Reading room

Well, somewhere between a reading room and a bookshop actually, although a shop with only one title in stock at the moment. But I'm working on that.

I've been a professional writer for years, but have only recently taken the plunge and begun writing erotic fiction. I was finding it difficult to find the sort of well-written, novel-length stories I like to read - so decided to write one instead.
For as long as I can remember the Victorian period has been a big part of my fantasy world, inspired by books like 'The Pearl' and 'Frank & I'. So, I made my debut novel a Victorian spanko melodrama.

I strongly identify with my heroine Felicity (Flick to her friends). She is a Victorian young lady, but with more than a dash of 21st Century attitude, too. Her story runs to around 55,000 words and I'm quite pleased with it.

'A Week in the Country' is now available as an ebook to download and I'm busy working on novel number two. Please take a look on either or Amazon uk and download the free sample. Writers value constructive feedback, but it's hard to find. It's even harder to get good feedback when you're writing erotic fiction... so please, if you read some or all of 'A Week in the Country' do let me know what you think.

Here's some little blite-sized chunks that give a flavour of Flick's adventure:

“How do you come to be invading my privacy in this way, Miss Stirling? And making free use of what’s mine?”
Flick couldn’t think of anything to say. “If you had given the matter a moment’s thought you wouldn’t be here now facing the music,” she said. “Would you?”
“No, mistress.”
“'No mistress’,” said Miss Harwood, mimicking Flick’s voice. “Nell, fetch Miss Stirling the Number One cane.”
Nell hurried from the room, leaving Flick and Miss Harwood alone. “You’re a wilful young lady, Miss Stirling. Wilful, and in need of correction.”
“Yes, mistress,” Flick said meekly. She could feel her heart race and she shook, but under the fear she also felt a gathering arousal and knew that she was growing wet.
“When Nell returns should I cane you? Is that what you deserve?”
Flick thought of what she had heard the night before and shrunk from the prospect. But she also knew that what they had been doing meant punishment was required and felt she must take her share.
“Yes, miss,” she mumbled.
“Speak up girl,” Miss Harwood demanded.
“Yes, mistress!” Flick responded, parade ground-style.
“Jolly good. Take off your dress and corset, if you’re wearing one, and then stand in that corner, hands on head,” said the Governess, indicating the corner by the half open door. 


He felt the room’s chill air on his bare behind and his penis on the rough wool of her skirt. “I’m sorry miss, so sorry,” he gabbled, confused by his reaction.
“Sorry? For what?”
“My... thing, ma’am. I’m so ashamed,” he sobbed. But then his every muscle jolted with shock as Harriet’s hand arrived between his legs and grasped his cock.
“Nothing to be ashamed of here,” she said, her normally stern voice just a shade honeyed. “Far from it... Clearly you’re finding this an interesting experience.”
Leaving go of his member she reached across to pick up a big wooden hairbrush that sat on her desk. “Have you ever been corrected with a lady’s hairbrush, Mr Bunning?”
He shook his head and mumbled “no miss”. “It’s a bit of a contradiction,” she said. “A familiar and essential boudoir item. Seemingly inoffensive. But in the right hands it is a fearsome instrument of chastisement. I think you’ll be surprised.”
And he was. The first spank landed four-square across both cheeks and he yelped with shock at its smart. By the tenth he was bucking and shouting.
The hundredth spank found him bruised, resigned and truly contrite, but still she brought the brush back down on his writhing buttocks.
In all she gave him ten dozen spanks. Resting the brush on his scalded cheeks she said:  “Now for the instructive part of our lesson, Mr Bunning. Are you listening?”
He hadn’t been. He should have been, he knew, but he hadn’t been able to because his attention had been elsewhere. The final flurry of spanks had been hard and fast, so much so that his nervous system had been overwhelmed.
The mind-bending smart of the punishment had taken its time to soak in, like rain falling on already sodden earth. A quick flick of the brush across his calves soon woke him up.
“Are you LISTENING?”
“Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.”
“You are a virgin, aren’t you Mr Bunning.” It seemed to be a statement, not a question.
“I don’t think…”
“I don’t give a fig for what you think,” she said coldly. “A virgin. Yes or no?”


“Goldilocks, I presume?”
Flick opened her eyes and looked across the room to where Nell stood in the doorway. It came to her that she had been asleep, but couldn’t think for the moment where she could be.
She also caught a few fading threads of her dream. Her on her back, a man on top. Oddly, the man was Charles Bunning.
Charles Bunning! She shook her head to try to get her thoughts in order and was back – in Nell’s bed, looking at a very disgruntled Nell.
“I’m pleased to see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” Nell said, crossing to the bed and taking the dildo from where it lay next to Flick. She opened the chest, put the dildo inside and then let the lid drop back into place with a crash.
“Stand up,” said Nell. Her tone had none of its usual subservience, but was commanding.
Flick got to her feet and made an attempt to tidy her tangled hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was your room...”
“Well, it is. You’re trespassing and you’ll now be punished for it.” Nell went to the bed and lifted the mattress and took out a butter pat. The rectangle of wood with its shaped handle was a perfect spanking implement, Flick could see.
Giving Flick a significant look Nell sat on the end of the bed and made a lap, smoothing her skirt ready for Flick to take up position. “Over you go.”
Reluctantly Flick climbed into place. She hadn’t replaced her drawers so when her skirt was lifted her bottom was bare and ready. It felt big and vulnerable and she clenched her buttocks nervously.
“I think you’ve earned yourself a sound spanking, don’t you,” said Nell.



  1. Wow...

    What a nice writing
    Love to read it...

    :-) I'd love the drawings also!

    Love, Monsieur Fessee