With decades of experience in women’s correctional facilities, Warden Veronica Striker knows trouble when she sees it – and trouble is written all over the newest inmate in her prison.
Charlie James has several years to serve, and she intends to make the most of her time. But as Charlie struggles to fit into the strict routine of prison life, not to mention the challenges of other, more powerful inmates with demands of their own, she finds herself catching more than her fair share of the stern Ms Striker’s attentions.
What begins as mutual antagonism and suspicion soon turns into romantic tension between warden and inmate, and when Charlie’s secrets are revealed to be a whole lot bigger than Veronica suspected, she’s left picking up the pieces of a gambit gone wrong and hoping it’s not too late to save a girl who desperately needs saving from herself.
“Why are you sulking?” The toe of a dusty boot met the rump of the prisoner with relative gentleness, a nudge more than a kick.
Furious violet tinged blue eyes blazed up at the warrior in response to the stimulation of the captive’s half-covered posterior. That morning, several maidservants had painstakingly dressed Princess Nive in her best finery before she was conducted to her carriage. She was no longer wearing any of it. Upon capture she had been stripped of everything. The warrior had cut away her gown while she screamed in rage and taken every ring, necklace and jewel on her person. Now she sat in the corner of a strange room clothed in a short linen tunic and bound securely with leather straps at her ankles and wrists.
The princess was a stocky young woman with thick thighs, a powerful waist and dainty arms. Her hair was pale blonde, almost white, curling around her shoulders. She was pretty, but in that moment her face was screwed up with fierce rage which made her very unpretty.
“Die,” she hissed, flashing white teeth at her captor.
The warrior Kira laughed, a hearty, genuinely amused sound. She stood tall and broad, defying the passing of ages against all reason. Unlike her scantily clad captive, she wore full leather, her long powerful legs clad in black leggings, her upper body in a form fitting vest and matching gauntlets. Her black hair was plaited and wound around her head, her dark almond eyes focused with undeniable pleasure on her pale captive who spat so angrily and yet was so very helpless.
“This is an honor, you know,” she said with a slow smile. “Tell me your name.”
“I will tell you my name when you draw your last breath.”
“I have been attempting to draw my last breath for the better part of five hundred years,” Kira said, crouching down to inspect her prize more closely. She ran her fingers through the young woman’s blonde curls, gazed at the light dash of freckles which danced across her otherwise pale nose and cheeks. She was very pretty, appealing in a functional, furious sort of way.
“You’re a liar.”
“I so very wish I was, my dear. Now, tell me your name.”
“You know my name,” the prisoner growled.
“I want to hear you say it.”
Those eyes narrowed at her again. “Nive,” the prisoner said. “Princess Nive.”
“Well, Nive,” Kira said. “I have plans for you. If you can be a good girl, I might even untie you at some point.”
“You killed my escort,” Nive replied, a flush of emotion bringing color to her face.
“They killed themselves,” Kira replied, her dark eyes growing cold. “I told them to stand aside.”
“You killed them,” Nive repeated. “And I will kill you.”
“We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Kira said calmly. “You’ll soon see that I have done you a significant favor.”
“You have done me no favor at all! I was to be married.”
“Marriage is highly overrated,” Kira said, rising smoothly to a standing position. She glanced out of the window, noting the setting of the sun. The country inn where she and her captive were staying was remote, but she was expecting a guest very soon.
Nive shuffled around to glare at her. “You are a thief and a murderer,” she said. “My father will have you hunted down. You will hang for this, if you are lucky. I think you will not be lucky. I will ask for your innards to be bared to the sky, feasted upon by birds…”
Kira cast a casual glance over at the bristling young woman. “You have a vicious mind,” she noted. “You would be wasted on marriage.”
Nive let out a string of curses which threatened to turn the air blue, her anger very much getting the better of her until Kira took hold of her, picked her up around the waist, and tossed her onto the bed face down. She flipped Nive’s tunic up to reveal a pleasantly fleshy rear upon which she laid no fewer than a dozen hard slaps of her palm.
“You will speak respectfully to me,” she said in pleasant, conversational tones while beneath her, Nive squirmed and cursed. “If you do not, I will have my way with your rear and any other part of you I find appealing.”
Playfully chastising words were growled huskily into the delicate ear of a curvaceous woman on the receiving end of a vigorous erotic strumming, strands of dark hair falling into her panting mouth as she thrust her hips up against the body of her lover, an older woman with intense eyes and agile fingers.
Monica’s rear was painted red with the aftermath of a previous interlude, her cheeks blushing hot as Erin’s fingers plunged inside her time and time again, urging her toward a panting, screaming, hair flailing climax which shook her to her core. Milky breasts heaved as Monica gasped for air, flat on her back, pink nipples rampant as the last quivering tremors passed through her generous abdomen and thighs.
“I need to misbehave more often,” she said, her lips parting in a broad smile.
Erin slid over Monica’s prone body, her taut frame all lithe lines and ripples. “You misbehave quite enough,” she said, lifting her finger to tap Monica’s nose. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Monica smiled, cat like, her lashes closing slowly over a devilish expression. “Never.”
Erin reached down where Monica’s bent knee left her butt exposed and slapped Monica’s generous rear with a firm hand. “Never?” Keep reading…
With a brisk knock, Helen Twice is back. It’s after curfew, so she knows I’ll be in my room. I’m updating my log when she enters unannounced clutching that damn paddle in her right hand.
“You ready for your punishment?”
“Nope.” I smirk at her. She can take it back up the chain if she likes. I’m not worried.
Sarge steps into the room behind her. Suddenly I am worried. She looks hot as hell, wearing her uniform slacks and a black vest which emphasizes the curve of her bust and the hard line of her abdomen. It also leaves her toned arms free to flex and distract with their deliciousness. Her eyes draw me in, those dark orbs full of mystery. I forget about Twice entirely as I stare at Sarge, just awestruck by the woman. She has a presence I find hard to describe, it’s sort of like having a bunch of fizzing powder dumped down my throat. I’m excited, so much so that I’m breaking out into a light sweat just looking at her.
“We talked about this, Ray.” Twice speaks, killing the moment.
“We did.” I’m in my pajamas. Not ideal clothing for mounting any real kind of resistance. I look from Sarge to Twice and back to Sarge again. “What kind of disciplinary action takes two people?”
“I’m here to supervise,” Sarge says. “Don’t mind me.”
I’m not worried about Twice. She’s a non-issue. But Sarge is another matter. Sarge is going to have my ass if she hears me talk to Twice the way I want to.
“On your stomach, Ray. And take those pants down.” It’s Twice who gives the order. She’s being more aggressive than usual because she doesn’t want to look weak in front of Sarge.
There’s just no way this is happening. I stay exactly where I am, sitting cross-legged on my bed with my log book in front of me.
“Don’t give her time to stall.” Sarge speaks up. She takes two long steps into the room. They bring her beside my bed where she grabs me by the arm and tugs me over so I’m face down. Her speed slows my reaction time by a good couple of seconds in which she’s already smacked my pajama clad ass twice with the flat of her hand. I emit a squeal which has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with shock.
“You knew coming in she wasn’t going to do as she was told, so you have to take charge otherwise you end up getting her into even bigger trouble by letting her dig a hole of insubordination,” Sarge explains to Twice. She smacks my butt again and I squeak again. “See?”
“Yes ma’am,” Officer Twice says. “Of course, we’re not all as physically gifted as you.”
Twice has a point. I’m bigger than her and she has about as much chance of wrangling me as she does riding an asteroid into the nearest sun. I’d never let Helen Twice spank me. She’s pretty, and she’s talented but she’s not half as determined as Sarge.
Held against my bed with Sarge’s hand on my ass, I’m thoroughly distracted. Her fingers are spread across my left cheek, the tips dipping into the crevice between my buttocks. With every little squirm they sink a bit deeper until they’re so close to the unmentionable parts of my unmentionables that I almost stop breathing for being unable to believe that she’s touching me with a level of intimacy that practically makes us lovers apart from the fact that we aren’t.
“Halo’s going to be good for you now,” Sarge tells Twice. “Because if she isn’t, she’s going to have to answer to me. Isn’t that right, Halo?”
The question is growled in my ear in resonant feminine tones. She punctuates it with a squeeze which makes the tip of her ring finger brush ever so lightly over very sensitive flesh untouched by anyone ever, sending tremors coursing through every part of my completely trapped, totally thrilled body.
It’s not easy being a low ranked officer on a space ship with an all-female crew. Halo Ray has it tough keeping the spirited young women under her command in line whilst trying not to come to the attention of her superiors for her own illicit antics. Setting a good example isn’t exactly Halo’s strong suit, and though she makes sure her subordinates are somewhat well behaved, she herself is getting more and more out of control by the day.
With no respect for protocol, orders, or even clearly marked instructions, it seems as though nothing and no-one can stop her. That is, until she comes up against Sarge, a heavenly butch with a firm hand capable of a gentle touch. Unlike other superior officers who pawn her off on one another in an endless round, Sarge brings Halo to world-shattering, knee-trembling, that’s-going-to-leave-a-mark justice again and again.
Temporarily subdued to the useful and the good, Halo tries to settle down. But the secret she’s been carrying since she came aboard has a disruptive power which threatens to tear her relationship apart and destroy any chance at redemption she might have. If she’s going to make it, Halo needs to learn to trust again before her self-destructive tear ends up hurting not just her, but those who depend on her for their survival.
Tamsan smiled a slow, sexy smile. “I want to get to know you better,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you, but you’re not living up to most of the hype.”
“The way your ranch hands were talking the whole place was supposed to be up in flames by now. You have yourself a wild reputation, missy.”
Anna smiled into her beer. “I was a handful when I was younger. Maybe a few of them knew me then.”
“I’d say they did,” Tamsan said. “They’ve been waiting for you to go off the rails since you got here.”
“Well I’d hate to disappoint them,” Anna said. “What should I do? Dance naked on the table? Set a trash can on fire? Rustle a couple head of cattle?”
“I wouldn’t recommend any of those options,” Tamsan said, a hint of sternness sneaking back into her tone. “You can have fun without being a hot mess.”
“What are your suggestions then?”
Tamsan beckoned Anna forward and lowered her voice to a sultry drawl. “You could kiss me.”
Anna’s eyes widened. She wanted to kiss Tamsan, but the direct approach left her somewhat on the back foot. Her lips parted once, twice as she tried to find the words. Then it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter because Tamsan had reached forward, hooked her fingers inside Anna’s shirt and drawn her forward into a warm, soft kiss which made Anna’s sense and objections and thoughts melt into a hot honey goo which trickled down her spine and settled in her loins.
Country mouse turned city girl, Anna got out of rural Texas as soon as she was old enough to leave. Like a lot of wide-eyed young lesbians she was drawn by the West coast’s big cities and bustling sapphic community – which was all too happy to welcome her in, chew her up and spit her out.
After a string of failed relationships and the passing of her father, the care of ten thousand acres of Texas ranch just fell to her. Anna’s not much of a cowgirl, in fact she has trouble getting her horse pointed in the right direction. So when her cattle go astray and her horse bolts, she’s more than relieved when the day is saved by a gorgeous tall blonde cowgirl named Tamsan – a woman who knows exactly who Anna is, and exactly how much trouble she can be.
Tamsan is feminine but strong, capable and in control. She likes to be in charge just as much as Anna likes having things her own way. Erotic sparks fly between the two women who quickly become lovers and are then left with the challenge of how to manage both their relationship and the failing ranch.
Sometimes a bottom gets a little out of hand. Sometimes she thinks she can turn the tables on her top. Naughty Anna is about to discover her place when she tries that on Tamsan* in this excerpt from my latest WIP.
Tamsan stood next to the bed fully dressed, shirt, jeans, buckle, boots and all. “Get dressed, we’ll walk over to your place.”
“Ugh, dressed,” Anna said. “Clothes are so restrictive and pointless.” She reached for Tamsan’s hand and tugged the woman down atop her naked frame. “Why don’t you take those clothes off and see how free you feel?”
Tamsan’s lips covered hers in a hot kiss. “Tempting,” she murmured against Anna’s mouth. “But we really should get to work.”