, waited as a triple measure of amber liquid was sloshed into a cut-glass tumbler. With the drink, the girl passed him a white envelope, on which was written The Story Thus Far.
He sat down, fumbling open the letter with hasty fingers, and his eyes devoured the words: Shortly you will see Gail and Jade. Both have been fully appraised as to your requirements. They have been placed within the neighbouring room, secured as per your instructions.
Before your arrival, again as you requested, the girls were subjected to considerable concentrated arousal to the breasts alone, and had nipple clamps applied. Both females are now desperate for further attention. We hope you enjoy the performance. Sit back, relax, and enjoy. The Malaysian girl bowed and left.
Making himself as comfortable as possible, he sat in the chair, satisfied that – so far, at least – his wishes had been carried out.
This whole thing was an experiment: an exercise to discover how much attention needed to be applied to a woman’s breasts alone before climax overtook the subject. Any resulting arousal of his own, he had convinced himself, was coincidental, and of secondary importance to the enquiry…
****
If you’d like to buy this e-book, it is available from Amazon UK, Amazon.com, and all good e-retailers. (It is also available for Kobo, Nook and on iTunes)
Happy reading!!!
Kay xx
September 26, 2016
Guest Blog by Kd Grace: Sometimes it’s good when things go pear-shaped!
This blog is special to me- and you’ll see why in a moment. I’m still over the moon that Kd Grace has managed to create a novel from a small idea I had one day while bored in a supermarket!
I will let Kd explain…
It’s such a pleasure to be on Kay Jaybee’s fabulous blog today talking about The Tutor, and crowing loudly that the novel is now up for preorder! Sharing it with Kay and her readers is even more special since she’s the person who planted the seed that inspired this full-length sizzle of a romance.
The Tutor has a very special place in my heart because of its whirlwind beginnings. It all happened last October at Smut Manchester during Kay Jaybee’s wonderfully wicked “trip to the supermarket” workshop on inspiration. We were all assigned an item from the supermarket shelf and told we’d been called over the loudspeaker to go to the stockroom. From that we were to write the beginnings of a story about what we’d find in the stockroom and what we’d do with our item once we got there. I still remember the smug little smirk on Ms. Jaybee’s face when she handed me the slip of paper that read ‘ tin of pears in heavy syrup.’ I never imagined in my wildest dreams that before the weekend was out, I’d have the seeds for an entire novel about a severely haphephobic sculptor and a writer who moonlights as a sex tutor and the tin of pears that brings them together. What can I say? The novel just had to be written. In fact, the need to get it down was so urgent that I signed up for NaNoWriMo — National Novel Writing Month in November and wrote the whole novel during that month!
After that, I finished the editing and rewriting and sent it out to the fabulous folks at Totally Bound, who snapped it up, with a print date of October 11, 2016 – almost exactly a year to the day from that fabulous workshop of Kay’s and the amazing weekend at Smut Manchester. Needless to say, there’ll be a launch party at Smut Manchester this year. The Tutor was, after all, a bit of a group effort. It just goes to show that when something is right, it’s really right. Thanks again, Kay! You can inspire me anytime!
The Tutor Blurb:
Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valentine’s, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance. When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.
AAAAAND! Here it is, the famous Pear Excerpt:
“Was this your idea or Dillon’s? Kelly asked, hoping to relax him.
“It was mine, after Andy told Dillon and he told me. I thought it was something that I …” The muscles along Lex’s jaw looked as though they were made out of iron, and a fine blush crawled up his neck tinting his ears bright pink. “I’ve never touched a woman … in that way.” He forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’ve …” the blush deepened and he avoided her gaze. “I’ve put lube on some of the sculptures – you know — down there, but I … well it isn’t the same.”
“The pears won’t be either,” she said, her heart suddenly aching at the physical isolation this man endured on a daily basis, and it wasn’t just her heart that ached, she felt his lack deep in her core. It had been easier with Andy. She had been almost flippant with him. She was sorry for that now. She spread one of the towels on the Queen Anne chair across from him and settled herself onto it so they were facing each other. “The texture will be different and with the pear there’ll be less give.” She dipped her fingers in the bowl and rubbed the heavy juice between her index finger and her thumb. “If you touch a woman, she’ll be much warmer.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be amazed at how warm and how soft she’ll be down there when she’s ready to be touched. With Andy, this,” she nodded down to the pears, “was improvisation, this was the best I could do under the circumstances, but a woman, well a woman feels like nothing you’ve ever touched before.”
