LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Sergeant Cole Harding first spotted her sitting in a straight-backed chair in the corner of the police station. He couldn't see her face. She stared down towards the delicate hands clenched in her lap and long, thick caramel strands of hair concealed her features. It was the way she swung her plimsoled feet backwards and forwards in clear agitation that made him want to smile. Despite her subdued posture, there was attitude in her demeanour. He would lay money on there being a pout upon her lips too.

"Hey Mike," he called to the front desk officer. "Who's the kid in the corner?"

Mike shook his head wearily. "Shoplifter," he sighed. "Brought in a couple of hours ago by the store owner. No charges being pressed but we can't release her until she tells us who she is, so we can track down the parents."

"She's not talking?"

"Hasn't said a word since she got here."

Cole watched as her little jean-clad legs kept swinging. Had she been taller, her feet would have scuffed the ground with each swing but she was so tiny they cleared the floor by a good couple of inches.

"What did she steal?" Cole asked.

"A comb and a bar of chocolate."

Cole's mouth twisted with wry amusement. "Hardly grand larceny. Nothing a good spanking wouldn't sort out."

Mike nodded. "As un-PC as it is, I agree with you - which is probably why the little madam won't give us her name. I dare say her parents might think a smacked bottom is in order."

"I'll have a word with her," Cole decided.

"Aren't you finished for the day?"

Cole shrugged. "Yup but I've got nothing to rush home for."

Mike frowned. "You've been divorced over a year now, mate. It's time you started dating again."

"I'm enjoying my freedom," Cole announced, but in truth he had yet to meet a woman who interested him enough to want to get back in the dating game. He had very specific kinks and desires. His brief marriage had been an attempt to conform to the norm of society but it had proved a disaster. Krista had been as beautiful and vivacious as she was independent. She had rapidly grown to resent his attempts to nurture and protect her, whilst Cole had been left feeling frustrated and surplus to requirements. Within a year of taking their vows they had parted ways amicably but with a shared sense of relief that it was over.

He walked across the small station house, stopping in front of the little girl, far enough away so that she didn't kick him as she swung her feet, but close enough for his large black shoes to intrude upon her downcast vision. For endless seconds her head remained stubbornly bent as she attempted to ignore his presence. Cole folded his arms and waited.

Daisy walked to work every day, always taking the exact same route out of habit. But one Monday, she did things differently. Noticing a big white shaggy dog on the opposite side of the road, she couldn't resist crossing over to stroke it. But as soon as she reached it, the dog barked joyfully, wagged his tail and bounded away, pausing every few paces to turn and look at her, making sure she was following.

"You want to play, boy?"

The dog barked again, his tail thumping energetically from side to side, his head cocked expectantly. Daisy grinned and hurried after him, but though she ran as fast as her little legs would carry her, she never quite managed to catch up with him. The dog clearly thought this was great fun and he hurtled along at a furious pace, then turned the corner and disappeared from view. Daisy scampered after him. She reached the end of the road and then made a left turn into a little side street.

There was no sign of the dog. A loveable but fickle beast, he had lost interest in his new playmate when his nose picked up the delicious aroma of fried bacon emanating from an alleyway nearby.

"Hey! Where are you?" The side street was empty save for a few parked cars and a woman pushing a baby buggy. "Here boy," called Daisy, scanning the shop doorways, wondering where he had got to. Sighing, she was about to head back the way she had come when a brightly coloured green and gold awning caught her eye, and below the awning was a tall display stand. Around the borders of the stand were colourful pictures of teddy bears, balloons and rag dolls, and the lettering in the centre read: Tennant's Toy Store - Now Open! All visitors welcome.

"Oh, wow!" If there was one thing Daisy loved, it was toys. She headed towards the shop and peered in through the window. She was greeted by games and bricks, dolls and bears, roller skates, kites, craft kits, and all manner of cuddly toys. "Awesome," she breathed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. She had to go look inside. She just had to.

So imagine her disappointment when she tried the door and found it locked. Pouting adorably, she peeped through the letterbox, hoping to see a member of staff who would open up and let her in.

"Well hello, little one," said a voice from behind her.

Whirling round, she looked up into a pair of inquisitive and intelligent deep brown eyes. A man smiled down at her. She smiled back. "Hello. I was just ... looking..."

"Through the letterbox. Yes. I saw you." The man grinned. "I was just about to open up. Want to see inside?"

"Hell yeah! That would be great," enthused Daisy.

