Friday, January 31, 2014

The old strap in the hills: Tamed by the Highlander #SatSpanks

Oh, but this one was fun to write. Have a look at what Angus MacGregor says to Lady Elisabeth Grant, who has decided she wants to marry him.
"If we wed, Milady, you will belong to me. Your rank will be my rank, and your station will be this croft. I hold that a husband must have his way with his wife in his bed and in his house, and that if she refuses him his way, he must chastise her until she is ready to please him. You will card, and you will spin, and you will cook what I bring in to you, and when I call you to my bed, you will come, and I will have my way." 
Did she understand what he meant? How could he make himself plainer? He tried one last time. 
"And if you do not give me my way, Milady, I will chastise you, and my hand is not the worst thing I will apply to your bare backside."
Here's the blurb (buy the book here!):
When raiders fall upon Urquhart Castle, Elisabeth Grant, the daughter of the castle’s lord—a highlander by birth, but educated in the lowlands—is left defenseless when her cowardly father abandons her. At the last moment, her life and her maidenhead are saved from the raiders by Angus MacGregor, the proud highlander she had only hours earlier ordered locked in the pillory for his insolence toward her.  
Vowing that she will see her home rise from the ruins after the attack, Elisabeth resolves to stay as close to the castle as possible. With her father and his soldiers gone, however, she has nowhere to turn for protection except to the highlander who so recently rescued her. When Angus informs her that he has no interest in a ward or a servant, she impetuously offers to wed the uncouth, yet undeniably brave and handsome highlander whose firm words and strong arms both terrify and excite her.  
Angus agrees to marry Elisabeth on one condition: she will serve and obey him as a proper wife should, and if she fails in her duties, she will be soundly spanked. She agrees to his condition, but when she surrenders to his touch one moment and defies him the next, his desire for her only grows fiercer. Though it quickly becomes clear she will not yield without a fight—and a taste of his leather strap upon her bare bottom—he soon discovers she is like no woman he has ever known, as being chastised until she is writhing and begging only increases her lust for him.  
But when her father returns to rebuild the ruins of Urquhart even as the threat of another assault on the castle looms, Angus wonders whether Elisabeth will abandon him and return to the life of a noble lady. Even if she stays by his side, will their newly forged bond be shattered in the heat of battle, or will their love and courage be enough to withstand the swords of the marauders? 

Read all the Saturday Spankings!






A very scottish orgasm: Tamed by the Highlander

I adore my hero and heroine in Tamed by the Highlander: trying to write the beginning of their erotic life together in a style that felt authentic to the 16th Century was a marvelous challenge. The vocabulary had to be a little oblique, and feel old, but as I wrote it, it felt hot to me nevertheless.
The feeling of his yard pulsing inside her seemed to make Elisabeth wilder even than she had been. She cried out, loud, and her head threshed from side to side upon the mattress with pleasure she could not hide from him despite her shame. Angus felt her whole little body push with all its force against him, as if in one last attempt to throw him from his seat inside her cunt. 
To no avail, to be sure, because now, as he felt the last drops of a pleasure so extreme--indeed, so violent--that he felt his own frame must come apart, he would not let his little bride throw him by any means. Her struggles seemed only to heighten that cruel pleasure that he could never resist once he entered into it. But when she felt herself so thoroughly mastered, it seemed; when she knew past any doubt that Angus would no more let her go than he would fail to collar a straying sheep upon the hillside--then that tense body under his seemed to glow with heat, and Elisabeth gave a new kind of cry, one that Angus had never heard before. It sounded, he thought, though the thought seemed passing strange, like the cry of a highland eagle, circling high above the moors. Her eyes had been closed as he had deflowered her, and as he had fucked her harder and harder, but now they flew open, and Angus was absolutely sure that he could see love, and a desire as deep as the great loch, in them. Her arms reached up and twined themselves around his, and her hands gripped his shoulders convulsively, with a strength that surprised him greatly, as her back arched up and off the mattress, and then she fell back again, limp beneath him.
Here's the blurb (buy the book here!):
When raiders fall upon Urquhart Castle, Elisabeth Grant, the daughter of the castle’s lord—a highlander by birth, but educated in the lowlands—is left defenseless when her cowardly father abandons her. At the last moment, her life and her maidenhead are saved from the raiders by Angus MacGregor, the proud highlander she had only hours earlier ordered locked in the pillory for his insolence toward her.  
Vowing that she will see her home rise from the ruins after the attack, Elisabeth resolves to stay as close to the castle as possible. With her father and his soldiers gone, however, she has nowhere to turn for protection except to the highlander who so recently rescued her. When Angus informs her that he has no interest in a ward or a servant, she impetuously offers to wed the uncouth, yet undeniably brave and handsome highlander whose firm words and strong arms both terrify and excite her.  
Angus agrees to marry Elisabeth on one condition: she will serve and obey him as a proper wife should, and if she fails in her duties, she will be soundly spanked. She agrees to his condition, but when she surrenders to his touch one moment and defies him the next, his desire for her only grows fiercer. Though it quickly becomes clear she will not yield without a fight—and a taste of his leather strap upon her bare bottom—he soon discovers she is like no woman he has ever known, as being chastised until she is writhing and begging only increases her lust for him.  
But when her father returns to rebuild the ruins of Urquhart even as the threat of another assault on the castle looms, Angus wonders whether Elisabeth will abandon him and return to the life of a noble lady. Even if she stays by his side, will their newly forged bond be shattered in the heat of battle, or will their love and courage be enough to withstand the swords of the marauders? 

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Visual spanking stories analysis: the Houses of Parliament

(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)

What a paradox there is in the essential hotness of this photo! Has Westminster Palace ever looked so erotic?

In all seriousness, I think it's clear that the picture of "Shannon" would not be so arresting if the cab she were riding in were not within view of the ancient seat of British power. I think the fact that even Pauline Réage, in her character Sir Stephen, seems compelled to acknowledge that there is something special in the way of British dominance, shows us precisely why this image of a girl whose very slightly, and very wickedly, adorned nakedness has clearly been commanded to be displayed, shamefully, in a cab, captures my fancy. 


A girl in her lingerie in a cab outside Westminster Palace belongs to the Lord Chancellor, of course. The Lord Chancellor knows what to do with that sort of girl: she must be sent for a spanking. Who better to carry that spanking out than a Member of Parliament?

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: the Houses of Parliament

(See here for an explanation of this series and here for an index to it.)

Shannon couldn't bear to look at the MP to whom the Lord Chancellor had given her. But she complied with his command nevertheless, taking down the left shoulder strap of the lacy black bra.

"You are being punished," the Lord Chancellor had said. "John is well known as a very thorough spanker, and so I have asked him to take you to his discipline room in Southwark for the afternoon. You will wear the black set, under a long coat. As soon as you step into the cab, you will remove the coat, and John will tell you what to do from there."

"Look at you, you naughty girl," John Embers, MP, said. "In your wicked black things here in a resectable cab."

Shannon still couldn't look at him, but she felt her body responding as the elegantly dressed gentleman continued, "Shall I tell you what will happen to you when we reach my discipline room? You are going to climb the stairs dressed just as you are now, with me behind you so I can watch your backside move in those wonderful knickers. Then I am going to lead you to the spanking bench, and strap you to it.

"And then, I am afraid, it will be the cane for you. The Lord Chancellor was very specific on that point--he said that you require the strictest discipline, and I can see from the way you have shamelessly exposed yourself right here in front of me, in a cab, your legs spread to show me all your charms, that the Lord Chancellor, as in everything else, is correct in his judgment of your lewdness, and its need for chastisement."

(Image via the wonderful Carmelita F of the Nylon Stockings and Lingerie community on Google Plus.)

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

The dream of the men in the park

(The narrative thread, now exiguous, continues from here.)

This dream-story is one I made up after Charles and I had had to walk through a scary neighborhood late one night after an event in New York City.

I dreamt that I was out to dinner with my husband, and on the way home we were mugged by a gang of young men in the park. There were ten or twelve of them. They wore black pants and black shirts. They surrounded us.

One of them stepped forward, and looked at my husband. This mugger had a neatly trimmed black goatee and long hair, pulled back and tied into a precise, short ponytail. "Your wife is very beautiful," he said, in a surprisingly cultured voice.

My husband thrust me behind him, though now I was facing the men on the other side of the group. They looked at me with hungry faces. I was wearing a little black dress, and no coat, for it was a warm night. I hugged my arms around my chest, feeling terribly exposed.

"Yes," my husband said, "she is."

"Really," said the leader, "we're not common criminals--we've brought you here to make you an offer."

The dream got a bit confused, then--it wasn't my husband anymore, who was considering the gang's offer. Was it a policeman, who had come to help, but then been offered an enormous bribe to cuff me to a park bench and then go or stay as he liked? 

Instead of cuffing me, the policeman said, "No, it'll be more fun to hold her down--don't you think, men?"

The leader of the gang, who were now in business suits, took charge. "You're ours, slut, for the next few hours. You can get on your knees, or we can put you there." I looked to my police-husband, but he was merely observing, with a slight smile on his lips. The leader didn't give me any more time to decide, but put his hand behind my head and took hold of my auburn hair. "On your knees, slut," he said.

"Ow! Please!" I said--but really only because I felt like I had to protest, as I was pushed firmly down to my knees, there in the grass just next to the walk in the park.

Then, the sound that made my heart beat faster. Men unbuckling their belts: I didn't even know how many, because some were in the shadows. And then one of them, coming up behind me while my attention was fixed on the leader's strong hands, unbuckling his belt, put a blindfold over my eyes.

The leader--I thought it was he--put a hand behind my head again, and I could smell his sex in front of me. "Ah!" I said as I felt it brush against my nose.

"Be a good girl and open that pretty mouth now," I heard. At the same time, the one behind me--or maybe another one, raised the hem of my black dress.

"Look at that ass," he said--his voice was coarser than the leader's. "Such nice panties. It's going to be a shame to rip them off you."

I opened my mouth, to say, "No, wait," but at the same time I felt the one behind me put his hand in the waistband of the beautiful lace panties my husband had bought me the week before, and rip them off in a single violent gesture. I opened her mouth in a gasp, but the leader's huge manhood was in my mouth, now, while the one (or two? or three?) in back of me had their hands all over my ass, and between my thighs. My gasp became a gagging, wet moan.

The leader was either very generous, or very excited, for after five or six brutal thrusts into my mouth he held my head into his hips, and exploded down my throat, as I desperately tried to swallow. He let go of my head, and his place was taken by another man, with a smaller sex but a much more vigorous way of driving into my mouth. Meanwhile the ones behind me were urging my knees apart, and I could feel them against my thighs, ready to enjoy me from behind.

Meanwhile, more and more hands--and, now, mouths--found their way to the places on my body that burned the hottest. There was a warm mouth on each nipple, tugging and nibbling, and hands were running up and down the inside of my thighs. They had no interest, I realized, in making her feel good: they wanted to get me so hot that I would beg to be filled completely with them.

The one in my mouth decided he wanted to give me a pearl necklace, so he pulled out and took firm hold of my hair at the back of my head. Blindfolded, I couldn't see him, but I imagined what he looked like, the white fluid spurting, on my cheek, my neck, all over my beautiful black dress.

"Let's get that dress off her," said the leader. Someone in back pulled the dress off, over my head. I was naked except for my thigh-high stockings; naked in the park, being used by I didn't know how many men.

"Sam," said the leader, "you lie down on your back there. . . we're going to see what a slut she really is."

Part of me wanted to beg, but I thought of the men watching, of my husband watching, and my nerve failed me for a moment.

They weren't patient with me. They lifted me up, suddenly, and carried me a short distance. I knew Sam, whoever he was, was lying there, and I knew what was about to happen. "Wait. . . no. . . please. . ." I said, but now they were spreading my legs, and lowering me, my face towards the ground, and I felt Sam beneath me: he was a big, powerful man, I could feel, now. My hands touched his chest for a moment, but then someone else pulled them back behind me, and they were pushing me down, down onto him, and I had no choice but to receive him inside me, gasping at his massive size.

The leader was behind me; somehow I knew it was he, and that what he wanted was to be behind me, taking me this way. Suddenly, I was afraid of the fullness they were about to force on me, and I tried to struggle against them.

The leader laughed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but that backside is just too nice not to take; especially with you riding Sam like that." He gripped my hips, while others were holding my arms, and started to push in, at the same time a third took his station in front of my face.

Suddenly I realized I was close to an enormous climax. . . 

And then I woke up.

I should add, I suppose, that Charles spanked me for ending the story there.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Think of the kilts! The claymores! The big, big hands for spanking naughty lasses! Tamed by the Highlander is coming!

What more needs to be said, when I can put a picture of a man in a plaid here for your viewing pleasure? Here's a sneak peek:
"There are ranks, and there are stations--" 
"Ranks and stations, lass? I'll show you ranks and stations!" He took the hand he had around her shoulders and grabbed her around the waist. He dragged her back into the barn, looking about for what he very quickly saw: an unstacked hay-bale, ready to be broken up and used for fodder. He walked her briskly over there as she recovered from her initial shock at his man-handling and began to struggle and to say "Let me go! You have no right to touch me, man! I am the Lady of Urquhart!" 
"Aye, Lady of a ruin, now, girl. Count yourself lucky that you have a MacGregor here with you in this lonely barn, and not a MacDonald. If it were Ian MacDonald here with you, the spanking I'm going to give you would be the least of your worries."
Here's the blurb (buy the book here!):
When raiders fall upon Urquhart Castle, Elisabeth Grant, the daughter of the castle’s lord—a highlander by birth, but educated in the lowlands—is left defenseless when her cowardly father abandons her. At the last moment, her life and her maidenhead are saved from the raiders by Angus MacGregor, the proud highlander she had only hours earlier ordered locked in the pillory for his insolence toward her.  
Vowing that she will see her home rise from the ruins after the attack, Elisabeth resolves to stay as close to the castle as possible. With her father and his soldiers gone, however, she has nowhere to turn for protection except to the highlander who so recently rescued her. When Angus informs her that he has no interest in a ward or a servant, she impetuously offers to wed the uncouth, yet undeniably brave and handsome highlander whose firm words and strong arms both terrify and excite her.  
Angus agrees to marry Elisabeth on one condition: she will serve and obey him as a proper wife should, and if she fails in her duties, she will be soundly spanked. She agrees to his condition, but when she surrenders to his touch one moment and defies him the next, his desire for her only grows fiercer. Though it quickly becomes clear she will not yield without a fight—and a taste of his leather strap upon her bare bottom—he soon discovers she is like no woman he has ever known, as being chastised until she is writhing and begging only increases her lust for him.  
But when her father returns to rebuild the ruins of Urquhart even as the threat of another assault on the castle looms, Angus wonders whether Elisabeth will abandon him and return to the life of a noble lady. Even if she stays by his side, will their newly forged bond be shattered in the heat of battle, or will their love and courage be enough to withstand the swords of the marauders? 

Sunday, January 26, 2014

An author who can raise the temperature of any room: Maddie Taylor

Maddie Taylor's stuff is hot by just about any measure: her books--especially her new rockstar spanker Gideon's Redemption--are selling like, you know, hotcakes--but more importantly those books would be in serious danger of spontaneously self-combusting if they were on paper because of the heat of the spanking-and-sex scenes inside. Maddie's been incredibly kind to me as I've found my way in this wonderful community, and she's had me on her Wicked Wanton Wednesday series twice now--I'm thrilled to be returning the favor at least halfway and getting her answers to Emily's Questions. (I'm especially thrilled because those answers are so wonderful! Especially the desert-island one! Yum.)

Why do you write? 
I have been a voracious reader all my life. When the e-readers came along I thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. As I saw new authors popping up daily, self-publishing as easy as pie, I thought… I can do this. Inspired, I sat down and began writing my fantasy world of Club Decadence. First published in 3/2013, here I sit 10 months later promoting my 10th title.  
How did I do it while still working 9 to 5, you ask… 20% Insanity/80% Insomnia.  
What's your desert-island fantasy? (If you were marooned on a desert-island with only a single fantasy to get off to for the rest of your life, what would you choose?) 
Can I be stranded with Tony “Cap” Rossi from Captain My Captain??  Please!!!! Then we could role play Gilligan’s Island until my heart’s content. He’d be the professor and I’d be Maryann. My fantasy of course would be a bit bent and include bondage. The professor would morph into a muscular, sexy, alpha male closely resembling Jimmy Thomas (see Gideon for reference, yum!). Being the professor, he would be able to train me to make my own bondage ropes from the abundant natural resources. Once I had fashioned my own bonds, he would have me, spread eagled on a bed (hey, it’s my fantasy, we have furniture), tied over a bench or even bound to a palmetto. If he wants to add a blindfold or a well-placed swat, smack or thwap, who am I to say no? He’d ignore me anyway: "no" is not an acceptable safeword. Sigh… Did I mention my husband’s name is Jimmy? Seriously!
Do you think of BDSM and/or spankophilia as a practice or as an orientation, or as something else, and what does your answer mean to you? 
I think it is both. We all have different likes/dislikes, little quirks, twists or oddities. You may like chocolate cake for dessert and I might choose apple pie. We are all wired differently and as long as we are consenting adults and no one gets hurt (yes, this is subjective) I say, to each his own. It is not up to me to judge.
 Who's a favorite character from your own work, and why?  
I think I mentioned earlier that my fantasy stars Cap from Captain My Captain. He was my first hero and will always hold a special place in my heart. Plus, he is the template that all of my dominant males are patterned after, so there is a little bit of Cap in all of my heroes.
Who's a favorite character from someone else's work (erotic or non-erotic) and why?
I have to admit that after reading textbooks for half my life, I am a romance junky and read very little from other genres; I rarely read non-fiction unless it’s a good biography. I am a big Gone with the Wind fan so I would have to say my favorite male character is Rhett Butler. Despite his reputation as a rogue and opportunist, he actually possesses some very attractive character traits, the best of which is his devotion to Scarlett and his daughter Bonnie. He sees himself in Scarlett and as he waits for her to one day grow up; he is always there for her when she needs him. Of course, the tall, dark, handsome charmer has other things going for him as well. I just wish he had taken the opportunities presented to him and spanked her. It would have saved them both a lot of heartache.
And now the best part--a sizzling excerpt from Gideon's Redemption:
She paused and he could almost see the wheels turning as she considered his words. “You’re right. I still have a guilty conscience. Whatever you think I need is what I deserve.” 
“I will always give you what you need.” 
The next swat took her breath away, and the next. As well as the two dozen more that followed. Gideon didn’t enjoy punishment spankings at all, but he knew his girl’s guilt ran deep. If she had been the only one affected by her actions, she would have easily set it aside when forgiven. However, the impact had extended to Eli and himself, which increased her burden of shame and remorse. 
At some point, she began to cry. Poor girl, she’d learn to be more careful with what she asked for from him. Although he didn’t give her his worst, he made sure it was an effective punishment. Pausing halfway, her sobs and moans were accompanied by pleas for him to stop. By the end, she lay submissively across his lap, yielding to the inevitable knowledge that the spanks didn’t stop until he said so. 
“Okay, baby, we’re done.” 
“Will you hold me, Gid?” 
“Try to stop me.” 
She moved off his lap and instead, straddled his thighs. Her bare breasts grazed his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried out her pent up emotions. He held her close for a long time, until her sobs stopped and her breathing returned to normal. 
“Better, baby doll?" 
“Oh yes, Gid. You have no idea.” 
“I’m glad. But you are either going to have to move off my lap or take me inside you, babe. Your heat is too close to my cock for me to hold off another minute.” 
“Option B, please, sir. I want you inside me.”
Here's the blurb:
Shannon Hughes’ worst nightmare comes true when her rock star boyfriend, Gideon Eli, appears to be cheating on her. Upon learning that she is pregnant with Gideon’s baby, she hopes to salvage a friendship, but those hopes are quickly dashed after she receives from Gideon’s manager a check for $25,000 and a note telling her to move on and leave Gideon alone. Seeing no other choice, she starts out on her own as a heartbroken single mother. 
It is not until nine years later, when a chance encounter brings her together with Gideon once more, that Shannon learns the truth. She discovers that their split was based on a terrible misunderstanding, but worst of all, the situation was made possible by her lack of trust in Gideon. Resolved to make them a family after all, he promises that nothing will tear them apart again because things will be different this time. This time, he will be in charge. 
Her world is turned upside down when she begins her new life in Gideon’s plush Malibu beach house, and Shannon soon realizes that Gideon’s dominance is very real. That dominance includes the frequent baring of her bottom for a sound spanking, but even after he has spanked her hard and long and assured her that he forgives her, Shannon’s remorse for the nine years she spent away from him is almost too much for her to handle. Can Shannon forgive herself, move on, and begin to live a full and joyous life again, or will the scars of the past never heal?

And check out Maddie's wonderful blog! 

Friday, January 24, 2014

Spanking among The Sister-Wives of Prophettown #SatSpanks

I'm dialing the squick potential up to eleven to celebrate the release of The Sister-Wives of Prophettown, the second volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. Here's a slice of life from that strange pseudoreligious community where all men are dominants, all women are submissive, and everyone is over 18. NOTE: This is a FANTASY. I beg of you--don't read it if you're easily offended by, well, anything.
"Now, dear," replied the Matron, putting her hand gently on Syla's left breast and softly stroking the nipple, "This is the garment of a maiden who has pleased the Prophet greatly. You must not fuss." There was the barest hint of firmness in these last words. 
But Syla hesitated. 
The Matron sighed. "Dear, I don't want to have to use my paddle, but I will if I must." 
Syla's face showed ambivalence--she was clearly excited by the thought of wearing the thong--but not yet compliance, perhaps not sure that the Prophet wasn't trying to entrap her into immodesty. 
In a trice, the matron had the girl over her knee, and the paddle came down smartly six times, as Syla cried "Please, no! I. . . I'll put them on!"
Here's the blurb (buy the book here!):
After watching the first part of The Prophet's Way I couldn't bear it; I needed to see the rest, but it wasn't in my special drawer (which I wasn't even supposed to be looking in without permission, anyway; my heart quailed when I peeked in and caught sight of my paddle, with my name on it--involuntarily I moved my right hand to my bottom, and swallowed hard). 
The second volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the strange story of "my" discovering the existence of a pseudo-religious, polygmaous BDSM community, where all men are dominants and all women are submissives. Mf, MFf, anal, spanking, polygamy, ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. 
This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasies that you may wish to avoid: Mf, MFf, anal, spanking, polygamy, ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. All characters depicted are consenting adults. 
This book is the second volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily, Ravished by Porn; Emily's Sacred Porn; Emily and the Shameful Customs of Prophettown; Emily and the Sacred Submission of Prophettown; Emily and the Paradise-Step of Prophettown; Emily and the Lusts of Prophettown; Emily and the Training-Shed of Prophettown; Emily and the Forbidden Loves of Prophettown; Emily and the Sister-Wives of Prophettown; EXPLORATIONS: Books 6-10; EXPLORATIONS: Books 11-16; EXPLORATIONS: Part 1 (Books 1-16).
Read all the Saturday Spankings!






Prophettown: so wrong, and yet so very hot--The Sister-Wives of Prophettown

The pseudoreligious polygamous BDSM community of Prophettown is certainly my most out-there creation. Take a look:
"There's a DVD in your drawer," said Charles. "Put on your white thong--only the thong--and watch the DVD until I come home, please." 
I swallowed hard. 
"What's the DVD about?" I asked, frightened. 
"You'll see. Now do as I've said, Emily." 
The video was called The Prophet's Way: The Marriage Bed. It came across like an industrial training video, complete with what looked like stock footage of a small town and low-budget-sounding gospel-ish music. After a title sequence featuring a tall middle-aged man going through the services of a religious group that seemed to be called the Assembly of the Holy, it began with the man coming "backstage" to his office, and speaking to camera. 
"Hello! As you know, I am the Prophet Jonas, and I've directed that this series of videos be made to clear up for both men and their wives what a man's rights and a wife's duties are in their bridal chamber and their marriage bed, and what the special honors of assembly leadership are in the same area. So we've brought together a few of your questions, and we'll be answering them with the help of some of the wonderful--and, I must say, attractive--young people of Prophettown.  
"Now remember what our life in Prophettown involves, brothers and sisters. We're all over eighteen, and all you men are dominants, and all you gals are submissives. Our way of life is one of strict domestic discipline, in particular where fucking is concerned." 
"What the Hell?" I thought. 
Prophet Jonas continued, "The Book of the Prophet sets things up for us so that what we call 'families', with husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, are made up of people who aren't actually related by blood, because we raise our kids in a birth-groups--which are like what people in the regular world outside Prophettown call 'families'. When they turn eighteen. . ." (shot of two attractive teenage girls at their 18th birthday party, being sat down for a conversation with a paternal looking man) "they're told about how the grown-ups of Prophettown live, and they're asked if they want to leave right then. Some of them do. . ." (hugs at a train-station, waves as the train departs with one of the two teenagers) "but most of them stay, and learn the most important word of our lives together. . ." 
Cut to a classroom, where the eighteen-year-old who stayed sits with five or six others. There's a word on the blackboard, which they all then solemnly say. 
The word is "Pineapple." 
"What the fuck?" I said out loud.
The next volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS, The Sister-Wives of Prophettown, is out. Here's the blurb (buy the book here!):
After watching the first part of The Prophet's Way I couldn't bear it; I needed to see the rest, but it wasn't in my special drawer (which I wasn't even supposed to be looking in without permission, anyway; my heart quailed when I peeked in and caught sight of my paddle, with my name on it--involuntarily I moved my right hand to my bottom, and swallowed hard). 
The second volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the strange story of "my" discovering the existence of a pseudo-religious, polygmaous BDSM community, where all men are dominants and all women are submissives. Mf, MFf, anal, spanking, polygamy, ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. 
This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasies that you may wish to avoid: Mf, MFf, anal, spanking, polygamy, ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. All characters depicted are consenting adults. 
This book is the second volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily, Ravished by Porn; Emily's Sacred Porn; Emily and the Shameful Customs of Prophettown; Emily and the Sacred Submission of Prophettown; Emily and the Paradise-Step of Prophettown; Emily and the Lusts of Prophettown; Emily and the Training-Shed of Prophettown; Emily and the Forbidden Loves of Prophettown; Emily and the Sister-Wives of Prophettown; EXPLORATIONS: Books 6-10; EXPLORATIONS: Books 11-16; EXPLORATIONS: Part 1 (Books 1-16).

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Visual spanking stories analysis: the seatless ones

(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)

In a certain sense, this photo and its story continue the theme of last week's entry: the way that lingerie makes me feel more naked rather than less. Add in a mirror and I have one of those moments when I suddenly seem to be unable to keep my hands off myself, just because I caught a glimpse of a photo (in which a girl is of course catching a glimpse of herself).

At some point perhaps I'll start waxing loquacious about things like mise-en-scène and composition in the photos I choose to elaborate in this series. As of now, though, I still want to stick just with the essential hotnesses. She's over a table; she's looking in a mirror; what the mirror reveals is a piece of lingerie that has haunted my fantasies for years and years--the special panties that can only mean one thing: anal sex--anal sex that is somehow made all the dirtier by being performed not just with a girl's panties still on, but by means of panties specially designed to permit the act, and bestowed on the girl to remind her that the act lies inevitably in her future.

"Jennifer" (you know, really, Emily) has been told not to take her eyes off the way those panties make her available for the ultimate submission. Her gaze and mine sympathize, and I see myself in the panties, waiting for Charles, knowing that he has made me spend this time over the table because he takes pleasure in knowing that I know that my ass belongs to him, now and forever, and that whatever underwear I actually happen to be wearing, I am always, in my erotic heart, wearing the seatless ones.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: the seatless ones

(See here for an explanation of this series and here for an index to it.)

"You know the panties I mean, Jennifer. The seatless ones. The ones I bought for you and put out on the dresser this morning."

Jennifer blushed crimson.

"You're going to put them on under your dress, and go to the living-room, and get over the coffee-table. You're going to pull your dress up just enough so that when you look back at the mirror, you can see yourself in the panties, and think about what's going to happen when I get home. Then you're going to wait, just like that, until I arrive."

"Wh-what's going to happen then, Wes?"

"I think you mean 'Sir'."

Jennifer swallowed hard. "What's going to happen then, Sir?" she whispered into the phone.

"I'm going to spank you, for spending so much on the credit card. I'm going to spank you right on that delicious bottom of yours, so nicely exposed in those special panties. I'm going to use my hand, and then my belt. And then. . ."

"Yes, Sir?" Jennifer could barely breathe, thinking about it.

"Then I'm going to show you why I really bought those panties for you."

(Photo via Sir Dušan Dom of the wonderful Sensual BDSM community on Google Plus.)

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

The Muse of spanking fiction

(We are, in a certain sense, continuing from here.)

From the time we adopted our own special form of domestic discipline until the present, nothing much happened in our erotic lives that wouldn't be a re-tread of material you've already seen, faithful reader of this blog.

On the other hand, my creativity was nevertheless exercised very regularly in the several years between the birth of my first daughter, Chloe, and the day last March I decided to click "publish" on the first story of EXPLORATIONS. Most importantly, there were the myths and fairy-tales I would tell Charles after the children were in bed. From now until I run out of them, I'm going to share those with you.

Charles loves to re-tell stories from Greek myth, in his own words, as bedtime stories for our kids. It's appropriate that I start this new series with the story I told him one night after he had told the kids the story of Hesiod and the Muses, especially because, you know, the Muses. And one naughty Muse in particular.

Erato was wandering through the gardens of Helicon one day, when Apollo came up behind her. "Erato," he said, "Calliope told me that you were very naughty at the fountain this morning."

Erato blushed very prettily. "My lord, that was only because Calliope wouldn't let me drink!"

"She said you pulled her hair, sweet Muse."

Erato stamped her foot. "That was only because she was so mean to me." Now the Muses are of course thousands of years old, but they look almost exactly like schoolgirls, and they wear peploi (a peplos is an ancient Greek dress) that, strangely enough, resemble the sort of skirts worn by British pupils. Erato is golden blonde, and has two of the cutest pigtails you've ever seen, so when she stamped her foot, you can imagine that Lord Apollo was more interested than ever in baring her bottom for a godly spanking.

"Nevertheless, I am afraid I shall have to spank you, Erato."

"But, Lord Apollo! I am nearly grown a woman of 1800 years!"

"Indeed," the god replied, "is not today your 1800th birthday, making it possible to sell the story of your spanking on Eridanus dot com, as you are now a consenting adult?"

"Who says I consent to be spanked, my Lord Apollo?"

"You know well that our safeword is 'Priapus'. Are you going to say it?"

"And you know very well that anyone who says that safeword will be visited by Priapus himself later that evening. No, thank you."

"Then you must be spanked, mustn't you, Erato?"

Thus, though the tears stood in her eyes, Erato had to gather a bundle of laurel branches, as she thought of poor Daphne, who had been so frightened that she prayed to be turned into the laurel tree before she had ever known how pleasant it was to be one of Lord Apollo's girls--even if he spanked you, as he often did. She brought the branches to Apollo where he sat on a mossy bank near Mount Parnassus, and watched while he selected five of the best twigs, and bound them together with a linen band.

"Lay yourself over the punishment stone, now," said Apollo, his salacious intentions clear in his voice. Erato went to the old, old stone, covered in soft moss, where the Muses were always punished, whether by Apollo or by another god who happened to find fault with something they had inspired concerning a favorite hero. She lay herself down over it, and blushed as Lord Apollo raised her peplos to her waist.

"Spread those knees, little Muse," he said, for the ancient divinities knew that it was silly to try to pretend that one could discipline a bare bottom in any way that did not call young Eros to the scene. 

And, of course, when Erato did spread her thighs, Eros arrived on his light wings in a trice, and said, "Good day, Lord Apollo! Whose lovely rump is this? Wait, don't tell me! It's Erato again, isn't it?"

"Yes, you terrible boy," said Erato, her voice muffled by the moss.

"Well then," said the winged youth, "I declare that since this is your third spanking this week, you must be from henceforth the Muse of spanking fiction. What say you, Glorious Apollo?"

"I do ratify your decision!" said Lord Apollo, and began to birch the lovely bottom of the little Muse.

"And so do I," called Erato herself, panting with the amorous fire that always filled her when she was chastised.

Monday, January 20, 2014

"Not answering would be a mistake, where your bottom is concerned"--Geoffrey's Rules

One of the things I'm very proud of, where my new BDSM romance Geoffrey's Rules is concerned, is how well I feel I managed to walk the line between the BDSM and the romance, as I develop the characters along both those axes, showing how BDSM and romance interact with each other in their hearts. You'll be the judge of that, of course, though. I hope you like it.
I turned to look out the window, trying to make sure I couldn't see anyone I knew, and when I turned back, he was there, wearing a blue blazer over a white button down and tight (not indecently, but pretty close) jeans. His dark brown, slightly wavy hair was shorter than in the picture on the web, but it was the same man, and he looked even more intelligent in person. 
Also, in person, he looked just a tiny bit older, as well. Thirty? Thirty-five? For the first time in my entire life, I felt myself grow warm between my thighs at the mere sight of a man. It must have had a great deal to do with the strange prelude to this moment that I had already played with him--the moment at the café, the business-card, the email, (the self-pleasure). Honestly, though, it felt as if my arousal was simply in response to the thought that this gorgeous man had brought me here, with perhaps the tiniest hint of a notion that the reason he had brought me here was that he was going to spank me. 
"Chloe," he said, holding out his hand, "it's very nice to meet you." 
His voice was a rich baritone, almost in the bass-range. There was not the slightest indication that he had ever seen me doing anything disreputable. 
I reached my hand out, in response, and he took it inside his own very firmly but not painfully, gave it a very small, gentle shake, and released it. 
That was when I looked into his eyes for the first time, just as he was sitting down opposite me. They were gazing at me as if their owner had just seen a valuable object--a painting, or a sculpture--that he had heard a great deal about, and was now trying to decide for himself whether it really was as worth seeing he had heard it was. 
"It's nice--" 
"Did you follow Rule #1?" 
Had he really just interrupted me? I felt the blood rush to my face. I couldn't think at all for several moments. I found that I was looking down at my fork. With what felt like an enormous expenditure of will, I raised my eyes to his, and saw a look of amusement on his face, which made my blush grow hotter. 
"Are you going to answer, Chloe? Not answering would be a mistake, where your bottom is concerned."
Here's the blurb--buy the book at Amazon by clicking here
For as long as she can remember, Chloe has imagined what it would be like to be utterly and completely dominated by a man. When she meets Geoffrey—a man who can make her blush red with shame and quiver with lust at the same time with nothing more than a word or a glance—Chloe begins to wonder if her fantasy could become reality.  
As hot as her desire burns, though, Chloe struggles with herself. How can a modern woman feel this way? Should she not berate herself for longing to be taken over her man’s knee for a bare bottom spanking? No matter how she yearns for it, does she really belong on her knees at Geoffrey’s feet, naked and waiting for him to take her any way he pleases?  
When Geoffrey offers her what she knows deep down she has always wanted, will she turn him away, or will she submit to his rules and allow her new master to take her fully in hand? 

Sunday, January 19, 2014

An author who should not be humble: Renee Rose

It's a tremendous honor to welcome for this episode of "Emily's Questions" one of the very first, and very most generous friends I made when I started publishing my erotica last March. Words can't express my gratitude to Renee for her help and her advice. The excerpt Renee's chosen from Humbled, which is just wonderful, is one of my very favorite moments from the book, as well!

Thank you, Em, for having me on your blog today! You asked the thought-provoking question “Do you think of BDSM and/or spankophilia as a practice or as an orientation, or as something else, and what does your answer mean to you?”

I had never considered my spankophilia to be an orientation until I began to crawl out of the closet as a spanking romance author this past year. I had this fear previously, that I might get kicked off the PTA or whispered about behind my back. Then I realized I would never become a successful author if I can’t own up to what I write.
I was explaining my thoughts to a friend who happens to be gay, and he made the analogy to the Gay Pride movement. It truly changed the way I think of TTWD. It is an orientation, hard-wired into me since birth. It did not stem from a traumatic event, or a parenting style, or lack of Daddy love. No amount of squelching or hiding will make it go away. It is my guaranteed on-button for sex, whereas vanilla sex can be hit or miss. Though I used to try, I no longer believe it can be “cured” or ignored without damaging effects and I now find the notion that there’s something wrong with it to be offensive.

Thinking of it as an orientation, rather than a kink or fetish puts it in a “sex-positive” light. Similar to homosexuality, an estimated ten percent of the population has a D/s orientation as their sexual preference, yet it is consistently mocked in mainstream culture, the way homosexuality once was (and still is in some circles). I can only hope as I gain more confidence in waving my freak flag and writing about characters like me, others can shake off their own shame around their orientation.

I guess it would be safe to say Jean-Claude, the hero of my new French Revolution spanking romance has a similar orientation. Here’s an excerpt of a conversation he has with Corinne, the heroine:
“Jean-Claude?” Her voice crackled in the silent room. 
He rolled over to face her. “Yes?” 
“Did you spank your wife?” 
He remained silent so long she thought he would not answer. “Yes,” he said at last. 
“Forgive me, does it pain you?” 
“Yes. But it is also a relief to speak of her to you.” 
She wondered if the “to you” meant her, in particular, but did not have the courage to ask. 
“Why did you punish her?” 
Jean-Claude rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. “It was almost always over silver. We never had enough money, you know, and we had different ideas about what it should be spent on. She would purposely disobey my wishes, accepting I would whip her for it, and remain determined with her decision.” 
In the darkness, she thought she saw a rueful smile on his lips. “It was hard to be angry with her, she would confess so humbly and offer herself up for chastisement.” 
“You liked punishing her.” 
His eyes slid sideways. “I guess I did--most times. She was so terribly sweet about it and she rarely cried, no matter how hard I punished. She only cried if I was truly angry--she knew, I suppose--and then she would weep before I even began. Those punishments I never finished.”

She had pressed the fingers of one hand over her sex, but dared not move them. She burned with curiosity about their punishments--did he rub his wife’s bottom and touch her between her legs during them? Did he take her afterward? and how? Was it possible to take a woman in the position she had been in that evening, bent over his lap? Irrational envy for the dead woman smoldered in her chest for the great intimacy she must have had with her tender blacksmith. She fell asleep with her hand cupping her mons, discreet fingers pressing and releasing on her sex as if playing a pianoforte.
Buy Now on Amazon or Amazon UK! Here's the blurb:
Sentenced to die at age eleven for stealing a pig, Jean-Claude receives an unexpected reprieve when a young aristocrat girl takes the blame instead. When the mobs of the French Revolution fall upon her château years later, Jean-Claude knows he must save her and repay his debt, but as they begin their long flight to safety he makes it clear he is not her servant and he will deal firmly with any disobedience. Though he initially intends to send her off by ship, the beautiful, feisty Corinne inspires a fierce protectiveness in Jean-Claude that makes it hard to say goodbye.

Corinne is alternately infuriated and attracted to the handsome peasant who has no qualms about turning her over his knee and spanking her bare bottom when she steps out of line. When he ends up joining her on a ship to New Orleans, their futures become inextricably intertwined, but can a common-born blacksmith and the daughter of a lord find enough common ground to make a permanent match?
And here's Renee's amazing bio: 
Renee Rose is a contemporary dance teacher,Feldenkrais Practitioner(R), energy worker and kinkster. Named Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, her books are all centered around her favorite kink: spanking. 
A lifelong writer, she has a B.A. in creative writing from Knox College, where she won the Davenport prize for both fiction and poetry, and the Lorraine Smith prize for literary criticism. She spent thirteen years in technical writing before she found a way to incorporate her deepest darkest spanking fantasies into fiction and express a part of her that longed to see the light. She is now passionate about supporting others in accepting and exploring their kink, whatever that may be. Please visit her blog and join the conversation! 
Check her out on: 

Friday, January 17, 2014

Ready for the cane: Geoffrey's Rules #SatSpanks

I think I'll go with the maximum D/s level here, to introduce Saturday Spankings friends to the kind of dynamic that lies at the core of my new book Geoffrey's Rules.
"Over my lap now, girl," he said, and he pulled me about, into position. I bent over his legs. It felt much more intimate on the sofa, where I could lie across him, and not feel that I was upended quite so much. 
"You have a very long punishment coming, Chloe," he said. "You broke Rule Four, and you were late, a violation of Rule One. You used the word I told you not to use four times, and you have said all sorts of naughty words, besides. After I warm your bottom with my hand, we are going to go upstairs to my bedroom, and you are going to be caned upon my bed."  
"Oh, Geoffrey, please, I don't think I'm ready for that." 
"You're ready for what I say you're ready for, sweetheart." 
Here's the blurb (buy the book here!): 
For as long as she can remember, Chloe has imagined what it would be like to be utterly and completely dominated by a man. When she meets Geoffrey—a man who can make her blush red with shame and quiver with lust at the same time with nothing more than a word or a glance—Chloe begins to wonder if her fantasy could become reality.  
As hot as her desire burns, though, Chloe struggles with herself. How can a modern woman feel this way? Should she not berate herself for longing to be taken over her man’s knee for a bare bottom spanking? No matter how she yearns for it, does she really belong on her knees at Geoffrey’s feet, naked and waiting for him to take her any way he pleases?  
When Geoffrey offers her what she knows deep down she has always wanted, will she turn him away, or will she submit to his rules and allow her new master to take her fully in hand?  
Read all the Saturday Spankings!






Caught self-pleasuring and taken in hand: Geoffrey's Rules

The idea for Geoffrey's Rules came from reflecting, as I was brainstorming possible plots, on the way I used to feel when I was in graduate school, when I had entirely too much unstructured time on my hands in the library. I might as well confess that I was guilty several times of the "offense" that gets my narrator-heroine into trouble.
I gritted my mental teeth and read a sentence about the significance of Proust to the birth of the modern. Goddammit, why had I read Maud's Master for an hour with my hand up my nightgown that morning instead of getting up and starting to read what I should have been reading? 
And why, thinking about it here in the café, did I want nothing more than to get up, go to the bathroom, lower my jeans. . .  
Ah, Hell. I only had ten minutes, so I grabbed my bag before I went in there. As soon as the door was closed I dropped my bag and turned to the mirror. Chestnut hair to my shoulders, angular face, no make-up around my hazel eyes. Currently wearing a jeans jacket over a long-sleeve blue T-shirt on top. Down below, I was lowering my jeans quickly, to rest around my thighs, the white cotton panties atop them. With my left hand I raised the front of the T-shirt. 
Why did I always whimper when I saw myself--my self, I always thought, the me between my legs--in the mirror? What the Hell was wrong with me? Why did I always pretend that the hand (my own hand) that began to stir the soft hair between my thighs was a guy's hand--no, really, not just a guy's hand but the hand of a guy like Jeff the spanking security guard? And now, now he wanted more. He wanted more, and he wanted it immediately: the fingers pushed, invaded, I gasped, said "No! Please!" I closed my eyes. 
The door, which I had apparently in my haste neglected to lock, opened. My life changed, for as it turned out I had found a very serviceable way to be naughty. 
My life didn't change immediately, though, for all I heard from the other side of the door was a man's voice saying "Whoops! Sorry!" 
I waited, my heart beating wildly, for a full minute, hoping desperately that I wouldn't be seen exiting, and above all that there would be no men outside the door. With a flushed face and an inability to raise my eyes from the floor, I emerged, having judged the angles in the bathroom and realized that if he had been looking straight ahead as he entered, he would absolutely have seen me in the mirror, with my fingers buried deep between my thighs and a look of wild erotic abandon on my face--he might even have heard me say "No! Please!" 
I tried to shuffle out, but a female barista called "Hey! The guy who was here wanted me to give you this." I turned, to see that she was holding out a business card. 
Geoffrey King

Digital Media Consultant 
It said, on the front, with phone number, email, and URL. I turned it over, and my blush returned instantly. In block letters written in ink, it said, "You were naughty. It appears to me that you need discipline. If you are interested, let me know."
Here's the blurb (buy the book here!): 
For as long as she can remember, Chloe has imagined what it would be like to be utterly and completely dominated by a man. When she meets Geoffrey—a man who can make her blush red with shame and quiver with lust at the same time with nothing more than a word or a glance—Chloe begins to wonder if her fantasy could become reality.  
As hot as her desire burns, though, Chloe struggles with herself. How can a modern woman feel this way? Should she not berate herself for longing to be taken over her man’s knee for a bare bottom spanking? No matter how she yearns for it, does she really belong on her knees at Geoffrey’s feet, naked and waiting for him to take her any way he pleases?  
When Geoffrey offers her what she knows deep down she has always wanted, will she turn him away, or will she submit to his rules and allow her new master to take her fully in hand? 

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Visual spanking stories analysis: breakfast

(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)

I think my little analysis with respect to this unexpected, wonderful photo should be a kind of paean to the erotic humiliation inherent in nakedness. Why should there be anything humiliating about making breakfast (or whatever "Jennifer" is doing here) in lingerie? I'm not sure I know the answer, but whatever it is must be key to what makes BDSM work for me, and maybe for others.

I've written several times about why lingerie has the effect it does; my take is that it actually makes me more naked than I would be were I actually nude--not naked in the exact sense of the word, where it's of course a synonym for "nude," but naked in the Garden of Eden "Who toldest thee that thou wast naked?" sense: when Adam and Eve were just nude, they didn't care, because, well, everyone was nude. It was only when the Knowledge of Good and Evil came to them--knowledge that comes from the hitherto hidden perspective of others--and they realized that in the eyes of someone else, whether God or the serpent, they were not covering parts that needed covering, that they became ashamed, and made the very first lingerie, out of fig-leaves.

The point of lingerie is that it has no functional purpose beyond the erotic realm (humans did without panties for many thousands of years; I'm also obviously not talking about sports bras). When the principal flow of one's libido is along the lines of dominance-and-submission, and the erotic realm is always about some degree of power-exchange, the moment of shame is the same as the moment of lingerie, if we can call it that: Who told me that I was naked? Charles, when he gave me a lace thong to wear.

So, when you work the lingerie up all the way, as it is worked up in "Jennifer's" lovely outfit here, and then you add the element of traditional feminine subservience in the kitchen--as ethically repugnant as it is--you get smoking hotness. And, as you know by now about me, smoking hotness always needs a spanking.

(Photo via the marvelous Magdy Love, of the wonderful Nylon Stockings & Lingerie community on Google Plus.)

(If you like these analyses, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)

(Geoffrey's Rules [Mf BDSM romance] is available at Amazon!)