Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts

Wednesday, 18 March 2020

Book Review - Stolen Moments by Maren Smith


 

Five Stars!


Stolen Moments is a fantastically good book. It also, oddly, the first book I've read of Maren Smith's where I kind of wished there was less spanking in it.

Not because the spanking in this book isn't amazing. It is. The hero, Draven Gray, is a satisfying hunk of brawn, intelligence and emotional wherewithal all wrapped up in a butcher's apron. Flora O'Bannon is a twenty-first century girl in a nineteenth century spot of bother and often in need of a bit of discipline.

The thing is though, a lot of people in the world think that a book's hero shouldn't keep putting a grown woman over his knee and spanking her bare bottom. Those people are wrong of course but there you are. Maren Smith's book is so exquisitely written, so atmospheric and so compelling that, quite frankly, it deserves to be in every bookshop everywhere. It seems almost a shame to limit its readership to our little niche corner of unashamed spankos.

Pictured: Unashamed spankos
This is in no way a complaint, you understand. You know me, I'm all about the spankings. I also love time travel, historical romance and late nineteenth century London in particular so this book pushed all my buttons, ("Pushed my buttons" sounds so much like a sexual euphemism there that I am just going to leave it and pretend that I meant to do it.)

The sense of time and place is so brilliantly evoked that you can almost smell it. The dark dingy streets of Whitechapel serve as the backdrop to Flora's extraordinary adventure as she's whisked from present day New Orleans to London in 1888 and straight into the path of Jack the Ripper.

The violence depicted in the early part of the book is visceral and bloody. Smith spares us none of the grisly details of the Ripper's appalling crimes. Which makes it truly gut-wrenching when Flora's own life is in danger because we know what the man is capable of.

Contrasting with the horror, is the natural, supportive and loving relationship between Draven and Flora. A relationship that starts, as so many great storybook romances do, with the hero rescuing a damsel in distress. In fact, Flora is not so much distressed as completely unconscious and when her consciousness does come back, her memory doesn't come back with it.

Everything about this book is great. The dialogue is a joy to read. Making the hero a butcher by profession was a stroke of genius. I've been vegetarian for the last thirty years but now I'm wondering why all romantic heroes aren't butchers? Not only can he see off bad guys with a vast selection of knives and the knowledge of how to use them, but he'll then take you home and cook you a hot meal. What's not to love about that?

"Lay one hand on her and I will personally send you straight to the devil's front gate.
We have a long-standing relationship, he and I. You can give him my regards."
Stolen Moments is fast paced with plenty of plot twists to keep the reader on their toes throughout. Yet the love affair between the two main characters doesn't seem forced or rushed. The author allows enough space in the tightly-plotted action for the two characters to get to know one another properly.

At one point in the story, Draven wonders if Flora is "simply a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time". Flora may be a woman out of her own time but, it turns out, she is in exactly the place and time where she needs to be.


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.

Saturday, 2 November 2019

Book Review - Summer Storm by Marie Hall


Marshal Storm. Firm but fair.
 

Five Stars!

Marie Hall’s beautifully written Western is a delight to read. I loved it. Protagonists Marshal Chase Storm and Summer Rain are both intelligent, passionate, honourable and incredibly stubborn individuals. So naturally they butt heads for quite a lot of this book. Given that barely a chapter in – in an attempt to circumvent an unjust jail sentence – the two of them get married, they have more motivation than most to work things out. Which you know they will do because (a) it’s that sort of book and (b) they are both utterly lovely.

Summer has had a tough life. Her loving family was ripped away from her when she was still a child. When her path crosses with Chase’s many years later, she is working as a very successful bounty hunter with an independent streak so wide that it doesn’t really count as a streak any more and is just fundamentally who she is. She doesn’t need anyone in her life and she trusts no-one.

Calamity Summer

This is a problem if you’re married to a straightforward, fair-playing kind of a guy like Chase Storm. Happily, Chase gets his point across with numerous heavy-handed spankings. The relationship is beautifully balanced. Chase isn’t trying to break Summer’s spirit. He loves her pants-wearing sharp-shooting feisty independent nature. He also wants to keep her safe. It’s wonderful to watch Summer opening up to the possibility of love despite the numerous hurdles that they encounter on the way.

