LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

"Call me silly names would you?" Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack! "Take your hand away!" Smack, Smack! "I said take your hand away!" Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack!

"Now, what was it you said about me?" Smack, Smack! "Louder!" Smack, Smack!

Wishful thinking, Bill, wishful thinking: you who has never had the privilege of chastising a female bottom in your life. If only!

All right, I admit. I was fed up, angry, hurt, brassed off, pissed off! Sorry about the language but now you know how I was feeling. I don't usually swear, being too much the gentleman or so I like to think, and I tell you my gentlemanly tolerances had just been stretched to the limit. Well I ask you. How would any man feel who had just been called a conceited male chauvinist pig on his own boat by a woman who I doubt even knew which part of the boat was the bow, which was the stern, what was port, what was starboard - in other words didn't know her arse from her elbow? All right, no more swearing, I promise. That trollop needs a bloomin' good hiding I repeated to myself. (I had told her so just before she swept into the fo'c'sle slamming the cabin door on me). For a moment I toyed again with the vision of her across my knees and me whaling into her bare backside with a slipper. It helped to calm me down. Dream on: she was a solicitor and would have had me in court if I so much as dared lay a finger on her. Let me explain. I will go back to the beginning. Bear with me.

Call me a carpenter by trade, or better still furniture restorer. My father had struggled to put me through a good education hoping I would turn into something special. What a waste! I hated boarding school life, not even my best friend would have called me a scholar and I got away from the place and from home at the first opportunity. I did have one saving grace however. I had always been good with my hands and badly wanted to work with them so I trained as a carpenter and became fascinated working with different types of wood, and from these early stages began taking on work renovating antique furniture. I settled in a little town on the south coast, a prosperous part of England where lots of homes in the vicinity just seemed to have that old piece of furniture that needed touching up, so I opened a little workshop and began to make a reasonably comfortable living. Oh and I drifted in and out of marriage and by the time I'm speaking of I'm getting uncomfortably close to forty, no family and becoming resigned to life as a single gent.

Not quite true to say I was single, for I had a beautiful lady as the love of my life.