Showing posts with label Lisabet Sarai. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lisabet Sarai. Show all posts

November 25, 2016

The Eyes of Bast by Lisabet Sarai- She Vows To Save The Man Who Is Her Soulmate- #MF #Paranormal #Erotic #Romance #Shifter

Trust your heart. Follow your dreams. 



Serial Love

The Eyes of Bast was an experiment. I created the novella as a serial, writing and posting a chapter each month as part of my regular website update. I've never tried this approach before. Although I'm usually more of a plotter than a pantster, I had very little idea about what would happen next. Each month, I'd reread the previous installment, to help me maintain continuity, and then I'd just sit down and write whatever came to mind.

The process was remarkably liberating. I could set my imagination free.

The bulk of what I write is targeted for a particular publisher and often, a specific call for submissions. I usually have a predefined theme and both a minimum and maximum word count. These constraints shape my creative process. My internal editor is constantly active. Would the publisher object to this language? Was I taking too long to get to the clinch? Was my take on the theme close enough to satisfy the requirements? 

With The Eyes of Bast, I was writing for my own pleasure – and of course that of my readers. The story could be as long (or short) as it needed to be. I could write sweet or raunchy, depending on my mood.  I could introduce plot twists as they occurred to me, without worrying too much about plausibility. 

I was writing purely for the fun of it. What a novel concept!

I'm actually pretty pleased with the way the tale turned out. I especially like the dramatic ending, which borrows a bit from horror tales. And I'm delighted by the depths my villain ultimately revealed. I have a problem writing bad guys (or in this case, bad girls). Delphine Montserrat is one of my better evil-doers.

I hope my readers agree.

--



Blurb

Shaina Williams' grandmother bequeathed her that wisdom, along with a old pendant from the Islands, carved from an ocelot's tooth. When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she'd set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice, She discovers she's caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the errant feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape - the tomcat she'd rescued.  

Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate – even though it might mean losing him forever.

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Excerpt

Tom finally broke the kiss and leaned back with a sigh. “Ah, Shaina! I should never have allowed you near me. But I was so very lonely... I wasn’t thinking straight. Now I’ve put you in danger too.”

“Danger? What kind of danger?” I reached over to flick the switch on my reading lamp, so I could read his expressions. Then I seated myself cross-legged at his feet and clasped his hands in mine. “Tell me, Tom. Tell me everything.”

“You will not believe me.”

“How could I not believe after – after what I saw this morning?”

His brows knotted together. “I never wanted you to see – I was careless...”

“But I did see. And now I know, at least something about you. But I don’t know enough to help you out of whatever trouble you’re in. Tell me the whole truth. I promise I’ll keep it private, if that’s what you want. And I promise I won’t be shocked.”

Tom’s lush mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust. “You might not be able to keep that promise. But never mind. You’ve asked. I’ll tell you.”

He stared off into the distance, above my head. “I was born in a small town in coastal Maine, about seven years ago.”

“Seven years...?”

“I was born a cat.”

I choked down my cry of surprise. How could it be...?

“Yes. I was born under a wharf. I spent the first six months of my life as a black kitten, a stray living off the scraps from the fishing boats and clam shacks. Then she caught me and made me her prisoner.”

“She?”

“I don’t even want to utter her name. There’s danger in the very word. She is a witch, centuries old, a practitioner of the darkest arts – the epitome of evil. Out walking one evening along the rocky shore, she caught sight of me and wanted me as her familiar. It was easy for her to lure me into her clutches.

“At first she just used me to facilitate her spells. The rumored powers of black cats are more than just legend. Before long, though, she began to experiment.”

His ominous tone sent a chill through my naked body. I pulled the towel around me.

“You see, her advanced age hadn’t diminished her lust. Quite the opposite. She wanted a sexual plaything, someone she could use to satisfy her perverted desires. A male body she could own and control. So she delved into her books of magic, seeking a spell that would turn her poor innocent feline familiar into a man – at least when she wanted him that way.

