Cheeky Spanking Stories is on Tour

by | Oct 31, 2012 | | 0 Comments

Cheeky Spanking StoriesThe recently released anthology, Cheeky Spanking Stories, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel is now on tour. And as part of that tour, I’m posting an excerpt from my story in the anthology, which also happens to be the first one! Exciting or what?

*****

Excerpt from The Perfect Dom

“Spank me. Is that an invitation?”

Shit. Mia had completely forgotten about him. Her flatmate, Katy, had asked if it was okay if her brother could stay on their sofa for a couple of nights. His own place was being fitted with a new bathroom and conditions over there weren’t exactly tantamount to hygiene. Mia had been rushing around in order to get to work and hadn’t really been paying attention, so she’d just agreed and then promptly forgotten.

Now, however, she was being treated to a huge and incredibly embarrassing reminder. Katy was on a nightshift at the hospital so when Mia had woken up at 9p.m.—her own body clock being on that of working in the club, though tonight was her night off—she’d deemed it safe to wander to the kitchen to get a drink in what she was wearing.

Big mistake. Alex was sitting on the sofa, an eyebrow quirked and a leering grin on his face. He held his iPad, and earphones hung around his neck. He’d obviously been watching a film or playing some ridiculous game before Mia had flipped the light on and sauntered through the living room in nothing but a skimpy vest and hotpants. The hotpants were, of course, what he was referring to. The fuchsia garment had SPANK ME emblazoned across the ass in large black lettering.

Mia gave Alex a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone. He, however, simply grinned even more widely, then said, “Well? Do you need a firm hand to that luscious butt of yours? Like a spanking, do you?”

Mia sighed. “Shut up, Alex. It’s none of your business. I’m just getting a drink. Get back to your damn gadget and leave me alone.”

“Oooh, someone’s defensive. I’m just saying, you must have them for a reason. A statement like that printed on your backside would definitely be construed as an invitation in my book.”

“Well, maybe it is an invitation, Alex. But it’s certainly not directed at you. Now if you’d kindly stop passing judgement on my non-existent sex life I’ll get my drink and get out of your way.”

Without giving him chance to reply, Mia flounced off into the kitchen and made herself a drink of squash. As she stood at the sink, Alex’s voice came from right behind her, startling her and making her drop the glass. Luckily, it fell a mere couple of inches into the sink, but it didn’t stop Mia turning furiously to Alex to give him a piece of her mind.

“What?!” Alex said, his hands spread wide in supplication as he received yet another cool stare. “All I said was that if the invitation was directed at me, I’d definitely take you up on it. And I’d do it right, too.”

Mia felt a mixture of embarrassment and anger colour and heat her face as Alex’s gaze assessed her from top to bottom. Much to her surprise, a further jolt of heat hit her groin and her nipples stiffened against the thin material of her vest top. She put it down to the fact that she was going through a dry patch. After all, if you go long enough without a good seeing to, people you wouldn’t normally consider start to look more and more attractive. Any port in a storm and all that. And as for Alex’s boast that he’d do it right, well…

“Really? I’d like to see you try.”

Fuck. Where had that come from? The look on Alex’s face told Mia that she had in fact said the words out loud. He was totally taken aback. He obviously hadn’t expected his blatant flirting to get him anywhere, and now she was challenging him.

*****

Want to get your hands on this spank-tastic anthology? Then check out the buy links here.

Guest Blogger: Jilly Boyd

by | Oct 30, 2012 | | 0 Comments

I would like to start by both thanking and apologizing to Lucy for ever letting me take over her blog!

Right. My name is Jillian, of the house of Boyd. Which I like to imagine is a massive palace, towering ominously over London, but is actually a small and lovely flat in the heart of Essex.

I write erotic fiction, poetry of all shapes and sizes and a blog, called Lady Laid Bare. I’ve been writing for over a year and a half now, which is basically peanuts compared to geniuses like Ian Rankin and Neil Gaiman. Then again, neither Misters Rankin nor Gaiman write erotic fiction.

Erotica is a genre that I’m still getting used to. When I started writing it, I had literally no clue what I was on about. I was a sprightly young virginal thing and all my knowledge of sex scenes came from osmosis. I remember sitting on my bed, writing what I thought was going to be my bestseller debut, with a copy of an erotica anthology in my hands, just copying bits and pieces. I thought it came out really well, and I was dead chuffed about the result.

Yeah, it was a bit crappers, like you might have suspected.

Looking back, my attitudes have changed massively. I had the desire to write, but no idea of anything relating to the craft. I had the urge to write, but not the urge to actually bother with picking up a pen and getting on with it.

When I first coined on to erotica, I felt a bit scared. Erotica was a genre that I associated with Mills and Boon and words like “throbbing member”. I didn’t want to write all of that! I wanted to write things I would like, things that would get me going.

But then I started reading. I got in the know. And I started meeting people, wonderful writers who were so skilled that their passion turned me on. I wanted to get to stepping and write something good!

