Category Archives: New Releases

Victoria Blisse Shares the Story Behind A Proper British Seaside Holiday

I’m delighted to have one of my favourite people and a fab writer, Victoria Blisse back on my site today. She, along with the amazing Lucy Felthouse, have just co-edited the saucy, sexy anthology, Smut By the Sea, in which I’m very honoured to have a story. Victoria is here to tell us the story behind her very steamy contribution to the anthology, A Proper British Seaside Holiday. And if I know Victoria, the one thing we can count on is that the story will sizzle. Welcome, Victoria Blisse.

Hi KD, it’s always a pleasure to visit your place! Today I’m here to tell you all about my story in Smut by the Sea, but as I’m the editor of the anthology I suppose I should tell you something about that, too.

I love Scarborough, I always have. It has wonderful childhood memories for me but now I have visited with my husband I have seriously sexy memories there too. Smut by the Sea was inspired by that special sensuality that comes to the fore when we’re by the sea.  It also gives us a great excuse to hold a great big erotic event in Scarborough.  Yep, if you can make it to Scarborough on the 22nd July 2013 then come over to the library, we’re going to have a very smutty day indeed!

http://smutbythesea.co.uk/scarborough2013/

Now, onto my story in this anthology. Unsurprisingly it’s set in Scarborough. It’s a beautiful place, look.

 

Scarborough

When my idea came to me, though. It didn’t feature sun-soaked beaches and nearly naked bodies. No, my inspiration came from something quintessentially British – Rain. Yep, from the moment Abby arrives in the seaside resort it rains. It doesn’t stop. But it doesn’t stop her from enjoying herself.

Any person who holiday’s in the UK works out ways to enjoy themselves in the rain. I have spent many a wet day in Scarborough and although I have never taken a ride on the open top bus with the rain throwing down I have been on it when it’s been cold, windy and a little damp but that never dampens my spirits. It’s a joy to travel on a bus without a roof on it. It’s just fun no matter the weather!

Sunshine isn’t a necessity to have a good time, I hope I show that in my Smut by the Sea story. And here’s a sexy snippet for you to get wet to. No, no it’s a wet snippet for you to get sexy to…ahem. Something like that anyway.

Here’s the excerpt:

So I set out to Scarborough to revisit the joy of my childhood. Of course my memories were sun-bathed and glorious, but by the grace of the British weather it was throwing it down with rain when I pulled into the familiar white-frilled platform of my haven of sanity.

And it wasn’t just a shower, it kept up raining as I walked around to find a hotel room. It was also the kind of rain with purpose that they get up north. I’d forgotten the biting chill of rainwater impacting forcefully on skin and the short amount of time it takes to get wet, properly wet.

In London I leap from office to Tube to taxis and restaurants and back, I don’t have time to get more than damp. By the time I found a hotel with a vacancy, I was drenched to the skin but I was happy. I’d seen my first glimpse of the tumble-down castle and heard the cry of the seagulls. I smelt the tang of salt on the air and smiled.

I sat in my room a while, it was gifted with a huge window and a view of the sea. As I dried out I watched the sea boil and break, churning white with ferocity and power. I tracked the familiar coast and picked out landmarks, absorbed the nostalgia and breathed. I was so relaxed, sat there in the comfort of my room with my wet jeans steaming on the radiator that my mind slipped to pleasure for the first time since forever. The soft velour chair stroked my thighs and made me feel decadent. I realised that I was sat by my hotel window half naked, thought about it a moment, then shrugged.

I was high up and overlooking the sea but hidden from public view. Who would want to look anyway? I am just a chubby girl; no one ever glances at me twice. And I don’t mind, I’m too busy, then too exhausted for sex anyway. But there in that hotel room I felt stirrings I’d almost forgotten I could experience.

I was hyper aware of my breathing, my bust rising and falling under the plain white t-shirt protecting them. I watched them heave out of the corner of my eye and gazed out at the rain and the sea and the squall. The undulation of the tide seemed to mimic the rise and fall of my chest and I found myself unable to resist reaching up and stroking across my breast. I felt tingles slip down between my cleavage, over the hillock of my stomach to the valley below.

