Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Please welcome Kay Jaybee

I am so thrilled that the awesome Kay Jaybee has dropped by to share some seriously sexy excerpts with us today. Please join me in giving her a very warm welcome.

Sourcing the Saucy Bits
By Kay Jaybee

When the lovely Lily asked me to come and guest on her website today I was absolutely delighted- “Choose the hottest scenes from your work to share with us” said Lily- I jumped at her offer.

I’ve never looked at my work in a scene by scene way before, and the idea fascinated me. Then I thought- hang on a minute- what is saucy for one person, is tame to another (or too much and a complete turn off) - so how could I pick things that would appeal to everyone?

I have been lucky enough to have 80 or so stories published, so I have plenty of scenes to source, and after a bit of a trawl through my archive, I gave up trying to gather up erotic episodes that would please everybody, and selected the ones that I loved writing the most!

So here we go- four snapshots of my work from four different publications- this is pure self indulgence- thanks Lily!!

My first kinky caper comes from Chapter 9 (Ripped Off) of Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (OCPress, 2011) – okay, so who wouldn’t want this to happen to them...?

The text arrived at eight in the morning.
1:00pm - be dressed in old clothes. Bra, knickers, everything. I’m gonna rip them from your body, and then I’m going to…
Jenny’s internal temperature sky rocketed. What? What is he going to…? Texting fast, she asked what he was planning, but all she got was an enigmatic, Wait and see dirty girl.
Shivering, adorned only in an ancient oyster bra and a pair of fading matching knickers she’d fished from the very bottom of her underwear drawer, Jenny hunted through the remainder of her meager collection of clothes. Dragging a pair of holed and worn jeans and a thinning summer skirt from her closet, she threw them across the bed. Skirts rip easier, but it’s freezing outside and jeans are warmer, and if I leave the belt off…jeans then.
Choosing a top was easier. Jenny put on a white cotton shirt left over from her days as an office worker, and buttoned it halfway up to show a hint of cleavage that she was sure John would appreciate. Grabbing her hairbrush, she attacked her hair, and, with only minutes to spare, decided to sweep it up into an almost-tidy ponytail.
It was exactly one o’clock when he rapped on the door, but rather than wait for Jenny to come to greet him, John stormed straight in, pointing at her, “Are those your old clothes?”
Without wasting time waiting for a reply, John took hold of Jenny and propelled her forwards. Tipping her up so she was half lying, half propped against the sofa, her jeans were off before she’d even registered her position, the zip fly torn beyond fixing. Lost in a haze of momentum, Jenny didn’t even notice her knickers coming down, but when she found them later, the seams were neatly split down each side, as if the two pieces of material had never been joined in the first place.
How did he know that I have always wanted someone to treat me like this?
The blouse was next. John manhandled her into a standing position, her back against his chest. Jenny felt dizzy as he grabbed the opening of her top and heaved. Buttons flew in all directions as the crisp fabric gave no resistance to his strength, and her bra was effortlessly snapped at its sides, the clasp forgotten altogether.
Jenny’s mind spun at his erotic savagery as, seconds later, her forehead was buried into the top of the settee cushions. With her knees resting on the bottom of the sofa, and one of John’s knees firmly angled into the small of her back, she was pinioned in place....

Trust me – this chapter gets very much hotter! (It sooo does - Lily)

Second I have taken an excerpt from The Perfect Submissive (Xcite e-book, 2011/ paperback 2012). Set in an adult only hotel, the manageress Mrs Peters, is training a new assistant. In Chapter 7, Mrs Peters’ resident dominatrix, Miss Sarah, has been given the task of training Jess up. This starts with a very interesting exercise routine, which we join at the half way point, when poor Jess is already exhausted...

Miss Sarah sat astride Jess’s legs, trapping her in place against the gym mats. Splayed fingers ran provocatively around the outline of Jess’s tits, igniting every nerve in her body, ‘I have an incentive scheme in mind. Sit up.’
Jess struggled to her elbows and Miss Sarah deftly reached around her back and undid her bra, peeling it off with a sticky sucking sound. Then shuffling forward, she licked the nipple of each breast just once, sending shock waves of pleasure through Jess’s tired frame.
‘Each time you sit up properly, you will have a nipple tongued.’
Wishing this wasn’t such a strong incentive, but privately knowing it was Jess nodded, her face flushed with shame.
‘Good girl, I knew you would.’
With a deep breath, her hands behind her head, Jess sat up, but failed to get as far as Miss Sarah and sank back in defeat.
Jess winced as she rose upwards, determined to reach the mouth that was already parting to take in her right teat. The contact was fleeting and moist and delicious, and Jess suddenly found she had the hidden reserves to move again, this time being rewarded on the left side. Five sit ups later and Miss Sarah began to laugh, before saying, ‘Enough,’ and Jess sagged back, relieved, but instantly missing the stimulation and violently aware of the heat that was coursing between her legs.
Rising abruptly, Miss Sarah returned to her usual business-like demeanour. ‘Up.’
Taking her time to rise to her quaking legs Jess did as she was told, before drinking from the water bottle that was offered to her.
‘A quick cycle I think.’ Jess walked unsteadily to the nearest bike and went to sit down, but was stopped. ‘These need to be put in place first.’
Jess’s eyes goggled at the tiny set of love balls Miss Sarah had produced from nowhere. Tug those pants down, girl and open those legs.’
Clumsily, the clerk did as she was told, almost coming as the slender fingers slipped the weighted spheres easily inside her wet channel, before pulling up the knickers to keep them in place.
With every laboured turn of the pedals the love balls slid around inside her, and Jess could feel the knot of an orgasm rise in her like fire.
‘Hold in those stomach muscles. Keep control, girl! Consider this a practice for when I make you do this exercise without knickers on!’
Jess pulled in her tummy for all she was worth; the tighter she clenched her muscles the more the balls stayed still. But each time she lost concentration, the heavy spheres rolled towards the mouth of her vagina, and Jess had to re-double her efforts to keep them contained; their pressure adding to the need she felt magnifying by the second. By the time Miss Sarah shouted ‘Stop,’ tension oozed from every pore of Jess’s shattered body.
The moment she stopped pedalling the love balls swung within her, and unable to stop it, a climax zipped through her untutored flesh and she shook and shuddered against the bike. Not daring to look at Miss Sarah, Jess quickened herself, the disapproving silence of the room enveloping her......
‘We are almost out of time. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you these sessions are to become a regular thing, and, if you do as you’re told, then I will be rewarding you -occasionally. Now, we’ll finish with a run. This is only a small room, so I suggest four circuits of the perimeter.’
Jess looked at her in exhausted horror, ‘I can’t.’
‘Not like that you can’t, certainly. Take those knickers off; you need to get some air down there, girl.’
No longer caring about anything but the possibility of a rest, Jess dragged the wet satin away, and following the direction that Miss Sarah was pointing in, began to jog around the room. Her breasts swayed madly and the air seemed to caress her body, inflaming it all over again.
Observing the figure that was obeying her, knowing she’d only have to say the word and she’d willingly allow herself to be fucked, Miss Sarah frowned to herself. Mrs Peters might have designs on forming this girl into the ideal submissive assistant, but she began to wonder if this girl could be dangerous...

The Third extract comes from my short story, A Delivery of Words; the first tale in my anthology, Quick Kink One (Xcite e-book, 2010) Written from the perspective of a male visitor to the home of an erotica writer, it features the dirtiest book in the English language- the Dictionary...

“...Next to a closed lap-top lay a pile of books, a few of them obviously tomes on erotica, but the one on the top was a dictionary. Somehow the very ordinariness of the dictionary extinguished my desire, it seemed wrong for someone like her to own any literature that wasn’t lurid in some way.
Her gaze followed my own, and she picked up the thick, obviously well thumbed, paperback. ‘The dictionary. The dirtiest book ever written.’
Lowering her voice until it reached a slow husky sexy tone she said, ‘It contains every word I use. Every word. Every sentence I write comes from in here.’ Standing only inches away from me, her unblinking eyes, bored into mine, ‘I mix the words, change them, arrange them into whatever I want…whatever you want.’
The author was almost whispering now, and I was hanging on her every utterance. All I could think of was the very nearness of her, the fact that I was so close to her moist lips, her neat breasts and her soft bobbed red hair.
‘Say a word Joe. Any word from the dictionary.’
I regarded her blankly for a second, distracted from my longing for her body by a request which seemed quite out of keeping with our situation.
‘A word, Joe. Say the word you want to say right now.’
My brain clicked into gear as she flicked the dictionary in front of my eyes, as if it was some sort of naughty sex toy, and I said, ‘Kiss.’
I had expected her to kiss me straight away, but she didn’t. She nodded, as if to say I’d done the right thing, took a step away from me, and turned to the relevant page of the dictionary.
‘Kiss: to touch with the lips in an expression of greeting; to join lips with another in love or desire.’  Then, placing the book down on the short sofa behind her, she turned back to me, ‘I think we can manage that, don’t you?’
Then her lips met mine. Her kiss went way beyond the dull, rather bland, description she’d just read. This was a woman who knew how to kiss, how to have sex with just mouth to mouth contact, and when she pulled away I felt bereft, but she just looked calm and returned to flicking through her dictionary.
I said nothing. I realised then, as I beheld her cool composure, what I suppose I’d known all along, that this was just research for her. An interesting anecdote for her to share with me, and then immortalised in her next anthology. I should have minded, had some pride or something, but I didn’t, for she was already asking me for another word, and my brain was reeling with possibilities. I didn’t know which area of her anatomy to name first.
My eyes ran over her tight cream vest top, which just hinted at the patterned bra beneath, down to her short denim skirt, and on to her bare legs and feet. I wondered if she had any knickers on underneath. She was still looking up at me through her long eyelashes, the green of her pupils flashing as she awaited my next word.
‘Vest.’ Seldom had that word ever sounded so sexy, and I waited with held breath and sticky palms while she turned back to her book. I marvelled at the quiet control of this woman who, at a foot shorter than me, had quickly and skilfully established her power over me.
‘Vest: an undergarment covering the top half of the body; an American word for waistcoat.’
Much to my disappointment, she didn’t take the garment off as soon as she’d finished reading, but just stood in front of me, silent and waiting.
That was when I finally understood the full nature of the game she was playing. You may think I was slow in catching on, but my brain had been taken over by my dick, and it was hard work to concentrate on anything other than the fact that eventually I would be allowed to fuck this strange creature- at least, I hoped I would.
With a throaty murmur I said, ‘Remove.’
Her fingers, less agile than they had been in her haste to oblige, found the relevant word. ‘Remove: to take away and place elsewhere; to dismiss; to do away with.’
Once she’d finished reading she tore the vest from her torso in one movement. I stared at her, and croaked out the word, ‘Bra,’ literally licking my lips with anticipation.
‘Bra: under garment worn by women to support their breasts.’
I stepped forward, eager to hold her newly revealed tits. They were small, round and pert, with neat dark nipples that pointed invitingly at me. The writer however, moved away. I was confused for a second, as her body language clearly told me that she wanted me to touch her as badly as I wanted to oblige. Then I remembered, and said, ‘Touch.’...

My final choice contains a taster from my story, Dear Claire, which features in my Fem Dom anthology Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), and is maybe more what Kay Jaybee reader’s have come to expect. Claire has left her friend Ali a present- her partner Rick, who Ali has been told is waiting for her in the bedroom...

...The reason for Rick’s lack of response was immediately apparent. Ali’s mouth slammed shut. She didn’t know where to look first. All she could think, as she hovered immobilised in the doorway, her eyes roaming with pussy clenching leisure over Rick’s tied frame, was that Claire had intended her to find him like this. She evidently had more in common with her friend than she’d previously thought.

Rick was stood side on to the end of the bed; his legs positioned about half a metre apart. A solid metal shackle, fastened to the leg of the bed frame, surrounded and connected each ankle. He was effectively pinioned to the spot.

His arms were secured behind his back with a pair of leather cuffs, and his dangerous brown eyes were hidden beneath a heavily padded strip of black material, which also covered his ears. Ali realised that he hadn’t even heard her calls. And even if he had been able to hear her, the hard ball gag wedged between his teeth would have prevented him from responding.

With heart pounding disbelief, almost on tiptoe, Ali walked towards the man who haunted her dreams, not sure whether to visit his front or back view first. She opted for his rear.

Her surprise at finding Rick bound and helpless paled into insignificance compared to the shock of what her emerald green eyes spied as she observed his tight arse. On the right buttock, tattooed in tiny neat red script, were the words ‘If I don’t obey my mistress, I will suffer.’

The evidence of this suffering was obvious. Across his butt cheeks and the top of his legs, old welds and bruises littered his skin. An image of Claire bedecked in black leather entered her mind. It wasn’t difficult to picture her whipping her lover for a whole host of unknown crimes.

Reaching out a hand, Ali hovered it in front of his scarred flesh. Her damp knickered desire at odds with the fact that she was about to touch her friends lover. Yet, Claire had set this up. The more Ali thought about it, the more she knew it was okay, and the idea that Rick might not know it was her, only increased her body’s nervous frisson. In fact, until she touched him, he wouldn’t know anyone was with him at all.
Reverently tracing the healing line of a past lash, Ali experienced a rush of adrenalin fuelled pleasure run down her spine and tickle her snatch.

Aware that he was not alone, Rick’s head twisted left and right, his senses straining to work out where his unseen companion was. Ignoring his flailing, Ali knelt as close as possible to the tattoo. Inhaling the aroma of masculinity, her sharp turquoise fingernails followed the loops of calligraphy.

From her crouched position, Ali could see Rick’s balls. Passing a hand through his rigidly immobile legs, she teased his scrotum, enjoying the increased tensing of his leg muscles. Suddenly her fingers met a new and unexpected texture.

Moving around him quickly, Ali found herself facing the most solid dick she’d ever seen in her life, all neatly done up in a bright red ribbon. Two small silver keys were attached to either end of the garland, both presumably corresponding to the locks at his ankles and wrists. Ali’s final doubts about betraying Claire dissolved in an instant. The bow adorning his shaft was presenting Rick as if he was a gift. ..

I hope you’ve enjoyed these four titbits from the KJB chronicles! Many thanks again to Lily for letting me drop by to play today


Kay x


  1. Thanks Lily- I had so much fun with this post!! x

  2. Perfect excerpts. A little something for everyone. And a gift that keeps on giving!