D/s

Release Date Set!

/ Jaye Elise / 6 Comments

Mmmm…damn. I put one of those hot button words in the title, didn’t I? Well, it was worth it! 

I just found out the release date for my next novel! On April 18, Sentenced to the Doctor will be published and live, and I can’t wait to share it with you! Although, I also admit to being a little nervous, too. 

Not only will this will be my first publication in seven years, but it’s also a little bit of a departure for me. Oh, fear not, there’s a feisty heroine, a firm-handed hero, and plenty of D/s goodness to constitute a great one-handed read. But Sentenced to the Doctor also layers in some futuristic/post-apocalyptic elements that are new to me. I’ll be interested to hear what you think!

I’ll include a blurb below, and I’ll be sure to share some teasers and excerpts over the coming weeks!

Hundreds of years in the future, in the repressive, post-nuclear Republic of New Cascadia, Leila Jones, a defiant foot soldier in the resistance and a closet submissive, is on a one-woman mission to fight the system any way she can. When she gets caught defiling a public building, her third offense, she’s remanded to a state-sanctioned Reprogramming Facility. Her sentence is three months in The Chair, a device designed to pleasure convicted criminals into making the right choices.

Dr. Jens Kelly, a counselor at Reprogramming Facility 629 and a man with secrets, is determined to guide and support all the prisoners with whom he works. When he comes up against Leila and her willful noncompliance, he’s going to have to tap into his dominant nature, some good old-fashioned spankings, and all of the naughty devices embedded in the Chair to give her the correction she needs.

But as they begin to fall in love, will they be able to trust each other long enough in order to escape the grasp of The Republic?

A Little D/s Vignette

/ Jaye Elise / 5 Comments

Thank you to nora, Jon Grey, and Dark Tingles (from Bluesky) for contributing their hot button words in the comments of one of my recent posts. As promised, I’ve written a naughty little D/s vignette that incorporates our chosen words. I hope everyone enjoys! 

The blindfold heightened her senses in ways she hadn’t anticipated. 

The clean, neroli scent of his soap blended with the fresh sweetness of the rain that pattered against the open window and splashed onto the sill. The sound of her own heart beating kept time with his soft footfalls as he circled her naked form. Her knees ached against the hardwood floor as her nipples tightened, aroused by the delicious bite of pain. The thick plug throbbed in her ass, training her for the illicit pleasures he’d alluded to in their correspondence.

“Why have you come here today? What do you seek?” His voice rang out, clear and strong, startling her from her reverie.

“I come to serve you, Sir. I seek to please you.”

“Mmhmm. I see.” His footsteps stopped in front of her and she instinctively corrected her posture. “And what is it that you’re offering me?”

“I offer my submission, Sir.”

“Your submission in exchange for what?” His voice was closer now, his breath warm on her neck as he poured his question into her mind.

“I-I don’t know, Sir,” she whimpered, afraid to disappoint him.

“Allow me to help you then, little one. You are offering me your submission in exchange for my dominance. Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it?” She nodded as he brushed his knuckles across her taut nipple. “Use your words,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sir, it sounds simple enough.”

“Good girl.” His praise washed over her, bathing her in soothing warmth. “And yes, to submit is simple, but it’s by no means easy. I’ll be providing you with discipline unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Dominance and discipline that will require every last ounce of your submission to endure and retain. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” she stammered as the arousal seeped from her exposed pussy.

“And is this what you truly want?” His finger trailed up her collarbone, across the pulse point along her neck, and settled under her chin, tilting her blindfolded face upwards.

“Yes, Sir. With everything I am, Sir,” she replied.

“Then you shall have it, little one.” He paused. “But be careful what you wish for.” His sinister laugh shot through her veins like ice water. 

The blindfold may have concealed the windows to her soul, but she’d been laid bare before him. There was no turning back. 

She was now owned.

In Praise of Older Men

/ Jaye Elise / 1 Comment

Throughout my adult life, I’ve always found myself attracted to older men. Sometimes older by a couple of years…and sometimes a couple of decades. While not always true, it’s generally been my experience that older men—especially more dominant men—are in possession of more knowledge, self-control, gravitas, patience, and perspective. And I can’t get enough of these qualities.

Mr. Elise is a bit older than yours truly. In fact, it’s one of the first things that attracted me to him. I was in a frenetic period in my life, and he provided balance, perspective, and care. He gave me the space to forge my own path while equipping me with structure and guidance. The attraction was irresistible.

Of course, it can be easy to over-romanticize our older gentlemen. After all, not every silver fox has a heart of gold. But for what it’s worth, I’d choose my older man again in a heartbeat. 

Hot Button Words

/ Jaye Elise / 7 Comments

Does any one else have a word that triggers their kink-dar? I’m talking about those normal yet sneaky, seductive words that form part of everyday conversations at work or with friends, and when somebody uses one…wow. You’re squirming in your seat, adjusting yourself under the table, and thinking all manner of lascivious thoughts. 

You know the words I’m talking about, don’t you? 

Okay, in the interest of pulling back the curtain a bit, I’ll go ahead and share one of mine with you… Training.

Seems harmless enough, right? 

Well, maybe it was harmless until it entered my twisted little mind and burrowed its way into my submissive soul.

A Dom training a new submissive to give and receive pleasure, to perfect new positions, to adopt new practices, to come alive in the beauty of the gift that is their submission.

That same Dom training his submissive’s cute little ass to take his cock. 

A submissive training their mind to be still in the face of challenges and to look to their Dominant for comfort and reassurance.

Is it getting warm in here?? 🥵

What are the words that ping your kink-dar? Please share in the comments, if you’re comfortable doing so – I’d love to weave these into a decidedly non-vanilla story for all of us to share!

Doms need TLC, too!

/ Jaye Elise / 1 Comment

Following up on my piece on truthiness in erotica, I wanted to touch on the fallacy of the “Dom as cool, calm, collected, and in control at all times” notion. 

As someone with (ahem) submissive leanings, I would love to believe that Doms inherently know all the right things to do, say, and share at any given moment. Of course they do, right??

For example, I sleep better at night without worrying about the things that Mr. Elise has placed outside of my control. But even he catches the occasional man cold or gets stressed about work. He’s human.

And the Doms in my novels)? They’re seasoned (and devilishly handsome) experts at tuning into the needs of the women in their lives. But even they struggle with their own anxieties and shortcomings—agoraphobia, PTSD, navigating loss, etc. They’re human…well, kinda sorta.

The point is that occasionally Doms, just like the subs that adore and serve them, need some TLC, grace, and special attention. As Mr. Elise often reminds me, “We take care of each other, just in different ways.” 

So whether it’s a case of Domdrop, anxiety, frustration, stress, or something altogether different, it’s vital to find a way to tune into their needs, to meet them where they are, and to forge a path forward.

After all, they’re human.

Verisimilitudinous Kink

/ Jaye Elise / 5 Comments

So, if you made it past the title and are now reading this, thank you for hanging in there! Despite what you might think, one of my kinks isn’t using big words…although I am an unabashedly hardcore sapiosexual. 😉 

For those of you who don’t know and aren’t in the mood to waste a browser tab on looking it up (and I don’t blame you one bit), “verisimilitudinous” means having the appearance of being true or believable. It’s truthiness. 

I won’t speak for other BDSM, D/s, fetish, and/or erotica authors here, but from my own experience, I find that I skirt a razor’s edge of verisimilitude every time I sit down to write. 

I have to capture how the characters navigate their world, making sure that it’s sexy, yet focused enough to drive the plot. 

I have to describe intense scenes of power exchange, Dominance and submission, unorthodox practices, and sexual delights and torments that, in some cases, don’t even exist while capturing the very real emotional struggles and growth that come with these exchanges.

I have to draw from personal experience, when possible, while also making sure to not share too much.

The best kind of kink, for my money, is the verisimilitudinous kind. The kind that gives you just enough reality to suspend disbelief on some of the more far-fetched fantasy. The kind that pulls you into its world and holds you captive with curiosity, desire, and longing for what the characters are experiencing. The kind that sinks its teeth into your core and doesn’t let go until it’s through with you.

But for those of us who write erotic fiction, verisimilitudinous kink can be a liability. Where does the fantasy end and reality begin? How can you reconcile the extreme practices of some of your characters within the bounds of safe, sane, and consensual? 

And, most importantly, how to write this truth-y fiction without baring your soul to the entire world? 

There Should Be No Should

/ Jaye Elise / 7 Comments

I’ve written elsewhere about the notion of the word “should.” It’s an insidious little word that sneaks its way into conversations all too easily and to great detriment to all. 

Are you sure you should do that?

Maybe you should try taking things slower/faster/a different way…

Even though this feels good, I shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t need it, shouldn’t crave it.

We’ve all said it; we’ve all heard it. And it never feels good. “Should” implies judgement of ourselves and others. Why bind ourselves to narrow, externally imposed constructs of what “should” be right, “should” be acceptable, “should” be pleasurable? (Unless, of course, being bound is what you like…) 😉

And specifically, within the context of the BDSM, D/s, and other power exchange communities—provided you’re engaged in safe, sane, consensual practices—there should be no should.

I encourage us all to critically examine* our use of the word “should” and adapt accordingly.

* You know, I really shouldn’t split an infinitive like that. 😉

(Here’s a link to the song I reference in the image above, in case you’d like to have a listen.)

Undivided Attention

/ Jaye Elise / 4 Comments

“Eyes on me.” 

There are few things that bring a submissive to rapt attention faster than these three words. Ahhh, delicious, deviant, decadent attention.

And eye contact is vital, yes, but it’s so much more.

It’s establishing deep focus on the Dominant and placing yourself in their hands. It’s silencing external stimuli and establishing a cocoon of safety and trust within which you explore together. It’s recognizing the fundamental power in your submission and entrusting your body, mind, and soul to the Dominant. 

It’s the D/s power exchange distilled into its purest essence with three seemingly innocent words. Although, as powerful as these words and the implied exchange are, I’ve been noticing of late that there is another layer I’d not explored.

We live in a world in which our attention is parceled into seconds-long snippets, with clicks, likes, clips, vids, and other quick hits of social dopamine vying for our limited attention spans. There’s also the focus demanded of us by our careers, families, and friends…by our artistic and extracurricular pursuits…by the increasingly polarized and unsettling news cycle and state of current affairs…and I could go on. 

But for the briefest of moments – and for however long he commands it – “eyes on me” is a reminder that you’re in service of a higher purpose, one that demands your full attention. 

And I’m hard pressed to find many things sexier than that. 

A little treat…

/ Jaye Elise / 4 Comments
A man in a suit holds a bound woman across his lap in preparation for a spanking

Motivation is a vital factor when it comes to so many aspects of our lives. 

Dragging yourself out of bed before dawn to go work out. Filing your taxes. Dealing with the piles of laundry that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Buckling down and putting pen to paper on a new book idea. Submitting to the will of another and placing yourself entirely in their hands. 

The common denominator here is motivation. And finding the right motivation at the right time for the right person…that’s truly sublime. 

In my particular case, motivation comes in the form of little treats. And Mr. Elise understands this implicitly. After spending the better part of the last two weeks hammering out my newest erotica work in progress, I put the final period on my first draft last night. 

And I think I deserve a little treat.

But I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. 😉

Obeying Him: A Wicked Daddy-Inspired Story

/ Jaye Elise / 1 Comment

Glass Rods, 2Hello all!

For those of you who’ve followed my blog for a bit, you’ll have heard of my dear friend, Wicked Daddy. You may also have had an opportunity to read some of my sexy stories inspired by his amazing, naughty toys! Well, WD had a bit of a health scare over the weekend and is under doctor’s orders to take it easy and to make some time for relaxation. And, in my mind, what better way to relax than with a bit of smut, right?? 😉 *insert fiendish laugh here*

This story is slightly different than my typical writing and I’m curious to hear what you think of it. Feel free to drop me a line when you’ve got a moment.

Now, without further ado, this one’s for you, Wicked Daddy! Rest up and enjoy!

I want you to hold this for me, little one.

When he’d whispered the words in my ear just over an hour ago, it had seemed such an innocent request. And when he extended the nine-inch clear glass rod in my direction, my instinct was to reach out my hand. But my instinct was wrong…and I quickly found out exactly how wrong I was.

Now—face down, ass up on his bed—as he buries the greased rod snugly in my bottom, twisting and pumping it firmly into my most private hole, it occurs to me that Daddy isn’t entirely devoid of a sense of humor. Because not only does he want me to hold it for him, but his expectation is that I maintain control of the rod for a full hour without letting it fall to the mattress beneath me.

This is a game for him—for us­—a test of wills he will inevitably win. He always does. But, oh, how he loves to give me the illusion of having a fighting chance.

As my tight ass clenches around the rod, appreciating its weight and depth, I soon realize that each nervous twitch, each shift in position, and each errant suckle engages my internal muscles and surrenders a fraction of the smooth probe from the sheath of my body, getting ever closer to failure. And despite the sheen of perspiration cooling across my exposed back, I know that only about ten minutes have passed since we started. It’s far too soon to admit defeat, far too soon to lose this challenge.

I’d hate to disappoint Daddy.

Unfortunately, there’s no way for me to be sure how much time has gone by. Determined to deny me any comfort in this scenario, he’s removed my watch and unplugged the alarm clock. The countdown is entirely in his hands. He could keep me like this for hours, if that were his preference. The thrilled frisson of arousal from this little mindfuck forces an inch of the rod out of me. I need to relax if I have any chance of enduring this exquisite dilemma for the full hour.

Although I can’t turn around to meet his eyes, I feel his gaze caressing my backside, searing me with his intensity. Occasionally, he whispers words of encouragement, sotto voce good girls that course through my body, tightening up my core and threatening to dislodge the smooth, well-oiled glass toy he’s placed there for his pleasure.

Judging by his soft footfalls, the distance of his voice, and the clicking of his thumbnail against the ridges of a crystal tumbler, he’s poured himself a drink and has taken up position in the plush seat in the corner. Daddy is determined to enjoy the show. This is one instance in which I’m actually happy I’m pinned in place, this time by precarious predicament as opposed to the rigid restraints he typically favors. We both know that if I were able to sneak a glimpse of him, I’d inevitably see the smooth black cane perched across his thighs, my inevitable punishment for failure laid out in the starkest terms possible. The full body shudder I’d undoubtedly experience would send the rod plummeting to the mattress and the biting penance would commence.

Determined to give him the obedience he deserves, I focus on my surroundings in an attempt to relax and to will the rod to stay right where he put it. After a deep, cleansing breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, limiting my senses and eliminating any excess stimuli. With my face pressed into the bed, the fresh smell of the crisp sheets blends with the comforting scent of his single malt scotch wafting from across the room. The cool air crisscrossing my exposed flesh and pussy is a welcome reprieve from the heat emanating from my core. A soft groan and the sound of his hand brushing across the fabric of his pants tells me this little game we’re playing is making him hard. That telling insight steels my resolve and my tight little asshole clutches the rod as firmly as I can.

It is from within this complex, seductive miasma of submissive bliss and struggle that I come to the ultimate realization about Daddy. And about myself.

There are no winners or losers in this battle, only dominance and submission in their purest forms. If I last the hour, I will have obeyed Daddy’s command, made him proud, and—if he’s feeling generous—earned a soul-penetrating orgasm. However, if I allow the rod to drop, I will have disobeyed him, disappointed him, and will have earned the punishment I know he’s desperate to give me.

But either way, I have the power in this situation. Daddy has entrusted his little one to do what needs to be done—to give myself the experience I need—thereby providing him the opportunity to exert his dominance in the way my submission demands. What once seemed the illusion of choice is now the empowering knowledge that I am the only one who can balance our dynamic, the only one who holds the key to who we are when we’re at our best. And the hard, unyielding, yet comforting toy he’s buried in my ass is a tangible reminder of everything we share.

With a final sigh and a conscious disregard for the clock ticking its way toward the hour mark, I stop struggling to hold the rod. If it falls, it falls. If it stays, it stays. One way or another, I’m going to give him the submission he needs from me.

And as the glass slides its way out of my slightly stretched bottom, inch by smooth inch, and I hear the light tsk tsks from my Daddy, I can’t be bothered to hide the smile creeping its way across my lips.

Because I’m submissive. And I’m all his.

Glass Rods, 1