My good friend and fellow author, Lisabet Sarai, has a new steampunk book out, and I wanted to give her a shout-out about it. It’s interesting how you can develop and maintain a friendship when you are half a world apart. Lisabet lives in the Far East, and I’m from Sin City in the US of A.
Our relationship has been a fun one even though we’ve never occupied the same bed together or the same city for that matter. We’ve even co-authored a couple of stories together, and that’s been a hoot! Crashing the Swinger’s Pajama Party was based upon an actual event that happened at one of our annual New Year’s Pajama Parties.
When we lived in the mid-West, our PJ parties were typically around 100-120 people. Since we are in the Lifestyle, we’ve made it a point not to get too cozy with our neighbors but ended up friends with a couple who lived several houses down the block from us. He and I are engineers and they were often our dinner dates.
I always held my breath in December to keep from inviting them to our parties, and they would always comment about seeing the cars lined up for blocks every New Year’s. So I’d have to make some excuse about not inviting them.
As luck would have it, about 12:30 A.M., our doorbell rang, and I opened it to find our neighbor’s standing there. I invited them in, knowing full well that there was an orgy going on in the living room. By this time of night, most people were missing their clothing, and it was a shock for them, to say the least. Foxy was in her trademark long johns with little animals on it and completely unbuttoned to the waist, with the flap down. I wasn’t much better in a bath robe.
To say it was an interesting evening, was funny except at the time it happened.
Recounting that to Lisabet prompted her to suggest that we write a story about it, and that’s how Crashing the Swinger’s Pajama Party got started. I write pretty explicit smut stories, and it was interesting how I managed to get Lisabet’s mind into the gutter along with mine! I love to read stories from a female author’s mindset, and Lisabet is one of my favorites.
She often writes stories with a Far Eastern bent, and Rajasthani Moon is another good one.
Steampunk Shifter BDSM Romance
Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman on a mission.
A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon.
A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle with torture and delight.
A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.
She has never faced such a challenge.
When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. But, instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.
Kidnapped by the ruler’s half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the handsome but depraved Rajah Amir, she soon finds herself fighting against her own lascivious nature as much as the schemes of her captors. Unfortunately, her sympathy for the moon-cursed wolf-man Pratan only complicates her situation. Cecily has never failed to complete an assignment, but now she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.
Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DBMLQQG
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09DBMLQQG
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1100493
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.
“You are not nearly as self-controlled and stoic as I would have expected,” Amir commented as she trembled with the aftershocks of her crisis. “Perhaps your reputation has been inflated by rumour.” He flicked at one of the dangling clamps. She bit her lip as pain raced through her, determined not to cry out, but she couldn’t halt the juices trickling from her twitching quim.
“Still, I’m personally delighted to find you are so responsive—to both pain and pleasure.” Wetness spilled along the crevice between her buttocks and the scent of almonds surrounded her. “That will make the interrogation much more entertaining, at least for me.” Once she was slippery with the aromatic oil, he worked his fingers into her back passage, despite her clench-muscled attempts to keep him out.
The sweet, dirty feel of him stretching her sphincter sent quivering waves through her belly. With all her amorous experience, she’d never received a man’s member in that most private orifice, though she’d been probed and teased enough to be familiar with the exquisite pleasures that channel could afford. I can bear it, she told herself. As long as he keeps away from my clit…
He removed his fingers, leaving her open and gaping. She swallowed her moan of disappointment. The next thing she knew, something monstrous and unyielding pressed against her loosened entrance.
“No!” she cried. “Please…” Too late. The artificial phallus he’d mentioned to Sarita slid into Cecily’s hind hole, facilitated both by the oil and her own copious lubrication. She’d expected pain, the tearing of flesh as the polished wooden artefact breached her defences. That she could have handled. Instead, the infernal toy entered with embarrassing ease, settling in her depths and triggering a wonderful, obscene sense of fullness. “Oh my God,” she gasped, as Amir wriggled the shaft and ripples of sensation wound their way down to her core. “Oh…!”
She tried to relax. She was determined not to surrender to another climax at Amir’s hands, no matter what he did.
Amir chuckled. “Like that, my lovely?”
“I, uh, doubt that it matters…ah—what I like. Ow!” He wriggled the rod, impaling her while pulling on the clamps. Agony mingled with shameful delight.
“Well, I like it, I must say. I like to see the ropes compressing your soft, ripe limbs and the clamps biting into your cunt lips. I like the lewd way the phallus juts from your delectable arse. You’re making me very hard, Miss Harrowsmith.”
He circled around the hassock to show her his cock, which he’d extracted through a gap in his garments. The rod of flesh reared up from his groin, ruddy as a pillar of flame against the white satin of his trousers. He ran his slender, jewelled fingers up and down its length, smearing the liquid that pearled at the tip until the taut skin gleamed in the torchlight. He looked utterly delicious. Cecily couldn’t stop herself from swallowing the saliva that gathered at the sight of him.
Of course he noticed. “I’d like nothing better than to bury myself in your mouth. But first you must tell me the truth about your mission.”
He disappeared from her view, a relief of sorts since she didn’t have to look at that tempting cock. Air moved behind her, tickling her damp, spread thighs. She heard the crackle of his electric implement an instant before lightning struck.
“Aye! Aw! What in bloody hell…?” She’d been stung by a monstrous bee, in the sensitive crease just below her butt cheek. Sharp pain radiated from the point of contact, fading to a throbbing heat as it curled around to settle in her cunt.
“Talk, Cecily.” Another sizzle, another vicious spark, this time catching the moist, swollen tissues of her lower lips.
“Ow!” He smoothed the glass dome down over her mons to her aching clit. “No, no! Not there, please… Aaah!” The current stabbed her, tearing her apart. She shattered, screaming, jerking in her bonds, as a raw-edged orgasm welled up from her punished flesh. “Oh God, God…” He shocked her again, letting the sparks jump to the metal clamps embedded in her labia. Agony stitched through her and yet she found herself flying off once more into climax.
“Tell me what your blasted Queen wants with us, and I’ll stop.”
“No, no, I can’t…”Cecily whimpered, limp and drained, twinges of irresistible pleasure still rippling through her body. The dreaded crackling came again. She tensed, tightening around the intrusion in her rear, expecting another jolt. The sound died away. Pain and pleasure flickered through her in alternating waves.
She closed her eyes, exhausted by conflicting sensations. Something round and silky-smooth prodded her lips. Without thought, she opened, and Amir’s hot cock slid inside.
Cecily could have sworn she was incapable of further arousal. Yet the sensation of his rigid bulk sliding over her tongue rekindled her. New moisture flowed from her exposed pussy. Her battered clit throbbed anew.
She sucked gratefully, tonguing the head, flicking at the ridge beneath, using all her considerable skills to wring delighted moans from her royal partner.
“Ah—Cecily—in this regard, at least you live up to your reputation…Ah!”Amir tangled his fingers in her hair, seizing her head and taking control. She did not fight him, but simply opened wider to give him access.