Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

Tag: blog Page 1 of 21

Something for the weekend: 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

 

 

 

 

 

Bondseque

WARNING. Some rather bad innuendos are coming your way…

Many moons ago, when struggling to break through in writing, my then partner looked at my dream job and took it in hand to blow some inspiration into me, and thus she thrust ten inches of astonishment into my face; a newspaper article on how a novelist was finding more sales and fulfillment as an erotic writer than as a “serious” author. (Not that I’m saying writing erotica, isn’t being a series writer!!)

“Why don’t you have a go?” demanded the now-ex, knowing my work was flaccid, my determination limp and my work-ethic shrivelled, for I had been getting nowhere with mainstream writing and was therefore experiencing enormous difficulty in keeping it up.

I decided to have a go and was soon producing a steady drip of novella-length fantasy erotica which did actually sell a few copies. While modesty (and reality) forbids me from claiming I was enormous, I did have more success than hitherto, with readers gulping down the seeds of my modest pen. Is this going anywhere, you may ask? Or have I already finished while you were distracted by that new crack on the ceiling?

Well, after this frenzied activity, I was spent; my quill burnt out, my inspiration dried, the great throbbing rocket of my work toppled and refusing to go off.  And so it remained until the present lock down, when I was furloughed and twiddling my body parts (thumbs, just in case you needed clarification). Having edited three works in progress, I needed something else to do, and I suddenly remembered I’d started an erotica years ago which never reached any sort of climax.

This one was a bit different. My previous work was all quite straight, and rather humourless. This one was a ridiculous over-the-top Carry On style Bond spoof. With bonking. Lots and lots of comedy bonking. In villainous lairs, in aeroplanes and under giant lasers. The story featured twosomes, threesomes, and about twenty-sixsomes.

The humour is silly, the puns awful, the scenarios deliberately laboured and the whole thing was contrived beyond all reason. I got it out, dusted it down, breathed on it, polished it, stiffened it up and finally thrust it up Amazon Kindle. And then did it twice more to make a trilogy, damn-near straining my wrist into the bargain. (What with all the added typing).

And here it is. The fruit of my literary loins. A thoroughly silly-sexy-Bondesque-spoof-type thing running to a rather brisk 10,000 words. With mutated snapping turtles, a space-faring flatulent monkey, a giant laser, a glamorous secret agent in the person of Agent 69, Juno Keswick, and a sexually inadequate villain promising death to the world. And the name of this literary masterpiece?

Doctor Blow.

By More.

Roger More.

Roger Much More.

And all for the price of 78 British pence. (That’s 99 cents, for US readers).

What more could you ask for?

Apart from (obviously) plot, character, suspense and higher literary meaning?

So, why not grab a coffee, grab a copy of the book, and have a giggle for an hour or so during these odd times?

Keep on rogering.

Roger.

Extract:

Juno Keswick, A.U.N.T Agent 69, unaware of the crisis engulfing the planet, was at that moment on a fairly routine mission. She was trapped in the secret lair of a megalomaniac super-villain who had suspended her upside down over a poisonous rock pool in which mutated snapping turtles swam in lazy circles, waiting for their dinner to be lowered down to them.

It was a good life, being the mutated snapping turtle of a megalomaniac villain. True, they had to wait some time for each meal to be lowered as their insane creator, Professor Havelock, liked to gloat over his victims, but the turtles had learned patience.

It was true also that the morality of consuming anyone who transgressed against the professor was a grey area at best, but when all was said and done, the turtles were on three square meals a day and had a nice pool to swim in. Against such luxury, morality was simply an inconvenience.

“Now, Miss Keswick,” called the professor from the control board of the mini crane that clasped Juno’s boots, holding her over the bubbling surface of the pool. “Do you now regret your desire to interfere in my plans?”

“Hardly a desire, professor,” drawled Juno as she swung gently back and forth. “It’s what I was trained to do.”

“Ah, yes, for glory and honour, queen and country,” sneered the professor. “And see where that has got you. Suspended over the pit of turtle doom!”

“It’s an occupational hazard.”

“Pah! Foolish girl. What did you think you could achieve against me? What can you do, suspended over the pit of turtle doom, when I hold your handbag with all your secret gadgets?

“The lipstick which turns into a laser,” continued the professor. “The mirror which doubles as a communicator; the pen which turns into a missile; the strange wand stamped as a Big Boy Mark 4 and with settings ranging from “Titillate” to “Oh my God Yes” which I haven’t quite worked out, as yet, though my laboratory will reveal all under analysis?”

“That last one’s not actually a weapon, and I don’t appreciate you getting your grubby fingerprints all over it,” observed Juno, her hands casually clasping the hem of her short silver dress to preserve her modesty. “And you forgot the compact,”

“What of the compact?”

“Oh, haven’t you worked that one out yet? I’m not surprised; it is quite complicated.”

“Complicated?” echoed the professor, pulling the tortoiseshell compact from the bag. “It’s a standard compact with a garrotting wire wrapped in the edge, a small tracker built into the upper lid and fake face powder which is in fact a powerful narcotic. There is no mystery here.”

“You have neglected the final surprise.”

“Oh, you mean the explosive charge hidden under the powder? I assure you, my dear, I have been very careful in not pressing the secret button moulded into the bottom of the case.”

“And therein lies your mistake.”

The professor frowned, angry at the implication he had missed something. “What mistake?”

“The secret button doesn’t activate the explosive charge. It deactivates it. If you hold the compact for longer than one minute without pressing the button, the charge will ignite. Right about now!”

The professor yelled as the compact exploded in his hand, spraying narcotic powder into his face. He staggered around in a strange semi-circle which rather improbably took him around the crane and up to the very edge of the turtle pool of death. He coughed and raged feebly as the narcotic seeped into his system, sending him into a deep sleep.

“No, this cannot be,” he slurred as his body hovered over the edge of the pool, one foot suspended over the swirling water. “Oh, the unforeseen irony, that after dumping so many of my enemies in here, I too should contrive to fall into my very own pit of zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.” With a huge snore, the professor tumbled forward into the pit.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Doctor-Blow-Featuring-Agent-Keswick-ebook/dp/B08CTGXGF1/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2CMU6Y0R3WLW2&dchild=1&keywords=roger+much+more&qid=1595510194&sprefix=roger+much+mo%2Caps%2C150&sr=8-1

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RogerMuch

Bio

“Roger Much More is known the world over as a top secret spy in a safari suit. But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret…”

***

Many thanks Roger – happy blowing xx

#New Release! Through the Lens by @AdrianaKraft #EroticRomance #Menage #MFRWAuthor

#New Release! Through the Lens by @AdrianaKraft #EroticRomance #Menage #MFRWAuthor

About Our Story

Does your family history contain scandal? Ours does, as recently as my mother’s grandfather, who was born a bastard in an era when that status carried far more stigma than now. His mother – a logger’s daughter who served as a camp cook – was shunned and shamed for much of her life. On the other side, my husband’s grandfather was a bigamist. A threshing crew foreman in the early 1900s, he married and had children in Missouri, then married again in Kansas. My husband’s grandmother divorced him when she learned of the other family; their son, my husband’s father, was ten years old.

We blessed—or perhaps cursed—our Through the Lens heroine with elements of these scandals. Naturally, she’s heard some of the stories. Through the Lens chronicles her struggle with these long-forgotten roots. Will she claim them, or run the other way?

 

Blurb

Prairie roots can be deceptive. Will Ellen Jeffers cling to the sedate past that’s familiar, or will she embrace a different version of her history—one that includes tragedy, scandal, fortitude, and freedom?

It’s 2002, and South Dakota third grade teacher Ellen Jeffers has signed up for a photography summer course and assistantship at an art academy in Minneapolis. Thirty-three, divorced for nearly a decade from her college boyfriend, she’s not seeking major change. She just hopes the course will enhance her teaching skills and her resume.

Aaron Brewster comes from privilege, and he has used that status to flaunt his family’s values and carve out a successful career as a photographer specializing in black and white erotic portraiture. Has he ever loved? His love is for beauty, sensuality, eroticism. His new uptight teaching assistant will never fit that vision. Should he send her packing? For reasons he cannot fathom, he takes her on as a challenge.

Aaron’s frontal assault shocks Ellen, but it also triggers something deep inside she’s never been willing to acknowledge. Is her beloved prairie a safe refuge, or will it become a crucible for transformation? The choice is not merely Ellen’s.

Buy Links

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Through-Lens-Adriana-Kraft-ebook/dp/B08BZXMNNW/

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/through-the-lens-adriana-kraft/1137261501?ean=2940164557683

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/through-the-lens-5

Extasy https://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2955-3-through-the-lens/

GoodReads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54475455-through-the-lens

 

Reviews and Endorsements for Adriana Kraft Books

Wow, what an incredible book! Not only is The Merry Widow a gripping, romantic suspense but the heat level is hotter than Death Valley… The ending took me by surprise and I was a little sad to see it end. I grew attached to the characters and wanted to stay in their world a little bit longer. The Merry Widow will be on my keeper shelf and one I will be re-reading again and again. Highly recommend!   N. N. Light

Their romance is hot in all the right places…If you love romance with more than two people, you’re going to love this book! Seducing Cat is a must read! The TBR Pile

Filled with warmth, blazing hot sex, well-developed characters and an interesting plot…not for the faint of heart.  If you are looking for an interesting story filled with scorching hot erotica, author Adriana Kraft’s novel Vegas Gambler is the book for you. Romance Junkies

Ms. Kraft has a gift for pleasing the reader with vivid imagery and erotic language. Fasten your seat belts – Cherry Tune-Up is one hot ride that you don’t want to miss. Romance Junkies

Definitely recommended The Reunion sizzled as two incredibly sexy women and one gorgeous guy form a super hot triad, eventually. These three are by far and away the best smoldering trio I have read about. Oh, bring on more of this, but read this one first!  Rainbow Reviews

About Adriana Kraft

When it’s Time to Heat Things Up

Award winning author Adriana Kraft is a married couple writing Sizzling Romantic Suspense and Erotic Romance for Two, Three, or More. Whether readers open our romantic suspense or our erotic romance, they can expect characters they care about, hot sex scenes, and a compelling story. Our suspense stories deliver one man, one woman, danger and intrigue. Our erotic romance is edgier and nearly always includes ménage or polyamory, sometimes with two women and a man, sometimes with two (or more) couples. We write our Erotic Romance stories to entertain, of course, but most of all we write them because we believe in happy endings for all who fall in love, whatever their gender, sexual orientation or numerical combination.

 

Social Media Links

Website: https://adrianakraft.com

Blog: https://www.adrianakraft.com/blog

Newsletter: free download of our erotic romance novella Cherry Tune-Up for signing up.

Twitter https://twitter.com/AdrianaKraft

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/adriana.kraft.5

FaceBook Fan Page https://www.facebook.com/AdrianaKraftAuthor

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/author/adrianakraft

GoodReads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1578571.Adriana_Kraft

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/adrianakraft5/

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/kraftadriana/

BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/adriana-kraft

Excerpt

Fixing his gaze on the rather stoic woman sitting across from him at the small table in his academy office, Aaron Brewster tried his best to get a good read on her. He’d spent much of his life reading women—their moods and their desires. He’d developed a reputation for being adept at capturing feminine subtleties in black and white.

Ellen Jeffers was one of those rare women who defied immediate description. She vacillated between projecting an air of haughtiness—which he supposed came with being a schoolteacher who seldom believed her audience understood her—to projecting an air of innocence characteristic of a girl from the South Dakota prairie making her way in the unfamiliar big city. And in between those poles, he witnessed prim and proper, mystery, smugness, disdain, awe, shyness, self-censure, and thankfully a spark or two of humor.

If she was going to work with him, he’d have to get her in front of the camera. It was through the camera lens that he could best sort out the nuances of a woman and his own feelings about her. Keeping his smile to himself, he wondered if his summer teaching assistant had ever posed in the nude.

He needed help with his tits-and-ass study, but the way Ellen Jeffers blanched at some of nude pics hanging on his office walls, he wasn’t sure she’d be helpful with that project. He’d take a wait-and-see position about her usefulness. At the very least, he needed an assistant comfortable enough in her own skin to help models prepare themselves for the scrutiny of the camera.

“Do you only do nude portraits?” Ellen asked, glancing quickly from one photo to another and back to him.

“Some subjects are partially clad,” he said dryly. “So does nudity bother you, Ellen? Is it okay if I call you Ellen? Given how close we’ll be working together, first names seem more natural.”

“Of course, please do.”

“And nudity?” He arched an eyebrow. “You are comfortable with nudity, right? You’ve been married. You’ve hung around art students, and you applied to this program.”

“My undergraduate college didn’t allow nude modeling.” She didn’t blink. “I had hoped to expand my knowledge of landscape photography or taking action pictures of children.”

“I see. You’re avoiding my question, but that’s okay. In case you’re wondering, I didn’t select you as my teaching assistant. You were the only person available when I returned from a conference. So if you want to blame someone for your misfortune, blame my colleagues. This is sort of like going on a blind date.” He paused. “I’ve only been on one. I didn’t like it.”

Ellen’s laughter came quick and a little harsh. “At least we can agree on that.” She swallowed. “So I guess it’s safe to assume that you don’t do weddings, family portraits and such.”

He shook his head. He’d love to have a window into the strawberry blonde’s brain as she appeared to check off her options. She didn’t have many, and he knew it. She could go back to South Dakota, but he’d already witnessed her grit. Ellen Jeffers wouldn’t run if she could manage at all.

She smacked her lips. “I haven’t spent much time around nudity”—she gave him a wry smile—”and much of that was in the dark. It may take me a while, but I’m sure I’ll be comfortable enough.”

 

GIVEAWAY!

Follow this link to enter the release blitz giveaway!!

 http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/8b9ec5be194/?

Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

***

Tags: Erotic Romance, Ménage, Four-Way, Prairie, Photography, Erotic Portraiture

Release Date: June 26, 2020

Publisher: Extasy Books

Genre: Erotic Romance; Ménage

Something for the Weekend: Yes Ma’am

For this week’s #somethingfortheweekend, I’m treating you to some #femdom action from Yes Ma’am.

Blurb

Could you write your wildest fantasies on your best friend’s boyfriend, or sell your sexual soul to a woman in black?

Find out how far army cadet, Luke Porter, will go to improve his standing within his regiment, and discover the consequences of losing your temper on London’s Underground in this collection of wrist binding, whip wielding, butt spanking tales of female domination.

Yes Ma’am contains six straight and bi-sexual encounters of the S&M nature.

The six stories, each taking a different take on the FemDom experience, are…

Lying in Wait– Cadet Luke Porter is the least successful army recruit in the squadron. His female counterparts are determined to find out how far Luke will go to improve his standing within the regiment…

Black – He is intoxicated by the woman in black. He can’t explain why he needs to see her or why he willing does precisely what she tells him to…

Dear Claire – Ali has secretly lusted over her best friend’s lover Rick, for a long time. At least, she thought it was a secret…

“Don’t You Emma” – Sitting in an armchair has never been so difficult…

Not Taking the Tube – Venting his frustration at being delayed yet again by London’s Underground system on the nearest official, the harassed businessman finds his complaints aren’t received in quite the way he’d expected…

Rachel’s Twisted Tale – Rapunzel never suffered like this….

***

Here’s an extract from “Don’t You Emma.”

… Lee sat back in the leather armchair. She’d told him that all he had to do to get a damn good fucking was to stay in the chair until she decreed otherwise.

As he watched Daisy move around the living room Lee thought, not for the first time, how inappropriately named she was. The name suggested someone meek, gentle and childlike. It didn’t conjure the image of a tall, fit, fake blonde, who could get her rocks off simply by beating your arse until it glowed purple.

She was clearing the space in front of him. The coffee table had already been repositioned to the side of the chair, and the newspapers that usually lay all over the place had been stacked up. All the cushions he’d thrown off the sofa had been neatly placed back where they belonged.

‘You are going to reward me for watching you clean up?’ Lee was amused by this uncharacteristic fit of tidying.

Daisy gave him a stare that would have chilled a lesser man to the bone, but Lee had known her for a long time and all it did was increase the arousal of her promise to give him a good seeing-to.

‘I don’t believe I said you could talk to me while you were waiting.’

‘Come off it, Daisy. You’re only doing the chores.’

Ignoring him, his partner brushed her hands together, and glancing at the increased floor space across the now uncluttered pale green carpet, left the room.

Lee’s imagination had already moved on to what reward he was going to get for being a good, patient boy. He wondered if he’d have to endure a spanking, or if she’d bind or gag him. Flickers of tense longing played in his stomach and stirred his groin.

Glancing at the clock on the corner of the bookcase, he listened to the quiet tick. It seemed to fill the room as he waited with growing impatience for Daisy’s return. He assumed she was fetching her sex toys, or perhaps changing into something less comfortable. It was with a sense of a surprise and unease, however, that Lee heard the front door open and the sound of muffled voices.

Despite only wearing a red T-shirt and some lightweight black combats, Lee suddenly felt rather hot as Daisy re-entered the lounge with company.

The warning glint in Daisy’s eyes confirmed that Lee should stay precisely where he was, his legs outstretched before him, his arms resting on the chair’s soft padded arms, his mouth shut.

His dark brown eyes moved from his lover to the girl with her. About 25 years old perhaps, with long ginger hair that hung in two perfectly tied pigtails. Slim, but with enough of a curve to catch the eye, her green gaze had a keen, eager to please gleam, that just hinted at mischief.

Lee swallowed very carefully. Daisy hadn’t, had she? Not really? He opened his mouth to ask her if he was right, or if his imagination was running away with him. No sound came out though. He didn’t want to risk her saying he was mistaken and ruining the fantasy that roller-coasted around his lust driven head.

The girl, without taking off either the boots or the long winter coat she wore, even though it was a warm summer’s day, answered his unspoken question, as she lowered her head and knelt on the cleared floor before Daisy; her mistress.

‘Oh my!’ His words were barely audible. Daisy either hadn’t heard them or had dismissed them as unimportant. Lee concentrated very hard on breathing; forcing himself to sit still and not lean forward in the chair…

***

You can find out what happened next within the epages of Yes Ma’am via…

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

***

Happy reading,

Kay x

Something for the weekend: A Kink a Day Book Three

Heavy week at work? Why not sit down (lie down?) and enjoy a moment’s full on kink.

This week I thought I’d share a little from

A Kink a Day – Book Three for #somethingfortheweekend 

A Kink a Day – Book Three

From the extreme kink of a wedding at a city S&M club, a deliciously erotic rendition on a double bass, an imaginative take on a set of brushes, and beyond, A Kink a Day Book Three provides eight bite-sized moments of lust-fuelled distraction. One for every day of the week—plus an additional fantasy thrown in to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.

On Show

As the first of the ties was attached to her ankles, Pippa still wasn’t sure what had broken inside her.

The moment she’d walked through the door to work that evening and seen the spreader board waiting for its next customer, her iron will had caved in. Now, as her body was pushed against the cold wood, it felt more alive than ever before.

Her mind, however, was in terrified freefall. She was about to become part of the image that haunted her, the one that gave her sleepless nights and erotic dreams, that featured so strongly in her head whenever she was having sex; the one she was afraid of, and so utterly and totally turned on by.

The jeering from the crowd which had gathered around Pippa petered into a reverend hush. She could see a queue forming out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t dare look directly at it. All she could concentrate on was the warm nimble male hands that’d smoothed her skin as they’d stripped her, and were now securing the last of her limbs to the portable x-shaped board, which had been wheeled into the centre of the room.

With her ankles and wrists encased in short metal chains, locked with little room to manoeuvre against the heavy oak frame, Pippa felt vulnerable, sexy, excited, and petrified all at once.

Keeping her green eyes lowered, she moved her wrists a fraction, testing the bonds. Her long ginger hair fell over her eyes. Being unable to sweep it back from her face abruptly bought home just how helpless she was, and her already fast pulse tripled its pace in tense anticipation of what was going to happen to her over the following hour.

The only way to escape from the spreader was to say the password that had been whispered to her when the confinement began. She’d never heard anyone use the escape password, and she was determined not to be the first to wimp out despite the panic swirling in her gut. Pippa kept reminding herself how badly she needed to know what it was like to be the subject of so much erotic attention. She couldn’t see any other way of ending the dreams that plagued her night after night and day after day…

****

You can read the rest of the story in A Kink a Day- Book Three.

Don’t forget you can find all four books from the series here – https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/35498

Happy reading

Kay xx

Page 1 of 21

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén