by Simone Francis

A bisexual heroine enters a world of BDSM in Edwardian London

The Bookshop blends a racy thriller with tales of BDSM spankings, whippings and fetish sex

It’s 1908 and Amelia Slone is bored until her friend Frances disappears. The bookshop and the haughty, arrogant Prussian Konrad von Schellenberg are her only clues. Determined to find her friend, her search leads her into a secret society devoted to sexual submission, kidnapping and murder that hides just below the surface of Edwardian London. Desperate to find her friend, it seems romance will have to wait as Amelia discovers new passions for both men and women.

Reviews

There was a healthy amount of thriller, humor, and adventure to keep you on your toes throughout … The Bookshop was beyond enjoyable with beautiful writing and Simone did an amazing job with the concept too
Goodreads

When you read this book, you get a real feel for the time period with the description of clothing, lanterns, transportation options, etc. The author also did a great job discussing how domestic discipline might have been treated back in this time period, and the sex scenes were quite steamy. If you like a bit of history with your erotica, this book is for you. I would highly recommend.
Amazon

Excerpt

Amelia’s Training Begins

The next day Peter collected her at lunchtime in the cab. Amelia watched the London streets as they passed. How many of these people had done what she was about to do? She saw and elderly distinguished looking gentleman in a top hat in the crowd. Was he a member of The Order she thought? A younger man with a black beard crossed the road coming close to the carriage window; there was a passing resemblance to the man in the illustration: or him?

Von Schellenberg met her in the hallway his house. Peter will take your bags to your room. Please follow me.’ He led her up to the first floor and opened a door. Amelia hesitated as he stood aside to let her enter. ‘We will begin your instruction immediately.’

The room was sparsely furnished. A writing desk and chair stood under the window. Almost in the centre was a chaise longue upholstered in maroon velvet. Its left hand end was open and the right hand side curved up to a rolled arm.
‘You must be prepared for what you will face and what you will administer. Take off your skirt’
‘What?’ Amelia heard herself squawk.
‘Take off you skirt and bend over the back of that chaise longue,’ von Schellenberg said calmly.

‘To gain access to the order you must at least appear to be a disciple of discipline. In order to be a disciple you will need to have experienced it. Later we will train you in administering it. Now take off your skirt and bend over.’ His voice suddenly acquired a hard edged note.

Amelia unbuttoned her jacket and, folding it carefully placed it on the seat of the chaise. Her shirtwaist revealed her naked arms but leaving it on to at least preserve some modesty she unbuttoned her skirt and slid it down over her petticoat. She folded the skirt in half and then half again before placing it on top of the jacket. She turned to face von Schellenburg.
‘And the petticoats,’ he sighed.
Amelia obediently slid down her petticoats and began to carefully fold them.
‘When I give you an instruction I expect it to be obeyed immediately, with alacrity, do you understand?’ Von Schellenberg barked.

Amelia turned, deep within her a memory stirred. She had never been beaten on the behind at school but slaps across palms with rulers or canes had been common and she could remember the stinging pain. Now she could feel herself pouting like a naughty schoolgirl and she was aware that only her draws and chemise covered her lower half.
‘Remove your drawers.’
‘What,’ Amelia stuttered.
Von Schellenberg picked up a leather strop from the table beside him and tapped it almost silently across the palm of his left hand.
‘Your drawers,’ he said quietly.
Amelia untied the cord at her waist and slid the cotton drawers down thankful that her chemise hung down to mid thigh level.

‘Turn around.’
Amelia complied, every movement slowed with anticipation as if the air around her had suddenly thickened into the consistency of oil. She realised that part of her mind was fearful of what was about to happen but a small but growing part of her brain seemed to tingling with excitement. She had only witnessing a caning once at school. The girl had wriggled and screamed but the display had stirred something deep inside her. In the following days she had even found herself daydreaming of what it would be like to be in the girl’s place. Now as an adult it seemed that she was about to find out.

‘Raise you chemise and bent over onto the head of the chaise longue.
‘What! No.’ Amelia half turned towards von Schellenberg’s voice.
There was the merest swish and a crack. Amelia felt a stinging sensation across her rump.
‘Do as you are told girl.’
Amelia’s hand moved to the left cheek of her bottom. There was another crack as the strop contacted with the still exposed right cheek. Amelia scrabbled at the hem of her chemise and. pulling it up to her waist bent forward.

There was silence. She was acutely aware that her naked behind was now on view to a man she had only met a few days before. Rarely, if ever, had her late husband or either of her lovers seen her thus exposed. It occurred to her that her compliance would not cause the pain to stop, in fact it actively invited more. It seemed to make no sense to comply but something within her spurred her on. She told herself that this was something she must learn to endure in order to save Frances but deep within her she knew that was not the reason. For the first time in her life she was nearly naked and excited by what was about to happen.

She did not have long to wait. The strop snapped across her buttocks neatly folding itself around the firm curves.
‘Ah,’ she gasped but there was barely time for the stinging sensation to permeate her nerves before a second and then a third strike landed. Her behind began to feel like it was being held close to a fire. More blows sparked across her skin and she could feel her flesh rippling in submission.

Desperately trying to bring her thoughts back to reality she knew from reading that somewhere deep in her mind chemicals were being released. Chemicals that would deaden the pain. Was that true? She wished she had read that bit more closely. The slaps became cracks almost as if there was a thunderstorm behind her. She tried to cry out but the only sound she created was the sharp sucking in of air.

Slowly she became aware of another sensation. Although the attack was on the cheeks of her behind she was beginning to feel an ache that seemed to permeate between her legs and up into her pelvis. The nerves deep inside her seemed to be responding; even though the strop had never touched them they were sending messages of pleasure to her brain. She felt dizzy with excitement, her knees seemed to be weakening and her legs bent as if no longer able to hold her weight.

The punishment stopped. Fire burned through her. Before they started she would have taken this as a signal to stand and cover her nakedness as quickly as possible. Now she found that relished her exposure. The thought of von Schellenberg looking at her, seeing her aroused, even glimpsing her sex between her legs which she was sure had wetted and opened as her body forced blood into it in anticipation only seemed to add further fuel to the fiery. He was a handsome man, arrogant and conceited yes, but no other man had done this to her, made her feel this. She struggled trying to force her mind to put into words what she was feeling. This alive.

‘You are not a virgin?’
The intimate question jolted Amelia out of her thoughts.
‘No.’ Amelia did not move. wondering what was about to happen.
‘You have had lovers?’
‘Yes, two after my late husband died.’ She would never have answered such questions in any other position.
‘So you are aware what it is like to be stimulated?’
‘Yes.’ Amelia stood up. His arrogance was back so she was not about to tell him that none of them had generated such intense feelings.
‘Good. Get dressed and we will continue your instruction tomorrow. We will dine at six. Your room is across the landing. There is no need to . . .’ He paused; there was almost the flicker of a smile across his face, ‘formally dress for dinner.

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