Saturday, February 27, 2021

The Punishment Club by D A Maddox...

The Punishment Club
Part Two: Sunday Service
D A Maddox


     At Huntington Regional Detention Center, the time has come for the four freshman pledges of the Punishment Club to complete their sentence. Their final day in the Controlled Judicial Humiliations Program will take them to the outermost limits of their endurance. They will be tested by torment, scourged with shame. For Emma Jo and Buddy, for Peter and Cassidy, only love can temper the agony of their discipline—and only friendship can give them the strength to deliver a little justice of their own.

Be Warned: BDSM, sex toys, spanking, paddling, whipping, public exhibition, f/f sex, forced seduction


“We’re all alone, bucko.” She got off her bike, rested it against the nearest tree, and held out her hand to him.

Buddy dismounted. “We’re going swimming?” he asked, nodding at the gym bag. “Got a guy’s suit in there?”

“Maybe,” she said, taking his hand. “In a little bit. Come on.”

He walked with her. His heart was already racing. He hadn’t actually thought they were here to go swimming—he wasn’t that dim—but if she wanted to play coy, he could play coy, too. For himself, he would have been content just that she was holding his hand and walking with him. He could be happy without a lot of unnecessary talk. But if this was shaping up to be more than that, as he guessed, he was more than ready. And Emma Jo, she was…

He stopped, right where the grass began to recede. Emma Jo turned to him.

“I’m just going to say this,” he said, summoning fortitude, taking breath. “You’re beautiful. And… I—I mean everything about you, Emma Jo. Your eyes, your face … your courage, the way you always tell the truth…”

Her hand left his. She cupped the side of his face. “Thank you, Buddy,” she said, kissing him softly, breathing into his mouth. “So are you. Don’t you know that?”

He kissed her in return, hands gently squeezing her upper arms, which were both soft and strong, just like the rest of her. “I don’t deserve you,” he said. It was a thought that had occurred to him more than once—not something he dwelled on every second of the day, but still, it had occurred to him. “But I want you, Emma Jo. It’s selfish. And it’s too soon, but I think I love you.”

“Buddy,” Emma Jo said slowly, running a hand through his hair, thumbing his ear, stopping at the back of his neck, “you do deserve me. And do you know why?”

He shook his head. He was so happy, but he still wanted to cry. And he honestly didn’t know the answer.

“Because I want you,” she said, her voice steady and determined. “Because you’re beautiful. The way you talk when you have something to actually say. The guts you showed in court when you tried to take the fall for all of us. Your heart. Your sweetness. The way you listen—the deep, still waters behind those dark eyes. I love you, Buddy.”

Her other hand at the front of his pants. 

"And this, too,” she said. “I’ve loved this from the first time I saw it.”

Another kiss, this one initiated by Buddy—long and slow and deep, his hands around her back, her hands at his shoulders and his rear. They drank each other.

“Don’t deny me, Buddy.”

He shook his head. He pulled back, gasping. “Are we going to—?”

“Yes, Buddy. Right now. Are you ready?”

He nodded, panting. “Are you? Are you sure?”

She let go of him, slung the duffel bag to the ground—yanked open the zipper with a haste that betrayed her need. From it, she drew forth a long, wide, soft-as-down white blanket and spread it on the ground where the grass was thinnest.

Then she came for him again, both hands extended. He took them. He smiled at her, unabashed by the tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said.

“Believe it,” she said, her voice husky with longing. Then, before stepping onto the blanket, she said, “Take your shoes off.” She kicked hers to the side without untying them.

Buddy reached down and hauled them off—then tossed them over his shoulders and behind him, not caring where they landed.

“Come here,” she said, curling her pointing finger, drawing him closer. “I’ve got a surprise.”

He stepped onto the blanket. Another one? he thought.

And she delivered—big time—when she reached into her back pocket and retrieved the small square of plastic with the raised ring in the middle. She flashed it to him like a precious gem she’d been eager to show off.

“Where,” he floundered—then started over. “How? Emma Jo? You have to be—”

“Twenty-three,” she agreed, her face unrefined smugness. “Thought I might get lucky asking Cassidy’s former roommate, Toni. No dice. But she did refer me to someone who kept a little hidden contraband.”

“Oh?” Buddy asked, reaching out as though to receive the holy grail.

“Your roommate, Ernie Morse. Also a senior, right?”

Eyes wide, Buddy nodded. And he thought, Still looking out for me like you’ve done since the frat interview.

