Release Blitz ~ Sexy Just Got Kinky: Kinks to Make you Think by The Brit Babes (@8britbabes) (@CW1985)



Tantalise your dark side with kinks to make you think. From lovers behind bars to lone ladies behind the lens—fisticuffs and feathers, lilos and lube, scissors and sticks, whips, canes and bondage, there’s sure to be a kink within these pages to whet your appetite, tickle your fancies and heat up cold nights.

Featuring stories by Lexie Bay, Victoria Blisse, Marissa Farrar, Lucy Felthouse, K D Grace, Lily Harlem, Kay Jaybee and Tabitha Rayne.

Available from:


All Romance eBooks:

Barnes & Noble:


More buy links (including print):


Excerpt from The Anonymous Life by Marissa Farrar

It started with a photograph.

A single, crazy, adrenaline-filled moment of madness.

I’d had enough of being ignored, of being the maid, the chef, the chauffeur to my unappreciative family. I dreamed of the days when men used to drop to their knees before me in the streets. They’d beg to buy me drinks, just to get me to spend a little time in their company, and, if they were lucky, snatch a kiss and take me home to their bed. Now, I was invisible. A mother, a wife, a housekeeper. I longed to be seen as something sexual again, and so I took the photo.

I made sure not to include my face. I didn’t want to be identified. Instead, I held the camera on my phone with one hand and cupped my breasts with the other, squeezing them together so the tops lifted and rounded in globes. My nipples peeped between my fingers, crinkled and hard. The lighting wasn’t perfect, and I had no idea what filters to use, but that didn’t matter.

I posted it online.

It was on one of the popular social media sites, known more for its raunchy posts than some of the others. I’d used the site to watch porno GIFs often enough, but I’d never had the guts to comment or post something of my own.

Until now.

I gave myself an online name—theanonymouslife. All one word.

It was only a single picture, but already my emotions surged up inside me, making me feel alive—a mixture of excitement and guilt, and horniness.

Already, I was addicted.

I stayed on the computer, checking for comments and reblogs. People liked my tits, it seemed. More than my husband, who hadn’t laid a finger on me in forever. There were a couple of negative notes, but I brushed over them in favour of the positive ones. Damn trolls were everywhere.

I don’t know why I got such a thrill from posting my picture online, or why I’d even felt the need to do it at all. Maybe there was anger in me, a resentfulness I couldn’t shift, and posting the photo felt a little bit like revenge. Or rebellion. I resented my husband for plunging me into a life of celibacy that I’d never asked for. I’d always been a sexual person, and still was, but now sex was denied to me. My children stole my body away, though they never asked to do that, and I would never hold them responsible. I love my kids. They are the one thing that keeps me walking the straight and narrow when all I want to do is run, screaming, throwing off my clothes and frustrations as I do so. I dream of a future alone, where I can pick and choose men as I please, allow them in my life for a short while, only to continue alone once more. Sometimes now, I feel like I barely have enough time to have a thought to myself without being interrupted. I can feel the years slipping away, knowing I’ll never get them back. I’m only in my early thirties—too young to be this dried up person already—and the thought of the rest of my life as a sexless woman terrifies me. I love my husband, I do, but he doesn’t seem to have any interest in me anymore. He’s always too tired from a long day at work. I don’t know if he has no interest in sex in general or if it’s just me that no longer excites him. I can’t say I blame him. After seeing the births of two babies, I’m not sure I’d excite me either. But I can’t bring myself to break up our home, can’t stand the thought of the hurt in our children’s eyes if we separated. Plus, he’s a good guy. I like his company, most of the time. We’re just missing that important element.

So, instead of dealing with the real problem at hand, I took the photograph.

It was harmless. I wasn’t hurting anyone. But quickly I discovered one picture was not enough.


About The Brit Babes:

So who are the Brit Babes? We are eight UK based authors who spend our days writing steamy tales of love and lust. Ranging from sweetly vanilla to so-hot-it-will-blow-your-mind, we aim to please in every literary fantasy department. Our heroes are strong, determined and soul-achingly divine and our heroines sassy, sexy and not afraid to grab what they want. Passion and pleasure are the name of the game, romance and raunch a top priority and it all comes with a delightful sprinkle of kink.

With a whole host of awards, bestsellers and accolades between us, we just know you’ll find something to keep you turning the pages and squirming on your seat. Visit the Brit Babes’ home on the web which acts as a library for the hundreds of books published by us and hosts special guests every Monday. You’ll find links there to our FREE anthology too. Tell your friends, spread the word, because one thing you can be sure of, is when the Brit Babes arrive, sexy has arrived!







Out Now! – The Collector by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee) #erotica #ku #kindleunlimited (@cw1985)


Re-edited, with a brand new cover, and two HOT new stories, Kay Jaybee’s first solo work of erotica is being re-released for a new generation of sexy story lovers!

Alongside each story, there is a short introduction explaining exactly how “the collector” came across the tale in the first place.



Gathering salaciously erotic stories against an everyday backdrop of bus trips, train journeys, coffee shops, and restaurants, The Collector documents a wide variety of sexual encounters as she travels Great Britain.

The Collector’s research takes her into every arena of the erotic experience, from love, lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond.

Are you brave enough to see if it was your supposedly private conversation she overheard – and then wrote down?


Buy The Collector now, or read as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription:


Extract from The Scottish Fantasy

(One of two new stories added into this new addition of The Collector)

Stacie gasped as the door opened. The dark shine to the man’s slate eyes as he regarded her and her friend Kate was in danger of taking Stacie’s breath away, and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

Tall, broad, with a tanned face and short spiked hair, a hint of stubble shadowed his square chin. Obviously surprised to see two young women walking through the woods so late on a winter’s afternoon, the ranger ushered them inside his wooden hut.

Introducing himself as Rob—Like Rob Roy! Stacie’s inner voice shouted at her. How perfect is that!—he looked at them enquiringly, ‘I dunna ken what you’re doin’ here, hens.’

Stacie’s brow furrowed. She’d thought that the Scottish spoke English.

Kate laughed as she saw her friend’s confused expression. ‘He means he doesn’t understand what we want, honey. “Dunna ken” means “don’t know” and “hen” is the local term for girl.’  Turning toward the ranger, Kate smiled. ‘This is Stacie, and I’m Kate. Stacie hasn’t got her ear geared into the local accent yet; she’s American.’

‘I guess that means an American accent.’ The ranger spoke so softly, Stacie felt herself melting on the spot. ‘I rather like those.’

Ignoring her friend, whose eyes were on stalks, leaving her in no doubt that Stacie was on an internal lust trip, Kate said, ‘We’re really sorry to bother you so late, but could you tell us where we are? We seem to be on a much longer trail than we intended to be, and we’ve lost the track.’

Rob’s dark eyes bored into her as she spoke. Kate couldn’t decide if their presence mildly amused him, or if he was merely tolerating the interruption to his work.

‘We’ve run out of water as well. Could we fill up our bottles here, please?’

‘It’s a good job you stopped, hen.’ The ranger pulled a map off his cluttered desk and pointed a thick finger at a red dotted line. ‘You’re here, on the all day walk. It’s called that for sound reasons.’

Lost in an erotic daydream, Stacie wasn’t listening to a word he said, just to the sound of his voice; the beautiful, gentle burr of his accent. She judged it fitted neatly half way between Ewan McGregor and Sean Connery.

When Kate had invited her friend over from the States for a couple of weeks exploring the Grampians of Scotland, Stacie had been thrilled. Not only could she catch up with her gorgeous friend and occasional lover, she could visit an area of the world that had always held a fantasy for her. Kilts, burly men in tight white vests, cabers being tossed, heather, whiskey, and mountains topped with snow.

The heather and mountains were a reality sure enough, as were the late night tots of warming whiskey she’d shared with Kate as they snuggled up together in the king-sized bed their Deeside hotel room provided. But until now, in this ranger’s office, hidden away in the woods near the flooded caves of Burn O’Vat, Stacie hadn’t seen anyone who even came close to the Celtic man of her late night fantasies.

Stacie felt mesmerised by the ranger. Despite the coldness of the late winter air he wore no coat, and his green sweater sleeves were rolled back to show arms honed by hard work. Forget kilts, this was as close to perfection as Stacie’s Scottish fantasy was ever going to get.

‘I’ll fill your bottles right enough, but if you’ll heed my advice, you’ll go back on the route you came. Far quicker and safer. It’ll be dark in about two hours.’

‘Thanks, I think we’ll do that.’ Kate watched as he took their empty water bottles over to his sink. His back view was as stunning as his front. The goldfish expression on Stacie’s face told her girlfriend that she was mentally undressing him, and Kate began to do the same.  Well aware that Stacie had serious fantasy issues where Scottish men were concerned, Kate wondered just how turned on her friend was. Did she have damp knickers? Were her nipples hard?

