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?

New readers may be interested to learn that the characters and places they’re playing amongst in this ‘Choose Your Own Spanking Adventure’ series are taken from the ebooks Rebel Princess and Rebel Priestess. Rebel Princess is the first book in the series and is a full length F/F spanking novel available in ebook form from Lulu.com

Iskendar is a harsh land, especially for rebellious young women who refuse to quietly accept their place in the world. When rough urchin Kai and cosseted Priestess-to-be Lucy meet in the midst of their own personal rebellions, worlds collide.

Is their passionate attraction and the firm hand of the powerful noblewoman Rael enough to subdue them to the useful and the good? Or will their rebellion eventually tear them, and Iskendar, apart?

(29 chapters / 133 pages)

$5.99

And back to Tempus Brat…

You whimper as tears roll down your cheeks. It’s not hard to cry, you’ve been subjected to such strangeness and pain over the past few hours that the tears come entirely naturally. The spanking hurt, but being put over a strange woman’s lap and slapped hard is the least of your worries. It’s the waking up in a strange new world where nobody knows what a zipper is that has you really concerned. Either you’ve gone mad, or weirdness of an order of magnitude beyond your comprehension has taken place. You consider responding to the guard’s question with false bravado, but your nerve fails you.

“I’m sorry, I.. don’t know where I am… I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared.”

The note of genuine distress in your voice clearly touches a nerve with the guard. “There’s no need to be scared, girl,” she says reassuringly, patting your bottom lightly.
(more…)

Hello bratlings, I have something for you today. Remember Obeying Rigel? Remember the sequel series I started? It is now complete and available as an ebook download! There’s much of the material from the free series included, along with a whole lot more trouble making.

For readers new to the series, I do recommend that you read Obeying Rigel first. That is, assuming you have a fetish for continuity and things that make sense. If not, feel free to start wherever takes your fancy. It’s your life. Don’t let random authors of spanking fiction dictate how you live it.

Sadie and Rigel have settled into their one-sided polyamorous relationship, but the course of true love never did run smooth, even more so when the course of true love was pitted with well earned spankings and attempts to date other people at the same time.

As Rigel and Sadie struggle to find a balance, there’s more trouble on the horizon. Kate, good, quiet, studious Kate has discovered her brat side – and she’s about to express it with a vengeance.

Buy Operation Sadiemeister for just $3.99!

OR get it on Lulu!

Read the first chapter FREE

This was quicker than you expected, wasn’t it? Assuming I post this, and assuming you read it, this will be the second installment of this spanking series in a 24 hour period.

If you want to know the moment the blog updates, you can sign up for email updates on the side bar. That way you can be sure to get your vote in and shape the future course of the tale. It’s like snap elections, but about things you actually care about. ‘

As she raises her arm and the spanking threatens to start once more you start pleading and begging. It’s not your proudest moment, but as the pain of slaps past sears through your backside, you’ve given up all thoughts of being strong or having dignity. You just want the pain to stop.

“Please, please ma’am, no more, I can’t take it. I’m going to die if you keep hitting me,” you plead with tears in your eyes as you clutch at her leather clad leg and feel the hard muscle under her uniform.

She looks down at you. You can tell she’s doing her best to retain her stern exterior, but you’ve provided her with such amusements over the course of your short association that she’s having a hard time maintaining her professional distance.

“You’re not going to die,” she says, forcing back a smile.

“I am! I am going to die!” You insist plaintively. “You’re hitting me harder than I can take!”

The muscles in her cheeks tense for a moment as she struggles with her facial expression. “Am I now? Well, perhaps this will be a lesson to you then,” she says, bringing her hand back down in a cruel sweeping arc.

You shut your eyes and squeal bloody murder, but the next slap isn’t as harsh as the ones that proceeded it, it’s actually fairly soft. It still stings, but it doesn’t drive you to screaming desperation like the other blows did.

“Poor little baby, where have you come from to get to your age with such a tender backside?” She croons the question above you as she paddles your bottom lightly. You can’t tell if she’s mocking you outright, or if she just thinks you’re the most pathetic creature ever to walk the earth.

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As her finger brushes over your soft lips you freeze in place, too shocked to do or say anything. How dare she touch you so casually? Your heart pounds as twin spikes of outrage and unwanted arousal course through your body. She seems to have no notion of propriety when it comes to handling you.

You find some relief in the fact that her touch is in no way lecherous, rather it is matter of fact. It is the cool, professional touch of one who is accustomed to having total domain over the lives and bodies of others.

“Very strange,” the guard notes, drawing her finger away. “We will have you questioned properly after this, I believe.”

Still thoroughly shocked, you’re unable to muster a protest as she tightens the grip around your waist and lays her palm across your bare cheeks. You feel incredibly helpless as you dangle towards the floor, the warmth from her palm feeling momentarily comforting, before she draws it away and brings it down again with a heavy slap against your left cheek.

Its worse than you imagined it would be. It hurts. It hurts a great deal. It stings and it burns and no matter how you wriggle, you can’t stop the heat from settling into your flesh. She repeats the treatment on your other cheek, then again and again and you find yourself setting up a plaintive yowling as you instinctively, yet uselessly struggle against her.

“Hush, you sound like a little baby,” she says, sounding amused as she pauses to watch you wriggle about over her lap. With your backside stinging and aching after only a few slaps, you can barely contemplate what she’s going to do to you if you don’t escape her grasp somehow.

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“No! You must not remove my modesty cloth!” you shriek with all the angst you can muster. “They will stone me to death in my homeland!”

The guard looks on at your tantrum with stoic reserve as she holds you in her unyielding grip. You struggle in tempo with your tears, wondering how much she must work out to have such impressive bicep strength. Maybe she drinks protein shakes?

“And where is your homeland?” she asks.

“Transylvania,” you reply sarcastically. You shouldn’t be sarcastic. It’s the worst possible time to be sarcastic, but yet here you are, giving into the wild temptation to say something really really silly. What’s wrong with you? Maybe you need medication.

“Never heard of it, which means you’re unlikely to go back there to be stoned,” she states with impeccable logic as she draws your panties down to your knees, leaving you bared to her stony gaze. You can feel by the cool breeze on your nether regions that she can see everything the good goddess gave you. If you’ve ever been in a more embarrassing situation in your life, you can’t remember it. She hikes her knee up a little, dashing your hopes that you might maintain a little modesty throughout this ordeal and you hear her mutter something indistinguishable under her breath.

“You should know that I believe you, girl,” she says, surprising you.

“You believe me?” You crane your head around to look at her and see that her expression is incredulous in the extreme.

“Yes.” Your eyes widen as you feel her casually trace a finger across your bare, shaved mons. “This is most strange.”

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I came across that explanation on a You Tube video, presumably left there for people unable to comprehend the concept of tea being a meal and it tickled my fancy, so now it is a title for a post on my blog.

You thought that was all you were going to get, didn’t you? Silly turnips! Here is more story.

With your pants destroyed, you spontaneously channel your inner outraged fashionista. “You look like you stepped out of a bad BDSM party,” you snark.

The guard looks at you darkly and you note with some consternation that the very sharp blade is still flashing preciously close to your intimate delicates. Once again, you have spoken too rashly. When oh when will you learn not to mouth off?

“I beg your pardon?” She seems confused by what you’ve said. An opportunity has presented itself. Mustering all your brainpower, you take the chance to back-peddle quickly.
(more…)

Behold, the crossdressing Night Elf!

Where have I been lately? Well, in addition to finishing the Finn series, I’ve also completed another chapter of Ada’s Vengeance for Bethany’s Woodshed. You can read the first chapter here if you’d like.

In addition to that, I’ve also been skinning crazed dragonkin and dressing burly night elves in pretty red dresses in Azeroth. Fuck yes.

And back to our choose your own spanking story, where you’ve all managed to get yourselves into quite a bit of trouble. Who would have thunk such a thing?

You ignore the guard’s warning like you’ve ignored almost every other good piece of advice you’ve ever been given in your life and instead of being quiet as she suggested, you start kicking up one hell of a fuss, kicking, screaming, banging on the metal door with some spare manacles that happen to be fastened to the wall. You’re making so much noise, you don’t even hear it when the door slams open, but you sure feel it when you’re grabbed by the front of your hooded jersey and lifted clean off the floor by the guard, whose expression is now nothing short of fierce.

“I warned you,” she growls through clenched teeth.

You struggle in her grip, but it is futile. She is far, far stronger than you and she wastes no time in tossing you onto the thin cot you woke up on and manhandling you in a most shameful way. It soon becomes clear that she’s trying to pull your pants down, but the tight button fly and zipper seem to flummox her.
(more…)

As far as I can tell, the readers of Sappho’s Brats spend their days ripping off road signs and bouncing in and out of the cells like kangaroos on crystal meth, so I’ve taken the liberty of installing a pay phone in the lobby so you can call your parole officers.

What have I been up to whilst you’ve all be undermining society as we know it? I finished the final Finn the Devourer e-book, which can be found sometime this month on Spanking Romance, or, if things go as intended, purchase around Halloween with the first two novellas as a print book published by Blushing Publications. I’ll keep you informed on that, and where the cops are as further information comes to hand.

So, without further ado, more story for the taking.

At the news you’re going to spend the next five years laboring in some fashion, you burst into tears. What was the point of applying for all those grants and enrolling in Basket-Weaving 101 if you were just going to end up laboring like everybody else? The idea of working for the next five years fills you with such horror that your shoulders shake as your tears roll down your cheeks and you hiccup with pitiful half-sobs.

“But, I didn’t do anything!” you cry.

The guard observes you impassively. “The Queen says otherwise and the Queen does not lie.”
(more…)

Fuck yeah, you nineteen people who voted on the outcome of the last installment of my adventure spanking story. You are the grease that wheels me.

Here’s more! More!

You take a deep breath. Perhaps this guard is a foreigner, with ways different than your own.

“Yes, I’d like to make a phone call. To my lawyer,” you explain politely.

“Laywlyer?” She cocks her head to the side, like a really big, really hot dog. You feel weird about thinking about her as if she was an attractive canine, but it is too late now and can’t be helped. You must move on. Move on!
(more…)