Renee Rose's Blog, page 70
February 4, 2014
Announcing Held for Ransom, a story that holds my whole heart
I am very excited to announce the imminent release of Held for Ransom, a medieval spanking romance set in the pre-Arthurian days when pagan priestesses and druids existed alongside Christian knights.There are some stories that are just so vivid to me, they truly call to me and have my whole heart. This is one of them. I realize the themes of knights and women who can see through the veils of 3D existence are similar to those of The Knight's Prisoner, so I suppose this is a theme with deep meaning to me. I don't know--I have been fascinated with the Arthurian legend since I was a child, particularly adoring Mary Stewart's Crystal Cave series as well as Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon. I have also worked in recent years to release my fears around my own clairsentience and to trust the guidance available to me.
Part of what interested me in setting a book during this time period is showing the tension in a relationship in which the divine feminine is respected and yet the physicality of masculine dominance is still present and necessary for survival. Princess Ariana is a priestess at Avalon, kidnapped (oops, another similarity to the Knight's Prisoner--guess I love that theme too) by Sir Gorran and held for ransom for an exchange of prisoners (Sir Gorran's sister has been abducted). Sir Gorran is the sort of man who has the utmost respect for Ariana and her station as priestess, yet spanks her when discipline is warranted. There aren't as many spankings in this novella as some of mine (wait till you read "Unmet Desire" from the Milestones anthology--it's about bootcamp, so it's chock full!) but I didn't want to add any that didn't fit just for the sake of more spanking. I wanted to stay true to the characters and tell their story as it appeared to me.
I hope you will read it when it comes out Feb. 20th and let me know what you think.
February 1, 2014
Public Sex/Spanking - are you into it?
I wanted to talk about public sex today. Long before I admitted to my husband my obsession with spanking, we already colored outside the lines in our sex life. He has a threesome fetish and we both have a streak of exhibitionism. We have had sex in more unlikely and public places than I can recall. Actually, I don’t think it’s true exhibitionism because we don’t actually want to be caught or seen, it’s more of the raised stakes, knowing we *might* be caught that makes it so exceptionally naughty and therefore exciting. Sneaking off during a party is one of our favorite tricks. I drew on personal experience when I wrote the scene in my new spanking romance Humbled in which the characters sneak off for a quickie:
“I have missed my wife,” he said pulling her toward the edge of the garden, beyond the lamplight.
“Where are you taking me, Jean-Claude?”
He stopped near a low wall, wrapping his arms around her and taking her mouth with a hungry kiss.
She laughed, pulling away. “Not here, monsieur, you will cause a scandal!”
“We will have to be very quiet,” he said turning her around and pushing her torso down.
She gripped the wall for stability. “Jean-Claude!”
“Shh. Remember when I said I would take my wife any time and any way I pleased?”
“No, please, Jean-Claude,” she protested, though her heart pounded more from arousal than fear.
“You do not want a spanking out here, do you, love? They will surely hear the sound of my hand punishing your pretty little bottom.”
“You would not dare!”
He pulled up her skirts, parting the slit in the new drawers she had adopted wearing as part of the new fashion. He stroked his fingers over her slit. “You are already wet for me, darling.” His hand retreated, shocking her when it returned as a light slap right over her delicate sex.
She gasped. “Jean-Claude!”
“To whom does this little pussy belong?”
“To you!” she said quickly, but did not manage to forestall another slap. The sound from her lips was more wanton than protesting though, as her pussy suddenly burned with need. She widened her stance, hollowing her back to offer herself.
His fingers returned. “Good girl,” he purred. She heard the rustle of clothing and the head of Jean-Claude’s length met her eager slit. He slapped her sex with his cock, making her giggle, then slid deep inside her.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed.
“You like my cock inside you, do you not, Madame Armand?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Say it.”
“I like your cock inside me!” she cried, the shameful words stoking her desire as much as the knowledge they might at any moment be seen by another guest.
Humbled
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00H...
Sentenced to die at age eleven for stealing a pig, Jean-Claude receives an unexpected reprieve when a young aristocrat girl takes the blame instead. When the mobs of the French Revolution fall upon her château years later, Jean-Claude knows he must save her and repay his debt, but as they begin their long flight to safety he makes it clear he is not her servant and he will deal firmly with any disobedience. Though he initially intends to send her off by ship, the beautiful, feisty Corinne inspires a fierce protectiveness in Jean-Claude that makes it hard to say goodbye.
Corinne is alternately infuriated and attracted to the handsome peasant who has no qualms about turning her over his knee and spanking her bare bottom when she steps out of line. When he ends up joining her on a ship to New Orleans, their futures become inextricably intertwined, but can a common-born blacksmith and the daughter of a lord find enough common ground to make a permanent match?
Buy now on Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble
“I have missed my wife,” he said pulling her toward the edge of the garden, beyond the lamplight.
“Where are you taking me, Jean-Claude?”
He stopped near a low wall, wrapping his arms around her and taking her mouth with a hungry kiss.
She laughed, pulling away. “Not here, monsieur, you will cause a scandal!”
“We will have to be very quiet,” he said turning her around and pushing her torso down.
She gripped the wall for stability. “Jean-Claude!”
“Shh. Remember when I said I would take my wife any time and any way I pleased?”
“No, please, Jean-Claude,” she protested, though her heart pounded more from arousal than fear.
“You do not want a spanking out here, do you, love? They will surely hear the sound of my hand punishing your pretty little bottom.”
“You would not dare!”
He pulled up her skirts, parting the slit in the new drawers she had adopted wearing as part of the new fashion. He stroked his fingers over her slit. “You are already wet for me, darling.” His hand retreated, shocking her when it returned as a light slap right over her delicate sex.
She gasped. “Jean-Claude!”
“To whom does this little pussy belong?”
“To you!” she said quickly, but did not manage to forestall another slap. The sound from her lips was more wanton than protesting though, as her pussy suddenly burned with need. She widened her stance, hollowing her back to offer herself.
His fingers returned. “Good girl,” he purred. She heard the rustle of clothing and the head of Jean-Claude’s length met her eager slit. He slapped her sex with his cock, making her giggle, then slid deep inside her.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed.
“You like my cock inside you, do you not, Madame Armand?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Say it.”
“I like your cock inside me!” she cried, the shameful words stoking her desire as much as the knowledge they might at any moment be seen by another guest.
Humbled
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00H...
Sentenced to die at age eleven for stealing a pig, Jean-Claude receives an unexpected reprieve when a young aristocrat girl takes the blame instead. When the mobs of the French Revolution fall upon her château years later, Jean-Claude knows he must save her and repay his debt, but as they begin their long flight to safety he makes it clear he is not her servant and he will deal firmly with any disobedience. Though he initially intends to send her off by ship, the beautiful, feisty Corinne inspires a fierce protectiveness in Jean-Claude that makes it hard to say goodbye.
Corinne is alternately infuriated and attracted to the handsome peasant who has no qualms about turning her over his knee and spanking her bare bottom when she steps out of line. When he ends up joining her on a ship to New Orleans, their futures become inextricably intertwined, but can a common-born blacksmith and the daughter of a lord find enough common ground to make a permanent match?
Buy now on Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble
January 19, 2014
Spanking as an orientation
Emily Tilton posed the question about whether I consider my interest in spanking to be an orientation or a practice.
I had never considered my spankophilia to be an orientation until I began to crawl out of the closet as a spanking romance author this past year. I had this fear previously, that I might get kicked off the PTA or whispered about behind my back. Then I realized I would never become a successful author if I can’t own up to what I write.
