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Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 9: Janine Ashbless

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September 1  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

It’s Day 9, and I’m delighted to welcome another of my favourite erotica writers to my site today. I have had the pleasure of meeting Janine Ashbless many times over the last decade, and she is every bit as lovely as she is talented.

Janine is sharing a delicious extract from her incredibly sexy novel Named and Shamed today. You might want to sit down for this one…


“Once upon a time, a naughty girl called Tansy stole a very precious manuscript from a kindly antiquarian. But all of the world’s ancient and powerful magic, lost for centuries, has returned…and now there is much more at stake than a few sheets of parchment! Thus begins a rude and rugged fairy tale, the likes of which you NEVER read when you were little! Poor Tansy is led though the most pleasurable trials and the most shameful tribulations as her quest unfolds before her. Orgasmic joy and abject humiliation are laid upon Tansy in equal measure as she straddles the two worlds of magic and man. Fantasy and BDSM slither together to make NAMED & SHAMED the consummate adult fable. Immerse yourself in this dark and depraved fairy tale, and may all your endings be happy ever after!”



(Tansy is about to realise that she has come under a fairy curse)

Hell. I shook myself out of my reverie, confused. What was I doing, fantasising about Vince and Gavin in almost the same breath? I looked down and saw that my hand was pressed hard against my pubic mound, grinding my swollen clit. My body had recovered from last night’s hammering and — obviously over-stimulated — was now ready for more.

I really needed to cum. Again. Okay, another wank, then.

No, I realised with a sickening lurch, as at that moment the bathroom door slammed shut. What I really needed was to get out of the house before I had to face Gail.

Throwing on my T-shirt and skirt and a pair of sandals, I was out of the front door before she emerged from the shower. My plan was to go fetch my impounded car from Croydon, and on a Saturday morning that meant taking the Underground, so I set out walking to the station.

It was just a bit unfortunate that I’d headed off before I had any chance to cool down. Even as I walked, I was uncomfortably aware of the heat and emptiness of my sex, and the way my panties felt as if they were rubbing in all the wrong places. I suppose everyone gets that sensation sometime – the random hard-on, the crazy gotta-frig-now itch. Well, I had it bad that morning. It made nearly every man I passed a sudden source of interest. Furtively I eyed them up — the delivery guy dropping off crates of tinned food at the corner store, the two youths smoking on the bench outside the Tube entrance, the busker at the bottom of the escalator — wondering what they looked like naked, how big their tools were, what they’d feel like fucking me good and hard.

God, every man had a cock. It sounds stupid, but it was like the revelation of a great secret. Every one of them was capable of fucking me. Think of the potential.

My feet felt clumsy, tripping me up. An unfocused excitement made my blood run quickly. I shook my head at myself, bemused and irritated . . . yet enjoying it too.

Then the next Northern Line train arrived, and things got worse.

It was a Saturday in the middle of summer so of course the ventilation had broken down. And a big chunk of the Underground wasn’t operating because of weekend maintenance, so by the time I got to the middle of town every train, platform and stairwell was packed out. It was sweaty and hot, and inside the carriages we were pressed together, standing room only. I stared into space, pretending not to notice the hot young Spanish student-types I was crammed in against, my breasts bumping softly against the back of the taller one as the train swayed. The stuffy air in here was making me feel a bit dizzy. I hung my weight from the hand-strap overhead, feeling the tick of my pulse in my engorged clit and wishing I could touch it just to get some relief. Wishing I could lick that student’s beautiful neck and feel the stir of his nape hair under my tongue.

That’s when it happened. Someone behind me – unseen and anonymous – cupped my ass briefly with one hand.

Hey, it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been groped on public transport. Normally I make damn sure I protest and embarrass the hell out of them. But this time, I just stood there. The weight of my own churning appetite seemed to pin me in place. When I didn’t react, the hand took the opportunity for another pass, squeezing the full curve of my bum-cheek a little more boldly.

A hot bubble of arousal burst in my sex, releasing a trickle that flooded my knicker gusset.

Tansy, I admonished myself. You dirty cow. Stop this now. But my body wasn’t listening.

Surreptitiously, moving with the sway of the train, my unseen admirer shifted in a tiny bit closer. It was definitely a man: I could smell his aftershave and his skin, and feel his bulk at my back. But I had no idea what he looked like. I licked my dry lips and blinked at the advert over the door, aware now that my nipples, despite the heat of the day, had hardened to points that were poking the Spanish guy quite insistently. I wondered how he didn’t notice, but he was deep in conversation with his friend. I wondered what was happening to me, that I should respond to this molestation so submissively. It wasn’t like me to be shy or fearful.

