Monday, 26 September 2016

Monday, September 26, 2016 -

The Spanking Digest: Issue 9

a journal of spanking fiction
by LSF Publications
Published: Sep 1, 2016
Words: 25,005
Category: general
Orientation: M/F
Click HERE for further details and purchase options.
The Portrait
by Jon Thorn

Lucy had decided on having a portrait painted almost from the moment she had come into her inheritance. She was the youngest to inherit the title in over three hundred years, and with the title had come the properties - a townhouse on Montpelier Square just off the Brompton Road and a more substantial house in the Suffolk countryside. There had also been a substantial financial legacy, so at the age of twenty-six, Lady Lucinda Westfield was a very rich young woman indeed. As such, it seemed fitting that her portrait should grace the great hall at Westfield Park alongside those of her ancestors, and so she had begun the search for the right artist.

Money was not a problem, so Lucy could afford to be choosy, which was fortunate since there was a strong streak of perfectionism within her character. For Lucy, only the best would be good enough, and it didn't take her long to discover who the best was. In her humble opinion, the only man up to painting Lady Lucinda's portrait was a young artist by the name of Rob Morton. Morton was an up and coming star in the art world. Not much older than Lucy herself, he was already starting to make a name for himself. Lucy had contacted him herself, and he had (albeit reluctantly) agreed to come to the house at Montpelier Square to talk about the proposed commission.

Lucy heard a car pull up outside and glanced out of the window. A rather scruffy, fair-haired young man was extricating his long body from behind the wheel of a tiny little Fiat. Lucy smiled to herself; he certainly had the look of an artist with his unkempt hair and untidy clothes. She went down to the door to let him in.

He was just about to ring the bell, so was rather taken aback when the door opened suddenly before he had the chance to place his finger on the bell push.

Lucy thrust out her hand. "How do you do? Lucinda Westfield."

He recovered his composure quickly. "Hi, Rob Morton." He shook her hand briefly, as though shaking hands was something he was unaccustomed to doing, then followed her through into the house - his eyes taking in the quiet wealth displayed all around him. Lucy led him through into the drawing room.

They both sat, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Lucy spoke.

"Well, welcome," she said brightly. "I'm pleased you could come, this really is so important to me." Her smile was met by what felt like a rather hostile stare. Lucy pressed on. "You see, I'm the youngest Lady Westfield for a very long time, so it seemed rather important to me that I mark that fact by having a portrait done. A rather younger face to hang amongst all the old crusty ones in the great hall at Westfield Park."

Thursday, 22 September 2016

Thursday, September 22, 2016 -

The Alien's Little Girl

a sci-fi ageplay romance
by Rose St. Andrews
Published: Aug 31, 2016
Words: 32,201
Category: ageplay, romance, sci-fi
Orientation: M/F
Click HERE for further details and purchase options.
Chapter One

Demi lay on the bed and sobbed. Her life was in a downward spiral and she saw no hope of fixing it, no light at the end of the tunnel, as her dad used to say. No, if anything, the light in her tunnel was an old fashioned train coming right at her. Frankly, she welcomed the idea: a quick and painless death to end her suffering.

"Dem-me, are you all right?" a familiar voice said behind her.

Snapping up to a sitting position, she stifled her tears, and wiped her face before turning to face him. She managed a small smile. "Tyne, how many times have I told you, it's pronounced 'Demi'!"

"I am sorry, but there are aspects of your human language that still escape me. Again I ask, why are you troubled?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine. I have to be going. Your beds are all made; fresh towels are in the bathroom."

She moved for the door, but he was easily able to block her. They made for quite a pair. She a petite (a hair under five-feet) yet muscular young woman with a pageboy haircut (she liked keeping her black hair super short), and he a Florian. Tyne was part of the delegation from Planet Florian, the newest planet to join the Confederation, and they'd been on Earth for a month now negotiating the terms of the treaty. The Florians were quite the beautiful race: incredibly tall (seven feet was the minimum height), long golden hair, and features that made them look like elves or some other mystical beings. That first day, when they arrived at the diplomatic hotel, Demi had been smitten by Tyne, and been deeply moved by the fact that he treated her (an ordinary maid) like a real person.

Most people didn't, especially her ex-husband.

Tyne knelt down so they were almost face to face and scoldingly wagged his long index finger at her. "Dem-me, do not lie to me. What is troubling you?"

She stood there and hung her head, a tear trickling down her cheek. "The hotel is cutting my hours."

"Cut... hours? Ah, they are reducing your workload. That is not acceptable. Do you not have a high debt and must struggle to get your ends to come together?"

"It's 'make ends meet', Tyne," she said with a weak smile.

He cupped her tiny chin in his large hand. "At least it made you smile. Is there not something to be done for you?"

"Tyne, that's very sweet of you to ask about, but I'll deal with it. I can look for a third job and see if the casino will give me an extension."

"Cas-ino? I thought your debts were with financial institutions."

"Banks, we call them banks, and yes, most of my debt is with them, but my ex also gambled a lot, and left me with the debts at the gambling places."

Tuesday, 20 September 2016

Tuesday, September 20, 2016 -

An English Girl at a Texas High School

three schoolgirl spanking tales
by Paul Jackson
Published: Aug 30, 2016
Words: 22,532
Category: school
Orientation: M/F
Click HERE for further details and purchase options.
An English Girl at a Texas High School

Joanne Brett and her family moved to the state of Texas two years ago. Her father had been offered a lucrative long term contract with an oil company, and the Brett's had since settled into an expansive, beautiful new home in Fort Worth. Joanne, an affable, vivacious, yet quaintly English teenager, had adapted well to life in Texas, and had successfully settled into high school, both academically and socially. Her imperturbable charm and fizzy personality that blended well with her Englishness ensured that she made lots of friends, with many students doing their best to befriend the sixteen-year-old English girl. If there was a beach party, student dance, or a drive out, you could bet Joanne would be invited along.

Joanne couldn't get enough of Texas culture and its rich history. In Fort Worth she often spent her time visiting the array of museums, especially the wonderful modern art museum. By contrast, she adored the yearly World Rodeo Finals and spending great times with her high school friends at Sundance Square and its pulsating plaza.

School life was very different from that of her English comprehensive school in Surrey. Firstly, there was no compulsory school uniform, which she felt gave her more freedom, allowed her to express herself, and made her feel like an adult. There was dress code, but in the main, students wore what they liked. Although intrinsically modest, Joanne was well aware of her attractiveness.

The pleated skirts, blazers and ties from her English school did nothing for her superb figure and physical charms, whereas tight pants, short skirts and skimpy tops did much to show off her teenage appeal. And there was little doubting that designer clothing and casual wear helped to enhance her desirability with the guys on campus, who found her angelic, clear features and mounds of thick chestnut hair, irresistible.

Academically, the American high school stretched her more and had a wider curriculum base, and the extra-curricular activities were varied and exciting. But of equal importance, although there were school rules, there was a feeling of freedom and camaraderie not experienced at her comprehensive in England.

So the two years she had so far spent at Dean Valley High, which would soon see her turn eighteen, had been the happiest of her school life. However, there was one issue that both she and her parents had questioned, that was vaguely mentioned in the student handbook. It was the issue of discipline. It briefly mentioned that a student could make a choice between suspension and something called 'swats.' The handbook did not explain this further and nothing referring to 'swats' was discussed when her parents were interviewed for Joanne's prospective enrolment.

Joanne was not exactly sure what 'swats' meant, until on her acceptance, she and her parents were asked to sign a consent form. Of course Joanne was horrified to learn that 'swats' meant reporting to an Assistant Principal (AP), or indeed the Principal, to be spanked with a wooden paddle.

Monday, 19 September 2016

Monday, September 19, 2016 -

Ginny's Unpaid Parking Tickets

a mother spanks daughter story
by Louis Woodley
Published: Aug 30, 2016
Words: 22,532
Category: teen
Orientation: F/F
Click HERE for further details and purchase options.
School teacher Carol Wallace pulled into her driveway on the Thursday after Thanksgiving; only eleven more days of school and then it would be Christmas break. She was in a good mood as she went to the mailbox; a few minutes later, furious would be a more accurate description.

In the mail was an envelope addressed to her daughter Ginny from her college registrar's office. She opened it, assuming it was about Ginny's next semester class schedule. It was about class registration, but it certainly wasn't the message Carol expected to see. It said that they would not be able to process Ginny's registration unless she had a zero balance with the college. And right now she owed $165 in unpaid parking tickets; so nothing would happen with her registration until they'd been paid in full. $165! Surely there had to be some kind of mistake? It was late in the day but Carol intended to find someone at the college who could help her get to the bottom of this.


Meanwhile, a little over two hours away, Ginny was blissfully unaware of her impending demise. Her college campus was very spread out and the nearest town was a couple of miles away. Freshmen weren't allowed to have cars on campus, so you had to walk, wait on the bus, or cultivate a friendship with an upperclassman if you wanted to get off campus. So last year Ginny had felt trapped on campus, but now that she was a sophomore and had her car with her, the freedom to just run to Wal-Mart was exhilarating.

But with driving also comes responsibility. Unfortunately, she'd been lackadaisical about the annoying tickets. She hadn't thought they were fair since there weren't enough student parking spaces. She'd meant to fight them but had stuck them in her glove box and forgotten about them. She didn't know it yet, but this carelessness was about to make her next trip home a very unpleasant one.


Back at the Wallace household, Carol had bounced between the Registrar, Campus Security, and the Bursar's office. Now she had a clearer picture of what had happened. Several of Ginny's tickets had been minor citations for parking in a faculty lot on the other side of campus from her dorm. Given when they were issued, Carol assumed Ginny had driven to class and hadn't been able to find a spot in the student lot. However, there was that late night ticket for illegal parking on fraternity row. But what absolutely could not be explained was why Ginny hadn't taken care of them. Either she had suffered a traumatic brain injury affecting her memory or she'd been lax in handling her responsibilities. Carol was pretty sure which the most likely explanation was.

As the tickets remained unpaid penalties had been added, increasing the fines. They would continue to escalate until paid, so Carol opened her purse and paid the $165 over the phone to staunch the financial bleeding.

Saturday, 17 September 2016

Saturday, September 17, 2016 -

Thrashings in Paradise

by Stanlegh Meresith
Published: Aug 29, 2016
Words: 25,827
Category: lesbian, femdom
Orientation: F/F
Click HERE for further details and purchase options.
1. The Assignment

There is a valley in the heart of Italy which the locals call 'Paradise'. On three sides, the snow-capped mountains rise majestic, shining in the winter sun, their foothills clothed with beech woods as silent as a soul at peace. Wild flowers bloom across the fertile fields in spring, and streams of cool, clear water flow on into the long, hot summer, feeding the sunflowers, olive groves and orchards that blossom there in abundance. The harvests are plentiful, the people content and time seems infinite.

At the end of the road that leads up the valley stands an ancient convent whose nuns, for five hundred years, have served Christ with the compassion only women can feel. It is to this convent that the subject of our story made her journey, one summer not long ago.


Jessica had just made a cup of tea and settled down with her laptop when the opening bars of Beethoven's Fifth tinkled from her phone on the coffee table.

The screen read 'Peter'.

"Ah!" she murmured brightly, clicking to answer. She was glad to hear from Peter: it usually meant a chance to earn some extra cash and have an adventure into the bargain. He was the editor of the Spanking Gazette, a niche publication to which Jessica had contributed various pieces in recent years.


"Jessica! How are you?"

"Good, thanks. And you?"

"Can't complain. In fact, we've had some rather important news. A rich sponsor has offered to provide funding for the Gazette."



"Who is it?"

"I can't divulge that information, I'm afraid - even to you, Jessica. Suffice to say he's very big in fast cars."

"Oh! So it's not true what they say then?"

"Very funny," he said, sarcastically. "Anyway... what do you know about Dominican nuns?"

Jessica smiled and took a deep breath. "Well, Peter... did you know that the Dominicans were founded as the Order of Preachers by Saint Dominic in 1206? Yes, and Dominican nuns, unlike their brother friars, don't travel or preach; they live a contemplative life following the four pillars of Dominican life, which are..."

Peter cut in with a whistle of appreciation. "Wow! You really know your Dominicans, don't you?"

"Well, I should," said Jessica. "I spent five years at one of their boarding schools. 'Laudare, Benedicere, Predicare'. And not forgetting, 'Piegarsi'."


"The motto of the Order: to praise, to bless, to preach."

"And the last bit?"

"Piegarsi - to bend over. That wasn't officially part of the motto, but it might as well have been at St Catherine's Academy for Girls, Haywards Heath. They put me off religion for life."

"Gosh! Why don't I know about this?"

"You never asked."

"More to the point, why haven't you written about it for the Gazette?"

"I have!" said Jessica. "In my stories and those pretend letters. It wasn't all imagination, you know."