Welcome to The Novice Christmas Chapter Tour. This is a very special tour as over twelve days the

About Sexy as Hell – Sexy as Hell is an erotic trilogy that will submerge you into the black heart of a world of bondage and discipline, Dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.

Dare to take this twisting journey with Victor and you’ll learn the ropes with him, experience every carnal sensation and fall into a dark and dangerous love that grips like a fist and binds like a collar.

Get to know Zara, his sultry teacher, and you’ll gasp when she doles out her sinful instructions but then delight in the stunning results she not only demands but achieves. It seems Heaven and Hell are not so far apart when she holds the reins.

Victor has his layers peeled back, but when he does the same to try to get to his Vixen’s core, a revelation appears. Because Zara is a woman whose vast sexual experience is both her strength and her weakness; she can inflict pain and pleasure, make lusty demands and instruct, but she needs so much more, she needs…

Yes, the time has come to for her to admit to her needs and confess to the repairing her soul hungers for. A sea of memories, a lifetime of control requires an acknowledgement that will cut through her barriers, and there’s only one man up for the job—her novice, her student, her newly trained monster, Victor Partridge.

Please note, in order to enjoy Victor and Zara’s adventures, the trilogy must be read in order.

The Novice is the first book, the second The Player and finally The Vixen. Here is the back cover information for The Novice.

London – one meeting, one month of lessons and a landslide of depraved new desires.

My journey to hell started with a decaff coffee. Nothing more than a grey mug full of dull-brown liquid devoid of its most useful ingredient.

One sip, one smile, one touch of her hand and it was soon clear my life wasn’t destined to stay dull. Oh, no, suddenly I had a month of bedroom education planned by a sultry vixen who intended to broaden my horizons beyond my usual peach-pink palette. 

She wanted to take me to deep purples and navy blues and the pitch blackness that was pure sin. And on the other side of that blackness was a place that might look like Hell, with debauchery and wantonness, people playing devil’s advocate, luring innocents into the hotter, steamier corners of the world.

Her world.

Oh, yes, she promised each night to take me there and paint me an orange-and-red picture that would come alive, flickering like flames, enticing me, holding me spellbound and eager to learn more. To touch, explore, drown in coming.

And drown I would. I was no match for her tricks and taunts. My only chance of survival was to show her that I was no vanilla virgin. I had a rainbow of mastery up my sleeve, too, and if she just opened her eyes, she might be dazzled enough to stay—stay and take ‘my’ lessons. If she didn’t kill me first, that was, with pleasure.

* * * * *

So what are people saying about the Sexy as Hell Trilogy? I’m pleased to report that it’s all good, no, more than good. This trilogy has been described on Amazon as “far better than the 50 Shades of Grey”, one reader said, “I’ve read many erotic novels and BDSM books but these ones are by far my favourites.” another stated, “I was looking to be titillated yes, but instead was captured by the story of Zara and Victor.” You can read all the glowing reviews on the Harlem Dae website, plus read the FREE Harlem Dae magazine with all the inside gossip about the Sexy as Hell Trilogy and what it was like for two authors writing nearly 300k together and how their characters inspired them to keep on writing.

So finally, with just a last warning that this story is boundary pushing, hot, edgy and dark and not for those of a delicate disposition. It’s BDSM primarily but has a slow burn romance that tips everything on its head as feelings intensify and souls are bared.

Links

Tour Information/Where to find all the chapters – http://www.harlemdae.com/p/sexy-as-hell-on-tour.html

Harlem Dae Website – http://www.harlemdae.com

The Novice – Amazon

                       Amazon UK

The Player – Amazon –

                     Amazon UK

The Vixen – Amazon

                    Amazon UK   

I didn’t feel entirely comfortable handing my precious Porsche keys over to Carlos. A big brute of a man, Spanish if I was correct in placing his accent. But what choice did I have? I had to go with Zara and watch her show.

Luckily Zara seemed to have a bond with Carlos, and I could only hope, because he seemed enraptured by her, he’d look after my car.

