Visually inspired: bow in back

(See here for an index to this series.)


Something was happening back there, at the small of her back, where the waistband of the lace panties held Cindy in its elastic grip: the attendant Jim had sent was fixing something, or arranging something. . .

"What are you doing?" Cindy asked.

The attendant didn't answer, at first.

"What are you doing?!"

The attendant stopped tying the bow, to give Cindy a hard spank across both cheeks, just where the little thong disappeared into the bridal bottom. Cindy cried out at the sting, and at the terrible indignity of the whole affair. 

She couldn't believe that Jim had actually decided that she should have to wear these shameful things to be married in, that he had sent these attendants to get her ready. When they had arrived, she had called him to protest, but he had said, "Yes, Cindy--you agreed to wear whatever I want you to wear, remember? Just like you agreed that you would learn to please me with your body. Those attendants are there to get you ready to be my wife, and to serve me in my bed."

The attendant spanked her three more times, then said, "I'm tying a little bow here, to make your bottom a gift for the man who will enjoy it tonight." 

"Oh, no," whispered Cindy, imagining what it looked like. In front of her, the older woman, the seamstress who had seemed so proper, who had come to lay out the sheer gown Jim had chosen, looked her in the eye, and said, "Such a pretty little bottom, dear. I'm sure he'll ride you hard there tonight."

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. 

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 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. 

A very scottish orgasm: Tamed by the Highlander

I adore my hero and heroine in Tamed by the Highlander: trying to write the beginning of their erotic life together in a style that felt authentic to the 16th Century was a marvelous challenge. The vocabulary had to be a little oblique, and feel old, but as I wrote it, it felt hot to me nevertheless.

The feeling of his yard pulsing inside her seemed to make Elisabeth wilder even than she had been. She cried out, loud, and her head threshed from side to side upon the mattress with pleasure she could not hide from him despite her shame. Angus felt her whole little body push with all its force against him, as if in one last attempt to throw him from his seat inside her cunt. 

To no avail, to be sure, because now, as he felt the last drops of a pleasure so extreme--indeed, so violent--that he felt his own frame must come apart, he would not let his little bride throw him by any means. Her struggles seemed only to heighten that cruel pleasure that he could never resist once he entered into it. But when she felt herself so thoroughly mastered, it seemed; when she knew past any doubt that Angus would no more let her go than he would fail to collar a straying sheep upon the hillside--then that tense body under his seemed to glow with heat, and Elisabeth gave a new kind of cry, one that Angus had never heard before. It sounded, he thought, though the thought seemed passing strange, like the cry of a highland eagle, circling high above the moors. Her eyes had been closed as he had deflowered her, and as he had fucked her harder and harder, but now they flew open, and Angus was absolutely sure that he could see love, and a desire as deep as the great loch, in them. Her arms reached up and twined themselves around his, and her hands gripped his shoulders convulsively, with a strength that surprised him greatly, as her back arched up and off the mattress, and then she fell back again, limp beneath him.

Here's the blurb (buy the book here!):

When raiders fall upon Urquhart Castle, Elisabeth Grant, the daughter of the castle’s lord—a highlander by birth, but educated in the lowlands—is left defenseless when her cowardly father abandons her. At the last moment, her life and her maidenhead are saved from the raiders by Angus MacGregor, the proud highlander she had only hours earlier ordered locked in the pillory for his insolence toward her.  

Vowing that she will see her home rise from the ruins after the attack, Elisabeth resolves to stay as close to the castle as possible. With her father and his soldiers gone, however, she has nowhere to turn for protection except to the highlander who so recently rescued her. When Angus informs her that he has no interest in a ward or a servant, she impetuously offers to wed the uncouth, yet undeniably brave and handsome highlander whose firm words and strong arms both terrify and excite her.  

Angus agrees to marry Elisabeth on one condition: she will serve and obey him as a proper wife should, and if she fails in her duties, she will be soundly spanked. She agrees to his condition, but when she surrenders to his touch one moment and defies him the next, his desire for her only grows fiercer. Though it quickly becomes clear she will not yield without a fight—and a taste of his leather strap upon her bare bottom—he soon discovers she is like no woman he has ever known, as being chastised until she is writhing and begging only increases her lust for him.  

