Sadly, Butt Stuff is no longer free; if you missed getting a copy over the weekend, I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for it. It’s still only about $4 on Kindle, and you get nine stories about… well… butt stuff. One’s a novella, so technically it’s thirteen stories (the novella has four chapters). I think that’s a reasonable trade-off.

If you did get a copy, could I ask you to review it on Amazon? I’d love to hear what you thought of it.

Here’s one last preview, just in case you’re still on the fence. It’s from “Marks”, which is a story I wrote after going to my first ever private spanking party (at someone’s house). The spanking scene in it reflects what I wish had happened to me while I was there, but alas it was not to be — I was working overnights, and had to leave well before the party ended.

“You should use this.”

I had my palm on Olivia’s ass. It was already pink, which was quite a feat given her golden-brown skin. “What?”

Dean held out a small wooden paddle; I took it by the handle and weighed it in my hand. I tried to control my reaction, but I knew Olivia felt me start. This was something we’d never really done before. Oh, sure, Olivia and I played around with bondage and spanking, but we’d only come to this little dinner party because Dean, who ran our local munch, had invited us personally.

And now I was going to use his paddle on my girlfriend’s ass.

I gave Olivia the most meaningful look I could when she glanced back at me. Her straight black bangs were partly covering her dark eyes, but I still knew what her position was on the matter — and if I hadn’t, the near-imperceptible nod she gave me was enough.

Then she put her head down on her arms and waited.

There were people watching us — more people than we’d ever played in front of before. Olivia was over my knee in the traditional spanking position, and almost a dozen people could see her ass, modesty protected only by a pale-blue thong.

Dean — older, grayer, and more experienced — made a hand motion, as if to say “get on with it”. I tapped the paddle a couple of times against Olivia’s ass, measuring how much each stroke would cover. The flat wooden part was only a little bigger than my palm, rectangular with rounded edges; her ass was soft and curvy but not big, and there wouldn’t be much room to change the target area.

This was going to be one hell of a spanking. There was no way out of it now. She’d agreed, and neither of us wanted to lose face in front of the munch crowd — I was twenty-four and she was twenty-six, and we were the youngest people in attendance. We had to make sure we belonged here.

And if that meant paddling Olivia’s ass, then I would do it.

She steeled herself as she felt me raise the paddle. I steeled myself as well, and swung.

Fun fact: Dean is actually an amalgamation of two older, grayer gentlemen who guided me a little bit in the early days of my spanking journey.