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Cowgirls & Angels

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Cowgirls & Angels, Spanking Erotica by Lizbeth Dusseau

Note: This title available as a paperback duo with Lizbeth's Spanking Novel, Birches.

Cowgirls are sassy brats with sharp tongues and nasty manners. Angels are what they become at the hands of their dominant men. The Urban Cowgirl gets her comeuppance when she tries to take over Rory’s ailing ranch. A 19th century Madame, Kiley, gets tamed by an outlaw in Desperado, and Dusty’s Revenge backfires when Ty Holbrook turns the tables on her and gives her some good bare-bottomed punishment. In The Confessions of a Sassy Wife, Blair’s whirlwind marriage takes some interesting twists when her new husband gets fed up with her reckless behavior.

Then, and country singer, Brandy Winger, is a sad Shooting Star who needs the firm control of a loving man to pull her out of her blues. Finally,The Incident In The Cellar brings a wayward young wife home to face the fierce discipline she’s put off far too long. Spanking Romance & Sizzling Sex.


“What the hell, Blair,” he roared. He leaned in over the fence and pulled me to my feet. Not stopping there, he drew me over the fence with a jerk so powerful that it shocked me. Dragging me to the stable in short order, I was flung over a sawhorse having my ass spanked like a naughty brat. I kicked and shouted and tried to wench away from him, but he managed to keep one arm firmly grasping me so I couldn’t break free.
“Don’t you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?” he roared.
“Take your hands off me, you bastard!” I shouted back.
“Oh, I’ll spank you as long as I think you need it.” The palm of his hand was coming down so fast I was beginning to feel a burn through my jeans. The more it hit, the more I struggled, the more Rys gripped me tightly. “You try defying me like that again, I will take off my belt and thrash you!”
“Just you try that!” I cried, even though it seemed absurd making that charge. He had me handily under his control. His left hand had me pinned, and his mean right hand just kept slapping my buttocks. There was nothing I was going to do about it but submit. Once he thought I’d had enough—perhaps because I’d stopped fighting him so much, I was getting awfully tired—he finally stopped and let me up.
My face must have been as flushed as my ass was underneath my pants. He held me still, but not as firmly, and looked down at me with a glare I hadn’t seen since before we were married.
“You hear me, Blair Montgomery, you’ll work the horses I tell you to work, and you won’t challenge me again on this.”
I was stunned. Another time, another place, I would have spit in his face, but I was too dazed to offer him one decent protest.
“You understand me?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yeah, I guess I do, but …”
“But what? You think a husband doesn’t have a right to punish his wife?”
Of course I was thinking that, but oddly that wasn’t my question.
“Is this something I can count on?” I wondered aloud.
“You bet it is. We’ll do just fine, Blair, if you subdue this willful streak in you. You don’t, I’ll deal with it just like this. And trust me, your ass will be bare next time, and I’ll give you something that will really hurt.”

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