Welcome to Elust #60 -

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 #61? Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Shame Hurts

Of Cocks and Cunts: The Language of Erotica

#RealBodiesAreSexy

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

I may never suck another cock, but I’m still

The sofa

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

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

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

My Aftercare
YKINMK but My Kink is Not YOUR Kink either
Nerds, Pervs, and Jeffrey Dahmer
Sex Is Simple. That’s Why It’s So Complicated
Cuckolding. The Step Child of BDSM?
What Is A Man’s Role At A CFNM?
Happily whipping Jesus
What are your views on the ethics of kink?
FetLife and The Single Gal
How Porn and BDSM Helped Me

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Tall guys! You’re a bunch of sick perverts!
In Which I Fuck Up and My Uterus Saves Me
Why Is There So Much Shame?
Birds do it, Bees do it…
Little Lower Layer
Wooing, pursuing, romancing a dominant woman
Sexual Freedom. Why Do I Feel I Need to Hide.
Our Age Gap Shouldn’t Be Your Insecurity
Advanced kegel: stroking with only PC muscles
Impress your lover with these oral sex moves

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

The Hashtag Activism…It Burns It!
Sex Worker Etiquette
Rant Break: SCOTUS and Hobby Lobby Rage
Subs Need Classes Too!

Erotic Fiction

A Flight Attendants Secret
Relentless
Sit
Festival car park fun
Private Performance
And The Band Played On
Consequences Part One

Blogging

A warning for erotic writers and sex bloggers
Bloggy, Soggy, and Sexy

Erotic Non-Fiction

Don’t Ever Make Me Wait Again
Words

Poetry

Satan’s String – a Lusty Limerick

Writing About Writing

Writing Erotica for Trans Readers Pt 1

The post e[Lust]#60 appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Today, 3 July, marks the second official blogiversary of Behind the Chintz Curtain. I’ve actually managed to babble smutty stuff at you all for a full two years.

Wow.

I’m not really going to say much in this post. Just thank all the awesome people who’ve supported me thus far (fellow bloggers, authors, writers, reviewers, friends, family) give you a little visual glimpse back over the past year’s worth of photographs (my favourite images taken for Molly’s Sinful Sunday – c.f. the collage at the top of this post), and leave you with the next little snippet from a story beginning I posted for last week’s Wicked Wednesday. This was the tale the majority of you wanted continued. And, of course, your wish is my command.

Hope you enjoy.

Jane

xxx

LOT – PART TWO

*For those who missed Part One, you can find it here. Simply scroll down to Story Two.

Oh, Christ, but I don’t want to go up there. Can’t think of anything more humiliating. To be stared at by all those men and then sold like a cow at a farmers’ market. Despite the pressure it puts on my windpipe, I find myself planting my feet as my handler begins to move forwards, trying to delay the inevitable, but as soon as he feels the resistance he stops and turns back towards me, his grey eyes narrowing. “Now, now. None of that, girl.”

I expect him to haul me forwards, much as the other girl’s keeper did, but it appears I have completely misjudged the man in charge of me. Before I can blink, his arm is clamped around my torso, we’re chest-to-chest, and a heavy palm is landing on the flesh of my bare bottom. The are blows strong, designed to hurt and, pinned as I am to his torso, I cannot pull away, only yelp in pain each time his hand makes contact with my flesh. On and on the spanking goes, until the cheeks of my backside feel as if they’ve been scorched beneath a hard desert sun. When he finally stops, I am crying, breathing hard against his chest, trying to get my head around the hurt and emotions roiling through me. I concentrate on sucking in air through my nose, releasing it through my mouth, and notice, bizarrely, that the shirt I’m pressed against smells of faintly of laundry detergent.

Fresh, clean and grassy.

“Ready to behave?” he says as he releases me.

His voice is gentle – completely at odds with the physical punishment he has just met out – and I find myself looking at the ground and nodding furiously, unable to meet his eyes.

“Good.” He tugs lightly on the leash. “Let’s get you up there.”

I keep my gaze fixed on the wooden floor as we move forwards, me slightly behind him, refusing to look at the audience, trying to forget that they’re there. But they begin to murmur as we emerge from the wings of the stage and, once again, it becomes impossible to avert my eyes.

Faces. So many faces. They blur, the sea of men seemingly becoming one before me. My heart is beating so fast it aches.

“Watch the steps.”

The softly spoken command has my head swinging back to the man at my side; we’re at the very centre of the stage and he is waiting patiently for me to mount the auction dais. When I don’t move, he steps closer to me and drops his mouth to my ear. “If you don’t get up there, little girl, I’ll bend you over right here so that every man in this room can see just how wet that little pussy of yours is. And then I’ll spank your ass until it’s purple.”

I recoil, his words sending a volatile cocktail of shock and horror raging through my body. “You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper softly, face flaming. “And I’m not wet.”

His mouth hardens and I notice a glint in his eye.

“Did you just challenge me?”

What?! Oh, lord. “No!” I say frantically, reaching out to touch his arm with a placating hand. “I didn’t mean it like that!” I close my fingers around his forearm.

For a second he simply stares at me and I think he’s going to let it go. But then he looks away, opens his mouth to address the room, and I know I am done for.

“Gentlemen!” His voice carries across the rumble of voices swirling around the room. He waits for them to fall silent before turning and nodding to the man with the gavel. “Auctioneer.” The man inclines his head in response. “It appears that,” he looks down at the number written in permanent marker on my left breast, “Lot 14 doesn’t know her place.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“In fact, I’m not entirely sure she is fit for sale.”

I want to hide in shame and fear as sounds of disapproval swell out from the audience.

“First,” this as he holds up a single finger to the audience, “she refused to come out onto the stage when instructed.” A second finger. “Then, she refused to climb on the block.” A third finger. “And, finally, she challenged me and denied her little cunt was wet from the spanking I just gave her.”

More disgruntled sounds from the audience.

“So, tonight, if you are all in agreement, I would like to propose an amendment to proceedings.”

An expectant silence.

“That I be allowed to purchase Lot 14, free and clear, and in return give you the opportunity to observe the corrective lesson that I intend to give her.”

He can’t be serious. He can’t be. I close my eyes and try to ignore the excited whispering that floods the room at his words.

“Does anyone object?”

A chorus of ‘nos’ hit us as the sea of men give their approval and I squeeze my eyes shut more tightly as if doing so will make them go away.

“Excellent.” My keeper’s voice holds a definite note of satisfaction and I feel his warm fingers clamp around my wrist. “You’ve just been bought and paid for, little slut.” The sound of footsteps tapping a steady beat across the wooden stage have my eyes springing open of their own volition; another guard is making his way towards us, a pair of antiquated metal shackles in one hand, a long, thin cane in the other. “Now. Let’s see about getting my money’s worth.”

The post Two: Best Sinful Sundays … and a little bit of spanking appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Image: MAKY. OREL via Wikimedia Commons

There’s nothing quite like penning the first few lines of a new story. Realising a new character, allowing them to step out of your head and onto the page; setting a scene and creating a world for them to walk about in. In fact, I think I may have a slight addiction to beginnings because I’m particularly good at writing these as opposed to middles and ends! Looking in my Drafts folder, I’m greeted by a veritable wash of documents containing snippets of text – monuments to ideas that I absolutely had to get down before they disappeared into the black hole of lost thoughts and then, after typing those critical words, promptly did nothing with.

It’s not that I consciously abandon creative flashes, rather that I an idea strikes and nine times out of ten I’m working on something else that means I can’t give it my undivided attention. Inevitably, by the time I have the breathing room to explore it, the urgent creative outpouring I initially experienced has ebbed or I’ve forgotten that I had the idea in the first place. There have been quite a few occasions when I’ve gone to open a document up, seen a file I have no recollection of creating, opened it, and gone “Oh, yeah! Why didn’t I keep going with that?”

So, I need your help, my lovelies. Below, are snippets from three stories I started writing and failed to continue with. There is one that stands out more than the others to me but I thought it would be fun to see which introduction is most appealing to you.

Given the choice, which story should I continue to write? Which would you most like to read?

EXCERPT ONE: “CLEAN”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I shriek, spinning around as I do so. Almost slip on the wet, soapy tiles.

He’s standing right next to the glass door of the shower cubicle, completely naked, a grim look on his face.

Busted.

My face flames and I drop my guilty hands to my sides, the hot shower spray washing the last of the frothy suds from my belly and between my legs, sending them swirling down the drain.

There’s nothing I can say.

We both know that I’ve broken my promise.

I’d hardly say that I’m a neat freak. I’m not the sort of girl who folds up her clothes after wearing them, who makes her bed neatly every morning before skipping merrily off to work. No, more the kind who leaves the washing in the dryer for as long as possible rather than putting it away. Leaves flowers in vases until the blooms have long dried up, withered and crumbled into dust.

In fact, I’m not really tidy at all.

But when it comes to cleanliness? Well, you know that old mantra. It really is next to Godliness in my book. Especially when it comes to my body. I shower at least twice a day, every day – and always, always after sex.

The drip and trickle of rapidly cooling semen coating my pussy and legs?

The sticky smear of my own arousal?

The urge to wash both from me pounces within seconds of him pulling out.

I know it’s irrational. I do. And he hates that I’m so eager to wash the evidence of his possession off of me, his disappointment seeping into me like a cold, dismal damp. I think we both knew that my promise to try and accept the mess of our joinings was a hollow one but to have my lack of commitment to our agreement confirmed is worse than I imagined.

His gaze bores into mine.

 “Get out of the shower. Go and lie on the bed.”

EXCERPT TWO: “DOCTOR’S ORDERS” 

Your eyes are as wide as saucers; white moons eclipsed by little planets of deep green. “I … I’m sorry?”

Mortification perfumes your voice, makes it vibrate and shiver like smoke.

Oh, this is perfect.

You heard me. No question. But on this occasion I’m happy to repeat myself – not least because I want to see the look on your face when the words finally sink in.

“You’re going to be examined,” I say blandly, careful to mask my pleasure at your reaction.

“But …” Your eyes skitter across to the shiny metal table winking beneath the bright, hanging lights and then dart quickly away, as if the sight of it burns your retinas. Even as I watch, the skin over your collarbone turns a delicious shade of strawberry. “You know I don’t like being …” You trail off again, wavering from the path of speech.

I remain silent, delighting in your struggle to find the right words. To admit the truth.  And your fear. Bless. There really is nothing more beautiful, more intoxicating, than a sub who’s just realised she’s about to be eaten by the wolf. That he’s going to sink his teeth in.

“People will see me,” you finally blurt out, your gaze locked to the floor, seemingly absorbed in watching your left foot paint awkward patterns on the wooden floor.

“They’ll see your cunt, you mean.”

The blush climbs your neck and threatens to scorch your lovely, pale cheeks.

“I can’t do it,” you say, almost defiantly, although when you finally look up, your eyes silently plead with me for mercy. Mercy we both know I’m not going to show.

For a time I simply watch you, enjoy observing the war you’re waging with yourself play out across your face: your ingrained sense of modesty versus your need to submit. To me. I know what the outcome of the battle will be, of course – knew before the skirmish was even declared – but I have no doubt your humiliation will be far, far deeper if you agree to this without any form of coercion on my part. None of this “he gave me no choice” crap.

I want to fuck both your body and your head. Invade every recess of both and turn you inside out until you’re nothing but a ball of shame and need.

You’re going to hate me for it, without a doubt. But you’re going to adore me in equal measure.

It’s just the way it is.

EXCERPT THREE: “LOT”

The auctioneer’s gavel strikes like an axe against a neck.

“Sold, for five hundred pounds, to the gentleman in blue.” Polite applause. “Congratulations on your purchase, sir.”

Don’t look, I tell myself. Don’t look. But, inevitably, I find my eyes scanning the audience of smartly dressed men, trying to spot the buyer. It isn’t difficult; he’s tipping his head slightly in acknowledgement of his purchase, a smirk on his too perfect face.  Arrogant shit. I stare at him for a few moments but the sounds of a struggle pull my attention abruptly away.

It’s the red-headed woman he’s apparently just bought. She’s being led from the auction block, resisting like crazy, by a huge blonde man.

“Please. Not him. Please, not him!”

Her feet scrabble at the floor as she tries to pull backwards but her jailor pays her absolutely no attention, remains completely unperturbed. He just marches her relentlessly forwards until she stands, trembling, before the blue-shirted man who has paid for her.

The buyer doesn’t bother to get up, doesn’t touch her. Simply regards the naked woman in front of him with a detached expression. A faint smile plays about his lips, though, and it appears that he is pleased with his purchase.

A tug at my neck startles me and I jerk in fright before remembering the collar at my throat and the leash dangling from it like a thin, black snake. I turn and glare at the man holding the latter.

“Watch it,” I growl.

He chuckles slightly. “You’re next, darlin’.” Nods his head towards the stage and the auction block at its centre. 

The post Wicked Wednesday: Beginnings appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

She’s shameless, that Savill is. No limits. No boundaries.

So in retaliation, I’m going there. I’m going to ring my own bell and promote my short story Thorn King, which, as some of you may be aware, has just been released as part of Cleis Press’ erotic fairy tale anthology A Princess Bound.

See what you made me do, Sheri? See? Post a dark erotica excerpt. How could you? (The Corvette’s in the post.)

THORN KING

Just what is this … thing, this creature?

There is no time to consider the question; my mind blanks to a sheet of white nothing as a blisteringly hot tongue begins lapping at the crimson trails smearing my leg. I groan, my head falling backwards like a heavy, dead weight. The feeling is … indescribable. Sublime. Completely foreign.

Arousing.

The idea that some strange being is tasting my blood – feeding on me – should fill me with horror. Yet, with each lick, blood rushes to my clit until it is so tight and swollen I feel as if it might burst. It’s almost as if the cut in my leg has become a soft, luscious cunt and the tip of his tongue a tiny, rapacious cock.

I stare at the umbrella of leaves above and see a heavily pregnant moon shining between the trees. It leers down, a sinister voyeur to this strange, twisted encounter. His tongue continues to stab relentlessly. To probe at my flesh until it feels as if it has invaded my body, that he’s slid inside me like a dark, dark river.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to purchase a copy:

Amazon.com

• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – paperback
• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – Kindle

Amazon.co.uk

• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – paperback
• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – Kindle

Cleis Press

• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – paperback 

Who else is joining in with this week’s Dungeon Crawl? Click on the banners below to find out.

The post Dungeon Crawl: Thorn King (A.K.A. shameless self-promotion) appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

At the risk of sounding like an over-excited two-year-old … WAHOO!!!! A Princess Bound features my original fairy story Thorn King and its inclusion in this anthology of kinky, sexy tales marks a serious writing milestone for me. Why? Because it’s the very first time a work of mine has appeared in print. I’ll just say that there may have been some very (very) bad dancing around the house when editor Kristina Wright emailed to let me know A Princess Bound had been released early by the uber-efficient Cleis and you should all be extremely grateful you didn’t have to witness it.

For those who have read the Five-minute Erotica pieces I’ve posted here on Chintz, it should come as no surprise that my contribution to A Princess Bound, Thorn King, is, well, a little bit dark and, of course, a little bit kinky. Be warned: the hero of the piece is unlike any fairy king you’ve ever met before …

Once Upon a Bedtime

 

Why is it that Goldilocks climbed into so many beds? Face it, fairy tales have always been kinky—from beautiful queens tied up in knots to the wolf that makes Red Riding Hood blush. In this distinctive collection of racy romances, Kristina Wright seduces us with tales that are playful, supernaturally sensual and very, very naughty. The beauty in “The Seven Ravens,” by Ariel Graham, uses a series of magic keys to finally unlock the door to her secret wish. A lonely maiden sneaks into the Winter Ball in Valerie Alexander’s “Mine Until Dawn,” and binds her new love in a devastatingly erotic story of dominance. A brawny beast of a man sweeps an aristocrat off her feet and right into his bed in “Black of Knight,” by Victoria Blisse. Submit to the spell of A Princess Bound.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to purchase a copy:

Amazon.com

• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – paperback

Amazon.co.uk

• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – paperback

Cleis Press

• A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – paperback 

The post Released! A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Photo courtesy of Cammies on the Floor

Welcome to Elust #57 -

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 #58? Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

I’ve Got 99 Problems

Vasectomy Blues

I’ve always wanted to call myself queer.

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Aoyama Yuki and My Very First Times

I don’t know how to be happy

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

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

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Prostitution Laundering
That Body-safe Sex Toy Could Make You Sick
“Nice Shoes. Wanna Fuck?” — On Pick Up Lines
Rape prevention
Life of a Sheltered Child: Sex Toys (Part II)
A Tour of Fucking Sculptures Sex Toy Studio
Bashing Belle Knox: Because You GET Porn
Would You Pay $133 to See Midori Eat Fruit?

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Heart of Glass
Talking BDSM: Are safewords really necessary?
45 Seconds
I want
Whispered Words
Aftercare: In Kink and Erotica
Ariel Castro: The Man in the Mirror?
We Are Ethical
Apology tokens, punishments, and forgiveness

Erotic Fiction

Very Short Stories – If We Hadn’t Had Sex
Billy
Larry Knew Better
Lasting Impressions
The Boys
Sounds of a Kitten
Chemical (se)X
Shopping Together
Enjoy Being Seduced on the South Bank
Room 6
Caught In The Act
Packing Light
For your thighs only (007 Parody)

Erotic Non-Fiction

Dental Torture
My hand around your throat
Conversations With My Owner
Cuming Without You.
On My Knees Again
It Always Starts With A Kiss
World Champion, Yes, I Can!
Omne Trium Perfectum
When Good Sex Tapes Go Bad
Submission: An Initiation (Part Four)

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Hidden No More
Female condoms are fucking awesome!
Female Ejaculation and How to Achieve It
Mommy Doesn’t Want Sex
How To Train Your Vagina
Camp Dildo
Being slut shamed made me want more sex
Don’t say my name

Blogging

“Hidden” memes
A Brief History of Sex Blogging

Writing About Writing

Openings and Grabbing Your Reader

Poetry

Sense Memory – a Lusty Limerick

The post e[lust] #57 appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Photo courtesy of Understanding Flutterby

Welcome to e[lust] - 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 e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #57? Start with the rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Trick of the Light

What Does Porn Lead To

The Posh Life of a Sex Toy Reviewer?

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Eleven Quarters

Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Sadists

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

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

Erotic Fiction

The Watchman
Short Story: Tucked Away
Property’s Progress
Glass Houses
Proud and Prejudged
You’ll Do…. Now Step Closer.
Pet Ballerina
Superotica Valentine – Day 7
Get In Me, Daddy
White Gloves

Blogging

Posting a photo a day!
How to Handle Your Junk in Public
My first trick on a corner
Mid Morning Musings ~ The Catharsis of Pain
Francesca Woodman Inspired Self Portraits
Eve’s Quandary – Blogging Between Fig Leaves
What I Be

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why 3 out of 4 young women don’t masturbate
An Open Letter To Sex Toy Manufacturers
Daily Photo – Day 1: Full Disclosure

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Fantasies, deep and dark
Fun with ropes
Where we started from
Kink from a humbler perspective
To Err Is Human, To Punish May be Advisable
Reader Q&A: How does a sub say ‘no’?
Finding Balance

Erotic Non-Fiction

Suspended
Sister, Oh Sister
My First Trick
This one’s for you
Angela’s orgasm
His Rope Show
Finger Banging With Daddy
Feeding Submission
Valentine’s Day Diary
Balance at the Boat Launch
Rope, Rhino Cock, and a Balancing Act
Exquisite

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Monogamous, Kinky Couple-Friends
As Lust Fades
A discussion with Mom
When Did You Realize You Were Dominant?
How to Fake an Orgasm
How To Increase Your Libido Without Cialis

Writing About Writing

Talking Dirty
Fiction! Thank You!

Poetry

I’m Willing To Earn The Right
Bad habits

The post e[lust] #56 appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

The idea of burning a book – any book – makes me physically cringe. And if we’re talking obscenity? Well, the below image pretty much sums it up for me.

Want to see who else is sinning (in no doubt far more sexy ways!)? Click on the banner below to find out.

The post Sinful Sunday: Obscenity appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

*Please note that the below review does contain spoilers pertaining to books one and two in the Pierced Hearts series. You can find our previous reviews for Take Me, Break Me and Bind and Keep Me here and here.

MICHAEL’S TAKE

Title: Make Me Yours Evermore
Author: Cari Silverwood
Publisher: Cari Silverwood
ISBN: 9781311900234

Okay, in Take Me, Break Me, we meet Jodie and Klaus when she comes up with a money-making scheme: Have Klaus hold her captive for a month, film the whole thing, and release it to fame and fortune. In the end, things go a bit awry but they achieve a kind of working balance in their relationship.

Skip ahead a year and we get to Bind and Keep Me. When Jodie attends a wild party and dies, Klaus kills the man responsible. Only Jodie isn’t dead. And rather than either hope the police don’t figure out what happened or even try to explain what happened, Klaus comes up with a unique solution: kidnap the one witness who can expose his secret. And hold her captive for the rest of their lives. Perhaps not the greatest plan ever, but it has worked so far. Mostly.

Which brings us up to Make Me Yours Evermore. One of the mostly wrinkles is that Kat has figured out something weird is going on. We actually met Kat at the end of the TMBM. As a character, she was kind of annoying. The other characters thought so too. She still doesn’t know precisely what is going on, but she is going to find out. Only Chris, Klaus’ business partner, is determined to stop her. Because it turns out that Chris has always had a secret fantasy: To kidnap someone and hold her captive for the rest of their lives. And so to help out Klaus, Chris volunteers to do that to Kat.

Oh, and just for fun he brings along his groupie. Years ago, Chris saved Andreas from a shark attack. So anything Chris wants to do is okay by him. All I can say is I am glad that Chris wasn’t into unleashing global thermonuclear war. And actually, it turns out that Andreas has a secret fantasy as well. You guessed it? To hold a woman captive for the rest of her life. I am sensing a theme.

So, anyway, if you aren’t in love with Chris already, he also has a somewhat less-pleasant secret. For years, Chris has been doing the books for a criminal enterprise – something that apparently our boy Klaus didn’t even know about. And just what sort of criminal enterprise? Why, human trafficking, of course. And so his buddies have set him up with a place where he can unleash his Big Bad Dom Self and learn wayward little Kat who her True Master is. He is quite confident that within a month he can have her molded into the submissive little slave girl of his dreams.

Around this point I was thinking if this was an episode of an American TV show, Kat would manipulate Chris and Andreas into a jealous rage over who would possess her and end up stepping over their dead bodies as she walked off into the sunset at the end. Fortunately, though, while there is an element of that, Cari came up with something far more original.

I don’t really want to spoil the latter part because honestly I didn’t really see it coming. What I will say is that going into this sort of novel I am always curious about one thing: Can the captor actually “break” his victim and do it for me in a believable way? I found the ending believable but I think Chris may not have achieved the result he was looking for.

Because, really, at the end of the last novel there was one person who could be Klaus’ undoing. At the beginning of this one, we were up to two. Now we actually have five. All it will take is just one Charles Ramsey and a whole lot of people are going to jail.

This is one series where just when you think you have an idea where things are going, things head off on a tangent. I am very curious to see where we go next but, as I said at the end of Bind and Keep Me, I am making no predictions.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to purchase a copy.

Amazon.co.uk

• Make Me Yours Evermore – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Make Me Yours Evermore – Kindle

*Please note that a copy of Make Me Yours Evermore was provided free of charge by the author in exchange for a fair review.

The post Make Me Yours Evermore, Part Deux: The Michael Chronicles appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Anyway, brave lady that she is, Tamsin chose to include a snippet from an unpublished story of mine, Dark, in her line-up. Centred around erotic humiliation, it’s a tale I’ve had kicking about on my hard drive for a while now (I’m hoping to find a home for it in an anthology and am thus holding onto the full version with a death grip) but, as we head towards Valentine’s Day, I thought you were all deserving of a smutty little morsel to get you past the cheesy hearts and flowers currently coming at us from all sides. And it’s been a while since I posted some of my own stuff on Chintz.

I hope you enjoy this little taster of Dark; I’ll let you know if and when it finds a place beyond my laptop so that you can read it in its entirety.

Jane
xxx

PS – Tamsin’s up to yet more mischief with Superotica Valentine posts; she’s currently on Day 9, so hurry on over and catch your smutty selves up!

DARK

‘Give me a number.’

It takes me a moment to work out what you mean. My normally agile brain is completely sodden, struck dumb beneath a chaotic waterfall of thoughts.

You want to know if I’m okay. To gauge if this – whatever this is – is too much.

My lips part, a number that I know will bring everything to a halt perched like fluttering bird on the tip of my tongue. But then I press them together again, caging it in. Forcing myself to think before I let it fly free.

Am I scared?

Yes. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. And like most sane people, I fear the unknown. This you, the you that’s managed to surprise me, is someone I’ve not met before. At least, not in a way that’s made such an impression. I think he frightens me a little. But … I’m not entirely sure I dislike the feeling. Really, it all comes down to whether I trust you. Whether I believe you’ll stop whatever it is you’re doing if it transcends beyond what I can bear. Do I believe that?

That answer is easy.

Yes. Absolutely.

So what is the number, then? I’m not hurting. I know you’re here with me, even if I can’t touch you. But I am further from my comfort zone than I can remember being for some time. Amazing, the games your mind can play with you.

Think, think …

A different bird flies free of my mouth, ghosting across the air between us.

‘Six,’ I hear myself croak. ‘Six.’

‘Hmmph.’ A satisfied grunt. Has my answer pleased you? Was it what you were expecting? I can’t see your face, so I have no idea.

‘Position her, please.’

What?! What do you mean ‘position me’? Who are you talking to?

Even as I ask myself these questions, prepare to voice them to you aloud, hands, firm but gentle, wrap around my upper arms and press into the curve beneath my bottom, pulling me backwards and down. I yelp in fright and kick my legs in panic – partly because the hands are not yours and partly because I don’t want to fall – but then I feel something firm meet my upper thighs and I steady. It feels like the hard edge of table. I’m dragged backwards over its surface until the backs of my knees hit the edge, and then someone cups the back of my head before pressing their palm against my sternum.

The unspoken command is unmistakable. Lie down.

I do.

The clinical detachment in your voice as you instruct an unknown someone to raise my dress and lift me feet onto the table is mortifying. Yet even as I feel fingers circling first my left ankle, then my right, the skin of my soles pressing into the smooth wood, I feel something else.

Humiliation. And it is making me wet.

Worse, exposed in this way, my legs crooked and spread, I know you can see that shameful truth. As can whoever else is with you.

A laugh. Not yours. ‘Quite the little whore, isn’t she?’

Oh, god. My skin tightens and burns with embarrassment, even as a sly feeling of pleasure at the base assessment spreads insidiously through my chest.

There is a smile in your voice as you answer, ‘Yes. She is.’

‘Pretty cunt, too.’ Another man’s voice this time, casually observant, as if he were discussing nothing more interesting than the weather.

‘It is a rather lovely pink. Especially when it’s wet like this.’

The rattle of ice in a glass, as if someone has tipped a drink to their lips.

‘Perhaps you’d like a closer look?’

‘Please.’

The burn of embarrassment turns into a prickling inferno. I suspect I know what you’re going to say next.

………………..

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