New Release! Challenging Chelsey

It's an exciting day at Etta Stark Towers. My brand spanking new book Challenging Chelsey goes on sale today!

“What happens if I don’t do what I’m told? Do I get punished?”

Six years ago, Chelsey Roberts’ life fell apart when her parents and older brother were killed in a terrorist attack in London.

When Harry Ratcliffe, her brother’s best friend finds her homeless and begging for change, he offers her a place to stay and the chance to turn her life around. It’s what anyone would do in the circumstances, right? For old times’ sake.

But Chelsey isn’t a teenager anymore. Their feelings for one another grow and Harry discovers that he would do anything for this woman. Including giving her the discipline that she needs.

Harry challenges this erratic young woman to obey him and accept his punishments and through his care, Chelsey finds a new freedom and happiness which helps her overcome the demons of her past.

US Amazon
UK Amazon

Book Review - Freedom in Submission by Alexandra Noir

"I don't mind you hitting me," she said simply, hoping it would be enough to make him truly see her.

Four Stars

Freedom inSubmission takes place in seventeenth century Massachusetts during the time of the Salem Witch Trials. Before things take a bit of turn towards the kinky, the story paints an absorbing and accurate picture of Puritan family life at the time.

Nice respectable married couple, Ezekiel and Martha, have some secret hidden kinky BDSM desires burning away under their modest puritan garb. In Ezekiel’s case these desires are so hidden that he didn’t even know he had them.

Martha is a bit more experienced in the whole BDSM business having got up to all sorts in her previous marriage and with a clandestine kinkster society in the village. She’d shelved all thoughts of such naughtiness during her seven year marriage but when events bring it all back into focus, she has to admit to herself that her masochistic submissive self is who she is.

Puritans. Sex-mad bunch of kinksters, apparently.

And, happily, after a bit of understandable reticence, Ezekiel realises he is totally on board with the whole Driven-by-one-lusts Dom business. The sex and BDSM scenes are pretty hot and it’s great to read a book where it’s the Dom who’s the newbie rather than the other way round.

Frustratingly, this is only the first part of the ‘BDSM and Magic in the Colonies’ set so the story doesn’t really get a chance to develop. The ongoing witchcraft trials are mentioned but are not really part of the story. A slightly sinister turn towards the end of the book suggests that Ezekiel and Martha are going to be drawn further into this world of devilment and hysteria.

It’s a bit unfair of me to complain about this just being the first part of a larger story as I appreciate that this is the way the author chooses to publish. It’s probably quite a good business model – get readers hooked and ensure sales for the next instalment. Most of the books I read don’t follow this format though and come with a beginning, middle and end. Stuff happens, stuff gets resolved, sex ‘n’ spanks happen and then our hero and heroine live happily ever after. I felt a bit short-changed when I reached the end and found myself with more questions than answers.

Why did you spend so long talking about Goody Nurse at the beginning only for her never to be mentioned again? What's the deal with the witchcraft trials? Is it all just distortion and disinformation? Or is everyone actually worshipping Satan in their spare time? Is the Minister a Good Pervert or a Bad Pervert?

Bad Pervert

Well, there you go. Clearly Alexandra Noir knows what she’s doing. I’ll be buying the next instalment as soon as it comes out. I’m hooked.

Want to know more about the book review star rating system? Or find out what other books I've reviewed? Check out this page here.

Hatari loves you

The Eurovision Song Contest happened this month. I love a bit of Eurovision. Even when the UK couldn't actually do any worse if it tried. Poor Michael Wotsisflip and his perfectly adequate performance. It wasn't the absolute shittest song that night. It deserved better than last place. Fourth from last at the very least, I reckon.

In the run up to the competition - during the time when I was ordering mini-flags from Amazon and planning my eurocheeseboard - I was especially excited to hear about Iceland's entry to the competition,  anti-Capitalist BDSM techo performance art group, Hatari.

I'm all for there being more BDSM on Light Entertainment television programmes. More BDSM everywhere, I say.

As it turns out, I was a bit disappointed by Hatari's performance on the night. The song was great in a shouty goth way, their dancing was enthusiastic and they'd obviously gone to a lot of trouble with their costumes.

"Life is meaningless. The Void will get us all."
Everybody, sing along!

I think I just wanted rather more BDSM from my BDSM performance art group. I'm willing to accept that this may have been an unrealistic expectation. Maybe the Eurovision Song Contest isn't ready for shibari, nipple clamps, CBT and floggings just yet. As it turned out, the only BDSMesque thing about the band's performance were the outfits.

Wearing a lot of PVC, leather and straps isn't really noteworthy in the world of popular music though, is it? It's just one stage up from ubiquitous corset and fishnets as stagewear. In the very same competition, Cyprus's Tamta and friends were rocking outfits that might well have been bought at the same Fetish Fair as Hatari's.

