A Few Observations on My Authorversary

CoverI always like to start my blog posts off by coming up with the title, but I had trouble coming up with something suitable for today’s post and that, in and of itself, is disconcerting. In other words, sorry for the lame title. 😉

So, where should I start?

Well, today is my authorversary. On April 29 of last year, I published my first novel, Doctor’s Orders, and Jaye Elise was born. At that point, I still hadn’t told my husband that I was a published author and I already had another book in the pipeline. All in all, it’s been an exciting year! Three solo novels published, three more with my amazing co-author, Jack Crosby, and a short story in a Christmas anthology…not too shabby. And this doesn’t even include the Wicked Daddy-inspired stories I’ve been posting! 😉

I’ve made some amazing friends over the past year as well, including you, dear readers! A few who readily come to mind are the aforementioned Jack (bacon lover and cheerleader extraordinaire!), Katie Douglas, Wicked Daddy, Gracie Malling, Marlee Wray, Philip Mitchell Stein, Ruth Storm, J.B. Crown, Seanna Cullen…and the list could keep growing! What a pleasure it is to learn, grow, and share ideas with you all!

It’s a bittersweet day, though, and there’s really no hiding that fact. Without overdramatizing my situation, I wouldn’t call what I’m going through right now “writer’s block”…it’s more like “writer’s paralysis”. I’ve bought loads of my friends’ publications and have them ready to go on my iPad…but I can’t bear to read them. I’ve got four or five novels in various stages of development…but I can’t even open the documents to see what a shambles they are. I’ve got suggestions, support, and recommendations about moving forward coming in from all across my network (thank you, by the way)…but it’s falling on deaf ears.

I haven’t written—really written—in months.

I’ll be the first one to tell you I’m not a creative type. I don’t obsess about my “craft” because I don’t have a craft to obsess about. It’s simple. I like smut. And I like writing quality smut that resonates with people. I’m pretty sure I’ve done that.

At some point, I’m sure I’ll do it again.

Now is not that point.

Broken Woman

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Book Release: Hostile Spankover!

Hostile Spankover - CoverSo, my newest release with Jack Crosby—Hostile Spankover!answers the question, “What happens when a couple of authors with similar (somewhat juvenile) senses of humor and a shared love for erotica and the movie Die Hard dare each other to write the craziest, most outlandish smut novel in the history of ever?”

I mean, we’ve all asked that question. Right??

Simply put, Jack and I were on a crazy writing spree at the end of last year. Punch drunk from late nights spent writing and a few too many bacon benders, we started talking about how most erotica seemed to take itself too seriously. But what about those readers who love a nice one-handed read and who also enjoy some serious laughs with their naughtiness?

On that fateful day, Hostile Spankover! was born. For those of you who may be used to our other collaborations—Rules of the Wild and Running Wild—please note that Hostile Spankover! is a major departure from our typical style. This one isn’t for everyone. And we’re cool with that.

You’ve been warned. 😉

Please enjoy this blurb and an excerpt from the ballsiest smut novel you’ll ever lay your hands on!

I give you….Hostile Spankover!


Bond. Bourne. McClane. Stryker?

Special Agent Gabriel Stryker has a penchant for packing heat, thwarting his enemies, and dropping awful puns. And not necessarily in that order. When an international weapons dealer sets his sights on pulling a major job in New York City on New Year’s Eve, it’s up to Stryker to get to the bottom of his nefarious plan before the clock strykes zero.

With the help of his not-so-ex-girlfriend and intrepid, acid-tongued reporter, Vikki Phoenix, Stryker will need to call on every last bit of awesomeness–and the occasional spanking–to keep Vikki on the straight and narrow and out of harm’s way. Get in on the action as the FBI, the CIA, and a host of the wildest characters ever to grace the pages of a one-handed read join forces to maintain law and order in a city on the verge of going to hell in a hand basket.

To make a long story short, this ain’t your typical “wink wink” read. Consider yourself warned.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains terrible puns, two ridiculous main characters who totally deserve each other, a lot of the hot n’ heavies, and a poor soul whose name is not Manny but that’s tragically what we’ll all remember him by. Reader discretion is advised.

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Excerpt:

Back at the station, I scrolled through all the police reports and the articles the major papers had released over the past day about the incident at the café. Most of what I found were weak-ass regurgitations of the same story I’d scooped not even eighteen hours ago.

The sketchy details remained the same. Apparent contract hit. Eurotrash dipshits of unknown origins. Both presumably shot and killed by the very targets they’d been sent to kill. A shitload of glass and freaked out customers left in the wake of the incident. And, if I’d really seen what I thought I saw while on site, what was Stryker doing there? And what was I going to do about it if it was him?

But first things first…

Work the problem, Vik. Trace it back and work it, I talked myself up, taking a sip of the mud in a mug that the station insisted was coffee. Wincing after witnessing the parting of the oil slick resting atop the viscous liquid, I swallowed the vile brew and ran my fingers through my hair. The adrenaline I’d been coasting on had long since waned and I just needed a solid hit of caffeine to jolt me back into action.

Christ, what I wouldn’t give for some nice imported Ethiopian or Costa Rican beans. Hell, I’d even drink that fancy Asian cat shit coffee right about now.

Holy hell. Wait a second. That’s the angle I needed to pursue. These guys weren’t from the States and they would’ve had to come through border control at some point.  Snagging my phone, I ran through my contacts until I found the name I was looking for. J. Jeffrey – Immigration and Customs.

Girding my loins and gearing up for the performance of my life, I dialed him. The phone barely rang once before he picked up.

“H-hello? Vikki? Is that you?” If I didn’t know we were the exact same age—we’d graduated from high school in the same class—based on the cracking in his voice, I would’ve pegged Jeffrey as a pubescent teenager.

“Oh, Jeffrey Jeffrey Jeffrey…” The worst part of my opening gambit was that repeating his name oh-so-seductively wasn’t a rhetorical ploy. The poor son of bitch was actually named Jeffrey Jeffrey Jeffrey. Needless to say, his parents were total dicks. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy. Long time, no talk to, huh?”

“Um, yeah, Vikki. So, what do you need this time?” The best part about Jeff Cubed was that he knew when to get down to brass tacks. The only possible reason I’d be calling him would be to pump him for information, so why beat around the bush with the whole “what’ve you been up to lately” crap?

“You hear about the guys who got popped at that café in Midtown yesterday? They’re not from the States and I was hoping you might be able to work some of your magic to see if we could get some identifications on them?”

“Oh, yeah. I saw your report on the news last night…you looked great, by the way,” he murmured, the breath catching nervously in his throat.

“Aw, thanks, Jeff. So,” I refocused on the task at hand, “think you might be able to get me something on these guys?”

“Um, yeah. Sure. I can try. Are you, uh, are you still offering the same, uh, deal as before?”

“Oh, Jeffrey, aren’t you the naughty one? If it works for you, it works for me, big guy.” Pro tip: it never hurt to call a man who barely measured up to your chin “big guy.” First off, it was sure to grease the wheels and get a faster response. Plus, based on some high school rumors, apparently our dark horse Mister Thrice Jeffrey was packing some heat in those off-brand polyester slacks of his.

“Yeah, give me a few and let me see what I can dig up for you. I’ll call you in a bit, okay?”

“Sounds great, Jeff. And thanks. Thanks a lot,” I replied, my tone finally indicating my gratefulness to my old classmate.

After hanging up, I had a little time to kill and nobody to put on blast for the moment. Given how exhausted I was, a few minutes strolling down memory lane couldn’t hurt, right? I popped open the cache of photos on my phone and thumbed through until I got to a batch from a few years back. And there he was.

Gabriel Stryker, in all his drool-worthy glory. I might’ve been the sexy darling of nighttime news in this city, but Gabe was the gritty, ripped, hot-as-shit god of sex that kept this darling in line. We were one of those couples that was so goddamned good-looking, we would probably have been doomed to have the world’s ugliest kids, just on principle.

Even though the memories hurt—nobody liked getting spurned for a badge—it didn’t mean I couldn’t be self-indulgent for a moment. And Christ, was he decadence itself. Gabe wrapping his arms around me from behind. Kissing my neck as I took a selfie. Running his bearded chin along my temple as we skated at Rockefeller Center. Sipping champagne together at dozens of brunches and dinners. Screwing my brains out in an ill-advised, blurry, naked action shot.

Reckless or not, I was glad I hadn’t deleted that last one. It was all the proof I needed that what we’d had was real. And that there was a time when there was a man in my life strong enough to take me in hand and make me his. To burn me to the ground with the intensity of his love and to help me rise up from the ashes.

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Sparing the Rod…or Not: A Wicked Daddy-Inspired Story

Seductive MouthHello all!

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a naughty little story about one of Wicked Daddy‘s glass training rods. My dear friend WD had been feeling under the weather and I was convinced that a bit of smut was the best medicine! He’s on the mend now, so it must’ve worked, right?? 😉

But, as it turns out, one story wasn’t nearly enough to cover such a delightful, versatile set of toys. Soooo….in other words, I couldn’t stop thinking about them and just had to get this titillating tale down so I could share it with all of you!

