Hello readers :) I am off on a bit of a holiday! Not entirely sure when I will return, but here’s a few spanky resources to keep you entertained in the meantime:
Free Spanking Stories (A site with a collection of free spanking stories of various genres.)
The Tea Room (A MASSIVE resource for M/M and F/F free spanking stories.)
Blushing Books (A publisher dedicated to publishing romantic spanking fiction – keep an eye out for the free e-books out monthly!)
How to explain this. Okay. Here goes. It was raining. It was raining. All. Day. So I was inside and looking for something to do. I browsed the spankysphere and saw that Devlin had put up a new and very squirmy audio clip from his Bedtime Stories book. It was awesome, but it was over too soon. So I took some of the best bits and remixed them with a drum and bass song to make possibly the first Spanky Drum N’ Bass ever. It’s not perfect because I have about as much business doing this sort of thing as I do re-tiling your roof or taking out your appendix – but it does exist and you can listen to it.
Click here to listen to the Devlin O’Neill Marcus Intalex Remix
(Credit for, you know, the whole song apart from the ‘spanking your bottom all the way to the sink’ etc goes to Marcus Intalex)
Sometimes a brat doesn’t need a spanking. Sometimes a brat just needs to be indulged. Sometimes a look is all it takes. A light touch. A word of warning. A lowered voice. Sometimes a little attention can cut a lot of misbehavior off at the pass.
Of course sometimes indulgence will be mistaken for weakness. That is a brat’s error to make. If it leads to flailing legs whilst a red bottom is warmed to an even brighter hue, so be it.
A Top’s appeal isn’t only in how stern and strict they can be. It does not lie solely in their willingness to peel down panties and paint the flesh beneath with several coats of discipline. A Top’s appeal often lies in something more quiet, the solidness of their presence. There must be time for gentle touches, soft words, approving glances. Those are the things that lighten the heart and soothe the soul. Those are the elements that make the spanking not only bearable, but necessary and good.
If a brat can be as content on the knee as over it, all is well.
It has recently occured to me that tops and bottoms are roles, not personality types. This might seem to be either a) an obvious statement of fact or b) untrue, but I’m pretty sure it is true.
A Top needs to have certain qualities of course, but for the most part what makes a Top a Top is their actions. It’s an active state. Bottoming is too really. And though some people are very firmly set in their orientation there are those of us who float between being one, the other, neither or both depending on mood. (more…)
This haiku was written by the one, the only, sparrow. (Not to be confused with Captain Jack Sparrow. Probably.) It was too good to leave languishing in the comments so I purloined it and put it here.
Palm stikes cheeks. Sorrow.
Heart breaks. Shame makes heart hollow.
Must be forgiven.
Isn’t that brilliant?
Why not compose your own! Remember it’s 5, 7, 5 syllables to a line.
Here’s an attempt at a toppy spanking haiku from yours truly:
Brat over my lap.
Why the wailing, crying out?
Have not begun yet.
A little note to let those readers who subscribe to Sp. Romance for my novellas know that I’m taking a break for a couple of months. I’ve written something like twelve novellas for the site in the last year or so (plus a twenty chapter, 80,000 word series on Bethany’s Woodshed) and it’s time to take a break for a bit and clear my head with some other projects. Yes, there will still be new works available in the coming weeks, but not on Sp. Romance and probably not according to the same schedule or in the same M/F romantic genre necessarily. I have a few projects on the burners at the moment, including the Western Zombie Spanking novel/la that I already made the cover for because if there’s anything I love doing, it’s making covers.
I’ve been foaming at the mouth for months now because every time my spanking romance books are classified, they’re invariably classified as ‘erotica’. My objection to this was that aside from the spankings, there was often nothing particularly explicit about them. They were no more racy than any other romance, or so I thought.
Then Abel Jenkins posted this blog asking how open one should be about their spanking proclivities and I found myself replying:
Outside the bonds of close and candid friendship, telling people one is into spanking is about as appropriate as telling people that one is into anal play, or figging – it’s too intimate a detail to be appropriate for common conversation.
And then it hit me.
The reason why most consider any book, romance or not, with adult spanking in it to be erotica is because it involves a very specific type of sexual activity.
Spanking is erotic.
Duh.
This escaped me for a long time because that’s not primarily how I think about spanking, certainly not in stories anyway. In the books I write, I see the spanking that goes on between characters as a fundamental of their relationship. It’s not just a hot kinky activity, its the field upon which they play. It’s not really about the spanking. It’s about the dynamic that has to be there for one person to consider themselves to be in a position to take the other over their lap and slap their bottom soundly. You could take the actual spankings out of most of what I write and they would still be books about power play, domination and submission. I’m sure a certain something would be lost for those who really are looking for spanking erotica, but for those who simply seek tales of a certain dynamic, I wonder if it would matter at all.
One of the more popular books I’ve written, Finn the Devourer is the tale of a bratty little vampire who turns out to be more than anyone imagined she could be. In the upcoming novella, working title ‘The Devourer Returns’ (which will probably change,) Finn is at the height of her powers as Domina of the Devourers. However as the old adage goes, power corrupts, and Finn is not immune. In an effort to save the Devourers, Finn, and the general populace Leo steps in. He forces Finn to step down as Domina, but she’s not going without a fight.
A little excerpt from the work in progress:
He looked at me, his handsome features weighted with sadness. “Finn, you need to step down for a time and rediscover what it was that made you Domina in the first place. You’re not serving the Devourers and you’re not serving yourself.”
