"The Final Straw" A Short Story

In a few week's time , I shall be attending Smut Manchester which is described on their website as "an Erotica Authors & Readers Smutty Social Get-Together" It's terribly exciting. Every word in that description describes me to a tee. I'm smutty! I'm social! I'm an erotic writer AND an erotic reader. Clearly, it's time for me to go forth and meet my people.

My people are kinky people, obvs

Part of the getting-together socialness of the event, is a 'Flash Challenge' which is a writing competition (and not a competitive flashing event as you might have supposed).

Entrants are required to write a 1000 word story using the photograph below of the Manchester Wheel as inspiration. The top three entries will be read out by the authors at the event which is fairly terrifying prospect.

My entry which is titled "The Final Straw" is below. 

Let me know what you think in the comments. And give me a shout if you're planning to come to Smut Manchester on the 15th. It is of course where the very best smutty, social, erotic, got-together people will be.

The Final Straw

She squinted  slightly and pulled a disappointed face. “It’s not very big is it?”

“What?”

“The wheel. It’s much smaller than the London Eye. Seems a bit daft to come up here and then go on a sub-standard wheel.”

Joel let out a long exasperated breath. “You don’t want to go on it then?”

Katy shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

“Whatever. I’m not going on it with you if you’re going to spend the whole time comparing it unfavourably with your London one.”

“Our London one. You live in London too.”

“Yeah but Manchester’s where I grew up. That was the point of us doing this trip together. But all you’ve done is put the place down. Manchester bars aren’t as good as London bars. The Manchester Museum isn’t as good as the British Museum.  I’ve had enough of it. I’m going back to the hotel.”

Joel strode off, not too bothered if Katy followed him or not.  She caught up with him and walked with him back to the hotel. When they got back to their room, Joel  grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge and stared moodily out the window at Piccadilly Gardens and the wheel.

“What do you want to do?” asked Katy.

Joel shrugged. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to bend Katy over his knee and spank her ungrateful little arse. She’d done nothing but snip and complain since they’d arrived in Manchester.

He had never spanked Katy. Never spanked anyone, in fact, but it was something that he thought about a lot. In great Technicolor detail.

He looked over at his girlfriend. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. Shame about the bad-tempered look she was wearing. Yet she’d submissively followed him back here without a word. She now seemed to be awaiting his instructions. His cock stirred at the thought of it. Why, he wondered, didn’t he just spank her? Maybe that was what she’d been angling for with her bratty behaviour. It was certainly what she deserved.

He set down his beer and sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” he commanded.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to give you a damn good spanking.”

“You’re going to spank me because I wouldn’t go on the wheel?” Katy asked incredulously.

“No, I am going to spank you because you've behaved like a spoilt brat since we got here. The wheel was just the final straw. Now, get over my knee. This will do us both good.”

A tiny, significant second ticked by. Everything hinged on her reaction. She could tell him go to hell. Or storm out. She could, quite feasibly laugh in his face,

But she didn’t do those things. Wonderfully, amazingly, she walked over to where Joel was sitting, her eyes focused on the floor, and laid herself awkwardly over his lap.

He pushed her skirt up to her waist and yanked her knickers to her knees.

“Are you going to use your belt on me, Joel?” Katy asked quietly.

Joel’s cock stiffened at her words. She was so up for this. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

He spanked her hard and fast covering every inch of her from her waist to the top of her thighs. Her shapely arse changed colour from cream to the hottest hot pink.

Katy let out gasps and squeaks of protest every time Joel’s hand made contact with her flesh. Even though she was wriggling deliciously over his lap, Joel sensed that she wasn't moving as much as she wanted to. She was trying her hardest to be compliant. To submit.

He stopped spanking and admired the warm fiery glow of Katy’s bottom. He wasn’t through with her yet.  Loath as he was to move her from her delightful position, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of a swing with his belt with her across his knees.

“Up you get,” he said brusquely and Katy jumped to her feet. “Over the bed, face down. You’re going to get whipped with my belt.”

Katy hesitated. “Didn’t I behave well enough during the spanking?”

“You behaved beautifully.” Joel reassured her. “That’s why you’re only going to get three swats with the belt. If you hadn't, it would have been much more. Although I'm going to add more strokes if you don’t lie down on the bed right this instant.”

Katy complied immediately.

He brought the belt down across her buttocks three times in swift succession. Then threw his belt to the floor and admired the three bright red lines running horizontally across Katy’s bottom. He didn’t think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

He climbed onto the bed and slipped his fingers between her legs feeling the inviting wetness of her delicious pussy.

“You enjoyed that didn’t you?” he whispered.

Katy didn’t look up. She nodded her head which was still buried in the duvet.

“Oh sweetheart, we are going to have so much fun with it,” he said softly, unbuttoning his jeans and releasing his stiff engorged cock. He entered her swiftly from behind, pounding into her to the sounds of her pleasure. She was already so close to orgasm he realised, He wondered if he could make her come just from spanking her alone? He'd like to try.

They lay together afterwards -  a sweaty, sticky, happy mess. “You were right,” she said. “That did do me good. Thank you.”

“You’re entirely welcome. We’re going to be doing it a lot more.” He smacked her reddened backside for emphasis.

“Shall we go on the Manchester Eye, now?” asked Katy, her eyes shining.

“I didn’t think you wanted to?”

“I’m growing fonder of the idea.”  There was a wicked glint in her eye. “You know, if I say anything unkind about it, you can always take me to task afterwards.”

Joel grinned. He rather hoped she would find something unkind to say about it. “Come on then sweetheart. We have some sightseeing to do.”

Saturday Spankings - “I think that’s enough of a warm-up”

Saturday Spank Time!

Last week, I shared with you a quick excerpt from my forthcoming Corbin's Bend book, East End Girl. It was a pre-spanking scene, really. A few swiftly delivered swats which we all knew were going to lead to a proper spanking. And sure enough, soon afterwards, Kirsty finds herself over Logan's knee.

Kirsty wriggled deliciously on his lap. She was clearly as ready for this as he was. 

He applied a volley of light spanks to her backside by way of a warm-up. Kirsty twisted back to look at him and Logan was amused to see a look of disappointment on her face. Did she really think this was as hard as he was going to spank her? Oh Kirsty, he thought, you have absolutely no idea. 

“I think that’s enough of a warm-up,” he said quietly and pulled her panties down to where her jeans were bunched above her knees. “Time to start this spanking properly.”

Corbin's Bend 2: Electric Booglaloo

East End Girl will be part of Corbin's Bend Season 2. Right now, you can pre-buy all nine books (including mine!) and nab yourself a fantastic 33% saving! The books will be automatically delivered to your Blushing Books account as they are released. You will be right at the front of the queue. It will be like when we used to go and queue up at midnight to get the new Harry Potter book. Only far more convenient.

Corbin's Bend are also being being part of a Thunderclap at the moment. I am a little fuzzy about Thunderclap but am given to understand that it's a terribly exciting Social Networking thingummy that "helps people be heard by saying something together." One hundred people need to sign up for it to work. Come on! We can do it! 'Yes Scotland' got 627% on their Thunderclap and loads more people are interested in Corbin's Bend than Scottish devolution, surely?

Click on the link here and become a part of it. Once we hit our goal, then as Peter Postlethwaite said in James and the Giant Peach: "Marvellous things will happen."

Which may or may not involve giant insects.

Check out the rest of today's Saturday Spankers by clicking on the list below.

Summer Spanks - Old School Discipline

End of Summer Spannks

Note: This competition is now closed.

Summer's over. It's official, It must be because this is the End of Summer Spanks and if seasons aren't officially observed through spanky bloghops, they jolly well should be.

I am insanely excited to be involved in this bloghop. Partly because it gives me the chance to share my 'Back to School' spanking story with my lovely readers. But mostly because I get to reveal the most awesome prize that's ever been offered anywhere by anyone to anyone.

Guaranteed.

Prepare yourselves. Perhaps find a comfortable seat and some smelling salts. Because, today, you have the opportunity to become the owner of your very own Etta Stark Mug!

Oh yes. This little beauty could be yours to use however you see fit. You can use it for your favourite morning beverage such as tea, coffee or vodka martini. Or to store pencils. Or toothbrushes. Or maybe give it to the gentleman in your life for use as a penis beaker.

Just add penis

Whatever you choose to do with it, I can assure you that your life will be immeasurably improved by having an Etta Stark mug in it. "How can I win this wondrous object?" I hear you ask in that melodic - yet slightly demanding - voice of yours. Well, I'll tell you.

To win the prize, simply enter your email address where it says 'Sign Up for Occasional Awesome Emails' at the top right of this page and click 'submit'.

Then I can drop you  the occasional email when something really exciting happens such as releasing a new book or I discover the true meaning of life or... no, that's probably it. I won;t email you about anything else. I don't want to take advantage of your good natures.

I'll be in touch after the Summer Spanks weekend and let you know if you are the lucky winner.

And if you aren't lucky enough to win The Most Awesome Mug In The Whole World TM (and even if you are, come to think of it), there are a whole host of Wonderful and Amazing Summer Spanks prizes being given away by Spanking Romance including Amazon gift certificates, an e-reader and a handmade paddle. To be in with a chance of winning one of these great prizes, please leave a comment on this post. 

Remember to check out the linky list at the bottom of this post and visit all the other lovely bloggers who are participating in the bloghop.

Below is my Summer Spanks story. You can also download it is as PDF if you want to pop it on your kindle and read it later at your leisure.

Old School Discipline

Philippa Montgomery stood at the impressive oak door at the entrance to the Old Building at St Neots Academy and banged the brass knocker. She was trying to suppress any first day nerves but it wasn’t easy. This was it. The dream job. The one she had wanted since she’d qualified as a teacher.

Above the entrance was the school motto: “Poenam amplio moribus.” Punishment improves character. It made Philippa smile. St Neots had a long, proud history of administering corporal punishment and the motto must have been incredibly apt when the school was founded five hundred years ago but now that corporal punishment in school had been outlawed for several decades it seemed a little outdated. She couldn’t imagine that St Neots would change it though. Tradition is important.

The door was opened by Peter Waldegrave, Head of History and Philippa’s new boss. She hadn’t seen him since her job interview and was she hoped that she might find him slightly less intimidating than she did then.

It was hard not to be intimidated by the man. She found herself going dry at the mouth as she looked up at him. He was at least 6’4” with black hair, ice-blue eyes and a slightly forbidding expression his chiselled face that made Philippa want to either run away or reach up and stroke his cheekbones. Fortunately, she did neither.

“Philippa, good to see you. The Porter let me know you were on your way over. Did you have a good journey?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr Waldegrave.”

A shadow of a smile passed over his face. “Please. Call me Peter. I’ll take your bag for you.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question and Philippa automatically allowed Peter to take her suitcase from her.

He strode across the impressive entrance hall and headed to the huge open staircase. She trotted after him. “Thank you so much for agreeing to let me move in so far ahead of the start of term,” she said. “I only got back from Dubai two days ago. It’s so much easier being able to come straight here than having to find somewhere to live for the next five weeks before the start of term.”

“It’s no problem at all. I am here all summer anyway. I’m writing the History of St Neots Academy as you know so it makes sense to be in situ while I write it.”

“It sounds a fascinating project. I’ll try not to disturb your work.”

He looked back over his shoulder; his eyes flickered over her briefly. “I am sure you won’t” he said. “There’s some staff in residence over in the New Building all summer but over here, it will be just us two for the next three weeks.”

Referring to the main school building as ‘The New Building’ was a tradition which had been in place for the last two hundred years. It was constructed in the early nineteenth century and could only be considered new in comparison to the rest of the school buildings.

At the first floor landing, Peter pushed open a door which led to a corridor. “Make sure you pull the door shut behind you,” he said. “Otherwise it will bang.” Philippa pulled the door and followed Peter down the corridor. He opened another door which led to dormitories and Philippa had only followed a few steps before he stopped and turned to face her. “The door, Philippa.” he said simply.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” said Philippa rushing back to close the door properly.

“This will be your room,” he said when they reached a small self contained set of rooms near to one of the girls dormitories.  “I presume you are well acquainted with the layout of the school and its grounds.”

