Category Archives: Guest Blogger

Chocoholic Needs Your Unctuous Chocolate Themed Stories!

February 3, 2014Blog, Guest Bloggercall for submissions, Chocoholics, erotica, Kev Mitnik Blisse, Smutters, tilly hunterK D Grace

Do you love Chocolate?

Do you write Erotica?

Did you know you could combine the two into a decadent delight?

Last year lots of wonderful Erotic Writers did just that to bring you “Smut for Chocoholics” (http://smutters.co.uk/smut-for-chocoholics)

This year we want lots more of the same with “More Smut for Chocoholics” (you know one chunk is just never enough!) so we want your chocolate themed erotica, it can be from any genre even fantasy, sci-fi, historical or futuristic as long as it has an erotic twist and features chocolate somehow. We are looking for stories between 3,000 – 6,000 words. So have a few sticks of your choccy of choice and get inspired!

The rest of the information about the call for subs can be found at http://smutters.co.uk/calls-for-subs/more-smut-for-chocoholics

Kay Jaybee Takes Control

January 29, 2014Blog, Guest Blogger, New Releases1001 Nights Press, anthology, BDSM, erotica, female submission, Kay Jaybee, new releaseK D Grace

A big thank you once again to my dear friend Kd Grace, for letting me come and play at her place today!

Over the past few years I’ve moved a fair way away from my writing roots as a complier of short sexy stories, concentrating instead on novella and novel writing. I love writing these longer erotic adventures, but every now and then I like to go back to where it all began, and blast out a burst or two of instant kink.

When my career in smuttage first started, I was lucky enough to work for the much missed Oysters and Chocolate erotica web site. During my time with them I penned dozens of stories, four of which appear in my newest anthology.

Published by 1001 NightsPress (the home of my incredibly kinky courier novella, Not Her Type), this fresh fantasy collection is called Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission

Blurb
Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission is a collection of toe curlingly sexy tales of bondage and female submission from the pen of best selling writer Kay Jaybee. From a spankingly delicious Dinner With Tess, to a Staged public sex fantasy, an unforgettable alfresco hosing in Deluged, a kinky scientific Experiment, and the realisation of a long held threesome fantasy in The Necklace, Take Control offers five bite sized stories that will satisfy any lover quality erotica.

Here’s an extract from Dinner With Tess

Tess was aware she was being watched. As she danced, she became increasingly self-conscious under the scrutiny of the unknown man’s piercingly clear blue eyes. Signalling through the deafening noise of the club’s heaving dance floor, Tess managed to communicate to her friend Claire that she
wanted to sit down. Tess was sure that if she stopped dancing, the man would find someone else on whom to focus his unnerving attention.

She was wrong. He continued to observe her, unblinking, as having purchased some much-needed refreshment, Tess and Claire leant against the stainless steel rail that surrounded the club and
surveyed the throng cavorting before them.

‘Do you see that guy over there?’ Tess asked Claire as discreetly as the musical din would allow. ‘No, don’t let him see you look! He’s been watching me for ages.’

‘Lucky you!’ Claire ignored the worried edge to her friend’s voice and grinned approvingly towards the tall, thick set, casually handsome man, with penetrating blue eyes. ‘He’s gorgeous.’

‘A bit daunting, though, don’t you think?’

‘Daunting? Oh, Tess, honestly, live a little.’ Claire, who hadn’t a cautious bone in her body, stared directly at the stranger. ‘If he’s interested in you, go for it, have a fling. It looks as if he’d give you a
good time.’

‘Claire! Really! He’s way out of my league.’

‘Don’t be such a mouse! You’re a good-looking lass, smashing red hair, cute little body. Relax a bit, will you?’

Tess risked a glance in the stranger’s direction. She felt her pulse quicken anxiously as he noticed her furtive look, and with slow purposeful movements, approached. When he told her his name was
Jon, and that he was going to buy her a drink, Tess’s mouth hadn’t been able to find the words to say anything, so he’d simply gone and fetched one anyway.

From that moment, she had been ensnared, hypnotised by Jon’s strength, his quiet authority, and the promise of an undiscovered lust, which seemed to reflect back at her from his deep shining eyes.
Tess had spent the early part of the morning in the kitchen. This was to be the first time Jon introduced her to his friends, and Tess had suggested she cook for them. A roast chicken perhaps? Something warm and welcoming to greet them on their return from the photography club meeting they were attending.

Jon had smiled his sexy smile and agreed that a trussed-up bird sounded exactly like something they’d all appreciate. Tess had been thrilled when he congratulated her idea by fucking her unceremoniously against the kitchen door.

She’d never met anyone like him before. Jon seemed consumed by lust, and, even though it had been almost a month since they’d met, Tess still found it hard to believe she was the centre of his attention.
As he was obviously a dominant man, she had been quickly awarded the role of submissive; and to her surprise, and perhaps aided by her natural reticence, had discovered that she rather liked being told how to behave, what to wear, and what to say.

Jon’s laughing voice echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen as Tess went to greet his friends.

‘Here she is!’ Jon’s arm swept around his girlfriend. ‘Tess, meet Jack and Ed, my friends from the club.’

‘Hello.’ She spoke clearly, trying to cover her shyness. As she shook their hands, Tess couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable by the way they looked at her. It was as if they were assessing her in some way, and she suddenly felt very aware of the shortness of her denim skirt and the thinness of her white cotton blouse.

‘Most lovely.’ Jack nodded approvingly at Jon.

‘She’ll do well.’ Ed’s eyes x-rayed Tess as he spoke.

A private shiver shot up Tess’s spine. Do well for what?…

****

If you’d like to find out what happens to Tess, you can buy Take Control from-
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HYI8BHA

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00HYI8BHA

Thanks again KD!!

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xxx
****

Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

You can follow Kay on Twitter- 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

Queen’s Quest by Suz deMello

January 24, 2014Guest Blogger, New ReleasesEllora's Cave, erotic romance, erotica, new release, queen's quest, romance, sci-fi, science fiction, suz demelloK D Grace

Blurb:

Janus is a planet that lacks both tilt and spin. Shadowlands is the pewter band of dusk dividing the violently hot Lightside of the planet from its Darkside, which is imprisoned by eternal night. Birth rates on the planet are low and indiscriminate mating and ménage sex are encouraged.

Audryn, Queen of Shadow, has reached that time in her life when she must choose a King to rule with her or fail to bear an heir, casting not only her realm but all of Janus into chaos. Despite her duty, she is reluctant to share power, even a bit distrustful. Janus’ nobles vie for Audryn’s hand. Although she enjoys trysting with all her suitors, none seize her heart.

Then Storne, the warrior Prince of Darkness, arrives to claim her as his bride, and she finds she cannot resist his masterful ways.

Inside Scoop: This book contains lots of hot ménage action including a F/F/M scene.

Buy link: http://www.ellorascave.com/queen-s-quest.html

*****

Excerpt:

I sent a message to Storne, the Prince of Darkness, requesting that he attend me toward the end of my toilette, and told Maia to prepare me with especial care for that evening’s dinner. I sent out all other servants so I could speak with her privately about him.

As I reclined on a golden velvet settee, she shaved me, a bolster beneath my hips and my legs wide so my pussy was accessible. With quick, deft strokes of the razor, she cleared the curls from both sides of my delta, then from my labia, so the area ‘round my clitoris was smooth. She then cleansed me with a damp cloth before massaging my sex flesh with lotion scented with soothing lavender and chamomile.

I raised my arms above my head, lifting my breasts so they crinkled in the cool air. Storne, I thought, and I tingled from head to toe. “What did you think of him?”

She did not ask me the subject of my question, but said, “I like him. He is direct and honest in his ways, and has the respect of his men.” She fluffed a powderpuff between my thighs.

I sighed, my pussy throbbing. “How large is his…entourage?”

“Large enough, I trow. The DarkDwellers make dwarves of us all.”

“I have a task for you.”

Maia set the shaving implements on the sideboard, then turned to regard me with her fullest attention. I sat up and took a hairbrush, handing it to her. As she brushed, I talked.

“I do not wish the leaders of Darkness and Light to ever be alone together.”

She paused, and the brush stilled. “I see your concern. If they join against Shadow, we would have no chance against their combined forces.”

“Yes. We would be squeezed like an orange in a press, the life-giving juices extracted and the dry husk left to rot.” Fear twisted deep in my belly.

The brushing resumed. “Kaldir strikes me as ignorant of statecraft.”

