I’ve got a new release! Hearts & Handcuffs just hit the virtual shelves yesterday. This 20K collection of short stories is subtitled “Romantic Kink”, which is a pretty accurate description. No heavy messages or crises of trust in this volume, just tales of people who connect via their mutually complementary kinky fantasies.
You’ll find the blurb and an exclusive excerpt below. Hope you like it!
Leave me a comment (don't forget to include your email address!) and I’ll enter you into a drawing for a $5 bookstore gift certificate!
Are you ready for your spanking? You know you want it...
Kink can be life-changing, cathartic, a spiritual experience. Sometimes, though, it’s just plain fun—particularly when your partner is someone special. Hearts & Handcuffs presents the lighter side of BDSM—the naughty joy to be found in exploring your pervy fantasies with someone whose desires complement your own—in six sizzling short stories that showcase Lisabet Sarai’s famously sexy prose.
In “Spank-o-gram”, a grumpy birthday boy receives an unexpected gift from his distant lover. “Wired” shows the extremes a woman will go to in order to get the attention of the man she wants. A neglected and frustrated slave turns the tables on her master in “Domestic Goddess”. In “Spank Me Again, Stranger”, a city gal learns how they celebrate birthdays out in ranch country. A case of mistaken identity leads to a dream come true in “Routine Maintenance”. The title tale “Hearts and Handcuffs” is a Valentine’s Day role playing romp, complete with costumes.
Open the cover, dive into Lisabet Sarai’s imagination—the ultimate aphrodisiac—and savor these gems of romantic kink.
“Spank-o-gram for Mr. Sandberg.”
The voice was deep, but definitely female. My curiosity got the better of my caution. I opened the door. A tall woman of uncertain age wearing a gray uniform and carrying a clipboard glared at my tee shirt and gym shorts.
“You are Mr. Sandberg?” Her tone suggested that if I weren't, I'd better have a darn good excuse.
“Um—uh—yeah, that's me.” I was taking her in—all six feet of her. Her hair, a violent red that reminded me of those old troll dolls, was pulled into an old-fashioned twist. Her suit jacket strained with the effort of containing her full breasts. The skirt of her uniform stretched equally tight over her ample hips. Her face was all angles—high cheekbones, prominent nose, square chin—attractive in a ferocious sort of way. She resembled a female Genghis Khan.
“Vell, are you goink to ask me in?” She poked my chest, interrupting my appreciative reverie. “I do not have all night. I have two more after you.” When I still didn’t answer, she swept past me, obviously tired of waiting. As she strode into my living room, I noted the way her curve of her ass distorted her uniform. I'd never seen anyone look less official.
“Two more what?” I followed her, bemused. My cock was hardening inside my shorts. I felt as flustered and uncertain as a teenager.
“I told you. Spank-o-grams.” She set her clipboard down next to my bowl. “Someone ordered one for you. Is your birthday, yes?”
“Ah ... yes...”
“Vell then.” She seated herself on the couch, back straight. Her taut skirt rode up, exposing her meaty thighs. “On my lap. I do not have time to vaste.” I noticed that her eyes were light, a grayish blue the color of Siberian ice. “Unless you vant to lean over a chair...”
“No—um—your lap is fine. But...” I marveled at my daring. “Maybe I could spank you instead?”
“No, no, that is spankee-gram! Much more expensive. Not that this service is cheap, of course. I am the best spanker on the vest coast. Your friend requested me especially. On the Internet.”
'But who...?” I began, though I had some suspicions.
“Anonymous gift.” She cut me short. “Now, get in position. Or do I have to wrestle you down? I vas Commonwealth of Independent States vomen's champion four years in a row...”
I believed her. Would she really force me to take a birthday spanking? I wasn't sure I liked the idea, but my cock did.
“You have ten seconds,” she told me. She arched one eyebrow. “If you're not ready by then, I vill leave.”
“No, no, don't leave!” Awkward and embarrassed by the lump in my shorts, I struggled to arrange myself across her lap. With my chest on the sofa and my pelvis cradled by her warm, well-muscled thighs, my knees didn't quite reach the floor.
Professional that she was, she saw my problem immediately. She tossed a pillow onto the carpet. “Here. Ve don't want any rug burn. No, only your ass should be red.” She laughed at her own pleasantry, a short bark that sent chills up my spine.
Get your copy today!
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01FE2ADB4/
Amazon UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01FE2ADB4/
Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/635210
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