Tuesday, 31 July 2012


Nyotaimori is the ancient Japanese tradition of eating sushi from a naked woman. Often referred to as "body sushi".

Before service, the individual takes a bath using a special fragrance-free soap and then finishes off with a splash of cold water to chill the body down somewhat for the sushi. 

To be a living sushi platter, the woman is trained to lie down for hours without moving. She (or he on occasion) must also be able to withstand the prolonged exposure to cold food, for sushi is served from fresh from the refrigerator. It is also a good idea if the body is free from excessive hair!

People have different opinions on this tradition that's not as common in Japan as you might think, but has sparked the interest of the international community. Promoters say that nyotaimori is a form of art. Whereas some feminists argue that it objectives women.

Tickets for naked sushi night may cost around US$75. Others, which include sake and champagne can cost £250.

I was inspired by this unusual way of enjoying sushi and it forms the first few chapters of my novella DESSERT which is part of the new Ellora's Cave for Men line. Of course, me being me, its not just the food that's hot and spicy...


Nyotaimori was new for me, eating my dinner off a beautiful, naked woman an experience I’d never been lucky enough to indulge in. So when a customer treated me to a meal at The Geisha Plate it was an effort to keep my cock under control and my focus on the food. Damn, it had been a while!
But control myself I did until, that is, the spice levels cranked to boiling point and dessert turned out to be a mind-blowing, soul-twistingly delicious blowjob. I instantly craved more.
Plus I’m not a guy who likes debt, I had to return the favor by hook or by crook, it was an urge that threatened to consume me. Luckily my lovely Geisha girl turned out to be the sweetest woman I’d ever had the pleasure of pleasuring, and her healthy appetite for getting raw and naked with me for starters, main course and dessert turned out to be a wild ride for my every fantasy, and enough to keep me more than satisfied in every department.

You can read an excerpt HERE.

Have a great day

Lily x

Monday, 30 July 2012

Clandestine Classics - out today!

Today sees the release of Total-E-Bound's new range of classic literature with saucy additions to suit the taste of discerning erotica readers.

There is no doubt that the classics remain an inspiration to writers, even today, with many complex and thought-provoking story lines. So, some of Total-E-Bound's authors have been playing around  with characters from the past and filling in the gaps - or rather - leaving the bedroom door wide open instead of leaving everything to the reader's imagination.

You didn’t really think that these much loved characters only held hands and pecked cheeks did you? No! Well now you can learn what Sherlock really thought of Watson, what Mr Darcy really wanted to do to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and unveil the sexy escapades of Mr Rochester and Jane Eyre. Total-E-bound can show you the scenes that you always wanted to see but were never allowed!

I really like the idea, this could bring classics to new readers. People who liked 50 Shades for example, they've got a taste for spice on their pages and might venture toward some of these timeless love stories for their next fix.

Of course there will be critics, but if people don't like it, that's fine. No one is stopping them from reading the originals – after all they still exist – but Total-E-Bound are opening their version of the classics for people to enjoy and are promoting them in a positive light. 

I am very fortunate to have cornered the fabulous Sarah Master's who delved into Sherlock and Watson's inner desires and produced her extended version of A Study in Scarlet. I pinned her down and bombarded her with questions - well just three actually because she was bubbling with her next project :-)

1. Did you pick Hemlock Bones or did it pick you?

My mind went to Hemlock immediately. No other book entered my head. It might sound silly, but it was as though it also picked me. Crazy thing to say, really, but that's how it felt. I've been drawn to Hemlock since I was a child, so to have the opportunity to adapt A Study in Scarlet has been absolutely THE best experience of my writing career so far. It was exciting, amazing, and I couldn't wait to finish work every day so I could write at night--and that's saying something because I adore my day job. This project tugged at me during the day, and I must say it was one of those writing times that gripped me so hard I could barely think of anything else. To have the chance to do this was an honour.

2. Was it hard adapting your voice to sound like A Co Doyles'?

No, I found it relatively easy as I've written historicals in my other pen name. Of course, some will say my voice is nothing like Doyles' and it stands out that it was written by two people, but there will always be those who will feel negatively about this project and will see fault in it no matter how well the voices may blend. As with everything in life, you can't please everyone!

3. How have the first responses to these new versions of this classic mystery been?

I had prepared myself for the negative comments, and to be honest, having been a writer for some years I've already developed that thick skin needed. Bad reviews no longer upset me, and the sometimes aggressive comments about this project have also failed to upset me. I like to think I can see all sides of a situation, and I understand how those angry about this must feel, but not everyone is against this project. There are many who are excited about reading classics that have been brought up to date, people who may not have ever read a classic otherwise. This aspect is amazing, because the more people who experience the classics the better. 

I've read comments about how the erotic element is already in the original books, that people just need to open their minds and find it, imagine it. Today's society, however, is fast-paced, and people don't always have time to imagine. I know I don't sometimes! Every so often I want a book where everything is spelled out. Other times I don't, but when I do, books with everything there on the page are ideal for me. I suspect there are many people all over the world who feel the same.

What I hope for the most is that those who do read erotica, or those who will read it for the first time with these classics, thoroughly enjoy the experience. I hope that they find themselves in a beautiful new world, taken back into the past, and that the added scenes are an enhancement for them. 

I don't believe the world has gone sex mad; I feel people are just being more open about enjoying it nowadays, being able to express how they feel openly instead of it all being behind closed doors. And that's something you won't find in these classics. Closed doors. All of them are very, very wide open. Come on, stand in the doorway, lean on the jamb, and indulge yourself in the carnal passions of some of the most wonderful people ever created.

* * * *

Sarah Master's is just one of Emmy Ellis' pen names. She also writes m/f under the name Natalie Dae - You might recognise this, the first novel we wrote together!

You can find out more about her writing HERE

And if you want to check out my version of Elizabeth and Darcy's wedding night - a free short story I wrote a few years ago - then click below.

Thanks for stopping by

Lily x

Sunday, 29 July 2012

The Romance Reviews Sizzling Summer Reads Event - win a copy of SCORED

For a chance to win a pdf copy of SCORED head over to The Romance Reviews and join in the fun - don't forget you have to register/log in to play :-)

Thursday, 26 July 2012


The Olympics are finally here and we're celebrating with scrummy, sporting smooches which suits me perfectly.

My steamy scene is from SCORED a sexy soccer novel available at Amazon. (Amazon UK). Leave a comment to be in with a chance to win a bronze, silver or gold prize - details here - don't forget to leave your email address.


Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?

So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?

Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.

* * * * *

Here is the excerpt. The hunky captain Lewis has asked Nicky to meet him in secret before he has to dash off to the next match, be warned, its HOT...

The knowledge that Lewis had gone out of his way to contact me, and not only that he wanted to see me, had my mood sky-rocketing. However, the switch from the doldrums to euphoria had given rise to insomnia and I hardly slept all night. But I wasn’t complaining. I was more than happy to set my alarm, get up, shower and curl my hair. Because getting ready to meet the man my obsessive brain had fixated on was hardly a chore. It was a pleasure, an excitement, and I had to force myself to nibble on a biscuit as I dressed, knowing if I didn’t eat I would feel nauseous by midmorning.
A quick cab ride took me to the cathedral, delivering me a few minutes before nine. I paid the driver, alighted and stood at the base of the steps leading up to the grand entrance. I rolled my lips in on themselves. The color of my new lipstick wasn’t exactly suitable for a place of worship but then neither was my underwear—a sexy pink and black lace-trimmed set with tiny bows on the cups and thonged panties.
But it didn’t matter because praying wasn’t on my mind today, neither was looking at the magnificent architecture. This morning my hedonistic thoughts were going to be directed at a certain captain I hoped would already be waiting for me inside this holy building.
Did I feel sinful?
Hell yeah. I would have to make up for it later and be sure to do some extra good deeds.
The entrance was quiet and still. Through the second set of heavy doors it was even more so. The atmosphere heavy, cool and silent. At first I thought the pews were deserted, but as I walked down the aisle, my soft shoes silent, I spotted a figure partially obscured by a thick pillar.
He wore a hoody again, the dark material pulled up and over his head so his face wasn’t visible. He was looking downward, as though studying his clasped hands and deep in prayer.
It had to be Lewis.
I sidled along the pew toward him. Hyper aware of every noise in the silence—my breathing, my hands on the wood, the beat of my heart.
He didn’t look up.
I edged closer.
Suddenly my confidence started to slip. What if it wasn’t him? Perhaps it was some hobo who used the cathedral for shelter. He might have a knife, want to rob me, rape me, kill me, and here was I offering myself up to him like a sacrificial lamb.
No. I was being silly. Lewis had worn a hoody like that when he’d come to the cathedral before. It had to be him. I tried to flush macabre images from my mind and hold onto a thread of sensibility. I had arranged to meet him here, at nine. He was here, that was all, nothing to fear.
A sudden loud clanging vibrated through my head and I froze. My body tensed and my legs trembled—fight or flight? Panic rolled up from my feet to the top of my head and for a second my focus fuzzed.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It was the bells in the high-domed steeple clanging out that it was nine o’clock. I waited, I don’t know why, until the ninth ring, then continued toward what I hoped was Lewis.
I stopped just two meters from the man, pretty sure it was him. But didn’t dare speak. I just stood, waiting for him to acknowledge me.
Eventually he turned and the hood covering his face shifted. He had on black shades and sported a good growth of light brown stubble that sat heavier in the dink in his chin.
“Oh, it is you,” I said on a sigh and sat down.
He removed his glasses. “Well if you had to get this close to realize then my crude attempt at disguise is obviously working.” His voice was low and hushed.
“I thought you might be a tramp or something, having a snooze.” I spoke equally quietly.
“I’m sure Gucci would love to know that about their new range of casual sportswear.” He smiled and his face softened. “How are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Not bad.” He glanced at the gap between us. “Better if you would sit closer.”
I slid my bum along the wood until my shoulder brushed his. He reached for my hand, held it, palm up, and traced a circle at the centre. Renewed longing sped through me as I was treated to a flashback of him holding my breast. How he’d touched me with just the right amount of pressure, tweaked my nipple with just the right degree of tension. How we’d been so rudely interrupted...
I tried and failed to suppress a small sigh.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How did you get on with Fellows? Did he buy your story about you being in the bathroom?”
“Yeah, I think so, but he’s keeping a pretty tight rein on everyone at the moment. He’s a goddamn control freak.”
“He’s just doing his job.”
“That’s very understanding of you, considering.”
“Considering what? The way he spoke to me in the bar or the way he made you leave just when things were getting hot between us.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Things were getting pretty hot, weren’t they? I left feeling like a man in the desert who’d just had his water bottle taken away.”
“I know what you mean.” I looked at his legs, his thick strong thighs resting over the seat of the pew, his jeans a little faded in all the right places. “When are you going to Kiev?”
“Later today. We’re flying up. You?”
“I’m catching the evening train. I’ve got some cheap place booked once I get there. Should be okay just for two nights. I’m there to see you thrash Sweden not wallow in luxury.”
“I wish I could get you into our hotel.”
I rested my other hand on his forearm, felt hard tendons and heat beneath the super-soft material of the hoody. “I think we were lucky to get what we had. I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to move you back into your suite.”
“It’s nice, the new room. Perhaps you’d like to see it when we get back to Donetsk.”
“And how would I be able to do that?” I couldn’t keep the incredulousness from my tone.
He paused for a second. Cocked his head. “You forget, Nicky, I'm a man who gets what he wants.”
I swallowed tightly. The determination in his eyes, the way his jaw had set, sent a thrilling shiver of anticipation through me. “And you want...?”
He stroked the back of his index finger down my cheek then threaded his fingers into my hair and held the back of my head. “I want you, Nicky. Don’t you get that? I want you with me, next to me, in my bed, in my pool. I want to get to know everything about you.”
An emotion scarily like fear bubbled within me. This dream was just too perfect. I didn’t want it to pop. It would send me reeling, tumbling into oblivion. I wasn’t sure how I would pick up the pieces. Who would ever compare to Lewis Tate? Was I being crazy to listen to him speak this way? Making me feel like I was the only girl for him?
I had to know. The sooner it was out in the open the better. Because the longer I let him make me believe I was special the harder it would be when I realized I didn’t mean anything to him. “But why? Why would you want me when you can have anyone? There are a million women out there who would happily throw themselves at your feet”
He frowned. “But I don’t know them and I don’t care about them.”
“But how can you not?”
“Because you’re the first real woman I’ve met in a long time. You’re not pretending to be something you’re not and that appeals to me.” He leaned closer, his cologne infiltrating my nostrils and threatening to remove my ability to think straight. “A lot.”
“But I’m just Nicky Thomas, sports journalist. I come from Stoke and have a middle-class, unremarkable background. Why would someone as amazing as you, with all your footballing credentials, want me?”
He shook his head and appeared bemused. “What does football have to do with me admiring your professionalism, being comfortable with who you are and fighting for what you want?” He paused. “You do still like me, don’t you?”
I nodded. Unable to trust myself to speak and gush about just how much I liked him. How much I would like to cover him in whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drops and spend an entire day eating it off him.
“Good,” he said. “Because if you can just cope with this craziness for a little while longer, in few weeks the tournament will be over and we won’t have to sneak around.”
“You mean—”
He brushed his lips over mine. “Yes, honey, I mean this is just the start of something. Well, it is for me anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who’s been my last thought as I’ve gone to sleep and my first thought each morning.”
Oh, fuck. Now he’s got me.
I became a puddle of romantic ideals falling toward him. Didn’t he know what kind of effect sentiments like that had on a girl? I reached for his shoulders, pressed my body to his and allowed him to kiss me into a stupor of longing. He was my every thought too. When I wasn’t with him I was thinking about being with him and when I was with him I just couldn’t get close enough.
He tangled his fingers in my hair and held me firm as he kissed and explored my mouth. I let him in and melted under his touch. The way he was clasping me was so possessive, so masculine and dominant. Little thought kernels of what he could do to me, how he could make me feel, in bed, began to pop like candy in my belly. Imagine if he held me like this when he...
Oh, sweet Jesus. I was getting turned on again. Shit, and in a holy place.
Lewis groaned and sent kisses across my cheek, tugged my hair firmer so my head tipped, then licked and nipped at my neck. Lust shot to my pussy. It was like there was a wire from the skin on my neck to my clit and his attentions sent white-hot streaks of pleasure zapping down it.
“Lewis,” I murmured, trying to move my head but unable to. I discovered that far from feeling frustrated I reveled in the hold he had on me. That fact that I couldn’t move and he was doing what he wanted to my neck was a massive turn-on.
“Ah, honey, I could have fucking killed Fellows the other night. Walking away from you took every ounce of control I had.”
His breath was scalding hot against my flesh and I shivered with pleasure at his heated words.
“It was okay for you, though,” he went on.
“What do you mean?”
He released the grip on my head and brought my face level with his. “I think you know.”
I swallowed. I did know.
“You used it, didn’t you?”
“Don’t act coy.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Because it makes me so horny to imagine you using your vibrator and thinking of me.”
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
He took full advantage and kissed me again. This time he slipped his hand up my top and cupped my breast over the new bra.
I pressed closer for more. Why did we have to be fully clothed and in a cathedral? Right now I would sell my soul to be naked in bed with him and no other person for a hundred miles around.
“I can just imagine you,” he said, tweaking my nipple through silk. “Lying on the bed, legs spread, that buzzing shaft penetrating your sweetness, getting you off, making you pant and sweat.” He paused. “Did you think of me?”
Fuck yes.
“Tell me,” he whispered, “Please, I want to know.”
“Yes. Yes I did.”
I felt his body tense and his shoulders hitched, like he was pulling in a deep breath. “And did you say my name?” He switched his attentions to the opposite breast.
“Yes, over and over.”
He fluttered his eyes shut and let out a long deep sigh. “Oh, fuck, that mental image of you is so hot,” he muttered.
“Lewis Tate,” I said in a scolding whisper. “You’re a bad boy picturing such things in a holy place.”
His eyes pinged open and his gaze trapped mine. For a split second I thought he might grin. He didn’t. “Tell me you’re not thinking them too.”
“Yes, I am, but—”
“But the difference is you’re not going to have zipper marks permanently imprinted on your genitals.” He shifted on the seat. “Fuck, you make me so hard.” He shook his head and muttered, “So hard it hurts.”
That knowledge thrilled me utterly. “Is that so?” I ran my hand down over his chest, his abdomen, then settled it on the solid wedge of flesh at his groin that was pushing and straining against the denim.
“That’s not helping.” He moaned. His face twisted and his eyes screwed up tight.
“I know what will, though.” Fuck. Had I really just said that? Double fuck. Had I really just thought that? I had, and it seemed I was the biggest sinner of the lot because I didn’t care. I wanted to act on my impulse. In fact, I wasn’t sure anything could stop me. Not now the need, the desire, had flooded my brain like a tsunami.
I tugged at the button on his jeans, freeing it with a quick flick of my wrist.
“Nicky,” he said, parting his lips on a pant. “What are you doing?” He opened his eyes. They were dark and smoky, their normally crystal-clear depths clouded with lust.
“I’m going to help you out with that zipper problem.” As I spoke I tugged down the zip on his jeans. The flesh beneath burst forward, the cotton of his briefs not as efficient at containing his cock as the denim had been.
“Ah, fuck, really, here?” He hissed in a breath as I cupped his shaft through cotton.
I glanced around. “We seem to be alone.”
“But anyone could walk in—”
I kissed him, cut off his words, the same way he had me earlier. “I somehow don’t think it will take long.” I sought the waistband of his boxers and delved inside. Bulging, heated flesh strained forward and I gripped it eagerly. Ecstatic to finally have his cock in my hand. “Now just let me down there,” I said, nodding between his knees and finding myself admiring the proud, scarlet shaft filling my palm. The head was wide and shiny and blushed with arousal.
He didn’t speak, just spread his thighs and let me maneuver myself between him and the pew in front. “Keep look out,” I said, finding a prayer cushion for my knees and settling into the softness.
“I’ll try.” His cheeks were flushed, his jaw tensed.
I gave him a sexy grin then poked out my tongue and stroked it through the deep slit on the head of his cock. Pulled in his flavor and swept it over my palate. It was sweetly bitter with a salty creaminess to it. Delicious.
“Ah, shit, that’s so horny seeing you do that.” He tipped forward and gripped the backrest of the pew behind me, effectively embracing me within his bulk and engulfing me in shadows. “Fuck, be careful. I’m so near coming already.”
“Keep looking out,” I said, then stretched my mouth wide and took his head between my lips.
He groaned low and guttural. I would have loved to play with him. Fret my tongue around the rim of his glans and hear more of his agonized pleasure echo up to the ceiling. But I didn’t dare. It was bad enough God was watching us but the thought of someone else catching us didn’t bear thinking about.
Squeezing his shaft, I dropped down, stretching my lips around his wide girth and taking him as far to the back of my throat as I could. Once his glans settled there I set up a rapid bobbing rhythm, scooping my tongue around his shaft and making sure he hit my tonsils each time.
He hissed in rapid breaths and pressed one hand over the crown of my head. His legs tensed around my ribs and I knew I was doing it right. Just right.
“Ah, fuck, seriously. If you don’t swallow best stop now, because I am about to...”
Oh, I swallowed all right. What was the point in not?
I increased the suction, picked up the speed. He pulled in a massive breath that he didn’t release. His cock was steely, bloated with blood. I couldn’t reach his balls due to his clothing but I was damned sure they’d be packed up tight and getting ready to explode.
They did.
In a sudden surge, semen blasted into my mouth and his shaft gave several powerful pulses. I swallowed rapidly, pulling his glans deeper than ever and adoring the sensation of his hot, milky liquid spewing down my gullet.
He held the back of my head. Not uncomfortably so, but with a spine-tingling amount of control in his grip.
“Ah, ah, yeah, that’s it, fuck...”
Suddenly he leaned forward, scooped his hands under my arms and plonked me on the pew next to him again. “Fucking hell, Nicky.”
I was still swallowing and missed the feel of his cock in my mouth—we’d just got acquainted.
Wiping the corners of my lips, I glanced around. The place was still empty, which was just as well because I got the impression Lewis hadn’t attended to his look-out duties with any degree of concentration.
Quickly, he tucked away his deflating cock and re-did his jeans. “Bloody hell,” he said. “That was so damn hard and fast.”
“I didn’t think we should linger,” I said.
He too swept his gaze around the place. “Thank God no one came in.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Well, you’re in the right place to thank him.” I grinned.
He cupped my cheek, kissed me gently. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sure that was one hell of a sin but it felt bloody amazing.”
“I’m glad I could help you with your problem.” I cast my attention downward. “I wouldn’t like to think that the captain of the team had any needs unattended to.”
“Oh, honey, how little you know of me.” He grinned wickedly.
“What do you mean?” A flurry of excited butterflies swarmed in my abdomen.
“You don’t know what you’ve just started.” He paused, touched his nose to mine. “Because that was just to take the edge of what I want to do to you. The best is yet to come.”
“When?” I could hardly restraint the need in my voice.
He frowned. “Like I said, I’m a man who gets what he wants, Nicky, and I want you. So you can rest assured it won’t be long.”
A sudden high-pitched beeping caught his attention and he glanced at his silver wristwatch. “I have to go. I gave myself forty minutes to get here, meet with you and then get back. Figured I could make something up about a walk around the park or a trip to get a few souvenirs if anyone noticed.” He lifted my hand and kissed my palm. “I have to go.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you in Kiev, at the press conference.”
“Yep. Good luck, not that you need it.”
“A bit of luck never does any harm.” He stood and tugged me with him. “And right now I feel like the luckiest guy on earth.”
He certainly looked like he’d had a weight lifted off him. His shoulders, though still hard and tense, weren’t bunched up around his ears, and his limbs looked loose and pliant. It would have been so nice now if we could just stretch out in bed, soak in a bath or massage one another. Let him enjoy his post-orgasm glow and perhaps bring me into the same state.
But that wasn’t the case and instead we moved from the pews, down the aisle and out in to the dazzling morning sunshine.
I turned to him. He wore his shades again and his hoody was up and around his face. “I guess its goodbye then,” I said.
“Give me your phone.”
After rummaging in my purse, I handed it to him. He fiddled for a few seconds, tapping his finger on the screen. A double beep came from his pocket.
“I’ve just sent myself a text,” he said. “Now I have your number. He leaned forward slightly, as though to kiss me.
I stepped back and shook my head. Glanced at the shops and the cafés on the street opposite. “Someone might see.”
“But I’m in disguise.”
“Not worth the risk.” I shrugged.
He sighed. “You’re right.”
“Go, look, there’s a taxi.”
He gave me one last lingering look then trotted down the steps, held out his arm and hailed a passing cab.

I hope you enjoyed that steamy, stolen moment. Have a great day.

Lily x

Buy Links

Click HERE to go back to the list of Smutlympic Posts

Wednesday, 25 July 2012


I have just got the cover through for my 5th HOT ICE novel, High-Sticked. This m/m story features Matthew Foster, an English photographer, who is tasked with taking cover-shots of hunky hockey player Todd Carty - needless to say things get pretty damn hot on and off the ice!!

Also, sticking with the sporting theme, why not join me over at When One Is Not Enough where I am getting in a twist about the Olympic man candy soon to be on offer!

Lily x

Tuesday, 24 July 2012

Tasty Teaser!

The very lovely Kay Jaybee has invited me over to her blog to share a tasty teaser - hope to see you there.

Monday, 23 July 2012

Heartthrob Haven

I'm over at Heartthrob Haven today, where I've given a voice to the female character in my book DESSERT - part of the Ellora's Cave for Men line. Please come and join me :-)

Lily x

Sunday, 22 July 2012

Sunday Snog

It's that time of week again....

This snog is from The Unwholesome Adventure of Harita a short novel in Total-E-Bound's Bollywood line.


No one knows it is I, Kamini Singh who writes The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita.

The weekly column in Ichchha Magazine has been my secret for many years and penning Harita’s wild sexual experiences has been a wonderful release for my frustrated emotions as I’ve waited for my parents to find me a suitable husband.

Now they have – the delectable Damon, and I can barely contain my excitement as our wedding, and wedding night, approaches. Handing myself over to him body and soul is going to be such a treat.

So imagine my delighted surprise when my new husband asks for even more than I ever dared hope? And imagine my shock when I realised that Damon had secrets of his own which could please me, satisfy me, and take me on ecstatic journeys which got more and more daring with each adventure Harita enjoyed.

Reader Advisory: This book contains ménage and dominance/submission.

