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Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #steampunk #bondage #discipline #Victorian #BDSM #India #Bollywood #BBW #analsex #curse #espionage #dirigible #menage #shifter

Blurb

A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon.

A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle torture and delight.

A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.

She has never faced such a challenge. 

When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. Instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.

Kidnapped by the ruler’s half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the handsome but depraved Rajah Amir, she soon finds herself fighting against her own lascivious nature as much as the schemes of her captors. Her sympathy for the moon-cursed wolf-man Pratan only complicates her situation. Cecily has never failed to complete an assignment, but now she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/363-rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1100493

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rajasthani-moon-lisabet-sarai/1140045684?ean=2940165000041

Kobohttps://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58835067-rajasthani-moon

*****

Rajasthani MoonExcerpt:

The brigand’s headquarters turned out to be a cave hollowed from the side of a mountain. After tethering his horse to a stunted tree near the entrance, he slung Cecily over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her inside. His casual handling of her body both inflamed and enraged her, but she remained quiet, observing her surroundings with care in the hope of discerning some means of escape.

The interior was less dirty and claustrophobic than she had feared. An uneven ceiling arched over their heads, reinforced by pillars fashioned from whole tree trunks. Oil lamps tucked into niches hewn into the walls dispelled most of the shadows. A wooden table, two chairs and a bedstead, all of rustic construction, constituted the only furnishings. However, to her left, on a natural rock shelf, she was surprised to see a sleek, modern com unit. Its low hum mingled with a faint gurgle of running water, coming from somewhere deeper in the cave. In the shadows she noticed a cage fashioned of iron bars, of the sort she’d seen used to transport sheep and goats. Does he keep animals here? she wondered. There was no barnyard scent.

He dumped her without ceremony onto the straw-filled mattress, then unsheathed his knife. Before she could even cry out, he had sliced her filthy, rumpled clothing off her body, pulled the fabric from underneath her, and tossed the bright rags into a corner. He also relieved her of the knife strapped to her arm and her other earring.

He paused to ogle her nakedness, the dark eyes above his mask burning with lust. Cecily’s nipples peaked and her cunny moistened in response to his brazen inspection—she couldn’t help herself—and she was uncomfortably certain that her reactions were not lost on him.

Using her bound arms, she managed to manoeuvre herself into a sitting position, with her bound legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He watched, neither assisting nor hindering her, clearly amused by her awkward progress. Refusing to be cowed, she answered his bold stare with one of her own.

He was the one to break the silence. “So, my lady. Tell me now. Whom do I have the honour of entertaining here in my humble abode?”

“Why should I reveal my identity to someone who will not even show me his face?” Cecily stalled for time, trying to work out a plan.

“A reasonable point. Pardon me.” The man untied the cloth that hid his features, revealing a beak of a nose, black whiskers and lips that curled in a sardonic smile.

“You!”Cecily cursed inwardly as soon as the word escaped.

“You know me, woman?” His eyes narrowed and his brows drew together into a scowl.

“I–I have seen your picture, sir—in the Bombay newspapers…”

What was the Rajah’s brother doing, hiding away in a miserable hole like this? Why didn’t he have any servants or retainers? Why had he attacked her carriage? These questions and a dozen more assailed her. Meanwhile, she struggled to offer a coherent excuse.

“My brother recommended that I should contact you, Your Excellency, when I arrived in Jaipur… He wishes to establish relationships with your weavers, to purchase your justifiably renowned textiles, but owing to his failing health, he sent me in his stead…”

“Nonsense!”His voice was like thunder. “Do not insult my intelligence! You’re no merchant, madam! Who are you really? Or do I have to beat the truth out of you?”

Cecily kept her mouth closed. Like all Her Majesty’s agents, she’d been trained not to break under torture. Thus far, that training had never been put to the test.

Pratan seized her by her long hair and hauled her to her feet. Of course, with her ankles bound, she could not walk. Half pulling, half carrying, he bundled her over to the closest pillar, jerked her bound arms up, then pushed her face first against the rough wood. The bark abraded her naked breasts and belly. She tried to squirm away from him, but he leaned his weight against her back while keeping her wrists pinned against the pillar above her head.

