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Kinky Boots: Sexy Possession Coming Soon!

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Of course I had to set my petite novel, Kinky Boots, in Shoreditch! Where else in London could possibly have that sexy, slightly mystical, more than a little raunchy, have-a-good-time feel to it? Yes, I know I might be a little bit prejudiced. I have so many fond memories of Shoreditch because Sh! Women’s Store is there, and that’s my favourite place for launch parties and celebrating all things sexy.

I had the basic storyline in my head for Kinky Boots long before I put the first word down. I knew all about Jill Hart and her sexy new boots that came with something extra. I knew all about Finn Masters, the owner of Demon Heels, the quirky all-night shoe store where Jill buys her kinky boots. And I knew all about Eleanor, the lust demon who moves right in and makes herself at home — in Jill, that is. What I couldn’t quite decide was where to set Kinky Boots.  Raymond and I were in London for the weekend. Friday night at Sh! there had been readings from Best Women’s Erotica 2012, and we were staying on for the launch of Kay Jaybee’s great BDSM novel, The Perfect Submissive the next night. On  Saturday afternoon after a delish kabab at a local shop, Kay, Raymond and I decided to go for a walk in the July sunshine. And I was hooked! In front of Shoreditch City Hall, a lesbian wedding party were posing for pictures, the place was buzzing with shoppers, and I found not one but three quirky shoe shops on Shoreditch High Street, any one of which would perfectly suit my story.

In daylight, I was totally taken in by the wild blend of ultra modern glass and steel right up in the personal space of Victorian brick and stone,Kinky_Boots snuggled in close to streets that looked as though they came straight from a Sherlock Holmes novel. All of that was mixed up with industrial ruins and modern make-overs that made for an architectural orgy perfectly suited for my story. Kay, who had studied industrial archeology, gave me the low-down on what I was actually looking at.  I’d already done enough launch parties in Shoreditch to know that the streets on Friday and Saturday night are alive with people who won’t settle for less than a great time, and that was all it took. Voila! Kinky Boots was set in Shoreditch, starting with a botched girls night out at the Bluu Bar across from Sh!, a night out that ends with sex in an all-night shoe store, hot new boots, and posession by sexiest lust demon ever.

On the 24th of January, Kinky Boots, published by Mischief Books, will be officially available for possession! I’m very excited to share just a little peek of the wickedly naughty fun to come. There’ll be a blog tour and more updates as they happen. In the meantime, here’s just a sneak preview of what happens when mild-mannered Jill Hart meets lust demon extraordinare, Eleanore.

Blurb:

After a sizzling encounter in DEMON HEELS, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS, JILL HART walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.

Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.

With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?

Excerpt:

Jill returned to her flat feeling pretty chuffed with the events of the evening. Nice place, Kinky Boots. Really nice. And the bloke who ran it – hotter than hot. There was something else about him, something strangely familiar, almost like if they sat down together over a cuppa they’d discover that they’d always known each other. She smiled to herself at the thought. She really couldn’t imagine them getting through a whole cuppa together without her ripping his jeans off and shagging him senseless. Even with his clothes on, it hadn’t been hard to tell that he was very nicely equipped for the task. She looked down at her lovely new boots, boots she’d left without paying for. It was the perfect excuse for going back.

* * *

shoreditch2Under the circumstances, she figured she’d be too hyped to sleep, but she did so almost instantly.

And before long the room was awash in mist that floated and swirled around her bed. Had the weather turned while she was sleeping, bringing the fog? Had she forgotten to shut her window? A sudden gust of cool wind cleared the mist just enough for Jill to catch the first glimpse of the woman at the foot of her bed, pale and translucent, lit with way more silver light than even the full moon could provide.

Strange, as she approached the bed, the curvy, feminine shape of her was clear, as though her thin clingy robe were made from the mist itself, but the woman’s face remained out of focus, as though Jill were viewing her from underwater.

She sat down on the bed next to her, and still Jill couldn’t make out the details of her face. But her voice was rich and silky, and Jill had the urge to wrap herself in the caress of it. ‘I’ve waited a long time for you, Jill Hart. Finn is such a spoilsport, not letting me play. But you’re different. He likes you, and he’ll warm to the idea of the two of us. You’ll see.’ She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. ‘Now then, sweetie, let’s have a look. Let’s see our lovely new body.’ As she reached out to smooth Jill’s hair away from her face, Jill was suddenly unable to move.

It was a dream then, surely a dream, Jill thought; one of those where someone important is at the door, but you’re paralysed, lying there in the bed, and, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t move.

The woman leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, and her breath was winter-cold but sweet and hypnotic with its icy in and out, in and out.

With a flick of her wrist she threw back the duvet and sighed her delight. Jill was surprised to find herself naked. ‘Oh, my darling, how I’ve Shoreditch town halllonged to bear the weight of breasts again, to feel the hardening and puckering of their arousal.’ She brushed cold fingertips across Jill’s nipples and they rose to a touch that was irresistible. Jill would have arched up against the cool feathery caress if she’d been able. Instead she lay unmoving, her chest rising and falling faster and faster, her nipples pearled to hard beads begging for the woman’s attention.

The woman continued her explorations. ‘Oh, the delight of belly and hips, and, ah, yes, such softness down there.’ She trailed her fingers down Jill’s tummy and cupped her mons, caressed and fondled her tight curls, and the sound that escaped Jill’s lips was a kittenish mew.

The woman smiled knowingly. ‘The pleasures of the flesh, my lovely, how we shall share them, how we shall revel in them, you and I. It’ll be so delicious for both of us, I promise you.’ Then, with the flat of her hand, she opened Jill’s legs.

Jill was helpless to deny her access, even if she’d wanted to, and she didn’t. It was only a dream, she told herself, and sexy dreams should come as no surprise after her encounter at Kinky Boots. And anyway, it had to be a dream because she was too shy even to undress in front of Vivie, and here she lay practically willing this woman to check out all that she had … down there.

‘Let us see, my darling,’ the woman cooed. ‘Let us see you.’ Jill watched helplessly as the woman forced her knees up and wide until Jill felt herself exposed, butter-cream slick and heavy.

Shoreditch 1images‘Yes, my love. That’s it. Let me see what we shall have such delight in sharing. Oh, yes, lovely. So lovely.’ With one hand still resting in Jill’s pubic curls the woman lowered her face for a closer look. Then with a scoop and a twist she trailed fingers up between Jill’s cleft and brought them to her lips as though she were tasting her favourite dish. ‘Mmm,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Finn’s going to love you.’ She lowered a tongue-flick of a kiss onto Jill’s hard clit, and Jill came. The electrifying power of her orgasm raged through her paralysed body to every nerve ending, every blood cell, every synapse, raging out in all directions, then returning in a hot rush of energy to the hardened node of her clit before settling deep inside her. She could neither writhe nor buck. All she could do was moan and quiver.

‘Oh, yes, my darling, you are delightful, the way your lovely pussy muscles tighten and convulse when you come. How wonderful it will be to have a body with such libido, such hunger. Oh, how Finn will ride you. I think that –’

The woman was interrupted by the call of a man. ‘Eleanor? Eleanor, are you there?’

She put a finger to her lips. ‘He’ll find out eventually, dear Jill, but when he does it’ll no longer matter.’ She brushed a kiss across Jill’s lips, and for the first time Jill got a clear view of the woman’s face. She recognised it well because it was her face. Before she could dwell on the strangeness of such a revelation, the woman lay down in her arms, nuzzled in tight against Jill’s breasts and pulled the duvet up over both of them. From a distance Jill could still hear the man calling for Eleanor, but that was the last thing she remembered until morning.

Buy Links:

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

 

 

 

 

Who’s Really to Blame for Seven Deadly Sins

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Okay, so here it is; the real story behind the story. Here’s the truth about what happened  when dirty minds ran amuck late at night after Eroticon 2012 in the Ibis Hotel in Bristol. I swear it’s the truth because I was right there running amuck with the best.

I can’t say we’d had too much to drink. We hadn’t. I can’t say there were any drugs involved, unless you want to count the cold tablets I was popping for the springtime sniffles I had. What I can say is that we were high on smut writing. We’d just spent the day at the first annual Eroticon in Bristol. That was last March. We’d had dinner with some of our naughty compadres, and then Lily Harlem, Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse and I went back to our hotel, which had a lovely all-night bar. Since we live in opposite directions in the UK, we seldom get the chance to catch up and talk writing, so we were up for the long haul.

Seven-Deadly-Sins-Cover-450(1)Lily Harlem started it. Yes, she’s the one to blame! After some raucous conversation about what we found sexy and what we liked to write about, she pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and we began brainstorming ideas for smutty anthologies. We considered sex at work for an anthology; we considered sex alfresco for an anthology, we might have even considered food sex. Oh, the possibilities! And then Lily did it! Lily brought up the idea of an anthology about the seven deadly sins, the perfect way to cover all the naughty bases in one filthy swoop.

My hand was the first in the air to write a story about lust. Bet that surprises you, doesn’t itJ Victoria wasn’t far behind me, volunteering for gluttony. Lily was all up for envy and Lucy put in for pride. And so the night went. I’m not sure how serious we all were at the time. It was long after midnight, and to say we were punchy is an understatement. When a party of rather inebriated lads flooded into the bar singing Iris folk songs loudly and badly, we adjourned to Victoria and Lucy’s room and continued planning and scheming.

The next day we all hopped our trains and went back home. My sneaking suspicions is that it was Lucy Felthouse who is to blame for what happened next, though I’m sure that Lily was partly responsible for filling in the three remaining sins with naughty writers, Sarah Masters took up the cause to wax filthy about wrath, Lexie Bay weighed in with sloth and Rebecca Bond took on greed.

And, after that the blame all goes to KoJo Black over at Sweetmeats Press who bravely agreed to take on the brainchild four under-slept smutters had mapped out on a scrap of paper in a hotel bar. Thanks KoJo! Nine months later, Voila! A very naughty, anthology is now available for your reading and viewing pleasure, with illustrations by John LaChatte in the paperback version and in the Waterstones eBook version. Thought the eBook is available in all the usual places, do remember, if you want the naughty illustrations in your eBook version, you have to get it from Waterstones.

I confess, this anthology is truly sinful X seven, and I do hope that this little peek into the naughty origins of The Seven Deadly Sins will lead you into temptation to get your copy, and then let the filthy authors and that dirty boy of an illustrater, John LaChatte do the rest. I forgot to mention you can also buy each of the seven stories separately in eBook format if you have a favourite vice.

Seven erotic tales from seven sinful sirens. The Seven Deadly Sins have never been so sexy!

Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action by K. D. Grace
A young voyeur finds himself faced with the almighty task of going global with Lust!

Caged by Rebecca Bond
Greed pushes a policewoman straight to the top. But her quest for power uncovers more desire than she ever knew she had!

Glutton to Gourmet by Victoria Blisse
Anabel has never known when to say ‘when’. But the dashing Roman shows her that quality is just as delicious as quantity.

Green Eyed Monster by Lily Harlem
Penis Envy takes on a whole new meaning when Helen hatches a plan to use her own “cock” to its fullest extent!

An Indolent Seduction by Lexie Bay
When the demon of Sloth sets his sights on the angel Industria, apathy becomes dangerously alluring.

The Sweetest Revenge by Lucy Felthouse

Abigail’s crush on Mackenzie has made her do something stupid. Will Pride come before a fall…or cause them to fall in love?

Something Else by Sarah Masters
A man’s Wrath at the loss of his lover sets him on a vengeful path that leads him through a seedy and sexually charged underworld.

sevendeadlysins_large_promo

Blurb for Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action:

There’s no place to go but down when, against all odds, sexually inexperienced, nerd’s nerd, JACK CALENDAR gets shanghaied into being APHRODITE’s PA. And she has him going down a lot! Who could have guessed that the moonlighting Goddess of Love had head for business? The hours are long, the work is difficult and the Goddess is demanding and insatiable. Then there’s her family, who make the Corleones look like the Brady Bunch.

A PA’s work is never done, and Jack wasn’t hired for his impressive organizational skills. Nerdy Jack is at Aphrodite’s beck-and-call, because he’s the only mortal she has ever known with a lust powerful enough to match her own. Jack’s never had so much sex. He didn’t even know one could have so much sex – with someone other than themselves, that is. Just when he’s starting to get the hang of serving the goddess, Jack meets the husband, whose jealous temper is volcanic to say the least. Can Jack survive a run-in with the original dysfunctional family, or will he end up just one more manipulated mortal fucked by the gods?

Excerpt from Aprodite Gets a Piece of the Action

‘Hey you! Ass-wipe! Don’t make me come up after you.’

Coming up wasn’t necessary. Startled, Jack lost his balance on the limb and fell out of the tree backward, his fall being slowed by the hard thwack, thwack, thwack of a half a dozen smaller, more supple branches before he hit the manicured lawn flat on his back leaving him winded and stunned.

‘Izzee dead?’ A voice hissed from somewhere above Jack’s prone, breathless body.

‘Course ‘es not dead. His cock’s still hard. Sonovabitch! Hat’s off to ‘im, I say.’

‘Don’t matter. When her dad gets through with him, he’ll wish he was dead.’

‘Shut up, you two. No one asked your opinion,’ a third voice said. Then the owner of that voice grabbed Jack by the arm and hauled him to his feet nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He found himself nose to nose to a man with perfectly coifed hair that looked like it came straight from an eighties cop show. And the rest of him looked like a poster boy for a hard core muscle mag, right down to the bad-ass eagle tat rippling up his bulging right bicep. If that wasn’t crazy enough, the man was wearing a toga, for chrissake! His pecs bulged and his nipples looked like they’d been clamped within an inch of their lives. And who the hell noticed a man’s nipples, Jack wondered, especially when Blondie’s old man was about to make him wish he were dead.

‘Tuck it in, Bub,’ Toga Man nodded to Jack’s cock which, embarrassingly enough, still offered a full frontal salute. He shoved and shifted it back into his track suit, but even then it led the way as he fell into step behind Toga Man with two black-suit security types flanking him. What the hell was the matter with him? He could die or worse and he still had enough wood to start a bonfire.

‘Big Z ain’t gonna be happy you watching his daughter do the dirty,’ the suit to his left spoke out of one side of his mouth.

‘You shut your pie-hole,’ Toga Man said. ‘You dunno what makes Big Z happy. Besides, she ain’t his daughter.’

Big Z? What the hell was this, Jack wondered, some kind of Mafioso toga party? They made their way through the enormous marble foyer of the house Jack hadn’t noticed being anywhere nearly so huge from his perch in the oak tree. But then it wasn’t the house he’d been looking at, was it? At last, Toga Man dismissed the Mafia-thugs and fast marched Jack, both hands protectively folded across the bounce, bounce, bounce of his erection, to another set of double doors at the end of a long hallway. He threw them open and with a hand on Jack’s shoulder, half shoved him into an opulent study. There, Jack found himself face to face with the bare ass of a bloke doing the nasty up the bumhole of another, a situation that didn’t prevent Toga Man from announcing loudly. ‘We found this scumbag up the oak tree watching Aphrodite.’

Buy Seven Deadly Sins Now

Print:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

eBook:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Waterstones

 

Katie Salidas & Willsin Rowe Share the Story Behind their Consummate Therapy Series

I’m very excited to welcome Katie Salidas and Willsin Rowe  on their virgin visit to a Hopeful Romantic to share with us the story behind their very intriguing Consummate Therapy Series.

Willsin: Let’s see…billionaire? Check! BDSM? Check! Just like seven thousand other titles out there? Well, let’s just wait a minute, shall we?

Those elements are probably the main ones people will notice if they happen across the books in the Consummate Therapy series. We have a billionaire, we’re employing BDSM, and it’s a romantic and erotic experience. Where we veer away from the current trend is by making our billionaire female. And making her the submissive.

Katie: Willsin, dear, we should probably add the caveat, we try to make her submissive. Natasha isn’t one to just submit easily. Where would the fun be in that? I mean, face it. If she was a billionaire just deciding to submit then we would be falling into another stereotype. Where Natasha really differs is that she is so resistant to the idea. “I have underlings for that,” she says. She feels that everyone is beneath her. Though she’s a tough egg to crack, she really and truly needs to be broken. And that’s exactly why Dr. Benson prescribes her “Radical Therapy.”

Willsin: Absolutely right, Katie. Without drama, a story is really just a bunch of words about people breathing. It’s Natasha’s resistance, and indeed her volatility, that makes her such a vital character. She’s a woman who readers will probably take a little while to warm up to. It may even take until the second book.

So anyway, we’ve bucked the trend to a certain degree, which probably doesn’t make great commercial sense. But what we’re doing here is to tell a believable story that has an element of gritty reality without shying away from the romantic elements.

Katie: And I think that extra “grit” as you say, is what makes the romantic elements  that much more believable. There is no sugar coating the relationship between Natasha and the Master. She’s given hard lessons to learn and only in that learning, and doing what Master demands of her can she hope to overcome her own issues and maybe even find real love, if there is such a thing?

Willsin: Well, we’ll have to wait until book 3 to find out, won’t we? (Is this the time for a judicious “muahahahaaaa”?) Another motivating factor for this series was as a response to the misapprehensions some people seem to have formed about the BDSM lifestyle. It’s not, as some may think, a viable outlet for cruelty or cold sadism. It’s not a place for disrespect, and it’s certainly not something to be tackled in earnest without a great deal of trust.

Katie: I have to chime in here yet again. Willsin is so right! The lifestyle is so misunderstood by the general populace. I’m not in that lifestyle, but in researching for our book, I learned how wrong I was about what really happens. It’s not just about spanking, or public humiliation. The root of it is trust. The master may test the limits of their sub, but in a safe, sane and consensual way, with the ultimate goal being mutual gratification. And that was what we wanted to do with Natasha. She needed her limits to be tested but the “Therapy” would only work if she could let her guard down and trust in the Master to not push her beyond her boundaries. It is a delicate line they walk, with the end result being a healthier outlook and a deeper understanding of each other.

Willsin: Sing it, sister. We were adamant about including those elements, and the beauty was that we each came to this story independently with those factors in mind: trust, respect and understanding. Wherever we have physical punishments, we have object lessons attached to them. This is no game for either Natasha or the Master. This is serious therapy and He is as determined for her to succeed as she is. That being said, though, it certainly does end up being a lot of fun.

Katie: And let me tell you, writing this series was totally fun! Willsin and I work very well together. We both saw the same vision and the story took shape before our very eyes!

Blurb Submission Therapy:

Billionaire CEO of Blakely Incorporated, Natasha runs her empire with an eagle eye for every detail. She’s an obsessive, compulsive, micromanaging hard-ass, consumed by the need to control every aspect of her life and her business.

But underneath that seemingly strong façade, Natasha is a swirling mess of anger, anxiety and sexual addiction. Only her therapist, Dr. Benson, knows how close she is to burning out…or exploding. He insists on a radical form of treatment – Submission Therapy – knowing that it’s her only hope.

Skeptical but intrigued, Natasha agrees to attend the first session. What she finds there is an erotically-charged environment that will forgive none of her habitual bad behavior. And a steely-eyed man who seems to read her every desire – even the ones she won’t admit to herself.

Will Natasha learn what it means to submit? Or will she allow her brittle pride to rob her of what she truly needs?

Excerpt Submission Therapy:

Master Sweet rested his hand back in my hair. “Natasha, it’s time to begin.”

He fisted that hand again, reigniting the heat in my scalp, while his other swept down my calf and stopped at my red-black two-toned peek-a-boo toe Louboutin pumps.

“What size do you wear, Natasha?” He drew the shoes off one at a time.

“Six.”

“Yet you have size eight feet.”

“Guys exaggerate their dicks, girls shrink their feet.”

He turned his already-tight fist, pulling a sharp breath into my lungs. “That kind of language is a privilege. One you’ve not earned.”

I couldn’t speak through the tension in my body, and I couldn’t nod without risking searing pain. Thankfully Master Sweet eased his grip just enough to allow my voice back.

“Yes.”

“You will address me as Master Sweet, or simply Master.”

“Yes, simply Master.” I tensed up, ready for him to squeeze again. Instead he shocked me by pushing forward, overbalancing me until I was on hands and knees, my cheek buried in the carpet. His pelvis nudged up against my ass, and he was definitely packing something hard in there.

He took a long, deep breath in. “I do so enjoy these early stages.”

“Yes, Master,” said the toadying redhead.

He brought his free hand back down to my feet. He appeared to still be addressing his off-sider. “Look at the deep lines her shoes have carved. The rich redness of constriction.”

“Yes, Master.”

His breath seemed to falter for a moment. “It will be exquisite to see this all over her body.”

All over my body? What exactly was that supposed to mean? I should have known better. Never agree to a deal without the terms being spelled out in a contract. Business 101. “Listen, Mister Sweets. Unconventional sex therapy is one thing, but no one is putting any kind of marks on my body. Are we clear?” I threw his condescending words back at him.

“Do you understand what it means to submit?”

His callous tone caught me off guard, but I quickly recovered.

“I have underlings for that.”

“So you see submission as a form of weakness.”

“Absolutely. I bow to no one.”

“You do now. “ The finality of his words was chilling.

Need more therapy?

Occupational Therapy blurb:

Natasha’s experience at the hands of Master Sweet has left her both drained and enlightened. Wanting nothing more than to curl up against him for as long as she can, she is dismayed when he sends her home to dwell on all she’s learned.

But being a creature of habit, Natasha’s stubborn and rebellious nature leads her back into her old patterns, threatening to undo all her progress. When her symptoms return in full force, she begins to doubt not only the effectiveness of Submission Therapy, but also the motivations of her Master.

Learning of her disobedience, Master Sweet brings forward Natasha’s next session. But recognizing her behavior for what it is – a cry for attention – leads Him to change His approach dramatically. If Natasha thought her first lesson was hard…she’s in for a real eye-opener.

Does the embattled billionaire have the internal strength to earn back her Master’s trust? And how will she handle it when his intentions suddenly become even more serious?

Buy Submission Therapy here:

http://www.amazon.com/Submission-Therapy-Consummate-ebook/dp/B00A020MQK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Submission-Therapy-Consummate-ebook/dp/B00A020MQK

Buy Occupational Therapy here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occupational-Therapy-Consummate-ebook/dp/B00A8865LW

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Occupational-Therapy-Consummate-ebook/dp/B00A8865LW

About Katie Salidas:

Katie Salidas is a Super Woman! Endowed with special powers and abilities, beyond those of mortal women, She can get the munchkins off to gymnastics, cheerleading, Girl Scouts, and swim lessons.  She can put hot food on the table for dinner while assisting with homework, baths, and bedtime… And, She still finds the time to keep the hubby happy (nudge nudge wink wink). She can do all of this and still have time to write.

And if you can believe all of those lies, there is some beautiful swamp land in Florida for sale…

Katie Salidas resides in Las Vegas, Nevada. Mother, wife, and author, she does try to do it all, often causing sleep deprivation and many nights passed out at the computer. Writing books is her passion, and she hopes that her passion will bring you hours of entertainment.

Blog
http://www.katiesalidas.com/

Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Katie-Salidas-Author/214780936916

LinkedIn
http://www.linkedin.com/profile?viewProfile=&key=58814031&trk=tab_pro

Twitter
http://twitter.com/QuixoticKatie

About Willsin Rowe:

Willsin Rowe falls in love with a scent, a playful expression or an act of casual intimacy more easily than with physical beauty. When confronted by any combination of those elements he is a lost cause. He has done many things over and over, done even more things only once, and half-done more things than he cares to admit. He loves to sing and doesn’t let his voice get in the way. He is intelligent but not sensible. He is passionate but fearful. He is not scruffy enough or stylish enough to be cool.

