2014 Love Spanks!
If you haven’t yet read up on what this is about, click here! It’s is absolutely free to play and chock-a-block full of fun reads and prizes. Yes, prizes! Win a free Kindle or Nook and any one of literally hundreds of dollars worth of gift cards, annual subscriptions to your favorite spanking sites, and free stories. Many of the contributing authors are offering prizes of their own…including ME! Woot! What am I giving away? Nothing less than a $25 Amazon gift certificate to spend however your heart desires! But, you ask with increasing excitement as you lean in closer to your monitor, what do I have to do to win these prizes? Comment. That’s it. To be entered to win my prize, simply comment on this post. To be entered to win the Kindle/Nook or any of the other official Love Spanks prizes, visit all 14 of the participating Love Spanks blogs and answer the question that will be asked at the bottom of each posted submission. It’s very easy, very painless, and you’ll get some awesome stuff for doing it. 🙂
So, are you ready to get started?
Of course you are, I can see you gearing up for some great spanking action from here!
So let’s get started. Here’s my Love Spanks submission. All comments are entered to win the $25 Amazon gift certificate, as well as all the other official prizes offered by Love Spanks. 🙂
I have really debated on whether or not I was going to submit something from Ana Adored for this event. On the one hand, yes, it does fit the theme—two women falling in love, check; spankings galore, double check. On the other hand, later this year when Anastasia (no relation to the Ana in the story) and I put our heads together and bring this story out of the whirlwind of fantasies spinning in our collective heads, every single word I’ve already penned is going to be scraped. We are going to start all over and craft something truly phenomenal (I can say that because we both have just tons of talent and I have very little humility—and if you know me well enough to laugh, then you already know I never take anything I write or say very seriously).
Still, why post a scene that might not survive the inevitable cut? Well, because it’s a darn good scene and it might make it into Ana Adored after all. I am one gigantic, mossy well of eternal hope.
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What the hell was she doing?
Ana walked her circle, her back straight, a heavy book wobbling on her head with just about every step. This was, in her opinion, one of the most pointless exercises she’d yet been made to do. Comportment? Balance and grace? Ana made a face, but only when she was far enough in her circle to hide it from Miranda.
Miranda. Ana glanced back over her shoulder at the tea table, where the taller woman was holding court over the other Castle “Ladies” as regal as any queen. Ana swallowed her resentment. This wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind when Miss M. first arranged this trip. She didn’t want to be stately or “comported.” She wanted to brat a little, have fun, get sassy and laugh. She wanted to play. Isn’t that what vacations were for, playing? Explore yourself, Miss M. had urged. How could she possibly explore anything when all she was allowed to do was walk in endless circles with this blasted book on her head?
“Eyes forward, Ana,” Trinity called, the reprimand making Ana jump. She flushed guiltily and snapped her eyes forward, but it didn’t make any difference. When she made her next circuit, she saw Miranda had turned in her chair. She was watching her now, a knowing smile tugging at her perfect lips.
Ana flushed even deeper. A tiny stab in the pit of her stomach made the resentment inside her twist, turning it to anger. Why was she even cooperating here? This was infantile and degrading, and nothing that she’d signed up for. This wasn’t what she wanted at all!
The conscious decision to just stop walking never fully crossed her mind, yet her feet simply stopped moving. The princess directly behind her walked right into Ana’s back, so clearly she wasn’t the only one not paying attention. Both their books hit the floor with twin ‘whumps’ so loud it stopped everything. The “ladies” at the table with Miranda paused their chattering long enough to turn around and look. The “princess” behind her stomped her foot and cried, “Look what you made me do!”
Ana glared at Miranda, who rose calmly from her seat and began to make her way across the room. “Come along, my heart,” she said, holding out her hand to draw Ana from the comportment ring and probably take her someplace quiet where she could diffuse the situation.
Except that Ana didn’t particularly want to be diffused. Every nerve inside her hummed wildly with the effort to keep her resentment/irritation/frustration tamped down firmly inside her. She trembled, feeling volcanic and right on the verge of cataclysmic destruction. She was overreacting and a very, very small part of her knew it, but every other part of her was keying up, winding tighter and tighter, pushing her inexorably toward an explosion the likes of which would do Vesuvius proud. It was completely out of proportion to the truly minor affront her pride had suffered all morning and yet, Ana couldn’t make herself stop.
And Miranda knew it. It was right there, lurking in the soft brown depths of her eyes. The way she looked at her now, oh yes, Miranda knew exactly what Ana was going to do. She probably knew it even before Ana did.
“Come along,” Miranda said again, still so calm and understanding, and tall, and so damned perfect that it set Ana’s teeth on edge. “Come. Get your book. Let’s go.”
She wanted Ana to get her book? Fine, she’d get it all right.
Ana dropped down to snatch the heavy volume right up off the floor, vaulting all the way up onto her tiptoes just to maximize every last inch of height necessary to slam the book down all over again. This time the sound wasn’t just loud, it was furiously so, and Ana withered a little inside just to hear it. In the few seconds that followed, as she cast all her seething resentment at Miranda, she was almost overwhelmed by tears. Ana wasn’t a big crier. She certainly never cried in front of other people, and right now the room was full of strangers—the only important one of which was the tall, beautiful Lady Hardwick. Would she even still want her when all this was done? Ana just didn’t know; if anything, not knowing made the anger worse.
“Little heart,” Miranda said, reaching up her hand. She would have brushed the stray wisps of hair that had frizzed their way free of all these little girl curls pinned up behind her, but like the tears and her bottom lip which was now wobbling precariously, Ana still couldn’t make herself stop.
She slapped Miranda’s hand aside, and then was so ashamed of herself for lashing out that she couldn’t even just stand here and scream out all the angry things—I’m done with this crap! Or, why are you making me do this? Or, don’t just stand there staring at me, I want comfort, damn it; aren’t I worth at least that much?—that just kept tumbling through her heart and her head and yet stopped shy of her mouth.
To not say anything, to stand here and expect Miranda to be able to read her mind, to be this angry and yet wanting nothing more than to feel Miranda’s soft arms slip in around her shoulders and pull her close, felt wrong. It felt manipulative, like real “me, me, me” bad princess behavior and mind games. She’d always hated mind games.
She had to get out of here; Ana snapped about on her heel.
“I have not excused you,” Miranda called after her, and it was so far away from what Ana wanted—needed—to hear right then, that she almost burst into tears right there.
“I’ll excuse myself!” she shouted back, and stormed right out of the tea room. She didn’t just let the door swing shut behind her, she turned and slammed it closed with all the fury of her arm. She screamed while she did it, scaring half to death the Little Maid who was dusting pictures at the far end of the hall. Far from feeling satisfied, however unreasonable she knew her little fit to be, Ana began to choke on the swelling sobs rising so hard and fast to get out of her.
She had to get back to her room. Now. Right now, before she collapsed here in the middle of this public hall and just bawled. But Ana didn’t make even ten steps. She never heard the door behind her open or shut again. All she knew was one moment she was having the fit of her life, and in the next, fingers like mini bands of steel suddenly locked around her upper arm, swinging her sharply around again.
“Let g—” Ana lost her anger to a startled shriek when instead of coming face to face with Miranda, a sharp jerk pulled her completely off her feet. She landed face-first down across Miranda’s lap even as the much taller woman dropped to sit upon a bench pushed up to one wall. “Don’t you—” ‘Dare’ became just another squeak of outrage as Miranda’s open hand began to paddle a hard and fast rhythm all over Ana’s upturned rump. That hand that had been so soft the night before was now like granite.
She kicked, flailed, bucking and thrashing her bottom on Miranda’s knee, trying in any way she could to twist her hips somewhere that hand couldn’t reach her. Except that it never once missed. Her whole bottom was on fire beneath the folds of her princess skirts. Her anger was failing beneath a rising swell of despair. She burst into tears and still the spanking continued, an endless rain that washed over her, consumed her every inch, wore her out so fast and so completely that in seconds, all she could do was lie beneath the vigorous rise and fall of Miranda’s hand and weep.
“Oh, my poor little heart.” Miranda pulled Ana upright, seating her on her lap, as if she had not just spanked her so resoundingly over it just seconds ago. Her hands, the soft and the hard, gently wiped the tears from Ana’s face. “There, there now. Feel better?”
It was an awful paradox, but yes—with her bottom burning, her eyes aching, hiccuping and coughing and still choking on straggling tears—Ana did feel better. The anger and frustration were both gone. So was the despair. Exhausted, she buried her face against Miranda’s neck, curling up small and tight in the other woman’s arms, and let herself be lulled by the heady beat of the heart thumping just under Ana’s tear-dampened cheek.
“I feel silly and stupid walking all those endless circles,” she sniffled between hitches of shaky breath.
Smoothing her hair back from her hot face, she felt more than saw Miranda smile. “Have you ever been tied up before?”
At any other time, words like that would have caused her heart to skip a little trepidatious beat, but not this time. Without raising her head from Miranda’s chest, Ana shook it no.
“A good friend of mine is an absolute wizard with ropes. She once showed me how to twist and twine it just right to make it look every bit as lovely as lingerie.” Craning her neck, Miranda looked fondly down at her. “Would you like to see how beautiful you’d look in a corset of blue and white rope?”
One last stroke of her hand followed the curls of Ana’s hair down her back, and then, with a pat upon the small of her back, Miranda helped her to stand. When she held out her hand, Ana slipped her fingers into Miranda’s. Falling obediently into step beside her, Ana felt…soothed.
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Maren Smith (You’re already here, silly!)