“I agree. He may not have thought of such a strategy, but Storne…”

“Yes. I, also, believe it must have occurred to the Prince of Darkness. Storne is far too canny a warrior to allow this opportunity to pass unheeded.”

“Or at least considered the possibilities. He has a reputation as a fine soldier.”

The brushing concluded, she tugged at a bellpull. “I will make certain that Darkness and Light do not merge. But you must also do your part.”

I smiled. “That will be my pleasure.”

Several of my ladies entered, opening wardrobes and bringing out gowns for my inspection. Others braided my hair and pinned it to the top of my head like a crown while others rimmed my eyes with charcoal, pinkened my lips with a rose tint. With unaccustomed nerves, I dithered over my choices, wondering which dress or what color would most entice Storne. I finally said, “The rose pink, the one trimmed with gold lace.” I felt overheated, and the gown was of thin, slick satin. Cooling, as in cooling my lust. I did not want to indulge in hasty actions with the Prince of Darkness.

I continued, “And high shoes. I do not wish to look like a dwarf.”

Maia emitted a sharp bark of laughter as she found pink stockings, which were fastened above my knees with ruffled garters of golden lace. She draped a pink chemise over my head, which was followed by a matching corset, laced tightly to show my narrow waist and lift my breasts. I slid my feet into the heeled slippers, and as the satin gown was tossed over my head, I heard a door open, followed by the clatter of boots.

“Lord Storne.” Maia’s tone was respectful.

I shook my head free of the enveloping folds of lace and satin as she tugged the gown into place. “Good evening,” I said.

“Audryn.” Without being bidden, he approached. He reached for me, then stopped. “May I?”

“Y-yes.” I did not know what he intended, but…

His smile transformed his angular face. He wrapped a big hand behind my neck. His grasp was firm, warm, the skin of his palm a little rough, from swordplay or riding, I imagined. I tried to breathe through a tight, nervous throat.

He kissed me full on the lips, rather than a chaste buss on my cheek, which would have been proper. Though he did not intrude his tongue, the contact was warm, vital and vigorous, hinting at the pleasure we could share.

As he withdrew, his gaze met mine, the gray eyes demanding, gentle and amused. How he packed so many emotions into one glance was a mystery to me. I told myself I was imagining more in his look than actually was there.

I had become infatuated by the Prince of Darkness swiftly…far too swiftly. That was bad. I could not make decisions affecting the history and welfare of my realm based on a passing fancy.

Maia bustled around me, fastening golden earbobs onto my lobes, bracelets on my wrists. Another lady laced my gown up the back. I was grateful for their presence, for the respite that the mundane tasks afforded; I could collect myself, regain my lost poise.

When I was dressed, Storne said, “Let’s walk before dinner.”

“Certainly.” I donned long, pink satin gloves. Fingerless, they wouldn’t impede me when eating or touching. Again, anxiety cramped me to the guts, but I laid a hand onto his elbow.

He had bathed from top to toe. Most of his dark mane hung loose, but the thick locks at each side of his face were braided, leaving his features, angular but pleasing, exposed. Amber and musk from the EastMarch scented his hair. He wore fine garments subdued in color: deep blue shot and trimmed with silver. The hue complemented his coloring. Hose of the same rich tone limned brawny legs. He was aware of Shadowland fashion, for his codpiece was large and embroidered with thick silver thread. His velvet doublet bore a design with the sacred oak and fiery mountain, traditional symbols of Darkside nobility, nature-worshippers all.

His gray eyes continued expressive, holding intelligence and humor, and his mouth was unexpectedly sensual. A fantasy image of his lips caressing my pussy drifted across my mind.

He led me through the palace with a sure step, showing no uncertainty. Our respective retinues followed. Behind me, the train of my gown swept the slates, but as it didn’t have panniers or hoops, our bodies occasionally bumped as we walked. Each contact shot a scintillating trail of desire along my skin.

“Do you know your way? Where are we going?” I asked.

He cast me an amused glance. “I had a free hour to explore your castle. It is an admirable stronghold.”

He took me to the same terrace where I’d so joyously given my virginity on my Exhibition Day. When our servants attempted to follow, I said, “It’s all right. There are plenty of people below.”

