What Gets Us There?

“If you do your part, I guarantee I’ll get you there.”

 

That’s Wolf Jennings’ motto. And to some degree, it’s the theme of my story In Training, Anyone who knows me knows that I love spending time in the gym. For me, it’s been a major life-changing experience, one I thoroughly enjoy. One of the reasons I do enjoy it is because I consider a workout a creative process. I know how to put together a routine for myself with any equipment or with none at all. But I didn’t always, and I didn’t always love it either. I suppose that’s a part of the reason why the big question of my story In Training, from the fabulous British Bad Boys Anthology, is what does it take to get you there? What inspires you enough to make you pull out all the stops and totally go for … well for anything that really matters?

 

As far as getting fit goes, my answer was that I was losing strength, gaining weight and stress from writing four novels in one year was doing a real number on me. Mr. Grace kept nagging me to get to the gym and get a trainer. For a long time I ignored him, but one too many panic attacks in the middle of the night finally made the decision for me. I got a trainer. I figured if I had to pay, I’d make the commitment. In the beginning I paid someone twice a week, and I kept the commitment.

 

It didn’t take long to discover that not only was I feeling better, calmer, but I really enjoyed it. That was four years ago. Now I do it as much because I love it as because I love the benefits. That being the case, it’s not surprising that my heroine, PR guru Lauren Michaels, has to find her own reason for pushing herself. A gym is the last place she wants to be, but her boss has just made her the ‘get fit’ star in a reality fitness show with bad boy personal trainer, Wolf Jennings, who will get her there even if he has to drag her kicking and screaming. At least that’s his plan. But it’s only when she finds her reason to push that Lauren decides she really wants to “get there,” and she wants to do it with Wolf Jennings. Here’s a little excerpt.

 

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In Training Blurb:

Getting fit on reality TV is PR guru, Lauren Michael’s, brainchild for gym equipment and fitness company Physicality, Inc. The brilliant PR stunt involves one brave volunteer who wants to be fit badly enough to submit to the not so tender training techniques of personal trainer, Wolf Jennings, whose successful, but non-conventional, methods would make a drill sergeant look like a fluff ball. But when CEO and owner of Physicality, Inc, Claire Amos, decides her PR ace in the hole needs to walk the talk , Lauren finds herself between a kettle bell and a hard place … er a hard trainer. That’s nightmare enough, but for six weeks, 24/7 the explosive chemistry between the two will be sweated out live on camera for the whole world to see. What could possibly go wrong?

 

Wanna Bet? In Training Excerpt:

“On your knees, Michaels! Do it on your knees. You can’t do a full press-up until we strengthen those spaghetti arms. Do it like this.” He demonstrated the modified press-up. “Now I want you to do as many as you can in thirty seconds.” While thirty seconds lasted forever, as many press-ups as Lauren could do didn’t take long at all before she fell to the mat with her arms trembling. “Damn it Michaels, you gotta be willing to push yourself. I can’t do it for you.” He reset his timer. “Do it again.”

 

“Well this isn’t an auspicious beginning, Misty,” Del Allan said as they observed the training session going on in the gym below. “As much as I admire Claire Amos for believing her people should walk the talk, it’s clear to me that Lauren Michaels’ heart just isn’t in it. One has to wonder why the waste of time, energy and money for someone who doesn’t want to be here when there are so many who really do. I’ve said it before, I hope Physicality has a back-up plan because I’m betting Lauren Michaels won’t make it to the end of the week.”

 

“The real question, Del, is not whether Wolf Jennings can ‘get someone there,’ but whether he can motivate someone to want him to. Certainly this is a world away from what Lauren is used to, and apparently she didn’t know she’d be participating until twenty-four hours before.”

 

It was near the end of the fourth day when Lauren finally broke. “I can’t do any more,” she gasped after what seemed like miles of lunge walking back and forth across the gym with a dumb bell in each hand — dumb bells that got heavier with each step. “I need the hot tub. When do I get to use the hot tub?”

“When you’ve earned it,” Jennings growled. “Now do it again.”

“I hate you,” she forced the words out, no longer caring if the ever-present cameras picked up her remark or not. She reckoned that would be one more reason for the ‘sack Lauren and hire me’ faction to tweet nasty things about her. It’s not as if she wouldn’t trade places with them in a heartbeat.

“I’m not here for you to like,” came the reply. “Keep your back straight, shoulders back. Head up!”

She was halfway across the gym when one of the dumb bells slipped from her sweaty fingers, hit the floor with a loud crash, and she tripped over it doing into a belly flop in the middle of the gym.

“Get up. Keep going,” Wolf yelled, jogging effortlessly to her side. “Don’t be a wimp, Michaels. Finish it. I don’t train babies. Stop whinging and keep going.”

“I hate you.” This time she all but yelled it as she hefted the sweaty dumb bell and forced her way forward a couple more steps before she dropped the weight again — this time on her foot. It was only a glancing blow. She jerked away just in time, but it was enough. It was fucking enough! She dropped the other weight next to its fallen compadre and stormed back across the gym.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He said, “You’re not done yet.”

“Oh yes I am.” She grabbed up her sports drink and her towel.

“What? Are you a quitter, Michaels?” Jennings stepped in front of her effectively blocking her way, “Is that it?”

“What I am is sick of you yelling at me, sick of you treating me like a sub-human.” She hadn’t planned it, but when he didn’t move, it just happened. A quick twist of the lid on her sports drink and she let it fly. Her aim was true, hitting Jennings in the face with a shower of bright orange Lukozade. Then she stomped off toward her room. She hadn’t expected him to follow her, but then there were a lot of things she hadn’t expected about the man she’d met at the pub less than a week ago.

Legs still screaming from the workout, she took the stairs two at a time with him gaining on her fast. At the top, he called after her. “They’re taking bets on how soon you’ll quit. Did you know that, Michaels?”

She stopped, dead in her tracks, as though she were suddenly frozen to the spot. For a second she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and headed back toward the stairs, stopping in front of him to meet his cold glare. “Then they’ll lose.”

Fucking hell! Did she just say that? Surely she didn’t mean it. She would do almost anything to get out of this chamber of horrors, and yet here she was marching back downstairs, picking up the goddamned dumb bells, taking a deep breath and willing her legs to move forward. When she got to the end, instead of stopping, she gave Jennings a defiant glare, from where he now stood at the foot of the stairs, then she turned and headed back across. Somewhere a long way off, she could hear gasps and chatter from Wolf’s mezzanine fan club, but it didn’t matter. The world around her narrowed to the in and out drag of her breath, the pain in her quads and the slow step and lunge, step and lunge, that pulled her forward.

At the end, she dropped the dumb bells and bent over gasping, eyes clenched shut, hands on her knees. When at last she had the strength to stand up, she was surprised to find him next to, hair still dewed in orange. He handed her a bottle of water and a towel. While she drank, he wiped his face on his shirt.

She didn’t look at him, she was still battling the urge to cry. She knew all eyes were on her. After the drama she was now embarrassed to have caused, that was a given. But it was only Wolf Jenning’s eyes she felt in ways that were somehow even more intimate than his kiss at the pub. At last she handed him back the bottle and struggled to meet his gaze.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now drop and give me ten. Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll shove you on the treadmill till your Reeboks wear out.”

She did as he ordered, counting each press-up out loud and hardly feeling the effort, dazed as she was by what had just happened.

 

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Fab and FREE: Highland Pursuits by Emmanuelle de Maupassant

 

Emmanuelle de Maupassant recently launched her saucy 1920s romance romp: ‘Highland Pursuits’. To celebrate, she’s offering a FREE copy for your Kindle – but only for a few days, from 22-25th May. Don’t miss out.

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Do drop your name in the hat here.

 

 

 

 

 

What Readers are Saying:

 

 

 

I can’t tell you how much I love this book. It was a true delight to read. The author has captured 1920s
Britain wonderfully, and her detail is exquisite. –
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As a comedy of manners, this is exceptionally well done. – Fionna Guillaume 

 

Highland Pursuits is a wry, clever, incredibly sexy romp… a completely engrossing, utterly enjoyable read. I can’t recommend it highly enough…fabulously fun – Malin James

 

The scene was set beautifully… I felt like I went back in time to high society Scotland – Christine of Sweet and Spicy Reads

 

 

 

 

Find ‘Highland Pursuits’ on Goodreads and for sale on Amazon

 

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Disturbing Orgasms

Hi my lovelies! I’m still on holiday in Croatia, but I’ve not forgotten you. This post is from the archives and a post I did for the Brit Babes blog a while back. Disturbing orgasms, in fiction, are quite often the most exciting to read about. So I thought I’d share with you my ideas as to why that might be. Enjoy!

 

I’ve been thinking about the written climax. I did a mental inventory of the most memorable fictional “cum shots” I’ve penned and discovered that many of the ones that topped my list were disturbing. They were disturbing in that the sex leading up to them was not exactly hearts and flowers and chocolate truffles. It was never my plan that the orgasms resulting from disturbing sex should be among the most sizzling, but that they were made me stop and wonder why those scenes were so often the ones that made me twitch in my knickers.

 

That we’re aroused by things that disturb us is … well, it’s rather disturbing, actually. Why aren’t we happy with filthy hearts, and flowers and smutty sweetness and light? Why is it that often the more uncomfortable the fictional sex makes us, the more aroused we get. I got groped by a stranger once on a bus in rural Croatia. As upsetting as the experience was, it didn’t stop me from revisiting it in my fantasies a million times and wondering what would have happened if I’d been bold enough to let the whole scenario play itself out. The incident has inspired my fiction more times than I can count.

 

Let’s face it, there’s something about sex that’s frightening. There’s something about sex from which we’re never quite sure we’ll recover. Don’t believe me? Just look at how desperate conventional religion is to control sex; just look at how highly regulated erotica is compared to any other genres; just look at how disturbed the general public is by the sex act – even the sex act between two consenting adults. There’s absolutely nothing else that disturbs us quite like sex does – not even graphic violence. And if the sex is of dubious consent or transgressive in nature, then often our dark unconscious finds it even hotter still.

 

I personally think sex disturbs precisely because it arouses us. It elicits an animal response in us that nothing else does. That response is no more a choice than is our stomach grumbling when we’re hungry. That it exerts that much control over us, that we can so easily and so completely abandon ourselves to it without any certainty of what the end result might be, frightens us. What exactly is it we fear? If I had allowed myself to enjoy the fact that I was aroused on that bus, it wouldn’t have turned me into a “slut.” It wouldn’t have turned me into anything that I’m not already. It certainly wouldn’t have made me a bad person. When I’m being honest, I have to admit that there’s something seriously hot about being disturbed, and just maybe what makes it so hot is that it forces me to face desires I’d prefer to deny.

 

Sometimes the sex is disturbing because it’s with the wrong person. Who doesn’t want a seriously good villain to f*ck their brains out first, then they can count the cost later? Who doesn’t fantasize about a good shagging by a stranger whose face they never see, whose name they never know? Who doesn’t fantasize about rough sex, inappropriate sex, sex they have no control over? Perhaps this is why we’re so in love with shifters and vampires and other supernatural beings – they are a safe receptacle for forbidden sex, for disturbing orgasms.

 

Erotica writers dare to take disturbing sex, sex that comes from our deepest fantasies and write it. Anything written is suddenly far more real than it is when it’s safely tucked away in our unconscious. And when someone brings it up into the realm of conscious consideration by fictionalizing it, giving it a name, then we’re suddenly confronted with the fact that, yes, we are aroused by it, even as we’re disturbed by it. We then have to ask ourselves what that fact says about us as people?

 

To horribly paraphrase Carl Jung, what we admit and bring into conscious thought is far less likely to kick us in the arse when we least expect it while sailing naively down the river of denial. So much of becoming whole and well-rounded people is accepting who we, all of who we are, the light along with the dark. Often what disturbs us most is what we most need to embrace in order for that to happen.

 

Is that my psychological analysis? Hell no! That’s just my long-winded way of saying that reading about other people’s disturbing sex can be a real panty scorcher.

 

Here’s a disturbing little snippet from my latest release, Landscapes. I hope you find it as hot to read as I did to write.

 

Landscapes Blurb:

 

Vampire, Alonso Darlington has a disturbing method of keeping landscaper, Reese Chambers, both safe from and oblivious to his dangerous lust for the man. But Reese isn’t easy to keep secrets from, and Alonso wants way more than to admire the man from afar. Can he risk a real relationship without risking Reese’ life?

 

 

Landscapes Excerpt:

 

It was nearing dawn when Talia returned to our accommodations smelling of sex, as I knew she would if she were to obtain for me what I wanted. By then my blood burned in my veins, and my body felt too close to me, as though the flesh that I dwelt in suddenly conspired to crush me with its demands. And though I knew that Reese Chambers could not have refused her even if she had come to him as a toothless, foul-smelling hag, I hated her that he had poured himself into her body while I had been left with only my fantasies kindling my lust to an inferno.

 

Though my need was such that my flesh was fevered and my cock an insistent throb, until she returned, I held myself contained within skin that felt too thin. When she saw the state that I was in, she pulled the heavy drapes with an efficient tug, then with a nod of her head, motioned me to follow her down into the basement room that had been prepared for me. When she turned to me at the foot of the bed, before she could opened her kiss-bruised lips to speak, I took her mouth, starving for the first taste of him, the taste of his saliva, the taste of his blood, mixed with hers. She’d bitten him; he’d bitten her back. He was rough, and he liked to be treated rough, but he kept that to himself. He was embarrassed by it. His lips were slightly chapped from so much time in the sun and wind, and they’d slid against hers, suckling and stroking and pressing until her mouth opened to his. With ravenous laps of my tongue, I tasted him in her mouth, and she held back the moan of response, so I could hear the echoes of his groans, heavy with need he’d not satisfied in awhile, and I felt kinship in my own unsatisfied needs. Images of him flashed through my head. Christ, his eyes were green, dark green like the evergreen forests of the north, and he kept them open when he kissed her, taking her in with his eyes.

 

I shoved aside the silk of her low bodice exposing her breasts, breasts that his hands had cupped. My nipples peeked to sharp aching points at the feel of his calloused thumbs raking, pressing and releasing. I breathed in his scent on her breasts, burying my face in her cleavage, licking the taste of salty, slightly picante maleness, sniffing and tasting until I could stand it no more. In one violent jerk, I tore the dress all the way down and shoved it off her shoulders, away from the flesh he had licked and kissed and mounted. I cried out at the feel of him, weight on one elbow, knee spreading her thighs, fingers opening her heaviness, anxious to penetrate, anxious to relieve his need. And then, with Talia free of clothing, Reese Chambers’ essence filled the room. Talia’s panties were still wet with his semen mixed with her humid desire, and I tore them from her and forced her onto her stomach, onto her hands and knees, so that it was not her face I saw, but his that I imagined. With hands on her hips, I raised her bottom in the air and spread her still swollen, still slippery folds with fingers made awkward by my arousal, letting the scent of his hot bread and honey release intoxicate me. Then I buried my face in her snatch and, as I ate his lust from her, I knew him.

 

He was Cumbrian born and bred, and his accent was the soft lilting sound of the fells. He was a landscaper and a gardener by trade. His hands held the magic of the earth and his mind conceived ideas for beautiful outdoor spaces; those he liked best were patterned after Renaissance and medieval gardens. He was homesick and heartsick. He’d gone to Surrey to work with his father because the money was good. But his father had died recently and he had returned home to Cumbria. He didn’t care if he had to work in a pub or muck stables. He wanted to be home. He missed the people and he missed the fells. He missed the simpler, more honest rhythms of life. He was shy, even a bit reclusive. He read voraciously and widely, he liked astronomy and he was afraid of snakes, though it embarrassed him to admit it. He hadn’t had sex in a long time, and found it better to have a wank session than a meaningless encounter. The facts of him, the details of his life raced at me in a flood I consumed ravenously with each lap of my tongue.

 

As I ate Talia I felt the shape of his face, the curve of his chin, the rise and fall of his chest as he had done the same. I felt the soft tuft of bronze curls nestled between the hard rise of his pecs and the courser, deeper curls that caressed his testicles and his cock when it was at rest, but it hadn’t been at rest. How many times had he taken her? He was thick enough to fill her and the friction of him inside was delicious and maddening. The shape of him – I wanted to caress the shape of him, with my hands, with my mouth, and the taking of his essence from Talia was an act of ripping away something that should have been mine. As I bruised her arse with kneading fingers and, as I licked the last of his release from her, she managed a breathless moan. ‘Take the rest. God, Alonso, take the rest, and release me.’

 

Out Now—His Everything: A Taboo Love Story by Delilah Hunt #eroticromance

His EverythingBlurb:

Jules and I grew up together, living as brother and sister. Two different moms and the same drunk, abusive sorry excuse for a father Larry.

I’d always wondered why the old man and I couldn’t stand each other, until the day he let me know the truth–he wasn’t my real father.

When social workers finally took Jules and me away from him, she became adopted, and I bounced from foster home to foster home, landing myself in trouble until I wised up, trained like a beast and became an MMA champion fighter.

On the day Jules re-entered my life, I took one look at her cute round face and luscious curves and knew I was a goner.

There’s not a damn thing brotherly about the way I feel for my girl. Jules belongs to me, always has and I dare anyone to tell me what I feel for her is wrong or that we shouldn’t be together.

 

Warning: This is a sweet romance, packed with tension and explicit scenes and language. This is a pseudo brother-sister theme. Please do not read if this might offend you.

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2qrEXJE

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2pShRKc

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2rl11Vr

Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2pEMQhM

 

Excerpt

That single realization settles everything. Jules has to be my girl. One way or the other, she has to see we can be more to each other. On that thought, I swallow down the round of nerves threatening to take control of me and hop into my car. Half an hour later, including a drive across the bridge that connects our cities, I find myself pulling up outside the bookstore she’d mentioned. Jules is already on the sidewalk waiting for me.

I rake my gaze over her and feel my balls grow heavy with cum. Only for her. My girl’s hair is held up in a ponytail high on her head with wisps of hair tumbling beside her ears. Her dress is tight at the top, outlining her breasts and cinched at the waist. The thin material flows over her sexy hips downward to the middle of her thighs.

“You have a test or something coming up?” I ask, clearing my throat as she climbs inside to sit beside me. I hope my voice sounds normal, not shaky like I’d just imagined tearing off that dress and whatever she had on underneath to feast my eyes on her naked pussy.

She smiles at me. “Hi to you too.”

Heat races up my neck up into my cheeks. Point taken. That was less than smooth. “I only asked because you were at a bookstore and all. Figured it had something to do with your classes.”

“No,” she says, biting her lip. “I read sometimes–just for the fun of it. Once in a while, it’s nice to go inside an actual store instead of buying online.”

“All right.” I steal a glance at her while watching the road. The truth is, I’m relieved this has nothing to do with her schooling. If Jules gets ready to start talking about college and all that stuff, I won’t have anything to say. The last thing I want is to open my mouth and have her look at me like a dirty ex-con, high school dropout. Then again, I’m not even sure she knows about my time in prison.

“You don’t look bad,” she murmurs out of the blue as the car winds around a curved path leading back to the bridge.

“No?” I chuckle, wondering where she was going with this. “I never thought I did. You trying to tell me something, Jules?”

Her cheeks turn a dark strawberry shade of red. So damn sweet. Exactly how I imagine her lips to taste. “I meant because of the fight. I guess it’s a silly comment though, considering I read that the guy you fought ended up being taken to the hospital later that night.”

“He’s okay, Jules. It was just a precaution because of the strikes he took to the head. More for insurance reason than anything else. Trust me; he’s gonna take a whole lot more if he wants to stay in this sport.”

“What about you? I didn’t see you getting hit in the head.”

Concern for me again. “I know all about how dangerous head injuries are. I don’t train as hard as I do to take hits better. I train to avoid them, especially the ones to the head. It’s all a part of Harv’s coaching method and one of the reasons I train with him.”

Her shoulders relax with what looks like relief. I use this opportunity to test the waters, see how much she’s willing to admit. “Still worrying about me after all this time?”

Jules turns to face me, her eyes locked onto mine. “Always Maddox. Always.”

Always sweetness. Always. Had she noticed what I’d called her in a moment of madness over the phone? Guess so. My throat tightens and my chest aches with so much love for this girl. A moment passes between us. It feels like the air’s been sucked dry. Focusing on the road and keeping us safe, was the only thing stopping me from leaning over and sampling her luscious lips.

No Sanity.

Jules makes a little sound in her throat then sweeps her tongue across her lips while looking at me. “Did you have fun at your party Saturday night?”

“Not as much as I should have.”

“Why not? You earned that big celebration.” Her brows go up, but her voice dips, so low for a second I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly, until she adds, “Or weren’t there enough girls to keep you satisfied?”

“Keep me satisfied?” My hands tremble on the steering wheel. That comment… So unexpected. Hell, that sounds like something a jealous bitch would say. Jules is the furthest thing from a bitch. Is she jealous?

Be jealous Jules. Fuck if I don’t want her to be green and bathing in envy. If she was… I draw in a low breath, my mind racing, spinning out of control. That would mean I’m right and she sees me as more than a brother. Might even be as wet for me as I’m painfully hard for her.

“Jules…”

She shakes her head and looks toward the window. “I shouldn’t have made that comment. It was out of line.”

Her jaws tighten and her fingers are locked together, resting on her lap. All right. I’ll give her some time to cool down. “I hope you know we’re not done with this conversation.”

At that she snaps to the side, facing me with a look of utter confusion on her pretty face. “I’m sorry I said anything. There’s nothing else to discuss. Really, Maddox, it’s none of my business what you do.”

I keep quiet for a while, planning my next move. Once we’re at the gym, I kill the engine and glance over at Jules. She’ still staring out of the damn window, been at it for a good ten minutes. Annoyed, not at her but myself for not knowing the best way to get around all this bullshit, I pull the keys out of the ignition, louder than necessary to get her attention. She looks at me, blinking in surprise. Good.

“Do you want to make it your business?” I grate, unable to mask the edge of anger in my voice.

“Make what my business?”

“Me. Maybe I want you to have a say in what I do. Just like I’d like to have a say in what you do. We can be in each other’s business if that’s how you want to put it.”

She stares at me, her brows furrowing then slowly relaxing. Jules sinks a tooth into her bottom lip, appearing unsure while all I can think about is taking those lips between mine and sucking deep, while I feed my cock into her.

 

Author Bio

Delilah Hunt lives in Germany with her husband and three children. From the moment she opened her first romance novel at the tender age of twelve, she has never looked back, holding this genre close to her heart. Apart from writing and reading, Delilah Hunt loves to be outside, going for long walks and getting ideas for her next books.

If you enjoyed this book and any of her other books, please be sure to leave a review and stop by her site at www.delilahhunt.com to see what else she is working on. Thank you.

Social Media

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An Interview with Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester

Today on my blog page I’m delighted to announce I have a guest. I’m interviewing Edwardian dominatrix Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester, who’s just returned from her airship travels across the Empires of Europe. A book entitled ‘Mistress Of The Air’ has just been published containing an account of her adventures.

K D Grace: Hello, Lady Sally, thank you for allowing me to interview you today.

Lady Sally: Indeed. It’s a pleasure to talk with you. Though perhaps I can start by asking you not to stare at my breasts…it’s somewhat disconcerting.

KD: …Oh, yes, hmm, I’m sorry…

LS: I know they are rather magnificent. Indeed, they are great assets, which I use to great effect during my travels but it’s exceedingly rude to stare.

KD: Yes, ladyship it’s just they are…incredible. I’m afraid I can’t take my eyes off them.

LS: Yes, I find that’s often the case… especially for men, though it is often their undoing!

KD: Well, let me change the subject. Can you tell me about your airship?

LS: Yes, of course. The Corsetted Domme is a marvel. She is the largest and fastest dirigible ever to take to the air – a veritable ocean liner of the skies. My designers and engineers have come up with remarkable technological innovations such as the use of a duralumin frame and the geodetic structure of her design.

KD: I believe the domestic quarters are impressive.

LS: Indeed, they are. They are fitted out in teak and brass to my own specification. Naturally, my dressing room is especially large.

KD: Did you take lots of clothes with you?

LS: Yes, of course. I have several wardrobes for my corsetry alone, and then there’s the rubber and fetish wear, and my ball gowns… and my hunting gear. I went to far-flung corners of the continent so had to be prepared for different climates and every eventuality.

KD: Did you take any companions with you on your travels?

LS: Well, my transvestite maid, Victoria, comes everywhere with me. She’s a dilatory dolly at times, but extremely loyal. Then there was my airship pilot, Captain Wyndham. He’s somewhat of a dark horse, I believe. He clearly has a thing for me, indeed as most men do, but will not completely submit to me, which I find rather endearing as I like a challenge. Then there are my two brass automatons, Clarissa, who is the captain’s co-pilot and Borghild who is a sex-doll. Finally, there are my submissive gentlemen, especially chosen to attend me on this trip – a banker, a bishop, a judge and a duke. They have names… but I seem to have forgotten them.

KD: I understand you have lots of adventures across Europe. Where did you travel to?

LS: There were several of my aristocratic relatives I wanted to visit…in Vienna, Potsdam and St Petersburg. Then I simply had to do some shopping in the bazaar in Istanbul, before going to look at the erotic frescos at Pompeii, and then onto the French Empire to receive an award given to me by La Societé D’Aviation Et Les Dirigeables.

KD: That sounds like a well-planned tour.

LS: Hmm. Not exactly. I found I did have to make some hasty retreats because things went wrong. And there was a storm… one or two explosions… and a crash landing along the way. But I won’t spoil anything for your readers by telling you too much about these alarums. Needless to say, I survived them all!

KD: I know you are a woman of the world, Lady Sally, and have many business interests. Perhaps you can tell my readers about some of them.

LS: Yes, that’s very true, I have numerous business interests spread all over the globe. There’s my rubber tree plantation in Malaysia. My manufactory there produces the thinnest latex material for my outfits. I own various tea plantations in India and China which grow a huge variety of teas – I’m something of a connoisseur when it comes to tea. Then there’s a chain of brothels and bars in the wild west, shares in several Parisien burlesque clubs. Last but not least, of course, there’s my brass mine in Zanzibar…

KD: Brass mine? But surely br…

LS: … Yes, my mine produces the finest quality brass in the world…

KD: But isn’t br..

LS: …and my brass has a lustre and sheen that’s unrivalled. It’s especially valued by automaton manufacturers, you know.

KD: Perhaps I ought to move onto another subject. Do you have any hobbies?

LS: I’m very busy and don’t really find time for that kind of thing… unless one counts collecting antique whips and floggers?

KD: As an author of BDSM books, I’d be interested to hear about your particular style of domination. For instance, how do you feel about after-care or use of safe words?

LS: Excuse me, I don’t understand. What is this safe word that you speak of?

KD: You know, a special word you give to a submissive to stop play if it becomes too intense?

LS: Certainly not! My submissive gentlemen are required to obey my every whim, and if there should be one or two electrocutions or explosions along the way, then so be it!

KD: Oh, I see. And lastly, perhaps you can tell me about the worst experience you had on your travels?

LS: Well, that’s easy. Whilst visiting the Princess Maria Labiastein in Vienna I was served coffee…and at tea time! How disgusting. Her apple strudel was good though… but, I ask you, what’s the point of a fine patisserie if you don’t have a decent cup of tea to wash it down. I have vowed never to visit Vienna again!

KD: Thank you Lady Sally, it’s been most enlightening.

Mistress of the AirBook Blurb

Mistress of the Air is a Comic, Steampunk, Erotic Adventure.

Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester owns a brass mine in Zanzibar, a Lapsang Souchong tea plantation in China, a rubber tree farm in Malaysia, trunk loads of corsetry, and the country’s largest collection of antique whips and floggers.

Larger than life, and itching to find new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen, the Edwardian dominatrix has a vision. Embracing the spirit of the new age of aviation, she embarks on a series of adventures on her own airship, The Corseted Domme, with her transvestite maid, Victoria, her airship pilot, Captain Wyndham, and her automaton sex toy, Borghild.

A select group of submissive gentlemen, consisting of a duke, bishop, lawyer and banker, is invited to join Lady Sally so she can try out her new dastardly devices and sex toys on them. She whips, spanks and punishes her way across the Empires of Europe, dropping off to visit her aristocratic relatives and friends for afternoon tea.

But Lady Sally’s journey is not uneventful. War is threatening to break out and the Ministry of Aviation want to commandeer her airship for the war effort. And when The Corseted Domme has a crash landing, Lady Sally realises there is a stowaway on board intent on sabotaging her airship.

There will be wild escapades, kinky BDSM, dastardly devices, explosions and nice cups of tea.

Buy links

Ebook

Amazon US (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2qsu64J

Amazon UK (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2pxDBhr

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mistress-of-the-air-s-nano/1126181430?ean=9781545250242

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/mistress-of-the-air

Print

Amazon US (print): https://www.amazon.com/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Amazon UK (print): https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Create space/eXcessica (print): https://www.createspace.com/7078177

Extract

They arrived back at the mast where The Corseted Domme was moored to be met by a moustached gentleman in a bowler hat and pin-striped suit.

“Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester?” he enquired.

“Yes, that is me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m from the British Consulate in Essen. I am to deliver this letter to you from the Ministry of War. I’ve been directed to accompany you back to England with your airship, it’s being requisitioned by the Ministry.”

Lady Sally opened the letter and read it. It basically reiterated the message the gentleman had just conveyed. She passed it to Captain Wyndham to read.

“I’m sorry, Lady Sally,” he said, with genuine sympathy and disappointment. “And so soon after you’d set off on your adventures.”

She fixed the captain with a piercing and meaningful gaze.

“Indeed. Leave this to me captain. I shall discuss the arrangements with the gentleman from the Ministry here. In the meantime, I suggest you take the cargo aboard and fire up the engines so we can make as quick a departure as possible… for the benefit of the man from the Ministry, of course.”

She was plotting something, “Of course Lady Sally, I’ll have her ready to set off as soon as madam is aboard.”

“Thank you, captain,” she said, turning back to the gentleman as Wyndham and Victoria heaved the crate into the lift in the mooring tower.

“Well, I can’t deny I’m not disappointed, sir, but never mind, these things happen. Stiff upper lip and all that, what? You are most welcome on The Corseted Domme, I’m sure you’ll find me most accommodating.”

Lady Sally did indeed have a plan.

Stage one: play for time and lure one’s victim into a false sense of security.

“Let it not be said Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester is not a hospitable host. We must partake of some tea when we board. I’m sure you must be parched waiting out here for so long. How tiresome for you. I recommend a nice cup of Darjeeling. It makes a very refreshing brew. Did you know the leaves come from my own plantation in the foothills of the Himalayas? I am something of an expert on the subject and take pride in ensuring only the most fragrant of leaves are used in my teas…”

Lady Sally proceeded to describe her plantations in great detail and the flavours of the teas grown on them. She gave a lecture on the benefits of tea drinking (so much more invigorating than that horrid, bitter coffee stuff) and explained how the British Empire was built on tea drinking.

Eventually, after a ten-minute diatribe, Lady Sally heard the engines fire up.

Stage two: make best use of one’s assets

“Oh dear, all this talk of tea has made me quite hot and bothered.”

She removed the velvet mantle from her shoulders. Her breasts, pushed up by the corset under her dress, were beautiful orbs of white flesh. The man from the Ministry, being somewhat shorter than Lady Sally, had a view right down her cleavage. It never failed. Lady Sally had found that every male, when faced with a pair of such magnificent boobs, would lose all concentration and sense. Throughout her life this was a weakness she had learnt to exploit.

Stage three: act swiftly.

She brought her knee up into his testicles. Lady Sally’s aim was very precise; it came from years of practise. She knew the exact spot to cause the most excruciating pain. The man from the Ministry doubled up in agony.

Stage four: press home one’s advantage.

With the gentleman bent over clutching his aching balls, Lady Sally wasted no time in pushing him against the metal frame of the mooring tower. She produced coils of thin cord from within the confines of the velvet dress, and within seconds had the man’s wrists secured to the tower. She soon had his ankles tied together. The man from the Ministry did not know what had hit him.

“You dally with England’s strictest dominatrix at your peril, sir. The Corseted Domme is built for pleasure… my pleasure, and I will not have her used for any other purpose, certainly not to propagate any pointless war. I bid you good day, sir. This is a busy airship station so I expect somebody will be along soon to release you.”

At that, Lady Sally left her unfortunate victim tied to the mooring tower, and headed off for her airship.

She burst into the control room. The engines were already thrumming, and the propellers whirring. Captain Wyndham was ready for launch and Clarissa had her brass hand clutched on the tiller ready to operate the elevators.

“Set off now, captain. We need to get away as soon as possible.”

The captain gave the order to release the cable from the mooring tower. In an instance the giant dirigible reversed, turning around in one sweeping movement, and accelerated up into the air.

“Where’s the man from the Ministry?” asked Captain Wyndham.

“He’s a little tied up at the moment.”

The captain laughed. He knew Lady Sally was planning something, “How did you manage that?”

“As a strict dominatrix, I always carry rope in my undergarments, one never knows when one might require some. Oh, and I kneed him in the balls too.”

About the author

S. Nano is an author of erotic stories with dark and exotic content in fantasy, paranormal or historical settings, often drawing on the themes of female supremacy, BDSM and fetish but with a seam of quirky humour running through them as well.

His first full-length erotic novel, ‘Adventures in Fetishland’, a BDSM/fetish re-invention of Alice in Wonderland, was published by Xcite Books. His short stories and novellas have been published by Xcite Books, House of Erotica, Forbidden Fiction, Coming Together and Greenwoman Publishing.

His second novel, ‘Mistress Of The Air’ was published by eXcessica on 21st April 2017.

Web site: www.slavenano.co.uk/writing

Blog: www.slavenano.co.uk/blog

Facebook (Nano Vaslen): http://www.facebook.com/nano.vaslen

Mistress Of The Air facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Mistress-Of-The-Air-1671491076492099/

Pinterest: http://uk.pinterest.com/nanovaslen/

Amazon UK author profile: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B005EBU1QI

Amazon US author profile: https://www.amazon.com/Slave-Nano/e/B005EBU1QI/

Goodreads author profile: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6828376-slave-nano

*****

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