LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Chapter 1
A tall, pale-faced woman, with soft, brown, shoulder-length hair stood in the dock, her name: Anna Dobson. Perhaps one should refer to her as a young woman, for her age was twenty-eight. One could sense the tension in her yet, all the same, there was a look of defiance in her attractive features. She was smartly dressed in a tunic blouse and a figure-moulding trouser suit. The outfit showed her generous but well-proportioned figure to advantage and the colour - a powder blue - seemed to emphasise her femininity.

Before Anna Dobson were the three magistrates who had been conducting her trial; they had just returned to the court after a brief consultation in an adjacent private room. The moment of their verdict was at hand. The young woman's hands suddenly gripped the brass dock-rail tightly, and she swayed slightly. In her heart, she already knew that verdict. The trial, without jury, had been a mere charade, a formality which had to be gone through, for those accused of her 'crime' were invariably convicted. Even so, being human, Anna Dobson held on to thin strands of hope until the last. One never quite knew. Perhaps her appearance, her manner, might soften them.

The chief magistrate was a man in his sixties: balding, greying, his rounded features gave a first impression of joviality which was quickly denied by the coldness of his pale blue eyes. He was flanked by two women magistrates of similar age, both lean, hatchet-faced creatures, with angular, bony bodies. All three gazed at the young woman in the dock, coldly and dispassionately. If the chief magistrate saw her sway in the dock, he did not comment on it, nor did he suggest she be offered a seat by one of the two female guards who stood with her in the dock.

"Anna Dobson," said the chief magistrate, after a prolonged pause, "you have been accused and put on trial here for a serious offence." Another pause. "Taking part in an unlawful demonstration is a serious offence. You do realise that?"

The blonde head bowed fractionally, the light brown eyes wavered.

"Yes ... Your Honour," Anna Dobson answered in a low, well-modulated voice.

"Speak up, girl," ordered the chief magistrate sharply. Frankly, he admitted to himself (and only to himself, of course) that he had enjoyed this morning. He liked trying that sort of case, especially when the prisoner was as attractive of face and figure as Anna Dobson was. She had the looks and shape which made her a menace to society - and to herself.

"Yes, Your Honour," repeated Anna Dobson in a louder voice. Her head came up again and her jaw had a rather more defiant jut to it.

A spell in one of the special Reform Schools will do this arrogant trollop a power of good, thought one of the women magistrates. Just look at her standing there, flaunting herself, still shameless. She, who had admitted two charges of unlawful assembly.