O Come All Ye Kinky

Overview

20% of all proceeds from O Come All Ye Kinkywill be donated to the Domestic Violence Project of the National Leather Association–International.

Christmas is a time of love and joy, and the New Year is a time of renewal. But they are also times of stress and strife, family drama, pressure and heartache—a potent mix of high expectations and conflicted emotions. Add in power exchange relationships, kinky gift swaps, and unconventional love in a sometimes unforgiving world, and you ...

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Overview

20% of all proceeds from O Come All Ye Kinkywill be donated to the Domestic Violence Project of the National Leather Association–International.

Christmas is a time of love and joy, and the New Year is a time of renewal. But they are also times of stress and strife, family drama, pressure and heartache—a potent mix of high expectations and conflicted emotions. Add in power exchange relationships, kinky gift swaps, and unconventional love in a sometimes unforgiving world, and you have a formula for a sizzling anthology of stories that tug at your heart.

From Ava March’s forbidden Regency love between men, to Katie Porter’s scorching hot contemporary tale of two women discovering holiday happiness, everyone will find a favorite here. Pervertible toys abound: Lambda Literary Award finalist L.A. Witt’s candy cane, Jane Davitt’s wrapping paper and tape, and Alexa Snow’s Christmas candles all please and delight. Newcomer Elyan Smith and fan favorite Kim Dare both celebrate New Year’s Eve with romantic flair and kinky fireworks, while bestselling author Joey W. Hill’s poignant story of discovery and commitment will lead you home.

Whatever your desires, we invite you to explore new fantasies and old with these eight kinky tales of holiday happy endings.

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Editorial Reviews

http://www.heroesandheartbreakers.com/blogs/2012/11/first-look-o-come-all-ye-kinky-anthology-december-3-2012 - Tori Benson
[A] celebration of love . . . This anthology is sure to put some extra naughty in your nice this holiday season.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781937551803
  • Publisher: Riptide Publishing, LLC
  • Publication date: 12/3/2012
  • Pages: 232
  • Product dimensions: 5.25 (w) x 8.00 (h) x 0.53 (d)

Meet the Author

Kim Dare is a twenty-nine-year-old, full-time writer from Wales. Visit Kim Dare on the web at http://www.kimdare.com.

Jane Davitt is English but currently lives in Canada with her husband, children, and cats. Visit Jane Davitt on the web at http://www.janedavitt.com.

Joey W. Hill, national best-selling author and winner of the 2011 Romantic Times Career Achievement award, has published over thirty contemporary and paranormal BDSM erotic romances, including four series. Free excerpts from all her works are available at her website, http://www.storywitch.com.

Ava March is a multi-published author of smoking hot M/M historical erotic romances. Visit Ava March on the web at http://www.avamarch.com.

Katie Porter is the co-writing team of Lorelie Brown and author Carrie Lofty, friends and critique partners of six years. Visit Katie Porter on the web at http://www.katieporterbooks.com.

Elyan Smith lives in the southwest of England. You can find him at http://www.elyansmith.com and http://www.twitter.com/ElyanSmith.

Alexa Snow is an emotional person who appreciates practicality in others. Visit Alexa on the web at http://home.comcast.net/~alexasnow.

L.A. Witt is a prolific author of romance titles that explore all sexual orientations. Visit L.A. Witt on the web at http://www.loriawitt.com
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Read an Excerpt

O Come All Ye Kinky


By Sarah Frantz

Riptide Publishing

Copyright © 2012 Ava March, Alexa Snow, Elyan Smith, Jane Davitt, Joey W. Hill, Katie Porter, Kim Dare, and L.A. Witt
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-937551-80-3



CHAPTER 1

Tree Topper

Jane Davitt


"A star? Why not the angel I saw when I was getting out the tinsel?" Stan rummaged around in the box of tree decorations before straightening, an angel in his hand. "Found it! Please, Martin? The star's so boring."

Martin suppressed a sigh. He yearned to bend Stan over that box again and deal out a few swift slaps to Stan's up-thrust ass, but if he did, they'd end up in bed, the decorating abandoned. He wanted the tree finished this afternoon. Outside, it was snowing lightly, flakes spinning lazily through the air, the perfect background to festive activities. Stan was ruining the mood with his complaints about everything from the size and shape of the tree they'd bought at the last minute, to the setting on the thermostat. And now, apparently, Martin's taste in tree decorations.