True enough; down on the lawns, tearing apart the sod, a herd of magnificent taqqa milled and stamped, huge animals with shaggy ochre-colored pelts, massive humped shoulders and curved horns, themselves long, sharp weapons. Some of the beasts were mounted by armored warriors almost as big as Storne, while the rest were laden. Servants, both Shadowlanders and Darksiders, busily unloaded and stacked boxes, baskets, trunks, rugs and portmanteaux. That our people worked together amicably was not lost on me.

“For you,” Storne said.

I stared at him.

“Tribute.”

My eyes widened. “You owe me no tribute, and you cannot buy me.”

“No, but I see that I must woo you.” That smile again, so unexpected from such a solemn mien. “I am but a rough warrior, but I wish to be your rough warrior.”

Pleasure robbed me of speech. I was touched by his courtliness, so at odds with his earlier arrogance. And he was an astute judge of character. He had taken my measure immediately and adjusted his approach. He had also come prepared for any eventuality.

He took out a small pouch from a hidden pocket in his doublet. “My first gift to you.”

My face felt too small for my smile. “Thank you.” Excited, I reached for the red satin bag, hoping it contained jewelry. Darkside boasted a wealth of minerals and gems, and its artisans excelled in the craft of jewelry design.

He pulled it out of my reach. “Let me show you. Rumor tells me that women of the Shadowlands enjoy this kind of gift, and I will enjoy knowing that you wear it.” He tugged apart the drawstring at the pouch’s top and upended it above his cupped palm. A stream of molten gold spilled forth, resolving into a fine chain, nearly three feet long.

Puzzled, I took it out of his hand and held it up to examine it by the light of the torches lining the marble terrace. The chain had little scissor-like appendages at each end, each maybe the size of my thumbnail. The scissors had curved blades that weren’t sharp but were lined with tiny seed pearls, leaving a circular gap in the center perhaps the size of a baby pea. The ends were curlicued to wrap around each other.

I raised my brows at Storne.

“Allow me.” But he didn’t take the chain, instead reaching for my bodice.

I gasped and pulled away. “Sir, you presume too much.”

“Do I?” He paced the length of the terrace, then returned. “Audryn, there is only one sure test of our ability to rule together, and this mating is a radical step neither of us can take without some…experimentation. I know you approach your seventeenth starturn, and you have sworn to crown your king on that day.”

My jaw tightened. “Your spies are most effective.”

“Thus, time grows short. Please.” He reached for me again, and this time I did not resist. He was right; besides, I wanted him to touch me intimately. Though his hands were rough, he handled my breasts with tenderness, lifting them above the gown and away from the corset’s confinement, resting them atop my lace-trimmed neckline. Cool air washed my breasts, a delightful sensation. My nipples wrinkled. He passed a hand over the mounded flesh, traced one curved pink aureole’s edge. Need flared through me, and my pussy dampened anew.

He smiled. “I suppose that I will have to learn to enjoy the public sex that your customs demand. And I may as well begin…now.” He slid an arm around me and bent his head to kiss first one nipple and then the other, licking around the aureole, sucking to lengthen the tips until they were hard and distended.

He gripped my left one between his teeth and gave it a sharp little nip. I gasped, “Storne!”

“Did that hurt?”

“A little.”

He rubbed his lips over the tiny pain he’d caused, and the sting dissolved into a haze of pleasure. He took one of the scissorlike appendages and opened the clasp, then closed it around my swollen nipple.

The tiny pearls gripped the very tip of my breast, lighting a spark of need that zipped to my pussy. I rested my face against his chest, breathing deeply in a vain attempt to control my reaction. I felt heat in my cheeks and the softness of his velvet doublet, my pulsing clit…an array of dizzying sensations.

He dropped the chain, and the slight weight tugging on my nipple built my pussy’s spark into a fire. He lifted my right breast higher and pinched my nipple, kissed and licked the tip. When it also swelled, he fastened the other clip to it. The fire roared into a blaze, and I grabbed his shoulders, flinging back my head. He laid a trail of kisses across my bare chest, up to my throat, along my jawline before he reached my lips.

This time, he took my mouth with a commanding kiss, holding me so tightly that I could feel the embroidery on his doublet abrade my naked breasts. My captured nipples rubbed across velvet, scraped across silver thread. I tore my lips away from his and I cried out, heedless of the warriors and servants below. I cared for nothing but the man who held me in his arms, who had claimed me when he chained my breasts, took my mouth.

