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In this collection of first-rate short erotic literature, lusty selections by such provocative authors as Megan Hart, Lillian Feisty, Saskia Walker and Portia Da Costa will pique, tease and satisfy any appetite, and prove that good things do come in small packages.
I stare out of the window, down the gravel drive and out across the park of Blaystock Manor. I'm here filling in with some temp work, while I wait to take up my dream job, my chance of a lifetime working in the Caribbean at a luxury resort as a junior manager. This gig is just cleaning and helping with renovations, donkey work really, but it's all extra money to pay for my new tropical wardrobe.
Actually, it's a free day today. The marquess is pretty good about that. We get plenty of time off, plenty of breaks and other perks, and despite the fact he's strapped for cash and putting everything into this project, we're pretty well paid for our labors. Everyone else has gone off in a minibus to visit a local monastery where they brew apple brandy and make luxury biscuits and stuff, but me, I've got my own diversions here.
I'm alone in the house. Even the marquess drove off a short while ago in his decrepit gray Jag. And I'm free to indulge my wicked secret vice.
I discovered this little sitting room a couple days ago, when I was a bit lost and searching for the Blue Salon, where I was supposed to be polishing the floor. I stumbled in here and found a room that was homely and pretty lived-in, and sort of cozy. And, being irredeemably nosy, when I saw an old VCR and a bunch of tapes, I had to investigate.
Boy, oh, boy, oh, boy! What a shock I got.
And now, while the house is empty, I slip another tape into the machine and settle down in a battered old leather armchair to watch it.
It's a home movie. Filmed, I think, in this very room. And it stars my latest crush, the marquess himself, and a woman who must have been his girlfriend at the time. Obviously it was taped many years ago, because His Lordship had short hair then, and now it's long, down to his shoulders.
Here he is, possibly sitting in this very chair. His knees are set wide apart and his girlfriend is facedown across them.
He's spanking her.
He's really laying it on with his long, powerful hand, and she's squirming and patently loving it!
And I'm loving it, too, and I don't really know why. Okay, I knew people played spanking games for sexual kicks, and I'd sort of hinted to various boyfriends that I'd like to try it. But it's never happened and I've never really worried about that.
But now. Now I've seen it. I bloody well want it!
I'm so turned on now I can barely see straight. And I certainly can't stay still in my chair. I'm sweating and my skin feels like it's already been spanked, all over. And between my legs, I'm drenched, my panties sopping with intense, almost inexplicable arousal. My sex is aching, tight and hungry, as if I want to be fucked right now, but at the same time have my bottom thrashed, just like the woman in the video.
The marquess really seems to be enjoying her pleasure, even though his cool, handsome face is exquisitely impassive. It's an old, well-worn tape, but I can still see the mask of stern, beautiful composure that he affects… and the wicked dark twinkle in his eyes.
It's no good, I've got to play with myself. I can't help it and I can't bear it if I don't. My sex is so heavy and so tense, I've just got to do it.
As the woman on the screen writhes and wriggles and shrieks as His Lordship's hand comes down, I unzip my jeans and shuffle them down to my knees, dragging my soggy panties with them. There's something wickedly lewd about sitting here with my clothes at half-mast like this, and the forbidden exposure only excites me more and makes my need to touch my body ever more urgent.
"Oh, God…" I murmur vaguely as I slip my fingers between my legs and find my clit. It's swollen and ready for my touch like a throbbing button. I flick it lightly and my vagina flutters dangerously. On the screen, the spanked girl tries to touch her own sex, wriggling her hand beneath her belly as she squirms and cries, but the marquess pauses midspank and gently remonstrates with her.
"Come, come, Sylvia, you know you mustn't do that. No pleasure until you've been a good girl and taken your punishment."
His voice is soft, even, but shot through with sweet steel and authority. It pushes me closer to coming just as powerfully as the spanking show does. I suddenly wish I could get to know him better, and make this all real.
"Oh, my lord…" I whisper this time, closing my eyes and turning on an inner video. This time it's me across those strong thighs. Me who's writhing and moaning, with my bottom flaming.
Oh, the picture is so clear. And it's the marquess of today who's doing the business, not the one in the video.
He's wearing his usual outfit of black jeans and black shirt, and his beautiful hair is loose on his shoulders like sheets of silk. There's a sly, slight smile on his pale, chiseled face, and his long, cultured hand comes down with metronomic regularity.
