Search Results for: leather ever after

everafterLeather Ever After: An Anthology of Kinky Fairy Tales edited by Sassafras Lowrey

Link to buy


Story Rating: 5 out of 5 paddles

Sting Factor (kink): 4 out of 5


This book is an anthology of eighteen short stories, as well as a forward by Laura Antoniou, author of ‘The Marketplace’ series. The stories are Fairy Tales, but with a twist, or should we say a kink. You may not recognize all of the fairy tales, I did not, but they all have the fairy tale feel to them. While you may not know which fairy tale a story is based on, if you have any knowledge of fairy tales, you will recognize the story form. Each one is unique and covers a multitude of kinks. These stories are not simply sex scene after sex scene, but each one does revolve around a particular kink. There is not one story in this book worth skipping. Each is a little masterpiece in itself. Not all may appeal to you, but they each allow a peek at a particular aspect of the leather kink community. Oh, and don’t skip the forward by Laura Antoniou. She sets the mood for the entire book right off the bat and makes one want to dive in to the tales and fall in to the world of fairy tales.

These stories are all interesting and worth reading in their own right. It seems appropriate for a book titled “Leather Ever After” that the first story and last story are very specific to the Leather community.

#1 ‘Each Step for Him’ by Lee Harrington, starts with a chance meeting on a beach and culminates in the wearing of leather and an old school Leather collaring ceremony.

#18 ‘The Little Boot Black’ by Sassafras Lowrey, a tale involving a young boot black, and the dreaming and reverence for boot blacking rings pure and simple and captures the true essence of a vital part of the Leather community.

The easily identifiable (at least for me), well easy except for those pesky kinky twists applied, fairy tales were:

#3 ‘House of Sweets’ by Miss Lola Sunshine turns the Hansel & Gretel story into a scene in a  dungeon with good old fashioned needle play and pushing boundary limits.

#5 ‘Hair Like Gold’ by Nalu Kalani, shows a new way to use all that extra long hair rather than to just climb a tower, 

#6 ‘The Mistress and the Pea’ by Cynthia Hamilton, with a Prince Charming in search of a Mistress, not just a Princess.

#10 ‘Snow Fight’ by Rob Rosen will have Sleeping Beauty sleeping a good long while as the Prince and the Huntsman have their own way of working out who gets to kiss her.

#12 ‘Golden Twink and the Three Bears’ by Elizabeth “Jake” Hart introduces you to the idea of kinky bears (no, not those kind of bears) and the too hard, too soft and just right gets a whole new meaning when applied to kink implements.

#14 ‘The Wolf and little Red’ by Alysia Angel uses Halloween as its vehicle and lets us peek in the windows of a seemingly traditional couple and what happens when one lets out their inner Wolf.

#16 ‘Cinderfella’ by Sossity Chiriuzio shows that maybe Cinderella was different from her step-mother and step-sisters due to a different outlook on what happiness means and that not every Princess is looking for a Prince.

The other stories are, I am quite sure, based on Fairy Tales as well, but one would need to perhaps read a little more Grimm to know the specific one. However, even if one does not know the fairy tale where it originates does not mean you will not enjoy the story. They all have the fairy tale feel to them and help to give a new meaning to what “Happily Ever After” truly means.

#2 ‘Blue Beard’s Ghost by Ariel Dalziel, shows a young wife introduced to BDSM by her evil husband, who gets his fairy tale ending.

#4 ‘The Suitor’ by Miel Rose shows that happiness is not always found where others expect you to find it, but can be found, in a fairy tale, in a magical being better suited to a Princess’s wants and needs.

#7 ‘The Red Shoes’ by Hosha takes us on a journey of discovery by a young girl in a cobbler shop inspired by two pairs of shoes in the window, a pair of strong black Domme boots and a pair of red high heeled ballet bondage shoes.

#8 ‘The Seven Swan Princes’ by DL King has brothers being turned in to swans by an evil accountant and the heroine and her brothers rescued by a Goth Prince who is also able to vanquish the evil.

#9 ‘The Good Witch’ by Ali Oh puts us in to the mind of the Wicked Witch, showing things are done because they need to be done, and a Good Witch who likes a little Wicked, in more ways than one.

#11 ‘Down Under’ by Raven Kaldera is a totally outrageous fairy tale with beings that are not quite human anymore, but still with human needs and wants. This is a story of good being rewarded, and evil being punished. As are all good fairy tales. More or less.

#13 ‘Iron Henry’ by Karen Taylor is based on an alternative title for The Frog Prince. Iron Henry was the servant of the prince. This story is about service, and finding one’s true place in the universe, regardless of how many “frogs” cross your path along the way.

#15 ‘Not Enough Storms’ by Goldie Dartmouth is a fairy tale about…….fairies. In fact it involves three different types of fairies, all of which have their own idea of kink, and what life is all about.

#17 ‘Lady Leporine’ by Mollena Williams is all about getting what one deserves. For anybody who has ever been in a dungeon with a particularly obnoxious dungeon resident who never gets their comeuppance, this story is for you. 

This is just a quick look at the different stories in this book. Buy this book, turn the lights down, get the fire burning, curl up with someone under a blanket with hot chocolate at your elbow and kick back and enjoy a kinky fairy tale or two. Or eighteen.

Reviewed by: Master Peter Raven

From the pen and mind of USA Today Bestselling Author Daizie Draper comes Sorority Saint: Domination & Dance Collide, a sizzling collision of dance and domination in one spicy-hot romance. Thanks for checking out her cover reveal. 

Don’t forget to enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card.

When Jason, a brash and cocky jazz musician and house Dom, comes to the aid of a shy, conservative dancer who is mugged outside the BDSM club where he works, he offers to scratch her curious itch and teach her about BDSM in exchange for her dancing in his music video. The heat their opposite proclivities stir up is too scorching hot for them to ignore, but indulging in passion and kink just might destroy them both. 

Author: Daizie Draper
Publisher: Pink Cocktail Publishing
Length: 308 pages
Type: Steamy stand-alone BDSM romance, complete, no cliffhanger

I know I’m sexy. It’s why they
come to me, hunt me down, beg so sweetly. Be my pirate. Be my daddy. Be my
prince. For some reason, she doesn’t beg, even though she kinda sorta wants
to—Shayna, that self-righteous, prissy little saint with ballerina grace. After
I tend to the sorority girl when she’s mugged at the BDSM club where I’m a
House Dom, she agrees to dance in my jazz-rock video in exchange for me
teaching her the ins and outs of Dominance and submission that she’s oh-so
curious about. Oh, I’ll teach her all right. But I wanna tick her off first.
Her fury’s just as sexy as her splits. She fights me, goes toe-to-toe, gets
hot, but she lets the angel on her shoulder govern her every move and keep her
from knowing erotic bliss. I just know a naughty devil’s in there. And I’m
gonna free hers, then tie it up and spank it and drive it wild with savage lust
so it has the drive to duke it out with the haloed thrill-robber who’s held the
victor’s belt for way too long. My money’s on the bad girl.
Will I go to Hell for corrupting a saint? Don’t know. But
after she dove into her panties and showed me those glossy fingers upon command
when she should’ve slapped me instead, I’d gladly take on any inferno to find
out just how naughty and subalicious she truly is. And I will, provided we
don’t kill each other first with our verbal daggers or gropey hands.


Only 99 cents for a limited time.

Just in time for Valentine’s day!

Coming February 14th to Amazon and KU.


Daizie Draper is a happily married sex fiend, who loves to write
naughty stories that mix the sweetness of chocolate with the bite of leather.
She likes sensuality, kink, fruit, impressionistic art, spanking and beauty.
She hates big bugs, freedom crushers, injustice, artificial orange and onions.
Along with 27 other people in the world, she has never read Fifty Shades of
. Her other works include Sorority
Pledge Saga
, Unlocking the Billionaire,
Rock Candy, Christmas on the Run and Nothing But Trouble.
For new release info, sign up for Daizie’s
Delicious Dirt
To get freebies, ARCs and swag goodies as a
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redefined500x750Who’s Your Daddy?

Daddies. Littles. Even in the BDSM community, people who identify as part of this subset are on the fringe. Though the BDSM community as a whole is misunderstood and maligned, even within the community, this dynamic leaves many people scratching their heads. I had the occasion to meet many littles through a Facebook group that I joined. My interest piqued, I researched the dynamic. After all, I knew that papi means ‘daddy’ in Spanish, but it’s also slang for a hot guy. Was this pretty much the same thing?

Of course, my writer brain churned this new knowledge. It mixed with characters I’d already created, and I had a Eureka moment. I’d been struggling with Amy and Jordan. I knew they belonged together, but it wasn’t until I researched the Daddy Dom/little (D/l or DD/l) dynamic that I understood what they were hiding from me. Then I followed up on my research by interviewing several people who identify as a DD or lg. (Please note that there are Mommies and little boys, but I haven’t encountered any, so I restricted my writing to focus on male Doms and female subs.) That’s when Re/Defined coalesced for me. Jordan is a Daddy Dom, and he’s on the hunt for his little soul mate. Of course, Amy doesn’t know she’s a little. She’s never heard of the concept.

Let’s take a moment and clear up the most common misconception:

  • The relationship between a Daddy and a little is not the same as between a father and daughter, and there is no age play involved—that’s something else entirely.

In fact, in Re/Defined, Amy is six years older than Jordan. Like any worthwhile dominant, Jordan, as a Daddy Dom, is a responsible alpha male who feels a driving need to take care of his submissive. He’s playful and indulgent, walking that fine line between spoiling and reining in his submissive. In this case, he wants to guide Amy in her journey as she discovers who she really is.

That leads to clarifying another common misconception:

  • Littles are grown women with all the wants, needs, and complications that come with adulthood.

Littles are women who sometimes feel like part of them is still a child. Amy likes to color, watch movies aimed at children, and she likes to wear clothes with flowers on them. She has a childlike spirit and an underlying innocence, and Jordan is very attracted to this aspect of her personality. He enjoys having fun just as much as she does, which shows in the places he chooses to take her on their dates.

Finally, let’s clear up another big misconception:

  • The sex in a D/l relationship is no different from sex in a vanilla or BDSM relationship. The kinks are separate from the D/l dynamic and are specific to the people involved.

Jordan is into bondage and sensory play. The sexual element of their play does not take place when Amy is in “little” headspace. Re/Defined (Doms of the FBI 4) follows a woman as she falls in love and finds out who she really is—while running from a ruthless killer who will stop at nothing to get rid of her.

Amazon buy link:

Michele Zurlo’s Website:

Twitter: @MZurloAuthor


Blurb: Amy Markevich nurses fantasies about dominant agent Jordan Monaghan, but she knows they’ll never come true. He’s younger, to-die-for handsome, and so very different from her. She settles for friendship and dreaming from afar, even when he agrees to show her the platonic side of submission.

Jordan has always known what he wanted, and as he gets to know Amy, he’s convinced that she’s the complete package. Her sexy curves and passionate nature contrast sharply with her childlike innocence and exuberant joie de vivre. She calls to him—body and soul.

Just as he’s about to reveal that he’s a Daddy Dom and that he suspects Amy harbors an inner “little” and a submissive side, Amy witnesses a gruesome murder, and a terrorist organization puts her on top of their most-wanted list.

As they are forced to run for their lives from this unexpected enemy, Jordan helps Amy to accept her true nature—as a little—and to redefine everything she thought she knew about belonging to him.

Warnings: anal play, mini-golf, bondage, sensory play, suction cups, and laser tag.


Did she want steak or lasagna, or did she want to let Jordan tie her up and do things that belonged to the mysterious Sensory Play category? Amy frowned as she lined up her shot for the sixteenth hole. He was putting no pressure on her at all. After they’d finished their ice cream, he hadn’t brought it up. She felt his touch on her hip, pushing it into alignment to improve her aim. Relaxing, she let him correct her stance. “Thanks.”

“You’re getting better. By the end of the course, you’ll have it down.”

It had occurred to her that she could continue doing it wrong just so he’d keep touching her, but then, she reasoned, he’d eventually give up, and she’d still be doing it wrong. She hit the ball a little too hard, and it sailed past the cup. “Darn.”

“Not bad. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You came close, and that’s an improvement.” He lined up his shot and sank it neatly.

“Would we negotiate everything beforehand? Plan out every detail?”

“No.” He didn’t pretend to not know she’d changed the topic. “If you had any experience, then yes, we could do that. For this, I’d try a few different things so you could decide what you do and don’t like.”

She thought about that as she tapped her ball into the cup. “What if I don’t like it?”

He retrieved their balls. “You’re familiar with the concept of safewords.”

She didn’t have the sense he’d asked a question, more that he wanted her to explain what she knew. “I know the stoplight system. Red halts everything. Yellow pauses the scene for communication, adjustments, and bathroom breaks.” Once she’d come to accept that the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t a form of abuse, her sister had opened up about many of nitty-gritty details. And she’d heard the guys talk about being dominant. They took the safety precaution aspects of it very seriously.

“So you’ll have safewords. I’ll be talking to you a lot so you’ll know you’re not alone.”

It hadn’t occurred to her that he would leave her alone when she was in a vulnerable position. She set her ball on the tee, lined up the shot, and took a swing. It rounded the bank perfectly, bounced twice from the edges of the narrowed curve that linked the two parts of this tricky hole together, avoided the waterfall, and went straight into the cup. Her draw dropped. She looked at Jordan, her eyes so wide she felt they might pop out. “You saw that, right?”

