FELICITY BRANDON’S AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
International best selling writer of BDSM, spanking erotic romance. Golden Flogger Finalist.
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FELICITY BRANDON’S BOOKS
SUBMISSION AT THE TOWER (The Depths of Desire)
Published by: Stormy Night Publications, September 2015.
Contemporary BDSM Romance, Spanking Romance. – c. 64, 000 words.
#BDSMRomance #SpankingRomance #EroticRomance
“This is not a love story. This is the story of the hunger inside of me which must be fed before it consumes me entirely…”
After a chance encounter with a handsome stranger introduces her to The Tower, an institution that trains women in submission, Janie McClusky is irresistibly drawn to the place. But admittance comes at a price, and soon enough Janie is utterly bare and fully on display, blushing crimson as the men at The Tower thoroughly explore her body, bringing her pain, pleasure, and shame as they see fit.
As Janie’s training begins, there is one man among the group who seems to know her own needs better than she does, and before long she finds herself yearning and even begging for his touch. But if she relinquishes control completely to this captivating stranger and allows him to break down her remaining defences, will there be any coming back at all?
Publisher’s Note: Submission at The Tower is an erotic novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, extensive BDSM content, exhibitionism, anal play, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
A thunderous round of applause fills the air. The sound is so loud that it almost deafens me and a bizarre moment of panic collects in my throat. Now I want out – out of this wooden contraption and away from this public scene. I pull futilely on my trapped limbs and try to get Shaw’s attention over the growing din in the hall.
I try to shout, but even to my own ears my voice doesn’t travel far enough for him to hear me. Being at this angle means that I am effectively shouting down to the floor. Fear and frustration fill me. Where is Shaw? What if he’s wandered off into the crowd and has left me here? Knowing I can’t shift my arms and head, I try my legs instead and begin stamping my feet as hard as I can. I am desperate for his attention and desperate to be out of here! In the midst of my perturbed anxiety, there is only one word left that I can think to shout:
Within an instant Shaw’s legs are there – right in front of me – and he is back crouching down at my face. I don’t wait for him to speak.
“Sir, please,” I beg him. “Please get me out of here now!”
“Of course, little one,” he soothes, “don’t panic, Janie. Breathe… I’ll have you out in just a moment.”
He rises again and those long legs disappear to my right. I soon feel the weight of the wood rising above my head. It’s literally like a substantial burden is lifted from me and yet for some reason I am reluctant to move. It seems ridiculous but it’s as though the stocks have become something of a safety net around me and now – without their support – I feel doubly exposed and humiliated.
Shaw’s body presses into my legs from behind me. His taut body leans in close and spoons me as he reaches up and slides an arm over each of my own. I wince audibly at the sudden hurt I feel as his body presses into my sore behind, but am so enriched by the close contact that I push the pain away. Then his hot breath is on the back of my neck and I hear him. This time his words are like nourishment to my starving body.
“It’s okay, Janie, I’m here… I’m right here.”
He kisses the back of my shoulder and my eyes close reflexively. Such a tender interlude is utterly unexpected at this moment.
“I need you to lift yourself out of the stocks now, little one. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, although the words do not seem to come out.
I brace myself and using whatever will I have remaining, I raise my head from the wooden block. The movement is tentative at first and then surreal. My head feels so heavy and the ache in the neck is once again overwhelming. As I rise I feel Shaw removing my wrists from their prisons and drawing my arms gently back into my body. Then he wraps himself around me like a warm cocoon and holds me. For a long moment there is nothing further. I exist only in this instant, wrapped up in Shaw’s enticing scent and body heat.
“Well done, little one,” he whispers into my right ear as he caresses the length of my shin with his hand. “You were splendid in those stocks.”
I close my eyes and feel his soft kisses on my neck. I have become a bubble of contentment in his arms and genuinely nothing else matters to me at this moment. My life before this day feels like something I read once in a novel. I remember the plot, but the details are sketchy. I rest my aching neck back against him. Shaw shifts his weight backwards and manoeuvres my body so that his left arm slips underneath my knees and his right one supports my back.