"I like the star."

"Then why do you even have the angel?" Stan swept his hand through his dark hair, all pout and petulance.

"It was my grandmother's. I don't feel good about throwing it out, but I never liked it."

Saying that aloud had probably doomed him to coal in his stocking, but it was the truth. The angel had an insipid smile and garish pink and gold wings. The star was an airy twist of silver wire and crystal, breathtakingly beautiful when it caught the glow of the tree lights.

"You don't like anything I like." Stan let the angel fall back into the box, forgotten, then turned, flirtatious now, his dark gray eyes sparkling. "I bet you don't even like spanking me anymore."

Martin caught himself before he could fall into that trap and assure Stan that, yes, he really did. Stan would insist he prove it.

"If we don't get the tree finished, where can I put your presents?"

"If I was five years old, not twenty-five, that might work," Stan told him, his chin tipped up at a challenging angle.

Martin wasn't buying the attempt to seem indifferent. Stan loved gifts, cooing over small tokens with genuine delight.

"Just untangle the lights," he said. "They go on first."

"Everyone knows that, stupid." Stan paused as if waiting for something, then heaved a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Lights. Right."

Jesus, he was sick of Stan's games. If Stan wanted Martin's hand punishing his ass, why didn't he kneel and beg for it instead of fraying Martin's temper with his whining and increasingly unsubtle provocations? Martin would've made Stan wait until they'd finished the tree, but he wouldn't have turned him down.

It was humiliating to know that Stan had minimal respect for him these days. Affection, yes, but no respect.

Martin could still remember the incredulous joy he'd felt the first time his hand had connected with Stan's bare ass, all nervousness lost in that crisply resounding slap and Stan's open-throated moan of pleasure. Delivering a spanking had once been the pinnacle of his fantasies.

Now he thought of it as more of a stepping-stone, except the next stone was out of reach and he was stranded at the start of his journey.

Stan was sitting on the floor now, shoulders slumped, listlessly untangling a strand of lights, masterfully depicting dejection.

Martin bit his lower lip, dragging his teeth over it until it stung. There was no point in decorating in a strained, tense atmosphere, jarringly at odds with the carols playing in the background. Hating himself for doing it, he cleared his throat and prepared to compromise.

"I don't appreciate being called 'stupid,'" he said, forcing his voice deeper. "I think you need a reminder of who you are, boy."

Stan tossed the lights aside and winked at him before composing his features into a semblance of penitence. "I'm sorry, Sir. I know I've been behaving badly."

Martin moved from the couch to a straight-backed dining chair and patted his lap. "Over my knee."

Stan rose and took a step toward Martin, a faintly triumphant smirk on his lips. Resentment at the falsity of it all turned Martin's annoyance to anger. He snapped his fingers and then pointed to the floor. "No. On your knees. Crawl to me and beg for your punishment." Stan arched his eyebrows skeptically, the unspoken Really? making Martin flush and swallow hard to quell his embarrassment as his confidence drained away.

Fuck.

"Oh, just get over here," he said wearily.

He didn't bother to peel down Stan's jeans for the few lackluster swats he administered. His cock was lax and disinterested, the brief spanking leaving him weighed down by shame at his failure to be the Dom that Stan deserved.

"I'm going out to get more tree lights," he said when Stan had flounced off his knee, as disappointed by his spanking as Martin. "Throw the others out. They're not worth the effort of untangling."

"You're ready for a change, huh?" Stan's smile was stiff, hurt.

"I'm talking about the lights," Martin snapped. "It wasn't a coded fucking message. Jesus, not everything's about you."

There. Another rule broken. Good Doms didn't swear at their subs.

* * *

Martin ran his errand in a daze of misery. He'd told his parents he wanted to spend Christmas with Stan, holding firm in the face of their disappointment. They'd included Stan in their invitation, but Stan had refused to go.

"I don't do parents, okay? Mine suck and yeah, yours sound nice, but I just don't do that happy-families-around-the-tree crap. Go without me. I'll be fine."

At the time, choosing Stan over dry turkey and gentle nagging about his lack of a promotion had been an easy decision to make. Now Martin was regretting it. He'd taken time off from his accounting job, Christmas Eve through to New Year's Day, sacrificing some weekends in November to do it. Stan was at community college, studying graphic design after five years of drifting from job to job, so he had three weeks free.

It should have been idyllic: the two of them holed up snug and warm, or braving the chill to ski the slopes outside their town with a group of friends. Martin had printed off recipes to try, planning indulgent brunches, romantic suppers.

He'd ordered online, too, erotic toys that deserved better than to be called that, given how serious they looked, all black leather or shining steel. Maybe "tools" fit better.

And maybe it didn't matter, any of it, because Christmas was going to be a disaster.

In the line to pay for the lights, a display of red and green bag clips caught Martin's eye. The springs on the clips were strong enough that, if used on flesh, they'd hurt like hell, the plastic teeth leaving precise, dark bruises behind. He reached out to take a packet, then let his hand fall to his side. Why bother? Stan wouldn't let him use them. He paid for the lights and headed back to his car, veering between blaming Stan for not taking anything seriously and cursing himself for allowing Stan's attitude to persist. How could he have so deep a need to dominate and yet be so inept at doing it?

When he'd met Stan at a party six months earlier, he'd known what Stan was after five minutes talking to him, despite his own lack of experience. A slow, powerful beat of arousal had thrummed through him as Stan's easy flirtatious manner became deferential, appealing. They'd gone back to Martin's apartment, and then, oh God, it'd been so good. Fantasies he'd never thought would come true fulfilled, Stan responsive, encouraging, so understanding when Martin had confessed that he'd never done this, not really, just wanted—

He wished he knew where his steps had faltered. It hadn't been a single defining moment, but a series of them. The time he'd brought out a flogger and Stan's eyes had widened, not with anticipation but wariness, the sharp shake of his head safeword enough. Or the night he'd cuffed Stan to their bed, planning to torture him so deliciously, make that lithe body strain at the bonds. He'd wanted Stan begging with every squirm and whimper for a mercy Martin would grant only when he was ready ... but Stan had panicked with one ankle still free, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath, and the cuffs joined the flogger on a high shelf.

Once released, Stan had brushed Martin's concerned questions aside with a shrug and a grin, his composure restored so quickly that Martin wondered if he'd misread Stan's reaction to the bondage. "Of course you didn't freak me out. Cuffs? That's D/s 101. It's nothing. Just not in the mood to be tied down. You know how it is. Another time, huh?"

That time had never come. If Stan wanted only the occasional playful spanking, Martin would have accepted that. His love for Stan didn't center on Stan's willingness to sub for him. It was certainly a factor in why he found Stan so attractive, but taken out of the equation, there was plenty left to build on. But Stan had been cheerfully frank about his previous boyfriends. With the exception of the last one, Neal, who sounded like an asshole, Stan had enjoyed subbing for them. From everything he'd said, what they'd done to him had gone a hell of a lot further than anything Martin had attempted.

So obviously it wasn't the flogger or cuffs Stan had an issue with, but the inexperience of the man using them.

Martin pulled into his parking space and stared up at the apartment building. It was too cold to stay in the car feeling sorry for himself, but he had to make a conscious effort to get out, the boxes of lights tucked under his arm.

Once inside the apartment, he looked around for Stan. Stan's laptop was open on the dining table, its screen lit up, but there was no sign of its owner. Martin called out a greeting as he walked over to the table to set down the lights.

"In here," Stan yelled from the bathroom. "Nosebleed."

"I'll get some ice," Martin called back, sympathetic but not overly concerned. Stan's nosebleeds were frequent and messy in the winter when the heating was on around the clock and the apartment air was dry.

He glanced at the laptop. Stan had Skype open; no video, just an ongoing conversation in the message box. Martin was a page-at-a-glance reader, so good manners made him avert his eyes. Then his brain caught up to what he'd read. He sat in the chair Stan had left pushed askew, and scrolled back to the start of the conversation.

Stan had the right to talk to his friends and exes in private, of course, but not this one. Not Neal. It wasn't nosiness that made Martin read, but an instinctive urge to protect Stan from the Dom he'd left so abruptly, breaking a brand-new contract in the process. Martin didn't know all the details, but that was telling in itself; Stan had shared plenty about his other partners. Neal had been summed up in a few terse sentences: "Didn't work out, so I left him, my job, hell, the state. I needed the space. I didn't trust myself around him, and I sure as fuck didn't trust him."

Neal had initiated the conversation, peppering Stan with trivialities until Stan had relaxed. Viewed objectively, it was a clever seduction. The talk had eased into a playfully erotic inquisition, Stan's answers becoming shorter, his discomfort with the intimate tone plain in the typed words.

Martin scanned the lines quickly, snatching at phrases, skipping through twenty minutes of talk in as many seconds, his heart thudding, a seashell roar in his ears.

I'm not needy. Martin gives me everything he's got.

I've seen pictures of him on your Facebook, puppy. He's cute for an older guy, but what's a nice pain slut like you doing with a teddy bear for a Dom, hmm?

I'm not like that!

We both know you are.

I don't like that sick shit you're into. I don't need it.

Lying to me? Really?

I'm going now.

Not until I give you permission. Tell me what the last thing was he did to you.

No.

Nothing to tell, is that it?

He spanked me. I pushed him all afternoon until he lost it. Satisfied?

Hard? Did you cry for him?

No ...

I would have made you scream.

He's not like you. I love him. Didn't love you.

Did I ever ask you to? You were mine. My slut. My slave. My boy.

Yeah, and you blew it. I left. I'm Martin's now.

So come back to me. I'll punish you for leaving, but you'll love it, I promise.

Fuck off!

Oh, that was a big mistake, pup. What happens to you when you're disrespectful?

I don't remember. I have to go.

Tell me. Now. Or I'll send your teddy bear some pictures of you. Nasty ones. The ones you begged me to delete.

You're an asshole, you know that?

Tell me.

Fine. The soap for my mouth, the ruler for my hands, the cane for the backs of my legs, and the small cage for as long as it takes me to remember what I am.

Good boy. Now come back to me.

No fucking way. Ever. I'm with

Martin saw a splash of blood on the keyboard from the nosebleed that had made Stan break off his conversation. Anger blazed through him, directed solely at Neal, who had no business upsetting Stan by acting as if he were still Stan's Dom with the right to control him.

"I didn't feel safe with him," Stan had said when Martin had pushed for more details. "The stuff we did, oh God, yes, it was good. Extreme, but I loved it. I had friends who warned me about him taking things too far, but I didn't listen. The day after I signed a contract to go 24/7 for six months, I ... realized they'd been right. Tore it up, left it on the bed, and got the hell out. He didn't try to get me back. Don't know what I would've said if he'd tried."

"Then you moved here and met me," Martin had said, awkward in the face of Stan's distress. He'd wanted to ask more questions, but Stan was his now, safe, and it was clearly upsetting Stan to discuss Neal, so why put him through that?

Stan had smiled, sunrise-bright. "Best thing that ever happened to me."

Martin eyed the laptop with loathing, consumed by a longing to punch a man he'd never met.

God. He slammed the laptop shut with a hand that was visibly shaking, stood, and turned to see Stan watching him, his expression blank.

Silence stretched between them, pulled taut until it snapped, leaving an empty, waiting space.

"I read it," Martin said. "All of it." His voice rasped in his dry throat. "Do you want to go back to him? Back to someone who can give you what you want, control you the way I can't?"

"You didn't read it right if you think that's ever gonna be what I want." Stan walked over, his face pale, damp from a recent wash. "I'm sorry. That was the first time he's gotten in touch since I left. I panicked—guess you noticed—but in a way, it's a relief. I knew he'd try something to get me back and now he has. It's over."

"He might try again."

Stan shrugged. "I'll set up a new account and block him.

He's three states away. He won't come knocking on our door, don't worry."

"That's not what's worrying me."

"Then what is? I'm not going anywhere until you kick me out." Stan's eyes widened. "Oh God. You want me gone and I just gave you a great excuse?"

"No!" Martin pulled Stan into a tight hug. "That's not what I want."

Stan tipped his head back and met Martin's gaze. "Then what is? Because if we're being honest here, things aren't working, are they? You're not getting what you want from me, whatever that is."

"I want ..." Martin paused, struggling for the perfect words. "More," he said finally. "I know I've scared you with how far I want to take things, and I'd never push you past your limits, but God, there's so much we could do if you trusted me enough. And you can, I swear it."

Stan shook his head, his forehead creased with bewilderment. "You've never scared me or come close to my limits. I wish you would. Hell, I've been acting out for weeks trying to get you to punish me the way I need."

"But ..." If Stan was bewildered, Martin was lost. "Okay, let's talk this out."

He went over to the couch and sat. Stan followed him and slid to his knees at Martin's feet, his spine straight, his hands resting at the small of his back. It was done with unthinking grace, a simple pose Stan must have adopted a thousand times.

Martin swallowed, aroused by the sight, but uncomfortable discussing their relationship with their positions so clearly defined as unequal; Stan owning his submission, while he just ... drifted. If Stan went to his knees, he should have been ordered there. "You don't have to do that."

"I want to." Stan's voice was fierce, even angry. "Martin—Sir—I want to."

Martin ran his hand over Stan's hair. "I love seeing you like this." It was a confession.

"Then order me to my knees more often!" Stan rolled his eyes, caught himself and ducked his head contritely. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to dictate to you."

"Stop it!" Martin stood, leaving Stan on his knees. "Stop playing at it when we both know you don't mean it. I'm not a Dom, not really. Just someone with a head full of kinky fantasies. You don't respect me and you're just fucking humoring me now with all that 'sorry, Sir' crap."

"I'm trying to give you what you said you want," Stan said quietly, no hint of resentment showing. He was holding position as if hoping his show of submission would bring Martin closer. Instead Martin walked over to the window, turning his back on Stan with a jerk of his shoulder he knew was childish. "I'm trying to give you more."


(Continues...)

Excerpted from O Come All Ye Kinky by Sarah Frantz. Copyright © 2012 Ava March, Alexa Snow, Elyan Smith, Jane Davitt, Joey W. Hill, Katie Porter, Kim Dare, and L.A. Witt. Excerpted by permission of Riptide Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

About O Come All Ye Kinky,
About Our Charity,
Tree Topper, by Jane Davitt,
'Twas the Night, by Ava March,
Fireworks, by Katie Porter,
Candy Caning, by L.A. Witt,
Submissive Angel, by Joey W. Hill,
Open Return, by Elyan Smith,
Ring Out the Old and In the New, by Alexa Snow,
His Very Last Chance, by Kim Dare,
About the Authors,
About the Editor,

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Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
  • Posted August 20, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Such a wonderful book and a wonderful cause. This book has becom

    Such a wonderful book and a wonderful cause. This book has become my new "Christmas Tradition."

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 26, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Favorite was Submissive Angel by Joey W. Hill. An m/m BDSM love

    Favorite was Submissive Angel by Joey W. Hill. An m/m BDSM love story set at Christmas time. Robert a antique toy store owner and Teddy Bear Dom comes to be healed of personal tragedies by Ange, a submissive employed by Robert. I found Ange to be an intriguing character, ballet dancer, cook and just a plain sweetheart. I hope in the future Ms. Hill will write a full length novel about these two.


    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 17, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Reviewed by: Sabrina Book provided by: NetGalley Review original

    Reviewed by: Sabrina
    Book provided by: NetGalley
    Review originally posted at Romancing the Book




    I LOVE this publishing house. The quality of work they put out is pretty amazing. And the quality of this anthology was nothing short of that. The diversity in the stories was good. The authors are all spectacular in their genres and I have a couple new authors to explore. My rating has nothing to do with lack of quality or reading the same thing over and over again. My rating has everything to do with the lack of “aww” from my feelings department. I got it from a couple of stories, but on the overall I found it lacking. That’s the biggest reason that I am not gushing over this anthology.




    But here are the great things: The BDSM was so well done. I didn’t feel uncomfortable reading it at all. It ranged from fairly hardcore to scenes I would not mess around with. None of it made me uncomfortable. The stories were a good length so there was no feeling like this glimpse into the characters lives was too short. They were all happy endings which pretty much makes my day.




    All in all, I do recommend this anthology. It will more than likely be a reread for me. Maybe I can find the “aww” I was looking for the second time around.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 8, 2013

    Submissive Angel by Joey Hill -- M/M with a perfect Holiday endi

    Submissive Angel by Joey Hill -- M/M with a perfect Holiday ending

    I haven't had time to read this entire work but I have read Joey Hill's Submissive Angel. She is my favorite author and I immediately snap up everything she writes. The plus of this book is that a large percent of the proceeds are for the Domestic Violence Project of the National Leather Association-International. Joey gives us a wonderful story of two people very in need of finding each other. Robert and Ange's story is a journey of Ange slowly but sweetly taunting Robert to once again become the person he needs to be. I will never hang another Christmas light without thinking of imaginative ways to use them. This was a fantastic short erotic read. I would love to see Ms. Hill have a chance to give us more of these two because no one writes a story with a HEA quite as well as she does.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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