* * * * * 

The excerpt is taken from the first chapter - just after Kamini and Damon's marriage ceremony, as you will be able to tell, things get pretty heated between them...

I turned as Damon stepped into the kitchen. Finally, we were alone together. Alone as man and wife in our new home.
Tum Sada mere sapno mein rahti ho,” he said, stepping up close and taking my hands in his.
“And you have been in my dreams, too,” I said, looking down at his thumbs as he traced the intricate henna pattern spread over my palms. “From the very first moment, I knew we were right together.”
He lifted my right hand to his cheek, spread out my fingers and pressed my palm over his lightly stubbled flesh. “You let me sit down first,” he said. “During the ceremony.”
Absorbing the heat and sweetly sharp texture of his skin, I nodded and wondered if he were now going to ask me about the love balls.
He didn’t. Instead, “You conceded to me being the boss of our relationship very easily. I had anticipated a more modern approach.” He grinned. “A scuffle for equality.”
“I am your bride, your wife, I will do as you ask. Obey the same way my mother, my grandmother and her mother before that have.”
“Oh, Siyàra,” he said, the endearment as sweet as sugar to my ears. “In this marriage I wish us to discuss our lives as two adults joined together in a team. You have a college degree, a job, you are respected and your opinions sought after. If I were a man who had no regard for your input, it would make me very foolish indeed.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my palm. “And I would hate to be considered foolish, most of all by you.”
It was the first time his lips had touched my body. Like an electric shock, the current of pleasure shot up my arm, across my shoulder and settled in my breasts.
“Then that is how it will be,” I managed, though my throat was tight and my mouth dry. Nerves were simmering in my belly, clamping my pussy, but desire burnt hotter. Desire for my husband was the overwhelming emotion.
“We will plan together when to start a family, how many children we would like, how many hours you wish to work. I intend to be a thoroughly modern husband to you, Siyàra, and give you the control over your life every woman should have.”
“And for that I’m very grateful.” A spark of hope grew that I would be able to tell Damon about Harita. Perhaps he would prove modern enough to understand that his wife had a character in her head who liked to flow onto the screen and entertain thousands, hundreds of thousands, every week with her saucy shenanigans. I hoped so, because one thing was for certain—I couldn’t give up Harita. But, equally, I wasn’t sure how well I would be able to keep her a secret. I’d created quite a dilemma for myself and had absolutely no one to turn to for advice.
“But there is one thing.” His face became deadly serious, and a muscle flexed in his jaw.
“Go on,” I said, worried as to the cause of the creases ploughing across his forehead.
“There is something about me you should know.”
I gulped. What if he wanted a marriage in name alone, for appearance sake, and was not interested in consummating until the decision to have children had been made? What if the love balls were in place of his cock?
He dropped my hand and rubbed his fingers to his temple as though soothing an ache. “I...I hope I do not shock you, but there is one thing I am going to ask of you. One thing I have to ask regardless of whether or not your answer is yes. It is not something we could have discussed before the wedding, but I hope with all my heart you will find understanding and consider the possibility of what I am about to say...of what I am about to ask.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean. Understand what?”
He turned and faced the drawn curtains. I studied his wide shoulders and broad back. The white material of his kafni stretched between his scapulas and hung down past his bum, skimming the base of his lean thighs, just above his knees.
“Damon,” I said, anxiety welling in me. What on earth could he need to ask that had him so on edge? Did he know about Harita? No, impossible. “Damon, please, just tell me? Is it about the gift—?”
“Kamini,” he interrupted, “I am a kind man, I go out of my way to help others and I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone physically or emotionally, I would never even step on an ant.”
“But of course, Damon. I know your gentle nature from my parents.”
He turned, and his gaze snared mine. “Kamini, what I am trying to say is I want us equal in all aspects of our lives except for one.”
I hesitated. “Go on.”
He pulled in a deep breath, as though summoning courage. “When we step into the bedroom, I want you to obey me without question.”
My knees weakened, and I hitched in a breath. His words sent a thousand scenarios through my brain. I might be a virgin, but I was incredibly well read.
He stepped closer, his eyes sparkling and his words coming fast, almost tripping over themselves. “I want you to trust me, hand over your body and your pleasure entirely to me. Believe that I will make you happy and keep you satisfied.”
“But of course I will trust you, we are married.”
He shook his head, and a lock of his dark hair fell forwards. “What I am asking for is so much more than that. Perhaps I should have waited before I brought up the subject of domination, but part of me finds it so sexy, such a turn-on, that to think it could be like that for us right from the first time... It is the most exciting thing I can think of.”
Suddenly my pussy tightened like a clamp, and my panties became so wet I felt sure my juice would actually run down my leg. Domination scenes were my very favourite to dream up when it came to Harita. I adored her being ordered about, forced to surrender to Madan’s desires and allowing him to take her whenever and wherever he wanted. Sometimes I had her tied up and spanked until she came. On other occasions she would be teased until she begged for release. Yes, domination and submission was an obsession when it came to my writing. It was the basis for my characters’ relationship, and now, here on my wedding night, my new husband was suggesting that very thing. “I...I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, you haven’t refused, so I am guessing that’s a good thing.” He smiled, almost shyly .
“Damon.” I reached for his hand, feeling bold in the move to touch him first. “I, as you said, am a modern girl. I wish to please you, and I also have an idea of what will please me, even though tonight will be my first time.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgement of my final statement.
I went on, “If you want me to obey you in our marital bed, then that’s what will happen, and I have a feeling I will like it. Very much.”
“Siyàra,” he said. His anxious eyes had softened. “Your eagerness to obey me is sweet, but do you truly understand what I’m asking of you?”
I nodded and pressed up close to him. “Yes, I understand the word obey very well.” His hard pectoral muscles pressed just above my breasts, and his sweet breath breezed over my face. “I understand that I will obey without question when you order me into position and do what you want with my body.” I lowered my voice and was surprised by how husky and deep it came out. “I will obey even when you tie me up and tease me, spank my bottom and order me not to find release until you give me permission. I will also obey when you order me to put your manhood in my mouth, suck it until you can take no more and your sticky seed floods my throat. Then, if you order me to swallow, I will swallow, every...last...drop.”
His eyes widened, and his jaw clenched. “You have no idea what those dirty words coming out of your sweet mouth have just done to me.” His voice was strained and breathless.
I grinned and slipped a hand into the small of his back, tightening our bodies together. “I think I do,” I whispered, delighting in the hard evidence of his arousal butting into my stomach.
He groaned and lowered his head, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine.
“I think, Damon, as our parents said, we are indeed a match made in heaven.” I grinned wickedly. “Though they probably never took this into account.” Initiating our first kiss, I touched my lips to his, softly and sweetly, understanding that beneath Damon’s smooth, civilised veneer there was a raw and primitive passion waiting to be unleashed. And I wanted it, I wanted it all. Now.

* * * * *

I hope you enjoyed this build up to the rest of the novella. If it has wet your appetite here are the buy links.

Thanks for stopping by, have a great day.

Lily x

Saturday, 21 July 2012

Flesh Spills and Secret Thrills!

Flesh Spills and Secret Thrills by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse

House of Erotica brings you a collection of sexy rubenesque short stories, sensually written by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse. This range of exciting stories will leave you desperately wanting to read on…

Stories include:-

Flesh Spills and Secret Thrills

When Lorella’s boyfriend Chris suggests that she’d look sexy in a corset, she finds the mere thought hilarious. A big girl like her would look ridiculous in such a thing! But as she’s always up for trying something new, she hits the online shops. When her new corset arrives, Lorella can’t wait to try it on and see how she looks, ready to surprise Chris when he gets home. But when she does, she gets a thrilling surprise of her own.

Miri on the Wall

Callum’s a prolific artist, with many beautiful models on his books. But there’s only one that stands out for him – Miri. He’s never had the courage to do anything about his feelings, though. When a client commissions a nude painting of a rubenesque woman, Callum has a dilemma. Miri is the only suitable model – but will she agree to the project? And how will Callum cope with the object of his love and lust being completely naked in front of him?

Carnal Praise

The Bishop is visiting and Caroline is practising her solo when her husband stops accompanying her on the piano and initiates a far more carnal kind of praise.

Down Amongst the Daffodils

Rachel bumps into an old crush from school, Stephen, who’s now a gardener at a local park. They get down and dirty in the grass beside the bright yellow daffodils.

Available from:
More about the authors: