LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

The Maiden & the Goddess
Outside, the waves crashed against the rocks. Inside, Molly swept with a broom missing half its bristles. But her protector was a stubborn man and stingy, and wouldn't buy another. She knew better than to ask and get his dander up. She was safest when the household ran so smoothly that he nearly forgot that she was there. Oh oh. There he was now.

The old man knelt in the corner and then rose. The look on his face wasn't very nice. "Dirt," he said.

"Is not," Molly knew better than to argue, but pride in her work got in the way of her self-interest. "The floor is clean enough to eat off, sir. You know that. You're just looking for excuses so you can punish me."

"And now you're talking back," he said. "Slovenly workmanship and now back-talk. You're going to get it good."

"You'll rape me if you punish me, sir. You know you will. This is all just an excuse." She took a step backward and bumped into the bed. Of course he waited to confront her until she was cleaning his bedroom. How damn convenient.

"Not my fault," her protector said. "I'm a man, not a saint. Ain't a man alive wouldn't do the same when you get so slutty and squirmy and needy like you do."

"Just don't spank me," Molly said. "Then it won't happen and you won't be tempted."

"It's my job to keep good order and discipline in the household," he said. "So when you're naughty, you must be spanked. What happens after that is your fault, not mine. Now take your dress off."

"You don't need my dress off to spank me."

"Maybe not. But I like to pinch your titties and hear you squeal. Now get it off."

Molly took off her dress. "So help me one of these days I'm going to tell," she said.

"Be my guest," her protector said. "Because you'll only be telling on yourself. Any girl who gets juicy when she's punished is a natural slut. They'll sentence you to a penal brothel and you'll be covered by hundreds of men, 'stead of just me."

Molly shivered in the cold. The sea crashed against the rocks. Molly's breasts began to stiffen, and not just from the cold. She hated the guilty pleasure that was to come, but her traitorous body did not. She knelt and bent over the bed. Heard the snick as her protector drew off his thick wide leather belt. She tried to stay out of it. Think of something else. But pain brought lust as it always did, and when she was in full heat, he turned her over and did what men do. Then he climbed off the bed and dressed.

"Clean yourself up you're a mess," he said. "And make the bed." He walked out and left her lying there. The front door slammed. He had gone to the tavern. Molly lay there covered in sweat and drenched with hatred and self-loathing. The waves splashed up against the rocks.