Red Hot Zombie Cocktails!

Hi,

I promised you it was a busy week on Superotica and I promised you zombies! So what’s today all about?

When Kristina Lloyd invited me to her online Kinky Cocktail party, I knew immediately what I wanted to drink. It’s zombie week here on Superotica, so it had to be a Zombie – a classic rum cocktail that’ll have you swinging from the rafters in no time. Ms Lloyd is celebrating the release of her latest dark, deep and sexy offering, Undone, which will be published by Black Lace on 11th September. It’s an erotic thriller that has been setting my pulse racing as I’ve been reading it over the past few days – and I’ll be featuring a sizzling excerpt from it here on 12th September as part of the official blog tour!

But today is all about sharing a few drinks and having some fun. The main party is taking place all day on Facebook at Kinky Cocktails and Digital Drinking and you can find out more about the blog tour on Kristina’s website. I’ll be popping by the Facebook page a little later on today with a few copies of Zombie Erotoclypse to give away – perfect reading while you sip on a Zombie.

18743907_sThe Zombie

4 parts dark rum

2 parts light rum

1 part 151 rum

1 part apricot brandy

2 parts each of orange, pineapple and lime juice

1 tsp sugar

Blend all the ingredients with ice apart from the 151. Strain into a highball glass and then float the 151 on the top. Garnish with a slice of pineapple, orange or lime, mint leaves and a cherry.

Drink with pleasure!

 

And now you’ve got a drink in your hand, what about a visit to the Zee Club? This is the scary zombie sex bar that features in my story “Red Hot Zombie Cock” – the curtain raiser in Zombie Erotoclypse. The zombie apocalypse has happened and LA has morphed into Zombie City. Pockets of humans eek out an existence where they can. The Zee Club is one of the last remaining bars and it takes some nerve to go and drink there…

Excerpt

Honey leads us down a flight of candlelit stairs and then another.  The club is underground and it quickly becomes apparent why.  Long before we get to where we’re going, I can hear the scream of zombies above a pulsing beat of heavy metal.  The base thuds in my chest and the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms stand up.  I’m getting a bad feeling about this but, ahead of me, Skylar is practically skipping down the stairs.  At the bottom there’s another long corridor and then finally Honey stops in front of a pair of matte black doors and turns towards us.

Never have I felt such trepidation as I do now, waiting for the doors to open on what I’m sure will resemble one of Dante’s circles of Hell.

“Good luck,” says Honey.

“Thanks,” says Skylar and, stepping forward, he kisses her.  Full on, mouth open, tongues.

Good luck?  Why the hell are we going to need luck?

Skylar disengages himself and shoulders the door open.  I follow him through, only to be crushed by a wall of noise and heat and smell.  Zombie-stink.  Like the rodent house in the zoo but ten times more pungent.  It stings the back of my throat and I start to cough.  There’s a whiff of cigarette smoke in the air as well and the humidity of too many sweaty bodies in a confined space.

It’s too dark to see much.  Bodies and movement.  I think people are dancing around us but the crowd seems thicker to one side of the cavernous room and it’s from this direction that I hear the unmistakable guttural retching noises that the zombies make when they’re about to feed.  A shiver runs up through me and I look back towards the doors – but they’ve shut and I can’t even make out their outline on the dark black wall.

“Come on, let’s get a drink,” says Skylar.

On the opposite side to the zombie crowd, there’s a small bar but even here people are jostling for space.  Skylar fights his way through while I take in more of the details, my eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the dark.  The crowd is made up of mainly men, young men – more people than I knew were even alive and living in Zombie City – but there are some girls, too, and all of them have the hardened look of survivalists.

Skylar appears at my side and pushes a glass into my hand.  I sniff it – bourbon.  It’s been an age since I had any alcohol.  It’s getting hard to come by.

“Happy birthday, Marsha,” he says, touching his glass to mine.

“You’ve been here before?”  I have to shout to make myself heard over the music.

“Loads of times.”

“What goes on?”

“You mean with the biters?  Like I said, you get to fuck ‘em, if you want.”

The bourbon burns a path down my throat and I cough again.  But it’s good medicine and I finish it off quickly, enjoying the warmth that radiates through me.

“I’ll get you another.”

When Skylar comes back, he gestures me to follow him and then weaves ahead of me through the crush to the other side of the room.  I throw back my second bourbon to calm my nerves and step forward as the crowd parts in front of me.  I don’t know what I expect to see but the reality is like nothing I could have imagined.

In a pool of bright white light, there’s a small stage.  On it, attached to two St Andrew’s crosses against the back wall, are a male and a female zombie.  Their wrists and ankles are shackled with wide metal cuffs and their jaws are muzzled.  Other than that they’re both completely naked.  I’ve never seen naked zombies before but these two have all the required body parts and, though their skin is already grey tinged, they can’t have been zombies long as there are no real signs of decay.  Their heads are thrashing and both of them are roaring with zombie blood lust.  But what really catches my eye is the male zombie’s cock.  It’s erect and it’s huge, bouncing up against his stomach as he writhes against his restraints.

“See what I mean, Marsha?” whispers Skylar in my ear.  “Wouldn’t you like a bit of that?”

I’m shocked to feel the familiar tug of longing deep down inside as my muscles clench.  It must be the bourbon and the fact that I haven’t had sex in a while.  It’s not as if I’m going to find a zombie in any way sexy.

The crowd’s baying almost as loud as the zombies and suddenly Honey appears, standing between the two crosses.  She has a mike in her hand and her hips pulse with the beat of the music.  Some of the guys at the front yell their appreciation and whistle.  She smiles back at them and then holds up her hand as a signal for quiet.  Somewhere an unseen DJ turns down the music.

“Come and get it,” she whispers into her mike, her throaty voice making the words sound incredibly sexy.

The spectators respond with a roar.

“Who wants to try out this bad boy here,” she says, running a finger tip down the male zombie’s chest, “and this hot young thing?”  She tweaks one of the female zombie’s nipples, making her hiss behind her muzzle.  “Just one lucky guy and one lucky girl.  That’s all I’m looking for tonight.”

“She wants someone to go up and have sex with the zombies, right in front of everyone?” I whisper to Skylar.

“It’s all part of the show,” says Skylar.  “But they keep a bunch more in private rooms for paying guests.  I’ve got one reserved for you.”

“No way, Skylar.”  I shake my head.  I’ll watch the show, if that’s what it was, but more than that…

A kid steps forward, maybe eighteen or nineteen, shaven head and ripped torso.  He says something to Honey that I can’t hear and her face breaks into a wide grin.

“Okay, I got a taker for Miss Zee.”  She wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulders and then brings the mike back to her mouth.  “Come on, girls, someone’s got to be jonesing for this great big stud over here.”

A ripple of whispers runs through the crowd and people shuffle and shove.  Eventually two women step forward, holding hands and giggling.

“Wow! A tag team,” says Honey.  “This is going to be awesome.”

Then the music ramps back up as Honey pulls her three victims into a huddle.

“Watch and learn,” says Skylar, grinning widely.

The volume seems to increase even more and the two women step to one side.  Honey grabs the guy’s wrist and holds his arm up high in the air, like a champion fighter being paraded round the ring.  He takes a bow and then turns to face the female zombie.  Suddenly the room is silent.

“Go for it, Mack,” screams a woman.

Mack steps forward and from where we’re standing, slightly to one side, I can see that he’s rubbing against the groin of his jeans with one hand.  I can hardly believe what I’m watching and I almost forget to breath.  After a couple of thrusts against his hand, the boy unzips his pants and wrestles his cock out through the slit, tangling with it until it’s standing proud outside the denim.  He makes a half turn to let the crowd see his impressive erection, a wide grin on his face.

“Jesus,” I say and Skylar puts an arm round my waist.  I’m not sure I want to see this.

“Fuck her!” yells a guy.

He turns back to the cross and puts a hand out to touch the zombie.  He brushes it, quite softly, across her breasts, making the zombie grunt and strain against her restraints.  The grin has gone from his face and he looks completely fascinated.  He runs his fingers down her torso, slowly, exploring the texture of her rough, grey skin.  Under his touch, she bucks and the grunt becomes a moan that steadily increases in volume the further down he ventures.  On the next cross, the male zombie seems to sense what’s happening and starts baying as he, too, struggles to get free.

