LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Megan's nose was six inches from the carpet. Had she wanted, she could have been proud of the cleaning job she had done on the coffee stain, the spot on the carpet right under her nose. She even had the faint smell of the cleaning fluid in her nostrils. She could also have been proud of the high quality garter belt and knickers that she always wore, for Megan, a cautious woman, was mindful of the time she might have to visit the doctor for an examination, or worse suddenly find herself in hospital being undressed by nurses. That was why two neatly laundered and pressed nighties were wrapped up ready in a parcel and stored away, just in case an overnight or longer stay would be needed. Her pride demanded nothing less.

At present however, these considerations were not in the forefront of her mind. She was having her bottom smacked for the first time in her life. Incredibly, unbelievably, she was being held down across a man's knees, her skirt raised and with only those expensive knickers for protection her bottom was being seriously, properly, repeatedly, spanked. But how could she have let it happen?

Despite early summer, the breeze off the north sea in that small coastal town had been chilly and Megan with her friend and playmate Eve had taken refuge in a local teashop: two respectable ladies, both over the hump of middle age, both widowed, Megan by three years and Eve, well, she walked out on her husband years ago and now presumed dead. Megan was relating a tale of woe. Since Gerald's death and her grown-up children flown the nest she had fulfilled a life-long ambition and begun learning to play the flute and was doing well at it. True, she had started playing whilst still at school but work and marriage had intervened and it was only in the last two years that she was able to find time to practice in earnest. Then her present teacher, Mrs. Witherspoon had suddenly announced she was departing the area leaving Megan without even the luxury of a piano accompanist. What was she to do?

"It's so boring playing on your own," she wailed and Eve had clucked in sympathy.

"Can I be of any help?" said a male voice from the neighbouring table. They were both too polite to say a word and ignored him. The voice however persisted. "I couldn't help overhearing your problem. Forgive me for butting in. I've had some experience of accompanying, I'm staying here for a few weeks so if you want to make use of me, feel free to do so."

This time they did both look at him. He was about their age or older perhaps, greying hair, ordinary looking, neat grey suit, and that's all there was to see: ordinary, and of course respectable, which is what really mattered.

"Say yes," whispered Eve.

"Shut up!"