Kay Jaybee's Blog, page 60

It’s Lucy Felthouse’s Birthday Bash!- GIVEAWAY CELEBRATION

Lucy Felthouse’s Birthday Bash! @cw1985 #erotica #romance #giveaway #sale #99c

Lucy Felthouse is having a month-long celebration for her birthday, and she wants you to get involved!

She’s giving away presents…

For the whole month, her erotic short story anthology, Multi-Orgasmic, will be just $0.99/99p in eBook format! The links are below for you to grab your copy:

Amazon UK Amazon US Amazon AU Amazon CA All Romance eBooks Barnes & Noble iBooks UK iBooks US Kobo Smashwords

And secondly, she and some of her friends are running a huge giveaway at her website! The giveaway is also running for the whole month, and one lucky winner will get gift cards and a whole bunch of eBooks. So be sure to head over to Lucy’s site and make your entries:

http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/?p=12760

Enjoy the celebrations!

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

***

Happy Birthday Lucy!

Good Luck everyone!

Kay xx

Waiting for the Courier to Call…

I have a confession. I am dreadful at waiting for things. Most of all, I hate waiting in for couriers, postmen, workmen etc. I loathe how my life has to be fitted into their time frame-. The words, ‘We will call between 9am and 6pm’, drive me nuts! As if I don’t have a life to be getting on with!!

This is why I am so grateful to the courier boys who regularly bring work related deliveries to my home- for in return for the occasional top up of their tea flasks, and the use of the bathroom, they always call me and tell me when they are heading to my home, so that I can get out and about and on with my life. Plus, they pass on as many story ideas as their naughty little minds can think of! They are my muses, and they never let me down! Without them, there would be no Not Her Type at all!

Blurb-

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

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

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

The kindness of my own little troop of delivery men however, doesn’t mean I am not still at the mercy of the couriers I don’t know (believe it or not, I don’t them all!!). Having to wait, trapped inside my home, not being able to concentrate on anything I am doing properly in case I have to stop and sort out whatever is being delivered, a feeling of cabin fever usually grips me within an hour. The frustration of my own inability to settle to a job drives me nuts.

I drew upon this feeling of frustration- the annoyance of constant waiting- when I came to describe Jenny’s feels as she sits at home trying, and often failing to work, hoping that one o’clock on Tuesday afternoon will come around quicker, so that her lover, John will arrive. This frustration flows into the rest of her week, as she continually hopes he’ll turn up unexpectedly on a different day.

It is a while before Jenny realises that John is just as frustrated with the weekly gaps between their meetings as she is, and that he looks forward to seeing her as much as she does him…

At the sound of a van being parked in the driveway, Jenny flung open the front door, her heart thumping against her ribcage, her palms dotting with perspiration. Striding quickly from his vehicle toward his customer, John stepped into the narrow hallway; the expression on his face spoke volumes, reassuring Jenny that this, whatever it was, wasn’t over yet.

Before either of them had spoken a word they were rolling on the living room floor, speed being of the essence. Mouths glued together, their hands, legs, and tongues were a tangled mess, everywhere at once. Jenny’s psyche swam with a heady mixture of sensations, fuelled by the never ending surprise at how much lust she felt toward her visitor, and how much desire he seemed to feel toward her in return.

Taking her shirt from Jenny’s shoulders, freeing her luscious breasts from their delicate cream bra, he sighed, and suddenly Jenny realized that he had been looking forward to this as much as she had. Up until now, she had convinced herself that he didn’t think about her over the course of the week. It was like a mantra of self preservation in her head that she repeated over and over: I must remember I’m just convenient to him. We simply use each other for sex.

Roughly pulling at each other’s clothes, they were soon totally naked. Stepping away, Jenny gazed hungrily at him. He is just so yummy, so sexy, so… This was the first time she’d seen him completely nude. Previously, in their haste, trousers and boxers had remained around ankles, shoes and socks had been simply ignored. It was a minute frozen in time, as she examined him and he examined her; their appreciation was obviously mutual.

Drawing on a condom, John lowered Jenny back against the carpet, lying above her so his hard dick nudged at her skin, tantalizingly close to her clit, sending mini shocks of expectant electricity through her body…

***

When I wait in for parcels that I’m expecting, for the boiler to be serviced, for the plumber to arrive etc, I try so hard to relax- but I am hopeless. I like to be out of the house. I write best in my local café, and if I can’t get there I am a nightmare of unproductiveness! Thank goodness for my well trained couriers!!!

If you want to read more from my courier kink, then you can buy it from all good book and e-retailers including-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184

http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184

***

Happy reading,

Kay xx

Excerpt from In Expert Hands by Lily Harlem

Today I’m issuing a ‘sit down to read’ warning!! This extract from Lily Harlem’s In Expert Hands is HOT!

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Imogen groaned and pressed her palms over his knuckles. She’d been on the edge for what felt like hours and now she needed more, so much more. “I agree, it’s been a long day.”

“I’m not talking about today.” He kissed up her neck, to the shell of her ear.

