Showing posts with label time travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label time travel. Show all posts

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Two hot new releases from Ashe Barker! #discipline #spanking #VikingRomance @AsheBarker


Today I’m delighted to share snippets of not one but two sizzling new releases from one of my favorite BDSM authors, Ashe Barker. One is contemporary, the other historical/time travel. Both of them are lush, romantic and very, very sexy.

If you enjoy spankings, dominance and discipline as much as I do, read on!

Blurb: Making the Rules

A good, honest, bare-bottom spanking never fails to clear the head

When twenty-five-year-old forensic sociology student Lily Jamison travels to a small town in West Yorkshire to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a young girl, she expects to be working alone. But then Ben Tyler offers his help, and before Lily knows it the handsome former Chicago police officer has taken charge and made it his business to keep her safe, even if that means baring her bottom for a painful, embarrassing spanking when she disobeys him.

Ben’s firm-handed dominance and strict correction leave Lily deeply aroused, and when he takes her in his arms and shows her how a man masters a woman properly, she cannot help begging for more. But as Lily gets closer to the truth, she becomes ever more reckless. When she pushes things too far with her impulsive behavior, will Ben be prepared to punish her as thoroughly and shamefully as necessary to convince her that he is the one making the rules?

Buy Links

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Excerpt: Making the Rules

Ben released his grip on her hand. Lily closed the door to the room behind her and leaned back on it, barely able to believe what she was doing. She’d actually come here, in the middle of the night, to the home of a man, a man near enough a total stranger, to ask him to spank her.

What if he was some sort of deranged madman? A sadist? A pervert? All of the above? She knew next to nothing about Ben Tyler, yet here she was, in his bedroom of all places. And what if he wasn’t content to stop at just a spanking? She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. She shouldn’t be here, she really shouldn’t.

The sudden rush of good sense had barely crystallised in her head before Ben caught her by the shoulders. He whirled her around so her back was pressed against the door and he brought his mouth down across hers in a kiss that quite literally stole her breath away. Stunned momentarily, Lily could only part her lips in response to his demanding pressure, and reeled as he darted his tongue between her teeth. He curled it around hers in a sensuous dance, and her knees buckled.

Ben appeared to sense her imminent collapse and tightened his hold, inserting his knee between her legs to hold her upright. Lily looped her hands together behind his neck and simply hung on.

He broke the kiss after a few moments, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Holy fuck, I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you yesterday.”

Me too,” she whispered, only now allowing that desire to surface and take form. “I wanted… I mean, I thought…”

I know.”

She should have bristled at his response, his confident certainty. Instead, she welcomed it, wanted to drown in it. Craved more of it.

Are we, I mean, should we… Do you want me to take my clothes off?” He had said bare bottom, but she was uncertain just how much nudity that actually meant.

Well, that’d be nice but let’s just check we’re on the same page here.” He lifted his head and took her chin in his palm, angling her face up so she had to meet his gaze. “You’re here because you want to try a spanking. Am I right, Lily?”

Yes,” she whispered. “I was wondering… I mean, it might… I watched some videos.”

Videos?” He grinned at her. “I can imagine. And now you want to try it for yourself. You’re curious, right?”

I suppose so. It’s just… I can’t really explain but I wanted to know how it would feel. How it would make me feel. You said it would relieve stress…”

So curious that you come out, on your own, in the middle of the night?” He lifted one dark blond eyebrow. “Jesus Christ, girl, you’ve fucking earned a spanking for that alone. If you were my submissive you’d get what you deserve and not sit down for a week.”




Blurb: Held in Custody

The best laid plans…

He had no intention of touching her. His job is to protect the community of North Uist in the Outer Hebrides so Police Sergeant Finn Olsen is not about to let some strange woman run around his island brandishing a knife almost as big as she is. The mysterious female soon finds herself Held In Custody, locked up for her own protection. And his.

She is a prisoner in his care, but the more he learns about his unusual captive, the more Finn begins to suspect all is not what it seems. Eira speaks a language long dead, has no idea about modern plumbing, and seems to think he’s a god!

Punished for attempting to escape and putting herself in danger, Eira soon learns that the stern man who has her in his power intends to keep her safe but he expects obedience. Confused, lost, alone, she has no choice but to trust him as her world is thrown into turmoil. But when faced with a menacing threat from the past can Finn protect her? And can they forge a new future together?

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Excerpt: Held in Custody

Eira stiffened. The sensation was so intense she groaned and her knees buckled. She would have slithered boneless to the floor had he not held her up. Then, moments later, her entire body convulsed as her orgasm overwhelmed her.

Eira shook. She was weightless, soaring, then diving toward the ground in an uncontrolled plummet. The myriad lights of a thousand stars flashed behind her eyes as she swooped, then in an instant were extinguished and she saw only blackness. Her heart thumped, her breathing was rapid. She moaned, reached out her hand to caress the cool, smooth surface before her.

It was real. All of this was real. The delightful sensations coursing through her body, the sensual heat of the water which beat down upon her, the muscled forearm across her stomach which held her fast. She stretched, ground her shoulders against the broad, male chest at her back and rubbed her buttocks over the thick cock which jutted insistently against her.

He was real, also. Finn, her god who was not, her more-than-a mortal rescuer who punished and pleasured with equal skill. As her senses regathered Eira turned in his arms.

He curled his lips in a smile, the expression both warm and sensual. She gazed up into the blue of his eyes then reached to lay her fingers against his cheek. She smiled back, and it was on the tip of her tongue to thank him for the pleasure he gave her but instead she stretched up on her toes and brushed her lips over his. Finn's fingers were in her hair and he tilted her head in order to deepen the kiss. His tongue explored the seam of her lips and Eira parted for him. He plunged his tongue into her mouth to tease and dance with hers. It was erotic, intimate, a kiss which promised much and held little back. Lust coiled again deep down in Eira's belly and she lifted one leg to wrap it around his hip.

Finn broke the kiss to murmur a few guttural words. She had heard him make similar utterances already and Eira was convinced that he had said something obscene but she did not care. All she cared about in this moment was that he should not stop, that he should, that he must...

"Please...," she whispered. "Please, I need..."

"Fuck."

Again, that word. Eira lifted her other leg and clamped her ankles together in the small of his back. "Ja, fuck," she repeated. "Please."


More about Ashe Barker

USA Today best-selling author Ashe Barker has been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. She still loves reading, the hotter the better. But now she has a good excuse for her guilty pleasure – research.

Ashe tends to draw on her own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to her plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.

Ashe lives in the North of England, on the edge of the Brontë moors and enjoys the occasional flirtation with pole dancing and drinking Earl Grey tea. When not writing – which is not very often these days - her time is divided between her role as taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, tortoises. And a very grumpy cockatiel.

At the last count Ashe had over forty titles on general release with publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, and several more in the pipeline. She writes M/f, M/M, and occasionally rings the changes with a little M/M/f. Ashe’s books invariably feature BDSM. She writes explicit stories, always hot, but offering far more than just sizzling sex. Ashe likes to read about complex characters, and to lose herself in compelling plots, so that’s what she writes too.

Ashe has a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keeps thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from her.

Ashe loves to hear from readers. Here are her social media links:


Or you can email her directly at ashe.barker1 at gmail dot com

Saturday, January 6, 2018

Romance from a male perspective -- #erotica #romance #literature

Pearlman cover

By David Russell (Guest Blogger)

I came to writing romance quite late in life. My university education had conditioned me to despise and ignore the idiom, partly because of its purported lack of ‘literary substance’, and partly because of its ‘escapism’ and purported evasion of the painful realities of life. But my attitude gradually changed, because I realised that escapism is a great source of comfort, and reading it could help to defuse painful tensions, and help maintain equilibrium and control over life.

I felt I had to make a struggle to integrate literary style and substance into romance stories, to give these stories a fully-developed, in-depth background and setting. My previous writings had been highly abstract and speculative, and I felt there was a need for the concrete. I now feel that I have achieved some equilibrium between the romantic and the hard/speculative.

I am indeed one of that comparatively rare ilk – a male romance writer in a field heavily dominated by women writers. I would like to feel I bridge the gulf between old and new attitudes – old romance, with its celebration of the ‘eternal feminine’, together with the openness of contemporary swingers and the like. In spite of my sympathies with the latter, I do not care for the ultra explicit. I think the celebration of Eros is far more potent if it is expressed obliquely, metaphorically, and if it leaves adequate areas to the imagination. After all, a truly euphoric experience has some of the qualities of a voyage into the unknown.

My struggles with the idiom are reflected in the make-up of my characters. They all have a high degree of intellectualism, and carefully monitor their passions. My main literary influence in this area was the surrealist novel The Girl Beneath the Lion (Le Lys de Mer) by André Pieyre de Mandiargues. They are inhibited, full of inhibitions, and have frequently been badly scarred by destructive relationships. I use a great deal of ‘flashback’ technique to give the reader some historical perspective on their lives. Yet, in spite of everything, they retain an urge for excitement and adventure, perhaps to fill in crucial experiences absent from their formative years.

I consider myself sensitive to gender issues and politics. My heroines are strong minded, and I wanted to get inside the minds of such dynamic women, which includes facing their ambitions and insecurities. I realise that the finest romantic poetry was written against a background of extreme taboo and repression. Did this enhance the allure of the ‘forbidden’? Has something been lost through ‘liberation’ and the easy availability of instant gratification? There are of course two sides to the equation. Let us never forget that the ‘prim and proper’ Victorian era was a high time of prostitution. Some of my style is evocative of early 20th Century writing. So perhaps my heroines are also trying to sustain traditional romantic values in the face of contemporary cultural debasement.

About Pearlman

This book was inspired by a passage in the Spanish epic poem La Araucana, which I have translated. In the original story, a Spanish soldier, after a battle, is accosted by an Indian woman who asks him to lead her to her husband's body, to pay her last respects. In the original story, she disappears. In Pearlman the hero is contemporary, but he does time and space travel to those legendary times, and the woman turns out to be Auchimalgen, the Araucanian Moon Goddess. She seduces and enlightens him. There is a backdrop of Chile, with its incredibly volatile ecosphere and long history of protracted conflict. This story combines romance with sci-fi and time travel.

