Sunday, December 15, 2013

The Novice Christmas Chapter Tour - Chapter 8!

Welcome to The Novice Christmas Chapter Tour. This is a very special tour as over twelve days the first twelve chapters of The Novice, book #1 in the Sexy as Hell Trilogy by Harlem Dae  will be published, one per day, per blog, for you to get a taste of Victor and Zara’s wild and erotic journey. You can find the other chapters here. (Please note The Novice was previously titled The Virgin but changed after a dispute with Amazon.)

About Sexy as Hell – Sexy as Hell is an erotic trilogy that will submerge you into the black heart of a world of bondage and discipline, Dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.

Dare to take this twisting journey with Victor and you’ll learn the ropes with him, experience every carnal sensation and fall into a dark and dangerous love that grips like a fist and binds like a collar.

Get to know Zara, his sultry teacher, and you’ll gasp when she doles out her sinful instructions but then delight in the stunning results she not only demands but achieves. It seems Heaven and Hell are not so far apart when she holds the reins.

Victor has his layers peeled back, but when he does the same to try to get to his Vixen’s core, a revelation appears. Because Zara is a woman whose vast sexual experience is both her strength and her weakness; she can inflict pain and pleasure, make lusty demands and instruct, but she needs so much more, she needs…

Yes, the time has come to for her to admit to her needs and confess to the repairing her soul hungers for. A sea of memories, a lifetime of control requires an acknowledgement that will cut through her barriers, and there’s only one man up for the job—her virgin, her student, her newly trained monster, Victor Partridge.

Please note, in order to enjoy Victor and Zara’s adventures, the trilogy must be read in order.

The Novice is the first book, the second The Player and finally The Vixen. Here is the back cover information for The Novice.

London – one meeting, one month of lessons and a landslide of depraved new desires.

My journey to hell started with a decaff coffee. Nothing more than a grey mug full of dull-brown liquid devoid of its most useful ingredient.

One sip, one smile, one touch of her hand and it was soon clear my life wasn’t destined to stay dull. Oh, no, suddenly I had a month of bedroom education planned by a sultry vixen who intended to broaden my horizons beyond my usual peach-pink palette. 

She wanted to take me to deep purples and navy blues and the pitch blackness that was pure sin. And on the other side of that blackness was a place that might look like Hell, with debauchery and wantonness, people playing devil’s advocate, luring innocents into the hotter, steamier corners of the world.

Her world.

Oh, yes, she promised each night to take me there and paint me an orange-and-red picture that would come alive, flickering like flames, enticing me, holding me spellbound and eager to learn more. To touch, explore, drown in coming.

And drown I would. I was no match for her tricks and taunts. My only chance of survival was to show her that I was no vanilla virgin. I had a rainbow of mastery up my sleeve, too, and if she just opened her eyes, she might be dazzled enough to stay—stay and take ‘my’ lessons. If she didn’t kill me first, that was, with pleasure.

So what are people saying about the Sexy as Hell Trilogy? I’m pleased to report that it’s all good, no, more than good. This trilogy has been described on Amazon as “far better than the 50 Shades of Grey”, one reader said, “I've read many erotic novels and BDSM books but these ones are by far my favourites.” another stated, “I was looking to be titillated yes, but instead was captured by the story of Zara and Victor.” You can read all the glowing reviews on the Harlem Dae website, plus read the FREE Harlem Dae magazine with all the inside gossip about the Sexy as Hell Trilogy and what it was like for two authors writing nearly 300k together and how their characters inspired them to keep on writing.

So finally, with just a last warning that this story is boundary pushing, hot, edgy and dark and not for those of a delicate disposition. It’s BDSM primarily but has a slow burn romance that tips everything on its head as feelings intensify and souls are bared.


The Novice

The Player

The Vixen

Chapter Eight

I’d got to him, just as I knew I would. If I wasn’t mistaken, that flicker in his cheek and the slight grimace that he’d tried so hard to hide were side effects of him coming. I’d watched him throughout for telltale signs that he’d been wanking—shoulder bobbing, cheeks flushing—and yes, he’d gone red-faced, but other than that had remained completely still. So he hadn’t wanted me to know. Interesting.
Carlos breathed deeply under his hood, his exhalations loud and rasping as he stood in front of me facing the viewing windows. I imagined his face pouring with sweat as it tended to do when he participated in shows wearing the hood. This had been the first time I’d made him come with words—me doing something different—and I’d found it very enjoyable. I thought about whether that was because it had turned me on or that my sole aim had been to torment Victor. I couldn’t deny the latter had been a major turn on, knowing he watched, knowing he’d never seen anything like it in his life before.
How had he felt seeing a man taking something up his arse? Seeing him come all over the floor with no physical stimulation? I had no idea; he hadn’t given anything away with his facial expressions except that he was in control and what he had seen was your everyday event. I’d have to work harder in the future to elicit a reaction from him, to have him admitting, if only with the lift of an eyebrow or the slight parting of his lips, that he’d been shocked.
I revelled in the prospect of persuading Victor to admit to his emotions and reactions.
Shoving at Carlos’ back so he pitched forward in surprise, I snapped, “Get the fuck out of here, slave.”
Carlos turned around and stumbled towards the door at the rear, hands out, careening blindly. I watched him in my peripheral to make sure he didn’t stagger into a wall and, once he’d left the room, I breathed easier. I was alone, and a surge of pure dominance filled me. This was my show now, and Victor was about to get another hard-on if I had my way.
I eased my hot-pants over my hips and arse, letting them sail down my legs. Once they reached my ankles, I stepped out with one foot then lifted the other, the shorts dangling off the tip of my boot. I flicked my leg, and the hot-pants streaked through the air, smacking into Victor’s viewing window then hitting the floor.
He jolted.
“It’s a shame you can’t sniff them,” I said, holding back a smile and staring right at him. “Smell my cunt juices on the gusset.”
He flinched, but I’d only just caught sight of it. Oh, he was good, doing so well.
“Or lick the gusset. Taste me,” I said. “You’d like to taste me, wouldn’t you?”
Groans from other customers filtered into the room, but I wasn’t interested in those. Tonight their pleasure wasn’t my concern—only Victor’s.
“Yes, you’d like to taste me. I wonder,” I said, raising my hand to press a finger to my bottom lip, “if I said ‘Lick my cunt’ you’d turn me down now.”
More groans, but Victor’s lips were firmly sealed and I couldn’t discern whether his moan had been among the others.
“Would you?” I asked. “Turn me down? Who would deny themselves the chance to sup at my sopping pussy?”
“Not me, Mistress,” someone whispered, their voice filtering towards me.
I ignored him. Jabbed my fingers into my cunt and finger-fucked myself. Jerked my hips, widened my legs and exposed my wet flesh. “You hear that? Hear the noise of my juices?” I nodded. “Yes, you can, can’t you? Oh, yes…”
I closed my eyes, drawing my fingers out and using their tips to frig my clit. With two fingers of my other hand, I spread my lower lips apart, opening myself wide, flaunting my plump and ready pussy. Something he couldn’t have right now. Something I needed him to want with such urgency he’d take me up on the very first offer I’d thrown his way any time I asked.
Lick my cunt.
I rubbed on, opening my eyes to stare at him, keeping a smile of satisfaction at bay. I had to stay composed, in role, showing him what he should expect if he deigned to fuck me. And he would, I’d make sure of it.
As the month wore on I planned to broaden his horizons beyond the pastel pink-and-peach palette it had been before he’d met me, taking him to deep purples, navy blues and the pitch blackness of pure sin. And on the other side of that blackness was a place that might look much like Hell, with debauchery and wantonness, people playing devil’s advocate, luring innocents into the hotter, steamier corners of the world. Oh yes, I’d paint him a red-and-orange picture that came alive, flickering like flames, enticing him, holding him spellbound and eager to learn more. To touch, explore, and drown in coming.
My thoughts set me off, and I rubbed myself harder, almost at the brink. I looked at Victor through half-lowered lashes, dashing my tongue out to lick lips I wished he was licking. The fact that I was being watched by several men melted away and it became just me and Victor, my journey to orgasm a private viewing just for him. My pelvis bucked of its own accord. Pleasure ripped through my body, radiating from my clit and undulating to every nerve ending, fizzling there before making a return trip. My clit felt as though it was going to explode. All my synapses fired at once, an almost unbearable feeling, but I rode it out, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth.
Victor lifted a hand, bunching it into a fist over his mouth as though he was coughing politely. I was too far gone to smile, to laugh at any arousal he was trying to hide, and fondled myself faster. My breaths came out as stuttered gasps edged with soft moans. His torso jerked in time with my hips, and as the burn of true orgasm finally crested, I knew he was coming with me. Satisfaction from him spurting twice in such a short space of time coupled with satisfaction of a sexual kind, and I was lost to the frenetic movement of my fingertips. I bit my bottom lip and glared at him while my body shuddered. I dared him with my eyes to deny his cock throbbed, ached mercilessly from what he was seeing, and the look he gave me in return said he wouldn’t be able to if he tried. He closed his eyes, his lips forming a thin, tight line, and shivered.
The room filled with grunts and groans in varying pitches, and I wondered, as my orgasm receded, how Victor felt to know several people had climaxed all at the same time. Did he feel dirty? Or had it liberated him, to share this experience with unseen strangers? And how did he feel about me now, after seeing what I did for a living?
Why did I care?
I didn’t.
My cunt zinged with aftershocks. I lowered my pelvis and removed my hand, lifting it to slide my wet fingers into my mouth and suck off my juices. More moans, a strangled cry, a man coming right up to his window and pressing his palm to it as though he was touching me. Still I stared at Victor, unwilling to look away first. It was a battle of wills as I drew my legs together and dropped my hand from my mouth to let it dangle by my side. He blinked—once, twice—and took his fist away from his face. A small smile formed, one that could have been him being pleased at finding release, but I preferred to think of it as a victory on my part, that he was acknowledging that yes, I’d taught him something and he’d enjoyed learning.
He glanced away briefly, and that was enough for me. I strode towards the window and pressed my corset-covered tits to the glass, licking the pane as though I French kissed his mouth. He stood and walked the two paces it took to reach me and, in one of the boldest moves I’d ever seen him perform, he licked too.
I had him.
Right where I wanted him.

After I’d showered and changed out of my corset into a sweater and my fluffy jacket, I headed for the foyer and stopped short in the doorway. Victor sat behind the desk, no receptionist in sight. He had one ankle balanced on his opposing knee and swivelled the chair as he stared at the front door lost in thought. One elbow dug into the armrest, and he brushed his lips back and forth over the length of his index finger. I wondered what was going through his mind. Was he trying to work out how to call off our month-long adventure? Did he have such huge regrets that he contemplated telling me to leave him the hell alone? His narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks made me think he did, and it was with quite a hefty dose of surprise that I realised I didn’t want him to end it.
Not until the agreed time.
Slapping on a grin, I flounced fully into the room.
“Ready?” I asked.
He shook his head, coming out of his daze, and stared at me as if it were the first time he’d seen me in his life. He frowned, blinked, then jolted, seeming to become fully aware of his surroundings. “Sorry, miles away.”
“Everything all right?” I asked, going for the normal, breezy approach.
“Um, yeah. I was just…” He lowered his hand to his lap and gave a barely there smile.
I knew what he ‘was just’ doing all right. He was just thinking about what the hell he’d got himself into since he’d met me. He was just thinking about Julie, me and Carlos, although I wouldn’t be telling him that the man who was in charge of keeping an eye on his car had, in fact, been having a butt plug shoved up his arse while said car owner was staining his trousers with hopefully the best ejaculation he’d ever had. He’d find that out shortly.
“Never mind,” he said, standing and putting on a smile as fake as mine.
He walked around the desk and joined me, and without saying another word I opened the front door and went out into the cold of Eden Street. He followed and stood beside me, glancing up and down.
“Uh, where’s Carlos?” he asked, looking worried.
“He’ll be here in a minute, don’t get your pants in a wad. And they are in a wad, aren’t they? You know, taken off, bunched into a soggy ball, now sitting in your jeans pocket if that bulge is anything to go by.”
“You’re disgusting,” he said, then chewed the inside of his cheek.
Was he trying not to laugh?
“Yeah, but you enjoyed it, didn’t you?” I cocked my head and raised my eyebrows.
He stopped glancing about and looked at me. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“That. The job you do.”
I shrugged. “It’s a job like any other. Why, how do you do yours?”
“Point taken.”
“Curiosity getting to you?” I asked, stamping my feet to ward off the chill that was already seeping through my boots and into my toes.
“A bit.”
“Thought it might. I mean, it’s difficult not to be intrigued, isn’t it?”
He nodded, and we stood there for a few moments without speaking, the only sounds the faint swoosh of traffic and the incessant tapping of my boots on the cobbles.
“Ah, here’s my beautiful Spanish friend, look.” I nodded to our left.
The Porsche pulled up at the kerb and Carlos climbed out, taking just an extra second to unfurl his body from the sporty car. He wore jeans that sat low on his hips, but no top. He was just acres of muscle coated in flesh. Flesh that held some very distinct flogger marks.
Victor’s mouth dropped open, and he appeared as if he had something to say but didn’t know how to say it.
“There you go, no harm done,” Carlos said, straightening. “She’s all yours again.” He grinned and brushed past Victor, their arms touching, before he rapped smartly on the club door.
“Come on then,” I said brightly, scooting around the front of the car to the passenger side. “Better be quick. Before someone tries to steal your midlife-crisis carriage.”
“Don’t joke about it,” he said, giving me what he must have thought was a stern glare. “And who says I’m going through a midlife crisis?”
“I do,” I said over the top of the car.
“I’m bloody well not,” he said, dropping into the driver’s seat.
I climbed in. “You bloody well are. Otherwise, why on earth are you driving something as obscenely pussy-pulling as this, and why do you pick up strange women in coffee shops?”
“You said it,” he muttered, slamming his door and revving the engine to life.
“I said what?”
He stared at me through the darkness. “Strange women. You. I picked you up.”
No, I picked you up.
“I think you’d better take me home, don’t you?” I laughed lightly. “Otherwise we might have a falling out.”
I buckled up.
After he’d done the same, he looked at me. “Take you home?”
“Oh, it’s just that I thought…” He frowned, pursed his lips.
“Thought what?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I didn’t think anything at all.”

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