In this newsletter:

• A hot doctor who spanks.

• A patient who very much deserves a good spanking.

• The sneakiest of sneak previews! 

• A bodyguard spanks a would-be starlet, and....

• Aliens. (As is tradition.)

Hello!

This is my very first newsletter ever, of all time, ever. And if you're not excited by that, then perhaps you'll be excited by the theme of it: Hot Doctors (and their corollary, reluctant patients.)

What makes doctors so hot? Is it the fact that they wield the power of life and death in their capable hands? Is it that they are in some respects the ultimate authority figures? Is it because Hugh Laurie played House M.D and we learned that a doctor can still be devastatingly attractive even with a limp and a vicodin addiction? Is it because a doctor has access to the most intimate parts of our bodies? Or because a doctor understands us in a way we do not understand ourselves?

All of the above, no doubt and more. It's also worth noting in this study of doctorly hotness, that the doctor's attractiveness is positively correlated with the chances of their patient not making it. ER doctors are exceptionally hot, whereas a GP is far less enticing, possibly because they tend to deal with less serious ailments and certainly because nothing is less erotic than a waiting room full of snot nosed strangers and dog eared magazines from 1988.

Because it is important to be able to gauge the hotness of a medical professional, I have taken the liberty of formulating a formula to quantify the unquantifiable:

Hotness of doctor = Severity of medical conditions treated x seriousness of demeanour x likelihood of a table with stirrups being involved squared. (Oh, and it helps if the doctor knows the value of a good sound spanking too.)

 

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Brand Spanking New!

Doctor Knows Best

In my latest book, Doctor Knows Best, a career woman with a painful past finds herself under the care of the very handsome doctor Steven Foster, who she mentally refers to as a medical Viking. (Vikings are so hot right now.)

Laura Lewis is the sort of woman who can manage a transfer of funds from Trinidad to Timbuktu but wouldn't know what to do with an egg and a frying pan if she was starving. From a young age, she poured herself into work and it paid off. She's now the CFO of a major company and completely, utterly, alone.

A poor diet and severe stress land Laura in the hospital, where Steven immediately takes charge of her. Of course, Laura doesn't care for being taken charge of because there's work to be done, even while hooked up to half a dozen bleeping machines. Deprived of her office, she takes to her smart phone, which is like a computer you can hide in the folds of your hospital gown.

Her physician does not approve. Not of her working on her phone, or her hectic lifestyle, or the fact that there are pet rocks displaying better self-care strategies. He realizes that in spite of her well put together appearance, Laura needs to be looked after. The first thing she needs is a damn good spanking for continuing to work against doctor's orders.

Laura soon finds herself with her hospital gown raised and her bottom bared, but that's when Steven sees her dirtiest little secret....  

“You’re bruised,” he noted. She felt his fingertips trailing across her cheeks with a touch that was light and professional, but undeniably intimate.

Laura buried her face in her pillows as heat suffused her face. Oh, God. He was going to think the most terrible things.

“Both cheeks, relatively deeply. What happened here?”

“It’s not medically relevant,” Laura mumbled.

“It looks like someone spanked you. Hard.” His fingers traced her bottom again. “With a wooden spoon or a hairbrush, I’d say.”

Laura felt herself almost melt into the bed with mortification.

“Why would the person who inflicted this on your bottom not have visited you?”

“That’s not medically relevant either,” she said, trying to sound sure of herself—which was difficult when she was still bare bottomed in front of a handsome doctor who apparently knew precisely what a well-spanked bottom looked like after the event.

“Looks as though whoever did this went a great deal harder on the right side than the left, which either means you let some incompetent get their hands on you, which doesn’t seem likely given your tolerance for anything but perfection—or you spanked yourself, young lady.”

Laura’s stomach did a triple flip inside her belly. She was glad she was no longer hooked up to any of the medical equipment because she would have had the entire floor rushing to her aid.

“What are you, some kind of corporal punishment detective?”

“I’m a doctor,” Dr. Foster reminded her. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He lowered her gown, patted her bottom in a friendly fashion and restored the blankets up to her waist. Laura stayed face down. She had no desire to look him in the eye and see the knowing expression there. Nobody else on the planet knew about her desire for discipline. Now she shared her secret with what amounted to a total stranger.

Laura let out a little sniff, unable to prevent an emotional reaction. She had withstood a great number of indignities in the hospital, but this was the final straw. This was the revelation of her most hidden self, a side of her personality she guarded carefully from the world. Thoroughly embarrassed and feeling more exposed than she could bear, Laura felt hot tears beginning to sting her eyes.

“Oh, no,” Dr. Foster said, his large hand descending to gently rub her back. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s really nothing to be ashamed of. If it helps, I quite agree.”

“You quite agree what?” Laura mumbled into her now wet pillow.

“You certainly need a good spanking. Though it’s more effective if someone else spanks your bottom for you.”

Spanks your bottom for you. The words reverberated through Laura leaving her shivering with excitement mixed with uncertainty and vulnerability.

Doctor Knows Best is available by clicking here!

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Previously in medical erotica....

A Difficult Patient Medical Erotica

Upon arriving at Memorial General Hospital for treatment following a minor bicycle accident, twenty-six-year-old lawyer Alyssa Winters quickly becomes frustrated at wasting so many billable hours. Ignoring her complaints, Dr. Chase Wright—without a doubt the most handsome doctor Alyssa has ever seen—informs her that he will be personally seeing to her care and he expects her to do as she is told.

Chase asserts his authority immediately and Alyssa is soon blushing red as her temperature is taken the old-fashioned way. More shameful still, when she disobeys his instructions she finds herself over his knee for a sound spanking. Worst of all, after he learns that she’s never visited a gynecologist in her life, his subsequent examination results in the most embarrassing display of arousal she has ever experienced.

Even after leaving the hospital, Alyssa discovers that her ordeal isn’t over. Her firm has assigned her a new client, and that client is none other than Dr. Chase Wright. But how can she work with a gorgeous man who seems to fully understand that underneath her abrasive exterior, she just wants him to take control, spank her bare bottom when she gets out of hand, and then have her any way he wants her?

Get A Difficult Patient here :)

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Sneak Previews

This is an excerpt from the beginning of one of my WIP's which centres around the theme of alien abduction. A promising young college student is taken from her bed in the middle of the night and whisked off to a world beyond her imagination...

Lyra had known when she went to bed that it was one of the last nights she would ever sleep in her childhood bedroom. The promise of a new world was in the air thanks to a full ride scholarship to the college of her choice won on the back of a brilliant gymnastics career. At nineteen years of age, she was already a three time Olympic medalist. Though the glory days were most likely over, she was looking forward to starting the next phase of her life including pledging a sorority, worrying about her grades, maybe meeting a man she liked – in short, experiencing college like a normal person. She was so excited she could barely sleep. It was no wonder then that she woke up easily when she heard a sound like none she'd ever heard before.

A great humming VOOOOMMM made everything seem to vibrate, trophies dancing on their shelves, medals swinging in their cases. For a second she thought that the house was being vacuumed into a giant Dyson, but when she opened her eyes nothing was moving besides a billowing shadow at the foot of her bed.

Lyra sat up and stared. She did not know if she was truly awake, but she was wearing the same baggy t-shirt she had been wearing when she went to bed and she sure felt awake. The cloud at the end of the bed was swirling, moving, turning into something.

In a matter of seconds, the cloud became a person that was not a person. That was to say whatever it was was vaguely humanoid in shape, but failed to conform to many of her expectations.

There were protrusions rising from its shoulders and the crest of its thick, broad skull, which would have been concerning enough if it were not for the fact that its arms ended at the elbow and turned into three tentacles instead of hands, black and curling and uncurling in constant motion. The creature's face was somewhat shrouded in the shadows, but it seemed to have fringes where its mouth should be and what she could make out of its eyes were dark amber almonds leering under a thick ridge of bone. If she'd had the chance to describe it to a police sketch artist she would have said it was like a cross between a person and an octopus and a triceratops.

Faced with such a frightening apparition, Lyra opened her mouth in a scream. To her horror, nothing came out. Try as she might, she could not make any sound louder than the skittering of a mouse.

“Quiet!” The creature spoke in a voice so deep it made her skull vibrate. “You have been chosen.”

Chosen or not, Lyra was not prepared to go quietly into whatever strange night this creature had planned for her. She pushed back her covers and tried to run, some small part of her hoping that this was a dream and that the act of moving would wake her. It did not.

The creature's tentacle arms extended across the space and wrapped around her. Each of the tentacles seemed to be as strong as the average human arm as well as being capable of operating independently. This meant the creature had six arms with which to effectively restrain her. It did so by winding its tentacles around each of her arms and pulling her across the floor.

Lyra lashed out, kicking for all she was worth. Several of the shots caught the creature in its midsection and seemed to cause it pain – enough for it to dump her face down on her bed. Lyra tried climb out the window above her bed but the moment she moved the creature latched on again, catching her by the ankles with the tentacles of one arm. The other was raised into the air, long thick tentacles curling and uncurling in preparation for its next action, which was to come down across her bottom and lower thighs in three hard lashing strokes. Still Lyra could not scream, but that did not stop a bright burning pain from searing into her skin.

“You will obey,” it said in a voice which sounded like thunder inside her head. “Or you will be punished.”

It pulled her close again, not bothering to change its grip. Lyra ended up dangling upside down not unlike a fresh caught fish as the same cloud which had heralded the creature's arrival enveloped her thickly, erasing her nice homely room from existence.  

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A Wilder Heart

In other news, I have a series starting on Blushing Book's Woodshed called 'A Wilder Heart'. This book is about Aster Wilder, the daughter of a Hollywood superstar who manages to land herself a role in a film being shot in New Zealand - but not before getting herself arrested in Los Angeles. Her furious father employs a bodyguard to keep her in line as well as keep her safe. Enter Owen, and our second sneak preview!

“Oh my god, you're Aster Wilder!” A shrill voice to her left heralded the beginning of the end.

Aster wasn't used to being recognized. Then again, she also wasn't used to having her picture splashed across television, print and the internet. She realized that behind the woman who had recognized her there were a half dozen more people staring at her, and beyond that, several paparazzi with cameras. For a moment, she wondered why they were there. Then she realized it was all on her account.

Simultaneously a little scared and annoyed, Aster glanced around at Owen and Sarah. They weren't where they had been at the bar. A spike of panic rose in Aster, but a moment later she felt someone touch her elbow. It was Owen, guiding her up from the chair as the paparazzi surged forward, sensing blood in the water.

“Aster!” Someone yelled her name. “How high are you right now?”

The question made her screw her face up. A second later a flash went off, immortalizing her expression for all time.

Aster did not think of herself as being a particularly volatile or aggressive person. Then again, she had never been surrounded by what seemed to her to be human jackals of one kind or another, snickering photographers crowding her unbearably.

“Aster! Is it true you're addicted to crack cocaine?”

“Aster! Will you be going to prison for these charges?”

“Aster! Aster! Aster!”

Aster never thought she'd be sick of the sound of her own name, but if she heard it again she was fairly certain that she was going to do something she'd probably regret. This was a far cry from the hallowed academic halls of Woolridge College where she had done her post graduate work. There people knew her only as a top student and a respected academic adviser.

It was all much too much, more than any reasonable person could ever be expected to bear. Her most embarrassing moment had become a matter for public consumption and now she was to be hounded every time she stepped out in public.

Her drink was in her hand one moment and flying at a paparazzi's camera the next. Owen grabbed at her arm, but it was too late. The drink had smashed into the lens, eliciting excited cries from all and sundry. Flashes went off in a cacophony of light, nearly blinding her as strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted off her feet. She was carried to relatively safety in Owen's arms, taken to a nearby SUV and put inside with a hard swat to her bottom.

“Ow! What the hell?” Squealing indignantly, Aster rounded on Owen. In the confined space of the car she found herself practically nose to nose with him as she rubbed her bottom and scowled furiously. “What did you do that for?”

“You shouldn't be throwing things,” Owen informed her.

Aster threw her hands up. “Did you hear what they were saying to me?”

“It doesn't matter what they say to you. That's why they say those things, so you lose your temper.”

Her glare became more intense. “So, what do you care? It's not your problem.”

“You're my problem,” he said in that laconic drawl which belied his intensity. He sat back and started talking to the driver, ignoring Aster. The windows of the SUV were tinted which protected her from the cameras, but not from the general commotion. She could hear the hubbub and clamor outside clear as day.

Her phone rang and she answered it.

“Oh my god,” Sarah squealed. “That was hilarious. You are going to be in all the magazines tomorrow too. They're already talking about your meltdown.”

Aster covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. This was not good. This was not good at all. For years she'd smugly judged the young women of Hollywood for being complete hot messes. It had taken less than a week to turn into one of them herself.

Her phone rang again, call waiting beeping through Sarah's glee.

“I have to go, Sarah, someone else is on the line. It's probably my father wanting to kill me.”

“Good luck,” Sarah giggled as she hung up.

It was not Aster's father on the phone. It was Dirk Wendigo, the director of the film. “Aster, baby,” he said in energized tones. “You have to pace yourself."

“I'm so sorry,” Aster apologized. “It's... none of it is what it looks like.”

“It's great for the movie,” Dirk boomed. “But leave it a little closer to launch.”

Simultaneously effulgent and cynical, there was not one jot of genuine concern in Dirk's tone. Much like Sarah, he seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. There were only two people not taking any delight in recent events. Owen – and her father.

Owen was sitting in alert silence next to her. She still hadn't processed the fact that he'd struck her. Smacked her ass none too gently, in fact.

“When I tell my father what you did, he's going to tear you up,” she promised Owen after hanging up from Dirk. “You laid your hands on me. You hit me.”

“I gave you a little smack,” Owen told her. It was worse when he spoke, when he looked at her with those maddeningly calm eyes and just stated facts such as they were. “You were getting out of hand.”

“Out of hand? I was the one being harassed. None of that was my fault.”

“You didn't have to throw anything.”

Frustrated almost to the point of tears both by the passage of events and her own annoyance with herself, Aster felt her temper rising all over again. Owen was sitting there all smug and silent, passing casual judgment on her. Who the hell was he?

“I don't need your opinion,” she snapped. “Your job isn't to tell me how to behave.”

“Actually, it is,” Owen disagreed. “It's my job to keep you safe, which is difficult if you throw glasses at everyone who annoys you. You escalated the situation.”

“I escalated the situation?” Aster's voice rose to a high squeal. “I'll show you what escalating a situation is.” She grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be a can of soda sitting in the cooled cup holder. She held it high behind her shoulder, ready to launch it. At what, she did not know, all she knew was that she was such a mess of nerves and upset that she needed to get some of those feelings out somehow.

Owen nailed her with his golden brown gaze. “Put that down.” All of a sudden, he didn't sound so laid back anymore. All of a sudden he sounded clipped and authoritarian.

“No,” Aster said. “I can do what I want.”

He didn't bother with any further discussion on the matter. He reached out with one long arm, took the soda can and Aster's hand with it and drew it down. Aster found herself pulled unceremoniously across her bodyguard's thighs as she struggled to keep a hold of her soda.

“Let it go.” He was back to that drawl, which seemed tinged with a touch of amusement. And why not? He had her sprawled across his lap in a position which wasn't precisely sexual, but was undeniably intimate.

Aster didn't let the can go. A part of her knew she was being silly, but another, much more powerful part didn't want to lose another battle. If she could just keep a hold of the can, maybe she would have some shred of control.

She felt a sudden blaze of heat flash across her bottom as his palm caught her cheeks. This time it was no simple swat. This time it was a hard smack which made her gasp with pain and outrage. It hurt. It hurt very much, the tingling echoes and the sting sinking through her bottom for seconds after it landed.

Springing up from his lap, Aster looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth open in an expression of shocked surprise. “What was that...”

“Put your seat belt on,” Owen said calmly as if nothing had happened. “I'm taking you home.”

Thank you! :D

This concludes the newsletter. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this inagural foray into letters which might not strictly be considered news per se, but which are formatted as such. Stay tuned for more excitement and whatnottery in future updates. 

Yours,

Loki