Here is a new book for your e-reader, Sophia and the Duke, by Jaye Peaches.
Let’s get started with a little bit about Jaye, another author published by that fine publishing house, Stormy Night Publications.
Exploring the world of BDSM and romantic kinky lifestyles has been a passion of Jaye Peaches – to portray the desires beyond the erotic sexual encounters and unearth the personalities that lie beneath. Having written short stories and read many books, she issued a challenge to herself and decided to write her own novels of Domination and submission.
When not writing, Jaye is busy spending time with her family, enjoying music, sometimes composing or drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.
Jaye lives in NW England.
Here is the product description for the book.
After the passing of her husband, the elderly Duke of Brockenhurst, twenty-two-year-old Sophia chafes at her family’s expectations during her lengthy mourning period. When she is free to re-emerge in society at last, at her grandmother’s insistence she entertains the courtship of Nathaniel Hartwell, a distant cousin of the old duke and the man next in line for the title.
To her shock, Sophia learns that Nathaniel has spent the last eight years living as a trapper and fur trader in the mountains of Canada, isolating himself from the world after the tragic death of the woman he loved. Though he is a rough, uncivilised man, his devilishly handsome looks and commanding presence excite her in a way nothing ever has before.
Sophia sets out to transform the new duke into someone suitable for polite society, but when her comments become disrespectful and mocking Nathaniel takes issue with her behaviour. Almost before she knows it, she is over his lap and her aristocratic bottom has been bared for a sound spanking.
Knowing that it is the right choice for all concerned, Nathaniel asks her to be his wife, but despite the fact that their marriage begins as one of convenience he is determined to show Sophia the intense pleasure a strong man’s dominant lovemaking can bring her. Though her spoiled attitude occasionally earns her a bright red, well-spanked bottom, as the weeks pass her desire for him grows ever stronger. But can love truly bridge the gulf between people from such different worlds?
So that’s interesting. It sounds like The Deerslayer meets Pride and Prejudice, a tale of a spoiled socialite who attempts to “Henry Higgins” our stalwart Hawkeye into polite society, sort of a “My Fair Backwoods Ruffian.”
Fortunately for Nathaniel, the birch is still a very popular and handy tool for dealing with spoiled socialites, as this steamy excerpt shows:
[Nathanial, Duke of Brockenhurst, has taken his young bride to briefly live in a forest. A man who once lived as a fur trapper in Canada, he knows much about nature. When he catches Sophia picking poisonous berries, having warned her not to, he decides the best course of action to help her remember not to do it again….]
Nathanial looked up at the sky. “Come and stand over here, in this glade.”
She stood where he directed, confused by his request. “Why?”
“It is much warmer here in the sunshine and I want you to take off your clothes.”
Nathanial lay down his rifle and rabbits, then removed his jacket. Sophia fiddled with her laces, unable to enact his command. Her fingers shook with both shock and anger. A part of her hated what he planned to do to her, another secretly found his demeanour quite intoxicating—a different kind of poison to the berries, one that meant her no harm, but could cause her pain.
“Sophia,” he said softly, approaching from behind. “Let me help.”
He unlaced her bodice, releasing her constricted ribcage and she inhaled deeply, trying to gather her nerves. “Please,” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean… I don’t want to be punished.”
“Of course you don’t,” he said. He slipped the straps of her shift off her shoulders and it slid down her back. “Neither do I. However, you are my wife and will do as you’re told.”
She stepped out of the shift and hugged her arms about her breasts. The chilly air caressed her skin, while the sun beating down from on high landed on her back and shoulders. Both tussled with her and she couldn’t describe herself as either warm or cold.
“You need warming up,” he said, as if to read her mind.
“Can I put my gown back on?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I meant your bottom needs warming up.”
Her mouth formed a circle.
Nathanial pointed at a fallen tree with its bark covered in thick moss. “Lie over that.”
Her feet refused to budge. Were the birds laughing at her? Would an audience of little forest creatures come out to watch her bare bottom being spanked? Nathanial pressed his hand into the small of her back, and she walked over to the trunk with him by her side.
“I know what makes it difficult—your nudity. However, there is nobody here but us.”
“I feel vulnerable,” she whispered, trying to shrink her stature into a small size.
He tilted her chin up. “As you should. That is why trust is very important. I’m taking care of you, even when I discipline you, I am in charge. That is what this chastisement is about. Now, over you go.”
She reached out with her hands, feeling her way down. The moss provided a soft covering, protecting her from the bark, but it was cold and damp and she whimpered. Her feet remained on one side and she perched on tiptoe, while on the other side, she sank her hands into the grass. When he took hold of her legs and parted them, she gasped. The air swooped into her creases and folds, kissing her with its coldness.
“I’m going to spank you with my hand until you’re ready.”
Ready for what? What did he mean? She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sudden cry when he smacked her bottom.
She wanted to leap up and march away. In that instance, as he started to spank her, she couldn’t understand what kept her in place. A duchess, one of the highest ranked individuals of the land, bent over a tree, naked and spanked by a man who only a year ago lived with the beasts.
“No,” she wailed as his hand continued to rain down.
His slaps came quickly, but not hard, as if they bounced off her rotund cheeks. She jolted, paddling her legs and pulling at the blades of grass with her fingers. Her bottom flared into a pool of heat, while between her sore cheeks, the breeze continued to tickle.
Nathanial ceased and leant over her. “Good girl. But I don’t think you will truly learn how to be responsible unless I thrash you.”
“Thrash me!” She aimed her cry over her shoulder at him.
“Yes. You do not lie to me, Sophia. If you’re afraid, you tell me; if you don’t understand, you speak of your concerns.” He drew her up onto her wobbly legs and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me now, what are you feeling—afraid?”
No. She didn’t fear him. She knew she trusted him, and that she had to prove he could trust her. “I feel anxious that I won’t be able to take my punishment and that you think less of me for lying.” She blinked back the tears.
“Punishments are not meant to be easy to endure, but they shouldn’t be terrible. Have you witnessed a switching before now?”
She snatched a breath of alarm. A birch! Truth was, she had. “My younger brother, who lives with my parents in the West Indies, he made much trouble for his tutor. My father gave permission for him to be thrashed.”
“Was it something you watched?”
“No. I heard.”
“Did your brother improve in his behaviour?”
“From what I knew, he tried harder at his lessons.”
Nathanial smiled, rubbing his palms up and down her arms. “I won’t think less of you ever, my dear. Go stand and face that tree, over there. Close enough to touch it with your nose.”
She faced the bark and waited as behind her, she heard the sounds of Nathanial’s preparations. What had happened to her? For years she had been trained to be a grand person, to entertain and offer discourse on suitable subjects. Now, out in the woods, her bottom already on fire, she faced a whipping. Yet, she hadn’t stormed off or argued with her husband, because something about his firm behaviour stripped away her defiance.
Her apparent meekness surprised her. Whatever she thought in her head was at odds with how her body responded. Her nipples stood out like darkened pebbles, her sex clenched, and when she rubbed her thighs together, the wetness spread down them. She began to enjoy the cooling air as it moved about her, heightening her senses. Sniffing, fighting back the tears, she smelt pine needles, wild garlic, and other natural perfumes. The birds sang, oblivious to her circumstances and in the distance, the brook tinkled with the sound of running water. How could this be happening to her in such a placid place?
Nathanial, she spied from the corner of her eye, had chosen his thin rods, whittling away the leaves and thorns off the small branches with his hunting knife. He bundled them together and gripped one end of the switch. About half a dozen sticks formed his implement. When he swished it through the air in practise swings, the noise made her flinch.
“Put your hands on the tree, lean forward, and stick out your bottom. Keep your legs together. I don’t want to catch your delicate areas.”
She complied, turned on by his firm tone and unwavering attitude towards her punishment. Perhaps, deep down, buried beneath her fine ways, airs, and graces, she wanted to be a common girl with a rugged husband, who would take her in hand and she would be his in every way possible.
Underneath her reticence, she wanted to be spanked and submit to him. She knew it was her fantasy, and today, it had become real.
He altered the angle of her hips, forcing her out further and she had to stretch to reach the trunk. Her feet rested on her tiptoes once again. He rubbed her hot bottom, then stood away from her.
“Six,” he declared.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. The title she gave him, lesser than what he was entitled to hear, helped sink her deeper into a quiet place of acceptance.
“Good,” he murmured softly. “I like what I’m seeing.”
The first lash of his makeshift birch struck across her cheeks with a crack. What she felt was a multitude of stings as each thin rod made contact with her bottom. She expected another, but Nathanial waited as she struggled to regulated her breathing and hold her position.
As she calmed, he touched her bottom, tracing what must be thin lines of marks. She couldn’t see, but she felt the heat of each and every one of them.
Another whoosh and the second landed slightly lower, almost on her upper thighs. She hopped up, stomping her feet on the ground. The cry came as a delayed reaction to the pain. No longer did she sense stings; the birch had left an impression of fire.
“Two,” he announced. “Take your time. I’m not rushing this.”
She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
A minute passed, allowing her to focus her eyes on the pattern of the bark, and to dismiss all other distractions. Something unexpected was happening to her and she couldn’t begin to assimilate the new emotions. She actually wanted this; no, needed it. All those horrible things she’d said to him over the past few weeks, the humiliating ways she’d put him down in public shamed her greatly. Nathanial, an honourable gentleman with an unusual past, was at heart a caring soul who treated her well.
Percy might have been a regal kind of duke, but he showed no interest in Sophia’s life or happiness beyond clothes and jewels. After a year of marriage he’d failed to win her heart. Nathanial had swiftly gained her devotion, however, not through showering her with trinkets or unnecessary possessions, but with his time and passionate lovemaking.
Earlier, she thought about running away from Nathanial. Now, she knew she couldn’t. She loved him too deeply.
“I’m ready.” She lifted her head up and eased her bottom into position.
Yeouch! Maybe she’ll think twice now about getting on him about trapping hedgehogs on the estate grounds and scolding him about how to set the silver properly. Thanks, Jaye.