Submission

Fool's Desire by Poppy Flynn

Today I’m pleased to welcome new Blushing Books author Poppy Flynn to my blog, with her new book, Fool’s Desire.

Meet the members of Club Risqué and follow their D/s exploits as love worms its way into even the kinkiest hearts.

Blurb:

As a bubbly art student, Daisy Kidde embarked on a BDSM relationship that ended in tears.

Eleven years later, she has reinvented herself as the aloof finance director, Desirae Harper, but the past threatens to catch up with her and turn her quiet, reserved world upside down when her company is threatened with a takeover bid and the dominant Joel Blackwood walks back into her life.

Can she resist him or will the old Daisy return, threatening her new, quiet life?

Publisher's Note: Fool’s Desire is intended for mature readers. 18 and over only! Scenes include spanking adult women and explicitly sexual situations. If such content may offend, please do not buy this book. 

Buy link: Amazon

Excerpt:

Thwack! The blunt ended fronds of the soft suede flogger skittered against the taut skin of her softly rounded buttocks. The air displaced again, this time a prickling on the backs of her tanned thighs as they swiftly bloomed a dusky pink under repeated, expertly placed blows.

Daisy's unruly mop of dirty blonde corkscrew curls dampened as sweat and desire slickened her petite, curvy body and her breath hitched. The flogger rained across her sensitised skin, but not a single, audible sound passed her lips. Arms and legs unbound as her torso stretched across the plush spanking bench, she remained statue still, concentrating her mind to allow her body to absorb the blows without so much as a flinch because that was what Joel required. That was how he had trained her.

Her stomach clenched as he changed direction and landed the flogger's strands at the apex of her spread legs, causing her reddened thighs to quiver and her bare pussy to gush as the tiny pinpricks of pain morphed into ribbons of pleasure.

Despite her libertine surroundings and the licentious audience in the dimly lit Club Risqué, Daisy did not view Joel as her Dom nor see herself as his submissive. He was simply her boyfriend. She loved him beyond measure, and she would do anything for him. She did do anything for him; she did this for him and she strived to be as perfect as she possibly could because it made him happy.

As Daisy began to float in what she privately referred to as her 'happy place', she was dimly aware of the change of sensation. The deeply massaging fronds of the flogger were replaced by the sharper, pinpointed strike of the crop. Slap, slap, slap, slap…the noise rang rhythmically in Daisy's altered state of consciousness as if from a distance. Joel maintained a steady but swift pace across her increasingly sensitive behind as he played out a pattern of rosy splashes, branding her smooth skin, up and down, side to side, never overlapping.

Daisy could feel a prickle of need spreading up her spine, a sultry perspiration blooming at the back her neck, a treacherous warmth mushrooming in her abdomen as Joel aimed the crop between her legs and skilfully targeted her clitoris. Slap, slap, slap, slap, Daisy gritted her teeth and screwed up her eyes as she fought to internalise all of her raging lust and desire in a desperate battle to stay as still and as quiet as Joel always demanded while her clit hardened and peeked from behind its protective hood and each smart of pain transmuted into an insidious pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her senses as her body begged for the forbidden release.

More about Poppy Flynn:

Poppy Flynn was born in Buckinghamshire, UK and moved to Wales at eight years old with parents who wanted to live the 'self-sufficiency' lifestyle.

Today she still lives in rural Wales and is married with six children.

Poppy's love of reading and writing stemmed from her parents’ encouragement and the fact that they didn't have a television in the house.

"When you're surrounded by fields, cows and sheep, no neighbours, no TV and the closest tiny village is four miles away, there's a certain limit to your options, but with books your adventures and your horizons are endless." – Poppy Flynn

#Saturday spankings - constant craving

Thanks for joining the writers on the Saturday Spanking blog hop.

This weekend I’m sharing bits from Trusting Ingrid.

Ingrid has spent her entire life looking after number one. Charming when she needs to be, she can lie more persuasively than an Academy-award winning actor. After all, society’s rules don’t apply to her.

If her outrageous behavior made her happy, it wouldn’t be so bad. But she’s a desperate woman, wrestling with alcoholism and not winning the battle.

In this scene, she had just accepted Lachlan’s offer to help her get her life on track.

Lachlan, a man with a commitment to rehabilitating feral, frightened creatures, is taking her in hand. This is her first spanking.

From Trusting Ingrid, book 3 in the Romancing the Coast series:

Lachlan shimmied his right hand under Ingrid’s hips, forcing her bottom in the air before cramming a pillow under to hold her backside high.

“You have a beautiful ass,” he said.

Ingrid relaxed at the compliment, not expecting the fierce smack that followed. It echoed in the room, for a second drowning out the sound of the fire.

She yelped as the pain sank in. A second stroke followed. Then another, more intense with a sharper bite. The amount of burn he could deliver with his wide palm and long fingers defied belief. He must be using an implement she hadn’t seen. Surely a man’s simple hand couldn’t hurt so much.

She gulped. “No.”

Lachlan stopped. “Those weren’t strong enough to hurt a fly, which is why the color of your bottom will be the deciding factor of when you’ve had enough.”

He sounded amused, as if he was nothing more than a masseuse working through a stubborn knot in a muscle.

“If I listened to your complaints, I’m sure I’d have to stop after a few strokes.”

The air stuck in Ingrid’s lungs as she braced herself for what was coming next.

One smack followed another after that, so closely paced, it was impossible to know where the pain from one ended, and the next one began. Ingrid wheezed from the shock and sting. The pre-heating in front of the fire now magnified every stroke as Lachlan’s hand fell relentlessly on her bottom. First one cheek, then the other. Then what felt like a dozen on one side before a dozen more on the other. She wriggled and danced on his lap, reaching back to stop him. He pinned her hands to the small of her back without breaking the pace of the punishment.

She wanted it. She hated it. She wanted him in control like that. She wanted to be helpless, to surrender to his will. She craved the lack of control.

Buy link – Amazon

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