(We're continuing from here. I had just told Charles that I thought needed his firm hand to guide me, and he had looked me as if I were crazy.)
I took his hand. We were sitting side by side, that French way. "Well, let's say that I'm not talking about household finances." I brought his hand down between my thighs, under my skirt, where it was now very warm.
Charles positively giggled--or at least as close to it as guys can get. "I take it," he said, wiggling his fingers a bit so that I sighed contentedly, "this is something that lies outside the realm of the dungeon and the rocking-horse?"
"Exactly," I said. "I feel like I need to be taken in hand." I couldn't help it; I cracked a smile at that point, then tried to wipe it off my face and look serious and needy and feminine.
But Charles had noticed, and he was laughing.
"Stop it!" I said. "This is serious. I need to feel your firm hand, guiding me and correcting me."
That made him laugh harder. "I can't help it. . ." he gasped. I waited patiently for his mirth to subside a bit. Finally he said, "OK, so I'm guessing you're not taking back EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER SAID about domestic discipline, right? About how you can't imagine ever living that way?"
Now I pouted. "No, not everything."
At my pout, he stopped laughing. "Alright. I understand that pregnancy does weird things."
"Fuck you."
"Alright, there's my wife, anyway. Explain, please."
So I told him about my fears about our sex life, and about my body, and how I didn't want to mourn, but rather to celebrate a new phase of our lives.
"And you think DD is a way to do that, somehow?"
"Well, not real DD, I guess. But it gives a structure, you know--the way training gave us a structure. Or maybe it does. I guess I think it's worth a try."
"Absolutely," he said. "I'm in. How do we got about it?"
"I think we should start slowly," I said. "I want you to enforce a bedtime. Pregnant women need their sleep."
"Hmm. Yes, they do."
And that was how it started. That night, of course, I refused, theatrically, to be put to bed at 8pm, and got the spanking I was craving above everything else. Charles was a little bit tentative about his formulations of uxorial authority, but he showed tremendous promise, I thought.
From bedtime we proceeded to diet. The part about the regime that I found the most surprising is how much I actually liked being told what to eat and how to take care of myself. Really, it was rather dangerous how womanly--in an erotic sense--it did in fact make me feel.
"Sweetie?" I asked one night, about halfway through my second trimester, when I had resolutely started to show, but wasn't yet uncomfortable. We were long home from France by then, and in that holding pattern you do, where you're circling the hospital like a 747 slowly running out of fuel, waiting for the inevitable emergency-landing. "Do you think if our positions were reversed. . . "
"It's hard to see how that kind of reversal would. . . configure itself--but I think I know what you're talking about. Would I want to have someone telling me what to do? I think about that at lot, actually, and I think that the answer is Yes."
"Really?" I said eagerly.
"Think about guys getting out of the army--or even out of prison. People like to be told what to do, no matter how much they pretend otherwise."
"Now I feel bad that you don't get to feel that way, because you have to figure out what to tell me to do!"
"Not so fast! Two things: one, I also like to tell you what to do, and have you do it; two, I like to spank you. Plus, you told me to tell you what to do, and I liked that."
I giggled, and kissed him. I don't think I'd ever felt so womanly, and I loved it, and hated myself for loving it.
"Do you ever like to feel womanly?" I asked, half-joking. To my surprise, he got the look in his eyes that's a sort of facial equivalent to when he says "Um."
That was the first night we ever switched. Since that time, we've done it perhaps twice a year. As on that first night, we always set it up as Charles giving me the kinkiest possible command, in order to demean me as much as possible--the command to dominate him. It works for me. We didn't have a strap-on harness that first night (we've since gotten one) so I pegged him with one of his own dildos while kneeling next to him on the bed. I'd like to think that our DD arrangement was the only one in history to produce that kind of scene, but who knows?
(If you like these stories, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)
(Caroline's Rocking Horse [Mf, ageplay, anal] and The Count's Discipline [medieval, spanking, anal] are available at Amazon!)
I venture to say that's a phrase you never expected! What can genealogy and spanking have to do with one another? The answer is in my fun new medieval spanker (I think I may have coined "spanker"--it's like "oater," the word for a Western that's admissible in Scrabble. . .).
The Count's Discipline begins with a little section in which I write as myself, and talk about how I "found" the chronicle that makes up most of the book. It's even true of my "actual" self that I get obsessed and lose hours and hours to trying to fill in the little gaps in my family history in the medieval period. I'm from an old New England family on one side, and that means--mostly because of the snobbery of the 19th-century Bostonians--that I have documented links to the royal houses of Medieval Europe (unless of course, as is very possible and has been proven in several cases, some of the amateur genealogists of the 19th century forged those links!).
I'm really not exaggerating, then, about how it's changed my view of the medieval period, when I open The Count's Discipline thus:
I go through periods during which I'm obsessed with genealogy and family-history, the further back the better. It's given me a great deal of pleasure over the years to reach far back into the past and to touch the life of for example a 28th great-grandfather who conquered England. 1066 never meant much to me until I realized that the guy who so rudely did the conquering, William the Bastard, was my grandpa plus 28.
Most of the sources I find while doing this kind of work are pretty dry. Late one night clicking through some newly digitized records, however, I found a document about an obscure ancestor of mine that, thanks to my classical training, I was able immediately to recognize was quite different.
First I noticed that the narrator seemed to be using the Latin word for "ass" or "bottom" a lot. The first time I ran across the Latin phrase that I realized had to mean "spank" I knew I had something really special. And then I hit the first sex-scene, where an unsuspecting young count Robert gets a blow-job (seriously!) from his more experienced countess.
