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Monday, December 15, 2014

Sneak Peak!!

I've been working on and have come close to finishing my next project and decided to give you guys a sneak peak at what's to come. Warning: You guessed it... its erotic! The first two chapters are tame and so that is what I will be sharing.
Suggestions and constructive criticism welcomed. Enjoy!

Dungeons and Keepers: Claudia and Demetrius
A sex slave novella by S.M. Bliss

Chapter One


I hear the loud click of the lock echo off the cement walls that keep me contained. Finally! My heart fills with butterflies of relief. It feels like forever since I was able to see the glowing red lights that lined the corridors. My keeper says he's never left me in here in the dungeon for longer than two days but I'd be lying if I said I could actually keep count. The complete darkness that surrounds me confuses my mind and body, and I do not know when it is morning or night, or how many has passed when I’m in here. Don't begin to feel bad for me though, I have happily chose this life. ‘How?’, you may wonder. I simply trust in my keeper.


My name is Claudia, and when I first met Demetrius, my keeper, I could not have guessed that he would have the hold on me that he does now. He used to just cash my checks and now I take his deposits. He was handsome with a wide warm smile that welcomed me as soon as I would walk into the bank every Wednesday. His hair was dark with a crisp lined haircut at all times. His face was soft and smooth and rarely had shown evidence of a five o clock shadow. His eyes were dark as well, wide, and lined with thick eyebrows. He was so sweet and charming that when he had asked to spend some time with me it wasn’t easy to say no. Of course, I eventually gave in, thank goodness he was persistent, because by the third date I realized I had finally met my match. I had waited so long to find a man like him, dominant, knew exactly what he wanted, and wasn’t afraid to tell me how he wanted it done. I was so eager to please him, I would’ve done anything he had asked me to do. When he asked me to be his sex slave, I agreed easily and eagerly. When he gave me the details or the guidelines rather of what this would mean in our relationship, I was a bit taken aback. I questioned why we couldn’t just hold a regular courtship that included our rough kinky sex, and he admitted to me that he felt at home with me and wanted to shape me to be his perfect wife. Most women would run away being approached this way as many of us tend to have the, take me as I am attitude, but not me. No, I waited for a man who would finally put me in my place. I’ve always had a hunger for sex and could be bossy in my needs which normally turned my boyfriends away, but not my keeper. He knew how to handle me and being his submissive made me feel like I could finally let go of my need for power and still receive amazing sex. So I agreed, toured my new play place, read the rules, thought it over, and agreed to everything including the lock-a-ways.


Recently, I've been locked up for longer periods of time than when I had first agreed to become his slave here. He says it’s because he likes it when I am hungry and frankly I do too. Nothing taste better than a mouth full of his cum when I haven't eaten in days. The stomach pains become motivation to please and force him to feed me. Today my stomach is hungrier than ever.


When the heavy wooden door is finally pushed opened the lights that burst in through the crack sends a burning to my eyes but I blink it off. I'm met by another beautiful slave girl, who has a towel and some leather straps folded in her arms. I've seen her before, her big brown eyes reveal her identity to me. We were made to fuck once, it was my punishment. She had been wearing a mask then, but I would never forget those begging brown eyes she had. She stood there unable to speak though, since her keeper kept a gag in her mouth while she was out of her cage. She had a habit of kissing the others slaves, something that is strictly forbidden, I guess the whippings didn't work on her. Maybe she was just asking for it, who knows though, we all have our vices. Without having to say a word, I knew I was to follow her. I let my mind wonder as I walk along with her, I’m trying not to stare at her voluptuous body and instead try and concentrate, guessing at what was coming next. My keeper was unpredictable and there was no telling what was to come, especially after a lock-a-way this long.

 I couldn't help but to notice the large red welts the slave girl wore on the cheeks of her ass as she moved along in front of me. She was in just a tightly laced-up corset leaving her large breast and trimmed fat cunt bare. Probably some type of humiliating punishment, but that was just my guess which was just as good as the truth to me. It’s not like I'd ever find out. The slaves here weren't supposed to interact with each other, although, I've heard some slaves sneaking conversation. I wouldn't be caught even trying. I couldn't imagine the punishment my keeper would impose on me and frankly it wasn't worth looking to find out.


