V is for

V today and it’s the Victorians, those prudish, proper folks who are frequently considered to be sexually inhibited. English women were told to lie back and think of England while men grew ridiculous mustaches and beards, which must have been off putting when close up.   Clothes were worn tight, multi-layered and covered everything from neck to ankle.  Books were written on displaying the correct manners and deportment, how to dine and entertain and naming parts of the body was considered vulgar, including the legs, neither mind the bottom.

whiskersvictorian bridePull back the curtains of etiquette and behind the scenes, perhaps things were not quite what they were in public. Doctors had a fascination with the female orgasm linking it to all kinds of strange conditions and the rise of the camera led to a huge surge in nude and explicit photography. Other kinds of books were written, erotic and not about table manners.

I introduce Viola, the heroine of my Victorian spanking book, who begins her journey all young and innocent and ends it…. differently.

Viola and her husband, Anton (no mustache), have been up to some naughtiness in a secluded lodge in the woods. The things they have been doing give rise to doubts in her mind.


“Don’t worry, they will go soon. Some balm when we return home,” soothed Anton. “What did you think of our little game?” he asked, as he dressed.

She struggled to stand and a tear descended her cheek. “Is what we do wrong, Anton? Is our marriage natural or evil?”

Anton draped a throw over her, then gathered up his wife in his arms and held her tight. “My need for what we do together shouldn’t occupy your thoughts. Negate those anxieties. You do as your husband wishes and your obedience is natural and honorable. How could that make us evil?”

“Surely, what you just did to me is not how men are with their wives?”

“You are such an innocent.” Anton stroked her face. “Husbands take their wives to bed with little thought or skill. They know not how to make their wives enjoy the experience. I’m showing you. You’re fortunate, Viola, and shouldn’t worry. We gain our pleasures together—how could that be wrong?”

She sniffed and nodded. “I’m grateful to you. Taking a lowly born woman as myself as your wife.”

He placed his lips by her ears and spoke abruptly. “Are you afraid of me, Viola?” She stiffened on his lap. Her head had been resting on his shoulder while he ran his hand up and down her bare thigh—she lifted her head away from him.

“No,” she said, after a pause. “But I do find you austere.”

Anton said nothing. He ceased to rove and settled his hand on her leg with his fingers spread apart.

She stared at his hand, the one upon which he had worn the glove. By her ear, she could hear his breaths, they had changed pace—faster once again. “I would like to know what you are thinking.” Her request, whispered, barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

“I cannot give you that,” said Anton in a pained voice. “Once… I did and…. You must trust me, Viola. Truly, you are important to me. Now get dressed.” He gave her a tiny shove.

Overcome with fatigue, and fearful that she couldn’t control the mare, he put her before him on his steed. Taking the reins of the other horse they slowly made their way out of the woods and back across the deer park to the house.

Viola was struck with sudden curiosity: the hut had been prepared for them.

“Did you take your first wife to that cabin?” she asked abruptly. Behind her, his body went rigid and he reined the horse to a standstill. There was a moment of silence.

Anton spoke as if through gritted teeth. “No. Never. It was prepared for us. Only us.” The horses moved again. “Viola, you are not to talk about Margot again. I forbid it.”

“Yes, sir.”

She rested her head against his shoulder and kept silent. She had angered him and she didn’t want him to be displeased with her, not after the erotic delights in the hut. As they rode, she reflected on the experience and decided it was something she would like to repeat. Why, she didn’t know, but perhaps it was because he now ruled her body, not her.


jaypeaches finalAfter a chance meeting, young Viola Pritchard finds herself married to the enigmatic Sir Anton Valise. The innocent Viola falls fast for her new husband. She loves him and only wishes to please him and be the wife he wishes her to be. She’s surprised to find that she craves Anton’s passionate and dominant lovemaking, and even lusts for him to take her in more erotic ways.

Determined not to repeat mistakes from his past, Anton tries to keep Viola at a distance. Her sweet submission and unflagging loyalty prove to be his weakness. The baronet introduces rules to ensure his new wife will remain obedient, not trusting that her intentions could be so pure.

When Viola discovers a series of secret rooms and a diary left behind by Anton’s late wife, she unearths a chilling mystery. With tension between the couple rising, Anton and Viola’s relationship reaches a crisis point. Can Viola crack the armor around her baronet’s safely guarded heart?

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6 thoughts on “V is for”

  1. I loved this scene Jaye and how Anton reassured Viola. It seems however, that maybe they each have their own insecurities?


  2. Hi Jaye, what a wonderful snippet. Anton’s first wife is a taboo topic, and although Viola agrees not to talk about her, I am sure she wants to know more. I loved how sort of formal they were with each other, even after a night in bed. Viola seems to know so well what she should do as a wife, and sexual pleasure for her is not part of that. I can see how glad she must be to have Anton, because he wants pleasure for her too. Wonderful. Thank you for sharing.



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