Edmund surveys his bride's charms at last #SatSpanks

I hope it's no secret that I like wedding-nights.

Edmund’s hands moved from the backs of my thighs to their fronts, and then. . . then, for the first time, my lord touched the private lace of my bridal garment; with his right thumb, he traced its outline. I could not help it (and I cannot help how tiresome that phrase becomes!): I groaned with the pleasure. 

“Oh, Sir, I am sorry.” 

“Sorry? Why, my lovely bride?” Now he had the tips of the first two fingers of his left hand at the spot where the lace always slipped into the tender cleft. 

“Ohhh, Sir, please. . . I am sorry; you know my secret now; the cane cannot cure me, I am so wanton. A bridegroom deserves a modest bride.” 

“You are modest, indeed, Emily; else you would not be ashamed of the mischief I work.”

Here's the blurb, and you can click to buy the book. How convenient!

When the door of the coach had been closed by the footman, and I had waved out the window to my receding family, and then sat back, looking down at my hands, folded in my lap, I began to weep, very softly, with the sheer excess of emotion. Edmund reached over and took my hand in his. I turned my head to look into his eyes, and to my great surprise found them kindly.  

“I realize,” my husband said, “dear Emily, that I won your body with my cheque-book. It is now my fondest hope that I might win your heart with my affection. You are the loveliest creature I ever saw.” With his right fore-finger he lifted my chin, gently; he bent his head, and our lips met for the first time. His kiss was tender, but somehow commanding, too, and it made me shiver. “Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world today.”  

Despite myself (for you will not be surprised to hear that I had decided he was a monster, and had not been dissuaded from that view by his pleasing demeanor all that day), I was touched by his words, which seemed sincere. Given the utter invisibility of the great drama from the conventional world to one who is not party to the different reality beneath, it had not seemed strange that Edmund would be perfectly pleasant in his address when my family were present; but now, I had supposed, the next scene of the drama was to begin. I will confess that a part of me was impatient. “Why then have you degraded me in this manner?”  

In this notebook, imagined as passed down to me from my great-great-grandmother, Emily Orn continues her initiation into a great drama of BDSM in Victorian England. Under the stern instruction now of her bridegroom, Emily at last learns what it means to serve his pleasure.  

NOTE: This book comprises material previously published in the following books: Emily's Fitting; Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber; Emily, Bedded; Emily's Shameful Ride; Emily's Return to Smith's; Emily's Victorian Honeymoon; Emily's Victorian Wedding Trip; and EXPLORATIONS: Books 25-28. I here present them as a continuous story and without the intrusion of the modern narrative of my fantasy-narrative, for readers who might be more interested in this Victorian material.  

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, Ff, spanking, mild watersports. 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.  

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

Getting married in the original lace thong: The Second Notebook

Confession time: the entirety of Victorian Emily's story is an elaboration of a day-dream I had about a Victorian bride told that her husband required that she wear a lace thong on her wedding night. I called the lace thong an "aide-mari" (husband-helper) and ran with it, a long, long way.

You will perhaps note that this was the first time I had had to walk while wearing the aide-mari. Everyone loves a bright-eyed young bride, I think, and I assure you that my eyes were bright on my wedding day; they could not have been otherwise, such was the agony of the garment my bridegroom had imposed to remind me to whom my virtue now belonged. I took small steps, because that lessened the pain somewhat; but also because the aide-mari, even when covered by crinolines and corset, makes one feel that one’s charms are terribly exposed to view, and that only a small step will prevent one’s most intimate secrets from being revealed; finally, and perhaps most importantly, because the aide-mari was designed with an ingenious quality to which only one who has walked in the garment can attest: the narrowing of the lace front panel at its base, when properly fitted, occurs at precisely the point where its remaining outside the bridal virtue is always in question; at every step the lace threatens to work its way into the bride’s untried furrow, or the wife’s virtue. Small steps barely manage to keep the narrow inward-urging lace at bay; a single large step allows the lace immediate and sudden entry, at which the wearer almost invariably gasps, and must excuse herself to the powder-room; if she is, on the other hand, at the altar, in the middle of her wedding-vows, she must bear the unique sensation, and find a means of concentrating on those vows rather than the excruciating, lewd sensation in her loins. This entire effect is greatly magnified, you can understand, when the aide-mari has been tightly fitted, as mine had been.

Here's the blurb, and you can click to buy the book. How convenient!

When the door of the coach had been closed by the footman, and I had waved out the window to my receding family, and then sat back, looking down at my hands, folded in my lap, I began to weep, very softly, with the sheer excess of emotion. Edmund reached over and took my hand in his. I turned my head to look into his eyes, and to my great surprise found them kindly.  

“I realize,” my husband said, “dear Emily, that I won your body with my cheque-book. It is now my fondest hope that I might win your heart with my affection. You are the loveliest creature I ever saw.” With his right fore-finger he lifted my chin, gently; he bent his head, and our lips met for the first time. His kiss was tender, but somehow commanding, too, and it made me shiver. “Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world today.”  

Despite myself (for you will not be surprised to hear that I had decided he was a monster, and had not been dissuaded from that view by his pleasing demeanor all that day), I was touched by his words, which seemed sincere. Given the utter invisibility of the great drama from the conventional world to one who is not party to the different reality beneath, it had not seemed strange that Edmund would be perfectly pleasant in his address when my family were present; but now, I had supposed, the next scene of the drama was to begin. I will confess that a part of me was impatient. “Why then have you degraded me in this manner?”  

In this notebook, imagined as passed down to me from my great-great-grandmother, Emily Orn continues her initiation into a great drama of BDSM in Victorian England. Under the stern instruction now of her bridegroom, Emily at last learns what it means to serve his pleasure.  

