Armistice Day


I wanted to share this post again that I wrote back in 2009 for Armistice Day known now as Veteran’s Day in the United States.

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the year 1918 World War I came to an end with an armistice involving nearly all the warring parties. For Mrs. Jensen she felt the deadly chill thawing when she began to hope she’d see her husband again. For two long years she’d lived in dread of the Western Union boy. Refusing to read the papers or the periodicals, she’d even walked out of the cinema to avoid the patriotic newsreels.

Three weeks later, a letter from the Army, her husband had been discharged and would be home in two weeks. For her sanity, Mrs. Jenson did nothing different, not even mark the calendar. She honestly couldn’t remember the feel of his arms around her or even the deep penetration when they made love. The other things, those she recalled with clarity.

The chuff-chuff of the special troop train gradually quieted only to be replaced by loud cheers and the local brass band playing triumphant airs. The orderly crowd quickly broke into a frenzy of yells, tears and ecstatic families finally reunited. Craning her neck, Mrs. Jenson thought she saw her husband, but waited patiently away from the maddened crush. Then, he was holding her, his lips trembling as she wept happy tears of relief.

After dinner, a repast he likened to the finest ambrosia, he took her hand and led her to their bedroom. He poured out two years of horror, despair and brutality on her acquiescent body. She found, to her surprise, responding enthusiastically to his advances. Even trying things she’d refused to do before the war as being unladylike. There was one thing she needed however.

Before they slept from passion temporarily satiated, she retrieved his leather strop, hanging where he had left it and oiled regularly by Mrs. Jenson in his absence. She removed her nightgown, another first, and eagerly bent over the bolsters. Rising once more, her husband took her again as she moaned wantonly. There was no armistice in the Jenson household. The strop rose and fell harshly on her bottom, steadily turning two years of neglect into a flaming red rear.

When he finished, she was so aroused. Needing another go, she dropped to her knees. Only on her wedding night had she allowed him to put his male part in her mouth, but Mrs. Jenson was so hot, so aflame with lust, she had to succor him: taste her essence and draw him close, draining all his nightmares while awake. When he plunged back in, close to spending, she begged for him to use her mouth when he was ready. The cold they both had lived for two years was now hot as the viscous fluid pouring down her throat.

Whipping my Spanking Novel into shape

Well, here goes nothing!

I’m not very good at socializing or trusting, so this is a very big step for me to ask for assistance and throw my hopes and dreams out into the world.

Some background first.

Back in 2009 I started Lurv Spanking as an anonymous outlet to write stories and commentary about spanking, specifically the psychology ‘behind’ the reasons so many people like spanking. I mentioned spanking on my real-name blog that I started in 2006 from time to time and discovered many, if not a majority, of my readers were fellow spankos. None of the other six blogs I was curating in 2009 fit the precise requirements so Lurv Spanking was born.

In late 2006 I wrote a short story and emailed it to a blogging friend. She read it and immediately wrote back saying I had to turn the story into a full-length novel. I posted that first chapter on my real-name blog, then several more until all my readers told me to take it down and write the novel. I did so, mostly at work, and in 2007 self-published my novel under my real name. Back then, it was called vanity publishing and the many epublishers and media platforms did not yet exist. It didn’t sell because I didn’t bother promoting it except on my blogs and I had given a free copy to all my most loyal readers. Then in Sept. 2009, I wrote a short story here on Lurv Spanking and again the same thing happened. Readers told me to take it down and write a novel. So I did, pecking away at it for a year and writing 60,000 words.

Then, the hard drive crashed… twice and we had to buy a replacement computer. I had neglected to back up the Word doc and it was gone. Luckily… I was in the habit of printing out each page as it was finished, so I had a hard copy at least. By 2012 I was done with blogging. My main blog was getting up to 200 spam comments a day and I was tired of writing. I walked away from all seven blogs and didn’t come back until the month of July, 2016. My manuscript was dusty and the thickness was intimidating. But I remembered in the forward to The Lord of The Rings, J.R.R Tolkien describing how it took 13 years to finish the manuscript and then having to type and re-type it all over again when it was done. I’m not in his class of writer – few are – but I can type if I have the time and inclination.

Starting over.

So on June 29, 2016 I wrote a completely new prologue to my spanking novel and then started, page by page to reenter every word I’d written over six years ago. [I wasn’t able to scan with OCR software – I tried several – because our computer OS is too old] I finished July 29, 2016 with a total of 70,000 words adding 10,000 new words and changing the entire novel from 1st person past and present, to 3rd person past and 1st person present. As of now, I have to write at least another 40,000 words to complete the novel, all new plots and scenarios. This time I have a copy here on this blog, a Word doc on my computer, a hard copy and a flash drive backup. The characters are still mulling over how they want the novel to end. They have a fairly detailed outline blocked out but nothing is solid yet. That’s the problem sometimes when you want to write one way and the character(s) come back and say ‘Spanking without any sex? Ever? I don’t think so. This is what you’re going to write.’

Below is a trial synopsis for a potential back cover – presuming of course it ever is printed – based on the arc of the story lines. I had not intended to write an erotic spanking novel at all, only spanking but as above the characters wanted to have sex and who was I to say no. My style of writing is to slowly introduce characters one by one by using mostly dialog rather than internal monologue. In fact, in the prologue no names are used and Kitten’s name is not revealed until chapter two, the title character’s name until midway of chapter two and the third female character until chapter four. I also switch back and forth between past and present as DJ is relating the story to his wife. One of the interesting things about observation is that no two people remember the same event the same way. I’ve tried to capture this by having all the characters knowing something about everybody, but nobody knowing everything about anybody and mostly what they think they know is incorrect. The only one who knows everything is the reader but even then, there are many secrets not revealed until the very end.

Still writing and hope to be done by the end of the month.

This however is not a typical story. Here on this blog I try to write happy spanking stories where all the characters are having fun and being silly at times. My novels explore the darkness and are painful for me to write. They touch on all sorts of triggers for both me and my readers. Sometimes I get so angry at what my characters are going through I want to punch the screen. Other times my eyes are so filled with tears of joy I can’t see. I’ve been denying myself for years the fact that I have to write. I sit at the keyboard and they start narrating their lives to me. My characters want to live. They want to be remembered and celebrated. They want you to know that when you read their story, you will cry, laugh, scream, be aroused and be sad but will never be comfortable.

DJ used to be a college bad boy running with a pack of affluenza hellions reveling in a hedonistic lifestyle of sex, spanking and bondage with willing victims. After earning a Master’s degree he meets the love of his life and is happily married in a burgeoning D/s relationship and Dominant to Kitten when it all starts to fall apart. Very curious to know more about his past submissive conquests as she’s still trying to decide how much dominance she desires, Kitten awakens the monster DJ thought he had suppressed for good. As he takes her submission deeper and deeper into the lifestyle of BDSM the punishments and explicit sexual training become more severe as devastating secrets are revealed from his past. The narrative unfolds simultaneously five years apart with DJ as the protagonist in both timelines and then the past and present collide when he comes face-to-face with the women he thought he’d ruined and lost forever. Will they forgive him or have they come seeking revenge? Will Kitten continue to roll over and submit or will her claws come out? Starring three strong women and one sadistic man, Breaking Grace is a lyrical and powerful erotic novel exploring many aspects of BDSM and LGBT while acknowledging both the devastation of past abuse and the power of faith and redemption within a D/s relationship between survivors. The reader’s beliefs and expectations will be challenged at every turn of the page.

So having written all this, I would like some advice from my current readership. Number one is I am seeking a beta reader(s) who would be willing to proofread the manuscript in several ways. I do not have anyone in real life who I can ask to be a beta reader.

1. Grammar and styling.
2. Continuity.
3. Genuineness of sex and punishment scenes.
4. Story flow in terms of readability.
5. Character development.
6. Overall plot believability.

I would also greatly appreciate feedback from published authors about the platforms they currently use and which ones to avoid although I’ve checked several and they don’t fit with the scope of this novel since this a male narrator and set in present day. Not to mention, the story doesn’t fit any one genre but bounces through many archetypes. On the other hand, I love this novel and am very proud of my efforts. If you would like to offer assistance then please contact me at my email address, lurvspanking@gmail.com and I will get back to you. I can’t offer any compensation except my grateful thanks for your readership and reciprocal beta reading.

Sincerely,
LS

The Silent Treatment gets spanked

Cross posted to ‘New Beginnings’ on 7/29/16 Thanks PK so if you’ve already read the post you can wait until the next post. On her blog she filled in the names.

This is a fill in the blank story. The names of the guilty you can select and punish.

 

Husband #1. “Dude! What’s wrong with your wife?”
Husband #2. “She’s giving me the silent treatment. Who knows.”
Husband #3. “Wouldn’t happen in my house.”
Husband #4. “Why not?”
Husbands #1,#3. “Because our wives would be over our knees for a long hard spanking until they started talking. That’s why!”
Husbands #2,#4. “WTF?”

___ was getting fed up with ___ and her silent treatment. He had no idea what set her off this time only that she hadn’t exchanged more than ‘I’m fine’ and ‘I have a headache’ all weekend. Hanging out with the guys watching sports on Sunday was an ordeal when ___ asked him what was wrong with her? That time of the month was greeted with sighs and snickers. [Not the chocolate bar-men being assholes] ___ overheard their derision and stormed out of the house with mayhem on her mind. She went next door to ___ house and vented over margaritas. ___ noticed ___ was squirming every time she sat down. Are you OK? Not that time of the month is it? [sarcastic tipsy] No, ___ spanked me this morning for back talk. WTF? ___ spanks you? Yes for cursing, speeding, overspending, overeating, being drunk… all sorts of things. Rarely a day goes past without my panties down and my bottom reddened. I can’t believe this! I’m not the only one, ___ and ___ and ___ also get spanked. Don’t you? ___ would never spank me! Is that a good thing? You just told me you’re giving him the silent treatment. In my house, that calls for the paddle and a long blowjob to atone. Doesn’t that make you feel degraded? ___ honey the only thing that makes me feel degraded is when ___ doesn’t spank me for something I did wrong. Being ignored hurts way more than a session with the cane. I don’t know if I could let ___ spank me, it seems so medieval and uncaring. No ___ you’re wrong, being spanked is empowering, it shows me that ___ cares about me as a person and wants me to succeed in my goals. Spanking allows me to be a better wife, a better mother and a better person.

