A Little Experiment: Take Control

Comments Off on A Little Experiment: Take Control
November 15  |  BDSM, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

It’s been a little while since I shared a taster from my Female Sub/Male Dom collection, Take Control…so here you go!



Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission is a collection of toe curlingly sexy tales of bondage and female submission from the pen of best selling writer Kay Jaybee. From a spankingly delicious Dinner With Tess, to a Staged public sex fantasy, an unforgettable alfresco hosing in Deluged, a kinky scientific Experiment, and the realisation of a long held threesome fantasy in The Necklace, Take Control offers five bite sized stories that will satisfy any lover quality erotica.


I’m going to tease you with a little taster from The Experiment

They would follow his instructions to the letter. That was what she had claimed. Still, he was suspicious. It was probably all a con, a devious way of playing on his growing obsession. But it might not be – it might be genuine – he might get to see what he longed to see…

A petite, traditionally dressed, stunningly beautiful Malaysian girl led him into a dimly lit room. The scientist dropped his briefcase next to a comfortable wing-backed armchair, behind which was a small but well-stocked bar. Suspended from the ceiling, a state of the art camcorder pointed forwards, poised and ready to record all that was to follow. Tastefully tame classical music was being piped into the room via a number of wall speakers; speakers which he hoped would reveal some far more interesting sounds in the very near future.

About a metre in front of the chair, a large picture window had been fitted neatly between that room and the next, creating both a theatre and private audience auditorium. A thick red curtain was drawn across the other side of the glass, so that as yet the voyeur could witness nothing from the space beyond.

The hostess, hovering by the bar, gestured to the various bottles of spirits with a questioning glance. He selected a whiskey and, shrugging off his jacket, waited as a triple measure of amber liquid was sloshed into a cut-glass tumbler. With the drink, the girl passed him a white envelope, on which was written The Story Thus Far.

He sat down, fumbling open the letter with hasty fingers, and his eyes devoured the words: Shortly you will see Gail and Jade. Both have been fully appraised as to your requirements. They have been placed within the neighbouring room, secured as per your instructions.


Before your arrival, again as you requested, the girls were subjected to considerable concentrated arousal to the breasts alone, and had nipple clamps applied. Both females are now desperate for further attention. We hope you enjoy the performance. Sit back, relax, and enjoy. The Malaysian girl bowed and left.

Making himself as comfortable as possible, he sat in the chair, satisfied that – so far, at least – his wishes had been carried out.

This whole thing was an experiment: an exercise to discover how much attention needed to be applied to a woman’s breasts alone before climax overtook the subject. Any resulting arousal of his own, he had convinced himself, was coincidental, and of secondary importance to the enquiry…


If you’d like to buy this e-book, it is available from Amazon UK, Amazon.com, and all good e-retailers. (It is also available for Kobo, Nook and on iTunes)


Happy reading everyone,

Kay xxx

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Waiting for the Courier to Call…

Comments Off on Waiting for the Courier to Call…
August 15  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

I have a confession. I am dreadful at waiting for things. Most of all, I hate waiting in for couriers, postmen, workmen etc. I loathe how my life has to be fitted into their time frame-. The words, ‘We will call between 9am and 6pm’, drive me nuts! As if I don’t have a life to be getting on with!!

This is why I am so grateful to the courier boys who regularly bring work related deliveries to my home- for in return for the occasional top up of their tea flasks, and the use of the bathroom, they always call me and tell me when they are heading to my home, so that I can get out and about and on with my life. Plus, they pass on as many story ideas as their naughty little minds can think of! They are my muses, and they never let me down! Without them, there would be no Not Her Type at all!

Young couple, isolated on grey background


When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned. 

One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type…

The kindness of my own little troop of delivery men however, doesn’t mean I am not still at the mercy of the couriers I don’t know (believe it or not, I don’t them all!!). Having to wait, trapped inside my home, not being able to concentrate on anything I am doing properly in case I have to stop and sort out whatever is being delivered, a feeling of cabin fever usually grips me within an hour. The frustration of my own inability to settle to a job drives me nuts.

I drew upon this feeling of frustration- the annoyance of constant waiting- when I came to describe Jenny’s feels as she sits at home trying, and often failing to work, hoping that one o’clock on Tuesday afternoon will come around quicker, so that her lover, John will arrive. This frustration flows into the rest of her week, as she continually hopes he’ll turn up unexpectedly on a different day.

It is a while before Jenny realises that John is just as frustrated with the weekly gaps between their meetings as she is, and that he looks forward to seeing her as much as she does him…

Sexy - hands on back

At the sound of a van being parked in the driveway, Jenny flung open the front door, her heart thumping against her ribcage, her palms dotting with perspiration. Striding quickly from his vehicle toward his customer, John stepped into the narrow hallway; the expression on his face spoke volumes, reassuring Jenny that this, whatever it was, wasn’t over yet.

Before either of them had spoken a word they were rolling on the living room floor, speed being of the essence. Mouths glued together, their hands, legs, and tongues were a tangled mess, everywhere at once. Jenny’s psyche swam with a heady mixture of sensations, fuelled by the never ending surprise at how much lust she felt toward her visitor, and how much desire he seemed to feel toward her in return.

Taking her shirt from Jenny’s shoulders, freeing her luscious breasts from their delicate cream bra, he sighed, and suddenly Jenny realized that he had been looking forward to this as much as she had. Up until now, she had convinced herself that he didn’t think about her over the course of the week. It was like a mantra of self preservation in her head that she repeated over and over: I must remember I’m just convenient to him. We simply use each other for sex.

Roughly pulling at each other’s clothes, they were soon totally naked. Stepping away, Jenny gazed hungrily at him. He is just so yummy, so sexy, so… This was the first time she’d seen him completely nude. Previously, in their haste, trousers and boxers had remained around ankles, shoes and socks had been simply ignored. It was a minute frozen in time, as she examined him and he examined her; their appreciation was obviously mutual.

Drawing on a condom, John lowered Jenny back against the carpet, lying above her so his hard dick nudged at her skin, tantalizingly close to her clit, sending mini shocks of expectant electricity through her body…


When I wait in for parcels that I’m expecting, for the boiler to be serviced, for the plumber to arrive etc, I try so hard to relax- but I am hopeless. I like to be out of the house. I write best in my local café, and if I can’t get there I am a nightmare of unproductiveness! Thank goodness for my well trained couriers!!!

If you want to read more from my courier kink, then you can buy it from all good book and e-retailers including-




Happy reading,

Kay xx

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Kink on the Doorstep: Not Her Type Sale Ends Soon!!

Comments Off on Kink on the Doorstep: Not Her Type Sale Ends Soon!!
April 26  |  Book Publications, eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

There’s not long left to snap up your e-book version of Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man at the bargain price of 77p or $1.29!! (Buy links below)

New NHT-2013-cov

The inspiration for my courier connected story came from many of the tales that the various delivery men that visit my home have told me over the last twelve years. I swear their list of kinky ponderings is non-stop!

Since writing Not Her Type I have got to thinking about all the other professions where there is an opportunity for a spot of sexy ‘hit and run.’

How many of you out there have coveted the man who’s come to service the washing machine? Fancied the plumber- standing just that little bit too close to his bent over backside while he attacks your blocked u-bend?

What would be the ultimate challenge in doorstep seduction? The window cleaner?- Bit too cliché perhaps? The guy or gal who turns up at your front door trying to flog you double glazing or convert you to a ‘definitely cheaper- honest’ electricity supplier? The Avon Lady? The fit young student earning pin money trying to get you to sign up to a monthly charity donation scheme?

Surely the ultimate challenge to end all impromptu seduction challenges would be the Jehovah’s Witness?- A step too far perhaps?? Fair enough.

Each and every one of these scenario’s can form the potential kick off for a juicy new short story. Even as I type this blog, my erotica cogs are a turning…so much material…so little time…

It is from such ponderings as these that Not Her Type was born, after hearing more erotic (and downright pornographic and frequently physically impossible), fantasies and confessions from the delivery men who have visited my home over the years with various work related packages every week. (Not including my current one I should add!)

Such is the nature of the courier’s tight schedule, that any lust he or she has the opportunity to release during the course of his or her day, will be very quickly delivered indeed.

Jenny, the customer who becomes the centre of every sexual fantasy her courier, John has, in Not Her Type, discovers very early on that no matter how much she looks forward to her lusty encounters with her fuck-me handsome lover- it’s rarely going to last more than five minutes!

…Jenny had been ready for an hour. Dressed as per his request. Black jeans, black low-cut shirt, black bra, black knickers.

A rare text from John late the night before had warned her that even compared to normal, they wouldn’t have long. But then, we never had long.

He was already speaking as he came into the house, his tone hectoring, “No time to explain. I have a stupidly large new van and company. A new assistant to train. He’s practicing parking. We’ve got two minutes until he manages to get the truck into a space. Then he’ll be knocking on the door.”

Jenny’s mouth opened to argue, to say that two minutes was impossible, but she didn’t have the chance to say anything as she was driven to her knees with the order, “Suck my cock.”

In the back of Jenny’s mind, the countdown began….

So, if you are a connoisseur of the daytime quickie- then perhaps delivery men, Avon ladies, or window cleaners are the folks for you!!

Buy links…

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345730&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+TYpe+kay+jaybee

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345892&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+Type+kay+jaybee

Happy reading everyone!!

Kay xxx


Tagged , , , , ,

Review- The Pleasure Dial by Jeremy Edwards

September 17  |  Reviews  |   Kay Jaybee

A couple of years ago, I had the great pleasure of reviewing The Pleasure Dial by Jeremy Edwards, the very first e-novel published by the erotic e-publishers, OC Press. Now The Pleasure Dial has undergone a revamp with 1001 Nights Press, has a gorgeous new cover- and deserves another review.

Pleasure Dial 2

This rare thing, the comic e-novel, is set in the world of the 1930’s Hollywood- and it is a corker!

The year is 1934, and amiable New York gag writer Artie Plask has taken the West Coast plunge. His first day on staff with a top radio show introduces him to the irresistible Mariel Fenton, a wit among wits who immediately takes an interest in all aspects of Artie’s life—especially his private life. As Artie finds his feet in a world of blustering comedians, pansexual sex goddesses, timid screen legends, exhibitionistic scriptwriters, and self-infatuated geniuses, Mariel leads him on a zany journey up and down the pleasure dial—a giddy romp through Hollywood that’s chock-full of airwaves showdowns, writing-room counterplots, devious impersonations, naked meetings, and a sensuality-drenched assortment of erotic escapades. 

The opening line of the book alone was enough to hook me- it is quite possibly the best opening line I have seen in any erotic story ,“Artie was looking up the skirt of his favourite Macy’s mannequin when he decided to head for the West Coast”… Inspired!

I smiled and giggled all the way through this romp – just as I did the first time I read it- as Mariel leads Artie on a  kinky dance of yummy-ness through a glittering new world of both sexual and career fuelled possibilities.

Fear not however- the humour doesn’t detract from the sensuality of the piece- this tale is toasty!

I have permission from the lovely Jeremy Edwards himself, to share with you a snippet from The Pleasure Dial…and I guarantee it will whet your appetite for a truly enjoyable and sexy read…


‘…After the writing session broke up, Mariel continued typing. “We don’t want any loose ends,” she explained. “Do you mind waiting for me?”

“Not at all,” said Artie. “I have to change back into my street clothes anyway.”

“Would you mind waiting to do that, too? I can just see your long, lean torso out of the corner of my eye … and it’s motivating me to work faster.”

When she’d finally returned the portable typewriter to its case, Mariel’s eyes scoured the pool area. “Where’s my feather?” she asked.

“Oh!” said Artie. “Damn, I don’t know. I must have set it down somewhere when Heffy burst in.”

“I don’t see it.”

“No, neither do I. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I have a jewelry box full of them. Why don’t you go change, and we can get out of here.”

Once in the house, Artie took a wrong turn on his way to the bathroom where he’d left his clothes, accidentally heading toward the library instead. He was about to reverse course when he heard a compelling sound from beyond the closed library door: the sound of laughter—lazy, but undeniably sexual, female laughter.

Heeheeheehee … hmm-hmm … oh!-a-heeheeheehee …

He immediately visualized Mariel’s bountiful quill. This would account for its absence—someone was enjoying the gentle bliss of being tickled with it. Precisely where, he could only imagine.

Unless, of course, it was merely Elyse recalling her favorite bits from today’s script session.

HeeHEEh’heeeeee. Oh, yes, Howie, my pussy lips—the feather, the—ooh, yes yes, tickle my pussy, ti-iiiiiiiiiheeheeheehee …

Feather: check. Elyse: check. That was definitely her voice—and Artie thought she was doing a commendable job of improvising, playing a scene that had certainly not been in today’s script.

He automatically slipped a hand into a conveniently located swimsuit pocket.

“What program are we listening to?”

Mariel had tiptoed up behind him, and suddenly her arm was around his waist and her voice in his ear.

He cocked his head. She sidled around him so as to hear better, and he watched the smile broaden on her face as she became oriented to the content of the entertainment.

“Do you think it’s wrong of us to listen?” he whispered.

“Not where Elyse is concerned—and, by extension, anyone she consorts with. She’d love to know we were listening. In fact, I’ll make a note to tell her, later on.”

Her gaze drifted down to Artie’s swim trunks. “You got a head start on me, didn’t you?” She yanked Artie’s hand from the pocket, replacing it with her own—at the same time maneuvering her body behind him, to urge herself against the muscles of his buttocks. His bare feet shifted with lewd, silent ecstasy on the carpet runner.

I bet those lovely titties would like a little feathering too, mmm?

Howard’s voice, a flat monotone in the writing room, had a more liquid, insinuating quality under recreational circumstances.

Oooh-hee, ooh-HEEEE, yes-y-eeeeee … You’re gonna make me c-c—

“Oh, fuck, Artie, I can’t wait.” Mariel spun him around and wedged him up against the wall opposite the library. She’d found the rubber in his other bathing-suit pocket; Artie had decided from the first day in this environment that it would be convenient to keep them in each and every garment.

She sprang his cock out of the trunks with one hand while shoving her panties down with the other, nimbly stepping out of them while raising her skirt. Artie slapped her ass and pulled her tight against his chest, hoping to communicate with her nipples through blazer, blouse, and bra.

With the rubber in place, she was now struggling to mount him—Artie saw that she had not staged the scene felicitously, given their height difference. He loved her assertiveness, but she’d have to practically climb him like a tree to get her cunt around his cock. “Let’s switch places,” he advised.

“Mmmgh,” she agreed.

This was more like it. Mariel braced herself against the wall, while Artie bent at the knees and lifted her by her hot little ass-cheeks.

Though they’d been pacing this as a frenzied sprint, they slowed down as her lubricated flesh inched its way onto him, both parties devotedly silent while each discrete instant of sensation filtered from their junction through their pleasure-response systems.

“You feel as good as she sounds,” Artie whispered when the connection was complete, knowing Mariel would approve of the remark. Sure enough, the comparison seemed to further energize her blazing libido. Taking advantage of the wall at her back and the hands on her ass, she wrapped her legs around Artie’s thighs, steadied herself on his shoulders, and used every ounce of her strength to squeeze her horny cunt up and down his shaft—now bouncing, now lingering, fucking her bottom off while Elyse’s shrieks and giggles reverberated in the background.

A sustained alto wail from Mariel’s lips told Artie she was getting very close. Sure enough, her left hand disappeared from his shoulder and joined the party down south, claiming its mistress’s clit. With her weight fully supported by his arms and his dick ready to explode any second, Artie had an inspiration.

Relying on her rhythm for momentum, he took the few backward steps necessary to cross the hallway, then pivoted in midfuck. “Turn the doorknob,” he muttered urgently. Mariel complied instantly, streaking the knob with girl juice from her clitty finger.

Everything happened at once. The door swung open and Elyse, who was radiantly naked, screamed in climax, her eyes widening with extra delight as she registered her audience. Writhing on the library sofa, she extracted every atom of pleasure from the quill Howard held to her crotch, while Mariel pogo-sticked on Artie’s cock, her endless orgasmic moan almost as loud as the blonde goddess’s scream. Artie pumped and pumped inside the hug of Mariel’s thighs, his buttocks muscles working in double time and his hands holding her bottom cheeks with such passion that he felt her flesh moulding itself around his fingers.


I have deliberately not given away anything about the plot here- because I really don’t want to spoil your read- and read it you must!!

The Pleasure Dial is available directly from the 1001 NightsPress in paperback and as an eBook, as well as Amazon UK, US, and all other good Kindle, Nook, and PDF Download suppliers.

Happy Reading,

Kay xx

Tagged , ,

5 Days of 1001 Nights Press – Day 5- A Skiff of Snow by Sharazade- FREE via exclusive code…

Comments Off on 5 Days of 1001 Nights Press – Day 5- A Skiff of Snow by Sharazade- FREE via exclusive code…
July 5  |  eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

It’s Day 5 of my 5 Days Of 1001 Nights blog series!

Day 5!!! How did we get here so fast?!

Last, but certainly not least, on our week long wander through the 1001 Nights Press library, we come to a fabulously funny and very clever A Skiff of Snow, by the gorgeous Sharazade!!


I just love this story. It plays beautifully on the misunderstandings that can so easily occur if you confuse American English with British English!

And from today using this special COUPON from Smashwords- you can get it for FREE!!!!!

To use the coupon: Go to Smashwords

Enter coupon BA86W. Good for 100% off, until July 12.

I adore this short erotic tale- see what you think…


Miranda’s on vacation in a foreign country, and she’d like nothing better than to meet–and, well, greet–a handsome local man. But  cultural and linguistic differences seem to thwart her every attempt.  How can she tell a man what she wants if they can’t understand each  other?

Follow Miranda’s adventures as she attempts to overcome the language divide between English–and the English.

An erotic short story of 5000 words. Contains graphic language, lusty situations, and variant spellings.


A Skiff of Snow

Top 10 Things I Like About England Great Britain

1. The men

2. The way the men talk (accents!!)

3. Shopping

4. The sights

Oh, what the hell. 5-10 would just be “the men” again. This whole country is like some Playground of Lust for me. Part of that might be my mood, granted. I just got out of a three-year, nine-month relationship (academic calendar). Nothing dramatic; it died of boredom. Just before we did. He actually broke up with me by text message, and when I first got the message I had to stop and think who he was. Well, I know three people named “Jim.” But still. We’d long since stopped sending sexy texts to each other. We’d go to classes, hang out with separate groups of friends, and on weekends we’d watch TV together, have perfunctory sex, and then go to sleep. There was nothing wrong with him, but let’s face it, there was no spark. It was a case of “any sex is better than none.” I wasn’t exactly heartbroken when we split – except then I was left with no sex!

At first I’d worried that London wouldn’t be different enough from any large American city to make me really feel that I was in another country. That lasted about, oh, five minutes.

For one thing, everyone in England (well, except for other tourists like me) speaks with a British accent. Yes, yes, I know, that’s obvious – except that somehow it still came as a surprise to hear everyone talking that way. What is it about a British accent? Or British accents, I should say, because there are so many different ones. I’m no Professor Higgins, I can’t tell a London accent from a Leeds accent (or from a Welsh accent, which certainly pissed off a bartender once), but I don’t care, they all sound delicious. Sexy. If I shut my eyes, I want to sleep with every man who speaks to me. If I open them, that only eliminates the ones who wear wedding rings. They sound good, and they look good.

The only hard part about listening to them – English people, I mean – is figuring out what they’re saying. Oh, I knew the basics before I came here – we say apartment, they say flat – but there some were really more confusing. Like I guess kids don’t sing “Skip to My Lou” here. Or if they did, it wouldn’t mean the same thing at all, though it made me smile inside every time I saw a restroom. Then in the tube station (there’s another one, tube for subway – pronounced “chewb”), there’s a sign at the edge of the train platform: Mind the gap. What? OK, the gap is that small space between the platform and the train car. You have to step over it to get into the train. I don’t mind doing that. So shouldn’t it be, Don’t mind the gap? Are they telling you that you ought to be annoyed?

A nice woman next to me on the train (sorry, the tube) explained that “mind” in this sense means “pay attention to.” The British mind the gap, they mind the children, and they never mind the bollocks. That last one means… well, it means that lady had some very colorful vocabulary for someone about the same age as my mother. Or “colourful,” I guess it should be. I swear I can hear the extra “u” in when English people say words like that. Yesterday I asked a man to tell me about his “favorite neighborhood” in London just to listen to him. And his favourite neighbourhood even had a theatre in it. Ah, heaven!

I had a few days in London, just seeing the sights—the men at the Tate Gallery, the men wandering around Kensington Gardens, the men outside Buckingham Palace, and just the ordinary men. They were all so nice! And special, somehow.

Like I went to buy a paper – and the little stand said News Agent. Agent! Doesn’t that sound sexy? Like James Bond. The agent was gorgeous, too. Dark, and … well, dark. Dark-skinned, with dark eyes. Of Indian descent, perhaps? I could totally imagine him having champagne with me in a swank hotel, after we’d escaped from some international spies, and before I could finish, he would take my glass, push me down onto the bed, and …


Not only can you get Sharazade’s A  Skiff of Snow FREE for the next 2 weeks, until tomorrow night, you can also get Jeremy Edwards The Pleasure Dial, Gregory Allen’s Bottoms in Love, PM White’s Volskie, and my Not Her Type, from Amazon for the BARGAIN price of only 99c or 77p!!!!!


Just read all 5 of my blogs this week and you could win a free e-book! Count up how many times the word “wonderful” has been used!! (Not including in the blurbs and extracts) and then leave me a comment and your email address, telling me the total. The competition will remain open until next Monday, when I shall announce the name of the winner I’ve picked from a hat!!


I hope you’ve enjoyed our 5 day dip into the 1001 Nights Press!! Don’t forget to get your books while they are still on SALE!!

A huge THANK YOU to Sharazade for letting me share so many extracts from her wonderful pubishing house. 

I’ll let you go now so you can getting on with reading all your new e-books!! Don’t forget to count up the wonderfuls- including this one!!!! WONDERFUL!! 

Happy Reading,

Kay xxxx

Tagged , , ,