• Home
  • Archive by category 'Guest Blogger'
  • Page 20

Archive for ‘Guest Blogger’

Sarah Blake: WLTM Handsome Prince… Seeking the Truth Behind the Fairy Tale Hero

Sarah Blake 8I can’t tell you how excited I am to have the totally awesome Sarah Blake as my guest today. Sarah is a playwright, theatre director and story teller, and founder of Cabinets of Curiosity. I had the pleasure of seeing Sarah’s fabulous play, Five Clever Courtesans, in London before it toured the Edinburgh Fringe, the Brighton Fringe and the HoffART Theatre in Germany. Most recently I’ve enjoyed her wonderful Fairy Tales for Adults, giving a whole different view on Happy Ever After and the story behind the stories. An audiobook of her trilogy of Fairy Tales For Grown Ups is now available to download worldwide from Amazon, iTunes and Audible. For further information, visit: www.soundscurious.net 

 

 

Welcome, Sarah! Do tell! 

 

By Sarah Blake

Sara Blake 5“Some day, my prince will come,
Some day, I’ll find my love
And how thrilling that moment will be!
When the prince of my dreams comes to me!”

So Snow White sings, in the Disney version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. The lyrics are simple, yet potent – in one short verse, they seem to echo back all the wistfulness and longing that we feel when we are waiting for… what, exactly?

Who, precisely, is this Prince of our Dreams? And why, even now, is he still seen as a shortcut to a happy ending?

The Prince is a standard figure in most fairy tales – and in stories that have a female protagonist (such as Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast, or Sleeping Beauty), he is the ultimate goal – both the readers and the heroine know she has made it to happy-ever-after, once she has met and married him. But even outside the fairytale world, the figure of the Prince pervades contemporary folk and pop-culture genres – rom-com films, romantic novels and tv dramas are full of him. He remains the ultimate symbol of wish-fulfillment, and with the exception of a few surface tweaks, his persona has changed very little over the past few decades, in spite of the rise of feminism. So why does he persist? What drives contemporary storytellers – as well contemporary audiences – to continue to conflate the Prince with happy ever after?

Sarah Blake 1The psychologist Carl Jung theorised that all standard fairy tale characters (or ‘archetypes’) – such as the Prince, the Witch, the Stepmother, etc. – actually represent aspects of our subconscious selves. Viewed in this way, every story can be seen as the reflection of a person – and the interplay and conflict that occurs between the characters within the story mirrors the interplay and conflict that occurs within our own minds, as our subconscious traits and desires vie for dominance. In Jungian terms, the Prince/Hero archetype represents our desire to seek out a better way of life and find greater fulfillment – but practically-speaking, what does this mean?

Forget the fairy tales for a moment – in reality, for hundreds of years, women had no right to work, own money or property, or to engage in politics and vote. In other words, they had no power over their own fates whatsoever. The only way they could attain any degree of influence, privilege, security, comfort, or social status was by marrying well – and so

Sarah Blake 6literally, marrying the Prince (or the closest you could get to one) was your only chance to better your circumstances – both practically, in the material sense of having more wealth and security, but also personally, because society judged your worth by your husband – and all too often, society’s external judgements were (and continue to be) internalised within women’s own minds.

Today, women can and do seek independence. They can make their own fortunes and fulfill their own destinies. They can, theoretically, do anything a man can. Yet we still live in a patriarchal society. Any cursory glance at employment figures (where there is still a huge wage gap between men and women), the justice system (where the majority of female victims of sexual violence still see their attackers walk free), or the media (which still focuses unrelentingly on how women look, rather than on their characters or achievements) quickly demonstrates the inequality that still exists. So, too, do those societal judgements of women and the corresponding internalisations of self-worth that such judgements foster. And so, within a patriarchal society, the Prince remains an external symbol of internal desire, especially for women – because he represents a degree of privilege and freedom that most women can still only dream of. No matter how handsome he may be, it is rarely the Prince himself who is truly yearned for… rather, the privileges of liberty, autonomy and self-esteem that go along with him.

Sarah Blake 9The potency of the Prince as a representation of female desire is particularly heightened when we think of him in terms of romantic/sexual fulfillment. Even now, in our far less repressed age, women are still judged for their sexual appetites. They are frequently condemned as ‘sluts’ or ‘whores’ if they exercise their right to sexual liberty, or express their sensuality on their own terms – whereas similar behaviour in their male counterparts is often approved of by society at large, or merely shrugged off with an indulgent “boys will be boys” attitude. Women’s erotic lives are still all too often parcelled up with being looked at – being seen to be desirable, rather than having the autonomy and freedom to enjoy what feels desirable. So the Prince can also represent a woman’s license to roam freely, explore extensively and and enjoy (without fear of judgement) any and every erotic fantasy she can conjure. As long as an imbalance of power continues to exist between men and women, the Prince will always be there, representing a woman’s yearning for empowerment.

I would suggest that, for many women who sigh after a Prince-type hero – be it onscreen in a Disney Sarah Blake 2film, or within the pages of a romantic novel – what they are actually sighing for is autonomy and self-fulfillment. It might be sexual fulfillment, or intellectual, or economic, or social, or spiritual – or all of the above. The specific details of the desire don’t matter, so much as the desire itself. Whatever a woman yearns for, or feels is lacking in her life – freedom, self-knowledge, self-esteem, romance, adventure, recognition, a sense of connection – is what the Prince is there to provide. Historically, that has always been his role. And psychologically – while we continue to live within a patriarchal society – it remains so.

Viewed in this light, it’s easy to see why the Prince remains such a popular figure. However, this perspective also highlights the hazards for women who seek the fulfillment of all their desires through a literal prince – as well as for the men who find themselves unwittingly cast in that role. Whether you are male or female, patriarchal Sarah Blake 4expectations can place you in a trap, because the Prince was never meant to be real. He is an internal figure – an aspect of your own psyche – and finding your happy ending has as much to do with discovering and developing his characteristics within your own personality, as it has with finding another person to love. For far too long, women have been raised and encouraged by popular culture to view the Prince as a real, flesh-and-blood alpha male, who will swoop in and rescue them from all their troubles and worries. This is not only patronising to women, it is also extremely hard on men – after all, why should one flawed, fragile human be made to carry the full burden of another’s every hope and expectation?

Fortunately, fairy tales can provide us with a way past these traps and hazards. When viewed symbolically, what they teach us – at their deepest level – is that romance is only one aspect of joyful fulfillment and, ultimately, the only person who can rescue you, fulfill all your deepest desires and give you your happy ending is… yourself.Sarah Blake 3

This is the premise behind the three fairy tales in my own trilogy of stories – Fairy Tales For Grown Ups. The clue is in the title – they are stories for those of us who have been around the block a few times and are genuinely ready to help ourselves to a more balanced and fulfilling life. In some ways, they are very traditional tales – full of comedy, adventure, wit and, yes, even romance… fear not – the happy endings are still there! But I’ve also written these tales from a perspective of conscious awareness – so as well as serving to entertain, they can also be used as lights to illuminate the dark places in your mind and heart… and light up your path, as you venture forth into the deep forest.

Which path you decide to take, once you enter the forest, is up to you – and perhaps, like many a fairy tale heroine, you’ll discover that the path you choose end ups taking you somewhere completely unexpected. But whatever it is that you are wishing for – and no matter how you decide to pursue that wish – fairy tales are there to help you along your path. So is the Prince. He is waiting within you, ready to set forth on a perilous journey and brave unknown hazards, in order to find and fulfill your heart’s desire (whatever that might be). So, saddle up… and get ready for the quest of you life.

 

 

About Sarah Blake:Sarah Blake 7

 

Sarah Blake is a playwright, theatre director and storyteller. An audiobook of her trilogy of enchanted stories – Fairy Tales For Grown Ups – is available to download worldwide from Amazon, iTunes and Audible. For further information, visit: www.soundscurious.net

 

Three Authors Who Have Inspired Me as a Writer by Queenie Black

tourbutton_lovebites

First let me take you back to the beginning of time!

Queenie_Black_17th FebruaryWell almost.

I was a confident reader when I was four and I have never stopped reading since. One notable year (2010) I read 322 books/novellas .

No, I wasn’t doing a challenge and I haven’t managed to break that record since. Now I’m more discriminating and I probably average about 200 books a year.

I spent my teenage years in Greece and as an avid reader I was pretty much starved of reading material.  I could read Greek but it was a laborious process and the books available were mostly classics.  Luckily I had an English aunty out there who received a massive tea chest full of novels from the UK every year. It was a treasure trove of Mills and Boon, and historical novels by authors like Jean Plaidy and Georgette Heyer and I pretty much spent every summer from the age of fourteen reading through the tea chests.

I wasn’t picky. I read everything and I read everywhere.  On the balcony, on the bus, on the beach, it didn’t matter. I always had my nose in a book.

Out of all the authors I read there were many I absolutely adored and still retain affection for but two had a lasting impact on me.

The first is Mary Stewart. Her books contained suspense and classical and literary references that I found fascinating. Mostly though I loved her book because her heroines were quite strong women, often widowed but certainly not shrinking violets.  They weren’t kick ass, and they didn’t argue for the sake of it. They were quietly confident and capable of getting on with things.  I particularly liked her novel Madame Will You Talk which had a wonderful section where the hero chases the heroine across France. I loved that sequence- it made my juvenile romantic heart race.

The suspense, the excellence of her descriptions and her strong heroines intrigued me and I still don’t get tired of reading her stories. Nearly all of her books have a place on my keeper shelf.

My second greatest influence was Georgette Heyer. Her historical romances were detailed and she would transfer me to another place and time. Her heroines were also quite strong.

Bear in mind this was a time when it was quite OK for heroes in romances to put heroines over their knees and wallop them (and we’re not talking BDSM, we’re talking icky paternalistic chauvenism) or even slap their faces, so a strong heroine was not only a welcome change but also inspiring to fourteen year old me.  At the same time, both these authors knew how to write characters who could be vulnerable without wallowing in self-pity. One of my favourite Heyer books is The Devil’s Cub. Great story because the heroine shoots the hero.

I moved on in my tastes and spent a couple of years reading crime, horror and thrillers until I went back to romance, and then came across Erotica and erotic romance.  Here my eyes were opened to romances where sex and the sexual relationship were central to the story which was very graphic and contained explicit language.

Queenie_Black_17th February1I read quite a few of these authors- guzzled them to be honest, working my way through Lora Leigh, Annmarie McKenna and many others. The queen of all of them in my opinion, and the person who inspired me to write erotic romance, is Cherise Sinclair. I came across her books when I picked up Edge of the Enforcer, part of her Dark Haven series in which she explores ménage and BDSM, and I was hooked. It’s the way that she writes and her characters that draw me. Again, her heroines are strong and I particularly like the dynamics between the protagonists and the way she builds the sexual tension and develops the plot and the romance through the sexual relationships.  I love her understanding of the unique sexual preferences of the characters as well.

Overall these three authors have taught me about creating worlds, about strong female characters, and about sexual tension all combining to create believable and human journeys to the essential Happy Ever After.

I hope that one day I will be able to write with their level of skill.

What about you? Who are your favourite authors/ genres and why?

*****

Here is an excerpt from my new collection of short erotic stories Lovebites.

ELEVATOR MAGIC

“You know what? You can take your job and stick it.” Mad as hell I grabbed my purse and stomped out of the little cubicle I called my office. I was done here and I was never coming back and fuck the giving notice part.

The elevator always took ages to creak its way between floors and I could feel the stabbing pressure of what felt like a thousand eyes in my back. Of course they were all watching. They’d been waiting for something like this to happen for twenty months. Just then melodic chimes signaled the arrival of the executive elevator. The one that normal people like me are forbidden to ride in, the one for the exalted rich and the bosses who live in the penthouse. I wanted to escape the avid looks that were directed my way and, what the hell, what could they do anyway? Sack me?

So I stepped into it.

I turned and, just before the doors closed, got a good view of open mouths, staring eyes and was that…envy? It certainly looked like it from where I was standing. As the doors slid silently shut, I raised my hand and gave a little finger wave.

 

The car was bigger than my bedroom, and a thousand times more luxurious but I hardly noticed the mirrored walls and the thick-as-a-mattress carpet. My attention was caught and held by the two guys already in there, one on my left and one on my right.

My gaze darted between the two of them and I felt guilty colour sting my cheeks. I hadn’t expected company but I wasn’t objecting. These guys were fit and built. One dark-haired and smoooooth, the other blonde and just-got-in-out-of-the-wild rough.

And I knew them. Brandon Shaw and Mitchell Graham owned the company I work – ooops, scratch that – the company I used to work for. I’d met them at work events, like the Christmas party and the Halloween party and the Employee of the Year party. I’d seen them a couple of times from a distance. They always had a flock of female employees around them.

I’d heard people described as chick magnets but only realised exactly what it meant when I saw these two. I used to feel their magic pull yet always stayed away because initially I was in a relationship, and then afterwards was suffering from a broken heart and struggling to cope with a job where my ex was screwing a colleague. Pity my ex didn’t take a leaf out of these guys’ books – there was never any suggestion that they had slept with anyone from the company. Which meant in the end that there was a gentle rumor that they were a) gay, or b) didn’t like vanilla and went for the more exotic, with their tastes catered for elsewhere.

I positioned myself with my back to the wall and let my gaze slide over them. To my right was Brandon. He’d taken off his suit jacket and had it hooked over one shoulder. Beneath the fine fabric of his shirt I could see the hard muscle of a broad chest, arrowing down to a pair of narrow hips and a huge bulge… Oh man.

I licked my lips and dragged my reluctant gaze away to focus on his face. He was watching me scope him out. There was a hard predatory glint in his eyes. Heat speared through me from my cheekbones to my pussy, part embarrassment and part desire. I squeezed my thighs together to stop the growing ache.

I quickly glanced away and found myself checking out Mitchell on my left. He was slightly shorter than his partner, and seemed kinder and less predatory too. His eyes were a softer green, more jade than emerald. But his shoulders were as wide and he sported an identical erection. Were they lovers? A pity for womankind if they were gay. What a loss.

I shouldn’t be in the elevator with them in the first place but the new militant me with nothing to lose didn’t care. So instead of fixing my gaze on the floor and fighting the temptation to look again, I enjoyed the view. They put my slimeball ex to shame and my panties grew damp while they silently watched me. I wished that I was wearing something a little less conservative when the elevator jerked to a sudden halt.

Not a nice, slow, we’ve arrived kind of halt but the scary kind.

The lights went out.

Panic dug its claws into me, not letting go even when the emergency lighting kicked in.

“What’s happening?” I didn’t even try and keep the terrified squeak out of my tone.

“Hey,” Brandon said softly, “it’s going to be alright. They’ll have it fixed in no time.”

“It’s broken?” I hated the idea of being shut in closed spaces, and the car, despite its size and luxury, suddenly felt very small. I couldn’t bear to spend hours locked in here hanging over all that empty space. The walls closed in, my hands and feet went cold, and I struggled to breath.

“Now you’ve done it, Brandon.”

“Easy.” When had they got so close to me? I was crowded by two warm male bodies that smelt good. Having them so close, almost touching me, took my mind off the elevator.

“Rub her hands, Mitchell. Get some warmth into them, she’s freezing.”

Mitchell sandwiched my hands between his palms and rubbed hard. The movement distracted me, not because he was making my hands warmer, which he was, but because he kept bumping my breasts.  Awareness rushed through me and my nipples went hard as cherry stones and poked at my blouse. Brandon’s hands rested lightly on my hips but they might as well have been brands. I could feel every finger as if there were no clothing between us. Woodsy cologne, mingled with clean male musk, swirled around me. My pussy creamed and I couldn’t help it; my wayward body leant back until I was pressed hard against Brandon.

His cock, huge and promising, seared my lower back. I couldn’t prevent a small sound escaping. I felt my cheeks go hot. What must they think of me?

Mitchell’s expression was rich with satisfaction in the dim light.

“Shall we carry on distracting you, baby?”

I shivered, my panties drenched as my body answered the question for them.  Brandon nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath my ear. His voice rumbled right through my body as he asked, “Ever been double-fucked before?”

The crude honesty of his question embarrassed me and I couldn’t answer. Then I forgot what he asked because Mitchell dropped to his knees in front of me. His hands stroked slowly up the back of my thighs. They smoothed over stockings, and then paused when they reached my lacy garters.

*****

Love BitesBlurb and buy link:

Elevator Magic
A steamy encounter in a lift makes Cass the center of attention for two sexy men. Is it just hot sex for them or will Cass have to make some life-changing choices?

Immortal Longings
Not one, but two Greek gods in her bed. How’s a girl to choose? Must Zoe’s sensual holiday romance end in farewell, or will she try to make her own heaven on earth with two demigods?

Eleanor’s Choice
Eleanor explores the shadowy world of submission – her marriage depends on it. Will the Master give her an experience she can use to please her husband, or is it time to walk away?

Love Bites
Lonely Ella is mesmerised by the owner of a chocolate shop. Drawn into Lang’s rich, seductive web, she grows to fear as well as desire him. What is the secret he is hiding from her?
These four short stories contain too-hot-to-handle Greek gods, a sexy Vampire who might just turn out to be a killer, a Master who can wield a crop with artistry, and two delicious CEOs who know how to keep a woman happy. Oh, and chocolate, BDSM, MFM Mènage and sex in an elevator.
This collection of 4 stories contains explicit language and graphic erotic sexual content. It is intended for mature audiences 18 years of age or older.
Lovebites is available on Amazon: http://viewbook.at/lovebites

*****

Author bio:

I’ve been writing pretty much since I was able to read. I juggle fundraising for charities, family life and writing with varying success. My children have mostly flown the nest and I live in a small village in North Yorkshire, England with my husband and some chickens. I write in an old caravan in the garden where I can’t be tempted to procrastinate on the internet.

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/queenieblackauthor/?fref=ts

Twitter: @queenieblackwr1

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/queenie-black/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Lisabet Sarai discusses The Romance of Surrender

BlogTourButtonNew Release: The Gazillionaire & the Virgin

“Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned.”

*****

It’s very much my pleasure to be hosting Lisabet Sarai today on the blog tour for her latest novel, The Gazillionaire and the Virgin, a fab new BDSM novel you won’t want to miss. Lisabet has a great post, a sizzling excerpt and a truly delish giveaway you won’t want to miss out on! Read, enjoy, and comment to be included for the giveaway draw! Welcome, Lisabet! 