Blog:

http://willsinrowe.blogspot.co.uk/

                                             

 

 

 

Making Him Wait- Kay Jaybee’s Tale of Denial, Discipline & Reward

Kay Jaybee has been very busy this last year, and readers who like a hot tale of BDSM are now benefitting from all of her hard work. It’s a pleasure to welcome her back with the story behind her hot tale of delayed gratification, Making Him Wait. Welcome, Kay Jaybee!

A huge thanks to KD for inviting me to stop by today to chat about the birth of my brand new novel!

Making Him Wait (published by Sweetmeats Press) is my third full length novel. As with my previous books (The Perfect Submissive and The Voyeur), Making Him Wait contains plenty of high kink and elements of BDSM, but unlike my previous tales, this story, rather than centring around submissive survival and erotic challenges, is based around the concept of self-control.

Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she’s happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas.

But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge. Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. But, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out!

At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted. Will Maddie’s models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time?

The only way to find out is to wait and see…and the waiting only makes it sweeter!

The elements of self control have always fascinated me. I wanted to write a story that encapsulated and revolved around that trait when entwined with sexual denial, but it took me a long time to come up with a believable scenario in which someone would be willing to ignore or suppress the physical satisfaction they craved from a particular person.

The answer came to be when watching a very good friend of mine (the wonderful Mayo- who’s art you can find in my website gallery), painting a picture. She was 100% absorbed in what she was doing, noticing neither lunch time, nor the ring of the phone or front doorbell. I began to wonder how someone who (unlike Mayo!) likes to play power games, and who is suddenly confronted with the best artistic challenge of her life (her very first gallery exhibition), and a promising romantic partner at the same time, would cope. Who would get her attention- the man or the art?

My leading lady in Making Him Wait is the artist Maddie Templeton, and her hopeful admirer is Theo Hunter, an electrician who, after a visit to her studio to fix new lights, becomes fascinated by her apparent indifference to the extreme images of eroticism which constantly surround her.

As a writer my challenge then became- if Maddie decides she wants the best of both worlds, – how do I find a way for Maddie to keep Theo interested while all her energy is centred on her art? The answer? Texts!

Ever since the introduction of mobiles (or cell phones) into our lives, texting has become a way of life. Erotic stories involving text sex were bound to follow in the wake of this phenomenon as, let’s face it; text sex can be very arousing.

I have written a number of stories that have included texts, such as Perks of the Job (Tricks For Kicks, Xcite) and Not Her Type (OCPress). It was so much fun to add this dimension of communication to my tales, that it seemed obvious to make texted conversations an integral part of my new novel, Making Him Wait.

Here’s a little snippet from Chapter One to whet the appetite!

Theo: Tell me where u are

Theo: Tell me what u are wearing

Theo: I bet ur fucking someone

Theo: Who is it? Who are u fucking?

Theo: I can see u in my mind – ur hair is in a ponytail isn’t it?

Maddie had deliberately turned her phone to silent as she’d pushed her overfull supermarket trolley around the packed store. Sitting in her car now, she couldn’t help but smile as she read the five messages while running a hand along her ponytail. She knew Theo couldn’t actually see her. He’d be fixing up new lighting in someone’s house somewhere. But her favourite electrician didn’t seem to have the ability to consider her other than in a sexual situation.

“I do have to eat like everyone else, Theo!” Maddie spoke to herself and the steering wheel before tucking the phone away without answering his list of texts and heading back to her home-based studio to get ready for work.

An hour later, dressed in the attire she’d been requested to wear by that day’s model – a black pleated mini-skirt, a long baggy shirt and absolutely nothing else – Maddie sat at her cluttered desk to read the handwritten notes she’d made after Sara’s last session.

Issues involving going commando

Has a partner (Jake) who wishes her to live out erotic fantasy scenarios for him

She wants to oblige, but lacks the nerve

Sara’s compromise is to have a picture of herself going commando – she hopes it will give her confidence

Almost there – just need her to be brave enough to uncover her pussy for me to draw

Working with Sara had been slow progress at first. Now, three sessions in, at least she was happy to walk to the studio in trousers or leggings without wearing underwear. Maddie wondered if Sara would hold her nerve today and wear her partner’s favourite skirt with nothing beneath, as they’d arranged during their last meeting.

Relaxing back in her chair while she waited for Sara’s knock at the door, Maddie picked up her mobile and sent Theo the reply she had no doubt he would be waiting for.

Maddie: I’m waiting for a client. She is beautiful. U would love her.

His response came almost instantly and Maddie grinned as she imagined his workman’s hands diving towards his phone as her message reached him.

Theo: What’s her name?

Maddie: Now now honey – client confidentiality…

Theo: Spoil sport

Maddie: Ur dick hard for me?

Theo: Yes

Maddie: Good boy. U out on the road?