If all else failed, the damn thing was insured. It would just be difficult to explain the unusual venue for the valet parking.

Inside the club, I shifted my bum on the same bucket seat I’d sat in the night before. The one Zara had given me my first blowjob in. The wide window to the showroom was in blackness, and alone in the small room, all I could hear was the sound of my breathing and the friction of the skin on my palms as I rubbed my hands together.

My mind was in overdrive. She’d given nothing away about the theme of her show on the way here, other than she wouldn’t be whipping herself into a frenzy. But the look the red-haired girl at reception had given me made me nervous. More nervous than last night. She’d studied me like I was prey—prey who’d been hunted, captured and was about to be devoured.

Suddenly the curtains opened and the lights in the room came on. As opposed to the stark whiteness of the flagellating show, now the lighting was a subdued scarlet. Dark shadows stretched over the floor and against the wall opposite.

My attention, however, didn’t linger on the aesthetics of the hues, because standing in the middle of the room, wearing black leather hot-pants, a blood-red corset and the same thigh-length boots she’d travelled to work in, was Zara.

Her ponytail swung as she turned to face me. She raised her left hand, pressed a kiss to her palm and blew it my way.

Fuck, my cock was bloating by the second. I couldn’t deny she was bloody gorgeous. Like no woman I’d seen before, not least because she had the sole of her right foot pressed onto a man’s back. The heel was creating quite a dent in his flesh, visible even from where I sat. It must be painful.

He was on the floor, on hands and knees, head hanging down, black hood over his face. He was naked, and I could see that his cock was turgid and straining towards his belly.

The guy was big—his muscles had that over-worked, pumped quality to them—and his olive-skinned back was thick and wide. I noticed a trail of dark hairs in the cleft of his arse. The same coating covered his thighs, calves and forearms.

It was then I spotted what Zara had in her other hand. A whip. But not a long, cowboy-style one, it was short and had several strands, more like a flogger, I supposed. Damn, she’d said she wasn’t going to…

She cracked it down on her leg, the one hoisted up. I flinched at the sharp snapping sound of leather on leather. So did the man. His cock bobbed.

Zara’s lips tightened, giving her face a stern, determined, don’t-fuck-with-me look. She removed her foot and walked around the form on the floor, studying him like one would eye something they were thinking of purchasing.

Her long legs were elegant and slim, the boots as sexy as I’d ever seen a pair of footwear. A sudden image of her thighs wrapped around my hips, while she was wearing those boots, besieged me. The material would be cool, sort of slippery but maybe not once it was laced with sweat. As I pumped into her they’d cling to my skin, tug, squeak. Maybe the sharp silver heels would catch my buttocks, prod me, urge me on.

God, I was at full hardness now. The same as the man on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable in jeans.

His physical form was twice that of Zara’s frame, yet he was cowering down, unmoving, his body tense as though he was unsure of what she would do to him next.

She traced the strands of the flogger down his back.

He trembled.

A tingle ran over my spine.

With a sudden flick of her wrist, the strands whipped his right buttock. He made no sound, but the forward flinch of his entire body told me it had hurt.

Damn it, my own buttock smarted and I clenched my arse cheeks, raising them slightly off the chair.

Why would he let her hit him like that?

I leant forward, spying a drop of pre-cum on the end of his cock. It hadn’t been there before. Fuck, my prick was so bloody hard, straining against the tight denim of my jeans. The tingle in my spine and the heat in my buttocks were racing to my dick, enlarging it, engorging it.

Why the hell was I turned on by this crazy shit?

Zara moved, so her back was to me, and walked over to a silver trolley heavy with implements I had no definite names for. The hot-pants were so tight, so short they travelled up the gulley of her crotch and exposed the entire bottom third of her bum cheeks. Her inner thighs didn’t touch—even right up to her cunt her legs were a half inch apart.

I clenched my fists, blew out a long, slow breath. The criss-crossed lace of the corset hung down a few inches, swaying like a short tail, matching the swish of her sleek hair.

