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Wednesday, 26 September 2012

What you’re not supposed to see...Voyeuristic Thoughts with Kay Jaybee



The VoyeurWell, lookee here! - I'm delighted to have Kay Jaybee with me today talking about voyeurism - take it away Kay...

There is something about seeing what you’re not supposed to see. About the knowledge that you have peeped through a metaphorical keyhole and witnessed what would normally be the ultimate in private. It is no surprise that so many erotic stories begin with the premise that someone is secretly watching others have sex from the privacy of their own hide away. The idea of seeing what you shouldn’t is incredibly exciting.

Over the years I’ve penned a fair number of voyeuristically based tales, from the story of Sally in Through the Gap (Quick Kink One, Xcite), who hides in a cupboard in the Victorian house where she is working as an actor recreating life above and below stairs for tourists, and sees far more than she’d bargained for once her fellow members of staff have gone off duty, to The Circus, a full-on, no compromise BDSM novella (Immoral Views, Sweetmeats Press), about a girl who finds herself the focal point for a fee paying audience.

For some, the idea of observing others have sex is more arousing than the act itself. In my aptly named story, Watching (The Collector, Austin & Macauley), the protagonist (whose genre is not given away until the very last moment), can only become aroused by observing sex through the anonymous safety of their binoculars in an adults only club.

It was this premise, the idea of only being sexually excited via the independent arousal of others, that I began to consider when planning my latest novel, The Voyeur. Having written so much about voyeurs who gets their kicks from observing sex in secret, or in public, but with a certain level of detachment, I wondered about creating a character who gets their thrills, not from furtive watching, but from openly having the power to order others to perform sexual acts for them to view...

And so The Voyeur’s protagonist, Mark Parker, was born... What would that sort of person be like; what is Mark like? Arrogant? Oh yes. Difficult to like? Certainly. But is he actually as bad as he first appears to be? Does he perhaps have a motive for all he does, and the unpleasant edge that appears to surround him...? If he was as bad as he first appears, why would his two intelligent and loyal slave girls stay with him?

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

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy – Fantasy 13- can take place.  
But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does the Bridge's Gentleman's Club, Anya's previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.

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

The thirteen fantasies Mark desires his willing and intelligent employees, Anya and Clara, to bring to life are wide ranging, challenging, and extremely arousing, yet he rarely touches them, and doesn’t need to have sex with them to get his kicks.
As The Voyeur opens, we find Anya and Clara about to complete Fantasy 12. They are so close to the end of his list of thirteen tasks now- or so they believed...
...Mark sat upright, abruptly business-like. ‘Last night you successfully fulfilled the double-sided Fantasy 12. I was impressed, and have enjoyed observing both of you on the replays of the action. This means that one task on my list remains. Just one. Fantasy 13.’

