Toy Review: Shiri Zinn Vegan BDSM Beaded Collar and Lead

Shiri Zinn Vegan Necklace Collar and Lead BDSM

As a writer and reviewer for the Erotic industry for over a decade, I sometimes feel I’ve seen it all. However, there’s one brand which consistently produces items to excite and enthral even the most jaded or hardened hack: Enter, Shiri dildo and feather and stand shiri zinn sex toy

Straddling the gap between art and fashion, functionality and eroticism, Shiri Zinn offers esoteric accessories for the bedroom and beyond. Stunning speckled glass love eggs and butt plugs vie for attention with space-age rose quartz dildos. A metre-long Italian snakeskin whip set with a zircon stone is available made-to-order, while a diamante studded flail whip comes in the extremely limited edition of…one.  There are glass dildos with Swarovski crystals, and vibrators with a maribou feather tail and a display stand – because of course, they’re so stunning you’ll want to display them in plain sight. If you’ve seen her cutesie Cupcake or musical i-Scream vibrators you’ll know Shiri Zinn’s sex toys have a sense of humour, and yet there’s nothing lightweight about her seriously considered objets d’art. No wonder Shiri says, ‘I can tell you it’s very, very difficult to create what I’ve done…’
Bjork in BDSM shiri zinn dildo and harness beaded beautifulI’ve written before about the oh-so delicately beaded, red leather strap-on harness I received from Shiri Zinn along with a coordinating ceramic, gold-leaf dildo – as seen on Bjork, above. Six years on, this decadent duo in its remains in pride of place in my extensive whoredrobe (what can I say, a burgeoning sex collection comes with the territory!). Since then, the matching harness and dildo set has been extended to some twenty-two items with the same glass bead detailing. These include ankle cuffs, an eye mask, a ball gag, a collar and lead, a paddle and an ornate spreader-bar, each available in four separate shades of vegan leather. As Shiri explained, ‘The Shiri Zinn website is the only place you can find a matching set.’

I asked Shiri to explain how she came up with such a diverse colourway for her latest beaded BDSM collection, ‘My inspiration was do something difference for the fetish industry, to do something that’s not like the usual drab black, and to do something very colourful and beautiful that borders between jewellery and couture, which is what my brand is known for. I tried to find the absolute best quality vegan leather, and is PU of the finest, silkiest quality. I’ve used beautiful ostrich print for the gold and black but kept the red and teal smooth.’

Behind such ostentatious presentation is a lengthy design and developmental process, as Shiri explains: ‘The patterns, the formations, the shapes of the beadwork are my own, as are the patterns: I spend a lot of time in RND creating these patterns. Then, from drawings and re-drawings, I have my own samples created. I had this idea for a BDSM Couture range for about ten years, and I translated it in a very short time, although the development and quality control of the actual collection took a full year – which is a short time for me: my i-Scream [vibrator] took two years, as did my Cupcake [vibrator], as did the very desirable red strap-on harness in lambskin, which was such an amazing hit I made it in different colours… I had a problem with using leather for that, but at least lambskin is a by-product, and I feel much better to have since created a vegan leather collection.’

In transitioning from leather to vegan leather – this despite the runaway success of her original lambskin harness – it’s clear Shiri Zinn is not one to rest on her laurels.  As she explained, ‘I do use animal fabric too, but sparingly in limited editions. I just think mass production is not necessary if there are other options: my red leather strap-on harness is not mass-produced, nor is my limited-edition snakeskin whip. I feel more comfortable doing vegan collections for fetish: the nature of fetish can have a kind of Dominance or submission which I don’t like associated with leather: so much of the industry uses leather and I really don’t see the need to slaughter animals en masse in order to have sexual pleasure. I’m not going to judge, but I’m no longer going to design anything myself which is just classic leather; where the beauty is in the leather. Hence, I made something very beautiful and put the focus not on the exclusiveness of real leather and its smell, etc, but more on the exclusiveness of real jewellery, handcrafted to perfection. So, each piece must be treated as delicate because it is delicate jewellery. However, it’s wearable and durable.’

As spellbinding as Shiri Zinn’s latest collection is, it would be remiss not to address the subject of cultural appropriation. As the Africa Fashion UK website elaborates, ‘For many years, African communities have been the source of inspirational ideas, unique raw materials and many other contributions to fashion – but they have not always benefited from the success of the international fashion industry they have inspired.’

I happen to share a workspace with a Ghanaian guy called Will, and our friend Violet – who’s from Kenya – popped in as I was writing this piece. Clearly cultural appropriation is a significant concern that I’m unable to discuss here in any depth, or with any personal integrity seeing as I’m a white Brit. However, my friends were happy to share their thoughts: Will said that Shiri Zinn’s choker was ‘really very beautiful’, and that for him there wasn’t an issue with cultural appropriation as long as the Africans making the items were being paid properly.

Meanwhile, Violet – who coincidentally sells Kenyan jewellery as a sideline – was also complimentary about the design. She felt a collection featuring African designs and handiwork could only serve to boost the profile of African jewellery in general. That said, they both acknowledged theirs were only two opinions and other Africans may feel differently, ‘there’s a whole continent out there’, offered Will. Neither he nor Violet had any issues with Shiri stating, ‘The African style is very close to my heart – I was born there and lived there for 20-odd years. I’ve worked with African art since my schooldays, and my entire portfolio from my four-year Fine Art diploma was built around my African-style photography and paintings. Basically, I’m a white African designer.’Blue beaded BDSM gag shiri zinn and vegan leather collar and lead

So, what of the manufacturing process of Shiri Zinn’s beaded BDSM collection? Understandably, Shiri prefers to keep the production process close to her chest: ‘I don’t like to disclose my trade secrets, but of course it’s nice for consumers to know. So….  the items are Fair Trade and made in an indigenous rural environment. They’re made by genuine craftspeople for which a Fair Trade price is paid – which the Shiri Zinn brand supports. Each one is painstakingly handmade, no two are the same, the beading is real glass beads’.

From handstitched beading to handmade glass, each item from Shiri Zinn boasts a uniquely personal touch – something a mass-produced brand would never be able to achieve. An ethical designer who’s keen to move with the times, be it vegan or Fairtrade, Shiri makes exquisitely styled sex accessories unlike anyone else. So, have we seen it all? I doubt it. Shiri Zinn is a niche – yet vital – tastemaker for the luxe end of the adult industry: with every new release she blurs fashion/ art/ fetish boundaries to propel her vision perpetually forward. The Shiri Zinn brand will remain relevant because it’s unique and subversive enough to be timeless. Prepare to be excited and enthralled.
shiri zinn blue paddle bdsm beaded vegan leather

Visit the Shiri Zinn website where, according to the designer herself: ‘If you buy 3-6 pieces of the BDSM collection per colour you get a 10-20% discount – if your chosen items are in stock’.Shiri Zinn ankle cuffs vegan leather bdsm feathers
Shiri Zinn vegan leather BDSM logo

Books: Tom Barry

When the Siren Calls

How to snag a married man – or maybe not.

“Men are bastards, all they are interested in is getting into your knickers.”  This is the conviction that taints every observation and each piece of advice by the fearsome Tessa, confidante of fellow air stewardess and smouldering seductress, Lucy, in my latest book “When the Siren Calls”. In Tessa’s world, the art of seduction is a win-lose battle between the sexes, a game of manipulation in which no holds are barred.

The particular bastard in question is the man of Lucy’s dreams, the enigmatic lothario Jay; handsome, rich and commanding but, unfortunately, married. Here’s more from Tessa: “And your Jay is the worst type of bastard, a smooth talking son of a bitch who uses money and good looks to turn an innocent girl’s head.” Now readers of my book may question just how innocent former glamour model and lap dancer Lucy is; her pulling technique when Jay was otherwise engaged by the attentions of Lucy’s supervisor, also on a mission to snaffle the uber cool Jay, was to slip him a business card with two words written on the back – “I’m wet.”

In a world where you, me and everyone else is manipulating those around them to get what we want, is Tessa’s ‘winner takes all strategy’ the way to get the man of your dreams to leave his wife for his mistress, Lucy in this case? Tessa is in no doubt: “Jay’s been fucking you, and when a man fucks you, he owes you. As long as you keep giving him everything he wants, he’s going to keep taking it, who wouldn’t for fuck’s sake?  Before you know it you’ll be menopausal, and you’ll still be waiting for the bastard to do the right thing.”

Lucy, whose instinctive strategy to snag a married man is to screw him senseless, is unsure whether putting the future of her relationship in her friend’s sharp, steely, hands is the way to go. But Lucy’s doubts are crushed by the power of Tessa’s overwhelming logic:  “The only way you are going to get Jay to change his behaviour, is if you change your behaviour first.”

What changing Lucy’s behaviour turns out entail is putting the fear of god into Jay that dire consequences will befall him unless he succumbs to the will of his mistress. And we are not talking threats and ultimatums; think “Fatal Attraction” but notch the stakes up 100%.

Tom BarryTo find out whether Lucy succeeds on her quest, you will need to read the book. But where I’m going with all this is that we live in a society where women are bombarded daily with advice on the art of seduction. From magazines like Cosmopolitan to books like “The Rules” and “Why Men Love Bitches,” women are constantly pulled in different directions. Should they act the siren, or should they play hard to get?  Maybe it depends on the guy, different strokes for different folks, and all that.

For men it’s so much easier, the advice is simple and consistent: do whatever it takes to get into her knickers 🙂

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

News: Fundraising for Laura Lee’s Legacy

Sex Worker Laura Lee Challenges Prostitution Laws In Northern Ireland
Sex Worker Laura Lee Challenges Prostitution Laws In Northern Ireland

As reported last week Laura Lee, the law-graduate sex worker and indomitable human rights activist died at 39 leaving behind a teenage daughter.

As her colleague Miranda Kane wrote:

“Laura Lee was a fighter, an activist, a friend, a mum and a pain in the Oireachtas arse.

She went through so much; she was exposed, abused by the press and had her life turned upside down just so that she could fight for the decriminalisation of sex workers – a fight she never gave up on.

She was an advocate, and would help anyone who asked for guidance and support.

Laura was one of the most fiercest, but friendliest people I was ever lucky enough to meet. She loved to laugh and make jokes. She had such a way of making people feel at ease, even though we were all so much in awe of her.

She worked so hard to help and never asked for anything back. This is our chance to say ‘Thank You’, to let her family know she will always be remembered, and she was, is and always will be an inspiration to many more who will keep the fight going for Laura’s Law.

Laura was spirited, kind, beautiful….but above all, she hated nuns.”

Visit Miranda Kane’s Just Giving Page for Laura to contribute to the legacy of this remarkable woman.

Features: Why visiting a prostitute is not what you think by Miranda Kane

Miranda Kane Wonderful WomanWhat’s the first thing you’d think if someone said they were going to see a sex-worker? Do you imagine them driving through King’s Cross and picking up a streetwalker for £20? Or diving down an alley, walking up some dark steps to enter a red-lit, smoke-filled shadowy room where the girls line up for selection?

Do you ever imagine your friend walking out of a tube station into a tree-lined street in a suburb in London? He walks up to a discrete house, that looks just like any other, and the lady who answers is smiling and welcomes him into her warm home that smells of fresh coffee and baked biscuits..

Ok, so maybe it’s not that into the realms of suburban fantasy (although an escort friend of mine once asked why she had loads of appointments, but they hardly ever showed up. ‘I’m ever so nice,’ she said. ‘I always send the directions, and finish the text with ‘I’ll put the kettle on!’. This was met with both howls of laughter, and a small lesson in Suspension of Disbelief. Basically, the client is coming for sex, not popping round to his friendly next-door neighbor for a cup of tea.)

But my point is that sleeping with a sex-worker isn’t the dingy, seedy, salacious process you might think. It can be bright, cheerful, and just a lovely way to have some intimacy when none is forthcoming.

Like it or lump it, Sex-Work is here to stay. Always has been. So let’s give a small lesson in How To Stop Panicking and Love The Girlfriend Experience.

What’s that you say? The Girlfriend Experience? Qu’est-ce que c’est?

Yes, that’s what we call it. The Girlfriend Experience is basically sex, and all the foreplay, licking, snogging, sucking, groping, fumbling, and fingering that comes with it. It’s not Domination – so no gimp masks, dog collars or ball-gags needed – and it’s not the Porn Star Experience where limbs fly from pillar to post to get twenty-three positions in a one-night stand. No, we’re basically doing what most couples do when they’re at the height of the honeymoon period. No equipment or even experience necessary.

But some people still can’t get their heads around it! They still can’t see why women who offer The Girlfriend Experience enjoy it.

But what’s not to love?!

Certainly, there are women out there who are working against their will, and it’s sad I have to put this caveat in. Believe me, I wish they weren’t as much as the next person. But the world has got to realise that it’s not the case for all sex-workers. So don’t go off-topic – stick with me and my brethren of ‘happy hookers’

But back to your friend – although, we should establish who he is. You’re probably imagining it’s the extrovert one, who talks about sex all the time, tries pulling everything in a skirt, and always flirts at the office party. He’s the one you probably think is most likely to see a Sex Worker. Now imagine one at the other end of the scale – quiet, shy, a bit of an introvert but perfectly pleasant and polite. Now he is most likely to see a Sex-Worker. Mainly because number one is pretty confident that he doesn’t need to pay for it!

So get Mr Shy in your head for this exercise, and we want the best for him, right? So he’s done his research; picked a fine looking lady from the internet, read her website and reviews, and asked all the right questions to see if he thinks he’ll feel comfortable with her. He’s happy he’s made the right decision, and here’s a few reasons why.

  1. They’re not always cheating

Contrary to popular belief, not all men who visit sex-workers are sex-mad perverts cheating on their wives. Some just want a bit of intimacy they wouldn’t otherwise be getting. Yes, some are cheating in their relationships, but you can’t use that brush on all of them. Some find it difficult to find partners for a variety of reasons; they might be a bit too old to stand at the bar of Jumpin’ Jacks and hope to pull, they might have mobility issues, they might even just be a bit shy. Some *sharp intake of breath* might just not be very attractive. Or at least they don’t think they are.

I’m not saying all our clients are disabled OAPs who looked like the back end of a bus, just that everyone has needs. And we’re here to fulfil them.

But most of the time, it’s average looking men, of every age, who just wanted to have sex. Imagine your friend has been single for a few months, and he wants to have something he can spend his day at work thinking about, something that will help him escape, something to look forward to.

  1. We’re not from a porn movie.

I have nothing against porn, don’t get me wrong. But we’re not fembots made exclusively for sex. We have lump, bumps, bellies and muffin tops. I’m a BBW – at my largest I weighed 25 stone, so we don’t all need to look like we’re leggy blondes built for twerking. As for the myth that we should be hairless from the eyebrows down, save for shaving my legs and armpits, the rest of me remains completely au natural and that’s the way clients liked it. One of the main things clients would ask me on the phone was about my bush, and I’m proud to say I’m a power-muff girl.

The one time I tried a Full Wax lead to disappointed clients, itchiness, and a nasty bout of thrush, so I decided to leave it as is ever since. I feel sorry for girls growing up today who think that’s what you need to look like I’m not sure where your body image would fit into the petition for sexual education, but if it was up to me I’d have leaflets, booklets, and a powerpoint presentation on why girls shouldn’t emulate the stereotypical women in the LA porn movies. Generally ending in the summary of ‘cos it’s not what all men want.’

Hell, it’s not even women in Porn. Watch any reality TV show set in LA and the women are too skinny with massive breasts, tweeked faces, straw-like hair, plastic teeth..some before they’ve even hit 20.

  1. Discretion

The appointment is a transaction. It’s happened for an hour, and afterwards we let it go. You’ll hear nothing from us.

Let’s go back to your first friend – the loudmouth. He’s pulled a girl on a night out, told her how gorgeous she is, bought the drinks in, took her back to his where they chatted about mutual interests. She’s really digging this funny, outgoing guy. He wants to get into her knickers. Sex happens, and it’s the next day.

Of course I’ll call you!’

Maybe he says it, maybe she does. But if one of them believes the other one will, and they don’t, they might feel a bit put out. Texts, calls, social media messages…a general air of ‘I thought this was more’ ensues.

Gosh. Pretty rubbish feeling, that. Probably from both sides; that feeling of guilt when a message comes through, or of being used when that message isn’t replied to.

Maybe it’s my simple mind, but I never could understand why a guy would spend a wad of cash on going out specifically to pull – maybe new clothes, taxis, drinks, food – when he could have spent the same amount on picking from the plethora of lovely ladies who are sex-workers, and enjoyed a moment of safe, sober and very satisfactory sex without the emotional hang-ups.

  1. Pride


We Take Pride In Our Work.

We do! And not just because of the threat of a bad review. But why wouldn’t we want you to enjoy it? If you’re digging it, so are we. A good escort will establish what the clients needs are, what he wants, what he wants to try and we’ll do our best to fulfill them if we can/want to. Obviously he might ask for something we’re not prepared to do, which is why I tried to establish their requirement during the initial phone call. It saves a stern ‘No’ during the heat of passion later on.

Also, we want the environment to be safe, clean and comfortable. Lots of fluffy towels, warm water, clean sheets. Not only do we have the things they need (condoms, lubricant, wet wipes) but we’ll try and have everything they might want; from drinks to shower gel, I’ve even had a pack of spare toothbrushes on hand, just in case.

  1. Safety

It’s important to research who you’re seeing – check how long they’ve been working, if they have reviews, or even a blog you can read. If they’ve just got one profile on a listing site with badly written text, a stock picture and a price that’s too good to be true, chances are you’re walking into something you don’t want to.

It’s common sense really, you might be paying a lot more for a lady with a long background, well worded website, up-to-date blog, but it will be worth it.

Put it this way, if you saw a Lexus on Ebay for £70, do you think ‘I’ll have that!’ or do you think ‘Something dodgy going on there’?

It’s amazing how that logic flies out the window when the possibility of sex with a pretty lady is on the line.

  1. We’re good…but still human.

We’re good.

Well, we are!

But we’re not mind-readers. Neither have we all studied the Kama Sutra on top of a mountain in Thailand for several years. We just have…experience. And that experience gives us initiative. Coupled with the fact we don’t have to see them again, it can also lead us to take risks. Sexy risks, not stupid ones.

For instance, if a client calls me up and just so happens to drop into the conversation that he’d like me to wear red nail polish on my toes, I have a fair inkling that he’s got a foot fetish. So I can tease him with them, say ‘ you like my toes? I did them especially for you…do you want to kiss them?’ They say yes..and Boom! We’re away into something a bit more dominant (a foot fetish being the basic, most popular request I get from sub guys), or they say no like they have every right to, and we carry on with the GFE.

But that’s from experience, from learning, from listening and talking to clients. Before that guy came along, there was probably a dozen clients who gave me that request but I never picked up on it until No. 12 said ‘Hey, I have a foot fetish.’ Once something like that clicks, I can use that approach on another client who just thinks I’m being Bloody Awesome.

It’s like being a magician. You think I’ve just pulled that trick out of my hat, but in reality it took several years and a lot of clients before I had the confidence to pull it off.

  1. You’re not paying for nothin’…

Ahh, the great myth that escorts are there to hang on someones arm for the evening, looking pretty.

Sign up to our agency now! Millionaires want to take YOU for dinner*!

*Subject to a £300 admin fee.

Let’s get this straight. Never, EVER in my years as an escort have I know ANYONE who was just taken out for dinner.  The ‘implication’ is, was, and always has been that Sex Will Happen.

The only time I’ve ever actually been taken our for dinner was when clients specifically booked a Dinner Date, but even that comes with two hours ‘Private Time’. (That was more popular with clients visiting from overseas. They wanted to go out, feel like they were on a normal date, but have a guaranteed fuck at the end of it. Fine by me! But I would always try and split it so I met them for the first hour, had dinner, and then we had the second hour. It gave them time to recharge the batteries.)

If you see an ad for ‘Escorts wanted, no sex involved’, they always come with an admin fee. An admin fee you’ll never see anything from, ever.

  1. …unless you want to.

Ok, despite sex always being on the menu, not all of my clients wanted it.

Some had just wanted light foreplay.

Some were happy to play with themselves whilst I spoke to them.

One just wanted spooning – without it even turning into a fork.

They were few and far between though, so that’s why this bit’s really short. But it had to be noted.

  1. An unlikely friendship.

Believe it or not, some sex-workers and their regulars can become friends. I’m not saying we go to giving freebies, but I – along with several working girls I know – did actually strike up a bit of a Thing with some clients.

It’s hard to explain – I never contacted them unless they contacted me, and if the conversation was obviously happening because they were horny, I’d tell them they should book an appointment. But I’m quite stern that way – I like things on the level. Some of the best working girls I knew who had regulars by the bucket load were ones who would take the ‘out-of-hours’ calls and texts, and sure enough would get the business, but only because they’d treat them kindly, they’d like the flirting. They weren’t doing it to get an appointment, they were just doing it because it was fun for them.

Even though money wasn’t exchanging hands, they were still getting something from it. It fascinated me because I just wasn’t prepared to step over that line. But ones who did got a lot more from it then just extra bookings. One girl got snowed in, and when a client saw it on her twitter, he came round and dug her out. Another mentioned she was going to a Christmas party, and a client dropped a little extra in her postbox the next day. I can think of other examples, but when I describe them I can feel your mind wondering how they twisted these men round their little finger, or pleaded poverty so the clients felt sorry for them. It was nothing like that. They were just…friends. They were nice, without any want or desire of remuneration.

This was something that both baffled and surprised me. I seriously wasn’t expecting escorts to make friends with clients without there being something in it for both of them. I was often tempted to explore this myself, but could soon see my patience wearing thin, and quickly losing it altogether!

  1. It turns me on.

There. I said it.

It took me a long time to come out with this, the most basic fact of Why I started, Why I Continued, and Why I Miss it.

Sleeping with strangers, for money, turns me on.

It fulfills quite a lot. Despite Domination being a popular request from clients, I’m quite the sub. Knowing that for that hour I belong to that person, I’m there to do his bidding is a bit of a knicker-fizzer. I never could quite let myself go though, sense and sensibility always prevailed. I never put myself in a dangerous situation, nor did I actually take Dom clients. For me, being a sub and actually experimenting with what that is involves trust and knowing the other person. (I guess that’s why it was always really confounding for me when clients asked for Domination sessions, but were always really vague with what they wanted that to involve).

I can’t say it’s the same for every escort out there, but I imagine there are a lot who feel the same.

As I see more and more what sex-worker rights activists are doing, I understand the cry of ‘Our bodies, our choice!’. This feeling I have, this desire, this urge isn’t something that should be taken away from me just because a few people out there think it’s morally wrong. That’s a form of castration. That’s like saying people can’t be gay because they find members of the same sex a turn on. Isn’t it my right to be able to carry out my fantasy with someone whose more than happy to consent? That’s just two people, minding their own business, doing what they enjoy.

So there we go. Do you feel a bit better for your friend now? Do you see that it’s not the sad, desperate, lonely choice people think it is, for either of us?

I always get asked why I left, if I enjoyed it so much, and the simple answer is Things Change. First and foremost, I wanted to get into another career.

But building up to that, I also noticed more and more men comparing what I did and the prices I charged to those of more shady dealings. I grew more upset that they would ask me to lower my prices to match them, when their prices were set by racketeers who wanted them to be cheap so they could be on an assembly line to get more clients in. The reasons I’ve set out above are what make me a luxury, they are what set my prices (as well as most Independent Sex-Workers) at a premium rate. Lower the prices, and you lower the service.

I’d love things to change, for clients to see The Girlfriend Experience is something truely worth paying the money for, not a quick cheap deal from someone who is less-than-enthusiastic. And I’d love it if you out there saw the effort we put in, the pride, the work – because that is what it is. It’s still work. It’s a job. We’re very lucky in that it’s work we enjoy.

So what do you think about your friend? Has he made the right decision? Will he hurt anyone by coming to see someone like me? Or perhaps we’re just two people, doing what we enjoy…

 Miranda Kane blogs at Follow her on Twitter

This post was first published in Cliterati in June 2015 and reprinted in February 2018 in the wake of the death of Miranda’s fellow advocate for the rights of sex workers, Laura Lee.

News: Human Rights Activist and Sex Worker Laura Lee dies

Sex worker and sex worker rights activist Laura Lee starts her challenge at the High Court in Belfast. Left to right are Kate McGrew, coordinator for Sex Workers Alliance of Ireland, Laura Lee and Dearbhla Ryan, Community Worker with Sex Workers Alliance of Ireland pictured outside the court. Picture by Jonathan Porter/PressEye
Sex worker and sex worker rights activist Laura Lee starts her challenge at the High Court in Belfast. Picture by Jonathan Porter/PressEye

Fearless campaigner for the rights of sex workers, Laura Lee died on 7th February aged 39, leaving behind a teenage daughter.

By all accounts Laura was quite a character: warm, witty, intelligent and open-hearted, she was fierce in her defence of human rights for all – regardless of profession.

As an article in The Scotsman read,

“Laura, a law graduate from Dublin, began making a living as a sex worker in the 1990s, spending much of her time in both Edinburgh and Glasgow.

She came to prominence in 2013 after the DUP peer Lord Morrow proposed new legislation which he believed would challenge human trafficking and exploitation.

The most controversial aspect of his bill, now law, was the criminalisation of paying for sex. The concept, which originated in Sweden, aimed to take legal scrutiny off vulnerable women and put it unto sex buyers, thereby undermining demand from men seen to be exploiting them.

However Ms Lee argued passionately that the measure put independent consenting sex workers like her in danger by making potential clients much more secretive and difficult to screen.

Her lawyer Ciaran Moynagh said her legal challenge would continue. “We are deeply saddened by the death of our client Laura Lee,” he told the Belfast Telegraph.

“Laura courageously fronted a campaign and judicial review which sought to defend and protect thousands of sex workers who do not have a voice.

“In the face of much opposition she maintained great dignity.

“Laura Lee will be remembered as one of this country’s most fearless human rights advocates and we are committed to continuing her work.”

Laura’s daughter said on Twitter: “I ask you to continue all of your amazing work in her honour. I’m so proud of all my mum accomplished in her tragically short life.”

Laura’s friend, fellow sex worker activist and comedian Miranda Kane has set up a Just Giving Page for anyone who would like to donate funds to cover Laura’s funeral and lift the financial burden from her daughter’s shoulders.

If you would like any more up-to-date information on the above, then Miranda Kane’s Twitter feed is a great place to start.

Best Mains-Powered Wands

Nothing like a sexy little listicle to get our pulses pounding, so with Valentine’s Day incoming, here’s Cliterati’s round-up of the best mains-powered wands currently on the market. There’s wand for everyone (see what we did there?!).

And before you hit Confirm on the order for your naughty delivery, remember:

The first rule of Wand Club is a good water-based lube, the second is a good antibacterial cleaning spray. The third and most important rule? Before you buy, consider you might need an essential international plug adaptor for your chosen wand.

Now for the fun part –

Eroscillator wand reviewThe Eroscillator 2 Deluxe

If you enjoy love-making as well as a good fuck then this baby has it all. It may be expensive and ugly but it constitutes the investment of a lifetime. Bestowing orgasms like no other again and again and again, it genuinely has no equal.

Buy the Eroscillator for £199 from Lovehoney

Read our review for the original Eroscillator

Doxy Massager Review

Doxy Massager

This exquisite piece of British engineering is the best traditional mains-powered wand out there, no question. Actually, we do have a question – will you choose Doxy’s standard wand or the die-cast version, and in which colour? Outstanding.

Buy Doxy with UK, EU and US plugs from Lovehoney for £89.99

Buy Doxy Die Cast from Lovehoney for £149.99


Bodywand Vibrator

Ongoing favourite that never fails to deliver. So popular, it’s often out of stock – whichever online store you choose. Suggest you also invest in a rubber or vinyl sheet to protect your mattress from any (un)expected squirting.

Buy Bodywand from Simply Pleasure at £57.95

Read the full Bodywand review here


Palm Power by Swan

Lightweight yet powerful, this is a fantastic wand for those of us who like a long play but don’t like our arms getting tired. Extra attachments are available!

Buy Palm Power from Simply Pleasure for £74.95

Read the full Palm Power review here

Review Lovehoney Deluxe Bodywand Magic Vibrator

Lovehoney Deluxe Magic Wand

You will rarely go wrong with a Lovehoney own-brand item, and this wand is a case in point: it’s a solid success. Excellent work, LH HQ!

Buy Lovehoney Deluxe Magic Wand for £49.99

Fancy something a little…different?

Try the Tokidoki x Lovehoney Unicorn Wand if you like it kitsch and kawaii, or the Motorhead Orgasmatron War Pig for the rebellious rock chick in you. Proving that yes, as we said at the top of the page, there really is something for everyone.

Buy Tokidoki x Lovehoney Unicorn Wand for £99

Buy the Motorhead Orgasmatron for £89.99 from Lovehoney


So, did you remember the rules of Wand Club?

Water-based Lube

Antibacterial Toy Cleaner

International plug adaptors


Excellent work, Folks 🙂

Review: Silence Is Golden from Sexy Little Pages


If someone is unable to speak, how do they communicate with their partner? If a sub or Dom can’t hear well in crowds but loves to play at parties, what mechanisms are in place to ensure everyone stays safe?

The kink-inspired stories in Silence is Golden are sexy and bold. You’ll meet strong, diverse characters across the spectrum of sexuality who revel in their desires. From silent Doms and Deaf lovers to submissives who can’t be silenced and those who seek out the quiet. This sizzling collection brings together the finest erotic stories from Annabeth Leong, Dale Cameron Lowry, Sienna Saint-Cyr, Leandra Vane, Anna Sky and Janine Ashbless.

Above is the blurb for Silence Is Golden, the latest anthology from publisher Sexy Little Pages, edited by Anna Sky, and I thought it described the book so accurately it deserved reproducing.

This is a truly lovely, steaming hot, extremely kinky collection with a twist: many of the characters have disabilities, health conditions or other restrictions, but these aren’t presented as problems – in fact in many cases those conditions are part of what makes the scenarios described so sexy. A date with a Deaf man and his interpreter turns into a threesome; a submissive recovering from breast cancer surgery breaks through her insecurity about her body when her master shows her off at a party; a woman in drag seduces her best friend but has to remain silent throughout as she knows her feminine voice will break the spell.

These stories present a diverse range of sexual expression that shows that everyone has their own unique and glorious way of enjoying sex, whatever their body shape or level of physical ability. Difference is celebrated – and shown as seriously hot – here; this breaks through the media stigma attached to anyone who doesn’t fit a ‘sexy’, able-bodied stereotype openly enjoying or talking about sex. As a disabled person it’s a breath of fresh air to me to read stories like this and know there are lots of people out there with their own disabilities, health conditions and other differences who are just as filthy as I am. 😉

But you don’t need to read this anthology because of any of that. You can read it purely because it’s extremely well written, intelligent smut that will enhance any wank session and possibly give you some new ideas for your own sex life.

You can read an extract from Silence Is Golden here.

You can find out more about the book and buy it here.

Toy Review: Erotic Dice by Pipedream

1198912-300x300…And now for something completely different! Yes, we’re talking about the glow-in-the-dark Erotic Dice by industry stalwarts Pipedream, which may hit high in the novelty states but are no less valid an item worthy of review.

In fact, these dice are surprisingly compelling: one die shows the body parts ‘Lips, Boobs, Nipples, Body, Toes’ and a mysterious ‘?’, whilst the other the following six actions ‘Tease, Lick, Massage, Kiss, Touch’ and ‘Blow’. We can all imagine what ensues, but of course how ‘Tease ?’ or ‘Massage Toes’ are interpreted is entirely up to the individual. This does mean that you may get repeated rolls of frustrating combinations like ‘Massage Lips’, but even this helps increase your inventiveness, inspiring the player to perform actions which may never have occurred to them before.

Also, the Erotic Dice helps make space for the more sensual, touching and kissing starter acts between partners, rather than aiming straight for the stereotypical ‘main course’. The exclusion of any instruction specifically genitally-based makes the dice ideal for enabling foreplay between shy people, those newly in a relationship who might otherwise be going straight for it hammer and tongs, and for long-term couples stuck in a sexual routine or rut. Add in the dice’s potential to break the ice at swinging parties, and you soon realise these Erotic Dice would suit pretty much anyone with a pulse.

The glow-in-the-dark aspect of the dice offers a bit of extra fun: whether enjoyed under the covers or in a darkened room they’re sure to prove illuminating! As with all glow-in-the-dark products you need to remember to ‘charge’ them up on the window sill or under a light before use, the longer the better, as the brighter they become the easier the instructions are to read.

This brings us onto aspects of the Erotic Dice that could be improved: for example, the packaging may be tasteful in appearance, but that’s fairly pointless if the lettering on the dice inside arrives worn-off in places, making it hard to read. Then, there is the use of the word ‘Boobs’ rather than a gender-neutral term like ‘Chest’, which would have been a better choice of word. However, at the price Pipedream is pushing the dice these issues aren’t deal breakers – especially since they’ve thoughtfully manufactured a version for Spanish-speakers, too.

Pipedream make additional similar products, Paradice and Oral Sex Dice, which when thrown together with Erotic Dice make for the ultimate six-dice session of flirtatious, random naughtiness; unpredictable sex with a sense of humour? What’s not to like?

With the tagline Roll the Dice and Get Lucky, this is one game where everyone’s a winner. Congratulations Pipedream, you’ve hit the jackpot!

Pipedream’s Erotic Dice are available from Lovehoney for £4.99

Pipedream’s Oral Sex Dice are available from Lovehoney for £4.99


Book Extract: Standing Tall by Sienna St Cyr, from Silence Is Golden (a Sexy Little Pages anthology)


I’m a huge fan of erotica publisher Sexy Little Pages, and their latest anthology, Silence Is Golden, is notable not just because it’s hot and kinky as hell. It’s also very special because many of the characters have disabilities or health conditions, but these things aren’t presented as problems – in fact they’re often integral to the pussy-melting sexiness of the scenarios presented. A full review of the anthology is here; in the meantime read on for a cheeky extract…

From Standing Tall by Sienna St Cyr

I spent a long time on my hair and makeup. I hoped that if I decorated myself, fewer people would notice my missing breast. My special bra helped, because it had a fake breast inside it. Aside from the few close friends I’d shared with, no one knew about my surgery or cancer. They were used to my short hair and didn’t suspect a thing when I’d shaved it.

Now that it was long enough to be a stylish pixie cut, I’d used deep blueberry blue dye on it. Not even the cute cut or the lovely color made me feel better, though. Added to my concern was the fact that I’d not attended any parties with Master since I’d gotten sick. What if people thought me a snob?

So much to stress about… My only hope was that Master would be merciful as he did what he was planning to do. Facing everyone knowing I’d kept so much from them wasn’t going to be easy either. My breast was only half the problem.

I traced my eyelids with the deepest black liner and put on several layers of mascara. Smoky eyes would distract people nicely too. Or so I hoped.

By the time my doorbell rang, I’d completed my look and was ready physically. I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready emotionally. It took several deep breaths for me to get to the door. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to leap from my chest. I fought the salty liquid threatening to escape again, as I didn’t want to smear my fresh makeup.

I opened the door and the moment I saw Master, I lowered all the way to the ground. I felt his dominance over me and it made me instantly wet for him. Humbled in his presence.

“Good, girl,” he said. “Now stand up.”

I obeyed, and greeted him with a gentle kiss.

“You look gorgeous.” He smiled. Then pushed me further inside the entryway and into the wall once again. He shut the door behind him.

“Thank you, Master.”

He pulled something from his back pocket. I saw it right away. It was a ball gag. Then he pulled out an eye mask. He slipped the mask on first.

So much for my smoky eyes.

“Open your mouth.”

I obeyed again, but with hesitance. Since finding my voice, I hated gags. Hated not being able to speak… Still, I trusted Master. I didn’t fight him as he slipped the gag into place. He pulled me forward until he could reach behind me and fasten it.

“Tonight, you won’t be able to see, speak, or even taste anything but the gag in your mouth. You will only be able to smell, hear, and feel. You will be silenced until you can speak kindly about yourself. You will be blinded until you can see yourself clearly.” He paused and breathed out loudly before continuing. “This will change you.”

I began crying again. I wanted to run, to scream my safe word now. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to myself or to Master. I needed to try.

Master slipped a bracelet on me. He shook my hand several times and tiny bells sang a high-pitched song.

“You will shake your wrist twice if you need to speak and ask me to adjust something. You will shake your wrist four times if you hit your stop point. Four shakes equals red. Shake your wrist now and show me what ‘I need to talk’ is.”

I shook it twice.

“Good, girl. Now show me stop.”

I shook it four times.

“Good, girl.” He kissed my forehead. “Take hold of my arm, girl.”

I did as he instructed.

Master led me out of the door and to the car. I heard him open the door and then he helped me inside and buckled me. Then I heard his door open and shut.

He’d done this many times before and I was thankful I lived in a private area of town. Otherwise, the neighbors might think I was being abducted. The notion made me giggle, but only on the inside.

Master drove for a while, chatting to me about his day the entire time. He’d gotten loads of work done. Made several phone calls to new potential girls. He even shared about how he dropped a girl into subspace and had her masturbate over speakerphone. Normally that’d have me wet and squirming, but since the surgery, anything that involved others or public display hadn’t done it for me. It only made me feel insecure. Something I’d shared with Master, but he wasn’t the sort to give in to insecurity. A fact I appreciated and hated at the same time.

At least my tears had stopped.

I began zoning out the longer we drove, which made me focus on the drool escaping the corners of my mouth. It was humiliating, and I hadn’t even gone inside yet.

When we arrived, Master helped me out of the car and escorted me to the door. From the sound of it, this party was taking place at the club. I could only tell by the whacks and moans bouncing off the walls. It was a familiar echo.

The smell of bergamot also caught my attention. The hosts used the essential oil for one of their scenes. It tended to linger. Knowing where I was felt both like a comfort and horror show. People I’d avoided would be here.

Master walked me around and every time he began talking to someone, I curled inward and leaned into him to hide my breast. Master moved to my left side without a word.

I knew it was so I couldn’t hide my missing boob.

I whimpered and forced myself to suppress more tears.

“It’s okay, girl,” he whispered into my ear. “You. Are. Beautiful.” He kissed my forehead, then greeted more people.

You can buy Silence Is Golden here.

Toy Review: Door Jam Sex Sling by Sportsheets

948332-300x300Having experienced ceiling-suspended sex swings in various private dungeons (all in the name of research work, of course!) and being low on space and even lower on DIY skills, Sportsheets’ Door Jam Sex Sling seemed the perfect alternative to the professional models available on the market.

Arriving in branded black packaging the size of your average cushion, at first glance Sportsheets’ Sling appeared unlikely to be strong enough to support itself, let alone the 147kg or 325lb/ 23st 2lb it stated blithely on the box. A closer look led to straps similar to seatbelt material, a padded seat and steel bars to throw over the door. Things were looking up!

First we selected the correct door: it had to be solid as the Sling could easily damage cheap modern hollow doors, and the Sling had to be set up so that any weight used against it would only serve to close it further (hence Door Jam). Word to the wise: this may mean you won’t be able to use the Sling in your bedroom – we couldn’t. Then, there was the initial fiddling around with the height of the foot straps, making sure they were level, that the seat wasn’t too high for us to hoist ourselves into, and spreading the arm straps widely. And yes, we advise doing all of the above way before the actual ‘event’ so as not to kill the mood.

Thankfully, once in position the Sling was remarkably simple to use: designed to make standing sex a breeze and enabling deep penetration and easy access to the female G-spot, it takes the athleticism out of one of the most Olympic of positions – for both sides. Once you’re up in the Sling the foot stirrups ensure it’s perfectly comfortable to play hands-free, but of course you may prefer the power-play of being handcuffed to the straps…

Since you’re literally spread wide open it also allows oral to be celebrated, and if you’re feeling inventive it’s even possible to sit on the Sling with your face to the door for anal exploration (although you may like to use knee-pads to protect yourself – not so sexy!).

If you use an accessible loft hatch instead of a door, you can also increase the list of sexual positions exponentially by adding swinging movement into the mix. This also eliminates the potential for a bruised back (yes, you may like to prop a pillow behind you when using the Sling against the door) and cuts out the banging noises that result from er, banging against a door.

Great for partners of different heights, anyone who likes to travel and fancies a bit of off-the-wall hotel fun, there’s something for nearly everyone in Sportsheets’ Sling. I say ‘nearly’ because if you’re petite you may find the seat uncomfortable unless you perch at the edge, and if you’re toward the other end of the scale – ie: nicely padded or have wide hips – you may struggle to hoist yourself up without a step, or you may find the straps too narrow for you. Which is a shame as weight-wise the Sling should otherwise be suitable.

Either way, the textured straps may be strong but they could be improved by being covered in something softer: unfortunately they can be uncomfortable against the skin, leaving marks. So it’s advisable to wear stockings and perhaps even a silky top to stop your back from getting cold against the door (it could be worse!).

So, if you fit into the mid-weight/ size bracket and have access to decent doors(!), Sportsheets’ Sling is fantastic value for an unusual item that can put a whole new spin on your sex life. For stamina-saving fun, look no further than the Door Jam Sex Sling and off you swing!

The Door Jam Sex Sling by Sportsheets is available from Lovehoney for £44.99

Book Extract: The Field Guide to F***ing

While popular opinion tends to assume that congress has evolved, and modern sexual practices are more sophisticated than those practised in the past, in reality, texts as ancient as the Kama Sutra outlined numerous types of caress which may still be considered as extreme, such as scratching, slapping and .hair pulling. While modern depictions of these acts in adult videos often focus on threatening and degrading behaviour, the skilled lover can utilise all of these forms of touch in a way that enhances pleasure without objectifying a partner in a negative way.

Scratching and Pinching

The Kama Sutra categorises the art of scratching with great levels of detail, such as marking the body with half moons, a circle or a ‘tiger’s claw’, and utilising the nails to demonstrate love, passion or leave a lover with a reminder of oneself during a period of separation. It also recommends suitable times to engage in scratching: on the first visit, when setting out on a journey, on return from the journey, when an angry lover is reconciled and when a woman is intoxicated.

This information may seem shocking to the contemporary scholar and indeed, it is most definitely inadvisable to use a state of intoxication as an excuse to enter into any sexual encounter. Similarly, scratching on initial encounter may be considered to be more than a little forward. However, once a relationship has been established, there is certainly truth in the concept that marking a lover in such an intimate way may help trigger positive memories during a period of absence.

While the Kama Sutra recommends marking a partner in public places such as the decolletage, modern culture tends to frown upon such sexual markings, identifying public scratches (and indeed, love bites) as being an indicator of immaturity or low morals. Instead, scratches should be employed in more private places such as the inner thighs or buttocks, ensuring the only person who knows the markings are there is the person who has been intimately marked. The genitals should not be scratched as this may lead to infection.

Pinching is another form of touch that can combine pain and pleasure. However, it should be used in moderation, and focussed on fleshy areas such as the buttocks or breasts unless more thorough pinching is specifically requested by a mate. In extreme cases, you may wish to employ clothes pegs or nipple clamps for pinching, should this be to a partner’s taste.


While slapping a partner without consent is never acceptable, incorporating loving slaps into sex play can increase passion. It suggests an animal nature which can be appealing on a primal level. Play fights can form an entertaining method of foreplay, as long as both parties are fully consensual and no actual harm is administered.

Spanking, in particular, is a popular fetish and has solid scientific benefits. When the body is slapped, it produces naturally pain-killing endorphins that can provide a natural high. This is most effective if slaps start gently and are gradually increased in intensity once the body’s endorphins start to flow through the body. For safety, spanking should be limited to the buttocks and thighs, and under no circumstance should you strike a lover’s lower back as you may inadvertently hit the kidneys which can cause serious harm.

Should spanking be deemed too extreme, you may wish to proceed at a milder level, with a gentle slap to the buttocks as a teasing gesture (or during coitus, once you have progressed to that level).

Conversely, should you wish to entertain more niche practices, slapping the face can be arousing to a submissive partner, and used as part of a sub/Dom fantasy, though again, only with prior consent and mutual desire. Care should be taken to ensure that you don’t inadvertently hit the ear, as this may cause the eardrum to pop, and rings should be removed prior to slapping to avoid accidental nicks and bruises.

Hair Pulling

While hair pulling may be deemed as too extreme for many people, there is no reason for it to be as crass or violent as it is presented in contemporary adult films. Washing a partner’s hair can be enhanced by gently tugging on the hair while lathering it, as this helps relax the muscles of the scalp. Gripping a partner’s hair during fellatio or cunnilingus can help indicate your desires, and tugging the head back by the hair during a passionate kiss can also demonstrate arousal.

At a milder level, stroking the hairs on the back of the neck, before gently pulling them to tilt a lover’s head backwards and initiate a kiss combines both passion and sensuality in equal measure. And should you wish to explore a more animal experience together, pulling the hair back during doggie style sex may appeal.

Taken from Field Guide to Fucking, Quayside, £10.49. Download another free excerpt here

Silver fox versus young buck

This post is from a couple of years ago, but the question never gets old – would you prefer an older or younger lover?

‘Age before beauty’, ‘youth is wasted on the young’, ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks’, ‘youth’s a stuff will not endure’… etc. Is there no end to the number of things people have to say about youth and age.

Following last week’s musings and in response to one of my readers (hi there, ‘Lou’), I am looking at whether it’s better to wind up with an older or younger lover.

The only problem here is that ‘older’ or ‘younger’ is a rather moveable feast as I am becoming rather older myself. In my mid-twenties I had a drunken interlude with a man of 45 which at the time felt like being with a much older man. Whereas now, I would think 45 was not that old, really. I also remember at a similar age (I must have been hot stuff at this point in my life – pity I squandered it) rejecting the advances of an 18-year-old, telling him he was just too young. I would be lucky at my current age for someone of 30 to approach me and besides, I am just not attractive /youthful enough to be a MILF.

So, all I can do is take a not-too-serious look at older and younger men, drawn from my experiences and if I over-generalise, tough – it saves me sending out a questionnaire.


Younger guys obviously have the advantage of bouncy, springy bodies, faster metabolisms and natural muscle tone. But occasionally their hormones are all over the place which means they can still get the odd zit. They probably keep up with the latest fashions, but their lack of financial planning often means they don’t have enough to buy decent undies – I remember an ex who had tatty old pants which were just gusset hanging off an elastic waistband.

Older guys usually know what suits them, so are less likely to commit clothing crimes, unless they are trying too hard to look hip and ‘down with the kids’ by wearing jeans halfway down their posteriors. A few bits of grey hair can also give a man an edge of distinction. Laughter lines also look good on men, but sadly make women look rather tired.

Conclusion: Close draw – I don’t dress for fashion, just choose the bits I like, so would feel self-conscious around an ultra-trendy young guy. But I would enjoy his firm butt.

Idea of a good time                                                                                                          

I have never been drawn to any man for his wallet so will take older guy’s spending power out of the equation, even if it does mean a night away in a posh hotel.

Young guy could probably take me to a gig of a band I have never heard of or out to a night club where I would not be able to hear a word he said. He would also talk to me in ‘youff’ vernacular which I wouldn’t understand.

Older guy could regale me with anecdotes about his adventures and references to TV shows which were before my time. I wouldn’t object to the occasional trip to the garden centre or tour of a stately home, but if this were every week, I would vault over the nearest fence and make my escape.

Conclusion: Even Stevens.

Sex skills                                                                                                                     

The young guy would obviously have fantastic stamina and be able to go numerous rounds, if he could re-assemble his soldiers quickly after each battle. Or he may explode and shoot his load within 30 seconds of entry, if it all gets a bit too much for him. The other down side could be his fumbling attempts at foreplay. My experiences suggest he would make a rough attempt at locating my ‘bean’, abandon it after a few seconds then push my head onto his member, swiftly shove himself inside me and go at it like a pneumatic drill until he has satisfied himself. I did warn you there would be generalisations here!

Older guy on the other hand may have problems mobilising his army who are liable to sit around smoking or drinking tea. However, assuming this isn’t a problem and that I have the fortune to be with an experienced older guy (as, dear reader, age doesn’t necessarily mean experience), he will have an impressive foreplay repertoire. The older guys I have encountered also tend to be rather less selfish about ensuring we both enjoy our roll in the hay.

Conclusion: Older guy by a silver whisker, but there are exceptions to every rule and I recall an amazing session with an athletic youth who had a natural aptitude for good, unselfish bonking. I also know he married a woman eight years his senior (lucky bitch).

So, there it is, a non-scientific comparison with no overall conclusion. Age is just a number and if you have the thing/mojo/chemistry/je ne sais quoi it doesn’t matter if you’re 22 or 62 – I won’t discriminate.


Catch the blog –

NEW RELEASE: Old School Discipline by Misha Horne

Misha Horne is one of my favourite authors and if, like me, you have a penchant for a hot guy getting his arse spanked by another hot guy then she is the author for you. Old School Discipline is currently available for 99p / 99c which is a ridiculously small amount to pay for 100,000 words of smouldering hotness.

If you like this book then check out her ever increasing back catalogue. There are some absolute gems in there, including the Benched and Smart Boy series.

Old School Discipline Cover 2


I never planned on continuing my pointless education. But then I got arrested. Again. Hey, if those laptops weren’t meant to be stolen, they should have been locked up better.

Somehow, my latest stunt and lousy attitude landed me in Redwood Academy. An exclusive university where they’re supposed to turn screw ups like me into upstanding citizens. Or some crap like that. But, okay, fine. Some lame private college still sounded better than jail. It’s not like I’m footing the bill.

So, what’s the problem?

Well, let me name a few. The dean’s got it out for me, because I might have broken a fairly big rule on day one. Gotta make an impression, right? The troublemaking twink across the hall is obsessed with me, and his overprotective boyfriend doesn’t like that very much. What can I say? It’s hard looking this damn good.

And then, there’s my roommate.

Bax is a complete psychopath. An obnoxious, dominating bastard, with a vicious sneer and massive biceps, and a past no one will talk about. I hate him like hell. Except when I don’t. When he uses those strong hands to punish me in ways I’ve never dreamed of, hate is the last thing on my mind.

Oh, did I forget to mention the spanking? See, Redwood’s all about the old school discipline. And, apparently, so am I. Because getting bent over and spanked by my roommate is pushing buttons I never knew I had.

Any normal person would be planning a jailbreak, I guess. Believe me, I’m tempted. But I’m starting to think I might actually belong here. Even worse, that I might want to belong. To Bax. And that’s definitely a problem.

Old School Discipline is a 100,000 word enemies to lovers novel, with an HFN/HEA ending and lots of spanking. This book features an angry, steamy male/male relationship between roommates who can’t stand each other and absolutely refuse to believe they could be perfect for each other. No matter how much they like fooling around.

Currently available free on KU
Buy it and enjoy!

Toy Review: Jack Socket stroker by Electrastim

Jack Socket Electrastim ReviewIt’s no secret that we’re big fans of UK electro-stimulation manufacturers Cyrex, and it seems everyone else is finally catching up. At every erotic show, be it for trade or for the general public, Cyrex’s Electrastim stand is swamped by those intrigued by the concept of e-stim sex.

Cyrex are succeeding thanks to canny reframing of a previously niche area, speeding ahead of their competitors thanks to the plush presentation of their products. Where once electro-stimulation was socially relegated to BDSM dungeons, Electrastim’s glossy packaging and newer, softer silicone range has seen it reach surprising levels of sexual acceptability.

Their new Jack Socket toy is a case in point: combining the soft welcome of a silicone sleeve with the e-stim experience, it’s a squeezable masturbator which looks no more intimidating than your average ‘realistic’ stroker. It’s also a very pleasing design, with capped external holes to supply the electro-conductive gel to the inner area, and even cable-ties for the sex-geek in you.

But of course it’s the e-stim angle that makes the Jack Socket a total game-changer. Once copious amounts of conductive gel are applied in the correct channels and water-based lube is added into the canal (with more gel if needed!), pop your cock in and you’re ready to spark up your bi-polar Electrastim, TENS machine or other e-stim powerbox (in a delightful display of comradeship, adaptors for other bi-polar brands are available from Electrastim).

“But why would I want to electrocute my cock?” was the baffled response to the Jack Socket from a friend – and she was female! The answer of course lies in the pulsing intensity of your chosen e-stim settings (for which the built-in patterns of Electrastim’s own handsets come highly recommended), and the dichotomy between pleasure and pain (your choice, you can even embrace both at once if you’re so inclined). Throw in the squeezable stroker effect and you’ll be orgasming on the Starlight Express to Shakeyville before you can cry out, “Electrastim!”

There are a few drawbacks to the Jack Socket. Firstly, although it’s so hyper-effective that you could come in seconds, it does take a bit of setting-up, so it’s best for a luxuriously long masturbatory session rather than quick wank – especially as you begin to discover your boundaries. Secondly, as the experience can quickly change from sexy to uncomfortable if the Jack Socket dries after a few strokes, you’ll need a liberal amount of lube and conductive gel at hand, which means that afterwards you may need to shower off any residual gel before you continue with your day.

Thirdly, the inner sleeve of the Jack Socket is made of TEP, which is porous and requires a good clean after use – as well as the occasional dusting of cornstarch to keep it in tip-top condition. Eventually it will need replacing, and the ever-excellent Electrastim supplies spares. Finally, being open-ended the Jack Socket is great for guys with longer cocks, although those with a generous girth might struggle: Mr More is unusually well-endowed all-round, and as with every Fleshlight-style cock-in-a-can there was no chance he could squeeze himself into the Jack Socket, either hard or soft (another experienced friend became the lucky reviewer).

However, there’s no denying Electrastim have taken the popular (yet often disappointing) stroker design to a whole new, truly groundbreaking level. And softening intimidating stainless steel by adding approachable silicone was a dream move: could Cyrex be the company to bring e-stim into the mainstream? As Austen observed, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a lusful man in possession of a penis, must be in want of a Jack Socket.” In other words: if the Jack fits, wear it.

The Jack Socket is available from Lovehoney for £78.99

eBook Review: Sexy Challenges – 33 Adventures by Drs. Rob & Janelle Alex

Sexy Challenges cover

This is your not typical sex and relationships manual, and those expecting such might be a bit shocked when Rob and Janelle Alex – presenters of the popular Mission Date Night podcast – start suggesting you conceive magickal children, experience past lives through your orgasm and supercharge your money with the power of sex.

People familiar with sexual practices such as Western Tantra and BDSM, and those who practice paganism or magick, shouldn’t find it so weird, however. Although it might seem a little too pick ‘n’ mix to them.

Any couple that genuinely attempts a few of these challenges – as long as they can bring a healthy sense of humour and some open-mindedness to the table, which is vital for any successful partnership anyway – should find their relationship and sex life strengthened and have a lot of fun into the bargain (at the very least). And there’s plenty in there that isn’t over in the ‘woo corner’: A very sweet challenge called the ‘Love Retrieval Machine’ is aimed at couples struggling to hang onto their connection; a hilarious and inventive ‘carnival challenge’ will have you attempting to win a giant stuffed animal (to be used for sex positions later) by aiming rings at your partner’s bumpy bits; and for guys who wouldn’t mind an excuse for some crossdressing, there’s guyliner and male lingerie challenges to be had if you want them.

The challenges all come from Rob and Janelle’s own experiences and the more metaphysical ones are presented from the point of view of ‘we know this is weird – but honestly, it works!’. If you have a sense that there’s more to sex than you were taught in sex ed; if you’d like to see if shagging can *really* blow your mind; or if you’re already interested in working with sexual energy and want some interesting variations and pointers, give this book a try.

Sexy Challenges: 33 Adventures – Create Powerful Energy With Passion, Purpose and Love by Drs. Rob & Janelle Alex is available on iTunes and Amazon.


Toy Review: Ass-Gasm by Pipedream

Ass-Gasm by Pipedream butt plug review  cock ringWith a name like Ass-Gasm there was no escaping the inevitability that this toy would end up in our collection. Part of Pipedream’s extensive stable of erotic enablers, the Ass-Gasm has proved a growing success for men of every sexual persuasion since its launch, unsurprising since it includes a prostate and perineum massager, as well as a cock ring. After all, it’s most men’s perfect masturbation partner, all wrapped up in just one product!

Like an everlasting loop of infinite pleasure the Ass-Gasm is as as visually appealing as it is aurally, with a pleasing line to its design tracing from the end of the bigger prostate massager, down across the perineum strap, circling around the cock ring and back up to its bulbous base. It even feels great in your palm: made of silky silicone it’s malleable yet solid, light enough in the hand but weighty where it counts.

Every Ass-Gasm purchase includes a sachet of lube and two tubes of desensitising Anal Eaze cream, as well as two finger sleeves to help open up the anus prior to insertion. However, before you introduce the plug you may find it easier to put on the cock ring. Smooth and stretchy, with a liberal dollop of lube it slides on nicely around the base of the penis. You can also pull it further down to rest underneath the balls, depending on your preferred sensation or aim: do you want to last longer or come quicker? With the Ass-Gasm it can be a fine line.

Speaking of fine lines, the unsung hero of the Ass-Gasm is the slim bridge area of the toy that links both ends. Resting against the perineum it applies pressure to the underside and, if the cock ring’s worn under the testicles, splits the ball sack creating a divine sensation in the process. At the opposite end, the butt plug nestles nicely against the P-Spot, unlikely to fall out due to its cleverly moulded head and tapering base, rendering the Ass-Gasm comfortable enough to wear at your desk, should you want to make your working day more interesting.

However, it’s during sex, solo or otherwise, that the Ass-Gasm proves itself to be eye-wateringly orgasmic. As the wearer moves, a pleasingly teasing tug-of-war over the perineum ensues between the cock ring and the butt plug, placing rhythmic pressure onto the P-Spot in the process. The result of this combined stimulation is, of course, explosive.

Extracting yourself from the Ass-Gasm (and the Ass-gasm from yourself) can be tricky – especially if you’re a man who becomes super-sensitive after orgasm and just wants it OUT and OFF like, NOW. The trick is to use lots of silicone-friendly, water-based lube before, during and after use. With all this stickiness it’s a relief that the Ass-gasm is easy to wash, and it even comes with a small bottle of cleaner to sterilize it between sessions.

In future, we’d like to see different sizes of the Ass-Gasm become available for bigger cocks and both greedier and beginner butts. First-time explorers of P-Play find the plug slightly large, while the more experienced may require extra stimulation. Perhaps Pipedream could even incorporate bullet vibrators to buzz inside against the prostate and outside against the perineum?

Fortunately, as long as it suits your anatomy the Ass-Gasm is near perfect in practice: it really is a great all-rounder. Aptly named and beautifully executed, this is one boy toy you guys won’t want to be without.

Ass-gasm by Pipedream is available from Lovehoney for £17.99

Liquid Silk Lube is available from Lovehoney for £9.99

Sex Toy Cleaning Kit available from Lovehoney for £11.00

Book Extract: Dirty Doms


Alexei quirked an eyebrow and shifted a little in his seat, willing his cock not to stiffen. He still had to go to the bar and get both of them a drink, and he wasn’t at all keen on the idea of doing that with an erection. But Zoe’s words, coupled with the look on her face, in her eyes, was driving him to distraction. It was absolutely a case of her mouth physically saying one thing, while her facial expression and body language screamed something else entirely. He just wasn’t sure how she would react if he called her out on it.

As the seconds passed, he watched as Zoe squirmed. That clinched it for him. He’d say what was on the tip of his tongue. If he’d gotten it wrong, then so be it. But at least the wondering, the questioning, the anticipation, wouldn’t be able to torment him any longer.

With a quick glance around to make sure no one was within earshot, he leaned across the table, and, in a low voice, said, “I don’t think you want me to be good at all, Zoe. Not really. I think, if we’re being completely honest here—and one thing I always aim to be is completely honest—you want me to be the exact opposite of good. You want me to be bad. Or,” he paused for both effect and to pluck up the courage he needed to allow the words past his lips, “more accurately, I think you’ll be the one to misbehave. Purely so I can punish you. Have you over my knee and spank that luscious arse of yours. And that’s just for starters…”

He tailed off and leaned back in his chair, carefully observing Zoe’s reaction to his suggestion.

She remained still and silent for several seconds, seeming to let what he’d just said sink in, and to process it.

Alexei’s heart pounded, but he was careful not to let his nerves show. If he’d gotten the measure of Zoe as he thought he had, then she wanted a confident, experienced Dom. He was both of those things, or at least he would be, given the chance. But right now he couldn’t help but be concerned about losing this gorgeous woman without having had her in the first place.

Finally, after what felt like eons, she responded. With a smile and a slight tremble in her voice, she replied, “Well, it seems complete honesty is the way to go. So,” she picked up her bag and stood from the table, “my place or yours?”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and walked out of the pub. To her credit, she didn’t look back, either.

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Book Extract: Sweet Spot by Lucy Felthouse


Nadia Gorlando and I had just gotten off the exercise bikes in the gym when one of the academy’s coaches, Peter Ross, headed over to us, all smiles.

“Hey, Nadia,” he said, his all-American grin widening and his blond hair flopping down over his forehead, “I need a huge favor.”

I flicked my gaze to Nadia. She raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows and waited for him to continue. He did.

“I totally lost track of time just now and I have an appointment with Travis Connolly. Would you mind wiping down my machine for me? Or maybe stick a note on it saying it’s out of order? I don’t want to leave it all sweaty for someone else. You’ll be doing me a real solid. I’ll owe you.”

My jaw almost hit the floor.

Now Nadia rolled her eyes, looked over at the offending machine, then back at Peter. “Sure, I understand,” she said, as cool as ice. “The world’s number one can’t wait. Go right ahead—I’ll fix it for you.”

He babbled a load of thanks, then jogged out of the gym.

I gaped at her. “You’re not going to do it, are you?”

Nadia chuckled. “Of course not. He may be coaching Travis Connolly and Rufus Lampani for the US Open, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to clean up his mess.” She pointed with her chin over to the machine Peter had just vacated. “Come on, V, I’ll show you how I’m going to deal with this.”

I followed her, grinning. Her tone told me that it was going to be something fun. Well, for us, anyway. Probably not for Peter.

Sure enough, when she returned from the room off the side of the gym, she had a pad of paper and a pen in her hands. Deliberately shielding the pad from my view, she wrote something down, then pulled off the top sheet. Folding it, she then propped it on the sweat-slicked seat so the writing was on view to anyone who happened past.

When I’d read and absorbed the words, I turned to Nadia, impressed. Her smile lit up her face, showing dimples in each cheek, and her brown eyes gleamed with amusement.

It was in that moment that I decided I had the serious hots for Nadia Gorlando.

The sign read,


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Ode to Valentines Day alone

Here’s one for all those lonely souls out there for whom this Sunday is a day of solitude without any cards or flowers:

So your Valentines Day is poor.
You don’t have a lover no more
Everyone else gets a card
For you it seems very hard

All you hear is giggles and sighs
It may bring a tear to your eyes
They all have love but not you
So what is a sad girl to do?

You are gorgeous, I bet
The man just hasn’t noticed yet.
Most men are rarely aware
Of what’s sitting right there.

So just for today
You should find a way
To treat yourself well
And make your heart swell.

Buy wine, chocs and flowers
Bathe and relax for hours
Switch on your buzzing device
And tingle your bits once or twice!


Catch my blog –

Mr Curtain

He took me by surprise

When I thought I’d grown quite wise

I was shopping in the sales

Sifting through the kids’ clothes rails,

Looking for a boys’ tracksuit

But the lust arrow did shoot


There he was in his green coat.

I can’t say he floated my boat

Wasn’t keen on his long hair,

The way his pants had a tear,

But his elbow brushed my side.

Well, the aisle was not wide.


“Sorry, love,” he said, blushing.

“It’s fine, but please no pushing.”

“Can’t find no boxers, can you?”

“Some over here in light blue.”

“Wow, thanks so much – that’s great.”

His smile ups my heart rate.


I think he’s not such a geek,

I may take a closer peek.

My gaze is a bit too long.

He’ll think I’m acting all wrong.

“Forgive me if I’m too bold,

“But what I sense must be told.


“I think you are rather fit.

“What say you – how about it?”

“My God, you have got some cheek

“Do you think I come each week

“To pick up men while shopping,

“That I’m just some cheap play thing!


“Buy your damn boxers, you fool.

“I’ll sit right there, on that stool,

Near the changing room curtain.”

Why this was I’m not certain

So, he came back, confused

And I grinned, now quite amused.


“No one in that one,” I said.

In the cubicle, I led.

“Come on quick,” I whispered, and

Reached for, grabbed and pulled his hand.

Then he stumbled into me,

Kissed me so passionately.


I tingled from head to toe,

Felt his hardness down below,

Heard people talking nearby.

“Is that the voice of a guy?”

But we could not stop, would not.

Unzipped his jeans, felt his bot.


Stroked his manhood as he sighed.

Wanted the same; he complied.

Placed my foot up on the stool

The excitement made me drool.

He eased it in without fear,

And bonking we were, right here


Quietly went in and out.

No, not a moan, nor a shout.

But the cubicle wall shook.

“Are you alright in there, chuck?”

Asked an attendant outside.

“Fine, this skirt waistband’s a bit wide.”


“Want me to fetch another?”

“No, dear, it’s for my mother.”

Then she went away, confused.

We sniggered a bit, amused,

Carried on humping until

He sighed and I felt him spill.


“My God, I so enjoyed this!”

He said and gave me a kiss

“It beats looking at clothes rails.”

I laughed and stroked him with my nails.

“But it’s getting late, must go.

“People to see, things to do.”


I got dressed and snuck out first.

Don’t want them thinking the worst.

Seconds later, out he came.

Never even asked his name.

I’ll call him ‘Mr Curtain’.

Won’t forget him – that’s certain!



Book Extract: City Nights – One Night in Budapest by Lucy Felthouse


Locating the correct pier, Hermione pulled her ticket from her pocket and showed it to the girl welcoming passengers onto the boat. The girl—the badge pinned to her blouse giving her name as Reka—glanced at the ticket, and smiled. “Thank you. Please take a seat inside until the boat arrives. Enjoy your trip.”

With a nod, Hermione gingerly headed along the gangplank and boarded the vessel, wondering what Reka meant. Surely this was the boat? She shrugged, smiling at the other members of staff she passed, and followed the buzz of chatter to find the other passengers. Maybe it had been a misunderstanding, her meaning lost in translation or something.

Heading up a couple of steps to a bar room full of other tourists, she quickly took a seat at an empty table by the window. She’d have a great view of Budapest’s riverside highlights from here—and she was sure they’d look different again once night fell. Already the sky was darkening—it was almost four p.m. on a chilly January day.

She was so intent on admiring the Chain Bridge that she didn’t know there was anyone beside her until someone said, “Excuse me, madam? Would you like to take advantage of our special drinks offer?”

Turning to the source of the voice, her fluttering heart the only indication that she’d been startled, she smiled. “Maybe. What’s the offer?”

Her smile widened as she studied the man who’d spoken. He looked to be around her age—early twenties, and damn cute. Dark, slightly overlong hair curled on his head, deep brown eyes gave him an intensity that increased the flutters in her heart, and the dimpled smile he flashed as he replied lit up his handsome face. “It is happy hour. Two drinks for price of one.” He paused, looked at the empty seat beside her, then glanced over his shoulder as though checking if anyone was coming to join her at the table. “But perhaps you would only like one? Maybe I can see if yours can be half price…”

“It’s okay,” she replied firmly. “I’m going to be on the boat for a while, I’m sure I can manage two drinks. I don’t have to have them at the same time, do I?”

He shook his head. “No. I will be serving on the other boat in a moment, so I will look after you and your drinks to make sure you get special price.”

Immediately following his mention of an additional boat, a loud voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now ready for you to board the tour boat. Please be very careful while stepping from one boat to the other. As soon as you are all seated, we will begin the trip. Thank you.”

It was then Hermione realised that as she’d been gazing out of the window to one side, a smaller boat had pulled up alongside the one she was on. Everyone was getting up and moving to the staircase. “Thank you,” Hermione said, glancing at the man’s name badge. “Emil. I would absolutely like to take you up on your offer.”

He smiled, and she returned the gesture, only allowing the grimace to take over her face once she was out of his view. She was glad of any language barriers at that moment—hopefully it had prevented Emil recognising the blatant double entendre in her words, inadvertent though it had been.

As she emerged into the main space of the tour boat, she worried there wasn’t enough room for her and she might have to share a table with someone else. Not that it would be the end of the world, but over the past couple of days in the Hungarian capital, she’d become accustomed to her own company, even begun enjoying it. And the beautiful city had been more than enough of a distraction, in any case.

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Book Extract: Grand Slam by Lily Harlem & Lucy Felthouse


I turned to the door. I always kept it ajar when expecting a client, to give the impression that I was open to whatever they needed to talk about. It was a subliminal thing.

Travis stood in the frame, his wide shoulders filling the space, the top of his head almost brushing the wood and his jawline holding a heavy sprinkle of black stubble.

Fuck, he should come with a warning. Hazard to the health of every female heart. He looked good enough to eat, or lick all over at the very least. Tasty.

“Knock, knock,” he said, slipping his gaze down my body.

“Come in. Take a seat.” I gestured to the couch and made a point of not letting my attention slide over his body. I didn’t need to look at soft blue jeans worn in all the right places or at his black polo top with a Nike logo just over his right nipple to imagine what was beneath them. I took a deep breath to stop myself doing just that. His physical attributes weren’t my concern, it was his mind I was after.

He shut the door and sat sideways on the low S curve of the black leather recliner, his long legs folding over and his knees coming up high.

“Please,” I said. “Lie back, make yourself comfortable.” I took a seat on a soft chair just to his left and crossed my legs.

Damn, I hadn’t realized how short this tight little red skirt was. Quickly I uncrossed, then started to worry there was a gap between my knees that would flash the top of my stockings or worse, what was between them. Hurriedly I pressed my notebook over my lap, resisted a squirm and forced a gentle smile at Travis.

“You wear glasses,” he said.

“Contacts usually.” I touched the black frames and pressed them up the bridge of my nose a fraction.

“You were in a hurry this morning then?” He frowned, as though irritated by me being in a hurry.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You were in a rush to get to work?”

“Not especially, it’s just the heat and being tired, it’s made my eyes a little sensitive. I thought it best to opt for my glasses when I left home this morning.”

“So you slept at home last night?”

“Pardon?” I creased my brow in confusion.

His fists were clenched and a muscle twitched in his jawline. “You slept at home then and not at…?”

I struggled to keep the surprise out of my expression. Bloody hell, was he getting at what I thought he was? Did he want to know if I’d slept at Peter’s?

His dark eyes were boring into me; they were deep chocolate-brown, almost black. Annoyance swirled in their depths, so did a curious certainty that I’d answer his question. He was definitely a man who was used to getting what he wanted.

Well, I supposed he would again now, because if he didn’t chill out we’d get nowhere and I had things to start work on. Plus I hadn’t slept with Peter. I wasn’t a to-bed-on-the-first-date kind of woman, so what was the harm in being truthful? “Yes, I slept at home last night.” I opened my notepad, clicked the spring on my ball-point pen and tilted my chin. “Alone.” I caught his steady gaze. Yes, I’d told him something he had no right to wonder about. But by telling Travis what he appeared to want to know, he owed me something in the confessing stakes.

He nodded slowly, then lifted his legs and did as I’d asked, lay back on the chair and settled his gaze over the L.A. skyline.

“And what about you?” I asked, watching as he unfurled his fists and rested his hands over his flat belly. “Did you sleep alone?”

He frowned. “You know I did.”

“No I don’t.”

“I was eating alone, Marie. You saw me.”

“Yes. I did. But you could have been heading out to meet someone or catching up with other players. I’m not a mind-reader.”

I waited for him to elaborate on our chance encounter or offer some information on the rest of his evening. He didn’t.

“In these sessions, Travis, it’s important for me to know who else is in your life, who you hang out with, who you share your thoughts and feelings with.”

“You have everything you need to know in my file.”

“Your file is full of facts. I’m more interested in the non-tangible things.”

“Like what?”

“Things like who your special someone is.”

He sucked in a breath, rolled his lips in on themselves and stared out the window.

“Have you left someone you care about back in England?” I asked gently.

“I think this is all very much beyond the realms of what we’re supposed to be doing here.” He’d fisted his fingers again and shifted his right foot irritably, as though kicking something away. I wondered if he was imagining it was my head.

“It’s up to us to decide what we want to do with our time together, Travis. We can talk about your accident or cognitive methods for keeping calm and focused under pressure, or you can unload all the stuff that fills your mind and stops you from being able to concentrate on court. Entirely up to you.”

“Great, in that case we won’t discuss my love life. It really is the last thing that plays on my mind when I’m beating an opponent into submission.”

Okay, now was the time to play my trump card. “Yet you feel it necessary to ask me about my love life.”

“You didn’t have to answer.”

“No, I didn’t, but you wanted to know, and since we’re stuck with each other for three hours a week for the foreseeable future I figured it would make sense for us to know a little about each other’s lives.”

“So now we do. I know you’re dating my coach and he wants to get into your knickers, and you know I sleep alone and have done for a long time now.” He paused. “Too long.”

Great, now we were getting somewhere. “And would you like that to change?”


“Sleeping alone.”

He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. I watched the black strands feather through his fingers and an image of myself doing that to him as he kissed down my sternum, onto my stomach, lower, suddenly stole into my mind.

I tightened my legs together. Felt a pleasurable little rush of heat in my lower abdomen. No. That was a ridiculous thing to daydream about. Travis Connolly was not only way out of my league, he was also a surly grump. Sitting here talking to him was stretching seconds into minutes.

“Are you asking me if I want to get married?” he asked, his gaze slipping to my chest.

Damn it, my nipples were tingling now.

“No, not at all. Simply wondering if you feel your career allows you to have a romantic relationship or if it’s something you’ve sacrificed in the name of tennis.”

“I’ve sacrificed lots of things to be number one seed.”

He twitched his shoulders as if suggesting those things were insignificant to him. The mere fact he made that micro movement told me they weren’t.

“Like what?” I asked.

He finally shifted his attention from my chest and let out a long breath. “I didn’t go to uni like a lot of my friends did so I missed out on the whole student experience. I’ve had to turn down countless invitations to parties, weddings, etcetera over the years because I’ve been playing on the other side of the world. And yes, occasionally I’ve felt that I haven’t been in a situation where I could be with someone I wanted to spend more time with.”

“That must be hard. Especially if those people you wanted to be with were important to you.”

“Yes, it was, but they understood and moved on.”

“They moved on?”

“Yes.” He tightened his lips into a thin line and stared out the window.

“It’s important,” I said, “to have love and support from those you care about.”

He shrugged. “Important but not essential.”

“What do you mean?”

He stared at me again, my face this time. “I don’t need anyone, Marie. I can do this alone. I’m used to relying on me.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “Even if I was in a relationship, that wouldn’t change. I would still be relying on myself, day in day out.”

“Most people believe that having a partner means you don’t feel alone, that you don’t need to be so brutally dependent on yourself and problems encountered through life are halved.”

“I’m not most people.”

Boy, did I agree with that. “In which case, Travis, you’re very lucky to feel that way.” I paused to let my acknowledgement of his statement sink in. “Has it changed though, that sense of absolute self-reliance, since the accident?”

“No, why would it?” He frowned.

“Sometimes it does when you have a near-death experience.”

He laughed. “It was hardly a near-death experience. I think you’re being a bit dramatic for the sake of justifying your job.”

I didn’t need to justify anything but I let him have that one, for now. “You told me all about it in our last session, Travis. It sounded pretty terrifying. If I’d been knocked unconscious, broken my ribs and then been strapped to a board and blue-lighted to hospital I would certainly wonder whether or not I’d survive and if I did how my life might be changed.”

“I did survive, and my life hasn’t changed.” He rolled his eyes, letting me know he thought I was talking rubbish.

“But you’re here, in L.A.”

“Well yes, but only to get back to peak fitness and then I’ll reclaim my titles and it will be as if the accident never happened.”

“I hope that’s exactly what the next few months bring for you.” I smiled to defuse the tension.

“They will.” He folded his arms. “My sponsors are paying good money for that to happen.”

“A place like this doesn’t come cheap.” I paused. “And has the fracture site been giving you any pain while you’ve been at Los Carlos?”

He cocked his eyebrows. “What has that got to do with my mental state and all this psychobabble of yours?”

God, it was like drawing blood from a stone. I was certainly earning my money here. “Pain affects the body, yes, but also the mind. I’m just wondering if you’re still suffering any twinges.”


“And if you were you’d tell your doctor?”


“Good, because all pain is bad for your psychological health as well as your physical.” I crossed my ankles and tapped my heel on the wooden floor.

He looked at my feet. “Do you really think so?”

“Think what?”

“That all pain is bad?”

“Yes, it’s the body’s warning system to let you know something is wrong.”

“Or right,” he said quietly, his lips barely moving, his attention rising from my feet to my face.

“I’m not following you.”

He sat and swung his feet to the floor. Rubbed his hand down his cheek and around his chin,; the stubble making a rasping sound against his palm.

“Travis?” I said, closing the notebook and hoping that would send a signal that whatever he wanted to tell me would be off the record. Was he still suffering when he was training? Had he not healed properly? If so that was something we needed to take very seriously.

He stared at me, almost as if he was angry that I’d made him think of something, then stood, walked to the window and surveyed L.A.

I couldn’t help but ogle his cute behind. I knew what his arse looked like naked but bloody hell, he could fill out a pair of jeans to perfection. His tennis gear looked amazing on him but jeans, especially a pair that suggested he’d spent many an hour lounging in them, were enough to actually make my mouth water.

He placed his hands on his hips, kept his back to me. “Come here, Marie.”

“Why?” I looked at the back of his head, how his dark hair sat like silken fingers on his collar.

“Do as I ask.”

I was about to retort that I’d do no such thing. I was his psychologist and I’d stay in my chair, but something in me wanted to comply with his request. Perhaps it was the way he’d said it, as if I had no choice but to go to him, or maybe it was some kind of magnetism his sexy aura gave off that pulled me in like a fish on a line.

Placing the notebook and pen on the chair, I moved to the window and stood next to him, about a foot away.

“Some people like pain,” he said, still not looking at me.

“Masochists you mean?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Shit, was he trying to tell me that he enjoyed the pain the accident had left him with? If so, we really needed to discuss this. “That’s not the majority of people though.”

“No, but more than you think. And some people like administering pain.” He turned to me, cocked his head slightly and moved into the space I’d left between us.

I looked into his eyes. Swallowed and tasted his cologne as it traveled into my nostrils and then laced my tongue. “Would you consider them to be good people, Travis? These individuals that like to hurt others.”

“I’ve known a few people who like to give and receive higher sensations, and most of them I consider to be good friends as well as good people.”

I hesitated, felt his body heat radiating toward me, wrapping around me as I pondered his words. We were close, very close, and his consuming presence made logical thinking much harder than normal. “I’m not quite sure what you’re telling me.”

“You talk about pain like it’s a bad thing, Marie.”

“It is.”

He smiled but it wasn’t a sweet smile, more like one of a hunter who’d spotted prey.

“Pain is unpleasant for a reason,” I said. “Because it’s bad.”

“I disagree.” He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. It was a challenging, cocky gesture.

A tingle snaked its way up my spine and threatened to wreak havoc in my body by turning into a tremble. But I beat it down. I wouldn’t let a patient get to me this way. I was the one supposed to be holding the reins here.

“Maybe, Marie, you should open your mind to new ideas with a little more grace.”

“I fail to see how I haven’t been graceful in discussing your theory that pain is good.”

“Can we keep it that way?”

“I hope so.”

“In that case,” he flicked his attention from my eyes and looked at my hair, “would you like me to demonstrate?”

Damn, the guy made me feel tiny. Even though I was wearing heels, his broad chest and wide shoulders were looming over me. “Okay.”

He twitched the right side of his mouth into a half-smile. Now he looked like a hunter who’d captured his prey. A trickle of fight or flight seeped into my system. Which would be my best option?

“Now that’s the first rule.” He reached up and undid the clasp holding my hair on the top of my head. It tumbled around my shoulders as the clasp fell to the floor. “Consent.”

“Doesn’t consent require knowing what you’re agreeing to?” Fuck, with him this close and stroking my hair, spreading it out, I’d pretty much agree to anything. Who was I kidding? Fight or flight was not an option, the only thing that shot through my mind was giving myself over to him. Allowing him to do whatever he wanted, control my body, feed it what it needed.

Damn, it had been too long since I’d been with a man. It was making me desperate.

He slotted his other hand over the left side of my head, the sound of him sliding his fingers over the shell of my ear noisy. My breath hitched and I locked my knees to stabilize my stance. I stared up at him, noting the small shafts of black hair sneaking out of his skin on his chin and the way his bottom lip was a little plumper than the top.

“You see, some pain,” he said, gathering my hair up at my crown and tugging to create tension on the roots, “can heighten the awareness of everything else going on in the body.”

He pulled harder, forcing my head to tip back.

I gasped as discomfort shot across my scalp.

He increased the pressure a little more.

I reached out and clutched at his shirt, felt his hard chest beneath. “Travis, I—”

“Shh, I’m just showing you.” He slipped his arm around my waist, dragged me close and yanked my hair, really hard.

“Ow, I—” A barrage of sensations blasted through my system. The feel of him pressing up against me, hot hard male, all wide pecs and solid thighs. The pain from having my hair tugged with force, and the awareness that my belly was shoved right up against his groin. A groin that held a wedge of thick flesh.

“Just feel,” he whispered, hovering his lips over mine. “Endorphins are rushing into your bloodstream, giving you a natural high as pain alerts your nerve endings that something exciting is happening.” He slid his free hand up my back, tracing the outline of my spine through my blouse.

I breathed in the air he was breathing out, warm and sweet. The scream of hurt in my scalp made me want to wriggle but being held so firmly and confidently kept me still. The heat of the discomfort slipped down my nape and neck and over my shoulders, then combined with the lovely sensation of him stroking my back.

“Can you feel it?” he whispered. “Pain mixing with pleasure, the lines between the two blurring.”

I could feel it with every fiber of my being. My skin was alive with awareness, my breasts were heavy and desperate for stimulation, and between my legs I was buzzing for action. Good, hard man action, preferably of the naked, sweaty variety. “Yes,” I gasped.

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Age positive

It is the thing that strikes fear into most people, the thing we like to think will never happen to us.

No, not getting to the supermarket checkout and realising you forgot your purse or leaving the toilet with your skirt tucked into the back of your knickers! I am talking about old age, the thing that teenagers think happens when one hits 30.

If something awful doesn’t happen to us, it’s as inevitable as death and taxes, even if we get a nip and tuck or wear body-shaping undies. And as someone who feels pretty downbeat if she goes without action for a couple of weeks, I dread to reach the point when I’m too saggy/droopy/dry/knackered/haggard/generally clapped-out to get any ever again. I sometimes wonder if I’ve already reached that point…

On the other hand, I don’t want to be some toothless old crone gumming a doddery chap’s chemically induced hard-on. Then having to call home care to help me to my feet when my arthritis-riddled knees lock.

So when do we stop doing it? Not for a while if recent studies are to be believed. Apparently, STDs among over 50s have risen dramatically in recent years.  In a recent survey commissioned by Age UK a quarter of over 65s said their sex life hadn’t changed as they got older. And 8% were keen to pursue a new sexual relationship while 12% said they wanted to try new things with their partners. I also have a friend in her early 70s who still has sex with her partner, thanks to some ‘special cream’ she gets from the doctor to keep her lubricated – the main problem with women after the menopause.

It does worry me that women’s libidos seem to decline as they get older – without that, I am not sure I will still have a pulse, but maybe I need to plan future hobbies like crochet and embroidery. Men seem to keep going, as long as they can still get it up – something now helped along with modern medicine. But sexually active older men have a habit of chasing after much younger women, leaving us old biddies to fend for ourselves, read our knitting patterns or try our luck with a toy boy.

I also wonder what happens if you are living in a residential home and sexually active. Will staff respect your privacy and leave you to it, or will they treat you like a naughty teenager and ‘ground’ you – “No Countdown for a week, Mrs DSM and from now on you and Albert will not be in the same Scrabble team!”

I fear that it’s the latter, as people over 70 seem to be suddenly treated like they cannot think for themselves, even if they are compos mentis e.g. “Shall we get you out of bed now, Mrs Jones and how about we have a cup of tea?” The tone and language is the same I use with my two-year-old.

Maybe bonking Albert two doors down is the ultimate two fingers up to anyone who condescends and patronises like this.

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