Theo: Yes

Maddie checked the time. Sara was never late. In fact it was rare for her not to be at least ten minutes early. That meant she had approximately five minutes before Sara’s arrival in which to play with Theo.

Maddie: I am going commando. I want u to do the same.

Theo: Fuck woman, I’m on my way to a customer!

Maddie: Park the van and take ur boxers off.

The pause before Theo’s reply confirmed for Maddie that he was doing exactly what she told him to. When his text did come through, it seemed almost as breathless as she guessed he was.

Theo: Done. Now what? Tell me!

Maddie: Sorry honey – got to get to work – think of me fingering my client’s pussy – then later u may masturbate.

Theo: What!? U can’t say that and then go!

Maddie: I can. No playing until I say so.

The moment she’d pressed the send button on her last text, Maddie threw her mobile carelessly onto the desk. She knew Theo would reply, but he’d have to wait. For now she had work to do. The double ring of the doorbell told her Sara had arrived.

As arranged, Sara had dressed just as Maddie had, including the similarly styled short, pleated skirt that she had declared to be Jake’s favourite. One glance at her backside however, told Maddie that her client’s underwear was still firmly in place.

Careful not to make Sara feel ill at ease, Maddie said nothing about her model’s overdressing and gestured towards the stairs. “Come through, we’ll get you more comfortable.”

The nervous yet happy energy that was radiating from every pore of Sara’s skin was a familiar condition to Maddie. Nearly all her visitors had the same excited yet apprehensive aura about them. Only when that apprehension had been replaced entirely with excitement, did Maddie consider them ready to be properly painted. Otherwise there was no way she could capture the essence of their sexuality on canvas.

Sara risked an anxious smile as she walked up the narrow stairway that separated Maddie’s living quarters from her office-cum-studio – a studio which held everything that might come in useful. There was a double bed, a battered yet comfortable sofa, and a multitude of different chairs, so her clients could choose where they wanted to be while they posed for a portrait. As well as the furniture, there were stacks of discarded empty frames and potential props, a battered metal trolley holding Maddie’s artistic supplies, as well as a kettle, toaster and small sink where she cleaned her brushes.

Next to the bed stood an old-fashioned chest of drawers. Unbeknown to many of her customers, its three drawers contained every instrument of domination and submission imaginable – from tubes of lube, condoms, countless packs of batteries, dildos, whips, paddles, vibes, ropes, blindfolds and gags. Thus, Maddie was always prepared for any request from her clientele.

Ignoring the flashing light on her muted mobile, telling her she did indeed have more messages from Theo, Maddie addressed her companion. “So, Sara, how have things been for you this week?”

“Okay, thanks. Jake is really pleased I’m for doing this for him.” The smile that wasn’t quite as shy as it had been in previous weeks became wider as it spread over Sara’s neat asiatic features.

“And so he should be. Hundreds of women say they’ll carry out their partner’s fantasies. Very few ever actually have the will or courage to go through with their promises. I have always thought that, if you make a promise, then you must do whatever it was you agreed to. Even if it takes some time to fulfil your oath.”

Sara knew Maddie was probably right, but she refrained from comment as Maddie placed the large canvas that held her work-in-progress onto the easel.

The artist let Sara nervously pace the room while she selected the handful of chalk pastels she’d need to finish the basic design of her work. With the background and outline of the picture already complete, Maddie could go no further until Sara was comfortable enough to show the feminine folds hidden under the black knickers she wore.

While Sara fiddled with the high wooden bar stool she would be leaning over once the session began, Maddie ran a critical eye over the canvas. She’d chosen pastels instead of oils or charcoal to best capture the mocha lustre to Sara’s skin. Some blocks of colour were already filled in – her subject’s jet-black hair shone from the page and the crisp white of her long t-shirt, rucked up at the waist, contrasted perfectly with the beauty and lustre of her flesh. The artist reached out a finger and ran it over her representation of Sara’s toned thighs and legs, and the varnished wood of the stool over which she was bent. All that remained was the gap in the middle of the canvas. A space that Maddie fully intended to sketch today.

It was a shame, Maddie thought as she nodded encouragingly to Sara, who was gesturing towards the CD player in the corner of the room, that she was drawing her client’s back view. Consequently, the girl’s exotically feline, emerald eyes, which suited her perfectly and yet somehow seemed startlingly at odds with her skin tone, would be missing from the finished scene.

Once Sara had chosen some light, almost ethereal, music to play softly in the background, Maddie took charge. “Would you like to remind yourself of what we’ve produced so far?”

Standing next to each other before the canvas, the blankness in the middle of the nearly-finished piece virtually screamed out loud. Tentatively, knowing the importance of keeping her model relaxed, Maddie reached out and took Sara’s hand in her own. “If this is going to be completed in time for Jake’s birthday, then I have to draw the rest of you today, honey.”

Sara tightened her grip on Maddie’s hand, the pulse in her wrist hammering against the artist’s. “I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about what I have to do since I was here last week.”

Gently taking Sara’s arm, Maddie manoeuvred her to stand directly in front of the stool. Taking a pace closer, so that her chest was pressed against Sara’s back, Maddie wrapped her arms protectively around the younger woman’s waist.

“It isn’t that scary, honey All you have to do is take off those panties and lean over this stool just the same way you did during the last three sessions. In only half an hour, I will have all I require to complete the picture, which I can do once you’ve gone. I can make it even quicker for you if you allow me to take a couple of photos.”

Sara said nothing for a moment, secretly relishing the heat of the curvaceous body behind her. “I know but, well…what if you don’t like what you see? What if I’m ugly down there?”

This was a fear that Maddie had heard many times before. She neither laughed, nor scoffed, nor judged. As an erotic artist, this was something she came up against a lot. Everyone seemed to be afraid that they might be abnormal or insufficient in some way, be they male or female.

“Honey, I have seen all sorts in this studio. Trust me. I am sure you are exquisite. Jake loves you down there doesn’t he?”

Sara blushed coyly as she remembered the countless times her man had worshipped her with his tongue from between her spread legs. “He certainly seems to.”

“There you go then.” Maddie took hold of Sara’s shoulders and firmly but gently turned her so that they were face to face. “I am happy to do what I suggested last week, if you think it would help.”

Sara dipped her eyes to Maddie’s skirt. She knew without asking that there would be no knickers under its short pleats.

The air of eroticism that was a permanent feature of Maddie’s studio took on a sharper tang, as if it was now something solid that could be grasped. Sara had been thinking about Maddie as much as she’d been thinking about the prospect of having to reveal her pussy, and she was afraid of giving herself away. She knew that if Maddie looked at her pussy, she would see how it glistened – wet with the hope that the artist’s slender fingers would touch her.

Realising Sara was lost in her own thoughts, and fairly confident those thoughts concerned sex with her, Maddie adopted a firmer tone. “You do want to get this done for Jake, don’t you? If you have changed your mind about going commando, then I have to know now so we can change things.”

Visibly pulling herself together, Sara took a deep breath. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. Jake will love it – I just have stage fright, that’s all.” She forced herself to raise her eyes to meet Maddie’s and, with her chest tightening, said, “And yes, if you are still up for it, then the plan we agreed last week would be good.”

“Excellent.” Maddie stood up straight and dropped her hands from Sara’s shoulders. “Well, as you can see, I am wearing similar clothes to your own, as discussed. I, however, have gone commando. You, I can see, have not. I understand that it isn’t exactly nice weather out there today, which is presumably why you didn’t walk here panty free?”

Both women knew that the fact it was unseasonably cold for a summer’s day was not the reason that Sara had failed to leave off her undergarments. But Sara was grateful for being given the opportunity to blame the dull drizzle for her last minute failing of nerve before she’d left home.

“Exactly. I didn’t want to catch a cold.”

Keeping up the pretence, Maddie picked up the high, pine barstool Sara was to lean over and put it exactly where it had been positioned during the other three sittings. “Well then, if you take off those undies and stand by the stool we’ll crack on?”

Sara’s hands shook as she edged down her knickers, trying not to notice that the fabric was rather damper than it should have been as she slid them to the floor.

Once the small scrap of black material was placed gingerly on the end of the bed, Sara walked to the stool and hovered uncertainly, wondering if Maddie really was going to do as she’d promised last week or if, now she’d gotten her model this far, she wouldn’t feel the need to keep her side of the bargain.

Maddie picked up her mobile. “Do excuse me for a second, Sara. I must answer these two messages before we start.”

Theo had been getting impatient…

Theo: What are u doing?

Theo: I have work too woman – and I can’t concentrate with this bloody hard on! For fucks sake Maddie – tell me what u are doing right now!

Maddie smiled as she typed.

Maddie: I’m about to calm a nervous client by showing her my pussy…

*****

Poor Theo is going to have to learn to be a very patient young man!

I hope you enjoyed that! Thanks again for letting me visit your wonderful site KD

If you would like to buy Making Him Wait, it is available as a paperback or e-book from Amazon UK, Amazon .com, Sweetmeats Press, and all good retailers.

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Making-Him-Wait-Kay-Jaybee/dp/190918117X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1351103726&sr=8-1&keywords=making+him+wait+kay+jaybee

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Making-Him-Wait-Kay-Jaybee/dp/190918117X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1351168468&sr=8-1

Sweetmeats Press: http://www.sweetmeatspress.com/illustrated_erotic_literature_contributors.html

Find Kay Jaybee and the latest on her novels, novellas and stories here:

http://kayjaybee.me.uk/

 

 

 

 

 

The Best Time!

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). 

****

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.

Amazon UK

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

 

 
© 2018 K D Grace
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