He was no longer avoiding her gaze. His eyes were locked on her, and he was struggling to keep them on her face, she knew that; she understood the urge for him to drop his eyes to the place of which she spoke, the place with which she was so intimate, the place that couldn’t help but respond to the topic, to the situation, to the strange intimacy they had shared almost since the moment they’d met. “You can look, if you want,” she opened her legs so that he could see the place in between clothed in black denim, completely disguised and yet so very obvious. “And I’ll look at you too,” she nodded down to his own jeans straining to contain him already. “It’s what men and woman are naturally inclined to do when there’s a sexual attraction.”
With her heart hammering in her throat, she took one of the pear halves into the cupped palm of her left hand, then she brought it down between her spread thighs, feeling the juice of it run over her fingers and drip onto the towel as she spread her legs a little farther and held her pam to mimic the position of her vulva. “Touch it like a woman would touch it, and you’ll always get it right.” She drug her index and middle finger up from the bottom of the pear to the center and felt her own body respond in empathy. “The pear has no folds, no secret valleys, no swollen flesh to be teased open, so you’ll have to use your imagination with that.”
Lex gave a little moan soft and deep in his chest as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. “I know the anatomy,” he said. “I’ve watched porn and I’ve studied drawings. I know how it looks like it might feel. I know the response it elicits.” His tongue flicked nervously over his upper lip. “Of course that’s just acting, isn’t it?”
“Porn is about fantasy, about voyeurism, and it doesn’t matter if it’s real if it gets you off. But when it is real,” she spread her index and middle finger up the sides of the pear’s central opening, “if you’re good, if your sensitive, you’ll feel the spasms of your lover’s orgasm, even see them if you’re using your tongue; and you can feel them gripping at your cock when your inside her. If you’re paying attention.
“The clitoris,” she laughed softly, “Well with Andy I used a Ticktack, but he’s a chemistry major. He likes charts and graphs and periodic tables. You’re an artist, you live in your imagination, so you don’t need a Ticktack. Some women like the thumb stroking and circling while the other fingers work inside. Some women like to use their fingers.” She demonstrated on the pear, and Lex groaned. “It’s always best to ask and be sure.”
“What do you like?” His words were a labored rasp against the back of his throat, and Kelly found herself stunned by the question, and way more aroused than she wanted to be. He shouldn’t have asked. She should have answered. But she did.
“I like it this way.” She shifted her hips and opened a little further so he could see her thrust and scissor, circle and probe technique, and her body responded with the tight grip and release of muscle memory.
“Jesus,” he whispered moving forward on the sofa and leaning closer for a better look. “And when someone uses their tongue?”
She caught her breath in a giddy laugh. “Afraid I can’t tell you what I do since, sadly I’m not that flexible.”
“But you can tell me what you like.” His voice had gone rough.
“I like the flat of the tongue to part me and then probe me, circle my clit and then kiss and suck.” She closed her eyes, finding it difficult to meet his gaze when she spoke about something so intimate, so secret. Come to think of it, she’d never had a man actually ask her how she liked it. The few who had given a rat’s ass about her pleasure had been happy enough to let her order them about, but never quite got the hang of it.
It was the loud schussing sound that caused her to open her eyes. Lex had moved the coffee table out of the way paying no attention to the slosh of pear juice all over the towel V had spread. His eyes were locked on Kelly as he fished out his own pear half and fell to his knees in front of her. When she realized what the man was about to do she dropped the pear she’d been holding with a little gasp of surprise and scooted as far back in the chair as she could. He knelt low, holding the pear in the cup of his hand, as she had, placing it against the edge of the chair between her legs! She gave a little yelp and scrambled back in the chair still further, spreading her thighs over the rise of the chair arms to keep from touching him. He moved forward, the back of his hand so close to her crotch that she could feel the heat of it, and he lowered himself still further until his hair nearly brushed the insides of her thighs. Then, still looking up at her from his position on the floor, he began at the bottom of the open pear half and ran his tongue flat and undulating all the way up, flicking in just slightly in a little circle at the top end before he closed his lips around the apex and she could hear the slurp and suck of the sweet syrup.
