Confessions of a Sinful Submissive

Forgive me my Sir, for I have sinned. I’ve forgotten to do my chores today, received a speeding ticket for going fifteen miles over the speed limit and masturbated in the office bathroom at lunch. I know I deserve a hard spanking!

You can laugh, but I often wonder how many submissives need to confess various sins on a regular basis. In writing, I try and bring the level of angst along with the blindfolded in chairultimate love, worry and fear, understanding and forgiveness. Both the Dominant and the submissive are challenged by each other. Confessing often expedites the difficult situation. Or so a submissive would like to think. Could I or would I confess? Hmmm…

I’m a rather opinionated woman. I think any Dom would have a difficult time controlling me and admitting my sins? I’m not certain I would be good at that. I have two books coming out – volumes of stories where the women in the relationship learn that being obedient, submissive and receiving discipline for their sins creates harmony in the home. Is that really possible? Would confession actually help?

In Honor and Obey, I explore these questions and more. I absolutely loved getting into these characters, finding that moment they finally open up, share their inner soul. Tougher to do than you think.

Confessions. The word itself means so many different things. Whether you’re confessing a sin, a want or need, or a varying aspect of your personality others aren’t aware of, divulging secrets can be uncomfortable. We all have various thoughts or desires that we keep secret, but often things occur when we least expect them, requiring us to air our dirty laundry. People are very complicated, complex, as well as completely different inside and out, and that makes for interesting friends, lovers etc. I think one aspect that remains true for all of us – we long for acceptance. I’m realizing this more and more lately.

When I write stories, whether D/s, paranormal or gritty horror, there’s always an element of one or more characters who are hiding something grizzly. Readers savor peeling an onion, finding the juicy yet fallible center. We root for the bad guy in television and movies, and let’s face it, what girl doesn’t hunger for the rough-hewn biker type? While the exterior may be a little rugged around the edges, the heroes of our dreams all have a soft center. By the end of the book or movie, they’ve opened up to the woman they hunted, confessing their dark desires as well as intimate details about their past. The formula is all the same in romance novels. Boy meets girl, boy chases girl and he, she or both have a dirty little secret. He chases her. He pushes him away. Then they ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after on a ranch/mansion/magical island. Yeah, right.

My D/s stories are quite a bit different, don’t you think? Why are they? Because of the added complexity of living in a sense two completely different lives. You live one every day when you work, spend time with certain friends and around your mother in law. You live another entirely when you’re behind closed doors. Your obedience to your Master truly begins. This is very much the way of D/s couples. The vanilla world may never know who we (yes, I place myself in this category due to what I write) truly are.

The majority of women are strong willed, very opinionated and don’t mind telling the world their thoughts. I know I push hard, often raging against the machine. In talking with several Heads of Households, they love a spirited woman who speaks her mind. They simply want to be obeyed. Again, I think with a D/s relationship, the very frank and open lines of communication allow for very pointed discussions that include various uncomfortable topics. This alone pushes away the need to hold a secret.

Let me as you a couple of questions. Are you ready to confess your sins to your lover, your Dom, your family? Can you tell the most important people in your life who you really are? Can you rip off the mask and expose your underbelly? I think for a lot of us, the question remains unanswered. We’re terrified of being made fun of, ridiculed too hungry to waitfor our beliefs. I’m not a religious person in any manner, but I do appreciate the Catholic Church and the ability to confess your sins. Once the act is complete, the confessor is exonerated, free of their evil or wicked deed. The sins are stated behind closed doors, anonymity a promise of secrecy. I’ve often wondered if some very creative murderers dropped various clues simply to unload burden from their souls.

While God and the church might be forgiving and non-prejudicial, some of our loved ones just might not be as accommodating. Then there’s the other aspect, confessing your needs to yourself. Often times we can be our own worst enemy. We anguish over our dark desires, as if they’re a bad thing. There isn’t a Dom or a Head of Household, husband or boyfriend in a vanilla life that doesn’t or shouldn’t do the same thing. We all need to expunge, cleanse.

The circles surrounding D/s or DD couples are often small. The reasons are simple. We’re judged all the time as humans. Why do we want to bring additional strife into our life? While I’m a ballsy chick and could care less the majority of the time about what others think, I grow as weary of the bullshit as anyone else. So the circles of those who truly understand an alternative lifestyle are kept intimate. We’re happy with that. The joy of sharing is wonderful indeed and I’m glad we have a select few who will never judge, but the risk with others isn’t worth the prize. So we keep the dark side a secret from the overall majority.

As we all know, there isn’t a person alive who isn’t keeping some sort of a secret from someone. White lies are often told and husbands and wives have a very separate life many times than the one they live with. I’ve seen many a vanilla marriage derailed over purported secrets, ones that didn’t even exist. When they do and they’re discovered, wound and trauma tend to ensue. Granted, when one spouse confesses to another, all hell can break lose. Should he or she have opened their mouths after being confronted? That’s a question I can’t answer, but personally I believe when someone is keeping a significant secret, there’s a great deal of unhappiness in their lives.

With regard to a D/s relationship – do I believe in the lifestyle? I honestly do believe the sharing, the giving and the closeness is unequaled. I revel at the thought. Could I find peace, a portion of my soul? That is for another blog to discuss…

I hope you’ve enjoyed.

Kisses and spanks…

PS – I’ll have some excerpts for you later this week along with the cover reveal!

Piper

 

My Special Guest – Paige Parsons

I’ve had more fun being able to highlight other authors. Let’s face it – I also get to find delicious treats to read! I so hope you’re enjoying. This is another new author to me and one I’m going to read for years to come. Please take a moment to enjoy and give a warm welcome to…

PAIGE PARSONS – SHARING BACKSTAGE

SYNOPSIS

What happens when the girl who runs from everything finally decides to stay put?

Harper Harrison is an accomplished, independent, and vibrant young woman. As a freelance production stage manager, she’s no stranger to being in charge. She knows how to get the impossible done, even if she has to take a few shortcuts for the sake of Paige Parsons Sharing Backstagetheatre magic. She has one fatal flaw, though. When things get complicated, uncomfortable, or she even thinks they might go wrong, especially in her personal life, she bolts.

 

Lucas Mason is a fellow freelancer, and when they work the same show, sparks fly. They share a love of the stage and high stakes sex. They’ve christened nearly every location backstage unashamedly, but Harper wants more. Lucas makes every effort to keep her at arm’s length. He blames it on their crazy schedules, but Harper believes something more is going on.

 

They reconnect after an extended break and Harper is shocked to find out that Lucas is now her boss. He has a dominant streak that he isn’t afraid to display, and she isn’t a fan. Answering to Lucas takes more than a little getting used to, and after a trip or two over his knee, she decides that maybe a relationship with him is more than she bargained for, after all.

 

Harper leaves town to chase her Broadway dream and to take comfort in the familiarity of her ex-boyfriend. New York isn’t home, though, and Harper has to face the truth of her situation. The easygoing man she’s with isn’t the one she wants or needs. Lucas is three thousand miles away, and he has no intention of chasing her.

To have the life she wants, Harper will need to face all of her demons, confess her transgressions, and accept her punishment. It’s the only way they’ll ever find themselves sharing backstage again.

 

EXCERPTS

Excerpt #1

“Hopefully the memory of this spanking will better help you control your impulses and reflexes.”

“¡Ay! Tómalo con calma. Sí, papi!”

She wasn’t even close to tears, but these spanks packed a lot more power than what she’d been getting in passing. There was no doubt he meant business. It wasn’t that she didn’t take him seriously before, but now it felt like he was drawing his own hard line. Focused in on the searing happening on her backside, Harper became acutely aware of the sound. Lucas had stopped lecturing, and now the only audio vibrating off the walls were her cries and the sound of flesh on flesh impact. Her subconscious was having its own internal dialogue now.

It was just an impulse, right? She didn’t have some sort of impaired psyche that really wanted to feel what a serious punishment would be like, did she?

Lucas tapped her hip so she would lift a little for him to get her pajama bottoms and panties down. The girl hardly kept clothes on in the house and only ever slept in tank tops and panties, but he guessed self-preservation had kicked in and motivated her to slip on his old University of Arizona flannel bottoms. If he weren’t about to redden her backside, for scaring a year off his life, he’d have appreciated the look more. She had to wear them cuffed at the top and bottom to get around in them, but she loved them and looked adorable on the rare cold Arizona night.

Harper reached back in a futile attempt at impeding his clothing removal process. That sting was pretty powerful through her clothes, and she didn’t want to gain any knowledge of how painful it might be without them.

“I promise I will start from scratch, Harper if you don’t get those hands back in front of you.”

Excerpt #2

“That is completely untrue. Every time the two of you work on a show all you do is think about what it would be like to really be together, as a full-time couple. Well, this is closer than you’ve ever been. He’s there all the time. You’re there most of the season. Maybe you can finally see what happens when you’re in the same place for longer than a few weeks. You can see what happens when you can’t run away and an easy exit isn’t possible.”

Continued silence on the other end confirmed, for Mira, that she’d hit a nerve. It wasn’t her goal to make things harder for her sister, but the girl had a stubborn streak. It didn’t matter how obvious it was to everyone else in the room, if Harper didn’t get there on her own, she wouldn’t accept it. This conversation wasn’t going to be different, but that wouldn’t keep the truth from coming out, like an erupting geyser.

“Someone has to be in charge Harper. You know that better than most. Hell, you have a job where you’re the one in charge. Your problem is you hate it when the person in charge isn’t you. We know how it goes, anyone who has the nerve to tell you no becomes the enemy. You guys have worked as partners all along. Why can’t that continue? I know you, Harper, just you remember that. I’ll let you figure out what that means on your own, but here’s some sisterly honesty for you, the real reason you’re pissed is that now he has the authority to tell you no. If you stay on, as a freelance agent, he has the power to call you to task.”

“It’s like you’re not even listening to me. Estás no ayuda en absoluto!”

Her phone had beeped a few more times since she’d been talking to her sister, but Harper refused to acknowledge it. Each time she glanced though she saw his number pop up. He certainly was determined.

“I can hear the line interruption too kiddo. Deal with it now or deal with it later.”

“I’m going with later.”

“Never the easy way with you; you’re the one that hates a scene. If I were you, I would remember that while I was ignoring all those calls. I love you little sister, but it might be time for you to put on those proverbial big-girl-panties.”

WHAT’S PAIGE ALL ABOUT?

Paige Parsons is a creative Joan of all Trades, with her first love being theatre. Now living and working in Japan, Paige, a native New Yorker, has always loved the world of make believe. Whether reading, writing or performing she loves a good story.

She holds an undergraduate degree in Communications-Broadcast Journalism/English-Creative Writing, a graduate degree in Elementary Education, and is ABD for her doctorate in Education-Brain Research.

Having spent the last 25 years collecting stories around the stage as an actress, stage manager, and production manager, it is no surprise that Paige loves to tell stories, read stories, and put stories up on the stage.

PURCHASE LINK

 

My Special Guest – Jamie Phillips

I have another fabulous guest on my blog today and another Blushing Books author. I absolutely love the title of this book. I can so imagine, especially given today is a rainy day, the kinds of sizzling events that might occur. She’s a very lovely lady and a new friend. Please give a warm welcome!

JAMIE PHILLIPS – MORE STORIES FOR RAINY DAYS

Life, love and loving punishment captured in nine more short stories to warm the heart and soul when warmth is in short supply

SYNOPSIS

In this second volume of rainy day stories, Jamie Phillips takes the reader on a Jamie Phillips More Stories for a Rainy Dayjourney through a rainier, slightly darker day. You will experience a bit of the supernatural as you get into the ‘head’ of an old house that knows sensual secrets spanning decades of its inhabitants. You’ll learn of the unexpected joy that may come from the simple act of clicking the wrong link in an email. If you’ve ever wondered exactly how close a connection identical twins can have, you may just find your answer in this volume of More Stories for Rainy Days. You will also be carried away to a deserted island, and take a journey that starts in the world of BDSM dungeons, ending in the light of happy domestic discipline.

EXCERPTS 

If Only Houses Could Talk

The house observed the new young woman standing so straight and tall in the corner. Why did they never learn? She seemed an intelligent girl, pretty too with her raven hair, green eyes and slim figure. Yet here she was, not a week after they’d moved in, standing, waiting, as all the previous naughty girls had. Some of the others you could understand, that young madam back in 1955 for instance. She led her parents a merry dance with her Beatnik boyfriends and their rock and roll parties. She spent half her young life in that corner and the other half over her Mum or Dad’s knee getting her backside walloped with a wooden spoon. How she howled! Remembering the sound of her cries, the house shivered, dislodging dust from the picture rail high up near the ceiling. But the brat never learned. Every Sunday morning before church, whack, whack, whack… and then she’d miss her curfew again the very next Saturday night. They were all just memories now, and the house had so many locked up inside its solid brick walls.

Teasing Twins

The outer door closed. Zoe looked over her shoulder at me silently begging to be released before her sister entered the room and found her displayed in the corner. I shook my head as Amy bounced into the room, eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief.

“Well?” I asked.

“W-e-ll,” she drawled. Zoe glared angrily at her.

“You’re supposed to have your nose in the corner,” I reminded her. “However, you can join us now and hear Amy’s findings in the experiment.”

When Zoe joined us, I said, “Carry on, Amy.”

“I’m tempted to lie,” she replied, bouncing with excitement, “but I can’t. It was awesome. Almost as good as the real thing but without the sting.”

“You have to tell us the time you felt the events, Amy,” I said. “This was a serious scientific experiment, not a voyeur’s night out.”

“Oh. I’ve forgotten,” she said, momentarily crushed.

“How could you forget? It was only in the last hour.”

“I looked at the time but then got caught up in it all. Now I can’t remember,” Amy replied anxiously. She could tell I wasn’t pleased.

“I asked you to do this for a good reason. We’d have real proof of the bond between twins – if you’d done as you were asked.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You will be. Now we must run the experiment again,” Zoe’s mouth dropped open until I continued, “only this time Zoe will note the time and you will provide the excitement.”

A Very Nineties Couple

Alex brushed her hair from her face and looked in the closet mirror. She was surprised how pretty the scene was. It felt clumsy and uncomfortable resting her weight on her hand on the floor with her body and legs jackknifed over his crossed legs but in the mirror, it looked sexy. Her tanned legs and buttocks made a nice contrast to her white sundress that draped itself in folds down her back. Even her golden hair, nuisance though it was, hung elegantly down to the floor exposing her slim neck seductively.

Another fiery swat seared her cheeks and Alex was too busy yelling and struggling to see more. When she wasn’t yelling, she was babbling, pleading, begging. Nothing stopped him till she finally burst into tears and lay still. He didn’t stop right away. He obviously wanted to be sure she was truly penitent.  But now that she was quiet, Alex felt new feelings. The fiery heat in her bottom was matched by an achy heat in her clitoris. Each slap brought her nearer to an orgasm.

Doggie-style had always been one of her favorite positions because the penetration seemed so much deeper and here, in the same sort of position, a swirling throbbing pain-pleasure in her hips was being regularly slapped into new life by his hand – or was it his stomach? What started as hell, now felt like heaven. With coitus interruptus when it stopped! But stop it did and Alex lay twitching and sobbing across his knee. After a while Jay helped her up and sent her to stand in the corner with her hands on her head and her skirt tucked up.

LEARN ABOUT JAMIE

As long as I can remember I’ve been interested in reading and spanking, particularly romantic spanking (I still think Mr. Knightley’s verbal spanking of Emma in Jane Austen’s book of the same name is the best there is anywhere). I’m showing my age when I say that in those long-ago days it was easy to have both interests met in a large number of regular books (and even movies). Eventually, my interest in reading became an interest in writing and that naturally led to writing spanking romances.

I’m married with two grown kids and live in central Canada when I’m not traveling, which I very often am. If I’m not reading or writing, I can usually be found outdoors with a camera looking to capture perfect images of landscapes and wildlife.

Visit Jamie’s Facebook page here:

Jamie Phillips

https://www.facebook.com/people/Jamie-Phillips/100010530167863

Visit Jamie’s Twitter here:

Jamie Phillips

https://twitter.com/blushingjamiep

Jamie’s Amazon Author Page:

Jamie Phillips

amazon.com/Jamie-Phillips/e/B01AY725TM

Thank you so much for being here! Can’t wait to read your book.

Kisses…

Piper

Don’t forget, I have the awesome guests coming including Sheri Lynn, Paige Parsons and Vanessa Brooks!

 

Fire Devil – the Series

I’m so happy to announce that I have a new SIZZLING series coming to Blushing Books. This one has been in the making for months, even years. I absolutely adore smokejumpers. They are awesome, sexy and true heroes in my book. I have an amazing cover artist, Brenda Gonet, who has already created all seven covers. I thought I’d give you a taste of the first story – coming in October. But you have to wait to see the cover for a little while… Let me know what you think.

FIRE DEVIL – THREE RIVERS RUN DEEP

SYNOPSIS

Fire Devil: Whirlwind of fire

Zulies: Smokejumpers in Missoula

Jackals – the elite team of sexy smokejumpers

Secrets to tell. Love to conquer. Lives to save.

Fire Devil banner

Nestled in the heart of Missoula Montana are seven smokejumpers, exclusively trained men sworn to protect lives and the majestic land surrounding them. They are the Jackals, a name coined by their Captain. By day they indulge in their penchant for danger. By night they exude passion. While they have yet to find love, they are ready to lavish a woman with adoration, indulging their every desire. They share a bond of friendship as well as need. Burnout, an exclusive club, caters to domestic discipline. Each man has a story to tell, one of heartache, yearning and tragedy. Every smokejumper will steal your heart as they forge through fires, saving souls. Are you ready for their brand of domination?

Prevent. Protect. Preserve. This is their motto…

THREE RIVERS RUN DEEP

Rock singer Jessica Dunn is at a crossroads in her life, as well as in her music career. On a slippery downwards spiral, she’s yesterday’s news, the music no longer satisfying. Her love life is also nonexistent. She knew it was time for a change. When a friend suggests a vacation in Missoula Montana, she accepts, albeit with reservations. Cowboy country isn’t her style. While meeting a sexy rancher has delicious perks, she doesn’t like his attitude. After seeing a taste of the man inside, she’s determined to peel away his armor.

Stoker Hansen is no lady’s man. In truth, the wounded vet prefers tending to his ranch in order to soothe the personal beasts fighting to breach the surface. A fireman by trade, his cowboy behavior garners a lengthy suspension, keeping him from his beloved career. A damning secret haunts his every move. A chance meeting with a new girl in town lights his fire, but the opinionated vixen has a mouth and a bad attitude. Sparks fly, but he’d prefer to take her over his knee for a hard spanking versus develop any kind of a relationship. Still, he remains intrigued.

A series of events pushes Stoker into re-joining the smoke jumping team, if only for a single caustic event. The plane ride reminds him of the war and the sacrifice made by his best friend. Time for payback, he faces his greatest challenge in an effort to save his honor. Can the sexy singer still his aching heart as he learns to forgive? Will she leave the past behind, finding love as well as her voice?

UNEDITED EXCERPT

I remember when I was a little girl. I believed in fantasies. Handsome knights on large steeds, protecting everyone around them. I used to believe in heroes. I no longer do. 

You’re nothing and deserve to die alone…

“Everyone. Welcome to the stage, Jessica Dunn and Fringe!”

Jessica Dunn exhaled and clenched the neck of her guitar. Words. They were just ugly words. The vibrant lights from the stage ceiling danced across the band’s instruments, swirling in a random yet controlled fashion, neon flashes creating sensual images. She’d been through this before, now thousands of times. Once excited at the prospect of facing an audience, she was exhausted and no longer able to convey her once vivacious personality.

“Go on. You act like you’re heading for your funeral, girl.”

She gave the drummer and the man she spent most of her time with the finger. Cody Falcon grinned. Damn if she didn’t shiver. His dimples and shaggy raven hair always made her swoon. “Do you see anyone that gives a shit out there?”

“What are you talking about?” Cody leaned down, licking her earlobe. “The crowd loves ya.”

“Right. You mean all two dozen or so scattered in the theatre?” She darted a glance out into the audience, shading her eyes from the intense lighting. She and the band once filled massive stadiums. Now they were lucky to get five or six hundred people to attend their performances. They were once considered ‘the’ up and coming rock band, their first single going platinum. The second was heralded as the album of the decade. Now? They were left to play gigs at fairs and two-bit concert halls.

“Stop bellowing like a damn kitten. Get to work.”

After debating her ability to run far away, she adjusted the strap holding the guitar in place and took a step toward the slender opening of the curtain. This wasn’t what she’d hungered for fifteen years before. Act like a professional. Entertain. She brushed her hand through her long red hair and tossed her head back. “You mean tigress don’t you, big boy?”

“That’s my sexy gal.”

Taking long strides, she walked out on stage, waving to the crowd. Temporarily blinded, she whistled and laughed as she found her way toward the microphone. The band members were settling in behind her, taking their usual place, something they’d done countless times during their tenure together. “Anybody ready to rock the house?”

Those attending clapped, their whistles giving her a boost.

“Come on. Let’s get this party rollin’!” Her sultry voice reverberated across the shadows.

She shot Wally, the base player a look, winking and giving a short bow. They were a frisky group and their audiences loved their style. ‘Loved’ as in past tense. Times were different. “We are so ready to have a good time tonight. Are ya’ll ready?” A sickening feeling remained in her gut. She’d fought her nerves for a solid year. Tonight, she was ready to pass out from terror. Hands on the guitar. Start strumming. Everything will be okay. She forced back a single tear as the music began to play in the background. She knew the words by heart. She’d written every damn song after all. But that was a long time ago.

Jessica blinked several times as she shifted from foot to foot. “We are…” The words were lost. She gulped for air and fingered the strings, playing a chord that made no sense.

The crowd cheered, clapping as several people moved toward the edge of the stage.

She froze, unable to take a step or remember the words. Her heart raced as she attempted to focus on anything in front of her. “We are the ones who will…” Goddamn it! Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Wally walking toward her, his smile plastic. He didn’t give a shit about the band or anything to do with their record career. He wanted money and fame, something they’d tried so hard to achieve. She resisted lashing out, scratching his face.

“We are the ones who will rock you, rock you,” Wally sang as he pumped the bass and strutted closer. He gave her an encouraging nod, mouthing ‘you can do it’.

Shimmers of light pulsated around her, mixing with echoes of the music. This was their signature song, the one that rocked the house. She swayed back and forth as she tried to grasp onto what she was supposed to do. A thumping boom of the drums behind her jolted her back to reality. She stamped her foot and gave Wally a hateful look. He wasn’t supposed to be singing. Anger shoved her past an unseen threshold. “We are the ones who will rock you, rock you. We are the ones who fight.”

Wally nodded and grinned, singing alongside her.

All she could think about for the next three songs was kicking his motherfucking ass.

What do you think? I hope you enjoyed and I’ll post more coming soon.

Kisses…

Piper

Don’t forget I have some fabulous upcoming guests on my blog including Paige Parsons, Sheri Lynn, Jaime Phillips and Vanessa Brooks. Tomorrow’s guest? Jaime Phillips!

My Special Guest – Juliette Banks

I feel so blessed to be working with such fabulous authors as well as the rest of the team at Blushing Books. They are truly fabulous and helpful in every way. I’m also lucky to have an incredible guest on my blog today. She has an upcoming release on August 16th. Please take a moment to read, enjoy and comment. Welcome!

JULIETTE BANKS – OUT OF THE DARKNESS

“I can’t keep traipsing three miles every time I want to spank that delectable little behind of yours.”

As a beautiful and famous model, she has the life many young girls dream of.

Yet the missing father; the predatory stepfather; the abusive lover; they all let her Out of the Darkness Juliette Banksdown, and damaged her judgement about the men she meets.

She thought she had met the man of her dreams, yet fate was cruel.

Until one day, at an airport, she meets the strong, yet kind, dominant man she had longed to meet.

Is he the man she has sought her whole life? Will he show her the way out of the darkness and into the loving, submissive relationship she has always craved?

“Oh I work hard, but I play hard, too. Do you play hard, Marianne?”


EXCERPT

He took off my dress and my bra, and I sat before him, head lowered, ready to submit. “Stand up. Place your hands flat on the cushion of the other chair, and spread your legs, and wait for me to attend to you.”
I did as instructed and heard William get up and walk away, either to his bedroom or bathroom. I trembled, partly with nerves and partly with sexual expectation. One minute passed, then two. I remembered what he had said about anticipation. This was my time to anticipate what lay ahead, and the sexual need within me doubled in strength. I needed what this man was about to give me. I needed him like I needed air to breathe and water to drink. I lifted my bottom just a little higher and waited to be taken to heaven.

William returned. He had changed into his black jogging pants and t-shirt. He placed something down on to the arm of the chair, but I daren’t look around. I remained absolutely still and silent. He bent over and kissed my back and ran his hand over my bottom.

“A man could go to war in defence of a body like yours, you know. You hold most men in the palm of your hand, even strict Doms such as me, and you have no idea of the power you have, do you? I don’t think I have ever met another beautiful woman who has less awareness of her beauty as you have.”

I didn’t reply. I don’t think he expected a reply. I’d heard this before, and perhaps he was right. From childhood I had never been told I was pretty and grew up with the idea that I was quite ordinary. Even after I was discovered by the modelling agency, and became one of the world’s top models, I never really believed that I was beautiful. I always thought my success was the result of a fluke, and that one day I out of the darkness banner juliette bankswould be found out and exposed as a fake. Perhaps the messages I’d heard over the years from men were at last starting to get through the barrier that I had erected around my fragile psyche.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp slap on my bottom by William’s hand. I snapped my attention back to the present. Then came another stroke. I breathed deep. I was back in the zone where I wanted to be. All I could think of was this powerful, masculine man standing behind me, raising his arm and bringing his hand sharply and crisply down, warming my flesh and lifting us both to the joyful place of sexual excitement and passion.

William gave me about twenty strokes with his hand, before stopping and reaching between my legs. He plunged two fingers into my sex. I gave a deep groan in response to the sudden intrusion. A sexual tremor went from my pussy to my brain, and back again. God, I wanted this man so badly.

“Yes, Marianne, you want me as much as I want you, don’t you?”
”I want you so badly. Please fuck me, Sir.”
He didn’t reply, but pushed me down on to the chair, so that I was kneeling on the cushion and leaning over the chair back. I felt his hard body press up behind me and he pulled down his jogging pants. He leaned over me and I could feel his breath against my neck. He took the lobe of my ear into his mouth and gently bit on it, before kissing it.

There was nothing I wanted more than to wake up every morning next to him, even if I was tied to the bedpost.

ABOUT JULIETTE

I write erotic romance as both Juliette Banks and Rachel de Vine, and love to write about sensual, romantic and erotic characters who lead interesting lives, and who often have to overcome challenges along the way. I prefer to write erotic romance, rather than straight erotica, because I am essentially a romantic person, but I also like to involve my characters in an exciting life of Dominance and submission at different levels.

I am British, love the rural life and live in a beautiful home in the middle of the rolling English countryside. I also like to travel around the world from time to time, and have visited some beautiful and exciting places on the way. I am forever grateful that I was born in a place and at a time to take advantage of the freedoms and pleasures that are still denied to many people of the world. We must never take such freedom for granted.

Contact Links:

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Kisses…

Piper

His Judgment – First Full Chapter

I thought you might like a real taste of His Judgment – so why not the first full chapter? That should give you just a hint of the heat, the thrill ride and the mystery. I hope that you’ll consider purchasing the full book. Be warned, from what a reviewer mentioned, you might need a new pair of panties after reading…

Enjoy! Don’t forget, I have a special guest on my blog tomorrow – Rachel De Vine!

SYNOPSIS

Buried inside all of us are dark desires, some we refuse to acknowledge. But we man on harleycrave…

I hunger for a powerful man, one strong enough to tame the woman inside. For highly respected attorney, Joelle Parker, the words had unleashed a hunger she could no longer control. Her days are filled with prosecuting monsters, vile men and women content on vanquishing the sanctity of innocent lives. Her nights are something else entirely. Fantasies of finding a dominating man, one who could yank away the tight confines of her conservative life, finally filter into her waking hours. Tasked with prosecuting a brutal and very political murder case, her needs are placed on hold—until a chance meeting changes everything.

Randolph ‘Craze’ Mitchell is a loner, preferring long rides on his Harley to human companionship. A man of the law, he has a difficult decision to make; whether or not to run for a seat in the State Senate. Every aspect of his life is well planned, organized and exactly what he doesn’t want. His dark desires, sexual needs encompassing kink and domination, are kept locked away. No woman can withstand his requirements. No one knows the real man or the secrets he holds. Painting is his only solace, he’s come to terms with remaining very much alone—until a vivacious woman crosses his path, daring to push aside his tightly woven shield of armor.

The two enter into a passionate and intense journey, the question of consent never far from the surface. Both crave what the other offers, as well as concern about discovery, but they can’t stay away. Every act shared pushes their respective boundaries, fulfilling their carnal needs, until reality thrusts them into the light of day—a blackmailer has surfaced. Craze is faced with a horrific choice, one that could end both of their careers. Can he use his best judgment or will he succumb to his personal demons?

Can Joelle and Craze trust each other enough to explore their needs together? Their chemistry is off the chain, is it real or just a chance encounter? Can they join together to protect each other from public scrutiny?

CHAPTER ONE

“Murderer!”

“Kill the bastard!”

“He should fry in hell for what he did!”

“He’s an innocent man!”

The screams and chanting from both sides came fast and furious. Joelle Parker took the courthouse steps two at a time, avoiding the bank of reporters, family, friends and co-workers of both the accused murderer and his victims. The mob was growing in number, the case an ugly reminder of the increasing horrific crimes in Baltimore. They were all judging her on her performance or lack thereof. Even her boss had threatened to take over, stating she wasn’t qualified to handle such a high priority case. To hell with all of them. She was damn good.

When she was safely inside, she breathed out and wiped a single bead of sweat from her forehead. She refused to be on the news, fodder for some buxom blonde who would use the fifteen minutes of fame to parlay a career on national television. Not her style.

She hurried through the checkpoints and entered the courtroom, her head held high. She was early and few people were inside. Sliding into the seat, she almost laughed as her skirt rode up her thighs from friction, exposing the tops of her thigh-highs.

She fingered the thin lace and bit her lower lip. What if everyone in the courtroom knew she was wearing a silk thong and stockings? Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to wander to the events of the night before. The BDSM club was new in town, considered hot and very exclusive. The invitation had been a scintillating surprise, a gift from one of her previous clients. She’d tossed the gilded envelope in a drawer, rejecting the offer for almost two weeks.

Joelle was the good girl, the one who had made straight As in high school and all through college and law school. She was the best friend, tutor, mentor and big sister. She was the one who followed every rule. Everyone thought of her as the girl next door, who never, ever had kinky thoughts. She’d stymied the vixen most of her life. Only two years before had she succumbed to her burning desires, frequenting several clubs in the seediest part of downtown Baltimore.

Experimentation had turned into dark cravings until the nights became days and she’d made a choice—her career or BDSM. The need for money, clothes, an expensive car and a condominium won out in the end. A girl had to eat. What a shame.

No one had any idea about the woman inside. The search for the perfect man had gone nowhere. What man could handle such complexity? She licked her ruby stained lips as she thought about the last date she’d been on. How long had it been? Oh yes, almost three years. No man held the muster, a perfect specimen of masculinity and dominance.

When the invitation had arrived, she knew she’d received a sign. However, accepting the sign had taken courage. The memory held mixed feelings. She’d gulped down a full glass of wine, held her breath and ripped open the envelope with flair. hot man with chainsWhat she couldn’t understand is how had her client, a woman who fashioned herself a Domme, seen through her thick layers of bullshit to the girl locked inside a cage? On that very night and after two additional glasses of wine, she’d accepted the invite, happy as could be. After second guessing herself, she’d cowered in front of the television watching a documentary on The History Channel. Yeah, she had balls of mush.

The night at the club had been cathartic. Freeing. She couldn’t wait to return, even considering paying the one thousand dollar joining fee. She could afford a little luxury. She could even learn to be more careful in her methods of playtime, remaining in the shadows.

Why the hell did she care? What occurred in her private life was nobody else’s business. She was an adult, a very hungry adult and allowed to play. Then again, no one, not even her best friend knew about her penchant for pain, her desire to submit to a dominant man.

Meticulously she laid out her things, preferring an iPad to traditional pen and paper. This case wasn’t going to be easy, but she was prepared, well almost. The night before had been delicious, the event going well into the night. She snickered as she envisioned the neon lights, the pulsing music and the elongated bar. The dark and foreboding club was designed for anonymity as well as security. Anyone could be exactly who they desired to be.

She checked her watch—ten minutes to spare. After court she was going to dinner with friends, then back to the club. Whether or not she’d decide to join depended on the events of the night. A bit of show and tell was in order, complete with aspects of flogging. She tingled at the thought. Perhaps she’d run into Marco again. The stud muffin had shown her the ropes, literally. She giggled and eased her hand into her shirt, fingering the top of her push-up bra, remembering the delicious details.

“Welcome to Club Noir,” the man whispered, his face hidden behind a mask. “I’m Marco, very much at your service.”

Joelle eyed the tall drink of water and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Jewel.” She certainly wasn’t going to give him her real name.

“Jewel. A beautiful gem to be kept precious. I’m honored. I know that you’re new to our club. If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you around.”

As he held out his arm, she inhaled. His exotic scent was unrecognizable, the fragrance intoxicating just like the man. Tall and broad shouldered, his muscles were carved, his body long and lean. “I’d enjoy that.” Accepting his gesture, she clung to him as he walked her through the crowded space.

“Club Noir specializes in all aspects of BDSM. We cater to our customers, indulging them in their greatest fantasy. Tell me, sweet Jewel, do you have a particular desire, a bold hunger for aspects of kink?”

“I’m not certain.” Memories of other clubs crowded her mind. Her dreams were filled with yearning for domination as well as discipline.

“Ah, I understand. You may try almost anything you can imagine, from pain to pleasure. You are a submissive, yes?” Marco asked as he led her toward a series of closed off rooms.

Joelle could feel the heat rising from the base of her neck. “How did you know?”

He stopped and took both of her hands into his. “I’m good at what I do, Jewel. I advise, provide education and assistance for novices in every aspect. Come. Allow me to show you a spanking demonstration. This will be an excellent start in your journey.”

Journey. She’d never thought of her particular proclivities as a journey, but she accepted the word. “Yes.” Spanking. She shivered, her pussy clenching. How many nights had she lain awake craving a firm hand, a man controlling her, providing harsh discipline. Her mouth watered at the thought.

“Ms. Parker. Are you ready to present your case?”

Everyone has a dirty little secret. Everyone.

“Ms. Parker. Are you with us today?”

Jolted, Joelle shook the vivid images from her mind and blinked. The man’s brusque voice reverberated in her ears. “What?” Titters and coughs floated from behind her. She jerked her head toward the sound of the voice and grimaced. How in God’s name had she missed the judge’s entrance, standing out of respect?

This was the third time she’d been caught daydreaming in the last week. She needed a vacation. Get it together. You’re a professional. “I’m sorry, Judge Thompson. I’m more than ready to present.”

Judge Thompson narrowed his eyes and frowned as he leaned over the bench. “Are you certain or would you like a recess before we begin?”

She kept her curt smile, resisting giving the man of honor her finger. Some honorable judge he was. This was a murder case and already there were bets on the fact the criminal would never see a prison term. “No more than you, Judge.” Now there were gasps coming from the courtroom. Everyone knew she was a take-no-shit kind of prosecutor, but to continually push the judge’s buttons certainly wasn’t in her best interest.

His expression blank, his mouth thin lipped, he nodded. “Then by all means get on with it.”

Rising to her feet, Joelle pressed the flats of her hands down her skirt and eased from around the desk. She faced the jury, giving them her sweetest smile. They already didn’t like her. Half believed in the innocence of the man standing trial. The other half wanted to lynch him. All twelve had already determined that she was a bitch. She could see it in their eyes.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for being here. Today I’m going to prove to you that Ronald Taylor is responsible for the death of Tracy Riley. In fact, I’m going to prove to you that he strangled her with his hands and a rope in her bedroom on the night of October twenty-sixth, two thousand sixteen. The facts will state that Mr. Taylor entered the home of the deceased with full intention of raping and murdering her. The crime itself is heinous in nature and through photographs and the evidence collected, I’ll be able to prove my case.”

Joelle paused, making eye contact with every member. They were of mixed ages, race, and sex, and she suspected sexual orientation. She and the defense team had gone through over two hundred people before twelve and an alternate could be equally decided upon. Long hours were the norm.

There wasn’t a word said or a breath sound given. Everyone was listening to her intently. She moved back toward the table where Ronald sat with his three male attorneys. Eyes darted back and forth, sweeping the room, and two of the attorneys were writing furiously. Ronald was demure in his actions, looking more like a boy scout than a calculated cold-blooded killer. Only the lead attorney seemed to dare look her in the eyes, a smirk riding his carved face.

She could oh-so eat the man for breakfast. They’d sparred on more than one occasion. Gregory Brentwood was her absolute nemesis and a man she could strangle on any given day. Today, she winked and swished her hips.

“I’m going to prove to you that this man had motive, opportunity and a plan he’d developed for killing Ms. Riley weeks before.” She walked past the judge, giving him a respectful nod then turned to face Ronald, moving to the edge of the defense table. “Brutal. Bloody. Torture.” Her nipples hardened when she enunciated the three words. They had the desired effect.

Everyone was hooked, waiting for her next spoken words. They would wait. She certainly wasn’t going to tip her hand. Not now. Not ever.

Exhaling, she slowly walked back to her chair, sitting down with the poise of a ballerina, and folded her hands. You bet Greggie baby was confused as fuck. This wasn’t her normal method of operation. Maybe a night at the club had brought out the wanton woman.

“Thank you, Ms. Parker. Mr. Brentwood. Are you ready to proceed?” Judge Thompson asked after giving her a curious look.

Joelle heard papers being shifted. She didn’t bother looking toward Gregory or his team. She didn’t care what they were going to use as a defense. She only cared about the subtle but powerful facts. Today was her day to shine.

“Thank you, your honor. I am more than ready to provide proof that Mr. Ronald Taylor is a true victim, a creation of society and the internet.” Gregory walked past her without as much as a look. He believed himself to be a powerful man.

Power. Joelle craved power in all aspects of her career. Being an assistant prosecutor had been a fascinating switch from working in corporation law and a stretch of her expertise. Baltimore had many commanding women in charge, but in the manner of the law, the old boys’ club still reigned. She sat back in her seat, swiveling her chair so that she could cross her legs. Dressed conservatively, a blue suit and crisp white men’s style shirt, her hair woven tightly in a bun, only her nine hundred dollar Manolo Blahnik stilettos offered a chance of showing the woman hidden behind the mask. Her thoughts drifted back to the incredible experience.

Marco was certainly sexy, alluding an air of prowess, yet he was neither dominant or submissive. Still, she wouldn’t mind having him as her disciplinarian. She eased her pen to her lips, placing the tip just inside. The vivid image of the man standing with his legs apart, his arms folded and her between his legs sucking his cock flashed in her mind.

She would run her hands up on the insides of his thighs, caressing as he wrapped his fingers in her hair, the gesture keeping her in place. When allowed, she would wrap one hand around his swollen testicles and the other around the base of his cock. As he commanded her to open her mouth, she’d moan in anticipation, delighting in her requirements. If she was a very good girl, drinking every last drop of his sweet cum, perhaps he’d tie her to an “X” cross, spanking her ass and legs until they were covered in welts.

“Ms. Parker!”

Joelle jumped and dropped the pen. “Sir? I mean, your Honor?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“I asked you if you’d like to cross examine the witness,” Judge Thompson stated through clenched teeth.

Cross examination? What the hell? “I’m sorry, your honor I need to…” Her words trailed off as she fumbled to figure out where they were in the case. The girl on the stand she didn’t recognize at first. She was so fucked.

“Please approach the bench.” The judge waved her forward.

Holding her breath, Joelle rose to her feet and attempted to walk in a manner that would allow her to keep her dignity. She heard a slight chuckle coming from Gregory’s mouth and she wanted to turn around and rip out his eyes. That would be sensational news at five o ‘clock. When she approached the bench, she smiled. “Your Honor?”

Judge Thompson covered up the microphone and leaned over as far as he could. “Ms. Parker. I’ve had you in my courtroom a dozen times and I’ve never seen you so absent from your duties. Is there a problem? Do you need some assistance?”

“No! I mean, no, Your Honor. I apologize. I was merely going through details of the case and lost track of time. That won’t happen again.” Lying to a judge now. Perfect. She was on the fast track to being thrown out in the street.

He raised a single eyebrow and exhaled. Ten full seconds ticked by. “Very well, but see that it doesn’t or I’ll have to hold you in contempt of court. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir! I mean Your Honor, sir.” She cringed and slunk back toward the chair, able to see the delighted expression on Gregory’s face. As she sat down, she banished the sinful thoughts to another planet. She was going to have to learn to separate the two worlds one way or the other.

At three-thirty pm on the nose, Judge Thompson called the day. Weary from the brow beating, some of her own making, Joelle shoved the iPad and pen into her briefcase, fiddling in a hope that Gregory would leave first.

He didn’t. Instead, he waited for her, standing by the defense table with his arms crossed, his eyes twinkling. “Not on your game today?”

“I’m doing just fine, thank you very much,” Joelle retorted and walked past him.

“This case is out of your league.”

While she knew the man was considered on the fast track to move into politics, she didn’t give a damn. Gregory was a bottom feeder, preying on lost souls. He had no remorse for his tactics nor did he have a conscience. She stopped short and turned. “Just try me, big boy. You might be surprised.” The words were dripping with sarcasm, almost said in a purr instead of her voice. Without waiting for a reply, she headed out of the courtroom.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Press were camped out on the courtroom steps. Vans from the various news stations were everywhere. She froze and shifted toward the left side, praying she could find a way to slink through without being detected. She loathed reporters, hated this part of her job. She simply didn’t like recognition of any type.

The crowd was huge and even though she stood taller than most of the women and men present, she wasn’t able to tell what was happening. This was her chance to skedaddle out of dodge. She clutched her briefcase and lowered her head. Suddenly the group of reporters rushed the stairs at the opposite end, heading in her direction.

No, this wasn’t going to happen. Swallowing hard, she raced down the stairs, thankful she didn’t kill herself in the four-inch heels. When she was a solid half block down the sidewalk, she turned to see if any of them had followed her. She chuckled. “Way to go, idiots.” The reporters had no desire to talk to a prosecutor with a dirty secret. They’d found some other poor, dumb fool to prey on. She laughed all the way to her car.

* * *

Randolph Mitchell, Craze to his friends, faced the near mob like group as he always did, with ease. He’d been in front of cameras his entire life and knew the reporters were merely doing their jobs. He plastered on his politician smile and waited as they jockeyed for position. He was due in court in less than thirty minutes for nothing more than a continuation. He could afford to spend time preening in front of the camera. His assistant would be proud given Mark continued to chide him on his public appearances.

“Mr. Mitchell, is it true that you have your eyes set on the White House?”

Randolph gazed down at the diminutive female reporter and slid into his charming mode. “Ms. Tanner, let’s not get the cart before the horse. I’m considering a run for Congress, but I haven’t made up my mind as of yet.” He made it a point to learn as much as he could about the influential reporters in town. They could make or break a career or a candidacy.

“When are you going to announce your decision?” the older male reporter asked, pushing his way in front of the gaggle.

“Mr. Wild, nice to see you again. I anticipate making my decision in the next three weeks. Trust me, you’ll be the first to know.” Randolph winked as the group laughed. He had them eating out of his hands.

“If you run, have you determined your platform? I know you worked hard to defend those who otherwise would not be able to afford a top-notch attorney. Every step of your career has been about making certain criminals have their day in court. How will that affect your chances?” the blonde and blue-eyed girl was swooning.

He couldn’t help but glance at her cleavage. She would drop to her knees in an instant if he asked. Unfortunately, he was through with playtime with women who could be his daughter. Besides, he appreciated intelligent conversations, spirited if at all possible. “Ms. Jones. Everyone who knows me understands that I care about what happens to the good people of Baltimore as a whole. Defending innocent people remains important to me and always will. My platform will simply be that the city and the state needs to be able to place their trust in someone, a man of honor.”

The words resonated throughout the crowd. Randolph made certain he looked into the eyes of everyone who was close. He could tell they believed him, even adored the sentiment. If they only knew about the man underneath the expensive suits and polished shoes. His persona had been groomed since he was a boy, his parents raising what they considered the perfect child. He snickered at the thought.

A few claps could be heard coming from the back. “I have time for one more question,” Randolph stated, his baritone voice cutting through the traffic below him.

A young male reporter, one Randolph had never seen before, held his hand higher than the rest. Randolph pointed in his direction. Every kid needed a start in the business. “Yes, sir. And you are?”

“Michael Trent with the Baltimore Sun.”

“Well, Michael, what is your question?”

“Do you have any skeletons in your closet?” Michael was expressionless, but his eyes were dark, almost ominous.

A single bead of sweat trickled down the back of Randolph’s neck. He cocked his head and chuckled. “Doesn’t everyone?” With the vague answer, the crowd laughed with him. However, Michael wasn’t smiling. In fact, he held an expression that said in no uncertain terms he had dirt on Randolph, a scandalous tale that Michael would use to his benefit at the worst possible time during Randolph’s political run for office.

And there was certainly enough scandal to ignite the Press.

“Thank you all for coming. I’m due in court. Have a wonderful evening.” Randolph shook the required amount of hands before entering the courtroom. Only then did he hiss under his breath. He’d have to find out what, or if, the young man had any dirt on him as well as Michael’s intentions of using the information.

* * *

Randolph took long strides down the hallway and into his office. The continuation had taken a mere ten minutes so he was back in the building before five. As he walked past his assistant, he nodded toward his office. He dumped his briefcase on the desk and went straight to his mini-bar. He loathed sparring with reporters that he didn’t know. They always had a hidden agenda.

Mark hurried into Randolph’s office. “You look pissed.”

“Close the door. I have something for you to do.” He plopped two ice cubes in a glass and poured a half glass of whiskey.

After shutting the door, Mark advanced. “Let me guess, the continuation didn’t happen.”

“Oh no. The case has been pushed back as I knew it would be. That’s not the problem.” Randolph took a swig of the liquor, savoring the flavor, before turning to face Mark. “Do you know the name Michael Trent?”

“Never heard of him. Why?”

“He’s a reporter from the Sun. Find out everything you can about him. I think we may have a digger on our hands.”

“A digger?” Mark asked as he frowned.

“As in digging into my life, my past.”

“Oh. Fantastic. I assume that means you want him shut down.”

Randolph rubbed his eyes. “I can’t shut him down. Every reporter in town will want to know why. I do want to know everything about this kid, including where he goes to eat breakfast and the woman or man he fucks. Everything. I need to know what I’m facing.”

Mark inched closer. “May I ask you what you’re worried about?”

While his assistant was completely trustworthy and a man who kept his confidences, Mark didn’t know details about his extra-curricular activities. No one did and he refused to allow anyone into his private life. “We all have secrets, some dirtier than others.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“Nothing that matters and shouldn’t to anyone, but I daresay if Mr. Trent is out to find dirt, he’ll stop at nothing to do so. Just find out what you can.”

“Of course. I’ll get started right away.” Mark turned to leave.

“Mark, I don’t mean tonight. I might be a tough taskmaster, but I’m not a slave driver. Go home. This can wait until the morning.”

“Are you certain? I’m here for you every step of the way.”

Randolph lifted his glass. “Go have a drink. Enjoy friends and family. You deserve it.”

Smiling, Mark nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He backed away toward the door. “I don’t care what anyone says about you. You’re not a tyrant.”

“Get out of here!” He laughed and shook his head. Hell yes, he was a tyrant. No wonder he’d never been able to find the right woman. Few women could handle his attitude, his intense needs and his dark requirements. As far as family? He wasn’t into afternoon cookouts and holiday get togethers. He preferred his time alone.

After Mark left, he gulped the rest of his drink and made another. Tonight, he had no appointments, either for business or pleasure. He was a free man. Huffing, he sat down at his desk and clicked on the internet. He opened the Sun Times website and searched through their files. There was one article written by Michael Trent, an article on a new corporation coming to town. The rather benign article shouldn’t have afforded the reporter time with a political candidate.

He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. What would the young man want from him? Then again, what could he find? Randolph had spent his entire life under the microscope. His father, a retired Senator from the state of Ohio, had made certain his son was educated at the most exclusive schools, receiving the best education money could buy. Randolph was used to the finer things in life: wine, clothes, cars and even women.

He was also absolutely freaking bored to death. However, he was a picture-perfect candidate for office—at least on the surface.

If anyone found out what lay hidden under the mask, his career in politics would be over. He swirled the whiskey and grinned. No one was going to uncover his secrets, no matter what he had to do.

Not even one tenacious reporter.

What do you think? I hope you enjoyed. The purchase link is at the bottom but another treat for you. Snap me a picture of your purchase of His Judgment and email to piperstonecreations@gmail.com and you’ll receive two of my other books – your choice. Not too shabby for the weekend.

Have a wonderful weekend

Piper

PURCHASE LINK

 

So What’s With All This Spanking?

Crack!

Mmm… The feel of leather as it strikes your naked skin. The anticipation beforehand, knowing you’re going to receive a hard spanking for some infraction. The way in which he looks at you before he pats his lap or tells you to crawl across the pillows, the ones strategically positioned to place your buttocks front and center.

Whoosh! Crack!

The intensity of your emotions, so raw and fresh, as they rush to the surface. You Spanking womanknow you’ve been a very bad girl and deserve your punishment. When he tells you there’s going to be thirty more you cringe, your pussy clenching. Yet you’re wet and hot, every part of your body trembling.

Pop! Slap!

The sensations rocketing through you as you try not to cry, but tears trickle past your lashes. The longing to be told you’re a good girl and he’s proud of you, even though his voice drips of disappointment.

Crack! Smack!

The moment he tells you your spanking is done, your infraction abolished and you suck in your breath as the tears continue to call. The feel of his hand rubbing you gently then pulling you into his strong arms, telling you he is indeed very proud of you. The love in your heart as you cling to him, the man who knows you best, the one you’ll always honor and obey.

Does the make believe moment give you tingles? Didn’t you see yourself there just for a second or two, your heart thumping, your breath short? I know you did because in truth, all women need to be refocused from time to time and there’s no better way than an intense spanking doled out by someone who knows you best.

How many blogs have I written about spanking and still, the subject never grows old, either for me or my readers. I chuckle at times given the rather torrid conversations about this very subject I’ve had with fellow authors. Readers gravitate toward spanking stories. They hunger to imagine the crack of a belt, the whoosh of a paddle. Hey, what better way to get a girl’s attention?

I couldn’t resist the title. Of course, I have a new book release coming out next week and you bet, spanking has a place smack in the middle. Everyone seems to be very interested in either reading about, talking about or receiving a spanking. Spanking books fly off the shelves so someone is interested in the either receiving or giving one. For couples, a little bedroom spanking certainly has been a topic of agenda at some point. What I’ve found fascinating lately is talking with men, some of which are well over fifty, who suddenly have a fascination for all things spanking and submission.

When some men read my blog or my books, I really don’t think they have any idea how to respond or what questions to ask. What I can tell you – from my point of view – is that they’re hungering to try something, anything different than what they’ve experienced pretty much the last twenty or so years. Men who looked at me initially like I was nuts suddenly have the need to spank me. Why? That may be a bit too complex to answer or there may be a very simple explanation. I had lunch with a friend and he and I got onto the subject of the kind of woman who intimidated men. Yes, he said flat out I fall into that category because of my height, the way I dress, the rather assertive – borderline aggressive personality. His words were, “most men have balls the size of peanuts” and his “clanged together”. Now, his comments were said half tongue in cheek. He’s not the kind of guy to be intimidated by a bear or gator, so a little ole filly isn’t a challenge – or so he thinks. Snicker…

He winked, leaned over the table and told me flat out that he was worth a shot in my book. (no pun intended). I adored his candor and one day, there will be his character in a book. After a deep chuckle he said something to the effect of that if a man put me over his knee and whooped my ass until it was on fire, he was a keeper. After giving him ‘that’ look, I had to think about his words Pretty much every woman wants to be taken by a man. Don’t fight me on this, ladies. You know you do. That’s where all the heroes in the romance novels come from and why they all look and act the same. They even drink the same damn liquor for God’s sake. They are men of wealth and exude power and domination in all things they do. Spanking a woman? That’s just after coffee in the morning. Wait until dinner time. The ones we vie for, hoping they’re get the girl in the end against all those stubborn odds, is the gentle, intelligent and commanding dominant force. He will take her but she’ll always be safe by his side. I know, you’re panting right now. Aren’t you?

While I’m not suggesting that spanking relationships are the wave of the future, they are making a comeback. In doing research, I’ve talked to many domestic discipline couples who were completely candid. Their relationships improved when they His Judgement 500x755entered the lifestyle. Still, every relationship takes work, commitment, love and trust so nothing is easy. But… A spanking can take the edge off so to speak.

That’s why many authors write spanking books, to provide delicious information and vivid images. Have you considered? Close your eyes and imagine.

Crack!

Have a sizzling day!

Piper

Don’t forget His Judgment is releasing from Blushing Books on August 1st!

a taste of… His Judgment

I think we all have a fascination of the law. I’m saddened by the ugly stories of cops being shot. Policemen and women should be our heroes – at least the majority of them. Just like with any breed, color, size, shape or gender – there are good people and bad people. Sadly, we concentrate on the bad, yet we celebrate the notoriety politicians and celebrities seem to mandate JUST because they think they’re all that and a bag of chips. We all have something to hide. Every. Single. One. Of. Us.His Judgement 500x755

Don’t lie. you know you do.

Sometimes good people are caught up in the political arena. They fight for what’s right as well as try to live their life as they wish. Often, they’re unable because we love to pry. We crave seeing the worst in people. Sometimes there are legitimate reasons for poking at the candidate, actor, judge, etc. Sometimes those reasons are contrived. His Judgment is just this kind of story. Two people do indeed have something to hide, but not what many believe to be so horrible. Sometimes they are simply trying to find another to care about them. Hmmm…  Coming on August 1st from Blushing Books.

HIS JUDGMENT

Buried inside all of us are dark desires, some we refuse to acknowledge. But we crave…

I hunger for a powerful man, one strong enough to tame the woman inside. For highly respected attorney, Joelle Parker, the words had unleashed a hunger she could no longer control. Her days are filled with prosecuting monsters, vile men and women content on vanquishing the sanctity of innocent lives. Her nights are something else entirely. Fantasies of finding a dominating man, one who could yank away the tight confines of her conservative life, finally filter into her waking hours. Tasked with prosecuting a brutal and very political murder case, her needs are placed on hold—until a chance meeting changes everything.

Randolph ‘Craze’ Mitchell is a loner, preferring long rides on his Harley to human companionship. A man of the law, he has a difficult decision to make; whether or not to run for a seat in the State Senate. Every aspect of his life is well planned, organized and exactly what he doesn’t want. His dark desires, sexual needs encompassing kink and domination, are kept locked away. No woman can withstand his requirements. No one knows the real man or the secrets he holds. Painting is his only solace, he’s come to terms with remaining very much alone—until a vivacious woman crosses his path, daring to push aside his tightly woven shield of armor.

The two enter into a passionate and intense journey, the question of consent never far from the surface. Both crave what the other offers, as well as concern about discovery, but they can’t stay away. Every act shared pushes their respective boundaries, fulfilling their carnal needs, until reality thrusts them into the light of day—a blackmailer has surfaced. Craze is faced with a horrific choice, one that could end both of their careers. Can he use his best judgment or will he succumb to his personal demons?

Can Joelle and Craze trust each other enough to explore their needs together? Their chemistry is off the chain, is it real or just a chance encounter? Can they join together to protect each other from public scrutiny?

EXCERPT

“Murderer!”

“Kill the bastard!”

“He should fry in hell for what he did!”

“He’s an innocent man!”

The screams and chanting from both sides came fast and furious. Joelle Parker took the courthouse steps two at a time, avoiding the bank of reporters, family, friends and co-workers of both the accused murderer and his victims. The mob was growing in number, the case an ugly reminder of the increasing horrific crimes in Baltimore. They were all judging her on her performance or lack thereof. Even her boss had threatened to take over, stating she wasn’t qualified to handle such a high priority black and white Domcase. To hell with all of them. She was damn good.

When she was safely inside, she breathed out and wiped a single bead of sweat from her forehead. She refused to be on the news, fader for some buxom blonde who would use the fifteen minutes of fame to parlay a career on National television. Not her style.

She hurried through the checkpoints and entered the courtroom, her head held high. She was early and few people were inside. Sliding into the seat, she almost laughed as her skirt rode up her thighs from friction, exposing the tops of her thigh-highs.

She fingered the thin lace and bit her lower lip. What if everyone in the courtroom knew she was wearing a silk thong and stockings? Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to wander to the events of the night before. The BDSM club was new in town, considered hot and very exclusive. The invitation had been a scintillating surprise, a gift from one of her previous clients. She’d tossed the gilded envelope in a drawer, rejecting the offer for almost two weeks.

Joelle was the good girl, the one who had made straight ‘A’s’ in high school and all through college and law school. She was the best friend, tutor, mentor and big sister. She was the one who followed every rule. Everyone thought of her as the girl next door, who never, ever had kinky thoughts. She’d stymied the vixen most of her life. Only two years before had she succumbed to her burning desires, frequenting several clubs in the seediest part of downtown Baltimore.

Experimentation had turned into dark cravings until the nights became days and she’d made a choice – her career or BDSM. The need for money, clothes, an expensive car and a condominium won out in the end. A girl had to eat. What a shame.

No one had any idea about the woman inside. The search for the perfect man had gone nowhere. What man could handle such complexity? She licked her ruby stained lips as she thought about the last date she’d been on. How long had it been? Oh yes, almost three years. No man held the muster, a perfect specimen of masculinity and dominance.

When the invitation had arrived, she knew she’d received a sign. However, accepting the sign had taken courage. The memory held mixed feelings. She’d gulped down a full glass of wine, held her breath and ripped open the envelope with flair. What she couldn’t understand is how had her client, a woman who fashioned herself a Domme, see through her thick layers of bullshit to the girl locked inside a cage? On that very night and after two additional glasses of wine, she’d accepted the invite, happy as could be. After second guessing herself, she’d cowered in front of the television watching a documentary on The History Channel. Yeah, she had balls of mush.

The night at the club had been cathartic. Freeing. She couldn’t wait to return, even considering paying the one thousand dollar joining free. She could afford a little luxury. She could even learn to be more careful in her methods of playtime, remaining in the shadows.

Why the hell did she care? What occurred in her private life was nobody else’s business. She was an adult, a very hungry adult and allowed to play. Then again, no one, not even her best friend knew about her penchant for pain, her desire to submit to a dominant man.

Meticulously she laid out her things, preferring an iPad to traditional pen and paper. This case wasn’t going to be easy, but she was prepared, well almost. The night before had been delicious, the event going well into the night. She snickered as she envisioned the neon lights, the pulsing music and the elongated bar. The dark and foreboding club was designed for anonymity as well as security. Anyone could be exactly who they desired to be.

She checked her watch – ten minutes to spare. After court she was going to dinner with friends, then back to the club. Whether or not she’d decide to join depended on the events of the night. A bit of show and tell was in order, complete with aspects of flogging. She tingled at the thought. Perhaps she’d run into Marco again. The stud muffin had shown her the ropes, literally. She giggled and eased her hand into her shirt, fingering the top of her push-up bra, remembering the delicious details.

“Welcome to Club Noir,” the man whispered, his face hidden behind a mask. “I’m Marco, very much at your service.”

Joelle eyed the tall drink of water and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Jewel.” She certainly wasn’t going to give him her real name.

“Jewel. A beautiful gem to be kept precious. I’m honored. I know that you’re new to our club. If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you around.”

As he held out his arm, she inhaled. His exotic scent was unrecognizable, the fragrance intoxicating just like the man. Tall and broad shouldered, his muscles were carved, his body long and lean. “I’d enjoy that.” Accepting his gesture, she clung to him as he walked her through the crowded space.

“Club Noir specializes in all aspects of BDSM. We cater to our customers, indulging them in their greatest fantasy. Tell me, sweet Jewel, do you have a particular desire, a bold hunger for aspects of kink?”

A Dom’s Control

I’m often asked why I write spanking, D/s and DD books. I can tell you that given the popularity, there is quite a bit of interest. I thought you’d like to read about the concept of a Dom’s control. Research is the key and the best way to do that is talking with someone who practices one of the lifestyles.

After several recent and very intense conversations about the sadism within a D/s relationship, I’ve reflected on something JP said. He’s an old friend and great man, exploring the lifestyle while trying to maintain his vanilla life. He always talks about his concern whether he is Domly enough. I have a new twitter follower, a Master, who seems to believe that being a gentlemanly Dom is the truest form of embracing the concept. One of his tweets, and I think originating from his submissive, was the if a Dom doesn’t allow his submissive to tease or to seduce him at times, then the man doesn’t understand being a true Dom. I’ve learned many aspects of the lifestyle from talking to others, which allows me to write stories with a more knowledgeable mind.

Sharing and talking, laughing about the stupidity of people, drinking, opening upwoman in blue ribbon about fears, listening to music – these are the basic elements within every couple. Why would they be any different within a D/s relationship? Why should a man hunger any less to be desired, which is exactly what happens when any women flirts, teases and leads her man down a sensuous path. This is all about the fact she desires him, and as she moves through her various phases of seduction, she’s showing him in no uncertain terms she’s famished. In need.

While I don’t practice the lifestyle, I have asked myself basic questions. If I were in a D/s relationship, how would I react? Do you think I’m any different? Well, of course not. I would readily accept, embrace and love the submissive role; however, I would want to make certain he knew he was wanted as a man. Some aspects of letting him know are all about being sexy. From Victoria’s Secret so I can match my undies to a flaming red or vibrant “stripper” fuchsia pink dress, to massages and washing his back, candles and his favorite cigar – these are all methods of seduction. They also reiterate the desire, love and devotion. Remember, Dom’s are men first, manly always. And girls, we know men need affirmation more than they care to admit.

When men feel wanted and loved, they are much more self-assured and for Dom’s, I believe they are much more likely to enjoy fully their role as Dom. They love and crave the power, the feeling of being dominant over another, while still being seen as a sexy beast. Within every D/s relationship, both the Dom and the submissive grow both independently as well as together as a couple. The Dom accepts more control, the submissive letting more go. The power exchange morphs, the two roles becoming easier to identify. My experience is that when you add in discipline, punishment and aspects of playtime, some Dom’s begin to see their level and longing for control in a different manner. Why? Garnering a taste of how amazing euphoria can be on both sides, can push the emotional state to another plane altogether.

JP always experienced a “high” after using the belt or the quirt. In talking with other submissives, they describe the experience as being magical. I realize this is somewhat difficult to explain to those who’ve never gone down this road, but pain and pleasure are a fine line. This is similar to love and hate. Whether you want to use the expressions you’ve most likely heard before – reaching subspace, or the release of endorphins, that’s what occurs. The tingling effect is left for days in our case. Raw emotions are dazzling. When you go to this incredible plateau, it’s reasonable to think both the Dom and the sub might want more.

When does this “high” move from playtime and discipline to something more extreme? When does the Dom’s need for control become compromised? These are good questions and should be addressed.

With anyone accepting the dominating role within a relationship, they have various responsibilities. They are bound by respect and a code of honor, as well as their devotion, to keep their submissive safe from harm, whether from others or within the realm of their personal training. There were very important words told to me by another Master a couple of years ago. “I will hurt you. I will not harm you.” Those words couldn’t be a truer statement if certain aspects of sadistic acts become important to the Dom. JP always called this his dark side.

His gentlemanly ways were there from day one. He’s a kind, gentle soul with a dominating force that he was never allowed to experience until recently. When you’re given the acceptance to free your soul, share the deep-seeded hungers you’ve been terrified to express your entire life, you’ll experience true freedom. This is also where the two sides mesh together so well. Deep love enables you to delve into fears and needs, desires about the darker side of kink. I think without complete love, respect and trust, no two people could be so honest to admit sadistic or masochistic needs. Why would you consider?

silver handcuffsSo many people balk, laugh at or shun with prejudice anything they don’t understand or fear. People love to admonish others, their tastes and choices. No one in their right mind would open up about something so intimate, yet a trait many see as abusive. The conversations with JP? Enlightening. Amazing. Terrifying. Powerful. Life changing. His honestly allowed me to see needs within myself. His sadistic desires aren’t extreme, merely pushing past comfort levels, tasting something completely different. Do I think his tendencies can grow, his needs increase? Of course. If you find something you enjoy, you’re going to want more. Control is vital.

I’m not just talking about controlling the amount of pain inflicted, the number of whip strikes. I’m also talking about bridging what are now three aspects of a life together. There’s the vanilla side every D/s couple will share to a degree. There’s the D/s portion involving guidance, training, following various basic rules such as how to greet the Dom, or behavioral controls. Then there’s the more sadistic side of playtime. Does this mean every aspect of his guidance within his dominating role will have a sadistic flavor?

That’s a very daunting question. I think this is what I’ve been reflecting on. He mentioned that he’s changed and his partner changed as well. Again, his frank conversations allowed me to look inside myself. Could I do this? Maybe. Perhaps writing about D/s relationships means I have a bit of submissive needs buried inside. Embracing my submissive tendencies opened my eyes to so many things, helping mold a well-rounded person.

However, I am still the ballsy, willful and very take-life-by-the-balls kind of chick, plus I’m very passionate and romantic in all those girly ways. I love candles and romantic dinners. I love sitting by a fire, reading to each other. I adore taking a shower together and giving long massages. I would want this side as well, wouldn’t you? I would also want to know my rules clearly and have a gentle Dom who administers them, knowing I’d fuck up every once in a while. While punishment is supposed to hurt, I believe everyone needs to feel safe in his measured control. Trust is vital. In other words, I would need the complete package – a passionate and thoughtful Dom who respects all sides of me so his nurturing and guidance is effective as well as controlled. Does this kind of man exist in real life? I honestly believe his does.

What do you think? Can the three sides co-exist within a D/s relationship?

I hope you enjoyed.

Kisses, spanks and happy reading

Piper