Chapter Two


The sultry red-assed slave stopped just at the entrance to the door less washroom, and handed me the things she had been carrying for me. After going through this a couple times I know the routine; I know I am to bathe and dress. Sometimes, my keeper would order me to bathe, some days he preferred to take me uncleansed which was always humiliating, but like I said before he’s unpredictable. I used to hate this part but I've gotten as used to it as I think I possibly can. Personally, I prefer to shower myself but there were assigned washers to each slave here, usually with a set of instructions specific to their keepers needs. The only standing instructions with my bath maid was to keep a completely shaved body at all times unless otherwise instructed.


As usual, I lowered my cold naked body into the hot water of the old copper tub and relaxed my shoulders back as the bath maid drew my long black curls into a high bun on the top of my head and begins my face mask. Once she’s through she puts the hot towel over my face and then goes straight down to trim my growing patch. I never get used to this, the shaving was always done for me and all I could do was wait nervously until she finished. She pushes my knees to the side and used her short stubby fingers to spread my fat pussy lips apart and lathers me up in an intoxicating soap before she started gliding the blade across my sensitive skin. The terrifying thought of the maid accidentally nicking my clit or asshole always burned through me until she was done with the task. Next, she grabs a phallus like squirt bottle filled with cleaners, carefully inserts it into my opening, and squeezed the contents of the bottle inside me until it was empty. She did the same to my anus, which was slightly uncomfortable, but not painful. She was gentle and so good to me. Honestly, it was something I look forward to as messy ass play always turned me right off. The santorum grosses me the fuck out, frothy fecal fluids, it fucks up the sheets. I wonder, what do the laundry maids think of all this? I’m able to relax now and enjoy my bath as she lathers my body in a sudsy vanilla scent soap using a very soft sponge, shaves my legs and armpits as well, and then last but not least applies a pleasant soothing oil from my neck down.


I slid on the leather straps of the cup less leather bra pretty easily. The metal rings sitting under my collarbone were tight to my skin. I must admit the wide straps under and around my breast forcing them to tight, round firm tits, was quite appealing. My breast almost looked like they were choking in their harnesses, forcing my nipples erect as if they’re reaching for release. There was nothing else but a thick black belt that hung onto my hips with metal loops hanging around the entirety of it. The bath maid reached up to release the bun atop my head but I reached up and did it myself instead. She was much shorter than I, she stood as tall as a dwarf, maybe 4’11", where I am 5’5"; there was no use in making the woman reach. Long thick curls draped down my back, past the top of the belt and into the curves of my ass. This outfit was so suiting to the boldness of my being that I could barely contain myself as I gawked in the mirror. “Whoa,” is all I could allow myself to say in front of the bath maid. My olive feet, legs, and meaty thighs were slick and shining, my ass cheeks were even meatier and holding up the belt around my waistline. Shit, even with the dimples here and there it was something beautiful to set your eyes on. Luckily, I haven't eaten in days so my ass is clean enough to serve my keeper his dinner so that’s what he wishes. My tummy is flat, not skinny though as I still maintain my thick hourglass figure; just the right kind of hungry I like to think. It was my breast that intrigued me though. This bra, wasn't just any bra, it felt more binding. I could feel the warming pressure at the base of my breast that pushed them through the empty whole in the leather harness. They turned a darker shade and were full with fat and blood, revealing bold perky heated tits. I touched them lightly, sending sharp sensations right through my nipples. The bath maid smacked my hands knowing I wasn't supposed to touch myself.


My keeper was a selfish stubborn one, but I knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted his terms back when this first began. Once in a while, when I need a good release, I break the rules but he always notices and I pay the consequences. They aren't terrible enough not to get caught again. Maybe my keeper knows this, and is secretly softer then he seems, but I doubt it. He probably just enjoys the thought of me enjoying myself.

Chapter Three

My heart is pounding in my chest as I approach the door I've been longing to enter. “I hope he likes them,” I say to the bath maid while looking down to my breast again as she walked me on the way but she didn't answer me; she just met me with a funny look. I guess bulging tits and bare asses weren't her thing. I shrug it off and push the curls out of my face. I feel sexy as hell, in spite of miss bath maid's silence. She knocked on the door before opening it for me, revealing my keeper who’s standing in the middle of the room tall and handsome with his hairless chest bare and slack linen white pants alongside of a huge wooden wheel contraption with four shackles in the shape of an 'X'. My eyes lit up! I had never seen one of these before but it was obvious what it was to be used for. Although, I did try my best not to appear excited at all, there’s no use in inviting unnecessary roughness, but I’m not sure I hid that very well. I let myself in the room relieved to have a sense of privacy from those wide open halls. I still feel embarrassed walking around bare like this. I'm waiting for a hint at my keeper’s reaction as I stand here waiting but there is none. His face is relaxed and hard as stone as he watches the maid until she is out of the room closing the door behind her. He is gorgeous as he stands in front of me built like a god ready to be worshipped. His eyes tell me I’m in for a hell of a night, and I sure hope I’m reading them right.

“Good evening my keeper,” I great him sweetly. I’m so excited to be in his presence I can barely contain my smile, I did miss his touch, I was hungry for his touch, my body craved him like a feign. He moved closer to me and let his large palm rest on the small of my back warming my skin underneath it. Such a small gesture filled me with raw emotions of security, desire, and greed. I wanted him to take me in his arms and lift me onto him but none of this is about what I want.

"I knew this would suit you well," his deep smooth voice melts into my ear. He uses his fingers to trace the black straps around my breast before giving my nipples a quick hard pinch. I winced but did not make a sound. I stared him hard in the eyes, I wanted him to see the lust I had built up reflecting in my pupils. He could see it, I could tell by the way his eyes started squinting as if he was trying to read my mind. I swear he did when he laid his hot lips on mines, kissing me with a powerful force of desire. His tongue on fire and dancing with mine to a rhythm that was our own. His hand started to explore from the small of my back to my hips and rested on the top curve of my ass. His hands felt intense with heat as it happened to be the only thing warm about me was the skin under his embrace and my insides.

“We’re going to have to warm those up,” my keeper whispered through the kiss as he caressed each of my ass cheeks lightly.


He walked away and left me to stand alone by the doorway. I didn’t move or begin to follow him. Once I am in this room, I know not to do anything without being told to do it first. I had learned through paid punishments that I don’t care to speak of. My keeper stood by his chest of our play things with a paddle in one hand and a flogger in another looking perplexed as to which he wanted to play with. After a moment, he sat on the leather bench at the foot of the bed and patted his thighs, a motion for me to lay over his knees. He was a man of few words so I did not hesitate to walk over. I notice he chose the flogger.

I love the flogger. I can’t wait to feel the burlap strands stinging my skin. It is a delicate hurt that I enjoy. I almost reveal a smile as a lean over. I strategically lay over his lap so my pussy lays just flush against the crotch of his thin cloth pants. He grabs onto the metal ring that lays just above the crack of my ass and uses it to keep me steady as he begins to lay his blows. My clitoris began to swell as each smack rocks me forward, rubbing on the fabric over his stiffening dick, and I’m so sensitive right now I’m feeling his girth grow underneath me. He delivered as promised and didn’t stop to let me up until my cheeks were red hot with blood ridden strap-mark like stains. I was drawn to his growing erection that appeared to be stuck and suffocating against the fabric as he lifted me off him. He did not rub my welts until they were no longer stinging though, he wasn’t that kind of keeper. He wanted me to feel the burn.

 I wanted to feel the burn.


Stay tuned.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Just remember not everyone likes chocolate. Not everyone wants marriage. Not everyone likes anal. But it doesn't make it wrong.

So I've broken my mold! I'm currently working on my first non paranormal erotic short (yeah, I'm crossing niches...who cares!) and while doing my research and socializing I've found my subject #bdsm and the term #sexslave, really gets people worked up, good and bad! But one thing that really twitched my eye was when race played a factor. Ex: White Dom white sub/slave- little reaction, Black Dom white sub/slave-interesting, BUT white Dom black sub/slave- OH HELL NO!

Not too long ago I read a thread by Zane, who I love reading, where alot of her readers/followers became offended, enraged, and weary of the thought of a writer's  white husband's being her master in the bedroom.

Don't get me wrong, I know my history but I think when it comes to sex with our HUSBANDS race should not come into play. Without the race factor, without the labels, in the end its about the natural urge to be dominant and the natural urge to want to be dominated. Is it for everyone? NO! Shit, after reading 50 shades of grey I remember my sister telling me something along the lines of I wish a MFer would try to put me over his knee, Fuck that shit, while others were swooning over the thought.

So I'm left with this opinion:

Just remember not everyone likes chocolate. Not everyone wants marriage. Not everyone likes anal. But it doesn't make it wrong. Do not shame others on their sex life. A white husband wanting to play Dom nd Sub in the bedroom, does not make him a racist with the hopes and dreams of owning a white slave (unless he really is). Point is don't assume, don't judge, and if you want to call that man your Masta don't be ashamed. That's your mate, fuck him good and have fun doing it! If you don't...politely decline, don't make a mockery of it, and fuck anyway!

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Take it to the head. Erotic poetry.

Fresh out the shower;
I sit upon the bed.
He's licking the Dutch closed;
Cravings encircle my head.
He places the flavored cigar right between my lips;
Lays me down and makes a home between my hips.
The lighter flicks and i inhale;
Smoke fills the room with intoxicating smells.
He nuzzles his nose into my cleft;
I breath out all the exotic smoke that my lungs have left.
He works away between my knees;
With a heated desire to feed.
Again, i toke, but not with ease;
I'm choking, its potent, and its hard to breath.
I exhale but at the same time i have no relief;
My kitty is purring and he's in wrist deep.
Like a fountain, the liquid is quenching his thirst;
But not before he makes sure I come first.
The ash drops hot on my chest;
A reminder to Puff, puff, pass...smoking at its best.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The Monster Mash: The Werewolf Bus Boy

Get your copy of the second episode of The Monster Mash novella :

FREE for Kindle Unlimited members and Matchbook

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

The Monster Mash: The Werewolf Bus Boy

The second episode in The Monster Mash Halloween edition novella is ready! Bernard is due to report to work on the night of the full moon to bus The Tavern for the annual Monster Mash. Anxiety sets in as he realizes he's going to have to juggle his work and his approaching shift accordingly so that no one in Smalltown becomes a casualty to the feeding frenzy.
This title is not erotic though it does have a mild sexually explicit scene. This tale is more of a paranormal horror.

Stay tuned for the download links late tomorrow.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Hunters by Aoife Marie Sheridan

Hunters The Demon Series #1 By Aoife Marie Sheridan Abigail is nineteen. Her job, she hunts demons. Her life so far has been tough. Having witnessed her family’s death and her mother’s suicide, she’s been taken in by a priest, who believes her when she says that she sees ghosts. Father Peter trains her as a demon hunter with three other members, one being Daniel, who isn’t what he seems. But when a possession goes wrong, and ghosts start to attack Abigail, the tight rope she has on her emotions soon starts to loosen. Abigail draws the unwanted attention of the Reote, and she finds out a lot more than she was willing to learn. Knowledge is power, but for Abigail, it’s her undoing, and the only thing keeping her together is Daniel.

I truly enjoyed reading this book from beginning to end. It was full of action and information that I didn't want to put it down. She is a talented author and I highly recommend her story. Her relationship with Zee is captivating. The transition between past and present was executed smoothly. Get your copy and read for yourself.

Purchase Links: - - About the Author: Aoife Marie Sheridan has loved reading from a very young age, starting off with mills and boon's books, given to by her grandmother her love for romances grew, by the age of 14 she had read hundreds of them. Aoife had a passion for writing poetry or in her eyes her journal entries. It was something she did throughout her teens and into her twenties. Aoife won first place for two of her poems and had them published at a young age of just nineteen. Realising she needed to get a real job (What writing isn't) she studied accountancy and qualified working in that field for many years, until her passion for reading returned and she found Maria V Snyder. Poison study one of her favourite books has been read and re-read countless times. Aoife's first book Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) came to be after a dream of a man and woman on a black horse jumping through a wall of fire and the idea of Saskia was born. Now with her first novel published and taking first place for Eden Forest with Writers Got Talent 2013, Aoife continues to write tales of fantasy and is currently working on her third book for the Saskia Trilogy amongst other new works. To contact Aoife you can email her at Website:
Twitter: Google Plus: Linkedin:
Amazon Author Page:

Friday, October 17, 2014

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

The Monster Mash: Pixie's Trick and Treat

Beware of things that go bump in the night though. Pixie the fiery fairy has been waiting all year to attend the annual Monster Mash of Small town. Not to dress up though but to be herself. She decides to let her wings loose and get into so mischief and that's exactly what's she finds when she run's into Drake, the Dracula man who catches her attention amongst all the other monsters and ghouls. This short novella is perfect for a quick read to get into the holiday horror. Download this $0.99 novella by clicking HERE Free for Kindle Unlimited useres and Lenders

Monday, October 13, 2014

Freestyle Poetry -

Over whelming winding paths,
Leading me away from broken past.
Looking behind,
but still running towards a new frame of mind.
Winding paths begin to straighten,
My humbled soul begins to strengthen.
The voice inside me loud and proud,
The voice that screams out the time is now.
One step at a time the path is rough,
But I learned that each step is a step enough.
As long as my feet are moving and the path is swooning,
I AM Success.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Halloween Edition Novella: The Monster Mash (Pixie's Trick and Treat)

I love Halloween! The day you dress up as whatever you want to be. Beware of things that go bump in the night though. Pixie the fiery fairy has been waiting all year to attend the annual Monster Mash of Small town. Not to dress up though but to be herself. She decides to let her wings loose and get into so mischief and that's exactly what's she finds when she run's into Drake, the Dracula man who catches her attention amongst all the other monsters and ghouls. This short novella is perfect for a quick read to get into the holiday horror. Here's a short exerpt: *** It was Hallow’s Eve in Small town and Pixie finally arrived home to her open loft after working a long day at the hair salon. Every woman in town was getting primmed and trimmed for the annual Halloween Monster Mash tonight at The Captain’s Tavern. Almost everyone in the tight knit town at least made an appearance. It was the one day out of the year attention hungry skanks were able to walk around and show off all their goodies and of course the husbands allowed their lonely housewives to join in on the fun as it was their guaranteed ticket to get front row of the grand goodie display. Pixie was exhausted, but wasn’t about to miss the party. She had waited all year to finally go out and let her wings loose. Being a fairy in a town that didn’t believe in Supernatural beings worked to her advantage. Pixie’s identity had never been questioned, she was able to work a creative job that she loved, and no longer held any of the demands that living in Fairyland had commanded. In Fairyland, fairies were given folklore education until they graduated and then were assigned a job within their community. Mostly, casting protection spells around the land. Fairies were very powerful creatures and were constantly sought after by other less powerful supes for their blood. The magic of fairy blood is very powerful and can cure and create anything the holder can imagine. She quickly tired of playing Pixie the protection fairy and decided to run way. After many stops along the way she found comfort in Smalltown and began her normal life. The only downfall to Pixie pretending she was human was having to constantly hide her butterfly like wings which actually hurt after a few hours. The skin that attached them to her back became irritated at first but now after a years she had gotten used to the pain. Yes, living as a human took Pixie sometime to get used to. Especially, with all the men swooning at her feet. For some reason humans were enticed by the scent of fairies. Pixie’s been told she smelled of all the wonderful smells in the world but her favorite was the comparison to a warm sugar cookie. A few of the women in Smalltown adored her and were drawn to her for her creative advice. If there was a question about their hair or fashion she was the go to, while most of the other woman were filled with envy and jealousy as soon as Pixie entered their atmosphere. The men, well they all flocked to her, but not for her advice that was for sure. While most women could only dream of men literally on their knees for a date, it was a nightmare for her. She could never tell if the men were actually genuinely into her or just simply under her spell. Pixie was an extremely attractive young woman. She was tall, standing at 5’11”. Yeah, she pretty much looked down at most of the other women in town. Her skin was the perfect shade of caramel and had a glowing complexion. A trait most fairies carried. Her statue was angelic and her face was comparable to a lavender eyed cherub. Pixie was perfectly proportioned from head to toe. She left behind the silhouette of an hour glass. Her hair was cut short in a smooth flowing slick back style. Not the typical short spike cut a lot of other woman pull when they decide to cut all of their hair off. Pixie finally broke out of her apron and constricting tee shirt. Her wings peeled away from her back one by one. She sighed of relief as she flipped them out and fluttered them a bit to stretch. They were about two feet wide and were very strong. They were polyessense in color and glimmered in the light. She was naked now and hovering in front of her full wardrobe. Her large full breasts bounced as she zipped back and forth between her closet racks and body mirror. She did enjoy flying around while no one was looking. She felt free and at home. Plus her feet hurt like hell after a day on them. She barely used them before she moved away from home and now she was on them pretty much all day as a stylist. Finally, after an hour Pixie made up her mind. She laid out her short white open-back dress, gold heels, and a gold head chain. She showered and dressed making sure each and every detail of her outfit was totally perfect. Pixie even added a little extra fairy dust to her already shimmering wings. After spreading them wide she gave them a gentle flutter to set in the sparkling dust and blotted her perfectly pink lipstick in the mirror before she was ready to go. Pixie decided it was a great night to let her wings flap in the wind and since the tavern was only three blocks away she decided to walk to the monster mash. After only one block in her sleek gold skyscrapers she was ready to give in and fly the rest of the way. With much self-restraint she finally made it to the rustic building. Pixie pulled open the heavy wooden door and made her grand entrance. It was as if the entire bar went silent as she caught the attention of the costumed local patrons. She truly resembled an angel. Pixie was unapologetically stunning. She overheard a couple arguing a few feet ahead of her. She giggled as she put two and two together. The woman’s husband must have been gawking because the woman stared her down like prey with beet red cheeks. Pixie was amused as she never witnessed steam come out of someone’s ears until tonight. Pixie playfully winked in the direction of the couple and continued to sashay her way over to the back end of the bar where she found an empty stool. Without a wave or a word the bartender dressed as a pirate gave her his full attention. He was pretty sexy with his long shaggy locks and well groomed beard. An eye patch covered one of his honey brown eyes. “Argh!” He grumbled, trying for his best pirate accent. “What’ll it be for the fine angel tonight?” “I’ll take a shot of your holiest water, please,” Pixie teased. “Cute AND funny, huh!” The bartender flirted. “I’ll have a martini, dry. Thank you.” “Coming right up!” He flashed her a wide smile. ‘Eager to please.’ Pixie noted. She could use some pleasing. She hadn’t had a good lay since she left Fairyland. She had been dating an Elf for a few months but when she left Fairyland, she had to leave him too. She felt like a coal miner trying to find a gem; In an underground tunnel; With spikes. Pixie glanced around the bar looking for prospects but mostly she was met with stiff looks from the ghouls and goblettes that sat closely around her. She grabbed her drink and gave it a whirl before taking it down in one throat full. Fairies have a very high tolerance for alcohol and Pixie was looking to get into some mischief. “Hey Captain!” She cried out, “Another!” She dangled the empty triangular glass above her head. The pirate’s uncovered eye bulged surprised at how quickly she had finished her drink. “Aye!” He answered and quickly poured up another. He sat in front of her, licked his lips at her, and got back to tending the rest of his callers. This time Pixie sipped slowly. By the end of her second drink the place was becoming packed with witches, devils, and whatnots. The jukebox was blaring Halloween clich├ęs one after another. I Put A Spell On You came on and Pixie had to stop her wings from fluttering. She could not help but to sway along. The twinkling angel pushed her long skinny fingers through her clutch for her cigarettes careful not to damage her perfectly manicured stiletto fingernails. She took one out and lit it while she waited for the pirate to bring her another cocktail. Pixie heard a strong deep voice from behind her, “I always wondered what a fallen angel looked like.” She turned around and met the black piercing eyes of a slick Dracula. He looked like Brad Pitt in Interview with a vampire. Slicked back hair, smooth clean cut face, and fair skin. Really fair, Pixie thought to herself. He must have had white powder on his face for extra effect. “You are enticingly beautiful,” the Dracula sang. He was extruding confidence from his very pores. The vampire man stood tall with his spine straight. He grabbed her hand a laid a kiss on the top. His lips were cold and slightly wet. “So I’ve been told,” Pixie giggled. It’s not that she was conceited but that she knew very well the affect she had on humans. In turn it had made her a little arrogant. It also made her job easier when weeding out the losers who were too timid to deal her confident nature. “I’m sorry, Are you with someone?” He couldn’t make a guess based on Pixie’s cold response. “No.” Pixie smiled. “So you won’t mind if I take this seat then?” The man sat down confident that she wasn’t about to reject his company. He raised his arm and tried gesturing for the busy pirate working the bar. “Bright idea to have one pirate manning the deck during the Mash.” He was impatient. “What’s your name?” he asked while waiting. Pixie. She pronounced it with an exaggerated ‘X’ sound. “Pixie?” The man’s one eyebrow raised. “Something wrong?” “No.” He replied calmly. “That’s just an unusual name. You do know that, right?” “What about you, handsome,” Pixie was three drinks down and was finally loosening up. “What do I call you?” “Drake,” he stated flatly. Drake was still trying to catch the pirate’s eye. “Drake,” Pixie snickered. Talk about unusual names.” “It suites my outfit wouldn’t you say,” He was a bit of smart ass, it seemed. He was becoming visibly flustered at the lack of service though. “Here, let me help you.” Pixie anchored one of her heels onto the leg of the barstool and leaned over the bar revealing most of her high thigh as she did so. “Hey, Captain!” The pirate turned around quickly and smiled in her direction. “Another please! This time on this guy’s tab!” She motioned to Drake who was still waving his money at the bartender. “I’ll have a double of rum with that,” he added handing the bartender his money. “Maybe next year I’ll dress as the angel,” he joked. Pixie couldn’t figure out what was going on in this guy’s head. He was hard to read. He had a bad boy mystery to him. He was very handsome too. Something about Drake was intriguing. She was drawn to him. It could have been his slick physique or his notable confidence. It was most likely both; either way the attraction was strong. Pixie’s pussy was growing warm at the sight of him in conjunction so beautifully. Pixie decided then that she wanted to take this man home with her and clear out the fairy dust that was building between her thighs. Metaphorically, of course. She was feeling free and ready to strike for gold. Her drink arrived and again she took it down at the same time Drake took his shot. He was barely shocked to find her glass hit the bar counter at the same time as his. “Wow,” Drake said out loud, “I like the way you just take those right on down.” He smiled revealing perfectly white straight teeth. “The trick is to relax and open up your throat,” Pixie flirted blatantly. “You know, just let it slide on down.” Drake’s eyes thinned. He took his hand and ran it from Pixie’s collarbone ,up to her chin, measuring her neck with his hands. Drake used his other hand to pull her close enough to feel his hard pressing crotch. “Nothing like a fallen angel who knows how to use her throat.” Pixie felt her body warm. Her skin began to light up. “Buy me another, and I’ll show you again,” Pixie was finally feeling a buzz and was planning on enjoying it. *** Stay tuned to get your link to download the rest free this week.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Halloween Edition...or Editions?

I guess I'm dedicated enough now to announce that I almost complete with a short project I started a few days ago. I thought it would be fun to play on my favorite holiday, and bring a Halloween themed novella out for the occasion . So far, I have one storyline down but I'm hoping to work in a few between, well... everything else! The Monster Mash: Pixie's Trick and Treat, will be another paranormal romance. Pixie is a fiery fairy that has been hiding amongst humans who know nothing of her true identity. She had been waiting a year to finally let her wings loose. What better place to blend in than the annual Monster Mash? She went to the party looking for a good time and ended up finding the mischief she was looking for when she runs into Drake, the Vamp fairy hunter who is put under Pixie spell. This one has been fun. I can't wait to post up the finished results!

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Not sure if I posted the link to download In Death and Desire via Amazon Kindle. Read, Enjoy, and Review!

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Assasination of Margaret Thatcher.

Although I have not read this recently released title, I chose to write about it because of an issue a lot of writers deal with. Condemning critics. Author Hilary Mantel's literary fiction , The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher, has been receiving lots of heat about the title's content. The author who previously won The Man Booker Prize and National Book Critics Circle Award is now being deemed as 'sick' and 'bile'. Lord Bell has even gone as far as suggesting that the police should be investigating her over her 'sick' and 'perverted' tale over an interview conducted by The Guardian where Mantel recalled a moment when she had see the late Prime Minister and explained how she had thought about what it would be like to kill her.
As writers we put our imaginations in all sorts of questionable situations. Every time a character is killed off in a story we are essentially imaginatively plotting out their death. I myself have put my characters in situations that would make anyone uncomfortable. I've been told that my choice to include these situations have left a few of my readers with such a bad taste in their mouths that they refused to read any further. Of course this was discouraging at first, but after some time I no longer felt shamed or embarrassed. Why should I censor the way I envisioned this book for a few critics who did not have a taste for this kind of writing? Writing about rape was not an easy task. As a former victim of sexual abuse I had to step away from my own feelings so that the readers could not detect my own bias and could only interpret the characters feelings. I felt in order for my story to make senses the way it had in my head then it was absolutely necessary to walk the thin line of 'too much'. Does it make me a rapist? Does it mean I should be investigated for potential sexual crimes? These questions are absolutely ludicrous! Any good writer thinks, imagines, and creates vividly with no biases. I applaud Hilary Mantel's bravely as she shamelessly explains her thought process behind her latest book and enjoying the line as she walks it.
Yes, everyone has a right to their own opinions. Don't like it. Don't read it. Simple. No author should have to be censored or bashed for having an open mind, and the courage to openly share their gift. While critics on Twitter question The Guardian's choice to promote Mantel's book; I congratulate them for making a path for uncensored, unbiased, and nonjudgmental promoting.

S.M. Bliss.

"...the horrible surmise that those whom the rest call mad have, all along, been the only people who see the  see the world as it really is."
-C.S. Lewis.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Dreams on hold

When I last blogged I had left working two jobs and began another. I ended up so wrapped up with my responsibilities as a providing mother that my responsibility to myself had been forgotten. My love of writing was put aside out of exhaustion. The attitude I carried left me with 'no time' for writing. After about three years of hardship and soul searching I ended up finding what I was missing. My passion. During my sleep my mind was still thinking about my unfinished project. Writing has always filled me with such passion and relief. It was until I picked up my paperback of my first book that I felt that excitement and passion again. I reread and re-edited my original manuscript until I felt it was readable to others the way I had originally imagined it to be. Once I was complete I was filled with the creative energy to begin writing the second book in the series.  I took my new edition of the book and started it anew on Kindle. Within the first week I earned 80+ downloads! The fact that I was able to reach so many readers filled me with great joy. I'm back! Death and Purgatory is coming along great! I'm looking to find like minded readers who would enjoy my stories. I just want you guys to enjoy reading my works as much as I enjoyed writing them!