The first newsletter of the year has just gone out, packed with newslettery goodness! The newsletter is a bit of a behind the scenes look at some of my latest books, contains exclusive excerpts and other such things.
If you’re not subscribed to receive it, you can do so here, there’s even a free ebook in it for you, a fun little college spanking story!
“You will speak respectfully,” Milo lectured as Ragnar thrashed her. “You will mind your tongue and you will accept that there are consequences for disobedience. You are ours, princess, and we have expectations that will be enforced in ways you will not enjoy.”
It was rather a redundant statement, given that her bottom was being soundly and relentlessly belabored with her own footwear by a barbarian more than twice her size.
“Naughty girl,” Ragnar added, standing erect to survey the results of his handiwork. Elizabeth didn’t know what her bottom looked like, but it felt hot and swollen and she could feel the sting somehow still singing on even though Ragnar had put the slipper down—and picked up the belt.
“No!” she squealed. “Not the belt!”
Ragnar doubled it over, snapping the leather against itself with a loud crack that made her cringe. His dark eyes were lit with purpose that would not bend to her pleas. Elizabeth reached back to cover her bottom with both hands and simultaneously squirmed up onto her knees so she could face them.
“This isn’t fair,” she said. “I mean, it’s not, is it?” She looked at the two kings with a desperation in her eyes that did not do a thing to dissuade them. “What are you punishing me for? What did I do that was so wrong? I went to the market, I returned…”
“Bend over and present your bottom,” Ragnar snapped.
She focused the entire intensity of her dismay upon him, her green eyes filling with tears. “Please… Ragnar… I have done all you asked of me.”
“You have fought us from the moment we walked in here,” Ragnar said mercilessly. “Bend over, princess.”
“Very well,” she said with a deep sigh. “I have no choice.”
She hoped her feigned obedience would earn her some mercy as she turned around and bent over so that her bottom was high and her head was low.
The first crack of the belt against her bottom took her breath away. Ragnar wielded the thing with what felt like the full force of his arm and to Elizabeth’s senses it was as if cannon fire had burst across her cheeks in a blazing salvo that made a cry burst forth from her lips.
He laid several more like it across her cheeks, striping from the top of her quivering bottom to the top of her thighs. She lost the ability to retain position within a stroke or two and thereafter simply writhed upon the bed, her legs scissoring and flailing in a futile attempt to discharge some of the heat and sting.
By the time Ragnar was done with her, her hips were dancing in desperate fashion, her pussy grinding against the bedding, not out of any arousal she was aware of, but out of necessity. The only way to escape the belt was to move away from it. The only way to move away from it was to press her squirming body against the bed.
“She’s wet,” Ragnar declared suddenly, tossing the belt to the side.
“Soaking,” Milo agreed.
After her homeland is conquered by two powerful kings, eighteen-year-old Princess Elizabeth of Ammerdale finds herself taken captive in her own castle. Rather than fight over her, the two rulers decide to form an alliance and claim Elizabeth as their shared bride, but they quickly discover that the beautiful maiden will need to be tamed.
Though they have little else in common, the sophisticated Milo Lionheart and the fierce warrior Ragnar are united by their willingness to strip Elizabeth bare and spank her soundly as often as necessary to teach her obedience. Despite her blushing protests, the stern dominance of her handsome husbands arouses the young princess deeply, and soon she is begging for more as their masterful lovemaking brings her to one shattering climax after another.
Not everyone in Ammerdale is happy with the match, however, and when a treacherous foe seeks to seize the throne for himself it puts the growing bond between Elizabeth, Milo, and Ragnar to the test. Will the two kings stand together to protect their realm and their woman?
“I’m not from here,” she said in an attempt to invoke some kind of cultural immunity. “So I, uh, didn’t know that I could… that this would…”
“You thought you’d get away with it,” he said, his lips twisting in a dark smirk. “That’s not any reason to let you.”
His hand closed a little around her wrist, spurring Hannah into immediate, panicked action. She squirmed out of his grasp and dived away from him, every part of her body exposed to his eyes as she flailed across the bed and tried to make an escape. It did not work. If anything, she played directly into his hands, the towel falling away to leave her completely naked.
He leaned over, wrapped his strong arm around her waist and pulled her back over his thighs in one smooth motion that was not at all impeded by her wriggling and complaining.
As Hannah found herself face down against the coverlet, all she could think was that this was yet another embarrassment and indignity to add to the many she had suffered since arriving in Darkwood. She could almost have resigned herself to it, if not for the promise of pain that accompanied the undignified position.
“I don’t know what cultural significance this has for you,” she said in an attempt to be understanding, “but this wouldn’t be appropriate where I’m from.”
“Would getting blind drunk be appropriate?” Lorcan smoothed his large masculine palm over the bare curve of her bottom, and suddenly Hannah forgot all about her reservations. His touch sent a tingle racing through the very core of her, reigniting the excitement from the bath and making her forget her regrets almost immediately.
“Maybe not,” she admitted as her hips made involuntary squirming motions. Thus far Lorcan had not seemed to view her as a sexual creature. Even when naked in the bath his looks had not held a great deal in the way of observable ardor, but now Hannah was sure she could sense something between them. She was not sure of that though. In matters of love, she was something of a novice. She had never been with a man before. She’d never had to bathe herself in front of a man before either, and she’d certainly never been spanked by one.
Lorcan’s palm lifted away for a moment, then returned with a hard swat that sent a shock through her body. Hannah let out a squeal more of surprise than of pain.
“Spankings tend to,” Lorcan replied dryly.
“No, I mean, it hurts,” she whimpered. “Why would you want to hurt me?”
She sounded pitiful even to her own ears, and hoped that it would work to change his mind. Lorcan was a big man with big hands and a powerful arm. If he’d wanted to he could have smacked her bottom a lot harder than he had, but the sting she was already experiencing was more than enough.
“I don’t want to hurt you, brat,” he rumbled in his deep refined tones. “I want to teach you a lesson you’ll remember.”
A rough laugh went up among the crowd. Thanks to a torch held by the slaver, casting a circle of light beyond which darkness fell thick, Aisling could not see beyond the first row of men, but she sensed there were many dozens of people waiting to purchase female flesh.
“The bidding starts at a hundred gold pieces, which will earn you not just the virginity of Claddaugh’s only princess, but her father’s ire—and claim to his kingdom should you sire a son.”
A nasty, carnal roar emerged from the bidders.
“She’s a pretty one, nicely submissive, not inclined to give you trouble.” The slaver turned her about, lifted what remained of her skirts and exposed her behind to the crowd. “A pretty rump to boot,” he said, slapping her as if she were a filly at market. Aisling squeaked and the crowd rumbled with predatory glee like a pack of wolves waiting for her tender flesh.
“A hundred gold pieces!” A rough voice called out.
“Two hundred!” Another male voice sounded in the darkness.
The bidding was fast and furious, but it came to an abrupt end when a voice that had not spoken before rang out with a clear baritone.
The crowd fell silent. Aisling saw the slaver’s eyes glitter with greed.
“Sold!” he cried out. “Sold to Chief Rikiar Ravenblack!”
Grumbling with jealousy, the crowd parted to allow a strange party of men through. They were all tall and broad with long dark braided hair and flashing eyes, save for one whose hair was red. Each of their faces was daubed blue and gold and they wore animal hides and furs instead of cloth, which to Aisling’s tired, hysterical gaze made them seem more like beasts than men.
Aisling shrank away from them in fear, but the slaver cut his lash against her thigh and drove her forward into the arms of her new owners…
After she is kidnapped by her father’s enemies and sold to the barbarian chief Rikiar, Princess Aisling finds that life as a barbarian’s bride is quite different than the one to which she was previously accustomed. To her dismay, the once pampered princess soon learns that the barbarian chief is not to be trifled with and any disobedience will earn her a sound spanking on her bare bottom.
Her days are certainly less boring than when she was cooped up behind castle walls, and since her warrior husband’s fierce lovemaking is beyond anything the virgin princess ever imagined, her nights are far more exciting as well. Though much is expected of her—she must both satisfy Rikiar’s voracious appetites in the bedroom and train to wield a sword—Aisling perseveres and before long she feels a strength growing in her heart which makes her proud.
But when Aisling’s father demands her return and wages war against Rikiar and his people, she fears for Rikiar’s life. Can she trust her judgment and her courage to protect her newfound people, save her husband, and safeguard their love from those who wish to destroy it?
Tamsan smiled a slow, sexy smile. “I want to get to know you better,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you, but you’re not living up to most of the hype.”
“The way your ranch hands were talking the whole place was supposed to be up in flames by now. You have yourself a wild reputation, missy.”
Anna smiled into her beer. “I was a handful when I was younger. Maybe a few of them knew me then.”
“I’d say they did,” Tamsan said. “They’ve been waiting for you to go off the rails since you got here.”
“Well I’d hate to disappoint them,” Anna said. “What should I do? Dance naked on the table? Set a trash can on fire? Rustle a couple head of cattle?”
“I wouldn’t recommend any of those options,” Tamsan said, a hint of sternness sneaking back into her tone. “You can have fun without being a hot mess.”
“What are your suggestions then?”
Tamsan beckoned Anna forward and lowered her voice to a sultry drawl. “You could kiss me.”
Anna’s eyes widened. She wanted to kiss Tamsan, but the direct approach left her somewhat on the back foot. Her lips parted once, twice as she tried to find the words. Then it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter because Tamsan had reached forward, hooked her fingers inside Anna’s shirt and drawn her forward into a warm, soft kiss which made Anna’s sense and objections and thoughts melt into a hot honey goo which trickled down her spine and settled in her loins.
Country mouse turned city girl, Anna got out of rural Texas as soon as she was old enough to leave. Like a lot of wide-eyed young lesbians she was drawn by the West coast’s big cities and bustling sapphic community – which was all too happy to welcome her in, chew her up and spit her out.
After a string of failed relationships and the passing of her father, the care of ten thousand acres of Texas ranch just fell to her. Anna’s not much of a cowgirl, in fact she has trouble getting her horse pointed in the right direction. So when her cattle go astray and her horse bolts, she’s more than relieved when the day is saved by a gorgeous tall blonde cowgirl named Tamsan – a woman who knows exactly who Anna is, and exactly how much trouble she can be.
Tamsan is feminine but strong, capable and in control. She likes to be in charge just as much as Anna likes having things her own way. Erotic sparks fly between the two women who quickly become lovers and are then left with the challenge of how to manage both their relationship and the failing ranch.
Beholde, ye of the spanking and romantic persuasions! Finally released as an ebook is my historical spanking romance novel, Taming the Wilde. Set during the days when the Brits got away with transporting their undesireables around the globe, Taming the Wilde follows the fortunes of one Jane Wilde – a spirited and tempestuous young woman who finds herself on the wrong side of the law.
Young Jane Wilde was once a noblewoman, but the coming of a dark plague and winds of ill fortune have led her to the streets of London where she survives on her wits alone, stealing enough food to eat, and fencing enough pretty jewelry to keep a roof over her head.
Unfortunately for the once Lady Wilde, the British empire is still in an expansive state and intends to settle the far off Australian continent not only as a penal colony, but as a lawful outpost of the empire. To that end they need women to sate the lusts of the criminal men already languishing in that desolate place. When Jane is caught stealing bread and put before a judge, her sentence is inevitable: deportation.
Once aboard the transportation ship Jane catches the eye of Master Roake, the man charged with overseeing discipline. Jane thinks him cruel and harsh, but her fear does not quell her natural defiance. Indeed, her rebellious nature sets her across his path many times – and equally many times across his knee.
Jane’s proud nature cannot bring her to submit to the man who wields leather as naturally as he breathes. As for Master Roake, he is not a man given easily to sentiment, nor his he accustomed to finding true ladies on his ship and under his lash. And yet, each time they meet in a clash of wills and reddened flesh, a fondness grows.
Soon they will make land. Jane will be forced to serve her sentence in one of the female factories and Master Roake will once more set sail for England. Love is no match for the mighty British Empire.