I don’t know about you, but I’ve certainly been waiting for the Best! The Best of Kay Jaybee, that is. And now the waiting is over. The Queen of BDSM herself, is here to tell us all about her new release.
I can’t quite believe how much has happened in the last few months! A new novel (Making Him Wait, Sweetmeats Press), a re-launched book (The Collector, Austin & Macauley), and now The Best of Kay Jaybee is out- A collection of my very own- I can’t quite believe it!!
It’s all SO exciting!!!
The wondrous KD has invited me along today to give you a tasty taster of one of the fourteen stories- here’s the blurb to start with!
Fourteen of the very best erotic tales of dominance, submission, bondage, and romantic lust, are delivered with lashings of kink from the pen of Kay Jaybee. From the sexual adventures recalled by a woman as she stares at her favourite shirt, to a deliciously dirty orgy on a bed of cardboard boxes, the after-hours education of a rookie soldier, and the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, each story shows why Kay Jaybee has been hailed as ‘a master of the craft of erotica’ (Oysters and Chocolate). As a girl writes messages of lust on the body of her best friend’s lover, and a mistress’s employment of ropes and chains on her slave co-insides with the application of emulsion, we discover just how Kay has earned her reputation for producing ‘super-heated kinky stories,’ (Kd Grace), which are ‘a sublime pleasure to read’ (Violet Blue).
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So which of the fourteen tales do I share with you? A touch of erotic romance, a threesome, some BDSM kink…? Decisions decisions…
How about some museum erotica…Egyptology department I think…
Bastet
Before he got the job behind the scenes at the museum, he had imagined that the place would be dusty, dark and perhaps, considering the contents of the room, eerie. This was not the case.
These carefully collected items had finished their time amongst the dust and now lived in a spotless, sanitised environment. The lighting was just bright enough to be able to work by, yet not bright enough to damage the precious remains. There were only two things that he found mildly uncomfortable about the working conditions; the first was the temperature, a constant tepid, which was too hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. The second was his boss.
He was aware that she often watched him. If they’d worked anywhere else, then perhaps he would have been worried about what their colleagues would think, but here it was just the two of them. Just him, his boss, an open stone sarcophagus, two mummies in the final preparations of being made ready for display, several priceless bronze statutes, some chipped but irreplaceable Canopic jars, and drawer after drawer of miniature Egyptian statues; votive offerings to the Ancient dead.
There was something very cat-like about his senior colleague. She was as tall as he was, slim, but with a hardness about her; she had slick black hair, which swung from side to side as her feline body moved around the room. No, that was wrong, she didn’t move, she slunk, she glided. Her eyes, a brilliant green, were wide, shiny, and always accentuated by heavy black kohl. At first he’d wondered if she used false colour contacts, but had a feeling she probably didn’t. Perhaps she’d always been like this, or maybe ten years amongst Egyptian paraphernalia had turned her into a living representation of the cats that ancient race venerated so highly.
He shook himself out of his thoughts, and concentrated on carefully revealing the latest object to be leant to the museum for the forthcoming ‘Ancient Death’ exhibition, before he could head home. A mountain of polystyrene chips quickly removed, he donned a pair of thin medical gloves to pull out the hidden contents of the crate.
As he bent to put his hands carefully around the unknown item, he could feel her behind him. She never made any noise when she moved, but he knew that she was there by the warm breath that now tickled the back of his neck. Ignoring her, and the rather confusing and frustrating semi-aroused state her presence seemed to keep him in, he carefully uncovered the muslin clothes that provided the exhibit’s final layer of protection.
They both gasped in wonder as he revealed the beautiful treasure that lay before them. Carved from wood, its paint faded, but not gone, a death mask stared back at them. He’d never seen anything like it, for it was not the mask of a boy or a man, but of a cat. Human sized, the mask represented the cat goddess, Bastet.
His boss stretched out a thin-gloved hand and stroked the mask with a single finger, before sliding her body in front of his. Audibly holding her breath, she took a firm hold of the artefact with both hands and heaved, releasing it fully from the travelling box. It was perfect. Light but sturdy, its back strap complete, a priceless tribute to a forgotten goddess.
Despite knowing a great deal about Ancient Egypt, but for the fact that cats were sacred to them, he knew few details about their feline obsession. His boss, her chest visibly heaving beneath her black, skin-tight top, began to whisper in awe, half talking to him, half to the mask itself.