I don't think I've ever been quite as diligent in my Latin translation as when, with one hand on my keyboard and the other, um, elsewhere, I rendered the scene where the count has all the women of Beaumont-sur-Louen stripped naked and spanked in the market square.
And I'm not even telling you about the incredible (and incredibly hot) love story between the narrator and the count. I don't want to spoil it--but I promise you, if you push through all the medieval stuff at the beginning, you're not going to be disappointed!
So I present the first part of the document here, translated and in certain respects modernized. From time to time I intrude, to offer such annotations as I hope may be helpful. I hope you get as much pleasure as I have from
The Private History of Robert de Lourcy, Comte de Gassein, and of his so-called "monstrous" practices of discipline
as written and gathered by a chronicler appointed by him, Sophia by name, born in Rouen nineteen years before Duke William's conquest of England
Here's the blurb! Buy the book by clicking here!
When Robert de Lourcy’s wife spurns his desire to spank her, the young count contents himself with disciplining other women of the court, until a rash decision to chastise the women of a captured castle arouses the ire of the local bishop and Robert is forced to seek absolution. In an act of penance, he visits a cathedral and stumbles upon a young girl named Sophia who has been set upon by robbers. Remembering his promise make amends for his sins, Robert takes pity on the destitute child, placing her in a convent so that she may be properly educated.
When Sophia comes of age, the nuns at the convent grow more firm with her. The young woman is simultaneously drawn to their discipline but also unconvinced that their motivations are particularly noble. After Sophia’s education is complete, Robert brings her into his household to serve as his secretary. Though he has decided never again to spank another woman, when Sophia begs him to chastise her as the nuns did he cannot resist the opportunity to take her over his knee.
The two begin a happy relationship based on Sophia’s acceptance of the count’s discipline, but he remains devoted to his wife until she dies tragically in childbirth. After that sad event, Sophia expects the count to marry another noblewoman, but will that new wife be jealous and send her away? Is she doomed to be cast back onto the streets from whence she came, or will Robert break the shackles of society and wed a commoner?
Publisher’s Note: The Count’s Discipline is an erotic novel that includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Also note that this book is written with a unique style: the story is told through a modern woman who has discovered an account of the life of Robert de Lourcy which was written by his secretary and chronicler, Sophia.
(If you happen to be interested in the genealogical side of things, there are a great many resources available these days--I'd be happy to point you in some helpful directions!)
In The Count's Discipline, Sophia, the narrator-heroine, is constantly provoked by Countess Richildis' ladies-in-waiting. One of the most important moments of the story comes when Sophia loses her temper and is overheard calling Lady Agnes, "vile trash."
I knew what I must do: I kissed the rod, even as another sob came from me at the thought of what must now befall my bottom.
The rod was removed; I closed my eyes. I heard the count move into position at my left, felt him lay his left hand upon the strap that held me at my waist.
"Sophia, for this fault of conduct, you are to have thirty-six blows of the rod."
"No, my lord," I cried. "Oh, please, please, no."
He told me, later, that he felt that the only way that there would be any hope of keeping the peace was for him to beat me so severely that there was no doubt at all that he had done as Lady Richildis had asked. At that same time, he begged my pardon a thousand times that despite his love for me he nevertheless enjoyed beating me so much that he several times nearly forgot himself.
Here's the blurb! Click here to buy the book at Amazon.
When Robert de Lourcy’s wife spurns his desire to spank her, the young count contents himself with disciplining other women of the court, until a rash decision to chastise the women of a captured castle arouses the ire of the local bishop and Robert is forced to seek absolution. In an act of penance, he visits a cathedral and stumbles upon a young girl named Sophia who has been set upon by robbers. Remembering his promise make amends for his sins, Robert takes pity on the destitute child, placing her in a convent so that she may be properly educated.
When Sophia comes of age, the nuns at the convent grow more firm with her. The young woman is simultaneously drawn to their discipline but also unconvinced that their motivations are particularly noble. After Sophia’s education is complete, Robert brings her into his household to serve as his secretary. Though he has decided to never spank another woman again, when Sophia begs him to chastise her as the nuns did he cannot resist the opportunity to take her over his knee.
The two begin a happy relationship based on Sophia’s acceptance of the count’s discipline, but he remains devoted to his wife until she dies tragically in childbirth. After that sad event, Sophia expects the count to marry another noblewoman, but will that new wife be jealous and send her away? Is she doomed to be cast back onto the streets from whence she came, or will Robert break the shackles of society and wed a commoner?
Publisher’s Note: The Count’s Discipline is an erotic novel that includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Also note that this book is written with a unique style: the story is told through a modern woman who has discovered an account of the life of Robert de Lourcy which was written by his secretary and chronicler, Sophia.
Read all the Saturday Spankings!
The vicissitudes of the publishing world meant that I released two books, Caroline's Rocking Horse and The Count's Discipline, within a week of one another. Ostensibly, though both are spanking books, they lie in completely different sub-genres: ageplay and historical respectively.
Releasing them so close together, though, has made me think about the similarities in my two narrator-heroines: Sophia, orphan daughter of a prostitute in the 11th Century, and Caroline, privileged academic in the 21st. One similarity came immediately to mind, of course: they both long to submit to men who seem not just protective and dominant, but also wise and kind.
Here's how it is for Sophia, who begs Count Robert, renowned for spanking all the women of a captured castle, to spank her, too:
"My lord, I beg of you. Please show me that I have come into your service in very fact. I have dishonored you with my ingratitude and my resentment of your bringing me to Lourcy."