*****

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Liquid Silver Books and Ai Press, where she is currently Managing Editor. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.
–Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

–For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

–Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift, and visit her group at

http://www.facebook.com/HotWriters

–She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

–Her current blog is http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com

Slave Nano Talks About Regulating our Fantasies and the Use of Safe Words

January 17, 2014Blog, Guest BloggerBDSM, erotica, regulating our fantasies, safe words, sensorship, sex, slave nanoK D Grace

It’s my pleasure to welcome Slave Nano to my blog today. Nano read Sunday’s post about the use of condoms in erotic fiction and has kindly offered to do a blog on another way in which our fantasies are regulated. Welcome, Nano.

Thanks to K D for having me on her blog page today. Indeed my contribution is a response to her own blog, Regulating Fantasies, in which she discusses the topic of safe sex in erotic fiction and in particular whether stories should portray the use of condoms to encourage responsible sex. I agree completely with her argument that our readers are intelligent enough to realise that erotic fiction is a work of imagination and understand the difference between fantasy and the real world. I don’t believe it’s the place of erotic authors to write manuals for safe sex.

It occurred to me that the corresponding stricture on writers of BDSM erotica concerns the use of safe words. There is something of a mantra that safe words are the touchstone of safe play but I don’t believe that’s the case, neither in the writing of erotic fiction nor indeed in real play.

There are two acronyms in use to define the principles of sensible consensual BDSM, one is SSC (Safe Sane Consensual) and the other is RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink). The crucial difference between the two is that the latter accepts some activities involve an element of risk which participants acknowledge. There seems to be an assumption that safe words constitute safe play. On the face of it, this sounds so easy and obvious; one person is given a word that stops or controls an activity. But it’s far more complex than that.

I’m not going to be prescriptive, people will express their BDSM writing and relationships in different ways and safe words may have a role to play. My point is that no one way is right for everybody. Sometimes I’m convinced this mantra that safe word = safe play is expounded by people who have no experience of BDSM. Indeed, I would go further and say that safe words aren’t even safe! Let me explain.

Safe words can lead to lazing ‘domming’ and that is dangerous. What keeps a sub safe is an experienced, aware and responsible domme (I’m assuming female domme for purposes of this piece) watching her submissive all the time, gauging his responses and judging how best to develop a scene. A domme sitting back waiting for a safe word and failing to engage fully with her play-partner is an unsafe practise as she will miss those critical reactions to stimuli.

Safe words don’t take into account the psychology of submission. The whole point about the relationship between a dominant and submissive is the surrendering of control to another person. Safe words get in the way of that. In an intense scene a submissive attains a state in which he will go anywhere, do anything for that other person. A person in that state of mind is not always in a position to make considered choices. His focus is on serving and being taken as far as his mistress leads him. In these circumstances the judgement of an experienced domme is a much better safeguard than a safe word.

Edgy is part of it. Once again, this is about the psychology of submissiveness. Edgy is exciting, it contributes to the sense of anticipation and being thrust into the unknown gets the adrenaline going and the endorphins rushing to your head. Safe words miss the point. Humans knowingly do illogical and hazardous things and part of the BDSM experience is about taking that risk.

So, to sum up, if you trust the person you’re doing this with you don’t need a safe word and if you don’t trust them, be honest, a safe word isn’t going to do you any good anyway.

Ok, let’s get back to the writing now. The extract below is from my book Adventures in Fetishland. It is part of a scene with cling film mummification and breath play. The setting of the book may be fantasy (it being a BDSM/fetish reinvention of the Alice stories) but underpinning it all is a psychological relationship between dominant and submissive that is real. This is edgy play for my two characters. To have a safe word lurking in the background would undermine the whole purpose of the scene, which is to show my main character, Kim, demonstrate her trust in the Red Queen; as I think any discerning reader would recognise.

So, I support K D on this one in opposing the regulating of fantasies, whether that be in authors portraying safe sex in erotic writing or safe words in BDSM writing. I don’t believe authors who write BDSM should succumb to the demands of the safe word police.

You can find out more about me and my writing at http:/slavenano.co.uk

Extract from Adventures in Fetishland

As the Egyptian goddess worked up her body pulling the cling film as tight as she could Kim felt strands of her long hair brush against her flesh and smelt her sweet and exotic scent. She worked especially hard to pull the cling film over Kim’s tits and ensure that her soft mounds of flesh and her engorged nipples were wrapped tight.

She had reached Kim’s neck. How far would she go?

“You trust me?”

“Mmm,” Kim was in a sensual daze and could only mutter her approbation.

“Take this and make sure you hold it tightly between your teeth. Don’t let it go.”

She inserted a plastic tube into Kim’s mouth. Kim’s heart jumped a beat. What did this mean?

The cling film was wrapped around her neck and then twisted around the plastic tube to hold it firmly into place. Kim was wetting herself with fear and anticipation. She knew what was going to come next and, although part of her couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to be offered up for this mummification ritual, another part of her desperately wanted to surrender herself to it. It was this latter part that won over as she laid there quietly, submissively, yearning to be enveloped completely and give herself up.

“This is the gateway Kim, the path into another world for you. The jackal-headed god Anubis is here to ease your path through it,” she said acknowledging the presence of the duchess in the mask. Kim drank in this moment before she was deprived of sight, perhaps of breath and life itself. Leaning over her was the imperious dark haired figure of the Egyptian goddess arraigned in golden jewellery and precious stones with her piercing blue eyes that penetrated right into her soul. Next to her was the snout headed figure of Anubis beckoning her on, inviting her to take a further step into this strange world she had committed herself to. She had one last chance to look down at herself, a bizarre figure mummified in white cling film. Kim thought she looked fantastic; very exotic and sexy in a bizarre way. She took one deep draft of air through her nose before the cling film wrapped around her face, over her eyes and ears until finally her head was covered. She tried to imagine what she looked like now, a cocoon of white with a plastic tube sticking out of her mouth.

Deprived of sight, sound and smell and with only the taste of the plastic tube in her mouth, she was totally immersed in the sensation of the thick white film clinging to her body. She drew in deep gasps of air through the tube, that very act making her head spin even more. The psychological sensation of surrender and submission was overpowering. She was immersed in her own body, the overwhelming feeling being that of the tight cling film holding her in. She felt herself drifting off and would have loved to have floated in this submissive nether-world for ever but then suddenly something yanked her back to a perverse kind of reality and an awareness that there were still other people in the room, even though the sense of them seemed to be some distance away.

Buy links

At the moment Adventures in Fetishland is available for the insanely cheap price of 39p/$0.64

Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/Adventures-Fetishland-length-erotic-novel-ebook/dp/B008G3N4HO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389727790&sr=8-1&keywords=adventures+in+fetishland

Amazon.co.uk

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Adventures-Fetishland-length-erotic-novel-ebook/dp/B008G3N4HO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389727450&sr=8-1&keywords=adventures+in+fetishland

Voyeuristic Fun with Kay Jaybee

January 15, 2014Blog, Guest BloggerK D Grace

It’s always a pleasure to have my good friend, the Queen of BDSM, Kay Jaybee over at my place. Today the eyes have it with some voyeuristic fun. Welcome, Kay!

One of the biggest attractions in the world of erotica is voyeurism. That feeling of being on the edge of someone’s forbidden world and peeping in- often secretly- is a big turn on. It is also extremely exciting to write from a voyeuristic perspective. I’ve taken this literary route for many of my novels and stories over the years- most obviously for my erotic BDSM 3-some romance novel, The Voyeur!

However, it isn’t that story that I’m going to share a little bit with you today- but inspired by the arrival of a circus in my local town this very day, it is my novella, The Circus.

When it comes to voyeurism the there is no location more suitable than one with an auditorium- the theatre, ballet, opera- or perhaps the circus.

As a child I always found the circus a rather sinister place, full of scary clowns, overconfident acrobats, and fake smiles. What better location then, to set a full throttle sexual showcase?

The Circus is set in a crumbling decrepit theatre, where a business man with strong voyeuristic leanings, has set up an exclusive event. A place where fellow observers of the erotic arts, can pay an extortionate amount of money to watch- and perhaps join in- a monthly display of BDSM antics.

Blurb

When Carrie’s partner Scott buys her a ticket for the Circus, she isn’t at all sure she will enjoy what she’ll see. An uncertainty that jumps to fear, when the strict, whip wielding Ringmaster calls out Carrie’s ticket number, and she realises she isn’t going to have to simply watch- she is to be the subject of the bondage and punishment spectacle to come. What the hell will her boyfriend say? And where is Scott anyway?

Extract

One hundred quid a ticket!

Carrie still couldn’t believe Scott could afford to pay so much to secure her a seat in the small, run-down theatre. It wasn’t as if she was even guaranteed any action. Everything was deliberately uncertain. But then, as he had assured her, that was part of the attraction.

Perspiration was dotting down the back of her neck, and the more Carrie thought, the more she wondered if perhaps she didn’t actually want anything to happen. That it might be better just to watch, better not to win the lottery that would change her from being a mere observer of events to a prime player in the evening’s entertainment.

Even though the room was packed, every thinly covered velvet seat taken, no one looked at anyone else. No one regarded their neighbour. No one gave a friendly smile of greeting as they waited for something to happen. All eyes were focused towards the stage. There was a hushed buzz to the neglected theatre, as if the ghosts of a thousand performances had been trapped within the walls.

In the centre of the stage sat a collection of left over props from dramas long past. At first glance it appeared to be merely abandoned clutter, but as Carrie examined the items more shrewdly, she began to suspect that everything had been carefully and cleverly placed.

An oak coffee table and bench supported two legs of an iron-framed double-bed, which was devoid of either linen or mattress. Next to the sloping bed, heaped to the left side, a pile of old wooden chairs were haphazardly stacked. On the opposite side was a fallen umbrella stand, apparently tipped over

by the weight of the walking sticks, canes, and what Carrie suspected were Victorian style shooting sticks. She felt her pulse quicken. You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out what that lot could be used for.

Carrie could feel the heat of her skin prickle beneath her chestnut ponytail. She sat wishing that Scott hadn’t been called away on yet another dire work-related emergency, and that he could be there with her. More than a little self-conscious, she fidgeted with her outfit. Playing safe, she’d decided to wear black. Black thigh length boots, black pleated mini skirt, black stockings, and a black chest hugging lace-up basque, with strings that only just managed to conceal the pale freckled chest over which it had been stretched. She knew she looked like a slutty walking cliché. But then again, in this place, at this time, that was entirely the point.

The unnervingly tinny music that had been droning from a speaker in the far corner of the room abruptly stopped. Carrie could feel the tension in the theatre double, and for the first time she allowed herself a fleeting survey of the other members of the audience. The competition. An almost even split of about sixty men and women, all dressed as either Dominants or Submissives, all aged between about twenty-five and forty-five. The room rippled with erotic anticipation.

When Scott had told her about The Circus, the new show that had taken over the city’s long empty theatre, Carrie had thought it really was a circus. A family show with clowns, scantily clad acrobats, and the odd juggler. She had, to his amusement, waxed lyrical about how much she’d loved the circus as a child. She was soon disabused of her naivety.

Increasingly aware of the clammy sheen of nerves on her palms, Carrie still wasn’t quite sure how Scott had talked her into coming here without him. But her curiosity had gotten the better of her, just like he’d known it would. He had insisted that, with her private personal preferences, she would be in her element having her bum smacked in front of a select group of eroticists. Carrie wasn’t so sure. Having her ass roundly whipped by Scott in the sanctity of her flat while he ordered her to crawl around the floor was one thing — but this was different. This was voyeurism on speed. The almost animal gleam to her lover’s eyes however, when he told her how much he was looking forward to a blow-by-blow account of her experience, added an extra dimension to the tingle of fearful anticipation that played in her stomach.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a gravelly masculine voice bellowed over a speaker system that crackled from the effects of dust and lack of use. “Welcome to The Circus. I would ask you all to abide by your hosts decisions, and only mount the stage if and when you are invited to do so. Sit back and enjoy. It’s show time!!”

There is no denying the attraction of stories with voyeurism as their base. The basic curiosity within so many of us makes it a salacious idea – the thought of might we might see if we were to peer behind closed doors, or peek through that key hole- especially if we have the sneaky feeling that those within secretly want to be observed….DELICIOUS!!

Many thanks once again to the wonderful KD Grace for letting me visit her site again today!!

Happy reading everyone,

Kay Jaybee xxx

Kay Jaybee wrote the novels The Retreat – Part 2 of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (Xcite, 2013), Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), The Perfect Submissive (Xcite 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2^nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 80 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.