Monday, 31 July 2017

Blue Monday: Malin James guests

Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is Malin James, who has out a new collection of erotic short stories: Roadhouse Blues. This excerpt is from Krystal's Revenge Fuck.


Welcome to Styx—a blue-collar, American town where people can do whatever they like, so long as they don’t advertise. From a 1950s diner to the back of a rocking Camaro, the stories in Roadhouse Blues reveal sex that is by turns romantic, raw, triumphant, and desperate. Meet two women grieving the same man, a bartender looking for anything but love, and a hot, brash newlywed who knows she married a cheat. The local garage is run by a kick-ass woman who gives as fierce as she gets, and the strip club is a place full of whiskey and smoke, where memories are exposed as easily as skin.

“In the end,” writes author Malin James, “sex is about people, and people have motivations, and sometimes those motivations surprise them.”

This is Roadhouse Blues. Surprise is just the beginning.


Barefoot, Krystal stood a couple inches taller than Jack, which meant that his mouth was conveniently close to her tits. Jack pulled her close and fondled them through her robe. She tried not to melt. She loved the way he touched her tits. Thank God, she hadn’t gotten that reduction.

“Man,” he said, kissing her neck. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, baby.”

The robe fell to the ground, revealing her Deluxe Pro tan and a pair of sheer, lace panties that showed off her Brazilian. She wiggled and bounced her tits. Jack caught one in his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re already wet,” he mumbled, rubbing her through the lace.

She was always wet for Jack. That fucker…. Her hips forgot the plan and shoved her cunt against his hand.

“Fucking day,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “Greyhound full of assholes sending food back. You’re the best thing a man could come home to.”

“Aw, baby…,” she purred. Goddamn, she had to focus. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Fuck him. FUCK HIM. But all she wanted to do was fuck him. She gave in and kissed him back, inhaling his scent—sweat, food, and sex…. Krystal frowned and inhaled again. Why would he smell like sex? They hadn’t fucked since that morning.

Jack pulled back. “Sorry, babe. I’m rank. Let me grab a shower.”

He wanted to wash the waitress off. No way was she gonna let him destroy the evidence. Krystal forced a smile. “It’s okay, baby. You know I love it when you smell all manly. Come on into the bedroom. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Jack yawned. “A surprise? Really? What for?”

Krystal ruffled his sandy hair. “Just for being you.”

“Aw, baby. You’re the sweetest. You’re the best. Just let me grab a shower—”

NO.

When they got to the bedroom, Krystal flicked on a light. Jack looked at the rope, suddenly interested. He grinned. “You gonna get all Fifty Shades for me?”

“No, baby. You’re gonna get all Fifty Shades for me. Strip and lie down.”

Jack’s eyes widened. Krystal grinned. He looked like Bambi’s mama right before she gets shot.

“Don’t worry, honey,” she said, letting her hand drift down to the bulge in his pants. “It’s gonna feel real good. I promise. But you have to trust me. You trust me, right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I trust you.”

“Good. Then trust me and strip.”

Slowly, Jack worked his way out of his sweat-stained T-shirt. Krystal’s mouth watered. He was still sexy as hell, even after three months of marriage. He looked just like the guy in that movie—the one where shit blew up. She loved it when shit blew up…. Jack paused at his belt.

“C’mon, cowboy,” she said. “Or you won’t get your surprise….” She gave him a fuzzy-kitten smile. Jack relaxed. He even did a little booty dance before taking off his pants.

“Good,” she said, sweet with a cherry on top. “Now, lie down.”

Jack laid down in the middle of the bed. He’d lost his hard-on somewhere between groping her and lying down, but Krystal wasn’t worried. She’d get it back.

“Arms up,” she crooned.

Jack stretched up his arms, fidgeting while Krystal worked through Sissy’s knot. It was trickier than she’d thought. “There,” she said, looping the rope over the headboard. “Almost done.” She yanked.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “You’re making me kind of nervous, looking at me like that. How ‘bout we put the blindfold on?”

Jack gulped. His Adam’s apple bobbed like a cartoon’s. “Wait….”

What?

