Erotic Author Spotlight Series: More from Ashe Barker

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It’s Ashe Barker in the erotic author spotlight this week and you can find out more about the lovely Ashe in her feature below. You may remember Ashe from her previous spotlight at Cara Sutra; she’s back with some new hotness for you to enjoy!

As well as finding out all about Ashe in her bio, you can drool over the three super hot (and exceptionally teasing) excerpts from her latest books. Thanks for stepping into the spotlight this week, Ashe.

If you’d like to read about other erotic authors you can find the Erotic Author Spotlight Series here. Erotic author and interested in your own free feature post at Cara Sutra? Find the call for submissions page here.

I run a similar free promotional offer for sex bloggers and sex toy reviewers. You can find the Sex Blogger Spotlight Series page here, and the call for submissions (the Q&A and other info to send me) here.

Email me at [email protected] with your info – whether author or blogger – and I will reply with your spotlight date. This will be the next available Monday for authors and the next available Thursday for bloggers.

– Cara Sutra

Ashe Barker

Ashe Barker author

Hi everyone, and thanks for having me here today. I’m Ashe Barker, writer of smutty romance and very occasional poet. I started writing back in 2012, and have hardly stopped since. I now have around thirty titles published, most of them featuring hot alpha males and panting submissives. I usually write MF but have written a couple of MM stories too, to keep things interesting.

My stories are always steamy, I like the sex to be smokin’ but the plot is important too. I want to keep readers hooked, and try to create passionate, likeable characters with interesting lives in and out of the bedroom (or dungeon). I write about people who I would love to have as my friends in real life too.

I live in the UK, in the north of England. Often I set my stories in this part of the world because I adore it, and because it’s so atmospheric. There’s nothing quite like a windswept, bleak moorland landscape for getting the creative juices flowing.

Apart from reading and writing erotic romance my other passions include walking the Bronte moors close to my home, or hiking in the English Lake District which is where I spend most weekends with my husband, my daughter and two small dogs.

I love to hear from readers so don’t be shy. You can find me on my blog, and on the Totally Bound site. I’m on Facebook, and Twitter and now on Tsu as well. I’m on Pinterest too, and Goodreads.

 

Free Excerpts

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  1. In the Eyes of the Law (Over The Knee Anthology)

She’s still his wife, in the eyes of the law. But is she still his submissive? His to spank?

A momentary lapse of concentration places Libby Novak on the wrong side of the law. A criminal conviction could cause her to lose her job. How much worse could this get?

Libby soon knows the answer to that question when the head of security at the mall shows up. She hasn’t seen her estranged husband for years, and now she discovers Josh has a strict policy on how best to deal with shoplifters. He was her husband and her Dom. Will he turn her over to the police, or would a hard, bare-bottom spanking be sufficient redress for her misdemeanor? After all, that’s how he always dealt with her in the past.

Josh has never forgiven Libby’s betrayal. She let him down. She deserves to be punished. But does he still have that right?

Libby meant to divorce him. She was granted the decree nisi but never quite got round to making it final. They both know she’s still his wife—in the eyes of the law—but is she still his submissive? His to spank?

 

“Why do you want me to spank you, Libby?”

I start to wring my hands, a nervous habit of mine. I stop myself, deliberately lacing my fingers together to keep them still. I meet his steady gaze and do my best to scratch together an answer.

“I don’t know. Lots of reasons. Because I miss it, and no one else does it like you do.”

He lifts one eyebrow. He appears amused. Almost. “You’ve tried others, then?”

I nod. “Two. It wasn’t good.”

“I see. So this, here, today, would be…for old times’ sake? Because you’re feeling contrite and maybe a little horny.”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me.”

“Not yet. But you will. We both know that when your knickers are off and you’re over my knee, your bottom bared and thoroughly spanked, you’ll beg me to fuck you. You always do.”

“You’re being very crude, Josh.”

“You know the rules about speaking plainly on these occasions. So, am I wrong? And if I’m about to punish you, it’s ‘Sir’.”

I pause for several seconds before shaking my head. “You’re not wrong. So you’ll do it then? Sir?”

He smiles, but it’s a grin lacking in warmth. It is sensual, though, dripping with sexy promise. “Take off your jacket and hang it on the back of the door. Then remove your underwear.”

No further answer is required. Butterflies take flight in my stomach. Gleeful anticipation of the sensuality to come in the next few minutes, guilt at the forbidden pleasure and fear of discovery, are all at war within me. “What if someone comes in?”