"That is not at all what I have heard of your conduct, Sophia."
"I have not shown it. I know I have not. But I shall. Such things I wish to say to Lady Agnes, and to Lady Ermengilde, and even to your lady wife. Such things as should make the devil carry me away to his burning lake. Save me, my lord! I beg of you: chastise me with your loving hand and I know I shall be better able to keep my serpent's whore-tongue inside my mouth." I began to weep.
"Sophia of Rouen! Never call yourself a whore!" He strode around his table, and towards me, and suddenly he was holding me firmly by the shoulders. But I could not look at him, and I struggled as I wept. "Sophia, listen to me." His voice was a low growl, now, like the snarl of a faithful dog who knows he must protect his flock in face of wolves. This wolf was the idea of my non-existence, but it was nonetheless a wolf: it wanted to devour me, and Robert stood squarely in its path.
I still struggled. I felt that I was ten again, and now at last I was going to escape back into the streets of Rouen, to flee from this terrible world into which the count had, with his awful mercy, seduced me. I would be nothing again, and I wished to be nothing.
But suddenly the count's left arm was around my waist, and he was bending down for some reason, and his right hand was lifting my gown and my chemise together, whose hems he was gathering into his left hand at my waist.
And then Robert the Monster, Count of Gassein, spanked me, with his open hand, for the very first time. I knew from the moment I heard the sharp sound, and felt the sting, that I had been reclaimed, but now my mind echoed his own words: at what cost?
And here's how it is for Caroline, realizing that her husband George can be the fantasy Daddy for whom she has longed, and whom she has imagined so many times as she pleasured herself--in which act he has just caught her:
"I'm going to raise your nightgown now, Caroline," he said. "Girls who have played with their panties down must learn to take their punishment with their panties down."
I couldn't help it; I moaned. There was something about the direction his performance was going that made me think things were about to get even hotter. A paternal note was creeping into his words.
"Caroline," he said, "you should be ashamed of yourself. What is that wanton sound I just heard from you?" He raised the hem of my nightgown and placed it on the small of my back, laying open before him my panty-clad bottom. "Little girls in flowered cotton panties should not make that kind of sound, should they?"
Then it happened. Without forethought, I said, "No, Daddy."
There was a long silence. Then George said in a thick voice, "Daddies sometimes have to spank their little girls don't they?"
"Yes, Daddy," I replied.
We were through the looking glass. I waited with commingled trepidation and arousal for his next command. Surely my new daddy would know what to do next.
Also, they both masturbate a lot, I suppose, and like to be punished for it. I can't think where they get that particular trait.
(This "analysis" concerns yesterday's story. Rather than go through such details as Santa, the tree, the present, the flying hair, and, of course above all the panties with that tiny hint of diaper-ishness I always seem get when there's tie at the waist, I decided to give an alternate version. I hope you enjoy it, and the rest of your Christmastide!)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through my place
the straps and the canes slept by thongs of white lace.
The paddle was hung by the chimney in state
In hope that my hubby wouldn't be late.
Then down to the parlor I went on tiptoe,
To the tree where I knew I must never go
Before morning came, on pain of a spanking
I'd get if I opened my gifts without thanking.
But nevertheless the big present I'd seized
when a voice from behind me filled me with un-ease:
"Young lady," it said, "you had better stop that.
You made hubby a promise and you'd better not brat."
He sat on a stool by the tree in his suit
and he patted his lap like an ornery coot,
though his manner was kind and his pants oh so soft.
I cried out "Please don't take my nice panties off."
"Never fear," said Saint Nick, "it's not that kind of story,"
and he began to give spanks 'til my rear was a glory
of heat and of crimson: my loins were afire
for hubby's return to his bed. Nor did tire
the firm-spanking hand of the saint until sobbing
I said "Don't you need, Santa Dom, to be lobbing
some gifts down some chimneys all over the world?"
Then he set me afoot and he gave me a hug,
and he sprang up the chimney like some agile bug,
with a shout as he sped towards the sky in great pride:
"You'll remember what I gave your naughty backside!"
(Photo via Casey McKay, from the Busy Bee blog of Cari Bee. Thanks, Casey!)
(If you like these stories, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)
(Caroline's Rocking Horse [Mf, ageplay, anal] and The Count's Discipline [medieval, spanking, anal] are available at Amazon!)
(See here for an explanation of this series and here for an index to it.)
Ella crept downstairs. It was only 1am, but she had been checking every fifteen minutes to see if her husband had put her present under the tree yet, before he left for his night-shift at the hospital. He had made her promise to wait until he was back in the morning to open it, but she wasn't going to take it out of its box--she just wanted to see what it was.
Yes. It was there! A big white box with a red bow. She hurried over to the bushy green spruce with the pretty red bow-and-bulb ornaments, and sank quickly to her knees. She started to untie the red ribbon.
"Young lady," came a deep voice behind her, startling her half to death. She didn't even think to drop the ribbons, as she turned around and saw. . . white beard, check. . . red suit, check. . . jolly old elf--well, old elf, check; jolly, not very.
"Young lady, I believe you made your husband a promise."
"Um. . . I. . ."
"Did you or didn't you?"
Ella felt her face crumple. "Yes, Santa, I did. I'm so sorry."
"He and I made a deal tonight: he's going to put out the presents at the hospital, and I brought your present here. Do you think he deserves to have you breaking your promise while he's out working?"
"No, Santa." A tear rolled down Ella's face.
"What do you think would happen if he saw you himself?"
"Oh, no," she said, picturing it.
"He would spank you, wouldn't he? Don't lie, or you'll be on the naughty list next year!"
"Yes, Santa."
"Then since he and I have our bargain tonight, I believe I need to teach you your lesson."
Santa brought the little stool over to the tree, and sat upon it, looking decidely jollier. He patted his lap, and Ella, still holding the ribbons of the forbidden present, went over it.
"You'll tell your husband in the morning that you need a spanking, but you don't have to tell him why. I think it will brighten his day, especially if you're as delighted by your gift as I think you will be, Ella."
Santa flipped up the little green skirt to reveal scandalously configured underwear. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," he said, as he began to administer the sort of sound spanking that only he can give. "Sometimes naughty and nice are the same, aren't they?"
(Photo via Casey McKay, from the Busy Bee blog of Cari Bee. Thanks, Casey!)
(If you like these stories, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)
(We're continuing from here. As I approached this post, I worried that it might be diapers for Christmas Eve, but, just in time, our story entered a sweeter phase. Happy holidays to all my readers!)
There were a few other little things Charles incorporated into my corporal training over the first period of our marriage, but the most important thing that happened next was the sudden development of a new phase in the regime.
I got pregnant.
I don't think I've laid out exactly the chronology of the writing of the first versions of the books I'm now publishing as EXPLORATIONS. It's probably as good a time as any to do so, because what might be called the first stage was about to come to an end. I was 27, and everything in the series through book 30 now had an initial version. I started writing them in June of 2002, when I was 25. There was the wedding-night and honeymoon stuff, that summer and Fall. Winter and Spring (when I turned 26) were for Prophettown. That summer I wrote about "Sarah," but by Fall I had finally moved on to the Victorian stuff, which obsessed me until the following spring--say, April of 2004, our second anniversary. None of the stories were integrated yet; it would be years before I came up with the crazy linking narrative.
It's a little hard to verify, because we were trying hard and frequently, but I think that Chloe (as I'll call her) was conceived the night we played Victorian bridal chamber: I like to think that as our zygotes met, I was saying, "Yes, Sir, that was very nice; you may do that to me whenever you like," after my proper bridegroom had, to my initial (feigned Victorian) shame and horror, arranged me upon my knees, then bent me down until my face was against the counterpane, and entered me forcefully from behind
At any rate, when we realized I was pregnant, we decided to take the trip to Europe we'd been putting off, and had a lovely time especially in Normandy, where I wrote sketches of what would become the Rouen parts of fantasy-Emily's story. More importantly, it was on that trip that we cooked up a sort of substitute for the training regime that we both had enjoyed so much, but which we knew we weren't going to get to enjoy with the same frequency when our post-baby lives began. Not that we didn't have some wonderful times in the dungeon during my first trimester pregnant with Chloe, but I knew the end was coming and I didn't really want to feel like that part of our lives was gone forever. Above all, I didn't want us to feel that BDSM was something we had done when we were young.
I was reasonably sure that Charles wasn't lying when he said that he felt the same way I did about BDSM--namely, that it was an essential part of our identities--but, of course, never having been through such an enormous transition in my life, and having heard about what had happened to the sex lives of friends under the strain of child-bearing and -rearing (I mean, for one, I'm an intelligent enough girl that I knew that certain parts of my anatomy [certain parts in which Charles took a great deal of delight, and with which I took pride in being able to make him feel such delight] were never going to be the same again), I have to admit to having felt some alarm.
I had been reading about domestic discipline, and I decided I wanted to try to hammer out a unique BDSM version of it, for us, that would allow us at least to keep in touch with the amazing erotic life we'd known from 2002-2004. At dinner in Paris, one night towards the end of our trip, I said, "Sir, I think I should tell you that I've been feeling very. . . womanly, lately."
Charles gave me an odd look, but he didn't catch on--nor was it at all likely that he would, I knew, for a while, since DD was not something he ever mentioned, or, as far as I could tell, thought about. "That's natural, I suppose, with all the hormones, right?"
"Well, yes. But. . ."
The odd look again--he knew me well enough to gather that there was something BDSM going on in my brain.
"But what, sweetie? You know you can tell me anything."
He had the patronizing tone absolutely down, and it was just what I needed (and, sue me, I was getting moist, which meant of course that I knew I was on the right track, at least as far as my own erotic satisfaction was concerned).
"But this feeling is. . . well, it's more about wanting. . . um, guidance."
I saw my husband's eyes practically bug out of his head.
"You're joking, right?"
TO BE CONTINUED
(If you like these stories, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)
(Caroline's Rocking Horse [Mf, ageplay, anal] and The Count's Discipline [medieval, spanking, anal] are available at Amazon!)
(Please vote for the best spanking books of the year, over at the wonderful Spanking Romance Reviews! Note that I wouldn't object if you voted for The First Notebook in the historical category!)
One of my favorite moments in The Count's Discipline is the first spanking Count Robert ever administers, which he bestows upon his new wife's handmaid Marguerite after the countess herself has refused to accept his chastening hand:
As Robert began to practice, for the first time, the disciplinary art for which he would one day be more famous than he would have wished, upon the young bottom of Marguerite, the girl's sobs were transformed into a low panting. Robert had always imagined what a bare female bottom under his corrective hand might feel like; the sensation surpassed his fondest dreams.
Marguerite, who had been saying, "Oh, please, sir. . . it hurts. . . please, stop. . . your lady wife. . .," was now saying only "My lord. . . my lord. . . ."
Here's the blurb (click here to buy the book at Amazon!):
When Robert de Lourcy’s wife spurns his desire to spank her, the young count contents himself with disciplining other women of the court, until a rash decision to chastise the women of a captured castle arouses the ire of the local bishop and Robert is forced to seek absolution. In an act of penance, he visits a cathedral and stumbles upon a young girl named Sophia who has 0been set upon by robbers. Remembering his promise make amends for his sins, Robet takes pity on the destitute child, placing her in a convent so that she may be properly educated.
When Sophia comes of age, the nuns at the convent grow more firm with her. The young woman is simultaneously drawn to their discipline but also unconvinced that their motivations are particularly noble. After Sophia’s education is complete, Robert brings her into his home to serve as his secretary. Though he has decided to never spank another woman again, when Sophia begs him to chastise her as the nuns did he cannot resist the opportunity to take her over his knee.
The two begin a happy relationship based on Sophia’s acceptance of the count’s discipline, but he remains devoted to his wife until she dies tragically in childbirth. After that sad event, Sophia expects the count to marry another noblewoman, but will that new wife be jealous and send her away? Is she doomed to be cast back onto the streets from whence she came, or will Robert break the shackles of society and wed a commoner?
Publisher’s Note: The Count’s Discipline is an erotic novel that includes spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Also note that this book is written with a unique style. The story is told through a modern woman who has discovered an account of the life of Robert de Lourcy which was written by his secretary and chronicler, Sophia.
I'm thrilled to introduce the third "real book" I wrote, after those friends encouraged me at the end of the summer. This one is dear to my heart because it began in an attempt to imagine myself into the shoes of my medieval ancestors. I have a 28th great-grand-uncle named Robert de Bellême, who by all accounts was a really nasty guy. Moreover, he was clearly an early BDSM aficionado, in an age long before Safe, Sane, and Consensual.
What, I asked myself, if he had really been a spanko?
The moment when the legend of Robert the Monster, 5th Count of Gassein was born came at the very start of that long afternoon in the market square of Beaumont-sur-Louen, with the exemplary punishment of the baroness and her sisters, who claimed descent from Charlemagne and Merovech. Robert, still in his armor, strode straight up to her backside and, giving his gauntlets to his squire, began to stroke it. Well I know that knowledgeable exploration! His hand was never lewd when the occasion was not a lewd one, but always didactic, carrying in the count's fingertips this lesson, above all: "Now you will be chastised, and is it not a shameful thing that you should be thus punished upon your bare rump?"
The book comes out tomorrow--here's the blurb!
When Robert de Lourcy’s wife spurns his desire to spank her, the young count contents himself with disciplining other women of the court, until a rash decision to chastise the women of a captured castle arouses the ire of the local bishop and Robert is forced to seek absolution. In an act of penance, he visits a cathedral and stumbles upon a young girl named Sophia who has been set upon by robbers. Remembering his promise make amends for his sins, Robet takes pity on the destitute child, placing her in a convent so that she may be properly educated.
When Sophia comes of age, the nuns at the convent grow more firm with her. The young woman is simultaneously drawn to their discipline but also unconvinced that their motivations are particularly noble. After Sophia’s education is complete, Robert brings her into his household to serve as his secretary. Though he has decided to never spank another woman again, when Sophia begs him to chastise her as the nuns did he cannot resist the opportunity to take her over his knee.
The two begin a happy relationship based on Sophia’s acceptance of the count’s discipline, but he remains devoted to his wife until she dies tragically in childbirth. After that sad event, Sophia expects the count to marry another noblewoman, but will that new wife be jealous and send her away? Is she doomed to be cast back onto the streets from whence she came, or will Robert break the shackles of society and wed a commoner?
Publisher’s Note: The Count’s Discipline is an erotic novel that includes spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Also note that this book is written with a unique style: the story is told through a modern woman who has discovered an account of the life of Robert de Lourcy which was written by his secretary and chronicler, Sophia.
Warning: this snippet contains intense ageplay.
Yes, it's sin against Hoffman and Tchaikovsky. But it was so fun to write. I've always imagined that when Clara is dreaming about her nutcracker-prince, she changes into a grown-up, with very grown-up desires.
. . . No one could hear the things that George was saying to me under his breath all the way through the ballet, and during the intermission, and during the lovely dinner we had afterwards. He said terrible things about Clara and her Nutcracker-Prince: about what he thought the prince wanted to do to Clara, and how she would have to let him do whatever he wanted to her, or else he wouldn't bring her back home.
My Daddy described in minute detail what had happened in the gondola of the balloon, when it was out of view of the audience: how the prince had raised Clara's little dress and ripped open her little drawers, unable to wait for a more civilized occasion to enjoy his little paramour. How Clara cried out when she felt the prince entering her; how above the clouds he had tasted her young sex, and had given her a blissful feeling she had never imagined.
When we returned to the hotel, I was so aroused that I was having great difficulty maintaining the appearance of a modest little girl. I wanted to grab my husband and enjoy him myself, in gratitude for his delicious torment of me. Indeed I went so far as to take his hand, which I knew was now an action forbidden to me, since it was a sign of forwardness. He growled, "Young lady," in such a menacing tone that I gave up the idea at once, dropped his hand and folded my hands in front of me with my eyes downcast.
(It's what I'm sure you can guess comes next that makes it a good snippet for Saturday Spankings: think dress up, panties down, in an elevator.)
The blurb (buy the book here!):
Caroline Dawkins is a professor of English who has never confessed her age-play and spanking fantasies to her husband, George Lane, a corporate attorney. After George comes home one night and finds Caroline pleasuring herself, over the course of an extraordinary month Caroline and George utterly transform their erotic life together in the pattern of those taboo fantasies.
From the lovely, degrading preparation and inspection of Caroline's charms, to the dark erotic practices she never thought she would get to try, George and Caroline taste the forbidden delights of age-play and connect emotionally as they never imagined they could.
Read all the Saturday Spankings!
One of my favorite moments from my new ageplay release, Caroline's Rocking Horse, is when Caroline, who's convinced herself that her husband George was only pretending to be into ageplay the first time they did it, realizes that he actually is the fantasy-partner of whom she's always dreamed. Would that we all could be so lucky!
"You can forget about that act, George. I know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to work."
That made him furious, I could see, in turn. Really furious? Or acting furious? Shit, I realized, he was never that good an actor, was he? My reason was beginning to wonder if maybe it shouldn't have been so hasty.
"Call. Me. Daddy," he said, quietly, precisely, and with the air of one who is about to put his hand around your throat.
I felt my eyes go wide and my heart start to pound wildly.
"Daddy," I whispered.
He began to come towards me. As he did so, he actually began to slap the belt in his right hand across the palm of his left to emphasize his words. The gesture did nothing for my sangfroid.
Caroline Dawkins is a professor of English who has never confessed her age-play and spanking fantasies to her husband, George Lane, a corporate attorney. After George comes home one night and finds Caroline pleasuring herself, over the course of an extraordinary month Caroline and George utterly transform their erotic life together in the pattern of those taboo fantasies.
From the lovely, degrading preparation and inspection of Caroline's charms, to the dark erotic practices she never thought she would get to try, George and Caroline taste the forbidden delights of age-play and connect emotionally as they never imagined they could.
(Please vote for the best spanking books of the year, over at the wonderful Spanking Romance Reviews! Note that I wouldn't object if you voted for The First Notebook in the historical category!)
(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)
Her hands over her backside. That moment is so wonderfully submissive, isn't it? It says that the girl being chastised is indeed being chastised: her master has inflicted the intended discomfort in the area where such discomforts are best inflicted. More, the chastisement is severe enough that she can't help putting her hands back there, to shield, to rub the sting away.
And yet, her master will continue her chastisement: she should have no doubt as to that fact. She will receive every stroke her master cares to deliver, and she may well receive one extra for every time she puts her hands back.
Also starring the wonderful stiff strap that could well reach back a century, in the master's hands; his magisterial academic gown; the bottles on the side table; her lowered panties; and above all her eyes open, looking somewhere, submissively acknowledging that whatever she is looking at is there, and she is here, over her master's desk, being punished.
Many thanks to Chris Watson, my Google Plus friend, for the suggestion, and for the offer to take over my chastisement from Charles as a substitute teacher! Goodness knows Charles has to do a great deal of it, and would probably welcome the break.
(See here for an explanation of this series and here for an index to it.)
Mr. Wetherall's strap was very old. It had been passed down from Latin master to Latin master for at least a hundred years, along with the injunction that it was to be used upon the bare bottoms of the most recalcitrant girls.
Sarah Jane Truitt had confused the ablative with the dative daily for the past month, and Mr. Wetherall was at his wits' end. "Miss Truitt," he said at last one morning, "you will see me in my study after the lesson."
Her tears were of no avail. Only one pupil in her memory had been punished with Mr. Wetherall's strap, and that girl had slept on her stomach for a week, and eaten standing up. "I'm so sorry, sir. I. . . please. . . agricolae from the farmer, agricolā to the farmer. . . I can do it, I promise!"
"You have just repeated your mistake, Miss Truitt. Ab agricolā, from the farmer. dō librum agricolae, I give the book to the farmer." He looked into her terror-filled eyes. "Lay yourself over my desk, now. You won't forget after the beating you're going to get, I'm confident."
Sarah Jane laid herself down. Mr. Wetherall raised her skirt, and then, as she blushed in shame and fear, lowered her knickers to leave her lovely young bottom bare.
"You will count each stroke, Miss Truitt," he said. Even before her beating began, she tried to cover her bottom with her hands. "Get those hands away, girl," Mr. Wetherall said. "If I see them there again, it'll be an extra stroke."
Sarah Jane rested her cheek on the wood of the Latin master's desk, and looked out the window to where the other girls were enjoying their recess. Mr. Wetherall brought the strap down hard upon her bottom, and she cried out and, despite herself, put her hands back to try to ward off her chastisement.
"One extra," said Mr. Wetherall, with grim satisfaction.
(Photo via Keith solley, at the request of Chris Watson. Thanks, Chris!)
(If you like these stories, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)
(Caroline's Rocking Horse [Mf, ageplay, anal, rocking horse] is out at Amazon!)
(Please vote for the best spanking books of the year, over at the wonderful Spanking Romance Reviews! Note that I wouldn't object if you voted for The First Notebook in the historical category!)
(We're continuing from here with more of this specialized kind of ageplay. For more general ageplay purposes, it might be worth checking out Caroline's Rocking Horse, which comes out tomorrow!).
I can't honestly say that I didn't smile in triumph as I went upstairs, without pulling my jeans up, just because it felt so marvelous to have them around my thighs because my daddy had put them there, to get a lovely cloth diaper from my secret stash.
OK, I know that it's perverted by any standard, old-fashioned measurement. Wearing a diaper and nothing else, though. . . I'm not sure I wouldn't choose it as my desert-island kink. I mean, as long as you assured me I'd get spanked, little-girl style, for any infractions I committed while wearing it.
I'm sure Charles was expecting I would be right back to tell him I'd wet the diaper, but he didn't yet quite understand, as far as I could tell. I wanted to fight it, to think about how I was just big enough to know that I should try to hold my pee in. I didn't want to be toilet-trained--not yet--but I did want to be a big girl, and so the conflict within me was very real.
In the end, I went to him, wearing only the diaper. He looked expectantly at me. I said, "Daddy, I think I'm going to. . ." and I did, right in front of him. The eroticism of the feeling of release was so great that I had to put a hand out to steady myself against his bookshelf, and I poised myself there for a moment, with my eyes closed, just feeling myself pee into my diaper.
I heard him approaching with rapid steps, and he had me around the waist, and he was pulling me towards him, against his chest, and I felt his hand on my bottom, and I cried out as if he had caned me. "Shh," he said, "such a bad girl." But I knew he meant good girl.
He spanked me, as we stood there--being spanked in a wet cloth diaper is an absolutely unique feeling: it doesn't hurt; it doesn't even really sting, but it feels so very, very naughty that you want it to stop and want it go on forever. He spanked me five times, and then he turned me around, like a little girl, and gave me one more spank on my bottom, the way Captain von Trapp does to Marta in The Sound of Music, and said "Get upstairs to your room, and lie on your bed. I'll be there to change you in a moment."
The changing is, I think, the whole point. To have one's diaper changed goes beyond the wonderful unveiling moment of, for instance, having one's panties pulled down, whether for a spanking or for anything else your daddy wants to do with you. Not only does the person changing your diaper assert his right to uncover your nakedness for your own good (and also for his convenience--and pleasure, should he choose to use you that way), but he also returns you to a state of ultimate vulnerability, in which state his assertion of his right to keep you dry, and warm, and safe, feels like a kind of transformation--if only for a little while--of your entire life into something that glows with love, that has meaning: an existence unfortunately utterly dissimilar to what real life feels like for grown-ups.
When your daddy decides that he wants to fuck your little-girl pussy, after taking off your wet diaper, and wiping your private parts clean, or even your little-girl bottom, the fact that he was the one to take off the diaper, for the purpose of changing you to make you more comfortable, makes that very grown-up activity into a sort of initiation into the ways of daddies that feels both terribly, thrillingly naughty and warmly, lovingly affectionate. Even when, as Charles did that afternoon, your daddy becomes a little severe with you, and seems to care more about his own rough pleasure than about yours--or even about your comfort--, your daddy's assertion of his authority feels lovely because you can tell that your body is making him feel so good he can't help himself, but must use you roughly.
All the above under the lovely triskelion of paradox, for me at least. Above all, that relationship can only exist when you trust your daddy completely. I absolutely have to feel, when my husband is, say, riding my backside like a farmer, hobbledy-hoy hobbledy-hoy, that he is going to cuddle me afterward, and tell me that I'm a good girl. Otherwise, everything that's such an unbelievable turn-on when I trust him would instantly become an atrocity.
(If you like this kind of story, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)
This post records a landmark in my career, such as it is, as Emily Tilton, BDSM erotica and spanking romance author. I want to get it right, so I need to start with a little bit of explanation.
When, last March, I decided I wanted to see if anyone else out there were interested in the written elaborations of my spanking and BDSM fantasies I had been drafting off and on for many years, I decided on self-publishing the EXPLORATIONS series because I didn't think I had any stories that might interest a publisher. But as I became part of the endlessly wonderful community of erotica authors, and of the very special sub-community of spanking fiction authors, I began to see that some of my fellow authors were doing great work within the genre lines of spanking romance and BDSM romance. I also started to realize that my own EXPLORATIONS, while containing things that lie well outside those lines, were nevertheless in their own way not really very distant from the genres practiced by the writers I was coming to admire.
Then three wonderful colleagues, each in her own way, made it clear to me that I could write things that the presses wanted, and that to do so would not only widen my visibility, but also let me communicate to engaged readers some of the more abstract things (what I think BDSM means, for example) I've been trying to work out in EXPLORATIONS. Those colleagues are (in order of my conversations about this topic with them) Anastasia Vitsky, Thianna D, and Renee Rose, and I am endlessly grateful to them for their advice over the last few months as I tested the waters of what I can't help but think of as "real books."
The first book I wrote won't appear for a few months yet. It's part of the hush-hush Corbin's Bend project, and I love it, and will keep teasing it until it appears. It's called Sarah's Tutorial.
The second book I wrote is coming out Wednesday, and you see its amazing cover here courtesy of the marvelous folks at Blushing Books. I'm incredibly proud to be publishing my first "real book" with them, because way back ten years ago, when the first thought of trying to publish my erotica crossed my mind, I remember looking at the BB site and thinking "Maybe someday."
It's called Caroline's Rocking Horse, and it's about an English Professor who finally gets to live out her ageplay fantasies. There's probably no better snippet to start with than the very beginning:
My new rocking-horse was very beautiful. It was stained a lovely chestnut brown, and its mane seemed perhaps to be made from real horse-hair. Looking at it, gratitude to George for indulging me so very thoroughly swelled inside my chest.
My new rocking-horse looked very sturdy, and it had adjustable stirrups that a grown wife like me could use to find the best possible position in which to ride.
Finding the best possible position was going to be essential, because of the part of the new rocking-horse that made the little girl inside me blush crimson as I looked at it: the leather phallus that stuck up from its back like a naughty sentinel, slightly bent as if to beckon me towards it.
"Daddy?" I said.
"Yes, sweetheart?" my husband asked.
"Do I have to ride my rocking-horse right now?"
"Yes, sweetheart, you do. Daddy wants to see you on it."
Here's the blurb! Buy the book at Amazon!
Caroline Dawkins is a professor of English who has never confessed her age-play and spanking fantasies to her husband, George Lane, a corporate attorney. After George comes home one night and finds Caroline pleasuring herself, over the course of an extraordinary month Caroline and George utterly transform their erotic life together in the pattern of those taboo fantasies.
From the lovely, degrading preparation and inspection of Caroline's charms, to the dark erotic practices she never thought she would get to try, George and Caroline taste the forbidden delights of age-play and connect emotionally as they never imagined they could.
I suppose the final thing to say, beyond reiterating my gratitude to my new friends who already seem like such old ones, and to Bethany and Jim Burke of BB, is that I consider these "real books" still to be explorations, and so also, I guess, EXPLORATIONS. Although the characters in them have no explicit relationship to Emily Tilton Smith, I'll tell you a secret: They're all me.
(Please vote for the best spanking books of the year, over at the wonderful Spanking Romance Reviews! Note that I wouldn't object if you voted for The First Notebook in the historical category!)
(Please vote for the best spanking books of the year, over at the wonderful Spanking Romance Reviews! Note that I wouldn't object if you voted for The First Notebook in the historical category!)
This snippet continues from the excerpt I posted yesterday, but also does fine on its own. Fantasy-Charles and fantasy-I are playing Greek myths: as Perseus, Charles has just commanded "my" mother Cassiopeia to tell me what my naughty part is called, and Cassiopeia has called him cruel.
"I say that I probably am cruel, but that I have a gorgon's head in my wallet, so she had better do as I ask."
"Unh mmmmm hmm, so. . . s--so what does she d. . . do?"
"She says that that place is your cunt, Andromeda. Where do you feel strange?"
"In. . .in mm--mmmmy c--cunt. . . oh, gods. . . oh!"
Perseus gave me a hard spank on both cheeks of my naked bottom. "You are very wicked, princess! If I asked your parents whether you have been caught polluting yourself and abridging a bridegroom's rights, what would they say?"
Blurb 'n' buy!
As he waited for Emily to emerge from the bathroom, Charles Smith contemplated the night, and the week, ahead. He had anticipated this moment for so many weeks, in mingled expectation of her resisting his dark desires and perhaps-not-unfounded hope that she might welcome them, that he now felt the need for some reflection as to just how to bring her around to do the things he had so long fantasized requiring of her.
The first volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the story of the BDSM wedding-night and honeymoon I always wanted, from shamefully pleasuring myself in the bathroom of the honeymoon-suite to paying a terrible price for that pleasure at the hands of my husband Charles. Mf, ff, anal, spanking.
This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, anal, caning, spanking. It's intended for over-18 audiences who, like me, are interested in exploring the lines between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, and fantasy and reality. All characters depicted are consenting adults.
This book is the first volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night; Emily's First Submission; Emily's First Spanking; Emily's Second Submission; Emily's Dark Gift; Emily's First Caning; Emily's Little Trainer; Emily, Ravished by Porn; EXPLORATIONS: Books 1-5; and EXPLORATIONS: Part 1 (Books 1-16).
Read all the Saturday Spankings!
It's very hard for an author to choose a favorite section of one of her books, especially when the book is as personal as The Bride's Ordeal, so I'll just say that the Perseus and Andromeda fantasy I'm sharing today and tomorrow is definitely one of them.
I, Andromeda, buried my face in my outstretched left shoulder, and pretended to try to break free of my bonds. "Oh, please. . ."
Perseus began to soothe his slave-princess' fears, with slippery fingers from behind, along her shaven cunt. I, Andromeda, moaned with a prolonged, wanton fervor.
"Oh, gods, what is this feeling in my. . . in my. . ."
"In your what, your highness?" Perseus asked, slyly.
"In my sh--shameful place. . ."
"Queen Cassiopeia," said Perseus loudly, "your daughter says she has a warm feeling in her shameful place. Would you please tell her what a wife learns to call that place? She'll need to know, if she is to escape whipping in my house, for I will require her to say it often, while I am enjoying her."
The blurb! Click to buy!
As he waited for Emily to emerge from the bathroom, Charles Smith contemplated the night, and the week, ahead. He had anticipated this moment for so many weeks, in mingled expectation of her resisting his dark desires and perhaps-not-unfounded hope that she might welcome them, that he now felt the need for some reflection as to just how to bring her around to do the things he had so long fantasized requiring of her.
The first volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the story of the BDSM wedding-night and honeymoon I always wanted, from shamefully pleasuring myself in the bathroom of the honeymoon-suite to paying a terrible price for that pleasure at the hands of my husband Charles. Mf, ff, anal, spanking.
This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, anal, caning, spanking. It's intended for over-18 audiences who, like me, are interested in exploring the lines between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, and fantasy and reality. All characters depicted are consenting adults.
This book is the first volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night; Emily's First Submission; Emily's First Spanking; Emily's Second Submission; Emily's Dark Gift; Emily's First Caning; Emily's Little Trainer; Emily, Ravished by Porn; EXPLORATIONS: Books 1-5; and EXPLORATIONS: Part 1 (Books 1-16).
