Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Just to say

Demon by Mihaly Von Zichy (1878)
... that I've handed the edited manuscript of The Prison of the Angels back to Sinful Press. Things are moving, behind the scenes!

Oh, and it's over 100,000 words.

And it's got way dirtier sex scenes than the previous two volumes in the trilogy.

And if it doesn't make you cry at the end, you are harder-hearted than my editor ;-)

Monday, 17 July 2017

Blue Monday: S Nano guests

Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is the notorious gentleman-adventurer, S. Nano, with an excerpt from his comedic steampunk novel, Mistress of the Air:


Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester owns a brass mine in Zanzibar, a Lapsang Souchong tea plantation in China, a rubber tree farm in Malaysia, trunk loads of corsetry, and the country’s largest collection of antique whips and floggers.

Larger than life, and itching to find new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen, the Edwardian dominatrix has a vision. Embracing the spirit of the new age of aviation, she embarks on a series of adventures on her own airship, The Corseted Domme, with her transvestite maid, Victoria, her airship pilot, Captain Wyndham, and her automaton sex toy, Borghild. 

A select group of submissive gentlemen, consisting of a duke, bishop, lawyer and banker, is invited to join Lady Sally so she can try out her new dastardly devices and sex toys on them. She whips, spanks and punishes her way across the Empires of Europe, dropping off to visit her aristocratic relatives and friends for afternoon tea. 

But Lady Sally’s journey is not uneventful. War is threatening to break out and the Ministry of Aviation want to commandeer her airship for the war effort. And when The Corseted Domme has a crash landing, Lady Sally realises there is a stowaway on board intent on sabotaging her airship.

There will be wild escapades, kinky BDSM, dastardly devices, explosions and nice cups of tea.

For the rest of the day Lady’s Sally’s playroom was a maelstrom of activity. The sounds of the different devices filled the room. The electro-vibrator purred with an electric hum, the steam-powered pumping phallus thumped and hissed, the electric masturbating machine buzzed, whilst the steam-powered spanking device pumped and slapped. All of this, along with the gasps, groans, squeals and screams of pain and pleasure created a cacophony of noise which ebbed and flowed during the morning as the activity reached a series of crescendos. At the centre was Lady Sally like the conductor of an orchestra.

Every so often each of the protagonists was untied and placed into a different predicament so that everybody experienced the full range of Lady Sally’s wicked devices.

Borghild’s glass eyes glinted with an expression which could only be described as satisfaction; now fully trained, she was an enthusiastic participant in the sadistic orgy her mistress orchestrated.

For Lady Sally, it was a most satisfying day, and the culmination of her travels as her dastardly toys were being put to full use. She was enjoying herself immensely. She climbed up on the rack and was crouching over the duke to penetrate him with her strap-on. Her arse, a magnificent mound of peachy flesh, thrust into the air as she probed the duke’s anal passage ready to penetrate him.

Lady Sally’s arse was a thing of wondrous beauty, an orb of deliciously soft voluptuousness, and a source of both admiration and arousal to her submissive gentlemen. Positioned as it was, it presented a marvellous target. It hovered in the air invitingly. Of course, however tempting, none of her guests dare touch it without permission. On a rare occasion she might invite a privileged slave to plant his lips on it as an act of submissive homage to his mistress.

Borghild’s eyes swivelled around. They alighted on Lady Sally’s posterior and lit up with a red glow. She had been trained to find arse… she had been trained to whip arse… and this was the most inviting arse she’d ever recorded in her photo-sensitive cells. It was there, suspended in the air in all its fleshy glory, just waiting to be beaten. What else could a well-trained automaton do?

Lady Sally’s eyes widened. It came as a shock, the slash of leather thongs against her backside… and with one of her own whips! She knew what it felt like to be whipped. Purely in the interests of research she was not averse to experiencing the treatments she meted out to her slaves. But this was a complete surprise. It was undoubtedly a hard stroke but its impact was not without pleasure as Lady Sally felt her flesh wobble with the impact, and the prickly pain fan out across her backside. She took a deep breath. She cocked her head to one side to see the culprit, Borghild, standing behind her, whip in hand, a look of what could only be described as pleasure in her glass eyes. A look that Lady Sally had seen many times reflected in the mirror whilst she punished her slaves. The look of a dominatrix enjoying herself.

She waited to see what the automaton would do next. She felt a cold, brass hand run its fingers across her bottom. Borghild had observed and learnt well. This was precisely Lady Sally’s art, alternating sensual play with severe hits. A second stroke came zipping onto her backside. The gentlemen, now aware of what was happening, gazed aghast upon their mistress receiving a whipping from her automaton.

A third stroke whipped with a loud smack. It was not unpleasant… quite the opposite, the glowing pain was rather nice. Lady Sally understood only too well the pleasure her slaves got from the administration of seductive pain inflicted by a skilful mistress. In different circumstances, she might have allowed Borghild to continue. Indeed, when she got home to Rudston Hall, she may well allow the automaton to play with her in such a way. But this was not the time. She could not allow an automaton to get the better of her, especially in front of the men. That would simply not do. Her automaton had to be brought under her control and disciplined like any other wilfully disobedient slave. She needed to be taught a lesson.

Furiously, Lady Sally swivelled around and jumped off the rack to confront Borghild. Could the automaton understand what she had done wrong? Seeing the fierce look and dominant posture her mistress assumed as she snatched the whip from her hands, the red glow in Borghild’s eyes dimmed.

“Your behaviour is completely unacceptable. You must be punished. Punished. Do you understand?”

Borghild hung her head in shame.

Luckily, the whipping bench was free. Lady Sally grabbed the automaton by her brass hand and dragged her over to it. She pushed her onto her knees on the bench and, in moments, had her wrists and ankles cuffed. She pulled her head back by the blonde wig, stuffed a ball-gag in her mouth and tightened the strap. Lady Sally realised it was entirely unnecessary, but it was, nonetheless, a means of enforcing upon the automaton who was in charge.

Lady Sally lifted up the red latex skirt. She couldn’t help but admire the shiny, golden curves of her backside. The artificers had done a wonderful job with the moulding, the shape of the mounds being remarkably lifelike even though they were fashioned from brass.

Lady Sally stood in front of the automaton, the leather tendrils of the whip dangling menacingly before her eyes. The men looked on in astonishment, none of them daring to comment on the bizarre spectacle of their mistress striding around the whipping bench to administer corporal punishment on a brass arse.

Lady Sally raised the whip high above her head and brought it slashing down on with a crack on the shiny metal. The automaton might not feel a thing but, nonetheless, she had acquired enough understanding from observing her mistress to know this was a punishment. Lady Sally felt it was imperative to establish her control to prevent any further disobedience from Borghild in the future. Lady Sally continued to thrash the automaton with her hardest strokes, beating her relentlessly with slash upon slash.

This was the scene the captain encountered when he entered the playroom to inform his mistress they were beginning their descent towards the airship station in Paris. He looked surprised, and not a little bemused, at the spectacle of Lady Sally delivering a vicious beating to a brass automaton.

“You many well wonder what has gone on, captain. All I will say is that it’s a poor do when one has to discipline one’s own automaton.”

 Buy Mistress of the Air at:
Amazon US
Amazon UK



S. Nano is an author of erotic stories with dark and exotic content in fantasy, paranormal or historical settings, often drawing on the themes of female supremacy, BDSM and fetish but with a seam of quirky humour running through them as well.

His first full-length erotic novel, ‘Adventures in Fetishland’, a BDSM/fetish re-invention of Alice in Wonderland, was published by Xcite Books. His short stories and novellas have been published by Xcite Books, House of Erotica, Forbidden Fiction, Coming Together and Greenwoman Publishing.

His second novel, ‘Mistress Of The Air’ was published by eXcessica on 21st April 2017.

Web site

Saturday, 15 July 2017

Quick - hide the porn

BEHOLD MY DESK! It has never before looked this tidy!

It took a week to clear down to visible desk-top, let me tell you

Because we're selling the house and the guy is turning up to take photos for Rightmove first thing on Monday morning (*muffled Ashbless sobs*) , I have been doing a WHOLE lot of tidying up. Mostly it has involved hiding shit in the loft, and throwing out computer games we have never played and can't even run on the PC now. In fact I was advised by a Facebook friend to hide "anything that might be off-putting - really stupid stuff like a candle with a pentacle on it, books with "offensive" covers (specifically erotica), even a scruffy dog bed".

Since 90% of our household goods consists of weird shit/books, erotica and dog-beds, this may not be possible...


 But we did chisel the Green Man off from next to the front door...



I just can't do anything about the 6ft god in the back garden!


And the Hammer Horror Library is a lost cause, dudes...