Excerpt

Her skill in undoing my armour was worthy of any trained white man. “We are supremely adaptable; we learn avidly from those we observe and oppose”, she whispered, her teeth gleaming in her smile. As I saw the chain mail and the cuirass lying there, discarded, I saw that the rust had all disappeared.

Deft hands tenderly peeled my sweat-ridden leather and cotton; it was lovely to be nursed without immediate wounds to distract from the exquisite sensations.

You must be proud of your exertions!” she said. The power in her words was akin to a duelling challenge. (The time warp flashed me into my happy collaboration with that beautiful fitness trainer, when I imagined that lithe, toned form excelling itself at the Olympic High Jump as her prelude to our delicious consummation.)

I looked up towards her breasts, to see the matching metal, discs, chains, bangles – an array of gold, silver and jade; I sensed their resilience beneath their cover. She read my response with total ease; with a radiant smile, she whispered “do as you have been done by.”

My hands trembled a little as I delicately negotiated the pins and clasps, but I succeeded in making a harmonious pattern of them, like a crown at the head of my discarded armour. It was good to have gained intimate knowledge of those metallic treasures in the museums.

The face of a full moon, reciprocating its radiation on Tegualda’s face and eyes, beamed its glittering reflections, as if casting off a diaphanous robe, to reveal the perfect body of its illuminated rocks, bouncing back and forth around the elaborated grid of our variegated metalwork – steel, bronze, silver and gold – its luminosity almost suggesting that it would all come to life, radiant in the flames of their smelting, almost as two armies facing each other. In turn, the beams flooded our faces, giving an external flourish to our luminous vibrancy charged from within.

She took my hand, and made it caress her sealskin robe: “please do the honours”. I lifted it at the bottom. My hands reached up inside it until they could feel her firm but still slender waist. Repeating my earlier gesture, she raised her arms in surrender and conquest, the robe clouding into a transient veil over her noble features.

Then Tegualda cast off her gleaming white cotton camisera for me with all the challenging flourish of a toreador. She tamed me and fired me simultaneously with her lovely self-revelation.

The walls of my time-capsule were fractured. There glistened across the world, ricocheted back and forth across the centuries a composite of the world’s beauties, celebrated in poetry and song, painting and sculpture, melted, distilled and poured into one vibrant, impassioned, soul-suffused body. Egyptian and Grecian statues and mural figures melted into an array of Hollywood dream sublimities deeply embedded in my memory. This was a spiritual earthquake, embracing all history and culture, the distilled essence of all artistic striving poured into one giant goblet.


Buy Links

Amazon.co.uk:

Amazon.com:

Release Day post with Giveaway

About the Author

David Russell is a resident in the UK. He writes poetry, literary criticism, speculative fiction and romance. His main poetry collection is Prickling Counterpoints (1998); his poems have also been published in online International Times. His main speculative works are High Wired On (2002) and Rock Bottom (2005). In 2013 he published his translation of Spanish epic La Araucana. Recently he has turned to romances: Self’s Blossom; Explorations; Further Explorations; Therapy Rapture; Darlene, An Ecstatic Rendezvous (all published by Extasy, soon to be re-released from Bella Tulip Publishing). He has also self-published a collection of erotic poetry and artwork, Sensual Rhapsody, 2015. In addition to writing, David is also a singer-songwriter and guitarist with two CD albums Bacteria Shrapnel and Kaleidoscope Concentrate, and many tracks on You Tube, under ‘Dave Russell’.


Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Review Tuesday: The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun by @SpencerDryden (#reviewtuesday #eroticromance #humor)



The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun by Spencer Dryden
Excessica, 2017

Can a mild-mannered PhD student save humanity from a terrible future of domination by sexually frustrated females?

Just the premise of Spencer Dryden’s newly released short story, The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun, makes me smile. The book itself had me laughing out loud.

Alex Bennet is a typical grad student—living in a cheap apartment, surviving on burgers and beer, slaving away for the professors who hold his fate in their hands. When a midget-sized visitor from the future materializes in his one-room efficiency, claiming that only Alex can prevent the disastrous collapse of human society, he’s inclined to be skeptical. However, one test of the Gueschtunkina Ray Gun provided by the time-traveler is enough to change his mind.

The gun has the power to engender overwhelming sexual arousal in any woman subjected to its rays. Alex is the beneficiary of this transformation, much to his delight. Still, while overcoming the resistance of an already-flirtatious waitress might be straightforward, what are Alex’s chances of seducing the most frigid, ball-busting woman on the planet—fellow academic Dr. Lilith Bendershoot? Yet that’s his assignment. Lilith holds the keys to the decline of the human race. If Alex doesn’t soften her up, the male of the species is doomed to shriveled impotency and the female to millennia of sterile authority.

This story is darned near perfect. It’s clever and original, while demonstrating Spencer Dryden’s signature adoration of everything womanly. When I’d finished, I wished there were more; yet making the tale any longer would have spoiled it.

The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun is a warm-hearted, sexy comic gem. Highly recommended!