“Rebind,” he growled. In a flash the robotic rope unravelled and reconfigured itself, looping tight around both her arms and the column supporting her. Once he was certain she was secure, he dropped to his knees and touched the rope at her ankles. “Unbind.”

Cecily stumbled as the force connecting her ankles disappeared. Her relief at being free was short-lived. Pratan dragged her legs apart and inserted some sort of rigid bar between her shins. “Bind.” Before she could take two breaths, her legs were restrained in a permanently spread position, wide enough to allow her captor easy access to her sex.

Indeed, realising the degree of her exposure made her terribly aware of her quim, which she could not deny was soaked and swollen. You must be strong, she told herself. Think of England.

The cool air of the cave teased her bared flesh. Then a light touch, delicate as a feather, traced its way along the inside of her thigh. Her pussy clenched and moisture dribbled out. The impudent finger smeared the juice across her sensitive skin. Pleasure sparked through her.

“You can’t fight me.” His voice was like warm honey now, all the anger gone. It flowed through her, unbearably sweet. “And I don’t think you want to. There’s no shame in surrendering when you’ve been rendered completely helpless.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

New Release! Monsoon Fever: A Multicultural Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Menage #Polyamory #Bisexual #Threesome #India #Assam #MMFRomance #TheGreatWar #WWI #BritishEmpire #Hinduism

Monsoon FeverBlurb

When a charismatic Indian lawyer arrives at their remote Assamese tea plantation, he tempts a married couple with forbidden carnal delights.

In the early years of their marriage, Priscilla and Jonathan eagerly indulged their physical desires, but now that passion has dwindled. Childlessness and the horrors of the Great War have taken a toll on their relationship. Though Priscilla still aches for Jon’s touch, he seems preoccupied with settling his father’s affairs in India, so they can sell the plantation they’ve inherited and return to England.

Anil Kumar served as solicitor to Jon’s father. Arriving unannounced, drenched by a monsoon deluge, he enchants both Priscilla and Jon with his beauty, poise and wisdom. In separate incidents, each of them succumbs to Anil’s lustful attentions. Will the illicit cravings excited by the handsome Indian be the final stroke that destroys their marriage? Or the route to saving it?

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised and re-edited for this release.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0994WZP4B

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0994WZP4B

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1093764

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/monsoon-fever-lisabet-sarai/1139827649?ean=2940164960315

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/monsoon-fever-a-multicultural-romance

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58554176-monsoon-fever

*****

Excerpt

The next thing she knew, Jon was beside her, helping her to stand. He clutched her soapy form to his now-naked body and sealed her lips with his. Joy ballooned in her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt his decisive mouth or tasted his familiar flavour. She rubbed her breasts against him, smearing herself with his dirt. His rigid nipples poked at her chest. Below, she could feel his cock stiffening again, nudging into the gap between her thighs.

She opened her legs and tilted her pelvis toward him, inviting his entry. Then, all at once, a torrent of warm water poured down on their heads. They broke their kiss, sputtering in the surprise flood. Before they could respond, another bucketful drenched them.

“Anil!” Sputtering and laughing, Priscilla turned to find that the native was behind them. He too had shed his clothes. As she watched, he raised a pitcher and poured its contents over his own head.

The shower slicked his dark locks against his skull, emphasising the fine planes of his countenance. Rivulets coursed over his muscled shoulders and down his hairless chest. His skin looked oiled, cinnamon-hued and buttery smooth. Only in his groin did hair grow, in wild black tangles completely different from the golden fur at the base of Jonathan’s cock.

Priscilla’s palms itched with the need to caress that silky, dark skin, to mould Anil’s flat breasts and flick her thumbs across his chocolate-hued nipples. She saw herself kneeling in the puddle at his feet, swallowing his majestic penis. The urge to turn image into reality was overwhelming. Did she dare to act on her desire?

She glanced back at Jon. He too seemed transfixed by the sight of Anil’s glorious nakedness. His cock was fully erect once again. It twitched slightly, in rhythm perhaps with his racing pulse. His hands were clenched at his sides, but as Priscilla watched, he relaxed and began stroking himself. He swelled further.

