Scottish discipline

The Highlander's Mate by Jaye Peaches

Jaye Peaches is here today with her new book, The Highlander’s Mate.

An author of  D/S romances including Amazon bestsellers, all Jaye’s books contain an element of BDSM, spankings or erotic games of sensual exploration. When not writing, Jaye spends time with her family, enjoying music, sometimes drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.

Let’s look at The Highlander’s Mate from Stormy Night Publications.

Genres: Spanking romance, Regency, Scottish, Paranormal, Shapeshifter

Will centuries of a Highland legend prevent Claire from marrying her lover?


When Claire Armitage’s fiancé, Captain Felix Hughes, informs her that he must interrupt their courtship to travel to his estate in Scotland on urgent business, she is distraught. Refusing to wait patiently for his return as he instructed, she instead journeys to the highlands on her own to join him, but upon her arrival she quickly discovers that he will not tolerate such reckless behaviour.

Resolved to demonstrate to his future bride that disobedience will have consequences, Felix takes Claire over his knee for a thorough spanking on her bare bottom. But chastising her in such a fashion awakens desires in him that are too powerful to control, and to protect her innocence he attempts to send her back home to England until he can make her his wife.

Claire cannot be dissuaded from returning once more to Felix’s side, however, even if it means submitting to any punishment he sees fit and then surrendering completely to his lustful dominance. But when she learns the true reason for his visit to the ancient home of his family, and sees with her own eyes that Felix is much more than an ordinary laird, will Claire still yearn for him to claim her?

Publisher’s note: The Highlander’s Mate is a stand-alone sequel to His Lordship’s Mate. It includes spankings and sexual scenes – strong stuff but worth it. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.


She brushed aside a tear that hung from an eyelid. “I don’t want to be punished,” she huffed.

“Nor do I wish to punish you. This, I can assure you, will end my disappointment, and yours too. I sense you know that you have travelled in on a whimsical pretext and with little consideration for those who care for you. Your impatience is to blame.”

He summoned up her fault with accuracy and she had no ground to argue a defence. “I’ve never been spanked before,” she said quietly.

“It is time you were then.”

She gaped at him, astounded by his consistent tone of voice and refusal to be swayed by her calls for mitigation. What surprised her most was that she actually wanted to appease him and to such extent she was facing the realisation she would let him spank her. Rising, she shuffled around the table on her wobbly legs.

“Lift up your skirts,” he told her. Once again, the authority of his voice astounded her. It seeped into her mind and ate away at the defiance.

She tried another attempt at mitigation. “Can’t you spank me over them?”

He smiled for a second. “Claire, what purpose would that serve when I wish you to show humility? Now be a good girl and don’t argue with me. Lift up your skirts to your waist.”

Heat bloomed into her face and she hunched her shoulders in shame. “I’m not wearing drawers. I had no clean drawers. I left my luggage at the tavern in Garve.”

“I know. The cart arrived earlier. The innkeeper is a good fellow. Now, you’ll have clean drawers and clothes, but after I have tanned your bare hide.”

She’d dreamed of undressing for him. A slow, seductive divesting and instead, she had the ignominy of hitching up her gown and petticoats, bundling them before her and showing her stockingless legs and bottom cheeks.

“Come, come, Claire. You’ve a bonny arse to show me.”

“Sir!” His vulgar term had surprised her. He never spoke so uncouthly before now.

“I shall say it again—a bonny arse that needs to be disciplined. Bend over my lap and grip the chair legs. Now.”

Aghast, and close to crying, she tipped forward and lay over his thighs. He supported her as she shifted into position. He unravelled her skirts and a cool waft of air hit her between the thighs. She squashed them together and prayed he could not see what lay between them.

Felix rested his hand on her bottom. The warmth of his hand permeated quickly through her shivering flesh. Nerves had caused a flurry of goose bumps to rise up across her body. His hand felt huge and weighty, not the hand of a gentleman.

“I shall give you a warm-up with my hand, then when I deem you ready, I shall take a spoon and drum it upon your tender behind until you appreciate what a bad lass you’ve been.”

Claire clutched the chair legs and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The only reason she was doing this was because he had asked her and if she had any say in what might happen to her in the coming days, any chance of convincing him to let her stay, she had to show willingness to obey him.

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Manic Readers


How are you celebrating Robbie Burns Day?

January 25th is Robbie Burns Day and our small branch of clan Campbell is ready. At sunset we will don our traditional clothes, a kilt for him, a red velvet gown for me. We’ll pour a dram of scotch each, take our dinner from the oven, and settle on the sofa in the living room. Gavin will put a match to the fire and we’ll read Burns’ poetry to each other while bathing in the warmth from the hearth. We will attempt to read the Scottish versions and one of us will fail miserably.

No haggis will be served.

It will be an evening of laughter and dreaming. The entire time I will be mindful of the thick leather belt that runs around the top of my handsome husband’s kilt. He has never used it on me but there have been close calls. It creates a nice level of tension between us and whenever he brings it out, I straighten to attention.

I’m sure these awful belts must be the basis of the tawse that at one time were an integral part of the corporal punishment system in Scotland. Over thirty years ago, the tawse was outlawed for use on children in Scotland, as it should have been.

However consenting adults only have to search the internet to buy a tawse of their own.

Surely as long as Gavin has the belt from his kilt, there is no need for one in our house. Is there?