I do hope you enjoy this one. And while it’s not intrinsically linked to the first story (nor are they the same characters), due to the shift in point of view (sub v. Dom), I think you may find it fun to read both together. 😉

Enjoy and happy reading! 🙂


When he’d placed the five rods on the bed earlier in the day, fanning them out across a towel in all their glory, his goal was to create a visual display to reinforce her submission. The narrowest of the implements, the #1, was about an inch across—not overly intimidating for his adventurous baby girl—but the largest of the set was nearly two inches wide and was guaranteed to elicit a visceral reaction from her.

He had no intention of using #5 on her—not quite yet—but its very presence during her training would keep her mindful of the limits to which he could and would stretch her. This presentation was the final mental gambit designed to bring her to her knees and to willingly offer up the dark treasure of her gorgeous ass for his use.

While he could’ve commanded her to submit to training whenever and however he wished, the delayed gratification was proving to be a strong aphrodisiac. The thought of her begging him to stretch her ass—to fill her with his cock—was a stimulus that never failed to get him hard, day after wonderfully agonizing day. And by continually denying her requests to begin her anal training in earnest, he was stoking a need in her that would pay dividends once he started her on the path.

He’d been planting ideas in her fertile mind for the past month, sinking his finger into her tight bottom as he’d fucked her mind into a place beyond temptation. Her deep seated need to be fully claimed gradually became apparent in the plaintive mewls and grunts that escaped her lips as he slowly, methodically teased and stretched her tight passage. All the while, he listened to and absorbed the chorus of her desire with rapt attention, becoming the maestro of her darkest fantasies.

Months ago, she’d come to him with mixed emotions about anal penetration, equal amounts of fear and curiosity wrestling with each other in her sharp mind. She’d been hurt before and wasn’t eager for a repeat of the painful, unprepared experience. Once bitten, twice shy, it was therefore tasked to him to divest her of her prior experiences in order to imprint himself on her body in the most fulfilling and all-consuming way possible. The undertaking was one of the most challenging and delicate he’d ever assumed.

And she was worth it.

Her time had come.

“Join me, little one. Up on the bed and present.” He called her in from the living room where he’d left her, nude and squirming, to contemplate the fate that awaited her. Ravenous anticipation hung in the air, thick and syrupy, as a barely audible squeak slipped from her trembling lips. His cock twitched, noting the momentary pause as she approached the bed, saw the tools he’d set out for her, and got into position.

Her bold bravery blended with the tiniest traces of trepidation at what was to come and he savored every delicious moment of her predicament. As a dominant, these were the moments he lived for, the ones he most cherished, the ones he stored away and recalled during moments of solitude.

As she took up position on the bed—knees spread wide apart, bottom low, and with her hands spreading her cheeks apart for his inspection—he noted goose bumps erupting across her forearms and pert ass. Despite keeping the room warm for her comfort, the central heating was no match for her nerves and it seemed as though her overactive imagination was beginning to kick into high gear. It was his cue to intervene.

“Shh. Calm now, my little one,” he purred, trailing a hand across her exposed hip and squeezing her cheek possessively. “You’re quite nervous about your training, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled into the sheets, respectful as always.

“But yet you also want this, need this, crave this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she admitted, finally releasing the breath she’d been holding since she’d taken up position on the bed.

“Then you shall have it, little one.” He took the opportunity to grab the corner of the towel and slide the rods toward the edge of the bed, just out of her line of sight. Screwing the lid off the jar of coconut oil he’d left on the nightstand, he continued to delve into the hazy headspace he’d been cultivating.

“Does my little one think she can take the biggest rod in her tight little ass by the time I’m done with her tonight?” Although he knew his question to be rhetorical, he wanted to jolt her into the proper frame of mind, to get her beyond her fears, to reassure her that she was his most precious possession and that he would never harm her. But first, he needed her complete submission.

She didn’t keep him waiting.

“If Daddy thinks I can take it, I will take it.”

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered, stroking her lower back with one hand while he grabbed the #2 rod and twisted it into the oil jar. “Well, Daddy’s going to start with the smallest and then see how far we can go tonight, little one.”

It was a white lie, but one that suited his goals nicely by bolstering her resolve and eventually instilling her with a sense of pride once he revealed to her what he’d done. If he ever did.

A devilish smirk curled its way across his lips as he used the very tip of the smooth rod to swirl and melt the oil around her tight ring. “You know, funny enough, I’ve always framed this as Daddy training his baby girl’s ass,” he explained as he dipped an inch of the rod inside her and held still, “but the truth of the matter is that, at least for now, you’re going to be training your own ass to please your Daddy.”

Her body tensed with uncertainty, her taut bud clenching around the thick toy he’d teased inside her. He didn’t leave her waiting long for an explanation.

“I’m going to hold the rod in place and you’re going to fuck it for me. You’re going to fuck it as long, as hard, and as deep as you can take it. And you’re going to make your Daddy proud, aren’t you, little one?”

Even as she nodded, breathing a rasped yes, Sir and not bothering to disguise her trademark enthusiasm, she began to slide her hips backward. As her snug asshole swallowed the first few inches of the rod, a low moan escaped her lips and a single dewdrop of her arousal trailed its way down her inner thigh.

Though they were just beginning the journey together, he’d already come to the realization that his little one would learn to savor the unique pleasures of truly sublime anal play. And, if her first confident strokes were any indication of her devotion to him and his tutelage, she would never disappoint him.

Looking down at the other rods splayed out alongside his little one, he cautiously eyed #5 and wondered…wondered if he might be able to test the strength of her conviction.

The night was young. She was perfection itself. And she was all his.


Glass Rods, 1

Triple Play Q&A with J.B. Crown

J. B. Crown MiniHello all!

I’ve got quite a special guest with me on today’s Triple Play Q&A author spotlight in that I consider him not only a talented author, but also a dear friend. While J.B. Crown and I may never have met in person, we’ve spent considerable time discussing the nuances of writing and erotic fiction, fond memories of our respective travels and well-executed office pranks, and why Romancing the Stone might very well be the most perfect movie in the history of ever! 

After publishing a number of sexy, heartfelt erotic short stories, J.B. has just released his first full full-length novel—S.I.R.E.N.S—and it’s available on Amazon now! 

If you’re looking for your next great read, or simply hoping to spend a few minutes getting to know one of the wittiest authors I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, look no further!

Welcome to the Triple Play Q&A, J.B.!


Hi there, I’m erotic short story (and now full length novelist) writer, J. B. Crown. I’ve been on quite a journey to reach my present life situation. People who ask about my background as an erotic author, are often dumbfounded when they discover I was once a church minister! My early twenties saw me temporarily leave my native England to attend an Evangelical bible college in the USA. From there I spent some time as a minister and missionary in the Caribbean, Africa, and back home. Between that and becoming an erotica author, there were fifteen years in policing and four as an independent consultant to the service. From chandelier-swinging bible thumper to literary-swinging smut scribe. There’s a fair story in the middle of all that, as you might expect…

I have written in different genres under other names. Erotica is a fairly new topic for me, and one that I decided to explore out of curiosity more than anything else. Originally it seemed like a fun vehicle for knocking out (pun intended) quick and easy ‘splooge lit,’ for those who just enjoy a bit of disposable titillation. However, along the way I found myself increasingly burning with a desire to get a proper story in there too, and take my characters further. My new work, ‘S.I.R.E.N.S’ does just that, marking a significant divergence from earlier pieces as a full-length erotic action/adventure romance novel.

S.I.R.E.N.S Mini‘S.I.R.E.N.S’ has a bit of everything: action, adventure, chases, escapes, gunfights, betrayal, revenge, hand to hand combat, big World War 2 set pieces, an accurate historical setting, romance, loss, sentimentality, hot sex covering a variety of tastes and topics, plus an ongoing central love story woven throughout.

It is often said that writers never finish their books, they only abandon them. As big-headed as this might unfortunately sound, ‘S.I.R.E.N.S’ is actually everything I dreamt it could be while formulating the concept. I am very happy with the final product. Hopefully my readers will be too!

The book gave me an opportunity to do something I have wanted for a long time: write a fictional, sexy adventure story featuring the women of S.O.E – the British Special Operations Executive formed at the behest of Winston Churchill to conduct clandestine warfare against the Axis.

The role of women in conflict at that time was largely communications, logistics and nursing; not front-line fighting. S.O.E. had around 3,200 female staff, many of whom became agents and made the ultimate sacrifice overseas in a job with a life expectancy of only six weeks. With 2018 being the year in which we celebrate the centenary of women’s suffrage, it seemed the ideal moment for my project.

In the book, you will meet four incredible young ladies from diverse backgrounds and places: Elsa Vogl (Austria), Sophie Mayeaux (France), Jessica Martin (England), and Carlotta Bianchi (Italy). Their individual backstories and mutual hatred of the Nazis bring them together, just as S.O.E. are forming a special, dedicated female unit called ‘S.I.R.E.N.S.’ The squad is being created for one audacious mission that dovetails with the ‘Crossbow’ operations already being conducted. It is expected to be a ‘one night stand’ in every sense of the term, almost certainly proving terminal for the new recruits.

FUN FACT: My best friend and I once performed an emergency, rough weather light aircraft landing at Altenrhein airfield in Switzerland, which features in the book. Visibility had dropped to almost nothing, and a rainstorm swept across from the Pfänder in Austria (a mountain I have hiked down and which overlooks Elsa’s fictitious village). We came in too high, but there was no time for a go-around in the rapidly deteriorating conditions. Just as we put the Cessna down on the deck, a heavy crosswind picked us up at an angle and slammed the bird back into the tarmac. We were both okay, but it knocked out our landing lights.