It took me months to get into the habit of writing and writing a lot, and to be honest, I’m still learning. But you really will not achieve anything if you do nothing.

That would be my first tip to all of you budding writers. Pick up a pen and get on with it. Taking about being a writer and daydreaming about holding your Man Booker prize is all good and well, but it’s never going to come to you if you just keep doing sod all. Write, I say! Even if it’s absolute bullcrap, write your little socks off. The only way to do it is to do it!

My second tip are these wise words from my friend Andrew Shaffer : “18 months is peanuts.”

He said it to me after I lamented about being at the graft for over 18 months with little result. After thinking about it, it kicked me in to touch massively. 18 months does not a writer make. Especially if you are like me and you’ve basically spent 18 months pillocking about thinking “This is excellent” and then giving up entirely.

Live, eat, drink, breathe, write. It should be your motto! You will get results if you have patience.

My third tip would be to do research. Read the books you want to read, read the articles you want to read. Freewrite. Experiment. Make good art, as Neil Gaiman once said. Only when you feel like you’re walking down Oxford Street completely bare-naked, vulnerable to the world, will you know you’re doing it right.

Fourthly, get over your shame of writing sex! If you’re anything like me and you struggle with even thinking about the word “penis”, let alone writing it, this helps. Read a lot of erotica. Talk sex, walk sex. Only when you actually stop giggling when you’re describing something like oral are you able to write erotica.

And fifthly, for gods sakes, enjoy. Enjoy the process, enjoy the art you make, enjoy the maddening mindfuck that is being a writer. Because it is lovely, it is amazing and it will set you free.

It is now mid September. I’ve been writing for nineteen long, lovely and utterly bonkers months. And I want to write more. I want to write until my hands bleed and my fingers just give out from the effort. Because writing is what keeps me going.

Let writing be a good thing in your life.

Make good art.

http://barenakedlady.wordpress.com/

Sunday Snog – Miss Pemberton’s Drawers

by | Oct 28, 2012 | | 0 Comments

Sunday Snog

Miss Pemberton's DrawersHere’s a saucy snippet from my story, Miss Pemberton’s Drawers, which appears in the Xcite Books anthology of the same name.

Careful not to crush her with his weight, Owen leaned down and captured Miss Pemberton’s swollen mouth in a kiss. Her eyes fluttered open and he saw them crinkle at the corners as she eagerly reciprocated. It was a chaste kiss—both of them were too breathless for anything more, and soon Owen pulled away and rolled onto the table next to her. She twisted her head to look at him, and they grinned at one another, basking in the afterglow of their respective orgasms.

After a few minutes, when he’d regained his presence of mind and the ability to speak, Owen said, “So, er, Miss Pemberton, was this a one-off thing, or what?”

“Bloody hell, don’t call me Miss Pemberton, you sound like one of my pupils! It’s Sally. And actually, if you’re willing, I was wondering if you’d like to check my drawers on a more regular basis.”

Owen laughed. “Is the sky blue? Though maybe we shouldn’t make fucking on school property a regular occurrence, eh? I need this job.”

“Agreed. Next time, Mr. Caretaker, you’ll have to make a home visit.”


Check out the blurb and buy links here.

Also, don’t forget to head back to Victoria’s site and see what other luscious lip to lip action other authors have posted. Yum!

Guest Blog: Justine Elyot

by | Oct 26, 2012 | | 2 Comments

His House of SubmissionCountry House

There’s something about a country house, isn’t there? Especially when it comes to erotica. So many of my favourite stories take place in remote ancestral piles that I could almost classify it as a fetish.

I’ve indulged this taste of mine in my new Mischief novella, His House of Submission. Jasper’s house full of antique furniture, set in lavish grounds, makes for a perfect bubble away from the real world – a fantasy place where he and Sarah, the graduate student he has hired to catalogue his collections of artefacts, can play to their heart’s content, away from prying eyes. (Or can they?)

I’m a lover of rolling lawns, overgrown walled gardens, gravel paths and statuary outside. Inside I like a huge central staircase, wood panelling, writing desks and four poster beds. All of these are in evidence at Jasper’s house. I wish I could live there. With Jasper.

Here’s an excerpt:

‘What room are you working in at the moment?’ he asked.

‘The, uh, the one with the piano.’

‘The drawing room,’ he corrected me. ‘I’ll be in the study. Come and wait outside in, shall we say, two hours? That’ll give me enough time to devise something suitable.’

Instant shivers. Something suitable.

‘Run along then, Sarah,’ he said with a ghoulish smile. ‘We mustn’t neglect our work, must we?’

But I’m afraid I did neglect my work.

Over and over again I came to with a start, some ornament or other in my hand, after drifting into reverie. If I carried on like that, something was going to get broken. And then what might be my fate? I kept going to the door and looking around it, towards the study, listening. Sometimes I could hear his voice, faintly, making telephone calls, or the tap of a keyboard.

While he worked, he was thinking of me. Thinking of what was to be done with me, for my shameless behaviour with his property.

And while I worked, I was thinking of him. Thinking of how he compelled and disturbed and attracted and repelled me. I had never met a man who could do all those things simultaneously before. Perhaps there was no other man in the world who could.

The hands of all the antique clocks made their slow forward progress through time until the two hours had elapsed and I put down my clipboard and pencil, patted down my skirt and left the room.

I could keep walking, walk to the front door, walk to the car, get in the car, drive away.

But I stopped at the study door and lifted my hand and…

I heard his chair creak.

I knocked.

He didn’t reply.

I knocked again.

‘Come in.’

The study was a glorious room and his desk was one of my favourite pieces in the whole house. Mahogany with brass handles and a green leather writing area in the shape of a cross, on top of which his computer looked somewhat incongruous. He should be writing longhand with parchment and ink. There was a raised gallery at the back of the desk, along which were perched a procession of film awards, the Palme d’Or in pride of place.

I breathed in the beeswax and stillness, letting it calm my jangling nerves.

‘Sarah,’ he said, sitting back in his oxblood leather chair. ‘Now we come to the real test.’

‘Do we?’

He opened a drawer and brought out the strop. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, staring at it.

 

Uh oh! What happens next? Well, here’s the blurb and a buy link:

He’s a collector with some kinky interests on the side. She’s here to catalogue his possessions. But will she end up being one of them?

Sarah turns up at Jasper Jay’s country house thinking she has been hired to make an inventory of his large collection of historical artefacts. But when she and her lover, Will, are caught by the boss sneaking a peek at some of his more private pieces, she starts to suspect an ulterior motive. Alone with Jasper Jay in his secluded manor, Sarah finds herself enthralled by the enigmatic collector, especially given the intimate interest she shares with him. Pretty soon, they’re entangled in an intense relationship of domination and submission that excludes the rest of the world. Until it intrudes, in the form of a vengeful Will, bent on exposing everything his erstwhile boss has worked so hard to keep secret.

Available at Amazon etc. and via Mischief Books website: http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/his-house-submission/

It’s Time to Celebrate Howloween!

by | Oct 26, 2012 | | 36 Comments

HowloweenWho says trick-or-treating is strictly for the kids?

Welcome to the Howloween Blog Hop! 270+ authors….TONS of goodies to be won. So put on your costumes (or PJs whatever ) and go a knockin’ a each of the blogs on the hop!

Before you go entering the giveaway and hopping away, though, I just wanted to share a spooky excerpt from my lesbian paranormal tale, Weekend at Wilderhope Manor, which coincidentally, will be free from 27th – 31st October, so hit Amazon from the 27th to grab your FREE copy!:

That decided, the girls walked in. Stephanie, the more logical of the two, led the way through the narrow corridors in search of the elusive centre. She felt confident at first, but as the twists and turns continued, she felt less so. That and the fact that she’d been right about the creep factor. It was a clear but not particularly bright day, resulting in very little natural light penetrating the hedges that made up the maze. It was navigable but incredibly gloomy, and Stephanie sensed that Jenny was staying as close behind her as possible without treading on the backs of her shoes. Honestly, she didn’t blame her. Even Stephanie was starting to feel a little spooked. The silence wasn’t helping. From their sheltered position, they could see glimpses of the sky, but they couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of their own footsteps and breathing.

Stephanie picked up the pace, albeit subtly. She didn’t want to worry Jenny, but she wasn’t quite sure where they were and she was feeling really quite nervous. Despite the silence and the fact they hadn’t seen another soul since they’d left the house, Stephanie suddenly had the oddest feeling that they weren’t alone. It was a silly notion, because the walls of the maze were so thick that you couldn’t see through them, so it wasn’t like anyone could be secretly spying on them. But Stephanie simply could not shake her apprehension. She desperately wanted to get out of the maze, but saw no way of doing it quickly. Even turning back wouldn’t guarantee a swift exit because they wouldn’t remember each twist and turn they’d taken. They could just end up stuck in here even longer.

Suddenly, Jenny’s Alice in Wonderland comment didn’t seem so stupid after all. Refusing to let Jenny sense her fear, she looked steadfastly in front of her and carried on walking. Then she heard the crack of a twig which sounded like it came from up ahead. Unfortunately, Jenny heard it too.

“Wh – what was that?!” Jenny said, clutching onto the back of Stephanie’s coat.

Now, use the Rafflecopter below to enter my awesome giveaway, then click this link to keep hopping!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Another Review for Ditched!

by | Oct 23, 2012 | | 0 Comments

DitchedJust spotted online, this quickie review of my first m/m erotic story, Ditched. If you love military gay stuff, you’ll love this. Hopefully 😉

Here’s what Day Dreaming had to say:

“It was fast paced and so hot that it even had me panting. I would have loved for this story to be longer to see how this could have developed into an actual relationship. All in all, I enjoyed this short story which satisfied my reading habit.”

Check out the full review here.

Grab your copy of Ditched here.

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