A warm welcome to new readers, all those who’ve happened to chance upon this little realm of words.
Like intrepid wanderers amid a cosmopolitan city’s twisty back-alleys, who stumble out of the freezing rain and into a curious little bookshop. Imagine then, your great delight on realising every tome upon the heaving shelves concerns the fine art of spanking. I do hope you’d stay and browse.
Every now and then you stop, plucking a
book from the nearest shelf to test its worthiness, evaluating its
title, the claims on its back, even the musty woody scent of its pages.
But with so many stories to choose from, which should you choose? Which should you clutch close to your chest and take away, which one will you settle down in a cosy corner to read?
Perhaps you’d ask the young lady behind the counter, a faint blush still visible on her cheeks. You wonder what she was doing before the little bell sounded and you walked in. Then again, what would you be doing if you worked in a quiet haven packed full of erotic books?
You ask for her recommendations. She hesitates, pondering, remembering.
“Might I suggest Grimoire?” she says at last, “A tale of the magic of the written word, and its power to enchant and transport the mind. And one set in bookshop, appropriately enough.”
You nod as you consider her suggestion, delaying judgement, waiting to hear her alternatives.
“Too subtle?” she asks quizzically, “Then perhaps you’d prefer something more explicit? Something like Punishment Panties – a tale of naughty girls and their strict governess?”
You glance down at the book half opened on the wooden counter. Its title is written in angular Latin type, as if it had been chiselled into Roman stone.
On the cover is a painting, a bucolic scene, a horned satyr lithely dancing around a nubile nymph. The artist has not been coy
depicting the satyr’s erotic intent.
The young lady smiles at your interest.
“Ah yes, Lupercalia. A tale of ancient erotic rituals, such an exciting work!”
Her eyes dip coyly, as her blush begins to bloom. You find yourself wondering if she gets her own bottom spanked.
“Of course, if history arouses you, there’s also the medieval jeopardy of the Throne of Shame…”
You ponder the sheer diversity of her suggestions, imagery suggested by their titles swimming through your mind. Perhaps you’ll choose one, or maybe you’ll just wander absent-mindedly through the towering canyons of words, until the light
dims eerily and you realise you’re now deep inside a labyrinth of shelves.
Everyone needs a place to lose themselves. That’s when you pluck the nearest story, settle back and begin to read…
And afterwards, perhaps you’ll like and share the tales you’ve enjoyed, for the benefit of those who follow in your footsteps.