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Showing posts with label BDSM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BDSM. Show all posts

Wednesday, 28 May 2014

Knowing Her Place with Kay

Please welcome my sexy writing buddy and lovely Brit Babe to tell us about her new book, Ms Kay Jaybee!

Knowing Her Place – Her Teacher’s Teacher.
A huge thank you and a nice big cuddle for my dear friend, and fellow Brit Babe, Tabitha, for letting me gate crash her site today to shout a bit about my brand new novel!

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

The trilogy began back in 2012 with The Perfect Submissive – the story of Miss Jess Sanders’ unexpected journey into the world of professional sexual submission under the tutelage of hotel manageress, Mrs Peters.
Then early last year, the submissive saga continued with The Retreat- and Jess finds herself unceremoniously whisked away from Fables to Scotland, into the custody of her most feared client, David Proctor, and a very unusual erotically pseudo fairytale...

In my latest novel, Knowing Her Place, the final instalment of Jess’s story, she has to face her toughest challenge of all- to find her way back to where it all began- the Fables Hotel.
Blurb-
With her head full of unanswered questions, exhausted from her fairytale experience at the hands of Dr Ewen, Lady Tia, and the staff of the adult entertainment service provided by The Retreat, Jess Sanders is desperate to leave Scotland, and return to her usual submissive position at the exclusive Fables Hotel in Oxford.
Having been thwarted in his plans to keep Jess at The Retreat permanently, its owner David Proctor isn’t willing to let Jess go back to her dominatrix, Miss Sarah, and 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 unknown addresses in her hand, Jess Sanders is placed in a car and driven from The Retreat towards England. With no idea what or who awaits her at the first stop, all Jess can hope for is that her journey will eventually take her back to where she belongs.
To 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.
Ms Webster. The old lady who, many years ago, tutored Jess’s mistress Mrs Peters in the art of domination and submission.
Not only does Jess learn 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 on their own, you’ll get far more out of Jess’s adventure if you follow it from the beginning.
The Perfect Submissive

The Retreat

Knowing Her Place


Thanks for allowing me to visit today to share a little from my latest novel Tabitha!!
Happy reading everyone,
Kay xx

Bio-
Kay Jaybee wrote The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite, 2012-14), and the novels Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), and The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), (Xcite 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies Christmas Kink, (KDP, 2013), The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 80 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.
Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk
You can follow Kay on -

Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane – www.jennykane.co.uk



Tuesday, 13 May 2014

Brit Babes Chat & Giveaway on Goodreads

Hello, hello! I'm dashing by to tell you about a couple of things - The Brit Babes are doing a chat over at BDSM group on Goodreads, see below and a paperback giveaway - see to the right...
Also - since I'm talking about the Brit Babes, Lucy Felthouse, Kd Grace and Kay Jaybee have all been nominated for the best erotica author in the ETO Awards - you can vote for them here! So proud of the lovely lassies x x x


Please join five of the Brit Babes on the 14th and 15th of May on Goodreads. We are going to be chatting and giving away prizes and generally causing mayhem! If you want to party with us be sure to join the BDSM group (a few days in advance so you can be approved in time) and then come on over. Looking forward to seeing you there!

Friday, 14 February 2014

Sexy Just Walked into Town - oh yeah!


Well lookee here my lovelies - my Brit Babe ladies and I have been working hard on a top secret gift for you and your reading pleasure - here you are - mwoah!

A VALENTINE’S DAY PRESENT, JUST FOR YOU – THE BRIT BABES ANTHOLOGY - “SEXY JUST WALKED INTO TOWN” - GO GRAB YOUR FREE/DISCOUNTED COPY THEN CURL UP WITH YOUR LOVER AND GET IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE. 

Available FREE!
Sexy Just Walked Into Town is a collection of delicious erotic and romantic stories from the Brit Babes. This group of eight British authors, which I’m proud to belong to, have put together a book of tales to tease and tantalise you, each one a sample of the individual Babes’ voices and styles. You’ll find contemporary, BDSM, same-sex loving, ménage a trois, paranormal, sporty, military, Rubenesque and more. There’s something to suit everyone here including a few Brit Babe collaborations.

Ranging from sweetly vanilla to so-hot-it-will-blow-your-mind, the Brit Babes aim to please in every literary fantasy department. Their heroes are strong, determined and soul-achingly divine and their heroines sassy, sexy and not afraid to grab what they want. Passion and pleasure is the name of the game, romance and raunch a top priority and it all comes with a delightful sprinkle of kink.