“Oh! Lex! Ah!” And then she went non-verbal, holding her breath, tightening muscles deep inside her body, the only muscles she dared to move if she were to keep from touching him. She raised both arms and fisted her hands in a suicide grip around the back of the chair to keep from curling them in his hair. Her thighs trembled from her efforts to keep her legs on the chair arms and not throw them over his shoulders for leverage. She didn’t move. She didn’t breath as he licked and nuzzled and suckled until pear juice ran down his chin and onto his tee-shirt, until his face was damp and sticky, until his forehead was sheened with perspiration, and still he held her gaze as though they were locked together in each other’s orbit neither able to move without the other’s consent.
“Oh God, I’m gonna come.” She barely managed a warning when his own convulsion brought him dangerously near her body. He had stopped breathing, she was sure of it. She practically climbed the back of the chair to keep from touching him as he lost control.
Then with a tremendous gasp of oxygen, he straightened, let the pear fall from his hand onto the Aubusson carpet and looked up at her.
“I’m going to pass out.” And he did.
***
Preorder The Tutor Here:
eBook:
Print:
***
K D Grace
Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
KD has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace,Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.
Find K D Here:
Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace
***
Many thanks for another wonderful blog, Kd. I can’t wait to read The Tutor.
Happy reading everyone,
Kay x
September 22, 2016
A little something in rubber: Quick Kink Two
I thought I’d share a little something with you this weekend from my VERY kinky anthology, Quick Kink Two .
How about a helping of some good old KJB, BDSM action?
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.
Happy reading
Kay xx
September 18, 2016
Release Blitz: Out Now – Coming In Hot Boxed Set! #cominginhot #PNR #paranormal #contemporary #medical #newrelease #99c
Out Now – Coming In Hot Boxed Set! #cominginhot #PNR #paranormal #contemporary #medical #newrelease #99c
Blurb:
Get a dose of romance, STAT!
Featuring NYT, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling authors, we’re Coming In Hot with paranormal to contemporary, and sizzling to seductive bedside manners by the doctors, nurses, paramedics, and more in this boxed set.
Paramedical meets paranormal in this steamy set filled with shifters, werewolves, vampires, and more!
Buy links:
Amazon: http://hyperurl.co/CIHPNR
Nook: http://goo.gl/d60cVx
iBooks: https://goo.gl/rpPUXW
Kobo: https://goo.gl/n212yF
Don’t forget to add to your *want to read* list on Goodreads: https://goo.gl/kDTJ5L
Excerpt from On Her High Horse by Lucy Felthouse:
There was a knock at the door. Brett looked up from where he was transferring hand-written notes onto the practice’s computer system—he hadn’t yet gotten comfortable with taking the iPad out on calls. He was paranoid he’d drop it in a cow pat, or worse. “Yes, come in!”
One of the veterinary surgery’s receptionists—an efficient blonde called Natasha—sidled in, a wry expression on her face. “Hi, Brett. I’m really sorry to bother you, but there’s a woman on the phone, and she’s being, um, rather rude.”
Frowning, Brett replied, “Who is it? And why is she being rude?”
Natasha blew out a breath and shrugged. “She won’t tell me what the issue is. Won’t even tell me what animal she has. She just keeps saying she’ll only speak to a ‘trained professional.’ I don’t know who it is, either. All I know is her first name is—”
“Samantha?” Brett supplied, his shoulders slumping and eyebrows raising.
“Uh, yeah. How did you know? Oh God, I haven’t gone and insulted one of your friends or something, have I? I didn’t mean to, honestly. It’s just she’s being a bit difficult…”
“Natasha, don’t panic. She’s no friend of mine. I’ve never even met the woman. Besides, if she was one of my friends, I’d be giving her a bollocking for being rude to one of my staff, wouldn’t I? Anyway, if it’s the Samantha I think it is, then she’s being very difficult, and you’re being overly polite. Andrew warned me about her.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. Bloody typical that she’d phone while he’s away. The man barely ever takes a holiday, and now he finally has, his most awkward client is on the blower. He damn well owes me one after this.”
“If she’s a regular client, how come I’ve never spoken to her before?”
Shrugging, Brett replied, “Dunno. Maybe she’s got Andrew’s mobile number or something?”
Natasha gasped. “But he never gives out his mobile number to clients. He’s very strict about that—always asks us to take a message and if it’s urgent, pass it on to him directly.”
“Yeah…” Brett scratched his head. “He didn’t say much about her, beyond that she can be difficult. Honestly, I was a bit distracted when he mentioned it so I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention. I wish I’d asked more questions now, but I never thought I’d have the misfortune of having to deal with her.”
