The girl draped over the spanking bench mewled like a kitten that had lost its mother. Her buttocks glowed with radioactive heat. Between them, soft folds shone with her own pungent dew. Harry Lomax drew a deep breath—the aroma was captivating. Reminding him of long sultry nights followed by intimate dawns.

However, the girl on the bench wasn’t really the focus of Harry’s attention. His eyes were scanning the clusters of people who had gathered to watch the spanking scene play out. They showed, as one might expect, a preference for well-worn leather, black kohl, thigh-high boots and fishnets. Some of them he recognized in person, the rest by type. Doms with a surfeit of self-assurance. Subs quivering with excitement. Brats with a challenge in their eye. Fragile-looking femmes who could reduce grown men to tears with the flick of a whip or the curl of their lip. He’d been here before. He’d worn the gear. He’d played all the scenes from the bottom up and the top down.

But tonight he wasn’t wearing his leather. This wasn’t even his club. Master Blasters was the sort of club he’d stopped frequenting years ago. This evening he’d favored a low profile in black jeans with a T-shirt that gave away nothing about him. Acting like a tourist, lurking here for thrills and titillation. But he wasn’t. On this particular evening, Harry had come here to play poacher, looking for fresh-faced, corruptible ingénues upon whom he could work his considerable charms. Searching for someone who might intrigue him.


I’d heard about the little serials called “dime novels” or “penny dreadfuls” in all those high school English classes I found my butt parked in, somewhere between the front row of desks and the back. (The subject intimidated me, so I didn’t want to stand out in the first pew, but it interested me enough to where I didn’t want to sit in the very back row and go to sleep, either.) But in this day and age, I’d be as likely to experience one as I would be standing in line waiting for Charles Dickens autograph.

Then last September, Showtime came out with a new TV series, efficiently called, Penny Dreadful. I was there with remote in hand to see and taste this concept I’d heard about but never actually experienced. Sigh! Lasted about fifteen minutes before I had to change the channel, because in the entertainment world the critics view as filled with sex and violence, I can handle all the sex in the world, but the first sight of blood and guts and anything decapitated — Nuh, uh!

Oh well, guess that’s all she wrote.

But no, someone came out with a serial that speaks my language. An erotic penny dreadful, and seriously people, this one is hot! I’m talking fiery, sultry, torrid, white hot. I finished the last word and wanted to go back and reread, re-experience the whole bit all over again, but I have to catch my breath first. Find someway to unravel my toes.

“You don’t know me,” whispered Harry in her ear. “But you’ll never forget me.”

The girl gasped, trying to look round, but she couldn’t twist her head far enough to see him.


“He’s busy. You’re with me now. Give me your safe word.”


Harry slapped her hard with the palm of his hand across her rump. She let out a little shriek.

“Safe word. Now.”


“Butterfly what?”

“Sir. Butterfly, Sir.”

Harry turned towards the baby Doms, shaking his head.

“Have you ever used it?” he asked the girl.

“No, Sir.”

“You’ll use it tonight,” he said.


The author, Tasmin Flowers, describes her masterpiece like this:

These latter weeks of December are for most people the busiest time of the year…getting ready for Christmas, finishing off everything we mean to achieve before the year’s end, and socializing with old friends and our nearest and dearest. But in that lull between Christmas and the New Year, many of us get a chance to recharge our batteries—and for me, it’s the perfect time to curl up with some delicious new fiction on my Kindle.

This year I have something to offer readers for that snatched moment of relaxation and I’m happy to say, it’s completely free. Alchemy xii – New Year’s Eve is the prologue to my brand new Alchemy xii series – 12 novella length episodes that I’ll be releasing on the first of each month, throughout 2015. Readers will be able to buy them individually month-by-month or subscribe to get all 12 at a 33% discount!

So what’s it all about?

No one could ever accuse Harry Lomax of being a Dom’s Dom. Sometimes he even forgets to make his submissives call him “Sir”. But he’s the charismatic Prince of Kink at Chicago’s most secretive and exclusive sex club, where he runs Alchemy xii, the club’s prestigious year-long training program for would-be subs.

When Harry spots Olivia Roux across a crowded floor, he’s under no illusions as to what she is and what she isn’t. A blond, Amazonian goddess, Olivia’s no ingénue. She’s a woman of the world whom he suspects might have a thing for kink, if only she realized it. One thing is for certain—Olivia is nobody’s bitch.

Harry knows that he wants her. For his Alchemy xii training program, that’s for sure. But for himself? Harry will try anything once—and Olivia’s a woman who’s got his name written all over her!

Harry gives Olivia a diary to record her thoughts and feeling about training at Alchemy. Will she be able to submit to Harry? Will he be able to transform her into the perfect sub?


If you want to try it, and you know you do, start clicking — The first episode is free. Prepare to be addicted. Harry’s the dom I’ll definitely be following all year long.