New Release! The Brat and the Bodyguard

Dear Reader,
What can I say? There’s not much time, so I’ll keep it short. I was engaged to man who turned out to be an international drug lord. I have fled to my father’s house to hide, only to have my ex fiancĂ© issue a very serious threat: I come home to him, or he’ll kill me and my father. Those are my two choices.
A New Release from Tia Fanning!
Do you believe in love at first spank?
So my father has hired a security firm to keep me safe, and he’s paid for personal protection in the form of tall, dark and handsome.
Mr. Bodyguard thinks my bad attitude is more brat than bitch, and he has a solution in mind to correct the problem: a spanking. I was not having any of that. However, when I seduce him on the rebound, I kinda agreed to let him dish out a little corporal punishment in exchange for guaranteed multiple orgasms.
So here’s my issue: He’s held his end of the bargain. Should I uphold mine (assuming we both live through the night)?
Please come armed with advice…and perhaps a weapon. ~Ms. Brat

Fantastic: Opening Story

That’s the thing about marrying a man you met while at a work conference in Las Vegas. You know, he tells you all the important stuff about himself, but your mind kind of glosses over it because your hormones are making you giddy, and the sex is freaking fantastic.

I mean, seriously, —Fan. Tas. Tic. I’m talking about sex so mind-blowingly good that it ruins you for all other men because the probability of finding another fella that talented is like reading the odds on the back of a Powerball ticket. Getting all of it right is like 1 in 200,000,000.

Anyway, you’re sloppy in love and this gifted man explains his important stuff to you yet again, but this time with a paper contract outlining his terms, because that important stuff is really, really important to him. And because you’re in love, you sign the contract and agree to abide by it, and you even repeated the word “obey” at the quickie walk-in-chapel wedding ceremony. After all, you can tell that he’s a good man, and he’s promised you everything you could ever want and/or need, and you know that he can deliver it—if only you can accept this one tenet in your relationship.

What’s a little spanking between husband and wife, right?

Domestic discipline is easy, right?

Behave, there’s no discipline. Misbehave, and hubby will bring on the discipline.

All fair and reasonable.

No problem.

Well, six months of blissful marriage passes before something bad happens, and you’re standing in your bedroom frantically scanning the terms of that signed contract, because earlier that day, you got yourself arrested. Your new husband bailed you out and now you’re both back at home, and he’s standing there—with a huge wooden paddle—demanding that you bend over so he can bring down the wrath of God upon your ass.

So much for fair and reasonable….

“Fuck.” I muttered, crumbling the contract in my fist. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I really should have read the damn thing better.

“Language,” he warned.

“Gah!” I stomped my foot. “What else am I supposed to say? I’m the one on the receiving end of this!”

“Damn right,” he exclaimed. “You were the one arrested for reckless driving.”

“It was an accident.”

“Forty miles over the speed limit in an active school zone is not an accident. It is negligence.”

“It was five minutes before the restriction ended!” I explained for the zillionth time. “There were no kids!”


“Okay, that cop was being a total ass.” I tossed the ball-o’-contract onto the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to look at the clock before I entered the area. Like I said, I didn’t see any kids. And it was literally five minutes before 15 turned into 45 miles per hour.”

In true HoH fashion, or what I imagined that to be since I was new to this, my husband crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not a valid excuse. Especially since you were clocked at 56. That’s still eleven miles over the regular speed limit.”

Ah, the tone. He gave me the tone. The “this is final and I will not be deterred” authoritarian tone.

Swallowing my exasperation, I flicked my gaze to the wood paddle he held in his hand. “Really? You’re really going to beat me for this?”

Though he masked his expression, I saw the hurt flash in his eyes all the same. It was a low blow on my part, I know, but I couldn’t help it. This all seemed so unfair to me.

“Discipline would be the proper term,” he said with admirable restraint. “Correct would also work. And yes, I believe a paddling is in order.”


Mimicking him, I crossed my arms and glared back. “Me going to jail wasn’t punishment enough, huh?”

Silence. It was the ultimate stare-down.

Looking at him holding that instrument of pain—a weapon, if I wanted to be nasty about it—was affecting me more than I cared to admit. My day had been horrible enough without this added to it. Arrested, booked, a few hours in jail, a court date…

Funny, a therapist once told me that when we stress, we regress. So if the sudden stinging in my eyes and the nearly overwhelming urge to stomp my foot and sling cruel, careless words were any indication of that datum, I was losing maturity at an alarming rate. And the lingering silence was only encouraging the relapse.

“If you’re afraid, sweetheart, just say so,” he offered.

“Scared?” I felt the enraged flush rise to my cheeks and my vision blurred with welling tears. “I’m not scared, and I’m definitely not scared of you—” Fuck. My throat tightened. I blinked back the brimming moisture and locked my jaw. I would not cry. I would not cry. I would not cry—

I inhaled a shaky breath and pressed my closed eyes so I would not give the asshole the satisfaction of seeing me lose it. Damn him. He would not break me. I wouldn’t let him.

When I recaptured my composure, I dropped my hands, fisted them at my sides, and straightened my spine.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I continued. “—I might lose my driver’s license, my car insurance, and I might go to prison. I’ll lose my job. But you—all you can think about is spanking me with that stupid paddle! What the hell is wrong with you?” I swiped the angry tears off my cheeks before asking, “Do you not love me at all?”

He exhaled heavily, laid the paddle on the dresser and came toward me.

“Don’t,” I whispered, backing away and shaking my head. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

I retreated, not because I thought he was going to hit me or anything, but because I knew if he touched me, if he took me into his strong arms and enveloped me in that light cologne scent that I loved so much, I would bawl like a baby. That was the frustrating part. He could disarm me and crumble all my defenses with one good hug.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said, trying to gather me close despite my efforts to thwart him. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. I hate you.”

And poof, there went the rest of my maturity, along with the rest of my composure. He pulled me to him and, like an overtaxed dam, I ruptured, pouring all my turmoil into his chest while he held me tight and whispered that everything would be all right.

For the most part, I was blessedly numb, just content to indulge in the warmth and security of his embrace where I felt protected and loved and cherished. But as the sobbing quieted into the occasional hiccup, I knew I would have to return to the real world and face the problem at hand.

The discipline contract was very clear concerning our marriage. I either willingly submitted to his discipline, or I refused to submit to it. But that refusal came with a price: we would file for divorce as soon as feasible.

Asshole. While the two choices sucked balls, they were choices all the same. I didn’t have to let him hit me. I could just get up and walk out. He wouldn’t stop me.

The worse thing about the stupid contract was that he wasn’t trying to force me to endure anything that I hadn’t initially agreed upon in the first place—in front of a notary, as proven by my initials beside each paragraph indicating I read every word of the damn thing, and my legal signature at the bottom that claimed I would abide by it. He wasn’t trying to exercise any power over me that I hadn’t granted him.

I entered the contract, consented to the relationship. I guess I just didn’t get…

“Why you want to spank me so badly…?”

He exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to spank you.”

“Then don’t—”

“I’m going to because I have to.”

I pulled back. “No, you don’t. I’d rather you didn’t.”

He actually smiled at that, tenderly smoothing back the strands of hair that hung in my face. “Oh, sweetheart. I do. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t live up to my responsibilities and keep the promises I made to you? I love you too much to not spank you.”


“No, love. What you did was wrong and dangerous. And as old-fashion and politically incorrect as it might be in this day and age, it is my duty as your loving, doting husband to make sure this never happens again.”

“I promise it will never happen again,” I rushed, wiping my wet cheeks.

“I know. And I will ensure it doesn’t.”

“I can ensure that on my own without you or your paddle.” I looked away, biting my lip to stop it from sticking out as if pouting.

“Listen,” he urged, capturing my chin and looking deep into my eyes. “I promised in our wedding vows to be true to you,” he whispered. “To love, honor and cherish you. To protect you and keep you…care for you. And by God, as long as we are married, I will keep everyone of those vows.”

I won’t lie, it was kind of hard not too swoon at his courtly chivalry despite being outdated and weird in this modern world. And yes, it was his way with words that got me to marry him so quickly in the first place. He was the first man I ever met that wanted to take care of me, not vice versa. He was a sweet, thoughtful, loyal, loving…

He had a sensitive way to him that always seemed at odds with his heavy-handed beliefs. A pure romantic, but a fucking stubborn spankophiliac. Who was like that?

“Hurting me doesn’t seem in line with those vows,” I finally said, resisting the lull of his pretty sentiments.

“I disagree. If my paddle descending upon your sexy derriere will ensure that, from this moment forth, you will pay attention to what you are doing when you are behind the wheel and not break another speed limit again for fear of having another round with this paddle, I will have honored my vows.”

“But it’s going to hurt.”

“I know. But it wouldn’t be a behavior modifier if it didn’t.”

It was then that I realized—I could try to debate and argue with reason, I could cry and plead my case, but he wasn’t going to back down. He wasn’t going to change his mind. This was who he was.

“No.” I pulled from his hold and stepped back, shaking my head.


I paused, took a deep breath, then gazed down at hands worrying themselves against my queasy stomach, afraid to see his anger. “I’m sorry, but no. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I…I just can’t. You can’t spank me.”

A Sweet Domestic Discipline Erotic Romance Story featuring Spanking and Sex
New Release Now Available!

Fantastic! A New Release from Tia Fanning (Domestic Discipline Spanking Story!)

Dear Reader,
This morning, my fantastic husband of only six months bailed my sorry ass out of jail. I am grateful for that and for him. But now that we’re home, he wants to bring the broadside of a wooden paddle down on said ass as punishment for my behavior. And I’m not having it!
Seriously? A spanking? Oh, hell no. Needless to say, the fight is on.
Look, I love my husband more than words can express, but I don’t understand all this Domestic Discipline stuff. I’m trying to get my hubby to see reason, but he’s not budging, and I don’t know if I can let him correct me. I’m beside myself with heartache. What should I do?
Do I let our wonderful love story end here and now? Or should I buck up and bend over?

Distraught with Discipline

A Domestic Discipline Erotic Love Story by Tia Fanning

Basic BDSM Negotiation - An important read...

If you are beginning in the BDSM Lifestyle, please read this...
Key guidelines at building a meaningful BDSM negotiation by Liam McKenzie.

Basic BDSM Negotiation - Non-Monogamy Blog by SwingTowns: Have you thought about what it takes to be successful as a dominant or submissive? Like a diamond, there are so many facets to the world of BDSM...

Popular Kinks and Fetishes: Which Is Your Favorite?

Popular Kinks and Fetishes: Which Is Your Favorite? - Non-Monogamy Blog by SwingTowns: Kinks, Fetishes, Subcultures, Alternative Lifestyles - What does it all mean? Tired of living a plain 'vanilla' life? Ready to try something new?

Popular Kinks and Fetishes and so on...
Don't Be Shy~ Share!

Jealousy: The Monster Within

Jealousy: The Monster Within - Non-Monogamy Blog by SwingTowns: Take a few moments to analyze the who, what, when, where and why of your Jealousy. Sometimes what we perceive is not the reality of the situation.

A Sexy Green-Eyed Monster Called Jealousy...

Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on. Othello (3.3.170–72)

Have you ever felt this way?

It is literally less than ten seconds. Take a moment to listen to the smooth voice of La Petite Mort...

Oriana and the Three Werebears by Tia Fanning - Audio Teaser

Sample from Oriana and the Three Werebears Audible – Unabridged
Tia Fanning (Author), La Petite Mort (Narrator), Ruby Rivers (Narrator), LLC Resplendence Publishing (Publisher).

Kink and Fetish: Is there a difference?

Kink and Fetish: Is there a difference? - Non-Monogamy Blog by SwingTowns: As lifestyles once shunned as “deviant” become more mainstream, kink and fetish continue to appear in general conversation. But is there a difference?

Domestic Discipline: He Wants to Spank Me. Should I Let Him?

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How to Share Your Fantasies with Your Partner (Without Pissing Them Off!)

How to Share Your Fantasies with Your Partner (Without Pissing Them Off!) - Non-Monogamy Blog by SwingTowns: Five tips on how to effectively communicate your fantasies to your partner and reach a pleasurable conclusion for all parties involved.

Now Available on Audible!

Have you read this?

 Now Available on Audible

Oriana Ricci has taken over the family business--flying cargo and rich tourists around the barely inhabited Kodiak Archipelago. When her plane malfunctions and she's forced to make an emergency landing, she finds herself stranded in the middle of a National Wildlife Refuge. With no civilization for miles and no hope of rescue, she thinks all is lost... Until she stumbles upon the entrance to an underground bunker.

Jack, Jordan, and Jonathan McMathan own and operate a secret security firm contracted by the US Government. Hidden away in an old Cold War spy station located the middle of the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge, the brothers are not only able to do their top secret jobs safely without fear of discovery, but are better to protect their other, more personal secret: They have the ability to shift into Kodiak bears.

Like a fairy tale gone bad, the brothers return home to find their lunch tasted--or eaten, their computer chairs adjusted--or broken, and a beautiful blond sleeping in one of their beds. This situation poses a big problem for the brothers... Their location is now compromised, but more importantly, what are they to do with the lady?

Come Follow Me...

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New Social Network for Me! =)

I just want to thank the wonderful people over at SwingTowns for everything they do!

 You can now also find me on SwingTowns! ♥

Deer Creek: Lockdown


Battered and sitting in jail, Beatrice Maxwell is having a rough night. A few years earlier, a teenaged Beatrice had promised Deer Creek’s sexy sheriff that she would never trust strangers again—especially not after a joyride-turned-speed-chase found her in the back of a stolen vehicle…and then over the sexy sheriff’s knee. Despite living her life as an upstanding citizen since that fateful day, Beatrice has broken her stranger-danger promise and now finds herself in trouble with the law again, this time for attempted murder.  Sheriff Tom Clayton knows his deputy only arrested Beatrice to keep her safe—not only from her own self-incrimination, but from the dangerous man she opened her front door to greet. Eric Cartier is on the loose in Deer Creek, and there is no way Tom is going to let Beatrice out of his sight before the suspect is apprehended and put in jail. Until then, his little felon is on custodial lockdown…with him. Tom sweeps Beatrice away to his cabin where he is determined to not only keep her safe, but examine their turbulent past and secure their future.