Rollin Hand's Blog, page 3

Ted and the Suburban Spanking Club

My newest eBook is now live and available from Amazon. The link is HERE
Ted is one lucky guy. He has, by chance, moved into a neighborhood populated by a group of fun-loving singles whose idea of a good time is a Friday night card game where the stakes are a little unusual. If you guessed strip poker you'd be close, but seeing as how this is a spanking blog, even Inspector Clouseau would probably get it right the first time. So as they say on the WPT, "let's go down to the felt." Here's a brief excerpt:



"Ok girls and boys," said Donna with a grin. "We finish this hand and see what's what."
I had folded. Amy, looking nervous, tried to bluff her way through it in an attempt to get into positive territory. But it wasn't much of a bluff in a High Chicago game where Jill had an ace of spades in the hole. Too bad.
"All right, Everyone count up," said a gleeful Jill.
I had 342 chips, so I was up. So was Donna. So was Jill. Amy was the big loser. She had lost 110. Leslie and Diane were down but not as much. Kyle was right in the middle. Everyone stood up and we moved away from the table and into the den.
"I guess it's me first, isn't it?" said Leslie. "I'm down 35 and I have to buy from Jill, so let's see, I'll take 7 paddle licks on my panties."
"Always a pleasure to sell you more chips, Leslie," laughed Jill. "But you know the rule. Strip down to your skivvies, girl."
Leslie stripped down to a very fetching light blue lace bra and panty set, while Jill picked up the paddle.
"Right here, honey," said Jill, gesturing with the paddle to a spot right next to her. "Hands on your knees and stick it out."
Blushing, Leslie bent over gingerly, hands on her knees. This pushed her adorable bottom out. Jill tapped the rounded cheeks with the paddle. Splat! "Oooh" Smack! "Yeouch!" Splat! Smack! Two in a row. Leslie's bottom did a delicious little wiggle.
"Oooh, Jill, that smarts!" "You look just adorable, dear." Jill drew back the paddle again and whipped it down on the pertly presented backside. Splat! "ow!" Smack! "Ow...ow!" "One more, Leslie, here goes..." Splat! "Ouch!" yelled Leslie and shot up straight, hands clutching her seat. Leslie faced us her mouth a wide "O" as she rubbed.
"Ok, who's next?" asked Jill.
"Uh, I think it's me, unfortunately, and I have to buy 44 chips from...oh, God... Ted," said Diane, as she realized that I was the second highest winner.
Taking a deep breath, Diane began divesting herself of her outer clothing. She was wearing a kind of tight sarong wraparound skirt which she unhooked and tossed over a sofa. This left her in a wispy black bikini panties and a black top which she unbuttoned to reveal a black push-up bra. She had nicely shaped but not large breasts. As she turned away I noted her shapely behind, the edges of the pear-shaped cheeks peeking out from the sides of the skimpy black panties.
"I guess I'll pay in increments of two, Ted, so I'll take them bare butt. How do you want me?"
Hmmm...a delicious prospect. My brain was still not registering the fact that I was about to spank the bare behind of this lovely woman as a card game forfeit.
"I guess we'll do this the old fashioned way," I said pulling up a sturdy chair from the table, "drape yourself over my knee, Diane."
Blushing, Diane walked around to my right side and gingerly lowered herself across my lap. The feel of her nearly nude delectable body over my knee was almost painfully arousing. I slipped my fingers into the elastic of the flimsy panties and tugged. Diane raised herself a little so that they slipped down to her knees revealing a shapely bare seat, plump ovals with little dimples in the sides. I patted her bottom. It was springy, resilient. The feel of her smooth wobbly fanny was intoxicating. She gave a little wriggle.
"Twenty-two, right?" I said.
"That's right, Ted," laughed Donna, "go ahead and exact payment--good and hard."
I needed no further prompting and proceeded to smack Diane's delicious bottom. Splat! The left cheek wobbled. A red handprint came up. Spank! A little harder on the right. Splat! dead center. "Oooch...ow...", Diane gave a little jump.
"That's putting some steam into it, Ted, make her squirm," encouraged Donna.
 I proceeded to spank Diane's wobbling fanny 19 more times without pause. The feeling of my palm hitting those soft satiny bottom cheeks was electric. My hand flattened each rounded summit with a splat! that caused a jiggle and left a red handprint. I spanked on alternating sides and kept up a steady pace so I guess the spanks fell at intervals of about 1 or 2 seconds apart.
"Yeowch...ow...nhhh....ow..." Diane wasn't shy about vocalizing her distress.
"That's giving it to her good, Ted," said Jill clapping her hands in glee.
After the first few Diane started squirming a bit, and I must have done a good job because by the end my hand stung.
"Ok, all done," I said flipping her upright.
She looked at me with an astonished expression. Her hands flew to her seat and she rubbed. "Wow! You can spank! I hope I don't lose to you again." This last comment said as she pulled her pants back up, giving me a glimpse of soft curls hiding her womanhood. Did I detect moisture glistening there?

Coming Soon--new eBook release

To be released soon, Ted and the Suburban Spanking Club, is a bit of retro spanking erotica.



Originally published as the internet classic, “A Guy at Girls’ Poker Night,” this volume is over 30,000 words of retro-style spanking erotica.
Ted is an ordinary guy who moves into a neighborhood populated by some extraordinary women and an even more extraordinary club. It seems like your average Friday night poker club. But when Ted is invited to join the club, little does he suspect that the girls and the guys don’t play for money—they play for spanks. So begins a saga that explores the wilds of American suburbia, and the sexy escapades of lonely divorcees, single guys on the make, single gals looking for Mr. Right Now, and everyone looking for action. It’s a free for all where the booze flows freely and inhibitions are discarded along with clothing. In this novella, bare bottom spankings, paddlings, switchings and strappings abound, and all at the turn of a card. The action is multiple orientations—M/F, F/F and a generous dose of F/M. Written in the pseudo ‘60’s style of Will Henry this eBook is a spanko throwback to those days of yore when books like this came in a plain brown wrapper.
Publication date to be announced soon.

Writing Process Blog Hop

I was tagged in the Writing Process Blog Hop by Cara Bristol, a lovely and very talented writer of spanking/BDSM themed romantic fiction. Her Sci-fi  “Breeder” series is very popular and rolling along like a juggernaut. She also has written a series based upon a BDSM club called “The Rod and Cane Society,” also highly recommended.
So the way this works, I have to answer 4 questions. They are set out below.


What am I working on?
Right now I have several things going, and it always seems that way, that projects run in parallel. First there is a novel to be published by Stormy Nights that is a medieval romance based very loosely on the old classic, The Prince and the Pauper. Except this time the role switching involves an abducted princess who must seek help from an outlaw to regain her rightful place. In addition, the girl impersonating the princess is a pawn of the same sinister forces, and must join up with a brave knight to find the princess and save the kingdom. Naturally both couples become romantically involved, and in both cases it’s about being jerked out of the life you knew and thrust into a wholly different existence. It’s also about the problems inherent in romantic attractions between people who are from different strata of society.
Another project is the re-editing of an old classic called “A Guy at Girl’s Poker Night” to be retitled as “Suburban Fantasies” and self published on Amazon and other platforms. This one is reminiscent of the old Will Henry type of spanking fiction from the 60’s.
Finally I’m working on a new collection of F/M stories that might be published as volume 4 in the “Strict Ladies” series. These are going to be very sexually charged F/M stories.

How Does My Work Differ from Others in the Genre?
When it comes to the spanking story genre, I’m more plot-driven than others. Most spanking stories don’t bother too much with plot outside of the essential action. But I do. I try to tell a story first that’s compelling in its own right and then merge that with a spanking romance or erotica element. The idea is to combine the two seamlessly. The spanking romance writers already do this, but that’s almost a whole separate genre. My work differs from theirs in that my books are not always romances that follow traditional romance novel conventions. They can be crime dramas or thrillers, for example.
Why Do I Write What I Do?
At first, way back at the turn of the century, I wrote for me. I had read a lot of spanking fiction (my preferred medium) but I was tired of the stereotypes so common to the genre. I wanted more plot, more vivid and unique characters. I’m a huge consumer of fiction in the mystery, thriller, sci-fi and horror genres, and so that’s what I wanted to write, only with spanking erotica layered in. At heart, I’m a storyteller and entertainer. I like entertaining folks. My stories garnered some favorable comment on various internet boards like LSF, and I kept at it. Eighteen months ago I discovered Amazon’s self publishing platform, KDP. I stuck my toe in the water and sold a few books. Then it got bigger.  Now it’s a part time enterprise for me.



What is my Writing Process?
It starts with an idea banging around in my head that won’t leave me alone. Or, I see something—a scene on TV in some drama, a book I read---and I ask myself, “ok what if…?”The “what if” is the layering in of a spanking-related element. An example is the eBook, The Menace from Mongo. I was watching the old Flash Gordon serial on Netflix and laughing at the cheesy script and production values and thought “but what if there was this corporal punishment culture on Mongo?” Set up the right circumstance and one can always substitute flogging for a heat ray torture or something. Thus a story was born.
Anyway, then I decide on POV. I usually adopt a third person limited POV which means the action is seen through the experience of one person at a time. I shift this POV, but only between a couple of main characters, and never within the same scene, so every scene “belongs” to one character.
Then I start writing. I have a loose idea of the plot and I have a notion of how it ends, at least in the broad sense. But I let situations and characters develop as I go. That’s because things occur to me in mid story (another ‘what if’ moment). I write a condensed version of the whole thing. I know I’m going to come back and embellish later, but I want the essential story in this first version.
Then I go back, adding here, cutting there, until I have a real first draft. Then I put it down and go do something else. When I come back to it, I can be more critical and rewrite what bothers me. When I have a second draft I scan it for errors like echos, tense changes, typos etc. I won’t catch them all, so I try and find some poor soul who will beta-read it for me. After the beta reader is done, I go back through one more time and then it’s either plug it in to KDP or send it to the publisher for their take.
Now I know I’m supposed to “tag” someone, but as of today just about everyone I know has been tagged. I’ve asked Grant Antrews but have not heard back from him, so Grant, if you are reading this you are “it.” Grant is a superb writer of F/M erotica and I highly recommend that you trot on over to www.GrantAntrews.com and see if he has picked up the gauntlet.