He leans back in his seat and starts to unbuckle his belt. “No one comes in here without my permission. You have a count of five, Libby. Jacket, underwear then you lay yourself across my lap and raise your skirt. Alternatively, if you prefer, you can just leave and we’ll say no more about any of this.”

I’m not leaving. No way am I going anywhere yet.

“You intend to use your belt?”

“I do. You need something quite…intense, I think, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me for this. Would you agree?”

I offer him a sharp nod as my pussy convulses again. Without another word, I turn from him and shrug off my jacket. I hang it up as directed, then reach under my skirt to peel off my tights and knickers. I step out of my spiky-heeled shoes to remove my clothing, but Josh gestures toward them when I would have left them behind me on the floor.

“Put the shoes back on please. I always prefer your submission to be delivered in sexy heels.”

“I’m not your submissive. Not anymore.”

“We’ll see. The heels, please.” His tone is cool, clipped and oh-so familiar. My pussy dampens more as I slip my shoes back on, then stand before him, waiting.

Josh gets to his feet and draws his belt from the loops at his waistband. He takes his time, holding my gaze as he does so. Then, the belt dangling from his right hand, he walks around the desk. He takes the chair I was sitting on, moving it away from the desk and into the center of the room, where there’s more space. He smiles at me as he sits down on it. He pats his right thigh in invitation. “I think you know the drill, Libby—unless you find yourself in need of a spot of retraining?”

“No, Sir. I remember it perfectly. Thank you.”

We were always ultra-polite at moments like this. Nothing has changed—at least, in that regard—over the two years we’ve been separated. I step forward to stand beside him, then lean over to position myself over his lap.

The first thing I register is the hard bulge of his erection pressing against my right side. I take satisfaction from this. I always loved to know how much I could arouse him, despite his finely honed Dom cool. This he can’t conceal behind an impassive, stern expression or clipped commands. Not that Josh was ever cold, exactly. He was controlled, disciplined, exceptionally firm, but always considerate, and his approach to aftercare was sublime. Josh was always hot on cuddles, tender words and the most exquisite lovemaking when occasion called for it.

He could read situations, by which I mean he read me like a book, and always delivered the perfect formula. If I needed hard, rough, savage, that’s what he would provide. Alternatively, there were times I just wanted to be held, to feel loved and cared for, and he would do that too. He always knew, always got it right.

Today, I need to hurt. And he already has his belt coiled in his hand.

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  1. Chameleon

Book One in the Totally Five Star series

A chance meeting, two strangers whose paths cross—in the same place at the same time, yet a world apart.

When mining engineer Ethan Savage spots the cloaked, veiled woman riding a donkey in the Moroccan desert, he can be forgiven for thinking that in some respects nothing much has changed in two thousand years. She wouldn’t look out of place in Biblical times. They pass, nod, smile politely and go their separate ways, two strangers a world apart.

But when, moments later, she rescues him from his crashed car, the first words she utters make Ethan realise that appearances can be deceptive. His little Berber peasant is not what she seems.

Shifting effortlessly between her traditional roots in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains and her professional life as the Totally Five Star hotel doctor, Fleur is a human chameleon, able to adapt and blend into any environment. At first irritated then amused by the handsome stranger, Fleur knows the assumptions he’s made about her. As their paths cross once more at the luxurious hotel, she realises he, too, is not all he seems. This sexy Englishman holds the key to her most secret and sensual desires, dangerous yearnings she’s kept locked away for years. Now she has a choice to make.

Ethan is only in Marrakesh for a few days, then he’ll be gone and she’ll never see him again. No one will ever know, so surely it will do no harm? Can she pass up this opportunity? And once she’s trusted him with her body, experienced all he can offer, will she be able to return to her old life? Or will the sensual chameleon need to reinvent herself once again to fit into his world?

 

Ethan raked his eyes over every inch of her from her small, slender feet, her slim legs, her smooth mound and slightly rounded stomach, up to her breasts and their swollen nipples now verging on the decadent. His eyes reached hers and held her gaze for a few moments before he lifted one finger, twirling it to indicate that she should turn around to show him the rear view.

Fleur obeyed, standing still as he trailed one fingertip along the top of her shoulder, from arm to neck, then slowly down her spine. It tickled, but she willed herself not to move. He reached the base of her spine and continued on, down the furrow between her buttocks until he reached the tight little hole of her anus.

“Shall we have a little biology lesson, submissive style? Bend over, please. If you need to rest your hands on the table, that’s all right.”

