New Release! 'Model, Wanted' (BDSM serial)

I have a new release out! Model, Wanted, is the first part in my new serial. I plan to release a new chunk every couple of months so if you'd like a little sample of what's to come, keep reading for a super-sexy excerpt.

'Model, Wanted' is available to buy from Amazon and Smashwords for only $0.99!

Blurb:

Eric Rutherford is a photographer with aspirations. At the top of his game, he creates images for five star hotels and portraits for wealthy families.

But Eric has a dream. He longs to create erotic art. He has an eye for a woman’s beauty, but he doesn’t just want to photograph a woman naked, he also wants to tie her up, and down. He wants to bind rope across her breasts, tight enough that the rope leaves an imprint on her skin. He wants to have her on her knees, with her hands handcuffed to her ankles. He wants to whip her rounded pale bottom with a leather flogger, and then photograph the red stripes.

So his search for his perfect model begins and when an advert brings the beautiful, blonde Anya into his apartment, his one fear is that she’ll say no.

Follow erotic photographer, Eric, and model, Anya’s sexy exploits as they push the boundaries of not only their art, but their relationship. How far will they go to fulfill their sexual and artistic desires?

Excerpt

Back in his apartment, Eric waited for Anya with his nerves on edge. Not only did he have a hundred things he wanted to ask her, he also had something prepared which he hoped she’d want to do.

She walked into his apartment and headed straight to his studio area, not mentioning what had happened earlier. He couldn’t let it go so easily.

“What were you doing at the university today, Anya?”

She turned to him with her innocent smile. “Perhaps I was following you.”

“Really? How did you know where I’d be?”

She shrugged. “I saw a poster in the hall. I’m a student at the college.”

“Is that right?” He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. She was such an enigma. He couldn’t tell when she was being serious.

“Am I not allowed to speak to you outside of this apartment?”

“Yes, of course you can.” She always managed to trip him up. “I just …” Want to know more about you.

He couldn’t say it, not allow her into his life as any more than a subject of his art.

“Good.” She smiled. “So, what do you have planned for me today?”

From his box of tricks, he lifted a length of hemp rope. Her eyes widened, but she nodded and began to undress.

This was his time now. He would take control of her, harness her to his own will.

He bound the rope around her body, first around the narrowest part of her waist, knotting it at her navel. Then he brought one end up, between her breasts and across, to loop over her shoulder and down her slender back, down to her waist. He repeated the motion with the other end of the rope, tying it tight so the ridges dug into her soft, delicate skin. The result was that the rope tightened around each breast individually, squeezing them toward him. Her nipples were rock-hard, crinkled peaks, and he longed to touch them, graze his palm across the hardened nubs. But he did not.

“It’s not hurting you?” he asked.

Her lips were slack, her breathing shallow, but she shook her head. “It’s fine.”

He’d finally managed to affect her, he could tell.

Eric stepped back and lifted his camera, moving around her to snap shots of her bound breasts, stomach, and shoulders. Already, he could see the red marks of the rope and the thought of removing the rope to photograph those marks made him dizzy with anticipation.

But he wasn’t finished yet. He picked up another length. “Can you handle more?” he asked.

“Yes, oh, yes.”

Gently, he reached down and nudged her naked thighs apart. Again, he started with a loop around her waist, knotted, instead, at the base of her spine. This time he headed downward, pulling the rope between her thighs so it pressed between the crack of her buttocks. He looped it back over the length of rope at her navel and pulled tight, the coarse rope pressing between the delicate lips of her cunt, right against her clitoris.

Anya gasped and then exhaled a small, shuddery breath.

“Is this okay?” he asked her again, not wanting to hurt her, but still wanting to take their art to the edge.

She nodded frantically, “Oh, yes.”

Eric continued to wrap the rope around her body, framing her buttocks, encasing her thighs.

“Lie back,” he instructed. “Spread your legs.”

She did as she was told.

Such perfect contrast, the coarse material against the delicate lips of her pussy. The contact against her clit sending the blood rushing to her most sensitive area. The inner lips almost purple with stimulation. He took a number of shots.

“Turn over.”

She rolled onto her stomach.

“Lift your ass in the air.”

Every movement would be creating more friction against her clit. He saw her arousal in the wetness on her pussy lips when she lifted her ass for him, heard it in the moan she tried to stifle against the wooden floor. The rope hid the perfect star of her anus and, for that, he experienced a momentary dip of disappointment, though it didn’t last long. He knew what his next project would be—to capture her sweet little ass. Perhaps she would even allow him to penetrate her with something? He had a slim, silver butt plug that would look stunning as it slipped into that tight little hole, the light glinting off the metal.

Oh, fuck. The idea caused more blood to rush to his cock, his balls tightening, his dick throbbing. Or perhaps his cock would look better in her ass, swelling the spot at her lower back as he held himself deep.

He had to stop now.

“Okay,” he forced himself to say. “I think we’ve done enough for today. You did beautifully.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You’re not going to leave me like this?”

How did she mean, still tied up or ultimately unsatisfied?

“No, of course not.”

He got to his knees beside her, carefully undoing the knots around her middle. With tenderness, he unraveled the rope, revealing the red marks he knew would be imprinted into her skin. The rope fell in a pile beside her and she rolled her shoulders, about to move.

“Wait, just one minute.” He held a hand out, stilling her. “I can’t miss this.”

Eric grabbed his camera again, taking shots of the imprints on her skin, her shoulders, hips and thighs.

She turned her face to him, her eyes locking with his. “Are we done?”

“Yes.”

The air between them buzzed with tension. He wanted to kiss her, but he forced himself to step back, needing to keep control of himself. His life was about control, a strict regime which kept him on track. If he allowed himself to veer to far from it, he didn’t know if he’d find his way back again. Desperate to create perfection, he’d suffered from obsessive behavior about his work when he’d been younger, something that had plunged him into a depression, feeling like he’d never be able to achieve what his heart and soul desired. He’d work every hour, trying to obtain that perfect image, neglecting sleep and food, running himself into the ground.

Would she be his downfall? he wondered. Or his savior?

***

'Model, Wanted' is available to buy from Amazon and Smashwords for only $0.99! 

Some More Erotic Fiction - 'Doing the Devil'.

Doing the Devil

Sienna always hated dress-up.

Even as a kid, she resented having to peel off her own clothes to pull on the personality of someone else. She felt confident with who she was and didn’t want to disguise herself. Yet, still, every year Halloween came round and she was expected to become a different person.

Tonight was no different. Now twenty-eight years old, her good friends—a married couple called Christian and Maggie—were throwing a party and she’d been invited. Though reluctant to make an appearance, she worried too many no-shows to this type of event would eventually result in her total exclusion from society.

So Sienna donned the unimaginative but customary ‘sexy witch’ outfit, complete with stockings, a very short skirt and a witch’s hat, and headed out to the party. Pausing on her friend’s doorstep, she smoothed down her skirt and repositioned her hat. Music and voices blared from behind the door.

Knowing no one would hear her knocking, Sienna let herself in. Bodies pressed on every side, drinks held in hand. The other guests eyed her as she passed. Most of their faces were hidden behind masks—ghosts, goblins and ghouls—and she had no idea if she knew any of them or not.

She spotted Maggie in the kitchen, doling out drinks to her guests. Maggie had gone for an outfit almost as unimaginative as her own—a cat—and black lycra clung to every inch of her extremely curvy body. A mask adorned her face, with not so cat-like sparkles all over it.

Maggie saw her coming and waved a hand, beckoning her over.

“Hi!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you came!”

“I can’t believe you force me to come to these things. You know how I hate big parties.”

“You can’t stay locked up in your house on your own for the rest of your life. You’re going to die an old maid.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But sometimes I think dying an old maid would be preferable to making small talk  to a load of people I not only don’t know, but whose faces I can’t even see.”

Maggie shoved a large glass of cold white wine into her hand. “Here, get that down you. It’ll help loosen you up.”

“I hope that wasn’t a jibe at me being uptight.”

“Never.”

Sienna scoured the party-goers, trying to figure out if she knew anyone. Someone caught her attention but it wasn’t because she knew him. One of the guests stood aside from everyone else, not making the customary small talk or even drinking. Sienna caught his eye and had to stop herself stepping back in surprise. He had the most amazing amber eyes she’d ever seen—like those of a lion.

His face had been worked in some kind of make-up, like rippled, burned skin, and painted red. The red paint continued down over his naked upper-torso. He must have waxed because not a single hair marred his smooth skin or ruined the perfect paint job. Fur harem pants covered his lower half and bizarrely, big biker boots completed the outfit.

Despite the hideous disguise, Sienna couldn’t miss the broad shoulders and well-rounded curve of this particular trick-or-treater’s biceps. This guy was a hunk of beef, despite the freaky outfit.

“Who’s that guy?” she asked, nudging Maggie in the ribs and nodding over at the well-built stranger.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed behind her cat mask. “I’m not sure. I think he came with one of Christian’s friends. Of course it’s hard to tell with that weird mask, but I’m pretty sure I’d have clocked that body before if I knew him. Now please excuse me, I have to go mingle.”

Her friend sauntered away, leaving Sienna standing in the kitchen feeling awkward. She took a large swig of her wine, hoping to relax. Her eyes were drawn back to the spot where she’d seen the man in the red make-up and her stomach dipped in disappointment. He’d gone.

A voice spoke next to her ear, “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been staring at me.”

Sienna jumped and spun around to find the man she’d been watching staring down at her. His huge frame dwarfed her petite five-foot-four stature.

Her cheeks flushed. “It’s the outfit,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at her, revealing beautiful, straight white teeth. “I always like to make an effort.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I can see that. What’s your name?”

“Prince,” he told her, no hint of a smile on his face.

Sienna grinned. “Prince of what?”

“Prince of darkness.”

She laughed, “Don’t tell me you’re like one of those method actors who always stays in character.”

Now he smiled, flashing those perfect teeth. “No. I come in many forms.”

Her eyes roved his chest. “I bet you do.” She dragged her eyes away, aware that she was blatantly perving. “So who do you know here? Did you come with some of Christian’s friends?”

“Oh, I know pretty much everyone,” he laughed. “But that doesn’t mean I enjoy hanging out with them. These things are always a bit much for me. I prefer things to be on a more intimate scale.”

His words rang true to Sienna. Perhaps she and this beast of a man had something in common?

“I’m the same,” she admitted. “I can’t stand big parties.”

“So let’s go somewhere more private,” he said, moving to take hold of her hand.

“Hey, no,” she said, batting his hand away. His brazenness had taken her by surprise. “I don’t like men who play dress up.”

But he leaned toward her, his breath fiercely hot against her ear. “Who said I had dressed up?”

A delicious shiver ran down her spine and settled deep in her pussy. She couldn’t deny this guy was unbelievably sexy. Even through the make-up, she could still see his luscious full lips and the depths of those amazing amber eyes. It had been awhile since she’d been laid bare in the hands of a man, and this guy seemed like a very good place in which to break her famine.

Sienna slipped her palm into his large hand and before she knew what was happening, he’d whisked her through the throngs of people and into one of the bedrooms. A pile of coats were bundled on the bed and she stood beside it, once again feeling awkward.

“Turn around,” he instructed, his eyes burning in the dim light.

Burning? How could they be burning?

But she didn’t get the chance to think about it any further because he pulled on her arm and twisted her around so she faced the bed. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was crazy! She didn’t do things like this.

Yet somehow she wanted to. She never did anything out of the ordinary and here she was, about to put herself in the hands of this bizarre but charismatic man.

He bent her over the bed and pushed up her skirt, flipping it over her back. She stood, exposed in her panties, suspenders and heels, but even this modicum of clothing didn’t last for long. His hot hands slid down the curve of her hips, catching her panties in his fingertips. In one smooth move, he rolled them down over her ass and thighs. Sienna stepped out of the ring of lace and he tossed them away.

His hot hands cupped her buttocks and his thumbs ran down the crack of her ass, dipping down into her pussy. Moisture flooded between her folds and her inner sheath clenched in anticipation. She’d never wanted to be penetrated so much in her life.

Heat radiated from his skin, burning into her back.

How could someone survive with such a fever?

Sienna ignored all the questions going through her head, lost in the sensation of his hot hands massage her sopping slit, rubbing back and forth, sliding further between her labia just a little more each time. Pleasure soared through her body, making her head spin.

She moaned and pushed her ass back, hoping he’d get the message and push inside her.

He got the message, but it wasn’t his fingers he penetrated her with.

Instead, the fat, bulbous end of his cock pushed against her pussy. Feeling how big he was, Sienna spread her legs further, opening her cunt for him.

With a single, smooth motion, he pushed inside her, filling her. Sienna gasped—she’d never been filled so completely before and her inner muscles stretched to their limits to take him.

She dropped her hands to the bed, using the support to hold herself upright.

His cock reached up inside her as though it were an individual being, writhing, stroking, twisting. It seemed to touch every part of her, like an inquisitive animal nosing against her most intimate parts.

Sienna twisted her head around to get sight of the amazing cock, thrusting in and out of her.

His hand was wrapped around his thick length, pumping himself back and forth, masturbating over her back. Sienna’s mind blurred. If he was touching himself, then what the hell continued to thrust its way in and out of her pussy with such finesse?

Her eyes widened as she saw something else reaching from between his legs; something long, and thick, and scaly.

A tail? Surely he wasn’t fucking her with a tail?!

She tried to step away, but he caught the back of her neck in one long-nailed hand, holding her still.

I’m imaging things, she told herself, unwilling to remove herself from the crazy pleasure coiling and twisting deep in her cunt. She’d never experienced anything like it before—a whole new level of being fucked.

He stomped on the ground, the sound like horses’ hooves. She glanced back to see his head tipped back, his lips parted as he revelled in his own pleasure. But just before she turned back to the bed, she caught a glimpse of something white and curved growing from his forehead—horns!

The fear she should have felt was smothered by the ecstasy racing through her body. Nobody had touched her in such a way before, as though he stimulated the essence of her soul.

To add to her pleasure, he reached around her body and his burning fingers found her swollen clit. Already engorged with arousal, the added heat and pressure of the circular motion he applied tipped her over the edge.

Suddenly her orgasm mounted through her, too powerful for her body to contain. The room swam, her consciousness washed away, battered by the storm.

Just before she lost consciousness, he leaned over and kissed the back of her neck, his lips burning her flesh, and she heard him say,

“Now you are mine.”

Sienna woke up on the spare bed, confused and disorientated. From outside the bedroom door, the sounds of the party continued—music playing, laughter, people talking. She remembered what had happened and sat up, looking around. Her lover was no longer in the room.

Remembering how he’d kissed her, she got to her feet and made her way to the mirror. A light switch was beside the vanity stand and she flicked the switch, flooding the room with light.

Sienna twisted her neck around. Reflected in the mirror, her pale skin was now branded with a red birthmark in the shape of a kiss.

Prince of Darkness, he’d told her was his name.

And now she was his queen.

Copyright © 2012 M.K. Elliott

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

The Importance of Sex in Erotic Fiction

Now this might seem like a silly topic. After all, erotic fiction is all about the sex, isn't it? However, when a friend of mine wanted to read my latest novella, Sextraterrestrial, said she wanted to read it for the storyline but she'd skim over the sex, I realised how important the sex actually was to the story.

Okay, we all like our erotic fiction to leave us squirming in our seats or even taking part in a little one handed reading, but the sex in erotic fiction is so much more than that. When done well, it's about growing the characters - their relationship with each other and within themselves. It's about building trust and discovering  as side of themselves they may not have known existed before.

During sex, we're often at our most vulnerable and exposed. It's a time when we're as intimate with another person as it's possible to get.

In Sextraterrestrial, the main character, Jessie, is suffering from agoraphobia after losing her husband suddenly two years earlier. She's confined to her house and no longer does the one thing she loves, which happens to be writing. She's closed herself off, both physically and emotionally. It's not until a mysterious stranger - in  the form of a hot, naked man appearing in her backyard after a lightning storm - enters her life that she allows herself to explore all the sides of herself which she's blocked out for so long.

Would I have been able to write this book with the bedroom door closed? Yes, I would have, but it wouldn't have been anywhere near as emotional as the book I did write.

Sextraterrestrial is now available to buy from Amazon!

Amazon US
Amazon UK

Words: An Erotic Short

Content Advisory: For Mature Readers Only.

On some occasions, they have no need for words.

He takes her to an expensive restaurant where they sit across from each other, ever the smart, sophisticated, beautiful couple. Beneath the table, she spreads her legs for him, the clingy black dress she wears riding up her slim thighs. He knows she’s not wearing panties; he watched her dress.

Above the table they continue their conversation; careers, house prices, hobbies. But beneath, he reaches out, his fingers walking their way up the length of her leg toward the wet cleft between her thighs. Using his index and forefinger, he strokes her shaven folds. He peels her open before plunging his fingers into her depths.

To the rest of the room, they continue their charade. He holds her gaze, almost challenging her to break from the act, to cry out. Hidden from view, he finger-fucks her, adding a third finger and then a forth, impaling her on his hand. The waiter comes to the table to pour them some more wine. He stills his hand, though his fingers remain embedded in her tight sheath. She offers the waiter the briefest of smiles. Her chest is flushed, the color creeping up her throat.

The waiter moves away and he continues his movements, sliding his fingers in and out. His thumb finds her clit and he hooks his fingers inward, locating the fleshy pad on the inside of her walls that he knows will send her over the edge. He works her clit in small circles, his fingers now held deep, but still moving inside her. The scent of her arousal lingers on the air and she comes fast and hard, all words failing her. Her hands bunch above the tablecloth, her eyes squeezed shut. She’s trapped inside herself, focused only on the waves of pleasures clutching her in their grip. But not a sound is uttered from her lips.

And then she comes back to him.

At home, he pushes her onto the bed, wanting to finish what he started. He clamps his hand over her mouth, preventing any words. He drives his cock hard into her pussy, pinning her arms above her head with his other hand. Only their cries and breathing fills the room as they join themselves together.

But sometimes words are needed—coarse, harsh, vulgar. He wants to hear the come from her mouth, from the sweet lips that talk so politely to strangers, but with him reveal a different kind of woman altogether.

“Oh yes,” she gasps as she kneels in front of him, his dick brushing her soft lips. “I want to taste your big, hard cock. I want you to fuck my mouth.” Her tongue flicks out, sweeping the clear drop of pre-cum from his slit. “I’m going to lick you and suck you. I’m going to make you come so hard.” She sinks her hot, wet mouth down the length of his dick and her words are muted.

He takes over. “I love it when you suck my cock. You’re so fucking good at that.”

Emboldened by his words, she goes deeper, drawing him to the back of her throat. “Suck it harder, baby. Use your tongue.”

She does as he tells her, rubbing her tongue along the flat underside. As she bobs back and forth, the tight circle of her lips creates a friction that drives him insane.

She stops before he comes, his dick slipping from her perfect mouth, and crawls up onto the bed, wiggling her heart-shaped bottom as she goes. “You can put it in any hole you want,” she entices. “My tight, wet pussy or even my ass.” She reclines on the bed and gives him a naughty smile.

He climbs on the bed with her and suspends himself above her. He applies attention to her small, jaunty breasts. Her nipples have always been slightly too large compared to the rest of her tits and he enjoys sucking their lengthened peaks to the roof of his mouth, rolling the hard nub with his tongue.

“I love it when you suck on my nipples,” she tells him, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he says.

He moves down her body, his tongue tracing a wet trail down across her flat stomach and then pubic bone. He stops between her thighs; his tongue finding the little bud nestled below the small patch of tight curls. Her taste is so familiar to him, it could be his own.

With his tongue and fingers, he brings her close, but before she tilts over the edge, he lifts his mouth from her. “Turn over. I want to fuck you from behind.”

He likes to watch his erection slide between her swollen pussy lips, slick with her juice. He builds up his momentum, the pleasure of her hot cunt gripped tight around his erection making his head swim.

“You dirty, fucking slut,” he says. “Dirty, bitch, whore.”

And somehow these words notch everything up a level, excite them both.

“Fuck me harder,” she tells him, watching him from over one shoulder. “I want you big, hard dick to pound me so hard it hurts.”

He takes her at her word, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers moulding into her flesh. He uses her momentum to drive himself deeper, harder, faster.

“Say it!” he tells her as she slams into her, balls deep. “Tell me what a whore you are.”

“I’m a dirty little whore,” she says between gasps. “I’m your filthy little slut.”

This final admission tilts the axis and they both find their release. He comes inside her with grunts of pleasure, shooting hot steams of cum. Her pussy contracts and pulses around him and she cries out, her head hung, her back arched.

They collapse; a mass of heavy breathing, sweat-soaked skin and hot flesh. They curl together as he grows soft inside her and their breathing returns to normal. Her plants a kiss on her shoulder and pulls her against him.

And they need their words no more.

Copyright © 2012 M.K. Elliott

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.