erotica – Page 10 – Spank Me Hard! … Please?

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 23)

October 28, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

Gentle Reader: do not be alarmed. The description I am about to reveal was not gleaned in one visit but rather a compilation over my year at Peacock House. Contrary to the bestowed title, there were no guns stored inside: only instruments of discipline and for arousal. Interspersed with oils of hunting hounds and stately homes were canes, strops, paddles, chains and clamps hung from tarnished brass hooks. Other items as well, leather wrapped tubes, ivory horns, plugs of India rubber and other esoteric artifacts in chestnut cedar-lined drawers. Padded tables and chairs sat against walls papered with ancient Rome.

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 22)

October 27, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

“There you are Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers swept in with the force of a November gale. “His Lordship informs me he is finished using you today.” She drank a cup of tea and nibbled a scone while studying me thoughtfully. “The evening meal will be at eight. Until then…” She tapped her foot. “Come with me Ruby.” I followed dutifully in her formidable wake. Lifting a key on her chatelaine she unlocked the stout door I vaguely remembered from earlier. “I traditionally assign the Gun Room cleaning duties to the newest maid. I expect with your temperament you’ll be here often.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 21)

October 24, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

“Thank you miss,” I murmured. “Do not thank me Ruby,” Miss Frothinglips said stiffly, “I will collect my due.” I shivered… not completely in fear. There were tea and pastries laid out in the kitchen: a steady rotation of maids came and went. Two of the footmen strode in: I blushed and hastily averted my gaze. Their trousers were buttoned down in the back, the open flap exposed red striped flesh. Emily and Louisa shuffled by, eyes downcast and skirts rucked up: their bottoms were bruised and scarlet. I gasped involuntarily. The narrowed sideways glances promised retribution at my clothed appearance.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 20)

October 23, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

All coherent poise fled on downy wings as his hard finger pads grabbed my quim. Palm and thumb rubbed: I fell into the abyss of sin once more. If not anchored firmly on both ends, the chair and I would have splattered. His Lordship forced two crises. I panted, sloe-eyes lidded, in my mouth his wet hand replaced hers, as a mongrel bitch in heat, I lapped and suckled digits, my carnal appetite apparently insatiable. Two hard feminine slaps. I unsteadily clambered off the chair. My uniform restored, hem to mid-shin, eyes downcast, cheeks marked. Miss Frothinglips led me away.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 19)

October 21, 2016lurvspanking1 Comment

“Poor show Ruby, I expected better from you,” His Lordship remonstrated. “I do not wish to hear such pathetic bleating again. Perhaps a long session with Mrs. Cleanknockers will teach you proper forbearance.” I could not stem my copious tears. “M’lord,” Miss Frothinglips wiped my cheeks dry, “have pity, it is after all her first day at Peacock House. She did a splendid work upon your tomes: the gilt fairly gleams.” Head bowed I did not see my tormentors pass wicked thoughts. “Very well,” m’lord grumped. I flinched when he once more touched my hot dry flesh above: wet below.

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A vote for Eleanor will mean a pumpkin in every pot

October 17, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

On a personal note, my friend Ina Morata is one of the featured authors at the Battle of the Beasts. Her entry is included in the Lust in Tooth and Claw anthology and I urge you to Vote for Eleanor as your favorite beast. She is the second row, third column.

I wrote the following review of Ina’s story. Leanan Sidhe and the Wordsmith is a deeply erotic horror novella from the brilliant imagination of the renowned author Ina Morata. The story opens with Andy Marshall deposited as a half-drowned scrivener on the shores of an Irish isle out of legend. He received an offer to be writer-in-residence the last week of October, and, like many a man who fell victim to lust, has been led through the lashing rain not by his pen, but by his throbbing erect sword. Andy dreams of glory and fame and ‘Miss Leanan’ is offering both sight unseen. When he arrives he meets the carver-in-residence and is taken aback by both his talent and his haunted pallor. The carver tries to explain that She is everything but Andy spies Eleanor in the glow of the fireplace casting no reflection and he is instantly ensnared by her feral eroticism. For Eleanor is the Leanan Sidhe and Andy Marshall has been lured to witness the ancient rituals of sex and rebirth in exchange for every written masterpiece and wanton fantasy locked inside his mortal soul.

Leanan Sidhe and the Wordsmith is an arousing literary retelling of the classic human desire for fame and fortune at any cost. Only the reader can determine for themselves whether the price paid was worth the journey to the windswept mansion that lies a portal away from fairy fantasy.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 18)

October 16, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

Streaks of flame lanced my bulge. Miss Frothinglips stood close before me. She allowed my arms around her corseted waist, wrists locked at small of her back. Her hands combed my hair: lawn handkerchief caught my tears. The pain from the leather strap radiated, one stroke only absorbed before the next burned ever hotter. M’lord did not hold back, twas not his style, but beat me hard all the while I writhed and cried for Miss Frothinglips’ pleasure. Still, shameful treatment as it was, my sex throbbed and oozed with each searing blow. At the last excruciating swipe I screamed.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 17)

October 15, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

I was released of a sudden and directed to set my shod feet upon the oak floor. I was so combustible I feared the act of walking to the storage closet would cause an explosion. “Before Miss Frothinglips escorts you to dinner, there is the slight matter of discipline and reward.” I was not so subtly nudged towards a red leather wingback chair. She bade me straddle backwards, knees balanced on padded arms, pushed my upper torso down until bodice and arms dangled over the top. My skirt was yanked even further wide and tucked beneath waist. “Twenty more Ruby.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 16)

October 14, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

“May I m’lord?” Miss Frothinglips’ gentle dulcet vowels contrasted sharply with her strong thumbs as they dug into my rear crease. Her nails bit. My knuckles slowly whitened. The pail rattled against the stile. “Jut your buttocks outward Ruby,” His Lordship commanded. He clasped my hands where they clenched the rungs: the vertical lean barely accommodated his bulk. I dipped my knees and squatted, by sore bottom mooned rudely. Eight dainty digits peeled my peach, I felt warm puffs of air; her thumbs prodded my soaked purse, a forefinger pressed my rosebud. “Mr. Steedstiff will appreciate this naughty one m’lord.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles Chapter 2: (Part 15)

October 13, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

She was the epitome of aristocratic womanhood sprung whole from oil paintings of old. Of medium height, with walnut tresses coiled atop softly rounded serene hazel-green eyes, her pale complexion gazed with utmost confidence of her station. Miss Frothinglips was Lord Caneshard’s ward, social hostess and, with supercilious hauteur, regularly drained the footman of inferior seed. All this, and perfect diction. I hated her. I tucked the pail in my crook and with careful steps made my way near the floor. Chilled silken palms lightly slid over my ankles, up my calves and near my dampened thighs. “You are aroused.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 14)

October 10, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

The slanted beams of thick rich light struck the brass railing as I cleaned the last of the uppermost books. All afternoon steady commerce flowed through m’lord’s hands: I’d listened with uncomprehending ear to the litany of complaints, compliments and conclusions. On occasion, male hands had grasped the ladder sides and carefully maneuvered me further along the shelves. I’d murmured my thanks. They’d taken recompense by avid examinations of my revealed charms safely out of reach. A mechanical cough heralded the deep bong of half past from the mantel clock. “Ah, Miss Frothinglips, assist Ruby as she dismounts the ladder.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 13)

October 9, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

My fingers traced the gold gilt on the leather bindings. Never before had I seen more than a dozen books in one place. M’lord had thousands, many in languages unknown. Per instructions, I removed each one, dusted and cleaned the shelf, then moved to the next. I was on the penultimate step of a rolling ladder. A pail swung from a hook. My hips twitched, my buttocks visible, my front thatch peeped: I continued to weep arousal. Voices from below, tenors and bass, alto and sopranos, I stared forward and worked without cessation. I wanted a hand… betwixt my thighs.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 12)

October 8, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

I curtseyed: my rear remained exposed. “After chastisement all members of my staff are left bare as a reminder.” I must have looked stricken. He patted my cheek my secretions still glistened then ran his damp forefinger slowly over my pouted lips. “Ruby you will see many a nude female and male posterior during your sojourn under my care. All will be red and marked. Later in the Gun Room, all those thusly disciplined will be brought to culmination under the tutelage of Miss Frothinglips and Mr. Steedstiff. Pleasure is only for those who atone.” My tongue tasted my cunny.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 11)

October 3, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

As I recall, I moaned, dipped my knees and widened my stance at his firm touch. Licentious hussy, I was now a slave to passion. M’lord chuckled, not unkindly, but with knowing anticipation of my journey about to commence. He rubbed harder between my folds. “At Peacock House, everything is earned. Knowledge, income, pain and…” he pinched my ‘spot’ tightly “pleasure.” I squealed. “Stand up and turn round.” My legs shook: my upper thighs were wet. “Your assignment for the coming week is to clean this room daily. If…by half past four you have performed well, I will reward you.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 ( Part 10)

October 2, 2016lurvspanking6 Comments

M’lord spanked me hard and fast over skin already scalded and sensitized. To my consternation, my secretions flowed ever faster at his masterful treatment. As he punished he lectured, “Vulgarity has a time and a place Ruby, my study, under my hand, is neither.” He plunged one finger deep inside my womanly passage. I lay down my head: heated cheek on the cool wood surface while my hips danced his saucy tune. “The little death, an orgasm, a spend, a cum; do you wish a repeat of Mrs. Cleanknocker’s gift?” His thick thumb probed rear portal still tender and slack.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 9)

October 1, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

Where trimmed feminine fingers had coaxed, now, tribute was demanded. Hastened by shallow strokes as thumb rubbed dry tissues, I felt dampness seep from my wicked core. After only one such cataclysmic event I had fallen into depravity worthy of the most wanton Covent Garden light skirt. I didn’t care. “Your report states you had never before experienced le petit mort Ruby.” I gasped as m’lord grazed my erect nub. Lightning flashed to my mouth. “I don’t speak French sir, I’m a nobody turned shameless whore.” SMACK! SMACK! The loud retorts of hand on buttocks resounded. “That word is forbidden.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 8)

September 30, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

I obeyed. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! I lifted my buttocks higher to meet the swung leather. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! M’Lord was also an artisan of the corporal trade. On the soft and yielding canvas of my nubile body he painted a solid red overlay; the cane tramlines submerged as if a fevered dream forgotten. I broke my promise: I cried out and stamped, begged for forgiveness. Well presented for correction, naïve as I was, I knew there existed more. Mrs. Cleanknockers had gently primed my pump: m’lord drew down the liquid treat with masculine authority. Short, stubby, his digits penetrated.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 7)

September 26, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

“Mrs. Cleanknockers is an artist with the stick,” m’lord said with approval. He squeezed firmly. I was determined to take my punishment in silence. I learned something that day: the male fingers are nothing like the female touch. The leather strap lay cool and slick on my bare hindquarters. The first blow is always a shock. The sharp snap rings in your ears. The bite on your flesh stings, there is a delayed reaction as the mind tries to reconcile sound and burning sensation. The second blow compounds the confusion. The third and the fourth: you hiss. “Lift up Ruby.”

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 6)

September 25, 2016lurvspanking7 Comments

Gentle Reader, I have not yet mentioned the uniforms: even today, worn for my husband’s pleasure allows a blush. The Ladies Journals with engravings of floor length modest dresses: we maids were not allowed such protections and, except during our delicate time of the month, no undergarments. Unaware, until m’lord reached behind me, there was a drawstring, when pulled and hooked to a button at my lace collar, raised the flounced hem in back as a curtain at a bawdy play. My entire nether cheeks were exposed to a male gaze for the first time. M’Lord traced the cane welts.

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 5)

September 24, 2016lurvspanking14 Comments

I gulped back sobs as His Lordship shut the wardrobe. “I was going to strap you later after you’ve dusted, but based on your hysterical overwrought theatrics you’ve now earned twice daily discipline for the next week.” He touched my tear stained cheeks and smiled affectionately. “You are not going to be ‘sold’ you silly chit: all my girls are offered the opportunity of marriage to established men of the mercantile class. We will train you in the social and amorous arts and provide you with ample funds. Now! Bend over my desk Ruby and prepare to be soundly strapped.”

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 4)

September 23, 2016September 23, 2016lurvspanking12 Comments

Through thick fringe I covertly watched as m’lord rose and walked to a tall wardrobe. The doors were swung open and he pulled a tray outwards. I saw hundreds if not thousands of vertical folders in varying thicknesses. “Ruby, luscious Ruby,” m’lord muttered softly and placed my fate into a vacant slot. “Please m’lord,” I beseeched, “I’ll do whatever you say, but don’t sell me to a brothel!” M’lord spun around. “What on earth?” His mouth gaped. “I heard Mrs. Cleanknockers sir!” I could not prevent the tears. “Ruby! Cease your caterwauling at once! This is not a Penny Dreadful!”

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 3)

September 19, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

Mrs. Cleanknockers handed over a thin folder. “Ruby’s intake m’lord.” She paused. “If I may be so bold m’lord, I believe that she would suit Mr. Jones-Smyth admirably.” I felt Lord Caneshard’s intense scrutiny on my bowed skull. “You state she’s untutored.” My mind raced in panic: had I been deceived? Had I fallen into the evil and depraved clutches of White Slavers? “Untutored yes m’lord, but very responsive.” I felt Mrs. Cleanknockers gloved hand raise my frightened chin. “Obey His Lordship Ruby and you will prosper.” She pressed her moist lips firmly to mine and swept out the door.

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 2)

September 18, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking11 Comments

The dark oak walls were lined with stuffed animals heads and stuffier ancestral portraits. I giggled nervously as naughty thoughts of mounted Lords filled my mind. My mirth was doused by the stern glare I received from Mrs. Cleanknockers. “This is the Gun Room Ruby,” said icily, “where you will be trained and chastised.” We passed by the locked door. There was no sign that stated ‘Abandon all hope’ but it was implied in her tone. She knocked on m’lord’s office and we entered. “Ruby sir.” I curtsied and when prodded, approached the desk. “You’ve been willful I understand. Excellent!”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 1)

September 17, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking8 Comments

Dressed in my new black and white uniform, Mrs. Cleanknockers led me to the kitchen, introduced Cook, and fed me lunch with the downstairs staff. As the new girl the maids and footmen scrutinized me closely for signs of moral failure. Clearly I was not welcome and the slights were not long in manifesting. I ate my meal in silence while Mrs. Cleanknockers grilled her underlings and assigned the afternoon roster. I was exempt: I had an appointment with Lord Caneshard. The sly grins and elbows did not go unnoticed. “Emily and Louisa. Report to the Gun Room at 2.”

Due to a personal request, I’m looking at you Missy, the Bumhampton Chronicles will continue. However, I will write the story as a drabble – 100 words – at a time and will be posted several times a week.

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 1

September 15, 2016January 17, 2017lurvspanking23 Comments

A tribute to the great Victorian Age of Erotica, where orifices were plundered and bottoms were whacked. I now present the following account for your prurient pleasure. Please note at 3,500 words it is fairly long but I didn’t want to split it in two parts. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08

“The Bumhampton Chronicles”

There was an old man in the cottage at the end of the lane on every day at 2:30 in the afternoon took his curly-coated black terrier for a walk. Quartz gravel crunched softly beneath his booted feet. Dressed in a corduroy jacket with worn leather patches, rain or shine the gentle thud of his cane echoes between the hedgerows.

He goes to the pub for a pint and then the post office to mail a letter. After, he crosses the road and reads the real estate listings. He buys a loaf of bread at the grocers and then returns home where he opens a tin of sardines and pours a glass of red wine. If you ask the villagers, who amongst them is eccentric they will point at the old man in the cottage at the end of the lane.

Look at him shuffling along. Sad isn’t it? To think of whom he once was. You mean you don’t know who that is? That, my friends was his Lordship. Yes, a real Lord: with a title and everything! The Venerable Lord Caneshard the Omnipresent of Lower Bumhampton. A silly title you must agree, but it suited him. Now look at him; talking with his dog, posting a letter everyday with another true episode of his memoirs. Problem is, no one believes him the poor sod. They all think he’s gone around the bend. I’ll tell you a secret though. Every word is true.

Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m telling you this because I know the truth. Who am I? My name is Slapumcheeks; but my friends call me Ruby. I should know about His Lordship, because I was on the receiving end many times of his particular method of motivation. You see Lord Caneshard strongly believed that young ladies of a certain class needed regular exercise and discipline in order not to fall in with the wrong crowd. That’s right, spanking, caning, whipping, strapping; my poor sore bottom was thoroughly chastised on many an occasion. I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on Lord Caneshard ………

“Your Lordship?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Your nine o’clock appointment is here sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Frothinglips. Show her in.”

I walked into a large, illuminated study, shelves upon shelves of books lining both sidewalls. I must have looked a fright, gawking like a provincial rube, but I’d never seen so many books before in my life. I could read, after a fashion, but I was feeling out of place in this luxurious manor. His Lordship had stood up when I entered the room, and I started when I realized he was staring at me. I blushed and dropped a fumbling curtsy.

“Your Lordship.”

He nodded at me, and motioned towards a leather wingback to the left of his magnificent desk. I sat down, and nervously clasped my hands in my lap.

“I believe you have something for me?”

I reached into by reticule and pulled out a sealed letter from my previous employer. I made to get up, but he bade me stay seated and came around his desk to receive the missive. Perching on one corner, he cracked the seal and proceeded to read the contents. I covertly studied him as he perused my life’s work. He was short, maybe 5′ 6′, with reddish hair and a mustache. His clothes were of the finest cut and gems sparkled in his waistband. He finished reading, and setting down the papers, reached down and lifted my chin in his calloused hand.

“How old are you child?”
“I’m 18 and three quarters sir.”
“You have very fine credentials, Mrs. Allechat speaks quite glowingly of your morals and ethics.”
“I try sir.”
“Yes, well we shall see about that. I must say though, there is no mention of instances of discipline listed. Were you not punished ever?”

I do realize that in these enlightened times corporal punishment is frowned upon. However, in our time, a spanking was considered normal and nothing to froth on about. I explained to His Lordship, that I was occasionally smacked, but never more than once a month. He frowned at that, and muttered that perhaps I was not suited for this position after all. I swallowed hard, and asked in a meek voice what would I be expected to endure.

“All my girls are thrashed at least once a week, and with new girls, I always break them in with daily, if not twice daily discipline.”

The shock must have shown on my face. I certainly felt light headed. Never in my wildest dreams, could I have envisioned that at 18 and three quarters years of age, I would fall into the clutches of a upright man such as this. I was ecstatic, but I managed to remain calm.

“My apologies Your Lordship, I did not understand the requirements of the position. Perhaps, it would be best if I left.”
“Nonsense girl. It is my duty as the Lord of the Manor to provide both discipline and a healthy, happy work environment.”
“I….”
“Besides, where else were you planning to go?”

He was right of course. As an orphan, my prospects were bleak; this was the 10th interview I had been to, but this was this first job that I was interested in enough to commit my bottom too. I did not want to wind up out on the streets selling my virtue for pennies.

“Very well, sir. Is there anything else I need to be aware of?”
“There is a rigorous and cleansing examination before you are officially hired. Need to make sure you are flexible to do the proper job. Stand up please.”

I stood up in front of the chair.

“Stand up straight girl! I expect all my girls to be willing and able to whatever it takes to satisfy his Lordship. No milquetoasts on my watch! Hrumph!!! You are nicely built, sweet face; let me see the rear view. Ah!!!! Excellent form. I say, good show.”

*smack* *smack* The quick spanks on my bottom caught me by surprise.

“Yes girl, your backside will get quite the workout with my strap. I am looking forward to your working for me. So, are ye interested in the post? It comes with room and board, 10 pounds a week with one day a week off plus regular and rigorous discipline. Speak up lass, now’s not the time to be shy.”

I of course, said yes; and thus began a most educational journey into the lives of masters and servants and men and woman. Would you like to hear more?

Peacock House was a trim country manor. His Lordship ruled over miles in all directions, including the little village of Lower Bumhampton. I was guided by another servant, Anna, and made my way to the rear of the manor and the servant’s quarters where I was met with the very severe and formidable Mrs. Cleanknockers. She pursed her lips and glared at me. I lowered my gaze demurely and spoke of His Lordship’s desire to have me cleansed and examined.

“Well, I determine who is allowed to stay at the manor miss, and you can be sure that when I am done with you, your very innards will squeak.”

I must interject here; I was in fact, quite naive. I was raised in the city, and thus had no congress with young men, other than the uncouth tradesman and street urchins. My mama, when she was still alive, God rest her soul, was not one to explain the bodily functions. I bathed once a week, as was normal; that is until I started employment. Truth was, at that age I was very shy and private. Had I only known…

“Stand over here Miss, against the wall.”

She measured my height, and used a scale to find my weight. Her hands roamed freely over my covered limbs, and she bent me forward and back in all directions. I was dizzy, and the pins in my black hair had come loose, causing a cascade down my back.

“Very well, you will now disrobe. If you pass muster, then all your clothes will be provided for you.”
“Disrobe?”
“Are you disobeying me already miss?”
“No ma’am, but there is no screen.”
“Child, privacy is not a concern at this place. Disrobe or leave.”

What choice did I have? I must admit to tears as I undid my buttons on my floor length frock, and handed it over to her waiting arms. My chemise was next, and as I did not wear undergarments, I was soon naked and shivering as I cowered under her stern gaze.

“Stand up straight! Thrust your chest out!”

Two quick strikes, one on each bottom cheek, and I was stiff and rigid as a Guardsman at attention. Thus began the examination; Mrs. Cleanknockers ran her fingers through my hair, probing my skull. She checked my ears, my eyes; her fingers entered my mouth and gently massaged my teeth. Her roved lower, always lower until my breasts lay in her strong palms. She squeezed, like a melon, checking for soft spots, and then, and then. Oh my, I thought as she plucked and rolled my stiff nipples. Hard points, in and out, stretching: I cried out as she tormented my flesh.

“Good response. You like pain, I can tell.”
“No Ma’am, it hurts.”
“Little liar. M’Lord will soon enough cure you of that trait.”

Continuing now, she loosed my red and inflamed bosom and seized both arms and once more checked my flexibility. My hands, and nails did not pass muster, but she merely murmured ‘later’. My torso was next, then, she spun me around and pushed her thumbs hard into my shoulders and down my spine. I was just a puppet in her capable hands and I began to sense something stirring in my unmentionable areas. My lower extremities did not go unnoticed, but I was bade sit on a towel that rested on a stone counter, next to a sink and a floor drain. I tried, I tried still to be modest, but after massaging my sore feet and calves, she ran her hands up my thighs and patted them. Her intent was clear, she wished me to spread them wide.

“Please? No?”

She walked away without a word and opened a cupboard. Returning with a stiff riding crop: tap, tap, she touched my thighs once more, but I just shook my head and wept in shame. Thus began my first whipping, but by no means my last, at Peacock House. At the time, I screamed with the pain, it was so severe; what did I know, I was an innocent. In truth, she was very careful, and struck with just sufficient force, repeated blows raining down on my upper thighs. How many? I do not know, but when I looked down expecting to see blood, all there was, was a pinkish hue to my skin. I looked up through the film of my tears, and nodded. She stopped at once, and then tapped me with her hands once more. This time, I spread my legs as wide as I could while she poked and prodded my inner thighs.

“Lay back, and raise your knees to your chest; grasp them firmly with your hands, and keep them wide spread for me.”

The screeching of wooden legs on the stone floor grated on my nerves as she positioned a stool in front of my feminine opening.

“Are you still a virgin?”
“Yes,” I replied with some vigor. “I am a proper girl!”
“I shall soon find out if you are telling the truth.”

Thus now, the examination portion was drawing to a close, and the cleansing portion soon to commence. But first, I felt a stranger’s touch on me. Down there: the place of bleeding shame and pain. What possible connection could still being a virgin have to do with my monthlies? Once more, those strange feelings swirled in my tummy as several fingers rubbed me down there, up and down. I thought I heard faint squishing noises, but then all else fled as a slender digit entered my body! My back arched, and I squealed as she manipulated me and probed deeper and deeper.

“Ah, you are intact, excellent. You will be quite the prize filly for some lucky man. Move your bottom over the edge, keep pulling back. Further, further.”

By now, my knees were pressing against my chest and just when I believed that my ordeal was over, another shock. A greased finger slid abruptly up my fundament! I do not have to explain the shame I felt being treated this way, yet, yet; a part reveled in this treatment of me. I realized that Mrs. Cleanknockers was not being cruel, but that she was in fact quite efficient at her job. She then slid a second finger in my nether hole, whilst returning yet again to my womanly opening. I could feel, oh I could feel her fingers touching inside of me through both holes and my body began to rock ever so slightly. I gave myself over to the rush of new sensations and closed my eyes.

I was climbing. I was soaring as Mrs. Cleanknockers’ wicked manipulation had caused all sense of propriety to flee. My hips, my bottom, my cunny; all had betrayed me, and they all worked in consort with her fingers and thumbs. Then, all thought faded as she touched a certain spot that flared like a torch and the heat engulfed my blood. I know that I shrieked then, but even as I prayed to God for His forgiveness and mercy, my lower holes thrust harder and harder upon her hot flesh. So this is lewdness I marveled, and I sinned willingly and cast my soul into the flames of Hell.

Just like that; I would have wept, but I cared not. Something was happening, something that my body knew well, but that I did not. She rode me hard, did Lust. Lust whipped my flanks and she drove me ever onwards with biting spurs as she caused rivulets of secretions to pour from all my orifices. The ground fell away abruptly as I had a fit, and my muscles locked in rigid display. Dangling in air, I fell. I fell hard, and a sound issued from my throat. I can only describe what happened that first time, as the sound of a thousand crystal goblets shattering on a marbled ballroom floor.

My senses slowly returned and I discovered myself being cradled in Mrs. Cleanknockers arms, her cleaned hands brushing my hair.

“Your first spending?”
“I’ve never… What was that? What happened to me?”

She laughed then, a silvery tinkle, which brought to mind skylarks in spring display. Not unkindly, she kissed me lightly on my trembling lips and squeezed me tight.

“You’re a precious jewel, sweet Ruby. We will have such a time together. You will learn, and be well rewarded for your efforts.”

So saying, she eased me down off the counter and led me to a small antechamber. My cleansing was nearly at hand, but this, I knew well; though to my fevered mind, all the apparatus appeared sinister and foreboding. Hanging on steel hooks, implements of correction covered one entire wall: canes, straps, paddles and many others. If the purpose of this display was to intimidate, it succeeded, for I fairly leapt onto the padded table and assumed the prone position on my belly.

Miss Cleanknockers busied herself at the sink, mixing and filling several bags, four in all. I waited, and watched, if not serenely, at least resigned to my fate at last. Lavender and sage, the tang of mineral oil wafted across my nose as my face lay resting on the sheet. Finished with her preparations, she approached my upturned bottom cheeks and gently spread them wide exposing my quivering anus. Her forefinger once again penetrated my inner recesses and twirled, lubricating the dark and humid corridor. She reached back, and pulled the pump closer and pressed the nozzle firmly in. One thrust, slow but sure. It was enormous, much larger than anything I’d ever felt before. My hands clenched the fabric on which I knelt, as a high-pitched mewling noise issued from between taut lips.

“Are you hurt?”
“No miss, it is very large though, and so deep!”
“Not as large or deep as the real thing will be my dear.”

Fully plugged, I arched my back and presented: raising my hips ever higher, desperate to ease the fullness. She released the stop, and warm soapy water, in a relentless flood, invaded my bowels. Perhaps to modern sensibilities, this seemed obscene, but back then, regular purging were prescribed for all types of ill humors. I could not even tell you how many I had endured already in my life, but this treatment at least I thought I could pass with flying colors. And I did, if a red striped bottom indicates success.

Gentle Reader, if you have never undergone a full course of enemas then you cannot truly know the urgency with which the urge to expel strikes the laboring bowels. I had learned much control, though of still tender years, and I tried to impress Mrs. Cleanknockers with my stoicism. The first bag was emptied, and she reached under my torso and rubbed my slightly protruding stomach. At least a quarter of an hour passed as the solution churned and sloshed in my innards until at last, she brought over a large basin and directed me squat directly over while she removed the nozzle. I did my business, with the minimal of fuss; closing my senses to the sounds and smells. She wiped back there, and removed the basin to the adjacent water closet. She was gone so long I wondered perhaps she was divining my future, like a gypsy reading tea leaves. I giggled to myself as I once more clambered onto the table.

The second and third courses went much the same, the third being an herbal concoction that smelled heavenly and felt even better. She allowed me use of the WC for that expulsion and I was actually smiling when I returned. That faded as I spied the last bag. A full gallon, with a nozzle twice the girth of what had been used before and shaped with a queer bulbous head. I did not protest, but meekly followed her directions as she had me lay facing her on my side, with the top leg drawn up to my chest. To my shock and amazement, the fearsome weapon slid in with ease, and Mrs. Cleanknockers spent many minutes gliding the probe in and out of my clenching rosebud, until thrusting it home to the root. This bag was plain water with extract of peppermint, and as it gurgled in, I could feel a burning sensation moving slowly higher and higher until it reached my tummy. She took my hands and laid them on my slowly inflating stomach.

“Just think Ruby, this is what you will feel like when you are with child and ready to birth.”
“I’ll birth through my arse?”

She merrily laughed again at me, but I was truly vexed.

“I am so sorry that my innocence and ignorance amuses you. I am just a simple girl with no prospects, except to be abused for the rest of my life.”

She said nothing, but I sensed an immediate chill in the room as she monitored the last drops. I heard a crinkling noise, and then as she withdrew the flared nozzle, she replaced it with what felt like a cork that went but a short distance within, but blocked all egress of the liquid. I sat up and looked down, ashamed of my outburst, although it was all true to my nature.

“Miss Slapumcheeks, you will stand up and walk to the far wall and choose an implement of chastisement. Then return and bend over the table.”

I didn’t walk, I waddled and as I gazed upon the multitude of items hanging there, my eyes were drawn to a long, thick cane. I handed the cane to her, bent over and waited.

“You…” WHAP “are…” WHAP “not…” WHAP “ignorant…” WHAP

“You…” WHAP “are…” WHAP “simply…” WHAP “untutored…” WHAP

She drove her lesson home, with three more quick strikes on the tops of my thighs and I gasped as the welts stung my entire bottom in regular stripes that rose like puffed pastry. She spun me around to face her and inserting the tip of the cane between my legs, lightly tapped at my still wet sex.

“This virginal opening is where a man will plant his seed, and your womb is where your babe will grow. You will birth through this selfsame opening nine months later. All of this knowledge will be given to you, and much more. You, dear Ruby, will have a chance that few other girls will ever see. A chance to be an independent woman of means.”

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

The naughty fairy captured by a swamp troll: part 3/3

August 25, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

This story contains spanking and graphic unrealistic sexual descriptions between creatures. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08. Do not read if you are offended by a funny sex and spanking story.

You should go here to read the first part of the story otherwise you’ll be missing out on 1/3rd of the story. 1+1+1=3 See! Even swamp trolls can count that high!

Gee Bark, way to show off your mathematical prowess…OWWWW! You should also go here to read the second part of the story because what naughty Heather was going to say was that mouth+pussy+ass=3 fairy holes for a swamp troll to fuck. OWWWWW! I don’t think they heard you Heather. OOOOWWWWW!

Bark Gnawer was by no means finished, but then, neither was Heather. He lifted her around her waist so that she dangled over his arm and resumed spanking her very hard while she squealed and twisted. When she steadied herself by grabbing his softened cock he carefully laid her flat on the floor. She rolled to her knees and started kissing the troll’s thighs. She moved from one to the other and then took his stirring cock back in her mouth. Not satisfied, she moved on to his balls and after that, asked him to turn around and bend over. Remembering the taste of herself, she kissed and licked his buttocks and then spreading his cheeks open, stared avidly at his anus area. She ran her tongue up and down his crack, getting ever closer to her target and when she lapped at the edge, he groaned with delight. Emboldened, she tried again, this time in the center and giggled as his muscle winked at her. The taste was clean but musky and the tang bit her taste buds, drawing her to use her entire mouth to suck and lick. Reaching underneath, she clasped his cock in one hand and stroked up and down in rhythm to her tongue slithering into his sphincter. It was too much for Bark and his knees buckled and he fell forward.

Heather sat back and waited until he recovered. For a swamp troll, he seemed to have less energy than he should and she wondered if the blue haze over her skin had something to with that fact. It was clear Bark couldn’t see the color and nothing she’d ever learned at fairy school explained exactly what the color would do to a troll. She could also guess what her Master would want next, but hearing the dire warnings in her head, it was not something she would speak out loud. “Would you like some refreshments sir?”

“No, I want you. I need you. What are doing to me?”

“Nothing sir, nothing at all.”

“I don’t believe you,” Bark rumbled in his chest and got to his feet. He seized her hair and dragged her unresisting body over to a stool. Bending her over face down, he quickly secured her wrists and ankles to the wooden legs. Thus displayed, she truly was at his mercy. “Don’t go anywhere naughty fairy, I’ll be right back.” A mocking laugh trailed off until there was only silence.

Heather waited, in this position, her wings now fluttered freely. Soft and pliable, they were not enough to get her airborne; that was accomplished by fairy dust. She was resigned to the fact that very soon, too soon, Bark Gnawer the swamp troll would have an intimate encounter with the power of fairy dust. She could only hope she’d survive at least.

She heard him return and stand next her. His steady breathing did not calm her, but she was determined not to beg, no matter how much he beat her. He was correct that she was doing something to him, but no amount of torture would ever make a fairy reveal the ultimate secret. There was a soft sigh and then a band of fire laced her bottom. A loud snap echoed in the room as the leather strap left its mark: again the soft sigh and another band just below the first. With regular timing the swamp troll swung the heavy leather strap at his bound captive’s reddening bottom until he reached her upper thighs. “Do you have anything to say naughty fairy?”

The silence was unexpected, so he began again, only this time, a little harder and a little faster. By the time he had painted Heather’s bottom a second time with a deep pink coat, she was in a good deal of pain. But not enough to speak so Bark commenced his thrashing yet again. The snap and crack of the cruel strap burned her quivering cheeks and stamped his mark into her soul. She felt herself start to float and her traitorous pussy start to melt. Bark noticed that as well as stopped whipping her when her bottom from the top to midway down her thighs was deep, brick red and flaming hot.

Heather groaned as his hands slapped down hard on her cheeks and squeezed tight, digging his nails into the scalded flesh. She groaned even louder as he thrust his cock, even more enormous than ever, all the way in until his stomach meet her bottom with a thud. All the way out and all the way in: hard and violent thrusts rocked helpless Heather and all she could do is whimper. Not with pain, not anymore, only with lust as she was punished by her valentine. She deserved this treatment for flying away from fairyland and entering the Screaming Swamp. She was in truth naughty Heather and had earned every spank, every stroke, every discipline Bark meted out.

She opened her mouth and screamed and screamed. “More! More! Hurt me more! Punish me, punish your naughty Heather!” He did indeed punish her some more, pausing in his fucking frenzy to spank her with his hands and then the strap. Stoking her passion by lashing her tail, he resumed his fucking of her pussy and then had a thought. To truly punish her, she had yet one hole left to plunder. He dug his fingers in her crease and pulled her wide open. Pale skin shone where the strap had not kissed and in the middle was a pink dot where his fingers had played before. His cock was wet enough, so he pulled out of her pussy and placed the head on her anus. He felt Heather tense and asked one more time. “Do you have anything to say?”

Heather dangled there, over the stool, her pussy wet and sore, her bottom red and swollen, her Master’s cock poised to breach the forbidden entrance and still she said nothing. Unseen and unheard by Bark, tears finally flowed from her eyes as she whispered softly good-bye to her fairy life.

The swamp troll pushed forward, but despite the earlier stretching, he had difficulty puncturing the opening. He moistened her with some saliva and tried again; this time his plum size head popped inside the ring and Heather felt a jolt. She opened her mouth, whether to scream or to yield she would never know, for Bark chose that moment to push steadily inward until he could go no further but with four inches of his cock still left outside her ass. Heather reacted by exhaling in a steady hiss as she felt his large cock push her rectal walls outward. Bark waited and waited as frantic pulses ran up and down those walls. She could feel the jolts now coming closer and closer together, but she was resigned to her fate. Now he moved, pulling out in the same slow and steady motion until the head was lodged tight within her ring. Back in, a little faster and a little deeper, and then out. Back in and this time all the way to her colon as he sunk all twelve inches into her ass until his balls slapped up against her flowing pussy. He groaned, she groaned, the heat on her bottom matched the heat in her bottom. One minute, five minutes, ten minutes Bark thrust into Heather and when she heard him groan and speed up his pounding to match his earlier fucking, she knew the end was near. Once more she heard the voice of the fairy elders in her mind.

‘Never reveal the secret of fairy flight. If you allow a male penis to plunge into your back passage, the back passage where you excrete the fairy dust that gives you flight; if you allow this, then the male will be trapped and will not withdraw until he shoots his seed deep into your bowels. No matter how long it takes, until he comes he will not stop thrusting into you and when he does finally come, that seed will meet your fairy dust and the combined reaction will cause an explosion. An explosion that will kill you both and safeguard the secret of fairy flight.’

Heather felt Bark’s seed spatter the interior walls of her rectum, then nothing at all.

“Heather! Heather! Wake up!”

She felt a hand shaking her and she growled with annoyance.

“Wake up! Please!”

“Go away, I’m dead, so you can’t bother me.”

“You are not dead Heather please open your eyes.”

She reluctantly opened her eyes. She was lying on her side in the same room. The steaming waters of the pool still burbled but the walls were coated with black soot: the stool which over she had been bent and punished was so much kindling. She looked down at her body, but it was unmarred. Looking up she saw a familiar face peering down at her. “Tanner? Is that you!”

“Yes Heather it is I.”

“But they told me you had died!”

“I did.”

“Where’s Bark Gnawer?”

Tanner reached out and lifted Heather to her feet. “I am Bark, or rather, my soul was trapped in the body of a swamp troll.”

“How could that happen?”

“How do you think it happened Heather?”

“You mean… no, they couldn’t have!”

“Yes Heather Passiontail. When the fairy elders discovered that you and I had fallen in love, they cursed me by casting my soul into a dumb swamp troll. They put a spell on the troll to kill and eat any fairy he caught.”

“Then why didn’t Bark do that to me?”

“Because the spell had weakened enough for me to persuade him otherwise.”

“Then why are we still alive after he spent his seed in my bottom?”

“Part of the curse Heather was that unless the swamp troll punished my true love by coming in her bottom and igniting the fairy dust, I would never be free.”

“Oh Tanner! I can’t believe we’re together. I’m so happy.”

“I am as well Heather. There is one minor detail that I neglected to mention.”

“What is that my love?”

“A certain naughty fairy it seems, was behaving most wantonly with a swamp troll of all things. What am I to do about that?”

“Punish her hard of course, my love, my Master.”

The End and they lived spankily ever after.

The naughty fairy captured by a swamp troll: part 2/3

August 18, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

This story contains spanking and graphic unrealistic sexual descriptions between creatures. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08. Do not read if you are offended by a funny sex and spanking story.

You should go here to read the first part of the story otherwise you’ll be missing out on 1/3rd of the story. 1+1+1=3 See! Even swamp trolls can count that high!

When Heather Passiontail awoke it was dark. She opened her eyes, but it remained dark and she sat up in fright. A frantic scan around her and she slowly could see that her surroundings were in fact, a cave. Behind her, there was the smoldering remains of a fire and stretched out on the far side was a large, still form, presumably Bark Gnawer. For herself, she was aware that she was covered by a warm blanket, woven of an unfamiliar plant fiber. She was also completely naked and when she ran her hands over her body, a faint blue glow surrounded her skin. Her involuntary gasp as she held her shimmering hands to her face roused the sleeping troll.

“You’re awake, that’s good. I was worried.”

“Yes I’m awake sir, what day is this?”

“It is two sunrises and two moonsets since you last had your eyes open.”

“Two days!” Heather lay back down and stared up into the darkness. “That explains it then,” she whispered quietly.

“Explains what?”

“Nothing sir. Why I’m so hungry sir. Do you have any food suitable for a fairy?”

There was a rumble from the direction of the dim fire and Heather could see Bark get to his feet and move in her direction. She shrank back in her blanket as the swamp troll loomed over her. Bending down, he reached under her and with surprising gentleness, scooped her up, blanket and all and trundled with measured strides deeper into the pitch-black cave.

Heather lost track of how many steps Bark had taken when at last a pale light shone in the distance. Getting closer and brighter, she squinted painfully when the full force of the glow struck her eyes. When she could see, a sense of wonder nearly overcame her when the chamber was revealed fully. “What is this place?”

“My secret place, the place that no one has been but me, until now.”

“It’s beautiful Bark Gnawer. Did you do all this?”

“Some was here already, but I did most of what you see.”

He carefully set Heather down on a padded bench set against the far wall. As he walked away towards some shelving nearby, Heather blushed when she saw he was naked as well. His muscular legs and his firm, taut buttocks drew her mesmerized gaze. Her imagination looked and wondered what it would be like to run her lips and tongue over those cheeks and between, deep between. Her blood stirred once more and to her dismay, the blue haze pulsed brighter with every heartbeat. Despite her fear though, her hands crept under the blanket and between her thighs, deep between. A low moan escaped her lips and she closed her eyes as the feelings washed over her.

She felt his hand cup the back of her neck and a container pressed to her mouth. She opened slightly and cool liquid poured in. As she swallowed, Bark carefully fed her the entire contents, all the while, Heather’s fingers kept probing her pussy. As the last of the fluid went down her throat, she came again and shuddered in waves of passion. Bark lifted first one hand and then the other, licking all her secretions from her sticky fingers until they were clean. Heather finally opened her eyes and asked, “What’s happening to me?”

Bark said nothing, but sat down beside her on the bench and set a plate of food upon her lap. Bit by bit, he fed her the entire contents of fruit and bread all washed down with more drink, this time a hot infusion of herbal tea. Still hungry, she ate a second plate of food before finally feeling satiated. “I need to relieve myself.”

Bark pointed to a curtain hanging next to the shelving and told her everything she’d need was inside. When she went to rise from the bench, the blanket was snagged under the troll. With a simple look up at her, she understood and cast off her covering. Nude, her skin flushed under his intense scrutiny. Her body ached and yearned, knowing full well that it would feel the power of his cock before long.

When she returned from her cleansing, Bark had cleaned up and motioned her to follow him through yet another curtained entrance. A short passageway through the rock led to a chamber filled with warm steam. In the center was a natural mineral spring that bubbled and frothed in a medium size pool. Around the circumference were steps carved in the edges and on the floor were stacks of towels and bottles of colored fluid. Heather needed no encouragement and dipped her toes in the roiling waters. A contented sigh and she eased down until she was covered up to her neck. The swamp troll entered across from her and for a long time, there was no sound at all, save for the popping of fragrant bubbles.

Heather was only dimly aware of the passage of time and could not be sure of how long they’d been in the bath. A volume of water sloshed around and then she felt him sit next to her. Bark wrapped an arm around her shoulders and sat her upright. Telling her to bend her head forward, Heather felt a stream of water pour over her hair again and again. Then a thick liquid dripped onto her scalp and Bark’s strong fingers massaged it deep into her tresses. Heather purred with delight as he worked and relaxed her stiff neck. More water to rinse and then Bark proceeded to methodically and thoroughly clean every inch of her body. After finishing with her hair, he moved on to her face, then her neck and her shoulders. Dipping below the surface his firm hands gripped her breasts and moved in circles round and round until he captured her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. With a painful tug that sparked her deep inside, he pulled her throbbing breasts out of the water, forcing her back to arch and bringing her taut nipples to his mouth. He teased and suckled as her hands gripped the sides of the stone bath. Her legs fell open as he moved his body closer and she felt his cock poking her belly.

“Not yet,” he murmured and released her sore nipples. He ordered her to stand and she could, barely, and only by leaning against the side. He lathered up his hands and continued washing her front, her torso, her flanks, down her thighs and lifting each leg in turn, all the way to her little pinkie toe. Everywhere except her pulsating pussy. When she begged, he said, “Not yet,” and ordered her to turn around. He then washed her back and told her to rinse off. Moving to the other end of the bath, he told her to stand on a higher step that put her waist just above the lip. Placing a stack of towels on the deck, he put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. When she did, her bottom rose clear of the water and his hands moved to her knees and nudged them apart. Heather trembled as she laid her head down sideways and waited for her Master to take her. Instead, soapy fingers caressed her buttocks, healed from her two-day slumber and she thrust back in small motions. Around and around his hands swirled and dipped lower and lower. Poised at the entrance to her pussy, she cried out when two slick fingers slid easily inside. In and out in a parody of sex, he cleaned her inside and out and then placed two fingers of his other hand on her anus.

She tensed, once more hearing the warnings in her mind, but it was too late, much too late. If it happened, then so be it and damn the consequences. Bark slid his fingers again into her rectum and as before, she convulsed with pleasure. Moving into her bottom and her pussy at the same time soon brought her to the brink of orgasm, but once again, he whispered, “Not yet,” and withdrew his fingers. He brought them around to mouth and she dutifully licked them clean, both from her pussy and then from her ass. The taste of her ass was like nothing she’d ever had before and her arousal ratcheted even higher.

“Naughty fairy!” Bark said spanking her as she remained bent over suckling his fingers and raising her wet bottom high begging for more fondling. Instead, she got harder spanks, her cheeks quickly turning pink under his calloused hand while he scolded her for enjoying the pain.

“Please take me Bark!”

“Not yet, your turn to take care of me.”

He slid away and after a moment, she followed, stalking him until she trapped his large body in the corner. She was only half his size, but when she pressed up against him, he went quiescent and let her work her will. She washed his hair as well and his body, but when she approached his middle, he stopped her from grabbing his cock. “Please sir, please let me clean you.”

Bark kept her away, and motioned to his legs. With a frustrated squeal, Heather pounced on his legs and rubbed as rough as she could. At last he was satisfied and leaned back with a dark smile creasing his face. “It is time, naughty fairy,” pointing to his erection, dimly seen beneath the surface. “Suck me, suck me now.”

With a desperate sob, Heather took a deep breath and plunged underwater searching for the object of her lust. Her hands grasped and brought it to her lips. Suck she did and repeatedly came up for air, before once more slavering over the large troll cock. She felt Bark’s hands in her wet hair and then he forced his cock once more down her throat. Still impaled, he rose up out of the water, bringing her head with him and before she ran out of air, he released her and she gasped loudly.

Grabbing her waist, he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around behind his back and then slid his cock into her pussy for the first time. Despite her arousal, the water had dried her out and his entry was painful. It was also the first time she’d ever been entered by a real cock. Only objects and her hands had been there before. She squirmed in his arms, but he only growled, “Be still naughty fairy, you know you need this, you need this pain.”

Heather wanted to disagree, but the thought faded with every thrust. It was still uncomfortable, but the pain had eased and instead, a feeling of being full suffused her very pores. After repeated deep probing, she felt the end of his weapon touch her womb and she cried out when he withdrew and then rammed back inside. Over and over again with steady motions he pummeled her insides while spanking her wet bottom with one large hand in time to his inward thrusts until he tensed and erupted, spewing his sperm deep. Heather was still poised on the brink, he had come too soon and she nearly cried with frustration. “Not yet,” he mocked her and holding himself inside her pussy, he moved to the edge and laid her down on the towels. Before she could react, he pulled out and then swooped in the latch his mouth on her engorged lips. His tongue foraged inside and withdrew coated with his sperm. Again and again he licked and drank down their mingled essence until she was empty, then, he started on her clitoris. This time when she was nearly there, all Bark said was, “Come,” and Heather did until she could come no more.

End part 2

The naughty fairy captured by a swamp troll: part 1/3

August 13, 2016lurvspanking7 Comments

This story contains spanking and graphic unrealistic sexual descriptions between creatures. I am the original author posted elsewhere 3/8/08. Do not read if you are offended by a funny sex and spanking story.

Heather didn’t mean to be naughty, but being spawned under the full moon on a leap year had caused her to grow slower than the other fairies. Here it was, her fifth birthday [even though she was really twenty years old] and still everyone treated her like a mugwump. Not fair! All the other girls were finding their mates, lots and lots of mates morning noon and night and yet Heather had nobody. Fine, she’d show them all. Two weeks before the leap day, when all the other fairies were sleeping off the effects of the latest orgy, Heather flew slowly and carefully away from the enchanted meadow and into the Screaming Swamp. She’d been warned that the swamp was dangerous and that naughty fairies went in but they never came out.

Heather delighted in all the pretty flowers in the swamp and despite the large spooky trees and the many clinging vines she felt quite safe flitting from flower to bush. In fact, some of the large stamens were very, very nice to rub against. So much so, that her resentment at not having multiple mates of her own was slightly tempered. She probed deeper and deeper into the gloomy swamp until at last, she decided that it was time to rest. Finding an outcrop of rock, she alighted and walked over to the edge. Bending over to spy out the locale, Heather was shocked when she felt something seize her around the waist. She was even more shocked, when her fairy skirt was flicked up and a large hand commenced to spank her bottom quite hard. Oh no was Heather’s first and second thoughts as her now bare bottom was exposed to the elements… and to the harsh hand thoroughly warming her naughty backside. She struggled, not very convincingly, but the spanking continued forever. Well, not forever, but Heather was determined not to scream. Now she knew why it was called the Screaming Swamp, but was it too late for her?

A deep voice rumbled through Heather’s body. It did delicious things to her insides, made them all melty and slick. “Why have you entered my domain?” The commanding voice was punctuated by another hard swat to Heather’s red bottom.

“Sorry!” she squealed, “I was just passing through.”

“Liar!” roared the angry sounding voice and although Heather was still firmly bent over and exposed, there was not the anticipated swat. Instead, what felt like feathers were slowly moved up and down her quivering calves.

“No,” naughty Heather moaned, “no, please don’t do that! Spank me more, harder and harder until I’m screaming! Please, I’ll scream for you.”

A low growling chuckle shook the swamp caused ripples in the scummy water and felled snakes from the trees. “Oh, oh, oh. Yes little fairy, you will scream for me. I know what naughty girls like you need. Not spanking, no, not that. Naughty fairies get tickled!”

The canopy overhead swayed as Heather’s shrieks and pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. The mysterious creature effortless picked her up and after sitting down on a nearby stump, threw her over his lap. From her face-down position Heather finally determined that her chastiser was a ‘he’, the large – make that – very large, lump under her tummy was proof of his gender. She grabbed his hairy leg and tugged and beat on him with her fists in frustration. “Let me go!”

His response was to firmly pin her torso to his thick, meaty thighs and then to slowly commence the tickle torture.

The swamp troll, for that’s what Heather finally realized he was, ran his large and calloused hands all over her body. He pinched and poked and prodded and tickled her soft and succulent flesh. She pleaded for her release, but he left no part of her body unexplored. Heather wriggled frantically when she felt her sore bottom cheeks be pulled apart and the warm breath of the troll was followed by a wet finger probing her rear opening.

“No!” she shouted, “Enough of this you beast! I demand you let me go!”

There was a no response, just a gentle in and out movement of first one finger and then two. Heather swiveled her hips as best she could but he clamped her tighter to his lap and with his free hand, gripped the back of her neck tightly. Helpless, she could only squeal in outrage as very unfairylike oaths spewed from her dainty lips.

After one last stretching, he withdrew his thick and stubby fingers from her bottom and then with quick and decisive blows, resumed spanking her tender cheeks.

“I am not a beast.”

“Yes you are! You are a large, hairy, smelly beast and I hate you!”

Heather writhed over his lap, her lower half bouncing under her chastiser’s hand, her head firmly grasped in the other. Despite the rough handling, what she really scared her was the feelings stirring in her blood. Fairies had a secret that they revealed to no one and if the troll continued much longer with his treatment of her, Heather feared the worst.

“Do you know what day this is?” he grumbled.

“No I don’t sir.” Heather was relieved that he’d stopped spanking her again, although his hand was now caressing her very red and very tender bottom.

“It’s Saint Valentines Day.”

“I thought that was only for cupids?” Heather was very surprised that a swamp troll would have any concept of love.

“I don’t have a valentine of my own.”

Heather was rapidly reassessing her predicament. Maybe there was a way out of her torment after all. “Sir? If you let me go, I’ll help you.”

“Naughty fairy, if I let you go, you’ll fly away.”

“No Mr.Troll, I promise I won’t try to escape. On my word as Heather Passiontail, I will be your valentine.”

There was utter silence and she could feel the tension in his body and the trembling in his hands. He grasped her waist and lifted her up and off his lap. Setting her down, he then gently spun her around to face him. “You’ll be my valentine?”

Heather could only nod as she saw the troll for the first time.

“You’ll do anything I say?”

Her response was a shy smile and she reached out to touch his leg.

“My name is Bark Gnawer.”

“That’s an interesting name sir, how did you earn such strong moniker?”

“What’s a moniker? Are you saying I have something on my face?”

“No sir! A moniker is a name, and your name Mr. Bark Gnawer, it’s a very handsome name.”

“I like your name too Heather Passiontail. Your tail is very red, I like that.”

Heather reached around and rubbed that red bottom. The initial sting had started to fade, but oh was she sore. She would do anything, anything at all to avoid another spanking. Deciding to take the initiative, Heather gently eased Bark onto the stump and sat her aching cheeks on his lap. She took his face in her hands and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

“So what do you want your valentine to do first?”

“This is nice Heather, but I want you to suck my cock. I’ve never had that done to me before.”

“Never?”

“Do I look like the kinda guy that the ladies would flock to? Does this look like a hangout for luscious females? I live in a fucking swamp Heather! What do you think?”

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry. Please don’t beat me again, I’ll give you the best blowjob I can.”

“You better, or else that spanking you got will seem like patty cakes.”

Heather squeaked with distress and quickly jumped off his lap and fell to her knees. She was surprised when she realized that Bark wasn’t naked, but had on a tunic and a loincloth. It blended in with his wrinkled skin, but she had no problem sliding her slender fingers under the waistband and drawing the loincloth down and off his legs. Her knees were uncomfortable so she wadded up the cloth and then knelt once more. When she looked back up, she let a loud gasp.

“You’re huge! How am I supposed to suck that?”

Bark the swamp troll leaned forward and grabbed her long hair pulling her face to face with the rapidly expanding erection. He was actually over twelve inches, not that he’d actually measured or anything, and the knob was the size of a large plum. He was so keyed up from trollhandling the naughty fairy that he feared he would spurt at any moment. No time for subtleties, he poked clumsily at her mouth until his cock slid between her lips.

“Rumph, guggle, slobber, choke.”

Heather flailed her arms and tried to slow him down, but Bark sawed his throbbing slab in and out, going further and deeper at every desperate thrust. His hand twisted her hair and forced her head back creating a better angle to thrust even deeper. In response to the pain, Heather was shocked to feel her fairy pussy fairly gush fluid and when he pulled back out, she was able to take a deep breath.

“Wait please!”

“Why?”

“Stand up sir, let me lay down on the stump.”

Heather arranged her body so that her head fell backwards off the edge. Upside down, she could see that the large club jutting out from his torso was now lined up perfectly with her mouth. She stretched out her arms and grabbing both of his thighs, she drew him closer. Taking several lung filling breaths, she sucked the head of his cock into her mouth and with one steady push, let Bark shove his entire twelve inch meat straight down her squeezing throat. It was too much for him and with a roar that echoed through the swamp, Heather felt scalding fluid gush into her throat and down into her eager tummy.

After he was drained, he made to move back, but Heather stopped him.

“Sir, you’re still hard and as your valentine, I insist you use me some more. I want you to fuck my mouth this time. Ram it in as deep and as hard as you want until you come again. Please sir, throat fuck your naughty fairy and punish her for teasing you.”

Bark did indeed punish his naughty fairy valentine and for thirty minutes used Heather’s throat. She in the meantime had buried her right hand in her pussy, fisting herself in time to Bark’s thrusts. She already had come three times when she felt his cock bulge once more and eject a vast quantity into her mouth this time. The salty, gummy texture filled her watering mouth and as she swallowed, the depraved action triggered yet another massive orgasm that caused her to blackout.

End of part 1.

Whipping my Spanking Novel into shape

August 4, 2016August 10, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

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

Spanks for Dinner

July 8, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

I am the original author. Posted elsewhere 3/8/08

“Logan,” she said, “I am so excited about tonight. Where are you taking me for dinner?”

Logan continued to smile at Hillary saying nothing. He moved his eyes up and down her body nodding slowly. He raised a finger and slowly twirled it in the air.

Hillary took a trembling breath and spun in place causing her short skirt to flare to the top of her stockings. Again he raised his hand and motioned her to lean forward so that her dress revealed her cleavage. Her nipples grew even tighter in the caress of her silken bra that lifted her breasts in offering to her lover, now Master.

Logan moved closer and gazed down at her blond hair spilling over her shoulders as she waited with bowed head and firmly grasping her chin he raised her up to look into her green eyes.

“Do you have everything I asked you to prepare?”

“Yes Logan, and I can’t wait…”

Logan swiftly turned her around and bent her over. Two hard spanks, one to each cheek echoed in the entryway.

“What is my name, pet?”

Hillary moaned in his firm embrace, “Master, sir.”

Logan spanked her several more times, Hillary squealing at each blow and then he released her and stepped back.

“No!” he stated as Hillary started to stand up. “Stay bent over, show me your bottom.”

Hillary looked back through her bangs. “I’m sorry Master, what?”

Logan narrowed his eyes, “A simple request pet. Show… me… your… bottom. Now!”

Hillary was embarrassed but so incredibly turned on that her pussy was free flowing with her fluids and she could feel her panties already soaked. She reached back and grabbed the hem of her skirt and drew it up to her waist exposing her cheeks snugged tight on the sides by the boyshort style. Logan could see faint pink marks from the previous smacks. He could also see the damp center of her sex encased by black silk.

“Are you turned on pet?”

Hillary could only nod.

“And how many times did you come when dressing?” Logan asked.

“Twice sir.”

“Is that allowed? Whom do you belong to?”

Hillary swallowed, “I belong to you sir. I am sorry I came without your permission.”

Logan waited while Hillary’s legs started to tremble with the strain of being bent over. Her thoughts were wild with anticipation, what would he do now.

“Remove your panties,” he said.

This time she did not hesitate, but quickly lowered them to the floor and waited for his next command.

“Pick them up and hand them to me,” he ordered.

Logan received her sodden silk and turned them inside out then walked over and grabbed a chair. Sitting down he said to her, “Come here and stand next to me.”

Hillary obeyed and looked down at the floor.

“You must be punished before we go out to dinner. I want you to have a nice red bottom to sit on tonight. Open your mouth.” Logan pressed her panties onto her tongue and scrubbed vigorously. “Close your mouth and suck them while I spank you.”

He grasped her waist and bent her over his knee, then raised her dress baring her pristine flesh. Raising his hand he brought it down with force on her bottom. Smack, smack, the spanks rang out with sharp crisp sounds. Hillary was even more aroused as she writhed on his lap. The tart and sweet taste of her pussy was filling her mouth as she sucked the silk frantically while the pain radiating from her sore bottom was going directly to her clit that was aching with need. All too soon Logan stopped after delivering nearly 100 hard spanks that had turned her bottom a lovely shade of pink. Logan raised her up and lowered her dress. Reaching up he caressed her ruby lips and removed the panties from her mouth.

“You no longer need these. Now we are ready to go out to dinner.” Offering his arm to her, “Shall we?”

Hillary nodded and they walked out the door the cool night air wafting up her legs and fanning her overheated and throbbing bare pussy. It was going to be a long night. She couldn’t wait to see what else he had planned.

You may now spank the bride

September 19, 2009January 19, 2017lurvspanking7 Comments

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.