Something to Hang by the Fire

It's been a weird year. It feels like it's been an unbelievably long year and in many ways I don't feel like the same person that started it out.

A major change this year is that I finally upgraded to a smartphone. This sounds like a strange thing to single out in this year of emotions and events and lots of very not so good things. But I'm realizing more and more that it has changed my every day life. And it also scares me how much I have come to rely on it and how much it knows about me! Why does it know things about me?? It's scary.

Anyway, aside from never being lost ever again (for the directionally challenged, GPS on my phone is literally the best thing ever), I can now check my email 4,000 times a day.

A fun fact: there is no reason why you should ever need to check your email this much. Another fact: I never get important emails. 

I have about four email addresses that I use frequently. The one linked up to my phone is my main, real name, the one I don't give out to email lists, way to get in touch with me. Currently, I am stuck in a group email with extended family about the best date to get together for Christmas at my grandmother's. I'm mostly staying out of it and pretending I haven't checked my email 4,000 and one times today. I'm going to see how it all shakes out and then plan my illness accordingly. 

It wasn't until the smartphone and the easy accessibility to this email that I realized at one point in time I made an error in judgment and gave Frederick's of Hollywood my main email address. Not really a big deal. I could unsubscribe. 

But I haven't because I am completely enthralled by just how many emails they send in one day. And how many sales they have! So many sales!

I mean, I am a huge supporter of purchasing lingerie. My love of shopping kind of died when I became an adult and had actual bills to pay, I no longer get a thrill out of buying new clothes. Instead, occasionally, I am forced to buy new yoga pants because all of the ones I own have random holes in them and aren't even safe to wear when bringing out the trash.  

But cute underwear? I'll buy that all day long. Especially on sale!

I get an average of three emails a day from Frederick's of Hollywood. I know, right? It should be annoying. I should be forced right into the unsubscribe territory. But instead, it kind of delights me. 

All of them have such urgency. TIME IS RUNNING OUT

Oh, man. Time is running out, what am I missing?

BIGGEST SALE OF THE YEAR!

Is it though?

One of my favorites, marketed toward the gentlemen:

Get Her The BIGGEST Gift

Obviously, yeah, you should do that. Of course, my curiosity was piqued so I opened it. Did you know a giftcard is always the right size? Clever.

Anyway, it's become a running joke in my house and part of my everyday. My phone will buzz and blink and make some weird noise (I still have no idea how to set my sounds and tones). 

"Oh my god, babe, I just got a super important email."

My husband looks up from his laptop.

"Cyber Monday is back!"

He's started responding to me with subject lines of Victoria's Secret emails that inundate his inbox. 

So our typical dinner conversation has turned into,

Me: Your 48 hours of savings is almost up. What are you doing right now??

Him: Oh, sorry, I was shopping for gifts for my naughty and nice list!

I have been shopping for stocking stuffers. It is the one tradition that stands, Mr. McKay gets a stocking full of lingerie. But I don't fall into the trap of thinking my time is limited on this sale. The only thing that is limited is the amount of time you have to purchase that lace trimmed thong in a large in Prism Violet, because they never have a large in the color I want! Okay, sometimes they do, but I'm telling you, don't wait too long. Today it's 50% off, tomorrow it might only be 30% off with a free shipping code (sometimes the better deal if you ask me).

TIME IS RUNNING OUT

(It really isn't, but it's nice to feel like I have something urgent going on.)

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Romance for the Soul #lovewins

Hello, friends! I've been silent longer than I meant to. Not for any particular reason. In fact, I had good intentions of completing a blog post almost daily. I even have a couple of saved drafts of bits of things that flew through my brain that never got fully fleshed out saved in my queue.

But here I am, not to share anything groundbreaking or life changing or breathtaking. Just to say hi and to tell you that I did something today I have not done in a really long time. I got so wrapped up in reading a book I could not put it down and spent three hours laying on my couch, absently stroking the purring kitty in my lap, letting my coffee go cold in its mug while I raced through the pages and read on to completion.

It was not my intention. Today is my day off from the day job that enslaves most of my waking hours. I had a mental list of things to complete. Menial tasks and greater more important things like writing more of the book I am authoring myself (hence the lack of blogging).

It got me to thinking. I started writing a few years ago because of my love of reading. I can tear through books at a clip. I love everything about reading. The escape from reality. Meeting people and visiting places I would not otherwise have the chance to experience. Sure, they're fictional. Or fictionalized versions of real people and real places. I stray toward romance and happy endings. But since I have started writing I have read less and less. And sometimes it takes a lot for me to get into a book, to even have the energy to read until the end of the story.

Sometimes this has nothing at all to do with the books I am reading or how they are written. I just can't shut off my own mind long enough to enjoy something. Above all I have guilt that something I am doing for sheer pleasure is taking up the time I should be using to do something else. Like writing. 

I haven't abandoned reading. I have good intentions. My Kindle is loaded with books that I purchased that I intended to read "one day." Once in a while I scroll through them, trying to figure out which one I will try to read in guilty little snippets while I'm supposed to be doing something else.

This week I dove into this stock pile. I needed something to occupy my mind. I promise, this isn't a post about politics, I've tucked myself into a turtle shell trying to shelter myself from anything political in the last few days. But, I'm also having a hard time writing this and not mentioning politics at all. 

You don't need to know my political views (although, I am sure they are leaking out in what I'm writing in this post) and we don't even need to agree on any issues at all for you to read my blog and this post in particular and take something from it. I'm just merely painting a picture of events of my week.

My spirits have dipped. My otherwise sunny outlook and bright optimism in the face of any situation has been tested. I'm tired of thinking about things. About this world and politics and the future. I hate feeling hopeless and defeated.

So I thought, what should I do? I'm going to go back to that tried and true pastime that I've been ignoring and brushing off as unimportant for too long. I'm going to find myself a book and I'm going to exist on another plane for awhile.

I scrolled through my collection of books that I found worthy enough to download but had not yet been cracked open. I stopped on one. Looking at the cover, reading the author's name, an author I had never read. And trying to remember why I purchased it.

Craving Flight by Tamsen Parker. I read through the blurb again, remembering that one of my friends, who I trust in all matters of book suggestions, told me to read this one. To be honest I thought I was going to begin reading and it wasn't going to hold my interest or meet my expectations or bring me to the appropriate levels of distractedness that I needed. I dove in fully thinking I would end up being too despondent and depressed in my own mind to get fully absorbed. 

And then I timidly dipped my toe in the opening chapter. I met the two main characters. A total of eight lines of dialogue were exchanged between them. It takes place at a deli counter between Elan, the butcher, and Tzipporah, the college professor.  But it didn't, it all played out in my living room as I laid on my couch with my sleeping cat, wrapped in a cozy blanket on a gorgeous autumn morning. 

I was tempted to say I had wasted my morning. I whiled away about 3 and 1/2 hours of time I meant to spend doing other things. I came away feeling refreshed. Even hopeful. How could that be wasted time?

I went to the gym on Wednesday even though I had gotten a total of four hours of sleep the night before and had worked a full day. Why? Because I mentally needed it. Yes, exercise is good for the body. But it helped my soul. It was a terrible workout, but I felt better when it was done. 

Reading is important too. Getting lost in a good book, even when we're neglecting our to-do lists and life obligations. I'm going to stop thinking of reading as something I should not be doing. A guilty pleasure that achieves nothing. I should be reading. We should all be reading. We should all be taking care of our minds and our souls.

So I'm starting a new to-do list. I'm going to be kind. I'm going to be thoughtful. I'm not going to lose the hopefulness that was always ever-present inside of me. 

Because love will always win and I don't think anyone's politics can change that. 

I'd be grateful for some book suggestions. Have you read a book lately that might help me escape for a bit?

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Crying~It's Not for the Faint of Heart

I'm an emotional person. I don't know if I cry more than the average person, but I think I tend to cry at inopportune moments. 

This past week one of these inopportune moments occurred at my job. My day job has been stressful and frustrating lately. There have been staff changes, schedule changes—pretty much every day I go in I am faced with a long day of chaos. At the end of one of these particularly long days I ended up getting into a spirited discussion with my new boss. 

Feelings of frustration, exasperation that I wasn't being heard, and anger at the patronizing tone and bullshit excuses that were being thrown my way all accumulated. I had a brief vision of telling my boss exactly where he could stick his job and giving my fellow co-workers a one-fingered salute as I dashed for the exit. The daydream was satisfying.

The reality is I like having health insurance coverage.

So I pushed the anger down and plunged back into reality to have a very uncomfortable confrontation in a workplace environment. Except, the feelings were all still there. I had crunched them all down, but they were dying to get out. So my eyes started to water. I felt it and ignored it.

Blink. Blink.

And then my bottom lip did this quivering thing. 

I bit on it and trapped it between my teeth. 

But not before my boss saw it. 

He gave me a horrified look—oh no, crying female. "Don't get upset."

This comment heaped on top of the patronizing tone only made things worse. "I'm not upset," I forced out in a measured and even voice. I took a deep breath and a second to center myself. I wished I could have explained to him that I literally had rage leaking out of my eyeballs. That, no, he didn't make me cry. I made myself cry by deciding not to fly off the handle. I wouldn't let the anger out, so it converted itself into something else and tried to slip out some other way.

Of course, I didn't explain this, but I did take the opportunity of him being thrown off balance by the "almost tears" for a few moments to speak my piece. 

Upon reflection, I thought of all of the other inappropriate moments where I shed a few tears during the course of my life. Because that's what I do, when something in my life happens I get a recurring slide show of every other little thing in my life that went wrong or embarrassed me. 

My reflection on these situations made me realize that crying gets a bad rap. It's looked on as a weakness and mostly a very feminine thing. If you're crying about something you obviously can't handle it. You're a basket case and no one wants to listen to you.

Thankfully, I married a man who doesn't discount me when I'm being emotional about something. If I'm worked up and crying, I think he listens more carefully. He won't write me off, he'll ask me what's going on. It wasn't always like that. I think I did have to prove to him that I can have a rational conversation about something while I'm crying, sometimes I just can't control it. And if I can't be myself with my one true love then what is the point of anything?

Some moments that I have shed a few tears that maybe were not ideal:

The night I lost my virginity.

Technically it wasn't even at night. It was midafternoon. And it happened to be with my now husband. I'm not sure why I cried. It didn't hurt, although I think I scared the shit out of him and he thought he mortally wounded me. There was so much build up to this one moment in time. And then it happened. I loved this man so much. I still do and I did even before we had sex. But something about it just wrenched my emotions out of me and I wound up crying as I laid in his bed.

I couldn't explain all of that at the moment. And I am sure I'm romanticizing a lot of it. But there was so much love and emotion welled up inside of me that I wept openly. Probably not what any guy wants to experience, but it was an honest reaction.

Our wedding night.

Again, not really the usual reaction that a girl has to marriage. It wasn't like a replay of the night I lost my virginity because we didn't even have sex that night. It had been a whirlwind of a week. Emotions ran high. Lots of money was shelled out. We made it to the finish line. I was a little drunk, my ribs were bruised (perhaps broken) from the torture device I wore under my gown. I was exhausted. I was happy. I was overwhelmed. 

I was crying next to my husband of ten hours in a hotel room bed at 3am. 

This was a huge milestone in my life. One I planned for and dreamed of for a long time. And it was over. Now what?

"Now we're married," the ever practical Mr. McKay replied in the dark to his weeping wife beside him.

"But, it's over, what do we do now?"

"Go to sleep."

He was right. I slept and life went on. Sometimes I think I get so overwhelmed by the next step and just life in general that I don't know how to process it.

Playing roller derby.

I know what you're thinking, "Of course you cried during roller derby, you broke your ankle in three places last year." I didn't cry when I broke my ankle. It didn't even hurt until the next day. I did cry when they told me it was broken and I realized I was going to miss most of the season, but I don't think that's a very unusual thing, plenty of people would cry about that.

This season I am back and I've hit a good stride. I went from inexperienced newbie, never getting rostered for any games, to someone who is playing in all of the games. A team, B team, I've played in a lot of games this season and enjoyed the hell out of every single one of them. 

My first A team game was in August. We drove five hours to get there. We left our husbands and wives behind, our kids and our jobs, and we took a crazy road trip. We were playing a team that outranked us. We were tired, but we were using everything we've been working on this season. When the whistle blew at the end of the first half I followed my teammates into the locker room and I was swamped with emotion. 

At this time last year, I was broken. At this time last year, my team was not playing like this. We'd all worked really hard in one year to get where we were and I was so proud. My eyes misted over as we filed into the locker room.

"Are you crying?" a concerned teammate asked me.

"No," I lied, as a tear escaped and ran down my cheek. "I just love you guys so much. I love playing with you."

"Oh, man, she's crying!"

"I'm not!" I was.

"Now I'm crying," more than one person echoed.

There were lots of sweaty group hugs. And we played even harder the second half, we barely lost and we over-played everyone's expectations—even our own.

Other things that make me cry: kittens, really good endings to books, sports documentaries I watch with my husband...

The list could go on. But the thing is I laugh a lot too. I smile a lot. It's really easy to be my friend, just be nice to me and we're good. I don't want to paint the picture that I am some kind of sobbing lunatic all the time. 

My emotions are always bubbling at the surface and I have a hard time hiding them. But my point is, crying gets a bad wrap. Not every person who cries is weak. Sometimes people are just trying to control themselves from hip checking you into the wall. 

The next time you cry, don't apologize for it. And the next time someone cries in front of you, ask them why they're crying. Their answer might surprise you. 

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Collared by Rayanna Jamison~ A Naughty Sub Put in Her Place

I'm sharing a hot scene from Rayanna Jamison's new book Collared. If you haven't purchased it yet, then why wait any longer?

Here's a taste of what to expect:

“You need to remember your place,” he scolded, punctuating each word with a hard swat to her denim clad cheeks. “And, I am going to help you with that.”
With that settled, he let go of her arm. “Stay in position.” Reaching around her, with both hands, he found the button of her shorts, and released it, deftly sliding the shorts down to her ankles, and her panties with them.
She whimpered, softly, a guttural groan in the back of her throat. She knew that whatever came next would not be good, but she stayed in position. 
“Put your feet apart, and grab your ankles.”
Pax stood back, watching as she followed his instructions, bringing her bits into full view. She had been waxed last week, and the results were something he would never tire of seeing.
She peered at him, glaring up from the space between her legs. Her expression seemed to challenge him. “What now?” she seemed to be saying.
“Patience, my little sub,” he purred, moving closer to her, so that she was back within arm’s reach, watching her face soften at his expression. Calling a sub, “sub” always seemed to hit that button, and he enjoyed watching them melt right before he claimed them.
He slapped her ass, watching with satisfaction as the skin bounced and reddened under the impact of his hand. 
“Who’s in charge here, little sub?” he growled, nearly panting through his controlled arousal. He would play with her, and teach her a lesson, but there would be no sexual release for either of them. They were at her father’s house for God’s sake.
“You are, Sir” she squealed, as he pressed against her tightly puckered opening. Her face was flushed and she was biting her lip, as she tried to give up control, fighting her instinct to move away from his prodding fingers. He smiled to himself, recognizing the signs. She had never been touched here before. 
“My little sub seems to be an anal virgin,” he teased, growing hard himself as he pushed his index finger past her tight virgin barrier.  
“Yes, sir!” she squeaked out. “And I was hoping to keep it that way!”
Shaking his head, he chuckled deeply at her hesitancy. “That’s not going to happen, pet. I own all of you, and I will punish all of you. There is no quicker way to remind a naughty sub of her place than by claiming her naughty bottom hole.”
He pumped his finger in and out slowly, watching as she struggled to hold position against this new violation. She was uncomfortable, sure, and sorry for her misstep, which was kind of the point, but her glistening pussy told the story the rest of her would never tell. She was horny as fuck. She didn’t want to be turned on with a finger in her ass—they never did, but she was.

“Naughty subs get their bottoms punished often, pet. Anal punishments are a powerful tool in my arsenal, as you will soon learn. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, and will train your naughty little hole to take more and more each time, and someday, you will take my cock here, and you will scream as I fuck your naughty little ass. It will happen, my pet. There’s no avoiding it. That day will come.”

Diamond Barrett has spent the last four years hiding in plain sight, working as a show girl in Las Vegas, trying to forget the painful memories of her mother's untimely death. When the details of the gruesome accident finally surface on the morning of her 25th birthday, Diamond's pain leads her to a series of bad choices that result in the loss of her job. 
Now what?
Paxton Donovan's very presence exudes dominance and captures the attention of everyone around him. He has spent years creating his brand as a business owner and professional dominant. There is no time for anything that interferes with the order with which he runs his business and life. Structure, order, rules, discipline. Business without pleasure. No distractions.

But nothing could have prepared Pax for Diamond as their two worlds collide and both of their perfectly ordered and quiet lives combust. Will their undeniable attraction and intense passion be worth the risk of pain and heartache as they shatter their safe lives?

Get it today:
Amazon
Amazon UK

Blushing Books

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Shame Gardening and a "Punishment" Spanking

Mr. McKay and I live in a townhouse (he likes to say- "This is our Tiny House," when I watch Tiny House Nation on HGTV), our neighbors are close because we share walls with them.

We try our best to be friendly. I don't need to be friends with all of them, but it's nice to say hi to the people you share a porch with. Or to know that someone will let you borrow their snow shovel to dig your car out if yours happens to break during a blizzard.

A new neighbor moved in next door to us in the beginning of the summer. She has been dubbed "the weird dog lady." I know we shouldn't talk. We can easily be the weird cat people. But, she's weird. 

She's nice enough, and we have worked up to getting her to say hi. Before she would act like she didn't see us and then dart back into her house. Or wait in her car until we passed by before she got out to walk to her door. Maybe she was sizing us up. Now, she does say hello to us, but it always has a theme. She either mentions our cats, which she sees in our big front picture window, or she says something about the landscaping crew that comes once a week.

She likes to garden. Now mind you, we live in townhouses, each of us has a tiny little 2'x4' patch of dirt in front of the front window that has shrubs in it. Our community has a housing association and they send out a landscaping crew. We still aren't clear—after 7 years of living here—if it is our responsibility to weed this little plot of land, or their's.

Some people plant a few flowers in there, the lawn crew seems to leave them all alone. The most we ever do is Mr. McKay will buy new mulch every spring to throw under the shrubs and cover up the weeds that are growing there. We also have some flowers growing in a tiny sliver of dirt beside our back deck. 

I am not a gardener. I don't enjoy any part of it. Dirt. Bugs. Sweat. It's not my cup of tea. We never had neighbors that did much to the outside of their house. And now this lady moves in and she's making our half-assed mulching look sad compared to her vast garden.

I don't really care if people look and judge. I have been making myself nervous that she is going to report us to the housing association for out of control weeds or dead flowers. You do not want the housing association on your back. They leave letters in your door and threaten to fine you. We have had notices about our back porch light (the globe around the bulb was cracked), ivy growing on the front of our house, and an old picnic table that our landlords left here that the association thought looked "rickety." Well, it was rickety, but it also wasn't ours. 

So we have these flowers out back. And they all died. My mother in law mentioned that if we cut the heads off they would re-bloom. They also kind of spread and started growing in the cracks of our deck and I kept saying we should do something about that. (Really hoping Mr. McKay was going to take the hint because he likes doing garden-y things more than me.)

The flowers before they died. Picture this mess but dead and brown.

I built up the paranoia in my mind and was convinced that weird dog lady was going to report our lazy gardening skills to the housing association. This weekend the weather was beautiful, it was mild and sunny. So I ventured out back. Ten minutes into my foray in gardening I had tiny cuts in my hands, I kept screeching when a bug flew in my face, and despite the cool breeze I was sweating. But I was barely halfway through and couldn't abandon the project because then it would look really obvious I had started to make an effort and decided against it. 

Forty-five minutes later all of the dead flowers had been removed. Weeds had been pulled up and things looked tidier. Whether or not the flowers would re-bloom was yet to be determined, but I had dirt under my nails and grass in my flip flops so I was done.

Meanwhile, the night before we had a late dinner. When it comes to dinner we have unspoken roles that we've never discussed. Mr. McKay normally cooks (he likes to, I hate it) and then I will pack up leftovers and clean up. I am not a night person and we ended up eating so late that I was almost immediately falling asleep on the couch. 

Dinner never got packed away.

At 8am I discovered the leftovers still out in the kitchen. I packed them up, wondering if I was going to kill us both with food poisoning in doing so—it was chicken. After stowing them in the fridge I left for work and had second thoughts about saving the leftovers, even though it kills me to throw food away.

So I texted Mr. McKay, he works from home and usually has whatever we had for dinner the night before for lunch. I warned him that the leftovers were probably no good and we should toss them. His reply? "I'll deal with you later."

Yum! Yes, please! (Am I not supposed to be that eager?)

I nearly forgot about this threat (or promise, really). 