Mark paced around his desk, his hands behind his back. ‘Everything you have experienced up until now has been leading to this event. An event I have spent many hours designing and planning, not to mention having to call in a few favours for its eventual fruition. It will require strength of mind, physical stamina, and bravery from each of you – although it will affect you both in different ways.’
The cold sweat moved from Anya’s forehead to her neck and beneath her chest. How on earth could anything require more stamina than what I experienced last night? And what precisely does he mean by saying he’ll “call in a few favours”? She had a horrible feeling that she now knew why she’d had to tell Clara about Bridge’s. Anya really hoped she was wrong.
Mark stopped moving, his inability to settle unnerving the girls further as they watched his uncharacteristic animation. Perching back on the edge of his desk, Mark exhaled slowly. ‘It may be of interest for you to know that, as well as ticking off each completed task against the lists upon your backs, I have also kept notes of your progress; including –’ he paused, making sure he had his employees’ full attention ‘ –points out of ten for your individual performances.’
Clara’s head snapped up, and for the first time in weeks she looked her boss straight in the eye. Anya stretched a hand out between the chairs and, without waiting for her employer’s permission, took hold of her partner’s hand, relieved that Clara didn’t shrug her off after learning about her brief period at Bridge’s.
Intrigued by, but choosing not to comment on, Anya’s move of reassurance toward Clara, Mark said, ‘I have decided that in order for you to complete Fantasy 13 to the best of your ability, you must redo those fantasies on the list where you scored less than nine out of ten.’
Talking across the girls’ combined sharp intake of breath, Mark went on, ‘I classed your first meeting at Clara’s interview as Fantasy 1. A simple pleasure, but the start of a very rewarding association between the three of us. I will never be able to get enough of you girls simply standing in front of each other, your breasts buffing up together. So that was a definite ten out of ten for each of you.’
Jumping up again, Mark moved with a care bordering on reverence to his desk. Taking a silver key from his pocket, he unlocked the drawer, and lifted out his battered A5 leather-bound book.
The girls knew all about the book in which Mark detailed his fantasies and recorded the scores he awarded them per task – scores he never shared with them – but until that moment, they had never actually seen its well-thumbed pages.
Mark caressed each page as he turned them, and it wasn’t lost on Anya that he’d probably spent more time over the last six months touching that book than her or Clara. Never before had Mark’s status as a voyeur been so transparent.
Trying her best not to panic, the fear of what Fantasy 13 held suddenly lessened by the prospect of having to relive some of the trials that Mark had subjected her to previously, Anya stole a glance at Clara’s face. The fact her lover was squeezing her hand tighter told Anya she was having similar disquieting thoughts of her own.
Having found the page he’d been searching for, Mark laid his notebook on the desk and, after a moment’s quiet study, looked up, his red pen to hand.
The girls flinched as Mark brandished the pen in front of them. ‘If you would be so kind as to take your tops off, I would like to study your backs.’
Standing, reluctantly releasing their clasping hands, the women pulled their shirts over their heads, and as they had done on 12 previous occasions, lined up next to each other, facing away from Mark and his felt tip pen. Clara jumped as he un-popped the lid from the pen, its small sound abnormally loud in the tense silence of the room.
Running a finger along the spine of each of his employees, Mark stroked the lettering rather than the women. The words “Fantasy 1” down to “Fantasy 12” were scribed in clear block capitals on the talented, supple, and always obedient servants before him.
‘Turn.’ Without hesitation, the girls faced each other, as they always did for Mark when he wanted to write against the lists they held, their tits just touching at the nipples as per the very first fantasy, causing them to stare into each other’s eyes, each willing the other not to move.
‘It only seems a moment since I wrote these lists upon your backs.’ Mark continued to caress his fingertips across each word, the light pressure from his rare contact with their flesh increasing the desire the women felt as their teats agitated together.
Anya recalled Clara’s first full day at work clearly. It had started with a tour around the kitchen, and ended with them positioned just as they were now, the red pen etching its way across their backs.
For two hours Mark made them wait, teat to teat, while he wanked himself off all over their thighs. Anya had marvelled at the time at his self-control, and his seeming preference to come all over them, rather than within them. She hadn’t understood Mark then. Now Anya thought she did; or she had done until this morning.
For six long months he’d been building them up to complete his final dream vision, but now both he and they was going to have to endure an enforced delay while they went through a host of action replays. It was as though Mark relished not only the voyeuristic element of his challenges, but the process of making himself wait as long as was humanly possible until he eventually saw them come to life.
The moist swipe of the marker met Anya’s back. Her body froze to a statute-like state, not daring to move and jog Mark’s writing.
‘I am putting a line under the tasks that you don’t have to do again.’ Mark said nothing more as he consulted his notebook.
Itching to know how many tasks that meant they were going to have to redo, Anya clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to distract herself from the rising warmth between her legs.
Moving from his PA to his housekeeper, Mark took his time, until with a final, flourishing full stop, he threw the pen to one side before replacing his notebook in its special drawer.
Only when it was safely locked away, and the key was deposited back in his pocket, did Mark’s attention swap back to the half-naked women in his office. ‘Right! There is a time limit. All the tasks to be repeated will be tackled over the next two weeks.’
Communicating their mutual confusion, the girls stared into each other’s eyes, neither sure just how much was going to happen to them in the following 14 days. They hoped that such a short time span meant they hadn’t failed too many tests; neither of them had felt as much contact with the felt tip as they had wanted to.
Sitting back on his office chair, his usual chilled self once more, Mark topped up his coffee cup, and took a prolonged sip. ‘I can see the questions building up on your lips.’ His gaze sauntered from one woman to the other. ‘And yet you haven’t asked me any of them.’ Mark turned his attention to Anya in particular. ‘It seems that Fantasy 12 did you good. I was obviously correct in using the penultimate test as a form of punishment.’
The PA could feel the throb of her bruises increase under his critical gaze, and increased her resolve not to say anything, even though she still privately thought his accusations of her questioning him were extremely unfair.
Putting down his cup, Mark got to his feet. ‘There being little time before the scheduled Fantasy 13, I think that we should begin your reassessment straight away.’
Picking up the girl’s bras and tops, he chucked them at his employees, and watched with a quiet satisfaction as they covered up the words and numbers he’d added to their silky flesh. ‘I will see you in bedroom four in exactly one hour.’
Automatically the girls checked their wristwatches, understanding the importance of punctuality where Mark was concerned, as he continued, ‘You had a late night, so I will let you forgo your usual afternoon duties, and allow you to rest prior to the task ahead. You may go...’


If you’d like to know what happened next, and discover how the girls cope with Mark’s extreme list of fantasies, you can buy The Voyeur from Amazon UK, Amazon.com in e-book or paperback.

It seems that the popularity of voyeuristic tales will go on and on. Literary history is full of murder mysteries whose victims are only murdered because of what they accidently saw. And who would have imagined that Joe Orton’s 1969 play, What the Butler Saw, would still be going strong today (http://mjeproductions.com/productions/what_the_butler_saw)
I for one am very grateful for this love of ‘what we shouldn’t see’, for writing such fiction is almost as much fun as peeping through the keyhole itself!!

Thanks for letting me guest on your site today. Xx

It's been fantastic having you, Kay - and now - if you've been reading this and just have to get your hands on some of Kay's very steamy work - here's those all important links!
 The Voyeur- Amazon UK
- The Voyeur- Amazon US
Bio- Kay Jaybee is the author of the BDSM erotic threesome novel The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), e-novel Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (OC Press, 2011) and the BDSM novel The Perfect Submissive (Xcite 2011), as well as the best selling novella, A Sticky Situation from The Secret Library anthology, Hungarian Rhapsody (Xcite 2012), plus the e-anthologies Yes Ma’am (Xcite, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). She also wrote the sexy anthology The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2008), which features the adventures of a writer, forever in the pursuit of tales of sexual adventure.
As well as being a regular contributor to www.OystersandChocolate.com , Kay has a number of stories published by Cleis Press (Best of the Best Women’s Erotica 2; Lips Like Sugar; Lust; Best Women’s Erotica 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2012; Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Best Lesbian Romance, 2009, Sweet Love, Smooth, Gotta Have It, Sweet Confessions), Black Lace (Sex and Music, Sexy Little Numbers), Xcite Books (Ultimate Sin, Seriously Sexy Stocking Filler, Boy Fun, Sex at Work, Threesomes. Best of Both, Power Play, Tricks For Kicks), Xcite e-books (Pleasure Me, Perks of the Job, Cocktales: All Night Long, Kingmaker, Three For All, Flogging the Scarlet), Mammoth Books (The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica), Penguin (Oysters and Chocolate; Erotic Stories of Every Flavor), Seal (Oysters and Chocolate; Nice Girls; Naughty Sex) Sweetmeats Press (Immoral Views) and Forum and Foreplay Magazines.
Kay is currently awaiting the publication of the novel Making Him Wait from Sweetmeats Press...
Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

Wednesday, 12 September 2012

Tanith's Seaside Memories...

Memories of the Sea

Doing Smut By The Sea was a great chance for me to hark back to my memories of the seaside. I grew up in Lancashire, so for me the nearest coastal resort was Blackpool. Many a school trip was made to Blackpool Zoo, with all the kids pressing against the coach windows wanting to be the first to point and scream “BLACKPOOL TOWER!” But my favourite trips were to the town itself.

Blackpool didn’t have the greatest reputation for its beach, I will admit. Nobody ever went paddling, although we did love the donkey rides. But there was always plenty to do. A day at Blackpool would start at the North Pier, continue down the seafront to Central Pier where you could buy fruit dipped in chocolate (mmm, chocolate-coated pineapple), queue for ages to take the lift up the Tower where you could (hopefully) see for miles and get a souvenir penny with the Tower etched onto it, then carry on to South Pier and the Pleasure Beach theme park, home of the Big One, the Grand National and the Avalanche.

Other times we would come up to visit the Sandcastle, an indoor water park, or towards the end of the year we would drive up at night to see the Illuminations. They started at the south end, but my dad would always drive up to the north end first to avoid the traffic queues. It made sense because, let’s face it, it made no difference to my enjoyment if the first thing we passed was a sign flashing “Have a safe journey, see you next year!”

As an adult, I would go with my in-laws and the local working men’s club to visit Blackpool for a weekend twice a year; they knew a couple who owned a guest house with its own pool. We would book up the place for the full weekend, drive down and spend three days being stuffed with good food and drinking the bar dry. At the top of the street was a tattoo parlour who were responsible for three of my tattoos. Usually at some point the ladies would visit Funny Girls, a drag queen stage show. It was great fun and I’m only sorry we don’t do it any more – the couple sold up and emigrated.

So you might well ask why my short story I Like It Wet is set in Scarborough? Well, much as I loved Blackpool, the stories about the state of the sea water are too deeply ingrained. I couldn’t face the idea of my heroine Talia being drenched in that stuff. Give me a Scarborough wave any day!


Connect with Tanith!



For all you lovelies that don't have your copy of Smut By The Sea - here are those all important links!

Wednesday, 5 September 2012

Why Hunstanton? Lucy Tell Us Why...

Another scoop! This time it's Lucy Felthouse - author and editor of Smut By The Sea - this week she's asking...
Why Hunstanton?

My story Dodging, in Smut by the Sea is set in Norfolk, England. More specifically, the seaside town of Hunstanton. Now you may ask why I've set it there, somewhere relatively unknown, when I could have chosen Bournemouth, Brighton, Blackpool, Scarborough or Weston-super-Mare.
The answer is simple – I've never been to Bournemouth, Brighton or Weston-super-Mare, and it's been a long time since I've been to Blackpool. Plus, I knew there was a good chance that Victoria Blisse would set her story in her favourite seaside town, Scarborough. I wanted to set my story in Britain, and so I chose the seaside town I know the best, which is Hunstanton. I used to go there lots as a child, with my parents in our caravan. It always had such happy memories that I have been back several times as an adult, too.
Now, when I go to Hunstanton, there are several things that must be done. First and most importantly, is play on 2p machines—I love them! I must also play crazy golf (I'm not very good, but it's great fun, especially if you like pirates and Aztecs), mooch around the funfair, eat candyfloss, dip my toes in the sea and walk down to the Old Town, if time permits.
All these fun things to do helped inspire my story, which is centred around the dodgems in the funfair. My main character takes a trip to Hunstanton with her friends, with the intention of ditching them for a couple of hours so she can try to seduce the sexy guy working on the dodgems. 


