WIP IT UP Wednesday... "Initiation: Nox Oasis Book 1"

I can hardly believe it's Wednesday again already, but there you are! I received such a brilliant response to last week's #wipitup snippet, thank you to the lovely people who commented. I do like comments! 
For this week, I've decided to share one more excerpt from my current wip, tentatively titled, "Initiation". I know it would be far kinder of me to post excerpts in order, so you guys can see what happens next, but I'd rather keep the surprise element intact and not give too much away. So with that in mind, here's another random snippet...

"In there," he said, pointing to a small pathway veering off to the right.

In her tight, lacy camisole top, even tighter miniskirt and sky-high heels showing off endless, tanned legs, Chloe exuded sex from every pore. Throwing him a seductive, lingering glance over her shoulder, she paused. "That way?"

He gave a curt nod and waited for her to keep walking.

"Oh," she exclaimed a moment later. "How exciting! Stocks!"

"It's a pillory, actually," Dain heard himself saying. "Stocks are usually for the feet. Pillory is for the hands and neck."

Chloe shrugged. "Same difference." She tilted her head to one side with a coy smile. "So… we're here. What was it you wanted to have a little chat with me about?"

"This." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

"What's that?"

"It's a note, from Sir Simeon. He tells me you seem to have a problem with getting to work on time."

Infuriatingly, she giggled. "Is that so?"

Dain didn't smile back. "It is. So what's your excuse? It can't be the traffic."

"No, I suppose living and working in the same place do have some drawbacks."

He narrowed his eyes, deliberately and coolly holding her gaze until the amusement vanished from her exquisite features.

"Am I in trouble?"

"You could say that."

"I-I thought Sir Simeon would be…"

Dain raised a single eyebrow, still regarding her with contemplative detachment. It was working, she was growing more unsettled by the second. "You thought Sir Simeon would what?"

Chloe dropped her gaze to the rich green grass. "I thought he'd be the one… the one dealing with… this sort of thing," she finished, lamely.

He shrugged. "Well, he isn't. Is that a problem?"

She shook her head, her golden ponytail swishing against the nape of her slender neck.

"What did you think I wanted to have a chat with you about?" He couldn't resist asking.

An adorable flush spread up across her cheeks at that, and Dain had to bite back a smile. Still, he waited for her reply.

"I-I don't know," she muttered eventually. "Not… this."

Interesting. The glamour puss likes to pretend to be far more worldly and unfazed by everything than she really is. With a completely steady hand, he unfolded the note and scanned it briefly before putting it back in his pocket. He was careful to keep his tone stern.

"Chloe, you have been late for work no less than four times in less than a fortnight. That is unacceptable. Sir Simeon is not impressed, and has asked me to deal with you as I see fit, as per your signed agreement when you commenced employment here. Do you consent to my punishing you?"

She hesitated.

Dain was in no hurry. It had been too long since he'd been able to indulge himself in this way. He waited, savouring the torrent of emotions as they flitted across her face; panic, lust, curiosity, uncertainty—even a little tiny bit of fear. Good. Fear was good.

Her answer, when it finally came, was a tremulous whisper. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Her dark blue eyes swivelled back up to meet his for a brief moment before once more settling on the ground. "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl. Not a complete novice, then." Then, lowering his voice, "Take off your clothes."

"I—what?" Her eyes were so wide her long lashes touched her brows.

"You heard me. Everything but the heels. I want you completely naked."

She looked around, her hands instinctively fluttering to her breast and sex, even though she was still fully dressed.

"Now."

And now, if you haven't already, I highly recommend you check out the undoubtedly great excerpts from the lovely authors in the links below! Go on... you know you want to! 

A real kinky writer... Introducing Keith Anderson!

Some of you may have read my recent rant about writing what you're passionate about, in which I shared my opinion that the best erotic writers either live - or at least fantasise about - their kinky subject matter.

I also happen to think that there aren't nearly enough male authors in our genre... but that's a subject for another day.

Imagine my delight, therefore, when the amazing Maren Smith discovered a fresh, male, genuinely kinky talent, and asked me to interview him. For once, I did not need to be told twice.

His name is Keith Anderson, and I've since discovered that we have a lot in common... especially our sense of humour. From Terry Pratchett to Dave Barry to Douglas Adams, we enjoy the same authors.
However, this isn't a blog about writing comedy... it's about writing stories that have you squirming in your seat. And in this, too, Mr. Anderson is obviously very talented. He's here to promote "Pretty When You Cry", an anthology of short, hot stories now available on Amazon. So without further ado, here is my interview with him...

