Various - Nexus Confessions: Volume Three

Contents

Sophie likes to hire men for pleasure, but her tastes are getting extreme

Jans an estate agent who likes to conduct a kinky kind of viewing

Zoe is driven by her craving for the breasts of older women

Deborah goes on assignment to interview a dominatrix and learns about submission

Bridies an actress and is hired to act out the fantasies of another woman

Swinging, dogging, group sex, cross-dressing, spanking, female domination, corporal punishment, and extreme fetishes Nexus Confessions explores the length and breadth of erotic obsession, real experience and sexual fantasy. An encyclopaedic collection of the bizarre, the extreme, the utterly inappropriate, the daring and the shocking experiences of ordinary men and women driven by their extraordinary desires. Collected by the worlds leading publisher of fetish fiction, these are true stories and shameful confessions, never-before-told or published.

Other titles available in the Nexus Confessions series:

NEXUS CONFESSIONS: VOLUME ONE

NEXUS CONFESSIONS: VOLUME TWO

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9780753517772

www.randomhouse.co.uk

First published in 2008 by

Nexus

Thames Wharf Studios

Rainville Rd

London W6 9HA

Copyright Virgin Books Ltd 2008

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

www.nexus-books.com

ISBN 978 0 352 34113 6

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Who can forget the first time they read a readers letter in an adult magazine? It could make your legs shake. You could almost feel your imagination stretching to comprehend exactly what some woman had done with a neighbour, the baby-sitter, her best friend, her sons friend, a couple of complete strangers, whatever Do real women actually do these things? Did this guy really get that lucky? We asked ourselves these questions, and the not knowing, and the wanting to believe, or wanting to disbelieve because we felt we were missing out, were all part of the reading experience, the fun, the involvement in the confessions of others, as if we were reading some shameful diary. And when Nancy Fridays collections of sexual fantasies became available, didnt we all shake our heads and say, no way, some depraved writer made all of this up. No woman could possibly want to do that. Or this guy must be crazy. But I bet there are readers letters and confessed fantasies that we read years, even decades ago, that we can still remember clearly. Stories that haunt us: did it, might it, could it have really happened? And stories that still thrill us when the lights go out because they have informed our own dreams. But as we get older and become more experienced, maybe we have learnt that we would be foolish to underestimate anyone sexually, especially ourselves.

The scope of human fantasy and sexual experience seems infinite now. And our sexual urges and imaginations never cease to eroticise any new situation or trend or cultural flux about us. To browse online and to see how many erotic sub-cultures have arisen and made themselves known, is to be in awe. Same deal with magazines and adult films the variety, the diversity, the complexity and level of obsessive detail involved. But I still believe there are few pictures or visuals that can offer the insights into motivation and desire, or reveal the inner world of a fetish, or detail the pure visceral thrill of sexual arousal, or the anticipation and suspense of a sexual experience in the same way that a story can. When it comes to the erotic you cant beat a narrative, and when it comes to an erotic narrative you cant beat a confession. An actual experience or longing confided to you, the reader, in a private dialogue that declares: yes, if I am honest, I even shock myself at what I have done and what I want to do. There is something comforting about it. And unlike a novel, with an anthology there is the additional perk of dipping in and out and of not having to follow continuity; the chance to find something fresh and intensely arousing every few pages written by a different hand. Start at the back if you want. Anthologies are perfect for erotica, and they thrive when the short story in other genres has tragically gone the way of poetry.

So sit back and enjoy the Nexus Confessions series. It offers the old school thrills of reading about the sexual shenanigans of others, but Nexus-style. And the fantasies and confessions that came flooding in when the call went out on our website are probably only suitable for Nexus. Because like the rest of our canon, they detail fetishes, curious tastes and perverse longings: the thrills of shame and humiliation, the swapping of genders, and the ecstasy of submission or domination. There are no visiting milkmen, or busty neighbours hanging out the washing and winking over the hedge here. Oh, no. Our readers and fantasists are far more likely to have been spanked, or caned, feminised into women, have given themselves to strangers, to have dominated other men or women, gone dogging, done the unthinkable, behaved inappropriately and broken the rules.

Lindsay Gordon, Spring 2007

Im paid to be right, maximising the chance of success; or, when events turn in the wrong direction, to minimise risk. The balance depends on attention to detail and the correct prediction of outcomes. But we cant stay on the professional plane, governed by rationality, forever. Personal lives involve erratic emotions.

In the mirror its the power player I see with glossy black hair, expensively cut and combed to a casual style. Highly arched brows curve over intense hazel eyes. Flawless tanned skin glows with rouge on high cheekbones and into the hollows beneath. Broad sculptured lips glisten in complementary red. The charcoal-grey Chanel suit clings to my slender form. For timid women the outfit might be too revealing, its plunging neckline too wide and deep, but how should a Finance Director of an international company be expected to dress? And beneath the strictly formal covering no one could detect the wispy lace of bra and panties which leave no outward trace.

I slung the red crocodile bag onto my shoulder, picked up its matching briefcase, and left the washroom. Outside, the terminal bustled with confused human traffic. As I walked across to the bar, poised with diamond precision on high heels, the broad suspender straps a souvenir of the Paris adventure stretched down my thighs comfortingly. Parisians understand chic underwear. Hoisting the skirt I arranged myself on a stool and, when the barman approached, ordered a Martini. While he poured and delivered I sat unconcerned by a rude examination that lingered over my face and drifted into the shadowed cleavage. In fact I inclined further to deepen his view as if hot for attention and finished the drink unhurriedly. But when I paid with a generous tip I gave him an icy appraisal to convey that sex, a commodity in the personal services sector, can be bought, just like Martini.