Z is for Zealot

A person who is fanatical and uncompromising in pursuit of their religious, political, or other ideals.

Zealot is a negative word. After all, compromise is at the heart of human endeavors. When it comes to spanking though, I’ll accept the label of zealot. 😉

I love spanking. As my blog address states: I Lurv Spanking. Why? No idea. I just know that no sexual act brings me as much satisfaction as spanking. And yes, I do believe that spanking is sexual. [Discuss that among yourselves.]

When it comes to D/s, I am fully uncompromising in supporting spanking between consenting adults, whether it be punishment, discipline, erotic, playful or therapy. Spanking is not weird, abnormal, deviant or damaging when done correctly and with respect.

I’m fanatical in reading and writing about spanking. As the saying goes: Spanking; I’m a big fan. I do think though, that too much time and effort is wasted on analyzing the whys and hows of spanking. Either you enjoy spanking, top, bottom or both; or you don’t. I don’t actually go out of my way to eat Brussels sprouts, but I don’t mind them. If that’s how you feel about spanking, then you’re not a spanko.

Nothing wrong with that. Spanking is not a litmus test for D/s. You can be submissive and never be spanked. Boundaries are there for a reason. On the other hand, just because you enjoy being spanked doesn’t mean you are submissive. A real zealot [I’m just a wannabe] insists on strict rules and has zero tolerance for deviation. That’s not me. Spanking should always have at its core, a feeling of naughty fun.

Happy Spanking!!!!!!

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

Y is for Yes

Yes: Old English gēse, gīse, probably from an unrecorded phrase meaning ‘may it be so.’

Da, Ja, Oui, Si, Ha, Ya, Hai and many others represent a simple, yet very complex word. Yes is not simply the opposite of no. In BDSM, yes is actually a physical representation of the dichotomy between Dominance and submission.

“Yes, I want you to spank me.” is a more difficult state of mind than: “Do you want me to spank you?” requiring a yes in response. Both of those however, are more difficult for a submissive that simply hearing; “I’m going to spank you now.” or, even better, “Bend over. Now.”

The latter two statements are not a result of saying yes, but rather, having a D/s relationship that includes a default “yes” as the primary driver of action. For a Dominant, the assumption is — unless otherwise negotiated — that yes, once given, is permanently in place and therefore consent is not needed again. The submissive in this case will likely get… cheesed off by his/her Dom/me constantly asking for permission to proceed. Nothing kills the mood faster than “Are you okay, honey? Is your butt too sore?”

Domly confidence is the ultimate aphrodisiac. So says 4 out of 5 subs. 🙂

Confidence is not arrogance though. Nor stupidity. Or cruelty. Or just being a bloody stupid wanker who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a bare bottom. In those cases, yes means no, and fuck no! is an always appropriate response. Don’t be taken in by slick lines and thick wallets. Yes maybe fine for a one-night stand, but in the long-term, getting to yes means finding out what triggers the no. If the nos outweigh the yeses, it’s time for a rethink.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

W is for Wonderful

Wonderful: inspiring delight, pleasure, or admiration; extremely good; marvelous.

If that’s not a definition for how a jolly good spanking feels, then I don’t know what else comes close. 🙂

I do realize that defining spanking, D/s or all-out BDSM as wonderful, likely causes a few eyebrows to twerk. But I respectively submit that a bottom, bared for chastisement, does indeed ‘inspire delight’ and the feel and sound of palm spanking fulsome cheeks is a source of great ‘pleasure’ for both parties involved. One can feel ‘admiration’ for how wonderfully a willing submissive takes a good, hard thrashing; while the reverse is certainly true as the Dom is rewarded for their expertise with sexual favors given in admiring gratitude. An ‘extremely good’ spanking is a ‘marvelous’ thing of beauty that rivals any masterwork displayed in a museum.

In this day and age of instant gratification, and the tsunami of information available with a few clicks and swipes, there is good reason to turn off the devices, draw the curtains, and spend some quality time over-the-knee contemplating all the wonderful things in your life and relationships. Connecting through spanking and D/s is a time-honored tradition and one that is both solemn and silly. So embrace both and enjoy the wonder of D/s. Happy Spanking everyone.

Wonder: Old English wundor (noun), wundrian (verb), of Germanic origin; related to Dutch wonder and German Wunder, of unknown ultimate origin.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

V is for Violent

A violent thunderstorm. A violent earthquake. A violent eruption.

A violent spanking?

Using or involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something. Middle English (in the sense ‘having a marked or powerful effect’): via Old French from Latin violent– ‘vehement, violent.’

To non-practitioners, BDSM is often linked with domestic violence. To many, there is no possible consent when it comes to using physical force intended to hurt. Yes, spankings hurt. So do floggings, canings, whippings, paddlings, tawsings, and the occasional wooden spoon and other handy household implements. But intending to hurt, depends on the intent. Simply stating “please spank me”, does not give anyone the right to do so in a reckless and violent manner. D/s is a serious business.

I don’t think anyone who loves BDSM would consider themselves or what they do to be violent. By the strictness of definitions, a spanking involves force whether by hand over-the-knee or tied to a bench and caned. Unless the spanked doesn’t have a functioning nervous system, then it will hurt to some degree depending on the boundaries previously established and the level of consent given by all involved parties. Having said that, the intersection between hurting violence and damaging violence is where a consensual relationship meets law enforcement.

It is never alright to force someone into submitting against their will. It is never alright to physically or mentally abuse someone without their knowing consent and cooperation. It is never alright to be violent for violence’s sake.

And lastly: Self-violence may be a sign of serious health issues and should not be taken lightly.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

R is for Ridiculous

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.” Indicating contempt.
“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing happened.” Indicating exasperation.
“Why would you even consider doing such a ridiculous thing?” Indicating disbelief.

All three of these sentences could be about anything at all, but for the sake of this essay, let us assume the subject matter involves spanking.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of. You want to be spanked? That’s just stupid.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing happened. I would never spank someone, no matter how badly they behaved.”
“Why would you even consider doing such a ridiculous thing? Spanking is so perverse and degrading.”

Ridiculous: deserving or inviting derision or mockery; absurd – mid 16th cent.: from Latin ridiculosus, from ridiculus ‘laughable,’ from ridere ‘to laugh.’

Is BDSM ridiculous as described in the definition above? Deserving derision or mockery? Absolutely not. Inviting the same? Wellllllll. Like every human endeavor, there is always a hint of the absurd lurking in the not so distant background. However, it is also the case, that only those involved, deeply involved in a particular activity, are allowed self-mockery. Spanking is a serious business: except when it’s not. If you’re not a spanko, you’re never understand the need — the craving — for the burning heat, and orgasmic submission that spanking can engender in the parties concerned.