The Cat

An original story, very loosely inspired by the classic movie, "To Catch a Thief." It starred Cary Grant and Grace Kelly. The lore is that Cary Grant used to spank his wife, Dyan Cannon, in front of the servants. Certainly an intriguing image if you can imagine that. But I digress. Here is:

THE CAT

He paused as he entered the penthouse apartment. He was about to head straight to the back hallway when he realized that something wasn't right. He had a sixth sense about these things, and that sixth sense was now shouting in his head like a drill sergeant with a megaphone. So, cautiously he made his way through the foyer, along the wall in the large living room, creeping as soundlessly as possible, his ears attuned to the smallest sound. There were traffic sounds below, but he blocked them out. It was white noise, he told himself. Listen for what doesn't fit. What he was listening for was the click of a shoe on a hardwood floor, the rustle of clothing, the creak of a floorboard. Not only that, there was a scent lingering in the air, something floral he guessed. But he knew it didn't belong.

That he was worried was understandable. Trendy upper market condos and apartments all over the city had been hit by the burglar the news media had dubbed  "The Cat." It was all because of his (or her?) ability to break into the highest floors of high rise buildings guarded by the very best security and steal the occupants blind. And all without leaving a trace. Jewelry was a favorite target. So were bonds, cash, and securities. The Cat always went for the big stuff. He didn't fool around with pedestrian goods like credit cards, drugs or guns.

And that is what concerned Carl. A large cache of the family's jewelry was kept here along with bearer bonds. There was a wall safe in the bedroom loaded with diamond and gold necklaces, ruby brooches, rings and pins inlaid with other precious stones-emerald, sapphire, and onyx. There were pearl earrings and even some jade. It was quite a collection. A perfect target for The Cat.

Some said The Cat was an ex circus performer, maybe one of those Cirque De Soleil acrobats, able to scale tall buildings like a human fly. Some said he was a CIA agent gone rogue with a crew of security and alarm system experts who helped him break into such well-guarded places. But no one knew. It was all speculation. No one had ever seen the master thief. He came and went like a ghost.

The designer kitchen was to his right along with a large media room. The family was in the movie production business and every house, condo or apartment that it owned had a media room. The four spacious bedrooms and a large library were to his left. He doubted that whoever was here would have been in the kitchen or media room. The wall safe with the jewelry was in the library.

So what to do? Should he confront the thief? Because by now he had concluded that there was very likely a thief in the apartment. Just flip on a light and shout "stop thief"? No, dumb idea. Suppose they were armed? He could just exit and call 911, but suppose he was wrong? That would be embarrassing if what he sensed here was not The Cat, but just-- the cat? But he didn't think so. Someone was here and they were being stealthy about it. He needed confirmation. First get more data then decide what to do, he told himself.

As quietly as he could, he slid along the wall. There was enough ambient light from the moon coming through the large living room window that he could see well enough. He made his way down the hall to the library, for if someone was here, doing what he thought they were doing, that is where they would be. He found the library door ajar so he peeked through the crack-- and saw movement. There was a dark clad figure inside. It was moving in a half crouch, scanning the wall with a small LED flashlight. Carl merely watched. The figure was dressed all in black, head to toe, complete with a black stocking cap and black gloves.

Then the figure expelled a sigh of exasperation and stood straight up. Illumination from the window bathed the figure in moonlight. And what a figure it was! Carl did a double take. This was a woman. And a very shapely one at that. The black clothing was a skin tight one-piece jump suit that looked like it had been painted on. The suit outlined every curve of the woman's body, from the high-set breasts to the narrow waist to the flaring hips and pertly shaped behind. Her hair was tucked up under the cap but a few wispy strands of light colored hair poked out from underneath it. Carl guessed she was a blonde, maybe five-four, one hundred and fifteen pounds. The painted-on jumpsuit left no place for a weapon. Carl relaxed.
Now he'd find out what was going on here.

"Ahem," said Carl, stepping into the room.

The girl let out a startled scream and jumped, knocking over a figurine on a nearby desk. Fortunately it was bronze.

"Who are you?" she said in a shaky voice.

"I'd ask you the same question. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm...I'm here to retrieve something that's mine," she said, recovering a bit from the abrupt startle.

"Something that's yours," repeated Carl, nodding thoughtfully. "A book perhaps? We are in the library, after all."

"Who are you?" she repeated.

"I'm someone who should be here-unlike you. After all, I am looking after the place. You can't be too careful these days, what with all the cat burglars around."

"I'm not a cat burglar," she said. "You people stole something from my family and I want it back."

"Well, this gets more interesting by the minute," said Carl, now curious. "Close those drapes over there. I'll let you tell me all about it before I call the police."

She thrust out a hand. "No, please. No. Not the police. That will ruin everything."

"I suspect it will," said Carl. "Jail usually does."

"No, no. You don't understand. You have my father's screenplay-the one that you stole."

Carl held up his hands, palms out. "I have nothing to do with that part of the family's business. I wouldn't know what you are talking about."

"Well, they took it and they plan to use it." She took off the cap and shook her head. Long blonde hair came tumbling out framing a very attractive face. "Rodger Villers took it."

Carl considered this. "Rodger, eh? Figures. Actually, I never had much use for Rodger."

She licked her lips. "Look, I don't actually want it, I just want to photograph it. So I can prove it's here, that Villers took it. It's a thick manuscript, hand written. It's in the wall safe, which is somewhere in this room. That's all I want. Then I was never here, ok?"

She had pulled the drapes closed so Carl flipped on a light. Yes, definitely a gorgeous girl. What was she? Nineteen? Twenty? She stood there nervously, waiting for his response. Carl didn't say anything. He was mulling over what to do. Finally he said, "Who's your father, then? And just how did you get up here?"

 "I'm a champion gymnast at my college. It wasn't that hard." She sounded proud of herself.

Carl could see that. She had that healthy athletic look about her. With that body she could be a gymnast.

"And your father?"

"Merton Sanderson. Maybe you've heard of him," she said. "He was a famous screenwriter, but that was some years ago. He retired but he had one last script idea and he wrote it. Rodger Villers said he was interested and somehow he got his hands on it."

"So your father sent you to sneak in here and get it?"

"No," she said. "He doesn't know anything about it."

That gave Carl an idea. "What do you think he'd do if he knew his little girl was committing a felony, putting herself in danger of going to jail?"

"I don't know," she said. She folded her arms in a sullen gesture. "What's it to you?"

It was the attitude that made up Carl's mind for him. A bratty princess for sure. He went over to where he knew the wall safe was. It was fairly obviously behind a picture. He lifted the picture and spun the dial, listening for the clicks, feeling the resistance. The safe popped open. Lying under the jewelry and a folio of what looked like bonds was a thick manuscript. He slid it out.

"Is this it?" he asked, holding it up.

"Yes. Please give it to me. It's not yours." She was holding out her hand.

"All right," he said. "You can have it..."
She reached for it but he pulled it up, away from her grasp.
"...after your spanking."

"What?"

"You heard me. There is a penalty for burglary. Ten to twenty years, probably. I'm letting you go with a spanking. You should thank me."

"You're not serious." She was in shock.

"Oh, I'm very serious. Take your spanking like a good girl and I'll let you photograph the manuscript and walk out of here." Carl had considered various alternatives like calling the police, which he rejected, just letting her go, which he also rejected. She was just a stupid kid, but he felt that justice required...well, something. A good spanking seemed reasonable. Here she was, an amateur (obviously not The Cat), trying to help her father, but screwing up royally. Probably the last thing Merton Sanderson would have wanted was his little girl in jail for attempting such a hairbrained stunt. He might have tanned her hide himself, had he known.  And what a lovely hide. Carl had to admit that the girl's shapely figure had played a role in his decision.

She just stood there, the wheels turning for a moment, then she said, "Oh, very well. But this is the silliest thing I ever heard of."

Carl shrugged. "Maybe, but it's what is going to happen if you want that manuscript."

She folded her arms and glowered at him. "So how do we do this? And hurry up. Someone else might come back."

"Shouldn't you have thought of that before? Someone bursting in? But they won't. We have plenty of time." Carl knew the others were not coming back anytime soon.
"Anyway the 'way we do this' is the usual way." Carl looked around and saw an armless chair. He went to fetch it. "So first, take off that jump suit."

"What? But...but  I'm naked underneath!"

"Went commando did you?" said Carl dryly. "I don't spank through clothes. If you'd had panties, I'd have let you keep them on, but as it is..."
She stared in disbelief, but Carl was unmoved, his face like stone. After a minute she got it. Her hands went to the zipper at the top of the suit.

Carl sat in the chair. He watched as the girl slowly peeled out of the tight one-piece. First her breasts popped out. Then her furry triangle appeared as she pulled down the tight garment. Watching her strip was incredibly sexy. She had to wriggle to get out of it. "Turn around," he said. She sighed and muttered "whatever" but obeyed. The view from the rear was breathtaking. Her bottom cheeks were full and round, a saucy pair that popped out the tight sheath of the jump suit. They wobbled slightly as if begging for attention. Well, they were going to get it.

Fully naked now, she tossed the suit aside. "Ok, now what?" she said defiantly.

He pointed at his lap. "Across my knee, little girl."

She walked to his side. Under her breath she muttered "I can't believe this." But she put her hands on his thighs  and lowered herself over his lap. Carl shifted her until her body was forward and her luscious bottom was cocked up over his left knee. He locked his left arm across the small of her back and rested his right hand on the satiny cheeks, patting, assessing the resiliency of the flesh he was about to chastise.

"By the way," he said. "What's your name?"

"Kiri," she croaked. "Kiri Sanderson."

*****

Kiri Sanderson couldn't believe this was happening. Here she was, stark naked, across this man's knee so he could give her a humiliating spanking. Her eyes teared up. It wasn't right. She felt vulnerable, exposed, and-- her body betraying her again, aroused. How was that possible? Was it because the guy was so devilishly good looking? Or so confident and in control? All she knew is that chills were competing with dread and embarrassment at her situation.

The plan had been hasty, but it was all she'd been able to think of. When she'd heard that the Villers' were out of town she'd known it was her only chance. Get evidence that her father's manuscript was here. How could she have anticipated that some relative would still be around?

Her reverie was interrupted by a sharp crack and a burst of hot sting across her buttocks. Yow! That had hurt! He had struck her! But she didn't have time to dwell on it as his palm smacked her bare bottom rapidly, first on one side then the other. The sting built up, each smack feeling hotter than the last. She had thought that maybe this was going to be just a token thing, a demonstration of dominance by an alpha male. But it hurt. This was getting serious. The steady crack! crack! crack! of his spanking palm made her bottom blaze hot. It stung like hornets and she wriggled shamelessly, unable to control her body's reaction.

"Ow! Wah! Ow!" she squealed as the smacks piled on, one after another. Her behind felt like it was glowing. This was awful. She arched her back in a vain attempt to diminish the target. She fluttered her legs, but his arm was like an iron bar across her back.

The relentless spanking of her naked sit spots went on and on. She felt like losing it, like breaking down sobbing. But at the same time she felt lubrication between her legs. In response she rubbed her quim against the hard knob of his knee. Pleasure competed with pain. Suddenly after peppering her bottom with a barrage of hot stinging spanks, he wasn't smacking her as hard. And he was rubbing her between spanks. It was getting to her. It made her feel like she wanted to pinch her nipples. What was he doing to her?

*****

Carl had decided to give her a real spanking, so he smacked the wiggling behind with brisk meaty smacks that made sharp retorts in the otherwise silent room. Her cheeks bounded and rippled as his palm made contact. The girl had a perky butt, prominent and muscular. It was the result, no doubt, of all that gymnastics practice. She writhed and squirmed but he had a good grip on her. Besides, he was seven inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. She wasn't going anywhere.

Then he moderated the spanking. He didn't want to hurt her, just teach her a good lesson. He began to alternate the spanks with rubbing.

"Do you think you can be a good girl now?"

"Yes. Yes. Just please stop. Ow!" He'd landed a particularly sharp smack.

Carl figured it had been a couple of minutes worth of steady spanking. Her beautiful bottom was fire engine red and glowing. His palm was stinging. Abruptly he stopped and stood her on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable standing there rubbing her bottom.

"I'd make you stand in the corner, but you don't have time. Get dressed." He tossed her the jumpsuit. It was amusing, watching her wriggle into the tight jump suit, especially when she pulled it up over her hips and hissed as the fabric rubbed across her reddened and sore bottom.

He let her photograph the manuscript while he went through a closet and found a trench coat that looked like it would fit.

"You look too conspicuous in that Emma Peel getup," he said. "Wear this and walk out the front door for a change."

She gave him a curious look as he let her out the door. She seemed almost reluctant to leave. "You never told me your name," she said.

"Carl. My name is Carl."

She managed a coquettish smile. "Well, Carl, you know my name, and you know my father's name..."

She let it hang there, but Carl knew what she was suggesting without saying it. He was attracted to her too. He waited for a moment then went to the window. She crossed the street below and hailed a cab. He watched her start to get in, then hesitate, turning and lifting her head to look up at the big penthouse window. Then she was gone.

Carl sighed. Well, that had been unexpected, an interlude to break up an otherwise routine evening. He went back to the library and picked up the manuscript. Then he went to the safe and scooped up the jewelry and the bearer bonds. Not bad, he mused. With the fee that Sanderson had given him to steal back the manuscript, and the cash he'd get for the jewels and bonds, it was going to be quite a profitable haul for The Cat. He chuckled, trying to imagine the look on Merton's face when his daughter showed him the photographs. A gymnast, eh? Maybe it was time The Cat had a partner.

Cracker Barrel

 It's a chain of combination gift shop and restaurant establishments, usually located on major travel routes. For those of us into TTWD, they are notable for the fact that at one time they sold these little cedar paddles--you know, the ones with the cute sayings on them, like "For the cute little dear with the bear behind," and "wife tamer" or "Attitude Adjuster".
                              

At any rate, for many, the road signs announcing that one was approaching a Cracker Barrel invoked certain memories...ones that may have proved useful in the right circumstance.

From The Naughty Wives Collection, Vol. 2  here is:

 CRACKER BARREL

Tracy stomped on the gas, pushing the little red BMW to close to eighty five. Her teeth were clenched and her lips were pursed as she thought again of how Dex had driven her to this. She had stormed out of the house in a rage and now she was headed for who knew where. His precious budget. Was that all he cared about? What about her? It wasn't enough that he had made her move to this podunk town, far away from her friends in Atlanta, the country club, the shops, the restaurants and everything else. No, it was also the money. All because his little company was just getting started, they had no money. And so it was a never ending chorus of "no honey, we can't afford it".

What really made her mad is that he wouldn't take daddy's money. He wanted to do it on his own. Daddy had offered him that job at the bank, but Dex had turned him down. Well for God's sake, if she had to live in some hick backwater, she could at least show the locals some style.

It had been so satisfying to show up at church, at bridge night, going over to meet the locals and their wives, absolutely dressed to the nines. And with all the right shoes and accessories. She finally smiled to herself. That had showed them all right. The women had gaped at her in envy and the men had gaped at the way her shapely figure had filled out her custom tailored dresses. Perfect. She was hot and she knew it. It almost made wasting away in this rural hell worth it.

So now Dex was going to ruin it all, to take that last little bit away, and all because he insisted on starting up this company of his, doing it all on his own, without her daddy's help. The last straw had been the six pairs of shoes she had just bought. "Take them back," Dex had said. She'd stamped her foot and refused. Couldn't he understand? She needed all six pairs for all the different combinations that went with her outfits. Then Dex got angry and had lectured her again on the need to be frugal until they actually made some money. And she'd thrown it in his face again about daddy's offer and how this was all  his fault and so unnecessary. She had touched a nerve with that one. He had started to get steamed.

Then he had calmed down and had sat her down and patiently explained again. That had made her madder, it seemed. As an ex-linebacker for the Georgia Tech football team, you'd think he'd just raise his voice and get overbearing, but no. Instead he'd shoved the anger aside and got all patient and reasonable.

 Well, not her. She had told him, "You're just a stupid redneck jock and I don't know why I ever married you." The hurt look on his face gave her some satisfaction that she'd scored a bull's eye. Then without giving him a chance to talk, she'd stormed out, jumped in the car and driven off. Maybe this marriage was a bust. Maybe she should have stayed single or married Chad Pennington, like her parents had wanted. But Chad was no Dex Clarkson. Chad was an urban sophisticate. He was good looking, came from the right family, was already a member of her daddy's country club and an up and coming estate lawyer. But he was bland.

 Dex, on the other hand, wasn't as polished. She was an Emory girl and they had met at a sorority party. He'd grown up poor and had made it to Georgia Tech on a football scholarship. But, all that aside, oh my. He was pure male animal---tough, confident and aggressive in that understated way that had made her knees wobble. He rarely let it show, but it was always there, the alpha aggression. He had bad boy looks and a lithe build that hid just how strong he was. They said he'd been small for a linebacker, but his size had been no impediment to his ability to bring down even the biggest running backs.

Don't think about that now, she told herself. Dex may be a male animal, and in the bedroom he proved it, but there were more important things than great sex. She could not continue to live like this. Soon she'd be wearing nothing but crap from Wal Mart, living like some hayseed Daisy Mae. What she needed was a drink. Just up ahead was a roadhouse. She pulled into the parking lot.

*****************************************************************
Dex ran his hands through his hair. It had been hours since Tracy had stormed out. Where would she go? Damn, was it his fault? No, he decided. She wasn't acting like an adult. In many ways she was a pampered child, daddy's spoiled princess. And now that life, the one she'd known, was behind her. She was his wife now and where he went, she went. At least, that was the way it was supposed to be. But she wasn't having any of it. She still thought she was part of that big city country club set where money just fell from the skies. Well he was a struggling entrepreneur not the president of a bank, like her damn daddy. Well, this had been building for some time, and she'd finally pulled the plug.

Would she go home? She had declared that it was over. That she was leaving. Home would make sense. He'd have to call Mr and Mrs Fortner. Which he hated to do. Relations were chilly. He had sensed their disapproval nearly every step of the way. But they had gone through with the wedding, albeit reluctantly. He picked up the phone.

*****************************************************************
She slid into a booth along a side wall. It was a Friday night
and the bar was busy. Some cornpone country band was playing. She had a thought then. She'd go home---to daddy's house. Then she'd start the divorce or annulment proceedings or whatever. This marriage to Dex had been a bad idea. Sure, he could make a girl squirm with pleasure, but there was more to life than that. Or was there? She hesitated while a hot memory rose up and provoked a response in her lower regions. No! Just put that out of your mind, girl. Daddy had lawyers. She dialed the number on her cell.

**********************************************************************
"Yes, Dex, I know where she is, but she is on her way home. I'd prefer that you not talk to her or try to stop her. I'm sorry, but I think it's over." Ted Fortner sat smugly in his home office holding the phone. He'd just heard from Tracy and she had told him that she had stopped at a diner or something called Uncle Bob's Inn on route 41. But he did not intend to tell Dex that. The girl had finally come to her senses. Maybe it wasn't too late for an annulment.

Dex could not agree. "Mr Fortner, I'm worried about her. I'll do whatever she wants, but I should find her. Just tell me where she is, if she's ok, she'll be on her way home to you if that's what she wants." And he meant it. Maybe in some weird way Tracy was right. She wasn't cut out for this. She was still a child and not ready for marriage. And the "dumb jock" insult had stung. Maybe he was ready to hang it up, too.

Ted Fortner sighed. "All right, Dex. It's called Uncle Bob's or something. She just stopped for a bite. But don't you dare cause a scene, young man or I'll have the police..."

Dex hung up. He'd heard enough. Uncle Bob's. Yeah, he'd driven by it. It wasn't too far. He grabbed his keys.

******************************************************************

Tracy was getting nervous. She just wanted to be left alone, but these men kept coming over and asking her to dance. She didn't want to dance with them. And everyone was drinking more. It was getting louder. A woman came over and slid into the booth. She was heavily made up, a bottle blonde with big hair.

"You know, honey, it ain't smart to refuse to dance with Duane over there. Duane gets what he wants one way or another and he can get downright mean. Take a word of advice. Play nice with Duane." Then she left.

Tracy shrunk back into the booth as if she could make herself smaller. But the blonde and Duane and his buddies were all laughing and looking her way. What could she do? If she got up to leave they might follow her into the parking lot. She knew. She'd call Chad Pennington. He had a fast car and he could get here and escort her out. She dialed his number. To her great relief he answered.

"Tracy, how are you? How is life up in...where exactly is it?"

"Chad I need your help." She explained her predicament.

"It sounds rough, Tracy. Why don't you call the police?" She explained they hadn't done anything yet. She just felt scared.
"Well, look, I'd like to help, but I'm at an important party right now. I can't just leave. I have some important clients here and...."

Tracy hung up. Damn. The selfish son of a bitch. See if she'd give him the time of day when she got back to Atlanta. She'd call daddy. She punched in the number. Nothing happened. Her cell phone had died.

Dex didn't want to speed but he had a bad feeling. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he had heard bad things about Uncle Bob's. Fights. Drugs. He'd been on the road for half an hour when he spotted it. He wheeled into the parking lot. Sure enough, there was Tracy's BMW.

***************************************************************
"So what makes you so all high and mighty? I just want to dance with you. Come on." The man named Duane stood in a group of his smiling buddies who snickered. "She's too classy for you, Duane. Looks like you're down in flames, buddy." They all laughed. Duane got red in the face. He was clearly drunk.

"Is that it? I ain't good enough for you? Miss High Society, is that it? Well, you're gonna dance whether you like it or not. I want to see you shake that classy ass of yours." He grabbed her arm. Tracy squealed.

"Let go of her, bud." The voice came from behind him. They all turned to see the lean six footer advance rapidly toward them. His expression was dead serious. "Let go of her arm or you'll be carried out on a stretcher."

"Well, now, who the hell are you?"

"I'm her husband, bud."

Duane rose up like a bandy rooster and looked Dex up and down. He was bigger, but it was mostly flab. That didn't stop him.

 "You need to take better care of your woman, then." Duane chuckled and turned back to Tracy. "C'mon, girl, let's dance." He grabbed her arm.

It happened so fast, it never even registered with Duane. Dex grabbed his shirt collar with his left. His right connected with Duane's nose and broke it, which left Duane screaming shrilly, blood pouring over his face. Duane's friends backed up. Faced with that kind of speed and aggression they wanted no part of this guy.

"Let's go Tracy." Dex took her hand pulled her out of Uncle Bob's roadhouse.

"My car," she said.

"You've had a few drinks. I'll drive you here tomorrow. Then you can get it and continue on to Atlanta. That's what you want, isn't it?" All the way there Dex had been thinking. She wants a divorce? Fine. But he'd get her home safely. He looked straight ahead and drove, not saying a word.

Tracy was relieved-and confused. Dex was the one who had come, not Chad Pennington. How he found her she didn't know, but right now she was so grateful. He'd rescued her even after she'd insulted him and walked out. She slunk down in the seat while he drove, relieved but ashamed of herself.

The sign said "Cracker Barrel---five miles".

Cracker Barrel. It was one of those country shops that were all over. They sold snacks and tourist stuff. Then the memory hit her. That summer vacation when she'd gone with her friend Misty Wagner on that trip. It had been her and Misty and Misty's mom and dad. And for some reason Misty had been a holy terror, whining all the way. She'd wanted something---oh yeah, some candy popcorn. Her father had not wanted to stop. So she pouted and whined and fussed. It was the summer before 8th grade. They'd been thirteen. Finally her mother had turned around and told her to behave or else. And then Misty had called her an old bitch. That had done it.

They were just pulling up on a Cracker Barrel. Mr Wagner pulled in and stopped the car. He didn't say a word. He just got out of the car, went in, and came back minutes later with a small bag. He handed it to Mrs Wagner. She peered in the bag and said, "I agree, George."
Later they got to the cabins at the lake. Mrs Wagner had said, "Tracy, let's go outside. Misty has something to discuss with her father." Tracy remembered the feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was about to happen. She felt embarrassed and excited at the same time. A few minutes went by, then from inside the cabin she heard the sound. It was a series of sharp cracks---like wood hitting flesh. It went on for a time. She heard muffled crying and pleading. Mrs Wagner calmly said, "I didn't tell you Tracy, but there are some things we don't tolerate and insulting language is one of them. Misty is getting a spanking. She is over her father's knee and he is spanking her little behind with a paddle he got at the Cracker Barrel. If that upsets you, we'll take you home in the morning."

But, she had stayed. She had gone in to be with Misty afterwards and her friend had cried it all out. Misty had confided tearfully that she had deserved it, that she didn't know what had put her in such a mood.
But later the incident seemed forgotten. It was like a summer storm that blows over. They were a loving family, and now that punishment had been meted out, it was over. Mr Wagner even took them fishing the next day.

Later Misty had showed her the paddle. It was just a little thing. About a foot and a half long, it had cutesy sayings on it---"for wives that nag and burn the toast. Put me to work!" It had drawings of kids bent over with stars coming off their butts.

"It really stings," said Misty. "Especially bare," she whispered. Tracy hadn't thought about that, but the sound had been that flat crack that sounded like a slap. In her mind's eye she saw Misty, little white play shorts down around her knees, face down over her dad's knee while the little paddle cracked down on a squirming bare fanny. It gave her tingles in the pit of her stomach.

The sign said, "Cracker Barrel---three miles."

Misty had deserved it and had taken her licking. Then it had been forgotten. The air had been cleared. Misty had apologized to her mom who had hugged her and told her she was forgiven. The world had teetered, but had been righted again. It made her feel sad for her own situation. If only it were that simple. Dex probably didn't want her now. He looked like he was finally fed up with her tantrums. He drove silently, eyes focused straight ahead.

All of a sudden Tracy decided she didn't want a divorce. She realized that she'd made a big mistake. She wanted to come back to Dex. She'd been a spoiled child, pouting and whining. Then she'd hurled insults---just like Misty. But Dex was angry and hurt. How could she make it up to Dex? Get him to take her back and forgive her?

The sign said, "Cracker Barrel---one mile".

An apology would have to be more than an "I'm sorry." She would have to demonstrate that she meant it. This was something that had been building and to reverse it would take drastic action. And what about Dex? Perhaps he had made up his mind? Even if she said she was sorry, maybe he was through with her.

The sign said "Cracker Barrel-500 yards."

"Dex," said Tracy softly, "will you pull in at the Cracker Barrel? I need to get something. It won't take a minute."

Dex sighed, but he pulled off the highway into the lot. She got out and ran inside. Five minutes later she was back, holding a small bag. He wheeled out and they drove home in silence.

Once home, Dex turned to her and said, "You take the bedroom. I'll sleep on the couch. Tomorrow we'll go get your car."

Tracy nodded and went upstairs. She took a deep breath. Can I do this? Will it work? She undressed and looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw. Five foot seven, long streaked blond hair, and legs like a showgirl. She had firm uptilted breasts, not too large, but just right. She turned, looked over her shoulder. Her ass was heart shaped perfection, twin hemispheres that jutted saucily outward from the tops of her thighs. She gulped. If this worked, that cute hiney would have to pay.

She rummaged through her lingerie drawer. There it was, her honeymoon negligee. She slipped it on, a diaphanous white creation with nothing underneath but a pair of dainty lace panties. She slid the Cracker Barrel paddle out of the bag. It was some kind of light wood, but it stung when she slapped her palm with it. She winced as she thought of it smacking her bare bottom cheeks. Maybe he wouldn't she thought. Maybe he'd accept her apology and take her to bed. She realized that she was aroused. Was it was some post traumatic adrenaline rush? No matter. Clutching the paddle she went downstairs.

Dex lay there thinking. His marriage was over, a failure. He had to take some blame too, he supposed. Tomorrow would be a long day. He rolled over on the couch. Movement caught his eye. It was Tracy---and she was wearing, what? A white negligee. What was that in her hand?

"Dex," she said softly. "I've come to apologize."

Dex sat up. Was this for real?

"I've been...well, childish. I've acted like a spoiled brat. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I called you that name. I know it hurt."

"I thought you wanted a divorce," said Dex.

"Not anymore. I want you."

"That's nice, Tracy, but tomorrow when you want to buy clothes or go to a spa and I say no, will you still want me then?"

"I'm serious. Really. I've behaved terribly. And...to show you how sorry I am, I want you to take this." She held out the little paddle.
"I deserve a good spanking for all the grief I've put you through over these months. Use this on me, but take me back. Please Dex, I don't want a divorce and I feel awful about my bitchy attitude."

He took the paddle. It was light. He tapped it in his hand. Was this what she really wanted? It looked like it was. It was in her face---the shame and the guilt. Yeah, maybe this is right. God, she looked sexy as all get out, but she wasn't trying to seduce him---she was asking for a spanking to clear the air it seemed.

"A sound spanking for a naughty wife, huh? I think you may have something there." Tracy's expression brightened. He sat up straight on the edge of the couch. "All right then," he said, "over my knee, young lady. Let's see if I can't adjust your attitude. Then we'll talk."

Tracy stood and lowered herself across Dex' lap. The posture made her cock her bottom up so that it pointed straight at the ceiling. She felt Dex raise the negligee in back. Oh, she shivered. It made her feel so vulnerable.

Dex beheld his wife's ultra shapely derriere propped up over his lap. His cock surged with arousal. He put that aside for now though as he inserted his fingers into the elastic waistband and drew the tiny panties down to her knee hollows. Her bared bottom was breathtaking. He watched, almost mesmerized, as she nervously clenched and unclenched those jouncy cheeks. He took a firm grip on the paddle and brought it back. Then he brought it down in a flat arc.

Smack! Tracy flinched. A hot sting spread across her bottom.
Smack! Another one. It stung more than she'd thought.

A few seconds later---smack! Another one landed, square across her lower behind. Yow! This was intense.

The smacks started to fall with some regularity and they really stung. So this was a spanking, she thought. It had never happened to her before. It was a hot and ever-intensifying sting. She fluttered her legs and humped up and down, squirming over Dex' lap with abandon. She felt her eyes welling up with tears. "Ow! Ow!" She started to vocalize her distress.

Dex got into a rhythm with the little paddle. It didn't take much effort, just a flick of the wrist and the paddle landed with a satisfying crack! Tracy's rear cheeks jiggled lasciviously as each swat connected. He had no idea how many he intended to give her, but she had asked for this so he decided to make this spanking memorable. If she was really sorry and this was what it took to atone, he was going to give her what she needed.

"Oooh...owww, I'm sorrrry." Tracy wailed as smack after smack of the paddle lit a fire in her luscious seat. As she writhed over Dex' lap she felt something else too. Her own arousal was bubbling to the surface, competing with the stinging assault of the paddle. And she could feel Dex' male hardness beneath her.
After a flurry of brisk smacks that made her yelp, Dex stopped. He put down the paddle and ran his hands over Tracy's inflamed mounds. Tracy moaned as Dex' hands rubbed and squeezed the wobbling globes.

"Now," said Dex. "Do you want to start over?" He patted her bottom and watched the ripples as his hand struck.

"Yes, oh, yes Dex." She wriggled. He patted harder. She ground her pelvis against his knee. "Nunnh...Dex?" The pats turned to smacks. She started to hump up and down.

"From now on (smack!), I don't want a lot of complaining (splat! smack!) if I say we can't afford it. (Smack! Splat! Smack!) Understand?

"Oh...ow! Yes, Dex." Yow, it was starting to sting again.

"We'll try to splurge when we can, but you've got to support me. We work together, right? (Smack! Splat!).

"Ow! Yes, yes, darling." Her fanny was on fire again.

A few more brisk spanks to drive the point home and Dex flipped her over, pulling her up onto his lap in a sitting position.

"I know that hurt, Tracy. But it showed me you were serious about us, about our marriage. I'm willing to start again. I forgive you."

Tracy flung her arms around Dex and they kissed passionately. The flimsy negligee hit the floor and Dex carried her to bed naked. She was more than ready, which amazed Dex as he slid into her with no resistance whatsoever. Their coupling was furious, born of the emotional and physical events of the night. At one point he entered her from behind as she presented herself on hands and knees. He marveled at the bright red blush of her bottom. She had really taken a serious paddling. He did all he could to make that one last, stroking in and out slowly while she moaned with pleasure, finally begging him to speed up and finish her.

*****************************************************

Seven years later......

"Ready darling?" asked Dex as they waved goodbye to Tracy's parents who were babysitting their two kids while Tracy and Dex got away for a much needed vacation.

"MMM...and how!" said Tracy, kissing Dex. "Two weeks and no kids. Plenty of time to play."

It had been tough those first few years, but Dex' civil engineering firm had plenty of work now and the money was rolling in. To celebrate the latest big contract they were headed for a luxury resort in the Florida keys. As Dex hummed and drove along, Tracy reflected on how she'd almost thrown it away. Then she saw the sign.

The sign said, "Cracker Barrel-one mile."

She snuggled up against her husband and whispered, "When we get there pull in. There's something I left at home."

 

Guest Post--A Housewife's Tale

First person accounts are the stock-in-trade of spanking literature. I have tons of them scattered about on my hard drive, and I have no idea when or where I got them. I just troll through my collection from time to time looking for something interesting.This one has the feel of what could have been a true account.

I have no idea who authored this piece or when, so if the author sees it and comes forward, I will give him/her full attribution.


A Housewife's Tale

Raised in a fundamentalist Baptist household I was familiar with corporal punishment from a very young age. My parents, more so my mother, believed to spare the rod was to spoil the child and the truth be known, I was just one of nine children who were never spoiled. I got my last spanking with a hairbrush on the bare at age 13 from my mother and from that point forward figured I was too old to be spanked. I was party to what some would say a shotgun wedding at 18, divorced at 22, and looking for a good man, a more mature guy who was financially capable of supporting my 4 year old daughter and myself. I first started dating a guy I had dated for a short period in high school and thought he might be the answer. He was two years my senior and also recently divorced. That never took hold but if I hadn't dated him a couple of times I never would have met his older brother, four years my senior, very mature, never married and financially well set. He had a house, two years left on a mortgage and had recently converted from Catholic to Pentecostal Christian.

My parents were definitely against me getting involved with a Pentecostal for various reasons but even my mother agreed he was much better looking and more responsible than the geeky and spiritually weak bachelors in our church. My father was surprised at the strength of Jake's faith, his resolve to defy his Catholic family and his knowledge of the bible. While he couldn't quote chapter and verse there was no denying his understanding and insight and fundamentalist foundation.

Well we got married within a year, the wedding far more lavish than my first, and my daughter served as flower girl. Long before we got married I was aware that Jake believed in spanking, not as discipline but foreplay, which I found somewhere between obscene and demented despite the fact that he did spank me occasionally and the result was ... well ... in some ways pleasurable and exotic but at the same time I always felt later or the next day it was demeaning, him putting me over his knee as if I was a little girl. Other than this strange kink I never could find any fault with Jake. He handled my daughter better than her real father, teaching her to tie her shoes, write her name, taking time to bake little cakes with her in her Easy Bake Oven and took her to his office where she happily beat at the keys on a typewriter while he attended to business.

The first three months of our marriage were great, then it began to unravel mostly because I now had the chance to do things I never did before I met Jake. I had money, charge cards, and a car he bought for me. I was out shopping during the day, partying with old friends at night and took full, I must admit unfair advantage of Jake's big heart. It also cost me dearly. I missed my daughter's first day of kindergarten because I wasn't home yet when school started at noon. In fact I missed the first two weeks of her introduction to education and by the time I showed up and tried to assert my maternal authority I learned quite a few things had changed. First my daughter refused to wear pony tails or braids and Jake just brushed her hair straight and sometimes added a single ribbon. She ate breakfast every morning without complaint, though I had to admit, scrambled eggs, French toast or pancakes were more to her liking than cold cereal. She sat up late nights with Jake, sharing his chair watching movies on cable. I was mortified to find that in two short weeks my own daughter had become more attached to Jake than me and not only did she respect him. she doted on his every word.

Things got worse. I refused to be reined in and one night I came home about four in the morning. Thankfully my daughter was asleep but I was angry because Jake was waiting up for me and saw that I hadn't been dropped off by a girlfriend but a guy. We were at the five and a half month mark of our marriage and hadn't had sex in more than two, mostly because I was always absent. I accused Jake of spying on me, saying he had no right and his response was quite simple, then why come home at all and to be dropped off by a man besides. I didn't care. He was wrong. I was right. I was old enough to do as I pleased. Jake quickly reminded me I was not living with my parents and I had responsibility to a four and half year old daughter who I had been neglecting for sometime. How dare he! But I knew he was right. I had been using Jake as a free babysitter, ignoring the fact she was more my responsibility than his, and her father who had weekly visitation rights hadn't seen her in more than two months either. Jake said something about calling a lawyer and getting custody from two wayward parents. I hit him. Big mistake. Physically I'm anything but petite, five seven, 140 pounds and I pack it well, full C cup, which never interested Jake all that much and a full round but firm bottom which did. Jake is five ten and 185 pounds of muscle, a former athlete with coordination, reflexes and strong hands and forearms. When he grabbed my wrist the second time I tried to hit him he caught it easily and with so much force I was instantly terrified. My first husband had hit me and I hit back, knocking him down. He tried to strangle me once and I swear I almost killed him. Confronting Jake was entirely different. As he picked me up as easily as he might my daughters Cabbage Patch kid doll and carried me to the bedroom all sorts of thoughts ran through my head. He'd kill me. Maybe rape. Something awful to be sure. When he sat on the corner of the bed and flopped me over his knee I knew. Spank me!

I protested wildly to no avail. His grip was too strong and with both hands and my toes on the floor, my skirt covered flanks raised in sacrifice I was in a terrible position to fight back. Then my skirt went up and when his fingers deftly found the elastic band of my panties I screamed NO! in real terror. I didn't want to find out how much anger and frustration had built up in him over the past three months and I knew I was about to find out. I was like a little girl about to have her bottom warmed by her disappointed father. Only problem, I knew Jake relished spanking where I don't think my father did. I was also quite aware that this spanking was not going to be like any previous, all three in number, made of moderate, considerate slaps which had turned my pale white cheeks a light pink.

My panties came down and I gasped. I felt helpless, terrified, mortified and began praying for a miracle. My panties went down past my knees, slipping to my ankles and the cool air caressed my bare butt. Jake didn't wait to explain or anything. The first smack landed on one bare cheek and while I gasped for air his hand landed on the other with equal force. These smacks were nothing like anything I had previously experienced from Jake. The fire was immediate and it didn't stop. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Like an echo in my head as his hand just kept landing without respite. There were no warm caresses in between, just Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. I was finally conscious of my breathing which must have stopped for the first twelve or so and as felt tears welled up in my eyes and the burning sensation spread I wondered how long, how many more. I don't think my mother ever gave me more than forty and at most twenty with the brush at any one time. My dad, never more than ten, usually one or two good swats and that would be the end of that. My father terrified me but I also knew he loved me. I was wondering if Jake did. If the only reason he married me was for moments like this when he could find any excuse to spank my full round ass to his hearts content and as the spanking went on I was wondering what his heart's content might be.

Fifty, sixty, seventy ... 100! and he just kept going revealing no signs of letting, easing up or stopping. My ass was shaking violently from the violent force as the flat of his whole hand made hard solid contact each and every time and that Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. echoed through the room, off the walls, through my head and off my now smarting ass. I was begging for him to stop and my voice was hoarse. I don't think he could hear me over the repeating sound of his hand against my raw naked flesh. It was like a machine gun, non stop and unrelenting. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. I tried at some point to block the blows but with ease Jake grabbed my wrist and pinned it behind me and just kept on spanking without missing a beat. The spanking must have lasted four of five minutes and in that span I would guess Jake landed at least 300 forceful blows to my bare shaking flesh, perhaps more. He let me up and asked a question which I didn't hear, but stormed off to the bathroom where I rubbed my aching flesh as it throbbed and felt like two balloons swelling. I wiped the tears from my eyes. I didn't want him to know I had been crying. I felt ashamed like a little girl and angry because he could make me feel that way. I was also very conscious of the fact that I was wet and ready for sex, but I would never tell him that. I took off my clothes and still my ass was throbbing. I stepped out of the bathroom and in front of the full length mirror to view the damage. I was aghast! My ass was as red as ripe tomatoes! The dark red hue spread from the crease at the top of my thighs almost to the top of the cleft between. I hadn't realized Jake was watching me. He asked me if I had learned anything. My response was defiant. I called him a sick bastard and again told him he had no right. Wrong answer and I knew the second the words left my lips.

I was now naked and again at his mercy as he pulled me and then pushed me onto the bed, face down, raw red flesh up and exposed. I couldn't believe it! He spanked me even harder, driving my pelvis into the mattress with every smack. Within a minute or so my ass went numb. I could hear the Smack .. Whack .. Smack .. Whack .. and feel the impact as his hand took turns flattening out one cheek then the other, but pain ... I knew it hurt but couldn't really feel it but I knew my ass felt bigger and bigger, the throbbing continued as did the spanking for another three minutes.

Then he took me from behind, so easily. Never was penetration that easy or so quick. I was mortified I could be so ready and willing after he had abused me, treated me like a little girl, and the next morning I was equally ashamed because I came so quickly and three times in a couple of minutes.
Unfortunately that spanking, the worst I had ever endured in my life did nothing to curb my free fall from grace and lead to a repeat performance and then another, but that will have to wait until next time.



   
B

Love Spanks 2014

This year I'm a Love Spanks Ambassador. DT Publications is proud to help sponsor this event, so take a look at the prizes and rules below and be sure to visit all the participating blogs next weekend.


When two grown-ups love each other, someone might get a spanking!How would you like a brand-new Kindle Fire or Nook HD or another prize from a pool valued at over $1,000?
How about free stories from award-winning authors? 
This Valentine’s Day, you can participate in a short story extravaganza! F/F authors will showcase romance, paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy and spanking fiction for your enjoyment. Chat with your favorite authors, meet new-to-you authors, find great new books, and meet new friends!
Want to become a Love Spanks ambassador and earn an extra prize entry? See below!
Even better, participation could earn you a GRAND PRIZE!

Kindle Fire or Nook HD (winner’s choice)!
(donated by Blushing Books)

Book cover plus author promotional package for one F/F book
(donated by Fantasia Frog Designs)Custom social media package for a F/F author
(donated by The Cover Artisan)Pre-publication consultation of a F/F manuscript up to 15K
(donated by Wizards in Publishing)

Beginning Domestic Discipline Boot Camp package:
2 books and a 6-month online couple membership
(donated by Learning Domestic Discipline)Three-month membership to Discipline and Desire
$50 gift certificate to Amazon
(donated by Beachwalk Press)$25 gift certificate to Evernight Publishing
(donated by the same)$10 gift certificate to Amazon
(donated by Read the Rainbow)$10 gift certificate to All Romance Ebooks
(donated by the same)Custom-made wooden paddle*
(donated by Blondie’s Place)
*Available to US and Canada participants onlyAuthor spotlight feature
(donated by VC Erotica)Author feature
(donated by Fallen Over Book Reviews)Author spotlight feature
(donated by Erzabet’s Enchantments)
 Book Bundles from:
Bold Strokes Books
Coming Together
Decadent Publishing
JMS Books
Library of Spanking Fiction
Loose Id
Phaze Books
Ylva Publishing


 Free book for all Love Spankers! Vampire’s Bard by Kate Richards
Plus, the first 50 Love Spankers will receive a copy of The Bodyguard by Saranna DeWylde!


Many authors also will offer a contest on their individual blogs.  Your comment on their blogs automatically enters you in both the main contest and the individual contests! 
What’s the catch?  Absolutely nothing!  We love writing for you and want to thank you for your readership.  Perhaps someone might get a spanking or two, but that’s a reward rather than a catch, right?  ;)
Here are the rules:Visit each blog between Friday, February 7 and Sunday, February 9 to read the posted stories and excerpts.Leave a comment answering the story question on each blog.  You will receive one entry per blog for the grand prize drawing.  You will also be automatically entered in that author’s individual contest, if she has one.If you have visited all of the blogs, visit Ana’s blog to sign up for FIVE bonus entries to the grand prize. 
Deadline is midnight EST (UTC -5) on February 9!!If you successfully completed a previous challenge (Spank or Treat 2013, Spankee Doodle 2013, Love Spanks 2013, or Spank or Treat 2012) challenge, you may add "VIP" to your comments.  You will earn THREE bonus entries toward the grand prize.  (Yes, we will be doing this again.  Yes, if you successfully complete the Love Spanks 2014 challenge you can become a VIP for our next activity!)If you are a F/F author or thinking of becoming one, please add “FF” to your comments. That way, your name will be entered in the special F/F author prize drawings.Visit any of the participating blogs on Friday, February 14 to find out the lucky winners.  Will it be you?

Like these events? Want to support your friendly F/F authors? Become a Love Spanks 2014 Ambassador! In exchange for promoting this event, you will receive one extra prize entry, AND you are still eligible to participate and win prizes!
To find out the details, contact Head Ambassador Tara Finneganat tarafinneganromance at gmail dot com, with the subject line “Love Spanks Ambassador.”
For more information, updates, and a list of participating authors, please visit:
http://governingana.wordpress.com  Like us on Facebook!Twitter hashtag: #lovespanks

A New Release on Blushing Books

I'm excited to announce that tomorrow, Blushing Books is releasing my supernatural thriller novel,  LaForge, on its website with a completely redesigned cover.
Now, LaForge has been out for awhile, on Amazon and some other platforms, but it is not widely known among the romance enthusiasts who Blushing Books serves. And it should be, because at its heart, LaForge is very much a romantic novel.

The story centers at first around Sam Reilly a contractor who retires from the rat race to pursue his passion for cabinet making in rural Pennsylvania. There he meets a group of women who he comes to know as the Delphian Sisterhood, four very pretty young women living a simple communal life on their own terms. After saving two of the ladies from rough treatment at the hands of some local toughs, Sam is enlisted as their "Guardian," an office that brings responsibility for protecting them---and interestingly, for imposing domestic discipline. Not only that, but these ladies have healthy sex drives and Sam's services in that department will be required as well.But just who are they? The more Sam is around them, the more puzzled he becomes, for they seem to have powers that transcend normal human capabilities. And then there is their dark legacy. They are being pursued by someone or something unearthly. All Sam knows is that the center of the mystery lies in an alpine village high in the Cascade Mountains of Oregon called LaForge.

In Part Two a  young sculptress, Bridget O' Brien, forsakes the high life in New York to settle in Laforge. There she meets Tom McRae, the local sheriff's deputy. Tom is instantly attracted to the beautiful lady and is glad to take her in hand in more ways than one, especially when she disobeys an instruction to stay out of a local off limits area. But romance blooms nonetheless, and Bridget vows to stay. However there are responsibilities attached to young women who choose to adopt LaForge as their home. There is The Rite of the August Moon, an ancient ceremony which must be performed by a young female volunteer. It it a test of courage, and requires ultimate trust, the type of trust one would place in a lover for life. Bridget and Tom must overcome their fears and doubts and go through with The Rite if they are to have a future together.

In Part Three Sam Reilly has tracked the Delphian Sisterhood to LaForge. On the way there he meets Rachael Greene, a beautiful scientist who is searching for her lost sister, last seen in the company of the Delphian Sisters. What they discover is that there is an existential threat to the village of LaForge and its way of life. Dark forces have convened, determined to reignite an old feud and wreak revenge on the village and its inhabitants. It will be up to Sam and Rachael and Tom and Bridget to travel into the heart of a dark cult and confront an ancient evil, one that revels in the use of the whip and the lash. It will require sacrifice and fortitude and a stout heart to rescue Rachael's sister and the Delphians.

The book is several things. It's an erotic spanking novel, a romance and a supernatural thriller. It contains numerous scenes of domestic discipline, quasi-judicial type punishments and erotic spanking together with some rather steamy sex. Fans of erotic spanking coupled with a compelling plot and romantic relationships should like this one.

Guest Author---Nigel McParr

The One Buck sale continues. In the meantime here is a story by a guest author.

Nigel McParr wrote for several spanking publications in the 1980's. He doesn't have a large body of work as far as I know but what he does have is very entertaining. His tone is reminiscent of some of the early pioneers with mostly domestic and school scenes, frequently in an F/F orientation.


A Day in the DormBy Nigel McParr


It was two AM when Kim let herself into the dorm and tiptoed up to the roomshe'd shared with Nancy since they were freshman. She listened for Nancy'smeasured breathing before she flicked on her bed lamp and stripped off her jeansand top. After removing her bra and panties, she took a second to study herselfin the full length mirror on the closet door. It was the girls' singleconcession to vanity in their plain little room.
Her friends - especially Nancy - said she had a great shape. Her breasts werehigh and full, with a woman's fleshy hips and thighs. Her hair was a lightauburn color, and tended to turn red in the sunlight. She had luminous hazeleyes and a wide full mouth with soft faint lips.
She ran her hand lightly over her breast and down her hip, caressing hergenerous curves. She toyed with her nipples, teasing them until they were hardand erect. Turning slowly in the soft light, she decided she was pleased withthe firm outline of her breasts and the taut line of her belly. "I really dohave nice tits," she murmured before stifling a yawn, stretching and gettinginto bed. She was asleep almost instantly.
The next morning she woke with a start and glanced at her alarm clock. Brightsunlight slanted into the small room. She tore out of bed and ran to the shower.She came out in a half-run toweling herself dry. As she hooked her bra shenoticed the small white envelope sticking out beneath her door.
"Migod! What else can go wrong today?"
Picking up the envelope, she could almost sense its contents. Several timesNancy had tried to warn her about the College's strict disciplinary policy andher extracurricular activities. But she hadn't listened. She tore the envelopeopen and pulled out a small note written in a cramped style:
Report to my office this evening at 6 PM.Mrs. KaneDean, Student Nurses
Kim was terrified. She'd never been summoned to Mrs.Kane's office before butshe'd heard the other girls whispering about the leather strap and paddle shekept in her desk. She grabbed a tissue, dabbed at the wetness in her eyes, anddesperately put on her makeup. She got into her student uniform and began tofeel a little better. It was a two-piece outfit consisting of a tailoredlight-blue cotton dress worn under a crisply starched, white pinafore apron. Theapron had wide straps that criss-crossed in the back. Her uniform always madeher feel like a real nurse when she worked the wards.
The stiffly starched pinafore apron enhanced the already generous curve of herfull bustline. Sometimes while bending over to bathe older male patients, she'dfeel a tentative hand groping for her breasts. If no one else was in the room,their fondling didn't upset her. She knew they were harmless, and she foundtheir light touch warm and stimulating. One quiet night on the ward she'd letone old gentleman unbutton her front and slip his hand inside her bra. Nancy hadlaughed hysterically. She said it would probably speed up his recovery.
Somehow she got through her classes that day and met Nancy back at the dorm.They walked together to the Administration building before Nancy hugged her andleft Kim to enter the building alone. Other than the occasional odd clunk andrattle from deep within the old brick building, she didn't hear a sound. Thebuilding seemed to be completely deserted. She went up four flights of stairsand then down a long, dimly lit corridor to Mrs. Kane's office. There was lightleaking from beneath her door. she drew in a breath and knocked softly.
"You may enter."
Kim didn't know it but Nancy hadn't left. She'd followed Kim straight to Mrs.Kane's office. By the time she got there Kim was already in the lioness' den.Holding her breath, she moved as close as she dared to the outer door of Mrs.Kane's office.
The Dean's office was decorated in a rich but somewhat somber decor. The upperhalves of the walls were covered with a heavily embossed deep red wallpaper.Dark wainscoting ran around the lower walls. There were two leather sofas and anupholstered chair. Rows of filing cabinets were ranked along one wall. A heavyfloor-to-ceiling velvet drape several feet wide covered a portion of the wallbehind the Dean's desk. Kim had heard there was a door behind the drape that ledto what the girls called Mrs. Kane's "Inner Sanctum". There, the girls said, iswhere Mrs. Kane kept her awful leather strap and several springy canes for thosegirls who failed to respond to her paddle. There were potted plants everywhere;on the window sill, the floor and the filing cabinets. The only light in theroom came from a small lamp on the polished oak desk. The rest of the room wasshrouded in semi-darkness.
Mrs. Kane didn't look up when Kim came in. She waved her to a chair in front ofher desk while she continued to write. Kim sat down and took the opportunity tostudy this woman more closely. It had been a long time since she'd been in thisoffice.
Dean Kane was a buxom woman with a stiff no-nonsense matronly air about her. Hertailored white uniform was neatly starched and pressed. A black-banded nursingcap was securely pinned to the back of her head. Her olive complexion contrastedsharply with the dazzling white of her uniform. Seeing her up close Kim stillthought she was an attractive woman. She had a smooth face, framed with darkhair and a small almost petulant mouth. Right now it was pursed as she wrote.Kim could see the first subtle streaks of gray starting to run through her hair.She was wearing frameless glasses that made her large blue eyes look deceptivelykind and soft.
She sighed, and set down her pen. Removing her glasses, she slowly got to herfeet - her chair squeaked in relief as she got up. Kim had no idea she was sotall. She seemed to tower over her. She positioned her fingers on the edge ofher desk, and leaned over the desk to Kim. She had a dark husky almost melodiousvoice.
"Let me tell you, Miss, you may be a senior in good academic standing here, butyou are NOT exempt from our rules! I can expel you like that." She snapped herfingers so hard they almost cracked. "Do you understand?..."
The woman's overriding presence washed over Kim, mesmerizing her. She was a bigwoman with wide shoulders, a heavy bosom and fleshy hips. Her trim waistline andthe tight fit of her uniform accentuated the breadth of her hips and everymotion of her pendulous breasts. Her breasts were straining like water-filledballoons at her bodice, while her nipples practically burst through the stifflystarched fabric of her uniform. And she was not wearing a bra. She'd grown toappreciate the naturally full shape of her heavy breasts and the freedom it gaveher. She paid no attention to the jiggling and swaying of her great bosom. Infact she rather liked the impression it gave to her nursing students. To her itwas like a declaration of her supreme womanhood.
"...So what have you to say for yourself?" Mrs. Kane's voice abruptly jerked Kimback to reality.
Unsure of herself, she squirmed deeper into her seat. Her resolution hadvanished. Her courage had simply melted away in the face of this awesome woman.her voice was weak and quavery.
"Mrs. K-Kane,...I-I've been going out too much. But, I've resolved to stay in mydorm and really hit the books...I mean it. I've already started to break offwith the gang." Her eyes filled with tears. The Dean's expression didn't changeas she handed her a tissue. "My poor aunt - she spent most of her life savingsto pay for my schooling. I just can't let that poor woman down. No punishmentwould be too much. Oh, p-l-e-a-s-e give me one more chance."
Mrs. Kane nodded. "Its against my better judgement, but your concern for youraunt and your penitent attitude may have saved you from expulsion. I'm notconvinced you even considered abandoning your friends until this evening, butnevertheless I'm going to give you another chance."
She looked hard at Kim.
"But you must trust my judgement. To remain here you accept the punishment youdeserve. Is that clear?"
Kim nodded.
"That's settled then."
Outside the door, Nancy sucked in her breath. Here it comes, she thought. But atleast she's not being thrown out.
Mrs. Kane pulled out a desk drawer and took out a large leather-covered paddle.Kim's eyes widened when the woman went to one of the sofas and seated herself onthe middle cushion.
"Strip to your bra and panties - and be quick about it."
"I-I've never been spanked before- "
"Mmm, yes. That's exactly the problem. Now strip to your underwear and comehere." The tone of the Dean's voice made Kim feel small, like a little girl. Shetrembled as she slowly removed her uniform, shoes and nylons and crossed theroom to the Dean, standing before her in her underwear. Mrs. Kane smoothed herstarched uniform over her knees and then lowered Kim's panties down to herankles. In one smooth motion she took the shaking girl over her lap, placingKim's plump buttocks into perfect spanking position. She pinned the girl'swrists behind her back.
Kim shivered again - she felt like a trussed pig being readied for slaughter. Asshe lay across Mrs. Kane's lap, the warmth of her thighs and the pressure of herheavy breasts calmed her. For one small moment her fear disappeared.
She didn't know it, but the Dean was simply assessing her bare bottom. As firmand ample as it was, she concluded the girl could easily handle fifty or morehard paddle strokes. But since tonight was to be her initiation, she'd hold itto something less, perhaps forty. Next week, the girl would receive the fullmeasure of her paddle.
As Mrs. Kane raised her paddle, Kim could feel the shift of her heavy breastsand thighs. She braced herself just before the first stroke landed with a cleanhard crack on one creamy buttock. The second stroke landed even harder on theother buttock. She began to squirm and kick as she tried to escape pain she'dnever felt before.
The Dean frowned, there would be none of this nonsense. She gave her severalhard smacks that really made the senior howl. "Settle down. I'm just starting towarm your insolent backside. Any more kicking and I'll really give you somethingto cry about."
Dean Kane had spanked and strapped hundreds of her students. She could wieldboth paddle and strap with complete and unabashed authority. It was a painfulreminder to Kim of what she'd done. The thick leather paddle spanked and spankedher, smacking and cracking on her buttocks as if it were a natural extension ofthe Dean's arm. Each stroke sank deep into Kim's cheeks, jiggling and burningthem. The marks produced by each application of the paddle slowly grew until herbackside was covered with a single glowing scarlet patch.
Kim was doing her best to be silent, but as the paddling continued, the pain gotworse. She simply couldn't hold back her tears. It was not only painful, buthumiliating and frustrating to be spanked like a little girl. She squealed andhowled at the sound and fury of Mrs. Kane's big paddle, but it continued to biteinto her cheeks, increasing their scarlet hue. She twisted her head around tolook at the Dean.
"Ma'am, please. It stings...and...burns. I'm s-sorry. I'll behave. Please let meup.O-o-o-g-h, please won't you stop?"
The Dean smiled quietly to herself. The paddle had never failed her. She washearing what she wanted to hear from her naughty student. The paddle had brokenthrough the girl's tough outer veneer and was working inside now, where itcounted. Tears were an important part of her disciplinary regimen.
Outside in the hallway, Nancy was also in tears. Listening to the steady smacksmack of Mrs. Kane's paddle and poor Kim's cries and moans were unsettling forher. She could hardly contain her emotions. She would try to make it up to herwhen she returned to the dorm. She decided she'd better leave. She had no ideahow Kim would react if she knew she'd been eavesdropping.
The Dean gave Kim five more well-placed and hard strokes before she finally puther paddle down and let the shaking girl slide off her broad lap. She told hershe'd taken her paddling well, but this was only the first one. She'd want tosee her again. There was still more work to be done. Kim listened through hertears, wondering what she'd let herself in for.
As Kim left the office, she heard footsteps at the end of the darkened corridor.Glancing down the dim corridor, she saw a slender figure in a student's uniformdisappearing down the stairs.
"Nancy!"

Kim didn't bother to chase Nancy. After the terrible paddling she'd justreceived from Mrs. Kane, her backside was in no condition to run after her. Shewalked slowly and painfully back to the dorm. When she entered her dorm room,Nancy was laying on her bed, still in her uniform, reading a text book. Her facewas flushed and she was breathing hard. She glanced up at Kim with a questioninglook on her face but Kim didn't push it. She knew Nancy would confess. Right nowall she wanted was relief from her burning buttocks. She rubbed her sore cheeksand looked over at Nancy.
"She spanked me! That horrible woman - Dean Kane - made me feel like a littlegirl. She took me over her lap and spanked me with an awful leather paddle.Damn! It really hurt. I was so humiliated. She treated me like I was in gradeschool."
Kim crossed the room and eased herself down on Nancy's bed. "O-o-o-g-h, ith-u-u-r-ts. Just to sit it hurts."
Nancy took her friend's hand. "It must have been terrible. Did you see thevelvet drape?"
"Yes, but she didn't take me behind it. She wants me to return every week untilSHE decides I've had enough correction. I wasn't sure when I left her office Iwas still going to go through with this. I'm finding out I don't like beingunder someone else's control. But she holds all the cards. I guess I'll stick itout."
She rubbed her backside again. Damn! That hurt. Have you ever been spanked -with a paddle? My butt is still on fire."
Nancy laid her book down, sat up and kissed Kim gently on her cheek. "Dearpathetic Kim, you look so forlorn. I never told you this, but my mother spankedme until the day I left home. When I was really bad, she spanked me with herhairbrush and then I went over Dad's lap for a hand spanking too! Its odd, but Imiss those spankings. Is that strange or what?"
She looked deep into Kim's eyes. Did she understand? She thought she saw aflicker of interest, but she wasn't sure. She wanted to tell her everything -why her mother had been compelled to spank her so often.
"Get the unguent from the medicine chest. I need a good rubdown." Kim got upslowly, and began to undress.
Nancy catapulted out of bed and ran to the bathroom. When she returned, Kim wasdown to her bra and panties. She pulled her panties down to expose her flamingred buttocks. Nancy went weak at the sight of Kim casually exposing hervoluptuous buttocks to her. She'd have traded places with Kim in a minute toreceive a spanking like that. Seeing Kim's reddened backside, flooded her withhigh school memories: summer trysts with her girlfriend up the street, gettingcaught together, the sharp angry sting of her mother's hairbrush. How she'dsavored the afterglow of those spankings. Her hands began to shake as she openedthe tube of cream. She'd never been allowed to touch Kim's buttocks before.
Kim was stretched out face down and naked on her bed. "Rub it in good," shemurmured.
Nancy squeezed a length of the ointment into her hand and began to massage Kim'ssore cheeks and thighs. She was surprised to hear Kim murmur that she liked hertouch. As she kneaded the firm reddened flesh of Kim's buttocks, going as deepas she dared between her inner thighs, she closed her eyes and relived Kim'spaddling. She could recall every stroke, her anguished cries, the smacks of thepaddle, Mrs. Kane's words. For a few moments she was Kim.
Kim twisted her head around. "Nancy, you have a wonderful touch. That feels sogood. You're going to make a great nurse." Half asleep, she said, "Say, have younoticed Mrs. Kane's breasts? They felt like pillows when she spanked me."
Nancy giggled. "Yes. they're like big melons. And she never wears a braunderneath those horribly tight uniforms." She paused. "Kim, there's something Imust tell you. If I don't, I won't be able to forgive myself. I-I was outsideMrs. Kane's door tonight -the whole time. I heard everything. I just couldn'tstay away. I had to be there with you. And since I couldn't go in with you, Istood outside and listened. It was my way of sharing in your pain. Can youforgive me?"
Kim didn't doubt Nancy's concern for her well-being. No, that was pure Nancy.But she was beginning to see that Nancy wasn't kidding about missing herparents' discipline. This girl wanted to be spanked. She twisted her head aroundagain and looked at Nancy. She could feel the first stirrings of her ownmetamorphosis. Her latent dominance was stirring and for the first time she feltits roar.
"I understand your concern, but you eavesdropped on me, you little brat!" Kimrolled over to face her room mate in time to see her room mate blanch. "I'mbeginning to think what you need is a return to an old fashioned regimen ofspankings. I'm not your mother, but I'll bet I can spank that backside of yoursjust as well."
Kim sat up. She was eye-to-eye with Nancy now. but Nancy couldn't maintain Kim'sstare. She held her hands and dropped her eyes to the floor. A pouty look spreadover her face. For a second she looked so adorable, Kim wasn't so sure she couldspank her. At the same time, Nancy's little girl response empowered her, urgingher to go ahead. Kim swung her legs over the bed and patted her bare thighs.
"Come here, miss. You've been a bad girl, listening where you had no business.You're going over your mother's lap."As Nancy shyly approached her, Kim found herself slipping into the role ofNancy's surrogate mother.
"Get out of that uniform, young lady. This will be a bare bottom spanking."
Kim watched Nancy get out of her starched pinafore, dress and slip. When she wasdown to her bra and thin white cotton panties, Kim unhooked her bra and droppedit to the floor. Just like her mother might have done, Kim inserted her handinside the waistband of Nancy's panties and slid them down to her ankles. Shelooked up at the girl just in time to see a deep rosy blush spreading over herface. Kim nodded approvingly.
"After what you did, you should blush. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."With that she gave Nancy a sharp open-handed crack with the palm of her hand.The strength of the spank surprised them both. Kim was clearly enjoying her newrole and Nancy's transformation into such a passive young lady.
She had a young woman's peach-hued complexion, and sharply defined, delicatefeatures. Unlike Kim who was full-busted and voluptuous, Nancy's breasts weresmall and firm with tiny hard pink nipples. She had pitch black hair, largebrown eyes and a pert red mouth. Her waistline was ridiculously small. Herinordinately plump buttocks tapered into slender thighs and long shapely legs.
Kim gave her a maternal frown. "Over my lap, you naughty girl."
Nancy didn't resist Kim as she was taken over her lap. She was barely in placewhen Kim's hand came down in a flash and sank with a loud splat into Nancy'sspringy cheek. She immediately followed that with another good spank. Twobright-red hand prints suddenly appeared on Nancy's alabaster backside. Shebegan to squirm and kick. Kim let her have several more good bare-handed smacks.

"Stop that squirming, this instant!" Kim surprised herself again. "Or I'llreally give you something to cry about."
Kim could feel the power rushing through her as she administered the noisyspanking. She relished the power she held over this slim and attractive girl.Nancy's pitiful protests and her reddening backside fueled her drive to give hera spanking she wouldn't soon forget. The harder she spanked the girl the moreNancy regressed into the little girl state.
"O-o-o-g-h! M-Mother, I'll behave. No m-m-more playing with girls. A-a-a-r-g-h!I-I promise. Please, stop!"
Down the hall, there were three seniors and a lone freshman standing in thehall, listening to Nancy's whining pleas and the sharp crack of Kim's hand. Thefreshman had been trying to pass and was now being held in check by the seniors."I hear Kim really got it from Mrs. Kane tonight-"
"Sounds to me like she's taking it out on poor Nancy."
"Poor Nancy! That little brunette bitch deserves it. She's nothing but a slut."
"She probably tried to get into bed with Kim tonight." They all laughed. Thefreshman wondered about her fate.
"Migod, she's really getting it."
"Speaking of getting it, this little one is overdue." The tall blonde seniorwith her hair in braids looked at the freshman, a short plump blonde. She wentpale and tried to back away.
"Take her into my room," the tall blonde ordered.
The other two seniors grabbed her and escorted her into the blonde's room. Sheslammed the door shut, but the freshman didn't protest - she knew better thanthat. As the three seniors removed her uniform, they made an elaborate ritualout of taking off the freshman's underwear. She blushed scarlet as the twoseniors knelt and slowly worked her panties down over her heavy hips while thetall blonde aggressively fondled and stroked her plump sex and soft innerthighs.
"Unhook her bra."
One of the girls got to her feet and unsnapped the bra. The sheer weight of herbreasts as they were freed pulled the bra straps off her shoulders. The tallblonde who wore her hair in thick braids was obviously the leader. She cuppedthe freshman's breasts and nodded. She was satisfied with their fullness. Likejackals the other two seniors held back and waited. They wanted to take the girlbut they didn't dare touch her without the blonde's permission. Meanwhile thefreshman was forced to stand naked and shivering while the tall blonde probedand examined every inch of and orifice of her body.
She finally nodded. "She'll stay with me tonight. Get the paddle and put her onthe bed."
The two seniors threw the girl on the bed, face down and pinned her legs andarms securely between them while the tall blonde picked up the sorority paddleand approached the bed. With both hands on the paddle, she began to fiercelyspank the freshman's plump cheeks. When she was tired, she gave the paddle toone of the other seniors. All three girls took their turns spanking the girl'sripe buttocks. They did not intend to stop until her backside was close toblistering. They ignored the poor girl's shrieks and screams, spanking her untilshe was reduced to uncontrollable sobbing. She was crying so hard she couldn'tspeak when they finally let her up. Her backside had been paddled to a deepmaroon color. It was welted and striped. When she tried to put on her pantiesthe blonde ordered her restrained again."Hold it! We're not through with you yet. How would you like to get anotherpaddling tomorrow night?"
"N-No! I've had enough," the girl responded between sobs.
"We'll make a deal. You clean our rooms and do our laundry for the rest of thisyear and we'll see that you're not paddled again. Otherwise, its going to bebottoms up every night for the rest of the year."
"A-Alright. I'll do it."
The blonde senior nodded. "Good. You can start tonight with my room. There's oneother detail. When you are performing your maid services, you will this apron,and nothing else!" She held out a tiny white organdy see-through apron.
The freshman shook her head. "No! I won't do it."
"Put her back on the bed again, girls. This time I'll teach her to say yes."
They grabbed and spread-eagled her again on the bed while the blonde senior laidanother twenty-five strokes onto her already scarlet cheeks. When she wasfinished, the freshman's bottom was beginning to blister.
"Now will you do as you're told?" The blonde held out the tiny apron again.
"Yes," she blubbered. "I-I'll wear the a-apron."
"Good." She waved the two seniors out of her room. "That's enough excitement forone night."
The last thing the girls saw as they left their classmate's room was the tallblonde taking the sobbing freshman into her arms and kissing her full on herlips while she fondled the heavy fullness of the younger girl's breasts.
Down the hall Kim and Nancy's room was quiet. Nancy was stretched out on herbed. Kim was sitting beside her. Nancy was looking up at Kim.
"I suppose the whole dorm knows you spanked me. But honestly, Kim, I-"
Kim leaned down and pressed her finger to Nancy's lips. "Hush. Don't say athing. Your mother understood and so do I. I think we're both beginning tounderstand who we really are." She laid her hand over Nancy's and closed hereyes for a second.
Nancy was crying softly. "Kim, From now on-"
"Come to mamma," Kim whispered and put her best friend to her breast. When Nancyfound her hard nipple and began to suck, tiny shivers of delight shot throughher breast. She lifted Nancy's wet face to hers and softly kissed her. The wettaste of her lingered on her lips as she slid into bed alongside her slenderroom mate.

Winners, a 2013 Retrospective, and New for 2014

First item of business. The winners of my part of the Winter Spanks Blog Hop have been contacted and are claiming their prizes right now.


I had so many great commenters that I decided to give away 3 books. Winners were chosen by my nuclear powered flux capacitor random number generator. Congrats and your prizes are on the way as soon as you indicate your preferred format. Hope you really enjoy Pendragon's Lash.

Now let's talk about 2013(and late 2012) . It was the year I really became an indie publisher. DT Publications published 29 books, which are lined up on the right side of this blog. These books are an eclectic mix. All are in the spanking erotica genre and explore various themes and orientations. I won't describe them since you can click on any cover and go straight to Amazon. But no matter what sub genre you like, you'll find something.

Like M/F romance? Try the twin novelettes like The Ladies of Heatherton Hall or Tumalo Bend 1895.
Like F/M? Try the Strict Ladies series or Mrs Hansen's Boarding House or The Mills Governess.
Like M/F--F/M switching roles? Try Tales from a Switch.
Sorority girls your thing? Gwen's Sorority Days.
School stories? The Schoolgirl Collection and A Very Bright Girl.
Did you like 'The Hunger Games?' Then read The Spanking Games.

It's also the year I worked with a publisher, Stormy Night Publications, to write the Sci-Fi/Medieval romance novel Pendragon's Lash.

It's a year that has seen my blog take off, with nearly 1000 hits a day.

So what is 2014 going to bring?

For starters, more publishing of my backlist. First up will be the twin novelettes Willow Wood Estate and Madeline Smythe. These two stories are pure spanking erotica, sexy romps with lots of action, over the knee and otherwise.
Look for a publication date in late January.

Also coming will be:
 a rewritten version of "A Guy at Girl's Poker Night," retitled as Suburban Spanking;
the internet classics The Health Club and Certificate of Correction, again, substantially re-edited;
Volume 4 of the Strict Ladies series featuring all new, never before published stories;
more spanking romance novels, published hopefully with the help of the folks at Stormy Night.