Buddy knelt, set the condom on the blanket, then rose to his feet again and gave Emma Jo another kiss. “You’re very good at … planning,” he said, worshiping her mouth, her cheek, her forehead.

Emma Jo’s hand worked him over the fabric of his jeans. She shook her head. “I just … don’t want … to get into trouble,” she huffed into him, kissing him back on the neck. “Now hold still. I want to do this. I want to put it on you.”

Buddy straightened—in more ways than one. His cock ached against the inside of his pants. Feel free, he thought. Strip me. Show me no mercy. That’s the only thing I don’t want from you.

Emma Jo seemed to be of similar mind. “Such a good boy,” she said, tapping his nose—then dropping to his waist. Feverishly, she worked at unbuckling his belt, and in three stiff yanks she had it through the loops. Then the button over the zipper. Buddy looked straight ahead, and so he heard rather than saw his zipper come down. But he could not keep himself from watching when she tugged his pants down—leaving him in his underwear, which she could easily have brought down with them.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” he said, though his cock jutted up like a tower and he was flushed in the face, even though Emma Jo’s fingers traced his manhood through his underwear, closer to the skin than they ever had before. He caught himself before allowing the drool to escape his lips, and he said, “Go ahead.”

She brought his boxers down to his ankles, exposing him completely, then ran the side of her finger along his length. Buddy had to redirect his gaze yet again. If he watched her doing that, he’d shoot. But … just feeling her do it was nothing short of incredible. It was so much better than being handled by strangers—or even Matron. This was neither punishment, nor humiliation, nor the clinical protection against blue balls. It was love, the first expression of it. And although he didn’t mind being the only one naked in front of Emma Jo, he longed to return that love.

But first, the tearing of plastic. The placement of the receptacle center of the condom over his tip. Buddy’s hands trembled at his side.

Help me not to lose it, God, he prayed. Not now, not now.

Emma Jo eased the ring of the condom down his shaft, unrolling it onto his hardness neither so slow as to cause him to ejaculate, nor so fast as to seem uncaring. “Jesus,” she breathed, “Buddy, not that it matters, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this big before.”

Buddy dropped to his knees to meet her eye-to-eye. “I’ve never felt this big before,” he said, then reached forward to undress her.

© D A Maddox 2021


D.A. Maddox lives a quiet life in a small apartment in Woodbridge, Virginia with his cat, Shazam. He works very hard at the day job—but he rises each morning before the sun to get his words in. He enjoys drinking coffee from his mug of Shakespearean insults while writing, then revising in the evening while hard rock music from the 80s plays in the background. He has a penchant for naughty tales of excess and extreme BDSM, but at the core of all of his stories there is a heart, characters to root for and to love, and (of course) a happily-ever-after when all is said and done.


Evernight :





Thursday, February 18, 2021

Blood War by Suzy Shearer...

 Blood War


Suzy Shearer

Ella Conlan woke to a strange day. At 55 she thought her life was simply ordinary, even a little dull, except for having RH-null blood. But she hadn't counted on being the center of a Blood War between two warring factions of vampires. Nor had she counted on being the mate of not one but two handsome vampires.

 Jarek Hoggarth and his mate, Leon Fenton, are over the moon when they discover the woman with the rare blood group they've been searching for is their bond mate!

 Now all they have to do is stop her from being killed, rescue her, convince her to donate her blood, and then finally get her to accept that she is destined to spend eternity with the two of them. 

This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout. It will offend some readers.




Schrö wandered in through the door cat-flap and sat at her feet, expecting a treat or at the very least a pat. Still distracted, she ignored him and literally boiled the water three times—all the while thinking of the words she thought she had heard. At last she managed to make the coffee and took it into the studio. Ella struggled to push the strange warning away from her thoughts as she began the mammoth task of filing and cleaning up.

The doorbell rang just after ten, and she handed over the work of many months—entrusting its care to the courier company, with warnings of dire consequences should anything happen. Maybe Ella could finally relax now that the piece was gone.

“I hope tonight I’ll get a proper night’s sleep.”

She spent the rest of the day cleaning up. Schrö spent the day trying to drag things out of the wastepaper basket or pull things off the table until at last he curled up and went to sleep amid a pile of discarded fabrics.

Around five fifty Ella made herself a stir-fry and fed Schrö. Then the two of them settled in the family room, Ella to read and Schrö to spend his time washing.

When the sun had descended to the horizon, Ella’s apprehension took over. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the warning she’d imagined this morning. Her stomach tied itself in knots, and her heart beat just a little faster.

As the sun completed its downward journey, Ella realized she’d read the same paragraph at least a dozen times. She put her book aside, got to her feet, and peeked out the window into the darkness. Every sound seemed magnified. Ella could hear Schrö’s soft snores, a dog down the street barking. Someone revved their car as they went around a corner, tires screeching. A few late birds heading back to their nests let out a squawk or two. Everything appeared perfectly normal.

She sighed, then sat down again. “This is so stupid. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Another few minutes of staring at the wall. Then Schrö sat up, ears going alert, fur beginning to rise. Ella turned her head this way and that, seeing nothing. She thought she heard faint voices coming from the backyard. Her heart beat a crazy tattoo. Ella tip-toed on shaky legs quietly through to the kitchen, peeked out the window, but once more saw nothing unusual.

Creeping back into the family room, she jumped and muffled a scream when someone knocked on the front door. Hand over her heart, she turned on the outside lights and took a deep breath. Only then did she open the door very carefully.

She certainly wasn’t expecting to see the very handsome, tall man. He looked to be around forty, with straight dark hair that fell past his shoulders. A strange, immediate attraction to him threw her off balance.

Despite herself, Ella felt a sudden rush of heat to her face. Her muscles twitchy and quivering, she tried to push aside her fright and said, “Yes?”

He just stared at her as if in total amazement, his brilliant brown eyes wide. She said hello a few more times, but he seemed to be in another world, never taking his gaze from her face.

Ella, meanwhile, had the sudden urge to kiss him. In fact, she’d have liked to do more than just kiss him.

I’d love to see what he has hidden in those pants! Wait. Where the hell had that come from?

Another man stood a few paces behind, scanning her front yard as if on guard. He was just as tall but had dark blond hair resting on his shoulders. He turned his head. On seeing her, his eyes widened.


Be still my heart. Oh my goodness, they are both so delicious. I want them both! She shook her head. What the fuck has gotten into me?

These two men were all she could focus on. She was tongue-tied. Somehow she needed to ignore her raging libido. Ella tried almost uselessly to push her X-rated thoughts away. Stop imagining kissing them while they’re both naked! She brushed her hand across her mouth, hoping she wasn’t drooling. Clearing her throat, she managed to speak again, despite imagines of bare chests, sexy lips, and other manly delights invading her mind.

The man in front of her seemed to come back to his senses.

From that moment on, her world dove headlong into madness. Nothing would ever be the same again.

© Suzy Shearer 2021


Monday, December 14, 2020

Night Song by E D Parr...

 Night Song


E. D. Parr

Words 26,415

MM romance, gay seasonal romance

Released from Evernight Publishing December 8, 2020

 Twenty-five year old Oliver Honeycutt has no idea how handsome he is. He’s creative, brilliant at his job, and underused in the designer fashion store where he works. Behind the scenes, Oliver takes special care with orders for customer, rock star, Zane Highwood. When Zane is to be the main attraction in the store’s Christmas party, fashion show, Oliver hopes Zane will notice him. 

Multi-millionaire, twenty-five year old, Noah Somersby, made his first million before he was twenty-one and now owns a number of casual-chic menswear stores. He’s a designer, gorgeous, and desperate to find a man who will love him for himself and not see dollar signs as they kiss. 

Noah doesn’t often take the train into the city, but one rainy day he does, as he settles into a seat opposite Oliver, the two men exchange interested glances.

In fact, Noah is super attracted to Oliver and Oliver thinks Noah is gorgeous. 

As the store holiday season party approaches, can serendipity bring them together?

 Read a sweet, sexy teaser 

Noah felt Oliver shift in his arms as if to pull away, but then he winced, bent his head, and leaned on Noah.

Concerned, Noah tightened his hold on Oliver. “I’m worried about you.” A tingle of surprise raced along Noah’s body as Oliver raised his face to gaze at him with open desire in his eyes.

“I think I need another kiss … to make it all better.”

Noah smiled before he kissed Oliver, not even feeling a sliver of guilt at kissing a possibly dazed man.

This time Oliver returned the kisses.

Noah drifted in sensation. He lingered on Oliver’s lips, kissing him, then breathing, then kissing him again. His eyes closed and his mouth only a sigh away from Oliver’s, he rested his forehead on Oliver’s and murmured, “I wanted to kiss you the other morning on the train. I’m sorry I hurt you, but not sorry I jumped on you, because I want you … want to know you … get to know you.”

Oliver stirred in his arms again and Noah opened his eyes.

Oliver placed a soft kiss on Noah’s mouth. “I … feel the same about you. I wanted the kiss—craved it, in fact. Noah, I should probably go home and check my bruises, get cleaned up—if the ride is still on offer.”

Noah forced himself from the languor of Oliver’s kiss. “What if you stay here and I’ll race off and bring my car back? I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“I’m really okay, just sort of achy.”

Noah shook his head. “I’d feel better if you rested here.” He left Oliver leaning against the wall and dashed along the street to his store’s delivery space. Happiness shielded him from the cold, foggy night. Lingering delight from Oliver’s kisses protected him from the fine rain that drenched everything. Elated, Noah sped back for Oliver. He turned up the heat in his car, parked in the no-parking zone, and helped Oliver into the passenger seat.

Oliver smiled at him in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Thank you.”

The seasonal fairy lights in the adjacent store window penetrated the fog with hazy dots of color. The drizzle put a ring of sparkles around Christmas lanterns hanging from the decorative rope lights strung across the streets. Noah leaned to Oliver and kissed him gently.

“Where do you live?”

Copyright E. D. Parr 2020, Evernight Publishing


On launch discount at Evernight only

Or find this gay romance on All Amazon sites


Siren Bookstrand,




Find E. D. Parr

Evernight Publishing


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Wednesday, November 18, 2020

The Payment by Allyson Young...

The Payment


Allyson Young

 Reverse harem, captive romance, MFMM, interracial, contemporary 

Eamon, Jonah, and Remy are brothers-in-arms, governed only by their missions. Compensation relates to the nature of the work—gold bars, precious stones, cold cash, or real estate. They share everything in a life that is both dangerous and rewarding.

Tasked with snatching a money launderer, they must include his personal assistant or leave her to the tender mercies of the men searching for him. They take Mallory as their payment this time around.

 Mallory Strickland is a loner, the product of her past, someone who won't be at another's mercy again. When she finds herself permanently kidnapped by three men who have chosen her to be their wife, she rebels.

It doesn't matter if these men have supposedly saved her and profess good intentions—and are gorgeous, virile individuals—she refuses to be enslaved. Can she withstand their determined, sensual assault?

 She can't—and at what cost…

 Buy Links:




Teaser Excerpt: 

A sting in my thigh…

My fingers sought out a tiny red mark, just above the hem of my skirt. It didn’t rate on the tenderness scale. So, I had clearly succumbed to a drug, expertly administered. At least I’d been spared the binding and darkness of the sack over my head.

Recalling the details helped keep the fear of the unknown at bay, and I resolved to garner as much information as possible. The way I’d done growing up, moving from home to home, never knowing the people or what they were capable of, but having that same dark suspicion of what they wanted from me.

Those men could have done me considerable harm—a blow to the head, to the face, something to quickly subdue me and avoid notice from the street—yet they hadn’t. So they wanted me … intact. I wasn’t sure how to interpret that other than thinking they didn’t want to damage the goods.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed to my feet, feeling the concrete’s rough texture beneath my soles. When I was confident I could stay upright, I tottered toward the wall with the tiny window set high, nearly at the ceiling. Once there, I touched the smooth surface, some kind of plaster, and followed it along to the bottom of the stairs.

I listened hard before cautiously ascending, one careful step at a time. With my ear pressed up against the solid wooden panel, I heard nothing and tried the knob. It remained rigid beneath my fingers, not that I expected it to turn and for me to walk boldly out of here. Wherever here was.

All the same, it took something out of me, and I sank down on the slightly wider top stair and contemplated my prison. And it was a prison. I had no idea why I was the sole occupant or what I’d done to deserve being held in this manner, but I appeared stuck. In an empty house.

I made my way back down, having spied a light switch, which turned on the single bulb hanging in the room. No longer reliant on the scant light from the high window, I commenced to exploring the rest of the area I was confined in. It turned out there was a pocket door tucked near a corner, and I slid it aside to reveal a small bathroom.

There was a sink, toilet, with a roll of tissue sitting on the tank, and a shower stall—sans curtain. A tiny bar of soap, travel toothbrush and paste, and a stack of folded paper towels were on offer—nothing I could see to escape or utilize against my kidnappers, if they were even coming back. I couldn’t say what frightened me more, being abandoned to perish in the crappy room, or facing whoever wanted me here.

I hurriedly made use of the facilities and cleaned up, noticing there was no mirror, either. I could only assume I looked a mess. I felt like one. Despite my efforts, panic began to build again, ratcheting up my heart rate and blood pressure.

To combat the feeling, I hustled back to the other room and took a turn around, examining every square inch visually and with touch. Given its apparent age, the place was really clean, smelling vaguely of bleach—no mouse droppings or spider webs in sight. Aside from the double bed, dressed in a fitted sheet, there was nothing else. Maybe a James Bond type could have dismantled the mattress looking for a box spring and picked the lock with it, but I fell short of the 007 status. Anyway, I figured it was made of pure foam. And the frame was one solid piece of metal.

The sheet resisted my attempts to rip it initially, and then I desisted. What would I do with pieces of cloth? Garrote someone? Set a trap on the stairs? Bind wounds? Hang myself?

My attention returned to the bed frame, calling up the dimensions of a full-sized bed. I stared at the window, mentally measuring the distance to the floor. Maybe… I shoved to my feet in the chilly room when I heard them. A door shut, and male voices sounded above, followed by footsteps—three sets of them, possibly four. I cursed quietly, having missed an opportunity.

I breathed deeply and snatched up the sheet for additional coverage. I sat, striving to look as unprepossessing as possible, my brain working hard, my belly tight with resolve, and my heart rate nearly under control. Time to size up the enemy. Prepared for anything.

Famous last words.


 About the author:

Allyson Young aka Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.

She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.

A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of May 2020 she has published seven series and several standalones, with others in the works.

Allyson Young  @allysonyoung45

Friday, November 13, 2020

Pink Triangle by Lea Bronsen...

Pink Triangle


Lea Bronsen

 Fearing and desiring the enemy... Sometimes you can’t choose who you love.

 Oslo, April 1945

 Paul is a handsome, free-spirited Norwegian in the prime of his life, but he doesn’t fit the German occupant ideology simply because he’s gay. And so, when the Gestapo catches him for producing illegal propaganda, he’s tortured and threatened to be sent to a German concentration camp with a pink triangle sewn on his shirt, the symbol for homosexuals.

 It will take great courage and mind-blowing circumstances of luck, as the Führer commits suicide and the end of the war seems nearer by the day, for Paul to avoid his death transport to Germany.

 And it will take the growing attraction of the Gestapo commander himself to regain his full freedom—and capture his heart.

#WWII #WW2 #Historical #Manlove #MM #Gay #Erotic #Romance

Available from 

Books2Read / / / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks / Smashwords

 Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads

See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest



A couple hours later, when the sun stood high and bright in the sky, the sound of horseshoes came from the garden. Paul had dozed in the hay, enveloped by the soft jacket lining and lulled by happy bird songs and the rustling of leaves outside, but the commander’s return had him sit up against the wall.

The horse’s hairy muzzle appeared in the crack before the big animal pushed the door open and stepped into the shed.

Heimlich sat straight in the saddle, bare-chested, slim but muscular in all the right places, his uniform folded across his lap. Paul tried not to gape at the sight. With ease and grace, the commander dismounted and hung his clothes on hooks on the wall. Drops of sweat pearled on his forehead and temple and rolled down his firm chest and abdomen, making his skin shine. So, so very sexy. He took off his hat, uncovering his dark blond hair slick with sweat—but it only accentuated the sexiness.

He turned to Paul and caught him staring. “What are you smiling at?”


Paul straightened and regretted having let himself be carried away. “I wasn’t smiling.”

“Yes, you were. You think I’m not aware I look like an office rat? You need to rub it in?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know very well I could use more muscle, and that I need to strengthen my stomach.” He tapped his six-pack, which was perfect in Paul’s world.

“Well, that hasn’t crossed my mind.”

An understatement.

“Really?” The commander raised a brow. “Do you honestly like what you see?”

Holy fuck, what a question...

Uncertain whether the man realized what he’d just said, Paul waited a bit before he asked, voice low, “Are you honestly asking a homosexual if he likes your body?”

The commander blinked slowly. “When you put it like that...” With a goofy smile, he turned to gaze out of the shed and shook his head.

Paul allowed him a moment to recoup. He was tempted to tease, but didn’t.

When the commander returned to Paul, he pointed at him. “Forget I said that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Yeah, I’m likely to forget...

They held each other’s looks for a while, the commander inscrutable.

“Listen,” Paul said, emboldened by the awkward situation. “I’m going to be very frank with you. I hate you with all of my heart—”

No reaction.

“—But when you parade around me like that,” he pointed at the man’s naked torso, “you make it difficult for me to...”

“To what?”

To not like you. 

About the author

Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.


Meet Lea Bronsen on 

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