Thanks for the candid, riveting introduction, J.B.! I can’t decide who I’d rather meet in person, your incredible heroines or you! 😉 And now it’s time for your Triple Play!

What does your writing space look like when you’re in the thick of a project?

I like a calm, reasonably tidy environment and usually write in my study. I’m not one for scribbling on bits of paper (though I used to be), typically penning rough ideas onto an iPad which sits alongside my laptop for reference.

If you want to know what my writing space looks like at the end of the current book, you will find a photo below. Sitting on the laptop is a proper Fairbairn-Sykes British commando fighting knife, as given-to and used-by the ‘S.I.R.E.N.S’ in the book.PC FS Mini

What are three things you can’t live without and why?

SOLITUDE – I’m an introvert and HSP, so it’s like air to me!

BUCOLIC SURROUNDINGS – I enjoyed my time living in Dallas and other places, but I suffer if away from the rustic environs of home for too long. I’m an English country boy from Kent, otherwise known as ‘The Garden of England.’ I live in a little country town that pre-dates the Roman invasion, and went to school on a farm in a picturesque valley near where Julius Caesar camped.

FISH & CHIPS – Once you’ve had proper English Fish & Chips, life is never the same again.

If you ran into your thirteen year-old self, what piece of solid advice would you give him?

My thirteen year-old self? That would have to be: tugging is a lot more fun when a girl is doing it for you! (Can I say that on this blog?)*

Honestly, I’ve often pondered a question like this. When I look at the choices I have made, I know my life could look a lot different (not to mention financially more prosperous) had I been given pointers by my older self. Yet at the same time, those choices made me who I am today. There are things I missed out on that others enjoyed, yet I have done more with my life than many of those people ever will. Classic: ‘you pays your money and you takes your choice,’ I suppose.

If there was a solid piece of advice for my thirteen year-old self, it would be this: ‘Time passes quickly. Don’t be afraid to try something new.’

Life naturally gets in the way, and mundane activities cause weeks, months and years to blur into one. That’s just a necessary part of our existence, unless you’re lucky enough to be minted and have servants! It’s when I look back that I notice life seems less ‘wasted’ as I reflect on the new experiences I had a go at. It can be something as small as visiting a different restaurant, attending an event I’ve never been to, trying an unusual hobby I might not have considered before etc. I’m the kind of person who finds comfort in the calm and familiar. Yet, it’s the times I’ve pushed myself out of that comfort zone (for whatever reason) that new vistas have eventually opened up with their associated joy and life rewards. It’s advice I still need to remind myself of.

Jaye’s Notes: Yes, you can. You most certainly can. 😉


TSC Cover MiniThank you, J.B., for joining me today for the Triple Play Q&A, and congratulations on your new release! I’ve already got my copy loaded on my Kindle and ready to go! I’m hopeful that you, dear readers, have gotten a taste of J.B. Crown’s humor, intelligence, and charm. Please give his writing a go—you won’t be disappointed! If you’d like to find out even more about J.B., are curious to see a promo trailer for S.I.R.E.N.S., or would be interested in picking up some of his fantastic publications, please click around the links below and go to town!

Obeying Him: A Wicked Daddy-Inspired Story

Glass Rods, 2Hello all!

For those of you who’ve followed my blog for a bit, you’ll have heard of my dear friend, Wicked Daddy. You may also have had an opportunity to read some of my sexy stories inspired by his amazing, naughty toys! Well, WD had a bit of a health scare over the weekend and is under doctor’s orders to take it easy and to make some time for relaxation. And, in my mind, what better way to relax than with a bit of smut, right?? 😉 *insert fiendish laugh here*

This story is slightly different than my typical writing and I’m curious to hear what you think of it. Feel free to drop me a line when you’ve got a moment.

Now, without further ado, this one’s for you, Wicked Daddy! Rest up and enjoy!


I want you to hold this for me, little one.

When he’d whispered the words in my ear just over an hour ago, it had seemed such an innocent request. And when he extended the nine-inch clear glass rod in my direction, my instinct was to reach out my hand. But my instinct was wrong…and I quickly found out exactly how wrong I was.

Now—face down, ass up on his bed—as he buries the greased rod snugly in my bottom, twisting and pumping it firmly into my most private hole, it occurs to me that Daddy isn’t entirely devoid of a sense of humor. Because not only does he want me to hold it for him, but his expectation is that I maintain control of the rod for a full hour without letting it fall to the mattress beneath me.

This is a game for him—for us­—a test of wills he will inevitably win. He always does. But, oh, how he loves to give me the illusion of having a fighting chance.

As my tight ass clenches around the rod, appreciating its weight and depth, I soon realize that each nervous twitch, each shift in position, and each errant suckle engages my internal muscles and surrenders a fraction of the smooth probe from the sheath of my body, getting ever closer to failure. And despite the sheen of perspiration cooling across my exposed back, I know that only about ten minutes have passed since we started. It’s far too soon to admit defeat, far too soon to lose this challenge.

I’d hate to disappoint Daddy.

Unfortunately, there’s no way for me to be sure how much time has gone by. Determined to deny me any comfort in this scenario, he’s removed my watch and unplugged the alarm clock. The countdown is entirely in his hands. He could keep me like this for hours, if that were his preference. The thrilled frisson of arousal from this little mindfuck forces an inch of the rod out of me. I need to relax if I have any chance of enduring this exquisite dilemma for the full hour.

Although I can’t turn around to meet his eyes, I feel his gaze caressing my backside, searing me with his intensity. Occasionally, he whispers words of encouragement, sotto voce good girls that course through my body, tightening up my core and threatening to dislodge the smooth, well-oiled glass toy he’s placed there for his pleasure.

Judging by his soft footfalls, the distance of his voice, and the clicking of his thumbnail against the ridges of a crystal tumbler, he’s poured himself a drink and has taken up position in the plush seat in the corner. Daddy is determined to enjoy the show. This is one instance in which I’m actually happy I’m pinned in place, this time by precarious predicament as opposed to the rigid restraints he typically favors. We both know that if I were able to sneak a glimpse of him, I’d inevitably see the smooth black cane perched across his thighs, my inevitable punishment for failure laid out in the starkest terms possible. The full body shudder I’d undoubtedly experience would send the rod plummeting to the mattress and the biting penance would commence.

Determined to give him the obedience he deserves, I focus on my surroundings in an attempt to relax and to will the rod to stay right where he put it. After a deep, cleansing breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, limiting my senses and eliminating any excess stimuli. With my face pressed into the bed, the fresh smell of the crisp sheets blends with the comforting scent of his single malt scotch wafting from across the room. The cool air crisscrossing my exposed flesh and pussy is a welcome reprieve from the heat emanating from my core. A soft groan and the sound of his hand brushing across the fabric of his pants tells me this little game we’re playing is making him hard. That telling insight steels my resolve and my tight little asshole clutches the rod as firmly as I can.

It is from within this complex, seductive miasma of submissive bliss and struggle that I come to the ultimate realization about Daddy. And about myself.

There are no winners or losers in this battle, only dominance and submission in their purest forms. If I last the hour, I will have obeyed Daddy’s command, made him proud, and—if he’s feeling generous—earned a soul-penetrating orgasm. However, if I allow the rod to drop, I will have disobeyed him, disappointed him, and will have earned the punishment I know he’s desperate to give me.

But either way, I have the power in this situation. Daddy has entrusted his little one to do what needs to be done—to give myself the experience I need—thereby providing him the opportunity to exert his dominance in the way my submission demands. What once seemed the illusion of choice is now the empowering knowledge that I am the only one who can balance our dynamic, the only one who holds the key to who we are when we’re at our best. And the hard, unyielding, yet comforting toy he’s buried in my ass is a tangible reminder of everything we share.

With a final sigh and a conscious disregard for the clock ticking its way toward the hour mark, I stop struggling to hold the rod. If it falls, it falls. If it stays, it stays. One way or another, I’m going to give him the submission he needs from me.

And as the glass slides its way out of my slightly stretched bottom, inch by smooth inch, and I hear the light tsk tsks from my Daddy, I can’t be bothered to hide the smile creeping its way across my lips.

Because I’m submissive. And I’m all his.

Glass Rods, 1

Triple Play Q&A with Stella Blanche

29066346_2047874718870481_7284406096138076160_oHello all!

For today’s Triple Play Q&A author spotlight, I’ll be featuring my first author from the lovely nation of South Africa! Stella Blanche, author of Under His Control, is my guest today and I couldn’t be more thrilled to have her join me! She’s going to be talking about some of her favorite reads, “researching” for her sexy books, kink, works in progress…you name it! She even managed to sneak in a shout out for one of the books I co-authored with Jack Crosby! What an honor! 🙂

Welcome, Stella! 


29063327_2047874392203847_2531847478274162688_oI am from a very small town in South Africa—living amongst very intriguing yet small-minded people. I am married to the love of my life and we have two beautiful little princesses and a chocolate lab—who thinks he is about the size of mouse, but he’s a monster in actual fact…. I love all aspects of my life—even with all the ups and downs as it molds you into the person you are. I am a Sales Manager by day and erotica writer at night. I have been writing since I was twelve—although back then it was all fairy tales and garden gnomes type of writing.

Under His Control is my first published book on sale and I am so proud of this story as I have been working on it since 2015. I have a bunch of WIP and a few of them are available and FREE to read on Wattpad. I am currently working on a werewolf spanking book which would have you howling for more and I’m hoping it would see the light before the South African winter sets in. Another WIP I am also working on is a dark romance with a lot of hot guys, hot girls, and obviously some delicious discipline scenes. I hope to get enough followers to—eventually, one day—become a full time writer.

Thanks for sharing, Stella! Time for your Triple Play!

What’s the best part about being an author?

I’d say it is the fact that there is a piece of you out there in the world and when you pass onto the next life, there will always be something of you left behind. I also love that you can be anyone you want to be when writing—especially when you are an erotica writer. You can be wild or shy or promiscuous—you can live out any fantasy you want through writing, you can live through your characters and THAT is what makes it so precious.

29101469_2047875035537116_3611199543175020544_oCan you name a couple of your “desert island” books and why you chose them?

At the top of that list would HAVE to be the Masters and Mercenaries bundle by Lexi Blake. These books taught me so much about the BDSM world—it opened my eyes to a permanent ménage relationship and I read them at least once a month. Next one the list would be Wilbur Smith’s Warlock. This book was handed down to me by my dad because he knew how in love I was with anything to do with Ancient Egypt and it was the first book I read with sex scenes in—so there is that. And last would have to be Rules of the Wild by Jaye Elise and Jack Crosby. I was completely hooked on the TV series ‘Men in Trees’, that whole rugged manly men running wild in Alaska had me fantasizing A LOT and then this book came out and I could just lose myself in the pages.**

What is something most people don’t know about you?

Most people don’t know that I am a kinky person and erotic writer—I mean they know I write books with loads of sex in them, but I don’t think they know how much research goes into it. We read a lot of other erotic novels, we Google, we buy sex toys to write about and the best part is that we have to experience—the worst mistake a writer could make is writing about something they know nothing about or have never experienced… Luckily for me, Mr. B is just as adventurous and curious as I am so I never really have a problem living out my fantasies and “doing” research.

**Awww, shucks! Thanks, Stella!


Thank you, Stella, for joining me for this week’s Triple Play Q&A and for being such a candid guest! It’s been a real pleasure getting to know you better! If you’d like to find out even more about Stella, or would be interested in picking up some of her fantastic publications, please click around the links below and go to town!

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Weebles Wobble…

Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down.

Weeble

Ahhh, Weebles. These little toys predate yours truly, but their signature catchphrase has been running through my mind for the past month or so. For those of you who have even a cursory knowledge of my blogging style, you know how difficult it is for me to share any details about myself.* The good Midwestern girl in me is reticent to open up, to bare myself, to surrender to self-indulgent emotionalism. It goes against the grain of everything I’ve always known. But Christ on a cracker. Sometimes the reed must bend lest it break…and baby, this reed is going full-on yoga instructor in a wind tunnel! So perhaps it’s a good time to crack open the door again and let you all have a little peek.

In so many ways, and even though we’re only a few months in, 2018 has been the most challenging year of my life. And the blows keep raining down, sending me reeling off-kilter and making me feel like a stranger in my own skin. Personally, professionally, creatively…nothing feels safe or off-limits anymore.

It’s unsettling at best.

That being said, I may very well be wobbling, but I won’t fall down. For every challenge and obstacle I’ve come across this year, I can also look to the wonderful new friends I’ve made, to the moments of laughter and joy I experience each and every day, and to the slivers of peace I can carve out of even the most mundane goings-on.

So, to all of you out there who’ve helped to keep this wobbling Weeble from falling down, thanks for the support, the friendship, and the happiness. When the worst is over, I’m confident I’ll be a better woman for all of this. And for all those who’ve graciously filled my cup (and even those who haven’t), when the time comes, there’s a serious ray of sunshine headed your way, so gird your loins and prepare to get wobbled yourself!

Of course, this begs the question why I choose to blog in the first place, but that’s a story for another time, folks! 😉

Triple Play Q&A with Tia Lee

28534586_395425887585187_1949056413_nHello all!

For this week’s Triple Play Q&A author spotlight, I’ve got author Tia Lee with me to talk about her debut novel and a whole lot more!

Welcome to the Triple Play, Tia, and thank you for joining me!


Hi! This is author Tia Lee. I am a self-published author and live in one of the most humid places in the USA: Houston, TX, but I love it here (sans the humidity of course.) My debut novel is Vermilion Tears. It is a Victorian gothic paranormal, that starts with a normal girl, until vampires, werewolves, and witches show up. I absolutely loved writing this book and it will always be my book baby. I am currently writing a novel about a self-absorbed mob wife, who has aspirations of being at the top herself. Not sure when it will be out yet.

Nice to meet you, Tiaand now it’s time for your Triple Play Q&A!

28696160_395425800918529_636601050_oWhat inspired you to write Vermilion Tears?