But when her father returns to rebuild the ruins of Urquhart even as the threat of another assault on the castle looms, Angus wonders whether Elisabeth will abandon him and return to the life of a noble lady. Even if she stays by his side, will their newly forged bond be shattered in the heat of battle, or will their love and courage be enough to withstand the swords of the marauders? 

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

What more needs to be said, when I can put a picture of a man in a plaid here for your viewing pleasure? Here's a sneak peek:

"There are ranks, and there are stations--" 

"Ranks and stations, lass? I'll show you ranks and stations!" He took the hand he had around her shoulders and grabbed her around the waist. He dragged her back into the barn, looking about for what he very quickly saw: an unstacked hay-bale, ready to be broken up and used for fodder. He walked her briskly over there as she recovered from her initial shock at his man-handling and began to struggle and to say "Let me go! You have no right to touch me, man! I am the Lady of Urquhart!" 

"Aye, Lady of a ruin, now, girl. Count yourself lucky that you have a MacGregor here with you in this lonely barn, and not a MacDonald. If it were Ian MacDonald here with you, the spanking I'm going to give you would be the least of your worries."

Here's the blurb (buy the book here!):

When raiders fall upon Urquhart Castle, Elisabeth Grant, the daughter of the castle’s lord—a highlander by birth, but educated in the lowlands—is left defenseless when her cowardly father abandons her. At the last moment, her life and her maidenhead are saved from the raiders by Angus MacGregor, the proud highlander she had only hours earlier ordered locked in the pillory for his insolence toward her.  

Vowing that she will see her home rise from the ruins after the attack, Elisabeth resolves to stay as close to the castle as possible. With her father and his soldiers gone, however, she has nowhere to turn for protection except to the highlander who so recently rescued her. When Angus informs her that he has no interest in a ward or a servant, she impetuously offers to wed the uncouth, yet undeniably brave and handsome highlander whose firm words and strong arms both terrify and excite her.  

Angus agrees to marry Elisabeth on one condition: she will serve and obey him as a proper wife should, and if she fails in her duties, she will be soundly spanked. She agrees to his condition, but when she surrenders to his touch one moment and defies him the next, his desire for her only grows fiercer. Though it quickly becomes clear she will not yield without a fight—and a taste of his leather strap upon her bare bottom—he soon discovers she is like no woman he has ever known, as being chastised until she is writhing and begging only increases her lust for him.  

But when her father returns to rebuild the ruins of Urquhart even as the threat of another assault on the castle looms, Angus wonders whether Elisabeth will abandon him and return to the life of a noble lady. Even if she stays by his side, will their newly forged bond be shattered in the heat of battle, or will their love and courage be enough to withstand the swords of the marauders? 

My special kind of discipline: EXPLORATIONS 25-28

I stealth-released the latest collection of EXPLORATIONS last week. Now that I'm no longer completely in charge of my own release-schedule, things have gotten a bit crazy, and I just wanted it to be out there, since those books had been around quite a while. Anyway, here's a tease and a link!

Here's how it begins, after the usual frontmatter:

As he had promised, in recompense for failing to tell him about my great-great-grandmother's notebook, and for masturbating while reading it, Charles followed the terrible caning he had administered to my backside with an example of what in our household goes by the name "ass-lesson." As you may remember, I had wet the bed during my caning, and so I had to change the sheets as an extra-humiliating part of the preparation for the final part of my punishment (final for now, of course, because it seemed I still had a bathroom-punishment coming for the deception, as opposed to the self-abuse).

