Savory

Exploited Publishing

Her lips continuing there barrage on her hearty neckline before gently sinking the tips of her teeth into Leigh’s neck. “Uh yes,” Leigh gasped, her moans of passion, of untamed desires grew louder, forcing her to bit her bottom lip as her lovers hands roamed all over her tight body
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About the author

2nd Place winner of the 2013 Author Award Fiction4all in Erotica Genre
3rd Place winner of the 2013 Author Award Fiction4all in Dark Erotica Genre

Lord Koga is the pen name for a local Grand Rapids, Michigan Author, whom for the last 4 years has been writing in the specific genres of Erotic Fiction, Women's Fiction, Lesbian Fiction, Romantic Fiction, Horror/sci-fi/fantasy erotica, as well as capture, S & M, BDSM fiction.

The pen name "Lord Koga," has been shortened over the years from its original name Lord Kogarasumaru. The origins of the name Kogarasumaru "Little Crow" is derive from a unique Japanese tachi sword rumored to have been created by legendary Japanese smith Amakuni during 8th century CE. The "little Crow" is considered to be unique as it is a bridge between the old double edge blades of Japan and the more modern version which eventually became known as Katana.

Currently Lord Koga has over 150 titles out in e-book format and 7 titles in both print and ebook format.

Website: http://www.exploitedpublishing.yolasite.com
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Additional Information

Publisher
Exploited Publishing
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Published on
Aug 14, 2014
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Pages
13
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ISBN
9781458074133
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Best For
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Language
English
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Genres
Art / Subjects & Themes / Erotica
Fiction / Erotica / BDSM
Fiction / Erotica / General
Fiction / Erotica / Lesbian
Fiction / Romance / Erotica
Fiction / Romance / Lesbian
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Eligible for Family Library

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I know I have long promised you an account of the reason of my penchant for the rod, which, in my estimation, is one of the most voluptuous and delicious institutions of private life, especially to a supposed highly respectable old maid like your esteemed friend. Treaties must be carried out, and promises kept, or how can I ever hope for the pleasure of making you taste my little green tickler again. Writing, and especially a sort of confession of my voluptuous weakness, is a most unpleasant task, as I feel as shamefaced in putting these things on paper as when my grandfather's housekeeper first bared my poor blushing little bottom to his ruthless attack. My only consolation at commencing is the hope that I shall warm to the subject as it progresses, in my endeavour to depict, for your gratification, some of the luscious episodes of my early days.
My grandfather, as you well know, was the celebrated Indian General, Sir Eyre Coote, almost as well known for his eight-penny fiasco with the Bluecoat boys as for his services to the Hon. E. I. Company. He was a confirmed martinet, and nothing delighted him so much as a good opportunity for the use of the cat, but I cannot tell you anything about that, as that was before my time. My first recollection of hint is after the aforesaid City scandal, when he had to retire from public life in comparative disgrace. My parents both died when I was just upon twelve years of age, and the old General, who had no other relatives to care for, took entire charge of me, and, at his death, I was left his sole heiress, and mistress of nearly £3,000 per annum.
He resided in a quiet country house some twenty miles from London, where I spent the first few months of my orphaned life, with only his housekeeper, Mrs. Mansell, and the two servants, Jane and Jemima. The old General being away in Holland searching, so I afterwards heard, for original editions respecting the practices of Cornelius Hadrien, a curious work on the flagellation of religious penitents by a father confessor.
It was the middle of summer when he returned, and I soon found the liberty I had been enjoying considerably restricted. Orders not to pluck the flowers, or the fruit in the garden; and a regular lesson set me every day by the old autocrat himself. At first they were tolerably simple, but gradually increased in difficulty, and now, in after years, I can plainly understand his wolf and lamb tactics, by which I must eventually fall under his assumed just displeasure.
What gave me considerable pleasure at this time was his decided objection to mourning, or anything at all sombre in my dress. He said my parents had been shown every possible respect by wearing black for months, and I must now be dressed as became a young lady of my good expectations.
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