LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Chapter One
Sheena was in a tough spot. She was high in the air, muscles straining, and she was staring at the ground below her. Sheena was essentially wedged between two crumbling buildings in the worst slum of Regina City. Were it not for her predicament, she might find that almost amusing. Regina City was named for the planet's former queen and was supposed to be the best of the best. Well, it appeared not everyone got the memo on that. Large sections of it were stricken with the worst poverty.

Oh well, at least we're kept out of sight, right, people?

She cast her eyes about the area looking for him, Mr. Snotty Upper Crust who'd been chasing her. He was nowhere in sight. This hiding spot always worked. No one ever thought to look up here, the open space between two buildings. Long ago, when she was about twelve, she'd figured that out, and learned to essentially 'wall walk' up between the buildings using her hands and feet to push against the old apartments and get her up and out of trouble. However, she was getting tired; she was going to have to come down.

It's okay, he's got to be gone by now. Nobody's going to spend so much time chasing one little street rat.

Slowly, jarringly, she came down the walls until she was close enough to safely drop to the ground. Brushing the dust and paint from her hands, she straightened her tattered shorts (they'd ridden up on her ass a bit), and set off. It was morning and she was hungry. She had no money (as usual), so theft or begging was the rule of the day.

Whoosh! An odd sound echoed around her. Her cat-like reflexes kicked in and she spun to face the new intruder. She wasn't fast enough. Two shots from a Web Gun struck her, pinning her arms to her side and ensnaring her ankles, and she promptly flopped to the ground. Wiggling and squirming like a snake, she heard and then saw feet approaching her. She looked up and saw the fancy and ornate boots of him step in front of her.

"Well, well, little street rat, we meet again," he said smugly.

"Look, dude, I don't know what you want with me, but let's talk," she said, trying to sound sweet and sincere.

He hoisted her aloft so they could look at each other. She cringed. He was big, with a powerful build, long arms and legs, and a long mane and beard of ebony hair with just a hint of premature grey at the temples. She also felt a slight surge to her pussy. He was awesome! If she wasn't poor and he (obviously) a member of the nobility, she would have come on to him when they first met. However, she might be only twenty, but she knew her station in society.

Chapter 1
As I got dressed I was wondering how come I was going to my friend Ella's house to be spanked. I was thirty-three years old and a lifelong friend of Ella, also thirty-three. She was divorced with two children. I was still unmarried.

I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I had purchased the school clothes at the retail park yesterday, when I had arranged with Ella to go to her house for my spanking. I remembered the conversation so clearly. I was feeling relaxed after the two glasses of wine we'd consumed. As a mother of teenagers, Ella told me how she used spanking to enforce her rules at home. I mused with her that I had never been spanked as a youngster and wondered if I would have been better behaved if I had been. I even told her how I had often imagined myself across my mum's lap. Ella laughed as she told me that knowing how I acted sometimes with her, she would definitely have spanked me if she had been my mum.

I laughed. Ella told me how she had spanked Ben two days earlier for arguing with her and how Lizzie watched. In fact she always gave a spanking with the other sibling allowed to watch. I told Ella I could see how that would make the punishment more effective and agreed it was a good idea to let siblings watch the spanking.

The conversation continued and I playfully smacked the back of Ella's hand when she went to take my glass away. That was when she looked at me with a motherly stern look and said firmly, "If you were my daughter you'd get your bottom spanked for that, young lady."

I blushed as I replied arrogantly, "Whatever."

Ella leaned forward and told me in a very assertive tone, "Tomorrow, my house, you get spanked."

I licked my lips and playing along replied petulantly, "What? After school?"

Ella kept a stern look on her face, screwing up her eyes. "Yes, be at mine at four o'clock. I'll have got the kids home from school by then." She added, "As it's after school, wear a school uniform... the one you wore at the fancy dress party the other week, like Lizzie's school uniform."

Ella and I laughed about the interchange. However when she left to collect the kids from school she reminded me in a stern voice, "Don't forget, Steph. Four o'clock tomorrow. You'll come over and I'll give you that spanking you have needed so badly for so long."

So when I looked at myself in the mirror I knew what was going to happen to me inside the next hour; it was something I had fantasised about for years and years, except I had pictured myself across my mum's lap and not Ella's. Also, I pictured my sister watching me being spanked.

Chapter One
Demi lay on the bed and sobbed. Her life was in a downward spiral and she saw no hope of fixing it, no light at the end of the tunnel, as her dad used to say. No, if anything, the light in her tunnel was an old fashioned train coming right at her. Frankly, she welcomed the idea: a quick and painless death to end her suffering.

"Dem-me, are you all right?" a familiar voice said behind her.

Snapping up to a sitting position, she stifled her tears, and wiped her face before turning to face him. She managed a small smile. "Tyne, how many times have I told you, it's pronounced 'Demi'!"

