New release! Her Shameful Audition: a hacked selfie leads to movie star D/s

I'm very proud of this book, because I think I managed to capture something important about how we kinksters/spankos sometimes relate to the movie stars we adore from afar.

After a particularly shameful photo of twenty-three-year-old movie star Kirsten August is leaked online, her fall from grace is swift and she is soon without a job and feeling hopeless. When handsome, confident screenwriter Michael Rollins finds her crying in a local coffee shop and offers to cheer her up, Kirsten agrees to give him a chance. 

Upon learning that Michael is working on a screenplay about romance and kinky sex, Kirsten presses him for details. It turns out that the screenplay mirrors her own situation in many ways, which upsets Kirsten at first, until she considers that this may be the only role she is offered for a while and if she plays the part well she might earn back some respect in the industry. 

But when she asks to try out for the role, she is shocked to discover what Michael has planned for the audition: he will have her recreate the moment she took the fateful selfie, and then he will give her the bare bottom spanking she deserves. Kirsten quickly realizes that if she accepts this part, she won’t just be submitting to her director’s instructions while the cameras are rolling. Though she blushes to admit it, the thought of being stripped bare, punished thoroughly, and dominated completely excites her deeply, but is she truly ready to put herself in Michael’s hands so that he can train her to be his? 


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

Click here to buy the book on Amazon!

Fighting, D/s style: EXPLORATIONS files

I'm re-running the stories that serve as deep background for EXPLORATIONS. The story continues from this post.

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To be sure, even for two 25 year olds as erotically compatible as we were, the course of true love never did run smooth. If I'm going to get to the bottom (heh) of this thing I call love, I can't leave the fights out of it.

Ten years later, it's impossible to remember what our actual first fight was about, but I'll pretend that it was the one about the trust-fund, since that's the one that's stuck in my memory as the first moment (and, of course, there have been many — we wouldn't be a real couple if there hadn't) I thought I might have made a mistake in pursuing my erotic satisfaction at practically all cost.

Like I've said, Charles' family is wealthier than mine. They're not crazy-rich by Greenwich or New York standards, but they're crazy-rich by practically any other standard. That is, no helicopters, but a couple boats, one of them reasonably big. No house in Palm Beach, but houses on the Vineyard and in Vermont.

So their money is "tied up" as the phrase goes, in various places. Now that Charles was getting married, in a practically medieval fashion it was time for some of that money to be settled (no, they didn't use that Victorian word, but that was what it was) on me and our children. The easiest way to do such things is always through transfer of stock. It was unfortunately going to be oil stock, and when I saw that, I went ballistic.

I shouldn't have, obviously. This was one hundred percent about me and zero percent about Charles' parents. More on that shortly.

Charles, through no fault of his own, fell into a trap I had unconsciously set for him, and refused to trouble his parents with my ethical difficulty with owning oil stock. "We can talk about this later, can't we?" was all I could get out of him, which wasn't, from my perspective, even "We'll sell it after the wedding, and put it somewhere else" but rather "Shut up, you hysterical tree-hugger."

So. The real story was that I started off ashamed — medievally, atavistically, an occupational hazard of people in whom the humanistic love of the past has been inculcated — that my own family wasn't rich enough that I didn't need any money settled on me and my children by my bridegroom's parents. Then I had an overly strong reaction to the oil stock because (I think) I had just read a story about drilling in the Arctic (note that even after all this time I refuse to call it an "over-reaction," which is a key term from the screaming match Charles and I quickly devolved into: Charles: "Sweetheart, I think you're over-reacting"; Emily: "You're a fucking asshole!" Okay, I was the one screaming.).

But the above doesn't even get at what I finally realized long, long hours later, after I had nearly destroyed the best thing I have ever had in my life or, I think, will ever have, was the real root cause of the fight: my worry — no, my terror — that my anal-submissive orientation had overwhelmed my ethics; that if I actually let Charles and his parents take care of me that way the D/s wouldn't be play, any longer, and I would be trapped in a traditional marriage, through my own fault, with a guy whose understanding of marriage really did involve the husband being the head of the wife.

