Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

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It’s all in the setting

There are many elements needed to produce a good story, erotic or otherwise. For me, the first and foremost element to start a story is location. If I can’t picture clearly in my head where the action takes place- be it an intensely hot screw in a store cupboard (Tied to the Kitchen Sink),  or a stomach churning encounter involving garden twine in a shed (The Voyeur)- then the words simply do not flow.

It is for this reason that every single story I’ve ever written, from the shortest piece of flash fiction, to my longest novel, have all been set in genuine locations. What happens in those chosen places may be entirely fictional (with the occasional exception!), but every background setting within a Kay Jaybee tale is 100% real.

On occasion, I have tried to invent places in which to gather people, and then take their clothes off (or not), but none of these stories have worked. I need to be able to feel the vibe of a location. To know how the air conditioning hums, or how the damp aroma of rain soaked wood would affect the characters in a certain environment. I want to be able to accurately assess these environmental conditions, so each location has to be real.

An excellent example of this can be found in my recently re-released #eroticromance, Digging Deep .

Blurb

Dr Beth Andrews’ first foreign excavation, which she co-runs with the American archaeologist Dr Harrison Harris, gets off to a shaky start.

Thanks to the jealous interference of Harrison’s ex, an overzealous student, and a broken mosaic, Anglo-American relations are pushed to the limit, while Beth’s erotic and romantic expectations are similarly tested.

Love and lust really can cloud even the cleverest person’s judgement!

***

I had long wanted to use some of my experiences as an archaeologist in my work. In this case it wasn’t so much the amazing excavation I was part of that attracted me to write Digging Deep, but the difficulties of doing such work under the trying circumstances the location had to offer. Difficulties I faced myself, as an archaeologist, in the early 1990’s.

Tunisian Olive Groves

Tunisian Olive Groves

Tunisia might well be the perfect place to soak up the sun as a tourist in a nice luxury hotel, but outside of tourist world, it is a very different story. I wanted to capture how challenging, both physically and mentally, it is to sleep in a freezing cold half built house, on bare concrete floors, and then bake by day beneath a 120+ degree sun. Add to this the frustration of digging in sand, with its oh so annoying habit of backfilling in on itself every few minutes, and you have the perfect location and situation for even the most intelligent people to lose their sense of perspective- something which happened in real life as well as in the pages of Digging Deep– although in a completely different way!!

You can buy Digging Deep from Amazon-

Digging Deep eBook : Jaybee, Kay: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

It is my practise of using real locations in my manuscripts, which has led me to develop the habit of greeting every new place I visit with a silent surveillance of erotic suitability. There can’t be a café, library, museum, shop, store cupboard, or indeed anywhere, that hasn’t been corrupted Kay-style in my mind, as my ever active imagination seeks out new stories in every place possible!

So be warned- don’t invite be to your place – unless you want your living room to turn up in a future Kay Jaybee number!

Happy reading,

Kay xx

The Fifth Floor: Jess Saunders adventure begins…

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

 

Read an e-book week: Smashwords Sale!

The Smashwords ‘E-Book Week’ Sale is now on!

From 3rd March until 9th March, YES MA’AM, is FREE!!!

THE VOYEUR and MAKING HIM WAIT are ONLY  99c/p

All my other ebooks are HALF PRICE for the next 7 days!!

YES MA’AM is FREE!!

#femdom #anthology #sexy #erotica

THE VOYEUR and MAKING HIM WAIT are ONLY 99c/p

#darkromance #erotica #threesome #highkink

50% OFF the rest of my #erotic #ebooks including…

The complete series of The Perfect Submissive…

Not to mention some very sexy word action from The Collector, all the Kink a Day books, Wednesday on Thursday  and more!

All of the ebooks I have on Smashwords can be found here.

Happy reading,

Kay x

 

Opening Lines: The Voyeur

It’s #openinglines time! 

Take five minutes out of your day to enjoy the first 500 words of my dark romance novel, The Voyeur!

BLURB

Wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M 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 the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, Anya’s previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.

In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch…

FIRST 500 WORDS

Chapter One

His evening meal complete, Mark Parker sat back, contentedly sipping his deliberately bitter black coffee. Pulling a small, battered notebook from his pocket, he flicked impatiently thorough several pages of his looped handwriting . His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out.

It was time for them to progress to the end of the list.

Summoning his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room, Mark allowed himself an internal smile. The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping him waiting.

Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, he observed as his employees visibly braced themselves for the coming instructions.

‘I have decided that we’ll take a trip to Discreet this evening. It is time we turned our attention to the next challenge on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes watched; weighing up the reaction of his staff to his announcement.

Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of 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 publicly appreciated; most of which involved the intimate 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 the housekeeper’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, the women had no illusions about 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 the question “why” she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardened beneath her white shirt, as Mark continued to speak.

‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was as soft as velvet, 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 and compliant slave. How could Mark possibly know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than ordinary existence?

Mark took a step closer to his …

***

If you’d like to read on, then you can find The Voyeur in ebook form from the following retailers…

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

Happy reading,

Kay x

Opening Lines: Digging Deep

It’s been quite a while since I shared some ‘Opening Lines’ with you, so today I’m putting that right.

Put your feet up, grab a cuppa, and enjoy the first 500 words from my recently updated #eroticromane, Digging Deep.

Based (loosely!!!) on my own adventures as an archaeologist in searing hot Tunisia many years ago, this novella was immense fun to write.

Blurb

Dr Beth Andrews’ first foreign excavation, which she co-runs with the American archaeologist Dr Harrison Harris, gets off to a shaky start.
Thanks to the jealous interference of Harrison’s ex, an overzealous student, and a broken mosaic, Anglo-American relations are pushed to the limit, while Beth’s erotic and romantic expectations are similarly tested.
Love and lust really can cloud even the cleverest person’s judgement!

FIRST FIVE HUNDRED WORDS…

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 been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand. A job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the 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. 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.

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 black and white photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.

Flicking her gaze covertly towards Harrison, Beth tried to subdue the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what Linda, 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 fried during the day and frozen at night, 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, when the temperatures plummeted, and she was too cold to nod off.

As her first…

***

If you want to find out what happens next, and feel not just the heat of the desert sun rise, you can buy Digging Deep from Amazon (all territories except the US and Canada), including Amazon.co.uk.

Happy reading!!

Kay xx

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