How did you become involved in reading/writing spanking/erotic romance?
I've been writing since I was young, mainly humorous observational pieces, my main influences at the time were Dave Barry and Douglas Adams (which still creep into my stories from time to time). When I got involved with BDSM around 2000, my writing interests followed and the first real piece of erotica I wrote was “The Game”, which was written around 2006 and is included in “Pretty When You Cry”.  I always thought getting published and making any money at this was just a pipe dream, but then I met Maren Smith.  She really liked my stories and has been a huge support for me.

What did you enjoy most about writing this book?
Well, its a collection of my best short stories and I enjoy the short form because it allows me to explore different situations and characters without feeling I have to hang around them for long.  Just enough to tell a story and then get out!

What was the hardest part of writing this book? 
… and the painful thing about short form is that you're coninually starting from scratch with each story.  So its new characters, with new back stories and new enviroments.  Two of my stories concern a character named Jax who will also be featured in my upcoming novel, “Kinky in Flatland”, so that made it a little easier!

What do you like to read in your free time?
I read a lot of mysteries by Lawrence Block, science fiction by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman (Good Omens is one of my favorite books, right behind Hitchhikers' Guide to the Universe!).  I also have gotten into reading Anais Nin and have been reading some collections of erotica put together by Susie Bright.

What projects are you working on at the present? Include a snippet if you like.
My current project is my first novel, which I am very excited and very nervous about!  It’s called Kinky in Flatland and tells the love story between Jax and Holly, two people who happen to be in the subculture of BDSM.  Jax is an old hand in the scene and Holly is a neophyte, each with their requisite baggage of issues in the past.  Can old girlfriends, intrepid reporters and personal failings get in the way of these two living happily ever after?  I started formulating the story when I was getting tired of whenever BDSM was on any TV show, it involved a chalk outline.  So instead, I just wanted to tell a love story between two people who were active in the scene.  

My second objective is that I wanted to remove the lifestyle from the trendy coasts or other fashionable hot spots.  My story takes place in the Great Plains (which is why its called, “Kinky in Flatland”) and I wanted the characters to be believable real people, people you could really see living just two doors down from where you live.  Because to be honest, that’s probably what’s happening anyway! 

Here's an excerpt from the first chapter of Holly's experience at her first BDSM munch.