“Her first attempts failed.” Tom shuddered at the recollection. “She barely managed to save my life. I guess she’d grown fond of me at that point – in her own twisted way.”

“Oh, Tom...”

“Finally, she found a ritual that would change an animal into a human during the hours when the sun was banished from the earth. I’ll never forget the terror of that first transformation, when I found myself wobbling on two legs in front of her naked body. It was even worse than what came after.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, Shaina – I was human, but scarcely a man. I was barely thirteen.”


Adult Excerpt 

It was near dawn when I woke again. In the pearl-gray light filtering through the blinds, my familiar furnishings were strange and ghostly, shrouded in shadow. Stretching, I realized I was no longer on the floor. My bed had been unfolded, and I lay stretched out on the sheets, nude. Alone.

Groggy with sleep, I raised myself on my elbows to scan the room. It appeared to be empty. “Tom?” I whispered. There was no answer. A sense of unreality seized me. Had I dreamed the entire scene – the handsome intruder, the overwhelmingly sensual kiss, the orgasm that had shot me straight into the stratosphere? I recalled my devastating arousal in the stranger’s presence. What was going on? Could I be suffering from some kind of hormonal imbalance? This seemed like something more than the normal horniness of a woman who’d been celibate for a while.

Thinking exhausted me. I sank back into my pillow, closing my eyes as if that might make my doubts and confusion vanish. Sleep, I told myself. I’ll figure things out in the morning. I was already drifting back into slumber when the sound of running water roused me.

I peered into the dimness. A tall, male form emerged from the bathroom. My heart did a somersault in my chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His low, musical voice melted me. I propped myself up to a sitting position, heedless of my nakedness.
“You! You’re real...You’re still here?”

He’d discarded his clothing as well. In the half-light, I drank in the sight of his smooth, muscled limbs, becoming more intoxicated by the moment. He seated himself beside me and circled me with his arms. Heat radiated from his dark skin.

“Why would I leave, my beautiful one?” he murmured in my ear. Bending a bit, he flicked his tongue across one of my nipples. Lightning tore through me. “There are still a few hours left to the night.”
Before I could reply, he’d fastened his luscious mouth on mine. His firm lips coaxed rather than demanded a response, one I was only too willing to give. I opened to the prodding of his rough tongue, letting him taste me, savoring his wild, sweet flavor in return.

Once again a sort of delirium swept over me. It seemed we were back in the park, sheltered by trees more than a century old. My nostrils filled with the perfume of dew-soaked grass and damp earth, laced with a hint of animal musk. I felt light as dandelion down, drifting in the night wind. Only his strong grip kept me grounded. The moon rode above the clouds, invisible but palpable, stirring tides in my flesh. Desire ebbed then surged, cresting higher with each cycle.

His hands molded my breasts like moist clay. Blind with need, I groped along his furred chest and taut belly, down to his gloriously erect cock. When I squeezed, he moaned into my mouth and bit the corner of my lip. The iron-tinged flavor of my own blood simply added to the stew of sensation.

I smeared my thumb over the slippery bulb. His answer was a savage twist to an already aching nipple. Moisture gushed from my pussy. I tumbled backward, dragging him down on top of me.

“Shaina...” he murmured, breaking the kiss to lick his way along my throat. His saliva felt like liquid fire. He nuzzled in the hollow of my cleavage, then captured one breast and began to suckle. Electric pleasure arced through me when his hardness brushed my inner thigh. I squirmed beneath him, trying to align his cock with my hungry cleft.

“Please....” There was no need for me to say more. The stranger rose above me, supporting himself on his powerful arms. His eyes gleamed like phosphorescent jewels in the grayness. He smiled down at me, baring those sharp, white teeth that had already drawn my blood. An almost inhuman glee painted his features.

He hovered at my entrance, his rigid flesh teasing my engorged clit. I spread my thighs wide. Without a word, he sank his cock deep into my drenched pussy.

--

Buy Links

Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/the-eyes-of-bast

All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theeyesofbast-1789859-140.html

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Eyes-Bast-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00WMEW5K0/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Eyes-Bast-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00WMEW5K0/

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-eyes-of-bast-lisabet-sarai/1121761796?ean=9781784305079

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-eyes-of-bast

Add on GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25153711-the-eyes-of-bast

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About the Author

When I was a little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and miraculous.

Now that I'm grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of human desire with its potent enchantments. In my paranormal tales, love works the most powerful magick.

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Find out more about me and my books:

At my website, Lisabet's Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com)

And my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

I also hang out on Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai),

Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai), and

Twitter (https://www.twitter.com/lisabetsarai).

I also have a VIP readers email list where I share release and contest information and run exclusive monthly giveaways. To join, just email me: lisabet [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com.

November 21, 2016

Incognito By Lisabet Sarai- Shy and Studious By Day And Insatiable By Night- #BDSM #MF #Contemporary #Erotica

New, expanded edition!

Not for the Faint of Heart

My publisher has slapped a paragraph-long reader’s advisory on my new release, Incognito. Personally, I don’t like the prissy tone of their notice. On the other hand, I don’t want to offend any readers who pick up the book without a clear understanding that it contains taboo content.

And I’m willing to admit, some people might be shocked. The book is not for the faint of heart. Both Miranda and Mark are polymorphously perverse characters, attracted to both their own and the opposite sex. They’re natural switches, drawn to roles on both sides of the BDSM power equation. The book includes pretty much every variety of sexual encounter, from age play to cross-dressing. I’m sure that some readers would dismiss the book as nothing but gratuitous sex.

That’s not how I see it, though. Incognito is, first and foremost, the story of one woman’s journey to realize and express her sexuality. Miranda’s heart-crushing initiation into sex leaves her emotionally scarred, unable to reconcile the experiences of love and lust. She’s ultimately healed by her relationship with Mark, a man who’s open and accepting of all her desires.




Blurb

Betrayed and abandoned by her first lover, shy and studious Miranda Cahill freezes in response to any sexual attention from someone she knows and likes.

During the day, she works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, though, she finds herself drawn into increasingly extreme sexual encounters with strangers. Her anonymous secret life begins to take over when she discovers that the masked seducer she meets in a sex club and the charismatic young professor courting her are the same man.

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Reader Advisory: This book contains mention of incest involving an aunt and nephew and also scenes of incest involving a pair of M/F cousins. There is both M/M and F/F content within this book, as well as public sex, ménage et trois, swapping of partners, use of foreign objects during sex, anal sex and a scene of dubious consent.

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Story Excerpt

Miranda tried to act normal as she walked through the Literature Department corridors the next morning. Excitement about her secret find hummed beneath the surface, though. Her step was light and she could not help smiling at everyone she encountered on her way to the student lounge.

Passing a classroom, she glanced through the glass-paned door and saw Mark Anderson in front of two dozen students. She stopped to watch him. Although she could not hear his lecture, his face was animated. He smiled often, laughed occasionally, gave his students complete attention when they spoke. Pacing from one side of the room to the other like an actor on a stage, he moved with lithe grace. He used his hands, gesturing expansively one moment, clenching his fists dramatically the next. Occasionally he ran his fingers through his tousled brown locks, sweeping them back off his forehead.

Miranda found herself transfixed. His performance ran the gamut from the melodramatic to the comic. Just like Dickens, she thought. There was an ache in her chest as she realized how attractive he was, how accessible he seemed. Not at all like the arrogant, mocking gentleman in her dream.

He was totally focused on his class, but suddenly he looked over at the door. Did he recognize her standing on the other side of the glass? She felt the intensity of his gaze, and it seemed that their eyes locked for a long moment. Miranda was embarrassed, as if she had been discovered engaging in some forbidden act. Blushing, she hastened away.

Mark found her fifteen minutes later in the lounge, drinking a cup of coffee, skimming a Xeroxed manuscript and trying to calm the silly beating of her heart. “Miranda!” Pouring himself some coffee, he sat down next to her. “What did you think of my first lecture?”

His manner was so warm, she couldn’t help answering his warm smile. “Actually, through the glass I couldn’t hear anything you were saying. I was just admiring how much you were able to communicate with body language.”

“Ah, yes, the fruit of my years in amateur dramatics. You might not realize that you are looking at the favorite leading man of the Kenosha Community Theatre. Why, everyone in southern Wisconsin had heard of Mark Anderson!”

“You’re from Wisconsin?”

“Alas, yes, but I’ve been trying to remedy that failing. Graduate school in San Francisco and London. Six months working on my dissertation on a remote island in Nova Scotia. Six months ‘sabbatical’ in Thailand. And now lovely Boston, which I am enjoying more every day.”

Miranda somehow got the notion that this comment had a personal dimension. She ignored the discomfort associated with that thought and forced herself to continue with the conversation.

“Where are you living? Have you found a decent apartment?”

“Actually, I’ve got a great place, on Pearl Street.”

“In Chinatown?”

“Exactly. On the third floor, above the Jade Garden Restaurant. It’s an old building, with tall windows and wooden floors. I look out on an alley, so it is relatively quiet. The only problem is, with the cooking smells that filter up from below, I’m always hungry!”

They both laughed, and Miranda felt marginally more relaxed.

“What about you, Miranda? Where are you from?”

“Born and bred in Cambridge. Spent my childhood playing in Harvard Yard.”

“Miranda Cahill—you’re not related to Herman Cahill, the Shakespearean scholar?”

“My father. He’s retired now, living in Florida. Obviously, I couldn’t do my graduate work anywhere but here, in his department.” Miranda sighed. “All the expectations are a bit of a burden. No one mentions it, but everyone knows that I’m his daughter.”

“I’ll bet you were named after the character in The Tempest,” said Mark with a laugh.

“His favorite play,” nodded Miranda. “It is a good thing that I wasn’t a boy, or he might have named me Prospero!”

“So, what does your father think about your unconventional thesis?”

“He refuses to comment. He can be something of a curmudgeon sometimes. In fact, I think he finds it embarrassing, but titillating.”

“Well, I can understand his perspective.” There was an awkward moment of silence. Miranda stared at the bottom of her coffee mug. Mark finally spoke.

“Look, I’ve got to run. I have a student conference in five minutes. But I’d love to talk some more. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”

Miranda hesitated, nervous all over again.

“I’m as good a cook as I am an actor, if I do say so. Do you like spicy food?”

“Definitely.”

“Then I’ll cook Thai. Please, don’t disappoint me, Miranda.”

He looked so earnest, so open, and so darned attractive, Miranda could not say no. “What time?” she asked.

“How about eight? It’s 17 Pearl Street, apartment 3B.”

“Can I bring something?”

“Just your lovely self,” said Mark. Then he noticed her blush, and made his tone more matter-of-fact. “You could bring a bottle of wine, if you felt like it. Red.”

Miranda smiled, sensing that he understood her ambivalence. “I have a bottle of Côtes de Rhone that my father sent for my birthday. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Seems very appropriate.” Mark glanced at his watch. “I really have to go, but I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“See you tonight,” said Miranda. Then she sat by herself for another ten minutes, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal.

--

Adult Excerpt 

Miranda sank back into her seat and stared at the empty rows of chairs, overwhelmed by the events of the last half hour. Her success on the panel filled her with warm pride. Finally, people would begin to take her work seriously. Then there was Lucinda Scott. Publish the diary, disguised as fiction? How tempting! Here was a strategy that would preserve Beatrice’s privacy while still sharing her insights and adventures with the world. Of course, the diary was too short for a novel. Perhaps, though, Miranda could write some additional chapters. She was confident that she could emulate the rhythm of Beatrice’s prose, and Mark did say that she had a remarkable erotic imagination.

Mark! Where was he, anyway? When last she had looked, he had been at the back of the room, but everyone was gone now. She was suddenly hollow and aching with longing for her lover.

As if in answer to her questing mind, she felt a touch on the inside of her thigh. Mark? She had the urge to look under the tablecloth, to confirm that it was he, but something held her back. A finger alternated, stroking her nylon-clad thigh, then brushing the bare skin above her stocking. The contrast was exquisite, the results electric. The finger-dance along her thighs continued. Now another hand drifted lightly over her mound, tickling her through the satin. She felt brief regret as her juices thoroughly soaked the expensive wisp of lingerie, before lust overwhelmed all other concerns.

Slumped in her chair, she spread her thighs, shamelessly offering access to her hidden partner. He responded by tracing the outline of her pubis with his fingers, along the edges of the thong where fabric met flesh. Miranda writhed. She wanted him to touch her inside the garment, to rip it off and plunge his digits into her. Still, he played with her, rubbing the slippery fabric against her clit, forcing the damp cloth up between her legs, wedging the thong into the crevice between her cheeks and rocking it back and forth over her anus.

Now she felt moist heat, delicious, melting her. His mouth hovered over her sex and he simply breathed. His hands were quiet, holding her thighs wide. There was only his mouth, his breath, and the images unrolling in her mind. She felt as though he were holding a burning candle to her clit. She saw herself staked spread-eagle on a crag, her privates baked by a tropical sun. She felt herself bathed in molten gold that pouring over her folds, filling her, gilding her. The heat swelled until she erupted against his lips, juices like lava overflowing her cavities. She whimpered as her climax seared her. Hot tongues of pleasure lapped at her satin-sheathed pussy. Flames flickered on her closed eyelids.

Dimly, she felt her garters being unhooked and her soaking panties removed. Strong arms lifted her. She felt starched linen against her buttocks. She was seated on the table. Opening her eyes at last, she found Mark standing between her legs, unzipping his fly.

--

Buy Links (Ebook and Print)

Amazon US 

Amazon UK 

Barnes & Noble

Totally Bound

All Romance
An All Romance Best Seller!

Goodreads


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About Lisabet  



LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse. 

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. 

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Review Quotes

“Incognito brings a fabulous level of intensity and sensuality to the reader.” 
~ Dawnie, Fallen Angels Reviews (5 Angels)


“I had almost given up on the current crop of erotic novels, because too many of them have predictable story lines, two dimensional characters and flimsy plotting. However, Incognito is really something different. Sarai skillfully combines the present day storyline with some tantalizing Victorian history. This book is well researched, erudite, well plotted and very sexy. Highly recommended.” 
~ Emma K., Amazon (5 stars)


"Incognito is truly a buffet of pleasures, with something for everyone. There's the enjoyment of piecing together the mirroring, multi-layered narratives. Historical and literary echoes provide extra spice for the careful reader—in particular Shakespeare fans might enjoy the parallels to Miranda in The Tempest—all sweetened with abundant humor and clever feminist twists. Always you'll find masterful prose in sizzling erotic scenes that offer flavors to please any palate. And last but not least, the novel will change your view of the world in surprising ways." 
~Donna George Story, Erotica Readers and Writers Association. 

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November 15, 2016

Raw Silk By Lisabet Sarai- Three lovers, Which One Will She Choose?- MFMM, #BDSM, #Contemporary, #Erotic, #Romance

Raw Silk by Lisabet Sarai- New, expanded edition!

A Deeper Need

Erotic romance (including the all-too-famous trilogy) sometimes treats BDSM rather superficially. As I see it, BDSM is not about doing things: spanking, whipping, bondage, forced exhibitionism, or whatever. Power exchange is more a state of being, an ongoing psychic connection between the top and bottom which amplifies sensation and emotion regardless of who is doing what to whom.

I know there are some subs who seek pain for its own sake, but I have a deeper need: the need to totally surrender to a powerful other, to trust him (or her) not just with my body but with my spirit. For me, BDSM is transformational and healing, more about devotion and respect, honesty and intimacy, than about pain or even pleasure. Meanwhile, in order to feel whole, a true dominant requires the sub's willing acquiescence to being controlled and used.  Complementary needs, complementary fantasies—like pieces of a puzzle, each partner in the power exchange completes the other.

My novel Raw Silk explores this view of D/s—as do the many BDSM stories I’ve penned since that book. If you’re tired of stories that get hung up in the Red Room without taking you into the characters’ hearts, check out the newly expanded edition of Raw Silk.



Blurb

When software engineer Kate O’Neill leaves her lover David to take a job in Thailand, she becomes sexually involved with two very different men—a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic proprietor of a sex bar.

Each touches her in a different way, each teaches her different things about her body and her heart.

Then David comes to Bangkok, and Kate realizes that, finally, she must choose one of the three men who all desire her.

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Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of M/M and F/F sex, sex with multiple partners, scenes of mixed ménage, scenes of dubious consent and forced cunnilingus, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sex in public places, pegging as well as the use of inanimate objects during sex scenes.


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Story Excerpt

Gregory turned to Noi. “Help her get ready. I promised her that no one would know who she was.”

“Kate, put yourself in Noi’s hands. She’s an expert.” He bent down to whisper in her ear. “Remember, I will be watching.” She felt a hard pinch on her bottom. “Break a leg,” he said in a jocular tone, then was gone.

Noi took Kate by the hand. “Sit here,” she ordered, “and take off your shirt.” Kate stripped off the T-shirt. She was bare-breasted beneath, but the women around her did not give her a second glance. She sat at the dressing table that Noi indicated, looking at herself in the mirror.

She was flushed. Her green eyes seemed darker than usual, and sparkled with suppressed excitement. The few freckles on her pert nose seemed especially prominent. She looked pretty, alert, and very Irish.

Meanwhile, her nipples were red and rigid, perched high on her full breasts. Touch me, they almost screamed. Pinch me, suck me.

As if reading her thoughts, Noi caught her left nipple between a thumb and forefinger, and gave a little twist. Kate gasped. “You will be very popular,” observed the mamasan dryly. Kate couldn’t help blushing.

Noi began to apply makeup. Kate watched, fascinated, as her ruddy skin became pale, her freckles disappeared, her eyebrows darkened and arched, her eyes became shallow and almond-shaped. In a short time, she was looking at an Asian beauty, perhaps half-Thai, half-American, with moist, full lips and curly red hair.

“My hair…” she protested. Noi reached behind her and produced a wig of straight, black locks. She gathered Kate’s own ringlets into a tight ponytail then fitted the wig.

The transformation was complete. Black bangs cut across her forehead. Black tresses decorated her shoulders. She looked nineteen instead of twenty-eight. And, most assuredly, Thai.

The other girls gathered around. “Oh, madam, you look so beautiful.” Kate couldn’t help but smile, surrounded as she was by gorgeous female faces and forms.

“Here is your costume,” said Noi. “Gregory selected it especially for you.”

Kate grew a little paler. Was she really expected to wear this, in public? She looked at Noi in silent entreaty, but the mamasan just grinned. “Get dressed,” she said. “The dancing will start in just a few minutes.”

A corset of black vinyl, laced up the front, which cinched her waist and left her breasts bare. The briefest of G-strings, a tiny vinyl triangle that barely hid her bush plus a thong that settled deep in the crevice between her buttocks. Thigh-high vinyl boots with four-inch heels. And, finally, the leather collar she had last worn while Gregory had taken her from behind.

Fully attired, she checked herself in the mirror once more. A stranger stared back, a sultry Asian temptress. The body was more voluptuous than was typical for a Thai, full breasts and thighs that belied the woman’s youthful face. Her red-painted lips were half-open, luscious and inviting. Her skin shone already with a light sheen of sweat. Kate raised her arms above her head and swiveled her hips, as she had seen the other dancers do. The figure in the mirror moved gracefully, languidly, every motion beckoning the viewer to watch, touch, taste, possess her.


“Here is your number.” Noi handed her a plastic chip with a pin on the back. Kate had noticed all the girls wearing them. Apparently, they served as a simple accounting mechanism, for tallying the tips the girls received whenever a customer bought them a drink. She smiled wryly, noting that Gregory had assigned her the number sixty-nine.

My Inspiration for Noi a Character In This Novel

Adult Excerpt

With expert skill, he bound her wrists with the silken braids. “Silk is a marvelous substance,” he commented. “So soft, but incredibly strong. Like you, my little Kate. I know that you can endure much. Much more than you would believe.”

She shivered, wondering exactly what he meant. He was working on her ankles now, in a business-like fashion, leaving her knees bent and open so that her sex was spread wide. Every time he touched her, heat rippled through her to that burning center, still sensitive and hungry from her earlier ministrations. She squirmed a bit, pushing her pelvis toward him.

“Be still,” he said sharply. “Be patient. You must learn to wait.”

Finally, she was bound, restrained from all but the most subtle movements. She found she was panting. Gregory stood at the foot of the bed, admiring her, or his handiwork.

“Excellent. Just as I imagined.”

He began to remove his clothes. She followed his every gesture. When he dropped his shirt to the floor, Kate sucked in her breath. Marshall’s left arm, from shoulder to wrist, was elaborately and beautifully tattooed. A pattern of multicolored flames writhed over his flesh—scarlet, green and turquoise. A trick of the flashing neon, or perhaps simply the motion of his muscles, made the flames dance across his flesh as if they were consuming him. A similar flame flickered in his blue eyes as he pulled off his trousers.

He mounted the bed and straddled her with his thighs. His engorged cock hovered above her body. Despite her best intentions, she arched upward, drawn to his flesh like iron to a magnet. In response, he leaned over to pinch both her nipples, hard enough that she cried out.

“Still, I said! You are mine now, mine to do as I wish. I will fuck you, or not fuck you, as I please. But,” he added, smiling, “I do please.”

The bonds already held her wide open. Her sex was already drenched with arousal. Holding her pinned with those ice-blue eyes, he sank his penis into the heart of her, into depths she had not known existed.


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Buy Links (Ebook and Print)

Amazon US
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AUSE5NE/

Amazon UK
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01AUSE5NE/

Barnes & Noble
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/raw-silk-lisabet-sarai/1102328201?ean=9781786510051

Totally Bound
https://www.totallybound.com/raw-silk

All Romance
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rawsilk-1992519-147.html

Goodreads
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28603390-raw-silk

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Review Quotes

“This is by far one of the best erotic novels that I have read and it fully deserves every one of the five ribbons I am giving it! But it does make me wonder what the characters could do with them.”
  ~ Maree Schuler, Romance Junkies (Five Ribbons). 


“[Kate’s] character grows and she comes to realize her inner needs along with her deep sexual desires. Lisabet Sarai has a flair for sexy, sensuous romance with an edgy feel. I cannot wait to read more by this talented author.”
~ Dawnie, Fallen Angels Reviews (Five Angels).


“The Bangkok setting is fascinating and adds to the overall feeling of opulent sensuality. Lisabet Sarai deftly shows the country without ever letting the descriptions take over the story. Good BDSM novels are voyages of self-discovery, and Raw Silk is a journey you’ll enjoy taking.”
~ Kathleen Bradean, Erotica Revealed


“...this is one SIZZLING read (the ending was incredible) and should not be put on the back burner of your ‘to read list.” 
~ Alyssa, Amazon review (Five stars)

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About Lisabet




LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

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.