 I think our marketing strategy has to be "semi-detached house, would suit weirdos", lol

 

Thursday, 13 July 2017

"A relentless, orgiastic tour de force"


Woah - fabulous review of my dirtiest book ever!

TAS at Erotica for the Big Brain has been reading three examples of "archectypal erotica":

Death and Beauty by Samantha MacLeod
Viking Thunder by Emmanuelle de Maupassant
Named and Shamed by Janine Ashbless

Samantha and Emmanuelle are no strangers to this blog, of course! We have in common a love of mythology, folklore, history, dark fantasy and writing stories that more than merely titillate, but re-imagine ancient tropes and poke around in the murky depths of their meaning.

And TAS has some awesome thing to say about all three of our books! For Named and Shamed his verdict is:
 
Janine Ashbless’ Named and Shamed is a relentless, orgiastic tour de force, a groaning board of pansexual delight unencumbered by the sort of repetition or slacking off in intensity that dooms so many full-length erotic novels. Drawing broad inspiration from Gaelic folklore and pagan myth... Sex of practically every variety and permutation is described in exuberant detail, whether with a group of horny auto mechanics in a greasy garage, or with just about every mythical creature populating the dark corners of the human imagination—a scene with a randy troll under a bridge is particularly memorable.
 Illustrated with a series of captivating line drawings by John LaChatte, Named and Shamed is an essential addition to any library of classic modern erotica.

THANK YOU TAS!

You can read the whole review post HERE

And you can buy Named and Shamed at
Amazon US :: Amazon UK 
Google Play
iTunes
for a limited time



Monday, 10 July 2017

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

I rediscovered this story of mine this week, while trying to find a standalone excerpt for a website. Honey Trap appeared in the Seduction anthology from Black Lace many moons ago...



“I could give you a head-rub if you like,” he offered. “I learned Indian massage a while back.”

“In an ashram?”

He handed me my drink. “In Canberra. There wasn’t a lot else to do.”

He wasn’t to know it, but he’d hit on my weakness. I love having my head massaged; it’s the next best thing to sex. So at his suggestion I sat down on the couch and he knelt up behind me to take my newly-washed head in his hands and rub it. And he was very good indeed – patient, firm and skilled. He eased all the tightness from the back of my neck and pressed smooth my forehead and scalp. He tucked his arms under mine, ordered me to relax and shut my eyes, then scrunched my shoulders until they unknotted. I lost all sense of time or thought under his kneading hands, dissolving into pleasure, as if he’d opened my skull and taken my brains out. More and more of my weight relaxed against him. His hands broke little murmurs of pleasure from my lips, and when he stroked my throat softly I groaned. His arms were around me gently, his firm body supporting me.

“That dress you wore last night,” he murmured in my ear, tracing my cheekbones with his fingertips.

“Mm?”

“Did you know it went see-through against the floodlight? Did you know I could see all your body beneath it?”

I was almost too relaxed to speak. “That’s not true.”

“‘No?”

“I think Rhys would have noticed.” I was faintly aware that I was using my husband’s name as a talisman, to ward him off. It didn’t work.

“What makes you think he didn’t want to show off the beautiful body of his wife, for me to see?”

I smiled.

“You were wearing very sexy red lace lingerie last night. Right now though,” Marcus whispered, “you’re not wearing either a bra or panties. I can feel your skin through this dress.” He brushed his hand across my hip to make his point and I forced my heavy lids open, trying to focus. “No,” he breathed, his voice tender and heavy: “keep them shut.”

His fingers stroked my lids and my lips and I obeyed with a sigh. Cradling me in one arm, he kissed my lips softly, seducing them open with his gentleness. I tasted the smokiness of the whisky on his tongue. His free hand caressed the tips of my breasts and I realized that the air-con had brought them to obvious points under the cotton. I moaned into his mouth.

“Now I’m going to touch your pussy, Astrid,” he said. “And you’re going to let me.” He put his hand on me through my skirt and he was right; I not only let him, I parted my thighs a little. “That’s right,” he sighed, stroking me. “Now. You lifted our skirt for me at the restaurant, didn’t you? You’re going to do that again. Slowly.”

Mesmerized by sensation I drew my skirt up my thighs, finger by finger. Cool air lapped at my damp skin. When I got to the hem he laid his hand on my bare mound, parting the swollen lips with a couple of fingers, delving between to find the syrupy slickness of my juices. When he traced the contours of my clit I writhed against him.

“Oh, honey, you’re ready for this, aren’t you?” His touch was like fire to my tinder: I felt flames rushing through my body. “All day you’ve wanted me to do this, haven’t you? And you’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do it. Look how sweet and wet and open this is for me.” His lips brushed away any objections that might have risen to mine. “Now unbutton your dress. I want to see that beautiful body, Astrid.”

I fumbled with the little buttons, unable to look because he was kissing me, and bared my breasts. He sighed with satisfaction.

“Now play with them, Astrid. Play with your breasts while I make you come.”

I cupped them, squeezing them together, fingering my nipples, but I couldn’t do it for long. “Oh—I’m coming now!” I gasped.

Marcus plunged his fingers into my slippery entrance, using his thumb on my clit. “Yes. You are: right now.”

“Make her come,” moaned the echo.

I opened my eyes as orgasm flooded through me. I saw Rhys standing against the kitchen bench, but it was too late and I couldn’t stop; I just stared and moaned and spasmed in pleasure.

“‘Oh God,” whispered Rhys, wide-eyed.

“Rhys?” I whimpered, when I could speak again. For a brief moment I tried to sit up straight but Marcus’ arms tightened around me in a hug.

“It’s all right, honey.” His voice was warm and sure.

“Rhys? What’re you doing here?” My voice came out husky.

“Oh God, you’re beautiful,” said Rhys. “So fucking hot and beautiful.”

“He’s not angry,” Marcus said.

I gaped. This felt wildly unreal. “What’s going on?”

“Astrid, I…”’ My husband looked shifty.

I jumped to the worst possible conclusion. “Did he pay you for this?”

“Far from it,” said Marcus smoothly. “Astrid, there is something you don’t know. Rhys and I met on the Net about six months back. On a cuckolding site.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that we both have certain specialist interests. My thing is married women—“

“Your thing?”

“‘My passion. My obsession: women who are faithfully, happily married, and just longing to be seduced all over again. And Rhys’ single greatest turn-on,” he added, his voice hardening; “the thing he fantasizes about constantly, is the thought of his beautiful wife being fucked by another man. Of her being so aroused by this stranger that she’ll do anything for his cock. Of him watching helplessly while she gets the shafting of her life, better than any he could ever give her, and she screams that other man’s name and begs like a slut for him to fuck her more.”

I was stunned. It all made sense now: the way Marcus knew exactly the right things to say, the way he knew what I liked and what I wanted. He’d certainly done his homework: he’d been perfect for me. I’d been played by both men, but it was impossible to take the high ground when I’d just been discovered by my husband with someone else’s fingers up my pussy. I couldn’t even feel indignant. I cleared my throat to ask, “Rhys told you everything, didn’t he?”

“Everything. He gave me copious notes … and photos. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.” Marcus stroked my damp hair from my face and kissed my cheek. “Now I’m going to fuck you, Astrid, in front of him. Just like he wants me to. Just like you want.”



Buy Seduction at
Amazon US :: Amazon UK

Friday, 7 July 2017

To Do

I write lists. It is how I stave off panic about ALL THE THINGS TO DO. And also my memory's not that great, let's face it 😉

This is my list this week:


Wednesday, 5 July 2017

Looking for a forever home


I am, in fact. We started the house-hunting process a couple weeks back...

BUT what really amused me was this article in the New Yorker, which is both extremely funny and horribly close to the bone.

So I wrote an adoption advert for myself:

Meet Janine. This sprightly old lady still has a lot of life left in her, and a lot of love to give to the right person, though she can also be happily left alone for up to twelve hours a day. Her breed is basically nocturnal, so don't expect any early morning walkies! In fact she will not demand much exercise at all, though she has learned a few basic tricks such as eventually getting dressed and answering emails. Janine loves cuddles and food; her new best friend will have to keep a careful eye on her diet and not let her have too many treats. Janine does not socialise well with packs or new people and will do best where she is the only writer in the home. Would suit someone with strong PC helpdesk skills. She should be kept away from children of all ages.

Monday, 3 July 2017

Blue Monday: Jennifer Denys guests

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is Jennifer Denys, with a M/m piece from her story To Claim a Mate, which is the first in the Balls and Chains shared-world BDSM shifter series she's curating:


Cole Linley is a gay wolf-shifter. In order to appease the Alpha within, he has taken up the BDSM lifestyle and become very experienced. This placates his wolf to a certain extent, but his dearest wish is to find a mate—male, of course. Except, the question is, how to find one in a city surrounded by humans where other wolf-shifters are rare.

