LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Off the Beaten Track
Diana sat contentedly at the kitchen table, enjoying the relaxing feeling of warmth that seeped through her body following a bout of riotous lovemaking. And while her sated partner lay sleeping upstairs, Diana sipped from a cup of coffee long since grown cold as she cast her mind back to the day she found this remote place. She had literally stumbled upon it by accident one afternoon. On her way to see a friend in Buxton, she had a sudden impulse to detour along the scenic roads up and down the undulating hills. She drove through numerous little villages, past farms and grazing pastures and arrived eventually at a small hamlet consisting of a row of cottages. At the end of the row was a pub, 'The Green Man', its namesake staring out from the ancient hand painted sign, features blurring into leaves peering outward from behind a mottled screen of vines and leaves. She pulled up, smiling to herself; how reassuringly British to find a pub hidden away in this rural backwater. It did look inviting though, with its white walls sheathed by the thick vines of an ancient wisteria, sunshine yellow paintwork on the windows and door, and a small well manicured beer garden round the side, gaily decked with green wrought-iron tables, big shady green parasols and cushioned chairs. A stocky dark-haired man sauntered out from the beer garden. He carried a tray on which stood a lone empty glass. Glancing in her direction he grinned and gave a friendly wave. She waved back, then drove away, resisting the temptation to pop in for a long cool drink.

Continuing on the road past the pub she noticed a For Sale sign in the hedgerow, with an arrow pointing further ahead. Nonchalantly curious, she carried on the road for a mile or so, driving through a canopy of trees, their branches entwined to form an arch above the single track road. At the point the road became rough shale and began its ascent, she could see the house in the distance, perched in a fold of the hill. Greystones. It welcomed her from its elevated position, mullioned windows winking in the sunlight, and solid blocks of grey stone sparkling as they caught the light.

She drove up to the house. The For Sale sign hanging over the garden wall had another sign slapped across it saying Vacant Possession. It wasn't as though she was contemplating buying a house, never mind one in the middle of nowhere - but there was something about this place that called to her. There would be no harm in having a closer look. So, with mounting excitement, she paused in front of a pair of heavy metal wrought-iron gates. They were beautifully sculpted featuring forged scrolls and delicate leaves. Jumping out of the car, she unfastened the catch and pushed the gates open. The expanse of drive beyond beckoned. She walked up the garden path. Whoever had lived here before had maintained the garden well.