Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

Category: BDSM Page 7 of 74

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

Tasty Taster: The Fifth Floor

This weekend, let’s go to the The Fifth Floor  (The Perfect Submissive #trilogy- Book One) and meet Miss Jess Sanders as she starts her adventure into the (so far unknown) world of the BDSM submissive…

Blurb

Hidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor. Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests. When she meets Jess Sanders, she 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 dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with an erotically demanding training schedule and a truly sexy exercise regime. But will she come to terms with her new career?

Meanwhile, Mrs Peters is temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fables’ fifth floor by artist, Sam Wheeler – who she believes can help her in her mission to transform Jess into the perfect submissive…

Here’s a tasty taster…

…Jess was sat at her desk, a half eaten sandwich in one hand; the fingers of her other hand dancing over the computer keyboard. Laura watched her through the office window for a few moments before confidently stepping into the room, interrupting the clerk without hesitation. ‘Mr Davies informs me he has not yet had time to complete your preliminary tour of the hotel.’

Understanding precisely where the manageress intended to take her, Jess spoke carefully, ‘I’ve seen most of it, but not all.’

Without confirming the clerk’s suspicions, Laura said, ‘I have a few moments, so if you’d like to walk this way I’ll complete that area of your training.’ She pointed towards the office door, ‘You are bound to be asked for directions around the place by our guests and it doesn’t look very professional if a member of staff gets lost herself, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I would, Mrs Peters.’

Although she’d now worked at the Fables for just over a week, Jess still hadn’t looked her boss in the eye once, a fact that sent a buzz of conviction through Mrs Peters; her initial instincts about the girl had been correct.

‘Are you happy here so far, Miss Sanders?’

‘Yes, Mrs Peters. Thank you.’ Jess muttered her response, almost managing to glance directly at her superior, but falling short at her shoulders. Laura’s heartbeat increased in response to the girl’s natural deference. Jess Sanders was just so perfect for what she had in mind.

As they walked towards the staff lift Laura attempted to improve the flow of conversation, ‘And I don’t think you have yet been introduced to all the other members of staff?’

‘Not yet, no.’ Again Jess spoke cautiously, and Laura knew from the expression on her face that she was both fearful and curious about meeting anyone who kept their business arrangements entirely to the Fables upper storey.

‘We are one member of staff down at the moment; one of my assistants has left us for pastures new. I’m searching for a replacement. Master Lee Philips, who works in the bar downstairs, helps me out as and when required, but it’s not an ideal arrangement. He has many other duties, and besides, the fifth floor guests frequently prefer the female touch.’

Following the clerk into the lift it was obvious that no small talk was going to come from her, so Laura calmly kept up her commentary. ‘My associate, Miss Sarah, should be on the premises by 10.00 each morning, unless she has had a complete night session, in which case she is not expected until 2.00 p.m. As I’ve said, Master Philips comes and goes, depending on our requirements and his bar and reception work. Miss Sarah has her first session of the day in a few moments, if we are lucky we should just catch the show.’

Visibly shrinking back, Jess noticed how Mrs Peters walked a little taller now they’d reached her domain. Her face was more set, her back straighter, and somehow she appeared even more intimidating than before. Pushing her hands into the deep pockets of her clinging knee-length black skirt, Jess hid the growing sheen of perspiration on her palms, while trying to ignore the fearful beat of her pulse.

Crossing the threshold of the room, into which she was being firmly steered by the elbow, felt like entering another world to Jess, or rather, another time. Manoeuvred towards a plush red velvet chaise longue, her eyes darting here and there, the clerk was pointedly sat down.

Trying to ignore the light but persistent pressure of Mrs Peters cool hand against her wrist, Jess took in the reproduction William Morris wallpaper, the heavy dark-wood chest of drawers, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, and the faded brown leather wing-backed armchair. Centre stage, only a few metres from where they sat, was a huge writing desk. Its top was inlaid with a square of leather, a portion of which was covered with blotting paper, an accompanying ink well, pots of ink, and nibbed pens.

Jess was reminded of a museum she’d once visited as a child, where rooms from a variety of different houses had been re-created from a number of historical periods. This room had Victorian study written all over it.

The silence was beginning to get to her as she waited, perched rather than sat, on the unyielding seat. A faint voice of hope at the back of her head kept telling her that all this had to be some sort of practical joke, but one glance at Mrs Peters made Jess reconsider. Her eyes kept drifting towards the study door. Whatever she had been brought here to witness surely couldn’t begin until someone came in. Twenty seconds later, each one ticked off by the hammer of Jess’s heart beating, the door swung back with a confident push.

‘Ah, Miss Sarah,’ Laura rose from her seat, a stern glare at Jess telling her not to move. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Fables has a new member of staff, and I thought it would be a good idea to let her observe one of our sessions.’

Miss Sarah, her face powdered to an ultra-pale complexion, her curling hair pinned up in the style of a Victorian lady, her exquisite outfit historically accurate down to the small white buttons that fastened her stylish black boots, curtsied at once to her superior, ‘Of course, Mrs Peters.’

The stunningly slim woman glanced briefly at Jess, her grey gaze only lingering long enough to acknowledge the stranger, without taking in what she looked like or who she might be. Miss Sarah’s indifference, dismissing the office clerk as an unimportant factor in the room, made Jess feel smaller and more anxious than ever.

The agonising lull continued and Jess’s imagination began to run riot as Miss Sarah sat at the desk in preparation for her client’s arrival. Images of pock-skinned overweight men, panting loudly as they fucked the employees of the fifth floor against the furniture made Jess’s stomach churn, but there was no way out. With a quiet determination that Mrs Peters would have been surprised to know Jess possessed, she thought, if the other members of staff here have survived this part of the tour, then so can I.

As Mrs Peters returned to both the chaise lounge and her application of gentle restraint against the clerk’s arm, Jess’s body stiffened. Someone was knocking on the door. Not daring to face her employer, Jess focused on the figure that, after being granted permission to enter, walked meekly into the study.

If he hadn’t had his neck bent, his face to the floor with respect for Miss Sarah, who greeted him with a sharp ‘Good Morning’, Jess judged he would have been quite tall. And he was young; not the sweaty, aged bank manager Jess had conjured up in her head, but a man in his late 20s or early 30s, with a shaven face, short spiked ginger hair, and well built limbs. He was dressed as a servant, perhaps a stable hand. Jess was automatically reminded of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Gulping against her dehydrated throat, unwilling to see the sex that she was sure was about to follow, the clerk dropped her eyes, only to have her chin roughly jerked upwards by Mrs Peters, ‘No, child. You will observe. You will learn.’

A patina of panic gripped Jess. Every hair on the back of her neck stood to attention. Until that moment it had been unreal. She hadn’t let go of the hope that at any minute someone was going to turn around and say, ‘OK, Jess, it’s just a joke. We play it on all the new girls. Let’s grab a coffee.’ No one did though. No one was saying anything…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
Apple Books UK
Apple Books US
Kobo
Smashwords

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xxxx

 

Tasty Taster: Not Her Type

It’s time to enjoy a ‘Tasty Taster’ from my hot delivery man novella,

Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures of a Delivery Man

(copyright- Kay Jaybee and 1001NightsPress)Not Her Type

Tuesday – It Begins

What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.

A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.

Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever.

As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.

 

“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.”

Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him.

His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jenny’s pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.

Her head buzzed, and her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down but, at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.

Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. “I want to see you on your hands and knees,” he ordered.

Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse…

***

If you want to know what happens next (and I can promise you one hell of a kinky ride), you can buy Not Her Type in either eBook or paperback form from….

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

1001 NightsPress- http://1001nightspress.com/#!/page_KayJaybee

Happy reading!!

Kay

Tasty Taster: Making Him Wait

It’s time to let the mind escape into a touch of erotic fantasy with some bi-sexual shenanigans 

This week I’m sharing a Tasty Taster from Making Him Wait

Here’s a Tasty Taster…

…Ignoring the buzz of her mobile phone, Maddie placed the worn stub of charcoal to the side of her easel and took a step back from the girl before her.

Maddie nodded with approval as her newest model – a petite blonde – flexed the muscles she’d been keeping stock still for the previous half hour.

“Control, Freya – at least the appearance of control – is everything.” The artist reached out an affectionate hand to her muse.

Freya rocked a little on her bare feet as Maddie touched her lightly freckled cheek. “No need to look so worried, honey. You are doing brilliantly. It’s a difficult pose to hold for so long.”

“Thank you.” Blushing an endearing shade of pink, Freya lowered the hands she’d nervously clenched before her, giving her employer another chance to see the neat triangle of her semi-shaved pussy.

Maddie, her jeans and t-shirt smeared and spattered with all the mediums of her trade, did not feel the need to mention to Freya that her own knickers were sodden, nor that beneath her holster bra, her nipples were rock hard.

A further buzz from her mobile alerted Maddie to the arrival of another text message. In fact a steady string of muffled noises from her mobile, coming from the pit of her handbag, had been announcing the arrival of texts every ten minutes or so throughout the morning.

Smiling to herself, Maddie continued to disregard her phone and considered the exquisite outline of her companion’s porcelain frame. Most people came to Maddie to be drawn or painted, sometimes as a commission for a lover, husband or wife. Some, however, like Freya, came to the studio as a way of improving their self-confidence. Despite her generally shy demeanour, Freya had proved to be very good at posing as Maddie required and the artist had offered her an occasional job as a life model.

Sometimes Maddie felt she was more therapist than artist – specifically a sex therapist – as men and women alike shared their most intimate secrets while standing on the other side of her easel. Maddie’s studio certainly had the air of an erotic fantasy confessional about it. She wasn’t complaining, however. No other life would do for her now. The job satisfaction Maddie achieved from listening to the dreams and fantasies of others while she recreated them onto canvas, went hand in glove with the personal physical gratification it gave her.

Money being either plentiful or non-existent, depending on the current success of her commissions and sales, Maddie had been forced to develop an alternative form of payment for her models – a reward system for good work. Maddie could tell from the rise and fall of Freya’s chest and the glistening damp skin at the top of her thighs, that she was more than ready to be paid for today’s session…

You can buy Making Him Wait from…

Amazon UK:  Making Him Wait: An Erotic Novel: Amazon.co.uk: Jaybee, Kay: 9798708347695: Books

Amazon US: Making Him Wait: An Erotic Novel – Kindle edition by Jaybee, Kay. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Smashwords: Making Him Wait (smashwords.com)

Happy reading!

Kay xx

Restrained

Restrained

#ad #restraint #erotica #exploration #Lovehoney #kinkyplay #sextoys #fun

One of the joys of writing erotica, is exploring – via my characters – the limits of sexual pleasure to which I can send each of my fictional individuals.

Over the years I have created my own voyeuristic window into an erotic world of fantasy and pleasure. To create the #bdsm, #sub #dom stories I’m best known for, I’ve largely relied on my imagination, but every now and then – as with any work of fiction – research is required.

This research has come in many forms over the years – talking to others about their experiences – reading up on the subject of domination and submission – and, of course, turning to the fabulous world of sex toys – in particular, toys that deal with restraint, such as leg spreader bars.

When it comes to writing erotica that centres around the submissive/dominant dynamic, I have always been fascinated with the concept of voluntary capture. There is something intrinsically sexy about one human being having so much trust and confidence in another, that they will allow themselves to be bound, making their ability to move limited, or immobilising them completely.

Consensual bondage can bring intense sexual pleasure. For the submissive within the erotic play, there is the anticipation and adrenalin rush from not having control – from not knowing what their partner will do next – of wondering how they will treat them on the road to climax.

For the person in control, there is the high of deciding how to pleasure their willing partner, of both hearing and seeing them succumb to desire, while the act of pleasing their submissive will, in turn, afford them a rush of sexual satisfaction. In a world when we are constantly having to make decisions, it is a heady/addictive feeling to have all responsibility taken away from us in a restrained/submissive capacity. It opens our minds and focuses our whole bodies on the pursuit of pleasure – each touch, each sound, each anticipation of what might happen next.

It is for this reason – the combination of trust and the pushing of a person’s sexual limits – that I like to write stories centring around restraint. Whether in a long-term loving relationship, or within a situation where the premise of the story is for one character to push the limits of another who (willingly) wishes to see how far they can go, the use of restraints – whether it’s ropes, cuffs or even a spreader – the results are always plot spinning. And what’s more – they are plotlines that my readers can safely replicate, and enjoy, at home with just a few careful purchases.

Photograph courtesy of Lovehoney

As I said above, when researching for such moments of fiction, I use sex toys and equipment to help me. When writing a recent story (yet to be published), featuring the use of a leg spreader bar, I turned to Lovehoney for help. Prior to including the use of a spreader in the tale, I wanted to make sure I had the feel of the thing correct – to know how to use one – how heavy they are, and – of course – what it feels like to wear.

***

The story I’m writing is very much a work in progress – here’s a little extract for you…

Spread (A work in progress by Kay Jaybee)

Max lifted the leather-bound diary from the desk. Making sure he could see her eyes; he flicked through the pages until he found the entry from the night before.

Tuesday 2nd May.’

A soft muffled groan came from the woman seated on the chair before him.

‘What was that Sub? A happy memory or just sheer frustration at your situation?’

Leaning forward, Max adjusted the silk knickers that he’d wedged between her lips only two minutes before.

‘Don’t you worry. If you’ve been a good girl and written nice things about the lovely surprise I gave you last night, then you’ll get to play with it again. If not – well, you’ll get to watch me play with it with one of our friends. You’d like that wouldn’t you?’

This time the sound from the gag was halfway between a purr and a pleading mewl.

‘Despair or desire? I never know which emotion you wish to portray when you’re so beautifully arranged.’ Max kissed her forehead. ‘I don’t think you know yourself sometimes, little Sub.

‘So, where was I? Ah yes, last night. Let’s read what you had to say for yourself.’

Sitting on his usual wing-back armchair, Max stretched his legs out towards her, his feet almost, but not quite meeting hers as she sat, naked, on a small round cushion on a metal kitchen chair. Her hands were secured to its arms with bondage cuffs, while her ankles were secured to each of its front legs with two of her master’s neckties.

Dear diary, Sir was very pleased with me, so he bought me a gift.

            ‘I was excited, but also nervous. Sir had told me that it would be something we’d both enjoy, that it would help towards my training as his submissive, that it was a treat for being so good when his friends came to play with me, and that – should I hate it and not want to play- or leave the game at any time, then I should say the safe word he picked for the evening – Zebra.

Max paused, his gaze coming to rest on her rock-hard nipples. ‘You even wrote the safe word down – good girl. Sensible to have a word that can’t be mistaken for anything else.’ Thoughtful for a second, he opened a drawer in the desk next to him. ‘Those nipples look desperate. Here.’

Her eyes widened in pleasure as he slid of his chair, onto his knees. Shuffling a pace closer, his mouth came to her left breast, his teeth grazing her nipple, before he abruptly sucked hard, making her gasp into her underwear as her pussy gave an involuntary twitch.

She was just relaxing into the warm sensations that flooded her breast, when Max pulled back and clipped on a cold metal clamp. His sub’s gasps of pleasure morphed into a sharp intake of air; the shock of the firm clamp as it squeezed her sensitive damp tip, sending a second layer of pleasure – a darker one – riding on the back of the first.

She tried to stay relaxed, not to tense in readiness for the treatment she knew was about to follow on her right side, but as ever she failed, and that inability to stay calm, only went to enflame her further – just as her Sir knew it would.

‘There.’ Taking a step back, Max ran a practised eye over his partner. ‘Beautiful, and I bet you feel good too, don’t you?’

A muffled, ‘Yes Sir’ came from between her lips and the purple knicker gag.

‘Now then.’ He sat back down, ‘where was I? Ah yes…The gift was a spreader. Until now, Sir has always tied me to a chair or the end of the bed. We’re talked about getting a spreader before, but never have. Just looking at it – thinking of the possibilities -of what Sir might do to me while my legs were cuffed into each end…I could only imagine. Although, I didn’t have to imagine for long.

‘My word, it is a thing of beauty.

Max stopped reading, ‘It is a thing of beauty – like you, my Sub.’

Lowering himself off the chair again, he sat on the floor before her and, the diary still open before him, reached a hand to her open, tethered legs, and caressed a single finger over and around her clit, enjoying the feel of the moisture he found gathering there as he read on.

I was tied to my chair while Sir showed me my gift. I must confess, dear diary, that I drooled into my ball gag as I watched the large box being opened and three long metal rods coming out, two of which had fur cuffs attached to the end. Sir told me to pay careful attention to how the spreader was put together. It was difficult to obey, for although my eyes were not shielded by a blindfold, and the room was light, the wand Sir had taped between my thighs had been fixed on a low setting – and had been buzzing over my clit for almost five minutes. Without Sir’s permission to cum, I was fighting hard to obey him and not climax – while watching all he showed me….

Max pushed a finger up inside his Sub, making her whimper with need. ‘You’re close now aren’t you, I can hear it in your breathing. You can cum once I’ve finished reading, yes Sub?’

‘Uh, huh, Sir’

‘Good Sub.’ Max kept one finger lazily pumping in and out of her as he went on. ‘…There were three metal tubes in the packaging, which were to be fixed together to form the spreader. As I’m quite short, Sir was kind, and didn’t fix the metal rods together at their widest setting, but even so, I could see that, once the faux fur cuffs were in place around my ankles then I’d be spread very wide open – available for anything…ANYTHING Sir wished.

            ‘As I write this, sweat is gathering under my breasts, and my nipples are aching – not from the delicious flogging they had while I was spreadeagled on the living room floor, ankles cuffed, legs immobile thanks to my gift, but from the thought of what Sir might do to me next time I’m spread like that.

I knew Sir would treat me kindly, but even so, I hadn’t imagined what a difference the unyielding nature of the metal poles would be like – how at his mercy I’d be …and how much I’d love it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet…

I will leave you here so that I can continue with drafting this spreader inspired story.

Happy reading and playing everyone,

Kay xx

 

 

 

 

 

Page 7 of 74

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén