Rocking-horse training, concluded

(We're continuing from here.)

(WARNING: this episode has VERY intense ageplay.)

(I mean, seriously, if you thought it was intense before. . .)

(Just don't hate me for the third paragraph, OK? The purpose of EXPLORATIONS is to explore the dark regions, right?)

It was a bit-gag, with reins. Like all the best training devices, my first reaction was "Never!" and my second reaction was "Ohmygod always." Charles pulled out of my ass, leaving me with that lovely forlorn feeling that I always get when I know there's more to come, and came around to the side of the bed, and patted my head (stroked my mane), as he put it in. "Good little pony," he said. I thought the heat in my pussy was going to incinerate me.

Maybe there needs to be a new word to describe this kind of thing, some sort of portmanteau of "wrong" and "hot": aeschroerotic (that's Greek) or stupramorous (Latin), or shamesexy. Let me see if I can capture how it felt in a single thought: at one and the same time, I wanted to make sure that no one ever know that my husband, pretending to be my Daddy, had bridled me and then ridden my ass like an, I don't know, ass-jockey--wanted it even to be erased from our own memories, and sent wherever terrible experiences go to be forever lost--and I was trying as hard as a girl with a bit in her mouth can try to communicate that Charles had to take a picture, and that that picture had to be framed and then hung in some secret room where we could go and look at it while we were having sex, and that that picture had to be kept so that I could look at it and play with myself whenever I wanted between now and the end of space-time itself.

For the moment, I had to settle for risking Daddy's displeasure by jumping off the horse and getting down from the bed, and pointing violently at the mirror, and mewing pleadingly around my bit, then pointing at the horse, and twirling my finger, then clasping my hands in front of me, to say "Please, Daddy, would you turn the horse around so I can see you riding my little bottom like a Daddy should ride a little girl's bottom because even though it's wrong her little bottom is so pretty that her Daddy can't resist, and Daddies' pleasure comes first, and so if a Daddy wants to put a bit and bridle on his little girl, she has to let him, because if she didn't he would spank her very hard, until she was a good little girl, and let him take his pleasure in her bottom, the way a Daddy is always entitled to take his pleasure, because a little girl's bottom-flower is for her Daddy to put his big thing inside."

And, miraculously, my Daddy understood my Proustian silent plea, and turned the horse around, but then he put me back on it, and said, "Emily, I'm afraid I have to spank you now, because you got off your horse without permission." I hung my head, but Daddy took my reins and pulled my head up, and then he started to beat me. Eventually, he had a riding crop that he used on these occasions, so I'll just conflate that in here, too.

"Little ponies sometimes need very severe lessons, don't they?" he asked, as he covered my bottom-cheeks with precise, stinging slaps of the keeper at the end of the crop. My head was reined in by his left hand, so I could only jerk my chin a bit in respectful assent. My eyes were watering, and the saliva was dripping down my chin onto the bed, and I could see it all in the mirror. I was in sub-heaven.

And then, at last, he rode me in earnest, his little ass-pony, holding my reins so tight that the tension in my neck travelled down my torso and into my flanks, and produced a sensation so painful and pleasurable that my face in the mirror, distended by my bit, looked like I were undergoing some horrendous torture at the hands of a sadist from Nazi Germany, or Mars, or something. And yet it was just my Daddy, who was riding his little girl because that makes Daddies' things feel so good, and they can't help what they do to their little girls, and their little girls love them for letting their little girls give them so much Daddy-pleasure.

"Oh, Emily. . ." Daddy grunted, "You. . . you don't know. . ."

There is nothing in the world to compare to the sight of the man you love taking pleasure beyond speech, beyond comprehension, in you. I don't care if you're staring up adoringly at him while he makes love to you tenderly in missionary position, a look of sweet vanilla pleasure on both your faces, or you've got a bit in your mouth and you're calling him Daddy and your Daddy is pounding your ass like a pseudoincestuous, pseudopederastic jackhammer: the look that comes just before an orgasm is incommensurable with any other phenomenon I can think of.

". . . what you do. . . to--oh, God--to your Daddy."

I throw my literary hands up. The word "thermonuclear" occurs to me as a way to describe his orgasm in my little bottom, but you'd never catch me using that kind of metaphor.

He came. He liked it. I liked it.

Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber: A few moments later #SatSpanks

My tease last week succeeded beautifully, as far as I could tell, and so, since so many of you were nice enough to call me naughty, I'll give you the next NINE sentences of Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber (on the theory that I banked one last Saturday). Unfortunately Headmistress knows I like to be spanked, so I can't hope for punishment in recompense of this infraction, I suppose--sigh.

Suddenly my long battle with Mrs. Smith over undressing in her sitting-room came back into my mind. Was I now to be made to show myself to a servant in my own house? I served my honor, just for a moment. 

“No,” I said quietly. 

Polly moved with a quickness I could scarcely believe. She seemed only to be reaching out for my shoulder, but almost immediately I was kneeling next to the bed with my face held down in the bed-clothes—only for a moment, though, because Polly then forced my mouth open firmly but gently, and put a linen towel inside. 

Only then did she speak again: “I’m very sorry, Miss, to ‘ave to do this on your weddin’-day, but you know my orders. Now don’t move, or it’ll be the cane instead of the paddle.” I did not move.

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

"This last condition may seem strange, but it is absolutely essential that we have such evidence before we begin to plan for your visit, as the ostensible reason for your presence in Prophettown will be that you have applied to have Mrs. Smith fulfill the role of the Whore of the Nations in the yearly festival of the Angel of Love. We will explain further if we are able to reach an agreement, and you are on your way to Prophettown, but in brief the role of the whore is forbidden to the women of Prophettown, and so men from the outside world, who own submissives, apply (with a large fee, which we will of course waive in your case) for their submissives to play the part, because the owner of the girl who plays the whore is given his own special, highly-coveted, role in the festival. As you have no doubt already guessed, the role of the whore involves polyandrous service; in order to allow you passage to Prophettown, Mrs. Smith will have to be prepared to play it, and I will have to have the same sort of audition-video for her that I have for the other candidates. 

"Please let me know as soon as possible whether you agree to these conditions. Once you do, we can begin to plan your passage, which will have to take place very soon, since the festival occurs at midsummer, less than three weeks from now. 

"I am yours, sincerely, 

"Marcion, Prophet Richards" 

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. 

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Ff, Mf, ageplay, pseudoincest, diaperplay, 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.

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

Now Available: Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber

At long last, it's here (buy the book)! As an experiment, I've got five review copies to send as PDF's, if anyone's interested in giving an honest review on Amazon, Goodreads, or somewhere else. Contact me on my Google profile if you want one!

Chunk:

“Behind the dressing screen, Ma’am, you’ll find a night-dress—a gift from the master.” 

“I am to be permitted a dressing screen?” I asked, incredulous. 

“Of course, Ma’am. What would your mother think if she visited you here and found you without one?” 

On the little chair behind the screen was a beautiful, conventional night-dress. Without even thinking, for once in the past forty-eight hours, of being naked but for the aide-mari, I removed my linens and hung them over the screen, whence Mrs. Ramsay removed them, as a married lady’s servants do. I donned the night-dress, white and clean. 

Mrs. Ramsay squeezed my hand before she left, and shut the door behind her. I remained standing in the center of the room, for a long, long time, trying to determine even the smallest thing about my state of mind. I looked at the pin-box on the vanity; at the bed with its lovely chenille coverlet; at the dressing screen with its golden chinois design. Before I had even approached the question of my own existence, independent of this, my lovely room in my lovely house, the door-knob began to turn. 

Edmund entered, and shut the door behind him. He wore a black dressing gown, but, as far as I could notice, nothing else. He sat down in a chair by the fire-place, next to the table where Mrs. Ramsay had put my Smith’s trousseau.

Blurb (buy the book!):

"This last condition may seem strange, but it is absolutely essential that we have such evidence before we begin to plan for your visit, as the ostensible reason for your presence in Prophettown will be that you have applied to have Mrs. Smith fulfill the role of the Whore of the Nations in the yearly festival of the Angel of Love. We will explain further if we are able to reach an agreement, and you are on your way to Prophettown, but in brief the role of the whore is forbidden to the women of Prophettown, and so men from the outside world, who own submissives, apply (with a large fee, which we will of course waive in your case) for their submissives to play the part, because the owner of the girl who plays the whore is given his own special, highly-coveted, role in the festival. As you have no doubt already guessed, the role of the whore involves polyandrous service; in order to allow you passage to Prophettown, Mrs. Smith will have to be prepared to play it, and I will have to have the same sort of audition-video for her that I have for the other candidates. 

"Please let me know as soon as possible whether you agree to these conditions. Once you do, we can begin to plan your passage, which will have to take place very soon, since the festival occurs at midsummer, less than three weeks from now. 

"I am yours, sincerely, 

"Marcion, Prophet Richards" 

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. 

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Ff, Mf, ageplay, pseudoincest, diaperplay, 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.

Tease, and news: Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber

The tease, which is significantly meatier than the naughty thing I did on Saturday, is below. How else could I get you to read the ultra-significant news about EXPLORATIONS?

And that news is big. After high-level talks with trusted advisors, I've decided to try reconfiguring the project along not one, not two, but three different, new tracks. I'll be opening the first of those tracks in my next release, after Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber (buy it here!), so this is, I suppose, the amazing title-reveal:

THE FIRST NOTEBOOK OF 
EMILY ORN WILKES, 
SECRET COUNTESS OF WESSULK

My spanking romance colleagues have said kind things about the Victorian material, and made me wonder whether a release of the first part of it, on its own, might be a better fit for some readers. Worth trying, at least! Watch this space for further teases and reveals, of course.

And here's the tease for Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber (buy it here!). This excerpt comes from much later in the book than the bit I dangled Saturday. Emily's new husband has just told her that he wooed her because he had heard the story of her severe chastisement for "debauching" her best friend.

Here at last was an explanation of certain things that had remained until then mysterious in the relationship between Mr. Wilkes and Mrs. Smith. But at that moment the coach stopped; we were arrived at our new home. The servants, who met us of course in the front hall, were all very kind in their congratulations, and I was quite unable to tell which, if any, of them, were party to the great drama. I remembered Polly, and suddenly wondered whether she might be hired away from Smith’s. The thought did nothing to decrease the intensity of sensation I was experiencing from the aide-mari, now that the time of my finally learning what it meant to be deflowered approached. 

“Mrs. Ramsay, we will be retiring, now. Would you please show Mrs. Wilkes her chamber, and in the absence of her maid would you assist her there? The wooden case is to be placed on her coffee-table. Mr. Ramsay, would you see that supper is ready to be served in Mrs. Wilkes’ sitting-room at 10 o’clock?” 

No explanation nor excuse was given for a bride to be put to bed at four in the afternoon. Neither house-keeper nor butler showed any sign of knowledge of what was now to take place—that the new mistress would no longer be a maid when supper was brought to her sitting-room, and that however she might struggle her bridegroom was now to take his pleasure of her maidenhead at his leisure and for as long as he chose.

And, of course, the blurb: 

"This last condition may seem strange, but it is absolutely essential that we have such evidence before we begin to plan for your visit, as the ostensible reason for your presence in Prophettown will be that you have applied to have Mrs. Smith fulfill the role of the Whore of the Nations in the yearly festival of the Angel of Love. We will explain further if we are able to reach an agreement, and you are on your way to Prophettown, but in brief the role of the whore is forbidden to the women of Prophettown, and so men from the outside world, who own submissives, apply (with a large fee, which we will of course waive in your case) for their submissives to play the part, because the owner of the girl who plays the whore is given his own special, highly-coveted, role in the festival. As you have no doubt already guessed, the role of the whore involves polyandrous service; in order to allow you passage to Prophettown, Mrs. Smith will have to be prepared to play it, and I will have to have the same sort of audition-video for her that I have for the other candidates. 

"Please let me know as soon as possible whether you agree to these conditions. Once you do, we can begin to plan your passage, which will have to take place very soon, since the festival occurs at midsummer, less than three weeks from now. 

"I am yours, sincerely, 

"Marcion, Prophet Richards" 

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. 

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Ff, Mf, ageplay, pseudoincest, diaperplay, 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.

Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber #SatSpanks

The climax at last. . . or is it? When it's an Emily Tilton wedding-night (how many of these have I written? Four so far--and every one a snowflake!), it enjoys the same favor Athena gives to the reunion-sex of Odysseus and Penelope. Or, you might say, it goes on forever. At any rate, Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber (buy it here!) definitely presents the beginning, the same way, all those months ago, Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night presented the beginning of my very first one. (If you want to read Emily's Submissive Wedding-Night, download EXPLORATIONS: Books 1-5 for free here!)

Victorian Emily does not play with herself on the morning of her wedding-day, but:

After she had taken the breakfast things, Polly returned. My heart sank (and skipped a beat) when I saw her close the door firmly behind her. 

“It’s time, Miss.” She went to the closet and returned with the little case. I stood and waited. She waited, as well. “Miss,” she finally said, “you must remove your night-dress.”

Shall I give you the eighth sentence? I think not--next week, dear reader!

Blurb (the excerpt at the top comes from the fantasy-Emily stuff about Prophettown--see EXPLORATIONS 101 for more on that) (buy it here!):

"This last condition may seem strange, but it is absolutely essential that we have such evidence before we begin to plan for your visit, as the ostensible reason for your presence in Prophettown will be that you have applied to have Mrs. Smith fulfill the role of the Whore of the Nations in the yearly festival of the Angel of Love. We will explain further if we are able to reach an agreement, and you are on your way to Prophettown, but in brief the role of the whore is forbidden to the women of Prophettown, and so men from the outside world, who own submissives, apply (with a large fee, which we will of course waive in your case) for their submissives to play the part, because the owner of the girl who plays the whore is given his own special, highly-coveted, role in the festival. As you have no doubt already guessed, the role of the whore involves polyandrous service; in order to allow you passage to Prophettown, Mrs. Smith will have to be prepared to play it, and I will have to have the same sort of audition-video for her that I have for the other candidates. 

"Please let me know as soon as possible whether you agree to these conditions. Once you do, we can begin to plan your passage, which will have to take place very soon, since the festival occurs at midsummer, less than three weeks from now. 

"I am yours, sincerely, 

"Marcion, Prophet Richards" 

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. 

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Ff, Mf, ageplay, pseudoincest, diaperplay, 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.

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber COVER REVEAL

Evocative, no? It's from Waterhouse's St. Eulalia. I'm a wicked girl, I know, but sex and religion go hand in hand for me, and most sorts of legendary martyrdom are unbearably erotic as far as I'm concerned.

Blurbage:

"This last condition may seem strange, but it is absolutely essential that we have such evidence before we begin to plan for your visit, as the ostensible reason for your presence in Prophettown will be that you have applied to have Mrs. Smith fulfill the role of the Whore of the Nations in the yearly festival of the Angel of Love. We will explain further if we are able to reach an agreement, and you are on your way to Prophettown, but in brief the role of the whore is forbidden to the women of Prophettown, and so men from the outside world, who own submissives, apply (with a large fee, which we will of course waive in your case) for their submissives to play the part, because the owner of the girl who plays the whore is given his own special, highly-coveted, role in the festival. As you have no doubt already guessed, the role of the whore involves polyandrous service; in order to allow you passage to Prophettown, Mrs. Smith will have to be prepared to play it, and I will have to have the same sort of audition-video for her that I have for the other candidates. 

"Please let me know as soon as possible whether you agree to these conditions. Once you do, we can begin to plan your passage, which will have to take place very soon, since the festival occurs at midsummer, less than three weeks from now. 

"I am yours, sincerely, 

"Marcion, Prophet Richards" 

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. 

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Ff, Mf, ageplay, pseudoincest, diaperplay, 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.

Forthcoming: Emily's Victorian Bridal Chamber

Is this part called the BLURB REVEAL! maybe?

At any rate, everybody's being so nice about the Victorian stuff that I'm starting to feel bad that it's couched in all this (for me totally hot) black-helicopter Dan-Brown-esque bullshit about Prophettown, featuring every taboo thing most people could dream of (see the blurb if you're wondering). 

I guess that means that someday I can release some kind of "remix," the way the real authors do: THE NOTEBOOKS OF EMILY ORN WILKES, SECRET COUNTESS OF WESSULK. Then, you know, I can entice a publisher into putting out a "facsimile" edition, and I can go to the last remaining brick-and-mortar bookstore on earth (I'm wagering it'll be in Portland, or maybe Seattle; wait, will it be the gift-shop of "The Amazon.com Museum of American Reading Culture"?) and walk by it and maybe run a surreptitious hand over its leatherette cover.

Anyway, here's the blurb for the amazing 27th book (buy the book here!):

"This last condition may seem strange, but it is absolutely essential that we have such evidence before we begin to plan for your visit, as the ostensible reason for your presence in Prophettown will be that you have applied to have Mrs. Smith fulfill the role of the Whore of the Nations in the yearly festival of the Angel of Love. We will explain further if we are able to reach an agreement, and you are on your way to Prophettown, but in brief the role of the whore is forbidden to the women of Prophettown, and so men from the outside world, who own submissives, apply (with a large fee, which we will of course waive in your case) for their submissives to play the part, because the owner of the girl who plays the whore is given his own special, highly-coveted, role in the festival. As you have no doubt already guessed, the role of the whore involves polyandrous service; in order to allow you passage to Prophettown, Mrs. Smith will have to be prepared to play it, and I will have to have the same sort of audition-video for her that I have for the other candidates. 

"Please let me know as soon as possible whether you agree to these conditions. Once you do, we can begin to plan your passage, which will have to take place very soon, since the festival occurs at midsummer, less than three weeks from now. 

"I am yours, sincerely, 

"Marcion, Prophet Richards" 

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. 

This book of EXPLORATIONS contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Ff, Mf, ageplay, pseudoincest, diaperplay, 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.

The style of this post is intended as an homage to the fiercely independent Sheri Savill. 

Squee for silly plot-twists in spanking stories

(Warning: pseudo-incest.)

I just have to share the thing I'm working on this morning, which is the long-awaited (by me; I guess--I'm not sure whether anyone else is actually following the "plot" of EXPLORATIONS) news from Sarah, now ensconced in Prophettown (she disappeared at the end of Emily in Service), and loving it.

(You can read much more about it in the 101, but Prophettown is a "religious" BDSM community of universal polygamous domestic discipline, where members of "families" are not actually blood-related.)

Anyway, the first few days. They brought me here in a helicopter with the windows completely blacked out (that's after another, really long journey that I'm not allowed to tell you about, though something Daddy said made me think that maybe there was a chance you're going to visit me here [YAY!], so maybe we'll get to talk about it sometime). When I landed, Daddy and the Mamas were there to meet me, and they gave me big hugs. Jon gave me this sweet, modest kiss, and patted my behind, and sent me off with my foster family. I don't know why, but that got me almost as wet as when he took me the first time at your house (I'm not allowed to use bad words anymore, just so you know; the Daddies and Husbands use them all the time, but if a girl says one of them she gets whipped in front of the whole family--that happened to one of my foster sisters my second day here, when she burned a cake and swore about it).

That's slated to appear in EXPLORATIONS volume 27, alongside the account of Victorian Emily's wedding-night!