In this newsletter:

• An alien abduction.

• A benevolent kidnapping.

• An essential enema, and...

• A pet play adjacent preview!

Hello and welcome to the second Loki Renard newsletter. These things come out but twelve times a year and are always packed with hot bottomed erotic combinations of words, and entertaining adventures to far off places. This month's newsletter is bought to you by tentacles.

Tentacles. For when hands won't do. 

 

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Brand Spanking New!

The Rebel's Mate is the tale of a gymnast turned gladiator and a prisoner turned rebel fighting their way across the universe and taking revenge on an evil alien race who fight and breed humans for sport. 

Lyra is a prize fighting pet, but when her alien owner realizes that her fighting days are probably numbered, he decides to have her mated so he can profit by her offspring. 

Rake is a gladiator of a much rougher kind. After being selected to impregnate Lyra, he decides instead to rescue her against her will. 

What ensues is a fast-paced erotic and disciplinary jaunt across several star systems as Rake deprograms Lyra from the thought patterns installed by her alien captors and takes her to a new kind of freedom.

Also, enemas. And dinosaurs.

Click here to get The Rebel's Mate

An enema excerpt from The Rebel's Mate:

“Are you alright? You’re sweating.” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “Lyra. You’re burning up.”

“It couldn’t be a reaction to the surgery, could it?”

“I don’t think so,” Rake frowned at her, his eyes narrowing as the seconds ticked by. “Have you been eating the Vonyak rations?”

“No…” Lyra let her voice trail off in a way that strongly indicated she wasn’t telling the truth.

“Lyra,” he sighed. “How much have you eaten?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It was tasty.”

“Our bodies can’t process a lot of the Vonyak rations. I told you that.”

“I know, but I didn’t listen.”

“No, you didn’t, did you.” He sighed. “Lyra…”

She looked up at him under her lashes. “Are you going to… am I in trouble?”

“This is going to be its own consequence,” he informed her. “We need to clear some of that out of your system. You’re going to be sick until it is out of your system.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the problem with Vonyak food is that it doesn’t process properly. Your gut can’t deal with what you’ve been putting into it. The Vonyak rations will gum you up like super glue. You’re going to need some help getting things moving again. I’m going to give you an enema.”

An enema. Lyra took a second to register what he meant. “What? No!”

“Not really up for discussion on this one,” he said. “You’re going to be very sick unless this happens. We’re going to sick bay.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Lyra said as he stood up, clasping her in his arms. “I’ll probably be better with just a little hot tea or something.”

“There’s no way around this,” Rake said as he carried her into the sick bay and put her down on the bed. “I’m sorry we have to do this so soon after your last trip here, but you could be very, very ill if we don’t treat this right away.”

“But…”

“No buts,” he said, becoming stern. “Lie on your side and pull your knees up toward your belly.”

“Rake…”

“On your side. Knees up.” He gave the order firmly enough for Lyra to remember why she quite often didn’t like him. He expected her to do the most embarrassing, vulnerable things just because he said so.

“I’m…”

He sighed, took hold of her arm, and rolled her onto her undamaged side. Her bottom was already bare thanks to the fact that she’d taken her pants off earlier so there was no protection at all as he began swatting her cheeks with hard, crisp swats that made her yowl and squirm.

“What are you doing?!”

“Spanking you first,” he said, landing another slap to her cheeks. “Seeing as you clearly aren’t going to let me save your life without one.”

“I just feel a bit sick,” she complained. “I’m not dying.”

“Hate to tell you this, Lyra, but you need a digestive system to, you know, live. When was the last time you went to the bathroom?”

“None of your business!”

He smacked her bottom hard. “Tell me.”

“Maybe… a couple of days ago?”

“Maybe a couple of days ago,” he repeated. “Maybe a day or two more than that, as well?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. Her face was so hot, she was sure they could have cooked rations on it. Talking to Rake about her toileting habits was not her idea of a good time.

“Toxins are building up in your body,” he said. “That’s what’s causing the fever. It’s only going to get higher and worse. Your liver and kidneys are going to shut down. There aren’t going to be enough painkillers on this ship to mask the agony you feel as you die from organ failure if I don’t do this now.”

When he put it that way, it did sound serious. “Okay,” she said. “You should have told me that first instead of wasting time smacking me.”

“I didn’t want to frighten you,” Rake said, turning away to go through the medical supplies. “This is a quick and easy fix if I get the right solution into you. Assume the position please, young lady.”

Lyra did as she was told, hating every second of it. The cloying sense of nausea seemed much more ominous now and all she wanted was for the procedure to be over. Easier to call it a procedure than an enema, even in her mind.

“Okay,” Rake said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m ready. Just try to relax, okay?”

She nodded and shut her eyes. With her eyes shut she could maybe pretend that what was happening wasn’t actually happening. That plan lasted about as long as it took for Rake to part her bottom cheeks and dab cool lubricant against her anus.

“Oh, my god,” Lyra groaned.

“It’s okay,” Rake soothed. “You’re doing fine.”

She felt something long and hard nuzzling at the lubricated aperture and let out a little hiss of surprise. Slowly but surely, the end of the enema nozzle began to sink inside her body, taking her in a place she’d never been taken before. Rake seemed almost practiced in the art of giving an enema; she felt it in the sureness of his touch and the way the nozzle moved inside her with little resistance.

“Take it out,” she whimpered softly.

“Soon,” he said. “Just try to relax.”

He might as well have told her to get up from the bed and try to fly. It was impossible to relax with her bottom full of hard plastic being propelled by the hand of a strong man. It seemed to take an eternity for him to be satisfied that it was in the right position.

“There,” he said, patting her bottom gently. “That’s perfect.”

Lyra let out a little groan of pure mortification.

“You’re going to feel a lot better soon,” he promised as a trickle of warm liquid began to seep inside her bottom.

Lyra doubted it. She would never live this one down. It was one thing to be spanked by Rake, something else entirely for him to oversee the cleaning of her bowels. She was completely undone by the process that left her feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever in her life. Hot tears prickled behind her lashes. She tried to keep them in, but they seeped out and ran down her cheeks.

He saw her distress immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong? Does it hurt? Look at me, Lyra.”

“I can’t look at you,” she said, keeping her eyes deliberately shut. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s just… awful.”

The solution was still trickling, she could feel it as a queer pressure running through her innards. It didn’t hurt necessarily, but it wasn’t comfortable.

She could feel Rake close behind her, one hand on her hip, the other making a small adjustment to the nozzle, sliding it just a little deeper. His presence was both soothing and reassuring, and a source of mortification.

“Do you have to be here for this?”

“Yes,” he said. There seemed to be a slight tone of amusement in his voice. “It’s not going to be too much longer now. I know this isn’t pleasant.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lyra muttered. Her stomach was cramping and her bottom was full and she wanted to hide except there was nowhere to hide. She was stuck there on the cool medical bed until such time Rake saw fit to release her from her anal shackle. That plastic nozzle held her in place as surely as manacles would have. There was no escaping the way it made her bottom stretch around it, or how full she felt as the solution seeped from it inside her. There was equally no escaping the fact that it was her own fault that she was in this position. Rake had warned her, but she had not heeded his warning. She had not listened to a word he’d said since they first met, not really. She had fought him every inch of every step along the way, and she had suffered for it. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she realized just how wrong she had been.

“Shhh,” Rake said, mistaking the source of her tears for a reaction to the enema. “It’s going to be over soon. Just a few minutes longer.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

“You’re sorry?” He seemed surprised to hear her say those words.

“I’ve been so stupid. Everything I’ve done has been stupid.”

“Easy,” he said as she started to sob. “I did kidnap you; it’s not as if you didn’t have some reason not to listen to me.”

“I’ve been a prisoner my entire adult life,” Lyra sniffed, finally opening her eyes to look at him. “I don’t even know what it’s like to be free. I don’t know anything about anything.”

“You know not to eat Vonyak food again,” he said with a gentle smile. “And you’re not my prisoner. You’re my partner in crime.”

“Do partners in crime give one another enemas?”

“They do if they have to,” he winked and patted her bottom lightly.

---

Previously in erotic science fiction...

Masters of Eden Sci Fi Menage

Sentenced to spend the rest of her life in a prison colony as punishment for daring to stand up against oppression, twenty-eight-year-old Eden Wells has only one goal: to escape before she can be delivered to her fate. Unfortunately for Eden, two firm-handed men stand in her way.

From the moment the beautiful, defiant prisoner first set foot on their ship, Ghost and Mixer knew this job was going to be like nothing they’d faced before. Eden’s constant deceptions and endless mischief keep the men constantly on their toes, and though each attempt at escape earns her a long, hard paddling on her bare bottom, no punishment seems able to keep her compliant for long. Despite their best efforts, the men soon grow close to their troublesome captive and her charms attract them more each day, until at last they can resist no longer.

Eden has always craved someone strong enough to handle her, but until now no man had ever come close. Though she would blush to admit it, Eden quickly finds herself craving both their strict discipline and the confident, powerful way they lay claim to her body—sometimes both at the same time. But no matter how much she longs to be theirs forever, Eden knows that escape must be her top priority. Can she find a way to keep both her freedom and their love?

Click here to read a sample or get this book on Amazon!

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Sneak Preview!

COMING SOON! Obedience Training is, briefly, a book about an out of control artist with an out of control dog who retains the services of a trainer only to discover that the handsome Englishman doesn't think it's the dog who needs training... discipline and dominance ensue!

The trainer came highly recommended via a patron of Sarah's, a woman with connections to the best of everything. She had the best car, the best lawyer, the best house, the best art, of course and she had insisted that Laura engage the services of the man who had trained her two great Danes to do everything but the dishes.

Sarah waited for him in the front garden, performing her morning meditation with the aid of her favorite pipe. She puffed gently away on the long stem and walked the circular path of spirit stones, centering herself for the day ahead. Her creative juices were at somewhat of an ebb for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on. The colors awaited her direction, but inspiration was lacking.

The creaking of the gate announced the trainer's arrival. Sarah capped her pipe, stashed it in the fork of an obliging tree and went to meet the man coming down the garden path. He was tall and fair, his hair cut stylishly in a way that let his longish locks sweep back over his forehead just shy of falling into his eyes. His jaw and chin were covered in light stubble, just a little more than five o'clock shadow. He had a wide mouth which spread easily in a smile as she appeared on the path in front of him. She pegged him as being maybe mid-thirties, a little older than herself.

“You must be Sarah,” he said, shaking her hand warmly. “Nice to meet you. I'm Austin.”

She hadn't expected his voice. There was an accent for starters, a refined English lilt which made him sound as though he had a plum in his mouth. It should have sounded pretentious, but he had a warmth which utterly obliterated all such notions.

“Wow,” she said. “You're not from here.”

“Well,” he said with a crooked little smile. “I'm from the general region of Earth.”

“That's more than I can say for most people I know,” Sarah smiled. “Come on. I have the beast contained in my studio.”

She lead the handsome trainer through the wilderness that was her garden to the little fern surrounded studio where Nunu's diminutive curly black body could be seen through the sliding glass door, bouncing up against the frame and growling quite furiously.

In spite of his small stature, Nunu was capable of putting on quite a display of aggression when he wanted to. Being shut away from the action always made him agitated. He needed to be center stage, in the middle of it all.

“Go ahead and let him out,” Austin said.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh I'm fairly certain I can handle whatever he has to throw at me,” Austin smiled.

He didn't know what he was getting into. Nunu might be small, but he was a whirlwind of chaos. Austin's neatly pressed shirt and tidy denim jeans gave her the impression that he was not a man who tolerated chaos very well.

“I don't take any responsibility for what happens once I open this door,” she warned him ominously.

Austin's cheek dimpled as his kindly gaze enveloped her. “It will be fine,” he said in soothing tones. “I want to see him at his worst so I know what you're dealing with.”

Reassured, though not entirely confident, Sarah pushed the door open. Nunu came speeding out, shrieking and yapping and hiding behind her ankles. He didn't seem to want to tangle with Austin who did not pay him the slightest bit of attention, not even a glance.

“He's very protective,” Sarah tried to explain through the high pitched canine shrieks. “He doesn't like it when other people get close to me, especially men. He bit one of my dates.”

At that moment, as if cued, Nunu darted forward and grabbed the hem of Austin's pants, yanking and growling with all the fluffy fury at his disposal.

“Nunu no!” Sarah squealed her annoyance and bent down to try to pull the little dog away. She received a nip for her troubles. She swore and shook her hand while Nunu returned to the destruction of Austin's jeans.

“Leave him,” Austin said calmly. “When you squeal like that, he thinks you're joining in. Did he break the skin with that bite?”

“No,” Sarah said, holding her hand close to her chest as she glowered at Nunu. The little beast had never nipped her before. How dare he!

Austin held his hand out, wanting her to put hers in it for examination. When she hesitated, he took it gently and examined it closely.

“He didn't break the skin, but he did give you quite a nip.” Austin's touch was warm and caring, his hands so large hers looked diminutive in comparison. Sarah let her palm rest in his a little longer than was strictly necessary, enjoying the way his thumb massaged across the site of the nip.

“Do you have something to stop him from doing that again?” She asked the question in dark tones, cutting her eyes at the dog at her feet.

“Nunu just needs some rules,” Austin said. “He needs to know that he's not in charge of defending you. He's a nervous little guy.”

She looked down at Nunu, who was standing there panting with a broad grin, apparently pleased with himself.

“He doesn't seem nervous.”

“He's not breathing like that because he's happy. That's stress.”

“He looks like he's smiling.”

“It might look that way, but given he just tried to take a chunk out of my leg and he did get you I think it's safe to say he's not smiling.”

“Well,” she insisted. “I think he's happy.”

“How does he behave inside?” Austin changed the subject tactfully.

“Inside? Sort of the same more or less. Come on in and see.”

Followed by Austin and Nunu, Sarah pushed her front door open, climbed over the vacuum cleaner, tip toed around a couple of trash bags which hadn't quite made it outside, dodged some discarded pantyhose then tripped over several discarded wine bottles and ultimately landed on her large orange puffy couch, giggling amid squishy pink pillows. “Sorry,” she said. “I haven't cleaned up from last night yet.”

Nunu barked and jumped on top of her, putting his paws on her head and wagging his entire rear. He seemed to have already forgotten that he'd put his teeth on her.

Austin looked around the house with a mild, slightly perplexed expression on his face. “This explains quite a lot.”

“It's usually tidier than this,” she reassured him. It wasn't entirely true, but he was looking rather concerned. His brow had furrowed and his mouth was set in a firm, hard line. One would have thought he had walked into a heinous crime scene, not a perfectly normal home.

“You live alone?”

“It's just me and Nunu,” Sarah confirmed. “We have fun though, we like to entertain.”

“I can see that,” Austin said, his bright blue eyes sliding over to her kitchen where several plates of vittles were gently decomposing. “What do you feed Nunu?”

“He eats what I eat,” Sarah said. “I'm Paleo only, so it's very healthy for him.”

“Healthy, huh?” He didn't seem that convinced as he walked gingerly around the room. “What is this?” He was standing in front of a canvas covered in colorful foot and paw prints.

“Nunu and I made that together,” Sarah explained. “We walked through paint and then ran across the canvas. Don't worry, I made sure it was non-toxic. We both had to have long baths after that though.” She grinned happily as Austin smiled.

“It's cute,” he said.

“So what do I need to do?” Sarah turned over to lay on her back. Nunu climbed on her chest and licked her face. “Do I need to show him that I'm the alpha?”

“Dominance theory has been more or less disproved in domestic canines,” Austin said. “But it holds surprisingly true for people.”

“Huh?”

“I'm saying I'm not sure Nunu is the problem,” Austin said, his crystal clear blue eyes settling on her with stern warmth. “There's certainly a lack of discipline in the home, but you're suffering more than he is for want of it.”

Sarah felt her jaw drop. She didn't know what to say. Austin was a gorgeous man. It was both easier and harder to take criticism from a man like him. Easier, because everything he said sounded like heavenly gravel. She could have happily listened to him reading a takeaway menu for hours. It was also harder, because the notion he was anything other than completely impressed by her hurt her uterus' hopes and dreams for bearing his young. A far-fetched notion, to be sure, but something about Austin made every single part of her quiver in response. She was feeling very inspired all of a sudden.

“I don't think you can make a judgment that quickly,” she said, sitting up with Nunu in her hands. “I mean, no, it's not the tidiest here, but that's not why Nunu bit you... and me.”

“Nunu bites because Nunu does whatever he wants, much like his owner, I imagine.”

“You've been here ten minutes,” Sarah said, much insulted. “And we've exchanged maybe ten sentences. There's no way you can judge me that quickly. Besides I didn't ask you to come here and tell me about me,” Sarah pointed out. “I asked you here to fix Nunu.”

“Most of the time a dog's issues are caused either directly or indirectly by the way the dog's owner behaves,” Austin explained. “Dogs have different traits and personalities, but how they're expressed is determined by the owner. You.”

Sarah frowned. “Well that sounds like this is my fault.”

Austin's expression became professionally inscrutable. “It's not so bad,” he said. “A little bit of order can go a very long way.”

“I don't believe in order,” Sarah informed him. “I'm an artist. Artists must have freedom if they are to create. I can't cramp myself with rules and order and...” she screwed her face up as she searched her mind for another synonym for those words.

“Here's the thing,” Austin said. “It's not fair to Nunu. He's not happy in this chaos. He needs to know where the boundaries are to feel safe. He needs rules the same way he needs food and shelter. It's something you need to give him as an owner.”

Sarah didn't like that either, this time because it made her feel bad for a different reason. Now it wasn't just her fault that Nunu bit people. Now she was directly responsible for making her little dog unhappy.

“I don't agree.”

Austin stood in the middle of her living room, between an open can of paint and a plastic fish and slowly raised a brow at her.

“There's only so much I can do,” he said gently. “If I don't have you on side.”

Sarah patted Nunu and tried not to scowl at Austin too much. The sensible voice in her brain told her that she'd called him in because Nunu was out of control and she should probably listen to what he had to say.

“Do people usually roll over and change their whole lifestyle because you tell them to?”

“I work with two kinds of people,” Austin said. “One kind make the changes they need to so their dogs can be happy and well adjusted, and one kind that keep doing whatever they were doing in the first place and their dogs end up suffering for it.”

“You're saying if I don't tidy the house, Nunu is going to end up joining a gang?”

The corner of Austin's lips twitched. “Cute,” he said. “But this is a serious issue, isn't it. I assume you didn't enjoy being bitten by your own dog?”

“Well,” Sarah scowled down at Nunu. “No.”

“And he's only, what, a year and a half at most?”

“About that,” Sarah admitted.

“This is the time he needs you to be firm so he knows how to behave for the rest of his life.”

Nunu had been listening to Austin, cocking his head from side to side as the man spoke. As Austin finished his sentence, Nunu jumped down from her chest, trotted over to Austin, sniffed his pants where he'd previously bitten them and sat down, looking up at the man.

“I think he's casting his vote,” Austin smiled. “What do you think, Sarah?”

“I think he's decided he likes you,” Sarah replied. “He usually never goes to anyone else but me.”

She watched, amazed as Nunu stretched out and laid down, his body just barely longer than Austin's shoe. The man had big feet.

“He really likes you.”

“Dogs like firm leadership,” Austin said. “So do people, if they let themselves.”

There was a particular note to his tone, a pointedness which made Sarah quiver.

“I don't believe in authority or hierarchy,” she said. “It's just a carryover from patriarchal paradigms, which are redundant in this modern age.”

“Uh huh.”

He didn't seem to be buying it. Truth be told, Sarah wasn't sure she was buying it either. Not that she didn't have the courage of her convictions, but looking Austin in the eye and telling him she didn't believe in authority seemed disingenuous. Authority flowed out of his every pore. She could sense it emanating from him, like an aura almost. Nunu sensed it too. It had taken Nunu about five minutes to accept it. Sarah didn't think she'd come around that quickly.

“So you're saying I need to be an authority figure for him?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Should I go out and mark my territory? Pee on something?”

“That's probably not necessary,” Austin smirked. “It's a matter of getting your head in the right place.”

Passed out beside Austin, Nunu started softly snoring.  

Thank you! :D

This concludes the newsletter. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed your experiences of these 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