(Probably worth noting that I can't even type that phrase, which I absolutely refuse to believe Paul of Tarsus wrote, without feeling sick to my stomach. Also worth noting that when I read it in one of those Christian Domestic-Discipline stories that are kicking around the 'net these days in blogs and ebooks, in the context of some wife getting a spanking from her pastor husband, it never fails to get me hot, nevertheless. Humankind, fucked by fiction, I sometimes think. Also, I would never judge a DD (Domestic-Discipline) couple who have made the choice for the husband to be the "Head of Household" and the wife to be the "Taken-in-Hand" partner, for religious or erotic or psychological reasons, so long as it wasn't because they thought the Bible were telling them to do it that way. As you know if you've been reading, I'm very religious, but I'm definitely not fundamentalist, and I don't do anything, or believe anything, just because the Bible tells me so. I honor DD couples who have made the free, reasoned choice of DD more highly than I can express, for their courage in living their true selves in the face of a world that on the one (fundamentalist) hand sends what seem to me false messages of support and on the other (secular) hand finds their choice baffling.)

BDSM is full of paradoxes that I think affect all its practitioners, from the little kid playing spanking games with her friends to the silver-haired Dom with the riding-crop: how can being bound make me feel free? how can being spanked make me feel grown-up? above all, how can being hurt make me feel so fucking good? I have my own paradox, too, though, that I'm not sure afflicts anyone else: how can a woman who believes so strongly in equality long, with an existential longing, to be subjected in the private sphere to a man's will? To be humiliated, to be pissed on, to have her ass made to undergo such shocking trials as befit the disobedient chattel that a man, frustrated, must bring under his righteous domination?

Naught to do but keep exploring. More on the fight in my next post.

Visually inspired: breakfast

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

The most humiliating part of the ritual that led up to a spanking for Jennifer was the household duties she was made to perform in the special punishment-uniform Leo had given her.

Early that morning, she had told Leo to go fuck himself when he told her she needed to get out of bed--though she, just the night before, had begged him to help her get up earlier. He had immediately said, "Get into your punishment-uniform, Jennifer. You're going to get a spanking after breakfast."

With her face glowing red, Jennifer had had to get out of bed, and take off her nightgown, and put on the lacy blue lingerie, and the black stockings, and the heels, while Leo watched.

Then he had said, "Go make breakfast, now, please. Before you do, please get the spanking chair and put it in the living-room, so you'll be able to see it from the breakfast table."

Standing in the kitchen, at the counter, cracking eggs, dressed only in the sexy things Leo liked to see her in when he punished her, she knew that his eyes were on her, and above all on the shapely bottom he loved to spank until it was bright red, while Jennifer cried, "I'm sorry, sir!"

Somehow, the beautiful lingerie, which would have made her feel so sexy and desirable if she wore it for him to come to bed on a Saturday night, where he might rip it off her and fuck her senseless, felt shameful here in the kitchen. The thought of the spanking made her shift from foot to foot, as the warmth grew between her thighs.

She heard Leo come up behind her, and gasped when he rested his palm upon the bottom from which he would soon strip the lacy panties. "What kind of naughty slut makes breakfast in her punishment-uniform?" he asked.

What's hotter than a Victorian schoolroom? — what Emily is up to

I just started this one. Faithful readers should probably think of it as what happens when Sunset Harbor meets Innocence Examined.

Anne sat, very grateful for the concealment of the desk, though it could not conceal from her the slickness of her thighs from her private part's strange excitement. Miss Halton stood, and walked around to the front of her desk. Anne noticed for the first time just how severe was the contrast between the schoolmistress' ordinary grey gown and her pupils' odd state of undress.

"Now," Miss Halton said, "who can tell me what Cassandra should have done, when Apollo came into her window?"

Ursula put up her hand immediately, as did Sarah. Two other girls, both from Dormitory A, also raised theirs, though with more hesitation. 

"Miss Holmes?" said Miss Halton.

One of the Dormitory A girls, a willowy young woman with very fair hair, stood up at her seat and said, "She should have cried out for her governess, miss."

"A very fine answer, Miss Holmes," Miss Halton said, nodding. "Miss Crawley, what is your opinion on the matter?"

Miss Holmes sat, and Sarah rose. "Miss," she said, "should we consider the gods to be a kind of noblemen?"

Miss Halton seemed to want to suppress a smile. "I am not sure we can say for certain, Miss Crawley, but I find your line of thought very interesting. If we were to say that Apollo could be considered a nobleman, what should Cassandra have done?"

"Miss, may I ask another question?"

"Certainly, Miss Crawley."

"Was Cassandra a good girl?"

Now Miss Halton could not conceal her smile.

But Ursula spoke before Miss Halton could respond. "Miss, what does that have to do with the matter? Mrs. Fayerweather would say that if Cassandra was indeed a virgin, as the story tells us, she would be bound by her honor to resist, even if he were a nobleman. Georgina is correct." She nodded firmly in Miss Holmes' direction, then turned back to Miss Halton. "Isn't she, miss?"

Did Anne hear a note of threat in Ursula's interruption, as if she were threatening to report Miss Halton to Mrs. Fayerweather?

* * *

Oh, how Sarah despised Ursula Gregory! She looked daggers at the tall, blonde girl, and Ursula, far above sticking her tongue out at Sarah, merely narrowed her eyes in return. Standing, trying to give the answer that she thought would please dear Miss Halton so much, Sarah felt as if she had been surrounded by an enemy who had suddenly sprung upon her.

But "Ursula Gregory," Miss Halton said, "you know I do not tolerate disrespect in this classroom. You shall not interrupt a classmate again, if I have anything to say about it. Come up here this instant to be caned."

Sarah's eyes went wide in startled joy. Could Miss Halton really have said it?

"B-but, miss —"


"But me no buts, Miss Gregory. You heard what I said. Over my desk, with your impudent bottom to the class, so that I can demonstrate just where interruption will lead the next girl, too, who dares to engage in it."

Lori-Anne's mama needs to know how things are #TabooTuesday

The whole story so far can be found here.

"No, mom doesn't know that part," Lori-Anne whispered.

"But she's coming to the wedding, isn't she?"

Lori-Anne could only nod, the tears starting to run down her face.

"What did you tell her she was coming to see?" The condescending puzzlement in Kay's voice made Lori-Anne feel faint.

"I told her it was a big party that my friends were throwing for me." The whole thing seemed so foolish to Lori-Anne now, here in the car with Kay. She had somehow deluded herself into thinking that if her mom could see how much Joe loved her, and what good care Kay took of her, and how beautiful she looked in her wedding gown, her mom would suddenly come around and see how happy Lori-Anne was to be Joe Weston's Christian bride.

"Well," Kay said matter-of-factly, "Joe's gonna hear about this. He's not gonna be happy that your mama doesn't understand the way things are."

Keep up that taboo!

Celebrating the dirtiness of Caroline

Oh, why not. This is a passage that I couldn't believe I'd written, after I'd written it. There aren't that many things I've written that still give me an erotic chill even thinking about them, but this is one of them. Buy the ultra-affordable box-set on Amazon by clicking here!

Sometimes daddies like to make their little girls do wicked things. There was no way around it, I thought, as I felt my own daddy put his hand in my hair and start to control my motions. I struggled to please him, my eyes watering with the effort since I always gagged a little—I couldn't help it—when my daddy held himself in as deep as he really liked and filled my little mouth full of him.

Now that this had become a regular part of our new erotic lives, I could say that I loved it and I hated it when George enforced his will on me that way—loved it because it meant that having his cock in my mouth was something that made his cock feel good, and there were ways to make my mouth so pleasurable that he refused to deny himself the feeling—for example, the back of my throat enveloping the head of his penis. I hated it because there was nothing I could do but try not to retch while he sought out his pleasure, driving my head down upon his rigid length, allowing me no world except the world of his crotch where he was unquestioned master.

But then... then there was the part that was past both love and hate, where there lived the simple rightness of my daddy doing with me what he pleased. That was where, it seemed to me, his voice originated when he said, quietly but very clearly, "Yeah, you're a little cunt-mouth, aren't you Caroline?"

Let me confess fully here, near the end—near the place where I will close the ring and bring you back, dear reader, to the playroom and the wooden rocking horse. To be called a "cunt-mouth" drove me wild with lust. How does it happen that a woman with a Ph.D. in English Literature can at certain times apparently want nothing in the world more than she wants to be on her knees in front of her husband with him holding her face down on his cock and calling her "cunt-mouth"? I'll try, as a gesture of good will, to answer the question.

First, we need to consider the meaning of "cunt-mouth." It seems, really, quite transparent: a "cunt-mouth" is a girl whose mouth feels to a man like a pussy. We shouldn't neglect to bring into consideration also that this compound word (portmanteau word, really) may also be the most demeaning thing an intelligent woman could ever be called. I would argue for that point based on the centrality of the mouth as the organ of speech—the place from where a woman displays her reason and mental acuity. In my case for example, as a scholar I make my living with my mouth and with my pen and my keyboard; given that the phrases "cunt-pen" and "cunt-keyboard" are patently ridiculous, "cunt-mouth" would seem to be the most demeaning thing anyone could call me. George was saying that the mouth that had delivered countless lectures and countless public talks about topics as diverse as the symbolism of the garden in George Eliot and the role of herbal lore in Hamlet really had no better use than as an imitation vagina for his cock to take its pleasure.

Also consider the element of skill involved. It's not especially easy for a person who has teeth to provide a sensation that would provoke her husband to call her "cunt-mouth." I believe that my arousal at—and frankly, love of—being called a "cunt-mouth" begins from the pride that I feel at the very thought that George would even think of calling me that.

But to pretend that my love of the term comes just from satisfaction that I'm showing my daddy a good time would be utterly dishonest. I wrote earlier in this story that I have a pain thing. I have a degradation thing like unto it. The more George degrades me (within, of course, certain hygienic limits), the more I grasp my value to him, and the more I feel that I belong to him. 

When he calls me "cunt-mouth," he is actually saying that I am his cunt-mouth. He claims me as an object which is worthless and gives me worth specifically in that I am valuable to him in having a mouth that feels to him like a cunt—indeed, one that feels even better than a cunt, or wouldn't he be fucking my cunt instead of my mouth?

But finally, that line of reasoning leads to the most important point of the debasement thing: the real reason he isn't fucking my cunt is that he wants to debase me by putting my highly-educated mouth to a purpose that says to me, "You may very well be a Ph.D. in English Literature, but I know what your mouth is really good for: you are a cunt-mouth." 

And the most important part of all is that I am giving him my mouth to use like a cunt of my own free will because giving him what he wants, playing this lovely game of daddy-dominance-and-little-girl-submission actually makes us equal partners in helping each other find mind-blowing erotic fulfillment. Like the fulfillment my daddy then found as he made me swallow every drop of semen that came forth from his convulsing loins, and the fulfillment I likewise found as I complied with my Daddy's silently-expressed commands.

The lovely Korey Mae Johnson answers Emily's questions!

What an extraordinary pleasure it is to welcome my colleague Korey, who's been both an inspiration and a marvelous help to me as I've found my way in the world of BDSM and spanking fiction. Looking back on all the covers she's made for me I can hardly believe the incredible quality she brings to the task every time. Of them all, there's a very special place in my heart for the cover she made for Tamed by the Highlander, which uses her own photograph of Urquhart Castle. Thanks, Korey!

And now, her answers to my penetrating (heh) questions!

Why do you write?

Because I mostly enjoy it. It’s an addiction, certainly. I’ve been doing it since I was little, and it always calls me back. It doesn’t relax me, though. I think writing is the hardest thing I do, and I think if this was all I did, I’d get a little squirrely. I go through creative droughts and serious writer’s block (they’re different things in my mind) more often than I imagine other authors do. I never get things done as fast as I wish, which is a shame, because I’ve gotten so much positive support, far more than I deserve, and I still move it along at a snail’s pace. Honestly, good thing I write on a computer. If I had to write everything out on paper, there wouldn’t be any more trees left. I throw easily 9/10ths of everything I write away.


What's your desert-island fantasy?

That’s a really good question. I think it would be of a young woman (or me, although I really tend to fantasize in the third-person) being blackmailed into doing all sorts of hot sexual things by someone who was supposed to protect her, like some sort of guardian (though not blood-related), who also uses her as he pleases along with his handsome brother. All in the victorian period. When I was going through puberty, I was sort of obsessed with anything from 1830-1920 so now all my sexual fantasies wander back there, anyway.


Do you think of BDSM and/or spankophilia as a practice or as an orientation, or as something else, and what does your answer mean to you?

I don’t think there’s a solid rule. It CAN be an orientation. (I’ve certainly known people that can’t feel aroused without spanking or being spanked). I was born with this interest as far as I can remember (at least since I was three), so I didn’t have a choice about my obsession, but I actually don’t need spanking to be aroused. At the same time, I’ve met BDSM & spanking “converts” that didn’t realize what they wanted until they saw it and they picked it up like one would pick up a sport or a pastime. I actually think that they can become orientated to spanking over time even if they weren’t born with the interest. Even if they went without BDSM the first 30 years of their life, I’ve still met those that need it to enjoy sex to the fullest after a few years of practicing BDSM. And when necessity towards spanking that happens, I believe its become an orientation.

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

That’s a hard question, but I think it’s Moriarty Miles from my Otherworldly Discipline series. He’s such a fun asshole to write--clever and witty, like a fantasy version of Oscar Wilde.

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

Although Lothaire and Nucking Futs Nitz from Kresley Cole’s Immortals After Dark Series are tying at second, my all-time favorite is Zaphod Beeblebrox. Don’t trust any of the movies or TV shows. When it comes to books, he’s the best character ever. He is extremely clever and awesome to the bone, and he knows it because he’s the most arrogant person in the universe yet normally does the right thing in the end… but not always. He’s an anti-hero that could put Tony Stark to shame.


And now for the good stuff--the ultimate awesome project Korey and so many other incredible colleagues have put together! Take it away, Korey!

This year I got to work on a team led by Renee Rose, including Ashe Barker, Sue Lyndon, and Dinah McLeod, where we all put our heads together and made 5 full-length books centering around the same event. All can be read individually, and those individual options come out next month, but now is the ultimate way to read it--from every direction! The collection is a great value and great, sexy medieval spankin’ fun. If you like historical romances or sexy scenarios, then this is your collection!

I’m extremely excited that I got to join up with a group of amazing authors for this next project, where I once again tackle the medieval period. It’s extremely fun to write, though it had its challenges, and I think it’s one of my sweeter books with still a lot of non-consensual spice! As for the other girls--wow, all their books will knock your socks off, and this collection includes 5 full length stories from me, Renee Rose, Ashe Barker, Sue Lyndon, and Dinah McLeod. They’re not just sweet people, which they are, but they are all extremely talented and it was a delight to do this project with them. We hope everyone will love it!

Buy Here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00U9OB65U

Summary: When the castle they called home is besieged and ultimately falls, five women are captured and carried off as wives by their foes. Will they be treated as no more than the spoils of war, or can their new lords prove themselves worthy of the love and submission of their conquered brides?

The Conquered Brides is a five-book collection featuring brand-new titles from five top erotic romance authors. This collection includes:

Commanding the Princess, by Korey Mae Johnson

As the ruler of Hohenzollern Castle in name only, Susanna has watched helplessly for years as her power-hungry uncle made one enemy after another for her. One enemy stands out, and the moment she catches sight of him, Princess Susanna is certain that it will be Gerhard of Bavaria who brings her world down around her. As his army smashes through her gates, Susanna makes the only choice she has left. She surrenders herself to Gerhard, hoping to win mercy for her people, though she fears it will come at the cost of her life. But she soon learns that Gerhard has other plans for her, plans which may end with her surrendering much more than just her castle to him.

The Knight’s Seduction, by Renee Rose

Avowed to never again yield to a man’s ill-treatment, Lady Daisy stands ready to fight to the death when her castle is sacked. The imposing knight Sir Barrett has other ideas, however, and to her dismay, Daisy soon finds herself not only disarmed, but soundly spanked as well. Sir Barrett takes her as his captive bride, but when she shows real terror at the prospect of consummating their marriage, he offers her a bargain. She will offer her body to him and accept the pleasurable torments he inflicts, but he will not claim her fully until she aches for it so badly she begs him. Certain she will do no such thing, Daisy agrees, but can she resist the knight's seduction?

The Widow Is Mine, by Ashe Barker

Since her husband’s untimely passing, Lady Natalia has resigned herself to a quiet life as a young widow and perhaps one day as a nun. But when her adopted home is conquered by the enemy, her world is turned upside down. After he rescues her from the chaos of Hohenzollern’s fall, Duke Stefan of Richtenholst cannot imagine allowing Natalia to languish behind the walls of a convent. The duke takes Natalia home as his wife, and he quickly proves himself ready to compel her obedience when it is necessary, but can he ever truly make her his own?

Conquering Lady Claire, by Sue Lyndon

As Hohenzollern Castle falls, mayhem unfolds around Lady Claire, and her only aim is to lead as many women and children of the castle to safety as possible. In an odd turn of fortune, her courageous efforts ultimately lead to her capture by none other than Lord Galien of Minrova, the very man that her brother, a powerful duke, recently commanded to find her and claim her as his wife. Claire’s defiance is quickly overcome by means of a firm hand applied to her bare bottom, but Galien is not content merely going through the motions of a political marriage. His skilled lovemaking soon leaves his new bride begging for more, but can he conquer her heart as well?

Kidnapped and Claimed, by Dinah McLeod

When her husband’s repeated infidelities and drunken insults become too much to bear, Lady Cecily flees to her childhood home at Hohenzollern, but things quickly go from bad to worse and she is kidnapped from the castle stables only moments after her arrival. Cecily ignores her abductor’s warnings of ruin about to befall Hohenzollern and his claim that he took her from the castle only to keep her safe. She resists him every step of the way, until at last he spanks her long and hard. Despite his firm chastisement, it soon becomes clear to Cecily that her captor cares for her in a way her husband never did. But can she forgive him for stealing her from her home?

Publisher’s Note: The Conquered Brides contains spankings, sexual scenes, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Thanks so much for hosting me, Emily! Visiting has been a blast! Come visit me on my blog sometime!