New Release!
The Journeyman’s Trial
By Lisabet Sarai
Steampunk Erotica, MF, MM, FF, MFM, FMF, etcetera…
92,000 words, 321 pages
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463505649
ASIN: B09MQV4Y86
BUY LINKS
Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/618-the-journeymans-trial-the-toymakers-guild-book-2/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09MQV4Y86
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09MQV4Y86
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1118032
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Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59740783-the-journeyman-s-trial
BLURB
If she builds it, will they come?
Technically brilliant and thoroughly wanton, Gillian Smith has found her vocation: designing innovative erotic devices for the Toymakers Guild. Lust is a lubricant to creativity at Randerley Hall. But what happens when two Toymakers fall in love?
If you like intelligent, lusty women and kinky steam punk sex toys, pick up a copy of The Journeyman’s Trial.
Victorian Nerds
Greetings. My name is Lisabet, and I’m an engineer.
In the so-called real world, I design and write computer software. I also manage development projects and mentor other engineers. I’m surrounded by smart people who enjoy the puzzles of technology and who like to make things work. It’s a challenging but exciting environment, an environment in which solving a tough problem can be as satisfying as… well, maybe even as satisfying as an orgasm. In a different way of course.
In The Journeyman’s Trial I’ve indulged myself by bringing some of that excitement into the story. The Toymakers Guild is basically a group of young Victorian nerds. Archie’s a genius with electricity. Rafe’s a chemist as well as a creative mechanical engineer. Jia excels at clockwork artifacts and optics. My heroine Gillian has skills in all these areas, but what fascinates her most is mathematics and computation. In a world where computers don’t really exist yet, she’s trying to create them and figure out how to make them work.
Then there’s the Master Toymaker, a genius who not only knows how to design and build physical devices, but who also has a deep understanding of human thought and emotions.
The novel includes pseudo-technical descriptions of the outrageous sexual artifacts the Guild produces. I suppose that some people might get impatient with my flights of engineering fancy, but for me, that has been part of the fun in writing this series. I love imagining how innovations that are commonplace today might have been realized in the Victorian era, given the technical limitations of the period.
Is the book realistic? Well, yes and no. I’ve taken a lot of technical liberties, but in fact the second half of the nineteenth century was a time of great progress and innovation.
And what about the sexual insatiability of my characters?
I’ve known, and loved, a lot of nerds in my life. Contrary to the stereotypes, really intelligent people are often very active sexually. They have a richer, more elaborated understanding of desire and the many ways it can be fulfilled. None of the characters in The Journeyman’s Trial is based on a real person, but I’ve been involved with quite a few brilliant individuals who had similar attitudes – open-minded, experimental and focused on giving and receiving pleasure.
Just like Gillian and her uninhibited colleagues.
EXCERPT
Lucy’s door was closed. After a moment’s hesitation, Gillian knocked. A soft giggle was the only response.
“Lucy? Jia? It’s Gillian. May I come in?”
Another burst of laughter filtered through the panelled door. A moment later the portal swung open to reveal Lucy’s petite but curvaceous form.
“Jill! What a pleasure!”
As usual, Lucinda was attired in the latest fashion, a royal blue day frock trimmed with violet ribbon. The colours set off her hair, which fell in golden ringlets around her heart-shaped face. Gillian couldn’t help but notice that those blonde locks looked a bit dishevelled and that the top three buttons on her close-fitting bodice were undone.
Lucy grasped both of Gillian’s hands. “Do come in! You can help.”
Overwhelmed as she often was by the other woman’s sheer energy, Gillian allowed herself to be drawn into the room.
The office was smaller than her own and crowded with the tools of Lucy’s trade. A draughtsman’s table with a high stool occupied the left side. Rolls of paper stood on end in the corner and supply cabinets lined the back wall. On the right, a low chaise faced the drawing station. On that chaise reclined the new apprentice Jia Wang, completely nude aside from her spectacles.
Gillian caught her breath. The Asian woman’s skin glowed like pale honey, as though lit from within. It stretched, smooth and unblemished, over the modest swell of her breasts and across her taut belly. Her sleek plait draped over one shoulder. Her limbs were arranged with casual grace, one arm along the back of the chaise, the other resting upon her outstretched thigh. A raised knee partially hid the crevice between her legs, casting an intriguing shadow.
“Younger Sister.” The Chinese apprentice inclined her head as she offered the traditional greeting. Her lips quirked in a half smile. “Welcome! It has been many days since we have had your company.”
“Jia – I mean, Older Sister – is right.” Lucy shut the door behind them, then idly unfastened another button, her eyes locked with Gillian’s. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding us.”
“I – um – I’ve been occupied with my training. Plus Mrs. Featherstone has assigned me a particularly tricky project…” Gillian wondered why she felt obliged to make excuses.
“Never mind,” Lucy exclaimed. “You’re here now. And we’re just about at the point where we need your assistance.”
“What sort of assistance? What are you doing?” She ventured another glance at the alluring figure on the chaise. Jia sat up straighter, arching her back and stretching her arms over her head, a position that showed off her raspberry-dark nipples. A bolt of desire flashed through Gillian’s body and her own nubs snapped to attention under her lab coat.
Lucy pulled Gillian over behind the easel. “A new product for the catalogue. Naughty postcards. Look!” Sure enough, half a dozen sketches of Jia in various stages of undress decorated the paper. In the earliest, she stood gazing into the distance, still wearing her pantaloons, her silken tunic hanging open and her hand absently cupping her breast. In another, she was topless, bending to slide the loose trousers over the swell of her hips.
The most recent drawing, of Jia lying bare and elegant on the chaise, was clearly unfinished, but Lucy had managed to catch the enigmatic attraction of the Chinese apprentice, simultaneously lascivious and distant.
“London’s quite mad these days about all things Oriental. I expect the set will be very popular.”
Her enthusiasm was irresistible. “Yes, I expect so,” Gillian agreed with an indulgent smile. “Sometimes it’s more arousing to be suggestive than explicit.”
“Oh, we plan to get more explicit by and by,” Lucy countered. “As I indicated, you can help.” She reached out to unbutton Gillian’s garment, starting at the neckline and moving down.
Gillian tensed, even as a new thrill sizzled through her.
“Relax, Jill,” Lucy murmured, her nimble fingers busy with the buttons below the waist. “We’re not going to eat you.” She pushed the lab coat off Gillian’s shoulders, revealing the nakedness beneath. “Or maybe we will,” she added, leaning in to latch on to a newly exposed nipple.
Wet heat laved that aching bud, making Gillian groan. Lucy sucked hard, sending bright stabs of pleasure down to Gillian’s clit, then released her with a giggle.
“You’re a delight, Jill. I’ve really missed you.”
“And you’re a dirty little minx,” she replied, with a quick pinch to one of Lucy’s nubs. “I thought you wanted me to help with your postcard project.”
“Oh, I do! Jia, would you mind resuming your pose? That’s lovely, thanks! Now, Jill – crawl up on the chaise, near Jia’s feet.”
As Gillian mounted the low pedestal, Jia let her legs fall open. Her sweet, musky scent filled the air.
“Perfect! Now bend forward and pretend you’re licking her cunny.”
“Pretend?” The Chinese woman’s sex beckoned, glistening outer lips the colour of wine, framed by silky black hair. Saliva gathered in Gillian’s mouth.
“Well, you can lick her if you’d like – but don’t thrash around. I need you to hold still so I can finish the sketch.”
Gillian tore her attention away from Jia’s tempting cunt, raising her eyes. The Asian girl gazed back, her half-smile impossible to interpret. Was it an invitation? A dare? Not a refusal, certainly.
“I’m ready, Younger Sister.” Jia’s voice was soft, but full of passion. “Let us give Lucy what she has asked.”
ABOUT LISABET
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh
About the Author, Amber Daulton
Scowling, Nadja huffed, “You know I don’t like calling it a dildo. It’s my magical crystal wand.”
He chuckled, remembering how she’d wanted to get rid of him. He opened the book and studied numerous pictures of majestic, gilded onion-domed buildings and snow-covered fields. There were no words. He flipped to the back of the book and frowned. It had words all right, but in letters totally unfamiliar to him.
I was fortunate, however, to be able to attend a Ukrainian Ballet performance of Prokofiev’s Cinderella while I was in Kyiv, at the Kyiv Opera House, pictured here.
