Well – for those of you who’ve read my recent posts on Facebook know I was incensed by some comments made in a really bad forum – or wanna be forum. While I have broad shoulders there are some very talented writers who were so put off on the comments about a particular publisher they were reeling and hurting. I decided what a better way to fight certain levels of stupidity than to highlight their work. So – in two batches I have a few treats for you as we head into the new year. I so hope you enjoy my fellow writers from Naughty Nights Press.
TESSA WANTON – TICKLED PINK
The new year sees new adventures for Tess, and also a tale of love within kink for one of her contemporaries – Ellie. Work has thrown them together, but will hidden pain drag them apart? Tickled Pink – out in March 2012… an excerpt below to whet your appetite.
Turning the key in the door of the office building, I walked towards my car. The evening was a fresh but warm spring evening with a light breeze blowing in off the distant sea. As I gazed at the frothy waves, the hairs on the back of my neck started to raise and an intense feeling of unease crept across my skin – a feeling that I was being watched. Looking around nervously I hurried to my car pulling my coat tightly to me, sweeping my eyes around, keeping to the exposed open space in the centre of the park. Making it to the car with a gasp of relief, I fumbled with the key cursing quietly at how my shaking hands were refusing to comply with my wishes. As the key tumbled through my trembling fingers I yelped with frustration, crouching quickly to retrieve it, but as I stood, I felt a hand clamp over my nose and mouth. Struggling and thrashing through pure instinct, I tried frantically to claw the hand away from me scratching with my long finger nails, but an arm now secured tightly around my waist, squeezing me, putting an end to my desperate struggles. Trying to scream I breathed in deeply, realizing in horror and much too late that it wasn’t just a hand, it was a cloth. A cloth soaked in a strong smelling substance which I’d just inhaled to the bottom of my lungs. As thoughts scrambled and swirled desperately, the strength drained from my limbs and panic rose in my throat as the blackness consumed me, my eyes closing heavily as I became limp in my assailants arms.
As my consciousness returned I knew I wasn’t anywhere that was familiar to me. A blindfold was tightly secured in place and my arms and legs were bound spread eagled to a table, bed or board of some kind – I had no idea what, but it was a fairly hard surface, and my head was resting on something soft – a pillow perhaps? Thankfully I was still fully clothed, however the tight pencil skirt I was wearing added to the constriction to my legs. Music was playing softly in the background as I strained to listen for sounds of my captor. Whilst preoccupied with listening for my fate I identified the soothing strains as Vaughan Williams, Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis, one of my all time favorite pieces of music. I turned my head to try and locate the source of the music, surprise registering strongly amongst my fear. I simply couldn’t understand the strange situation, such apparent civility in such uncivilized circumstances. Testing my bonds I ascertained that they were also tightly fastened, an involuntary whimper rose from my throat as I struggled and twisted against them, terror now rising quickly in the pit of my stomach.
My heart jumped into my throat when a man’s voice whispered in my ear, the movement of his lips brushing my lobe and sending shivers through me, “there’s no point in struggling love, your delicate little wrists and ankles are no match for my knots” then laughing quietly under his breath. Panic coursed through me anew, what had this man in store for me? The fact that I was still fully clothed and shod, surely had to be a good thing, but as I anxiously tried to remain calm, my torture began. My right shoe was slowly removed and a hand gently caressed my foot, tracing lazy circles over the top of it. Such an unexpected action astonished me, as despite my paralyzing fear the sensual, capable touch was arousing me. I felt lips kissing my foot through my stockings, gently, carefully sucking each toe in turn, a hand cupping my heel and ankle holding me still. Screwing my eyes tightly shut despite the blindfold, I tried to maintain my composure. The gentleness continued to increase, his touch becoming lighter and lighter until it became a tickle, making my body spasm involuntarily, instinctively trying to escape my tormentor.
Laughing aloud, I was instantly ashamed at my vocal response, ashamed at losing control. Before the ordeal commenced, I had decided resolutely that whatever he could do to me I could keep my control, shut myself off, deny him the pleasure of my fear, but this? He was currently taking control of my body with a light drag of his fingertips over the sole of my right foot. He repeated his torment on my left foot, whilst continuing to tickle my right foot, my breath and cries coming raggedly as I tried to fight my natural responses. I couldn’t imagine how this could become any worse, but then to my horror, he started to tickle up my legs and under my skirt. I writhed under his touch howling like an animal, completely out of control now, out of my mind.
KIKI HOWELL – LOVE, CREATIVITY & MAGICK
Love, Creativity & Magick: A Steampunk Valentine’s Day Tale – A Novelette
All acts of magick take on shades of gray in the end. Especially for Emma, one of four females witches who by birthright belong in the social circles of the privileged upper ten thousand in London. Yet, by rumor of the unknown and the misunderstood, she stands apart, cut by her peers along with her cousins, because they hold a secret—each is gifted with magick.
Their elders had taught them respect for their powers even when mixed with a spanking amount of fanciful mischief. On the other hand, if a lesson was warranted, then white verses black magick could be hard to define. No where was the color of steam more evident than in the matters of justice, a slippery term to define. Yet, they’d made breaking the laws of society their mission. Most of their nights at parties and balls were spent creating a magickal comedy of errors, helping the uptight aristocracy side step their fastidious standards.
Only this year, days before Valentine’s Day, a damnable day for women without suitors, Emma is not quite sure what is happening to her. Something dark and seductive, something not of this world, is luring her, possessing her, and she has no comprehension of what or who the presence really is. But, when he does show his face finally, and she feels him to be a night walker, she must fear not only the threat he poses to her blood and to the energy or magick he can suck from her, but also the danger he poses to her heart. After all of these days feeling him, wanting him, she has to wonder if her feelings are just a matter of his compulsion, if she is under this vampires own type of magick.
To complicate matters further, the vampire’s propositions are as exciting as they are scandalous, to teach her how to power her magick with the overabundance of sexual energy she bears. But, how he knows such thinks he remains elusive about. And there is the added attraction that this vampire was a failed inventor in life, one with a basement full of contraptions she finds she can power through the use of her sexual energy. Valentine’s Day seems like it could be all kinds of fun this year now.
Yet, in these days of social unrest and out-of-control creativity, what is a witch to do with a vampire? When Valentine’s Day rolls around, and a secret is revealed, what will be left for her?
Genres: Valentine’s Day 2012 Theme, Paranormal (witches and vampires), Steampunk (Victorian England), Erotic Romance
Coming Feb 2012 from Naughty Nights Press
Purr babies – what did I tell you? You all hot and bothered yet?