There’s plenty to enjoy in the meticulously painted portrait of life in the Old West. The narrative is crammed with saloon bars, jailhouses, railroads and pioneering spirit. Not to mention the small-town bitchiness and rivalry which comprise Chase and Summer’s biggest problems in their new life together.

Willow Creek. A town in need of a bakery.
To use a riding metaphor (which seems appropriate for a book which is joyously stuffed full of riding metaphors), this is a book you need to hitch your wagon to, go where she takes you and enjoy the ride.


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.

Tuesday, 13 March 2018

Millie and the Mill Owner: A Short Story


Here's a short story for you to enjoy while I get round to finishing some of my proper-length books.
It is available as a free PDF here so that you can download it onto your kindle, kobo, phone, tea-kettle or similar. Enjoy!





Millie and the Mill Owner by Etta Stark

It was just before half past five in the morning; Millie pulled her shawl tightly around he shoulders as she stood outside the gates of Northam Mill ready to begin her day’s work.

The other girls who worked at the mill chatted to one another as they waited. As usual, they did not include Millie in their chatter. Millie pretended not to mind. She knew that she did not fit in. She wasn’t one of them. She had the wrong accent. These girls had all grown up together whereas Millie had been raised in a different world, a privileged life with wealthy parents, a good education and all she could wish for. But everything had changed after her father’s death.

Poverty and shame meant that she had to find work quickly doing whatever job she could find. She had been relieved to be taken on by Northam Mills as a weaver. The days were long and the work was difficult and exhausting. Millie could bear the work itself but the attitudes of the other girls was difficult to cope with.

The gates opened and as Millie moved forward with the crowd, someone barged into her from the side causing her to stumble.

“Oh I am sorry, Lady Muck” her assailant said. “Did your diamond shoes trip you up?”

Of course, Millie wasn’t wearing diamond shoes nor anything like it. She wore heavy boots like the rest of the workers. But it didn’t matter; the girls thought her a posh snob and were determined to hate her.

Millie reached her machine and set about cleaning it ready for the day’s work. She noticed that the other girls’ chatter was more animated than usual this morning.

“Did anyone else hear that Lord Northam is coming to inspect the troops today?” a girl called Bet remarked.

“I heard that too. You know he’ll find fault with someone here. He always does.” This response came from Jane whose machine was next to Millie’s.

Bet gave a ribald laugh. “From what I’ve heard maybe I wouldn’t mind his Lordship finding fault with me.”

The girls all laughed much to Millie’s bafflement.  One girl, Molly, didn’t join in the merriment. “You wouldn’t laugh if it had happened to you, I can tell you” she said.

“Aw, Molly,” said Jane. “You still sore about it?” More laughter.

“I was bloody sore for days afterwards, I can tell you!” huffed Molly before returning to clean her machine.

“Why is Lord Northam visiting the mill floor?” asked Millie, her curiosity getting the better of her.

The laughter stopped immediately. Jane turned to Millie with a look of contempt. “Oh I dunno, y’Ladyship. Maybe he heard we had an actual fucking Duchess working on the looms.”

“I’m not a Duchess,” Millie retorted.

“Well, you’re too high and mighty for the likes of us, aren’t you?” Jane then lunged forward and grabbed Millie’s bucket and threw its contents at her machine. Cold, dirty water went everywhere.

Millie was completely dumbstruck for a moment. Only for a moment though. When her voice returned she was furious. “Why the hell did you do that, you stupid bitch?” Millie yelled.

At that very moment the foreman, Mr Weavind came round the corner into their view. He was accompanied by the mill owner, Lord Northam.

Lord Northam was not what Millie had expected at all. For some reason she had imagined the mill owner to be an old man. Yet Lord Northam was clearly no more than five and thirty. He was well-attired with dark hair and a rather forbidding expression. His gaze was immediately fixed on Millie and then turned to her machine which was dripping wet.  “What, may I ask, has happened to your loom?” he asked.

Millie, still furious, replied through gritted teeth “It was sabotaged by one of the other workers, Sir.”
Jane gasped. She clearly hadn’t expected Millie to grass her up. But Millie was too angry to abide by any sense of workers’ solidarity. She was going to lose her job, most likely. She was bloody well going to take Jane with her.

“I see. And did this person have any reason to carry out such an action?”

“No, sir” replied Millie.

“No reason except you’re a lazy stuck-up snob who thinks she’s better than everybody else” spat Jane.

Mr Weavind looked absolutely furious at the unprofessional behaviour his workers were displaying in front of the mill owner. “This is completely unacceptable,” he barked.

Lord Northam held up his hand. “I will deal with this,” he said, calmly. “Both of you will go to my office. Now. Weavind, escort the girls there immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Weavind gruffly.

Jane shot Millie a look of pure venom. There was no doubt that she held Millie entirely responsible for the trouble that she was in. However, Millie’s mood was already so low that Jane’s anger could not sink it any lower.

This was it, she thought. She was going to lose her position. Jobs were not easy to come by in this town. She might not have had any great love for working in the mill but any job was better than none at all.

When they reached the door to the mill office, Weavind told them to stand and wait in silence. He stood with them and made no effort to speak further.

Millie was already trembling in fear; she kept her eyes focused on the floor so that she did not risk having to look at Jane or the foreman.

Ten minutes later, Lord Northam appeared. “You may leave us now, Weavind. I will handle matters from here.”

Millie’s eyes were still firmly fixed on her shoes; she heard Weavind mumble his acquiescence and depart.

“Very well, girls” said Lord Northam. His authoritative tone made Millie look up to meet his eye. “I shall see you, Jane, in my office first. Follow me. Millie, you wait here.”

Millie managed a mumbled “yes, sir” as Lord Northam opened his office door and walked through it, followed by Jane.

She had no intention of eavesdropping but her position just outside the door meant that she had little else to occupy her attention. She heard muffled voices – mostly those of Lord Northam – and then a few minutes later a sound which made her jump with surprise.

It was a loud “thwack!”. Millie had never received any corporal punishment other than the odd pat on an errant backside by her father when she was a child. However, she was no fool. She knew that the sound she had just heard was the beginning of a beating. Some sort of implement was connecting with flesh. Bare flesh.

Moments later, the sound came again. Then again. And again. Over and over the same sound of something colliding with what Millie could only assume was Jane’s exposed bottom. After half a dozen strokes, the sounds of the beating were accompanied by new ones – the shrieks and wails of its unfortunate target. The beating continued. Jane’s evident distress at her punishment clearly wasn’t going to put a stop to it any time soon.

At long last the door opened and a very tearful Jane exited the room. Her eyes were wet and bloodshot and her hands were instinctively clasping her now-covered backside.

“Return to your work immediately, Jane, and do what I have told you” said Lord Northam. “And I trust we will see an improvement in your behaviour going forward.”

Jane nodded and hurried off back to the mill floor. Millie watched her go thinking that however much Jane had hated her before, this was only going to increase following the hard spanking that she had had to endure. And yet she felt a sense of excitement deep in the pit of her belly that she couldn’t readily comprehend.

“In my office now, Millie” said Lord Northam. On entering the room, Millie’s eye was immediately drawn to a thick leather strap lying on the desk. No doubt this was the implement which had been so loudly used on Jane. She could not stop looking at it.

Was she about to receive the same punishment, she thought. She wished that this was the case with a fervour that surprised her. She told herself that this was because being beaten, however harshly, was a hundred times better than finding herself without a job.

Lord Northam sat behind his desk and looked Millie up and down as she stood before it.

“Camilla Leamington, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Any relation to George Leamington?”

“He was my father, sir.”

“I thought as much. George Leamington was once a prosperous and respected man in this town. And yet his daughter is now reduced to working on the machines in my mill? Why is that?”

Millie had no idea why his Lordship was asking such questions of her but she replied honestly.

“There were debts that needed to be paid off, Sir, after his death.”

“Gambling debts?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see” said Lord Northam standing up and coming to the front of the desk. He picked up the leather strap. “Right let’s get on with it. Bend over the desk. Feet on the floor. Hands holding onto the far edge.”

Her heart hammering in her chest, Millie did as she was bid. When she was bent over in position, she felt Lord Northam lift her skirts and fling them over her back. He parted her drawers so that her bottom was fully exposed. She had scarcely time to consider this undignified position before she felt the first smack of leather against her skin.

The pain was incredible. She had never felt anything like it. Tears welled up in her eyes but Millie was determined not to move from her position. She wanted to take her punishment as well as she could. After all, her job depended upon it.