She willed him to look away from Anil for a moment and to meet her gaze, with its unspoken question. He must have felt her thoughts. Their eyes locked, and for a moment Priscilla felt the old connection that they’d had at first, the sense that everything was understood. He nodded slightly, a half-smile playing on his lips.

She beamed her gratitude back at him, then turned back to Anil’s body. Lowering herself to the tiled floor, she grasped the Indian’s cock at the root and stroked it gently. The taut skin sheathing his hardness felt like silk. The bulb was scarcely wider than the shaft and peaked rather than round, like a blunted arrowhead. His foreskin puckered below it. Droplets clung to the tip, perhaps from the shower, perhaps his own secretions. Priscilla’s mouth watered at the sight.

She bent closer and pursed her lips around the bulb, tonguing the slit, sampling his moisture. The taste made her crave more. Opening wide, she engulfed him, sucking him deep into her mouth.

Anil hummed with pleasure. He laid a light hand on her damp curls, guiding but not forcing her as she slid her mouth along his length. He hardly thrust at all, though the increasing tension in his flesh made it clear that his excitement was peaking. Reaching between his legs, she cupped the velvety sacs hanging there, thrilled to feel them tighten as she brought him closer to the edge.

Her own body was on fire. Her nipples were points of flame, and her clit was a glowing ember no amount of wetness could quench, though her juices trickled down her splayed thighs onto the floor. Anil’s hands were on her shoulders now, kneading her flesh as she sucked rhythmically on his. He was nowhere near her sex, yet his touch sent hot shivers through her. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself skewered by the steely cock now sliding in and out of her mouth, and the image nearly sent her into her own climax. She sucked more strongly, nipping at the bulb each time she reached the apex. The native groaned, moments away from coming.

“Pru!” Jon’s voice was low and hoarse with lust, close to her ear. “Don’t let him spend. Don’t waste him. Let’s get to the bedroom.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New Release! Bound and Breathless: Passionate Kink by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #kink #bdsm #dominance #submission #bondage #analsex #nippleclamps #buttplug #flogging #femdom #cutting #electricplay #humiliation #cuckold #fantasy #spanking #caning #polyamory

Bound and BreathlessBlurb

For some people, kink is a game, a way to spice up sex by adding a hint of taboo. This book isn’t about those people.

These stories dig deeper, baring souls, exposing the heady thrill of power and surrender, intimacy and complicity. In the passionate dance of dominant and submissive, there is no tomorrow. There is only now, balanced between pleasure and pain, breathless with forbidden possibilities.

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B097HJYMFC/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B097HJYMFC/

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B097HJYMFC/

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B097HJYMFC/

Universal Amazon Link: https://rxe.me/HJYMFC

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58372150-bound-and-breathless

*****

R-Rated Excerpt – from Just a Spanking

I am dressed as he requires, short skirt with no panties, silk blouse with no bra, and my favorite lace-up boots. I fidget on the seat as he drives up 101. The plastic is sticky against my bare skin and getting stickier by the minute. He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the road.

I part my thighs. The car fills with the ripe scent of my pussy. His nostrils twitch but otherwise he ignores me. My nipples feel as huge and hungry as they do when he winds them with rubber bands. I try to keep still. Each whisper of silk across my breasts makes my cunt clench and weep.

He opens the car door – a gentleman Dom – and helps me out. The brief contact of palm on palm makes me shudder with want. I follow him up the stairs to his apartment, watching his strong buttocks shift in his trousers as he climbs. I think about how they tense and relax when he fucks me. I’m panting by the time we reach the third floor, but not from exertion.

The door swings open. He steps aside, gesturing for me to enter. Normally he’d have me pressed against the wall, knee in my crotch and hands under my blouse, before the lock clicked shut. Today he simply stands beside me, a half-smile on his full lips, as I survey the familiar room.

He has already set things up. In the dining area, the table has been pushed out of the way. Two of the chairs face us, side by side, flanked on the left by the ottoman that normally sits in front of the armchair. That armchair is the usual location for his spankings, but I can see that tonight will be different. He’s trying to minimize my contact with his body. Clever man.

“Strip,” he orders, as he has so many times before. My heart somersaults in my chest, as it always does. He seats himself in the middle chair to watch me remove the few clothes I’m wearing.

I can feel the weight of his eyes, tracing my curves, lingering on my swelling breasts. I move as slowly and sensuously as I can, working to arouse him, to undermine his resolution not to touch me. His pants are loose. I can’t really tell whether his cock is hard, but his lips are parted and there’s a flush on his cheeks.

“Behave yourself, Becca,” he warns. “No teasing, or you’ll get the cane after I’m finished with your spanking. In fact, you’re guaranteed the cane if you’re not naked in ten seconds.”

His threat has the desired effect. I tear off my blouse and a button goes flying into the corner. I don’t care. I stand naked before him, awaiting his instructions.

He makes me wait. Heat shimmers through me. Blood pounds in my ears. I study my toes and listen to my breath. Fear and excitement co-mingle, until I can’t tell one from the other. My bratty determination to make him touch me fades away, although my clit still throbs and my juices trickle down my thighs. All I want is to please him. I’ll wait forever if that is what it takes. Indeed, a part of me would rather wait than know what comes next.

“All right, Rebecca,” he says finally. “Kneel on the footstool and stretch your body across my legs.”

I look up to find that he has placed one of the throw pillows on his lap. I understand that he wants a barrier between my body and his possible erection. Plus the cushion is too soft to provide much friction. Obviously he has planned this carefully. I would not have expected less from him.

I am awkward as I clamber onto the ottoman and spread my body across his lap. The padded stool is the perfect height. When I bend at the hip, my belly rests on the cushion and my ass is in air, just to the right of his body. I rest my chest on the chair to his left, cradling my head in my crossed arms. I’m not uncomfortable. I feel stable and well-supported.

“Thighs together. That’s right. Bring your knees closer to the chair. Good.” I comply as promptly as I can. The shift raises my butt higher. I’m totally accessible. Completely vulnerable.

It’s delicious.

Usually he warms me up when he’s about to spank me. He will stroke and knead my buttocks, then pinch me hard just as I am starting to relax. More often than not he’ll slip a blunt finger between my cheeks and swirl it around in my pussy. He’ll tell me what a pervert I am, to be so wet at the mere thought of being beaten. I’ll be torn between embarrassment and pride. I know that this is one reason why he wants me.

Tonight, though, the only warm up is more waiting. He doesn’t touch me, though I can feel his eyes like ghostly fingers on my exposed flesh. My cunt feels heavy and swollen, pressed against the cushion. I shift my position the tiniest bit and pleasure sparks from my clit to my nipples and back again in a maddening cycle.

“Be still,” he orders. “No squirming around. No humping the pillow. This is a spanking, pure and simple. You may yell or cry as much as you want. But I don’t want you to move. That will spoil it.”

There’s menace in his voice, and promise. We are about to embark on a new adventure together.

“Do you understand?”

I’m sure he feels me tremble as I nod, but he doesn’t chide me. Instead he brings the flat of his hand down hard on my ass.

“Ow!” I’m startled more than hurt. The sting races like a wildfire from my cheek to my clit. The swollen nub compressed between my thighs is a red hot coal. “Ouch!” Before the echoes die he lands another blow, sharp and precise, on the opposite mound. Brief pain flares before pleasure drowns it.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and  Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New Release! Sharing Leah: A Polyamorous Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Menage #Polyamory #Triad #BDSM #Dominance #Submission #Bondage #MaleEgos #Sharing #MaineCoast #DownEast

Sharing LeahBlurb

Some women might think Leah’s existence heavenly – shared by two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still finds ecstatic release in surrendering to her master Greg.

But Daniel’s and Greg’s jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah’s life a hell.  They bring out the worst in each other. And in some sense, it’s all her fault. If she loved only one of them, if she made a choice, that would be that. In theory, at least.

Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she escapes to the beautiful Maine coast to ponder her future. Gradually she realizes that she cannot live without either of her lovers. But if the two men can’t settle their differences,  how can she bear to live with them?

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound with the title Truce of Trust. It has been revised, expanded and re-edited for this release.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/42-sharing-leah-a-polyamorous-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B094XPD83D

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B094XPD83D

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1084055

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sharing-leah-lisabet-sarai/1139457298?ean=2940164905293

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/sharing-leah-a-polyamorous-romance

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58040241-sharing-leah

*****

Excerpt

Leah stood before the door to Greg’s room, her palms wet and her heart slamming against her ribs. It was always this way—the almost sick feeling of excitement that she associated with him.

He opened the door before she could knock. His hearing was amazingly acute, like all his senses.

“Ah, you’re back, little one.” Six foot four and solid as a tank, Greg towered over her. Everything about him screamed power—the corded biceps straining against his shirt, the tree-trunk thighs, those velvet-brown eyes that pierced her soul, catching every nuance of emotion. His soft, rich voice mesmerized her. She had the urge to kneel at his feet, but before she could act on the impulse, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind them.

He pressed her body against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head. He needed only one huge hand to hold her fast. With the other, he unbuttoned her blouse. He peeled her bra away, revealing her brazenly rigid nipples. He pinched one of the protruding nubs, hard enough to make her yelp. Moisture gushed into her already sodden panties. He bent to lave away the pain with his hot mouth. Blessed relief flowed through her, only to be shattered by his teeth closing down on her flesh.

“I can smell you,” Greg crooned. “I could smell you coming down the hall. My little slut, come home to her master.”

“Yes, sir.” Some fragment of Leah’s consciousness cringed at Greg’s corny lines, yet they never failed to arouse her.

“But why are you wearing pants? You know that I want you to always be accessible.”

“Sorry, but I had a meeting…”

“No excuses. Take them off, now. Before I tear them off.” He released her wrists. Leah unfastened the waistband, pushed the trousers to her ankles and kicked them into a corner.

“Panties, too. I would think that you’d know better, by now.”

Greg’s voice was gruff, but he was smiling despite himself. His smile grew broader as she bared her sex to his fierce gaze.

“Turn around. Lean forward and put your hands against the wall. Spread your thighs.”

Her heart was pounding so hard that her chest hurt. She could scarcely breathe, she was so aroused.

She leaned into the wall, glad for the support, and arched her back, presenting her bare buttocks as he had taught her to do.

Her naked skin registered every motion, every shift in the air. She knew he was watching her, admiring her as yet unmarked flesh, making her wait. She sensed his own excitement, held in check. She felt the weight of his will, bearing down on her.

Would he spank her? Give her a taste of the crop? Most of his toys were stored in his dungeon, but she didn’t doubt that he kept one or two implements of punishment here in his bedroom, just in case.

Would he unsheathe his oversized cock and fuck her?

Her mind whirled, every vision lewder than the last. Without a word from him, without a touch, her lust rose to the boiling point. Her juices overflowed, dribbling down the insides of her thighs. She blushed, knowing he would not miss this detail.

One thick finger swept through her drenched folds. It lingered for the briefest instant on her aching clit. Leah cried out, trembling on the edge of orgasm from this single touch.

“You’re amazingly wet, slut. But then you always are, when I’m around.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New Release! Mastering Maya: A BDSM Erotic Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #BDSM #Dominance #Submission #Bondage #Discipline #KinkCommunity #Dominatrix #Femdom #Switch #Safeword #Consent #Boston

Mastering MayaBlurb

Mistress Maya’s precise discipline and unshakable self-possession are legendary in the Boston kink community. Newcomer Dom Shark is fascinated by her beauty and power from the moment he sees her flogging a sub at Club Inferno. Behind the Ice Queen’s mask of perfect control, he senses a spirit aching to submit. He’s determined to break through her defenses and bring her the same release she grants to the lucky slaves she tops.

When Maya dismisses Master Shark as young and inexperienced, he offers her a challenge: a night together, during which he’ll show her what it means to be mastered. If he fails to bring her to new heights of bliss, he agrees to become her slave.

Can he make Maya trust him enough to surrender? Or will the flawless, untouchable dominatrix take possession of his body as well as his heart?

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised, expanded and re-edited for this release.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/8574-mastering-maya-a-bdsm-erotic-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08SKJQFZ8

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08SKJQFZ8

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1063272

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mastering-maya-lisabet-sarai/1138601539?ean=2940164780654

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/mastering-maya-a-bdsm-erotic-romance

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56610584-mastering-maya

*****

Excerpt

While washing the stickiness from her hands, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Milk-white skin and ebony hair from her Black Irish father, cut severely to the level of her jaw; high cheekbones and plump lips from her Lebanese mother. Her nose was a bit prominent, and a few tiny lines decorated the corners of her green eyes, but, all in all, she approved. Not too bad for a thirty-six-year-old broad. Most of all, she liked the strength she saw in her expression. She lived her own life. She made her own decisions. She controlled herself. No one else could step in and take that control away.

But that strange Dom…

She’d felt oddly transparent under his scrutiny. It had been unsettling, but exciting, too. The challenge in his eyes had been too blatant to miss. He wanted her. He wanted to play.

A vision seized her—the nameless stranger bent naked over the foot board of her bed, with his arms spread wide and his wrists roped to the bedposts. Tattoos would wind around his biceps—barbed wire, or perhaps Celtic patterns. His taut, round butt elevated by pillows, he’d beg her to fuck him. She’d beat him first, though, marking his long thighs with her crop, paddling his butt cheeks to the color of raw hamburger. Maybe she’d clip weights to his scrotum and nipples, or trap his swollen prick in a tight leather cage.

And he’d plead for more—more pain, more humiliation, more proof of her power. She’d never head his voice but she imagined it, deep and a bit gravelly, a contrast with his James Dean bad-boy appearance. It would be so sweet, finally giving him what he craved, donning her harness and driving her prick into his ass.

The image was so vivid! She dimly realized that she’d sunk to her haunches, her thighs splayed open, just inside the ladies’ room door. Three fingers of one hand were buried in her cunt. With her other, she plucked at her nipples through her bra, twisting them almost as hard as she imagined doing to the stranger.

She settled the pad of her thumb against her clit, while her fingers delved deeper. She was already close to the edge, self-stimulation combining with fantasy to ramp her back to the brink where James had left her, only ten minutes before.

Someone will see…

She arched her back, screwing the stranger Dom for all she was worth. The knob near the base of her dildo rubbed over her clit as she rammed into him, giving him what they both craved. He whimpered with pleasure, his strong body totally open to her power.

You’re losing control…

Doubts buzzed like mosquitoes, distracting her from her pleasure. She focused on her fantasy sub, reading his body language, sure that he wanted more. He tightened his butt around her silicone cock, transmitting the pressure to her sensitized tissues. “You’re mine,” she cried in her daydream, drilling into his ass as though to tear him open.

You’re mine.

The thought intruded. It was Roger’s voice at first, warm and cultured, seductive and treacherous. Then it deepened and grew rougher. All at once, her fantasy shifted.

She was the one tied spread-eagled with her ass in the air, not just her wrists but her ankles too, the ropes so tight she could scarcely move. Her shoulders ached with the pull of the bonds. Her cunt dripped onto the carpet. A blindfold hid her tormentor but she couldn’t ignore his fingers, poking into her to gather her pussy juice then smearing it over her anus. The rude fingers probed, loosening her, triggering sharp stabs of delight. She contracted her muscles, trying futilely to keep him out, but the fingers dancing in her cunt melted any determination to resist. “You’re mine,” he repeated, whoever he was, rubbing the knob of his huge-seeming cock against her back entrance. “Let me in.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and  Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New Release! Comfort & Joy: Red-hot Holiday Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)

Blurb

Kick off the festive season with this red-hot celebration of holiday love. An aging author of kinky romance surrenders to the charm of her rock star neighbor. A selfish, cynical stock broker finds himself rescued by a spunky homeless girl. On her Dom husband’s orders, a devoted submissive provides Christmas service to his best friend. A gay grad student moonlighting at a sex shop discovers it’s definitely worthwhile to stay open on Christmas Eve.

