Ashlee Shades is a small town girl living in the city. She enjoys spending her days either reading or writing...or hanging out on social media. Her reading and writing genre of choice is erotic romance. She loves to escape between the pages of a romance book that has a touch of erotica. Ashlee's goal is to give the reader a sensually, erotic journey as they read her romance books. Her readers have referred to her stories as "hot", "erotic", "sensual", and a "must read". Her books are a little bit naughty and a little bit nice - but one fantastic package! She loves connecting with readers and supporting fellow authors. You may have read her books under her former pen name, in which case... she thanks you!
Who is your favorite artist (writer, painter, musician, poet, etc.)?
My favorite writer/poet. Well, I have two. I love Lord Byron and Edgar Allan Poe.
Odd combination, right? Deep love and emotional darkness. Fear and hope.
I do love Bronte and Austen, along with Shakespeare. But when it comes down to favorites it would be Byron and Poe.
My present state of mind is peaceful. It isn’t always like that, but over the last week I have been focusing on the positives in my life and finding peace.
What is your motto or favorite quote?
Ooh. I love this question, R.B.! I have quite a few mottos. I hope you don’t mind if I share more than one?
- Always try your best, even if it isn’t “as good as” others.
- Be the friend to others you would like to have.
- Always be true to you.
- Every moment of every day you are writing your history. Make sure you are writing one you would like to read in years to come.
- Every moment you spend with others you are possibly creating a last memory. Make the moment count.
Music. Pain. Anger. Loneliness. Rainy days. A deep conversation with a friend. Intelligence. The beauty in the world, which isn’t always the neat, tidy, glorified version of beauty we see in magazines and on billboards.
The things that turn me on are the things that make me actually feel. Things that connect with me on those levels. Things that trigger something deep within me and make me reflect on life, on who I am and what my purpose is.
My favorite word? Hmm… that is a tough one. So many words to choose from. I think my favorite word would be beautiful. It is a word to describe what I would always love to be, and what I see others as when they show their heart. My least favorite word? That is an easy one: can’t.
A hero, to me, is one who does what is right regardless of what is popular. Regardless of what is expected. Regardless of what is easy. A child standing up for another who is being bullied at school is a hero/heroine. A person speaking out against violence knowing they could face serious consequences is a hero/heroine.
I can say that my parents are heroes to me. They stood the test of time right up until my mom’s death. They went against family wishes when they married. They did everything they could to teach us to be the people we are even when it wasn’t always easy.
A hero doesn’t always have to be someone who faces danger, although they are absolutely heroes and heroines if they do.
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Samantha bit into the ripe, juicy strawberry while maintaining direct eye contact with her Teacher, as instructed. It was difficult, because all she wanted to do was close her eyes and lose herself in the sweetness of her favorite fruit.
This was a game they played, a lesson, every morning. If she obeyed and followed directions well enough then she would receive her reward each night. Her rewards were usually sexual, erotic, and always pleasurable.
“Good girl, Samantha,” he praised her obedience. She loved hearing him speak, whether it was to reprimand her for being too naughty, or praising her for her submission, she enjoyed hearing him.
“How does that strawberry taste, Samantha?” he asked her, arms on the table and hands folded in front of him. He was waiting, intently, for her to answer.
“It is soft, juicy, and incredibly sweet.”
“What does the strawberry feel like in your mouth?”
She thought before answering him. He had never asked her, specifically, to describe the texture of food before.
“I am waiting, Darlin’. Tell me, what does the strawberry feel like as it slides around your tongue?” He asked her.
“It is soft and silky against my tongue, like melted chocolate, with tiny seeds that feel a bit gritty, but they don’t take away from the softness, and sweetness.”
“Would you like another one?” he asked her as he lifted one up in the air as an offering to her.
“Then you need to come over here and get it.”
She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up to walk to him, but he stopped her, “No, Samantha, not like that. You need to crawl to me, and beg me for the last strawberry.”
Oh, he wanted it that way, did he? Well, she was a smart girl, she wanted her rewards tonight, and so she got down on her hands and knees.
“On the table,” he commanded.
She looked at him questioningly, not really believing that he expected her to crawl across the table. When he did not say anything, she turned her head and glanced back at the table, then back to him.
He nodded, “Yes, Samantha. I want you to crawl across to me, on the table.”
She slowly stood up and walked back to her end of the table. She stood there for a moment before finally climbing onto the tabletop.
He had no idea how difficult it was for her by not having the permission to break eye contact; how turned on she was becoming from seeing the lust and hunger in his eyes as she crawled seductively across the table, swiping their plates out of her way. They landed on the floor, many of them shattering, but she did not care. Her only objective was to reach him and retrieve that strawberry.
She arrived at his end and attempted to grab the strawberry. He slowly pulled it out of her reach, and said, “Oh no, Samantha. Use your mouth. Remember, you must follow the rules if you want your reward.”
He teased her with it, licking the tip of the strawberry, and then taking a bite for himself. Damn! She thought to herself as she watched his tongue dart out to catch the juices that trickled out of the corner of his mouth. He smirked when his eyes met hers, that knowing little twitch of the lips that told her he knew exactly what that did to her nether regions. Oh, what she would give to have been those juices right now.
He stretched out his hand to offer her what remained of the strawberry. Even with her eyes focused on him, she could see the colors of the fruit as it neared her mouth.
“Open up, Samantha,” he told her, and she did.
She opened her mouth just enough for the ripe fruit to enter, and right before she bit down on it, he stopped her with his fingers on her chin.
“Not so fast, darling. I have not given you permission to eat the fruit, only taste it. I want you to hold it between your front teeth, let the sweetness of it invade your mouth and senses, nothing else.”
Oh God! She said to herself, and moaned as she sunk her teeth into ripe, juicy fruit.
She held it between her teeth, the sweetness filling her mouth, juices oozing out of her like the dampness between her legs soaking her panties. The throbbing in her pussy was making it hard for her to concentrate on maintaining her eye contact, causing her to have difficulty following directions.
The look in his eyes told her that he knew how she was feeling, knew she was on the verge of disobeying.
He stood up in his tailored dress suit and leaned close to her, his lips almost touching her ear, and said, “I can smell you, Samantha. Your scent is sweeter than the fruit in your mouth, more intoxicating than the strongest liquor. Don’t you dare disobey, or you will be punished.”
He straightened up, readjusted his tie and his cock, which was fully erect and pressing against the zipper of his dress slacks, and gave one final order, “I am running late, Samantha. I want you to stay there for another five minutes, staring straight ahead at the clock on the wall. Do not look away, do not move from the table, and do not chew on that strawberry until the five minutes are up. Remember, I will be watching.” With those commands issued, he left the dining room.
She whimpered as she did exactly what the Teacher instructed. He knew this was torture enough for her, holding this between her teeth without moving; she didn’t want a punishment tonight on top of it.
MY 5*REVIEW of BLIND SENSATIONS, the first book in the series...