I’m a music lover. Pop, classical, rock—anything and just about everything, really. Certain pieces pick me up in the morning; there are things I only listen to when I’m angry or sad; I have a whole playlist devoted to… well, play
The Soundtrack of My Life is comprised of a hundred different songs whose notes have drifted into my mind at particular moments, accompaniments to events, triumphs and tragedies alike.
Music is also a near constant companion when I’m writing. Which is not to say I write while listening to music—rather, that nearly every story I’ve written has a song of its own—a particular piece of music that evokes the tone I’m trying to capture, or that puts me in the headspace that I want to be in as a particular character. Sometimes, as happened with my story in Spank!, the music is the inspiration itself.
Like it or Not is a Madonna song (any disparaging comments about Madge will be met with swift and exacting punishment!) that closes out the Confessions on a Dance Floor album. It’s got a dirty-sexy baseline and some religious imagery that made my porn writing synapses light up like Christmas. Now, where I’ve gone with my dirty imaginings is far removed from where the song itself goes, and the resulting story, “What Jackie Gives Me” really has nothing to do with a strong woman owning her power and sexuality…then again, maybe it does
Here’s an excerpt:
“Would you like this, my sweet?” He asks, holding it out to me, his voice a low whisper I don’t recognize. I nod silently, unsure of his mood, and offer a tentative smile.
“Go ahead.” He says, and I lean forward, then hesitate, my eyes flickering from the apple to Jackie.
“Bite it.” He says, and my teeth part its flesh, and it’s firm and delicious and sweet. I try to stifle the moan that wells up inside me, but I can’t, and it escapes into the space between us. My eyes fly to Jackie’s, but they are unfathomably dark, and a flush stains his alabaster cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye I spy a droplet of juice fall from the apple to Jackie’s palm. It slides down to his wrist and I impulsively lean in and lick up the drop with my tongue.
Jackie makes a choking sound and drops the apple as though it burns. His chest is heaving as though he’s out of breath and I freeze under his icy glare. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. I don’t know why he’s so angry. I look down and sit very still. After a moment I hear movement, but I still don’t look up; I don’t want to do anything to make him angrier.
“Here.” Jackie says, and I have to look at him then. He’s holding a glass of wine out to me. I don’t want to take it. Sometimes Jackie lets me have wine, but then he’s always happy and we laugh together like we’re sharing a secret. I don’t want the wine now, not when he’s so mad. I worry my lip between my teeth.
“Take it.” He says, thrusting the glass toward me. I reach up with trembling hands, but I’m so nervous that it falls from my fingers. A cascade of deep red soaks the front of my dress, my beautiful white sundress with ruffles and lace.
“You’ve ruined it!” Jackie roars, and my lips start to tremble, tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.
Then Jackie’s hands are on me, pushing me down, so quickly I can’t voice a protest. I’m on my back on the blanket and Jackie is astride me, tearing at the dress with a fury.
“Wanton!” He spits. “Temptress -” 
“Nooooo…” I moan, my head shaking back and forth in denial.
“ – with your greedy mouth and sinful tongue.” His eyes are alight with madness, and his body is hard where it’s pressed against me. The seams of my dress give way beneath his hands, and in a moment I am naked beneath him. He staggers to his feet, my ruined dress in his hand, and looks down at me contemptuously as I try to cover myself.
“Look how you try to hide yourself from me!” Jackie shouts, and I am miserable, crying in earnest because I don’t know what to do.
“You are no sweet, innocent little thing,” he says, throwing the tattered dress away from him, “you are a wicked, wicked girl.” Jackie falls to his knees, and before I can guess his intent, his hand is wrapped around my ankle and he’s pulling me toward him.
“You need to be punished.” He says, and his eyes are bright like the Reverend Carmichael’s are when he talks about God and the Devil. I try to scramble backwards; try to pull my leg from his grasp, but Jackie is strong, and no matter how much I struggle, he keeps on pulling me closer…
What do I love about spanking? Everything. ’Nuff said.
Be sure to check out the rest of the blog tour!
9/1 D. L. King
9/2 Cervo Logical Lust
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