Pendragon’s Lash on sale



It won’t last long, so get it fast. Pendragon’s Lash, my sci-fi/medieval erotic spanking romance, is on sale at Amazon for just a few days for 99 cents. That is a whale of a deal.


Here is an excerpt:

They built the fire close enough to a rear entrance that a draft carried the smoke away. Everyone stripped off wet outer clothing and hung it up to dry next to the fire. She could not help but notice Rhys’s muscular build, the powerful arms, the solid chest, the flat abdominals that were illuminated by the flickering fire as darkness fell. It brought back that night in the woods, and she felt a surge of desire. She could see that Iris noticed Trevor, too. Not as solidly built as Rhys, Trevor was nonetheless lean and well-muscled.

After they’d eaten, Elana tested her dress, which hung from a pole. It was dry enough, she decided, and she started to put in on.

“You won’t need that,” said Rhys. Elana turned around to behold Rhys standing next to a trestle. He was holding a strip of leather and absently flicking it against his leg. “At least not for the next few minutes.”

“What do you mean? My clothes are dry now.” But her eyes were drawn to the strap in his hand.

“We’re going to turn in. But before we do, there is the matter of your disobedience.”

“I said I was sorry. How was I to know about that… that thing?”

Rhys shook his head, frowning. “When are you going to learn that I lay down rules for a reason? It’s not just about the ursus. It’s about the mission. I told you Von Ryn could have seen the smoke.”

Elana felt a cold chill up her spine. Once again, this barbarian meant to punish her, and in a most humiliating way. “There was no harm done,” she said, pleading her case. “He never saw anything.”

“Actually, we don’t know that,” said Trevor.

Elana looked at him as if stunned. “You’re taking his side?” she sputtered. “How can you?” She couldn’t believe her own colleague was doing this.

“Because we have a mission,” he said. “You need to learn that this is Pendragon, and what he says goes. Anything that could compromise the mission is not acceptable. So don’t expect me to save you.”

Rhys pointed. “Over the trestle. Take down your drawers. You’ll stay there in position until I tell you to get up.”

Elana huffed. The prospect of an embarrassing punishment like this was unnerving. “This is absurd! It’s humiliating. I won’t!” She crossed her arms in a gesture of defiance.

“Over the trestle,” said Rhys. “If I have to truss you up for this, it will be double. At least retain some dignity and take what you have coming.”

“Best do it,” said Trevor. He looked at Iris, who held her hand at her throat, watching nervously. “You’re next, you know.”

Iris didn’t say anything. She knew better.

“I hate you, Rhys Hollander!” Elana spat. But there was really no choice. She turned around and slipped down the cloth drawers that had shielded her lower body. The ripe moons of her bottom were revealed as the drawers slid down her legs to rest at her ankles. She lowered her torso over the trestle until her midsection rested on the crosspiece. Her hands found a bar connecting the legs and she gripped it. Her toes supported her weight on the other side. It was a shameful pose, like an inverted V, her bare behind pointed upward. She felt mortified, exposing her naked bottom to these men, holding herself ready to take a whipping.

Rhys stepped to her side and measured his distance. The strap was about two feet long and two inches wide. Rhys had found it hanging on a nail and had speculated that its purpose might have been for precisely the chore he was about to perform.

He pulled back his arm and the strap flew back with it, hanging suspended in midair for a split second. Then it accelerated forward in a blur and landed with a loud splat. The sting imparted to Elana’s behind was attested to by the hiss of breath that she drew through her teeth.

Ow! It hurt!

Rhys proceeded to apply a methodical strapping, pausing only briefly between strokes. The strap descended time after time, causing Elana’s bottom cheeks to jiggle in almost constant motion. She drummed her toes against the earthen floor as smack after smack landed on her bounding derriere.

She tried to remain silent, but after a dozen or so strokes, she found her voice. “Ow, Rhys, I’m sorry… Ow! It hurts… please! Ahh… Ow!”

But the sharp cracks of the strap continued. Rhys seemed determined to teach Elana a good lesson. It was as if he thought the previous two punishments had not been severe enough to get the message across, so he was redoubling his efforts here to impress upon her the necessity of obeying orders.

Elana couldn’t stand it. The awful sting was too much. She jumped up, clapping her hands to her bottom, rubbing furiously.

“Ow… Oh… Oww!” she wailed.

“Get back over, Elana. I’m not done yet.”

“I won’t!” she cried. “It hurts too much and you’re awful.”

“You nearly blew our cover,” said Rhys, grabbing her arm. He sat on the trestle and flung Elana over his left knee while he imprisoned her legs with his right. Elana had never been so miserable. Her nose was at the floor and her body was jackknifed across Rhys’s knee.

“Now. We continue,” said Rhys.

