The little party: Caroline's Little Friends #SatSpanks

Caroline's Little Friends comes out today! Warning: intense ageplay.

As you know if you've read Caroline's Rocking Horse, I had read more than my fair share of erotica; I had even watched rather a good deal of porn before George and I started watching things together a few months previous. Also, we little girls had all been playing together, naked, our hairless little pussies and our little breasts and our little bottoms visible to our daddies and one another, for more than an hour. 

Part of me thinks that all of that together should have prepared me for what happened next at the little party. On the other hand, I don't think one can ever prepare oneself adequately for that kind of thing, so as Mr. Jenkins undid his belt buckle I felt real fear growing inside my tummy. "Pretty Caroline," he said to me, "I'm afraid that, as a new little girl here, you have to have the first spanking." I looked at my Daddy, and he nodded. "Come over here and lay yourself over this hassock. Your Daddy tells me you've been naughty."

Here's the blurb! Buy the book here!

When Caroline overhears two of her former students, Mary and Angela, talking about how they saw her getting a spanking from her husband, George, the stage is set for a new phase of Caroline and George's ageplay relationship. 

Using experiences gained from new friendships with couples in ageplay relationships, Caroline and George will travel deeper into their taboo fantasies in an attempt to help Caroline's students and to deepen their own connection to each other and to their new friends. 

From a "little party" where Caroline and her new "little" friend Caitlin play Colonial Girl dolls, to a steamy weekend with Caitlin and her husband Joe in New York City, Caroline and George find new ways to satisfy each other's longings. At the same time, Caroline finds herself drawn to Caitlin in a way she never imagined. In the end, will Caroline decide that, even though she is first and foremost her husband's little girl, she can take on the responsibility of helping Mary and Angela realize their own fantasies? Will her new friendship with Caitlin help her discover what it means to take the upper hand with someone, while still remaining obedient?

Read all the Saturday Spankings!

The dirtiest of the dirty: Caroline's Little Friends

Herewith, an excerpt and a cover. In Caroline's Little Friends, Caroline and George meet a very compatible couple, Caitlin and Joe, at a kinky ageplay party, and in this excerpt they've gone to stay with them. Caroline and Caitlin are having a sleepover. Warning: intense ageplay.

I put my own hand down, and I held her little bottom. "Its so strange," I said, through a kiss from her.  

"Do you want to stop?"  

"No... I mean..." I kissed her back. "It's been so long since I didn't just follow George's orders in bed." She kissed me. "I mean, I love that." She kissed me. I kissed her.  

"I know," Caitlin said. "It's the best, right?"  

"But... I mean... I love this, too, and it's not... vanilla."  

"Definitely not." She kissed me; I worked my middle finger into her bottom and poked, playfully. She mewed like a kitten.  

"Kitten," I whispered. "Definitely not vanilla."  

"Do you love anal as much as I do?" she whispered, even softer.  

I nodded.  

"Is your Daddy's come leaking out now?" She didn't wait for an answer, but put her fingers there. I buried my face in her chest as she said, "Oooh, yes, it is. I love that so much."  

"Me too," I confessed to her breasts. "But it's soooo dirty, isn't it?"  

"Well, yes," she giggled. "But that's why we do this, right? We're the dirtiest of the dirty." 

"But we pretend so well!"  

"Why do you think I'm an actress? Why do you think you are, too?" At lunch George and I had told them the story of how we had met as college-actors.

Here's the blurb! Buy the book here!

"When Caroline overhears two of her former students, Mary and Angela, talking about how they saw her getting a spanking from her husband, George, the stage is set for a new phase of Caroline and George's ageplay relationship. 

Using experiences gained from new friendships with couples in ageplay relationships, Caroline and George will travel deeper into their taboo fantasies in an attempt to help Caroline's students and to deepen their own connection to each other and to their new friends. 

From a "little party" where Caroline and her new "little" friend Caitlin play Colonial Girl dolls, to a steamy weekend with Caitlin and her husband Joe in New York City, Caroline and George find new ways to satisfy each other's longings. At the same time, Caroline finds herself drawn to Caitlin in a way she never imagined. In the end, will Caroline decide that, even though she is first and foremost her husband's little girl, she can take on the responsibility of helping Mary and Angela realize their own fantasies? Will her new friendship with Caitlin help her discover what it means to take the upper hand with someone, while still remaining obedient?

Visual spanking stories analysis: auction

(This analysis concerns yesterday's story.)

This photo presents some very intriguing elements. I think the reason I instantly thought it must have something to do with an auction is that the filename under which I found it said "Christie's," and the diamond necklace seems to sort well with the idea that there is an auction in the case. But then there are the very strange matters of the figures behind that of the man who is putting the necklace on "Elsa," and of the garment she is wearing, with its long, long ribbons (clearly meant, I think, to make an elaborate bow when tied; such elaborate bows are good for presenting gifts, of course--like girls in lovely lace lingerie).

The figures behind, try as I might, I could not see as anything other than painted, though that would mean that their paintings (or perhaps a single painting?) are very close behind the man with the necklace.

The whole of the image spoke of "Elsa" as an objet d'art, but more importantly as an objet d'art who has been placed upon the block. You may have gathered that I think objectification is the soul of sexuality, or at the very least of BDSM, and so I think the essential hotness of this photo for me may be in the way the gesture of placing the necklace around "Elsa's" neck, which simultaneously adorns her and, because of the metaphorical nature of the neck, claims and possesses her, radiates out into the various mysterious, but artistic, other details of the scene.

Visual inspirations for spanking stories: auction

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

Elsa knew what the diamond necklace being fastened around her neck meant: she had been awarded to the highest bidder, and he had come to claim her. She might have been the most expensive of the treasures auctioned that night, but she was still, dressed only in the lacy black lingerie and the strange wrap with the long ribbons that symbolized her bondage to the corporation and would soon be removed by her new owner, merely another treasure.

"Elsa," came the voice of her new owner, behind her, "the list of lots specifies that you are a very naughty girl." His voice was educated, and very deep. "I shall not bother to ask you whether it is true, so as not to give you the chance to begin your service to me with a falsehood. Instead, I shall ask you to stand up and go to the auctioneer's dais, in front of all these people, and bend over the block there, with your backside facing the bidders. Then I shall pull these lovely panties down to your knees and cane you, to show you and everyone here that a man who buys a naughty girl knows what to do with her.

"And then. . ." Elsa trembled with lust and dread. "And then I shall myself auction the right to use you after I take you for the first time, over that same block, right then and there, as a way to recoup some of the enormous investment I just made in my new concubine."

(Photo via Sir Dušan Dom of the wonderful Sensual BDSM community on Google Plus.)

The pearls

(The narrative thread, now exiguous, continues from here.)

I think I told Charles this one after reading Sleeping Beauty to my daughter Chloe.

Once upon a time, Princess Emily was at a ball, in a castle, wearing an evening gown of green silk over (and this she knew because she could not move a muscle without remembering it anew) lingerie made entirely of pearls, netted together in gossamer lace. This lingerie was the most expensive lingerie in the history of the world, and it had been a present from her father the king.

Emily had blushed crimson when her father had given her this royal gift, with the words "When your maids have attired you in these costly under-things, you must be careful! No one may touch them, or the gossamer lace will tear, and the pearls will fall away, and land upon the floor, and everyone will know that you are a slut who cannot keep her under-things on!"

"But father," said Emily, "If I should find a husband, will not he have the right to touch these pearls?"

The king smiled. "Yes, my dear, he will, for I have told the nobles of the land that he who wins your hand will gather these pearls tonight at the ball, when he shows that he is your lord, in front of the whole kingdom, on a stage set in the ballroom. And he will give you a new set of pearls, once he has gathered these."

Emily gasped at the thought, but felt a warmth growing in the place that would soon have those pearls upon it.

Now the handsome son of a Duke was whirling her across the floor, and all Emily could think about was the pearls covering her charms, working their way into her tender clefts, the one in front and the one in back, and, as she did, the pearls grew warmer, and moister. Would this man be the one to claim them? she wondered.

He was handsome, but he was too. . . deferential, too nice. She didn't know how her future lord was supposed to claim his pearls, but she sensed it would have to be by force, in some way. This son of a Duke didn't seem capable of that.

Then, to her astonishment, he said into her ear, "I know how wet your pearls are, princess." He sniffed the air, and continued, "I can smell how much you need to be possessed. I can assure you, when I rip those pearls off you, your backside is going to pay for the way you are flaunting your naughtiness in front of us all." Emily blushed to the roots of her hair. . . how could he? But. . . she felt the pearls growing ever warmer.

"My lord," Emily said, "I cannot understand you. In what way am I flaunting my naughtiness? If my nature is such that these pearls have caused my own body to betray me; even if you, as you claim, can smell that betrayal--in what way do I flaunt it? No, I would rather not wear these pearls, if it causes men to take such liberties." But she knew she lied.

"You are lying," said the son of the Duke. "You flaunt your naughtiness because in every look, in every step, in every breath you take you show us all how fortunate the man will be, who masters you."

Emily gasped, and it was then that the trumpet sounded.

"My lords!" said the sonorous voice of the King's Herald. "The Princess Emily is now to be awarded to him who can fuck her hardest!"

Emily gasped, but the assembled nobles murmured in assent. Emily broke away from the son of the Duke and ran to her father. "Father, what is this? You said my husband would be he who could claim the pearls, and that the gossamer lace would tear if anyone should touch it! How can you then award to me to the man who can. . . do that unspeakable thing. . . hardest?" She could not say the word, but as she thought of it, she grew wetter and wetter.

"Daughter," said the King, "I must confess that I told you an untruth. Your pearl lingerie is actually very strong. It is bound with the enchantments of a great sorceress; also, since your maids attired you in it, you doubtless did not realize that your pearls part, in certain places, to allow these lords to enjoy you, and to prove their worth. When a lord possesses you more forcefully than any other could, the gossamer lace will tear, and he will gather the pearls."

He looked at Emily, kindly but also, she thought, a little hungrily. "And now, daughter," he said, "It is time for you to take your place on the dais."

The footmen seized Emily, while she stood there pleading with her father the King, and carried her to the dais, where a low horse, such as is used in gymnastics, had been placed. Over this horse they bound Emily hand and foot, once her maids had removed the green silk gown, leaving her in only the pearls that covered her charms.

The nobles who were to compete had already disrobed. They stood before her, in a long queue, their sceptres of flesh rising arrogantly towards her face.

"The Princess," cried the Herald, "will greet each nobleman with her mouth, and prepare him to try to claim her pearls. She will prepare each nobleman, after the first, while the preceding one tries his strength inside her loins."

And so it began. One hundred nobleman tried the princess' charms that day, but only the son of the Duke knew how to possess her truly, for only he knew the secret of the pearls: the magic of the gossamer lace could stand up to ever so much pounding at the front entrance, but it would shatter the instant a man dared to use Emily in the rear.

At the moment the son of the Duke took Emily there, her mouth, now free (for the son of the Duke was the last in the queue), cried out in shame and agony and, finally, pleasure, and the pearls shattered all over the dais, and the people cried "Huzzah!" for the happy couple.

Brought to Mrs. Smith's bed: Emily's Victorian Honeymoon

Over the weekend, Emily's Victorian Honeymoon, the 31st book of EXPLORATIONS went up at Amazon! Here's a taste:

Precisely at nine, though, one of the young women brought to Mrs. Smith a silver bell, which she rang, loudly. 

Susan whispered in my ear, "That means it's bed-time. All the servants change duties, and the brides must be in bed by a quarter past." 

Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Jenkins took their leave, and I looked at Mrs. Smith and then at Susan, to try to learn what I must do. "Alright, girls," said Mrs. Smith. You may go and get into your night-gowns. Lucy will come for you when I am ready." 

Perhaps an hour later, there was a knock at my door. I had been pacing the room nervously, and Lucy tsked as she entered, and said, "Ma'am, you must be in bed after a quarter past. I shall have to tell the mistress." 

"Oh, no," I said, thinking I had spoilt everything, but also, as always, warming beyond my own will to the thought of being chastised by Mrs. Smith again. 

"Don't worry, ma'am," Lucy replied. "It's your first proper night, here; I'm sure she will be kind." 

I nodded and, unsure whether I wanted Mrs. Smith to be kind, I followed Lucy to Mrs. Smith's grand, beautiful bed-chamber, where Susan, looking somehow just like a playful kitten in her white lawn night-dress, was already perched atop a magnificent bed--the largest bed, indeed, that I had ever seen. She held out her hands to me. I looked at Lucy, unsure whether to trust that Susan had my best interests at heart, and Lucy gave a little nod, saying, "The mistress will be in in a moment; you are to wait on the bed, ma'am."

And the blurb (buy the book here!) 

"That is, I am afraid, no excuse in my house, as there are examples to be set, especially to naughty creatures like Susan here. Susan, please help Emily prepare for a bed-spanking." For reasons I didn't understand completely, I began to cry. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll do better," I choked out. Perhaps it was the sudden turn from the joy of embracing Susan to the shame of Mrs. Smith's disappointment.  

"Hush, Emily," said Mrs. Smith. "It isn't as bad as all that."  

The 31st book of Explorations finishes the stories of fantasy-Emily's multiple-man night, and of Victorian Emily's return to Smith's. Mf, MMMf (no sex among the M's), Ff, Fff, anal, spanking, watersports.  

This book of Explorations contains fiction elaborating the following sorts of fantasy that you may wish to avoid: Mf, MMMf (no sex among the M's), Ff, Fff, anal, spanking, watersports. It's intended for over-18 audiences who, like me, are interested in exploring the lines between pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, and fantasy and reality. All characters depicted are consenting adults.

The miraculous Anastasia Vitsky answers Emily's questions

I'm thrilled to welcome another wonderful colleague for Emily's Questions. Anastasia Vitsky has been kind to me in more ways than I can count, and with a greater magnitude of kindness than I think I could ever describe. To say that Ana writes F/F spanking fic serves perhaps to describe the starting point of her incredible efforts in her fiction and in a community of spanking fiction authors that she herself has shaped for the better immeasurably, but that simple description cannot capture her Herculean labors to bring the community together around topics both literary and far beyond literature. Really, I think Ana is a force for social justice in the guise of an F/F author. I urge you to follow her wonderful blog, Governing Ana, where she holds nothing back as she works towards the most admirable imaginable goals, while never losing the sense of fun that (in my opinion at least) always has to be there to make our fantasies a place of creation, and recreation, rather than a retreat from the world.

I'll let Ana introduce herself in her elegant style.

Thank you so much, Emily. I came into this writing business from the back door--stop it, Emily!--and never expected more than some fantasizing. I had been told 10-15 years ago that no one reads F/F, no one would buy F/F, and no one would publish F/F. It’s an attitude I’ve encountered many times as an author, and because of that I never expected to publish one book, let alone eleven (counting the anthologies).

A year and a half ago, I wrote stories to heal from heartbreak. I continued to write at a feverish pace, consumed by the stories that would later become The Way Home and Lighting the Way. When Celeste Jones and Cara Bristol invited me into the spanking author community, I found myself surprised to be accepted as a F/F author. Even better, no one tried to change me. I certainly have received (and given!) my fair share of teasing, but there has been remarkable kindness. I haven’t experienced that kind of acceptance in many place of my life, and this writing business has fed my soul in ways I’d never expected.

I believe that all social change begins with a story, and the greatest compliment I have ever received was, “I’d never considered that before, but your story opened my mind.”

I’m grateful to everyone, especially including Miss Naughty Emily, who has opened your mind, heart, and soul to this opinionated author who demands to be heard. Thank you.

Why do you write?

Why do I breathe? Why do I sleep at night (or during the day, sometimes)? I have no answer for why I write, except that I have never not written from the time I learned how to form letters. During an illness when I found myself in the ICU, my first conscious words were, “Can I have a pen and paper?"

I write because I need to write. I write because I want to create the stories I wish I could have read when I was younger. I write because I need to see my visions come to life on the page.

In short, I write because I live. Or perhaps I live because I write.

What's your desert-island fantasy? (If you were marooned on a desert-island with only a single fantasy to get off to for the rest of your life, what would you choose?)

Get off? Me? Are you sure you’re asking this question of the right person? :D

As to my favorite spanking fantasy, it’s one mixed with both pragmatism and impossibility. To receive loving, stern care from someone both strict and compassionate enough to give me what I need. The exact roles don’t matter. Whether it’s Eunji at school, Hana in the Castle, or Carene after a music rehearsal or any of the many roles I have written, the image of firm guidance sends shivers up my spine. I also love the nebulous region somewhere between consent and non-consent. True non-consent I’m not so fond of, but “I consented to this relationship and now I must relinquish control” strikes at my favorite fantasies.

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?

Some people think that a desire to be spanked stems from emotional wounds or is linked to abuse. While I disagree, I also think that the need for spanking (in whatever form we wish to call it) is rooted in a deep need of our identity. Simply put, for those who (like me) grew up daydreaming about spanking and giggle-blushing while looking up “spanking” in the dictionary, this spanking thing (whatever you want to call it) defines who we are. 

For me, especially with my most recent foray into straight-up ageplay, spanking connects with my core identity. Spanking can be punishment, yes, and Natalie at times crossed the line. However, Hana’s nurturing of Mira’s little-girl self brought out a maturity and love I wish more people could experience in the vanilla world. There are many ways to nurture someone, and there are many ways to mentor. Why not with a wooden spoon? :)

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

The character I’m currently writing or the one I’ve written most recently. That’s tough because I’m writing a story right now where I don’t identify with the character. She lets off a f-bomb. (So far. We’ll see if the Ana Censor omits it, as it omitted the first occurrence.) She supports her live-in boyfriend. She works at a bar and doesn’t believe in commitment, love, or tenderness. I’m struggling to love her the way like of my previous main characters, and this girl does not want to be loved! 

If I had to pick one character only, I think it would be Mira. She makes all the worst decisions for the best of reasons, and she stumbles through the fall-out of her bad decisions. To watch her blossom under the care of first Eunji and then Hana...well, that was magic. I’m excited to see what will happen to Mira next. 

By the way, fans of Mira and Hana should tune in for Love Spanks 2014 February 7-9. They’ll get to see a rather unorthodox celebration of the Lunar New year. I won’t accuse Hana of cheating, but let’s say she...ahem...bends the rules a bit. :)

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

Will I get kicked off this blog if I mention a character from children’s fiction? I do love many adult characters from adult (not necessarily erotic) books, but my all-time favorite character is Sara Crewe from A Little Princess. She is the model of dignity, imagination, and compassion. While she is a child character in a child’s setting, I have loved her since I first met her in third grade and continue to love her in adulthood. A friend lent me her library copy of A Little Princess, and I read it in one sitting. I then proceeded to re-read the book so many times that I could not bear to give the book up. So--and I’m not proud of this--I pretended I’d lost the book, just so I could keep it. I believe I may have led my friend to think she lost the book, rather than her innocent friend. Come to think of it, she probably had to pay the library fine, too.

What would Sara Crewe think? Ah well, by now she must have grown up. Think she’d give me a spanking?

And now the best part! An excerpt (one of my favorites) from Mira's Miracle:

"Mira-chan," she purrs into the small electronic earpiece for my cell phone. "Tell me the color of your panties." 

The luscious red apple splurts juice as my fingernails dig into the flesh. "I'm at the supermarket!" A bent-over curly-haired woman hobbles by with a baby bundled on her back. A loudspeaker blares with some harried employee's voice extolling the virtues of some limited time offer promotion. Buy one get one free, or fifty percent off, or a special sample, or a cooking demonstration. I shuffle in between stacks of food. When I came to South Korea last year to enroll in a translator certification course, I knew many things would be different from my native United States. I expected the language and cultural differences, but I didn't expect the rest. I didn't recognize the vastness of my country, or how I took for granted enormous grocery store aisles, houses, parking lots, and sidewalks. 

I squeeze past a precarious stack of miniature sweet yogurt drinks, but my purse knocks a few bottles onto the floor. I murmur an apology to no one in particular as I bend over and replace the drinks on their cardboard tray. 

"Are you wearing the silky violet panties with the sheer back panel?" Hana asks through the phone, luxuriating over each syllable. "When I take you over my knee, will the flimsy fabric tear as I place my hand in between your thighs and—"

"Hana!" Sticky apple juice dribbles down my white sleeve. I raise my voice to drown out hers. "Apple prices are outrageous. Do you want the three-thousand-won kind or the five-thousand-won kind?" Three to five dollars for a single apple, I tell myself. Trying to focus. I am an ordinary schoolgirl on an ordinary errand to buy ordinary groceries for her ordinary girlfriend. But I forgot. This is Hana, for whom nothing is ordinary. 

"I want your saucy bottom tipped over my knee as I split your schoolgirl panties at the seams." 

"HANA!" I put the crushed apple into a plastic produce bag and spin it around to tie off the end. Someone will have to pay for the ruined fruit. I walk over to the special produce bin filled with stacks of luscious red cherries. Each clear, plastic, heart-shaped bowl contains a small handful of the expensive, imported fruit. I long to taste the cherries, to place one in my mouth. I have not enjoyed a cherry since leaving my hometown many months ago, and I have almost forgotten the taste. I remember watching my mother bring in lugs of cherries, hauling in crates of the red fruit she made into cherry sauce, cherry jam, cherry everything. My mouth waters as I wish I could place the forbidden fruit into my mouth. At ten thousand won, or over ten dollars, for a tiny handful, I can't justify the expense. In the meantime, my attention is demanded elsewhere. 

"That's right," she croons. "Scream my name, baby girl, but louder!" 

"Hana!" I whisper, dipping my head forward so my long hair covers my hot face. A toddler careens by with a fistful of candy in each hand, a tired young mother trying to keep up. "Mmm-hmm-mmm," I hum as loudly as I dare, using the tune of a popular children's song about umbrellas in the rain. My first girlfriend, my first love, and my first pornographic phone sex call.

Here's the blurb:

The Castle. A place where Mira's secret, shameful desires will come true--whether she likes it or not.

Sophisticated, stunning, and wise beyond her years, Hana wants a break from her grueling career as a Japanese diplomat to Korea. She makes a bet with her new lover: Mira must ace her translation coursework for the semester or travel to a vacation destination of Hana's choice. Distracted by Hana's kisses, Mira loses her bet and must pay the penalty. Hana calls in a favor and books a luxurious stay for them at the Castle, a special retreat for all things spanking. She also tells Mira the conditions of the trip: Mira must be her little girl. 

Shocked and horrified, Mira protests the childish treatment and clothes. She fights against Hana and the Castle employees, terrified of the growing dread inside of her. Does a part of her actually like being scolded and cosseted, absolved of the responsibilities of grown-up life? As the magic of the Castle awakens in Mira a need she never knew existed, she comes across a deep, forbidden part of herself. Can she be a respected professional while basking in the glow of a more tender love than she has ever experienced? How can she return to ordinary life after experiencing this new way of life? What if anyone else finds out her terrible secret? 

Set a few months after Desire in Any Language, this second installment of Mira's adventures tells the story of hope, acceptance, and freedom.

Buy it here!

Official bio, links and stuff:

Anastasia Vitsky wrote her first spanking story at the age of thirteen and never stopped. She writes female-centric stories of love, laughter, loss, and discipline. People are often most passionate about this desire to spank and be spanked because it has had to be kept a secret. For this reason, the stories of a spanking relationship carry intimate power to change lives. She hopes that her readers will walk away from her books feeling that this world might be a better place.

Anastasia Vitsky’s blog
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