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You heard it right--polyamory age-play spanking novel in the works! :)

You heard it right–polyamory age-play spanking novel in the works! 🙂

Saturday Spankings is back this week, and I thought I might give you all a looksee into the Contemporary Ageplay I’ve been writing for the last two weeks. As you can see from the progress meter in this page’s upper right-hand corner, you can see that I’m plowing right through. If you want to see a character list of my story (so far untitled), go here and take a look.

What’s going on in the 8-sentence scene below? This particular spanking is Sophie’s first real bout of discipline from her new girlfriend, Liz, who was Sophie’s role-model before it became clear that Liz wanted to have a relationship with her. Sophie’s not into ageplay yet, but she’ll get more and more into it and the sexual world brought on by her new “family”, which consists of Liz, and her live-in boyfriends Charlie and Josh who also help sake the 32-year-old successful business woman’s lust. “Daddy” Charlie and “Uncle” Josh also like the ageplay lifestyle, but at this point Sophie hasn’t met them yet (and is extremely nervous about them not approving her once they do meet), but knows they’re in the kitchen below the bedroom where this is all taking place.

She felt Liz adjust her on her lap so that her bottom was right in the middle, bent upwards, and until Sophie’s toes were only fanning across the floorboards. Just as Sophie realized that, even though she’d heard of people who liked spanking sexually, she had a feeling that she was not going to think this was sexual, Elizabeth flipped up Sophie’s sundress over her back and neck.

Suddenly, a horrifying thought occurred to Sophie, and right at the worst possible time. “What if your boyfriends can hear?” she whispered fretfully. Surely, Elizabeth didn’t want Sophie to die with mortification right before Sophie was supposed to meet the two men downstairs.

Elizabeth snorted with amusement. “Believe you me,” she replied, “they’ve heard me give plenty of spankings in the past, and I’ve seen and heard them give plenty of spankings themselves. I assure you that they’ll hardly be alarmed. You need to be worried more about you right now, Sophia,” she assured.

Saturday Spankings

 

Domestic Discipline is, in my opinon, a great lifestyle. I think, when done properly, it came improve one's married life or relationship for the better. But a lady getting support from her friends and family? That's gonna be much trickier.

I’ve responded about this on other people’s blogs but I’ve never posted anything about this before on my own. I’ve heard of a lot of people “coming out” as spankos, as in they tell their vanilla family and friends what they’re up to. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. Really, it’s all about the delivery.

You could do it this way:

YOUR FRIEND: I don’t know why people like 50 Shades of Grey. It just has a bunch of BDSM and spanking.

YOU: Well, duh. Because spanking and BDSM is totally hot. Me and my husband even partake sometimes. We’re totally into it.

YOUR FRIEND: (laughing) Wow. Okay. TMI. Nevermind.

OUTCOME:  There’s very low chance of sling-back because you’re acting so casual about it, and there’s a hidden, ‘We do this but we also do other stuff, too’, message. You’re implying that you’re just talking about the bedroom, and not really going into specifics, like how you obsess about spanking all the time. They’re not even thinking about it in the way you do it. Say something like this, and they’ll think you end your play at the line where you’re tied up or that he might give you a couple of spanks on the rump as he’s hard-fucking you from behind. Maybe even a playful swat outside the bedroom. Lots of non-spankos do the same thing.

In short, you didn’t come out as a spanko., even (which, because spanko could be talked about like a sexual taste and  not a lifestyle, so it’s different and more accepted), let alone a wife in a DD relationship. Maybe you will; this is an excellent first step. It’s prep work, but it’s not “coming out”. As far as “DD” goes, you didn’t come out at all. In fact, as far as explaining that your husband does this for discipline… You just mis-directed them. Now, if they see your husband giving you a swat on the bottom, they’ll just think it’s sexual.

HAS KOREY DONE THIS?

Fuck yeah, I’ve done this. I’ve had this exact conversation. It’s no big deal. In fact–I’ve WANTED to misdirect my vanilla friend so that they DIDN’T think that James was the HoH. I’ve gone that far. Hell, I even had a similar conversation with my father that went something like this:

KOREY: You guys [both of my parents] have been pretty cool about the whole erotica business I do.

DAD: Well, it’s no big deal. Sex is out there, and it’s not like you do porn or anything. At least you’re not doing anything Kinky. Like… Like what’s it called? BDSM and stuff.

KOREY: Oh no, Dad. I’ve published BDSM. Lots of it.

DAD: …Really?

KOREY: It’s a big-seller, Dad.

DAD: But you’re not writing it or anything.

KOREY: Yeah I do… It sells.

DAD: … Oh. Okay. Well, you know your audience better than I do.

OUTCOME: If he ever does figure out I’m KMJ, and sees the books I’ve written, he can’t say he hasn’t been warned. Does he even assume I’m in a DD relationship? No. Does he think I write about SPANKING specifically? No. Does he think I’ve done BDSM myself? No. He doesn’t even think that. When I was twenty-two, I went out to a concert with him and his friends, somebody told a blow-job joke, and he put me at the center of attention by asking, “You don’t even get that joke, do you?” Being twenty-two, I had to say, “Dad, I know what a blow-job is. I live in Monmouth, not on Mars.”  And then he turned red and felt very awkward, because I think he actually thought I didn’t know about any sexual positions except good ol’ missionary. (I’d been having sex since I was seventeen, with my high-school substitute teacher (who was only 3 years older than me, but that IS how I met him). Dad knew this… when I was seventeen. When my family went to Europe when during my senior year (in highschool) and left me behind because I had tests, he invited that same boyfriend over to keep me company and sleep in THEIR bed so we’d both be more comfortable (because it’s the only queen in the house). But Dad never lept to the conclusion that the three-year-older man wouldn’t teach me fellatio? Come on! But I digress…)

WHAT A COMING-OUT CONVERSATION LOOKS LIKE

You might think that you're selling your friends short by not being honest with them, or thinking that they'll react badly. The thing to keep in mind is this: your friends are NOT BAD for reacting the way they are. You are giving them a lot to swallow, and most people choke on brain-food like coming out about and defending your DD relationship.

Physically, you know when you’re having a coming-out conversation because you come out of it so sweaty you need to shower, asap, and because everyone else looks interested but extremely uncomfortable. Word-wise, it will probably sound something like this:

YOUR FRIENDS: What? What? What do you mean against-the-rules? You’re [insert age here]. There’s no rules here. Who says?

YOU: My husband.

YOUR FRIENDS: So? Go tell him to shove his rules up his ass. Do it anyway. What’s he gonna do?

YOU (frustrated by now, because they won’t not let you not go to that nude-beach-party, they’ll hammer you, so you say the real reason for why your wet-t-shirt-contest days are over): He’d spank me, actually. I’d prefer not to court his wrath.

YOUR FRIENDS: What the fuck do you mean, he spanks you? That’s fucking abuse! He can’t spank you!

OUTCOME: You just turned an hour glass down on your friendship with these people. They’re “open-minded”. They like to sit and talk all day about how open-minded they are—so open minded that they’ve gone on hill tops shouting it. They’ve gone to sex clubs on Halloween just to see the insanity, they’ve gone to nude-beaches, etc, but they will NEVER understand domestic discipline.

In their minds, it’s already abuse. There’s nothing you can say that’s not going to sound like a battered wife saying that ‘she deserves’ her husband beating her.

Their opinion of you is lowered, and their opinion of your husband, the love of your life, has been decimated. They will hate him, they will give you bad counsel if you ever have a fight with him, they will do everything they can to get you away from him. Eventually you will get sick of it, sick of the way they treat him and the way they talk to you, and you’ll stop hanging out with them. You’ll see that their relationships aren’t any better, and probably much worse, than your own, and the last thing you need is their advice and the last thing you want is their sympathy when you have everything you want in life.

A lot of times, the conversation with these friends will look like this, but the outcome will be the same:

YOUR FRIEND: I wish I had a relationship like yours. It seems like you and your husband are so intimate and cute and he actually pays attention to you. What’s your secret?

YOU: Well… Believe it or not, my husband and I have a Domestic-Discipline relationship. He’s the Head-of-my-Household, he makes rules, I follow them, and then I get spanked if I don’t. (You might go onto explain that you don’t fight so often because of this. Hard decisions actually have a way of being solved, you move on from issues that have been discussed rather than letting them spoil your relationship, and your husband is very hard-working and thinks of you first because he’s trying to set a good example for you. At this point, you’ve already lost her. She got lost right at the word Discipline or at least, Spanking. Later, head of household).

OUTCOME: Is the same as the first conversation. When your friend asked for relationship advice and said that your relationship was better, that was before she knew about the DD. Her opinion of your relationship went from Healthy to Abusive just that fast. She no longer likes your husband, in fact, she now fears him. She will never ask you to talk about your relationship again unless she’s depressed and needing a pick-me-up served as “Well, at least I don’t have her abusive relationship. Mine suddenly doesn’t look that bad.” Eventually you’ll realize this, and then you’ll find a best-friend who doesn’t make you feel like your marriage is something to be ashamed of.

It Doesn’t Always Happen This Way… Does it?This is what your friends will more-than-likely think of when you tell them you let your husband spank you. Not pretty, is it? Is it hard to talk them out of this image? Astoundingly so.

Of course not. It sometimes works out amazingly well. I mean, amazing as in there’s no awkwardness and now you can talk about your relationship all you want, and it’s no big deal.

Right now, the only time it’s worked out is when we told James’ baby sister. She knows. She knows everything about everything we do, and she didn’t even bat an eye. She’s like a rock. And because of this, I feel so much closer to her. I decided that that’s it–she’s family now. She’s my sister, not just my in-law. She’s the coolest chick I know. I enjoy liking her. I enjoy hearing about her day. I enjoy that I can be totally candid with someone for once. I feel utterly protective of her, I love her to death, and if she’s not happy, I’m not happy. It sounds ridiculous, maybe, but because she was the only person I’ve told who reacted in a non-negative way, I feel grateful, relieved, and I actually look forward to it when she comes visiting, like she will next week. She never made any claims that she was open-minded, but her actions speak louder than words.

Though even then I think it worked because she loves her big brother, looks up to him, and she knows that he wouldn’t beat me, that he’s not abusive, and he’s a good guy. I didn’t have to convince her of anything on that account; she’s known him all her life.

Let’s just say it’s easier to get your husband’s friends and family to accept it far, far more than your own. It’s not that you should tell his side BEFORE you come out to your side, it’s that you probably should come out to his side INSTEAD of your side.

I just thought I’d put this post out there for people who know I’m in a DD relationship like them, and they’re filled with a measure of hope because they hate keeping such a major part of their lives hidden from their family and friends, and want to come out about it. They think that because I do spanking work full-time, I must be “out of the closet”.

I hate to kill hope, I can’t give them the advice they want or tell them it’s all gonna end in bubble-gum and lollipops after they just get who they are and what they do off their chests.

You see,  I’m a hermit. I almost have no friends anymore, and I do a lot of mysterious conversation-diversion away from myself to avoid talking about anything I do. I allow people to think I’m not successful at all and sit at home all day eating bon-bons and watching television. I lie to a lot of people’s faces, and I tell a lot of half-truths. I hate it, I hate that I have to do that, and I’m lonely most of the time. I go to Spanking Parties just to be “OUT” for a goddamned weekend and feel what it’s like to feel like everyone else does: like they’re not hiding this deep, dark secret. It feels fantastic, but I’m still not going to come out to everyone because I’ve been bitten in the ass a few times by it.

Do I regret DD? To I regret being a spanko? Hell no–I love James. I’d lay down in traffic for James, and James and I wouldn’t have ever even met if we weren’t both spankos who favored DD relationships/lifestyle and wanted it a part of our lives. It’s not a choice, anyway–being a spank-o is built in deep to my genes, and my DD relationship is a key ingredient as to why our relationship is so strong. Without this part of my life, I wouldn’t be ME. For now, I just have to wait, be patient, and hope that my world fills with other people like me or at least like my sis-in-law.

My family has a saying, “If you don’t want a crocodile to come and bite you, don’t hang your ass over them.” So to those of you ladies who want to go for it, allow me to cheer you on. I wish you all the luck in the world, because unfortunately you’re going to need all that luck.

Rough Drafts are a messy business...

Rough Drafts are a messy business…

Don’t worry. I haven’t stopped writing my Ageplay NOR have I stopped plotting out Otherworldly Discipline, Book Two. Everything is as scheduled.

I thought you guys would get a hoot out of this. Remember, for every book I write, I have dozens of other versions of the final product that never saw the light of day, nor are they likely to.

When I was eighteen, although I’d written some Newsie fanfics–I couldn’t help myself, Newsies came out when I was seven so it was very age-appropriate for me to do at the time–I lamented that I would never finish a novel. I worried that I was under some sort of Greek-like hell-sentence where I was doomed to rework the first five chapters of a story over and over again and never see anything finished.


Obviously, I’m fine now. I can finish books okay, it’s just the hard part of my job, that’s all. After I finish a book I tend to spend a couple of weeks trying out new writing methods or a new style, or even a new way of story-telling or a really dramatic plot that I never plan to finish because of complexity, etc.

This is the first chapter of my FIRST rendition of Otherworldly Discipline. There’s actually a chapter two written as well, but to get that, I’m going to need 10 comments from you guys. So if you want more… You need to let me know. I’m trying to test this out so you all don’t get sick of me cluttering up your email boxes with my rough-drafts. 

Alright, now to start off: The plot’s different. Otherworldly Discipline was refined away from this:

In this rendition, hundreds of years ago there was a really bloody wizarding war. Ashcroft led one side, and Lachlan ran the other. Lachlan was winning the war, and so Ashcroft sealed the entrance to the Otherworld away from the Earthside, trapping Lachlan and his evil legions on one side, and trapping Ashcroft in the Otherworld. The two realms are separates by a mystical river (called “The Gates”) that both sides are able to enter, but let’s just say neither Lachlan or Ashcroft could completely cross to the opposite sides. 

Charlotte’s creation was ordered by Caden (under Caden–that’s what Lachland was originally named before I got a wild hair up my ass to change it) to have two specific servants to come together and boast a child who could break down the gates back into the Otherworld where he can recharge a lot of his powers and let out the Otherworldly creatures on Earthside and continue to try to reclaim power. Caden would just need to have sex with her and temporary have the power to get into the Otherworld.

Her parents got cold-feet after she was born, and instead of letting Caden wait until she was big enough for him to use essentially like a sex-slave, they ran with her and was in hiding all her childhood, moving place to place to keep her hidden. Eventually they were found and killed. Charlotte got away and has been trying to eke out an existence as a nurse while trying to keep herself hidden, happy, and comfortable while she’s trying to hide from Caden. 

If she marries Ashcroft, the magical connection would allow her to go into the Otherworld and him to go onto Earthside once more–Ashcroft had created a magic ring that she only has to put on a particular finger of hers for him to have this connection with her. But Charlotte’s hesitant to A) marry him, of course and B) Let Ashcroft out of his cage which would restart the wizarding war… Which would be much more dangerous to people than it was four-hundred years ago when the Earthside wasn’t quite so complicated. 

See what I mean? Complicated. 😉 Enjoy… if you dare to delve into my roughest work…

CHAPTER ONE

Charlotte fancied herself a horrible witch, but now she was beginning to realize she was also a horrible negotiator. She was cold—she had been standing in river water up to her knees for nearly three hours now, hoping to find someone who’d trade with her.

And the only person; or rather, thing that showed up at all was Moriarty, who’s amused wolf eyes studied her as she shivered.

She was not so amused. She slammed her foot down, causing the river water to splash. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” she cried, angry and incredulous.

Moriarty, who loved being the bearer of bad news for his master, grinned, exposing his perfectly white fangs. “Master Ashcroft said if you don’t trade with him, you can’t trade at all,” Moriarty repeated, lowering his head to continue watching her reaction.

Her dark eyebrows nearly knitted together as she glared at him. “Then why did you come at all?” she growled, annoyed.

“I certainly didn’t want to,” Moriarty admitted with a singular, loud laugh. “Master Ashcroft sent me to tell you. He didn’t want you to get blisters on your poor, bare little tootsies while you were out here all day, wondering where everyone was.”

She didn’t seem to care for the sentiment. She wiped away the goose bumps that were developing on her forearms. “You are such a fucking butt-munch, Mutt. Why don’t you go back to your master and ask for a belly rub?” she mocked acidly, hoping to sting him.

She knew Moriarty didn’t like to be referred to as a common mongrel—he was once a very feared werewolf in his day. Even now, at his most-human, he might be scary to the common human with his claws, teeth, and eyes. Still, there was never anything particularly frightening about him as far as Charlotte was concerned. Probably because he dressed like he was on his way to a Northwest coffee bar in his dark fedora hat and matching trench coat.

He just grinned at her as if he was excited by her feistiness. “Hey, I’m not the idiot who tried to steal from him the last time, Sugar Boots,” he reminded with a look of gratification. “You got what you deserved.”

She blushed furiously, realizing that Moriarty—the most annoying creature she had ever come across anywhere—was perfectly aware of her shame. He knew that Ashcroft spanked her two weeks ago… Spanked her like a goddamn five-year-old who stole a cookie from a forbidden jar.

“He charges too high,” she defended, her teeth gritted.

“And I bet he spanks real hard, too…” he mocked. He laughed at her increasingly upset reaction. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under and properly buried already. “I would have done anything to have seen it.”

She swallowed hard, hating the bullying. She wasn’t used to it—she never lived in a place long enough to acquire real friends or any enemies at all, which she realized left her a little thin-skinned. Maybe that’s why it  hurt so much when she realized that Ashcroft wasn’t quite the friend she thought he was.

Of course, he probably thought the same thing about her by now. She hadn’t realized what a show-stopper stealing from Ashcroft was going to be, or the look she would receive when he had discovered that she stole the Elixer of Polaris without his knowledge. Truth be told, she had already inwardly celebrated getting away with it. But then he shot her that look, and she knew that he’d realized what she’d done, and fear had struck through her body clear to the bone.

Her first notion was to get her ass as far away from him as possible. Ashcroft was a powerful Master Wizard—she didn’t want to see him display his talents. And he was absolutely the most frightening man she had ever met—the left side of his face was very, very badly scarred from some sort of wizarding battle years ago. Almost as if a tiger had attacked him, but was careful not to hurt the right side—that side of him was so frightening that all she did was shake and quiver when she first met him. And then, with his eyes blazing wildly, she feared him anew.

All she had had to do was make it to her bank of the Gates River. The Gates was shallow—only ankle-deep in their regular meeting place. She was nearly frightened enough of him to want to just run across the surface of the water like they do in cartoon movies.

As some as you know, Moriarty wasn't always part fox; he used to be a werewolf, and was very self-conscious about it.. So even though he's giving me all sorts of shit about me not finishing my book yet, I just want everyone to know that if I left it like this, the dog-jokes would have never stopped. ;)

As some as you know, Moriarty wasn’t always part fox; he used to be a werewolf, and was very self-conscious about it.. So even though he’s giving me all sorts of shit about me not finishing my book yet, I just want everyone to know that if I left it like this, the dog-jokes would have never stopped. 😉

But he was fast… Very, very unnaturally fast, and grabbed her wrist from behind. The sudden launch had sent her face-first into the river. She gasped when he jerked her back into standing, now looking like a drenched alley cat.

For a moment, she was certain he looked guilty for her fall. He cursed under his breath as he firmly pulled her over to a boulder that they usually met at. It jutted quite far out of the river, well enough to sit upon. “Damned idiot,” he grumbled, furious.

“Look, Ashcroft, let’s be rational about this…” she begged, not knowing what he planned to do with her but quite certain it was going to be some sort of punishment. Even him searching her body for the stolen vial was going to be a humiliating violation.

Unfortunately for her, Ashcroft had not been in the mood to be ‘rational’. Just as she was trying to wring the water out of her sleeve, Ashcroft unbuttoned and unzipped the front of her pants. He was already completed in the task before she realized that he was stripping her. She grabbed his hands, scrunching her body forward so he wouldn’t see her exposed underwear, but it wasn’t much of a wrestling match. He easily was able to free his hands enough, and when he did, he yanked her pants clear down to her knees, leaving her to only cover her front before she was tossed over his knees.

She cried out wordlessly, trying to push herself back into standing, but he had a good, firm arm around her waist, and had suddenly become aware that Ashcroft was in charge, and she was at his mercy.

And then the spanking had commenced. Ashcroft’s hands she had never really given a thought to before that moment. Now all sorts of opinions about them were flying into her head: big, calloused, firm, hard, and uninvited, but slapping down on her exposed rear end firmly, causing her to completely lose her breath.

Even though her body had been very wet, her mouth and throat had suddenly felt very dry as she screamed, “OWE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?”

He didn’t answer, but she figured it out quick enough. He was spanking her, and he was good at it. She had only seen spankings in mainstream movies when growing up—maybe a couple of swats on the rear-end during Little House on the Prairie. Now she was actually experiencing one, to her indignity. She was shivering and crying at the same time, trying to get a full sentence out, but her brain went numb with all the humiliation. “Please, please!” she begged finally, her throat hurt as her eyes began to swell up with tears. “I’m so sorry!”

“Damn right you’re sorry. You’re gonna be a whole lot sorrier before we’re through here, little girl!” he had muttered back angrily over her cries. “You’re lucky I haven’t taken off my belt and strapped you raw! I give you everything you’ve ever asked for, and you repay me with trickery, falseness, thievery… You stole from me while looking me in the eye!”

She had wondered if him taking off his belt and strapping her raw would feel any different from what he was doing. She didn’t know if her bottom could be in any more pain; she had to be at a sort of threshold. He poor posterior was already throbbing—his hand felt like a dozen bee stings. She made another move to try to scramble off of his knee, but he held her firmly and pinned back her arms to the small of her back, trapping all of her movements. “Please don’t torture me, Ash! I’m sorry. Don’t kill me!”

“I’m giving your naughty hide a good tanning, Girl, one you’ve needed for quite awhile!” he had corrected grimly. His voice was brackish, booming. It was somehow louder than the echoing slap on her poor red flanks or her breathy, frantic sobs. “Next time you steal from me, you’d better her away with it. If I catch you again, you won’t sit down for a year. You hear me, Charlotte?”

She had cried in the affirmative—she heard him loud and clear. But he still spanked her, on and on… She was blind with tears in no time, sobbing like a lost child.

Finally, just when she figured it never would, it ended. As soon as he let her arms go, she used every last ounce of energy left in her and scrambled away from him, pulling her pants up more quickly than she had ever done before, terrified that he would see any more of her skin.

She wiped her eyes against her sleeve just so she could see through the tears, and saw that his hand was extended expectantly, open-palmed.

She  had reached quickly into her pocket and pulled out the stolen vial, slapping it into his hand so quickly it was as if she was afraid his hand would bite her. His fingers closed up around the vial and he slowly, gently placed it into the satchel handing on his waist. Unlike her, Ashcroft looked very calm.

“Hopefully we learned something today?” he had said simply like a wearied school teacher.

“I hate you,” she had hissed, her eyes beat red and puffy as she wiped them on her sleeve again.

“Next time we meet,” he began slowly, patiently. “I want you to greet me with a heart-felt apology,” he informed. “This is not optional.”

“I’m never coming to this shithole ever again!” she had declared, loud enough that the whole forest could witness her statement. She had meant it at the time—she couldn’t think very far into the future. Her mind had only been able to think of the swollen pain and heat radiating from her bottom.

His jaw had twitched, but then his lips curled into something that resembled a grin. “You need me a lot more than I need you,” he reminded confidently. “You’ll be back. Hopefully you’ll be a little wiser for ware when you do.” He pushed himself off the stone and trudged past her to his side of the river, leaving her to glare after him, soaked, sore, and insulted.

Now, three whole months later, she was not soaked or looking at all like a well-spanked brat. She held up her head high rolling her eyes to Moriarty. “Can you please go and explain to your master the fact that monopolies are illegal in all civilized countries and cultures, and pretty much only super-villains and the NFL are exempt?”

“He knows already,” Moriarty assured, shrugging. “He watches a LOT of CNN. Besides, we don’t live in a civilized country, Charlotte. Welcome to Otherworld,” he reminded, raising both hands to gesture to everything around him. “The rules here are largely created and enforced by the one-and-only Master Ashcroft, at least in this little plot of land we call home.” He laughed when he saw how angry she was becoming as he lectured her pedantically. “You know this, Sweet Lips. You shouldn’t have pissed him off. Picked up a book a manners or common sense, maybe.”

“Oh, I pissed him off, huh?” she countered, placing her hands firmly on her hips. “He’s the one that beat me, Fido.”

The ‘Fido’ landed—she could see him squint slightly. “He certainly could have beaten you if he’d wanted. Instead, he SPANKED you, which is more befitting for an ungrateful, talent-less whelp like yourself!”

“Oh, I’m an ungrateful whelp?” she snorted. “He’s making me destitute! Pretty soon all I’ll have left to pay him is my first born child!”

“Based on who your parents were,” Moriarty continued in a growl. “You’re lucky he trades with you at all. If you met me first, I would have gladly eaten you without question.”

“Eaten me?” she scoffed. Moriarty was just as likely to eat her as a Golden Retriever was. “You’d be more likely to have humped my leg!”

“One more dog joke, Sweet Cheeks, and I’ll…” he grumbled despite her grinning. She loved getting him upset—he looked likely to blow his lid.

“Or you’ll what? Go and piddle on the rug?” she continued.

He snarled at her.

“Don’t antagonize him,” Ashcroft’s thick, business-like voice said from the tree line. He appeared from the nearby and strolled into the river. “And you,” he said, pointing to Moriarty. “You know better than to talk to a lady that way.”

Moriarty turned his neck and looked down angrily at the ground, looking very chided, but not very sorry.

“Go on now,” Ashcroft said, nodding towards the tree line.

Moriarty’s face scrunched and he kicked the ground as he walked back up onto the bank. “Hopefully you just need the privacy to give her another sound thrashing,” he muttered.

Ashcroft just ignored him and settled his gaze on Charlotte. When Moriarty was out of sight, Ashcroft turned and looked squarely at her. “You know he doesn’t like pet jokes,” he lectured her. “They actually hurt his feelings.”

“That was the point,” she assured, looking as unremorseful as she could manage. “Thanks for telling him all the intimate details, by the way,” she said snidely.

“I barely even mentioned it to him. He has quite the imagination, though. If you don’t want to be spanked, Charlotte, I suggest you never do anything like that again.” He paused in his lecture and narrowed his eyes. “And I haven’t heard your apology yet.”

“That’s because you’re not gonna get one,” she informed. “But I’ll accept yours at anytime, Two-Face.” She delighted in the wince of pain he made when she called him that. He was so self-conscious about his four-hundred year old wound that she wouldn’t be surprised if he had stopped looking in mirrors all that time. She continued, “I hope it follows along the lines of apologizing for completely stepping over your bounds and making yourself a giant ass.”

He seemed incredulous, even shocked, at hearing that. It obviously wasn’t what he expected. Even after four years of trading with Charlotte, meeting with her every week, giving her a thousand lectures, tons of advice, and hundreds of hours of company, he still wasn’t used to the childish way she conducted herself with. He opened his mouth to lecture her, or maybe to threaten—it’s quite uncertain since he obviously thought better of it and calmed himself visibly by taking a deep, frustrated breath. “So you don’t want to trade, then, Brat?”

She ground her teeth together angrily. She HAD to trade—her life was too dangerous and too chaotic NOT to use magic, and she was too horrible of a witch, with no control of her powers, to even try to get on without potions. “No, I want to trade,” she grumbled, kicking the nearly-still water in the stream with her foot.

He raised his eyebrows, looking expectant.

“Are you serious?” she blanched, unable to believe that she actually had to apologize for making him spank her.

“And when you apologize, you will address me as master,” he added aloofly.

She physically refrained from laughing aloud, and knew that he could see it. When his eyes darkened, she stopped thinking it was so funny and felt rather insulted. “I don’t think so, Obi-Wan,” she sneered.

“You will call me master until you agree to marry me,” he directed crisply.

She groaned and put a hand over her eyes. “Oh, geez. Not this again…” He had proposed so many countless times that she wondered if he’d ever stop. He didn’t love her—he did nothing but snap at her and lecture her. Any affection that he showed her was not loving; it was more paternal than anything else.

“Charlotte, you need me as an ally. You need me to protect you,” he reminded firmly. “I’m tired of playing primary-school games with you.”

“You are my ally,” she said, straightening her shoulders, calling his bluff. “Be you a horribly grumpy, know-it-all, abusive ally…”

“I am stuck here in the Otherworld,” he reminded her grimly. “And I will remain here until you put that ring,” he pointed to a ruby ring that twisted intricately around her right hand’s ring finger, “on that finger.” He pointed to her left hand’s ring finger. “I am worthless to you, otherwise.”

She knew this. She could not enter the Otherworld beyond the Gates, and he could not enter the Earthside beyond the Gates, not unless they were married.

She looked at the ring and sighed. She put it on when she was eighteen and stupid and he gave it to her as if it was a had been a regular gift–like a scarf or a gift-card. Little did she know that she had put on an enchanted ring, which also meant she couldn’t get the ring off without the whole finger going. The only way she could get the ring off was if she actually meant to activate it by moving it to her ring finger… Somehow the ring would know her intentions, and it was far too clever to be fooled. She thought it was cute before all this, but since it had become a pain. The ring seemed to always snag on her favorite quilt, and didn’t match all of her outfits, it being adorned by a massive ruby.

“I’m dating someone right now,” she reminded, sounding prouder and prouder about it.

He stared at her blankly, looking exhausted by her games.

“Three months now,” she added sing-songishly. It was her first relationship EVER with ANYONE.

Still, he stared blankly at her.

“I can’t tell—is that look jealousy or… Anger? Or are you wondering if you left the oven on back home or something?” she griped mockingly, although she stepped away from him.

“When you’re afraid, you insult me. I’m trying to figure out where you think that will get you.” His tone was ominous, threatening. He pointed at the river floor in front of his feet. “Come here.”

She looked up and down the river, considering. “No.”

“Girl, you have about three seconds to come here and apologize to me, or you will apologize with a sore bottom. I don’t care if Moriarty hears, and he will, because I will spank you soundly.”

She blushed, surprised by how fast her throat constricted. “You’re a bully, Ashcroft,” she told him.

“One,” was all he said.

She scurried to fill the few feet that separated them, even though she would have far preferred scurrying in the other direction. “I’m sorry I stole from you,” she said quickly in an exasperated sigh.

“Two.”

Her heart quickly started beating. “Please, Ash, don’t,” she begged quietly, swallowing hard.

His lips formed to say ‘three’, and she found herself wringing her hands on the front of his tunic desperately. “Master,” she panted, all the snark leaving her body in a rush, “please forgive me. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry..” She began to shiver harder than she was before, as if the closeness of him was making her even more chilled to the bone.

Her shoulders constricted after she’d made his apology, expecting him to laugh at her. She stared at his chest, ashamed at how chicken she was.  But he cupped her chin in his rough hand and brought her eyes up to look at him. “If only you could get over my face, you wouldn’t be so frightened of me. And then you’d marry me.” He stroked her cheek soothingly with his thumb.

She felt like grimacing. She knew beauty was only skin deep. Still, even if his left side looked like his right, and he was handsome, she would still be shivering right now. “Your face isn’t the most frightening thing about you, Master Ashcroft,” she assured. “And I’m only twenty two–I’m too young for marriage, in any case.”

“When I was twenty-two I had three human children running around by my ankles,” he reminded her, patting her cheek softly before he dropped his arm.

She couldn’t imagine Ashcroft married to a human girl, having human children, pretending to be a human noble man. Every time he told her that he had been married several times already, her mind seemed to blank from the image.

“Those were different times,” she reminded. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. I can’t even keep a goldfish alive.”

“That’s because you’re still a child,” he reminded her, looking her up and down with a very hard expression. “I should have spanked you a thousand times in the last four years, but I didn’t even think you were mature enough to learn from it. I was wrong.”

She was embarrassed by this, and wished she hadn’t given into the fear of spanking so easily. She feared that him feeling a spanking would help her learn or listen was the beginning of a very ominous new relationship with him. “You’re not my father,” she reminded tersely.

He seemed to boil at the idea. His response became more and more snappish as he carried on, “No. Your father was overly kind to you and negligent. To me, he was overly conniving and wicked. Your parents did their worst with you—they sheltered you and hid you and didn’t teach you what you needed to know to defend yourself. They were fools. They left you in the wake of the storm and didn’t even have the decency to instill respect nor fear into you.”

Aschroft had been in dark moods before, but she had never actually seen him turn moods right in front of her. She had also heard him harangue the memory of her parents before. They were his enemies for centuries, after all… But he had never seemed so bitingly ferocious about it.

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He locked his jaw with annoyance.

She was bent over his hip a moment later, and wondering how he’d gotten her into that position so easily. He was lighting into her bottom with his firm hand and kept her in place by curling his free arm tightly around her waist.  He didn’t explain why he was doing this, except that she was beginning to fear, through her sharp whines and struggles, that spanking her had caused him gratification she normally didn’t allow him to feel.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Master!” she apologized, praying that he wouldn’t pull her pants down. God knows, Moriarty was probably watching from a viewpoint somewhere.

He let her go just as quickly as he had grabbed her. She stumbled backwards, wheeling her arms around, but he caught her before she fell backwards into the water and let her regain her balance. She rubbed at her bottom.

“You will learn to talk civilly to me,” he told her. “And you listen to me, because I know your world better than you do. I want you to stop this foolish, ridiculous, inappropriate façade you share with your current boyfriend. You will relocate. You will change your name again. You will…”

“Inappropriate façade?” she coughed back.

He didn’t look like someone who believed he misspoke.

Tears began to swell up in her eyes. “I love Nathan! He treats me well. I’m happy for once…”

He gruffly took booth of her shoulders in his hand and gave her a firm shake. “Something evil is hanging over you, Charlotte. Caden will come after you; he will never rest. And I cannot protect you. You have to take precautions!”

Charlotte’s face dropped again, and he heard her sniffle. She did not cry easily. It shamed him to be harsh with her, and he tugged her to his body and held her there. He kissed her hair, breathing her in. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that you’re not spoiled, despite the whimsical way you act. Your problem is that you don’t know much happiness,” he admitted tenderly. “And you don’t understand how happy I could make you.”

“I like Nathan,” she said into his chest.

He rubbed her back with his hand. “When I gave you the ring, I hoped that you would come to love me, and put it on when you did. But I see that won’t happen; not that way. You will find yourself in a position you cannot get out of, and you will put it on so I might come rescue you. And I will… But you must keep yourself alive by the time I get there.”

She pulled gently out of his embrace and nodded. “I promise to be safe, Master.” She blushed as she said it—it sounded so odd, but she was rewarded when Ashcroft actually smiled… at least the corners of his mouth went up, which was a lot better than she had done the last four years. Still, she admitted, “But don’t hold your breath for me. I don’t wanna be married.”

He made a sound in his throat—almost a chuckle, as if he thought she was being ridiculous. He pulled a vial out of his satchel and put it into her hands. It was the elixir of Polaris she had stolen from him.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. “How much…” she began, put he put his hand up and silenced her.

“I was thinking after our last meeting that our relationship is very, very flawed. We are not on equal grounds. You are a young little witchling, and I am a Master Wizard. It is my duty and privilege to protect and guide you as long as you submit to me, whether you are my wife or not. It is my honor to provide gifts for you—not make trade after trade like some common merchant farmer.”

She looked down at the vial with confusion. “I should have let you spank me earlier,” she suddenly laughed, amazed that she didn’t have to trade the last of the gold she was able to scrounge together and buy with her measly paycheck.

“It’s not your position to let me do anything,” he informed sternly.

She wanted to protest that, but she was quite interested in riding this gravy-train for a couple of stops, at least. “Whatever you say, Master.”

“Your address of me needs to sound a little more comfortable on your tongue,” he chided, but she could tell he was happier with her than not. He pinched her cheek and turned to leave to his side of the bank. He turned his head just enough to call back. “I’ll see you in one week for the full moon. This is not optional.”

“Nothing’s EVER optional with you, Ash,” she snorted, turning to head up the river, though she didn’t walk very quickly. She had never been so late for a date with Nathan before, but she needed a little while to shake off the mix of emotions from her encounter. “Weird,” she muttered to herself, and put the vial into her pocket.

–So concludes Otherworldly Discipline, Version One, Draft One Written April 08, 2011. Remember to comment if you actually do want a second chapter. 😉 

So, I was working on a fantasy age-play story called “Princess Babygirl” That I had to put on the back hopper. I don’t think I have what it takes to make it work out… Not yet. It’s become a strange narrative challenge that I’m working up the skill to do. I’ll get there, and will probably pick it up again later in the summer.
I was going through my old Character Sheets, and found this one under “Age Play”. It’s something I started last summer and quit soon after I started because it wasn’t panning out. Well…. Now it is. As you can see, we’re already at 40,000 words. How long have I been writing it? Since last Saturday afternoon! That ain’t bad. The best thing is that I can keep pretty much all I’ve written it. It’s a little long-winded at parts but I like how it’s  going so far. I’ll probably cap it at about 60 or 80,000. MAYBE 90. We’ll see where we are next Saturday.

So what’s all this?

The working title is called, ‘Being Their Baby‘, but I’m going to more than likely change it to something better, less creepy and more marketable. It’s a contemporary ageplay situation devised among a polyamorous household. Sophie Lynn Sutton, a young, poor little thing from the other side of the tracks, finds herself in a romantic relationship for the first time in her life, with a woman who already has two boyfriends, and those boyfriends really want to complete the circle by being Sophie’s boyfriends as well. Although she has a lot of miserable history she has to shed from her life, the Hobbes Brothers and their lifelong girlfriend, Elizabeth Button, guide Sophie through ageplay and helps her realize her own potential.
Still–I promise Otherworldly Discipline will totally be out on June 21st. But give me a break–I never write for this long this quickly without throwing half of it away. 🙂
I thought I’d share with you the character sheet that started it all. I’ve been shacked up with these people ever since. It’s been really interesting!!

Elizabeth Button:

Elizabeth Button

Elizabeth Button is a famous lawyer in Boston who also can be quite a ‘sex bot’—as in there’s absolutely nothing cute about her. She’s 100% sexy, sophisticated, graceful, and intelligent. She’s tall (6-feet tall and she wears red high-heels (her trademark–she’s professionally nicknamed ‘The Devil in Red Heels)) and in good shape.

She’s also a “true Bi”, meaning that she doesn’t want to have a relationship with any one woman or any one man, but she doesn’t prefer one over the other. She’s a well-known lawyer, so she could probably have any woman she wanted. BUT she adores women (and men) that she can dominate and control.

The “Mommy” role is what she particularly likes with women, because it makes it so she doesn’t feel she has to compete with them and gives her the motivation not to be lax with herself. Because of this, she’s very into age-play, but she’d die before accepting the ‘little girl’ role for herself. She’d have driven herself crazy within five minutes.

She’s not afraid of commitment, but she is afraid of labels, so she doesn’t want to marry, even though Charlie has asked a million times and offers her an open relationship. She likes to stay because she wants to, not because of any obligation.

Her relationship with the Hobbs brothers is interesting simply because she grew up with them. She and Charlie are the same age, and they knew each other since they were three years old. They also lost their virginity to each other (when they were fifteen). They always dated, but they never dated exclusively, although Charlie has proposed to Elizabeth regularly since he was eighteen. The problem with Charlie is, even though he knows how to very efficiently bring her to orgasm, he will not give up his dominance for one microsecond. He doesn’t even like her being “on top” because he feels out of control, and thus out of his element. This is really too bad, because she really enjoys being in control. Thus, every time she has sex with Charlie it is actually somewhat violent and rape-y, because Charlie has to “make” her submit to him in bed; she’s not going to do it on her own free will.

This is where Josh Hobbs comes in—he’s very playful, and three years younger than Liz and Charlie. He doesn’t mind Liz taking the dom-role because he feels everything she does is sexy, and he assures that he feels fortunate just to take part. (It was a little hard to get used to in the beginning, but he quite likes it now, although she doesn’t know that). He’s mischievous and funny, but he does draw a line that he does not like Liz to “punish” him (although she’ll threaten it and it will give him pause) and he will not play the part of “little boy” for her, even if he will allow her to have the reigns during sex.

She doesn’t love one man above the other, although she sees them wrestle a bit for her attention, but she doesn’t like to think about her life without both of them with her.

Sophia (Sophie) Lynn Sutton:Sophie Lynn Sutton

Sophie’s “pocket sized”—very petite and only 4’10”. She works hard, but she’s always appeared years younger than she is, and she’s never been very schooled in hair and beauty, and so it’s hard for her to make herself up so that she looks older.

She’s seventeen at very the beginning of the book but quickly moves into eighteen during the first chapter before her first spanking from Liz occurs. She’s been working at Liz’s firm as a mail clerk since she was sixteen, and is getting antsy because she can’t find a way to move up, and her boss is less than encouraging. Her grandfather (44 yrs old) and her step-father (33 years old) are the only two male-influences she’s ever had, and they’re both abusive (they didn’t molest her or spank her, but they’d punch her or slap her around), mean, alcoholics that can barely hold down a job, so she has worked to support her mother and step-father’s growing family (she has 5 younger siblings, all under ten years old). She dropped out of high-school when she turned 16, midway through her Sophomore year, and dropped out of a social-life right along with it.

Although she’d held down two jobs to come up with over 20,000 a year, dispite only earning minimum wage, she lost one of her jobs right before Thanksgiving (in the beginning of the book),  so her money situation’s become desperate. Elizabeth helped her out with a gift-card to buy a coat with, which only led to her getting “worked on” by her stepfather because he became aware that she was “holding out” with it. The situation led to her getting tossed out of her mother’s apartment. Since she had no savings (her parents took all of her money), no credit card, and she was only seventeen, she left her house but, since she didn’t have any friends or anyone to help, she stayed in the attic of her firm’s business complex, sleeping amongst dusty and forgotten-about supplies, hoping nobody would notice.

She idol-worships Elizabeth Button, and has for years, wishing to become her and actually likes being noticed by her. Unfortunately, she feels that Elizabeth noticing her only happens because of pity, and Sophie has a very strong sense of pride about ‘doing stuff for herself’ and ‘making her own way’. She’s always been nothing but ashamed when Elizabeth keeps offering to help her out, and abjectly refuses.

She gets arrested on her eighteenth birthday for trying to sell her virginity for a high price… To an undercover cop (he’d seemed like the cleanest option at the time). After sitting in a jail-cell for a couple of days, Elizabeth’s help seemed somehow more alluring than keeping her already-cripples pride on its feet. At last, Sophie called Liz to come bail her out.

When Elizabeth has her live in the guest room, she quickly discovers that Elizabeth actually loves her… Romantically. Even though she doesn’t view any other woman with as sexual, she immediately finds it easy to do with Elizabeth. Hell, she’s honored that Elizabeth could ever like a little piece of street-trash like she was! Of course she would want a relationship with her hero once it was on the table—it was like a dream come true… Except that a relationship with Elizabeth comes at a price. Elizabeth is the boss, Elizabeth makes the rules, and Elizabeth is judge-jury-and-executioner to those rules, and is quite the disciplinarian! And not just that–Sophie has to actually “share” Elizabeth with her two ultra-successful boyfriends in the house who make no bones that they want to have an “unusual” relationship with her as well.

She’s a very nervous person, and she’s shy and weary of strangers, but she doesn’t judge at all, and she knows that she’s a naive person so she doesn’t even know what’s normal or not in the upper and middle classes. This makes her someone who’s able just to let someone else take the lead and guide her through most sexual things and even is why she allows discipline.

She gets along with Josh, who is a warm-mannered and kind of goofy, before she warms up to Charlie, who is very dominant and lectures her constantly. Eventually she starts viewing Charlie has her ‘Daddy’ since he takes care of her, and even protects her–even when her crazy relatives come calling.

Charlie Hobbes:Charlie Hobbes

(6’3”, 220 lbs) He used to be a Football Great… Until some asshole pounded him to the left so hard that he dislocated his shoulder and damaged one of his nerves. Although he can do most things still, he could never get his throw back. The injury his football career, but then he went right into sport journalism, and because of his popularity, he quickly became one of the top-line football broadcasters for ESPN.

It’s okay—he has Liz keep him looking smooth in suits and ties now, and whenever he wants to hit something, he just goes to play amateur hockey with his little brother’s team.

That being said, he being a quarterback since he was fifteen has made him a control-freak. Okay, really, even before he was a quarterback he was on the path to being a ‘Dom’. Now, he loves being in charge, especially of the woman he’s with. Mixed with paternal instincts and seriously lacking the motivation to procreate, Charlie found his perfect fit right out of college when he got his first ‘little girl’, but really it’s been a string of heartbreak one after the other, ending with his most recent encounter, Lacey, who was his girl for two years before she dumped him for some vanilla sleazezoid.

He’s a two-woman man, but not a three-woman man. He likes the chase Liz gives him, and loves her to death as his best friend and as the hottest fuck imaginable, but she doesn’t give him what he wants easily—he always has to earn it. He has to really work to dominate her, because Liz is not a submissive and never will be. And he likes having a ‘little girl’ because he can dominate her, and even get in his embarrassment and innocence fetish and let loose with his overwhelming paternal side. But more women than that seems not only exhausting, but unnecessary.

It’s all he needs, although every now and then he lies to himself, thinking that Liz would be enough even though deep down he knows they’d both be miserable in a “closed” relationship. They’d tried it every-so-often in their lives, and it always ended up frustrating and nearly wrecking their friendship.

Joshua Hobbes:Joshua Hobbes

(6’2” 210 lbs)

He’s just that fun-loving guy who lives in your guesthouse out back. Talk about a go-with-the-flow kinda guy!

He’s three years younger than Charlie but acts like he’s ten years younger. He’s in OBY/GYN, but you’d never know he was a doctor just looking at him because he’s such a goofball.

Like Charlie, he does have a gruff side—but hockey has been a great outlet for him to let off his steam and access energy.

He loves Liz, and Liz loves him, especially because she can have him however (and let’s face it—whenever) she wants him, unlike Charlie. If she needs the lead in the bedroom, he gives it to her. That being said, if Joshua tells her to do something OUTSIDE of the bedroom, she’ll do it… Simply because he hardly ever orders anyone around—he’s just not that type of guy.

Because they sort of grew up together, Liz was sort of his first wet-dream. By the time he was eight-years-old, he was writing love-poetry to her… which made his older brother beat him up a few times, but he kept doing it. Somehow, when he was fourteen, he was able to seduce the young (then) seventeen-year-old into taking his virginity from him. That only intensified his infatuation with her.

He’s always been extremely cool about the age-play and sharing of Liz, and when it comes to the girls he normally has an invitation to play an “Uncle Josh” role, and he actually really enjoys it. Mostly because this is the only time he can play the dominant card during sex, (unless it be with one of the bimbos he brings home). That being said; he’s fun Uncle Josh that normally just gets to spoil his brother’s “little girls”; he has been known to give a spanking, but he’s really just as happy to watch… In fact, he likes watching an awful lot; he does have a spanking fetish, but he’s sort of too lazy to really have a relationship like that.

Unlike Charlie, he does like himself a good one-night stand and dates often, but he also never plans to have kids and he doesn’t even plan to move out of the guest house since he’s so attached to Liz (and his brother) and doesn’t want to ever leave her… Ever. He would follow her to the ends of the Earth! Though, it’s hard to say who takes care of who more—a lot of times it seems like Josh takes more care of Liz than the other way around.

Hello my delicious, wonderful little blog-readers, you. I have a special treat for you today because my good personal friend Breanna Hayse is here to talk to you about all sorts of naughty stuff. Everybody’s excited, I know, because Bree’s awesome and her writings are seriously naughty. BUT here’s why we’re extra-special privileged: her next book is gonna teach us a few new things.

When Breanna was hinting that there’d be all this BDSM stuff and pony girl play, I was really thinking: Yikes! BDSM’S SCARY.

I know, I know. My advice is always to write as naughty as possible, and I mean it, but I’m squeamish. I’m squeamish about most things, actually. I’m sort of a wuss. I don’t even really like my nipples pinched. Oh, like, James pinches them anyway, but I don’t like it and my nipples don’t either. So, let’s just say, my nerves resemble chicken feces.

So I was the first reader of Bree’s Blindfolded, and was pleasantly surprised. I mean, tons of stuff I don’t like she put in there… But it wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be. The relationship between the main characters make it all worth while. As I was telling her husband, “Blindfolded sort of shows off the Bright Side of BDSM”… It’s not murky, it’s not scary, it’s just hot and kinky as hell. She writes it in a way that you don’t think, “Oh, the poor girl!” like I do with so many other BSDM stories. It’s exciting without having to pay for it with heebie jeebies. 😉

Now, without any further ado, I’m gonna let Bree take over my blog for the rest of the day. 🙂

* * *

hiyall_breeGuess what! I got a new book coming out… called Blindfolded. Now, I’m not giving away ANY secrets in it except that it deals with some BDSM situations that most of us fantasize about, but would never approach. Plus some really sizzling sex. But then, does that surprise you? LOL!

This book gave me the opportunity to show my reader that BDSM is not about whips, chains and the dungeons. Now, don’t get me wrong… for some, they are part of the lifestyle but not, by any means, all encompassing. BDSM is about trust. It is a way of thinking that can be expressed physically in both pain and pleasure, light and darkness and control and release. It is a process… the way to discover the hidden desires within us and how to bring them forth

In Blindfolded, the heroine is kidnapped, blindfolded, bound and introduced to the very things that she had only dreamed and wrote about in her books. Blind training is the primary theme… teaching how to see without the eyes and, in the process, how to trust that which you cannot see. Scary, huh?

As most of you know, I served in the USMC as an intelligence specialist (no smart ass comments regarding the oxymoron of Marine Intelligence, please). During my training, our unit was subjected to POW interrogation techniques, including sensory deprivation. It was terrifying at first, to say the least. Not just because we could not see what was happening, but also it prevented us from preparing for whatever would happen. The three day exercise brought about some frightening results. Like Regan in Blindfolded, we became completely dependent on our captors for everything and never knew what would befall us. In my particular situation, I developed the insatiable need to please the one who held me prisoner. I became eager to hear the sound of his coming, his voice, the feel of his hands as he led me in the darkness. It was, indeed, and eye opening experience in true submission and the discovery of my natural state of being.

My husband John (who many of you have already met and been charmed by), took me through blind training as well… and this book is the result of the magnificent experience that changed my ability to see and also brought forth a degree of confidence that surprised both of us. He showed me the bright side of BDSM though loving dependance, trust and embracing my fantasies and peculiar little kinks.

Kinks? What kinks? Everyone ‘plays’ the game differently. It depends on so many factors, including how we are ‘wired’, the circumstances at hand, our interpretations of pain vs pleasure, plus those funky things called emotions, needs, and desires.

We also all have different levels of tolerance. For example, Korey is a wimp… she cries if James even looks like he’s gonna spank her. Me? Oh baby, take out the strap and watch me purr. On the other hand, don’t even think of getting near my hoochie with a waxing kit. See what I mean?

I have some shocking things in Blindfolded that I did want to discuss… two in particular. One… nipple piercing. Yes! I DO mention it in Blindfolded… now, before you shudder, remember that there are lots of peeps out there, men and women, who like hard play on the nipples. I don’t have mine pierced (I did do my belly button!) . For many people, nipple rings are not only aesthetically pleasing, but provide sensation that is a major turn on. plus, it provides ‘handles’ for those who like restraints. Nipple clamps are similar, temporary of course, and can be adjusted to different intensities. Now, I DO like those…. the feelings change from pain to pleasure to pain when they are removed. Just watch the blood flow, boys and girls!

Another thing is… hold on… deeep breath... vaginal fisting. OK, before you freak, hear me out. Fisting does NOT mean that nasty Caligula lather up and plunge! Ok… SOME peeps do that, but I don’t recommend it unless you are really prepared. It can damage you. Duh.

Nah, this type is gentle insertion of the fingers, then the hand. Seriously, for you who have had babies.. those heads are TWICE the size of most men’s hands! Why do this? It is the intimacy and the humiliation in knowing he/shes got you and there is no where you can go. Slow… kids… easy, gentle and in she goes!

And that is JUST the beginning of the goodies you’re gonna find in Blindfolded!
Would you like to learn more about this? Gimme a holler!

luvs_bree

 Visit Breanna at her Blog @ www.breannahayse.com

Alright, so this is mostly fictional, of course, because I’m not hallucinating quite yet. That being said, Otherworldly Discipline, Book Two: A Master’s Hand  has been  on my mind big-time this week, and I’m actually feeling a little guilty that I’ve put it off. Low book sales has made it somewhat of a low-priority for me, but I really miss the characters. Anyway–this is sort of what would happen if a character popped in from the Otherworld… Enjoy. -KMJ

Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's LessonI always have a suspicion, when a character writes itself too easily, that it’s going to have trouble letting itself go. Hard-to-write characters and I, you see, have a strained relationship by the end of a project. That’s why I stuck Thorton with a pregnant, mischievous nineteen-year-old wife and triplets at the end of the book… Trust me, he deserved what he got—good n’ hard.

Moriarty never gave me much grief. Oh, sure. He had loved to assure me that the only people wearing my shoes nowadays were hobos,  and he was quite fascinated when I had the worst time deciding if he was Huxian or a werewolf—until he won the argument. He’s not a dog by any means, and I guess it was very insulting to be insinuated as such a few centuries ago.

Anyway, I finished Otherworldly Discipline well over a year ago now, and it’s been all quiet on the Western front. Oh, I dappled with a chapter or two back in October, but then I put it down and started to work on other things.

So, in retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have been so surprised to see Moriarty on my computer last night. And I do mean on my computer. I walked in, and there he was—chocolate eyed and long-fingered, looking through my private folders while simultaneously drinking the last of my k-cup sampler tea and eating my last slice of lemon cake.

At first I thought he had wondered into the wrong apartment but then he looked over and grunted at me in that aloof manner that brought me back. Suddenly I realized who I was looking at. “Moriarty?”

Moriarty looked in my direction, finally. “You know,” he said in lieu of a greeting, his British accent so ridiculously thick and so deep that I was nearly aroused for a moment, “I fear you might have an addiction to pornography. I used to think it was myth, but I’m about to admit that I was actually wrong. I mean, what is this?” He pointed to the screen where two men were in compromising positions with a woman.

“Research,” I replied flippantly, trying not to let my absolute humiliation show. I leaned over his shoulder—I always forget how tall he is, so I had to reach—and shut off my monitor.

“You’ve certainly gotten more perverted since the last time I saw you,” Moriarty commented, arching one of his eyebrows judgmentally.

“And apparently far crazier!” I commented, aghast, throwing my purse in its proper corner. “By the way, I better only be imagining you eating that the last of the cake! I’ve been thinking about it non-stop—”

“Have you ever seen the film Fight-Club?” he answered me with, eating another bite.

I lifted a side of my lip with distaste. “…Yeah.”

“That’s what’s going on here, really,” he assured me, then put the empty plate in front of him and picked up his tea. “So, you’ll never get to enjoy that cake. Just let it go. I’ve come all the way here on important business.” With that, he crossed his long, long legs. He was taking up the whole room! He was actually quite intimidating—he was unquestionably larger than me, and I’ve always thought of myself as quite tall at 5’6’’.  I stared at him; wondering why I never write about midgets.

“Is it about you being a praying mantis?” I asked, sitting in the chair opposite.

He frowned. “You’re not very funny, you know.” He sat up then steadily leaned back; now he was the one assessing me. “The sad thing is that you think you are… It really only comes across as rude and pathetic.”

“Thanks. I needed that ego-boost,” I grumbled, then decided to get up and make coffee. Maybe he’d just disappear… “Why are you here?” I asked. “Last I saw you, I was giving you a sixteen-year vacation between book one and book two. Haven’t you had a gaggle of kids with Alice?”

He gave a laugh. “It would have been a gaggle by now, but after having Cole, we both decided a ten-year breather was essential.”

I grinned mischievously. “You know I thought about giving you quintuplets or something like that.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied, swirling his tea. “You’re sadistic in nature. But see here,” he suddenly said, straightening his back, “I haven’t come to have a tea-party with you, Korey, I—!”

Moriarty_TheMan

Moriarty thinks he’s The Shit with too much hair-product and the fact that he’s got flawless skin, but let me tell you–he’s a dominant man with a hand of steel. He’s also a warrior… But Huxians are fox-shifting tricksters with a pension for seducing virgins and mischief… Or seducing mischievousness virgins… So beware.

I shrugged, “Then why are you drinking tea?”

“Because I’ve been drinking tea for the last seven centuries, as you know quite well! It’s what people from a more sophisticated time and a more sophisticated country do!” I snorted. Springing from a long line of Irish Pub owners that opened its doors early in the morning, I could still say that none of my relations have ever been to his level of ‘sophistication’—not a one of us tea-drinkers. “Now stop being cheeky and avoiding the subject!” he growled at me. “Ashrcroft is gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” I asked, figuring he was only being dramatic. I was fussing with my Keurig, wondering if the K-cup in it was fresh or not. “He’s off fucking some chick, right?”

No,” Moriarty grumbled. “That’s what he was doing ten years ago. It isn’t right what you’ve done to him! He’s gone absolutely mad, Korey! He’s not trying to forget Charlotte anymore! Last I checked, he was wallowing about, gone completely ‘round the bend, and beginning to think Charlotte was far, far more perfect that she was. You and I both know that she was sort of a twit.”

“Really? I always thought, of all my characters, she was the most like me,” I replied, then looked up and saw Moriarty shaking his head at me.

“That would explain a lot,” Moriarty huffed.

My mouth dropped. “You liked Charlotte!”

“She was tolerable, I suppose,” he replied breezily. “Certainly, I’m not the one that threw her off a cliff, killing her.” He made it sound like it was me who’d done it and not Lachlan, the story’s villain.

I pursed my lips, wondering what I should divulge. “Charlotte… might not be dead.”

And that’s why I have tea stains in my carpet this morning. Moriarty spit it out everywhere. It was a mess. “What?” he demanded, not sounding happy about it at all. “Do you know how far she fell? It was a long drop—we’re not talking a puddle-hop. We’re talking over a hundred feet! Lachlan’s body washed up…”

I looked over my kitchen counter. Was that a stain? I licked my thumb and scrubbed at it. It was definitely preferable to looking right at Moriarty when he was in one of these moods.

“Korey?” When I looked up, he wasn’t sitting in his chair. I turned, and he right there next to me, staring down at me.

Damn it he was tall. For some reason, I ran out of spit and air.  I just sputtered, “Ye… hm?” and fluttered my eye lashes, thinking that innocent people do that all the time.

He narrowed his eyes at me and I took a step back. He took a step forward, saying, “What aren’t you telling me? You’ve got that I-need-a-good-whipping look about you.”

I took another step back and found myself trapped in the corner of countertop. “It’s possible…” I wheezed, “that… Lachlan’s not dead, either.”

He didn’t move at all, didn’t twitch, didn’t blink.

“I… There might have been sorcery involved. He… Had sort of been taking up… two bodies at the time of his death to take over the Otherworld with an army of…”

He still wasn’t blinking.

“Anyway… Charlotte’s sort of changed form because she was rescued by a demi-god named Hoel, who sort of adopted her since she had no memories of anything that happened, and he wanted to protect her from whoever tried to execute her… And it’s possible that… She eventually gets… married by proxy to a warlord… who is actually…” I swallowed. It’s hard to swallow when there’s no spit in your mouth! “Lachlan.”

He finally nodded and blinked, only very quickly. “Alright,” he sighed, his voice quite rumbly, “I’m going to give you a five-second head start.”

I felt sweat perspire on the back of my neck. “Before what?” I asked.

“Four seconds,” he warned. “Three…”

I wasted nearly a whole two seconds just getting around his leering form without full on body-checking him into the kitchen counter like a hockey-star. I probably could have gotten all the way to the mail box before he caught me if I had two more seconds—I was absolutely flying down those stairs leading up to my apartment’s front door.

No idea in hell how he caught me so easily; I had to have been moving at Olympic speeds reserved for people who are trying to escape Grizzly bears (and, of course, the actual Olympics). Then again, I suppose he was only one second behind and his legs are way longer than mine… And leg-span makes a definite difference, let no mistakes be made on that account!

“I think you should really let me explain further,” I was puffing after he’d caught me from around my stomach, yanked me back (I could have gotten whip-lash!), and tilted me over his shoulder.

It was not comfortable at all! Moriarty’s shoulder’s not bony, by any means, but I could feel his collar digging right into my guts, especially as he climbed the stairs. I was trying to find a place to grab onto that wouldn’t result in him dropping me, though, because that would have been even more painful. I grabbed my arms around his chest, secured on the front by his arm around my knees. “Why? What more complications could you possibly add?” he demanded. “Why can’t you write a normal, linear story like everyone else? You know, they hate each other, like each other, there’s some conflict they come over, then they marry? Then end it.”

He dropped me unceremoniously on my bed. “You know James will be home any second!”

He pulled a pocket watch out of his coat, as if he wanted to prove that he was even more disgustingly British than I originally wrote him as. “If any second means in five hours. Besides, you think he’ll disagree with anything I do? Pull down whatever you call those.” He pointed at my pants.

Jeans,” I huffed.

“Whatever you say. Jeans look a lot better on everyone else.” I’d really forgotten what a dick he was. “Would a skirt kill you?”

I locked my jaw firmly as I wiggled my way to the edge of the bed. “I’m not taking off my pants, Moriarty. You have to deal with it. I’m your author!”

He was listening as was taking off his belt.

“I’m your author!” I repeated, my voice getting more screechy. “You do what I tell you to! And you can’t spank me! I get spanked enough by James from being… you know…” Instead of crawling to the edge of the bed, I was now trying to crawl away from him.

“A brat?” he finished.

“I’m not a brat!” I just speak like one to James sometimes. I have a tendency to get very defensive at the drop of a hat. Like right that second—I never said the right thing when I was defensive. It was as if my brain stops functioning… Probably because it’s too busy thinking up reasons why something in particular isn’t my fault.

He grabbed my ankle just as I had turned my body to hop off the other side of my mattress… The side of the bed closest to the balcony. I was thinking I could go through there, round back into the living room’s porch-entrance, and then make it to the front door, make it to the garage, speed away to the airport, and fly to China.

He grabbed my ankle before I even made it off the bed. “What about Alice?” I squealed, trying to kick him off.

Apparently, he’d been given permission to beat the snot out of me if he wanted to. “You’re lucky she’s not here to hold you down. You’ve given her three insane children in the last sixteen story-years. Do you think she can’t wield a mean paddle by now?”

Good point. “You’re not understanding how Charlotte’s character will develop by the end of Book Two! So, so much development!” Moriarty was now pinning me to the bed with his body, reaching around my front and trying to get my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. By then, I was planning to do way more weight-lifting at the gym. Was I always this puny?

“You have no regard for my Master,” he gritted in my ear. He yanked my pants and panties violently to my knees. “His bride is out there—married to his evil brother, no less—and he’s been drinking himself into oblivion and not taking care of any of his responsibilities! And you still haven’t given a care to where he’s gone!”

Grabbing my bottom, which was being hauled down so it neatly pent over the bed, I said, “Don’t worry about him! He’s probably just looking for her! And he’ll totally, totally find her and she’ll be better than she ever was!”

“Sixteen years!” he snapped at me. I don’t think my promise for a HEA had sunk in yet. “Stick your ridiculous little ass into the air, Korey.”

“This is a bit of an overreaction!” I cried, for some reason down-playing his reaction. “What about the art? The art!”

“Alright, let me ask you this,” he riddled. “In this art of yours, how will Ashcroft react when he learns that his brother has been taking liberties with Ashcroft’s woman?”

I could have lied, I understand. I could have told Moriarty that Ashcroft was going to be totally cool when things started to unravel towards the end, but the man’s gonna lose it. I haven’t written it, no, but I knew that much. But it wasn’t my fault—Lachlan’s evil. This was just the way things were. “It’s possible that he’ll throw her out on her hind-end. But he won’t know she’s Charlotte—she probably won’t know she’s Charlotte yet by then!”

Probably?” he seethed.

…Are authors not allowed to use the world ‘probably’ when it comes to plot-description? I haven’t decided yet! I was going to cross that bridge when I came to it!

The belt struck as silent as a snake—I expected whooshing, and I get the belt all the time. I keep forgetting the way it silently bites into your ass, making a loud smacking sound only upon impact… A really loud smacking sound that the neighbors would surely have heard if they hadn’t moved out last week. “Jesus!” I hissed. The stroke was so serious! “Fuck, Moriarty! Give me a break—ouch!” He wouldn’t even give me a break between strokes! He was striking my poor bottom like he was on a schedule!

One stroke fell and then another, and another! I was trying desperately to get up or turn around, but he had me, and my wrists, pinned behind my back in a very uncomfortable way that made me feel like my shoulders were going to be killing me all night long.

“Moriarty! You’re hurting me!” I informed him in a no-laughing manner.

“Good, you little… I don’t even know how to describe you! You’re a silly, silly woman who apparently needs a red bottom to write thirteen miserable chapters of a book! How has it taken you nearly seventeen months?” I heard him hiss as he continued to wail on me. “It’s worse that you know what the plot is—even though you’ve made it a complicated jumble!”

“I’ve been working on other projects!” I claimed, feeling rattled and even a little desperate. “I’ve published three books since then! One was really long!”

Damn Thorton. It was HIM who’d made me take forever on Learning to Blush! Oh! Oh in Swarii Brides, Three, I am going to give Thorton another set of triplets, so help me God! “And I’ve had a full-time job. And cover art. And I started my own company! And all these websites!”

“I was on your computer all day before you’ve gotten back! You never write five words when five hundred will do! You rewrite and rewrite and rewrite. Personally, I don’t think rewriting makes it any better!”

Said the non-werewolf. It was him who’d made me rewrite the first half of Otherworldly twenty times… Okay, that was Charlotte’s fault.

Another belt stripe echoed through the room, this one was followed by a white-flash of pain. I swear my eyes nearly turned inside out. “Fuck! Not there!” Not my sit-spot! Not with the belt!

Alas; Moriarty was in a punishing mood. Maybe Ashcroft had driving him and his buddying family insane with all of his brooding and going mad. So, it was as if I was hanging a billboard that said, ‘Sit-Spot: Where you want to be!’ with a little red arrow pointing at that area.

“Please! Moriarty! Please stop!” I begged, panting and shuddering. I hated to beg Moriarty—it was like going up to a vampire and exposing your jugular. It was only going to get worse.

For a second, the pain stopped. In response, the skin on my bottom crawled and my body shuddered. “Don’t get too relaxed. There are still white spots left,” he warned in my ear, “so you’d better tell me what I want to hear right quick.”

“Merry-go-rounds!” I yelped. “Merry-go-rounds, lollipops, and noodle salad! That’s what’s going to be in the next book! A giant tea-party like that one drawing scene in Mary Poppins!”

I think he thought I was being cheeky. I wasn’t—I really wanted to say what he wanted to hear. Unfortunately, due to a blatant mis-interpretation on his end, my bottom suffered for it. I felt a firm ‘slap’ hit my flank and puffed out a cry of air, unable to actually produce sound.

“No, no—” I couldn’t believe a hand-spanking could be quite that hard. Which is saying something because my husband’s hand feels like wood. I think the big difference here is that Moriarty had huge, gigantic hands. Also, there wasn’t the possibility of make-up sex. Anyway—he also spanked in a way that made me think he wanted me to asphyxiate. He didn’t let me catch my breath, he just filled the room with fleshy slaps as I continued to scream, “Stop! Stop!” Until my voice got hoarse… Which happened quite quickly.

“You’re such a baby,” Moriarty snapped. “Nobody cries this loud on the planet.”

I just made a dry sobbing noise.

He sat down on the bed next to me. I felt his weight shift the mattress. “So,” he began. It was odd to have to listen to a lecture at the end. James, you see, does it before he starts spanking. “I’m not going to let you talk much here, since you’re so bad at it and you’re only going to get yourself more bottom-smacking. This is what you’re going to do, though… Firstly, I don’t know where Ashcroft is but I’m worried. I want you to fish him out of wherever he is and bring him home in one piece. Secondly, you’re going to finish our adventure by Summer. Do you know when Summer starts?”

I gurgled, wondering if even HE could feel the heat from my surely-bruised bottom from where he was sitting.

He patted the small of my back and said, “That’s June twenty-first, poppet.”

“I have a book to do before that!” I grumped.

“I know,” he assured, “that’s why it’s not due in May.”

“You can’t impose deadlines!”

“There are some nice welts here that state otherwise,” he said, surely gesturing at my bottom. “Do they need some company?”

“No!” I cried immediately. “Dear lord, no!”

“Brilliant!” he said cheerfully, giving me another (unnecessarily hard) smack on my bottom as he popped up onto his feet, leaving me groaning. “Put on a skirt and get to it!” He picked up his belt and strapped it back on himself.

“I’m not going to wear skirts, Moriarty,” I groaned, trying to peel myself off the bed so I could relocate some shards of my dignity. “So give it up.”

“Absolutely no,” he refused and walked into my closet. I was finally pulling my rough jeans and thin panties back up when I heard from the closet a cry of, “Dear Lord!” He came out again, looking shell-shocked. “Are you a hobo?”

I didn’t give him any sort of response. I just glared at him and buttoned my pants.

“Seriously, Tim Gunn would just walk in there, take one look, and torch the damn thing.” He put up his finger just as I opened my lips to retort and added firmly, “Watching style shows and knowing who Tim Gunn is has absolutely no bearing on my sexual orientation.”

“I wasn’t going to make a gay joke,” I lied, like I was far to mature to ever make one about a man who wears pink far more often than the average male… Or the average female, for that matter. “I was just wondering why you’re still around after issuing your orders at me like I was the pimple-faced kid in the McDonald’s drive through.”

He grinned at me, showing one of his fangs—it was his real give-away that he wasn’t entirely human.

“I thought we were going to do what we used to do together,” Moriarty said with a shrug. “Sit around and make fun of the people and on the telly, simultaneously watching reality shows while judging anyone who’d ever actually go on one…”

I actually smirked, which was actually something I thought I wouldn’t do again with the way my ass was throbbing. “What are you trying to avoid at home?” I asked, knowing that he’d only drawl out time with me to avoid something else.

He grinned sheepishly, “There’s this parent-teacher nonsense at Cole’s school that I told Alice I didn’t think I’d be able to make,” he admitted.

I squared my shoulders and said, “Let me get this straight—you come in here, lecture me, spank me, threaten me, give me impossible deadlines, and then I’m also supposed to just chill with you on the couch for a few hours wasting time and smoking weed with you?”

He gave a nod. “Yes,” he said, although I think his tone admitted that he knew he was being very fickle, selfish, and contrary.

I pursed my lips and thought about this for a long moment. Moriarty is a total ass, but man-oh-man—he can be as fun and as funny as hell…

“Fine, just never speak of the spanking you gave me or the cellulite on my ass ever again.”

“I haven’t even begun to speak about the dimples on your ass,” he replied with a suave grin.

“I hate you,” I sighed.

“You hate and love me like you hate and love yourself,” Moriarty said. He was quoting Tolkein, of course, but it rung especially true right now.

I shook my head. “So help me, I do.”

Shared Between Them


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I am so excited! The story’s edited, formatted, covered, and now we’re just waiting on Amazon to look it over and stick it up! **Update: It’s up!** In celebration, this weekend’s Saturday Spankings will be from Shared Between Them again!

* * *
SUMMARY OF SHARED BETWEEN THEM

Considered untouchable by her kin, Kyra has been an outcast all her life.  Then two massive, battle-hardened human warriors stride into her woods on a quest to kill a giant and claim a great reward, and after her attempt at petty thievery is foiled, she finds herself stripped naked and soundly spanked.

But that is only the beginning, for the reward for the death of the giant is not only gold and jewels, but the hand of an elf-maiden in marriage, and Kyra is shocked to the core when she learns that the humans have not only completed the quest which cost the life of every previous adventurer, but they have chosen her as their prize.

Taric and Draeven neither understand nor concern themselves with Kyra’s status as an outcast—all they see is the most beautiful of all the elves, a woman who they have both longed to claim as their own and fill with their seed since they first set eyes upon her.  Raised as brothers, they have shared many women before, and now they will share a wife—and take her in any way they please, as often as they please, until she bears a son for them… the half-elven son of giantslayers whose birth has long been foretold.

Kyra, who had never expected to feel the pleasure of a man’s gentle touch, now must submit herself to the fierce, insatiable needs of two hulking barbarians. Yet something stirs within her, and though she blushes with shame at the very thought, she wonders if a day will come soon when she will beg for more.

Publisher’s Note: Shared Between Them is an erotic novel that includes both consensual and non-consensual spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes including threesomes and sex for the purpose of breeding, exhibitionism, elements of BDSM, and much more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

* * *

What’s going on here?

It goes without say that this is a different snippet than what I put up 6 weeks ago. This is further in the book, after Kyra has become well situated with her two husbands and they’re leading her back to their own homelands. Unfortunately, they’d offended Kyra’s king and they now have a flock of elf-guards trying to hunt them all down.

At this point, they’re still on the side of the mountains that Kyra actually grew up in, and she has family hunting grounds nearby. She tries to be sweet to her new husbands so she goes on a hunt. Unfortunatly, the men wake up alone and figure that she’s run away and now they’re going to have to scour the forest for her. They’ve fallen head-over-heels at this point, so her running away, where they might never find her, or getting kidnapped by the king’s guard, has made them both sick with panic.

After they find out that she was just doing some hunting at dawn, Taric strips her quickly and Draevan takes a switch to her immediately. This is towards the end of that particular spanking.

His words hissed over her wails, and even her ridiculous cries for Taric to intercede. “You will always tell—us—where—you’re—going—and you will never—EVER— go out on your own! — Do—you—understand—me?”

She clawed her fingers desperately into his trousers and his flank, trying to get him to let go of her.

SWACK! “Do you understand, Kyra?” he asked again.

She had to take a deep breath to cry out, “Yeees!” in a desperate wail.

He gave her ten more swipes without words, and the fire in her bottom felt like it was spread anywhere. She was sobbing like a baby before she was pulled off of his hip. He discarded the make-shift implement on the ground and let her go, spinning her up into another embrace.

She heard him sniffle.

Draevan? Sniffling? After he’d punished her

Saturday Spankings

 

10.
12.

Shared Between ThemPublished: March 22, 2013 by Stormy Night Publications

Book Length: 7 Chapters / 55,800 words

Read A Sample

Summary:

Considered untouchable by her kin, Kyra has been an outcast all her life.  Then two massive, battle-hardened human warriors stride into her woods on a quest to kill a giant and claim a great reward, and after her attempt at petty thievery is foiled, she finds herself stripped naked and soundly spanked.

But that is only the beginning, for the reward for the death of the giant is not only gold and jewels, but the hand of an elf-maiden in marriage, and Kyra is shocked to the core when she learns that the humans have not only completed the quest which cost the life of every previous adventurer, but they have chosen her as their prize.

Taric and Draeven neither understand nor concern themselves with Kyra’s status as an outcast—all they see is the most beautiful of all the elves, a woman who they have both longed to claim as their own and fill with their seed since they first set eyes upon her.  Raised as brothers, they have shared many women before, and now they will share a wife—and take her in any way they please, as often as they please, until she bears a son for them… the half-elven son of giantslayers whose birth has long been foretold.

Kyra, who had never expected to feel the pleasure of a man’s gentle touch, now must submit herself to the fierce, insatiable needs of two hulking barbarians. Yet something stirs within her, and though she blushes with shame at the very thought, she wonders if a day will come soon when she will beg for more.

Publisher’s Note: Shared Between Them is an erotic novel that includes both consensual and non-consensual spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes including threesomes and sex for the purpose of breeding, exhibitionism, elements of BDSM, and much more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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ConstructionI know, I know. Everyone thinks I’m nuts because, on Facebook and if you’re on my mailing lists, you’ve been given an update with all my old stories. Believe it or not, I actually haven’t lost my mind.

Yet.

No, no. Actually, I’m getting my Stories section all fixed up. I have NEVER made a good section for anyone to see any of my previous work, let alone allowed anyone to easily sample any of it. Heck, I’m going to be making a short-story and scribbles section, too. THEN I mean to update my “Cover & Design” section. I don’t know what’s been keeping me. I must be insane.

Anywhoo, everyone–now you know. I’ve completely updated my books section here: http://koreymaejohnson.com/category/koreys-books-stories/ if you’re curious as to what I’m blathering on about.

AND, if you’d like to try typing simply www.koreymaejohnson.com, you can do that whenever you’d like. It will lead you in. 🙂

Thanks for your patience, everyone!

Shared Between Them is still in it’s editing phase, but should be out next week where I’ll give you another peek right as it’s available on Amazon. For now, let’s keep the spanking scenes fresh–or else you’re just going to read ones from the same story until you tire of it. Here’s one you might not know…

Pursuit of Glory is my baby, and my first child. It’s the only book I’ve written where I can honestly say that I have a “thing” for the main hero. I fell in love with Logan Liam when I was in high school, but that love matured through college and eventually I decided on a plot-line to work with by the time I was in my last year of college. I’ve written so many short Logan Liam adventures, that this one was really the tip of the ice-burg.

It got reviewed pretty well–it’s always been in the Top 20 at Blushing, but it’s never sold particularly well–I think it was about 15,000 Amazon sales ranking for a split second after I published my latest book, but that’s still not fantastic. James thinks it might have sold around 1,000 copies since 2008… But if that’s true, it took 5 long years to get there where the first three years I used tooth and claw to eke out selling just 100 copies.  Since this was my first book, it sported my first attempt of cover-design (horrible!) on it for two years (this one’s newer and was remade last year), and it still carries my first attempt at blurb-writing. Not only that, but I don’t think people really have a rocketing interest for a fantasy naval novel resembling the Napoleonic Wars (I’m a total nerd for 18th and 19th century navel warfare)… That being said, I’ll always love it because it’s the book of my heart–I wrote it for pure, unadulterated fun.

Saturday SpankingsAnd since it’s from my heart, you can better believe it’s got spankings galore in it. My offering for this week’s Saturday Spankings.

Remember, the rules with Saturday Spankings is that I can only choose 8 sentences from the spanking scene of my choice, so that’s why it’s so horribly short. If you’d like to read the whole 3rd chapter, complete with a spanking scene, click here! If you just want a taste, though…

What’s going on: Renny dressed up like a young marine so she could board an enemy ship and ‘prove herself’ since she’d been yammering on the whole journey, assuring everyone she could fight. And she could, though at the end Logan had to save her, and she saved him right back before passing out from an injury. This is a few days later, and she feels so horrible about the fact that she’d bit off so much more than she could chew that she actually reports to Logan, the commanding officer on the ship, for correction. This is more towards the end of the spanking, and they’re finally beginning to connect a little sexually.


“Stop it! Stop!” she screamed, her pain distracting her thoughts. “It hurts, it hurts!”

“It hurts far less than what could have happened to you, I imagine,” was his cold response. But he was beginning to become nearly violent with sexual retention, especially when he saw that her virgin cunny was now far more lubricated than it was before. She seemed very aroused! Was it possible that a girl could even become aroused in such a situation? He tried to gather his thoughts away from it, trying to focus on the reddening of her white flesh.  Finally, her bottom was such a color that he felt he had to release her, even though he was surely enjoying himself. 

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Don’t forget to keep sampling spanking scenes! 

Thanks, as always, to Katherine R. Blake for organizing this weekly hop!

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Pursuit of Glory by Korey Mae Johnson

Book Length: 21 Chapters / 88,015 words

Renny, the daughter of the High General, is young and brave, but also a brat in need of strict guidance. Following an embarrassing incident in front of the king  whom her father is sworn to serve, she runs away from her father’s firm chastisement. She stows away on a ship, only to discover that she has ended up aboard the flagship of her homeland’s navy, captained by Admiral Logan Liam—her father’s rival, who only knows of one way to handle unwanted guests on his ship. But, over the course of the voyage, his fondness for her grows, as does his realization that she will always require a firm hand, frequently applied to her bare bottom.

Despite his best efforts, Logan and Renny are soon swept into the heart of a growing revolution against the cruel and brutal king. As the danger around them grows, so does their bond with one another, but can that bond endure through the events ahead?

Pursuit of Glory is set in a fantasy-world that highly resembles Earth in the late 18th Century.

Happy Thursday, Folks!

My favorite thing about owning a blog, officially, is having some really awesome people drop by. Renee Rose is an absolutely amazing author–she’s one of those people who you can’t put down once you start reading and then you look up and you forgot to cook dinner. She’s that sorta girl. I was so, so pleased to do a two-in-one (Lords and Ladies) with her, because I think she’s so good that she  really raises the bar on quality for the rest of us. That, and her blog is absolutely fantastic and charming and is one of my favorites.

Anywhoo, without anymore gilding the lily, I have you the lovely Renee Rose! Thanks so much Renee for joining us and talking about your inspiration for your new title, The Devil of Whiskey Row, which will be released by SNP next week!

 

Spanking in a Western Brothel

 by Renee Rose

 

renee_blog_graphicI’ve always had a sort of fascination with the sex worker.  As a teenager, I was attracted to the idea of being a stripper, even though I knew I never could.

In a society where teenage girls are taught to fear men and their sexual advances, to steel themselves against them, to not “put out,” I admired the minority of women who turned the tables on that power dynamic.  They charged for it.  Or they took what they wanted with no apologies.  They stripped, they whored, they dominated.  They called the shots.  How terribly interesting.

More recently, the Amy Winehouse song “I’m No Good” struck me as a shockingly different take–a female serial cheater?  A woman who just can’t help but take a little physical pleasure every time she has the chance?  Whoa.  That’s a new twist.

So when I contemplated writing a western, I was drawn to the brothel scenario. Men outnumbered women ten to one during the Gold Rush in California, and women were in such short order that French whores got on ships and sailed to California, assured that their passage would be paid when they arrived. Whorehouses, saloons and gambling halls sprang up and a great deal of money changed hands there.

In The Devil of Whiskey Row, Cora, the heroine, ended up working in a brothel as a victim of circumstance. She approaches sex as a victim. In the bedroom, she closes her eyes, grits her teeth, and tries not to move much until her customer is through.  She’s never experienced pleasure, nor has she ever thought to seek it.

When a fire destroys the brothel where she works and Jake, the Devil of Whiskey Row, swoops in and offers her work in his brothel, her eyes are opened to an entirely different world view.  Jake’s whores are empowered.  They enjoy making money and they enjoy the sex.  Cora is intrigued by their take on the age-old profession. When her own flame is kindled by Jake (who has a penchant for taking her over his knee) she discovers she is capable of more passion than she ever dreamed possible.

Here’s a little taste of the sexual tension that starts to build between Cora and Jake during a spanking:

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She rushed out of his grasp when she entered the room, her feet carrying her to the middle of the room where she stopped, uncertainly.  He sat down on the bed and simply waited, offering no command, curious to see what she would do.

She turned slowly to face him, her eyes sweeping his face as if looking for clues for what to expect.  Still he waited.  Her chest heaved under the constriction of her corset, creating a lovely view of the tops of her lifted breasts framed by the low, square cut bodice of the gown.  She didn’t move from her place, and her eyes fell from his face to his feet. The tension in the room grew, the silence only cut by her shallow panting.  At last she took one, faltering step in his direction, then another.

 He sat back with satisfaction. It had been so very easy to bring her to heel.  He’d been certain that underneath the cursing and defensive exterior was a very sweet girl. Her last few footsteps quickened, bringing her to stand directly before him.

“Good girl,” he murmured approvingly. Her little panting breath answered with the whisper of  a tiny moan. He put his hands on her waist and turned her slowly around so he could unfasten her gown for her.  It had a series of tiny hooks in the back and it took some time for him to release them all so he could open the dress.  It fell in a satin puddle at her feet, and he began unlacing her corset.  She took several deep, shaky breaths when he released her lower rib cage from its constriction and tossed the corset to the side.  She didn’t move, simply stood there, her torso bared from the waist up, a slight trembling making the long ropey muscles of her back twitch.  He put his hands on her hips and turned her to face him.

Though he’d seen them before, he was still unprepared for the full effect of her breasts. Like everything else about her, they were so youthful, so wholesome, full of the promise of life, he found it was he who trembled.  Willing himself to ignore them, he lifted his eyes to her face.

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Look for the release of The Devil of Whiskey Row next week!

Renee Rose, best-selling erotic romance author, did not come out of the closet as a spanko until she published her spanking romance Betrothed. A lifelong writer, she has a B.A. in creative writing from Knox College, where she won the Davenport prize for both fiction and poetry, and the Lorraine Smith prize for literary criticism.  She spent thirteen years in technical writing before she found a way to incorporate her deepest darkest spanking fantasies into fiction and express a part of her that longed to see the light. She is now passionate about supporting others in accepting and exploring their kink, whatever that may be. Visit her blog at www.reneeroseromance.com and join in the conversation.

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Talk gets racy at Patricia Green's blog as I rant about the amazing power of humiliation in erotic literature

Talk gets racy at Patricia Green’s blog as I rant about the amazing power of humiliation in erotic literature

Hi everyone!

As you can see, I didn’t do Saturday Spanks this Saturday–my mother in law is in town and that means I have to keep everything on the down-low. Besides that, it was quite a busy week with getting a bunch of covers done, the house cleaned, and “Shared Between Them” finished! I’m still waiting for the story to come back from the editor, but I’ll have it soon.

Until then, did you know I visited Patricia Green’s Blog on Friday? You should go see–I gabbed about how humiliation is spanking’s sexy grandfather (kink-wise) and why I incorporate so much of the humiliation fetish into my writing! It was really fun to go and it was so nice of Patricia to invite me over, so please go and visit the post there!!

http://patriciagreenbooks.com/2013/03/08/special-guest-star-korey-mae-johnson/