___ went home after dark. ___ had come over to ___ house and the three of them had discussed children, work and spanking husbands. [husbands spanking wives- not spanking husbands- oh never mind] ___ was waiting for her alone, the guys having given him some rather explicit advice. Could he do it? Could he be a superhero to his wife? Spankoman! ___ was tired and confused and brushed past him wanting to take a shower. When she finished, she curled up in bed and cried. ___ tiptoed into the bedroom listening to her venting her frustration. Behind his back he hid the implement. Standing over her back he raised it up and swung down. A soft thunk as the down pillow thudded against her bottom. What are you doing? He swung again hitting her torso with a pop. What does it look like? I’m having a one-sided pillow fight. ___ grabbed a pillow and rose to her knees, her nude body still damp from the shower. She swung her pillow and hit his legs. Back and forth they went until she fell back laughing and gasping for breath. ___ sat down on the bed, leaned over and kissed her. Welcome back, are you going to talk to me now? She apologized for her behavior and he accepted. You’re still dressed and her hands went to his belt buckle. That’s because I’m not finished with you yet. What are you going to do to me? ___ you know I love you but your treatment of me is unacceptable at times. There is only one way for me express my dissatisfaction and that is to put you over my knee and spank you for your silent treatment.

___ looked at ___ with wide eyes and did not resist when he drew her up and over his lap. Her unblemished beautiful bounteous bare bottom beckoned for a beating. This is for not speaking with me as his hand rose and fell. This is for running away and drinking all afternoon as her bottom turned pink. This is for cursing when you don’t think I hear as she begged him to stop. And this is for believing I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t care enough about your well-being that I wouldn’t spank you as he turned her bottom a lovely shade of red. He rubbed and prodded as she wept out the last of her tension and fears. Still over his knees, ___ used his fingers inside her weeping core and thrummed her aching clit until she came begging him not to stop. So ___ did not stop, but threw ___ on her back and licked deep inside as she convulsed again and again. When ___ opened her eyes, she saw ___ was still dressed. He told her she was not done with her punishment. Kneel. She knelt and unbuckled his belt, lowered the zipper and reached inside pulling out the concealed treasure. It was at that stage of rock hard firmness and throbbing hot as she wrapped her hands around the shaft. Clear sweet liquid oozed from the round tip gleaming in the light. Before ___ could open her mouth and begin her discipline, ___ informed her that spankings would be forthcoming whenever she earned them. Do you agree ___?

___ looked up at her husband. My mother told me it was rude to talk with my mouth full.

 

 

Because a poem was wanted in the moonlight :)

rising above
if I were there
her full moon
parted eclipse
your taste
remembered now
faintly gleaming
pearlescent shimmer
mixture of lust
falling slowly from
reddened lips
on my back
cheeping
my sticky hand
wrapped
around you
I open my mouth
begging to be fed

Ina-Morata requested a poem as a comment on a post. I chose ‘The Mating of Love Birds’ and this is the response I wrote.

How to ask your man for a spanking*

[* Your man not ‘A’ man. Asking a stranger** for a spanking is a really bad idea.]
[** Stranger as in a random guy rather than someone in the scene***]
[*** Scene includes but not limited to clubs, gatherings, films etc.]

The following is fiction. I do not receive letters from women seeking advice.
They could.
Ask for advice.
But they don’t.
Because…
Well, this blog is a way for me to be creative and more importantly, force myself to keep writing.
Although if anyone does want to contact me they could.
I don’t have any contact on this blog however other than leaving a comment.

Dear Lurvspanking,

I hope it’s all right to leave this comment. I read all your posts and I wanted to ask you a question. How do I ask my husband to spank me? In your stories all the women are confident and the men all immediately understand the need for a good spanking. But I read many blogs written by married women and they all confide their husbands don’t understand them. There seems to be constant conflict over being submissive in today’s modern culture. What I want is what all the other women want: to be treated as someone precious and fragile while acknowledging our intelligence and passion. Is that too much to expect from a spanking?

Thanks

Confused wannabe sub in Middle America

Dear Wannbe,

Thank you for your comment and yes, it is all right to ask me for my advice. Let’s start with spanking shall we? You don’t mention how long you’ve been married or if you have children, but I’ll assume you have two kids and have been married for ten years. Is spanking something you want to spice up your sex life? Is it for punishment? Control? What are your expectations?

LS

Dear LS,

Thanks for replying. We have only one child and we’ve been together for fifteen years all told. I am very submissive, always have been, but with working full-time and my husband having his own interests, I’ve had to be independent. More independent than I’m comfortable being on a daily basis. I want my husband to spank me because I’m unhappy with me, with everything. I’m too fat, too tired, too lazy and have completely lost my way. Sex? What’s that? Maybe if he wanted to go out once in a while instead on lying on the couch watching sports. Sorry. Didn’t mean to vent.

Wannabe

Dear Wannabe,

You really do need a hard spanking! Such an attitude! Men are simple. When a woman is needy, they pull away. But, the one redeeming quality – besides a big cock – is that men love a problem to fix. Instead of coming right out and asking for a spanking, ask your husband for his advice. Be demure, not clingy and dress nice. Glance down as if shy and touch him gently. Tell him you’ve been thinking about stuff and he’s the only one who can solve your problems. He’ll puff right up and get all interested. Take it slow. Start with your weight. He’ll say right away you’re perfect and you’ll pout because he’s not taking you seriously. STOP! Stop right there. In his eyes you are perfect otherwise he wouldn’t be with you! Men are simple. Men need a good woman to take care of them. Stop resenting his needs and start anticipating how you can better serve him. That’s part of being submissive. Not a doormat, submissive. Ask him how you should go about losing some weight. Be prepared for graphs and flowcharts detailing calorie burn and watts/hour. Squeal and gush at his macho display, men love when their woman get all gooey when they flex their muscles. Repeat for all the issues you have. To show your gratitude, unzip his fly.

LS

Dear LS,

Wow! I never thought about any of that! Except the unzipping the fly, I can handle that part. But what about the spanking? I want a spanking!!!!!!!

Wannabe

Wannabe,

Don’t make me come over there! Be patient, you’ve waited fifteen years already what’s a few more weeks? Try to follow his schedule. Report to him every other day on your progress. Get him used to being in charge of you and your body. When you crash and burn, and you will, he will be hurt. Men do that when their women don’t follow their magnificent plan of action. Make it up to him. Bring a hairbrush/paddle/belt with you. Kneel at his feet. Tell him how sorry you are. Tell him you want to follow his wonderful plan, but you are too weak, you need his masculinity in order to stay on track. Tell him you’ve earned punishment, but not the cold shoulder, not his disgust. Tell him you’ve earned a spanking. Don’t let him have time to think. Raise your skirt and lay over his lap. Ask him to start with his hand and then use the hairbrush/paddle/belt on your naughty bottom until he’s satisfied you’ve been punished enough. No matter how little or how much he spanks you, do not COMPLAIN, but simple accept his dominance. There will be plenty of time later to discuss what happened. He’ll be guilty, trust me, especially if he bruises you, but thank him in both words and sex. The next day, discuss in a calm and rational conversation how you need regular spankings in order to maintain his plan. Do not accept any lessening of his plan. Men are simple. As long as he thinks he’s simply helping you follow his advice he’ll keep spanking you. Of course, at some point, you’ll be motivated to succeed instead of fail and then, spanking takes on a completely different tone. Let me know how it turns out.

LS

First try at spanking

There was something so soothing about being cradled in a man’s arms, especially after a nice session of loving. Ellen blushed, even though Franklin had been her husband for eleven months, she still felt constrained by her morals. The lights had to be off. She had to be wearing a nightgown. And she’d never done anything other than simply lying down and letting Franklin enter her with his thing. He was patient with her shyness though. He understood the fractured upbringing she suffered. By taking her away and beginning a new life together Ellen was realizing there was more to a marriage than drinking and yelling.

“Franklin?”
“Hum.”
“Do I please you?”
“In what way?”
“You know… in bed… when you love me.”
“Of course you do darling. You’re a wonderful partner and I love you very much. Now get some sleep.”

Ellen laid silently listening to her husband’s breathing and occasional snoring. She couldn’t sleep. Naïve as she was, the friends she’d made in this town all seemed happier and more satisfied with their marriages when it came to loving. Ellen blushed in the dark even thinking the word ‘sex’. To hear her friends gossip there were many things they did and had done to them that Ellen couldn’t even bring herself to acknowledge ever trying. Yet, in the quiet hours of the early morning, if she was honest with herself, she felt unfulfilled with the physical parts of her marriage. If only Franklin was…

After making breakfast for her husband and seeing him off to work, Ellen busied herself with domestic chores. She took pride in a clean house and good cooking. She’d asked Franklin after they were engaged if she would be required to continue her career. He’d firmly stated then it was his responsibility to support her and their children and her responsibility to keep house and be a mother. The mother part had yet to materialize but the doctor had assured Ellen she was normal ‘down there’. She’d been mortified by the exam, her first, but the doctor had been caring if a bit stern. Even Franklin had never seen her so intimately; Ellen frowned at the notion, it seemed wrong some how to deny her husband. The rest of the day passed in a blur until at a quarter to six Franklin returned home. It was Thursday, meatloaf and potato night. Serving him, refilling his glass and listening intently while he vented, Ellen felt very content.

In his den later Franklin was engrossed in reports when there was a timid knock on the door. Ellen entered his sanctum and stood without speaking in front of his desk. “Yes?”
“Franklin? I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone. It’s nothing.”
“Nonsense Ellen. Whatever is bothering you I would appreciate knowing. I am your husband.”
“I know. You deserve better from a wife.”
“What claptrap are you spouting Ellen? I am quite pleased with your efforts as my wife. You provide a pleasant home and good food, what more could a man want?”
“Maybe… I know you’re a man Franklin… you have needs… I’m not very good at, you know, sex.”

Franklin was stunned. His demure Ellen was apologizing for her lack of skills in the bedroom? It was true he had certain ‘needs’, however, demanding his wife provide them was… gauche. He was a gentleman, and gentlemen never took, only coaxed. The stories of fantastic and exotic sex were just that, stories and fables written by men too timid to seek out a real woman.
“I think you’re doing fine Ellen. I am quite satisfied by your efforts to please me. We’ll not discuss this further.”
“But…”
“Enough Ellen.”

She was clearly being dismissed and she obeyed, at first; then determinedly made up her mind. “No Franklin, it is not enough. I am not enough for you. If I am truly to be your wife then my body must also belong to you to use as you see fit. You need more. I want more. There has to more to sex than what we’ve had for the past eleven months. There has to be more Franklin.”
“Are you disobeying me Ellen? I said I was satisfied.”
“What if I am Franklin? I think you’re lying. I think you want to do all sorts of nasty things to me.”
“And how do you know about ‘nasty’ things Ellen? What have you been reading behind my back?”
“Nothing Franklin! My friends talk about their husbands all the time! I can’t help but overhear.”
“Overhear what precisely?”
Ellen was blushing profusely but Franklin’s scolding was melting some of her natural reserve. His dominance was making her squirm. “Susan said she loved to suck Tom’s ‘thing’ until he spurted in her mouth.”
“His thing?”
“You know… his manroot.”
“Ah. His penis. Go on.”
“Laura explained how Samuel licks her down there…”
“Down there Ellen?”
“Her pussy Franklin. Laura loves to have her pussy licked. How come you’ve never tried that with me?”

Franklin stood up and walked around the desk: Ellen instinctively backed-up against the closed door. He bent down and kissed his wife – hard – while gripping her firmly round the waist. He forced his tongue into her mouth, she responded with a faint moan. Releasing her lips he asked her, “What else wife did you overhear?”
Ellen shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Most of my friends are…”
“Yes?”
“Are spanked.”
“Spanked?”
“Yes Franklin, spanked; hard and often if their tales are to be believed.”
“By their husbands?”
“Evidentially.”
“Because?”
“I don’t know Franklin. I was too embarrassed to inquire.”

There was a wingless armchair in the corner of the den. Franklin led his unresisting wife and bent her over his seated knees. Raising her dress he was struck by the realization it was the first time he’d ever seen her bottom in daylight. “Down or up?”
“Down please Franklin. I’ve been a bad girl. I’ve neglected you so much. Spank me hard… please?”

Over the top

The blue spruces shuddered violently. Lightning danced rapidly from menacing flannel clouds approaching the homestead. Heather Parks wrung her hands thinking of her husband Josh driving home in this terrifying weather. He’d been gone a week this time on business and despite nightly calls she constantly worried about his health. Her concern was a constant source of friction. Josh hated being ‘babied’ and Heather had fled in tears after many an argument. If only he would see what she needed, what she craved: he was oblivious to her! As the storm grew harsher so did Heather’s thoughts until the crashing thunder shook dust from the rafters.

“Mom! Where’s my yellow shirt?”

“It’s in the wash! I’m trying to write, have Daddy help you!” Corrine Campos grimaced hearing the horde descending upon her unsuspecting husband. Carmelo was warm and loving, except when it came to women’s work. Old-fashioned to the extreme he would never even consider lifting a finger to help around the house. He supported Corrine and their three children by running his own consulting business and that was enough for him and his mother. She’d found his masculinity overwhelming when they were dating but after ten years of marriage the resentments were reaching the breaking point. When her phone rang; well, Corrine snapped out without checking ID.

“What!”
“My, my Corrine. Testy today?”
“Sorry Roxy. Bad day.”
“I understand. Hate to rain on your parade but ‘Over the top’ needs work, lots of work.”
“I know, I know, I know. I’m editing now Roxy, please give me a little more time.”
“I’m sorry Corrine, but the deadline is Wednesday and if you don’t have a publishable draft by tomorrow the magazine is going to cancel. There’s nothing more I can do. Give me something to sell and I’ll go to the mat for you.”
“Okay Roxy. Tomorrow, I promise. Gotta go, hubby is pounding on the door.”

“What are you doing? Your children are driving me crazy!”
“I’m sorry Carmelo. I was talking to a friend. I’ll be right there.”

Corrine put her computer to sleep and wasted two hours caring for her children before foisting them off on her sister for the rest of the day. Carmelo had left, to go and do who knew what, but Corrine was quite happy to see his BMW squealing out of the gate. Finally: Peace and quiet.

The blue spruces shuddered violently as if in the throes of orgasm. Lightning danced rapidly from the menacing flannel clouds approaching the homestead intent on rape. Heather Parks wrung her hands thinking of her horny husband Josh driving home in this terrifying weather. He’d been gone a week this time on business and despite nightly calls she constantly worried about the health of his penis. Her concern was a constant source of friction. Josh hated being ‘babied’ and Heather had fled in tears after many a blowjob. If only he would see what she needed, what she craved: he was oblivious to her! As the storm grew harsher so did Heather’s thoughts until the crashing thunder shook dust from the rafters. What if she never got a chance to suck on his hard cock ever again?

Josh pulled into the garage amidst hail as large as fists and rain so thick the wipers failed to keep up. He was trembling with fatigue and looked forward to a long, hot soapy shower – by himself. Heather was so needy lately! What was her problem? He was less than pleased to open the door and find Heather on her knees, warm mouth open and blue eyes pleading for his cock. He finally snapped. Grabbing her long blond hair in his calloused fingers he dragged her into the living room and threw her over the back of the couch. Whipping out his belt he proceeded to beat his wife on her rounded quivering bottom while she cried and begged the entire time. When her ass was covered with weals he threw down the belt, stalked to her head, yanked up her head and shoved his cock down her throat.

Heather was in shock. Where was the loving gentle man she’d married? Why was he doing this? Her ass was on fire and while it hurt, the pain was nothing compared to her broken heart. When he pulled out of her mouth she protested again but then he began to pound her pussy each thrust slapping her sore bottom. Heather felt her climax building, the storm continuing unabated, neither one noticing the lights failing or glass shattering. Rain driven by violent winds soaked them as Josh fucked Heather as hard as he could: not caring a whit for her needs. She screamed again, pain was creating pleasure and her soaking wet cunt flooded the cushions. She moaned and writhed until she felt Josh shooting his spunk deep inside.

“What the fuck? What the hell are you doing?”
“Carmelo! Stop that! You have no right! This is private!”
“The hell it is! No wife of mine is going to read this filth!”
“It’s not filth Carmelo! I wrote this for publication, for money!”
“You wrote this perverted trash for money? Money? You whore!”
Corrine slapped her angry husband. “How dare you call me a whore? I am the mother of your children and if I’m a whore then you’re a pimp!”
“You’ve gone too far this time Corrine. I’m the man in this house and I decide what my wife does.”
“Bullshit! I don’t have to take this crap from you! Let me go! I’ll call the police.”
“Fine Corrine, call, but first, I’m going to teach you some long overdue manners!”

Corrine felt herself rapidly thrown over her furious husband’s knees, dress tossed over her head and panties thrown on the floor. Carmelo’s large hand descended in rapid-fire order on her naked bottom punctuated by his stern lecture on proper behavior. Corrine squealed and bucked but her husband had little problems keeping her in her place. “I should have done this on our wedding night! You will obey me Corrine or I’ll spank you every day, twice a day for the rest of your life! Is that clear?”
“Yes sir!” Corrine choked out.

After more than half an hour of spanking, Carmelo threw his weeping wife on their bed and stalked out slamming the door behind him. Corrine reached back and gasped as she felt the heat pouring off her battered ass. Gingerly rolling over she swayed to the bathroom to observe the damage.

“Roxy? It’s Corrine. Don’t bother with ‘Over the top’. I’ve got a new story to write: ‘Disobedient and beaten wife’. Yeah, it’s personal, very personal.”

Too many men want my bottom

You’d think she’d be happy. Men walked into walls as she sashayed by, hips twitching the short skirt tightly bunched around the best ass they’d ever seen. Teasing looks, double entendres and some not so subtle come-hither smiles usually resulted in all the wrong men for all the wrong reasons. Violet loved a good fucking now and then, but being bent over and sodomized lost its thrill after the fiftieth time or so. That’s all men wanted from her. No blowjobs, no cunt fucking, certainly no going down on her, just bend over and spread em. They were obviously watching too much Rocco. Didn’t they know a woman’s bottom was actually made for only one thing? A good hard spanking, preferably with a thick leather belt or paddle until the ass was fire engine red and so hot you could cook eggs on the surface. Then, after setting the stage, a good fucking became a great fucking. Too bad men were such dorks. What did Violet have to do? Wear a skirt saying ‘Spank Me’ across her bottom?

The hand does not make you down*

*A football term

The CLANG reverberated through the house. Charles glanced up with irritation from his magazine. Tsao was still in a snit over his decision to attend the business conference without her. He’d made no promises when they’d gotten married soon after meeting in Singapore. Returning to London with exotic wife in tow had been met with great surprise, but Tsao soon won over his most jaded companions. Compliant and eager, she was also twenty years younger than him and her drive was based on a modern ethos he had grown rich from but had never been a part of before.

After seven months together he smiled whenever he thought of her golden skin flushing as she came with wild shudders. But lately; she’d withdrawn subtly. He tried the usual bribes [furs, jewels, cars] to no avail. Even fronting her fashion line failed to tame the widening schism. Tonight the loud noises from the kitchen drew a scowl on his lined face. Enough was enough.

Entering the kitchen fully prepared for a calm adult conversation, he was stunned to see the carnage. Pots, pans, flour covering the granite countertops: She’d destroyed the ambiance in her fury. “What the fuck is this?”

Tsao stared defiantly at her husband. “THIS! This is your fault Charles! You ignore me and treat me as a piece of furniture! I am woman! Not some cheap whore trotted out for your lecherous associates.”

Charles burned with anger. Tsao went too far. Way too far. He lunged across the slick tile floors, grabbing her arm as she slapped at his hand. Dragging her as she shrilled oaths, he seized a wooden paddle off the damaged counter. Sitting down on a tall bar stool, his petite wife was no match for his dominance: Nor were her designer dress and panties any protection from his righteous rage.

This time, the hard smacking noises in the kitchen caused howls of anguish from the trapped woman. Her silken bottom quickly flared red as Charles pounded out his frustrations on her perfect orbs. “I should have done this on our first date!” he growled.

“I never would have come back if you had!” Tsao yelled back.

Charles’ response was a flurry of sharp pops causing high-pitched squeals and rapid kicking of dainty ankles. He didn’t stop spanking his wife until she was sobbing loudly and her bottom was the color of cardinal. Hanging limply, Tsao didn’t answer Charles when he asked her if she’d learned her lesson. He smacked her twice with his hand.

“Yes sir! I have learned my lesson. Please don’t spank me anymore.”

Charles picked up the paddle off her back and told her she was getting five more hard swats. She moaned, but didn’t resist his final punishing lesson. Charles was quite content with his actions and the grateful blowjob and sex that followed. Perhaps he would have reconsidered had he seen, later that evening, when in the privacy of the master bathroom, Tsao examined her bruised cheeks with pride. Her triumphant smile was schooled into downcast fear when he called.

“Yes Master. I’m coming.” Tsao winked in the mirror and softly clapped her hands in thanks to her ancestors.

Black [and Blue] Friday

Flash Fiction Friday #14 is hosted by Measha this week based on this picture here.

She tried to hide the gifts. It was Christmas after all. She forgot the receipts. He found them. He ordered her into the studio. She waited for him to make music on her bottom. When he was done he would use her bottom in another way for as many seconds as she had charged dollars on her credit card. It was going to be a very long hour of reaming. He hoped she’d learn this time, but honestly, whipping and sodomizing his girlfriend was the best gift she could ever give him. Her tears tickled the ivories.

Anticipation makes her wetter

FFF#11 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

He’d unclipped the leash but kept the blindfold. She strained to hear, then felt his hand caressing her hot bottom. He drew a lone finger along the welts left by the cane: she squirmed, not away, but a mute plea for more. She didn’t deserve his cock in her, but he stroked his hard length, watching her beautiful mouth. In his other hand, a small paddle struck in steady rhythm. Her gasps, his quickening breaths and squishy rubbing: ragged smacks, all noises of passion. Twisted on her side, red lips pursed slowly open and closed eagerly awaiting his tasty sperm.

The perfect costume

An adult story about spanking, sex and very bad words. read with caution


[This is my longest story at 2,000 words and a stroke story.]

It was the first adult- themed party for them both and they were nervous. He had changed his mind about his costume over and over again until settling on a uniformed officer of the law. Mirrored sunglasses, sharp cap, crisp shirt torn at the bulging biceps, tight trousers, thick leather and studded belt topped off with calf height polished black boots. Completing the look were leather cuffs, Pyrex ‘nightstick’, badge and rubber gloves with lubricant tucked in his back pockets.

She was even more indecisive. The usual naughty ______ did not thrill her at all. Hooker? No. Buttoned-down executive with micro miniskirt? Sigh. What she really wanted to wear was so out of character their was no way she could ever get enough courage to pull it off. What changed her mind though was seeing her husband in his costume, posing in the mirror, steadily smacking the glass nightstick in his calloused palm. Her cunt gushed and her knees buckled. It was now or never.

When she appeared – late for the party – he was growing very impatient. He growled when he saw her costume. A floor-length raincoat tightly closed at the neck. Before he snapped at her though he noticed she was pale and trembling. After a quick hug, they drove to the party. Neither talked on the way, her because she was terrified, he because he was puzzled.

‘Welcome to our Decedent Halloween Bash!’ cried their hosts. ‘Can I take your coat dear?’
She closed her eyes summoning her courage to speak. ‘This officer took me into custody this evening. Rather than taking me downtown to file charges, he suggested I serve off my crime at this party instead.’
‘Oooooh, sounds kinky. What did you do?’
‘Suspicion of prostitution and theft.’ She opened her eyes and said to her husband/officer, ‘I’m ready to serve at your pleasure sir.’

Disbelieving he silently asked her for her consent. When she gave it, he reached out and unzipped her coat, letting it fall to the floor. The previously raucous party went silent at her appearance. She was dressed – undressed – in a black lace and red leather corset thrusting her bare breasts out and molding her equally exposed bottom. Her legs encased in silk stockings gripping her thighs, clearly wet with her cunt cream. Four-inch heels thrust her bottom out perfectly and dangling from a leather harness at the base of her corset were leather and wood paddles.

He gazed at his wife/criminal with an expression of raw hunger. She stared back with lust tinged with fear and that look made his cock grow hard. He grabbed her long hair in his fist and unceremoniously dragged her into the large central room. Cleared of furniture for a dance floor, he threw her to the floor and ordered her to get on all fours and present. Humiliated she complied, her breath coming in short pants. When she spread her legs at his command, the light glistened off her soaking cunt and twitching asshole.

He glanced around seeking a suitable place to continue and his host pushed a barstool into the center of the floor. Quickly arranging the overhead track lighting, there was now a brightly illuminated place for her to perform. He made her get up, barking at her with harsh threats, first sitting her down on the stool so he could conduct a cavity search. Starting with her hair, he slowly massaged and relaxed his ‘prisoner’. Opening her mouth, he stuck three fingers in, gently at first and then rougher and deeper until she started gagging. He scolded her and informed her coldly she’d better get over her gag reflex, because her throat was going to be fucked repeatedly.

He seized her breasts, both rigid nipples clamped between his thumbs and forefingers. Squeezing until she moaned, he pulled and twisted causing her back to arch trying to escape the pain. He continued punishing her nipples alternating with sharp slaps to her quivering tits. They turned red under his harsh blows, but she said nothing but gasps of pain. He paused in his torture to choose a volunteer a woman dressed as a sexy nurse and beckoned her forward. He whispered to her what he needed and she agreed to help.

He pushed his wife backwards into the nurse’s waiting embrace, balanced on the crest of her bottom, he asked for two more volunteers, male volunteers. A pirate and a pimp stepped forward. They each took on of the ‘prisoner’s’ legs and bent them back and out until she was suspended in air, only the smallest portion of her bare bottom still touching the stool. While she was being prepared, he snapped on a pair of latex gloves, lubed them and then approached his spread and crying wife. Without any preamble he thrust two fingers deep into her sloppy cunt as it convulsed. Rapidly sawing his hand in and out, he drove her to a hard orgasm.

When her spasms eased, he asked the pirate and pimp to reach in and spread the whore’s cunt lips as far as they good. ‘Get a good grip’ he told them, ‘she’s leakier than a waterfall’. Pinching firmly, her exposed cunt was red with suffused blood, clit engorged and throbbing. He reentered her slowly this time searching and probing all the way back to her cervix. First one finger, then two, three, four and finally, he drove his fist between her splayed labia and ruthlessly fucked her as she screamed. Her legs, tightly bound as they were, still thrashed. Her head dropped and the sexy nurse took advantage by lifting her skirt and thrusting her own sopping pussy over the ‘prisoner’s’ face.

She’d never tasted another woman before, but combined with the thick fist stretching her, the double set of strangers fingers pinching her cunt lips, any reservations fled with the musky fluid flowing into her panting mouth. She was disappointed when they finally stopped tormenting her leaving her on the brink of another orgasm. She would have fallen off the stool, so weak were her limbs, but her husband/officer scooped her up, cuddling her close whispering for only her to hear. ‘Do you want to continue?’

‘Yeeeeeesssssss.’ He smiled in love and awe for his wife’s newfound sexuality. He kissed her hard, the taste of the nurse filling his nostrils. Savagely they tangled tongues, she writhing in his ripped arms begging to be taken. He asked for a cushion, placed it on the stool and draped his wife over the top on her stomach. ‘Thank you,’ as ropes appeared. At a loss, he accepted ‘professional’ help and listened avidly as a guest securely bound his wife’s hands and ankles to the bar stool. The last touch was a thick strap wrapped around her waist so she was unable to move. As a safety measure, the guest hovered close in case the stool became unstable during the next procedure.

‘I am now going to resume the cavity search of the prisoner. What do you suggest next?’ The loud roar echoed off the walls drowning out the music. ‘HER ASS!’ ‘I agree completely.’ He put on a new pair of gloves, placing the used pair in the prisoner’s mouth for safekeeping. There was a cruel laugh from the audience as she blushed furiously at this refinement. He decided against using lube this time, enough fluids had coated her anus to slid a finger in effortlessly all the way through her rectum. He only used one finger though, twirling and stretching the walls of her rectum. Anal was something they rarely did, so he planned to take full advantage of her helpless position. When he pulled out his finger, he announced, ‘She’s clean.’

Boos and hisses filled the area but he held up a hand for silence. ‘She may be clean, but she still needs to be punished for her illegal actions. Luckily, she brought these handy paddles. How many people are here tonight? About seventy-five?’ He thought for a minute then knelt next his wife’s face. ‘Are you sure you want this? I can try to control the amount of spanks, but you’re going to get at least a couple hundred smacks. After… I don’t know what will happen, I would rather you not have sex with anybody except for oral. I want your cunt and ass for myself.’ She turned her head, kissing her husband. ‘Do whatever you want to do to be. I belong to you. I am truly your prisoner and have no right to refuse your demands.’

He stood up and announced the ‘prisoner’ was now ready for punishment. ‘Everyone here is eligible to give her two spanks with either paddle, but only two spanks. I will drop out of character here to explain we’ve never done anything like this before. My wife has never been spanked, never been with a woman and has only had a handful of prior sexual partners. This is not an orgy and she is not to be abused. However, after the spanking, I will be fucking my wife and her mouth will be available to be used by all present. Make sure you treat her well or you’ll be facing the consequences of my law.’

His speech put a damper on the excitement, but only briefly. Orderly lining up, no mean feat considering the amount of alcohol consumed, each partygoer struck her white, pink, red and finally purple bottom until everyone had popped her good. She was howling and crying by the end, but didn’t ever safe out of the scene. Before he spanked his wife himself, he asked for another two stools and cushions. It was only a short time to arrange the sobbing ‘prisoner’ face-down over three stools, legs still bound, but arms now cuffed behind her back, pulled her head up so her chin rested on the edge of the seat, open mouth waist high and ready. After he whacked her with both paddles a total of ten more times, he motioned the crowd to begin fucking his bound wife. As the first man entered her mouth, her husband dropped his pants and stroking his weeping cock to maximum hardness, buried himself in her ass with one harsh thrust.

Her muffled scream around the stranger’s cock nearly made him shoot his load, but he held off as long as he could which was through six men and four women before sperming her rectum. The continued use of his wife’s mouth kept him hard and he resumed fucking her ass shortly. He drew out momentarily to grab the glass nightstick. Working it deep into her cunt, he then shoved back through her anus. The feeling of the glass sliding against the thin rectal walls was amazing and given he’d just cum, he took his time fucking her this time. She was so deep into her role now, there was no pain anywhere, only an upward spiral of lust broken only by occasional orgasms. By the time the last few men were waiting to blow in her mouth, the earlier hard-ons were back and getting a workout in every willing pussy.

The sounds and smells of sex were overpowering and feeling her husband cumming for the third time in her sore ass pushed her over the edge. The biggest cock of the night rammed down her throat as the glass nightstick withdrew from her cunt and slid into her slick gaping ass. Someone’s vibrator attached to her clit and as she fought to breathe around the thick flesh buried in her throat, the world contracted into a single pinpoint of light and faint noise. Her orgasm lifted the stools briefly off the floor with her powerful spasm. She remembered nothing more.

It was morning when she woke. Groaning in pain from everywhere, the only thing she noticed was the scent of lavender and a callused palm smoothing lotion all over her aching body. She croaked through a very sore throat, ‘When can we do that again?’

Oral Worship Day

Cross posted at Erotic Flash Fiction for Sunday Oral Worship Day started by Spanky.

“Honey Dew”

red lips pout
glistening with slick dew
thighs flex
aimlessly she gasps
tongue lapping
inhaling her scent
unique
musky
passionate flows of nectar
coat my taste buds
swallowing her lust
pinned
her arms trapped by my weight
pausing to suck her clit
then
spanking
wet smacks
on wetter folds
red becomes redder
gasps become screams
wet becomes a torrent
I bend my head
to torment her some more
she cries
I smile
she’s mine

Butt that’s so gross!

An adult story about analingus, please read with caution

For Slave sephani and her post with funny cartoon.

He was an unabashed ass-man. Face was fine, breasts ho-hum but give him a plump, round ass, and he’d feast all day. Women though who tolerated his fetish, let alone wanted to be ass eaten were very hard to find. ‘That’s gross! I shit there!’ were the outraged responses from every female he ever dated. Never mind that most of them loved his face in their wet snatches, try and slide his lips down an inch and all hell would break loose.

Then along came the Texas Pistol. Petite, caramel skin, dirty mouth with a mind to match. She loved everything ass, from hard anal to even harder spanking. But most of all, she loved his tongue in her ass. That first swipe was always a surprise, no matter how often he licked her anus, it felt so taboo. The thought of shitting and having him clean her up sent her right over the edge every time.

For him, her scent was intoxicating. Sharp, sweet and bitter at the same time, the odor was overwhelmingly her own. Intimacy in the most primitive form. Face down or legs to her shoulders, when he settled in at her anal opening, he drooled at the sight of the wrinkled folds waiting to be washed by his mouth. The rubbery feel, almost like chewing gum, the slick natural secretions and the pinching tightness, combined with the taste: Pure ambrosia. But the best part came after a good ass fucking when she could suck his cock, and he could lave her gape. That was a real 69.

Why do brats get all the spanks?

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Madison Sutton was a brat. Every male who crossed her path melted at her sweet innocent charm. Bad grades? No problem, a flutter of eyelashes was all it took. No car? Even easier, a cuddle on daddy’s lap and the keys were hers. No date? Hello! Short skirt, drop purse, bend way over and thrust. Cha-ching!

Now in her mid-twenties Madison was finally hitting her stride. No need for a job, a rotation of wealthy suitors kept her well in the black. As she got older the stakes got higher and the gifts more extravagant until none of her boy toys remained dangling on her string. Looking in the mirror, Madison saw an old woman where once a vivacious child had played.

Her new plan meant a job? Horrors! She quickly discovered her many talents were useless in the real world which demanded productivity and results. She pawned jewels and furs, her car was repossessed and the landlord wanted the back rent. Before Madison got so desperate as to apply for retail – ugh – she gave her wily ways one last frantic try.

The club was downscale, the clientele more so, but the stiff cover charge was merely a ploy. Her last one hundred dollars went to the bouncer and he sneered as she slid past. She flirted, she pouted, she flashed; she teased all to no avail. The other girls were all prettier, better dressed or younger: mostly all three. Tipsy and depressed she barely stirred when the shadow loomed over her drooping head.

A calloused hand grasped her chin and gently forced her eyes to meet his. A cotton blend work shirt with a name decal! Polyester pleated pants! Steel-toed stained boots! OMG! It’s the blue-collar freak show! Madison was effortlessly lifted off the stool and held suspended in mid-air by a pair of bulging biceps. Her slack expression and blank stare turned to indignation when rough whiskers and beery lips kissed her hard.

She squealed with outrage and demanded to be put back in her proper place. Right now! He smiled and obeyed her. He returned her to her proper place, he sat on her vacated stool, and she continued to dangle above the floor. This time it was over his bulging lap, bottom up, short skirt raised and thong pulled down to her knees. Not even the thumping bass of the techno dance beat could drown out the sharp smacking noises and the even louder hollers for help.

Help came at last. One by one, her late boy toys came by to pay their respects, beating the brat out of Madison once and for all. Her bare bottom was scarlet by the time the last had left and the blue-collar freak show added some pops with a wooden serving tray for good measure. When he finished blasting Madison’s fiery ass, he stood up, slung her over his right shoulder, and slowly walked out, his handiwork visible to all.

Reaching his car, he deposited the sobbing former brat in the back seat on her stomach, drove home and brought her upstairs to his bedroom. Vitamin-E lotion, an ice pack and pillows awaited Madison on the bed. She whimpered softly and acquiesced to his tender ministrations soon turned to hard penetration deep in her wicked bottom.

When he came, she sighed and said, “Honey, that was the best fantasy you’ve ever given me! How on earth did you round up all my late lovers?”

“They all bring their cars to me for service. I got to talking with each one and we finally figured out the spoiled brat was you.”

“That was a long time ago. I’m glad I could still fit in my school uniform. Do you think I could get another lube job?”

“If you use your suction hose, I’ll see what I can get up.”

When good girls go spanking

An adult story about spanking, sex and bad words read with caution

Kim was horny. The kind of horny when you can gnaw wallpaper in frustration. Her current lamented boyfriend was God knows where and quite frankly, even if he was here instead of there, he was useless in bed. So he had a big dick, so what, he couldn’t use it right, in and out and in and out and in and out. Kim usually did sudoku in her head while giving head and the grocery list while he pounded his head in and out and in and out. The only orgasms she ever got were from her vibrator, ‘Lickin’ Larry’ and the anal probe wand that pulsed.

When the knock came on her door, she was surprised. Looking through the peephole, she was worried. Chain on; open just a crack to ask questions. He was lost – he said – seeking a good girl – he said – living in number 483. Not I – she said – I mean I am a good girl – she said – but this is 383. Oh I’m sorry – he said – I answered an ad from a good girl – he said – looking for a spanking. You can advertise – she said – for a spanking? Yes – he said – that’s what I do – he said – I fulfill good girl’s desires to be spanked.

Well – she said – I am a good girl. Are you in need of a spanking – he said – because I am here and you are there. I am in need – she said – of much more than a spanking. I can meet those needs – he said – after a firm bare bottom spanking is given. How much – she said – do you charge for these services? For a good girl – he said – such as your self – he said – the first spanking is free. That is a very good deal – she said – come on in and sample the goodies. Thank you – he said – I shall and I will. What should I call you – she said – a spanker?

Call me – he said – Good Spanks for Good Girls.

Is spanking sex?

An adult story about spanking, sex and bad words read with caution

Dear Paul,

I realize after fifteen years of marriage, this will come as a great surprise to you, but I have a favor to ask. When you get home from work today, please go upstairs to our bedroom. I’ll be waiting.

Love

Amanda

Paul found the note when he opened his case at the office. He almost rang her up, but then the day got hectic and although he didn’t actually forget the cryptic message, he fantasized about what favor she would request. Paul thought their sex life was adequate and they’d tried nearly everything at least once. Amanda had never voiced any complaints and seemed content. The drive home seemed shorter than usual and Paul fairly bounced up to the master suite. To find, a very ‘great surprise’.

Picture a husband opening the bedroom door expecting to see his wife in say… slinky lingerie, maybe one of his button-down shirts, a mask, a lacy thong, anything within the ordinary. What Paul saw was Amanda, a nude Amanda bent face down over the footboard whilst kneeling on bolsters, thus placing her wide bottom uppermost. Her torso supported by pillows allowing her breasts to brush the bedspread with her hard nipples. Legs were lightly spread open at the calves, just enough to trap a pair of bright red panties. Resting in the small of his wife’s back was a medium size paddle – appeared to be leather – and underneath the paddle, another note.

Dear Paul,

As you may have guessed – you are a very smart man – your wife needs a favor. I want you to spank me. With your hand, this leather paddle I bought online and anything else you may decide to utilize. Before you say anything to me, please, as your loving partner of fifteen years, I ask you spank me once with your hand for each of those wonderful years. After that, I will answer the burning questions I know you have.

Love

Amanda

Paul smiled wryly and stood to the left of his kneeling wife. He raised his hand and gave a tentative smack. There was no reaction from Amanda, so he spanked her again and again. Moving from cheek to cheek it was only a matter of some seconds to spank her fifteen times. So light were his spanks her bottom was unmarked.

“So Amanda, what brought this on?”

Amanda remained in her prone position and answered her husband’s question without turning her head to see his expression. “I’ve been reading about spanking recently and more specifically about spanking in marriages.”

“And you decided it was something to try?”

“Yes sir.”

“Fair enough. But you do understand my trepidation?”

“Yes sir. I do. I know it must seem very strange to you to spank me, a woman who deals with domestic violence on a daily basis at the shelter. It’s very hard to explain my feelings Paul, but bending over like this, knowing you can see everything and can take me in whichever hole you choose, is very, very arousing to me.”

“Interesting. So spanking is… foreplay?”

“I think so. Certainly the knowledge you’d be home tonight and see me like this has had me on edge for weeks. I thought about how it would feel and rather than spank myself, I wanted to give you the first whack so to speak.”

“So how many whacks and how hard and what exactly do you expect from me?”

“Can we take it slow? Maybe spank me for a minute and then see how it feels?”

Paul took her at her word and spanked her for a minute. Amanda’s bottom was now the faintest hint of pink, but she was frustrated at how tender Paul was being with his blows.

“Paul? You can spank me much harder. I promise I won’t be upset with you. Please?”

Paul hesitated for a moment. This was the woman who adamantly refused to ‘obey’ in the wedding vows. Who kept her name and had separate bank accounts. The woman who marched in every protest: who worked for Hillary Clinton in the campaign. He was having a hard time reconciling that woman with the one draped over the king size bed.

“OK honey. Here’s another minute spanking you harder.”

This time the sound clearly echoed off the walls as Paul laid into his wife’s quivering bottom with gusto. He figured if he spanked her hard enough, she’d change her mind and they could get on with sex. The last twenty seconds were a barrage of spanks as hard and as fast as he could make them.

When he stopped, he rubbed his hand over her blushing cheeks, the redness now brighter and he was surprised to feel how warm the flesh had become. Amanda crooned as his hand explored her bottom and she arched even higher, waggling her hips to entice his hand lower. When Paul dipped into her crevice and underneath, he was shocked to find her dripping wet. A simple touch to her open slit had her groaning and Paul was all set to strip down and plunge in deep from behind.

“Please wait sir. I need more. The paddle, use the paddle.”

The pleading tone in Amanda’s voice was something he’d not heard in years and picking up the paddle and rubbing it across her bottom had Amanda moaning in anticipation. Paul raised the paddle and bounced it off one cheek.

“Harder.”

Another blow to the other cheek followed.

“Again.”

Paul continued, sometimes fast and sometimes, long pauses between blows. He watched utterly fascinated as Amanda’s hips gyrated in wide circles. She thrust her hips up so high he could clearly see the dampness on her upper thighs and the pulsing of her anus. She urged him on to paddle her harder with pleas and sighs until her bottom was a bright, even red.

She whimpered when he stopped, complaining until he rammed his rock hard cock all the way to her cervix. His pelvis slapped her sore bottom and she screamed out her first orgasm. He grabbed her waist pulling her back and forth violently using her sopping cunt to fuck his cock. As they fucked, the redness on her bottom slowly faded and Paul, seized by the moment, suddenly pulled out and began spanking Amanda again with his hand. She squealed and raised herself up on her arms, moving her bottom back to meet the blows.

“Use the paddle again Paul. Use it between my cheeks. Please!!!!”

She collapsed on her face, reaching back to spread her hot bottom as wide as she could. There was just enough room between her fingers for Paul to use the handle on her crack. He carefully smacked her and she screamed.

“Oh that stings!”

“Do you want another?”

“Yes sir! Right on my naughty butt-hole!”

Paul raised an eyebrow but spanked her sharply on her naughty butt-hole. He wondered if his wife would treat him to some anal next and he was quite happy when after ten stinging blows to Amanda’s anus, she wanted more.

“Oh Paul. My butt-hole is numb and feels so tender. Fuck it. Fuck my ass! Punish that naughty ass for being a slutty girl.”

Paul fucked her pussy first for some lubrication and when he tried in insert a wet finger or two, Amanda stopped him.

“Just ram your cock into my ass Paul. Make it hurt!”

Her rectum was so tight and hot it was impossible to ram in, but steady pressure with a single thrust had Paul buried to his balls in Amanda’s ass. The tightness, her crying with the pain, the heat of her spanked bottom all combined to have Paul unloading within minutes.

Amanda’s fingers were a blur as she rubbed her clit and came after Paul was softening in her sore ass.

Later when they had cleaned up and had dinner, Amanda and Paul talked late into the night. Amanda made it very clear that for her, spanking was a sexual act and she had no desire to have a disciplined marriage. If you are ever in the mood Paul, put me over your knee, pull down my panties and spank my bottom until I demand to deep throat your cock.

“You mean like this?”

Once more the echoes of spanks and a pleasured woman filled the bedroom.

All-American Football Star

An adult story about spanking and sex and very bad words, read with caution

JayCee couldn’t wait to surprise her husband Terrence. He didn’t expect her until this evening, but she’d caught an earlier flight. Letting herself in the gate and the front door, the mansion was silent. She set her bags down and went searching for him. He wasn’t in the game room or the media center and since she wanted to sneak up on him quietly, she didn’t call out or call his cell. She finally heard faint moaning from behind the master bedroom and her blood ran cold when she heard him groan. “Yeah, just that like baby. Deeper, that feels soooo good.”

JayCee slowly opened the doors in a trance expecting the worst. What she saw was so incomprehensible she shrieked. Her 6′ 8″ 275 ripped pounds of stud wide receiver, All-American, Pro-Bowler and Super Bowl star was face down on their king size bed, naked and writhing with – as far as she could tell – her pink vibrator shoved up his ass!

“JayCee! You’re home!”

“What the fuck are you doing!”

“I can explain baby, I can explain!”

“No! Leave it in and tell me what the hell you are doing with my Rabbit plunged up your chocolate starfish!”

“Baby, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I… I don’t know baby. I missed you and I saw your toy… I was…”

“Gay? Are you queer? Is this a locker room thing?”

“No baby. I ain’t no fag.”

“What would your mama say if she saw you like this? I know she didn’t raise her man to be no sissy boy. I’ll bet she’d whip your ass from one side of the house to the other.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Why didn’t you just jerk off? I don’t get it! What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing baby, nothing’s wrong with you. Please believe me. I love you and you’re so hot.”

“Humph. I’ll bet you say that to all the groupies. Hoes.”

“I’ve never cheated on you baby. Never!”

“You don’t call this cheating?”

“No, of course not.”

“You did start without me.”

“What?”

“Stay there, don’t move and don’t you dare take that vibrator outta your fine ass.”

JayCee raced down to the trophy room and lifted Terrence’s fraternity paddle off the wall. This was going to be fun as she hurried back to his side.

“Listen to me sissy boy and listen good. You wanna get back into my good graces, I’m going blister your ass until I feel you’ve learned your lesson! Now put that ass nice and high in the air and let me knock some sense into you.”

JayCee drooled seeing the sight of those chiseled thighs, the meaty calves and the tight buttocks, parted in the middle with a shocking pink vibrator sticking out. Even better was his flaccid cock and loose balls dangling straight down. Ten inches of man meat awaited her attention after she spanked the hell outta his naughty ass. She swung the paddle hard and popped his flesh repeatedly, his squeals and groans sending a flood of heat to her twat. She didn’t want to stop, but feeling the raging heat on his skin turned her into an animal. She shoved him sideways and then on his back. She dove on his cock, semi-hard now and sucked and sucked until it was at full length. She grabbed the end of the vibrator and begin moving it in and out.

“Does this feel like I’m fucking your ass? Don’t you wish I had a real cock right now to sodomize you hard and deep like you do to me? Make you scream like I do when you plunge fast to the hilt?”

She resumed her blowjob determined to milk his sperm. When he finally blew his load, she took it all over her face and rubbed her fingers in the sticky mess, licking and preening like a panther. He winced when she yanked the vibrator out. “I’m gonna take this ass just as soon as I can order me a strap-on. You wanna be my sissy boy and get fucked by your wife?”

“Yeah baby, I do. Go deep, go long and hit me when I’m open.”

“She scores!!!!!!!!!!”

You may now spank the bride

An adult story about spanking and sex and very bad words, read with caution

In the year of our Lord 1273, marriage was for the nobility. The serfs, peasants and general workers who comprised the majority of the population were left to their own devices even if a priest was available. Various rituals existed in many cultures to bond two young people together for the sake of the children usually already on the way. In the tiny hamlet of Whipping-Hollow-On-Butterbum-Reach however, there was a very different ritual performed on the rare occasion of Holy Matrimony betwixt and blushing maiden and an untried boy. Here in this place the bride was given away by the groom’s parents; the groom by the bride’s parents. [*If unavailable due to plague, war, malnutrition or general misfortune then appropriate substitutes would be arranged.]

Perhaps thrashed away would be a better term. The morning of the wedding, the respective parents* would arrive at the hovels of the soon-to-be-in-laws and request permission to enter. This was done simultaneously and the bride/groom would politely bade their new parents* to enter the dwelling. Once inside, what the parents* found would be a nude groom/bride standing next to wedding finery. This was done, the nudity, to ensure there were no malformations in the bodies of the engaged. For the bride, she was also subjected to a physical exam to insure an intact hymen [unless a certificate of prior breakage was notarized and signed by thirteen male witnesses] and proper function of mouth, nipples and anus. If satisfied, the bride’s new in-laws would then bathe her thoroughly but lovingly as a new daughter and dress her in preparation to join their household.

The groom was also inspected and his new mother-in-law would ensure he possessed a proper and suitable cock stand for their daughter being given away in the hovel down the lane. The foreskin was carefully washed and then the groom’s father-in-law would direct the groom in the proper manner to use a woman’s mouth and throat. After spending his large load in his mother-in-law’s mouth [he had abstained from solitary vice for a month] she would then solemnly reveal her vagina and anus to her son-in-law and give general instructions on the proper usage of both holes. He would be ordered to rigorously use all three orifices of their daughter that afternoon and into the early morning hours. Both were told to be ready to offer proofs the following day. The groom was then also bathed and clothed and the respective parties then left the hovels and made their way through the hamlet to the center green for the ceremony.

The procession wended its way past each dwelling and stopped in turn. For in the tiny hamlet of Whipping-Hollow-On-Butterbum-Reach, the bride and groom were fully clothed, except for the opening in the back that framed the entire surface of the bare bottom. This bare bottom was given a single stroke with a willow cane at every hovel by the respective parents*. Thus by the time the moist-eyed bride and groom reached the green, they each sported thirty red stripes on formally pristine bottom cheeks. Once at the green, the bride and groom knelt side-by-side and leaned forward, thus prettily presenting themselves for further spanking.

The priest would begin the ceremony and when he asked who it was who gave away the bride, this was the cue for her new in-laws to strike her bottom hard with a thick leather strap created for this day. She received as many strokes as her age – thus providing a reason for parents to delay a daughter’s marriage – and after each one, she thanked God for her humbling chastisement. The groom received exactly the same, except his blows were delivered with a paddle also made special for the day. When the vows were exchanged, the parents* switched sides and implements and delivered ten spanks to their own children for the last time as single individuals. After the ring and the pronouncement by the priest of, “You may now spank the bride”, there was one last test for the painfully suffering and newly minted crying wife. Over her new husband’s knee she willingly went, he sitting on his sore bottom and with loving scrupulousness he used both the strap and paddle – gifts to the newlyweds – until he was completely satisfied the meaning of ‘Honor and Obey!’ had been imprinted on her swollen buttocks.

There of course was still the deflowering to occur and most couples at this point decided it was too far and too painful to walk to their new home and thus consummated their marriage right then on the green in front of the rapt inhabitants of the tiny hamlet of Whipping-Hollow-On-Butterbum-Reach. She would bend over her scarlet ass reaching for the clouds and he with his rampant prick plunging hard into virgin womb, that pain unnoticed in the scorching flames as her husband’s torso spanked her over and over again until he flooded her no longer virgin vagina with his impregnating sperm for the first of many times in succession.

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.

Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

So unfair! I did nothing wrong!

An adult story about spanking, read with caution.

FFF#4 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

No words could express her mortification. Face down her pain was acute. Sore eyes lingering on the now denuded ring finger, Marguerite’s tormented mind whipped back, earlier that evening, when, on a foolish whim, wore a sexy costume for her fiancé, the Duke of LaMont. Brutal and swift was his response. ‘No duchess of mine shall behave as a wanton trollop. Such childish behavior shall not go unpunished.’

Fresh tears welled in Marguerite’s sore eyes. She murmured plaintively, ‘It is his birthday, all I requested was that he unwrap me as his gift, spank me soundly and take my virginity.”

The Blind Date

… not blind as in can’t see, but blind date as in the man/men your well-meaning but rather stupid girlfriend/s keep setting you up with. [That’s very poor grammar and I need a hard spanking.]

An adult story about spanking and sex, read with caution

Mary woke the morning after the night she never wanted to end. Robert – the blind date – had called precisely at 7:30 pm and she, being a woman, was not ready. It was her prerogative she told him politely. All I need is a little freshening up and we can leave. Robert put his foot down. It is my prerogative to deal with your lateness so it does not become habitual. Mary suddenly found herself spun round, bent over and a hard hand swiftly spanking her bottom through her pleated wool skirt. Ten smacks later, upright and in shock, Robert told her he was leaving in five minutes, with or without her.

Three minutes and twenty-five seconds later, Mary was on Robert’s arm. The only freshening up she managed to do was a change of knickers. Plain, wet white ones for a black, lace thong… plus several spares in case he spanked her again… or not. Robert opened the passenger door to his gleaming Lexus and told her to wait. Squeezing her chin in his hand he dictated the evening’s schedule. Rather than bridling at his dominance, Mary returned his gaze boldly and said yes sir. Robert smirked, good girl. That remains to be seen thought Mary.

As if hearing her willful thoughts, Robert watched her carefully as she slid into the car legs together as a lady should. Nodding with approval he drove off into the sunset towards their destiny. It’s a restaurant called Sunset Destiny. The valet opened the doors and waited for Robert to escort his lady inside. Mary bit her lip and ever so daringly flashed just the hint of black lace as her long legs swung to the pavement. The valet jumped in the driver’s seat and Robert told him to wait. Mary he ordered, turn around and place your hands on the trunk and thrust your bottom out. Mary obeyed, blushing to her roots and locked eyes with the stunned valet. Fifteen harder smacks later, the car was gone and so was Mary’s heart.

The food was excellent, the service was impeccable and one glass of wine turned into two and then three. Robert made no demands, no observations and no threats: only witty and broad conversation, lots of smoldering glances and some daring footsie under the table. Mary was determined to push all Robert’s buttons: baiting a bear be damned, Robert was hers no matter the price. For someone who’d never been spanked prior to this evening, his mastery was flaming a conflagration that threatened to consume her soul. It was all she could do not to climb on the table and beg for his cock. She fanned her face and excused herself. The spare knickers were calling urgently.

The same valet rushed Robert’s car to the entrance, received his fifty-dollar tip and waited eagerly for a repeat performance. He was not disappointed. Mary, slightly tipsy, carelessly flopped into the passenger seat revealing to Robert’s disapproving eyes, a flash of pink. Wet, glistening pink. Mary smiled guilelessly. Robert hauled her out and flung her over the warm bonnet. Her bottom suddenly exposed to the cool evening and any who chanced to look. Twenty very hard spanks rang out in the silent courtyard. The sound of flesh on flesh ringing off the stone walls and drawing the intense interest of every patron.

Where are your knickers? In my purse… several dry pairs. Robert reached in and grabbed a pair. Mary remained bent over and nude from the waist down. She felt him squat down, she shivered, the impulse to submit was now overwhelming. She didn’t care about the audience, she didn’t care about the juices running down her thighs, she wanted to be taken, branded by her newfound master. Robert touched an ankle, she raised a foot and he slid the knickers over one and then the other. Raising them to calf level, he ordered her to pull them up. No, stay bent over and don’t you dare drop your skirt.

At her apartment, she asked him in: for a ‘nightcap’. She offered herself. Begged and pleaded. Robert informed her he did not have sex on a first date. However, he was very displeased with her behavior. I know said Mary. What must I do to atone? Strip naked and bend over the arm of your leather couch. Mary shed her clothes like rain in a desert and presented her faintly marked hindquarters in a classic pose. Forty extremely hard spanks rocked her naughty backside and when it was over, to Mary’s sorrow, Robert bade her stand, hands behind her head. He looked her up and down, noting her arousal in her face, neck, breasts and genitals.

I will pick you up at 7:00 pm tomorrow. You will be dressed and waiting for me: on your knees, in the foyer. While you service me and swallow my seed, I expect you to be remembering this evening. Is that all sir? No dear Mary. I wish a full report, in writing, of your masturbatory exploits whence I depart soon. I demand at least six orgasms from you this evening or you will face the wrath of my cane. Yes sir! Thank you sir!

Of course, you’ll be caned either way.

Robert kissed Mary firmly on her quivering lips, his hands finally roaming freely over her back and tender bottom. He slipped a finger over her anus and into her sopping slit. She came in a shattering wave of pleasure. That doesn’t count darling. Good night and sleep well.

“I’m gonna whip your ass until I can cook bacon”*

*For my Jewish readers: “I’m gonna whip your ass until I can smoke lox”
*For my Muslim readers: “I’m gonna whip your ass until I can roast lamb”
*For my Hindu readers: “I’m gonna whip your ass until I can fry nan”

An adult story about spanking and sex and very bad words, read with caution.

“Beating up my inner feminist”

I suppose y’all think I’m a beaten down, trailer trash, crack smoking barefoot and pregnant whore for wanting to be whipped, but I ain’t. I blame my daddy – God rest his soul – for my pecccadilloes: and don’t think for one cotton-pickin’ minute I don’t know what that word means. Daddy used to whup my ass every Sunday before church, just so’s I would pay attention to the preacher. Lord I miss my daddy. He raised me right, tried to beat the sass outta me – and failed -, but I know he loved me. Told me to stay in school or else; the principal damn near wore out the paddle on my naughty butt and momma made sure I paid with blisters for every C I brought home.

Thing is, that’s what I want from a man, a real man that is. Not the lowlife cretins covered with sores and staggering drunk before noon. No, a blue-collar man: with grease under his fingernails, a hunting license and a big dick that I can suck until the cows come home. With a good job, a home and a 4×4 with a light bar and monster tires. Now that honey, is a real man and when he fingers his belt, and growls at my back talking, I don’t want a lecture, I don’t want reason, I don’t want some pansy assed college boy telling me how a lady should behave: I want a good whipping that makes my cheeks flaming red and my feminist snatch drippin’ wet and horny! There ain’t no real men left in this world. Too interested in spa treatments for crying out loud. The only crying in my house is when the leather meets the sassy, big-bottomed, feminist who needs a good spanking to put a smile on her face. So cowboy up and get busy with your little woman: she’ll be ever so grateful.

There was a brief silence and then gasps from her audience. “Oh! That is so nasty and dirty Florence Lee! Bravo! That is your best story yet!”

“Why thank you kindly Clara Sue. Do have some of my watercress and cheese canapé. Emma made them this morning.”

“Emma is a treasure Florence Lee. Are you sure you can’t see your way clear to part with her?”

“Not on your life Betty Jo. You keep away from my domestics if you know what’s good for you.”

“Ooh, that sounds like a threat.”

“I’ll mention to Jenson what you were up to last Saturday night Betty Jo.”

“You wouldn’t you dare.”

“Watch me.”

“Now ladies. Simmer down. We’re all friends here and no need to be dragging our husbands into our… business. I for one don’t need a red bottom again.”

“Who are you kidding Clara Sue! Bo has spanking elbow from the amount of punishment you make him dish out. Tart!”

“Is that so Florence Lee? This story of yours you read to us, it wouldn’t have anything to do with the new mechanic down at Pee-Wees? I did see you there yesterday on the way to Susan’s to have my hair done.”

“Well…”

“I thought so. What happened?”

“I forget my purse and since I couldn’t pay… I asked for credit.”

“And Mr. Blue Collar said?”

“You’re lucky you’re not my woman Mrs. Thompson. Trying to slide out from paying for a lube job deserves a dress up, bent over stick your naughty bottom up high, panties down good old-fashioned switching with willow branches.”

“I must take my car in tomorrow!”

“Me too! You can’t have all the fun Florence Lee.”

If at first you don’t succeed…

An adult story about spanking and sex and very bad words, read with caution.

Try as she might, Brandy could not entice Daryl into spanking her. Short shorts pulled tight, flirty miniskirts flying up in the breeze, skintight jeans molded to her curves, nothing worked. Oh he would flip up the skirt or yank down her shorts quick enough, but aside from some token slaps – psyching himself up, being manly and all that- he’d just shove his seven inch cock in her cunt and fuck her senseless. Sometimes, if she was lucky, he’d use her ass instead and once in a fucking blue moon she’d get really lucky when after reaming her out good, he’d end up cumming in her mouth. So yes, Daryl was kinky, but on his own terms. He watched too much porn, drank too much beer, watched way too much football and generally was a pain in the ass like all men are. His one redeeming quality was his large hands and the way he looked at her when she pissed him off. OK, that’s two redeeming qualities but since he never acted on the ‘I’m gonna whip your ass until I can cook bacon on it stare’ it doesn’t count. So ladies, what does it take to get your man to spank you?

R.I.P 9/11/2001

An adult story about spanking, read with caution.

This is a response to the Flash Fiction Friday #3 at The Daily Toast based on this picture.

The long nights before the first anniversary of 9/11 were the worst for Corrine. That picture, the one of him laughing, shirtless, sweaty, his helmet tipped back and his rippled chest still sent tingles to her pussy. But sex wasn’t what she missed the most. Every time she cleaned his gravestone and left fresh flowers, she cried with remembered pain and pleasure. She was lost without his steady guidance, devoted love and strong will bending her firmly over his knee. Terrified of the hard hairbrush at first, now, Corrine would give anything for one more scorching whipping with his belt: anything.

In lieu of candy

“Spank Me Hard!… Please?” is a result of of too many stories and too many pictures on the internet. Although it seems very easy to find a spanking partner/s with all the many sites and forums online, it is also very difficult to negotiate the nuances of the ‘scene’. For many spankos the idea of being spanked in public is more thrilling as a fantasy than as an actuality. While there is safety in numbers at a party, letting someone you’ve never met spank you is always a bad idea. Being submissive doesn’t mean agreeing to being abused. It is likely the majority of spankos are content to practice spanking in private with a single partner. The problem though, as stated by many bloggers, is that it is very rare for two spankos to meet before they become a couple. In other words, spanking is not mainstream enough to be discussed on a casual date for most people. And it seems that many women and some men desire to be spanked later in life from their partner and many times that partner is not only unwilling but rather freaked out about this strange new kink. Perhaps if sex-ed treated ‘fetishes’ as within the normal range of sexual behavior and not something dark and deviant, there would be more happy spanking marriages and less divorce.

“He’s sick”

Not what she expected for their 10th wedding anniversary or any other occasion, even for a ‘socially’ accepted birthday tradition, it was still too much. She wanted a vacation, would have been fine with a day spa and would have settled for a nice night on the town.

“So what did he give you?” asked Stacey’s lawyer curiously.

“A cane, a paddle and a butt plug!” she said sarcastically.

“And he expected you to agree to being… beaten?”

“No. He wanted me to beat and sodomize him!” Stacey said with disgust. “I had no idea he was such a pervert. I’m sure he got these deviant ideas from the internet.”

“Well, that is grounds for divorce. Perhaps you’d like surveillance; in case he’s also seeing someone else? A professional so to speak?”

“No, I just want the creep out of my life and away from the kids. Who knows want he wants to do to them!”

“I agree completely Stacy, people like him should be locked up as a menace to decent society.”

  • Corrupted

    Now available, "Corrupted", an anthology from Sexy Little Pages, including my short story, Ghosting Past Emily. Click the picture for ebookstore links.

  • Ghosting Past Emily — part of the Corrupted anthology

    After Amsterdam and Berlin, Tokyo was her favorite place to explore the latest in technological sexuality. Unlike in Europe though, in Japan she would always be gaijin, and the locals off limits to her needs. On the crowded streets of Ginza she felt the stares and heard the unspoken contempt, Go back to where you came from, which was something it had in common with America. She was too tall, too confident, too yellow and most of all, too female. She channeled the perceived insults into taboo actions.
    It was a tired and bitter Emily that touched down ten hours later in a San Francisco of bone-chilling damp and a watery rising sun. She needed a hard session at the Armory before returning to work on Monday. Her slave had better be ready to grovel and be pussy-whipped.

  • Purchase: The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    Click the picture to purchase, The Case of the Disciplined Valentine.

  • The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    A comedy of Victorian manners mixed with delicious spankings and sexual encounters guaranteed to raise even a vampire’s blood pressure. Byron Cane sets a torrid pace in his historical paranormal erotic novella.

    It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Sir Nachton MacRath is warily returning to his home isle after decades abroad. He has good reasons to steer clear of the Royal Family, but is immediately snared by the Queen herself, who anoints him, Her Chastiser of Loose Morals, complete with elevation to the upper reaches of the aristocracy. Rather than a quiet existence as a vampire, he is now a Peer uneasily rubbing shoulders with the most powerful men in the Empire.

    Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but like all her contemporaries, longs for some excitement and romance. Valentine’s Day is only weeks away, when their paths cross with a bump. Despite later discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. The more encounters with Sir MacRath she has, the more her body yearns to know what it is to submit to his vampiric touch. When he reluctantly agrees to be her Valentine, thus begins a Domination and discipline the likes of which she’s never dreamed.

    MacRath doesn’t feel he deserves Phoebe’s love, and attempts to push her away by taking her deeper into sexual submission. She surprises him — and herself — by eagerly submitting to his every desire. Together, they explore the sensual heights that a woman and a man — a vampire — can reach. But politics and conflict are never far away, and the Valentine’s Day deadline comes all too soon.

    Note: The original version of this book was included in the Lust in Lace paranormal romance anthology.

  • Purchase: The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

    Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie by clicking the picture.

    Pity poor Stephanie: twenty-five years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fashionista with a good job and an all-round delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm, leading both men and women to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault; genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end and a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline. If someone needed to spank her, well, obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.
    When Stephanie crashes (quite literally) into the life of Ross, high flying exec in the fashion world and eligible bachelor, she is stupefied he wants her as his. Under Ross’ tutelage, as Brat to his Sir, she learns that she can be spanked for more than just being naughty! And Ross — he discovers there’s much more to Stephanie than just her submissive need to be disciplined, as he falls more and more in love.
    A brilliantly funny, light-hearted, spanking erotic romance novella by Byron Cane, with memorable characters and a beautiful love story interwoven into the sexiness, lending a contemporary twist to the princess fairy tale.

  • Lust in Spring

    Click picture to go to Lust in Spring Amazon page

  • Lust in Spring anthology

    In Byron Cane's, The Witch of Olympus Hollow, it’s 1952, and Gale Johnson is outraged when her parents send her packing to a tiny town in Appalachia to visit the mysterious great aunt she has never met. In the foothills of North Carolina, Gale will discover a wondrous birthright. A lifetime of discipline and sexual satisfaction awaits, but her destiny comes at a cost.
  • Lust in Lace

    Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

  • Lust in Lace anthology

    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.
  • PNRLUST

  • Paranormal Erotic Romance

    Come visit the Paranormal Erotic Romance website for information about the Lust anthology series. Read Lust by the Sea, Lust on the Wing, Lust in Tooth and Claw, Lust in Winter and Lust in Lace.

  • ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ Oops. Does that date me? These are the top posts.

  • Back writing 6/30/16 short stories and a spanking novel