The man produced a key from his pocket. "Your wish is my command, little princess." He inserted the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.

Destiny, that predetermined, usually inevitable or irresistible, course of events, which changes the path you travel. Has it happened to you? If you had asked that question of Chris Chambers or Samantha Fremont on that cold crisp late September morning, the answer probably would have been something like, we make our own destiny. On that day, however, destiny took a hand and this is the story of how nature stepped in on a snowy road in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

---oOo---
Chapter One
Christopher Matthew Chambers grew up in upstate New York, along with a brother and one sister. His family was wealthy, the kind of wealth that was passed on down through the generations. He attended the best prep schools and graduated from Princeton University and the Wharton School of Business. His manners were impeccable and his charm well known to all the mothers in his parents' social set. He was always at the top of every invitation list and was the most fantasized husband of many of the daughters of his parents' friends.

With his brains and degrees, Matthew Chambers always imagined his son Christopher joining him in the family business. Matthew had taken over the business from his father, and he assumed his oldest son would do the same. His father had died at his desk, something Matthew didn't want for himself or his wife, Nancy. He planned on retiring and enjoying his later years. His marriage was one of those rare relationships in that he actually loved Nancy and enjoyed spending time with her, even after forty years of marriage. He wanted them to be able to travel the world together and enjoy the fruits of their labors. He thought Chris would come in and take over after graduating from Wharton. He was mistaken. Chris wanted nothing of the sort. It shouldn't have come as a complete shock to Matthew as Chris had been telling him for years that wasn't his plan, but Matthew refused to believe that he wouldn't change his mind once he had graduated from business school.

Chris realized how lucky he was and appreciated the opportunities but sitting in some stuffy office building, amassing another fortune to add to the already amassed fortunes of his family didn't fit into his life plan. He felt life should be lived, and he was going to enjoy all the time given to him. He knew his brother, Paul, was more suited to that corporate lifestyle than he and this gave Paul his chance to shine. After graduation from Wharton, he packed up and said good-bye to the East Coast. It was not where he wanted to spend the rest of his life. He hated leaving his family, but that life was much too steeped in protocol and the expectations of someone with his name and credentials. He wanted to strike out on his own. Thanks to a small trust fund he came into at twenty-one, he could do just that.

Summer Lovin'
Bram stood on the back porch of his beach front bungalow and took in the lovely view.

Point Pleasant Beach was crowded, true, a bit noisy sometimes, but the lush bum barely contained by a bright red bikini was worth it all.

It was Beth, the girl from the bungalow next to his. She'd caught his eye the day he'd arrived. He moaned out loud his disappointment. At 45, he was way too old for such a beautiful young woman.

It had been four years since his divorce, three since he had moved to New York City from London to teach at the school for the United Nations, five since his frustrated member had had the chance to engage in any mutually satisfying activities. It was 1973 and he was spending the summer in an ocean front cottage, and his neighbor, who was at least old enough to be living by herself for the summer was wagging her barely covered bottom to the music. It was The Rolling Stones, one of his favorite groups. Mick Jagger was complaining about a lack of satisfaction... he knew just how he felt!

He moved outside into the screened porch, taking his beer with him. Leaning into the corner of the railing, he watched all the hot young bodies move to the music.

Suddenly she was there, tugging on his hand, trying to encourage him to come and dance with them.

"OH no, no, I don't dance," he said.

"Sure you do, come on Bram," she answered. Her eyes sparkled, and she continued to clap and dance even as she enticed him to join her.

"What the hell," he said to himself. "I can't look like a total idiot, now can I?" Setting his beer bottle on a small table, he joined the rollicking group on the sand. That is, until she tried to get him away from the fringes of the group. There she was, hands in the air, bottom moving to the music, those beautiful eyes looking back at him over her right shoulder. Bram did the only thing he could think of which was to put his hands on her hips, drawing her back until she rested fully against him, wrapping his arms around her naked belly to hold her in place. She was not quite as tall as he, but his erection was nestling between her cheeks. She leaned back against him.

---oOo---
Beth shivered as her hunky neighbor pulled her into his embrace. It had been love, no... cross that out, lust at first sight, for her at least. She had a feeling that either he thought her too young, or himself too old.

"I, aaah, don't particularly want to go out there right this moment," he said softly against her ear.

Be brazen, she thought to herself. If that was what she needed to be to attract him, she could be.

A Paddling in the Everglades
by Magdalena Barr
Carla was shocked when she tried to enter Edward's study. She could barely open the door and had to set the stack of books down on a side table so she could maneuver the assortment of boxes blocking her entry. She did not hesitate to examine their contents. They were not sealed and seemed to be from a top of the line outfitter. She sighed deeply; this must be preparation for Edward's next adventure into the wilderness. A quick glance at the pile of books on his desk informed her of their next destination. Birds of the Florida Everglades, Canoeing Adventures in the Everglades, Dangerous Wildlife of the Florida Everglades.

Her heart thumped at that last title. Every few months this occurred; Edward would read an article or view a documentary on the travel channel and off they would go to explore, usually in their luxury Recreational Vehicle. This time they would fly to their destination. Carla wondered if Edward might ship all these boxes of provisions and camping equipment. She did not see a canoe, thank goodness. But she worried he had ordered one.

Carla stood there in their Fifth Avenue penthouse suite with a stunning view of New York City and took a deep breath. She loved Edward; he was generous and kind. They enjoyed a deeply satisfying personal relationship, but sometimes he would pursue an inspiration beyond the point of safety and into the realm of dangerous. And he always wanted her company.

There were alligators in the Everglades and exotic water snakes people purchased from smugglers and then discarded once the creatures grew beyond a manageable size. Each year some foolish innocent who has no clue regarding the dangers of this wild place loses a leg and sometimes their life because they think the "water of grass" is a Disney Park petting zoo. A canoe trip through these waters was not like a 3-mile hike through a state park of hemlock trees carrying a picnic lunch. Since Edward never mentioned canoeing, it was unlikely he had experience. Carla set aside her current task and settled in with the stack of brochures to study.

By the time Edward entered the study, Carla had discarded - actually shredded - all the brochures that offered only a map and a canoe rental and saved only those that offered a guide who would sit in the stern and navigate the canoe. Armed with the right literature, she was feeling a sense of control over the situation.

"My dear, I see you have discovered my little secret," Edward said with a serene smile. "I hope you are excited," he said. "I selected an excursion so we have the maximum amount of privacy, after all, we do not want another person intruding. Now, let me see the stack," he said as he extended his hand.

"This is the one you want, right?" Carla said quietly.

Karen
Kimberley Kennedy, receptionist for the unique Clarkstown establishment, the Spank Shop, glared at the Excel spreadsheet on her computer monitor and frowned.

How could this have happened? Somehow two people had been booked for exactly the same time on the same day. The stunningly attractive, blonde, adolescent receptionist prided herself on her bookwork and this was very unlike her.

If she could not work this out and reschedule someone, then the two clients who had been inadvertently booked at the same time would not be only ones getting their bottoms warmed by the shop's elegant and competent proprietress, Andrea Mahoney.

A soft sob came from one of the corners of the room and Kimberley looked up. An eighteen-year-old girl with short brown hair, wearing a yellow apron that was open in the back, stood in the corner, hands on head, sporting the unmistakable evidence of a sound spanking on her plump bottom. "It won't be long, Pammy," Kimberley told the girl kindly, "and Penny and Paul will soon be joining you in the corners."

The girl in the corner was one of the Harper triplets. Unfortunately for Pam, Andrea had chosen to spank her first. Sister Penelope was over Andrea's knee as they spoke, having her own situpon spanked to a scorching lobster red by the experienced disciplinarian. The third triplet, Paul, was in a different room being attended to by Gabrielle Kennedy, Kimberley's mother.

The Clarkstown matron was a part time employee and Kimberley would be willing to bet that the young man was probably wishing he had never met Aunty Gabrielle, as she was now spanking fire into every part of his bottom using a stout rectangular oak hairbrush, which had in fact been supplied by the children's mother.

If Kimberley was quiet and listened hard she could hear both of them being chastised. There was the crack of leather meeting tender buttock flesh from Andrea's parlour and Kimberley winced as Penny wailed in reply. Andrea was using the leather sole of a broad, supple bedroom slipper to punish the girl's derriere and Kimberley knew from painful experience just how much that stung.

From the other room came the sound of a flat, heavy hairbrush striking an unprotected male backside and answering howls from Paul. Kimberley gave a low whistle, her mother was really roasting Paul. Plenty of trips over that same maternal lap had taught Kimberley a healthy respect for the strength of her mother's arm and her thoroughness when she had a brush in hand. With effort, Kimberley shut her ears to the noises emanating from the rooms and the accompanying mental images of glowing red bottoms writhing as slipper and hairbrush heated them to furnace-like temperatures.

"How could you have been so stupid, Kimberley Susan?" the girl asked herself, once again examining her spreadsheet. She had not even made the bookings on a day when her mother was working - if she had there would not be a problem.

Spankin' Cousins
"Ashley! David! I'm ashamed of both of you! You're cousins, for crying out loud! What's with all the yelling and bickering at each other? You used to be best friends when you were kids and now you can't spend one day in the same house without fighting like cats and dogs. What's gotten into you?"

The two stood side-by-side in the living room of Ashley's house to receive a well-deserved reprimand. Her Dad was tired and irritable from overwork. And this was the third time in just over an hour he had found it necessary act as referee.

A shake of the head. "Sorry Dad, but it was his fault."

An embarrassed shrug. "I don't know, Uncle Robert. But she's the one who..."

"Enough! The arguing and blame game stops now! You were both at fault.

A long pause ensued while Ashley's dad considered the situation. Last time, he had told them to knock it off 'or else'. Now it was time for the 'or else'.

"Ashley, go out to the yard and bring me a willow switch. And be quick about it!"

Two pairs of eyes opened wide and Ashley's jaw dropped.

"Dad!" Ashley cried in anguish. "You can't mean it..."

But the look on his face told her he was deadly serious. Ashley's face flushed red as she walked toward the back door. She had hoped the whippings were over. It had been nearly four months since the last time. Ashley had been trying for a long time to convince her Dad that she was too old to be switched like a naughty child. So far, all it had gotten her was a change in method. Her Dad no longer held her over his lap to spank her. Now, she was required to stand, bend over, and stay in position... with extra strokes if she failed to do so. Sometimes she even had to count them.

Ashley knew what kind of switch her Dad wanted: a relatively small thin one that would allow him to vigorously apply a large number of strokes to produce fiery, itching welts without doing serious damage. She quickly searched the willow tree to find a switch that would meet her Dad's size requirements, but just barely. She stripped the leaves from it as she hurried back inside. The previous time, she had dragged her feet in protest and she clearly remembered the sting of the extra strokes she received for being too slow.

David stood awkwardly, regretting the quarrel with his cousin, and not looking at his uncle as they waited for Ashley to return with the switch. She entered the room with her head down, fighting tears. It was bad enough that she was going to be switched, but now her cousin knew that, at her age, she still received whippings from her Dad. David would tell everyone and she would be a laughing stock.

Spanked at School, Spanked at Home
Anna Benson had taught third grade for three years and never once had she been called down to the Principal's office - at least not because she was in trouble! Today however, she had received a note in her box from Mr. Stalks asking that she be in his office at four thirty sharp.

All day she had worried about the summons but had been too embarrassed to say anything to any of her colleagues, as she wasn't sure why she was being called in. It was better to say nothing until it was all over.

At the appointed time, Anna walked into the office and noticed it looked deserted except for a light in Mr. Stalks' office. So gathering every nerve she had left after a day with nine-year-olds, she knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Stepping into his office, she saw him sitting behind his desk writing something on his computer. "Mr. Stalks, you wanted to see me?" Anna asked, strangely nervous.

"Miss Benson." He nodded as he looked at the clock overhead. "Right on time. Good virtue to have, young lady. Close the door please and have a seat."

Anna did as she was asked although she'd rather have left the door open. She didn't know Mr. Stalks very well even though she'd worked for the man for several years now. But he was her boss and she felt she needed to do as he asked.

With the door securely closed, Anna walked over to the seat in front of Mr. Stalk's desk and sat down. Folding her hands in her lap she looked up at Mr. Stalks and waited for him to acknowledge the reason as to why she was there.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Stalks clasped his hands as he leaned slightly forward across his desk. "It's late so I won't beat about the bush. I'm sure you're ready to get home just as I am."

"Yes Sir," Anna replied almost breaking out in a sweat. It was beginning to sound extremely serious.

"For the past month I've had several unhappy parents from your classroom come in to tell me you have not been keeping up with grading, in your class. And when they come to talk to you about it... well... you blow them off."

Anna's face flushed a bright red. She was a procrastinator that was for sure. She was behind on grading papers and that meant her grades weren't on the computer for parents to check. Her third grade team had declared new grades would be added every three weeks. Ha! She was lucky if she got them on before progress report time.

"I guess I'm a little behind on getting papers graded, Mr. Stalks. I can assure you though that I don't blow parents off when they come to talk with me," Anna replied trying to defend her honor.

The Nanny
I was caught totally off-guard when, returning home early from a business trip, I walked into my bedroom and saw my wife seated on the bed with our Swiss 'au pair' draped bare-assed over her lap. The hair brush in Mollie's hand hovered threateningly over her head. By the redness of Brigitta's derriere it was obvious that the brush had already been used as more than a threat. Mollie, never at a loss for words, paused only a second before explaining, "I caught the lass smacking the kids again, or at least one of them, and decided it was time to give her a taste of her own medicine. Jon, my elbow is really killing me today - would you mind taking over?"

Too dumbfounded to object, I allowed a docile but wide-eyed Brigitta to be bent over my knee, and then administered a few half-hearted swats to her backside. When Mollie exhorted me to exhibit greater vigor, I reluctantly complied, causing Brigitta to cry out in pain and squirm within my grasp. Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly at that) I found myself becoming noticeably aroused, as her hip wriggled against my hardening cock. Mollie announced that it was enough, and sent the whimpering girl to her room.

I stood, just shaking my head wonderingly at my wife, before at last blurting out, "I can't believe what just happened here. What the hell is going on?"

"For crissakes, Jon, loosen up. You're too damned tight. The little 'madchen' just needed some discipline, and we gave it to her. What's the problem?"

"Don't take me for a fool, Mollie. There was more than 'discipline' underway when I walked in this room - don't even try to convince me otherwise."

"Meaning what?"

"Give it up, Mollie. You didn't expect me until tomorrow - and this was some kinky foreplay leading to a night of who-knows-what in our bed ... Oh Jeezus! - you've already done it, haven't you? Last night? Or the night before? Oh, Gawd, how long has this been going on ... No - don't tell me. I don't even want to think about it."

I slumped onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. Mollie stood in front of me, kissed my head, and massaged my shoulders.

"I never meant to hurt you, Jonny, really..."

"But why, Mollie, why..."

Silence reigned for an eternal minute or so. My mind raced. Of course, it was all so obvious. The sexual part of our relationship had cooled significantly over the past several years. I had supposed it was having the kids, or Mollie being bored silly with life from staying home through those years. But then with the kids getting older, and her returning to work, when things should have bounced back to normal, there was ... nothing.

Floresville, South Texas, 1888.

Cash Alexander tethered his horse on the coral fence and walked up to the Rosetta Ranch house with quiet, self-assured ease. A giant of a man at 6ft 4, his stealthy approach belied his muscled bulk. Dark wavy hair was brushed back under his Stetson and intelligent grey eyes narrowed as he heard angry words carried on the warm Texas breeze.

"Pack up your stuff, Rowdy - and get off my ranch. You're fired."

"You can't fire me, little gal. Your daddy hired me over ten years ago. I put blood, sweat and tears into this place and you ain't kicking me out just because you're too prickly to enjoy a real man's touch."

Cash watched in fascination as the petite blonde girl on the porch squared her shoulders and stood up to the tall angry cowboy in front of her without an ounce of hesitation.

"Daddy isn't here any more," she snapped, and for just a second there was sadness in her azure glare. "The Rosetta belongs to me now and nothing and no one is gonna stop me running it my way. Not Cavan Macall and certainly not you, Rowdy Briggs. And I choose not to have you pawing me like a piece of meat any time you see fit. I want you off my property now!"

Rowdy, a tall lean cowboy with scruffy brown hair and stained teeth, spat onto the wooden floor in defiance. "You need a foreman around this place," he sneered. "You need me. You think any of the hands will seriously listen to your orders? They'll laugh at you, that's what they'll do. Without me, this place will fall down around your ears in no time." He leaned down over the little blonde and leered. "In six months time the Macall's will be taking over this land and your daddy will turn in his grave."

The small girl lifted her chin in mutinous outrage. "My daddy would rather see me homeless than mauled by thieving scum like you. You think I don't know you skim off the ranch profits whenever you take cattle to market?"

Rowdy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You accusing me of stealing, bitch?" He took a small threatening step nearer.

"You may have pulled the wool over Daddy's eyes but you don't fool me. You're a cheatin' bastard, Rowdy and I want you gone before sunset or I'll shoot you."

Rowdy made a low guttural growl and raised his arm ready to slap her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Cash advised in a low steel drawl. "Not if you want to leave here with all your teeth."

Two pairs of eyes spun round to stare at Cash. Rowdy sized up his new opponent and slowly dropped his arm. Cash walked up the porch steps and gave a brief nod of approval. "Wise move there, Mister. Now I suggest you do what the little lady says and clear out."