“It’s just…are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Krystal breathed in, looking for her Zen, but the scent of sex came off him, strong as a slap.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Krystal slipped the mask over his head. Once he couldn’t watch her, she did the other wrist twice as fast as the first. Then she rummaged in a drawer.

“Hey, sexy man,” she called out. “How you doing over there?”

“Okay. I guess.”

“Good,” she sang. “Don’t move!”

“Didn’t give me much choice,” he said, sorta laughing, sorta not.

Krystal smirked. Then she knelt between his legs and did what she did best. He was soft when she took his dick in her mouth, but he was hard in seconds once she got going. “Oh fuck, babe….”

Krystal smiled around his cock. “Told you to trust me,” she said, tonguing his balls. His balls definitely smelled like sex. Krystal’s stomach turned. She’s always loved that smell, but she fucking hated it now. She gave his cock a last, brutal suck before letting it pop out of her mouth. Then she buckled up the strap-on.

Having a cock felt weird…and hot. Really fucking hot, she thought, as she looked past her massive tits, down the tight, little slope of her belly, to the hot pink dildo she’d fit into the harness. She took the dildo in her hand and thrust her hips, turned on in a way that surprised her. It was different than anything she’d ever felt. It felt…naughty. Goddamn. Now, that was a fucking novelty.

They’d never tried pegging, but they’d talked about it, so she figured it wouldn’t come totally out of the blue. Krystal coated the dildo with more lube that he deserved, and slipped the tip into his ass.

“Babe, what are you—ungh.”

“What, baby?” she asked, like he’d asked her to pass another Eggo.

“Never mind,” he murmured, holding very still.

“Just say stop if you want me to stop…blah, blah, blah,” she said, under her breath.

Jack bore down on the silicon cock. “Jesus Christ, don’t stop.”

She thrust a little more. That got a nice, whiny whimper out of him. Then she really started to work him.

Buy Roadhouse Blues at:
Go Deeper Press
Amazon US :: Amazon UK


Malin James is an essayist, blogger, and short story writer. Her work has appeared in Electric Literature, Bust, MUTHA, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Medium, as well as in podcasts and anthologies for Cleis Press, Sweetmeats Press and Stupid Fish Productions. Her first collection, Roadhouse Blues, is now available from Go Deeper Press.

Website
Facebook
Twitter
Tumblr

Friday, 28 July 2017

Cleverotic




If you are a reader or writer of smart, literate erotica or erotic romance (and if you aren't, what are you doing on this blog, HEY MUM?) ... you might like a look at a new site called Cleverotic / Cleverotica, which is trying to set up a readers' database of such books:

If you like a little protein with your escapist cotton candy; if you think smart is sexy and brawn needs a brain, sate your psyche and your senses by delving into the literary offerings showcased here. Cleverotic.com is for lovers of intelligent, steamy romance and scorching-hot, smart literature.
Owner Evelyn Bliss is asking for people to nominate books they've enjoyed reading, or have written, so do go contribute.

And of course if you are a fan of erotica that titillates the brain as well as the naughty bits - it's always a good idea to check out Erotica for the Big Brain's annual best-of lists.

Happy one-handed reading! 😁😈😍

Wednesday, 26 July 2017

"SO complex and absolutely amazing"


A lovely new 5 STAR review of In Bonds of the Earth has been posted by Punya Reviews:

I have no idea where to start, seriously! The Book of the Watchers series by Janine Ashbless is SO complex and absolutely amazing that I’m just....... speechless really. This series is rich in story telling with a great research and a marvelous writing style where the author blends many dimensions of facts and fictions together in such a way that the only thing I can say for this series is WOW!
Fortunately Punya recovers from speechlessness to give a long recount of both IBotE and its prequel, Cover Him With Darkness, with great enthusiasm 😊, concluding:

I seriously have no idea what’s going to happen in the next installment but I do plan to find out in The Prison of Angels. Eagerly waiting for its release now! 5 stars and color me impressed!! Highly recommended.
You can read the whole review HERE (but watch out for lots of plot spoilers).

THANK YOU PUNYA REVIEWS! πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–

Monday, 24 July 2017

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is from my short story The High Ground, which appeared in the Black Lace anthology The Affair.



Jill thinks her husband Dan is carrying on with her friend Fiona. So she goes and confides in Fiona's husband Miles, who is a cold 'n' scary lawyer and a fellow runner. The two hatch a plot to catch Dan and Fiona in flagrante. But things don't go quite as Jill expects...

‘I love Dan,’ I said. ‘He’s my husband. I want to keep it that way.’

‘And he loves you. I promise you that. I know him, Jill.’

‘Then how could he do this?’ I demanded, the confusion bubbling up in my breast. ‘How is it that I’m not enough – that everything we have isn’t good enough for him?’

Miles shifted in his seat to face me. ‘Well,’ he said, so softly that if you didn’t know him you might even mistake it for gentleness; ‘I can understand, I guess.’

‘That’s horrible!’

‘I mean, I love Fiona, but that doesn’t mean that when I’m with you, Jill, I don’t feel the need – the very strong need - to wrap you around my cock.’

A jolt went through me, like electricity. ‘This is so not a good time,’ I whispered.

‘No?’ He lifted his fingers to my face, stroking my temple and the line of my cheek, brushing my lips softly with a touch like the feather of a fallen angel. I trembled under his caress as his fingertips dipped to my throat. Oh, I could so easily see him as an angel of sin: he was all cold fire and magnetic superiority. His voice was low and hypnotic. ‘Then when would be a good time for me to do this?’ he asked, leaning from his seat to kiss me.

Our lips were warm together. It was the Christmas kiss all over again, though inside me now as then the effect was rather more like Bonfire Night. For a moment it was almost chaste – then his tongue was on mine and everything was all heat and melting and yielding; my mouth opening to his, my breast quivering under the sweep of his fingers as he sought beneath the claret coloured fabric of my blouse for my heartbeat. A little whimper escaped my lips as he released me to draw breath. It was a helpless animal noise, the sort that cannot help but provoke the predator. He smiled.

‘I love Dan,’ I breathed. It was my mantra.

‘I know.’ His fingers deftly slipped the top button of my fitted grey waistcoat, the main barrier between him and my nipple; I wasn’t wearing a bra beneath that red blouse. ‘You love him, and you want to fuck me.’

‘Oh God, Miles -’

‘It’s all right Jill: I understand. I know.’ He kissed me again as he captured the plump berry of my flesh through the silky fabric. I groaned as pleasure danced across my skin, shooting like fireworks through my pulse and my sex.

‘We can’t.’ My voice sounded faint.

‘Nevertheless,’ said he, licking my throat, biting my earlobe, ‘we’re going to.’ His hand fell from my breast to my inner knee. It was summer and I had no tights on, just smooth skin under his strong grasp. ‘Open your legs.’

‘Not here.’ I was grasping at excuses: the fact that we were out in public, in his car and only a few hundred yards from his house, was a hook to hang my terror on.

‘Yes. Here. Open your legs for me, Jill.’

I parted my thighs and he ran his hand up beneath my best work skirt, over my skin, to the tight silky fabric stretched over the hot mound of my pussy. I writhed in my seat, burning with arousal and shame. I put one hand on his arm as if I was going to fend him off, and felt the hard muscle work under my palm. In the secret place beneath my skirt he found lace; an edge; hair; folds.

Wet.

I saw his pupils dilate, his pale eyes darkening. I was slippery with juice already, wet from his kisses, his touch, his voice. Whatever I said, however I tried to prevaricate, my sex was in thrall to him. My body had already surrendered.

His fingers felt cool in my hot liquid slash. Delicately he took the wet to my clit and circled the sensitive nub. I spasmed, arching, biting back a cry as my arousal hit flashpoint, and that wave of heat and need was liberating. It was an immense relief not to have to think any more; I had been doing far too much thinking for the past fortnight. I let the tsunami wash over my guilt and my terror and my loss, and drown them. I sank one hand in Miles’ hair and pulled his face to mine, biting his lips. Suddenly we were kissing again - but fiercely this time, scrabbling at each other’s clothes, stealing the breath from each other as we gasped for air. He wrestled off my panties and threw them aside, and then he hauled me over into his lap.

It wasn’t exactly graceful. I had one leg either side of the gear-stick and it wasn’t really clear whether I was supposed to be sitting with my back to him or side-on, and we were cramped behind the steering wheel and the windows were steaming up. But he managed to lift me clear enough of his crotch to yank my skirt up to my hips and release his cock from the confines of his trousers before it burst his fly. I didn’t even get to see his cock – but I felt it go in. Fuck, did I ever feel it. Three strong thrusts sank him to the root in my wet pussy. My eyes watered. His arms encircled me. One hand burrowed inside my disordered blouse to knead my left breast and pinch my nipple. The other sought my sex, at the place we were joined. With it he could feel his shaft filling and stretching my hole. He rolled my clit between his fingertips.

‘You want me to fuck you, Jill?’ he whispered fiercely in my ear, thighs and pelvis heaving me up and down on his lap and his impaling length.

I grabbed his thigh and sank my nails into it through his expensive suit.

‘You want me to come inside you – deep, deep inside?’ His voice was hoarse and uneven. He had to take long pauses between phrases; spaces filled with the sound of my gasping and the creak of the car springs. ‘Want me to stick my big cock in your mouth and fuck your throat until you choke down my spunk?’

I started to groan breathily..

‘Want me to tie you down and spray my cream on your pretty little tits?’ He tugged cruelly on one of those pretty little tits and I squealed, lifting myself up and writhing down on his cock. ‘Want me to spank your bottom until it’s bright red and then ride your dirty ass and come inside it?’

I think I tried to say Yes but it just came out as an incoherent wail as I slammed through the barrier into orgasm. Miles, lifting me bodily and pumping me down on his cock, followed suit seconds later. He made no sound at all, but his grip was like iron and his whole frame shook.

I collapsed back against his chest, staring at the fogged windscreen. Outside it was growing dark. My heart was pounding harder than it ever did when I was running cross-country.

‘That was ... That was very good.’ Miles nuzzled at my neck, his tongue testing my pulse. He didn’t seem particularly inclined to let go of me.

But the confusion I thought I’d drowned was waiting for me as my pleasure ebbed, stronger than ever. When my pulse had stopped rocketing I slipped from him and back into the passenger seat, tugging awkwardly at my clothes, fumbling at buttons. I couldn’t find my knickers in the footwell; I wondered if they had gone under a seat. My faces was flushed and I tried not look at the man I’d just had sex with.

‘So, are you wildly in love with me then?’ he asked, with the special flippant smirk he reserves for really caustic jokes.

‘No!’

‘The Defence rests, m’lud.’



Buy The Affair at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK

Sunday, 23 July 2017

Shame!



There are several reasons you should watch this video RIGHT NOW:
  1. If you are a Game of Thrones fan, it is extremely funny. Yes, that is the same Septa.
  2. It's an advert for Sodastream, but the message is right on point.
  3. The Advertising Standards Authority/Facebook/Youtube banned it for use of the word "fuck," so it keeps being removed from t'Internet.
  4. The International Bottled Water Association is taking Sodastream to court to stop them saying that plastic bottle waste is bad for the environment. Fuck them.

Friday, 21 July 2017

I'm just trolling

See this?

Look at them, Mother Troll said. Look at my sons! You won't find more beautiful trolls on this side of the moon! (1915)
That could basically be *the* illustration for a story I just wrote: Yan, Tan, Tethera, Methera.

It's by John Bauer, a Swedish artist best known for his illustrations for an annual fairy-tale series called Among Gnomes and Trolls.



He was the absolute master of visualizing trolls, and he liked best to contrast their huge, lumpen, ugly forms with tiny delicate humans - often children or princesses - in a spectacular show of vulnerability and barely-concealed menace.


I like to think I just went that one step further. That one step too far, if you like πŸ˜‰


Because this is a story in which I don't hold back...


I'll let you know whether it meets editorial approval!



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 πŸ˜‰

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.

Blog/website
Facebook
Twitter 
Amazon Author Page