I’m aware that he is lifting me from the floor. I know I am safe in his arms and on some level I couldn’t care less where he is taking me, so long as we’re together. Still the movement is unnerving, so I open my eyes a little to see what is happening. We are already down from the platform and Shaw is stalking across the hall. From this vantage I finally get to absorb the stunning décor of the place. So long the focus of the room, I am amazed to see the grandiose furnishings around us. Magnificent looking golden drapes hang from the floor length windows just ahead of us, framing a number of gold and burgundy chaise-lounges. Most are occupied with suited men and nude, kneeling women. The sumptuousness reminds me of something you might see in a palace. I try not to look around me, but instead keep my eyes in the direction Shaw is taking us. I snuggle into his heat and take deep breaths into his shirt, inhaling him as though Shaw himself has become the oxygen I need to live.
In his now routine fashion, he sweeps a free hand under my chin and lifts my face up to meet his own eyes.
“Did you swallow my cum, little one?” he asks breathlessly.
“Yes sir,” I reply, suddenly anxious that this may not have been the correct action – after all – he never instructed me either way…
He smiles and I relax in an instant.
“Good girl,” he purrs, “although I think you did miss a bit?”
He moves his hand from the underside of my chin to just under my lips and wipes away the remaining fluid. I gape at him as he holds the finger out in front of me.
“Clean it, please,” he instructs me, sensually.
Without breaking my gaze from him, I lean forward and in the most wanton moment of my life I lick his finger clean, using long flicks of my tongue to wipe away the salty fluid. I continue licking even after the finger is clean. I am enjoying myself too much to stop and anyway Shaw has not commanded me otherwise. He watches me with a fascinated intensity, riveted by the show I am putting on for him. In this moment the dynamic between us shifts in some way. Even though I am most definitely submitting to his will, it’s as though he acknowledges the power I have in the partnership as well. Without me, without my consent and my submission, he is nothing. After a moment he pulls his eyes tight shut, needing to break the connection between us to regain the front foot. I want to smile, but duly continue to lick his finger like the excited little puppy I have become.
When he opens them again I can see that he has recovered any lost composure. His mouth widens into a grin and he smiles at me adoringly. That look is heaven-sent. He looks so young and relaxed, and… happy.
“I think that’s clean now, little one!” he chuckles lightly, and pulls the finger away from me.
I say nothing and bow my head slightly as I feel the power shift returning to normal. I see him raise one leg as if he means to stand again, but instead he leans forward and moves my hair from my face. Gently he plants a long kiss on my panting mouth. The moment is so tender that I nearly lose my breath altogether. Nose to nose, we gaze at each other in silence, me still on my knees with my legs splayed as I’ve been told. His hand wraps softly around the back of my neck and he holds me this way as he speaks.
“Now remove those panties,” barks a voice from over my right shoulder.
This order is so much firmer than the previous, it almost takes me by surprise. Instinctively I turn my head to see its owner, but am met by the hard stare of Shaw.
“Now, number sixteen …”
Still unsure which man had made the request I wiggle slowly out of my black satin panties. Moving them down my thighs, I allow them to pool at my feet, before stepping out of them and bending carefully to collect them in my hand. I notice to my shame that the gusset is wet and sticky from my own arousal and I feel my face colour again.
“What have you seen?” asks Shaw, not missing a trick, “bring them here, number sixteen.”
Reluctantly I lower my head and take a small step towards him.
“Not like that!” snaps a voice from behind me – the same one which had ordered the removal of my panties. “Get down on your hands and knees!”
The flush in my face flames at the sound of his command. I suspect my embarrassment is more from being so publicly chastised then from the demand, but nonetheless the effect is the same. I am suddenly a ball of mortification in front of these men – my new masters. I take a deep breath and fall silently to my hands and knees.
As I assume this new, more vulnerable position, the atmosphere in the room changes perceptibly. The air is now charged with palpable energy. The nervous ball of arousal in me drives me on and I arch my back shamelessly, pushing my ass and wet pussy out for everyone behind me to see. I am no longer particularly young and even though I work to keep myself in shape, I am still wrecked with the type of body insecurities that plague most people. Strangely in this most exposed of moments, I feel powerful, even in my submission. I know that every pair of eyes is on me, every pair of hands wants to touch me and every cock is straining to fuck me. The result is the most incredible feeling of wanton depravity I have ever experienced.