With a whole host of awards, best-sellers and accolades between us, the Babes know you’ll find something in this anthology that will keep you turning the pages and squirming on your seat. Then, if you like what you read, check out the individual authors’ websites to investigate their collection of published works. Also visit the Brit Babes' home on the web which acts as a library for the hundreds of books we’ve published. Tell your friends, spread the word, because one thing you can be sure of, is when the Brit Babes arrive, sexy has just walked into town!

And please, if you enjoy this anthology, leave a review. The Babes will be forever grateful.

Happy Valentine's Day!


AVAILABLE FROM

SMASHWORDS  - FREE

Lots of love from The Brit Babes x x x



Sunday, 15 December 2013

The Novice Christmas Chapter Tour with Harlem Dae

It is my awesome pleasure to take part in Harlem Dae's, The Novice Christmas Chapter Tour :D I have chapter 7 for your naughty yuletide delight...
This is rather more saucy than I usually have on my blog - just letting you know so you can scarper if you're not of age (you shouldn't be here anyway if that's the case...) or get a bit more comfortable if you are...

Welcome to The Novice Christmas Chapter Tour. This is a very special tour as over twelve days the

first twelve chapters of The Novice, book #1 in the Sexy as Hell series by Harlem Dae - http://www.harlemdae.com  will be published, one per day, per blog, for you to get a taste of Victor and Zara’s wild and erotic journey. A big thank you to Tabitha for hosting us today!


About Sexy as Hell – Sexy as Hell is an erotic trilogy that will submerge you into the black heart of a world of bondage and discipline, Dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.
Dare to take this twisting journey with Victor and you’ll learn the ropes with him, experience every carnal sensation and fall into a dark and dangerous love that grips like a fist and binds like a collar.
Get to know Zara, his sultry teacher, and you’ll gasp when she doles out her sinful instructions but then delight in the stunning results she not only demands but achieves. It seems Heaven and Hell are not so far apart when she holds the reins.
Victor has his layers peeled back, but when he does the same to try to get to his Vixen’s core, a revelation appears. Because Zara is a woman whose vast sexual experience is both her strength and her weakness; she can inflict pain and pleasure, make lusty demands and instruct, but she needs so much more, she needs…
Yes, the time has come to for her to admit to her needs and confess to the repairing her soul hungers for. A sea of memories, a lifetime of control requires an acknowledgement that will cut through her barriers, and there’s only one man up for the job—her novice, her student, her newly trained monster, Victor Partridge.


Please note, in order to enjoy Victor and Zara’s adventures, the trilogy must be read in order.

The Novice is the first book, the second The Player and finally The Vixen. Here is the back cover information for The Novice.


London – one meeting, one month of lessons and a landslide of depraved new desires.


My journey to hell started with a decaff coffee. Nothing more than a grey mug full of dull-brown liquid devoid of its most useful ingredient.
One sip, one smile, one touch of her hand and it was soon clear my life wasn’t destined to stay dull. Oh, no, suddenly I had a month of bedroom education planned by a sultry vixen who intended to broaden my horizons beyond my usual peach-pink palette. 
She wanted to take me to deep purples and navy blues and the pitch blackness that was pure sin. And on the other side of that blackness was a place that might look like Hell, with debauchery and wantonness, people playing devil’s advocate, luring innocents into the hotter, steamier corners of the world.
Her world.
Oh, yes, she promised each night to take me there and paint me an orange-and-red picture that would come alive, flickering like flames, enticing me, holding me spellbound and eager to learn more. To touch, explore, drown in coming.
And drown I would. I was no match for her tricks and taunts. My only chance of survival was to show her that I was no vanilla virgin. I had a rainbow of mastery up my sleeve, too, and if she just opened her eyes, she might be dazzled enough to stay—stay and take ‘my’ lessons. If she didn’t kill me first, that was, with pleasure.


* * * * *


So what are people saying about the Sexy as Hell Trilogy? I’m pleased to report that it’s all good, no, more than good. This trilogy has been described on Amazon as “far better than the 50 Shades of Grey”, one reader said, “I've read many erotic novels and BDSM books but these ones are by far my favourites.” another stated, “I was looking to be titillated yes, but instead was captured by the story of Zara and Victor.” You can read all the glowing reviews on the Harlem Dae website, plus read the FREE Harlem Dae magazine with all the inside gossip about the Sexy as Hell Trilogy and what it was like for two authors writing nearly 300k together and how their characters inspired them to keep on writing.
So finally, with just a last warning that this story is boundary pushing, hot, edgy and dark and not for those of a delicate disposition. It’s BDSM primarily but has a slow burn romance that tips everything on its head as feelings intensify and souls are bared.


Links

Tour Information/Where to find all the chapters - http://www.harlemdae.com/p/sexy-as-hell-on-tour.html


Harlem Dae Website - http://www.harlemdae.com

The Novice – Amazon
                       Amazon UK


The Player – Amazon -
                     Amazon UK


The Vixen – Amazon
                    Amazon UK   
Chapter Seven


I didn’t feel entirely comfortable handing my precious Porsche keys over to Carlos. A big brute of a man, Spanish if I was correct in placing his accent. But what choice did I have? I had to go with Zara and watch her show.
Luckily Zara seemed to have a bond with Carlos, and I could only hope, because he seemed enraptured by her, he’d look after my car.
If all else failed, the damn thing was insured. It would just be difficult to explain the unusual venue for the valet parking.
Inside the club, I shifted my bum on the same bucket seat I’d sat in the night before. The one Zara had given me my first blowjob in. The wide window to the showroom was in blackness, and alone in the small room, all I could hear was the sound of my breathing and the friction of the skin on my palms as I rubbed my hands together.
My mind was in overdrive. She’d given nothing away about the theme of her show on the way here, other than she wouldn’t be whipping herself into a frenzy. But the look the red-haired girl at reception had given me made me nervous. More nervous than last night. She’d studied me like I was prey—prey who’d been hunted, captured and was about to be devoured.
Suddenly the curtains opened and the lights in the room came on. As opposed to the stark whiteness of the flagellating show, now the lighting was a subdued scarlet. Dark shadows stretched over the floor and against the wall opposite.
My attention, however, didn’t linger on the aesthetics of the hues, because standing in the middle of the room, wearing black leather hot-pants, a blood-red corset and the same thigh-length boots she’d travelled to work in, was Zara.
Her ponytail swung as she turned to face me. She raised her left hand, pressed a kiss to her palm and blew it my way.
Fuck, my cock was bloating by the second. I couldn’t deny she was bloody gorgeous. Like no woman I’d seen before, not least because she had the sole of her right foot pressed onto a man’s back. The heel was creating quite a dent in his flesh, visible even from where I sat. It must be painful.
He was on the floor, on hands and knees, head hanging down, black hood over his face. He was naked, and I could see that his cock was turgid and straining towards his belly.
The guy was big—his muscles had that over-worked, pumped quality to them—and his olive-skinned back was thick and wide. I noticed a trail of dark hairs in the cleft of his arse. The same coating covered his thighs, calves and forearms.
It was then I spotted what Zara had in her other hand. A whip. But not a long, cowboy-style one, it was short and had several strands, more like a flogger, I supposed. Damn, she’d said she wasn’t going to…
She cracked it down on her leg, the one hoisted up. I flinched at the sharp snapping sound of leather on leather. So did the man. His cock bobbed.
Zara’s lips tightened, giving her face a stern, determined, don’t-fuck-with-me look. She removed her foot and walked around the form on the floor, studying him like one would eye something they were thinking of purchasing.
Her long legs were elegant and slim, the boots as sexy as I’d ever seen a pair of footwear. A sudden image of her thighs wrapped around my hips, while she was wearing those boots, besieged me. The material would be cool, sort of slippery but maybe not once it was laced with sweat. As I pumped into her they’d cling to my skin, tug, squeak. Maybe the sharp silver heels would catch my buttocks, prod me, urge me on.
God, I was at full hardness now. The same as the man on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable in jeans.
His physical form was twice that of Zara’s frame, yet he was cowering down, unmoving, his body tense as though he was unsure of what she would do to him next.
She traced the strands of the flogger down his back.
He trembled.
A tingle ran over my spine.
