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By C J Payne

Paperback, 254 pages paperback Online Price:
ISBN: 9781909624757
Format: 203mm x 127mm
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 23rd May 2013

EPUB, 260 pages ebook Online Price:
ISBN: 9781909520622
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 11th April 2013

Category: BDSM / Fetish, Contemporary, Erotic Novels, Femdom

Rating: 0 vote(s).

A contemporary erotic novel with mixed themes including m/f, m/m, menage, cross-dressing, BDSM, fem dom and spanking/CP.

When ambitious solicitor Kara Richardson defends Alex Mann in a shoplifting case she could hardly have expected it to lead to cross-dressing, spanking and sex with BDSM enthusiast Frankie, an ex-boxer and bar owner.

Kara soon realises that she has a strong dominatrix streak and likes to be in control of Alex, as well as an arrogant work colleague, Mark – both of whom willingly submit to her authority: if only she could exert the same control over her emotions as she can over her men then perhaps she would not have found herself falling for the enigmatic Alex …


I’m sitting in my car outside the small block of flats watching. And waiting. Watching and waiting. Waiting for Alex. I know she will appear at any moment. I know her movements …

And there, seated about 200 yards from the flats, is the Roll Royce Silver Shadow which is waiting for Alex. It is deepest crimson, like Alex’s lipstick; it has personalised plates which spell out the word PUNCH (if you use your imagination with letters and numbers) and real leather, white seats. The doors are filled with lead to make them close softly. The owner told me that when we went away together – he knows how to show a lady a good time, and tonight, and every night, that lucky lady is Alex Mann.

I like coming here, parking up in a side street, and watching Alex walk along the pavement. The Roller is always parked away from the flats because the owner doesn’t “do flats” – he rings Alex’s phone three times and then he expects her to leave her apartment. And Alex will leave it as soon as she hears the signal and she’ll walk – she will stretch out her long, luxurious legs and stroll along the street like a pretty flamingo. And if she gets a wolf whistle or a toot from a passing motorist then that’s a bonus to the Roller driver – he likes Alex to get attention just as much as I do. Or did. For the rules have changed now and I’m only an observer.

I feel myself getting wet down below. I always feel turned on when I think of Alex; I shift uncomfortably on the leather seat of my Mercedes Cabriolet CLK 280. Alex will be out in a minute and I’ll get to glimpse her attire. I’ll watch her footsteps on the pavement in her too-high killer heels; I’ll watch her run her hand though her long, blonde hair – hair which was truly my invention; I’ll watch her smile confidently as she sashays down the street swinging her handbag, knowing for all the world that she is a beautiful, beautiful woman – the sort of woman who makes other women jealous and men fawn. And, when I have watched her, I will close my eyes and think back to that wondrous night at my house when I had tears of ecstasy rolling down my cheeks; when my pussy was so sore and excited it tingled for days after – the night that still remains a nirvana in sexual highs. A pinnacle. An Everest.

True to form, a figure appears at the glass door of the flats and, seconds later, Alex walks out onto the street. She is wearing strappy black heels – at least four inches high; a tight as tight black rubber dress which I recognise as one she borrowed from me and didn’t return, and a real fur coat, courtesy one would imagine, of the Roller owner. She walks along the pavement confidently. Her hands are pushed into the pockets of her mink – her black bag is slung carelessly over one shoulder; the skirt of her dress stretches over her long legs and moulds over her knees and thighs. Alex walks. Her gait is long but graceful. Model-esque. It is the stride of the most beautiful of creatures. Her long, blonde hair blows in the wind – some lads in a low-sprung, souped-up car drive past slowly and the passenger shouts something obscene at Alex and gestures. She ignores their juvenility. She saunters on. Towards the Roller. She walks.

I feel turned on; I tremble, I shiver, I quiver like a fired arrow that has hit the bullseye; my pussy is wet and aching for action. God, how I need a prick – God, I need satisfaction.

How has Alex driven me to this shivering wreck of womanhood? How has she made me feel like this? Every time I see her I feel the same way. How’s she done this to me? I can’t get her out of my mind. I’ve tried but I just can’t. I want to but I can’t.

Well, that is the story I’m going to tell here. The story of Alex and me; of our relationship; of how we both discovered unexpected things about ourselves, and how, in more or less a year, we both went from being sexual novices to experienced playmates and how our lives took different turns.

Alex opens the passenger door of the Roller and slides onto the seat. The driver says a few words. He slips the car into gear, indicates, and pulls off slowly. Momentarily the white of the headlights arc across the road and I see the driver and the passenger. The beast and the beauty.

Now the road is bathed in darkness – there are only the street lights and the lights from the communal flats, which Alex has just left, to lighten up the street. It is time for me to go too. I brush away a tear, take a deep breath, and prepare to meet my lover. My vanilla lover. My more conventional boyfriend. A boyfriend I can take home to meet my mother. Yes, I’m back on the straight and narrow after my sojourn with Alex. Still, that doesn’t mean I won’t occasionally decide to whip my lover or cane him or spank him or tie him up. Who knows? It just depends on how I feel and how he behaves. I smile, a tight-lipped smile – before I met Alex I would never have thought such kinky thoughts, but after Alex the sky’s the kinky limit.

I slip my Mercedes Cabriolet into gear and accelerate off to meet my lover in Frankie’s Bar where I know he’ll be patiently waiting for me …

Few authors seem content to ... explore gender expression for what it is, which is an act of expression. Rarely do they allow a transvestite to simply be a straight man who takes comfort in occasionally expressing himself as a woman.

With Kiss, C.J. Payne focuses, for the most part, on that gender expression. Even if she does eventually cross some lines in terms of gender identity, there's no confusion, no covering, and no coping, just the natural progression of placing one's self in situations that enhance the look and feel of femininity.

- Sally Bibrary Frock magazine

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