This is part of the excellent, very hot but also loving, steamy, often funny and always insightful novel “The Tale of the Tawse”
Because that novel’s about to be published, the early drafts have to come off the net.
Publishers don’t like competition from free providers.
Once it’s published, the address for buying this will be uploaded here.
Midway is always a time for reflection. The heat raised by the paddle.
And the crop resting on her back – and the glint in the eye of the photographer – tell her there’s some way to go yet.
But she knows they’ll get there.
This is part of the excellent, very hot but also loving, steamy, often funny and always insightful novel “The Tale of the Tawse”
Because that novel’s about to be published, the early drafts have to come off the net.
Publishers don’t like competition from free providers.
Once it’s published, the address for buying this will be uploaded here.
There are lots of things a submissive woman can do, when her Sir is in that most imperious, imperative mood.
Obviously, doing as she’s told is paramount. But, as is so often the case in interaction between Sir and girl, it’s the details that carry so much erotic heft.
He watches his girl. But though he loves her, and her body, and her desire to obey and please him, it’s the details he’s learned to notice. She holds herself on tip-toes.
He wonders why that detail is so significant. It’s partly that she wants to place her body to advantage visually, since she knows he will be watching her closely while he punishes her.
She gives up control once she’s on tip toes for him. She doesn’t have her feet on the ground. And so she’s on his ground.
Sexy Words Con
This is the first of what will be an annual event for sex bloggers, print and e-book writers, sex toy reviewers and their fans in Australia, New Zealand and beyond.
The purpose is to allow people to pick up new knowledge and skills, to put meet favourite writers and also meet your own fans, and to build the links and contracts we need for a supportive community.
Basic program
The Con opens with registration and socialisation on Friday 13 September 2019.
The formal program of the Con is largely taken up with presentations from talented and experienced people on different aspects of the erotic writing trade, or mission, in this part of the world.
There are also general plenary sessions for special presentations, and the occasional piece of fun and silliness.
Other activities
One option for the Con venue is the beautiful Blue Mountains, on the outskirts of Sydney, NSW. If that’s chosen there’ll be evening tours to gaze at some genuinely awe-inspiring landscape and other sites.
There’s a Con dinner on Saturday night, which will feature burlesque and a comedian.
And farewell drinks on the Sunday night.
An educational, inspirational and social time is guaranteed for all! We hope to see you there!
Questionnaire
We’d like to know what you’d like to come from this conference! I’d encourage as many people as possible to fill in our questionnaire. It’s here!
3
In her bed, when she’d lost count of her orgasms and her body burned, she found herself sitting up, her back to him, his cock pressed against her ass.
He spread her legs, and put his right hand on her cunt. He patted, and the pats became blows. She knew, in her conscious mind, that he was spanking her cunt quite hard.
But it didn’t hurt at all.
His voice sounded strained, urgent: “Say, thank you, sir!”
And, lost, when his hand next landed, fingers spread on her soft, wet self, Ellie wailed, “Thank you, Master!”
She felt him hardening. “I think you’re right.” He sounded surprised.
Later, her face in a pillow, her ass up, being ridden, she howled again, a ululation of pleasure and of something wrenching, shifting inside her.
When she was finished he rode her hard, seeking only his own pleasure. She felt his whole body spasm when he came in her. She’d pleased him. That mattered.
When his body had relaxed he kissed her ear and rolled to lie beside her, his arm over her body.
“You called me Master.”
She felt a chill. He was going to be sensible now. Restore sense. “I did. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t ask me to. It just felt right.”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Her heart sank. “But if you meant it, then I’m happy to be –”
Ellie wriggled back towards him, her skin against his. She thought about sucking him hard again, but he’d fallen asleep.
In the morning they’d talk. But he’d taken her, and when she’d given him more he’d taken that too. Maybe she had a Master, and… He’d made her wait half an hour. Half an hour and thirty-four years. She followed him into sleep.
[The end]
Towards morning, the hash sweated out of me and my mind and tongue working again, I hoisted Emilia on top of me and, when I judged she was concentrating fiercely, riding me to her orgasm, I gave her bottom a series of encouraging slaps.
She made a lust sound, an animal sound from somewhere deep in her throat, and held my shoulders tight, so that was clearly right. As she got closer to coming I slapped her shuttling arse and thighs hard, then very hard, and that was right too.
She shouted the only command I’d ever let her get away with – “Harder!” – and I smacked her till her ass and, it seemed, her mind were burning hot. She fell forward onto me, screaming into my ear as she came.
Emilia had dodged the talk I thought we should have, so that served as our discussion. She didn’t need words quite as much as I did.
So we were lovers, then, who knew about each other from the first night. Carefully, we expanded our range.
So we were together the next night as well, and I held her down and wrapped rope around her wrists to see what would happen, and what happened is that Emilia sighed and wriggled, content to be bound. So I took the poor helpless girl over my knee and spanked her long and hard, and that brought forth stronger pleasured sounds.
And then she roilled onto her back, still tied, and pointed her toes at the ceiling. Different corners of the ceiling. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. We fucked: strong, committed fucking.
So it went by increments until we’d established that, for example, if I tied her ankles and wrists to the bed-ends and strapped her bottom and thighs with my belt till they were deeply, hotly red, she’d respond with even noisier lust.
Emilia could not only tolerate pain that would have me screaming and whimpering, she could ride that pain and turn it to sex.
Two months later I broke my rules about emotional safety and declared wonderstruck love for Emilia under another starry sky. Because her mother had advised her never to believe anything a man said outside the legal hours of daylight, I repeated the declaration in the morning, sober, straight and still wonderstruck.
There comes a time when punishment is over. Time moves fast during a caning, and then, when the last stroke is delivered, it slows down. Nearly to a stop. There is pain, and there is peace.
She’d been warned about consequences of not doing university work before, and she knows that the punishment was an act of love, and she deserved it. No matter how much it hurt.
But she knows, too, that he still has the cane in his hand, as a badge of office, almost. Justice is one of the strongest ties between master and willing slave. And, justice or not, she knows he’s hard for her.
In a moment he’s going to hold her. And kiss her, and tell her she’s good, and he’ll help her get the overdue assignment finished. But for now, the assignment isn’t what matters. His need for her, and hers for him; that matters. In a few seconds, no more, they’ll be fucking.
I’m going to get back to my schoolgirl spanking story, the Jennifer and Maddie saga, soon.
This is a plan, or map, of the island to the south of the Australian mainland. For some reason you only have to say “map of Tasmania” to make Australians laugh.
I also intend to publish it in a series of e-books. Probably in slices of about 40 pages at a time, since that seems to be around standard for erotic e-books.
Which means I have to find a couple of women ready to be cover models. Pleated skirts and side-boob. No twats. Will be paid. Interested? Contact me!
I have to finish my non-bdsm novel, which I’d hoped to have done by the end of August, but I got held up by paid work coming in. That takes precedence.
I have to tidy up a novel I’ve had provisionally accepted by a publisher. Because of fuck-ups in version control it needs one last go-through to lose the typos, repetition and inconsistencies. I want to save their copy-editor some work.
This is the legendary Louise Brooks, who will never get lost in Tasmania.
I’ve also got to tidy up another non-erotic novel, which has a few problems that can be fairly easily repaired.
It really should be on the market, so I’ll take the time to make it at its best and most saleable self. That should take about five day’s work.
Then I get back to the novel I was supposed to have finished by the end of August.
And I need to do some paid work soon. The bank account is starting to look a little sad.
And that will keep me busy enough for a while.