Tag Archives: Black Lace

Split by Kristina Lloyd (@kristina_lloyd)

thingsthatgohump300x200Three and a half of my five novels have happy endings. Spoiler alert: Split is not one of them. It’s not even the half.

Published in 2007, Split veers wildly off the trad romance track and instead borrows from the traditions of horror, incorporating the ghostly, the gothic, the eerie and the uncanny. There are no werewolves, vampires, monsters or zombies; no guts and gore or scares to make you scream. It’s quietly unsettling and oppressive. Or as one Amazon reviewer puts it, a “freaky little story with a ritualistic vibe.”

Wuthering Heights was one of the inspirations behind Split, and the action is set in an isolated village deep in the Yorkshire Moors. The people who live in Heddlestone, my imagined village, have different ways, different values. My protagonist, Kate Carter, abandons her boyfriend in London and moves to the village, unable to defy a inexplicable compulsion to return after briefly visiting on holiday.

split_kristina_lloyd“I longed for Heddlestone. I longed for its clean air, the space, the sight of those stark, blasted moors with their folds and secrets, and a sense of something lingering. I still feel it now I’m living here. I go out walking, climbing up and down, the wind roaring in my ears, and it feels as if something’s out there in the enormity, waiting for me.”

Kate takes a job in Heddlestone’s local puppet museum and soon falls for Jake, puppeteer and museum owner. Split is told from Kate’s POV, and written as a confessional journal she’s intending to send to the man she left behind, an attempt to explain her bizarre, hurtful actions. The book begins:

“My story starts last autumn. I want to set it down because I understand now that I’ll never be able to leave this place. And I want you to remember me as a good person.”

With its narrative format, Split shares similarities with my latest book, Undone, although the journal style is less overt here. There’s a twist in the tail too and plenty of kink, especially bondage and powerplay. Jake is a gentle, quiet, commanding dominant, and the sexual theme finds echoes in his profession. He creates puppets and marionettes, and he controls them, pulling their strings. Kate describes him as having “a sure, sensitive presence permeating my every day” and says,

“His hands are big enough to trap mine in a fist; light enough to sculpt, carve and paint, to shrink the living, breathing world down to a tiny focused stasis. His is such a delicate mastery.”

The trouble is, despite herself, Kate is also attracted to Jake’s brother, Eddie, a boorish, teasing bruiser and landlord of The Griffin, the village’s sole pub.

“There’s a cold intimacy to this place and the brothers have drawn me closer to its dark, disturbed heart, They had me from the start, Jake with his beauty and that clever, careful mind, Eddie with his arrogance that gets me right in the groin. Even now, I don’t know who I prefer.  I’m split between them, relishing both but trusting neither. Lust has taken me to some strange places but none stranger than this.”

If you’re someone who likes to cosy up with a book full of bad weather, creepy dealings and hot, kinky sex, you might enjoy Split. If escapist sunny beaches, sunny dispositions and happy ever afters are your thing, then I recommend you stay well away.

Happy Halloween, folks!

Split on Amazon UK :: Split on Amazon US

 

Kristina Lloyd writes erotic fiction about sexually submissive women who like it on the dark, dirty and dangerous side. Her novels are published by Black Lace and her short stories have appeared in dozens of anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collection, in both the UK and US. She lives in Brighton, England.

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Kristina Lloyd Talks about Erotica & Erotic Romance on Her UNDONE Blog Tour

Kristina Lloyd Undone Large

It’s my pleasure to welcome the totally amazing Kristina Lloyd, who has stopped by on her blog tour for her latest novel, Undone. Kristina has agreed to talk about the differences between erotica and erotic romance.

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The first erotic fiction story I had published began, “There was an ear in his chow mein.” That was around twenty years ago. My new novel, Undone, opens with a scream, and there’s a dead body on page six.

It’s fair to say traditional erotic romance has never been my forté. I prefer to lurk on the dark side where crimes, secrets, and seedy alleyways seep into the story. While romantic love may feature in my fiction, I’m more interested in exploring erotic obsession, conflicted sexualities, journeys of self-discovery, and the lengths to which people will go to have their desires met.

