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About the author:
Leina sleeps in the day and plays at night. She loves thinking up sexy new scenarios, trying them out with willing others, and then writing them down.
What inspired you to write your book?
Reading erotica and not finding what I was looking for.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Here I am again.
My feet scrape against each other, and against the old stone floor, as if they had a mind of their own. It's a mild day, but I feel almost like shivering. I'm damp with sweat, and my breathing is ragged and shaky.
My tutor didn't say anything directly to me, in fact she didn't say anything to me at all when we finished our studies today, but when I saw the note saying that Mrs Hall wanted to see me in the old school room at three I knew what to expect.
Finally, just when I'm managing to reassure myself and feel a little calmer, I hear Mrs Hall's voice through the door – clipped, no-nonsense, deadly calm.
All my nerves return in a shot. I jump up, but then walk slowly to the door and push it open gingerly, as though I'm not sure what I'll find on the other side. The scene on the other side of the door, however, is crushingly predictable. Mrs Hall stands over on one side of the room, by the bookshelves. On her face is a mixture of annoyance, contempt and grim satisfaction. Right in front of me, stood next to the old wooden desk at which we spend our mornings working through my classes, is my tutor. Her disappointment is all the clearer on a face so pleasant and friendly, so quick ordinarily to break into a smile. But there is determination there as well, hardening the edges of her eyes.
My tutor's disappointment cuts through me, adding shame to my fear, and I feel myself start to blush. But the determination I see sends my eyes downwards, to what is dangling from her hand, the dark leather brushing softly against the hem of her skirt. I feel a clutch at my chest and my heart pounds loudly in my ears.
"Why are we back here again Emily?"
My tutor's voice is sad, almost small.
"You'd been doing so well."
It is almost as if she is genuinely asking me. I want to be able to answer her, but I just stare down at the wooden floorboards at her feet. I feel my blush deepen.
"Come here please."
She sounds resigned and tired, but now irritation creeps into her voice, if not quite anger. I walk over to the desk. Then comes the instruction that I've been dreading, that's been playing itself over and over in my head since the moment I saw Mrs Hall's dreadful summons on my door.
"Take down your knickers, pull up your skirt, and bend over with your hands on the desk."