“You haven’t, yet.” Natasha raised her eyebrows and jerked her chin towards the phone on his desk.
“Good point.” He gave a wan smile. “Suppose I’d better find out what she wants, hadn’t I? If she’s special enough to have Andrew’s precious mobile phone number, then I ought to keep her sweet.”
“Probably wise.” Natasha left the room, closing the door behind her, but not before Brett spotted the slight smile on her face. Relieved to pass on the bitchy customer to him, no doubt.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone. “Hello, Brett Coulson speaking. How can I help?”
“Oh,” came the reply, “Brett. Ah, yes. You’re the other vet, aren’t you? Jolly good. Know what you’re talking about, do you?” The woman’s accent was posh, southern. Like she’d been to a finishing school or something.
Gritting his teeth, Brett then pasted a smile on his face, hoping it would be apparent in his tone, despite the daggers he was actually staring at her through the handset. “Yes, I most certainly do.” Should fucking do, after five years of training and the same again working in the profession. I’m not on bloody work experience here.
“But you sound so young.”
Glad she couldn’t see him, Brett rolled his eyes. Her problem obviously wasn’t an emergency, the way she was waffling on, time-wasting. “I’m almost twenty-nine, Mrs…”
“It’s Ms, actually. Samantha Hanson-Bishop here. So you’re still a baby then.”
“Is there something I can help you with, Ms Hanson-Bishop? Only I’ve a call to go out on in a few minutes.” He couldn’t help the emphasis he’d put on the Ms. It could be construed as sarcastic, but it was still a damn sight more polite than anything he really wanted to say. Would she just get to the point already?
“Yes, yes, of course. That’s why I’m telephoning. I just wanted to make sure I was speaking to someone who actually knew what they were talking about. Clearly your receptionist doesn’t know anything about animals, much less my thoroughbred horses.”
Ah, okay, that made things clearer. The stuck-up, posh bird ran a stable. Now the haughty attitude made sense—she was entitled, bored, and thought she was better than everyone else. Wanting to defend Natasha—who was, in fact, very knowledgeable about animals, it being part of her job and all—Brett had to bite his tongue. If the woman, however snobby and irritating, ran a stable of thoroughbreds, then she was no doubt bringing plenty of money into the practice. They were doing okay, but the loss of a big customer without a replacement wasn’t something they’d be able to sustain for very long. And word of mouth was very important in this game—he didn’t want her bad-mouthing him or the surgery.
Featuring:
NY Times Bestselling Author Izzy Szyn
USA Today Bestselling Author Josie Jax
USA Today Bestselling Author Elianne Adams
USA Today Bestselling Author Amy Lee Burgess
USA Today Bestselling, Award Winning Author L.B. Gilbert writing as Lucy Leroux
International, Award Winning, Bestselling, Author Gina Kincade
International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Angelica Dawson
International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Erzabet Bishop
International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author D. F. Krieger
International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Muffy Wilson
International, Award Winning, Bestselling Author Tierney O’Malley
NY Times Bestselling Author K.N. Lee
Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Lucy Felthouse
Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Red L. Jameson
Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Chanta Rand
Award Winning, Amazon Bestselling Author Rebekah R. Ganiere
International Bestselling Author Bethany Shaw
International Bestselling Author Elvira Bathory
Amazon Bestselling Author Penelope Silva
Amazon Bestselling Author Kathleen Grieve
Amazon Bestselling Author Xandra James
September 15, 2016
A Weird Way to Make a Living
After 12 years in the business, I have come to one overwhelming conclusion – this really is weird way to make a living!
For example…
In 2013, I was at the big Erotica event in London. I was stood in a large show hall surrounded by semi clad folk modelling bondage equipment, looking at the latest line in metal cock harnesses, and wondering how much head room there really was in a human kennel- and no one was batting an eyelid. At what point in my life did this become normal? And how fantastic that it was so- well, ordinary (I say this in a good way)!!
Sex is fun. An overly simplistic sentence; but so true. And there I was, surrounded by people who are dedicating their entire careers to ensuring that it stays that way- that sex gets better- that every living person has the chance to have a better erotic experience; be they straight, gay, lesbian, large, small, able bodied, disabled, and so on… No one is excluded. The playing field is open and fair, and the air feels full of openness- how sad that an industry dedicated to make people feel good and happy, is so often shut behind closed doors. Anyway…
For example…
…there I was at the ETO show 2014, eating lube flavoured ice cream with my fellow Brit Babes ice cream (I went for lemon and peach lube on mine- DELICIOUS- something I wouldn’t normally say about lube). And then I was back again this year, sipping lube flavoured cocktails…
Vodka and Lube cocktails thanks to Systems-JO!!
