Saturday, August 25, 2012


Last post on consensual vs. non-consensual spankings in the stories I write.  I have two where the spankings are non-consensual, and they are the two historical stories.  I didn't plan it that way.  I think it's just that I found it easier to get the characters into a situation where the hero gives the heroine a non-consensual spanking back when relationships between the sexes weren't as equal.

In The Headstrong Miss Henley, an earl enters into an engagement with an ill-bred American girl.  Lord Whitford is basically in it for the money.  (Which sounds so crass and unheroic, but he has sisters to support and an estate with servants to keep afloat.)  Miss Henley's father wants a title for his daughter, Betty.  Betty wasn't consulted, but she's attracted to the earl and longs for a little attention from him.  Although not the kind of attention she gets.  Lord Whitford is humiliated by her lack of decorum, and decides the only way to get her to behave is to spank her.  Non-consensual spankings follow.  Although as their wedding day nears, both she and he have learned that a spanking can be pleasurable as well, and the last spanking is definitely full-on consensual. Here's an excerpt from earlier in their relationship:

                Betty swallowed hard.  You have nothing to fear, she thought.  The earl is a stickler for propriety.  He is nothing if not committed to following every rule, and it is certainly against every rule of society for him to bare as much as my ankle.  She felt somewhat better.  In fact, there was no possibility Lord Whitfield could so much as touch her, ensconced as she was in her own home.  It would be most improper for them to be alone together.  At the ball, he’d been able to whisk her off into the darkened garden, but there would be no opportunity for him to have even a moment alone with her this afternoon.

                When Lord Whitford’s arrival was announced shortly thereafter, Betty was feeling quite ready to see him.  In fact, the stormy expression on his face when he was escorted into the drawing room gave her a thrill of satisfaction.  He’d thought he’d bested her, but he truly knew nothing of the woman he planned to marry.  Betty always gave as good as she got, and usually she managed to give better.

                “How good of you to come to visit, my lord,” Harriet said.  “Let me have some tea and cakes brought in.  We—“

                “That won’t be necessary,” he announced, his tone cold and haughty.  “All I require is a few moments alone with Miss Henley.”

                “Alone?” Harriet repeated.  “My lord, although you are betrothed, I can’t allow you to have that degree of privacy.  I can, however, take my embroidery over into the corner and be quiet as a church mouse.  You shan’t even know I’m there.”

                Betty shot a triumphant glance at the earl. 

                “Are you aware that your charge, a most headstrong young lady, galloped through Hyde Park this afternoon?” Lord Whitford demanded.

                Harriet gave a little start.  “Surely not.  She took her mare out for a ride, accompanied by a groom.”

                “A groom she left in the dust of her mount’s hooves,” Lord Whitford replied.  “I have it on good account.  Several members of my club were most eager to give me every detail.  And that is why I am here.  It is my duty to discipline this young miss for her most unbecoming and most irresponsible display.”  He swept his eyes over Harriet.  “It is your decision whether or not to give me permission to administer the appropriate punishment in private.  But know this, Mrs. Tittle, if you insist on staying, I will be most tempted to take you over my knee once I have seen to Miss Henley’s spanking.  You have proven to be a lax and ineffective chaperon, and in some ways, you are as much to blame for Miss Henley’s  unseemly behavior as she is.”

                Harriet’s mouth opened, then snapped shut.  “You are soon to be her husband, my lord, and I suppose, in the absence of her father, it is appropriate for you to monitor her conduct.”  With that, to Betty’s consternation, her aunt scuttled out of the room, shutting the door behind her.  She had expected more loyalty.

                When the earl turned toward her, Betty had the wild impulse to beg his forgiveness.  Would he believe her if she told him Morgiana bolted and that it had taken all her skill to bring the mare under control?  Would he believe her if she told him that she had confused the Rotten Row etiquette, believing it was five o’clock when horses were allowed a gallop on the bridle path as exercise rather than early in the morning when most of the ton was still abed?

                Don’t you dare grovel or plead, Betty thought.  She forced herself to meet the earl’s gaze, although the effort took almost all her will.  “You have nothing to say for yourself, miss?” Lord Whitfield demanded.  His voice was low, but had the bite of a whip.

                “I don’t believe I do, my lord,”  she answered, hating the tiny quaver she heard in her voice.

                “You don’t believe you do,” he repeated in disbelief.  “Was it not you who only last night gave me a promise of respectable behavior?”

                Betty’s temper rose.  Who was he to lecture her?  He expected respect from her, when he had shown her none.  Did he not consider that it was humiliating for her to attend ball after ball, soiree after soiree unattended by her fiancé?  Did he not understand that if he wished the obedience due to him as the husband he was soon to be that he should treat her as if she was to be his wife, not simply a bag of coin soon to be transferred to him?

                “Perhaps we have a different definition of respectable,” she countered.

                “It is very clear to me that we do, or, if not, that you have no care for my reputation,” Lord Whitford answered.

                His reputation.  Of course.  That was all he cared about, what society thought about him.  He cared nothing for her, that had been made more than evident in these past weeks.

                “To my way of thinking, respectable behavior is at least giving the appearance that you wish to marry your fiancée for more than money.  You wish me to have a care for your reputation, but you have not concerned yourself with mine.  Every time I am seen without you by my side, I can assure you it is noted, whispered and even giggled over.  Did it ever occur to you that perhaps as my betrothed you should have taking me riding in the park at the fashionable hour?”

                Without answering, without another word, the earl removed his gloves, then his jacket, which he draped over the back of the nearest chair.  He sat down on the sofa, and there was no question what he was preparing to do as he pushed up the right sleeve of his lawn shirt.  “Come here, Miss Henley,” he ordered.

                Betty’s knees trembled as she rose, but she walked over to him without hesitation.  If he thought his discipline would bend him to his will, she was determined to prove him wrong.  She would take the punishment he doled out without protest.  He would soon see his methods were ineffective.  She was not a child and his treating her as such would prove fruitless.

                She didn’t wait for him to put her over his knee.  She placed herself across his thighs, hard with muscle, of her own volition, letting her head and torso rest on the cool silk of the sofa.  Betty managed to give a sigh of boredom, determined to show him how little effect he was having on her.  It was harder to act nonchalant when he placed his big hand on her bottom, but she managed to hold her body still. 

                “I had hoped that the spanking I gave you last night would have been enough to convince you to behave yourself,” Lord Whitford began.  “Clearly, I was mistaken, and clearly more severe measures are called for.”

                Betty gulped, hoping the earl hadn’t heard the sound.  She tried to reassure herself with the knowledge that her fiancé was quite proper.  Certainly, her spanking would be longer, and perhaps more forceful, but he wouldn’t follow through on his threat of raising her skirts and petticoats.

                “In addition to the impropriety of your actions this afternoon, do you realize you endangered everyone in your wake?  You could easily have caused a collision, and injured another or yourself.  Do you understand that, young lady?”

                “I am an excellent rider.  I knew I could control my mount,” Betty answered.  She’d wanted to hurt the lord’s reputation, but not harm another in any way.

                Lord Whitfield gave a low curse.  Betty’s stomach tightened.  He was angrier than she’d realized.  “Perhaps you are the horsewoman you claim to be, but everyone in the park is not.  You could easily have spooked the mount of a less experienced rider.”  He pressed his hand more firmly against her bottom.  “This is not the issue at hand.  You and I discussed what was expected of you, and less than a day later, you have defied me.  Tell me, miss, what did I promise would happen if you disobeyed?”

                “You said you would spank me,” Betty replied.  Her mouth was so dry it was hard to get the words out.

                “Yes, and more specifically?” 

                Betty didn’t think she could bear to say the words.  Lord Whitford leaned down until his lips were near her ear.  “If you do not answer me, I promise you I will take your riding crop to you.  I see it right over there beside your chair.  You are quite untidy in addition to your other virtues.”  Sarcasm fairly dripped from his lips.  “Now, what specifically, did I tell you would happen if you disobeyed me?”

                Betty drew in as deep a breath as she  could.  It was difficult.  She felt as if someone were compressing her ribcage.  “Specifically, you said you would pull up my skirt and petticoats, take down my pantalettes, and spank my bare bottom.”  There!  She’d said it.  And she hadn’t sounded at all frightened, or at least not so very much.  He’d see whatever he did would be fruitless, that whatever he did would not change her.

                “Very good.  I wanted to be absolutely certain you were aware of why this is happening.  You obviously knew the consequences of flouting the rules of polite society, and though an American, I believe you are aware that galloping through the park is unacceptable unless it is a groom exercising a horse very early in the morning, are you not?”

                “Yes, I’m aware,” Betty answered.  She wished he’d just get on with it.  Lying here completely in his power was dreadful.  It felt as if her heart had begun to tremble.
                  “Then you must be aware that what is to happen is completely your responsibility.” 

Hmm.  I now find myself confused by my own definitions.  I was thinking of this as completely non-consensual, because Lord Whitford would certainly spank Miss Henley even if she tried climbing up the curtains to get away from him.  And yet, in this scene, she has gone and done exactly what she was told would lead to a spanking, and she's was, in theory, ready to accept the punishment if said behavior would humiliate him in front of society.  So I guess that is consensual.  Semi-consensual?  But it's certainly not as if she agrees that she needs to be spanked or accepts that he has the right to spank her.  So I'm leaving this story in this pile!

In the next story, The Scheming Miss Sinclair, Miss Lucy Sinclair has trapped Lord Reece into marrying her by contriving to have them found alone together at a ball.  As her husband, Gareth, Lord Reece, feels he has the right to spank her whenever he sees fit.  Miss Sinclair does submit to at least some of the spankings, but only because she knows her punishment will be worse if she doesn't.  Which I'd say makes them non-consensual.  (Although, she and her new husband also discover that spankings can be erotic, and there is definitely the implication at the end of the story that they will be indulging in at least some semi-consensual if not completely consensual spankings in the future.)  Here's a look:

            She needed to get away from her bridegroom at once.  If she had to say “yes, sir” or “yes, my lord” one more time she would begin to scream and possibly never stop.  If she had to endure one more spank, she would begin to cry and surely never stop.

            Pain biting into her derriere with every step, she crossed to the door and peeped into the main room.  Several men were in sight, as was a serving girl not much older than Lucy.  Gareth was nowhere to be seen.  This might be Lucy’s only chance to act.  Chin high, Lucy stepped out of the parlor.  “Gentlemen, I have need of transport to London.  My father will happily pay, and most handsomely.”

            “And could you put a number of quid to this ‘most handsomely?” one of the men, a rough-looking and somewhat dirty fellow asked.

            “Name your price,” she said grandly.  Once her father heard how Lord Reece had abused her, Lucy knew he’d be willing to pay whatever was requested and give his most genuine thanks.

            “I will return you to London free of charge at the end of our honeymoon,” a horrifyingly familiar voice drawled.  Lucy spun toward the sound and saw Gareth lounging in the entrance of the inn.  “Gentlemen, I’m afraid my new bride does not feel that I’ve been treating her with enough consideration, hence her desire to be returned to her papa and mama.”  His words were met with laughter, laughter that swelled when Gareth confided, “As it happens, I had to take the young miss across my knee for some naughty behavior, and she has flown into a temper.”

            Lucy felt her face redden, and the man who she’d thought might have been her savior called out, “Now that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

            “She does have quite a lovely bottom,” Gareth agreed.  He pushed himself away from the door frame, strolled over to Lucy, and gave her fanny a smack, then leaned close and whispered in her ear, “If you don’t wish for me to give these men a show by throwing up your skirts and spanking you here and now, I suggest you go directly to the carriage and wait for me.”

            She realized that escaping Gareth would take much more cunning, and that her new plan, whatever it turned out to be, had to begin with the illusion of absolute submission, and perhaps even devotion.

            Lucy dropped into a curtsy.  “Yes, my lord,” she answered.  The walk across the room felt endless as the men laughed and laughed, a few going so far as to applaud when Gareth ordered the serving girl to buy drinks for all in attendance.

            Her stomach twisted into knots as she waited beside the carriage.  She told herself that she shouldn’t fear.  She’d already endured a number of Gareth’s punishments.  She could endure another.  Somehow, she was not able to reassure herself.

            She almost expected Gareth to haul her over his knee the moment the two of them were settled back in the carriage.  He didn’t.  He simply stared at her as they traveled along.  Lucy was convinced that he was trying to determine the most mortifying and painful discipline he could administer.

            Near an hour later, he again instructed the driver to stop.  When Lucy alighted from the carriage, all she could see was countryside.  There wasn’t a structure in sight.  “I thought a picnic lunch was in order.  I obtained the necessary at the inn.”  Gareth tossed a bundle up to the driver.  “Have a meal and a nap if you desire one.  We’ll take a bit of a walk to stretch our legs then have our own meal.”

            He took Lucy’s hand, his grip firm, but not at all painful, and they began to walk across the field.  “This looks like an appealing spot,” he said when they neared a lovely willow tree.  He unwrapped the cloth bundle he’d been carrying in his other hand.  He spread the cloth on the ground, and set out several meat pies and two red apples, then assisted Lucy in taking a seat.

            It was hard for Lucy to swallow even a bite as Gareth made polite chitchat about the  view and the weather.  She knew she had punishment coming.  She wished he would simply go ahead and do whatever it was he’d decided on.  Her stomach now felt as if it were a small, cold, lump inside her, and her palms had begun to perspire.

            “Would you perhaps enjoy a brief nap?” Gareth asked.  “We have a half an hour or so before we need return to the carriage.”

            “No thank you, my lord,” she answered.  “It is most considerate of you to ask,” she added, certain that she would not have even the slightest hope of escape until she had convinced Gareth she would willingly, nay eagerly, comply with his every wish, that he had her obedience in all matters.

            Gareth stretched out on his back.  “I believe I’ll take a rest before we continue.  While I do, you might go over to that willow tree and pluck a switch.” Lucy’s heart froze for a moment, then began beating twice as fast and hard as it had been.  “To be prudent, why don’t you bring three. We need to have spares in case the first is not up to the task.”

            “Yes, sir.”  Lucy walked over to the tree, well aware of exactly what the task was to be.  She wanted to run.  She wanted to pummel him with her fists.  However, she would have to take his discipline with docility.  He could not know that with each branch she tore from the tree, the fury was building inside her.

            When Lucy returned to Gareth with the thin willow branches he did not stand or even sit.  He remained lying there with his hands behind his head.  He even had the gall to smile at her.  “You’ll need to strip the leaves off them.  They won’t make fit switches otherwise.”

            “Yes, sir.”  The words tasted like bile on her tongue.  She vowed she would never speak them again once she managed to free herself.  “I’ve finished,” she announced, when each of the three branches was stripped.

            Gareth held out his hand, and she gave him one of the switches.  He flicked it lazily through the air a few times, then slashed it in a wide arc that sent the air whistling.  “They should do nicely.”  He still didn’t bother to sit.  “I notice a boulder over yonder.”  He gave the switch he still held another lazy flick.  “Do you see it?”

            “Yes, sir.”  It was hard to keep all traces of her hatred for him out of her voice, but she believed she managed it.

            “Excellent.”  He stuck a blade of grass between his teeth.”  Take off your pantalets and leave them here.”  He began acting as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra with the willow wand as his baton. “Once you have, go bend over the boulder and raise your skirts so that your bottom is bare.  I’ll be over to whip you.” 

            “Yes, sir,” she said again. The word “whip” sent hot and cold shivers through Lucy’s body.  It took her several tries to unfasten her pantalets and remove them.  Then, as she’d been commanded, she took herself to the boulder and stretched herself over it on her belly.  Her fingers continued to quiver as she pulled up her shift, her petticoats, and her dress, leaving her limbs and bottom exposed.  She wondered briefly if the driver was witnessing her actions, but her fear over what was to come did not leave room for her to care.

            Had he fallen asleep back under the tree?  Lucy wondered what seemed like a quarter of an hour later.  When would he come to her?  If he’d simply come with her over to the boulder, they would be finished by now, or she hoped so.  She tried to twist around enough to see him, but couldn’t manage it and stay in the position he’d instructed her to take.  She wasn’t going to move, not if night fell and she was still there with her bottom on display.  She was going to be everything that was dutiful, devoted, and respectful until she made her escape and got her revenge.  Bent over that boulder, Lucy promised herself that said revenge would be full and mighty.  She tried to consider various hideous things that could be done to Gareth, but her fear had mounted into near-terror as she waited, her entire body tight with apprehension.

            She felt something light brush against her bare thigh.  Was some sort of insect crawling on her?  She reached back and tried to flick it away, but it simply moved higher, seeming to slide up the crevice between the cheeks of her buttocks.  She moved to flick at it again, and a line of fire crossed the back of her hand.  She yelped and began to jerk upright.

            “I wouldn’t advise moving.”

            The sound of Gareth’s voice had Lucy immediately pressing her belly tightly back against the boulder.  “Forgive me, sir.  I didn’t realize…  I thought some sort of insect was on my person.”  How had he moved right up behind her without her detecting him?  Perhaps it was because he was half serpent.  Lucy decided not to share this observation.

            “That is not the case,” he answered.  She thought he sounded amused.  Fury mixed with her fear; the fear was stronger.

            “I am fairly certain you know precisely why I’m about to whip you, but let’s be certain.  Why are you about to be punished, my lady?”

            Because you are a brute! Lucy wanted to exclaim.  A brute who somehow disguised himself as a handsome sweet-natured man for years upon years.  “I am to be punished because I tried to escape from you at the inn,” she answered.  She was proud that her voice hadn’t trembled, although perhaps it would be intelligent to let him see the apprehension and fright roiling inside her.  Surely if he were to whip her, he wanted her to fear him.

            “That’s right.  I have decided you deserve five stripes.  After each, I expect you to thank me,” he told her.

            “Yes, sir.”  She hadn’t determined whether or not to show fear, but her voice quavered without her volition.

            Lucy squeezed her eyes shut at the whistling sound made by the willow switch.  She had once been stung by a bee and when the switch hit her flesh, flesh that had been spanked and paddled so recently, it was like a dozen of those stings, hot and biting, in a row across the top of her bottom.  The pain took her breath and her ability to think.

            “Since you did not thank me, I will have to give you a repeat,” Gareth informed her.

            Lucy began to cry.  “I coul-could n-not breathe, m-my lord.  And so I could, could, could not s-speak,” she stammered.
Yeah, I'm confident that was non-consensual.  So here's a recap of where my stories fall on the Consent Scale.  (Though most of the stories end up with consensual spankings by the end.)
1. Taken in Hand.  Gigi makes an appointment at Real Fantasies to get a spanking, something she's been fantasizing about for years.  For Gigi, it's all about erotic fulfilment.
2.  Asking for a Spanking.  Katie's life is so out of control that she asks her handsome professor neighbor to help her--by giving her disciplinary spankings.  But she does ask!
3.  No Pain, No Gain  Madison hires a trainer to help her get into shape and lose weight.  She doesn't read the small print that says she gives the trainer permission to spank her.
4.  Time for a Spanking.  Elise agrees to take a paddling from the school principal, so her daughter doesn't have to.  (I'm ranking the semi-consensual spankings by how much leverage the spanker has over the spankee.)
5.  A Spanking for Santa.  Henry, dressed up as Santa, picks the wrong house to rob.  Single-mom Marci offers him a choice:  he takes a spanking or she calls 911.  He's actually not that unwilling to take the bargain.  Getting spanked  by a cute woman in her bedroom doesn't sound so bad.  Wrong. 
6.  The Naughty List  Briony hates the idea of her assistant--her assistant!--spanking her, but he'll turn her in for tax fraud if she doesn't go over his knee.
7.  Spanking Bridezilla.  Henry loves his bride-to-be, but her selfish behavior makes him hand out an ultimatum:  she takes spankings when he thinks she needs them or the wedding is off.
8.  Better Watch Out (Cause Santa Spanks)  Helen's husband gives her a choice:  accept a spanking or he'll take the kids to his parents' for  Christmas, leaving her alone for the holiday, and then he'll ask for a divorce.
9.  The Headstrong Miss Henley.  It's a battle of wills between Miss Henley and her fiance, Lord Whitford.  He spanks her every time she misbehaves.  She won't stop misbehaving because she finds that her behavior humiliates him in front of society, and that's the only way she has to punish him.
10. The Scheming Miss Sinclair.  Miss Sinclair's new husband, tricked into marrying her, is determined to show her she made a huge error because he now owns her, body and soul.
I find I'm still in the mood to write a few more Regencies, so I suspect there will be more non-consensual spankings to come!

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