It’s been a long time since I updated this, but then again, I did warn you about that possibility. At the moment, we’re running on bottled water and the promise of candy over here. (They say the water is clean, but we’re taking extra precautions because we don’t believe that we would enjoy gastroenteritis as much as they do in the movies.)

Candy is excellent in emergencies. Add some to your emergency kit if you haven’t already done so. If you don’t have an emergency kit, make one today. Seriously. It turns out that emergencies really can happen anywhere, anytime. So we should be prepared. Very prepared. As prepared as we can be.

I think Scar is hot. I don’t care that he’s a cartoon lion.

BE PREPARED.

Now for more of this Tempus Brat story.

As Constance’s palm makes contact with your unprotected derriere, you let out a feral yowl and struggle with all the frantic violence of a cornered house cat. Your cries echo off the great stone walls of the chamber, ringing in your ears and increasing your fury. Clearly sounds such as the ones you are making are not uncommon however, for no guards rush into the chamber to protect the queen.

Unfortunately for Constance, her grip on you is not nearly as tight as it should be. To your great surprise, you actually manage to break free of her grasp and tumble off her lap and land between Constance, Kai and Rael. For a moment, all three of them stare at you with a certain amount of surprise, allowing you take advantage of their hesitation and take to your feet.

A hand reaches out to grasp you as you begin to flee, but even Rael’s strong grip is not effective it is gripping are a broken pair of pants. For a moment, you fear you’ll fall as she holds onto the seat of your jeans, but with a hopping gait, you manage to free yourself from your pants and run away, leaving a befuddled monarch holding what were once a very expensive pair of jeans.

The door to the chambers is still open from when Kai stormed through it, and though you’ve lost your pants in your bid for freedom, it hardly matters as you make your escape. You run as fast as your bare legs will take you, back through the maze of halls, ignoring the looks you get from the fine ladies and gentlemen who are still wandering about the place with all the aplomb of penguins at Mardi Gras.

The castle is great and grand and festooned with finery, but you’re no longer interested in staying there and being a slapping bag for Constance. Fortunately for you, the guards who are stationed about the halls hardly seem to view you as an entity worth paying attention to, let alone someone to be caught. They stand to bored attention as you flee the castle and burst outdoors, gasping for air.

In front of you are the cells you found yourself in earlier, but off to the side, that alluring green strip of grass that leads away from the castle and towards the town calls to you. You heed its cry, and run down it as fast as you can in your breathless state, following the thin passage down between the stone walls. So far, you seem to have made a good escape, there are no shouts following you, or pounding feet chasing you. But surely they will not allow you to escape so easily indefinitely. If you’re going to avoid being caught, you must find a way to blend in, and quickly.

As you proceed away from the castle, the stone walls get lower and lower. A few houses are now visible as you run, fine houses built near the safety of the castle, probably belonging to the nobles. In the yard of one of the houses, you see a line with clothes hung out on it – including a pair of pants that rather take your fancy.

In your normal life, you’d never dream of stealing from someone’s back yard, but these are desperate times and they call for desperate measures. You glance over your shoulder to make sure you haven’t been followed, then vault over the low stone fence into the yard, where you waste no time yanking the soft leather pants off the line and pulling them on. They’re obviously made for a man and they’re a little big, but they’re also incredibly comfortable, and the leather drawstring at the waist makes them easy to fit around your waist.

Before you can be caught committing yet another crime, you make your way out of the back yard and high tail it into the town, where the spicy scents of the bustling marketplace make your mouth water. Crowds of people bustling back and forth offer the promise of safety, but before you can dive into the crowd, a voice rings out.

“Stop!”

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This has gone too far. You’ve only just met Kai and already you’re tired of her bully tactics. Who does she think she is, barging in and threatening you? She doesn’t know who you are. You could be anybody. Anybody at all. It’s time to put an end to this before she makes your life a living hell, so you step out from behind Constance and glower at her.

“Don’t mess with me, you’ll regret it,” you promise direly, hoping your fierce expression and tone make up for the fact that you’re still doing your best to hold your pants up in one hand.

“Cade…” Constance begins to say something, but Kai cuts in.

“You better keep your eyes open, because I’m comi…”

She never gets to finish her sentence. Instead of listening to another threat, you drop your stranglehold on the waistband of your pants and swing at her as hard as you can. Moments before your fist connects with her jaw, you see the look of surprise in her eyes. She darts back quickly, but not quickly enough and you catch her on the tip of her jaw and send her spinning over onto the floor.

Your moment of triumph is short-lived however. Without your clinging hand to keep them in place, your pants have fallen to your knees, hobbling you as Constance grabs you from behind and swings you over her lap.

“We do not hit people,” she lectures you without any hint of being aware of her hypocrisy as her palm comes down hard across your panty clad cheeks.

The slap hurts, but you can’t help but feel triumphant as Kai lies on the floor with Rael attending to her. She keeps trying to get up to get at you, but Rael insists that she stay lying down, and when Rael insists something, Kai apparently obeys.

“She was threatening me,” you growl, not taking your eyes off your fallen foe.

Constance slaps your ass again, hard enough to make you yelp. “You don’t take matters into your own hands,” she lectures you.

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(Just a short one today, it’s almost 1 am and I should be in bed. For those of you who are interested, Page Three of Fixxer is now up. On a side note, I love the way the voting on this tale always surprises me. Lady Constance is more popular than ever, I see.)

You squeal in fear and dart behind Lady Constance as Kai thunders towards you, looking ready to tear you limb from limb.

“Kai, that’s quite enough.” Unlike Constance, Rael does not so much as raise her voice, yet Kai stops on a dime at the words from her queen.

“She’s got something to do with it, I know she has. She looks shifty,” Kai says suspiciously, continuing to glare at you as if you are the most disgusting, depraved sight she’s ever seen.

You glance up at Lady Constance and see that there is an amused twist to her lips as she catches your eye. Once again, you’re plunged into a warm sea of embarrassment as you clutch at your ragged waistband and blush at the look she’s giving you. You feel so very helpless, lost in a strange land, with strange customs and with hardly any pants to speak of.

“I don’t have anything to do with anything,” you protest, stepping out from behind Constance in what is quite a show of bravery. A snarl from Kai sends you skittering back behind the guard however, and brings those terrible looks of amusement back to Rael and Constance’s faces.

“Kai, treat our guest with respect,” Rael chides the feral wretch patiently.

“Sorry,” Kai mutters, casting you another filthy look under her eyelashes. She’s not sorry, you can tell. Your initial assessment was right, Kai seems thoroughly remorseless and the way she’s looking at you out of the corner of her eye sends chills down your spine. She’ll obey Rael for now, but you know that she’ll be coming after you when you’re alone as sure as you know there’s a nose on your face.

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“What shall we do with you?” The Queen’s question hangs in the air, reminding you of all you have lost in such a short time. Yesterday you would have given your right arm to move out of the little flat you share with skittering rodents and a semi-feral kitty named Dinah who delights in clawing you when you sleep, but right now, you’d give your soul to be back inside the familiar confines of those slowly mildewing four walls.

“Please Ma’am, your Majesty, I just want to go home,” you whimper pitifully

Queen Rael and Constance exchange looks. “And where is home?” Rael asks.

“420 Baker Street, Candlewick Lane, 90805,” you inform her meekly.

The resulting stares from both the Queen and her Officer are blanker than the blankest of blank things. “In America,” you add helpfully.
(more…)

Updates may be irregular over the next few weeks, I am entering a pretty busy phase and as much as I love updating this blog on a regular basis, something has to give and I prefer that it not be my sanity, or worse, my passion for spanking stories. (It is possible to run out of passion for spanking stories? Probably not. They’re like Oxygen or Hydrogen or Helium. They’re the elemental Spankium, but I digress.)

Anyway, here’s something relevant to your interests perhaps, some lesbian / domme stories from another author with the word ‘Renard’ in her pen name.

Third Rail

by Giselle Renarde

“When did I become my own rival for your affections?”

Perhaps it is a touch unusual to have a girlfriend and boyfriend both living in the same body, but Kokoro doesn’t classify her relationship with Fiona and Martin as strange. Kokoro rides the third rail, a dutifully subservient lover to both aspects of her transgendered partner’s psyche.

She goes home with Fiona at night, a transformation takes place, and she leaves the house with Martin the next morning. In between, Kokoro discovers that the dynamics of domination and submission aren’t necessarily rooted in black leather. The emotional interplay, “this game of wills,” as Fiona calls it, is a greater aphrodisiac than toy-shop trappings. Fiona is a willful Domme, even in her flowing white skirt and plain cotton panties.

Click ‘more’ to read a free excerpt.

(more…)

You shrug. If  Constance insists you’re a bard, then you guess you’re a bard.

“Fine, I am a bard. Bring me a lute and I’ll serenade you from dusk to dawn,” you promise with whimsical sarcasm.

“That would be pleasant indeed.” A new voice enters the conversation, a low, feminine voice that holds a great deal of amusement. You turn to see what can only be the queen standing at the entrance to her chambers and though you’ve already opened your mouth for another sarcastic comeback, you find yourself simply standing there wordlessly with your mouth open as you look at her.  She is everything you imagined she would be, and yet entirely different at the same time.
(more…)

You look out the window from whence Kai threw herself moments earlier. You’re not sure why Constance seems so grim about everything, Kai looks like a lot of fun. If you could toss yourself out of third floor windows without breaking your neck, you would too.

“Kai doesn’t seem very sore or sorry,” you point out mischievously.

Constance gives you a dark look. “Those without conscience very rarely seem sorry about anything until it is too late.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you shrug. Constance needs to lighten up.

She looks at you a moment or two longer and folds her arms across her chest. You have the unsettling experience of feeling like a mouse examined by a cat as her gaze pierces you.

“What do you do?” (more…)

Staring up at those big imposing doors, you feel your heart in your throat.  Constance’s expression is so serious, and she’s so stern, you can’t even imagine what the Queen must be like. What kind of a woman must rule over all these soldiers and guards and all this obvious wealth? She must be ruthless indeed, you think as half remembered history lessons come flooding back to you. Queens and Kings never did have a great reputation for mercy and kindness, did they? What if she takes a dislike to you? What if she orders you thrown into the moat? What if she orders you torn apart by wolves?

“Yes Ma’am,” you squeak, twisting the ragged edges of what was once your fly together. “I understand.”

Constance nods, apparently satisfied.  “Remember your manners,” she adds unnecessarily.

She reaches out and knocks once, twice. There is no reply. Your spirits lift for a moment, perhaps you will not have to meet the queen. They plummet again when Constance turns the great handles and opens the doors.

You find yourself ushered into a large chamber, the stone walls of which are ornately carved with all matter of sprites and daemons and other creatures you can’t begin to recognize. Large arched windows stretch from floor to ceiling and dominate the left hand wall of the chamber. There is no glass covering them, they are open to the world and through them you can see over a great city to snowy peaked purple hills in the distance. This is an open air chamber appropriate for a goddess, not a mere mortal.
(more…)

A Butt From Tempesthole

To the fine and upstanding readers who patronized Loki Renard’s store (that’s me, having a store on the Internet) and Lulu books for the purposes of obtaining my latest e-book effort, Operation Sadiemeister.

Your support is quite simply legendary and I cannot thank each and every one of you enough.  I hope you continue to enjoy both the free series and the ebooks I’ll be producing in the future. The third Rebel book is still in the works, in the meantime, I plan to continue the Spanking Story Adventure series because it’s fun and interactive and deeply improving for all concerned.

Trusting Constance like a lamb, you follow her into the innards of the castle. Here there are more guards, but they’re neater and less surly in their appearance and they’re interspersed with people wandering the halls dressed in flowing robes and tight breeches, though usually not at the same time.

All the passersby cast curious looks at you, clearly your appearance is just as outlandish to them as theirs is to you. Struggling with your butchered pants, you do your best to hold them together with one hand, knowing full well it probably looks like you’re trailing after Constance feeling yourself up.

As you and Constance proceed through the halls, winding this way and that, things gradually become more ornate and intimidating. The flagstones turn to marble floors and no longer are the walls suffered to be bare stone, instead they’re covered in tapestries depicting a variety of different scenes. Some are traditional battle scenes, complete with rampant horses and men waving swords about. Others depict robed women partaking in ceremonies that clearly involve balls of light flashing about the place. You’re so busy looking at the pictures on the wall that you don’t notice Constance has stopped. As a result, you wander absent mindedly into her rear end.

“Oops,” you mutter as you bounce off her backside. She turns and shoots you an unimpressed look.

“You will need to become more mindful of your surroundings,” she lectures you curtly.

“Yes Ma’am,” you agree. There’s no point being confrontational anymore, you’ve delivered yourself into the hands of this woman, you just have to hope she doesn’t decide to chop you up and eat you. Still, being lectured for being clumsy as if you’re a silly little kid sticks in your craw.

Looking around Constance, you see that you’re standing outside an impressive set of doors, which surely indicates that there will be something impressive on the other side.

“These are the Queen’s chambers,” Constance confirms your suspicions. “You must behave with the utmost decorum in respect for the Queen. Do you understand?”

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Quick Edit: I love the way the voting has suddenly swung hard in favor of behaving oneself. It truly is a testament to the power of a good, swift spanking. Or is it?