“Apparently zombies have an epic sex drive,” whispers Skylar in my ear, and I feel his hot breath on my neck.

“No way!”

“True,” he says.  “Just watch.”

Mack spits on his index and middle finger and pushes them down between the zombie’s splayed legs.  It has an instantaneous effect, as if a jolt of electricity has been passed through her body.   Her back arches and her head whips from side to side as she releases a full-blooded zombie scream.  In the enclosed space, it tears the air and reverberates in ears and chests.  Mack looks back over his shoulder at the baying audience, his grin back in place.  Then he takes his cock in one hand and uses his other hand to find a pathway into the zombie’s pussy.  He strokes his swollen head up and down between her lips and then I see his hips surge forward as he pushes himself inside.  She screams again and the male zombie roars with her.  When I look at him, I realize his cock’s even larger now and he’s pulling harder against the bindings at his wrists and ankles.

The crowd goes wild with catcalls and whistles as Mack pumps in and out of her.  And despite my revulsion for what I’m seeing, I realize that between my legs I’m wet.  Skylar pulls me back against his body and I can hear that his breathing has quickened.  He grinds his hips against my ass and I feel the bulge of a nascent erection.

Out in front, Mack’s building toward his climax, thrusting faster and harder, grappling with the zombie’s breasts and even sucking on one of her nipples.  He arches his back and throws his head back, though his valedictory roar is drowned out by the noise of the crowd and the baying zombies.  It’s a scene of complete mayhem as the audience surges forward and the air’s rent by a loud cracking sound.  I blink and things go into slow motion.

The male zombie has split his cross in two and, now able to use his arms, he makes short work of turning the heavy beams into nothing more than kindling.  Still cuffed at his wrists and ankles, he ploughs into the crowd like the Incredible Hulk and there’s a surge for the doors as panic takes over.

Oblivious to what’s going on behind him, Mack pulls out of the female zombie and drops to his knees in front of her.  Tongue out, he dips his head between her splayed thighs and I can quite literally see the orgasm breaking over her as he eats her pussy voraciously.

Then Skylar’s tugging on my arm.

“He’s coming this way.”

*****

 

Screen Shot 2014-08-22 at 1.25.39 amPhew – I expect you could do with another drink after that – so go and join the party! And if you want to find out what happens to Marsha and Skylar, Zombie Erotoclypse is available from:

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

Smashwords

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Naked Ambition and Blissful Ingredients

Hi,

Today I’m handing Superotica over to the brilliant Lisabet Sarai for the next stop on her The Ingredients of Bliss blog tour. I’ve long been an admirer of Lisabet’s writing and in her post today, she shows us a little of how the mind of a writer works… Over to you, Lisabet…

Ambition

By Lisabet Sarai

 My crit partner Chris, who’s a whiz in the area of writing craft, tells me that every main character should have a governing characteristic. What does “governing characteristic” mean? As far as I can figure out, it’s some personality trait or deep-seated need that drives the character’s actions and thus sets the story in motion.

Now, I don’t usually analyze my writing at that level. I write more or less by instinct. However, my most recent conversation with Chris on this topic got me thinking about Mei Lee “Emily” Wong, the heroine of my new novel The Ingredients of Bliss. I’ve decided that if Emily has a governing characteristic, it must be ambition.

At the start of the prequel to the novel, my short story Her Secret Ingredient, Emily has just arrived from Hong Kong to do a series of guest shows with the renowned host Etienne Duvalier on the Tastes of France TV network. She already has a successful career as a chef in Hong Kong, but she appears to want more wide-spread exposure. Her goal is to have her own national or international TV show. Emily views the temporary job with TOF as a stepping stone toward that objective.

When she realizes that Etienne does not approve of her – or at least, of her cooking techniques – she sets out to seduce him in order to soften him up. Her motivations aren’t purely pragmatic –  she finds Etienne extremely attractive, sexually – but she wouldn’t have risked giving him an aphrodisiac just for personal reasons. Her plan backfires, throwing her into the arms of the surprisingly virile producer for the show, Harry Sanborne. Harry’s clearly smitten with her, and she’s tempted to return his feelings. However, her interest in her career still takes precedence.

In the follow-on novel, Emily finds once more that her career plans are at odds with her emotions. Rationally, she understands that the love triangle involving her, Harry and Etienne can’t possibly endure, and she worries that if their dalliance is exposed, the network will retaliate by firing her. At the same time, she can’t bring herself to break off with either Etienne or Harry. Unlike some romance heroines, who trust their hearts first and foremost, Emily is conflicted.

Harry recognizes her ambivalence, but he loves her too much to force her into a decision. Only when Harry’s and Etienne’s lives hang in the balance does Emily find the clarity she needs to transcend her ambition and unequivocally choose love over success.

I realize this probably makes Emily sound like a cold-hearted bitch. Nothing could be further from the truth. Her passionate nature is part of what attracts both Harry and Etienne. When she enters the bedroom, she normally leaves her ambition behind. Still, it nags at her, until a close brush with death lets her see that without love, success  is hollow.

 

IngredientsOfBlissCover200x320Excerpt

The afternoon schedule called for a tourism segment filmed at the Château d’If. The sixteenth century fortress and notorious prison off the coast was now one of Marseille’s major attractions. A brisk sea breeze rifled my hair as our boat emerged from the Old Port into open water. Etienne and I stood side by side at the rail, watching the forbidding gray walls of the citadel grow taller as we approached.

He’d donned a tailored spruce green jacket for the trip, which brought out the reddish highlights in his hair. Meanwhile, wardrobe had me wearing a hyper-feminine, floral patterned summer dress that fluttered around my bare thighs. It didn’t suit me at all, at least in my opinion. In addition, it protected me from neither the ferocious sun nor the biting wind.

I wanted to cuddle up to the inviting male body next to me, to feel Etienne’s warmth and breathe in his citrus cologne. The cameras were trained on us, though, so I didn’t dare. I felt Harry watching, too, in the background. He wouldn’t mind if I gave in to temptation, of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was picturing Etienne’s hand sliding under my ridiculous frilly skirt and cupping my ass cheeks, in full view of the crew.

I tried to banish the provocative image. Instead, my overly active mind continued to embroider upon that initial scenario.

Etienne’s fingers steal under the elastic waistband of my knickers and down along my rear cleft, brushing across my rear hole before diving into my rapidly moistening pussy. He steps behind me, shielding me from the eyes of the camera crew. Surely they’ll know what is going on, though, as he flips up my skirt and rubs his erect cock over my silk-sheathed buttocks. In the real world, the submissive chef would never be so forward—would he?—but in my fantasy, he peels away my panties, unzips his fly, and slides into me without even asking permission.

And Harry? What does Harry do while Etienne is taking such liberties? Producer becomes director. Harry turns and positions us, so Etienne’s back is to the rail, his cock still lodged inside me from behind. When Harry has us where he wants us, he tucks my skirt into my belt, drags my knickers all the way to my knees, and crouches down to lap at my exposed pussy.

Oh, by the gods, I’m really turned on now! Etienne stretches my pussy, while Harry teases my clit. Is Harry’s tongue encountering Etienne’s cock? The forbidden notion just excites me more. And the crew, staring at this tableau? They’re aroused too. All of them, aside from Lisa, are male. Unable to resist the effects of our raunchy performance, they haul their hard cocks out of their trousers. They jerk themselves off as they watch the stars of Toutes Les Saveurs fulfill hungers of a more carnal sort.

Lisa acts shocked at first, but before long she has one hand thrust into her blouse, massaging her breast, with the other is buried in her panties. Harry brings me to the edge again and again, handling his own hard rod while he tortures me. The slick head grazes my thigh, letting me know that once Etienne has filled me with his cum, it will be Harry’s turn…

 

Details

The Ingredients of Bliss By Lisabet Sarai

Contemporary BDSM ménage

Totally Bound, 2014

 

Blurb

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Accomplished cook Mei Lee “Emily” Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.

When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?

 

Get your copy today! 

 The special VIP edition of The Ingredients of Bliss is now available from Totally Bound. This version contains a sizzling bonus chapter not available from other retailers. Totally Bound has the most advanced book selling site of any independent publisher on the web, with new One-Click ordering and direct delivery to all e-reader platforms.

 

Blog Tour Prizes

 First prize: $30 gift certificate to Sur La Table (http://www.surlatable.com)

Second prize: $20 gift certificate to Whole Foods Market (http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com)
Third prize: Three-pack of ebooks from my back list, including a copy of Her Secret Ingredient, the prequel to The Ingredients of Bliss.
Cookbook
I’ll also be giving a PDF copy of my own original cookbook, Recipes from an International Kitchen, to everyone who leaves a comment. AND I have a bonus $10 Totally Bound gift certificate for the tour host who gets the most reader comments.

 To enter, simply leave a comment that includes your email address. You can enter once for each spot in the tour. For the full tour schedule, go to:

 http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2014/08/ingredients-of-bliss-blog-tour-starts.html

 

About the Author

 I started both writing and cooking at an early age, and I’ve continued to indulge both passions as I’ve matured. Usually I’m an improvisational cook; I’m not all that fond of following recipes, and when I do, I almost always introduce my own variations. My philosophy tends to be the more spice, the better.

You could say the same about my writing. Since the release of my debut novel Raw Silk in 1999, I’ve published lots of erotica and erotic romance in almost every sub-genre– more than fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. My gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

I have more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by my chosen genre. Widely traveled but still with a long bucket list of places to go, I currently live in Southeast Asia with my indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where I pursue an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.

Website: http://www.lisabetsarai.com

Blog: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Goodreads page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai

Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai

Those girls are having another pillow fight…

Hi,

In what’s becoming an incredibly busy week on Superotica, I’m taking this chance to slip in a small excerpt from the latest installment of Pillow Talk Secrets. If you haven’t come across it before, picture a frothy, lacy boudoir where three charming erotica writers lounge on elegant chaises longues drinking absurdly strong cocktails and gossiping about…well, whatever!

KissyFaceTalkingDirtyJade A Waters, Malin James and I spend most of our time lounging, drinking cocktails and gossiping and, just occasionally, we like to let you listen in over on our sister site, Pillow Talk. So to give you a taste, here’s the start of the latest session – please head on over to Pillow Talk if you’d like to read the rest!

 

Pillow Talk Secrets

 

Tamsin: Hello, girls. Nice to see you!

Jade: You as well! How are you?

T: Great!

Malin: Hi ladies! I’m here!

T: Hello, gorgeous!

M: Ah, now this is how I want to start a day – chatting with the two of you. Nothing tops it.

J: So true! Now, who’s leading us today?

M: Our lovely, Tamsin, I believe! And I think she’s got something really interesting in mind.

J: Bring it, T!

T: Okay, I’m going to launch us straight in to today’s topic: Is it all right for the heroine of your book to sleep with more than one partner? This is a question that’s been batting around my brain for quite some time now. As you two know, I’ve just finished the first draft of my sexy spy thriller, Honeytrap, and my heroine certainly gets called upon to cosy up with the villains as well as the good guys. But I remembered reading somewhere that it’s a big no-no to readers if the heroine sleeps with multiple partners. How would you two handle this dilemma?

M: So, I have a couple of thoughts right off the top of my head. The first is that context is probably critical – how and why is she sleeping with multiple partners seems to make quite a difference in how readers respond… What do you think, Jade?

J: I agree. There are so many variations here – is she a free bird, is she cheating, is she in a negotiated polyamorous situation? Maybe we should focus on one at a time.

T: Ooh! Free bird is a new expression for me. I like that!

Why should she choose between them?

Why should she choose between them?

J: I just made that up. :)

M: I love it! Interestingly, I think the free bird scenario is the trickiest for writers. There’s still  surprising amount stigma attached to a female character who sleeps with multiple partners for no other reason than she wants to. Her own desire might be perfectly valid justification, but that doesn’t seem to settle well with readers in general. It’s a real shame, actually. There’s a lot in that restriction that doesn’t sit well with me.

J: I think that’s still, sadly, largely due to the real life cultural view on women having multiple partners – and it translates directly into people’s reading.

T: And this is where the question is interesting. Obviously, if someone buys a menage story, they’re expecting multiple partners. But there seems to be a real move in the market towards erotic romance rather than plain erotica at the moment – and with it comes a demand for the heroine to be, how shall I put it, better behaved or in lurve!

You’ll find the rest of our chatter on Pillow Talk.

Review: Zombie Erotoclypse

tamsinflowers1:

Hi,
I feel that I’ve been neglecting my poor zombie friends a little, here on Superotica, so I’m making this week an official Zombie Week! To kick things off, I’m reblogging this wonderful review by Delilah Night – thank you so much, darling Delilah! Then on Friday, I’m joining Kristina Lloyd’s cocktail craze with a special zombie post – look out for it!
Tamsin
xxx

Originally posted on Delilah Night:

Screen Shot 2014-08-22 at 1.25.39 am

After he read my review of (among other favorites) “POW! It’s Shibari Girl!” by Tamsin Flowers in my review of The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica, my husband told me that Tamsin had published a collection of zombie erotica.

Readers, I married the man for a reason.  He gets me.  I immediately opened my Kindle app and bought it.

This 5 story anthology by Tamsin Flowers will gross you out, make you squirm for all the right reasons, and then finish you off with a laugh.

Why does it even cross my mind to entertain this idea for a nanosecond?  it’s go so many things going against it and so much about it just plain wrong.  Zombie cock?  The risk of death by zombie.  The risk of death by marauder.  A skanky club–and I hate clubs, even great clubs.  Just for the chance to stick some zombie’s grey and…

View original 619 more words

Drenched: It’ll Make You Wet!

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Hi,

I love my job for so many reasons – but one of the really great ones is that I get to sit and read erotica all day long and it’s work. I’m not slacking, I’m actually working hard. Turning the pages as fast as I can to reach the really dirty bits… After all, somebody’s got to do it.

And this week, I’ve had the exquisite pleasure of reading Drenched, a new anthology of wild and wet erotica from Sweetmeats Press, compiled by Kojo Black. I’d heard of Sweetmeats Press quite some time ago and I knew that they produced illustrated erotica, but this was the first time I’d actually read any of their output. And, boy, will I be reading some more!

Drenched isn’t illustrated but the five water-themed stories are completely capable of conjuring up a series of delectable images in your mind – from Janine Ashbless’s seductive “Melusine” to Justine Elyot’s adventurous “Naiad”, from Primula Bond’s riotous “Pool Party” to Lisette Ashton’s wicked executive in “Hard to Swallow” and Vina Green’s vicar’s-wife-with-a-secret in “A Divine Solution”. The quality of the writing is excellent throughout and, although sticking to the central theme, there is plenty of variety in the stories Black presents. Droughts are foiled, office politics are played and parties explode with a bang and all through it, the erotic power of water runs with an insistent throbbing that sweeps you from one story to the next. But be careful of the undercurrent – you could be in danger of being sucked under!

I have to say that my favorite story was Justine Elyot’s “Naiad”, so here’s an excerpt from it:

I arrived in the shade of the lime tree and sat down, shivering a little. It wasn’t cold, but the shade gave me a tiny sensation of chill, goose-pimpling my skin. Or perhaps that was nerves. I wrapped my arms around my knees and hugged them against my breasts, squashing my stiff nipples. They were beginning to ache from being so swollen for so long. He had touched them, pressed them, they were his now.

What would it be like to be his, in reality? To live here in his lakeside house, subject to his will? I drifted into a fantasy life, imagining us sitting in a boat at sunset while he fed me strawberries, talking about what he would do to me when he got me home to bed. I’d like to hear him talk like that, hear him say those words.

He’d keep me in a shallow pool, chained to the side because naiads were notoriously slippery creatures who could not be trusted. He’d unchain me when he wanted to take me out of my element and use me. He’d use me a lot …

I was shaken out of my increasingly lurid imaginings by his voice, making me jump.

“I thought I told you to lie down.”

It was light, pleasantly-spoken, but I knew at once that I should do as he said. Only somebody completely deaf to nuance could have failed the recognize the steel beneath the smile.

He was carrying things. Not just condoms. A cool box of the kind you’d use for a picnic, and a watering can. How strange.

But I didn’t question it. I straightened my spine down among the daisies and felt the cool tickle of the grass between my thighs. Above me, the sun glinted and hid through a tangle of branch and leaf. I could fall asleep like this, if only it weren’t for the face, looking down at me from a height, sweeping my prostrate form with hungry but pitiless eyes.

“How do you feel, Naiad?” he asked.

He had put down his burden and tightened the belt of his silk robe around him. He hadn’t offered one of those to me. I could do with one. The breeze was becoming more evident, especially around my nipples.

“I feel vulnerable,” I said, pressing my thighs together and curling my toes.

“Vulnerable, yes, good. But are you comfortable?”

“I think so.”

“Not too dry? Poor little naiad is used to the water, isn’t she?”

“I suppose so.” The residual drops from the jacuzzi had all slid off my skin now.

He knelt down by my side and passed his hands over my upper torso, rubbing and stroking over my breasts and collarbone and down over my stomach.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, bending to kiss my navel. “Very dry. This must not be comfortable for you?”

“It’s …”

But before I could continue, I let out a sharp cry.

He had reached into his picnic box and brought something out, which he placed square on my belly. It was a goddamn ice cube!

“Oh my god, that’s freezing!”

I tried to turn so it would slide off, but he tutted and held it in place with the tip of a finger.

“No, no, no,” he said. “This is good for you.”

I wriggled and shivered and whimpered while he sent the cube on a little journey, leaving cold wet tracks across my skin. He let it glide between my breasts, then climb their slopes, circling—but never quite coming into contact with—my nipples, until the damn thing melted.

I was gasping with the cold, but he showed mercy by kissing all the places the cube had chilled, warming them back up with his fulsome lips and tongue.

I wondered if he could tell that I was ready for him now … more than ready. My clit felt ready to burst with need for his attention and I didn’t need any ice cube to get me wet down there. Could he scent it? Something told me that he could.

But it didn’t mean he was going to go easy on me.

Another bullet of ice materialized on my nipple, making me arch my spine and howl. He was amused by this, holding my poor throbbing bud between finger and thumb and keeping the ice cube where he wanted it. He kept it there, not moving, just until my nipple went beyond pain and into numbness, then he transferred it to the other. The expression of satisfaction on his face told me how he enjoyed watching me writhe. I didn’t find it frightening. I found it intensely arousing. He was using me the way he wanted and I was willing to comply, even if it did mean purple nipples.

“I know it’s cold,” he whispered. “But you’ll warm it up, won’t you? Because you aren’t cold. You’re on fire.”

He put his free hand between my thighs and rubbed the juicy swollen clit he found there. Yes, there was his proof. I couldn’t deny what I was, what I craved.

The ice shrunk and disappeared, its existence only evidenced by the rivulets trickling down my breasts into the furrow between them.

Eberhardt put his face there and lapped up the crystal droplets, then flicked the tip of his tongue over my recovering nipples. The warmth buzzed them back into painful life. I wriggled my bottom into the buttercups as he opened his lips and sucked.

He alternated between nipples, dipping lazy fingers between my pussy lips and into my cunt at the same time. I was so close to coming from the double stimulation of being fingered and sucked simultaneously that I began to squirm. Instantly, he stopped what he was doing and smiled down at me. The sun had gone in. The leaves rustled against a stronger breath of wind.

“Oh,” was all I could whisper.7743750_s

“Not yet,” he teased. “Naiads are very sensual little creatures, aren’t they? I had no idea. I think more ice …”

“Oh no,” I moaned, but he was quick and deft and before I could clamp my legs together he was holding a cube to my clit. I kicked my legs against the acuteness of the sensation, but he rubbed slowly, up and down, then in slow circles, using his free hand to stroke and brush and pinch my nipples. I cried out and he popped a finger in my mouth, silencing me, making me suck on it. Now all I could do was hump my bottom up and down in a useless quest to free myself from my freezing invader.

Buy it here:

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

Barnes & Nobel

Sweetmeats Press

Best Sex on the Net – Elust 61

elust header
Photo courtesy of Maria opens up

Welcome to Elust #61 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #62? Start with the rules, come back September1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Bloggers, please
I Touch Myself
Stunt Porn / People Porn

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Is sex unsexy? A ‘His & Hers’ post
Van Gogh, an erotic author and a selfie…

 

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

His Desires

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7

days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Anorgasmia in women
One Week On
chatterbox
Safe Craigslist Hookups
Online Dating: How to Talk to People
Stealth Sex Toys-Stash Management
Last Longer In Bed For Men Naturally

Erotic Non-Fiction

Spicing Up Sex Life
Gasp, Shake, Thank You
Again and Again
Fapping to My Photos and Stories
Did you miss me?
Desire….What happens when you can’t succumb?
Off Balance
On the Sofa
The Solace of My Body
Self Given
Orgasms & Ice Cream
Skid Marks

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Nasty
Jacky au royaume des filles
What makes a sex writer?
Dubrovnik whore as metaphor 4 Balkan politics
Am I Pretty or Ugly?

Erotic Fiction

Lonely observations
Fucking and Being Fucked
The Churning Black, Part 4
A Return to Purpose
Bang on Target!
Polished
Please
My Night With Lilith

Writing About Writing

Words That Shouldn’t Be In Erotica
Transhumanist Erotica: Jacked In

Blogging

Just One Look

Thoughts and Advice on Kink and Fetish

The Hotness Of Cockteasing A Guy In Chastity
My eyes are over here
Submissive Men 101 Facts
Emotional Masochism
The time I made him make me safeword

Poetry

Frame Game – A Lusty Limerick

Events

Diana J Torres- Vagaculation Workshop

ELust Site Badge

Lost in The Big Book of Submission!

 

Hi,

Looking for some super spicy reading as you soak up the last of the summer sun? Then can I suggest The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales, edited by sexy story supremo Rachel Kramer Bussel and published by Cleis Press? Page after sizzling page of slinky subs and hot doms, pushing each other’s buttons and playing power games… Just be careful you don’t overheat!

Superotica is the latest stop on The Big Book of Submission blog tour so now it’s my turn to tell you about my story in this pantechnicon of kinky delights. “The Lost Suitcase” is a little tale of everybody’s holiday nightmare-that moment when you discover that your suitcase has gone to Miami while you’ve arrived in Los Angeles. But the loss of this particular suitcase didn’t mean the owner had to go out and purchase a new toothbrush and swimsuit. This was the case with the toys in it-and given you know which book this is in, you’ll know what sort of toys I’m talking about!

Sometimes we’re all faced with the need to improvise and that’s what happens here. After a trip to Target, this enterprising Dom has restocked his arsenal (no pun intended!) and is ready for action!

TF1Here’s an excerpt:

“Bend over the bed.”

I knew the position he meant. I knelt beside the bed and leaned forward until my ass was bent over the edge.  I loved this moment-and I hated it.  He knew it and he made me wait until the anticipation of what might be coming next had me squirming.  I wanted it and I didn’t want it in equal measures.

A sharp shock of pain, a lingering after burn.

“There were so many things on the shelves at Target to choose from,” he said.  “I could have bought a leather belt.  Electric cables.  A table tennis paddle. A canoe paddle.  A wooden spoon.  A ruler.  Let me count the ways I could mark your skin.”

All the while he continued striking my ass, first one side, then the other, building up the intensity slowly.  It was his special skill.  I couldn’t begin to guess the object slapping hard and flat against my flesh and after a while I couldn’t even process his words.  I lost myself in the physical sensation, living and breathing only for the moment when he would transform the pain into pleasure with a slick of lube and the work of a finger or two.

Finally he tossed his implement aside, and I heard a metallic clash on the tiled floor.

“What?” I gasped.

“A skillet,” he said.  “They had it on special and we could do with a new one.”

 

Want to follow the rest of the tour? Here’s the schedule.

You can buy The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales at:

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

Cleis Press