But then this wasn’t shyness or fear. It was dirty, thrilling pleasure.

The hand moved, sliding all over my right cheek. The flower-print skirt I was wearing was really quite short and those fingers found the edge easily. I wasn’t wearing tights. Warm fingertips brushed my bare skin. Oh God . . . . that felt good.

Involuntarily, I let out a tiny moan, and the eyes of Spanish guy’s friend flicked to me. I flushed, then switched to gazing at the shadowy pipework flashing past the window. My ass was being bumped now, quite gently, by a hard knot of trouser-clad flesh. Shit, thought I. He has a hard-on.

The train gave a sudden lurch around a curve and everyone staggered a little. The man behind me took the opportunity to grasp my hip and pull my ass into his crotch. I didn’t resist. I could feel his erection fighting against his clothes, pressing against my bum.

A stranger’s rubbing his dick against me. And I’m letting him…

Janine Ashbless (Photograph by David Woolfall)

Janine Ashbless (Photograph by David Woolfall)

Janine Ashbless Bio:

Janine Ashbless has had 11 books of erotica published by Black Lace, Samhain and others. Her short stories have appeared in many anthologies including Best Women’s Erotica (three times) and Best Bondage Erotica. Most of her fiction has paranormal or dark fantasy themes. She’s currently writing an erotic romance trilogy about fallen angels: the first, Cover Him with Darkness, published 2014.



Many thanks for sharing this most tasty of tastes with us today Janine.

Don’t forget to come back tomorrow, for a bite from the archive of Tabitha Rayne…

Happy reading,

Kay xx


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Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 8: Ruby Madsen

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August 31  |  eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

It’s Week 2 of my Two Weeks of Tasty Taster’s series! An annual dip into the erotica archive of some of my favourite erotica authors. Today it’s the turn of my wonderful fellow Brit Babe, Ruby Madsen, aka, Lexie Bay, who is sharing a morsel from her short story “Eat Me” from “More Smut for Chocoholics”

What better for a Monday morning than to kick start the week with some chocolate?

Over to you Ruby…

Blurb for the Book

More Smut for Chocoholics is all about over-indulgence, taking wicked delight in the erotic consumption and use of chocolate, with tales from some of erotica’s finest authors… Whatever your relationship with the seductive cocoa, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. More Smut for Chocoholics contains tales from Tilly Hunter, Victoria Blisse, Aurelia T Evans, Lucy Felthouse, Ruby Madsen, Jacqueline Brocker, Vanessa de Sade, Wendi Zwaduk, Jillian Boyd, Nicole Gestalt, Slave Nano, Annabeth Leong and Anna Sky.

More Smut For Chocoholics

Blurb for the Story

Chocolates, cocoa coloured underwear, restraints and the heady scent of sex. When Dan brings home a treat, things get messy in and out of the bedroom…



He places the box in front of me and gestures for me to open it. I sit forward so that he can appreciate my legs and cleavage as I do so, then I pull the box towards me and slowly open the lid. I gasp. Inside is a huge piece of chocolate cake. Not just any chocolate cake though, this cake is legendary. I have wanted to taste this cake since I was a child. I remember telling him about it when we first got together and it makes my heart burst that he remembered.

“How did you get this?” I ask. “You can only get this in America!”

“For you baby I can do anything.”

I look up at him, my eyes shining and see that he is hard again. He’s hard because he bought me cake. I’m confused but I like it. I dip my finger into the soft fudge topping drawing it through it until my finger is coated. I lift it to my lips and with my eyes fixed on his I slowly suck the creamy confection off it.

“Don’t tease me,” he growls. “Take off that blanket and spread your legs.”

I do as I am told and he sits down opposite me.

“I want to watch you eat it.”

I look up at him, the raw desire in his voice making my eyes wide. I go to get up to fetch a fork but he barks at me to sit back down.

“I want you to eat it with your hands and I want you to make it messy. Enjoy it, savour the flavour. I want to see the pleasure on your face.”

I look at the huge piece of cake and try to mentally calculate the calories. He sees me hesitate and looks menacingly at me.

“Baby, you don’t need to give a shit how many calories are in that damn slice, because by the time you’ve finished eating it I can guarantee you I will be ready to fuck every single last one of them off of you.”

I giggle and with a sigh of pleasure I pull off a chunk of the sticky sweetness and pop it into my mouth.

“Oh God! That is unbelievably good,” I mumble, my mouth full of cake. A smudge of chocolate fudge topping smears the corner of my mouth and sticks to my lip. I go to wipe it off but Dan stops me, gripping my wrist so tightly it burns.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, “it looks sexy. I want to see it smeared all over your face.”

My heart beats faster, as I remember the last time he wanted to see something smeared all over my face.

I pick up another chunk, my fingers sticky with the thick chocolate sauce that is laced throughout the slice. I slide it into my mouth, making sure that it smears on my lips. The sponge is moist and light; the layers stuck together with a creamy whipped mousse and throughout it there are chunks of milk and dark chocolate which melt in my mouth. I close my eyes and enjoy the myriad of different textures and flavours. My hand rests on my thigh and leaves a trail of chocolaty fingerprints. Opening my eyes I catch him looking at the gap between my basque and my stockings. I know he is imagining licking the trail of chocolate and I smear it again, higher up my leg and towards my glistening pussy. His cock has escaped from his clothes and I want to suck it, to smear it in chocolate frosting and lick it off. I take a handful of cake and bury my face in it, ensuring that I get it all over me. Then I suck it off my fingers as though I was sucking his cock.

“Baby, there is nothing hotter than watching a curvy girl eat cake,” he moans, “but now I need your lips around my cock. Fuck, sweetheart you are so adorably sexy.”

Without hesitation I drop to my knees in front of him, my sticky hands wrapping around his hot, thick shaft. The sharp intake of breath that this causes in him is enough to make my pussy flood again and I swear I must be dripping on the soft rug that I’m kneeling on.

I swirl my finger through the cake topping again and smear it over his cock. His skin is so warm it starts to melt almost immediately.

“Suck it,” he demands and I do as I’m told. I dip my head and envelope him with my mouth, the sweet taste of the chocolate mixing with the salty pre-cum that is leaking from his rosy tip. My nostrils are filled with a heady mix of sweet chocolate and the deep musky scent of his body. I could suck him forever, the velvet smoothness of his cock enhanced by the sweet mousse of the cake. A whimper escapes my lips as he pulls my hair, pulling me off of him then grabbing another soft piece of cake which he pushes into my mouth. The flavour explodes and then he thrusts inside me again. I almost gag but he has been careful, and instead I take him all the way in, letting the chocolate melt around his heat. I pull back and swirl my tongue over the tip, enjoying the feel of his fingers in my hair as he tugs, trying to pull me back down onto him. I resist, enjoying teasing him, knowing I can push him a little way before he will discipline me. He likes the tease as much as I do.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says a smile on his lips that makes my heart melt, “and don’t think I won’t punish you for it later.”

Buy Links

Ruby lexie


Ruby Madsen is the living embodiment of Lexie Bay’s dark side. She loves to explore the dangerous things in life, prefers the wilder side of romance and firmly believes that being naughty is more fun.

Ruby has a dirty laugh and, she’s been told, an even dirtier mind. She’s a stocking wearing, chain smoking tease with a fondness for red lipstick and bad boys and she wishes she’d been born in the 1950s when men were men and women were pin ups.

She’s currently working on something dark and sexy and you can expect lots of kinky games, raw emotions and not so much of the happily ever after, because sometimes life’s just mean and your heart gets broken. Although Ruby likes to believe that there’s always something round the corner…

You can get naughty with Ruby on Facebook and Twitter



Delicious, I’m not sure what I need most now, chocolate, or…. Anyway!

Don’t forget to come back tomorrow when one of the queen’s of erotica will be amongst us- the ultra-talented, Janine Ashbless.

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 7: Ashley Lister

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August 30  |  Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

As we reach the end of the first week of my Tasty Tasters series, I am honoured to welcome one of my personal heroes from the world of erotica. Sit back and enjoy this wonderful extract from the pen of the incomparable Ashley Lister.

Over to you Ashley…


When baking entrepreneur Trudy Cole falls for celebrity chef Bill Hart, all is far from sweetness and light. Instead passion, betrayal and ambition makes for an explosive mix in the high stakes game of gourmet dining.

Trudy Cole is an aspiring chef with ambitions to own her own patisserie. When she encounters celebrity chef Bill Hart she finds the older man antagonistic but disconcertingly attractive. Sexual chemistry soon boils to an unbearable temperature and they become lovers.

But Trudy’s affair and ambitions for her own business become too hot to handle when she discovers that Bill has a wife. To make matters worse, her business partner and ardent admirer, Donny, threatens to destroy her patisserie and Bill Hart’s reputation.

At a stately home where Trudy wants to woo investors with her culinary masterpieces, the paths of all three players cross again and the heat is turned up to a much higher setting…



This taster is one of the early chapters from A Taste of Passion, book one in my series Sweet Temptation. This is the first chapter where Trudy gets a chance to meet the restaurateur, Bill Hart.

Trudy’s spent an evening waiting in his restaurant, Boui-Boui, trying to talk to someone about the ingredients in a muffin she’s sampled. The staff have been trying to get her to leave and, eventually, they’ve turned the lights off and locked the door. But now, in the unlit restaurant, a stranger has taken the seat beside her.

