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Sequel-ing – A Guest Post by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee)

Sequel-ing – The Retreat (The Perfect Submissive Trilogy- Part Two)

A huge thank you to Lucy for inviting me to her brilliant blog today, to talk about my recently re-released novel The Retreat– (Part Two of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.)

To be honest, even though many years have passed since I first put finger to keyboard, and wrote The Retreat, I’m still in something of a state of shock that I ever created it. I never dreamt I’d ever be asked to write a follow up story to any of my books, let alone be requested to pen a trilogy!!

The feeling of joy I felt when I realised that I wasn’t the only one who loved the adventures Miss Jess Sanders experienced in The Fifth Floor (previously known as The Perfect Submissive) was something I’ll never forget.

In the first book of the trilogy, The Fifth Floor, Jess arrives on the page as a naive young woman with a future awaiting her that she could never have previously imagined- a future as a professional submissive working in the Fables Hotel, Oxfordshire.

When we rejoin Jess in The Retreat, her submissive status has been established, and she has just begun to accept her new role in life when…

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…

Taken away from Fables by David Proctor, Jess and her mistress, Miss Sarah, soon find themselves in a strange mixed up fairytale. They have been told they are heading to Scotland to help train a young woman called Alisha to be a submissive for The Retreat – but as they’re journey begins, it soon becomes clear that there is much more going on beneath the surface…and Proctor has another agenda altogether.

Here’s an extract to whet your appetite- Jess and Miss Sarah are on a private plane, travelling from London to Aberdeen.

… Alisha, who held a Red Riding Hood-style wicker basket, curtseyed towards her employer, proffering it in his direction. As he swished back the chequered tablecloth that had been laid across its top, the broad smile that crossed Proctor’s face plunged Jess’s heart to her feet.

The brown bodice of her dress squeezed Jess’s chest up and out, so that her cleavage was displayed to its best advantage. Her nipples were only just hidden by the keenness of its elasticated top, which was so tight she could already feel its pattern imprinting on her skin. The skirt, on the other hand, which was cut into strips of wispy netting, only just covered her backside. If Cinderella had worn an outfit like this when she was cleaning, then with every stretch and bend to dust or sweep she would have shown off her arse to perfection.

Miss Sarah, positively regal in her ankle-length, puff-skirted dress, also had her breasts compressed to the point of popping out from its faux satin material. The thunderous expression on her face, however, was far from the serene visage normally associated with fairy tale princesses.

‘Alisha, I think you could learn a great deal from these women.’ David took the basket from her hands and extracted a strip of red ribbon. ‘Use this to secure Miss Sanders’ wrists. She will put them together for you without argument.’

Mindful of Mrs Peters’ final instruction – Do Fables and yourself proud – Jess obediently placed her palms together in front of her waist, and watched Alisha wrap the wide ribbon around her wrists with rather more expertise than expected. Not her first time at doing this, then …

‘Miss Sarah, to me, please.’

The dominatrix, every inch of her displaying a haughty indifference to the men watching, moved to Proctor’s side.

Rummaging in the basket, purely for effect Jess thought, David produced what he’d been searching for, and held it up like a trophy. ‘Miss Sarah, I’d like you to teach Alisha how to use this to bring your submissive to the point of ecstasy, but slowly. Make it last. Make her wait.’

Jess, her blood pumping with the speed of a delayed train trying to make up time, felt her throat close on itself as her superior lifted a heavily frosted cupcake from Proctor’s palm. Of course, what else would Red Riding Hood have in her basket?

‘Kane, I know they didn’t impress you before, but this will be good.’

Jess didn’t know whether to be flattered or bemused by Proctor’s faith in her. No one had ever tried to stimulate her with confectionery before, and she wished her brain hadn’t already filled itself with visions of Miss Sarah rubbing the icing star that was stuck in the top of the cake over her breasts in a steady, rotating motion.

Obviously wanting to get this charade over with as soon as possible, Miss Sarah took charge. ‘Alisha, if you’d step this way, I will talk you through what I do, as I do it.’

In a tone that brooked no argument from anyone, Miss Sarah went on. ‘Turn around, Miss Sanders. Lift your tethered hands and hold onto the back of the chair before you.’

Jess had been so sure that it would be her chest that would be the focus of the cake’s attention that the order to turn sent a flare of disappointment rippling through her breasts as they were pressed against the back of the leather chair.

‘Alisha, I require your assistance as well as your complete attention for this lesson. As you can see, Miss Sanders’ skirt is cut into many lengths, so just lifting it up in one piece is not an option. Use one of your hands to hold all the strips of netting out of the way.’

As Alisha’s fingers gently gathered up all the stray pieces of skirt, Jess felt the heady frisson of unfamiliar digits holding the fabric in the small of her back, and four sets of eyes levelling themselves on her posterior.

‘Thank you, Alisha. Now, observe.’ Miss Sarah contained her smile as Jess’s backside quivered a fraction at the first touch of the stiff, sharp-edged, icing star. Trailing it in a misshapen figure of eight from one buttock to the other, using the anus as the cross-over point, Miss Sarah noted how each pass forced Jess to focus harder on not fidgeting her feet.

‘If you look closely, Alisha, you will see different points on the arse produce different reactions from our submissive, as does the amount of pressure applied and the manner in which we hold the cake.’

Miss Sarah swivelled the cake around in her fingers, so she was now holding its top and pushing the sponge base against Jess’s butt. ‘I suspect, however, that I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.’

Not giving Alisha the chance to reply herself, David interjected sharply, his brusque tone betraying his own arousal. ‘This is all very new to Alisha, if you would continue.’

Filing his overreaction away to be considered later, Miss Sarah kept her attention on the younger woman. ‘Now that I have flipped the cake around, if I press it while keeping it moving, the crumbs will leave a trail across her flesh. Get the amount of pressure correct and the cake won’t be destroyed.

‘You will also notice, if you get in close, that despite being extremely horny, Miss Sanders isn’t moving or making a sound. She has, after all, been very well trained. She is diverting her feelings away from the climax she craves by the clenching of her toes, and the digging of her fingernails into the chair against which she is leaning. Do you see?…’

I hope you enjoyed that mini snippet. A hint of fairytale before Jess’s life becomes really complicated, and the fairytales take on a far darker tone.

You can buy The Retreat from all good retailers including-

AmazonUK
AmazonUS
AmazonAU
AmazonCA
Barnes&Noble
iBooksUK
iBooksUS
Kobo
Smashwords

(The Perfect Submissive Trilogy does not have to be read in order, but you will get more out of Jess’s story if you read The Fifth Floor before The Retreat)

Happy reading.

Many thanks.

Kay xx

*****

Bio

Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO

Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.

Kay Jaybee has over 180 erotica publications including, The Retreat- Book2: The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2018), Making Him Wait (Sinful Press, 2018), The Fifth Floor- Book1;The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2017), Wednesday on Thursday, (KDP, 2017), The Collector (KDP, 2016), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress), 2013.

Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

You can follow Kay on –

Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee

Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html

Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane www.jennykane.co.uk  and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash www.jenniferash.co.uk

Q&A with Monique Roffey (@MoniqueRoffey13)

  1. What is tantric sex?

‘Tan’ is the tantric word meaning to expand. Tantra means to expand into consciousness, into awareness. Tantric sex is mindful, conscious sex, it’s about being more fully connected with your partner, mind, heart and genitals. Lots of touch comes into tantra too. I love being touched.  Everybody does, and we don’t touch each other enough.

  1. Describe a turning point in your sexual journey.

Having my first tantric massage in a tent in the hills above Barcelona. It was 2008. The massage lasted hours and the pleasure was deep and replenishing and I had my first full body orgasm; after that I never went back to any other kind of sex.

  1. What is eco sex?

Ha, there is tons of sexual energy out here in the atmosphere, in the universe, in nature, ever felt a charge from a tree? Lain under a standing stone? Eco sex takes the energy from nature to charge up the entire system of chakkras in the body. My favourite things are standing stones, there is one in Cornwall which juts out at a 45% angle to the earth, if you lie under it long enough it will give you a tremendous orgasm.

  1. What have been the sexiest moments in your life?

I had a lover who was a sex worker, and he set the bar high. Most sexy moments always happen when no one is trying to get anything; they happen in trust and if you are happy, too.  They happen if you are relaxed. This ex lover had spent years learning sex skills; he was a professional, and my sexiest moments have been with him.

  1. What is sex magick?

Sex magic combines sigils or magical symbols, often using letters and bodily fluids, with the powerful energy of orgasm to direct wishes and intentions out there into the universe. I’ve tried this with some luck, here and there, and I believe there’s something there. Mostly I like the sigils; they can be beautiful.

*****

The Tryst, (Dodo Ink)

extract

By Monique Roffey

Before lunch we had sex again on the kitchen floor. Quickly, this time, me riding him. Oh, I like to be on top, to be the domina, the one who hostesses the show, who stages all the stunts with human males. I am the party thrower, the orgy mistress. I gave him a good fuck, massaging his cock with the muscles of my cunt, and the energy of him rose upwards through me and lit me up. This Bill was made to fit me and I was made to fit him; somehow I’d stumbled across him, this Adam. At first glance he was just a primary model: Husband, Father, the Average White English Male. Homme Vanille. Marks and Spencer Man. Nothing remarkable. Nicely castrated by the middle class feminists, cured of any alpha tendencies. He had been trained not to be dominant. Isn’t that what feminism has done, it has laughed the alpha males out of town. Masculinity is in crisis, say the clever ones these days. Feminism equalised women in the workplace and put men in the shed, where I found Bill. The male alpha doms went underground, thousands of them, to Internet fetish sites and their private dungeons and the like. There, many of my sistren operate, daemon-killers like me. Professional Dommes. Strangulators, ball kickers. Experts in humiliation, bestiality, fucking men up the ass with their strap-ons. Torturing testicles till they turn blue. We Lilatha exist in the shadows, in the twilight; we are around if you look for us. Many men do, those who like to submit. And they keep quiet when they find us. Few imps, like me, stalk the pavements in full view. That’s my kink, to fuck The Innocents, men like Bill. I like to dominate Mr Everyday.

And yet, as I had happily discovered, Bill had secret charms and abilities after all. My assessment had been wrong. I rode Bill hard, forging a twinned ecstasy between us. We groaned and writhed, both of us dying afterwards. I laughed with glee, at how Bill gasped for breath. “You’re lovely,” he gasped. I licked my fingers, tasting his bitter-salt cum. “So are you,” I winked. “Feed me now, I’m starving.”

Lunch was delicious and replenishing. We fell on fruit and gooey chocolate cake and ice cream and opened a bottle of red wine. I put on one of his vinyl jazz records and danced around naked. I’ll stay one more hour, I told myself. One more hour, just one. Janey-Wife has gone, this house is mine and we still want to fuck. I am not yet sated. Greedy thing I was, greedy for his cock. Bill couldn’t keep his eyes off me, he was entangled – miserably unsure of himself. Distant and yet high on that fuck-chemical of serotonin. It was coursing through him. It was like watching a new drug addict and any minute I might have to catch him from slumping to the floor. He was lust-drunk. But I wasn’t. I’d provoked this altered state in men many times before; I had left many husbands in this condition. Usually I fled well before this point. But I was still enjoying myself, still very much the sprite.

I danced naked for a while. Human men love to watch women dance in the nude and very few modern human women do. It is a dead art, relegated to the dim caverns and glossy tables of the lap dancing club. Burlesque strip-joints. Once, it was an art of the courtly harem and the well-paid hetaera; once it was part of Bohemia, of a social stratum of free thinkers and free lovers. Men have danced naked too, for women and other men. There is a long tradition of the Lust Arts. I find this an omission on the part of modern womankind as naked dancing puts men in a state of awe and gratitude. The Wife won’t do it, never did. Oh, human women divide their nature. Mother. Wife. Whore. They do not integrate. Good girls and bad. Few celebrate that they are both. So there I was rubbing myself and licking my lips, caressing my breasts, my hips, sliding my hand down between my legs. It was an act, a naked tease. This was one of my many carnival tricks. I have worked in burlesque clubs, learnt the art of grinding and wriggling, stripping off stockings, gloves. Doing what American strippers call ‘ass work’, removing strings of pearls from my pussy. I have a strong muscular vagina, able to pulse and milk my men. But I do not possess the agility of hookers in the bars and lap dancing clubs of the Orient. I cannot shoot ping-pong balls across the room. I surprised Bill with three small but succulent beetroot I had found in the fridge, already peeled and boiled. I dripped the purple ink over my quim, inserting them one by one, dancing them up and in. He laughed out loud and clapped for me and I took a bow. He knelt for me and ate as I released each soft warm beet into his mouth.

More, he whispered.

And I complied, oh, with cucumbers and carrots and the like. Bill was rock hard throughout. I loved his cock, thick and uncircumcised. The tip glistened. At one point, I knelt in front of Bill and took his balls into my mouth and swirled them round. He trusted me more with his jewels this time. He poured wine over my face and I drank and sucked and his cock was huge and solid and he stroked himself and dripped cum over my face, rubbed it into my hair. Then he was sitting on a counter top, his jeans unbuckled, his thighs bare, his cock like a tower. Me on tiptoe, with my mouth all over him, my head bobbing, all the while kneading his scrotum and his hand reaching down, stroking me, catching the drips. Then, his body juddered, as if Aphrodite herself was stroking the kundalini up from his genitals and up his back. His cum flew in hot spurts, white and pearly, splattering his stomach, the fruit bowl, everywhere. And I came too, my cum cascaded like a torrent to the floor, not a cupful, as usual, but a warm wave fell from that secret reservoir. Like I had urinated, except it was translucent and salt-sweet to taste. And with this release, I began to feel altered. I shouldn’t be here; I should have left. Bill reached down and cupped the small of my back as I shuddered. My orgasm swamped us both. I looked up at Bill and saw his eyes glittering. Oh Christ, he whispered. I could see that he had recognised me. I was Wife No 1. My cover was blown. It was then I whispered my real name to him in my language and he nodded.

*****

The Tryst, blurb

By Monique Roffey

London, midsummer night. Jane and Bill meet the mysterious Lilah in a bar. She entrances the couple with half-true, mixed up tales about her life. At closing time, Jane makes an impulsive decision to invite Lilah back to their home. But Jane has made a catastrophic error of judgment, for Lilah is a skilled and ruthless predator, the likes of which few encounter in a lifetime. Isolated and cursed, Jane and Bill are forced to fight for each other, and, in doing so, discover their covert desires.

Part psychological thriller, part contemporary magical realism, The Tryst revisits the tale of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, to examine the secrets of an everyday marriage.

*****

Praise for The Tryst

“What makes The Tryst an unexploded virus isn’t just the quality and brightness of Roffey’s writing on sex, even as it uncovers inner glades between flesh and fantasy where sex resides – but the taunting clarity of why those glades stay covered. A throbbing homewrecker of a tale, too late to call Fifty Shades of Red.”

DBC Pierre, Booker Prize winner

*****

BIOG

Monique Roffey is an award-winning Trinidadian-born writer. Her novels have been translated into five languages and short-listed for major awards including
the Orange Prize, Costa Fiction Award, Encore Award, Orion Award and the OCM Bocas Award for Caribbean Literature. In 2013, Archipelago won the OCM BOCAS Award for Caribbean Literature. Her memoir, With the Kisses of his Mouth, was published in 2011. She is a Lecturer on the MFA in the Novel at Manchester Metropolitan University. She divides her time between the East end of London and Port of Spain, Trinidad.

Buy at Amazon:

UK: http://amzn.to/2snABX2 US: https://www.amazon.com/Tryst-Monique-Roffey-ebook/dp/B072BX51PV/

Book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esSTfsbP3P4&sns=em

Twitter: @MoniqueRoffey13

Facebook: @MoniqueRoffeyAuthor

Instagram: @MoniqueRoffey

Website: www.moniqueroffey.com

I Have a New Cover!

You may have seen the occasional comment here and there about a novel I co-authored with the fabulous Lily Harlem. Well, it has been contracted, and now we have a cover. *happy dance*

Grand Slam is a full length erotic romance novel, with lots of other themes, including tennis and BDSM! We had soooo much fun writing this book and we hope you have as much fun reading it. It will be a little while yet, as we haven’t had edits through yet, but we have our fingers and toes crossed that it will be out in time for the US Open in August, as some of the action takes place there. I’m not saying anything else because I don’t want to give anything away 😉

Here’s some unofficial information on the book:

Marie Sherratt is beginning a new life in California. Her qualifications and determination have taken her to the Los Carlos Tennis Academy, where she will be the on-site psychologist for all the players, including world-famous Travis Connolly. She’s followed Travis’ career for years and also happens to think he’s seriously hot. Her first in-the-flesh glimpse of him isn’t quite what she was expecting, and from then onwards, things between her and Travis do not run smoothly, especially when it turns out the attraction is mutual.

Can Marie help Travis to regain his title as world’s number one seed? Or will their feelings get in the way?

So, without further ado, here’s the cover:

What do you think? We’re also hoping this may turn into a series with lots of sexy, sporty characters 🙂

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Guest Blogger: Kay Jaybee

Triple Trailer!

What an Autumn this is turning out to be! Two brand new books out, and one re-launched! I’m over the moon- but it does leave me with the most unusual problem- how can I possibly promote them all at once???

The answer- A triple taste of tiny titbits from each of them!

Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats Press) is my third novel! It’s packed with sex text, romantic lust, discipline, denial, self-control and lashings of erotic art…

Making Him WaitMaddie 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!

Tiny Titbit– …With a violent sweep of her arm, Maddie cleared the contents from the top of the battered metal trolley that held her spare brushes, paints and equipment.

Then, kicking off the empty mixing tins from the trolley’s bottom shelf, she wheeled it towards Tania. Despite the proud pitch of her chin and her resolutely squared shoulders, Tania was looking the most uncertain Maddie had seen her, and the defiant sense of disquiet from her ex lover’s face sent a new blast of power through Maddie’s system…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

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The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite E-Books) is a collection of my most popular stories published in Xcite anthologies.

The Best of Kay JaybeeFourteen of the very best erotic tales of dominance, submission, bondage, and romantic lust, are delivered with lashings of kink from the pen of Kay Jaybee. From the sexual adventures recalled by a woman as she stares at her favourite shirt, to a deliciously dirty orgy on a bed of cardboard boxes, the after-hours education of a rookie soldier, and the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, each story shows why Kay Jaybee has been hailed as ‘a master of the craft of erotica’ (Oysters and Chocolate). As a girl writes messages of lust on the body of her best friend’s lover, and a mistress’s employment of ropes and chains on her slave co-insides with the application of emulsion, we discover just how Kay has earned her reputation for producing ‘super-heated kinky stories,’ (Kd Grace), which are ‘a sublime pleasure to read’ (Violet Blue).

Tiny Titbit– (From The Shirt)…I can see him clearly. He is standing only inches from me and the air between us positively tingles with electricity. I could never love him, the man who currently adores me in my favourite shirt, but that’s all right, because he could never love me either. Lust, however, is in no short supply.

Shutting my eyes tighter, rubbing my shirt across my cheeks, my forehead and my eyelids, I begin to reminisce the moment we first gave into the mute eroticism that seems to swim between us each time we chat over the counter of the little bookshop I own. Clutching the fabric, I think of his fingers, thicker than any I’ve encountered before and yet, somehow for all that, incredibly dexterous…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

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The Collector (Austin&Macauley) is a linked anthology of short stories that have been gathered together by ‘the collector,’ who records them in her notebook for others to enjoy…

The CollectorThe Collector sits silently alone, engrossed in her tales of lust, submission and dominance. Has she already engraved your erotic exploits on her salacious list?

She may look like she is scribbling randomly in her notebook, but she is secretly listening to, and recording, the overheard fantasies and indiscretions of others.

Forever hungry for stories, when The Collector’s sources run dry, her appetite for tales of instruction and voyeurism drives her to do some research of her own before sharing her provocative experiments on paper.

It is time for the world’s raunchiest chronicler to come to light.

Tiny Titbit– (From Jay) She nodded, her long black hair falling across her rounded face,

hiding a nervous smile. A tall girl took her hand and led her into the ladies cloakroom, away from the buzz of the club. Jay caught her breath as she took in the scene. The action was already underway.

Pressed against the mirrored wall, arms placed high behind her spiky red hair, a fantastically curvaceous girl had her eyes tightly closed. Kneeling before her, an eager petite woman was licking

between her spread legs, soft fingers teasing the skin above sheer silk hold-ups. Jay took in the round exposed globes squeezed out seductively above the willing captive’s startlingly bright green basque.

She didn’t need telling what to do…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

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You can find further details of all my other novels, novellas, and story collections, at my web site- www.kayjaybee.me.uk

Many many thanks for Lucy for letting me visit her wonderful site today!!

Kay xx