Rollin Hand's Blog, page 4

Winter Spanks Blog Hop

Brought to you by Spanking Romance Reviews and The Saturday Spankings Blog!

Thank you for joining us for Winter Spanks! Let’s warm up with some hot bottoms and cool prizes! Read on for a chance to win:Kindle or Nook (Blushing Books)Your Choice of a Free Book Cover for Your Next Book, an Ad for an Upcoming Project, or a Custom Facebook Header or Blog Graphic (Lazy Day Publishing)Three Month Subscription to Discipline & Desire (Discipline & Desire)$20 Gift Certificate to Amazon (Stormy Night Publications)Hand Crafted Paddle (Blondie’s Place)Spanking Video DVDs (Shadowlane)A “Get it All” Bundle (Variant Publishing) – Includes How to Get the Spanking You Want – The Complete Guide to Asking for It, Getting It, & Making It Better,  How to Give a Spanking – Advice from the Receiving End, What He Wants – A Man’s Seven Secret Spanking Desires, & The Little Book of Spanking Stories$25 Gift Certificate to Blushing Books (Patricia Green)Learning Domestic Discipline eBook Package (LearningDD)$25 Gift Certificate to Blushing Books (Patty Devlin)$10 Gift Certificate to Amazon (PK Corey)$25 Gift Certificate to Cane-iac (Cane-iac)$5 Amazon Gift Card and two books (Leigh Smith) Custom Social Media package including twitter & FB cover designs from graphic designer (The Cover Artisan)Print Copies of The British Billionaire Bachelor - Acts One & Two (Maggie Carpenter)
Welcome to WINTER SPANKS. I’m happy to be part of this blog hop sponsored by all of the wonderful folks above. You can win some great prizes. To enter all you have to do is read the story below and leave a comment answering the question. That’s it. Your comment on this blog and on any other blog in the blog hop will be counted and entered in the running for the prizes.
And oh, yeah. I’m giving away a prize too---A free copy of Pendragon’s Lash in the format of your choice, mobi, epub or pdf. This is a $4.95 value. Please leave an email address. This is the only way I can send you my prize.
The story today is a bit of Winter warmth called SUN VALLEY SERENADE. There will be a question to prompt your comment at the end of the story.

                                    SUN VALLEY SERENADE--an excerpt
[The story so far--Matt Fortier, a well to do attorney has rented a large cabin at Sun Valley for the holidays, but his quiet down time is interrupted when a family of four pulls up and announces that they too have rented the cabin. It is a case of double booking. Matt invites them to stay and share, particularly in view of the womanly charms of the mom, one Bonnie Carrington. An incident involving a snowball fight gets the kids in trouble and in a surprise move prompts Allison, Bonnie's sister to request a spanking from Matt for being the instigator. Later Matt and Bonnie go skiing alone and Matt recounts the incident, which leads Bonnie to propose this...]
                                       



She seemed fascinated by the spanking incident. “Did you really take her sweat pants down?” she asked while we cuddled on the lift. I had to explain that Allison had been playing me and that she had really felt nothing through those thick pants. “That all changed when the pants came down.” She asked me if her behind was really red and I said oh, yeah. Bonnie’s reaction was, “Well. I had better watch my step around you.”

We talked about our histories while riding the chair between runs. Later, she reflected, “I feel bad now about the kids. They tried to tell me Allison said it was ok and I refused to listen. Looks like I may have something to atone for myself,” she added ruefully. “Maybe I should be the one handing you the ping pong paddle.” I caught the blush as she said it and her eyes were kind of shining.

I thought that an interesting comment but had to let it go. We were coming off the lift at the top. Then she suggested a race. “What do we race for?” I asked, giving her my best raffish grin. I was thinking ---a kiss.

Bonnie grinned mischievously. “Let’s make it really interesting. Let’s see---you paddled my sister…I paddled the kids, so as the only ‘unpaddled’ pair left…“ Bonnie gave me her best wicked grin. “Loser gets swats,” she yelled and shoved off down the Warm Springs face. The Warm Springs run is long, more than a mile to the bottom. Bonnie had a head start. She had the lead until we hit the area where it broadens out at Lower Picaboo; then I was able to zip by. She caught up though, and was about to surge ahead when she took a big turn that let me slip by her and glide into the base at Warm Springs first. 

Inside we got some hot drinks and found a table. “You had it won,” I said. “What happened?”

“Oh, I caught an edge,” she said dismissively. It hadn’t looked that way to me. “And, I’m ready to pay up. After all, I did say ‘loser gets swats’.”

I grinned. “I’ll take a kiss and making out by the fire.”

 With a determined look and a half grin, she shook her head. “Nope. We Carringtons always pay our just debts. But I’ll let you know on the other…after,” she said with a sly smile.

“Ok,” I said, “But the condemned always gets a last meal. I’ll take you out tonight. Just us. Then we can discuss the execution.” I thought I saw a little shiver of excitement at that.

“I am your prisoner. How can I refuse?”

I took her to the Ram at Sun Valley. Afterwards we went dancing again. She practically melted in my arms, pressing her body into mine. All this talk of swats and prisoners had fueled my imagination like crazy, not to mention the residual effect of the previous interlude with her sister. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that spanking little Allison had started my fire, and now just holding Bonnie was giving me a terrific hard on. I got that kiss and cuddle anyway as we almost closed down the joint, we stayed so long. But the payoff had to wait, we agreed. After such a full day we were exhausted.

There was a subtle tension between us the next morning--- an undercurrent of excitement masked by the breakfast routine. Allison and the kids were booked in a package of ski lessons at Dollar. That left Bonnie and me alone.
We dawdled over coffee while Allison and the kids suited up. “Aren’t you going skiing?” asked Allison.

 Bonnie just smiled at her sister. “A little later, maybe. We have something to discuss first.”

Allison shot her big sister a smarmy grin. “I see,” she said. “Well, we’re off.” Allison, luckily, had met someone on the mountain the previous day and was anxious to get back.


We were now alone.  “So,” said Bonnie, giving me an expectant look.

“Ah, so…” I replied, a bit nervously. Where were we going from here?

“It seems I lost the race,” she ventured.

“Yeah, you did lose the race. Why, I don’t know---you had it won.”

“Yes, and I am ready to pay up.” She stood up, now very businesslike. She gave me a peck on the cheek. “Are you ready to give me my forfeit, then? Swats?” She asked with a sly smile.

I reached for her and said, “Let’s skip the damn forfeit.”

But Bonnie held me off, “Oh no. I don’t welch on a bet. You wait here.”

She bolted up stairs to her bedroom. I waited down in the great room. I stoked the fire to make the room toasty warm. I shook out the bearskin rug. A few minutes later I heard footsteps and looked up. Coming down the stairs was a true vision. Bonnie had changed into a sheer negligee. I could see the hardened tips of her nipples poking through the silky green top that stopped just below her hips. The shapely hips were barely contained by the matching panties.

She came up to me and stood there, her hands held behind her back, her head lowered. “Your prisoner awaits your command, good sir. I am ready to pay my forfeit.” She was playing at some game in her head and clearly it excited her. She had set this whole thing up. I knew I could not disappoint her, despite the fact that what I wanted to do was rip that negligee off and take her right there.

I decided to sit down on the couch. It faced the fireplace which crackled with the fire I’d stoked. “All right, Miss Bonnie. It’s swats for you, but first I think you need a good warming. Come right over here.” She came around to my side meekly. “Over my knee, miss.”

Bonnie gasped as I took her by the waist and laid her across my lap face down. The little top rode up. She was bare from her back to her ankles save for the wispy panties that did practically nothing to cover her luscious bottom. And what a bottom it was. Full round cheeks perched high on her hips, set off by gently tapering thighs. Her skin was milky white with a few freckles. She moaned excitedly as I rested my hand on the satiny behind, rubbing in circles. I kneaded and prodded her cheeks which prompted some sensuous writhing. Then after giving her a few pats, I raised my hand to deliver the first spank.

Splat! I smacked her right cheek. Splat! an identical smack to the left. Smack! A full handed swat spanning both cheeks at the divide. She jerked. “Oh,” she exclaimed breathlessly, as if surprised by the feel of my hand impacting her bottom.

I set about to spank her with moderate force smacks delivered in a pattern of right, left and center at regular rhythmic intervals. She writhed, emitting little “oh, oh” sounds. I knew I wasn’t hurting her, because she turned her head to look at me and her eyes were glazed over with lust. After several minutes of this I stopped. She looked over her shoulder quizzically.

“You know, I think that the pants should come down,” I said.

Bonnie gasped, “You wouldn’t!”

Of course I would, and I knew Bonnie’s protestation was all for show. I slipped her panties to her knees revealing fully her perfectly formed bottom cheeks, now quivering slightly as I resumed patting. “Are you ready miss, to pay your proper forfeit?” I said with mock seriousness.

“Oh, you brute,” she said. “Let me go.” She was going to play Nell to my Snidely Whiplash. I decided though, that I was going to spank a bit more intensely. I did know a thing or two, and one of them was that if you set out to give a lady a spanking, you damn well better make a good job of it.

So for the next several minutes I applied a volley of sonorous smacks to Bonnie’s lush bottom cheeks. The cabin resounded with the crisp smacks of my palm meeting Bonnie’s gorgeous bottom. Her flesh rippled as my palm landed, and she writhed across my lap making little gasping noises. Clearly these spanks stung a bit more, but she wasn’t begging off. Her bottom had been pink from my prior ministrations, now it was turning red. She started to hump up and down and I could see moisture glistening on the folds of her vulva. She flutter kicked and even tried to put her hand back to protect her bottom. I grabbed it. “Ah, ah, ah,” I cautioned. “Madame must take her punishment.”

“Oh, please. Haven’t I had enough?” she pleaded. I thought about it and stopped, rubbing her bottom. She positively purred.

“Way I see it, now comes the forfeit,” I said.

“What?” yelped a nervous Bonnie.

“As I understand it, ‘swats’ is twenty good hard ones,” I said patting her pretty red behind, “with this”. And I picked up the paddle so she could see it. She just looked back at me with wide eyes. “Ooooh,” she gulped. Then she looked straight ahead and gripped a pillow. “Ok, do your worst.”

I know a challenge when I hear it. I hefted the paddle.

Smack! The spank rang out. “Yeow!” she yelped.
Smack! Smack! Two more. “Ow! Ow!” Her luscious fanny jiggled lasciviously.

“Count,” I commanded.

Smack! “Four, ow, that’s four!”

Then I set about to paddle her behind in earnest. These were firm, but not real hard, smacks applied right across her sit spots. I took several seconds between each one, and from her reactions they were nonetheless, stingers. But the whole scene was also terribly arousing for her. As she wriggled, she desperately rubbed her mons against the roughness of my jeans. The juices between her legs were flowing. And, it seemed at times like she was raising her hips, timing it so that she lifted her bottom to meet the descending paddle. Before I finished her “just forfeit” she had stimulated herself to the point that her body was quivering uncontrollably as the last smacks landed.

When she had counted out twenty I stopped. She slumped lifelessly across my lap. I stroked her body and gently rubbed her bottom. “You don’t know how much I’ve needed that,” she sighed. “Even if my ass is on fire, you brute,” she admonished, reaching behind her and rubbing.

After a moment she lifted herself and slid between my legs kneeling.
Deftly she unzipped my fly and pulled out what was a painfully hard erection. She bent her head engulfing me into her mouth. For the next several minutes I could only groan as she swirled her tongue around the head and licked up and down my shaft. I had to make her stop. I lifted her up and we made our way to the lush rug in front of the fireplace where I tore off my clothes. Laying her on her back I gripped her hips, raising them in readiness. Her slit was slick with desire and I slid right in, up to the hilt. She groaned with pleasure. We thrust against each other, the delicious friction building as I slid in and out. I came in a frenzy of spasms, jerking and thrashing. She followed a second later.

After a breather we did it again, this time more slowly. I put her on hands and knees and slowly thrust into her from behind, my stomach gently slapping against those lush bottom cheeks that I had spanked so thoroughly.
We spent most of the day like that, making love in every position we could think of.

******************************************************

As I eventually guessed, Bonnie’s first husband, Rich, had spanked her. It had been for both pleasure and discipline, she said. She hadn’t had that with any other man since. So when the spanking incident with Allison had occurred, it had reignited some flames that had been smoldering. In fact Allison had confided in her, giving her all the details. Bonnie had looked at me in a different light after that, as perhaps someone who would understand her needs. Well I did.

I eventually bought the house and moved to Idaho to live there full time. I see Bonnie as often as I can. It’s a long distance romance for now but, as I told her, these days you can run a business from anywhere.

 So I’d better head out now. The fire is stoked, the bearskin rug is fluffed up and the ping pong paddle is on the coffee table. Bonnie lands in Hailey in an hour, and she’s bringing her naughty list.

I’m bringing a ring in a little black box. Wish me luck.








 Now for the question---do you think Bonnie cheated just a bit?

RULES: Follow the links to read the blogs–comment on the blog to prove you were there (or answer the participant’s specific question, if they have one). COPY AND PASTE COMMENTS WILL BE DISQUALIFIED! Each comment earns you one entry for the grand prize. You must provide your email address for your entry to count. Individual pages may also have their own form of entry (Rafflecopter, etc) for additional chances to win prizes. Enjoy all the free stories, posts, and fun!  

1. Spanking Romance Reviews2. Saturday Spankings 3.Corinne Alexander 4. Katherine Deane5. Natasha Knight6. Patricia Green Books 7. Casey McKay8. Kathryn R. Blake9. Renee Rose10. Lily Harlem11. Cara Bristol12. Adaline Raine13. Tara Finnegan Romance14. Celeste Jones15. Leigh Smith (aka Sunny Girl)16. Tara Crescent (BDSM Romance)17. Sue Lyndon18. Anastasia Vitsky (Governing Ana)19. Normandie Alleman20. Maddie Taylor21. Liv Honeywell22. Joelle Casteel- author of bdsm erotica23. Sadey Quinn24. Holla Dean spankin' good romance stories25.Paige Tyler26. Thianna D27. Emily Tilton28. PK Corey29. Constance Masters30. Lucy Felthouse31. Paloma Beck32. Kristin Elyon33. Patty Devlin Author34. Abigail Armani Erotic Romance Author35. Johnna Maquire36. A Voice in the Corner37. Michelle Graham, Erotic Romance38. Kates Cravings - Batteries Not Included39. Korey Mae Johnson40. Sheri "WTF" Savill41. Disciplinary Tales42. Elegant Erotica - Maggie Carpenter43. Trent Evans Letters44. Jaye Peaches45.Dinah McLeod 46. Daizie Draper47. Draven St. James48. Jolynn Raymond's Dark Obsessions49. Shoshanna Evers50. Acknowledging Imperfection51. We Love Kink52. 1950s Wife53. Shelly Douglas54. The Cover Artisan55. Penelope Hasler



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New eBook---Tumalo Bend 1895 and Lady Jayne

Brand new release: Tumalo Bend 1895 and Lady Jayne.

I'm excited about this one. The book includes a pair of novelettes squarely in the spanking romance genre. We have a Western and a Medieval romance. The link to Amazon is HERE. The link to Barnes and Noble is HERE.

Here is the product description:

Tumalo Bend 1895 and Lady Jane are a pair of spanking romance novelettes, each over 12,000 words.
In Tumalo Bend 1895, Hank Carson has just received some distressing news. His daughters have been skipping school. As older students they have become bored with the routine and their last “hooky” incident has had them off canoodling with the local swains. Obviously a trip to the woodshed is called for.  After tending to the disagreeable disciplinary chore, Hank realizes that at their age what they really need is a tutor and governess. Enter Diana Fitzhugh, an English émigré with a desire to see the West. But she finds that as tutor to the Carson girls she has her hands full. On top of that she finds herself falling for the tough old rancher. But can a lady used to the comforts of civilization be happy living on a ranch? And what about Hank’s notions of appropriate domestic discipline? For in the rugged high desert. what goes for the girls applies equally, if not more, to a wife.

 In Lady Jayne the land of Thracia is under siege. Viking raiders have taken advantage of its weakness while its men are off to war. So in stark disobedience to her father’s orders, Lady Jayne and her cousin, Lady Celia, decide to act as scouts to discover the threat posed by the raiders. The threat is real enough as the ladies learn. They are ambushed, but a pair of knights intervenes, thwarting the attack on the two women. Who were these knights? A pair of brothers, Garth and Rance Devane, on their way to see Jayne’s father, Robert DeCorday, Baron of Thracia. The brothers have been sent by King Alfred to spy on the activities of the Vikings and report back. But in the meantime, it seems that they must deal with two headstrong ladies who are not only in need of constant rescue, but require appropriate chastisement as well. Wills clash and sparks fly as the Devane brothers set about to tame both the Viking horde and the Thracian ladies.

Writing the Spanking Scene---part 7

Today I’m going to talk about point of view in writing the scene. POV is a powerful tool in creating a word picture to illustrate the spanking scene in your story.  In a spanking scene there are 3 possible points of view that matter. These are the spanker, the spankee, and a witness. If writing in the third person the author can use all three. If the observer is omniscient, however, this could lead to some rather jarring “head hopping” that gets confusing. But there is a way around that.
In The Woodmont Three, a novelette of mine, I used the POV of an “interviewer” who recorded the first person accounts of the participants. This enabled the use of multiple first person accounts including spanker, spankee and witnesses as well as the interviewer as a third person speaker.
Natalie Redding:“Mrs Brooks said that the procedure would be that each girl would in turn, assume the position over the bench and receive 2 licks. Then she would get up and the next would take her place. On the next round it would be 3 licks; next round 3 licks again, and the final round, 2 licks. The she asked them to get into the order they wanted. Christy was first, Kim, second then Audrey. Mrs. Brooks said something like ‘let’s get started then’ and motioned for Christy to approach the bench.”


Christy:“My heart was in my throat as I stepped up to bend over to take the first spanks. I bent over and grabbed the handles in front of me. I realized that as I did, the pad in front made my rear end jut out and made my panties stretch out even more. I felt like Hoffman could see everything. It was so humiliating.”
Natalie Redding:“Dana Brooks looked like she knew what she was doing. She adjusted her stance for the right distance, pressed the paddle against Christy’s bottom and drew back her arm like she was going to serve a tennis shot. She whipped her arm down and there was a loud splat! Christy’s bottom flattened with the impact. A second later she sort of hissed, like she was sucking in air through her teeth. Mrs. Brooks paused a few seconds and the repeated with swat number two and Christy let out an ‘ohh…ahh’ sound. I could see two red bands even under the panties.”
Christy:“Those two first swats took my breath away. I’d never felt anything like it. It was a hot burning pain. I’m afraid I let out quite a yelp. I couldn’t help it, it hurt so bad.”
Christy got up furiously rubbing her bottom and Dana Brooks motioned to Kim. She took her place at the bench, bent over and arched her bottom upwards and waited. Mrs. Brooks gave her two taps then delivered the first stroke. Kim gasped and threw her head back, gritting her teeth in pain.
Kim:“When I got those first two swats I knew I’d never felt anything like this, not even when mom spanked me with that ping pong paddle. This was so much worse.”
Last was Audrey who was shorter than the rest of the girls. She bent over and stuck her behind out, really stretching the thin material of the panties across her cheeks. Dana Brooks wasted no time and lined up the paddle then delivered a first searing crack followed by number two a few seconds later.
Audrey:“I’d never been spanked before and those first two swats were like nothing I’d ever experienced. It was pure fire on my butt and I squealed. It was everything I could do to hang on.”
One at a time the girls stepped up, bent over, and took their licks. By all accounts they acquitted themselves bravely, but by the second round as each girl left the bench, their hands frantically attempted to rub the sting away before that girl had to present her bottom again for the next round. Eyes were starting to look a little red.
Natalie Redding:“I had to feel for these girls, really I did. I knew the paddle stung dreadfully, but it looked like Mrs. Brooks was being consistent. No swats were harder than others and all the girls were getting it equally, just an old-fashioned good hard licking was what it looked like. She just laid the swats on one after another, each one making a loud crack! That really reverberated in that room. For awhile it seemed all you heard was the crack of that paddle on tender girl behinds and tearful yelping. These girls were quite well developed back there, and were able to absorb a lot. Their not so little fannies would quiver when the paddle struck and they would squirm a bit but Mrs. Brooks would wait until they became still again before she gave out the next swat. Poor Audrey was so short that she was standing on tip toe and every time she took a swat her feet would fly up behind her. It seemed like for a long time all there was in that room was the splat of that paddle, the girl’s yelp, and Dana Brooks calling ‘next’.”
Dana Brooks:“I was trying to be firm but fair. When the paddle landed the girl’s bottom cheeks would flatten then spring back. The sound was a very loud crack! It was like a gunshot. I guess that’s what you get with a wooden paddle impacting flesh that is almost bare. Those thin panties really provided no protection. By the start of the third round I saw three girls with red faces and eyes tearing up, shifting from foot to foot and trying to rub some sting out, but no one was chickening out. When I called one, she gamely stepped up and assumed the position. Maybe I wanted to go a little easier on them at that point, but a deal is a deal. I had promised to deliver a good licking and I gave out the licks with the same force and kept to the same tempo which was about ten seconds between licks. Their bottoms were getting quite red at this point.”(From The Schoolgirl Collection.)
If it’s a first person story, the technique isn’t possible because the speaker can’t get inside the head of any other character to describe feelings. The first person speaker is either an actor or a witness. Here’s an excerpt from A Pirate’s Tale.
I had no idea of his intentions, but clearly he was angry. He scolded me as if I were a child and that was bad enough, but what came next was worse. He took my hand and pulled me to him as he sat on his bunk. I was pulled forward until I lay face down across his thighs. He lifted my skirts in back until my drawers were exposed to his gaze. Telling me he meant to teach me a lesson in obeying a captain's orders, he commenced to spanking my bottom with the flat of his hand. I was helpless to stop him, held as I was over his knees. His rough palm smacked my bottom over and over until it stung quite atrociously. I called him a cad and a brute. He asked me if I would now obey him and I said "never". Well that was a mistake, Cecily, because he said something about making this memorable. Before I knew it his hands were at the waistband of my drawers and he had whisked them to my knees baring my bottom! I shrieked at this new outrage but he ignored me and proceeded to apply his hand most forcefully to my bared buttocks, now on such shameful display. I cannot describe how awful it felt to be spanked like a child by this man. Not the least of it was that it truly hurt. Smack after smack was applied to my burning bottom---I thought he'd never stop. I shamelessly squealed and kicked my legs but he kept on. I vowed not to cry, but under the stinging onslaught visited upon my bottom, my best intentions failed and I cried and sobbed and eventually begged for mercy.He pulled me up and pushed me back on the bed. I was absolutely mortified because surely the crew had heard the whole thing, the smacking of his hand and my childish cries. Ohh, how I hate him!!(From The Romance of Spanking, Vol. 2)
Of course the first person speaker can be the spanker as well, as this excerpt from the novel Atonement illustrates:Wendy was waiting for me back at the camp. Will and Jim had left to return Elaine to her father. With the Lynne incident and my encounter with "Bob", not to mention the disappearance of "Cathy Riggs" and Elaine from the commune, I felt it was time to go. As soon as the initiation ceremony was finished, the cult leaders would tumble to the fact that something was going on. They might even start searching the woods. So we packed up what was left and got out.
It was a hard trip down the mountain in the dark loaded with gear, but we got to the van and took off. I suggested we go North toward Winchester. I wanted to get out of Pendleton County as soon as possible. There was I was sure, an unholy alliance between the church and the sheriff's office there.
Exhaustion set in near the Virginia border. I figured we were far enough away that they wouldn't find us, so Wendy and I crashed at a motel. When we awoke it was nearly dark again. We'd slept all day. We were both starved, so we went out to eat. We found a respectable looking diner and ordered some food. Then Wendy, who'd been quiet, finally piped up.
"You know, I've never seen anything like what we just saw the last few days. I'm ashamed to admit it, but watching it was a turn on for me."
I told her she wasn't alone, and that I'd known a few women who found spankings and related activity quite arousing.
"And just how well did you know these women?" she said, arching her brows.
I had previously told her about Jane, so I had to admit that with some of them it had "gotten Biblical".
"So you're quite experienced in this area," she mused, toying with her food.
"I've been around a little," I admitted.
"Well I must say that it sounded like more than 'a little' with what's-her-name yesterday when you played father confessor."
Uh-oh, I had left the mic on. She must have heard the whole thing. "I uh, had to play along, you know. That's the first rule--look and act like you belong." I knew how this spy business worked.
"Mmmm. Of course. That's it. You had to play along," she said smugly. Then she switched gears. Eyeing me curiously she said, "Let's go back to our room. I want to see something."
I shrugged, "Ok, let's go," wondering what she had in mind. But I had a pretty good idea. We had been in close quarters the last few days and were both aware that some chemistry had developed between us. The light banter had turned to flirting and it was starting to look like the flirting was turning to...yeah.
When we got back to the room, she closed the door and turned on the TV. Then she faced me. "So what does it feel like?" she asked in a husky voice. She was rubbing her hands up and down her pants legs. Watching all the flagellatory activity on the monitors would have made Saint Therese's panties moist. Even if you're not into it, there is something atavistically sexual about a bare bottom whipping.
"What does what feel like?" I said.
"You know," she whispered with a coy smile. "A spanking. Like you gave to that girl Lynne?"
Now it was my turn to grin. "Do you want to find out?"
"Maybe. I don't know. It looked sexy. Nobody ever spanked me when I was a kid."
"Well," I said, sitting on the bed, "only one way to find out. Come over here."
She was breathing heavily, excited. "Not too hard, ok? I just want to see what it's like." I crooked my finger and patted my thighs. She gingerly laid over my lap, her jeans-clad bottom jutting up. I patted her bottom. "Before we get started, don't you have anything to atone for?" I said in my mock stentorian voice.
She giggled, "I did show Billy Smithson my panties for a quarter in third grade."
"Shocking!" I said, and gave her delightful rear a resounding smack! "Imagine--raising your dress and showing off your panties to a boy. This correction is long overdue." Smack! Another solid swat.
"Oooh," she said.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! I gave her four swats quickly on alternating cheeks.
"Hmmm...that actually feels nice."
I said nothing but proceeded to smack her bottom with measured, deliberate smacks, not too fast, stopping frequently to rub it in. She practically purred at this treatment at first, then the sting started to build up.
"Ohh...ow...mmm...ahh," she uttered, moving her hips around on my lap. I stopped after about fourty cracks. My hand was getting the worst of it. Time to up the ante.
"Ok, stand up," I commanded.
"Are we done?" She sounded disappointed.
"Not by a long shot. Your pants are coming down. I'm wearing my hand out on the seat of these jeans."
"Take down my pants?" she asked breathlessly.
"Down your knees, Wendy. You want to know what a spanking is like--this is the way to find out."
"But you'll see my bare hiney," she protested.
"Yeah. Just like Billy Smithson," I shot back. I could see that she was playing, excited by the prospect.
She thought for a moment, then slowly peeled down her jeans. Then she took them off completely and tossed them over on the bed. She looked positively delicious standing there in a tank top that ended above her navel and sheer french cut panties along with an especially youthful touch, white knee socks.
"Back over again, Wendy," I said with a grin. She laid over my left thigh, her upper body on the bed. I put my right leg over the backs of her calves and pushed down on the small of her back making her bottom arch up over my left thigh. Her curvy fanny was perfectly positioned for a good spanking. The cheeks were fully exposed as her panties had pulled up into the deep cleft separating the twin moons leaving her all but bare. "Ok, Wendy, ready? Here we go--now this is a spanking."
I rubbed my palm in wide circles on her bottom feeling the quivery flesh. Then smack! Smack! Crack! I brought my hand down in a series medium hard smacks right on the cheeky crowns of her bottom globes. Her fanny rippled delightfully as I spanked her with crisp cracks of my palm that had her squirming a bit and making little "ooh" and "ahhh" sounds. This went on for 100 smacks or so. Then I stopped and rubbed her ass sensuously, kneading the pinkened mounds. She was breathing heavily and shivered as my fingers slid gently along the gusset of her panties between her legs. "Oh, yessss," she hissed. I slid a finger through the elastic of a leg band into the moist warmth of her pussy.
"Oh, Rollin, yes...mmmm," she moaned.
"Lift up," I said. She lifted up and I yanked her panties down to her knees. "Are you prepared for atonement, my child?" I asked mockingly.
"Oh, yes Father Rollin, punish me as I deserve." We both giggled.
"Ok," I said plainly. Then I gave her a spanking she'd remember. I clamped my leg hard over hers and proceeded to baste her little backside good and proper. She bucked and squealed but did not try to escape as the smacks rained down turning her bottom a fiery red. I tanned her backside for three or four minutes without respite.
"Oh, ow, ow,ow...this hurts...oh, God, it stings. Wow, ahhh...ahh." She carried on as I smacked her jiggling ass relentlessly. I figured she'd asked for the authentic experience, so I was going to give it to her. She bucked up and down and wriggled her fanny.
She'd had enough. I slowed the pace down, this time interspersing the smacks with a lot of rubbing. Her moans changed to whimpers of arousal.
"Nhhh...oh...yessss." She writhed in pleasure as I manipulated her. When I felt her response to be that of approaching climax I started smacking her bottom again. Crisp slow open-handed cracks. I punctuated these with a mock lecture.
"Will you act like a lady now?" Smack! "Will you show your panties to boys?" Smack! Crack!
"Oh...oh...nhhh," she responded. When I sensed she'd reached her limit of tolerance, I stopped and lifted her to her feet. As she stood her in front of me, I continued to rub her pussy while her hands found her flaming ass cheeks and began to rub. I sat back to enjoy the sight of little miss Wendy trying to ease the sting in her delectable derriere.
She stopped rubbing and gave me a look that was nothing but lust. Then, she jumped on me, knocking me back on the bed. Grabbing the back of my neck she pulled my mouth to hers and kissed me passionately. Before I could even react she was at me like a wild woman. She yanked my clothes off and when had me naked and on my back, she straddled me, impaling herself on my upright and very stiff cock. Then she rode me, blissfully moaning as she pinched her own nipples through the fabric of her tank top. Not satisfied she tore it off, revealing very nicely shaped breasts. She was bucking up and down and arching forward, trying to scrape her clitoris against my shaft. The furious fucking couldn't last. She stiffened in climax and came, jerking around like a woman possessed.
The next time we did it a lot slower. Me on top, she kneeling with me taking her from behind, like spoons--we tried a bunch of 'em. It was two hours before we were back on the road. As Wendy slept I had a chance to think of my next move.
We see the whole thing through the spanker's eyes here and get some idea of his attitudes and feelings, as well as a visual picture from *ahem* above the action. So that’s first person POV and its variants. Next time, more on third person accounts of the spanking scene.

Writing the spanking scene---part 6, P.N. Dedeaux

Before I start today, I'd like to give a big thank you to Devlin O'Neill and his blog www.devlinoneill.com for his super nice review of THE PURITAN MUSEUM. Devlin, in case you've been on Mars for the last 10 years or so, is one of the premier spanking fiction writers in the world.

Now on to business.

This time we’ll take a look at Mr. PN Dedeaux. Mr. Dedeaux by all accounts is no longer with us, but he wrote some of the most memorable, and some say the most severe, flagellation novels ever. In fact he glorifies flagellation, practically wallowing in it. As you might expect he writes a spanking scene with great focus and attention to detail. This particular novel is called “In the Territory” and describes the introduction of a young woman named Joanna to the unique society in which her sister lives. It is a male authoritarian society in which the women are routinly punished for each and every fault imaginable. Dedeaux’s love is the cane, although there is a birching scene and I know that in one version of this novel there was a paddling with a sorority paddle. There are no erotic hand spankings in a Dedeaux novel. Oh no. It’s full on six or eight or twelve strokes with a whippy cane that leave big red welts, weals and ridges, and if you mess up you’ll get it again tomorrow. The conceit here is that such a terrifying atmosphere leads to great sex, and the women of the Territory accept it as long as it keeps erections stiff and husbands randy.
In this first passage Joanna overhears her sister being summoned by her husband for punishment. We don’t actually see it happen, but we see what it could be through Joanna’s imagination. It’s a very effective POV technique.



     “Mummy's going to get...it,” said the girl softly, looking very directly at Joanna.      She shut the book. Awkwardly, in a hushed voice, she asked, “By 'it' you mean...?”    
 “A thrashing with the cane.”       “How...can you be so sure?”       “I know. Listen.”       The silence seemed to last forever. Suddenly it was broken by the sound of brusquely drawn curtains. But this whirring of air, this beating of big wings, was completed by the same snapping of the dry twig she had heard upstairs her third day, and it struck into her soul now as it had then.       “One,” said the girl staring at her steadily.      Thwhhlcck!       “Two.”      Joanna groaned and sat back, closing her eyes. She heard what she knew she heard—bare female flesh cut into four, five, six times by hard whippy wood. There was a lava inside her. She felt herself tottering. After a long pause there were two more sharp strokes, a stifled cry, a man's placid growl. She realized that in some manner she seemed to be practically sitting on Pamela's right hand which had insinuated itself under her, under her skirt hiked against crushing...she stood up hotly.       Alec Reddick came along, whistling. “All ready? Let's go.”       He led the way out to the car. At the turn by the stairs Joanna nearly bumped into Cynthia and gasped. It was one thing to see a teenager like Pam in the extremities of corporal correction; it was another to see a grown woman, her hands clasped under her skirt behind, gasping with twisted face, half-doubled.       “Bad luck, Mumsie!” said the girl.   

There are of course numerous incidents involving the citizens of the Territory and the tension mounts as to when Joanna is going to get it. Finally, she actually volunteers, confessing to a fault that got her sister in trouble.   

     “You are about to be beaten for being late. Do you have anything to say?”       “No, sir.”'       “Do you wish to appeal?”       “No.”       She gave her ritual answers fatally, from her depths.  The sense of ceremony was exact as he bent his head and again inscribed her punishment in his book.       “Very well. You will receive six strokes with the cane. Go through and I'll deal with you in a minute.”       As if some burden had been lifted from her, in a total surrender of her will, she walked to the far end of the room, where there was a door, which she opened, closing it behind her. It gave onto a large, bare expanse of polished wood, resembling a small gymnasium—in fact, Alec used it as a keep-fit room There were bars, a leather horse, stools and weights, but chiefly her eyes were drawn to the impedimenta hanging on the walls, the straps, well oiled and used-looking, and the rack of canes, one above the other. Chiefly, also, her eyes were held to the short, hip-high structure riveted to the flooring by one wall. That'll keep you nice and tight, she told herself grimly. She was already quivering all over, and perspiring.      It was very simple really, resembling some iron towel rack or suchlike. Cynthia had explained it perfectly. The top bar, adjustable, was about on the level of your, well, your lap and you duly bent over it; not before, however, you had stepped between the two ankle-level bars at the bottom. One of these could be opened and closed like a gate and made it impossible to kick back, or forward for that matter! So standing, two further simple bars pressed horizontally at the front of the legs, one at the shins beneath the knees, one at the thighs above them. The culprit's legs were braced ineluctably back, tight. So long as she was holding onto the lower bar in front with her hands she could not reasonably move her parted, tightened ass.       “Shoes off,” said a voice. Alec had come in. She shucked them, seeing with a sudden flutter that he had donned tennis sneaks and rolled his right sleeve up high. He went to a wall, selected his instrument, swished it through the air a couple of times, and came forward thoughtfully.      Just like a doctor, she told herself, feeling with sudden panic a desire to pee. She thought of the Gladiator's story, what would happen if she...the sensation increased dreadfully....      “Stand there,” he said, pointing with the cane-tip, “and take down your clothes. Right down, if you please. Now bend over and grip the lower bar.”     He did not seem surprised that she knew how to do so at once, but he spent some time positioning her to his satisfaction.   “Get a really good hold of it. I think you know it's two extra every time you leave go of the bar.”      “Yes, sir. Thank you.”       “Three if you rise before Permission.”      His thumb prodded her inspectively. Bent as she was, she felt all buttock. The bars did not merely brace back her knees, they seemed to bend her legs in a bow so that all her weight fell forward, on her hands in front. Her cunt pouched back at the division of her legs and hips, but Cynthia said the cane never hit in there, at least not hard. The hips were always sufficiently curved enough to...she stared miserably at the puerile wrinkles in her panties at her ankles. Would Alec be able to see the sodden patch in their center?       “Head down.”      Ah yes, to draw the flesh up fully at her seat.      The cold cane touched her, measuring.       “This is Canadian acajou. Whippy, but not too.”      After tucking her sweater needlessly high, he turned and went from her—perhaps to get some other frightful thing, she thought, when with a thudding rush he bounded athletically at her and into her. The limb stirred the air with a breathless whirr, a strangely peevish sound, and the cane thrashed full across her seat with its now characteristic rap. Her head came back at the shock, but she thought, I can take it. Then the true wave flamed up her skin. She contrived a grunting pant.      Whrrrr-upp!      The second whipped into her after a pause. It was agony. The tip seemed to burrow and she felt herself give an instinctive buttocky wriggle to throw it off. Two.      Hold on, she told herself desperately, hold on.      She did so until the fourth had splatted powerfully, with a ringing echo, round her hips. She tried to stamp, emitted a short, shaming fart. Alec stood behind her calmly. It was like being struck by the sun.       “Aiieeee!”       “Relax,” he said. “It'll hurt you less that way. You're trying to fight it.”       “I'm s-sorry....I've never been caned like this...before.”       “Always co-operate with the cane.” His fingertips touched her scorching weals. “I'm going to give you these last two hard. Concentrate on your posture, please.”      There was that savage swaying in the air again and a fiery razor sliced across her skin—Phhhrr-ruppp!       “Ow!” she cried.      The last followed crisply on top of it.       “Don't get up until I tell you.”      It was the hardest thing Joanna had ever done. The pain became an unspeakable flame, drenching her impossibly. She hung over, mouth open, drooling.      “Ooooh... auuuuu... aaaaah!”       “All right.”      She arched erect, hissing, clutching her buttocks and, feet still fettered in the system of bars, sat down heavily on the floor behind her, on her hands. She looked up at him miserably, beaten, fearful, her cunt lips shimmering as if in the heat waves from her tortured flesh. She saw him reflectively stroke the ascending chord at the center of his being and then he ordered, “Get up and put your clothes on. Let that be a lesson to you.”    
Yeouch! Dedeaux doesn’t fool around. This is punishment, hard and brutal. And that’s not all. There is figging, anal sex, the works. The way he writes is blow-by-blow, almost. With a defined caning that consists of a set number of strokes, a writer can do this without being boring or repetitious. Why? Because a good writer can turn each stroke into an event--the thoughts of the spankee, what she hears and feels, her emotional state. One or more of these can be described with every stroke. Notice here the POV focus is on Joanna---what she thinks and feels. Alec, we don’t know. He’s just an implacable force. It’s very effective.
I’m generally not this severe because I’m more into loving correction, but each to his own taste and in his day Dedeaux had his ardent followers. He did not write much. There are maybe 4 or 5 other works, but they are all of equal intensity—hard, severe, and uncompromising.

New eBook Release---Have Paddle, Will Travel

Did you hear the one about the traveling salesman? Well, you will if you grab your copy of HAVE PADDLE, WILL TRAVEL. Just released on the Amazon Kindle platform, the link to Amazon is HERE.



When entrepreneur Colin Masters launches the Acme Paddle Company, he has no idea what he is getting into. Based upon the popularity of new and popular mainstream entertainment featuring spanking as both a disciplinary and erotic activity, the Acme Paddle Company is founded and sales explode through the roof. But Colin is a one man company, and that means that not only do marketing and production fall to him, but he must make personal sales calls, both to deliver and to demonstrate the products. And that is where the fun begins.
Welcome to the world of Colin Masters and his Acme Paddle Company. This volume is over 25,000 words and contains three separate multi-part stories, in all 8 chapters of erotic spanking action.In The Acme Paddle Company Colin makes a house call on a college sorority looking for a way to instill some much needed discipline in both the pledge class and the sisterhood. The sorority pledge mistress, Kirsten Chambers, has grounded a few pledges who will be subjects for a demonstration of Colin’s wares. But what about the lovely pledge mistress herself—especially when she notes that Colin has brought along a few samples from his erotic line?In The Return of Acme Paddle Colin receives an urgent request from Edith Fontaine, a wealthy widow who is at her wits end with her two granddaughters, Tanya and Brittney. Colin answers the call and finds himself pressed into service to demonstrate the punitive efficacy of hand crafted custom made spanking paddles, much to the dismay of the lovely granddaughters. The way the girls are taken in hand by the handsome Mr. Masters is not lost on Emma Pearson, the widow’s attractive young secretary, who harbors some secret spanking desires of her own.The Acme Paddle Company at School finds Colin Masters headed for the Hawthorne School for Girls, a remotely situated  academy for young ladies with few eligible men around. The teachers and staff are all delighted to see Colin, having heard about the company and its dashing owner. And all are keen to have him demonstrate his wares—so much it seems, that they don’t want him to leave. From the perky girls’ sports coach to the lush red-haired school nurse to the headmistress herself, everyone is fascinated by Colin Masters and his custom spanking paddles.

Becky's Last Chance by Constance Masters (Writing the spanking scene--part 5)

I was going to talk about point of view in spanking scenes and I'll lead this one off with a very good example by Constance Masters. This is from the eBook Becky's Last Chance which is about a love affair between a young spoiled brat and Ryan, a slightly older and more responsible guy who has always cared for Becky but now finds himself tasked by Becky's father with looking out for her when he is away.

The Amazon link is HERE


So in this one, the POV is nearly all Becky's. We see what she sees, we feel her emotions, and we share her thoughts. In the first part of the book it's clear she has the hots for Ryan and even fantasizes about receiving discipline at his hands.

Becky gasped when she realised they were at the park. The car stopped with a jolt and Ryan got out. She held her breath until her car door was flung open.
“Out, Becky.”
“Why?”
“Do as you’re told.” As she stood up beside him Ryan took her hand and pulled her over to a nearby picnic table.
 “Wait... what're you doing?” By the time the words were out of her mouth Becky knew exactly what he was doing. He lifted her short skirt and tucked it out of the way, then pulled the tiny panties down to her knees.  She tried to cover herself with her hands as she stood exposed in front of him, but he quickly pulled her over his knee.
“I’m teaching you the proper way to behave, young lady.”
 “No! Stop!” Ryan's hard hand landed in the centre of her wriggling bare bottom.   Becky panted silently as she got closer and closer to finding her release. The imagined feelings of Ryan’s hand slapping her upturned bottom became more real, and she could almost feel the denim of his jeans rubbing roughly against her naked flesh. Rhythmic spanks clapped against each bare cheek noisily as Becky yelped and pleaded for it to stop, all the while grinding herself against his leg. But Ryan just spanked harder and faster. He wasn't going to stop, not yet.   Her bottom pressed hard into the mattress as she worked her clit furiously.  She slid the nightgown over her head and set it at her side, and yanked her panties down and off.  Being naked in her bed with others in the room made her feel terribly naughty, but that only made the fantasy get better.   After a few more hard slaps the spanking stopped and Ryan pulled her up to stand in front of him. 

She started to pull her panties back up. “We aren’t done yet,” Ryan said firmly.  “You are going to learn to behave yourself, is that understood?”
 “Yes, but I...” she started to answer him.
“You will answer me properly when you are being scolded!” he commanded sharply. He spun her around and gave her another firm set of swats on her red and stinging bare bottom. “I’m going to try again.  You are going to learn to behave properly, is that understood?”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be a good girl,” she promised meekly. 

Submitting to him ---that was embarrassing, but oh sooo hot.

Here's another scene, later in the book when Becky gets the real thing.


“That's enough Becky,” he said.
 “Or what?” she asked standing up to leave.
“Or I might just be tempted to give you EXACTLY what you need.” Becky's face blushed red but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that she knew what he was talking about. Luckily he couldn't see the butterflies that were doing backflips in her belly.
“Oh and what would that be, to get rid of the black widow?” she asked smugly.
 “I said that's enough.”
 “I'll decide when it's enough!” she got up with the intention of going into the house.
“Where are you going? We're not finished here.”
“I'm going to ring my Dad and the home-wrecker and tell them exactly what I think of their marriage.”
“No, you're not,” Ryan said. “You need to calm down first before you say something that you'll regret.”
Becky poked out her tongue and tried to push past him. She was stopped in her tracks though when Ryan yanked her arm and toppled her over his knee. “Wait... stop...” Becky fought as hard as she could to get free but to no avail. One of Ryan's arms held her firmly in place as his large palm made sharp contact with the back of her frayed cut-offs.
 “Yeow!” she yelped. She didn't have time to process the pain before it was followed by another swat and then another. “Ow ow ow... Ryan stop!” she hissed. The only thing stopping her from kicking up a bigger fuss was that she didn't want any of the house staff to hear her cry. She would have died of embarrassment if anyone had seen her in such an undignified position.

Finally after a few more smacks Ryan released her and stood her in front of him. “Are you going to behave now? Leave your Dad in peace for a while?”



It's a fairly short description. Ms. Masters doesn't dwell on the mechanics of the actual spanking. She makes up for this by including multiple spanking scenes that emphasize the emotional side of the event as Ryan and Becky work through their conflict and their true feelings for each other begin to emerge. We don't know that much about Ryan except for what he says and does, which is all reported through the lens of Becky's perception. Here is one of the few glimpses we get of what Ryan is thinking.


Ryan smiled to himself. She was so cute trying to wind back her natural enthusiasm and make herself more grown up. It was so unnecessary. He wasn't that old himself. The fact that he seemed a little more mature than the average twenty three year old was down to circumstances. Losing his Dad at an early age had shot him to the rank of man of the house, a role he had always taken seriously.


So Becky is a spoiled brat and Ryan is a responsible caretaker. Becky hates being told what to do by Ryan but at the same time she is falling in love with him. To make sure that the feeling is mutual she decides to make him jealous and that tears it. Ryan strips her down to her birthday suit and...

“THIS is how you get spanked now.”
 Becky did her best to modestly cover herself, mentally wondering what the hell she'd gotten herself into.  Covering herself earned her a sharp spank on the bottom. 
“Hands at your sides,” Ryan told her firmly.  He made no secret of looking her naked body up and down.  “If you can show that much of yourself to other men, you can show everything to me.” Her nipples were erect to the point of throbbing, and her pussy was soaking wet.  Worse still, she could tell from the look in his eyes that he had noticed.  For today, though, he chose to say nothing about it.  He just made her stand there for another few moments, with everything on display for him. Finally, she was unceremoniously tipped over Ryan's knee, completely naked and extremely vulnerable. She made her mind up to try to keep her legs together so that she wouldn’t give Ryan a complete view of her private jewels, but that idea was short lived. After a half a dozen painful smacks she was clenching and unclenching, kicking her legs for all she was worth, and showing him everything between her legs and sometimes even the most private area between her bottom cheeks.

It's a short scene but very nicely done. Being inside Becky's head for most of the book, and especially during the spanking scenes, makes this one hot read. It's a good example of a very focused third person POV that puts the reader in the position of living through what Becky is experiencing and feeling. My only minor quibble goes back to the first scene in which Becky has a fantasy about being spanked by Ryan. It might have been more effective plot-wise if she'd been initially horrified by the idea, but then slowly discovered that it actually turned her on. But this is a minor quibble. This book is highly recommended. 

Writing the spanking scene--part 4

Nobody guessed but the previous writer was Paul Little, aka Jack Warren, Kenneth Harding, A de Granamour and many others. Purple prose indeed. The thing to remember is that in his era Little was writing for an almost exclusively male market who purchased these books in "Adult Bookstores"--remember those?--places where women feared to tread, and with good reason.

But now things have changed quite a bit. The internet, the eBook reader, and the popularity of mainstream titles like 50 SOG have made what was once the exclusive territory of males open and available to women. But let's go back a little. Even before the Kindle and the iPAD there were books marketing to a mixed audience that included women. Two examples are the publishing houses BLUSHING BOOKS and PINK FLAMINGO. BB from its onset was devoted to erotic/romantic spanking nearly exclusively. PF was broader based, including more BDSM-oriented literature. Both houses, and this continues today are devoted to erotic literature. This is to be contrasted with the spanko porn stylings of Henry and Little. The writing technique is very different as well. The over-the-top sometimes blow by blow descriptions are largely gone as is the use of onomatopoeia.

Here is a scene from Sharon Greene's BARBARIAN WORLDS. It's a different type of spanking erotica, a sci-fi novel with an external plot. The thing that brings it into the ambit of spanking erotica is the setting. The tale takes place on a planet where the men are dominant and the women are spanked if they don't behave.


"No, please, you can't do this to me here!" she insisted as she struggled against being held. "If you have to beat me, the least you can do is do the beating in private!" "As your misbehavior was performed before all, so shall your punishment be done," the lighter-haired man said as he pinned her wrists behind her. "When the others are drawn here by your howling, they will understand at once the reason for the disturbance and will likely remain to see the end of the doing. Now it begins." Denne came up with a choked-down "Oh!" at the first smack of the big man's hand, her pudgy body beginning to squirm. Connis had been able to see at once that Denne was more than a little overweight, something her clothing had been able to hide. But now that she wore nothing of clothing the truth was there for everyone to see, especially when the lighter-haired man's hand reached her bottom. Connis had assumed that Denne's well-padded seat would be more protection during a spanking than Bayla's narrower seat, but that didn't seem to be true. Denne kicked and squirmed and made muffled sounds of pain every time another smack reached her, making it clear that she wasn't better protected. The spanking went on for at least as long as Bayla's had, long enough for Denne's bottom to be turned an embarrassing red. Denne was mewling and almost choking in an effort to keep from making so much noise that others came, and Connis noticed that Bayla was watching every smack reach Denne's backside. Connis herself had finally looked away in a belated effort to give Denne as much privacy as it was possible to give, but Bayla seemed grimly satisfied that someone else was now being given the same humiliation she'd had.
Tears had long since started to run down Denne's cheeks before the spanking was over. When she was lifted from the man's lap and put on her knees, Denne covered her face with her hands and sobbed even as she bounced a little from the ache in her bottom.

Green, Sharon (2009-03-26). Barbarian Worlds I & II Books/ABCD Webmasters. Kindle Edition. 

Note that this is not an overly lurid description. It is somewhat matter-of-fact. Does it have the emotional impact the reader is looking for? I think she needed one more paragraph to ratchet up the intensity. Maybe something featuring the spankee's point of view which I will talk about in a future part in this series.

Next, here is a scene toward the end of the book, A FIRM HUSBAND by Sue Lyndon. This book is a recent "spanking romance" like that of Renee Rose, above. The link to Amazon is HERE.

This one is a western, a favorite setting of romance writers. Why? Because setting the story in a bygone era eliminates the modern notions of feminism and political correctness, not to mention pesky criminal laws, that can get in the way of a good spanking story. This is an excellent book, by the way and is highly recommended. So let's see how Ms. Lyndon handles the spanking scene.


Clara’s lip trembled and she wanted to sink into the bed.  His gaze was so intense, even as she looked down she felt his disappointment burning into her.  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, burying her face into her hands.  The realization of what she’d done came down upon her full-force.  It was too much to bear. “Stand up.”  His tone wasn’t as hard as it usually was during a punishment. Clara rose to her feet, and looked at William with pleading eyes.  She was truly sorry, and while she didn’t want to be punished, she knew she deserved whatever William was about to give her. “I want your clothes off,” he said, standing back to wait. With uncertain eyes, Clara moved to take her dress off, but then she stopped.  “All of them?” “Yes,” he replied.  “I want you naked.” He stepped forward.  “Because I told you to do it,” he said, looking her up and down.  “And also, because I’m going to love you afterwards until the sun rises.” 

Though she was both taken aback and relieved, Clara quickly removed her dress and underclothes.  The air was cool against her breasts and her nipples hardened as she shivered, partly because of the temperature and partly because of fear. As William pulled her over his lap, Clara realized this was the first time William had a reason to punish her since they’d been married.  Somehow, it was more humbling now that they were husband and wife. “I don’t like causing you pain or making you cry, Clara,” he said, resting a hand on her upturned bottom, “But when you disobey me, you deserve to be punished.  And when you do something dangerous, you deserve to be punished.  You deserve this spanking.” A few silent tears escaped from Clara’s eyelids, and she buried her face into the covers.  He was right.  She deserved this spanking.  Closing her eyes tight, she vowed to accept her punishment without kicking or begging.  William was a firm husband, but he was a good husband, and she wanted nothing more than to make him happy and proud of her. Smack!  The first few slaps crashed down, quickly turning the pale flesh of her backside a deep crimson.  It stung badly, just like every spanking at William’s hand had.  Though it was terribly difficult to refrain from struggling against the sharp slaps, Clara managed to keep still even as William covered her thighs. The room was filled with the sounds of Clara’s silky sobs and William’s hand smacking her bottom.  “Your punishment is almost over,” he said, pausing.  “I’m proud of you for keeping so still.  These next few spanks are going to hurt the worst, but I want you to be brave.  No kicking.  No screaming out.  Do you understand, sweetheart?”  His voice was smooth like velvet, and Clara could only nod in response. True to his word, the next few slaps were the most painful.  Pushing Clara’s bottom
higher in the air, he quickly covered the base of her bottom, sharply bringing his hand down upon the tender skin above her thighs.  Clara bit her lip to keep from screaming out.  When his pace increased, she held her breath. 
“It’s over,” William finally said, pulling her into his lap. 
 She cried until she didn’t think she could cry anymore.  She cried because she feared William and the other riders would never return.  She cried because she’d disappointed William.  And she cried because of the spanking itself . . . sitting would be a veritable challenge for the next few days. “I really am sorry,” she whispered after she was all cried out.  “Do you forgive me?” William pulled back and looked down at her.  “Of course I forgive you, sweetheart.” Clara smiled up at him, feeling at peace with the world.  When William’s lips joined with hers, she melted into his gentle kiss.  Keeping her firmly in his lap, he trailed his lips along her neck.  She leaned back, welcoming his advances.  It wasn’t long before she ached with urgency, desperate to feel him between her legs. “Lay down on your stomach,” he whispered as he nibbled her earlobe.  “It won’t hurt as much that way.” Though it pained her to pull away for even a moment, Clara gingerly rose off his lap to lie on her stomach.  From over her shoulder, she watched him undress.  Naked and gloriously aroused, he nestled...

Lyndon, Sue (2012-05-26). A Firm Husband (Kindle Locations 1091-1103). Blushing Books Publications. Kindle Edition.
Wow! Ok, ok! Things are getting steamy without being overly lurid. The description dwells more on the emotional content of the scene and less on the mechanical description of the spanking. Notice it's consensual and the husband is firm but caring. This is the hallmark of the modern way of writing this type of scene for the romance audience. Is it intense enough from a description standpoint? Does the author deliver the goods? This one, I'd say yes. I'd only change things a little, especially if it were the penultimate scene. I would add a sentence or two. In my view the scene is just a little too short. The spanking ends too quickly. Remember a spanking is effective because the sensation is an intensifying one. No one spank is all that important, it builds over time--it's the repetition. But in describing such an event, repetition can be boring. So it's a delicate balance and I think all of us struggle with how to achieve that balance.

Next time--how point of view figures into an effective spanking scene.

Writing the spanking scene---part 3

Today I feature yet another classic example of a description of a spanking scene. Now this one is definitely old school, but the author's technique is very recognizable if you have been around for awhile.

A block to the north of Lorraine Demby, Janice Coleman was undergoing a domestic altercation with her bespectacled brown-haired, thirty-two-year-old husband Peter. Just about the same time that Lorraine was teaching Madge Warren the pleasures of Lesbos, Janice was wrangling with Peter over his stinginess in her weekly allowance. She was twenty-four, spirited, slim and about five feet six inches in height, with flowing auburn hair coiffed in a long pageboy with curls turned under. Her breast were highset, closely spaced and like round oranges, with saucy nipples, while her slim waist veered into lush haunches and upstandingly rounded bottomcheeks with a very narrow crevice between them. Her tawny skin was freckled as well as suntanned, for Janice enjoyed tennis and golfing. It was her contention that Peter as her husband of three years' standing owed her not only the grocery money and enough to maintain the ranch-type bungalow they owned, but also enough for gewgaws and her clothes and a few amusements. He was contending that she was extravagant and that he had given her several hundred dollars only two weeks ago and he was demanding an accounting. 

[Note the description of the lovely Janice. How's that for lurid?]

  “Now see here, Peter, that's not fair!” she protested. “I'm not just your chattel, I'm your wife.”
  “Sometimes I wonder if the former relationship wouldn't be better,” he said sarcastically. “Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
  “I'll tell you, baby, since you brought it up. You're a dish, and every time I take you out in public, I can see that other guys are getting stiff pecks just looking at the way your lovely bottom waggles.”
 “How dare you use such language to me!” “It's about time I used something strong, to wake you up, if you want to know something,” was his sarcastic answer.
[Unwisely, she smarts off to him]

  “I see. Well, then I'm going to resort to my lesson of violence, I'm afraid. Maybe you'll learn.”
  And with this, he seized her by the wrists and dragged her over to the couch and flung her across his lap.
  “Stop it—what are you doing—you let go of me, Peter Coleman—you'll be the sorriest man alive if you don't—now you stop it!” she wailed.
  She started to kick, but he clamped his right leg over her calves, and then, as her hands rushed back to defend her bottom, he pinned both her wrists with his left hand. Now with his right he lofted her pretty blue cotton skirt and the slip beneath it, exposing her magnificently opulent ass encased in a pair of white nylon pantybriefs, so short that it revealed a goodly amount of the swelling tawny-sheened base of those ripely rounded asscheeks of hers. 

["tawney-sheened base of...ripely rounded asscheeks"? You gotta love it.]

  “Nooooooooo!!! You stop that, don't you dare, if you do, I'll go home to Mother!” she wailed. Janice had made this threat before, since her mother lived on Chicago's North Side. Her parents had divorced about five years ago, and her father had moved to Massachusetts where he ran a small country weekly. In Peter Coleman's estimation, neither of her parents had ever really taken a strap to her big bottom and taught her how to be an unselfish and cooperative daughter. That was her main trouble. She was lazy and spoiled, and she was also too argumentative for her own good. He hesitated a moment, and then suddenly tugged down her panties. Janice uttered a wild scream of frantic shame and indignation:   “Ohhhhhhh you dirty bastard—you pull them right up now, I'm going to leave you! I swear I will.

 “All right,” he said grimly. “Go ahead and leave. But you can take a nice sore red ass back to Mother.” With this, mastering her attempt to break her wrists loose of his grip he raised his right hand and brought it down with a sonorous “Smackk!” on the right lower summit of his wife's upturned and struggling bare behind. Janice uttered a wild cry, in which indignation and pain were equally mixed and continued her struggles to no avail. Now, warming to the task and excited by the bright red splotch which had sprung up on the tawny sheened hillock of her bare behind, Peter Coleman began to spank her with gusto. No fewer than fifty times his right hand rose and fell, alternating on the cheeks, while Janice at first threatened and swore at him, and then began to cry, and finally to scream that he was killing her.

  At the last ten, her bottom bounded every time his hand came down on the reddened flesh, and she finally wailed, “Oh my God, I can't stand anymore, you're killing me! Oh Peter, stop it, whatever do you want, oh my God, can't you talk instead of hurting me like this?”
  He paused, out of breath, his hand stinging from the energetic slaps he administered to her voluptuous posterior. Then he righted her, and sat there holding her by the hips while she swayed and sobbed, tears running down her face. As her eyes blinked to clear away the tears, she saw his sardonic face grinning at her, she slapped him again.
  “Oh would you now?” he growled. “Back you go, you deceitful little bitch!” “Ohh—noooooooo!!” she shrieked as he flung her back into position again. This time he yanked her panties completely off, and angled her so that her legs were veering out at angles from the couch and her left shoulder pinned against the back, which took care of her left arm. His left hand gripped her right wrist, and now he really began to spank with all his might, flattening her swollen bottomglobes with each new sonorous blow. She wailed frantically, but he laid on twenty more before he finally stopped. “Now do you think you can act like a good girl?” he wanted to know.
   “Ohh—ahh—ahhrrr—oh yes—oh my God— you've killed me—oh please, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to slap you, but you hurt so bad—oh you've killed me—let me up now, please, Peter!”
  He righted her again. But this time, to her dismay and a wild cry of alarm, he shoved her down onto her back on the couch. Then swiftly, zipping down his fly, emerging his swollen cock, he mounted her.


Whew! A bit politically incorrect, not to mention the criminal implications, but hey, it was a different time, a bygone era. Note the names--Lorraine, Madge, Janice. These are the names of your grandmother's friends. Is this a bit too much purple prose or not? Time to guess the author. Anybody know?

Book Review--Betrothed by Renee Rose

Today I'm going to continue my "writing the spanking scene" exploration by talking about a book. "Betrothed" is an early work of Renee Rose. It's available on several platforms. The Amazon link is HERE.

Betrothed is a "spanking romance," ostensibly an historical romance of the bodice ripper variety, only with the addition of various spanking scenes as dramatic devices that resolve several types of plot conflict. The basic story is that Julia, a young noblewoman has been given in marriage to a person she believes was responsible for her family's misfortune. She runs away from this betrothal only to be swept up in a military conflict and must be rescued by the main protagonist, Bronson, Lord Montfort. She pretends to be a boy and seeks safety as a page to Lord Montfort. He agrees, but as a page she is soon subject to the traditional discipline meted out to pages and the like, in addition to which her disguise does not last long and she is exposed as a young woman. I won't disclose the spoiler, but eventually she and Bronson develop feelings for each other. But it turns out that she is feisty and disobedient, and you know what happens to feisty and disobedient young women in medieval times who disobey their protectors.
     
It's a very sweet and very spicy love story. If I were reviewing this on Amazon, my rating would be four stars which is, in my book, very good. I have no reservation recommending this book to anyone looking for a hot romance with explicit spanking added. So, to return to my earlier topic, how does Ms. Rose handle the spanking scenes? Very well, in my opinion. Here is a sample:

The Earl turned slowly to face her, the belt still in his hand.  She attempted to be as stoic as Matthias, despite the fact that her heart was beating in her throat.  She came to stand before him with her head bowed.  He considered her, not saying a word.  “Should I take off my shirt?” she squeaked.  Another silence under his scrutiny.  Then he asked, “Have you ever been lashed on your back?” She shook her head, unable to answer.  “I'm thinking your bottom might be a better target.  It's a bit easier to take, though it will make riding uncomfortable.” “W-would I have to take my leggings off?”  She darted a glanced at Matthias.  That would be profoundly embarrassing. He shook his head.  He put one foot up on the stool and held his arm out to her.  “Come here.” She obeyed.  He folded her upper body over his knee and lifted her tunic.  She held her breath.  The strokes came just as hard and fast as they had for Matthias.  Ten stinging blows, one right after the next— no time to catch her breath, even to cry.  Just as swiftly, he lifted her off his knee and back onto her feet.  She was gasping,...
Before she knew what was happening, he'd sat down on the stool and pulled her over his lap.  He lifted the back of her tunic again and to her horror, she felt him tugging down her leggings.  Her face grew hot at the embarrassment of having her bottom bared by this man who she liked and respected.  She heard herself whimper. * * * He should not have pulled down her leggings.  Though she may for the moment fall under his jurisdiction, she certainly didn't belong to him, and baring her backside was crossing a line.  But she had planted the idea in his mind, and now that he was determined to spank her again, he simply couldn't stop himself.  She had a perfect little bottom— small and toned with muscle.  The skin was the same beautiful alabaster as her face, except with several red lines where his belt had already marked her.  Her legs were parted enough that he could see—oh God—her sweet little sex was so alluring.  He felt himself grow hard and hoped she couldn't feel it.  He started spanking her with his hand, watching as he turned the whole of her backside pink and then red.  She started crying almost immediately, but she didn't protest, and apart from her involuntary flinching while she waited for the next smack, she held herself very still for his punishment.  She was too sweet, too.....

This is a short one. There are longer scenes including a 100 lash whipping with a belt.The climactic scene occurs when the king orders her lashed for stealing a horse. By that time she is to be married to Bronson, and he asks to be the one to deliver the lashing.

“Please remember,” he said grimly, “that I take no pleasure in this.” “I know,” she said, tears already squeezing out of her eyes.  “Scream as loud as you like,” Bronson said.  “I think this is one instance where it would be better to be heard.” “Why?” “I don't want the integrity of my work here questioned.”  The first stroke struck her on the upper side of her bottom and she nearly jumped a foot with its impact.  The sting made her gasp and then she couldn't breathe for a moment, even as he continued down her backside, making what she imagined were neat, even stripes.  She managed to catch her breath by the time he'd reached the juncture of her bottom and her legs and then lost it again when he moved down the backs of her thighs.  It took fifteen strokes.  She couldn't help but count, knowing how many were coming.  He didn't pause before delivering ten more to the lower side of her bottom, alternating the emphasis between the right and left cheek, though the belt usually struck both.  And she had screamed.  She hadn't lasted more than five lashes before she'd started crying out.  After that he paused and she sobbed and sobbed, feeling like....


The scene continues for several more paragraphs and is very well done. It doesn't fall back on onomatopoeia, and provides a vivid description of the action at the major climax of the story. As you can see, it's very different from the example in the previous post. So why only 4 stars? My one quibble, and this is perhaps just personal preference, but as a reader I would have liked for the lashing to have been in public, or at least attended by witnesses. Bronson would have been compelled by circumstance to be severe. But in private?

“Then allow me to administer her punishment.  Privately.”  The conciliatory tone was gone.  Bronson's voice was grim and held the edge of challenge in it.  He met the king's eyes with a level gaze.  Julia held her breath.  The servants had hold of her arms, but were waiting for the king's judgment.  Sweet Jesu... The king considered them for a long time.  “You have grown fond of your bride.” 
 
 The reader has to ask whether Bronson can be trusted to carry out the king's justice with sufficient severity. This is especially true since in the above scene it is established that Bronson is no simpering vassal. You'd have to ask why he would give her a serious lashing once they were in private.

 But that minor plot point aside, it's a really good book and I recommend it highly. It's romantic and hot and I especially like the way Renee handles her spanking scenes in this one.