NOTE: This book comprises material previously published in the following books: Emily's Fitting; Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber; Emily, Bedded; Emily's Shameful Ride; Emily's Return to Smith's; Emily's Victorian Honeymoon; Emily's Victorian Wedding Trip; and EXPLORATIONS: Books 25-28. I here present them as a continuous story and without the intrusion of the modern narrative of my fantasy-narrative, for readers who might be more interested in this Victorian material.  

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, Ff, spanking, mild watersports. 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. 

Visual spanking stories analysis: chair

(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)

Emily Tilton here with your weekly thermeme analysis.

• Position, position, position. Made to lay oneself over the back of a chair; made to assume the specified position: any arrangement of the body that makes the backside prominent and is clearly imposed by a figure in authority will generally get my heart pumping.
• The wifely underwear. Lace is best, but wife-ish knickers that ride up in a humiliating fashion, exposed for chastisement--especially when they go together with this lovely 70's domestic scene--that's hot, too.
• The 70's. Not really a very hot decade, but when a guy in corduroy decides enough is enough and he's going to get back his rights by means of his cane--I'll listen to some head-disco for that.
• The cane. Tradition, in a world (the 70's) gone to glam rock and casual sex.
• The very slight tent in his corduroy. Because a man should always enjoy caning his pretty wife.

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: chair

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

Chester was at his wits' end. No matter what he said, he couldn't seem to get through to his wife Maude that having tea ready when Chester got home from work was Maude's responsibility, and that Chester, coming as he did from a traditional household, was unable to tolerate such a failure in his wife.

He hesitated a very long time before he finally decided he would have to use his cane upon her bottom, but when he had at last made up his mind that he must, his voice made his resolve plain. "Maude," he said, "it is time you understood that I will not tolerate this failure to fulfill your duty to me. I am going to cane you, now."

"What?!" Maude cried.

"Go into my study. I have put the desk chair in the corner, and you are to spread your legs, and get over it, and lay yourself over the back. I will come and raise your dress and give you your caning in a little while."

Chester raised her dress, as he had promised, but then he went to return a phone call, while Maude looked desperately behind her, blushing furiously at the way Chester was looking at her bottom, clad in her satin knickers, and even at the private place between her spread thighs, barely covered by the sheer fabric.

"Alright," Chester said when he had returned, with his cane in hand, "perhaps twelve strokes will help you remember to have my tea on the table in good time tomorrow."

He laid his hand on Maude's shoulder, and gave her the first stroke; she cried out, and, with her eyes closed in pain and humiliation, turned her face back over her shoulder, perhaps hoping for clemency.

Sadly, though, the sight only inflamed Chester more, and made him think that Maude should perhaps feel a great deal of his cane in future.

(Picture via Keith solley)

Feminine pleasure: the ultimate taboo? #Taboo2sday

In the just-released The Second Notebook of Emily Orn Wilkes, Secret Countess of Wessulk, the taboo is framed by the repression of Victorian culture. Where Taboo Tuesday is concerned, that lets me explore once again what I think of as the "front edge" of taboo--the stuff just over the border. I often wonder whether in fact the most universal taboo, in a traditional society, is the possibility of feminine pleasure. In this scene, Victorian Emily is having her picture taken in some very naughty poses; it causes some very naughty feelings. To her surprise, she has been given permission to pleasure herself.

I returned my gaze to the mirror. The stillness of the scene was remarkable; all, incredibly, waited upon my pleasure. I watched the fingers of my left hand work their way inward. My body began to shake, and I began to cry out, shamelessly. My middle finger-tip touched there, where my bottom’s heat was centered; in the mirror I saw a young bride, justly punished for her lewd immodesty, trying even more immodestly to find within the forbidden valley of her posterior a lewd balsam for her agony. My climax was like nothing I had known in my life to that moment: it seemed to explode outward from my loins until my whole naked body was a quivering jelly. I swayed, and almost fell. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Harrah shoot Mrs. Smith a look under raised eyebrows. “Remarkable,” she said.

Here's the blurb; click to buy!

When the door of the coach had been closed by the footman, and I had waved out the window to my receding family, and then sat back, looking down at my hands, folded in my lap, I began to weep, very softly, with the sheer excess of emotion. Edmund reached over and took my hand in his. I turned my head to look into his eyes, and to my great surprise found them kindly. 

“I realize,” my husband said, “dear Emily, that I won your body with my cheque-book. It is now my fondest hope that I might win your heart with my affection. You are the loveliest creature I ever saw.” With his right fore-finger he lifted my chin, gently; he bent his head, and our lips met for the first time. His kiss was tender, but somehow commanding, too, and it made me shiver. “Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world today.”  

Despite myself (for you will not be surprised to hear that I had decided he was a monster, and had not been dissuaded from that view by his pleasing demeanor all that day), I was touched by his words, which seemed sincere. Given the utter invisibility of the great drama from the conventional world to one who is not party to the different reality beneath, it had not seemed strange that Edmund would be perfectly pleasant in his address when my family were present; but now, I had supposed, the next scene of the drama was to begin. I will confess that a part of me was impatient. “Why then have you degraded me in this manner?”  

In this notebook, imagined as passed down to me from my great-great-grandmother, Emily Orn continues her initiation into a great drama of BDSM in Victorian England. Under the stern instruction now of her bridegroom, Emily at last learns what it means to serve his pleasure. 

Now go read all the other taboo posts, you wicked thing!