Moments later, the second strike cracked across her flesh. Lord Northam barely paused as he brought the strap down repeatedly on her bottom. As Millie tearfully endured the pain, she became aware of another, rather more baffling, reaction.

She was aware of a warmth suffusing her body. Not just on her bottom which was fast becoming fiery red from the harsh application of the strap. No, the warmth she was embarrassed to discover was somewhere else, somewhere more intimate.

She could feel her breath becoming faster as Lord Northam continued the spanking. She was almost panting. As the blows rained down hard and fast on her tender bottom, she did not move an inch. When his Lordship stopped, he gave a low whistle.

“You took that remarkably well. Have you been beaten like that before?”

“N-no, sir” stammered Millie. She could barely get the words out.

Lord Northam put his hand on Millie’s still-upturned bottom and began rubbing her cheeks. Millie let out an involuntary moan in response. Lord Northam chuckled. “I suppose you are just a natural then. I do believe that you enjoyed that almost as much as I did. You didn’t struggle or cry out at all. A rather unusual response, I must say.”

Millie felt she should rightfully feel embarrassed by his Lordship’s touch and by the words he was speaking to her. But she could not manage to feel shame. Instead she felt longing. She welcomed the feel of Lord Northam’s hand on her sore punished bottom and felt herself raising slightly to meet his touch.

“Oh you wicked girl,” said Lord Northam in a voice that sounded almost affectionate. “You are enjoying this far more than you should.”

Millie gasped as Lord Northam moved his hand so that it was no longer rubbing her buttocks but was instead fondling the soft folds between her thighs. Her most private area. The area that no man should touch until her wedding night.

She was powerless to stop it. This was not because she was cowed or intimidated by her Master. She may have been before the beating but she was not even thinking of such things now. The sensation of his fingers inside her felt so marvellous that she wished he would continue to touch her in this way forever.

“So very, very wet,” said Lord Northam approvingly. He withdrew his fingers and gave Millie a sharp slap on her bottom.

His voice became commanding. “Right, you naughty girl, stand up and adjust your clothing. I believe you and I need to have a talk.”

Millie righted herself from her procumbent position with some difficulty; her body simply did not want to move. Her skirts fell back into place and she smoothed them down while turning to face Lord Northam. Her senses were beginning to return to her and she became aware once again of her surroundings. What on earth had just happened?

“Well Millie, you have certainly made my decision a good deal easier.”

“Sir?”

“You do not belong in your current job. You should not be working on the factory floor.”

Sense and reason returned to Millie in an instant. She was going to lose her job after all. No wonder, she thought, after the behaviour she had displayed. Surely Lord Northam did not want a woman as wanton as her on his payroll.

However, Lord Northam continued. “Tell me, Millie, can you read and write?”

“Yes sir,” replied Millie, slightly baffled by the question.

“Did you go to school?”

“To Rodean, sir.”

Lord Northam smiled. It was a brief smile but it was dazzling. “Perfect. I have a proposition for you. My Clerk has just quit his position and I urgently require someone to fill the role. I see no reason why a woman could not do the job as well as a man. I would like to employ you as my Clerk on a month’s trial basis. The hours would be eight to six with a half day on Saturdays.”

Millie could scarcely believe it. The hours were so much better than the long shifts she currently spent on the looms. When Lord Northam named a wage far in excess of her present one, her spirits soared at the thought of her new job. A job which would take her away from the hatred and taunting of Jane and the other girls on the factory floor.

She managed to find her tongue. “Thank you, your Lordship. That would be most agreeable. I will endeavour to do whatever you require of me.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Lord Northam. “Of course, if you fail to please me, I shall beat you thoroughly. You have already met my junior strap but, believe me, I have a fine collection of straps, canes, whips and tawses that I will not hesitate to use on your bare backside. Is that acceptable to you?”

Millie felt her blood rush to her face. And to her nether regions. “Oh yes, Sir,” she said emphatically. She tried not to smile. She failed.

Lord Northam considered her thoughtfully. “In fact, it occurs to me that I shouldn’t wait for you to displease me in order to punish you. What if you never put a foot wrong? Then I should never have any reason to spank your bottom. I don’t believe that would please either one of us.”

He picked up the strap from the table and slapped it against the palm of his left hand in an almost absent-minded manner.

“I have decided that you are a girl who should be disciplined regularly regardless of your behaviour. We shall consider them Guidance Spankings.”

“Yes, sir. I think that would probably be wise,” said Millie mischievously. She was relieved that she would not have to be bad on purpose to be bent over and spanked by Lord Northam.

“Good. You will start your new role tomorrow morning. Arrive here half an hour early at half past seven. Before you start your clerical duties, I plan to plan to put you over my lap and administer a sound hand spanking to your bare bottom. Then you will bend over the desk and receive a most thorough caning.”

“I will be here at half past seven promptly,” said Millie, excitement rising in her belly.

“I shall look forward to it. As, I am sure, will you.” Lord Northam flashed Millie another of his brilliant smiles. “Don’t bother returning to work today. Take the rest of the day off. I will see you tomorrow morning and not a minute later than agreed.”

“What about my machine?” asked Millie thinking of the thrown bucket and its dripping contents.

“Jane will be instructed to thoroughly clean and dry your old loom,” replied Lord Northam.

Millie bid good day to her Lord and Master with profuse thanks. She exited the huge external gates of Northam Mills as though floating on a cloud. What an extraordinary day this had turned out to be. She had a new job which was eminently more suited to her talents than her old one. And, she thought, there was the other thing… The spanking. She had no idea what had happened there but she knew she felt utterly calm and happy about it. And that she was excited at the thought of experiencing it again.

She smiled a beatific smile and walked home. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, her bottom felt hot and sore and bruised and Millie felt truly happy. She was eager for the new adventures that life had in store for her.





Thursday, 4 June 2015

Domestic Service

This is my 'D' 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.

Violet Plover, the heroine of my first book His Lordship's Apprentice, is a scullery maid at the home of our hero, Lord Hardcastle. She is far older than most scullery maids actually would have been at the end of the nineteenth century. Most girls in service started as children and scullery maid was very much the bottom-most rung in the hierarchy of servants. I had to tweak the story a bit to ensure that she could hold this lowly position while still being old enough to take part in the sort of things required in a spanky erotic romance.

Just your everyday story of  a scullery maid who lucks out to an extraordinary degree.
In 1891, one in three women between the ages of fifteen and twenty were employed in domestic service. Violet had a far better time of it than her real-life counterparts, progressing quickly from scullery maid to parlour maid to onstage magician's assistant to Lord Hardcastle's alter ego "The Marvellous Marvelo". Do things between Violet and her sexy, titled boss progress further still? (Spoiler: Yes. Of course they do.)

The following scene takes place near the beginning the story. Following an unfortunate incident in the dining room involving an escaped dove and a lot of bad language, Violet has been summoned to Lord Hardcastle's study. Nobility such as Lord Hardcastle wouldn't normally be involved in the hiring and firing of lowly domestic staff. Violet has no idea what to expect from this encounter. But, hey, this is a spanky romance. You can probably guess how it's going to pan out.

Lord Hardcastle turned to Violet. “Very well,” he said. “To business. I understand that you have been in my service for two months.” 
“Yes, my Lord” Violet replied. Her nervousness rendered her throat so dry that she could barely speak at all. Was that a sufficient response she wondered? Should one provide more information when addressing a lord or speak as little as possible? She honestly had no idea. Much as she had been warned that Lord Hardcastle was highly irregular compared to other men of his station, she hadn’t imagined that a scullery maid such as herself would have to interact with his Lordship face to face. Certainly not this soon.

Ah well, Violet reasoned, it hardly mattered. She fully expected to be fired without a reference and doubted she would need to interact with the nobility again.

“Well, Violet,” continued Lord Hardcastle, oblivious to Violet’s internal panic. “Firstly, I want to thank you for the swift way you dealt with my escaped dove. I should not have left her on the table like that and it was understandable that you disturbed her. You dealt with the recapture very professionally. I was impressed. She is a trained bird and very valuable. I should have hated to see her injured or upset. Thank you.” 
Violet stared at Lord Hardcastle in shock. This was not what she had anticipated. 
“However,” Lord Hardcastle continued. “There are standards of behaviour – and of course language – we uphold to in this house. I reserve the right to entertain visitors in my own home without them being subjected to the kind of words that would shock a sailor.” 
Violet’s heart sank once more. “I am very sorry, my Lord” she mumbled. 
“I am sure you are,” responded Lord Hardcastle. “I am also sure you are a valuable member of staff here. I have no desire to terminate your employment over this incident. However, you will be punished.” 
“Yes, my Lord.” 
“I’ll offer you the choice, Violet. Either you can forfeit a day’s wages or submit to a spanking.” 
Violet’s head was a confusion of different emotions. While she was elated that she still had a job, she was truly terrified at the prospect of being physically punished by Lord Hardcastle. She knew she didn’t have a choice. She could not afford to lose a day’s wages; her family were relying on her. 
“I will take the spanking, my Lord.”
Domestic servants are usually the bit-players in books. Historical romances normally focus on the lives, loves and, hopefully spankings, of the nobility.

However, there are some great examples of books where the domestic staff get the chance to enjoy sex and/or romance with their employers out there. Below are three of my favourites.

Geneva DeCroix's The Lady's Maid (which annoyingly, now seems to be only available to purchase separately as single chapters rather than the complete book that I bought) follows the story of Jesslina who accepts the post as a Lady's Maid to the wife of Lord Piers. Lord Piers household is a veritable orgy of sex and sexy violence. Everyone fucks and spanks everyone, it seems. The story starts with Jesslina receiving a harsh spanking from Lord Piers, but soon she's watching the male servants being beaten and buggered by the butler and happily administering punishments to the mistress herself. Honestly, they're all at it.

Utter filth. In a good way.
Maren Smith's Angel of Hawkhaven is an altogether more romantic affair. Ella Rayette is down on her luck following the death of her debt-ridden father and forced to work in a tavern where she is rescued from a savage beating from her boss by a mysterious 'angel'. She promptly steals his watch because, hey, a girl's got to get by somehow. Awkwardly, when she procures a new position as lady's maid to a difficult and demanding woman with a severe disability, she discovers that her new boss - the lady's brother  - is none other than her 'angel', Matthew Hawkhaven. It's a wonderful and unexpectedly moving story in which Ella struggles to prove herself in her new position while battling the conflicting feelings she feels towards the Master of the house.

Beautifully written historical romance
And for absolute, adorable romance, look no further than Renee Rose's Pleasing the Colonel. Our heroine Amanda Downy has been employed as a governess to the children of widowed Colonel Watson. As a governess, Amanda is not really one of the servant classes. Nor, of course, is she one of the family. Governesses occupied a sort of limbo between Upstairs and Downstairs. Although the sweet and believably written romance between Amanda and her employer means that she is certainly headed Upstairs. (And that sounded a lot more innuendo-y that I intended it.) This was one of the first books I read by Renee Rose and it is still one of my absolute favourites

"He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a leather strap." Mm.
If  you can recommend any books where domestic servants get to enjoy some sexy, spanky or romantic action, then please let me know in the comments. I do love a historical romance. Real life servants may have had a terrible time of it but, happily, their fictional erotic counterparts get to have a lot more fun.

Tuesday, 15 July 2014

Happy Birthday Emmeline Pankhurst!

I love Google Doodles. There you are just getting on with your day deciding to google 'Node.js libraries' or '1950s wizard spanking' or whatever (depending where you are at the time) and Google furnishes you with a cool little gift that didn't even ask for.


The doodles have all been a bit football-obsessed lately (but then hasn't everybody?) but now that's all done and dusted we could enjoy something a bit more historical and bit more votes-for-womeny - The 156th birthday of Emmeline Pankhurst, political activist and leader of the British suffragette movement.

So happy birthday Mrs Pankhurst! The road to female emancipation has been a long and convoluted one and, internationally, we aren't there yet, but thank you Emmeline Pankhurst you were a huge part of the process of obtaining universal suffrage.

The Suffragist Movement is something that crops up in my last book, Lady Westbrook's Discovery and in my current work in progress which is a sort of sequel. Both are set in the 1870s. The National Society for Women's Suffrage was created in 1868 long before Emmeline Pankhurst began campaigning. It's actually rather sad that for all her enthusiasm, my character Margaret won't be able to enjoy equal voting rights with men until she's 99 years old.

So let's celebrate Emmeline Pankhurst's birthday with a rousing chorus of 'Sister Suffragette' from Mary Poppins which incidentally was my friends and my drinking song of choice as teenagers.

Glynis Johns plays Winifred Banks - a lovely lady but terrible example to all right-thinking feminists everywhere. "Put these things away, you know how The Cause upsets Mr Banks."


And while we're singing, let's appreciate how far we've come and how delighted Mrs Pankhurst would be to see that to our daughters the idea of women having equal rights with men could be summed up with "Well duh! Of course" and to whom the idea of women being second class citizens is entirely laughable.

Yay Emmeline Pankhurst! Yay Equal Rights for Women! Yay Feminism! Yay us!

Sunday, 1 June 2014

A is for Authenticity

This post is part of the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. What's that I hear you ask? Check out my page here for more information.

I write historical fiction. So far everything I have written or am in the process of writing has been set during the reign of Queen Victoria. It’s a period of history that has always fascinated me. I think because I consider it the most recent point of history that was still properly ‘Olden Times’. The clothes, the technology are all so far removed from our own and yet they were just teetering on the brink of it. Mere decades away from flappers showing off their knees with total abandon.

Of course, writing historical fiction requires a fair bit of research. You might feel inspired writing about your ruff-wearing Victorian computer programmer and his love of hunting woolly mammoths but you are going to feel pretty silly once the reviews come in.

This totally did happen though.
How much historical authenticity is required when writing fiction? One of the reasons I prefer historical settings in the spanking fiction that I both read and write, is the opportunities for women to be spanked without their consent without the implications that this would raise in a modern day setting.  There’s something delightful in reading a spanking scene which is played entirely for disciplinary purposes even if the ultimate motivation is to turn the readers on.

It’s difficult to gauge exactly how much spanking went on at the end of the nineteenth century. Clearly, it wasn’t something that most people would have talked about or mentioned in letters.  The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine (edited by the husband of household management guru, Mrs Beeton ) famously had an ongoing correspondence in its letters page regarding the advisability and methods of correcting adult women. How much of this reflects the disciplinary protocols of the time and how much were the imaginative fantasies of Victorian spankos, it’s hard to tell. Though there was definitely quite of a lot of the latter.

But that’s fine. If I’m reading spanking fiction, I want everybody to get spanked and everybody to consider it normal. That’s what I’m there for. In April Hill’s brilliant book “A Glitch in Time”,  the time travelling heroine gets spanked by King Arthur,  Wild Bill Hickock, a seventeenth century pirate and a Roman gladiator. And if that isn’t the way things would have panned out, then I don’t want to hear about it.

One of the aspects of authenticity in historical fiction to consider is that of language. There needs to be a balance struck here. I am not going to write my books as though they would have been written at the time. I am writing for modern audiences. Admittedly it would be fairly easy to understand something written in the style in a late 19th century novel. The job’s harder for people setting their stories further back in history.  Anyone writing a book set in the 14th century would need to write like Chaucer.  “He priketh harde and depe” might be more authentic but would probably be harder to masturbate to.

On the other hand, if you make your characters sound too modern, you’ll going to kill the mood entirely. Lady Poshington can’t very well sweep into the drawing room exclaiming “OMG! The Fotherington ball was, like, well awesome, y’know?”

My plan is usually to write down however the characters speak in my head and hope that there aren’t too many glaring errors. I think my only hard and fast rule is “Don’t use the word ‘OK’”

As you may have guessed, I’m not going to make too many claims for the authenticity of my books. I hope they sound reasonable authentic for the time in which they are set but I am not doing the levels of research that Hilary Mantel put into Wolf Hall.

 There’s a  TV series called ‘The Tudors’ about the reign of Henry VIII. I think the writers have cheerfully decided that, short of allowing their characters to carry around iPhones, anything goes. Historians complained about Henry VIII wearing costumes from the later Elizabethan era and travelling around in Victorian carriages.
There were also complaints that Jonathan Rhys Meyers wasn’t “bloated” enough.
Interestingly leading historian Dr Tracy Borden’s had this to say about it: "I was determined to loathe the series, with its unfeasibly beautiful actors, dodgy costumes and improbable storylines, but found myself becoming strangely addicted. The scriptwriters may have taken liberties with the facts, but they have also succeeded in re-creating the drama and atmosphere of Henry VIII's court, with its intrigues, scandals and betrayals."

Which demonstrates that maybe it’s OK to overlook a few historical details, if your story’s good enough.

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