Let Lisabet warm you up with a generous portion of comfort, joy and sensual pleasure.

Buy Links

Amazon US –  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08P2CM6KL

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08P2CM6KL

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56030561-comfort-joy

*****

X-rated Excerpt  (from “A Contract for Christmas”)

Stripping off his shirt with typical economy and ease, he folded it on the vanity stool. His jeans followed. Before he set them down, he extracted his belt from the waist. “I’m going to want this,” he said, laying it alongside my outstretched body so I could smell the leather. “And these, of course.” He dropped five or six condoms onto the bed table.

I couldn’t help laughing. “How many times do you plan to fuck me, James?”

He kneeled between my legs, his engorged cock bobbing as he moved. “As many times as you can handle, woman.” He picked up the belt, running it over his palm. “Then I’ll fuck you some more.”

He loomed over me, fierce and unsmiling. A burst of fear tingled through me.

“But first, I’ll beat you. Do you agree?”

I closed my eyes, momentarily overwhelmed. No one but Greg had ever inflicted the sort of pain I knew the belt would produce. Even in our three-way scenes, my husband had always taken the lead when it came to punishment. I was scared. What if James couldn’t read my signals? Would he know, the way Greg always did, when I’d had too much?

He sensed my uncertainty, at least. His voice was gentle when he spoke again.

“What’s your safe word, Bella?”

“Artichoke. But with Greg I never…”

“Use it if you need to. I think I know you well enough walk that fine line between not enough and too much, but don’t be afraid to stop me if I’m wrong.”

“And if you really don’t want me to whip you,” he added with a grin, “just say so. I have lots of alternative ideas.”

“No, no—I want it—I want your belt—it’s just that you—you…”

“I’m not Greg,” he answered. “I know. But I am your master, at least for tonight. You’ll know that soon.”

Without warning, he brought the belt down just above my right knee. A line of fire stitched its way up my thigh, then jumped to ignite my sex.

“Oh, God—James!—oh—” I bit back my words, afraid he’d misunderstand, that he’d stop. Instead, he lashed at my other thigh, a strong, pure blow that only fanned the conflagration.

I’m not a pain slut like some subs. Mostly I endure the hurt in order to please my master. This beating, though, was different. The leather played across my skin, cutting, bruising, heating me to a fever that was like nothing I’d never felt before. Pain, but somehow not pain—not when I watched the flow of muscle under James’s skin, the graceful arc of the strap as he prepared another stroke, the dark energy dancing in his eyes.

He had perfect control over his instrument. Every lash landed exactly where he intended. For the most part he concentrated on my thighs, but occasionally he’d flick the leather across my nipples. I screamed, thrashed, strained at my bonds, driven higher each time the belt connected with my flesh.

James whipped me into a frenzy. Between my legs the ache built and built, and built some more. I needed to come, more than I needed air. Yet still he whipped me, and I let him. I understood that was what he needed—what only I could give him.

The belt edged closer to my cunt. Dazed and drunk with lust, still I guessed how this would end. Yet his final stroke took me by surprise—the one that kissed my clit and sent me spinning into climax.

Pleasure poured through me in a flood that cleansed me of the pain. It left me stranded. I lay on the bed, limp in my bonds, gasping and shuddering as though I’d just escaped drowning.

“Are you all right, Bella?”  James peered down at me, looking concerned.

“Oh, yes,” I sighed. “Wonderful. Thank you, sir.”

This time, that felt right.

My new master broke into a grin. “Don’t mention it.” He reached across my body to retrieve a condom from the table. His cock grazed my belly, smearing me with pre-cum.

“But you haven’t come yet.”

“I plan to remedy that shortly.” I watched his deft movements as he rolled the latex down his shaft. I wanted nothing more than to feel that hardness inside me.

“By the way, when you’re with me, you don’t need permission to come. Come as many times as want. As you can. Starting now.”

He drove his cock into my drenched cunt. That one stroke was enough to kick me back into a screaming release.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and  Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh