Frantic fingers

Is it possible to write a book in a matter of days?  Well, the essence of a book – the skeletal structure upon which to hang the flesh.  I appear to be finding out.  I thought I would slow up in the approach to the holidays, but instead I have been a juggernaut, crashing into my computer with reams of words spewing out on to the screen.  My fingers have that frantic need-to-type-faster feel to them. The best decision I took at school was learning to touch type.

Weeks can go by when I have to squeeze words out of my head, and then at the most inopportune moment I’m suddenly drowning in them.

As one book begins to emerge, another is close to completion. Written and packaged, I have to decide to submit it or tweak a little more.

It’s my first historical adventure into the world of erotica and that makes it especially difficult to let go and type THE END, at the end.

This book tells the story of Viola, who marries a baronet after merely a few days courtship. Then she discovers he has a particular requirements for maintaining her wifely obedience.

Here is an excerpt as she discovers what happens when she breaks one of her husband’s rules.

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Viola did not desire pain. Nor did she wish for her husband’s displeasure. What she craved was his approval and the romantic heart within her could see past the discipline to the other man she married. The thought of all he was to her triggered her surrender. Clutching her petticoats to her chest, she approached the armchair and bent over it, allowing the skirt to rest on the seat.

His hand roughly pulled down the underwear exposing her bare bottom. Viola gasped as she felt the rush of cool air over her flesh. Mortification rose up to her mouth, a bitter taste of discomfort at her revealing pose. Her sex, between her legs, seemed to have a mind of its own. While in her head she was afraid of her impending spanking, her silly pussy began to behave otherwise. Burying her face down in her arms, she waited.