Jennifer Jane Pope

I nodded and opened my mouth to say something, but immediately it was filled for me, as Anne-Marie pressed a soft rubber ball between my teeth and buckled a retaining strap at the nape of my neck to prevent me spitting it out again. 'Oh, sweet, ' she trilled. She came around and knelt down, so that she was looking up into my face. 'I'll have to let you see yourself gagged, ' she said. 'A gag does make a girl's face look so gorgeous, I've always thought; makes those big eyes look even bigger.' Born in the fifties, a child in the 'Swinging Sixties', Teena Thyme comes to adulthood in the even more outlandish seventies, a self-possessed eighteen year old with the ability to see the funny side of most things. Little does she know, when she inherits the estate of a great-great-great aunt she never knew she had, that she will need all her wits, resolve and downright bloody-mindedness in order to survive the trials of time travelling and the perils of being a woman in an age when men ruled - either with a rod of birch or a whip of leather. Whisked back through the ages, Teena finds herself as the very unwilling pawn in the power games of the black hearted Sir Gregory Hacklebury, who is determined to marry another of her previously unknown ancestors and seize her inheritance, even if to do so means that he must kill the unfortunate Angelina Spigworth, whose body Teena is now inhabiting - a body constrained by corsets, abused by everyone she comes in contact with and finally, it seems, destined to be left to rot in a forgotten prison.

As they turned her about and positioned her over the seat and the waiting dildo, she tried to cry out for them to stop and made a feeble attempt at resistance, but the bonds on her arms and wrists rendered her completely helpless. She turned her head wildly from side to side, finally identifying her two captors as Gavin and Carla. Each had a hand under her lower thigh and another gripping her upper arm so that she was being supported in the sitting position and, as they began to lower her, Hazel stepped between her splayed thighs and stooped to guide her onto the long, thick shaft... Jobless Lianne Connolly takes in model Ellen Sanderson as a lodger. Ellen talks her into standing in for a colleague who has fallen ill - but this is no ordinary photo shoot. Lianne meets Nadia Muirhead, the driving force behind a team dedicated to creating the world's most erotic comic strip, with Lianne and Ellen as the rubber-clad heroines in peril. But events take a disastrous turn when Lianne is kidnapped, and finds herself having to recreate her role for the mastermind behind a scheme to bring the comic strip to the Internet. However, this time there are two essential differences - no salary and no choices. This time it is for real

He fumbled with the buckle of his belt. 'Now that most of the devil's work has been scourged from you, it's time again to at least welcome your physical body back into the fold. Let's see if you still have the strength to wriggle as you did before, ' he challenged, leering... Witchfinder Jacob Crawley has the countryside around the Hampshire village of Fetworth held in a grip of terror, as rural superstition and fear flies in the face of emergent 17th century urban reason. Hooded, gagged and bound, beautiful Harriet Merridew lies in the church vault, substituted for the unfortunate Matilda Pennywise, whom Crawley is shortly to execute for witchcraft, whilst her bitter rival, Jane Handiwell, leader of a gang of nocturnal highwaywomen, revels in her plight and in the pending fate of Harriet's cousin Sarah, now sold by Jane to Roderick Grayling, son of the local Lord of the Manor to become just another statistic in his white slavery operation. Only Thomas Handiwell, Jane's innkeeper father and Harriet's would-be suitor, and a handful of troopers supposedly commanded by an inexperienced and convalescent young officer, stand between further murder and extortion and any chance of a return to sanity.

The metal contraption was an old scold's bridle, something Matilda had only previously seen in picture books at her former home. The iron bands were dull, but any rust appeared to have been removed and the hinges showed traces of having been oiled. Her initial reaction was to draw back, attempt to resist having the cruel device placed upon her head, but she quickly realised that such an action was futile and likely only to earn her even more dire retribution. Set in the latter half of the seventeenth century, in an England ruled by fear and superstition, this is a tale of ignorance versus wealth and so-called education where, despite the fact that the notorious Witchfinder General has supposedly died in disgrace some fifteen years since, his acolytes continue his nefarious work in the more remote villages and hamlets. Greed, torture and a clandestine white slavery network are all intertwined here, where the wrong word, a misinterpreted glance, or simply a pretty maiden spurning the advances of a powerful admirer, can lead to a gruesome death, or worse still, a life of degradation, humiliation and constant agonies. Add a handful of genuine witches, with their own speciality of 'wyrd' sex, abduction and torture, and life in rural Hampshire starts to become more than just a little precarious.

A secretive health farm on a remote Scottish island is the cover for an establishment devoted to the satisfaction of specialist tastes. Here the rich and famous can indulge their every desire, from SM power games to pony-girl carting, with perfect slave service and the utmost discretion. But why do so many of the slaves look the same?