Kay Jaybee's Blog, page 73
August 8, 2014
Day 13-Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: The Retreat (The Perfect Submissive Book 2)
It’s Day 13 of my Tasty Tasters fortnight! I can’t believe we’ve almost reached the end of this special blog series!
Yesterday we looked at the first book in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy- so today, let’s take a peep at Book 2– The Retreat.
The Retreat carries on from 6 months after we have left Miss Jess Sanders adjusting to her new life at the Fables Hotel…
Blurb
Just as Jess is beginning to relax into her new life as a submissive at The Fables Hotel, her employer Mrs Peters announces that she is loaning both Jess, and her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to one of their most demanding clients; Mr David Proctor.
Whisked away by the mysterious Kane to The Retreat, hidden in a remote part of Scotland, Jess and Miss Sarah find themselves teaching another submissive to meet Proctor’s exacting rules.
As Jess comes to terms with the techniques of The Retreat Mistress, and the strictly overpowering dominatrix Lady Tia, she discovers that Proctor’s motives may not be all they seem.
Just who or what is Fairtasia? And why does Jess feel like she’s walked into a warped fairy tale?
In order to get back to The Fables, Jess is going to have to be more than just a perfect submissive…
****
Let’s take a look at how the middle book in the trilogy begins…
Prologue
‘Please Sir. Please! I won’t let you down.’
David Proctor peered at the woman crouched before him. The top of her head, haphazardly piled with blonde curls, was all he could see of her bowed face.
‘I can learn. I can.’ Her voice quivered with deep-seated yearning, ‘I’ll learn to be whoever you want me to be.’
The heated softness of her Scottish accent added a dimension to David’s arousal which he hadn’t expected. No stranger to the world of submission and domination, he’d never met anyone so keen to be subservient to him before.
With his ego growing almost as much as his cock, which nudged against the inside of his suit trousers, David hunkered down beside the girl. Her bare buttocks bore the pleasing marks of his palm. The fading prints were a blotched pink now, but they’d blazed red only moments ago, when he’d pinned her across his lap, spanking her backside again and again in punishment for her repeated disobedience. Or rather, for her failure to obey, despite her repeated efforts to please him.
The cook’s breasts, just over a handful in size, were dotted with freckles, and as he fondled them between his fingers, David’s mind seethed with images of all the things a willing slave could do for him.
Lifting her lowered head by the chin, David fixed his hazel eyes into her sapphire ones, ‘But you refuse to climax when I tell you to.’ His voice wasn’t angry, but it was hard. David Proctor was, and would always be, an unyielding business man. If there was nothing in any arrangement of long term benefit for him, it wouldn’t happen.
‘I want to though Sir. I really want to, I… Forgive me, but you make me hang on for so long before granting permission to come, and then I can’t. I am so sorry, I…’
‘SShhhh.’ David ran his fingers through the wisps of hair that had escaped her hooked up ponytail. There was no denying that she intrigued him. With each stroke of her wavy locks he thought.
The Retreat did need another submissive. And soon, if his business plans were to expand in the direction he intended. The man Fairtasia was sending to represent them was due any day now, and not long after that, their delegates would arrive.
‘Please Sir?’ The cooks pupils seemed impossibly wide as she held his eyes, and but for the occasional shiver of denied desire, her bare legs didn’t move against the stone kitchen floor, proving just how good her stamina was already. ‘Lady Tia could teach me.’
‘Tr…ain…ing.’ David spoke the thought slowly, as if to himself, mulling each letter over with his tongue, but the young woman leapt upon the word.
‘Training! Yes Sir! Dr Ewen says Lady Tia is the best dominatrix there is.’
‘She is indeed good, but…’ The Retreat’s new owner reached his hands back to the girl’s tits, and felt his cock stiffen further as her nipples pressed greedily against his skin, ‘I’m not sure Lady Tia’s field of expertise will be sufficient in this case. Spankings and beatings you can already take, and plainly enjoy.’
The girl re-dipped her face. She was obviously trying not to let her disappointment in her own shortcomings show. There was no doubt she was submissive material- and yet- not quite. Her deference to him however, and his urgent requirement for an additional member of staff, made David’s mind up for him.
‘I think it’s time I contacted a friend in England. I’m sure she’ll send us the help we need.’ Manipulating the cook’s chest with greater vigour, relishing the resulting gasp of pain tinged pleasure that flew from her lips; David’s round face gave a calculating smile.
His eyes had fallen upon the giant range in the centre of The Retreat’s antique kitchen. Then his gaze travelled to the table next to it. A huge old fashioned pottery jar of ginger powder, and another of brown sugar, sat awaiting the sidetracked cooks’ attention.
For weeks David had been contemplating how to impress the Fairtasia company delegation. He knew that the final securing of the contract he wanted from them so badly, would depend on the outcome of the party The Retreat was hosting for them in a month’s time.
In order for the head of Fairtasia to sign on the dotted line, and make their business arrangement official, the evening would have to be unforgettable. Now, as he looked about him, David knew precisely what theme that party was going to take. And how fitting it would be.
‘Alisha.’
The cook jerked her head up hopefully at her employer’s use of her first name.
‘You may train to be The Retreat’s new submissive. Lady Tia can begin your lessons as you suggest.’ David unzipped the fly of his trousers. As he freed his dick, he had to suppress a laugh as the girl eyed it hungrily. ‘You may also address me as David. I don’t like Sir. I never have. Now suck me off.’
‘Yes David.’
‘Good girl.’ Extracting his mobile from his pocket, David tapped in a number as the cook’s velvet mouth engulfed him.
The sucking of Alisha’s lips and tongue working around his length was the only sound in the granite room, as David waited for his call to be picked up.
‘Ah, Fables Hotel? Could you put me through to Mrs Peters’ office please?… Not there?… Please tell her that Mr Proctor has a proposition for her; and that time is of the essence.’
Pocketing his mobile, David tangled his fingers into the cook’s increasingly messed up hair. Tilting his groin forward, admiring the way Alisha amended her position so she didn’t gag, but took him deeper, David asked, ‘Tell me, how much do you know about fairytales…?’
****
Well- if that has perked your curiosity- then you can pre-order The Retreat on Xcite or Amazon in either paperback or e-book form via these links…
****
Check out yesterdays’ Tasty Taster if you haven’t read Part 1 of the trilogy! (Although I should stress that you don’t need to have read the first book to enjoy The Retreat- but it would give you lots of juicy background to the main characters….)
Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for a glimpse at the final part of the trilogy, and the last in this years tasty taster series! Not to mention the competition!!
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
Happy Reading Everyone.
Kay xx
August 7, 2014
Day 12- Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: The Perfect Submissive (Book 1)
It’s Day Twelve of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters series! Today is all about my BDSM novel The Perfect Submissive - the first part of my popular (I love that I can say that!!) trilogy of the same name. 
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…
****
I am delighted at just how well my BDSM trilogy of novels is being received at the moment- it has been very difficult choosing a piece to share with you that didn’t ruin the story before you’d read the book. I think perhaps Chapter Seven, when Miss Jess Sanders embarks on an interesting new exercise routine, might just whet your appetite without spoiling the plot!!
Chapter Seven
Although she had visited the majority of the facilities provided by the hotel, until now Jess had managed to avoid the gymnasium. The bookings to use the spa and sports equipment were handled by a separate reception at the entrance to the gym, and the closest Jess had got to it was to point the Fables guests in the right direction. Waiting just inside the sports hall, Jess was reminded of the horror of games lessons at school, the humiliation of the changing rooms, and the hour of hell she’d endured three times a week when she’d totally failed to be good at any sport at all. A humiliation that had stayed with her, putting her off all sport for the rest of her life. She hated the smell of the place, the sort of antiseptic chlorine-style aroma with an undercurrent of sweat. The air felt heavy and trapped, as if impatient for the day’s activity to get underway. Even though it was only seven in the morning, Jess could see two eager tennis players making their way to a court at the far side of the hall, their footsteps echoing against the floor. Notepad and pen firmly to hand, Jess looked around impatiently for a member of the sports staff to arrive. The gymnasium had been closed for a safety and stock check, and Jess was required to take notes of any adjustments or purchases that needed to be made. She checked her watch again; her accomplice was already ten minutes late. She was just considering reporting back to Reception when she saw Miss Sarah approaching, suitably attired in a figure hugging Lycra sports top and leggings. For a fleeting second she considered it a possibility that Miss Sarah was coming to help her stock take, but dismissed the idea as ridiculous. She could have been coming for a workout and hadn’t been told the gym was closed for the morning. There was no doubt that the woman did work out. Jess had seen the physical results of the way the dominatrix kept herself in trim. I’ve been set up. The familiar prickle of sweat crept up her spine, as she did her best to shake the thought from her almost continually lust focused mind. Gripping her stationery, and feeling frumpy in her black trousers and white blouse, Jess wondered what was going to happen to her now. ‘Miss Sanders.’ ‘Miss Sarah?’ The greeting was not exactly friendly, but at least it stopped short of frosty. ‘I have been sent to inform you that the stock take has been postponed until nine a.m. A far more civilised hour, don’t you think?’ Jess didn’t reply, her eyes straying to the bunch of keys in Miss Sarah’s hand. ‘I always workout here. Where do you go?’ ‘I don’t. I can’t really afford to join a gym.’ Dismissing this as a minor matter, Miss Sarah replied, ‘But can you afford not to? Besides, free use of this gym is available to all Fables staff before eight in the morning, and after nine at night. Did no one tell you?’ ‘No they didn’t, but to be honest I’m not keen on exercise anyway.’ ‘That …’ the older woman regarded Jess very carefully, ‘… is all too obvious. I think you should accompany me.’ She unlocked the door to the gym and waited for a reluctant Jess to push her way through the double doors. Four exercise bicycles, some rowing machines, a variety of lifting weights, and numerous other ways to voluntarily exhaust yourself, met Jess’s gaze. She knew she wasn’t as fit as she ought to be and that she was more curvy than slim, but if she didn’t care about that, and was healthy, then so what? ‘I have a confession.’ The expression on Miss Sarah’s face confirmed Jess’s suspicions that this was not an accidental meeting. ‘Mrs Peters has asked me to take on a task in addition to my usual duties.’ The paper between Jess’s fingers began to feel damp as the foreboding that had been nagging her surged forward. ‘What task?’ ‘Mrs Peters is happy with your progress – on the whole. There are issues that need attention however, improvements that need to be made.’ The fifth floor’s deputy began to pace around the gym, her fingers running lovingly over the shiny metal machines. ‘Our clients have requirements we are duty bound to meet, however cliché they might be.’ ‘Please, Miss Sarah, what task?’ ‘Personally I think Mrs Peters is wrong. No need to look so shocked. I happen to know this room is not bugged, so I can do and say what I like. I’m also confident that you are not foolish enough to share my thoughts on this.’ Still unsure exactly what Miss Sarah was suggesting, Jess simply agreed that she did indeed know when to keep her mouth shut. ‘She thinks your over-round figure is attractive. You are, after all, simply a shorter version of her own shape, but she concedes that the customers tend to prefer slim waists and slender hips along with a large chest.’ Jess swallowed nervously. She could see where this was going, and she didn’t like it. ‘I, on the other hand, think a strict regime of exercise will not only get rid of that excess fat, it will install in you some much needed discipline and obedience.’ Trying to think when her obedience could possibly have been questioned, Jess’s eyes followed Miss Sarah as she continued to stride around the gym, stopping every now and then to caress the equipment. ‘And as I’d heard the gym was going to be closed to guests for a while today, I arranged things so that you and I can make a start on the routine I have put together for you.’ ‘But I don’t have time.’ Jess knew there was no point in telling her she didn’t want to take part, but the pile of work on her desk made what she said perfectly true. ‘You do. I have arranged things.’ ‘But …’ ‘Enough. You are our employee; consider this one of those “other duties” in your contract. Now, please remove your outer garments; there is no way you can exercise in those.’ Shooting a look of uncertainty towards the doors in case anyone else was about to come in, Jess reluctantly slipped off her shoes and began to undo the buttons of her shirt. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve locked the doors.’ Miss Sarah went over to a pile of mats in the corner and pulled out three, laying them together on the floor, forming a softer surface on which to work. ‘Hurry up, girl, we only have an hour and then you have a stock take to do.’ Peeling her shirt off and tugging down her trousers, Jess stood in her white satin underwear, her arms crossing self- consciously over her chest. ‘For goodness sake, girl, after six months working here, seeing you semi-naked is hardly going to shock me.’ Acknowledging that for the truth it was, Jess forced herself to lower her arms. ‘Right, come here please.’ Miss Sarah pointed to the spot directly in front of her on the mats. Her body shaking, Jess obeyed, her bare feet sticking a little against the plastic surface. Placing her hands on Jess’s elbows, Miss Sarah then levered her arms up so that the clerk was stood with them out at right angles to her body. ‘I want you to keep you arms there. You are not to move. While it is important to tone up that stomach and shave some fat off those hips and your arse, it is equally important to increase your upper body strength, but without decreasing that generous chest of yours.’ Without taking her eyes off her student, Miss Sarah reached for a water bottle, and filled it from the cooler before taking a long swig. ‘Hydration is very important.’ Jess, her arms already aching from being held stiff at an unaccustomed angle for so long, could almost taste the chilled liquid as it ran down Miss Sarah’s throat. ‘Two more minutes and I’ll let you have some water.’ Sitting down cross-legged on the mat in front of Jess, the other woman looked up at her thoughtfully. ‘I bet you’re beginning to feel all hot. I might let you take your bra off in a while. It’s a shame to keep that chest hidden away. I’ll see how well behaved you are – we could call it a reward for doing as you’re told.’ It hadn’t occurred to Jess that her chest was getting warm; she’d been concentrating so hard on not putting her arms down and relaxing the muscles, which had begun to scream for some relief, she hadn’t thought of anything else. Now the idea had been put into her head her breasts felt clammy, and her nipples began to chaff at the inside of her bra cups. ‘One more minute.’ Miss Sarah looked calm as she sat sipping the cold water, watching the perspiration that was gathered on Jess’s forehead. The clerk couldn’t believe how much staying perfectly still was hurting her. The longing for a drink battled with the need to lower her arms as she shuffled her feet a fraction, trying to shift some of the tension that was coursing down her back. ‘You moved.’ The other woman sounded more resigned than cross. ‘Shame, you won’t be rewarded with free tits now.’ ‘I couldn’t help it! This hurts so much.’ ‘Good. Your stamina is pitiful and needs improving. You have 20 seconds left.’ Counting down in her head, her teeth gritted, Jess kept her feet firmly glued to the floor. ‘Time up.’ Jess found she couldn’t lower her arms as quickly as she’d have liked to. Her muscles had seized, and the only way to manoeuvre them was slowly. Miss Sarah rose from the floor and passed over the bottle, ‘Here, you must keep your fluids up.’ Gratefully, Jess glugged back some water, flexing her feet, legs and shoulders as she did so. ‘I’d like you to lie on your back on the mats now, with your arms stretched out above your head and your knees bent.’ Glad to at least be lying down, Jess obliged, surprised by how comfortable it was to have her limbs pulled out in a different direction for a moment. ‘Bring your arms down and place them under your head.’ Jess’s hair felt hot between her fingers as she listened to the next instruction, ‘You will raise both your legs a fraction off the floor, hold them for the count of two, and then lower them. Begin.’ It was harder than it sounded, and Jess was soon struggling to hold her legs in the air for even the count of one. The perspiration that had dotted her forehead turned to sweat, and she could feel droplets run between her cleavage as her breathing became laboured. ‘Honestly, Miss Sanders, you’re in an even worse state than I feared.’ The mistress stood astride Jess’s stomach. ‘Keep going.’ Staring down at Jess’s face, she tilted the water bottle slightly, and as Jess watched a tiny drizzle of water began to fall, almost as if in slow motion towards her chest. The second it hit, Jess cried out, it was so cold it almost burnt her hot flesh, and she stopped moving as the liquid seeped into her bra. ‘I told you to keep going.’ Miss Sarah held the bottle steady, and the drip drip of water continued to trickle across Jess’s cleavage and bra, running down her stomach while she struggled to keep her legs moving. ‘Hold in those stomach muscles.’ Openly panting with the effort, Jess’s breasts had changed from being hot and uncomfortable to being soaked with a sodden bra clinging to her skin, making her nipples more enlarged than ever. After three more lifts, Miss Sarah righted the water bottle, ‘Stop.’ Jess’s legs positively crashed to the floor with exhaustion, not moving as her companion crouched next to her head and whispered, ‘That was pathetic – how on earth are you going to manage the sit ups you are about to do?’ Shaking her head from side to side, Jess cried out, ‘I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.’ Every muscle in her body was tight and sore from the unaccustomed workout she hadn’t even been allowed to warm up for. ‘But you can, and you will.’ Miss Sarah sat astride Jess’s legs, trapping her in place against the gym mats. Splayed fingers ran provocatively around the outline of Jess’s tits, igniting every nerve in her body, ‘I have an incentive scheme in mind. Sit up.’ Jess struggled to her elbows and Miss Sarah deftly reached around her back and undid her bra, peeling it off with a sticky sucking sound. Then shuffling forward, she licked the nipple of each breast just once, sending shock waves of pleasure through Jess’s tired frame. ‘Each time you sit up properly, you will have a nipple tongued.’ Wishing this wasn’t such a strong incentive, but privately knowing it was Jess nodded, her face flushed with shame. ‘Good girl, I knew you would.’ With a deep breath, her hands behind her head, Jess sat up, but failed to get as far as Miss Sarah and sank back in defeat. ‘Again.’ Jess winced as she rose upwards, determined to reach the mouth that was already parting to take in her right teat. The contact was fleeting and moist and delicious, and Jess suddenly found she had the hidden reserves to move again, this time being rewarded on the left side. Five sit ups later and Miss Sarah began to laugh, before saying, ‘Enough,’ and Jess sagged back, relieved, but instantly missing the stimulation and violently aware of the heat that was coursing between her legs. Rising abruptly, Miss Sarah returned to her usual business-like demeanour. ‘Up.’ Taking her time to rise to her quaking legs Jess did as she was told, before drinking from the water bottle that was offered to her. ‘A quick cycle I think.’ Jess walked unsteadily to the nearest bike and went to sit down, but was stopped. ‘These need to be put in place first.’ Jess’s eyes goggled at the tiny set of love balls Miss Sarah had produced from nowhere. Tug those pants down, girl and open those legs.’ Clumsily, the clerk did as she was told, almost coming as the slender fingers slipped the weighted spheres easily inside her wet channel, before pulling up the knickers to keep them in place. ‘Cycle.’ With every laboured turn of the pedals the love balls slid around inside her, and Jess could feel the knot of an orgasm rise in her like fire. ‘Hold in those stomach muscles. Keep control, girl! Consider this a practice for when I make you do this exercise without knickers on! ’ Jess pulled in her tummy for all she was worth; the tighter she clenched her muscles the more the balls stayed still. But each time she lost concentration, the heavy spheres rolled towards the mouth of her vagina, and Jess had to re-double her efforts to keep them contained; their pressure adding to the need she felt magnifying by the second. By the time Miss Sarah shouted ‘Stop,’ tension oozed from every pore of Jess’s shattered body. The moment she stopped pedalling the love balls swung within her, and unable to stop it, a climax zipped through her untutored flesh and she shook and shuddered against the bike. Not daring to look at Miss Sarah, Jess quickened herself, the disapproving silence of the room enveloping her. Her voice surprisingly neutral, the dominatrix said, ‘Come here, and pass the balls to me.’ Tugging her knickers down a little, the balls plopped out of their own accord. Jess shamefacedly gave them back to Miss Sarah. Why isn’t she cross? ‘We are almost out of time. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you these sessions are to become a regular thing, and, if you do as you’re told, then I will be rewarding you -occasionally. Now, we’ll finish with a run. This is only a small room, so I suggest four circuits of the perimeter.’ Jess looked at her in exhausted horror, ‘I can’t.’ ‘Not like that you can’t, certainly. Take those knickers off; you need to get some air down there, girl.’ No longer caring about anything but the possibility of a rest, Jess dragged the wet satin away, and following the direction that Miss Sarah was pointing in, began to jog around the room. Her breasts swayed madly and the air seemed to caress her body, inflaming it all over again. Observing the figure that was obeying her, knowing she’d only have to say the word and she’d willingly allow herself to be fucked, Miss Sarah frowned to herself. Mrs Peters might have designs on forming this girl into the ideal submissive assistant, but she began to wonder if this girl could be dangerous. She had spent a long time building up her guest list; did Miss Sarah really want Miss Sanders muscling in on that?…
*** T
he Perfect Submissive is available in all formats from Xcite, Amazon, and all good retailers.
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
Tomorrow we’ll take a peep at Book 2 in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy- The Retreat.
Happy reading,
Kay xx
August 6, 2014
Day 11- Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: Making Him Wait
We’ve reached to Day 11 of our two week trip through the KJB archive!!
Today, I’m Making Him Wait!!
Blurb-
Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she’s happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas.
But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge. Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. But, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out!
At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted. Will Maddie’s models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time?
The only way to find out is to wait and see…and the waiting only makes it sweeter!
****
This hot extract comes from the very beginning on my erotica romance- with a huge splodge of paint…
Ignoring the buzz of her mobile phone, Maddie placed the worn stub of charcoal to the side of her easel and took a step back from the girl before her.
Maddie nodded with approval as her newest model – a petite blonde – flexed the muscles she’d been keeping stock still for the previous half hour.
“Control, Freya – at least the appearance of control – is everything.” The artist reached out an affectionate hand to her muse.
Freya rocked a little on her bare feet as Maddie touched her lightly freckled cheek. “No need to look so worried, honey. You are doing brilliantly. It’s a difficult pose to hold for so long.”
“Thank you.” Blushing an endearing shade of pink, Freya lowered the hands she’d nervously clenched before her, giving her employer another chance to see the neat triangle of her semi-shaved pussy.
Maddie, her jeans and t-shirt smeared and spattered with all the mediums of her trade, did not feel the need to mention to Freya that her own knickers were sodden, nor that beneath her holster bra, her nipples were rock hard.
A further buzz from her mobile alerted Maddie to the arrival of another text message. In fact a steady string of muffled noises from her mobile, coming from the pit of her handbag, had been announcing the arrival of texts every ten minutes or so throughout the morning.
Smiling to herself, Maddie continued to disregard her phone and considered the exquisite outline of her companion’s porcelain frame. Most people came to Maddie to be drawn or painted, sometimes as a commission for a lover, husband or wife. Some, however, like Freya, came to the studio as a way of improving their self-confidence. Despite her generally shy demeanour, Freya had proved to be very good at posing as Maddie required and the artist had offered her an occasional job as a life model.
Sometimes Maddie felt she was more therapist than artist – specifically a sex therapist – as men and women alike shared their most intimate secrets while standing on the other side of her easel. Maddie’s studio certainly had the air of an erotic fantasy confessional about it. She wasn’t complaining, however. No other life would do for her now. The job satisfaction Maddie achieved from listening to the dreams and fantasies of others while she recreated them onto canvas, went hand in glove with the personal physical gratification it gave her.
Money being either plentiful or non-existent, depending on the current success of her commissions and sales, Maddie had been forced to develop an alternative form of payment for her models – a reward system for good work. Maddie could tell from the rise and fall of Freya’s chest and the glistening damp skin at the top of her thighs, that she was more than ready to be paid for today’s session.
Closing in on her model, Maddie simultaneously cupped Freya’s slick pussy and left breast with her charcoal-blackened hands, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through the younger woman’s body.
“Your progress really is outstanding, honey. Few of my models can stay as motionless as you can.” Congratulating Freya on her skill, Maddie left two dark palm prints on the girl’s tits and tapped at the inside of her legs. “Open up. I think you have deserved a treat after all your hard work.”
Gliding her palm over Freya’s mound, Maddie slipped a gentle finger into the slippery canal of the model’s frantically clutching sex, enjoying the murmured mew of contentment that escaped from her lipstick-free mouth.
Pumping gently, the artist brought Freya close to orgasm with steady increases and decreases of pressure – her own mind straying to her mobile. Maddie wondered where Theo was and what he was doing. She knew what he was thinking about. She always knew that. Theo thought about her.
Pushing her happily sex-drugged model onto an armchair, Maddie’s own arousal kicked up a notch as she bent to lick Freya’s nub, swiftly bringing her to the dawn of a shuddering release.
While continuing to take pleasure in the sweet taste of another woman on her lips, Maddie considered how she’d phrase her responses to all the messages Theo had sent and how she’d tell him precisely what and who had held up her replies.
Inhaling Freya’s climactic scent, Maddie’s hands roamed up and over the small, orgasm-jacked body, her thoughts still with Theo. His work-calloused right hand was probably on his dick at that very moment. A heady hit of power consumed Maddie – a power as intense as the climax of the woman panting hard in the chair before her.
Maddie loved making him wait…
****
If you fancy finding out what happens next, you can buy Making Him Wait from -
Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Making-Him-Wait-Kay-Jaybee/dp/190918117X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1352239259&sr=8-1
cheap levitra http://drjudy4health.com/ http://mentalhealthnews.org/about/
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
Happy Reading!
See you tomorrow!
Kay xx
August 5, 2014
Day 10- Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: Take Control
Day 10!!! And 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)
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
Happy reading- see you tomorrow!!!
Kay xx
August 4, 2014
Day 9- Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: The Voyeur
It’s Day 9 of my Tasty Taster fortnight!
Yesterday we had some Femdom, so what better way to share some more of my trade mark harder core erotica, than with a teaser from my BDSM Maledom MFF threesome erotic romance, The Voyeur…
Blurb
Wealthy business man and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is in the process of making a reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff. His Personal Assistant, Anya Grant, and his Housekeeper Clara Hooper.
Upon his willing slave’s bare backs, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy – Fantasy 13- can take place.
But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And why is Mark getting mixed up with Anya’s previous employers at the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club- a place Anya was all too delighted to escape from?
In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they had left behind them all over again…
****
Anya had re-scanned all the emails that had flown across the invisible airwaves of the Atlantic between herself and Candice over the past few weeks. Having retreated to the bathroom to redo her lipstick and add a second layer of concealer to the bags under her eyes, Anya felt was as ready as she’d ever be to face the confident, ultra-efficient American PA over the video link.
Having checked the webcam was working properly, and that she was seated comfortably for the forthcoming exchange of information, Anya grabbed a final glance at the notes she’d made, and turned the conference call facility onto standby.
She was just tapping in the password she required to be patched through to the States when the office door opened and Mark and Clara walked in. Anya’s stomach twisted into a knot of lust as she regarded Clara in a skin-hugging Lycra catsuit, all scarlet and black; a combination which showed her figure off to perfection.
There was no point in protesting that she was about to take an important call; Mark already knew that. Why else would he have bought Clara in, dressed so provocatively, at that exact moment? Her boss was a game player extraordinaire, and he knew precisely how to press her buttons, and freak her out at the same time. Anya had known Fantasy 6 would have to be replayed – but she hadn’t expected it now; so soon after Fantasy 2.
So, Mark isn’t going to rerun his erotic fancies in order after all.
Mark said nothing as he gestured for Anya to rise while he pulled her chair from her desk. Clara, without prompting, crawled under the desk, and crouching uncomfortably, waited for Mark to speak.
Even as her boss pointedly announced the obvious imminent replay of Fantasy 6, Anya was ahead of him, vividly remembering what had happened last time she had been forced to carry out a telephone call with Clara’s head between her legs. This time it seemed she was going to have to endure all the gorgeous delights to come while communing with an audience who could not only hear her voice, but see her as well; and who must never know what was going on below the desk.
‘Roll up your skirt, take off your thong, and sit down. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the importance of opening your legs as wide as possible.’ Anya kicked off her shoes and obliged. ‘Quickly, girl, it’s time for your meeting to begin.’
As she sat, pulling in her chair as close to the desk as it would go without squashing Clara, Anya tried to steady her nerves. The video line rang, and Anya plastered a convincingly serene smile across her face.
‘How are you, Candice, all well over there?’ Anya felt pleased at how normal her voice sounded despite the knowledge that the woman she loved was curled up only inches from her naked pussy.
‘I’m great, thank you.’ Candice, as no-nonsense as ever, dived straight into the business of the day. ‘I’m pleased to say that the personnel alterations we’ve had this end seem to be an improvement, rather than the procedural nightmare that we both feared.’
Anya listened hard as Candice listed the strengths of the new employees and what she hoped they would bring to Parker Software as a whole. But as the minutes ticked by, and Clara hadn’t so much as breathed on her, Anya found her focus beginning to falter.
‘And if his impact so far is anything to go by, then I judge that Stuart Hopkirk will turn out to be the better of the new candidates to fulfil the transatlantic element of the sales force. He’s more of a “people person”, if you see what I mean?’ Candice emphasised her point by using her fingers to show the inverted commas around the statement that Anya had only partially heard.
Why hadn’t Clara done anything yet? Last time this had happened, her lover had been straight in with the action. That had been hard enough, trying to keep her tone business-like when Clara had been employing her mouth so expertly. This non-action was far worse. Anya was so braced for the feel of the first touch that she knew she was losing the thrust of what Candice was saying.
‘Anya, are you OK?’ Candice’s southern twang sounded genuinely concerned as her counterpart failed to answer a question.
‘Sorry, the screen broke up then for a bit,’ Anya rallied, not daring to glance in Mark’s direction, knowing he’d be annoyed at her lack of professionalism. ‘Could you repeat that one, please?’
‘Sure. I was saying that Hopkins will be over in the UK next month, so I’ll confirm dates with you once flights are booked. Mark should talk with him face to face. His ideas on company development are interesting.’
‘Of course. I’ll sort a meet and greet session in London as soon as you confirm timings.’
‘Excellent! Right, that just leaves us to sort Mark’s visit to the States in the summer. Are you coming with him this year? It would be great to meet you in person.’
‘I doubt it. I – owwww!’ Anya jumped as a sharp pair of teeth dug into her pussy. ‘Oh, do excuse me; I think I was just stung. Must be an insect in here or something.’
Candice’s eyes narrowed. She looked far from convinced, but was too professional and polite to do anything other than take Anya’s word for it.
Anya could feel a blush start to creep up her neck and tinge her cheeks pink as Clara continued to nibble her teeth over and around her mound, pulling back her labia with a sharp pressure which she knew could bring Anya off very quickly.
It was time to end this conference call, and quickly. ‘Well, my diary has the last four days of July pencilled in as a possible. How does that fit with you?’
Candice tapped a few buttons on the out of sight iPad Anya knew she was physically attached to, and looked up with an orthodontically enhanced, white toothed smile. ‘The 29th is out, but the four days prior to that are clear. Shall I book Mark in?’
Without even bothering to check those days were free in Mark’s calendar, Anya said, ‘That would be excellent.’ As Clara’s tongue and right hand joined in the exploration of her crotch, Anya pretended to write down the dates.
‘Anything else you require today, Candice?’ Anya squeezed her fingernails into her hidden palms, trying to deflect the need to wriggle her arse closer to Clara’s lips, which had begun to move even faster.
‘I think that just about concludes things. Thanks for your time, Anya.’
Issuing a smile of genuine relief as Candice bought things to a close, Anya felt Clara’s long fingernails began to delicately scrape the space below her clit. Her smile toward Candice froze for a split second as Clara then forcibly pushed a hand under Anya, shoving her butt upwards so her anus could be tickled.
‘One moment please, ladies.’ Mark strode across the room, and bent into the eyeline of the video link.
‘Good morning, Mark. I’m sorry; I hadn’t realised you were there.’ Candice’s face lit up, leaving no one in any doubt as to how attractive she thought the owner of Parker Software was.
‘I’ve just arrived, sweetheart.’ Mark oozed charm at Anya’s American associate. ‘Could you be an absolute star and give me a brief breakdown of sales figures for the last quarter your end?’
Anya could have cried as Clara’s digits increased their pace. As she struggled to keep her body still from the waist up, her arse squirmed and her shoulders tensed. She felt like some kind of sinister ventriloquist’s dummy as her upper body stiffened, a look which, at an executive level, could so easily be interpreted as lack of confidence, and therefore weakness. If she wasn’t careful Candice would be putting the word about that she was cracking up. Given half the chance, Anya knew she would be on the next plane to the UK, kicking her out, so she could work with Mark instead.
Gathering herself together, doing her best to blank out what was happening to her below desk level, Anya snapped back into PA mode. ‘Actually, that would be very helpful for me as well; but if you wish for some time to gather that information, then I am happy to schedule another call tomorrow?’
‘Well, I can help a little now.’ Candice addressed Mark rather than the PA. Normally Anya would have been offended, but today she was simply relieved to have the impetus taken away from her for a minute, so she could take the opportunity to lift her buttocks from the chair, allowing Clara easier access to her backside. Instantly, Clara shuffled a digit inside her anus, and Anya trapped her girl’s finger and right arm beneath her, successfully limiting the source of the sensually distracting motion around her groin.
Undetected, however, Clara’s left hand continued its adventure by running up Anya’s legs, dancing only the tips of her fingers over the exposed flesh, making Anya shiver, causing the inserted finger to burrow deeper into her backside.
As Candice and Mark discussed import and export figures, Anya found it harder to remain centred on them, her mind drifting more and more to the curled-up creature beneath the desk.
‘Can you confirm that for me please, Anya?’ Mark’s voice snapped Anya back to attention. She was suddenly convinced by the way he and Candice were staring at her that this was at least the second time he’d asked her that question.
She knew there was no point in bluffing; they were both too shrewd for that. ‘I’m sorry, I allowed myself to be distracted. Can you repeat that, please?’
‘Sorry, Anya, I don’t have the time.’ Mark was brusque, and he turned his face back to the video link, treating Candice to his most disarming smile, ‘I must apologise for my PA’s behaviour, Candice. This unsatisfactory situation will be cleared up. Do you have time for another link meeting tomorrow?’
‘Certainly Mark, about 3 p.m.?’
Anya bristled silently, noticing that Candice hadn’t even referred to her diary, and privately hoped she’d find she was already busy and would have to reschedule, and therefore embarrass herself.
‘I’ll speak to you then. Many thanks, Candice; until tomorrow.’ Mark clicked off the link, and the room went deadly quiet…
****
Available in paperback or as an e-book, The Voyeur can be purchased from-
****
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
Don’t forget to come back tomorrow!!
Happy reading everyone,
Kay xx
August 3, 2014
Day 8-Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: Yes Ma’am
Welcome to the second week of my trawl through my erotica archive, and Day 8 of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters blog series!
Today I am bringing you half of a long story from my Fem Dom anthology Yes Ma’am.
This collection is what many think of as pure Kay Jaybee - that is to say – the six stories within Yes Ma’am are of the S&M/BDSM genre. As you can imagine, it was tremendous fun to write…
Here’s a bit of an appetite whetter from the tale entitled Dear Claire….
Dear Claire
She was sure they were having sex. The tell tale bumps and thumps, not to mention the heavy duty groans coming through the thin bedroom walls, had been driving Ali mad for at least half an hour.
Having been invited by Claire for a girlie chat and sleepover, Ali was incensed that Rick had crashed their private party before it had even got started. It doesn’t help, Ali thought as she gave up trying to drown out the muted sounds from the neighbouring room with her pillow, that I’ve had the serious hots for my best friends’ partner for months now.
Escaping to the bathroom, Ali took her time getting showered and dressed. She was surprised to find that when she headed into the kitchen twenty minutes later, Claire was already there, fully dressed, and slipping on her coat and shoes.
‘I’m popping out to grab some stuff for breakfast. Could you be an angel and take Rick a coffee in bed?’
Without giving Ali time to reply, Claire disappeared into the early morning drizzle, leaving her friend with her palm frozen on top of the kettle. The last thing she needed was to see Rick all relaxed and rumpled from sex in someone else’s bed.
Rather than sorting the coffee, Ali left the kitchen, and banged hard on Claire’s bedroom door, ‘The coffee will be in the kitchen Rick.’
Ali hadn’t expected much more than a grunted reply. After all, Rick wasn’t one of life’s communicators. Even Claire agreed that he was only really useful for sex and unscrewing particularly tight jar lids. Yet, the silence from beyond the door was almost eerie. There should have at least been the muffled noises of him shuffling about the bed, or moving around the room hunting down his socks.
A ripple of uncertainty shot through Ali as she stood there. Claire had told her to take the coffee in to him, and now she thought about it, the request had been rather definite. Almost an order. With a final call of, ‘Rick! Do you want coffee?’ Ali inched the door ajar as she repeated her knock.
The reason for Rick’s lack of response was immediately apparent. Ali’s mouth slammed shut. She didn’t know where to look first. All she could think, as she hovered immobilised in the doorway, her eyes roaming with pussy clenching leisure over Rick’s tied frame, was that Claire had intended her to find him like this. She evidently had more in common with her friend than she’d previously thought.
Rick was stood side on to the end of the bed; his legs positioned about half a metre apart. A solid metal shackle, fastened to the leg of the bed frame, surrounded and connected each ankle. He was effectively pinioned to the spot.
His arms were secured behind his back with a pair of leather cuffs, and his dangerous brown eyes were hidden beneath a heavily padded strip of black material, which also covered his ears. Ali realised that he hadn’t even heard her calls. And even if he had been able to hear her, the hard ball gag wedged between his teeth would have prevented him from responding.
With heart pounding disbelief, almost on tiptoe, Ali walked towards the man who haunted her dreams, not sure whether to visit his front or back view first. She opted for his rear.
Her surprise at finding Rick bound and helpless paled into insignificance compared to the shock of what her emerald green eyes spied as she observed his tight arse. On the right buttock, tattooed in tiny neat red script, were the words ‘If I don’t obey my mistress, I will suffer.’
The evidence of this suffering was obvious. Across his butt cheeks and the top of his legs, old welds and bruises littered his skin. An image of Claire bedecked in black leather entered her mind. It wasn’t difficult to picture her whipping her lover for a whole host of unknown crimes.
Reaching out a hand, Ali hovered it in front of his scarred flesh. Her damp knickered desire at odds with the fact that she was about to touch her friends lover. Yet, Claire had set this up. The more Ali thought about it, the more she knew it was okay, and the idea that Rick might not know it was her, only increased her body’s nervous frisson. In fact, until she touched him, he wouldn’t know anyone was with him at all.
Reverently tracing the healing line of a past lash, Ali experienced a rush of adrenalin fuelled pleasure run down her spine and tickle her snatch.
Aware that he was not alone, Rick’s head twisted left and right, his senses straining to work out where his unseen companion was. Ignoring his flailing, Ali knelt as close as possible to the tattoo. Inhaling the aroma of masculinity, her sharp turquoise fingernails followed the loops of calligraphy.
From her crouched position, Ali could see Rick’s balls. Passing a hand through his rigidly immobile legs, she teased his scrotum, enjoying the increased tensing of his leg muscles. Suddenly her fingers met a new and unexpected texture.
Moving around him quickly, Ali found herself facing the most solid dick she’d ever seen in her life, all neatly done up in a bright red ribbon. Two small silver keys were attached to either end of the garland, both presumably corresponding to the locks at his ankles and wrists. Ali’s final doubts about betraying Claire dissolved in an instant. The bow adorning his shaft was presenting Rick as if he was a gift.
Without wasting time wondering how her friend had worked out she fancied Rick, Ali began to act. Her tits felt so swollen that she just had to undo her bra. Threading it from beneath her shirt, leaving the cotton fabric flapping open over her breasts, she stalked around the room, studying the three sides of Rick she could easily get to.
Placing the flat of both palms on his chest, Ali inhaled the particularly salty sweat and desire dripping scent of the trapped male. Sliding her hands downwards, she made sure her nails scraped his flesh. Rick’s feet twitched a little, and his wrists rattled against the short chain that joined the leather cuffs. Ali wondered what he was thinking, and if Claire had told him she’d be coming to visit him. Something told Ali that he didn’t know, and to hold back from revealing her presence; to have some anonymous fun while she could. She had total freedom, and suddenly the months and longing to spank this guy until he begged her to stop was too much.
Turning to the mess on the desk in the corner of Claire’s bedroom, Ali picked up a ruler, and without hesitation, began to swipe it against Rick’s buttocks, paying particular attention to the tattoo, aiming one hit at a time at each of the individual letters.
Swaying with every strike, Rick’s feet stayed planted against the plush red carpet, as fresh pink blotches spread across his buttocks.
Pausing for breath, Ali listened to the faint murmurs of sound escaping from the corners of Rick’s mouth. Returning to his front, she licked away the saliva that had gathered around the rubber guardian. Her right hand snaked down Rick’s front; fingertips lingered above his naval for a second, before Ali tugged at one end of the ribbon, releasing his cock from its tight knot.
Ensuring that the satin fabric caressed his skin, she snaked it up his body, tying the ribbon and keys loosely round his neck for safe keeping. Then, knowing she couldn’t get what she most wanted while his mouth was muzzled, Ali undid the ball gag and cast it to one side.
Gasping and spluttering, Rick’s tongue swept over his dry lips. Quickly, Ali placed her index finger firmly over his mouth, her intention that he shouldn’t talk very clear. Then, she pushed his shoulders forward. With his arms secure behind his back, and his legs stuck, there was no way he could kneel down, but he could bend forward, which he did.
Hastily divesting herself of her trousers, so she was just stood in her knickers and open shirt, Ali pulled her belt from her jeans. A new hot pulse of power surged through her as the first strike met the top of his thighs, and a bellow of pain exploded from his mouth. It had been way too long since she’d treated a man like this. She felt high and all powerful, an empress of debauchery. Her pussy twitched and contracted with the moans and groans that issued from his mouth. Seeing a strong man hogtied was one thing, but hearing how much she was hurting him was what did it for Ali.
Her eyes kept straying to the tattoo. It fascinated her. She wondered if Claire had ordered its addition to his fit body, or if it was a delicious remnant of a previous relationship.
Stepping away from him, leaving Rick uncomfortably bent double, his strong stomach muscles working overtime, Ali searched Claire’s desk once more.
Smiling with satisfaction, she twirled the pen she’d found like a weapon. Levering Rick back upright, Ali bought the black biro to his left bicep. Pressing hard, so he was aware of every stroke of the pen, she began to write,
Dear Claire,
Thank you for your thoughtful gift. I guess you know me even better than I thought you did.
Love Ali
Breaking off with a viciously applied full stop, she briefly admired her work, before moving on to Rick’s thigh.
Dear Claire,
I have long dreamed of torturing your lover. I love the tattoo and previous whip marks. I hope you don’t mind the additions I’m about to make.
Love Ali
Again she pushed the pen nib hard, watching as Rick’s toned skin darkened with the pressure of her writing. With each dotted ‘i’ and each crossed ‘t’ Rick flinched and sighed, his confined reactions adding to her own arousal.
Moving to his annoying perfect six pack; Ali began to write once again.
Dear Claire,
Do you favour a whip or a cane?
Love Ali
Dear Claire,
Your lover’s dick is gorgeous
Love Ali
Dear Claire,
I have already tanned his arse. Now I’m going to smack his balls. I’m going to scratch his skin, I’m going to force my tit into his mouth and make him suck until he begs…
Ali wrote on and on, listing all the fantasies she’d ever had, every image that had inspired her midnight dreams. Then, when there was no clear skin left on his torso, Ali progressed to his back. Finally, when no bare skin remained north of his waist, she threw the pen to one side, and breathlessly returned to Claire’s bedside chest of drawers, convinced that would be where she’d find what she wanted to play with next. She was not disappointed.
Picking the short white cane from a tangle of her friend’s silky underwear, Ali trailed it through her fingers…
****
If you would like to find out what happens next, or discover what other Fem Dom tales are tucked away inside Yes Ma’am’s e-pages, it is available from Xcite, Amazon, and all good e-retailers
****
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
See you tomorrow for another tasty taster…
Happy reading,
Kay xx
August 2, 2014
Day 7- Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: Digging Deep
I can’t believe that were at the end of week one already! As it’s Sunday, let’s take a step away from the BDSM, and have a touch of erotica romance, with some Digging Deep.
Based (loosely!!!) on my own adventures as an archaeologist in Tunisia many years ago, this novella was immense fun to write. Here’s the first chapter to whet your appetite…
Chapter One
Irritably adjusting her wide-brimmed hat for the third time in as many minutes, Dr Beth Andrews felt the sting of the African sun sear the back of her neck through the tresses of her long, ginger hair.
She never dreamt she’d miss the stubborn, muddy clay of the British earth she was used to hunting through in her search for archaeological data, but the uncooperatively fine white sand of North Africa was enough to try the patience of a saint.
Throwing down her brush in overheated exasperation, Beth thought fondly of her excavation trowel. Her tool of choice had quickly been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand, and a job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the Ancient Roman bath house site in which she worked backfilled in on itself with every sweep of her light bristled brush.
It had been a dream come true for Beth when she’d been selected to lead the University of Wales’s excavation team, digging the sprawling Ancient Roman city of Lepti Major on the outskirts of Sousse in Tunisia. She had longed to experience new exotic sites and see new exotic sights. The chance to uncover stunning mosaics and city roads that hadn’t been trodden for 1000 years was an opportunity she’d had no intention of letting pass by.
The fact she’d be sharing responsibility for the site with her archaeological hero, the unimaginatively named Dr Harrison Harris from Colorado, an American academic who’d been the subject of many of Beth’s private fantasies since she’d fallen in love with his work, not to mention the photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.
Flicking her eyes covertly over towards Harrison, Beth averted her attention away from the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what the site’s previous supervisor had said about working in Africa’s extreme temperatures. “Scalding by day, and freezing by night”. Linda had warned Beth that her freckle-spotted, sensitive flesh would loathe being either fried or frozen just as much as her archaeological brain would relish the challenge of constructing a city from its remains.
Beth hated the fact that Linda had been right. She’d never been rendered so sweaty, not to mention so blotched with extra heat-induced freckles, in her life. There couldn’t have been a centimetre of her body that hadn’t got a fresh cluster of beige dots on it. After only a week under the sun, it was becoming a struggle to hold on to her generally calm approach to life, and Beth was finding that her temper, which rarely flared in the UK, was on a permanently short fuse.
What got to her most was that none of her colleagues seemed to be suffering at all. They were all happily tanning as they worked, and sleeping off their exhaustion with ease at night.
It hadn’t taken Beth more than a few hours of digging in the unshaded bath house on her first day to see that a survival technique was required to prevent the elements disrupting her professional judgement. She tried thinking about work, home, rain, and even walks in the snow as she worked, but only one thing successfully diverted her attention from the exposure of her unusually pale flesh to the elements, and that was to allow her mind to fill with erotic scenarios and fantasies, while her hands got on with the job in hand.
This specialised amusement had the benefit of taking her mind off the sun that managed to scald her back even through three layers of thin cotton, and had the added bonus of warming her at night. Lying on her thin camping mattress, Beth would recall all she’d pondered during the day, engendering an ardour between her thighs that her fingers deftly maximised, leaving her physically warmer and bodily sated, and thus making it easier for her to fall asleep.
At first, Beth had been determined that Harrison would not feature in her erotic musings. Her resolve had not lasted long, however, and although she did her best to make the men in her sexy survival scenarios anonymous, the American’s face crept in with increasing frequency.
Manoeuvring a layer of burning sand from one side of her section to the other, Beth considered her colleague. His reputation as an expert in Roman archaeology was renowned. Beth had never dreamt she’d ever meet him, let alone work with him as an equal. His knowledge and academic intellect had been enough to make her heart flutter for years. Yet what Harrison was like in reality was not at all how she’d assumed he’d be.
She’d envisaged him as being chatty, tall, slim, dark-haired, and weather-tanned. He’d probably wear glasses for reading, and be forever clad in T-shirts and large-pocketed shorts as he leapt around excavations like a gazelle.
In fact, she’d hardly heard Harrison’s distinct Colorado accent. He seemed to prefer his own company to that of the group. When he did talk to Beth, he called her “doll,” which made her feel like a lump of mass-produced, animated plastic.
Harrison was about 5 foot 7, not the 6 foot plus she’d pictured, and his spiked hair was a sun-kissed blond and not brown. His build was stocky and muscular, his bare arms and legs permanently gritted with granules of sand, and although he moved with a speed which would have been the envy of any gazelle, he managed to proceed around the site somehow without making a sound.
The problem is, Beth thought as she traced the outline of what she suspected might be a Roman drain gully, I built up an image of him based on a book cover’s black-and-white out of date headshot, and I was way off.
She’d been right about Harrison wearing knee-length shorts, though. Everyone on the dig wore such shorts, except for the stick thin, heavy-chested blonde on the American team, who might as well have been wearing knickers her shorts were so scanty. Beth sighed as she looked down at her own attire. A protective covering of baggy clothing shrouded her limbs, and her porcelain neck was hidden beneath spirals of her ginger hair, which glowed as if she’d been hit by radiation rather than African sunlight.
Ryan wasn’t helping either. The most charismatic of her students had been so enthusiastic on his first morning that he’d headed to the site before everybody else, without waiting for Beth to detail where to dig. Consequently, he’d powered through the ground in an alarmingly gung-ho manner, neglected the recording of each strata-graphic layer and, with his six-pack and biceps shining against 120 degrees of sunshine, had crashed his shovel into the corner of a mosaic that had been safely protected by the landscape for hundreds of years, breaking off half-a-dozen exquisitely coloured tessera cubes, and rendering one of the depicted Medusa’s snakes partially headless.
Beth had gone ballistic. To his credit, Ryan had been mortified. He’d begged her not to tell anyone. For the sake of the university’s reputation, not to mention her fear that Harrison would take one look at her careless student, assume she was no good at supervision, and send her home, she had agreed it would be their secret. Ever since, however, Ryan had been driving Beth mad with his attempts to make it up to her at every opportunity.
Only that morning he’d lent so close to Beth as he informed her he was going to make up for his blunder that his soft Welsh tones had vibrated against her skin. His manner was so blatantly suggestive that she hadn’t been able to prevent the inappropriate smile that had very briefly crossed her lips.
Picking up her dustpan and brush, Beth stroked away the grains of sand that sat between her and her judgement as to whether the lines being revealed were part of the bath house drainage system or not. Expertly tracing the changing colours in the freshly uncovered ground, Beth, confident that her theory was correct, and that the ancient shadows of the gully she could see could be followed across the ground with ease, readopted her technique to deviate her attention from the cruel climate, while her fingers worked the earth.
What exactly is Ryan offering? she wondered. A sneaky snog behind the equipment cupboard? A cooling down of my chest with his tongue? Or is he more ambitious than that? Does he imagine me naked, face down, spread-eagled over an empty wheelbarrow with his cock between my legs; or see us together in the shower, washing off the worst of the sand that seems to be permanently stuck to my body while he shoves his dick down my throat?
For goodness’ sake, woman! she chided herself. Beth was surprised to find her chest, whose generous size she’d always loved before, but now heartily wished was small enough to go without the extra layer of material her bra provided, was becoming taut. Cross with herself, she shook her hair out from beneath her hat, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from her head. Having random erotic dreams might be the only thing that keeps you sane in this blast furnace – but you must not consider your students! Get a grip!
Briskly returning to the matter in hand, Beth cut through a layer of denser sand, wishing Ryan wasn’t working the section directly behind her. She daren’t turn to check he was all right like she did her other students. The last time she’d done so, she had caught him ogling her butt with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, which couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than the type of lustful intentions her own imagination had just so colourfully displayed to her. Ever since then, she had been more than a little self-conscious of the stretch of her cotton combats over her backside.
Crouching on her haunches, letting her eyes roam across the site as a whole, Beth struck Ryan from her mind, and began weighing up the significance of what she was excavating in relation to what else was opening up on the dig before her. As she leant in closer, a glitter of something just below the upper level of the sand caught her eye. Trailing her brush across the yellow surface, she mentally listed all the hidden things that might shine: mosaic tesserae, jewellery, votive offerings to the gods …
With a sharp scream, Beth stumbled backwards out of her square in a mad scramble to escape. Her find was none of the things archaeologists dream of uncovering. In the haste to get away, her left foot caught on the guide string that divided her metre section from the next. Tripping, she fell heavily backwards.
Flushed with an embarrassment that enflamed her already pinkened features, Beth found herself being scooped onto Ryan’s lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her.
Alerted by the unexpected shriek, the other students in the immediate vicinity began to gather round. Most of them, however, backed away the moment they saw what had caused Beth’s unusual lack of professionalism; except for the leggy American, who looked at Ryan in disgust, pointedly rolled her eyes at Beth, and returned to her work.
Beth didn’t have time to think about the blonde’s unsympathetic reaction. All her attention was on the bronze snake which hadn’t appreciated its home being disturbed by an inquisitive human. She was convinced it was staring straight at her, its tongue flicking, smelling the air around it in an accusatory manner.
Her initial shock subsiding, and abruptly sensible of where she was, and how it must appear to see one of the supervisors in the embrace of a student, Beth scrambled shakily to her feet. She wasn’t sure if she was more mortified by her public reaction to the snake, or by the fact that her body felt more than a little content at being cradled so protectively in Ryan’s arms so recently after her erotic ruminations had headed in his direction. ‘I’m sorry, everyone! That was a bit of a shock. I’m not good with snakes.’
‘Don’t worry about it, boss.’ Ryan ran a consoling hand down Beth’s cotton-covered arm, creating small prickles of uninvited lust that appeared on top of the prickles of fear already there, and sending them both tripping towards her crotch.
Rueing her kinky imagination, Beth took another step away from her student. Moving rather too fast, she collided with the stocky frame of Harrison Harris. He’d crossed the site on his ever-silent feet to see what all the fuss was about without her even noticing, causing Beth to jump out of her skin for a second time. ‘Honestly. Harrison, don’t you ever make a sound when you move?’
‘Hardly ever!’ He treated her to one of his Colorado smiles, making Beth suspect that he was privately laughing at her. ‘You OK, doll?’
Not stopping to waste her breath on asking him for the umpteenth time not to call her “doll”, Beth did her best to ignore the twinkle in Harrison’s eye that confirmed he found the situation hilarious, and settled for being grateful that he hadn’t vocalised his mirth in front of their charges.
‘I’m fine. The snake took me by surprise.’
Beth had no doubt this little episode would be site folklore by dinner time. She didn’t usually care about that sort of thing, and was always one of the first to laugh when she made a fool of herself, but now she found her face darkening with embarrassment in the face of her colleague.
‘Is that all?’ Harrison bent down and retrieved the brush Beth had abandoned in her hurry to move away from the snake. ‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m sure. Just shock. I don’t like snakes. I haven’t damaged anything, I hope.’
‘No harm done.’ Harrison shot Ryan a look which plainly said “this time”, making Beth wonder if the timing of the breaking of the mosaic had gone unnoticed after all. ‘Here you go, doll.’ He gestured to the creature. ‘He’s just a sand snake. Won’t do you any harm. I’ll move him somewhere safe.’
‘Thank you.’ Beth’s words came out rather weakly as the unfortunate creature was picked up and repositioned against a dune of previously excavated sand, into which it quickly disappeared. Seeing Harrison rehome the creature with no more fuss than if he’d moved a worm from a flower bed to a vegetable patch made Beth even more cross with herself for being so feeble in front of a man she’d so badly wanted to impress. She found herself babbling in explanation, ‘Insects I have no problem with. Spiders are cool. But snakes … I can’t stand them.’
This time Harrison did laugh openly, wiping one of his calloused palms across his forehead, smearing dirt into his spiky hair and knocking back his faded Stetson in the process. ‘You’re a regular Indiana Jones, doll!’
Keen to keep the general atmosphere light, Beth added, ‘Well. As long as I don’t get chased by any oversized boulders or attacked by a tribe of pygmies with blowpipes then I guess I can live with the comparison!’
Taking a hefty swig from her water bottle, she smiled, relieved that her ability to laugh at herself was finally reasserting itself after days of being diminished by the heat.
Harrison grinned as he strolled to his side of the dig. ‘Gotta love that dry English sense of humour, doll.’
Beth called after him, ‘Thanks for the snake removal, Harry.’
He kept walking as he corrected her. ‘Harrison. It’s Harrison, I told you. I don’t like being called Harry.’
She shouted at his retreating back, ‘And I don’t like being referred to as a doll. It makes me sound like a character in an American B-movie! Message received?’
Still laughing, Harrison didn’t look round, but held up a hand as if in defeat. ‘Gotcha, doll! Message received.’
Stepping back into her square, Beth looked at her watch. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning, and the heat was already making it feel as if someone was systematically pouring paint stripper across her shoulders. She could hear her students chatting happily as they worked. All except for Ryan, who was unusually quiet.
Beth sighed as she recalled Harrison’s glare towards Ryan, and realised it wasn’t just her rationale she’d left in the colder climate of home, but her common sense as well. It was time to come clean about how Ryan had messed up the mosaic and, more importantly, why she hadn’t reported the incident straight away.
Her decision made, Beth’s hands returned to working the ground, while her imagination speculated how it might have felt if Harrison had been the one she’d accidently sat on. Would I have wanted to get up quite so quickly? Her pussy twitched as if in confirmation, as her green eyes studied the Roman drain …
****
To grab a copy of Digging Deep in e-book format follow these links.
Digging Deep is also available in paperback form-
Happy reading!!
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
See you tomorrow!
Kay xx
August 1, 2014
Day 6 – Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: Not Her Type
Welcome to Day Six of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters!
Guess which book I’m featuring today…
When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.
One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?
When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type….
****
I’ve been thrilled with the reviews I’ve had for this story (despite it having the ability to shock some readers as the temperature of its chapters increases….!). If you’d like to read a few of them, just follow this link.
I thought I’d dive into the middle of the story for today’s taster…so here comes Chapter 8…
Tuesday – The Plan
I have a plan. I just hope I can hold my courage and see it through…
“I don’t have long.”
John’s familiar words spilled from his mouth as he crossed the threshold of Jenny’s home. Throwing a handful of DVDs carelessly across the sofa, his lips were on hers before she had the chance to speak, his hands diving up and under her mini denim skirt. A murmur of appreciation escaped him as his traveling fingertips discovered her lack of knickers and stocking tops. “Shit woman, you get hotter!”
Allowing him to fall into their regular pattern, Jenny let John lead her toward the armchair. “You wanton woman, you’re already wet aren’t you?”
“I knew you were on your way.” Jenny didn’t say anything else as she undid his buttons, pulling his belt from his trousers, loop by loop. Stroking the leather lovingly between her fingers she smiled, “Did I ever tell you that I love belts?” Without waiting for a response, Jenny freed his length and made a fist around his cock. She pumped him twice—as she’d pre-planned in the solo-quiet of the previous evening— before abruptly letting go of him and walking away.
John’s face was a vision of pure confusion as, with hands on her hips, Jenny calmly said, “Get on your knees, delivery man.” He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping free of his pants and dropping to the floor.
Moving forward, without a word, Jenny gestured for John to remove his t-shirt. Walking around him in a slow circle, she examined him from every angle. John had had things his own way for weeks. It was her turn now. The old Jenny had certainly been willingly submissive; someone who relished being led rather than leading, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have the occasional urge to turn the tables and make her partner beg for mercy. She just hoped she hadn’t lost her touch.
Taking a black scarf from a collection of supplies she’d hidden beneath the sofa, Jenny deftly tied his arms behind his back. Unable to hide her pleasure as she continued to study him, Jenny whispered, “There is truly nothing as fantastic to behold as a fuck-me handsome man without power.”
Kneeling before John, she saw that his wide, dark brown eyes were watching her intently. Kissing each of his eyelids, Jenny collected a blindfold from its hiding place and, with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows and a teasing waggle of her fingers, plunged him into darkness. As John opened his mouth to speak, his favorite customer placed a fingertip across his lips. “No talking. Yes?”
John nodded obediently.
Viewing her enslaved lover, Jenny stroked his chest, enjoying the light spring of his hair as it tickled her palms. She knew she was going to make John late for the remainder of his rounds, but she didn’t care, and was going to make sure that he didn’t either.
Reveling in her unprecedented freedom, Jenny let her skirt fall to the floor, her memory teeming with images of their previous animal coupling in the back of his lorry. Her knees and backside still bore the marks of their frantic encounter.
Discarding her shirt and freeing her breasts, she made sure the cotton material caressed John’s tattoos, cleverly letting him know that she was undressing. Jenny placed her hands on John’s shoulders, pushing him so that he was face down on the beige carpet, his hands bound behind him, his arse in the air.
Beginning at his feet, Jenny began a thorough survey of his whole body by stroking a silk handkerchief over his ankles, making John writhe under its tickling touch. Moving it stealthily up the back of his legs, she could taste the sharp tang of tension that infused the room.
He squirmed under her touch. Jenny could tell he was trying to anticipate her next move while struggling not to speak, and she smiled to herself as she dragged the gentle weapon of torture up behind his knees.
By the time Jenny approached the rounded cheeks of his magnificent arse, John’s breathing was ragged, and his tethered hands were clenched together with the effort of not pleading with her to speed up.
Completely absorbed in her task, alternating between both light and firm pressure, Jenny smoothed every inch of his back, his bum, and his sides with the handkerchief, making John flinch and whine until, as she reached his neck, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer, “Oh hell girl, I…”
Cutting through John’s sentence, Jenny said, “As I said earlier, I am very fond of belts. I particularly like the marks they leave behind when they bite the flesh. That sort of blotched, fuzzy, pink patchwork pattern.”
Winding the leather strap around her wrist before she took aim, Jenny let a gentle smack land against John’s butt. His sigh encouraged her, and she began to increase the power behind her strikes. Quickly building up a rhythm, Jenny ignored the growing crescendo of mixed wincing pleasure and protests that shot from his lips as she created a pleasing criss-cross of gridlines on her courier’s taut ass cheeks.
Stopping abruptly, hoping she’d made enough of an impression on his backside for him to feel her presence for the rest of the day, Jenny ordered John to sit up.
She lifted his chin, gave him a lingering kiss, and instructed him in no uncertain terms to shift onto his back. John, his lips pressing together, moved awkwardly, his arms trapped uncomfortably beneath him.
Resuming her delicate torture, Jenny began to work the fabric from his feet and up his legs, watching with fascination as his dick stirred. The courier was trying his best to obey her commands, to resist the urge to turn the tables and ravage her. Jenny—torn between being satisfied with his endurance, and wanting to take his obedience further—struggled with her own increasing arousal and fought to maintain control.
As the handkerchief approached his balls, Jenny cruelly skipped the area, moving onto John’s navel and chest, smiling to herself as his whole body shook with disappointed tension. Focusing on his nipples, Jenny rubbed the material over each one. At first gently, and then scraping her nails viciously across the sensitive flesh. His brow furrowed as his concentration became more fixed.
Only when another moan escaped him did she withdraw from his chest and head south. Wrapping the silken cloth around John’s shaft, Jenny pulled it taut, dragging the loose ends of it along his testicles, investigating every section of his scrotum with delicately precise attention.
Glancing up at his chest, Jenny could see the telltale blotching of scarlet dapple his skin, and knew he was close to coming. Her own need was also almost at breaking point, and she knew the time had come to put them both out of their blissful misery. Teasing a finger over his mouth to remind him to remain quiet, Jenny maneuvered John’s body into a cross-legged sitting position, and undid his binds. Then, picking up his hands, she placed them over her breasts while inhaling the delicious aroma of his body, which smelled of hard work with a pleasant undercurrent of sweet sweat.
Instantly, John began to mold them with his palms as Jenny fished a condom from her optimistically purchased supply. Easing herself onto him, Jenny slapped his legs sharply whenever he tried to move with her. At an agonizing snail’s pace, she began to juice him, rising up and down, until she couldn’t take anymore.
Thudding suddenly against John’s lap with a massive acceleration of pace, Jenny slammed against his length, until the full impact of his climax surged in an urgent rush. Ripping away the blindfold as she continued to move, Jenny peered into her delivery man’s eyes. John stared back with a desire so intense, his expression alone acted as the final stroke for her own muscle-gripping orgasm.
I made him over half an hour late for his rounds. He says he’ll forgive me, but that I’ll have to be punished for holding him up and making his bum sore. He has finally taken my phone number. I am to wait for a text with instructions on it. I also have to hunt out some really old clothes. I wonder why?
****
Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man is available from Amazon UK, Amazon.com, and all good paperback, Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Kobo suppliers.
****
Hope you enjoyed todays delivery of courier kink!!
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
Come back tomorrow for a spot of archaeological action…
Happy reading,
Kay xxx
July 31, 2014
Day 5 – Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: The Circus
It’s Day Five of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters series- and we’re off to The Circus!
The Circus, is total BDSM…This circus provides a very different and erotically dark evenings entertainment…there are NO clowns…
One hundred quid a ticket!
Carrie still couldn’t believe Scott could afford to pay so much to secure her a seat in the small, run-down theatre. It wasn’t as if she was even guaranteed any action. Everything was deliberately uncertain. But then, as he had assured her, that was part of the attraction.
Perspiration was dotting down the back of her neck, and the more Carrie thought, the more she wondered if perhaps she didn’t actually want anything to happen. That it might be better just to watch, better not to win the lottery that would change her from being a mere observer of events to a prime player in the evening’s entertainment.
Even though the room was packed, every thinly covered velvet seat taken, no one looked at anyone else. No one regarded their neighbour. No one gave a friendly smile of greeting as they waited for something to happen. All eyes were focused towards the stage. There was a hushed buzz to the neglected theatre, as if the ghosts of a thousand performances had been trapped within the walls.
In the centre of the stage sat a collection of left over props from dramas long past. At first glance it appeared to be merely abandoned clutter, but as Carrie examined the items more shrewdly, she began to suspect that everything had been carefully and cleverly placed.
An oak coffee table and bench supported two legs of an iron-framed double-bed, which was devoid of either linen or mattress. Next to the sloping bed, heaped to the left side, a pile of old wooden chairs were haphazardly stacked. On the opposite side was a fallen umbrella stand, apparently tipped over by the weight of the walking sticks, canes, and what Carrie suspected were Victorian style shooting sticks. She felt her pulse quicken. You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out what that lot could be used for.
Carrie could feel the heat of her skin prickle beneath her chestnut ponytail. She sat wishing that Scott hadn’t been called away on yet another dire work-related emergency, and that he could be there with her. More than a little self-conscious, she fidgeted with her outfit. Playing safe, she’d decided to wear black. Black thigh length boots, black pleated mini skirt, black stockings, and a black chest hugging lace-up basque, with strings that only just managed to conceal the pale freckled chest over which it had been stretched. She knew she looked like a slutty walking cliché. But then again, in this place, at this time, that was entirely the point.
The unnervingly tinny music that had been droning from a speaker in the far corner of the room abruptly stopped. Carrie could feel the tension in the theatre double, and for the first time she allowed herself a fleeting survey of the other members of the audience. The competition. An almost even split of about sixty men and women, all dressed as either Dominants or Submissives, all aged between about twenty-five and forty-five. The room rippled with erotic anticipation.
When Scott had told her about The Circus, the new show that had taken over the city’s long empty theatre, Carrie had thought it really was a circus. A family show with clowns, scantily clad acrobats, and the odd juggler. She had, to his amusement, waxed lyrical about how much she’d loved the circus as a child. She was soon disabused of her naivety.
Increasingly aware of the clammy sheen of nerves on her palms, Carrie still wasn’t quite sure how Scott had talked her into coming here without him. But her curiosity had gotten the better of her, just like he’d known it would. He had insisted that, with her private personal preferences, she would be in her element having her bum smacked in front of a select group of eroticists. Carrie wasn’t so sure. Having her ass roundly whipped by Scott in the sanctity of her flat while he ordered her to crawl around the floor was one thing — but this was different. This was voyeurism on speed. The almost animal gleam to her lover’s eyes however, when he told her how much he was looking forward to a blow-by-blow account of her experience, added an extra dimension to the tingle of fearful anticipation that played in her stomach.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a gravelly masculine voice bellowed over a speaker system that crackled from the effects of dust and lack of use. “Welcome to The Circus. I would ask you all to abide by your hosts decisions, and only mount the stage if and when you are invited to do so. Sit back and enjoy. It’s show time!!…”
****
The Circus is available as an individual e-book from Waterstones, Amazon, and all good e-retailers.
It is also available within the Immoral Views novella anthology -available as a paperback or e-book from Amazon, and all good retailers.
****
Hope you enjoyed that shot of theatre! Come back tomorrow for a touch of courier action…
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
Happy reading
Kay xx
July 30, 2014
Day 4- Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters: A Sticky Situation
It’s Day 4 of my blog special, and I’m softening the tone a little today, and sharing a little of my erotic romance, A Sticky Situation, which is part of the Cariad Romance collection.
Blurb-
If there is a paving stone to trip over, or a drink to knock over, then Sally Briers will trip over it or spill it. Yet somehow Sally is the successful face of marketing for a major pharmaceutical company; much to the disbelief of her new boss, Cameron James.
Forced to work together on a week-long conference in an Oxford hotel, Sally is dreading spending so much time with arrogant new boy Cameron; whose presence somehow makes her even clumsier than usual.
Cameron on the other hand, just hopes that he’ll be able to stay professional, and keep his irrational desire to lick up all the accidently split food and drink that is permanently to be found down Sally’s temptingly curvy body, all to himself.
It could be a very long week- unless Cameron can find a way of making Sally slop so much of her after show champagne, that he has no choice but to march her off and relieve her of her sodden clothing… He is sure that, if he could find a way to stop Sally resenting him taking her previous bosses job, then they could enjoy no end of sticky situations together…
This novella was inspired by my own total and non-stop clumsiness- and habit of dropping toast and marmalade down my front…
As the shower burnt its jet of water into his head and shoulders, Cameron scrubbed his body furiously with soap, trying to wash away all thoughts of Sally. It had been years since he’d let a woman get to him like this. What worried him most was that he didn’t just want to sleep with her. He actually wanted her to like him. This was new territory for Cameron James. As he stood there, beneath the steaming deluge, he couldn’t stop himself from envisaging exactly what he’d like to do with her.
He saw her bent at the end of his bed, waiting for him to kiss her firm arse.
He visualised her lying on her back, her legs wide open. Sally beaming up at him as he lowered himself onto her; her chest swollen and her nipples hard as he ate them, his thick cock sinking into her moist channel.
Cameron could almost taste her as he felt his dick go rigid where he stood, droplets of water cascading off it as, with eyes firmly closed, her saw his mouth coming to Sally’s indescribably soft mound. In his mind he drank from her, the heated water of the shower combining with her liquid, sending shockwaves of pleasure through them both as she tangled her fingers in his hair. Sally was moaning quietly, one hand leaving his head as she squeezed herself, playing her own fingertips across her beautiful almond tinted nipples.
Steadying one hand on the cubicle wall, Cameron’s fist came to his erection as his thoughts became more graphic, more urgent. He pumped slowly at first, as he saw Sally crouched next to him, the light pressure of her small palms pushing him to his feet so she could wrap her lips around his shaft. At first, she’d simply lick the tip enquiringly, as though she was trying a new flavoured ice cream for the very first time. Then, she’d speed up, lapping him with extended strokes, punctuating each move with a kiss to his balls; her nails discovering each inch of his hips and thighs.
Cameron’s whole frame shuddered, his wrist moving faster and faster along his length, the water almost forgotten as it pounded into his bent neck and ran down his back. Nothing mattered but the images in his head and the action of his hand. Sally had engulfed his cock in her mouth now. Sucking and teasing him out, almost stretching his pole, she was drawing him into her, until he was securely within her throat.
He could feel his orgasm rising, his brain flashing with differing shots of Sally as he wanked, of her lips at his dick, of his face between her legs, or her wet dress, clinging to the outline of her curves so temptingly, of how he’d marvelled at his ability not to grab her in the lift and tell her she was driving him nuts, and that he was a nice guy really. Of him slurping fallen food from her neck, of kissing her mouth, her breasts, her thighs; his hands everywhere as he stared into her beautiful emerald eyes.
As spunk spattered against the side of the shower unit’s tiles, Cameron’s eyes flew back open, his chest letting out a pent up exhalation of air via a guttural groan through his throat. ‘Enough,’ he panted into the small rectangular space. ‘Time to stop dreaming and actually do something about this!’
****
Available in a short paperback, as an individual e-book, or within the novella collection, Hungarian Rhapsody, A Sticky Situation can be purchased from Xcite
Or you can buy from Amazon UK, Amazon.com, and all other e-book and paperback retailers.
COMPETITION ALERT! At the end of the fortnight you’ll have a chance to win any of the stories featured you like in e-format! More news on Day 14!!
See you tomorrow for more kinky reads…
Happy Reading
Kay xx
Kay Jaybee's Blog
- Kay Jaybee's profile
- 61 followers
