LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

1. The Spanking Tent
Miss Fanny Frobisher rapped briskly on the door of the 6th form common room and entered. A large lady wearing floaty clothing, she moved like a galleon in full sail, dropping anchor against a worn leather armchair. Depositing her plentiful bottom onto the chair, she sat, with a wave of her hand.

"Your attention girls, if you please. As you know, this year the school is short of funds for musical instruments. We have a shortfall of £3,000, so I would like you all to put your thinking caps on and come up with some fund-raising ideas."

"What sort of ideas?" mused Heather.

"Anything at all that is practical and can be easily implemented. Now - who is going to start the ball rolling?"

The common room buzzed as the girls began shouting out ideas. Audrey the prefect grabbed a pen and began writing the ideas down on a flip chart. Before long, they had quite a list, and Miss Frobisher nodded in approval.

"We will organise a fund-raising day to be held a week on Friday. Naturally, there will be no school lessons that day." This statement was greeted by rapturous applause. "As we have so many good ideas, I suggest you split into teams of four. Each team will be responsible for planning and implementing one fund raising idea. Now ..." she glanced at the flip chart, "... who is going to bake the cupcakes?"

"Me!"

"Me!"

"Me!"

"And Me!"

"Good. That's Clarissa, Beatrice, Judith and Heather. Next, I need volunteers to make and sell jam and chutney."

Another four hands went up. Audrey the prefect diligently made a note of all the names assigned to the various activities - cupcakes; jams and chutneys; home made lemonade and ginger beer; a white elephant stall; a game of 'Splat the Rat'; a coconut shy; a gypsy fortune-teller; a tombola; and a second hand book stall.

"Excellent," said Miss Frobisher. "We have four girls left to make up the tenth team. Heather - I leave it up to you and Gemma, Marigold and Martina to think of another idea. And I would like you all," she looked round the room, "to collaborate in the design of flyers and posters. I charge you all with the marketing and promotion of this splendid event. Use your imagination to get the message out to as many people as possible."

"Even local radio?" asked Porky Spalding.

"Even local radio," smiled Miss Frobisher. "What a very good idea." She rose from her chair and smiled beatifically. "I have a very busy schedule which will sadly preclude my further involvement in this initiative, but I know I can rely on all of you to turn this into a splendid event for St Agatha's School For Girls."

---oOo---
The appointed day dawned clear and bright. Thanks to the combined efforts of the sixth form, there were crowds of people milling around the school grounds, eating, drinking, browsing and participating in everything on offer.

Chapter 1
"Do we really have to go to this party, Mike?" Tiffany eyed the red brick Victorian house across the road: a large, sprawling place in its own grounds, surrounded by a walled garden with tall trees along the perimeter which screened most of the view from the street.

Tiffany peeked through gaps between the trees to see what lay beyond. An assortment of cars studded the driveway, and a small crowd of laughing, jostling people congregated by the front door, many of them with a glass or bottle in their hand. The windows of the two rooms either side of the front door had been flung open wide, venting the sounds from within, the rhythmic thud of music blending with the hubbub of voices inside, and from the terraces round the back of the house, shrieks of laughter and raucous shouts carried on the still air of early evening.

"Sure we do, babe. It'll be great, you'll see." Mike reached into the back seat of the car and grabbed the bag containing the two bottles of malt whisky they had picked up en route. Flicking a button on the key fob to lock the car, he slid the keys into his pocket and caught hold of Tiffany's hand. "C'mon. I'm looking forward to it."

Her heart sank. Maybe you are, but I'm not. "But I don't know anyone." She gave him a pleading look.

"So what?" He leaned down and gave her a fleeting kiss on the lips. "Have a few drinks. You'll soon unwind and start talking to people. They'll love you in that outfit. You look hot, honey."

"But-" She got no further. Mike yanked her forward and she tottered along precariously after him, already wishing she hadn't worn high heels.

Mike steered them across the road that was double parked with the vehicles of party-goers, and led Tiffany through a pair of impressive wrought iron gates. He whistled as they walked up the drive. "Look at this place - it must be worth a freakin' fortune. Craig and Sonia have one hell of a lifestyle. Did I tell you that Craig inherited the house from his old man, along with almost two million?"

"You did." Several times. Tiffany sighed. Money was a big deal with Mike. He had an average job that paid an average wage, and constantly moaned about the fact that he had no rich relatives to give him a helping hand to get the things he deserved.

"Lucky bastards," he muttered, his good-looking face breaking into a scowl of envy. But his expression was fleeting, the glower giving way to a bright smile as they entered the house. "Here we are, let's party!"

The wide hallway was thronged with people, and the two large reception rooms either side were equally crowded, some people dancing, others chatting in small groups.

Office Exposure
"I've lost your mother!"

Graham Stone looked up from the laptop in front of him and scowled at Mia. "You've what?"

Mia Thorpe shrugged and bit her lower lip. "Well, not 'lost' exactly... I've mislaid her."

Graham pinched the bridge of his nose in weary despair. "She is my mother, Miss Thorpe, not a FedEx parcel! How can you possibly have lost her?"

Mia took a small step nearer her boss's desk but didn't dare go too close. Graham Stone in a temper was a man to be wary of. "Well I managed to find her at the airport..."

"Wonders never cease!"

"But the car was parked a few minutes' walk away so I settled her on a bench and told her I'd get the car and be right back. Only when I did get back, she was gone."

Graham took a deep breath and Mia guessed he was counting to ten. "So you just put it down to what? Alien abduction? Kidnap? How about natural wastage? Then gave up and came back to the office without her!"

Mia felt her own volatile temper flare as embarrassment reddened her cheeks. "Of course I didn't just give up! I looked for her... but she had gone."

"Well obviously you didn't look bloody well hard enough."

"Don't shout at me," Mia returned defensively. "What was I supposed to have done? Tie her to the bench? I was only gone ten minutes. I didn't expect her to go walk-about."

"She's an old lady," Graham pointed out hotly. "Anything could have happened to her."

"Well since she's your mother, perhaps you should have gone and collected her yourself."

"Well I would have done," Graham pointed out sarcastically, "If my incompetent little brat of a secretary hadn't scheduled our biggest client to a video-conference meeting at the same time."

Mia's guilty embarrassment intensified. Okay, she deserved that one. She had messed up with an important client and left Graham no choice but to make alternative arrangements for the arrival of his mother. Now, what should have been an easy trip to the airport had turned into another disaster for Mia. Why was she so destined to mess up?

Graham had banned her from drinking coffee at her desk (or anywhere near his) because of the number of times she had spilt it on important files or even the PC. She only had to look at the photocopier for it to start shooting out paper at a hundred miles an hour, covered in black ink splodges. She had broken two staplers, one calculator and four rulers in the year she had been working at Stone Enterprises. Oh... and lost the key to the filing cabinet... twice! In fact Mia was beginning to feel jinxed.

It wasn't that she was stupid or unqualified, she was just a bit scatty at times and exceptionally accident prone.

An Eavesdropper's Tale
Stacie finished placing her undergarments in the bureau drawer just as the phone rang. Without even thinking, she picked it up on the second ring and was about to say hello, when she heard her husband's voice on the other end. She was about to hang up like she normally did when Scott answered, but this time the voice on the other end kept her listening.

"Can you talk?" a low male voice asked.

"Yeah... Stace is up in the bedroom," Scott had answered.

"Are you ready for tonight?"

"Yep, got it all worked out. She won't even know what hit her?" Scott laughed keeping his voice low.

Stacie frowned as she held the phone closer to her ear. What in the world was Scott talking about? Being careful not to breathe directly into the phone, she covered the mouthpiece with her hand and continued listening.

"What about the neighbors?" the unfamiliar voice had asked. "She'll scream you know."

"The Fergusons? Man, they're old. They won't hear a thing. And if they do... well I'll just make up something - like Stacie saw a spider or something. They'll believe it."

"We're still playing poker tonight right?"

"Yep. I've already told Stacie I won't be back until the wee hours of the morning. She won't wait up for me. She's pissed at me for going out tonight but that won't last long." Scott laughed wickedly. "She'll probably go to a movie or something with her friend Missy and then turn in early. She won't suspect a thing."

"I still can't believe you got her to sign those papers," the other voice chortled. "If that had been my old lady, she would have never signed anything giving me full rights."

"You just don't know how to do it right, man." Scott chuckled. "I told Stacie some lame story about our house insurance needing an update and the paper had to have both our signatures on it. She signed it... no questions asked."

Stacie remembered. Scott had come home about a week ago claiming Allstate needed an update on their insurance policy. Scott was right, she hadn't thought twice when he'd told her to sign on the dotted line. She figured he had already read everything and there was no reason for her to reread. Now, she wished she had gone over the document with a fine tooth comb! What was Scott trying to pull?

Scowling, she listened to the rest of the conversation which was apparently about to end.

"Just hope I don't read about you in the morning paper my man."

Scott snorted. "NO one is ever going to know besides you, me and... Stacie.

"Well we'll see if you can pull it off."

"I'll call you later and let you know if the job got done," Scott almost whispered before adding, "I'd better go, Stacie will be coming downstairs any minute. She might overhear."

Memories of Westminster Lodge
"Shall we feed the ducks?" said the youthful looking mother as she threw the last of the breadcrumbs to the sparrows gathered on the damp grass.

The excited tot in the pushchair shrilled aloud, "Ducks mummy! Ducks!"

"Come on then, let's feed the ducks," smiled the pretty blonde, pushing the pushchair towards the vast pond. It was a cold, crisp morning as the sun danced blissfully upon the green hills that rose above the huge oaks and birches at the bottom of the long winding path. It was simply ideal for a day at Westminster Park. There were lakes to see, rides to take, treats to eat, a beautiful cathedral and even a medieval castle to visit.

Sitting prominently in the distance across the boating lake stood Westminster Lodge, as erect and strong as a mountain lion that ruled its Kingdom. The young mother with the tot, Cheryl Walker, put her hand to her brow to get a clearer look, her concentration broken only by her tiny son's cry of, "Doggy mummy!" Cheryl smiled warmly from her cute oval mouth and cuddled the infant that was so dear to her.

Cheryl reflected on the gloriously happy six years she had spent at the Lodge, a co-ed private school for the offspring of wealthy parents. Twelve years had passed since her schooldays had ended when she left the upper sixth with four 'A' level passes. Exam pressures were far outweighed by the enjoyment she had experienced during what she termed as the best days of her life. Being chosen as head girl whilst in the sixth, and being made captain of the sixth form hockey and lacrosse teams were accolades that she warmly cherished. She sighed. Life then had such a simplicity and innocence about it. Being a vivacious teenager seemed far happier than being a thirty-year-old housewife. Her marriage to Roger had come too soon and now it was stale. She wouldn't leave for the sake of the children, but during the last four years there had been other men.

Hardly surprising, because Cheryl was indeed a most attractive woman, looking and feeling about eight years younger than she was. Good dieting, yoga classes and regular workouts helped her maintain her youthful looks, and men of all ages were attracted to her. Her skin was like silk and her medium length blonde hair was as honey-kissed as when she was the envy of the upper sixth. At the private gym, available to those who were prepared to pay excessive fees, she looked seductively ravishing in her leotards, seductive enough to attract the attention of a young bodybuilder, seven years her junior.

The glow had momentarily disappeared from her face. She was at the crossroads of her life, a life that was undoubtedly endowed with the best: a luxurious home, a wealthy entrepreneur of a husband, and two wonderful children. But she was here at Westminster Park to take stock and quite honestly, life with Roger was such a bore.

Discipline with Love
A New Computer

Joanna stood facing the wall of the bedroom, her mind spinning with confused emotions. Some time soon, Graeme would come through the door, and she would be faced with the biggest decision of her life - to accept and stay - or to refuse and go. She leant her forehead against the cool pine panelling, and thought over the events which had led her to this pass.

---oOo---
"Damn!" said Joanna Rutherford, as the screwdriver slipped again and jabbed into her thigh. 'Easy Home-Assembly' it had said on the box. Yeah, right, she thought. Easy if you had a degree in engineering or something. Not so easy if the most constructive thing you'd ever done was build a little square house out of Lego bricks! Why hadn't she just accepted her brother-in-law's offer to come over and do this for her? Pride - that's why. She was a mature, independent twenty-eight year old woman, and she would do this herself!

And do it she did. Two hours and much cursing later she stood back and proudly surveyed the new computer-desk. True, she had a couple of bits left over, but she was pretty sure they weren't important, and the desk seemed steady enough. Tomorrow the computer would arrive, and the prospect filled her with a child-like excitement. She had saved long and hard for this. Steadfastly turning her back on the tempting interest free credit offers, she had gone each week to the building society and deposited her money, denying herself many of life's little luxuries in the process. But it was worth it.

Joanna was even more sure of that the following evening as she looked at the brand new equipment all nicely set up on the brand new desk. Tentatively, she set up her first Internet account.

---oOo---
She was brought back to the present by the sound of Graeme moving around in the living room. Was he really going to punish her as he had said? Could she - would she - submit? Did she want this? That question would have been so easy to answer a year ago, with an unequivocal 'Yes'. But now that the moment had come, she just didn't know any more. Just one year since the night she had typed 'that word' into the Search Engine.

---oOo---
Over the next few weeks Joanna became more confident and competent with her computer skills. She learned that cutting and pasting had nothing to do with scissors; that Spam wasn't just that revolting pink meat that came in a tin, and that wallpaper was more than the flowery stuff that decorated her bedroom. The Net was a source of wonder to her. Information on her favourite rock stars and authors, recipes, hints and tips on everything from gardening to gynaecology - all this at her fingertips. She loved it.

Attitude Adjustment
Emma stared hard at the door. So far she had seen three people go in but no-one had yet come back out. That meant one of two things. Either there was another way out once you got on the other side, or no one left alive! She prayed it was the former.

She'd been waiting for quite a while. Not that she was really in a great hurry to get back there but she did want to get the whole stupid thing over with. Practically every nail on her right hand was chewed down to the quick from nerves.

She was the only one left in the waiting room. Everyone else had been called. She wondered what would happen if she just got up and walked right out of the door and went home. But she didn't. She knew she'd be caught and her punishment would just be worse. So, she sat and waited.

Finally, the older woman behind the desk looked straight at her and said, "They're almost ready for you. Please go in and strip from the waist down. They'll be with you in a moment."

She wondered who 'they' were but was afraid to ask. She thought she was seeing one man but apparently she was seeing several.

Slowly, standing on shaky legs, Emma walked towards the door. Each step she took seemed to grow heavier and heavier until finally she reached her destination. Turning the knob with a sweaty palm, she opened the door.

At first glance upon stepping into the room, Emma didn't see that it looked much different from how a doctor's office might look. There was an examination table in the middle, a sink on the side and plenty of cabinets. But on a closer inspection of her surroundings, Emma discovered a few rather alarming corporal punishment items she'd never seen before pushed into one of the corners. And one wall was totally lined with paddles of different shapes and sizes. Emma shivered apprehensively.

Reluctantly, she closed the door behind her and began following the directions she had been given. Before long her new linen skirt and black panties were both draped across one of the many chairs occupying the room. She wasn't sure whether or not she was supposed to be sitting or standing. The lady hadn't said anything about that. So she simply stood leaning against the examination table and stared once more at the stupid door.

It seemed like she had been standing for an eternity before she heard a loud knock on the door. She hadn't even said, "Come in," before three men came waltzing in, practically ignoring her very existence as they continued talking with one another. In fact, it was several long seconds before they seemed to realize there was a fourth person in the room.

"Miss Banks?" the oldest of the three men asked as he read the name off of a chart that he held tightly in his hands.

Gerald's Fling
"What time did you get in last night, Gerald, it seemed pretty late to me?" Patty was curious just how late her husband had been because of her suspicions he was having a fling with another woman.

Gerald appeared nervous as he replied, "Oh, close to one in the morning I guess. Got out with the boys and time just flew, you know how it goes."

Patty immediately opened her phone and clicked onto the picture she had taken last night. "You were not anywhere near one o'clock Gerald. See this picture of your side of the bed and the clock. I took this last night as you can tell by the time on the picture. Your side of the bed is empty, but the clock says two thirty in the morning. How do you explain that?"

Gerald knew he was in trouble. "I guess it could have been three when I got in. I didn't think so, but maybe it was."

Patty's anger showed as she said, "Gerald I am going to make this plain and simple. Are you cheating on me? Are you having a fling, seeing another woman? I want the truth and I want it now!"

Gerald pursed his lips and paused before replying, "I will tell you the truth, Patty. The only thing I ask is that you let me tell you the entire story before you make any kind of decision. I am not having a fling, not in a way most people think of it anyway."

Patty felt tears spring to her eyes. She still loved him and hated what she thought he might have done, but she responded, "Tell me the truth, Gerald, and I want to hear everything."

Gerald sighed and started, saying, "Three weeks ago I met my high school sweetheart at the grocery store. I was shocked because she had married and moved away two years before I met you. She asked me out for coffee and I agreed. It was in the middle of the day and I saw no harm in rehashing the past."

Patty nodded. "Go on."

Gerald continued. "I saw her three times since, including last night. Now before you jump to any conclusions, she told me things had changed for her and she was moving back in with her ex-husband. That is what we talked about until three in the morning. There was no fling; I swear all we ever did was talk."

"What was so interesting you could not invite me along, Gerald? Why didn't you tell me about meeting her the first time?" The hurt in her voice came out, at the same time there was some relief that maybe their marriage could survive.

Gerald bit his lip and said, "I didn't think you would be interested in hearing about my past girlfriends. I had a kink in those days that she knew about and wanted to know if I still practiced. That kink was a large part of our relationship back in those days."

Chapter 1
"Oh my God! Woman, you don't just burn your bridges, you blow up the road as well." Laughing at both the unfolding story and the young woman gracing her San Francisco bedroom, Kylee handed her best friend since grade school a second glass of Pinot Noir and took a seat on the cushioned bench at the end of the bed. "I mean, no kidding; all his stuff out the window?"

Accepting the offered glass of ruby comfort, Valerie leaned back against the oak headboard of Kylee's bed, taking a deep sip. "Shirts, pants, you name it, right out the window."

Shaking her head, Kylee took her own swig of Napa Valley red and leaned forward to rest her arm on the blue silk of her favorite bedspread. "OK, Val, we've had our wine and you've had your cry. Now spill."

Setting her glass down on the nightstand, Val ran her hands through her hair. 'Hair straight as a stalk of Idaho wheat and just as blonde,' her mom liked to say. A complete opposite of Kylee's almost blue-black curls, courtesy a heritage consisting of both Greek and Portuguese. The girls had met at a Seattle, Washington, neighborhood pool their third-grade summer, one light-skinned and slathered in sunscreen, and the other already well-browned by the early July sun. Val had offered to share her kickboard with Kylee, and a lifelong friendship was born. As they got older, they found they shared a lot of common interests. Sports, fashion, and to their parents shared headaches, boys. Luckily for Val and Kylee, their tastes in the male gender ran in two different directions. Kylee always went for the loud, athletic types. Val preferred the quieter debate and chess club boys.

"Come on, Val, you're stalling. I want to hear every detail, including how you got away clean."

"What do you mean, got away clean?"

Shrugging, Kylee swirled her wine a little and looked up at her friend. "You know, got away. I mean, let's face it, Ming the Merciless isn't exactly your usual type."

Taking up her glass again, Val frowned down the bed at her friend. "What do you mean my type? And don't call him Ming."

"I mean, unlike the last two milksops you dated, he didn't strike me as the kind of man who would respond to his clothes flying through the air with just a shrug and a tear. And while we're on the subject, why not Ming? I like Ming. It fits him better than Jason."

Val had to partially agree with her best friend. Her last few boyfriends were indeed milksops. First, it had been a bartender/actor she met during her early years as a special events organizer in LA. It had been her first big break, assisting the more seasoned employees with a Tropical Expressions venue for the latest celebrity-endorsed rum.