Monday, 20 March 2017

Ellen's first time

Captain Thomas Edwards - hero of Claimed By The Captain - is very much a man of action: a spank-first-talk-later kind of guy.

Our heroine, Ellen Makepeace, however, believes that rules are made to be broken.

When fate brings them together, they have barely exchanged more than a few words before the following scene unfolds in the Captain's chamber...

***

He hadn’t expected her to give in easily and so he wasn’t surprised when she attempted to dart past him and get to the door.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, catching her around the waist with one arm. She let out an incoherent cry of outrage and tried in vain to wrench herself free. Thomas could feel her heart pounding against his arm.

Let me go!

“Calm yourself, Ellen!” he scolded, as he pulled her toward the wooden table in the middle of the room. “Anyone would think you had never been thrashed before.”

I have not!

Thomas could scarcely believe her. It seemed incredible that she could have reached adulthood without being chastised at least once. “Well, if that is true, I will soon remedy the situation.”

“You… will… not…” she ground out, still struggling against him with all her might.

“I will,” he said, holding her down over the table and pulling up the back of her dress. “I am your master and it is my duty.”

Ellen wriggled and kicked her legs but Thomas held her fast, unfastening her drawers with one hand and then doing his utmost not to stare at her beautiful bottom as the white fabric fell away. She gasped and froze under his arm. He could only assume it was the shame of being exposed in this way.

“How many apples did you steal, Ellen?” Thomas arranged himself into the right position, still holding Ellen in place.

“I… I…”

He tapped the belt lightly against her bottom and she flinched. “Shall we say a dozen?”

“Please…” All of her bravado seemed to have abandoned her.

“A dozen it is.”

Thomas drew back the belt and steadied himself. He had an urge to go easy on her, to be merciful—if this was indeed her first time, it would be a great shock.

But no. This was a punishment. It was his duty to keep her safe and he couldn’t fail her now.

Thomas pressed his lips together and then brought the belt down hard across her bare bottom.

Wednesday, 11 January 2017

Kathy gets a spanking

Here is an excerpt from my new novel, The Soldier's Girl.

Enjoy... ;-)


Frank positioned her to his liking and, even through her mounting panic, she loved the feeling of his strong hands manhandling her naked body. He wasn’t rough but neither was he entirely gentle and Kathy was reminded of the night they had first met when he had thrown her up over his shoulder without so much as a by-your-leave.

Kathy gasped as she felt Frank’s other leg press up against the back of her thighs, pinning her in place, and then her whole body went still as she felt the cool smooth wood of the clothes brush resting on her bare bottom.

“Why are you being punished, Kathleen?”

For a moment, Kathy couldn’t seem to make her voice work but then she swallowed and the words came. “Because I was rude… I didn’t talk to you… I danced with… with that man… and I ran away.”

“In the future,” said Frank, tapping the brush against her bottom now, “if you’re upset about something, you talk to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

The tapping stopped at once and a hard smack with the brush made Kathy shriek. “Yes, what?” said Frank, still in that calm but firm voice.

“Yes, Sir,” gasped Kathy at once, reeling from the burning sting of the clothes brush. Oh, no, it hurt so much more than his hand! How on earth was she going to bear this?

“Good.”

And then the spanking started in earnest. Fast, hard smacks that had her wailing into the quilt within seconds. It was unbearable… and yet she had no choice but to bear it. Frank’s strong thighs kept her bare bottom trapped and thrust upwards for his punishment and his hand gripping her waist kept her pinned down on the bed. She was trapped. There was no escape. She would have to just lie here and take it until such time as he deemed that she had been punished enough.

Oh, but when would that be?

Smack after smack rained down in quick succession and soon Kathy’s whole bottom was a throbbing, burning mass. She bucked and strained against his thighs and his hand but it was utterly futile. She tossed her head back and forth on the quilt and kicked her feet desperately in time with the awful brush but nothing would take her away from the pain. The more she tried to fight it, the harder it was to take.

“Please!” she wailed.

But Frank simply carried on spanking.

Kathy realised that the power to make it stop was out of her hands.

And that’s when all of the tension went out of her body and she burst into tears.

Monday, 9 January 2017

Looking for a wartime spanking romance?

Of course you are, because that's not niche or obscure at all... ;-)

Behold: Book Three! (proof that, far from being a fluke, this whole writing spanking novels activity is now *most definitely a thing*)





Upon hearing an air raid siren while enjoying a night out in wartime London, Kathy Phipps does what she has grown accustomed to doing—she ignores it. To her surprise, however, she is promptly tossed over the shoulder of handsome American army officer Frank Davis and carried away from the dance hall moments before it is destroyed by the bombing.

Once they are safe, Frank takes it upon himself to chastise Kathy for her recklessness, and she soon finds herself lying over the stern soldier’s lap with her bottom bared for a sound spanking. Frank’s firm-handed dominance sets Kathy’s heart racing, and when he asks to see her again she agrees despite his warning that being his girl will mean submitting to his discipline.

Kathy finds more pleasure in Frank’s arms then she would have ever thought possible, but even as their passion quickly grows into love the reality of the ongoing war cannot be ignored. When Frank departs to lead his men into battle across the channel, will it be the end of their romance or can Kathy dare to hope that he will come back to her when the fighting is done at last?

Publisher’s Note: The Soldier’s Girl includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

If you like the sound of this story, you can find out how to get a copy here.

Sunday, 19 June 2016

Lazy, lazy girl

I'll level with you: I'm a lazy, lazy girl.

I have this blog and I have a twitter account... but it turns out that my expectation when setting both of these up that I would update them regularly was optimistic at best, utterly deluded at worst.

Just finding time to write actual stories is hard enough... but time to write about writing stories? No way. Sorry... just no.

I could give you lots of seemingly valid excuses. In fact, here are some right now:
  • I work full time (in my 'real job')
  • I commute for roughly 2 hours per day
  • I have a family and a dog to love, care for and - when necessary - hassle into brushing their teeth (not so much the dog)
  • I have a house to keep... if not clean, then certainly safe for human habitation
  • I have friends, hobbies and other people's stories that I want to devote some of my time to
  • And finally, not to over-share but... you may have gathered that I also like to have kinky sex once in a while... and that shit can take planning
So you see? Busy busy busy...

*sigh*

No, I can't lie to you. These are all just excuses. The real reason is that I'm lazy. Because you know what? Here are some things that I *do* find time for:
  • Checking Facebook (upwards of 50 times per day)
  • Brainstorming ways that I could stop looking at facebook without actually having to close my account
  • Searching for houses on Rightmove that I will *never* (without a lottery win) be able to afford
  • Daydreaming about where I might be able to fit a rolltop bath in our tiny house
  • Watching (and then re-watching) honest trailers
  • Trawling through page after page of articles and article comments on the Guardian website 
  • Googling UK holiday cottages that have rolltop baths and/or a woodburner and/or a pervertible history (e.g. former Victorian school, former workhouse, former prison, etc etc) and then fantasising about going on holiday there
  • Making vague plans for how me and my family would survive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland
  • Obsessing over this bus
Productive, huh?

So I'm thinking... if I could stop doing all of the above, I would surely have more than enough time to not only write more stories but also to do more writing about writing stories.

Right?

Told you I was optimistic... ;-)