I really should have mentioned this earlier, but a new spanking romance is available on Spanking Romance dot com, as they say in the 1980′s. It’s called ‘Orphan Ivy’ and it is a romantic vampire tale I think you’ll probably enjoy. But I would say that, because I wrote it and the notion that you might not like it is therefore abhorrent and strange to me.

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.

Read a free chapter…

A little sneak peek of the romantic novella I’m working on at the moment, it’s called ‘Orphan Ivy’ and has vampires in it. I know the paranormal is a cliche these days, but there is something deliciously intoxicating about powerful undead creatures. There’s also coffee in it, which is also intoxicating and powerful, though usually not undead.

Ivy clasped her resume nervously to her chest, her clammy hands threatening to sweat through the paper. It was a hot summer’s evening and she was desperate, desperate for a job. Rent was due and the last dregs of her savings had just stretched to cover her power and phone bill. If she didn’t get a job today, she was proper fucked. After hours of tramping through town, applying at various places and being turned down at almost all of them, she arrived at a place of last resort.

‘Help Wanted’ the sign said. It hung in the window of a contemporary grungy coffee shop, one with the words ‘Coffee Wrex’ written on the awning in distressed text. The whole shop frontage had been painted black then treated so that the grain of the wood still showed through darkly. It was a vortex of sweet smelling darkness on the high street and though Ivy had never entered it herself, being far too poor to afford luxuries like coffee from a coffee store, she’d always been somehow drawn to the place.

It was dark out, but the interior of the shop was lit with a cozy glow that put Ivy in mind of candlelight. Peering through the slightly swirled glass panes of the shop door, she saw that the place was largely empty aside from a couple of customers lining up for coffee.

Help Wanted. Ivy bit her lower lip nervously. Her degree in Classical Studies hadn’t gotten her anywhere, but Ivy had seen a coffee machine once and she was pretty sure she could figure out how to use one.

She pressed open the dark door and stepped inside. It was more pleasant than she’d expected. Instead of being tacky and filthy, the wooden floors were well polished and the tables clearly saw a good wiping down fairly often. There was a slight hint of incense in the air, but it was innocuous, not like the sticks her old roommates used to light that gave her headaches.

The customers were still at the counter so she hung back, waiting patiently as the line dwindled. As she waited, her eyes were drawn to the man serving the customers and making their coffee. He was working by himself and he was probably busy, but he seemed perfectly calm and in control as he expertly drew off cup after cup of designer coffee.

He was probably in his early thirties and he had a presence that drew every eye in the place to him. Imposing, that’s what he was, Ivy thought to herself, though she couldn’t quite figure out why. He was tall, but not so tall as to be noteworthy, and though he appeared to be well built he was certainly no body builder. No, it wasn’t his physical presence that made it almost impossible for her to take her eyes off him. He was dressed simply in a short sleeved black button down shirt and black jeans. It certainly wasn’t his clothing that drew her attention either.

Maybe it was the tattoos on his right bicep. Ivy found her gaze drawn to those, they weren’t your typical tattoos of dragons and barbed wire and tribal symbols, instead they appeared to be religious in origin. A multi-limbed goddess took pride of place on the hard muscle of his bicep and Ivy found herself squinting to see it better.

The sound of the barista clearing his throat brought her eyes up to his face where she met his deep gaze. She’d been caught staring. With a barely muffled squeak she leaped back behind the last customer in front of her and did her best to pretend that nothing had happened. As the customer droned his order however, Ivy’s curiosity got the better of her and she found herself peeking around the customer to get a better sense of the man.
(more…)

My new novella is out now, now I say! What’s it about? Here’s some finely crafted blurb to whet your appetite:

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.

Read the first chapter free…

Blushing Books did an interview with me, which was super. You should read it, if such things interest you. In this interview, I mention my stabby feelings re: erotica and we sort out the fact that I don’t live in Indonesia.

Candid, talented, adaptable and prolific. Oh, and let’s not forget opinionated. These words all describe Loki Renard, who’s unabashedly, unapologetic about her full-time job of writing “solid lesbian and hetero disicplinary” romance. For this plucky author of books like Nocturne, The Rebel Princess and her popular Finn the Devourer series, the writer’s life may not be the easiest career, but that doesn’t mean she can’t find humor in it.

Read the interview…

As you’re probably well aware, on account of my having announced it everywhere, I recently started a Spanking Stories site to contain not only my works, but the works of the great many incredibly talented spanking authors out there. The site is only a week old, but already there are some wonderful spanking stories to be found there.

Buttons by Lunargirl

I feel the plug first pulled slightly, then twisted. I moan even through the gag. I thrust my backside out and toward you, arching my back. I have forgotten my fear for the moment, feeling only lust. You are working the plug slowly around and in, then back and starting all over again, my continued moaning stifled by the gag that is still in my mouth.

A Glimpse by Emma Enchanted

The first stroke takes my breath away. I want to jump up. I want to curl away from the stinging pain. Instead I straighten my legs and grasp the pillow tightly between clenched fingers. More come, each worse than the previous as the pain builds on itself. At ten I wonder how I will take even one more. I don’t quite cry as they continue to land, it takes all my concentration to stay still now. Any sane person would move. I don’t want to be sane, I want to be yours.

Newbie by Michelle Carlyle

His eyes narrowed, he nodded, his demeanor seeming almost villainous. A thrill went through her.

“You’re getting spanked tonight, girlie. Over my knee, pants down around your ankles, that fine ass of yours over my knee at my mercy.”

Her sex throbbed, her pulse jump-started. The night before, they’d discussed some of their secret fantasies, which as it turned out, dovetailed nicely with each other. But she had no idea he’d start this soon. Her knees got a bit wobbly, her hands a bit shaky. She’d always had spanking fantasies, but had been too chicken to try them out. And her last lover, her husband of ten years had been a solid dud in the sack.

The Flower and the Sun by Vixen Deb

Nick moved to hold Kelsey in his arms. She looked so cute with her bottom lip protruding the slightest bit he just couldn’t help gathering her close to him. He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin and jaw as he whispered, “Come on, Kels. Either pick or ask me to spank you.” His grip tightened as he felt her tense. His hand ran slowly down her back to cup the cool cheek of her desirable bottom. He patted softly and felt her go rigid. “Come on. One or the other.” His hand molded to her derriere and squeezed gently. He felt her quiver slightly in his arms as she took a deep breath. He held her safely and securely in his arms. He almost moaned as he felt Kelsey burrowing her forehead into his chest, hiding her face and knew she was feeling shy and maybe just a bit frightened.

You know what a lot of Western spanking romance doesn’t have? Zombies. Flora and the Dead Men fixes that problem neatly.

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.”

Read this story…