This video has something for everyone, and happens to strongly feature my new favorite drag queen, Acid Betty!
I’ve been re-reading the first Lesbia book lately, Over Witch’s Knee. It’s been quite a while since it was published, which means reading it again is a bit like reading it for the first time in some respects. I’d forgotten just how non-fantasy so much of the dialog is for a fantasy book, and just how naughty the brats really were! I came across this scene between heroine Atrocious and the robber Rogette and of course, Ayla the Witch and Kira the warrior. I think you’ll enjoy becoming re-acquainted with them too, or this will be a pleasure if its your first time meeting these ladies 🙂
“I’ve been laid a lot of times,” Atrocious scowled. “I have!” She exclaimed a second time when she realized that everyone was looking at her with expressions of amusement and pity. “I have… I have fucked a lot of ladies.”
“Oh stop it,” Ayla said. “You must stop being so petulant, you really must. Everybody is trying to help you, Atrocious.”
“Then leave,” Atrocious said, doing her best to hide welling tears of frustration and embarrassment. “If I’m so horrible, you can all just leave. I never asked you to help me.”
Ayla took a deep breath and looked skyward for patience. “It’s not about whether you asked or not, it’s about being grateful for the sacrifices people made for you. It’s about acting like something other than a spoiled brat.”
“I am grateful!” Atrocious protested.
“Are you? Have you even thanked Kira? Or have you been too busy alternately cowering away from her then abusing her?”
There was no defense to the charges Ayla was laying, so Atrocious remained silent under the continuing onslaught.
“Mark my words,” Ayla said, her eyes so narrow they were merely slits in her beautiful face. “If she had not found you in my care, you would no longer be in one piece. You don’t deserve to be.”
Atrocious responded with defensive nonsense. “What do you want? You want me to hack my arm off?”
“What I want,” Ayla said in a hiss. “Is for you to act like a useful member of this group and not like a self centered little monster.”
Is it too soon to do a cover reveal for the next Lesbia book? I’m not actually expecting to have this out for a month or two at least, but I have the cover ready (as well as having revamped the cover for Clockwork Goddess) and that’s all very exciting for me, and perhaps for you, if you have an interest in all this.
Yesterday’s excerpt was probably a bit darker in tone than anyone was expecting, and yes, the drama is amplified in the next installment, but it’s not all unexpected assassinations and unpleasant weather. There will also be hotness and niceness and probably cake.
Without further ado, hit the ‘continue reading’ button to see the cover for the fourth Lesbia book!
If you love Lesbia, you might enjoy reading some of what I’ve been working on for the next book, which will focus on Ayla. I would say more, but that would just get in the way of the actual story and nobody needs that.
Alone in a little cottage in the middle of a very dark forest, Ayla the witch stared into the flames, her beautiful green eyes reflecting the light of the fire as she hummed a little birthday song to herself.
“Five hundred years,” she mused to herself. “Five hundred years and so many more to go.”
The truth was she was not sure that it was her five hundredth birthday. The years had long ago begun to run into one another. She had started counting in decades, then in centuries, but still they blended. Five hundred was a good round number, so she celebrated that. She had celebrated it numerous times before, with one seven hundredth birthday thrown in for good measure somewhere along the line.
Age did not seem to touch her, aside from making her hair a lighter shade of pale gold. Long strands fell to her waist, the bulk of it tied back behind her head in a long ponytail, a few escaped locks draping over her shoulder. Her gray robe was snug about her waist and loose about her breasts, their ample swelling warmed by the heat of the fire. Continue reading
As you seemed to enjoy Madame Angeline so very much, I thought I might extend her disciplinary adventures a little more…
Usually a good disciplinary session with a deserving lady would sate Madame Angeline’s appetites for a long while. Weeks, perhaps even months. However a mere three days after her visit to Penitent’s Lane, Philippa would not leave her thoughts.
Angeline decided to go shopping to take her mind off her fascination. She enjoyed dressing fashionably and a new dress was a good as a new home, she sometimes thought. Slipping into flattering fabric could change her mood immediately. So thinking, Angeline drove to her favorite boutique where she was welcomed warmly by the shop’s assistants, given a glass of champagne and liberally festooned with fine gowns.
Many times she twirled before the mirror, seeing herself in one light and then another while the assistants heaped praise upon her.
“How beautiful your figure is, Madame Angeline.”
“How long your legs are, Madame Angeline.”
“Your eyes are so beautiful in that color, Madame Angeline.”
It’s been a long time since my last post here, so I’ve written a rather long short lesbian spanking story off the cuff this evening for you to enjoy, dear readers. It is the tale of a dominant lady named Angeline who visits a London establishment providing submissive ladies to those who wish to discipline them, and a little brat named Philippa who goads the fine lady into more than just a spanking… I wrote this in an hour or so, it starts somewhat in the middle, and it won’t win any literary prizes, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 😉
“Welcome to Penitent’s Lane,” Madame Madame, lady of the house said, her smile warm with greeting as she ushered the fine lady into her establishment. “How may I help you, Madame Angeline?”
“I’m looking for the biggest brat you have,” Angeline said without bothering to pause for niceties. “I’m in the mood to give a deserving bottom a good, long, hard spanking, and I need a real brat for that purpose.”
“Of course, Madame Angeline,” the lady of the house simpered as she ushered her illustrious guest into the elegant foyer. “We have gathered all available girls for you.”
Madame Angeline looked down the line of ladies presented in a row at the bottom of a grand staircase. There were a great many women ranging in age from their late teens to their late fifties. Some wore rings in their noses, some wore sneers on their lips, others seemed quite polite and well composed, but none caught her attention. It was most frustrating, for her palm was veritably itching with the need to spank a deserving female bottom red.
“What sort of punishment were you thinking of giving?” The lady of the house interjected by way of trying to make the process a little easier.
“An over the knee hand spanking,” Angeline replied. She was a handsome woman with graying streaks in her hair and the air of an old fashioned school marm caught in a modern age. Her hair was tied back in an elegant chignon, dark brows tapering over brilliant steel eyes. Her face was full of character, a pronounced chin and jutting nose which might have made her less appealing to those who look for softness in a lady, but Angeline had a different kind of beauty, the kind which made those attuned to such things quiver at the knees. Continue reading
Hello, Sapphic Spanky readers, how are you? I have not posted much of late, which is due to a preponderance of events. Big events. Little events. Events on trains. Events on planes. Events on boats. Events with moats. I really feel as if my life has not been mine since somewhere around December 2015. But it’s almost February, which has to mean things will calm down, right? Right? Surely. A lot of what I’ve been doing is going hither and thither to sort various things and various people out, but people can’t keep falling apart forever. Or maybe that’s what life is, people falling apart in various interesting ways. Maybe life is like a puzzle which just wants to take itself apart in unique fashion.
But we must rage against entropy, and the dying of the light, and the spilling of the milk. We must keep our duct tape close, and our towels closer. We must learn the language of the heart, and inscribe the sigils of sense wherever we find a bit of clay.
What I have in mind for this year which is still relatively new, is to keep playing with Lesbia. I’m not sure that I’ll be doing the series format quite as I have in the past, but I do find that the characters, Ayla, Kira, even Atrocious still come to mind – which makes me think my work is not done there. Not yet.
I hope you’re all keeping sufficiently well, that your socks are dry, that your dishes are done, and that your cereal has not succumbed to being anything less than entirely crispy. May you fare well in your comings and your goings, and I will post again when I have a thing what I think you might enjoy using your eyes to interpret through a lexicon and internal geography which is entirely your own.
“First impressions might last,” Kira admitted. “But surely not over a hundred years. I am not that whelp you found in the forest.”
“No,” Ayla said, her green gaze travelling slowly up the length of Kira’s much matured body. “No, you are not.”
Kira looked at Ayla, felt the pull of desire for what felt like the thousandth time, and decided to no longer ignore it. She took a step forward, leaned down, slid her hand across Ayla’s cheek and tightened her fingers in the blonde strands of the hair she had long wanted to caress. Their eyes met in that pregnant moment, dark meeting light. Was that a gleam of challenge in Ayla’s eye? She was not resisting the moment, that much was certain.
“When shall we speak?”
“Now, I think,” Ayla said, her eyes locked on Kira’s. “This conversation is a very long time overdue.”
Leaving Hope to guard Nive, and Mary to converse with a daffodil, Ayla and Kira disembarked from their carriage and made their way into the main fortress.
The witch’s stronghold was a place of wonders and riches, but Kira’s eyes were not interested in any of the treasures abundantly displayed. Instead they were drawn to the sway of Ayla’s hips, the roundness of her rear displayed charmingly in the soft silk which flowed from shoulders to the floor.
Were you wondering about the current political landscape where Loki are? Would you like to know what issue is most hottest on the local agenda?
It’s been a while since I updated the site with local flavor, but that’s all about to change with this hurd hittung ernulursys.
Right now, we’re consiruuring chengeung ur fleug.
Why? I’ll let Prime Minister Juhn Kur explain why.
I’m on a roll!
But seriously, there’s another Lesbia installment waiting for anyone so bold as to click this link right here.
Sounds like Lesbia to me! There’s a fresh little installment of the series waiting now, involving Ayla the Witch and Kira the annoyed warrior and two little brats who will not be deterred from erotic exploration.
To regular readers, sorry this series isn’t as frequent as it has been in the past. Life outside Lesbia has been rather more involved because reasons, but I figure something is better than nothing, unless the something is arsenic, which this definitely isn’t.