Barbarian on a leash…

The adventures of Lesbia continue!

Once Hope had departed the interior of the carriage, Ayla reached out and removed the gag from Nive’s mouth.

“I don’t think this is necessary,” she said kindly. “Once more, I must say how sorry I am you’ve been through such a traumatic experience. If it were possible to have conducted affairs more gently, we would have done so.”

Nive squirmed around to a seated position and gave Ayla her best expression of princessly refinement. “How much ransom will you be asking for?”

“No ransom,” Ayla replied. “We are not interested in returning to your father, or Iskendar for that matter.”

Nive frowned. “What use have you for a princess?”

“Fairly little,” Ayla confessed. “None, in fact.”

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How long had she known Ayla? Longer than time itself, or at least it seemed that way. Kira drove the horses on, her eyes scanning the landscape while her mind drifted to thoughts of her passenger. The witch. The one who had always been there.

Immortality was not easy.

At first it had seemed like a blessing to stay strong while others grew weak and passed, but Kira now realized it was as much a curse. The world was a very lonely place when one faced the fact that all relationships were fleeting, ardent lovers turned to old women in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Only Ayla remained constant in an ever changing world.

Kira could not stop her mind from wandering along the curves of Ayla’s body. It had been a long time since the notion of intimacy between them had been a possibility. Ayla had first seen her as nothing more than a whelp to be whipped, and then a warrior to be healed, and then, well, the passing of centuries somehow did not afford an opportunity for any physical romance.


The Trouble With Hope… (New Lesbia Chapter :D)

As the carriage pulled away and gathered speed, a dark figure appeared at the side of the road up ahead. Kira drove on, apparently unconcerned by the sudden apparition, and the carriage did not slow at all as the dark figure half-vaulted, half-scrambled up to sit next to Kira, who did not so much as bat an eyelash as the carriage was boarded.

The new passenger was a young woman with a round face, bright smile, and dark glossy hair which was cut short after the fashion of a page. She stared at Kira with a very pleased expression on her cherubic features, blue eyes brimming with pride. “There was an enemy scout,” she said. “There isn’t one any more.”

“Good,” Kira nodded, keeping her eyes on the road, scanning the path and bushes ahead for any signs of danger. One she was satisfied that they were safe for the moment, she risked a glance over at the young lady, letting her dark gaze run over her agile form. The young lady was clad in very light armor, black leather from head to toe, every bit of it sleekly oiled.

“Are you wounded?”

There was a nervous silence and a distinct aversion of those bright eyes before an answer came. “…No.”


A Pretty Princess Is In Trouble…

“She stole my clothes, you know,” Nive said, her grievances not close to being at an end. “And my jewels.”

“That is because a young lady in finery is rather distinctive,” Ayla explained. “We prefer to operate more discreetly, you understand.”

“I am never discreet. I am a pretty princess!” Nive declared proudly.

“You’re much more than that,” Ayla replied. “But we have time to discuss all that later. For now, we must move.”

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Telling tales on a warrior…

More than frightened, Nive was also thoroughly annoyed. She had been just hours from being a princess when the brutal warrior had single handedly dispatched her escort. She hadn’t known any of them, of course. They were a gift from the prince of Iskendar, but still. It was not pleasant seeing their demise, nor did she feel comfortable in the presence of the woman who caused it.

It was all completely maddening, she thought as she scrambled upright, her rear stinging from the application of the warrior’s palm. Merciful treatment, she supposed given what the woman was capable of.

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Kira Takes A Captive…

“Why are you sulking?” The toe of a dusty boot met the rump of a prisoner with relative gentleness, a nudge more than a kick.

Furious violet tinged blue eyes blazed up at the warrior in response to the stimulation of the captive’s half-covered posterior. That morning several maidservants had painstakingly dressed her in her best finery before she was conducted to her carriage. She was no longer wearing any of it. Upon capture she had been stripped of everything. The warrior had cut away her gown while she screamed in rage and taken every ring, necklace and jewel on her person.


A Girl Named Jimmy, PT 3: A Bad Mood

The slowest series ever returns with this instalment 😀 I hope you will forgive me the slowitude, I assure you I have excellent reasons for it. Parts one and two are linked at the links corresponding to the words one and two. Just FYI, as always, I may release this as a book in the future, which requires taking down posts, or not ‘finishing’ the book online, so please enjoy the journey while it lasts. Oh, and this is the serial continuation of Mature Women, so if you don’t have that book, you should totally get it.

After another therapy session which seemed interminable and thoroughly purposeless, Jimmy was free to wander the streets with her stolen little trinket in pocket.

Erin had eased up and allowed her to go out and about without someone hovering over her the whole time. That meant some small measure of freedom, which she had missed. What she hadn’t missed was how empty the streets could feel sometimes. There were plenty of people around, but she didn’t know any of them and none of them knew her either.


Jimmy glanced to her left and saw someone familiar closing at a fast pace. It was one of her friends, a bleached blonde named Terri, whose skinny, angular figure spoke more to illicit substances than good diet and exercise.

“I thought you were dead, or in jail or something,” Terri said upon reaching Jimmy’s side.

“I was or something,” Jimmy said. “Now I’m not. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, the usual. Uh, do you… have anything?” Terri waggled her eyebrows.
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Unauthorized Orgasm

A snippet from the world of Lesbia…


Om nom nom nom.


Kira looked down at the young lady whose teeth were gently nibbling at her forearm with a continuous motion which left her arm glistening with eager drool. The hard muscle of her upper thigh was likewise gleaming, but with a different moisture. The young woman’s lithe thighs were locked around Kira’s slightly raised leg, hips pumping as her bare pussy ground against Kira, taking pleasure in the unyielding tone of the warrior’s limb.

They were both naked, the broad shouldered warrior with dark fur covering the nexus between her thighs, war-toned abdominal plane and neat breasts which rose in twin rounds – and the younger, softer woman with the ample buttocks and thighs, the small breasts tipped with pink nipples, the cascading red gold hair and the fetish for biting.

“Do that as much as you like, Ada,” Kira said in kind, though stern tones. “We are not going to make love until you apologize for what you did.”

“But…” Ada lifted her big brown eyes to Kira’s gaze. “But… I… want you.”

“You don’t always get what you want,” Kira reminded her, tapping Ada’s nose with her forefinger.

Ada’s hips squirmed, the tight little bud of her clit rubbing furiously against Kira’s leg.

“If you make yourself cum, it will be the strap for you,” Kira reminded her. “Right to the offending body part.”
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Awww, Sweetest Reviews Ever!

Thank you to Sparrow and a mysterious Amazon Customer for two wonderful reviews of Clockwork Goddess 😀 As everyone who has been reading here for the last few years knows, the Chronicles of Lesbia are a passion of mine, a project which has been running for almost four years and spawned three books in that time.

Anything that goes on for that long becomes part of one’s life. The story has been a constant throughout that time, a place to go when other places weren’t always so friendly. It’s always been my hope that Lesbia might be more than just a made up fantasy land, but a refuge for those who occasionally need a world away from the world. A land where magic is real and witches rule and there’s always a spanking where one is needed.

I so appreciate everyone who got a copy, and those who left reviews, or may do so in the future, thank you!

Here are the two reviews left thus far, they are so generous and so clearly written by two people who get what these stories are about. I am deeply touched by them both.

Amazon Customer says:

Ms. Renard’s funny, intelligent use of words, as well as her excellent character development, put her ahead of many other authors of fiction, spanking/erotica, and fantasy. I have read 97% of her writings available on the internet, and will continue to do so as long as we both shall live…

Sparrow says:

This long awaited third adventure in Lesbia seems more like a prequel than a sequel to me, ending with the promise of New Beginnings in a whole new world-order for Lesbia, and further adventures for my favorite characters, Ayla and Kira. This third book in the series, with its secrets shrouded in mysteries, events directed by the most unexpected forces, and astonishing twists of fate that come without hint or warning, typical of stories by Loki Renard, kept me on the edge of my seat and unable to put it aside until the very last word. There are questions answered in this tale, and even more questions remaining, as Ayla and Kira continue their adventures in this mystical, magical, evolving place called Lesbia. I think this is a must-read primer for what is to come. I do love this series!

EDIT: Additional thanks to ‘a reader‘ for another awesome review, it’s so lovely to see people enjoying the book so much, thank you!

A Girl Named Jimmy, PT 2: A Naughty Magpie

“The world is a weird place,” Jimmy snapped. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

Mrs Thwaites did not respond immediately. She sat quietly serene and let the moment be. Jimmy was not quite so patient. She pushed out from under the table and sat up on the carpet.

“You don’t care what I do, do you? You get paid either way.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t wish to sit on the couch,” Mrs Thwaites replied. “I do wonder as to the significance of your choice, and your anger at my lack of concern.”

“I’m not angry,” Jimmy lied.
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The Third Lesbia Book Is Here!

Meet Clockwork Goddess… the third book in the popular Lesbia series. It’s out now! It’s all done! It’s ready for your eyes! Hurray! I am so happy that this is finally out, Lesbia is one of my great passions and I hope you will enjoy reuniting with Ayla and Kira in this full length novel. 😀

clockwork goddess lesbian fantasy novel loki renard

In a world where strict royal matriarchy rules, order is kept by way of public thrashings, and magic is ferreted out wherever it hides, it’s difficult for a legendary witch like Ayla to get any peace.

All she wants is a quiet life in her little forest home. But with a warrior banging at her door demanding she take care of not one but two clever miscreants, one a herbalist who prefers nudity to clothing, the other a wily intellectual whose quiet demeanor belies a volatile temperament – not to mention a civil war about to break out, Ayla is going to have to put her plans on hold.

As a young queen bears down on the witch and her friends, Ayla finds herself trying to wrangle as disparate a group of misbehaved rebels as ever took up arms. Fortunately she has the famous warrior Kira by her side, helping to impart a little discipline as fate and forces beyond any of their control put every innocent in Lesbia in danger.

To save herself and those she loves, Ayla is forced to face a past she thought she’d left behind, discover a family she never knew – and to find the indomitable strength which exists inside a frail young mortal named Vix, who matters more than anyone imagines.

Get your copy here 😀

A Girl Named Jimmy, PT 1 : An Angry Coffee Table

We begin again! This story begins more or less where Mature Women left off. I was going to wait a while, but then I decided not to. The impulsiveness works both ways!

“What are you doing?” Therapist, Mrs Thwaites appeared to be addressing an empty room. It was a very nice room, tastefully appointed with soothing decor and therapeutic tapestries, but it was not the sort of room which needed to be questioned by a therapist. Under most circumstances the questioning of the room would probably have constituted cause for some rather serious therapy in and of itself. Fortunately, Mrs Thwaites had not lost her mind, instead she was addressing her latest and most difficult client.

“Therapy.” Jimmy’s voice came from somewhere near the floor.
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