Then, one night, he enters Balls & Chains, a BDSM club he frequents, and immediately senses another of his kind. And not only that, it is the scent of a potential mate, Jared Gray. There is only one problem—Jared is collared by another Master.

Jared’s relationship shows all the signs of an abusive relationship. Can Cole get him away from the other Dom and show Jared the delights of BDSM when done properly and what it means to be a beta wolf to Cole’s Alpha?


“Okay, my gorgeous sub, lie back on the bed holding on to the bars at the top.”

Jared glanced. The head of the bed had horizontal metal bars. Immediately he wondered how many other men had been tied there, and then felt Cole’s hand turning his chin to look up at him.

“I have had no other submissives here.”

“H—how did you know what I was thinking?”

Cole smiled. “For one thing, your face is very expressive. For another, after two wolf-shifters mate, there is a mental connection. It’s not that I can read your thoughts, more your emotions.” He laughed. “And they are now telling me to stop talking and make love to you.”

Jared’s heart leaped at the words. Surely if Cole didn’t care for him then he would’ve said, ‘have sex’?

As Jared scooted back and gripped the bars, his Master took hold of the sub’s legs pulling them apart before kneeling in between.

Cole ran his hands along Jared’s thighs and up his body as he moved to lie atop the younger man.

“Please stop waxing or shaving. It doesn’t feel right. It’s not the wolf way.”

Jared smiled. “Whatever you say, Sir.”

Peppering kisses over the sub’s chest, Cole then licked his neck, being gentle around the bite. Jared quite liked the mixture of human and wolf traits.

Making his way up to Jared’s face, Cole grinned as he made Jared reach out for a kiss, then pulled away. “Soon, my lover, soon. First, there’s something I must get.”

Jumping off the bed, Cole strode to a gym bag on a dresser. When he returned, Jared could see he carried some lube.

“It may not be necessary even though we are no longer in wolf form. However, you could be sore from earlier.”

Cole once more proved how caring he was. As Cole lathered the lube onto Jared’s backside, the sub groaned. Not because he was tender but because it felt delicious.

“Like that, do you?”

He nodded in response, suddenly unable to breathe as he panted in anticipation.

His Master threw aside the lube and pushed Jared’s legs up to his shoulders. Jared felt something press against his back sphincter. Since he was in this position, he was able to look down to see Cole’s massive cock push slowly into him. He was mesmerized by the fact that it appeared to be black. Although, his own penis and balls were darker than the rest of his body. Maybe it was a wolf thing.

Coherent thoughts then fled Jared’s brain as he experienced a sensation of all the space inside him being filled—pleasure bordered with not-uncomfortable pain.

Then, Cole was fully inside him. “God, you are so tight. I can feel you wrapping around me,” Cole finished his exclamation with a groan. With only a moment’s pause, the Dom started thrusting, retreating, then plunging once more hitting all the nerve endings Jared had inside him. It was bliss.

He tried lifting his butt up to meet Cole trying to urge him to go faster, but from this position, he had no leverage. His Master put his hands on either side of Jared and leaned in, using his weight to hold Jared’s legs in place. The rigid length of Jared’s erection prodded Cole’s stomach. “Just enjoy it. Let me do the work.”

Relaxing in to the fact that he couldn’t do anything else, Jared was conscious it was just like being restrained. It wasn’t necessary to be tied to have the sensation of someone else being in charge.

At that point, he gave in to the sensations—Cole heavy on top, pushing inside him, getting faster, nerve endings fizzing, breathing faster, grunting, sweating, balls getting heavier, seed rising and then Jared yelled as he spurted semen over their chests.

“Yes!” growled Cole as he gave a few final thrusts into Jared’s throbbing butt, releasing his own seed before pulling out with a shudder.



Buy To Claim a Mate at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Luminosity Publishing

Jennifer Denys is a bestselling author in various genre (BDSM, contemporary, sci-fi, paranormal, with historical and fantasy in her works in progress) with several different publishers.

An Englishwoman through and through, she lives in a beautiful historical city and is game to try most things once. She’s had a tattoo done on her calf, flew down zip wires 100 feet up in the trees, and was photographed nude by a professional photographer. All of which have taken place since she turned 50!

Many of her experiences end up in her books… but you will have to read them to find out what!

Do contact Jennifer – she loves to hear from her fans at jennifer.denys@yahoo.com She posts to her blog three times a week and is on Facebook daily.

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