SCI SPANKS 2014
Sci Spanks 2014 is finally here! Please visit Governing Ana for the prize list, sign-up sheet, and free books.
You can win from a prize
pool valued at over $1,000, including a Kindle Fire or Nook HD donated by
Blushing Books!
Many authors will also offer a contest on their
individual blogs. Your comment on their blogs
automatically enters you in both the main contest and the individual contests!
How do you play?
1.Visit each blog between Wednesday, June 25th and
Sunday, June 29th to read the posted stories and excerpts.
Note:
Natasha Knight’s story takes place in a nonconsensual setting, meaning the
heroine has not consented to getting spanked. If you are offended or alarmed,
you may prefer not to read her story.
2. Leave a comment answering the story question on
each blog. You will receive one entry
per blog for the grand prize drawing.
You will also be automatically entered in that author’s individual
contest, if she has one.
3.If you have visited all of the blogs, visit Ana’s blog
to sign up for FIVE bonus entries to the grand prize.
4.Deadline is midnight EST (UTC -5) on June 29!!
5. If you successfully completed a previous
challenge (Love Spanks 2014, Spank or Treat 2013, Spankee Doodle 2013, Love
Spanks 2013, or Spank or Treat 2012), you may add “VIP” to your comments. You will earn THREE bonus entries toward the
grand prize. (Yes, we will be doing this
again. Yes, if you successfully complete
the Love Spanks 2014 challenge you can become a VIP for our next activity!)
6. If you are a writer of fiction (any kind), add “W”
to your comments to be entered in the special author prize drawings.
7. If you are Sci Spanks 2014 Ambassador, please add
“Amb” to your comments to receive your extra prize drawing.
8.Visit Governing Ana or any of the participating blogs on Wednesday, July 2nd to find out the lucky winners. Will it be you? We will also announce prizes on the Sci Spanks Facebook page.
Like these events? Want to support your favorite
scifi authors? Become a Sci Spanks Ambassador! In exchange for promoting this
event, you will receive one extra prize entry, AND you are still eligible to
participate and win prizes! To find out the details, send an email to
oliviastarke@ymail.com, with the subject line “Sci Spanks Ambassador.”
For more information, updates, and a list of
participating authors, please visit Anastasia Vitsky’s
blog.
Tweet #scispanks on Twitter!
Join the exclusive chat with Sci Spanks authors!
Message Anastasia
Vitsky on Facebook or contact Anne Ferrer Odom to receive
an invitation.
For my contribution to Ana’s event, I would like to offer a small taste from my Sci Fi novel, Heartsong, which is still being edited.
Although the novel itself contains very little in the way of spanking, I thought it would be fun to imagine what would happen to my heroine if the man in her life finally decided that her annoying behaviour required some attention.
I hope you enjoy reading it, but if you don’t, just blame Anastasia for inviting me along.
Thanks, Ana, for giving me this opportunity, and for being a good friend.
Excerpt from Heartsong - Book One Eriduh
I’m married to an alien.
My
husband, Breeheny, is a bona fide extraterrestrial. You can Google him if you
don’t believe me.
Not
only does he come with every spine-tingling attribute on a scale from 1 to 10,
such as extraordinary height teamed with mouth-watering physical advantages,
that cause my libido on occasion severe disbelief, but he is pretty hot in the
looks department as well.
As if
this isn’t enough to knock a girl sideways, he has a voice that sounds like
rich melted chocolate, and the sort of strong determination that makes you
realize he is a man used to taking charge and getting his own way at all times
and under all circumstances.
Therein
lies a problem.
Every
upside has its downside. Every positive has its negative.
Every
blatantly reckless and disobedient action on my part, has its consequence.
A
consequence that often seems to result in the aforesaid alien’s left hand doing
its utmost to turn the silky, pale and sensitive cheeks of my bottom into two
swollen and scarlet globes you could quite adequately warm your hands on, on a
cold winter’s day, or even fry an egg on if you happened to have lost your
frying pan.
This
means that as soon as my howls have died down to manageable decibels, and I
have ceased my anguished bunny-hops whilst trying desperately to rub away some
of the pain, I promise myself I will divorce him at the very earliest
opportunity, and in between breathless sobs and hiccups I do my best to inform
him of this intention. He, on the other hand, simply folds me in a quick hug,
kisses the top of my head, and smirks.
He is
the type of man who thinks nothing of laying down rules, stating that they must
be obeyed, yet who frequently omits to inform me of (a) the reason for the
rules, or (b) the consequences of ignoring them. If you have a man like mine,
then you have my full sympathy.
Nothing
annoys me more than a man like this. Especially as he is the type who never
hesitates to warm my bottom using not only his hand, but an eighteen inch
wooden ruler (yes, I know it is prehistoric, but believe me when I tell you it
does the job) each and every time I am guilty of usurping his authority in the
smallest of ways, such as going for an unauthorized stroll around his
spaceship, keeping his crew from carrying out their duties, or attempting to
borrow his flyer though I have been told categorically never to fly unaccompanied until he considers me to have gained
experience.
Not
surprisingly on one such recent and momentous occasion, and in order to rub
salt into my wounds, perhaps to emphasize the fact that he has an entirely
different take on the situation, he warned me that if he ever catches me joy-riding in his flyer again, he will ensure that
my bottom remains hot and blazing for a week, not just a day or two.
Let me
explain.
Breeheny
has an obsession with my safety. I, on the other hand, find this irritating and
inconvenient – I am a grown woman after all, and English.
Sadly
it is my blatant disregard for both safety and rules that has resulted in what
Breheny says is a written-off flyer,
barely off the production line, with brightwork so glossy and new it looked as
if it was still wet.
It is
this disregard that has caused him to drop an entire container of freshly
brewed latte and spit the remainder over half his Bridge and the officers on duty
there, has led to a spanking of truly epic proportions, and causes me yet again
to consider my propensity for divorce action.
**********
The
day starts off normally enough.
The
hairbrush comes down for what could possibly be the fifteenth time. Unfortunately
I am bawling my eyes out and can’t count even if you beg me to.
“You
have used a whole week’s supply of water in just ten minutes.”
Breheny’s
voice sounds about as pained as my rapidly reddening rear.
“We’ve
been over this again and again. Until we can be reliably assured of coming out
of a wormhole in the vicinity of a hydrogen based planet, and therefore having
access to fresh supplies, the rule is the same for you as for any other person
aboard this ship. You conserve water.”
Swat
Swat Swat
He
increases his tempo.
“Why
you have to be constantly reminded is a complete mystery to me.”
Swat
Swat Swat
“When
I come off the Bridge I expect to be able to have the same length of shower you
have the privilege of taking.”
Swat
Swat Swat
“I do
not find it remotely funny to cover myself all over with this smelly, feminine,
lavender, excuse for a cleansing bar you call soap, only to have the warning
buzzer go and the water to cease running.”
Swat
Swat Swat
“And
all because you either couldn’t be bothered to wait for me to share a shower,
or you decided to take a shower twice as long as anyone else.”
Swat
Swat Swat
He
throws down my hairbrush and sits me on his lap. I wince and cry louder, trying to shrug off
his arms as they persist in hugging me tight.
“So
can I remind you once again of the rules and ask you to remember – only five minutes, in future.”
His
head disappears in the direction of my bosoms. I feel myself pushed backwards
on the bed and his hand starts to play melodies on my most sensitive bits.
I stop
sniffling and moan instead. Did I happen to mention that Breeheny has a way of
insisting on my obedience that mixes pain with pleasure in the most convincing
way?
**********
Having
been on the Bridge for most of the night, it isn’t long before he is snoring.
I am
now wide awake, so I finish dressing and make my way to the Mess deck where I
consume a glass of Spaartahn pear
juice and a large deliciously spicy bread roll slathered with honey. I am due
to meet Morgane, Breheny’s younger brother and second in command, for a flying
lesson.
Although
my flying career to date has been somewhat erratic, and the results of my
endeavors unpredictable, I never miss an opportunity to take a flyer for a few
turns around the immediate area of space occupied by the Isandia.
This
time I am disappointed. Morgane is nowhere in sight. My spirits drop, but I
look around, see Breeheny’s flyer primed and ready to go at a moment’s notice,
and resolutely decide my first solo flight is imminent regardless of his stupid
rules.
I
clamber into the driving seat intent on fastening my helmet and ignoring the
fact that the deck seems peculiarly quiet for this time of day.
I
lower the canopy and rapidly run through the usual pre-flight checks.
Everything seems in order. I fire her up, lift and make my escape via the
force-field and the open doors. The stars appear like clotted cream across my
vision as I turn slightly, veering down and under the belly of the huge vessel.
I try to remember everything Morgane has told me.
Fortunately
the flyer is no more difficult to handle than driving a Jaguar XK8 and I play
happily like a child with a new toy, keeping well to the rear of the Isandia,
though I know Breeheny is dead to the world, or rather, universe.
Eventually,
feeling somewhat bored, I become more adventurous and turn away heading into,
for me at least, unchartered territory.
Big
mistake.
Massive.
I find
myself caught up in a cloud of rolling space debris that ranges from rock the
size of front doors, to pieces the size of whole houses, and one or two the
size of sky scrapers.
Panic-stricken
I complete a rapid U-turn whilst swerving madly in order to avoid a collision.
The debris appears thicker than I think and I feel on the smug side when I
finally manage to extricate myself, mostly in one piece, and come out a short
distance from the ship. My smugness is wiped off my face, when I look up in
horror, to see a line of grim-faced officers observing me through the viewing
port on the Bridge.
Breeheny,
who by this time has split his coffee, forces his way through them to stand
glaring at me with a grim Just you wait
until I get hold of you face. I try to turn and flee.
This
time my luck runs out. I narrowly miss a piece of rock seemingly the size of
Newfoundland, only to slam sideways into another piece the size of Canada.
Well, okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it feels like I’ve hit an oncoming
express train.
Dizzily
I bounce around for a bit, sirens blaring as the automatic safety mask on my
helmet glues itself to my face. The flyer spins and leaks oxygen like an old
bucket, and I think I may throw up at any minute. Fortunately I pass out before
the crew sent to extract the flyer
and return it to the flight deck, arrive.
**********
How
can a voice resembling chocolate develop a hard edge to it so quickly?
Four
days have passed and I am sufficiently recovered from my little escapade to, in
Breeheny’s words, suffer the consequences
of my misdemeanors.
I am
draped over his lap, my front half on the bed, chewing a pillow in order to try
to muffle my howls, my back half feeling and possibly looking like a roast on a
spit. He ignores the ruler and just uses his hand, but I fear that is about to
change.
I am
unceremoniously dumped on the floor still howling. Breeheny is undeterred. He
heaps pillows on the end of the bed, then picks me up and arranges me over
them, my glowing bottom uppermost. His arm feels like steel, as he holds me
firm, my left hand trapped beneath me.
I
notice a faint blur out of the corner of my eye, then the memory of all
previous spankings dwindles rapidly into insignificance. I try to lift up but
am securely held down. Breeheny swings a length of deep purple leather around a
foot long and two and a half inches wide across my unhappy cheeks.
“This
is P’tahrian F’leem leather. It’s what my father used to discipline Freer,
Morgane and I when we were boys. I only recently came across it amongst my possessions.
I must have kept it as a souvenir. I didn’t realize it would come in handy so
soon, but I think you’ll agree it’s extremely effective.”
He
moves to my sit spots.
I
scream. He keeps going.
“It’s
pointless having a discussion with someone who so consistently ignores what I
say. Didn’t you think it strange the flight deck was so quiet? Why did you
think I was able to leave the Bridge so early in order to take some down time?
“I had
hoped to share that time with you.”
The
purple strap moves down to scald the backs of my thighs. I kick and it curls
itself around the inside of my right thigh.
I
scream. He keeps going.
“Never
again will you violate a rule and place yourself in danger. Do you understand?”
The
strap continues to fall on its way back up, re-crossing the welts left when it
passed that way before.
I
scream. He keeps going.
I stop
fighting and sag against the covers, my legs falling apart.
He
lays one final crack across my bottom that falls across my lower lips, stinging
like hornets. I am crying too hard to react.
He
gathers me into his arms, my terrorized bottom resting on his knees, his hand
in my hair.
“Eriduh,
you are my heart” he tells me. “I cannot live without you.
