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 Lust in Lace anthology is now available with my novella. In Byron Cane’s Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.

 

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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.”

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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.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 6)

“Remove your uniform!” My fingers shook, buttons seemed to be made of grease and when my dress slid off my shoulders to the floor, there was an audible indrawn hiss from the gathered maids, footmen and cooks. Naked I stooped and collected my garment, shoes for good measure. “March to the laundry young lady! I am not finished with your punishment!” I marched: but as I did, the expected expressions of gloat did not appear on my tormentor’s faces. Stricken they were as Mrs. Cleanknockers swung her strap across the backs of my thighs all the way to the washroom.

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 5)

“Yes ma’am,” was the only safe response. She touched my shoulder. “Stand up Ruby.” I stood, my shoes squeaked. “Step over the bench.” I obeyed. The far wall receded. I swayed; she steadied me. “Bend over and place your hands on the table.” As I did, Mrs. Cleanknockers spoke in a voice cold as an icicle, “Let this be a lesson to you all.” I felt the lash on my bottom, the fabric no protection against her fury. She whipped me hard for a minute, it seemed like an hour, then grabbed me by the collar and yanked me upright.

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 4)

I squelched into the kitchen for breakfast, glared at Louisa and her smirking criminal compatriot Emily. I wondered why they were kept on: perhaps their bottoms were used for demonstrations. My backside was dry as I ruminated over breakfast. I was peripherally aware of Mrs. Cleanknockers conversing with Cook but concentrated on my porridge. Therefore, I jumped when her voice boomed loudly. “Ruby! Why is your uniform wet?” I swallowed hard. “I dropped my chamber pot outside ma’am.” The breathless silence was broken by sniggers. “Be quiet!” she bellowed. In the fraught tension I felt her presence hover. “Clumsy today?”

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 3)

A sibilant frustrated inarticulate whisper of hate was my only warning before the shadow struck. The chamber pot dashed to ground: contents splashed on my frock and shoes. Steps fled in haste, in the flash of light from opened door, a profile: Louisa. I was not surprised. Hazing was part and parcel of service life. If she, or any others thought to break me with childish pranks, they knew not my strength of character. The sun peeped over the distant elms, a bedraggled urchin caught in the unblinking eye. The nearby pump gushed cold water as I rinsed and squeezed.

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

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