I'm rubbing myself hard now, beating at my clit, but not stroking the very apex of it. I daren't; I'm so excited and I don't want to come yet. In my fantasy, he allows me to touch myself while he's smacking me.
I writhe and wriggle, both fighting the pleasure and savoring its gathering at the same time. I throw my thighs wide, rubbing my bottom against the seat of the creaky old armchair. The sensation of the smooth surface against my skin is even more pervy. I press down harder, squashing my anus against the leather. I imagine him spanking me there, and even though I've no idea what it would really feel like, I groan, wanting it more and more and more.
"Oh, my lord… do it… do it…" I burble, eyes tightly closed and half out of my mind with desire and longing.
"Actually, my dear, I think you're 'doing it' quite well enough on your own. Do continue."
What?
It's like I'm falling, dropping through reality into a parallel universe. I know what's happened, but somehow I can't stop rubbing myself.
My eyes fly open though, and there he is.
The marquess.
Somehow he's walked into the room without me realizing it, moving softly on the rubber soles of his black running shoes.
In a few split seconds, I take in his glorious appearance.
So tall, so male, so mysterious. Long, dark hair, pale smiling face, long fit body. Dressed in his customary black shirt and jeans, his elegant hands flexing as if preparing to copy the actions of his image on the screen.
I snatch my hand from my crotch and make as if to struggle back into my jeans. My face is scarlet, puce, flaming.… I'm almost peeing myself.
"No, please…continue."
His voice is low and quiet, almost humming with amusement and intense interest. It's impossible to disobey him. Despite the fact that I think the aristocracy is an outdated nonsense, he's nobility to his fingertips and I'm just a pleb, bound to obey.
Unable to tear my eyes away from him, I watch as he settles his long frame down into the other chair, across from mine. He gives me a little nod, making his black hair sway, and then turns his attention to the images on the screen.
So do I, but with reluctance.
But I do as he wishes and begin to stroke my clit again.
Oh, God, the woman on the screen is really protesting now. Oh, God, in my mind, that woman is me, and I'm laid across the marquess's magnificent thighs with my bottom all pink and sizzling and my crotch wetting his jeans with seeping arousal.
I imagine the blows I've never experienced, and just the dream of them makes my clit flutter wildly and my vagina clench and pulse. I seem to see the carpet as I writhe and wiggle and moan, and at the same time his beautiful face, rather grave, but secretly smiling.
As his eyes twinkle in my imagination, I come.
It's a hard, wrenching orgasm. Shocking and intense. I've never come like that before in my life. It goes on and on, so extreme it's almost pain, and afterward I feel tears fill my eyes.
Talk about le petit mort and postcoital tristesse. I've got tristesse by the bucketful, but without any coitus.
My face as crimson as the buttocks of the spanked woman in the video, I drag my panties and jeans back into place and lie gasping in the chair. I scrabble for a tissue. I'm going to cry properly now, not just a few teardrops, and I know I should just run from the room, but somehow I just can't seem to move.
Something soft and folded is put gently into my hand, and as I steal a glance at it, I discover it's the marquess's immaculately laundered handkerchief. Still gulping and sniffing, I rub my face with it, breathing in the faint, mouthwatering fragrance of his cologne.
Shit, I fancy this man something rotten, and I've been fantasizing about him fancying me back, and falling for me, and now this has happened. I'm so embarrassed, I wish I could burrow into the leather upholstery and disappear out of sight.
A strong arm settles around my shoulders, and the great chair creaks as he sits down on the arm beside me.
"Hey, there's no harm done," the marquess says softly. "Now we both know each other's dirty little secrets." He squeezes my shoulders. "I get off spanking girls' bottoms and having them wriggling on my lap. And you get off watching videos of it and playing with yourself." He pauses, and I sense him smiling that slow, wicked smile again. "And quite beautifully, I must admit. Quite exquisitely…"
I beg your pardon?
Hell, I must have looked awful. Crude. Ungainly. Like a complete slapper.
I try to wriggle free, but he holds me. He even puts up a hand to gently stroke my hair. I still can't look at him, even though part of me really wants to.
"I'm so embarrassed. I'm so sorry. I had no business coming in here and prying into your private things."