Chapter Four

“What do you want?”

Her heartbeat quickened. She had no idea who he was. Had she been left alone with the restaurant’s security detail? Her grand idea of remaining at the table, until the restaurant’s staff were forced to deal with her, no longer seemed like such a clever strategy. A slick sheen of sweat moistened her palms. Her mouth was almost too dry to talk. She started twice before finally finding the words.

“These muffins,” she began. It took every ounce of effort she possessed not to stammer. She willed herself to appear in control. Even though it was dark and even though she didn’t know who she was talking to, Trudy felt the need to exude an air of contained professional calm. “These muffins are delicious.”

“I know. Everything I serve here at The Boui-Boui is delicious. Now, tell me, what do you want?”

It was too dark to see who he was. He was simply a suggestion of shadow against the blackness of the unlit restaurant. His voice had a northern twang to it that reminded her of the blustering heroes from hardy TV shows and gritty films. It was an accent that suggested the words were spoken by someone with no time to tolerate whimsy, artifice or fools. They were plain-spoken words from a plain-speaking man.

His accent trilled softly against her ear like the rasp of a favourite blanket. Maddeningly, she knew his voice was one she had heard before and that she knew well. She racked her brains, desperately trying to think where she had heard it and how she knew this stranger.

“What do I want?” Trudy repeated. It was difficult to believe that the full details of her request had not been passed onto the senior kitchen staff. She brushed past that detail refusing to let her ire show. “Perhaps you might be able to tell me?” she began excitedly. “Are you the pâtissier?”

Even as she asked the question she knew that wasn’t correct. The waitress had told her that the pâtissier was a woman called Kali.

“No. I’m not pâtissier. I’m head chef. This is my restaurant.”

Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Whatever she had hoped to say suddenly seemed unimportant as she realised she was in the presence of a legend. She was briefly thankful for the darkness because it meant she wouldn’t be embarrassed by the fact that she was flustered with this discovery. She was in the presence of her idol.

“William Hart?”


The William Hart?”

“Unless he owes you money, yes.”

Her heart had been racing before. Now it thundered so loud she was sure he would be able to hear it in the darkened silence between them. “It’s an honour to meet you, Mr Hart. You came to the university and delivered a seminar. It was most inspirational.”

He grunted as though the matter was of no importance.

“What do you want?” In his broad accent the question came out as: Waz tha one? “It’s late, I’m jiggered and, whilst I’ve got no problems locking you in here for the night, I’d be better suited if you simply chuffed off back to where you’ve come from. Let those of us who work for a living get some shut-eye.”

She tried squinting at him in the darkness. His dialect and unfamiliar word choices made it difficult for her to work out if he was angry or amused or possessed by some other emotion. If there had been better lighting between them she would have been able to read his eyes and establish if he was sincere in his threat to lock her inside the restaurant.

“I wanted to learn something about the ingredients in your citrus and blueberry muffin.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Are you lakin’ with me?”

She shook her head and then realised he wouldn’t be able to see the movement in the darkness. “I don’t think I’m laking with you. I’m not fully sure I understand what that means.”

“Lakin’?” He sighed. “Are you joking? Are you playing with me? Are you having a laugh? Are you messing me about? Did you really spend your entire evening sat at this table because you wanted to know what’s in one of my blueberry muffins?” He chuckled dourly and added, “I’ll tell you now, lass, the answer to that one was buried somewhere in the question.”

Trudy frowned. She could tell he was mocking her and she supposed her unorthodox behaviour did merit some level of derision. Nevertheless, she was determined not to be dismissed as a foolish blonde who hadn’t worked out that a blueberry muffin contained blueberries.

“I recognise so many flavours in this product,” she said quickly. “I can taste the organic, free range eggs. I can taste hand-milled wheat as well as blueberries and citrus zest.” A revelation suddenly came to her and she said, “I’ve even worked out that those sugars that were initially confusing me are an acacia honey.”

He drummed his fingers on the table.

Her vision was beginning to adjust to the lack of light in the room and she could see the lines that weathered his face. His eyes were wrinkled by the suggestion of constant smiles. She could see he had raised one steel-grey eyebrow, as though encouraging her to continue. She wanted to believe he was grudgingly impressed with her abilities but the lighting in the dining area was too dim for her to read much from the shadows that cloaked his face.

“Well done,” he said drily. “You can taste flavours.”

“But that’s the problem,” she insisted. She quashed the urge to let him hear the impatience in her tone. “I can’t name all of them. There’s one remaining flavour that I haven’t yet been able to identify. That’s why I’m still sitting here. I need to know the identity of that missing ingredient.”

His smile glinted brilliant white in the shadows. The darkness made it impossible for her to see if there was any kindness in his eyes. The expression made her think of a shark on the scent of blood.

“When I delivered my seminar at your school-”

“University,” she corrected.

He waved a hand as though the distinction was unimportant. Continuing without pause he asked, “-can you remember what I spoke about?”

She didn’t have to hesitate. The lesson he had imparted on that day had been one that matched her own beliefs about the ideals of cuisine. Goosebumps bristled at the nape of her neck as she remembered William Hart delivering his message to her and a lecture theatre of two hundred students.

“I remember it vividly. You told us to respect the flavours.” Her voice lowered to a reverential whisper as she repeated the words. “You said that a chef needs to be conversant with flavours. As conversant with flavours as a concert pianist is conversant with classical music. As conversant with flavours as a writer is conversant with works of great literature. You said that it’s the duty of every great chef to respect and understand every flavour in the kitchen. Respect the flavours.”

“It sounds sexier when you say it,” he admitted. “But, despite the respect you clearly have for flavours, you still don’t recognise that added flavour in my citrus and blueberry muffin?”

She started to shake her head and then stopped. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise the flavour. She did know it – or something similar. Her chest began to swell as she realised why she had associated emotions such as excitement and happiness with the flavour.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Her smile grew broader.

It was a Christmas flavour.

“It’s a type of cinnamon, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Is it chuff. It’s not just a type of cinnamon. It’s the type of cinnamon. It’s Sri Lankan cinnamon.”

Her brow creased as she tried to recall all that she had learnt about cinnamon and apply that knowledge to her memory of the flavour in the blueberry and citrus muffins. “From the cinnamomum tree,” Trudy remembered. “It’s not one of the more common variants of cinnamon like the Indonesian or Vietnamese.”

She watched his silhouette nod approval. “You do know your stuff.”

Hearing those words from the lips of William Hart, growled in his impenetrable northern voice, was almost more impressive an accolade than the honours degree that she had received earlier in the day. She knew, when she finally retired to bed this evening in the house she shared with Charlotte and Donny, Hart’s sincere praise would be at the forefront of her thoughts as she drifted to sleep.

Trudy stroked her tongue along her teeth. Now that she knew the identity of the flavour she felt as though she would be able to recreate the muffins in her own kitchen. It took an effort of self-restraint not to leap from her seat to hurry home to start baking. Of course, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t be able to make a start until the morning, after a trip to the local market where she could maybe track down a specialist spice supplier who might stock Sri Lankan cinnamon, but-

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “Thank you so much for sharing that with me. I don’t think you know how much it meant to me.”

His silhouette shrugged. “I can see we share a passion. I enjoy sharing things with people who share my passions. I assume, since you’ve hung around here this long, you have time to let me show you my kitchen?”


Buy link-

Ash Pic


Ashley Lister is a prolific writer of erotic fiction, having written more than two dozen full length erotic novels and over a hundred short stories. Aside from writing, Ashley teaches creative writing and is an occasional performance poet. Ashley lives in the north west of England.



Huge thanks to Ashley, for sharing such a brilliant extract.

Don’t forget to come back for the start of the second week of tasty tasters tomorrow, when the gorgeous Lexie Bay stops by.

Happy reading,

Kay x


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Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 6: Kay Jaybee

August 29  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

Welcome to Day 6 of my Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters blog series!

Today I am bringing you half of a long story from my Fem Dom anthology Yes Ma’am.

This collection is what many think of as pure Kay Jaybee – that is to say – the six stories within Yes Ma’am are of the S&M/BDSM genre. As you can imagine, it was tremendous fun to write…

Yes Ma'am 2015

Here’s a bit of an appetite whetter from the tale entitled Dear Claire….

Dear Claire

She was sure they were having sex. The tell tale bumps and thumps, not to mention the heavy duty groans coming through the thin bedroom walls, had been driving Ali mad for at least half an hour.

Having been invited by Claire for a girlie chat and sleepover, Ali was incensed that Rick had crashed their private party before it had even got started. It doesn’t help, Ali thought as she gave up trying to drown out the muted sounds from the neighbouring room with her pillow, that I’ve had the serious hots for my best friends’ partner for months now.

Escaping to the bathroom, Ali took her time getting showered and dressed. She was surprised to find that when she headed into the kitchen twenty minutes later, Claire was already there, fully dressed, and slipping on her coat and shoes.

‘I’m popping out to grab some stuff for breakfast. Could you be an angel and take Rick a coffee in bed?’

Without giving Ali time to reply, Claire disappeared into the early morning drizzle, leaving her friend with her palm frozen on top of the kettle. The last thing she needed was to see Rick all relaxed and rumpled from sex in someone else’s bed.

Rather than sorting the coffee, Ali left the kitchen, and banged hard on Claire’s bedroom door, ‘The coffee will be in the kitchen Rick.’

Ali hadn’t expected much more than a grunted reply. After all, Rick wasn’t one of life’s communicators. Even Claire agreed that he was only really useful for sex and unscrewing particularly tight jar lids. Yet, the silence from beyond the door was almost eerie. There should have at least been the muffled noises of him shuffling about the bed, or moving around the room hunting down his socks.

A ripple of uncertainty shot through Ali as she stood there. Claire had told her to take the coffee in to him, and now she thought about it, the request had been rather definite. Almost an order. With a final call of, ‘Rick! Do you want coffee?’ Ali inched the door ajar as she repeated her knock.

The reason for Rick’s lack of response was immediately apparent. Ali’s mouth slammed shut. She didn’t know where to look first. All she could think, as she hovered immobilised in the doorway, her eyes roaming with pussy clenching leisure over Rick’s tied frame, was that Claire had intended her to find him like this. She evidently had more in common with her friend than she’d previously thought.

Rick was stood side on to the end of the bed; his legs positioned about half a metre apart. A solid metal shackle, fastened to the leg of the bed frame, surrounded and connected each ankle. He was effectively pinioned to the spot.

His arms were secured behind his back with a pair of leather cuffs, and his dangerous brown eyes were hidden beneath a heavily padded strip of black material, which also covered his ears. Ali realised that he hadn’t even heard her calls. And even if he had been able to hear her, the hard ball gag wedged between his teeth would have prevented him from responding.

With heart pounding disbelief, almost on tiptoe, Ali walked towards the man who haunted her dreams, not sure whether to visit his front or back view first. She opted for his rear.

Her surprise at finding Rick bound and helpless paled into insignificance compared to the shock of what her emerald green eyes spied as she observed his tight arse. On the right buttock, tattooed in tiny neat red script, were the words ‘If I don’t obey my mistress, I will suffer.’

The evidence of this suffering was obvious. Across his butt cheeks and the top of his legs, old welds and bruises littered his skin. An image of Claire bedecked in black leather entered her mind. It wasn’t difficult to picture her whipping her lover for a whole host of unknown crimes.

Reaching out a hand, Ali hovered it in front of his scarred flesh. Her damp knickered desire at odds with the fact that she was about to touch her friends lover. Yet, Claire had set this up. The more Ali thought about it, the more she knew it was okay, and the idea that Rick might not know it was her, only increased her body’s nervous frisson. In fact, until she touched him, he wouldn’t know anyone was with him at all.

Reverently tracing the healing line of a past lash, Ali experienced a rush of adrenalin fuelled pleasure run down her spine and tickle her snatch.

Aware that he was not alone, Rick’s head twisted left and right, his senses straining to work out where his unseen companion was. Ignoring his flailing, Ali knelt as close as possible to the tattoo. Inhaling the aroma of masculinity, her sharp turquoise fingernails followed the loops of calligraphy.

holding pen

From her crouched position, Ali could see Rick’s balls. Passing a hand through his rigidly immobile legs, she teased his scrotum, enjoying the increased tensing of his leg muscles. Suddenly her fingers met a new and unexpected texture.

Moving around him quickly, Ali found herself facing the most solid dick she’d ever seen in her life, all neatly done up in a bright red ribbon. Two small silver keys were attached to either end of the garland, both presumably corresponding to the locks at his ankles and wrists. Ali’s final doubts about betraying Claire dissolved in an instant. The bow adorning his shaft was presenting Rick as if he was a gift.

Without wasting time wondering how her friend had worked out she fancied Rick, Ali began to act. Her tits felt so swollen that she just had to undo her bra. Threading it from beneath her shirt, leaving the cotton fabric flapping open over her breasts, she stalked around the room, studying the three sides of Rick she could easily get to.

Placing the flat of both palms on his chest, Ali inhaled the particularly salty sweat and desire dripping scent of the trapped male. Sliding her hands downwards, she made sure her nails scraped his flesh. Rick’s feet twitched a little, and his wrists rattled against the short chain that joined the leather cuffs. Ali wondered what he was thinking, and if Claire had told him she’d be coming to visit him. Something told Ali that he didn’t know, and to hold back from revealing her presence; to have some anonymous fun while she could. She had total freedom, and suddenly the months and longing to spank this guy until he begged her to stop was too much.

Turning to the mess on the desk in the corner of Claire’s bedroom, Ali picked up a ruler, and without hesitation, began to swipe it against Rick’s buttocks, paying particular attention to the tattoo, aiming one hit at a time at each of the individual letters.

Swaying with every strike, Rick’s feet stayed planted against the plush red carpet, as fresh pink blotches spread across his buttocks.

Pausing for breath, Ali listened to the faint murmurs of sound escaping from the corners of Rick’s mouth. Returning to his front, she licked away the saliva that had gathered around the rubber guardian. Her right hand snaked down Rick’s front; fingertips lingered above his naval for a second, before Ali tugged at one end of the ribbon, releasing his cock from its tight knot.

Ensuring that the satin fabric caressed his skin, she snaked it up his body, tying the ribbon and keys loosely round his neck for safe keeping. Then, knowing she couldn’t get what she most wanted while his mouth was muzzled, Ali undid the ball gag and cast it to one side.

Gasping and spluttering, Rick’s tongue swept over his dry lips. Quickly, Ali placed her index finger firmly over his mouth, her intention that he shouldn’t talk very clear. Then, she pushed his shoulders forward. With his arms secure behind his back, and his legs stuck, there was no way he could kneel down, but he could bend forward, which he did.

Hastily divesting herself of her trousers, so she was just stood in her knickers and open shirt, Ali pulled her belt from her jeans. A new hot pulse of power surged through her as the first strike met the top of his thighs, and a bellow of pain exploded from his mouth. It had been way too long since she’d treated a man like this. She felt high and all powerful, an empress of debauchery. Her pussy twitched and contracted with the moans and groans that issued from his mouth. Seeing a strong man hogtied was one thing, but hearing how much she was hurting him was what did it for Ali.

Her eyes kept straying to the tattoo. It fascinated her. She wondered if Claire had ordered its addition to his fit body, or if it was a delicious remnant of a previous relationship.

Stepping away from him, leaving Rick uncomfortably bent double, his strong stomach muscles working overtime, Ali searched Claire’s desk once more.

Smiling with satisfaction, she twirled the pen she’d found like a weapon. Levering Rick back upright, Ali bought the black biro to his left bicep. Pressing hard, so he was aware of every stroke of the pen, she began to write,

Dear Claire,

Thank you for your thoughtful gift. I guess you know me even better than I thought you did.

Love Ali

Breaking off with a viciously applied full stop, she briefly admired her work, before moving on to Rick’s thigh.

Dear Claire,

I have long dreamed of torturing your lover. I love the tattoo and previous whip marks. I hope you don’t mind the additions I’m about to make.

Love Ali

Again she pushed the pen nib hard, watching as Rick’s toned skin darkened with the pressure of her writing. With each dotted ‘i’ and each crossed ‘t’ Rick flinched and sighed, his confined reactions adding to her own arousal.

Moving to his annoying perfect six pack; Ali began to write once again.

Dear Claire,

Do you favour a whip or a cane?

Love Ali

Dear Claire,

Your lover’s dick is gorgeous

Love Ali

Dear Claire,

I have already tanned his arse. Now I’m going to smack his balls. I’m going to scratch his skin, I’m going to force my tit into his mouth and make him suck until he begs…

Ali wrote on and on, listing all the fantasies she’d ever had, every image that had inspired her midnight dreams. Then, when there was no clear skin left on his torso, Ali progressed to his back. Finally, when no bare skin remained north of his waist, she threw the pen to one side, and breathlessly returned to Claire’s bedside chest of drawers, convinced that would be where she’d find what she wanted to play with next. She was not disappointed.

Picking the short white cane from a tangle of her friend’s silky underwear, Ali trailed it through her fingers…


If you would like to find out what happens next, or discover what other Fem Dom tales are tucked away inside Yes Ma’am’s e-pages, it is available from all good e-retailers, including-

Amazon UK- 

Amazon US-


Thanks for popping by for Day 6 of this look back at past erotica publications.

Tomorrow I’m honoured to welcome one of my erotica heroes – the unique, Mr Ashley Lister. Don’t miss it.

Happy reading,

Kay x

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Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 5: Lucy Felthouse

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August 28  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

Today I’m inviting my dear friend, and fellow Brit Babe, Lucy Felthouse to have a fiddle in her archive. Let’s she what she pulls out for us today!

Over to you Lucy…

Here’s a Tasty Taster from my M/F/M BDSM erotic romance novel, Stately Pleasures. This book will always have a special place in my heart as it’s the first full-length novel I wrote, and I’m delighted that even now, when it’s been out a while, it’s still getting some great reviews. That makes me a very happy author.

statelypleasures (2)


‘Alice,’ he said, firmly but softly. ‘Bend over a desk and pull your dress up around your waist.’

Alice was extremely glad that she’d obeyed her orders and not worn knickers that day. She’d have been caught out very early on if she hadn’t. Moving to the nearest desk, she did as Ethan asked.

‘Good,’ Ethan said, moving close behind her and caressing her bare buttocks. ‘These won’t be nearly as pale when I’m finished.’

Alice was surprised that Ethan was going to be the one doing it. She’d always thought of Jeremy as the ringleader and assumed it would be him. She was about to have her arse turned red, though, so it hardly mattered who was going to do it.

Alice became aware of Jeremy moving to the front of the classroom and retrieving something from the teacher’s desk. He didn’t bother to hide the item as it was an integral part of the task, and therefore she already knew what it was.

A wooden ruler. Watching Jeremy – and, more specifically, the ruler’s journey – from the corner of her eye, her resolve slipped a little. It was wood, for goodness’ sake! It would hurt if a weakling swung it at her bare cheeks, never mind a muscular giant of a man. Fuck.

Jeremy handed the ruler to Ethan, who stroked his big hand over her exposed skin once more. It took all of Alice’s willpower not to clench her fleshy cheeks. She may be nervous, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let them know that.

Both men were right behind her now, and one of them let out a low whistle. From the words that were spoken next, she gathered it was Jeremy. ‘That’s quite a sight, isn’t it, comrade? Our Alice bent over, arse in the air, slit on display. She looks …’ He seemed lost for words now; a rare occurrence.

‘Beautiful,’ Ethan supplied. ‘She looks beautiful, mate. My cock is rock hard already, and all I’ve done is stroke her bum.’

Her face grew hot. The two men were examining her, and far from finding her lacking, they thought she was beautiful. And Ethan had admitted to having a hard-on caused by the sight of her naked arse and pussy.

Jeremy laughed. ‘And you’re not the only one. I’m tempted to stick my cock inside her cunt right here and now. Never mind the spanking!’

‘In that case, I’d better get on with it, hadn’t I?’

‘Probably wise.’

Jeremy stepped back into Alice’s peripheral vision, presumably to give Ethan room for manoeuvre. His expression was perfectly sober, but a glance down told her that he hadn’t been exaggerating about the erection – it tented his smart jeans and made her wish he had just stuck it inside her, like he’d threatened to.

She didn’t have too much time to think about being fucked by Jeremy, though, as she heard a small whooping noise – the sound of the wooden ruler rushing through the air – then the slap of it hitting her arse. Just as the thought that it hadn’t hurt was about to cross her mind, the pain hit. A sharp, stinging sensation raced in a diagonal stripe across her right cheek. Much to her pride, she didn’t yell or scream. She just pulled in a sharp breath and screwed her eyes shut, breathing in and out slowly and steadily, trying to work her way through the pain.

She’d just about dealt with it when the next blow came, this time on her left cheek. Gripping her hands tightly around the edge of the desk she was bent over, she watched as the knuckles turned white, determined to let nothing but the most negligible of noises pass her lips. Again, as the white-hot fire burned through her nerve endings, she sucked in a breath and bit her bottom lip. She would not cry out. She would not.

Given her relative silence, it seemed Ethan thought he wasn’t hitting her hard enough. Or fast enough. After the searing agony of the second blow had dulled into a more manageable ache, he started to spank her more rapidly and with increased force. Alice was incredibly glad that neither of the men had asked her to count the strokes, because there was no way she’d have been able to. The pain was just too much.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

By the time the blows ceased, Alice was collapsed onto the desk, her upper body crushed against it, with silent tears running down her face. But she hadn’t screamed, or yelled. Granted, she’d almost clawed holes in the desk, and bitten her lip until it bled, but still, she’d kept quiet. And for that, she was incredibly proud of herself.

As she started to come back to herself, she noticed two things – one, her pussy was saturated and ached to be penetrated, and two, Jeremy was standing right in front of her, his stiff cock in his hand…


Is it possible to have it all?

Alice Brown has just landed her dream job as property manager at Davenport Manor, a British stately home. It’s only a nine-month contract to cover maternity leave, but it’s the boost up the career ladder she needs.

On her first day, Alice finds her boss, Jeremy Davenport, in a compromising position. Jeremy and his best friend Ethan Hayes, Head of Security at Davenport Manor, turn the situation around and give her an ultimatum. Faced with the possibility of losing her job, Alice agrees to their indecent proposal.

When the dust settles and Alice has time to think, she realises perhaps it isn’t such a bad thing after all. But what happens when Alice thinks she’s falling for both men?

Buy links:



Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:


Phew!!! These tasters get hotter every day! If you have the nerve, come back tomorrow, when I’ll be taking you into the world of Fem Dom erotica…

Happy reading,

Kay x

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