I can’t tell you how excited I am to be in serious cahoots with Kay Jaybee! It’s been a long time coming! (Oooh! You see what I did there?) Kay and I have been dreaming and scheming for ages about doing a joint project. We’ve been urged by our readers and have even spent a couple of nights in hotel bars before readings scheming and plotting something new. BUT for both of us time is always a major issue, and when that scheming led us to the alternate plan of putting The Voyeur and The Pet Shop together in a two-volume box set, The Collared Collection, we figured it was a great start. It’s such a pleasure to see our names together on a box set that contains two of our very favourite, and possibly our kinkiest works.
The Collared Collection is up for pre-order now, so nab yours early and enjoy all the kink and all the sizzle that much faster. You won’t regret it. And it’s totally my pleasure to offer you a little teasing taste of Kay Jaybee’s fabulous novel, The Voyeur, to tempt you.
The Collared Collection is a two novel boxed set from the pens of multi-award winning erotica writers, Kay Jaybee and Kd Grace .
Blurb The Collared Collection Box Set:
In The Voyeur by Kay Jaybee, wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of 13 fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite BDSM club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff – his personal assistant, Anya Grant, and his housekeeper, Clara Hooper.
Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy, Fantasy 13, can take place. But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does Bridge’s gentleman’s club, Anya’s previous employer and a place she was delighted to escape from, have over Mark?
In order to find out, the girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they had left behind them all over again.
In The Pet Shop by KD Grace: In appreciation for a job well done, Stella James’s boss sends her a pet, a human pet. The mischievous Tino comes straight from The Pet Shop complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, it’s extremely addicting. Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that seperates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.
Extract from The Voyeur
His evening meal complete, Mark sat back, contentedly sipping his cup of strong black coffee. Pulling a
small, battered notebook from his pocket, he read thoughtfully for a moment. His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out. It was time for them to progress to the end of the list. Pressing the intercom button, Mark summoned his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room.
The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions.
‘I have decided that we will take a trip to Discreet this evening. We will turn our attention to the next fantasy on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes deliberately weighed up the reaction of his staff as he delivered his news.
Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of his time in his London flat, rather than in his mini-mansion in Oxfordshire, where his software business was based. It was only at Discreet, the most exclusive of the city’s BDSM clubs, that his increasingly imaginative fantasies could be publically appreciated; most of which involved the observation of other people’s erotic aspirations. Mark Parker was the ultimate voyeur.
Trying hard not to exchange glances with her colleague, Anya could sense the stiffening of Clara’s body as they listened to their boss. She knew that Clara’s mind, like her own, would already be racing; madly trying to guess what Mark’s latest erotic scenario would involve. Having survived fantasies one to eleven, they already understood the nature of the challenges they were likely to experience during the evening that loomed ominously ahead.
‘Anya, you will be less delighted than Clara, perhaps, when I tell you that this trip is intended as a lesson for you; possibly a punishment.’
Forgetting herself for a second, the PA lifted her head and stared Mark squarely in the face.
His lips smiled; his eyes, however, did not. ‘You wonder why? Why, when you are forever questioning my instructions?’
‘But Mark, I …’ Anya stopped talking, aware that by asking why she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her white shirt, as her employer continued to stare at her.
‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was velvety soft, yet the potential danger of disagreeing with him shone in his eyes. ‘But I know that you constantly query my actions by your reaction to them. Subconscious or not, it has to stop.’
Anya couldn’t believe it; she had always been so dutiful. The perfect assistant. The willing slave. How could Mark know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than “ordinary” existence?
Clara was hovering uncomfortably next to Anya as Mark came closer. ‘Tonight,’ he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, ‘you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task from our list, girls?’
They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten his questions were rhetorical.
Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write “Fantasy 1”, “Fantasy 2” and so on, all the way down – the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words “Fantasy 13”. The first 11 rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.
‘Only two more tasks to go.’
This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other, exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.
Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.
Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be both more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it. They also longed for it. Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs closer and closer to his own. Making them as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied Mark on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.
A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. ‘You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.’ Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.
As she considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, Anya privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 might not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than she’d survived before. She could handle this. They both could – no problem.
Then Anya saw her outfit.
Her bed supported nothing but a leather dog collar…
Buy The Collared Collection Here:
http://mybook.to/
About Kay Jaybee:
Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO
Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee wrote The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite 2011-14), The New Room, (Xcite, 2015), The Voyeur, (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress, 2013.
Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk
You can follow Kay here:
Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee
Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor
Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee
Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html
Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane – www.jennykane.co.uk
Blurb:
The Heat in Spain
It’s my love of this area that brought my decision to set Heat of the Day here. My threesome aren’t rich by any means and certainly wouldn’t have the funds to hit Nikki Beach. They are bar workers who have fallen into a wonderful summer of threesome love, until that is, they are forced apart. But you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder and when they reunite, phew, the heat of Costa Del Sol is nothing compared to the heat these three feel for each other.
Back Cover Information for Heat of the Day
The song was about happy times. Lovers who’d smiled then left. How goodbye was the hardest word.
come in a minute or two like this but he hadn’t yet decided whether to or not. Maybe he’d just get her desperate for it with a fast oral session then toss her onto the bed and feel her come around his cock. God, he loved that, when she was hot and wet, gripping him, spasming around him.
As a writer of erotic romance, I’m always trying to analyze the ways in which sex strengthens story. I’ve
for a split second, it wasn’t lust I felt. It was Michael’s agony at my death he was helpless to prevent. It was his anguish at me shutting him out, it was all the pent-up feelings of more lifetimes than I could imagine down through the ages when I only existed in his horrific knowledge of eternity in an instant, the agony of endless ages of waiting only to be denied. Alonso had warned me that there was so much more in the blood than just nourishment and lust, that the knowledge of the whole of a person’s existence was contained in the blood, and even beyond, the history of their people. He told me that a vampire could access such information in that first ravenous sip, but I’d never had the presence of mind to do so before, though I’d quite possibly taken only from people who knew how to shield their own inner workings. Alonso hadn’t yet taught me how to preserve the privacy of the person upon whom I fed, and Michael was suddenly wide open, laid completely bare to me in a rush of information that was heart breaking and terrifying and amazing all at once. There were glimpses of his relationship with the Guardian, there were flashes of him with Magda, there were images that made no sense in a context of anything that had ever been mortal. And then just a suddenly as it flooded my consciousness, it was gone. It was as though a heavy curtain had descended, and what remained was the pleasure of nourishment and lust twinned with the bond that I suddenly realized had not been broken by my death after all.
well.” I pulled him back to me and felt the tight delicious, almost painful pull of his lips and nip of his teeth, and it was as though he did the same between my legs. I felt it down there as surely as if his face were pressed between my thighs, as surely as if he fed upon my most intimate self. Careful not to pull away just yet, I lifted my bottom and fumbled open the tight strain of his fly, feeling the hiss of his breath against my breast as I freed him, slid aside the crotch of my panties and guided him home with a deep groan the was a combine effort. And he truly was home as I rode him and he rose up to meet me, kneading and cupping my breasts while he suckled. How could I ever not have realized that he was my heart and my only home?
powerful he was, just how much control he had exerted in our lovemaking before I became a vampire just to keep from hurting me, or even killing me. As though that blood connection had somehow made him aware of my thoughts, he bent and nipped my own wound licking it hard enough to make me squirm with transferred pleasure while he never lost the rhythm, the subtle increase of speed as we drew near our release. “You can’t hurt me, Susan, I promise. At least not physically.”
“Oh good! You haven’t killed him,” she said with a sunny smile. “I brought food.” She sat a large covered tray on the one sailors trunk that hadn’t been turned over with the bed and gave the room, and then us, a knowing once over. “Alonso figured you’d need it, Michael, if your little scribe hadn’t drained you completely dry. And he asks that I remind you not to linger too much longer before you head for the basement. Dawn will be coming soon.” Then she left, chuckling under her breath.
“I had no reason to tell you,” he said. “I’ve kept my strength from everyone except Magda. I had to in order to interact safely with humans. You’re all so fragile. Well you were,” he added, then he bit the side of my neck playfully. “Nice to be able to play rough, and even nicer not to have to wait for you to recover.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Come on, let’s get down to the basement and then we’ll pick up where we left off.” He gave his still erect penis a stroke with the other fist to demonstrate.
of the fells in summer. We need some air.”