I'm not holding any kind of grudge against Hatari though. The more I find out about them, the more I like them. They are absolute poppets.

There are three core members of the band:  Klemens Hannigan who looks like Ben Hardy playing Roger Taylor in Bohemian Rhapsody;  Matthias Tryggri Haraldsson who looks like Neil from the Inbetweeners and Einar Hrafn Stefansson who looks like half a transformer.

Spot the difference. You can't can you?

They are all exceptionally polite and softly-spoken in interviews. Their particular areas of interest are death, the overhaul of human society, the pretentiousness of human existence and the end of the world. Also cake, apparently. Hatari loves cake.

And Hatari loves you.

Earlier this year, they challenged the Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu to a friendly game of  Glima - Icelandic Trouser-Grip Wrestling, stating that if their representative won the game, then the band would be permitted to establish within Israel the “first ever Hatari-sponsored liberal BDSM colony on the Mediterranean coast”. Sadly, Mr Netanyahu didn't take them up on the challenge.

Glima belts.
You can see why our BDSM-loving boys might like it.

The contest was hosted by Israel this year and Hatari caused controversy by waving Palestinian flags while they were onscreen during the voting. This sounds cool and I'm sure they meant well by it but I have to say I'm with the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI), which had demanded all acts pull out of the event. “Palestinian civil society overwhelmingly rejects fig-leaf gestures of solidarity from international artists crossing our peaceful picket line.” Any band who really wanted to support the Palestinian people shouldn't have been performing at this year's Eurovision.

Not that I can talk, obviously. I watched the bloody thing.

Any stated desire by Hatari to change the world should probably be taken with a pinch of salt. "Eurovision is part of Hatari's vision to bring Capitalism to its knees." Good luck with that, chaps. Someone needs to do it. It might as well be you guys.

But whatever they're doing I hope they carry on doing it for a good long while yet. They're outrageously deadpan, cheerfully nihilistic and obviously a bit kinky. Hatari, I do believe I love you.

The Duke of Burgundy

I feel like I should put a *MASSIVE SPOILER ALERT* at the top of this post. The Duke of Burgundy is not the sort of film you can spoil exactly. It's not a whodunit. It's not like I'm going to give away the fact that the main protagonist was a secret alien cyborg from the future all along. But I went into this film without knowing anything about it at all and that's an approach I'd highly recommend. So, if you haven't seen it, I reckon you should go away, watch the movie and then come back and read the review below. Because, apart from anything else, I do talk about the ending.

Peter Strickland's 2014 lesbian BDSM romantic drama The Duke of Burgundy is not the film I expected it to be. It certainly isn't the film that this trailer thinks it is.

All those bits in the trailer hinting at sexy sex times and BDSM punishment? They're pretty much the most explicit scenes in the film. The Duke of Burgundy isn't a no-holds-barred explicit lesbian fetish-a-thon. At least not in that way.

Why do the makers of trailers do that? Deliberately create a trailer that promises a completely different film from the one that it actually delivers? Surely you just end up with with a bunch of disgruntled cinema-goers.

"What the hell was this?" your hypothetical cinema-goer might say, "I expected lots of naked girl-on-girl action and explicit BDSM pervery! Instead I got some kind of arty-farty slightly surreal portrayal of a struggling relationship. I barely even managed a wank. Two stars!"

There's a lot less of this sort of thing than you might imagine.

With that out of the way, I want to make it clear that The Duke of Burgundy is a very, very good film. Evelyn (Chiara D'Anna) and Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen) inhabit a slightly dreamlike world set in no particular time period or geographical location. Our first introduction to the two central characters is when Evelyn arrives at Cynthia's front door to be told, very sternly, that she's late. "I'm sorry," says Evelyn. "You will be," Cynthia replies. Cynthia then rebukes Evelyn for sitting on the sofa without permission before instructing her to clean the study. We see Evelyn scrubbing floors while Cynthia lounges around drinking wine and reading with a haughty demeanour which makes her look every inch the unforgiving Mistress. Evelyn, meanwhile, looks cowed and slightly terrified. She begs permission to be allowed to leave once all her housekeeping duties have been performed. That permission is denied.

It quickly becomes apparent that nothing that we have seen can be taken at face value. Evelyn and Cynthia live together. Far from being abused, Evelyn is having a delightful time. And she is the one who is calling all the shots. The Maid-and-Mistress scenes we have just seen are meticulously orchestrated fantasies of Evelyn's which are played out again and again throughout the film by the two lovers.

As we see the same scenes being re-enacted throughout the progression of the film, the nuances of the participants' performances begin to shift. Evelyn may be having the time of her life - scrubbing floors, washing her Mistress's knickers, enduring some kind of off-screen water-based punishment - but it becomes apparent that Cynthia is struggling with her role as a Domme.

At first, I assumed that Cynthia had originally been up for the D/s lifestyle that she had adopted with Evelyn. (We are, tellingly, never shown the beginning of Evelyn and Cynthia's relationship. We never get to hear the conversations that led to Evelyn's extreme submission fantasies being fulfilled.) Then I thought that she had once been into it but had become bored with the arrangement. As the story progressed, however, I understood that being the 'D' in a D/s relationship had never been Cynthia's thing. It was just something that she was prepared to do in order to keep her lover happy.

As Evelyn pushes to take her submissive role further - Human Toilet! Being manacled and locked in a wooden chest all night! That sort of thing! - Cynthia finds it increasingly difficult to be the Dominant that Evelyn wants her to be.

As far as understanding the nature of a D/s relationship, this film provides a very one sided view. Evelyn and Cynthia's relationship is not a healthy one and the D/s aspects are clearly dysfunctional. We're mostly watching two frequently miserable people in love with one other struggling to find a way in which their relationship might survive.

It's frustrating to watch as a kinkster because only Evelyn's actions are motivated by her kinks. Cynthia's reasons for participating in the whole BDSM set-up are a lot more vanilla. This film doesn't attempt to shed any light on what makes a Dom tick.

Which is annoying for me because that’s the half of the dynamic that I would like to understand better. I don’t really understand what a Dominant gets out of the arrangement. I get where Evelyn is coming from. I can relate to it. Not to the extent she does or the extremes she wishes to take it, admittedly, and her kinks are definitely not my kinks. Mine involve a lot less housework, for one thing. But the bossy sub thing? Yeah, I get it. I’ve mentioned before that all the subs I know tend to be fairly opinionated strong-willed types. We have to be. We are people who have negotiated how to get exactly what we want. You don’t manage that if you’re a bit of a pushover.

Evelyn controls the role-playing between her and Cynthia by means of handwritten cards, giving detailed instructions of exactly how she wants her Domme to behave. Again, Evelyn’s cards are rather more thorough than anything I would come up with. The scenes are scripted to the exact word. Cynthia even has masking-taped ‘marks’ on the floor so that she stands in exactly the right position when reprimanding Evelyn. I have no intention of taking it to that level but I have been known to provide some fairly detailed instructive texts describing exactly what I want during the times I’m ostensibly the one following orders.

There are certainly moments of humour in the film. (In a wry smile kind of way rather than full on hearty chuckling.) There’s a scene where Evelyn and Cynthia have an appointment with a kinky bed manufacturing lady (Fatma Mohamed). Having discussed the options of building a bed in which Evelyn can be restrained while her lover sleeps on top of her, Evelyn is then brought near to tears with frustration when she realises that there’s no way that such a bed can be manufactured in time for her birthday. Wracking her brains for a way to keep her customers happy, the carpenter says “Would a human toilet be a suitable compromise?” Evelyn’s face lights up and her look of excitement and joy is wonderful to behold.

(Although, what was up with Kinky Bed Lady telling her clients that she had recently supplied a similar item of furniture to someone else in the neighbourhood and supplying enough details that Evelyn and Cynthia could easily work out who she was? What way is that to run a kinky bed business? Have you no respect for client confidentiality? Surely the Number One rule in the Bespoke Furniture For Perverts business is absolute discretion.)

The admissions of infidelity that occur when Cynthia finds out that Evelyn has been cleaning another woman’s boots are also a moment of bittersweet comedy. They just sound so absurd. “There was just some scolding. She said a few harsh words. That was all, I swear!”

You don’t get the impression that Strickland is any way mocking the BDSM lifestyle, though. Evelyn’s unusual needs and desires are absolutely central to the film. There is no doubt that her desire to be commanded, subjugated, constrained and punished are absolutely key to who she is.

Which makes Cynthia’s increasingly faltering ability to meet those needs all the more heartbreaking. In one key scene, Evelyn demands that Cynthia talk dirty to her while she masturbates. Cynthia attempts to start the conversation by telling Evelyn how much she loves her but that isn’t what Evelyn wants. So Cynthia gives Evelyn what she wants. She tells her that she’s her maid, that she belongs entirely to her, that she must do exactly what she’s told or else she’ll be punished. Evelyn keeps pushing. “More, more!” she says. And Cynthia falters. A look of panic crosses her face as she says “I don’t know what else to say.” “Just go back to the beginning” Evelyn tells her. So Cynthia tries her hardest, tells Evelyn what she needs to hear in order to reach her climax. Then post-orgasm, Evelyn tells Cynthia “Next time, try to do it with a little more conviction in your voice.” For fuck’s sake, there’s really no pleasing some subs.

The film’s ending is slightly ambiguous. Acknowledging her partner’s distress in having to enact the role of her Domme, Evelyn reassures Cynthia that they don’t have to do it, anymore. That she would be content with a vanilla relationship with her. Because she loves her and anything else is just an extra. However, the very last scene of the film is the exact same Mistress/maid scenario with which the film opened. I did wonder if this was a flashback to earlier, happier times. But, you know, I don’t think this film actually had any flashbacks. It felt like there were because of the way the pair re-enacted the same scenes over and over again. But I think the film was actually entirely chronological. I would need to watch it again to check.

My interpretation (and other cleverer and filmier people than me have agreed with this when I have discussed it with them) is that Evelyn and Cynthia’s attempt at a non D/s relationship failed. Evelyn couldn't live without it. Cynthia couldn't deny Evelyn the thing that made her so happy.

I would absolutely recommend that everyone watches this film. And not just kinky people. It was hugely critically acclaimed. It’s beautiful and sparse and exquisitely shot. The soundtrack sends shivers up your spine. Regardless of whether you’re sub, Dom or entirely oblivious to the fact that people get up to these sorts of shenanigans, you will find yourself drawn into the claustrophobic, slightly unreal world of two people who are in love and who are desperately, sometimes clumsily, trying to make that love work. Just don’t go expecting a full-on wankfest chock full of lesbian sex, bondage and watersports. Honestly, it’s not that kind of film.

The Flappiness of Floggers

Flappy

Not surprisingly, when I meet other kinksters, the conversation often turns to the subject of favourite and least favourite spanking implements. It's a tricky one to answer. It's only been a year and a half since spanking became something that actually happened in my life (rather than something that I just thought about obsessively) and the the novelty really hasn't come close to wearing off yet. I am still surprised and delighted that people are prepared to spend time spanking me with anything at all. Not least because as a non-switchy type, I have no idea what they're getting out of it. I would be bored after five minutes. Yet I seem to have found a bunch of people who have not only been happy to spend hours using a whole load of different spanky toys on my arse but also seem to be enjoying themselves. Although I can't believe that they're having as much fun as I am.

This is pretty much how I look post-spanking.

I do like a thuddy toy. I think paddles are my all-time favourite thing. But it's all about the variety, really. You can't beat a bit of stinginess; I'm terribly fond of canes. The stingiest thing I've ever been hit with was a dressage whip. That hurt. But, as with all stingy things, the pain went away quite quickly unlike with thuddy things where the pain just keeps on building.

Ouchy

When it comes to my least favourite implement though, then that's definitely the flogger. They're just so annoyingly flappy. I know lots of people are very keen on them but I find them quite irritating. Largely because a lot of the time they're not being used to cause pain. I like pain. I don't really do 'sensation play'. If I'm on the receiving end of a light flogging, there's a bit of me thinking "Oh, come on. I'm not after a massage here." I don't want to be lightly caressed.

Caress-y

Of course, floggers can hurt as has been demonstrated on me on a number of occasions. But even then, it's not the right kind of pain. It's all sort of unfocused and all over the place. It doesn't connect in the same way that a paddle or a cane or well-aimed hand does.

Now, I am fully accepting of the fact that I am going to be flogged. I haven't had a Spanking Friend who hasn't used a flogger on me. Doms love a flogger. I understand that they are quite satisfying to wield. And I don't mind them. As part of an overall spanking experience, they're fine.

Definitely not my favourite though. If I had a spanking which only consisted of a hand-spanking and a flogging, I think I would feel quite unsatisfied at the end. Whereas I would be entirely content with just "hand spanking and paddling", I reckon. Or "hand spanking and caning".

I admit I'm being a bit unreasonable as 'flogger' covers a wide variety of different kinky spank-toys. Big, small, leather, suede, rubber. Googling for flogger images has revealed that Uberkinky have a metal ball chain flogger that they describe as having "serious bite". Yes, I'm sure it does.

Bitey

Current Gentleman Spanking Friend recently purchased a pink plastic flogger. It's bright and cheerful and looks like the sort of thing you'd be able to buy in the gift shop at Chessington World of Adventures. That flogger wasn't flappy and ineffectual at all. It had quite the sting to it. Rather too much, as it goes, as our first go had to be curtailed due to the damn thing cutting my skin. Because personally while I'm all about the pain, drawing blood is never on the to-do list during a spanking.

He's made some adjustments to the end of the tails which were causing the problem so hopefully it'll be back in play for his next visit. With the literal rough edges taken care of, it's definitely a flogger that I would be happy to spend more time with. I don't think it undermines my "not really liking floggers" point though. I think if you put this particular flogger on a Spanking Implements Venn Diagram (and I really need to start constructing a Spanking Implements Venn Diagram) then it would be in the bit where floggers and whips overlap.

Not flappy

Incidentally, Current Gentleman Spanking Friend has named this particular item 'Felicia'. Because apparently naming one's spanking implements is a Thing That Doms Do. I remain unconvinced. I think he's a strange man. But, hey, whatever makes him happy. I'm not about to judge other people's weirdness.

There are so, so many different kinds of implements out there to be spanked with. From the hastily improvised to the meticulously crafted by artisan perverts. I went to the London Alternative Market fetish fair recently. My goodness, there an awful lot of things you can buy which have been specifically designed to be used on a willing sub. And, frankly, I'm happy to try most of them. It really is a most delightful journey. Bring it on! The thuddy, the slappy, the stingy, the whippy and, yes on occasion, the annoyingly flappy.

Bad Neighbours

Of course, this movie was just called "Neighbors" in the US.
I assume they changed it for us Brits, because "Neighbours" would just make us think of a certain Australian soap opera, Kylie Minogue and the ear-wormiest theme song in the history of ever.

I've mentioned before that spanking is a noisy business. Unless you have some kind of fully soundproofed spank dungeon, I'm sure you're aware that the application of a stout wooden paddle to a fleshy backside can have a bit of a reverberating sound to it. (Incidentally, if you do have a fully soundproofed spank dungeon, can I borrow it sometime, please?)

I live in a block of flats so I potentially have three lots of neighbours who might be disturbed by the sounds of the occasional spanky shenanigans which occur round my place. Because my apartments are relatively newly built and because I never hear what my neighbours are up to (and I'm not just talking about kinky stuff), I like to kid myself that noise-wise my home is pretty well insulated. Still, even if it isn't, I never see my neighbours. It's not like we need to make awkward chitchat while washing our cars or weeding our front gardens.

Nicer people than me are probably more concerned about disturbing their neighbours. My current gentleman spanker friend was very aware of how noisy the whole business was when we were round his house the other day. Happily, that didn't stop him having at it with gusto. Apart from the occasional "ow", "ouch" or "fucking hell!", I'm not a particularly noisy spankee. But, like I said, the sound of wood or leather or a an open palm enthusiastically applied to a willing arse, well it's not exactly quiet, is it?

In the right hands, this hairbrush can make a lot of noise.

Later on in the evening we were chilling out and cuddling and watching Doctor Who (in fact I think we were literally "Netflix and Chill"ing. You know like cool young people do. Unless I've hopelessly misunderstood that particular meme) when there was a ring at his doorbell. He was all "Who the hell is calling at at 10 o'clock in the evening?"

I was briefly worried that I might have to reassure some well-meaning neighbours that my friend wasn't imprisoning and beating some poor hapless woman against her will. Luckily, they were just handing over a parcel which had been delivered earlier that day.

Thing is, the parcel in question was a leather gladiator kilt. And it was entirely clear from the
packaging exactly what it was. (Poor show, leatheraddicts.com, have you never heard of discretion?)

Maybe don't get this delivered to your mum's house.

Gentleman spanking friend is convinced that not only do his neighbours now know that he's a pervert, but that they spent the evening discussing when was best to drop the package off. "Shall we take it round now, do you think?" "Best not, just at the moment. He sounds busy." Then politely waiting until there was a lull in the spanking noises before nipping round.

Oh I hope my kinks don't make me un-neighbourly. I try to be a nice person. I don't drop litter, I recycle, I buy copious amounts of sweets every Halloween just in case (even though Trick or Treating isn't something that ever happens round these parts). If I am a nuisance, I'd like to think that at the very least, it might give the neighbours something to chat to one another about. "Oh hello, Doris. You know her at number 9? Well, you'd never guess what she gets up to. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she planted some pampas grass outside her house. You never know with those types."

Book Review - Tell Me by Ashe Barker

Want to know more about the book review star rating system? Or find out what other books I've reviewed? Check out this page here.

Tell Me

A friend recommended that I read Ashe Barker's modern-day Yorkshire-based BDSM romance Tell Me. "You'll love it," she told me. "There's loads of tea-drinking in it."

She wasn't being sarcastic, by the way. I really do love me some tea-drinking. I've blogged about it and everything.

Tell Me's heroine Thea is equally fond of a cuppa and the fact that she favours Earl Grey as her blend of choice endears her to me still further. Earl Grey is the King Of Teas (or, I guess more accurately, the Earl of Teas) and is suitable for any beverage drinking occasion. Especially pre- and post-BDSM spanking scenarios. Tea-drinking tends to feature in my real-life spanking experiences a lot - largely because it suits the occasion so much better than, say, a big ol' load of alcohol. Something that Twinings weirdly never seem to mention it in its advertising.

Just been spanked? Have a brew.

This book isn't all about the tea-drinking, of course (although I counted over a dozen separate Earl Grey-sipping incidents, so if you are as attracted to the tea-drinking aspects as I am, you won't be disappointed).

The book's heroine, Thea has a been enjoying a mutually satisfying BDSM relationship with her Dom, Tony diMarco during their frequent rendez-vous at a local Kink Club. The arrangement suits Thea very well as the private anonymous club allows her to keep the submissive side of herself entirely separate from the rest of her life.

Thea's private, public and professional life coincide when she is temporarily seconded to provide business expertise to another company and discovers that the CEO to whom she'll be reporting is none other than her sexy, very dominant playfellow, Tony. This initially sends her into a tailspin as she struggles to reconcile the very different aspects of her personality. That of being both an intelligent, successful businesswoman and also the sort of person who likes to submit to being tied up and punished.

The new situation is just as much a surprise for Tony but he handles the whole thing in a far more relaxed fashion. He is very keen to take things with Thea to the next level and - via kinky spankings, tea-making and generally being bloody lovely - persuades Thea to embark on a romantic relationship outside of the confines of their BDSM club.

While they are busy redefining the parameters of their relationship, Thea and Tony are also sorting out the various corporate challenges that face them at Something-Or-Other Industries. I found the business-side aspects the least engaging part of the book, to be honest. It's Ashe Barker's fault for making all the legal and HR aspects of the business so realistic. I've only recently managed to escape the world of Office-based employment. Corporate meetings in boardrooms do nothing for me.

First Item on the Agenda: Getting some more effective blinds.

The relationship between Thea and Tony is just wonderful, though. They are both beautifully drawn characters. Tony may be a high-powered Leader of Industry and a stern spanky Dominant but he's clearly a lovely bloke with not a whiff of Christian Grey-style dickishness about him. And Thea is great. There's always a risk when writing characters who embrace their submissive side that you can end up with a heroine who comes across as a bit weak and doormat-y. There's no chance of that here. For all her fears and reservations, Thea is a strong, confident, intelligent woman who is professionally at the top of her game. And, despite a few wobbles, she is clever enough to realise that her D/s relationship with Tony makes her a stronger - rather than a weaker - person.

Oh, and did I mention the BDSM scenes in Tell Me are very hot? And delightfully frequent?

Thea knew what he wanted, and that he would continue to punish her poor throbbing bottom until he was satisfied all resistance had gone. She concentrated on not not tightening her muscles, working to accept all that he offered.

The blows all melted into one. Her bottom was on fire, her thighs too as he dropped stroke after sizzling stroke on her unprotected skin. She would inspect later, but knew her backside must be bright crimson. The pain was relentless, building, growing, spreading, consuming her. Thea sobbed and screamed behind the gag.

The couple provide a united front dealing with their developing romantic and business relationship tackling corporate malpractice, industrial sabotage and a very nasty Revenge Porn incident. Even during their trickier moments, there is no doubt that these two people belong together.

Thea and Tony's mutually supportive and utterly kinky relationship made me feel all warm inside. And I'm pretty sure that wasn't just down to the piping hot mug of Earl Grey I was sipping while reading it.

Don't Tell The Children.

Spanky romantic relationships don't happen in a vacuum. Many of my fellow spanky romance writers are happily married wives with a clutch of dependent offspring.

I imagine that maintaining an enthusiastic and abundant sex life is a tricky thing when you have a herd of tiny unreliable sleepers about the place at the best of times. Does this get a whole lot trickier when there's spank-based kinkery involved?

Spanking is loud. I live in an apartment block and worry that my neighbours may have been occasionally subjected to the resoundingly loud noise of a visiting gentleman's hand repeatedly hitting my arse. I do hope not. I never hear what my neighbours are up to. I hope this is because the building is well sound-proofed. Of course, it could just be that all my neighbours are terribly, terribly quiet and I am the inadvertent kinky Nightmare Neighbour from Hell.

"Hand spankings, paddlings, canings, whippings. It went on for hours.
Honestly we had to turn the volume on the television right down so we could listen in properly."

I am a parent, too, of course. Not that I have to worry about my daughter overhearing my spanking shenanigans. She's an adult. Although she nominally lives at the same address as me, even when she's not at university she generally has better places to be. I do have to warn her when popping home unexpectedly might be a bit awkward. "You're not planning to come round next Thursday are you? No particular reason."

She knows I've been dating and she seems to be pretty happy about it. I imagine she thinks it's vanilla sex that I don't want interrupting, though. And while nobody wants to walk in and find their middle-aged mum sexing it up with a gentleman friend, I kind of think it would be worse if she came home unexpectedly and found me tied to the dining room table on the receiving end of a severe caning. Which is why I always bolt the door. Just in case.

I appreciate that locking your children out of the house isn't really a workable option when they are school-age or younger. As a single parent, I got round this by having no sex at all for a decade and a half and only finally embraced the kinky BDSM lifestyle once my daughter had buggered off to live in a different county. I don't recommend this approach, by the way.

Parents have sex. It's allowed. I have a younger sibling which means my mum and dad must have had sex at least once since I was born. It's possible that they have had sex more than once since 1974. They clearly still fancy one another. I am not going to consider it though because parents + sex = ewwwww. Nope. Not even going to think about it.

I do accept that this isn't a healthy attitude on my part. Not only do parents have sex. Frequently they have sex for reasons other than making babies.

Babette Cole's wonderful book Mummy Laid An Egg explains exactly where babies come from. It's written for children and brilliantly - while also explaining about penises and vaginas and sperm and whatnot - tells small people that Mummy and Daddy also have sex for fun. Here are some ways mummies and daddies fit together:
And while I'm delighted that kids who read this book might grow up thinking that skateboard sex, clown sex, helium balloon sex and space hopper sex are a natural part of adult interpersonal relationships, it sadly doesn't cover the option that sometimes a man and a woman who love each other very much may choose to hit one another with sturdy implements and leave a week's worth of bruises.

So, how do you manage it, kinky parents? Does every one-hour child-free window mean a quick sprint to the spanky toy bag so that you can fit in a swift bit of paddling/nipple-clamping/*insert kinky fetish-ing here* before you have to go and pick the kids up from Scouts? Do you just shrug it off if one of your offspring wanders into your bedroom at 11pm and sees Mum bent over Dad's lap with her knickers round her knees? "Go back to bed, Riley. I'm busy inspecting Mummy's bottom. It's a Grown-Up thing."

Recently, Reddit had a thread about "Things You Don't Want Your Children To Know About You". One of the responses was "That daddy and I don't go to 'dinner parties', we hit up swing clubs."

I assume they're talking about swinging rather than swing jazz, here.
Doesn't look much like a sex club, though.

Do kids need to know about their parents' sex lives? Probably not. But do young people need to know as much as possible about sex? Abso-fucking-lutely. I have always had an open dialogue with my daughter about sex, contraception, only doing things that you're OK with and never ever letting people slut-shame you. I know a frankly ridiculous amount about my daughter's sex life. I am delighted that she is she so open about it with me. She probably knows more about my sex life than is usual in these circumstances. Although she does get the vanilla PG version, to be fair.

Maybe I'm just getting the vanilla version of my daughter's sex life. That's fine. I go to munches regularly. I live in a university town so we get a lot of students attending. My daughter's university is only forty-five minutes drive from here. I have a friend who is one of the organisers for munches in my daughter's University town. He's mentioned that they they get a lot of students there too, and, for all I know, my kid might be a munch regular, I'm fine with that. If she does have a kinky side, I hope she doesn't wait until she's forty before she embraces it. As long as we're not attending the same munches or BDSM sex clubs as one another, it's fine.

Sooner or later, every parent has to have the "Where do babies come from?" conversation. And, you know what, you don't get to have it once and then wash your hands of it. You have the "Where do babies come from?" conversation frequently over many years in a variety of age-appropriate ways. And when you have a nineteen year old daughter, the conversation largely consists of you saying "Here, have all these condoms. Please don't make me a Grandma just yet."

I'm just not sure when spanking, caning, nipple clamps, butt plugs and bondage should be brought into the discussion. I don't think it was covered in any of the books I read. Parenting is a bloody tricky business.

Roleplay

This is my 'R' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

Recently I completed a BDSM likes and dislikes checklist. As did my current gentleman friend. I'm not recommending anyone else actually do this, to be fair. Especially this one which has about eleventy-million items on it, some of which are baffling vague.

How do I feel about "Slapping/Punching (back, buttocks, chest)"? Well, mostly I feel that there's a world of difference between being slapped on the buttocks and being punched in the chest. Your drop down list isn't really giving me nuanced enough options there, Wikiphilia. Also "panties" as a kink option? What's my experience of "panties"? Some? A lot? Expert? I mean, I wear knickers on a daily basis. After forty-odd years of knicker-wearing I feel like I should be able to count myself as as an expert. I don't think that's what they meant, though.

Happily, my friend's and my lists didn't reveal any major discrepancies in our tastes. We're both massively into spanking and happy to experiment with bondage. We already knew this about one another. Things might have become awkward if one of us had revealed that they found the idea of "human toilets" super hot.

There's nothing like going through a big fuck-off list like this one to make you realise quite how many things you're NOT into. Whole sections - Cutting, Breath Play, Humiliation - got a big fat NO from me.

The list also contained roleplay options. The "Animal Roleplay" and "Age Roleplay" sections were 'no's throughout. As were most of the options on the "General Roleplaying" list. Whore Play? Religious Scenes? Medical Scenes? Prison Scenes? Um, no thanks. Race Play? Huh? What the fuck?

(Not judging you if you are into any of the above roleplaying scenarios, by the way. I'm all about people enjoying their kinks. Well, I'm not sure about 'race play'. I might be judging you a wee bit on that one.)

But there were a couple of options on the list that I thought I might be willing to explore: "Schoolroom scenes" and "Fantasy Scenes". Those, I thought, sounded potentially interesting.

Roleplaying isn't something I've done before. Of course, you could argue that any kind of Dom/sub play is kind of role-playing. In real life, I am the least submissive person ever. I'm bolshy and argumentative and opinionated. However, in the right circumstances and with the right person, I am willing to take orders, surrender control and submit to being punished.

Could I take it further and participate in a whole roleplaying scenario? Dress up like a schoolgirl and take my punishment from a stern Headmaster? In theory, it's a marvellous idea. I haven't yet created a pie chart of all my mastubatory fantasies of the last twenty-five years (give it time) but I think "schoolgirl punishment" would have a quite a significant wedge of the pie if that chart ever did get created.

I am a terrible actress though. And, goodness knows, this whole BDSM spanking malarky is silly enough as it is. A clearly middle-aged woman pretending to be an errant schoolgirl is a whole world of extra silliness. It reminds me of this scene from 'Nighty Night' where Julia Davis is trying to get Mark Gatiss to participate in a teacher/schoolgirl roleplaying scene. (This scene isn't in any way sexy by the way. I do admire Gatiss's adherence to his 'schoolteacher' role in trying to explain Ox Bow lakes, though.)

"Oxbow lakes are the residue of rivers which used to flow around rocky outcrops..."
The suggestions offered by the Wikiphilia checklist for Fantasy Roleplay were "pirates, aliens, vampires, bikers..." OK, sure. Not sure any of those would make the pie chart, but why not? In fact, why not combine the lot and have a pirate alien vampire bikers scenario? Or we could have a scene in which we roleplay Firefly's Malcolm Reynolds giving Space-Whore, Inara a damn good spanking after an argument about shuttle rental renewal?

Because, you know, I look JUST like Morena Baccharin.
Apart from all the ways, I really, really don't.

Or maybe a Tenth Doctor/Donna Noble spanking scenario? Or maybe, going back to the classics, acting out the the "Badly Done, Emma" scene from Jane Austen's Emma and including the Knightley-administered spanking that the original scene was lacking?

I doubt I could carry it off, to be fair. Although the 'vampires' suggestion from Wikiphilia, does remind me of this scene from Buffy the Vampire Slayer where bad-boy sexy vampire, Spike, having developed a unhealthy crush on Buffy, encourages his vampire girlfriend, Harmony, to indulge in a bit of "Vampire Slayer" roleplay. Hey, whatever gets you through the night, sweetheart.


"I'm gonna stake you so much with the slaying powers that I have!"

I doubt any of those particular scenarios are going to be played out in my living room any time soon. I'm not ruling roleplay out, though. It could be silly, it could be fun, it might potentially be very, very hot in an altogether kinky-as-fuck way. (And I am very much in favour of kinky fun.) And with a lovely, understanding Dom, the worst that would probably happen is a massive fit of the giggles and one of us saying "Yeah, this isn't really working, is it? Cup of tea?"

Drinking tea is my NUMBER ONE fetish, obviously.
I'm surprised Wikiphilia left it off the checklist.

So go on, people, spill the beans. Have you done much roleplay? Do you all have a bunch of schoolgirl/nurse/Smurfette outfits at the back of your closets that you bring out for kinky roleplaying scenarios on special occasions? Share your experiences. And, most importantly, reassure me I'm not weird for considering it.

Gags

This is my 'G' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

When it comes to kinky activities, I'd like to think that I am open-minded and up for trying new stuff. (In fact when it comes to any activities, I'd like to think that I'm up for trying new stuff.)

The fact remains, though that I really do only have one very specific kink that occupies at least 90% of my thoughts at any given time. I just really, really like being hit on the arse with stuff.

I'm quite fond of bondage. Especially rope. It's something I would like to have the chance to explore further. But generally almost all of the kinky explorations I have undertaken over the last six months have involved finding exciting new things to be hit on the arse with. Sure, we can try other stuff. But won't that just cut into our spanking time?

There are a few things that I definitely don't want to try. Knife play is out. As is fire play. And I am not OK with any kind of playing in a public place. Outside of that, anything's up for discussion.

Which brings us on to gags. I haven't been gagged before but it is something that I would be willing to explore with a partner that I trusted.

The thing is, gags really scare me. I have been trying to work out my feelings behind this. Why am I OK with the idea of someone tying me up to the extent that I am completely at their mercy, yet the idea of having my mouth put out of action freaks me out?

I think, the answer lies in how I would feel if I were in a real-life dangerous situation. Say if I were kidnapped and being held hostage, the idea that being unable to speak would somehow be more dangerous than not being able to move. I don't rate my chances of being able to run away very fast. My chances of overcoming anyone in a fight are pretty much nil. At some level, I think that my best weapon in a dangerous situation would be the ability to talk my way out of it.

I hope I never get the chance to put this - frankly pretty shaky - hypothesis to the test. I do think that it goes some way to explaining my fear of gags though. If I'm gagged then I'm robbed of my ability to talk, I'm robbed of my use of language. This is far more incapacitating to me than being physically restrained.

You can tie me up; you can spank me; you can cane me; you can leave my backside covered in bruises and welts. And, quite frankly I wish you would. But try and shut me up for five minutes? That might be a challenge.