EXPLORATIONS by Emily Tilton: Jaye Peaches comes to visit for Emily's Questions!

I'm so happy to have my friend Jaye over--especially since she just published a historical about an absolutely fascinating time in English history!

Why do you write?

It’s always been there, my love of writing, probably since a small kid when I wrote badly spelt poetry. My first book was scrawled in an exercise book when I was eleven (all gone unfortunately), others I plotted out, but remained trapped in my head throughout my adolescence. My kids love to write and I come from a book loving family, so I guess it’s in the genes.

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?)

This is a favourite scenario of mine - the desert island, so I’d probably fantasise about it while I’m surrounded by palm trees and crashing waves. I’m there, unable to escape and in the company of some strapping Dom with a strap and a mischievous grin. Lots of hot sex too, warm sun and no clothes. Not especially original, but what the heck, I live in a cold country.

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?

Personally, I think we’re born with a blueprint of who we are and what we have the potential to be and that blueprint can be alter a little or a lot according to the environment we grow up in. I’m a spanko from birth type, but it is only in recent years, since I met other spankos, that I’ve had the opportunity to see that side of me fully. Writing about spankings helps me come to terms with that ‘orientation’. As for BDSM, it is a broad collection of practices and incorporates many things that can be innate or gained through experience. I can imagine fantasies wrapped around those practices, but kink is way too complex to sum up as one or the other. My answer gives me some peace of mind that I’m not a freak of nature, but on the other hand, many in mainstream society will see me that way regardless.

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

I’m not one for favourites, I drift in my preferences according to my moods. However, I loved creating Gemma and Jason (you can’t have one without the other). They’re pure fantasy in terms of kink (domination and submission primarily) and the setting of the book, which is the wealthy ‘they can do anything they like’ scenario, but I know from readers their relationship has a real-life edge to it, which is identifiable and endearing.

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

Argh, just one? It would have to Francis Crawford of Lymond. A historical character from Dorothy Dunnett’s six book series set in Tudor Europe. He’s the epitome of the enigmatic hero - sexy, but flawed genius who nobody truly understands. Rather Dom-like in nature, sometimes cold and stern, but always underneath it, very passionate. Yummy.

An excerpt from In Enemy Hands

Daniel has revealed his true feelings towards Hester, his enemy and the woman he has kept captive in her own home. She has tried to escape and before he can honour his love, he must punish her and start afresh.

What should he do? The question spun out of control in his head. The answer—have her locked up out of sight while he returned to the business of warfare—failed to take hold. The sight of her rounded breasts, the rise and fall of her erect nipples, did nothing to help curtail his inappropriate cravings. Hester was his enemy and the daughter of a renowned Royalist. Ever since his arrival, she’d played him at a game. Smiling, chatting away at the dining table, then, behind his back, plotting and defying his orders. How could he trust her to do as he commanded?

The answer lay in her eyes. They sparkled under the canopy of the bed. The trembling fingers unfastening her corset worked frantically to undress. Whatever she might say aloud to him, her true emotions appeared to have betrayed her. It was as if she wanted him to spank her, make her vulnerable and open to him. How would he hold back and resist taking her? His manhood stiffened, expecting relief. It had been months since his last acquaintance had offered him respite. The meagre homestead of a young woman he’d frequented and the thought of those tumbles between the sheets made him ashamed. Now, faced with a beautiful woman of worthy status, he rapidly succumbed to baser instincts.

Daniel rose from the bed and stepped away, giving Hester room to disrobe. She stumbled as she stepped out of her chemise and removed her undergarments. She locked her hands around the bedpost, gripping it as if her life depended on the support and turned away from him. Her naked sex tucked out of sight, she squashed her thighs together and bowed her head.

He grasped her hips and pulled her bottom back, forcing her to bend at the waist. As she did, her buttocks parted. He sucked in a deep breath and removed his gaze from her gleaming cleft. “You must remain still.”

“I do not know if I can,” she whispered, continuing to cling to the bedpost.

Daniel loosened the sash about his waist and bound it about her wrists. She gaped at him as he drew her hands together, but she said nothing. He tied the other end of the sash to the bedpost. He stood back, admiring her pose; he noted her small stature, the rounded lobes of her fine rear, how her calves twitched and her nimble feet fidgeted on the rug.

She glanced over her shoulder, and a pair of wary eyes stared at him. “I might scream.”

“The servants will know you are being punished. It will do them no harm to think so.” He fretted that they would think him too harsh, but there again it was necessary to keep the appearance of a tyrant to help maintain order. His soldiers would expect it and war meant oppression; whether he liked the notion or not, it had to be demonstrated.

“Am I being punished?” she asked.

Daniel didn’t answer. To say yes would mean he had to crush her, make her bawl and cry at him, beg him to stop, and ensure the occupants of the house knew exactly what was taking place in her chamber. If he said no, what was the purpose of his spanking? He flexed his right hand, preparing himself for the first slap of his rigid palm and contemplated the trembling Hester.

He had to make her demure and contrite, pleasing to his eyes. A well-delivered spanking would exonerate her behaviour, enable him to approach her and give her solace. It came to him there, as he raised his hand ready to strike her pale skin, how much he desired her and the impression she’d made on him in such a short space of time. His puritanical upbringing could no longer hold him back.

He smacked her upraised bottom and she jolted forward, her shoulder knocking into the post. No sound came from her mouth, only a sharp gasp of breath. He swept back his arm, aimed at the other cheek, and swung his hand upwards, colliding with quivering flesh. The sound echoed around the wooden panels and she emitted another audible exhale. He spied the whites of her knuckles tightening their grip on the wooden support.

Daniel focused his attention on her rump, the curves and contours, the splendid cleft and what lay within it. Her legs parted, as she shuffled, dancing about in reply to his smacks. To keep her still, he rested a hand on the small of her back and pressed her down, preventing her from jumping up. He continued to spank her.

As he spanked Hester, her bottom turned from alabaster to the colour of ripe tomatoes. Her attempts at remaining quiet failed and she began to cry out. Muted at first, then louder as she fought to remain in position. Her knees started to buckle and he looped his arm under her waist, drawing her back up and leaning her against his own hip. With her held in place, he picked up his pace but reduced the power behind his slaps. She stamped her feet on the floor and shrieked with each smack.

Her crimson behind emitted heat and he ceased spanking. Holding her steady, he rubbed her cheeks in circles. His own hand smarted with the blows and he took pleasure in caressing his palm on each buttock. Without thinking, he trailed a finger down between her bottom cheeks and between her folds. She moaned and he considered it a resplendent sound to accompany his findings. Her slit was slippery and her sex lips swollen.

Keeping a firm grip on her waist, he fumbled with his breeches and released his stiff cock. It sprang upright and he pressed it into her crevice, while kicking her legs farther apart with his foot.

“Daniel!” She spun her head round and her eyes widened.

Blurb

When the rest of her household flees the family estate during the English Civil War, Hester Cavell, a proud Royalist supporter, stays behind hoping to protect her home. Unfortunately for Hester, she quickly finds that she is no match for a troop of Parliamentarian dragoons, led by Captain Daniel Hasard. Once the dragoons take control of her house, Daniel lets Hester stay with her servants, but he warns her that he will punish her severely if she causes any trouble.

Despite Daniel’s warning, it isn’t long before Hester risks her safety and attempts to sabotage his troops, earning her a long, hard switching on her bare bottom. But as the weeks pass, she begins to realize that the man behind the enemy uniform is loving, intelligent, and kind, and she can’t help but grow more and more attracted to him. Daniel returns Hester’s affection, and while they remain enemies by day to protect her reputation, they soon become passionate lovers by night.

Not wanting the servants to guess at their games, Hester continues to make a pretence at mischief, and Daniel continues to punish her sternly. But when a servant at last finds out the truth of their relationship, will it bring an end to their newfound romance, or will Daniel cast aside politics and allegiances and ask for her hand in marriage?

Publisher’s Note: In Enemy Hands is an erotic novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.