A shameful race #Taboo2sday

More and more I seem to be embracing exhibitionism as my favorite taboo. . . 

For her part, Isabel gave a little questioning moan, as if overcome by how lovely the steward’s cock made her feel, all virtue and honor to the contrary. “Oh, please…” she said, as if she could not help it. 

“Is she wet?” Guy asked. 

“Yes… yes, my lord,” Christophe said, looking down at where his body was joined to his fucking piece’s. 

“Aha—I thought so!” Not to be outdone, Guy now took his own position at Anne’s backside, raised his clothes, and was inside his wife in a trice, fucking hard. “Not as wet as my whore of a countess, though, I wager. Come, let us race, as we used to!”

Intrigued? Why not satisfy your curiosity by clicking here to buy the book?

More wonderful, taboo delights below!

Bawdy jests at the wedding feast: Her True Lord's Claim

As you know, I'm very wicked. The thought of having rude, drunk men at my wedding feast, shouting lewd things about how my bridegroom will soon deflower me. . . well, it's a fantasy of long standing, for me.

“And what then?” called a man-at-arms, one of her own party, of Nele’s party. Had he told them that they must pretend to join in the fun, or was he drunkenly enjoying the jesting? “What will the earl of Mercester do to the countess of Mercester once he gives that naughty bottom what it deserves?” 

“Aye, that and more!” called one of Guy’s own men-at-arms. “Though the bishop bless the bed, it is my lord who decides how he shall ride tonight!” 

Anne felt her eyes grow wide. Surely the man must not have meant what it sounded like? She looked at Bishop Hamo, sitting to her left. To her distress, he wore a kind of leering smile. He himself called out, to her dismay, “So long as the sin be confessed, my lords, a man should have his wife to use as he pleases, is my doctrine!” Then he turned to Anne, and said directly to her, “Wife, submit to your husband, as the apostle hath said and as I am sure the sisters of Stanmer taught you.” 

A cheer went up at this, as Anne sat frozen in place, unable even to nod. Yes, of course the sisters had said that, but… She knew she had gone white when the bishop began to make his jest, but now she felt the color flooding back at the memory that came to her unbidden, of Nele claiming her with his cock in the place where it seemed these men were saying her husband would also take his pleasure. The arousal she felt at the thought seemed even worse, and more traitorous, than the desire that had come upon her for the spanking at her husband’s hand, for she had thought, in her foolishness, that only Nele would ever have here there: that it would be his special place, and a great secret between them. 

But these men… how could it be that they said what they said?

So many mysteries. . . learn their answers by buying the book! 

'Tis here! Her True Lord's Claim #SatSpanks

If you seem to recall a slightly different title for this one, perhaps you were living in a parallel universe. . . (Yes, the title changed, but let's just pretend it was always Her True Lord's Claim.)

Anyway, are you like me? Do you wonder all the time whether famous historical figures were really spankos?

"Enough," said the queen imperiously. "We are here to judge in the matter of Nele de Lourcy and Anne of Mowton. Sir Nele, when you had your leman's bottom, did she like it?" 

Nele closed his eyes, trying to discover how he felt. Then, unable even to begin to find that out, he opened them and said, "I believe she did, your majesty." 

"Did you spank her, at all?" 

At the memory, Nele felt his cock begin to stir. "I am afraid I did, your majesty." 

"There is nothing to fear," said Eleanor. "Were you perhaps surprised that Anne seemed to enjoy being spanked?"

Yes, that Eleanor. Buy it at Amazon here!

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Who "I" am: a recapitulation

I, Emily Tilton, if I exist, am a human rights lawyer who resides in Greenwich, CT. It's more likely that I'm actually someone else, who wishes she were as free to play out her real fantasies as Emily Tilton is.

EXPLORATIONS is a narrative version of my nearly lifelong quest to reconcile my submissive erotic orientation with my ethics. In this blog, as in the books of EXPLORATIONS themselves, when I'm writing in italics, I'm writing as the "real" me--35 year old lawyer Emily.

Over the many years since I became aware of my sometimes unbearable craving for ravishment, spanking, and above all anal domination, I have tried to come to terms with that craving in more ways than I can count. The first of the ways was by reading, voraciously, every piece of good BDSM erotica (and of course also a ton of bad BDSM erotica) I could find.

Eventually, I read "Story of O." As is reflected throughout EXPLORATIONS, it changed my life, though the change has been gradual, and continues to this day. The idea that other women might share the lusts I have by turns been ashamed of and defiantly proud of, that a woman like the real Pauline Réage might write so beautifully of those lusts, and work them out so thoroughly and even pitilessly on a character, put Réage's famous pencil in my right hand. Or, to put it in the terms of EXPLORATIONS, it put my left hand on the keyboard of my laptop and my right hand in my lap, if you know what I mean. I started to write spanking stories.

But because I'm interested in helping myself and others understand how BDSM can be lived within a mostly vanilla existence, the way most of us have to live it, EXPLORATIONS has a unique element that I hope will set it apart and make it useful: I have created a fantasy-version of myself (keeping to the tropes of the genre I know so well, fantasy-Emily is an eighteen-year-old virginal bride with a self-abuse problem), whose fantasies and "realities" are the central subject of the stories of EXPLORATIONS, while keeping my authorial, real voice in the margins, explaining and analyzing, and revealing from time to time the much more mundane, real version of the things I have transformed in the story of my fantasy-self. This doubling of the "I" in the first-person narrative of EXPLORATIONS might make the series worth exploring all on its own.

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: a beginning, ICYMI

I'm trying to set my blogging house in order a little, and as part of that I'm going to start to bring back some things readers who found me more recently might not have seen. ICYMI (in case you missed it) seems to me to be a necessary part of blogging, because otherwise only a very few people ever read older posts (unless, like my "Anal Training in Public" post, you hit some search terms that lots of people seem to like. . .). And those old posts are good, too! 

So here's the very first post in the visual inspirations series, ICYMI, with its analysis:

There's a thing that I love to do both for its own sake (or, I suppose, just for the sake of auto-eroticism) and for the sake of keeping my fantasies and their elaboration fresh. It also helps me grow in my understanding of my BDSM orientation, and has even been known to make others happy.

I take one of those pictures that takes my breath away (if you're reading this blog, I suspect you know the kind I mean--and I also hope that you're like me in that while these pictures are certainly sometimes explicit, even more frequently they're not explicit at all [though they're almost always obviously sexy in some way]) and I write a little story about it. Sometimes the story is only a sentence or two; sometimes it runs several paragraphs.

So I'm going to try putting a few of these up here. I'm fairly sure that if I simply embed the image from its original location, it's fair-use, but please let me know if you find an image with respect to which you think I'm violating a copyright, and I'll disembed it, and link it instead, immediately (I'm going to use this initial post as the introduction to the series, and link it at the top of future installments).

So, the first image. I'm sure you won't be surprised (if you know me) at the role played in it by lingerie, and in its story:

Told to stand against the wall while her boyfriend got ready to punish her, Marcie began to regret her choice to wear the naughty pink and black babydoll pajamas. As soon as he had seen them, Joe had gotten a strange look in his eye. True, exciting precisely this desire--the desire to punish her--had been exactly why Marcie had bought the slinky camisole with the adorable pink trim (including the irresistible little bow that sat right between Marcie's small breasts now), and the matching pink bottoms with the tiny sheer skirt that didn't cover anything at all really. But if Joe did decide he was going to spank her, and flip up that little skirt, her bottom was in serious trouble.

When she had come out of the bathroom of his apartment wearing the pajamas, which she had so carefully smuggled in in her purse, feeling brazen and sexy, she had had a sudden moment of doubt as he, fully clothed of course, turned to look at her.

The long silence that ensued, as Joe looked her up and down, had nearly made her panic and run back into the bathroom in shame.

"Well," Joe had finally said, "you've been hinting about spanking ever since we started dating. And now I can see how badly you need one. Go stand by the wall while I get ready to punish you for putting on such naughty things without my permission."

As Marcie watched, Joe rearranged the furniture. Her knees crossed and uncrossed nervously. This was what she wanted, wasn't it?

Analysis

With this post I started into what I'm thinking of as a series that will continue, in which I share some of the narratives that seem to rise without will or warning in my mind when I look at certain images. Besides being fun and interesting in its own right, that series seems like an opportunity to explore in another direction from the main direction of this blog (the main direction of the blog is to tell the story behind the story of the books of EXPLORATIONS).

In the story, a picture of a girl in a lovely set of babydoll pajamas (below) inspired in me a spanking story about a couple who have been dating for a few weeks; she (I named her Marcie) feels the desperate desire to be spanked that I know so well; he, perhaps initially not inclined to think of such things, suddenly sees the possibilities when she emerges from the bathroom of his apartment wearing the pajamas.

I think the essential hotness--the part that made the image one I wanted to elaborate on in the form of a story (and it seems to me that all the images that have this effect on me have one essential hotness)--is in the combination skirt and panties. At the top of the post I put another version of the same garment, that seems to me to reinforce (at least for me) the basic erotic appeal of the thing itself.


But what is that basic erotic appeal? In the picture that inspired yesterday's post, the model (whose character in the shot I named "Marcie"--though of course that's very unlikely to be the model's real name, and I would be greatly distressed if anyone thought I was talking about her rather than about the character she projects in the shot) seemed to me, probably on the instructions of the cameraperson (a Dominant? see how easily these fantasies spin themselves in my fevered soul?), to have elaborated something important about the panty-skirt in three ways: her position against the wall, her biting her fingernail, and her slightly crossed knees.

Each of these gestures, to me, projects a submissive character, and I built the tiny bit of Marcie that I build in yesterday's post upon that character. (As you can tell from the entire nature of this blog, I find that sort of character very appealing, since I identify with it so strongly!)

But what fascinates me is why the panty-skirt itself would be the essential hotness. Is there anything about putting a little skirt (really, it seems rather funny to dignify that minuscule amount of fabric with the word "skirt," but what else are we to call it?) around a pair of panties that has a submissive element?

Yes, I think. This piece of lingerie (or nightwear, but I think the distinction really ceases to matter when the thing becomes erotic rather than functional) exploits one particular aspect of the skirt: the way it can be lifted, or even simply flipped up, to make a girl's charms available. Skirts--and short skirts above all--always have the potential to convey this message: lifting me reveals the place where Dominant others would like to take their pleasure (and where I, wanton, can't help desiring that Dominant others will want to take their pleasure).

Never mind that in this case, somewhat confusingly, flipping up the little skirt reveals charms still covered by panties: the D/s imagination, as far as I can tell, never worries about such niceties.

There's another way to put it, too, I suppose: this strange, hot panty-skirt is like a perpetual view up a girl's skirt.

Shouldn't any girl who would wear such a thing be spanked for her immodesty (provided of course that that's a turn-on for her)?

A strange family affair, from the Omnibus #Taboo2sday

You'll see here the way I bend over backward to have my taboo and make it "okay" too. . .

In the usual parlance of Prophettown, Susan had chosen to play the kind of junior-wife who was called "a handful." Women in Prophettown choose their play-styles; Susan had chosen this one. The "handful" play-style tends to be chosen by those submissives who, perhaps because of feelings of shame they had about sex growing up, feel the need to be disciplined and ravished in the harshest possible way, short of physical harm, in order to find erotic release. 

Thus, Susan had sassed Barbara, telling her to get her own glass of water, and the family court had been convened. With a look of aroused expectation, knowing that Chuck would never pass up the chance to give his pretty junior-wife a family butt-fucking, Barbara announced the charge. 

"What sentence do you suggest, Barbara?" asked the husband. 

"A family whipping and butt-fucking, Sir."

It's in the Omnibus, which you can buy here!

More wonderful, taboo delights below!

Her true lord's claim #SatSpanks

That's both the title of my next book, probably out some time next week, and the best way to summarize this little excerpt from it.

"Nele, you mustn't!" He couldn't really mean to do what it seemed he meant. To her shame, all the strange feelings she had had about Alianore being birched, and about her own birching by Sister Marie, seemed to come back tenfold as she felt her bottom exposed to Nele's view. 

Then. . . then he put his hand there, to move her over his lap more firmly, and she thought she would faint with the terrible pleasure of it. Anne gave a little whimper, deep in her throat. 

"Answer me, Anne!" he said. "What did you think you were doing?" 

Then his hand left her bottom for a moment, and she gave a little gasp, because she was sure she knew what would happen next, and then it did happen: Nele's hand came down hard upon her little bottom, and then it came down again, and again. Sir Nele, whom she had knighted with the stick, was spanking her bare backside.

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: "when I choose"

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

The day Mary forgot about the party, David came to the school where she taught high school English, and bent her over one of her students' chairs, and spanked her. He began with her panties still on, and punished her that way for a few minutes.

He had made her take off her grey skirt, of course, there in her classroom, but getting Mary's bottom nice and red before he bared it completely was important to him. Mary needed to feel that David, as her husband, had the right to spank her any way he wished, if he should decide that she needed to feel his firm hand.

And anywhere--for example, in her own classroom, when he found her there grading papers when she had promised to be home to get ready for the party.

David couldn't deny that to make Mary bend over a student's chair and present her naughty rump for punishment in the polka-dot panties he liked so much took some of his anger away. He still had enough left, though, that he wanted to make sure she remembered this spanking. As he took down the polka-dot panties he watched Mary kick her foot and heard her whimper in shame and fear at the thought that she would now have the rest of her spanking on the bare.

"Please, David," she said, "I've had enough. I'm sorry. Please don't take down my panties."

"I think not, darling," David said. "I'll take down your panties when I choose."

Image from Triple A Spanking via Spirit in Black of the Sensual BDSM Community.

Imperial fillies (What Emily is up to for 17 September 2014)

I'm having the best time writing something that I guess is turning into my unique version of pony-play, the way Caroline turned into my unique version of ageplay. Take a look:

"Filly Edera," he said, and she could tell that he meant "Princess Edera," and that he wanted to say "Princess Edera," and she loved him for it. "Get over my knee, now, or I shall have to put you there. You are going to learn a lesson, and I am going to teach it to you." 

Tearfully, at last, Edera obeyed, moving to stand between Lord Ranin's legs, and letting him topple her over his thigh, until her hands and her head hung down to the floor, and her toes just touched the straw on the other side, and her bottom, with its shameful tail, was raised up to confront Lord Ranin's gaze as the most prominent part of her--the part in which, currently, he had the most interest. She still wept, but her sobs came quietly now. 

Gently, he began to pull her tail out. "We must get your bottom ready, sweetheart," he said, softly. "Push for me, now." All the stable-men called the fillies "sweetheart," but when Lord Ranin said it to Edera, she always felt--though perhaps it was her imagination--that he meant it in a way that almost made her blush. How could he not, she asked herself, seeing as he had known her all her life? But whenever she heard him call her "sweetheart," her tummy seemed to flip-flop a little. 

Diapered polygamy, in tribute to Raya #Taboo2sday

Last week, Raya made my heart very glad with a lovely snippet from her story Diaper It, from the ultra-delicious Finishing School series. I need to share in kind.

After "Water Time," once the junior-wife was in her clean diaper, the continence-session could begin, and the shape of it was simple and elegant. She must wet that clean diaper in the presence of her husband and her senior-wife. Barbara also recommended that she be gagged with her own panties, so that when the time came for her to wet her diaper she would have to attract her husband's and senior's attention by childish tugs at the arm and gestures pointing at her diapered bottom; Barbara instructed the husband and senior to pretend not to understand, to increase the effectiveness of the lesson, and above all not to allow the junior to wet her diaper just when she wanted, but to make her wait, as a help to her in realizing the pleasure she could have in her submissive need to display her body as the property of her husband. Too, she advised that the girl be led back to the bathroom, and made to look at the toilet while she wet herself, while husband or senior caressed her through the diaper as she peed. 

Then, the girl with the wet diaper was made to do one or more household chores, still wearing the wet diaper. Vacuuming was a favorite choice, since it made the girl move around publicly clad only in the diaper. Finally, after an hour or so, usually, she was allowed to go back to the bathroom and clean herself up, though it was rare that her husband did not claim the privilege of watching her at this task, and then of putting her over the trestle for another stern lesson with cock or paddle or both. For purposes of especially severe discipline, Barbara recommended a caning or a whipping at this point, as the girl was generally well disposed to receive chastisement submissively and attractively then. On less severe occasions, she was of the opinion that a night in the senior-wife's bed could be salutary after a continence lesson, as juniors tended to be very eager to please their seniors and could often be taught new ways of pleasuring them, or at least seduced into kissing puss for hours on end.

Hmm. I guess I didn't reveal what "Water Time" is. You'll just have to read the Omnibus! 
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Next up: Her True Lord's Claim

Long time readers will fall over backwards to hear that this book features a hot medieval wedding-night, with all the D/s fixin's you may know from such things as A Song of Ice and Fire (aka Game of Thrones). This tease will probably tell you much of what you need to know. . .

Behind the deacon, Anne ascended the narrow steps, with Guy after her. Ahead of them, the knights took up a bawdy song, whose words were made up mostly of references with double meaning, to plowing and tilling, and whose refrain went, "To bed, to bed, we'll put them to bed: a field must be plowed when a fair maid is wed." Guy wished he could see Anne's face, but there would be time enough for that. 

At last they had reached the state bed-chamber--the chamber where, Guy was sure, Anne had herself been conceived. Richard of Mowton had not been the kind of man to fuck his wife outside the marriage bed. Guy took Anne's hand again, firmly and suddenly, and felt her shudder at his touch while he gathered her arm under his to lead her into the chamber.

There they stood behind the bishop, as he took from his deacon's hands first his miter and then his crozier. Holding the crozier in his left hand more like a sceptre than like the shepherd's crook it was supposed to represent, Bishop Hamo solemnly made the sign of the cross with his right. The episcopal ring that had come from Rome glittered in the light of the candles set about the chamber to illuminate what Guy could not help terming to himself the revels of his bride-night. Richard of Mowton had undoubtedly put out the candles' flames, at his bride's request, but Guy would leave them burning, the better to survey Anne's charms--and woe betide her bottom, should his own lovely bride protest that he shamed her thus, to see her unclothed.

Coming soon! If you can't stand to wait to read a medieval by Emily Tilton, try The Count's Discipline or Tamed by the Highlander! 

One of the more out-there whippings #SatSpanks

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: black bow in back

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

The panties with the black bow in back were reserved for those times when Paul felt like he wanted to unleash all the frustration of the day on Lisa, to let her feel him use her like the kind of toy a guy squeezes hard to relieve stress. Afterward, there would be cuddling, and tenderness, but sometimes on a weeknight, after a hard day, Paul wanted to play rough with his girl. Those nights, he called on his way home, and told her to put on the red panties with the black bow in the back.

Paul didn't really go in for spanking of the traditional over-lap naughty-girl kind, but he did love to give Lisa's ass the kind of smack that made her cry out in real pain, and left his handprint there. Sometimes a single spank like that did enough to get out his stress, and then he would rip the panties down and fuck her hard.

Often, though he found that he needed to position her lace-pantied cunt over his hard cock, with her facing away, showing him her delicious, reddened bottom, for a good long time. He did that even when he still had his jeans on, though he generally progressed from there very quickly, loosing his belt and pulling down the jeans, then tugging the red lace of the panties aside to expose her bare, wet cunt so that he could make Lisa ride him while he spanked her with his right hand, holding her hair in his left.

What did the black bow mean, really, Paul sometimes wondered. Why did he need to spank Lisa when she wore those panties, and why did he always want her to wear them when he spanked her? Lisa herself finally answered the question one night, after Paul had turned her ass bright red--as red as the panties--and then had her there, as she whimpered her submission to the hard cock that impaled her so deeply.

"Did you like your present, sir?" she asked.

Photo by apinfo.ru, via Paul Martin of the BDSM Prerogative community.

Emily goes riding! (What Emily is up to for 10 September 2014)

I guess I'm now thoroughly in this pattern of neglecting to sign up for the Wednesday work-in-progress hop and then feeling like it's a pretty fun thing to do. Today's another installment.

So my next book is going to be a pretty big departure: medieval pony-play! Here's a little foreshadowing:

"Do not fear, my erstwhile princess," the emperor said. "You--and your ladies-in-waiting--shall have fucking enough, in the stables of my capital." 

Eloise did not even know what the word meant, but Alice's gasp and her knights' shouts of objection told her that the emperor had just insulted them beyond anything she had ever imagined. Sir Leonard jumped to his feet. "Your Imperial Majesty," he said in a voice full of fury that seemed the greater because of the fathomless shame Eloise knew he must feel, "you have already proven yourself a treasonous coward. Do you wish to go down also as an obscene beast? How can you use such language to Her Highness? How can you?" 

"Oh, you Norman knights are even more amusing than one hears. You really are like the toy knights my boys play with. They are always saying things when they play like 'How can you insult me thus?' and 'Thou art a knave! Avaunt!'. And here I have a real live toy Norman knight." 

Eloise looked at Sir Leonard, and saw that his face had turned purple. He started forward, as if to grapple with the emperor, but Comininus side-stepped neatly, and tripped the knight. Sir Leonard went down to the grass in an ungainly heap. Then he turned back to Eloise. "Do you see the figure, my lady? Your toy knight here may stand for your little realm. I have tripped you, even more neatly than I thought I could. And now you, like poor Sir You-Have-Proven-Yourself-a-Treasonous-Coward here, will fall. I fear, though, that when it is your shapely naked backside I see, as you lie on your belly, rather than this poor fellow's mail-covered arse, I shall fuck you much more literally than I have fucked him today. I regret to tell you that there will be no imperial wedding for you--but an imperial bedding: that I can provide, with a good will and a firm purpose."

In other news, the medieval about the villainous husband and the girl who can't help how much his cruelty arouses her is in the pipeline. And then there are all those books that came out in the last month, too--you can find them on my Amazon page. Every one of them is very naughty. 

Pseudo-religious sister-wife polyamory #Taboo2sday

You'd better bet that's EXPLORATIONS by Emily Tilton. What else could it be?

"Don't fuss, now," said Barbara. 

"Mmmm" said Martha. 

All strength seemed to be gone from Susan's legs, and she helplessly allowed Martha to open her, spreading her thighs wide. "Hold your knees open, dear," said Barbara, and Susan obeyed, unable to think of doing anything but what she was told. 

"Mmmmmm." 

"Oh. . . oh. . . what. . . oh, no. . ." 

"What Martha is doing is called 'tasting peach'," murmured Barbara. "When you do the same to us, it's called 'kissing puss', because we are your seniors, and we have our hair there since you do not. We will taste your peach sometimes, when you've been very good, but from now on, when you're not in Chuck's bed, you'll be with us, kissing puss."

It's in the Omnibus! Buy it here!

More wonderful, taboo delights below!

One of the naughty Victorian bits

I thought I'd celebrate the arrival of the Omnibus and Part 2 with a caning by the Prince of Wales, Bertie aka Edward VII.

"Now Mrs. Wilkes," said his Highness, "you must understand, of course, that I need not find a specific pretext upon which to cane you, since as a Knight of the Garter it is my prerogative to exercise rights of discipline upon any lady in the realm; this particular right may be one of which you have not been made aware?" 

"I can hardly say it surprises me, your Highness," I replied calmly. 

"As I say, then, I need not find a pretext. But it is also important that you gain the improvement from this chastisement that such chastisement must always be directed towards procuring. I do not cane young ladies unless it be for their own good." 

I was successful, at this, in suppressing a smile. I could not imagine Edmund making any similar declaration. Indeed, one of his favorite things was to punish me for no reason whatsoever except the general naughtiness of my air. Nor, on such occasions, did he say anything about the possibility of my being improved--that is, I suppose, being relieved of some of my naughtiness--by the process. It would be especially interesting to learn how the prince would move from improving me by the application of the cane to enjoying me--always assuming of course that such enjoyment made a part of his plans. It is very wanton of me I suppose, but although I blush to confess it I must say that the charm of his royal authority was working its aphrodisiac magic upon me. His Highness was a relatively handsome man, but much more importantly he demonstrated, in every insouciant gesture and naughty word, the extremity of his temporal power. I found that my loins were responding to this power in ways I had not imagined they might. 

"We must, then," he continued, "discover why it is you shall now be caned. Have you perhaps anything to confess?" 

I could of course think of many things, but his Highness did not leave me space to confess them, but continued, growing almost comically stern in his manner, "For instance, I very much suspect that you are the kind of girl who is unable to resist the temptation to touch her private part from time to time." 

My body knew its role. I blushed deeply. Something in his manner made me suspect that the scene would go better if I remained mute.

Buy Part 2 here! Buy the Omnibus here! 

OMNIBUS!!! 600pp of the finest BDSM smut anywhwere!

I finally did it. EXPLORATIONS is complete, and now available in one 227,000-word package, for the low, low price of $9.99.

Here's the blurb:

Here it is. The whole darned thing. Look on other, individual pages for the descriptions. Probably, if you're an Emily Tilton fan, by this time you know what you're getting, and in this package you're getting a LOT of it. 227,000 words, and I promise you'll be astonished how very many of them are pure erotica. Move over, Sade. 

These books of Explorations contain fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, MMff, MMMf, MMMMf (no sex among M's, at any time--sorry), FFFf, ffff, Mff, Mfff, Mffff, Mffffff, anal, spanking, King James language pseudo-religious erotica, sister-wives doing the kind of thing naughty minds really want sister-wives to do, exhibitionist sex athletics, diaperplay, ageplay. Stuff that doesn't even have an abbreviation or a name, because it's too hot and shameful. Spanking, whipping, caning, flogging. 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.

Buy the EXPLORATIONS Omnibus on Amazon by clicking here! 

I also released Part 2, in case you were nice enough to buy Part 1--at $5.99 still a major savings! Click here!

In case you always wondered, omnibus, from which get our word for a big vehicle that carries lots of people--that is, originally, an (omni)bus--means "for everyone" or "with everything." This omnibus is both!

Yup, the church-spanking scene #SatSpanks

Why not? It's what makes this unique book unique.

After he had helped her back to a kneeling position, Charles said, "When you have done as much of your penance as you find helpful, you may go. I'll see you Sunday, and you should be prepared to go to the room of penance after Mass." He took the little sheet of instructions from where he had enfolded it at the back of his prayer book and put it on the prayer desk. "These instructions will guide you in how to dress and what to do." 

With the aid of the matrons of the church, Charles had written the instructions himself, and as he walked back to his office he remembered them, thinking, despite himself, about Laura Standish's panties, and what her bottom would look like positioned over the penitent's bench, and how it would look after Jim Percy had applied fifty lashes to it with the church strap. 

In the room of penance, you will be whipped with the church strap upon your bottom, while still wearing your underwear. This punishment will be given you in love, by one of the heads of household of the parish: he or she will not know your identity, and you will not know his or hers. 

Please be sure, when you are dressing for church on a day on which you must go to the room of penance, that you wear modest underwear; if you are found to be wearing inappropriate underwear, you will be given more modest underwear and sent to the lavatory to change into it.

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Visual inspirations for spanking stories: body-stocking

(See here for an explanation of this series and here for an index to it.)
As soon as Kelly saw the mesh-lace body-stocking with the beautiful floral pattern, she knew she was in terrible trouble. So when Mistress led Hope into the bedroom, dressed in the special leather that meant Mistress had chosen her to administer punishment, Kelly wasn't surprised--but that didn't mean she was any less scared of what Hope would do with the flogger she held in her right hand.

"Kelly," said Mistress, "You are to strip down to your bra and panties, and put on the body-stocking. Hope will whip you now, because you seem unable to learn in any other way that I expect my girls to be on time for their appointments. Mrs. Klett is a very important executive, and a very important client, and you kept her waiting for half an hour. Tell me, what does a body-stocking like this one symbolize in my establishment?"

"It means that a girl belongs to you, mistress," Kelly whispered.

"Why do I always dress my girls in body-stockings to punish them?"

"To make us feel that we are owned."

"Prepare for your punishment, then," Mistress said. Silently, Kelly began to obey.

"Hope?"

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Once you get over her, I want the rear of the stocking wide open, and then I want those panties down. Play with the anus before you start to flog the bottom--three fingers in there, please. Our Kelly needs to understand why my body-stockings are open in back."

(Image via Maritza Rivas of the BDSM Prerogative Community.)

The devil for a husband (What Emily is up to for 3 September)

In the spirit of Wednesday, here's a bit from my work-in-progress, Her True Lord's Hand:

"Not only," he said, "must you be punished regularly for the crimes of your father and his father, it appears, but it seems to me now that I must also punish you for your whorish nature." 

"What?" Anne whispered. The shock in that whisper made the lust in Guy's loins, which had abated as he tried to understand his bride's behavior, return tenfold. 

"Yes, my dear," Guy said. Knowing that he had conceived this plan on the fly, in an instant, made the moment of telling it all the more delicious. "Your pleasure in my touch is not such as a noble bride, a countess, should feel. When I find you wet, I will chastise you. You shall lift your skirts when I command it, and I shall inspect your cunt for signs of wantonness. When I find them, your backside will pay for your whorish pleasures." 

"Oh, my lord. . . you cannot. . . I. . ." She gave vent to a storm of weeping, which served to make Guy all the harder.  

"I can and I will, and I shall begin now." He took the birch up again, and rose to stand behind her. 

Other things:

• An ageplay collaboration is coming soon!
• I'm pretty sure the Caroline box-set will appear at some point. . . 
• If religion and spanking are a thing for you, go get Father Charles Takes a Wife, for goodness' sake! 

Priest/penitent #Taboo2sday

I know I've hit a potent taboo when I make even myself feel uncomfortable. That's what writing Father Charles Takes a Wife was all about, really. Let me just give you a bit that I had to re-write several times. . .

"My child," Charles said, "have you been considering your sinful nature?" 

The question clearly surprised her, but only for a moment. Laura said, "Yes, Father." 

Instinctively, Charles did not reply immediately, and only a moment later, Laura went on, "I am a very wicked girl aren't I?" 

"What makes you so wicked?" Charles asked. 

"Well… I didn't obey you earlier tonight." 

"Yes, that's right," Charles prompted. "And so I spanked you." 

"And… I sucked your cock, Father."

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More wonderful, taboo delights below!