I loved reading Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles and it inspired me to read more vampire novels. I read the Twilight series and then Dracula. While I was in the middle of reading Dracula I actually had this really vivid dream which is where the idea of Vermilion Tears came from. It was kind of terrifying from the dream perspective. I hope I captured it in the book.

If you were a character in a book or series of books, who would you be and why?

This is hard because the type of books and characters I love the best have rough lives. I’ll go with Hermione Granger. She is resourceful, smart, and fiercely loyal. Also, magic would be nice to control.

What’s your adult beverage of choice?

My favorite is hands down is Ménage A Trois wine. It’s a blend of three red wines and my new favorite they make is Midnight. It is so smooth and reasonably priced. They also make a chardonnay if you like white!


Thank you for joining me today, Tia! It’s been wonderful getting to know more about you and your work…and your taste in wine! 😉 If you’d like to find out even more about Tia, or would be interested in picking up some of her fantastic books, please click around the links below and go to town!

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Triple Play Q&A with Magali Fréchette

Magali 4Hello all!

This week’s Triple Play Q&A featured author is Magali Fréchette, my favorite Canadian speed reader and hunt-and-peck typist extraordinaire! (You’ll get it once you’ve had a read…) 😉

I’m thrilled to have her join me and I hope you enjoy getting to learn more about Ms. Fréchette and her first novel, My Soul to Give.

Welcome to the Triple Play, Magali!


My name is Magali, but many people call me Mags for short. I’ve lived in three different provinces so far in my life (I keep heading west for whatever reason), but hope to one day move back to where I consider my home to be, in Ottawa, Ontario. Since completing my bachelor’s degree in social sciences with a major in criminology, I’ve had a total of four jobs, and currently work for the federal government. I’m also a freelance cover designer, and have been creating photo manipulations since 2007, and am self-taught.

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Thanks, Mags! And away we go with your three hard-hitting Triple Play questions! 😉

What’s the last book you read that made you cry?

Hmmm…I don’t read many books that make me cry; it’s quite rare, actually. But I believe the last one I read that made me tear up is Ruler’s Concubine by Peri Elizabeth Scott.

When did you first start writing and what drove you to pick up the pen?

I used to write little comic books and small stories for as long as I can remember, but the first real story I wrote was when I was around twelve years old. It was my first year of high school, and I remember my French teacher (I went to a French school, FYI) caught me writing during class, and wanted to see me after. I showed her what I’d written, and after reading the first few pages, started telling me how I had a bunch of grammar mistakes, and basically tore it apart in criticism. I continued writing, but with less enthusiasm than before. I also started writing my stories in English after that. At fifteen years old, I started developing an entire universe of stories. The worlds and timeline, characters and plot. I wrote a bunch of manuscripts throughout the years, all of them just for fun. But my published book was my 19th manuscript and I really wanted to get that one published since it was the first book in that entire universe created so long ago. I’ve just always been writing, and I always will be.

Can you tell us about a hidden talent you have?

Hidden? Not much to say, really. Self-taught artist, and I’m good with advance math, my favorite being algebra when I took that in my last two years of high school. I know a good basic of HTML, and know a lot of information about criminology and psychology. I learn fast, and I’m a speed reader (around 100 pages per hour, and getting faster). Oh, and despite the fact I only type with both my index fingers, I can type 60 words per minute, and don’t need to look at the keyboard. Don’t know if any of those count. lol

Magali 3


Thank you for joining me today, Mags! I’m thinking you’re going to have loads of new fans, not only for your writing, but also for your HUGE skillset and passion about your work! 😀 If you’d like to find out even more about Magali, or would be interested in picking up some of her fantastic books, please click around the links below and go to town!

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Some Naughty Couplets from the Ball

Ball GownOur girl wrapped herself up in glamour and lace,
Painted makeup all over her pretty face.
The sassy Cinderella went to the ball,
But the people there didn’t know her at all.

They’d no idea of the stories within,
Her brain teeming with all manner of titillating sin.
She wanted to sit back and write their tales,
To uncover the naughty truths behind their veils.

Jonathan looked like he enjoyed a nice threesome,
And Mariana secretly craved to take it in the bum.
Steven wished he were there with the gorgeous waiter,
While Jen fought it out with the plug and tried to walk straighter.

But our girl put on her smile and told her jokes,
She giggled with the ladies and flirted with the blokes.
She thought she had them all nailed down,
Until she felt His eyes fixed on her figure and gown.

He watched her from across the room,
Never moving toward her, never dared to assume.
He saw beneath her carefully crafted façade,
Apparently unsure whether to censure or applaud.

Our girl melted beneath his gaze,
Caught red-handed by the only one who knew her crafty ways.
She smoldered and blushed in all her glory,
For she was now the heroine in someone else’s story.