Okay, it's time for me to come clean and admit that before I wrote my first spanking erotica story, I didn't understand the appeal. However, publishers like Blushing Books and Stormy Nights have a large, loyal following and are doing very well. So well in fact that some of their books like Shelly Douglas‘ Safe in His Hands, D. W. Collins’ Katarina’s Strict Daddy, and Joannie Kay's The Problem With Jordan have reached best seller status.
That's what caught my attention. Holy cow, stories about spanking and being spanked are hot! Hmm. Guess I'd better take a look at what all the excitement is about. You see, I've been writing and selling erotica and erotic romance for years with more and more of my stories revolving around BDSM or more specifically capture/bondage. I figured spanking themes won't be that different.
Well yes. And no. As a disclaimer, spanking stories are as varied as the other erotic genres but thanks to my admittedly limited research, I've determined that many of them fall into the father figure/little girl theme. In contrast, at least my BDSM stories are harder edged sometimes with dubious consent. In contrast (and please correct me if I'm wrong), the majority of female characters who are on the receiving end of spanking love being disciplined. Oh they might resist at first but before long they realize the man in their lives is disciplining their rear ends for their own good.
I have a problem with that. Don't get me wrong. If basic power exchange works for both writers and readers, go for it! If you're into headstrong young women who need a lesson in how to conduct themselves, that's fine.
However, I need more. More motivation, more at stake, more something. Maybe it's coming from capture/bondage but I can't convince my heroines to lift up their skirts and bend over the heroes lap simply because a man tells them to. They resist, not because they're headstrong, but because something deeper is at stake. They have issues. Heck, all of my characters have issues. In fact, I have a psychologist on retainer to make sure none of my characters go off the deep end.
Let me give an example of what I'm talking about. In my brand spanking new release from Stormy Nights called Taming His Mate, I pit characters from two warring and primitive tribes against each other. I chose the tribal setting so I could make up my own rules and conventions. That way it hopefully makes sense that my hero Sabin has been given the task of capturing and mating with a female from another tribe because that tribe's females are fleet of foot. Sabin's tribe needs to revitalize their bloodline if they're going to survive. Needless to say, Kahsha will do everything she can to escape the man who has tied her up. (Yep, the whole bondage thing.) She could care less about his agenda and tries with all her might not to let his hunky body get to her. She wants to be free. He wants to keep her with him—and to tame her, starting with reddening her rump. Of course that gets her attention which is the whole point of the story.
Bottom line (sorry about that), you're going to see a lot more spanking stories from me but I won't be writing about feisty females and no-nonsense males. Hopefully I'll be upping the odds—even to having survival at stake.
Speaking of Taming His Mate, here's the blurb.
Sabin, the greatest hunter of his tribe, was given a simple task by the elders of his people: capture a healthy, fertile woman of the plains, tame her, and then claim her as his mate. The capturing part proves easy enough, and soon a beautiful, spirited female is bound, helpless, and awaiting his intimate attentions. But taming her will prove more difficult.
Believing herself too swift and intelligent to ever fall prey to any creature, let alone a man from another tribe, Kahsha is shocked when she’s caught by a powerful, handsome hunter. Soon she has been stripped bare, spanked hard, and brought to the edge of climax only to be denied. Yet despite her blushing cheeks and burning bottom, she aches for more.
Though she hungers desperately to be taken long and hard, Sabin will not make her his until she submits herself utterly. Kahsha knows that before long she will have no choice but to yield to her body’s demands, but will she survive the shame when she finally begs for him to claim her?
And here’s an excerpt:
Watching her, the stranger moved his free hand to his water pouch. He tried to untie it, but the knot refused to give way. She imagined walking up to him and taking over the chore. Her fingers would slide over his flesh and absorb his warmth, press past flesh to reach muscle and learn not just how strong he was, but what it took to bring his cock to life.
There. She’d done it again. Thought about this stranger in ways she never had about Rafi.
Unexpected movement jerked her out of the dangerous place her mind had slipped into. He’d released the spear in preparation for using both hands so he could untie his water pouch. However, as the pouch fell to the ground, she noted that his weight was now distributed equally on both legs.
“You lie!” she blurted.
Whirling away from the enemy, she sent energy to her legs. At the same time, she yanked the water bladders off her neck and threw them aside. One stride, two. She was nearly up to antelope speed, escaping him, soon to be—
Something sharp struck her left shoulder blade. An insect? Not slowing, she swiped at it but whatever it was remained lodged in her skin, not hurting really. Her skin there started to feel warmer than the rest of her. Within seconds, the still-growing heat spread out and slid down her spine and arms. A few seconds later her legs caught fire. Fear rocked her. She tried to pull out whatever had struck her, only to discover she could no longer lift her arms. Instead of planting one sure foot after another on the ground, she started to stumble.
Help me! Someone help me!
Whether she’d deliberately slowed so she could better control her movements or speed had been stolen from her, she couldn’t tell. Her head was becoming heavier with every beat of her heart, and she couldn’t feel her feet. Could barely think.
The flat ground became a mountain, impossibly steep. She trudged, leaning forward like an old woman who’d forgotten how her knees worked. No longer able to send a message to her hips, she stopped and looked around in confusion.
Then she pitched forward like a just-killed bird.
Vonna Harper has been writing from childhood and no longer has any other marketable skills. From the day she read her first erotic romance, she knew that's what she wanted to do—forever. She has been published by many of the major erotic publishers and has self –published some pretty edgy stuff.