"I am sorry, but there are aspects of your human language that still escape me. Again I ask, why are you troubled?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine. I have to be going. Your beds are all made; fresh towels are in the bathroom."

She moved for the door, but he was easily able to block her. They made for quite a pair. She a petite (a hair under five-feet) yet muscular young woman with a pageboy haircut (she liked keeping her black hair super short), and he a Florian. Tyne was part of the delegation from Planet Florian, the newest planet to join the Confederation, and they'd been on Earth for a month now negotiating the terms of the treaty. The Florians were quite the beautiful race: incredibly tall (seven feet was the minimum height), long golden hair, and features that made them look like elves or some other mystical beings. That first day, when they arrived at the diplomatic hotel, Demi had been smitten by Tyne, and been deeply moved by the fact that he treated her (an ordinary maid) like a real person.

Most people didn't, especially her ex-husband.

Tyne knelt down so they were almost face to face and scoldingly wagged his long index finger at her. "Dem-me, do not lie to me. What is troubling you?"

She stood there and hung her head, a tear trickling down her cheek. "The hotel is cutting my hours."

"Cut... hours? Ah, they are reducing your workload. That is not acceptable. Do you not have a high debt and must struggle to get your ends to come together?"

"It's 'make ends meet', Tyne," she said with a weak smile.

He cupped her tiny chin in his large hand. "At least it made you smile. Is there not something to be done for you?"

"Tyne, that's very sweet of you to ask about, but I'll deal with it. I can look for a third job and see if the casino will give me an extension."

"Cas-ino? I thought your debts were with financial institutions."

"Banks, we call them banks, and yes, most of my debt is with them, but my ex also gambled a lot, and left me with the debts at the gambling places."

Chapter One
Ginny stood at the controls of the little choo-choo train, an ear to ear grin on her face. She hadn't had fun like this since she was about twelve, which was a full decade ago. It made her giggle to think how she had to stand to see out the front. Ginny had never been a big girl, or a very highly-developed one at that. No, she was petite, very petite, and with the most minimal figure of any in her little social group. When they used to go out clubbing, it was literally impossible for her to get an alcoholic drink. It didn't matter that she had four different kinds of ID, the bartenders refused to believe she was of age, and her friends only compounded the matter by calling her 'Kiddo' or saying she was their little sister tagging along with the big kids. If it weren't for the full bar at her Daddy's place in Newport, she wouldn't have gotten a drink ever!

Well, that was all behind her now. She was out on her own, she had her own place and was supporting herself with a job, and she was making her way in the world. Actually, her father paid a reasonable allowance into her account every month, and that's what she really lived on. Given time, she was sure she'd find a way to earn a living. For the moment, she was going to live in the moment. She was working at 'The Playful Bruins Fun Camp' in (ironically) Newport, Florida (right on the Gulf Coast), and she loved it. The little train was about half scale, brightly colored, and full of happy chattering kids. Ginny felt like quite the engineer.

The train followed the serpentine tracks around the low manmade main 'hill' of the park, through the long tunnel (the kids all squealing in delight at racing through the dark), and into the dense woods that ringed the lake. She rang the bell. Nat (short for Natalie), her new friend and oldest daughter of the owners, had told her to ring it as a signal that they were coming into a station (there were four throughout the park). Leaning out the side window, the wind whipping her long brown hair about, she saw the station ahead. She turned the power level down, the engine stopped, and the train essentially coasted into the station. While the train was electric, the sound effects made it sound like it was a real steam engine. She pulled back on the brake. It squealed and the train kind of lurched to a stop.

Huh, I'm going to need to work on that. Mr. Parmenter was very clear on that point: 'Don't shake the guests up too much. One little injury and we'll get sued.'

She whipped her head around and smiled. Everyone was okay.

It started quite by chance... 24 year-old Emma lived just a few doors away from 36-year-old Stephanie. They became friendly and one day were having coffee at Steph's house. Steph was in a state of despair with her two kids - Billy aged ten and Joel aged eight.

"Last week they were a nightmare," Steph complained. "I had to spank them both twice. Thank goodness they are off to camp the day after tomorrow for a couple of weeks."

"How often do you spank them?" Emma asked.

Steph sighed. "At least once a week. It used to be more often but I guess they have improved."

"So spanking worked?"

"No doubt about it," Steph enthused. "My Mum never spanked me and I was a bit of a tomboy. I wish she had dealt with me more strictly."

"My Mum never spanked me either. Even now I reckon it would do me some good."

"Really?" Steph queried. "At your age?"

Emma blushed as she admitted, "I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a twelve-year-old again and to be subject to a much stricter disciplinary regime."

"Are you sure?" Steph asked, smiling. "It would be far more restrictive than you might think."

"How?" Emma's blush deepened.

"Oh, doing as you are told all the time and getting spanked if you don't."

"Yes, but if I had experienced that when I was twelve I would know."

"If you really want to, why not let me be your strict Mum to your twelve-year-old you?" suggested Steph.

"Sounds like an idea," Emma said, biting her lip. After a moment she asked, "But how would it work?"

Steph smiled and made a suggestion. "If you want you can come and stay with me when the kids are away. I know you go to work. However, if you take a couple of week's holiday you can stay at home with me. You will have to act and behave like a twelve-year-old and I will be the strict mum. Hey, I mean the very strict mum."

Emma liked the idea. "It does sound cool. But look... I know I want to experience a strict upbringing, but do you really want to have to deal with a naughty twelve-year-old?"

Steph was enjoying herself. "I'm going to have to do exactly that in a couple of years time, so it will be good training."

Emma took only a minute to decide. "It's a deal then, Steph," she said gleefully.

Steph glared back. "It's a deal then, Mum," she corrected.

Emma laughed. "Yes, sorry, Mum."

---oOo---
Two days later Emma carried two suitcases in to Steph's house and took them up to the spare bedroom. Emma put the cases down and looked at the bed. There was a school dress laid out on it; a short-sleeved green and white gingham checked dress with a front zip and two front pleats.

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.

Chapter One
Joe was very happy in his life. Standing in the main rotunda of his camp, he looked out over his dominion. Granted, it wasn't much, merely a camp for teens, but it was all his. Well, his and the bank, but he was working on dissolving that partnership. That was the whole reason for this special weekend party: get more butts in the bunks. That was his biggest problem. It wasn't like the old days when his pop ran the place. Back then, kids enjoyed getting out in nature. These days, the teens were so wired into the internet and social media that two of them sitting next to each other would rather text each other than talk! He wasn't being facetious either; he'd literally seen it happen.

That was yet another reason for the special open house today. While his camp catered to teens, he'd told the local families it was okay to bring the little ones. Some of the camp counselors thought him mad, but there was method to that madness. First off, he was sowing the seeds of potential future campers. If the wee ones saw what a great place Camp Hideaway was, when they got old enough they'd ask to go there. On the other hand, their older siblings would see it as a sanctuary from their whiny demanding younger sibs.

So, while the counselors showed the parents and teens around, Joe got a break, and just sort of meandered among the picnic tables where the little kids were being kept and having what he called the 'Teddy Bears' Picnic'. He liked doing themed events, and so every table had several teddy bears. They had food and drinks, games and crafts, and could just run around and play. Joe smiled. This was a role he relished, being a father figure to children in need. Most of the little ones here seemed happy and well-adjusted, but there was one troublemaker who caught his eye. Actually, he'd noticed her before; she was cute as a button. Just a guess, but she looked no more than fourteen, unruly blonde hair, slender firm figure, barely five feet tall, and probably not more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her red and blue t-shirt seemed too big for her, and her khaki shorts were faded and dirty.

She was happily eating and drinking and playing with some of the teddies, but then she started acting silly and throwing sandwiches. He chewed his lip. It was time to step in to have a word. She grabbed a teddy, threw it in the air, and scampered off across the rotunda lawn. Joe gave chase, but kept his pace at a rapid walk as he didn't want to attract any attention. She was headed north toward the lake, passing the recreation center on her right, and he caught up to her near the end of the building.

Chapter One
Josh was worn out. He'd had a long day, on top of a long hard week, but what choice did he have? Not only was he a college professor, he was a popular one, which meant his classes were almost always full. This night, he had a huge pile of papers to grade, and it was already quite late. Josh knew that as the cleaning lady had arrived.

She only came by after midnight.

Sitting there, he shifted in his chair (his butt was going to sleep), stretched his back, and rubbed the back of his neck. He groaned at the sight of the number of tests still to grade. That was the thing about physics, it didn't lend itself to a multiple choice test, and that made grading long and tedious. He was going to need more coffee.

Rising from his desk in the main auditorium, the place most of his classes were held (owing to their large size), he shuffled down the main aisle, out the double doors at the end, and made his way to the break room. He cringed at the cup of sludge the so-called coffee machine produced.

God, this stuff'll either keep me awake or embalm me! Oh what I'd give for a really decent cup of coffee.

Heading back to the class room, he managed a small smile. There was a lovely aroma in the air, and it wasn't the vile drink in his hand. It was perfume. No, not perfume, it was merely a fresh and clean woman. It was the cleaning woman.

His smile grew bigger as he reached his desk. She was there now, her cart parked at the first row of desks and chairs, and she was cleaning the back row, high up at the back wall. He was surprised by her; she was not the stereotypical cleaning woman: middle aged and Hispanic. No, she was mid twenties, and probably Eastern European, judging by her looks. He'd never actually spoken to her, as she was far too shy to even look him (or anyone else) in the eye. Still, she was quite the lovely little lady - petite, dark hair and eyes, and a firm figure with great curves. She wore jeans that were very snug, and every bend to dust under a table or chair gave him a great view of her toned and plump ass... truly a thing of beauty!

Sitting there, he took another sip of his slime, and actually felt a little refreshed. No, it wasn't from the imitation coffee he was choking down. Just the sight of her, the scent of her simple body lotions and shampoo were enough to give him that all-important energy boost. He felt sure he'd be able to get through all of his work.

A moment later, he opened his eyes to find that he was face down on the table.

Louisa hurtled round the corner at top speed and sprinted towards the bus stop, then cursed as her bus went whizzing by before she'd reached the stop.

"Oh no," she wailed, and glanced at her watch. She couldn't be late for work again. Today was Friday, and she'd already been late twice - 15 minutes on Monday and a staggering 40 minutes yesterday.

Rather than stand at the bus stop for twenty minutes waiting for the next bus to arrive, she set off walking, intending to hail a cab... not that she could afford it, but it was necessary if she wanted to keep her job at Ventris Construction. She'd been there barely a month and had already made a hash of things including misfiling invoices, forgetting to pass on important telephone messages, and the most disastrous incident of all was when she unplugged her computer's network cable so she could move it on to the next desk (much bigger and nicer, with a pretty pink office chair). As a result of her ineptitude, the entire office network had crashed and some people had lost data. A contender for employee of the month she was not - though if the company had an award for the most inefficient employee of the month, she'd likely win that without even trying.

She sighed and quickened her pace, muttering, "Damn, damn, damn," every time she looked at her watch. It was almost 9 o'clock. She should be at the office by now, and even if a cab came by soon, it would still take 15 minutes to drive in to work. To make matters worse, it started to to rain: a soft drizzle gradually gathered momentum, gentle drops becoming heavier and more frequent, splatting down on the pavement. In mere minutes the shower became a downpour, soaking Louisa to the skin. She inwardly berated herself for not carrying an umbrella, and plodded on dejectedly, her blonde hair dripping and her waterlogged sandals squelching with every step.

When eventually a cab came into view, she hailed it and climbed in gratefully, glad to get out of the rain.

"Ventris Construction please. Morgan Avenue," she told the driver.

The driver nodded and the black cab moved forwards, its windscreen wipers swaying frantically from side to side as the rain teamed down. Louisa brushed her wet hair from her face and leaned back in her seat. Rush hour traffic was always bad, but today it was worse than usual. Vehicles crawled along, and after five minutes the cab came to a complete standstill.

"We could be here for some time, Miss," the driver said. "There's roadworks up ahead and temporary traffic lights."

"Oh no - I'm late enough as it is," wailed Louisa. She could already imagine the humiliating ticking off she would get from Miss Wiggins, the office supervisor, and could clearly picture the old dragon's poker face and the contemptuous expression in her pebble eyes once she beheld Louisa's dishevelled appearance.

"Take off your clothes."

Emily blinked. "What? Um ... you don't mean all of them?"

"I do. All of them. Every stitch."

Emily visibly squirmed. She pulled her best cute little girl face and batted her eyelashes, a tactic that so often worked ... but not this time. Leo merely stared impassively as he waited for her to obey, the only sign of emotion a warning predatory gleam in his blue eyes. Slightly narrowed now, they fixed intently on her. She knew that look so well. When he was in 'strict daddy' mode he wouldn't be dissuaded from his purpose no matter how hard she tried to deflect him, and she knew full well his purpose right now was to spank her naughty bottom. In an attempt to delay the inevitable, she tried another tactic.

"Sorry," she said contritely. Sir. He expects to be called Sir at times like this. "I'm very sorry, Sir."

Leo shook his head. "It's no good being sorry after the event. You shouldn't have misbehaved to start with, and telling lies about it has only served to prolong your punishment," he said sternly, reaching for the little red leather paddle on the table.

"But Daddy," she pleaded, "it was all a misunderstanding."

"That's what you said last time ... and the time before."

"Oh." She pouted. Crap.

"So stop prevaricating and do as you're told. Strip."

Emily sighed. Doing as she was told wasn't something she was particularly good at. And she hated it when she had to strip for a spanking - it was so much more fun when Leo undressed her. But fun wasn't within reach right now. She had been a bad girl and now it was time to face the consequences. Catching sight of the paddle, she gulped. It was only small, but it was very hard and stingy. She knew then that she would be eating her dinner standing up. Pulling a wry face, she began fiddling with the buttons on her blouse. Off it came, followed by her bra and skirt. There was a slight hesitation, then she slid her panties down over her chubby bottom and creamy thighs, and stood before him naked. Though he had regularly seen her naked, she felt heat rising to her cheeks, her embarrassment manifesting in a sudden blush. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, stared down at her toes then began fidgeting with her fingers. Feeling the power of his gaze burning into her, she looked up.

Their eyes met in a perfect harmony of submissive green and dominant blue, then Leo glanced meaningfully at the pile of discarded clothes on the floor by Emily's feet. Meeting her gaze again, he raised an eyebrow. Knowing what was expected of her, Emily bent to pick up her clothes, folded them neatly, and set them on a chair. She watched nervously as Leo pulled out a straight-backed chair and sat down on it.

Chapter One
Ashley jotted down another note in her little pad as she again slowed in her pace. While she loved walking the streets of New York City, she'd long ago learned not to rush when she was distracted. It always ended in a bump, a trip, or someone getting a foot stepped on.

"Ashley, come on, keep up," Keiko said, grabbing her by the elbow.

Looking up, she pocketed the pad. "Yes, sorry, just-"

"I know, just another story idea. Shit, what, you going to write the next great American novel? Forget that for tonight. This night is about dirty nasty fun!"

Ashley let out a squeak. "Keiko, just how wild a club is this?"

"Relax, it's nothing you can't handle. The mild stuff is the same shit we've been doing since high school."

"Mild? So, that means there's... other stuff?"

Keiko nodded. "Yes, but it's strictly voluntary, okay?"

"Well, okay."

She quickened her pace to keep up, even as her heart did likewise - and not just from the physical exertion. No, that was mild, and she was in great shape. They both were. Keiko and Ashley were two of a kind. Born and raised in a quiet coastal town of Connecticut, they'd been BFFs since grade school. Now recently graduated from college, they shared a tiny apartment in Manhattan, and Keiko was determined that they should live life to its fullest. Given that they were both petite, blonde, and had firm curvy builds, dating was never a problem. Although Keiko always seemed to have a slight edge in that department, Ashley attributed that to her Asian features and killer legs and ass. She was slightly taller than Ashley too, but at four-eight almost everyone was taller than her! Yet, there was still something missing in their lives, hence this expedition. Still, the prospect of going to a BDSM/fetish club filled her with nervous energy.

They finally reached it, and she was surprised - it was an elegant-looking brownstone. She thought sure it would be some hole-in-the-wall dump hidden away from prying eyes. The doorman checked their ID and then ushered them into the main atrium.

"So, some fancy lobby, huh?" Keiko whispered, slowly turning around.

"Girl, this is way too fancy to be a lobby. This is a foyer!"

"Keiko, how nice to see you again," a booming woman's voice said.

Ashley turned and cringed, letting out a little squeak. A mountain of a woman was approaching them, and Ashley didn't need an introduction to know she was the mistress or madam, or whatever the title was, of the house. Her long flowing black gown hugged every curve of her incredible Valkyrie figure, and she was head and shoulders above them. Given the strength and girth to her arms, Ashley estimated she could easily hoist both of them aloft.

Keiko extended her hand to her.

Bruce headed for his front door, his shoulders slumped, and a slight tightness in his gut. It had been a long hard day at the clinic. He was feeling very down. On the one hand, he was a good doctor, but on the other hand, he had trouble getting patients. Ever since the changes to the medical insurance laws had pushed most people into an HMO, the old-fashioned type of doctor's office - like his - had suffered.

That was why he now drove a Ford and had to sell the BMW. At least he still had one simple joy in his life: his little baby. Just the thought of her put a spring in his step and got him standing up straight. He entered their modest home and looked at the playpen in the corner of the living room. Ah, yet another disappointment. It was empty.

Damn, that means she's working again.

He was right. The sound of computer keys being typed on was coming from the study. It brought him down, as it made him sad that she had to work. He headed for the study. The sight before him did make him smile. Little Shania, his petite darling, sat there in one of her cute little girl outfits: short skirt, bright green blouse, and a big green bow in her straight ebony hair. Yeah, she might be twenty-three, but she looked all of about twelve.

---oOo---
Shania sat at Daddy's desk. A slight creak of the floor made her turn her head. Daddy Bruce was standing in the doorway. He didn't look happy. She tingled at the sight of him, both from fear and excitement. He was such a magnificent figure of a man. Well over six feet, solid build, sparkling blue eyes, and almost white-blond hair.

"Hi, Daddy, how are you? Yeah, I know, I'm not playing. I'm sorry," she said.

He sighed and stepped over to kiss her on the forehead. "It's okay, baby. But what happened to Nanny Marsha?"

Marsha was the Domme that Bruce had hired to not only watch over Shania while he was at work, but also taken care of his office - schedule patients, file billing, organize the staff and so on.

"Daddy, I caught her stealing from petty cash and your jewelry case. She tried to browbeat me by being all 'I'm the dominant here, Missy.' Well, that's fine when it comes to playtime, but this was theft from my daddy, and I won't stand for that from anyone! I fired her and sent her packing."

"Ah, that's my little girl, always watching out for her daddy," he said and kissed her again. "But, Daddy is home now, and he is feeling stressed, which means...?"

"Daddy needs to de-stress. Yes, sir, I'll go wait for you," she said with a nod.

She plodded off to her playroom.

Prologue
"She's the one." Tarak adjusted the zoom on his console, magnifying the image. He stared intently at the screen, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he beheld her: Selina. Mine. She will be mine. I know it. Certainty bloomed like a bright flower.

The young Comms officer by Tarak's side looked on with interest and approval. "How do you know, Sir?"

Tarak exhaled, his eyes glimmering as he drank her in: petite, dark brown hair swinging in a jaunty pony tail as she walked, big brown eyes blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight, her sweet lips smiling for no apparent reason other than she was happy. Though small in stature, she had curves in all the right places, pert little breasts, trim waist, and a nicely rounded bottom topped a pair of shapely legs, her feet encased in pale pink sneakers, pink laces tied in a floppy bow. She was undeniably pretty, simultaneously managing to look both cute and sexy, alluring and innocent. She was enchanting, exquisite. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Officer Kasa."

An experienced veteran of intergalactic travel, he had never before encountered any female who had evoked in him such an immediate and powerful attraction. From that moment on, his mission to apprehend the renegade Flynn became more than a routine assignment, it became a personal quest, because through Flynn, he could reach Selina.

As The Anastrasis orbited the earth's atmosphere, Tarak stood on the fight deck, deep in thought. After years of waiting, he had finally found 'the one', and relished the prospect of claiming her as his own. "Selina," he whispered, testing her name on his lips. "I am coming. Be ready to embrace your destiny, little one."


Chapter 1 - Thirteen Jericho Place
It was just an ordinary looking house, a modest three-storey end terrace in a block of six, solidly built and unpretentious. Like all the other houses in the row, number 13 Jericho Place had bright white paintwork and a black front door with a brass door knocker. The afternoon sunshine cast a warm homely glow on the row of red brick dwellings, all seemingly identical from the outside.

Selina lived at number 12, bang opposite number 13. The houses on this side of the road were much older and built of stone, blackened with age. The spacious attic bedroom at the top of the house was her domain. It was a fabulous old room, full of character, and it was a pleasure to snuggle down in bed listening to the splats of rain pattering on the window pane, and the twitter of birds nesting in the eaves. She loved its curious walls and cracked ceiling that sloped quirkily in different directions so that it seemed geometrically impossible they should come together in the right way to form a room, and she liked the way the crooked floorboards dipped unevenly by the door, and the creaking sound they made when anyone stepped on them.

Dr Simon Dale glanced at his watch again and frowned. The new temp should have arrived half an hour ago. "Where the hell is she?" he muttered.

As if on cue, the door flew open and a dishevelled elfin-faced diminutive figure barged in, tufts of blonde hair sticking out in all directions like a birds nest, hurriedly applied eye make-up smudged ... and surely that couldn't be a washing care label on the outside of her sweater? It was. The silly woman was wearing it inside out. Simon folded his arms and appraised the late arrival coolly.

"Miss Peters I presume?"

"Um. Yes. That's me. Lucy. Lucy Peters. I-"

"You're late."

"Ah. Yes. I didn't mean to be late on my first day, but my alarm clock didn't go off, or if it did, I didn't hear it. I was up during the night, you see, and I hardly got any sleep at all. The burglar alarm on the house across the street kept going off. They've gone away for two weeks on some Caribbean cruise and-"

Simon threw up his hands and interrupted her tirade. "Spare me your excuses, please. This is not a good start. I have clinic in ten minutes and there won't be sufficient time now to show you how to go on."

"Sorry, sorry. Let me get my notebook." She rummaged through her shoulder bag. "Notebook, notebook ... it's in here somewhere." She pulled out a crumpled wad of tissues, a half eaten bar of chocolate, car keys and a packet of sweets. Her face brightened at this discovery. "Oh, I forgot I had these. I just love jelly teddy bears. The red ones are my favourite. "Would you like one?" She held out the packet.

"No I would not." He glared and pointed to the printer. "Take a couple of sheets of paper from there. I assume you have a pen?"

"Pen. Yes. Pen. Where are you, pen? It's hiding..." She began to scrabble frantically again in her bag.

Simon rolled his eyes. My God. They've sent me a lunatic. "Tell you what - here, take my pen." He handed it over and placed it in her small hand. "Now go and sit down. We don't have much time."

"Right." She scampered over to the desk and sat in the big leather chair, her feet dangling several inches from the floor. Her big liquid brown eyes gazed up at him reverently. He was something, this doctor. Mid forties, silver grey hair with dark roots, dark brows above intelligent hazel eyes, a generously proportioned mouth and firm jaw. Oh my God, she thought. He's sex on legs. She tried very hard not to stare at the rest of him. She needed to concentrate. Get a grip, Lucy. Focus, she told herself.

Simon put one hand to his head. He suddenly felt an almighty headache coming on.

Chapter 1: Going "Home"
Katherine McCullough was a junior from the prestigious private college, Sparton, in Idaho. She was studying biology there, but really wanted to go into marine biology. Thankfully, the school had an internship program where for one semester in your junior year you would fly to Florida, stay with a host family, and work at a marine animal rehabilitation center with other educational exhibits as well, such as an invasive species room. Her job would be taking care of the larger animals at the center as well as the smaller exhibits and taking children on tours and out to seine for macro and micro-invertebrates that could only be found in salt water; this was an experience that was impossible to get in the Great Plains.

It really was a miracle that Katherine had made it this far in life. Her dad had left her mom when he found out she was pregnant with her, and her mom drank herself into oblivion. She found herself in the foster care system at the early age of six, and by age eight, she had to sneak out of her window each morning just to make it to school. Her foster family wanted cheap labor and nothing more. Punishment was lack of food or clothing and the word ‘play’ never entered a conversation. There was no time for play between trying to squeeze in homework and keep up with the chores she was assigned.

When she reached high school her biology teacher saw her potential and adopted her, but by that time it was too late. She had lost out on an entire childhood. She'd never had a birthday party, never played with dolls, never went to the park, was never grounded as she never had anything to be grounded from, and had never been spanked. That was probably the only decent thing about her foster family: they did not hit in retaliation. They just starved their children instead.

Under the new regime of Mrs. Hendrichs, her grades began to flourish and she put her complete all into schoolwork. No discipline was needed. She wanted nothing more than to please this woman who would take a teenager into her house and even give her advanced private lessons at home. By the time she graduated high school it was with honors, and she had a full ride scholarship to Sparton.

Now she waited nervously in the airport terminal. She'd already collected her larger suitcase (plus her carry-on bag) and was looking for her host family, the Meres. Supposedly the two adults were in their lower fifties, and they had three daughters, aged 8 (Sarah), 11 (Athalia, or Talie) and 12 (Chrystal or Chrys). It was a Saturday; the school wanted her to have a couple of days to settle in with her new family before having to start attending classes. She was nervous. She had never lived with a normal family with children who didn't work like sweat shop workers before, and didn't know how to respond to that.

Sergeant Cole Harding first spotted her sitting in a straight-backed chair in the corner of the police station. He couldn't see her face. She stared down towards the delicate hands clenched in her lap and long, thick caramel strands of hair concealed her features. It was the way she swung her plimsoled feet backwards and forwards in clear agitation that made him want to smile. Despite her subdued posture, there was attitude in her demeanour. He would lay money on there being a pout upon her lips too.

"Hey Mike," he called to the front desk officer. "Who's the kid in the corner?"

Mike shook his head wearily. "Shoplifter," he sighed. "Brought in a couple of hours ago by the store owner. No charges being pressed but we can't release her until she tells us who she is, so we can track down the parents."

"She's not talking?"

"Hasn't said a word since she got here."

Cole watched as her little jean-clad legs kept swinging. Had she been taller, her feet would have scuffed the ground with each swing but she was so tiny they cleared the floor by a good couple of inches.

"What did she steal?" Cole asked.

"A comb and a bar of chocolate."

Cole's mouth twisted with wry amusement. "Hardly grand larceny. Nothing a good spanking wouldn't sort out."

Mike nodded. "As un-PC as it is, I agree with you - which is probably why the little madam won't give us her name. I dare say her parents might think a smacked bottom is in order."

"I'll have a word with her," Cole decided.

"Aren't you finished for the day?"

Cole shrugged. "Yup but I've got nothing to rush home for."

Mike frowned. "You've been divorced over a year now, mate. It's time you started dating again."

"I'm enjoying my freedom," Cole announced, but in truth he had yet to meet a woman who interested him enough to want to get back in the dating game. He had very specific kinks and desires. His brief marriage had been an attempt to conform to the norm of society but it had proved a disaster. Krista had been as beautiful and vivacious as she was independent. She had rapidly grown to resent his attempts to nurture and protect her, whilst Cole had been left feeling frustrated and surplus to requirements. Within a year of taking their vows they had parted ways amicably but with a shared sense of relief that it was over.

He walked across the small station house, stopping in front of the little girl, far enough away so that she didn't kick him as she swung her feet, but close enough for his large black shoes to intrude upon her downcast vision. For endless seconds her head remained stubbornly bent as she attempted to ignore his presence. Cole folded his arms and waited.

Daisy walked to work every day, always taking the exact same route out of habit. But one Monday, she did things differently. Noticing a big white shaggy dog on the opposite side of the road, she couldn't resist crossing over to stroke it. But as soon as she reached it, the dog barked joyfully, wagged his tail and bounded away, pausing every few paces to turn and look at her, making sure she was following.

"You want to play, boy?"

The dog barked again, his tail thumping energetically from side to side, his head cocked expectantly. Daisy grinned and hurried after him, but though she ran as fast as her little legs would carry her, she never quite managed to catch up with him. The dog clearly thought this was great fun and he hurtled along at a furious pace, then turned the corner and disappeared from view. Daisy scampered after him. She reached the end of the road and then made a left turn into a little side street.

There was no sign of the dog. A loveable but fickle beast, he had lost interest in his new playmate when his nose picked up the delicious aroma of fried bacon emanating from an alleyway nearby.

"Hey! Where are you?" The side street was empty save for a few parked cars and a woman pushing a baby buggy. "Here boy," called Daisy, scanning the shop doorways, wondering where he had got to. Sighing, she was about to head back the way she had come when a brightly coloured green and gold awning caught her eye, and below the awning was a tall display stand. Around the borders of the stand were colourful pictures of teddy bears, balloons and rag dolls, and the lettering in the centre read: Tennant's Toy Store - Now Open! All visitors welcome.

"Oh, wow!" If there was one thing Daisy loved, it was toys. She headed towards the shop and peered in through the window. She was greeted by games and bricks, dolls and bears, roller skates, kites, craft kits, and all manner of cuddly toys. "Awesome," she breathed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. She had to go look inside. She just had to.

So imagine her disappointment when she tried the door and found it locked. Pouting adorably, she peeped through the letterbox, hoping to see a member of staff who would open up and let her in.

"Well hello, little one," said a voice from behind her.

Whirling round, she looked up into a pair of inquisitive and intelligent deep brown eyes. A man smiled down at her. She smiled back. "Hello. I was just ... looking..."

"Through the letterbox. Yes. I saw you." The man grinned. "I was just about to open up. Want to see inside?"

"Hell yeah! That would be great," enthused Daisy.

The man produced a key from his pocket. "Your wish is my command, little princess." He inserted the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.

Sophie drew many admiring male glances as she settled down with a cup of coffee in the bustling university refectory. With her waist-length blonde hair worn in two long pig-tails, she looked cute as a button. She was pretty, with a dainty nose covered by a light smattering of freckles, and an expressive doe-eyed gaze complemented by a sensual mouth, rose-hued lips curving into a smile. At only 5 ft 1 she was of diminutive stature, but she had curves in all the right places, accentuated by her figure-hugging blue jeans and a clingy cap-sleeved top in sugar pink.

At this hour of the morning, the refectory was busy. Students came and went, chattering and laughing with friends. Chairs scraped on the polished wooden floor, and the clatter of cups and plates and cutlery added to the hubbub. Sophie ignored it all. She zoned out, her head filled with the image of Him. Her feelings for him were more than attraction, deeper than infatuation. He was devilishly good-looking in an understated way, and that was part of the allure - but what really appealed was his intelligence and his sheer physical presence. He was a man very much in control, confident without being arrogant. And when he looked at her with those smouldering green eyes and smiled that intoxicating smile of his, she felt her bones melt and there was not a darn thing she could do about it. At 24, she'd had several satisfying and fun relationships, but they all paled into insignificance when compared to her feelings for this man. And the worst thing was that he didn't know how she felt, and most likely never would. She sighed and sipped her coffee, deliberately pushing away the intrusive thoughts as her friends approached her table - four boys and three girls, working together for the past three weeks on a group project.

After the initial greetings, conversation focused on coffee and jam-filled doughnuts, which were being consumed at a rapid rate, but it wasn't long before someone changed the subject and they began to talk about Him.

"I used to hate Monday morning's," said Hannah, chewing happily. "But not any more! Not now we have the professor to look at for two whole hours. Bring it on!"

"That man is sex on legs," agreed Charlotte. She grinned at the prospect of his lecture. She was often late for lectures, but was never late for a class taught by the handsome Professor Jack Drummond.

"I wonder if he knows we've all got the hots for him?" mused Hannah.

"Of course he knows - given that all you lot do is stare and simper and flutter your eyelashes at him," said Mike accusingly.

"Jealous are you, Mikey?" Charlotte poked him playfully in the ribs.

"Jealous? Of that old fart? No way!"

"He's not old. I bribed Glenda in Admin to look up his date of birth. He's forty-three."