When I run writing workshops, I sometimes need to explain the difference between ‘erotica’ and ‘erotic romance’. I use broad brushstrokes and describe an over-arching category, ‘erotic fiction’, with two sub-sections. In erotic romance, the narrative is propelled by a central love story and will conclude happily with a romantic bonding, usually a monogamous pairing. In erotica, the narrative is propelled by a different journey, usually sexual; love may or may not be on the cards; and happy endings are not compulsory. Fifty Shades of Grey, I tell people, is erotic romance.

Of course, the distinctions aren’t always clear cut. Many authors, myself included, write in both sub-genres, and a degree of subjectivity is involved in deciding whether a book belongs in one camp or the other, or perhaps straddles the line between both. Additionally, how a book is marketed and positioned in bookstores affects how it is perceived. Of particular interest to me is the way many readers and writers will pledge allegiance to either erotica or erotic romance.

I don’t believe the two sub-genres are oppositional, and yet they’re often characterised as such. From the erotica corner, it’s easy to deride erotic romance as sentimental, softcore, heteronormative and reactionary; or, vice versa, for erotica to be dismissed as episodic, heartless bonking.

Neither stereotypes are true, but I feel erotica is currently the misunderstood weakling and comes off worse in terms of public perception.

Undeniably, some supporters of erotic romance define their territory by distancing it from erotica, from what it isn’t.

Totally Bound, ebook publishers of erotic romance, in their author pack, say, “What makes an Erotic Romance special is that it includes explicit sex, but also plenty of emotion and commitment. This is unlike Erotica, where the emotional commitment is absent”.

Excuse me?

My own editor, who I’m delighted to say has totally backed my hunger to write erotic thrillers, has been guilty of falling into a similar trap. According to a recent article, “Green was keen to stress that Black Lace titles are erotic romances rather than a string of sex scenes held together by a thin plot.”

In the post-FSOG climate, many have a vested interest in promoting erotic romance and securing it from accusations of grubbiness. Erotica then gets conflated with porn and is cited as an example of what erotic romance isn’t. As a consequence, it can feel as if there are two types of erotic fiction: ‘erotic romance’ and ‘shit books’. Because porn, irrespective of your take on it, does not make a compelling narrative. Erotica is not porn.

(As a slight aside, on her website, EL James describes FSOG as ‘provocative romance’ . I’ve seen the phrase crop up elsewhere but I’ve yet to find a definition. I don’t know if it’s an emerging sub-genre or part of the EL James brand. If you know more, please comment!)

Sylvia Day, in her neat breakdown of erotic fiction’s sub-genres, correctly observes that some publishers are now marketing ‘erotica’ as ‘erotic romance’, to cash in on the recent popularity of the genre. Sylvia’s concern is that readers keen to explore erotic romance will be deterred from further investigations if they find mis-labelled erotica in their hands.

My concern is that erotica can’t reach its readership. The signal is being scrambled. Erotic romance is blocking the view. Many wonderful erotic books exist that aren’t erotic romance. I’d love to see them getting the readers they deserve.

How does this relate to the ear in his chow mein? I’m not sure, except to say I have a book out this week, Undone. It’s an erotic, kinky, psychological thriller with a focus on the growth of a D/s relationship shrouded in suspicion and mistrust. The story’s romantic, to an extent, but features few of the themes and tropes of trad erotic romance. I’m delighted to have a publisher, Black Lace, who don’t put me under pressure to write what’s selling. I’m just hoping Undone will find its way to readers eager to try something a little different.

If you’d like to know more, please hop over to my blog for an excerpt from Undone, and check out the other stops on my Sexy September blog tour.

Kristina Lloyd writes erotic fiction about sexually submissive women who like it on the dark, dirty and dangerous side. Her novels are published by Black Lace and her short stories have appeared in dozens of anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collection, in both the UK and US. She lives in Brighton, England.

About Undone

When Lana Greenwood attends a glamorous house party she finds herself tempted into a ménage à trois. But the morning after brings more than just regrets over fulfilling a fantasy one night stand. One of the men she’s spent the night with is discovered dead in the swimming pool. Accident, suicide or murder, no one is sure and Lana doesn’t know where to turn. Can she trust Sol, the other man, an ex-New Yorker with a dirty smile and a deep desire to continue their kinky game?

Undone is published on Sept 11th, 2014. Pre-order with Amazon: Amazon UK paperback::Amazon UK Kindle :: Amazon US Kindle :: Amazon CA paperback::Amazon CA Kindle

Kristina’s Kinky Cocktail Party: Celebrating Kristina Lloyd’s New Novel, UNDONE

Kristina Lloyd Blog Tour buttonunnamedI’m very excited to help Kristina Lloyd celebrate the release of her sizzling new novel, Undone. She’s invited me to the gala celebration. Along with lots of fab authors and lots of naughty, inebriating cocktails and excerpts there’ll be plenty of yummy giveaways as well!

AND the fun will continue through the entire month of September with Kristina’s fabulous Undone Blog Tour. If you want to follow her on that tour (and she will be stopping by here! ) Here’s where you’ll find her.  The Undone Blog Tour. 

Belly up to the bar and join the fun because it’s my turn to serve up the cocktails at Kristina Lloyd’s Kinky Cocktail Party, by naming my poison, so get ready for fizz and get ready for a bit of Latin dancing while I serve up Champagne Ritas along with an intoxicating dose of The Initiation of Ms Holly!

If you’re still standing when the drinking and the dancing are over, comment with your favourite cocktail for a chance to win a copy of my novella, Surrogates. Bottoms up!

 

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Champagne Rita

A delicious recipe for Champange Rita, with tequila, limeade, triple sec and Champagne.

1 1/2 oz tequila
1 1/2 oz limeade
1 1/2 tsp triple sec
3 oz Champagne

Pour the tequila and triple sec into a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice cubes. Shake well. Strain into a champagne flute. Add limeade and champagne, stir briefly, and serve.

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You can join the party and sample other kinky cocktails, more filthy excerpts and more fun by going here – http://kristinalloyd.wordpress.com/2014/08/29/undone-blog-tour-launch-kinky-cocktails-and-digital-drinking/

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Blurb from The Initiation of Ms Holly

Book One in The Mount trilogy (Click here for: Book Two | Book Three)

Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.


Holly Final Cover ImageExcerpt from The Initiation of Ms Holly:

Edward’s hand slipped underneath the spaghetti straps to cup her breast and stroke her engorged areola. ‘Expensive dress?’

‘What?’ Intimidation knotted her stomach. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Not really.’ She could hear him filling the champagne flute. ‘I’ll buy you a new one.’ He lifted the glass to her lips. Just as the taste hit her tongue he pulled it away and she felt a cold wet splash over her left breast. She stifled a yelp, but not before his lips clamped down tight on her drenched nipple, and the friction of tongue and teeth on wet silk caused delicious shock waves down her belly all the way to her cunt.

‘You know,’ he said between sucklings, ‘at the command of Louis 15th, the original champagne glass was said to have been shaped like the breasts of his mistress, Madame Pompadour. I can understand why. Once you’ve suckled champagne from a beautiful breast, champagne alone, no matter how expensive, isn’t nearly as nice.’

Another cold splash across both breasts and down her cleavage. She gasped and held him to her as he shoved down the spaghetti straps and freed her into his hungry mouth. ‘What if people are watching?’ she whispered.

‘Don’t worry. I know the owner.’

Another drizzle of fizz, but this time over her belly, dripping down icily against her mound. She squirmed and ground her hips against the seat.

‘Open your legs for me,’ he whispered. ‘There’s one cup even more perfect than Louis’s design.’

She did as he asked, wriggling and lifting her butt, her pussy clenching in anticipation. In one fluid motion, he shoved the dress up over her hips and pulled her panties down and off over her shoes. She wasn’t sure how he had managed it, but he manoeuvred himself onto the floor beneath the table. Before she could figure it out, cold liquid bubbles tickled her clit and dribbled down between her labia chased by the white hot lavishings of his tongue.

She moaned and everything inside her tensed with the surprise of it, the tantalizing, bracing shock of it, just before everything went molten and she slid down in the booth until her bottom was practically off the seat.

His hands kneaded her buttocks, thumbs spreading her folds open to the explorations of his mouth. ‘The perfect cocktail,’ he spoke against her pussy. ‘Champagne and lady juices.’

The music changed to a Latin beat, and behind her blindfolded eyes, bright flashes of colour burst and exploded like fireworks as she rocked and thrust, concentrating only on his mouth and her pussy and the sweet tart scent of champagne bubbling against her slit. She was so focused that she nearly slid off the seat when he pulled away, and she heard scrambling under the table.

‘What’s wrong,’ she gasped. ‘What is it?’ ‘Excuse me, but might I have this dance?’

The voice near her ear at the side of the booth startled her and she jumped. It wasn’t Edward’s!

‘I love Latin dancing, don’t you?’

‘What? Dance?’ She gasped. ‘Now’s not a good time. Who are you? Edward? What’s going on?’

There was the familiar whisper in her other ear. ‘Go with Alex, Rita. Trust me, now’s a very good time.’

Before she could protest further, she was half dragged, half tangoed on to the floor. ‘How can I dance,’ she panted, ‘when I can’t even see?’

There was a humid chuckle close to her nape. ‘What? You don’t trust me to lead you?’

‘Not when my brain’s in my knickers.’ She struggled to catch her breath.

‘You’re not wearing any.’ The words were pressed to her ear in a warm kiss, followed by a sigh of resignation. ‘Oh all right.’ He pulled off the blindfold, and she found herself squinting at a lovely face in a halo of blond curls. A well- muscled man with a dancer’s body pulled her into an intimate tango. She was so close that she could feel the bulge in his trousers and wondered how the hell he could still move so gracefully. Heat flared with the driving pulse of the percussion, and his groin rubbed deliciously against her mound with each shifting beat of the music.

Without warning, he lowered her into a heart-pounding dip, and she yelped out loud, causing several dancers to glance in their direction. As he pulled her back to him, she spoke between clenched teeth. ‘Is this some kind of a joke, Edward gets me all excited then hands me over to someone else? That is if I was with Edward at all. How the hell would I know?’

‘Shshshs.’ Alex covered her mouth with a kiss. ‘Relax. Of course you were with Edward, still are. I’m his gift to you. When you’re done with me, I’ll take you back to him.’

‘When I’m done with you? What’s that suppose to 16

mean?’ She shot a glance into the darkness at the edge of the dance floor, but to no avail. She was blindfolded when Alex led her from the table. She had no idea where Edward was.

Holly cover FINAL9781907761270_FCOnce more he lowered her into a dip, this time pulling her up slowly, lingering to kiss the mounds of her breasts, nipples chilled stiff and clearly visible through the champagne soak fabric. Her pussy clenched with a wave of sensation that reminded her just how close to orgasm she had been when Edward had handed her over. ‘What do you mean you’re his gift to me?’

‘Edward’s a bit of a voyeur, and he wants to watch your pleasure.’

‘What? And have a wank? Oh that’s just great.’

Alex chuckled, and she realised his hand was working its way beneath the slit of her dress. ‘Hardly. Edward isn’t exactly what I’d call a wanker. Trust me, he’ll be more than ready for you when you’re finished with me.’ He shoved the hem of her dress aside until her bare pussy pressed against the bulge in his trousers, then he flicked a finger into her pout so quickly she wouldn’t have been sure it happened if not for the rush of pleasure and wetness. He pulled her still closer. ‘You need to come. Use me. That’s what I’m here for.’

‘I thought that was Edward’s job.’

Another chuckle. ‘I promise you, Edward won’t disappoint.’ He thrust hard against her. ‘Do you want me?’

‘What do you think? You just fingered my cunt.’

Another dip, this time slow and serpentine. With a deft hand, he freed his cock. She didn’t know how he’d managed it, but there, in plain sight with moves that would have made a magician jealous, he slipped his substantial erection between her legs, then he lifted her onto him. With one thrust and a grunt she was completely penetrated. All she could do was wrap her legs around him and hang on, marvelling that with each thrust he never missed a beat of

the music. In fact, he continued the dance as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening, hands cupped supportively under her arse, dancing amid the few other couples who moved beneath the sparkle of the disco ball. Were they blind? Could they not see that Alex was slinking around the dance floor, hammering her cunt with each pulse of the tango?

