Jane of Behind the Chintz Curtain blog fame is one of the most generous, supportive and just plain good people you could hope to meet. Naturally, when I heard she had a new release I told her I’d love to feature her on Trent Evans Letters. Her book is now live, so I wanted to do my part to trumpet its release. It’s a good one, folks — both hot and smart.
I highly recommend you check this one out:)
I see all of you, no matter how hard you try to hide yourself from me. The only question is … who else will?
Four stories, four women; whose scene will you wish was your own?
* * * *
I scramble onto the bed and lie my still-damp body down on the rumpled white sheets.
The seconds tick by. Then the minutes.
When he finally reappears the wash of relief makes my eyes prickle. But then I see the soap in his hand. “So,” he says coldly, peeling back the wrapper to reveal a snowy-white bar. “It seems we have two issues.” He crumples the paper and drops it to the floor. “One,” he pins me with his icy blue eyes, “lying.”
I shake my head. “I’m so sorry. I had every intention of–”
The frigid look he gives me kills my apology dead.
“Two,” he continues, his mouth twisting with annoyance “your aversion to both my cum and your own.” He takes a step towards the bed and I clutch at the sheet beneath me. “The first,’ he says, placing a knee on the mattress and leaning down to press a palm to my forehead, “I think we can deal with very effectively with this.” He brings the bar of soap to my mouth. “Open.”
I don’t want to. I really don’t. But everything in me aches at his displeasure. His disapproval. Reluctantly, I part my lips.
“The second,” he watches impassively as the acrid chemical taste floods my mouth and my eyes widen in horror at the suds beginning to bubble on my tongue, “I think will require something a little more creative on my part.” He leans in close, his eyes flashing with anger. Oh, God. More and more horrid little bubbles are born as I try not to swallow and saliva begins to pool. “I’m too pissed at you to begin that lesson right now but just know that from tomorrow morning you’re going to be wearing my cum like it’s fucking haute couture.” He pauses. “Do you understand?”
I nod frantically, soap-streaked drool beginning to seep from the corners of my mouth as my teeth gradually sink into the cake’s increasingly soft surface.
He stares at me dispassionately. “I expect you to hold that in your mouth for five more minutes. Don’t you dare drop it and make me more disappointed in you than I already am.”
Disappointed. From your lips, that word has the power to cut me to the quick more than any other.
I begin to sob quietly. Count every awful second, tears trailing down my cheeks as I watch the digits on the alarm clock tick ever more slowly over. The soap is relentless, invading every recess of my mouth and a lifetime seems to pass before the red three becomes a red eight. When he reaches down and unceremoniously plucks the white bar from my lips, my chin is streaked with an unholy mix of sudsy saliva, snot and tears.
“Go and rinse your mouth out.”
* * * *
* * * *
Jane Gilbert is a Northern-Southern Hemisphere hybrid with a penchant for writing kinky, sexy things. Her first published story, Thorn King, appeared in Cleis Press’ erotic anthology A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women. Visit Jane at her blog, Behind The Chintz Curtain, where she rambles about sex, books, kink and life or follow her on Twitter @ChintzCurtain.