Head's Up

I don't know how many of you read Lil's Submissive Sanctuary, but if you are new to her, you don't know that she writes some incredible poetry.  If you've never visited before or never visit her again, you have to go over to read today's poem, 
The Memories Which Have Forgotten Me.

I'm sure you agree, it is awesome.  Stay tuned for more Aimless Ramblings.

Renee Rose Presents

Today I'm deviating from my usual Monday post of a short story by me to featuring a snippet of one of my favorite authors, Renee Rose. If you have ever read any of her books, you know she is a terrific writer.  I love her characters and story lines, whether its westerns, regency, paranormal or in this case, modern mobster.  Mob Mistress is the second in her Bossman series.  So without further do, here's Renee

Thank you so much for inviting me over to share about my newest book, Mob Mistress. I decided to go ahead and share the real deal today instead of just teasing. So for all you lovers of belt spankings (like me), this is for you!

“Go in the bedroom and take off your clothes.”

He followed her and watched her undress. Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled off her blouse. There was nothing sexy about stripping for him this time, though her body did not get the message, her skin heating under his gaze.

“All of them?” she croaked.

He nodded.

She unhooked her bra and tossed it on the floor, then stepped out of her panties.

He unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the loops.

She took a step backward. She had never been whipped in her life, and fear turned her hands icy.

He grabbed both the pillows from the bed and stacked them on top of one another at the side. “Lay over these.”

Her heart hammered in her chest, panic welling. Her feet did not move. He frowned at her, but then his expression softened, as if he registered her fear.

“It’s okay, Lex. It’s just a spanking.”

His reassurance eased her anxiety and she stumbled forward, climbing over the pillows to lie down as he instructed. Her face flamed as she settled into the humiliating position, her bare ass high in the air, perfectly situated for his punishment.

He wound the buckle end of his belt around his fist, and she tried to contain her anxiety by biting the bedspread. She heard the sound a split second before she felt the first lick of leather across her ass, the line of fire surprising her with its sting, but not nearly as terrible as she had feared. She jumped as he laid down the next stripe and the following. Again and again he brought the belt down, burning her bare flesh with each stroke. She wriggled and rolled under the continuous onslaught and found herself counting strokes as a way of managing the intensity. After the first twenty, it got easier, the shock wearing away as her entire bottom now flamed. After twenty-five, though, panic returned.

“Please! I’m sorry!” she gasped.

Bobby did not answer, just continued snapping the leather across her tender cheeks.

“Bobby! Please! Please?” She reached her hand back and tried to cover her vulnerable backside, but he caught her wrist and bent it behind her back, restraining her.

“The spanking is over when I decide, Lexi.”

Something about his words and the way he pinned her down and continued spanking flipped a switch in her, desire flaring alongside the pain. She wanted him to go on, wanted more of his cruel leather, the bite of his belt morphing into something almost pleasurable. Almost, but not quite.

She struggled against his hold, her hips undulating more wantonly now. “Please,” she begged, though she hardly knew what she wanted. “Please.”

He continued whipping her and she began to cry, the eruption of tears an unexpected release. He slowed his pace. “Do you call me at home, Lex?”

“Never,” she sobbed.

“Do you talk about me with other people? Give out my number?”

“No, sir!” She didn’t know where the sir had come from — she had never lived in the south or with military types, but it rolled out with the respect he had just earned.

“Good girl,” he said, releasing the wrist he’d pinned and stroking his hand down the length of her back to rest on her twitching buttocks.

She moaned at his touch, lost in the sensations of pain and need. She found him beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms. She snuggled in tightly, breathing the scent of him, dampening his expensive shirt with her tears. She felt his lips on her hair, and he continued to run his hands up and down her back and over her heated bottom.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

“It’s forgiven,” he murmured.

Nestled against him with the soothing motion of his hands over her bare skin, she drifted to sleep.  She didn’t know how long she slept — probably only a few minutes, because she woke in the same position, Bobby still cradling her.

“I’m really sorry, Bobby,” she repeated.

“Enough,” he said, grasping her jaw and pulling her face to meet his. For a moment she thought the aggression was anger, but then she caught the dark in his eyes and realized it stemmed from passion.

So what do you think?  Pretty hot, huh.  Read the blurb and then click on one of the buy links.  You will not be disappointed.

Mob Mistress blurb

When hair stylist Lexi Tyler finds herself evicted from her apartment, her best friend sets her up with the mobster Bobby Manghini, knowing he likes to play sugar daddy. He offers her a luxury apartment overlooking the city and spending cash every time he sees her, but one thing is clear: he is the bossman.

Lexi soon discovers Bobby backs up his rules with firm, over the knee discipline, but he also takes responsibility for all her problems, giving her more support than she ever dreamed of having from a man

Mobster Bobby Manghini likes to be the man in control, particularly with women, which is why he prefers a mistress for sex, even though he’s no longer married. When he strikes a deal with Lexi to be at his beck and call, he finds in her the full package -- a hot, intelligent woman who is turned on by his dominance and willing to submit to his punishment. But when she finds out he doesn’t have a wife, she is hurt by the deception and severs all ties.

Can he prove to her their relationship meant more than a business arrangement? Or will he lose the one woman willing to give him everything he ever desired?

Publisher’s Note: This book contains spanking, anal sex and hot scenes that may keep you up late reading.

Amazon   Amazon UK  ARe Barnes & Noble

and...

The Bossman is still only $.99!  snap it up, because the sale won't last long!

Renee Rose is a naughty author and kinkster who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance/submission and power exchanges. Named Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, her books are all centered around kink, namely: spanking. She also writes BDSM under the name Darling Adams.

She can be found on:

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Next week we will return to our normal scheduled programming.  See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Don't Give Up

Lightening Strikes

Hello - not much going on here.  Have a good week and hope you enjoy the story.


He might be the one; she thought to herself, when she saw him.  He was trudging up long dirt driveway leading to her house, a black-and-white  dog trotting along beside him   She was the recipient of her grandma’s  second sight; and often knew what was coming, often times it was good, sometimes it wasn’t. 

“Can I help you?” she asked as he got close enough to hear her shout.  People didn’t usually come out this way often, and she couldn’t be too careful since she lived here alone and there weren’t any neighbors in shouting distance. 

“My truck broke down on the highway, saw this dirt drive and took a chance. Can I use your phone?”

“Don’t have one.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.  How does someone in this day and age not have a phone?”

“It costs money to string poles this far out.”

“Ever hear of cell phones?”

“Why pay money for something I don’t need.  Besides, where’s yours if everyone has one?”

He blew off that question.  He didn’t want to tell her he threw the damn thing out the window when his manager kept calling. 

“I guess I picked the wrong dirt road then, didn’t I?”

“Guess so.”

“Can Buck and me at least get a drink of water.  We’re parched from all this walking.”

“There’s a hose out back.  Help yourself.” 

She watched him walk toward the back of the house.  He was tall and well built.  His sandy colored hair stuck out from beneath his well-worn Stetson.

He and his dog came around front.  He obviously used the hose for more than a drink;  his wet sandy colored hair was dripping down his forehead and down his neck and Buck was completely soaked.  

“You live here by yourself?” he asked and where normally this comment would raise the hairs on the back of her neck; it didn’t.

“Why?”

“I noticed there are things that need tending.  If you need a hand, I would be willing to trade room and board for my handyman services.”

“Are you down on your luck?”

“No, but if you’re worried about me, don’t.  We’re fine, well at least, we will be once I get my truck fixed.  How far is it to town?”

“I’m just wondering why you were on that road in the first place?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I like to stay off the main roads and out of the mainstream.”

“Gottcha, but I should warn you the sheriff’s deputy stops by on his way home every day so if you’re in….

She never finished the statement when he piped in with “I am not on the run.  Buck and I were just looking for some peace and quiet.  We planned to camp and hangout, and the damn truck chose now to take a shitter.  Why does the sheriff come by every day?”

“As you told me that’s none of you business but we went to high school together, and he lives up the road.  He likes to keep tabs on me since I’m out here alone with no phone.  If you’re still here when he comes by he can help with the truck.”

“Whether I’m still here or not depends on you.”

“I could use the help. There’s a room in the back of the barn, you and Buck can sleep there. Breakfast and dinner are at 6:00.  Eat hearty at breakfast because I don’t do lunch.”

“I’m Sarah Miller,” she told him extending her hand.

“I’m Wes Wilson,” as he shook her hand.  That’s the first time he’d used his real name for a while – he was Stevie Carson in his professional life.  Stevie Carson of The Carson  Wranglers,  a successful country/western band that had been touring the country for what seemed like years to him.  He told their manager. he needed a break but Dick Jenkins went ahead and booked them for another three months anyway.  He blew his top when Dick told him, and he just left the tour.  He flew home, packed up a few things, grabbed Buck and took off in his truck. He’d been on the road for two days when the truck broke down.

‘You’ve seen what needs to be done, so do what you feel capable of doing.”  She told him before she walked off in the direction of the house.  He figured her to be about 30 to 35 and could tell she was used to working outdoors.  Her skin had that permanent tan look about it – not out of a bottle, or a tanning booth.  Her nails and cuticles were clean and cared for, but her hands were working hands.  She was tall and willowy, strawberry-blond hair pulled back into a braid, with wisps escaping to frame her face.  Her eyes of the palest blue were direct and looked right through you.  She wore jeans so faded to  almost appear white, a cotton tee shirt that clung to her in all the right places and boots that had seen better days. 

He worked all day and by 4:30 he was exhausted.  He hadn’t done physical labor in a long time, and every bone in his body ached.  He was taking a drink from the hose when she called out to him.

“I’ve made some lemonade, care to join me?”

As he sauntered over; she watched his slow, easy gait and oogled that long lean body.  He had removed his shirt to work, and before he slipped it back on, she took note of that six-pack and those muscled arms and large hands.  She wondered what it would feel like to be pressed up against that hard body and have those hands caressing her breasts, cupping her bottom. Stop it, she told herself.

He took the lemonade and collapsed onto the porch swing.

“How did you come to be out here all by yourself?”

“This place belonged to by grandparents and then my parents.  They organically farmed long before it became the in thing.  My parents were killed in a plane crash a couple of years ago, and I’ve been alone since.  I’ve tried to keep up as best I can.  I hire help when I can afford it, but mostly I’m by myself.  I have lots of repeat customers; my herbs and vegetables are the favorite of some of the better restaurants in the area, and I sell my wool to a private party who makes and markets her own products.”

He took a gulp of the lemonade, and some splashed onto his lip.  He slipped out his tongue to catch the droplets, and her breath caught in her throat.  It was a long time since she’d lain with anyone; her vibrator her only constant companion for far too long.

He finished his lemonade and told her he was calling it a day; he needed a shower.  He stepped off the porch, and as she watched him walk to the barn; her body tingled and felt a surge of wetness in her panties. 

He felt her eyes on him and hadn’t missed the catch of her breath earlier.  She was a woman in need of some loving; he knew he could fill that need; the question was would she want more than he had to give.  

Wes was in desperate need of a shower and was surprised to find clean linens and towels along with an old chambray shirt tossed on a chair.  He didn’t expect to find anything so he was surprised she had thought of it.   He used the towels and the shirt; rinsed out his tee-shirt and shorts, so they’d be clean and dry for tomorrow. Tonight he’d go commando, and his jeans and socks would have to make do until he got to his truck.

The smells wafting from the kitchen made his mouth water as he walked to the house. It was a long time since breakfast.  He envied Buck who was already chowing down his dinner bowl on the porch.

He heard a car and saw a patrol car pull up.  Jeff Kincaid gave him the once over as he stepped out and onto the porch.  “That truck out there belong to you?” Wes expected the third degree and was surprised when he didn’t get any other questions.  What Wes didn’t know was that Jeff had called in a wants and warrants on the license plates and found no problems.

“Yeah, Buck and I trudged back here in hope of a phone, and well you know how that worked out.”  Jeff laughed.  “Jeff Kincaid here, and you are?”  “Wes Wilson. Nice to meet you and before you leave, can you call a tow truck for me?” 

“Sure. You sticking around for a bit?” he asked while placing the call.

“Yeah, til the truck gets fixed.  This place looks like it could use some TLC, and Sarah is willing to give me room and board in exchange for some of my brawn.”

Jeff was talking to someone about getting a tow out to Sarah’s place and asking where he wanted it towed.  “To whoever can fix the damn thing” was his reply. Sarah joined them on the porch to let Wes know dinner was ready.  “There’s plenty if you want to stay Jeff,” she offered.  He declined, got in his patrol car and drove off.

“You’ve got clean up, by the way,” she told him as she reached over to hand him the basket of biscuits. He caught a whiff of her scent, all clean and fresh and felt a stirring down below.  She wasn’t the only one in need of some loving.

 “Sounds good.  Dinner smells delicious.”

Wes rocked back in his chair and rubbed his tummy.  “You’re a good cook.”

“Thanks.” She started to ear her ice cream and Wes was mesmerized.  Each lick of the spoon drove him to distraction.  She lick the front and back after every spoonful and each time her tongue cleaned the spoon his mind traveled to other things she could do with that tongue. The electric current between them was palpable, and they both felt the charge.

“You keep teasing me that way, and you’re going to be in trouble.” She looked at him, all innocent, but those blue eyes told a different story and took another spoonful of ice cream.  Except this time, she flicked it at him across the table, and it landed smack between his eyes.  Her laugh sounded like tinkling bells.  He rose up from the chair, and she took off running.  “It’s no use; I'm going to catch you and when I do you’re going to be sorry,” he told her laughingly.

Catching her, he held her close as she tried to get away.  “Be a good girl.” 

“Or what.”

“Or I’ll have to spank you.”  He saw her reaction to those words and felt his pants tighten.

“Do you promise?”

“Oh yeah.”

“In that case,” she hauled off and kicked him in the shins.

“That does it; you are a naughty girl.”  He picked her up and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  Carrying her down the hall, he kept opening doors until he found a room with a bed.  He plopped down and brought her across his lap undoing the button on her jeans and pushing them down as he did so.  She rose to assist him, and as she did he noticed she was already ready for him. His big hands explored the beautiful white of her bottom, rubbing, teasing, massaging before bringing down the first sharp slap on one cheek and then another.  Sarah uttered a low guttural growl as his fingers brushed other tender places before his large palm descended on her bottom in a flurry of spanks giving those cheeks  a warm rosy glow. With each break in the steady stream of slaps, she would raise up her bottom begging for more.  He would rub and tease until she literally begged for more. His final onslaught was fast and furious; each spank harder than the one before. He rolled her off his lap and onto the bed.  They were a tangle of mouths and hands, a frenzied exploration of each other.  Clothes that became an obstruction to skin on skin contact, were unceremoniously discarded.  She took hold of him and guided him into her channel, unsheathed, but she didn’t care.  He rolled over bringing her with him so that she was now on top.  He kissed, nipped, and spanked her ass as she rode them both into oblivion.

She rolled off him, and they lay there, the bed a tangled mass of perspiration soaked bed linen and sated bodies.  She reached over to grab his hand; he twined his fingers into hers. There was no need for words.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Man of the House

SEE YOU LATER FOR MORE AIMLESS RAMBLINGS

Warm Up

To those of you freezing in the unbelievably cold temperatures spreading across most of the US and Canada, I offer you something to think about.

Feel the warmth of the sunshine

This chair has your name on it.

                     And for those of you who may just need a little pick me up

Have they helped?  See  you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Cassie's Conflicts

In lieu of a story today, I'm featuring a visit from Cassie Duff aka PK Corey.  Cassie's Conflicts, the fifth book, was scheduled for release today so I invited PK to share the cover and an excerpt. Now because man plans and God laughs, Blushing Books has serious problems with their website and it's been down for days.  It was still down as of midnight when I last checked. The crash has taken down the entire site so Cassie's Conflicts release is delayed.  We're going to have to hang on a little longer to learn more. 

Thanks for having me Sunny! I’m excited about book five, Cassie’s Conflicts coming out. I hope everyone is still enjoying Cassie’s adventures. She certainly has her share of conflict in this latest book, but in this excerpt it’s Allie who manages to get everyone stirred up.

“Cassie, I really hate to bother you so late, but is Allie over there with you? I’ve called her cell forever and she’s not answering. Do you know where she is?”

I sat down with a smile, grateful to release my worries. I laughed at the boy. “Ryan, I swear you are as bad as Tom. She’s safe and sound in her bed. I saw her come home around nine o’clock and she told me she was going to bed early. She probably has her phone off. Just because you’re out of town you’re turning into a regular worrywart. Allie’s fine.”

“Cassie,” Ryan’s voice sounded agitated. “I’m not at school. I decided to drive back tonight. I’m standing in Allie’s bedroom. Her car’s here, her bag’s here, but she’s not.”

A shot of adrenalin hit me hard. I nearly dropped the phone as I turned to Tom. “She’s gone! Someone’s taken Allie! Tom, we have to call the police.”

Tom took the phone from me and listened for a minute. “Come over here, son. We’ll figure out what’s going on.”

“Why aren’t you calling the police? Someone’s taken her, we have to do something.” Tom wasn’t nearly as agitated as I needed him to be.

“Hang on, girl. Let’s talk to Ryan.” We headed to the screen porch and let the boy in.

Ryan’s face was tense. “She doesn’t have her phone either.” He said holding it up. “Why would she leave her bag and her phone?”

I was beside myself. “Tom, we have to call the police! Something’s happened to her. She wouldn’t go off without her money or her phone and she told me she was staying home.” Tom was making no move to the phone and I was getting angry with him. “What’s wrong with you, why aren’t you doing anything?” Ryan looked like he agreed with me completely.

“Cassie, calm down. I’m wondering where Allie is, but I don’t think anything’s happened to her.”

“How can you be so calm?” I demanded.

“Let’s just say I’ve had experience with a beautiful woman that I love not being where she said she was going to be and intentionally misleading me.” Tom spoke calmly. “We’re talking about an eighteen year old girl whose parents are out of town and whose boyfriend is away for the weekend, going out somewhere. I just don’t believe someone came into her home in this neighborhood and grabbed her.”

“You think she’s out with another guy?” Ryan looked like someone had just punched him.

Tom smiled at him. “No, Ryan, that’s not what I’m thinking, but I bet she’s gone out with some girlfriends. Can you think of anything they want to do or somewhere Allie has mentioned going with her friends?”

“I can’t think of anything. I’ve called her friends – the ones whose numbers I have anyway, but no one’s answering tonight.” Ryan was starting to sound really annoyed.

I was still just worried. “Tom, you don’t know that she’s off with friends. What if something has happened? We can’t just sit here. I’m going out looking for her if you two won’t.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tom said sternly. But he softened when he realized just how upset I was. “Let me call over to the police station and see if Brandon’s working tonight.” Brandon Weeks is a wonderful deputy who is a fixture in our neighborhood. Finally luck was with us and Brandon was soon on the phone with Tom. Tom told him what was happening with Allie, including his feelings that she was probably with friends. Tom listened for a long time, his face growing more and more serious.

“I see,” he finally said. “When did all this happen?” He listened a bit longer then said, “But you didn’t see Allie? Okay, I see. You’ll call us if you see her won’t you?” Tom hung up and turned to us. “It seems there was a big rave at one of the old warehouses in town. Brandon says kids just broke in and took over. The police were called and gathered up some of the partygoers, but most of them scattered to the wind. He didn’t see Allie, but he said that there were probably sixty to seventy kids there.

Oh boy, Ryan looked as angry as I’ve ever seen him. “Allie has talked about those stupid raves they have around here. She said she just wanted to go and see what they were like. But I told her there was no way we were going to one of those things.”

I gulped. I remembered all the times Tom had told me we weren’t going somewhere and the first thing that popped into my mind was ‘fine we won’t, I will’. I suddenly felt terribly guilty about some of the stories Sue and I had shared with Allie over the summer.

I didn’t know what to do. It was after two am and we still knew nothing.

Suddenly Ryan’s head snapped up. “Was that a car door?” It was a windy night and I’d heard nothing.

Ryan was heading to the front door when we all heard what happened next – a car engine revved and then a crash so loud it seem a car must have exploded. Ryan had torn through the front door and sailed off the porch when I heard the scream.

Allie’s scream.

I don't know about you, but I want more and can't wait for the release.


Also, over at my other blog today, writer Angela Sargenti has stopped by to promote her latest book, The Cowboy and The Mail Order Bride. If you get a chance, stop by.

Thanks and see you later for more Aimless Ramblings.