Until I was back inside the house after my foray in gardening. I took a shower to wash the outside off of me and I came out of the bathroom in a puff of steam, my wet hair dripping down my back. Mr. McKay trailed behind me, following me into our bedroom. As I slipped on fresh panties and rifled through the laundry basket for a shirt, he snagged me by the waist. 

"Gardening makes you grumpy," he observed as he kissed me.

I agreed. 

"I can fix that."

Before I asked him how he intended to fix my mood, he stood up and pulled my panties down. He pushed me forward until my thighs hit the bed and I was forced to bend over. Now I am all about an impromptu spanking, but I wasn't exactly in the right mood. For one, I WAS grumpy, I was also tired. I kind of felt like napping, not like getting my freak on.

But I am sure I am not the only person in the world who has a partner whose kinks don't exactly line up with mine. I feel like it took a long time for me to convince him that spanking me whenever was fine. He didn't have to ask. We didn't have to talk about it. He didn't have to wait for me to request it. So I wasn't about to undo all of this progress by complaining I was tired and putting a halt to everything.

So I went with it. And it hurt at first. A lot. He was only using his hand, but I wriggled around and said 'ow' a lot and wondered why I liked this to begin this. Do I like this? 

Then I took a few deep breaths and settled into it and stopped thinking so much. And he didn't stop. But a flip switched somewhere and instead of it hurting and instead of being tired, I was arching my back and opening my legs. He'd smack and then caress and reach down between my thighs. Now things were on the right track.

Next he picked up the Magic Wand. He turned it on and placed it under me so it was sandwiched between my clit and the bed. Then he got the flogger. Much lighter than his hand, but enough to reignite the sting that was already there.

It all got to be too much, I started arching off the bed so I could move away from the vibrations. But every time I did, Mr. McKay put a firm hand on my lower back and pushed me back down.

The flogger, the control, the vibrator. It was all too much. I was either going to die or come until my brain exploded. Well, my brain didn't exactly explode. But things got fuzzy.

He pulled me up onto the bed and kissed and caressed until I regained use of my limbs. Things progressed and we made an afternoon of it, until we finally had to come up for air because our growling stomachs could no longer be ignored.

As I staggered from the bed to again find my underwear and some clean clothes, Mr. McKay pulled me close and whispered, "That'll teach you."

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The McKay's Summer Vacation

A trend that has involuntarily occurred since the beginning of our marriage is that we've never gone on vacation. We've had "staycations" which normally involve fun things like organizing closets. We've had weekend getaways, which most of the time isn't worth the fuss of packing and traveling, you're right back home before you know it. And lately, the new thing is going on trips that are all derby related. I'm not complaining about that, I love that my husband loves the sport I'm obsessed with, but they aren't really vacations.

This summer, we promised to take a trip down south to visit my inlaw's new house. They built a house to retire in, even though they are still living up here for now. So their gorgeous house snugged up against a golf course has become their vacation home for the time being. 

We went for six days and it was delightful. I never realized how important it was to get away for a bit. It also made me realize that you can take Mr. McKay and I out of our element, but that doesn't change us in the least. 

We were walking through an antique store with my mother in law—only it wasn't really an antique store, it was new stuff made to look old that gets sold to rich people. Anyway, for whatever reason there were giant bird cages in there. Mr. McKay made some comment to the effect of, "Casey doesn't like these." Gesturing at the assortment of cages. I thought he was referencing my fear of birds.

His mother ambled away browsing around and he tugged me toward an oversized cage that was probably about four feet high.

"What kind of bird would you put in there?" I asked. I realized it was probably just for decorative purposes, but I was having a hard time even visualizing what one would do with a four-foot tall bird cage.

"You could fit in there," he said. Then leaned in closer. "I could lock you up, it'd be kinky."

I whipped my head around to check the proximity of his mother and then punched him in the arm. He never fails to be amused by my talk of BDSM likes and dislikes. I've read books where submissives are locked in cages, and I get that it is a thing people like. I just don't think I ever would want that in real life. I brought this up to Mr. McKay one day. Not that I think he would ever ask to lock me in a cage, but just putting it out there that I'm not okay with it. 

He had so many questions. What was I reading? Where was this cage and how did this get brought up in the story? Now he just likes to tease me with this bit of information at inopportune moments, like say, when we're antiquing with his mother. 

Antique stores have a lot of weird things in them. It makes you wonder why people save certain things and why they think other people will want to buy the crap they held on to. 

Aside from antiquing, it was too hot to do anything of note except lay inside the air conditioning all day and then go out to dinner. So we mostly laid around, drank and watched the Olympics. Then went to dinner and drank some more. It was the perfect vacation!

There were a few things I learned:

1. Air mattresses are not meant for long term sleeping arrangements and will make you feel like you are 80 when you get up in the morning. 

2. The Olympics make me cry, from the little touching stories they put together of the Olympians, to an underdog winning gold, to the medal ceremonies. I teared up too many times to count.

3. I like grits. And shrimp and grits are my new favorite thing!

4. Doing nothing on vacation away from home is far more relaxing than doing nothing in your own house.

5. I can map out an entire book on a nine hour car ride home. I think I remembered most of it too!

Anyone do anything fun this summer? The season is rapidly drawing to close. I like the fall and everything but it always makes a little sad to see the summer come to an end.

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A Spanking to Heat Things Up!~ Constance Masters Visits!

This is definitely next on my summer reading list! I love the way Constance Masters writes and the set up for this book sounds like a comedy caper reminiscent of the old classic movies I like to watch. And then also, there's spanking, the best of all worlds :)



Trickery by Constance Masters

Blurb:
Morgan King is a 23 year old virgin who has never had a proper boyfriend. The fussy young woman longs to meet a man everything like the heroes in the spanking romance novels she loves to read. When such a man comes along, Morgan is sure that he must be too good to be true and balks at actually meeting him.

Jackson Brooks is a 29 year old middle school teacher who works summers at his family’s summer camp. When he gets to know Morgan on an online dating site, he is sure she’s the girl for him. They are both ready to settle down and he doesn’t understand why she is so hesitant to meet him in person. His confusion deepens when he finds out she has sent him a fake photo; he is not happy. With his job as director of the summer camp looming, he decides to give the elusive Morgan some  space.


Morgan is devastated when she realizes she has probably blown things with Jackson. The desperate young woman hatches a plan to get to know him secretly. She pretends to be her own mother and books herself into Sunnyvale Summer Camp under the name of Alyssa King, using her sister’s birth certificate. What will happen when Jackson finds out?

Excerpt:

Jackson stood and walked around to her side of the desk. “Stand up.”

“What are you doing?” Morgan’s eyes were wide with disbelief but she did as he asked. 

“Bend over the desk.” He moved his things out of the way and stood back while she bent over. “Stay there.”

“What are you going to do? You can’t really mean to spank me, not here. Someone will hear you!” Morgan shifted nervously, her fingers automatically tugging at the frayed hem of her shorts. 

“They won’t because you will not make a sound. You are going to take what you have coming to you and you are going to be completely silent. Not one little whimper because you know you deserve every single lick.” Jackson was angry and he had to decide what to do but there was no way he could even think straight until he’d metered out at least some punishment. It was nothing compared to what he wanted to do but he had to bear in mind there were kids on the property and for the most part he had to concentrate on them. This bottom warming would have to be quick and sharp.

“But I?” Morgan squirmed uncomfortably.

“The only butt I’m interested in is the one I’m about to punish. Stay in that position and wait.” He was surprised that she did as he told her. Jackson locked his office door and walked through to his adjoining sleeping quarters to find something to spank her with. He needed something with maximum sting and yet whisper quiet. He had to remember that as far as the other councillors knew, he was holed up in here with a teenage girl. If they heard any kind of slap they could call the police and both of them could end up in jail. He took a belt out of his closet, folded it and cracked it across his palm. The sting was considerable but it was not noiseless. Could he use a rubber flip-flop? Nope, the slapping sound was distinctive and quite loud. Finally he grabbed the tilt wand from the blinds and flicked it across his hand. Perfect. It packed a good sting and was completely silent. 

When he walked back into the office he was pleased to see that Morgan hadn’t moved. That was something. So her name was Morgan King. At least he could put a name, face and very soon, smacked bottom to the person he’d been talking to, at last. 

“What’s that?” Morgan asked, her head shooting around and her jaw dropping with shock when she saw what he was holding. 

“Bend back over.” He pressed her down slightly and pulled at her light shorts until they were buried within her crease. This left a pleasing amount of her naked butt cheeks on show. 

“I’m scared,” Morgan whimpered into her arm. 

“Good, you deserve to be scared.”

“I’m sorry Jackson, I really am.”

Jackson had to steel himself. “I’m going to spank your sassy, dishonest behind hard with this, plastic whatever it is, because you have put both of us at risk of being in terrible trouble with the law. You haven’t even had a criminal record check. My brother and sister in-law could lose their business. All because you didn’t think about anyone but yourself.”

“And I’m not a criminal!” 

“I didn’t say you were but it is against the law to work wth kids without the proper checks.”

“I just wanted to get to know you.” Morgan was crying and he hadn’t even smacked her yet.

“There were better ways than this to get to know me.”

“I can see that now!”

“Hush,” he whispered.

Jackson raised his hand and brought the fiery little stick down hard across both plump cheeks. He would have loved for the first time he spanked this woman to have been with his hand. He wanted nothing more than to feel those soft cheeks ripple beneath his bare hand. He so wanted to hear the satisfying clap of flesh meeting flesh. He brought his chosen gadget down again, a little lower than the first pink line. 

“Please Jackson,” Morgan begged quietly. “It hurts.”

“It’s not supposed to tickle Morgan. Honestly, you are so lucky that I can’t give you exactly what you deserve or you would be getting a thorough hand spanking followed by a few licks of my belt.”

“I’ll do anything you want if you stop, please.”

The whippy little plastic rod danced up and down her soft white flesh and she was dancing on her toes to ease the sting. “Keep still Alyssa,” he whispered. “You know you deserve this.”

“But it burns—and my name is Morgan.”

“Good, I hope it keeps on burning Morgan.” He hoisted her up by a handful of shorts and made sure he covered the area that usually remained hidden in the crease. He didn’t want the effects of this spanking to wear off too soon. Finally he put the wand down on the desk and pulled her shorts back into place to cover her bottom. She looked adorable; both hands were rubbing her sore bottom while she stood there with her messy hair and her tear stained cheeks looking completely contrite. He wanted nothing more than to hug her and kiss away her tears. 

“That hurt.”

“I hope so honey.” He pulled her against him for their first ever, real hug and he had to admit, it felt good to hold Morgan in his arms, if only it was under better circumstances. “Enough, I need to figure out what to do next.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Good question and when I decide I’ll let you know.”

“Fine, don't let me interrupt your thoughts on what I am going to be doing.”

“Hush Morgan, I need to decide quickly what to do about this,” Jackson said. “Whitney is going to be expecting me to have you removed.”

“Oh well we have to do what makes Whitney happy.”

“What do you mean happy? This isn’t about making Whitney happy it’s about Whitney knowing what the rules are and expecting me to follow them.”

“Does she even know what was in the bag?”

“No, I asked her to bring it to me. Councillors don’t have the authority to search bags.” He was starting to realize that they were the only two that knew about any of this.

“This is about me. At least I should have a bit of a say about what we do next.”

“Deciding what’s the right thing for everyone though isn’t easy and I’m the adult here.”

“I am an adult.”

“And you have demonstrated that so well.”

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Author Bio: 

Constance Masters is a wife, mother, grandmother, friend and author.

She writes romantic spanking fiction with the main emphasis on romance.

Constance has always been a sucker for reading romance and that reflects in her writing but she also likes to laugh. Her stories are full of love, laughter and family comedy. It's a lot like her life.

Where can you find Constance?

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Bad Math and Cheating Death~ Happy Birthday to Me!

Today happens to be my birthday. Really though, it's a Wednesday, and as you're reading this I am slaving away at my day job when I would much rather be in comfy clothes, lounging on the couch with a cat or two. 

I turn 34 today. Which is actually pretty exciting because I think somewhere around January I had prematurely aged myself and stopped thinking I was 33 and thought I was already 34. So one day last week I was thinking about how I was turning 35 this year and getting very depressed (because 35 sounds important, at 35 you can be president, by 35 you should have done things with your life). But then I did some math, some actual math where I had to remember what year we were in and then subtracted my year of birth—it was all way more complicated than it should have been because a person should know how old they actually are!

It's all cleared up now. 34. For an entire year! I added a whole year to my life and pretty much cheated death (or I'm just so bad at math I can't remember how old I am).

This year has been a struggle in a lot of different ways. I've been feeling less like myself lately. Nothing tragic, I just haven't been feeling like going out and being a little social butterfly.

This past weekend we were going to a party at a friend's house. We were going to see friends we hadn't seen in a while who I really really wanted to see. But I just couldn't get myself into the socializing mood. 

I was wearing a cute little sundress (because the past week has felt like we are living on the surface of the sun) and I decided to put on cuter panties. I mean, that's normal, right? Doesn't everyone change their panties when they feel like they need a little lift in their mood?

I put on a lacy red thong to match my red dress and as I walked past Mr. McKay, I flashed him. He followed me into the kitchen and proceeded to lift up the back of my dress as I bent over to get some beer out of the fridge. I was trying to get some cans out of a case of beer we had bought so I could bring them to the party we were going to. Mr. McKay used this moment to spank my ass. But apparently I am not just bad at math, but also science and knowing how gravity works because I opened the side of the box and they all started rolling out at me.

I'm hunched over, trying to catch beer cans before they drop on my feet or hit the floor and explode and Mr. McKay continues smacking my bare ass.

"Stop!" I yelled, catching a few more cans as the tumbled out of the fridge.

"No." He's calm as can be, like we're not about to have exploding beer cans all over the floor.

"I'm fucking this up!" I catch two more and shove them on a lower shelf before preparing to catch the next three. My frustration level heightens as he smacks me harder and I jerk forward.

"Yeah. You are." The last and the hardest smack comes before he bends over me and stands the box on its end, rescuing the last of the beer. 

Not sure why I didn't think to do that.

We were going to be late if we kept up our shenanigans, but we did make out like a couple of teenagers while he cupped my hot ass in his hands. This only serves as further reminder that I need to get a curtain for our kitchen window, you never know who could be out back!

One last thing. In honor of my birthday, I want to give you all a gift, all of my KU books are free until Sunday. If you've already read them, tell a friend!

Here's a link to my author page! Happy Reading :)

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Flogging Fantastic! #sextoys

You know you are doing something right with your life when you get an email offering you a free sex toy.

The UK based company Bondage Bunnies emailed me to see if I would give an honest review in exchange for something from their site. Being an author, I know all about trying to get reviews, so of course I would help. It's work after all ;)

The nice woman who contacted me asked if I had a preference for what I would be receiving. I told her to surprise me, which immediately after hitting send on that email I started to have second thoughts. Who tells someone to surprise them when talking about sex toys? What if she sent me something completely out of my comfort zone?

The term "whip" had been thrown around and now I had images in my head of some harsh and scary single tailed whip that I wouldn't be able to tolerate. I told all of this to Mr. McKay and he just smiled at me. It was a disconcerting smile, I feared what that smile meant!

The thing is, we don't have a very extensive implement collection. Or I should say, we don't own many implements that we use. I have come to realize I might be a bit of a baby when it comes to spanking, or maybe it doesn't happen enough, but anything too harsh and I can't hack it. Most of the time it's just Mr. McKay's hand, and that is all I need (don't discount the harshness of that).

So when I got this in the mail I was equal parts excited and terrified:

It's silky smooth, soft leather tickles through your fingers, but I was worried about the impact. And it makes this whooshing noise when you swing it that is a little worrisome. I mean, I didn't think it was going to maim me, but I thought there was a distinct possibility I was going to hate every part of it.

I was pleasantly surprised! I came to find out that the flogger by itself on my back and ass was kind of relaxing. Without anything else going on, it made me want to close my eyes and drift off. (A warning: don't almost fall asleep during sexy times, it's frowned upon.)

After that, I got to feel what the flogger felt like on a freshly spanked ass. When your skin is already hot and stinging this definitely amps up the heat! Not to unbearable levels, but the ends of the tendrils leave a bit of a sting. 

My favorite part was that you can use this flogger on other areas. Lying on my back I got a little nervous when Mr. McKay aimed at my nipples, but again, I was surprised in a good way. The ends of the tendrils left enough of a bite to get me even more aroused, but it wasn't so much that I was flinching and turning away. 

I'm saving the best part for last. Let me tell, you have not lived until you've had your clit flogged. Again, I would not have sought this out or even thought I would have liked it. It seemed accidental to me at first. I was face up and Mr. McKay pushed my legs up and was getting the crease below my ass and the tops of my thighs and then all of a sudden it hit my clit. I let out a little shriek because I wasn't expecting it, but then I settled back in and parted my thighs a little more. He took the hint ;)

I was also informed it wasn't an accident to begin with. Always two steps ahead, that one.

In summation, I loved this flogger. Light enough to use on sensitive areas, but still leaving a sting when used after something more intense. I think it will become a regular character in our everyday arsenal. I just have to remember not to leave it in the living room—although it might pass as a cat toy ;)

You can find the House of Eros Light Flogger here! I'd recommend looking around the Bondage Bunnies site while you're there, they have lots to offer, I got lost in their lingerie section for a while.

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"I'm Going to Spank You, Hard."~ Jaye Peaches Visits!

I have Jaye Peaches on my blog today! She has a re-release out called To Know You. It's lots of yummy D/s and BDSM.

If you haven't read this one yet, you are missing out! Gemma and Jason are utterly delicious. This is one of my favorite scenes earlier on in their relationship together. Jason owns the company Gemma is an intern for, and her officemates have been gossiping about their relationship. Jason isn't particularly happy about that :


“Are you going to fire me, sir?” I whispered, hoping to placate him quickly. “Punish me?” I didn’t want it. But there again, it worked. It moved things on. When done right, except, I still wasn’t sure if he understood how much trust I placed in his integrity.

Jason sighed, and perched on his desk. “No. The situation is under control. Managers have been slapped back into line. I’m not going to fire you. It’s obvious you didn’t intend to make mischief and I don’t think it would help your career. I want this, us, to work, which means I will punish you—I’m not going to fire your arse, like I warned you I would.” Gone were the unpleasant tones of an angry boss. Something else switched into play—husky, stern and bizarrely warming. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

Striding to the door, he bolted it, locking us in. “I want you to stand facing the wall, over there, nose against it while you compose yourself.”

I trembled, my heart pounding, as I carried out his instructions. I was strangely excited—punishment in an office was a fantasy of mine—except the fantasy was really happening. What was he going to do to me? Wedged in the corner, my legs wobbled.

Eventually, he issued his next command. “Drop your skirt and knickers off.”

Inhaling deeply, I shuffled out of my skirt and slipped out of my knickers, leaving behind my stockings and high heels. I picked the clothes up and laid them on one of the chairs.

Jason selected a chair and moved it away from the conference table. Sitting on it, he waved me over with his forefinger, while with the other hand he undid his tie and pulled it out from under his collar. With a flick of his wrist, he loosened the top button.

“Turn around,” he instructed, and he used his necktie to bind my wrists. Holding my arm by the elbow, he lowered me across his lap, then hooked his leg over and trapped my thighs. He pressed down on the small of my back with the flat of his hand.

“I’m going spank you, Gemma, hard. This is a punishment,” a soft yet stern tone, “Why am I punishing you?”

“Because I was indiscreet, Sir,” I murmured. Underneath his hand, he must have been able to feel my racing heartbeats.


I closed my eyes and waited. The smack swept across both cheeks. He’d kept his palm rigid and flat, swiping up from right to left. Pain radiated out immediately and I gasped. While I gritted my teeth, more swipes followed. I hung my head and attempted to concentrate on processing the pain.

What happens when a kink loving woman has to come to terms with a traumatic episode in her life? Can the broken submissive learn to trust again?

When Gemma Marshall resigns from a good job to work as a lowly intern in the heart of the City of London, immediately, the elusive company boss, Jason Lucas, seduces her.

Following a whirlwind of weekend trysts at his country mansion, Jason’s need to dominate her re-awakens her terrifying nightmares and leads to revelations from both of them.  What Jason seeks is an enduring relationship which means Gemma, if she wishes to win his heart and soul, has to return to the extraordinary life she’d left behind.

Can Gemma survive another relationship with an alluring master of the bedroom or will she finally turn her back on her natural desires?

Their passionate and highly erotic affair reaches crisis point when her ex-lover hunts her down, seeking retribution.

To Know You is a fictional account of two people who begin a journey together. It is a complete story.  Both characters are sexy and know what they want. Neither are novices, neither expect love in their relationship. One takes control and the other yields. In the bedroom, there are the erotic scenes of BDSM, discipline and romance.  The dynamic can be intoxicating—and dangerous.

Trust is key.  Communicating trust.  Building trust and maintaining integrity. And love? It’s not always about love - until Gemma meets Jason. 

(Previously published as Trust Me to Know You)

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