[No cats were harmed in the making of this blog. They all love to be spanked.] Exploring the psychology 'behind' spanking through fiction and poetry. Because, nothing says 'I love you' better than a red, sore, bare bottom. Comments welcome and discussion encouraged. I believe spanking between consenting adults leads to closer and more intimate relationships. Spanking is not a kink, not a fetish, not a lifestyle, but rather, a healthy and honest means of communication. Let your mind free and respect will follow. Contact me lurvspanking@gmail.com
“Finally,” Miss Frothinglips huffed. “Suckle and make it wet.” I sank to my knees and used both hands to grasp his bobbing prick. Opening my mouth to engulf the wet, shiny tip peeping from its sheath, she stepped closer and yanked my head away. “Not his cock, you dolt. Mine!” She slapped my face with her leather appliance for good measure. “Spit shine my knob, Ruby, before I plunder his arse.” She poked my lips and jabbed inside with remorseless pressure. I fear to say, she used me ill then. I choked and slobbered as she thrust into my throat.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
After I pulled the straps tight between Miss Frothinglips’ thighs, up through her crack and snugly around her waspish waist, I felt certain I was to be dismissed and, even rose unbidden to my feet to depart rather than be privy to my betters’ sinful intercourse. I should have known better: I did know better. Miss Frothinglips’ donned a figurative top hat, and commenced snapping out orders with all the crispness of a whip-wielding circus ringmaster. Albeit, one with an artificial phallus jutting aggressively above a soaking quim and bare bosom exposing hard nipples. “Ruby! Quit dawdling and prepare Sebastian.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Gentle Reader: I would surmise by this portion of my smutty tale, you believe nothing at Peacock House would shake me. That would be an incorrect assumption. In my era, even the most cloistered girl living under the strictest spiritual discipline, did not have to be taught a female’s place was under the male. That the roles could be reversed — that was beyond my comprehension. Yet here I was, once more on my knees, preparing for debauchery unlike anything I’d previously witnessed. Of course, with my wanton nature, simply watching was never going to work. I was ready and willing.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
I nodded in sympathy. Miss Frothinglips’ eyes were damp but clear. A feral twitch of her lips made me nervous, but it was not directed at me, rather at Mr. Steedstiff who was rummaging in his valise. Holding up an object, he shook it. “Is that for me?” I blurted out pointing at the straps connected to a long leather dildo. “No,” she fairly snarled. “It’s for me. Isn’t that right, Sebastian?” He bowed deep. “Yes, Mistress. My arse is yours.” Snapping her fingers she said, “Ruby, assist me.” At her behest, I stripped her naked and attached the harness.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
It was my turn to take deep breaths in order to calm my racing pulse. Wiping my slick palm on my skirt, I panted three times and raised my right arm out wide. Inhaling and holding, I released the air from my lungs with a convulsive exhalation as I swung, eyes fixated on the center of the target bent before me. I didn’t even hear the crack as the leather dug into and rebounded from her mooned posterior. I watched as my blow blossomed into fresh red vines swirling across the previous lines. He did not assist her to rise.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
He overrode her objections with a sharp rejoinder. “Do you wish more, Francine? Perhaps another two or three or more?” At her whimper he continued, “I thought not. Ruby, please proceed.” As I stepped back, the handle warm from his exertions, I nervously eyed the red stripes decorating her squirming bottom. Mr. Steedstiff placed restraining fingers on my arm. “One last thing, ladies. There will be no retaliation from this and, if you think to pull your blow, Ruby, I will thrash you not twenty-two times next week, but at least twice that. Do not hold back.” Miss Frothinglips moaned.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
The sharp cracking noise as leather impacted upon flesh shielded only by a thin layer of silk. Miss Frothinglips’ ever increasing distress as I counted silently the number of strikes. Fifteen! I am sure my internal exultation was likely matched in tone by her private relief. “Very well, Francine, you took that whipping quite bravely and only earned one extra.” He moved his boots away from my torso and told me to stand, whereupon he handed me the whip with a short bow. “Ruby, you will administer the final penalty stroke.” Astonished, my jaw fell open. Miss Frothinglips protested vehemently.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
I matched Miss Frothinglips’ cool aplomb. “Do your worst, sir. I am well aware of my helplessness in the face of such implacable depravity. I throw myself at your mercy.” I put actions to words and sprawled at his feet with a dramatic ‘thud’. Even she could not prevent a giggle from escaping hearing my histrionics. Mr. Steedstiff made a scolding noise and, not allowing me to move, straddled my prone body and clamped his boot-heels to my ribcage. I’d outsmarted myself: I could no longer see the whipping. I heard it though. The sizzle as the whip flew forward.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
She adjusted her posture and clearly spoke, “Yes, Sir.” I did not know whether I should look away. My choice was made for me. “Pay attention, Ruby. You will receive twenty for your role in this seduction and, should Francine earn extras, your total extras will be doubled.” If ever there was a time to quit while I was ahead, it was now, as the patent unfairness sunk into my mind. It’s a game. I intend to be a winner no matter what plots they weave. Decision made, easier than I’d ever thought, I knelt again, barely out of range.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Not so much though, when he opened the valise he’d brought, pulling out a short whip constructed with braided leather. Running the throngs through his palm with a sensuous expression he flicked it with a snap of the wrist. The hard ‘CRACK’ made both of us females flinch. My fear and longing spilled over into a confession. “I’ve just started my menses, Mr. Steedstiff.” CRACK! “I am well aware of the rules, Ruby, and will defer your discipline to later.” CRACK! “However, Francine, is under no such restrictions, are you, my dear?” A look of pure loathing came my way.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Miss Frothinglips leaped in his lordship’s defense. “It’s only because you are lowborn and naturally wanton, that you tempt him to sample your base pussy.” I shot back. “At least I don’t pretend to be a chaste virgin but allow huge ‘lowborn’ cocks to ream my ass every week.” Fire in her eyes, she made to slap me again, but Mr. Steedstiff intercepted her hand. “None of that, Francine. No matter your anger at Ruby, none of us here are innocent of lust. I do not intend to let jealousy distract me from the ultimate prize.” Prize? I was mystified.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
After a shocked silence that lasted for seemingly minutes, Mr. Steedstiff threw back his head and roared with laughter, drowning out Miss Frothinglips’ sputtering outrage. When he’d regained his composure, and muffled her protests with another searing kiss, he pulled me into an embrace. Still chuckling, he clucked my chin. “Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Mrs. Cleanknockers was more correct than even she guessed when she told us last night you were a mischievous imp. His lordship is at sixes and sevens not knowing what to do with you.” I frowned mulishly. “It’s hardly my fault. He set me on this path.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
This story was originally posted for Wicked Wednesday on June 28th, 2017 as Inexhaustible Smorgasbord, a one-off story. There are two versions below. The first is the unchanged flash fiction repost, followed by an edited version that expands upon the original writing into a draft for longer fiction. I’m still not sure about the concept. Even with the rewrite, it’s not what my vision is. I may or may not continue this, or do something else.
The sharp cracks had faded to muted rumbles; the late summer storm trundled to the east, trailing an ebony cloak glazed with jagged streaks of abstract white. At my feet, the dull granite setts slowly slaked a thirst; the detritus of tourists swirling into the gaping sewers leaving behind deceptively safe and clean shiny streets. Historic Old Town, painstakingly resurrected—twice—from the ashes of pitiless warfare, brooded in the sweet morning air. The western skies pulsed with urgency, delayed flights flung themselves recklessly at the obscured stars, hastening to meet global schedules grounded by adverse conditions.
I cupped my left hand. Had any been able to observe, the brief orange flare would have revealed a deep weary cynicism. I puffed the harsh tobacco, blew out a stream of fragrant smoke that lingered close as if terrified by the surroundings. I ignored the warning, watching instead the CCTV camera as it whirred atop the light pole. The police drones had departed with the onset of rain. This was pass through area for visitors by day; small shops catering in information and deceit. By night, contraband slipped past the law with practiced ease.
A vibration shook the front right pocket of my black linen trousers. If a phone could sound impatient the summons snarled at my unruffled savoir faire. The cigarette tumbled like an acrobat without a net: I stubbed it out with a faint hiss as it splattered on the damp pavement. Finally moving forward, the crepe soles of my shoes were silent as a grave.
The night wavered. Lean shadows peeled from brick façades and dropped from pockets of mist hovering above. To those without the Sight, nothing had changed. My escort surrounded me. Lethal, immortal, they were not here to help—they weren’t allowed where I was expected—but to ensure I fulfilled my oath. If thoughts could kill…
Jutting phallicly with a hostile and arrogant contempt at the ragged edge of tradition [reclaimed] and gentrification, the Cashmere Tower was the tallest building in the city. Money fountained like arterial blood from the professional tenants, none of it staying for long; sophisticated programs laundered the stains through shell companies and numbered accounts. Standard procedures for corrupt businesses protected by slick lawyers and bought politicians. My target was higher up the ladder—literally—the top ten floors pandered to a different type of cash flow.
Vice was timeless. Nubile flesh an inflation proof currency. Educated agents were shopping for fresh victims that wouldn’t be missed.
By mistake or deliberate malice—the first understandable, the latter an apocalyptic possibility—the procurers had lured the wrong one. Whatever the alchemy of designer drugs and DJ mixed trance that had created the circumstances of the snatch, it had not removed the clear traces of her passage.
I was their emissary.
The elevator was smooth and quiet.
Rows and rows of glittering females arranged as if waxed produce in bins filled the luxurious rooms. The buyers with their tablets snapped pictures, and fired off messages that raced around the world. The auction started later, but I was not shopping. My steel attaché was not filled with clean dollars or euros or yen, but a single jewel that pulsed with all the suppressed fury at the unrelenting humanistic devouring of magic.
I carried a portal strong enough to suck the entire building into the Outerlands were it not tuned to ‘rescue’ my target. If the dead-eyed brokers knew what their exotic captive actually was, they’d run screaming into the night; not that fleeing was a viable option should she choose to destroy rather than drink in the essence of fear and despair coating the dungeon walls.
Why I was chosen to interrupt the pain slut as she writhed in her bondage, driving her price higher with every blow of the whip: that is a story best told later. For when the Queen commands retrieval of her wayward daughter: who better to mount an escape, than the Princess’ estranged human husband.
That would be me.
Trafficked across the veil: Curtains for Betsy
They came from someplace else; that much the physicists and theologians agreed upon. From there, matters took a turn for the worse: much worse.
The part in where the hero attempts to reclaim his past.
The sharp piercing cracks had finally faded to muted rumbles. The late summer storm trundled to the east, insolently trailing an ebony cloak glazed with jagged streaks of abstract white. At my feet, the dull granite setts slowly slaked an endless thirst: the detritus of tourists swirling into the gaping sewers. Left behind were the deceptively safe and clean shiny streets.
Historic Old Town, painstakingly resurrected — twice — from the ashes of pitiless warfare, brooded in the sweet morning air, waiting for the sun to warm brick and cement. To the west, beyond the huddled slabs of public housing and abandoned factories, the sky pulsed with urgency, delayed flights flinging themselves recklessly at the obscured stars, hastening to meet global schedules grounded by adverse conditions.
I cupped my left hand. Had any been able to observe, the brief orange flare would have revealed a deep weary cynicism. I puffed the harsh tobacco — no ecigs for me — blowing out a stream of fragrant smoke that lingered close as if terrified by the surroundings.
Ignoring the warning implied by the carcinogenic swirls, I watched instead the CCTV camera as it whirred atop the nearest light pole. The police drones had departed with the onset of rain, the flatfoots sheltered in the all-night café, gossiping about the newest policewoman’s tits. This was pass-through area for visitors by day, the small shops catering in information and deceit. By night, contraband slipped past the law with practiced ease abetted by greased palms and greasier ethics.
A vibration shook the front right pocket of my black linen trousers. If a smartphone could sound impatient, its summons snarled at my weary savoir-faire and ennui. The cigarette tumbled to its death like an acrobat without a net: I stubbed it out with a faint hiss as it splattered on the damp pavement. Stepping forward off the curb, the crepe soles of my shoes were silent as a grave. Not mine: not this night at least.
If you were attuned, the pre-dawn wavered. Lean shadows peeled from brick façades and dropped from pockets of mist hovering above. To those without the Sight, nothing had changed. My escort surrounded me. Lethal, immortal, they were not here to help — they weren’t allowed where I was expected — but to ensure I fulfilled my oath. If thoughts could kill…
They didn’t like me: the feeling was mutual. Ritual snarls and posturing. I was suddenly exhausted by the drama. If not for my desire for revenge, I’d have pulled the trigger and exited this plane with a bang.
I often lied to myself. Lust played an oversized role in this operation.
Any one of the warriors at my side would have gladly seized the prize. Too bad for them I got there first.
Jutting phallically with hostile and arrogant contempt at the ragged edge of tradition [nostalgically reclaimed] and gentrification, the Cashmere Tower was the tallest building in the city. Money fountained like arterial blood from the quasi-professional tenants, none of it staying for long; sophisticated programs laundered the stains through shell companies and offshore numbered accounts. Despite the repeated hacks and journalistic exposures, it was all standard procedures for corrupt businesses protected by slick lawyers and bought politicians.
My target was higher up the ladder — literally — the top ten floors pandered to a different type of cash flow. Vice was timeless. Nubile flesh an inflation proof currency. Educated agents were shopping for fresh victims that wouldn’t be missed.
By mistake or deliberate malice — the first understandable, the latter an apocalyptic possibility — the procurers had lured the wrong one. Whatever the alchemy of designer drugs and DJ mixed trance that had created the circumstances of the snatch, it had not removed the clear traces of her passage.
I was their emissary.
The elevator was smooth and quiet.
What lay beyond the locked and guarded entrance was not.
Tears flowed. The fear filled the cold air with an intoxicating mélange of the most titillating scent of all: Fresh money.
Rows and rows of glittering females arranged as if waxed produce in bins filled the luxurious rooms. The buyers with their tablets snapped countless pictures, and fired off encrypted messages that raced around the world in an instant. No throttling of speed for this crowd. They owned the conduits on behalf of the 1%. Meat was meat — human livestock for consumption by those who could afford the very best.
The auction started later, but I was not bidding. My steel attaché with electronic lock was not filled with clean dollars or euros or yen, but a single jewel that pulsed with all the suppressed fury at the unrelenting humanistic devouring of magic.
I carried a portal strong enough to suck the entire building into the Outerlands were it not tuned to ‘rescue’ my target. If the dead-eyed brokers knew what their exotic captive actually was, they’d run screaming into the night; not that fleeing was a viable option should she choose to destroy rather than drink in the essence of pain and despair coating the dungeon walls.
Why I was chosen to interrupt the pain slut as she writhed in her bondage, driving her price higher with every blow of the whip: that is a story best told later. For when the Queen commands retrieval of her wayward daughter: who better to mount an escape, than the Princess’ estranged human husband.
She cried out then, with a girlish lisp, proceeded to blame me. “It’sss all her fffault. Ssshe sshould be whiiped toooo.” Mr. Steedstiff moved aside and spoke over his shoulder, his finger clearly embedded in her wet cunt. “Is that true, Ruby? Did you seduce poor innocent Francine with your low and cunning morality? Part her sweet thighs and steal her sweet naivety with your wicked mouth?” Inwardly I sighed with relief. It was all a game: A game I intended to win at all costs. I pushed away from the wall, walking with an insolent sway in my gait.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
To my astonishment, I could clearly see a dark blush suffuse her face and upper chest. “I got distracted, Sebastian.” His back to me, his expression was hidden, but not his actions. A hand slipped around to her front and wiggled up between her closed thighs. Her eyes closed—whether in shame or arousal I could not ascertain—but her reaction to his exploration was much louder than any I’d been able to elicit earlier. “Why, you naughty slut, Francine. Taking advantage of a helpless servant girl to satisfy your greedy quim. Shall I whip you for your wanton wallowing?”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Heavy knocking broke the fragile silence. Fraught with entangled emotions, until she infinitesimally raised a plucked brow at my hesitation, I did not move to answer the door. When I did so, Mr. Steedstiff was waiting in the passageway. I nodded, waiting for Miss Frothinglips to bade him enter. Evidently he was expected. “Sebastian, please come in.” I stood aside and began to close the door. “Ruby? Where are you going? I did not dismiss you.” Confused, I stepped back inside her room watching as Mr. Steedstiff—Sebastian—hugged and kissed her with evident passion. His hands gripped her bottom.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
My pride stinging more than my cheeks, I gazed at her silk slippers and braced myself for more abuse. She growled; like a spoiled lap dog to a suitor. Surprised, I raised my chin daring her to hit me again. Fingers reached out, stroked my jaw and then her mouth crushed my lips, tongue slithering past my teeth and subduing my anger. I thought I understood her confusion, so meekly submitted as she sought to reestablish her dominance. When she released me—with reluctance it seemed—she was once more the distant and haughty Miss Frothinglips. The afternoon became stranger.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
While she presumably cleaned, I did the same, wiping dry the floor and the stool. When I finished, I brushed off my uniform, stood at attention and waited. Wearing a long dressing gown trimmed with satin ribbons and floral embroidery, she strode, not towards her vanity to finish her daily ritual, but instead, without any warning, reached out and slapped me across my unsuspecting cheek. “Do not presume, Ruby, to seek liberties where none are offered.” Shocked at the vehemence more than the blow across my face, I must have expressed my inner smugness. SLAP! My head rocked once more.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Forcing her surrender had consequences, but even though in her frenzy she shoved me backwards arse-over-teakettle, inside I was smirking at her loss of control. Perhaps you believe I was naively being exploited, but I assure you, even then I knew my sensual prowess and submissiveness were the keys to a secure future. It was only fickle fortune that I loved every sexual aspect of unbridled lust. While awareness seeped back into her eyes, I remained seated on the floor awaiting her next desire. I pretended to notice neither her unsteady gait nor her destination of the enclosed water closet.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
My jaw began to ache. Other than heightened puffs of breathy inhalations, she made no vocalizations. Determined to provoke a reaction—I was used to Louisa’s earthy vocabulary and uninhibited passion—I slipped a finger into Miss Frothinglips narrow tight frontal passage. Wet heat clamped. I circled her swelled clit with my other thumb. Her thighs quivered. Still she was silent. The thumb moved lower. Her back portal was not virgin, even if her cunt had not been plundered by a prick. I rubbed my probing digits together, only a thin membrane between my tips. She slumped even further down.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Lifting her pink peignoir, she revealed the dimpled valley and rumpled hillocks of her womanhood. Her rich scent complimented her floral perfume that she habitually daubed from a crystal jar. She did not speak. I did not hesitate. A fleeting thought as my tongue lapped her essence, perhaps their confusion is due to my eagerness. Her filmy silk garment enclosed my head like dove’s wings as any mental whimsy flitted away under the influence of her dewy flux. As I licked and swallowed her rich crème, I noted she tasted much different then Louisa. Likely a better diet, not breeding.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
At this I panicked. I was no ladies maid and knew nothing of the upper-class toilette. With short, even shy shuffling steps I was drawn by her coiling finger: closer and closer until her upraised palm halted me only inches away from her body. Her head, level with my bosom, cocked sideways peering up as I looked down. “Kneel.” There was no ‘please’ in her command. I knelt anyway. It was only as her thighs leisurely parted and her elbows went back to rest upon the table that I realized her intent. As punishments went, licking her cunt seemed benign.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
At her dressing table, in careless déshabillé, she beckoned me forward. I did not meet her gaze in the mirror, but could sense her intense regard despite her seemingly casual posture and partial nudity. “Do you know why you are here?” I shook my head. “We had a meeting last night — your principle trainers. You puzzle us, Ruby. Did you know that?” Miss Frothinglips’ tone made it clear she expected a thoughtful response. “No, miss. I am but a humble maid and have sought only to do what I was told.” Her smile was predatory. “Lies will not avail you.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
This was my first time in her domain, and although we’d interacted—to salacious results at times—there was an unbreachable bastion between us. I would never be more than servant class, no matter how wealthy and influential my husband night be. She was aristocracy, and her blood was deemed better than mine. I did not mind. Ambition was tolerated — if not encouraged — but I had no desire for a glass slipper or a prince’s kiss. The gilded life seemed glamorous from the outside, but it was a cage nevertheless. “Good afternoon, Miss Frothinglips. I was told to report here.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
For those interested in an update about, The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie, click this link to be transported to my other blog.
I did not like deferred punishments. During a maid’s cycle, canings and whippings accrued to be given all at once when sexual servitude recommenced: An incentive to behave with extra circumspection and diligence. I of course, being an incorrigible termagant, piled up demerits like windblown red leaves against a fence. That was later though. Firstly came Saturday afternoon and an assignment to Miss Frothinglips. Was ever a surname more appropriate, I never encountered. “Enter.” I brushed my damp palms down my brushed out skirt. There were still smudges on my apron. Nervous, I pushed open the door to her suite.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
My fifth day in service was markedly different. It was exceedingly bizarre to not only be wearing a uniform at all times, but an undergarment girdling my loins. The fabric chaffed my tender nipples. The loss of freedom through lack of nudity felt like a day in gaol. Thus does one quickly become accustomed to circumstances even when some would label them beyond the pale. The roster was shuffled. Louisa and I swapped duties for the next three days. I much preferred scrubbing floors and being spanked, to her tasks of cleaning grates and oil lamps. I was very dirty.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
As I’ve mentioned before, Kismet of Submission, is soon to pulled from my blog. Much like I did with Stephanie — by the end of next month to be a published novella — what started as a Wicked Wednesday prompt and blossomed into a multi-month weekly serial thanks to reader’s comments, will be reworked into a full length novel. Almost all my longer fiction starts out on my blogs and depending how it is received, will determine if I want to explore further. Even then, most of what I write in flash fiction format, I have no desire to expand into longer stories.
The reason I bring this up, is because I am curious to what you — my readers — would like to see replace Kismet as a regularly scheduled Tuesday serial. I have several possibilities in mind, all of which can be found on my ‘Best of’ Page.
1. Spanking by Mail Order, is something I wrote back in 2009 and had several different plots.
2. Outlaw in Leather, a short piece about a foul-mouthed woman who takes what she wants.
3. Inexhaustible Smorgasbord, a paranormal noir fiction dealing with those that traffic across the veil.
These are the three that appeal to me the most, but maybe you have something else you like better. Feel free to leave a comment as I greatly appreciate your readership.
With that, back to work! These novels won’t write themselves!
Have I ever mentioned my Muse is a slave driver? WHIP! Well… OUCH… She is.
Gentle Reader: One of the [many] disadvantages of being a woman is the monthly. If you wish to showcase your education, using ‘menstruation’ in polite mixed company will invoke instant silence. Romances never mention feminine bleeding cycles—unless the fair heroine is breathlessly counting days to verify she’s increasing—one reason being that no sane female authoress would drag down suspenseful prose with cramps, bloating and general moodiness. Cinderella never broke out in facial blemishes. Which is why a man could never write from a womanly perspective about reproduction. They are too squeamish despite projecting an aura of virile bravado.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Once upon a time, in the Big City, a young woman, fresh from college, moved into an apartment and lost her way. It took a series of interesting events to get her back on the right track. Now available at online booksellers worldwide for your ereader device.
Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie on Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.
You may have noticed the picture above. If you were a reader last year from July 2016 onward, you also may have been a weekly follower of Stephanie’s misadventures every Wicked Wednesday. About a third of the way posting the 21 episodes, I announced my intentions to turn the flash fiction into a novella for publication. After editing, several rejections, more and more editing, Clarian Press agreed to publish the novella. Here are some links with more information:
1. At my other blog, I posted Stephanie’s Big Cover Reveal, written under my pen name, Byron Cane.
2. At Clarian Press, Stephanie’s permanent page with more information.
3. Also at Clarian Press, a blog post with more cover pictures about Stephanie.
4. The CEO and owner of Clarian Press, Ina Morata also blogged about Stephanie.
5. Some information about me from Ina’s perspective. My favourite spanking authors part 2
6. An interview about my writing style and motivation also with Ina. Author Interview: Byron Cane aka Lurv Spanking
As is normal, what follows is the complete 3,000-word Chapter 9 of The Bumhampton Chronicles. In this chapter, Ruby continues to find her true nature and discovers something that upsets her. The complete Chapter 10 is already written and will commence tomorrow as 100-word drabbles for the next 30 parts. I hope you continue to read the adventures at Peacock House, and thank you for all your likes and comments.
Gentle Readers: You would be forgiven in the belief that my ramblings seem to be exaggerated. This memoir represents an accurate accounting of my adventures, but there is much sadness as I pen these words. Nearly all the protagonists portrayed have passed on; and now, rediscovering the eager innocent glee with which I gloried in sensual revels, leaves me in melancholy nostalgia for the youthful naiveté I once enjoyed. Maturity comes to us all—eventually—usually upon the heels of tragedy. I’d landed on my feet in a situation I’d dared not dreamed after my mother died. Payment was due.
“So, Ruby, you are eager to be sodomized?” I ferociously hugged Mrs. Cleanknockers to my breast in my enthusiasm to sway her thoughts. “Yes, Ma’am! Will it hurt?” She tucked stray wisps of hair back into my bun. “That depends on the skill of the sodomizer and the desires of the recipient. Do your enemas hurt with the large nozzle?” I shook my head. “No.” I felt the familiar—if new—tingle in my loins. Arousal. Once ignited, it burned like wildfire, scorching everything in its path. “But I want it, I want it to hurt. Is that being naughty?”
Mrs. Cleanknockers gracefully rose to her feet, and with both hands, lifted me—rather less elegantly—until we stood with arms wrapped in close embrace. She licked my lips and danced her tongue inside my mouth. In between kisses, she murmured, “Very naughty… wanting pain… red whipped bottom… wet pussy… naughty rosebud hole… glistening salve… cheeks spread open… hard cock… harder dildo… taking you… in your hot arse… over and over… your tears… spur our cruelty…” I wanted—needed to be brought to culmination frequently: I didn’t care who supplied the fuel to my flames. I tossed up my skirts.
“What have we here?” I peered back at Mrs. Cleanknockers. “His lordship thrashed me for insubordination this morning.” I thrust my bottom up when she traced the lines of the caning. “I can see that, Ruby, but what I was referring to, was your sanitary belt.” I made to straighten up, but desisted when she pressed my shoulders down. “I am due my cycle soon. Louisa showed me the supplies. Besides wearing my uniform at all times, is there anything else required?” I watched her open a drawer and withdraw a paddle. Tapping my bottom, she raised her arm high.
CRACK! The impact rocked my torso forward, and I grabbed my ankles to prevent falling on my face. CRACK! “There is a ledger I maintain in which each female staff member is monitored.” CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I didn’t know why I was being spanked, and quite frankly, could care less. The painful stinging over my welts and bruises was driving me mad with desire. CRACK! “Stand up and face me, Ruby!” I spun round so fast I felt dizzy. She gave me a wry smile. “His lordship… is not fond of menstrual blood, and checks the updated status each afternoon.”
I, being still rather ignorant, asked Mrs. Cleanknockers if aversion to monthly bleeding was a normal male reaction. As she returned the paddle to its velvet cradle, she replied, “In my experience, it has been the norm that men find women’s courses, and the attendant heightened emotions, to be at best, an inconvenience, and at worst, something to be feared and loathed.” Having grown up poor, surrounded by females working before dawn till after dark trying to survive, I was woefully unprepared for the nuances of male companionship. The rap on the door startled me: Mrs. Cleanknockers loitered on purpose.
Mr. Jones-Smyth was shortly ushered in by my apparent chaperone. (That horse had already bolted) Mrs. Cleanknockers was composed and dignified as only a plenipotentiary chatelaine could present. “Good afternoon, Mister. May I enquire as to your mission?” He was anything but in control as he shifted from side-to-side and spun the brim of his hat through crushing fingertips. Not quite meeting my startled eyes, he begged my pardon for his unconscionable actions of yesterday. “I have no excuse for my unbecoming behavior, and will completely understand if you wish to cry off our engagement” I glanced at Mrs. Cleanknockers.
Her expression was inscrutable and, without guidance, I spoke from my heart. “Mr. Jones-Smyth, I have no intention of crying off, and accept your apology. I would wish we move on from the incident in question and resolve to press forward together with a clearer intent.” He was clearly both surprised and relieved with my forthright statement. He gave me a slight bow, and reached out to kiss the back of my hand. “In that case, dear Ruby, it would give me the greatest pleasure if you would honor me with a carriage drive in the country this Sunday afternoon.”
I beamed with delight. “Chester! I would adore a ramble through the countryside with you at my side.” Mrs. Cleanknockers cleared her throat softly. “With proper escort, of course.” Her tone brooked no nonsense. “Louisa shall accompany you and the three of you will return within two hours.” Mr. Jones-Smyth readily agreed and he departed much less apprehensive that he’d arrived. “I should return to waxing the floor, Ma’am.” She gave me a tight smile and left as well. I stood there for a brief spell of time until, sinking to my knees, attempted to scrub Chester from my thoughts.
By dinner bell, I was starved, and I attacked my meal with carnivorous ferocity: Daintily, of course. Up to the schoolroom I flew on wings of romantic fancy. To my delight, Louisa was already present, and we squealed as if parted for months rather than minutes. We tried, honest, to behave with decorum and concentrate on our studies, but—we were very, very naughty I’m afraid. Unbeknownst to us, Mr. Steedstiff had received specific instructions in case of misbehavior. Caught passing notes, the other maids giggled as we were made to stand, uniforms drawn up in back, in opposing corners.
Every fifteen minutes, for the remainder of the session, he caned us twice where we stood, for a total of eight strokes. I at least had been tenderized throughout the day, but poor Louisa had to take Mr. Steedstiff’s whippy blows on cold skin. After he dismissed the rest of the class for bedtime, he ordered us into his adjacent study. My pulse pounded, remembering what other girls apparently were ‘forced’ to do. “Girls. I am very disappointed you both decided gossiping is more important than expanding your knowledge. His lordship goes to great time and expense on your behalf.”
With downcast heads and wretched expressions, we humbly apologized. I knew he was correct. No other master I had ever heard of before made a point of educating staff, never mind useless females—in society’s eyes. I swore to him I would redouble my efforts and never pass notes in class again. When I at last dared look at him, his eyes appeared to twinkle even though his mouth was a thin line. “Louisa, come here and kneel. You know what to do.” She glanced at me, before going to her knees, opening his trouser front then removing his cock.
When she opened her mouth, and he pressed the large head between her lips, I moaned softly. When, after several minutes of audible wet sucking, he withdrew a hard shaft the diameter of my wrist and longer than my hand, I took an eager step forward. When he looked at me and said, ‘Kneel’, I fairly dove to my knees next to Louisa. Stretching my mouth until my jaw popped, I stuck out my tongue and waggled the tip. Mr. Steedstiff obliged. I had wanted a rematch from my embarrassing performance in the Gun Room several days prior. Eyes watered.
When it was Louisa’s turn again, she smoothly took nearly the entire length of Mr. Steedstiff’s cock into her throat. I could clearly see the bulge it made, and he fucked her mouth as if it was her pussy. “Have you been practicing how not to gag, Louisa?” I asked, remembering how she’d struggled as well. She shrugged. “I’ve never had that problem. Just lucky I guess.” Her tone was slightly bitter. “Oh, but I thought—.” She grimaced as he thrust. “I lied.” I couldn’t help hugging her one-armed as he switched back to me. I stole a kiss.
He was much gentler, but I couldn’t stop gagging every time he stoked deep. Switching back yet again, Mr. Steedstiff reached down and, with gestures, had me lick his wet base as he moved in and out of Louisa with long sweeps. When it was my turn again, I tried forcing my throat to open. I growled as I failed. “Why can’t I do this?” He held me back and asked, “Do you truly want my cock deeper?” I sucked him back in and jabbed forward: I felt his large hands pull my skull closer. I heaved, but quickly swallowed.
“Stand up, Ruby, we’re going to try something different.” Clearing a chaise arm, my head dangled. The back of my neck cupped, upside down, I watched his cock approach. My throat felt more open and with his cock poised halfway in, he said, “Deep breath, on the count of three. One… tw—” He quickly shoved right through my gag reflex. My hands flailed at his thighs as his pubic hairs tickled my nostrils. Panic flared. He held for only seconds—it felt interminable—and when he pulled out, I twisted my head, coughing and spitting phlegm. His prick returned.
I tried to relax. We repeated the sequence until my entire face was soaked with saliva. By the end of the training session, I was proud that I could take his entire length with only minor choking. He finished by spraying his spunk all over Louisa’s face: I lapped her clean with eager puppy-like licks. In a haze of Sapphic lust, we tumbled to the floor, tongues entangled and fingers probing wet orifices under ruched skirts. Pinning her down, I freed her swollen nipples and suckled like a babe. “Girls? As much as I enjoy the Lesbos trade, it’s bedtime.”
Two little mice scampered down the dark hallway and up the steep stairs to our attic cubbies. Mrs. Cleanknockers had given us tacit support—provided we were discreet—to sleep together in two cots lashed together. Uniforms were tossed and laughing, we fell onto the hard surface. The single lamp cast a halo around her soft features and my heart clenched with the love I felt for this girl. “I never thought I could feel this way about a woman.” She smiled and lifted her fingers to release my bound hair. “I feel the same way, Ruby. You’ve saved me.”
“Saved you?” I said. Curious as to why Louisa felt that way, I asked, “How can I have saved you? I’ve only been here four days!” Her lips covered mine. Hands slipped to naked shoulders and with steady pressure, drew me down into bliss. Side-by-side, we stroked and fondled; our nipples tight beneath pinching fingers and pussies made wet by probing thumbs. “Until you, my dearest Ruby, I’ve hated the sexual slavery here at Peacock House. I’ve fought back and been punished. My orgasms have been ripped unwillingly from me, and my body a toy for others to play with.”
“Oh, Louisa! I had no idea! I’m so sorry and angry that you’ve been so abused! His lordship will hear about this in the morn!” She bolted upright in alarm at my bold declaration. “NO! Ruby, you cannot… you will not challenge his lordship over this! It is the way of the world and I forbid you to reveal what I’ve told you in private.” I too sat up and soothed her agitation with caresses and solemn promises. I confessed my own sins by stating I loved—I craved sex and wanted it all the time with anyway who asked.
“Truly, Ruby? You enjoy the sex and beatings?” In the dimness her eyes sparkled and her round mouth reflected her astonishment. “Yes, Louisa, I wish Mrs. Cleanknockers would whip and spank me all day long, as I was tied to the horse and used in all my orifices by the entire staff. I have become a wicked slattern doomed to Hell… but I don’t care.” My tone was defiant. “If my fiancé desires my training to be as asset to his business, and my body the currency with which it prospers, then I will be a dutiful and obedient wife.”
Louisa sounded bitter. “I doubt I’ll ever marry. Who would want such a wretch as I?” I seized her hands in mine. “Then you will come with me. We will all live together and you, my beloved, will be my dearest friend, confidante and wanton lover.” She pulled back and vigorously shook her head. “That will never work, Ruby.” I sniffed and said, “Yes it will. On our Sunday afternoon outing, I will simply tell Chester that you are to be my bosom companion.” Her face remained skeptical: I resumed our interrupted coitus with a reminder my bum needed attention.
Our lumpy pillows shoved under my hips, I wriggled impatiently as she fetched the ointment tin. Rather than her palm though, I felt the rasp of her tongue tracing the numerous lines and mottled markings all over my backside. Her wet pelvis slapped my shoulders as she straddled my torso. Her deft tongue danced down my crack as she bent over and, with calloused fingers, wrenched my sore cheeks apart. What can say about the act of feuille de rose? The earthy, slick, sometimes bittersweet and tangy oil that can found nestled betwixt the plump hemispheres of the female form.
Persistently pressing pliable petals with furled tongue, repeated efforts will cause the rubbery exit to yield slightly. Combined with the heady aroma wafting from the adjacent pussy, the scents and tastes drive one mad with lust. Louisa lapped and drilled my virgin anus, while her nose rubbed my clit, and delved inside my wet cunt. By the time she ceased her licking, I’d spent twice and lay there facedown wondering if I’d ever be able move again. Greased palms swirled the paste across my globes from meridian to poles. “Harder,” I whispered, the pressure on my bruises causing deep moans.
I was a puddle by the time she finished. Urging me on my back, she maneuvered her waist until her furry nest loomed in my blurry vision. Simultaneously, we feasted. My nostrils inhaled her rosebud. My thumb, slick with saliva, wiggled inside her bum. My lips suckled her fleshly folds, teeth gently gnawed and limber tongue stretched deep inside her pussy then mercilessly lashed her clit. She returned the favor as we snuffled like pigs rooting for truffles. My face was soaked with her essence. Her shuddery cries of passion vibrated in my secret garden. We reaped what we sowed.
Our last act, before collapsing in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs, was to attempt insertion of as many fingers in pussies as possible. She managed four with thumb thrumming my clit as I screamed. Her more experienced entrance swallowed my hand to the wrist. Fucking her with flexed fingers, her hips thrashed in frantic frenzy. I could feel her supple inner walls rippling with each climax, until copious fluids coated my probing digits and splashed my throat and chest. I know not how many orgasms we stole from each other, but the bedding was soaked and our voices hoarse.
My legs trembled as if I’d run miles to escape my past. Damp cloths wiped sensitive skin and finally, when we lay on our backs, lamp extinguished and skittering pulses normal, we held hands and dreamed about the life we wanted to have. “Do you want children, Ruby?” My reply, ‘Doesn’t every woman?’ elicited a sardonic sounding snort. “Not this woman. Being rutted upon, swelling up like a melon, then likely dying nine months later is not something I crave.” I turned on my elbow to face her. “Not every mother dies in childbirth.” Her voice was flat. “Mine did.”
“By the time I could walk, I’d been passed around like a rotten turnip to so many relatives, I didn’t want to be with any of them. Our home burned to the ground, my father with it, when I was fifteen. He was an angry drunkard who beat me whenever he could. So I got good at running and hiding.” I lay back down and threw my arm across her breasts. “How did you end up here?” Louisa sighed. “My mother’s second cousin knew His lordship, whether he knew the extent of the depravity that occurs here I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry, Louisa. I promise I will take you away with me when I wed.” She tilted her head and gently kissed me. “I’m sorry too, Ruby, that I was such a heinous bitch to you.” I kissed her back and laughed. “I think you’ve more than made up for that lapse of character. If nothing else, your wicked tongue has been put to better use.” She giggled and swatted my arm. “It’s all your fault, Ruby. If you didn’t taste so good, I wouldn’t keep making sniping snide comments.” My teasing reply. “My little love slave needs a reminder.”
Louisa rolled on her stomach without protest. Only the faintest of light showed in our room, but my hand unerringly located her plump bottom. I was very tired, but managed a brisk spanking to usher in our sleep. Drawing the itchy blanket and rough sheet to our chins, we murmured our love to each other, drifting off to dream. I was smiling, the vision was clear; a white-stucco house, with roses climbing trellises in riotous abandon. Sitting on a stone garden bench, my children gamboling like kittens with their dear Aunt Louisa: Chester giving them rides on his broad shoulders.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Louisa rolled on her stomach without protest. Only the faintest of light showed in our room, but my hand unerringly located her plump bottom. I was very tired, but managed a brisk spanking to usher in our sleep. Drawing the itchy blanket and rough sheet to our chins, we murmured our love to each other, drifting off to dream. I was smiling, the vision was clear; a white-stucco house, with roses climbing trellises in riotous abandon. Sitting on a stone garden bench, my children gamboling like kittens with their dear Aunt Louisa: Chester giving them rides on his broad shoulders.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
“I’m sorry, Louisa. I promise I will take you away with me when I wed.” She tilted her head and gently kissed me. “I’m sorry too, Ruby, that I was such a heinous bitch to you.” I kissed her back and laughed. “I think you’ve more than made up for that lapse of character. If nothing else, your wicked tongue has been put to better use.” She giggled and swatted my arm. “It’s all your fault, Ruby. If you didn’t taste so good, I wouldn’t keep making sniping snide comments.” My teasing reply. “My little love slave needs a reminder.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
My legs trembled as if I’d run miles to escape my past. Damp cloths wiped sensitive skin and finally, when we lay on our backs, lamp extinguished and skittering pulses normal, we held hands and dreamed about the life we wanted to have. “Do you want children, Ruby?” My reply, ‘Doesn’t every woman?’ elicited a sardonic sounding snort. “Not this woman. Being rutted upon, swelling up like a melon, then likely dying nine months later is not something I crave.” I turned on my elbow to face her. “Not every mother dies in childbirth.” Her voice was flat. “Mine did.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Our last act, before collapsing in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs, was to attempt insertion of as many fingers in pussies as possible. She managed four with thumb thrumming my clit as I screamed. Her more experienced entrance swallowed my hand to the wrist. Fucking her with flexed fingers, her hips thrashed in frantic frenzy. I could feel her supple inner walls rippling with each climax, until copious fluids coated my probing digits and splashed my throat and chest. I know not how many orgasms we stole from each other, but the bedding was soaked and our voices hoarse.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
I was a puddle by the time she finished. Urging me on my back, she maneuvered her waist until her furry nest loomed in my blurry vision. Simultaneously, we feasted. My nostrils inhaled her rosebud. My thumb, slick with saliva, wiggled inside her bum. My lips suckled her fleshly folds, teeth gently gnawed and limber tongue stretched deep inside her pussy then mercilessly lashed her clit. She returned the favor as we snuffled like pigs rooting for truffles. My face was soaked with her essence. Her shuddery cries of passion vibrated in my secret garden. We reaped what we sowed.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Persistently pressing pliable petals with furled tongue, repeated efforts will cause the rubbery exit to yield slightly. Combined with the heady aroma wafting from the adjacent pussy, the scents and tastes drive one mad with lust. Louisa lapped and drilled my virgin anus, while her nose rubbed my clit, and delved inside my wet cunt. By the time she ceased her licking, I’d spent twice and lay there facedown wondering if I’d ever be able move again. Greased palms swirled the paste across my globes from meridian to poles. “Harder,” I whispered, the pressure on my bruises causing deep moans.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Our lumpy pillows shoved under my hips, I wriggled impatiently as she fetched the ointment tin. Rather than her palm though, I felt the rasp of her tongue tracing the numerous lines and mottled markings all over my backside. Her wet pelvis slapped my shoulders as she straddled my torso. Her deft tongue danced down my crack as she bent over and, with calloused fingers, wrenched my sore cheeks apart. What can say about the act of feuille de rose? The earthy, slick, sometimes bittersweet and tangy oil that can found nestled betwixt the plump hemispheres of the female form.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
Louisa sounded bitter. “I doubt I’ll ever marry. Who would want such a wretch as I?” I seized her hands in mine. “Then you will come with me. We will all live together and you, my beloved, will be my dearest friend, confidante and wanton lover.” She pulled back and vigorously shook her head. “That will never work, Ruby.” I sniffed and said, “Yes, it will. On our Sunday afternoon outing, I will simply tell Chester that you are to be my bosom companion.” Her face remained skeptical: I resumed our interrupted coitus with a reminder my bum needed attention.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
“Truly, Ruby? You enjoy the sex and beatings?” In the dimness her eyes sparkled and her round mouth reflected her astonishment. “Yes, Louisa, I wish Mrs. Cleanknockers would whip and spank me all day long, as I was tied to the horse and used in all my orifices by the entire staff. I have become a wicked slattern doomed to Hell… but I don’t care.” My tone was defiant. “If my fiancé desires my training to be as asset to his business, and my body the currency with which it prospers, then I will be a dutiful and obedient wife.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
“Oh, Louisa! I had no idea! I’m so sorry and angry that you’ve been so abused! His lordship will hear about this in the morn!” She bolted upright in alarm at my bold declaration. “NO! Ruby, you cannot… you will not challenge his lordship over this! It is the way of the world and I forbid you to reveal what I’ve told you in private.” I too sat up and soothed her agitation with caresses and solemn promises. I confessed my own sins by stating I loved—I craved–sex and wanted it all the time with anyway who asked.
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
I tried to relax. We repeated the sequence until my entire face was soaked with saliva. By the end of the training session, I was proud that I could take his entire length with only minor choking. He finished by spraying his spunk all over Louisa’s face: I lapped her clean with eager puppy-like licks. In a haze of Sapphic lust, we tumbled to the floor, tongues entangled and fingers probing wet orifices under ruched skirts. Pinning her down, I freed her swollen nipples and suckled like a babe. “Girls? As much as I enjoy the Lesbos trade, it’s bedtime.”
Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.
If it’s the first day of the month, then there is a new post at my other blog, Byron Cane Spanking and Erotic Fiction.
Spank Me Hard! ... Please? 