Jacky Donovan - Instant Whips and Dream Toppings
Instant Whips and Dream Toppings is Jacky Donovan's first book. An autobiography of her life as Mistress Kimberley, the latest BDSM book to entice and titillate people. Instant Whips and Dream Toppings is unique amongst the latest BDSM books, domination books and fetish books. It is a witty tale of the quirky, bizarre, funny and often tear jerking sessions of Jacky Donovan as Mistress Kimberley. Set against a backdrop of Jacky Donovan's private life, Instant Whips and Dream Toppings provides a sharp contrast with her previous frumpy and submissive self. Readers of 50 Shades of Grey, Sylvia Day and similar successful BDSM books will love Instant Whips and Dream Toppings for its unique take on the BDSM scene. Similarly, the light hearted and witty style of Instant Whips and Dream Toppings ensures that it holds great appeal for lovers of chick-lit style books. Top selling BDSM books will soon see Instant Whips and Dream Toppings amongst their midst. For further details of Jacky Donovan please see the About the author Page. For a cheeky glimpse at excerpts from the book please click the Excerpts from Instant Whips and Dream Toppings link. Information about the latest reviews of Instant Whips and Dream Toppings can be found on the Reviews page. To buy Instant Whips and Dream Toppings go to the Buy now page. If you would like to get in touch with Jacky Donovan, author of Instant Whips and Dream Toppings then please visit the contacts page
Excerpt from Chapter 21 - Drop the bomb - where I pick up part way through the chapter
We didn’t have long left to play our Gaelic game. I knew he had to shoot and score soon.
“Now grab your cock, you weasel.” I put my face close to his wincing visage. “I want you to show me how much you love me.” Sometimes they’d finish themselves off, sometimes I did it for them, depending on my mood and the aesthetics of their penis. This one looked like the Four Courts in Dublin, short and squat with a round dome. Look it up if you don’t believe me. He reached down while I continued to yank on the clamps with one hand and squeeze his balls with the other. “I can’t, Mistress,” he pleaded. “What do you mean you can’t? Do it now. I want you to come all over your pathetic body.” “Coat hanger.” I thought I’d misheard him and he’d suddenly gone all Lenny Henry on me – “Katanga”. “What was that?” “A coat hanger, Mistress.” I’d clean forgotten about his third randy request, so I peered into his bag again. I couldn’t see any coat hanger. “Where is it?” I interrogated him, nettled. “I didn’t bring one,” he cowered. “I thought you’d have one, Mistress. With being a woman and everything.” For God’s sake. Liberties. “Wait there,” I snapped and went into a back room to see if I happened to have any lying around. I managed to find one buried under a pile of dirty, dirty clothes. One of those metal ones with two clips on either end that barely manage to grip. I hate them.
I stepped back in. Enda was sniffing and sniffling, his cock was lolling around on his left thigh.
“Right then, slave,” and I lashed him and lashed him thoroughly, taking my frustration of the useless coat hanger out on his legs and chest, his speeding heart pumping against his ribs.
“Ow. That’s great, but it isn’t what I wanted,” he spluttered as he sat up on the bed. “Can I have it please, Mistress?”
I handed it to him. He turned the coat hanger upside down, pushed his cock and balls through and deftly twisted it round and round like some sort of metal origamist, trapping them ever tighter with every twist and turn of the metal. It made my eyes water just watching.
Suitably trapped, with the hook dangling between his legs, Enda looked at me, expectantly.