Over Loki's Knee
Volume One
Published by Trouble Books
http://lokirenard.com
Copyright © 2012 Loki Renard. All Rights Reserved.
Cover Image: Conrado , 2012, Bigstockphoto.com
Smashwords Edition
What's In This Book?
What's In This Book?
This is a collection of unpublished and barely published works. The main contenders for top billing are as follows:
Impudence Lost (Prequel to The Taming of Miss Munroe.)
Flora and the Dead Men
Eventide
Impudence Lost is the prequel to The Taming of Miss Munroe. If you enjoyed that Victorianesque disciplinary romance and wanted more, you'll find it here.
Fans of my vampire series Finn the Devourer might find something titillating in the rather long short story Eventide, a cut down and concentrated version of a series I wrote a while back, in which a naughty lesbian vampire gets herself into some serious trouble with Master and Mistress vampires alike.
As for Flora and the Dead Men, well, that's a little Western short with zombies and a bit of spanking. I don't think that needs to be sold any harder than that. Hell, I've sold myself just reading that and I wrote it. Like Eventide, Flora will also one day be published in novel format, but in the meantime I see no reason why we shouldn't enjoy the short version.
In addition to these three main attractions are several erotic shorts scattered about the place.
If you're new to my works, consider this a sampler. If you're already familiar with my stories, you'll find some old friends here, and possibly make some new ones too.
Spanked With My Panties On
Bent over his desk, my skirt folded up around my waist, my bottom presented high and round, I wish I hadn’t insisted my panties stay on.
He has already nestled most of the fabric into the crevice between my cheeks and pulled it tight. His hand has painted hot red palm prints over my curved rear.
I am vulnerable. I am spanked.
He pats my bottom, then his hand slides lower and he pats the pantied
pouch that is my sex. He knows.
He knows I am wet. He knows my
plaintive cries are not just cries of pain, but of arousal. He knows
my need.
He raises his hand and spanks me again and again. We are not here to indulge my arousal. We are here because I needed to be disciplined, because I needed this trip across his desk. We are here because I pushed him over and over again until he commanded me to bend over and take the punishment I was due.
Mine is not the first reddened bottom to bounce over the edge of the oak. It will not be the last. Many spirited women have met their match in this room, their bottoms roasted red, their legs splayed, barely able to hold their weight.
I lift my bottom up as his finger slides from the panty covered crevice down to my willing slit and taps lightly over my clit. If only he would slide my panties aside. If only he would discover how wet I am and put that knowledge to good use. But I insisted my panties stay on and they do.
They stay on as he goes on spanking me. He has chosen a slipper, the slipper he always said had my name on it. It cracks down across the bare skin of my backside, marking me red.
His voice rumbles chastisements with every swat, but I am not listening. Each time the rubber meets my cheeks I arch and yowl, less a chastened young lady and more a cat in heat.
Was this always his intention? Did he know what would happen when I assumed the position, my rear at his mercy?
Does this happen every time? Is he perhaps bored of quivering, aroused female flesh? He certainly seems immune to the way my hips are grinding, pressing my clit against the desk as I frantically try to find some relief whilst the slipper falls hot, hard and fast against my cheeks.
This will hurt terribly later on. Later on the swollen, tight skin of my bottom will remind me of my foolishness with every step. But right now, in this moment, I am driven by a much more primal urge.
He reaches between my legs and squeezes. I squeal with surprise as he uses his grip to guide me back away from the edge of the desk. He saw what I was doing and now my tender flesh is trapped in his strong grasp.
“Good girls do not try to cum whilst they are being disciplined,” he growls in my ear. “Do you want your pussy spanked?”
Yes. Yes I want my pussy spanked. I want more than that. I want it bared and touched and taken. I want my pussy spanked. I want my pussy lashed. I want my pussy pounded. But I whimper and shake my head in a lie.
He squeezes tighter. I am caught in an intimate vice, entirely at his mercy. My last shreds of will are slipping away. He could do anything. He could press my panties aside and take me roughly. He could have me where I’ve never been had before. He could touch and taste and use me until the sun rises.
But I insisted that my panties stay on.
He releases his grip between my legs and brings the slipper down across my cheeks again. My hips are now too far away from the desk, I grind on thin air as he spanks me just as I deserve to be spanked.
With my panties on.
This is just a short piece, but it contains spanking and zombies and I love it quite a lot.
Flora and the Dead Men
“You think you’re in trouble? You don’t know what trouble is, girlie.”
Sheriff was growling at me. I wasn’t listening. I was scanning. You gotta keep scanning. That puff of dust could be a small gust of wind or it could be the first sign that your world is about to erupt into a howling mass of stinking flesh. From my vantage point on top of the old dry goods store I could smell everything blowing through the town, including the salty tang of Sheriff’s sweat. He’d been baking in the midday sun, reinforcing the barricades that ran all around the borders of what was left of our little settlement.
On the other side of the road a piece of rusty corrugated iron was banging against its framing. We'd have to nail that down, can't have distractions when you're on watch. You gotta keep your ears tuned in, not to the chisel jawed guy who plays Sheriff around these parts, but to the sounds of the world around you. Sometimes your ears’ll tell you when something is coming for you before your eyes will.
Out here your senses are the difference between life and death. When you’re on patrol for the whole town, the lone gun standing between them and the invasion that's taken most all of the country, keen ears and beady eyes are the only thing keeping men, women and children in one piece.
The whole desert is crawling with the dead. Sometimes they come in waves from the graveyard in what used to be the next town over, sometimes they'll come in one big group. They can scent the living from miles away and once they get a whiff of living flesh they come in droves. It’s the groanin’ that always does my head in. Something about the way decaying flesh dries out and begins to whisper and rattle. The only fix for that is good barrage of shotgun fire.
“You hear me, Flora?” He was talking to me again, always talking with the yap yappin’ and the lip flappin’.
“Shuttit already,” I growled.
His eyes turned to little itty bitty slits in his face and his forehead went red.
“Now listen here,” he said. I wasn’t listening. He was a big brute that needed to learn to shut his pie hole.
“You’re getting mighty big for your britches, young lady,” he said, getting too close for my comfort. I pushed him in the chest with the butt of the gun.
“I’m still in em’ ain’t I?”
He shook his head at me. “I’d have ‘em around your knees if I had my ‘druthers.”
“Touch me and I’ll put a hole in you so good you don’t ever rise,” I promised him.
His hulking bulk loomed towards me, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything. I’d saved him and his little town more often than either of us could count. Grown men had run off at the sight of the hordes, but I didn’t run, wasn’t in my blood to run. If he took me to task he ran the risk of losing one of the few people left with the balls to hold the defenses.
“You wouldn’t dare, Flora,” he said, pushing my gun to the side and reaching for me.
I ducked under his burly arm, just barely avoiding the grip of his big meaty hand and growled at him angrily. “What the hell are you doing, Clay?”
He put his hands on his hips and glowered down at me like I was one of his kids. “Everybody’s had enough of your attitude, Flora. Sharp shooter or not, you’re a mouthy little madam.”
“So? What business of that is yours?”
“Well if you were married, it’d be your husband’s duty to take you down a peg or two, but you’re not married, so I reckon it falls to me.”
I brushed strands of filthy blonde hair out of my eyes so I could glare at him better. “What in hell’s name are you talkin’ about Clay? I'm trying to work here.”
He didn't get it, just kept jawing on. “It’s high time you got your comeuppance, young lady. You’ve been running all over town cussing and taking whatever you reckon you have a right to.”
“Hey, none of this would be here if it wasn’t for me, alright?”
“Nobody’s denying that you’re a good little shooter, but you can’t just go about the place acting as you please, Flora.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because it’ ain’t civilized, that’s why not. It ain’t proper.”
I leaned back against the rickety half wall that ran around the roof and smirked at him. “So what are you plannin’ on doing, Clay? Are you going to treat me like one of your little kids? You think you’re gunna tan my hide?”
“You’re damn straight, missy.”
I looked him up and down. He was a big guy, that was for sure. He must have stood close to 6”5 and he had the body to match. Plenty of women around these parts held a candle for Clay Bourne, and I reckoned a few too many of the little kids born since the sickness had bright green eyes like his, not to mention shocks of dark hair just like the kind that threatened to fall into his eyes now.
Clay wasn’t used to women like me, women who didn’t much care if he glared at them or flashed his big ol’ … smile at em either. I made him mad.
“Goddamit Clay, go annoy the bar girls. I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to play your little spanking games.”
“Not today Flora. Today you get what’s coming to you,” he shook his head and came at me again. This time he got a hold of the back of my britches as I scrambled away and he wasted no time in dragging me up into the air and putting me over his thigh where I was left yowling and seesawing wildly.
“Now you take this like a big girl, you hear?” I could hear the smile in his voice, he was mocking me after what I said about him smackin’ me like a kid.
“Don’t you fucking dare Clay. I’ll fucking…” My tirade was interrupted by the arrival of his hand across the seat of my worn britches. As the fire caught my behind I wished I’d picked up a new pair from the supply master. These ones barely covered my behind anymore, they were threadbare as hell and it felt like there was hardly anything at all between my tender skin and Clay’s rough palm as he slapped my ass as hard as he possibly could.
“Now you calm down there missy and take what you’ve earned,” he drawled above me. He’d taken hold of the scruff of my shirt so I couldn’t flip myself off his thigh, and his leg was propped up on one of the coils of rope up there on the roof. I was trapped with my ass in the air as he took out his frustrations on my behind, hauling back and slapping me as hard as he could.
I ain’t gonna lie. It hurt like hell. It was all I could do to draw breath to yowl before his hand came down again. Kicking and struggling didn’t help any, it only served to press me down harder across his thigh.
“Damit Clay, it hurts!” I shrieked at him.
He stopped spanking me for a moment to reply. “It’s supposed to hurt, little girl, it’s supposed to make you mind your elders and betters.”
“Elders and betters?!” My voice rose to a shriek. “Ain’t none of you older better people would be alive if it weren’t for me, so you can shove your goddamn…”
Again, I didn’t get to finish my cursing because Clay had wrapped his arm around my midsection and was now spanking my ass hard and fast, giving me no space to breathe between the slaps. His damn arm never seemed to tire out, but my ass was starting to hurt something fierce
“Stop it Clay, I can’t take it!” I finally yelled.
“Then you better learn to mind your mouth,” he said, slapping me again and keeping me in place over his knee.
I gasped in pain and fought tears of pain and rage. My whole backside felt prickly and hot and swollen twice as big as it had ever been before. I hated how damn satisfied he sounded. How could he do this to me? I’d been his partner when no-one else would be. He knew damn well this town needed me, but he was treating me like a child… worse actually… he was treating me like a girl. “Clay you god da…”
Again the barrage of slaps fell against my ass. I couldn’t take it, but I didn’t have any choice. Clay had made his stand and he wasn’t going to back down. He knew damn well I wasn’t going to back down either. We were both breathing hard now, and the tears were threatening to escape down my cheeks. I held them back. Clay wasn’t going to see my tears.
“Have you had enough, Flora?”
“I had enough years ago, Clay.”
He sighed. “Don’t make me do this Flora. Why can’t you just be a good girl?” His voice had gone all soft and cajoling and I knew that he didn’t really want to be beating the hell out of me. It wasn’t his style. He didn’t like seeing women cry. He was a regular gentleman was Clay.
“You started this Clay, not me,” I growled softly.
His palm rested on my sore behind and he patted me gently. “Flora…”
“DEAD MEN WALKING!”
The alarm went up across the town. God knows how anyone had managed to spot the group with all the commotion on top of the dry goods store, but sure enough when I craned my neck I saw that there were a dozen or more shambling their way across the red sand towards our barricades. They were wearing faded rags of what looked like real fine clothes. Nothing worse than a rich zombie.
“Dammit,” Clay swore. “We’ll finish this later.”
He flipped me off his lap, I landed on my feet picked up the rifle, turned, sighted it, fired and missed. My ass hurt like hell, but there was no time for self pity. A stray tear dried on my cheek as I took more careful aim. This time one of the undead went down. The survivors didn't notice their fallen comrade, they shambled on right over him. A zombie ain't got no loyalty to anyone but itself. I reckoned I could learn a thing or two from 'em.
From the other corner of the building, I heard another shot and in the distance, a zombie went down. We had this. Clay was probably the best shot in town and I wasn’t far behind him. It took no more than ten minutes to dispatch the group of undead, then we shouted down the all clear and kept watch from above as the clean up team breached the barricade to go out into the desert, pour gasoline over the remains and set them ablaze.
“Flora…” Clay turned to me when we saw the plume of smoke rising high into the air and our guys were safely back in town.
“Don’t Clay…” I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at him. As the adrenaline settled, my ass was beginning to hurt something fierce. I was so angry at him, I could have pushed him right off the top of that building. Luckily I got saved from his soppiness as we both heard the quick but halting footsteps of someone wearing very silly shoes trying to quickly climb the wooden staircase.
“Clay!” A light, pretty voice interjected as Lily McGee hurled herself across the rooftop in a mass of pretty gingham and lace. She threw herself into Clay’s arms and sobbed prettily, nuzzling under his chin. Almost reflexively he brushed her soft red hair and murmured comforting words.
“Oh Clay, I was so scared!” Her painted lower lip trembled as she turned her doe eyes up toward him.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” he said in his deep manly rumble.
I stood back, smirking as his green eyes flicked across to me.
“Yep Clay, you’re a regular superman,” I said dryly, putting my gun down and mozying over to the trapdoor Lily had come busting up through.
“Flora…” he tried to speak to me again, but Lily was already covering his face in painted kisses, making him look as if he was suffering from a red rash. I wondered why he didn’t correct Lily for her improper behavior. Guess he didn’t have a problem when the women threw themselves at him, no matter how shameless they were.
“See you, Clay,” I waved and made my way down the stairs. I was going to the Saloon. I needed a drink like a zombie needed brains – so bad I'd die twice for it.
This is from the series Eventide, a story about a vampire clan full of unruly fledglings in need of a firm hand. Spike, the protagonist of the piece, is an orphaned fledgling being dragged up by the clan in a fairly haphazard fashion. Although this story begins with two women making love in an alley, it mostly consists of M/F discipline. Funny how that works.
Eventide
In the depths of a silver moonlit night, two female figures twined together in an alley. Soft moans of pleasure escaped a fur clad voluptuous blonde as a slimmer, more athletic woman with short, shaggy dark hair pressed her up against the wall and began kissing her passionately.
"I've never... felt like this before," Lake panted as her expensive coat fell off her shoulders, propelled by the decisive hands of the woman she'd just met in Bayside's most upmarket bar for ladies of a certain persuasion.
"Get used to it, beautiful," the stranger purred.
It was not usually in Lake's character to allow herself to be taken into a dark alley and groped thoroughly, but she was feeling reckless and from the moment their eyes had met across the bar this stranger, the stranger who even now was cupping her breasts through the silk of her dress, had clouded her mind and captured her senses. Lake was filled with a wanton yearning, a passionate desire to please this slim, dark beauty.
A strong black jean clad thigh pressed between her curvy legs and she parted them willingly, riding her bare mons against the rough fabric like a cat in heat. She had gone out that evening to lose herself, no panties required. Things had turned out even better than she planned. As the stranger's lips moved sensually over the heated skin of her throat, pausing briefly over her fluttering pulse, Lake was sure she had never felt so very alive. There was dust and grit in her hair and she knew her dress would be ruined, but she didn't care in the slightest.
"Do you want this? Do you want all of this?" There was a gravelly quality to the stranger's voice as she wrested herself away from Lake's flesh momentarily and put space between them.
Panting, Lake nodded, clutching at the bottom of her skirt and pulling it upwards, putting herself on shameless display, letting her actions say what was too crude for words.
The woman's thin, red lips curled into a smile of approval. "I'm glad I brought you back here, this is the perfect setting for a slut like you."
The harsh words only served to inflame Lake's passions further. In her real life, the life she lived in day light, nobody would have dared spoken to her that way. But this stranger had no idea who she was, and Lake got the delicious impression that she wouldn't have cared much if she had.
"Stop fucking around and fuck me," Lake hurled back the reply.
The stranger chuckled. "Fuck you, is that why you think I wanted you?"
Above the pair, the moon broke free of the clouds for a moment and Lake's heart skipped a beat as she saw the moonlight reflect off the stranger's eyes, lighting them up for a brief moment. A quick flash of silver in the pupils made the stranger look otherworldly. "You don't scare me," Lake purred, pressing her hand between her legs, temporarily sating her lust with her own fingers.
"I don't?" The stranger cocked her head, glancing at the junction of Lake's thighs, where her fingers were hard at work.
"I know what you are," Lake grunted as she took her own pleasure.
"You know what I want then." The stranger's eyes darkened with lust and desire. She leaned forward once more and traced her tongue over the skin of Lake's exposed neck, at the same time reaching down and stilling Lake's frantic fingers with a firm grip.
"And you know what I want." Lake thrust her hips forward, grinding herself against the woman's upper thigh.
"Well, ladies first," the stranger finally obliged Lake's lusts by pressing her fingers along Lake's wet lips, massaging them with soft strokes that belied the inhuman strength Lake knew she possessed.