A Victorian wedding day like no other: The Second Notebook

At long last the second Victorian recension has appeared, gathering together the disparate bits from the main thrust (as it were) of EXPLORATIONS in books 25-32. It's called The Second Notebook of Emily Orn Wilkes, Secret Countess of Wessulk, and it's even more chock-full of Victorian BDSM than its predecessor. Above all, the wedding-night of Victorian Emily and her bridegroom Edmund does in fact happen. Here's how it starts:

Brightly dawned my wedding day, the fourth day of June, 1872. I have already told you, in the first part of my narrative, some of my waking thoughts upon that morning, when I contrasted those thoughts to what passed through my fancy on waking at Smith’s the previous day: how (on the morning of my wedding day) I was at first surprised to be wearing a night-dress, and then even more surprised to find in my heart a deep gratitude to Mrs. Smith; I shall not bore you with a lengthy reprise, but rather proceed with my tale in the more or less chronological fashion I have employed hitherto. 

Polly, one of Mrs. Smith’s strapping young women, was still asleep on her cot at the foot of my bed. As I looked down my bed to her sleeping form, I will confess that I wondered for a moment whether she might be a sound enough sleeper that I could quench the fire in whose grip I had once again awoken. Surely, thought I, if I pulled my night-dress up, it would sound only like the rustle of bed-clothes. . . and if I bit down hard enough on my collar, I could keep quiet. . . 

Visions of what Polly might do—the gagging, the cane I knew was in the special trousseau inside her valise now stored away in my own closet—did not help soothe the ache I felt. But as I began, oh, so slowly to pull at my lap and so to raise the hem of my night-dress, and felt the thin cotton begin to move so teasingly over my bare charms, I suddenly stopped. Where my governess’ hair-brush and the family cane had been utterly unable to prevent me in my lewd pursuits, Mrs. Smith’s razor and her hand had worked the seemingly impossible.

Here's the blurb; buy the book by clicking anywhere on this sentence. 

When the door of the coach had been closed by the footman, and I had waved out the window to my receding family, and then sat back, looking down at my hands, folded in my lap, I began to weep, very softly, with the sheer excess of emotion. Edmund reached over and took my hand in his. I turned my head to look into his eyes, and to my great surprise found them kindly.  

“I realize,” my husband said, “dear Emily, that I won your body with my cheque-book. It is now my fondest hope that I might win your heart with my affection. You are the loveliest creature I ever saw.” With his right fore-finger he lifted my chin, gently; he bent his head, and our lips met for the first time. His kiss was tender, but somehow commanding, too, and it made me shiver. “Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world today.”  

Despite myself (for you will not be surprised to hear that I had decided he was a monster, and had not been dissuaded from that view by his pleasing demeanor all that day), I was touched by his words, which seemed sincere. Given the utter invisibility of the great drama from the conventional world to one who is not party to the different reality beneath, it had not seemed strange that Edmund would be perfectly pleasant in his address when my family were present; but now, I had supposed, the next scene of the drama was to begin. I will confess that a part of me was impatient. “Why then have you degraded me in this manner?”  

In this notebook, imagined as passed down to me from my great-great-grandmother, Emily Orn continues her initiation into a great drama of BDSM in Victorian England. Under the stern instruction now of her bridegroom, Emily at last learns what it means to serve his pleasure. 

The dangerous Sidney Swann answers Emily's Questions

Sidney Swann had me at steampunk. Her new novel Dangerous Science is a roller-coaster ride on the kind of old coaster that makes you nostalgic even as it puts your heart in your throat. I almost wrote "rickety," but the plot of Dangerous Science is anything but that! (And neither is the cybernetically-enhanced swoony intellectual hero Dr. Sebastian Cromwell--my kind of cyber-dom!)

Why do you write?

I write because I’m not happy unless I’m writing. The writing bug bit me early; I was six years old and wrote a story about a deer named “Buttons”. At the end of the story he and his girlfriend went off in the woods and mated. My teacher - a prim, pinch-faced woman - informed me that the story should have ended in the meadow, and that whatever deer do in the woods is their business. Her reaction showed me that writing has power, even over adults. I was hooked.

I also write because I’m fascinated with language, and the magic of escaping into the worlds we create by using it. I’m fascinated that others are so eager to enter those worlds and get lost in them. As a reader, I do that all the time - immerse myself in the worlds created by other writers. 

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?)

I suppose I’d be stranded there with Doctor Who. I would say I’d be stranded with Ten, but after seeing Peter Capaldi’s neo-Victorian costume and piercing eyes, I’d have to revise that and say possibly Twelve. I find Doctor Who incredibly brilliant and sexy. And let’s face it, should a lady find herself stranded with The Doctor, it wouldn’t be for long. (I realize this assessment will be lost on those who are not Whovians; those who are will completely get it.)

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?

It’s definitely an orientation. My spanking fantasies started early on, in elementary school. This is an embarrassing admission, but my first spanking fantasy featured a prominent, nationally-recognized gentleman in my former profession whom I had the awkward pleasure to meet as an adult. 

I don’t know why I’m oriented the way I am, and I realize there are degrees. I’m not a lifestyle spankophile, in that I would want to live out some sort of disciplinary arrangement. And I’m quite odd in that the man typical in most spanking fantasies holds very little appeal for me. I’ve always been most attracted to men of intellect - scientists, professors, academics. There is something said about a man who can go toe-to-toe with me mentally. I love a man who can beat me at chess. In my next book there is likely to be a chess scene where the stakes are a spanking. Yes, that’s a spoiler.

Who's a favorite character from your own work, and why?

Well, given that Dangerous Science is my debut novel, I’ve a small pool to choose from. So, of course, it’s Gladys DeWalt. She’s smart, but like all brilliant people she is sometimes clueless to her own emotions. I like her because like me, she’s not a romantic person at heart. She’s independent, and a workaholic. And as an independent woman she finds romance when she’s on her way to doing something more interesting; it’s thrust upon her and at first she’s too proud to realize that the kind of stability Dr. Cromwell offers her is exactly what she needs. I think even though he’s an automaton, he recognizes before she does that what he’s offering is Love. The notion scares both of them. Again that is something I can relate to, because I am a romance author who is not at all romantic.