One long finger strokes down the side of my face, slips under my chin and gently lifts it. Nervously, I open my eyes and look into his. They're large and dark and brown and merry, and I feel as if I'm drowning, but suddenly that's a good thing.
All the embarrassment and mortification disappears, just a...
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Naughty Enough,
By Sir Charles Panther "Life is hard. It's hard... (Alexandria, Virginny, USandA) - See all my reviews (VINE VOICE) (TOP 1000 REVIEWER)
This review is from: Naughty Bits 2: An Anthology of Short Erotic Fiction (Paperback)
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Program (What's this?)
This is a real-book publication from the relatively new Spice Briefs line, the Harlequin dip into the online/e-reading erotica pool.
Spice Briefs describes its product as "bold, sexually explicit [work] that pushes the envelope...highly erotic short stories...exploring any and all sexual scenarios, even ones considered `taboo,' and [which] avoid using euphemisms in favor of the frank, graphic language typical of the erotica genre." Sure, I get it: raunchy. Nothing wrong with that. This book basically delivers on its product line descriptive. It's direct, anatomically and activity-specific in vocabulary, sufficiently graphic, and uses all the right dirty words (although I couldn't help notice some classics were surprisingly scant) in most of the right places. And at its core, the Spice Briefs product is a Harlequin, so it essentially is by and for the female reader. While chromosomally challenged in this regard, I did manage to squeeze a modicum of enjoyment from this collection. "Chance of a Lifetime" (excerpted above in the Amazon.com product page) opens the with a surprisingly tame and sadly stereotypical tale of bored/naughty/prim Rose, his lordship the marquess Christian, a manor in English rain, dusty rooms with lots of books and worn carpets, thick drapes, some spanking, and in the end some really sappy happily ever after. "The Priestess" is a change of setting, off to ancient Egypt. It's a change of pace, too, with the erotic action of the story finally coming 28 pages into its total of 36. Way too much ambience and attention to weather, clothing, and makeup, and not nearly enough boinky-boinky. "Taken" gets things mostly back on track, with a tale of professional chef Chloe and her eminently successful three-way hook-up with two achingly gorgeous--and neatly bisexual--male colleagues. The men's sexuality is interesting in that its portrayal is somewhat euphemistic, and the wildest the two of them get is one hot kiss (I have to conclude a full-on three-way with two guys and a girl doesn't fit the product demographic). Chloe is the real beneficiary here, naturally. "Favor Me" is a tidy little murder whodunit, with our kept-woman heroine Amaris performing a few rather non-standard investigative procedures, all in the name of love, her love of money. She's smart, everyone else isn't, there's a hot bodyguard, she figures out who offed her go-to lingerie designer, and she's still scheming as we close out. "Medusa's Folly" is the best of the book, a ripping-hot tale of the goddess, and how she meets her match, in more ways than one. It's creative, interesting, wonderfully graphic and thoroughly unabashed, a ripping-hot little story. The best is followed by the worst. "Primal Instincts" is pretty awful, not in its premise of the search for a magical jungle flower, the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world, but in its ridiculous portrayal of Mayan "warriors" who speak fluent English, in a subterranean cavern, fitted with fur rugs and footed marble tubs, deep in the Central American jungle. Basic facts don't match up, settings are inaccurate, and the characteristics of the wonderfully beautiful, thoughtful, bold, smooth of body, athletic, muscular, warrior-like, gentle yet rough, agreeable yet demanding, long-haired, wondrously endowed behind mrere loincloths--stop me if you've run across this trite stereotype before--were just awful. When the chiseled jungle-cave-warrior-priest-Mayan-stud says to the lovely Olivia, "I want to taste your cream," I groaned out loud, and not from arousal. This story had promise, but it evaporated pretty fast, and stayed dry. "This Is What I Want" tells the tale of a ribald blogger working as a customer rep for an IT company, who cuts loose amazingly sexily online at home, but has a secret work-crush who can never be approached. You know where it's going, it goes there, and with an indulgent dollop of self-serving melodrama things work out okay. The highlights of this story were the narrator's own little blog posts/stories, which were very nice. "Improper Pleasure" is another English period piece, with oh so very repressed feelings and overblown drama over class and place and role, right down to E. B. Browning poetry even. Dull and maudlin. The closer, "Caught in the Act" is another whodunit, again set in an IT business, where our heroine, tough, independent, hard on the outside yet ragingly erotic in her soft, velvety nougat center, helps a private, ahem, dick catch a thieving insider. While somewhat spicy, these stories don't really go taboo, not even close. The wildest we get is some spanking, two hot guys kissing, and some disappointingly pedestrian handcuff use. "Primal Instincts" flirts with a highly promising absolutely wild and consensual group-sex encounter, but it totally fizzles. Overall, this book's novellas seem to be trying to find the delicate middle ground between truly raunchy adult fiction, where anything goes (and does), and the milder adult fiction, which has the requisite nekkid people performing healthy sexual activities in warm and inviting environments as the mood strikes them, but doesn't get too, you know, out of hand. Bottom line: this is passable erotic fiction. While a couple of the stories are well-worn (yawn) bodice-rippers set in Victorian Britain, a couple of them start to push the envelope, but don't push that hard. Let's hope that as the Spice Briefs product line matures, the stories will be more creative, deeper, and considerably more in keeping with their own stated intent.
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Decent One-Handed Reading,
By
This review is from: Naughty Bits 2: An Anthology of Short Erotic Fiction (Paperback)
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Program (What's this?)
Well, quite frankly this is a book about nothing but getting right down to the dirty deed itself. For that reason I really liked this book. Honestly I find myself dismissing most bodice-rippers because the story-lines and dialog are so meandering & improbable I'm instantly annoyed and find myself paging thru to the "Good parts". So anthologies like this are a very good fit for readers like me.
The Naughty Bits does not disappoint on that score, most of the stories disregard the standard set-up for a story and plants the reader right into the situation - no matter it's probability it doesn't matter when one is only in it for the grinding. The only thing readers like me will consider is the quality of the grinding and erotica, like everything else in life, is subject to personal taste. Overall, I would like to rate this anthology 3 and 1/2 stars. There were fewer stories than I would have liked to fit my personal tastes. However - the stories I liked, I REALLY Liked! And since I am aware that this is strictly a "to-each-their-own" collection I am not going to single out and pick on/praise any one author. I will only add, that for those of us who are in the mood to put romance aside and get right down to it - well then, there is most definitely something in here for everyone.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
fun and (mostly) hot,
By
This review is from: Naughty Bits 2: An Anthology of Short Erotic Fiction (Paperback)
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Program (What's this?)
This book, for the most part, is an absolute delight. It reminds me of a box of sinful chocolates -- when you open the box, you promise yourself that you're only going to eat one and save the rest for later. But the first chocolate is so good, you eat another, and then another, and before you know it the entire box is gone. That's how it was for me when I sat down with this book of short erotic fiction. When I got home from work, the Amazon box was at my door waiting for me. Well, my husband and I are serious bibliophiles with eclectic tastes ranging from military history to Hawaii field guides to gourmet cooking. Thus, I had no idea what would be in this box.
When I opened the box and found "Naughty Bits," I was intrigued. The first story I turned to was "Medusa's Folly," and as luck would have it this is probably the best story of the group. It has odd main characters: Medusa and a stone gargoyle that comes to life. I thought this was a wonderfully original story and I loved the relationship between these two. Plus, who would ever think of a love story from Medusa's perspective? Nice work there. I also really enjoyed "The Priestess," set in ancient Egypt, and "Favor Me," a fun & sexy murder mystery. Stories that didn't work quite so well for me included "Chance of a Lifetime," a story about an English peer and a woman who is supposed to be an employee of his. Turns out he is into spanking, which is fine, but the erotic story quickly devolved into a sort of sickly sweet romance, and it was an odd juxtaposition that felt forced. Another tale that was a bit off was "Primal Instincts" which I'm not even sure how to describe. Suffice it to say that loin-cloths and native warriors were involved, but so were marble tubs and oddly kitted-out sex caves. These two tales were kind of like biting into a chocolate and finding one of those too-sweet maple walnut affairs. It's still chocolate, but kind of disappointing and leaves you with a funny aftertaste. Meh. Erotica is a funny thing, though, in that different kinds of stories will appeal to different kinds of people. "Naughty Bits 2" is a good anthology, a diverse collection where even the stories that didn't quite resonate with me were still enjoyable to read, and before I knew it I had zipped through the entire book. I thought it was a lot of fun, and that in general the actual "naughty bits" were well written. Truly something for everyone here, perfect for a spicy, fun read. Enjoy, but not necessarily in moderation!
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