And she didn’t care. It was totally insane, but she didn’t care. They were thrusting and swaying with the music, and somewhere in the darkness Edward was watching with his cock aching to be inside her. She wondered if he were touching himself. She wondered if his balls felt close to bursting. She certainly hoped so. She wondered if, when she returned, he would take her right there in the booth, her pussy still wet from her erotic dance with Alex. She imagined her fizz-soaked cunt swallowing up Edward’s penis in hungry gulps.

That did it. Suddenly it was as though champagne had been uncorked inside her. She gave a startled little cry as her orgasm exploded up through her, rocking her from head to toe with its impact.

When the aftershocks subsided and the music stopped, Alex danced her off the floor to a discreet nook near a linen cabinet and helped her dismount. Then with a heavy grunt, he spurted his wad into a handkerchief he’d extricated from his pocket. When he finished wiping his cock, he said, ‘It wouldn’t be polite for me to come inside you when you’re with Edward.’

The sense of excitement she felt at Alex’s words was visceral. And surprising. She’d just had totally hot sex with him, and in truth she wouldn’t know Edward if she saw him, but still it was Edward she wanted. Maybe their time together on the train had somehow bonded them. It was certainly a relief knowing that he hadn’t pawned her off, even on such a good lover as Alex.

While Alex tucked himself in, Rita had time for a quick glance around the room. Her eyes now accustomed to the light, she could see only one booth occupied by a single diner. And though that booth was in shadow, she could still make out the shape of a tall muscular man seated, watching.

‘There, now I’m presentable again.’ Alex held the blindfold up for Rita. ‘I’ll just slip this on and take you back to Edward.’

Kristina Lloyd undone_kristina_lloyd-300Pre-Order UNDONE by Kristina Lloyd Here:

Published September 11th, 2014
Pre-order with Amazon

Amazon UK paperback :: Amazon UK Kindle
Amazon US Kindle
Amazon CA Paperback :: Amazon CA Kindle

 

Kelly Lawrence Talks about Erotica: Fact VS Fiction

Wicked GamesAs a writer of both erotic fiction and erotic memoir, the lines between the two can often become blurred. All memoir, even though it is ‘true’ is tweaked and filtered to fit a coherent narrative and while it may be truth it is a subjective truth. Certainly with erotic experiences we may be feeling something completely different to how other participants remember the encounter.

Fiction, of course is ‘made up’ yet most writers whether consciously or unconsciously write from the ground of their own experiences and knowledge. Certainly when writing sex scenes, which is why it’s often especially difficult to write an erotic scene from the perspective of another gender! In fact in my upcoming writing guide, Passionate Plots, published by Compass Books late 2013, I include a writing exercise that uses memory to craft a sex scene for writer’s new to the genre. If you would like to have a go at this, there’s a shortened version below.

Writing exercise – Write your own sex scene using memory.

I don’t want you to have to do too much thinking about who your characters are, what you’re doing and why for this exercise so to ensure that your erotic scene already has developed characters and a plot, we’re going to use a real memory. Yours. Pick a favourite past erotic encounter; it can be anything you choose as long as it’s a good memory, and turn it into a sex scene. Of course you may find yourself tweaking certain details and you could even tailor it to fit in the plot of a current story you are writing or planning, but in terms of the sexual content, use your memory. If you want to detach from it a little, write in the third-person rather than the first.

Think about where and when you can add sensory detail to create an evocative picture. Let yourself be immersed in the memories as you write.

Go.

Read over it a few days later and see how you feel and if there are any parts you would change.

Passionate PlotsOur own experiences are always a good starting point when it comes to writing erotic scenes. The beauty of fiction however is the reader doesn’t know which experiences are or aren’t your own. Of course, if you’re writing good fiction then the reader will be too immersed in the characters to think of the author at all. You can let your imagination go where it pleases. I recently wrote an erotic scene involving oral sex in a stable with a cowboy. Although I used my own sexual experiences as a springboard, creativity took over from there, as – unfortunately – I have yet to have sex in a stable with a cowboy! I love writing paranormal and historical erotic romance in particular as I can take real flights of fancy.

When it comes to writing memoir, it’s a very different process. As the writer you’re constrained to a certain degree by the facts as you see them, and this leads to a spiralling inwards rather than a creative leap – digging down right into your own dreams and memories and feelings. Although I found writing my memoir ‘Wicked Games’ a cathartic process, it was also an unsettling one that left me feeling vulnerable. There’s no hiding behind your characters when you are in fact the character! It’s tempting to gloss over the most revealing parts, but that often takes away from the intensity of the scene.

Erotic memoir is very popular at the moment, although as a genre it’s nothing new; in fact we get our word ‘pornography’ from the Ancient Greek ‘pornographia’ which means the ‘writings of prostitutes’ referring to memoirs that popular courtesans of the period often wrote to entice future clients – and probably, in time honoured girl talk tradition, share with each other too! Anais Nin’s erotic memoirs became literary classics, in stark contrast to today’s somewhat patronising ‘mommy porn’ labels.

Erotica as a genre is so enduring because all of us to some degree like stories and like sex. Put them together and you’re onto a winner. Erotic memoir, as distinct from its fictional counterpart, is I believe so popular because it gives us the forbidden feeling of delving into someone else’s most personal thoughts and deeds. It’s almost an act of voyeurism, and that’s partly what makes it so hot for the reader and sometimes unsettling for the writer; it’s like inviting the world into your bedroom. Of course as the writer you can pick and choose what to include, but leave too much out and it will feel inauthentic to the reader. Include everything, and you feel as though you’re walking around naked.

Often when writing ‘Wicked Games’ I struggled with including particular scenes that left me feeling raw, yet I knew would be brilliant for the book. More often than not I included them, and I think that feeling of being exposed made the writing better. I do wish my friends wouldn’t insist on reading parts of the book aloud when we’re in a public place however!

Of course there’s the option to ‘fictionalise’ a real encounter; I recently published a piece of ‘flash fiction’ that was originally a journal entry, and very real, but with longer pieces this can mean losing out on two counts. The writing lacks the appeal of being a memoir, but is more constrained than fiction. My advice to anyone considering memoir is just do it, but consider leaving the country afterwards.

Having said that, I’ve found that if you tell people you write erotica, no matter how fictional your work, they will still assume you have indeed had all the experiences you write about. So I would just like to take this chance to state; the scene in the sex club with a pack of shape shifters? Most definitely fiction. Mostly….

Wicked Games Blurb:

A red-hot account of how an everyday woman is seduced into a thrilling sub/dom relationship. This is true-life erotic romance at its best.

From the Back Cover

‘I unwrapped his gift with shaky fingers. A pink and black silk blindfold. It was deceptively pretty and harmless looking. A bit like Alex.’

When Kelly meets Alex, she has little idea of the sexual revolution about to take place in her ordinary world. For Alex isn’t like other men. He likes to play games – wicked games – and he wants Kelly as his playmate…

Dare she submit to him – and to her own deepest, darkest desires?

In Wicked Games, every word is true. You’ve read the fiction – now find out how it really feels to surrender to the one you love…

Published by Black Lace Books, Random House RRP £7.99 Also available in ebook.

 

Extract from Wicked Games

Then he reached for the butterfly clamps that I only now realised were on his desk. Of course, before he had ordered me in here all but naked he would have known how he wanted to play it. I licked my suddenly dry lips as I saw the clamps in his hands. I had wondered when they were going to make an appearance. Lately his nipple play had been getting rougher and more prolonged, as if in readiness for more brutal treatment. He would twist and pinch until my breasts ached. I had such sensitive nipples they practically had a direct line to my clit, so I guessed he had been building me up to the clamps.

‘This won’t hurt, but they will pinch a little. It’s when you take them off that they will really throb, but,’ he paused to suck a thumb and forefinger and then teased one nipple with them until it stood to stiff attention, ‘by that point, you’ll love it.’

I hoped he was right, wincing as he fastened the clamp over me. After the initial pinch it wasn’t too bad, and my arousal increased as he carefully applied the second.

‘Gorgeous.’ He admired his handiwork. ‘And now, you may suck my cock.’

I bent my head to take him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around his glans to lubricate it before sucking it vigorously, then slowly sliding down the length of his shaft. As I did so he tugged and twisted on the clamps, pulling my breasts up and sending shocks of pleasure through my nipples and down to my now-throbbing clit. As I sucked him harder he pulled harder, so that I moaned around his cock.

Abruptly he stood up, taking me by surprise.

‘Stand up and turn around. Bend over the desk with your palms flat on it. Yes, like that.’

He kicked my legs wider apart with his foot as I bent over just enough to support my weight on my outstretched hands, the stiletto boots putting me at just the right height. He reached around to my breasts with one hand, pulling at each of the clamps in turn as he eased his cock into me, his girth making me gasp. He began to move inside me, slow and rhythmic, teasing at my nipples. It was an exquisite torture that made me desperate for more, but every time I tried to push my ass into him, hungry for him, he only slowed down, making me grip the desk with my fingers in frustration. I was desperate to touch myself, but knew I would only be reprimanded and that he might even stop altogether, so I tried to hold myself still, the sensations building in me as he played my body expertly. I was so wet around him I could feel my juices soaking my thighs, and a high whimpering sound came unbidden from my mouth.

‘You like that, baby? Hmm, I think I’m being too soft on you.’

He pounded into me then with a stroke that all but had me sprawling over the desk, stopped only by his hand in front giving a now-truly-vicious twist to my aching breasts. He fucked me hard and fast for a while, his hands at my breasts mimicking his rhythm, and I drowned in the pain then pleasure then pain then pleasure that warred for supremacy within me until they merged into one and I was no longer aware of the difference between them.

He stopped, pulling me up and round and on top of him so that I was straddling him on his chair, and paused for a moment to remove the clamps, tossing them to one side. As promised my nipples began to throb immediately and with an intensity that made me gasp. He took my breasts in his hands, pushing them together and sucking hard on my already tortured nipples. I rode him frantically, my orgasm taking me over completely, his mouth sending shockwave after shockwave through me, drawing my orgasm out as if he were wringing every last drop out of me. Only when I collapsed on top of him, panting, did he release my breasts, guiding me back on to my knees in front of him to finish as we had begun.

I can, without hesitation, thoroughly recommend nip­ple clamps.

 

Buy Wicked Games Here:

Print:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

eBook:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

 

Kelly LawrenceAbout Kelly Lawrence

Kelly has been writing since she was able to pick up a pen and wrote her first novel, an historical romance about Anne Boleyn, at the tender age of twelve; it consists of 200 notebook pages tied together with string and still takes pride of place in her grandmothers’ display cabinet. She was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-one, and graduated with first class honours from Warwick University in the meantime. After seven years as a literacy teacher she now writes full time. ‘Wicked Games’ is her first book, a true-life erotic memoir that she hopes will scandalise the locals in the beautiful village she now lives in, in the heart of the Derbyshire Dales. She lives with her wonderful and long-suffering partner and has recently become a practicing Buddhist.

Find Kelly Lawrence Here

alannta@yahoo.co.uk

Thrill Seeking with Kristina Lloyd

Kristina LloydThrill Seeker Kristina Lloyd erotica

It’s my pleasure to have the very lovely Kristina Lloyd as my guest today. Kristina is sharing a little about her new novel, Thrill Seeker. Welcome Kristina! Do tell!

Thanks for inviting me over, KD! I’m here to share a little about my new book from Black Lace, Thrill Seeker, and would like to introduce my central character, Natalie Lovell.

Natalie’s a fairly ordinary women in her early thirties with a dull job, some good friends, and the standard amount of heartbreak under her belt. What makes Natalie extraordinary is that she’s on a mission: to know her sexual self. But the course of kink, like that of true love, never did run smooth, and we follow Natalie as she pursues an increasingly risky and muddled strategy in her determination to reach her goal. It doesn’t help that Natalie finds danger and fear enticingly erotic. If BDSM had health and safety inspectors, they’d be tearing their hair out over my protagonist.

One of the reasons I describe myself as a writer of erotic fiction rather than of erotic romance is because I like writing about individuals on a journey toward sexual authenticity. This doesn’t preclude the development of a core relationship, of love or a happy ending, but those factors aren’t driving the story. Nor does it mean my fiction isn’t romantic. It often is, albeit not conventionally so.

For Natalie, the exploration of her submissive sexuality on her own terms is key part of her self-actualisation. However, haunted and inhibited by incidents in her past, Natalie has taken some years to reach a point in her life where she feel brave enough to move forward. As she says:

I realised I had two choices. I could stick my neck out and start being honest about my desires, or I could suppress my feelings and remain in the closet, hoping someone would eventually find the door to let me out. Basically, I could live or die; or at least, live a life not fully realised. Giving up on certain aspects of yourself, the parts others might find distasteful or threatening, is the easiest thing in the world. It’s the safest route, the path of least resistance.

Natalie has played safe and secretive for too long. So she ventures into kinky internet dating, her first success being Baxter Logan, a charismatic, sexy, screwed up Scot who goes on to betray her after they’ve fallen in love. Readers meet Natalie on ‘take two’ of her online explorations where the risks have already escalated: she’s confessed to having kidnap fantasies to an intriguing stranger, Den, who hasn’t even offered a photo of his face.

This isn’t a D/S relationship which begins with contracts, safewords, clear consent and unambiguous boundaries. Many of Natalie’s fantasies centre around being forced, rendered powerless, and having choice removed. She enjoys the taste of fear. When Natalie discovers the term ‘edgeplay’ she finally has a channel for articulating and formalising some  of her desires. Here’s Natalie, mulling over what she wants:

‘Edgeplay’ was a concept I’d recently discovered and I’d added it to my mental BDSM dictionary along with other words which had once seemed peculiar in the context of sex, such as ‘scene’, ‘submission’ and ‘play’.

Although the definition seemed hard to pin down, I understood edgeplay to mean scenes where kinky activity takes place on the threshold of the submissive’s fear. Safewords aren’t used since they remove the fear. I was pleased to learn about edgeplay, not least because its existence made me feel less alone in wanting to be taken to the edge of safety, to the zone where my lust could blossom in darkness.

I recalled a word Den had once used in email: liminal. I’d had to look it up. Liminal, I learned, referred to times and places which were neither one thing nor the other: the margins and boundaries; the in-between spaces; those unstable moments of change such as the hours of twilight, the greying, glittered suspension between day and night.

That’s where I wanted to be, not secure in a walled fortress but blissing out on submission in the shifting magic of dusk.

Ultimately, my greatest concern was not my welfare but that, in clarifying an arrangement, Den and I might negotiate its heart out by stripping away risk and fear. What would be the point? I wanted to feel this in my veins, in my deepest shadows. I wanted lust spiked with terror. I wanted to be in his power, my desires ostensibly secondary to his. I wanted to know the truth of my fantasy of being abducted and taken to a place where I would be tested. How far could I go? What would happen to me on the margins of fear? Who would I become? That’s what I wanted. I didn’t want us to arrange to play a nice game by nicely discussed rules.

***

If you enjoy your erotica on the light and cheeky side, Thrill Seeker may not be for you. But if you want to try a book my publisher describes as  ‘Fifty Shades Darker than EL James or Sylvia Day’ then strap yourself in and hold on tight. Thrill Seeker is intended to be a wild, exciting, scary ride!

To find out more about Thrill Seeker, visit my blog and follow the links for a couple of sexy excerpts.

Thrill Seeker is out now in the UK in paperback and Kindle, and will be released in the US and Canada in late June.

Kristina Lloyd

Kristina Lloyd is the author of four Black Lace novels including the erotic thrillers, Asking for Trouble and her most recent book, Thrill Seeker. Her short stories have featured in numerous anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collections, and her work has been translated into German, Dutch and Japanese. She’s been described as an author who ‘writes sex with a formidable force’ and ‘blends literary and popular styles beautifully’. Kristina has a master’s degree in Twentieth Century Literature and lives in Brighton, UK. Visit her at http://kristinalloyd.co.uk