Who's a favorite character from someone else's work (erotic or non-erotic) and why?

The Lady Door from Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. She’s smart, resourceful, brave and faces the most diabolical of foes - the Angel Islington - out of loyalty to her slaughtered family. Like Gladys DeWalt, she doesn’t realize that her male companion is necessary to her success until it’s made apparent. And she doesn’t recognize her feelings for him, nor does he for her. Those are the best kind of love stories, the kind where love just emerges from the jumble of all else going on. It’s like finding a diamond in rubble. You’re like, “Oh, what is this doing here? How lovely!” Such a nice surprise, Love, when it happens that way. Don’t you think?


On a personal note, aside from all this, I’d like to tell you, Emily, how much I appreciate your support and friendship. You and the other writers I’ve met have made me feel so welcome and embraced. It’s been the nicest surprise of this whole experience. Thank you.

You're so very welcome, Sidney. I'm amazed by how many kindred spirits I've found in the spanking fic community!

Here's the blurb for the marvelous Dangerous Science!

Dedicated scientist Gladys DeWalt is a rising star in a Victorian community of scholars and explorers influenced as much by politics as discovery. So when her highly touted mission to excavate a legendary shipwreck ends in devastating failure, the Council of Scholars deals her another devastating blow.  

Stripped of her title, she's demoted to status of Intellectual Ward and placed under the authority of Sebastian Cromwell, a former professor she remembers as stern and exacting. Gladys feared Cromwell as a student, and fears him more since his accident and transformation as part automaton by rogue scientist Nigel Longbridge. Cromwell may look and function like a man, but he's as cold and clinical as the gears under his skin. He takes Gladys on to settle an old debt, but informs her from the outset that he will not brook any disobedience or disrespect. When Gladys defies him, she is punished.  

But under Cromwell's stern demeanor is the lingering shadow of humanity, and as the dashing automaton comes to admire his ward's intelligence and drive, he begins to question what really caused her mission's failure.
What he discovers will shake the Council of Scholars to its core, lead them both on an incredible adventure, and give Gladys a chance to redeem her name and win the love of a man who thought he was now beyond emotional connection.

And here's a wonderful excerpt!

She deserved to be punished so severely that she’d return to her room with no question as to his commitment to professionalism. Sebastian stepped over to her. Gladys did not flinch, but closed her eyes, clearly willing to accept whatever he decided. 

With a cry of frustration he flung the cane across the room and into the fireplace and pulled Gladys up from the bed. Spinning her to face him, he reached behind her and pulled at the top of her dress, snapping the buttons as he ripped it free and off her. The move required a great deal of strength, and she gasped, wide-eyed and suddenly afraid. 

“No,” he said quietly, tipping her chin up so that she was looking directly at him. “Do not fear me. I won’t hurt you, Dr. DeWalt.” 

“Gladys,” she said. “Call me Gladys.”

A remarkable French spanking household #SatSpanks

This moment (see my post yesterday for a little more context) was great fun to write, as was all of Victorian Emily's introduction to her new life of BDSM in what I called the "great drama."

I suppose what I found strangest was that some of those other aristocrats, I would learn—often in quite startling ways—after meeting them, were players, like us, in the drama. I was never able to predict at the dinner-table by what country squire—or even by what Earl or Duke—I might be spanked and irrumated in the privacy of Mr. Wilkes’ rooms at one of the Normandy inns where we stayed after dinner, or when a bishop I had just met would whisper in my ear, “I hear you wear your aide-mari very prettily, Mrs. Wilkes. I hope to see so for myself, later.” 

I soon became used to the ritual of it, though. After a day of walking over Mont-Saint-Michel, for example, there was a dinner in the home of a member of the local gentry. The night before, we had had supper at just another such house, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened, though once we had returned to the inn Edmund had put me through my paces, mouth, front, and back, as he did every night, to my shameful delight. Edmund had not warned me to expect anything different at the present house, but it was without a great deal of surprise that I noticed that the maids of this household were naked, and that the mistress of the house wore only a silver chain about her waist. When I entered the salon, she was watching a footman spank a maid, laid over the arm of a sofa, with a wooden paddle. The maid, a blonde little thing of eighteen or so, was sobbing, "Oh, Madame, je--je regrette. . . oh, s'il vous plait. . ." Her bottom was already bright red, and I instantly felt sorry for her, even as I felt the moisture begin to flow into my aide-mari.

Here's the blurb. Buy the book here! 

But Charles had something else in mind, it turned out. After waiting all day for him to say something about a discipline-session, that night he called me into his study and, instead of telling me prepare for a caning, told me that in preparation for our trip to Europe, I was going to learn to be a little girl when he wanted me to be. "I must say, Emily," he said, "that your love of your diapers has intrigued me. We're going to be doing more ageplay from now on--and we know it's something they do in Prophettown, as well, so it may be useful on our trip."  

I knew instantly what this was about. It was about the way I had responded to Sam's daddy-domming me.  

The 32nd book of Explorations tells of fantasy-Charles and fantasy-Emily's ageplay preparations to go to Prophettown, by way of France, while Victorian Emily, herself in France, is inducted into the way of the BDSM great drama.  

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, anal, spanking, intense ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. 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. 

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

The beginning of the wedding trip: Emily's Victorian Wedding Trip

Because the excerpt I want to use for Saturday Spankings tomorrow is one of my very favorites, I'm going to play it a bit cool today, and give you the mysterious, Victorian lead up to it. I hope this bit at least gives you a sense of how Victorian Emily's married life is starting, in Emily's Victorian Wedding Trip.

