The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 12)

“It was my Lord. The mines are flourishing and I was able to acquire the leases to three more.” There was a rustle of papers. Perched on the upper portion of the ladder I stretched out to the last book on the shelf. I felt eyes on me and I peeped under my arm. The stranger was fixated on my bottom. I looked away and smiled naughtily. I placed both hands one rung lower and dipped my back as if to ease a kink. Another casual glance around. His mouth was slightly open but his expression was stern and foreboding.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 11)

I once saw an organ grinder with a monkey: a reminder as I scampered up and down the ladder. All I lacked was a prehensile tail: my red bottom certainly matched. To my surprise I was happy to bring cleanliness out of filth, my late mother had often punished me when I neglected my chores. Here at Peacock House, the promised sensual rewards drove me to perfection. “Ah, welcome Mr. Jones-Smyth. I trust your journey to Wales was productive?” My ears perked up. Was this the man Mrs. Cleanknockers had thought I suited admirably? I listened intently to the conversation.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 10)

Gentle Reader, I can attest that Lord Caneshard could also spank hard. My tender cheeks flared anew as the rapid cadence of palm beat on the surface. The smacking noise filled the study, my pitiful yelps drowned by the hard echoes. A final brutal flurry, his scolding grunts excited me. His hands pried me open, the cool air a balm on my flushed lips. I wiggled. His cock was rigid beneath me. He chuckled. “Not yet sweetness. Not yet.” He walloped me twice more for good measure then put me to work. Another shelf of books: another parade of visitors.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 9)

He grunted absently absorbed in his ledgers. “Tis Ruby sir. I’m here for my discipline and cleaning duties.” He glanced up, a classic double take and rose to his feet. “I presume there is an explanation for your lack of attire?” I demurely clasped hands at my waist. “Mrs. Cleanknockers directed that I perform my duties here and in the Gun Room sans clothing sir.” Lord Caneshard fairly bounded over his desk to my side. “You are a right handful,” he declared then led me to an armless chair. “Over my knee girl.” I straddled his leg, red bottom uppermost.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Sir Fang and other biting tails

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is Victorian and happens to be an era I am currently immersed in. There are several, three to be exact, story lines I am currently writing.

#1: My tribute serial novel The Bumhampton Chronicles is a send-up of sorts of the great Victorian Age of Erotica, where orifices were plundered and bottoms were whacked. The Venerable Lord Caneshard the Omnipresent of Lower Bumhampton, his housekeeper Mrs. Cleanknockers, his ward Miss Frothinglips and the mysterious Mr. Steedstiff all conspire to bring the virginal and virtuous Ruby Slapumcheecks to great heights of wicked, wanton pleasure. It is not intended to be factual either in place, the year 1865, nor in terms of language and dress and circumstances. The Bumhampton Chronicles is currently being posted as 100-word drabbles 4 to 5 times a week. Click the link above to scroll back to the beginning of the story.

#2: The short story The Bloody Merry Book Club was posted for Halloween 2016 and is a contemporary spanking story that was a one-off. As so often happens, the short story yielded a character who demanded a novel. The Bloody Merry Book Club has now become the prologue for a new novel called “The Case of the Scarlet Paddle” starring Sir Nachton MacRath, Peer of the Realm, immortal vampire, lover of many and anointed Chastiser for the Queen! Sir Fang, as someone dubbed him, is a Scottish Highlander Vampire Steampunk Regency Pirate who solves the coldest of cases for the Crown. Obviously tongue-in-cheek, but the novel itself has turned out to be rather serious. It, like the Bumhampton Chronicles, is set in Victorian England of 1865, but is an alternative universe where steam technology has led to airships and other advances. This novel will not be posted online.

#3: This novel has in turned spawned another Victorian novella set in 1854 when Sir Nachton MacRath has returned to England after being banished by the Regent 18 years before. The Steampunk aspect has just begun to gather steam, so to speak, and he finds himself being drawn to a mortal woman. The novella is for an unnamed as of yet Valentine’s Day anthology for the Paranormal Erotic Romance Lust anthology series. This prequel is filled with historical figures, lots of spankings and erotic play. It is scheduled to be released Jan, 11th 2017 on Amazon as an ebook. Check the PNR website for updates.

The following excerpt is from “The Case of the Scarlet Paddle” and describes Sir Nachton MacRath’s duty as official Chastiser.

Sir Nachton MacRath pulled into the mews off Hill Street in Mayfair and cut the switch for the boiler. The new Avon steamer was fresh off the factory floor, his factory floor in fact, but that was more secret than his vampire status. The stable boys crowded around in admiration and he obliged them with a slew of technical specs. “If any of you have mechanical aptitude I know an agent who’s always in need of sharp young lads to learn the steam business.” MacRath slipped off his goggles and driving gloves. He sniffed and grimaced. “The Thames is a right cesspool this fine winter’s afternoon.” There was a chorus of agreements and inquiries as to when the Southwick Sewer Plant was to become operational. “Soon boys, very soon.” He assigned someone to watch over the carriage and strode briskly to the front door.

“Lord Flintdowns,” he said and handed his embossed card to the butler. “Lady Stanton is expecting me.”

“Yes my lord. If you will wait in the front parlor I will enquire if she is receiving.”

MacRath peered out the window. The sun was soon to set, the weather mild for late November of 1865. He never liked Her Majesty being involved in these cases, but a Royal command was not to be ignored. Even secluded in Windsor, her tentacles spread throughout the ton. He begrudged the time away from Lady Joyce. Her expertise, book learned to be sure, had been invaluable in the hunt for the mystery of the scarlet paddle. His lips curved in a half smile, half smirk. She had taken to his discipline like a duck to water.

“Lord Flintdowns,” a feminine voice called out, “thank you for answering so promptly.”

“Lady Stanton,” MacRath bowed and kissed her hand. “I will not say this is a pleasure, although your lovely countenance outshines the noonday sun.”

“La sir, you are quite the rogue,” Lady Stanton scolded and blushed.

“I am a slave to my nature m’lady.” He held a hand to his breast and touched his badge of office. The Three Lions with crossed cane and birch rod glowed in the last light of day. “If you may, reiterate the incident to me so that appropriate measures can be weighed.”

Lady Stanton pursed her lips, every inch the stern patrician matriarch. “My daughter Libby was seen in Hyde Park yesterday with a known rake despite my express forbiddance. She foisted off her maid and arranged the clandestine affair. Her father is aware, but has removed to White’s for the evening.”

“If it does not distress Lady Stanton, when you state Libby was seen, does that mean other than a public promenade?”

“I will be frank Lord Flintdowns as your reputation for discrete chastisement proceeds you. A single kiss on a darkened terrace during a rout is one thing, but a day dress stained with grass and bits of bark on the bustle, along with ripped petticoats is quite beyond the pale. I will not tolerate wanton behavior from any of my daughters.” Lady Stanton nostrils flared and her corseted bosom heaved like the tides as she fulminated.

“Thank you my Lady for the clarification. I indeed commiserate with your agitation. May I inquire as to Libby’s whereabouts at this time?”

“She is confined to my sitting room. I am sure you can see the impropriety in her being seen to in her own chambers.”

“Then I am to understand you will be present?”

Lady Stanton frowned. “Not only present my Lord, I will decide when the punishment is complete.”

“Yes my Lady.”

MacRath waited in the hall while Lady Stanton dismissed the maid and began to lecture her wayward daughter. There was much protest from Libby all to no avail. He was bade enter and got his first look at the miscreant. She was taller than her mother, slender with flame red hair piled carefully on her head. The deep navy dress was of the latest fashion. There was no doubt she recognized him for her face turned sallow and her eyes distraught. More entreaties ensued until Lady Stanton issued her ultimatum. “Either you accept your punishment from Her Majesty’s chastiser or you shall be confined to your room for the next six weeks. That brought silence at last along with tears. Lady Stanton said coldly, “Save your waterworks daughter. You will soon have a real reason to cry.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 8)

In the throes on my second spend Mrs. Cleanknockers nibbled my ear. “I will precious Ruby. I will spank you until your bottom is the color of ripe plums and then thrash you some more. My darling love slave, I cannot wait to put you to display.” My third crisis engulfed me, her fingers withdrew; I licked them clean. “Enough frivolity Ruby, His Lordship awaits you in his study.” When I blinked in confusion, she waved her hands. “Shoo! I will finish your uniform.” Barefoot I traipsed the halls, my naked form a curiosity. “Good morning Your Lordship.” I curtsied.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 7)

Tears pooled in my eyes as I washed and rinsed my soiled smock. I felt her hands on my hot skin, a cool salve rubbed deep. “I’m sorry Ruby for being so harsh,” Mrs. Cleanknockers whispered in my ear. “I know what actually happened and the true culprit. Rest assured I will deal with her in due time.” Her fingers strayed deeper. “Lean forward my sweet and spread your thighs.” Her fingers slipped inside, the scent of heated roses trickled down, my climax slammed up my spine. My head lolled back. My mouth enslaved by her lips. “Spank me more.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.