Brent: Truthfully? I’m pretty steamed. I can’t believe my wife pulled a stunt this like this!
Cara Bristol: Like what?
Brent: Running off. It’s our anniversary. It’s hard to surprise her, so when she hinted she wanted to take a luxury vacation for our anniversary, I pretended I had to work—and then I secretly booked the vacation she wanted. But then she got pissed and ran away! She left a casserole and a note on the fridge that said she was going to take the vacation without me! I had the trip booked, the tickets were in my briefcase, and our bags were packed and in the trunk of my car.
Cara Bristol: What are you going to do now?
Brent: I’m going after her, of course. But first I’m going to teach her a little lesson…
An excerpt from Wife on the Lam, Domestic Discipline
What the hell was Janelle wearing? His normally modest wife had paraded about in a tiny bra and butt floss! She didn’t own a suit like that. He knew because he’d packed both of them. They were in her bag in his tiny room with the garden view. She may not have noticed the men checking her out, but he did.
Hotter than a sunny, humid day in paradise, the scrap of nothing was more appropriate for a private show than a public one. He could envision spanking her in it.
He grinned. Now, that was an idea.
From behind a beach umbrella rental cabana, he watched her splash in the water. She squealed when a small wave crashed over her, and she popped up laughing, wiping her face. He loved her enjoyment of the moment, such a contrast to her forlorn expression in the restaurant where she’d had lunch. He’d almost caved and revealed himself then, but she needed to learn that she couldn’t run off half-cocked because she assumed he’d neglected her.
Didn’t she trust him? He’d never missed an anniversary.
He loved Janelle’s spontaneity. She brought sparkle to his life where otherwise it would have been bland and colorless. She inspired him, brought out his lighter side. He stroked the hair alongside his mouth. Look at the get-up she’d gotten him to wear.
On the flip side, she sometimes acted without considering the ramifications, and this latest stunt counted as the biggest. She so deserved a good, hard spanking.
He’d allow her a few minutes more before he hauled her out of the water. If she didn’t take care, her pretty, naked ass would be burned by more than the palm of his hand. He glanced at the sun, still high in the sky. She hadn’t applied any sunscreen that he’d noticed. Perhaps she’d put it on in the room, but maybe not.
Janelle stood and squeezed the water out of her hair, then sashayed to her lounger. Beaded nipples poked through the fabric of two tiny triangles that comprised the bikini top. A third tiny remnant pretended to cover her lady parts. The entire suit consisted of fabric scraps connected by strings. And on his forty-four-year-old wife and mother of his two college-aged children, it was sexy as all get-out. He glanced down at himself. Thank goodness for baggy shorts.
She reached her chaise and patted her face with her towel, turning her back to him, giving him a view of her pert, sexy ass. Yep, a spanking in that suit was definitely in order, and the fact that she wouldn’t be able to wear it in public afterwards counted as a bonus.
He expected her to shove her towel in her ginormous beach bag, but after drying herself, she flopped onto her stomach. Little fool! Didn’t she have any sense?
Brent dug his wallet from his back pocket. “How much are the beach umbrellas?” he asked the resort staff member manning the booth.
“They’re complimentary to guests of the Cabana Resort, sir.”
“Thank you.” Brent grabbed a pink one — the color her ass would be when he finished with her — slapped his Stetson on his head and tromped toward his wife.
Domestic Discipline Blurb:
Love, desire, domination, and submission. Two domestic discipline romances by USA Today bestselling author Cara Bristol in one volume.
Wife on the Lam
Janelle wants to take a luxury vacation for her wedding anniversary. Despite numerous hints, husband Brent misses all the clues and plans a business trip! Miffed, she flies off alone to a luxury resort. She’s going to celebrate—with or without him.
Brent didn’t have to work. He’d planned a second honeymoon to the luxury Cabana Resort. Janelle might have ruined his surprise, but he’s not going to let her ruin their anniversary, too. He has a little trick up his sleeve to take his errant wife in hand and get their marriage back on track.
Before her military husband left for his tour of duty, Cadence Simmons relied on Rahm’s love, direction, and protection. His absence forced her to become more independent and make decisions for herself. After serving his country, he’s home for good and eager to resume their marriage as it was before. Only Cadence isn’t quite sure she wants things exactly as they were. Can domestic discipline guide this couple through some major changes?
USA Today bestselling author Cara Bristol writes “nice and naughty” stories of love, romance, and humor featuring strong alpha heroes. She is a no. 1 bestseller in BDSM erotica, science fiction romance, and holiday fiction on Amazon. She is best known for her Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline series and her Breeder D/s sci-fi romance series. She lives in Missouri with her own alpha hero, her husband.
Connect with Cara
Please enjoy this free spanking story section from Renee Rose’s newest medieval spanking romance Held for Ransom…
650 AD England
In retrospect, she should have known. She had seen no fewer than four crows that day, a sure sign from the Goddess.
And yet, nothing penetrated her dulled outlook. Sitting on the dais next to her brother, the king, she watched the tournament with little interest. A grand affair, it brought men from several kingdoms to sparcompete. The prize: a hefty bag of gold. The purpose: entertaining idle troops.
The men competed in battles of strength, heaving rocks the size of boulders. They tested their aim in archery. They raced by foot and by horse. She hardly noticed the winners, though the ladies-in-waiting were all a-twitter over a certain contestant who had won every match.
In the two months since her abduction and rescue, she had lived as if underwater–everything muted, far away. Her emotions numbed, nothing and no one interested her.
The crowd roared and her brother Broderick stood. “The champion of the tournament! Come forward for your prize!”
She watched as a large, broad-shouldered man strode to the dais and ascended the stairs to the platform.
“What is your name?” Broderick asked, his voice jovial.
The deep sound of the contestant’s answer caused her head to jerk up in shock. The sound had haunted her sleepless nights since the day of her rescue. His eyes lifted at the same moment as hers and their gazes locked. Her breath stilled as she rose to her feet. There could be no doubt–even without the mask and beard, the scar where she had stabbed him marked his face.
Broderick heard her gasp of recognition and whirled, drawing his sword, but Crow–Gorran–had already turned, leaping the side rail to drop ten feet to the ground, running for his life.
“Stop him!” Broderick bellowed, dashing down the stairs. “But bring him back alive–his head is mine!”
She rushed for the rail, leaning over to watch the chase. Crow shoved through the throng, but as her brother’s words registered, the crowd tightened, soldiers drawing swords and challenging the fugitive.
Unarmed as a requisite of the competition, he still held his own against a dozen men for what seemed
like ages, though probably no more than a few moments. In the end, he went down, and when he stood, it was in surrender. He gave no fight as they marched him back to the dais. Broderick returned, standing beside her.
“Are you well?”
She nodded, though she could not speak.
The soldiers escorted their prisoner to the platform, where he dropped to his knees and lowered his head, offering his neck in surrender.
“So, you are the mighty Crow,” Broderick said, laying his sword blade along the prisoner’s nape.
She should not have flinched, but she did. Broderick flicked his glance to her, acknowledging her reaction. The twins kept very few secrets, especially in a family long-rumored to have the blood of the fey.
“They say you cannot be killed, but I do not think it is true. Shall we find out today?”
Crow said nothing. She held her breath, trembling.
Broderick lifted his eyes to her. “Ariana?”
Sweat dripped down her ribs. “No,” she whispered, shocked but grateful he asked her.
“He still has a role to play. He is a piece of the puzzle.”
“My puzzle or yours?”
She shook her head. “I cannot see.”
“Then it must be yours.” He raised his voice, stepping back from the prisoner. “Take him to the dungeons.”
Two months earlier
The moon was nearly full, beckoning her out to the lake to gaze in the water. Every hair stood on end, a sure sign of the presence of spirits. She sensed they had something to tell her, would show something in the reflecting pool, or speak to her on the wind.
She stood at the water’s edge, watching as the images swirled, waiting for them to still into something recognizable. As a high priestess of Avalon, she received messages from the Goddess, the devic realm, and spirits willing to guide England and its king, because her brother understood he served for the good of his people and the honor of the Goddess. She expected a message for her brother–usually when spirit called it was for him, though sometimes it concerned the maintenance and peace at Avalon–changes they needed to make for the good of all or work required to bring harmony to the land for abundant crop yields.
Yet tonight nothing appeared in the swirling images. Still, her nape prickled.the hairs stood on the nape of her neck.
A hand clamped over her mouth and a huge arm snaked around her waist.
She screamed and tried to bite into the flesh of the hand over her mouth, but the hold was far too firm for her to even open her jaw.
“Easy, your highness. I mean you no harm, but I must take you with me for a short time. I beg you not to struggle, as I have no wish to injure you.”
She felt no blade at her throat, but her captor’s voice held every confidence she would do as he commanded. He lifted her feet off the ground, carrying her easily, as if she were no more than a child. She
reached out to the Goddess for guidance and felt no answer.
His long strides conveyed her to a waiting barge where he set her down and covered her head with a burlap sack.
She struggled against his hold. Panicking, she bucked against him, twisting and turning to free herself, tossing her head to rid the covering.
“Shh. Easy, Princess. I cannot have you seeing where I take you, though I know you may know well enough with your second sight. The sack stays on.”
He pulled her wrists together behind her and she felt the rough fiber of a rope wind around them.
“Ouch! You are hurting me,” she protested.
“I regret it, my lady.”
He may have sounded regretful, but he did nothing to ease the pain. He pushed her to sit and she sensed the barge moving swiftly through the water, crossing the lake to shore. He lifted her off the float and his huge hands gripped her waist, tossing her into a saddle. His body arrived behind hers just seconds later and she felt his arms around her taking hold of the reins. He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue and the horse moved, its steps seeming as silent as her captor’s had been.
She paid attention to the route, listening for clues and trying to sense their direction. She followed it for a time, but became muddled–not hearing water when she thought they should be nearing the river. Where was he taking her? And what did he want? Clearly he knew who she was–it was not a random capture of a maiden or priestess. He had called her Princess.
“What do you want with me?”
“Do not speak.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He answered her with silence.
She twisted her neck, trying to catch hold of the sack over her head with her teeth so she might get it off. Her captor pulled it down more snugly around her neck.
“The hood stays on until we reach our destination.”
Something about the sack and riding in the darkness to an unknown destination distorted her perception. She thought she had entered spirit world and cast about to feel for helpers, but sensed none.
Please help me, she begged the Goddess.
You are safe, came the answer, as reassuring as it was maddening.
Safe? With this man? How could she be safe?
Yet, she trusted, as she always relied on the guidance she received. The Avalon priestesses had taught them not to doubt spirit, else it stop speaking.
“Who are you?”
Again, he answered her with silence.
They rode a long time, though she could not be sure he did not just ride in circles to confuse her. In truth, she had given up all attempts at tracking their whereabouts. If she learned their location, it would be through her second sight, as he said.
At last they stopped. She felt him dismounting and lunged off the horse in the opposite direction, throwing her head forward to get her leg to the other side of the animal.
He caught her by the calf, spilling her headlong over the side of the stallion. Giving a low curse he grabbed the worsted wool of her dress, yanking her back upright, then over the side in his direction to fall into his arms. The sack had toppled from her head when she was upside down and she blinked to adjust to seeing again.
“What was your plan, exactly, highness? To land on your head and, if you were lucky enough, to run from me? How many paces do you think it would take for me to catch you?”
She looked up at him. He wore a mask over his eyes with holes cut in the fabric to see. His light brown hair fell to the top of his broad shoulders.
She shrugged. “I do not know.”
“I admire your courage, but your attempt lacked logic.”
His critique of her escape irritated her and she drew her foot back and kicked him, not gaining even the smallest reaction, and sending a shard of pain through her toes and into her foot.
He took her arm, leading her to a small cottage. They were in the thick of a wood. The moonlight barely filtered through the treetops to light the way. She smelled wood smoke, as if someone awaited them.
He opened the door where two Saxon warriors stood, hands on the hilts of their swords. They smiled when they saw her, and spoke to him in their language. He answered in the same guttural speech, urging her forward and closing the door behind her.
“Come,” he said, leading her past the main room and hearth, into the sleeping quarters, where a single pallet lay on the floor. “Give me something to prove I have you–a piece of jewelry.”
She shook her head. “I do not adorn myself.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “A ring? Anything your brother might recognize as yours.”
“No. I have nothing. When I am at Avalon, I am as any of the priestesses.”
He rubbed his mask, blowing out his breath. He turned her around, loosening the knotted rope around her wrists.
“I assure you, I speak the truth.”
“I believe you, highness. Which leaves me with no choice but to send the dress you are wearing.”
It took several seconds for her to comprehend his words. “What?” she gasped.
“Forgive me, but if you have nothing else, it is my only choice.”
The ropes came loose from her wrists and she pulled away from him, stumbling forward. “No.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Remember what I told you at Avalon? It is not my wish to harm you, but if you resist me, you may be accidentally injured. I do not wish to wrestle you out of that dress. Take it off and hand it to me.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Find me something else to wear.”
He cast his gaze about the room and seeing nothing, shrugged, pulling off his tunic. “Here,” he offered it. “Now give me the dress.”
She took the tunic, doubtful at how much of her it would cover much. Turning her back on him, she pulled off her dress, grateful for the chemise she wore underneath, thin though it was. She tugged his huge tunic over her head, turning and tossing the dress at him, unwilling to simply hand it over.
He caught it easily, and beckoned her forward. When she did not come, he closed the distance between them with surprising swiftness, capturing her two hands and holding her wrists together. He paused when he saw the angry red marks on her skin. He glanced at her face, then dropped his eyes to the marks, rubbing at them with his thumb.
“The rope is rough for such delicate skin,” he muttered. He reached his hand to his belt where he carried a seax–the small Saxon daggers the people were named for–and used it to sever a length of fabric from the bottom of his undershirt. He used the fabric to bind her wrists instead, testing it by twisting her hands in various directions.
“You are hurting me,” she complained.
“Forgive me. I am only trying to keep you from further discomfort from the rope.”
His words held logic, she admitted grudgingly.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “Do not make another foolish attempt at escape,” he said, taking her dress and walking out of the room, leaving the door to the front room open. He spoke to the Saxons, then walked out of the cottage.
She stood in the doorway between the two rooms, shivering at his leaving. As frightened as she was, she found something reassuring about the man, and considering the message she received from the Goddess, she had to believe he spoke the truth when he said he did not wish to harm her. The way the Saxons eyed her now, though, made her question whether they felt the same.
They spoke to each other, chuckling, and both rose to walk in her direction. She backed into the sleeping quarters, looking for an exit, but it held no window or door.
They spoke to her in their language, seeming to demand a reply, a leering menace in their manner. She held up her bound hands, palms out. “I do not know what you want,” she said. “I do not understand you.”
One of them grabbed her, pushing her down on the pallet so she landed on her bottom. He crawled over her and thrust her torso back. Her captor’s tunic only reached her mid-thigh, and it rode up to her waist now, taking the chemise with it and revealing her bare sex. She snapped her knees together, but the Saxon shoved them apart, his strength overpowering her. He grasped the tunic and the hem of her chemise and yanked them both up to her armpits, baring her for their view.
She screamed, squirming to free herself, panic cresting.
At Avalon she had learned love conquers all; and when in danger, one should simply project it toward the aggressor, be it a wild boar, wolf, serpent, or man. Yet she projected nothing but terror now, and could only believe it was the stronger of the two emotions, paralyzing her so she lay vulnerable to the excited men waiting to have her. She squeezed her eyes shut, screaming.
By Woden. The sound of the Princess’s screams sent him flying back in the cottage. He had only left to send young Elric to carry the dress to King Broderick. A plague on Alwin and Denby if they laid one hand on the priestess.
He slammed open the door just in time to see Alwin pulling his cock out, ready to thrust it into her. Fury caused a rushing sound in his ears as he leaped forward. He yanked Alwin back so hard the man flew into the wall and toppled a chair.
“What in Saxnot’s name do you think you are doing?” he demanded in the Saxon tongue.
Alwin shrugged, looking sheepish as he shoved his cock back in his hose.
“I am holding her for ransom,” he explained, speaking slowly as if they were both thick. “That means, if I wish for our prisoners to be freed, no harm–no harm–can come to her. On top of that, she is a high priestess. How do you think Freya would take to the defiling of one of her priestesses?”
“She does not worship Freya,” Denby mumbled sullenly.
“Her Goddess may have a different name but she’s Freya, just the same. You do not molest those who serve the gods.”
“What are you doing, then?”
“I am risking the vengeance of the Goddess and king because my sister is missing. But I will not be trying to shove my cock in the captive like a rutting goat. Now, you two stay in the front room. Do not speak to her. Do not look at her. You guard the cabin and keep watch. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they both mumbled, slinking out of the room.
He shut the door behind them, still angry. He said nothing for a moment, picking up the chair that had
fallen when he had thrown Alwin backward. He considered his prisoner. She stood on the pallet, her back pressed against the wall, her expression terrorized. He crossed to her and held out his hand. She blinked a moment before placing her delicate bound hands over his, accepting his help to step down from her bed, her pale face tight.
“I am very sorry. I assure you that will not happen again.”
“If you expect my thanks for the rescue, you will not receive it.” She withdrew her trembling fingers and paced away, standing with her back to him.
“No,” he said. “I do not expect thanks for doing what I pledged to you when we met.”
“Met. Interesting choice of words.”
He walked behind her, wanting to offer some form of comfort, but doubting she would accept it. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I am…” She blew out her breath. “I am ashamed I lost my senses with fear. I should know the Goddess would not keep me a maid for twenty-six years only to give my virginity to a Saxon pig.”
He stiffened at her prejudice against Saxons and she seemed to sense it, because she whirled to study him, her expression intelligent.
“Why am I here? What do you want with me?” Small though she was, she had every bit of presence as both royalty and high priestess. He sensed her power, the way she looked at him as if looking into his heart and seeing his very soul, the way she managed her emotions despite her fear. In addition, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen–her features delicate, her hair a mix between blond and red, hanging in a braid that fell below her waist. Serene and serious, she was the embodiment of the Goddess herself. How he wished he might have met her under different circumstances.
“You are still a maid?” he asked to redirect the conversation. Engaging with her about the mission could be dangerous. He did not know the extent of her abilities, but it was said she saw into the future. Mayhap she also read minds. The less he revealed, in conversation or thought, the better his chance of escaping this endeavor with his life.
She played the same game of ignoring questions. “You are holding me for ransom?”
“Who are you?”
“No one of consequence.”
She continued to consider him. “You will not survive.” She said it matter-of-factly, not as a threat.
“Probably not,” he agreed. “But I have walked from death’s blade more times than I can count. Mayhap I will escape death at the king’s hands, too.”
“Why are you doing this?”
His mind flitted to Kendra, the pain of not knowing his young sister’s fate sharp as a blade before he cleared his thoughts so she could not read them. He sank into the chair near the door to guard her for the night.
“My brother will not allow you to live. He may pay the ransom, but he will not rest until he has hunted you down and killed you.”
“I expect no less. Nor would I do differently if you were my sister. Dawn will come soon. Can you rest, highness? I promise no one will molest you as you sleep.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“I will not,” he said. “I will remain here in this chair.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then gave a single nod, walking to the pallet and picking up the blanket, which she attempted to spread over herself with her bound wrists. Seeing her struggle, he walked to her and took it, spreading over her, tucking the edges in around her body as she gazed at him with wide, green eyes.
He extinguished the lamp to conserve oil, though he would have preferred leaving light in the room to be better prepared for any attempted escape. She lay very still for a long time, her breathing never deepening into the sound of slumber.
He knew when she sat up, though she did not make a sound. “There is no way out, highness.” He sensed her irritation.
“I need to use the chamber pot,” she said petulantly.
He stood and took hold of her arms to help her to her feet. Leading her to the corner, he turned her to face the chamber pot. “It is there, in the corner. Do you wish me to light the lantern?”
“I wish you to untie my hands,” she snapped.
“I cannot do so, my lady.”
“I will soil my chemise, as I cannot lift─”
He turned her to face him and lifted the hem of the chemise and his tunic, placing the bundle of them in her bound hands. Holding her beneath the arms, he pushed her backward, so she fell into a squat over the chamber pot. “If you cannot do it yourself, I will help you,” he said, not quite successful at keeping the mock out of his tone.
She gave a huff, but used the chamber pot. When she finished and he lifted her away from it, she dropped the skirts and threw her shoulder into him to give him a shove.
“Mayhap next time you will manage it on your own,” he suggested drily.
“I hope your death is long and painful,” she spat, shoving past him to the pallet.
Held for Ransom
When Sir Gorran’s people disappear after a raid on a Saxon settlement, he kidnaps Princess Ariana, a priestess of Avalon, and demands their return. Though he knew he risked Ariana’s curse as well as a lifetime hiding from the king’s sword, he does not realize his greatest risk in holding the lovely princess for ransom is to his heart.
The intimacy shared with her kidnapper leaves Ariana wounded by the experience and his reappearance at the annual tournament only deepens her pain. When her brother foists him on her as a guardian and slave she must come to terms with her feelings for the dominant warrior. Will she send him away to his death, or will she realize her pain is only caused by living without him?
(c) Renee Rose and Lazy Day Publications
With Hearts Aflame Box Set – Grab this sizzling hot collection of five novellas from some of Blushing Books bestselling contemporary authors. Each of these five books is a brand new story featuring an old-fashioned man and his woman. Almost 130,000 words of reading for a price that’s 50% of the regular price for these books.
We asked the authors:
Maren: Oh wow. I have no clue. I’ve been told I write really great dialogue. lolMaddie-My style: Do I have a style? I guess my style is high dialogue, detail and action, less on the prose scale. I like to explain with dialogue rather than info dumping when at all possible.
Patty: I’m sure most people will agree that my books lack something the others have, sex scenes. I like to include enough tantalizing tidbits to get you in the mood- I mean we are all adults, but I like to keep it clean. I know many people are still interested in books without the heavy sex scenes and language. So, hopeful mine stand out in a good way there and don’t drop the bar.
Dinah: I can speak for everyone else and say if this is different from how they do it, but I know for me personally, I put something very personal in my life in every book. Not an attribute, but an actual kink or conversation.
Since a competing sweet shop opened its doors, things have not gone well for Sinclair’s candy shop, Maybe’s Candy. Business was slowing, her finances were dropping, and no matter what she does she just can’t think of any way to get her business back on top. Even the one highlight of her week—that moment when handsome Parker Johnson, a man she’d been flirting with for over a year, came to buy his usual bag of caramels—even that wasn’t much of a treat. How could it be when Sinclair already knew something was wrong with him? She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was—was he married, gay, a homicidal maniac?—but a guy didn’t show this much interest in a girl without asking her out, at least not without a good reason. And Parker most definitely has not asked her out.
Then, an unexpected ray of good luck: From out of the blue, she’s offered a job. All she has to do is cater a candy party—one day, 900 people, and her store would be financially set all the way through summer. The only catch? The venue is a place called the Castle, a fantasy BDSM resort inhabited by some of the hottest Masters she has ever met. And one of them just happens to be Parker, the same man she’s been drooling over for the last year.
What a coincidence! Or is it? Sinclair always knew there was something wrong with him. What she didn’t know, was how he could make WRONG feel so wonderfully RIGHT.
“Master My Love” by Maddie Taylor
When a mysterious invitation to a new BDSM club arrives in Valerie Thornton’s mailbox, she sees it as a fateful intervention. She has long suppressed her desire for a strong man who can nurture her inner-most desires and bring the submissive inside her to life. Now widowed with an empty nest, she’s alone, unfulfilled and wondering what she’s been missing.
Walking into the most exclusive club in LA all alone, Valerie almost loses her nerve, but the testosterone-filled atmosphere is pure temptation. Each dominant man she sees is sexier and more handsome than the last. When she meets intimidating Eric Dupree, the Master Dom takes her breath away. He seems perfect for her and Val knows he could bring her secret fantasies to life. She’s ready to throw herself at his feet, but refrains. How could he possibly be interested in a forty-year-old BDSM novice like herself?
As managing partner and
Rossi CFO, Eric should be thrilled. Club Decadence LA is successful and Rossi is growing by leaps and bounds. But as he approaches middle age, he finds that he needs more than his career and bachelor lifestyle can give him. In walks Valerie Thornton, an innocent to his world. What has brought her to his club, of all places, and why can’t he get her out of his mind?
Karen Donahue is intimidating, but she has to be. The youngest CEO of a Fortune 500, her job is stress personified. She’s used to being in charge and if she doesn’t always like it, well, it’s part of the job. And if she’s a little bit of a brat, it’s just because she works so hard.
An excuse that is not good enough for Brandon Fuller.
After Karen’s car breaks down, he comes to the rescue only to be chewed out by the fiery, hot-tempered brat. He informs her that he won’t fix her car unless she accepts a spanking for her behavior and having broken her phone during her last tantrum, she has little choice but to accept. What she’s not prepared for is how much she’ll enjoy discovering the pain that often accompanies pleasure.
“Love Potion #9. 1” by Robin Smith
Harper Hicks is a bonafide witch, who has brewed up a bonafide love potion for sale to the normal and not so normal customers at her bookstore. After all, who doesn’t want a little extra heat around Valentine’s Day? And this one is guaranteed to make fantasies come true. What could possibly go wrong?
Charlie gives the cop who pulls her over for speeding and reckless driving the performance of a lifetime, telling him that her mother is in the hospital on the edge of death.
Trooper Vin Loveanu wants nothing more than to pull her out of the vehicle and comfort her, but has to settle for sending flowers to the hospital, only to find out that the mother is not a patient. Further investigation turns up an obituary for Charlene’s mother from four years before!
Charlie’s lies, abominable driving and strong family ties continue to bring the two together. She can’t run away far enough or fast enough and maybe—just maybe she should be running to Vin—not away, even if it meant a trip over his knee.
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Dinah’s Blog- http://
Dinah @ Blushing Books- http://www.
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Maren’s Blog- http://badgirlscorner.
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We have a guest post today from Renee Rose on on her new French Revolution novella Humbled. Here’s the scoop:
Corinne is alternately infuriated and attracted to the handsome peasant who has no qualms about turning her over his knee and spanking her bare bottom when she steps out of line. When he ends up joining her on a ship to New Orleans, their futures become inextricably intertwined, but can a common-born blacksmith and the daughter of a lord find enough common ground to make a permanent match?
In a flash, he slid down the embankment, covering her mouth with his hand to muffle her scream as he yanked her back into the lee of the bank, the back of her dripping body crushed against his front.
The voices had quieted at her cry, as if the men were listening. She stood rigid now, her body trembling against his, the water on her skin dampening his clothes. She tried to turn her head, eyes bulging and frantic, like a filly about to rear. He swiveled her head so she could see it was him and darted his eyes to the bank to indicate the danger. She attempted a nod, and he loosened the hold on her mouth but did not release her.
The men were no more than 15 feet away now. She began to struggle to free herself and he turned her face toward his once more, giving her a severe look. She lifted her chin to point toward the ground about 5 feet away, where her clothing lay in a heap, visible to anyone who looked over.
He gave a sharp shake of his head and yanked her even closer to his body. She seemed to accept his decision, melting against his form as if she wished to disappear. He softened his grip, listening to the voices as they grew louder, though he grew increasingly distracted by the sight of water droplets trailing over the swell of two perky breasts just beneath his eyes. Their breathing synchronized, the beat of his heart hammering into her back, meeting the thunder of hers.
Do not move. Do not touch her other than to keep her safe.
His fingertips did not obey. They began to make miniscule circles on her upper arm, the largest gesture he dared considering their position. He was acutely aware of the fact that she could not protest, nor resist. He could press his advantage if he wished. He did not intend to, though his cock strained in his trousers against her low back. Her skin was impossibly soft, and she smelled fresh after her dip in the stream. The temptation to lick her neck came out of nowhere, but the voices grew louder and he held his breath, stilling to listen.
I’m very happy to be here on Spanking Romance Reviews with my latest release, Claimed by the Beast. A huge thanks to Renee Rose, fellow author and friend.
Today I wanted to share a piece from the book which contains two firsts for Rachel: corner time and a butt plug. Really, two of my favorite things… This is not a punishment scene but more to establish their roles and to put Rachel in a submissive frame of mind for what Marcus has in store for her next…The scene begins from Rachel’s point of view and switches to Marcus’s at the break.
* * * *
“Corner?” she asked, taken aback. He’d never done something like this before. This would definitely be pushing her. When he spanked her, it was different. He was an active participant. But making her stand in the corner with her nose to the wall and her panties pulled down to leave her bottom exposed. “I… Marcus, I don’t think I can do that.”
Marcus rose to his feet, taking her hand in one of his. With the other, he turned her face up to his, his forehead to hers, his nose to hers, his face smiling, hers worried. “You can,” he said, walking her to the corner himself and setting her where he wanted her. “Nose touches here at all times,” he said, encouraging her forward with a hand at the back of her head. “Good girl. Now, one more detail.” With that, he moved a step back and his hands were at the hem of her panties. She covered them with hers.
“Shh… you’re ready for this,” he teased, sliding a hand into her panties and searching for the wetness there. “More than ready. Naughty girl,” he said. “Put your hands at the back of your head now.”
She glanced once over her shoulder, met his gaze as he nodded, and returned her nose to the wall. She then reached her hands up and placed them at the back of her head. He took his time dragging her panties down over her hips, exposing her bottom but leaving the slip of cotton at the tops of her thighs.
“Beautiful,” he said, stepping back. “Don’t let those panties slide down,” he cautioned. “I’ll be right back.”
She listened as he climbed the stairs but was back just a few moments later. She expected him to come to her straight away, to touch her, to be with her, but when she saw him from the corner of her eye go into the kitchen and heard him pour himself a drink, she narrowed her eyes. He walked back into the living room, ignoring her altogether and sitting down on the couch. It took all she had to stay where she was when she heard him turn the TV on.
* * *
Marcus couldn’t care less what was on TV. His cock was hard at the vision Rachel made at the wall, her nose right up against it as he’d positioned her, her hands clasped at the back of her head which he imagined wouldn’t be comfortable for long, her panties down just far enough to expose her gorgeous ass. His hand twitched to spank the fleshy mounds, have them bounce with each one. Next time he’d do a preliminary spanking before setting her in the corner. Her ass should be at least a little pink which would be even prettier than the milky white smoothness.
He eyed the items he’d brought down with him. A butt plug and some lube. The thought of what he was going to do made him want to explode, but he had to be patient. Give her some time in the corner. Get her in the right place. So he sat back and forced himself to take his time and finish his drink. When that was done, he slid the plug and the lubricant into his pocket and walked over to her.
“Is it over?” she asked when she heard him approach.
“Not quite yet,” he said, setting his hands on either side of her hips, looking down at her lush bottom, kissing the back of her neck, her shoulder. “Put your hands up against the wall,” he said, holding onto her and pulling her gently toward him so she had to walk her feet a few steps and lean her torso forward with her hands up on the wall. “Take your feet just a little farther, Rachel. I have a surprise for you.”
She made a small sound but moved her feet. He held the flat of his right hand against one butt cheek, rubbing and caressing there. “Just a few, just for a little color,” he said. He slapped her bottom with that. It wasn’t hard but she grunted and her body went forward, probably more from the surprise of it than actual pain. “Try to hold still,” he said, repositioning her and slapping her other cheek.
“Ouch,” she said, her voice small, but she managed to stay as she was.
He slapped each cheek a few more times, watching them bounce, turning them a nice, warm pink. He then stopped and caressed. She tried to rise up.
“Uh-uh. Not yet,” he said. He took out the lube and opened it. “Hollow out your back and lift your ass.”
She did as he said.
“Good girl. Now reach back and spread your cheeks open for me.”
Her body stiffened a little. “What?”
* * * *
I feel a little guilty to leave you right there but it is a teaser… I hope you enjoyed it. Although this book stands alone, its predecessor, Taken by the Beast is on sale for $2.99 now through New Year’s in celebration of the new release. You can find it by clicking here.
Blurb for Claimed by the Beast
More than a year has passed since Marcus, free at last from his harsh captivity, disappeared to lead a life of solitude. Rachel waits for him, clinging to hope, but her fear grows that the man with whom she shares an unbreakable bond is lost to her forever. Despair leads her to take risks with her life, and Elijah does his best to keep her safe, but he knows that only his brother’s return can truly heal her wounded heart.
Believing that he will only bring her pain and sadness, Marcus has vowed to leave Rachel on her own, telling himself that she will move on and find love and happiness in the arms of some other man. But when the dark shadows of the past engulf his family again and Rachel’s life is put in terrible danger, he is given no choice but to return and take back what is his.
Though overjoyed that Marcus has returned at last, Rachel cannot bring herself to believe that he will truly stay this time, and her doubts push her to defy him even as he fights to protect her. She soon learns, however, that he will tolerate no disobedience when her safety is at stake, and her defiance will be dealt with firmly. As she stands before him, bare and blushing with her well-spanked bottom on display, knowing there is much more to come, Rachel longs for her mate to claim her as his and his alone. But can he shield her from those who would do them harm, or will he be torn away from her yet again?
Publisher’s Note: Claimed by the Beast is the sequel to Taken by the Beast. It is an erotic novel that includes spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes, elements of medical play and BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
It’s Day 5 of the Took My Breath Away Book Blog Tour and I’m excited to be on Spanking Romance Reviews. If you miss any days of the book blog tour, you can find links to them here.
One day my roommate asked what I was writing so furiously and my response was something to the tune of “just a simple spanking.” A simple spanking, is there such a thing? Upon thinking about it, I would have to say no. Even just a teasing smack on the rear end has implications, from humor and teasing to flirting, a warning, or even foreplay. In the case of an unwanted swat, it could be the precursor to a fist to the jaw (Remember to tuck in that thumb, first! Or at least so I’ve heard )
In the case of Logan and Christian, every time Logan’s hand lands, it is always good. In this snippet, Logan and Christian reminisce a little about the first time Logan spanked Christian. Ahhh, the good memories.
“I’ll unlock the door. Why don’t you drive in? We don’t have any close neighbors, but just in case someone saw your truck, we don’t want them calling my father.”
A cough of a laugh came from his left. “Uh, no. We definitely don’t want that.”
Once the truck was parked and the garage door shut, Logan hit the button that turned on the lights over the couches and they headed over there. There was, surprisingly, a little chill in the air so Logan turned on the space heater and put it on the coffee table. Christian wrapped his arms around him and pulled him down onto the sofa. “Do you remember the first time we came here?” he asked as he nuzzled Logan’s neck.
“Yep. You were stiff as a board. Afraid to relax when I sat down next to you. ’Til I spanked your tush.”
Took My Breath Away
Sequel to As Natural As Breathing
Genre: Gay Spanking Romance
Series: All They Ever Needed
Sometimes taking control is what you need to do and sometimes the best thing you can do is give that control up.
In the summer between Logan’s junior and senior years of college, these two will find out more about each other and themselves than they imagined.
While unhappy to be missing four weeks of Christian’s company, Logan is thrilled to spend a month with his father’s relatives in New York. A naturally gregarious individual, he is used to winning people over and getting things right. Unfortunately, the Mannettes are not what he expects and for the first time in his life, he finds himself seriously doubting who he is.
Christian has regained some of his old self-esteem and is taking on new challenges. Besides growing in the relationship he has with Logan, he takes the time his boyfriend is away to learn more about domestic discipline. He learns a little online but it is actually Gregory, Logan’s father, where he gains most of his information. Including the fact that his natural strength puts him in a leadership position he isn’t expecting.
When Logan returns to a strong, self-assured Christian, it is with complete relief. As discussions turn to domestic discipline and they realize their true roles within their current and future relationship, both of them are able to let their inhibitions go and together their connection grows surprising Logan to an epiphany.
You can find Took My Breath Away here.
For Thianna D, reading and writing are as important as breathing and far more important than math or science. A storyteller from the time she could speak, she was always making up characters as a kid. As a teenager that turned to sci-fi and fantasy, as an adult to romance. It wasn’t until her fourth decade that she began writing erotic scenes within her stories.
Writing M/M came naturally to her; she wrote her first tale before ever having read one. “There is something about the amazing dynamic between two strong men falling in love and defeating anything thrown at them.” While she had written several BDSM stories involving men, As Natural As Breathing was the first full-length novel involving domestic discipline. In Took My Breath Away, its sequel, Logan and Christian further their relationship in very defining ways.
You can find out more of what is going on with her at:
Spanking can be a great way to experiment in the bedroom, build a stronger relationship with your partner and even bring some of your favorite novels to life. But how do you go from reading about spanking to actually implementing it into your life?
There are a few things you should know before giving your partner the hand (or asking for it).
Spanking definitely has the potential to hurt, so it's important that you approach it safely and with someone you trust. This isn't something you want to dive into with some don't know very well. So before you get started, talk to your partner and let them know this is something that you would like to try. Many men have been taught that they should never hit a woman, so it may take some talking through to get them on board.
After you've gotten your partner on board, you will need to set up a safe word. A safe word will ensure that you are both safe and not getting pushed beyond your comfort level. Pick a word that is easy to remember and yell out so that it can be said when either of you are getting to a point where you can't take anymore.
Now the actual spanking…
It's important to not just dive in hand first when you're spanking someone or getting spanked. You need to get in the right mindset and become aroused, as arousal can actually turn the pain derived from spanking into pleasure. So be sure to include some foreplay into your playtime prior to getting your spank on.
When you're feeling good and ready, the spanker should gently place one hand on the spankee's gentials and the other on their butt cheek. As they wind up to lay down a spank, they will need to cup their hand slightly and spank upward versus a downward spank. They also have to be sure to aim directly for the butt cheeks. Aiming too low or high can put you in dangerous territory that can lead to the spankee getting hurt.
Once they have laid down a spank, they should use their one hand to gently rub the area and the other to stimulate the spankee's genitals. This will help the brain to start associating spanking with pleasure.
When the spanker is ready to go again, it is important that they shift their spank a little so that they aren't constantly striking the same area.
Beginner spankers should stick to using their hand because this will help them understand how much force they are inflicting as well as learn how to aim correctly. If you've gotten some solid hand time in, there are some toys you can graduate to.
Sex stores like Adam & Eve carry several different options for those of you feeling extra adventurous. You can try a paddle, crop or whip. A paddle is going to consist of a flat board with a handle. These are good for spreading the spank out across the buttocks. A whip is going to consist of a handle with strands of fabric on the end that will be used to lash your partner. This will be much more painful than the paddle. And then there's the crop. Crops are typically long rods with a piece of fabric attached on the end. This one will be equally as painful as the whip route and can be used to target very specific areas. In all cases, be sure to slowly build up to the pain. Do not immediately opt for full force as these will be very different from using your hand.
Hi, it's Casey. I'm taking over here at Spanking Romance Reviews today.
Halloween is coming! Have I mentioned I love to dress up? Seems I have been obsessed with playing dress up since I was a kid. Reflecting on my past Halloween costumes I have realized they were largely based on the type of skirt that accompanied them. I was a witch two years in a row (I think that had something to do with the pointy hat though as I don't remember my witch dress being all that appealing). Then I was a cheerleader (pleated skirt!), a can-can dancer (lots of tulle! Cute tights!), a gypsy (skirt made of scarves that lifted up when I spun in a circle!), a ballerina (hello, tutu!), and I know there were a few princesses thrown in there- I had a thing for tiaras too.
Other than dressing up and free candy the whole Halloween season sort of scares me. I don't like horror movies. I don't like being scared. I don't like spooky things jumping out at me. I am really afraid of the dark.
So I wrote a book that has zombies in it. That makes sense, right?
Whatever, it's fun, and it's got spankings and some hot sex. What else do you want? Oh, zombie killings? Yeah it's got that too.
Cursed Waters Excerpt:
Roxy lifted her head up and realized she was definitely not alone. There were about half a dozen people milling around on the sidewalks. Slowly, milling around, as if they were out for a stroll, as if they weren't walking in a hurricane, almost as if they were zombies. She quickly shook herself, no, not that, there was no such thing.
Trying to keep her head up, so she could avoid running into anyone, the rain and wind whipped against her face and stung her eyes. She squinted, trying to clear her vision, then let out a yelp as her feet tangled in a fallen branch. Roxy saw the sidewalk advancing towards her and she placed her hands out in front to brace for her fall. Her palms and knees stung as the skin scraped away on the rough concrete of the sidewalk.
She felt hands on her waist, lifting her off the hard, wet sidewalk. She panicked and tried to remember what Seaweed had told her about fighting zombies. Failing to recall any zombie fighting techniques, Roxy turned and swung at her attacker, fists flying. Her wrists were caught before she ever landed one punch. Surprised, she looked up into Trevor's angry glare.
“Are you nuts?” he yelled. Roxy barely heard him over the sounds of the whipping wind.
Her heart was pounding and she was too stunned to answer his question. She saw one of the slow walkers coming up behind Trevor and gestured for him to turn around. It was a man, his features drawn and gaunt, he looked past them as if not even seeing them blocking his way. Roxy pulled on Trevor's hands, which were still wrapped around her wrists, and the two of them ducked into a doorway of a storefront.
The slow moving man stumbled past them. Roxy and Trevor shot each other curious looks. Trevor stuck his head out of the alcove looking both ways up and down the sidewalk. He grabbed Roxy's elbow and jerked her back in the direction towards her apartment. She dug her heels in, pulling back, when Trevor spun around she gestured towards the flooded lot and her car. He shook his head and pulled her again. They got into a brief tug of war in the middle of the sidewalk. Roxy was pulling on Trevor with all her strength trying to get him to release her arms.
He pulled Roxy tight against him with one arm, slamming her into his muscly chest. He reached around with his other arm and placed a hard smack on her rain coat covered ass. Her eyes flew to his in surprise and her body stiffened. Trevor loosened his hold on her, but still gripping her elbow, he pulled her to follow behind him and this time she complied.
Cursed Waters Blurb:
Roxy Wilson is going through the motions. She's running her deceased grandmother's psychic readings shop, but she's not a psychic. Hoping to expand and just become a gift shop, she contacts her ex-boyfriend, Trevor Dale. Only she doesn't anticipate the feelings she's still having for him after four years of separation.
Trevor could never get Roxy out of his system, and now with her so close to him again, he's reluctant to let her go. But a 40 year- old curse involving evil spells and zombies overtaking the small, seaside town of Ocean Pointe may put a stop to any sort of romantic reunion.
Can Roxy and Trevor break the curse and save their town from zombies? Find out in Cursed Waters!
Warning: This book contains spankings and anal play between two consenting adults. If you are offended by this subject matter, please do not read this.
I've always known that trust is essential to submission. That was kind of a given. But having read the recent Round Table Discussions, I really thought about that trust for the first time.
There was one comment in particular that Gemini made about the gift of Dominance. As a sub, I am completely and selfishly focused on myself and this was interesting to read. In my post, I spoke about struggling with submission – wanting to give it but being unable to. After reading what Gemini wrote, something clicked for me. When giving the gift of submission, you must trust that the gift of Dominance will be given in return. It's like you have to trust that the one you are giving your submission to can take it, can accept it and give you back what you need – his Dominance.
In Aching To Submit, the blurb reads that Sophie hadn't told her husband of her kink out of fear of rejection. Yes, that's one side of things, but there's also the other side. Maybe she wasn't sure or didn't trust that he could take it and give her back what she needed – his Dominance. The following snippet is a punishment scene, one of the few Sophie has received so far. It's at the end of this piece that she realizes that her trust was not misplaced – that Michael is more than capable of caring for her submission and offering her, in turn, the gift of his Dominance.
* * * *
“Hold out your hands,” he said.
“You don’t have to bind…” she began.
“How many additional strokes do you think you deserve for speaking when you did not have permission to speak?”
She stared at him. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said quickly. “I just…”
“Ten more, then. Another word and we’ll make it twenty on top of what you’re already going to get.”
She stared at him, her mouth open, but luckily too smart to keep talking.
“Hold your hands out,” he said.
She extended them to him and he bound them in front of her before sitting down on the chair. “Lay yourself across my lap,” he said.
Sophie took a step to his side and held on to his thigh as she leaned forward, then put her hands to the floor. Once she was situated, he trapped both her legs between his and pulled her tight to him. She then felt the weight of the belt as he laid it over her low back.
“I like you like this,” he said, his hand circling her buttocks, then pressing on the base of the plug before dipping down into her pussy. “You’re wet, Soph, even for your punishment you’re wet. But pain before pleasure and this is going to hurt. Are you ready?”
“I don’t know, Sir,” she said, her voice wavering.
He chuckled and slapped her ass once, then caressed softly before repeating the motion on the other cheek. The caress was just momentary and only heightened her anxiety as she knew the strike that followed would be sharp and quick.
“Ow,” she said, already squirming.
“Oh, honey,” he said and she could hear the smile in his voice, “this is nothing compared to what’s coming.”
He slapped harder and she struggled against each one, but with her hands bound as they were and her legs trapped between his, it was useless. When he picked up the belt, however, she shoved her full weight against him, trying to get free, panic overriding everything else.
Michael pulled her to him, holding her tight by her waist. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay, Soph. It’s me. You can take this; you’ll feel better for it.”
“Easy for you to say,” she cried.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, surprising her.
She turned her head to meet his eyes. “No.”
Her eyes, which had been dry until then, suddenly filled with tears that overflowed onto the carpet beneath her. “I don’t want you to stop. I’m just scared. I think I made a mistake. I think I should have chosen a different belt,” she cried.
He laughed out loud, but it wasn’t cruel. In fact, as he did it, he hugged her to him, rubbing her back. “Baby,” he began, “you think I’d have let you get away with that?” he asked. He was massaging her low back.
That was the moment she understood that he wouldn’t have let her off the hook.
Goose bumps covered the flesh over her entire body as this realization settled upon her. She exhaled and closed her eyes, relishing the release, the knowledge that she was safe here in his arms and that she could lean on him, that he would carry her. That he could carry her.