The sound of the strap impacting bare flesh continued to echo in the high ceilinged barn, and with it were Elana’s wails and promises. Rhys was doing a very thorough job. Elana’s bottom had sported red stripes at the beginning of the punishment and was now a uniform, almost shiny, vivid red from the tops of her thighs over the crown of her buttocks. She would not sit comfortably for days.

After what must have been four dozen strokes well laid on, Rhys stopped. But he wasn’t done. From his pocket he pulled the small bulb he had carefully peeled earlier. Elana froze as she felt something being inserted into her anus and she shrieked and squirmed.

“What are you doing?” she cried, nearly a shout.

“You’re being figged,” said Rhys casually. “It’s part of your discipline. Relax. You’ll find it’s easier if you do.” He inserted the bulb all the way in. It burned and it was horribly uncomfortable.

“Do… do as he says,” said Iris.

Elana was sobbing. This foreign object was inside her and it wouldn’t come out.

“Now,” he said setting her on her feet. “You’ll wear that for an hour. Stand with your back to the fire, hands on your head. Do not move. You are being punished. I’ll tell you when time is up.”

Sobbing, her bottom on fire and her insides feeling this awful thing inside her, she limply obeyed and waddled over to the fire.

Rhys handed the strap to Trevor.

“Will you do it, or shall I?”

By this time Trevor knew what was expected of a Pendragon male. He looked pointedly at Iris. All this time Iris had watched the proceedings intently. She had known she was next, and the prospect of a strapping was both dreadful and exciting. Each time Trevor had punished her, it had fueled her desire for him. And no wonder. She had instigated both incidents. The sex afterwards had been the most intense she had ever experienced.

But although she knew how having her bare bottom attended to by Trevor made her feel, this was serious. Rhys had given Elana a firm strapping without holding back, and Iris realized that Trevor would have to follow his lead. This would not be a game.

“Iris,” said Trevor and pointed toward the trestle. Iris bit her lower lip and approached the trestle. Without being told she lowered her drawers and prostrated herself across the top bar.

Iris’ strapping was just as long and just as noisy as Elana’s. Trevor swung the strap with authority, striping his charge’s bottom with vivid red weals. The sound of the strap impacting soft flesh echoed in the cavernous barn. Iris was surprised at how badly it stung. The strap was heavy and burned her to her core. Still, she hung on and took what Trevor meted out until she had absorbed close to three dozen harsh strokes. Her bottom burned like it had been lit on fire, and tears rolled down her cheeks. When Trevor told her to rise, she found that she could barely stand. It hurt to move.

Then Rhys showed him how to insert the fig root. For the next hour, the men contemplated the two women, standing with hands on their heads, bare backsides presented to the fire and squirming, trying to deal with the pressure of the hideously uncomfortable anal plugs.

Still, later that night, Iris could not resist taking Trevor into her sleeping furs. Trevor was tender and took his time, and their coupling produced waves of pleasure that blotted out, for a time, the painful throbbing of her bottom globes.


* * *


Elana tried to sleep on her tummy since her bottom was tender and still felt hot. When Rhys tried to comfort her, she pushed him away.

“As you wish,” he said, and rolled up in his own furs. That left Elana alone and feeling even more miserable, especially since she could hear the sounds of Trevor and Iris’ lovemaking. She had to admit, she’d been foolish once again, and as for Rhys’s reaction, well, it was his culture. A female obeyed her male protector, or she was punished like a child.

It was infuriating to a woman who viewed herself as a professional and the equal of any man. In the eyes of Federation law, men and women were equal. No man had the right to treat her as Rhys had done. Well, you’re not on the Bellera, said a little voice in her head. This is Pendragon, and out here the law is what Rhys says it is.

She looked over at Rhys again. He hadn’t been unnecessarily cruel. The strapping had hurt, but it was, after all, just a strapping, inflicted across a part of her body well designed to absorb it without injury. He’d just taught her a lesson for her own good and the good of the mission. The pain in her bottom had by now subsided to a warm glow. And the anal plug. Somehow it had caused her juices to flow. Maybe something in its chemistry. All she knew was that she was now a bubbling stew of desire.

Silently, she got up and slipped naked into Rhys’ furs. He stirred and asked, “What?” But she put a finger to his lips, even as her body slid next to his.

“Just hold me,” she whispered. And with some satisfaction, she felt the hardness of his fully erect penis as she pressed her naked body against his. Soon that penis was thrusting into her vagina, rocking her with waves of pleasure. He locked his lips on hers, even as they rocked back and forth, bodies colliding in the heat of passion. He lowered his head and tongued her nipples, and she gasped at the electric sensation. He gripped the buttocks he had so thoroughly strapped with his large hands, squeezing and fondling, and she winced. But the feeling of an approaching climax was overwhelming. It hit like a tidal wave and she shook uncontrollably. When Rhys withdrew, she snuggled against his chest and fell asleep in his arms, content.



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