LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Chapter 1
I had stayed the night in a small but very attractive motel. Now it was morning and time to complete the last stage of my journey. I stood in the fresh, clean air of morning, admiring the surprisingly pretty grounds. The small town of Wheelton was close to the railway and the main highway but my destination was deeper into the surrounding rolling farmland. I stood still... almost reluctant to move. It would be so very easy to get in my car and go back the way I had come, to walk away before I got in too deep. The moment of hesitation passed; I had come so far I might just as well go the rest of the way. Once I got there it wouldn't be too late to back out. If it really freaked me... if he really freaked me, then I would leave. I began the last stage of my journey.

It was a journey that had, in a sense, begun a year earlier. I worked in finance in New York. I'd been sent by my British bank to the New York office and had simply changed jobs. I worked at a heady level where my decisions could make millions for my employers or lose them even more. It was a cocaine and alcohol-fuelled existence and I was good. My bonuses were eye watering to those in more sedate employment but I sensed I could not go on long. Deep within me I despised what I was doing but I couldn't think what else to do. What was the point of life if not to pursue success in every way and acquire the trappings that went with it? Then my sister-in-law called me.

She was nigh on incomprehensible, babbling, crying and screaming. Eventually a calm male voice took over from her. It was simple enough: my parents, my brother and his wife and two small children were on holiday at a beach resort popular with Europeans although it was not in Europe. A small group of men came to the beach and simply opened up with automatic weapons firing randomly at the holiday makers. Old or young, male or female, it made no difference; all were cut down if they were in the path of the bullets. My sister-in-law was not on the beach. She had taken the children (two and three years old) for an ice cream but my parents and brother were dead.

I took leave of absence and the first available plane out. Anne, poor thing, was distraught and incapable of anything. I took over the children and managed everything with the help of the British consulate. The bodies were repatriated and we flew home to my parents' house. Anne could not face her own home without my brother. Again, I did everything, for Anne by now was in a sort of tranquillised dream.