As Kate’s thoughts rambled, her own arousal began to tweak up a notch. Perhaps… She took a deep breath. Well, why not?

‘It must be lonely here, on your own all day.’ Kate knew the line was a bit lame, but she didn’t care. A sideways glance at Stacie showed that her lover had understood her intentions, and approved.

Rob didn’t look round. He didn’t need to. He could sense the two sets of eyes on his back; they were almost scorching him. Taking his time to fill the second bottle, the ranger thought the situation through.

Two of them, both hot totty. One a blonde, one a redhead. One English. One American. A tasty combination. Their bulky winter coats, sensible walking trousers and boots didn’t give much away, but he was willing to bet that once all the layers were off, they would be a sight to behold. He could be wrong, he supposed, but maybe…

Rob replied to Kate’s question. ‘I like it well enough, hen. I ken it’s quiet, but I like peace and quiet.’

‘So, you don’t get… lonely, then?’ Kate knew she was being blatant, but she didn’t care. If she could pull this off, it would be the perfect holiday present for her friend. Stacie, her mouth dry with anticipation, stepped forward. Pulling off her gloves to reveal pale hands with violently clashing purple nail-varnished tips, she took the full bottles from Rob’s hands. Making certain her fingers brushed his as she did so.

‘Thank you,’ Stacie purred as she passed one of the bottles to her partner. The tacit standoff that followed as tension rippled through the small office room-cum-workshop was eventually broken by Rob.

‘Would you lassies like something to warm you up before you go?’  His sentence, delivered in a deadpan tone, could have been suggesting something as mundane as sharing of a mug of hot chocolate, but his sparkling eyes hinted at so much more.

Stacie’s pulse quickened as Kate casually replied, ‘Well, if it’s not too much trouble, that would be lovely.’ Another normal sentence, but packed with enough eyelash-fluttering that she might as well have screamed out ‘Fuck us now!’

‘I was about to light the fire.’ Rob knelt at a small grate, already neatly piled with kindling. ‘Perhaps you’d like to lose your jackets for a while. When this takes, this place gets pretty hot.’

The girls’ eyes were drawn to the hopping, spluttering flames. They threw their coats over their backpacks, which they’d already dumped by the front door.

Taking his time with the fire, the ranger didn’t stir from where he crouched until it had taken to his satisfaction, and was smoking nicely up the chimney. Then, with a measured movement, he stood and faced his guests, who with unspoken agreement had divested themselves of far more than just their coats. Somehow Rob managed to keep his face passive as his eyes travelled from the top of each girl’s head down to their toes.

They stood naked. Holding hands. So, lovers in their own right, then. Nice. He smiled. It had been over fifteen years since he’d been with two women at the same time. A memory that kept him warm during the dark winter days and nights as he guarded the woodland and its wildlife.

Deciding against comment, Rob took a silent moment to choose which girl he’d treat rough and which one he’d simply treat. Then, with a pace that neither girl would have associated with the man whose previous movements had been so controlled and steady, he stripped…

Buy The Collector now, or read as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription:


Kay - tantusBio

For over a decade Kay Jaybee has lived a nomadic existence across the British Isles, collecting stories as she travels.

Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO

Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.

Kay Jaybee wrote The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite 2011-14), The New Room, (Xcite, 2015), The Voyeur, (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress, 2013.

Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at

You can follow Kay on –


Facebook –


Brit Babes Site-

Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane –




Out Now – Sexy Just Got Rich: Brit Babes Do Billionaires @8britbabes #erotica #romance #bdsm #billionaire


sexyjustgotrich**Available at an introductory price of just $0.99/99p for a limited time!**

Billionaires have it all but that doesn’t mean they don’t have to work hard to get what their hearts desire. In this brand new anthology of erotic BDSM stories the Brit Babes offer heroes and heroines who aren’t shy about taking what they want. From farmyards to luxury penthouses, wealth is all about sating needs, connecting souls and taking pleasure to new highs. Whether you’re looking for a coffee break read or something longer to curl up in bed with, you’ll find something to suit your needs in Sexy Just Got Rich.

Containing stories from Lexie Bay, Victoria Blisse, Natalie Dae, Harlem Dae, Lucy Felthouse, K D Grace, Lily Harlem, Kay Jaybee and Tabitha Rayne.

Available from:
Amazon UK:

Amazon US:

All Romance eBooks:

Barnes & Noble:




Heart pounding and palms clammy, Catriona forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and walked into the bookshop. It was bedlam. She’d never seen a bookshop so busy in her life.

She paused just inside the door. What the fuck was she doing? If someone saw her, recognised her—

She shook her head sharply and clenched her fists until her fingernails dug into her flesh, the nipping pain bringing her back to her senses.

No one would recognise her, she reminded herself, because no one knew who she was. Well, people knew who she was—but not in relation to the reason she was here.

Taking a deep breath and attempting to behave like a normal person, she continued through the shop, trying to figure out where she needed to be. Not that she even needed to be here at all. It was insanity that had drawn her out of her Thames-side apartment and into the bowels of the Tube, and finally into the huge Piccadilly bookstore.

What else but insanity would make a person head into central London to buy a copy of a book on the same day it came out? Especially when one already had a large box of copies of said book stuffed into the bottom of one’s wardrobe. Complimentary author copies, according to the note from the publisher.

Maybe it was curiosity, she thought, as she joined the back of the queue snaking across the ground floor of the shop. Nobody nearby was holding a copy of the book yet, so she assumed that somewhere between here and the till there was a stack of the paperbacks, ready to be picked up and paid for. And presumably read. Christ.

Surreptitiously, Catriona pinched the back of her hand. Wincing, she figured she had to get her head around this situation, and fast. It was only going to get bigger and crazier—or so the publisher’s marketing team, a bunch of young, attractive and scarily glamorous people, had told her.

She’d already seen plenty of evidence of their expenditure on the way over—billboards, bus shelters, ads on the Underground; all displaying huge versions of her book cover, proclaiming it a bestseller, quoting stellar reviews and even lauding it “the next big thing” and “the next Fifty Shades of Grey.” One strap line even said “Who needs Christian Grey when you’ve got Eliza Dickinson?”

It was the fact that her book had even been compared to the first big thing that she couldn’t quite grasp.

The Fifty Shades phenomenon had spawned merchandise, sex toys and even a film. But it was just a one-off, wasn’t it? Something that couldn’t be replicated, shouldn’t be replicated.

Catriona certainly hadn’t set out to write a book to appeal to the same readership. All she’d done was take out her real life frustrations—both sexual and otherwise—on the keyboard of her laptop. The rest had simply been a freak of nature.

How could it appeal to the same readership, anyway? Her characters were the complete opposite of E.L. James’—her lead female, Eliza, was a dominatrix, and Leon her willing sub. Or he was by the end of the book, anyway.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Her book was out, today, and what happened next was completely out of her hands. She should just relax and go with the flow. Though she still couldn’t get over the fact that people were not only buying her book—they were queuing to buy it. Patiently, too, despite the glacial speed at which they were moving forward. Did they only have one till open, or something?

People had joined the line behind her as she’d been ruminating, and she shuffled around slightly so she could see how many more were waiting. Shit—there were loads! She couldn’t even see the end of the queue.

Her surprise must have shown on her face, because the man behind her let out a chuckle. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” he said. “All these people waiting to buy a book when we could have purchased online—probably cheaper—and had it delivered directly to our doors. Or in a single click, have it appear on our eReaders.”

Catriona hadn’t even thought of that. So, not only were people here, in the bookstore—and presumably stores all over the country, too—they were buying online, loading up eReaders… all for her little book!


About The Brit Babes:

The Brit Babes are eight British erotica writers coming together to bring you the hottest romance to satisfy your cravings. So go on, indulge yourself and explore your kinky side!

Find out more:




Knowing Her Place- Quite a Journey by Kay Jaybee #BlogTour #Erotic @Kay_Jaybee

Per Sub 3

Many thanks for letting me stop by on the third day of my blog tour celebrating the release of my brand new novel, Knowing Her Place.

The third and final part of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, Knowing Her Place, takes the newly trained submissive, Miss Jess Sanders, on the most demanding of her adventures so far…



With her head full of unanswered questions, exhausted from her fairytale experience at the hands of Dr Ewen, Lady Tia, and the staff of the adult entertainment service provided by The Retreat, Jess Sanders is desperate to leave Scotland, and return to her usual submissive position at the exclusive Fables Hotel in Oxford.

Having been thwarted in his plans to keep Jess at The Retreat permanently, its owner David Proctor isn’t willing to let Jess go back to her dominatrix, Miss Sarah, and her employer, Mrs Peters, without sending her on one final mission. Only if she succeeds in her task, will Proctor remove the collar of servitude he has locked around Jess’s neck.

With a list of five unknown addresses in her hand, Jess Sanders is placed in a car and driven from The Retreat towards England. With no idea what or who awaits her at the first stop, all Jess can hope for is that her journey will eventually take her back to where she belongs.

To the Fables Hotel, where Jess Sanders truly knows her place.


Knowing Her Place200In both the first and second books of the trilogy (The Perfect Submissive and The Retreat), the highly kinky BDSM styled tasks that have confronted Jess all took place in one location- within the Fables Hotel in Book 1, and at The Retreat, a Scottish adult entertainment resort, in Book 2. In Knowing Her Place however, Jess finds herself sent on a journey that takes her to five very different locations across the country, to pay off some debts for David Proctor- a man who wants to take her away from her current mistress. Mrs Peters, and keep her for himself.

Only if Jess succeeds in satisfying every person she encounters on her travels, will she have any chance of being allowed to return to her friends and colleagues at the Fables hotel, and have the hated collar Proctor has placed around her neck removed. The first location on Jess’s list of places to visit, an office block in Berwick, contains a man who is very different from the person she’d imagined him to be…

…‘I hadn’t expected the collar.’

Jess jumped as a gravelly male voice echoed through the open space. She twisted her head from side to side, but couldn’t see anyone. The sound could have come from the left, but the reception’s acoustics were disorientating.

‘Hello?’ Jess felt a patina of perspiration bloom up the back of her neck.

The voice rebounded around the room for a second time. ‘Tell me why you’re wearing it.’

Swallowing carefully, Jess clenched her knees and addressed the empty air.

‘Mr David Proctor placed it there. He is punishing me for something I didn’t do, and I don’t understand. He says he’ll take it off if I perform well for you and four other people on a list he’s given me.’

‘You don’t sound convinced he’ll keep his word.’

Cautiously, Jess said, ‘I have a mistress of my own. I can’t see her being pleased that Proctor has put his mark on me, especially as he has a submissive of his own, who actually wants this collar.’

The man gave a derisive snort. ‘That sounds like Proctor all right. Always a scheme. Always a back-up plan for security. He never does anyone a favour unless it benefits him in some way.’

Jess frowned. This unseen man seemed to be airing his thoughts rather than talking to her. And she could not see how her being here could benefit Proctor. He wasn’t even there to check up on her, and even if she did whatever the people she was to meet wanted, there was nothing to make them tell him the truth when he enquired about her performance. They could easily lie, and keep her shackled in Proctor’s service, rather than secure her release.

As if reading her mind, the man said, ‘If Proctor has offered you the chance to escape, it will be because he has no choice in the matter. But while he’s about it, I have no doubt he’ll get you to pay off every debt he can.’

No choice? Jess supposed he meant Proctor didn’t want to incur the wrath of Mrs Peters more than he must have done already. Miss Sarah must be back at Fables by now – if that was where she had really been sent. Mrs Peters would be furious. At least, Jess hoped she was furious. But to pay off Proctor’s debts? That idea was both unappealing and rang horribly true.

‘Please, sir, may I ask; what debt does David owe you?’

‘You may ask, but I don’t think I’ll answer. David may not want you to know, and he is not a man I intend to annoy. I might not be chairman of the board, but I like my work, and Mr Proctor has always had cause to trust my digression. I do not intend to jeopardise that trust.’

Footsteps rang across the floor, making Jess think her unseen companion must be wearing steel-capped boots; safety shoes, perhaps? This didn’t ring true with the image that had been forming in her head of a smart-suited businessman, slightly overweight and advancing in years. A financier, maybe, who’d helped David escape from some economically uncomfortable issue, and now expected payback.

The force of the man’s smile reached Jess before the shock of his mouth-wateringly fit physique, and his evidently menial position within the company, had computed within her brain.

Striding across the reception as if he owned it, he held up his hand to indicate that Jess should remain seated, his eyes laughing at her surprised expression.

‘You were expecting a businessman, not a humble security guard.’

He didn’t sound at all humble. He did, however, look incredibly handsome. Standing in his black and grey uniform, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing the hint of a tattoo on each biceps, his rang with confidence. His military-styled, cropped hair was free from the peaked hat that he held in his right hand, and his eyes shone a brilliant shade of caramel.

In three more steps, he stood behind the chair in which Jess sat, and his calloused workman’s hands began to stroke her hair. ‘David knows me well. I’ve always had a thing about redheads.’

Jess said nothing. Her chest felt tight. Her pussy was damp with anticipation. She had no idea what was expected of her here, but knew it would have everything to do with the fact she was a submissive, and nothing to do with her personal feelings.

Swivelling the chair so that Jess was looking him directly in the chest, the security guard cupped her chin gently but firmly, and tilted her face upward. There was a prolonged minute of quiet as he studied her face closely. His eyes took in every centimetre of her cheekbones, every line, every blemish, until his scrutiny settled on Jess’s sea-green eyes, and stayed there.

‘And your name is?’

Jess blinked. Proctor hadn’t even told this man her name. Had he told him anything about her at all? ‘Jess Sanders, sir.’

‘Thank you for the “sir”, Jess, but you can call me Shaun.’

‘Thank you, Shaun.’ As she spoke, Jess became increasingly conscious of the feel of the man’s cool fingers. The lightness of touch was a surprise from such big hands, and each time he stroked a section of her hair, a trickle of electricity worked its way from her scalp to her belly. ‘May I ask another question?’

‘As long as it isn’t about the favour I did for David, then you can.’

‘Has David told you where I am from and, more importantly, where I am going next?’

The digits of Shaun’s right hand were joined by those of his left, as he placed his cap on the desk, and began to massage Jess’s head as if she was having an expensive beauty treatment.

A sigh escaped her lips.


‘Very. Thank you.’

Shock shot through her frame, and immediately her body tensed. What the hell was she doing? She knew how dangerous it would be to relax and allow herself to feel comfortable at any stage in Proctor’s series of tasks, let alone before she knew what this particular challenge was to be.

‘And yet your shoulders have just knotted, and you are preventing yourself from letting go?’

Jess didn’t know how to respond. She felt more out of her depth than if she’d been tied to the desk and beaten with the bunch of flowers so tastefully arranged in the vase to her left-hand side.

‘I am not Proctor. Nor am I Mrs Peters. Yes, I have been informed of your past, and I know where you are to visit next – although not your destination after that. I do not expect you to say “please, sir”, or beg, or hold back from answering questions.’

Jess had been prepared for hell, and what she was getting was a head massage and the information that she was this man’s equal. The situation didn’t ring true. She couldn’t imagine for a minute David would send her somewhere that wouldn’t test her to the limit.

Taking his fingers slowly from her teased-out hair, Shaun held out a hand. ‘Come with me please, Miss Jess Sanders, we have little time, and looking at you, I can see how foolish I would be to waste it.’

Jess stood. She tried not to feel unsettled by his flattery as she reached down for her holdall.

‘Here, let me do that for you.’

Having passed Shaun her meagre belongings, Jess followed where he led. The palm wrapped around her hand was more comforting than she was used to. She realised with a jolt that the simple act of him holding her hand was freaking her out further.

She knew her self-control drew its strength from her apprehension, from wondering if she’d be able to take what was being dished out to her if it was done with consideration; but it was still disconcerting. What the hell’s happened to me since I joined Fables, she wondered. Why can’t I just enjoy something as normal as holding hands with a person who is about to fuck me?

Jess’s pointless self-analysis got no further as they entered a storeroom, and the familiar frisson of fear, accompanied by a sense of relief she didn’t want to think about, hit her just as Shaun dropped her hand like a stone.

Everything about the security guard altered in an instant. As he threw her holdall roughly into a corner, Jess felt as if she was looking at a different person – a mirror image, a dangerous reflection of the man she’d been with on the other side of the threshold.

‘You didn’t honestly think David would send you to someone without an unusual fantasy to fulfil, did you?’

The kindness in Shaun’s eyes had been replaced by something flint-like. Jess was reminded of some gangster film she’d seen years ago, where the bad guys had been so lovely, so caring – right up until the moment they decided to blow your head off with a sawn-off shotgun.

She could easily imagine this man as a gangster. He was fit; he walked with a swagger, oozing charm and confidence. He was almost a walking cliché. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She’d been so relieved not to be faced with an obese, sweaty accountant that she hadn’t seen what was right before her. Too much charm. Too much “nice”…


Although each of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy novels can be read on their own, you’ll get far more out of Jess’s adventure if you follow them from the beginning. You can buy all the novels from Amazon, and all good book and e-book retailers.

The Perfect Submissive

Amazon UK

Amazon US

The Retreat

Amazon UK

Knowing Her Place

Amazon UK



It’s been lovely visiting today!!

Happy reading,

Kay xx

Kay Jaybee wrote The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, kayjaybeeKnowing Her Place, Xcite, 2012-14), and the novels Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), and The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), (Xcite 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies Christmas Kink, (KDP, 2013), The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 80 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.

Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at

You can follow Kay on –


Facebook –


Brit Babes Site-

Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane –