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First Chapters of The Heart of A Dragon Tamer

Updated: Dec 4, 2021

"Mock, before you even start. YOU promised you would come talk to us about spanking and then you left. Where were you?"

Um, yeah. Sorry about that. And don't I always talk about spanking? Okay, okay. I know I mean without my characters to shield me. My original plan was to make an entire page of "Kinds of possible Spankings." Though, I thought about it for too long and I'm not sure I should do that. Still thinking on that one. That could be a mini-novel on its own!

So I came up with a new idea for now. Like, hear me out.

Dragon Tamer is long. I could release half the book before it's set to come out (which sorry, need to see what my editor says before I can come up with a date) and you'd still have more than a novel to read.

I thought I could try to talk a little of spanking along the way. I also want to reintroduce the characters. So we can do this for a bit and see what churns out and then maybe I'll put it all in a booklet? Let's try it and if you have questions or just want to talk about your own experiences/feeling/etc, maybe we can make a group here in the groups section?

All right, so Jude.


This model is exactly as I see Jude. Like, even when I wrote the original I pictured someone like this for the main character. I don't even have a "but I would change." This is him. Jude. He is actually Model Jan Francken. I would really like to get my hands on a photo I could license it for a cover or something so I'm putting it out there. Universe? Do you hear me?

Jude is a powerful wizard with a hard past. He is, of course, one of the brats of this story.

If Jude wasn't a wizard, I could easily see him listening to a lot of Nirvana in his room. When I write him, I often listen to Lithium (by Nirvana) and other classics.

This story is a romance novel, yes, but it's also the story in which Mock takes you on a wild ride though 9 years of Jude's life.

I was partially inspired by Hana Yanighihara's "A Little Life," who also happens to have a Jude in it but this one is very different from hers. What I liked (and wanted to try) was how she took us through many years of the characters lives, involving us so far down the rabbit hole of their lives, I felt like I'd read a book about real people. Now, that story is FAR more angsty than Dragon Tamer. Dragon Tamer does have some angst but it's fairly low on the angst scale.

And mine has spanking in it. Don't forget that. One critical reviewer quoted in their comment (in the original version) "This was one big spank fest." And they are right. I also wrote it to explore (and enjoy) spanking in a myriad of ways.

Here's the real catch though---it's ALL non-sexual spanking. Yep. For many, many, many words, no sexual, kinky spanking takes place. At the very end there is a little because c'mon, us spanksters (I refuse to call myself a "spank-o", I'm sorry but I just despise that label) um, so as I was saying, us spanksters are always gonna enjoy a little of that even with other tastes.

Even after all these years trying to find the words to describe what happens with a non-sexual spanking, I struggle. Which is why in the book several different kinds are explored. That's right, there's more than one.

There is some parent to teenager spanking happening in this old fashion, yet present day ish Wizard universe. If you're on this page, you probably get it and I don't have to explain. This is definitely of the non-sexual variety. But in addition to that, it's absent of "that feeling" which is the term I use to attempt to describe the feeling between a "brat" and their "Top." As you'll see the "that feeling" is not there in these instances.

However, the feelings of safety, and vulnerability and even very mild humiliation are there to serve the wiring inside a person such as this. Jude in the story is very much this person. Mock is very much this person.

Because it goes beyond sex. And honestly? I am finding, the more spanksters I chat with, we're often on the ACE spectrum. Not to say we all are. Just many I've talked to. I myself, am DEMI. The means I'm on the ACE spectrum. Spanking really isn't a sexual thing for me ...


(I'm going to leave the "except" dangling.)

But the parent to teen spanking? There's a comfort to it. A vulnerability. We get something out of reading it that's soothing. There's an element of "made to", "have to" that you can only get in this context. That's part of it.

So yeah. I hope it will be as comforting for some as it is for me.

All that being said, while this element is weaved into the book, it's not the larger portion and the book has MUCH more going on than this.

The greater portion is, of course, our Charlie with Jude (which I will talk about in another post). But before all that, we need some set up and background.

These first two chapters will set up the world some. There will be lots of questions at this point which will be answered as you read the story. I hope you enjoy them. Remember, they are unedited and I'm sorry, I need a break from editing so I'm not looking them over again right now. They will be professionally edited before publication.

The Heart of A Dragon Tamer: Chapters 1+ 2, Edited

Copyrighted Material 2021


That owl’s always had it out for him. It stares with judge-y, yellow eyes having claimed Jude’s meagre dinner, daring Jude to have another go at snatching the bag. “Owls aren’t supposed to eat crisps,” he says. “Won’t that hurt your stomach?”
Annoyed at the accusation, it grips the bag in its beak and huffs off into the night leaving Jude to nurse his bitten hand alone. He shivers in the cold barn, tugging the thin blanket around his thin frame. He considers a healing spell. His best friend’s mum made sure they (he and Preston) knew the basics before they began at Ravyndell.
“With what you lot get up to, you’d best know something antiseptic and binding so you don’t bleed out before you can get a bandage,” Myra’d said.
Jude looks around. Some ungifted folk don’t believe in magic, even when they see it with their own eyes. Would one teensy-weensy healing spell be noticeable? Probably not but his uncle doesn’t like it, and if he’s caught, Jude’ll suffer.
He won’t get caught. Not for something small.
He slowly gathers what he needs from the earth’s energy field, the light building in his fingers. There’s plenty for Jude to grab from the constant stream of charged currents moving through the atmosphere. Different kinds. Different colors. Different purposes. All available to be moved at Jude’s will.
Instead of sending his cache of force out to the world, he exhales and lets the energy spread across his insides. Seemingly a contradiction, but that’s what it feels like—an exhale that goes in rather than out. When Jude was learning how to use his gift, he thought about magic as something you wield. In a way it is, some kinds, but not all magic is like that. It depends on what’s gathered. It depends on intent. It depends on the strength and ability of the wizard.
Sometimes, magic is something you move softly. The simple maneuvering of energy. Finding a path. Matching with other energies.
That’s why it takes so long to master it. To recognize the feel of the threads of the universe. To know how much to take and what to do with it. Learn to move it quickly.
He struggled. Using his gift hadn’t come easily. Not with the amount of potential power Jude has available to him. Having a lot of power is useless when you haven’t a clue as to how to channel it.
More harm than good even.
Once his hand is patched as good as it’s going to get with the simple spell, Jude rips a strip from his threadbare blanket and ties it around his palm as an extra barrier of protection. His body will still need to do some of the healing—a kind of magic of its own.
He lays on the scratchy pallet, mentally running through his chores while his body hopes they’ve finished them all. It’s just him and his uncle on the large farm spread over twenty acres along the English countryside. If it weren’t for the explicit instructions left by his parents that he attend the special schools for people like Jude, he probably wouldn’t get to go to school at all.
The barn became his home two years after he’d begun at Bonny Blackridge Primary, a boarding school for young, gifted people. Wizards. Aunt Elma—his mother’s sister—had a heart attack. Jude was seven. Uncle Webster blamed Jude and his “magic tricks”. He wouldn’t allow Jude back in the house but if he worked hard, he’d get lodging and food.
Because his aunt and uncle weren’t gifted. No magical abilities whatsoever.
Seven-year-old Jude didn’t have much say but when he reached his teens, he thought to get a job in town. Maybe he could find his own lodgings for the summers, someone willing to take a student.
But he couldn’t leave the property. Like, physically couldn’t leave. Not one toe off.
It was frustrating. Sometimes he was angry with Uncle Webster and wanted to do something about it. Jude was a wizard. It didn’t seem fair he couldn’t use his magic to help himself—isn’t that what it’s for? But magic can be performed by minors only with permission from a magical guardian and even then, only under supervision. He was lucky they didn’t cuff him as it was. That’s what they did to little children who couldn’t be trusted not to use magic when they weren’t supposed to and who didn’t have magical guardians—made them wear cuffs with runes on them that prevented use of their gift.
Every small bit he used was a risk.
He’d been warned by Miss Charlotte not to get close to the edge of the property, but she never said why, other than, “It’s to keep you safe, Jude.”
She never said much of anything. She stormed through the thick magical barrier of energy at the edge of farm every summer to bring him to the magical boarding school in Bonny Blackridge and returned him to the farm when school was out.
Of course, he didn’t listen. He was eight when he first tried. It blew him across the field, and he was lucky to land on a hay bale. The magic infected his hand somehow. Miss Charlotte arrived two days later to retrieve him. Thankfully. His hand was sore and turning his sun-kissed flesh colors it shouldn’t be.
“Didn’t I tell you not to touch it?” Her voice was always sharp as a razor’s edge. He liked the feel of her despite her serrated manner. He didn’t like Miss Charlotte upset with him. Miss Charlotte was perfectly polite, but never friendly. And yet he adored her. He knew she would keep him safe—his intuition told him so.
She was pretty. Shiny black hair—a chin-length bob with perfect bangs that curved with the shape of her face. She had fair skin like Jude’s when he wasn’t sporting his summer tan. Giant winged cat eyes angled hard toward her temples, fringed with long lashes. Lips and cheeks so rosy they were a sharp contrast to the rest of her. She looked like the porcelain doll of a good witch.
Only she wasn’t a witch, she was a wizard.
“I’m sorry.” His lip trembled. It sounded more like a plea. Don’t stop coming.
Her lips quirked right as she lifted his hand so she could look. He hissed at the pain. “All children are curious. But you need to do as you’re told.” She marked her words with a press to his nose. “I can fix this, but it might hurt just a little. Ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked around and then she began. The sensation was prickly at first. Like when a limb wakes from having fallen asleep. He could feel her creep in, tiptoeing. She smiled as someone does when they’re remembering—she touched Jude’s energy and remembered something. His sore hand warmed, and he breathed in with the anticipation of pain, but it didn’t come. Just more warmth. She wasn’t touching with her hand, but he could feel her with his other senses. She used her gift to grip the poisoned magic decaying his hand. It wrapped around the tainted bit, weaving with it thread by thread. There was a tug and then a pull. The color left his flesh, draining in swirls like water down a drain.
When it was gone, Jude tested his hand. “Wow. Where did it go?”
She removed a black glove from her hand. Her fair flesh was lit with colors that writhed beneath the surface.
Jude winced. “But won’t it hurt you?” he asked.
“It does hurt. That’s not just any spell over there. This requires a potion. I know someone who’ll make it for me.” She slid her hand back into her black glove. She’d said it hurt, but she didn’t look to be in pain.
The woman was tough as hippogryph scales.
Jude pressed his brow down and together. Everyone called it his hawk-like, murder brow. It often got him what he wanted. “You look like you’re gonna disembowel someone, Parker,” Preston’d say. “If you do, make sure it’s Rycroft.”
It was the first time he was ever angry at Miss Charlotte. He crossed his arms, hawk-like brow set to stun. “That barrier is dangerous. It’s an awful thing to keep around children.”
He instantly regretted his temper when she gripped his chin, her long fingernails biting into his flesh. He trembled, his heart pounding. He wasn’t mad about the danger to him. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Miss Charlotte, but he didn’t think he should say that. “That look won’t work on me.” She stared at him, analyzing. Miss Charlotte always wore a mask. She never let it down. “If it’s that dangerous then it must be holding very precious cargo.”
She released his chin. It stung. “Come along.”
Jude followed her to the barrier. Her words frothed, bubbling through him despite her cool countenance. They said, “Someone cares.”
About him.
It also gave him another clue.
Preston’s parents cared about him too, but they didn’t go around building magical poison barriers around the house. Why was Jude important enough to merit such drastic measures?
Miss Charlotte put a hand on the invisible barrier Jude couldn’t see but could feel as a powerful build of static electricity. His skin prickled and tingled, and the sensation was all together unpleasant, the magic trying to warn him.
Stay away.
Touching the edge hadn’t been easy. It had tried to repel him even before he’d touched it. The air thickening. Pockets of wind pushing him away.
She walked up to it easily. When she put a hand to it (the untainted one), the thickness died away and they were able to pass through.
When he was ten, he worked up enough courage to ask some questions. He told his fox friend, Bandit, he was gonna do it. His fox that wasn’t a fox. Jude knew he wasn’t a fox because he could feel the siza