With a sudden flick of her wrist, the strands whipped his right buttock. He made no sound, but the forward flinch of his entire body told me it had hurt.
Damn it, my own buttock smarted and I clenched my arse cheeks, raising them slightly off the chair.
Why would he let her hit him like that?
I leant forward, spying a drop of pre-cum on the end of his cock. It hadn’t been there before. Fuck, my prick was so bloody hard, straining against the tight denim of my jeans. The tingle in my spine and the heat in my buttocks were racing to my dick, enlarging it, engorging it.
Why the hell was I turned on by this crazy shit?
Zara moved, so her back was to me, and walked over to a silver trolley heavy with implements I had no definite names for. The hot-pants were so tight, so short they travelled up the gulley of her crotch and exposed the entire bottom third of her bum cheeks. Her inner thighs didn’t touch—even right up to her cunt her legs were a half inch apart.
I clenched my fists, blew out a long, slow breath. The criss-crossed lace of the corset hung down a few inches, swaying like a short tail, matching the swish of her sleek hair.
She spun, looked directly at me and held up a long, black, tapered dildo, the end shiny, as though greased. For a moment she didn’t move, just stared at me, quizzically, as if curious to see my reaction.
I kept my face neutral, my lips pressed together and chin tilted. I couldn’t deny the thought of watching her use a dildo on herself didn’t turn me on. It did, a lot. Especially when I was sitting in here, in safety, and nothing was required of me but to watch and enjoy. Feast on her spectacle and see how she made herself come. Maybe it would give me some tips for the future—if I decided to fuck her, that was.
She tilted one side of her mouth, as though she’d read my thoughts. But of course she hadn’t. How could she?
Her attention left me and she wandered over to her plaything. With slow, teasing strokes, she swept the flogger down his back several times. He was shaking slightly, his right buttock now burnt red from the swipe she’d given him.
Suddenly she treated the left buttock to the same hard whack. Again I jumped—it seemed as though I was rushing to imagine the sensation, the skin on my bum tingling and warm.
His head snapped up, and he drew one hand, though pressed onto the floor, into a fist.
That had hurt. Zara had put all her strength into the blow, and with what, about nine, ten, tails to strike his flesh, it was a lot of strips of agony to cope with.
But now she was squatting behind him, smoothing a palm over the blushed buttocks. Caressing sweeps of her hand rubbing away the pain. He shoved backwards onto her touch and hung his head low. She manoeuvred him slightly so his arse was angled directly towards my window.
I nibbled my bottom lip, tried to create a little more space for my cock by shifting the crotch of my jeans.
Zara handled this big brute like he was an object, a slave, something to toy with.
Why was he allowing it?
Getting paid, I supposed. To be in the show. No wonder he wore a hood; he must be mortified that a slip of a girl could beat him and keep him on his hands and knees.
I let out a shaky breath. Wondered why the thought of being in his position made my stomach clench and my bollocks retract. It wasn’t like I would ever be kneeling before her, bare-arsed and submissive.
I shoved my hand through my hair; my brow was a little sweaty. When would Zara get those hot-pants off and put the dildo to good use? Would she make her victim pleasure her?
A glut of something scarily like jealousy filled my stomach. I didn’t want this big, hooded man to touch her. Okay, so she wasn’t mine, but still. This thing, whatever it was, was something we were doing together. She’d asked me to be exclusive to her for a month—surely it worked both ways.
I rubbed my hand down my cheek, stubble scratching my palm. My breath caught in my throat, and if my arse cheeks had been clenched before, now they were tight enough to crush a beer can.
Fucking hell.
Because the dildo, it seemed, wasn’t for Zara’s pussy, it was for Hooded Man’s arse.
I hadn’t seen that coming.
Zara was moving the black tip around the outside of his puckered hole. I was sure I had the best view in the house, if that’s what you could call seeing another bloke’s arsehole buggered—not really my thing.
The first inch of the dildo disappeared as she stretched him open and then she began to move it in and out. I could make out every expansion and contraction, see his balls quivering, his body tensing.
Oh, God, my bollocks were boiling and my arsehole had clamped tighter. Zara was sliding the long dildo—or was it a butt plug?—almost out and then back in a little further each time. Her fingers, with long red nails, held it firm and steady, and her other hand, still soothing his buttock, stretched the curve of skin to improve her and my view of the penetration.
I stared at the scene. His head was still hanging down. I couldn’t make out his cock now but every muscle in his body appeared tense, his ribs expanding and deflating as he took short, sharp breaths.
Zara was fucking him with the toy, going so deep now it practically disappeared from view on each slide inwards. He was rocking forwards and backwards, his rhythm matching hers, clearly enjoying being touched deep inside.
I blinked, several times, my eyeballs dry. I’d been staring wide-eyed. What must be going through his mind, allowing a woman into his arse like that? He was obviously comfortable with it, though—more than comfortable, he was having a great time.
Shit, I was so hard. I needed to stroke my cock, yank out a quick climax so I’d feel calmer.
Fleetingly I considered masturbating but pushed that idea away and kept my hands firmly gripping the arms of the chair. I wouldn’t get off watching a bloke being so rudely handled by Zara—that was just too fucking weird.
Zara stood, leaving the plug in place. It was barely visible. Just a strip of black that prevented it from disappearing entirely into his body and sat against the groove of his arse cheeks.
She re-claimed the flogger, stooped then grabbed his hood in her fist, raising his still-covered face.
“You’re mine,” she said. Her voice was a little tinny through the slats above the window, but the force behind her statement hadn’t been weakened. She’d said it with absolute conviction, her tone harsh, possessive. “All mine.”
He didn’t move. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Kiss my fucking feet.” She released his head, and he dropped instantly to lavish the long, pointed toes of her boots with kisses and licks through the mouth slit of the hood.
“Jesus, he’s got it bad,” I muttered. “Prick.”
“Now get up.” Zara stepped back, leaving the man with his pink tongue peeking through the mouth hole.
Again he didn’t move.
She whacked the flogger against her leg in a menacing, impatient way. He remained on his hands and knees, as though stunned that she’d given him so little time to adore her feet.
She brought the flogger down, this time on his shoulder. Hard.
He scrabbled to his feet, his thick cock a deep mauve, the veins standing proud. The bead of pre-cum had transferred to his abdomen, sitting tackily in his dark belly hairs.
I squirmed, wishing my own erection wasn’t having to suffer the pain of being encased.
Zara turned him to face me, directly, and caught my gaze. Again I tilted my chin, wore my best passive, nonchalant expression. This wasn’t getting to me. She wasn’t teaching me anything new.
She copied me, her slender neck regal, her movements precise as she stepped behind her hooded slave. Reaching for his arms, she crossed them in front of his body, encasing him in her long-limbed embrace. She tucked in tight to his back and pressed her lips to his hood, right next to his ear, her heels making her tall enough to do this and certainly able to continue staring at me.
Not once did she break our eye contact; she barely blinked, neither did I.
It took a great deal of effort not to stare at the aroused man before me. I’d never actually seen a bloke so hard, or, if I was honest, with such a bloody big dick.
But I managed not to. I returned Zara’s gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice that damn muscle flickering in my cheek again.
She began to whisper. Soft words that didn’t make it through the window slats. Just a constant little drone of seduction straight into the ear of her captive.
Damn.
What was she saying?
When I looked at her again, she’d shut her eyes, blocked me out. It was just her and him now. I could almost see him folding into her arms, his thick, meaty shoulders resting against her, his body melting backwards.
I finally allowed my gaze to travel his body. His feet were hip width apart, his knees locked as if he needed that security to stay standing. His cock was twitching, the slit pointing directly at me. He was fully erect, almost bursting with blood. The sight was quite shocking.
Still she kept on whispering, her red lips grazing the black hood, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
I shoved at my groin, hoping a bit of manhandling would reduce my hard-on.
It didn’t.
He was trembling now, his skin shiny with sweat. He’d dug his fingers tight into his biceps. Zara kept her arms around him, holding him together in his acute state of arousal. On and on she spoke, the muffled, whispered words maddeningly indiscernible to me.
Suddenly he jerked forward—not out of her embrace, it was just his hips canting. A great arc of cum shot towards me, and his long, pleasure-soaked groan filtered through the slats.
I held my breath, desire whipping through my groin.
Another ribbon of cum followed the first, slapping wetly onto the floor.
Still Zara spoke, held him, squeezed him.
One of his knees gave way. He quickly righted himself as a final, shorter string of pearly fluid left his cock. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly against Zara’s arms, the muscles in his belly clearly defined.
Finally she stopped spilling her devilish words into his mind. She raised her head and stared straight at me, her eyes sharp, her mouth tipped in a cocky grin.
Fuck.
I’d come in my pants.


PHEW!!! Holy guacamole! What did I tell you? It is flaming hot in here! Gosh, even I'm blushing ;D