She spun, looked directly at me and held up a long, black, tapered dildo, the end shiny, as though greased. For a moment she didn’t move, just stared at me, quizzically, as if curious to see my reaction.

I kept my face neutral, my lips pressed together and chin tilted. I couldn’t deny the thought of watching her use a dildo on herself didn’t turn me on. It did, a lot. Especially when I was sitting in here, in safety, and nothing was required of me but to watch and enjoy. Feast on her spectacle and see how she made herself come. Maybe it would give me some tips for the future—if I decided to fuck her, that was.

She tilted one side of her mouth, as though she’d read my thoughts. But of course she hadn’t. How could she?

Her attention left me and she wandered over to her plaything. With slow, teasing strokes, she swept the flogger down his back several times. He was shaking slightly, his right buttock now burnt red from the swipe she’d given him.

Suddenly she treated the left buttock to the same hard whack. Again I jumped—it seemed as though I was rushing to imagine the sensation, the skin on my bum tingling and warm.

His head snapped up, and he drew one hand, though pressed onto the floor, into a fist.

That had hurt. Zara had put all her strength into the blow, and with what, about nine, ten, tails to strike his flesh, it was a lot of strips of agony to cope with.

But now she was squatting behind him, smoothing a palm over the blushed buttocks. Caressing sweeps of her hand rubbing away the pain. He shoved backwards onto her touch and hung his head low. She manoeuvred him slightly so his arse was angled directly towards my window.

I nibbled my bottom lip, tried to create a little more space for my cock by shifting the crotch of my jeans.

Zara handled this big brute like he was an object, a slave, something to toy with.

Why was he allowing it?

Getting paid, I supposed. To be in the show. No wonder he wore a hood; he must be mortified that a slip of a girl could beat him and keep him on his hands and knees.

I let out a shaky breath. Wondered why the thought of being in his position made my stomach clench and my bollocks retract. It wasn’t like I would ever be kneeling before her, bare-arsed and submissive.

I shoved my hand through my hair; my brow was a little sweaty. When would Zara get those hot-pants off and put the dildo to good use? Would she make her victim pleasure her?

A glut of something scarily like jealousy filled my stomach. I didn’t want this big, hooded man to touch her. Okay, so she wasn’t mine, but still. This thing, whatever it was, was something we were doing together. She’d asked me to be exclusive to her for a month—surely it worked both ways.

I rubbed my hand down my cheek, stubble scratching my palm. My breath caught in my throat, and if my arse cheeks had been clenched before, now they were tight enough to crush a beer can.

Fucking hell.

Because the dildo, it seemed, wasn’t for Zara’s pussy, it was for Hooded Man’s arse.

I hadn’t seen that coming.

Zara was moving the black tip around the outside of his puckered hole. I was sure I had the best view in the house, if that’s what you could call seeing another bloke’s arsehole buggered—not really my thing.

The first inch of the dildo disappeared as she stretched him open and then she began to move it in and out. I could make out every expansion and contraction, see his balls quivering, his body tensing.

Oh, God, my bollocks were boiling and my arsehole had clamped tighter. Zara was sliding the long dildo—or was it a butt plug?—almost out and then back in a little further each time. Her fingers, with long red nails, held it firm and steady, and her other hand, still soothing his buttock, stretched the curve of skin to improve her and my view of the penetration.

I stared at the scene. His head was still hanging down. I couldn’t make out his cock now but every muscle in his body appeared tense, his ribs expanding and deflating as he took short, sharp breaths.

Zara was fucking him with the toy, going so deep now it practically disappeared from view on each slide inwards. He was rocking forwards and backwards, his rhythm matching hers, clearly enjoying being touched deep inside.

I blinked, several times, my eyeballs dry. I’d been staring wide-eyed. What must be going through his mind, allowing a woman into his arse like that? He was obviously comfortable with it, though—more than comfortable, he was having a great time.

Shit, I was so hard. I needed to stroke my cock, yank out a quick climax so I’d feel calmer.

Fleetingly I considered masturbating but pushed that idea away and kept my hands firmly gripping the arms of the chair. I wouldn’t get off watching a bloke being so rudely handled by Zara—that was just too fucking weird.

Zara stood, leaving the plug in place. It was barely visible. Just a strip of black that prevented it from disappearing entirely into his body and sat against the groove of his arse cheeks.

She re-claimed the flogger, stooped then grabbed his hood in her fist, raising his still-covered face.

“You’re mine,” she said. Her voice was a little tinny through the slats above the window, but the force behind her statement hadn’t been weakened. She’d said it with absolute conviction, her tone harsh, possessive. “All mine.”

He didn’t move. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Kiss my fucking feet.” She released his head, and he dropped instantly to lavish the long, pointed toes of her boots with kisses and licks through the mouth slit of the hood.

“Jesus, he’s got it bad,” I muttered. “Prick.”

“Now get up.” Zara stepped back, leaving the man with his pink tongue peeking through the mouth hole.

Again he didn’t move.

She whacked the flogger against her leg in a menacing, impatient way. He remained on his hands and knees, as though stunned that she’d given him so little time to adore her feet.

She brought the flogger down, this time on his shoulder. Hard.

He scrabbled to his feet, his thick cock a deep mauve, the veins standing proud. The bead of pre-cum had transferred to his abdomen, sitting tackily in his dark belly hairs.

I squirmed, wishing my own erection wasn’t having to suffer the pain of being encased.

Zara turned him to face me, directly, and caught my gaze. Again I tilted my chin, wore my best passive, nonchalant expression. This wasn’t getting to me. She wasn’t teaching me anything new.

She copied me, her slender neck regal, her movements precise as she stepped behind her hooded slave. Reaching for his arms, she crossed them in front of his body, encasing him in her long-limbed embrace. She tucked in tight to his back and pressed her lips to his hood, right next to his ear, her heels making her tall enough to do this and certainly able to continue staring at me.

Not once did she break our eye contact; she barely blinked, neither did I.

It took a great deal of effort not to stare at the aroused man before me. I’d never actually seen a bloke so hard, or, if I was honest, with such a bloody big dick.

But I managed not to. I returned Zara’s gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice that damn muscle flickering in my cheek again.

She began to whisper. Soft words that didn’t make it through the window slats. Just a constant little drone of seduction straight into the ear of her captive.

Damn.

What was she saying?

When I looked at her again, she’d shut her eyes, blocked me out. It was just her and him now. I could almost see him folding into her arms, his thick, meaty shoulders resting against her, his body melting backwards.

I finally allowed my gaze to travel his body. His feet were hip width apart, his knees locked as if he needed that security to stay standing. His cock was twitching, the slit pointing directly at me. He was fully erect, almost bursting with blood. The sight was quite shocking.

Still she kept on whispering, her red lips grazing the black hood, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

I shoved at my groin, hoping a bit of manhandling would reduce my hard-on.

It didn’t.

He was trembling now, his skin shiny with sweat. He’d dug his fingers tight into his biceps. Zara kept her arms around him, holding him together in his acute state of arousal. On and on she spoke, the muffled, whispered words maddeningly indiscernible to me.

Suddenly he jerked forward—not out of her embrace, it was just his hips canting. A great arc of cum shot towards me, and his long, pleasure-soaked groan filtered through the slats.

I held my breath, desire whipping through my groin.

Another ribbon of cum followed the first, slapping wetly onto the floor.

Still Zara spoke, held him, squeezed him.

One of his knees gave way. He quickly righted himself as a final, shorter string of pearly fluid left his cock. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly against Zara’s arms, the muscles in his belly clearly defined.

Finally she stopped spilling her devilish words into his mind. She raised her head and stared straight at me, her eyes sharp, her mouth tipped in a cocky grin.

Fuck.

I’d come in my pants.

PHEW!!! Holy guacamole! What did I tell you? It is flaming hot in here! Gosh, even I’m blushing ;D