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."

D/s in college: Her Boyfriend's Firm Hand: What Emily is up to

With the sci-fi ageplay book in the can, as they say in glamorous Hollywood, I've turned back to something I've been working on for almost six months now, ever since I had a vivid, super-hot-for-me fantasy of a college senior telling his freshman girlfriend that he was going to spank her for saying a naughty word. It's a book that probably won't tear up the charts, but I feel very sentimental about it, trying to give these characters an impossibly wonderful D/s erotic life in college that I of course never had, but longed for even then.

I'm through to a part of the story where my hero and heroine, Mark and Sally, have got a room at a nice inn, on the understanding that Mark will deflower Sally in the dominant style she's begun to realize she can't live without.

Mark propped himself up on his elbow to face her. "You okay?" he asked softly. "Should we go more slowly?" 

Somehow, though it diminished the arousal a bit to know that Mark wasn't actually disregarding her anxiety, it also brought the fear way, way down--to manageable proportions. Sally knew she wanted to go forward, full speed. She wanted to get back as soon as she could to feeling like Mark didn't care what she thought about her lingerie or lack of it, about being spanked, about being fucked: her boyfriend would have his way with her, because that was what Sally was for. Sally Lanchester was Mark Weaver's fucktoy, and she must not forget it. 

So many times over the last two months, she had wondered, when she thought something like I am a fucktoy and felt her pussy grow warm and wet, whether she were losing her mind. Not tonight: tonight Sally welcomed the knowledge of her submissive nature, because it meant she was what Mark wanted and needed, just as he was what she wanted and needed.  

Sally said, "As you wish, sir. But I want to be a good girl, so I'd like to obey you now, and go take off my lingerie for you, if you would still like that. I know that it's time for me to have my fucking."

I'd love to know what you think! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next up: Her True Lord's Claim

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

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

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

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

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

It's "my" birthday!

"I"'m 37 today. It's been quite a year for "me" (also, for me). I found in my spanking-fiction-writing colleagues a truly extraordinary community that I can't imagine existing in the days before the 'net, when I despaired that I would ever be able to discuss the things that really mattered with anyone, let alone be able to communicate my fantasies in fiction to readers who might enjoy them.

All I can say, truly, is "Thank you."

In honor of the occasion, I want to bring back a post from this blog that's now to be found in EXPLORATIONS: A Companion to the Series, along with a great deal of other stuff along the same lines. It describes "my" 25th birthday--the most perfect birthday "I" (or I) could possibly imagine.

The post is part of the long series describing "my" "real" courtship with Charles. The pretend wedding-night part was done; it was the eve of my birthday.

Betrothal Coda

It was about then (it couldn't have been later than 10pm, I think, since our "night of nights" had started around 5, before the sun had even gone down if I recall correctly) that we fell asleep. Before I drifted off, I enjoined on Charles something that I haven't yet found a way to get into EXPLORATIONS--that he fuck me awake, if he woke up first. Even if I woke up first myself, my plan was to lie there pretending to be asleep until he did wake up and ravish me out of sleep. That probably would have been much better, but Charles has always been an early riser.

I wanted, you see, to feel that magical, pure constellation of desire behind so many ravishment fantasies: "He loves me, wants me, so much that he doesn't care whether I'm awake or not, ready or not, aroused or not." It was my birthday, too, so it felt like it would be just the right way to wake up with my new master.

It turned out to be the only time in our entire relationship thus far that I've used our safeword, because it was just too confusing and painful, in real life, to come out of sleep into what amounted to a sharp pain in the vagina, despite Charles having used something like half a tube of lube, both on himself and on me, in a vain effort to wake me up a little before he did the thing I'd told him he must do and that he was, truth to tell, pretty turned on by. The analogue to "He wants me so much he refuses to wait" is "She's asking for it, and I'm going to give it to her" as far as I can tell, and I'd almost literally told Charles "I'm asking for it, and you're going to give it to me."

Wow, was that a complicated conversation, afterward--one that I had brought entirely on myself, and that I was at first much too sleepy to engage in properly. It ended happily, though, because I finally woke up sufficiently to show him what my promiscuity, and research, had taught me, with respect at least to fellatio, and by the time he exploded helplessly down my throat, seated in the most throne-like chair in our little room at the Waldorf, we had managed to spin it into a lovely little D/s scene in which I was the naughty bride who had refused to be fucked awake and needed to make amends with her mouth. That's what I mean about the improvisatory negotiation, by the way.

(Also, in the years since then we've developed a protocol for sex-waking, as we call it. The trick is really just taking it very slowly.)

After that was breakfast in bed, feeling like one of those Georgian/Victorian/Edwardian brides who's presumed not to be able to get out of bed because her repressed husband has taken out 25 years or so of sexual frustration on her virgin quim in the course of a night. The real situation was not entirely different, though the soreness was compounded by the bride and groom having taken those years out on each other, and the region affected including a hitherto mostly virginal bottom (I guess I lost my chance really to feel anal ravishment by using my butt-plug so extensively on my own in my early 20's; probably a good thing). 

We had talked about the Metropolitan, or the Cloisters, but we spent the entirety of my 25th birthday in bed. By the afternoon, it had become completely cliché in the "Your body is a wonderland" style, but we were the last people to care, and I had brought a lot of lingerie. The final sexual acts of those amazing 36 hours from the moment I put his hand in my panties on the train to the moment he came in my ass at about midnight the second night in the Waldorf, were pure, animal stuff; at some point it went from finely wrought BDSM to sheer libertine-inflected debauchery ("Oh, Sir Charles, you make me feel so strange in my tender little private part; no, please don't raise my nightdress; oh, I am lost") à la Les Liaisons Dangereuses or even Justine, I suppose. 

Charles' surprise for me was the leather paddle he pulled out of his suitcase in the early evening of Saturday, which provided the beginning of the events transformed in Emily's First Caning and Emily's Little Trainer--it was my first really explicit punishment for masturbation, and as such it felt like long-delayed justice. (And it was a birthday spanking, too!) Charles did find it so arousing that he couldn't hold himself back, and I did ask him to get my butt-plug; although he had had my ass with his cock the evening before there was something about him putting in the butt-plug that felt even more intimate, and led to the reflections I try to outline in Emily's Little Trainer on what D/s might really all be about. In case I forget to mention it elsewhere, that paddle became our stand-in for the sacred schoolhouse implement--the cane--, since, as I discuss in EXPLORATIONS, the real cane just never worked for us, though we experimented with it a few times. 

When we awoke, we wanted to do it again, but the consequences had begun, and we could literally not touch each other erotically without the touched person wincing. 

We went to Mass at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue. We held hands. The choir sang the Byrd Mass for Five Voices. We both wept at that moment in the Credo. Either you know the moment or you don't; there's no use me trying to tell you about it. We each held the other's hand very tightly. Charles turned to me when they started to sing "Et resurrexit," and I turned to meet his eyes, felt them searching me out, appraising me--now, at last appropriating me as his own. 

"Emily Tilton, will you marry me?" he whispered. 

"Yes," I whispered back. 

Good boy-choirs. Is there anything they can't do?

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. 

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. 

I, Andromeda: The Bride's Ordeal #SatSpanks

(Please vote for the best spanking books of the year, over at the wonderful Spanking Romance Reviews! Note that I wouldn't object if you voted for The First Notebook in the historical category!)

This snippet continues from the excerpt I posted yesterday, but also does fine on its own. Fantasy-Charles and fantasy-I are playing Greek myths: as Perseus, Charles has just commanded "my" mother Cassiopeia to tell me what my naughty part is called, and Cassiopeia has called him cruel.

"I say that I probably am cruel, but that I have a gorgon's head in my wallet, so she had better do as I ask." 

"Unh mmmmm hmm, so. . . s--so what does she d. . . do?" 

"She says that that place is your cunt, Andromeda. Where do you feel strange?" 

"In. . .in mm--mmmmy c--cunt. . . oh, gods. . . oh!" 

Perseus gave me a hard spank on both cheeks of my naked bottom. "You are very wicked, princess! If I asked your parents whether you have been caught polluting yourself and abridging a bridegroom's rights, what would they say?"

Blurb 'n' buy! 

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!

Mythic BDSM: The Bride's Ordeal

It's very hard for an author to choose a favorite section of one of her books, especially when the book is as personal as The Bride's Ordeal, so I'll just say that the Perseus and Andromeda fantasy I'm sharing today and tomorrow is definitely one of them.

I, Andromeda, buried my face in my outstretched left shoulder, and pretended to try to break free of my bonds. "Oh, please. . ." 

Perseus began to soothe his slave-princess' fears, with slippery fingers from behind, along her shaven cunt. I, Andromeda, moaned with a prolonged, wanton fervor. 

"Oh, gods, what is this feeling in my. . . in my. . ." 

"In your what, your highness?" Perseus asked, slyly. 

"In my sh--shameful place. . ." 

"Queen Cassiopeia," said Perseus loudly, "your daughter says she has a warm feeling in her shameful place. Would you please tell her what a wife learns to call that place? She'll need to know, if she is to escape whipping in my house, for I will require her to say it often, while I am enjoying her."

The blurb! Click to buy! 

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). 

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).