“You’re not?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for this for months. Waiting to get my hands on you, touch you, learn everything about you.”

She shut her eyes and let those words settle. Damn, it was exactly how she felt too. “Kane.”

“Yes?”

“Fuck me.”

He chuckled and grazed his teeth over her ear lobe. “I always knew there was a bad girl in there.”

“Yes, well, I think you’ve tempted her out to play.” Her voice was breathy.

Suddenly he spun her to face him.

She gasped. Her chest mashed against his shirt and his cock strained at her belly as he pulled her close.

“Be careful, baby, you’re playing with a Dom.” He rammed his mouth down on hers. His tongue probed between her lips, and as he slanted his head to get a better angle it went deeper, sweeping into her mouth.

Imogen clung to his shoulders and gave as good as she got. She’d been waiting so long for this kiss. This hot, hard, desperate kiss with Kane. The man of her fantasies, the man who was now holding her as if he would never let go.

He stooped and cupped her ass.

Imogen was lifted into the air. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms about his neck. She clung to him. Their kiss didn’t break as he strode toward her bedroom.

The thin strip of material covering her pussy was damp and pressing onto Kane’s clothing. She wanted him naked. So many times she’d imagined his bare torso, and now here she was with barely a stitch on and he was fully dressed. She reached for the top fastened button on his shirt and one handidly undid it. Time to rectify the situation.

He kept on walking as she undid the next and the next. Once in the bedroom, he tipped her onto the bed. He hovered over her, trapped by her legs still curled about his waist. She pulled at the material on his shirt and yanked it from the waistband of his trousers. With another tug she had it up his back and sliding over his head.

Finally she had a chance to admire Kane’s body. Even though the room was in semi-darkness, she could see that his skin was tanned and his pecs and abs defined. He had a good coating of body hair, which she’d expect as he was so dark and his facial stubble so thick. What she hadn’t expected were three small tattoos just below his right collarbone—small stars, like the ones on his jacket at the club.

She slid her hands over him, caught his nipples beneath her fingers then smoothed round to his shoulders.

He released a small moan. “Imogen.”

“Mmm?”

“While I still have some rational thought in my head, I should ask…” He paused and looked down at her breasts.

“What?”

“Should I? Do I need to wear a condom?” He glanced back up at her face. “I’m clean.”

It hadn’t been what she’d been expecting him to ask. She let her legs slip from the tight grip she had on his waist. “I er…no. I had full check a few months ago.”

“And…” He pressed his groin against her pussy and the hard length of his cock rubbed over her panties. “Are we in danger of making any little Kane and Imogens?” His lips twitched, as if he were holding in a smile.

She caught her breath. “No, no that’s covered. Pill.” But damn, the thought of having his babies…

“In that case, we should get this show on the road.”

“Yes, take the bull by the horns,” she added.

“Excellent analogy.” He dropped his head and kissed her. As he did so, he manoeuvred them both up the bed until her head was on the pillow.

Imogen ran her hands over his buttocks, touching him through his trousers. Damn, why was he still wearing clothes? “Take these off,” she said. “Now.”

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you,” he said, ducking and taking her right nipple into his mouth. He massaged her other breast, tweaking and teasing, scooping the flesh into his palm.

Imogen shut her eyes and ran her hands over his hair. So many times she’d dreamed of touching him, having him touch her, and now it was happening.

He spread his kisses downward, over her navel and to her lower abdomen, his hands spanning her waist, his thumbs stroking her skin.

She fisted the sheet and watched as he kissed her mound over her panties. He lingered and breathed deep, as though taking in her aroused scent.

“Kane…”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, slipping his fingers into the elastic of her underwear. “Or how difficult this is for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck. I just want to fuck. Take you to places you haven’t been before.”

“So do it. Take me.”

He shut his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “Give me strength.” He pulled at her knickers exposing her thin strip of pubic hair and her pussy.

He moved quickly and efficiently, tugged them over her feet then stood from the bed.

He loomed large through the shadows. He was breathing fast, his wide shoulders shifting up and down. He reached for his belt buckle and undid it, slowly drawing the leather through the loops.

She swallowed and watched it slide free.

He twisted the buckle end around his fist, twice.

Imogen stared at the leather held tight in his hand and the dangling strip that hung down past his knee. Damn, that looked like a pretty good flogging implement.

Is that what he’s going to do?

She clenched her buttocks. Butterflies of nerves alighted in her stomach. He’d said vanilla—had he changed his mind? Was he going to make her ass red and sore then fuck her?

He was staring at her, just staring at her.

She felt sacrificial, vulnerable…she felt like his.

“Damn it,” he muttered, dropping the belt suddenly. He undid his fly and his trousers loosened. He pushed them off then slipped his black boxer briefs down his legs.

Imogen wished the lights in the room were on, that she had more than just the glow from the New York skyline. She wanted to see him, all of him.

He stepped to the side of the bed, and she saw his cock in silhouette, jutting up and out from a mass of groin hair.

Fuck, the guy was big, but again, she’d expected that.

As if guessing her thoughts about light, he flicked on the side lamp. A warm radiance filled the room.

