IMPORTANT NOTICE: BARTERING THE SEX SLAVE'S FREEDOM

Dear Readers, please note that this book is the same as THE SEX SLAVE'S FINAL PUNISHMENT. I had to change the title and the premise slightly, as well as the cover, because Amazon would not let it through until I did.

THE SEX SLAVE'S FINAL PUNISHMENT contains forced consent. BARTERING THE SEX SLAVE'S FREEDOM doesn't. So please be forewarned.

The Sex Slave's Final Punishment (Initiation 3, Book 4)

Dear Readers, this book has been blocked by Amazon for hair-raising content. But it is available at Nook, Smashwords, All Romance EBooks, Bookstrand and Kobo.

So please find the final story of The Initiation 3 at all these outlets while I figure what to do with Amazon. I will have to alter the content if I want to get it to Amazon, but then it would not be a true continuation of the story as it is supposed to be.

THEY ARE STRANGERS IN A STRANGE, SEXED-UP LAND. THEY SOUGHT FREEDOM, AND NOW THEY MUST PAY THE PRICE.

Gina, Max and Greg have been caught trying to escape from the dictator’s clutches. They must now willingly submit to sexual indignities by the guards, who see them as nothing more than playthings.

Most final of all, they are sentenced to death by the Guillotine.

Can Gina find a way out for herself and her friends, or must she succumb to their final, very public hour?

This 12000 word BDSM novelette is the final volume of ‘The Initiation 3’ series. ‘The Initiation 1’ and ‘The Initiation 2’ have been in the Amazon US Top 2 Erotica and Top 30 Romance bestseller charts. The series has sold well over 95,000 copies.

EXCERPT:

I get an inkling of what they are talking about as the guard places his hand on my bare thigh. He lifts it and pulls my right leg onto his clothed lap, so that my pussy is displayed like an open anemone. The driver takes his hand off the wheel long enough to do the same to my left leg.

I am now as open as an invitation card. Where they want me to be. I am extremely aware of how I must look, with my red pussy displayed to the windshield – zooming head on like a bull to the elements beyond. A trickle of juice leaks from my vagina to stain the seat. I flush. I wonder if they notice this.

They will soon enough, because the guard begins to caress my pussy. His fingers and thumb are very clever, surprisingly, and he soon strokes and rubs my clit into what passes for an erection in my nubile, female body. My toes curl and I feel a paean of illicit sensation as he oozes his fingers into the folds between my labia and clit.

Ohhhh.

I long to close my legs. But his fingers dig in further. Rub, stroke, back, forth. I steal a look at his face, and he is not looking down at my pussy at all. Rather, he is eyeing my face. Gauging how I am reacting to his probing. I’m afraid my face and high color betray it all.

He massages me until I am twitching and grinding my crotch against the cracked leather seat in ecstasy. I can’t help myself. My body has its own pleasure havens, and my mind can scant overrule their natural libidos.

The men are laughing at my reaction. I can bet they are saying:

“Filthy whore.”

“Skanky American.”

“Fucking cunt.”

One finger dips into my creamy hole. And then deeper. He’s practically coring my vaginal tunnel. Another finger joins the first. He’s stretching me. Seeing how much my walls can and will resist.

Open Your Curvy Legs for Me (BBW BDSM Erotic Romance)

A BBW EROTIC ROMANCE TWIST ON THE AMAZON TOP 2 EROTICA BESTSELLER!

Mariel Honeycutt is a proud, plus-sized Ivy League college freshman. She thinks she's got it all figured out, until she meets Michael Pitt, a blond senior who is the athletic toast of campus. He's gorgeous, rich and seemingly unattainable by the likes of her.

So why does his head turn to watch her as he walks past? Why does he ask her out on a mysterious rendezvous?

Michael Pitt is ashamed of his affinities. He likes plus-sized women, but his friends and parents have certain expectations of how a seemingly charmed golden boy should behave . . . in public. He also likes to tie his women up in uncomfortable positions as he makes love to them.

Can Mariel and Michael, two opposites in every way, have any semblance of a relationship?

This is a 20,000-word BBW BDSM Erotic Romance version of the Amazon Erotica Top 2 Bestsellers, OPEN YOUR LEGS FOR ME and THIGHS WIDE APART.

Excerpt:

"You know what BDSM is all about?" he says casually, as if he's talking about the weather.

I nod . . . and then I shake my head slowly.

"I know . . . some theory," I say slowly.

We could have been talking about some project we were planning to write. I don't know. Maybe I will write a thesis about this. Too bad I'm doing Microbiology.

"Just so you know," he says, "I'm a dom these days."

"Dom?"

"Dominant."

Yes. I figured as much. Something in my gut quails, like an undigested food morsel.

"There's a safe word you can use," he goes on. "You see, 'no' doesn't cut it in BDSM."

"I read about that," I say truthfully.

"So what safe word would you like?"

Uh, safe word? He assumes I'm going through with it. I swallow. Well, I am.

