By Ashe Barker (Guest Blogger)
Hi Lisabet, and thank you so much for inviting me back to your blog to chat a bit. Today I thought I’d share some thoughts on my writing and what inspires me.
I have a book out just now which features twins. Identical twins, both Doms, of course, who share a fascination for the same submissive. It’s a historical ménage, but with a bit of a twist towards the end. I’ve been hatching a story about identical twins for some time now as the notion fascinates me. How cool is that? To know there is another person in the world who is your exact double, right down to the DNA. And if the physical characteristics are identical, will twins always share the same personality, preferences, habits, and so on.
There have been lots of studies done over the years to better understand how much of our emotional and psychological make up is down to nurture rather than nature, and it’s clear there are other factors at work. It’s not just about the genes. For example, I personally know identical twins where one has a deep-seated and near crippling phobia about spiders which the other does not share. That said though, there exists overwhelming evidence to suggest that even twins who live apart and rarely if ever meet tend to have very similar lifestyles, career choices, etc., far more than could be explained by simple chance.
For an erotic writer, twins offer endless scope for enjoyment. One can be mistaken for the other, or they could impersonate each other deliberately. I’m sure in real life twins find that sort of sport endlessly entertaining. Or there may be differences between them which are so subtle, so deeply personal and intimate that only their closest partner would recognise them. Or the twins might be so close, so focused on each other that they lock out the rest of the world. How would a new lover or partner fare in such an environment?
Some of these questions are explored in Her Noble Lords. Here’s the blurb.
After eighteen-year-old Linnet Routh is kidnapped from her home in Wellesworth castle by Ralf, the powerful, handsome Earl of Egremont, and his identical twin brother Piers, it quickly becomes clear to her that the seasoned warriors have mistaken her for someone else. Convinced that she is Lady Eleanor, a noblewoman who was promised in marriage to Ralf yet has refused to wed him, the brothers bring Linnet to a church with plans to compel her to speak her vows.
Linnet attempts to steal a horse from Piers and make her escape, but when she is caught her efforts end up earning her a thorough, humiliating bare-bottom spanking. Though terribly embarrassed by the manner of her chastisement, she cannot help becoming helplessly—and shamefully—aroused by the punishment.
When the brothers recognize the truth of Linnet’s claims at last, she expects to be cast aside as a mere commoner. To her surprise, however, they instead offer to make her their shared bride, and despite her misgivings about the idea Linnet agrees to the union. As they each take their turn to claim her, the pleasure of their dominant lovemaking leaves her yearning to be taken long and hard by both of them at once, and soon a passionate romance has grown between Linnet and her noble lords. But when tragedy strikes will it bring a permanent end to their newfound happiness?
Publisher’s Note: Her Noble Lords is an erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including threesomes, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
And of course, we couldn’t move on without sharing a hot excerpt. Linnet is one of the few people who is able to tell the brothers apart, but in this scene they have blindfolded her to remove that ability.
Piers meets my eyes again. “I wonder if we should bind her wrists, too.”
“Please, sir, I would prefer that you do not.” I am not sure why I resist. Perhaps there is a limit on how much vulnerability I am able to endure.
He holds my gaze, his dark brown eyes glinting in the candlelight. “It is not your decision though, is it? You made your choice earlier, when you agreed to marry us. Now, here in our bedchamber, you will simply trust us and obey. Is that not correct, Linnet?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, “of course.”
“Good. But I think we will manage without restraining you further on this occasion. Brother?”
Ralf says nothing, just lays the silk scarf across my eyes and ties it at the back of my head. I am in darkness.
Instinctively I reach out, to find Piers’ solid shoulder. He places his hand over mine. “Easy, little maid, we will take care of you.”
I concentrate on steadying my breathing as Ralf moves in close behind me. His arms are around me, his palms splayed on my stomach. He pulls me back against him then draws his hands up my body to cup my breasts.
I allow my head to rest on his shoulder, enjoying the sensual caress despite my nervousness. Piers gets to his feet and takes my face between his hands. He kisses me, plunging his tongue between my lips. The invasion is intimate, arousing. I lift my hands to loop them behind his neck, glad he opted not to tie my wrists after all.
Ralf nuzzles my neck, nibbling and biting. He lowers one hand to cup the wisps of womanly hair at the apex of my thighs. I widen my stance a little, eager for him to explore further. The heady, unfamiliar sensations of our previous encounter come rushing back, flooding my senses and sweeping any remaining trepidation away on a torrent of pure lust. I am in their hands. Quite literally.
“She is wet.” As if to demonstrate the truth of his discovery, Ralf smears the remnants of my juices across my lower abdomen.
Piers breaks the kiss to murmur in my ear, “Ah, such a wanton little bride. Your cunt drools for us already.”
“I… my lord, I…”
“Shhh, love. This is how it should be, between us.” He moves away and before I can protest, I am lifted and cradled in a pair of arms. It must be Ralf but already I am beginning to be unsure. My husband deposits me on the bed and the mattress dips as he stretches alongside me. His hand is again on my stomach, circling, pressing, working its way lower. As he reaches my curls again, I spread my thighs. He mutters something soft and approving, then slides his fingers between my legs.
The caress is both intimate and shocking but feels divine. I arch my back, offering more, pleading for more. He traces the outline of my quim, dipping the tip of one finger inside. He swirls it around in the entrance to my body to leave me gasping with need.
“Sir, please, please…”
“Please what, little maid? What is it you would like us to do?” It is Piers’ voice but from farther away. He is watching, I know it. Is he at the foot of the bed again, perusing my splayed thighs, enjoying the display as Ralf pleasures me with his playful touch? Or maybe he is seated somewhere in the room, patiently waiting his turn on my body. I dismiss that last notion. There is nothing remotely patient about either man.
“Answer me, Linnet. Tell us what it is you want.” Piers is closer now; the voice comes from somewhere behind my head. The mattress dips again and I know he is here. They are both here.
Ralf shifts. I think he is kneeling now, between my knees. There are hands on my inner thighs, pressing my legs further apart and up toward my chest. I am pinned in position, unable to lower my legs if I wanted to. The sensation is different now, hot and wet, a trail of open-mouthed kisses along my inner thigh. Surely he cannot, they would not—
“Ah,” I gasp as a mouth closes over my most intimate spot. It is Ralf. Maybe. I am not quite sure any more. As suddenly as the sensation commenced, it has stopped. The mattress dips and shifts as both men move about. I am rolled onto my stomach, my knees arranged under me, bent to elevate my bottom.
Will they spank me again? The notion excites rather than unnerves me, though I am uncertain what transgression I might have committed.
Neither speaks and I am sure this is deliberate, another ploy to confuse me. It has worked but I do not care. I am focused only on my needy quim and the overwhelming desire that they touch me again. Soon.
I grunt as a hand grips my hair and yanks back my head. “Open your mouth.”
It is Ralf’s voice but I do not know if it is his hand in my hair. No matter, I obey the command.
The smooth head of a cock brushes my lips. It has a musky scent, and leaves a moist trail across my mouth. I poke out my tongue to lick it.
“Good girl.” The grip on my hair tightens. It is painful now, really hurting but it never occurs to me to protest. Instead, I strain to push my head forward to take the cock into my mouth.
“Wait. You shall have it when we are ready.” Ralf again, his tone clipped and stern. I pause in my efforts, contenting myself with lapping at the juices leaking from the wide, flared head which teases me, dangling just out of reach.
An arm circles my stomach and lifts my bottom up even higher. A hand, from the front, spreads my nether lips whilst another hand caresses me from behind. Fingers thrust into me, in and out, in and out, first two, then more, three perhaps, or even four. It is uncomfortable, stretching me until my entrance burns with the pressure but still I am bucking and writhing within his grip, their grip, wanting more.
The fingers, which have been holding the lips of my quim open, now slide back to circle my most sensitive spot. They press there, squeeze, rub. I am shaking from the rush of pure pleasure as the feeling builds and crests, just as it did the other time. On this occasion though | know what to expect. I will not be taken by surprise this time.
“Oh, sir, that feels so good. I want…”
“Wait!” The command is punctuated by a hard slap on my bottom and the hand in my hair twists savagely. “We will tell you when to take your release.”
“But I cannot help it. If you touch me there, I will—”
“You will control yourself, or bear the consequences.” It might be Ralf’s voice. I am no longer certain. What I am sure of, though, is that I must do as I am told, however difficult that may be.
I squeeze my inner muscles around the fingers once more thrusting inside my clenching channel, which elicits a low chuckle. I have no idea which of my men it is but I do it again. The sounds of my arousal are unmistakable as the fingers plunge in and out and I cringe with humiliation that they should hear such damning testimony of what a trollop I am. Despite my mortification, my arousal builds again and threatens to overwhelm me. I am beyond desperate, dreading the thrashing I know it will earn me but helpless to stem the flow of lust now gathering at my core.
I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. I still love reading, the hotter the better. But now I have a good excuse for my guilty pleasure – research.
I tend to draw on my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.
When not writing – which is not very often these days - my time is divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, tortoises. And a very grumpy cockatiel.
I have around thirty titles on general release, with publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, and several more in the pipeline. All my books feature BDSM. I write explicit stories, always hot, but they offer far more than just sizzling sex. I like to read about complex characters, and compelling plots, so that’s what I write too. Strong, demanding Doms are a given, often paired with new submissives who have a lot to learn.
I have a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keep thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from me.
I love to hear from readers. You can find me on my blog, and on the Totally Bound site. I’m on Facebook, and twitter and now on Tsu as well. I’m on Pinterest too, and Goodreads