Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

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Tasty Taster: A Kink A Day Book One

The time for some erotic reading indulgence has arrived.

This week, I’m easing you into the weekend with an extract from my sexy anthology, 

A Kink a Day- Book One

Blurb:

From the spank of a belt, to the unorthodox use of a dictionary; the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, to the afterhours indulgences of the staff recreating life in a strictly-run Victorian manor, A Kink a Day Book One provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week—with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.

***

Extract from Through the Gap

I caught my breath as Sally ran through the master bedroom’s door and, without taking time to explain, bundled me away from making the bed, into the dressing room cupboard and slammed the door. I stumbled back amongst the hat boxes and glove racks that filled the small, musty space. Scrambling to my feet, I pushed an eye up to the crack between the ill-fitting double doors, just in time to see both the housekeeper and the Master of the house follow Sally into the room.

There had been rumours, of course. The other members of staff frequently whispered amongst themselves of debauchery and submission, without realising they were being overheard. Six months of working in this house, of being neither seen nor heard as I discharged my duties, had made me an expert at overhearing things, and yet I had discovered nothing concrete to substantiate such gossip.
I suppose I have a rather strange job; it’s a bit like being an actor and a bit like being a domestic, but mostly I’m part of a complex tourist attraction. Each day, my colleagues and I dress in Victorian costume and work our way around a period manor house.

As a chamber maid, my place is in the bedrooms. I dart between all 25 chambers, making and unmaking beds which are never slept in, stoking naked fireplaces, dusting, sweeping and generally doing all those domestic chores associated with Victorian maids. I’m allowed to answer questions from the tourists, but otherwise I have to keep myself to myself, lower my eyes when my betters pass by, and try and remain invisible in their presence. I had dismissed the rumours of sexual deviancy as the product of boredom from some of our senior staff members’ lurid imaginations; fantasies concocted to liven up a slow tourism day. Until now.

Mrs Lawson grabbed Sally’s wrist and pulled her towards the Master. His face was solemn, and a stern furrow appeared on his brow as he peered into the eyes of the scullery maid. ‘Mrs Lawson informs me that you’ve been found wandering about above stairs again, young lady. That is not your place, is it?’
‘No, sir.’ Sally’s voice had taken on a meekness that was so convincing I wondered if it was genuine. I tried to quieten my breathing so I could hear what they were saying.

‘You know the punishment, don’t you?’

Sally nodded at the Master again and I watched as, on a signal from Mrs Lawson, Sally undid her apron and took off her cap and shoes. The housekeeper then leant forward and yanked off my colleague’s black working dress, so that she stood shivering in some far-from-Victorian underwear.

Mrs Lawson’s eyebrows rose. ‘And what exactly are those, young lady?’ her voice was harsh, but the high points of colour that had appeared on her face showed how much she was enjoying the situation as she observed Sally in her black stockings, matching bra and knickers.

Sally said nothing, but hung her head in humble submission, as the Master of the house placed a large hand on the back of her neck, gripping it firmly.
‘You have the collar, Mrs Lawson?’

‘Indeed, sir,’ the housekeeper produced a short black leather collar from her capacious apron pocket, and swiftly secured it around the maid’s pale neck. Then, rummaging further, she pulled out a thin lead and clipped it to the small silver loop that was positioned at the front of the collar.

My throat felt as if it had dried closed; I could hardly swallow as I watched, afraid of being discovered, but at the same time wishing the gap I was peering through was bigger, so I could see more.

I was unable to hear what the Master was saying now; he’d lowered his voice, almost to a whisper as he pulled on the lead which hung between her breasts. Then, in one swift, brutal movement, he grabbed the front of her bra and pulled it off, snapping the strap beyond repair. Her tits spilled out, revealing themselves to be even bigger than they’d first appeared. I moistened my lips. I could almost taste them and, enviously, I watched as the Master, yanking on the lead, bought Sally closer to him, before bowing down and engulfing a hard, nut brown nipple between his lips.

Sally had been a friend ever since I’d joined the house’s workforce, and unbeknownst to her, I’d had a massive crush on her from the first time I’d admired her in her pristine white apron and mop cap. To see her receive another’s erotic attentions was agony to my jealous body. I pressed my eye harder to the crack and strained my ears so I could hear the muted mewls my eyes told me were emanating from her lipstick-free mouth.

Mrs Lawson, who’d been watching the scene before her with obvious satisfaction, stepped forward and, once she had received approval from her superior, bent to Sally’s other breast. I could imagine so well how wonderful that would feel, the tingling attention, the sharp tang of want that each nip, each kiss, would send hurtling between her legs as both tits were stimulated at once.

I was aware of my own growing arousal. It had been simmering at the back of my mind ever since Sally had thrown me into the cupboard. Now it was controlling me, and I couldn’t help wondering if my friend had engineered things so I could observe her. A second’s panic shot through me, and I pulled away from the door. What if Sally told them I was here? What would they do to me if they found me? Then I sort of hoped they would find me. My breasts chaffed against my bra and stiffly starched uniform, as I wondered how I’d cope in Sally’s position.

My fantasy was cut short by a sharp scream, and I was drawn back to the real life drama in the adjoining room. The maid’s knickers had, in my few second’s lapse of concentration, been removed, and she was now on all fours. Mrs Lawson held a short white cane, which she had presumably kept in her apron pocket, and was rhythmically tanning Sally’s backside as the Master pulled the lead, making the girl walk after him like an obedient bitch on heat.

I was able to view them from every angle, as they moved in circles around the room, Sally yelping as the cane struck her neat backside. Our Master’s eyes blazed, his dick bulging beneath his suit trousers, while the housekeeper revelled in her administration of pain.

Without registering what I was doing, I slipped off my apron and slid a hand into my knickers as I watched. My juices stuck to my fingertips as I imagined Sally’s liquid dripping from her damp pussy. For despite her calls of anguish, the maid’s face glowed with desire, and there was no doubt in my mind that this scenario had been played out, and enjoyed, many times before….

If you want to find out what happened next you can buy A Kink a Day One from:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

***

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

 

 

 

 

Blinked: A free erotic read for Halloween

As it’s Halloween, I thought I’d treat you to a seasonal free read.

Vampires anyone?

Enjoy!!

Blinked

(copyright Kay Jaybee)

Human minds are so unimaginative, so closed. There’s usually a soft blue glow surrounding them. Not this one.

The taste around him was sharper, it tingled against my skin, zesty with an edge of…what to call it? To say it felt sulphuric would suggest it was accompanied by an unpleasant odour, but that wasn’t the case. The aroma emanating from this human was irresistible, yet it was oddly metallic in its intensity, in its bitter tang, in its…

He turned and looked directly at me, cutting off my line of thought. I was startled by the piercing nature of his deep brown eyes, and began to wonder if he already knew, if he could tell what I was?

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled beneath my red ponytail. He really was something different. My green eyes narrowed, my heart-rate, always rapid, increased further, and I felt the familiar swell of my chest and a twitch at my crotch as I observed him watching me.

Mentally I admonished myself. There was no way he could possibly know.

The hum and buzz of the bar faded to a mere background annoyance. He should have come to me by now. Impatience rose in my throat. This was unsettlingly strange. My quarry usually comes to me as soon as my craving for them enters my psyche. It’s part of the power; an automatic response. I want them, so they want me; madly, insanely, and without a hint of uncertainty, for the desire was all. The desire IS all. Hunger, sex, success, power and control. Without them the blood I crave is simply a nice warm drink.

My senses constricted further, tuning out the other drinkers. Confusion edged uninvited into the corner of my brain. Conquest should be easy. Then the small part of me that remembered what it was like to be human, reminded me that sometimes the pursuit was as exciting as the capture. Yeah, right!

I went to him, my head held high, my pony tail swinging purposefully behind my back. His lack of instant obedience wasn’t my failure, it was his, and he would pay for such insolence.

Essential need had taken me over, and as my breasts pushed against the satin of my black bustler, and the thud behind my ribcage became louder, I stood only inches away from him. Then instinct took over, and I moved in for the kill. My eyes, blazing dangerous lust, met his without flinching, without wavering, without blinking.

He blinked. That was when I knew I’d won. That whatever strange game he thought he’d been playing, it was already over. He blinked, and I didn’t. He had a weakness I had long since cast off. Simple.

We didn’t speak. I just nodded and turned around, walking purposely towards the exit, my hips swaying, my tight leather mini-skirt revealing the tops of my stockings and the contours of my backside. I could already taste his drooling mouth as he picked up the bag that had sat at his feet, and followed me; finally my slave.

His mind had cleared of the haze that had first kept me away. All he thought now was of his need, the need to fuck. To fuck me.

I kept walking. I didn’t look back, I knew he was there. I could smell the chemically caustic edge of his presence, even if I couldn’t see him.

My flat, small and obsessively neat, was only a short walk from the bar. I unlocked the front door and pointed inside, watching as he followed the line of my finger with his eyes, before obeying the unspoken request and entering the dark hallway.

Locking the door behind me, I led him to the bedroom, and began to unbutton the studs that held my top together down my right hand side, enjoying the sight of his wide hungry eyes and his parted lips. Hell, he was virtually panting like a dog.

Dropping my bustler to the ground, I showed him I wore no underwear beneath, and that my tits were more than ready for his touch. He was clearly in need too. The bulge beneath his denims was all but breaking out on its own. I smiled, but did nothing about his growing discomfort, instead, I commanded him to remove his black t-shirt. My crotch gave a twitch of anticipation as he obeyed without question.

I admired the torso before me, the beautifully thick neck, its veins running blue, pulsing slightly just below the surface. I would visit that neck soon; linger over it, but not yet. I had learnt to be disciplined, that the wait for the kill was more fun than the moment itself. For once the second of victory came, it was soon over, and then the hunt would have to begin again.

Walking around my guest in a wide circle I nodded in approval. His head turned with me, his brown eyes never leaving my chest, his mouth watering. This was obedience.

Beneath his left shoulder blade there was a small tattoo. It was a black Celtic cross. I moved closer, and with a single blood red fingernail traced its outline. A sudden chill engulfed me, but that was all. I didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. I wasn’t reduced to a pile of ash upon the floor. Religious symbols versus the vampire. The vampires won that battle years ago. We are simply too strong to be beaten that easily.

I felt his flesh quiver beneath my touch, but to his credit he didn’t move, although his breathing did quicken, and the gleam in his eyes said more about his requirements than any words could have expressed.

The air between us began to change as his aura altered. The sulphuric tang was evaporating and red hot chemical desire had taken its place. Still not quite what I’d have expected from the average human, but this guy was so together, literary pulsating sex; he was everything I wanted.

From nowhere, I heard my mother’s shrill voice from centuries ago, telling me not to play with my food. A disobedient child to the last, I began to do just that, and ran my tongue up and down his back in long languid strokes. As I savoured the salty sweat against my taste buds, my self-control began to wane, and I felt the yearning for blood creep up my spine, heightening my senses further, clouding my eyes so that they are but a black focused fog, taking in nothing but my victim and the overriding longings of my body.

I tore off his remaining clothes with a speed that was beyond mortal, clawing them so they lay in mere shreds upon the floor.  At that moment his semi-hypnotised state broke, and with a hunger I would normally only associate with the un-dead, he returned my urgency with fervour. Peeling off my tight skirt and boots, a flick of his brown eyes showed brief pleasure at my lack of knickers, as I pushed him back onto the bed.

If he was surprised by my strength then he didn’t show it. His heavy masculine aroma, his lust, intoxicated me as I sat astride him, impaling myself to the hilt. Rocking back and forth, and sliding up and down in alternative motions, I revelled in the expression on his face. His eyes closed in concentration, as I snaked my right hand beneath us, and stuffed two sharp fingernails up his arse, making him yelp in surprise.

With my tits aching, desperately in need of his attention, I wordlessly dragged at his mind, commanding him to sit. He obeyed in seconds, and while my fingers were still inserted, he suckled and nipped at first one nipple and then the other. I cried out as he bit harder, the delicious agony turning from pinching discomfort to white hot pain, as I dug my free nails into his back. His free hand dived to my crotch, rubbing at my clit with an expertise that tipped me into climax before I’d given him permission to do so. A climax which sent my twitching muscles into spasms that massaged his cock into a spunking orgasm of its own.

My eyes and intellect clouded with both the power of my success, and a brief unexpected dizziness, before focusing again, as I pushed him back onto the bed for the second time. His neck was so exposed, his dark brown hair too short to provide it any protection. I sniffed at the skin, and licked it once more. Its scent was heady, and I could almost taste the rich blood, the warm sticky liquid running down my throat and around my chin and lips.

I shook my head sharply, trying to dispel the growing sensation of disorientation that suddenly swam in my head. I drew back, and plunged towards his neck.

He moved so fast. So very fast.

I was knocked to the floor, and must have blacked out, for suddenly his bag had been opened and I was spread eagled on my own bed, silenced by a gag as I tugged and tugged at the solid metal bar handcuffs that he’d attached to both my wrists and ankles, and the bed posts.

The spinning in my head subsided into anger. How had this happened?

I bit into the ball gag, tasting the rubber, retching at its stench. Yet there was another smell, one that should not have been there, and for a moment my brain refused to believe it was in the room with me. It was simply impossible.

He was looking at me. He was different. Not bigger as such, not taller, but broader and stronger. His hair was longer, sleeker. His eyes were darker and somehow more intense.

It had been decades since I’d felt fear, but here it was, and my tethered body wrenched and struggled harder as it engulfed me with a sheen of unaccustomed sweat.

‘I’d stop that if I were you.’ His voice sounded gravely with age, and although he looked about thirty, I realised he was older. Much much older. ‘You can’t and won’t escape. Stronger vampires than you have tried and failed.’

Stronger vampires? I attempted to calm down, to breathe deeper, to focus my hatred and strength for a moment, then I’d break free.

He looked amused as he continued to appraise my nakedness. A large hand reached out to tweak my right nipple, pulling it out until I gasped into my gag, causing droplets of dribble run down its sides.

‘Aren’t you going to ask who I am?’ He slapped my other breast, making me flinch against mattress, ‘Oh of course, you can’t can you, but I’m surprised you aren’t putting your questions directly into my head. Why not I wonder?’

I wondered to.  I was trying, but it was like hitting a brick wall.

He laughed again, his voice getting deeper with each fresh word as he kept up the slow torture, twisting my nipples as if they were screw caps that might eventually come lose. I started to struggle again, but with each move I seemed to get weaker, but my body, so honed to chase personal want, was continuing to desire him on despite myself.

His right hand left my chest, causing me to gulp into the rubber ball with loss, as he trailed it down my body, making sure he touched every inch of my flesh on the way south. I arched my back, trying to both escape, and make him go faster at the same time.

Perspiration dotted my forehead and neck, and suddenly I knew what this feeling was. This was how prey felt. This was panic. I stared up at him, trying to break through his eyes. Nothing. No aroma, No aura. There was nothing at all to work from to bring him back under my power- if he’d ever been under it in the first place.

His fingers had reached my naval, and he stopped. My arse raised itself of its own free will in an attempt to force his attentions lower, and I was aware that I was whimpering into the muzzle, but he just grunted. No, he snarled.

Everything in me tensed, and I knew. How had I not known before? What had he done to me?

I peered harder into his face. Then it happened. I blinked, and in that second I knew he’d won. My mind gave up, sagging in on itself, and yet still my treacherous body wanted more, and at last, as I lay exhausted and still, his paw of a hand went lower.

As fingers circled my clit, he spoke, ‘The drink you had before you targeted me. It had been doctored. The barman is a friend of mine. A slow working controlant. Nothing major, just enough for me to take advantage of the split second of disorientation between a vampires climax and the re-instatement of full cognitive manipulation. An effective weapon in the control of your species, I think you’ll agree.’

Frantically, I thought back to the bar, to the man who’s served my drinks. I remembered nothing.

‘I’ve been watching your activities for sometime. Not the strongest of your breed, but you have an incredible record of taking people knocked out by your flirty eyes and killer body.  A body,’ he broke off and pressed a palm against my mound, forcing a gush sticky juice to escape from my pussy, ‘that has been the death of many men and women.’

I could feel my stomach knotting and churning as a second orgasm began to build with frightening pace.

‘I was impressed. You didn’t even flinch at my cross tattoo. Amazing isn’t it, how those stupid humans still believe a religious symbol or a clove of garlic will still kill off a vampire, and how they believe that silver will weaken a werewolf.’

He bent down to his bag and produced the longest, thickest dildo I have ever seen. It was solid silver. My eyes widened in horror as I realised he was going to make me accommodate it. He stood between my outstretched legs, holding the toy so I could see it clearly, and take in every intimidating inch of its length and width. Then, just as I had began to tell myself that he was simply enjoying threatening me, and that he’d never actually use it, he pushed its tip to the edge of my pussy.

The shock of the cold smooth metal against my burning skin was swiftly diminished by the stretching of my pussy walls, as without mercy, without giving me time to adjust to its two inch width, he rammed the phallus between my legs causing my muscles to cramp. I knew I was making it worse for myself by not relaxing my abdomen, but the tool was so heavy, so wide, that my mind refused to stop telling me just how full I was, and a weighty feeling of helplessness, pain and lingering want in the rest of my body ripped my last vestiges of my pride and concentration into a million pieces.

Once totally inserted, with a cunning that would have made Machiavelli proud, the werewolf began to twist the dildo round in a slow circle, widening my channel until tears streaked my cheeks and the dribble that had gathered at the corners of my gag ran in rivers of drool.

‘I think you are ready now.’

Ready for what?  No sooner had I had the thought, than he slapped his palm against my pussy, jamming the dildo up further, making me scream into my gag, as he bent to squeeze my right teat, and simultaneously began to jerk the dildo in and out at speed.

My body jacked, straining and pulling against my restraints, as I came in a third wave of uncontrollable lust, that sent such blinding colours through my head that I passed out.

When I came round I was no longer at home, but was sat on a hard wooden chair in an unfamiliar room.  My eyes took a while to adjust to the subdued light, and it was a minute or two before I realised that my mouth was free. I exercised my jaw muscles briefly, before trying to run. I failed. My legs were free, but my wrists remained bound, although this time they were fastened before my naked body with a strong metal chain, which was then looped through a ring that was attached to the wall.

Instantly, I yanked at the bindings, only to hear a cacophony of laughter.

‘I told you she was feisty.’ The werewolf wasn’t alone, three others stood behind him. He came forward. ‘I think it would be polite to introduce you, but first I will explain to you where you are.’ Taking another step towards me, he gestured his arms liberally around the room, ‘this is where I train my fellow werewolves to resist and overcome vermin such as yourself.’

I followed his gestures around the room, noticing for the first time that I was not the only one chained up. Two other vampires, one male, one female, both naked, were secured to rings further along the bare brick wall. Their eyes were wide, their bodies unashamedly yearning in my direction.

‘Here, we harden our fellow werewolves to the effects of silver, and teach them how to overcome the power of the vampire mind by using sex as a weapon, just like you do to the humans.’ He smiled, flashing his canines, which looked far more extant than I had previously seen them, ‘I think, like the two other assistants you see before you; you will learn to love your role here.’

I said nothing, but pulled at the chain with increased determination.

With infuriating patience, he waited until I sat still, his eyes shining with the thrill of control, ‘Let’s see how much you protest with a silver dick in your pussy, a woman’s mouth around your tits, and a man’s cock in-between those rose red lips shall we?  Think about it. Sex on tap, a constant supply of blood, and the fun of a continual battle for supremacy with two of your own kind, ask yourself, is this truly prison? Or have I bought you to vampire heaven?’

I thought about it.

He had a point.

I hope you enjoyed that. Happy Halloween.

Kay x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tasty Taster: The New Room

This week I’m offering a little ‘Tasty Taster’ from the novella length, finale to the Perfect Submissive series, The New Room

Blurb

A Perfect Submissive Series short story. (Following on from The Perfect Submissive Trilogy)

Resident submissive of the Fables Hotel’s adult entertainment floor, Miss Jess Sanders, 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 fifth floor’s new room.

Under the supervision of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, 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

Her instructions had been to go through the door, walk three paces forward, and then stand and wait inside the fifth floor’s latest facility.

Frost was already crusting over Jess’ shoulders, and the dampness of anticipation that gathered at her crotch prickled as it chilled against her surrounding’s winter-like caress. Her eyes stung with as she blinked into the stark brightness of the space, but as Jess’ hands had been secured behind her back, she couldn’t rub them better.

As the submissive looked about her, she saw that not only could the discerning paying guest at the hotel enjoy the delights of a pseudo-school room, a Victorian study, a dungeon, a medical bay, and the intimidating White Room; they could now experience icy arousal in a fairy-tale style snow grotto.

The ceiling and walls had been studded with crystals and draped with shimmering chiffon fabric that took away the room’s rectangular proportions, making the space feel cavernous. Tiny silver fairy-lights sparkled like glitter, while genuine ice granules clung to every surface, including the fake snow that made a distinct crunch beneath Jess’ strappy silver heels.

Having been stripped of all her clothes by a silent Mrs Peters, prior to being thrust across the new room’s threshold, Jess had been surprised that she’d been allowed her to keep her shoes on. Now she understood why. Only the heavy silver and green velvet robe that had been hung around her naked shoulders gave the submissive any level of protection against the all-invading cold. If she’d had to stand on bare feet in the room, even after all her endurance training, Jess wouldn’t have lasted for more than a few minutes before she had frost bitten soles and toes.

Surveying her surroundings more thoroughly, Jess was just contemplating how easy it would be to hide instruments of sexual play and deprivation between the fake cavern walls and the real walls, when she became aware of the sound of a faint hum…

The distinct brrring vibration of a refrigeration unit.

No wonder it felt so arctic; the room was literally a freezer.

A freezer that held nothing but two chairs, that sat in the very centre of the frost-crisped pseudo-cave.

One seat was more like a fairytale throne than a chair. Made of wrought iron and painted silver, its high back was decorated with intricate butterfly and flower shapes. Well padded with plush, silver satin cushions over the back and seat, Jess already knew it was far too comfortable to have been placed in the room for her use.

The chair to the throne’s right was stark by comparison. Wooden and straight backed; it had been painted plain white and held neither ornamentation nor cushions. That’s where I’ll have to sit, Jess thought, if I’m permitted to sit at all.

The crunch of snow being scraped behind her told Jess that someone had opened the door. She didn’t turn to see who it as. She knew better than that.

A pair of hands came to her shoulders, but the heavy fabric of her cloak prevented Jess from being able to tell whose grip it was. Mrs Peters had told her this was to be the first staff training session in this room; therefore the hands had to belong to a member of the Fables staff. The tone of the breathing behind her, combined with the size of the handhold, informed Jess the newcomer was male. That meant it had to be either Master Lee Philips, the barman and occasional helper on the fifth floor, or Mr Sam Wheeler, Mrs Peters’ personal slave, business partner, and professional artist.

The hands didn’t move from their position on Jess’s shoulders as the whirr of the generator was abruptly drowned out by the activation of some ethereal music from a speaker hidden between the folds of the fake ceiling. The haunting Celtic lyrics drifted into Jess’ ears, adding to the eerie atmosphere and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the unknown person stepped closer to her back.

With each fresh second that passed, Jess had the uneasy feeling that she’d walked into the throne room of the Snow Queen – a wicked Snow Queen.

The masculine hands moved slowly. The confidence of touch that Jess had come to recognise from the men on the Fables staff was missing. As the palms slid down her arms, ducking beneath her cloak, the visitor took each of the submissive’s tethered wrists in his hands, and briskly marched Jess forward.

The submissive’s mind raced. Who is this man?…

Buy from

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

“Fans of The Perfect Submissive series rejoice. This is the novella we’ve been longing for. I won’t spoil it but this story had me bouncing with glee. All of your favourite characters make an appearance and as you would expect, the scenes are intense and exciting. A big thumbs up and sexy striptease for this wonderful short story.” Goodreads 

Happy reading.

Kay xx

Tiny Taster: Knowing Her Place

This week, I’m sharing a ‘Tiny Taster’ from the third novel in my ‘The Perfect Submissive’ #trilogy – Knowing Her Place.

Blurb:

Full of unanswered questions after her erotic fairytale experience at The Retreat in Scotland, Jess Sanders is desperate to return to her submissive position at the exclusive Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire.

Having been thwarted in his plans to keep Jess, The Retreat’s owner, David Proctor, isn’t willing to let her go without sending the so-called ‘perfect’ submissive on one final mission. Only if Jess succeeds in the task he sets her, will Proctor remove the collar of servitude he has locked around her neck.

With a list of five unfamiliar addresses to hand, Jess is placed in a car and driven away from The Retreat towards England. With no idea of what, or who, awaits her at each location, all Jess can hope for is that the journey will eventually take her back to where she belongs.

To the fifth floor of the Fables Hotel, where Miss Jess Sanders truly knows her place.

***

Here’s a tiny taster from the very beginning of Chapter 1…

Miss Jess Sanders fingered the cream envelope she clutched between her fingers. The paper was damp, its previously crisp edges tattered and limp from where she’d been gripping it so tightly.

Her right hand came to her throat. Gingerly, Jess fingered the black leather collar that spanned her neck.

Every part of her ached.

Sitting in the rear of a very comfortable, chauffeur-driven BMW, Jess couldn’t even face glancing out of the window. The journey from the North East of Scotland to wherever it was she was being taken in England seemed to be taking forever.

Only a few hours earlier, Jess had been working at The Retreat, providing submissive services at a business launch party, where 150 delegates from the Fairtasia adult comic production company had explored every inch of her body. Reclining against the leather seat, she closed her eyes. She could still feel the imprint of each hand, tongue, breast and cock that had come her way. Her stomach churned with nerves, anger, fatigue, and her body’s treacherous and constant need for more sex.

Seven months ago, Jess had no idea she was a born submissive.

Six months ago, after becoming bored with a succession of temping jobs, she’d applied for the position of booking clerk at the Fables Hotel in Oxford, landed the post, and her life had changed beyond all recognition. From being a single girl, with a lacklustre sex life and no partner, Jess had become the resident submissive on Fables’ fifth floor. A place which, under the iron management of the very dominant Mrs Peters, provided a special service for adults who wished for their ultimate sexual fantasies to come true without fear of judgement, and in perfect safety.

Initially Jess had been horrified at how well, and how quickly, she’d adapted to this new subservient lifestyle. A lifestyle Mrs Peters had spotted she was suited to long before Jess herself had any idea. But just as she’d settled into her new life and work regime at the hotel, Jess had found herself uprooted.

One of Fables’ most demanding clients, Mr David Proctor, had persuaded Mrs Peters to lend him Jess, along with her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to help him and his manageress, Dr Ewen, set up his own Fables-style establishment in a remote part of Scotland – The Retreat.

Jess and Miss Sarah had been told they were being lent to Proctor to teach his staff the art of submissive behaviour. The reality of the situation, however, hadn’t been quite so straightforward…

Knowing Her Place follows on from The Fifth Floor and The Retreat.

Available from:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
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Happy reading,

Kay x

Tiny Taster: The Retreat

This weekend I thought I’d tempt you to a ‘Tiny Taster’ from The Retreat – the middle novel in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.

Continuing the story of Miss Jess Sanders journey through the world of the professional submissive, The Retreat takes her away from the life she has only just been getting used to…

Blurb-

Just as Jess is beginning to relax into her new life as a submissive at The Fables Hotel, her employer Mrs Peters announces that she is loaning both Jess, and her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to one of their most demanding clients; Mr David Proctor.

Whisked away by the mysterious Kane to The Retreat, hidden in a remote part of Scotland, Jess and Miss Sarah find themselves teaching another submissive to meet Proctor’s exacting rules.

As Jess comes to terms with the techniques of The Retreat Mistress, and the strictly overpowering dominatrix Lady Tia, she discovers that Proctor’s motives may not be all they seem.

Just who or what is Fairtasia? And why does Jess feel like she’s walked into a warped fairy tale?

In order to get back to The Fables, Jess is going to have to be more than just a perfect submissive…

Here’s a tiny taster from the beginning of The Retreat to whet your appetite…

…With his ego growing almost as much as his cock, as it pushed against the inside of his suit trousers, David crouched down beside the girl. Her bare buttocks bore the pleasing marks of his palm. The fading prints were pink now, but they’d blazed red only moments ago, as he’d held her across his lap, spanking her backside again and again in punishment for her repeated disobedience.

Her breasts, the perfect handful, were dotted with freckles, and as his mind considered all the things a willing slave could do for him, and he could do to her, he lifted her lowered head by the chin.

‘But you refuse to climax when I tell you to.’ David’s voice wasn’t angry, but it was hard. He was, and would always be the unyielding business man. If there was nothing in any arrangement for him, it wouldn’t happen.

‘I want to though Sir. I really want to, I just…I wait so long for permission, and then, I just can’t. I am so sorry, I…’

‘SShhhh.’ David stroked his hand through the wisps of her hair that had escaped her hooked up ponytail. She intrigued him.

The Retreat did need a new submissive, and quickly if his business plans were to expand in the direction he intended them to. The man Fairtasia was sending to represent them was due any day now, and not long after that their delegates would arrive.

‘Please Sir?’ Her blue eyes seemed impossibly wide as stayed still, her bare legs against the cold stone kitchen floor proving how good her stamina was, ‘Lady Tia could teach me.’

‘Training.’ David spoke the word slowly as if to himself, mulling each letter over in thought, but the young cook leapt upon the word.

‘Yes Sir! Dr Ewen says Lady Tia is the best dominatrix in her field.’

‘Umm. She is indeed, but…’ The Retreats new owner reached his uncallused hands to her tits, and felt a surge of satisfaction as the nipples pressed back persuasively against his skin, ‘I’m not sure Lady Tia’s field of expertise will be sufficient in this case. Spankings and beatings you can obviously already take.’

The girl lowered her face again. There was no doubt she was submissive material- and yet not quite. Her deference to him however, and his urgent need for a female submissive on his staff made David’s mind up for him.

‘I think it’s time I contacted a friend in England. I’m sure she’ll send us the help we need.’ Manipulating the cooks chest with greater pressure, enjoying pushing a gasp of pain tinged pleasure come from her lips, David’s round face gave a calculating smile…

If you’d like to read The Retreat, you can find it in e-format at all good retailers, including-

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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