Sunday, February 25, 2018

Sizzling Sunday: Victorian excess from Miranda's Masks -- #SizzlingSunday #BDSM #erotica

Sizzling Sunday banner

This week’s Sizzling Sunday excerpt comes from my transgressive erotic romance Miranda’s Masks. This novel has two parallel plots. In contemporary times, literature graduate student Miranda Cahill conducts her dissertation research on Victorian erotica, while she struggles to understand her contradictory sexual desires. Meanwhile, the secret diary she has discovered relates the adventures of the mysterious Beatrice, a upper-class woman who had lived in the same Beacon Hill neighborhood as Miranda, more than a century before.

This bit is from one of the diary entries.

I stood in the middle of the stable, my boots buried to the ankles in the straw, at a complete loss. Montrose lit a kerosene lantern, adding to the pungent combination of smells. His master sauntered into the building and looked me over. My confusion must have been apparent, for he smiled, came over and cupped my chin in his hand.

Now, little angel, it is time for you to prove yourself. Do you want to please me?”

I nodded, spellbound by his dark gaze.

I can see your soul, little one. It is dark. You need discipline, punishment. You need a strong hand, like mine.”

I need a strong cock, my mind screamed, but outwardly I remained silent and demure.

Remove your clothing,” he said. I was about to resist, on principle, but his eyes cowed me. “Do it yourself, or if you prefer, I will have Montrose do it for you.”

My skin crawled at the thought of that degenerate touching me. As quickly and gracefully as I could, I shed my overskirt, bustle, underskirt, petticoats, and waist. Now I wore only my drawers, stockings, corset and chemise. I went to undo the corset, but no matter how I tried, I could not reach the lacings.

Please, Sir,” I said, turning my back to him, embarrassed and excited. “I cannot manage my stays by myself. Would you assist me?”

With pleasure,” he said. Finally, his hands were on me, surprisingly competent as they released the cords and loosened the confining garment. Please, I thought, let him touch my breasts, and he did, reaching around to cup them in his palms. Only for a moment, though, then he turned me around to face him.

You are very lovely, Madame. You would tempt the devil. Off with the chemise and the drawers. Montrose, bring the bonds.”

No, I thought, but my nipples ached, my sex throbbed from his brief touch. I would do anything he asked, I realized, and got a strange thrill from this thought. I removed the articles of clothing, as he ordered.

Bind her,” said my master briefly. Montrose knew exactly what he wanted.

They used leather, reins and other items of tack that I cannot accurately name. My wrists were roped together and the thong was laced through an iron hoop affixed to the ceiling. They hauled me up until I was on tiptoe. I could feel my juices trickling down my thighs.

They wrapped strips of leather around my waist, and affixed them to the stalls along either wall. I am not sure why they did this; perhaps simply to see the leather biting into my flesh. They ran a leather strap between my legs, so that it rubbed against my center, in the front, and chafed my rear opening. Finally, Montrose took a complicated harness and fitted it over my head. There was something like a bit, which he placed in my mouth, but surely, this was designed on a human, not an equine scale.

I could no longer speak. I could not move to any significant extent. I admit, though, I was more excited than frightened, bizarre as the scenario was.

Finally, I was done, trussed up like some odd piece of game. The dark man circled me, obviously pleased. “Sweet, very sweet. I knew when I saw you that you wanted what I had to offer, and this…” He wiggled a finger under the strap, dipped a finger into my sopping cunny then held it to his lips, “This tells me that I was not wrong.

Now, my filly, you must be brave. Montrose, bring me the crop.”

I panicked, twisted in my bonds, but to no avail. I was totally at the swarthy stranger’s mercy.

His first blows were directed to the fleshy parts of my bum. They burned like acid, and yet, every time I twisted, trying to evade his strokes, the leather between my legs inflamed me further. Soon he was whipping the backs of my thighs, my shoulders, even my breasts. But my senses were overwhelmed, the smell of my own excitement blending with the animal scents, the sharp pain merging with and transforming the exquisite stimulation in my lower parts, till I could not distinguish agony from ecstasy.

Hanging in my harness, I jerked through climax, once, twice, helpless in the face of my own debauched sensibilities.

Finally, the master stopped beating me. He released the gag that held me speechless. Then he gently stroked my scored nether cheeks. His touch was cool and soothing. “There, there, my sweet. You did well.”

The approval in his voice gave me more pleasure than all the sensual stimulation I had endured. I rubbed my cheek against his jacket, delighted that I had satisfied him.

However, we are not quite finished yet.” He pulled himself to his full height, looking me in the eye. Once again I remarked the cruel twist of his mouth. “You have not yet been fucked, and I understand that this is what you really want.” He unfastened and removed the thong between my legs. The leather was dark and slick with my moisture.

Only if it pleases you, master,” I whispered.

Oh, it does,” he said softly. “Montrose, come here.”

Buy Links

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Authorly Delusions, Persistent Fantasies - #BlackLace #Eroticon #SmutByTheSea @VictoriaBlisse

Writer in Red Shoes

What would I wear? That was what was on my mind as the publication date for my first novel grew closer, 'way back in 1999.

I'd somehow hit the karma jackpot. My first attempt at a novel had been accepted by the illustrious Black Lace imprint - the people who published my idol and inspiration Portia da Costa! I'd been corresponding with Kerri Sharp, the editor, a seriously no-nonsense sort of person. I imagined the numerous staff of Black Lace, all toiling away on the season's titles, including mine. And I wondered whether the publisher might throw some sort of sexy, glamorous release party for all the authors.

Black Lace's address at that time was “Thames Wharf”. I thought that sounded incredibly exotic and British. I could picture the place, a converted warehouse with a glassed-in ceiling and recessed lighting. I could imagine my fellow erotica authors, all decked out in leather or velvet, short skirts or long ones with provocative slits showing plenty of thigh, wearing boots or maybe even masks. I pictured myself among my peers, sipping champagne from crystal goblets and chatting about sex and writing. I fantasized about meeting Portia in person (I saw her as an elegant, curvy brunette) and telling her how she was responsible for my success.

I had no idea how I'd afford the trip to London. On the other hand, my book had been accepted, despite the incredibly tiny odds. Who could predict what the universe might hand me next? Maybe I could finance the trip out of my advance.

Did I really expect the party? Probably not. It was just fun to think about. I had no idea, though, how wildly unrealistic my fantasy was. Looking back now, I'm pretty sure that Kerri Sharp was more or the less the whole Black Lace staff all on her own. Like most publishers, Black Lace was undoubtedly scraping by, the margins on books getting smaller and smaller each year. Money to organize a party for the authors? I'm sure the notion would have evoked incredulous laughter.

A few years later, I visited the Blue Moon Books offices in lower Manhattan. I was a bit shocked by how small and grungy they seemed. I had imagined that publishers – New York publishers – had spacious office suites, luxurious conference rooms, sophisticated, erudite, well-paid editors who decided the fate of poor authors like me. Instead, Blue Moon was crammed into half the tenth floor of a hundred year old building with water stains on the ceiling and a tiny elevator that creaked like it was going to expire on the way up. My editor was disheveled and a bit shy, almost embarrassed by the fact that he published explicit sexual fiction.

Sigh. Welcome to the real world.

Since then, I've learned that erotica authors are not necessarily all that glamorous, either. I've gotten to know Portia fairly well in the cyber-sphere. She's a lovely middle aged lady with silver-blond hair who lives in a small town with her cats, pouring her fantasies out onto the page. I've been fortunate enough to actually meet some of my colleagues from the Erotica Readers and Writers Association and the Erotic Authors Association. With one or two exceptions, there's nothing about these people that would indicate they write fiction hot enough to scorch the page. They don't wear dog collars or stiletto heels. They have bad hair days and wear glasses, just like me.

I will admit, though, that it's always a high to meet another member of the inner circle. The excitement is palpable. It doesn't matter what we look like. Deep down, each of us knows we're in the presence of a fellow outlaw, and that's intoxicating.

