Kelly Dawson's Blog, page 4
May 23, 2017
#WipItUpWednesday ~ New Release
The last time I participated in this blog hop it was to share the brand new cover for my brand new spanky romance book Daddies Take Control which is the stand-alone sequel to the Daddy Takes the Reins (currently on sale for 99 cents! Have you got your copy yet?)
This week, I'm here to share a snippet from my brand new release - a nice spanky excerpt to whet your appetite
Becoming Family ~ by PK Corey
I'm so thrilled to have PK Corey on my blog once again with book 2 of the Cal's Law Series: Becoming Family.
This tagline alone is enough to make me check out the book: He had to stop acting like a jilted boyfriend and start acting like the damn sheriff.
Sales Blurb:Against overwhelming odds, Jenny and Cal are together and happy. Their love is strong, but before they can become family Jenny needs to learn what that word means. Jenny has no background in the real meaning of "family" but when Cal wants her to meet his and get to know hers, she knows the time has come. The difference in the two families is wide and jarring. Jenny has a lot to learn, but then so does Cal. When he meets her family, he discovers that the word family doesn't always mean the same thing to all people.Jenny’s mother has planned a future for her daughter that does not include someone as ordinary as Cal Bennet. What could this small-town hick with no money and no connections do for her? How far will her mother go to see that Jenny accepts a life of high society and prestige? Will these two lovers come to an understanding of what their family will look like?
Buy it here: Amazon Blushing Books
Excerpt: “How about a striptease?”“A striptease!” Jenny laughed. But with a shrug, she dug out her phone and found appropriate music.Cal’s eyes widened as she began – damn, had she been practicing or something? Discarding her clothes in a most elegant and sensuous way, Cal wouldn’t have looked away for a million dollars.Stopping with only her thong on Jenny crawled up on the bed and gave Cal a kiss that made him feel like he was about to embarrass himself. He quickly undressed before sitting back on the bed and leaning back against the headboard once more. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her across his lap, shifting a little to accommodate his erection.“Stop it, what’s going on?” Jenny asked trying to pull away.“Nothing,” Cal told her beginning to rub her ass. “I did tell you that you had a spanking coming for trying to talk me out of going to see the folks and giving me a very uncomfortable ride over there.”“Cal, don’t you dare! You know I was teasing. You can’t spank me for that. Let me go!” Jenny told him angrily.“Jenny honey, you need to see that there is nothing bad about most spankings.” Cal spanked her ass gently. “Some spankings are just for fun, some are to reconnect, some to release stress. They’re tons of reasons for me to spank this beautiful ass. And I think you’ll like most of them.”Jenny was still tense but stopped struggling. “I don’t like being in this position, it’s embarrassing.”“It’s beautiful,” Cal countered.
Author’s Bio:
The love of writing came to me late in life and I spent time trying to fit writing into a busy schedule. Recently I retired, the kids are out and on their own and my wonderful husband encourages me to spend more time exploring the world of writing.
I always hear you should write what you want to read, so I have. I write loving domestic discipline with the stress on ‘loving’. I want a strong man who cherishes the woman he loves and will go to any length to keep her safe and protected.
My Cassie’s Space series shows a mature couple who are deeply in love. Despite loving Cassie’s free spirited ways Tom is determination to keep her safe, even if it takes a trip over his knee. My new series, Cal’s Law, is about a younger couple. Though they come from very different backgrounds, love and discipline draw them together.
My blog: PK Corey’s Reading Room http://pk-corey.blogspot.com
email: pk.corey@yahoo.com
This tagline alone is enough to make me check out the book: He had to stop acting like a jilted boyfriend and start acting like the damn sheriff.
Sales Blurb:Against overwhelming odds, Jenny and Cal are together and happy. Their love is strong, but before they can become family Jenny needs to learn what that word means. Jenny has no background in the real meaning of "family" but when Cal wants her to meet his and get to know hers, she knows the time has come. The difference in the two families is wide and jarring. Jenny has a lot to learn, but then so does Cal. When he meets her family, he discovers that the word family doesn't always mean the same thing to all people.Jenny’s mother has planned a future for her daughter that does not include someone as ordinary as Cal Bennet. What could this small-town hick with no money and no connections do for her? How far will her mother go to see that Jenny accepts a life of high society and prestige? Will these two lovers come to an understanding of what their family will look like?
Buy it here: Amazon Blushing Books
Excerpt: “How about a striptease?”“A striptease!” Jenny laughed. But with a shrug, she dug out her phone and found appropriate music.Cal’s eyes widened as she began – damn, had she been practicing or something? Discarding her clothes in a most elegant and sensuous way, Cal wouldn’t have looked away for a million dollars.Stopping with only her thong on Jenny crawled up on the bed and gave Cal a kiss that made him feel like he was about to embarrass himself. He quickly undressed before sitting back on the bed and leaning back against the headboard once more. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her across his lap, shifting a little to accommodate his erection.“Stop it, what’s going on?” Jenny asked trying to pull away.“Nothing,” Cal told her beginning to rub her ass. “I did tell you that you had a spanking coming for trying to talk me out of going to see the folks and giving me a very uncomfortable ride over there.”“Cal, don’t you dare! You know I was teasing. You can’t spank me for that. Let me go!” Jenny told him angrily.“Jenny honey, you need to see that there is nothing bad about most spankings.” Cal spanked her ass gently. “Some spankings are just for fun, some are to reconnect, some to release stress. They’re tons of reasons for me to spank this beautiful ass. And I think you’ll like most of them.”Jenny was still tense but stopped struggling. “I don’t like being in this position, it’s embarrassing.”“It’s beautiful,” Cal countered.
Author’s Bio:
The love of writing came to me late in life and I spent time trying to fit writing into a busy schedule. Recently I retired, the kids are out and on their own and my wonderful husband encourages me to spend more time exploring the world of writing.
I always hear you should write what you want to read, so I have. I write loving domestic discipline with the stress on ‘loving’. I want a strong man who cherishes the woman he loves and will go to any length to keep her safe and protected.
My Cassie’s Space series shows a mature couple who are deeply in love. Despite loving Cassie’s free spirited ways Tom is determination to keep her safe, even if it takes a trip over his knee. My new series, Cal’s Law, is about a younger couple. Though they come from very different backgrounds, love and discipline draw them together.
My blog: PK Corey’s Reading Room http://pk-corey.blogspot.com
email: pk.corey@yahoo.com
May 19, 2017
#SatSpanks ~ New book & a sale THIS WEEKEND!!
I'm so excited to announce that my brand new book Daddies Take Control is coming THIS WEEKEND!! Daddies Take Control is the stand-a-lone sequel to Daddy Takes the Reins To celebrate, Daddy Takes the Reins is going to be on sale for just .99 cents for the WHOLE WEEK!!
8 (ish) sentences
She felt Luke lift the hem of her t-shirt. Cody’s t-shirt. The cool breeze kissed that private place between her legs and she shivered. Then Luke’s rough, callused hand crashed against her bottom so hard it reverberated through her whole body. He caught the base of her bottom, right where she sat, in an upward swinging motion, his fingers narrowly missing the edge of her pussy. Then he smacked the crest of her bottom in a hard, fast flurry of burning swats that made her squirm. She yelped. Already, her bottom was burning with just those few swats.He pinched her bottom and leaned over her body to whisper in her ear, “Who owns this ass?”
Don't forget to check out the other participants in this week's #SatSpanks blog hop!
Love Under the Violet Crown ~ by Sterling Scott & Sahalie Blue
Mythology becomes truth.
I'm so thrilled to have awesome Blushing Books writing duo Sterling Scott and Sahalie Blue on my blog today with their new sci-fi spanking book Love Under the Violet Crown.That is one gorgeous cover! The cover alone makes me want to check out this book!
Blurb:Dr. Julie Patterson is an Alien Anthropologist. She is on a quest to bring peace to the Galaxy.
Julie and her scientific team are aboard the starship Kart Wilhelm, orbiting the planet Maia-3 with its population of Bronze Age humanoids. Their mission is to redirect the focus of the war-like beings to become successful trading partners. To accomplish this goal, the invading scientists kidnap key individuals and implant new ideals of peace and freedom into their brains.
A native of Maia-3, Iva is a member of the wealthy and deeply spiritual Violet Crown family. Following the custom of her people, her father arranges a marriage to the mathematician, Archmed. Although Iva is an influential citizen, her marriage is only for producing children. However, she longs for true love with her husband. She wants him to reject the concubines he uses for pleasure and lie with her alone.
One night, the scientists seize Iva and Archmed. Iva mistakes them for the gods. Remembering the experience, she has a plan to capture her husband’s love.
The best laid plans of scientists and natives go awry. Following their long voyage through hyperspace, the starship’s crew is distracted by the amorous, scantily-clad natives on the warm, inviting planet. Combining business with pleasure creates problems for Julie’s objective. Meanwhile, Iva is kidnapped by a sinister native bent on having her as his wife. The
fledgling unity on Maia-3 is shattered.
Can Julie and her lover, Marine Lt. Harold Hunter, restore discipline to the ship and bring peace to the natives? And what is Dr. Patterson’s secret mission?
This sexy, spanky, romantic romp in outer space is a sequel to “Love on a Forbidden Planet”, but it can be read as a stand-alone novel.
I'm so thrilled to have awesome Blushing Books writing duo Sterling Scott and Sahalie Blue on my blog today with their new sci-fi spanking book Love Under the Violet Crown.That is one gorgeous cover! The cover alone makes me want to check out this book!
Blurb:Dr. Julie Patterson is an Alien Anthropologist. She is on a quest to bring peace to the Galaxy.
Julie and her scientific team are aboard the starship Kart Wilhelm, orbiting the planet Maia-3 with its population of Bronze Age humanoids. Their mission is to redirect the focus of the war-like beings to become successful trading partners. To accomplish this goal, the invading scientists kidnap key individuals and implant new ideals of peace and freedom into their brains.
A native of Maia-3, Iva is a member of the wealthy and deeply spiritual Violet Crown family. Following the custom of her people, her father arranges a marriage to the mathematician, Archmed. Although Iva is an influential citizen, her marriage is only for producing children. However, she longs for true love with her husband. She wants him to reject the concubines he uses for pleasure and lie with her alone.
One night, the scientists seize Iva and Archmed. Iva mistakes them for the gods. Remembering the experience, she has a plan to capture her husband’s love.
The best laid plans of scientists and natives go awry. Following their long voyage through hyperspace, the starship’s crew is distracted by the amorous, scantily-clad natives on the warm, inviting planet. Combining business with pleasure creates problems for Julie’s objective. Meanwhile, Iva is kidnapped by a sinister native bent on having her as his wife. The
fledgling unity on Maia-3 is shattered.
Can Julie and her lover, Marine Lt. Harold Hunter, restore discipline to the ship and bring peace to the natives? And what is Dr. Patterson’s secret mission?
This sexy, spanky, romantic romp in outer space is a sequel to “Love on a Forbidden Planet”, but it can be read as a stand-alone novel.
May 16, 2017
#WipItUpWednesday ~ COVER REVEAL!!!
I am SO EXCITED to share with you all the cover for my latest book - Daddies Take Control - the standalone sequel to my contemporary age-play set in New Zealand - Daddy Takes the Reins
This one is also set on a racing stable in New Zealand, and features two sexy cowboys - the brothers of the hero in my last book - Cody and Luke.It has mild age-play elements, lots of spankings and plenty of hot sex and I know you're going to love it!
COMING SOON!!
Here's a snippet to whet your appetite:
“We promised to keep this little bottom red and sore for three days.” He squeezed her bottom. “Just a few swats, to remind you who owns this ass.” Holding her t-shirt out of the way he slapped her bottom quickly, twice on each cheek. “Who owns this ass?”
“You do Sir,” she breathed, the fire in her backside mixing with the lingering heat between her legs, driving her wild with desire.
“And who else?”
“Luke does. Both you and Luke own my ass.” Her breathing was heavy now, the air felt thick. What was he doing to her? She’d never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Cody right now.
“That’s right.” He slapped her again, right in the middle of her bottom across both cheeks, the force of this one almost light after the intensity of the spanking he’d given her the other night in the back of the horse truck. But still, it hurt. She jumped and cried out.
She felt him rest his hand on her bottom and she flinched, waiting for the next hearty slap to fall but instead he stretched his fingers downwards, following the curve of her bottom to the juncture where her thighs met. He cupped the base of her bottom in the palm of his hand and stretched his fingers upwards, brushing her pussy lips then delving inside her. She arched her back, pressing her hips against him, offering herself up to him as his finger moved around inside her most intimate of places, sending bolts of electricity flying through her body. Her spine tingled and her ragged breathing grew even more shallow and quick as he fucked her with his finger. A low moan gathered deep in her throat and she rocked her hips in time with the movement of his finger.
“So wet,” Cody murmured. Withdrawing his finger he wiped her wetness over the crest of her bottom.
She groaned in protest and wiggled her hips.
Cody gave a throaty chuckle. “You like that huh?”
“Yes Sir,” she whimpered.
He squeezed her bottom. “One more smack.” This last swat was harder than the previous one and the force of the upwards swing pushed her right up on her toes.
She gasped, biting her lip to prevent herself from crying out.
“Good girl,” Cody murmured, dropping the t-shirt and rubbing her back in big, slow circles. “You took those swats well.” The pleasure in his voice was evident and her heart swelled at the praise. “Daily spankings are a good idea. I like it.” He winked at her rakishly.
“It’s a stupid idea. I don’t like it,” she declared, pouting.
Cody chuckled. “You’re cute when you pout. Seeing that gorgeous lower lip stuck out like that makes me want to smack that cute little tush some more.”
“I still don’t like your stupid idea,” she repeated, stamping her foot.
“You don’t make the rules, do you little girl? You just follow them. And when you don’t follow them, you get your ass smacked.” There was a half-smile on his face and his voice was rough, like sandpaper. Jen’s insides quivered as she listened to him.
“I don’t like getting my ass smacked.”
Cody’s hand went back under her t-shirt, reaching up the front of it this time, to cup her mound. “This pussy says otherwise.”
“Maybe my pussy’s lying?”
Cody laughed, a low, throaty laugh that turned her insides to mush. He slapped her pussy lightly, his fingers landing with a wet splat as he swung upwards with a flick of his wrist.
“This pussy is not lying.” His voice was a husky growl.
Leaning her back over his arm he bent forward over her, lowering his mouth to hers. His chapped lips were rough as he pressed them against hers and his goatee tickled her cheeks but she didn’t pull away. Instead she melted into him, opening her mouth to his probing tongue as he deepened the kiss. Her breasts tightened and her nipples puckered under Cody’s t-shirt as he wrapped his fingers in her hair, sparks flying between them. He kissed her long and hard, passionately, leaving her breathless under his touch.
Daddies Take Control is coming soon!Please sign up to my newsletter (on the side bar) if you'dlike to be the first to know when it's available
#Eroticromance ~ Perfect Notes ~ by Jaye Peaches
Callie is all he desires—the tonic for his dominance. But to fulfill their dreams, she must succumb to his passions.
Blurb:Amateur clarinetist Callie turns up for an orchestra rehearsal following a six-week absence to find a new conductor in residence—Stefan, a charismatic man with ambitions of being a composer. After he gives her a lift home, he invites her to his house for a practice session. What begins as a music lesson ends with a passionate display of dominance by Stefan.As their sexual affair blossoms, Callie is increasingly drawn to find out more about her aspiring composer and why he is a potent lover in the bedroom. When she turns up unexpectedly at his house, she is shocked to find him in the company of a naked woman. Horrified to think that he might have betrayed her, she calls an end to their relationship, but persistent Stefan begs for a second chance.Encouraged by her boss to resolve her feelings toward Stefan, Callie seeks out a friend of his, hoping to understand what drives him to dominate, but the given explanation creates more unresolved issues for Callie. Determined to seek out the truth, she plans to confront Stefan. But by then, he has gone abroad. Callie must make a decision—cash in her savings and follow Stefan, or banish him from her life. If she does the latter, she will never understand the nature of the intense emotions he has awakened within her. Does she dare to love him?
Buy linksAmazon Kobo Barnes and Noble Totally Bound.
Super Sexy Excerpt
“Do with me?” I lay back down. “What have I done wrong?”“You teased me. Forced me to come.”“Forced you?” I recollected that he’d done that to me as recently as Sunday. Revenge felt somewhat sweet.He skimmed his palms back up my arms. Taking my wrists again, he repositioned them next to my head, except this time his grip was looser, painless.I made a pretense of writhing about. It excited him. His cock burst back into life. I wriggled my hips about under his strong thighs.“Yes, forced me. I think a little punishment fuck is due.”I went rigid. What the hell did that mean?“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “In my book, punishment doesn’t mean pain. It means compliance. No misbehaving. You’ll get what I give you and I take precedence this time, Mausi. If you do want to come, you’re going to be begging me.”“Begging you,” I iterated. My stomach erupted with those ridiculous adrenaline-driven flutters.“Yes.”Oh, yes. Make me beg for it, Stefan.He stretched out and covered me with his long body. From head to toe he lay on me. He dragged my arms above my head and wrapped my knuckles around the metal bed poles in the headboard.“Hold these. You’re going to need them.” He winked at me.
Author Bio:I'm an author of erotic D/s romances including Amazon bestsellers. All my books contain an element of BDSM, spankings or erotic games of sensual exploration. If you desire a little thrill, something to entice, then please take the time to read one of my books. Thank you!When not writing, I’m busy spending time with her family, enjoying music, sometimes drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.
Author Links:Newsletter sign up Find me on Twitter Find me on Facebook Amazon Author Page Goodreads Author Page InstagramManic ReadersBlog
May 5, 2017
#SatSpanks ~ FREE Read ~ The Gunslinger's Woman now in KU!
For Saturday Spankings this week I have some good news: My historical spanky western, The Gunslinger's Woman is now available in Kindle Unlimited!
8 Sentences:
Her fingers were shaking as she fumbled with the buttons on her pants, undoing them slowly then pushing them down to her knees. She tugged her short lace drawers down too – the only concession she made to femininity. She shivered as the cool air rippled across her bare skin, kissing her with a chilly breeze. She kept her back to Danny, trying to keep her most intimate places hidden from his view. She was mortified. But despite her shame, she could feel a slickness between her legs that wasn’t there before, and a tingling ache that left her wanting. “Put your hands back on the wagon and bend over, just as you were before.” She shook her head. 'I can’t do this.'
Want more of my handsome gunslinger? Get him here!
Don't forget to check out the other participants in this week's #SatSpanks blog hop:
April 29, 2017
Jaye Peaches ~ New Release & FREE Book!
A disciplined mind. A disciplined body.
I'm thrilled to host Jaye Peaches on my blog today sharing her scorching hot new BDSM erotic romance - Book 2 in the Trust Me series: To Own You .
Special offer!Trust Me book 1 – To Know You – available for free until May 2. Snatch it up now! Amazon - To Know You
Blurb:
Married to Jason Lucas, Gemma is handling how to be the wife of a millionaire. In a moment of foolishness, she makes an error of judgement; an act she regrets and she must face the consequences that tumble on afterwards.Jason married for love, but will he be able to give his wife the romance she desires? His passion to be her Dominant remains strong but can he find a way to meld romance and dominance? After an event leaves him worried for Gemma's safety, he has the idea to take her to New York City. He asks her to submit to a week of escapism involving domination and submission, bondage and kinky sex. Will she agree to trust him and will she survive his style of domination for the duration?Most importantly - will their love survive the retribution that awaits them upon their return?Both characters are sexy and know what they want. Neither are novices. One takes control and the other yields. In the bedroom, there are the erotic scenes of BDSM, discipline and romance. The dynamic can be intoxicating—and dangerous.
Available NOW on Amazon!
Sexy Excerpt:
She slipped on the crimson dress—short, tight and with skimpy straps. He’d selected it from the wardrobe. She couldn’t complain since she’d chosen to bring it on vacation. The bust support was adequate for dancing. Black high heels completed the outfit and she arranged her hair in a twirling bun.“I look so modest; nobody will fancy me,” she said a little too sarcastically. Jason responded to the sarcasm by giving her a hard swipe across her backside. “Ouch!”“Best behaviour. Understood?”“Sor-ry,” she sang back.“Good.”Jason cheeks were unusually flushed. “I’m sorely tempted to skip the nightclub and rip your clothes off.” He backed away from her as if she was bait, clenching and unclenching his fists. She understood the effect she was having on him; she pushed his buttons just by strutting around the bedroom. Part of her wanted his self-control to crumble.Gemma sashayed her hips and nibbled on her lower lip.“I’m going to make that cunt wet,” he snarled and it only made her grin even more.“Such sweet talk, Sir,” she said, rocking on her heels. “All I’ve done is get dressed. What will you do when I start dancing?”Gemma blatantly provoked Jason; he was uncharacteristically impatient and hot for her. The danger was he would satisfy himself and not her. Pushing her towards the bed, Jason spun her around then bent her over the edge. With her skirt moved out of the way, he raised his hand and spanked her bottom, hard. Hip jarring smacks. She’d not anticipated the force and the echoes resounded against the glass walls and mirrors. She cried out and reached forward to claw at the silk sheets, grappling with the fabric and drawing it towards her until she’d bunched it up under her arms. Hugging the sheets, she held the position, trying hard not to kick back. She was so turned on and super excited by the impromptu spanking. He’d lit a fire in her belly.“You want to come?” he asked, aiming for her sit spots with a rapid string of smacks.“Fuck, yes!” She attempted to rub her clit against the firm edge of the mattress.“No way are you to come,” he said. “I want you needy, desperate and wet all fucking evening, understood?”She groaned and eased off rubbing. It wasn’t worth arguing with him. His tone of voice was unyielding.“Now on the other hand,” he said, and stopped spanking. “I intend to be comfortable. On your knees and suck me dry.”
Author Bio:I'm an author of erotic D/s romances including Amazon bestsellers. All my books contain an element of BDSM, spankings or erotic games of sensual exploration. If you desire a little thrill, something to entice, then please take the time to read one of my books. Thank you!When not writing, I’m busy spending time with family, enjoying music, sometimes drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.
Author Links:
Newsletter sign up Find me on Twitter Find me on Facebook Amazon Author Page Goodreads Author Page InstagramManic Readers Blog
I'm thrilled to host Jaye Peaches on my blog today sharing her scorching hot new BDSM erotic romance - Book 2 in the Trust Me series: To Own You .
Special offer!Trust Me book 1 – To Know You – available for free until May 2. Snatch it up now! Amazon - To Know You
Blurb:
Married to Jason Lucas, Gemma is handling how to be the wife of a millionaire. In a moment of foolishness, she makes an error of judgement; an act she regrets and she must face the consequences that tumble on afterwards.Jason married for love, but will he be able to give his wife the romance she desires? His passion to be her Dominant remains strong but can he find a way to meld romance and dominance? After an event leaves him worried for Gemma's safety, he has the idea to take her to New York City. He asks her to submit to a week of escapism involving domination and submission, bondage and kinky sex. Will she agree to trust him and will she survive his style of domination for the duration?Most importantly - will their love survive the retribution that awaits them upon their return?Both characters are sexy and know what they want. Neither are novices. One takes control and the other yields. In the bedroom, there are the erotic scenes of BDSM, discipline and romance. The dynamic can be intoxicating—and dangerous.
Available NOW on Amazon!
Sexy Excerpt:
She slipped on the crimson dress—short, tight and with skimpy straps. He’d selected it from the wardrobe. She couldn’t complain since she’d chosen to bring it on vacation. The bust support was adequate for dancing. Black high heels completed the outfit and she arranged her hair in a twirling bun.“I look so modest; nobody will fancy me,” she said a little too sarcastically. Jason responded to the sarcasm by giving her a hard swipe across her backside. “Ouch!”“Best behaviour. Understood?”“Sor-ry,” she sang back.“Good.”Jason cheeks were unusually flushed. “I’m sorely tempted to skip the nightclub and rip your clothes off.” He backed away from her as if she was bait, clenching and unclenching his fists. She understood the effect she was having on him; she pushed his buttons just by strutting around the bedroom. Part of her wanted his self-control to crumble.Gemma sashayed her hips and nibbled on her lower lip.“I’m going to make that cunt wet,” he snarled and it only made her grin even more.“Such sweet talk, Sir,” she said, rocking on her heels. “All I’ve done is get dressed. What will you do when I start dancing?”Gemma blatantly provoked Jason; he was uncharacteristically impatient and hot for her. The danger was he would satisfy himself and not her. Pushing her towards the bed, Jason spun her around then bent her over the edge. With her skirt moved out of the way, he raised his hand and spanked her bottom, hard. Hip jarring smacks. She’d not anticipated the force and the echoes resounded against the glass walls and mirrors. She cried out and reached forward to claw at the silk sheets, grappling with the fabric and drawing it towards her until she’d bunched it up under her arms. Hugging the sheets, she held the position, trying hard not to kick back. She was so turned on and super excited by the impromptu spanking. He’d lit a fire in her belly.“You want to come?” he asked, aiming for her sit spots with a rapid string of smacks.“Fuck, yes!” She attempted to rub her clit against the firm edge of the mattress.“No way are you to come,” he said. “I want you needy, desperate and wet all fucking evening, understood?”She groaned and eased off rubbing. It wasn’t worth arguing with him. His tone of voice was unyielding.“Now on the other hand,” he said, and stopped spanking. “I intend to be comfortable. On your knees and suck me dry.”
Author Bio:I'm an author of erotic D/s romances including Amazon bestsellers. All my books contain an element of BDSM, spankings or erotic games of sensual exploration. If you desire a little thrill, something to entice, then please take the time to read one of my books. Thank you!When not writing, I’m busy spending time with family, enjoying music, sometimes drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.
Author Links:
Newsletter sign up Find me on Twitter Find me on Facebook Amazon Author Page Goodreads Author Page InstagramManic Readers Blog
April 24, 2017
The Black-Edged Letter: An ANZAC Day Short Story
In commemoration of ANZAC Day here in New Zealand, I wrote this short story.
The Black-Edged Letter: An ANZAC Day Short Story by Kelly Dawson
Ripping the stitches off the needle, Elizabeth hurled the sock she was knitting at the wall. It was the third stitch she’d dropped in as many rows, and already, the sock was so misshapen and holey it was unrecognisable as a sock. She kicked the table in front of her and sighed; she was wasting her time. Jack would have to be content with a letter instead; the war would be over if she waited until she’d finished knitting the socks, before she wrote to him.
Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of Jack. They’d only been married a few weeks before he’d been cruelly snatched away – gone to fight a war she’d wanted no part of, but a war they had been dragged into anyway.
Running into the bedroom she’d shared with him for such a short time, she picked up the shirt he’d slept in and brought it to her nose, breathing deeply of the scent of him. Already, the smell of him on his belongings was fading. She could still remember him with vivid clarity – she could still feel the touch of his strong arms as they wrapped around her, she could imagine the rough scratch of his whiskers against her cheek as he rubbed his face against hers when he kissed her. She could still taste his salty lips. And she could still remember the way he smelled – a musky, masculine scent mixed with his tobacco. She could picture his murky blue eyes, the way she’d lost herself in the piercing depths when he’d smiled at her with his crooked toothed grin.
Returning the shirt to its spot on the bed, she fingered the locket she wore around her neck. She kept a lock of his hair inside, but the few short strands she’d gathered and stuffed into the pendant didn’t do justice to the gorgeous mane of golden hair that had flopped foppishly over his eyes and curled against his collar at the nape of his neck. She’d reached up behind him and tangled her fingers in it when they’d kissed, tugging at his hair, using it to pull him closer, so she could kiss him deeper. He was a good kisser. Just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of tongue, his soft lips were magical against hers.
He’d been so tall, so handsome, so strong. He’d leaned right out the window of the train, waving to her, as she’d ran along the platform as far as she could go, blowing him kisses, missing him already, before the train had even left. Many women had been at the train station that day – most of them saying goodbye to their men: mothers to sons, sisters to brothers, wives to husbands, girlfriends to boyfriends. There had been many tears; she hadn’t been alone in crying. There’d been pride that day, too, but mostly there’d been pain. So much pain. She knew, without really understanding, that she might never see him again; many soldiers never returned from war. Every day, another black-edged letter would arrive somewhere on the street, bringing tragic news to another grieving family.
Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, Elizabeth sniffed, took a deep breath, and returned to her chair by the fire. She picked up her knitting once more and painstakingly returned all the stitches to the needle, carefully going through and fixing all the mistakes she’d made. Jack deserved warm socks – the trenches would be muddy, wet and cold. She knew, from letters others on her street had received already, that there was a water shortage there, food rations were boring, and the awful square biscuits, a staple in their lacklustre diet, made better emergency paper than food.
She hated the idea of Jack living in the trenches, contending with those atrocious living conditions, the lice and flies. The idea of him being shot at, terrified her. Her heart broke when she sat in the rocking chair he’d liked. Would he ever get to sit in it again? Counting the stitches carefully, she concentrated on her knitting with a single-minded determination. Right now, knitting socks was the only thing she could do for her husband.
***
The letter had been unfolded and refolded so many times the paper was starting to tear along the creases. She knew every word off by heart. Jack hadn’t seen any fighting yet, his time at war so far, had mostly been digging trenches; miles upon miles of trench. She smiled upon seeing his familiar cursive script, the lettering all different sizes, the writing sloping the wrong way, smudged ink splotches in the middle of the paper. Only Jack could write such a letter. The last paragraph embedded itself in her heart so deeply she knew she would always remember the words: “My dearest Elizabeth, how I long to hold you in my arms again. Until we meet again, know I love you, forever.”
Elizabeth finished the socks and packaged them up and sent them off with a letter she’d sealed with a kiss. They hadn’t looked too bad in the end, the socks. Once she’d fixed the holes and stretched them out a bit it was obvious what they were meant to be and despite being a bit of an odd shape for a sock, they would work okay. She knew Jack would wear them proudly – he was always proud of everything she made for him, even if it didn’t quite turn out the way she’d hoped it would. But Jack had never minded if the end result had been a bit wonky; he was happy that she’d tried. That was the kind of man that he was. He was sweet and he was kind. Elizabeth paced the porch. She missed him.
Weeks went by. She was on her third pair of socks now, her knitting getting better, the stitches more even, the finished socks actually starting to look something like socks now, and not just a knitted blob. This was a stripy pair – she was getting fancy. It was so wrong that instead of cooking her husband’s meals, mending his pants, tending to his house, all she could do was knit him socks. She could write letters, send him care packages from home … and knit socks. Her heart ached. She longed to do so much more.
***
She was in the kitchen, up to her elbows in flour making bread when the distinctive, dreaded, black-edged envelope arrived. With hands covered in dough she sank to the floor, her body like lead. Her heart stopped momentarily, and when it started beating again it thumped erratically, a crazy tempo that matched her distress. She’d tried to scream but she couldn’t get enough air. When she’d opened her mouth to suck in a breath it had got caught in her throat and nearly suffocated her and she’d thought she was dying. Not that dying would be a bad thing; she could be with Jack, then. She didn’t even want to live anymore, not without him. Her shoulder shook in silent sobs as the tears pooled on the floor under her face. She couldn’t move, her body was too heavy. And what was the point of moving anyway, if Jack was dead? There was no point to life, if Jack wasn’t sharing it with her.
For hours she stayed there on the floor, too distraught to pick herself up. The envelope remained unopened. But there was no point opening it – she knew what it said. Not the precise wording, obviously, but the general gist of it – the “sorry Jack is dead”part – she knew that bit. But she couldn’t bring herself to read the words. Reading the words would make it real, and it couldn’t be real. She didn’t want it to be real; she wouldn’t let it be real. Jack could not be dead – he wasn’t allowed to be – she needed him.
For two weeks the envelope stayed there, on the mantle, just watching her. She was aware of its existence; she saw it out of the corner of her eye every time she went near it. But she refused to open it. She couldn’t face reading those words. She wanted to throw it away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that, either. The letter, even bearing such tragic news, was her final link to Jack. Even if she never opened it, she needed to keep it.
Elizabeth opened the letter, eventually. Carefully, she slid a knife under the seal, prising the black-edged envelope open gently, so as not to damage it more than necessary. She slid out the paper, holding it between trembling fingers, her hand shaking so badly she could barely read it.
“Killed” jumped off the page at her. How many other women had read those same words? How many other men’s lives had been tragically cut so short due to this war? How many other bodies would be buried where Jack lay, in a mass, unmarked grave behind the trenches somewhere in Anzac Cove? Her tears dropped onto the paper, blurring her vision, smudging the ink. She folded it back up again, the folds precise, perfect, and slid it back into the envelope, the black stripe around the edges not letting her forget that the information within was devastating.
Elizabeth went through the motions of living, but inside she was numb. Every smile was forced, every emotion felt dull, clouded by her sadness. They’d just been newlyweds, they’d been meant to have their whole lives together to look forward to. And now, just like that, he was gone. His life snuffed out like a candle in the wind, prey to … what? A sniper’s bullet? A bayonet in a charge? She would probably never know.
The looks of sympathy from the ladies she met in the street only served to increase her pain, despite the kind way they were intended.
Every time the train left from the station with another consignment of young men on board to fight for their mother country and their freedom, her heart broke a little bit more. How many of those young men would come back? As she watched the women left behind, dabbing at their eyes with embroidered handkerchiefs, she hoped for them, that the men would return. Wounded in body and in mind, perhaps, but she hoped they would return. Not like Jack. She would never see Jack again.
***
The writing on the envelope was an unfamiliar, wobbly script, like it had been written with an unpractised hand. It was smeared with dirt and creased; its journey from the sender to her had likely been an arduous one.
Taking a seat in the rocking chair Jack had preferred, she slid her fingernail under the seal fixing the envelope closed and pulled out a single sheet of paper, filled with scrawl that was difficult to read at first, with capital letters thrown in randomly and very little punctuation. She had to read it over several times before it made sense.
You don’t know me, the letter had read. But I know quite a bit about you. I fought with Jack on the front and he talked of you all the time. I want you to know that he died a hero – he saved the lives of six of our comrades and he died in my arms, a hero. We will never forget his bravery and courage under fire.His dying words were to you: Tell Elizabeth I love her, forever.
Of course he was a hero. That just the kind of man Jack was. She smiled sadly, appreciating the man who had taken the time to write to her, hoping his luck held out better than Jack’s had.
She pressed the paper against her skirts to dry the tears that had dropped there, smudging the ink, then carefully folded it in half and slipped it back inside the envelope. She kissed the seal.
“I love you, too, Jack,” she whispered. “Forever.”
~ The end. ~
The Black-Edged Letter: An ANZAC Day Short Story by Kelly Dawson
Ripping the stitches off the needle, Elizabeth hurled the sock she was knitting at the wall. It was the third stitch she’d dropped in as many rows, and already, the sock was so misshapen and holey it was unrecognisable as a sock. She kicked the table in front of her and sighed; she was wasting her time. Jack would have to be content with a letter instead; the war would be over if she waited until she’d finished knitting the socks, before she wrote to him.
Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of Jack. They’d only been married a few weeks before he’d been cruelly snatched away – gone to fight a war she’d wanted no part of, but a war they had been dragged into anyway.
Running into the bedroom she’d shared with him for such a short time, she picked up the shirt he’d slept in and brought it to her nose, breathing deeply of the scent of him. Already, the smell of him on his belongings was fading. She could still remember him with vivid clarity – she could still feel the touch of his strong arms as they wrapped around her, she could imagine the rough scratch of his whiskers against her cheek as he rubbed his face against hers when he kissed her. She could still taste his salty lips. And she could still remember the way he smelled – a musky, masculine scent mixed with his tobacco. She could picture his murky blue eyes, the way she’d lost herself in the piercing depths when he’d smiled at her with his crooked toothed grin.
Returning the shirt to its spot on the bed, she fingered the locket she wore around her neck. She kept a lock of his hair inside, but the few short strands she’d gathered and stuffed into the pendant didn’t do justice to the gorgeous mane of golden hair that had flopped foppishly over his eyes and curled against his collar at the nape of his neck. She’d reached up behind him and tangled her fingers in it when they’d kissed, tugging at his hair, using it to pull him closer, so she could kiss him deeper. He was a good kisser. Just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of tongue, his soft lips were magical against hers.
He’d been so tall, so handsome, so strong. He’d leaned right out the window of the train, waving to her, as she’d ran along the platform as far as she could go, blowing him kisses, missing him already, before the train had even left. Many women had been at the train station that day – most of them saying goodbye to their men: mothers to sons, sisters to brothers, wives to husbands, girlfriends to boyfriends. There had been many tears; she hadn’t been alone in crying. There’d been pride that day, too, but mostly there’d been pain. So much pain. She knew, without really understanding, that she might never see him again; many soldiers never returned from war. Every day, another black-edged letter would arrive somewhere on the street, bringing tragic news to another grieving family.
Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, Elizabeth sniffed, took a deep breath, and returned to her chair by the fire. She picked up her knitting once more and painstakingly returned all the stitches to the needle, carefully going through and fixing all the mistakes she’d made. Jack deserved warm socks – the trenches would be muddy, wet and cold. She knew, from letters others on her street had received already, that there was a water shortage there, food rations were boring, and the awful square biscuits, a staple in their lacklustre diet, made better emergency paper than food.
She hated the idea of Jack living in the trenches, contending with those atrocious living conditions, the lice and flies. The idea of him being shot at, terrified her. Her heart broke when she sat in the rocking chair he’d liked. Would he ever get to sit in it again? Counting the stitches carefully, she concentrated on her knitting with a single-minded determination. Right now, knitting socks was the only thing she could do for her husband.
***
The letter had been unfolded and refolded so many times the paper was starting to tear along the creases. She knew every word off by heart. Jack hadn’t seen any fighting yet, his time at war so far, had mostly been digging trenches; miles upon miles of trench. She smiled upon seeing his familiar cursive script, the lettering all different sizes, the writing sloping the wrong way, smudged ink splotches in the middle of the paper. Only Jack could write such a letter. The last paragraph embedded itself in her heart so deeply she knew she would always remember the words: “My dearest Elizabeth, how I long to hold you in my arms again. Until we meet again, know I love you, forever.”
Elizabeth finished the socks and packaged them up and sent them off with a letter she’d sealed with a kiss. They hadn’t looked too bad in the end, the socks. Once she’d fixed the holes and stretched them out a bit it was obvious what they were meant to be and despite being a bit of an odd shape for a sock, they would work okay. She knew Jack would wear them proudly – he was always proud of everything she made for him, even if it didn’t quite turn out the way she’d hoped it would. But Jack had never minded if the end result had been a bit wonky; he was happy that she’d tried. That was the kind of man that he was. He was sweet and he was kind. Elizabeth paced the porch. She missed him.
Weeks went by. She was on her third pair of socks now, her knitting getting better, the stitches more even, the finished socks actually starting to look something like socks now, and not just a knitted blob. This was a stripy pair – she was getting fancy. It was so wrong that instead of cooking her husband’s meals, mending his pants, tending to his house, all she could do was knit him socks. She could write letters, send him care packages from home … and knit socks. Her heart ached. She longed to do so much more.
***
She was in the kitchen, up to her elbows in flour making bread when the distinctive, dreaded, black-edged envelope arrived. With hands covered in dough she sank to the floor, her body like lead. Her heart stopped momentarily, and when it started beating again it thumped erratically, a crazy tempo that matched her distress. She’d tried to scream but she couldn’t get enough air. When she’d opened her mouth to suck in a breath it had got caught in her throat and nearly suffocated her and she’d thought she was dying. Not that dying would be a bad thing; she could be with Jack, then. She didn’t even want to live anymore, not without him. Her shoulder shook in silent sobs as the tears pooled on the floor under her face. She couldn’t move, her body was too heavy. And what was the point of moving anyway, if Jack was dead? There was no point to life, if Jack wasn’t sharing it with her.
For hours she stayed there on the floor, too distraught to pick herself up. The envelope remained unopened. But there was no point opening it – she knew what it said. Not the precise wording, obviously, but the general gist of it – the “sorry Jack is dead”part – she knew that bit. But she couldn’t bring herself to read the words. Reading the words would make it real, and it couldn’t be real. She didn’t want it to be real; she wouldn’t let it be real. Jack could not be dead – he wasn’t allowed to be – she needed him.
For two weeks the envelope stayed there, on the mantle, just watching her. She was aware of its existence; she saw it out of the corner of her eye every time she went near it. But she refused to open it. She couldn’t face reading those words. She wanted to throw it away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that, either. The letter, even bearing such tragic news, was her final link to Jack. Even if she never opened it, she needed to keep it.
Elizabeth opened the letter, eventually. Carefully, she slid a knife under the seal, prising the black-edged envelope open gently, so as not to damage it more than necessary. She slid out the paper, holding it between trembling fingers, her hand shaking so badly she could barely read it.
“Killed” jumped off the page at her. How many other women had read those same words? How many other men’s lives had been tragically cut so short due to this war? How many other bodies would be buried where Jack lay, in a mass, unmarked grave behind the trenches somewhere in Anzac Cove? Her tears dropped onto the paper, blurring her vision, smudging the ink. She folded it back up again, the folds precise, perfect, and slid it back into the envelope, the black stripe around the edges not letting her forget that the information within was devastating.
Elizabeth went through the motions of living, but inside she was numb. Every smile was forced, every emotion felt dull, clouded by her sadness. They’d just been newlyweds, they’d been meant to have their whole lives together to look forward to. And now, just like that, he was gone. His life snuffed out like a candle in the wind, prey to … what? A sniper’s bullet? A bayonet in a charge? She would probably never know.
The looks of sympathy from the ladies she met in the street only served to increase her pain, despite the kind way they were intended.
Every time the train left from the station with another consignment of young men on board to fight for their mother country and their freedom, her heart broke a little bit more. How many of those young men would come back? As she watched the women left behind, dabbing at their eyes with embroidered handkerchiefs, she hoped for them, that the men would return. Wounded in body and in mind, perhaps, but she hoped they would return. Not like Jack. She would never see Jack again.
***
The writing on the envelope was an unfamiliar, wobbly script, like it had been written with an unpractised hand. It was smeared with dirt and creased; its journey from the sender to her had likely been an arduous one.
Taking a seat in the rocking chair Jack had preferred, she slid her fingernail under the seal fixing the envelope closed and pulled out a single sheet of paper, filled with scrawl that was difficult to read at first, with capital letters thrown in randomly and very little punctuation. She had to read it over several times before it made sense.
You don’t know me, the letter had read. But I know quite a bit about you. I fought with Jack on the front and he talked of you all the time. I want you to know that he died a hero – he saved the lives of six of our comrades and he died in my arms, a hero. We will never forget his bravery and courage under fire.His dying words were to you: Tell Elizabeth I love her, forever.
Of course he was a hero. That just the kind of man Jack was. She smiled sadly, appreciating the man who had taken the time to write to her, hoping his luck held out better than Jack’s had.
She pressed the paper against her skirts to dry the tears that had dropped there, smudging the ink, then carefully folded it in half and slipped it back inside the envelope. She kissed the seal.
“I love you, too, Jack,” she whispered. “Forever.”
~ The end. ~
April 21, 2017
A Taste of Wonderland ~ Allison West
I'm thrilled to have Allison West on my blog today sharing her contemporary age-play spanky romance. Check out this disclaimer! (It will make you want to read the book