He wore a wide grin. “Your stance was perfect.”

Dropping her putter, she clapped her hands over her heart. “A hole in one. I never thought I’d be able to do that.”

He hugged her with one arm and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You can do anything you set your mind to, little one.”

“Yes.” She didn’t necessarily agree with him, but she was no longer talking about her amazing feat. “I want to try it with you.”

“All right. Let’s finish this, and then I’ll take you to my place.”

She’d never been to his place. It made sense that they’d go to his apartment because that’s where his equipment would be located. The drive took a little time because he lived two counties away. They mostly chatted about movies and television shows. She figured he wanted to keep the conversation light to put her at ease.

His apartment was exactly like Jamie had described—pristine and sanitary. Amy chalked that up to his modern décor. There was too much shiny metal and not enough color. It could use some fabric and softness to make it homey. Normally she wouldn’t judge anybody’s home, but this seemed so unlike Jordan. Standing there in a black fitted shirt and worn jeans, his face scruffy from a day’s growth, he didn’t seem to fit. The lack of color was him, but the sharpness of the furniture reminded her that perhaps she didn’t know him all that well.

“What do you think?”

“It’s clean.” She wasn’t going to say anything critical, not to a guy who was planning to tie her up.

He frowned. “You don’t like it.”

“It’s fine. I just pictured your place with more leather, and maybe framed photos of your family on the walls.”

He gestured to the sofa. It was the kind with an exposed metal frame and thin cushions for the seat and back. “It’s more comfortable than it looks. Take off your dress and sit down.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that. She looked at her bright yellow sundress, the only spot of real color in the room. “You want me to get undressed? In here?”

“I need to do a few things before we can begin. If you need to freshen up, the bathroom is the down the hall, first door on the left. When I return, I expect to see that you’ve followed orders.”

His tone had shifted, becoming harder and more commanding. This was definitely his Dom tone. A shiver of anticipation ran up her spine. Finally, being with a Dom seemed right. “Should I call you Sir or something?”

“Let’s hold off on titles for now.” He disappeared down the hall.

Amy made use of the bathroom. She combed her fingers through her hair and redid her ponytail, and then she checked to make sure she didn’t have anything weird going on with the parts of her skin that would be exposed. Standing in front of the mirror wearing only her bra and underwear was a sobering experience. Though she’d worn her prettiest, laciest underthings, there was no way Jordan was interested in her as anything more than a friend. With a sigh, she hung her dress on a hook on the back of the door. He found her a few minutes later perched on the edge of the sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable, without her dress.

He sat down next to her, but he leaned back and stretched his arm along the back. “What’s your color?”

She stared at her hands, folded neatly on her lap, and hoped he hadn’t meant for her to be completely naked. “Green.”

BDSM. A term that used to be clouded in mystery and evoke images of naked men or women chained to a wall while someone in a black leather outfit, complete with hood, whipped them ’til they cried. Now you hear it tossed around casually by life stylers and vanilla folk alike.


But are we all talking about the same thing? CEFmhMlWgAE7Qdg


Movies and books like 50 Shades of Gray or Secretary have been vilified for portraying a watered-down version of BDSM, while in the porn industry fetish videos showcase every possible permutation of dominance, submission, and even torture.


The truth is, it’s all BDSM yet none of it gives an outsider the whole story.


Like any other fetish or lifestyle, BDSM has levels and subcultures. In a way, it’s a lot like swinging. You find every possible degree of practitioner, from the person who just wants to dip their toe in the water to the one whose entire life revolves around the most hard core of practices.


In my private life, it’s never been something I’ve partaken in except at the beginner level. But as a writer of erotica in all its various shades, I’ve had to do a lot of research. Some of it in person.


My own involvement has always been limited to some kinky hijinks in and out of the bedroom. While I don’t mind a little pain (twist my nipple, slap my ass, tie me to the bed and pull my hair, please!), I am not so enamored of it that I want to be smacked with a hair brush (tried it, no thank you!), flogged with a crop, or gagged to the point where I’m nearly choking. I can be both submissive or dominant in the bedroom, depending on my mood and my partner. I will gladly play the part of a sex slave for my ‘master’ for the night, but it’s role play, not my life. I am no one’s slave, and I don’t want anyone to be mine. Not full time. So my partner and I have dabbled. We have fuzzy handcuffs, ties, and a little notepad filled with dirty suggestions (orders!) for those times when we want to spice things up. As members of the swinging community, we’ve attended a wide range of parties, including the Deviant parties in NYC, where we thought we’d see some real BDSM action. Instead, it was only a step or two above tame, with most folks doing the same kind of thing we enjoyed, except they were dressed in leather while they did it.


So, while we’ve had no problem saying to each other, “get on your knees and service me” (or service that one over there!), neither of us has a desire to see the other ball-gagged, crawling across the floor, and humiliated in front of strangers.


Yet, if you ask someone who’s really into that kind of thing, they won’t call it humiliating, even if it’s a humiliation-oriented activity. Why? Because it’s what they are into. And if you enjoy suffering humiliation, then in a way it’s really not humiliating. The same way that if your partner enjoys being whipped by a crop while manacled to a wall, it’s not torture. It’s a shared kink.


BDSM is all about being at the same point, sharing a joint fantasy or sexual preference or role. If your partner hates to be submissive, it’s not going to work with you being the dominant one all the time. If your partner can’t give up control, then tying them down will only lead to problems. As a person or a couple, you need to find your comfort zone. Experiment a little at a time. I love to be tied to the bed. My partner enjoys doing that. On the other hand, he hates to be tied down. Yet we don’t have permanent dominant-submissive roles. He loves it when I come home, push him down on the bed, and just fuck the shit out of him. And I love it when he does that to me.


Some people start with a little slap here, a little nipple clamp there, and move on to bigger and better things. There are so many stops along the way, from latex and riding crops to asphyxiation, dog training, anal insertion, cum drinking, and even branding. People can go so far into the BDSM culture they allow themselves to be sold as sex slaves. Women tie ropes around their breasts until the flesh turns purple and men turn their scrotums into fishhook advertisements.


Some of it even delves into illegality, but true practitioners always follow the basic rule of consent. No one is ever forced to do anything they don’t want to. For some, that means giving up the right to say no before the fun begins. That’s their choice. Most don’t go that extreme.


For people in the BDSM life style, a film/book like 50 Shades of Gray has two flaws. 1), by most standards, it’s pretty tame. You can see the same level of kink at 50% of the swinger parties you go to. And 2), the concept of submission is confused with consent. Some of the scenes where Gray uses mental and verbal abuse and/or pressure carries more than a whiff of date rape. However, the book served a good purpose in making BDSM, at least at the beginning end of the spectrum, more palatable for the masses, opened the door to some middle of the road acceptance. Much the same way Jenna Jameson did for porn.


On the other hand, torture porn and rape porn still have the opposite effect. They give BDSM a bad reputation, and they shouldn’t. Why? Because once again, it comes down to consent. If a person has a rape fantasy, or wants to be tied up and gang-banged by masked men, who is anyone to say that is wrong? It’s not like these people go door to door trying to convert normal people into their life style (that’s only okay for religious groups, apparently!). And certainly no one is going to be making a mainstream movie about the pleasure of gang rape anytime soon. But everyone deserves the chance to follow their sexual path, no matter how kinky it might be.


And now, I think I’ll head to the bedroom. I’ve got the urge to have some fun tonight. Where is that hot wax candle….?


(For some better-than-decent mainstream BDSM movies, try The Piano Teacher, Preaching to the Perverted, A Dangerous Method, or Venus in Fur.)




Janie James is a former scientist with a lust for love and life. After years of toiling in laboratories and photographing crime scenes, she gave up the 9 to 5 routine to write erotic fiction. When she’s not writing, she enjoys sleeping late, overdosing on coffee, and watching online porn. Her latest story, “True Calling,” can be found in the BDSM anthology, Tie Me Up: A Binding Collection of Erotic Tales (edited by F. Lenora Solomon), available on Amazon.


For more information about Janie James and her writing, visit: 

Rod and Cane Society…a private place to spank CaraBristol_RandCSociety_IrresistibleAttractions_600x900

By Cara Bristol

A common setting in BDSM romances is the dungeon scene, where Doms and subs go to play. This is true in real life, too. Within the sheltered environment of the club scene (and at munches), BDSM practitioners are free to be open about who they are and what they do.

Domestic discipline practitioners, on the other hand, are isolated from each other. About the only source of public connection is the internet, where DD practitioners openly communicate, but under the cloak of anonymity. Spanking bloggers often write about hiding their lifestyle from their children, their families, and their friends, of the difficulty in finding a quiet time and place to spank.

What if it didn’t need to be that way? What if there was an organization, not unlike a BDSM club, where members could associate and be free to be who they are? What would an organization like that look like? What would be the protocols? The rules?

That idea inspired the Rod and Cane Society, a series of novels and novellas, about a secret organization of men who spank their wives to maintain domestic discipline. Each book profiles the romantic and spanking relationship of a different couple in the organization. To date, six books have been written, with more planned. Each novel of the series is a stand-alone, but the Society has grown and evolved.

Although members are open amongst themselves, Rod and Cane places a premium on privacy. Prospective members are vetted and must sign a confidentiality agreement. Security is tight. Guards are stationed outside the inner sanctum, and members must “badge in” using a reader afterhours. Violating confidentiality is a serious offense and leads to official “sanctioning.”

I patterned the Rod and Cane Society after a male-dominated, even chauvinistic “old boys” club. That’s how it debuted in book one, Unexpected Consequences. Only males served on its Board of Governance. Women couldn’t even become full-fledged Rod and Cane members, but were relegated to its’ Wives Auxiliary. But in book two, False Pretenses, the society is outed by an undercover reporter, which spurs the beginning of change and greater openness within the society.

Rod and Cane is headquartered in a Victorian mansion and is filled with artwork of rosy-bottomed women. There is a two-way viewing mirror that separates the governance chamber from the disciplinary chamber where official sanctions are meted out.

The disciplinary chamber features prominently in the just-released Irresistible Attractions. Thinking no one will know, the cleaning girl decides to try out the equipment. But she forgets about the viewing window…

An excerpt from Irresistible Attractions

Vacuuming finished, she wound the cord around the cleats and pushed the machine into the hall, remembering how she’d gotten flustered and left it on the elevator. Jordan Bevy must have thought she was a ditz. Naturally she would make an ass of herself in front of the sexiest man she’d ever encountered. He made the guys at her college look like little kids.

Hannah halted in the doorway giving the room a final perusal. Spic and spank. Dust free. Paddles aligned in neat rows. Benches polished.

She eyed her favorite. Gorgeous cherry grain. Slick, smooth leather, the kind resistant to sweat stains, she suspected. In her fantasies, she knelt on that bench. Dare she try it out for real? Doing so violated the rules, but it wouldn’t disturb anything, and tonight might be her sole chance. Amberlyn would come back—or Tidy Titans would replace her. Either way, she’d never be alone in the mansion again.

Before she lost her nerve, she strode to the apparatus. Spastic butterflies beat frantic wings in her stomach as she knelt on the lower padded seat and relaxed her torso atop the upper one. She wiggled her wrists into the leather loops attached to the front legs. She peeked over her shoulder at her reflection and winced at her big booty, covered in unattractive gray wash-and-wear cotton poly. Not her best feature. Why couldn’t she have had a cute little butt to go along with her short stature?

Hannah freed her hands from the restraints and tugged up the skirt. Her lace thong left her backside near naked. Twisting her arm, she swatted one pasty cheek. Smack! Smack! Buns of steel? More like jiggles of Jell-O. She slapped herself several more times. It was hard to get a good swing. If only she had longer arms…

Or an implement.

Hannah scurried to the wall and snatched a short, slender cane then hopped back on the bench and hiked her dress over her waist again.

She tapped herself with the rod. More kiss than slap, it imparted only a slight sting. Tightening her grip, she swung a little harder. Ow! She wiggled her bottom. Nice tingle, but it disappeared too fast.

She was so bad. This was breaking every rule and some that hadn’t been written yet. Tidy Titans’ Rule No. 35: Do not try out clients’ spanking equipment.

Hannah giggled and landed another strike on her bottom. “You’re a naughty girl,” she chided aloud, imagining her fantasy man saying it. But, this time, he had Jordan Bevy’s face.

“Yes, you are a naughty girl,” boomed Jordan’s very real voice.

Irresistible Attractions Blurb

College student Hannah Laurie works nights for a cleaning service. Among its clients is the Rod and Cane Society, an organization of domestic discipline practitioners. As she cleans the mansion headquarters, she becomes fascinated by the idea of being spanked. One evening, she surrenders to the impulse to try out the equipment in the secret disciplinary chamber.

Millionaire cybersecurity magnate Jordan Bevy, Rod and Cane’s disciplinary proctor, ensures the rules of the organization are followed to a T. Using the disciplinary chamber for personal pleasure is strictly forbidden. But when he catches the shy little cleaner girl trying out the equipment, what’s a fellow to do but bend the rules and give her a hand?

Everything seems like fun and games, until their relationship deepens and their respective worlds collide and clash. Can a lowly cleaner girl ever find acceptance in her boyfriend’s monied world?

All Rod and Cane Society novels are written to be read as standalones.


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Cara Bristol website/blog

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My ideas for erotic stories and books always seem to just pop into my head, usually when I’m not even thinking about writing. Indeed, brainstorming for ideas doesn’t work for me. Inspiration comes on its own or not at all. Virtual Reality Mistress_wbanner

Until recently, when the muse has visited me she invariably only left a small seed of an idea, and I had to figure out how to grow it into something that devotees of dark erotica might enjoy reading. Sometime around Thanksgiving of last year I had a flash of insight for a storyline that was so obvious and simple that the book that ultimately resulted from it nearly wrote itself. For some reason I had been thinking about virtual reality when it suddenly occurred to me that virtual reality would be the perfect way for many people to explore and indulge in BDSM. I suppose if I wasn’t a writer of D/s erotica that train of thought might have ended with a wistful what if or wouldn’t that be cool? Instead, I wrote Virtual Reality Mistress so all the smut readers in the leather community can vicariously live out that fantasy. And, if there is a God, perhaps some kinky techie out there will be inspired by it to make Virtual Reality Mistress a reality!

Jim Lyon



 By Jim Lyon


Just about everyone who uses the Internet has had the experience of frittering away several hours meandering from one website to another, finally ending up at some esoteric destination without having any idea how they got there. That was how I found myself reading a niche blog about state-of-the-art virtual reality software and accouterments at two o’clock one Sunday morning. Just before I was ready to move on to another content watering hole where I could slake the thirst of my insomnia, I was drawn to the image of a femme fatale featured in an advertisement that boldly proclaimed that I could live out all my sexual fantasies in the privacy and safety of my own home by purchasing the Virtual Reality Mistress. Well, naturally I clicked on the ad to learn more about this intriguing opportunity; it was, after all, time for me to waste time somewhere else anyway.

I wasn’t overly surprised when the click-through from the advertisement took me to a page on You have to love Jeff Bezos, his company will sell just about anything you might conceivably want, at a very reasonable price, and ship it to your door usually within three business days. After reading all of the product’s features and benefits and viewing a brief video that simulated a session with the mistress, I rewarded Jeff’s faith in unfettered commerce by purchasing this technological marvel that suddenly struck me as something I absolutely needed to own, all for the low, low price of $129.99 plus shipping and handling.

The following Wednesday afternoon, when I heard the telltale sounds of a FedEx driver dropping off a package on the front porch and racing back to his truck without so much as knocking once or ringing my doorbell, I knew that the Virtual Reality Mistress had arrived. I felt slightly giddy and lightheaded as I retrieved the package from the spot where the FedEx guy had so blithely tossed it. With near-reverence I gingerly placed the box on a table and set about opening it and inspecting the contents. JIM-LYON-AVATAR

The ensemble included a console designed to plug into my computer’s USB port, a Bluetooth earbud, ultrasleek wraparound viewing goggles, an ample quantity of stick-on sensors, and several body cavity probes. As I read the instructions, I learned that all the accessories interfaced with the mother ship via Wi-Fi. Without question, I was duly impressed with my new acquisition.

I spent the better part of the next two afternoons filling out questionnaires, taking a lengthy personality test, and inputting data regarding my interest in, experience with, and knowledge of every imaginable fetish. One particularly grueling assessment involved viewing a seemingly endless array of provocative images and short videos while wearing the sensors and probes. Collectively these various activities were programming the Virtual Reality Mistress to cater to my unique sexual predilections and sensibilities. By the time I was finished my entire being was atwitter with anticipation.

Following the advice of the manufacturer, I used the lowest intensity setting for my test drive, with the duration timed at only ten minutes. After removing all my clothes, I carefully placed the sensors at the recommended locations—which included the tip of my cock and the center of my ball sac—inserted a probe in my anus, and donned the earbud and snazzy goggles before pressing the start button. During the brief pause before the session engaged I was nearly breathless with excitement.


forbiddencoverForbidden Escapades by Anya Howard

Link to buy Forbidden Escapades: Three Erotic Spanking Tales

Story Rating: 4 out of 5 paddles

Sting Factor (kink): 4 out of 5


In Forbidden Escapades, author Anya Howard gives us three wonderfully crafted and nice erotic OTK (Over The Knee) stories. What sets them apart from other OTK stories is what is woven through each story. These are not your basic meet-up, have a good time in the local dungeon type stories. Each one involves that indefinable something called love. Yes, love in a D/s or M/s relationship. Oh, the scandal. ON it comes across as a very equal love that goes both ways between the parties involved. The scenes in each story are hot in their own right, but when the added spice of love is included, it raises it a little higher.

In the first story, “Forbidden”, we meet Ethan and Vicki who share a “mutually consensual” Dom/sub relationship. The “L” factor comes in to play straight away as Vicki thinks a more correct title for her would be love slave. The story gets going right away with Vicki waking up horny and deciding to play with Ethan, while Ethan is still sleeping. Love a story that starts its first sex scene on page two, and yet took time enough to actually introduce the characters. Kudos to the author, it is appreciated by the reader.

In rather short order this idea backfires on Vicki and Ethan flexes a little (a lot?) of climax control on her, including instructing her to be a good girl and not pleasure herself while he is away at work. There would not be much of a story if Vicki is able to obey this command, and happily for the reader, she cannot. As the title of the book states, these are erotic spanking tales, so it is obvious to all Vicki will be caught and have to pay the price. Does knowing this in advance take anything away from the enjoyment of reading the scenes? Not in the least. One keeps waiting for her to get caught then tries to anticipate how the punishment will be played out. A great first story to get one’s motor revving with multiple sex scenes and a fun punishment. Well, fun for some.

Our second story, “The Chamberlain’s Discipline”, is a period piece taking place at the turn of the last century (1904) in Ireland. The Ireland part does not play in to the story so much as it feels like this story could just have easily taken place in England, France or the New England states of the U.S. The time frame though does inspire the story as our heroine, Fenna Carter, is a creature of her time, as is the “hero” of the story, Daniel Barrows. The steam your glasses scenes take longer to develop than in the first story, but the buildup makes one savor the torment of waiting, and the build to the payoff. And the reader is not disappointed. The scene between Miss Carter and Mr. Barrows in his private office is well worth the wait. Here to the author weaves in the tendrils of love between the two involved as both had been fighting back and forth at each other, not it is discovered out of loathing, but out of unrequited love. This gets nicely “requited” as well as having Miss Barrows bottom a nice shade of red when they are done.

Finally, we end with “Hot Whipping Cream”. This story, much more than the other two, crosses the line in to fantasy. Branch Junction is not a town one will find anywhere in the world, even in a state like Nevada where brothels are legal in some counties. Doesn’t mean we can’t wish it was possible, or enjoy reading about a place like Branch Junction. And it certainly doesn’t take away from the absolute enjoyment of the ‘Oh so hot’ sex in this story. A great story to end with as it definitely feels like the climax after the quick start of the first story, then the slow build that takes place in the middle story. “Hot Whipping Cream” gives us Sheriff Tom Campbell, his wife Haley, a female “friend” with a can of whipped cream, and a fun and raunchy place called The Swing; which just happens to be on a street called Leather. As stated previously, fantasy, but who wouldn’t want to live in this town? As in the two previous stories, the OTK is used as punishment, and yet keeps the eroticism.

If you are a fan of OTK, or of the erotic, or the D/s ideal played out between two people, this troika of shorts is for you. If however, love has no place in your fantasies then you are out of luck. The flame of love runs through all three stories and not only does not ruin them, but instead enhances the emotion and feel of the characters involved. Anya Howard did a marvelous job on each individual story and a wonderful job of choosing which story goes where. The only complaint one could have is wishing there were more than just three stories in “Forbidden Escapades”. The book leaves the reader with a desire for three or four more stories from Anya Howard right then and there.

Reviewed by: Master Peter Raven

thebikersThe Biker’s Pup by Sean Michael

Link to buy The Biker’s Pup

Story Rating: 3 out of 5 paddles

Sting Factor (kink): 3 out of 5


Lovers of Sean Michael will thoroughly enjoy this m/m kinky biker fest. In Biker’s Pup, a frightened twink, Nick, is found by Whip. Nick’s asshole lover, Dirk, is an abusive top who ignored Nick’s safeword and then beat him. Lucky for Nick, he finds his biker on a Harley to save the day.

This is a cute hook up story spanning a weekend at a gay biker rally. With Bears, Leatherman and bratty bottoms abounding, it can be overwhelming. For someone like Nick who’s never fit in and then left all alone, it’s downright scary. Whip is a gentleman top who finds the boy toy to meet his needs. This serendipitous meeting helps both of them out.

From a character perspective, it’s straightforward. All the characters fit the stereotypes people expect for gay kinky biker men. The plot is uncomplicated and a bit too easily resolved. For those who are Sean Michael fans, expect the requisite pup references as well as growling. The kinky part of this story is mild. Nothing too kinky goes on except for the initial threat which scared Nick so bad. There is a bit of cock teasing as possible sexual hook ups are suggested. For example, Trig,Whip’s best friend asked if Whip would share Nick. Whip flat out replies no.  Then the sneaky imagery is proposed.

“Damn it.” Trig winked right back. “I’d have to admit, if we shared him, we’d squish him.” (pg. 38, Kindle loc. 570-571)

Now I have images of two large hairy bears in leather chaps and nothing else sandwiching a hairless cute twink. Nick is in a ball gag with tears streaming down his face whilst Whip and Trig are shoving their thick cocks up his ass at the same time. Whip and Trig growling and grunting as they squish puppy dog eyes Nick between them. Mr. Michael makes a slight offhand comment and I’m falling down into the gutter. This quickie kinky m/m erotica is recommended for those who love happily ever afters for lost little boys toys.

Reviewed by Book Addict

Dancing With Death by C.P. MandaraDancing-With-Death-CPM-2_edited-1

Link to buy


Violetta is an executioner… of vampires. Famed for her fiery beauty and mesmerising personality, she has never failed an assignment.

Monsieur Martinet is no ordinary vampire, though. He is a master at his craft and can control humans with the merest flick of his eyelids. The vampire huntress with the porcelain skin and flaming red hair has killed all of his brethren, without exception. He now seeks the ultimate revenge: her submission in HIS bed.

If he’s allowed to stay alive long enough, that is.


“Are you ready to die, Monsieur Martinet?”

Her voice was clear and deceptively calm, although he wasn’t fooled for a moment.

“What a pleasure it is to meet you at last, Violetta.” He made sure the resonant tones of his voice penetrated her eardrums, and he felt her body clench. It was a beautiful, instinctively sexual response, and she was unprepared for it. The predator inside him preened its feathers.  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he finally replied to her question, nodding his head politely. “Feel free to do your worst, Madame.”

Turning around to feast his hypnotic blue eyes upon her, he widened them to their full potential. These were eyes that could see through a person’s soul in an instant and rifle through suitcases of hidden secrets with casual indiscretion, inhaling them all into his head to be used to his advantage at a later date.

Her eyes widened in fear, as he’d intended them to.

“You have the gift,” she gasped in a tight voice, already backing away from him in panic.

“Ah oui, mon petite,” he said with a menacing drawl. “Did none of the others tell you?” He let himself enjoy the faint tremor that shook her body and rattled her composure. Then, he pushed his will upon her, rooting her legs to the spot as if she had been encased in concrete. Moving slowly towards his now immobile prey, he glared at her with his bright blue irises. “I suspect that’s because you killed them before they had a chance to talk about dear old Daddy.” The look he gave her was faintly mocking.

She narrowed her eyes in response and tried to fight his control. The force of her will struggling to regain the use of her legs was quite impressive but ultimately futile. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t see why most of his coven had fallen under the almost indomitable power that she wielded. This one was strong. He knew her agile body would be lightning fast and that she would know all the tricks of the ‘death’ trade, but it didn’t change anything. The fact remained that she was no match for his particular talents.

“You have killed all of my children, cherie. For that alone you should die. I find these days, though, that death falls short of my expectations in the revenge stakes. It is, in my humble opinion, over far too quickly. So I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. Two minutes. You have two minutes in which to kill me in any way that you choose, without interference on my part. If you fail, however, the consequences will be high. I hasten to add that they might even be catastrophic for a woman of your nature, so think long and hard before accepting my challenge.”

He watched her eyes narrow as she waited for his verdict. Her little brain was whirring over countless possibilities of all the cruelties which he might care to inflict upon her and not a one was correct, although some of her ideas certainly had merit. He wasted no time in setting her thoughts straight.

“If you fail, I fancy you’ll be the first of my new breed of children. Depending on how exacting my desire for revenge is, I might even take you for a bride; an eternal one, Violetta.” Her horrified shudder amused him. Delving inside her head once more, letting his talents have free reign, he listened attentively to her thoughts. The first thing he discovered was her terror at having her body overpowered by nothing more than his gaze. She had never witnessed that kind of control before, and her thoughts were already running rampant with the significance of what killing him would mean for mankind. Now that he had demonstrated his skill, he had just painted a great big red cross on his forehead. No matter. Death was the least of his concerns. Her thoughts began taking on a different hue, and this time she wondered how he might use his particular brand of control over her, should she fail. Violetta speculated between whether he would want her as his servant, to fetch and clean for him, or as a blood slave to feed upon, which was the considerably more unpalatable option for her. He resisted the urge to laugh. His designs on her were a little more carnal in nature, although he had no objections to tasting the delightful life-force that flowed through her. He pondered on what the spicy red fluid coursing through her veins would taste like? A Bordeaux? No, that would be a little heavy and old. She was more of a Cotes de Provence rosé, soft, fruity and fresh – with a hint of summer and berries.

Her thoughts, becoming more jumbled and crazy by the second, forced him to pay attention once more. She was on the verge of accepting his challenge, confident she stood a fighting chance at extinguishing his life. Her only concern was the ‘eternal bride’ threat. She did not fear death, surprisingly enough, unlike ninety-nine percent of her fellow mortals. The thought of becoming immortal, however, would shatter her mind to pieces. The eternal damnation, the loss of her soul and becoming the evil she had fought so hard to destroy had her all of a flutter. He heard her deep inhalations of breath as she actively calmed herself down and thought through his proposal logically. In the end, she estimated her chances of success outweighed the risk of her mind’s destruction. Her reasoning was disgustingly noble. She believed that this would be the greatest service to the world her life could offer, and it was her duty to accept. Besides, she figured that he needed her permission in order to change her, and she felt that no amount of persuasion on his part could ever make her agree to such a fate.

If she failed in her task, he would enjoy proving her wrong.

“Two minutes should be more than enough time for what I have in mind, Monsieur. Release me.”

“Say please.” He gave her a dark look and a feral smile.

Attempting one last gargantuan effort at freeing her feet and finding herself still tightly pinned to the spot, she gave in gracefully. “Pretty please, Monsieur. Let me kill you.” Well, not so gracefully, after all.


The invisible glue that had held her feet pinioned to the soft grass disappeared instantly. She fell forward before regaining her balance and managed, awkwardly, to right herself. Flexing her feet gingerly beneath her, she decided no permanent damage had been done and business could continue as usual.

Kicking off the ridiculous shoes she’d been forced to squeeze her feet into for the evening’s proceedings, she let them fly in the air, and the lavender sandals hit him full force in the stomach before they dived towards the floor.

“Death by stilettos? Now that’s one I haven’t seen before…” He let his voice trail off into the cool night air as he stared at her face. She was mesmerising. The wind had taken her red hair and whipped it forward around her face. The lights from the ballroom behind her had illuminated it into seething, orange flames. The soft lilac of her dress appeared almost translucent in the bright light, and her silhouette could be seen in sharp relief through the thin organza. The laser-cut, silver filigree mask she wore was cast half in shadow and hid a good portion of her face, serving to give a mysterious but very feminine air. Although oxygen was not a pre-requisite for his kind, he sucked in a breath regardless. For one tiny split second he found himself entranced by the beauty before him, and he could have almost been persuaded to kiss her hand and kneel at her feet. In the next, he was angered by his momentary lapse in concentration and visions of the bloody massacre his coven had become haunted his thoughts. She would pay – in the worst way possible. In fact, if he lived through her attempts on his life, he would make it his mission to watch her suffer every hell imaginable.

“Your two minutes begins now,” he said coldly.

“So be it,” she whispered and, bending forwards to get a grip on the end of her dress, she pulled the floaty material upwards to reveal two, creamy white thighs complete with her instruments of death. Black leather holsters encircled each; one held a small solid silver dagger and the other a sharp wooden stake.

It took all of his will power for his tongue to remain in his mouth. She had legs that reached up to the planet Venus, kissed it, and returned. The limbs of a dancer, they were slim, athletic, and beautifully smooth. He wanted them both beneath him. As quick as the vision of loveliness appeared, it vanished. A monstrous Medusa rose in its wake, and it was clear that she was all about business-as-usual. Her mouth had hardened. Her eyes had lost their luminous gleam, and the hint of innocence he had seen within them might have been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Here was a killer, a practiced deliverer of death, and she had no remorse for what she was about to do.

The chit wasted no time in flying at him, little good that it did her. He neatly side-stepped her advance and watched as she soared past him, towards the flowerbeds. There was a flutter of marigolds, a confusion of fuchsias, and a petulant little yelp as she got herself tangled up in the English roses. Then the tang of blood bloomed upon the air, and he cursed her every which way to hell as his mouth watered with the seductive aroma. He knew he should have fed before tonight’s proceedings, but the lure of feeding from her would make his abstinence all the sweeter. His hunger might put him slightly off-balance, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Violetta’s second attempt on his life had her diving for his back, and he saw her in his mind’s eye, flying towards him with both hands gripping the cold, silver hilt of her weapon. It was rather unsporting of her, but he had expected nothing less. She did not think him worthy enough of honour, so why should she play by the same rules? He played the same tactic as the one before and simply moved out of her way as soon as her feet had taken to the air. He watched with bored eyes as she fell heavily to the floor, dropping the knife and knocking all the air out of her body.

When she managed to refill her lungs with the precious substance of her kind, she spat at him and swore viciously. It seemed that failure did not become her. How very unladylike.

“You said you wouldn’t stop me!” There was hysteria in her voice, and whilst he shouldn’t have admitted it to himself, it was rather pleasing to hear.

“I said I wouldn’t interfere, I didn’t say I’d make it easy for you.

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Twitter: @cpmandara

Let’s face it, the primary reason you come to this website is because you like reading smut. More specifically, you like reading smut of the nasty and kinky variety. So my contribution to’s third anniversary bash is an excerpt from a work-in-progress that just might appeal to your naughty sensibilities. Enjoy.

Jim Lyon JIM'S AVATAR final


The stall was about the size of a small bedroom. Most of the floor was covered with a thick layer of straw and in one corner the straw was built up into a rectangular shape and covered by a horse blanket. Jody surmised correctly that area was where he’d be sleeping. In the opposite corner was a concrete slab with a drain in the center and on the wall beside it were two curled-up hoses, one fitted with a showerhead and the other an enema nozzle.

Nancy began removing Jody’s clothes and footwear and soon he was standing completely naked before his fully clothed groom, feeling a bit humiliated and awkward. The shapely brunette eyed his body appreciatively then said with a smirk, “It’s too bad your cock is all locked up, you look like you would’ve made a good stallion,” before she placed a harness over his head and strapped it on snuggly at the back of his head.

Taking the reins attached to the harness, Nancy led him onto the concrete slab and tied him to a crossbeam. Using the nozzle wand, Nancy nudged his legs to indicate she wanted Jody to spread them, which he did, then told him to bend forward. After he had followed her instructions Nancy placed the tip of the nozzle against his anus and slowly began easing it inside of him. Once it was seated properly she turned on the water to initiate the first enema.

It was degrading yet also exhilarating having his bowels cleansed in such a matter-of-fact manner, but there was nothing he could do about it. Shaking with fear, excitement and arousal, Jody struggled with his conflicting reactions while Nancy filled his rectum with lukewarm liquid several times, flushed him out and washed the expelled effluent down the drain. Finally, as Jody stood docilely his groom retrieved a horsetail attached to a butt plug of considerable girth and gently inserted it into his anal cavity. Jody shuddered slightly when his sphincter snapped tightly around the massive plug as his rectum accepted the intruding device.

Nancy led Jody to the center of the stall and patted him dry before slipping low-cut boots designed to resemble horse hooves on his feet. After that she placed leather mittens crafted to mimic the front hooves of a horse on his hands. Even without the benefit of a mirror, Jody could easily envision himself as a human pony, naked and transformed, ready for service.

Shortly Jody was standing in front of the barn hitched to a sulky, outfitted with blinders and a body harness, when Jenny arrived and leisurely circled round him drinking in the visual impact of her newest pony boy. She ran her hand lightly along his thigh and said emphatically, “I sure hope you take to this because you sure make a fine-looking pony,” then climbed into the buggy and snapped her whip. “Let’s take a little tour around the ranch to break you in.”

The first thing Jody noticed was how easily the sulky moved even with a fairly tall woman seated in it. Before long he was able to maintain a steady pace without difficulty. He imagined himself being a kinky rickshaw driver as Jenny directed him to follow a dirt road that ran parallel to the pastures to the south.

With relative ease Jody carted his mistress around the property while she provided a running commentary on the surrounding landscape and structures. He learned that the ranch had been in her family for several generations and had originally been a cattle ranch. During the 1930s it was converted to a dude ranch and remained in that capacity until she repurposed it again to its present function ten years prior.

The longer he pulled the sulky along the dirt road the more he began to appreciate the appeal of being a human pony. Despite the continual presence of the butt plug massaging his prostate, he realized it wasn’t just a sexual fetish; it was a vehicle for deep submission. Jody experienced a sense of liberation turning absolute control over to others, thus relinquishing his humanness and attendant rights and privileges.

When they reached the far end of the ranch they saw several workers in the distance repairing a section of fence. Adjacent to where the ranch hands were working a team of human ponies stood hitched to a wagon laden with fencing materials. As Jenny and Jody approached the work detail, they could see that one of the workers had separated two of the ponies from the team and was busy securing them to the back of the wagon in preparation for administering discipline with a buggy whip.

“Mornin’ Bob,” Jenny said to the man holding the buggy whip when they stopped alongside the work party. “Got a couple of naughty pony girls I see.”

“Yep, you know how some extroverted ponies are, can’t keep their mouths shut. They’ve probably been going crazy being without their cell phones for a couple days.”

Jenny chuckled.

“Well, teaching them to button it up is one of the perks of your job, wouldn’t you say?”

Bob smiled slyly in response.

After a few seconds Jenny continued, “Don’t let me interfere with your duties, Bob. I think it will be instructional for my newest pony to see the consequence of breaking the rules at Discovery Ranch.”

It was fairly obvious that the crew chief enjoyed disciplining errant ponies. Without the warm-up one might expect in a typical D/s scene, he started out administering harsh blows that quickly elicited tears and cries of anguish from the recipients of his efforts. Jody felt a mix of pity and envy as he looked on while Bob brutalized the hindquarters of the two ponies, leaving a plethora of angry welts to remind them of their transgression. Finally Bob deemed he had accomplished his goal, set aside the whip and resumed his fence repairs. Meanwhile the chastened ponies sobbed quietly as they struggled to regain their composure.




Upon their arrival back at the barn Nancy unhitched Jody from the sulky, but instead of leading him to his stall she walked him to a St. Andrews Cross situated just inside the barn and secured him to it tightly with his back facing outward. She instructed him to open his mouth, and when he did she placed a thick piece of rawhide between his lips and whispered, “Bite down on this.” Jody did as he was told.

As Nancy prepared the pony boy Jenny watched patiently, savoring the moment. Her eyes glistened with excitement as the groom brought in a brazier with a branding iron resting on its grill then placed the ensemble close to the St. Andrews Cross. In a soft even tone Jenny began to tell Jody what was in store for him.

“Norah told us about your desire to embrace intense submissive experiences, so all of the other winners and I got together to discuss how to deal with that in a responsible manner. During our discussion we all agreed that we should each mark you in some signature way as a memento of our time with you, because regardless of whom you ultimately end up with we will all have been instrumental in creating the submissive you become. As it happens, whenever I take on personal ponies the natural progression of things is to place my brand on their buttocks to remind them forever who truly owns them. So that is the method I have chosen to leave an indelible mark upon your body and soul as a souvenir of my significance in your life.”

As Jenny spoke Jody vacillated between dread and joy at the prospect of having his flesh seared by a red-hot branding iron. Part of him wanted this more than anything and part of him was terrified. It did seem a little extreme, but in a moment of clarity, he acknowledged that he had set the stage for this and that he never expected it to be easy, or for Jenny to be gentle with him. That epiphany brought on a calm that enabled him to face the impending test of fire.

Without saying anything more Jenny snatched the branding iron off the brazier and thrust the glowing JA brand against Jody’s left buttock, holding it there to the count of five. Jody bit down hard on the rawhide, choking on his scream. The agony of this was far beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of experiencing. As soon as Jenny removed the iron from the burnt flesh Nancy moved in and slathered a soothing salve on the wound then left Jody to recuperate in solitude for a few minutes.

Jody was roused from his post branding reverie by an unseen hand gripping the base of his tail and extricating the enormous butt plug from his anus. In a matter of seconds the same hand began applying generous amounts of lube to the gaping maw where the plug had been. Jenny looked on as Nancy prepped Jody before approaching her and lubing the horse cock-sized strapon protruding from her crotch.

Breaking the silence Jenny said, “Since you are effectively a mare for all practical purposes, you are available to be fucked by any mistress or stallion with an urge to indulge themselves. I know you’ve been stretched to be able to accommodate some sizable objects, but I doubt that you’ve ever had a horse cock up your ass. Today that will change. I’ll be careful not to cause any damage; however, it will be tough going at times. I think I can safely say you’ll never be the same after I’m done with you. Along with the brand, this may well be the most enduring legacy of your stay here.”

With Nancy’s help Jenny eased the tip of the massive dildo into Jody’s anus. The already dilated opening resisted at first but finally began to relax some until finally stretching enough to allow the enormous phallus to penetrate ever deeper, ultimately working its way completely in. Although Jody had considerable experience with being penetrated anally by large objects, this was akin to giving birth and fluctuated between being intensely pleasurable and distressingly uncomfortable. The turning point for Jody was accepting that it was not his pleasure that was important; it was his mistress’. At that moment he allowed himself to become a vessel whose sole purpose was to serve Jenny.

And Jenny worked him hard. She ploughed his ass deep and long, determined to give him the ultimate pegging of his life. Her oversized phallus stretched his opening wider and wider as she split him apart with abandon. Jody endured her painful pounding until it eventually triggered an endorphin high.

They were both drained by the time their frenzied coupling was done. Jenny staggered to a nearby hay bale and sat with her head between her knees breathing heavily as she regained her strength, while Jody hung limply on the sturdy wooden X, dazed, dilated and sated. No matter what else transpired between them in the future, this had been a memorable milestone for them both.