Here's a snippet from the beginning of the story:
The thrum of anticipation had been rushing through my body ever since we’d set off that morning. By the time we passed the sign welcoming us to Hunstanton and made our way into the long stay car park, I was almost delirious with excitement. The worst part was, I had to hide it from my friends. As far as Sophia and Chloe were concerned, we’d just come for a nice, fun, girly day out at the seaside. They had no idea about my ulterior motive. And I didn’t intend to tell them. Until afterwards, maybe. I didn’t want to risk them ruining my master plan, or trying to talk me out of it.
So far, it seemed like everything was on our side. The traffic had been light, we’d got a parking space with no trouble, and the sun was shining. It was a perfect day, and I had every intention of putting a cherry on top of all that perfection. A very sexy cherry.
Sophia parked the car, then hopped out to go and get a parking ticket. Chloe and I got out too, stretching our limbs after being cooped up in the car for a couple of hours.
“So,” I said, tilting my head back to catch the rays of the sun on my face, “what’s the plan then?”
“I dunno,” Chloe replied. “I’ve never been here before, you have. What do you suggest?”
“Well, there’s the beach, obviously. There are amusement arcades, mini-golf, the Sealife Centre, a few shops, the old village…”
I deliberately didn’t mention the funfair. That was my destination, and I wanted to go alone.
Sophia rejoined us and put the ticket in the windscreen of the car. “Got everything, girls?”
Chloe and I nodded, and she checked for valuables before locking the doors. “So, do we know what we’re doing yet? I guess we’ll be led by you, Abigail, since you’ve been here before. Did you say you’d visited with your parents, or something?”
I moved away from the car and started to walk down towards the seafront, though purposely leading the girls in the opposite direction to the funfair. They followed without question.
I nodded. “Yeah. We used to come here all the time for family holidays when I was younger, but now we mostly come on day trips. We last came a month or so ago. I was just telling Chloe what there is to do. There’s the beach, amusement arcades, mini-golf, the Sealife Centre, a few shops, the old village…”
“Ooh,” Sophia said, doing a little jump, “I love mini-golf! Do you fancy a game of that before it gets too hot, then we’ll go from there?”
Chloe nodded her agreement, and I said, “I’ll take you there, ladies, but I can’t play.”
“Why the hell not?” Sophia asked. “It doesn’t matter if you’re crap. I’m crap at it too, it’s just a laugh.”
“No, it’s got nothing to do with being crap, Soph. I have a bad back and swinging a club around and doing all that bending is just going to make it worse.”
It was a blatant lie of course. There wasn’t a thing wrong with my back, and I was actually a little gutted not to be having a go on the best mini-golf course I’d ever played on, but missing out was a necessary evil if I was to go through with my devious plan. If it came off, then the result would be a great deal more fun than a round of mini-golf, anyway.
If my post and excerpt have whetted your appetite for some saucy seaside smut, then find buy links here: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/smut-by-the-sea/
*****
Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story - so she did. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, Decadent Publishing, Ellora's Cave, Evernight Publishing, House of Erotica, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Sunday, 2 September 2012

Sunday Snogging!



For this week’s Sunday snog, I thought I’d give you one of my favourite kisses from A Clockwork Butterfly – this is the part where my heroes, Lena and Angelo, who only have limited time together, share a bond in more ways than one… remember to follow the links to the other snoggers!

Angelo knelt down beside her and carefully started to unwrap the velvet strapping.
Her flesh was streaked red and white where the fabric had sliced into her. He kneaded his thumbs into the ridges, smoothing them out and forcing feeling back into them. Lena breathed in hard as blood rushed in to the hollow welts. The last binding fell to the floor and Angelo massaged her ankles and calves, bringing on a strange pins-and-needles sensation that crept up her legs and washed over her. Lena sighed and lay back as he lifted her leg to his mouth, sucking and nibbling with his teeth and tongue. Lena thought she would melt through the carpet with the delight of it.
“I’m sorry I damaged you,” said Angelo between mouthfuls of her thigh. His eyes looked full of genuine regret.
Lena propped herself up on her elbows. “What do you mean?” She was hurt that he thought that. “You didn’t damage me! You make me whole. You give me what I ask for. If anything, I want more. I want to wear your love like scars of glory. I want you to brand my body so everyone knows I’m yours.” She stopped, suddenly feeling like she’d gone too far. Maybe he wasn’t really into dominating her.
The ridges had faded into smooth red slashes. They too would fade. Lena wished they wouldn’t.
“This is your one minute warning,” the intercom bleated.
Lena rolled her eyes, trying to lighten the tone. “Why does she have to be so severe?” she said, cocking her head and rubbing Angelo’s shoulder.
He crawled over her body, pushing her back on to the carpet. “I’ll do anything for you, anything.” He leaned in and gave her a heart-stopping kiss. The kind of kiss where souls intertwine.
When he withdrew, she felt changed. After all they’d done together, this had been the most intimate thing. He’d let something of himself into her and she to him. He stared into her eyes and let out a long sigh. As the breath ended, the butterflies on shelves around the room slowly opened their wings.
“Ten seconds…”
Lena jumped up, dragging her kimono around her and searching for her obi. As she ran to the door in a panic, he handed it to her and bowed.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered and slowly pushed the door closed. Lena’s fingers trailed down the cold steel.
“Tomorrow…” She mouthed silently as she was pulled away.

If you like what you're reading and want to go further with Lena and Angelo... here's the buy links
Thanks for reading the snog! And remember to check out all the others at Victoria Blisse's place x x