Is it bad when Delia doesn’t even notice the spanks stop? Find out in this #SatSpanks

Check out how Delia reacts in this #SatSpanks edition, an exclusive excerpt from Duty Bound. Grab this hot anthology fast to find out what happens!

***

Delia’s breath caught in her throat, her anticipation building. The room was filled with a new energy, which seemed to pulse around her. Her belly knotted with anxious excitement. Why was he making her wait? This was too…
She never got to conclude that thought. In a flash, Turner’s hand had vanished from her body, and he had brought his palm crashing back down against her vulnerable arse. Delia yelped out of instinct, not because the swat was painful, but just because there had been one. He had finally spanked her, and despite her embarrassment and discomfort, she was glad of it.
“We will only use my palm.” Turner’s voice was like a soft, insistent thrum, the sound vibrating over her body to find her ears. “And for now, you may stay clothed, Delia. This is just a warm-up.”
There was a definite gasp at that, but he had already landed the second swat, and this was harder than before. A warm-up? Is that what he’d said? And what was that about clothing? Surely, he couldn’t think to strip her before she was spanked? That ignominy seemed too great for anyone to bear. Turner struck her upturned behind again, following with three fresh swats, all in fast succession. With each new spank, the sting intensified. She wasn’t sure if Turner was intentionally landing them harder, or if it was the cumulative effect of receiving one after the other, but by the time Delia had counted the tenth in her head, she could absolutely feel the weight of each impact.
As the cardinal settled into some sort of rhythm, the onslaught came harder and faster, until Delia reached a point where each new strike began to take her breath away. She squirmed over his lap as the swats rained down, instinctively reaching behind her and trying to protect her punished behind. His hand paused at once, one of those large palms catching her smaller wrist and holding it in place as Turner chastised her.
“No, thank you, young lady.” This time his voice was stern, reminding her of the way her father had once spoken to her before his untimely demise. “You shall not interfere with God’s work. You have confessed your sins, and come here for forgiveness. Now, you must endure your penance.”
“But, Cardinal!” she gasped. “Please.”
The hand which had trapped her wrist pulled it away from the curves of her behind, and drew it back towards her shoulders. Delia twisted awkwardly over his robes. The position wasn’t hurting her, but it was certainly less comfortable, and she instantly disliked the weight of his free arm against her back. As soon as her bottom was cleared of her self-imposed obstruction, his palm resumed, peppering her arse with cruel, loud swats which seemed to fill up the office like rolls of thunder. And still Delia resisted. It was like she couldn’t stop, as though she had temporarily lost control of her own body. The more he spanked her, the more her body rolled and countered him, her bottom searching for a way out of its penance. Yet the cardinal’s will was strong, perhaps even stronger than her own, and her wilful display did nothing to quell his ambition. The arm at her back held her steady, while his other hand worked relentlessly, spanking her over and over again.
The loss of control was maddening, but in her mind, the fight was not futile. Delia imagined herself, as Turner might see her, draped over his vestment; prone and exposed, and she despised the mental image. She hated how weak she was, and how vulnerable she felt. She resented the power these men held over her. Or at least, that’s what she told herself as she writhed over his body, that’s how she convinced herself that she wasn’t enjoying the surrender. But it wasn’t true, and if Cardinal Turner was right about God, then He would certainly know the deceit. The truth was it did hurt, and it was uncomfortable, and yet for all her protestations, Delia was secretly beginning to revel in it. The whole scenario was uniquely compelling. For the first time, she was being held to account for her actions, and it was all happening like this; she was being spanked by the gorgeous cardinal in the red robes with the mesmerising blue eyes.
As the realisation dawned over her, the fight left Delia’s body in an instant. She felt the miscellaneous energy rush from her body, and she slumped forward, panting as she finally began to understand. This was all part of the punishment. First the anticipation, then the resistance, and now, the resignation. And resigned she was, her eyes closing as she accepted the brunt of Turner’s palm as it punished her bottom over and over. At that moment of concession, her body relaxed, despite the wall of pain which was being built at her behind. At that moment, her mind was quiet, and as she slipped away from conscious thought, Delia realised it was perhaps the first time her head had ever been free. She no longer had to think. She no longer had to worry about what to wear, or do, or say. She no longer had control. She’d given that up to Turner, or to God, or whoever the hell was orchestrating this bizarre ritual, but whoever it was, Delia felt sure they could keep it. This quiet freedom was good. Better than anything she could have imagined, maybe even better than the simmering thrum of arousal which kept its insistent throb between her legs.
“Good girl, Delia,” crooned Turner from above her head. “There’s our good girl, brothers. She is finally capitulating, and submitting to the will of God.”
“Praise be His name,” murmured Cardinal Medlock from beyond her head.
The sound of their voices stirred her from the peculiar tranquillity Delia had found in the punishment, and she wished at once that she could return to its warm folds. But now another urge was coming to fore. The weight of sensation at her core was building, centring her, making her focus only the weight of the cardinal’s palm as it struck her jeans. She imagined the impact, envisioning the reverberations as they spread outwards, down towards her legs. Down between her thighs.
A small moan escaped her lips, and reflexively she raised her free hand to cover her lips at the sound. Delia swore she had not consciously meant to make it, but then she remembered, nothing about this act was conscious anymore. She’d had control at the start, when she consented to the penance, but since then; since she found herself draped over Turner’s vestments, Delia had none. There was no say over the timing or intensity of each swat, no ability to protect herself, and now, apparently, there was no control over her own body’s responses. A hot blush engulfed her face as she realised what she’d done, and yet it was already too late. She’d moaned gutturally over the Cardinal’s lap, and they must have heard her. At least Turner must have caught the sound, and probably Medlock and Brogan, too.
Oh, God…
It was then that she registered the change. The spanking had halted, and in her embarrassed state of mind, Delia hadn’t even noticed.


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Happy release day to me, Duty Bound is live!

Duty Bound is now Live and ready to steam up your kindle!

Duty Bound (Sins)

When their uniforms come off…

Bossy, dedicated, overprotective, super complicated. A woman needs a man like that in her life like she needs a temporal lobe headache, right? Think again, because when the uniforms come off and the temperature skyrockets, it’s time to forget Hell and take a trip straight to Heaven.

How about multiplying that by three, four, or more? You get the picture? This set of panty-melting reverse harem stories will have you gasping, panting, squirming and sweating. Read late into the night with these steamy tales featuring priests, military men, S.W.A.T. officers, gardeners, waiters, and more.

For a limited time only, grab your own harem of hot men who are determined to be the best of the best, especially when it comes to adoring their woman.

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The three of them made their way through the narrow halls, Delia trapped between the leading figure of Brogan and the even taller Cardinal Turner, who seemed to tower over her. As they walked, Turner insisted on asking her a variety of inane questions, none of which had anything to do with the reasons she was actually here, or what in the hell they were planning to do with her.

Nervous butterflies stretched their wings as her mind considered what the options could be. Her uncle had been disappointed at her behaviour—angry even—but surely, he wouldn’t leave her in the care of men who would hurt her? And anyway, she reassured herself as Turner chatted on, there were laws against that. They couldn’t touch her, but they could intimidate, and if she was honest, they already had.

It was true, no overt threats had been made, but still there was something. Something imperceptible, something in the air here like a lingering scent. Delia could sense it instinctively, although she couldn’t give the sensation a name. The worst of it was though, it wasn’t just trepidation that the atmosphere produced in her tightly-wound body, it was also arousal. Delia hadn’t had that much experience with boys her own age. Uncle Nicholas had always made that prospect practically impossible, but she had dated a couple, breaking out of the house after hours when her aunt and uncle had believed she was sleeping.

Neither Timmy Blore, nor Steve Furst had been much to talk about. They had really just been fumbles in the dark, but the experiences had taught her one thing; she enjoyed a man taking control. And every time Brogan and Turner had stood up to her today, Delia had felt the tension in her core, and that hot, slick arousal which had collected at the apex of her thighs. The thought of whatever was about to transpire in Turner’s office made her feel giddy, though she realised that was stupid. Whatever was on the cards for her, these men were priests. They didn’t see her that way. No doubt she was little better than a naughty school-girl to them, although she’d been in college now for nearly three years.

“And you’re at college, Delia,” Turner asked. “Is that right?”

His question cut through her internal monologue, and she nodded, trying to compose herself before she answered the hot-looking priest with the astonishing blue eyes. He was older than Father Brogan, but every inch as tempting.

Stop it, she chastised herself. Stop thinking that way. This is the sort of shit that landed you in trouble in the first place. If you hadn’t been trying to impress Steve, then you’d never have stolen the damn cigarettes in the first place.

“Yes, Cardinal,” she replied, unable to meet his piercing gaze as it drilled into her. His eyes were like the colour of a tropical ocean, and were quite unlike anything Delia had ever seen before. “I had been thinking of going on to university.”

“So, you’re a bright young woman,” he responded, flashing her an absolutely devastating smile. “Pray tell, why it has taken you so long to complete your college course?” Delia grimaced. Perfect, now she had to admit yet more misdemeanours.

“I’ve had to retake one of the years,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Why?” Turner asked in a knowing tone which made her wonder if he didn’t have the
answer from her uncle already.

“I didn’t take my studies seriously at first,” she conceded, the words falling from her
in one, long rush. “I was distracted.”

Delia lifted her chin, catching Turner’s haunting gaze still fixed on her.

“I see,” he replied. “Perhaps you have been in need of our guidance for a while,
Delia?”

She nodded, uncertain what she should say. She still didn’t want to be here, but there
was something disturbingly alluring about being around these men. If she was forced to endure this social isolation, then at least she could enjoy their company and easy-on-the-eye aesthetics.

“We’ll do our best to help you,” the cardinal assured her, “but you have to promise me one thing, Delia.”

The sound of her name on his lips made her gulp. It was like a reflex. “What’s that, Cardinal Turner?”

“You have to promise to be my good girl, Delia,” he told her in what sounded like a deliberately seductive tone. “No running, no fighting and no more speaking out of line. You will take your punishment, and then you’ll receive atonement.”

Turner’s words washed over her like a wave, sending her thoughts scattering.
Punishment? Had he just said punishment? Sure, Uncle Nicholas had inferred there would be consequences; he’d said that was what she needed, but what the fuck did that mean? She was a grown woman, for God’s sake! What were they going to do to her? Throw her in the dungeon? A shiver ran down her spine at the prospect, its resonance connecting with her sex in the most delicious way. Delia didn’t know what was wrong with her, but somehow the idea sounded magnificent.

“Delia?” Those blue eyes were boring into her again. “Delia, can you do that? Can you be my good girl?”

She turned her head to see Turner’s perfect gaze again. Fuck. How can you resist temptation like that, she wondered? He might be dressed like a priest, but she bet under that robe was all the equipment she wanted.

“Yes, Cardinal.” Oh God, she was practically panting now. What must he think of her? “I can try.”

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It’s Delia’s turn with the Cardinal in this #SatSpanks excerpt

Here’s an exclusive little snippet for you from the upcoming Duty Bound anthology for you to enjoy in this #SatSpanks. Take a peek at Sins of the Flesh

***

He was acting on instinct as his arms snaked to Delia’s small waist, and he pulled her reddened behind towards his thigh. She yelped beautifully, the sound helping to harden his already swollen cock as it strained for freedom inside his vestment. He lowered his face to her nape, grazing his lips over the tempting flesh there. In Turner’s experience, a woman’s neck was the dividing line between the carnal needs of her body, and the moral instruction of her mind. He and his holy brothers had spent the last few days trying to mould and command that mind. They wanted to ensure that never again would little Delia be tempted to take what did not belong to her, and that never again would she speak rudely to her family. He believed that, on balance, they were close to achieving that goal. Now would come the passion they had sought from the beginning, and by her own admission, Delia had admitted to also fantasising about the possibility of such a liaison.
Delia twisted, trying to turn to meet his goading lips, but his arms tightened around her body.
“I want to make sure we understand each other,” he purred into her right ear. “I will more than happily lead this relationship, but the connection will not be solely ours. It will also involve my holy peers, Cardinal Medlock and Father Brogan.”
Turner paused, and for the first time he relaxed his grip on Delia, permitting her to spin and face him. “Do you understand?” he asked her. He wanted their intentions to be clear. There could be no confusion about what would happen next.
She smiled up at him, making him hungrier for her flesh that he had ever known. Delia was the very picture of innocence, there was no doubt about that, but she didn’t fool him. Turner had already heard her confessions, and he had already turned her over his lap. He knew better… they all did. Delia was not innocent. She was a naughty little imp, and she’d deserved all the rounds of punishment she’d been made to endure, as well as the penance that was still yet to come. And yet, for all of that, she was closer to absolution than ever before, and now it was his absolute pleasure, to bring her even closer to the heavens.
“I understand,” she murmured, her gaze sliding from his face to acknowledge both Medlock, and Brogan behind him. “But I have never…” she paused, evidently struggling to find the right words.
“What, Delia?” he teased, capturing her dainty chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What have you never?”
Of course, he already knew the answer, but hearing the words from her sweet lips was going to be intoxicating.
Delia swallowed, her face burning an even deeper shade of crimson. “There has only ever been one man, Cardinal,” she conceded again. “I do not know if I can cope with all of you.”


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Madelaine learns from the Cardinal in this #SatSpanks

Coming on January 18th is The Sins of the Flesh, my story in the Duty Bounds anthology. I am super excited to finally talk about it and here is your first snippet for this #SatSpanks!

Duty Bound (Sins)

The palm landed so fast that the sound barely registered in his ears before the impact seared the pale flesh below him.

“Owww!” The scream resonated throughout the large room, echoing long after the lips making it had closed.

“That’s right, Madelaine.” His voice was dark and brooding, but it oozed a sense of undeniable confidence. “Let it out, and with the pain, let go of your attitude and petulance.”

His hand was in the air again before Madelaine could even answer, his flesh slamming hard against her exposed and vulnerable backside again.

“Please, no!” She was sobbing now, her face pressed down into the dark leather chair she was clinging to. “Stop it. Stop it now, Cardinal.”

The man in the red robe edged towards the crying woman, crouching down beside her naked body to stroke her lower back. “It’s okay, Madelaine,” he soothed. “You are doing so well.”

She twisted her face towards him, large brown, tear-stained eyes meeting his. “Please, Cardinal,” she whispered hoarsely. “I can’t take any more. Please stop.”

Cardinal Turner smiled. “You know we can’t stop until your punishment is complete, young lady. This is God’s work, and it must be done.”

Madelaine drew in a shaky breath, her trepidation obvious from her anxious expression. “I’m sorry, Cardinal,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. I swear I will never do it again. I’ll be respectful. I—”

“Shhh…” His fingers moved to Madelaine’s moist lips, silencing her as they applied pressure. “I know you have learned your lesson, child, and so does God, but you must be penitent. Suffer your penance. Endure for him. Only then will you be granted forgiveness.”

She was nodding as he concluded, her expressive face demonstrating acceptance of his words.

“Do you understand?” he probed.

“Yes, Cardinal,” she whispered. I understand.”

“Good girl.” His voice was like a gentle purr, and Madelaine’s eyes fell shut at the sound of it. “Let’s resume, and soon you’ll be blessed with God’s clemency.”

He rose from her side, flexing the fingers of his right hand as he stalked back towards her rear. Glancing down at her trembling thighs, he eyed the pink marks which decorated her beautiful curves. Serving God was his life’s work, but sometimes it was considerably more pleasurable than others. Cardinal Turner sensed that today was definitely going to be one of those days.

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Duty Bound is coming…

Surprise! I am part of an anthology coming out this month that I haven’t talked about much, let’s change that.  Duty Bound is a uniform romance anthology, crammed full of HOT, SEXY menages! My story is called The Sins of the Flesh, and is all about smouldering men of God, delivering hard lessons in absolution…

Duty Bound (Sins)

When their uniforms come off…

Bossy, dedicated, overprotective, super complicated. A woman needs a man like that in her life like she needs a temporal lobe headache, right? Think again, because when the uniforms come off and the temperature skyrockets, it’s time to forget Hell and take a trip straight to Heaven.

How about multiplying that by three, four, or more? You get the picture? This set of panty-melting reverse harem stories will have you gasping, panting, squirming and sweating. Read late into the night with these steamy tales featuring priests, military men, S.W.A.T. officers, gardeners, waiters, and more.

For a limited time only, grab your own harem of hot men who are determined to be the best of the best, especially when it comes to adoring their woman.

What do you think of that cover?!

This is a sinfully hot story and I can’t wait to start sharing parts of it with you!

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When the uniforms come off… get out your crayons and color them in! 10 pages of fun uniformed hotties for you to print at home and color while you wait for the release of Duty Bound, a box set by Felicity Brandon, Lily Harlem, Lucy Felthouse and Katie Douglas.

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You know the rules… #SatSpanks

Tamed is LIVE and I am so excited! Book 2 of The Dark Necessities is my baby and I am so happy the reviews are loving it. For this edition of #SatSpanks, Molly is recalling rules!

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Connor’s hand touched her face in the darkness, those digits finding the hot tears which she had barely even realised were falling. Her own fingers fell from his jaw at the weight of his caress. As though they were acting on some type of reflex, they found his chest, and she pressed her small palms against his shirt. Drawing her hair back, his hand rested at her nape, holding her in place as he continued. “There were only ever two rules, pet. Do you remember them?”

He was close now. Molly knew that, even though her eyes had fallen closed at the sensation of his fingers. She could feel his breath against her face, the heat reminding her of the way he’d claimed her body just last night. Her eyes blinked open as she tried to compose herself. This was not the time for sensual memories, Molly, she rebuked herself. You’re about to get taken – again – by this monster. You need to do something. You need to kick, run, throw a punch… And yet, she already knew it was too late. She was falling deeper into his trap, even now as he spoke. It wasn’t his body holding her in place, but his mesmerising ability to capture her with his words.

“Pet?” He repeated, his tone expectant. “The rules?”

“To obey you, Master,” she parroted, as though she was answering a school test. “And to write for you.”

“There’s my good girl,” he purred, the hand at her neck drawing her face even closer to his body. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten.”

His tone was soft, but patronising, and a part of her wanted to raise her hand and slap him for mocking her. But that part was small and insignificant now, a remnant of the woman she used to be, before Connor Reilly crashed into her life. Now that same tone was all sexy and dominant. The voice of the man who commanded her. The voice of her Master.

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The cover for Tamed is here in this #SatSpanks post

Book two of my dark trilogy The Dark Necessity comes next week! Tamed is set for release on December 28th and I can’t wait for you to get it. Preorder it to have it fast! Have you seen the over yet? Take a look, it is gorgeous! This week’s #SatSpanks edition, Molly meets the paddle again.

Tamed Cover

Strapped down to the spanking bench, Molly’s legs were splayed wider than she expected, and her hips were raised by a pile of strategically placed blankets against the leather. She didn’t counter or even try to resist him. What would be the point? She was chained and helpless. Connor was physically stronger than her, and now that he was back in his own domain, he seemed larger than life again. There was no hope of getting away, and that meant taking whatever punishment he was about to dish out.

“I spent the entire drive here contemplating how best to punish you, pet.”

Connor’s voice jarred her from her miserable musings, and she turned her head toward it. He was stood there, dressed only in black jogging pants. His lean, muscular torso was on display for her to see, concealed only by his strong arms which were folded in front of his chest.

“Of course, I can spank you,” he went on. “I can paddle that delicious backside of yours to within an inch of your life, but I want more than that. I need it. I need to make sure you know what will happen when you defy me.”

Molly panted around the gag. Somehow, the thing hadn’t seemed so bad on the way home, but then she had slept through the whole thing. Now though, her jaw was aching already, and it had only been back in place for a few minutes. Her eyes locked with Connor’s, his resolve evident from just the briefest of connections. He was clearly telling her the truth. Whatever penance was to come, he had obviously spent a lot of time considering it. The thought was not reassuring.

“As such,” Connor continued. “I have concluded that your punishment should not just be about pain. It should be about pleasure too, or in fact, your complete lack of it.”

He shifted from his place beside her, stalking to one of the walls in front of her face. Molly strained her head to see what he was doing, her neck screaming at the contorted angle. Ignoring its plea, she caught sight of him collecting a few items. One was an ominous-looking wooden paddle, and another looked like some type of large, industrial vibrator. There was something else, too, but she lost sight of it as he passed by the side of her head.

Her face fell back to the leather, confusion shrouding her mind. Why did he need a vibrator? Was he going to torture her with orgasms? The thought sounded tantalizing, although if she knew anything about Connor, then she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He’d already implied there would be no pleasure, so…

Thwack!

She pulled hard against the straps at her ankles and wrists. He’d hit her! The son of a bitch had hit her while she’d been thinking. She twisted her face right to try and catch sight of him, but all she could make out was his silhouette in her peripheral vision.

“First, we warm up this sweet behind,” he declared.

Molly saw the paddle rise into the air, her body tensing as he sent it to crash back against her ass again. Shrieking through the gag, Molly struggled again, her breaths coming out in short pants.

“Suck it up, pet,” he sneered as he landed the third swat. “Or let me put this in a way an American will understand. Your ass is quite literally mine. Mine to strike, mine to taunt, mine to fuck, and now I have it right back here where it belongs.”

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