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Slow Burner of a BDSM Love Story

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February 10  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

I’ve been writing erotica for twelve years now, and over that time I’ve built up something of a reputation for penning tales of the S&M and BDSM persuasion. Never has this reputation been more deserved than with Book One of the trilogy The Perfect Submissive. A book which, I’m proud to say, has received many a rave review, including my all time favourite- “…The Perfect Submissive blows Fifty Shades out of the water...” (c/o Lovehoney.)

 

What you might not expect from The Perfect Submissive Trilogy is that is a love story…a slow burner of a love story…

BlurbHidden behind the Fables Hotels respectable facade, five specially adapted rooms wait; ready to cater for the kinky requirements of its guests.

When Mrs Peters, the mistress of the hotels exclusive entertainment facility, meets the new booking clerk, Jess Sanders, she instantly recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education.

Under the tutelage of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with her unexpected training schedule, the increasingly erotic chill she experiences each time she survives a new level of correction, and a truly sexy exercise routine.

 Temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fable’s top floor by  an enigmatic artist, Mrs Peters begins to plan how she can secure his obedient assistance, in grooming Jess into the perfect submissive…

***

Of all the erotically centred characters I have created over the years, Miss Jess Sanders has to be one of my favourites. Despite her submissive status- or perhaps because of it- her bravery is unending. She has more strength and stamina within her than many of the Doms she encounters, and although she is a figment of my own imagination, I am really very proud of her determination never to fail.

At no point on Jess’s journey from hotel clerk to the resident submissive of the Fables Hotel adult entertainment facility, did she imagine she’d fall in love…and yet she does just that.  Quietly, without fuss, and with a sense of disbelief.

The Perfect Submissive Trilogy takes Jess from Oxfordshire to Scotland, and then on a trial- or should that be trial- back through Britain before she gets to where she wants to be- and to who she wants to be with.

Trilogy Buy Links- (Includes The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat and Knowing Her Place)

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Perfect-Submissive-Boxset-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00T58G69M/ref=zg_bs_4542633031_6

http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Submissive-Boxset-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00T58G69M/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424179485&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=The+Perfect+Submissive+Box+Set+Kay+Jaybee

After The Perfect Submissive Trilogy ends, Jess’s determination is called upon once more in The New Room.

The New Room is a novella length finale that wraps up the Fable’s Hotel story. It’s time for Miss Jess Sanders to have one more erotically demanding adventure- but this time it’s in the name of a love she has finally dared to believe to be true…

Blurb

Miss Jess Sanders, resident submissive of the Fables Hotels adult entertainment floor, has been instructed to test out the new facility that her manageress, Mrs Peters, has designed for the sexual pleasure of her clients.

With a dungeon, Victorian study, medical bay, school room, and the daunting White Room already available for their guests, Jess can’t begin to imagine what lies behind the innocent looking door to the new room.

Under the supervision of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, and with the assistance of her colleagues, Lee and Sam, as Jess steps into the new room, she quickly discovers she is about to experience far more than she bargained for…at freezing temperatures.

With the feeling that she’s acting in a play that everyone knows the script to but her, the Fables perfect submissive is challenged to the limit in Mrs Peters new room, and beyond…

***

Extract-

…With a shove of her bound hands against the small of her back, Jess was bent forward so that her feet remained flat upon the floor. Her belly and chest were laid across the throne’s cushion, while her forehead rested uncomfortably on the wooden seat next to it.

The volume of the music increased, and Jess wondered if that meant it would soon have to drown out a greater level of background noise.

As Jess’ companion ordered her to close her eyes, a further wave of uncertainty added to the submissive’s anxiety. She didn’t recognise the voice. It didn’t belong to either Max or Lee. This was a stranger.

Even with the cloak hanging over her back, Jess’ flesh felt an oddly clammy chill of foreboding mingle with the cold. As her nipples buffed against the cording that ran around the edge of the throne’s satin cushion, the sole thought hammering in Jess’ head was, Who is this man?

The Fables had no new male member of staff that Jess was aware of. Although it was possible someone had been hired and no one had told her. Wishing she’d thought to ask Mrs Peters if she had permission to speak during the training session, but not wanting to risk her superior’s wrath by assuming she could, Jess clamped her jaw against the need to ask the owner of the fingers that were exploring the curve of her backside with growing confidence, who the hell he was.

Her neck was beginning to stiffen against the hard chair seat. Jess was just wishing the pressure of the cushion against her chest wasn’t so arousing when the anonymous palms abruptly stilled. All but for the thumbs – which continued to work in small sweeping circles, the simple move pushing Jess’ sex addicted body to silently plead for the man to flick up her cloak and thrust himself into her from behind. Now!

The sound of the door opening again made Jess’ breath catch in her throat as she lay over the chairs. Who else had joined them? Jess’ unspoken question was quickly answered, as the imperial voice of the Fables’ fifth floor manageress addressed the man, who was now kneading Jess’ butt cheeks as if they were mounds of dough.

‘I trust Miss Sanders has been obedient for you, Mr Grant?’

‘Oh yes, Mrs Peters.’ Mr Grant’s voice was husky and dripped as much with disbelief as it did lust.

‘Has the girl spoken, asked questions, or hesitated in her obedience to your requests in anyway? Even fractionally? ’

‘Not one word. Not so much as a pause. The girl is as well schooled as you told me she was.’ The tone of Mr Grant’s voice told Jess that he hadn’t expected her to be the submissive her boss had evidently boasted her to be.

‘I only employ the best, Mr Grant.’ Even though she couldn’t see her, the satisfaction in Mrs Peters’ voice warmed Jess a little against the cold. ‘I have to say I’m impressed with what you’ve built for us. This is precisely the grotto I had in mind. Would you like the tip for your services now, or would you like to be a spectator for a while and take your reward for a job well done afterwards?’

Mr Grant’s gulp was clearly audible as his hands rested over Jess’ hips. Instinct sent her butt up towards him.

Hoping that Mrs Peters hadn’t noticed the unauthorised move, Jess squeezed her eyes together tighter, willing her companion to take his reward now. She desperately wanted his cock inside her.

‘As much as I’d like to witness what you’ve planned, Mrs Peters, I have business elsewhere.’ Mr Grant’s voice was getting huskier, and Jess could hear how close he was to coming already. She doubted that he genuinely had other business. It was more likely that he simply wasn’t able to wait to experience the pliability of the submissive’s flesh. The edgy urgency in his voice was something Jess had heard from many a male hotel guest over the past eighteen months.

Mrs Peters nodded, ‘Then you may proceed…’

***

If you enjoyed that, and would like to know what happens next, you can buy The New Room from-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/New-Room-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00SNOB2YI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422098958&sr=8-1&keywords=The+new+Room+kay+jaybee

 http://www.amazon.com/New-Room-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00SNOB2YI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422099060&sr=8-1&keywords=The+New+Room+kay+jaybee

***

Happy almost Valentine’s Day!

Kay x

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Chapter One: Digging Deep

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January 17  |  Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

DD ebook

Based (loosely!!!) on my own adventures as an archaeologist in searing hot Tunisia many years ago, this novella was immense fun to write. Here’s the first chapter of  my erotic romances, Digging Deep , as a special treat on a cold day …

Chapter One

Irritably adjusting her wide-brimmed hat for the third time in as many minutes, Dr Beth Andrews felt the sting of the African sun sear the back of her neck through the tresses of her long, ginger hair.

She never dreamt she’d miss the stubborn, muddy clay of the British earth she was used to hunting through in her search for archaeological data, but the uncooperatively fine white sand of North Africa was enough to try the patience of a saint.

Throwing down her brush in overheated exasperation, Beth thought fondly of her excavation trowel. Her tool of choice had quickly been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand, and a job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the Ancient Roman bath house site in which she worked backfilled in on itself with every sweep of her light bristled brush.

It had been a dream come true for Beth when she’d been selected to lead the University of Wales’s excavation team, digging the sprawling Ancient Roman city of Lepti Major on the outskirts of Sousse in Tunisia. She had longed to experience new exotic sites and see new exotic sights. The chance to uncover stunning mosaics and city roads that hadn’t been trodden for 1000 years was an opportunity she’d had no intention of letting pass by.

olive groves

The fact she’d be sharing responsibility for the site with her archaeological hero, the unimaginatively named Dr Harrison Harris from Colorado, an American academic who’d been the subject of many of Beth’s private fantasies since she’d fallen in love with his work, not to mention the photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.

Flicking her eyes covertly over towards Harrison, Beth averted her attention away from the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what the site’s previous supervisor had said about working in Africa’s extreme temperatures. “Scalding by day, and freezing by night”. Linda had warned Beth that her freckle-spotted, sensitive flesh would loathe being either fried or frozen just as much as her archaeological brain would relish the challenge of constructing a city from its remains.

Beth hated the fact that Linda had been right. She’d never been rendered so sweaty, not to mention so blotched with extra heat-induced freckles, in her life. There couldn’t have been a centimetre of her body that hadn’t got a fresh cluster of beige dots on it. After only a week under the sun, it was becoming a struggle to hold on to her generally calm approach to life, and Beth was finding that her temper, which rarely flared in the UK, was on a permanently short fuse.

What got to her most was that none of her colleagues seemed to be suffering at all. They were all happily tanning as they worked, and sleeping off their exhaustion with ease at night.

It hadn’t taken Beth more than a few hours of digging in the unshaded bath house on her first day to see that a survival technique was required to prevent the elements disrupting her professional judgement. She tried thinking about work, home, rain, and even walks in the snow as she worked, but only one thing successfully diverted her attention from the exposure of her unusually pale flesh to the elements, and that was to allow her mind to fill with erotic scenarios and fantasies, while her hands got on with the job in hand.

This specialised amusement had the benefit of taking her mind off the sun that managed to scald her back even through three layers of thin cotton, and had the added bonus of warming her at night. Lying on her thin camping mattress, Beth would recall all she’d pondered during the day, engendering an ardour between her thighs that her fingers deftly maximised, leaving her physically warmer and bodily sated, and thus making it easier for her to fall asleep.

At first, Beth had been determined that Harrison would not feature in her erotic musings. Her resolve had not lasted long, however, and although she did her best to make the men in her sexy survival scenarios anonymous, the American’s face crept in with increasing frequency.

Manoeuvring a layer of burning sand from one side of her section to the other, Beth considered her colleague. His reputation as an expert in Roman archaeology was renowned. Beth had never dreamt she’d ever meet him, let alone work with him as an equal. His knowledge and academic intellect had been enough to make her heart flutter for years. Yet what Harrison was like in reality was not at all how she’d assumed he’d be.

She’d envisaged him as being chatty, tall, slim, dark-haired, and weather-tanned. He’d probably wear glasses for reading, and be forever clad in T-shirts and large-pocketed shorts as he leapt around excavations like a gazelle.

In fact, she’d hardly heard Harrison’s distinct Colorado accent. He seemed to prefer his own company to that of the group. When he did talk to Beth, he called her “doll,” which made her feel like a lump of mass-produced, animated plastic.

Harrison was about 5 foot 7, not the 6 foot plus she’d pictured, and his spiked hair was a sun-kissed blond and not brown. His build was stocky and muscular, his bare arms and legs permanently gritted with granules of sand, and although he moved with a speed which would have been the envy of any gazelle, he managed to proceed around the site somehow without making a sound.

The problem is, Beth thought as she traced the outline of what she suspected might be a Roman drain gully, I built up an image of him based on a book cover’s black-and-white out of date headshot, and I was way off.

archaeology in sand

She’d been right about Harrison wearing knee-length shorts, though. Everyone on the dig wore such shorts, except for the stick thin, heavy-chested blonde on the American team, who might as well have been wearing knickers her shorts were so scanty. Beth sighed as she looked down at her own attire. A protective covering of baggy clothing shrouded her limbs, and her porcelain neck was hidden beneath spirals of her ginger hair, which glowed as if she’d been hit by radiation rather than African sunlight.

Ryan wasn’t helping either. The most charismatic of her students had been so enthusiastic on his first morning that he’d headed to the site before everybody else, without waiting for Beth to detail where to dig. Consequently, he’d powered through the ground in an alarmingly gung-ho manner, neglected the recording of each strata-graphic layer and, with his six-pack and biceps shining against 120 degrees of sunshine, had crashed his shovel into the corner of a mosaic that had been safely protected by the landscape for hundreds of years, breaking off half-a-dozen exquisitely coloured tessera cubes, and rendering one of the depicted Medusa’s snakes partially headless.

Beth had gone ballistic. To his credit, Ryan had been mortified. He’d begged her not to tell anyone. For the sake of the university’s reputation, not to mention her fear that Harrison would take one look at her careless student, assume she was no good at supervision, and send her home, she had agreed it would be their secret. Ever since, however, Ryan had been driving Beth mad with his attempts to make it up to her at every opportunity.

Only that morning he’d lent so close to Beth as he informed her he was going to make up for his blunder that his soft Welsh tones had vibrated against her skin. His manner was so blatantly suggestive that she hadn’t been able to prevent the inappropriate smile that had very briefly crossed her lips.

Picking up her dustpan and brush, Beth stroked away the grains of sand that sat between her and her judgement as to whether the lines being revealed were part of the bath house drainage system or not. Expertly tracing the changing colours in the freshly uncovered ground, Beth, confident that her theory was correct, and that the ancient shadows of the gully she could see could be followed across the ground with ease, readopted her technique to deviate her attention from the cruel climate, while her fingers worked the earth.

What exactly is Ryan offering? she wondered. A sneaky snog behind the equipment cupboard? A cooling down of my chest with his tongue? Or is he more ambitious than that? Does he imagine me naked, face down, spread-eagled over an empty wheelbarrow with his cock between my legs; or see us together in the shower, washing off the worst of the sand that seems to be permanently stuck to my body while he shoves his dick down my throat?

For goodness’ sake, woman! she chided herself. Beth was surprised to find her chest, whose generous size she’d always loved before, but now heartily wished was small enough to go without the extra layer of material her bra provided, was becoming taut. Cross with herself, she shook her hair out from beneath her hat, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from her head. Having random erotic dreams might be the only thing that keeps you sane in this blast furnace – but you must not consider your students! Get a grip!

Briskly returning to the matter in hand, Beth cut through a layer of denser sand, wishing Ryan wasn’t working the section directly behind her. She daren’t turn to check he was all right like she did her other students. The last time she’d done so, she had caught him ogling her butt with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, which couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than the type of lustful intentions her own imagination had just so colourfully displayed to her. Ever since then, she had been more than a little self-conscious of the stretch of her cotton combats over her backside.

Crouching on her haunches, letting her eyes roam across the site as a whole, Beth struck Ryan from her mind, and began weighing up the significance of what she was excavating in relation to what else was opening up on the dig before her. As she leant in closer, a glitter of something just below the upper level of the sand caught her eye. Trailing her brush across the yellow surface, she mentally listed all the hidden things that might shine: mosaic tesserae, jewellery, votive offerings to the gods …

With a sharp scream, Beth stumbled backwards out of her square in a mad scramble to escape. Her find was none of the things archaeologists dream of uncovering. In the haste to get away, her left foot caught on the guide string that divided her metre section from the next. Tripping, she fell heavily backwards.

Flushed with an embarrassment that enflamed her already pinkened features, Beth found herself being scooped onto Ryan’s lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Alerted by the unexpected shriek, the other students in the immediate vicinity began to gather round. Most of them, however, backed away the moment they saw what had caused Beth’s unusual lack of professionalism; except for the leggy American, who looked at Ryan in disgust, pointedly rolled her eyes at Beth, and returned to her work.

Beth didn’t have time to think about the blonde’s unsympathetic reaction. All her attention was on the bronze snake which hadn’t appreciated its home being disturbed by an inquisitive human. She was convinced it was staring straight at her, its tongue flicking, smelling the air around it in an accusatory manner.

Her initial shock subsiding, and abruptly sensible of where she was, and how it must appear to see one of the supervisors in the embrace of a student, Beth scrambled shakily to her feet. She wasn’t sure if she was more mortified by her public reaction to the snake, or by the fact that her body felt more than a little content at being cradled so protectively in Ryan’s arms so recently after her erotic ruminations had headed in his direction. ‘I’m sorry, everyone! That was a bit of a shock. I’m not good with snakes.’

‘Don’t worry about it, boss.’ Ryan ran a consoling hand down Beth’s cotton-covered arm, creating small prickles of uninvited lust that appeared on top of the prickles of fear already there, and sending them both tripping towards her crotch.

Rueing her kinky imagination, Beth took another step away from her student. Moving rather too fast, she collided with the stocky frame of Harrison Harris. He’d crossed the site on his ever-silent feet to see what all the fuss was about without her even noticing, causing Beth to jump out of her skin for a second time. ‘Honestly. Harrison, don’t you ever make a sound when you move?’

‘Hardly ever!’ He treated her to one of his Colorado smiles, making Beth suspect that he was privately laughing at her. ‘You OK, doll?’

Not stopping to waste her breath on asking him for the umpteenth time not to call her “doll”, Beth did her best to ignore the twinkle in Harrison’s eye that confirmed he found the situation hilarious, and settled for being grateful that he hadn’t vocalised his mirth in front of their charges.

‘I’m fine. The snake took me by surprise.’

Beth had no doubt this little episode would be site folklore by dinner time. She didn’t usually care about that sort of thing, and was always one of the first to laugh when she made a fool of herself, but now she found her face darkening with embarrassment in the face of her colleague.

‘Is that all?’ Harrison bent down and retrieved the brush Beth had abandoned in her hurry to move away from the snake. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure. Just shock. I don’t like snakes. I haven’t damaged anything, I hope.’

‘No harm done.’ Harrison shot Ryan a look which plainly said “this time”, making Beth wonder if the timing of the breaking of the mosaic had gone unnoticed after all. ‘Here you go, doll.’ He gestured to the creature. ‘He’s just a sand snake. Won’t do you any harm. I’ll move him somewhere safe.’

‘Thank you.’ Beth’s words came out rather weakly as the unfortunate creature was picked up and repositioned against a dune of previously excavated sand, into which it quickly disappeared. Seeing Harrison rehome the creature with no more fuss than if he’d moved a worm from a flower bed to a vegetable patch made Beth even more cross with herself for being so feeble in front of a man she’d so badly wanted to impress. She found herself babbling in explanation, ‘Insects I have no problem with. Spiders are cool. But snakes … I can’t stand them.’

This time Harrison did laugh openly, wiping one of his calloused palms across his forehead, smearing dirt into his spiky hair and knocking back his faded Stetson in the process. ‘You’re a regular Indiana Jones, doll!’

Indie

Keen to keep the general atmosphere light, Beth added, ‘Well. As long as I don’t get chased by any oversized boulders or attacked by a tribe of pygmies with blowpipes then I guess I can live with the comparison!’

Taking a hefty swig from her water bottle, she smiled, relieved that her ability to laugh at herself was finally reasserting itself after days of being diminished by the heat.

Harrison grinned as he strolled to his side of the dig. ‘Gotta love that dry English sense of humour, doll.’

Beth called after him, ‘Thanks for the snake removal, Harry.’

He kept walking as he corrected her. ‘Harrison. It’s Harrison, I told you. I don’t like being called Harry.’

She shouted at his retreating back, ‘And I don’t like being referred to as a doll. It makes me sound like a character in an American B-movie! Message received?’

Still laughing, Harrison didn’t look round, but held up a hand as if in defeat. ‘Gotcha, doll! Message received.’

Stepping back into her square, Beth looked at her watch. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning, and the heat was already making it feel as if someone was systematically pouring paint stripper across her shoulders. She could hear her students chatting happily as they worked. All except for Ryan, who was unusually quiet.

Beth sighed as she recalled Harrison’s glare towards Ryan, and realised it wasn’t just her rationale she’d left in the colder climate of home, but her common sense as well. It was time to come clean about how Ryan had messed up the mosaic and, more importantly, why she hadn’t reported the incident straight away.

Her decision made, Beth’s hands returned to working the ground, while her imagination speculated how it might have felt if Harrison had been the one she’d accidently sat on. Would I have wanted to get up quite so quickly? Her pussy twitched as if in confirmation, as her green eyes studied the Roman drain …

Digging Deep is available as a download or a paperback from all good retailers, including-

Amazon US link- http://www.amazon.com/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654446&sr=8-1&keywords=digging+deep+kay+jaybee

Amazon UK link- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654789&sr=8-1

Happy reading!!

Kay xx

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Collared With Kd Grace!

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December 10  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

Today I’m giving a shameless shout out to The Collared Collection; a boxed set I share with my lovely friend, Kd Grace.

collared-bundleThe Collared Collection Blurb:

The Collared Collection is a two novel boxed set from the pens of multi-award winning erotica writers, K D Grace and Kay Jaybee.

In the Voyeur by Kay Jaybee, wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of 13 fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite BDSM club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff – his personal assistant, Anya Grant, and his housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy, Fantasy 13, can take place. But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does Bridge’s gentleman’s club, Anya’s previous employer and a place she was delighted to escape from, have over Mark?

In order to find out, the girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they had left behind them all over again.

In The Pet Shop by K D Grace, in appreciation for a job well done, Stella James’s boss sends her a pet, a human pet. The mischievous Tino comes straight from The Pet Shop complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, it’s extremely addicting. Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

Available from Amazon (universal link)http://mybook.to/collaredcollection 

***

The Voyeur is cover to cover, cheek to cheek with Kd’s novel, The Pet Shop. Both of us agree that while these two novels are among our favourite erotic efforts, they don’t exactly fit in anywhere else, and yet, together side by side, the do quite nicely. This week, I’m very happy to share with you a delicious excerpt from Kd’s ‘The Pet Shop’….Enjoy!

lead

Here’s an extract from Kd’s fabulous- The Pet Shop to whet the appetite…

Pets don’t like to eat alone. They prefer to sit on the floor by the table next to their keeper’s chair, where they enjoy being hand-fed. If this is not possible, place food in a bowl next to the water dish. Make sure meat is always cut into bite-sized chunks.

Note: The former is preferable, as most Pets and Pet keepers find sharing a meal in this fashion very enjoyable and a part of their bonding experience.

The manual was right. Once she got the hang of offering Tino choice morsels in her open hand, the laving of his velvety wet tongue, the slight nipping of teeth and curling of lips was lovely. He sat on his haunches, once again fully erect, resting his head on her naked thigh in between bites. If she hadn‟t been ravenous, she would have never been able to concentrate on eating. He was as happy to nibble the mushrooms and tomatoes as he was the bacon and eggs. The toast with honey forced him to lick the sweet stickiness off the tips of her fingers, even occasionally off her thigh when her efforts were clumsy with the excitement of having such an exquisite creature eating from her hand.

She‟d had a similar sense of excitement the first time a horse had taken a sugar lump from her hand. That something so powerful, something potentially wild and dangerous had allowed itself to be fed by her was an exhilarating experience. At present, the magnificent beast on the floor insinuated himself a little closer to her with each bite, and she was pretty sure this wild animal had more than food in mind.

Tino scooted and wriggled himself until, at last, he sat between her legs, his humid breath warming her mons.

With each morsel of food, he insinuated his waiting face a little closer to her pussy until her open palm with its offered tidbit was practically resting against her pubis. When a particularly sticky morsel of toast ended up on the chair between her legs, he carefully licked up every bit from the chair, and then he continued lapping his way right on up between her legs.

She caught her breath with a little whimper and a jerk. The bite of toast she was about to offer slipped from her hand onto her belly. Tino wasn‟t bothered. He simply squeezed in between the table and her body, forcing her chair back just enough that he could nibble and lick the toast and honey from her tightening abdominal muscles. That done, he picked up where he‟d left off, nibbling and licking between her pouting labia.

Fascinated and aroused by his eating habits, she grabbed a handful of egg and wiped it across her breasts and down her stomach, licking the remains from her fingers, feeling a bit animal herself. He raised his head again and worked his way up her belly nibbling scrambled eggs as he went, pushing her chair back farther and farther from the table.

She gave up on any semblance of proper table etiquette and slid onto the floor next to him. She grabbed the plate from the table on her way down, shoving a handful of egg into her own mouth before smearing more egg and a bit of tomato across her breasts and belly. Lying back she let Tino nibble and lap his breakfast off her body until she was writhing and grinding on the floor beneath his enthusiastic tongue.

He surprised her by taking a rasher of bacon from the plate and offering it to her, mouth to mouth. It was almost like a porn version of Lady and the Tramp as they gnawed and nibbled their way to each other’s mouth, tongues lapping and lips smacking the salty savoury taste of the meat.

She plucked a nice plump mushroom from the plate. It reminded her of the tip of a cock as she eased it between her slippery folds far enough that Tino had to work to get it out.

But Tino didn’t mind working for his breakfast. And by the time he had extricated the mushroom, she was completely convinced his tongue was prehensile. His face glistening with her juices, the mushroom pressed daintily between his lips, he slid up her sticky body and offered her the morsel with its unique sauce of their lovemaking. Together they gulped down the tangy fungus between gasps for breath, breath which seemed to be harder and harder to get as their meal continued….

Collecting Xcite's ETO award with Kd Grace in 2014

Collecting Xcite’s ETO award with Kd Grace in 2014

 ***

Happy reading everyone!!

Kay xx

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The Inspiration for The Voyeur

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October 14  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

The idea for my BDSM erotic romance novel, The Voyeur, saw its first glimmer of light back in 2007, when I wrote a two part story called Fantasy 13, for the excellent , now sadly extinct, erotica web site Oysters and Chocolate. These full-on BDSM parallel adventures, both set in the ‘Discreet’ S&M club, were subtitled Clara’s Story and Anna’s Story (now Anya)- and now form the backbone of Chapters One and Two of The Voyeur.

voyeur-new-cover-2013

As anyone who has read my work will know, I love writing BDSM stories, and for some time prior to penning the mini- series Fantasy 13, I’d toyed with the idea of setting a piece within a specialist club, which I’d decided to paradoxically entitle, Discreet. The only thing holding me back was that I was at a loss for an original story angle.

About the same time, I was sat in a café (as ever!), covertly people watching. A woman about my age was frantically scribbling down a list. I assumed it was a shopping list; but then I began to wonder- what if it wasn’t? What if it was something more interesting? Maybe it was a list of all the things she wished her husband, lover or girlfriend would do to, or with, her?

There was no stopping my imagination once I’d had that thought. Within the hour I had created Mark, a businessman who kept a secret notebook in which to compile all his darkest desires.  He doesn’t necessarily want to take part in any of these fantasies- he just wants to see them take place in front of him.  The ultimate voyeur!

So, you could say that The Voyeur was originally a mixture of ideas gleaned from my long standing desire to write a story set in a sex club, and observing a woman jot down a shopping list in a café!

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***

Extract from The Voyeur

His evening meal complete, Mark sat back, contentedly sipping his cup of strong black coffee. Pulling a small, battered notebook from his pocket, he read thoughtfully for a moment. His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out. It was time for them to progress to the end of the list. Pressing the intercom button, Mark summoned his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room.

The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions.

‘I have decided that we will take a trip to Discreet this evening. We will turn our attention to the next fantasy on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes deliberately weighed up the reaction of his staff as he delivered his news.

Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of his time in his London flat, rather than in his mini-mansion in Oxfordshire, where his software business was based. It was only at Discreet, the most exclusive of the city’s BDSM clubs, that his increasingly imaginative fantasies could be publically appreciated; most of which involved the observation of other people’s erotic aspirations. Mark Parker was the ultimate voyeur.

Trying hard not to exchange glances with her colleague, Anya could sense the stiffening of Clara’s body as they listened to their boss. She knew that Clara’s mind, like her own, would already be racing; madly trying to guess what Mark’s latest erotic scenario would involve. Having survived fantasies one to eleven, they already understood the nature of the challenges they were likely to experience during the evening that loomed ominously ahead.

‘Anya, you will be less delighted than Clara, perhaps, when I tell you that this trip is intended as a lesson for you; possibly a punishment.’

Forgetting herself for a second, the PA lifted her head and stared Mark squarely in the face.

His lips smiled; his eyes, however, did not. ‘You wonder why? Why, when you are forever questioning my instructions?’

‘But Mark, I …’ Anya stopped talking, aware that by asking why she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her white shirt, as her employer continued to stare at her.

‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was velvety soft, yet the potential danger of disagreeing with him shone in his eyes. ‘But I know that you constantly query my actions by your reaction to them. Subconscious or not, it has to stop.’

Anya couldn’t believe it; she had always been so dutiful. The perfect assistant. The willing slave. How could Mark know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than “ordinary” existence?

Clara was hovering uncomfortably next to Anya as Mark came closer. ‘Tonight,’ he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, ‘you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task from our list, girls?’

They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten his questions were rhetorical.

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Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write “Fantasy 1”, “Fantasy 2” and so on, all the way down – the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words “Fantasy 13”. The first 11 rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.

‘Only two more tasks to go.’

This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other, exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.

Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.

Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be both more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it. They also longed for it. Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs closer and closer to his own. Making them as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied Mark on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.

A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. ‘You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.’ Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.

As she considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, Anya privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 might not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than she’d survived before. She could handle this. They both could – no problem.

Then Anya saw her outfit.

Her bed supported nothing but a leather dog collar…

***

You can buy The Voyeur in paperback or as a download from all good retailers, including-

Amazon UK- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Voyeur-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908917873/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355920127&sr=1-1

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/The-Voyeur-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908917873/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365506289&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Voyeur+kay+jaybee

You can also buy The Voyeur as part of The Collard Collection, which also includes Kd Grace’s brilliant novel, The Pet Shop.

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Buy links – http://mybook.to/collaredcollection 

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

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Being around for ages…

Comments Off on Being around for ages…
August 16  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

In only one months time I will have been indulging in this writing lark for 12 years. I never dreamt I’d be around so long!

There are many advantages of being considered one of the “old school” – something that happens more and more these days, and seems to have a lot to do with the fact I was a pre- Fifty Shades erotica pedlar.

Unreasonable expectaions

For me, it’s a more relaxing affair writing erotica these days. It hit me the other day that my old manic need to have a new publication out every five minutes has gone. I suppose the need to prove myself has passed – although I am yet to reach the stage where I think what I write is any good! I never think that- and I can’t imagine that I ever will.

I’ve also got used to being asked for all sorts of advice, from how to write, how to get published, and how to sell books once all the ‘hard’ work is done. It only seems a minute ago that I was the one too scared to ask for help- now I’m running erotica writing workshops! Only two weeks ago I was sat in the lovely Octavo Wine Bar and Bookshop near Cardiff Bay teaching the finer points of sexing up the ordinary within erotica.

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It was tremendous fun, and I feel incredibly privileged to be able to chat to aspiring writers. Of course, it is also reassuring to know that erotica still has talented writers interested in joining its ranks – heartening after the past few years of poor quality material by half-heartened writers flooding the e-market in the hope of making a quick few quid.

I chose to think it’s experience that has brought me this privilege rather than age!!

Having said that I’m more relaxed about this erotica lark these days, I should say that doesn’t mean I don’t get extremely over excited when I get a story accepted. When nice things happen I still feel the same sense adrenalin rush as I did when my first story was taken all those years ago.

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This week for example, when the latest ETO Magazine came out, I discovered that my BDSM romantic trilogy, The Perfect Submissive Trilogy,  is currently Xcite Books best selling book! And for that matter, The Voyeur (my darker BDSM threesome novel) is at number 10 in the chart!! The smile on my face when I saw that was wide indeed.

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With more writing workshops lined up (Kd Grace and I will be teaching at Sh! Hoxton in September- details soon), a new book almost written, and new sex toys waiting to be tested (I get gifts sent to me all the time in the hope I’ll review them- now that is a perk of being an ‘established name’), my life in erotica continues a pace…and I still love every second of it.

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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