*****

“BDSM? Yuck!” I have the impression that this represents the reaction of some romance readers when someone offers them a title that includes Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, or Masochism. What is romantic about pain, suffering and humiliation? Why would anyone enjoy reading about whippings, spankings, restraints that contort the body into embarrassing and awkward positions, severe punishments that are administered in response to the tiniest lapse in obedience?

 

For me, the essence of a D/s relationship lies in the emotional bond between the dominant and the submissive. The physical trappings and conventional activities—the riding crop and the gag, the handcuffs and the nipple clamps, the whippings and the binding—are side issues, merely the methods chosen to express, explore, and strengthen the bond. Others may associate BDSM with humiliation, cruelty, abuse, and agony. In my view, BDSM is about devotion, commitment, trust, and ecstasy.

 

A caveat: not everyone agrees with me. (My husband would be amazed to hear me admit that!) Some readers prefer their BDSM rough, with an edge of real cruelty that would definitely limit my enjoyment. For some people, the objects of discipline themselves hold a fetishistic attraction. There’s also a tendency in some romance books to play with BDSM paraphernalia in vanilla relationships, where blindfolds and bonds function as sex toys to enhance the excitement of the participants.

 

The BDSM that I write, however, and that I enjoy reading, focuses primarily on the connection between the characters in the “power exchange”. What do I mean by “power exchange”? This D/s jargon refers to the fact that submissive voluntarily gives up control to the dominant. In return, the dominant accepts responsibility for the submissive’s well-being and ultimately, for his or her pleasure. The sub surrenders herself to the Dom, in devotion and trust. (For now I’ll assume a female submissive. I’ve written both male- and female-dominant tales, as well as some lesbian D/s, but it gets awkward to keep using multiple pronouns!)

 

The Dom can do whatever he wants with the sub; she has, after all, given her consent. He has the intoxicating knowledge that by taking what he desires, he will also give his sub what she most craves—the satisfaction of pleasing her master and the freedom to experience her most intimate fantasies of ravishment.

 

I’ve written books without any BDSM elements, but it seems I always come back to my first love. The more I write in the genre, too, the better I think I have become at expressing the nuances of these complex relationships. My new novel The Gazillionaire and the Virgin goes beyond stereotypes to portray what I believe is a very realistic D/s relationship—one that includes give and take, doubt and confusion, as well as ecstasy.

 *****

This post is part of my Gazillionaire and Virgin blog tour, running from February 1st to 15th. Leave me a comment on this post, including your email address, and I’ll enter you to win a $50 bookstore gift certificate (first prize) or a print copy of the new book (second prize). Visit all the stops for more chances to win. You’ll find the full list here:

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2016/01/blog-tour.html

 

BlogTourBanner

 

The Gazillionaire and the Virgin Blurb:

 

Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky is not a woman who lets pleasure interfere with business, but when she meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she can’t resist his geeky appeal. Though Theo’s knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience, he is Rachel’s first true Master—and the first man to truly touch her heart.

 

Contemporary BDSM erotic romance (Five flames)

Approximately 62,000 words, 240 pages in print

HEA ending

 

Quotes

 

“Lisabet Sarai writes the most beautiful erotic prose. Her stories tease at the senses and transport you to a world of sexual pleasure.” ~ Desiree Holt, queen of BDSM erotic romance and author of Forward Pass

 

“I’ve always been a fan—Lisabet Sarai’s erotic fiction is certain to captivate, dominate, and leave readers begging for more.” ~ Alison Tyler, best-selling author of erotic BDSM memoirs Dark Secret Love and Even Deeper.

 

Ebook Buy Links (Print coming soon!)

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01B76B95K/

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01B76B95K/

Barnes & Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin-lisbet-sarai/1123327821?ean=2940157884932

All Romance

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thegazillionaireandthevirgin-1974313-354.html

Kobo

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28766414-the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin

 

TheGazillionaireAndTheVirgin_400X Rated Excerpt The Gazillionaire & the Virgin:

I nearly step on her.

“Rachel! What the—”

She sits cross-legged on the carpet, half-inside my clothes closet, wearing one of my dress shirts,
unbuttoned, over her nakedness. Glossy magazines are scattered around her, their covers awash with female flesh—stripped, blindfolded, gagged, clamped, twisted into impossible positions, limbs wrapped in rope or leather, scarlet nipples bulging and sore, eyes full of terror and devotion. One of the publications lies in her lap, open to the Technicolor image of a woman strapped to a padded horse, with some anonymous hand buried to the wrist in her stretched asshole.

Oh God, no! I want to sink through the floor with shame. At the same time, my cock is like stone. “Rachel—um—it’s not what you think…”

She gazes up at me with a half-smile. “Oh? Really?” Her voice is mild. She sounds amused rather than shocked as she gestures at the masses of porn surrounding her. “Are you trying to tell me these aren’t yours?”

“Well—um—not exactly…”

“Quite a collection.” As she rolls onto her hip then rises to a kneel, she gives me an appraising look. “I’m impressed.”

“You’re not—not—disgusted?” I’m frozen in place, transfixed by embarrassment and lust. Her lush breasts jiggle as she approaches, still on her knees. I’m so hard it hurts.

“Not at all. This explains quite a lot.” She’s at my feet now, her chin tilted up so she can meet my eyes. Her tawny nipples peek out from the gap in my shirt. Coppery curls frame her angel’s face. “I finally understand, Theo.”

She purses her lips to blow a stream of hot air over my aching erection. My dick jerks. I almost come.

“Rachel—please—ah!”

“Mmm…” she hums around my cock, taking the length down her throat, just like the girls in my videos. I forget to be embarrassed. I forget I need a shower. Everything slips away except the juicy warmth of her mouth, the dance of her tongue, the unrelenting suction she applies as she bobs up and down on my shaft.

Oh my God! It’s almost too intense. I close my eyes at first, focusing on the unbelievable sensations. Soon, though, I have to look—it’s just so perfect. Rachel Zelinksy is on her knees! Sucking me like some eager Internet slut. She’s even got her hands clasped behind her back as she leans in to swallow me, as if I’d cuffed her.

Does she know what she’s doing to me? Is this part of her plan? I don’t care. I weave my fingers into her unruly hair and take over, using her mouth to get myself off. Almost immediately, she surrenders. Her lips go slack, stretching to accommodate me, and her jaw relaxes to accept my thrusts. She gags when I push deeper, but when I back off, she follows, burying her nose in my crotch. She wants this. She wants me to fuck her face as if I own her. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.

That knowledge is the detonator. I shudder and explode, flooding her mouth with cum. Her muscles work around my cock as she swallows, triggering another burst. Poor Rachel tries hard, but she can’t keep up with me. As I pull out, semen spills out between her swollen lips to dribble down her chin. Porn-inspired, I aim my still-spurting dick at her glorious tits, painting them with streaks of white.

When I’m finally finished, I collapse to my knees and take her in my arms, smearing my own chest with cum. “Oh, Rachel…” I don’t know what to say. Thank you? Im sorry? I just kiss her, deep and hard, hoping she’ll understand.

 

About Lisabet:

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

 

The Collared Collection — Kay Jaybee & K D Grace Together: Pre-Order Now

Collared bundleI can’t tell you how excited I am to be in serious cahoots with Kay Jaybee! It’s been a long time coming! (Oooh! You see what I did there?) Kay and I have been dreaming and scheming for ages about doing a joint project. We’ve been urged by our readers and have even spent a couple of nights in hotel bars before readings scheming and plotting something new. BUT for both of us time is always a major issue, and when that scheming led us to the alternate plan of putting The Voyeur and The Pet Shop together in a two-volume box set, The Collared Collection, we figured it was a great start. It’s such a pleasure to see our names together on a box set that contains two of our very favourite, and possibly our kinkiest works.

 

The Collared Collection is up for pre-order now, so nab yours early and enjoy all the kink and all the sizzle that much faster. You won’t regret it. And it’s totally my pleasure to offer you a little teasing taste of Kay Jaybee’s fabulous novel, The Voyeur, to tempt you.

 

The Collared Collection is a two novel boxed set from the pens of multi-award winning erotica writers, Kay Jaybee and Kd Grace .

 

Blurb The Collared Collection Box Set:S6304891
In The Voyeur by Kay Jaybee, wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of 13 fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite BDSM 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 the backs of his willing slaves, 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 what hold does Bridge’s gentleman’s club, Anya’s previous employer and a place she was delighted to escape from, have over Mark?

In order to find out, the girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they had left behind them all over again.

 

In The Pet Shop by KD Grace: In appreciation for a job well done, Stella James’s boss sends her a pet, a human pet. The mischievous Tino comes straight from The Pet Shop complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, it’s extremely addicting. Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that seperates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

 

Extract from The Voyeur

His evening meal complete, Mark sat back, contentedly sipping his cup of strong black coffee. Pulling a
small, battered notebook from his pocket, he read thoughtfully for a moment. His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out. It was time for them to progress to the end of the list. Pressing the intercom button, Mark summoned his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room.

The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions.

‘I have decided that we will take a trip to Discreet this evening. We will turn our attention to the next fantasy on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes deliberately weighed up the reaction of his staff as he delivered his news.

Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of his time in his London flat, rather than in his mini-mansion in Oxfordshire, where his software business was based. It was only at Discreet, the most exclusive of the city’s BDSM clubs, that his increasingly imaginative fantasies could be publically appreciated; most of which involved the observation of other people’s erotic aspirations. Mark Parker was the ultimate voyeur.

Trying hard not to exchange glances with her colleague, Anya could sense the stiffening of Clara’s body as they listened to their boss. She knew that Clara’s mind, like her own, would already be racing; madly trying to guess what Mark’s latest erotic scenario would involve. Having survived fantasies one to eleven, they already understood the nature of the challenges they were likely to experience during the evening that loomed ominously ahead.

‘Anya, you will be less delighted than Clara, perhaps, when I tell you that this trip is intended as a lesson for you; possibly a punishment.’

Forgetting herself for a second, the PA lifted her head and stared Mark squarely in the face.

His lips smiled; his eyes, however, did not. ‘You wonder why? Why, when you are forever questioning my instructions?’

‘But Mark, I …’ Anya stopped talking, aware that by asking why she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her white shirt, as her employer continued to stare at her.

‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was velvety soft, yet the potential danger of disagreeing with him shone in his eyes. ‘But I know that you constantly query my actions by your reaction to them. Subconscious or not, it has to stop.’

Anya couldn’t believe it; she had always been so dutiful. The perfect assistant. The willing slave. How could Mark know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than “ordinary” existence?

Clara was hovering uncomfortably next to Anya as Mark came closer. ‘Tonight,’ he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, ‘you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task from our list, girls?’

They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten his questions were rhetorical.d21d10b7afd3ca521ab7d563891fc7a7

Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write “Fantasy 1”, “Fantasy 2” and so on, all the way down – the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words “Fantasy 13”. The first 11 rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.

‘Only two more tasks to go.’

This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other, exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.

Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.

Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be both more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it. They also longed for it. Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs closer and closer to his own. Making them as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied Mark on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.

A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. ‘You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.’ Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.

As she considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, Anya privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 might not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than she’d survived before. She could handle this. They both could – no problem.

Then Anya saw her outfit.

Her bed supported nothing but a leather dog collar…

 

 

Buy The Collared Collection Here:

http://mybook.to/collaredcollection

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/Collared-Collection-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01AIWPHRU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1453823467&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Collared+Collection

http://www.amazon.com/Collared-Collection-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01AIWPHRU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1453892564&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Collared+Collection

 

 

kay jaybee subclub

 

About Kay Jaybee:

Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO

Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.

Kay Jaybee wrote The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite 2011-14), The New Room, (Xcite, 2015), The Voyeur, (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress, 2013.

Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

 

You can follow Kay here:

Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee

Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html

Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane – www.jennykane.co.uk

 

 

Out Now – Love Bites by Queenie Black (@queenieblackwr1) #erotica #ku #kindleunlimited

Love BitesBlurb:

Elevator Magic
A steamy encounter in an elevator makes Cass the center of attention for two sexy men. Is it just hot sex for them or will Cass have to make some life-changing choices?

Immortal Longings
Not one, but two Greek gods in her bed. How’s a girl to choose? Must Zoe’s sensual holiday romance end in farewell, or will she try to make her own heaven on earth with two demigods?

Eleanor’s Choice
Eleanor explores the shadowy world of submission – her marriage depends on it. Will the Master give her an experience she can use to please her husband, or is it time to walk away?

Love Bites
Lonely Ella is mesmerised by the owner of a chocolate shop. Drawn into Lang’s rich, seductive web, she grows to fear as well as desire him. What is the secret he is hiding from her?
These four short stories contain too-hot-to-handle Greek gods, a sexy Vampire who might just turn out to be a killer, a Master who can wield a crop with artistry, and two delicious CEOs who know how to keep a woman happy. Oh, and chocolate, BDSM, MFM Mènage and sex in an elevator.

Universal Amazon link: http://viewbook.at/lovebites

 

Excerpt:

ELEVATOR MAGIC

“You know what? You can take your job and stick it.” Mad as hell I grabbed my purse and stomped out of the little cubicle I called my office. I was done here and I was never coming back and fuck the giving notice part.

The elevator always took ages to creak its way between floors and I could feel the stabbing pressure of what felt like a thousand eyes in my back. Of course they were all watching. They’d been waiting for something like this to happen for twenty months. Just then melodic chimes signaled the arrival of the executive elevator. The one that normal people like me are forbidden to ride in, the one for the exalted rich and the bosses who live in the penthouse. I wanted to escape the avid looks that were directed my way and, what the hell, what could they do anyway? Sack me?

So I stepped into it.

I turned and, just before the doors closed, got a good view of open mouths, staring eyes and was that…envy? It certainly looked like it from where I was standing. As the doors slid silently shut, I raised my hand and gave a little finger wave.

The car was bigger than my bedroom, and a thousand times more luxurious but I hardly noticed the mirrored walls and the thick-as-a-mattress carpet. My attention was caught and held by the two guys already in there, one on my left and one on my right.

My gaze darted between the two of them and I felt guilty colour sting my cheeks. I hadn’t expected company but I wasn’t objecting. These guys were fit and built. One dark-haired and smoooooth, the other blonde and just-got-in-out-of-the-wild rough.

And I knew them. Brandon Shaw and Mitchell Graham owned the company I work – ooops, scratch that – the company I used to work for. I’d met them at work events, like the Christmas party and the Halloween party and the Employee of the Year party. I’d seen them a couple of times from a distance. They always had a flock of female employees around them.

I’d heard people described as chick magnets but only realised exactly what it meant when I saw these two. I used to feel their magic pull yet always stayed away because initially I was in a relationship, and then afterwards was suffering from a broken heart and struggling to cope with a job where my ex was screwing a colleague. Pity my ex didn’t take a leaf out of these guys’ books – there was never any suggestion that they had slept with anyone from the company. Which meant in the end that there was a gentle rumor that they were a) gay, or b) didn’t like vanilla and went for the more exotic, with their tastes catered for elsewhere.

I positioned myself with my back to the wall and let my gaze slide over them. To my right was Brandon. He’d taken off his suit jacket and had it hooked over one shoulder. Beneath the fine fabric of his shirt I could see the hard muscle of a broad chest, arrowing down to a pair of narrow hips and a huge bulge… Oh man.

I licked my lips and dragged my reluctant gaze away to focus on his face. He was watching me scope him out. There was a hard predatory glint in his eyes. Heat speared through me from my cheekbones to my pussy, part embarrassment and part desire. I squeezed my thighs together to stop the growing ache.

I quickly glanced away and found myself checking out Mitchell on my left. He was slightly shorter than his partner, and seemed kinder and less predatory too. His eyes were a softer green, more jade than emerald. But his shoulders were as wide and he sported an identical erection. Were they lovers? A pity for womankind if they were gay. What a loss.

I shouldn’t be in the elevator with them in the first place but the new militant me with nothing to lose didn’t care. So instead of fixing my gaze on the floor and fighting the temptation to look again, I enjoyed the view. They put my slimeball ex to shame and my panties grew damp while they silently watched me. I wished that I was wearing something a little less conservative when the elevator jerked to a sudden halt.

Not a nice, slow, we’ve arrived kind of halt but the scary kind.

The lights went out.

Panic dug its claws into me, not letting go even when the emergency lighting kicked in.

“What’s happening?” I didn’t even try and keep the terrified squeak out of my tone.

“Hey,” Brandon said softly, “it’s going to be alright. They’ll have it fixed in no time.”

“It’s broken?” I hated the idea of being shut in closed spaces, and the car, despite its size and luxury, suddenly felt very small. I couldn’t bear to spend hours locked in here hanging over all that empty space. The walls closed in, my hands and feet went cold, and I struggled to breath.

“Now you’ve done it, Brandon.”

“Easy.” When had they got so close to me? I was crowded by two warm male bodies that smelt good. Having them so close, almost touching me, took my mind off the elevator.

“Rub her hands, Mitchell. Get some warmth into them, she’s freezing.”

Mitchell sandwiched my hands between his palms and rubbed hard. The movement distracted me, not because he was making my hands warmer, which he was, but because he kept bumping my breasts.  Awareness rushed through me and my nipples went hard as cherry stones and poked at my blouse. Brandon’s hands rested lightly on my hips but they might as well have been brands. I could feel every finger as if there were no clothing between us. Woodsy cologne, mingled with clean male musk, swirled around me. My pussy creamed and I couldn’t help it; my wayward body leant back until I was pressed hard against Brandon.

His cock, huge and promising, seared my lower back. I couldn’t prevent a small sound escaping. I felt my cheeks go hot. What must they think of me?

Mitchell’s expression was rich with satisfaction in the dim light.

“Shall we carry on distracting you, baby?”

I shivered, my panties drenched as my body answered the question for them.  Brandon nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath my ear. His voice rumbled right through my body as he asked, “Ever been double-fucked before?”

The crude honesty of his question embarrassed me and I couldn’t answer. Then I forgot what he asked because Mitchell dropped to his knees in front of me. His hands stroked slowly up the back of my thighs. They smoothed over stockings, and then paused when they reached my lacy garters.

*****

Author bio:

I’ve been writing pretty much since I was able to read. I juggle fundraising for charities, family life and writing with varying success. My children have mostly flown the nest and I live in a small village in North Yorkshire, England with my husband and some chickens. I write in an old caravan in the garden where I can’t be tempted to procrastinate on the internet.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/queenieblackauthor/?fref=ts

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/queenieblackwr1

releaseblitzbutton_lovebites

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

Site created and maintained by Writer Marketing Services | Sitemap
Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial