Mischief Under the Mistletoe is out NOW!

I hope you’re ready for the biggest Christmas spanking anthology of 2017, because it’s here! Not eleven, not twelve, not thirteen, but FOURTEEN authors got together to bring you this AMAZING anthology!

Here’s the blurb:

Mischief Under the Mistletoe: Fourteen fierce festive stories in one AMAZING anthology extravaganza, fresh from international and number one bestselling authors alongside hot new talent! Editor’s Note: These delightfully naughty Christmas spanking stories feature scorching romance and BDSM. Some involve age play, all involve spanking. There’s also a bit of LGBT+, some magic, and a drunken incident with a photocopier. If this isn’t your scene, it might be better to find a nice book about knitting lamp shades, instead.

My story is “His Christmas Baby” and it’s about Chloe, a traumatized young lady who is guided through an ageplay journey by her dom, Bradley. Here’s an excerpt:

“C’mon, little bunny, let’s go home and have some Christmas dinner.”

“Can’t we play out a little longer? Please?” Chloe begged.

“All right. But no more hide and seek.”

“That’s fine. TAG! You’re it!” She tapped his arm, shrieked with laughter, and tried to run away, but Bradley caught up with her easily.

“Tag,” he said, then swatted her bottom. She giggled and went after him. Every time she tagged him, he caught up with her and spanked her ass. It was the most fun she’d ever had playing tag. Tired out from all the running, she wasn’t surprised when he barreled into her and she landed face down on the soft ground.

He straddled her body, and swatted her bottom, hard. The sting went straight to her clit, awakening her body and making her nipples harden.

“Tag,” he murmured. “You’re it.”

She wiggled her bottom slightly, touching against his semi-hard cock, and replied, “Tag, you’re it.”

He landed another fiery spank on her ass and her clit throbbed as it tingled with desire.

“Tag,” he said in a dominant, primal growl. She giggled as her pussy clenched.

She flexed one of her arms and managed to touch his foot.

He swatted her ass again, making her moan with need as her core was flooded with glowing sensations and her clit beat in time with her pulse. She tried to raise one of her legs to tag him, but she couldn’t quite reach.

“Do you give up, little girl?” he asked sweetly. She nodded, rubbing her hair in the fallen leaves leftover from autumn. He swatted her bottom again then got off her. He scooped her up in his strong arms, repositioning her so she was cradled by him, and she rested her arms around his strong shoulders.

“I need to take you home and show you what happens to little girls who like to play tag with Daddy’s cock,” he whispered, and she shuddered in anticipation as he carried her the short distance to their home. Never had she felt so protected, so loved, and so turned on, all at the same time. She loved her daddy so much.

* * *

Need it now? There’s also stories by Maren Smith, Amelia Smarts, Kelly Dawson, Allysa Hart, Delia Grace, Gracie Malling, Brandy Golden, Shelly Douglas, Jaye Elise, Sheri Lynn, Joelle Casteel, Molly Alvarado, and Kathryn R. Blake! It’s only $0.99 for a few days, then it goes up to $6.99, so get your copy while you can!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078BPBG49

Awakened with the Cane

I know I don’t talk about my relationship that often, but this past week I’ve sort of come out (in a few different ways) with the fact that I’m not in a scening BDSM relationship, I’m in a 24/7 one. Partly, I had to explain that my husband dragged me off the computer on Tuesday, I wasn’t allowed online for 2 days except to go on Google Scholar, and I now only have three hours on Facebook between Friday and Monday unless my thesis is finished before then, because I got in trouble for not focussing on my work. I brought it on myself. There’s a stopwatch beside my laptop telling me I have 2 hours, 8 minutes of that Facebook time left. Usually, however, my relationship isn’t this obvious.

I’m not supposed to wear my collar every day, and a lot of the time my life looks (mostly) like other people’s. If you visited my house, you might find it strange that I always kneel on the floor to eat meals, and a few other similar things, but to all intents and purposes we’re just two people.

Where it comes into the foreground is when I misbehave. My husband won’t do anything overt (e.g. spanking) in public because, obviously, the public haven’t consented to being part of anything, and they would quite probably be distressed if they saw me upended over his knee on a park bench (not that he hasn’t done that, just not while there was anyone around).

This week, however, I’ve been a complete and utter brat for no better reason than because I’m ridiculously stressed and, being a type A, I can’t let go of the work I’m trying to get done, but I can’t let go of all my day-to-day tasks, either. I had a meltdown yesterday because he had to take over making lunch after I’d started (I wrecked an egg, then I wrecked a second one immediately after).

On an intellectual level, I know it’s ridiculous, but I always feel like it’s a fundamental failure if I can’t get the submissive stuff done, because that should always be my number one priority. At the end of the day, it’s the permanent thing that underpins my entire existence and I feel like I’m having to let things go a little at a time when I need structure and discipline more than ever, because of the pressure I’m currently under.

The day before yesterday, I yelled at him to shut up when he was feeding the rabbits because it interrupted my train of thought while I was writing a paragraph of dense academic discourse. It’s not okay. I know I shouldn’t behave like this. I can do better. That was immediately before bed on Thursday and he was too tired to punish me. I told him that meant I’d gotten away with it because he *always* forgets if he doesn’t do it immediately. He told me he was going to do it first thing in the morning. I was like, “go on then,” but I was sure he would put it off again.

Friday morning, I awakened to the covers being hurriedly whipped off me. Then pain exploded across my bottom (I sleep on my front). I pulled my earplugs out in time to hear the second stroke of the cane landing on my bottom, and buried my face in my pillow so no-one heard me. He went for ten strokes, then told me there’d be another ten if I didn’t get up *right now*.

So I did.

For half the day this made me feel reassured and well-behaved. Then the incident with the eggs happened. To be fair, I did figure out much later that I’d gotten so upset because I was trying to make him lunch, trying to help him when he had a busy day fixing things in the garden before the new people move into our house, and I wanted to take some of that stress off him because I feel really bad about the fact my academic demands currently mean I can’t do any repairing or much cleaning. That’s on top of the fact I’m a DIY disaster. In hindsight, getting so upset that my cooked eggs went wrong, and running upstairs and crying in bed when I *know* I’m supposed to sit on the stairs when I’m too upset to do something wasn’t my best move. He was actually going to let me off all of that because I got back downstairs before he counted to 10. But later in the day, my emotions got the better of me again and I stupidly lost it over some gravy. So I got spanked on the spot then told he was going to do it later, as well.

Later came, he was too sleepy. This time, I *knew* what was coming in the morning but I actually dropped off to sleep easier. So, again, this morning, I got awoken with the covers being pulled off and the cane landing on my rear. It was twenty strokes today, of the big cane. Sitting is progressively getting harder.

Then, at lunchtime today, I managed to throw a cuddly unicorn at him. It was stupid, I know that. I’m not 6. My behavior seems to regress to it when I’m under a lot of stress, though, and so I’m currently flipping between asking his opinion on my interpretation of postmodernist feminist theory and throwing unicorns at him.

So I got spanked more at lunchtime. At least he’s been aware this week that what I really, really need is structure and certainty, and unlike other times in the past when I’ve been mentally falling apart, this time, he hasn’t backed off and avoided me, he’s challenging me every time, and I’m responding better to it. It’s defusing quickly, and after each spanking I have to apologise, explain what I am apologising for, and thank him.

I’m in a LOT more trouble this week than I have been for about a year, and it’s probably going to get worse before it gets better, but I’m feeling significantly less distressed than I usually do under extreme stress, and I feel like I’m making more effort to behave better, and more than that, I feel like I’m achieving it. I’m not behaving perfectly yet, and maybe I won’t until all this academic stuff is over, but at least I’m not falling apart, and I’m so grateful that he is facilitating this at the moment because otherwise I’d be crying under my desk and burning copies of Foucault whilst cursing the dumb pretentious philosophy dude in all my favorite French cuss words at this point (I know, irony).

Additionally, you should totally check out Jaye Elise’s blog; she’s started a series where she interviews erotica/erotic romance authors and I had the excitement of being featured on there this week! Thank-you Jaye! Find her blog here: https://jayeelisewrites.wordpress.com/2017/07/29/triple-play-qa-with-katie-douglas/

Also, here’s my latest YouTube video. I recorded it in May and saved it because I knew this month or last month would be too hectic to make a video. It’s an excerpt from His Naughty Little Housewife which is also sort of ironic, given my current situation.

What do you mean that’s not irony? Stop watching Castle already (sidenote: have you seen Castle? It’s great)!

Be still my heart.

Lots of love,
Katie xxxx

My second worst spanking of the year (so far)

Wow so this week has disappeared really quickly! The final edits have been made to my next book, which is a fairytale fantasy, and yesterday, I went on a road trip to the Yorkshire town of Whitby. It’s got tentative links to Bram Stoker (author of Dracula) but they sort of exploit that and ignore it at the same time. For Vampire Country, I’ve always wanted to go to Transylvania in Romania, where the real Dracula Castle is. One day I’ll drive there and it will be awesome.

I’ve never been 100% sure what one is supposed to do at Whitby, but luckily I went with a friend who takes things as (un-)seriously as I do, and we irreverently speculated about the purposes of some of the bizarre ruins at Whitby Abbey and we got fish and chips at a fish and chip shop (I got the large: portion control happens to other people), and I even tried a deep fried chocolate bar.

When I got home, my dearest had made pizza, and there was barely a pinch of vegetable on the entire pizza (this is one of the millions of reasons that I love him). So I’m going to have to eat nothing but vegetables for the next 10 years to make up for all the stuff I ate yesterday.

When I went to bed, my tummy was still so full it was aching.

This trip nearly didn’t happen, though, and here’s why:

I got probably my second worst spanking of the year this week. On Thursday, I walked out of a shop when we were supposed to be choosing paint for my project car. I kept walking. I’ve had a series of difficult days this week, where I’ve felt very upset due to a few recent events, and Thursday was especially hard. My back ached and I felt like we were wasting the day looking at paint when it was my husband’s only day off for the week and we could be doing a million more interesting things. So I left. Ultimately, that wasted more time than if we’d spent five more minutes staring at tins of Hammerite.

Thing was, I never told him where I was going or what I was doing, I just walked out. I sat down on the first bench I could see but he never found me, and I got cold and bored so I went into a nearby store and spent £14 on chocolate because there were no packs of raspberry or strawberry donuts (sidenote: lemon donuts… don’t taste like lemon curd. They’re awful). If I’m going to be in huge trouble for one thing, I tend to stop caring a bit.

So it turned out he’d tried to call me numerous times and my phone hadn’t notified me because I accidentally set it to “do not disturb” at 5am when it kept buzzing with Facebook messages and waking me up on the one day of the week when we can sleep in. I told him where I was, and he told me not to move. I opened some of the chocolate I’d bought.

So I couldn’t really run away when this random person’s dog attacked me and they started having a go at me like it was my fault for eating chocolate within 10 feet of where someone wanted to walk a dog, so I just yelled at them about how other people have feelings too and (I probably wasn’t very convincing because I was quite upset) that I actually really like dogs when they’re not snapping and growling while jumping up me. Then my husband found me and hauled me away from that argument, and his face had the darkest death glare. I am still surprised that he didn’t spank me outside the supermarket, regardless of the consequences, but then he has a lot more self-control than I do.

He took me around the corner and it transpired that this had all taken over an hour, and he’d walked home with the shopping before coming back to find me. He told me that when we got home, I was in so much trouble. And then he told me I’d better go straight to the garage (where the car was getting two tyres changed) and pick up the car, because I wouldn’t be able to sit in it to drive it later on. He said he’d been very worried when he couldn’t find me. He said a lot of other things as well but I can’t remember all of them. I remember that I started to cry a lot because I felt really bad about what I’d done. I remember that he came with me to the garage, and he tried to carry my heavy bag of chocolate but I wouldn’t let him, and we were in the street with a lot of slow moving traffic, so there wasn’t anything he could really do about that.

We went to the garage and collected the car. When we got home, he let me have a cup of tea before we went upstairs because I’d not drank much all day and I’d been crying a lot. I’m prone to dehydration when that happens.

Then it was time.

He arranged two pillows for me to lie over and I got on the bed. He told me I could either take this punishment or be grounded for the foreseeable future. He said he was still deciding whether to ground me anyway, because what if I did something like that when I was out with someone else? I didn’t want to be grounded because the very next day I was supposed to be taking one of my friends on a road trip, and her husband had been out of town all week so she was on her own, and I didn’t want to let her down. I’d made/canceled plans several times over the past couple of weeks, and I didn’t want to flake on yet another thing. I didn’t say all that though, because this was so not the time for talking about things. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to avoid this, so I decided to save my reasoning for another time.

He tied my hands above my head, probably because last time I was in trouble (Sunday), I put my hand back and caused him to land the spoon very sharply on the bony part of my back. It’s still aching. I’ve developed a bad habit of putting my hand back this year which we’re trying to break because he’s caught my hand a few times, too. He fastened my ankles, too, because a couple of times recently I’ve kicked him during a spanking. I waited for him to bare my bottom, which he did quite quickly. I hate that cold feeling when I know it’s going to be really bad, when I don’t want to complain about how cold I am, but at the same time it makes me long for him to start just to get it over with.

He began with a hand spanking, and he didn’t go as hard as he could have done, but it lasted several minutes, and was still enough to make me wriggle and try to kick. Then he moved in with the smallest cane.

We have broken a couple of canes over the past few months. One because I reached back and snapped it mid-caning (this is where the putting my hand back thing started) and one because he caught me with it so hard. The trouble with that is we’ve gone from having four canes of a graduated size to having only two canes. The really small whippy one and the really large solid one. So now, every time I’m in trouble, I get the really large solid cane, because I broke the one that was one size smaller.

I am a little bit scared of that really large cane. I don’t know why that didn’t occur to me earlier in the day, except that perhaps I didn’t think he was actually going to do anything. I’d already been in trouble over something earlier in the week that he kept telling me he was going to punish me the next day, then the next, then the next, and it never actually happened. I had twenty strokes of the really thin cane, because he does them in sets of five, and then he paused for a moment to check I was ok. I was. That cane isn’t very bad unless it’s used in very rapid succession.

The big cane was next, and thankfully there were only ten of those, because I was in tears by stroke number two, and biting down on my pillow really hard to muffle the sound. That caning was horrible, and it made me wonder how I ever got into spanking in the first place let alone why I needed my husband to use that cane on me, even as I started to feel better about what I’d done. I’ve noticed that the things that go unpunished (or, lightly punished) are the ones that I keep revisiting and feeling bad about for months or years afterwards.

By the fifth or sixth stroke I was yowling like a cat in a bath. It’s a good job our neighbors are illegal pharmacists, otherwise we’d probably have a lot of explaining to do when I make noises like that.

When the tenth one was done, he reassured me again and he gave me a little minute to calm down before the next thing, although he didn’t unfasten me or put me in the corner (I suppose he didn’t want to run the risk that I might run off again; even though I have never run away from the corner, I have tried to run away during a couple of spankings).

The next thing was the wooden spoon. We have a very special wooden spoon that I found in one of those luxury homewares shops. I think fancy people with photogenic kitchens use spoons like that for cooking posh food like Lobster Soup. It’s made from a very dense wood with a tight grain, so it’s got no flex at all. It’s got a very smooth surface and, for the fact it’s only eight inches long, it’s probably my least favorite implement, because it can get into parts of my anatomy that most things don’t reach, like the sensitive skin immediately surrounding my bottom hole. To be honest if I’d known how much trouble that spoon would cause me, I never would have bought it. It didn’t help that we had it for about three years before he ever used it on me, and when he did, my strong negative reaction was enough to make it a staple and I’ve never gotten away from it ever since.

He went for twenty of the spoon.

I cried a lot for the first five or so swats, then I reached that point where I wasn’t crying any more, just feeling. We don’t talk about that much in spanking literature, and maybe it’s just me who does that, but when I get past a certain threshold, I stop crying again and mostly stop moving. It’s not subspace, but it’s definitely a place where I seem to stop being at odds with what is happening and I just let it wash over me.

The last thing was the thin cane again. This time he used it very quickly, and over the top of the cane and spoon marks, it made my bottom feel like it was being stung by a hive of bees. I was still beyond crying though.

After he stopped, we did more intimate things then we talked, and he told me that he wasn’t going to ground me this time, but if I did it again he was going to ground me for six weeks and he was going to throw out all the spanking implements except for the big cane, which he would use once a week the whole time I was grounded.
I am not going to do that again, and driving to Whitby was uncomfortable, but my friend and I were walking around for most of the day which was good. Sitting, two days later, is still uncomfortable.

People think spanking isn’t an effective punishment for those of us who like spanking, and there’s a lot of BDSM people who like to stand around speculating about that without troubling themselves to ask anyone who actually does it. It’s becoming an echo chamber of sorts in the comments sections of some BDSM websites, and I don’t think that some people can mentally separate the group of people who just like pain from the group of people who don’t like pain but need it anyway. It’s that silly assumption that every submissive is also a masochist.

Spanking is a way of reconciling difficulties between two people, it’s a way of keeping communication open when plenty of people in vanilla relationships (and BDSM ones without a punishment dynamic) have no recourse but to argue for days, not speak to each other, start an affair, or “punish” their partners by denying them sex. To be honest, I think emotionally that I couldn’t stand being in a vanilla relationship like that for the long term. I’ve had other relationships in the past and I thought they were dull and disappointing because I can’t stand being in a relationship where people don’t solve their differences. My pet hate is people telling their husband/wife that they’re fine when they’re not.

I feel like I have to put this disclaimer at the bottom of this post, because I don’t want to be in trouble with the Domestic Violence Brigade, who are championing a worthy cause by tackling non-consensual domestic violence, but they sometimes get the wrong idea about people like me:

Everything mentioned in this post was a consensual work of fantasy that either never happened or happened consensually or something along those lines. My husband may or may not be a small island off the straits of Gibraltar. The word “spanking” may or may not mean “fed me chocolate.”