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Overview
Blushing, shy Felicity does something incredibly brave and submits to a man she only knows as Sir, but will his demands push her beyond her limits?
Felicity attends the local burlesque fair just to sell her Quietly Cute jewelry. A handsome stranger offers to spank her, and she surprises herself by submitting. Sir makes her choose the implement he will use to take her spanking virginity—and uses it to great effect.
She finds herself becoming the sexy, self-made billionaire's sub who is punished with bondage, forced into exhibitionism, hot wax and other delicious tortures. Felicity submits willingly, getting braver with every interaction. But when Samuel offers her the means to establish her business and pulls her out of the poverty she lives in, she snaps, seeing it as an insult to her pride and possibly even a payment for her sexual services.
Can Samuel convince her otherwise, or will she walk out of his life forever?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781784308506 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 11/17/2015 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 97 |
| File size: | 514 KB |
About the Author
Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco and Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker (She is TEB's resident "Naked Chef") and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.
Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Victoria Blisse 2015. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
Feeling brave, Felicity completed the form and booked herself in for the local burlesque fair. Held in Manchester and not far from her home, it seemed her brand of pretty, quirky jewelry would fit perfectly. Yes, there would be stalls with sexy toys and also there’d be performances of stripping ladies, but basically it was just another craft fair.
Or at least that’s what she’d convinced herself it would be like. She’d taken to crafting after losing her job. Finding another job had proved difficult, so she’d used the material, buttons and pretty things she’d collected and had made brooches, necklaces and earrings. She’d worn her first fabric flower creation to church one Sunday and had had several compliments on the big red bloom along with a request to make more for others.
The church fair had been her first and that’s when she’d decided to have a go at making a living from her handmade trinkets. She enjoyed the crafting. She’d moved on from simple scrap flowers to felted animals, beadwork and even some cross stitching. Each craft she’d learned, each new item she sold, built up her depleted stock of self-esteem.
It hadn’t easy. Making ends meet was a definite challenge, but it wasn’t the first time she’d had to struggle with poverty, so she’d met it head-on with a strength she never acknowledged she had. She hadn’t ever been rich, but as a child, she’d experienced what it meant not to have a penny to her name. Her mum had struggled to keep her fed and clothed, and often went without herself. Felicity’s school days had been full of bullying, over her either holey shoes and her ancient cardigan—which seemed to have always been at least two sizes too small for her—or her father’s alcoholism.
She’d soon learned to keep to herself. Felicity’s friends had existed only between the pages of books. Her book friends hadn’t cared that she had peeling wallpaper dotted with mold and an old mattress on the floor. They hadn’t cared that she had no toys or new clothes. They had accepted her just the way she was and frolicked happily in her mind.
She loved the library, had spent much of her time there as a child and had grown to do the same again. It was always warm, full of books and comfy places to sit and read. In the depths of winter, she had gone to the library to warm up as she couldn’t afford to put her on heating in her tiny flat. Christmas dinner had consisted of a tin of cream of tomato soup and a stale slice of bread. Luckily, things had started to look up after that. Felicity had pulled together enough stock to attend a couple of craft fairs or car boots every weekend, then she had the means to start listing items on eBay and, little by little, she had pulled herself out of the pit, paid her bills, bought food and used heat and light once more. She still had to keep a tight rein on her spending and she didn’t have any savings because of the occasional mad urge and impulse buy. Sometimes she got tired of counting every penny.
Felicity had been poor all her life and had inherited her mum’s burning pride. No one in her life knew how much she’d struggled. She’d kept everyone at arm’s length purposefully to maintain her pride. The church had a food bank, and she volunteered there once a week, but she wouldn’t dream of accepting that charity herself.
“There’s always someone worse off than you are,” her Mum had said over and over. “Remember that, our Felicity. Count your blessings, do good to those who need it and you’ll be content.”
Her mum had never been particularly happy but when Dad had died, her mum had spiraled into depression and discovered her own addictive nature, so Felicity had ended up alone in the world days before her sixteenth birthday. She’d learned to be self-sufficient, to distrust strangers and that generally, life was shit. She’d gone to church, just in case. God seemed to have it in for her family, and she really wasn’t keen on being the next one axed before her time.
Love, romance and even sex just didn’t feature in her life. They were too much like hard work and involved opening herself up to someone. She’d had a little experience of all three and she’d decided that was more than enough. At least if she was alone and miserable, she didn’t have anyone else to blame and couldn’t bring another person down with her.
Her mum and dad had often argued, had occasionally beaten the crap out of each other, but they’d loved with a passion that was fierce and all encompassing. Felicity was scared of love. She never wanted to be consumed by another—never wanted to need someone like that. She was much happier depending on herself and that went for her sexual pleasure too.
So the burlesque fair, with is promises of sexy delights, didn’t tempt her. But the possibility of selling her quirky, cute crafts had overcome her fear of the sexy side of it, so she’d booked, prepared and turned up on the day of the fair with her loins girded against all temptation.
When she arrived and was greeted by a tall, blonde woman in break-neck heels and a tight red latex dress that left nothing to the imagination, Felicity started worrying about what else she was going to see. She’d worn her practical flats, comfortable long skirt and had layered up a cute blouse, cardigan and jacket so she’d be ready for anything. She’d spent hours in roasting-hot school halls and freezing chapels selling her hand-crafted wares. She’d soon learned the tricks of the trade.