Several years ago, I did have the pleasure of attending Smut by the Sea, a conference for erotic authors and readers in lovely Scarborough, hosted by the amazing Victoria Bliss. That was a true high. I met a bunch of folks whom I’ve known for ages online, including Victoria and her husband Kev, of course, but also Anna Sky, Ashe Barker, Delores Swallows, Kryssie Fortune and Ashley Lister. I got to read from one of my books (barely escaping a paddling for exceeding my five minutes), attended a workshop on writing shifter stories, overall just had a wonderful time.

Victoria is involved in another erotica conference in mid March, called Eroticon. God I wish I could go! Certainly I’ll be there in spirit. It’s being held in Londonjust like in my fantasies so long ago!

If you’re in the neighborhood, don’t miss it! We erotica authors might not be glamorous, but I guarantee, we’re a lot of fun!

Friday, February 23, 2018

Coming of age in Cuba -- #giveaway #politics #blogtour @DavidPeredaAVL

Havana Blues cover

David is giving away a $25 gift certificate as part of his tour for Havana Blues. Use the Rafflecopter at the end of the post to enter!


The year is 1952 and Ramon Rodriguez’s life as a teenager in fun-loving Havana is filled with typical activities and concerns: girls, education, religion, baseball, parties, and hanging out with friends. The country is enjoying a period of prosperity and happiness--until General Batista stages a coup that topples the government and Ramon’s life is flung into chaos.

In a few short years, the carefree fifties morph into a vicious and repressive dictatorship highlighted by corruption, organized gambling, school closures, student demonstrations, police brutality, and assassinations.

As Ramon experiences the thrills of his first romantic relationship, graduates from school, and struggles to plan for an uncertain future, he is forced to make important decisions that may be dangerous to him, his family, his friends, and his girlfriend – the beautiful Sonia -- and could turn deadly.


A car turned the corner with a screeching of tires. With mechanical harmony, another screeching echoed from the opposite direction.

Siren noises combined to wreck the peacefulness and drown my father’s voice as two cars skidded face to face in front of my house. I recognized the blue and white stripes. Car doors opened and slammed. A stream of policemen armed with rifles and machine guns crashed through the garden door and spilled over our garden like insects.

My mother shrieked once. My father stood paralyzed.

I stared in growing disbelief at the bulk who loped into the garden and stopped just outside the bright range of the porch lights. The clean-shaven face, the brittle smile, were familiar to me. So was the voice.

Buenas noches,’ Santana said. ‘Lovely night, isn’t it?’

Even with a veneer of politeness, Santana’s voice made the hair in the back of my neck stand on end.

What's the meaning of this?’ my father asked, surprising me. ‘Crashing into our house, as if we were common criminals.’

Santana’s stare was cold. ‘Just doing my duty, Señor Rodriguez.’ He turned to me, smoothing out the front of my dinner jacket with his hand. ‘You're very elegant tonight,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me, let me guess. You were at the Club Profesionales, weren’t you?’

Yes, we were,’ my mother said sharply, ‘and we had to leave because of some terrorists. Disgusting. And on his graduation dance night too.’ She glared at Santana.

He gave her a polite smile, more of a smirk, and turned to me.

Being in the building as you were, you could have planted that bomb very easily, couldn’t you?’

What? You think I…? No!’

No what?’

No, I couldn’t.’ My heart pounded in my chest. ‘My mother can testify to that.’

My mother had turned a chalky white and her lips were open and round like an O. She seemed at a loss for words.

About the Author

David Pereda was born in Havana, Cuba. The award-winning author of seven previous novels, he enjoys crafting political thrillers and edgy mainstream novels with unique characters placed in exotic settings. He has traveled to more than thirty countries and speaks four languages. Before devoting his time solely to writing and teaching, David had a successful international consulting career with global giant Booz Allen Hamilton, where he worked with the governments of Mexico, Venezuela, Peru and Qatar, among others.

A member of MENSA, David earned his MBA from Pepperdine University in California. He earned bachelor degrees in English literature and mathematics at the University of South Florida in Tampa.

He lives in artistic Asheville, North Carolina, with his youngest daughter Sophia, where he teaches mathematics and English at the Asheville-Buncombe Community College. He loves sports and is an accomplished competitor in track and show-jumping equestrian events.

Buy Links


Barnes and Noble:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, February 22, 2018

Lawyers in Love! @SeelieKay #KinkyBriefs #OnSale #Lawyers

Kinky Briefs Quatro cover

By Seelie Kay (Guest Blogger)

It is truly amazing how events of long ago suddenly leak into your consciousness and permit you to create characters and stories that have depth and a strong sense of reality.

After more than 30 years in the legal world, I must confess that the wickedness flowing from my pen is inspired by the men and women with whom I have worked or otherwise associated. Some I loved, some I despised, and still others, I barely noticed. As a former journalist, my powers of observation are strong, and many times I unwittingly catalog strange events and people, character flaws, and personality quirks only to have them reborn, but more pleasantly modified, in my stories.

Unfortunately, a singular observation does not translate into a full story or antagonist. Indeed, it takes a whole lot of idiosyncrasies and bizarre occurrences to craft a tale. And of course, to make things a bit more interesting, I throw in a dash of kink. Kink to me is not necessarily the whips, chains, blindfolds, and handcuffs popularized in recent tomes. I define kink as behavior outside the norm, proclivities that may fall on a spectrum that begins on the cusp of the vanilla world and extends deep into BDSM. However, my stories reflect my belief that the sexual aspect of any relationship should be pleasurable. 
That’s why my kinky lawyers are playful, inquisitive, willing, and open to exploration.

Most importantly, their behavior is consensual. What two or more people do behind closed doors is their business. It is not incumbent on any of us to judge or criticize. My stories may make you blush, they may even make you uncomfortable. My hope is that in the end, they will also make you think, and yes, make you smile. And if after reading this book, you feel compelled to run out and buy a set of handcuffs, I say go for it!
You only live once. Why not permit your imagination to occasionally run wild and intrude on your reality?


Take another kinky voyage through Lawyerland!

Indulge in a walk on the wild side with these sizzling short stories about lawyers in love, with a dash of kink. From painting well-hung nudes at a networking event or thwarting terrorists intent on harm to finding love despite a chronic illness or exploring kink on a train, these lawyers pursue love with a vengeance. And while affairs of the heart may come in all shapes and sizes—a law school ménage a trois, a middle-aged A.G. and a law firm associate, and a new marriage suddenly threatened by a spouse long believed dead—these relationships thrive despite the odds. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and yes, the resultant loin heating might even make you blush, but in the end, you’ll run out and buy a set of handcuffs. Because that’s the only way to defuse the sizzle created by these hot, sexy stories.

Coming soon from all major booksellers!

About Seelie Kay

Seelie Kay writes about lawyers in love, with a dash of kink.

Writing under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked pen has resulted in six works of fiction, all released in 2017, including Kinky Briefs, Kinky Briefs, Too, The Garage Dweller, Kinky Briefs, Thrice, and A Touchdown to Remember, as well as the romance anthology, Pieces of Us.

When not spinning her kinky tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. Currently, she resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.

Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!

Author links:

Twitter: @SeelieKay

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Tales of love with a BDSM twist -- @pebbleslacasse #mistress #submission #femdom

Mistress Tarah cover

By Pebbles Lacasse (Guest Blogger)

Hello everyone, Im Pebbles Lacasse. Its nice to meet you. Thank you Lisabet for having me as a guest on your blog. For all of you who have never heard my name before, Ill tell you a bit about the stories I write and how I create my characters.

Although Ive written books that arent sexual, my favorite tales to tell are about the delights of BDSM. Many readers think there cant be a love story to come from a book about consensual rough sex. I dont want the readers to get hung up on all the sexual aspects of the stories. Love is where its at, am I right? I adore a good romance. My characters always discover their love where they least expected to find them. Im always pleased to finish a book with a happy ending.

When starting a novel, I like to imagine characters that have interesting personalities and a wild sex drive. Each one is strong-minded, especially the submissives. Occasionally, however, their characteristics resemble people I know in real life. Some of my friends tell me about their wildest fantasies, most they would never act upon. But, there are others who whisper risqué details of the most exciting, taboo sex they have ever had. A few of those stories have made it into my books but I wont tell you which scenarios or their names. Secrecy is a must.

The main character in my book series, My JoeSmith, is quiet and seems innocent. She differs greatly from the woman who tells her tale in my third book, Alexa & Blaire. Both seek adventure as well as mind-blowing sexual experiences, and neither thinks love in on the table until all of a sudden, it is. Through trust, budding romances thrive, blooming into a bond stronger than the ropes used to bind them.

Mistress Tarah is my latest book, published February 16 of 2018. This book is a bit different than the others in that the storyteller is a dominatrix and not the submissive. It was so much fun to write the book from another perspective. I can see myself writing more books like this one. All of my BDSM books are published through eXcessica.

If love and explicit sexual scenes are your thing, check out the blurb for Mistress Tarah

Mistress Tarah quenches the secret kinky thirsts of her wealthy clients, pushing each persons boundaries to their limit. Whether they want to be humiliated, adored, punished or bound, she enjoys taking them into their world of fantasy, ensuring their experience with her is unequalled. Mistress Tarah thrives in her expert ability to dish out exactly the right amount of pain before pleasure, never leaving a client disappointed no matter the depth of their perversion.

Victor is a ferocious master of his own dungeon but when Mistress Tarah calls, she need only ask him to join her and he will eagerly fulfill her client’s desire of being physically overwhelmed by a muscle-bound beast of a man. He has an uncanny ability of bringing both men and women to unimaginable heightened states of arousal.

When he leaves the dungeon, he becomes the gentle giant who loves and adores Mistress Tarah with a patient easiness that she doesn’t understand. The one thing she fears the most is giving her love away, no matter how much she wants to let herself fall for Victor’s gentle touch, loving arms and his promise of an everlasting love.

Her fears of meeting his family have her doubting they will accept her unconditionally if Victor reveals who she is. When one of her top clients is discovered to be an important member of Victor’s family, will this new information cast her out of his life, proving to her once again that nobody can love unconditionally… not even Victor?

Have I tickled your interest? Not quite? Perhaps you need a little snippet from between the pages of Mistress Tarah. Here is an excerpt that just might pull on your naughty string

I have Steven lying face down, spread out on the floor while I sit on his lower back and spank his ass. Before he laid flat, I had him aim his prick to point toward his feet so the top of it rests against the floor. I shove my fingers into his asshole while my other hand presses down on the head of his engorged cock, nearly flattening it to the floor. He’s gasping and groaning as I punish his prick and asshole. He can hear his wife moaning but I have him so he can’t see her. I arranged him purposely this way to frustrate him, which will excite him even more.

My fingers slap at his testicles before stroking the tip of his cock. He’s crying out and moaning at the same time. It could all stop if he wanted it to but he enjoys the suffering. I can feel his manhood swelling beneath him. I push three fingers into his ass, and then four while fucking him slowly.

My attention is drawn back to Victor and Kim when she screams out from her first orgasm by him. His fingers are buried deep into her sloppy, wet cunt. I can hear the sloshing as his digits wave inside of her.

He looks to me and winks, letting me know that hes going to fuck her soon. I need to arrange Steven so he can watch her reactions. I order him to follow me crawling like a baby. He complies without a sound, standing as soon as we reach the pillars.
After fastening his hands together behind his back using metal handcuffs, I buckle a collar onto his neck and attach it to one of the ropes that hang from the ceiling chains, and then pull it until hes standing straight and tall. If his feet are flat on the floor, the collar will slow the blood flow to his brain but if hes on his toes, hell be fine. I will need to monitor him very closely in this position. The rope is set with a quick release if he gets weak or passes out.

I insert a large butt plug into his ass, which slips in easier than usual. Victor stretched him quite a bit. I stand in front of him and fondle his prick while he stares at my eyes, trying not to offend me by peeking at his wife and Victor. He learned a long time ago to watch me while I’m touching him, unless I instruct him otherwise. I slide a handheld fucking sleeve over his erect penis and slowly glide up and down his full length while I gingerly fondle his testicles with my free hand, squeezing hard at times.

Watch your wife. Victor is going to fuck her. Do you think she’ll scream? Maybe she’ll enjoy his cock so much that yours will no longer satisfy her.” My words are spoken in a soft, teasing voice while I make my way behind him so he can watch them… so we can both watch them.

My hand slides the fucking sleeve while my other plays with the butt plug, pushing and pulling it, not enough to say I’m fucking him with it, just teasing. I veer my eyes to the couple as he’s rolling on a condom. She is panting, anxiously awaiting his thick, rigid member.

He leans over like he’s going to kiss her but it’s in the contract that he doesn’t. He’s allowed to kiss her husband but not her. Steven felt it would be too emotionally intimate for a man to kiss another man’s wife. He’s sure he’d get jealous if that were to occur. People never know what they will or will not get upset about until the situation arises and by then, sometimes it’s too late. I warned couples to be conscious of that, especially for their first time with a bisexual male partner.

He lines up his large cock and slowly pushes forward, sliding all the way into her without pausing. Her mouth gapes, releasing a long, loud moan. He pulls his hips back and then glides into her with great care not to slam hard the first few times. She’s watching his washboard abs flex and relax. He puts his hands on the back of his head and purposely flexes his muscles as he fucks her.

Her face reddens and she screams out, “I’m coming!” Her teeth clench as she fights to keep her eyes open so she can see the glorious creature before her but they flutter and then squeeze tightly shut.

Victor pushes his pelvis against her and holds, grabbing her waist to help hold himself inside her as her cunt spasms around his prick. He will not let her spray, thus not giving her the powerfully orgasmic experience that every woman so desires. As soon as her body eases, he begins hammering into her. She’s watching his face again as he watches his cock fill her completely. When he looks back up at her, she’s coming again. He holds inside her waiting for her to ease, once again refusing her the gushing orgasm.

He pulls out of her long enough to walk a few steps to collect a vibrating wand from the floor beside them. He lines up and slides into her wet cunt with a quick thrust. She’s already moaning, working up another orgasm. I think she’s so infatuated by his appearance that he could be the worst lay ever and she’d still orgasm, but he is very good, I know this for a fact.

He presses the vibrating wand against her clit and she starts squirming against the restraints. Soon she’s wailing and moaning, begging him not to stop what he’s doing to her. He continues to fuck her with an easygoing rhythm while vibrating her tiny cluster of nerves. As soon as she starts whining like she’s going to climax, he slams his prick into her cunt repeatedly, with force. Kim falls silent, her face reddening as she holds her breath, so lost in ecstasy, her brain too overcome by pleasure to realize that she needs to breathe.

Victor suddenly pulls out of her and spins to the side as a flooding gush of cum sprays from her spastic cunt, splashing onto the floor. Her body convulses as she gasps in a long breathe and then screams, demanding him to continue. “Fuck me hard!”

Do you want to read more? I hope you do. Here are some links to my author pages to help you


About Pebbles

Pebbles Lacasse is a writer of erotic sex that some would consider to be taboo. The genre of BDSM is sadly overlooked by many, but Pebbles enjoys creating characters with big personalities that are easy for most readers to assimilate with, especially ifnormalis not what you crave. Although shes written sci-fi and mystery under her real name, sex is what she writes best.

Having been raised in a small town in southern Canada, she learned the value of keeping life simple. Pebbles remains near her birthplace even though she has lived elsewhere. Home is with family. Shes worked in many jobs that taught her what it means to work hard but due to illness, is now at home creating characters who love to be bad.

Shes married to the love of her life who just so happens to be her best friend. Together theyve raised two amazing children who are now grown and living happy, productive lives. She keeps her family close to her heart, always and forever.

Be good to one another and don’t hurt anyone, unless they ask you to.


Pebbles Lacasse