“I need to see you,” he said, climbing onto the bed next to her. “Every bit of you.”

Imogen nodded and reached for him. She dragged his warm body close and breathed in the scent of his skin.

He kissed her, his cock nudging against her hip as he stroked her upper body. “I need to know,” he murmured, “what you liked and didn’t like at the club.”

“Is this business talk?” She pulled back and traced her finger over his jawline. “You want to know if I liked the color of the walls?”

“No,” he growled. “I want to know what turned you on. Made you wet…” His caress traveled to her pussy. “Here.” He dipped his finger between her lips and pressed her clit, just lightly.

“Mmm…” Imogen said, “that turns me on.”

“I mean the spanking you saw. How did that make you feel?” he spoke onto her cheek then kissed up to her temple.

“Hot, sexy, I…liked it.”

He eased through her pussy and found her entrance.

Imogen spread her legs wider, wanting to feel him there, needing penetration. “Oh…” she said on a sigh. “Yes…more…”

“Talk and I’ll give you more.”

Talk, yes, she could do that. “I liked watching the flogging, the woman on the bench, that turned me on. Seeing her strapped down, fucked like that.”

“At the club you said but. I asked if you’d like to be that woman and you said yes but…” He smoothed around her pussy, teasing by not going near her clit or inside her.

“But.” Fuck, she struggled to remember now. Kane touching her was pretty distracting. She shifted her hips, hoping for more.

“What was the but…?” he asked against her ear. “Tell me, but what?”

Ah, now she recalled the words that had been in her head. “But, but I wanted it to be you, Kane, not Master Zen behind me, flogging me, fucking me. I would only do that with you.”

“Oh, perfect answer.” He pushed into her—two long, firm fingers.

Imogen moaned and clenched her internal muscles around the invasion.

“Jesus, you’re so hot and tight,” he said, propping onto his elbow and looking down at her.

“And you’ve got me ready to beg for it,” she managed, reaching for his cock. It was time to get serious.

“Ah, ah, ah…” He shifted away and gave a devilish grin. “Not yet, you must tell me more.”

“About what?” She pouted.

“The club.” He withdrew from her pussy then pushed back in, a slow finger fuck.

Imogen gripped his forearm and felt his muscles tense beneath the skin as he moved. Damn, the guy was hot, a tease for sure, but really hot.

“Tell me about the cross,” he said. “Would you like to be tied to that with me paddling your sexy ass until it’s red and sore?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d try it.” Just the thought sent more moisture to her pussy.

The heel of his hand connected with her clit and produced the dense pressure she’d been craving.

She moaned and clutched him tighter.

“And the butt plug?” he said, “Have you ever tried one?”

“No…never.”

He set up a steady rhythm, in and out of her pussy, riding over her clit. An orgasm was buried deep, but his ministrations were tempting it to the surface. She groaned and squirmed; the soft, moist sounds of him easing into her dampness turned her on all the more.

“So you’re an anal virgin?” he whispered.

“Er, yes, I suppose so.” She’d never really thought about anal sex. Never been with anyone who’d suggested trying it.

“How delicious,” he whispered. “To have all that pleasure to come.”

“I—”

“What about bondage?” he asked, upping the pace of his hand.

“Oh, God.” Imogen tensed her thighs and closed her eyes. He was getting it just right, mounting up the pressure.

“Imogen,” he said sternly. “Bondage. You ever been tied up?”

“Er no, I mean, yes, once, with a scarf, messing about…not like that…” She paused. An orgasm was approaching.

“Not like what?”

“So seriously, ropes, benches… ah…fuck, I’m going to…”

“You’ve never been strapped down with ropes and handcuffs.”

“No, no… I, God, please, I’m coming…”

“Yes, you may come, come now.” He ratcheted it up a level, fingering her G-spot and rubbing her clit. “Come, baby. I need to see you come.”

“I’m coming now.” She opened her eyes and stared up at him.

He was looking at her with wild intensity, his shoulder shifting as he pumped his fingers into her hard and fast.

Her abdomen tensed and she curled forward, pressing onto him. She gasped as release overtook her. She dug her fingernails into his forearm as pleasure shot from her pussy. Her skin tingled, her cunt spasmed. Still he kept on dragging out her bliss.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said, “I knew you would be.”

“Oh… Kane…” She pushed at his hand—it was so much, too much. “That’s it, please. I need to catch…my breath.”

He slipped his hand from her and she flopped backward and drew her legs together. Aftershocks rippled through her pussy and she moaned with each one.

He caught her face in his damp hand and kissed her, his stubble catching on her chin.

After a moment she pulled back. “You play dirty,” she said, smiling.

“What? Me?” He tweaked her right nipple and drew it to a point.

“Yes you, Mr Ward.”

He smiled. “I just have ways and means of getting what I want.”

“And you wanted to find out about my sexual experience to date.”

“I’ve only just scratched the surface of what I want to find out about you, and only just started on the experiences I want to give you.” He leaned down and took her nipple between his teeth. He bit gently then tugged, pulling it to a long, stretched point.

Imogen let out a juddering sigh; the discomfort held dark pleasure. She wanted him to stop but wanted more.

Kane released her nipple then applied the same treatment to the other one.

Again she tensed at the pain, but then relaxed into it, let it spread over her breast.

He stopped and a slow smile tugged his lips wide. “It’s time to fuck,” he said.

“Yes.” Her heart was beating wildly—she was desperate to feel him inside her.

She reached for him as he slid over her, his body weight pressing into her slightly. He was all she could see, smell, feel. Had she ever been so overtaken by a man before?

His cock nudged up against her entrance and she spread her legs wider.

“I want you to come again,” he said, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “I want to feel you come around my dick.”

***

Lily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning, multi-published author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Xcite, Ellora’s Cave and Sweetmeats Press. Her Hot Ice series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.

Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass Knot,  In Expert Hands and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release.

Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best Seller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Box Set available exclusively on Amazon – The Novice, The Player and The Vixen – and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel ‘every woman should read’.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem

Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LilyHarlemAuthor

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk

BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk

Hockey Romance http://www.hockeyromance.com

Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html

Hot Ice https://www.facebook.com/hoticeseries

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

 ***

Many thanks for sharing such a hot read Lily!

Happy reading,

Kay x

 

 

Sunshine, scenery, and sitting- but not writing…

Anyone who follows this blog will know that I am something of a workaholic, so the idea of having a whole week off isn’t something that comes easily. However, I am always prepared for the ’empty finger’ syndrome that assails me during my annual break.

Rather like a smoker who misses a cigarette, my fingers miss the roll of a pen between them to the extent that I become physically twitchy and grumpy. So, if you see me during the second week of the school holidays in some relaxing location, all decked out in summer clothing, but holding a ballpoint pen without having something to write on, then you’ll know I’m in the stages of writer come-down.

This year we took our first trip to the Algarve. Having reserved a beautiful villa on the outskirts of Villamora, we were all set for a week of sun, scenery, and sitting by our own swimming pool doing very little slowly.

It was the private pool which was the cause of most excitement with my children, and as we sat in Exeter airport on 1st August, that was the chief topic of conversation- the conclusion of which was that as soon as we arrived, we’d all have an evening swim. However…

First of all the plane was delayed an hour, then another hour, and then, much to the relief of all, and after more games of Rummy than I’d planned to play during the entire holiday, we were away to board the plane. After another wait, we were off to find the start of the runway. The engine flared, and then…back to the airport we went!

Moments later the captain announced- and I will never forget this, for it was like a scene from The IT Crowd – “I do apologise Ladies and Gentlemen, but I have a computer fault in the cockpit, I’m going to have to turn it off and on again.”

Seriously!! That is honestly what happened. He was fixing his plane in the same way I fix my laptop when it is having a teenage moment of non-compliance!!

This worked- and after refuelling- off we all went – none of us filled with a great deal of confidence in the craft in which we sat!

As you can imagine, by the time we got to Portugal it was almost dark. My the time we picked up our hire car from the worlds slowest and most inept car hire firm it was very dark, and more poor husband had to get to grips with a new car, and driving on the wrong side of the road under poor lamp light. Dr Jaybee was a star however, and we got to our villa only an hour later- to find that there was no outside lighting, and that we were locked out of our villa! As you can imagine, my pen was in full twirl mode by this time!!

It was thanks to a very friendly Portuguese neighbour and her cleaner that we got into our temporary home- starving, and ready to crash out. There was nothing to eat or drink in the house- nothing- we had intended to shop on arrival- but of course all the shops etc were closed. Can you imagine? Me in a house with not even a coffee bean in it!!

Lets just say, that the coffee I drank the following morning, at the café we got to VERY early in the morning, didn’t even touch the sides. After that start, nothing else could go wrong- and we decided to put it all behind us and just enjoy…

And how could we not enjoy this beautiful place?

From the calm of our villa, to the bustle of Villamora marina, to the stunning panorama of the coast, the searing heat (factor 50 simply was not strong enough), the majesty of Silves Moorish castle, and the total joy and fun of meeting my fellow Brit Babe, and wonderful friend, Tabitha Rayne and her family, who were on holiday nearby, to the splashingly wet fun of the local waterpark, and last of all, the pure peace of just sitting and lunching in a world where I didn’t have to cook….it was heaven- and by day two, I had dropped my pen…

 

This does not been I’d stopped soaking in ideas for stories however. Always the story hungry voyeur, I was watching at all times.

I took in the family on the plane that was made up of a new couple which obviously consisted of two wealthy middle aged people who had to ‘look right,’ and their combined children from previous marriages- two of which were of the Nickelodeon mould of extreme pretention and ‘me me me-ness’ which made me hope that the sex was worth it…

The waiters who smiled one way for some customers, and in another way for those who they obviously hoped would smile back…

The way the sunlight lit the walls to create shadows that could hide all manner of things….and much much more…

Well my friends, I must leave you know and get on with some work- because although I loved every minute of my trip away, I’m back now- and the words await, and my fingers are itching….

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

 

 

Holiday Read: Kink Perfect Submissive Style

I’m off for my annual holiday today, so I thought I’d leave you with a little something to read  from the first of the books erotica series, The Perfect Submissive Trilogy!!

I have been writing erotica for almost eleven years now, and over that time I have built up something of a reputation for penning tales of the S&M and BDSM persuasion. Never has this reputation been more deserved than with Book One of the trilogy The Perfect Submissive, which I have to confess, definitely falls into the heavier side of erotica. In other words, it is pretty full on!

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

When Mrs Peters, the mistress of the hotels exclusive entertainment facility, meets the new booking clerk, Jess Sanders, she instantly recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education.

Under the tutelage of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with her unexpected training schedule, the increasingly erotic chill she experiences each time she survives a new level of correction, and a truly sexy exercise routine.

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

Making a living out of writing sex scenes is great fun whichever way you look at it. For me however, it is the kinkier scenes that are the most interesting and attractive to both read and create.  To be able to invent interesting and unusual- yet believable (if somewhat muscle stretching), ways to provide pleasure is a challenge I really enjoy. Taking everyday objects and turning them into instruments of eroticism- through either direct pleasure, or through pleasure via desired pain, is a wonderful way to spend my days! For example, why just use a paintbrush to paint with?

In the following extract, Miss Jess Sanders has been working at the Fables for a few days now, and has been introduced to the Hotels 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…

****

If you fancy delving in to the world of Mrs Peters and discovering how Jess copes with her submissive education, The Perfect Submissive is available in paperback, and as an eBook from all good retailers, including-

AmazonUK-http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Perfect-Submissive-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908262788/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1358716163&sr=8-1

Amazon.com-http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Submissive-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908262788/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1358717314&sr=1-1&keywords=perfect+submissive

Thanks again for popping by today. I’ll be back from my holidays on 10th August – see you then.

Don’t forget the story continues after The Perfect Submissive with The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, and then the novella length extra tale, The New Room…

 

Happy Reading,

Kayxx

KJB’s Tip Time: Noted

Virtually every desk in the land has a pad of Post- It (Sticky) Notes hidden on it somewhere.

Why not put them to good use this weekend, and blaze a trail of erotic intentions throughout your home?

You could leave a note just inside the front door for your partner to find when they get in from work. Whether romantic, lust fuelled, or both, you could invite your lover to come and find you in a certain room, leaving notes along the route they need to take to reach you.

Perhaps each fresh note could issue an instruction, to take off an item of clothing perhaps?

You could be waiting for your lover beneath a hot shower, on the sofa, in bed, or in the shed at the bottom of the garden…the possibilities and commands you could issue on those innocent little pads of sticky paper are endless.

Let your imagination run riot…

Enjoy your weekend,

Kay xx

A Teaser from Lucy Felthouse: Native Tongue

Today my lovely Brit Babes friend, Lucy Felthouse, is here to share a little bit from  her latest tale…

Here’s a teaser from my M/M erotic romance novella, Native Tongue. It’s the follow up to Desert Heat, which I never intended to write a sequel for, but readers asked, so I did! And I’m glad I did—I loved spending more time with these boys and exploring what happened to them and their relationship when their setting utterly changed. This is an excerpt from early on in the book, and already starts to explore how Wilkes and Balkhi feel about being in London, rather than Afghanistan.

Excerpt:

When the door had been closed behind them, there were a couple more seconds where they didn’t speak. Wilkes took the opportunity to put his bag down, then turned to Balkhi.

“Hi,” he said, taking a step closer.

“Hello.”

“Thank fuck you live alone.” At that, Wilkes fully closed the gap between them, put his hands on Balkhi’s shoulders and pushed him roughly against the door.

Letting out a squeak of surprise, Balkhi’s eyes widened.

Wilkes didn’t stop to look into them. Instead, he moulded his body against his lover’s, cupped his face and moved in for a kiss. The first kiss, the first physical contact of any kind that they’d had in weeks, and it was obvious how much they both needed it. Balkhi’s mouth opened immediately to admit Wilkes’ tongue, and he wallowed in all the emotions coursing through him; lust, need, relief… Delicious sensations followed; the scratch of Balkhi’s goatee against Wilkes’ clean-shaven face, the heat of Balkhi’s mouth, the swirl and thrust of his tongue, the press of his erection against Wilkes’ own.

Fucking hell, I’ve missed this.

It occurred to him that really, he hadn’t missed it per se, because the two of them had never had it quite like this before. Always, without exception, they’d been worried about being discovered. They’d never had true privacy, never had the luxury of being together without looking over their shoulders, or at the very least, being conscious of making too much noise. God, this was almost going to be like their first time all over again. They’d be able to let go completely. Wilkes had a feeling it was going to be utterly mind-blowing.

Despite this, he was determined not to rush things. Yes, he wanted nothing more than for the two of them to get naked and horizontal, then hot and sweaty, but he also wanted for them to take their time. To tease, to torment, to explore each other’s bodies in minute detail. Technically, they’d been having sex for months, but certainly not as frequently as they’d have liked, and the vast majority of the times they’d been together had been snatched, rushed moments. This time, it would be different.

