Tag Archives: femdom

Knowing Her Place – Her Teacher’s Teacher, A Guest Post by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee)

Knowing Her Place is the third part of my kinky BDSM saga, The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.

The trilogy begins with The Fifth Floor (previously called The Perfect Submissive) – the story of Miss Jess Sanders’ unexpected journey into the world of professional sexual submission under the tutelage of The Fables Hotel’s manageress, and resident dominatrix, Mrs Laura Peters.

The submissive saga continues with The Retreat (Book 2)– when Jess finds herself unceremoniously whisked away from Fables to Scotland, into the custody of her most feared client, David Proctor, and an unusual erotic pseudo-fairytale.

In the final novel of the series, Knowing Her Place, Jess faces her toughest challenge yet- to find her way back to where it all began- the Fables Hotel. But does she have what it takes to escape from The Retreat in Scotland and get home…wherever home may be?

*****

Knowing Her PlaceBlurb-

Full of unanswered questions after her erotic fairytale experience at the hands of David Proctor and his staff at The Retreat in Scotland, Jess Sanders is desperate to return to her submissive position at the exclusive Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire.

Having been thwarted in his plans to keep Jess at The Retreat permanently, Proctor isn’t willing to let Jess go back to her employer, Mrs Peters, without sending her on one final mission. Only if she succeeds in her task, will Proctor remove the collar of servitude he has locked around Jess’s neck.

With a list of five unfamiliar addresses in her hand, Jess is placed in a car and driven away from The Retreat towards England. With no idea of what, or who, awaits her at the each location, all Jess can hope for is that her journey will eventually take her back to where she belongs.

To the fifth floor of the Fables Hotel, where Jess Sanders truly knows her place.

*****

Of all the people David Proctor forces Jess to encounter on her journey towards freedom, one of them is someone Jess never imagined she’d meet – but has always been curious about.

Ms Webster. An old lady who, many years ago tutored Jess’s mistress, Mrs Peters, in the art of domination and submission.

Not only does Jess discover a great deal about the history of Mrs Peters and her rival David Proctor, she finds herself (with the help of Max, Ms Webster’s odd job man), being held up as an example of the ideal submissive.

Pippa, Ms Webster’s carer, has always dreamed submissive fantasies – but as Jess knows all too well – a fantasy is one thing, living that lifestyle is something else altogether…

…Without being able to see them, Jess knew Pippa’s eyes would be wide open, and whereas her own palms tingled with the perspiration of erotic expectancy, the girl’s would have a sheen of sticky sweat. Pippa might well have wanted what she’d asked for, but Jess knew better than most that being faced with what you’ve always fantasised about can be as terrifying as it can be satisfying.

Ms Webster laid down her walking stick. Now she was within the realm in which she felt most confident it was clear its reassuring presence wasn’t required. Again, Jess could see similarities between Mrs Peters and the woman who had originally trained her. For Ms Webster appeared, even without her stick, to walk a little taller than she had before Max and Pippa had arrived in her home.

The easy conversation of only moments ago had disappeared as the retired mistress laid out a set of instructions. In one swift, uncompromising command, Ms Webster had Pippa and Jess standing next to each other, their upper garments removed.

Instantly Jess’s breasts felt the tug of Max’s eyes, making them rise and fall under his appreciation. Her throat dried and her pussy juiced as her imagination took its usual route into the infinite possibilities of the excesses she could be about to endure in order to provide others with a good time.

‘Max, if you would be so kind as to help Pippa with the first set of cuffs.’ Ms Webster pointed to the shorter of the two sets of chains as Max eagerly jumped to his feet, the enlargement of his cock visible beneath his denims.

‘Miss Sanders, you may raise your head for a moment, but be ready to return your eyes to the cross on the floor when I tell you to.’

Easing out the muscles in her neck, Jess watched as, placing her small, age-spotted hands over Pippa’s tiny, pale breasts, Ms Webster steered the carer to the opposite side of the cross. Just the cold touch of the older woman’s hands had caused Pippa’s mouth to gape, and Jess tried to guess how long she’d last in the chains before she came. If just the touch of skin on flesh produced a mew and flushing of Pippa’s face so early in the proceedings, then she didn’t think it would be long.

Now she was face to face with Pippa, Jess could take in her appearance properly for the first time. Her petite face, surrounded by a severely cut bob of blonde hair, topped a body which was only about four foot nine tall. All the carer’s features were small and neat, as if in adulthood her body had decided against moving on from its pubescent state. Her breasts were little more than beautifully carved bumps adorned with nut-brown nipples, her belly was so flat it was almost concave, and even though she wore jeans, Jess could tell that the hips beneath were slim, her pelvic bones not yet hidden by the fleshy padding that later years may well bestow upon her.

With a nod towards Max to deal with Pippa, Ms Webster addressed Jess. ‘Miss Sanders, Pippa will be relying on you to be her role model – like many before her, I’m sure. I have told her much about my past life. I think, however, to survive what lies ahead for you when you leave this place, you would also benefit from learning more about the past, particularly about the man whom you are up against.’

‘Mr Proctor?’

‘Indeed, Miss Sanders.’ Ms Webster took Jess’s hands and drew them backward, placing them over her own backside. ‘While you are here, you will not only be teaching by example, but you will be taught.’

Jess clutched her buttocks as her stomach rumbled, reminding her how long it had been since she’d eaten a proper meal. A fact that made Ms Webster smile with an approval Jess hadn’t been expecting.

‘Tell us, Miss Sanders, when was the last time you properly ate or had the chance to sleep?’

She was not entirely sure of the answer, for the days since she’d been given the chance to escape from the confines of The Retreat had begun to blur in Jess’s mind. ‘I had a night in a bed after task one was completed, and apart from some snacks grabbed from the railway stations I’ve visited –’ she caught Max’s eye as she spoke, hoping the mention of the railway would elicit some sort of response from him, but his features remained blank ‘– I haven’t eaten since my first task was completed.’

‘Do you see, Pippa, what being a true submissive means? It requires that not only do you give yourself over bodily, but with that comes certain deprivations you must cope with beyond the sexual, such as the burdens of hunger and lack of sleep.’

Pippa said nothing, but her eyes, which had taken on the glimmer of a woman unable to deny her body’s awakening, clouded slightly.

‘Miss Sanders isn’t a wife who likes the occasional spanking by her husband, nor is she the subservient half of a dominant but loving relationship; which, I suspect, is the type of submission that you yourself crave. She is a professional submissive. A woman who has stepped into a world that can be as lonely and frightening as it is rewarding; and largely consists of not really knowing who you can trust, yet, at the same time, accepting that you have to trust them anyway. It is not a life that is easily adopted. It is a life you have to be born to.’

Jess’s insides turned in a somersault. It had been a long time since she’d analysed her chosen way of life in such practical terms. Mrs Peters had seen who and what she was the first time she’d laid eyes on Jess when she’d gone to work at the Fables Hotel as a booking clerk. Since then, despite her initial personal bewilderment, Jess had come to realise that she had indeed been made for the life. Until now, however, she’d never considered the loneliness of the existence she had. She didn’t want to…

****

Although each of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy novels can be read as a standalone novel, you’ll get far more out of Jess’s adventure if you follow it from the beginning.

Available from:

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

You can find all the buy links for Book 1 and Book 2 here-

The Fifth Floorhttps://wp.me/P75ZDl-u9

The Retreathttps://wp.me/P75ZDl-10E

Many thanks for hosting me today Lucy,

Happy reading,

Kay x

*****

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

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

Black Cat Security by Katerina Ross

Black Cat SecurityBlurb:

Dragomir, a magician with PTSD and a very inconvenient curse upon him, struggles to make a living, taking part in illegal boxing matches. Fighting is the only thing he’s good at now. But how long can he keep it up? The fights are dangerous, and he’s untrained.

A pretty witch he meets one night says she might change his life for the better. Is she really willing to help, or does she have her own wicked plans about him? And can she succeed where all the magicians of Scholomance have failed?

Warnings (or an incentive to read): BDSM, FemDom, bondage, whipping, spanking, pegging… and some magic, too 🙂

Buy links: Amazon UK | Amazon US | Evernight Publishing

*****

Excerpt

When he came to, the first thing he understood: he couldn’t see. A moment of panic—and then another realization: there was a blindfold of some kind over his eyes. He was standing with his arms up above him … and wait, were his hands bound? What the hell? He tried to reach up, rotating his wrists, and clutched at the chains he was hanging from. Yes, fucking chains. And leather handcuffs, buckled very tight. And he couldn’t feel any clothes upon himself, just something around his neck in addition to his dog tag.

Then he remembered. Ida. Her apartment. Talking about his curse. She said they had to negotiate…

And after that—nothing.

He jerked at the chains, hard. And again, and a few times more. They didn’t give. There was some slack, so at least his arms weren’t pulled up too tautly, but he couldn’t break free.

“You must be wondering what happened to you,” Ida said somewhere to his left. “You agreed to an experiment, remember? And here you are. A fine specimen for a very interesting test.”

Her hand touched his chest lightly, out of nowhere, and he jolted at the contact as if she prodded him with a stun baton.

She chuckled quietly. “So skittish. But it’s understandable. Everyone would be jumpy in your place.” Her hand wandered across his pecs, brushed his nipple, and disappeared. “I’ll let you adjust. Try tugging at the chains again if you want to check whether they will break or not. I allow you. But here’s a spoiler: they won’t. It’s not some rusty old shackles. They are good and new, very sturdy, and secured to an eyehook in the ceiling. There had been a large chandelier hanging from it once, so it’s quite reliable. I redecorated the room long ago, but I always thought the hook would come in handy one day. It’s a mild nuisance the handcuffs have to be hanging so high—I’m not that tall. But a bit of hypnosis, and you helped me to restrain you most eagerly.”

What the hell was going on?

As if through a fog, Dragomir remembered saying yes to some kind of experiment and even filling and signing a yes/no negotiation form, but it was a vague memory, distant and dream-like. Everything else—a boxing match, a fight before that—seemed even more surreal.

Ida’s hand slipped along his flank, ticklishly, up to his neck, and tugged at what he realized was a collar.

“And this is to ensure you wouldn’t break free using magic. Quite a special thing. Leather, silver, and a security spell. Meant especially for wayward mages, something of the kind they use in prisons when incarcerating a person with enhanced abilities.” She slipped a finger under the band around his throat, making it too tight, almost choking him. “So you will behave, no matter whether you want it or not. A bad boy will be a good boy for a change.”

“What are you doing?” he rasped out.

“Just making you harmless. Wasn’t it what you wanted, to cause no harm to me?”

Was she mocking him?

He stood there, wearing nothing but a collar, a dog tag, and a blindfold. It was ridiculous. Laughable. Humiliating.

And scary.

Rationally, he knew he probably had nothing to worry about. Or did he? But anyway, all rational thoughts gave way to a primitive bodily reaction—discomfort at being tied up, helpless. It felt like he was itching all over under his skin with uneasiness bordering on unwanted panic, too exposed, deprived of sight. He tried to wriggle his wrists out of the handcuffs instead of jerking at the chains, but to no avail.

“Nope, the handcuffs will hold, too,” Ida warned him. “I checked, and not just once. As I might have said, I do a bit of coaching now and then, but of an unusual kind. I call it expanding boundaries. Experiencing new sensations. It doesn’t normally include sex, but for you, I might make an exception.”

A peck of a kiss between his shoulder blades. Hands running up and down his sides, in a comforting manner, but at the same time, it was unnerving. He tried to twist away from her touch, stubbornly, but she squeezed his hips, adding a hint of nails.

“Sshh, don’t twitch, hold still,” she said, “or I’ll pull up the chains. They say it’s extremely painful to hang from your wrists. Excruciating.”

“Oh yeah?” he managed. “Someone else complained?”

“And very loudly. Good thing this room is soundproof. As I said, it had been redecorated.”

Her arms went ‘round him. She was still clothed, but he could feel her little perky breasts pressing against his back. His cock, already half-hard, immediately went into a very interested mode. It didn’t seem to mind the strangeness of the situation.

Submissive on The Fifth Floor: A Guest Post by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee) #femdom #erotica #bdsm

Thank you for inviting me over today to tell you about the re-launch of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.

It is with great excitement, that I can announce that Book One of the trilogy, The Fifth Floor (previously The Perfect Submissive) has been re-edited, recovered and re-released!

The Fifth FloorBlurb:

Hidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor.  Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests.  When she meets Jess Sanders, she recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff.  All it will take is a little education.

Under the tutelage of dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with an erotically demanding training schedule and a truly sexy exercise regime. But will she come to terms with her new career?

Meanwhile, Mrs Peters is temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fables’ fifth floor by artist, Sam Wheeler – who she believes can help her in her mission to transform Jess into the perfect submissive…

*****

What is it that makes someone want to be sexually subservient to another? Why do so many people enjoy the total removal of their free will? Even within the bounds of fantasy rather than reality, the concept of becoming a sub to a more dominant partner is extremely popular.