Finally, though, arrayed in my special white lace panties, with the special bolster used for these lessons under my hips, I awaited my husband. Sometimes Charles would spend a long time preparing my anus with various toys, but that night he was much more peremptory. He came silently into the room, while I, according to my training, kept my face to the sheet, awaiting his justice. I usually had to prepare the bed for my ass-lesson by removing all the covers--a wonderfully degrading duty in and of itself--but of course the same purpose was served on this occasion by making it up for now only with the pink fitted sheet which was now against my brow, and nose, and mouth. Then Charles simply hooked one finger into the back of my panties, and pulled them aside, and presented his lubed manhood at my rectum. 

"Let me in, you bad girl," he said, softly, and leaned forward, putting his hands possessively on the bolster, on either side of my hips. 

I gave the little sob I always seem to give when I have to let a penis go where penises shouldn't go, and pushed the way I knew bad girls who give ass push, and then my husband was where he wanted to be, to teach me a lesson about pleasure and my body, and about his lordship over me. In keeping with his displeasure about my deception and my self-abuse, he rode my bottom hard that evening. When I cried out, he said, "Take it, you bad girl. You thought you could steal your pleasure from me. Will you do that again?" 

"No!" I cried. And he came, and I was left wanting.

So what else is new? You know me, right? Here's the place to buy. And here's the blurb:

Emily's Morning: The 25th book of Explorations finds fantasy-Emily having the stern final portion of her punishment for self-abuse, while in the old notebook she has been so naughtily reading, Victorian Emily finds herself in disciplinary trouble for much the same crime. Mrs. Smith, trainer of young brides, is forced to administer a chastisement that she hopes will finally teach her newest pupil something important about her life as a submissive wife.  

Emily's Fitting: In the 26th book of Explorations, fantasy-Emily, now with her husband's permission (provided she can keep herself from auto-erotic temptation) continues to read of her great-great-grandmother's initiation as a submissive bride into a Great Drama of BDSM in Victorian England.  

Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber: In the 27th book of Explorations, as the story of fantasy-Emily's connection with Prophettown gathers a frightening sort of momentum, the story of Victorian Emily's wedding-night also comes to its crisis point.  

Emily, Bedded: The 28th book of Explorations tells, in parallel, the stories of the narrator's ancestress' bride-night with her dominant husband and of the beginning of the narrator's fantasy-avatar's night with three of her husband's junior-colleagues, as a prize awarded for exemplary performance.  

These books of Explorations contain fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, Ff, MMMf (no sex among the Ms), FFFf, anal, spanking, 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. 

Defloration, the BDSM way: The Bride's Ordeal

The sad reality is that one only gets to be deflowered once, and most of the time (certainly this was true for me) it's not especially memorable. That's where the power of fiction comes in, as in The Bride's Ordeal, just released!

So with a firm uxorial hand, he gave her nine more spanks in quick succession as she screamed and sobbed in shame and frustration. 

As he did so, he said, in a tone of outrage, "What did you see, you bad girl? What smut did you read? How could you, a virgin bride in a white wedding gown, be so wicked?" 

The ten spanks were over. There was a moment of quiet; then Emily gave a little whimper.

"Oh, please. . . Charles. . . oh please. . . now. . " 

He ripped off his dressing gown 

"Wh. . .what are you doing?" 

"Did you see people fucking, on your pornos?" 

She gasped. "Y--yes, sir." 

"Well, that's what we're going to do now. Get ready, Emily Tilton, because your husband is about to take your maidenhead."

And the blurb. . . buy the book here! 

As he waited for Emily to emerge from the bathroom, Charles Smith contemplated the night, and the week, ahead. He had anticipated this moment for so many weeks, in mingled expectation of her resisting his dark desires and perhaps-not-unfounded hope that she might welcome them, that he now felt the need for some reflection as to just how to bring her around to do the things he had so long fantasized requiring of her. 

The first volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the story of the BDSM wedding-night and honeymoon I always wanted, from shamefully pleasuring myself in the bathroom of the honeymoon-suite to paying a terrible price for that pleasure at the hands of my husband Charles. Mf, ff, anal, spanking. 

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, anal, caning, spanking. It's intended for over-18 audiences who, like me, are interested in exploring the lines between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, and fantasy and reality. All characters depicted are consenting adults. 

This book is the first volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night; Emily's First Submission; Emily's First Spanking; Emily's Second Submission; Emily's Dark Gift; Emily's First Caning; Emily's Little Trainer; Emily, Ravished by Porn; EXPLORATIONS: Books 1-5; and EXPLORATIONS: Part 1 (Books 1-16). 

A spanko's dream wedding-night #SatSpanks

. . . or at least that's what I was trying for in the books of EXPLORATIONS that I'm re-releasing in a revised edition this week. The new title for these books is The Bride's Ordeal, and, unsurprisingly I suppose, fantasy-me is getting spanked in this snippet.

Then Charles put his hand on his bride's bottom for the first time--not with a spank (yet) but with a tender, possessive caress that suspended both of the eighteen-year old peaches on the four fingers of his right hand. It was the most heavenly thing he had ever felt. 

He squatted behind her and looked at her bottom, hardly believing that this was real: Emily's bottom, Emily's ass, presented to him. The plump little cheeks, pink with her blush of shame, the beautiful lacy thong running between them, covering her girlish secrets. It was almost too much for him, and he felt a little light-headed looking at her bottom while her face was buried in the couch cushions. 

And not just the sight, for he could tell now that Emily was wet, and he could smell her wetness, and it fired his blood as nothing in his fantasies ever had. 

But Emily cried out as if he had spanked her. 

"Ahhhh! Oh, please! Charles, please! D--don't. . ."

Blurb! Buy it here!

As he waited for Emily to emerge from the bathroom, Charles Smith contemplated the night, and the week, ahead. He had anticipated this moment for so many weeks, in mingled expectation of her resisting his dark desires and perhaps-not-unfounded hope that she might welcome them, that he now felt the need for some reflection as to just how to bring her around to do the things he had so long fantasized requiring of her. 

The first volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the story of the BDSM wedding-night and honeymoon I always wanted, from shamefully pleasuring myself in the bathroom of the honeymoon-suite to paying a terrible price for that pleasure at the hands of my husband Charles. Mf, ff, anal, spanking. 

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, anal, caning, spanking. It's intended for over-18 audiences who, like me, are interested in exploring the lines between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, and fantasy and reality. All characters depicted are consenting adults.

This book is the first volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night; Emily's First Submission; Emily's First Spanking; Emily's Second Submission; Emily's Dark Gift; Emily's First Caning; Emily's Little Trainer; Emily, Ravished by Porn; EXPLORATIONS: Books 1-5; and EXPLORATIONS: Part 1 (Books 1-16). 

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

That very special first: cover-reveal plus #CorbinsBend

The cover of the first book of the second edition is a detail from Frederic Leighton's "Godspeed!"

A first spanking is a very special moment for any spanko, I think, both at the time and then later, in ever-living remembrance. I know my actual first spanking certainly was, and I tried to dramatize it for my fantasy-avatar to make it special for her, and for the reader, too.

Charles studied her downcast face where she knelt at the side of his legs, her pink-white shoulders, and saw where they were going. 

"Emily, is this your obedience?" 

She shook her head, still looking at her hands and his, in his lap. 

"Emily, if you will not tell me what I asked, there is nothing else for it. You must be punished. You must lie over the arm of the sofa, Emily, and learn a lesson." 

"Oh, Charles! Oh, sir! Oh. . . p--please. . . P--please don't. . . d--don't spank me. . ." 

"If you will not obey me, my dear, I have no choice. Now lay yourself down, and don't make a fuss. A grown-up girl like you needs to learn what happens when she disobeys her husband." 

Emily was shaking all over, but with only a slight hesitation she arose, in her pink nakedness and her lacy panties, and lay herself over the sofa-arm.

And what would a book post be without a blurb?

As he waited for Emily to emerge from the bathroom, Charles Smith contemplated the night, and the week, ahead. He had anticipated this moment for so many weeks, in mingled expectation of her resisting his dark desires and perhaps-not-unfounded hope that she might welcome them, that he now felt the need for some reflection as to just how to bring her around to do the things he had so long fantasized requiring of her. 

The first volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the story of the BDSM wedding-night and honeymoon I always wanted, from shamefully pleasuring myself in the bathroom of the honeymoon-suite to paying a terrible price for that pleasure at the hands of my husband Charles. Mf, ff, anal, spanking. 

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, anal, caning, spanking. It's intended for over-18 audiences who, like me, are interested in exploring the lines between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, and fantasy and reality. All characters depicted are consenting adults. 

This book is the first volume of the second edition of EXPLORATIONS. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night; Emily's First Submission; Emily's First Spanking; Emily's Second Submission; Emily's Dark Gift; Emily's First Caning; Emily's Little Trainer; Emily, Ravished by Porn; EXPLORATIONS: Books 1-5; and EXPLORATIONS: Part 1 (Books 1-16). 

And the Corbin's Bend tease. . . let's pull this from Professor John Dunn's perspective, as a co-ed tempts him beyond all reason. . .

Sitting there in his office, with Sarah, her hand still on his lap because she apparently hadn't thought to remove it, waiting for the correct moment to answer her question ("Sir. . . what do you mean?") in the wake of the incredible surge of arousal he had felt when she had actually called him "Sir," he thought back to how excited he had been when the Rector of the little parish had said "And, since you're a Head of Household, I'll need to familiarize you with our practice of penitential spanking; it usually makes sense for a new HoH to witness one of the single girls' sessions. Are you free after coffee-hour this Sunday?"

And a bonus Corbin's Bend hint. . . Happy birthday, Lazy Day!

Rebooting EXPLORATIONS. . . The Bride's Ordeal, forthcoming

I'll admit to not knowing whether this makes the slightest bit of sense, but, as promised, I'm going to do a second edition of EXPLORATIONS, divided up differently and without the confusing numbers and multiply multiple titles. Also, there will be some editorial refinements to make the whole thing a little easier to understand and digest.

Also, my eyes will definitely be green.

The first release of the second edition, in a week or so, will be The Bride's Ordeal, which corresponds to Books 1-8 of the first edition, and takes fantasy-me through my wedding-night and honeymoon, ending with the fun little Perseus and Andromeda role-play that shows that we're back home in Greenwich, being kinky. My biggest worry is that someone will buy something s/he already has, and get mad, so I'll try to label very carefully, but if you should happen to have any questions about what bits of the story can be found where, please let me know!

Here's one of my favorite excerpts from The Bride's Ordeal to whet your appetite:

The thong had a silk strap that went between my bottom-cheeks and came up against my bottom's little flower. It had a front made completely of ivory lace, and a pink bow over the place where my bare lips began. My pussy was for my husband, now. It was the kind of thought I'd had before Story of O, so I have to say in retrospect that I was by my own standards pretty obtuse not to recognize that my need for, frankly, anal domination was an existential thing. 

So the porn was porn, and although it led to me kneeling naked in front of my best friend, while she held up her tennis skirt and dared me to pull down her panties and kiss her pussy, if I was serious about us being special friends (Sarah was clearly curious but in need of reassurance that I wasn't mocking or entrapping her), and although that little scene in the shower led to a wild afternoon locked in her bedroom, the two of us naked in front of her computer as we shared our favorites and imitated the girls on the screen; although all of that occurred and I went home from Sarah's with my newly-shaved pussy feeling strange and sore in my blue cotton panties--nevertheless I wasn't going to tell Charles.

And, without further ado, the stunning revelation of. . . the BLURB!

As he waited for Emily to emerge from the bathroom, Charles Smith contemplated the night, and the week, ahead. He had anticipated this moment for so many weeks, in mingled expectation of her resisting his dark desires and perhaps-not-unfounded hope that she might welcome them, that he now felt the need for some reflection as to just how to bring her around to do the things he had so long fantasized requiring of her. 

The first volume of the second edition of Explorations tells the story of the BDSM wedding-night and honeymoon I always wanted, from shamefully pleasuring myself in the bathroom of the honeymoon-suite to paying a terrible price for that pleasure at the hands of my husband Charles. Mf, ff, anal, spanking. 

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, ff, anal, caning, spanking. It's intended for over-18 audiences who, like me, are interested in exploring the lines between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, and fantasy and reality. All characters depicted are consenting adults. 

This book is the first volume of the second edition of Explorations. It contains a revision of material previously released as all or part of the following books: Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night; Emily's First Submission; Emily's First Spanking; Emily's Second Submission; Emily's Dark Gift; Emily's First Caning; Emily's Little Trainer; Emily, Ravished by Porn; Explorations: Books 1-5; and Explorations: Part 1 (Books 1-16). 

Caned upon the bride-saddle: Emily's Shameful Ride #SatSpanks

I know there are other readers and writers who, like me, are deeply interested in world-building. This book of EXPLORATIONS, in addition to the shameful ride (which is very, very shameful), has a whole bunch of world-building for the great drama into which Victorian Emily is to be initiated, all centered on the history of a sacred device called the "bride-saddle." I sincerely hope the phrase does to you what it does to me. . .

"Edmund?" I asked, for I was longing as never to that moment I had longed. "Edmund, Sir, I. . ." I looked down at the Persian rug below the bride-saddle, and gripped the handles very hard, and, unable to stop myself, tried to work the muscles in my thighs and bottom, under my husband's loins, in search of something to soothe myself. "I. . . I'm sorry, Sir--I can't. . . help. . ." 

He seemed to come to himself. "Don't you dare do that to yourself," he said softly and menacingly. He slowly climbed off me, making me groan, and with the utmost difficulty I stilled my legs. 

Then, an instant later, I heard a sound I had heard only once before, in the solarium at Elmhurst, and then the succeeding "thwack" and then the burning line, different to anything else in the world, across my bottom.

And the blurb!

Edmund’s bride-saddle, which had never been used before, had no built-in fascinus, and so I was spared at least the menacing sight of the upthrust deity, though I was to learn not many days later that the cover of the saddle could easily be changed to reveal the ring into which would be set any of a number of fittings, and I was to learn also that a recent revolution in the manufacture of bride-saddles had brought it about that these rings were now standardized in such way that girls could be required to bring their own fascini to any occasion, and then forced to fit them to the house’s saddle themselves, and mount.  

In the 29th book of Explorations, Victorian Emily's ultimate defloration occurs atop her husband's bride-saddle, while in fantasy-Emily continues her shameful service to her husband's junior colleagues. 

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, MMMf (no sex among the Ms), anal, spanking, 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!

Emily's Shameful Ride cover reveal, #CorbinsBend tease

I think John Collier's imagination of Lady Godiva is probably my favorite pre-Raphaelite painting of all: the latent BDSM tendencies are so delicately rendered in her bowed head that my heart goes "squee!" every time I see it. For a shameful ride, in a novel saddle, what better?

Here's a tease so that you can see what I mean:

I turned, away from the bride-saddle, to Edmund, apprehensive. “Sir, what am I to do?” 

He smiled, “Mount, my dear.” 

I blushed, and trembled a bit. “What will happen then?” 

He took my hands in his. “You will learn to ride.” 

I covered my real confusion with a feigned one. “But, Sir, I already know how to ride.” 

Now he put his left arm around my shoulders, and turned me towards the horse, and reached his right hand down to my loins and gently touched me so that I shivered and sighed a little. 

“But you do not know how it is a girl may ride and be ridden at once.” His fingers became more insistent.

And the blurb:

Edmund’s bride-saddle, which had never been used before, had no built-in fascinus, and so I was spared at least the menacing sight of the upthrust deity, though I was to learn not many days later that the cover of the saddle could easily be changed to reveal the ring into which would be set any of a number of fittings, and I was to learn also that a recent revolution in the manufacture of bride-saddles had brought it about that these rings were now standardized in such way that girls could be required to bring their own fascini to any occasion, and then forced to fit them to the house’s saddle themselves, and mount.  

In the 29th book of Explorations, Victorian Emily's ultimate defloration occurs atop her husband's bride-saddle, while in fantasy-Emily continues her shameful service to her husband's junior colleagues. 

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, MMMf (no sex among the Ms), anal, spanking, 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.

And your Corbin's Bend bonus! Ten spanking authors, ten times the hotness. . . in the mountains of Colorado.

Dunn surveyed the sum total of the property that the moving company was about to load onto the truck. Then he looked down at a certain special duffel-bag that lay at his feet, which would not be going with the movers. He had already begun to think of that bag as his "Corbin's Bend Bag." In it were various things he felt sure he would soon find more consistent use for, at last. Looking at the bag, he could see one of those things--maybe the most important of them--, outlined by the black fabric of the duffel: long, and thin, and flexible: a rattan cane. The thought of employing it on a deserving, bare, female backside, in far off Colorado, made him smile.

Mr. Wilkes makes his will known: Emily's Shameful Ride is coming soon!

It's time at last for the next book of EXPLORATIONS proper. In the 29th book, Emily's Shameful Ride, the defloration of deflorations takes place for Victorian Emily, upon a device traditional in the "great drama" Emily has discovered: the bride-saddle. At the same time, in the modern story, fantasy-Emily is rendering shameful service to three of her husband's junior colleagues--I promise an excerpt from that plot for Friday!

I'll give you the tiniest of teases from the Victorian scene to whet your appetite:

He sniffed the air, and smiled. Then he insinuated the tip of his middle finger within the bottom he held, so far that I gave a startled cry, and leaped away from him a little. 

“Now, my dear,” he said, letting go of my hand, “you must make up your mind to it, or it will go very hard with you. I am renowned among my friends for my enjoyment of a trollop’s confusion at having her reluctance overcome and her bottom ravished, when she hesitates to give the full measure of the service I have paid for.”

And the blurb shall be revealed, of course!

Edmund’s bride-saddle, which had never been used before, had no built-in fascinus, and so I was spared at least the menacing sight of the upthrust deity, though I was to learn not many days later that the cover of the saddle could easily be changed to reveal the ring into which would be set any of a number of fittings, and I was to learn also that a recent revolution in the manufacture of bride-saddles had brought it about that these rings were now standardized in such way that girls could be required to bring their own fascini to any occasion, and then forced to fit them to the house’s saddle themselves, and mount.  

In the 29th book of Explorations, Victorian Emily's ultimate defloration occurs atop her husband's bride-saddle, while in fantasy-Emily continues her shameful service to her husband's junior colleagues. 

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, MMMf (no sex among the Ms), anal, spanking, 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. 

The Explorations series is a unique take on BDSM above all because of the strong individual voice of Emily Tilton herself, manifestly shaping the fantasy-elaborations of the series. Because Emily is interested in helping herself 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 Emily hopes will set it apart and make it useful: Emily has created a fantasy-version of herself (keeping to the tropes of the genre she knows 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--but the real Emily also keeps her authorial, real voice in the margins, explaining and analyzing, and revealing from time to time the much more mundane, real version of the things Emily has transformed in the story of her fantasy-self. This doubling of the "I" in the first-person narrative of Explorations makes the series worth exploring all on its own. Come for the hot D/s, spanking, anal action. Stay for the exploration.

A paddle-interlude in a long night of submission--A Companion to EXPLORATIONS #SatSpanks

I think I probably don't actually need to apologize for how very, very naughty this snippet is, except perhaps to my friend Ana, who I hope will spank me for shamelessly posting it. It's from my "real" wedding-night, on Maui in 2002.

What I really want to memorialize here, though, isn't the three butt-fuckings themselves but the intervals between them: the two periods when I, still unsatisfied in the orgasm department, still tied to the hotel bed, lay waiting to have my ass used again, and he, for once really owning the dominant's role, actually turned on the TV and watched (interval one) Sports Center and (interval two) an old Western. Looking back, it seems completely absurd that I could have found the thought that my new husband was watching TV while waiting for his cock to be ready to fuck my ass again arousing, but I did--so much that during the first interval (I actually fell asleep during the second, which left me refreshed for the high drama of the third butt-fucking) I decided to stage a little scene of my own, by trying to steal an orgasm, rubbing against the pillows and squeezing my thighs. The intention was of course to get caught, so I didn't make much effort to stifle the little "hmm" sounds that always come from my throat when I get close to coming, even when I'm trying to be quiet. I had my eyes closed and my face buried between my upper arms. 

"CRACK," I heard and felt at the same time, and gave a full-throated scream (thank God our suite was a bungalow sort of a thing) at the burning pain in my bottom-cheeks.

"Mrs. Smith," said Charles, "I doubt you have forgotten that self-abuse is absolutely forbidden in my house; tonight above all." CRACK! "To be sure, you are a wanton slut," CRACK! (I was wailing, now), "but even so I believe I have the right to expect more modesty from you." CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! 

The paddle was laid aside, and my cavalier was astride me again. "Oh, God, Emily," he said, as he began to ride my punished bottom to his second triumph over it, "I love you so much."

Here's the blurb. Buy the book here!

It was a look of appraisal; I don't think there's another way to put it. Charles Smith appraised me as a possible anal-submissive, and I felt searched out and known as I never, ever had before.

This companion, drawn from Emily's blog, tells the story of her early relationship with her husband Charles, and of the way she came to write the first version of the Explorations series. Please note that most of the content of this book has appeared on the blog, though it is no longer available there.

This companion to EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, spanking, anal. 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!

My "real" BDSM wedding-night: A Companion to EXPLORATIONS Plus, #CorbinsBend

This part of the story of my early days with Charles is pretty much my favorite. Buy the Companion here!

I watched the sun set from the extreme end of the beach that lies just down a path from the hotel. The lights of the hotel glowed behind me, and I could see the lights of boats out to sea. At exactly 8pm, as I had been commanded by my husband, I waded out into the dark, delicious water, until it came up to my chest, and glancing nervously around (no sign of Charles) and blushing deeply, I quickly and surreptitiously removed my bikini bottom, and held it in my right hand. Again, as commanded, I turned to face the ocean, waiting to be taken by whatever island man should happen along the beach. 

I wanted to touch myself, of course, but I had been expressly forbidden to do so. For what felt an eternity, but was really perhaps two minutes (I will always be sure he was hiding behind a palm tree for at least an hour, though he denies it), I waited, starting to shiver a little, in the bay, as available as a good Réagean girl should be. Then I heard someone in the water behind me. 

I was forbidden to turn around, forbidden to call out to the approaching stranger. I was Brünnhilde, on her rock, and the fearless hero had penetrated my wall of fire--soon to penetrate much more than that. I was Eve, having tasted the forbidden fruit, knowing my sin and awaiting my partner in it; I was Mary, afraid of Gabriel, wondering what manner of salutation his might be. In those moments, hearing the water move around the stranger's powerful legs, I was a virgin again.

The blurb:

It was a look of appraisal; I don't think there's another way to put it. Charles Smith appraised me as a possible anal-submissive, and I felt searched out and known as I never, ever had before. 

This companion, drawn from Emily's blog, tells the story of her early relationship with her husband Charles, and of the way she came to write the first version of the Explorations series. Please note that most of the content of this book has appeared on the blog, though it is no longer available there. 

This companion to EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, spanking, anal. 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.

And a little something more. . . from an amazing place called Corbin's Bend that's coming in 2014 (Ten spanking authors, ten times the hotness) . . . 

Professor John Dunn could hardly believe it when he got the job offer from Sandy Ridge College. True, he had been confident that his credentials would prove satisfactory to the search committee and the administration of the college (how could they not, seeing as he was coming from an Ivy League university?), but when he thought of the reason why he had applied to such a small--though well-respected--institution as Sandy Ridge in the first place, he very nearly couldn't credit that he had succeeded in securing a position. Indeed, his job application had seemed almost a joke in comparison to the approval process for Corbin's Bend.