It was wet outside and I was wet on the inside. I could feel my juices clinging to my lips and sticking to the expensive satin of my knickers. I was aroused and it felt fucking good. I knew masturbation was pleasurable, it’s just I’d not done it for so long that it was almost a surprise. I had lost desire but hadn’t missed it until that moment; when I remembered how good it feels as the blood whooshes through you and everything aches and stretches towards orgasm.

I savoured every twitch, every gasp as I rubbed my hands over my body, following the path of my need. I slouched down in the expensive chair and spread my thighs wide. Thinking back it would have made sense to move over onto the huge four poster bed I had paid extra for, but I was too lost in the moment to think straight.

The damp crotch of my knickers slipped over my knuckles when I stroked over the coarse hair of my pussy. I idly thought about trimming it. I hadn’t paid it any attention for months, but I actually liked the wildness that I delved through to press my clit. It was a voyage of rediscovery and I remembered relatively quickly what button to press and which way to rub it. It came back to me exactly the pressure I needed to reach to make me mewl and pump my hips in pleasure. The shuddering orgasm hit and absorbed me, shaking through every cell, waking me from my trance. That is what it felt like anyway. I saw the world in a fresh light as I pulled myself up and grinned.

I hope you enjoyed hearing about my inspiration and I hope my excerpt inspired you. If you want to buy a copy of Smut by the Sea and discover the sexy stories between the covers then check it out here: http://smutbythesea.co.uk/anthology-vol-1/

 

Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

 

Find out more at http://victoriablisse.co.uk or follow and friend Victoria: http://twitter.com/victoriablisse http://facebook.com/victoriablisse

 

 

 

Sunday Snog by the Sea

I don’t often get organised enough to participate in Sunday Snog, but this Sunday is a special treat for me all the way around, and very deserving of a Sunday Snog. It’s special because of the release of a wonderful new anthololgy called Smut By the Sea, edited by two of my favourite people as well as two very talented authors, Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse. And the gorgeous cover art is done by the lovely Fuschia Ayling, who has illustrated the beginning of my novel, Body Temperature and Rising, and very kindly shared some of her work on this blog.

I feel very honoured to have my sexy lesbian story, Skin, included in amongst stories by some of my very favourite writes, all with a seaside theme. My story, Skin, is about an artist’s encouter with a mysterious woman in the middle of a storm. It’s set in Lyme Regis.  WARNING: this  Sunday snog is definitely not for the faint of heart, but for the lusty libido, it’s just the ticket. Enjoy!

‘You must be freezing too,’ Celia said. ‘I saw you drawing the harbor seal on the beach when the storm hit.’ She scooted down to one end of the tub. ‘Come on. There’s plenty of room.’

Before I could ask how she’d seen me when I was sure I was alone, she grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt with wet hands and worried it off over my head, pulling me forward enough in the process that while I was temporarily blinded by my own top, she reached behind me and unhooked my bra. My much larger, much heavier tits spilled forward into her hands as she slid the bra off, brushing her thumbs against my nipples in the process. ‘There, that’s better, isn’t it? Let’s get all those wet and clammy clothes away from you lovely skin. Now stand up.’

I did as she said, and she went to work on my walking trousers, then she slid her hands inside, hooked fingers into the elastic of my knickers and tugged both down. ‘Now step out of them. That’s right. Mmm you smell delicious. You smell like the sea. Somehow I knew that you would.’

As I lifted my leg to step out of the trousers and knickers now pooled around my ankles, Celia did not look away. I could feel her gaze on what nestled beneath my own tight curls. I normally would have been shy. I normally would have tried to preserve my modesty, but I wanted her to see my pussy. I wanted her to see what I looked like down there. She made room for me, and I stepped into the warm sudsy water. Then we maneuvered for space and she, being much smaller than I, scooted closer, lifting her thighs over mine.

