Kay Jaybee

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Something for the weekend: A Kink a Day 3

It’s time to sit down and enjoy a moment’s full on kink.

Something for the weekend?

A Kink a Day – Book Three

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

The Bride Wore Rubber

If I had been a newspaper journalist reporting on the wedding I would have used the headline, ‘The Bride Wore Rubber.’ Red rubber to be precise. Not in dress form, but sparingly, in the manner befitting the chief slave of an exclusive S&M club owner.

Thin straps of rubber circled her neck and supported a harness, which looped around her ample tits, pushing them up unnaturally high. Her flat stomach was bare, but her legs were tightly encased in rubber stockings, which moulded themselves perfectly to the contours of her body, outlining her firm thighs and slender calves. This skin-tight covering stopped short of her backside, revealing her round tanned arse and her smoothly shaved pussy in all their glory.

There was an elegant dignity about the girl. She was tall, slim, blonde and conventionally beautiful, but there was more to her than that. A quiet strength seemed to emanate from her, a strength that the addition of a red eye-mask, blinding her better than any bridal-veil, didn’t diminish. A leather lead was clipped to a matching choker which was, in turn, secured around her slender neck. The choker, in deference to the occasion, was studded with three small diamonds.

As the time for the ceremony drew near, I stood amongst the oddly semi-dressed assemblage of guests. They had broken into two clusters, one on each side of the club’s dancehall, leaving a makeshift aisle running down its centre.

At the end of this aisle, awaiting his slave-bride, stood Michael. I don’t know his surname, but I do know he is a very powerful man, with powerful friends, who like to play dangerous games. He gave off an air of quite arrogant control as he surveyed the scene before him. He, unlike his guests, was wearing full wedding regalia, a grey morning suit, cravat and top hat. Handsome in a rugby player kind of way, Michael stood head and shoulders above his best-man, whose chest was bare, and whose black leather trousers squeaked slightly as he paced up and down the aisle, waiting edgily for the procession to begin.

lead

From my privileged place at the side of the crowd, I glanced towards the doors. The increased noise of activity coming from behind them indicated that the bridal party was almost ready. I looked towards the rather uncomfortable reverend, who was waiting for what, I’m sure he hoped, would be a swift service.

I tensed, as did every guest in the room, as Mendelssohn’s Wedding March struck up over the clubs sound system, and the hall doors swung open.

The immediate whoops and cat calls from the overheated guests showed their instant approval of the party’s attire.

Holding the bride’s lead was a large man, who like the groom, wore a morning suit. A whisper from the crowd informed me that he was the brides’ future brother-in-law, and instantly I could see the family likeness. The solid chin, the square frame to the body, the arrogant dark blue eyes.

The bride followed him, blindly, sedately, humbly, on all fours. She crawled along, her breasts swinging beneath her, her arse burning with sharp red wields, that had obviously been administered by a whip only moments before. In addition, the bride had received an extra facet to her outfit. A string of red Thai beads had been threaded into her anus. I could only imagine how she must feel, debased and humiliated before this mass of largely familiar faces.

Two bridesmaids completed the group. Both similarly bedecked in skimpy white rubber harnesses and leggings, their faces were solemn and bowed. These were Michael’s other two personal slaves. I wondered if they were jealous of their colleague’s status, or if they were relieved that it wasn’t them blinded and on all fours in front of the entire club membership.

As the bride reached the makeshift altar, the crowd bunched forward, each person eager to watch the ceremony at close quarters.

I slipped to the front of the room, manoeuvring my way to a space behind the vicar, where a hired, wide-eyed, camcorder operator already stood, his mouth open in disbelief.

On reaching her Master, the brides blindfold was eased up, and she kissed his shoes, as the lead was passed to the groom. 

Michael looked down approvingly at his slave for a second, before allowing her to stand next to him. She rose with amazingly controlled poise, making sure the beads didn’t have a chance to escape from their intimate confinement, and therefore denying her intended the excuse to publicly punish her.

roses

The vicar began the service, and with what seemed an alarming adherence to tradition in the circumstances, the wedding speeches and vows began, just as if we’d been stood in any church or registry office in the country. I listened intently over the background buzz of the guest’s subdued chatter. The bride’s name was Mary. I wondered if her husband would ever use it, or if she’d be called Slave for the rest of her life.

When it was time for the groom to pass his slave her wedding ring my stomach contracted as, rather than a ring, the best man passed the groom what looked like a silver staple gun, but what I soon discovered was actually a piercing device.

The expression on the bride’s face showed that she hadn’t expected that. I watched intently as the groom bent and sucked hard at Mary’s left nipple, pulling it with his teeth until it stood proud and firm. Then on a pre-arranged signal, one of the bridesmaids stepped forward and wiped a small cloth, presumably of antiseptic, over the extant nipple. Once that had been applied, Michael wasted no time before putting the gun in place, piercing and ringing his wife like a chattel.

The bride’s cries of pain as the gold band was permanently secured onto her were partially drowned out by the booming voice of the clergyman saying, ‘by the giving and receiving of this ring, I now pronounce you Man and Wife, Master and Slave.’

I scribbled frantically into my notebook, as, like every eye in the room, I observed the silent tear streaked face of the bride. She was turned slowly, so that the whole room could see her newly swollen tit with its golden accessory. The congregation cheered manically as the vicar raised his arms and cried, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’

Nodding his thanks to the vicar who hastily departed from the room, Michael turned his bride to face him, and lifting her bowed head to his, kissed her tenderly, so tenderly that I wondered whether there was a genuine feeling of love there. This thought only lasted for a second, as he roughly pushed Mary to her knees, making the bead tail clatter as it hit the floor.

Michael called in a voice of authority, ‘Ladies and Gentleman, the wedding party will adjourn to my private study, you guests may amuse yourself freely, and then, in one hour, dinner will be served.’

His last few words were almost buried beneath the violent eruption of noise from the dance floor, as an instant orgy exploded around me. It took only seconds for groups and couples of men and women, women and women, and men and men, to be pushed up against one another, mouths, tits, hands and cocks everywhere.

lips

I however, had been instructed to follow the wedding party.

When I reached the large old fashioned style study, I was offered a leather chair in the corner of the room, alongside my still stunned filming partner. My breathing had become rather shallow, and I was all too aware that the events I’d witnessed had had a rather unprofessional effect on me. I attempted to compose myself, for I was sure that things were about to get worse…

****

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

Don’t forget you can find all three books from the series here – mybook.to/AKinkaDayTrilogy 

Happy reading

Kay xx

Something for the weekend: Wednesday on Thursday

While I’m away teaching a smutty writing workshop at Eroticon in London, I thought I’d leave you with the prologue from my sexy MFF menage novella, Wednesday on Thursday.

Blurb

There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.

Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the café stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.

The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.

It’s totally harmless…

…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.

After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.

Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.

A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…

***

Prologue

Sat at her usual table, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her latte, Wednesday began her daily cycle of speculation. Who was he? Did he come into the cafe at other times and fixate on other customers? What was going through his mind while he observed her so intently? Why didn’t it bother her?

Most men noticed Wednesday’s chest first; some opted for checking out her arse. A rare few went further with their assessment, and engaged her in conversation before they tried their luck.

But not this man; the one she referred to as the coffee guy.

With a double shot espresso in his hand, the first time he’d set eyes on Wednesday, the coffee guy had started with an unashamed assessment of her chest, then, over a period of several weeks, studied her from the top of her head to the toes of her shoes.

Instinct told Wednesday to avoid the coffee guy at all costs. The way he examined her with his enquiring midnight blue eyes was so unsettling. And yet…

Whenever Wednesday walked into the cafe she frequented during her lunch break, the coffee guy would be there. From the moment she took her first step through the door, his focus would shift from his drink to the queue of customers, where it would become fixed upon her.

She thought she’d imagined it at first, but as time had gone by, Wednesday had become increasingly convinced it really was her he was watching.

It had crossed her mind that maybe she should be scared, that this man could be some sort of voyeuristic stalker. But Wednesday didn’t feel threatened; just intrigued and aroused, although she wasn’t sure why.

Only once had he spoken to her.

A swapped lunch break with her friend Carol had placed Wednesday behind the coffee guy in the queue.

Her coffee had already been in her hand when he’d stepped back and accidentally knocked into her, spilling the beverage down her front in a breathtaking cascade of wet heat.

Wednesday had watched helplessly as the liquid seeped through her black shirt, ran down her purple pencil skirt, and travelled on an unstoppable route into her boots.

Too stunned to talk, she’d tugged the wet material of her shirt outwards, not caring that she might be giving the world a generous view of her cleavage.

‘Wednesday, are you okay?’ The barista behind the counter had rushed to her side, pushing a wad of paper napkins into her hands. ‘You can use the staffroom if you like. There are spare T-shirts in there. Help yourself.’

Feeling like an unwilling contestant in a wet T-shirt competition, Wednesday had rushed towards the door marked Staff Only.

It was only once she’d walked into the staffroom that she realised the man who’d caused the accident had followed her.

‘Your name is Wednesday?’

‘Yes.’

‘I find that rather pleasing.’

Then, without a word of apology for ruining her clothes and potentially scalding her, the coffee guy had disappeared.

All Wednesday had been left with was the lingering blaze of his navy blue eyes, which had heated her flesh just as much as the spilt drink…

 

 

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wednesday-Thursday-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01N5SOMT0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485329803&sr=8-1&keywords=Wednesday+on+Thursday+Kay+Jaybee

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5SOMT0?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

***

Something for the weekend: Take Control

This weekend I’m taking a another dip into Take Control .

Dinner with Tess anyone?

 

Blurb

Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission is a collection of toe curlingly sexy tales of bondage and female submission from the pen of best selling writer Kay Jaybee. From a spankingly delicious Dinner With Tess, to a Staged public sex fantasy, an unforgettable alfresco hosing in Deluged, a kinky scientific Experiment, and the realisation of a long held threesome fantasy in The Necklace, Take Control offers five bite sized stories that will satisfy any lover quality erotica.

 

Here’s an extract from Dinner With Tess

Tess risked a glance in the stranger’s direction. She felt her pulse quicken anxiously as he noticed her furtive look, and with slow purposeful movements, approached. When he told her his name was Jon, and that he was going to buy her a drink, Tess’s mouth hadn’t been able to find the words to say anything, so he’d simply gone and fetched one anyway.

From that moment, she had been ensnared, hypnotised by Jon’s strength, his quiet authority, and the promise of an undiscovered lust, which seemed to reflect back at her from his deep shining eyes.

Tess had spent the early part of the morning in the kitchen. This was to be the first time Jon introduced her to his friends, and Tess had suggested she cook for them. A roast chicken perhaps? Something warm and welcoming to greet them on their return from the photography club meeting they were attending. Jon had smiled his sexy smile and agreed that a trussed-up bird sounded exactly like something they’d all appreciate. Tess had been thrilled when he congratulated her idea by fucking her unceremoniously against the kitchen door.

She’d never met anyone like him before. Jon seemed consumed by lust, and, even though it had been almost a month since they’d met, Tess still found it hard to believe she was the centre of his attention.

As he was obviously a dominant man, she had been quickly awarded the role of submissive; and to her surprise, and perhaps aided by her natural reticence, had discovered that she rather liked being told how to behave, what to wear, and what to say.

Jon’s laughing voice echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen as Tess went to greet his friends. ‘Here she is!’ Jon’s arm swept around his girlfriend. ‘Tess, meet Jack and Ed, my friends from the club.’

‘Hello.’ She spoke clearly, trying to cover her shyness. As she shook their hands, Tess couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable by the way they looked at her. It was as if they were assessing her in some way, and she suddenly felt very aware of the shortness of her denim skirt and the thinness of her white cotton blouse.

‘Most lovely.’ Jack nodded approvingly at Jon.

‘She’ll do well.’ Ed’s eyes x-rayed Tess as he spoke.

A private shiver shot up Tess’s spine. ‘Do well for what?…’

****

If you’d like to find out what happens to Tess, you can buy Take Control from all good e-retailers, including-

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HYI8BHA http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00HYI8BHA

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

 

 

 

Something for the weekend: A Sticky Situation

A little erotic romance for you this weekend. Time to indulge in some conference time kink with A Sticky Situation.Blurb-

 

If there is a paving stone to trip over, or a drink to knock over, then Sally Briers will trip over it or spill it. Yet somehow Sally is the successful face of marketing for a major pharmaceutical company; much to the disbelief of her new boss, Cameron James.

Forced to work together on a week-long conference in an Oxford hotel, Sally is dreading spending so much time with arrogant new boy Cameron; whose presence somehow makes her even clumsier than usual.

Cameron on the other hand, just hopes that he’ll be able to stay professional, and keep his irrational desire to lick up all the accidently split food and drink that is permanently to be found down Sally’s temptingly curvy body, all to himself.

It could be a very long week- unless Cameron can find a way of making Sally slop so much of her after show champagne, that he has no choice but to march her off and relieve her of her sodden clothing… He is sure that, if he could find a way to stop Sally resenting him taking her previous bosses job, then they could enjoy no end of sticky situations together…

This novella was inspired by my own total and non-stop clumsiness- and habit of dropping toast and marmalade down my front…

As the shower burnt its jet of water into his head and shoulders, Cameron scrubbed his body furiously with soap, trying to wash away all thoughts of Sally. It had been years since he’d let a woman get to him like this. What worried him most was that he didn’t just want to sleep with her. He actually wanted her to like him. This was new territory for Cameron James. As he stood there, beneath the steaming deluge, he couldn’t stop himself from envisaging exactly what he’d like to do with her.

He saw her bent at the end of his bed, waiting for him to kiss her firm arse.

He visualised her lying on her back, her legs wide open. Sally beaming up at him as he lowered himself onto her; her chest swollen and her nipples hard as he ate them, his thick cock sinking into her moist channel.

Cameron could almost taste her as he felt his dick go rigid where he stood, droplets of water cascading off it as, with eyes firmly closed, her saw his mouth coming to Sally’s indescribably soft mound. In his mind he drank from her, the heated water of the shower combining with her liquid, sending shockwaves of pleasure through them both as she tangled her fingers in his hair. Sally was moaning quietly, one hand leaving his head as she squeezed herself, playing her own fingertips across her beautiful almond tinted nipples.

Steadying one hand on the cubicle wall, Cameron’s fist came to his erection as his thoughts became more graphic, more urgent. He pumped slowly at first, as he saw Sally crouched next to him, the light pressure of her small palms pushing him to his feet so she could wrap her lips around his shaft. At first, she’d simply lick the tip enquiringly, as though she was trying a new flavoured ice cream for the very first time. Then, she’d speed up, lapping him with extended strokes, punctuating each move with a kiss to his balls; her nails discovering each inch of his hips and thighs.

Cameron’s whole frame shuddered, his wrist moving faster and faster along his length, the water almost forgotten as it pounded into his bent neck and ran down his back. Nothing mattered but the images in his head and the action of his hand. Sally had engulfed his cock in her mouth now. Sucking and teasing him out, almost stretching his pole, she was drawing him into her, until he was securely within her throat.

He could feel his orgasm rising, his brain flashing with differing shots of Sally as he wanked, of her lips at his dick, of his face between her legs, or her wet dress, clinging to the outline of her curves so temptingly, of how he’d marvelled at his ability not to grab her in the lift and tell her she was driving him nuts, and that he was a nice guy really. Of him slurping fallen food from her neck, of kissing her mouth, her breasts, her thighs; his hands everywhere as he stared into her beautiful emerald eyes.

As spunk spattered against the side of the shower unit’s tiles, Cameron’s eyes flew back open, his chest letting out a pent up exhalation of air via a guttural groan through his throat. ‘Enough,’ he panted into the small rectangular space. ‘Time to stop dreaming and actually do something about this!’

****

Or you can buy A Sticky Situation from Amazon UK, Amazon.com, and all other e-book and paperback retailers.

Happy Reading

Kay xx

 

Something for the weekend: A Kink a Day Book Three

It’s time to wind down from the working week and look forward to some time out. This weekend why not indulge in a little kink? A Kink a Day: Book Three to be exact!

Here’a an extract from the first story…

Brushed

‘Brushes?’

Leah stared down at the expensive gift wrap she’d just carefully undone.

This was the first birthday she’d celebrated with Callum, and Leah had expected something special. In fact, he’d promised her something special- something personal. The way in which he’d said it had made Leah assume she was going to receive some lingerie or maybe some sort of sex toy; a gift they could definitely enjoy together.

In her lap however, placed neatly side by side in a red silk lined wooden box lay, not the latest high-tech vibrator or a set of lacy underwear, but three different sized brushes. Backed with polished oak wood, one looked like a posh scrubbing brush, one was a pincushion style hairbrush, and the last was rather like a toothbrush, but was just a little too thin for that function. With its long slim wooden handle, the only use Leah could think of for it was to clean the spout of a teapot.

‘Yes. I really have bought you some brushes for your 28th birthday.’ Gazing over the breakfast hotel’s table into his girlfriend’s eyes, Callum saw a frisson of confused desire flicker across her face as the added, ‘They are however, very special brushes.’

Callum’s dark eyes had taken on an even deeper chestnut than they had done last night, when he’d made love to Leah with a thorough mind blowing fuck that had screamed professionalism, and left her gasping with the type of a blissful body shock that she’d never experienced before. ‘I promise that these brushes will turn out to be the best birthday present you have ever received- ever.’

***

Stories included in this anthology include, The Bride Wore Rubber, The Cave, On Show and more…

Blurb:

Eight hot erotic fantasies – one for each night of the week – and a spare…

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

Available from:

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

All three A Kink a Day books are out now!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy reading everyone- ENJOY!

Kay xx

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