I honestly can’t answer these questions- for one person’s reason for living a submissive lifestyle will be totally different from the next. What is important however, is that the relationship of a sub and a master or mistress has to be based on trust- without that, then the system simply does not work.

The notion that she wants to be a sub, is one that Jess Sanders has to learn come to grips with very quickly as she enters employment at the Fable’s Hotel…only will she begin to realise how important trust is…

Not long after her employment as a booking clerk at The Fables Hotel, Jess witnesses the willing subjection of fit healthy young men – the first step towards Jess becoming the submissive assistant Mrs Peters wants her to be.

*****

Crossing the threshold of the room, into which she was being firmly steered by the elbow, felt like entering another world to Jess, or rather, another time. Manoeuvred towards a plush red velvet chaise longue, her eyes darting here and there, the clerk was pointedly sat down.

Trying to ignore the light but persistent pressure of Mrs Peters cool hand against her wrist, Jess took in the reproduction William Morris wallpaper, the heavy dark-wood chest of drawers, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, and the faded brown leather wing-backed armchair. Centre stage, only a few metres from where they sat, was a huge writing desk. Its top was inlaid with a square of leather, a portion of which was covered with blotting paper, an accompanying ink well, pots of ink, and nibbed pens.

Jess was reminded of a museum she’d once visited as a child, where rooms from a variety of different houses had been re-created from a number of historical periods. This room had Victorian study written all over it.

The silence was beginning to get to her as she waited, perched rather than sat, on the unyielding seat. A faint voice of hope at the back of Jess’s head kept telling her that all this had to be some sort of practical joke, but one glance at Mrs Peters made her reconsider. She couldn’t prevent her eyes from drifting towards the study door. Whatever she had been brought here to witness surely couldn’t begin until someone came in. Twenty seconds later, each one ticked off by the hammer of Jess’s heart beating, the door swung back with a confident push.

‘Ah, Miss Sarah,’ Laura rose from her seat, a stern glare at Jess telling her not to move. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Fables has a new member of staff, and I thought it would be a good idea to let her observe one of our sessions.’

Miss Sarah, her face powdered to an ultra-pale complexion, her curling hair pinned up in the style of a Victorian lady, her exquisite outfit historically accurate down to the small white buttons that fastened her stylish black boots, curtsied at once to her superior, ‘Of course, Mrs Peters.’

The stunningly slim woman glanced briefly at Jess, her grey gaze only lingering long enough to acknowledge the stranger, without taking in what she looked like or who she might be. Miss Sarah’s indifference, dismissing the office clerk as an unimportant factor in the room, made Jess feel smaller and more anxious than ever.

The agonising lull continued and Jess’s imagination ran riot as Miss Sarah sat at the desk in preparation for her client’s arrival. Images of pock-skinned overweight men, panting loudly as they fucked the employees of the fifth floor against the furniture made Jess’s stomach churn, but there was no way out. With a quiet determination that Mrs Peters would have been surprised to know Jess possessed, she thought, if the other members of staff here have survived this part of the tour, then so can I.

As Mrs Peters returned to both the chaise longue and her application of gentle restraint against the clerk’s arm, Jess’s body stiffened. Someone was knocking on the door. Not daring to face her employer, Jess focused on the figure that, after being granted permission to enter, walked meekly into the study.

If he hadn’t had his neck bent, his face to the floor with respect for Miss Sarah, who greeted him with a sharp ‘Good Morning’, Jess judged he would have been quite tall. And he was young; not the sweaty, aged bank manager Jess had conjured up in her head, but a man in his late 20s or early 30s, with a shaven face, short spiked ginger hair, and well built limbs. He was dressed as a servant, perhaps a stable hand. Jess was automatically reminded of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Gulping against her dehydrated throat, unwilling to see the sex that she was sure was about to follow, the clerk dropped her eyes, only to have her chin roughly jerked upwards by Mrs Peters, ‘No, child. You will observe. You will learn.’

A patina of panic gripped Jess. Every hair on the back of her neck stood to attention. Until that moment it had been unreal. She hadn’t let go of the hope that at any minute someone was going to turn around and say, ‘OK, Jess, it’s just a joke. We play it on all the new girls. Let’s grab a coffee.’ No one did though. No one was saying anything.

The suffocating quiet of the room was broken by the newcomer, who apparently totally oblivious to his audience, was pressed to his knees by Miss Sarah. His head lowered, he was left where he was as the lady sat in the wing-backed chair, her back straight, her chin tilted, her clear eyes filled with disdain as she studied her supplicant.

Jess tried to turn her head away for a second time, but again, had it sharply wrenched back to the scene unfolding before her. She felt hot despite the general chill of the room, and wished she could take off the thick jumper that was so essential in her cold little bookings office.

Miss Sarah stood again, her abrupt movement making Jess jump and Mrs Peters smile with sardonic approval. ‘You know why I have called you here, Master Paul.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ The words were spoken with humility, but Jess heard every word. It was like being in a theatre watching someone dictating well rehearsed lines.

‘I believe I’ve had to speak to you before about your time keeping. Twice before in fact.’

The man’s eyes remained dipped, ‘Yes, my lady.’

‘I’m afraid that, as this is not the first time there has been cause to reprimand you, the punishment will be more severe this time.’ Miss Sarah didn’t sound afraid at all. Her cut-glass voice sounded triumphant as she towered over the man, who seemed to be getting smaller, as if he was shrinking against her tone.

With a rustle of the petticoats hidden beneath her bust hugging dress, Miss Sarah turned from her client and began to search through the desk drawer. Jess held her breath; positive she knew what Miss Sarah was searching for. It has to be a wooden ruler. Jess had read enough erotica to know how these scenarios went. It was almost text book.

It briefly crossed her mind that she should have been disappointed; but the hardening of her nipples told her otherwise, as did the tell-tale twitch beneath her skirt. Determined to keep her unbidden arousal secret, Jess privately admonished herself for being so susceptible.

She averted her eyes from the woman at the desk, but Jess couldn’t bring herself to turn them from the manservant. He captivated her. So strong, so masculine. What makes him want to come here and be controlled like this? Why does he pay to be humiliated?

‘It’s fascinating, isn’t it?’ Mrs Peters seemed to be reading her mind.

Jess felt goose pimples sprinkle her flesh as her employer continued to speak in whispers, her warm breath tickling Jess’s ear, ‘He’s a strong young man. He is good looking. He could dominate any girl he chose, and yet here he is, getting his rocks off by crouching in obedience before a powerful woman.’

Jess opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say; or even if she was permitted to speak. Instead she flicked her attention back to Miss Sarah, who’d finished her deliberately protracted hunt through the desk, and now held, not a ruler, but a short handled white whip.

*****

You can find out what happens next by buying The Fifth Floor from…

Amazon (universal link)Barnes & Noble | iBooksKoboSmashwords

*****

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 200 erotica publications including, The Fifth Floor – Book 1 of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (KJ Press, 2017) , The Collector (KDP, 2016), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 Nights Press, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 Nights Press, 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- 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

25% Rebate on @evernightpub Titles at @allromance

evernightrebate

Hi folks!

Just a quick note to let you know there are a couple more days left to get a 25% rebate on Evernight Publishing titles at All Romance eBooks. This includes:

Cupid

Testing Tom

Alpha’s Claim: Manlove Edition

HIS: Manlove Edition

Uniform Fetish: Manlove Edition

Lover Unexpected: Sappho Edition

Happy Reading!
Lucy x

***

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A Scarlet Christmas by D.L. King (@d_l_king)

A Scarlet ChristmasHi Lucy and thanks so much for having me on your blog! I’ve got a new novella out, which is kind of unusual for me as I mostly edit anthologies and write short stories. But this one is special, at least to me. It’s a femdom retelling of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

I started writing this years ago, but put it down and forgot about it. A few months ago, I was going through my bits and pieces (sometimes they give me ideas and sometimes, I decide I need to work on one of them) when I came across the two or three paragraphs I’d written. Evidently the time was right because I actually started dreaming about the story. I’d wake up and want to write down what I’d been dreaming about.

I have to say, I really love this story. It makes me laugh and brings tears to my eyes. And, of course, it makes me hot, too.

It’s a book as much about New York at Christmas time, as it is about learning to care for fellow humans on the planet and lead a good life—and maybe even have fun while you’re doing it.

I do want to warn your readers, though, it isn’t a romance, as stated on Amazon. There really isn’t any love match at all. It’s all about learning a hard lesson and getting on with your life. That’s not to say there isn’t plenty of sex, because there absolutely is! I don’t think anyone can say I don’t put enough of the good stuff in my work.

I thought I’d add a little excerpt, just to give you a taste. This little clip doesn’t have any sex in it. It’s just a bit of an introduction to what you might expect to find. Of course, I think you should buy it now, so you can read it on Christmas, but that’s me.

Excerpt:

Ebenezer looked from side to side. Nothing that could be used as a weapon. He got out of bed and, as he stepped onto the floor, the board he landed on squeaked. The door was locked, buying him time. Where was his phone? Just as he realized he must have left it downstairs, a voice on the other side of the door spoke.

“Eb, are you in there? I don’t want to frighten you. Do you mind if I come in?”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Ebenezer barked, though his voice wavered a bit.

“Eb, it’s me, Sherman. Look, do you mind if I come in? It’s really cold out here.”

“Sherman? Sherman Tindall? Sherman Tindall’s dead. I’m calling the police!”

“Look, Eb, I’m really sorry, but I’m on a tight schedule, you know. I don’t have time and it really is cold in your hallway.” As Ebenezer watched, a gray mist issued from under the door, eventually coalescing into a somewhat transparent, 3D image of his old friend, Sherman Tindall.

“Sherman, it is you. What the devil are you doing here?” Ebenezer asked. “I mean, how did you… what did you do to… I mean, you’re dead—aren’t you?”

“My god, man, don’t you heat this house? Well, this room’s a little warmer than the hall, but really. You’ll catch your death. Mark my words. And I know what I’m talking about,” and he put his semi-solid index finger against the side of his semi-solid nose and tapped twice.

“Heat costs money, Sherman, and why am I arguing with a ghost? You’re not even here. I’m still asleep and having a nightmare—probably from that substandard Chinese food I had for dinner. That’s the last time I order from those guys.”

“You’re not having a nightmare,” Sherman said, “and you have more money than God. Spend a little. That’s what it’s for. You can’t take it with you and don’t I know it? And actually, that’s why I’m here. I can’t stay long.”

“Pity,” Ebenezer said.

Sherman’s ghost huffed and mumbled something about drawing the short straw. “Look, you’ve got to change your ways before it’s too late. I learned too late and look what my afterlife is like. I counted you as a friend in life and I don’t want to see you follow in my footsteps.”

“Why, what’s so bad about your afterlife? You’re out, visiting friends—whether they want you to, or not—what do you expect?”

A high-pitched scream issued from the ghost and then a low moan. He opened his coat and Ebenezer could see a host of tiny creatures pulling and tearing at Sherman’s insides. His organs were ripped to shreds and the walls of his stomach were torn and bleeding. “An eternity of pain, that’s what awaits you.”

Ebenezer shrank back. “Sherman, that’s terrible. Let me call someone, a doctor or something.”

“There’s nothing that can be done. Not for me. I’m dead, remember? I’m only here to warn you.”

“Warn me about what, Sherman?”

“Three spirits will come for you tonight. Do not mock them or it will go worse for you. Trust me on this. They are powerful and they know what you need.” Ebenezer opened his mouth. “No. You must do as they tell you. They are come to help you and that’s all I can say.” Another scream ripped through the silence that followed and was almost immediately cut off. Sherman was gone, leaving Ebenezer standing at the foot of his bed with his hand against his heart.

He added wood to the fire and banked it, then poured another two fingers of scotch and crawled back into bed. That was crazy. He knew he was awake, but that couldn’t have happened. There were no such things as ghosts. He took a drink of scotch and leaned back against his pillows. “Must have been a dream,” he muttered before falling back asleep.

 

Available from: Amazon UK | Amazon US

 

And, if you like it and want to review it, or tell people about it, well, I wouldn’t tell you not to. I’m just saying…

D. L. King
http://dlkingerotica.blogspot.com
http://www.dlkingerotica.com
http://twitter.com/d_l_king
https://www.facebook.com/dlkingerotica

Saturday Spankings #79 – What she had in mind, he would definitely like. #SatSpanks

Saturday Spankings-467x200Hi everyone,

It’s time for another Saturday Spankings, which is where authors post eight-ish sentences of a spanking on their blogs. Here’s another snippet from my femdom erotic romance novella, Testing Tom. It follows on from last week’s. Enjoy!

He obviously thought she was going to dump him, or something. What she had in mind, he would definitely like. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, “you’re absolutely going to like what I have planned for you. Now, take off your shoes and coat and put them away neatly, then get into my bedroom. Quickly!”

She saw an expression of bliss flit across his face before he did as he was told. He put his shoes neatly by the door, and hung his coat on the rack above them. Then he all but scampered down the hallway and into her room.

I hope you enjoyed that snippet! You can grab the book here. And then see the below list to hop to the other authors taking part…