LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Charlotte was curled up on her favourite window seat in the sitting room happily immersed in her copy of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations until the faint rumble of carriage wheels and horses hooves caught her attention. Putting down her book she glanced through the window. The Duke of Stanton's carriage was clearly discernible, being painted in the family colours and crests. It approached steadily, pulled by a team of sleek, plumed horses tacked up in pristine harnesses.

Charlotte sighed, for the Duke was an odious man... a lecherous, fat slug of a man with a ruddy complexion, sagging jowls, and chins that wobbled. His large belly protruded over his breeches and he had mammoth thighs that tapered to a ridiculous slimness below the knee, quite disproportionate to the rest of his bulk. She shuddered at the recollection of her last encounter with him: his brazen stare at her bodice, the podgy fingers which grasped her own delicate hand, and those thick lips of his which cloyingly lingered as he kissed her fingers. His oily smile held no mirth, nor was there any reflected in his black pebble eyes; they were cold and hard and dangerous, filling her with an irrational fear as well as loathing.

Not for the first time, she wondered why such a powerful and influential man as the Duke would bother associating with her father ... a man without a title, and socially below the aristocracy. She assumed it was because father was amongst the landed gentry, being a wealthy landowner... though she was uncomfortably aware that the extent of his once vast wealth had dwindled markedly owing to his drinking and gambling habits since mother died. Not that he would discuss such matters with her, but it had become apparent that in addition to selling off great tracts of land (to the Duke), the number of household staff had been halved during the past year, and she was no longer allowed to buy fine gowns, being curtly told to "Make do with what you have."

And now the Duke and his cronies had returned; no doubt for another little soiree which usually involved drinking the best wines from the cellar and bleeding father dry at their stupid card games. As the carriage rolled into the courtyard, Charlotte decided it was time to make herself scarce. Jumping up, she fled from the sitting room, grabbed an apple and a piece of cheese from the larder, and ran up the staircase to the sanctuary of her room. If her presence at dinner was requested, she would simply feign illness and remain well out of the reach of the repugnant old Duke.

---oOo---
Four men sat round the table in the drawing room: the Duke, two of his associates, and Charlotte's father, Frederick Grenville. Drinking heavily, Frederick raised his glass and committed to yet another game. Whilst some card games were based on pure luck, the Duke had a particular fondness for Whist, a game which involved a high level of concentration to keep track of the cards, as well as knowledge of the extensive technical jargon.