Category Archives: guest blogger

Chatting With Birthday Girl Dr. J/ Donna Jennings on Her Book Release Day!!!

I have had a hot summer! I am in a new anthology and working on a novella for a new anthology series inspired by the Cards Of Passion. Cards of Passion is the brainchild of my friend Dr. J/ Donna Jennings, and I was thrilled to be asked to join her and the other authors for this series!

Today is her birthday and the first Cards of Passion book (hers), Shadows and Silhouettes is out today. Let’s wish Donna a happy birthday and chat with her!!!

I have known and loved you for years, but tell us about yourself!

The feeling is mutual, Leonora. I adore you and your work. Who am I? I’m a retired sex therapist and college human sexuality professor turned erotic romance writer.

My 48-year career in sexuality began with packing condoms for Adam and Eve. I got three degrees related to sexuality and opened a private practice for therapy, education, and consulting.

As I retired from my college teaching, my students said write, so I did. I started with erotica shorts and moved into novellas and novels. I’m the erotica editor for the sexual wellness platform Rosy. I live on the Atlantic coast and love to support the arts in my area. Most people don’t know I’m an avid sock knitter.

What inspired you to create the cards of Cards of Passion and series?

Great question with a long answer. I was in the process with a co-author of creating the Purple Sex & Love Journal for Women and because of a life change, my fellow author couldn’t continue. I needed to finish the journal and move it forward without them, but I didn’t know how. While in the North Carolina mountains, nature inspired me, and I created the cards and they helped me complete the journal.

The following spring, I hosted a writer’s retreat, and the cards were there. We were having a lively “what if” discussion, and the cards jumped in. We talked about what would happen if the cards showed up in different stories. And now they have.

I have nine authors who wanted to take part in this series, which I dubbed Cards of Passion. I sent each author a deck. They each write in different genres of romance, but saw a place in their writing where sex-positive affirmations could help. I think the cards are kind of like the pants in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

They selected one of nine topic sets: self-intimacy, sensuality, fantasy, sexual behaviors, gender, sexual orientation, pleasure, body image and desire as part of their story. It has been such a fun process and I’m looking forward to see how the authors used the idea. If the process of cover design is an indicator, they will be so interesting. And with a quirk of fate, I’ll be there for the Cards of Passion book launch.

You just wrote the Fiction Writers Sexuality Guide; how does that inspire the Cards of Passion or vice versa?

I love this question. I’ve told many folks that The Fiction Writer’s Sexuality Guide was my writing dissertation. It is my effort to highlight everything in the sexuality world to help authors with a sex-positive mindset and character development tools in their writing. This mindset provides a foundation and offers a new paradigm for embracing sexuality in writing.

The content of FWSG and the content of Cards of Passion is foundationally the same. They both highlight experiences through the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual aspects of sexuality on humans/characters and considers how the world around interacts with the individual/character. For FWSG, it’s about how to think about yourself and your characters in layersover a lifetime. With the cards, it encourages self-reflection on your sexual identity and if you have a desire for any modifications. Both make sexuality a balanced aspect of the person.

Tell us about your Cards of Passion installment!

This is exciting. I know how I created the actual cards in my world and it felt magical. But when we had the conversation about the cards in writing stories, I wanted it to tap into my imagination and create a story of the cards wrapped around two people who fall in love.

Nature continued to stay a central theme, as did the aspect of my life in sexuality as an educator. Liv the FMC is a sexuality educator who battles a sexual medical issue. The MMC also deals with a sexuality issue. The card’s creation element weaves between them as Liv’s creates the card project. This all occurs as they meet at a creativity summit to heal themselves. They both get some surprises.

What is up next for you or anything you want to share in closing?

It’s been a busy year. Three books came out and I’ve done a lot of speaking engagements, and I’m laying out next year’s books. My themes will continue to focus on sexuality as a setting or central aspect of the characters. I’m also teaming up with USA Today Best-selling Author Danika Bloom for a podcast/YouTube discussion on romance and sexuality for writers. Stay tuned.

Dr. J. is a retired sex therapist and college human sexuality professor. She is the editor for Rosy, a sexual wellness platform for women. Her passion is writing romantic and erotic stories that elevate sex-positive ideas. She hopes the readers perceive the characters as fully developed, with sexuality being an equal part of their makeup. She wrote The Fiction Writer’s Sexuality Guide: Sex—It’s More Than a Scene to share her process with writers.

Follow Dr. J here:

Website: https://drjauthor.com/

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Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/drjauthor_/

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Facebook (page): https://www.facebook.com/DrJAuthor/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/dr-j?list=author_books

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15860651.Dr_J_?ref=nav_profile_l

photos via Dr. J

Swap!!! A Sexy Excerpt from H. K. Carlton

One of the coolest things about writing is meeting other writers. H.K. Carlton is awesome, I love her writing, and knowing her in general. Her re-release Swap is SMOKING!!! You know when you have to have that book right now? Well Swap was that for me, and I am going to share with you!!!

Most of us have been there – the unrequited crush, the fantasy lover who still haunts our dreams. Usually that longing disappears from our lives, and the unbearable need fades to a bittersweet memory. But for Hailey Hollinger, things are not so simple. The object of her secret affection is her husband’s older brother.

Excerpt

We paid the bill, then headed for the truck.

In the parking lot, he handed over the keys.

In a moment of sheer insanity on my part, I threw my arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “I really am proud of you, you know.”

He placed his arm around my shoulder and he pulled me closer. I felt his chest rumble. “Thanks, Hails.”

We slowed our progress, as if neither one of us was in any hurry to get to the truck. I laid my head back against his shoulder. We walked to the passenger’s side of the truck and I hit the remote on his key fob, unlocking the doors. I opened it for him. He laughed. “I’m supposed to get the door for you.”

“Oh, I thought that was just a shotgun thing, not a chivalry thing. A woman can open the door for a dude, ya know,” I said with mock impatience. “Just get in.”

He turned to face me and, to my surprise, he reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. “You’re really lame, ya know?” He laughed at my expense.

“I think that’s an eighties catchphrase. And yeah, I know I’m lame, but you love me anyway.” I tossed his words from earlier back at him.

But his smile slipped. “Yeah. I do.”

Something in his voice made every body part I owned turn liquid. In my head, I rushed to tell myself that he meant like a brother and that he’d had a few beers, but his next words stopped my thought process cold.

“You might be the only thing I’ve ever envied about my little brother.”

He moved his hand to the side of my neck and grazed my cheek with his thumb. Then his lips were there, hovering just inches from mine, as if he were seeking permission. My senses swam with the possibilities.

I pounced, seizing what might be my only opportunity to kiss him. I didn’t hold back—he experienced the full-on, ravenous impact of years of worship and sexual fantasies that had run the gamut from sweet, innocent eighteen-year-old’s kisses to the tantalizing nocturnal fantasy that I’d created just the night before.

I flattened my chest against his, trying to get inside his coat. He spun me around, and nudged me onto the seat of the truck. I didn’t want to separate from his lips afraid that if we lost contact he would call a halt to this. So, I fisted my hands into his shirt and hauled him in after me. I opened my legs, encouraging him between them.

When he followed, I crabbed toward the driver’s side. My shoulder hit the steering wheel. I released his shirt long enough to grope for the tilt-steering lever. I pushed the wheel up to give us a little extra room. He was not a small man. The thought shot another little thrill through my already highly sensitized body.

He reached backward with one arm, trying to close the door, but I pulled him toward me with all my strength. I wanted to get as much as I could before he put a stop to this. I knew he would. He was too nice a guy to let this happen. What did that say about me?

“Let me get the door,” he said against my mouth. His breathing was choppy and heavy.

I released him long enough so that he could reach behind him. The door clicked and I didn’t even have to coax him back—he was there and kissing me. I strained to get closer to him. He settled his hips between my thighs. His thick erection prodded my entrance through my jeans. I rubbed my aching cunt shamelessly over his rock-hard cock. I was soaking wet.

Needy sounds erupted from the back of my throat. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything, and at that very moment I didn’t care about anything else. Not Brent. Not Cheryl. Not even the fact that I was probably making an absolute fool of myself. There was one thing on my mind, and that was getting him inside my body.

Impatiently, I yanked at the bottom of his shirt. As I dragged the flannel up his chest, he pushed at my t-shirt. His large, warm palm passed over my ribs. Skin met skin, but it wasn’t enough for me. I let him push my top all the way up, exposing my bra. He smoothed his hand over me, before cupping my breast. I pressed more fully into his hand. My nipple pearled against his palm.

“Mmm,” he hummed, a deep affecting sound. He gave my breast a firm squeeze as he hunted around back for the hooks, but the bra had a front clasp. I made a protest into his mouth as I directed his hand back around to the front. He undid my bra, setting my breasts free. He released my mouth, then kissed a slow scorching path down my neck and chest, finally fastening his hot lips around my nipple.

I moaned at the exquisite sensation, arching my back, giving him full access. He growled in return and I wanted to laugh out loud. This was incredible! He swirled his tongue—my nipple tightened into a hard knot, and my pussy contracted. He rocked his hips. I could almost imagine he was inside me. If not for the goddamn clothes between us, he would be. I wanted it. I wanted it now!

He fluttered his clever tongue, and thrust his hips faster. Christ! I was so beyond turned on, I was going to come, and I wanted him inside me when I did.

I reached between us and undid the snap of his jeans. I grazed my fingers over the tip of his smooth cock with one hand, while unzipping his pants with the other.

All of a sudden, he blocked my hands, and released my breast.

“Hails!” He gasped for breath.

And there it was. He was too good a guy to let this happen.

You feel just like me, right?! Go get your copy!!!

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Guest Blogger Nicci Haydon Takes Us Into The Queen’s Chambers!!!

As an author that I readily fangirl over, I am so thrilled to share from Nicci Haydon’s new book, The Queen’s Chambers, Egyptology Book 1. Nicci has a running series on her blog about erotica she has masturbated over…let us just say that Nicci writes some pretty provocative stuff, but it would be vain for her to include herself in her own series! I am pretty sure you will be reading this with one hand! And she is quite the connoisseur, so after you read this post, go visit her blog for more scintillating erotica of hers and her recommendations!

Blurb

Before I even met her, I was in love with Professor Roxhana Rayes. I was fascinated by her story and wanted to follow in her footsteps: a woman who defied all convention to become the university’s first female Egyptologist, who made discoveries that turned her male counterparts green with envy. I saw pictures of her and fantasized about the two of us. Together.

In every way.

But it wasn’t until a visit to Egypt’s Valley of the Kings, when I’d already been her student for years, that we finally turned the corner from friends to lovers. And God, it felt like the culmination of my life. If I thought her passion for old tombs burned bright, it was nothing compared to her passion for other women.

Then the strangest thing happened. In the burial chamber of Queen Ahset I must have touched something I shouldn’t. Because now I’m in ancient Egypt, a slave in the palace of Queen Ahset herself.

And while the pharaoh might look familiar, her sexual appetites are far more voracious than I’ve ever known…

The Queen’s Chambers is a time bending tale of lesbian desire, soft BDSM and sexual experimentation set in both the Victorian age and ancient Egypt. There are graphic descriptions of consensual sexual acts throughout the book.

Becoming Queen

By Nicci Haydon

The coronation had been embarrassing and far too lengthy. At twenty-one years old, all Ahset wanted was to dine on sweet fruits, enjoy music and dancing and perhaps travel the kingdom in comfort and safety. She certainly never wanted to be Pharaoh, and wouldn’t have needed to be if her brother had been more interested in sex and less interested in war. Produce an heir before dying of foolhardiness, that was all he had to do, and Ahset could have remained a forgotten sibling and doting aunt, comfortable but without duties of her own.

Of course, her chief guard, Mahu, had promised to take on most of the tasks associated with running the nation, and for that she was grateful, but she was under no illusions about his ambition. They had enjoyed each other more than once, but she had resisted the temptation to let his cock inside her. As a woman, there was a danger in producing an heir of her own, and she had no intention of doing so without careful consideration.

Turning the corner leading to her own chambers brought her out of the heat of the sun and to a cooler corridor, and the sight of her only friend in the world, waiting outside her door. Ahset felt herself relax at once. She had grown up with Maia. Their fathers and brothers had hunted and fought alongside each other. As girls they had hidden together in the palace kitchen, thinking the cook didn’t spot them stealing pastries. They had chased each other through corridors and received punishment together for misbehaving. And more recently, as young women, they had resisted attempts to tame them and prepare them for marriage and childbirth.

As usual, seeing Maia brought other feelings as well. As she turned from child to woman, and her own desires had started to take form, Ahset had found herself more and more drawn to the soft features of her best friend. Ebony skin, dark hair and darker eyes that seemed to reach inside Ahset’s body and open her up to possibilities almost too shocking to entertain. Often, when she was alone, she found herself fantasising about that slim waist, those large breasts, finding herself slick to the touch as she imagined tasting Maia’s flesh, taking a dark, hardened nipple between her lips, pressing her fingers into Maia’s sex.

She shivered at the thought, and forced a smile to her lips.

“Maia, thank the gods. I need to retreat from the world.”

To her surprise, instead of running forward and throwing her arms around her as she would usually, Maia took a step back, her eyes lowering in submission.

“Maia, what’s wro-”

“You sent for me, my queen.”

Maia dipped one knee, crouching low, then moved into a kneeling position, her palms flat on the stone floor. She leaned forward, bringing her chest to her knees with her arms outstretched, head bowed.

Confusion warred with arousal inside Ahset’s mind. In that moment, her desire for her friend multiplied a hundred fold as she became submissive, pliant, willing to serve. If anything, Maia had always been braver, more headstrong. When Ahset fantasised about being with her, it was always Maia who took the lead. It was always Maia that made demands and was obeyed. But now…

Maia looked willing. She looked pliant.

“I did,” Ahset heard herself saying. “Come inside my chamber with me.”

There was a moment when she thought Maia might refuse. Ahset wondered if her voice had betrayed her intentions; she felt her heart clutch at the thought of losing her best friend over desires she never would have acted upon under normal circumstances.

Then Maia’s head rose and there was a glint in her eyes, and Ahset felt her body shudder, liquid leaking between her thighs.

“Yes, my queen,” Maia whispered, and her tongue glanced over her lips.

Excerpt

“Have you had enough, I wonder? Should I show you mercy?” I felt a finger over the tender flesh of my ass, the nail lightly scoring the hot flesh where she’d whipped me. Her finger dipped into the crevice between my buttocks and I clenched my teeth, drawing sharp breaths as I fought to keep myself from making a sound. She trailed her fingertip down through the crack of my ass, swirling around my tightest hole and then continuing to my soaked cunt. “You seem to be enjoying your punishment, slave. Maybe I should devise something less pleasurable for our next encounter. What do you think?”

I didn’t move. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to be fooled, not again.

The third strike took me by surprise and I let out a low moan that shuddered my core. “Thank you, Roxhana.”

Closing my eyes, I expected more, but Queen Ahset laughed.

“Oh, you are enjoying yourself. Look at this river. Sebek-khu, have you seen more liquid outside the Nile? Could we not quench the thirst of a nation with the river flowing down this slave’s thighs?” She paused. “Well?”

My nipples drew tight at the thought of him being forced to look at me. Did he enjoy the sight? Would he think about it later and grow hard at the memory? My mind was so confused by the thoughts. I’d been obsessed with Roxhana for so long that the idea of a man masturbating over thoughts of me was outside anything I’d imagined. I knew I didn’t want to have sex with a man, but to tease?

“I …” Sebek-khu’s voice shook with embarrassment and awkwardness. He had no more idea what was going on than I did, and forgetting my own confusion I felt truly sorry for him.

“Stop toying with him,” I muttered, then added, “Professor.”

For a moment there was nothing, just the scent of flowers, the scent of my own arousal, the click and crackle of flames in the wall sconces.

Then Ahset tutted. “Very well. It looks like you’ve made a friend, Sebek-khu. I believe that’s a first for you.” She giggled and I let it go in the hope that she would grow weary of pursuing the guards and return her attention to me.

I was rewarded with what I hoped would be the final stroke of the whip. It landed lower than the others, cutting into the tops of my thighs and biting my exposed pussy. I whimpered, my clitoris ringing with sensation that lay somewhere between agonising pain and absolute pleasure. I felt a gush of liquid leak from my cunt and wanted desperately to stroke myself, to bring myself an orgasm, but knew that doing so would only result in more strikes with the whip. While I was able to hold out against four, the thought of five made my mind cower. If I thought there might be more, I might even use my safe word.

“Thank you, Roxhana,” I said, and took a deep, settling breath.

“Have you learnt your lesson?”

I waited, then heard her laugh.

“You may answer.”

“Yes, Roxhana, I’m very grateful that you’re my teacher.”

“Oh, how delightful.” She purred the words. “I think this is going to be the start of something very special, but I’m satisfied that you’ve taken your punishment for today. I imagine you’re bursting to masturbate, aren’t you, slave? Or perhaps you’d like me to lick your slit until you fill my mouth with your climax? You may speak, tell me your thoughts.”

Okay, you might need two hands to click on the link below to get the entire book for your very own. Or maybe you can still make the transaction with one hand!

Amazon

***99c/99p at launch, or free to read on Kindle Unlimited

Guest Blogger Asrai Devin’s More Than Friends Will Leave You Breathless!!!

Simply put, Asrai Devin takes my breath away! Her erotica is like “Velvet.” With her new book More Than Friends coming out, I asked her for a return guest appearance to leave you breathless as well!

I love her writing and her taste so much, that I have added her as one of the elite curators of SexySmut where you can now read erotica that she has selected. But first, please read the following by her and swoon with me!

Chloe looked in the mirror. Cam model, cam girl. She was selling her body and having tons of orgasms and making enough money to pay her increased rent and put some savings away. Sure she lost some free time, but the benefits were immense. Like her newest and most mysterious client, CallMeSir.

She had emailed him in between shows and doing her weekend chores. He didn’t have a show until Tuesday, that was his night, but she enjoyed connecting with him over email far too much.

Her notification pinged and she grabbed the phone, pressing the button. She read it twice while she leaned on the bathroom counter, first with curiosity, then with a smile and growing hum between her thighs. He preoccupied much of her thoughts. Probably too much for a guy who paid to see her strip from behind a computer screen.

She was surprised by how quickly she felt a strong connection to a man she had never seen, a man she only spoke with via a text medium. But he made her laugh and aroused her with just typed words on a screen.

Today’s email was a detailed description of what he’d like to do to her. It would take hours to do it all, and likely she’d pass out from sensory overload, but the fantasy of it roused her interest.

She glided to her bed, stretching out on the soft sheets, pulling her vibrator from under the pillows. She focused on his words, letting them run over her body, teasing her, coming to life inside of her until she reached the pinnacle of pleasure. WIth his name on her lips, the image she created of him in her mind, she let herself fall over the edge.

If you want the backstory for this couple, take a look at this post on Asrai’s blog! And if you want even more–click here for a preview of the first four chapters of More Than Friends!

Smut Marathon 2019—Don’t Forget to Enter!!!

This is the second time I am entering the Smut Marathon! I did not get as far as I would have liked the last time–but I am excited!!! My lovely friend Marie Rebelle runs it, and that is all I need to say–I will let Marie say the rest!

The Smut Marathon 2019

I am delighted that Leonora has invited me to tell you more about the Smut Marathon. I am sure the 2018 edition has not gone unnoticed, but I still want to tell you all about it.

What is the Smut Marathon?

The Smut Marathon is a writing competition that has the likes of a marathon. When you sign up for it, you have to be prepared to be writing for ten different assignments, starting at the end of January and only stopping at the end of November. But, don’t worry, you have more than enough time to write for each assignment, and they start out short and grow longer the further in the competition we are, and the less writers there is. You see, the Smut Marathon is a knock-out race. Only at the end of the first, third and fifth round no writers are knocked out, but in all the other rounds writers have to leave the marathon when they have the least votes from the public and jury combined. Those votes are cast by the public and jury, not knowing who the authors of the stories are.

What kind of assignments do you get?

Assignments are different every year. Some assignments might sound similar, like when I ask the writers to include a certain amount of dialog in their stories, or when I give the first sentence of a story and ask the writers to take it from there. Sometimes you might like an assignment, and sometimes not, but I encourage everyone to write for an assignment regardless. You might just surprise yourself and discover new things in your writing.

You might want to look through the different rounds of the Smut Marathon 2018 to see what kind of assignments you can expect.

What’s in it for you?

Fun!

To me that is the one thing I want you all to have, even though I do know that the competition element is there too. Approach the Smut Marathon as a positive, fun experience and I promise you, it will be just that! Furthermore, you will learn more about yourself and about your writing.

Other than this, I contact sponsors for prizes for the writers who reach the final and end in the first, second and third place. When a marathon starts, I have no idea who the sponsors will be, but try to have a couple of prizes for each. Last but not least, all writers have a chance of being published in the annual Smut Marathon anthology, which will be published by Sexy Little Pages. We are working hard on the first one!

So what do you have to do now?

Sign up for the Smut Marathon 2019 (http://smut.rebelsnotes.com/2018/12/sm-2019-entries/) of course. Come on, challenge yourself! Yes, there might be a chance you drop out at the end of the second round, but then at least you have tried. However, you might surprise yourself and make it to the final round, or even win the 2019 edition. How cool would that be!

I look forward to see your entries appear in my inbox! Be quick, before you know it’s the 20th of January 2019 and then the entries close. Enter today!

Much love to all.

Guest Blogger & Fellow Sister In Smut Sally Bend Talks Horror!!!

Sally Bend is my fellow Sister in Smut, and shares my love of horror! Obviously, Sally had to be a guest blogger around Halloween…so here is Sally!!! (think of The Shining, but much sexier as an intro!!!)

Although I usually write imaginative erotica, kinky tales of sin and submission, horror was my first literary love. I vividly remember the book that started it all, that copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, sitting atop the paperback rack at the corner store. The colors, the lettering, the misspelled title, that cat staring back at me – I was absolutely enthralled. It did not take long for me to read through the works of King, Koontz, Matheson, and Masterton, before moving on to Laymon, Lumley, Skipp and Slade . . . and then sneaking home copies of the Hot Blood anthologies and feeling my entire world shift.

I never got farther than writing it – I was far too self-conscious to let anybody read it – but the first ‘adult’ or ‘mature’ short story I ever wrote was for that series.

So, why horror? And why erotic horror, in particular? Well, the truth is that I spent much of my life in hiding, burying my identity. I was so afraid of exposure, I practiced holding my emotions inside, lest they betray me, and I’m sad to say I got rather good at it. Unlearning those habits has not been easy, but writing allows me the freedom to express myself, and nowhere are passions and emotions stronger than in erotic horror.

Gender Swapped by the Haunted Brothel was my first work of erotic horror, and Fear, Love and Broken Things is my latest, but I stopped by today to talk about my twin tales, Alpha Surrender & Alpha Transformation . . .

Alpha Transformation excerpt

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” He scrambled at the walls, but it was no use. He could feel cracks and seams sliding beneath his fingers, but the walls were so slimy, there was no way he could find purchase. Instead, he kept sliding down until suddenly there was nothing beneath him. His heart dropped into his stomach as he fell through the air, crashing down into a hidden reservoir of water several feet below.

Even as he scrambled upwards, his head breaking the surface with a desperate gasp, he recognized how clean the water was. It smelled and tasted of that same rich, loamy smell he had noted above. It was sheer madness to drink it, of course, but he’d already swallowed enough in his fall to kill him if it were poisoned, and all he felt was stronger, more alive than ever before.

Better yet, as bobbed there, slowly treading water, he found his eyes slowly adjusting to the green glow of the luminous moss that covered the ceiling. It was hardly a bright glow, but having grown up in the darkness of the Church slums, it was rather comforting. Almost like being back home with Brandi.

“What was that?” Something had brushed his leg from below. He stared into the water, twisting and turning about to see all around, but the ripples he generated made it impossible to see anything. Twice more he felt something brush his leg, and each time it seemed to rise higher than the last. That strange, alien touch terrified him, and yet it left behind a pleasurable tingle.

That’s when it pulled him under.

With his head beneath the water, he could see a pair of green tentacles wrapped around his legs. They were so startling, so unexpected, that he was momentarily distracted from his panic – until they coiled about him, slithering from ankle to thigh, until suddenly they were holding him under. He thrashed against them, desperate to escape, but they simply held him in place. They didn’t squeeze or pull any farther, they just held him there.

Just as he was about to black out, they seemed to thrust him upwards, allowing him a gasping breath of air, before pulling him back under. This time they pulled his legs apart, leaving him awkwardly splayed beneath the water. He reached down to grab one, to yank it off his leg, but his hands slid right off. Bent over as he was, though, he could see the new tentacle slowly rising up from below, coming up between the other two.

Another thrust, another breath, and he was back down below.

This time he found a fourth tentacle waiting, floating before him, the slender tip of its appendage bent in a come-hither kind of motion. He instinctively knew what it wanted, but there was no way he could do it.

He was an Alpha. He loved, he embraced, he penetrated.

It didn’t work the other way around.

That tentacle darted in faster than he could blink and expelled a bubble of fresh, earthy air against his lips. He reflexively sucked it in and found himself refreshed. When the tentacle below began gently stroking his balls, though, he just as quickly lost that breath in an exclamation of surprise.

Fortunately, the face tentacle, as he was coming to think of it, was there to feed him another bubble.

Stephen simply floated there, several feet below water, held in place by tentacles that wanted something of him he had never given another. He and Brandi had talked about surrendering to the Beast, but that was for a purpose. That was to obtain the cure. That was to save Brandi’s life.

Really, though, was this any different? If he didn’t surrender, he would die here, his body forever lost to befoul the wondrous waters. He was an Alpha, but that had to mean more than just being on top, being dominant, being in control. The desires of women like Brandi were as alien to him as these tentacles, but it occurred to him now that always being in charge was exhausting. It had been years since he’d last let down his guard, half a lifetime since he hadn’t felt the comforting burden of caring for another life.

This time, when the tentacle delivered its bubble of clean air, it remained there, pressed against his lips, waiting for an invitation. It meant surrender. It meant giving himself up to an intimacy he neither wanted nor needed, but one that would allow him to save the one he loved. The other tentacle was becoming more insistent as well, pressing its tip against his anus, not poking inside, just sitting there against the tightness of his entrance.

To surrender was to lose something of himself, but to resist was to doom two lives to a lonely, painful death.

Sally Bend is a genderfluid author and reviewer of erotica, romance, and genre fiction who loves dragons, unicorns, ancient treasures, dominant women, and pretty boys.

AND!!!

For Halloween, you can get Sally’s books…

FOR FREE!!!

Wading In With Guest Blogger and Fellow Sister In Smut Rachel Woe!!!

Rachel Woe is a fellow Sister In Smut, and a forbidden love junkie! She is ridiculously smart, sensitive and all of the things that I like in a writer and human. Her story “Wading In,” was recently featured on Bellesa.co (you can also find my story “Amaretto Sour” there) — stories of which are edited by our fellow Sister in Smut Jayne Renault. This story is amazing! I immediately wanted Rachel to guest blog, and share an excerpt with us. You are going to love it and her!!! She is a romantic after my own heart.

I’m the sort of person who needs to be dragged kicking and screaming into things. New things, scary things. Even enjoyable things, particularly when it comes to socialization. I’ve written about my experiences with social anxiety before, and although my new short story “Wading In” isn’t about anxiety, it does address emotional limitations. Specifically, the limitations we adopt when life finally seems to be going our way. Maybe the bulk of our needs are being met, but there are still certain luxuries we won’t permit, certain indulgences we convince ourselves we’re better off without.

Lorelai, the main character in this story, is a strong, smart, independent divorcee, happy with her job and with her home. It’s taken her a long time, but she’s finally over her ex and has forgiven herself for the mistakes she made in her marriage. She doesn’t need a partner, and she’s more than capable of satisfying herself in the bedroom.

But she can’t stop thinking about the handsome new neighbor two doors down, and although her head is convinced that the last thing she needs is a complicated tryst to upset her emotional equilibrium, her libido has other ideas.

When she runs into her hot neighbor during a midnight skinny dip, there’s no denying their attraction.

Maybe it’s time Lorelai let someone get close enough to touch her.

Excerpt from “Wading In”

No breeze rustled the curtains and the sheet felt damp beneath my back.

It was too hot to sleep.

Normally, when I felt restless, I’d rub one out and let the post-orgasmic haze lull me into unconsciousness. Sweat-soaked and overheated, I couldn’t imagine getting hotter and more bothered than I already was.

But that didn’t stop my mind from going there.

It’d been two years since I had sex, but I hadn’t forgotten what it was like to have a man’s lips on my neck, and his hard, pulsing cock in my fist. Of course, Will’s was the first face I imagined. Will’s mouth on me, his cock in my hand.

My pelvic muscles tightened at the thought. I considered raiding my bedside drawer for a toy, but the effort alone would’ve been too much. I scowled at the ceiling fan and thought about going to get a glass of water, till I remembered that after everything, I’d forgotten to buy ice.

The sheet stuck to my back as I tossed and turned, then rolled to face the window. No lights shone from inside Alma Crowley’s house. I pictured her sleeping soundly in her air-conditioned bedroom, her criticisms from that afternoon echoing in my mind: I was a shut-in who didn’t know how to have a good time.

It was an unfair assessment. Just because my idea of fun didn’t involve getting tipsy at potlucks didn’t mean I was miserable. Ever since the divorce, I had made a point to pamper myself with calorie-rich foods, and pedicures, to say nothing about my extensive sex toy collection. I was perfectly capable of indulging myself when I wanted to.

And tonight, I wanted to.

Tossing back the sheet, I rose from the bed and threw on a T-shirt and shorts. Pippa lifted her head from where she lay sprawled out on her dog bed. I told her to stay, then padded downstairs, out the back door and into the night.

The moon was bright enough to see by. I didn’t bother trying the gate in case I tripped the censor light on Alma Crowley’s garage. Instead, I opted for the stepladder I’d been using to paint my shutters.

Once I was over the fence, I moved silently across her yard, though I doubted she could hear me with all her windows closed. Moonlight glinted off the ripples on the built-in pool. Feeling giddy, I stripped out of my tank top and shorts, and made my way around to the shallow end of the pool.

A soft moan floated from my lips as I descended the four large steps. Even at lukewarm, the water felt delicious against my hot skin. Dunking under to wet my hair, I propelled myself toward the center of the pool, then resurfaced. I wiped the water from my eyes and breathed a contented sigh.

“Feels great, doesn’t it?”

“Jesus!” I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Will’s voice. I scanned the water until I spotted him, tucked around the bend in the kidney-shaped pool. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are,” he said. “Taking a midnight dip. Sorry if I scared you.”

He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded amused. I moved to cover myself, though I doubted he could see me in the dark. “Why didn’t you announce yourself?”

“Calling out wouldn’t have been very smart, since I’m not supposed to be here. And seeing as how you snuck in over the fence, I’m guessing neither are you.”

“Not exactly.”

Will swam away from the side, pushing himself toward the center, toward me. His teeth glinted. “Honestly? I was admiring the view.”

Read the whole story on Bellesa.co https://www.bellesa.co/story/363/wading-in

You can find Rachel Woe here:

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Guest Blogger and Fellow Sister In Smut Dr. J Takes Us to Destination Bordello!!!

I love having my Sisters In Smut come to visit on my blog, and in person (hint, hint Dr. J!). Dr. J is an AMAZING storyteller, she knows how to stimulate every sense that we have and make us connect with her words. There is nothing more for me to say–this is her post!

How do you find ideas to create sexy stories?

If you hang out with a group of lively, smutty writer friends, they can come from anywhere. Mischa Eliot and I were going back and forth on a Twitter DM discussing story ideas. I shared that living on an island rich with pirate history and wenches, of course, piqued my creative juices.

In the late 1800’s, at a time when the new world was growing, my island was a transportation hub. As such, businesses flourished including brothels and bordellos. I wanted to verify that information as a fact since one of the road names in the old section of town was called Ladies Street, touted for all the bordellos there. My efforts at the local museum to document this failed. But I expanded my search and dug a little further and found a surprising inspiration. And with that spark, I created Destination Bordello.

This story is located exclusively on Radish Fiction. Download their app from the Apple or Google Play Store to read. I serialize the story Destination Bordello there. Writing in this manner is different than writing a novel. I create a new episode each week. In the first episode, I share my inspirational insights. Let me introduce to the main characters Laney and Carlton and their unusual situation.

As Laney Baynes lost her massage therapy lease, she received news from attorney Carlton Jarvis of a property conveyance. With a family bordello legacy revealed, Carlton helps Laney concoct a plan to gather money to pay off the back taxes and get her new practice established. How do they do it? They pull a page from history and find themselves lost in a contemporary setting of lust and fantasy at Destination Bordello.

Excerpt from Destination Bordello.

“People like to visit places they’ve never been, have experiences that might be a once in a lifetime experience. We had a small family ranch, and after my Dad died, we needed help. I came up with a ranch-cation idea. People lived there and worked the ranch. It helped us, and they had an adventure.”

“That makes perfect sense for your situation, but we’re talking about a building that housed a bordello.”

“I’m not suggesting you open for prostitution. Our firm holds the paperwork. I need not tell them how we are using the building during the transition. Instead, it’s a space for people to act out fantasies ‘as if’ they were in the bordello. They pay to come to this destination.”

Laney cocked her head and scrunched her face. “Like a destination bordello?”

“Yes.” She sighed and shook her head.

“I’d come to one, Laney.”

My eagerness for fixing a problem took over.

“Come on, let me show you this.”

I grabbed Laney’s hand and pulled her up the stairs.

I located the room with the hidden space. Adam and Eli’s muffled voices were nearby. “I found the books here.” I pulled a panel down and showed Laney the hiding space in the wall.

“Wow. It is secretive.” She reached out to touch it but pressed a panel above it which dropped opening a peephole into the next room.

As she tiptoed to peer inside, Laney slapped her hand over her mouth. She turned and nodded her head toward the hole for me to look.

What the hell?

Laney cupped her hands around my ear. “I can only see the tops of their heads. Are they role-playing?”

Her warm breath tickled my ear, and I wished I was role playing with her.

“I’m too short, tell me.” I leaned forward to look through the hole.

Eli walked around a kneeling Adam, and she smacked his butt. She continued her circle and loosened the top of her dress and exposed her lace covered breasts. She jiggled them in his face. I nodded my head at Laney.

“I want to see,” she whispered. Her eyes pleaded with me. How could I say no?

I motioned for her to stand in front of me and I lifted her up. My fingers brushed her side breast, and animal lust took over. When she leaned forward to look, her ass cushioned itself below my waist. I was on fire. After peering in, she patted my arm signaling me to set her down.

Sliding her down my body was glorious torture. When her feet touched the ground, she turned in my arms.

What did I see? Desire, longing, questions. I pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she sighed. Because it felt natural, I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. She clutched me with a quiet moan. I rubbed her shoulders, and then my cock joined the show. She pulled back. With a crook of her finger, she motioned me to come forward. I bent, so we were nose to nose.

She whispered. “It makes me horny knowing what they are doing. I like to watch.”

Laney didn’t have to share that, but she had to know it affected me. Her words caused my desire to surge and reeved me up. I took her face in my hands and kissed her. Her lips and tongue took charge, and I met her stroke for stroke. She broke the kiss and moved her mouth by my ear. “Do you think this is what they used this space for, watching?”

I dropped my hands to her ass and squeezed while I shook my head yes.

“What they are doing now?” Without dropping my hold on her ass, I moved us closer to the wall, and I peeked inside.

“Tell me.”

“Adam is sucking Eli’s nipples, and her hand is between her legs.”

I ached to have my fingers inside Laney. As I had that thought, Laney reached behind me, grabbed my hand from her ass and placed my palm between us against the opening of her thighs. Her other massaged my cock. “I’m feeling naughty, Carl.” I wiggled my fingers against her, and she cooed.

Now you want to explore all of Dr. J’s work, right? You can find all of her links on her Sisters In Smut page!

Dr. J. From Sex Therapist to Erotica Writer. ~Writing to arouse the mind and other parts. ~

Like my guests, my stories and Friday Flash? Buy me a coffee, and I will write a personalized flash story just for you! And of course, make Friday Flash bigger and greater!

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Velvet by Decadent Guest Blogger, Asrai Devin

Asrai Devin is a brilliant writer, and one of the most generous souls on Twitter who loves to share her fellow writers’ work. But like I said, her own work is so decadent and compelling (I have included several pieces on SexySmut), that I asked her to please share a piece with me for my blog and am thrilled that she did! What she wrote was “Velvet”…

Velvet

by

Asrai Devin

Allie knelt on the bed. Her knees pressed into the white, velvet blanket.
“Look over your shoulder at me.”
She glanced back at Garrett, looking for his approval. The camera obscured his expression. The shutter clicked in time with his finger.
“Pull up your skirt so I can see your sexy panties.”
Allie flipped up the checked fabric to expose her ass. She looked back, biting her bottom lip.
“Spread your legs, a little. Let me see between.”
She heard the squish in the silent room as she parted her thighs. Showing herself was so hot. She’d come when he posted them online. He liked when she sat on his knee while they read the comments and he stroked her. Or sometimes she touched herself.
She pulled her panties tight to highlight the outline of her pussy.
“Nice,” Garrett murmured. Click, click, click. “A bit of a bad girl today. Your panties are all wet. Take them off.”
She rolled to her back and slid them off her legs.
“Blow everyone a kiss.”
She pressed her palm to her lips then blew the kiss to his camera. “That’s for you.”
“I love you baby girl. One more pose.”
“Just one?” she pouted.
“We had a request. I need you on your knees, legs spread.”
Allie got into position then arched her back. “Like this?”
“Really close, angel. Use your fingers to open yourself.”
“Is this why you shaved me today?”
“It is. Show yourself.”
Garrett pushed the camera lens between her legs while she peeled her velvet lips open. The soft click of the camera filled her. She felt the drips of arousal seep from her.
“All done, angel.”
She flipped to her back and searched his face for judgement. “Was I a good girl?” She put two fingers between her curved lips.
He set the camera aside. “Yes, angel. You are a very good girl.”
He settled over her to give her a reward.

For more of the decadent Asrai Devin, find her on her website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

Also, I cannot wait to get my hands on her story, It’s Complicated!!!

Like my guests, my stories and Friday Flash? Buy me a coffee, and I will write a personalized flash story just for you! And of course, make Friday Flash bigger and greater!

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Guest Blogger Kay Jaybee Makes Voyeurs of Us All!!!

Kay Jaybee is a friend, as well as one of the most amazing and inspiring people I know. The real deal through and through–as well as one of The Brit Babes! Her erotica makes my heart…and other parts throb! With the re-release of The Voyeur–if you have not already–let Kay captivate you!

Voyeuristic Fun!

Many thanks for letting me visit your wonderful blog today!

One of the biggest attractions in the world of erotica is voyeurism. That feeling of being on the edge of someone’s forbidden world and peeping in- often secretly- is a big turn on. It is also extremely exciting to write from a voyeuristic perspective. I’ve taken this literary route for many of my novels and stories over the years- most obviously for my erotic BDSM ménage thriller/ erotic romance, The Voyeur!

Blurb

Wealthy business man and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff. His Personal Assistant, Anya Grant, and his Housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy – Fantasy 13- can take place.

But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, Anya’s previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.

In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch…

Excerpt

… Mark took a step closer to his PA. “Tonight,” he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, “you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task off our list, girls?”

They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten their employer’s questions were rhetorical.

Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write ‘Fantasy 1’, ‘Fantasy 2’ and so on, all the way down–the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words ‘Fantasy 13’. The first eleven rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.

“Only two more tasks left to go.”

This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other; exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.

Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.

Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it.

They also longed for it.

Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs. Changing them so they slowly became closer and closer to his own. Making his girls as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied him on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.

A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. “You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.” Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.

As Anya considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, she privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 would not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than Mark had asked of them before. She could handle this. They both could–no problem.

Then Anya saw her outfit.

Her bed supported nothing but a leather dog collar.

Staring at the total lack of clothing, Anya almost conveyed her horror to Clara, but her lover stopped her with an urgent shake of the head. There was no privacy here, and they never knew if the webcams positioned in every room were switched on or not…

***

If you’d like to know what happened next, discover how Clara became Mark’s second slave, and see how the girls cope with Mark’s extreme list of fantasies, you can buy The Voyeur from all other good retailers, including…

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

GooglePlay

Many thanks for letting me visit you today. 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, A Kink a Day- Book One (KJBooks, 2018), The Voyeur (Sinful Press, 2018), Knowing Her Place-Book 3: The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (KJBooks, 2018), 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 –

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

Like my guests, my stories and Friday Flash? Buy me a coffee, and I will write a personalized flash story just for you! And of course, make Friday Flash bigger and greater!

Buy me a coffee

Become my patron on Patreon–I have exciting plans, including custom erotica in the vein of Anais Nin. Everyone loves a story!

Become a Patron!

Want to read more of the hottest erotica out there?! Click here!