I lick my lips. He's still looking at me as if I'm temptation itself. I think he sees me through Impressionist glasses. I must be like one of those plump Renoir lasses. The ones who are gorgeous and eminently huggable. Or the Queen of Sheba, whom I am told is of massive proportions.

"I think I would like 'Sheba'," I say.

My cheeks flame. Now, where did that come from?

"'Sheba' it is. Now, anytime you're uncomfortable with what is happening, I want you to say 'Sheba'."

I nod. Dread settles onto the pit of my stomach. It swirls with the slow churn of acid and exhilaration. Damn it, I am excited. My nerves are jangling in their synapses. How can they not be? I am about to be deflowered all over again. It's a rite of passage. A milestone in my sexual pilgrim's progress.

He seats himself on the couch.

I stand in front of him.

He sprawls, his muscular legs splayed wide open, displaying a firm bulge in between. Oh my God, so fast? The tight denim of his jeans encases this bulge like a wrapper around a rapidly expanding balloon. He wears a white wife beater.

My hands are nervously wringing themselves. Why doesn't he say anything? Do anything? Why does he merely stare at me from that couch as if I'm a piece of meat?

I wonder if he can tell that I've put on fresh panties for this occasion. They're white, lacy and wonderfully girly.

"Take off your jeans," he says, folding his hands behind his marvelous head. His blond hair is cropped short. Swimmer style.

It has started. The mood has significantly changed here. It's as though a whole season has shifted by and we have fast-forwarded to . . . something else. Something darker and rife with infinite possibilities. Like we are role-playing.

Or maybe not.

Damaged Beauties

HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO TO UNCOVER A SECRET?

Pretty and hard-nosed investigative journalist, Virginia Tremont, has talked her editor into giving her an assignment - to find out what happened to her former teenage celebrity crush, who suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from the public eye ten years ago.

Virginia discovers that he now goes by the name of Ethan Greene. He is holed up in a mansion on a hill where strange things have been rumored to happen. Curiosity-seeking teenagers have been spooked. Young women have disappeared. Ethan himself is a recluse and is almost never seen.

Virginia engineers herself to be swept up in the strikingly handsome Ethan's world, where nothing is as it seems. Then there are the troubling entries in Ethan's diary: "He was here again. He wants to kill me. Take over this house completely."

Too late, Virginia finds herself falling for him, and he for her. But has Virginia put herself in the path of a danger she has totally unforeseen?

At 20,000 words, DAMAGED BEAUTIES is the first volume in the 'ROMANCED BY THE DAMAGED MILLIONAIRE' BDSM erotic romance series.

Excerpt:

We are both seemingly mesmerized by each other. Until I hear the clearing of someone's throat.

"Sir, please allow me to introduce Ms. Tremont to you."

I glance at Jeffrey, who is carrying yet another one of his endless trays, in the doorway leading to the kitchen, presumably. I stand up. My chair is pushed back by my knees.

David Kinney's spell is broken.

"I'm sorry," he says. His voice is the one I heard earlier downstairs. He walks to me, holding out his hand. "I'm Ethan Greene. I'm not used to having visitors."

"So I heard." I shake it. Our palms touch, and a delicious shiver travels down my spine. "I'm Virginia Tremont."

I will my hand not to tremble. I can't help but gaze into his large green eyes, which have captivated millions on the screen. Those very eyes which have rendered so many teenagers weak-kneed and trembling when he played the tortured vampire in Paradise Revisited.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Tremont?"

Feeling? Gad, does he know that my blood is running warm and cold all over my body? Can he tell from the temperature of my skin?

But of course, he's asking about the accident.

I laugh. It sounds a little too shrill for my liking. "Much better, thanks to Jeffrey."

"So I heard," he says, not taking his eyes off me. Do I dare say it, but there's a hunger in his gaze. A rapaciousness, as if the sight of me is an oasis after his long trek through the desert.

He goes to the back of my chair and pulls it out for me. "Please, sit. I'm glad you're able to join me for dinner tonight."

I'm amazed that his manners are impeccable. I sit, warmth suffusing my cheeks. I wonder if I'm blushing.

He has even dressed up for dinner, as though he's trying to impress me. He wears a cashmere jacket over a grey silk shirt. His clothes are tailor-made and expensive. They fit him like a glove.

Jeffrey serves whatever it is on his tray. I barely register what I'm eating. Oh, did I mention Jeffrey's cooking is excellent? I'm certainly not doing it justice tonight. My head is too busy whirling in the kaleidoscope of current events. And I believe I've completely forgotten to play damsel in post-traumatic head wound distress.

I have to be very careful not to let Ethan Greene know I'm a reporter . . . or that I know who he used to be. There's a time and place for everything, and if I play my cards too soon, he will recede. But I must say that I'm having trouble reconciling this polite, sophisticated man with the tortured scribblings I found in his journal.

Then again, the night is still young.

A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor

Here's one for the holidays, and it's set in London! I was in London a couple of weeks ago, so I was inspired to write this.

Now at a special holiday price of 99 cents!

Elise Ratner knows what she wants for Christmas (a sperm donor) and what she doesn't want (a husband). And who better to cater to her needs than her former high school boyfriend, the gorgeous and genetically superior Justin Morgan?

Such a pity he doesn't know it yet.

There are several catches though: Justin is in London, his career is at a peak, and he's dating his boss's daughter - a highly-strung, emotionally needy individual who commands Justin's full attention.

But Elise and Justin are not prepared for the sparks that fly when they meet again after twelve years. Will Justin be up to the task of donating his sperm to Elise at the fertility clinic, or would they both prefer him to do a direct deposit?

This is a 26,000 word erotic romance short novel.

EXCERPT:

The sandwich café is crowded with the lunchtime throng, but they have managed to secure a half-cleaned table at the back. Not exactly the best place for conversation, but she senses that he takes comfort from the familiar surroundings. After all, she did drop quite a bomb.

"So why didn't you get married?" he asks.

He's ready to talk, she senses it.

"I did get married."

He puts down his half-eaten sandwich. She is aware of several women at the other tables giving them surreptitious glances. They're checking him out, she thinks with a smile. Same old, same old. Some things never changed from high school. She was checking him out plenty too before they got it on.

"You never invited me to the wedding," he says, keeping his tone light.

She sighs inwardly. He's hurt, and she knows him all too well. He did always have a predilection for masking how he felt. Justin grew up in a strict home. His father was in the military, and he always gave precise instructions to his boys to 'handle it like a man'.

"It was a shotgun affair. Reno."

"He knocked you up?" he says, surprised.

"Not exactly." She shudders when she thinks of her marriage, but now is not the time to let Justin in on what happened. "It lasted for exactly a year and a half. Let's keep it at that."

He nods. He has always been one who respects other people's privacy. She has always admired this trait of his.

"No kids?"

"Obviously."

"Thought I'd ask, just in case."

"What about you? Married?" She knows he's not, and that's why she's here.

"No."

'Girlfriend?"

He hesitates before saying, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" She laughs. "Either you have a girlfriend or you don't."

"It's complicated. Let's leave it at that." He smiles without really smiling.

She ponders this. "So . . . would she mind if you . . . contributed your DNA?"

"I didn't say I was going to do it. It is a huge responsibility."

"Oh no, it isn't. Not for you." She delves into her bag and brings out a bound document. "Read through this and put your mind at ease."

He scrutinizes the document carefully as she finishes the rest of her sandwich. He finally puts it down and looks up at her. She finds herself admiring his large hazel eyes again - so penetrating and beautiful.

"So why me?" he says. "Why not some anonymous donor from a sperm bank?"

Punished by the Dictator's Daughter

The deranged dictator's daughter, Aimelie Potchenko, is playing a cunning psychological game. She intends to keep Gina's boyfriend, Max, prisoner forever. But in doing so, she will throw Gina and her good friend, Greg, together in a series of bizarre sexual situations where they have no choice but to confront their secret attraction to each other.

Frightened by Aimelie's threat to keep them in Ursk forever, Gina decides to escape with her friends. But can she trust the people around her, or is she walking into a deadly trap?

This 11700 word BDSM novelette is the third volume of 'The Initiation 3' series. 'The Initiation 1' and 'The Initiation 2' have been in the Amazon US Top 2 Erotica and Top 30 Romance bestseller charts. The series has sold well over 85,000 copies.

Excerpt:

The guards make me squat against the far wall from the bed, where I have a good view of Aimelie's ass bouncing on top of my boyfriend's well-muscled hips. They release by chains and make me hold my arms horizontally at my sides. They disengage the lariat, but still keep the iron collar around my neck as a mark of servitude.

Aimelie half-turns and says something to the guards. They nod gleefully.

As I stay still, the guards drag a box filled with saucers towards me. They don't have to tell me not to move a muscle when they start piling the plates upon my arms, shoulders, and strained and bent thighs. I have basically become a human smorgasbord. The saucers are delicate. I recognize the hallmark of extremely fine china beneath the rose patterned design, and it goes to say that I am forbidden to drop any of them.

"Break one, and I will have you severely whipped," Aimelie says, still in that teenage singsong voice of hers. Is it just me, or has her English improved? And it has just been one week of practicing periodically to Max, I suppose, when their language is not colored by 'fuck' or 'suck' or 'lick'.

"Aimelie, please," Max says. I can see the desperation on his flushed face. "Don't hurt her. I'll do anything you want."

"You are already doing anything I tell you to. Do not try to bargain with me for her hide. It does not become you. Back in America, you were lovers. But here, you are mine." She says that last with a feverish possessiveness that sends alarm bells ringing in my head.

I am afraid to breathe. My thighs already bear the strain of squatting. My pussy is wet and exposed. My arms tremble slightly, and I rue the fact that I scarcely have had the time to tone them. They are weak and ill-suited for duress. The iron collar is heavy around my neck.

But that is not all Aimelie has in store for me.

200,000 sales! Thank you, dear readers!

I have reached my 200,000th sale! Thank you, dear readers, for making this possible!!

Hugs! I hope I can continue to write stories that will entertain you and make you feel.