Fleur’s pussy clenched violently. It was starting. He was starting. Now. She had to move slightly to be able to place her hands easily on the table that pressed her bottom more fully into Ethan’s hands. It felt strangely nice. She had no qualms about doing as he asked, assuming the position and even spreading her legs before he asked her to.

“That’s good anticipation. Be careful, though. Usually, I’ll tell you exactly what I want. Can you open your legs even wider, please?”

Fleur complied and was rewarded with a long, open-handed stroke across her pussy, from clit to anus. Despite her anxiety, she groaned aloud.

“When I refer to your cunt, I mean all of this. I’m not being specific. Pussy means the same. I’ll use both words a lot. What would you call it?”

She thought for a moment, searching for the correct medical terms and translating those into English. Or was that Latin? She wasn’t sure. “I would say vulva, Sir. Or labia majora. Labia minora. Perineum. Vagina.”

“Ah, yes, very clinical.”

“But I do know pussy, Sir.”

“Excellent. We’ll be talking about your pussy and your cunt. Which includes here, too.” He slipped one long finger inside her, sliding easily through her entrance to bury the digit deep. He thrust twice before withdrawing to trace the outer lips on either side of her opening.

“Pussy lips. Clit?” He slid his finger forward to rub the swelling nub.

Fleur gulped, struggling now to hold still. “Yes, Sir, my clitoris. Clit. I am familiar with that word too.”

“You’ll be more familiar with it soon, sweetheart. You’ll come to know it intimately.” He swirled the pad of his finger lazily across the tip of her clit before working his way backwards to her circle her anus again.

“And here?”

“My, my anus. Sir. Oh!” Fleur jumped as Ethan slipped the tip of his exploring finger inside, now lubricated from his brief foray into her pussy.

“Arse to us, love. Do you like this?” He rotated his finger slowly, pressing gently to ease it past her sphincter.

“I am really not sure, Sir.” Then, as an afterthought, “It does not hurt.”

“It’s not meant to. I will hurt you, a little perhaps, but not by accident. And not now. I intend to be very, very gentle with your arse, when I fuck you here.”

Whether her unsteadiness was caused by his words or his actions, she had no idea. Fleur only knew she stumbled forward as her knees threatened to give way. Ethan slipped an arm around her waist quickly, holding her in position. His finger sank deeper inside her arse.

“Are you all right, Fleur?”

“I… I think I am, Sir. It is difficult to remain on my feet, though, while you do…that.”

“While I finger-fuck your arse? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, Sir. Oh…” She ground out the words as he withdrew his finger then plunged it back inside, hard.

“Did that hurt?”

“No, Sir.” She braced her hands more firmly on the low tabletop, closing her eyes as his firm, rhythmic movements in her anus focused her attention totally. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting down hard in her concentration.

Ethan continued to support her, taking most of her weight, she realised, as he thrust his finger in and out of her now unresisting arse. It felt good—incredibly good, in fact. Intimately wicked. This was in essence only the same thing he had done to her yesterday, but it felt different, more intense. And this time, she knew he would not stop at just a finger.

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  1. Red Skye at Night

Two strangers, one outrageous proposal, and the journey of a lifetime.

How far would you go? To Skye and back?

A random accident as a teenager wrecked Hope Shepherd’s aspirations to be an international athlete. Now working as a taxi driver, Hope is unsettled by a sexy Canadian she picks up at the airport. With his good looks and easy charm, he’s just the sort of man she can do without. But can she afford to turn down his offer?

He offers her a small fortune to drive him to Scotland, where he hopes to discover his ancestral roots. And not just anywhere in Scotland. Harry McLeod wants to go to the Highlands, to the Isle of Skye.

He is persistent, and Hope needs the cash. But what are the real terms of this outrageous deal?

Harry McLeod desires Hope, and the attraction is shared. If he can get her in his bed—or better still, tied to it—will she allow him to peel away her protective layers to release her inner submissive? Harry is stern, uncompromising, outrageously sexy and utterly irresistible. How will Hope respond to his dark brand of sensuality? Does he offer more than a generous fare and a few erotic encounters?

When they reach Skye, a feud spanning four generations challenges all that Hope thought she was coming to know about submission. Will it be enough to convince her that this could be a relationship to stand the test of time?

 

I stand back to watch as Harry leans over the green baize, lines up his cue and fires the white down the table. It connects with the pink, the sound crisp and satisfying. The pink ricochets away and drops neatly into the pocket at the bottom corner. Harry retrieves and re-spots the white ball, then repeats the exercise with the black ball.

“Show-off.”

“You asked for a demonstration, and you got one.” I muttered the words, but he heard me. “Now unless you want me to demonstrate a lesson in submissive good manners, I suggest you try to do the same thing. Come and stand here.”

I stand beside him at the end of the table. He hands me his cue, freshly chalked again. “I’ll re-spot the balls for you after your shots. You lean over and see if you can reach.”

I nod, and stretch myself as far as I can along the felt top. I’m still a good foot or more short of being able to connect with the white ball. Harry obligingly moves it back a few inches, to just about on the edge of my range. It still seems like an unequal contest to me, but I know better than to argue.

“The pink ball first, right?”

“Right, but first would you lift your skirt up around your waist?”

He’s ultra-polite, as ever, but I knew this was coming, or something of the like. Why else are my panties stuffed in my case? I lay my cue on the table and reach back to hitch up the fabric of my skirt.

“A little higher, please. Perhaps you could bunch it up under your stomach. I want to be able to see all of that pretty ass of yours.”

“Is this all right, Sir?” I wriggle a little to shove the material under me, and peer back over my shoulder for approval. Harry is standing behind me, surveying my bum displayed for his amusement. And mine, I guess.

“Perfect. Now take the shot, please.”

I pick up the cue again and line up my shot. “Don’t tell me, if I miss you’ll swat my butt cheeks with the cue.”

“Of course not, I might injure you. If you miss, I’ll insert an ice cube into your pussy. The next time you miss, you take one in your arse. And so it goes on, pussy, arse, pussy, arse, until I run out of ice, or you manage to pot a ball. I wonder which will be sooner?”

His casual tone does nothing to lessen the impact of his words, the sheer eroticism of his intent. My pussy is spasming wildly, already indecently damp just from his interested perusal from his vantage point behind me. There’s a faint clink as he sips water from his glass, reminding me that he has the ice readily to hand.

I line up the cue again, but this time the tip is anything but steady. I draw several deep breaths. Even though I know the outcome is pretty much inevitable, I can but try.

I take the shot and to be fair, it’s not a bad effort. The pink ball bounces off the cushion about an inch from the pocket. It might as well have been a mile off. I let my forehead drop onto the green felt.

“Ah, you missed. I guess we’ll be needing an ice cube then.” He steps forward, the front of his trousers brushing my bum and the backs of my legs. He places the glass beside my shoulder on the table. I turn my head to watch him fish out a glistening cube of ice. He pushes it into the furrow between my buttocks.

“Hold that for me, please. I just need to part the lips of your cunt ready for this.”

I manage to hold still while he uses his fingers to spread my labia wide, then he inserts just the tips of his index and middle fingers into my entrance and spreads them to open me. He picks up the ice cube with his other hand and pushes it slowly into me. He leaves it lodged between my pussy lips as I lie there, shivering helplessly.

“Christ, Sir, that’s cold.” I’m almost whimpering, though it’s not painful exactly. It’s more a combination of shock at the freezing temperature, and humiliation that my cunt is spread open, the lips held apart by the ice.

“You need to concentrate then and hope you don’t miss next time, or it’ll get a whole lot colder. Are you ready to go again?” His attitude is light, conversational, but I know he’s every inch the Dom in this moment. His focus is entirely on me, his concentration intent as he scrapes his fingernails across my buttocks.

I reach for the cue as Harry lands over me to re-spot the white ball. I close my eyes, striving for the clarity of thought I’ll need for this. Harry does not help, idly caressing my bum as I take aim. He has the decency to keep his hand still as I take the shot, but still the black ball ricochets across the table to come to rest against the cushion opposite me.

Harry pats my bum, the touch playful. He places his glass of iced water back on the table. “The ice is starting to melt, so strictly speaking we could probably manage without lube. It might help matters, though. Would you like me to open you up a little first or are we just going for it?”

No reasonable offer of help ever refused. That’s my motto. And in any case, this bit should be fun. I think. “Would you prepare me first, please? And with lube, if you don’t mind, Sir?”

“My, my, how polite you are. How perfectly submissive.” There’s a soft slurp as he squirts lube onto his fingers.

Even though I’m expecting it, and the stuff is nowhere near as cold as the ice in my pussy, I still jerk when he smears it around my anus.

“Keep still, Hope.” A hand in the small of my back reminds me that he’s totally in control here—as if I could doubt that. I manage to lie motionless while he works the lube into my arsehole, slipping the tip of his finger in to smooth it around the rim.

“Would you like me to go a little deeper, just for good measure? Your aim does seem to be a little unreliable, you may well end up with quite a lot of ice in here.”

 

 

 

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