Kirk ‘Ender’ Brentwood is a hard man bound for a short life and an eternity in hell until the fates cross his path with that of Evelyn Day, the innocent young daughter of a merchant run afoul of the Russian Mob. Spirited, idealistic and beautiful, Evelyn is everything that Kirk is not.

When her father seeks to trade his daughter for a sizable debt, Kirk’s decision to protect Evelyn means that he stands to lose everything. If that weren’t bad enough, his attempts to keep her safe aren’t helped by the headstrong antics that inevitably lead her into danger. He’s going to have to find a way to make her obey him before she gets them both killed. Fortunately he has a few tricks up his sleeve – and over his lap.

Excerpt:

Kirk strode down the sidewalk, a predator amongst the people who streamed by him lost in their own existences. To most he was a man unseen, perhaps noticed for a moment, appraised favorably for his broad shoulders and long legs, and then forgotten just as promptly. His footsteps fell with a thousand other footsteps on the busy city streets as he strode towards his destination. A slight breeze caught the tip of his silk tie, but left the close-cropped, thick, black hair on his head untouched. His face was pleasant, but not model handsome. It was the sort of face that always seemed familiar. If shown a picture of him, most people would say that they’d seen him recently, perhaps in a hardware store shopping for nails, perhaps assisting customers at the self-checkout in a supermarket. If one questioned the general public, he was everywhere. He was a taxi driver, a bank manager, that guy who’d taken their parking space the other day. He was their kid’s swim coach, their ex-wife’s new boyfriend. In truth, he was none of these things. He was no-one to anyone and that was just the way he liked it.

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Regular visitors might have noticed that my zombie spanking series is rather sluggish at the moment, that’s largely because I am rather busy at the moment writing one romantic M/F novella a month for Spanking Romance. To keep motivation and quality up, something had to give. On the bright side, I do have a free series running over on Sappho’s Brats called Eventide. If you enjoy lesbian and gay spanking (and the occasional spot of M/F) then you’ll be feasting your eyes for quite some time. But back to the spanking novella at hand!

Orphan Ivy

Timid, sweet little Ivy isn’t your typical arts graduate. Sure, she’s chronically under employed and living in an over priced hovel – but that’s where her affinity with the stereotype ends rather abruptly. Unlike other twenty-somethings trying to get by, Ivy doesn’t subsist on cheap noodles and beer, she needs fresh human blood on a regular basis if she’s not to end up as a pile of ashes.

Pushed to the limits of self preservation in a modern world where even vampires need to get the rent paid, Ivy takes a job in a coffee shop. But when owner Jon spots a vampire fledgling on the brink of self destruction, he steps in, determined to lay down the law whether feisty Ivy likes it or not. The resulting battle of wills is fought on a losing battlefield for Ivy – her bare rear end.

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Terminally misbehaved apprentice Rayna is the worst thief in the world. That won’t stop her trying to gain access to the notorious Thieves Guild though, even if she has to rob every vault in the city to do it.

If she’s to survive the Thieves Guild, Rayna will have to have more than just a tough hide, she’ll need to find a way to make peace with those in power, a task that will push her feeble powers of obedience to the very limit.

Excerpt:

“Damn kid. How much trouble have you been in?” Peta swore, frowning at Rayna’s rear end as Rayna see-sawed back and forth over the stool. Lesser young ladies would have been mortified being bent over like that with their lady parts exposed, but Rayna was hardly one to be mortified, especially as she was more than accustomed to the position she found herself in. It seemed that barely a day went by that one instructor or another wasn’t finding fault with her and dragging her off to be punished.

Craning her head over her shoulder and looking in a large gilt framed mirror hanging on the wall Rayna saw her own behind displayed and looking for all the world as if someone had been running small carts across it all morning. There were a few dark lines and between them, blotchy pink red marks.

Rayna shrugged. “They like to take out their frustrations on me, what can I say?”

Peta’s eyes met hers. “Is that so. You’re simply a poor victim of the system, are you?”

“Absolutely. I never had a chance. My mother didn’t love me enough and my father never attended a single dance recital,” Rayna said in pitiful tones.

“Save it for a judge, kid,” Peta said, snorting back what might very well have been laughter. Rayna held her breath and hoped that she was being sufficiently charming. Charm was pretty much her only weapon. She was useless at climbing and swinging, and armed robbery was completely out of the question. She barely knew the pointy end of a dagger from the non pointy end and there wasn’t a single instructor still willing to teach her after one of them almost lost his ear.

“But you are the judge, Ma’am, you are the judge, jury and executioner,” Rayna said with wide, earnest eyes.

Peta’s eyes remained locked on her bottom for a long moment and Rayna felt herself begin to squirm with embarrassment. There was getting beaten and then there was just hanging about the place half clothed in front of powerful people.

“When did this happen?” Peta asked eventually.

“Uhm, some this morning,” Rayna tried to remember as best she could. “And some yesterday evening.. and some yesterday morning.. and I think maybe the day before that…”

Peta held up her hand to stop her. “I see,” she said.

Rayna held her breath. Maybe the fact that she was so marked would save her. Maybe Peta would take pity on her. Maybe she was a really nice woman after all.

“OWW!” A sudden cut of the rod across the spot where her bottom and thighs met dissuaded her of that notion.

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Excerpt:

“You’re getting mighty big for your britches, young lady,” he said, getting too close for my comfort. I pushed him in the chest with the butt of the gun.

“I’m still in em’ ain’t I?”

He shook his head at me. “I’d have ‘em around your knees if I had my ‘druthers.”

“Touch me and I’ll put a hole in you so good you don’t ever rise,” I promised him.

His hulking bulk loomed towards me, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything. I’d saved him and his little town more often than either of us could count. Grown men had run off at the sight of the hordes, but I didn’t run, wasn’t in my blood to run. If he took me to task he ran the risk of losing one of the few people left with the balls to hold the defenses.

“You wouldn’t dare, Flora,” he said, pushing my gun to the side and reaching for me. I ducked under his burly arm, just barely avoiding the grip of his big meaty hand and growled at him angrily.

“What the hell are you doing, Clay?”

He put his hands on his hips and glowered down at me like I was one of his kids. “Everybody’s had enough of your attitude, Flora. Sharp shooter or not, you’re a mouthy little madam.”

“So? What business of that is yours?”

“Well if you were married, it’d be your husband’s duty to take you down a peg or two, but you’re not married, so I reckon it falls to me.”

I brushed long strands of blonde hair out of my eyes so I could glare at him better. “What in hell’s name are you talkin’ about Clay?”

“It’s high time you got your comeuppance, young lady. You’ve been running all over town cussing and taking whatever you reckon you have a right to.”

“Hey, none of this would be here if it wasn’t for me, alright?”

“Nobody’s denying that you’re a good little shooter, but you can’t just go about the place acting as you please, Flora.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because it’ ain’t civilized, that’s why not. It ain’t proper.”

I leaned back against the rickety half wall that ran around the roof and looked at him with a mocking smirk. “So what are you plannin’ on doing, Clay? You’re going to treat me like one of your little kids? You think you’re gunna tan my hide?”

“You’re damn straight, missy.”

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In other news, the third book in the Finn series is now available on Spanking Romance. You can read the first chapter for free. Hurray! Things that are free!

Finn the Devourer: Captive

Who am I? I am the forgotten eternal. I was here at the beginning. I will be here at the end. When all else is gone, I and my kind will remain guardians over the dark rock until life springs anew.

We toil. We watch. And sometimes… we like to play.

The wonderful thing about living for a long time is that one is constantly able to enjoy the fruits of progress. Each new age brings with it a plethora of delightful new technologies and amusements that prevent the world of a devourer from growing too staid and predictable.

As I sat in the plush quarters reserved for Leo and I, I marveled once more at the prettiness of modern electronics. Thanks to my previous misadventures I literally could not remember a time before them, but I knew that I must have lived for hundreds upon hundreds of years without the benefit of next-gen gaming consoles, and I was at once horrified at the thought and eager to make up for lost game time.

I lowered the lights and took up residency on the couch as shiny, shiny colors played across the large flat screen television before me. I liked the shiny colors, they were pretty, but observing them alone was not enough. I would interact with them. I would tame them. I would ride the lightening and I would become its Mistress.

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One of Loki’s earliest works, the Miscreant and the Master has proved popular amongst fans of alternative Asian fantasy settings. That is to say, it’s a martial arts spanking story. I know. Why didn’t someone think of this before? If they did, Loki didn’t notice it. The Miscreant and the Master brings together all the fun of a reluctant young lady learning to kick ass whilst quite often getting her own ass spanked.

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Nocturne

In this tale, Loki swerves wildly off the tried and true formula for spanking romance and goes ahead and adds a touch of mild horror to the entire situation. If you’re tired of people getting spanked without the threat of slathering daemons from another dimension consuming their immortal souls, then Nocturne is the spanking e-book you’ve been waiting for.

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To Tame A Thief

To Tame a Thief is a slightly more traditional spanking tale, if by traditional spanking tale you’re talking about a modern setting in which a dominant male meets a bratty female who then spends the entire novel trying to steal his business out from under him. Ah, true romance.

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The Taming of Miss Munroe

Steampunk Victorian spanking romance (it’s actually not steampunk at all, but I like the image of leather and brass that word evokes.) This is actually a Sherlock Holmes inspired tale, not in the sense that pygmies from Melanesia murder anyone, but in the sense that the tale is narrated by the slightly portly gentleman friend of Walker, Master of Discipline as he attempts to subdue Miss Munroe to the meek and the good

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Anyway, I think you’ll enjoy this. I sure enjoyed penning it with my keyboard.

“Yea, though I have made my home in the valley of the dead, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy cup of tea and orange crème bikkie succor me,” I murmured to myself giddily as I began the 11th hour of an 8 hour shift.

I wasn’t complaining, work was quiet, cool, sterile. Absent of the living, just the way I liked it.

Finishing up the remainder of my biscuits, I washed my hands, stretched on a fresh pair of opalescent thick green rubber gloves and made my way down the rows of silent bodies shrouded in white hospital linens. My rubber soled shoes muted the sound of my steps, denying the large metal cavern the echo it craved.

Some people think that mortuaries are creepy, but they’re really no more creepy than your average garden patch and I’m no different from any avid boatanist. It’s just that instead of petunias and cabbage, I examine carbon shells as they slowly return to the stuff from which they came.

“Got another one for you, Wednesday,” the intercom on the wall crackled into life, disturbing the silence.

“Ready,” I replied briskly, pressing the little red button. I was always ready for the dead.

I heard the elevator open in the distance, and then the familiar click, clack, crunch of the gurney making its way towards me. One wheel was perpetually stuck, but nobody seemed inclined to fix it. It wasn’t anybody’s job to do so. In a small city hospital, nothing gets done unless it’s somebody’s job. I counted myself lucky that squeaky gurney wheels were about the sum total of my troubles.

It took a moment or two for the orderly, a staunch fellow who never seemed quite at ease down here in the bowels of the hospital, to arrive with the gurney.

“DOA. Jane Doe, cause of death unknown,” he said, his eyes fastened on my face, not because I’m particularly beautiful, but because focusing on the living helps people ignore death, even when it is quite literally being pushed before them just a few inches under their noses.

From the cradle to the grave we walk a tight rope above the abyss, most of us too scared to gaze into the perpetual void that accompanies us every hour. I was not afraid of death anymore, merely curious. Steve, on the other hand, still had his eyes tightly shut to his own mortality.

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