I glance up at Shaw. I can clearly see his hard length visible through his pin-stripe trousers. The desire to take it in the mouth and taste him is strong and yet the desire to submit to his will is even more powerful. Without being told I dip my head to my right hand and pick up my panties in my teeth. A low hum of appreciation rattles around the circle. Then, panties hanging from my mouth, I crawl as seductively as I can across to where Shaw is waiting.
Two things strike me. The first is how much harder it is to crawl with grace than I’d imagined. The unforgiving wood under my knees cuts into my skin, making each movement a temporary agony and the progress feel awkward and clumsy. I hope in vain that it looks lither then it feels, and yet somehow I doubt it… As I move drawing in deep breaths through my nose, the second thing becomes apparent. The smell of my own arousal fills my senses. The panties in my teeth seem to radiate it. I’m sure that everyone else in the room can also get the scent. I would no doubt be blushing furiously about this new shame was it not for my already humiliating predicament! And yet this humiliation is exactly what I’ve been craving for so long, my drenched pussy a testament to how much I am enjoying the experience.
As my mind dwells on the depths I have already sunk into since my arrival less than an hour ago, I approach Shaw’s feet and legs. Unsure of how to proceed, but sure that looking up at him is not an acceptable response, I wait on all fours in front of him, like an untrained animal. I squirm at the prospect that he may be making the same comparison.
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THE VIKING’S CONQUEST
- Stormy Night Publications
- 21st October, 2016
- Historical, BDSM, spanking romance
- Approximately 91,500 words
- HEA Ending
Tags: #eroticromance #spankingromance #BDSM #sexualhumiliation #historical #vikings
When she is left all but alone to defend her family’s castle against an army of battle-hardened Viking raiders, nineteen-year-old Princess Aurelie of Donrose fights valiantly but is soon overcome. After her capture by the tall, handsome leader of the northmen, Prince Anders, she is carried away along with the rest of the spoils of conquest.
Anders makes it clear to the princess that she is now his property, to do with as he likes, and he takes pleasure in stripping her bare and putting her on display. When she defies her new master, Aurelie quickly discovers that Anders will not hesitate to spank her soundly, but to her shame the painful, humiliating punishment leaves her deeply aroused.
Bound and helpless yet burning with desire, the princess finds herself longing for the bold, dominant warrior to take her hard and thoroughly, and when she surrenders to his mastery of her body the pleasure is more intense than she would have ever thought possible. Aurelie’s submission to Anders grows more complete with each passing day, but when her brothers arrive with an army to seek vengeance against their old enemy she must make a fateful choice. Will she remain loyal to her family and her people, or come to the aid of her Viking prince?
Publisher’s Note: The Viking’s Conquest includes spankings, sexual scenes and sexual humiliation, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
War has come to Donrose, and with her men away, Princess Aurelie is left to defend her castle from the impending northern invasion. Vastly outnumbered and overpowered, brave Aurelie is soon captured and finds herself the new prize of Anders, Prince of the Vikings. Uncertain of her captor, and frustrated by her imprisonment, Aurelie is confused by her burgeoning desires for the towering Anders, but when he puts the maiden over his knee to punish her, her thirst for him threatens to spill over… How can a lady of such high position entertain the idea of a spanking, yet alone be excited by it? Bound, used and displayed, Aurelie’s journey of self-discovery begins as she learns her surrender delivers not only humiliation, but also great arousal and pleasure. With her yearning fit to burst, she yields to her new master, utterly compelled by his dominant affections. But then, all at once – everything changes… And now Aurelie of Donrose must make the ultimate choice and one that she never thought possible. With Anders’ life hanging in the balance, will she choose her family’s lands or her new found love?
Excerpt 1: first meeting (tame content):
“Now we are alone—finally.” Those eyes drill into me again. “Tell me, my lady, who are you really?”
I flex my fingers in front of me and move my head, boldly meeting his gaze. “I am Aurelie of Donrose, the king’s only daughter and certainly not your lady.”
That wry smile cuts across his features again. “I thought you may say that, and yet you find yourself here, tied up on my floor and so, I rather think that you are mine?”
“I know not who you are,” I say in the most derisory way I can muster, “and yet I promise you that I belong to no man of the north!”
He exhales, shifting his weight in the chair to lean against his right elbow. His big blue eyes never leave me, eying me with an intensity I have never felt before.
I push myself upright—not as easy as you’d think without the proper use of your hands. Sudden pain ricochets down my left side and I squeeze my eyes shut. The sound of his movement makes them fly open again and I recoil as I see how close he now is to my seated position.
“You’re in pain, my lady?”
There’s genuine concern etched across his face and for the first time I acknowledge just what a handsome face it is. His hair is the colour of dark sand, but lighter than any I’d find on a shore of Donrose. His skin is paler than my own and that of my kin and yet I can see the years of experience worn into his forehead and those high cheekbones. His chin is covered in long, dark blond hair, and then there are those eyes… They are the colour of the deepest oceans I have read fables about, and they swim with dark intensity.
I take a deep breath, aware suddenly that I have been gaping at him this whole time. “I was hurt in battle,” I whisper, barely able to sustain eye contact with him.
He nods, rising from his crouched position and extends a muscular arm down toward me. Slowly and tentatively I meet his hand, making skin contact with him with my bound wrists. As the back of my hand brushes against him, we make eye contact again and an inexplicable shiver rushes down my spine.
“Let my servants attend to your injuries…”
I’m not sure if this is a question or a command, but his tone is almost hypnotic, trying to quash my defiance and make me compliant. I stand up next to him, fighting the urge to choose an easy life and allow his devilish façade to overawe me. It would, I realise, be all too easy to just stop fighting and consent for him to take care of me.
Excerpt 2: chemistry (tame):
He pauses his analysis of my chest and looks up into my eyes. His stare holds me there for a long moment and I realise I am succumbing to his will whether I like it or not. He is the predator—he has been all along—and I am his prey. Aurelie of Donrose, it seems, was no match for this invader from the northlands.
“Unexpected?” he repeats.
He rises with care to a standing position, grasping the post to his left for support. His tall frame is now right next to me, his head skimming the silken canopy over us. He leans toward me and presses himself against my nakedness. I gasp, closing my eyes at the contact and yet relishing the physical closeness.
“Does that mean my captive is warming to her new master?”
I open my eyes to find his face right there, above me, that large mouth ready to devour its prey. “I… I don’t know,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. There’s an honesty about my answer that disconcerts me.
Anders shifts his weight slightly, snaking his right hand around my body and skimming my behind. Once there he grabs my left cheek and holds me, using my own body to pull me closer to him. My throbbing wet centre, already pushed forward by the bondage holding my ankles in place, nestles against his clothed right thigh.
“You are not sure, Aurelie, or you are just too afraid to say?”
I blush at his accurate analysis of the situation, dropping my eyes from his gaze. His hand rises north, leaving my ass and taking me by surprise. Anders uses each long digit to trace lines up the left side of my body, pausing at the curve of my bosom, and then finally reaching the side of my face. Once here, the hand tips my chin upward to meet his eye line, holding it in place once he is satisfied with the position.
He eyes me intently and I realise that he is expecting an answer.
Excerpt 3: a warning (moderate content):
Leaving my empty goblet, I slide from the soft pile at his order. I can already feel the desire bursting from between my thighs as I fall to all fours and begin my crawl to where he has seated himself.
“We will begin as before—you will be spanked over my knee—but this time there will be little pleasure in it for you, my captive. I intend to hurt you—to mark that pretty little behind—and make you unable to sit properly for some time.”
I am back by his feet as he concludes and warily, I raise my eyes as he finishes the sentence. I know I am not hiding the terror in my face and yet still I am compelled to carry on—submitting myself to him in this way for our mutual need. He catches my hair in his left hand and pulls it into a rough ponytail, again drawing my head back.
“When my hand is aching from tanning your backside, I will bind you to the bedpost and continue to thrash you with my strap. Do you understand?”
He eyes me wildly and for a moment I am too afraid to even respond. I have to swallow hard again to find my voice.
“Please, my Lofðungr,” I say shakily. “I do not know if I can bear such a punishment?”
He never takes his eyes from me as he answers. “You can and you will, my sweeting,” he says. “You will submit to me in this way as a sign of your true desire to be mine.”
I close my eyes at his words, understanding for the first time his real intention. He means not just to punish me, but to mark and possess me in some meaningful way. To make me his again in the way that our coupling had done before. As I open my eyes again and see him standing over me, there are tears but also a new acceptance.
I nod my head as best I can whilst he is still holding my hair in his fist. “I will bear it,” I say, my voice breaking.
He leans in toward me, his face just an inch from mine, those blue pools burning into me. “You will bear it,” he replies, his hot breath against my face, “and I will love you for it.”
Excerpt 4: interaction (moderate):
I press my face into his cold skin, immersing myself in the smell of the man who has so fundamentally changed me. He twists his head left again, watching me.
“If these chains were to disappear, I would tan that beautiful backside for you for that comment.”
His tone is low, sending a shiver through me. I feel my breath quicken at his words, imagining me sprawled over his strong lap, my skirts tossed over my torso as he administers my spanking. I clench the moistening muscles between my legs, acknowledging how good the idea sounds. His eyes sparkle as they assess my responses.
“You would like that too, wouldn’t you, my captive?” he probes.
I swallow hard, knowing that even in this gloom, Anders will notice my colour rising from my neck to my cheeks.
“Yes,” I murmur, transfixed by him even in this new role reversal.
“Have you missed me?” he asks, moving his arms in the metal chains above us. “Have you missed my discipline?”
“You know I have,” I reply, not daring to take my eyes from his blue orbs.
Excerpt 5: spanking (adult content):
“Drop the fruit. I want to hear your voice whilst you’re spanked.”
In a moment of uncharacteristic obedience, I widen my mouth a fraction and release the soft flesh of the fruit. I watch as it falls the short distance to the floor underneath me, along with a humiliating quantity of my drool. Relief washes over my jaw as it can now finally relax, although I wonder what Anders will have in mind for me next.
“Good,” he says from over me. “Now tell me, do you know why you are to be spanked?”
I flinch as he vocalises my predicament, as though hearing it out loud somehow reaffirms the sheer ignominy of it.
“I…” I pause, trying to make myself say the words. “I am to be spanked because I spilled your drinks, my Lofðungr,” I say eventually.
“True,” Anders replies, slapping the cheeks of my behind. The impact is not hard, but is just enough to wake the flesh around the area, summoning the blood there and sending the message to me: this is mine. “And why did you spill the drinks, Aurelie? What function were you serving?”
I cringe inwardly, knowing he intends to revel fully in my disgrace. “I was your table,” I say in the smallest voice possible.
“My what?” he asks, raising his voice. “I have never known the lady be so coy before this moment!”
“Your table, my Lofðungr,” I reply, pushing back the humiliated emotion that threatens to surface.
“Yes!” he cries, finally satisfied with my answer. “A table for holding my refreshments. You had one purpose only: to hold the tray of drinks and Aurelie, you failed, my sweeting. You failed in the most spectacular fashion!”
The old indignation rises in me. “I am no table!” I spit, my voice now full of venom.
He lands a hard smack against my upturned cheeks, the sound swilling around my head before the sting of the impact even registers.
“You are mine!” he says evenly. “Mine to do whatever I please with. The sooner you come to learn this, the easier your new life will be, my lady.”
He smacks me again; not full-throttle this time, but I know he means it. I take a sharp intake of breath at the impact, willing the pain to be done so that I may experience a little of that odd arousal the previous spanking had produced. A further three smacks ensue. The loud sound of his palm connecting with my flesh echoes through the confines of his quarters. I lie here over his knee, forced to accept this new dynamic: Anders, the foreign invader, now apparently the master of me. A man who can chain me up, and use me as furniture at his will.
I push against the pain as he spanks me again. The sheer force of my own obstinate pride somehow makes the process easier, although there’s no denying it does hurt. My behind feels red and inflamed already and I have no idea how long Anders intends to keep me here.
“Are you beginning to understand?” His voice booms from someplace over my head. It sounds oddly distant to my ears.
“Yes, my Lofðungr,” I say through gritted teeth as yet another smack lands across both cheeks, but even as I speak I know I do not mean it.
“Tell me then. Let me hear your learning, Aurelie. What are you?”
He pauses the spanking, perhaps to allow me to speak and I take a deep breath. Can I really say these things just to appease him? I consider my position: naked, chained, and over his lap. What choice do I have?
“I am yours, my Lofðungr,” I say, trying to detach myself from the words.
“My what?” he says, stroking the hot area he has punished.
I bite hard on my lip again, despising him for reducing me to this. “Your property!” I spit the last word out as though it threatens to choke me if I keep it inside.
“Hmm,” says Anders and I swear I can hear him smiling. “Better—but I do not believe that you mean it. Not yet anyway…”
He draws my body back a few inches from the hips, so that my aching core rises from his hard body and I am effectively bent over him from the waist.
“Spread your legs,” he says softly.
With extreme reluctance I move myself into this new, even more humiliating pose. My breasts, previously crushed under my weight, are now freed and swing softly beneath me. My face is also now less concealed and I unwittingly catch his smiling gaze in my peripheral vision. I look away at once, but not before he has noticed my error. Leaning forward, he wraps my unruly hair toward my right shoulder, exposing my face, now burning with the shame and excitement I am feeling.
“Look at me,” he commands sensually.
Slowly I turn my head ever so slightly to the left and look unwillingly into those smirking blue eyes.
“I have a feeling about you, Aurelie. Shall I share it with you?” he asks casually.
I stare at him, unwilling to answer and play his game. I can feel the old defiance rising to the surface for just the briefest moment. When I say nothing, he spanks my behind again. It feels harder from this position somehow. The sound is different and the sting feels crueller. My previously fleshy bottom is now stretched into a new stance and unbelievably I think I miss the reassurance of his body heat. I am even more exposed this way.
“Answer me!” he snaps, his hand connecting with my skin again.
“Please share it, my Lofðungr,” I reply, my voice breaking ever so slightly as the fresh pain registers.
There is a pause and I fear that he will choose to just continue spanking me like this, and then finally, he speaks again:
“I have a feeling that you actually like being treated this way, my lady.”
I look at him, my eyes no doubt sharing the indignation, resentment, and disbelief I am feeling as I register his words. How in Donrose can he know this about me? These are feelings that I myself had never known until this day!
“You’re wrong,” I splutter, but we both know I don’t mean it.
“Really?” he asks, spanking me again. I squeeze my eyes shut at the new impact, before opening them again. Anders has moved in even closer to my body in the interim. I notice for this first time that he too appears to be a little out of breath, and I wonder if this is exciting him as well. “So you don’t want me to touch your body then, Aurelie?”
His hand moves to within an inch of my left breast as he speaks. Sensing his approach, my already hard buds contract even further, betraying my need.
“No,” I say, continuing the reassuring pretence that I do in fact not want him anywhere near me.
Ignoring me, his hand finally reaches my breast, cupping it gently at first, before moving his fingers south to the nipple. I gasp as he circles it and then grabs the end, tugging at it hard. Despite my veil of disgust, his touch feels astonishingly good, goading my body. My head falls forward, no longer able to contain the desire I feel. Wordlessly he moves closer, reaching for the right breast and repeating his treatment of the left. Both nipples tighten in excitement, silently begging him for more.
A soft moan leaves my lips before I can contain myself. He laughs at the sound and I mean to chastise myself, but already my whole entity is fixed on where his hands will explore next. The left hand that had so ruthlessly, yet beautifully, tormented my breasts, runs a line down my midriff, over my tense belly to the hot, damp patch of hair between my thighs. I take short, shallow breaths, my hands planted firmly on the wooden chest beneath us, as my mind races at the sensations he creates. Anticipation about what he will choose to do next courses through me. I gasp aloud, wondering how I can possibly permit these actions to continue. At the same time his other hand spanks me hard again, sending my body into a trembling mess. The reverberations travel through my growing wetness, to where his left hand waits. Slowly he presses his palm against my skin, pushing through the soft hair, into the moist folds trembling below.
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