‘I’ve seen smaller versions of these in bronze, and I know that wooden cat coffins were regularly made, many hundreds were found at Bubastis, the biggest centre of cat worship, but I’ve never seen …’ Her husky voice trailed off and her eyes sparkled. This object, this rare find was actually turning her on; he could see her nipples poke out and harden beneath her top as she handled the rare find.
Even before she did it, he knew what was going to happen next. He turned so he could watch her as, with an uncharacteristic disregard for preservation, she placed the mask over her head, trapping her sleek hair beneath its wooden strap. Dropping to her knees, she purred around his feet, rubbing her arched back against his legs as if she was a cat showing affection.
His mouth went dry. Common sense told him that the situation was insane, but curiosity and the erection that dug against the side of his trousers, told him that he needed to see what she’d do next.
She stood and, from beneath the mask, commanded him to remain exactly where he was. He didn’t move as she prowled over to the large cupboard at the back of the room.
When she reappeared a few moments later, she was naked but for the mask. Gulping at the sight of the firm flesh about which he’d often fantasized he stared. She seemed to glow as she stalked towards him, her prey, every inch the cat goddess. The living Bastet.
He felt clumsy, unworthy and, at a signal from his boss, he knelt before her, humbled and wanting. It no longer felt mad, just incredibly sexy.
She circled around him three times, muttering words he didn’t understand, his eyes following her, his lips now moist, hungry to feast on this extraordinary figure.
‘Follow,’ she commanded as she walked away from him, towards the large wooden table they used to examine, preserve and analyse the historical artefacts that came their way. He went to stand, but a sharp gesture from her hand made it clear that he was supposed to crawl after her.
This was so new to him; he’d never subjugated himself before a woman, before anyone. It felt strange, suffocating, and belittling, yet at the same time, oddly liberating, as if the pressure of taking control and ensuring the woman’s pleasure had been lifted from his shoulders.
He reached the area of the polished tile floor by the table and waited, subservient. She crouched down and tilted his head up with a single finger so he could observe her. Her bronzed skin shone with a gloss that radiated under the artificial lights. Her hands, their slim fingers topped off with turquoise nail varnish, began to fondle her breasts and caress her torso, stopping short of her neatly trimmed pussy hair, she teased herself as well as her waiting slave.
With an effort, made plain by the whimper the mask failed to hide, she halted her self-stimulation and placed her hands on her hips. ‘Dog, you will serve me.’
Dog? He was a dog? It hadn’t occurred to him, but surely dogs had been powerful gods in Egypt as well, Anubis for example. Then he remembered, even the God of the Dead could not harm a living cat. For a split second he decided he didn’t want to play her bizarre game anymore, but then she changed his mind…
If you fancy finding out what happens next, or seeing what other stories are buried in the e-pages of The Best of Kay Jaybee, then you can buy it on Amazon UK and Amazon US.
You can find further details of this anthology, and all my other novels, novellas, and story collections at my web site- www.kayjaybee.me.uk
A huge thank you to KD for inviting me to her superb site!
Kay xxx
Private Damien Stone is living in a nightmare. He’s out on exercise on Salisbury Plain with Lance Corporal Michael Scott—who also happens to be a huge pain in the arse. He’s a teacher’s pet who seems to delight in bossing Stone around. But that’s not the real reason Stone appears to dislike him so much. It’s because Stone—who’s bisexual—is seriously attracted to his superior, but he can’t do anything about it, because Scott is straight. Or is he?
Love Notes, was one of my first books and tells the story of Erika Fenn, a world famous singer-songwriter returning to England for the first time in five years. She’d run away to America to escape a disastrous relationship, pouring her broken heart and soul into her music, and creating songs that turned her into a global superstar. The last person she needs to see upon her return is Aiden Thirstan, the man who’d broken her heart in the first place, and who’s now saying her future’s under threat too. Can she trust him to help her and, more importantly, can she trust herself not to fall in love with him all over again?
I wanted to release two books together so rewrote Lovers In Law alongside Love Notes and uploaded them both to Kindle on the 1st August. Then I played the waiting game. A couple of my Facebook friends read them in the first week and posted five star reviews and, after that, the word began to spread. More five star reviews appeared on Amazon, followed by several on Goodreads and lots of positive comments on Facebook. Readers didn’t just like my books, they loved them, and couldn’t write a review without using the word “steamy”. They even made it into the Top 100 of Goodreads’ Best Dirty Talk booklist. 