“Well, yes.  I used to go here, you know.”

“I do know. You were here for the very first year female students were accepted into the sixth form. You are an important part of the school’s history.”

“It was a privilege to come here. The reception we got wasn’t entirely positive at the time, of course. There were plenty of people who thought that St Neots should remain boys only. And now the school is completely co-educational. I liked to think we female sixth-formers paved the way for that.”

“Indeed. You and your fellow students were groundbreakers. I was taught here too, as a boy. Clearly there’s something about St Neots that draws its former pupils back. Feel free to wander around wherever you like and get your bearings.  I must warn you the kitchens are unstaffed and pretty empty at this time of year. However, I have what passes for a kitchenette in my rooms. You would be welcome to join me for dinner this evening.”

“Oh... um... yes, that would be delightful. Thank you.” She felt herself become flustered again by her gorgeous intimidating boss. He wasn’t asking you out on a date, you know, she scolded herself.

“I will see you at seven then. St Dunstan’s wing. I need to get back to work.”

With that he removed himself from her room and Philippa was left to her own devices. It was truly marvellous to be back at the old place. She loved St Neots with its imposing buildings and centuries of tradition. Getting a job here as a history teacher was a dream come true.

Wanting to reacquaint herself with the old place, she headed to the Old Building library. It wasn’t the biggest library at the school but it was certainly the most interesting for a historian. It was in the oldest part of the building, its shelves of antiquarian books reached up to the ceiling and on its far wall were portraits of many of the school’s illustrious Head Masters. Each one looking stern and intimidating in his mortar board and gown,

Glass cases inside the library contained  numerous artefacts relating the school’s history. Philippa had spent plenty of time here as a student and was immediately drawn to her favourite case.

The tall glass case contained a leather bound ledger, opened to a date in 1780 and headed ‘Punishment Book’. There was also a birch and several canes. Philippa recognised the objects like old friends. She dreaded to think how many hours she had probably spent staring at this display as a student. Corporal punishment had been abolished before Philippa had attended the school but the subject had fascinated her for as long as she could remember.

 She noticed to her surprise that the lock which normally held it closed was open. She tentatively pushed it and the glass panel swung open. She took a deep breath and almost reverently picked up one of the rattan canes. She felt a shiver go through her as she held the historic artefact.

The sound of a throat being cleared behind her startled her from her reverie. She jumped and quickly replaced the cane in the cabinet before turning to face Peter shamefacedly.

“It is not permissible to remove objects from the display cases,” Peter said sternly.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I suspect that your professional inquisitiveness got the better of you,” said Peter, the corner of his mouth turning up into what was almost a smile.

He strode forward and stood beside her at the display case. “So what do you know of that object?” he asked.

Feeling like she was being quizzed on her specialist subject, Philippa replied, “That particular cane belonged to Sebastian Clutton who was Head Master here in the early nineteenth century. A man with a remarkable enthusiasm for bestowing corporal punishment, even by the high standards set in this place. The punishment book there was also his.”

Peter nodded. “Very good. As you know, he meticulously recorded the details of each and every one of the hundreds of beatings he meted out to his pupils. I have had the privilege of studying his diaries for my book, you know. He kept meticulous notes there as well. And it turns out that he didn’t just punish students. He was an enthusiastic deliverer of physical punishments to all the female staff as well. Disciplining schoolboys was a duty. Disciplining maidservants was clearly something of a hobby.”

Philippa’s eyes widened. “He wrote about it?” she asked.

“At great length. There was one maid in particular, Molly Beaton, whose punishments get the most florid descriptions.  He spanked her on her very first day for bringing his shaving water up late and continued to spank her on a regular basis for the rest of his time as Head Master. Given that she was in her sixties and Clutton in his eighties by the time he took retirement, I don’t think she objected too strongly to his methods of discipline.”

Peter’s  ice-blue eyes were watching her intently. Did he have any idea, she wondered, how very turned on he was making her? The first time he’d said the word ‘spank’ she’d almost had to stifle a moan.

“Come with me, Philippa,” he said, briskly. “I want to show you something.”

He took her to through to the history classrooms. Philippa looked around her hardly daring to believe that she would soon be teaching in these very classrooms.

“There’s a store cupboard here that you might find elucidating. Given your apparent area of interest.”

He unlocked the door to a large cupboard and turned on the light. There was an abundance of items inside from school trophies to framed maps and old-fashioned school desks with ink holders. 

“What with my interest in the school’s history, I have a tendency to hoard. I thought those might of interest to you.” He nodded towards the wall and Philippa followed his gaze.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

Hanging on the wall, each from its own individual peg were four school canes.

“Not as old as the ones in the library, admittedly. But you are allowed to pick these ones up.”

Philippa couldn’t resist she reached up and unhooked the nearest cane from its peg. Examining the smooth rattan cane, she wondered about its history. How many recalcitrant backsides had been caned by this object?

“How old are these ones?” she asked.

“Hard to tell. It’s not like there were distinctive fashions in canes over the years. Relatively recent I’d say. 1960s or 1970s most likely. Caning was still regularly carried out then.”

“Was there caning when you were a pupil here?”

Peter smiled. It was probably the first full smile she’d seen on him. He should do it more often she thought. He was good-looking beforehand. When he smiled, he was breathtaking.

“Ah well, I am an important part of St Neots history too in that regard. I have the dubious honour of being the last boy ever caned at this school.”

Philippa laughed. “Is that something to be proud of or ashamed of, I wonder?”

“A little of both I think.”

“What did you do?”

“I smuggled a young lady from the nearby girls’ school into my study in the middle of the night.”

“What for?”

He let out a short bark of laughter. “I was seventeen years old. If you can’t imagine what the young lady and I intended to get up to then you may need to work on your deductive reasoning.”

“Oh.” Philippa blushed and then blushed still further as she tried to formulate her next question. “And the girl, did she get caned too?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “No. It wouldn’t have been likely anyway. But after we were caught, we decided to represent her as the poor innocent misguided soul who was led astray by my wicked ways. It seemed the best way of avoiding us both getting in trouble over it.”

“What a gentleman you were.”

Another laugh. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”

“Did it hurt? The caning, I mean?”

“Of course. That was the point. But it was preferable to expulsion.”

“Do you think corporal punishment should be reinstated?” she asked.

Peter shook his head. “God no, I think we’re better off without it, don’t you? Although,” he continued thoughtfully. “I think there is one exception I would like to make to that.”

He was looking at her in such a way that it turned her insides to mush.

“What’s that?” she said quietly.

“I think I could support Sebastian Clutton’s policy of administering corporal punishment to the female staff. What do you think? Do you think the occasional sound spanking would help you do your job better?”

“I... I...” Philippa spluttered. His words had lit a fire directly within in her. She was so turned on by his last question that she could barely formulate a sentence. “I’m not a maidservant!” she spluttered out and then cursed herself. Might he take that as a ‘no’?

“No, obviously, you’re not a maidservant. You’re a history teacher. There weren’t any female teachers in Clutton’s day; if there had been, perhaps he would have taken great delight in punishing them too. As your line manager at St Neots, it falls into my remit to deal with you over any disciplinary matters. Do you know why I came down to the library earlier?”

“No,” said Philippa.

“After expressly telling you to shut the doors properly earlier, you managed to leave not just one but both of them ajar after you left your room. I found it impossible to work with the doors banging and came down to tell you of it.”

Embarrassment flooded her face. What an idiot she was. She had completely forgotten what he had told her about the doors. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled.

“Well what with that and touching historic artefacts without permission, I believe you have a punishment coming. Do you agree?”

Philippa stared at the tall, gorgeous, domineering man in front of her and, terrified as she was, felt like all her Christmases had come at once.

“Yes,” she said hoarsely.

“Hand me the cane, Philippa.” he said.

She did as instructed. He held the cane in his right hand and swished it through the air. He then took hold of Philippa’s arm and led her gently to one of the desks in the classroom.

“Are you ready for your caning?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Bend over the desk.”

 Philippa complied. She was wearing a formal black skirt with a white shirt and high heels. This was her first day in her new job after all. She had wanted to look smart.

Peter took her skirt and lifted it up above her hips and then pushed her knickers to the side slipping his finger inside of her.

Philippa was surprised by his action but didn’t object. It felt good to have him touch her there, even though she was so wet it was almost embarrassing. She was practically dripping onto her shoes.

Peter chucked. “Good girl. I see you’re very ready indeed.” He withdrew his finger and walked over to a neighbouring desk from where he pulled out a chair. Seating himself he patted his lap. “Over my lap, Philippa. I think a warm-up spanking would be in order first.”

“A warm-up spanking?” she asked cheekily. “Is that historically accurate?”

“No. Think of it as a concession to the caring, compassionate twenty-first century. I’m all heart like that. Now get over my lap.”

She placed herself carefully across his thighs and then shrieked as he pulled her forwards, tipping her so that her hands were on the floor and her bottom was raised high in the air. He pushed her skirt out of the way and yanked her knickers down to her knees.

Then he spanked her bottom. Hard. She tried not to wriggle as the firm had swats rained down on her bottom, but it was difficult. She resisted the urge to shield her bottom with her hands. This had been her number one sexual fantasy for the last goodness knows how many years. She couldn’t believe it was finally happening. She also couldn’t believe how much it hurt.

After Peter had successfully turned her bottom into a furnace he stood her up in front of him. “Right that’s the warm up done. Time for your caning.”

Philippa panicked slightly at that. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. But she didn’t want him to stop. Peter led her to the desk and bent her over it. Her skirt was still round her waist and her backside was once again exposed to his view.

“Just four strokes, I think, as you are new to this,” he said.

Philippa wondered briefly how new he was and then the first cut of the cane vanquished any thoughts from her mind.

She yelled out at the sudden rush of pain in her backside.  She heard the second stroke of the cane whistling through the air as it came down. Once more her backside exploded in pain. The third stoke hit her lower down on her backside, its sting making tears spring to Philippa’s eyes despite her best efforts to stop them.

“Last one,” said Peter. “You’re doing well.”

“The last stroke of the cane came down on the very lowest part of her buttocks where her cheeks met her thighs. Philippa screamed out at the pain and gripped the desk tightly. Even once he had stopped, the pain in her backside was overwhelming. She was sore beyond all her expectations and, god, she was more turned on than she had ever been in her life. Peter pulled up her panties with a jerk and the touch of the cotton against her pussy was almost more that Philippa could bear. She felt like she was seconds away from reaching orgasm.

“You took your punishment admirably,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you ... sir.” she said, still bent over the desk.

Peter laughed. “ I like you calling me ‘sir’” he said. “Up you get now.”

She did. Her face was scarlet, her hair was all over the place and her cheeks were streaked with tears. And yet Philippa had never felt more sexy or more wanton than she did right now.

If Peter felt the same way, however,  he wasn’t giving anything away.

“Right,” he said briskly. “I need to get back to work. Are you still coming to my rooms for dinner at seven?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” He began to walk off.

“Aren’t you going to put that back in the store cupboard?” asked Philippa looking at the cane that Peter was still holding.

He laughed. “Oh no. This is coming up to my rooms with me. I have a feeling that I am going to find plenty more opportunities to use it.”

Book Review – The Gardener by Rachel de Vine

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.

Ridiculously hot.

Five Stars!

On a scale of ‘mildly pleasant’ to ‘need to stop everything and enjoy an immediate bit of Me Time’, Rachel de Vine’s The Gardener totally delivers at the ‘me time’ end of the scale. This book is ridiculously hot. 

Not in a graphic x-rated explicit way, you understand,  just in a ‘fulfils my every fantasy’ way. I could barely get through a chapter without coming over all hot and bothered and in need of some kind of relief. I’d advise against reading on public transport for that reason. Bus drivers frown on that sort of thing. (It makes the seats sticky.) It’s also probably best to avoid thinking about the book while operating heavy machinery as well - just to be on the safe side.

The gardener from the book’s title is Will Barnes who works for the heroine Kate Winters’ aunt and uncle. We can see what an irresistibly sexy charmer he is from the first scene in the book which involves  Kate spying on Barnes through the bushes as he enjoys a 19^th century style ‘Diet Coke’ moment. She knows her surreptitious stalking has not been as been discreet as she hoped when he tells her: “You can come out now, Miss. Your aunt has left.” I fell in love with him at that point, I reckon. Even before he asked Kate whether she liked what she saw and threatened her with a spanking for fibbing. Although that helped too, obviously.

This sort of thing. But 200 years ago.

I have no idea where Barnes trained to become a servant but, frankly, the man hasn’t got a clue. He clearly has no time at all for the traditional rules for servants like ‘never beginning a conversation with one’s employers nor ever expressing an opinion’. Instead he favours starting multiple conversations with the master of the house’s niece, making  flirty suggestive comments, being caught swimming naked in the grounds, spanking her naked backside and giving her several  earth-shattering orgasms.

Personally, as an approach to service, I’m all for it.

Not on Barnes's bookshelf.

Unfortunately, well-brought up ladies of the nineteenth century can’t just going running off with one of the servants no matter how good looking, well-muscled and prone to flipping you over their laps for a spanking they are. Poor Kate has no choice but to go along with her Aunt and Uncle’s plans to find her a suitable husband, regardless of her growing feelings for Barnes.

It would have been nice if the heroine was just a bit less passive with regards to her situation, to be honest. She never comes across as master of her own destiny, relying on instruction and help from other people and the occasional bit of startling good fortune. It’s the ‘Cinderella’ approach to finding your happy ever after.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more the Cinderella comparison totally holds up for this book. All the characters are here. We have Cinderella (Kate), the wicked stepmother (her Aunt Miranda], the fairy godmother (friend and neighbour, Lady Fitzwilliam) and the handsome-ish prince (the Earl of Beechdale who becomes Kate’s husband).

There’s even a role for Barnes the gardener if you include  Buttons,  the pantomime charcater who works as a servant for Cinderella’s father and is completely in love with Cinderella. (Note to our American readership: pantomimes are theatre productions put on in every theatre in the UK around Christmas time. They combine minor celebrities, thinly veiled penis jokes, song and dance numbers and men dressed – hilariously – as women. It’s odd but it’s necessary.)

I always want Cinderella to marry Buttons instead of the prince because he’s funny and nice and usually played by a more famous celebrity than the prince. But, of course, Cinderella goes off with the prince and poor Buttons is forever friendzoned.

Back in the kitchen with you, Buttons

The Gardener is the retelling of Cinderella where Buttons (eventually) gets the girl. Of course, the pantomimes I’ve seen haven’t included scenes where Cinderella and Buttons give one another hand jobs in the potting shed but maybe they would if Rachel de Vine wrote them.

The secret assignations between Kate and Barnes are all as hot as hell and given the nature of the story, almost all their interactions have to be secret assignations. Rachel de Vine masterfully constructs a believable relationship between the two of them both in terms of their physical relationship and their emotional attachment to one another.  Every time the heroes met it was hotter, lovelier and usually more heart-breaking than the last time.

This is the second book I’ve read by Rachel de Vine - the first was One Wife, Three Husbands. Much as I enjoyed that one, The Gardener knocks it out of the water both in terms of storytelling and in creating a delicious near-perfect hero in Will Barnes. He really does have a way about him, you know. I can’t wait to read whatever Rachel de Vine writes next. Meanwhile, I think I might give The Gardener a re-read.

If you need me, I’ll be in my bunk.

Edited to add: This book has been republished under Rachel De Vine's other writing name Juliette Banks. It is available as part of the "Historical Heroes" box set. It is still ridiculously hot and you should still check it out.

Book Review - The Coach's Discipline by Katherine Deane

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.

First rule of Running Club. Nobody talks about Running Club.

     
  Five Stars!

The Coach's Discipline is an utterly lovely spanking story which tells the story of runner Claire Jacobs. It is set in a world of competitive off-road running, fitness coaching and Olympic tryouts which on the face of it, is not my cup of tea all. Cups of tea are my cups of tea.  Marathon training is something else entirely.

It turns out that my lack of interest in sport really wasn’t an impediment at all to my enjoying this book. Which is a relief because I am so not into sport. Not even slightly. I am always a bit baffled by how much people get into it to be honest. Not so much the doing of it – I appreciate that there’s endorphins, senses of achievement and self-worth, increased life-expectancy – you know if you’re into that sort of nonsense.

I don’t understand why people want to watch other people do it though. Not something I’ve felt the inclination to do, to be honest. The Olympics happened round these parts a couple of years ago and I managed to miss it entirely despite the fact that bits of it were happening a stone’s throw from where I’m sitting now. (Not a literal stone’s throw. Not if I were throwing, anyway. If we’d had stone-throwing teams at school, I would have been picked last.)

It did strike me before I started reading that a fitness trainer was very much the perfect guy for a BDSM-ish spanking book. Doms and personal trainers tick all the same boxes. They demand obedience; they push people as far as they can go while remaining conscious of their limits and they cause pain. Lots and lots of pain.

Also, there's this sort of thing.

Based, presumably on my horrific experience with PE teachers, I was expecting Claire’s coach, Nick Fox to be something of a monster. Turns out he’s actually a total sweetie. I mean sure he’s  all about barking commands, and enforcing discipline but his absolute devotion  to the girls in his running squad and especially towards Claire is so touching that I found myself wanting to reach into my Kindle and give him a  big hug.

I really love the author's writing style, particularly the way she handles the switches between Claire’s and Nick’s points of view. While Nick handles his and Claire’s relationship – both personal and professional - with a calm alpha authority which is a hot as hell, it’s lovely to hear his thought processes behind it including his own doubts and vulnerabilities.

They are such a cute couple.  Their banter is just adorable, particularly when Claire teases her man, although she usually has to pay the price for that. You know what I should include in these reviews? Some kind of spankings to things-that-aren’t-spankings ratio. Maybe like those traffic light food labels.

Some kind of kinky version of this.

That way you’d know at a glance if it was a straightforward romance with a couple of playful taps or one massive non-stop spankfest with no room for characterisation or plot development.

I don’t know how many spanking scenes there were in the book. There were a pretty good number and the spankings/things-that-aren’t-spankings ratio was absolutely perfect. There was a real heartfelt story here with Claire’s personal journey at the heart of it. There were some great secondary characters including the other girls form the running squad, Claire’s best friend Jenny and a mysterious guy called Oz who I’m hoping is going to get a book of his own at some point. Meanwhile, Katherine Deane includes lots of opportunities for Nick to bend Claire over something and give her the spanking she needs.

Claire’s not the easiest of girlfriends; she has lot of personal baggage including an emotionally abusive mother and a history of bulimia. Sometimes she needs encouragement, sometimes she needs discipline and sometimes she just needs someone to hold her and remind her to breathe. Nick is absolutely the perfect man to do that.

And while a lot of the sportsing references went sailing over my head, I did appreciate the book’s many references to movies - including quite a few with spanking-related themes. I love films. What I lack in any kind of fitness regime, I more than make up for with my ability to sit in a darkened room watching stuff. I want to give some kind of award for including a reference to the Castle Anthrax scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Nice to know that I probably wasn’t the only person who had a couple of jokey throwaway  lines from a comedy film seared permanently into their brain after watching that.

"You must tie her down on a bed and spank her. You must spank her well, and after you are done with her, you may deal with her as you like... and then... spank me."

 "And me. And me too. And me."

 "Yes. Yes, you must give us all a good spanking. And after the spanking... the oral sex."

This is Katherine Deane’s first solo book and she has certainly hit the ground running*. I am really, really looking forward to whatever she writes next. It’s not that often that you encounter a book which had you laughing out loud one minute, blinking back the tears the next and then becoming incredibly hot and bothered by the sexy, sexy descriptions of two lovely people getting to know one another in the best possible way** a minute or so after that. Katherine Deane delivers all that and more, here.

She sounds pretty knowledgeable about the sports side of things too which will probably make it even more enjoyable if you’re actually into that sort of thing.

Although, to be honest, I’m not sure I could have enjoyed this book more than I did. It was just about perfect.

* Hahahahahahahaha! Hit the ground running! I didn’t even do that on purpose! I’m like some kind of punning genius!

** For the avoidance of doubt, the best possible way is spanking, obviously. Sex comes second.