I was explaining my thoughts to a friend who happens to be gay, and he made the analogy to the Gay Pride movement. It truly changed the way I think of TTWD. It is an orientation, hard-wired into me since birth. It did not stem from a traumatic event, or a parenting style, or lack of Daddy love. No amount of squelching or hiding will make it go away. It is my guaranteed on-button for sex, whereas vanilla sex can be hit or miss. Though I used to try, I no longer believe it can be “cured” or ignored without damaging effects and I now find the notion that there’s something wrong with it to be offensive.
Thinking of it as an orientation, rather than a kink or fetish puts it in a “sex-positive” light. Similar to homosexuality, an estimated ten percent of the population has a D/s orientation as their sexual preference, yet it is consistently mocked in mainstream culture, the way homosexuality once was (and still is in some circles). I can only hope as I gain more confidence in waving my freak flag and writing about characters like me, others can shake off their own shame around their orientation.
I guess it would be safe to say Jean-Claude, the hero of my new French Revolution spanking romance has a similar orientation. Here’s an excerpt of a conversation he has with Corinne, the heroine:
“Jean-Claude?” Her voice crackled in the silent room.
He rolled over to face her. “Yes?”
“Did you spank your wife?”
He remained silent so long she thought he would not answer. “Yes,” he said at last.
“Forgive me, does it pain you?”
“Yes. But it is also a relief to speak of her to you.”
She wondered if the “to you” meant her, in particular, but did not have the courage to ask.
“Why did you punish her?”
Jean-Claude rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. “It was almost always over silver. We never had enough money, you know, and we had different ideas about what it should be spent on. She would purposely disobey my wishes, accepting I would whip her for it, and remain determined with her decision.”
In the darkness, she thought she saw a rueful smile on his lips. “It was hard to be angry with her, she would confess so humbly and offer herself up for chastisement.”
“You liked punishing her.”
His eyes slid sideways. “I guess I did--most times. She was so terribly sweet about it and she rarely cried, no matter how hard I punished. She only cried if I was truly angry--she knew, I suppose--and then she would weep before I even began. Those punishments I never finished.”
She had pressed the fingers of one hand over her sex, but dared not move them. She burned with curiosity about their punishments--did he rub his wife’s bottom and touch her between her legs during them? Did he take her afterward? and how? Was it possible to take a woman in the position she had been in that evening, bent over his lap? Irrational envy for the dead woman smoldered in her chest for the great intimacy she must have had with her tender blacksmith. She fell asleep with her hand cupping her mons, discreet fingers pressing and releasing on her sex as if playing a pianoforte.
Humbled
blurb:
Sentenced to die at age eleven for stealing a pig, Jean-Claude receives an unexpected reprieve when a young aristocrat girl takes the blame instead. When the mobs of the French Revolution fall upon her château years later, Jean-Claude knows he must save her and repay his debt, but as they begin their long flight to safety he makes it clear he is not her servant and he will deal firmly with any disobedience. Though he initially intends to send her off by ship, the beautiful, feisty Corinne inspires a fierce protectiveness in Jean-Claude that makes it hard to say goodbye.
Corinne is alternately infuriated and attracted to the handsome peasant who has no qualms about turning her over his knee and spanking her bare bottom when she steps out of line. When he ends up joining her on a ship to New Orleans, their futures become inextricably intertwined, but can a common-born blacksmith and the daughter of a lord find enough common ground to make a permanent match?
I had never considered my spankophilia to be an orientation until I began to crawl out of the closet as a spanking romance author this past year. I had this fear previously, that I might get kicked off the PTA or whispered about behind my back. Then I realized I would never become a successful author if I can’t own up to what I write.
I was explaining my thoughts to a friend who happens to be gay, and he made the analogy to the Gay Pride movement. It truly changed the way I think of TTWD. It is an orientation, hard-wired into me since birth. It did not stem from a traumatic event, or a parenting style, or lack of Daddy love. No amount of squelching or hiding will make it go away. It is my guaranteed on-button for sex, whereas vanilla sex can be hit or miss. Though I used to try, I no longer believe it can be “cured” or ignored without damaging effects and I now find the notion that there’s something wrong with it to be offensive.
Thinking of it as an orientation, rather than a kink or fetish puts it in a “sex-positive” light. Similar to homosexuality, an estimated ten percent of the population has a D/s orientation as their sexual preference, yet it is consistently mocked in mainstream culture, the way homosexuality once was (and still is in some circles). I can only hope as I gain more confidence in waving my freak flag and writing about characters like me, others can shake off their own shame around their orientation.
I guess it would be safe to say Jean-Claude, the hero of my new French Revolution spanking romance has a similar orientation. Here’s an excerpt of a conversation he has with Corinne, the heroine:
“Jean-Claude?” Her voice crackled in the silent room.
He rolled over to face her. “Yes?”
“Did you spank your wife?”
He remained silent so long she thought he would not answer. “Yes,” he said at last.
“Forgive me, does it pain you?”
“Yes. But it is also a relief to speak of her to you.”
She wondered if the “to you” meant her, in particular, but did not have the courage to ask.
“Why did you punish her?”
Jean-Claude rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. “It was almost always over silver. We never had enough money, you know, and we had different ideas about what it should be spent on. She would purposely disobey my wishes, accepting I would whip her for it, and remain determined with her decision.”
In the darkness, she thought she saw a rueful smile on his lips. “It was hard to be angry with her, she would confess so humbly and offer herself up for chastisement.”
“You liked punishing her.”
His eyes slid sideways. “I guess I did--most times. She was so terribly sweet about it and she rarely cried, no matter how hard I punished. She only cried if I was truly angry--she knew, I suppose--and then she would weep before I even began. Those punishments I never finished.”
She had pressed the fingers of one hand over her sex, but dared not move them. She burned with curiosity about their punishments--did he rub his wife’s bottom and touch her between her legs during them? Did he take her afterward? and how? Was it possible to take a woman in the position she had been in that evening, bent over his lap? Irrational envy for the dead woman smoldered in her chest for the great intimacy she must have had with her tender blacksmith. She fell asleep with her hand cupping her mons, discreet fingers pressing and releasing on her sex as if playing a pianoforte.
Humbled
blurb:
Sentenced to die at age eleven for stealing a pig, Jean-Claude receives an unexpected reprieve when a young aristocrat girl takes the blame instead. When the mobs of the French Revolution fall upon her château years later, Jean-Claude knows he must save her and repay his debt, but as they begin their long flight to safety he makes it clear he is not her servant and he will deal firmly with any disobedience. Though he initially intends to send her off by ship, the beautiful, feisty Corinne inspires a fierce protectiveness in Jean-Claude that makes it hard to say goodbye.
Corinne is alternately infuriated and attracted to the handsome peasant who has no qualms about turning her over his knee and spanking her bare bottom when she steps out of line. When he ends up joining her on a ship to New Orleans, their futures become inextricably intertwined, but can a common-born blacksmith and the daughter of a lord find enough common ground to make a permanent match?
December 31, 2013
Reading the Marquis de Sade
Another snippet from my French Revolution story, which should be released in the next week or two. As the peasant Jean-Claude escorts Cosette to the port city Le Havre, he discovers she has read the work of the Marquis de Sade...
Your blush tells me you know the stories, too. Did you read them, Cosette?”
She swallowed. She tried to say “no,” but the lie stuck in her throat, as she could already see Jean-Claude knew the truth. She sank onto the stool and removed her slippers, ignoring him.
“Why did you read them, Cosette?” He wrapped his large hand around the knot of hair at the back of her head and tugged it so her head fell back. Lowering his lips close to her ear, he said, “Did you want to understand how a man could find pleasure hurting a woman?”
Your blush tells me you know the stories, too. Did you read them, Cosette?”
She swallowed. She tried to say “no,” but the lie stuck in her throat, as she could already see Jean-Claude knew the truth. She sank onto the stool and removed her slippers, ignoring him.
“Why did you read them, Cosette?” He wrapped his large hand around the knot of hair at the back of her head and tugged it so her head fell back. Lowering his lips close to her ear, he said, “Did you want to understand how a man could find pleasure hurting a woman?”
December 14, 2013
It's going to be a bare bottom spanking this time"
Excerpt from SAVED, a holiday spanking story about a wounded warrior working as rent-a-cop in the mall over Christmas. This scene happens the day after Jack first spanked Melinda in the security office, but failed to ask her out afterward.**********
Melinda’s kick landed precisely on his titanium-plated bone, sending shards of pain shooting up his leg and down his foot. He ignored it, the agony of Melinda’s distress far outweighing it. He caught her around the waist before she reached the door, spinning her back to him and pushing her up against the wall, where he pinned her with his larger frame. He cupped her jaw, holding it so she could not look away.
“Melinda, it’s not like that. I’ve been dying to ask you out. I just--I didn’t do it yesterday because you wouldn’t look at me, and I thought maybe you were giving me the brush-off. Today when you looked mad, I realized I’d screwed up. I’m sorry. Truly. Will you go out with me? Please?”
She studied his face as if considering. Her eyes were big--chocolate brown with gold flecks, expertly made up, of course, without being overdone. She smelled sweet, like citrus or watermelon.
“You gotta cut me some slack,” he wheedled, “I haven’t dated much over the past ten years. I’ve been living with a bunch of soldiers and just hooking up with girls here and there at bars. I’m out of practice.”
She gave a wry smile. “What was your method there, grabbing them around the waist and throwing them up against the wall?”
He immediately relaxed his grip but did not release her jaw. “I’m sorry, did I scare you?”
“No, I kinda liked it,” she murmured.
He moved in closer. “I think I’m starting to get your number,” he said, leaning forward and tasting her glossy lips. They were soft and giving, answering back by parting and allowing his tongue entry. He licked into her mouth, tangling his lips over hers, invading her as his hand dragged down her throat.
When he pulled away, her eyes were shining. “Was that a yes?”
She shrugged. “You had me at the wall-pin.”
He chuckled and stepped back, ready to usher her to the door but his damn ankle was still in a spasm from her kick and he lurched, stumbling to catch himself. He swore inwardly. Nothing like a gimp leg to impress a girl.
“Oh God, did I do that? I kicked your bad leg didn’t I?”
He was about to snap it was nothing when he realized his opportunity. Trying to pivot as gracefully as he could, he raised one eyebrow. “Yes, you did. And you know, little girls who throw kicking tantrums get spanked,” he said firmly. “And it’s going to be a bare bottom spanking this time.”
BLURB
Jack could not sink lower than working as a rent-a-cop at the department store during Christmas, but with the injury to his leg during his tour to Iraq, his preferred careers are closed to him. The only bright spot of the job is watching Melinda, the vivacious brunette behind the cosmetics counter. When she takes off after a shoplifter, needlessly endangering herself, he threatens a spanking and to his surprise, finds she is amenable to his punishment.
Enamored with the dominant but wounded warrior who comes to her rescue, Melinda lets Jack take her in hand, but finds herself repeatedly shut out emotionally. Not understanding it results from self-loathing over his injury rather than a lack of interest, she writes him off. But when real danger threatens, Jack steps in again.
Can he reveal his true feelings this time? And if so, will her submission to his discipline help him feel like a man again?
This title is part of our holiday “box set” offering, “The Naughty List” - Available for a LIMITED TIME only! Grab this amazing holiday collection of five novellas from some of old-fashioned romance's favorite authors. Each of these five books is all-new for the 2013 Holiday season. Almost 130,000 words of reading for one great low price. (50% less than purchasing separately)
November 20, 2013
Want me to read you a bedtime story?
This week I'm being featured on the Goodreads BDSM Bedtime Stories.
I guess as part of my on-going de-lurking, I am now presenting my own reading voice! I recorded the first section of The Bossman, the story that won the Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author contest last month. Please give it a listen, and join me over at Goodreads for Pillow Talk
Also, as a token of my appreciation, I'm offering another giveaway, and this time you have all week to enter.
The Bossman by Renee Rose
(c) Renee Rose and Riverdale Ave Books
This story is the winner of Eroticon USA's contest for the Next Top Erotic Author
Sophie Palazzo steered clear of the mafia after her father's involvement ended with his murder. Fifteen years later, Joey La Torre, the Don's brother himself, shows up unannounced at her massage studio and wheedles his way into a date. She has no interest in aggressive, macho men like Joey, or so she tries to tell herself, but her body just doesn't get the message. When Joey takes her in hand with a firm bare-bottomed spanking, she ought to be furious, instead, she's aroused. As she explores her physical desires to be dominated, she tries to keep Joey at arm's length emotionally.
Joey knows he wants Sophie for keeps from the moment he walks into her life. She is hot, classy and full of fire, even though submission turns her on. But his involvement in the mafia is a hard limit for her, bringing to conflict his own dedication to the Family, the code of silence and his relationship with his older brother. Can he reconcile his duty to the organization and his growing need for Sophie to remain in his life permanently?
Publisher's Note: The Bossman contains graphic sexual scenes, consensual and non-consensual adult spanking, anal play, elements of BDSM. If such material offends you, please do not buy this book!
Release Date: Eroticon 2014: March 8th
I guess as part of my on-going de-lurking, I am now presenting my own reading voice! I recorded the first section of The Bossman, the story that won the Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author contest last month. Please give it a listen, and join me over at Goodreads for Pillow Talk
Also, as a token of my appreciation, I'm offering another giveaway, and this time you have all week to enter.
The Bossman by Renee Rose
(c) Renee Rose and Riverdale Ave Books
This story is the winner of Eroticon USA's contest for the Next Top Erotic Author
Sophie Palazzo steered clear of the mafia after her father's involvement ended with his murder. Fifteen years later, Joey La Torre, the Don's brother himself, shows up unannounced at her massage studio and wheedles his way into a date. She has no interest in aggressive, macho men like Joey, or so she tries to tell herself, but her body just doesn't get the message. When Joey takes her in hand with a firm bare-bottomed spanking, she ought to be furious, instead, she's aroused. As she explores her physical desires to be dominated, she tries to keep Joey at arm's length emotionally.
Joey knows he wants Sophie for keeps from the moment he walks into her life. She is hot, classy and full of fire, even though submission turns her on. But his involvement in the mafia is a hard limit for her, bringing to conflict his own dedication to the Family, the code of silence and his relationship with his older brother. Can he reconcile his duty to the organization and his growing need for Sophie to remain in his life permanently?
Publisher's Note: The Bossman contains graphic sexual scenes, consensual and non-consensual adult spanking, anal play, elements of BDSM. If such material offends you, please do not buy this book!
Release Date: Eroticon 2014: March 8th
November 10, 2013
Feminism and Submission
The topic of feminism and spanking is one very close to my heart. Raised by a single mom with a liberal bent, I've always been a feminist, but it was cemented my first day of college where I learned the whole "women have an extra rib thing" was bogus.
Still, I had this strange *fear* of men. Male authority made my knees go weak. Male teachers, professors, and bosses could all reduce me to a stuttering fool. Not that I wasn't also submissive with female authority, but the men... shudder. And no wonder, when I put myself to sleep at night (every night, from the earliest age I can remember) masturbating to the idea of being spanked by one.
In first grade the male teacher in the classroom next door told me to see him after school for yelling on the bus. I was so certain he was going to spank me. I literally made myself sick that afternoon-my tummy ached, I couldn't think--it was horrible. When I went to his classroom, pale and trembling like a leaf, he looked at me and all he said was, "Don't yell on the bus." I was ten parts relieved and maybe one tiny part disappointed there was no spanking.
Not understanding my own complexities, I very fortunately chose a husband who was all alpha but supported my liberal feminist ways. As I went after my career with all guns blazing (determined not to end up stranded the way my mom had--letting her career take a sideline to my dad's and then having to support us on a secretary's wages), my husband sent me off with a "go get 'em, Tiger."
As I made my way up the corporate ladder, I finally put it together that the masturbatory spanking fantasies occupying so much of my mind might be the reason I couldn't speak up for myself with the men. This was extremely troubling to me. I berated myself for having them. I ordered myself to turn them off. Sometimes I was able to go months or even years without allowing them into my head, but then once they popped in again, they took over. It was an addiction. An obsession.
It was not until I began writing spanking fiction that it seemed there was a useful outlet for them. With publication I came out of the closet with my amazing alpha husband and I was able to begin to start the process of detangling the social politics of feminism from the sexual.
And what do you know? The more I allowed myself to be submissive in the home, the more assertive I became out of it.
I'm still mulling over the exquisite irony that now that I'm self-actualized as a submissive, I am no longer submissive to all men-- only to the one I have chosen to submit to. I no longer perceive anyone as having "authority" over me. I don't work in the corporate grind anymore, but I know, just from feeling into the energy, that I would no longer cower from the CEO, VP or Sales Manager. I would speak my mind with confidence.
So am I still a feminist? You'd better believe it.
Do women deserve equal pay in the workplace? Equal rights, equal representation in government? In leadership? Yes, yes yes and yes. Do women deserve to be safe from sexual assault? Safe to express themselves sexually without being labeled a "slut"? (unless they like being called that). Emphatically, yes.
Do I think a woman can lead our country or a household just as well as a man? Absolutely I do. Still, I like to be spanked. I like to give my husband some authority over me. Does that mean I think a man has a God-given right to spank his wife? F*&k no. Sorry, but I can't sugar-coat that one. That's a hard line for me.
I will not criticism feminism. I am so grateful to my foremothers for their accomplishments guaranteeing me the right to vote, to own property, to not be considered property (unless I want to be because it's HAWT), to work any occupation I choose, including stay-at-home mom.
I do believe that in pushing for equal rights, it was forgotten that, in fact, women and men are different.
Women pushed hard to be more like men to succeed in the workplace and the gifts that women possess were set aside. Not to offend anyone on the spectrum of gender queer with this, because I believe we each possess a masculine and feminine side and the truly balanced people are in touch with both their yin and yang. But what I lament is that all the gifts of the yin were set aside in favor of the yang.
I believe as a feminist, I can embrace my femininity. I can revel in my intuition, my enormous capacity to love and nurture, my malleability to my environment or to my lover. I can choose to wear skirts and paint my nails. I can know without question, that my femininity is equally divine to masculinity. And that only when the two are in balance (both within ourselves and with our partners), as they are in the yin and yang symbol, are all sides actualized.
And if there is no shame in being feminine, no shame in desiring to feel submissive, desiring to be molded, governed, owned, I can offer my femininity to my lover, knowing he will hold sacred my gifts, just as I hold sacred his. Together and apart, we can both be in balance and actualized.
What do you think? Do women have an extra rib? No, just kidding. Do you honor the sacred feminine in your life? Or do you think it's subordinate to masculinity?
Still, I had this strange *fear* of men. Male authority made my knees go weak. Male teachers, professors, and bosses could all reduce me to a stuttering fool. Not that I wasn't also submissive with female authority, but the men... shudder. And no wonder, when I put myself to sleep at night (every night, from the earliest age I can remember) masturbating to the idea of being spanked by one.
In first grade the male teacher in the classroom next door told me to see him after school for yelling on the bus. I was so certain he was going to spank me. I literally made myself sick that afternoon-my tummy ached, I couldn't think--it was horrible. When I went to his classroom, pale and trembling like a leaf, he looked at me and all he said was, "Don't yell on the bus." I was ten parts relieved and maybe one tiny part disappointed there was no spanking.
Not understanding my own complexities, I very fortunately chose a husband who was all alpha but supported my liberal feminist ways. As I went after my career with all guns blazing (determined not to end up stranded the way my mom had--letting her career take a sideline to my dad's and then having to support us on a secretary's wages), my husband sent me off with a "go get 'em, Tiger."
As I made my way up the corporate ladder, I finally put it together that the masturbatory spanking fantasies occupying so much of my mind might be the reason I couldn't speak up for myself with the men. This was extremely troubling to me. I berated myself for having them. I ordered myself to turn them off. Sometimes I was able to go months or even years without allowing them into my head, but then once they popped in again, they took over. It was an addiction. An obsession.
It was not until I began writing spanking fiction that it seemed there was a useful outlet for them. With publication I came out of the closet with my amazing alpha husband and I was able to begin to start the process of detangling the social politics of feminism from the sexual.
And what do you know? The more I allowed myself to be submissive in the home, the more assertive I became out of it.
I'm still mulling over the exquisite irony that now that I'm self-actualized as a submissive, I am no longer submissive to all men-- only to the one I have chosen to submit to. I no longer perceive anyone as having "authority" over me. I don't work in the corporate grind anymore, but I know, just from feeling into the energy, that I would no longer cower from the CEO, VP or Sales Manager. I would speak my mind with confidence.
So am I still a feminist? You'd better believe it.
Do women deserve equal pay in the workplace? Equal rights, equal representation in government? In leadership? Yes, yes yes and yes. Do women deserve to be safe from sexual assault? Safe to express themselves sexually without being labeled a "slut"? (unless they like being called that). Emphatically, yes.
Do I think a woman can lead our country or a household just as well as a man? Absolutely I do. Still, I like to be spanked. I like to give my husband some authority over me. Does that mean I think a man has a God-given right to spank his wife? F*&k no. Sorry, but I can't sugar-coat that one. That's a hard line for me.
I will not criticism feminism. I am so grateful to my foremothers for their accomplishments guaranteeing me the right to vote, to own property, to not be considered property (unless I want to be because it's HAWT), to work any occupation I choose, including stay-at-home mom.
I do believe that in pushing for equal rights, it was forgotten that, in fact, women and men are different.
Women pushed hard to be more like men to succeed in the workplace and the gifts that women possess were set aside. Not to offend anyone on the spectrum of gender queer with this, because I believe we each possess a masculine and feminine side and the truly balanced people are in touch with both their yin and yang. But what I lament is that all the gifts of the yin were set aside in favor of the yang.
I believe as a feminist, I can embrace my femininity. I can revel in my intuition, my enormous capacity to love and nurture, my malleability to my environment or to my lover. I can choose to wear skirts and paint my nails. I can know without question, that my femininity is equally divine to masculinity. And that only when the two are in balance (both within ourselves and with our partners), as they are in the yin and yang symbol, are all sides actualized.
And if there is no shame in being feminine, no shame in desiring to feel submissive, desiring to be molded, governed, owned, I can offer my femininity to my lover, knowing he will hold sacred my gifts, just as I hold sacred his. Together and apart, we can both be in balance and actualized.
What do you think? Do women have an extra rib? No, just kidding. Do you honor the sacred feminine in your life? Or do you think it's subordinate to masculinity?
October 25, 2013
Halloween Candie - Free Spanking Story
Halloween Candie (free spanking story) #SpankOrTreat
Welcome to Spank or Treat - the free spanking story extravaganza! Enjoy my story, then enter to win all kinds of great prizes!
Halloween Candie
Candie exited the Tucson Center for Developmentally Disabled at midnight, exhausted from her shift. She scanned the dark downtown streets for anyone she ought to avoid on her five block walk to her duplex. Downtown should lend comfort in numbers, but unless it was a weekend, the only people who roamed Congress Street after midnight were looking for trouble.
A man approached and while he didn’t look menacing, she held her keys pointed through her knuckles, as she’d learned in self-defense courses, then added her own self-devised protection--imagining a giant ball of light surrounding her.
The moment she imagined it, the man stopped in his tracks, staring as if he could see it. Her breath froze in her chest, heart pounded.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Is this for me?” he drawled in a faint British accent.
Vampire.
She didn’t know how she could tell, but the word had entered her mind clearly.
His grin broadened, showing sharp canines. “Yes,” he purred as if she’d spoken the word aloud. “And you are…what? A witchling? He cocked his head to the side, “Priestess?” He extended his fingertips in the air, touching what would be the edge of her ball of light and suddenly she could see it, too--a shimmering white wall of protection that rippled and repelled his touch.
Even in the streetlights she could tell he was beautiful--dark hair that fell to his collar, a square jaw with pork chop style side burns. Deep dimples crinkled now as he looked at her creation with apparent fascination. He turned the glittering gaze on her, locking eyes.
Energy shifted within her and she felt the sensation of her belly moving to the left as her chest moved to the right. Her bubble of light vanished. Gasping, she tensed to run, and he smiled wider.
“Oh yes, do run, little witchling. I so love a good chase.”
She stumbled backward. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a witch or a priestess. I’m nobody. I’m just a counselor at the School for the Disabled.”
He walked casually forward as she continued backing away. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“What? The bubble?” She shook her head. “I don’t know--I just invented it, I guess.”
“Powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Do you do other magic?”
She shook her head, looking around for anyone who might help her. “No, sir.” She didn’t know where the “sir” came from, but it amused him and he beamed another toothy grin, his fangs seeming to lengthen before her eyes.
It had been the eye contact that had burst the bubble. All she had to do was avoid eye contact. She threw up another bubble around her and took off running as fast as she could. She heard his laughter behind her, but did not hear sounds behind her as if he’d followed. Still, the hairs on her head stood up, warning her of something. She ran the seven blocks to her duplex and jabbed her key into the lock. Once inside, she checked the latches on the doors and windows, trying to catch her breath.
A stake through the heart. That was how you killed a vampire. And garlic. She looked around wildly for any kind of wooden stick. There-- the dowel in her little wall hanging. It might work. It was ¾ inches thick and 18 inches long. She brought it to the kitchen and began frantically carving the end into a crude point.
She almost screamed when she heard a knock on the door, but then her neighbor’s voice called out, “Hey, Candie, you got any smokes?”
“No, Jane! I don’t smoke, remember?” she called back.
“Well, can I come in?” Jane called.
Crap.
She went to the door, sharpened stake in hand, opening the door. Somehow, she was not at all surprised to see the vampire leaning in the door frame.
“Go back to your side,” he said softly to Jane, whose eyes were glassy and unfocused. She trotted obediently away, clearly hypnotized by the vampire.
Even as her brain processed it, her eyes slid to his and she was lost in the liquid brown pools, her belly moving to the left as her chest moved to the right.
“Come in,” she heard herself say.
He grinned broadly and pushed past her into the apartment.
The moment their gaze was broken she had her wits back and she launched herself at him, aiming for the middle of his upper back with the sharpened dowel.
He whirled and caught her wrist so quicky she didn’t see it happen, but the outrage registering on his features was clear. Wrestling the dowel from her, he snatched her up around the waist and carried her, kicking and squirming to the sofa, where he sat and pulled her ass-up over his lap.
The wooden dowel struck her wriggling bottom directly across both cheeks and she grunted in surprise. Again and again he brought it down as she struggled uselessly against his superhuman strength. After a half minute of this treatment, her butt was on fire, the pain growing exponentially with each fresh weal.
He stopped and she panted in relief, thinking it was over only to realize he was trying to pull her jeans down. He hauled her to her feet and held her legs, looking up into her eyes. The fury was gone from his expression and now it held only calm command. “Pull down your pants.”
He must not have used the glamour, because she did not feel the odd pulling sensation. “What?” she cried in outrage. “No!”
The corner of his lips lifted and he unbuttoned them for her, slowly pulling both her jeans and her panties to her mid-thigh as she stood humiliated, legs trembling, mind frantically searching for a means to escape.
“Defiance will earn you extra strokes, my dear,” he said with the same predatory smile he’d given when she’d been ready to run out on the street. As if he were a cat and she was his mouse. Oh yes, do run, little witchling. I so love a good chase. So at this point, he was just playing with his food.
A fresh wave of terror flooded her as he bent her back over his knee, starting afresh with the smooth wooden stake that she now wished she’d never pulled out of the wall-hanging.
“Ooomph. Ow!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut. The stake stung on her bare flesh. She kicked her legs, which made him chuckle. He beat a steady rhythm, as if the dowel were a drumstick and her flinching bottom were the drum. “Ooh. Ouch! Stop it!”
On and on he spanked until her entire bottom was blazing and she was quite certain she couldn’t take any more. “Please! Please, vampire! I’m sorry.”
“Ah,” he said, pausing in his assault on her lovely cheeks, then giving her three more stripes in quick succession. “Magic words. Say it like you mean it,” he purred. The pleasure of having a lovely girl over his knee sent the familiar sense of arousal and power coursing through his body. His momentary irritation with her attempt on his life had long since been eclipsed by the enjoyment of spanking her.
“I--I’m sorry, vampire. I’m sorry I tried to kill you with a stake. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
He chuckled and gave her another swift volley of spanks. “I’m not sure I believe you.” He had delivered a sound spanking by this point, and the hue of her firm, round buttocks had turned from pink to a mottled plum. He was surprised, but not disappointed she had not shed any tears yet. He knew she had pluck from her brazen wielding of the stake.
“Owww,” she whined. “Please, vampire. I’m sorry.”
He tucked the wooden stake in his shirt and ran a cool hand over her bare cheeks, the heat delicious. “That’s probably the best you can give me for now,” he mused, more to himself than to her. As he continued to make lazy circles over her swollen bottom, his cock twitched and he felt her stiffen, probably afraid he had sexual intentions.
“No, little witch,” he said, lifting her to stand and pulling her jeans and panties up before seating her on his lap. “That’s not what I want from you.”
She squirmed, her bottom obviously too sore to be comfortable on his hard thighs, but he held her firmly in place. Her hand slid to cover the alluring pulsing artery at her throat.
“No, I didn’t come for that, either.”
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“For your magic, my dear.”
A look of confusion shadowed her youthful face. “I don’t have any magic.”
“Ah, but you do, and it is quite powerful. I’ll need you to learn to use it, because there’s a curse that needs undoing.”
She shook her head. “I can’t help you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her expression was defiant, but he detected a look of panic beneath it.
“I need your power, witchling. You may not even realize you have it, but you do, and I’m not going to leave you alone until you’ve solved my dilemma.”
Her lips began to quiver, her chest moving rapidly with shallow breaths.
“Ah,” he said, softening his expression. “There are the tears.”
As if naming them, called them forth, her brave expression crumpled, and a choked sob erupted from her throat. He pulled her against his chest, tucking her head in against his neck and stroking her back like a kitten.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she sniffed when the sobs had slowed. “And I can’t believe you spanked me!”
He hid a smirk. He enjoyed the outrage of a modern women when they were turned over a man’s knee, and this one was full of fire to begin with. “Yes, well, I’m a bit old-fashioned when it comes to ladies. I come from a different era.”
She surprised him by laughing through her tears. “No, I mean, I tried to kill you with a wooden stake, and all you did was spank me.”
He grinned, admiring the buoyancy of her spirit. “Yes, well, you were afraid. I can’t really blame you for that, can I?”
She studied him with big brown eyes flecked with green, her copper-colored hair falling in her face. This one was special--even if he hadn’t seen the bubble of light she’d cast on the street, he could feel it now in her presence. He brought a hand to cup her face, stroking her lower lip with his thumb. “Lovely mortal. Candie, was it?”
She didn’t pull away from his touch, reading him with the same amount of attention he read her. “Candace. Yeah, I go by Candie.”
“So what era are you from?”
“I was turned in 1825.”
“Turned to vampire?”
He nodded.
A tiny shudder ran through her, but she continued to regard him boldly. She reached out and touched his side burns, sending a tiny shock of pleasure through him. “Hence you still like the pork chops?”
He caught the little hand touching his face and turned it over, his gaze inexorably drawn to the blue vein at her wrist. She noticed and snatched it back, holding it against her chest as she eyed him, warily.
“I’m not going to drain you and I’m not going to turn you, but I do require your full cooperation.” He put a finger under her chin. “Can you give that to me, Candie?”
The boldness in her expression had vanished and she swallowed. “Do I have any choice?” she asked hoarsely.
“No, my dear. You’ll live under my thumb until I have what I need from you.”
Spank or Treat 2013
Read all the Spank or Treat stories for the chance to win a GRAND PRIZE!
Kindle Fire or Nook HD (winner’s choice)!
(donated by Blushing Books)
$100 gift certificate to LazyDay
(donated by LazyDay Publishing)
$50 gift certificate to Blushing Books(donated by Blushing Books)
$20 gift certificate to Amazon!
(donated by Stormy Night Publications)
Custom-made Spank or Treat paddle*!
(donated by Blondie’s Place)
*Available to US and Canada participants only
Six-month membership to Discipline and Desire!
(donated by Discipline and Desire)
Book Bundle from Decadent Publishing
(Donated by Decadent Publishing)
Pre-publication consultation of a manuscript up to 15K(donated by Wizards in Publishing)
Plus, all Spank or Treaters are eligible for free books!
Holding Hannah, by Maren Smith
Available to the first 50 participants!
Love’s Reprise, by Cassandre Dayne, Lucy Felthouse, Olivia Starke, Kate Richards, and Anastasia Vitsky
Coming to Terms, by Cara Bristol, Jade Cary, Alta Hensley, Celeste Jones, Sue Lyndon, Renee Rose, and Anastasia VitskyAvailable to ALL participants who complete the Spank or Treat 2013 challenge!
Many authors will also be offering a contest on their individual blogs. Your comment on their blogs automatically enters you in both the main contest and the individual contests!
Here are the rules:
Visit each blog between the Friday, October 25th and Sunday, October 27th to read the posted stories and excerpts.
Leave a comment answering the story question on each blog. You will receive one entry per blog for the grand prize drawing. You will also be automatically entered in that author’s individual contest, if she has one.
If you have visited all of the blogs, visit Ana’s blog to sign up for FIVE bonus entries to the grand prize.
Deadline is midnight EDT (UTC -4) on October 27th!!
If you successfully completed the Spankee Doodle, Love Spanks, or last year’s Spank or Treat 2012 challenge, you may add “VIP” to your comments. You will earn THREE bonus entries toward the grand prize. (Yes, we will be doing this again. Yes, if you successfully complete the Spank or Treat challenge you can become a VIP for our next activity!)
Visit any of the participating blogs on Thursday, October 31st to find out the lucky winners. Will it be you?
So go have a ball! Read the stories from the participating authors:
Adaline Raine
Kathryn R. Blake
Alice Dark
Maren Smith
Anastasia Vitsky
Natasha Knight
Casey McKay
Renee Rose
Constance Masters
Tara Finnegan
Emily Tilton
PK Corey
Kate Richards
Answer this question for the chance to win your choice of any of my books:
What costume are you wearing for Halloween this year?
Welcome to Spank or Treat - the free spanking story extravaganza! Enjoy my story, then enter to win all kinds of great prizes!
Halloween Candie
Candie exited the Tucson Center for Developmentally Disabled at midnight, exhausted from her shift. She scanned the dark downtown streets for anyone she ought to avoid on her five block walk to her duplex. Downtown should lend comfort in numbers, but unless it was a weekend, the only people who roamed Congress Street after midnight were looking for trouble.
A man approached and while he didn’t look menacing, she held her keys pointed through her knuckles, as she’d learned in self-defense courses, then added her own self-devised protection--imagining a giant ball of light surrounding her.
The moment she imagined it, the man stopped in his tracks, staring as if he could see it. Her breath froze in her chest, heart pounded.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Is this for me?” he drawled in a faint British accent.
Vampire.
She didn’t know how she could tell, but the word had entered her mind clearly.
His grin broadened, showing sharp canines. “Yes,” he purred as if she’d spoken the word aloud. “And you are…what? A witchling? He cocked his head to the side, “Priestess?” He extended his fingertips in the air, touching what would be the edge of her ball of light and suddenly she could see it, too--a shimmering white wall of protection that rippled and repelled his touch.
Even in the streetlights she could tell he was beautiful--dark hair that fell to his collar, a square jaw with pork chop style side burns. Deep dimples crinkled now as he looked at her creation with apparent fascination. He turned the glittering gaze on her, locking eyes.
Energy shifted within her and she felt the sensation of her belly moving to the left as her chest moved to the right. Her bubble of light vanished. Gasping, she tensed to run, and he smiled wider.
“Oh yes, do run, little witchling. I so love a good chase.”
She stumbled backward. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a witch or a priestess. I’m nobody. I’m just a counselor at the School for the Disabled.”
He walked casually forward as she continued backing away. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“What? The bubble?” She shook her head. “I don’t know--I just invented it, I guess.”
“Powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Do you do other magic?”
She shook her head, looking around for anyone who might help her. “No, sir.” She didn’t know where the “sir” came from, but it amused him and he beamed another toothy grin, his fangs seeming to lengthen before her eyes.
It had been the eye contact that had burst the bubble. All she had to do was avoid eye contact. She threw up another bubble around her and took off running as fast as she could. She heard his laughter behind her, but did not hear sounds behind her as if he’d followed. Still, the hairs on her head stood up, warning her of something. She ran the seven blocks to her duplex and jabbed her key into the lock. Once inside, she checked the latches on the doors and windows, trying to catch her breath.
A stake through the heart. That was how you killed a vampire. And garlic. She looked around wildly for any kind of wooden stick. There-- the dowel in her little wall hanging. It might work. It was ¾ inches thick and 18 inches long. She brought it to the kitchen and began frantically carving the end into a crude point.
She almost screamed when she heard a knock on the door, but then her neighbor’s voice called out, “Hey, Candie, you got any smokes?”
“No, Jane! I don’t smoke, remember?” she called back.
“Well, can I come in?” Jane called.
Crap.
She went to the door, sharpened stake in hand, opening the door. Somehow, she was not at all surprised to see the vampire leaning in the door frame.
“Go back to your side,” he said softly to Jane, whose eyes were glassy and unfocused. She trotted obediently away, clearly hypnotized by the vampire.
Even as her brain processed it, her eyes slid to his and she was lost in the liquid brown pools, her belly moving to the left as her chest moved to the right.
“Come in,” she heard herself say.
He grinned broadly and pushed past her into the apartment.
The moment their gaze was broken she had her wits back and she launched herself at him, aiming for the middle of his upper back with the sharpened dowel.
He whirled and caught her wrist so quicky she didn’t see it happen, but the outrage registering on his features was clear. Wrestling the dowel from her, he snatched her up around the waist and carried her, kicking and squirming to the sofa, where he sat and pulled her ass-up over his lap.
The wooden dowel struck her wriggling bottom directly across both cheeks and she grunted in surprise. Again and again he brought it down as she struggled uselessly against his superhuman strength. After a half minute of this treatment, her butt was on fire, the pain growing exponentially with each fresh weal.
He stopped and she panted in relief, thinking it was over only to realize he was trying to pull her jeans down. He hauled her to her feet and held her legs, looking up into her eyes. The fury was gone from his expression and now it held only calm command. “Pull down your pants.”
He must not have used the glamour, because she did not feel the odd pulling sensation. “What?” she cried in outrage. “No!”
The corner of his lips lifted and he unbuttoned them for her, slowly pulling both her jeans and her panties to her mid-thigh as she stood humiliated, legs trembling, mind frantically searching for a means to escape.
“Defiance will earn you extra strokes, my dear,” he said with the same predatory smile he’d given when she’d been ready to run out on the street. As if he were a cat and she was his mouse. Oh yes, do run, little witchling. I so love a good chase. So at this point, he was just playing with his food.
A fresh wave of terror flooded her as he bent her back over his knee, starting afresh with the smooth wooden stake that she now wished she’d never pulled out of the wall-hanging.
“Ooomph. Ow!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut. The stake stung on her bare flesh. She kicked her legs, which made him chuckle. He beat a steady rhythm, as if the dowel were a drumstick and her flinching bottom were the drum. “Ooh. Ouch! Stop it!”
On and on he spanked until her entire bottom was blazing and she was quite certain she couldn’t take any more. “Please! Please, vampire! I’m sorry.”
“Ah,” he said, pausing in his assault on her lovely cheeks, then giving her three more stripes in quick succession. “Magic words. Say it like you mean it,” he purred. The pleasure of having a lovely girl over his knee sent the familiar sense of arousal and power coursing through his body. His momentary irritation with her attempt on his life had long since been eclipsed by the enjoyment of spanking her.
“I--I’m sorry, vampire. I’m sorry I tried to kill you with a stake. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
He chuckled and gave her another swift volley of spanks. “I’m not sure I believe you.” He had delivered a sound spanking by this point, and the hue of her firm, round buttocks had turned from pink to a mottled plum. He was surprised, but not disappointed she had not shed any tears yet. He knew she had pluck from her brazen wielding of the stake.
“Owww,” she whined. “Please, vampire. I’m sorry.”
He tucked the wooden stake in his shirt and ran a cool hand over her bare cheeks, the heat delicious. “That’s probably the best you can give me for now,” he mused, more to himself than to her. As he continued to make lazy circles over her swollen bottom, his cock twitched and he felt her stiffen, probably afraid he had sexual intentions.
“No, little witch,” he said, lifting her to stand and pulling her jeans and panties up before seating her on his lap. “That’s not what I want from you.”
She squirmed, her bottom obviously too sore to be comfortable on his hard thighs, but he held her firmly in place. Her hand slid to cover the alluring pulsing artery at her throat.
“No, I didn’t come for that, either.”
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“For your magic, my dear.”
A look of confusion shadowed her youthful face. “I don’t have any magic.”
“Ah, but you do, and it is quite powerful. I’ll need you to learn to use it, because there’s a curse that needs undoing.”
She shook her head. “I can’t help you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her expression was defiant, but he detected a look of panic beneath it.
“I need your power, witchling. You may not even realize you have it, but you do, and I’m not going to leave you alone until you’ve solved my dilemma.”
Her lips began to quiver, her chest moving rapidly with shallow breaths.
“Ah,” he said, softening his expression. “There are the tears.”
As if naming them, called them forth, her brave expression crumpled, and a choked sob erupted from her throat. He pulled her against his chest, tucking her head in against his neck and stroking her back like a kitten.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she sniffed when the sobs had slowed. “And I can’t believe you spanked me!”
He hid a smirk. He enjoyed the outrage of a modern women when they were turned over a man’s knee, and this one was full of fire to begin with. “Yes, well, I’m a bit old-fashioned when it comes to ladies. I come from a different era.”
She surprised him by laughing through her tears. “No, I mean, I tried to kill you with a wooden stake, and all you did was spank me.”
He grinned, admiring the buoyancy of her spirit. “Yes, well, you were afraid. I can’t really blame you for that, can I?”
She studied him with big brown eyes flecked with green, her copper-colored hair falling in her face. This one was special--even if he hadn’t seen the bubble of light she’d cast on the street, he could feel it now in her presence. He brought a hand to cup her face, stroking her lower lip with his thumb. “Lovely mortal. Candie, was it?”
She didn’t pull away from his touch, reading him with the same amount of attention he read her. “Candace. Yeah, I go by Candie.”
“So what era are you from?”
“I was turned in 1825.”
“Turned to vampire?”
He nodded.
A tiny shudder ran through her, but she continued to regard him boldly. She reached out and touched his side burns, sending a tiny shock of pleasure through him. “Hence you still like the pork chops?”
He caught the little hand touching his face and turned it over, his gaze inexorably drawn to the blue vein at her wrist. She noticed and snatched it back, holding it against her chest as she eyed him, warily.
“I’m not going to drain you and I’m not going to turn you, but I do require your full cooperation.” He put a finger under her chin. “Can you give that to me, Candie?”
The boldness in her expression had vanished and she swallowed. “Do I have any choice?” she asked hoarsely.
“No, my dear. You’ll live under my thumb until I have what I need from you.”
Spank or Treat 2013
Read all the Spank or Treat stories for the chance to win a GRAND PRIZE!
Kindle Fire or Nook HD (winner’s choice)!
(donated by Blushing Books)
$100 gift certificate to LazyDay
(donated by LazyDay Publishing)
$50 gift certificate to Blushing Books(donated by Blushing Books)
$20 gift certificate to Amazon!
(donated by Stormy Night Publications)
Custom-made Spank or Treat paddle*!
(donated by Blondie’s Place)
*Available to US and Canada participants only
Six-month membership to Discipline and Desire!
(donated by Discipline and Desire)
Book Bundle from Decadent Publishing
(Donated by Decadent Publishing)
Pre-publication consultation of a manuscript up to 15K(donated by Wizards in Publishing)
Plus, all Spank or Treaters are eligible for free books!
Holding Hannah, by Maren Smith
Available to the first 50 participants!
Love’s Reprise, by Cassandre Dayne, Lucy Felthouse, Olivia Starke, Kate Richards, and Anastasia Vitsky
Coming to Terms, by Cara Bristol, Jade Cary, Alta Hensley, Celeste Jones, Sue Lyndon, Renee Rose, and Anastasia VitskyAvailable to ALL participants who complete the Spank or Treat 2013 challenge!
Many authors will also be offering a contest on their individual blogs. Your comment on their blogs automatically enters you in both the main contest and the individual contests!
Here are the rules:
Visit each blog between the Friday, October 25th and Sunday, October 27th to read the posted stories and excerpts.
Leave a comment answering the story question on each blog. You will receive one entry per blog for the grand prize drawing. You will also be automatically entered in that author’s individual contest, if she has one.
If you have visited all of the blogs, visit Ana’s blog to sign up for FIVE bonus entries to the grand prize.
Deadline is midnight EDT (UTC -4) on October 27th!!
If you successfully completed the Spankee Doodle, Love Spanks, or last year’s Spank or Treat 2012 challenge, you may add “VIP” to your comments. You will earn THREE bonus entries toward the grand prize. (Yes, we will be doing this again. Yes, if you successfully complete the Spank or Treat challenge you can become a VIP for our next activity!)
Visit any of the participating blogs on Thursday, October 31st to find out the lucky winners. Will it be you?
So go have a ball! Read the stories from the participating authors:
Adaline Raine
Kathryn R. Blake
Alice Dark
Maren Smith
Anastasia Vitsky
Natasha Knight
Casey McKay
Renee Rose
Constance Masters
Tara Finnegan
Emily Tilton
PK Corey
Kate Richards
Answer this question for the chance to win your choice of any of my books:
What costume are you wearing for Halloween this year?
October 13, 2013
First Bite in Deathless Love
It's October, which means it's time to pull out the paranormals. I'm writing new one for Spank or Treat. It wants to be a whole book, it seems. Today's excerpt is from my first paranormal, Deathless Love.
The vampire Dom, the owner of the club where Kate sings, has just spanked her for drinking too much and falling off the stage during her set. It turned out to be a spanking with a happy ending...for both of them.
“Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!” Kate called out as she came, her head thrown back and her eyes rolling.
Her orgasm spurred his, and he came hard, groaning and gripping her well-toned thighs. Keeping their hips connected, he pulled her up to sit and tilted her head back to expose her vein.
“May I?” His voice was hoarse with desire.
“Yessss,” she said breathily.
He struck quickly and savored the taste of her—warm, delicious, erotic, with the tang of alcohol.
Deathless Love
Kate has always had a crush on Dominic, the handsome owner of the club where her band plays. When she finds out one night that he is a vampire, her interest only grows, and when he sniffs out her ne ed for spanking and brings her deepest fantasies to reality, she falls head over heels. The trouble is, Dom is allergic to relationships, or so it seems.
Dom loves knowing how to turn Kate on and taking her in hand comes naturally to him. But he believes he likes Kate much more than is good for either of them. In his mind, he can never be the man she needs, and the best thing he can do for her is to stay far away. But when a powerful vampire targets Dom, Kate gets tangled in the dangerous web and Dom finds himself prepared to sacrifice his own life to save hers. Can he get her back alive? If so, will they find a way to be together?
"A touching, gripping, erotic love story that makes vampires real and spanking hot! 5 stars." - Cara Bristol, author of False PretensesDeathless Love
The vampire Dom, the owner of the club where Kate sings, has just spanked her for drinking too much and falling off the stage during her set. It turned out to be a spanking with a happy ending...for both of them.
“Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!” Kate called out as she came, her head thrown back and her eyes rolling.
Her orgasm spurred his, and he came hard, groaning and gripping her well-toned thighs. Keeping their hips connected, he pulled her up to sit and tilted her head back to expose her vein.
“May I?” His voice was hoarse with desire.
“Yessss,” she said breathily.
He struck quickly and savored the taste of her—warm, delicious, erotic, with the tang of alcohol.
Deathless Love
Kate has always had a crush on Dominic, the handsome owner of the club where her band plays. When she finds out one night that he is a vampire, her interest only grows, and when he sniffs out her ne ed for spanking and brings her deepest fantasies to reality, she falls head over heels. The trouble is, Dom is allergic to relationships, or so it seems.
Dom loves knowing how to turn Kate on and taking her in hand comes naturally to him. But he believes he likes Kate much more than is good for either of them. In his mind, he can never be the man she needs, and the best thing he can do for her is to stay far away. But when a powerful vampire targets Dom, Kate gets tangled in the dangerous web and Dom finds himself prepared to sacrifice his own life to save hers. Can he get her back alive? If so, will they find a way to be together?
"A touching, gripping, erotic love story that makes vampires real and spanking hot! 5 stars." - Cara Bristol, author of False PretensesDeathless Love
September 20, 2013
The Reddington Scandal - new release!
When Phoebe’s brother-in-law catches the notorious rake Lord Fenton in his home late at night, half-dressed and obviously attempting escape, he flies into a rage, threatening to kill both his wife and Lord Fenton. In a desperate measure to avert bloodshed, Phoebe claims she is Lord Fenton’s lover, thereby forcing him to take her as his wife to avoid a scandal.
Knowing full well a philanderer like Teddy Fenton could never remain faithful, Phoebe insists upon separate bedrooms, resolving to resist his charm rather than fall in love and face the pain of his inevitable infidelity. Her handsome husband respects her request for a marriage in name only, but his marital dominance manifests itself in other ways. She soon learns that while he will not force her to his bed, Teddy is more than willing to take her over his knee and spank her bare bottom when her behavior warrants it.
Doubting his ability to stay faithful and not wishing to replicate his parents’ miserable existence, Teddy had never intended to take a wife, until he was forced to marry the lovely Phoebe Fletcher and everything changed. Suddenly other women hold no allure for him, and he wants nothing more than to win the affection of his new bride. But just when it seems he might succeed, secrets from her past threaten to destroy their chance at happiness. Can this couple come to love one another as befits a man and wife, or will their marriage end in scandal after all?
Publisher’s Note: The Reddington Scandal is an erotic romance novel that includes both consensual and non-consensual spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Knowing full well a philanderer like Teddy Fenton could never remain faithful, Phoebe insists upon separate bedrooms, resolving to resist his charm rather than fall in love and face the pain of his inevitable infidelity. Her handsome husband respects her request for a marriage in name only, but his marital dominance manifests itself in other ways. She soon learns that while he will not force her to his bed, Teddy is more than willing to take her over his knee and spank her bare bottom when her behavior warrants it.
Doubting his ability to stay faithful and not wishing to replicate his parents’ miserable existence, Teddy had never intended to take a wife, until he was forced to marry the lovely Phoebe Fletcher and everything changed. Suddenly other women hold no allure for him, and he wants nothing more than to win the affection of his new bride. But just when it seems he might succeed, secrets from her past threaten to destroy their chance at happiness. Can this couple come to love one another as befits a man and wife, or will their marriage end in scandal after all?
Publisher’s Note: The Reddington Scandal is an erotic romance novel that includes both consensual and non-consensual spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