After the class news, Brandon started a 50/50 raffle and then stepped down so members could mingle, buy tickets and sign up for the playparty after the munch.  Both she and Anna had agreed they would sit out the playparty the first time.  After the others had gone to mingle and Anna excused herself to go to the bathroom, Holly was alone at the table.
After a while a voice to her left said, “Hello.”
She looked up and saw him.  She couldn't help but smile softly.  He was tall and dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt.  He had an easy-going confidence about him.  No alpha arrogance, but no passivity either.  He had a gravitas about him that solidly made his presence known.
“Hi,” she said.
“I just noticed you were sitting by yourself and wondered if you wanted some company.”
“Sure.”
He sat in the chair next to her and held out his hand.
“My name is Jax.”
“Mine is Holly,” she smiled, shaking his hand. His grasp was firm, but not suffocating.
“Is this your first time? I don't think I've seen you here before.”
“Yes, first timer...Have you been coming here long?”
“I've known Brandon since before the group started, so yeah, been here since the beginning.”
“Could I ask you a question?” Holly asked, hesitantly.
“Of course, you can ask me anything.””
“What are the playparties like?”
Jax thought for a bit.  “Well, you know how it is in the porn novels and videos, where its all just one bacchanalian orgy free-for-all?
“Yeah?”
“It's nothing like that.” Jax smiled.
Holly stifled a giggle.
“Everything connected to BDSM play is pre-negotiated, everything is consensual.”
Holly nodded. “I'd done some reading online, consensuality was stressed very strongly.”
“Yes, as far as I’m concerned, consensuality is the one thing that separates BDSM from abuse.”
“I understand that, but knowing what’s going to happen, because its been pre-negotiated...doesn't that kill any spontaneity?  It makes it sound kinda clinical.”
Jax nodded.  “I can understand that.  Let me tell you a story of a scene I did at the last playparty.  I'll leave out names, confidentiality is also a very important concept in the community.  I had been talking to a woman in the group for a few weeks and she wanted to try a caning.  She was fairly new and had only a few spanking scenes.  So we discussed ways we could make this happen and how it would work best for her.  Because caning can be a bit intense.
“The evening came around that we were to play and I could tell she was a bit nervous. So, I had her take a few deep breaths and then kneel on the spanking bench.  She was down to her panties and I just gave a good brief massage on her ass, to help her relax, which is very important.  If you're tense or nervous, you won't be able to process the pain, but if you're relaxed, its much easier to take in the sensations.
“After the massage, a light spank and then a rub on the spot I just spanked.  Spank, then rub, spank and rub.  Then you get to the point, where the spanks are getting harder and the rubs are coming less.  The blood is starting to work its way to the surface and her ass was getting to be a nice faint reddish tint to it.
Holly nodded, glancing at his hands, imagining how one would cover one of her ass cheeks and how it would feel on impact and she felt her face flush red.  She also noticed she was biting her lip and stopped.
“After that I took out my tawse, do you know what a tawse is?”
“Is that the twin leather straps attached to a handle?  I think I saw a picture of one.”
“Exactly, very good.”  Jax smiled.  “I took out my tawse and rubbed it for awhile on her pink cheeks, the rough leather sliding against her hot sensitive skin and then reared back my hand and slapped her ass good.  She startled just slightly, which was I wanted, that meant she was taking it well.  I must've worked on her with that tawse for a good ten to fifteen minutes, first soft slaps and then harder, by the end I had worked up a bit of a sweat and her ass was a very nice cherry red and gotten some nice bruises.”
Jax smiled as Holly adjusted slightly in her seat, leaning closer.  She had been thinking about leather slapping her skin and noticed she had been squirming a little in her chair for a bit.  Now she wondered if he was smiling at her or the memory of the scene.
“I put the tawse down, stepped so I stood behind her ass and knelt down.  Then I took my fingers, claw-like,” he said, mimicking the motion, “and raked them down her ass cheeks, hard down her very sensitive, very red skin.”
He took a moment to relish the moment, and Holly instinctively parted her legs slightly.  She had given up trying to hide the fact that she was biting her lip.
'You know how a cat, when you go to stroke it, will get up on its haunches and arch its back?” Jax asked.
Holly nodded, as nonchalantly as possible, her fingers stroking her arm.
“That's what she did.  I raked my fingernails down her cheeks and she just arched her back like a cat and took it so very well.”
He seemed lost in his memory, as he smiled, “A woman arching her back is never not sexy.”
Holly smiled and blushed.
“It was a wonderful reaction.  I stood back up and grabbed my cane.  I tapped it lightly against her ass a few times, to let her know what I had switched to.  And then I reared back and gave a medium rap.  She lurched a bit, but kept her head down, and wasn't exercising her safe word.  I tapped some more and then gave her another one, slightly harder.  She craned her head a bit, and heard her gasp, so lovely.  She clenched her hands and put her head back down, bearing down for another.  To be honest, at this point, it was hard to keep the smile off my face.”
Holly nodded, very aware of her own heartbeat.  She suddenly shivered, as if shaking off something old, to be replaced by something new.
“I gave her one more, not too much harder than the last and got a real forced exhale and a very nice moan. She bore down for another, but at this point, I stopped.”
“Why?” Holly asked, slightly disappointed.
“She probably could have taken more,  but I'm a firm believer that if it's someone's first time, you shouldn't overdo it.  You don't want to send them running for the hills, you just want to give them a taste, so they come back for more,” he smiled.
“Wow,” she smiled back, “sounds like daddy loves his work”
Jax laughed. “Yes, indeed. But here's the thing.  She knew everything that was going to happen.  The massage, the light spanks, the rubs, the harder spanks, the sensation play, the tawsing and then the cane, she knew it all because we had talked about it.  And she enjoyed it immensely.  Because, I'll admit, pre-negotiation might kill some of the spontaneity,” he leaned in close, ”what it adds is anticipation.  You know its coming and you're just waiting for it to happen.”

***

In order to prevent this from becoming too long a blog entry, I will share another yummy excerpt - this time from - "Pretty When You Cry" in a separate post. 

And if you (justifiably) want to start stalking Keith, here's how...

Read Keith's Blog

Follow Keith on Facebook

Get your copy of 'Pretty When You Cry' on Amazon

WIP it up Wednesday - More from my secret new project!

Yay, it's that time of the week again - time to share a snippet of what I'm currently working on - and read hot excerpts from other hugely talented authors! So without further ado, here is another snippet from the first book of my new series...

"As for you…" Idly, Sir Simeon reached out, wrapped a thick strand of Faye's hair around his fist and drew her head slowly, firmly towards him, tilting her face up until she was forced to meet his unblinking gaze, "You and I need to have a little chat, young lady. One on one. Just you and me."

George watched his wife's chest heave as she looked up at his friend, watched the pulse beat rapidly in her neck, knew she was probably as soaked as he was hard at that moment. 

Were it any other man touching his wife—his slave—that way, he'd already have a broken nose, but Simeon was different. Such were his control, his energy, his experience and his attitude, that men were rarely, if ever, jealous when Simeon spent time with their women. On the contrary, watching his old friend with his wife made George churn with excitement… it was like watching an expert handler break in a particularly spirited horse. His erection throbbed against his trousers. 

"Wh-what about?" Faye bleated, obviously rendered helpless in the force of Simeon's grip and undeniable authority.

"You'll find out. Meet me in half an hour. In there." Simeon pointed to a small hut situated on the edge of the gardens. It was ornately decorated and elaborately carved, and looked a lot like the ancient temples George had seen on his travels around Southeast Asia.

Faye whimpered as Simeon's mouth came down on hers, hard, crushing her lips savagely, before breaking abruptly away. "You will be naked. On your knees. In the corner. Waiting," he growled, before releasing his hold on her hair. He looked at George and winked. "Your Master will no doubt make sure you keep your appointment."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, breathlessly. 

As Simeon sauntered away to greet his other guests, George reached for his wife. "In fact," he said, huskily, "you and I will be going to that hut right now. You're going to get on your knees and suck your Master's cock in that delicious way of yours until he explodes in your mouth, and then you're going to swallow every last drop. Just because you're on restriction doesn't mean I have to be."

***

I'm also very proud to announce that Sharing Silver is now out for individual sale on Amazon. I shared a couple of snippets of Silver and the twins on previous Wipitup posts, so if you want to read the whole sizzling story, you now can! This is not a book to miss if you like menage or BDSM.

And now, on to the other amazing authors who are participating in this week's blog hop...

Tabby Talks To: Morganna Williams

I love my fellow erotica authors. I read their work, I chat to them, I appreciate it when they take the time to read my stories... but most of all I love the way we all support each other.
Today I'm delighted to be able to host the amazing Morganna Williams, who writes hot, sexy books about all my favourite things...and her latest book is storming up the charts. She's here to tell us alll about it! Over to you, Morganna!

Thank you for having me today Tabitha! In my new book: His Girl, His Rules, Glory has been writing about spanking and BDSM for years in her romance novels but has no practical knowledge; so she goes to a local BDSM Club for professional research and to gain a little personal knowledge. Master Gabriel is ready to teach Glory everything she needs to know. 
Let's peep in as things heat up in Master Gabriel’s office:

Glory fidgeted nervously on the couch in Master Gabriel’s office, trying to make her short skirt cover more of her rounded thighs and trying to ignore the man watching her. He was absolutely beautiful with black hair that curled slightly around his ears, sparkling blue eyes set in a strong face with a squared jaw and topped with dimples. He was tall with broad shoulders and was obviously very fit; in a nutshell, she was way out of her league.

She felt her eyes widen in alarm when he sat down next to her a little closer than she was comfortable with. Good night Irene, but the man was hot! Sex on a stick as Jessica would say.

She swallowed as her mouth seemed to completely dry up and her pulse began to pound in her ears. Master Gabriel was like every fantasy man she’d ever dreamed up in one muscular package of alpha-ness.

Glory blinked in alarm when he suddenly snapped his fingers in front of her nose. “Ms. Walters? I’ve been talking to you. Where did you go off to?”

She felt hot color fill her cheeks as she looked over at him. “I’m sorry, Master Gabriel, I was woolgathering.” Glory looked down, embarrassed that she was messing up this interview so badly.

Firm fingers caught her beneath the chin and brought her head up so she had no choice but to meet his steely gaze. “No more woolgathering, young lady. Now, I asked you why you were here.”

“I, umm, needed to do some research for my new novel… and… I… well… umm…”

“I think it’s safe to say since you filled out a membership questionnaire that you have a more personal interest in BDSM than research. Correct?” he asked, pinning her with his knowing eyes.

“Yes,” she said softly, the penetrating eye contact making her feel like he could see straight into her soul.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected her.    

                                   

“What?” Glory blinked, freeing herself from his eyes for a moment.

“You will call me sir while we’re in this room. Understood?” he asked with a brow raised questioningly.

“Yes, sir,” Glory answered.

“Good girl. Now, are you ready to explore your submissive nature this evening?” Once again his blue eyes captured hers, allowing her no escape.

“Yes, sir,” she said with a soft sigh. The normal protest dying on her lips, Glory found she couldn’t deny this compelling man. She wanted to please him.

He smiled at her, his blue eyes suddenly warm as they crinkled at the corners. “Then we will begin. Your safeword for tonight is red.”

Then suddenly his hands were at her waist and he lifted her easily to sit on his lap facing away from him.

Glory gasped, her hands going instinctively to wrap around his wrists.

“Glory, let go of my hands, please,” he said firmly.

She immediately let go. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not used to being picked up.”

“It’s all right, sweetness, but I need your hands out of the way.” His firm hands caught hold of her wrists and lifted them over her head to place them behind his neck. “I want you to hold onto the back of my neck right now. Don’t move them until I tell you to. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Glory tried not to think about the way the position lifted her breasts up and out. They looked ready to pop out of the top of the bustier.

“Good girl,” he said soothingly and then he brought his hands up under her skirt and hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, slowly tugging them down. She lifted her hips slightly as he worked them off then pulled them down her legs.

Her breath came out in a deep shuddering gasp as she watched him tuck them into his pocket before catching her under each thigh and lifting her legs to straddle his. Cool air kissed her hot center when he spread his legs, opening her wide.

Blurb: 

Though Glory Walters writes erotic novels about firm-handed men who know how to deal with feisty women, she’s ashamed to admit she’s never experienced anything of the sort herself. But then she meets Gabriel—Sergeant Gabriel to the men he leads on the local SWAT team, but Master Gabriel to her—and suddenly the scenes in her books don’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

Gabriel has just been going through the motions in life since his wife’s death four years ago, but almost from the moment he sets eyes on her, he wants Glory as his own. Despite never having been taken in hand before, she responds beautifully to a good, hard, bare-bottom spanking, and his dominant lovemaking leaves her breathless. But when Glory foolishly puts herself in extreme danger, she soon discovers that naughty girls who take risks with their safety get their bottoms thoroughly punished… inside and out.

Publisher’s Note: His Girl, His Rules is an erotic novel that contains spankings, sexual scenes, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Want to read more? You can get this now at Amazon to see why ALL the reviewers have given it 5 stars so far!

Fiction vs Reality, Or Passion vs Business

It's a fine line.

Way back, years and years ago, when I first started writing spanking stories, I had never actually experienced it for myself. I'd read about it - LOTS, and fantasised about it even more than that, but had I ever really been slung across someone's knee and had the brat spanked right out of me?

Nope.

Then I discovered the BDSM scene. I discovered real life kinksters. I met them at parties, talked to them, watched them play, let them do nasty, delicious things to me. I even married one - I signed my slave contract to him before I signed the marriage certificate. The marriage has since ended but luckily my new experiences did not.

I had a lot of experiences. Spanking, obviously, with every implement I could think of (and many I hadn't even imagined before, like liquorice. I'm serious. It HURTS!) - and so much more. Needles, medical staples, cutting with a razor blade, cutting with a scalpel, edge play, knife play, fire play, electro play, breath play, sutures, wax play, orgasm control, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, bondage, rope suspension, corsetry, fire flogging, cupping, fire cupping, TENS units, clamps... the list goes on and on and on. I do have a few hard limits, but not very many. Not really.

So it's only natural that I want to incorporate at least some of these experiences into my writing.

Now I don't know exactly how many of my fellow authors live the lifestyle. I know some of them definitely do, and some of them have even more experience than I do. I also know some of them are right where I was ten years ago; a surface vanilla with deep, dark fantasies I had yet to fulfill. And these people have one thing in common; they write my favourite books in the genre. Not just because I'm lucky enough to be able to call them my friends, but because there is an element of truth in what they write; an element of realism. I adored their books before I ever chatted to them. It was only later that I discovered that, as well as being amazing authors, they are amazing people with a real passion for spanking, ageplay and/or BDSM.

There's a saying: 'write what you know.' I call bullshit on that, because many authors would be severely restricted in their content if they were to abide by that rule. Did J.R.R. Tolkien ever MEET a hobbit? Did Lewis Carroll really fall down the rabbit hole? I doubt it. As Oscar Wilde said, "One's real life is so often the life that one does not lead."

However, I do ask that people write what they're passionate about. Lately, more and more people have been admitting to writing certain genres because 'they sell well'.

Writing fiction is an art form. It's a passion. It's a dream. It's something you do because you can't not. It shouldn't be dragged down to the level of business copywriting, or sponsored blog entries, surely? There's marketing writing (which I'm not bashing, I've done it) and then there's fiction writing. You do the first, usually, because you have bills to pay. You do the second because you feel compelled to tell a story.

If you hate scary stories, don't write them. If fantasy fiction makes you yawn and you never read it, don't bother trying to write it. Write what fires YOU inside; because only then can you deliver a great experience to the readers.

"Whenever I want to read a good book, I write a good book. I've never not been writing." ~ Gore Vidal

To all my fellow lovers of good quality spanking/BDSM erotica out there, I can't promise you won't mistakenly pick up a book written by someone who churned out what they thought would sell. However, I can - and DO - promise you that that will never be the case with any of my books.
Sharing Silver was the first contemporary BDSM book I wrote. Many readers will undoubtedly find it 'too heavy'. But I hope there are some out there who will enjoy it. Who want to find out what fireplay feels like. What being auctioned off to someone feels like. What being truly submissive feels like.

And to those readers I say, keep your eyes peeled for my next books. I have many stories to tell and, while they may never make the best-seller lists, they will always be true to my own fantasies and experiences.

Now I'd like to hear your thoughts. Do you care whether an author is passionate about their chosen subject matter? Do you think you can tell? Please feel free to comment away. :)

On Terry Pratchett's passing...

Thanks to my father being an avid reader (I certainly derived my love of books from him), our house was filled with books... paperbacks, hardbacks, even the occasional first edition (my grandma was something of a book dealer - she adored reading, too). 
These books spanned all genres, but many, many of them were Terry Pratchett books. Especially his Discworld series. I think my Dad had the whole set, as well as some books in duplicate thanks to non-readers giving him those as gifts.

They all seemed too science-fictiony to me; the covers, with their garish, brightly coloured cartoons and the weird titles - as I myself progressed from Enid Blyton to Dickens, to Jilly Cooper, Judy Bloom, Brian Jacques, Stephen King, James Patterson and others, I picked up any and all books from our many shelves (and the library) to read but I always passed those Pratchetts by. I was interested in horror, thriller, romance, memoir, history; the idea of a world on the back of a turtle and a bunch of people with funny names just never grabbed me.

My Dad worked a lot. A huge amount. Not just in his office, but at home as well. I'm talking 14 hour days. We were lucky to see him for a couple of hours at weekends or on summer holidays. And on those rare occasions he was home, he had his nose in a book... be it on the sofa, in the kitchen or in the bathroom. 
And when he read any of the Discworld books, he laughed. Really, really laughed, which was rare. I distinctly remember that. I remember thinking: "I wish we could make him laugh like that." The second, less petulant part of me also thought, "That Terry Pratchett guy must be really clever to write so many books which make Dad laugh so hard."

Fast forward a few years and I was an adult. I got sent a Discworld novel to read by someone with whom I'd discussed the phenomenon - when I argued that I was a girl and not into science fiction (apart from Red Dwarf), he said I would love the books if I only gave them a try. He sent me Mort.

And from the first page, I was hooked. It WAS funny. It was also poignant and creative and clever. Really fucking clever. My childhood assumptions about this author had been right. 

I must admit that I still haven't had the time to read all 70 of the books Sir Pratchett has written, but the ones I have, I thoroughly enjoyed. A part of me wishes I had discovered this sooner - perhaps I'd have had something to discuss with my Dad over dinner apart from what my latest grades were.

Not long ago, I watched a documentary made by this author about assisted dying, or Euthanasia. It was called "Choosing To Die" and he made it shortly after he discovered that he had Alzheimer's. 
I cried watching it. I wept and wept and wept, and after that I thought, long and hard, about the moral questions that documentary forced me to ask myself. 

And yet, one of the things he said in that film really resonated with me. "I don't think I want to live if I can no longer write." (Sorry, might be paraphrasing that somewhat but you get my meaning).

Selfishly, I thought this man would still be writing for a long time to come. I thought it would be years and years before his 'embuggerance' got so bad that he could no longer put pen to paper. And it turns out I was wrong. This amazing, prolific, wonderfully eccentric author has now gone to meet one of his own best characters. And I adore how he did it, especially his last words.

Thank you, Sir Terry, for sharing your talents and passion with the world. I will end this blog entry with one of your own amazing quotes...

Wipitup Wednesday - New Excerpt from my Uber Secret Project!

A rather unusual job interview...

A week later, she found herself sitting in an enormous, starkly furnished reception area, surrounded by fatally glamorous women—all of whom were frantically reapplying make-up and giving everyone else derisive looks.

The tension and excitement in the air was palpable, but there was also an underlying current of foreboding, as though they were waiting outside the headmaster’s office. By the time her name was called, Hazel could feel the sweat breaking out on her upper lip and trickling between her shoulder blades, despite the glacial air conditioning. Tripping awkwardly towards the vast, frosted glass door, she cursed herself for even thinking she’d be in with a chance.

The man sitting at the enormous desk stood up when she entered the room. Hazel caught a glimpse of closely cropped silver hair and a whiff of musky aftershave before dropping her gaze to the floor.

I’m out of my league.

“Please sit, Miss Jenkins.”

Hazel sidled to the white pvc and chrome chair opposite his desk and perched there, clasping her hands together to hide the fact that they were shaking.

“Why so nervous?”

When she didn’t respond, his voice had dropped an octave. “Look at me.”

His eyes, when she finally summoned the courage to look into them, were friendly, twinkling, and a most unusual colour—like dark honey. Her mouth went dry.

“I asked you a question, young lady,” he said, still holding her gaze. “Why are you nervous?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Do not you believe you’re qualified for the position? After all,” he glanced down at what she recognised as being her resume in front of him, “you have extensive experience working in some of Australia’s finest five star establishments.”

“I do.” It was more a croak than a statement.

“And you’re extraordinarily pretty. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Hazel’s heart began to pound. I want the job, but not if I have to... “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” she blurted.

“I’m asking the questions. Are you single—yes or no.”

His tone, combined with the way he was looking at her, was giving her a strange, fluttery sensation in the pit of her stomach. After a moment, she nodded. “Yes Sir, I’m single.”

“Excellent. And tell me, Miss Jenkins, how much real-life experience do you have?”

Her gaze fell on the papers on the desk. “Well, it says it right there; I’ve been working as a hotel receptionist for five years now.”

Simeon chuckled then, a devastating, vaguely mocking rumble. “I don’t mean that.” Getting up from behind his desk, he moved around it, his unblinking, strange eyes never leaving her face.

She could feel his proximity; the warmth radiating off his broad body, that delicious musky scent stronger than ever. Hazel thought she might swoon. Closing her eyes, she waited for him to touch her, but when he didn’t, she opened them again to find him leaning against the desk, looking at her expectantly.

“How much real life scene experience do you have, Miss Jenkins?”

Hazel swallowed hard. “Um. Not much... Sir.”

“Be more precise, please.”

“I-I’ve been to one or two events. As an... an observer.”

He raised a thick, dark eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Never had any form of play? Not even a spanking?”

Mutely, she shook her head.

“Not even when you were a child?”

“N-no, Sir.” Knowing she was blushing furiously, Hazel cursed herself for wearing a pale pink shirt—no doubt it was now clashing terribly with her face.

“Stand up, please.”

Oh God, he’s not... he wouldn’t...

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

Somehow, her body obeyed his instructions without having received any specific order to do so from her mind.

“Turn around.”

Even though she was turning slowly, Hazel suddenly felt incredibly dizzy.

“Good. You may sit back down.”

By the time she was brave enough to look at his face again, he had moved back to his seat behind the broad glass desk.

“Tell me Miss Jenkins, why do you want to work here?”

She shrugged. “I want to learn. About everything. I want to leave my current position. And...”

The look in his eyes was really most unsettling. He didn’t speak, and after what felt like an extraordinarily long time, she felt compelled to continue.

“And I find this whole... this whole concept fascinating.”

As he made a note on her file, she couldn’t help but notice how large his tanned hands were. A gold signet ring flashed on his little finger.

“Thank you,” he’d said at length. “We’ll be in touch.”

###

I hope you enjoyed this little teaser! For more amazing excerpts from fellow erotica authors, please check out the other links on this blog hop - and don't forget to comment if you liked it!

So I found myself invited to the Castle...

Turns out Master Marshall wanted to have 'a word' with me for *ahem* disregarding the Castle's privacy standards and writing Sharing Silver. I wasn't the only one. Maggie Ryan, Abbie Adams, Darling Adams and, of course, Castle creator Maren Smith herself also had a turn...

What happened?

Here's an excerpt...

The urge to run—and something that might have been excitement if only she weren’t so unnerved—shivered through her, but when Tabby stood up, her feet took her straight to him. Master Marshall held the door for her, but as she slipped in past him, she froze when she saw Maren. She was standing in a corner between the door and fireplace, her hands were folded behind her head and her bright red butt was on full display. Tabby immediately turned around, but already Marshall had closed the door. He didn’t lock it, but with him standing between her and her only avenue of escape, it may as well have been barred, chained, and with guards posted.

She was trapped.

Without a word, Master Marshall pointed to his desk. Ducking her head, Tabby went. Though he didn’t offer, when Tabby reached the first chair, she sat down. While she still could. She looked at him.

“Name,” he asked, sitting down on the edge of his desk and picking up the next file. “Tell me about yourself.”

Clasping her hands tight in her lap, Tabby cleared her throat. “Tabitha Black, but my friends call me Tabby. I’ve been writing naughty stories about spanking and sex for ten years. Despite several attempts to ‘get a real job’, somehow I always end up back in the adult genre… be it as a glamour model, chat host or, of course, writer of erotica.”

He made a note in her file. That was unnerving. What could he possibly be writing? “And your decision to come to the Castle, what brought that about?”
Desperate to diffuse some of the tension in the room, Tabby made a crack at humor. “Pfft,” she said with a wave of her hand. “That’s a silly question!”
Only his eyes moved when he glanced up from his page and pinned her with another ‘Look’.

“Er…” All attempts at humor melted right out of her. She cleared her throat again. “Sir. It’s simple really: the Castle is my idea of paradise. Naughty, lovely women, gorgeous, dominant men.” She looked at him, a slow flush of heat burning straight up from her belly into her face. She cleared her throat again. “A-also the ability to experience all one’s kinky fantasies in one breathtaking setting.

Oh, and the Wardrobe. Who doesn’t like dressing up?”
“Who doesn’t, indeed.” Rather than complimented, as she’d hoped he might be, Master Marshall became only more stern. “Were you unaware of our privacy standards when you wrote your story?”

Tabby’s fingers fidgeted in her lap. “Well…um…yes. But you see, I’ve been meaning to write a ménage for a long time. When I heard about the resident twins, Master Travis and Master Trevor, I couldn’t resist telling their story. They really are devastatingly handsome, even though I’m not usually attracted to blond men.” Her blush deepened as she cast a quick glance at his own blond head. She cleared her throat yet again. “Well… there are exceptions, of course.”
She tried to laugh it off, but it came out sounding too high-pitched and half-strangled.

“Are you nervous?” Master Marshall asked, his silken tone vaguely mocking. He already knew the answer.

“Nope,” Tabby lied, again too high-pitched and still half-strangled. “A-a-anyway, what I really adore about the brothers is their ability to go from easy-going and funny to predatory and—” He made another note in his file, and it was killing her not to know what he was putting down there. “—and faint-makingly intense in an instant. It’s uncanny. No wonder Silver couldn’t resist them. I defy any woman to maintain a dry gusset once they turn those dark glittering eyes on her.”

“How is your gusset right now?” he countered, the corners of his mouth curling into a knowing smile.

The heat in her face kicked up so high it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust where she was sitting.

Without waiting for an answer, Master Marshall said, “I’m curious. Were I to allow you access to our Castle, what program do you think you’d be most interested in trying?”

He was going to let her visit the Castle? Seriously? Momentarily forgetting her embarrassment, poor, sniffling Maren in the corner, everything, Tabby jumped at the chance. “All of them! Although I’d probably go to the dungeon first. I’d like to see whether Master Dominick really is as brilliant as he’s rumoured to be—” She stopped, her eyes rounding wide. “Oh, crap, did I say that out loud?”
Master Marshall’s smile both widened and darkened. “Is that who you’d like to be assigned to, little Ms. Tabby?”

Oh, she did not like the way he’d just said her name. She tried to laugh again, but still couldn’t quite manage it. “Oh, I-I don’t know how I’d possibly be able to choose just one – they’re all wonderful in their own way. But as I said in my previous answer… I’m quite a little masochist, so I’d be very interested to spend some… er… quality time with Master Dominick.”

Master Marshall chuckled then and set his file aside. “Is that a fact? Have you any hard limits, or kinks you’ve never experienced but always wanted to?”

“Not really.” Tabby had to work to keep her tone strong and even. Both the direction of the conversation and the way he kept looking at her were working together to turn her into an absolute wreck right there in his chair. “I’ve been very lucky in that I’ve pretty much tried them all—at least, all the ones which interested me. Maybe I’d delve a little deeper into my Little side, if I found the right Daddy. That’s one aspect of BDSM I haven’t explored very much in real life yet.”

“Hm.” Pushing up off his desk, Master Marshall circled around her chair on his way to the open implement cabinet behind her. “Tell me, what are your favorite implements?”

A softly whispered, “Don’t do it,” issued from somewhere behind her.
“No talking from the corner,” Master Marshall said evenly.

Tabby was beyond heeding any kind of warning. Her belly was a mass of warring nerves and anticipation, dread and excitement. “Anything thuddy,” she admitted. “I like thick, heavy floggers and big… er… sticks. I got paddled with a cricket bat once. It was awesome. I also have a particular weakness for knife play; something I discovered I have in common with Silver.”

“Master Dominick will be thrilled to know that. He doesn’t get to play with his knives anywhere near as often as he would like to.”

A clatter of something heavy and wooden being withdrawn from that cabinet made every wildly buzzing nerve ending in Tabby’s body come to a violent stand still. It was a paddle. A big one, long and heavy. Thuddy, her brain helpfully supplied. She melted.

“Stand up.” Coming back to her, Master Marshall didn’t wait for her to comply, but caught the back of her neck in his strong, warm hand and guided her straight out of her chair. “Bend.”

“Wait…” Tabby said, but it was a weak protest even to her ears. She couldn’t believe it. She was in the Castle, bending over Master Marshall’s desk, and he was taking her pants down. He didn’t even ask first, he just did it! Her breath caught, choking her when she felt him hook the elastic edges of her underwear, pulling it right up into the crack of her buttocks, effectively baring them to the cool press of the heavy wooden paddle.

“I assume you’ve read our brochure?” he asked, seeming so calmly reasonable when suddenly everything inside of her was a jumble of hectic anticipation. “In particular, I assume you are aware of my rule regarding submissives not leaving my office unspanked?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed, her eyes huge and staring straight down at the wide expanse of his desk just inches from the tip of her nose.

“Good. Then, let’s talk.” The paddle stroked the quivering surface of her almost naked bottom, a single circling pass that seemed to cover every spankable inch of her with very little effort. “In particular, let’s talk about your complete lack of respect for our privacy standards.”

***

*Gulp*

Want to know what happens next? You can find out for FREE by reading Maren's wonderful novella; "Meeting Marshall" on Amazon or Blushing Books. 

As for me... I'll be writing standing up for a day or two. Yum.