A Virgin princess meets a fierce barbarianwarlord…
This week, the Never Ending Blog tour brings us the awesome, April Vine, and her steamy science fiction spanking romance, Taken by the Barbarian!
Having spent her life confined behind the walls of an opulent palace where she could be kept safe and pure, twenty-year-old Princess Saraska is innocent, naïve, and utterly unprepared for what is in store when she is taken captive by Roark, the barbarian ruler of the planet Sentara.
To her surprise, Saraska quickly discovers that while Roark will not hesitate to bare her bottom and spank her thoroughly any time he feels it necessary, the tall, handsome king is far from the ruthless savage she expected. His stern discipline and his bold, intimate exploration of her virgin body leave her quivering with need, and when at last he claims her completely his skilled, dominant lovemaking brings her pleasure more intense than she could have ever imagined.
Though Saraska grew up believing her people were peaceful, she soon begins to realize that she has been lied to her entire life. But when her own father conspires to turn her against Roark, will Saraska see through his schemes and trust in the man she has grown to love?
Publisher’s Note: Taken by the Barbarian includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
If you love your romance crammed with hot sexy alpha males and spanking, read on for the steamy excerpt…
If he thought she would obediently stay for her punishment, he didn’t know her at all and this time nothing he said would stop her from leaving. His commands to stay, to come back at once and she’d be sorry if she didn’t, trailed behind her. All she needed was her bed.
“Saraska.” The magnificent power and overwhelming dictatorial strength in his tone as he bellowed her name finally stopped her dead in the path.
He had never uttered her name before and saying it that way instilled a unique quality in her to obey him. She feared him because he was an unknown and yet in that same instance, some other force compelled her to submit to him, if only to see what her name falling from his lips did to his face if he said it gently and with kindness.
Slowly she turned around and found herself staring at his wide hard chest. How had he closed the distance between them so silently?
“You have not been eating.” He didn’t ask the question; he stated it as a fact.
She said nothing, crossing her arms over her chest again as a meager attempt to protect herself from him. He raised her chin with his finger and her spine threatened to fold with a thousand tingles.
“Look at me when I talk to you,” he said. Why couldn’t she stop her eyelids from flickering open and staring into his dark green gaze, like an abyss of the forbidden?
“You can’t make me eat, Alien,” she said, defiance making her braver.
“I can make you do anything I want you to do, slave.”
She swallowed but maintained her brave face. So far he done exactly as he chose when it came to her, never asking her feeling or opinion. He dictated and expected his demands to be executed. Well, she was not one of his subjects. She would never be, no matter how much he tried to break her. She was an Actual born princess. And he was a barbaric Alien Warlord.
“Then I object,” she said. “Since you’ve so generously given me to Jacob, he should be the one to discipline me and not you. I am his slave after all.”
“You would rather let someone else touch you?” The ripple in his hard square and inexorable jaw frightened her as did the low threatening husk in his voice, but only for a moment.
“I would have anyone who is not you, touch me.” She jerked away from him but didn’t flee to safety even though her mind begged her to do so.
“Will you clean the sus-sty, water the crops, bake the bread, wash the clothes, and feed the galluses?”
“No,” she said and raised her head.
He gripped the back of the chair Gertrude sat in sometimes as she feed those feathered things that looked like birds of a very strange variety but couldn’t fly. They called them galluses. She knew all this because Gertrude would tell her things about her bizarre planet every night. She fell asleep for those short bouts of sleep to the sound of the kind lady’s voice.
He dropped his body into the seat, his long legs spread wide.
“On Sentara, disobedience will earn you a spanking. As a resident you are required to follow the rules. Now lift your nightdress and lie over my lap,” he instructed.
Today I am thrilled to once again host my fellow Wicked Pen author, Nia Farrell. Her upcoming new release, Keeper: Avenging Angels MC (Book 2) is out next month, so she’s here to whet our appetites with some juicy details about the book!
Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan and Isabella Castellari have a history. Kind of. He’s a member of the Avenging Angels MC and one of four brothers whom she thinks slept with her sister three years ago. Or did they? Nothing is as it seems. Isabella’s world is turned upside down when lies are exposed, truths revealed, and the man she’s been fantasizing about for three long years makes her an offer that she should refuse but can’t.
