Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

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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

Something for the Weekend: Not Her Type at Christmas

For this week’s #somethingfortheweekend, I thought I’d share my favourite of the many Christmas shenanigans  I’ve written. The episode in question appears in my kinky courier tale,

Not Her Type: Erotica Adventures with a Delivery Man

Not Her Type

Blurb – When Jenny’s regular delivery man, John, reveals that she has become the centre 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 it didn’t happen?
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’s only one problem: John really isn’t Jenny’s type. For one thing, he’s a man…

 

…The knock at her door made her jump, and Jenny physically had to restrain herself from running to see who the caller was. So what if it’s one o’clock? It’s Christmas Eve, he isn’t working, and he won’t come. It’ll be my next door neighbor with some mince pies or something. Her pulse thudded violently in her chest as Jenny moved to the door, convinced that the hope she couldn’t prevent from rising in her chest was about to leave her disappointed.

The silhouette through the glass panel in her front door was unmistakeable.

“I was just passing.” The shine in John’s deep brown eyes told her this was a blatant lie.

A wide smile crossed her face as Jenny let him in, “I thought you might be away for Christmas or something.”

“I thought you might be too.”

A feeling of awkwardness came over Jenny. Despite everything they had done together, there was nevertheless so much they didn’t know about each other. She felt almost shy as she spoke, “I was going to text, but I didn’t want to get in the way of your life or anything.”

“Same here. I thought you might be with family.” A large, rough hand raked through the back of her hair, easing out the knots, sending little currents of craving down Jenny’s neck and into her chest. Then, slipping a hand into hers, John steered Jenny toward the living room, swiftly banishing any uncertainty.

Gesturing to the middle of the floor, he said, “Last minute wrapping?”

“A few bits for the neighbour’s kids.” She could feel her pulse accelerating as he looked at her, “My family all live abroad, it’s just me in the UK.”

“That’s a big roll of paper for those little gifts.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the way he spoke or the look on his face that gave him away, but Jenny knew what was going to happen before he moved. In seconds, John had stripped her naked, and Jenny was being enveloped in large swathes of jolly, silver-star covered gift-wrap.

“Don’t move, and don’t speak, okay?”

Nodding, she tried not to laugh as John wrestled with the dispenser, before he cut off length after length of sticky tape, which he used to secure the paper tighter and tighter around her. Jenny’s arms became pinned to her sides, and her legs were clamped together as if she was some sort of bizarrely festive Egyptian mummy.Stepping back to admire his work, John’s face creased with hunger, and Jenny’s urge to giggle dissolved. She could feel her breasts chafing against the smooth, figure hugging covering, and suddenly she realized how desperately she wanted them to be free so that John could hold them, suck them, hit them…do whatever he wanted with them.

John began hunting around the room for something. Jenny however, could only wonder how long it would be before she could suck his shaft, or feel him slide between her legs. She wanted to speak, to ask him to kiss her, but she’d promised not to talk, and didn’t want to distract him from whatever he was going to do next.

He stood so close to Jenny that his dark eyes tunnelled into hers. He peeled his clothes off at a speed that made the lightning disposal of Jenny’s garments seem positively drawn out.

Attempting to distract herself from the need to speak, Jenny traced her eyes over the line of his chest, the hairs so soft and inviting, his tattoos just begging for fresh examination, and his cock, hard and firm, pointed at Jenny accusingly, as if making its owner as horny as hell was a crime.

Shuffling her feet unsteadily on the carpet, she watched as he began to unwind the satin purple ribbon she’d spent ages draping around her Christmas tree. Her throat turned the texture of sandpaper as she comprehended the meaning behind the devious expression in John’s eyes. He brought the two-meter garland toward her.

Naked and emanating power, John began to wind the ribbon around her neck in a large bow. Picking up a pair of scissors from the floor, he cut off the remaining strip of fabric, “I started thinking about doing this last night. I even have some rolls of gift-wrap in the van. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw this lot waiting for me.”

Wide eyed, Jenny saw her film courier twist part of the ribbon around his arm, before approaching her. Again, she guessed what he was about to do, and she tensed as the first bind of the silky material went over her eyes and around the back of her neck, trapping her hair.

Mewling into the purple darkness, and deprived of the sight of his gorgeous body, Jenny felt John’s fingers fiddling with the knot behind her head. Then his hands came to her elbows. “You look incredible. Are you okay?”

She nodded awkwardly; glad he was holding her, afraid she would topple over at any moment.

“Good girl. You remembered not to talk,” John’s breath tickled her neck as he said, “You are, without doubt, the most tempting Christmas present I’ve ever seen.”

As he spoke, her breasts, already swollen with their need to be touched, became taut and hot, and pussy juice began to leak along her inner thighs.

The pressure of his palm as he pushed it against her wrapped-up mound made Jenny stagger so much that John had to steady her with this free arm. Moaning as his fingers encased and probed her enclosed clit, Jenny’s liquid flowed freer, soaking the paper, turning the crackling sound it had initially made into a wet, squelchy rustle.

“What a hot, little bad girl you are.”

Jenny felt the layers of wrapping paper between her legs start to mulch as John kneaded and pinched her flesh. Then, with a grunt of frustration, he lifted her off her feet and laid her on the floor. An urgent hand came to her right breast, kneading her tit, creasing and crumpling the gift-wrap.

Abruptly John stopped, his weight lifted from her, and a sense of bereavement consumed her body. She had no idea how she managed not to plead for more.

The purple ribbon over her eyes became darker, and Jenny realized he must have turned the lights off. Then the chirpy Christmas tunes that had been playing in the background disappeared as the radio was clicked off. Silence filled the room. Uncertainty crept through Jenny’s mind, and a drizzle of perspiration trickled between the packaging and the back of her neck. Her ears strained to pick up a sound, but she couldn’t hear anything, not even her man’s breathing.

Time seemed to pass slowly as Jenny lay like a fallen statue, painfully aware of the friction of the saturated paper as it clung to her pussy. Every part of her body ached for a continuation of the attention it had been receiving. The ribbon against her eyes felt tighter than ever, but Jenny began to wish it was between her teeth, gagging as well as blinding her, for there was no way she could stay quiet for much longer. Clamping her jaw, Jenny was determined not to break the rules, but the more she thought, the more her resolve began to crack.

“John?”…

****

Well, I’d better let you go now- you are probably in a hurry to go and buy a few rolls of extra long gift wrap…

If you’d like to read about Jenny and John’s courier kink, or see what happened next on Christmas Eve, then you can buy Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man from-

Amazon UK-  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184 

Amazon.com- http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184

****

Happy reading!

Kay xx

Something for the Weekend: Christmas Kink

This week I thought I’d help nudge you towards a touch of festive spirit – Kay kink style!

#somethingfortheweekend…

There is something special about a Christmas story, be it smutty or otherwise, and I just love writing them. Hence, I decided to write my festive story collection, Christmas Kink. It was tricky wondering what seasonal happenings I could twist into a toe curlingly sexy tales.

What could I possibly write about…how about a naughty fairy, a Christmas stable, cake mix, a little red dress, a great deal of tinsel, and a sexy winter woodland adventure…?

Here’s a little taster from If You Go Down To The Woods Tonight…

…Standing silently in the bitter December night air, Freya felt her blood pump in time to the echo of a female orgasm that was whispering through the frost-covered trees. She didn’t want to ask Liam how he knew about this place.

Grasping her hand, Liam pulled Freya deeper into the woods, towards the background beat of howls. Weaving through a mix of pine, oak and ash trees, they scrambled halfway up a steep bank and stopped dead.

Freya stole a glance at her boyfriend’s face, and saw an expression etched with the basest desire she’d ever witnessed.

Now they were closer, the noise that had sounded like the muted cry of wolves felt more ethereal than animal as it sang through the treetops around them. Even though she’d seen nothing yet, Freya’s imagination had done an excellent job of filling in the blanks. She could easily visualise the images that went with the sound of a woman sighing, masculine grunting, and the overriding cacophony of groans, yelps and pleading coming from the other side of the bank. It was as if all the erotic want in the world was bubbling before them in an audible cauldron of lust.

Two nights ago, tied to Liam’s bed and having just enjoyed a thorough fucking, Freya had laughed when he’d informed her he had arranged a very special Christmas present for her. Liam claimed he’d secured her the chance to fulfil every filthy, sexy, dirty, and dangerous fantasy she’d ever had. Freya had thought he was just saying that to turn her on further. She hadn’t taken his claim seriously for a single moment. Until now…

Speaking hurriedly under his breath, Liam said, ‘Okay, so the sounds you can hear are coming from the members of The Quarter, and these are their rules. If you stay on the bank, no one will touch you. You can be a voyeur to your heart’s content, but if you go over the bank and walk amongst them, you are fair game.’

Freya frowned. ‘The Quarter?’

‘They are a specialist group that meet here once each season. This is their Christmas gathering.’

Freya said nothing as she glanced towards Liam’s crotch. His erection was trying to break out of his trousers. She thought fast. If they walked three paces up the side of the bank, they’d be able to view the bacchanal activities below. If they took another three paces further down the other side, then they’d have no choice but to join in.

The shine to Liam’s eyes told Freya that if she decided not to step down into the oval area, which had once been a small hillfort, then he’d fall on her there and then. An option which Freya knew would be good—more than good—but the mews of simmering arousal coming from below were taunting her; enticing her onwards, and driving her further up the bank, pulling Liam after her.

With her heart hammering, excited apprehension gripped Freya as she stood on the very top of the grassy slope…”

You can find out what happens next, and enjoy the five other kinky festive capers in Christmas Kink by buying it from –

Smashwords- https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/933339

Happy reading

Kay xx

Let’s focus on: The Retreat

Let’s focus on…

The Retreat

Book Two of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy

Blurb

Just as Jess Sanders is adjusting to her new life as the submissive in residence on the fifth floor of The Fables Hotel, her employer, Mrs Peters, makes a startling announcement. She has agreed to loan Jess, and her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to one of their most demanding clients; Mr David Proctor.

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

As Jess comes to terms with the techniques of The Retreat’s overpowering dominatrix, Lady Tia, she discovers that Proctor’s motives may not be all they seem. Just who or what is Fairtasia? And why does Jess feel like she’s walked into a warped fairy tale?

In order to get back to the fifth floor, Jess is going to have to be far more than just a perfect submissive…

You can find the second of Miss Jess Sander’s adventures in submission on all good ebook sites, including-

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

Here are some of the lovely things my readers have said about The Retreat

“…Omg. This book was awesome. Loved every page. Author kept my interest from the first page to the last. Characters were well written and the plot was exciting. I definitely recommend this book!!” Amazon.com

“This book is very entertaining and the link with fairytale is unique…I also enjoy the tug of war between the two hotels. I like the sex scenes too.” Goodreads

“…We’re all familiar with Fairytales . . . whether from distant memories of wonder and enchantment from our own childhood, or attempting to stimulate imagination and excitement in reading to our own children at bedtime.  But never . . . ever . . . could Hans Christian or the Grim Brothers have imagined such tales as those told between the covers of “The Retreat”…I’ve previously described authoress Kay Jaybee’s first instalment in her trilogy of submission and dominance, “The Perfect Submissive”, as “the most arousing and inspiring” book I’ve ever read. So I’d awaited this second instalment with huge anticipation . . . and expectation.

I’d wondered what the future held for Jess and what fearsome, and exciting, tasks she’d be asked to perform. Surely the imagination of her mistress had already reached the limit of all bounds of reasonable possibility?  But Kay Jaybee is clearly a woman apart . . . and the new scenarios and surroundings of a mysterious castle in the Scottish highlands seems the perfect setting to unleash yet more of her wild and wicked imagination.

My heroine Jess finds herself caught in a whirlwind of new masters and new submissive partners . . . and set a series of new tasks and new challenges at every twist and turn of the castles cold and unwelcoming corridors.  Just as with “The Perfect Submissive” each new chapter of “The Retreat” had me tingling with wonder and excitement (rather than enchantment in this instance) at Ms Jaybee’s extremely vivid imagination. The tension builds throughout towards Fairtasias climatic finale-ball . . . quite unlike those bedtime stories of times long gone by!!!

Without wishing to divulge too much of the plot and positions required, and enacted here, there are some arousingly descriptive moments which had my pulse racing to the sort of dangerous levels I’ve not experienced since reading . . . and re-reading . . . the pages of “TPS”.  But, more than just simple lust and eroticism, Kay Jaybee’s story has that unusual skill of engaging her characters somehow into ones pysche . . . I wanted to share each new challenge with Jess, worried for her strength of will, worried just how that final chapter would unravel. A Fairytale end to the ball . . . or will the wicked Witchtress prevail???  And that, quite simply, is something that I don’t often find in my other reading, not just in erotica (and you know how much I enjoy reading naughty stories! LOL!!!), but in “normal” books . . . or normal media. . . . visit Kay Jaybee online to marvel at and devour some of the most arousing erotica I think you will ever find!!!” – Modesty Ablaze

“…Twists and turns around every corner…. I have waited along time to finally have time to finish The Retreat and I totally love it …. This makes you look at fairy tales in a new light . kept me on the edge of my seat from start to finish, just cant wait for pt3 to find out what happens next.” Goodreads

“A dark and delicious follow up book to The Perfect Submissive. This time our heroine Jess, along with Miss Sarah, faces yet more tasks set by the nasty David Proctor that we met briefly in book one but nothing is as it seems. The story twists and turns and the steamy sex scenes are enough to send your pulse racing a million times a minute! I loved the twisted take on the fairy tales and can’t wait to read the final book in this outstanding trilogy.” Amazon

A joint review for The Perfect Submissive and The Retreat

“…The characters are fascinating with a depth that you don’t get often.  They each have various facets to their personalities that make them unique and realistic.  They are compelling and one moment you will love them and the next moment hate the same character.  This is true throughout both books as we are introduced to new characters in The Retreat while keeping a continuation with a couple of characters from The Perfect Submissive… Kay Jaybee does a great job of involving us in the plight of various characters  especially the  main character, Jess…”

Illustrious Illusions.

Something for the Weekend: The Voyeur

Why not escape into a little kink, and enjoy #somethingfortheweekend with my BDSM menage romance  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

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