Now I’ve started to think about all the other things I’ve done, and all the things I’ve seen, that I’d never have experienced if I wrote any other genre but erotica., my head is full of memories- all of them extraordinary.
If I wrote horror stories, I’d never have been invited to the wonderful Sh Woman’s Store, to stand around tables of vibrators, reading passages from The Perfect Submissive or Not Her Type. I would never have been picked up by a nice young man from Vanity Studios in London (not as dodgy as it sounds) to do a photo shoot in Soho- which lead to another one the following year.
There would have been no trip to Erotica 2013, to sell my books to some of the friendliest people in the world- many of whom had forgotten to put all of their clothes on…There would be no Brit Babes, and there would be no Brit Babe team cheering us all on- unthinkable!!
I’d never have visited the ETO shows, or been nominated for an award or three- I’m still amazed I won one!
If I didn’t write erotica, perhaps I wouldn’t look at any and every object around me and automatically change it into some sort of sex toy- without even registering I’m doing it. (At the moment it’s chocolate covered coffee beans- you’ll see in time!!) Perhaps everyone I speak to wouldn’t take each innocent sentence I say as an innuendo? I certainly wouldn’t be teaching classes on how to sex up the supermarket!!
I’m as sure as I can be that I wouldn’t get to stand in a public building and spank people, as I did At Smut by the Sea in Scarborough if I wrote sci-fi!
I know for a fact that if I hadn’t spent the last dozen years in erotica my life wouldn’t be so full or so friendly. Okay, I get a few negative comments, and I could do without the occasional bit of stalker stuff, but WOW- it’s SO much fun!
It might well be a weird way to make a living- but it makes people happy. I’m not sure I’d have been able to say that if I had stuck with my very first job – working in a Welsh Hat factory….
Happy reading,
Kay xx
September 14, 2016
Anniversary Week: Sweetie taster from The Collector
This week I’m celebrating 12 years in erotica, by sharing a few tasty tasters from my archive. Today, I’m in the mood for a little liquorice…
S weets
‘Perhaps I should explain that we work in a sweet shop. We sell the old fashioned kind of sweets in jars; lemon sherbets, kola-kubes, cherry lips, dolly mixtures, alongside all the new stuff and posh boxes of chocolates.
It all happened quite quickly I guess. It was obvious from the moment I took the job that we wanted each other, but initially we held back. Work isn’t the best place after all, especially if there are only two members of staff. Anyway, as I said, it was sort of inevitable really.
So, last Thursday evening, there I was, starkers on the bed, watching at my boss who was naked, commanding, and utterly gorgeous.
I was not tied to the bed, but I wish I had been. He’d ordered me to stay still, but it was unbelievably difficult to obey as my body desperately wanted to move towards him.
My arms were folded with my hands sat beneath my head, and my legs were pushed up so that my knees pointed into the air. It was as if I was about to undergo some unpleasant medical intrusion. He’d placed a soft silk cushion under my arse to give him, as he put it, “Better visual.”
He flashed a little bag in front of my eyes, but made sure I couldn’t actually see what it contained. I frowned at his long delicate fingers, unsure of what was coming next. He just smiled.
I tried to concentrate on what he was holding, but the heat surging through my breasts from the whipping they had just received was taking most of my attention. My nipples burnt and longed for a cooling tongue to kiss them better. I had to push my head back harder into my hands to prevent myself from moving them and rubbing myself off.
At last he showed me the packet. It was a Dib-Dab; a packet of loose sherbet with a cherry flavoured lolly conveniently included. When I was a kid I loved to suck all the sherbet off the sticky lolly.
I flinched as he ripped it open. There was something about the way he was looking at me that confirmed that the agony he’d previously inflicted was simply the first course, and that seconds’ was coming up. I longed to scream out ‘Just get on with it!’, but the ball gag which he’d lodged in my mouth prevented the luxury of speech, so I just had to content myself with biting down hard onto the black rubber intrusion.
My thighs felt slick with my own juices. I tried hard not to think about the picture I must have presented. As I’ve said, I wasn’t bound, but I was gagged, and my breasts were pressed through a tight black harness, pushing them up and exposing them as an easy target for the short riding crop I had discovered he kept in the corner of his bedroom.
He pulled the lolly out of the packet and put it in his mouth. As he sucked I could feel my nipples tremble. That was what they needed. I felt unbelievably jealous of a bloody sweet!
After what felt like an eternity he pulled the damp lolly from between his lips and advanced towards me. There was no hanging about, he stuffed its red oval head into my cunt and pushed it until all but the very end of the stick had been swallowed up into my starving hole.
The width of the lolly felt amazing as it stretched me open. I could feel the air rushing in around the thin stick, making me feel empty but full at the same time. I began to shudder in response to the contradiction of sensation, but he slapped my breasts hard and I silently cried out into my rubber guardian.
‘You will not come yet.’ His voice was like gravel, and for a second I had to remind myself that I had wanted this too. He began to slide the lollypop up and down and I closed my eyes, trying for all I was worth not to climax. A task made even harder when he knelt and began to lick the mixture of pussy juice and sweet syrup from around my hole.
I was shaking, I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t going to take much to push me over the edge, even though it had been forbidden. Then he did it. He climbed astride me and sprinkled the sherbet from the Dib-Dab packet all over my tits. The cold sweetie dust tickled as it landed on my sweating skin. My hips twitched as I began to fight a losing battle with myself. As his mouth enclosed my right tit, licking up the sherbet, I groaned into silence as the sweet fizzed against his tongue and my chest. By the time he began to feast on my left side I was shaking and bucking so hard I’m surprised he wasn’t knocked off.
He took very little notice of the fact that I had disobeyed him until every single drop of the tingling dust had been consumed. Only then did his face become a picture of disgust and lust in glorious combination. I began to shiver, no longer with desire, but in response to the look in his eyes. He picked up a liquorice boot lace from the pile of supplies he’d lifted from the shop. Licking the end to dampen it a little he lashed my right nipple hard. Tears instantly sprang to my eyes as he stung me again and again.
Then, taking a handful of the laces, he began to coil them around my harnessed breasts. The black strings were cool against my hot flesh and felt heavy against my need to be sucked, caressed and kissed. The ever growing pyramids of sweets created a sticky barrier against the attention I craved. Soon only my two swollen nipples were visible, poking out from the encircled breasts…
****
You can find out what happens next by buying The Collector from-
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660
Happy reading,
Kay xx
September 13, 2016
Guest Post from Kd Grace: Preorder In The Flesh: How Two Short Stories Became a Series
I’m delighted to welcome my lovely friend, Kd Grace, to my site today, to share a little of her latest novel with us. It’s brilliant!
Over to you Kd…
It’s always such a pleasure to be over at Kay Jaybee’s place – especially when the reason I’m there is such a happy one, and one that she has cheered me on in since long before In The Flesh was ever written. And now that it’s up for preorder, with a 20th of September launch date, I’m elated to be sharing it at Ms. Jaybee’s place.
In the Flesh is a dark and sexy story that has had several incarnations in shorter forms. The story was originally about a very sexy imaginary lover who is not only very dangerous, but – you guessed it — he’s also not imaginary. The short story made its rounds in two writing groups and was well received, but never quite worked for me because I felt it needed space to grow. I couldn’t think of a better place to let it grow and see what happened than on my blog as a serial. And grow it did! In fact, it took major twists and turns I never would have expected. Not only did it became a full-length novel, but it became book 1 of a series.
In the Flesh is a blend of paranormal erotica and almost, but not quite … okay, quite possibly … horror. What I didn’t know when I began to write it as a serial for my blog is that it would become the first novel in my hush, hush, close to my heart, Medusa’s Consortium series, for which I’d already written what I thought would be book one. Well, as it turns out that first book, Buried Pleasures is actually book three. The Whole idea for the Medusa’s Consortium series was inspired by a short story I wrote several years back for Seducing the Myth, the wonderful book of myth-based erotic tales edited by Lucy Felthouse. I wrote a story called Stones speculating what might happen if Medusa were alive and living a reclusive life in Southern California. I hadn’t written the first paragraph before I knew there was SO much more to a tale of Medusa in the modern age than just a short story, and that this Medusa, my Medusa was out for revenge in a big way. I was SO right! The hair-raising ride is just beginning! You see what I did there.
But wait! There’s more! As I wrote the In the Flesh, which at the time I reckoned would only be a novella, I discovered, to my surprise, that my vampire, Alonso Darlington from my short novella, Landscapes, and his household would be playing a major role, not only in this novel, but in book two, Blind-Sided, which I didn’t even know would be happening until I was nearly finished with In The Flesh. Confused yet?
Oh you won’t see much of Medusa/ AKA Magda Gardener’s story in In The Flesh, though you will definitely feel her power and the shocking extent of her influence, and you will come to understand why the series, and the Consortium are hers. In the Flesh is Susan and Michael’s story, well part of it anyway, and it’s a doozy. If you like sexy urban fantasy/paranormal mixed with more than a few chills and thrills and plenty of sizzle and romance, then In the Flesh is the novel for you. AND! If you still prefer to read a print novel, then hold on to your hats, In the Flesh will soon be coming out in print as well!
In The Flesh Blurb:
When Susan Innes visits her friend, Annie Rivers, at Chapel House, the deconsecrated church Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend has become reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover she claims is God. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human. Even worse, he’s turned his wandering eyes on her, and he won’t be denied his prize. But her demon stalker, known only as the Guardian, is not the only non-human who wants Susan, and if she is to be free of the Guardian and save the life of both her best friend, Annie, and the fallen angel, Michael Weller, whom she’s grown to love, she might just have to give the demon what he wants – a body of his own. In order to do that she’ll need to make a deal with a vampire and bond herself inextricably to a gorgon.
Pre-order In the Flesh:
(Release date: 20th September)
In The Flesh Excerpt:
By the time I finished my breakfast and was ready to go, Annie was already fast asleep, curled in her nest at the foot of the altar. Outside, the smell of burning rubbish stung my eyes and the back of my throat.
I had little enthusiasm for the handbag sale, nor for lingering at the make-up counter. Instead I found myself in a coffee shop, laptop open researching God’s love life, which turned out to be a long history of seducing humans.
Zeus visited Danae in a shower of gold. He seduced Leda in the form of a swan. Eros came to Psyche in the dead of night forbidding her to look upon his face. Hades dragged Persephone down to the Underworld. The Virgin Mary was impregnated by the god of the Bible. In the New Testament, Christ is the bridegroom, and the church his bride. And the list went on and on. Perhaps even the indwelling of the Holy Spirit was just another way for divinity to experience flesh.
I had always loved mythology, and I’d read all these stories before. I’d just never put them together to get the whole picture. And though I was seeing an aspect of divinity that I found rather disturbing, I couldn’t help feeling there was still a piece of the puzzle missing.
I suppose I should have felt relieved. Annie wasn’t as unusual as I’d thought. God was the ultimate stalker, and he didn’t seem to be very faithful to his lovers. Just Annie’s type. I tried not to think about the implications of my experience in the bath last night. After all, it was just mythology, and I’d had a lot of wine. And there’s never any accounting for my vivid imagination. After all, I was a writer. I made my living as a teller of tales.
“What are you reading?”
I jumped at the sound of Annie’s voice and quickly minimized the page. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m feeling better.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
She leaned down and whispered next to my ear. “My lover’s God, remember? You can’t hide from him.” I barely had time to register shock before she reached down and restored the page.
“Trying to learn a little bit more about him, are we?” She smiled at the monitor and nodded knowingly. “None of this does him justice. He’s the Hound of Heaven. He’s always pursuing those he loves, and there’s no escaping. Once he’s set his eyes on you, he’ll do whatever it takes to make you his own.”
I suddenly felt cold.
The Medusa’s Consortium Series
Contrary to popular belief, Medusa is alive and well and living a quiet life in the English Lake District. But don’t let that fool you, ever since she escaped Greece and the Olympians, Medusa/AKA Magda Gardener, has been secretly kicking ass and taking names.
Medusa may be public enemy number one with the Olympians, but in the modern world, Magda Gardener never turns away someone in need. For those she helps, those who are drawn to her, those she seeks out, life will never be the same. Like the Godfather, those who owe Magda Gardener never know when she’ll call in the debt, or what will be required of them when she does. Magda is a rescuer of monsters and demons and a thief of all things dear to the Olympians. She is irreverent, powerful, rich and has her own agenda, in which the lines between right and wrong are not always clearly drawn. Even more importantly, she and her consortium are all that stand between the modern world and a new age of Olympian tyranny. Magda Gardener is a female Nick Fury in dark glasses commanding her monsters, gods and demons version of the Avengers.
But what’s at the heart of the gorgon? Can she ever really heal from the rape of a god or overcome the curse of a goddess? As her consortium of powerful misfits grows into a cohesive, if rather troubled, family, it becomes more and more difficult to keep her distance from the lives of those who belong to her. Scheming to keep one step ahead of the Olympians and wreak as much havoc upon them as possible, can Medusa find redemption and possibly even love among the monsters? The Medusa’s Consortium Series is Magda Gardener’s story and the stories of those drawn to her.
***
About K D Grace
Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.
KD has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace,Sweetmeats Press and others.
K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.
Find K D Here:
Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace
***
Many thanks for another wonderful blog, Kd.
Happy reading everyone,
Kay x
September 12, 2016
Anniversary Week: Tasty Taster from Tied to the Kitchen Sink
Today I thought I’d conclude on my 12th anniversary celebration by sharing a little of my BDSM short story collection, Tied to the Kitchen Sink.
BLURB- Will can hardly believe his eyes when he receives the ultimate in birthday gifts. Karen, the girl of his fantasies, has been left tied to his kitchen sinks’ taps, ready to be played with exactly as he chooses. Meanwhile, Becky is having a spank filled first day in her new job, and a BDSM curious male allows himself to be lured into a dominatrix’s layer, by the tempting lyrics of a truly bad poem. Whether bound in ropes or handcuffs, as they are shackled to the bed, kitchen sink, or within the confines of a fetishists supply cupboard, the willing victims of Tied to the Kitchen Sinks’ kinky S&M and BDSM action, find their darkest and sexiest dreams coming true.
One of the elements of writing erotica that I enjoy the most is to take random mundane things, such as hairbrushes, books, wooden spoons, chairs, or cardboard boxes, and give them far more interesting uses than the one they were designed for. With the three short stories tucked within the e-pages of my anthology, Tied to the Kitchen Sink, I had particular fun playing with this idea.
The use of a kitchen sink in the first (and title) story is far more interesting than just for washing up in! And in the final story, The Bad Poet, the implications hidden within a poorly written poem are played out over a small table and a bed that holds far more than sheets, pillows and a duvet!
It was with the middle story, Becky, which takes place in a very unusual office, where even the most minor mistake is punished by the BDSM obsessed boss and his secretary, Miss Harriet, that I had the most fun. Not only did I completely corrupt the use of blotting paper (no, I’m not going to tell you how!), but I totally rethought the type of items that might be found in an office stationery cupboard…
…It is an unusual cupboard. From floor to ceiling in height, it has an increased depth hidden behind its grey metal doors. The shelves that surrounded the walls are set well back so that at least two people could occupy the remaining space with the doors closed. On every shelf there was a collection of instruments; canes, whips, paddles, nipple clamps. There was all the necessary material to keep a correction freak going for years; ribbons, ropes, cuffs, chains, gags. The more you looked the more your heart froze and your eyes widened. Becky looked. Her face revealed nothing.
Miss Harriet had silently come out of her office. Without a word she stood behind Becky and helped her off with her remaining clothes. She was so beautiful. I realised I hadn’t really looked at Becky properly before. I already wanted to touch; I began to imagine her beating my breasts with a short stick, before soothing them with her tongue.
I came back to reality. Such feelings must not be displayed here. Becky was now just inside the cupboard doors, facing her audience. She seemed to shine. How had she got to this point so quickly? It had taken me many beatings before I had learnt to enjoy it, and even after nearly eighteen months I could never be so open about it. I still have the shame. Maybe I need it.
Becky stared through us as she looked straight ahead. Miss Harriet had taken one of her slim wrists and was tying it to a conveniently placed hook on one of the shelves with a silk cord. Then the other wrist was secured, then the ankles, and finally, a thin silver collar was snapped securely around her neck, its long leather lead dangling provocatively between her breasts.
Miss Harriet stepped out of the cupboard and looked to her boss for approval. He nodded. I could clearly see, when I dared to glance, that his dick was straining against his suit trousers. They shut the doors of the cupboard and we all heard Becky gasp. She had expected pain, arousal. They had given her nothing…
****
If you fancy discovering what that blotting paper was used for, just how awful my poetry can be, and exactly how the kitchen sink was misused, you can buy Tied to the Kitchen Sink at Amazon UK, Amazon.com, and all good e-retailers.
Happy reading!
Kay xx
Kay Jaybee's Blog
- Kay Jaybee's profile
- 61 followers