What is ridiculous is how often we humans feel the need to poke our digits in other’s private lives. It’s absurd that my welfare could be endangered by consensual BDSM practiced halfway around the globe. [That’s ‘globe’ as in the Earth, not globe as in an arse.] Personally, I feel that if more people gave spanking a try, they’d discover that life doesn’t have to be a dreary slog towards the inevitable end. Carpe diem, and all that. Get that slogan off your shirt and back where it belongs. Over a knee and loving every smack.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

N is for Naughty

There are certain word pairs in the English language that automatically go together. Bacon and eggs, milk and cookies, fish and chips… it seems that many of them are food. But the pair I’m thinking about is:

Naughty and giggles.

Think about it. Say ‘naughty’ out loud. Are you grinning? Smirking at least? There is something so satisfying about doing something, or simply being, well, naughty. The fact that naughty boys and girls get spanked by their Doms and Dommes is merely icing on the cake for the kinky spankos of the world.

Being naughty is also how most — if not all — of us got interested in BDSM. Looking up spanking in the dictionary. Playing with dolls or soldiers and punishing them for various nefarious deeds. Realizing that rope is useful for far more than skipping or that a spatula creates a lingering sting. Discovering that secret and furtive masturbation is much more explosive when fantasizing about being taken-in-hand, or taking the hand to a supple bottom, or two or three. ‘Don’t be naughty!’ is one of the first phrases we learn to obey when young, and depending on the upbringing, one that can sink deep hooks into our psyche.

When it comes to D/s, any conversation that brings it up, not matter how obliquely, is likely to result in stammers and blushes. After all, is there anything more naughty than sitting with friends discussing sex and spanking? How embarrassing to know that your family and/or friends now know you’re a submissive, and that your Significant Other is fully empowered to discipline you at any time. Why, they probably think you’ve got a flaming sore bottom right at this moment! How… Naughty!

But you see, I like to spank my Naughty Girl, not because I can [of course I want to as often as possible] but because she wants me to spank her. And if she’s honest, she’d admit, even if only to herself, that she needs to be spanked. So even though adult spanking can be done because somebody was naughty and needs a sharp lesson in behavior, it also can be done as foreplay, or even spanking to orgasm. So when your naughty submissive starts giggling, it’s past time to put them over your knee and treat their bottom to some loving, albeit naughty smacking.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

H is for Horrendous

It should come as no surprise that horrendous comes from the same root word as, horrible, horrid, horrific and horror. That word is horrere, Latin meaning: ‘tremble, shudder, (of hair) stand on end.’ The contemporary definition is: ‘extremely unpleasant, horrifying, or terrible.’

Hair standing on end though can result from many different things. Fright, yes, but also emotions such as awe, arousal, happiness and the awareness of being attracted to someone. For many, that feeling occurred the first time they realized an aspect of BDSM was the missing piece in their life. What happened from there depends on whether or not — horrendous — is as negative as its definition.

Extremely unpleasant: not only unpleasant, but extremely. That seems a bit… extreme. Horrifying: that seems a bit more understandable, considering how successful roller-coasters and horror movies have always been. Terrible: a little weak; a meal can be terrible as can a traffic jam.

When it comes to D/s, the area I like to focus on is spanking. Straightforward, over-the-knee, skirt up, panties down spanking. Can that experience ever be called horrendous? 🙄 Of course it can, ladies and gentleman of all persuasions. {Keep in mind always, that I only write about consensual spanking between legal adults in the jurisdiction of your domicile.} Grabbing someone and flailing away as if trying to swat a mosquito seldom leads to a happy ending. A spanking received by someone who is clueless and unaware of the nuances can be extremely unpleasant.

By the same token, a spanking delivered by a “professional” — any Dom in good-standing may rightly claim this address — can also be extremely unpleasant when circumstances warrant. The difference is that in this case, the recipient knows full well they deserved a ‘damn good thrashing’ and can count themselves fortunate that the chastisement wasn’t longer and harder.

There is nothing more horrifying than your Dom stating, quite calmly and pragmatically, the whys, wheres and hows of your transgression and then pointing out, “you’ve earned every stroke with your — fill-in-the-blank — behavior.” Your stomach starts flip-flopping and you break out in a fine sheen while you grow light-headed. The top of the hill grows ever closer and the terrible realization that you have no choice but to go over the edge has your heart pounding.

When it’s over, and the closing ceremony is complete, you look back, rubbing your sore cheeks, and bite your lip, wondering when you can experience this crazy, wild, horrendous feeling of helplessness and terror all bound together with arousal and acceptance that always leaves you a bit more in love and a lot more submissive than when you first stated an interest in BDSM.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

B is for Beaten

It is possible that some people believe the ‘B’ in BDSM, stands for ‘Beaten’. It is indubitably a harsher word than spanking, but on par with whipping, flogging, caning, scourging, and all the other delightful words humans have created to describe the act of physical chastisement. In D/s however, being beaten can describe an intricate and intimate dance. An artistic performance if you will.

“Why would you let him/her/they beat you? Are you crazy?”

Well.
No, actually. I’m quite sane.
Thank you for asking.

Beating — in whatever format it takes place — can be fun. It can be pleasurable. Or painful. For many, humiliation plays a vital role in intensifying the endorphin high. For some partner(s), being beaten is punishment. Punishment requested, often demanded, by the submissive. Being beaten cleanses the palate, clears the guilt and shame from wrong-doing. No matter what role it plays, playing a role in which beating takes center stage, allows the trust to become ever deeper.

But there is another definition more commonly utilized that explains why describing an over-the-knee, skirt up, panties down beating creates such a visceral reaction in relation to D/s. It is the zero-sum game we call competition. Humans are naturally competitive, but we all too often reduce that to a life-or-death equation. There can be only one winner in a contest between individuals, institutions, businesses, teams or nations.

I/we win. You lose. Nah-nah.

D/s is not a zero-sum game. (And no, I’m not talking about abuse and domestic violence.) D/s is about… well, whatever you want. Foreplay or role-play, a hobby or a lifestyle, it can be whatever you need so that all participants win.

Gold medals for everyone!

P.S. Just a thought for you: Why are male Doms viewed with suspicion, but female Dominatrices revered?

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

The Bumhampton Chronicles: The Complete Chapter 12

Gentle Reader: Sunday erupted with a flourish of cornets and thunder of timpani. The birds were chirping sweet melodies as I shook a grumbling Louisa awake. “It’s time to get up! Our chariot awaits.” Alas for poor Ruby. In truth it was pouring. Typical dank English weather and the roads would be a quagmire for coaches. No matter: if we stiff upper-lipped Britains cowered at the sight of mere liquid from the skies, we’d never have ruled such a vast Empire. “Forward Louisa! Once more unto the breach.” She whacked me with her pillow. I yanked her off the cot.

Church services were not mandatory, but I’ve always found the liturgy soothing and the sermons to be comforting. Peacock House had a family chapel, but the village of Lower Bumhampton was within easy walking distance. My boots were soiled, my soul in mortal peril, but my heart danced on rainbows. I was going riding with my lovers; my mind turned wicked envisioning the possibilities of three enclosed in private carriage. I searched my conscience, but found no jealousy at the thought of Chester fucking Louisa. I am sure having wet drawers in church is a sin, but how can love?

It is said the sensual and spiritual cannot co-exist, yet, unrepentant sinner that I am, I do not feel my prayers vanish unheard into the void. Unheeded perhaps: but not unremarked. By the time I trudged back, in silent company with those who had joined in raising voice in hymn, my entreaties seemed to have had an effect. Coyly peering around sullen ranks of stern, grey clouds, frowning in displeasure at Sabbath activities, was the welcome disk of golden sun bathing me in warm benediction. One must seize signs when they occur. To do otherwise mires the soul in hopelessness.

After luncheon I changed my padding. Thankfully I was only lightly flowing and had only minor symptoms from the assortment of ailments the woman’s curse brought each double fortnight. I resolved not to mention my courses to Chester, unless his hands strayed toward my southern hemispheres. I fretted over what to wear — or not to wear. We only had two hours together. I didn’t want to be seen as a frivolous, vacuous female; but I cared about my appearance. My wages had yet to be paid for the first week: at month’s end thirty pieces of silver creased my palm.

I was loath to ask for an advance, and the few shillings I brought with me to Peacock House wouldn’t even purchase a yard of ribbon, never mind fabric for a new frock. Louisa attempted to soothe my fret as I paced our room, oft-darned shift twitching with every impatient spin. “I don’t have anything to wear!” My plaintive wail was so unlike my normal disposition a part of me mockingly chided my immaturity. “Ruby, Mr. Jones-Smyth won’t give a fig about your attire. Look at me! Compared to you, I’m a drab hen in the shadow of your plumage.”

I paused to glare at her. There was no heat in my expression. Pouting in the small mirror, my voice was sulky. “I want him proud to be seen with me.” I spun back to face Louisa, pleading for her understanding. “A man of his social stature needs a helpmeet of impeccable grooming and manners.” Her response was a derisive snort of mocking laughter. “Will the introductions take place before or after he’s whipped and fucked you into submission?” I raised my hand. She was spared a good bare-bottomed beating over my knee by a timid knock on the door.

Nearly lost beneath a puffy mound of silk and lace, was Miss Frothinglips’ personal maid, Ellie. “My mistress sent me with this loan of a gown.” Any trepidation over her possible motive instantly turned to greed. In a trice, Louisa and Ellie had me trussed into stays — Miss Frothinglips’ sylphlike figure was several magnitudes thinner than mine — multiple petticoats and even silk stockings with frilly garters. With my hair piled high into an elaborate twist, the girl now staring wide-eyed in the mirror, bore only a passing resemblance to the orphaned waif of the prior week. “That’s me?” I marveled.

Internally though, I was wracked with nervous doubt. Louisa — bless her deviant heart — had the perfect cure for my jitters. Ordering me to place my unshod foot upon the ticking, Ellie then supported my lower torso. My hems were lifted. Sinking to her knees, Louisa burrowed under my borrowed finery. The first touch of her calloused fingers on the backs of my thighs made me start. Ellie tightened her grip as my head lolled onto her shoulder. I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment when Louisa lowered first my drawers, then my girdled padding. “What are you doing? I’m ble—”

Lowering my voice, I hissed with mixed emotions. “I’m bleeding!” A matter-of-fact, “So?” was all Louisa said as her nimble tongue followed the righteous path blazed by her sturdy hands. Soon they were working me over in tandem. Muffled snuffles made me giggle, but two slender digits slipping into my slippery pussy made me gasp with surprise. Whatever shame I still felt was soon swept aside by rising lust. This was not a leisurely poke on a lazy afternoon; Louisa was determined to frig me off in a hurry. My clit hardened. My nipples engorged. Tangy musk permeated the room.

I was proud of my tight purse, the friction growing hotter as she increased her tempo, slamming her palm against my swollen lips with each inward thrust. The slurpy sounds made me aware of how soaked Louisa’s hand must be. For some reason, I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment. That was subsumed with rapture when the straining tips of her nimble fingers rubbed a place deep inside. I instinctively tilted my pelvis, begging as I did so. “Again. Right there. Oh. Oh. Yes. Harder.” Waves of contractions crashed over my nerves, muscles tightened, clamping down as my orgasm crested.

It broke on the shore of hedonism. I gave a strangled scream, choked off with held breath as my climax rolled on and on; the white frothy comber sweeping all thought before its relentless power. It wasn’t until we were walking down the last flight of stairs — me on shaky legs and Louisa still licking her chops — that I realized my borrowed silk drawers were missing. Louisa gave me a wink and a nudge. “He’s only got two hours with you, Ruby, I think he should have easier access, don’t you think?” Despite the padding, my thighs were very damp.

The thought of Chester nuzzling me down there caused a fresh spurt of moisture. I moaned. “What is he going to think of me?” She patted my bustled behind whispering, after she nipping my earlobe, “He’ll think he’s a dashed lucky cove for having such a randy piece for a fiancée.” She gave me a sharp jab, like an angry goose; my bottom awoke and peered round seeking more pinches. What I got was more teasing. “I can’t wait to see you… flat on your back. Knees pinned to your shoulders and Mr. Jones-Smyth pounding your messy quim into meringue.”

I staggered; her words — and my vivid imagination — sent another climax ripping through my pussy. “You won’t be able to walk straight for a week.” Louisa’s laugh was low and evil sounding. “Maybe after he’s done fucking you senseless, I’ll be able to push my entire hand up your creamy cunt and show him how rough you like to be treated.” My groan was pitiful. “Please, Louisa. No more. I’m about to combust.” Saved from likely self-immolation by the dashing bloke himself, who popped to his feet as we entered the front parlor, I managed a wobbly, but credible, curtsy.

The bouquet was lovely. I searched out a vase, my automatic response as servant eliciting a giggle from Louisa and an arched brow from Chester. He deftly inserted conversational remarks about the weather [the geese were happy this morning] my outfit [the colors brought out the highlights in my eyes] Louisa’s ruddy health [such a delightful contrast to fragile porcelain] and with steady social banter, managed to guide both of us to the waiting coach. It was a struggle, but I managed to both keep my feet and wits from stumbling. “Will you be our whip this afternoon?” I blushed.

He laughed at my faux pas, giving us a hand up, each in turn. “No, dearest one, I shall seize the moment to relinquish the reins… and whip, to instead sacrifice the fresh air and drama of driving for the opportunity to ride inside two beautiful ladies of my recent acquaintance.” His double entendre made us titter like choirgirls. I didn’t know much about carriages or horses, but it had four wheels, an enclosure and a driver who was seemingly impatient to get rolling. Thus began my first liaison; complete with a duenna of dubious worth, as events soon proved.

“So, where are we taking us, Chester? Are the roads passable?” I sat across from him, facing forward, Louisa at my side. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, to your latter question and, I thought I would show you one of our — my — factories that is fairly close by.” He nudged the bulging hamper on the floor with his foot. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring some provisions for a light repast, should you be so inclined.” I smiled too, a little ruefully. “Normally, I’d never turn down tea—” Louisa interrupted, “Or a man offering to take liberties with your person.”

I smacked her arm as I continued, “—al fresco, but this blasted corset has squashed my liver to paste.” Louisa honked in mirth. “And besides…” I hesitated until he encouraged me to explain. I gazed out the window with blushing cheeks. “I’m… I’m having my monthly.” His inscrutable expression reminded me of when my late mother would play cards, late at night, with some friends of hers. I’d watch from my cot, thin blanket pulled tightly around my head, as they gossiped and bluffed the hours away, pretending for a short time that the wolf was at someone else’s door.

I was yanked from my poignant memory by his serious and thoughtful response. “Rest assured, Ruby, I will not banish you to a red tent every four weeks out of some belief you are unclean. Your cycle is part of the natural order of life.” My heart flipped cartwheels at his declaration. He reached over and clasped my hand. “As my wife, you will be accorded all due respect and courtesy inherent to your position.” The imp perverse couldn’t resist tweaking. “Even when that position is over your knee?” I squawked when he swiftly slung me across his broad lap.

He fumbled with my voluminous skirts then, with an exasperated command, ordered Louisa to assist in baring my bottom. “But I can’t be spanked!” The carriage swayed as it rounded a corner, and his hands reached out to steady us both. “Why ever not, Ruby?” I craned my neck around trying to express my earnestness. “Mrs. Cleanknockers said that no maid is to be disciplined during her time of the month.” I pleaded with Louisa. “Tell him it’s the truth.” Rather petulantly, I thought, she reluctantly corroborated my explanation. “So you see, Chester, you shan’t spank me today.” He pinched.

I squealed. “If you put your glove back on, sir, you’ll be able to give Ruby a right sound thrashing for her impertinence. I certainly won’t rat you out to Mrs. Cleanknockers.” Louisa sounded so sweetly innocent. “Don’t listen to her, Chester, she just wants to see my bottom turn red.” The leather covered hand he stroked across my upturned cheeks felt as soft as silk. “Do you offer an alternative, Ruby?” I waggled said cheeks, impatient for him to probe deeper into the dark dell. “Well…” My voice was triumphant. “I offer you my handmaiden and whipping girl instead!”

“What?” shrieked Louisa, “I shall not be beaten in your place, Ruby! You are a cruel and wicked mistress.” The driver called out, “We’ve arrived, sir,” saving her from imminent defilement. The rocking motion ceased, Chester lifted me to my feet. I shook out my skirts and plumped back down in my original place next to Louisa, who gave me a murderous stare. As he hopped out, reaching in to snatch the hamper, I squeezed her fingers in warning and winked. “This isn’t over, Ruby,” she hissed in annoyance. I whispered just as he offered his hand, “How about sex?”

The buildings were quite impressive. Grimy red brick, ivy growing in wild profusion interspersed with wild roses; the complex stretched along the river and up the hillsides. “This is all yours?” Something fleeting and indecipherable passed over his face before he gave a tight, little smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “This, and multiple others elsewhere in Britain.” I dismissed the shadows in his expression and nattered gaily as we strolled in the copse of above the placid millrace. Reaching a stone outcropping, he snapped out a folded blanket and opened the hamper. We arranged ourselves: a trio of strangers.

Strangers I say, and strangers I meant. We conversed as we nibbled cheese and bread; sipped cider and lemonade. We were awkward; Peacock House hovered over us like the dark storm gathering in the southeast. Before the first splatters of precipitation blew over the manufactory complex, we were snugly settled back in our coach, and headed towards Lower Bumhampton. My earlier rash statement lingered like an overripe pear. “If that’s what want, Ruby, I’ll do it.” Louisa sudden outburst startled both Chester and I. We began to answer, “Wha—”: he deferred to me with studied gesture. I nodded my thanks.

“What do mean, Louisa?” My tone was soft and compassionate. “You know. What you said before. About me being your whipping girl.” I laid my cheek on her rigid shoulder. “Oh, my darling, please forgive me. I was being petulant and naughty.” I kissed her gently. “I did not mean my rash words.” Some of the tension seeped from her frame. “But…” I grasped her face, turning it towards me. “But?” She met my intense gaze briefly, lowering her eyes to speak. “But what if I want it.” She looked back up with a troubled frown. “To be spanked. Fucked.”

The smoldering sensuality never far beneath my skin roared to life at her words. For once, caution held my tongue in check. I tipped her chin to mine: we communicated for long minutes silently until I was satisfied she was sincere. “On your feet, whipping girl.” My harsh voice lashed the placid air. Our conveyance swayed, Louisa teetered and half fell/was assisted over my knees. Her single layer of dress with a thin shift was yanked above her waist; her plump bottom cringed in anticipation. “Sir?” I addressed Chester. “I apologize for my uncouth behavior earlier and offer this recompense.”

He scooted forward to the edge of his seat; his boots anchored against our bench for stability. His gloved hands prodded and squeezed the bountiful flesh splayed out for his use. SMACK! SMACK! The first blows made her jump and catch her breath with a short squeak. As he liberally peppered her bared globes, I stroked her hair with one hand and the other resting on her bowed back. I avidly watched the milky skin turn steadily darker, a sunset on a hot summer’s evening, when the vivid colors draw your enraptured gaze heavenward. “So that’s how you spank hard!”

I could tell he was not using his full strength. Even so, it was an impressive display of martial prowess. It was enough to make me forget she was actually across my lap, so focused on her red bottom were we. Chester paused and shook his right hand with a rueful glance. “Even with the leather, it stings my palm.” Louisa shook as well, I think with laughter, for her tone was light. “Stings? Sir, you should see it from my vantage point.” He and I chorused in unison, “We are!” then burst into companionable chuckles. “It looks very painful.”

This time her voice was one of wounded dignity. “That’s because it is painful!” I rubbed her hot skin. “Poor baby. Maybe next time you’ll behave.” She harrumphed and wiggled her rump. “Does that mean you want more?” She pressed her butt higher. “Alright then, Chester, spank her another ten times and make them very hard.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Louisa cried out with each one and, when he finished, gave a little hip shimmy as she tried in vain to cast off the sharp sting in her tail. “Let that be a lesson.”

Alas, my whipping girl learned nothing about proper decorum for — no sooner had she rolled upright — she sank to her haunches and freed the lump that had grown in Chester’s trousers. His cock sprang out like Punch, as Judy likely did backstage, she devoured his stiff truncheon whole. Louisa made the most peculiar noises, growling and snuffling as if rooting for truffles. Bobbing up and down with evident enthusiasm, I thought she intended to swallow his seed, but instead — popping off with a loud ‘slurp’ — she spun around to face me, eyes hazed with lust and whipped up her skirts.

“Fuck me!” was all she screamed before clamping her mouth on mine. Three souls linked, I fancied I could taste their mingled juices and feel his cock pounding her from behind like an animal. It was raw, primitive and rough. Jolting through ruts, splashing through mud, the exterior world ceased to exist as the scent of sex drove us home. Frantic, she kissed me, her tongue trying to pull me inside her moaning mouth. As he stammered he was about to spend, in a flourish of lace, we were suddenly side-by-side on the floor, his pulsing cock spraying our faces.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 30)

“Fuck me!” was all she screamed before clamping her mouth on mine. Three souls linked, I fancied I could taste their mingled juices and feel his cock pounding her from behind like an animal. It was raw, primitive and rough. Jolting through ruts, splashing through mud, the exterior world ceased to exist as the scent of sex drove us home. Frantic, she kissed me, her tongue trying to pull me inside her moaning mouth. As he stammered he was about to spend, in a flourish of lace, we were suddenly side-by-side on the floor, his pulsing cock spraying our faces.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 29)

Alas, my whipping girl learned nothing about proper decorum for — no sooner had she rolled upright — she sank to her haunches and freed the lump that had grown in Chester’s trousers. His cock sprang out like Punch, as Judy likely did backstage, she devoured his stiff truncheon whole. Louisa made the most peculiar noises, growling and snuffling as if rooting for truffles. Bobbing up and down with evident enthusiasm, I thought she intended to swallow his seed, but instead — popping off with a loud ‘slurp’ — she spun around to face me, eyes hazed with lust and whipped up her skirts.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 28)

This time her voice was one of wounded dignity. “That’s because it is painful!” I rubbed her hot skin. “Poor baby. Maybe next time you’ll behave.” She harrumphed and wiggled her rump. “Does that mean you want more?” She pushed her butt higher. “Alright then, Chester, spank her another ten times and make them very hard.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Louisa cried out with each one and, when finished, she gave a little hip shimmy as she tried in vain to cast off the sharp sting in her tail. “Let that be a lesson.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 27)

I could tell he was not using his full strength. Even so, it was an impressive display of martial prowess. It was enough to make me forget she was actually across my lap, so focused on her red bottom were we. Chester paused and shook his right hand with a rueful glance. “Even with the leather, it stings my palm.” Louisa shook as well, I think with laughter, for her tone was light. “Stings? Sir, you should see it from my vantage point.” He and I chorused in unison, “We are!” then burst into companionable chuckles. “It looks very painful.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 26)

He scooted forward to the edge of his seat; his boots anchored against our bench for stability. His gloved hands prodded and squeezed the bountiful flesh splayed out for his use. SMACK! SMACK! The first blows made her jump and catch her breath with a short squeak. As he liberally peppered her bared globes, I stroked her hair with one hand and the other resting on her bowed back. I avidly watched the milky skin turn steadily darker, a sunset on a hot summer’s evening, when the vivid colors draw your enraptured gaze heavenward. “So that’s how you spank hard!”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 25)

The smoldering sensuality never far beneath my skin roared to life at her words. For once, caution held my tongue in check. I tipped her chin to mine: we communicated for long minutes silently until I was satisfied she was sincere. “On your feet, whipping girl.” My harsh voice lashed the placid air. Our conveyance swayed, Louisa teetered and half fell/was assisted over my knees. Her single layer of dress with a thin shift was yanked above her waist; her plump bottom cringed in anticipation. “Sir?” I addressed Chester. “I apologize for my uncouth behavior earlier and offer this recompense.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 24)

“What do mean, Louisa?” My tone was soft and compassionate. “You know. What you said before. About me being your whipping girl.” I laid my cheek on her rigid shoulder. “Oh, my darling, please forgive me. I was being petulant and naughty.” I kissed her gently. “I did not mean my rash words.” Some of the tension seeped from her frame. “But…” I grasped her face, turning it towards me. “But?” She met my intense gaze briefly, lowering her eyes to speak. “But what if I want it.” She looked back up with a troubled frown. “To be spanked. Fucked.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 23)

Strangers I say, and strangers I meant. We conversed as we nibbled cheese and bread; sipped cider and lemonade. We were awkward; Peacock House hovered over us like the dark storm gathering in the southeast. Before the first splatters of precipitation blew over the manufactory complex, we were snugly settled back in our coach, and headed towards Lower Bumhampton. My earlier rash statement lingered like an overripe pear. “If that’s what want, Ruby, I’ll do it.” Louisa sudden outburst startled both Chester and I. We began to answer, “Wha—”: he deferred to me with studied gesture. I nodded my thanks.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 22)

The buildings were quite impressive. Grimy red brick, ivy growing in wild profusion interspersed with wild roses; the complex stretched along the river and up the hillsides. “This is all yours?” Something fleeting and indecipherable passed over his face before he gave a tight, little smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “This, and multiple others elsewhere in Britain.” I dismissed the shadows in his expression and nattered gaily as we strolled in the copse of above the placid millrace. Reaching a stone outcropping, he snapped out a folded blanket and opened the hamper. We arranged ourselves: a trio of strangers.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 21)

“What?” shrieked Louisa, “I shall not be beaten in your place, Ruby! You are a cruel and wicked mistress.” The driver called out, “We’ve arrived, sir,” saving her from imminent defilement. The rocking motion ceased, Chester lifted me to my feet. I shook out my skirts and plumped back down in my original place next to Louisa, who gave me a murderous stare. As he hopped out, reaching in to snatch the hamper, I squeezed her fingers in warning and winked. “This isn’t over, Ruby,” she hissed in annoyance. I whispered just as he offered his hand, “How about sex?”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 20)

I squealed. “If you put your glove back on, sir, you’ll be able to give Ruby a right sound thrashing for her impertinence. I certainly won’t rat you out to Mrs. Cleanknockers.” Louisa sounded so sweetly innocent. “Don’t listen to her, Chester, she just wants to see my bottom turn red.” The leather covered hand he stroked across my upturned cheeks felt as soft as silk. “Do you offer an alternative, Ruby?” I waggled said cheeks, impatient for him to probe deeper into the dark dell. “Well…” My voice was triumphant. “I offer you my handmaiden and whipping girl instead!”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 19)

He fumbled with my voluminous skirts then, with an exasperated command, ordered Louisa to assist in baring my bottom. “But I can’t be spanked!” The carriage swayed as it rounded a corner, and his hands reached out to steady us both. “Why ever not, Ruby?” I craned my neck around trying to express my earnestness. “Mrs. Cleanknockers said that no maid is to be disciplined during her time of the month.” I pleaded with Louisa. “Tell him it’s the truth.” Rather petulantly, I thought, she reluctantly corroborated my explanation. “So you see, Chester, you shan’t spank me today.” He pinched.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 18)

I was yanked from my poignant memory by his serious and thoughtful response. “Rest assured, Ruby, I will not banish you to a red tent every four weeks out of some belief you are unclean. Your cycle is part of the natural order of life.” My heart flipped cartwheels at his declaration. He reached over and clasped my hand. “As my wife, you will be accorded all due respect and courtesy inherent to your position.” The imp perverse couldn’t resist tweaking. “Even when that position is over your knee?” I squawked when he swiftly slung me across his broad lap.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 17)

I smacked her arm as I continued. “—al fresco, but this blasted corset has squashed my liver to paste.” Louisa honked in mirth. “And besides…” I hesitated until he encouraged me to continue. I gazed out the window as I spoke. “I’m… I’m having my monthly.” His inscrutable expression reminded me of when my late mother would play cards, late at night, with some friends of hers. I’d watch from my bed, blanket pulled tightly around my head, as they gossiped and bluffed the hours away, pretending for a short time that the wolf was at someone else’s door.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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.

Now a Major Motion Picture: The Wedding Games

From Vladivostok they came
to play a wedding game
a case of vodka the prize
with competitive eyes
they rushed
and they popped
when to everyone’s surprise
up flipped their skirts
the groomsmen smirked
so the bride declared a tie
and ordered them birched
so all they got
for bursting their balloons
was to forfeit the knickers
and abstain from the liquor
but the boyfriends did rise
[to the occasion]
and after the toasts
made the most of the roast
that their girlfriend’s behinds had become

so let that be a lesson
when playing silly games
if the camera is rolling
keep your underwear from showing
and never
ever
piss off the bride

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 16)

“So, where are we taking us, Chester? Are the roads passable?” I sat across from him, facing forward, Louisa at my side. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, to your latter question and, I thought I would show you one of our, my, factories that is fairly close by.” He nudged the hamper on the floor with his foot. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring some provisions for a light repast, should you be so inclined.” I smiled too, a little ruefully. “Normally, I’d never turn down tea—” Louisa interrupted, “Or a man offering to take liberties with your person.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 15)

He laughed at my faux pas, giving us a hand up, each in turn. “No, dearest one, I shall seize the moment to relinquish the reins… and whip, to instead sacrifice the fresh air and drama of driving for the opportunity to ride inside two beautiful ladies of my recent acquaintance.” His double entendre made us titter like choirgirls. I didn’t know much about carriages or horses, but it had four wheels, an enclosure and a driver who was seemingly impatient to get rolling. Thus began my first liaison; complete with a duenna of dubious worth, as events soon proved.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 14)

The bouquet was lovely. I searched out a vase, my automatic response as servant eliciting a giggle from Louisa and an arched brow from Chester. He deftly inserted conversational remarks about the weather [the geese were happy this morning] my outfit [the colors brought out the highlights in my eyes] Louisa’s ruddy health [such a delightful contrast to fragile porcelain] and with steady social banter, managed to guide both of us to the waiting coach. It was a struggle, but I managed to both keep my feet and wits from stumbling. “Will you be our whip this afternoon?” I blushed.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 13)

I staggered; her words — and my vivid imagination — sent another climax ripping through my pussy. “You won’t be able to walk straight for a week.” Louisa’s laugh was low and evil sounding. “Maybe after he’s done fucking you senseless, I’ll be able to push my entire hand up your creamy cunt and show him how rough you like to be treated.” My groan was pitiful. “Please, Louisa. No more. I’m about to combust.” Saved from likely self-immolation by the dashing bloke himself, who popped to his feet as we entered the front parlor, I managed a wobbly, but credible, curtsy.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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.

Coffee Klatch was never like this

This is part 2 of The Dastardly Dom’s story for Wicked Wednesday. Last week’s post is called: The care and feeding of submissiveness. It will make more sense to read part 1 first, since it is a direct continuation, but this flash fiction also works alone.

Vittoria’s screamed plea still rang in Dominic’s ears. Tolling like an iron bell, her emotional outburst combined with her tears broke open a part of his psyche that always made him uncomfortable. The part that liked to hurt her. Even now, even with the anger still bubbling and sensing the compassion with which he held his sobbing wife; even now, he wanted to bend her over and whip her ass. To see and hear the tears flow faster. “I’ll do something,” he murmured. “I promise.” He rocked her gently back-and-forth, crooning a wordless lullaby as she very gradually relaxed with shuddering gasps.

“I’m sorry, Dominic. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.” Vittoria smiled tremulously, wiping her wet lashes. “Forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you, honey.” Dominic leaned in, giving her a deep kiss. “That is, if you make me some fresh coffee.”
She reared back, suddenly confused. “Coffee? At this time of night?”
A slow smile creased his cheeks. A cruel grin in fact. “Are you hard of hearing, Miss Caparelli? I do believe I gave you an order.”

She shuddered, conflicted. The raw memories merged with Dominic’s sneering words. What stayed her biting response though, was a spurt of dampness in her knickers. Closing her eyes, she fought for control.

“Don’t fight me, Miss Caparelli, you’ll regret it.”
“I wasn—” her startled gaze meeting his narrowed stare.
“And don’t lie, or you’ll discover why the secretarial pool calls me The Dastardly Dom.”
Awkwardly, she clambered to her feet, straightening her crumpled jogging pants and brushing out the creases. “Yes, sir. I’ll bring your coffee as quick as I can.” As she left the room, he called out, “And change your clothing, Miss Caparelli, into something more appropriate — and revealing. I like my women sexy and easy.” Her pussy clenched. His misogynistic and leering tone was turning her on. Her shame grew even deeper.

She discarded the pod, watching sightlessly as the brown fluid streamed into the ceramic mug. Like an escalator, her thoughts ran ceaselessly; going up, then down. A cycle of self-recrimination and hatred. The soft beep startled her. The acid churned. She swallowed hard and walked, shuffled back to her husband. Tears sprang anew. How he must loath me now.

Dominic heard her coming, reluctance in every step. How I love her. He put his hands behind his head, the chair reclining as she approached his desk, carefully setting the steaming brew on the blotter.
“Your coffee, sir. Will there be…” He waited as she blinked furiously. “Be anything else?”
He took a sip, watching as she rubbed her hands in apparent nervousness. “Yes, there is.” He kept drinking, expression impassive as he drew out the moment until the tension in her frame seemed ready to snap. “You know I’ve always admired your work, Miss Caparelli.”
“You have?” Vittoria blurted out, then covered her open mouth with both hands.
“Oh yes. I admire a great number of things about your work. You’re punctual, always willing to be a team player and, most importantly…” He set the mug down with a gentle thump.
She bit her lip, eyes peering sideways. “Importantly? Sir?”
He rose to his feet, moving around the desk, perching on the corner. “Most importantly, Miss Caparelli, is your grooming. Impeccable.” Dominic lifted a strand of her long, brunette hair, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. “You always look good enough to eat.”
“Coffee, tea or me?” Vittoria couldn’t help but giggle.
“Precisely.” He motioned for her to spin.
She felt her heart thump as she obeyed, the pleated hem swishing around her lower thighs, nipples tightening as his eyes caressed her chest.
“So glad to ‘see’ the new dress code leads to perky attitudes.” Dominic stood, going behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I believe this is where we left off, Miss Caparelli.” He squeezed tighter, slipping his fingers onto her upper arms. “I’m sure we can find some mutually satisfying means in which you can compensate for your careless actions… that cost this company money. Do you remember that part?”
She tried not lean back into his embrace, but to play the role of frightened employee desperate to keep her job. “I sorry, sir. I was going it pay it back! I am going to pay it back. I only needed medicine for my sick little brother.”
Fighting back a laugh at her dramatic improv, Dominic reached lower and cupped her breasts over her shirt. “You will pay, Miss Caparelli, believe me.” He gave a throaty chuckle. “Over and over again, you will pay.”

Vittoria whimpered.
Dominic swelled.

With a flourish, he swept the desktop clear — not the half-filled coffee cup, rest assured. “Your recompense, Miss Caparelli, will begin — note; only begin — with a sound spanking. Where we go from there will depend on your compliance to my demands.” He barked, “Is that clear?”
“A spanking?” She smacked her cheeks in wide-eyed horror. “I’ve never been spanked before, sir! I couldn’t possibly bend over your desk!” She belied her protestations by doing just that. “Like this, sir?” looking over her shoulder with brimming eyes.
He hissed softly, adjusted his tight pants, wanting nothing more than to whip up her skirt, yank down her knickers and ram his aching cock deep into her wet depths. The more his wife submitted, the more his beast growled with delight. “Reach back and raise your skirt, Miss Caparelli.”
The tight lace was slowly revealed, molding the toned flesh that called to his hand. “You are such a tease.”
“No I’m not!” she protested. “I’m a good girl! You’re forcing me to do this.”
SMACK! His palm made contact with her bottom. SMACK! “Yes you are.” SMACK! “You’re a tease. Always flaunting your body around me, fucking me with your eyes. I know what bad girls like you need.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
She cried out as the slaps grew harder and quicker. “Stop! Why are you doing this to me? I don’t want this.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Really? All you have to do is say, red, and I’ll stop.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “But I bet you don’t want me to stop, because deep down, you’re actually a slut.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Am I right?”
“Noooooo,” she wailed as he kept whaling. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “I don’t like this.”
Dominic grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her head back as he rubbed her red bottom with the other. “Shall we find out then? Pull your knickers down, Miss Caparelli.” He nipped the base of her neck. “If they’re dry, I’ll let you go, unmolested.”
She moaned as his teeth clamped, sending quivers down her spine. “And if not?”
“If they’re not…” He ran his tongue in a long swipe up to the corner of her mouth. “If — as I suspect — they are sopping wet — you’ll let me whip you with my belt, followed by sucking my cock and then begging for me to take your innocence.” He released her head, pushing it down until her cheek rested on the desk. “Do we have a deal?”

As The Dastardly Dom’s belt belt lashed her jutting buttocks, Vittoria’s hand was a blur as she frigged her swollen clit and wet folds. This was one memory of her boss she’d relive over and over again, this time without shame.

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

Writing for fun and [hopeful] profit

As you know, as Byron Cane, I am participating in Smut Marathon 2018. Until March 10th — next Saturday — you can vote at this link here for the top three stories you like best. What I did was copied and pasted the 62 stories into a Word docx. and by condensing, printed out 15 pages to read later. The results of Round 2 will be announced on Sunday, March 11th along with the names of the 40 writers to advance to Rounds 3 and 4. Please vote, we had a very light turnout last time.

Smut Marathon 2018 Participant

This coming Thursday, March 8th, is International Women’s Day. In honor of that, Sexy Little Pages is publishing their latest anthology, Corrupted. I have the honor of having a short story accepted called, Ghosting Past Emily. You can read more about the story at my other blog with this link. The anthology is currently available for pre-orders through a number of online retail stores via this link here.

If you haven’t explored my blog, there is a page titled: Published fiction available for purchase as Byron Cane. You can follow the links to Amazon and purchase ebook copies of my works.

The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

Coming soon will be another novella, The Witch of Olympus Hollow. I’ll provide links when it is published.

The Witch of Olympus Hollow

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 12)

The thought of Chester nuzzling me down there caused a fresh spurt of moisture. I moaned. “What is he going to think of me?” She patted my bustled behind whispering, after she nipping my earlobe, “He’ll think he’s a dashed lucky cove for having such a randy piece for a fiancée.” She gave me a sharp jab, like an angry goose; my bottom awoke and peered round seeking more pinches. What I got was more teasing. “I can’t wait to see you… flat on your back. Knees pinned to your shoulders and Mr. Jones-Smyth pounding your messy quim into meringue.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 11)

It broke on the shore of hedonism. I gave a strangled scream, choked off with held breath as my climax rolled on and on; the white frothy comber sweeping all thought before its relentless power. It wasn’t until we were walking down the last flight of stairs — me on shaky legs and Louisa still licking her chops — that I realized my borrowed silk drawers were missing. Louisa gave me a wink and a nudge. “He’s only got two hours with you, Ruby, I think he should have easier access, don’t you think?” Despite the padding, my thighs were very damp.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 10)

I was proud of my tight purse, the friction growing hotter as she increased her tempo, slamming her palm against my swollen lips with each inward thrust. The slurpy sounds made me aware of how soaked Louisa’s hand must be. For some reason, I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment. That was subsumed with rapture when the straining tips of her nimble fingers rubbed a place deep inside. I instinctively tilted my pelvis, begging as I did so. “Again. Right there. Oh. Oh. Yes. Harder.” Waves of contractions crashed over my nerves, muscles tightened, clamping down as my orgasm crested.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 9)

Lowering my voice, I hissed with mixed emotions. “I’m bleeding!” A matter-of-fact, “So?” was all she said as Louisa’s nimble tongue followed the path blazed by her sturdy hands. Soon they were working me over in tandem. Muffled snuffles made me giggle, but two slender digits slipping into my slippery pussy made me gasp with surprise. Whatever shame I still felt was soon swept aside by rising lust. This was not a leisurely poke on a lazy afternoon; Louisa was determined to frig me off in a hurry. My clit hardened. My nipples engorged. Tangy musk permeated the room.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 8)

Internally though, I was wracked with nervous doubt. Louisa — bless her deviant heart — had the perfect cure for my jitters. Ordering me to place my unshod foot upon the ticking, Ellie then supported my lower torso. My hems were lifted. Sinking to her knees, Louisa burrowed under my borrowed finery. The first touch of her calloused fingers on the backs of my thighs made me start. Ellie tightened her grip as my head lolled onto her shoulder. I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment when Louisa lowered first my drawers, then my girdled padding. “What are you doing? I’m ble—”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 7)

Nearly lost beneath a puffy mound of silk and lace, was Miss Frothinglips’ personal maid, Ellie. “My mistress sent me with this loan of a gown.” Any trepidation over her possible motive instantly turned to greed. In a trice, Louisa and Ellie had me trussed into stays — Miss Frothinglips’ sylphlike figure was several magnitudes thinner than mine — multiple petticoats and even silk stockings with frilly garters. With my hair piled high into an elaborate twist, the girl now staring wide-eyed in the mirror, bore only a passing resemblance to the orphaned waif of the prior week. “That’s me?” I marveled.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 6)

I paused to glare at her. There was no heat in my expression. Pouting in the small mirror, my voice was sulky. “I want him proud to be seen with me.” I spun back to face Louisa, pleading for her understanding. “A man of his social stature needs a helpmeet of impeccable grooming and manners.” Her response was a derisive snort of mocking laughter. “Will the introductions take place before or after he’s whipped and fucked you into submission?” I raised my hand. She was spared a good bare-bottomed beating over my knee by a timid knock on the door.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 5)

I was loath to ask for an advance, and the few shillings I brought with me to Peacock House wouldn’t even purchase a yard of ribbon, never mind fabric for a new frock. Louisa attempted to soothe my fret as I paced our room, oft-darned shift twitching with every impatient spin. “I don’t have anything to wear!” My plaintive wail was so unlike my normal disposition a part of me mockingly chided my immaturity. “Ruby, Mr. Jones-Smyth won’t give a fig about your attire. Look at me! Compared to you, I’m a drab hen in the shadow of your plumage.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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 Dastardly Dom sails the High Seas

This week for Wicked Wednesday, the prompt is ‘Pirates’. The title character comes from a conversation I had recently, in which the term, ‘Dastardly Dom’ came up in a cheeky way. 🙂

“Dominic?” Vittoria called out. “Are you almost ready?” She fussed in the mirror, adjusting her mask and tugging at her short — very short — hem. The length of leg exposed was disconcerting, but the party was not only for adults, but between a small group of friends exploring the ‘lifestyle’. She reached round and tugged the wedgie out of her crack. “I hate thongs,” she muttered, then carefully applied lip liner. “Dominic! We’re going to be late!”

Heavy tread clumped down the stairs. “What are doing weari…” Vittoria sucked in her breath as all the air seemingly vanished from the foyer. “Dominic?” she said with a soft squeak.

“You there, wench, fetch my cloak from yonder chest. The Dastardly Dom wishes to hoist the anchor.” As she gaped at her husband, he scowled and slapped his thick leather gauntlets across his palms. “Are thoust deaf, wench. Move your arse lest you feel the wrath of my scurvy temper on your backside!”

Vittoria quashed an incipient giggle at his attempted archaic pirate dialog, for she was feeling very light-headed and awed at his costume. She scurried to do his bidding, opening the closet door and blinking at the black wool cape that hadn’t been there in the morning. She felt the overwhelming urge to curtsy as she presented the garment to her pirate lord and master. They may have barely dipped their toes into role playing, but Vittoria felt extremely submissive already. She tipped over the edge when he barked his next command.

“Remember your place, slattern, is to please me…” he leaned closer and hissed, “or else.”

She bit her lip, not in fear or mirth, but because she was on the verge of throwing herself at his feet and begging to be ravished. “Yes, Sir. I understand.” She dared to glance at his stern face, gasping at the unbridled lust she saw in his eyes. Gabbling for something coherent to say, she stammered, “Doe-does m-my attire please The Dastardly Dom?”

He stroked his goatee, brows furrowed and impatiently motioned her to twirl. “Faster, and keep your arms outstretched.”

She shivered, feeling the cool air flowing over her bare cheeks and wet knickers as she spun.

“I am satisfied, very satisfied,” he purred, clear evidence tenting his tight trousers. “Except…” From beneath his scarlet cummerbund, he retrieved a short leather strap. “Thou art too pale in the posterior for my tastes. I prefer a red-bottomed lass in me bunk. Assume the position, the crew deserves a good showing of pirate law.”

As the strap rose and fell on her smarting buttocks, Vittoria thought, “I could get used to rum, sodomy and the lash.”

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

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 4)

After luncheon I changed my padding. Thankfully I was only lightly flowing and had only minor symptoms from the assortment of ailments the woman’s curse brought each double fortnight. I resolved not to mention my courses to Chester, unless his hands strayed toward my southern hemispheres. I fretted over what to wear — or not to wear. We only had two hours together. I didn’t want to be seen as a frivolous, vacuous female; but I cared about my appearance. My wages had yet to be paid for the first week: at month’s end thirty pieces of silver creased my palm.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, 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.

  • Corrupted

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

  • Ghosting Past Emily — part of the Corrupted anthology

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

  • Purchase: The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

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

  • The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

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

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

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

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

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

  • Purchase: The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

    Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie by clicking the picture.

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

  • Lust in Spring

    Click picture to go to Lust in Spring Amazon page

  • Lust in Spring anthology

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

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

  • Lust in Lace anthology

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

  • Paranormal Erotic Romance

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

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

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