It would have been less painful if he’d taken a knife and stabbed me with it. Leo was my mainstay, my port in the storm – but now he was the storm and I had no port. I scrambled backwards away from him, crossing my arms over my body in a motion of self protection. Trying to hide the emotions surging through me, I nodded blankly at him.
“I know you’re not going to like this, but it is necessary.”
He was patronizing me even more than usual and it incensed me. “Don’t fucking tell me what is and what is not necessary, you damn traitor,” I spat.
“No.” Leo intoned the word heavily. At first I thought he was disagreeing with me, then I realized he was marking the end of his patience with that solemn and final word.
He moved towards me slowly. Leo was capable of moving so fast that even to me, he was a blur. But he rarely used that speed. He slid towards me slowly, his eyes dark. It was far more intimidating than it would have been if he had merely grabbed me up as I knew he was capable of doing.
“Don’t touch me!” I hated the way my voice broke with a crackle of fear. Leo would never harm me, but he’d sure hurt me if I got too far out of line.
“Turn over and present yourself,” he said softly.
“Leo, no.” Pleading.
“Turn over.” He swirled a finger at me.
With a sense of deep hopelessness and dread, I did as he bade me, switching over to my hands and knees. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable strike. It came swift and hard, one brutally hard swat that sent me skidding forward towards the wall, my bottom flaring with pain.
I shrieked and burst into tears of shame, crumbling into the bed. I’d known once what it was to be weak, but it had been a long time since I’d truly been subject to harsh discipline and the sharp reminder shocked me.
Bundled swiftly into Leo’s arms, I curled up, hiding myself away from him. I didn’t want his comfort, even though his warmth surrounded me and was already leeching away the pain. “Don’t fight me, Finn,” Leo murmured against my hair. “Please don’t fight me.”
Most of the time we regard ghosts as terrifying entities who have for reasons best known to themselves, dedicated their great eternal afterlives to appearing as smudges in badly taken photographs, going bump in the night, leaving vague hissing messages in the background of 80′s tape recordings and communing with twats who believe that hats dampen their psychic energy.
Most of us fear ghosts of course, on account of the fact that they’re scary. It’s a circular sort of reasoning actually, ghosts are scary on account of the fact that they’re ghosts and ghosts are scary.
But what if ghosts could spank?
Mr Dave of Cherry Red Report has courageously tackled this issue in poster form, and I once wrote a story along these lines called The Unspankable Brat, also featured on the Cherry Red Report.
She has been spanked to tears. Her eyes glisten as they break the banks of her eyelashes and course down her cheeks, her face contorted as her lips part wide, her will temporarily broken by the stern forces applied directly to her bright red bottom.
She cries because she can no longer contain herself. She can no longer control her response to the disciplinary pain. But her tears are not her own. Her tears are mine too. I have coaxed them forth and to me they are precious. They call on an ancient predatory instinct that demands total domination and just for a little while, we let that old shadow stalk around us, we dance with the darkness that lies within us both, a shadow thrown by the flickering flame of trust.
I can make her cry. I can make her shriek. I can slap those bouncing cheeks until her wailing echoes off the walls. Her tears are a sign of physical submission that runs below the skin. She has given herself up and her flesh is willing and pliant. It reddens for me. It weeps for me. Even her breath catches between each stroke as her body forgets itself and follows my bidding.
The barrier between us grows ever thinner, with each and every tear drop we draw closer, I in her, she in me.
Turns out that if you tease a Mr Metal enough, he’ll get spank happy with whatever ‘future ready’ implements come to hand. As stubby metallic cylinders go, this is surprisingly stingy. (Future ready protection for tops faced with stunning verbal alacrity that leaves them speechless, but not handless.)
I’ve been quiet of late, by my standards anyway and some might think that’s because I was raptured, which I would understand because I would be a total catch for any deity into rapturing, but it’s really because I’ve been writing a great deal. In the last month I’ve had two novellas published on Spanking Romance, including the sequel to Orphan Ivy. Also, an extended series has started on Bethany’s Woodshed, called Military Discipline. No matter your opinion or affiliation it’s hard to deny that men in uniform are hot, especially stern ones with chiseled jaws and hard hands. I’ll be posting a link to a free chapter of that in the next few days, but in the meantime you can check out the free first chapters of Orphan Ivy Book Two and Captive Bride, the tale of a scholar who gets herself into some serious trouble sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.
Orphan Ivy, Book Two
In the sequel to Orphan Ivy, an increasingly spoiled and petulant Ivy pushes every boundary she lays eyes on, attracting the punitive attentions of the clan at large. As Jon struggles to deal with her ongoing destructive rebellion Ivy must learn to behave herself before she destroys that which is most precious of all, her relationship with the only man she’s ever loved.
Captive Bride
When frustrated scholar Katherine Weaver takes a walk in the countryside and happens upon what she thinks is a friendly gathering of gypsies, she gets a great deal more than she bargained for. Notorious outlaw Idric takes an instant fancy to the naive young woman who firmly believes that all problems can be solved with logic and seems utterly unaware of anything below her neckline – or the effect it has on the opposite sex. Katherine is a young woman who desperately needs to be taken in hand before she hurts herself, and he’s just the man to do it.
This is my favorite song to write to at the moment. Yes, I know Barry White did it first, but Barry did not have the bad ass bass line.
Want something else bad ass? MarQue of the capitalized Q did an interview with Dave of the Cherry Red. It is super.
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