That done she leaned up until she was practically in my lap and brushed a kiss against my lips. ‘Please, let me wash you. You have such beautiful skin.’ She ran a finger along my collar bone and then brushed her palm over my left breast and I sucked in a tight breath. ‘You’re so soft and round and full. You look like a woman is supposed to look. I could never look like you.’ Before I could tell her how beautiful I thought she was and how I admired her body, she took the sponge and drizzled warm water across my breasts. ‘Please tell me it’s alright.’

Lyme Regis

All I could do was whimper and nod, as the sponge moved down my sternum and under and around each of my heavy breasts in turn. Then she took up the soap. I sat hypnotized and wet in ways that had nothing to do with the bath as she lathered and cupped and kneaded my breasts until they looked like they were covered with a soapy white shirt. Then she pushed me back, until I lay with my head resting on the edge of the big tub, and she straddled me. Her soft curls brushed mine, as she drizzled water over my breasts and down my belly. She sponged me in soft caressing motions, moving ever lower onto my tummy until I could no longer resist shifting and rocking my hips, grinding my arse into the unforgiving bottom of the tub. She was practically lying on top of me as she let go of the sponge and cupped my pubis with the palm of her hand.

‘Women smell of the sea as men never can,’ she breathed against my face. ‘I love that about women. With women I’m always close to the sea.’ Then she kissed me with just a touch of tongue, just as she wriggled a finger in between my labia and we both moaned into each other’s mouths. ‘You’re so creamy wet.’ She pressed her pussy against my hip. ‘Do I make you that way?’

‘Oh God yes,’ I breathed, pulling her closer, taking her mouth as though I would eat her up.

‘Then let me taste you. I want to taste you, please.’

Buy Smut By the Sea here:

 

Fulfill Me by Victoria Blisse

Fulfill MeBlurb:

Caitlyn is out to get what she wants and she desperately wants Nick Casey, Star of Dobsons Digs the biggest soap on TV. She will do anything to get into his life but one thing, one person always stops her. His annoying yet handsome PA Mike.

But there is more to Nick and to Mike than she could ever have first imagined. She ends up on a journey from one side of BDSM to the complete opposite and all the time she’s just looking for the man who can make her whole.

Buy links:
All Romance eBooks
Amazon UK
Amazon US

Excerpt:

“Yeah, I’m not enjoying it like I used to, and I have other ways to bolster my income. I’ll let someone a little younger and a lot less long in the tooth take over my place.”

“Wow, now there’s a scoop for the tabloids.” I laugh but Mike stiffens, and I realise it was a silly joke to make.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Well it was a joke. I’d never ever—I just wouldn’t.” I trip over the words in my eagerness to make things right.

“No, no you’ve gone too far.” His hand squeezes my arm and his eyes don’t show the same anger as his words. “You’re going to have to be punished for speaking out of turn you impudent wench.”

Ah, now I know what he’s doing and the pit of my stomach is rolling like a machine full of lottery balls.

“I’m so sorry, sir, please don’t punish me. I’ll watch my tongue in future, I promise.”

“You will do wench, but you still need punishing. Stand up.”

I jump up off the sofa like I bounced up on a broken spring.

“Now young lady, follow me.” He stands up and walks me back out into the corridor then across it to a room I’ve not been in before.  One of many actually from the length of the corridor and the doors along it. When the door swings open, I can see clearly that it’s a study.

An old wood desk dominates the middle of the room. It’s back faces a massive window which shines as black as Whitby jet filled with the night sky.  In one corner of the room is a simple high backed chair with no arms. This is where he chooses to sit down and after shutting the door behind me I stand before him.

“Now only a young, foolish child would speak without thinking, so you’ll receive a childish punishment. Over my knees now young lady.” I hesitate, biting my lip. “NOW!” He barks, making me jump. “Don’t question me young lady, or you’ll not be able to sit down for a fortnight.”

I concede and lower myself awkwardly to his lap, the bottom of my clothed breasts rubbing the outside of his thigh, my pubis pushing gently against the other.  He quickly raises my skirt, folding it back over my bottom then he rips down the satin black knickers beneath.

He rubs his hand gently over the curve of my buttocks and I bite my lip, not wanting to moan out in case it enflames him more. I’ve never been spanked before but my cunt is wet and my nipples aching. However I’m not sure how much pain I can take. The idea is pleasurable, but the practicalities of it all make me anxious. I want to enjoy it, it’s obviously something he enjoys; I can feel his erection against my stomach. But I just don’t know how much punishment I’ll be able to take.

Suddenly, the thought is shocked from my mind as his usually soft hand slaps down with stinging harshness. It shocks me but it isn’t too uncomfortable. The next slap creates more heat than sharpness. I gasp and press my pubis forward trying to escape the next slap. It burns and I really start to question how much I can take.

It’s then that he gently caresses my burning rump and I mewl like a contented kitty until he snaps his hand back and slams it against my flesh several times in quick succession making me yelp with the stinging pain.

His fingers skim over my heated flesh then dip between my buttocks, tracing down between my thighs as they fall open for him, dipping into the moisture pooling there and gently teasing my clit.

“Such a horny little slut, enjoying her spanking.” He tuts and slaps my buttocks hard once more. I feel tears testing the corners of my eyes and want to yell out for him stop but I hold it in while the next two slaps fall.

“Stand up, wench.” He commands and I comply, though my legs feel shaky, and my knickers are dangling between my knees, making it decidedly difficult to stand up and keep my balance at the same time. He grabs my arm and drags me; well he never gets far in front of me so it’s more like he’s roughly leading me actually, until we reach the hefty desk. He kisses me and whispers in my ear. “You’re so fucking sexy, damn it.” He presses me down against the cold hard wood until my cheek is lying flat against its shocking coldness and my breasts are pressed down hard against the surface.

“Spread your legs,” he commands and I stretch them as far as I can, which actually isn’t far with the knickers hobbling me. Mike flips up my skirt exposing my still stinging buttocks to the air and his eyes. His soft lips kiss the reddened flesh evoking a gasp at the tenderness in the action. I close my eyes and wait for what will come next. I hear the clink of a belt buckle, and hear him curse as he struggles to undo his zip. I wonder if he’s having problems getting his hard on out. I could feel its stirrings pressing against my stomach when he spanked me, and I know it’s a solid robust thing, not made for bending or getting out of tight places. Getting into them; well that’s a whole different issue. The tell-tale crinkle of a condom packet heightens my anticipation. I know he’s going to fuck me and I can’t wait.

The Story Behind Kay Jaybee’s Hot New Novel, ‘The Voyeur.’

It’s my pleasure to welcome back to A Hopeful Romantic, the fabulous Kay Jaybee here to tell us the story behind her hot new novel, The Voyeur. Welcome, Kay. Do tell!

A huge thanks to the wonderful Ms. Grace, for allowing me to gatecrash her site. Today I’m going to share with you the ideas that led to the conception of my second novel, The Voyeur (Xcite, July 2012).

Wealthy business man and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into 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 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 the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, Anya’s previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only 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’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch…

The idea for The Voyeur saw its first glimmer of light back in 2007, when I wrote a two part story called Fantasy 13, for the excellent erotica web site Oysters and Chocolate. These full-on BDSM parallel adventures, both set in the ‘Discreet’ S&M club, were subtitled Clara’s Story and Anna’s Story– and now form the backbone of Chapters One and Two of The Voyeur.

As anyone who has read my work will know, I love writing BDSM stories, and for some time prior to penning the mini- series Fantasy 13, I’d toyed with the idea of setting a piece within a specialist club, which I’d decided to paradoxically entitle, Discreet! The only thing holding me back was that I was at a loss for an original story angle.

About the same time, I was sat in a cafe (as ever!), covertly people watching. A woman about my age was frantically scribbling down a list. I assumed it was a shopping list; but then I began to wonder- what if it wasn’t? What if it was something more interesting? Maybe it was a list of all the things she wished her husband, lover or girlfriend would do to, or with, her?

There was no stopping my imagination once I’d had that thought. Within the hour I had created Mark, a business man who kept a secret notebook in which to compile all his darkest desires.  He doesn’t necessarily want to take part in any of these fantasies- he just wants to see them take place in front of him.  The ultimate voyeur!

So, you could say that The Voyeur was originally a mixture of ideas gleaned from my long standing desire to write a story set in a sex club, and observing a woman jot down a shopping list in a cafe!!

Of course, once Mark existed in my imagination, I needed to create some willing assistants to make his dreams come true- and so PA Anya (originally Anna), and Housekeeper Clara, were born! Two professional, intelligent women, who think they know exactly what they are letting themselves in for- but do they?

The original Fantasy 13 for Oysters and Chocolate told the stories of Clara and Anna as they experienced their employer’s two-pronged final erotic dream. In The Voyeur however, this original ultimate fantasy, becomes the twelfth item on Mark’s list. He has something far more challenging for his employees to endure for fantasy 13- and a dark motive behind his reason for it…

Here’s an extract to tickle those visual taste buds… To their horror, Anya and Clara have just been told that they have to repeat many of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them. In this section of Chapter 3 we find the girls about to retake fantasy 2 while Mark looks on- it’s torture by erotica…

Excerpt:

Reclining in his chair, Mark raised his arm as if he was about to start a race, and gave the first order. ‘Strip.’ 

With practice born of repetition, the women divested themselves of their clothing, heaping their discarded garments onto the bed behind them.

Mark took a moment to study his staff, and then pointed to the foot of the four-poster bed. Understanding the unspoken request, the women stood, face to face, one metre apart.

Anya could feel her heart rate quicken further as she regarded Clara. It didn’t matter that she had enjoyed the feel of Clara’s skin a hundred times before; all that mattered was feeling it again, and soon.

‘As you will remember, you must remain exactly where you are, without touching each other, without making a sound. All you have to do is listen and refrain from moving.’ Picking up a well-thumbed paperback of erotic short stories from the bedside table, Mark took his time leafing through the pages to find the section he’d decided to narrate to his staff.

‘Even though Gail had been expecting it, the ring of the doorbell still made her jump. Wiping her palms apprehensively down the back of her jeans, she went to greet her guest.

‘The smile that met Gail as she opened the door turned into a beam of approval as Becky’s eyes scanned Gail’s snug-fitting red top and black jeans as if she had X-ray vision. “Wow, that’s one sexy vest, honey.”

‘Gail’s face flushed, but she managed to swallow back her natural inclination to dismiss a compliment, and let her own eyes roam over her visitor. Becky, in blue jeans and a plain black figure-hugging T-shirt, which displayed her cleavage to perfection, looked fantastic. Her recently washed and fluffed hair smelt mildly of lemon, and her face looked fresh and keen.

‘“You look pretty hot yourself, come in.” Becky followed her host into the small hallway that led to the lounge.

‘Gail was thankful for the background music she’d put on, for now they were here, face to face, just out of arm’s reach, an awkward tension hung in the air. They simply didn’t know what to say to each other. Surprising herself by being the one to break the silence, Gail spoke quietly. “This is ridiculous. Come here.” Catching hold of Becky’s hand, feeling how cold it was despite the heat of the room, she pulled her down onto the short blue sofa.

‘They still didn’t talk, but now it didn’t matter. As Gail sat, her legs hooked up under her, her body whorled toward Becky, everything within her immediate sight became blurred around the edges; this girl’s face, her clear green eyes, her mouth, the hands that began to reach out to Gail …

‘As Becky’s fingers reached her cheeks, Gail was snapped back to reality by their tender touch on her pale flesh. Placing her own hands on Becky’s shoulders, Gail ran them up each side of her neck, until she was cupping her face. The desire to kiss this person, this woman, was overwhelming. As her face came to Gail’s, Becky muttered, “You still want to?”

‘“Oh yes.” Gail hardly even breathed the words as their lips came together and their eyes closed.

‘The goose-pimples that had been spotting Gail’s arms tingled, and every nerve-ending flickered as a supple tongue darted against her mouth, and soft hair stroked her face. Her lips would have been happy to keep doing this, to kiss this person endlessly, but Gail’s body had other ideas, and after a few moments she could no longer sustain the leisurely pace.

‘Her kisses became firmer, and Becky, picking up on Gail’s urgency, reciprocated with equal fervour. Their hands, everywhere at once, began a thorough exploration of each other. Kneading tits, sliding hands beneath shirts to feel bare skin against their virgin fingers, nipping at each other’s neck, trailing hands lower, caressing crotches through thick denim, they touched whatever they could reach without giving up the kissing that became more and more passionate.

‘Finally breaking away, panting, their eyes serious but twinkling with mutual lust, they stood up …’

As he read, Mark, who knew the passage he was reciting so well that he really didn’t need to have the book in front of him, watched the girls’ bodies react; their teats hardening, their breasts swelling. Gratified that they hadn’t yet wavered from their position, he launched back into the manuscript, continuing to observe Anya and Clara carefully as he read …

‘Reaching out again, Becky dragged Gail’s top from her shoulders. Copying the action, Gail drew a long deep breath as she saw Becky’s black lace chemise, an exhalation that was echoed by Becky, whose emerald gaze had locked on to Gail’s bright red satin bra. Only a second’s visual appreciation passed, however, as, with unspoken understanding, they freed their breasts.

‘Gail’s hands leapt to her companion’s perfectly round yielding chest. As she made contact with Becky’s globes, the neat beige tips pushed back against her palms. Becky let out a husky groan of yearning, bringing her own hands to the other woman, her little fingers rubbing around Gail’s dark areolas in delectably torturous circles.

‘Desperate to find out if the taste of a tit was as she imaged it to be, Gail knocked Becky’s hands away, her lips rushing forward on a collision course for her guest’s right nipple. The texture of female flesh between her teeth sent a thrill gushing through her, turning Gail’s pussy from damp to wet as she gently kissed all around the teat. Savouring Becky’s sigh of contentment, Gail turned her caresses to pinches and bites, making her lover gasp as her hands continued their investigation of the mouth-watering body that was responding to her so readily. A voice at the back of Gail’s mind was asking her how the hell she knew what to do, but she ignored it, more concerned with continuing her research.

‘Becky’s arms hung limp at her sides as Gail pushed her back onto the sofa, lifted her hips, and began to pull down her jeans.

‘Gail’s throat became Sahara dry as she revealed Becky’s ruby and silver-studded naval. Pausing to kiss it, she continued removing the denims until she was faced with a beautiful, black lace-covered pussy. Nothing mattered now except seeing what lay under that small triangle of fabric. With a quick glance at Becky to make sure she still wanted to proceed, Gail pressed a firm palm over the knickers, feeling her stomach muscles quiver as she ran a single finger beneath the waistband. Becky’s breathing became laboured as Gail peeled the lace away from her crotch.

‘The smoothly shaven pussy that met Gail’s eyes seemed to ask for attention all on its own. Gail’s fingers obliged, examining its secret folds. Her touch revelled in the unfamiliar sensations, and her nose instantly loved the sweet aroma as her fingers uncovered the erect clit. Leaning closer, Gail blew air across its tip, making Becky whimper as moist lips met her pussy. Lapping up the sweet juices with delight, Gail’s hands snaked up Becky, massaging each breast.

‘Murmuring her pleasure with short mewls, Becky’s body began to jerk. Her involuntary movements increased as Gail speeded her caresses, gliding a finger inside the wet snatch, as Becky, with a cry of joy, came around the thin digit while Gail continued to stimulate her clit …’

Anya’s toes clenched as she fought the urge to shuffle her feet. Her entire body could feel the echo of Becky and Gail’s imagined stimulation. Before the reading had started, Anya had adopted the position experience had taught her she could maintain for a long time, with her hands together in front of her. Now, as Mark’s words slunk over her, the PA felt her sticky palms suction together. Resolute that she would not fail, she was equally desperate to touch Clara. Anya began to wish that she had focused her eyes on her lover’s feet rather than on her slim, porcelain waist and perfectly oval naval.

Clara, her neck bent, was studying the patch of carpet just in front of Anya’s painted toenails. Her hands, linked behind her back, dug into her palms as she did her best to block out Mark’s low, sensual voice; trying to think about anything but the intensely erotic scenario that was being read to them.

Distracting herself, Anya began to mull over where Mark had hidden the stopwatch. She was sure there’d be one hidden somewhere, counting off the seconds until either she or Clara caved in and moved. It was probably in his pocket, but Anya didn’t dare lift her gaze enough to see if the tell-tale circular bulge to his jeans pocket was there.

As Mark lingered over a paragraph detailing the fictional women licking each other out, Anya’s crotch twitched faster. She could almost feel the described contact for herself, and guessed from the visible tensing of her stomach muscles that Clara was fighting a similar battle.

Trying hard not to dwell on how wet her partner might be, and wishing she’d been bound so that her forced inactivity was easier, Anya attempted to picture the pile of paperwork on her desk, and the massive number of emails that would be cluttering up her inbox while she was away from the office. Yet her attempts at such practical thoughts were washed away by Mark’s kinky recital …

‘Gail couldn’t believe how incredible it felt, as a girl stroked her inner thighs and snatch with languid strokes of her agile tongue. Unable to keep her hands still, she reached down to the top of Becky’s head, but, unable to reach her, moved her fingers to her own breasts, massaging them in time to the gloriously frustrating movements between her legs …’

It was Clara’s foot that shifted first. Just a tiny fraction. If Mark hadn’t been expecting it then it might have gone unnoticed, but he remembered how Fantasy 2 had ended last time, with the minor wriggle of his housekeeper’s toes, and it was with an expressionless dip of his head that he witnessed history repeating itself.

Clara inwardly cursed her unbidden movement. She was sure she had managed to remain motionless for longer than she had last time, but the proximity of Anya, and the temptation of the words Mark had been weaving around them, had been too much.

Now that Clara had moved, Anya felt the tension ease from her rigid frame, and risked flexing her fingers a little. Mark’s cut-glass voice ripped through the sound of the soloist singing her haunting tones from the stereo. ‘I expected you to last longer, Miss Hooper. You have six months more experience than you had the last time you took this test.’

Instantly both girls became stock still in the face of their boss’s disappointment.

‘I have not finished reading. You will take one step closer to each other. You will not touch each other.’

Anya could almost taste Clara’s skin, it was so close, and the heady aroma of her partner’s snatch was wafting temptingly toward her. Mark resumed the torturously arousing monologue as she battled harder than ever not to grab the woman in front of her.

‘Becky smiled with approval when she saw Gail’s busy fingers and, slipping a hand under Gail’s backside, sought out her anus. Lifting her head for a second, Becky began to probe at her lover’s arse, pushing her finger in further, her eyes trapped into Gail’s, gauging her reaction to the extra intrusion. “Is that OK?”

‘“Oh fuck, yes!” Gail lifted her hips to help accommodate Becky’s hand, anxious for her friend’s mouth to return to its previous location.

‘As if reading her mind, Becky bought her lips back to Gail’s pussy, just as she thrust one finger between her butt cheeks and another into her slick cunt.

‘Gail’s body jacked, colours flashed behind her closed eyelids, and her hips rose higher as, for the first time in her life, a female triggered an orgasm that took full control of her.

‘Recovering themselves, the women looked at each other, exploding into a fit of friendly giggles as they observed their dishevelled state.

‘With a mischievous wink Becky said, “So, darling, was it good for you?”

‘Adopting a mock male tone, Gail replied, “Oh yes, babe!”’

Three whole minutes passed at a snail’s pace before Mark finally closed the novel and, without a word, opened his notebook instead.

Anya and Clara redoubled their efforts not to move, intimidated by the presence of the red pen Mark now held. Consulting the stopwatch that had been in his pocket as Anya had predicted, Mark wrote something in his book, his face set in grim concentration. The girls held their collective breath.

Clara, her head now held marginally higher than usual to relieve the tension in her neck, rested her eyes on Anya’s breasts. It was all she could do not to throw herself at them. Trying to convince herself that her feet were superglued to the floor, the housekeeper shut her eyes. Clara knew she shouldn’t, but at the same time she was all too aware that if she kept them open for even one more second, there was no way she’d be able to resist grabbing her lover – just like she had last time.

The girls could feel Mark’s eyes burning into them like lasers. He hadn’t said anything about Clara’s eyes being closed, but then he didn’t have to. She already knew she’d lost this one. All that mattered now was damage limitation. If she could prevent herself from grabbing Anya’s tits, then maybe she would have managed to score enough to satisfy Mark.

The music was abruptly switched off, and the quiet of the room engulfed the girls as Mark stood up. Clara, her eyes still closed, could picture her boss as he examined them. There would be no obvious disapproval on his face. There would be no expression at all.

Anya wasn’t sure how they’d done. She thought perhaps they’d survived for a few more minutes without moving than last time, but her memory could be playing tricks. At least Clara hadn’t grabbed her, although part of her wished she had, just to see what Mark would have done. If she was honest, it was only luck that it had been Clara who fidgeted first. She’d been only seconds away from breaking herself.

‘Open your eyes, Clara.’

Obeying immediately, Clara’s crystal clear eyes bored straight into Anya’s, seeing her own uncertainty about their performance reflected back at her.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, he sat back down to write again. Only when he’d finished scribbling did Mark deliberately and carefully close the notebook and address the women.

‘It won’t have slipped your memories, I’m sure, that the last time you partook of Fantasy 2, I let you have free reign upon the bed straight afterwards.’

Mark sat on the foot of the bed as he spoke. ‘However, I happen to know that you have already enjoyed each other since we met in the study. Therefore, I’m sure you would much rather rest.’

The girls said nothing. The dull desperation for each other was screamingly obvious.

‘At least your discipline has improved in the past six months.’ Only now did Mark’s disappointment in them begin to show. ‘You haven’t questioned me on that, or asked me how I knew. But I must enforce what I told you earlier. If you are to survive Fantasy 13, you’ll have to develop more stamina than you have showed this morning, ladies.’

Mark got up and gestured for his companions to follow him from bedroom four into their small bedroom. Once there, he took a pair of handcuffs from the drawer and snapped then around a speechless Anya’s wrists. She bit her lips closed. Why was she being cuffed? She’d won – hadn’t she?…

 

If you fancy finding out how Anya and Clara came to work for Mark, and what other challenges they have to endure, you can buy The Voyeur from Amazon UK, Amazon.com and all other good e-retailers.

 

Thanks again Kd, for letting me visit today.xxx

Buy Links:

www.oystersandchocolate.com

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Voyeur-ebook/dp/B008QBZ42Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1343547119&sr=8-1

http://www.amazon.com/The-Voyeur-ebook/dp/B008QBZ42Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1343547384&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Voyeur+kay+jaybee

 

 

A Rubenesque Anthology from The Northern Birds, Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse

Flesh Spills and Secret ThrillsFlesh Spills and Secret Thrills by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse

House of Erotica brings you a collection of sexy rubenesque short stories, sensually written by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse. This range of exciting stories will leave you desperately wanting to read on…

Stories include:-

Flesh Spills and Secret Thrills

When Lorella’s boyfriend Chris suggests that she’d look sexy in a corset, she finds the mere thought hilarious. A big girl like her would look ridiculous in such a thing! But as she’s always up for trying something new, she hits the online shops. When her new corset arrives, Lorella can’t wait to try it on and see how she looks, ready to surprise Chris when he gets home. But when she does, she gets a thrilling surprise of her own.

Miri on the Wall

Callum’s a prolific artist, with many beautiful models on his books. But there’s only one that stands out for him – Miri. He’s never had the courage to do anything about his feelings, though. When a client commissions a nude painting of a rubenesque woman, Callum has a dilemma. Miri is the only suitable model – but will she agree to the project? And how will Callum cope with the object of his love and lust being completely naked in front of him?

Carnal Praise

The Bishop is visiting and Caroline is practising her solo when her husband stops accompanying her on the piano and initiates a far more carnal kind of praise.

Down Amongst the Daffodils

Rachel bumps into an old crush from school, Stephen, who’s now a gardener at a local park. They get down and dirty in the grass beside the bright yellow daffodils.

Available from:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
1PlaceforRomance.com
iBooks

*****

More about the authors:

Victoria Blisse: http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk

Lucy Felthouse: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk