Renee Rose: Tell me a little bit about the Betty and Detective Series
Just to see how it worked, I self-published Single’s Cruise for Adventure which has spanking and romance but would probably not be called a spanking romance. Oddly, this one remains my second most popular work. I then had a wild hair and wrote something autobiographical in The Naked Sea. This contains some romance but no spanking.
Through the Looking Glass – Betty and the Detective 3
In general, my morning has been a shambles. My first morning together with Betty had nearly ended in disaster, but with her typical flair Betty had turned lemons in to lemonade. First, she rescued breakfast after I forgot to buy supplies; then she pulled me up from a dark mood with her psycho-magic. Our morning sex would have been perfect if only I had been able to hold back long enough for her to come. Then, following our lovemaking, I did as I have done so many times—I watched Betty drive off into the alternate universe of her secret life.
Her efforts to suppress memories have left her unable to talk about anything in her past; however, her phobia has been improving lately. She said she had received some new kind of therapy but didn’t explain it. When we first met, she could hardly discuss what she had done the day before. My attempts to interrogate her following the murder of Stan Newberry had been quite a circus. While she hasn’t discussed it much, I’ve observed that the experiences she can’t talk about are usually sexual.
However, one of her closest held secrets is her job. She has said that she is a registered nurse and that she is working part-time on her Ph.D. in psychology. And I know that her days are mostly free, as she frequently meets me for lunch. Then something happens at 2:00 in the afternoon. As it approaches, she almost gets panicky to rush away. Then there are Saturdays and Sundays—she is almost never available the weekends. All this is reasonably consistent with a nurse working odd shifts, but she hinted that she is a schoolteacher. One time I considered using the department resources to check her out, but that would be inappropriate. She has always promised that one day she would tell me.
Unbelievably, she insists that the humiliating public spankings from her father are not the source of her problems. While it seems to be a sexual event that she is suppressing, sex is also the key to releasing her from the phobia. She had explained that orgasms release a natural hormone—oxytocin—that helps her relax and talk about herself. Our best conversations are lying together in the afterglow. The wait may be over; now Andrew is going to help her tell me about the past.
Walking across the grass toward the funeral tent, it is hard to get my mind on work. My only thoughts are of Betty and smacking her cute little butt with a paddle. Her forgetfulness about the condom, robbing me of the pleasure of taking her flesh-to-flesh last night, has earned her a sound paddling. The brief and highly pleasurable sex this morning was not restitution. Her butt will burn, and she will be in discomfort for many hours, every time she tries to sit. Last night at the spanking party, Richard had offered to let me use his dungeon. He seemed to sense this
cantankerous behavior, and his offer is burning in my brain. At last night’s party, Susie was initiated, and her pink ass with five crimson cane stripes is exactly what I want Betty’s butt to look like after I latch her into one of those medieval stocks. First, she’ll get a firm hand spanking.
When my hand hurts too much to continue, I’ll switch to the paddle. Just when she thinks her pleas for mercy have saved her, I’ll give her three red stripes with the cane. Betty herself told me that the cane is what her Aunt Helen had used to sharpen her memory. In the dungeon, Betty will be able to scream her heart out without the concern of disturbing my apartment’s neighbors.
Later I’ll call Richard and get the key.