Reflections on an Interesting Year

As so many of us do, New Year’s Eve is a time for reflections of the past year. I can tell you that it certainly didn’t end how I anticipated, nor am I in the same place as I was this time last year. In truth and for the most part, I’m glad. I’m also very grateful so many things have changed for the positive. However along with good portions of any aspect of our lives, there are negative ones. I’m not going to bemoan but so much but there are a few things to be said.


Writing books and stories over the last six years have been a Godsend for me, allowing me to push away the often difficult portions of my life. Most authors will tell you that escaping through the pages of a book is fulfilling and peaceful. No matter our demons nestledwoamn-with-champagne-small inside, the ones fighting to breach the surface, we find solace in our writing. Unfortunately the business of writing has taken an ugly turn over the last few years.

From publishing companies who suddenly refused to accept their responsibilities and pay their authors to others who made promises they couldn’t keep, the industry has far too many black marks. Then there are authors who bash others, as well as their groupies who revel in doing so, in order to achieve more success. Really? What goes around comes around folks. How about reviewers, who have no business reviewing anything period giving bad reviews based on the fact they hate the genre? The new trend to try and inflict their grammatical style to a book and words they consider errors (which often is colloquial language) and in doing so give one star reviews. This doesn’t just obtain a ‘really’ but a how dare you? Can you ever simply enjoy a book and the plot?

Authors put themselves out in their books. We use imagination, often waking up in the middle of the night, to try and entertain. Let’s face it, there’s a hell of a lot of bad shit in this world including human monsters. Books, like movies, are escapism. To have naysayers constantly nagging and biting, spewing words of hatred because of our imaginations or our words is debilitating. I’ve certainly experienced a lot of this kind of feeling this year. In fact, for the first time in years, I stopped writing for a time. You bet there are people to blame but sadly, I have to look in the mirror first. I allowed lies and deceit, assholes challenging what I write and those who simply have nothing better to do than to try and drag authors down to do just that. For a while.

No longer. I’m tired of writing for the commercialism of writing. I’m through with listening to lies and bullshit. I’m also done with working with those who are nothing better than cynics. Writers work hard. So, 2016 will bring about perhaps a different style of writing for me. That’s my choice – not based on the crap I’ve had to go through. Erotic I’ve done to death. There are few other sex scenes in any combination that I can do. D/s is still intriguing but who cares any longer? Fifty Shades might have jump-started the genre, but indianajones3the books and the movie also gave it a silent death. Everything about the stories is so wrong, but people believe everything they read, right?

I’m bored, however it’s a legitimate genre that deserves all the kudos any slick little romance or bloody horror book does. There is an art to all styles of writing. Try it folks before you quash the spirit of another author. There’s also the misnomer that writers experience everything they write about. Right. I kill people in books – you bet I do, but really folks, you think I’m out there at night, conjuring up creative methods of actually killing people? Leave that to the monsters walking our streets.

I’m award winning and best selling – whoopdy do and a Scooby treat too. Making money is something else entirely. I go back to the advice I’ve given other authors for years – write for the love of writing. Don’t listen to the critics who have nothing better to do than to bash you or your writing style. Learn your craft and enjoy the process. Whether or not lightning strikes is unknown.

I was listening to Disturbed and their song “The Light”. The line “sometimes the darkness can show you the light” is so appropriate. When you go through what you think are your darkest hours, remember there are others suffering much more than you are. All you have to do is turn on the news. It’s a sad state of our humanity right now.


People and our relationships can be wonderful or they can drive us into madness. I’ve had a bit of that too this year. I enjoy being alone much more than I did, but I still have confidence in the good of some people. Some. I also believe that there are relationships that can withstand the test of time and various difficulties. I believe strongly in a couple that I’ve developed over the last two years. Even when shadows cross over our paths, I know what’s really there, what could happen in the future. The future is a mystery, right? Enjoy the path along the way for you never know what might happen.

Bullies seem to have emerged and are the way of the world right now. If you don’t like something, bully your way to the top and you’ll eventually get what you want. People don’t like challenge and they especially don’t like confrontation. So many people are followers in this world. That’s why we have copycat killers. That’s also why so many jump on the bandwagon when there’s a lifestyle or career that goes against the grain. Let’s gang up together and make fun, see the poor soul suffer more. Sounds great, doesn’t it? That’s human nature. How sad. What did your mother actually teach you? I shudder at the thought.

What happened to caring for others, helping those in need? Yes, of course there are still incredible stories, but they are blocked out by the disgusting path some humans have chosen to take. I hope we can learn to change.

Well, enough of the soapbox. I’m not going to reflect on the negativity in the new year. In fact, I’m very much looking forward to the future. I have so many things to be thankful for including my healthy five year old Golden Retriever, MacGyver and my new little fur ball, Indiana Jones. They look at the world with only love and compassion. Every day they are Champagne and raspberrymy constant companions, showering me with unconditional love. In return, I’ve been reminded that love, friendship and kindness are the true methods to happiness, not money or clout or powerful positions.

I’ve lost a couple of amazing friends to death and despair and these incidents are additional reminders that life is too short and too precious. So on this last day of the year, I’m celebrating life and love, good friends and my little family. I’ll drink a toast or two, share some good food and listen to incredible music. I’m also writing because I am an author. No one can take that away from me. Ever.

I wish all of you the best in 2016. I’m forever changed by the adversities as well as the amazing times. I’m certain all of you are as well. Take a step back and remember those around you who make this life worth living. My wish for you all…


Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

And So the World of Indiana Jones Begins…

No, not the infamous character or movie I so loved as a young adult. I’m talking about the new Golden puppy arriving in our house tomorrow. The timing is quite honestly heartbreaking given my beloved Goldie Hawn left us on Saturday. Of course we had no idea we’d lose her so soon. She was only twelve. We simply knew that we were ready to have a furry little third, one who could continue to delight Mac and his youthful years while giving Goldie a motherly role. Things often work out differently than you often think.

Indy is a true little special breed with a gorgeous face and I can tell, a willful spirit. I hope he’ll dry the tears and give Mac a reason to keep on being the adorable dog he’s grown into being. We pick Indy up tomorrow, right after attending a funeral of a good Indy 4 plus weeksfriend and one who helped DH through his cancer – even convincing him to go to a doctor at the time. Life can be very cathartic. Don’t you think?

The picture here is of Indy at only four and a half weeks. I haven’t seen a picture since and he’ll be almost eight weeks tomorrow. I have a mommy dog’s instinct that he’ll be very wild and HUGE. I don’t mind a challenge and my guess is that he’ll rummage through the Christmas presents like a little trooper. During our sadness last night, we had to begin dog proofing the house. You know – electrical cords and making sure there are no low ornaments on the Christmas tree. There was continued sadness as we performed the task. Still, we need to protect him just like we did when Goldie and Mac arrived.

I’m quite disillusioned lately on everything from life to the world of writing. The publishing industry certainly has taken a dark turn. Writing has become more of a chore than anything and I’ve grown bored with the normal books I write – no matter how many genres I currently write in. DH suggested I write about Indy and his entrance into our lives. Perhaps penning funny and crazy little bits about him and the way he adopts his ‘rents’ will help soothe another pain. We shall see but I can tell you that I have over 4k in words written about waiting for him to come into our lives.

I never would have thought I’d have to include a death. Life like people can be very cruel. But a mommy dog I will be to the little fur ball. As far as any other writing – we’ll see. I have lots to do in real life and I’ve learned what’s important. It’s not about making money or pleasing the world. What is so vital is enjoying every day with family and friends. Maybe I’m more melancholy given the time of year. Maybe my heart is really broken. Maybe I just need a break.

I’m reminded of the first time I read the book, Marley and Me. DH actually read many of the chapters as we were cuddling Goldie – ironically enough. I laughed and cried, wished the movie would have been a little better, and genuinely experienced the story. I hope to bring Indy’s (and Mac’s story) to life and I’ll post some of the passages along with pictures as the months continue. For now I’ll just say I long to hold Indy but wish more I could bring him home to love and enjoy a bigger family – one complete with Goldie Hawn.

It’s a magical time of year. I hope you remember to be kind to those around you and if you have furry babies, take an extra dollar or five and buy a special gift. They give unconditional love without condemning or questioning your motives. They simply want to lick away your tears, give you reason to laugh and to move forward in this crazy concept of life. Indy will be another special baby, but there are many out there who need good homes. If you have it in your heart, adopt for this holiday season. You certainly won’t regret and you might find the kinder and softer side of yourself along the process.

To Indy, I raise a glass and hope for a long and healthy life. To Mac, I wish for a wonderful companion to call his friend. To all of you, I wish you Merry Christmas.

The tears continue to flow…

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Mending a Golden Retriever’s Broken Heart

It’s a sunny and very warm day here in Virginia, certainly not the norm around Christmas. Usually this would be a day of splendor, relaxing outside while the babies play. Today my heart is broken. My Golden/Sheltie mix, Goldie Hawn left us prematurely from tumors crushing her liver and gall bladder. Words cannot express how sad we are. She quickly went downhill and we were forced to make a difficult decision. While I know it was the right one, I can’t fathom the last few days. Our other baby, a Golden we named Macgyver, is suffering and looking for his buddy. He won’t eat or drink goldieripwater.

I’m also angry, filled with a dark rage. The week was destructive in several ways, forcing me to loathe people once again. I’m enraged for various continued condemnations of the fact I’m a writer. I’m furious with intolerances and ‘know it alls’. I’m ready to lash out at basic stupidity and the realization there is so much bullshit in this world. I’m mostly angry with myself and wondering if there was anything more we could have done to protect Goldie. Could we have been better parents? Could we have given her different food? Could we have prevented the terrible seizures that required daily pills? I suppose we’ll never know. What I do believe is that she came into our world for a reason and I know this little girl was a precious gift.

We were lucky enough to stop at a Food Lion in January of 2004. The holiday decorations were still up and we were stopping to get the basics for dinner. A sign located outside offered free puppies. One sweet, angelic face caught our attention. We weren’t planning on getting another dog. We had three at the time, but as fate would have it, we couldn’t resist her tiny licks and her imploring eyes. This would be the first, and at this point, the only girl dog. We had big boys. They were rough and tumble. They were all male. Then there was Goldie. Daddy dog took over. He named her Goldie Hawn because of her gorgeous coat. I’ll never forget when he came back from what was Petstuff, having purchased a purple bed and pink and purple toys. From then on she became our little princess.

Over the years she took over, wrangling and controlling her brothers. She witnessed the loss of the three and the inclusion of Mac into our lives. She kissed away our tears and always managed to look straight into our very souls. We quickly realized she was part Sheltie so her little legs kept her from running as quickly as her brothers, but that never stopped her. She took over the roost. She had my assertive personality. She wrestled through the many presents under the Christmas tree, knowing exactly which ones were hers. She knew the exact bag in which I’d purchased yet another toy – and that happened on a regular basis. Then she was able within minutes to surgically remove the squeaker and the stuffing from a tiny hole she’d created. She never tired of being nuzzled or mouthed by Mac. She never became angry with the fact others received attention. She did maneuver her way into our beds, taking over the leather sofa and always waited by the window for one of our returns. Her sweet muzzle nestled on the bay window sill will forever remain a picture in my mind.

Goldie had more than her share of challenges. Her first seizure took us by surprise. It was goldie-againMac who knew something was very off. In the middle of one night, he growled in a low hiss unlike anything he’d ever done before. Merely seconds later her furry body began to convulse. By the miracle of a good vet and pills she’d be required to take for the rest of her life, we were able to control the episodes, but not before one wretched weekend nearly three years ago. She began convulsing first every few hours, then finally every twenty minutes. We couldn’t get her help fast enough and we thought we’d lost her. The resilience of animals is amazing. She returned with a vengeance, never letting the terrible experience alter her sweet personality.

A short time after this we noticed tumors. After a few weeks, her lovely tail, her golden feathers began to die. Amputation was the only acceptable method of stopping what was growing. Our special tailless wonder never looked more beautiful.

Last year my DH went through cancer. The growth was aggressive and he was forced to be away for a week at a time for chemo for several months. When he returned from each treatment, Goldie and Mac never left his side at night. They watched over him like hawks, alerting me when things weren’t going so well. He credits their constant attention and love for helping him through the arduous ordeal. Dogs are amazing creatures. They sense when something is wrong. They knew when cars are miles away, but coming home to be with them. They lick away sadness, nuzzle to keep you sane and fight to the very end so as to not disappoint you. Goldie was no different. She didn’t want to leave us. She needed to be here. Being our support was her job and one she took seriously. She fought death like the trooper we’d always known her to be.

Yesterday was a fog for the three of us. With her gone, our attention turned to Mac. He won’t drink or eat and looks for her in and out of the house. He’s so sweet and I worry about him more now than ever. I know he’ll regroup but it’s heart breaking to see him in so much pain. All we can do is love him. I pulled out her stocking yesterday – one of two she has. The pink velour special piece was embossed with ‘princess’. I couldn’t stop crying. I’d already purchased toys for Christmas and I’m afraid to look at them now. The tears won’t stop. Oddly enough, we have another baby coming on Tuesday. Indiana Jones is another Golden. We decided it was time to bring a third baby into our lives weeks ago, never knowing this would happen to Goldie. She was only twelve. While I’m happy about our decision, the timing is horrific, or perhaps it’s not for Mac. He can’t be the only dog in the house. That we learned very early on. He thrives on companionship. Perhaps Indy will bring some joy and stop the pain. Perhaps.

When you lose a family member, and Goldie was my daughter, you are reminded very quickly of what’s important. It’s not the soulless bastards who strive to destroy lives or livelihood of mankind. It’s not money and fame, clout or personal possessions. What matters is selfless love – the kind only animals seem to know how to give. I will remain angry. I want to lash out. I need to break and smash things. I long to Goldie at endbeat my back neighbor to within an inch of her life for chaining her dog for hours outside. But I won’t. This kind of behavior won’t bring her back. All I can do is remain true to myself and my love of animals. I will say that the majority of people deserve a special place in Hell. If the meek shall inherit the earth, animals are quite possibly our only means of salvation.

Love on your children, your friends and family and light a candle for my little girl. Her passing has forever changed me. Today I’m not an author, a manager where people condemn others for creating stories or even a woman. Today, I’m just a broken-hearted mommy dog.


Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

A Service Dom for Needed Discipline

The thought is intriguing and one posed by my very good friend, Laurel Laskey. This lovely lady has seen me through some good and really wretched times – and all virtually. She’s an avid supporter, a talented author and always there to give me support. After my blog yesterday on spanking, she wrote asking if I’d ever considered a service Dom. For me, that’s someone you don’t develop a true relationship with, other than a certain amount of trust. You in a sense use each other via texting, phone calls and When only a spanking wil dosometimes various meetings to live a bit of the D/s lifestyle.

I’ve written about this before given many singles and couples go and “play” at clubs and different groups. I honestly don’t think I could do this. I’ve had plenty of offers, don’t get me wrong, but as I mentioned in an earlier blog, I’m into the mental aspect of submitting as much as the physical. I just can’t do that with a basic acquaintance. Still, I’m certain it works well for others. I laughed though because a sexy idea came to me in the middle of the night a couple weeks ago. There are some women (and men too) who thrive on discipline. I’ve written about this many times. The basic release of tension, perhaps allowing yourself to cry, is cathartic. What if you did indeed hire someone?

Of course as you can imagine, writing a story with this concept has to have a few twists and turns. For the majority of my readers, they want a HEA (Happy Ever After). Hiring someone to take care of discipline needs doesn’t necessarily lead to a romantic and passionate relationship. Or can it? There are various Doms/Dommes splashed all over the Internet in which they offer punishments for a price. They come to you, wherever you are and provide this service. Their methods of providing discipline is professional, unbiased and there are certainly no attachments made. As long as you have the money and the time, you can get your bottom blistered to your heart’s desire.

Sounds kinky? Weird? There are plenty of people who engage. The business seems to be growing in leaps and bounds. There are a whole lot of us who need the release only a hard spanking can give. So my little piece, with a twist of course, is well under way. I thought you’d like a small taste of 1-800-SPANKX. Let me know what you think.

“Interesting. You’re blushing just like you do every time our illustrious boss is anywhere near you. I think you might just have a bit of a crush on the man in charge.” Briana reared back in a fit of giggles.

Cassie tossed a pen in her direction. “Very funny. He’s an arrogant ass with an attitude and… Shit! I mean he’s a busy guy and not my type.”

“Honey, you can say anything you want around me. Get up. We’re going to lunch.”

“No can do.” There was no way she was going to any event with Dillon involved. None. Zero.

Briana placed her hands on her hips. “Fine. Be that way, but you owe me. We’re going out Friday night. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“If I still have a job after Friday, you’re on.”

“Party pooper.”

Cassie waited until Briana left her office then eased nonchalantly out of her chair and closed the door. Exhaling, she closed her eyes briefly and counted to five. She could use a little privacy. A cold shiver trickled down her spine. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about John in at least a couple of weeks. There was no need to. He was the past. He would never be allowed back in life. He was… Wonderful. Sexy. Perfect. “No, he’s an asshole.” He’d opened up her world, dragging the shy girl from her shell and introducing her to kinky aspects involving submission and spanking. Then he’d found himself a younger version, one with bigger tits.

She growled and walked to the window. Even the beautiful view couldn’t drag her out of her doldrums. She was a lost puppy without John and his staunch requirements, rules he’s imposed after only a week of dating. Infractions resulted in spankings and corner time. Palming the glass, she thought about how much she’d blossomed under his tutelage. Now Submitting classyshe had no one and no rules to follow. Good riddance.

If only she believed. She longed for a strong man in her life and strict obedience. What she needed was a hard spanking. “What am I saying? You are a strong woman. You don’t need a man to fulfill you.” The mantra said far too many times, she desperately wanted to accept her new life. Maybe a night out on the town would help. First things first. She had work to do.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the small refrigerator, she sat back down, determined to finish a rough draft today.

Ten minutes later and she slapped her hand on top of her desk. She’d typed a single sentence and it was crap. What in the world was she going to do? Shopping. Purchasing a few panties or a teddy from Victoria’s Secret used to work. She hadn’t used her credit card since her move. Today was the perfect time for a treat.

She shot a look at the door and clicked on Internet Explorer, typing in Google. Her fingers hovered over the keys. Hitting the ‘V’, she hesitated as an idea hit her. A single bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. Why was she so nervous? She glanced over her shoulder then typed in ‘spanking’. Instantly her screen filled with numerous titles, blogs and forums, porn videos and various sites listed for disciplinary needs.

Two more drops of perspiration slid down from her forehead. She wiped them furiously and bit her lower lip. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Looking at porn sites on company time and on her employer’s computer equipment was a sure fire way of getting herself fired. Well, she wasn’t actually looking at porn, just at Google. There was no harm in scrolling.

Cassie hummed as she looked at first page then a second. By the time she was on page 8 she’d grown antsy. There was nothing appealing. What did she think she’d find anyway? About to give up, she decided on looking at one final page. “What the…” 1-888-SPANKSX. The single sentence underneath the listing was intriguing. One stop shopping for a disciplinarian in your area. She’d heard of such things, but had never explored the option. She hadn’t needed to. Until now.

“Bad girl,” she whispered. This was ridiculous. Besides the fact she certainly would never consider hiring a stranger to spank her, let alone could afford such a service, Montana certainly couldn’t be prime BDSM territory. Still, the concept was far too tasty. “Just a look.” A simple click took her to an elaborate website, vivid in color.

She laughed out loud and clicked out then selected the link again. After another darted look toward the door, she read the single paragraph that promised to find the ‘right disciplinarian in your area for a reasonable price’. There was nothing but a single drop down box. “Find one in your state. Right.” She wrinkled her nose, took a gulp of water and slid her mouse on the pad.


As she scrolled down the list she grew excited. Her pussy tingled with longing as she thought about the last time John had spanked her. The passionate night had been a single day before she’d discovered him in his office, and he hadn’t been alone. The girl was between his legs, sucking his cock while he was on a conference call. The scene was one she’d never forget. The temper tantrum she’d thrown would be a story his entire staff would tell for years to come.


“What?” She jerked up to the edge of her seat and couldn’t resist. There it was. There were several listed in Montana, including the Missoula. This had to be fate. There was no additional information, only a number to call and a Members Only box. She scribbled down the series of digits in red ink. This was borderline insane behavior. She was out of her mind. Go for it. What do you have to lose? It’s a phone call. The little jabbing voice seemed to ring in her ears.

She tugged her cell phone out of her purse and fingered the screen. There was no harm in finding out information. This wouldn’t mean a commitment. They didn’t have to know who she was. Or how desperate you are. “Ugh.” Against her better judgment, she dialed Taking down her pantiesthe number.

“Thank you for calling Spanksx. This is Marty. How may I assist you today?”

The feminine voice was pleasant enough, very businesslike. “Um, I’m not sure why I’m calling.”

“Are you inquiring about a punishment expert?” Marty asked. There was no condemnation in her voice, merely a professional tone.

“I’m not certain.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me which state you live in then we’ll go from there.”

“Montana,” Cassie blurted out, regretting her stupid spontaneity.

“Excellent. And the city?”

“Missoula.” The word was little more than a whisper.

“Fabulous place. I used to live there. Let’s see what we have.”

Cassie shrunk in her chair. Nausea crept into her stomach, bile rising into her throat. She was going to throw up.

“We have six that are close enough. Would you prefer a man or a woman?”


Marty exhaled. “Would you prefer a male or female disciplinarian?”

Cassie hesitated.

We will see where this goes…

Kisses and spanks…


Posted in BDSM, Domestic Discipline, Domination and submission, Spanking | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Holiday Maintenance Spankings

It’s been a little while since I’ve posted. There’s a lot going on in my life, including pretty heady stress. The job is killing me. It’s daunting to say the least. New positions being created, new staff, retraining staff, extra hours… Well, you know what this can lead to – bouts of frustration, anger and tears. Yep. That’s me right about Submitting another over his kneenow.

I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been a bit over the top with my staff. I’ve cried several times. This doesn’t bode well for running a corporation. What do I need? A hard spanking. I have to laugh in thinking about this because just a few years ago I wouldn’t have even thought about the concept. Why would an adult need to be spanked for being in a foul mood? What I’ve learned is that there are many ways to release tension, but most of them aren’t good for body or soul, let alone the people around you. Normally calm people can explode for seemingly no reason.

So imagine the scenario. You come home after a long and exhausting day. You’re snarky, snippy and nothing your partner has done is right the moment you come in through the door on a Friday evening. You toss your bags, grumbling about everything under the sun, and immediately pour a tall alcoholic beverage. In the next several minutes, you pick an argument about the dirty kitchen, the fact you have to go to a holiday event and pretty much everything else. This tends to lead to a full-blown and very nasty yelling match between you and your spouse. Maybe you have dinner or maybe you just drink the night away, falling into a non-restful slumber only to awaken in the same mood. Don’t you see yourself in this? I can certainly envision the remainder of the weekend. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun to me.

For those involved in a domestic discipline or D/s relationship, this kind of behavior would never be allowed. The concept of stopping or curtailing such ridiculous emotional outbursts isn’t about punishment for the most part. It’s about love and the necessity of respect. Women do tend to be a bit more emotional and prone to falling into sadness or even depression, especially at the holidays. We’re all taxed, attempting to take on the world. We’re super women at work, at home and with family and friends. We worry about the perfect gifts, the holiday decorations and dinners we must prepare for family. We frustrate over the way our children or pets seem to be even more high-spirited, vying for our full attention. There are extra hours, long nights, additional duties and every single moment leads to utter disorganization. What women need is a solid and heartfelt release. Of course men do as well. What I can tell you is that men who are HOH (Head of Household) find release in spanking their spouse or significant other. I never realized this until my conversations with John Patrick. He told me on more than one occasion that turning me over his knee or when he out his belt, he felt a sense of peace enveloping his very soul.

I know you might find this hard to believe, but he was adamant that spanking me was cathartic for him. He knew when I needed strict discipline and for him, the realization of my need to submit, his need to control and the closeness we felt was highly emotional for both of us. Let’s imagine the Friday night scenario again.

You come home, drop your things, reach for a drink and start in on the arguments. Your loving spouse allows you the few minutes to spew as he remains quietly in the dim lighting, sipping on a drink. Then he emerges from the shadows, giving a look of confidence and determination while he takes the drink out of your hand and gives you a hug. You shudder knowing what is going to occur next but melt into his arms. As he rubs your back, telling you that bad behavior won’t be tolerated, you close your eyes, tears slipping past your lashes. In a soothing voice, he explains how much he loves you and that everything will be all right. Minutes later you take his direction, going to the bedroom to remove your clothes and stand in the corner. You begin contemplating the week, the level Submitting Pulling her pantiesof worry and fear you have about making everything work just the way you want. You enter into a calm space, realizing you aren’t super woman. When he finally comes into the bedroom, placing pillows in the middle of the bed, anxiety and anticipation becomes a slice of fear, but you’re ready for the discipline you so need.

He instructs you to lie across the pillow with your arms over your head. In what seems like hours, but is truly only seconds, he places his hand on your back, stroking lightly. You can hear the sound of him removing his belt, the way the stiff leather pops past the various loops in his pants. You’re terrified but longing to get your punishment over with.


The first strike draws your body up from the bed, an anguished cry pushing past your lips.

Whoosh! Slap!

The second and third are placed directly on your sit spot and tears spring to your eyes.

Crack! Whack! Slap! Pop!

He directs the spanking evenly across your bottom and the tops of your thighs. You cringe as your fingers dig into the comforter, trying to be a good girl. After a solid ten strikes, he stops and caresses your skin. “Good girl.” His deep voice resonates in your ears. You wiggle, your hand moving to try and stop any additional discipline. But it continues.

Whack! Pop!

Ten more are issued and suddenly you lie still. Your buttocks are on fire but there’s a sense of relief and you float into a quiet blanket of peace.

Crack! Slap!

Ten more and every part of your body is tingling. The pain is extreme and you begin to sob. Relief flows and tension eases. You no longer struggle, merely lying quietly as the tears flow.

Whoosh! Slap!

The sound of the belt swinging through the air is the only thing you can concentrate on. You pant as the tears rush from your eyes, the soft material now soaked with wetness. Every part of your body is tingling. The touch of his hand, kneading the small of your back is comforting. You know he loves you, wants the best for you. Another ten strikes of the belt and you’re wet all over, goose bumps popping along every inch of your naked skin. Then he tells you only ten more. You squeeze your eyes shut and remain in position – just as he requires.

When the last second of the belt, the last strike is finished, you know he’s now sitting on after the spankthe bed and you sob openly, crying until you gasp. Then he gathers you into his arms, holding and caressing while you calm down. He kisses the tears away as he strokes your hair, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your mouth. As he helps you off the bed, guiding you back into the corner for “think time”, you feel nothing but love and complete peace.

Can you imagine how much better the weekend is going to be?

Spankings. They are something I honestly believe should be a part of a couple’s routine. I know for me, the rather intense woman, I thrive and learn to let go when I’ve received a hard spanking. What do you think? Is this something that might just help ease the holiday blues? This might not be for everyone, but you might want to ponder the aspect, perhaps asking your husband or partner for a change in your relationship. Hmmm…

I hope you’ve enjoyed.

Kisses and spanks…


Posted in Domestic Discipline, Domination and submission, Spanking | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Darkness Veiled Across a Scarlet Moon…Death

Death. Evil. Destruction. Murder. Curse. Werewolf. Do any of these words terrify you? For me, the dark and rather ominous child who grew into a flesh eating woman (in books of course), they fascinate me. I am drawn to the world of good versus evil. I’ve always been. I quite frank can’t stand the HEA where the hero and heroine ride off into the sunset, their golden retriever following like a good little soldier. Somewhere in there a white picket fence will appear. The scene, the setting, the sickeningly sweet version of life makes me nauseous.

If you hard in a darkness lurking our heroine, one that will eat them both alive, then you might picque my interest. Well, now that you know my dirty little secret, how about a terrifying tale on this All Hallow’s Eve? Is there a better time to bring you a dark curse set in the Bayou, three werewolf brothers, one human woman hell bent on solving a case, and a sinister red moon. Now what could be better? Tasty in my opinion. Something I can take a bite out of… Oh but I digress… Enjoy one of my favorite pieces.


Death. You’re already dead.

The words had remained in Scarlet’s mind since the horrific nightmare. The ugly images of torture and dismemberment she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind. Scarlet Dumane was drawn to the edge of the forest, could swear she’d heard a hoarse whisper. Swallowing hard she knew instinctively a wicked storm was kicking into high gear. The air was charge with current, unlike anything she’d ever felt hung thick in the air, humidity off the charts. red moonShe squinted and scanned the tree lines. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and goose bumps popped all along her arms. There was no doubt she was being watched. “Who are you?”

She could have sworn she heard a single growl coming from the shadows. Refusing to be terrified, she lifted her chin in defiance. She snarled hearing the clattering of the house phone just inside the door. Who in the world could be calling her now? Everyone in town knew her grandmother had died and her work would only use her cell phone number. The interruption had to be a sales call. Her nerves on edge, she was already having difficulty concentrating. Sales jerks she didn’t need to add to the mx. Well she was ready for their asses.

Panting, she glared at the ringing phone and hissed. This day was turning out to be a pain in the ass. Her lack of decent sleep wasn’t helping her mood or her motivation. “Damn it.” She managed to drop the wet bag of groceries onto the small hall table and grab the phone on the forth ring. “Scarlet Dumane.” A loud clap of thunder forced a screech to erupt from her mouth. “Shit! Hello?” Through the crackling of the phone lines she could swear she could hear someone breathing. “Hello?”

“If ya know what’s good for ya, you’ll get out before ya end up dead.” The sinister male voice reverberated through the phone.

She was used to her share of innocuous threats given her profession as a crime reporter in the bowels of Chicago. For some reason there was something about his ominous tone that rattled her. Maybe the dream was making her anxious. Either way, she refused to succumb to bullshit or fear. “Excuse me you asshole? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Hang up. But she didn’t. Instead, she egged him on. “Who the hell are you, you freak?” If there was one thing she hated, it was an asshole hiding behind phone or Internet lines.

“You heard me. We don’t want your kind here.”

“My kind? Just what kind is that?” Okay this wasn’t going to be accepted.

Exhaling slowly, he dropped the level of his voice. The tone that remained was guttural and very threatening. “You heard me. If you don’t leave, you’ll end up like the rest of them. We don’t want you here.”

“Is that a threat buddy? You cock…shit!” Realizing he’d hung up, she slammed down the receiver resisting the urge to rip the phone out of the wall. God knows she had no idea if her cell phone would work all the way out in the boondocks. The ancient push-button Scarlet Darknessphone was stained and worn, and she wanted to rip the plastic piece out of the wall but was afraid she’d actually need it one day.

Another sharp clap of thunder followed by a too-close sizzle of lightening reminded her that she needed to get the rest of the groceries in before the raging storm hit.

“Ah!” Crap. Crap. Crap.

Racing outside, Scarlet snagged the two bags of groceries just as the skies opened up. She couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at the trees and could swear she saw a pair of glowing golden eyes staring back at her. You’ve been reading too many horror stories. Scarlet dashed inside as the screen door slapped her in the ass and headed for the back of the house. Her skin remained covered in goose bumps. “Whew!” She stood for a second and sucked in her breath. No asshole was going to bully her. After a hard clap of thunder echoed in the sky, she realized she was dripping wet and the air was stifling.

It was hot as hell inside the house. Turning on the kitchen light, the dull fluorescent bulb accentuated the drab space, dingy from years of neglect. Her grandmother certainly hadn’t updated much in the place over the years. She set the bags down and moved back to grab the other one from the hall. Why she hadn’t left earlier she didn’t know. The term ‘dumbass’ floated in her brain. It had been a long drive and she was exhausted.

Scarlet thought about the call and tried to put his ugly voice out of her mind. Her grandmother’s house was nestled smack in the middle of Bayou country after all. In the various discussions she’d had with her grandmother over the last few years before her death, Scarlet had heard all about how suspicious the entire town was of strangers. Sighing, Scarlet tugged her iPod and travel speakers from her bag, clearing a space on the counter. As the soft strains of Kenny G floated into the room masking at least some of the raging storm, she willed her rattled nerves to calm down. Thoughts about the sound in the trees bothered her more than the jerk on the phone. She was no one. Why was she being watched?

Opening a bottle of wine, she hummed softly as she put the groceries away, thankful the electricity hadn’t been turned off. Her grandmother’s death hadn’t surprised anyone, but Scarlet hadn’t anticipated being the one to deal with her grandmother’s estate. As she poured a hefty glass of wine, Scarlet knew why her family refused to have anything to do with her grandmother. Viola Dumane believed in the occult and voodoo, carrying her beliefs to the grave. Glancing around the perimeter of the stuffy space, Scarlet realized it was going to take her the entire four weeks of her leave of absence to deal with getting the house ready to sell. Thank God her boss was a wonderful soul.

So many thoughts milled about in the back of her mind. Worried about the unknown, Shannon put the rest of the groceries away and stood back gazing at her surroundings. Her grandmother had obviously thrown little away over the years. Clutter was everywhere. Hard work she was used to, but this was going to take some serious effort. Still, if she sold the house for a decent amount of money she’d have a tidy little nest egg.

Crack! Slam!

“Fuck!” Screeching, she gazed out the kitchen window as the trees swayed back and forth. Her grandmother’s home was surrounded by hundred-plus-year-old trees and Scarlet realized just how isolated the setting was. Too many thoughts about voodoo and creatures of the night rattled her brain. The realization made her shiver to her core. The blackened sky was swirling with dense clouds and the rain pelted against the side of the house, pinging off the aluminum trim. Scarlet laughed softly, chastising her silly fears. Grabbing her wine, she moved back toward the front of the house. It was time to look around.

As the phone rang again, she shook her head. Should she not answer it? No, being afraid of anything wasn’t like her. She was tenacious and sometimes bulldozed into situations blindly. Her relentless balls were one reason she got the best and the worst of stories in a crime-riddled town. Chuckling, she put on her singsong voice as she answered the phone. “Hello. How in the world can I help you, sugar?”

Heavy breathing was followed by a husky chuckle.

“Hey sexy. You want to come over here so we can perhaps take a tumble? I like my men all Black wolfdark and dangerous. Yummy. I might just find your small cock somewhere. Might.”

“Hmmm… Be careful Scarlet Dumane because we know where you live. We know who you are and what you are. More importantly, we know what we need to do.”

“What you need to do? Look… Shit.” As the receiver went dead, a trickle of fear raced down her spine. It was one thing to have a mysterious caller, but for him to know her name and to use the term “we” meant she was being watched. She swallowed hard and placed the receiver back into the cradle. Gliding toward the entryway, she closed the door, locked the deadbolt and turned around. What had she dropped into the middle of?


The wind whipped around her as she moved into the shadows, the full moon allowing her to see the ragged terrain crisscrossing her path. She was being hunted, pushed deeper into the forest. A quick look at the glowing orb reminded her why they were in this predicament. The warm red hue wasn’t easily seen, but she knew. They all knew. The time was near, the moment when all of them would be judged. She should be terrified of the unknown, but she was exhilarated by the possibilities. The future wasn’t set in stone. What the wretched men couldn’t understand was how comfortable she was in the protection of the trees. She slowed by a stream, her throat parched. As she lowered her head, the luminescent light sparkled against the rippling water, illuminating her face.

There was no real surprise, no fear of what or who she was. She’d been forced to admit what she was a long time ago. Saying the words wasn’t needed. The coppery taste of blood remained in her mouth and even after several swallows of cool water, the bitter flavor persisted. Some savored the taste of blood and gore. For her, even the thought disgusted her. She wasn’t like them—not completely. She was the unwanted. The damned.

Yet she was the very reason for the chase and drawing them away from her people was the only thing she could do. No, this was the honorable thing to do. The sound of a snapping twig a half mile behind her made her growl. The monsters were closing in. She had little recourse but to run for if they followed her, then her people might be safe. Might be. There was no way of telling. Unable to trust her instincts, she drank until she was full then turned and sniffed. They were far too close for her comfort.

Taking off at a jog, she made enough noise they would turn away from the village and toward her, their need for a kill remaining in the forefront of their minds. She was the lone solider tonight, the only one who had the strength left. Tonight was a new beginning for her, perhaps for all of them.

Hearing the sounds of the men, their banter of the hunt pushed her forward. She stopped and turned. There was an interesting smell in the air, something she wasn’t used to. A new man had joined them, one who seemed to be their leader. Was he kind? Was he honorable? There was no way of telling. She smiled and licked her lips before taking off at a full run. As the cool night air rushed past her, tingles swept down her spine. She was taken by the intensity of her emotions, dazzling sensations. She’d never felt as alive as she did tonight.

Are you terrified of the night? You should be…

Kisses and…keep the lights on.



Posted in Booktrope, creatures, creatures of the night, curse, Entice, horror, paranormal | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Serving Her Master…the Effect of Social Media on the Relationship

Social media is often the bane of my life. Yes, the culture is certainly here to stay, but I can tell you that the lack of direct human contact is often debilitating. We have so many sources out there to concentrate on. From Facebook to Instagram, Pinterest to Twitter, the list grows daily. There’s no way as an author that I can keep up with the various methods. There’s not enough time in the day to be able to sort through the messages and emails, the tags and likes. UGH. It’s frustrating. I also know that you can beI am the shadow anyone you want hiding behind a computer terminal or laptop – including an asshole. It’s much easier to chastise someone you’ll never have a chance of meeting. You know exactly what I mean.

I’ve spoken to many couples living the D/s or M/s lifestyle and they’ve been criticized for their type of relationship as if they’re less than human. Too many people, who either don’t or refuse to learn about D/s, think they know better. They jump to conclusions, writing nasty emails, blogs, tweets or give comments just because they realize they can without fear of retribution. No longer do you have to simply worry about your friends and family, your boss and co-workers. Now, anyone who has a different opinion or God forbid lives what they consider a ‘normal’ lifestyle can openly ridicule anyone and everyone.

A bit disgusting. Don’t you think? Some say it’s the way of the world and it’s only going to get worse. Really? Is this what humanity has come down to? Is this where we’re going as a supposedly intelligent society? Hell, my dogs act better and more respectful than the majority of humans I come into contact with. I’m a chick who has no issue speaking her mind. I also don’t hind behind many masks – that is I haven’t until I decided to explore D/s in more than just my stories. Any of you who’ve read my blog know why and while I don’t mind taking the heat and have a damn thick backbone, I certainly grow weary of the bullshit. If you don’t understand D/s, M/s or DD (and the varying forms of BDSM play, I get it. Ask questions. See if we’re all still normal human beings. You don’t have to try anything. No one is going to force you into accepting or embracing, but respecting is something else entirely.

I think many Dom’s and submissives hide behind the change they’ve made in their lifestyle. There are certainly enough blogs on the Internet to suggest many enjoy sharing their experiences with others, but there are many more who close the doors and blinds and never tell a soul. I certainly appreciate when I receive messages on my blogs or the few select emails from couples thanking me or asking questions. I love hearing from them. I can tell many feel like they’re on an island, unable to talk to close friends or relatives. What a shame. This isn’t a whole lot different than those sharing a gay relationship. The D/s lifestyle is lived by many more than you might choose to believe.

I am dominantWhere the Internet can be a trying place to meander through with the many twists and turns and people bashing, it’s also a wondrous source of information. I will always encourage anyone interested in or moving through stages of their D/s journey to seek out advice. JP and I have found many sites in which open discussion are encouraged and nurtured. They’ve given both of us a place to talk about concerns and worries, techniques and even locations to purchase implements. It’s fascinating what’s out there! I’ve learned so much and I’m grateful to those who take the time to educate. However, it seems you have to maneuver through the twisting path in order to find useful information. BDSM is often grouped together with basic aspects of pornography. Much like erotic writing is still even today akin to penning porn as well.

How many blogs have I written about the difference? Too many. What can you do as a couple? I have a few thoughts with advice, but I encourage you to explore and find your own, even creating a source for others if you’re willing.

One. Know what you’re looking for. This of course involves discussions between the two of you. What are you trying to find? What is the purpose? Can you temper the advice, knowing that your relationship is special and very different? You must truly understand that you are unique in many aspects of what you want and need to achieve.

Two. Navigate the sites with some caution. There are so many reputable locations such as Fetlife, but even this very popular website and social media location has its share of trolls. I’ve come across some true wackos who want sex and nothing else. However, once you weed through the bullshit, you can find so many incredible discussion groups for whatever you’re interested in learning about. Again, caution is the key, especially in the beginning. There are countless numbers of couples that have no problem sharing the good, the bad and the often ugly of their experiences.

Three. Take every bit of information with a grain of salt. If you’re trying to learn about the Violet Wand for example, don’t take the advice of one. This method of play or control can still be dangerous if used improperly. You have to read, learn, read more and experiment in a controlled and educated fashion. Anything less will result in distaste at minimum or bodily damage at maximum. You don’t want to have your desire crushed because of bad advice.

Four. Realize that you are indeed unique in your wants and needs. Don’t be afraid to ask the tough questions, knowing that you’re going to often receive direct answers. These answers might not be what you’re looking for. Everyone has an opinion. Sometime these Protect Meare followed with direct criticism because the party or parties think they know better. Some long term lifestylers have very direct thoughts that seem biting. I’ve had many of these in my searches. Listen and glean what you can then mold to what you and your partner are looking for.

Five. Continue to learn during every step of your journey. There isn’t a day I don’t learn something or perhaps take pause. Many in the lifestyle simply want to share so you won’t step into the mess they did or perhaps they want to share in their joy. The information is fascinating and I love stepping back and seeing where and how their advice might fit in.

Bottom line, social media can be both enlightening and daunting. You can’t expect to learn everything you both need to know from reading a passage on any social media site. Just like you can’t and shouldn’t take their criticisms as gospel. Again, everyone has an opinion and so many certainly don’t mind telling you.

Whatever acronym you place on what you’re sharing with the special someone in your life, you know that living openly is… Well, you know. The majority of couples have to hide their true nature for fear of retribution. Will this change in decades to come? Who knows. I would like to think so, but I have my doubts. In the meantime, don’t feel like an island. You’re not. There are too many who embrace, enjoy and thrive in ways not previously possible. I hope this gives you some thoughts to discuss over the breakfast table today.

Kisses and spanks…


Posted in BDSM, Domestic Discipline, Domination and submission, Spanking | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment