Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Control the day, surrender the night.
A collection of explicit erotica about the thrill of power games, erotic control and submitting to the passions of a lover.
The pleasure of surrendering to the will of another, or others, is unique. But who is really in control and who calls the shots? From the head games to the heart flutters and the shivers of pleasure on your skin, this collection of explicit erotica explores the fantasies and experience of female sexual submission.
Whenever Cate is summoned to her boss's office, the door remains closed for a very good reason...
The rules are very explicit whenever Matilda visits the gentleman of the Windsor Club...
At the manor, the thrill for Saskia is a rare kind of obedience...
BUY NOW FROM MISCHIEF BOOKS
CONTENTS INCLUDE EXQUISITE ENTRIES FROM
Rose de Fer
and Chrissie Bentley... and here's a tiny excerpt from A DIFFERENT KIND OF TENSION
My hands pulled at the cuffs; if I was going to do this, I’d like do it properly. But they remained trapped, and the movement only alerted Terry. “Oh no, you’re here until I’m finished with you,” he said; then, withdrawing himself from my still stubbornly tightened mouth with a light plop, he commanded, “wider. Open it wider.”
I shivered a little… I don’t usually get off with a man who plays the master, but Terry did have me at a disadvantage. I obeyed and, for a moment my jaw just hung, as he held his rod just an inch or so away, allowing my nostrils to absorb his scent. Instinctively, I craned my head forward, to take him into my mouth again… he certainly knew how to play this game, I thought, and I felt my own loins quiver warmly as he began to push himself forward, forcing my mouth even wider, scraping against my teeth, pushing my tongue to one side. He wasn’t huge, probably no more than five inches, but he had a lot of circumference, a fat, meaty roll of hardness that was bumping against the very back of my mouth. “Now I’m going to fuck you properly,” he said. “Like I should have done before. ” And, with slow, methodical strokes, he began to do just that, his eyes closed in rapture as he slipped in and out of my mouth.
His hands were caressing his balls; with every thrust, his sac slapped against my chin, reinforcing in my mind the position I was in, at the same time as I felt myself pulsing in time to his movements, finding an excitement in my predicament that even my occasional bondage fantasies had never aroused. If he’d only let me speak for a moment, I thought, I’d tell him what I want him to do… reach behind to touch me, finger me, fist me, anything. And then I heard a door open, footsteps, another voice… and the pulse became a galvanic throbbing that was quaking through my entire body.
“Who’s your friend?” It was a woman… I struggled to place the voice. It was Sara, the fiancé who’d fled, the heartless harpy who broke his heart…. What the hell was going on here? For a moment I imagined myself being caught in the middle of some knockdown fight between two bitter ex-lovers… a trophy for one to bait the other one with. But that was before Terry answered her.
“You know who it is. One of those sluts from your whorehouse downtown.”
She leaned over to look at me, her eyes flashing a spark of recognition, but that was all – we’d never been friends, just workmates; I doubted whether she even knew my name. Instead, she went along with what was clearly Terry’s fantasy, the embittered whoremaster making free with a rival Madame’s merchandise. “Oh, and one of my favorites as well,” she pouted. “Please don’t scar her pretty face, I won’t earn half as much from her ass if you do.”
Posted by Jenny Swallows at 12:41 AM