Posts Tagged ‘Short stories’

The Spanking Collection

Today is a special day; one I’ve been awaiting for months. The Spanking Writers, Abel and Haron, are launching their anthology collection of spanking stories by twenty bloggers and writers, the proceeds from which will all be donated to cancer research. It’s an ambitious, generous project, and I know they’ve both poured huge amounts of time and energy into it.

It’s also personally exciting to me, because they were kind enough to invite me to contribute a story, and the opportunity prompted me to write my first ever piece of ‘proper’ spanking fiction (blog posts don’t count).

The authors include some of my favourite writers – I am particularly looking forward to reading Casey Morgan, Graham Grey and Paul Bailey‘s contributions. I couldn’t wait to read the stories by Penny Docherty and Zille Defeu, which was lucky because both of them let me have a sneak peek. Both lived up to my high expectations – in very different ways.

My own story started life as a somewhat wry take on the royal wedding, which was all you could hear about at the time I was writing, and evolved into a far more in-depth piece than I’d imagined. My initial intention was to explore the complexities of consent by setting the stage for the semi-consensual punishment of a strong minded character. To make things more interesting the punishment is a judicial, ceremonial one; and the backdrop for the scenario is an arranged marriage – to which my princess entirely consents.

The punishment itself is not, initially, consensual. She is more tricked into it than forced, but in the end she chooses to go along with events wholeheartedly for varied reasons of her own.

Other things which may interest you about it: it’s a spanking story based in a Fantasy setting (I haven’t heard of many people doing this apart from Haron herself, but as an avid reader of fantasy it’s a genre fusion I’ve always been rather keen on), and none of the characters in it are white. I had almost as much fun with the world building as I did with the caning sequence itself.

This is a one-off opportunity to read not only my first ever story in print (yay!), but exclusive stories by a lot of well-known kinky authors. Every contribution to the project, including that of Abel and Haron themselves, is unpaid, and the whole thing is for an extremely good cause. It’s available in paperback and a variety of ebook formats. Please do consider buying a copy for yourself or a friend, and if you do, let me know what you think!

Watch your step – don’t click this.

Miss

This weekend I had the not inconsiderable pleasure of March Middleton‘s company. We enjoyed a stimulating evening together, during which March developed a liking for Tom’s vicious little pocket-tawse, and demonstrated her ability to spank really quite hard when she knows she can get away with it. There was a lot of giggling (I do [...]

Calligraphy, cross-dressing and correction

Here’s a treat to kick off November. This “fragment” by Casey Morgan, Georgie/George may be a tantalisingly short story, but it has everything. Country houses, public schoolboys, simmering bisexual tension, private tutors, unruly young aristocrats, calligraphy lessons, girls dressed as boys… “She can’t write?” “Not that one can decipher.” Delahay’s face assumed the expression of [...]

a pervy linkpost

Some choice snippets from the kinky web this week: S&M video producer in Hungary raided by policePosted by Adele Haze on January 27, 2010 A reader has alerted me to an item on a Hungarian news site, according to which a S&M film studio was raided by the police after a model complained that her [...]

Linden flowers

I came home from a magical May weekend to discover this beautiful post by Abby Williams. She wrote a 250-word story for a writing challenge, “based on a dream I had a year ago about Pandora telling me she’d ‘dreamed about the linden tree again.’” Of course I am a sucker for hearing about myself, but I would have found this story compelling and haunting anyway.

It’s funny that I should be associated with the linden tree. I can’t remember if Abby wrote to me about that dream when she had it, but linden has a special meaning for me. The tea is well known for its healing properties; I prefer the taste of it to camomile and often drink it at the end of the day. But mostly I drink it for the profound sense-memory associated with it, of the first weekend I played with Tom.

I was nineteen, still an undergraduate, and it was our first date. We’d ended up in bed sometime the previous year, in complicated circumstances that led to us falling out of touch for a few months. When we picked things up he decided to do things properly. My young self was thoroughly, expertly woo’d. I can still remember the tingling excitement of receiving his love letters in the college post. He dressed me up, took me out and swept me off my feet.

Here’s what I wrote in my personal journal when I got home:

Everything about the last three days has been almost feverishly acute, from the moment I collected my post on Friday to find a white lily corsage had been delivered for me only an hour before, chosen to perfectly complement the antique jet-beaded jacket I would be wearing that night. And then that moment when we stepped through the doors of Simpson’s in the Strand wearing full Victorian period costume; the way he passed his umbrella and top hat to the cloakroom attendant with absolute gravity while I couldn’t keep from grinning. And the champagne cocktails and madeira and wine and port and cigars, and the most extravagant dinner I have ever had bought for me, and not getting to sleep until 6am (at which point he had to go to Oxford to see his other partner) and sleeping until mid-afternoon in his bed that was specially built to comfortably sleep four (including provision for two of them to be tied down to it), and making myself linden tea in that huge empty house and reading the Iliad in a room smelling of pipe tobacco and sex.

And, of course, the utterly inexpressible contentment of having to sleep on my front each night so as to avoid putting any weight on the new bruises. And, then, this morning, coming back from the bathroom wearing Thomas’ black silk dressing gown to find the low-backed, oaken chair arranged exactly as it had been on Friday night – white silk scarves for my wrists and ankles, a red knotted one for my mouth – and my sheer, animal terror at the thought of my already welted and swollen skin. And him sitting in the armchair with the cane resting, unobtrusively, on his lap, waiting for me.

Linden has long been “the tree of lovers”. When I drink it now, I’m taken straight back to that sunny, sleepy Saturday, almost five years ago to the day. Lazing in his bed, still half-drunk with desire, drinking linden tea and falling in love with him.

The Fly on the Wall

I loved this story posted by Richard Windsor on Friday. Any scenario that features male and female spankees being punished alongside each other is a rarity, and I’m always glad to see it. This is the second chapter in the story, and while I enjoyed Chapter 1 well enough, these scene is the one that [...]

Writing in Shadows

Just a quick one tonight – I’m completely wiped out by an evil cold, and am hiding under my duvet desperately hoping I’ll feel better in time for my shoot on Friday. I made a new friend in the pub last weekend – a fabulous lady called Jacqueline who writes erotic fiction for a living. [...]

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