Holy Moly! And Kinkentine

Oh my gods! You have GOT to see the end-of-day position for Tied to the Beat! They are fantastic. I have never had a book do so well and I am quivering with excitement.

Check it out!

Look at that! The Highland Wolves books are on the charts but we’re talking in the thousands. Thanks to all the Canucks who are supporting us! Now we just need to get those international numbers up (it’s not even on the charts in the UK! Get buying, my friends!).

All you have to do is change the numbers in the links you’re going to click from .ca to .com or .co.uk or whatever your dot may be. I’ll give you the links again:

WORTH THE RISK by (Crystal St Clair writing as) Crystal Lynn & Iain Shaw, Author vol1

BOUND BY YOU by Claudia Stevens vol2

SECOND CHANCE PERSUASION by Simone Evans, Author vol3

KEEPING HIS KITTEN by Rexi Lake vol4

TIED TO THE BEAT by Catherine Bowman vol5

JOIN THE LP GROUP: Leather Persuasion Series – Erotic Readers Book Club

Trust me, they’re worth the read! We aim to try to portray what BDSM is really like and have fun doing it.

Now, for Kinkentine! Today’s prompt: Simultaneous Orgasms | Forced orgasm | Dubious/Non-Consent

I think I may have rolled them all into one. Let’s find out! 😉 (Remember! It’s all first draft.)

Simultaneous Orgasms | Forced orgasm | Dubious/Non-Consent

He struggled in his bonds, wondering just how he got there in the first place. Was it the drink she’d brought him at the bar?  He hardly knew the woman.  Met her online, talked to her for almost three months. Some serious hot and heavy conversations; his cock twitched at the memories and he scowled. He’d agreed to meet because she’d promised him an hourglass figure, large breasts and an eager lover.

That wasn’t what he’d gotten.

Exactly…

She was an hourglass.  It was just one that held half a ton of sand.

He had nothing against larger people, he just preferred women who worked out and looked like it.

His cock, which had been half hard at the thought of this woman, this Sasha, deflated immediately. She’d had lipstick on her front tooth, for God’s sake. He’d only stayed for a drink because it was polite.

Now… Now he was in a darkened room, on his back with his arms tied spread out and anchored to a headboard. His legs were spread-eagled, too, and there was a large pillow under his hips, thrusting them into the air.

She was kneeling three fingers into his ass, massaging his prostate and she’d already wrung one orgasm out of him. It was a cold, sticky mess on his belly. He had to admit: her mouth, long cleaned of lipstick, was pretty talented.

Was she?  Oh fuck.  He can’t do it again. He’s too sensitive.

He bucks his hips as her mouth heads for his cock and earns a hard slap on his right nipple when his pelvic bone connects with her chin.  In the next moment, he’s cursing himself for saying, “I am not a bastard, thank you very much; my parents were happily married when I was born.”

A handprint blooms on his thigh.

His cock deflates.

Her hand grabs it and starts vigorously stroking as her fingers…diddle…(it’s the only word he can think of) his prostate. Soon he’s hard again, despite the sandpaper of her palms. Doesn’t she moisturize? I thought all women did. The random thought pops in and out of his head like a bubble appearing out of the dish soap when you set it down.

Grunts escape him against his will. He can feel another orgasm building. The first one had almost hurt but he figured that was because he’d never had anyone poking around in his ass before. This one was hot and heavy and winding him up pretty tight.  He could feel it building in his balls and his lower back as well as right where her fingers were.

An area he refused to acknowledge at the moment.

Sounds of pleasure escaped him and he thrashed. He was actually starting to genuinely enjoy it. Maybe she wasn’t a half a ton.  Just not anorexically skeletal like the girls he thought he liked. He lifted his head and looked at her.

“Pleasingly plump,” he whispered. I can get behind that. His cock hardened further as his brain twisted that thought into a pretzel.  Oh, I wonder if she’ll let me.

She was nude. Her breasts hung below her as she bobbed up and down on his cock and the large, turgid nipples, dark pink and looking like they ached with need – they certainly did in his imagination – made his mouth water.

“Let me taste you,” he rasped just before the orgasm hit him. He yelled, body in a tight arc off the bed as he came in her mouth this time. He pumped into her mouth, filling her throat with as much of him as he had left.

There was more to produce?

She took her damn time drawing her mouth off him, licking him clean and making him gasp and twitch.  She pulled her fingers out of him, leaving him feeling oddly bereft, and ripped off the glove he’d had no idea she was wearing.

Then, oh bliss, she plopped one of those lovely nipples of his mouth.  He latched on, drawing it deep into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth and lashing it with his tongue as he sucked. She hung on to the headboard and stared down at him.

He stared into her eyes. Remarkable. Are they green?  It’s so hard to tell.  But look at those lashes. The shape of her eyes. The arc of her brows.  She’s really pretty. 

I’m an asshole.

He laved her nipple lovingly by way of apology and she pulled it out, replaced it with the other and allowed him to do the same to it. 

Then she pulled away all together.

He was shocked when she made him promise to lie still and said she trusted him to keep his word.

Shocked more when she undid his restraints then crawled back on the bed. She crawled up to his side, stared at him for a moment again and almost moved away.

“Wait, why are you hesitating?”

He listened then smiled. “You’re beautiful.  I was an asshole. Do it.”

Then he was being smothered by the best part of a woman.  He eagerly set to very enjoyable work. He was pleased to find that she was clean. She tasted like strawberries and honey.  Never understood the jokes about fish tacos. Good women are clean and sweet.

He had to put his arms around her thighs as he brought her to her first orgasm.  His face wet, he gently pushed her away a bit so he could catch a good breath and wipe his face a little on his arm.

“You taste good, Honey.”

He dove in again. And brought her to another. And another, until she was a quivering mess that couldn’t hold her up. 

He was surprised to find himself hard again. “Let me have you. Be inside you.”

She was off him in a flash. On her knees and elbows and looking at him over her shoulder.

He sat up. “Are you sure?” Her ass wiggle was all the invitation he needed.

“I…A condom?” He looked around as she spoke. “Yes, we have talked before… If you’re sure…”

At her word, he knelt behind her and grabbed his bare cock in his hand. He looked down at it.  It was no longer than seven inches, but it was almost as thick around as a coke can and it had always served him well.  Thick ridges and a well-cut head caressed and pulled at a woman’s inner muscles and he knew how to move to hit the g-spot with whichever stroke he chose.

He proved it to her.

She showed him how much she enjoyed it with almost a dozen orgasms.  It was the last one that got him.  He was so close, thrusting deep and hard, fast. Pelvis slapping ass, his balls hitting her labia with every slam into her.  Her fists were curled into the bedding, hair stuck to her back and a tangled mess around her face, as she thrust back to meet him.

Then her vaginal walls tightened around him, nearly crushing him, as things got hotter and wetter.

Her orgasm exploded all around him – around his cock, into the air as she screamed – and dragged him with her. His orgasm was wrenched from him and he growled as it started, ending with a shout, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her tight against him.

“Holy shit,” he said as he pulled himself from her then looked for a towel to clean her up with. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

It was a lot of run to write. Especially to write the guy in the position of submission; I don’t usually do that. The next couple of days are interesting, too:

  • Lingerie | Collaring | Mind Control
  • Hatefucking/Angry Sex | Orgasm denial or edging | Nonhuman

They should be fun.

Have a great night. Love you all!

Muah!

Kinkentine & LP!

PRE-ODER TODAY – LIMITED TIME! YOU HAVE FOUR DAYS LEFT! (Including Today)

This Valentine’s Day the Leather Persuasion Resort, on a secluded island of Trunk Bay, is the exotic obsession among singles and couples of the BDSM lifestyle. Take the questionnaire and meet your guide, Lance Pierce, at the pier where you will experience the vacation of a lifetime. Meet your special someone or casual play partner!

At the Leather Persuasion Resort, anything is possible.

Collect all 5 erotic stories in this brand new kink series of varying degrees of erotic romantic heat. Dip your toes into the sand with the characters, experiencing the exclusive erotic adventures that will forever be memorable.

WORTH THE RISK by (Crystal St Clair writing as) Crystal Lynn & Iain Shaw, Author vol1

BOUND BY YOU by Claudia Stevens vol2

SECOND CHANCE PERSUASION by Simone Evans, Author vol3

KEEPING HIS KITTEN by Rexi Lake vol4

TIED TO THE BEAT by Catherine Bowman vol5

JOIN THE LP GROUP: Leather Persuasion Series – Erotic Readers Book Club

I am so excited! Valentine’s Day will bring so much good reading for me and for all of you! I have purchased all the books in the series and had the pleasure to edit Worth the Risk by Crystal and Iain. I quite enjoyed the book and I’m sure the others are just as much fun.

Don’t forget to pre-order Tied to the Beat! The paperback will be out on the 15th!

Kintober!

I haven’t quite been keeping up but I do have one more to share with you. Maybe two if my brain will spit out today’s prompt. Remember that they’re all first drafts! Raw and unedited.

First up is the prompt from the 4th: Shower/Bath.

Water, hot and pulsating, flows up from the showerhead.

It thump-thump-thumps against a tiny nub of gathered nerves.

A gasp echoes through the marbled chamber. Water is pushed away in protest.

It’s shoved back into place, held there.

The gasp turns into harsh breathing, constant sounds of pleasure.

There’s a growl of frustration as the water is moved and the peak is denied.

When breathing settles, water is moved back into place.

Water creates fire and lightning.

Muscles twitch. 

Gasping, panting, moaning.

A large hand covers the smaller one, holding the water in place.

A scream pierces the air.

Orgasm

It got called an “overly long orgasm haiku” on my writing group. laughs

Today’s writing prompt is Cunnilingus/Clothing (suits/costumes/etc)/Porn Stash. To do this one, I think I’m going to choose Clothing. It’ll be short and sweet.

Sarah stared at the big white box on the bed. It was intriguing. Wide, red satin ribbon held it shut and the store logo was covered by a large, blood red envelope.

Her name was written in calligraphy on the front in large letters. Below them, it said, “Open immediately.” It was a command she could not ignore. Trembling fingers reached for the ribbon and pulled the bow apart before they reached into the envelope and pulled out a note.

It said: Be ready at 8, my girl. Hair down, dark makeup.

Sarah shivered. They were going to the Club. She wondered why; it wasn’t their usual night. And this…this box. It wasn’t a day for gifts. She stared for another moment then grinned. “Oh, whatever,” she says with a dreamy little sigh. “This will be a good night.”

Finally, she opens the box. At first, all she sees is a confusing pile of red leather, the same red as the envelope on the front. Idly, for a brief second, she wondered which came first: the dress or the envelope. Was he inspired by the envelope to get a dress that colour?

“Whatever!” she says again as she gives her head a shake. “What’s with the tangents?” Carefully, oh, so carefully, she lifted the dress from the box.

As soon as she had it all unfolded and hanging from her hands, full length, she gasped in shock. “It’s a Northbound Leather dress! It’s THE Northbound Leather dress!” She let out a loud squee and ran for the full length mirror.

“OH MY GAWD!” She shouted. Immediately, she lowered her voice with reverance. “It’s stunning. I have to put it on. I have to wear it. I have to put it on.”

Sarah whirled around and ran to put it on the bed. “Clean. I need to be clean.”

She ran for the shower and cleaned herself thoroughly, shaving everything below the chin. She scrubbed and primped and washed and dried her hair, leaving it down as ordered.

“Okay, slut,” she said to herself, “now it’s time for the dress.”

It was ridiculous, but she had moisture on her inner thighs because the mere thought of wearing the dress excited her almost to the point of orgasm. She was hot, swollen and wet between her thighs. Her nipples her tight and her breasts heavy. She was panting and quivering as she slowly slid the zipper down on the back of the dress and unsnapping the collar of the halter.

She sat down in her Master’s armchair, the one in the corner of the room, placed where he could best watch her masturbate, so that she could pick up both feet, already clad in black stilettos with ankle straps and closed toes, and slide them into the dress and through the skirt at the same time. The smell and feel of the leather was almost too much to bear already.

Sarah shuddered with pleasure and more moisture pooled in her core.

“Oh shit!” She jumped up, hopping in a circle as she held onto the dress. “Please tell me I didn’t get his chair dirty!” She leaned over and examined it carefully. Finding nothing, she sagged in relief. “Thank God. He’d have locked me in the cage.”

Straightening up, she resumed tugging the dress up over her hips. Little sounds of pleasure were escaping her as the dress slid over the curve of her ass then wrapped around her ribs. She tugged the halter up and tucked her D-cups into place. She was lucky that gravity hadn’t started to get a good grip on them yet so she could stuff the perky-ish, pink tipped, pleasure globes into place.

Then she wrapped the halter collar around her neck with a moan. It was tight enough she could feel herself swallow, with just enough give that she could breathe easily.

Lastly, she pulled up the zipper. It came up to mid-back but once it was done up, the dress was tight. It wrapped around her like a coccoon and the boning hidden in the seams forced her into an upright, proper posture. The skirt stopped at mid-calf and kept her from taking a full and proper step.

“Oh, oh,” she rubbed her hands all over herself as she moaned. “Oh my yes. Yes!” She took a few small steps to the mirror and looked at herself. “Oh god. Look at me. I’m in bondage and I’m going out in public.” She panted more, head thrown back, hands on her breasts as she slid them over the leather, her orgasm about to crash over the peak.

Suddenly a deep voice breaks into her self-admiration. “Don’t you dare cum, slut. Not until I have allowed it.”

Sarah’s moan catches in her throat and she slowly comes back to herself. She turns and looks at him, eyes heavy and dark. “As you wish, Master.”

“Good girl. Let’s go.” He heads out the door and he’s halfway down the stairs before she realizes he’s in a tux.

“Not the club?” she asks herself. “Who cares! Public bondage! Yay!” She runs after him with tiny mincing steps, a grin on her face.

Well, time for me to go! I want to talk briefly about my goals for the next six months. I have a few, some personal, some writing.

  • applying myself to re-learning the flute. I have it. Use it.
  • I have two languages I’m learning on Duolingo: Scots Gaelic and german.
  • I’d like to write HW4. The series deserves to be completed.
  • I need to start Whisky Cats.
  • There’s a writing competition I just got introduced to that I am considering. It’s deadline is …well, shit, it’s the end of the month. Better consider it fast, eh?
  • We are doing the MS Ride again. You can donate to me here http://mssoc.convio.net/goto/LongshotRiderJ
  • I want to lose 30 pounds. Training for the ride will certainly help that.

I think that’s good for six months. We’ll see where I am then.

For now, it’s way past dinner time, I need pain meds, and the dog is getting impatient, too. Don’t forget to pre-order Tied to the Beat!

Muah!

Kinktober in February!

Does that make it KinkinValentine? (Edit: After publishing the blog, I went back to share the link and guess what? It’s called Kinkentine! I’m oblivious, don’t mind me.)

Oh, hell no. That’s way too awkward. laughs

Hi! How are you?

I am just finishing up Tied to the Beat. It is almost ready for publishing – which is good, given that the deadline is the tenth.  😬 While I am doing that, I also signed up with my newest writing friends on Discord to participate in a writing prompt challenge and I decided to share them with you. (All. First. Drafts. Remember that, yeah? Be kind!)

This is yesterday’s prompt: Naught Teacher/Professor. I put my own interpretation on that.

Obviously. 😀

I’d have published it yesterday but I had shots AND a migraine. Every intention I had of completing anything disappeared because I passed out when I got home yesterday afternoon.

I will write more on Leather Persuasion tomorrow. For now, enjoy!

Title-less

Rowena wakes up groggy and cold with the sound of weird music in her ears. She reaches for her blanket and rolls over whilst she shouts at her roommate to turn the damn music off.

Except…

“Wait…” she croaks to herself in the same hoarse voice the shout to her roommate came out in. She tries to lift her wrist again and finds it still beside her head. She slowly opens her eyes and frowns in confusion. She doesn’t see the pale lavender ceiling of her bedroom; nor does she see her nightlight shining stars on her ceiling by her bathroom door. She sees stalagmites…stalagtites? Pointy rock thingies. She’s too tired to remember.

They’re hanging from a huge vaulted stone ceiling that sparkles like Rowena’s inside a geode of ruby. For a moment, she lays there in awe. Then she remembers that her wrist is too heavy and it won’t move. She turns her head to look at the traitorous thing and finds it surrounded by an iron shackle. “Is it..?” She rolls her eyes. “Yup, it’s attached to a chain,” she mutters to herself.

Rowena’s peripheral vision shows her something else, too:

Her bed is suddenly the same glittery red as the ceiling.

“What the fucoxanthin?” She scowls as she notices that it’s kind of prickly and itchy against her back. “What the fuchsine is going on?” The whisper is hoarse still but now it’s wavery, too. She lifts her head to look down her body, squinting as her eyes strain to focus.

“I do not sleep nude!” She blushes from her toes to her nose.

The music around her gets louder and changes tone.  Some of the words seem to change, too. Vaguely alarmed by now – but more and more convinced she’s dreaming – Rowena expands her perspective and squints harder.

“They were rather cute pyjamas,” says a warm, friendly voice by her side. “I’m partial to kitty cats, though.”

Her head whips around and she looks up. “Professor Roger?” She peers up at her fashion design TA. “What are you doing in my dream?”

“Dream?” Roger offers a gawky, if sweet, smile. “This is no dream. Here, let me prove it.” He lifts a large and really alarmingly, she thought, sharp knife. He lowers it towards her and flicks it at her arm.

“I didn’t feel anything.’

“Just watch,” he says with a small gesture at her arm.

Rowena watches, wide-eyed, as the flesh on her arm parts and blood begins to bead, well up, then run around the curve of her arm to drip on the rock bed. When the third drop of blood hits the bed, the pain hits her brain. “Owww!” she screams.

“That hurt, didn’t it. I am sorry,” Roger says soothingly, as he pats her chest, making her right tit jiggle. “We had to be sure you understood it’s not a dream.”

“…We?”

“Yup. The other profs and I.” He gestures around him. “We’re all here. We need you to be the good little student you are.” He leans down and whispers, “You are a virgin, yes?”  At her shaky nod, he continues, “Good,” he says as he nods and gives someone a thumbs up.

Roger smiles brightly. “Let’s get on with things!” He idly slides the side of the knife up and down her body as he talks. “Look, I don’t want you to die, should you die, in ignorance and fear, so this is what’s going on. We are summoning a demon to do our bidding but he needs to be kept happy. That,” he taps her on the pussy with the flat of the blade, “my young friend, is your job. We need a little more blood to get his attention then you keep him happy with your tight, unused little cunt and we get what we want.”

Rowena is dumbfounded. Demons? Actual virgin sacrifice? “It must be a dream. Sure, Roger, whatever.”

Looking delighted, Roger gives her an approving pat on the breast. “Excellent. Now, like I said, we just need a little more blood. You know how sharp the knife is; you won’t feel a thing… at first.” He moves around what she realizes now is an altar and the knife flashes in the strange light. 

He was right, she muses, she didn’t feel anything. Not at first. Nothing but the warm flow of her blood. Then the burn of her blood.

“There we go!” Roger comes over and looks down at her. “He’ll be along any moment. He’s going to look a little terrifying but don’t let that be off-putting, I hear that he’s got a lovely cock. You’re going to enjoy it.”

“Sh-sh-sure…” Rowena stutters as blackness crowds around the edges of her vision.

Roger disappears.

Seconds later, there’s a loud clap of noise like the boom of thunder directly overhead. Several people scream, in spite of themselves.

There’s a lot of smoke that smells like brimstone and lavender.

“Lavender?” gets muttered a lot. In confusion, mostly. There are a couple of women who appreciate it, especially when they see what steps out of the smoke.

It’s Adonis, but eight feet tall. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. Biceps the size of watermelons. An ass you want to make a meal out of. Forget six-pack, this guy had a twelve-pack. He was enormous. And he was so handsome with his shoulder-length, layered, wavy chestnut hair, chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones and never-been-broken nose, that you didn’t really see the horns curving out of that hair. Nor did you happen to notice that his skin was red.

At least that part of Hellboy is right, Rowena thinks to herself with a giggle right before her eye (and the eyes of every woman and all the gay men) is drawn to the loincloth he wears.

The demon strides up to the altar, ignoring Roger, who is trying to talk to him, and looks down at Rowena. His eyes narrow and he shakes his head just before he puts his hands on the cuts on her ankles. The split flesh closes and knits back together.

Not a pleasant experience for Rowena and she lets him know it but cussing at him in at least 2 of the languages she knows.

He just smiles and moves to the head of the altar to lay hands on the wounds on her wrists. She curses again, he smiles again.

“Come now, Rowena, you’ve never complained so loudly before.” He undoes her shackles.

The professors get quiet.

“It’s never been quite so deep before. That bloody knife (see what I did there? Huh?),” she grins in the middle of her complaint as she points out the wordplay, “is damn sharp and he’s a moron.”

Roger immediately drops the knife.

“Anyway,” Rowena says as she looks up at the demon. “It’s lovely to see you, Jerry, love.”

“A pleasure to see you, baby. It’s been too long.” Jerry the Demon scoops up Rowena and kisses her stupid.

Several professors, having caught on that this is not going their way, try running for the door. 

Rowena flings out a hand and lightning crackles from the ceiling. It zaps not only the fleeing profs but the door, melting it into an amorphous, immovable blob that seals them into the chamber.

She breaks the kiss and looks at Jerry.  “They thought I was a virgin.”

He chuckles. “Well, you kind of are. This form you’ve taken on hasn’t had sex.”

Giggling, Rowena indicates  that she wants down. Once she’s on the ground she rolls her shoulders and cracks her knuckles. “What should we do with them?”

“What did they want?”

Rowena looks at Roger. “What did you want from Jerry?”

“M-m-money. S-s-some w-w-want fame thr-through p-p-publishing.”

“Greed.” Rowena states.

Jerry nods. “Into the pit with them.”

“Let’s have a little fun first,” Rowena pleads.  “They left me for you to rape.” She starts removing her hair like it’s a wig, then peels her face off. As she does, the rest of her skin follows and she  grows until she’s a few inches shorter than Jerry, stacked like the most typical male wet dream, with pale blonde hair. “Shall we start with Roger?”

Jerry grins. “Let’s roger Roger!” He points at the others, now huddled by the ruined door. “Let’s put them in some semblance of order though, shall we?  Make this a spectator sport.”

Rowena claps with glee and then zaps orders all the other professors into a row sitting on the edge of the open pit. She turns to Roger. “Professor Wannabe, or is it Wannabe Professor? Either way, off with your clothes!”

“I..I.. uh..I..” Roger doesn’t know what to do. He is terrified and yet… she smells like sex and his cock is raging, desperate for contact.

Jerry rolls his eyes, walks over to Roger, grabs the front of his robe in one hand, the back in the other and simply tears it asunder.

Rowena and Jerry start laughing. “That is what you’ve been trying to stick into all us girls?” Rowena gasps out through the laughter.

Roger looks down. Seven inches but barely an inch across. At it’s hardest. He sighs, tears in his eyes.

“Oh well, I guess we’ll make do. It’ll be good for opening his ass up with.”

“I agree. You have a monster there; his will be a nice little start.”

Roger blinks as the exchange filters through his brain and he starts to figure out what they meant. He backed up, hands over his groin. “No! No no no!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Rowena says soothingly as she approaches him as you would a scared animal, “we won’t let you bleed to death.” She pumps out the pheromones until he’s swaying.

She reaches him and turns him around, locks him into place against her. “Go ahead, Jerry. Rip it off.”