Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

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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

A Double Dose of Dark Romance for Valentine’s Day

As it’s Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d share a double dose of dark romance.

Read on to enjoy some sexy extracts from The Voyeur and Not Her Type

First let’s tiptoe into the FFM world of The Voyeur

Blurb

Wealthy business man and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is in the process of making a 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 his willing slave’s bare backs, 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 why is Mark getting mixed up with Anya’s previous employers at the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club- a place Anya was all 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 had left behind them all over again…

Extract

Anya had re-scanned all the emails that had flown across the invisible airwaves of the Atlantic between herself and Candice over the past few weeks. Having retreated to the bathroom to redo her lipstick and add a second layer of concealer to the bags under her eyes, Anya felt was as ready as she’d ever be to face the confident, ultra-efficient American PA over the video link.

Having checked the webcam was working properly, and that she was seated comfortably for the forthcoming exchange of information, Anya grabbed a final glance at the notes she’d made, and turned the conference call facility onto standby. She was just tapping in the password she required to be patched through to the States when the office door opened and Mark and Clara walked in. Anya’s stomach twisted into a knot of lust as she regarded Clara in a skin-hugging Lycra catsuit, all scarlet and black; a combination which showed her figure off to perfection.

There was no point in protesting that she was about to take an important call; Mark already knew that. Why else would he have bought Clara in, dressed so provocatively, at that exact moment? Her boss was a game player extraordinaire, and he knew precisely how to press her buttons, and freak her out at the same time. Anya had known Fantasy 6 would have to be replayed – but she hadn’t expected it now; so soon after Fantasy 2.

So, Mark isn’t going to rerun his erotic fancies in order after all.

Mark said nothing as he gestured for Anya to rise while he pulled her chair from her desk. Clara, without prompting, crawled under the desk, and crouching uncomfortably, waited for Mark to speak.

Even as her boss pointedly announced the obvious imminent replay of Fantasy 6, Anya was ahead of him, vividly remembering what had happened last time she had been forced to carry out a telephone call with Clara’s head between her legs. This time it seemed she was going to have to endure all the gorgeous delights to come while communing with an audience who could not only hear her voice, but see her as well; and who must never know what was going on below the desk.

‘Roll up your skirt, take off your thong, and sit down. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the importance of opening your legs as wide as possible.’ Anya kicked off her shoes and obliged. ‘Quickly, girl, it’s time for your meeting to begin.’

As she sat, pulling in her chair as close to the desk as it would go without squashing Clara, Anya tried to steady her nerves. The video line rang, and Anya plastered a convincingly serene smile across her face.

‘How are you, Candice, all well over there?’ Anya felt pleased at how normal her voice sounded despite the knowledge that the woman she loved was curled up only inches from her naked pussy.

‘I’m great, thank you.’ Candice, as no-nonsense as ever, dived straight into the business of the day. ‘I’m pleased to say that the personnel alterations we’ve had this end seem to be an improvement, rather than the procedural nightmare that we both feared.’

Anya listened hard as Candice listed the strengths of the new employees and what she hoped they would bring to Parker Software as a whole. But as the minutes ticked by, and Clara hadn’t so much as breathed on her, Anya found her focus beginning to falter.

‘And if his impact so far is anything to go by, then I judge that Stuart Hopkirk will turn out to be the better of the new candidates to fulfil the transatlantic element of the sales force. He’s more of a “people person”, if you see what I mean?’ Candice emphasised her point by using her fingers to show the inverted commas around the statement that Anya had only partially heard.

Why hadn’t Clara done anything yet? Last time this had happened, her lover had been straight in with the action. That had been hard enough, trying to keep her tone business-like when Clara had been employing her mouth so expertly. This non-action was far worse. Anya was so braced for the feel of the first touch that she knew she was losing the thrust of what Candice was saying.

‘Anya, are you OK?’ Candice’s southern twang sounded genuinely concerned as her counterpart failed to answer a question.

‘Sorry, the screen broke up then for a bit,’ Anya rallied, not daring to glance in Mark’s direction, knowing he’d be annoyed at her lack of professionalism. ‘Could you repeat that one, please?’

‘Sure. I was saying that Hopkins will be over in the UK next month, so I’ll confirm dates with you once flights are booked. Mark should talk with him face to face. His ideas on company development are interesting.’

‘Of course. I’ll sort a meet and greet session in London as soon as you confirm timings.’

‘Excellent! Right, that just leaves us to sort Mark’s visit to the States in the summer. Are you coming with him this year? It would be great to meet you in person.’

‘I doubt it. I – owwww!’ Anya jumped as a sharp pair of teeth dug into her pussy. ‘Oh, do excuse me; I think I was just stung. Must be an insect in here or something.’

Candice’s eyes narrowed. She looked far from convinced, but was too professional and polite to do anything other than take Anya’s word for it.

Anya could feel a blush start to creep up her neck and tinge her cheeks pink as Clara continued to nibble her teeth over and around her mound, pulling back her labia with a sharp pressure which she knew could bring Anya off very quickly.

It was time to end this conference call, and quickly. ‘Well, my diary has the last four days of July pencilled in as a possible. How does that fit with you?’

Candice tapped a few buttons on the out of sight iPad Anya knew she was physically attached to, and looked up with an orthodontically enhanced, white toothed smile. ‘The 29th is out, but the four days prior to that are clear. Shall I book Mark in?’

Without even bothering to check those days were free in Mark’s calendar, Anya said, ‘That would be excellent.’ As Clara’s tongue and right hand joined in the exploration of her crotch, Anya pretended to write down the dates.

‘Anything else you require today, Candice?’ Anya squeezed her fingernails into her hidden palms, trying to deflect the need to wriggle her arse closer to Clara’s lips, which had begun to move even faster.

‘I think that just about concludes things. Thanks for your time, Anya.’

Issuing a smile of genuine relief as Candice bought things to a close, Anya felt Clara’s long fingernails began to delicately scrape the space below her clit. Her smile toward Candice froze for a split second as Clara then forcibly pushed a hand under Anya, shoving her butt upwards so her anus could be tickled.

‘One moment please, ladies.’ Mark strode across the room, and bent into the eyeline of the video link.

‘Good morning, Mark. I’m sorry; I hadn’t realised you were there.’ Candice’s face lit up, leaving no one in any doubt as to how attractive she thought the owner of Parker Software was.

‘I’ve just arrived, sweetheart.’ Mark oozed charm at Anya’s American associate. ‘Could you be an absolute star and give me a brief breakdown of sales figures for the last quarter your end?’

Anya could have cried as Clara’s digits increased their pace. As she struggled to keep her body still from the waist up, her arse squirmed and her shoulders tensed. She felt like some kind of sinister ventriloquist’s dummy as her upper body stiffened, a look which, at an executive level, could so easily be interpreted as lack of confidence, and therefore weakness. If she wasn’t careful Candice would be putting the word about that she was cracking up. Given half the chance, Anya knew she would be on the next plane to the UK, kicking her out, so she could work with Mark instead.

Gathering herself together, doing her best to blank out what was happening to her below desk level, Anya snapped back into PA mode. ‘Actually, that would be very helpful for me as well; but if you wish for some time to gather that information, then I am happy to schedule another call tomorrow?’

‘Well, I can help a little now.’ Candice addressed Mark rather than the PA. Normally Anya would have been offended, but today she was simply relieved to have the impetus taken away from her for a minute, so she could take the opportunity to lift her buttocks from the chair, allowing Clara easier access to her backside. Instantly, Clara shuffled a digit inside her anus, and Anya trapped her girl’s finger and right arm beneath her, successfully limiting the source of the sensually distracting motion around her groin.

Undetected, however, Clara’s left hand continued its adventure by running up Anya’s legs, dancing only the tips of her fingers over the exposed flesh, making Anya shiver, causing the inserted finger to burrow deeper into her backside.

As Candice and Mark discussed import and export figures, Anya found it harder to remain centred on them, her mind drifting more and more to the curled-up creature beneath the desk.

‘Can you confirm that for me please, Anya?’ Mark’s voice snapped Anya back to attention. She was suddenly convinced by the way he and Candice were staring at her that this was at least the second time he’d asked her that question.

She knew there was no point in bluffing; they were both too shrewd for that. ‘I’m sorry, I allowed myself to be distracted. Can you repeat that, please?’

‘Sorry, Anya, I don’t have the time.’ Mark was brusque, and he turned his face back to the video link, treating Candice to his most disarming smile, ‘I must apologise for my PA’s behaviour, Candice. This unsatisfactory situation will be cleared up. Do you have time for another link meeting tomorrow?’

‘Certainly Mark, about 3 p.m.?’

Anya bristled silently, noticing that Candice hadn’t even referred to her diary, and privately hoped she’d find she was already busy and would have to reschedule, and therefore embarrass herself.

‘I’ll speak to you then. Many thanks, Candice; until tomorrow.’ Mark clicked off the link, and the room went deadly quiet…

****

Available in paperback or as an e-book, The Voyeur can be purchased from-

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

I hope you enjoyed that- here’s another extract for you- this time we go back in time to when DVD’s and video’s were all the rage. We’re entering the MF world of Not Her Type, and a kinky delivery man…

Not Her Type

Blurb

When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the center of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned. 

One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type…

In deference to Valentine’s Day and its romantic connections I will let you into a secret- Not Her Type is a love story. Shush…don’t tell anyone. Kay Jaybee- writing a love story!! My reputation as a producer of bondage smut will be forever dented!!

Fear not however, for throughout the c.28,000 words of this novella, S&M sits hand in glove with the underlying romantic streak. For this is a love story that neither Jenny nor John see coming- or indeed wanted- at first at least…

Based on the theory that opposite attract, Not Her Type begins at the dawn of a seemingly impossible and unlikely alliance between Jenny (a ridiculously over-educated accountant, who hates reality TV, and always reads the book before seeing the film) and John (her courier, who has no education at all, and only reads if someone points a gun to his head).

Here’s a tasty little extract for you…

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.

Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle, and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body, and flipped her onto her back, before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing in the glorious warmth of her orgasm, as he shot his spunk into her naked body……. “How did I not see that coming? How bloody naïve have I become? Jenny wondered. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s single…It’s been so long since I had a quick fuck. Too long…Hell, now I want another one, and soon. Damn.”

Running upstairs to her bedroom, Jenny stripped off her hastily donned clothes and stared critically into the full-length mirror. “Do I look different? No, my arms are still a touch too flabby, my backside a little too big, and my skin too pale.”

She felt different though. A bit like the girl she used to be, when she’d been a student. When she’d been braver.

As Jenny carried on staring at her reflection, she allowed her hands to trace the outline of her body, a body that was already infused with the heady aftershocks of being totally seen to. Flashbacks of her past assailed her. Things she’d consigned to the back of her mind and nailed up into a little box, never to be opened again—parts of her life that she had long since given up on.

Losing all concept of time as she stood there, naked, still able to feel the mark of his fingers on her flesh, Jenny shook her head, trying to dismiss the memories that her body’s unscheduled reawakening had brought to the surface. She wondered just how many customers John had seduced with those dangerous eyes. How many other sets of fingertips had tripped lightly over the Japanese-styled characters tattooed on his muscular arms?

“Let’s face it,” she spoke sternly to her reflection, “that was just a one-off. Next week he’ll just want a quick coffee as usual.” Doing her best to pull herself together, Jenny unhooked her wrap from the back of her bedroom door. Heading to the shower, her wits were a tattered mass of contradictions—the elation she felt from the astounding sex was at odds with the very clear proclamation that was niggling at the back of her head. “Jenny honey, he just isn’t your type. He isn’t even close!” …

A self-confessed nightmare when it comes to relationships, John warns Jenny that he can’t offer her more than occasional sex- yet, there is something about his favourite customer that keeps John coming back again and again – not least because this girl is kinky and then some!! It seems there is nothing Jenny isn’t prepared to do for John- every fantasy he has ever had is suddenly waiting for him to explore.

Do they live happily ever after? Do Jenny and John walk off into the sunset dancing and singing as if they were in some sickly movie? As if I’m going to tell you that!!

Why not treat yourself to a Valentines gift and find out the answers to those questions by kinking up your kindle, adding passion to your PC, or treating yourself to the paperback…

Buy links

Happy Valentine’s reading everyone!!

Kay xxxx

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 Voyeur

Escape into a little kink, and enjoy some BDSM ménage romance with  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…

Here’s an extract to tickle those visual taste buds… To their horror, Anya and Clara have just been told that they have to repeat many of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them. In this section of Chapter 3 we find the girls about to retake Fantasy 2, while Mark looks on. It’s torture by erotica…

…Reclining in his chair, Mark raised his arm as if he was about to start a race, and gave the first order. ‘Strip.’

With practice born of repetition, the women divested themselves of their clothing, heaping their discarded garments onto the bed behind them.

Mark took a moment to study his staff, and then pointed to the foot of the four-poster bed. Understanding the unspoken request, the women stood, face to face, one metre apart.

Anya could feel her heart rate quicken further as she regarded Clara. It didn’t matter that she had enjoyed the feel of Clara’s skin a hundred times before; all that mattered was feeling it again, and soon.

‘As you will remember, you must remain exactly where you are, without touching each other, without making a sound. All you have to do is listen and refrain from moving.’ Picking up a well-thumbed paperback of erotic short stories from the bedside table, Mark took his time leafing through the pages to find the section he’d decided to narrate to his staff.

‘Even though Gail had been expecting it, the ring of the doorbell still made her jump. Wiping her palms apprehensively down the back of her jeans, she went to greet her guest.

‘The smile that met Gail as she opened the door turned into a beam of approval as Becky’s eyes scanned Gail’s snug-fitting red top and black jeans as if she had X-ray vision. “Wow, that’s one sexy vest, honey.”

‘Gail’s face flushed, but she managed to swallow back her natural inclination to dismiss a compliment, and let her own eyes roam over her visitor. Becky, in blue jeans and a plain black figure-hugging T-shirt, which displayed her cleavage to perfection, looked fantastic. Her recently washed and fluffed hair smelt mildly of lemon, and her face looked fresh and keen.

‘“You look pretty hot yourself, come in.” Becky followed her host into the small hallway that led to the lounge.

‘Gail was thankful for the background music she’d put on, for now they were here, face to face, just out of arm’s reach, an awkward tension hung in the air. They simply didn’t know what to say to each other. Surprising herself by being the one to break the silence, Gail spoke quietly. “This is ridiculous. Come here.” Catching hold of Becky’s hand, feeling how cold it was despite the heat of the room, she pulled her down onto the short blue sofa.

‘They still didn’t talk, but now it didn’t matter. As Gail sat, her legs hooked up under her, her body whorled toward Becky, everything within her immediate sight became blurred around the edges; this girl’s face, her clear green eyes, her mouth, the hands that began to reach out to Gail …

‘As Becky’s fingers reached her cheeks, Gail was snapped back to reality by their tender touch on her pale flesh. Placing her own hands on Becky’s shoulders, Gail ran them up each side of her neck, until she was cupping her face. The desire to kiss this person, this woman, was overwhelming. As her face came to Gail’s, Becky muttered, “You still want to?”

‘“Oh yes.” Gail hardly even breathed the words as their lips came together and their eyes closed.

‘The goose-pimples that had been spotting Gail’s arms tingled, and every nerve-ending flickered as a supple tongue darted against her mouth, and soft hair stroked her face. Her lips would have been happy to keep doing this, to kiss this person endlessly, but Gail’s body had other ideas, and after a few moments she could no longer sustain the leisurely pace.

‘Her kisses became firmer, and Becky, picking up on Gail’s urgency, reciprocated with equal fervour. Their hands, everywhere at once, began a thorough exploration of each other. Kneading tits, sliding hands beneath shirts to feel bare skin against their virgin fingers, nipping at each other’s neck, trailing hands lower, caressing crotches through thick denim, they touched whatever they could reach without giving up the kissing that became more and more passionate.

‘Finally breaking away, panting, their eyes serious but twinkling with mutual lust, they stood up …’

As he read, Mark, who knew the passage he was reciting so well that he really didn’t need to have the book in front of him, watched the girls’ bodies react; their teats hardening, their breasts swelling. Gratified that they hadn’t yet wavered from their position, he launched back into the manuscript, continuing to observe Anya and Clara carefully as he read …

‘Reaching out again, Becky dragged Gail’s top from her shoulders. Copying the action, Gail drew a long deep breath as she saw Becky’s black lace chemise, an exhalation that was echoed by Becky, whose emerald gaze had locked on to Gail’s bright red satin bra. Only a second’s visual appreciation passed, however, as, with unspoken understanding, they freed their breasts.

‘Gail’s hands leapt to her companion’s perfectly round yielding chest. As she made contact with Becky’s globes, the neat beige tips pushed back against her palms. Becky let out a husky groan of yearning, bringing her own hands to the other woman, her little fingers rubbing around Gail’s dark areolas in delectably torturous circles.

‘Desperate to find out if the taste of a tit was as she imaged it to be, Gail knocked Becky’s hands away, her lips rushing forward on a collision course for her guest’s right nipple. The texture of female flesh between her teeth sent a thrill gushing through her, turning Gail’s pussy from damp to wet as she gently kissed all around the teat. Savouring Becky’s sigh of contentment, Gail turned her caresses to pinches and bites, making her lover gasp as her hands continued their investigation of the mouth-watering body that was responding to her so readily. A voice at the back of Gail’s mind was asking her how the hell she knew what to do, but she ignored it, more concerned with continuing her research.

‘Becky’s arms hung limp at her sides as Gail pushed her back onto the sofa, lifted her hips, and began to pull down her jeans.

‘Gail’s throat became Sahara dry as she revealed Becky’s ruby and silver-studded naval. Pausing to kiss it, she continued removing the denims until she was faced with a beautiful, black lace-covered pussy. Nothing mattered now except seeing what lay under that small triangle of fabric. With a quick glance at Becky to make sure she still wanted to proceed, Gail pressed a firm palm over the knickers, feeling her stomach muscles quiver as she ran a single finger beneath the waistband. Becky’s breathing became laboured as Gail peeled the lace away from her crotch.

‘The smoothly shaven pussy that met Gail’s eyes seemed to ask for attention all on its own. Gail’s fingers obliged, examining its secret folds. Her touch revelled in the unfamiliar sensations, and her nose instantly loved the sweet aroma as her fingers uncovered the erect clit. Leaning closer, Gail blew air across its tip, making Becky whimper as moist lips met her pussy. Lapping up the sweet juices with delight, Gail’s hands snaked up Becky, massaging each breast.

‘Murmuring her pleasure with short mewls, Becky’s body began to jerk. Her involuntary movements increased as Gail speeded her caresses, gliding a finger inside the wet snatch, as Becky, with a cry of joy, came around the thin digit while Gail continued to stimulate her clit …’

Anya’s toes clenched as she fought the urge to shuffle her feet. Her entire body could feel the echo of Becky and Gail’s imagined stimulation. Before the reading had started, Anya had adopted the position experience had taught her she could maintain for a long time, with her hands together in front of her. Now, as Mark’s words slunk over her, the PA felt her sticky palms suction together. Resolute that she would not fail, she was equally desperate to touch Clara. Anya began to wish that she had focused her eyes on her lover’s feet rather than on her slim, porcelain waist and perfectly oval naval.

Clara, her neck bent, was studying the patch of carpet just in front of Anya’s painted toenails. Her hands, linked behind her back, dug into her palms as she did her best to block out Mark’s low, sensual voice; trying to think about anything but the intensely erotic scenario that was being read to them.

Distracting herself, Anya began to mull over where Mark had hidden the stopwatch. She was sure there’d be one hidden somewhere, counting off the seconds until either she or Clara caved in and moved. It was probably in his pocket, but Anya didn’t dare lift her gaze enough to see if the tell-tale circular bulge to his jeans pocket was there.

As Mark lingered over a paragraph detailing the fictional women licking each other out, Anya’s crotch twitched faster. She could almost feel the described contact for herself, and guessed from the visible tensing of her stomach muscles that Clara was fighting a similar battle.

Trying hard not to dwell on how wet her partner might be, and wishing she’d been bound so that her forced inactivity was easier, Anya attempted to picture the pile of paperwork on her desk, and the massive number of emails that would be cluttering up her inbox while she was away from the office. Yet her attempts at such practical thoughts were washed away by Mark’s kinky recital …

‘Gail couldn’t believe how incredible it felt, as a girl stroked her inner thighs and snatch with languid strokes of her agile tongue. Unable to keep her hands still, she reached down to the top of Becky’s head, but, unable to reach her, moved her fingers to her own breasts, massaging them in time to the gloriously frustrating movements between her legs …’

It was Clara’s foot that shifted first. Just a tiny fraction. If Mark hadn’t been expecting it then it might have gone unnoticed, but he remembered how Fantasy 2 had ended last time, with the minor wriggle of his housekeeper’s toes, and it was with an expressionless dip of his head that he witnessed history repeating itself.

Clara inwardly cursed her unbidden movement. She was sure she had managed to remain motionless for longer than she had last time, but the proximity of Anya, and the temptation of the words Mark had been weaving around them, had been too much.

Now that Clara had moved, Anya felt the tension ease from her rigid frame, and risked flexing her fingers a little. Mark’s cut-glass voice ripped through the sound of the soloist singing her haunting tones from the stereo. ‘I expected you to last longer, Miss Hooper. You have six months more experience than you had the last time you took this test.’

Instantly both girls became stock still in the face of their boss’s disappointment.

‘I have not finished reading. You will take one step closer to each other. You will not touch each other.’

Anya could almost taste Clara’s skin, it was so close, and the heady aroma of her partner’s snatch was wafting temptingly toward her. Mark resumed the torturously arousing monologue as she battled harder than ever not to grab the woman in front of her…

***

If you want to find out how Anya and Clara came to work for Mark, and what other challenges they have to endure, you can buy The Voyeur from –

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

GooglePlay

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

Let’s focus on: Making Him Wait

Let’s focus on,

Making Him Wait.

Blurb:

Erotica on a canvas of bondage and discipline

Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she’s happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas.

But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge. Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. But, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out!

At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted. Will Maddie’s models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time?

The only way to find out is to wait and see…and the waiting only makes it sweeter!

Buy Now:

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

Here are just some of the lovely reviews for Making Him Wait

‘…The idea for this novel is genius and is so different from any book I’ve read…The whole plot was incredibly imaginative, so clever and exciting to follow and I really enjoyed the longer length of the novel it was brilliant to lose myself in Maddies world completely. The whole story grips you with sexual tension running high throughout and I love Maddie; what a fantastic character she’s so relatable and I love the combination of dominatrix and artist it fits together so well…’  (5 star review) Full Review available at Midnight Boudoir

***

‘Kay Jaybee is an erotic provocateur, a self-proclaimed BDSM specialist, whose well written and carefully crafted narratives focus mainly on exploring the darker side of sexy. Her latest publication, Making Him Wait, is no exception… the premise of this pulse pounding tale centres on the concept of self-discipline and restraint. How long can one suppress their urges and desires? And in the end, does the waiting make it worth the while?

Maddie Templeton, the lead character of this lustful story, thinks so. For her, the waiting game is her favourite game to play. Maddie is not only an artist with paint spattered jeans and charcoal smudged fingers–the creator behind a studio filled with erotic themed masterpieces–she is also an artist of a different kind: an artist of self-control. Upon each canvas, within each sculpture she brilliantly captures and reflects sexual fantasy; a talent that does not go unnoticed by Theo Hunter, a handsome electrician hired to fix the studio’s lighting. Unable to resist the look in Theo’s hazel eyes, Maddie decides to test his resolve, convincing him to pose for her. She then strings him along, building the sexual tension between them through delay and denial, promising him rewards for his patience and good behaviour. But will Maddie’s teasing prove to be more than he can handle? Or is Theo up for the challenge?

The most enjoyable thing about this book is how it continually left me sitting on pins and needles, waiting on the edge of my seat, along with characters in the story, to see what would happen next. It seems Miss Jaybee knows how to tease her audience every bit as well as she teases her deliciously sexy characters. This book is made all the better because the sexual tension has a chance to build itself up first, instead of jumping right into it. Like for Maddie, a bit of waiting for the reader makes the climactic moment that much sweeter. The sex scenes are HOT and very imaginative, nothing same-old, or boring here. They are fantastical enough to create an amazing work of fiction, yet realistic enough to make you wonder at the possibilities.  In short—they will keep you turning the pages, they will make you blush, and they will leave you squirming comfortably, or perhaps uncomfortably in your seat.

My advice, don’t wait to read this book.’ (5 star review) DelovelyOlive for Oysters and Chocolate

‘…This book is very clever. The main characters and the supporting cast are (literally) painted and yet they evolve and emerge as the story progresses, filling the pages with unexpected plots-twists and grenades to become new and exciting pawns moving through the carefully crafted game Kay Jaybee sets out through Maddie and Theo, her main characters…Much of the book takes place within the same four walls, however it is never dull, nor even similar to the previous chapter. The plot manoeuvres around the artwork and sexual tension and desires of the characters brilliantly, with the nature of the paintings, and the poses often becoming blurred with the reality of the erotic encounters. I found the book incredibly imaginative, especially on the artistic front, both drawn, painted, bound and photographed!…I would fully recommend that you all go and buy Making Him Wait, a 5 star novel…. When is the second book out?!…’ (5 star review) Full review at  Miss Lily’s Pad

***

“Making Him Wait” held me captive, made me blush, had me yearning for more
before I was even ready to let the previous chapter go. The story unfolds
dripping with eroticism, every character wantonly submitting to Maddie’s
artistic, commanding eye… Erotica’s “Queen of Kink” has nailed the
freedom of Kink, fearlessly. Kay Jaybee writes with a masterful insight and
sucks her readers into the fascinating domain of domination and submission. A
realm where one’s words must be listened to very carefully and choices are
empowering.’ (5 star review) Rose Caraway reviewing on Amazon.com

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