All posts by Payne

I am an author of Erotic Romances with a paranormal or supernatural twist. A strong story and powerful characters are my main goal, with steamy eroticism as the frosting. Please fan me up on Goodreads here: http://www.goodreads.com/Adventuresinpayne Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/PayneHawthorneAuthor Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/author/paynehawthorne www.twitter.com/payneadventures

My Memoir is available Feb. 14th!

PEEING WITH THE DOOR OPEN; Not a Love Story.
A Memoir & Two Poetry Collections
is up on Kindle, and in Print!
Links below to the Amazon kindle store.
Release Date: February 14th, 2017

I will have print copies in stock along with custom bookmarks and magnets. Please see this page for my new PROMOTION on free swag with each book.

I will also sell at a discount if you want a signed print copy.

US Kindle
UK Kindle
AU Kindle, (Australia)
CA Kindle,(Canada)
It is available world wide.

PEEING WITH THE DOOR OPEN; Not a love story, contains a novella in memoir form, told from Payne’s point of view. It describes her short lived affair with a charismatic young man and how his narcissism destroyed their relationship.
It contains some of her life lessons, and her perspective on love and priorities in a relationship. She shares her immense knowledge about horses and the psychology of a prey animal compared to that of humans as a predator species.
She also supplies the reader with quotes and documentation on the Narcissistic mental disorder.
This is an interesting inside view of the novelist and a revealing confessional.
The second half of this book is dedicated to two poetry collections, which Payne feels are some of her best work to date.
WHITE LILY is her love and ardor spilled out at the beginning of the affair.
AFTERMATH is both, her confusion during, and her heartbreak after the affair ended.

The Storm Inside

At night, when a storm is raging outside, we lay and listen. We try to sleep, but the kinetic energy in inclement weather usually prohibits rest. We hear snaps and cracks and flapping tarps, wondering what’s getting destroyed, or merely sounding as if.

Sometimes the worst destruction is a surprise, something you never heard. It’s the silent, slow letting down of a big tree freeing its roots from wet soil. Or the fence that blew over and smashed the roses. Not till dawn can you take inventory. Even then, what can you do but shake your tiny fist at mother nature and curse a god you don’t really believe in. We have no say when she decides to strike, and so we don’t take it personally. We simply rebuild stronger the next time, or demolish what was there so it can never be hurt again.

Sometimes we become so hardened and immune, we sleep right through the worst of it. The world has a temper tantrum, and we are safe in our dreams, blocking the reality of what we will wake to when the sun once again shines.

We take for granted we will be there to see the next sunrise and we take for granted it will.

We logic our way through the devastation around us, smiling as if we are fine. What is our alternative? What choice do we have? We can shake our heads at the other’s perceptions, discarding it as hitting them harder, or we can be thankful it didn’t hit us as hard as it did them. Either way, we are competing over even that, the destruction and anarchy and who fared better, when all along, we are all just roses next to a weak fence.  ~Payne Hawthorne

New Release

I have a new release and a new blog post

Check out the blog post here: The Theme is Changing

My newest release is awesome! I’m extremely proud of this second installment in the Fire Clothed in Skin Saga: Redemption of Fire

Redemption of Fire

Thank you to Bellissima’s Wicked Graphics for a fabulous cover and editing help.  Check her out her page on Facebook.
Also a huge thanks to Julie Anne Addicott the incredible poetess who is helping me with an official House  of Payne Publishing Website. I’m helping her get her first novel finished. This title will be available on Kindle/Amazon before the summer of 2016 so keep an eye out for: Demon Soul, Angel Heart.

Our new Website:

House of Payne Publishing

Semifinalist in Poetry Contest

I entered the below poem at poetrynation.com and was just notified I’m a semifinalist.  It also secures this poem and a small author bio in their upcoming print anthology collection of amateur poets.

Pretty exiting for me since I’ve never entered any of my writings in contests. My new mission is to enter more of my stuff, more often and on different platforms with the end goal of getting my name better known as an author and poetess of emotional, soul searching, and love focused writings.

So here it is:

The Devastation of Love, (revised edition to fit their submission guidelines).
I'm forever hopeful to be stolen by it, swept up and falling into...
I will cease to be a singular soul, alone. 
I will join with another, and become someone entirely new. 
It’s messy and often ugly. 
It’s devastating.
Perhaps it’s simply my love of playing with fire?
It’s a shattering experience. 
Life altering, soul modifying. 
It’s anarchy. Destruction. 
Demolish what was there, rebuild stronger joined as two. 
It’s crushing, humbling and overwhelming. 
It’s embarrassing, pathetic, and shameless. 
I must surrender to the tidal pull of another. 
I must submit to the power of two combined. 
I am no longer me. I am now, us and we. 
I hand myself over to the other. 
It’s a before and after episode. 
It’s a demon who burgles my deepest secrets. 
It’s a cresting wave, pummeling me into the depths. 
It’s a deity demanding I bow and worship at it’s alter. 
Scrape and beg, plead and surrender. Succumb. 
It sweeps me up into a hurricane of destruction. 
It blows through me without a care for who I once was. 
No matter my preparations, 
or how long I've sought this elusive beast. 
No matter…
It will destroy me, and still I seek nothing else.

Original Prose which inspired this shortened version:

The Devastation of Love Original Prose/poetry by Payne Hawthorne
The Devastation of Love
Original Prose/poetry by Payne Hawthorne

Seeking Patronage

I recently attended a two day workshop from a well known published author. She also has numerous degrees in writing and literature along with multiple awards. After reading my work, she told me, "Stop giving away your writing. You're way too good of a storyteller to not be getting paid. You need to focus and do this fulltime!"
She suggested I start a Kickstarter, Go-fund-me, Patreon or Crowdfunding account. I told her I'd not had much of a warm welcome with my Go-fund-me campaign but I still had this Patreon page, even though I'm yet to receive one pledge. Her suggestion was that I no longer post my erotica short stories for free on my webpage, but rather only give them to my patrons.
So, I guess I'll try this for now and see how it goes. From here on out, I'll continue to write my short erotic pieces, but will only disseminate them to those who are pledging.
You have no idea how much it would help me if enough of you, drank one less $5.00 coffee a month, and instead pledged that amount to my writing endeavors.
For your pledge of $5.00 or more, I will guarantee at least one short erotic piece a month, (over 1000 words). For any larger pledges I'll write two or more pieces a month and will personally email these to all who've pledged.

I have over a thousand registered users on this site, although I don't know how to access you, or know if anyone is enjoying my work. Since I left Facebook, I no longer get comments, (good or bad), about my writing. It would help me to know others are enjoying, or at the very least, reading what I post. I often feel as if all this is nothing more than a futile endeavor. So please at least speak up or offer me some help as too how I can better reach my audience. (I am struggling with the technology and maintaining my own webpage as well...anyone willing to help me? I'd consider it a form of contribution. 

Email me? Payne Hawthorne at HouseofPaynepublishing@gmail.com 

Payne Hawthorne on Patreon

Erotica; Messed Up (Part 1)

Messed Up, (part 1)
“I want you done up to the nines. The car will be here at six.” She set her tablet on the table and blinked, holding out both her hands, palms up. He rested a black American Express card in one, and the keys to the car in the other. “I called Beth last week and set up the appointment for eleven.” He held her firmly by her chin and pressed his lips tightly to hers. 

Beth was her hairstylist and salon owner friend. She already knew this wasn’t just her hair getting styled, it was going to be an all-day deal. Waxed, polished, buffed, trimmed, colored and styled. Whole body, hair, nails and everything in between. When Sir wanted her coiffed, it meant he had plans to mess her up. The thought made her belly clench and dampness to reveal itself between her thighs. 

She returned his kiss with a moan and gentle swipe of hand up his fly. He was already hardening, probably at the thought of what he intended for their evening. He gave her a chin bump and sent her on her way, calling after, “Down do, Charity, nothing with lots of pins.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Oh, and there is a new dress for you upstairs when you get home.” 

She grinned, and felt like curtsying, but only blew him a kiss and was on her way. She arrived ten minutes early and found a parking place right up front. Beth greeted her with a hug and a small squeal. Besides being her esthetician, Beth was also her confidant, and knew almost all the details of her relationship with, Sir. 

They proceeded with the various spa treatments and finished with her hair. Beth even commented that there wasn’t one mark or bruise on her body, which was odd. Sir, normally left marks on a regular basis as a sign of ownership, but he’d been particularly careful the last few times they’d made love. They lived the lifestyle twenty-four-seven, but it wasn’t as pain-filled as most would imagine. Love making without pain was more often the norm between them now that they’d established a good balance. 

Sir called it, 51/49, with him of course being the fifty-one. Together they were more powerful than apart, and they balanced the other perfectly. She could absorb his overflow and mirror him like no other ever had, and in return he brought her numb body to life. Before Sir found her, courted her, and then won her over, she’d never had an orgasm, and sex had been a dull to sometimes painful experience. He however had unlocked her inner tigress and solved the riddle of her masochistic body. Granted, she took some time to warm up to the inflictions, but once he’d shown her the amount of available ecstasy he could offer, she’d jumped on board with both feet. 

Sir was a dominant sadist, but a sane one, and oddly enough, she’d call him a kind and gentle master even though he hurt her skin on a regular basis. He was never overtly cruel or uncaring and whenever he needed to feed his inner beast, she was happy to accommodate almost any of his particular craves. He always stopped the instant she said it was too much, and he’d not once betrayed that trust. And now, after five years together, they danced the dance from memory and rarely disagreed; their harmony, peace and contentment as a couple was something a Buddhist monk would envy; apart from the fact all their focus was directed at the pleasure of the other, and sexual satisfaction was their end game. 

Charity left the salon at four and rushed home. All she needed to do was change. Beth had even done her makeup, and she looked amazing. Her red hair was down and curled into big, bouncy curls that dangled between her shoulder blades with little tendrils of curls framing her face. She couldn’t wait to see the dress. Sir had amazing tastes and she knew she’d love it. He had a better eye than she did for fashion and what would look the best on her body. 

As she applied a few finishing touches, he appeared in the doorway to the master suite. A stunning pair of stilettos dangling from his right hand. “You are the most beautiful woman on the planet.” 

She blushed and padded barefoot across the plush carpet. “It’s perfect,” She breathed as she took one slow turn so he could see her bared back. The dress had an elaborate strap system around her upper chest but draped in a long, skin exposing cowl down both the front and back, exposing more than enough of her ivory skin to leave hardly anything to the imagination. 

First he handed her the shoes, and then he produced a long velvet box. “Shoes first.” He said as he took a knee to help her fasten the buckles. The ankle straps had tiny gold padlocks and he chuckled after he’d fastened both and stowed the key in his pants pocket. Now she stood taller and her nose was right at his jaw. “Okay…” he presented her with the black velvet box that was oddly heavy. 

She popped it open with an exhale of emotion. The collar that nestled inside was stunning. Black pebbled leather with little sapphires to match her blue dress. There was a large ring in the front, and a silver buckle in the back. She lifted her hair and he buckled it around her throat, checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight, but tight enough it felt like his hand on her neck. The leather was soft, and warmed immediately to her skin until it truly felt like him holding her most vulnerable place. 

“Now, bend over the bed princess.”

Her chest heaved in anticipation, but she did as asked and carefully positioned her upper body across their very tall four poster bed. He went to his cabinet, and in the far mirror she saw him produce the wide leather paddle. Undoubtedly he just wanted to redden her bottom and make it sore enough she felt him even if he didn’t touch her again the rest of the night. 

“Count. Ten each.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

Before he started, he carefully pulled her dress up and settled it under, and above her waist. As per protocol, she only wore garters for her thigh high stockings, and no underwear. She was entirely bared to him in this moment. He petted her bottom and massaged it, lightly spanking it with his hand and making it jiggle. Next he delved a finger between her legs, up through her cleft, and his sound of approval showed he found her wet and ready. 

He lingered there, petting and stroking her damp folds, and gently rubbing her clit until she moaned and arched her back. He seemed to have forgotten about the paddle and was now spreading out all her serum, as the rubbing increased. Without warning, he inserted his middle finger, his incredibly meaty, long middle finger, and she almost orgasmed. She held herself in check however, knowing she had to have permission to cum. 

One of things that always surprised, and equally aroused her, was Sir’s appetite for her body. Often he would alter his plans just to fuck her. It was always a quick, although highly satisfy dip into her puddle of acceptance, but it was obviously also something he’d thought to forestall. The thing about Sir though was simply his sexual appetite knew no bounds, and no doubt, after piercing her now, he’d again during the evening, maybe more than once. 

His suit slack zipper sounded behind her and she looked up to see him in the mirror, at her back, fondling himself, spreading out his pre-cum as he massaged the tip of his erection. He was always so hard it continually amazed her. She grew even wetter and whimpered as he spread her with two thumbs on her slick folds. He slid in just the tip, and settle there to continue petting her bottom and randomly spanking it playfully. 

His voice was full of amusement, “Slight change of plans kitten, but you know how much I love inside.” 

He rolled his hips and settled himself to the base, and then he reached around her hip and gripped her mound. His hand enveloped her entire fleshy mound and he dug in his fingers, making sure to catch her clit with his middle finger. She whimpered again and pushed her bottom into his groin, trying to get away from some of the biting pressure on her freshly waxed flesh. There was no getting away from Sir though, he was a big man and a strong man and he relished it when she tried, so she always did, but never managed to lessen the intensity even by a little. 

He held on and then he began sliding on all her lubrication. He took his time, retreating to the bulging helmet and then thrusting back to home. His balls bounced against her folds and his grip tightened on her front. She let go a small scream as her body shot into high gear. His pounding increased until there was a volley of wet slaps echoing around the room. 

“Oh god—Sir, Sir, please…Ahhhhh…please may I cum?” 

“Not yet…” He grunted, thrusting himself harder and harder into her. His thumb dexterously pressed her clit tight against her pubic bone and she almost lost it. 

“Pleeeeeessse!” She keened. 

His shaft grew hotter and his thrusts slowed, “Now kitten. Now cum for me.” He commanded just as his molten release rocketed up into her core. 
She was now his well-tuned instrument and her body obeyed with alacrity. Her pussy twitched along with her other sphincter muscles and she cried out as her sheath tightened around his still throbbing cock. 

When he popped free of her body, he pulled along their joined fluids and trailed the head of his still dripping cock up through her ass crack. He teased at that other entrance and while still hard, seated his tip just inside her body. 

“Later.” He growled, but stayed here, both of them still twitching. 

Before she stood, he pulled out his favorite jeweled butt plug from the night stand drawer. First he inserted it up into her soaked pussy, and then he slowly inserted it into her bottom. The action caused ripples of aftershocks to rattle through her and she gasped. 

“Stay put. I got distracted. You still need to be reddened. I want you feeling me all night. And leave me in you, I want to decorate your inner thighs. I want you to smell me on you at dinner.” 

He then went to work on her bottom with the paddle, and she counted. Ten on the left cheek with some muscle behind the swings so she was already feeling the sting and ache and knew there would be some significant bruises by morning. Ten more on the right cheek and tears were running down her face, ruining her makeup. She sniffed and with help, resumed an upright position, teetering on the heels, but managing to keep it together. 

He inspected her and used a thumb to swipe at some of the lingering tears. “Getting there,” He grumbled. 

She didn’t even ask to check her reflection in the mirror. This was part of the dance with Sir. He just loved messing her up. Something about her spending an entire day getting ready just so he could fuck it all up was his ideal of a perfect night out. And, if by the time they were out in public, she was already fuck/spank/bit/manhandled-worn around the edges, he was his most happy.

Her hair was still in the delicate braid across the top, but that for sure would be demolished before nights end. He put out his elbow and escorted her to the waiting limo. She knew better than to ask where they were going. It could be anywhere in the world, or nowhere at all. 

They might just spend a couple hours in the limo, doing depraved things behind the tinted glass. Sir was predictably unpredictable and it was guaranteed she would look as if caught in the perfect storm by the end of the evening.

~Too be Continued.

Payne Hawthorne