Enjoying their smouldering kiss for a little while longer, Wilkes basked in the anticipation of what was to come. His cock felt fit to burst, but he tried to put it out of his mind. They had two whole days to enjoy each other—that was lots and lots of hours, though it would never be enough. He’d brought plenty of condoms and lube with him, too.

The possibilities were endless. He grinned against Balkhi’s mouth.

Balkhi pulled away, a quizzical expression on his face. “What are you smiling at, Hugh?”

Raising his eyebrows, Wilkes replied, “You really have to ask? I’m here, you’re here. More importantly, no one else is here. We’re together, we have privacy for the first time ever, and I’ve really fucking missed you! Really really missed you.” That last part was growled more than spoken, and Wilkes was gratified when Balkhi gulped, then gave a shy smile.

“I have missed you, too. It seems like such a long time since we last saw each other.”

“It has been quite a long time. But that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m hoping now you’re here and settled that we can see each other a lot more often. We’ll figure all that out later.” He took a couple of steps back and raked his gaze up and down Balkhi’s body. “For now, can I just say I’m liking the outfit? It’s the first time I’ve seen you dressed like that, and I like it….”

Blurb:

They may be back on British soil, but the battle isn’t over.

When Captain Hugh Wilkes fell for his Afghan interpreter, Rustam Balkhi, he always knew things would never be easy. After months of complete secrecy, their return to England should have spelt an end to the sneaking around and the insane risks. But it seems there are many obstacles for them to overcome before they can truly be happy together. Can they get past those obstacles, or is this one battle too many for their fledgling relationship?

Author’s note: Although this story does work as a standalone tale, it’s recommended that you read the first instalment of the characters’ journey first—Desert Heat, which is available from all good retailers.

Buy links:

http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/native-tongue/

Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 ***

Thanks Lucy!

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

Guest Post from Peter Birch: The Big, Bad Book of Spanking Positions

Today I have a brilliant blog for you- if you’re a fan of spanking you are going to love this! However, if you are under 18, or if you are adverse to seeing beautiful women being spanked, then this is not the blog for you! You have been warned!!

Over to you Peter…

Peter Birch on The Big, Bad Book of Spanking Positions

It took me a while to decide how to open this blog. The world of erotic writing has moved on so far and so fast in the last year or two that the chances are that nobody reading this has the faintest idea who I am. Fortunately the author page from the book I want to write about says it all, complete with a picture of me doing my favourite thing and guaranteed to pique the interest of those who might enjoy my work while, hopefully, making those who won’t depart with their noses tilted up at a suitable prim angle.

 

Having got that over with I can now move on to the question Kay asked me: what made me write The Big, Bad Book of Spanking Positions? The answer is that it was a wonderful way to combine my love of spanking and photography with my career as a writer, or in other words it’s a piece of unabashed self-indulgence.

I’m an eroticist who writes rather than the other way around. Writing has always been important to me and I love to fill my books with distinctive characters and compelling plots, especially for my Aishling Morgan novels. I also like to think that I can at least string a sentence together, but my background is the world of fetish parties, curious pleasures and above all, spanking. I make no excuse for this and I have never set down so much as a single word in the hope of appealing to the mass market. Rather to my surprise there seem to be enough people around who share my tastes to make my writing commercially viable.

Unfortunately, even in the heyday of Nexus books, when I was producing ten novels a year, I could never persuade a publisher to allow me to include illustrations. All that changed with the arrival of the wonderful Accent Press, who commissioned an illustrated guide to all things kinky. That included a section on spanking with a text box listing nine popular positions. Nine isn’t very many though, and I was left feeling that I hadn’t done justice to the subject.

At the time I was also writing articles for Forum Magazine and its sister publications. I suggested a light-hearted article on spanking positions, listing the top 20 as if from a music chart. They liked the idea and agreed to include my own photographs, so I was left with no choice but to set up a photo shoot. I like my spanking to be done for a reason, so I dressed two beautiful models in riding gear and took the pictures in the corner of a studio done up as an improbably clean stables. Here’s one of the pictures from that day, position No 19, the Open Bailey, so named because it was the favourite position of Lucy Bailey, queen of the British spanking scene back in the ‘90s.

When I did the Forum shoot I tried to get the different positions in their real order of popularity, judging by how often they were shown or mentioned in internet search results. To get a top 20 a lot of positions had to be left out, and by the time the article was published I had a list of over thirty different positions and the whole thing was beginning to get a bit obsessive. There’s a lot to be said for obsession, especially when it comes to kinky sex, so instead of telling myself to calm down I let the project grow. A commission to write an article on spanking aftercare allowed me to set up a second shoot featuring models Stacey and Stephanie Howitt, who tried out nearly forty different positions before so much as a dab of cold cream was applied to a smarting bottom cheek.

After that there was no turning back. The girls were lovely and had great fun on the shoot, adding their own suggestions and clever details, but we’d been unable to use our original venue and the Torquay B&B we’d hired as a substitute wasn’t the ideal background. Besides, the number of positions was creeping ever higher, to fifty, then sixty, with friends suggesting pet favourites and subtle variations. I’d also realised that some positions needed three people, one of them strong enough to hold another clear of the ground for the spanking.

I was now determined to do the book and I knew what I wanted to call it, but I didn’t want to do another shoot until I’d found a suitable studio and the perfect models. My Domina came easily, Leia-Ann Woods, whose cool, stern beauty and wealth of experience made her ideal, while we’d been friends for years and worked together on several projects. She was also well used to being on the receiving end and knew all about my obsession with spanking positions, having obliged with one of many minor test shoots. Here she is, Kissing the Gunner’s Daughter only with a tree trunk in place of a cannon.

It took a lot longer to find the right girl to be on the receiving end, but one glance at Chloe “Toy” Benson and my mind was made up. Not only was she the perfect English rose, but her petite figure and playful, innocent manner made her the ideal foil for Leia-Ann. The only question was whether she would accept a shoot that involved being spanked in several dozen different positions, many of them extremely revealing, and over a period of four hours. She accepted without hesitation and proved even better than I had hoped, not only beautiful but wonderfully expressive.

The third member of my team was Amber West, another experienced spanking model. Amber had the height and strength I needed both to be ridden by Chloe for the equestrian positions and to be able to lift her for the triples, or so I hoped. What she definitely did have was enough skill with a camera to act as assistant photographer and exactly the attitude I wanted, as I’d discovered when she agreed to pose for an article on another of my penchants, erotic clowns. She’s the one getting spanked.

With my team in place I hired Blingshot Studios in North London, allowing me the use of professional lighting and a pleasantly domestic but uncomplicated set to show the models to best advantage. I like to think we got some good results, so here are a few examples from the finished product: plates 8, 16 and 31 –

Not that everything went completely to plan. Only when we got to the triples did we discover that Amber Couldn’t lift Chloe onto her shoulders, so I was forced to hand over the camera and take her place, now with a slightly shocked Leia-Ann on the receiving end. I’m afraid I wasn’t really dressed the part.

 

 

The great project was almost complete, with only the mechanics of publication to go through before The Big, Bad Book of Spanking Positions became a reality, except that even as Amber and I drove away from the studio we were thinking of new and increasingly complicated positions. I did take her out into the woods to complete an appendix, Contortionist’s Corner, and then added a second appendix on aftercare. Once I’d finished editing the pictures I had fifty plates covering seventy different spanking positions and a few other not to be missed themes such as the removal of Chloe’s knickers, which takes an entire page and twelve pictures.

So there it is, but even as the finished product went to press I knew I hadn’t exhausted all the possibilities. For a start I’d prefer positions such as Kissing the Gunner’s Daughter and Over a Barrel to actually involve an old fashioned ship’s cannon and a barrel respectively, while I can’t help but think that the military positions should have been done with the girls in uniform, the equestrian ones in riding gear and pony-girl harness, On the Lap with me dressed up as Santa Claus etc etc etc. Not only that, but it now seems to be impossible to get together with my fellow spanking enthusiasts without some clever Dick or Daisy demonstrating some bizarre possibility that hadn’t occurred to me.

Oh well, it looks as if I might have to start considering the second edition.

****

Many thanks Peter – what a great project! I confess to being a tiny bit jealous that I wasn’t research assistant on that assignment!

Links to Peter (and his varies guises) can be found here-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Aishling-Morgan/e/B002BLFARO/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1437682532&sr=1-2-ent for Aishling Morgan

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Peter-Birch/e/B005ORLTMW/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1437682575&sr=1-2-ent for Peter Birch

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Alice-McCloud/e/B0034O6NAA/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1437682620&sr=1-2-ent for Alice McCloud

You can also find Peter here– http://peterbirch.tumblr.com/

Thanks again Peter,

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

 

jenny hendrix fucked by voodoo

 

 

 

KJB’s Tip Time: Summer Sort Out

Summer has finally arrived, and it’s time to have a good sort out of all your clothes.

This weekend why not upturn your underwear drawer, and consign all those faded bras, worn out knickers, briefs and boxers to the bin?

Perhaps you could even get rid of that blouse you love, but can’t wear because it has a large BBQ sauce stain down the front, and that skirt, which is simply too tatty to wear out of the house any more.

But before those garments hit the recycling bags, how about giving them one final hoorah?

Call your lover up, send them a text, or leave them a note, saying that at a specific time and place you will be dressed in your oldest clothes, just waiting for them to come and rip them off you…literally!

TEnjhere is no sound like that of cotton being ripped from your body…trust me…

Have fun…

If you want more inspiration for this tip, check out Not Her Type. John the courier knows exactly how to treat old clothing!

Enjoy your weekend.

Kay x

(PS- Have fun- but remember to stay safe. Be aware of allergies, personal limits, and health at all times. I want you to have a fun weekend, not a trip to A&E. xx)

Guest post from Jacqueline Brocker: A Sense of an Ending

I’m delighted to be able to welcome my friend, and fabulous writer, Jacqueline Brocker, to my site today, with not one, but three new stories to talk about…

First, let me thank Kay for giving me space on her blog to blather at you, and second, to congratulate her on the awesome ETO win! Isn’t it just marvellous?

Aww- thank you- I’m still in shock!

And now, on with the post…

A Sense of an Ending

Why am I here? I’ve had three short stories come out this year from Forbidden Fiction – two m/m (Bare Blue Steel and Precious Metal), one f/m (Fool’s Gold), and each in different genres (Precious Metal is science fiction and Bare Blue Steel is contemporary, while Fool’s Gold is historical fantasy). All of them are also erotica, but none are really romance. (I feel almost duty bound to say this, because people can get confused these days). Maybe sort of if you squint at two of them, but I’d be hesitant to recommend them to a romance reader. Why? They may not get that Happily Ever After that a reader expects with romance.

It’s a tricky thing coming up with a good ending for any story, and it seems to be an increasingly fraught issue with erotica. I’ll come to that in a moment, but first I’d like to look at the idea of happy endings.

There are two things that I want to focus on first. On the one hand, there is the idea (I don’t have evidence for this, more gut instinct) that if you say you don’t write happy endings, people interpret that to mean all your stories are Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet – tragic endings with half the cast dead and the scene awash with blood. On the other hand, there is another idea that happy endings immediately render the story inferior in quality, that happy endings are ‘disney-fied’ and pandering to the audience – as if the Hamlet-esque ending makes the story somehow superior just by the nature of its ending. It is, I suspect, one of the reasons that romance is often sneered at (there are other reasons that I don’t have the space to discuss here).

Two extremes, and anyone who has read a lot of books, watched a lot of films, partaken in any kind of story telling medium, knows this is nonsense. Anyone who has read a lot knows there is a whole range of possibilities, not even a sliding scale between happy and tragic, but ideas all over the map of what makes a good ending. Trouble is, it’s starting to feel like erotica can only have the happy ending, that it is an off-shoot of romance so ergo must follow its conventions, that it must offer either a sense of optimism or a level of comfort. Neither of which are bad in and of themselves – for the right story, they’re perfect and absolutely the way those stories should end. It worries me though when writers – especially those like me who write what they think is erotica rather than romance – feel obligated to make sure that’s the kind of story they are telling in order to get published. Or even just to be read.

Does this mean I want blood-soaked tragedy and sense of hopelessness at the end of my tales? Hardly. My belief with endings is that they have to make sense to the story and to the characters. And there is such a gamut of ways to end a story: philosophically, optimistically (even if the romantic pairing aren’t together), pensively, ambiguously. Maybe you’re satisfied with where the characters are at in life, maybe it leaves you wondering what happens next. Maybe you’re fearful for their fate, but it’s been left hanging in the balance. Maybe there is a mix of hope and despair, maybe it is bittersweet. Maybe they are together, but oh dear, you think, what a terrible idea! Or maybe the characters going their own way is the best and happiest thing for both (or all three, or more…) of them. There is such a variety of ways a story can end that is such a shame to feel trapped by just one.

So, does all that entice you to read any of the stories I’ve written to see how I’ve concluded them? Well, how that ends, dear reader, is up to you…

Blurbs and Information/Buy Links

Fool’s Gold

When Anne Delahaye, captain of the pirate ship the Merriment, is lead to a chest of coins with unusual markings, she assumes that she’s been cheated. But when she learns that the coins may be the key to a strange cave where desires become reality, she goes to find out for herself. What she finds there brings up memories and desires of a life she thought was gone.

Information (Except, Content Labels): http://forbiddenfiction.com/story/JB1-1.000237

Buy Links: http://fantasticfictionpublishing.com/product/fools-gold

Precious Metal

Hector’s life as a cyborg, after an accident that left him with a mechanical arm and metal jaw, shouldn’t affect his sex life—but his partner, Kay, can’t bring himself to be intimate with a man who’s half-machine. Hector needs to find a way to convince Kay that LanceCorp didn’t replace the most important part of him—his heart.

Information (Except, Content Labels): http://forbiddenfiction.com/story/JB1-1.000194

Buy Links: http://fantasticfictionpublishing.com/product/precious-metal

Bare Blue Steel

Jimmy adores his boyfriend Tom, with his slick suits, fedoras, and cool demeanour. When Jimmy discovers a revolver in Tom’s bedside drawers, he is confronted with the truth about Tom’s business activities. How did he miss the signs? Or has Jimmy been ignoring the truth about Tom to hide from the truth about himself?

Information (Except, Content Labels): http://forbiddenfiction.com/story/JB1-1.000193

Buy Links: http://fantasticfictionpublishing.com/product/bare-blue-steel

Social Media

Website: http://jacquelinebrocker.net/

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jacquib19/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ms_jacquelineb

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jacqueline-Brocker/350975778281809

Instagram: https://instagram.com/jacquibrocker/

***

Many thanks for visiting today Jacqui!

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx