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Accomodating the Biker Gang

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Reader Advisory: These stories are for mature audiences only and feature intensely erotic situations, alpha male biker outlaws and BBWs, multiple partners, public sex and humiliation, lactation, the use of potent aphrodisiacs, exhibitionist themes, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Cindy Hancase is all business, all the time, and it’s her willingness to do anything to get ahead that’s helped her build her little clothing line into a full-fledged fashion brand. But she’s taken things just a little too far when she turns to moneylaundering to help her struggling bottom line, a decision that brings her in contact with types of men she might not be ready to handle.

Now when she tells the outlaw MC president she needs to take a break from their agreement, he seems to want to help and offers her a pill that will help her focus and get her books in order. But soon, she finds out that helping her get ahead wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, and the drug he’s given her is going to do just about everything but help her focus on paperwork.

Parts of her body might get enhanced, but her brain certainly won’t be one of them.

Before she knows what’s happening, new feelings have drowned out the little voice that says no and her urges have pushed her into the arms and at the mercy of the gang leader and his biker buddies, who are more than happy to help her fill her sudden cravings …

Excerpt:

What he was telling me seemed to be important, but I kept getting distracted by the man sitting nearest to me on the right side of the table. He had a short beard and a lean, well-muscled body. He had laid his jacket across the back of his chair and was wearing just a thin tank top that rippled with his muscles when he shifted. He was one of the ones with pure lust in his eyes, and those eyes hadn’t left my ass since I walked in the room. He seemed to want to do something and I kind of wanted him to do it, whatever it was. The way he was looking at me sent little shivers right up and down my needy body.

“No, it wasn’t. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you haven’t figured it out yet.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, now staring openly at the man to my right. He looked up and gave me a wink and I giggled a little nervously.

“It’s a drug that makes people look and feel like you’re looking and feeling right now.”

“Horny?” I asked before I could think to stop myself.

He laughed. “Exactly, sweet thing. Exactly. But don’t you worry, we’ve got a good idea what to do about it.”

“My tits are bigger, too, aren’t they? I’m sort of having trouble remembering exactly how big they used to be.”

He stood up and walked around the table. In a moment I was standing paralyzed in front of him. He put out two rough-palmed hands and cupped my breasts, hefting and massaging them gently. I let out a low moan as the pleasure of his touch ran through me.

“I’d say so,” he confirmed. “But don’t you worry. That’s what it’s supposed to do. And we know just what to do about that, too.”

My breath was in my throat as I looked into his face. I had never been this close to him before, or any of the criminals I worked with against my better judgment. The faint aroma of liquor, gasoline, and cigarettes spiced his thick masculine scent.

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s Bimbo Lawyer Series with full consent of the original author.

Find it exclusively on Amazon.

Curves and Sex Pills

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Reader Advisory: These stories are for mature audiences only and feature intensely erotic situations, alpha males and BBWs, multiple partners, public sex and humiliation, hazing, medical examinations, the use of potent aphrodisiacs, exhibitionist themes, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Curves and Sex Pills contains three fun, sexy stories of BBW bimbofication, menage, and public exhibition:

Horny Pill for the Curvy Girl

Sandra Malke has had a tough week rushing the Phi Gamma sorority: following instructions that range from unpleasant to outright humiliating, but she’s made it this far and wouldn’t dream of giving up now. That is, until she hears what her final assignment is going to be. Apparently she’s managed to piss off the chapter president, and in return her final afternoon of rush week is going to be an intense one. But does it have to be with two fraternity brothers she’s never met, and in public? And do the sisters have to give her a pharmaceutical-grade aphrodisiac to be sure she’ll go through with it? It all sounds a bit excessive, but deep down she probably can’t deny she finds the prospect a little thrilling, too.

The Doctor Prefers Curves

Between a tough job and tougher grad school classes, Rachel McAlister is being stretched to the limit. What she really needs is something to help her let go and unwind, and her doctor has just the stress relief medication. Its only drawback is a certain rare side effect in individuals with a lot of latent sexual tension, though Rachel is quick to deny to her handsome young doctor that this could be a concern for her.

But when he issues her the drug and keeps the voluptuous young woman in his exam room for monitoring, the truth is bound to be unleashed before long.

Busty for the Billionaire

Sasha’s four years in college were supposed to prepare her for bigger and better things, but working for a man like Elliot Cheever takes all the sting out of being a secretary. He may already be one of the city’s most powerful men at the young age of 34, but he’s so approachable and friendly with his newest employee that she can’t help but sometimes think about more than a work relationship.

Trying to look good for her boss, she’s bought herself a beauty supplement that promises more than just good skin. But when the supplement turns out to have some “additional properties,” new hormones give Sasha the curves she’s always wanted and kick her fantasy of seduction into sudden overdrive.

Before she’s had time to think, she’s flaunting her new attitude and assets through the office in ways that Mr. Cheever and the other partners accustomed to the firm’s stuffy work environment can’t help but notice … and act on. It’s not long before the fertile but inexperienced young woman is getting all the attention she can handle, and more.

Notice: These titles include themes and passages that have been adapted from the works of Jessica Whitethread with full consent of the original author.

Find it exclusively on Amazon.

Yielding Curves: Pushing Boundaries

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Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, BBWs, bdsm play, discipline, pain play, bondage, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

It’s been three days since Miranda arrived at the master’s house, but when looking back on them she remembers only a whirlwind of new experiences that overwhelm any sense of time. In only that short period it has fulfilled all the lofty hopes that brought her here, but it has awakened new deeper, secret hopes as well. In quiet moments, she even dares to think that it is special to the master, too, even as experienced and worldly as he is. As together they delve ever deeper into the submissive dominant relationship and push at the boundaries of what she thought herself capable of and comfortable with, the promises that they would not become too attached begin to erode. In the heat of the moment – and the moments get very hot indeed – who can say what will be said and what plans may be changed to address these unexpected feelings?

Excerpt:

He had lowered himself so that he was sitting on my thighs, his skin against mine and the thick muscles of this buttocks against my soft flesh. His hand rested on my hip as he continued to hold my face towards his with his other hand. It was a symbolic gesture. I could never have looked away now. He was praising me for things I had never known about myself, but now that he had said them and said that he liked them, I couldn’t bear the thought of being any other way. So I looked at him, submissive and patient for him to do what he clearly wanted to so badly.

He produced a match from his pocket, struck it, and lit the candle before setting it aside on the floor. The clean scent of its smoke infused the air.

“Do you trust me, Victoria?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good,” he said. “That’s good. Because this isn’t something I would do with just anyone.”

“I trust you, Master,” I repeated. But even so, my chest felt tight.

He laid a hand on my on the pale, sensitive skin of my stomach. He could feel my slight trembling. He could see the trepidation that, in spite of my need to please and be brave and be open-minded, I could not shut out entirely.

“If it becomes too much for you, I want you to tell me,” he said. “I want you to say so, alright? I want you to say ‘Awry.'”

“Awry,” I repeated.

“This is a safe room,” he said, “where two people who trust each other can explore things that they would not do with other people.”

I watched him, still at a complete loss for what was about to happen. I pulled lightly at my wrists. The bondage I understood. The bondage I liked. But it also made what was coming all the more terrifying, whatever it was. But I was grateful that he was speaking this way with me. It reminded me why I was not, in my conscious mind, afraid.

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s His to Train: Flirting with Boundaries with full consent of the original author.

Yielding Curves: The First Trilogy

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Reader Advisory: These stories are for mature audiences only and feature intensely erotic situations, BBWs and alpha males, bdsm play, discipline, crops, spanking, humiliation, multiple partners, public sex, submission and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Victoria has always been curious about the kink lifestyle, but her exposure to it with her current partner has been a bit limited. But after an eye opening experience with couple acquaintance within the scene, Victoria and David apply to become members in the highly exclusive Tremboix Society, a BDSM network of the city’s most powerful and influential. Rather than questionnaires or resumes, the Tremboix uses only one metric to assess potential couples: the worthiness of the submissive. So it is that Victoria finds herself standing alone before a gathering of the city’s most powerful and sexually dominant men with only one task: obey.

Yielding Curves: The First Trilogy follows Victoria along the initial steps of her sexual self-discovery, first at the hands of her partner, then on the public stage of the Tremboix Society, and finally into the house of discipline established by one of the society’s most prestigious members who, intrigued by Victoria’s charms, makes a rare offer to train her personally over the course of a week.

Excerpt

All the while, the other hand worked its delicate touch up my thigh, claiming my body as his one inch at a time.

As he continued to speak, his tone became quieter and more seductive, almost hypnotic. “But me, I can tell when a woman is truly, utterly powerless. It doesn’t have anything at all to do with ropes.” The tips of his fingers brushed the lace of my panties. “Do you know what I mean, Victoria?”

“Yes,” I gasped. I felt paralyzed by need, not just his touch but his orchestration. He was playing my body, and every note seemed to match a perfect harmony I had never listened for before. All the while it seemed that the air I breathed was of nothing but his scent, issuing me deeper into his world of physical bliss.

“Yes, sir,” I repeated slightly less breathlessly in an attempt to hide my state from the onlookers. Jack, of course, knew precisely what he was doing to me. There was no concealing this experience from him. I would be safe in his arms, his touch told me. I could let myself go.

The hand between my legs rubbed over my panties and I let out an explosive breath as the friction tugged lightly at my swollen lips and clit.

“I could take anything you possess right now, couldn’t I?” he asked softly. “Anything that is yours is being surrendered up to me. I can feel it in every breath you take.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes.”

His fingers felt at the edge of my panties and then nudged them aside. The thought that I was somewhere where I was uncomfortable with my pussy being exposed seemed to flit back and forth somewhere in the distant recesses of my mind.

“I could manipulate you and use you and you would not even think to object.”

“Yes,” I repeated. Each word he spoke seemed infused with the pleasure his fingers were imparting to me. I held my breath as I felt them spread my lips and run along my sensitive folds. I had not opened my eyes in the past minute. Nothing else existed but the part of me that he was touching.

“When I put my fingers into you, you are going to be mine utterly.”

“Yes,” I agreed before I understood what he was saying. Then when I did, I repeated, “yes.”

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s His to Train: Exclusive Discipline with full consent of the original author.

Yielding Curves: Household Discipline

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Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, BBWs, bdsm play, discipline, public spanking, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Victoria’s first hours in her new master’s house have been intense ones, but she knows they have only scratched the surface. Before she has done little more than catch her breath, it’s time to meet the other submissives in the master’s household and learn just exactly what she has gotten herself into. Far from being allowed to wade in slowly, Victoria’s initiation into this tight little community will mean getting tossed directly into the center of its many different flavors of discipline and power play. By the time her first morning has come to a close, she will have a lot more to think about than why there isn’t a number on the mailbox.

Excerpt:

“Yes, Master,” several of them agreed and the others nodded obediently.

“Her shorter time here makes it all the more important that her experience is a positive one.”

Again they agreed, smiles breaking onto some of their faces. I could feel excitement rising in the room.

There was a slight teasing note in Master’s voice. It was as though he and the women at the table were in on an inside joke, as though they all knew what was coming and Master was being deliberately slow in getting to it: tantalizing them under the guise of introducing me.

Slowly, Master strode to the head of the table, a hand stroking his chin and that infectiously mischievous smile on his lips.

“For those of you who haven’t heard,” he went on, “Victoria and I encountered each other at her audition for the Tremboix Society. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Master,” I agreed.

He nodded, his hands splayed lazily on the wooden table and his eyes closed. “Quite a performance.”

A slight rustling passed through his audience.

When he reopened his eyes, they fell as though by coincidence upon a small spiral-bound notebook lying in the center of the table which I had not noticed.

“And what’s that? The Log?” he said as though surprised.

He reached out one hand and drew it towards him. A collective shiver along the table confirmed that whatever had everyone so on edge had a great deal to do with that unremarkable little book. He licked a finger, drew it open, and flicked through several pages.

“My goodness,” he said. “Look at this. Would you look at this. Four days I’m away and you ladies acquire a rap-sheet like this?” He tutted softly, turning a page back and then forward again. “Now I understand the nervousness. We have some serious accounts that need settling, don’t we?”

The sighs and shivering had stopped. He now commanded the room in utter silence.

“Who was my record keeper this week?” he asked.

“Me, Master,” a blonde woman seated two down from the end answered him. She had long, elegant limbs and a delicate face that was fixed in an expression of nervous expectation: a strange mixture of dread and excitement. Even sitting down she was two inches taller than the women to either side of her, and her pale skin was flushed.

Master shook his head and tutted again. “Naomi, Naomi, Naomi. All this happens when I leave you in charge?”

Naomi seemed to be holding her breath.

Master looked at her paralyzed, blushing form. “That’s ten spanks, isn’t it? For a house poorly run?”

Around the table the women nodded in confirmation.

“Would you come up here, please, where everyone can see you?”

Naomi rose carefully from her chair and made her way around the table. Master took his own chair and turned it around so that the back of it faced the room.

Naomi stopped beside him and stood waiting with nervous hands clasped over her bare stomach.

“Apologize to everybody, please. They are going to be punished because you couldn’t keep them in line. If you had done your job, none of this would be necessary.”

She turned and faced the onlookers. “I’m sorry,” she said in a weak voice. “I should have been better.”

She seemed to include me in her apology. Not yet understanding what that meant, I took it to be flattering. Already I was a part of something.

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s His to Train: First Discipline with full consent of the original author.