When Mad Dog recognizes Isabella stranded on a rural country road, remembering her toxic sister, he almost doesn’t stop. Seeing her as an end to a means, he brings her back to the Avenging Angels MC clubhouse and quickly learns that she’s different—very different—than what he expected. She’s a curious innocent, and willing to submit to his domination. But there are complications. A mob boss uncle, protective parents, a traitorous friend, and secrets that have been kept for far too long. Secrets that will either bind them together or tear them apart.
This book has adult content and may contain triggers. Written for ages 18+.
Ready for a naughty little excerpt? Go on then (but be warned this is for adults ONLY!)
He couldn’t deny, it was a huge ego stroke to know that he was her first. But she was also Isabella F**king Castellari. Never Miss Little Italy like her sister, but they shared the same blood ties to the f**king mob.
Of course, Isabella didn’t know that he knew about her crime family connection. He’d been keeping too many f**king secrets for too f**king long. Her sister Krissy and her Uncle Giovanni were just some of many.
Rather than open that can of worms, he chose a safer subject.
“So, tell me.” Reaching, he smoothed her hair back from her face and traced the line of her jaw with two fingers. “Before tonight, did you know that Anna was seeing Richie?”
She sighed softly. “No. I mean, I thought that she was seeing someone, but she always had an excuse. Usually, it was homework, but then we graduated and she was still too busy.”
Mad Dog forced his voice to stay calm. “How old are you, Isabella?” Please tell me you’re not jail bait on top of a mob boss’s niece.
“I turned eighteen on March sixth. Michelangelo’s birthday. And the day the Alamo fell, if you’re into Texas history. How old are you?”
“Thirty.” Twelve years her senior. He rubbed a hand across his face and blew out softly. “Jesus, that sounds old.”
Reaching across, she caught his dog tags, weighed them in her hand, and said solemnly, “You’re not old. You’re experienced. And I’m hoping that you’ll teach me.”
He levelled a look at her. He needed to be honest, at least in this. “Clubhouse life isn’t for everyone,” he told her. “We do things different here. We’re all in the BDSM lifestyle as well as the club. The men here Dominate. The women submit. Did you read Fifty Shades or watch the movies?”
“Well, f**k that shit. That’s not how things are done. You want to learn? We’ll get cleaned up and go downstairs. The lounge is your classroom. You’ll learn things there that they don’t teach in college. Are you signed up to go anywhere this fall?”
“SIU,” she said. “For photography and graphic design.”
He remembered the point-and-shoot he’d found in her purse. “You a shutterbug?”
“You could say that. I took my first picture when I was four. Got my own camera when I was six. I never leave home without one.”
“And the graphic design?”
“You know all those books on my reader? Someone does the covers. Might as well be me. Take the pictures, offer premades and customs. It’s something that I think I’d enjoy and be good at. I’ve already done one for my cousin. She uses a pen name so that no one knows she writes erotica. She tells people that she’s a ghost writer and can’t disclose anything.”
“She had you do a cover? Like, with models? Naked models?”
Isabella bit her lip and coiled a strand of hair around her finger. “Well, it is erotica,” she said coyly.
He wasn’t smiling. She was eighteen, for Christ’s sake. What the hell was her cousin thinking?
“Just teasing!” She traced his lips with the pad of her index finger. He caught it between his teeth and refused to give it back until her eyes had gone smoky and her thoughts were disjointed. “She, um…” Isabella cleared her throat and tried again. “She dressed up like a cheerleader. The cover shows her chest and midriff. You…um…you can’t see her face.”
“Paperback or just e-book?”
“Both.” She smiled with quiet pride. “I have a copy, if you’d like to see it.”
“I would.” If they were going to try and make a go of this, he needed to know what she was doing. What she had planned. Then he’d expand her horizons where he could.
“And the graphic design—apart from the book covers. Can you draw?”
Her brow scrunched. “Yes? Some? That’s not my—”
“Sweet. You could learn to tattoo.”
“Wait. What?” She looked at him, confused. He’d gone too fast and lost her. Now she was trying to get her bearings.
He shifted gears. “How about a summer job? You working anywhere?”
“No. I’m taking two online classes. Getting some of the required subjects taken care of so that I can immerse myself in the good stuff come fall.”
“The club owns a tat shop. Angel Ink. Flynn will need to see what you can do, but if you pass muster and want a full- or part-time job, he can use the help. Front desk scheduling, answering the phone, checking in deliveries. Normal receptionist-office assistant stuff. He can teach you on the side, if you want to learn. Never hurts to learn another job skill, just in case the market for photography tanks, no one’s hiring graphic designers, and your cousin can’t afford what you’re worth.”
That last bit seemed to perk her up. “How do you know what I’m worth?” she challenged. “My professors might think that I suck.”
He begged to differ. “As your teacher, I would say that your oral skills need developed, but the student shows promise. Think you’re ready for your next lesson?”
Mad Dog caught her hand and wrapped her fingers around his half-hard shaft. “Just a hint. The correct answer is yes….”
Read more sexy teasers here, and get ready to grab your copy next month! You can do so at Amazon!
I’m an arrogant, self-righteous Italian guy who only thinks through one thing… I never see the same woman twice – it’s my rule. I throw the most outrageously wicked and sexy parties for my own satisfaction and relish on women like I do my fine dining. I’m a playboy by day and a playboy by night. They call me the Italian Playboy and I love it! Only, all of that changed one night when a dark haired beauty stepped into one of my sex parties. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I had to have her. But no sooner than my eyes had met her naked body, she was gone. I had to find her.
And I wouldn’t stop until I did.
✶💕✶ EXCERPT ✶💕✶
“Okay so you want grand, extreme and flamboyant.
How about I put some ideas together and send them over?”
“Are you not bringing them to me?”
“Tut, tut,” he said, wagging his finger at me. “Correction,
you will bring them to me. I like the personal touch,” he quirked the corner of his mouth and winked.
He walked away like some goddamn prince.
“I think we should call a meeting ASAP.” I called after him.
“Absolutely, tomorrow, but remember,” he said, stood at
the other side of the room, “I’m a busy man. I don’t hang around.”
He ambled back towards me. I stood digesting he
“I can make some plans and see what you think.”
“Perfect, by the way cute ass and that blouse does
nothing for your tits.”
“I wasn’t aware I asked your opinion.”
“You didn’t, but I bet when you’re wearing the right
clothes you look scorching.” He wagged his brow.
The man clearly loved himself.
“Anyway, I need to be leaving. I have to put ideas
together, if you could send me your e-mail address I can send ideas to you.”
“Bring your ideas to me. We have already discussed this it
will give me a chance to admire you again, we could have a drink,” he cheekily
“I am simply working here on a project, not here for you
to drool over.”
“Shame, I was hoping to try and get in your knickers, if
you wear them, but looking at you, I’d say you’re wearing those big unsexy
I choked on my saliva.
“Do you hold no shame?”
“No, not really, I am addicted to pussy. Now, I want you
to bring the designs to me, no further ifs or buts…I am the one paying for you
and expect,” he in fumed me with his cologne. “Something mind-fucking-blowing.
If you catch my drift.”
“Fine, I will put some ideas together and bring them to
“You’re leaving so soon,” he said, disappointed.
“I am a busy woman, Mr. Valentino. I have another client
This Tuesday, Anita Philmar joins us with her new off-world romance, Naked Rebel! Check out the synopsis of this tantalising new adventure…
A spy that prefers to work alone, Nick Royster’s assignment is turned upside down when his superiors sends him a personal companion. Not appreciating the need to watch someone else’s back, he attends a dinner of Salsar’s inner group. Only to learn, he has to sacrifice Rane to get the information he needs to end the war.
Rane knows the important of winning. Her family slaughtered by Salsar, this is her homeland and she plans to do whatever it takes to win her peoples’ freedom.
With everything on the line, can these two have any future together or does love and war equal heartache?
Ready for a red-hot excerpt? Brace yourselves, because this is sizzling (18+ only!)
“Nick, as your companion, I want to please you.” She spread the moist sexual lips and dipped one finger inside her luscious heat.
He lifted his gaze to her face. Did she know what she was doing to him? Did the organization train her in the art of seduction the same way they trained him to kill? And what other skills did she have?
He searched for something to say to ease the tension between them. “Rane, why don’t you take off your breast wrap?”
She grinned and lifted her hands to do his bidding. The flimsy lace separated easily with a light tug. Rosy pink nipples burst from the confines and peaked into tight little berries.
He groaned at the sight of her reclining back on his pillow.
In one swift move, she sat upright and shifted to the side of the bed. “Would you like me to undress you?”
The idea of her hands caressing his body had his head nodding in agreement. “Why don’t you start with my boots, then you can move up from there?”
She dropped to her knees in front of him, but he shifted around so that he sat on the bed with her between his legs. Her hands quickly unbuckled his boots, and he slid his feet free. Her impatient hands allowed him only a moment before they slid over his knees to ride along the inside of his thighs. The tips of her fingers toyed with the clip of his pants.
Rock hard, he waited for her to release the levers and set his cock free.
The crotch of his pants parted. One of her small hands slid under the band of his shorts, and she tugged the material down. His hard cock sprang into her hand.
A grin formed on her face.
He shifted his hips and stood. “Why don’t you let me get rid of these pants? Then we’ll…”
A firm grip circled his sex, and her moist tongue traced crimson lips. “I can’t wait to taste you.” She leaned forward and shoved his shirt out of the way before licking his engorged rod.
Once, twice, then her hot breath caressed him.
Fire sped through his blood. Two years without sex, and he wanted to explode after a little fondling. He yanked off his shirt and grabbed her head. Instead of stopping her movement, he found his fingers sinking into the softness of her reddish-golden hair.
A wicked tongue fluttered against the tip. Her mouth then covered his penis in one long stroke.
He groaned as her lips caressed his length. The ache in his groin demanded release. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers into her soft locks.
Her mouth slid off his cock, and her eyes lifted to his. “Do you want me to give you some relief or do you want to hold off until you’re deep inside my pussy?”
Dayum, that is hawt!
Grab your copy of this smokin’ hot story at the following places:
This time around at the Replay resort, it’s World War I weekend, and vocalist Lara Eastman is one of the entertainers hired to help bring the past to life. The offer comes at a time when she’s worried about how to pay her bills. She accepts the job but declines getting vetted to play—something that she quickly regrets when she meets not one but two very attractive—and very Dominant—pilots.
Alexander Boulton is the resort owner’s cousin. This weekend, the handsome Brit is flying a Sopwith Camel against his rival Dmitry Chezhekov, a Russian-born pilot who portrays a German flying ace. On the ground, the red-haired singer comes under both men’s sights.
Lara meets Alex first, but she’s equally attracted to Dmitry. She rarely hooks up at events, but Alex and Dmitry will prove the exception to her rules. The truth is, she wants them both. Unwilling to settle for one when she can have it all, Lara proposes a threesome.
The men are fierce competitors. Each is determined to bring her the ultimate in pleasure. Only one thing is certain. If they want her, they’ll have to learn to share.
Written for ages 18+.
Ready to dive into Replay 7? Check out this tempting little teaser…
An air raid signal sounded. German soldiers grabbed their guns and took their places behind the sandbag barriers. The planes came in low, strafing the field. Bursts of blank rounds sounded from the German rifles. Puffs of dirt flew into the air from charges that had been laid earlier. The way that they detonated, it looked like bullets from the planes were hitting the ground.
Meanwhile, the German pilots were scrambling, climbing in their fighters, strapping on goggles, and preparing to start their engines. Five ground crew members each took hold of a propeller and gave it a spin. The radial engines roared to life. Freed of their wheel chocks, the planes headed for the runway.
Dmitry was the last to take off, but his Fokker’s superb climbing ability allowed him to quickly join the others. They flew only far enough to turn and meet the British head on.
From her vantage point, Dmitry and Alex’s planes seemed to be on a collision course. She held her breath and fisted her gloved hands, watching, hoping, trusting that nothing went wrong. At the last minute, the Sopwith Camel pulled up, barely missing the Fokker.
More passes were made. Planes were “disabled.” Billowing trails of blue smoke, the downed German planes landed here. The “crippled” British planes returned to their imaginary base.
Finally, only three were left. Dmitry, Alex, and another British pilot engaged in a stunning display of aerial combat, with all the climbs, rolls, and maneuvers that you’d expect in a big-budget motion picture. Eventually, Dmitry simulated being shot, leaving a trail of smoke as he landed. The two British planes flew off, victorious after their successful raid.
Cheers broke out from the crowd. When the applause had quieted, Sir Piers addressed the spectators who’d come out for the morning battle.
“Thank you,” he said. “What an amazing display! The pilots shall all return shortly and will be joining us. Lunch will be served at eleven thirty, to our reenactors, patrons, staff members, and guests. The next reenactment, scheduled this afternoon at one, will be a German attack on a French airfield. The final battle today at five pm will be a different version of this scenario. Meanwhile, the bar will soon be open in the casino tent, where games of chance, music, and conversation may be found for those who wish to stay the day.”
While they had been watching the combat demonstration, a crew of workers had erected yet another tent, yellow striped with two massive center posts and a roof that would cover a one-ring circus. She guessed that tables, chairs, and equipment were being carried in through a back opening. The casino’s front door flaps were closed.
“I’m afraid that it is off limits to you, my dear,” Sir Piers said, “where you are not vetted. Pity, but rules are rules where scenes are concerned.”
“I understand,” she assured him. “But the day is lovely. You’ve provided food, and shelter from the sun. A place to sit and things to see. I’m hoping to get a closer look at the planes, if they’ll let me.”
“I’m certain that can be arranged.” He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I know people.”
Lara laughed. “I’m sure that you do. Hopefully, he’ll be back soon.”
Sir Piers strained his ear, listening. “I do believe that I hear a familiar stutter headed this way. Alex should be here shortly. I must leave soon to check on the situation at home. With luck, I will not return alone. We shall see.”
The German soldiers were already headed for the food tent. The ground crews and pilots followed. Lara sat in one of four folding chairs at a small round table in a shady corner of the space. With tea to drink and a scone to nibble on, she settled in to people watch. It always fascinated her when costumed civilians and military reenactors intermingled. And she loved listening to the reenactors who regaled each other with stories. It truly was like stepping back in time.
Being a single female, sitting alone and therefore perceived as available, she halfway expected to be approached by the men, and possibly some of the women. Introducing herself as a non-vetted performer worked like a charm. Most of these people were here to play.
The only one who seemed to not mind that she couldn’t was Dmitry. But then, she suspected that he looked upon her as a special challenge. He took his time coming over, accepting accolades from the other reenactors and chatting with a few other guests. Helping himself to a plate of late breakfast and a cup of coffee, he headed straight for her.
“I sit here, da?”
Lara managed to not smile. “If that’s a question—May yousit here?—the answer is yes. Yes, you may sit with me.”
Dmitry took the chair to her right. His plate was heavy on protein and lower on carbs. He spiked his coffee with a dash of whatever he was carrying in an antique silver flask. Slipping it back inside his brown leather aviator’s jacket, he flashed an unrepentant grin. “A touch,” he said. “Safe to fly later. Safe to sit now. Tonight, I listen to you. When done, maybe you listen to me. We see.”
Alex’s voice dashed the flame that Dmitry’s smoldering delivery had ignited inside her, but only for a moment. Alex and Dmitry were rivals in the air, but were they willing to share? She didn’t want to choose between them. She wanted them both, if only for the weekend.
Which brought her to all of the obstacles that must be overcome. She wasn’t vetted. If the men could be talked into a threesome, it would be vanilla sex in Dmitry’s room at the resort, quiet kink at her bed and breakfast, or permission to use the St. Leger’s Dungeon for a full-blown session of kinky f**kery.
She knew what she wanted.
Lara wanted it all.
“Alex,” Lara chirped, hoping that she managed to sound relatively innocent. So many naughty thoughts were in her head right now, her mind was doing a spin that would have earned her a nine point five at the Winter Olympics. “Won’t you join us?”
Dmitry bristled, but she ignored it. Better to find out now if there was hope for both men tonight. They would have to agree on a number of things—first and foremost, could they play with her together, or would she need to keep them apart?
Alex looked at his plate, at Dmitry, at her. “I believe that I shall. Thank you.” He took the chair to her left, sandwiching her between them.
Alex’s plate was a balance of protein and carbs. He and Dmitry had both taken sausage links and scrambled eggs, but Alex had added hash browns, a biscuit with butter and jelly, and several pieces of fresh fruit. Dmitry had opted for half a biscuit smothered in sausage gravy and no potatoes.
Dmitry seemed to be enjoying the Russian equivalent of Irish coffee. Alex drank milk and nodded approvingly at her tea.
“So, tell me,” she said, looking at Alex. “This morning’s combat. From down here, it looked like you two were going to take each other out. When you’re sharing airspace, how close do you get before you pull away?”
He sliced an apologetic glance at Dmitry. “Today, closer than I like. The controls were slow to respond. I’ll check it out before I take her up again.”
Lara took a breath and looked at Dmitry, too. “You didn’t try to avoid him. No evasive action that I saw, anyway.””
Dmitry shrugged as if it were no big deal. “He was close. I wait. He move.”
“Well,” she said, glancing at each man, connecting them with her gaze, “I’ve seen you share airspace. I was wondering if—hoping that?—I might tempt you to share more. Just so you know, I’m not a trained submissive. I’ve never done anything much beyond having my wrists tied, wearing a blindfold, and getting spanked. Pretty vanilla, I know. But I’m willing, if you are. Except that not being vetted limits us to what we can do on Replay property. I’m going to leave you two to figure it out. Come tonight and hear me sing. After the concert, you can tell me what you want to do.”
She left them sitting, speechless. It was a temporary state, she was certain. While she went to look at the airplanes, they were probably stabbing at their breakfasts and dueling with each other for supremacy.
There can be only one…
Could two Doms be in control? She thought so. She hoped so. One thing was certain. If they wanted her, they’d have to learn to share.
Want to turn up the heat on your sexy Sunday? Download Allysa Hart’s hot new book, A Well Placed Wish, and get ready to bask in that sizzling heat! Here’s what you need to know about this steamy spanking romance…
I lost everything, was shipped off to live with an aunt I barely knew, and was put to work cleaning her dilapidated antique shop.
And then, I met Callum.
Or should I say I released him?
I was a socialite with a strong sense of entitlement and a lot of anger.
He was a Dominant genie with a hard body and an even harder hand.
It could never work.
If you like the blurb, read on for a saucy little teaser…
“You, little girl, need a Daddy.” Callum’s voice echoed.
“Yeah? Are you applying for the position?” I shot back with all of the sass I had.
Approaching me, he took my wrists in a tight hold, backed me against the wall and pinned my hands above my head. “Consider me the only applicant, because no one touches what’s mine. And you are most definitely mine.”
With one hand holding me still he used the other to lift up my night shirt and expose my breasts. I took in a sharp breath as his thumb zeroed in on my nipple and teased. His eyes stayed trained on mine as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, my breathing labored. Luckily, his hold stayed fast because when his gentle teasing turned to sharp pinches, my knees buckled.
His lips found my neck and he chuckled sending vibrations straight to my pussy. “My girl likes it rough, huh?”
I whimpered in need.
“Don’t cry, baby. Daddy is going to put out that little fire. Be a good girl and keep your hands where I put them.”
Serenity has just crossed a line. In an attempt to defend her best friend, the free-spirited, flaxen-haired young woman has challenged the leader of the Bathus, a clan of barbarians that live in a castle ruin above her tiny village.
The leader’s son, Killian, decides to chastise her with a sound spanking, and throwing her over his shoulder he carries her away to be punished. Serenity, however, is made of tough stuff. Even with a stinging backside she is unafraid, and yelling her fury she storms off, leaving him stunned and in disbelief.
But when the anger fades, she can’t stop thinking about him.
A short time later a rival clan attacks and they are thrown together. Their smouldering chemistry flames, but in the heat of their blazing passion they uncover a diabolical plot that threatens their lives, and the future of the entire clan.
“Storytelling at its best!” The love story is amazing, dangerous, and full of ups and downs. The humour is laugh out loud funny. A sizzling romance full of danger, sprinkled with humour, and an action-packed plot that will keep you guessing.
Check out this scintillating spanking excerpt:
He stopped, and craning her neck she was able to see him pushing open a tall dark wooden door. He didn’t have to bend down to pass through it, and the room they entered was far grander than any she’d ever imagined. The furniture was made from rough wood, but the room was expansive and boasted a huge bed covered in fur, a wide table with several seats, and a fireplace with furry pelts covering the floor directly in front of it. She was expecting him to sit down and bend her over his lap, and she nervously waited, but he continued to move around the room carrying her over his shoulder, apparently searching for something.
“Can you please put me down?”
She had used her soft, pleading voice, the one that had worked surprisingly well with Bastian, and was always effective with her parents.
“I have yet to punish you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hush, you will, ah, there it is.”
He leaned slightly forward, and though her vantage point didn’t allow her to see what he was picking up, a moment later a hard piece of wood was laying against the full width of her bottom.
“What you feel is my punishment paddle. It is what I use to discipline my women, and now it will discipline you. I would advise you not to put your hands behind you. Usually I tie the wrists before putting a woman over my shoulder, but perhaps it is good you’re not bound. You will learn to obey.”
“If you do not do as I tell you, and try to use your hands to cover your backside, the paddle will hit your knuckles. Nothing stops me from swatting once I begin.”
“But, uh, how long will you—?”
“Three turns, beginning now.”
Serenity had no idea what he’d meant by three turns, and she didn’t have time to ask. The paddle abruptly landed with its hot sting, and letting out a loud yelp, it took all her fortitude not to throw her arms behind her and grab her seat. As he stepped forward he spanked her again, and she urgently clutched his shirt. The paddle struck once more, and this time she squirmed in his hold.
“OWWW, please, stop, it hurts.”
He didn’t respond, but continued his slow walk, swinging the paddle with each stride. The rhythm was steady, and though the predictability helped, it did nothing to mitigate the searing heat permeating her backside. Squeezing her eyes shut, she cried loudly with every swat, until at last he stopped.
“That was one turn,” he declared. “You’ll have a moment then I shall resume.”
Opening her eyes, she looked around and discovered he’d stopped where he’d started; a turn was a circle of his room.
“Two more? No, please, no. I can’t bear it.”
“You must. You have no choice, but the second turn I will be using my hand.”
He moved the few steps to the table and set down the paddle, and though she felt a shred of relief, it was short-lived. To her horror he began sliding up her dress.
“NO! Do not bare me, please, no, sir, no.”
“Sir? The wench is learning, but when I punish, you must call me Master.”
“Master, please don’t expose me.”
“Had you not been so rude and difficult, I wouldn’t. You deserve it.”
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Brandy Coleman’s face is flaming red. As the owner of a barn for retired horses she’s had her share of mishaps, but nothing can compare to this deeply embarrassing moment. She is looking up at a stranger who has the dreamiest hazel eyes she’s ever seen, and a six pack beneath his open shirt that is making her knees weak. The problem? Her hose burst and squirted water everywhere, leaving her hair a tangled mess and her clothes absolutely drenched.
Logan Scott has arrived at Rainbow’s End Ranch to apply for a job as a ranch hand. He is led into the barn by an exuberant Golden Retriever where he is met by a stunning sight. A gorgeous girl, dripping wet, is bent over wrapping a towel around her head. As she straightens up he can’t help but notice her thin pink T-shirt is clinging to her luscious curves.
The sparks fly, Brandy hires him, but as the days pass a threat looms over the ranch…and Brandy herself.
A known thug wants her property and won’t take no for an answer. Logan declares he’s changing his job description from ranch hand to bodyguard, and to keep her safe, Brandy will have to do as he says. Will she…?
LOGAN:Cowboy Bodyguard is a steamy love story laced with danger and suspense. Like all Maggie Carpenter books it is a riveting page-turner with unexpected twists. Pick up your copy today, and escape to the romance at Rainbow’s End Ranch.
Here’s a hot spanking taster from the book… (18+ content!)
Feeling a hot rush ripple through her body, she rose to her feet and headed across to the stove. In a large copper pot she had a variety of utensils, and selecting three wooden spoons she quickly returned, placed them in front of him, then pulled down her jeans and underwear.
“This is the weakest,” he said picking up one that was relatively thin. “This is better,” he continued, slapping the second into the palm of his hand, “and this here would be the most painful,” he finished, selecting the last which was larger and heavier. “Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” she nodded, gazing down at them and wondering where Logan was going with the conversation.
“You’re gonna get six swats on each cheek, one side for gallopin’ off, and the other for carryin’ on at Lyle. You decide which spoon you deserve.”
“Me?” she asked, her eyes wide. “What if I guess wrong?”
“This isn’t a test. You can’t guess wrong. Tell me which spoon you think you deserve.”
“Uh, well not the first, but the third would be too much. I know I have to learn to control my temper and not jump the gun, but it takes time to change, and it wasn’t purposely defiant. I didn’t sit there and say to myself, I know this is wrong but I’m going to do it anyway, so, uh, the middle one, that would be right.”
“I agree,” he said picking it up and rising to his feet. “Elbows on the table and arch your back. There are only two rules. Don’t put your hands behind you and don’t kick out. If you do either of those things I’ll start over. Any questions?”
“No, Sir,” she replied, her butterflies turning into a thousand tiny gymnasts as she assumed the position.
“This is for takin’ off down that hill without so much as a word to me. You didn’t ask what I thought, or even if I wanted to go with you. I’m your bodyguard. Get that through your head!”
“Yes, Sir, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to think twice next time.”
“If there is a next time, and you bolt like that again, it’ll be twelve hard swats with the heavy spoon,” he scolded. “Got it?”
Brandy stared out the window and clenched her teeth as she waited for the first smack. He was smoothing the back of the spoon across her skin, and when he tapped it lightly she assumed it meant he was about to start. She was right. The first swat landed with a keen sting, and squeezing her eyes shut she swallowed back her yelp. The second landed in a different spot but hurt just as bad and was followed quickly by the third.
“OWW! Sir, OWW, that hurts,” she exclaimed squirming her hips. “Ouch, ouch, ouch.”
“You do understand it’s supposed to hurt,” he declared pausing for a moment. “That’s why it’s called correction, or punishment if you prefer that word.”
“Yes, Sir. I do know it’s supposed to hurt, but damn.”
“Are you learning?”
“Most definitely, Sir.”
“Are you ready for the next three?”
He had purposely delivered the swats with force. This was her first punishment spanking, and if they were going to move forward, and she really did want discipline and direction from him, she needed to understand that’s exactly what she would get. He landed the next three rapidly and just as hard, the last landing on her sit spot.
“OW, shit, shit shit!”
“I did say you’d be drivin’ to Brownsville on a hot seat, and I meant it, Brandy.”
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“You are bound by the rules of this century, not yours. I shall hold you accountable in whatever way I wish.”
Twenty-three-year-old Kelly Regan didn’t expect much excitement when she took a job as a curator at a historic estate, but upon encountering a beautiful, mysteriously powerful mirror she suddenly finds herself transported back to the Victorian era.
Kelly is intrigued by the estate’s owner, the handsome bachelor Sir Henry Yarlswood, and in order to learn more about life in his household she impersonates another woman and obtains a position as his maid. But Henry is not a man who tolerates dishonestly from his staff, and after her deception is discovered Kelly’s bottom is bared for a painful, embarrassing spanking.
The stern punishment only increases Kelly’s desire to know more about her handsome employer, but after she is caught snooping through his personal effects she soon finds herself stripped naked for an even more shameful chastisement. Despite her sore bottom, however, she is deeply aroused by Henry’s firm-handed dominance, and when he claims her properly his masterful lovemaking leaves her spent and satisfied. But will their blossoming romance be enough to keep her by his side, even if it means leaving her old life behind forever?
Publisher’s Note: A Strict Gentleman includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
If this has whetted your appetite, then brace yourself for this sizzling little spanking excerpt…
Henry paused and flexed the rod before swishing it through the air a few times. It was a horrible sound, unmistakable. Her fantasy scenario of moaning girls and probing dominants with frisky fingers was nothing like the strict application of Henry’s cane.
“I wish to know, young lady,” Henry said as he continued to swish the cane through the air, “have you taken anything from this room?”
Taken? She’d looked in his journal, but not taken it. “No, sir,” she gasped.
The cane struck with a resounding thud and she drummed the palms of her hand on the seat of the chair. “No, I haven’t,” she repeated.
“Please keep your head up, Kelly. The mirror is there for both our benefits.”
He noticed she liked to look at him and he was using it to observe her too. It was an odd moment of reassurance. If he could see her face, the tears, the pained expression, he must be judging whether she was coping or on the verge of collapse. Was Henry so cruel as to want her to faint? She doubted it. Nothing she’d read in his journal, assuming he accurately portrayed his activities, implied he sought a woman’s injury or committed harmful acts. The cane stung like crazy, but it wasn’t being wielded with force, only accuracy.
She raised her head and stared at him. He nodded, then to her amazement, he stepped toward her behind and with his forefinger traced the line of the cane.
Kelly gasped, not because it hurt or made the mark throb any harder, but because it was tender and curative. For a few seconds she was thrilled, excited, and perversely aroused by that delicate touch. Now she throbbed in a new spot; her little nub was aching to be noticed.
“Because I know,” he said, stepping back, “that taken objects can be returned to their correct location without being missed.” He cracked the cane swiftly against her bottom.