Edmund was very affectionate when he came to get me in the brougham. He told me all about the wedding-trip he had planned: Mrs. Smith had given me a general notion of the traditional wedding-trip upon which British brides of the drama were taken, but Edmund now filled in the details: we would take the ferry to Calais, and spend several days in what was considered the drama's homeland, Normandy, so that I could be acquainted with "my" heritage. (This seemed very strange to me, and, I must admit, still does: my family had never been players in the drama; still less had Edmund's, but it was the custom from the drama's earliest days that when new players were admitted they were considered to have acquired an ancient ancestry of erotic forebears.) Then we would go to Paris for a more conventional sort of a tour, and would finally journey back into Normandy, to Rouen, for the Midsummer Festival. 

When Edmund and I were travelling, with the exception of my utterly invisible underthings, the aide-mari and the petit-maître (which were not worn together, of course; Edmund would tell me when I was to wear one or the other; most of the time it was the aide-mari, and the petit-maître was reserved for times when he considered me in need of correction), we might have been any other couple of the ton. We travelled in first class compartments and first class cabins; we dined at tables populated by other aristocrats, not a few of them noble.

Here's the blurb. Buy the book here! 

But Charles had something else in mind, it turned out. After waiting all day for him to say something about a discipline-session, that night he called me into his study and, instead of telling me prepare for a caning, told me that in preparation for our trip to Europe, I was going to learn to be a little girl when he wanted me to be. "I must say, Emily," he said, "that your love of your diapers has intrigued me. We're going to be doing more ageplay from now on--and we know it's something they do in Prophettown, as well, so it may be useful on our trip."  

I knew instantly what this was about. It was about the way I had responded to Sam's daddy-domming me.  

The 32nd book of Explorations tells of fantasy-Charles and fantasy-Emily's ageplay preparations to go to Prophettown, by way of France, while Victorian Emily, herself in France, is inducted into the way of the BDSM great drama.  

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, anal, spanking, intense ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. 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. 

Visual inspirations analysis: leash

(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)

The chief thermeme here is of course the leash itself, held out to "Mariko"'s fiancé. The hotel setting, along with the particular, very hot configuration of Mariko's clothing, suggested an ongoing, loving relationship in which the dominant partner could develop, over a long period, his fantasies about what Mariko should wear the first time she truly submits to him. By the same token, the wonderful look of apprehension on her face suggests that this is indeed her first time wearing these lovely leather things.

But I suppose the thing I love most about this photo is the way she holds the leash, as if she is giving over to her master, along with the right to use her for his pleasure, responsibility for all the strange fantasies that have troubled her for so long. From now on, her master, in his wisdom, will decide how those fantasies will be realized. Yes, I'm projecting; but don't we all? Especially we who love erotica?

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: leash

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

On her 18th birthday, Mariko's fiancé took her to dinner at a fancy hotel restaurant. As they were finishing dessert, he took out a box, and handed it to her, wordlessly. Inside the box were two cuffs, a collar, and a leash, along with a room key.

"Go upstairs," he said, "to that room, and take off your skirt and panties. Unbutton your shirt. Then put on your new things. I will be up to spank you in a few minutes."

Mariko's face grew hot with shame. "But. . . why?" she whispered, as her heart beat faster and faster.

"Because it is time for you to begin to learn about what pleases me. After you have spent the next two days serving me, wearing your new things, and I have trained you to obey me as you should, you may not get spanked quite as often, but tonight your bottom is going to pay for how long I've had to wait to enjoy you the way I'm going to enjoy you tonight."

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

Diapered at my in-laws: #Taboo2sday

As promised, the taboo moment (if you think diapers are taboo) from Emily's Victorian Wedding Trip. It's my contribution to this week's Taboo Tuesday.

That was when I wet my diaper, looking down at my plate and feeling the blood fill my face so entirely, and so warmly, that I lost almost lost touch with where I was. Perhaps the start of realizing that I was supposed to be something other than a diaper girl at my husband's parents' table (at least according to them; from Charles' perspective, I'm reasonably sure, being a diaper girl was exactly what was desired), distracted my mind enough from the long-accustomed task of keeping my pee inside my bladder that I was able to let go. I thought of my great-great-grandmother being forced to the same thing on her Mrs. Smith's Persian rug (see Book 25, Emily's Morning). Here was I doing it at my own Mrs. Smith's dining-room table. The forbiddenness of the thing was so arousing I was in serious danger of moaning right there. 

"Emily?" said Mrs. Smith. "Are you all right?" 

Jesus, I suddenly thought to myself, they're going to think I'm pregnant. That thought gave me a fit of the giggles, which made Mr. and Mrs. Smith look at each other in consternation again. At that point, I excused myself from the table. I crept upstairs, as quietly as I could; Charles joined me a minute later. There, in the guest-bedroom that had been his nursery, my daddy changed me, not neglecting beforehand to gag me with the dry diaper and to force me to a shuddering, submissive climax there on the opened wet one.

Here's the blurb! Buy the book here!

But Charles had something else in mind, it turned out. After waiting all day for him to say something about a discipline-session, that night he called me into his study and, instead of telling me prepare for a caning, told me that in preparation for our trip to Europe, I was going to learn to be a little girl when he wanted me to be. "I must say, Emily," he said, "that your love of your diapers has intrigued me. We're going to be doing more ageplay from now on--and we know it's something they do in Prophettown, as well, so it may be useful on our trip."  

I knew instantly what this was about. It was about the way I had responded to Sam's daddy-domming me.  

The 32nd book of Explorations tells of fantasy-Charles and fantasy-Emily's ageplay preparations to go to Prophettown, by way of France, while Victorian Emily, herself in France, is inducted into the way of the BDSM great drama.  

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, anal, spanking, intense ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. 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.

Now go read all the other taboo posts, you wicked thing!

Diapers are back for fantasy-Emily! Emily's Victorian Wedding Trip

I really love this scene, from the recently released 32nd book of EXPLORATIONS, Emily's Victorian Wedding Trip. But. . . you know about me and diapers by now, right? Tomorrow I'll give you the taboo eight sentences that follow, for Taboo Tuesday!

Wearing a diaper under one's dress at one's in-laws isn't really like anything else. Sometimes I wonder what percentage of the general population (female or male or whatever, I suppose) would find it, as I did, so arousing that it was nearly impossible to carry on a rational conversation. 

Charles' mother: "So have you ever been to Europe before, Emily?" 

Emily: "Yes--that is to say, no, or, really. No." Giggle. My bladder was full, and I couldn't figure out how I was possibly supposed to get over my hangups and release the necessary muscles. 

Mother-in-law and father-in-law exchange puzzled glances. True, I had elected to delay undergrad to marry Charles, but I'd never had a reputation as an airhead. I was dying to say, "I really am smart: you know me! It's just that I'm wearing a fucking diaper, and your son wants me to wet it so he can take me upstairs and change it. OK?" 

"Well," said Charles' father, "I'm sure you'll adore it--you took all those language courses at Hotchkiss, right?" 

"Mm-hmm," I said, after remembering that before becoming a little girl in a diaper I had actually been a straight-A Latin and French student.

Here's the blurb. Buy the book here! 

But Charles had something else in mind, it turned out. After waiting all day for him to say something about a discipline-session, that night he called me into his study and, instead of telling me prepare for a caning, told me that in preparation for our trip to Europe, I was going to learn to be a little girl when he wanted me to be. "I must say, Emily," he said, "that your love of your diapers has intrigued me. We're going to be doing more ageplay from now on--and we know it's something they do in Prophettown, as well, so it may be useful on our trip."  

I knew instantly what this was about. It was about the way I had responded to Sam's daddy-domming me.  

The 32nd book of Explorations tells of fantasy-Charles and fantasy-Emily's ageplay preparations to go to Prophettown, by way of France, while Victorian Emily, herself in France, is inducted into the way of the BDSM great drama.  

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, anal, spanking, intense ageplay, watersports, diaperplay. 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.

I get to give the wonderful Adaline Raine a seat on MY couch!

Adaline Raine, aka Bratty Adaline, is one of the wonderful friends I've made through participating in the marvelous blog-hops that seem to give rhythm to our spanking fic community life. She was nice enough to have me over to talk about The Count's Discipline a few weeks ago, and now it's my sincere pleasure to welcome her for Emily's Questions!

Hi Emily! I am so excited to be here today. *smiles* 

Why do you write? 

I write because it is a part of who I am. When I was in college a close English professor told me I had a gift. Up until then I knew I wanted to be an author just not my hidden potential. I get up every morning and ache to sit down and get my characters’ stories out. My current status is part-time writer but I am taking steps to change this to full time within the next two years.

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?) 

I am so diverse in my fantasies I would have to implement some type of choose your own adventure set-up so I could experience them all at once. Spankings and vampires rank way up there. *grin*

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? 

BDSM and spankophilia are different just like domestic discipline and sexual spanking are not the same. I am personally into the BDSM lifestyle as well as elements of domestic discipline but they are not always hand in hand. I guess if someone must choose an umbrella to fall under it is easier to group it under BDSM because it seems to be more accepted. I guess the answer to your question would be something else!

Who's a favorite character from your own work, and why? 

I adore the male lead in my current work in progress, Professor Matthews. He is a deliciously sexy alpha male teacher who offers guidance and discipline to one of his senior college students after she loses both parents. I have balanced the punishment aspect along with sensual elements and their budding romance. It is not your typical school girl fantasy!

Who's a favorite character from someone else's work (erotic or non-erotic) and why? 

Right now it is Kitty from The Westerfield Affair by Renee Rose. I immediately fell for Kitty because of her spunk but knew there was more to her story. She has quite the mouth on her but again you have to dig deeper to get all the levels of this amazing character to surface. I was happy to see her make an appearance in The Reddington Scandal as well. There are so many layers to her and the bratty/sassy attitude is just the surface.

Thank you so much for inviting me. I had a lovely time and extend the welcome to my blog any time.

Addy's info!

Adaline Raine is an avid reader of spanking romance and will happily review every book she reads!

Her first title, Marked by the Alpha, adds a delicious twist to the werewolf story by showing a literal alpha male who takes his mate in hand for some much needed discipline.

Next up is Becoming a Lady a historical romance told through the eyes of Anna an abused woman who is abducted by a man for purposes unknown. He cares for Anna and is patient with her but his teaching method is his hand to her hind!

Follow Addy on twitter: http://www.twitter.com/Adaline_Raine

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Raine.Adaline

Pintrest: Spanking Romance Books: http://www.pinterest.com/adalineraine/

She is always willing to have guests at: http://www.brattyadaline.blogspot.com

Two little girls, punished by each other's Daddies #SatSpanks

I loved writing Caroline and George's night with their new friends Caitlin and Joe. In the taxi on the way to Caitlin and Joe's apartment, the girls get into a little trouble because they don't want to tell their Daddies what they're talking about.

"Now, girls," said Mr. Lee, once our dresses were off, and we were over each other's Daddy's laps in only our panties, and those pulled down to our knees (Joe had complimented George on my cane-welts, which only stung a tiny bit now, after more than a week), "what was so funny in the car?" 

"It was only about my underwear, Daddy," said Caitlin. "I just told Caroline that I've been allowed to wear my panties lately." 

"Silly girl," said Mr. Lee, stroking my bottom as he spoke, "why didn't you just tell us?" 

"It's so embarrassing!" Caitlin replied. I wished I could see her, but Mr. Lee had set up two windsor chairs facing one another, and I had been made to go over his lap to the right, while Caitlin had gone over George's in the opposite direction. "A girl's panties are her private things, aren't they, Daddy?"

Needless to say, they're not private from her Daddy, in Caroline's and Caitlin's houses!

Here's the blurb! Buy the book here!

When Caroline overhears two of her former students, Mary and Angela, talking about how they saw her getting a spanking from her husband, George, the stage is set for a new phase of Caroline and George's ageplay relationship. 

Using experiences gained from new friendships with couples in ageplay relationships, Caroline and George will travel deeper into their taboo fantasies in an attempt to help Caroline's students and to deepen their own connection to each other and to their new friends. 

From a "little party" where Caroline and her new "little" friend Caitlin play Colonial Girl dolls, to a steamy weekend with Caitlin and her husband Joe in New York City, Caroline and George find new ways to satisfy each other's longings. At the same time, Caroline finds herself drawn to Caitlin in a way she never imagined. In the end, will Caroline decide that, even though she is first and foremost her husband's little girl, she can take on the responsibility of helping Mary and Angela realize their own fantasies? Will her new friendship with Caitlin help her discover what it means to take the upper hand with someone, while still remaining obedient?

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

Colonial Girls with lustful thoughts: Caroline's Little Friends

One of my favorite things about Caroline's Little Friends is the way Caroline and her new friend Caitlin play with "Colonial" Girl dolls. I think you can probably tell the kind of doll I mean. . .

The whole thing was bizarre and yet utterly wonderful; I had always been too self-conscious to try to play like a little when I was by myself, and I hadn't even confessed to George that one of the things I wanted to try was coloring and reading picture books and playing with dolls. Now, with the other girls doing it, it just seemed right to pick up a Colonial Girl doll (Prudence, my favorite) and brush her hair, and put her on her horse, Copper, so she could go for a ride. 

Another girl, Caitlin, said to me, shyly, "Can I play with you?" and I said, "Sure! Do you want Prudence and I'll go get Marianne?" but she said "No, that's OK--I'll get Marianne. Do you like Colonial Girl?" 

"Duh," I teased, and she laughed merrily. 

That was when I had my first inkling that I might like to kiss another girl. So many things that had lain dormant in me were being brought out by my ageplay with George that sometimes I didn't know whether the thoughts that came to my head, and sent tiny waves of arousal to my little-girl loins were really me, or somehow wakened falsely in me by the situation. Caitlin decided the question for me, because she gave me a peck on the cheek. 

"You're very pretty," she said. 

"So are you," I replied, taken aback but now knowing that I would probably like to kiss another girl, as long as it was Caitlin, who had beautiful flaming red hair and milk-white skin, and blue eyes. I shivered as her nipples brushed up against my upper arm, when she turned to get the Marianne doll. 

"Have you read the books?" she whispered. 

"Of course," I whispered back. 

"Prudence," she said in a wonderful posh British accent, "Miss Pemberley is waiting for us!" 

"Oh, Marianne," I replied, "I'm so sorry! I forgot!" Prudence came down off Copper, and went to lessons with her friend. 

"Prue," said Caitlin, "do you love me?" 

"Of course, Marianne." I giggled. 

"Do you ever. . ." I looked at Caitlin; she was blushing, and that made me blush. 

"What, Marianne?" 

"You know, in bed at night. . . do you ever think about me?" 

I giggled again. "Um, yes. . . sometimes. . . do you think about me?" I felt like I was flying.

 Here's the blurb! Buy the book here!

When Caroline overhears two of her former students, Mary and Angela, talking about how they saw her getting a spanking from her husband, George, the stage is set for a new phase of Caroline and George's age-play relationship.  

Using experiences gained from new friendships with couples in age-play relationships, Caroline and George will travel deeper into their taboo fantasies in an attempt to help Caroline's students and to deepen their own connection to each other and to their new friends.  

From a "little party" where Caroline and her new "little" friend Caitlin play Colonial Girl dolls, to a steamy weekend with Caitlin and her husband Joe in New York City, Caroline and George find new ways to satisfy each other's longings. At the same time, Caroline finds herself drawn to Caitlin in a way she never imagined. In the end, will Caroline decide that, even though she is first and foremost her husband's little girl, she can take on the responsibility of helping Mary and Angela realize their own fantasies? Will her new friendship with Caitlin help her discover what it means to take the upper hand with someone, while still remaining obedient? 

Visual spanking stories analysis: hussy

(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)

The composition of this photo stuns me. Indeed, it's so well-composed that I have a hard time singling out individual hotness-elements ("thermemes"? See to what foolishness a classical education can lead you?), since they all seem to flow together. I can identify them, but I can't see how they function as searingly hot as they do, independently of one another, with the exception perhaps of the mightiest thermeme: the paddle.

Here then, the thermemes:

• the paddle, perfectly cocked.
• the shape and clothing of the paddler, perfectly matronly.
• her hand on her hip, perfectly indignant.
• the position of "Anne," perfectly offered to the paddle.
• "Anne's" lingerie, perfectly naughty.
• "Anne's" lipstick, perfectly slutty.
• "Anne's" turned face, perfectly apprehensive.

The basic dynamic called to me, loud and clear: punished hussy. The question then was who was doing the punishing, and why. For a while I thought it must be a wife punishing a mistress, but that didn't seem to have the same condemnatory air as a mother can generate, when confronted with a daughter's misconduct, at least in my fantasies.

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: hussy

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

"I suppose you actually went into a shop to buy these disgraceful. . . things." Anne's mother's voice was like ice.

"No! He gave them to me!"

"Do you think that makes it better, you hussy? I only wish I had given you this paddling years ago. Perhaps then you might understand what a man means when he dresses a young woman up this way!"

"I know what he means! He loves me!"

Her mother laughed, ruefully. "And he's going to leave his rich wife for you. Of course."

"Yes! She never pleases him the way I do!"

"The way you do?!" She heard the horror in her mother's voice. "What do you let him do to you, when you put on these slutty things?"

Anne stayed silent.

"I suppose you suck his cock with those red lips of yours, don't you?" Anne blushed, remembering how she had done just that in the hotel room the day before. "And, looking at this impudent backside in these wicked panties, I'm sure he can't resist making you take him there, can he?"

Her blush grew deeper, but she kept silent, still.

"Well, Miss Anne, it's time to learn the price of your behavior."

(Picture via Keith solley from Mister Lamour Photography.)

Big-girl time at the little party: Caroline's Little Friends #Taboo2sday

This post is part of a great new bloghop initiative from Raya Ezelle!

The funny thing about taboo is that although there are certain things (incest, bestiality, non-consent) that are held to be taboo by almost everyone, the concentric circles that radiate out from there grow and shrink according to the person. For my first contribution to Taboo Tuesday, I've therefore chosen something that is taboo, I think, for some, but not for others: the group-sex at the little party that Caroline and George go to. It's Caroline's first time doing something so kinky, but to the others at the party, it's clearly old hat.

The table was in the middle of a large variety of furniture, and in a certain sense it was more of a pedestal or a dais than a table, low enough that people seated around it could have a very fine view of anything that took place atop it: it was clear that what Caitlin was inviting me to do (in the guise of a command from my daddy), was to perform for the whole group. It was heavily padded, and there were cushions on it, all of it covered in an artificial leather that I imagined was easy to wipe down. As soon as we got down to the basement, Caitlin took my hand. 

"Do you want to?" she whispered. 

I swallowed. "I think so," I whispered back. I loved to act, and Caitlin was clearly a real actress. There was a part of me that was flying at the thought that I was about to be in a little girl sex-show. There was a stepstool so that we could climb onto the table. Caitlin went first, and she knelt there waiting for me. I climbed up, and knelt, facing her, panicking a little because I had no idea what to do.

Here's the blurb! Buy the book here!

When Caroline overhears two of her former students, Mary and Angela, talking about how they saw her getting a spanking from her husband, George, the stage is set for a new phase of Caroline and George's age-play relationship.  

Using experiences gained from new friendships with couples in age-play relationships, Caroline and George will travel deeper into their taboo fantasies in an attempt to help Caroline's students and to deepen their own connection to each other and to their new friends.  

From a "little party" where Caroline and her new "little" friend Caitlin play Colonial Girl dolls, to a steamy weekend with Caitlin and her husband Joe in New York City, Caroline and George find new ways to satisfy each other's longings. At the same time, Caroline finds herself drawn to Caitlin in a way she never imagined. In the end, will Caroline decide that, even though she is first and foremost her husband's little girl, she can take on the responsibility of helping Mary and Angela realize their own fantasies? Will her new friendship with Caitlin help her discover what it means to take the upper hand with someone, while still remaining obedient? 

Now go read all the other taboo posts, you wicked thing!

Seen getting a spanking, by her students: Caroline's Little Friends

I'm so excited about Caroline's Little Friends coming out that I'm just going to feature it, shamelessly, all week. Here's how it starts:

"You're making that up." 

"No, I swear. I was standing ten feet away. I couldn't move because once they'd started it would have been sooo embarrassing if they knew I was there--for them and for me!" 

"He seriously called her 'young lady'?" 

"I haven't even gotten to the good part." 

"What?" 

"He spanked her." 

"No!" 

"He said 'I can't let this go'--I guess she hadn't called him and he was worried, or something--and she said--get this--"Yes, Daddy." And then he bent her over the hood of the car, and pulled up her skirt. . ." 

The silence from the other girl (Angela Heathers, I was almost positive: black hair in a ballerina's bun, tall and willowy, dark eyes) spoke volumes. I pictured her mouth hanging open. 

My face felt as hot as the sun, as I sat, trapped in the toilet stall while they, just a few feet away, discussed my intimate life of ageplay with my husband. 

"And she was wearing these pink little-girl panties that--I'm just saying--were really hot in that wrong sort of way." 

It so happened that I was also wearing those same panties--George's favorites--right then. Indeed, they were currently around my knees. 

"Did he pull them down?" Another pause. "I mean" (was that embarrassment in Angela's voice?) "because. . . um. . ." 

The other voice (Mary McCall, I knew: blonde and petite) decided to help, "Because that would be hot. No--but it was still really incredible and. . ." Her voice dropped to a whisper that I couldn't hear. . . what was she saying? 

Angela giggled. "No, no," she said, "I would have, too." Had Mary just confessed that seeing me spanked had gotten her wet?

Here's the blurb! Buy the book here!

When Caroline overhears two of her former students, Mary and Angela, talking about how they saw her getting a spanking from her husband, George, the stage is set for a new phase of Caroline and George's age-play relationship.  

Using experiences gained from new friendships with couples in age-play relationships, Caroline and George will travel deeper into their taboo fantasies in an attempt to help Caroline's students and to deepen their own connection to each other and to their new friends.  

From a "little party" where Caroline and her new "little" friend Caitlin play Colonial Girl dolls, to a steamy weekend with Caitlin and her husband Joe in New York City, Caroline and George find new ways to satisfy each other's longings. At the same time, Caroline finds herself drawn to Caitlin in a way she never imagined. In the end, will Caroline decide that, even though she is first and foremost her husband's little girl, she can take on the responsibility of helping Mary and Angela realize their own fantasies? Will her new friendship with Caitlin help her discover what it means to take the upper hand with someone, while still remaining obedient?