LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

1. The Trip
"Tell me about it," Diane purred.

"Again? You're worse than a five-year-old with a favourite story," Jack joked. "You're beginning to sound like my niece."

"Well I'm not five," Dianne purred, nibbling on her husband's ear. "And I really, really want to hear it again."

"So there's this place in Arizona where they've got an institute," Jack said, stroking his wife's hair. "It's for people who have been declared incompetent."

"Declared incompetent?" Diane probed, wanting to hear him repeat details.

"Like Britney Spears was," Jack reminded her.

"People?" Diane probed.

"Girls. Women," Jack clarified. "They can't be minors so that means they have to be over 21 before they can be admitted."

"Admitted?"

"Committed," Jack corrected. "They need a doctor's note and everything."

"Just a doctor's note? That's all it takes?" Diane asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it again.

"I think they need a judge to sign off on it. Or maybe just a public notary."

"And what they do is legal?" Diane enquired.

"It is," Jack confirmed. "State law says that people labelled as incompetent can be treated the same as naughty children."

"Really?" Diane asked.

She knew. She had seen the law. It was a simple, short one:

A parent or guardian and a teacher or other person entrusted with the care and supervision of a minor or incompetent person may use reasonable and appropriate physical force upon the minor or incompetent person when and to the extent reasonably necessary and appropriate to maintain discipline. (13-403. [Criminal Code])

In this case, 'appropriate physical force' meant punishments that were more appropriate to adults than children. Diane thought of them as very adult ones that maintained 'discipline' in the institution.

"Really," Jack confirmed.

"And we get to watch?" Diane asked.

"Not quite," Jack answered. "We get to evaluate."

Diane looked up sharply.

"That's new. What do you mean, evaluate?"

"Didn't we go over this? That's why it's couples only."

"What?"

"Officially, we're evaluating the service. That's the only real reason we'd be allowed to witness it."

"But how? Why?"

"Honey, we went over it," Jack said. "Remember? When we went over the forms?"

"I think I would have remembered that," Diane said sharply.

"We talked about the costumes," Jack pointed out. "We talked and shopped and talked and shopped and..."

"We looked at uniforms and costumes and I still think that I would remember something about it being an evaluation."

"But we went over it being couples only..."

"And that at least one of the couple had to be a woman," Diane nodded in agreement. "But that's to keep it from becoming a sausage fest."

"No, we went over all of this," Jack said. "It's because every woman there is officially there to evaluate the service."

"But..."

"I'm sure we talked about this," Jack said.

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.

Chapter 1 - Mercy Night
"Mercy night?" Natalie stammered, utterly astonished. "But I'm an actress, not a delinquent. I was only supposed to be here for a few days, to research my role."

True. Natalie, a famous American actress secretly fascinated with corporal punishment, had voluntarily enrolled herself in the Goodwood reformatory. "Research," she claimed, and as a method actress Natalie would make any sacrifice required to ensure an authentic performance.

The Headmaster smiled. He knew the beautiful young star was quite disconcerted, but she was so adorable in her reformatory school uniform that it was quite impossible to take her pouting petulance seriously.

"You're going to be here a bit longer than that, I'm afraid," the Headmaster said, feigning regret. "The next Mercy Night isn't until the end of the summer. But that will give you ample time to prepare for your role, and prepare your formal written petition, begging for the Governor's forgiveness."

"Forgiveness for what? I haven't done anything wrong! I'm not like ... the other girls," Natalie said, confused.

"Young lady, I certainly hope you're not attempting to use your celebrity to court special treatment."

"No, sir, not at all. What I meant was, I'm, not a criminal. I haven't done anything wrong."

"True, and I am quite sure that you have noticed that unlike the other students here, you have not yet received the birch, or the cane. This is due to the fact that you have not been formally sentenced to receive such in a court of law. However, as a student you are in the Governor's care. They are charged under the law with reforming you and correcting your moral deficiencies. They cannot release you until they are certain that job is complete."

Natalie looked at him, thunderstruck. "But I was promised that my release would be a matter of routine."

"Yes, precisely. Your release will be processed along with all the other girls, according to the normal routine. Your case will be considered irrespective of your celebrity, with neither prejudice nor undue haste. Thus you will stand in the dock on Mercy Night, and will be judged according to our normal procedures, just like any other girl. You may go now, Natalie," the Headmaster said, shuffling his papers, "and begin working on your Mercy Night petition."

Natalie still had much to say, but even though she had only been in the reformatory for a few days she knew the conversation was over. The Headmaster ignored her and moved onto his paperwork, pausing only to enjoy the sight of Natalie's shapely fanny retreating across the office as she exited his study.

As she walked down the hall, Natalie was awash with a jumble of emotions: surprise, confusion, fear, and (although she hated to admit it) an almost indescribable excitement.

Mercy Night? Could this really be happening? It was too good to be true!

Jodie Browning felt every bit the crisp professional as she crossed the office to greet the headmaster of the Dunbar Reformatory. Although only 25, she was already a rising star at her University, and in her stylish worsted wool blue suit, dressed the part.

"I'd like to thank you for taking the time to meet with me today, Sir," she said, shaking the headmaster's hand. "I've been having a bit of trouble with my Doctorial dissertation, and my department chair seems to think that you might be of some assistance."

"Yes, I spoke with him this morning," the headmaster said, sinking back comfortably into his large leather chair. "Have a seat, Miss Browning."

Jodie sat down on the chair opposite the headmaster. Unlike the headmaster's comfortable perch Jodie's chair was hard and wooden and Jodie fidgeted a bit to find a comfortable position.

"Your chairman told me that you were one of his most promising Doctorial candidates," the headmaster said, looking Jodie up and down. "But he didn't mention what an attractive young woman you are. And so sharply dressed! I am impressed."

"Thank you, Sir," Jodie said, squirming slightly under the headmaster's appraising gaze. "In fact, my doctorial degree is why I'm here. My graduate dissertation is on corporal punishment, but as you know, there aren't many schools that still practice it, and so I was hoping..."

"Yes, your advisor faxed me a copy of your outline draft today. A rather weak start, if you don't mind my saying so. Your conclusions totally lack empirical data and seem to be largely based on your opinions."

"Well, yes, but it's just a rough draft. My advisor thought that if I spent the summer semester here, gathering data, that I would write a paper that would do the subject proud."

"I'm sure you could. Have you ever experienced the strap or the cane?"

Jodie bit her lip and squirmed in her chair, stunned by the casual bluntness of the headmaster's query. "No, Sir, I haven't. I was always... a good girl. I never got into trouble."

"I see. And yet judging from your paper you're obviously curious about the subject."

"Yes, I think my lack of experience is why I'm so fascinated by it. We always want what we can't have. I always wondered what it would be like, but my school didn't believe in it, and it's too late now. Of course, even though I'm too old for a proper school punishment, I still enjoy reading about it."

"No wonder your paper is so thin. Reading a book is a poor substitute for first-hand experience."

Jodie watched nervously as the headmaster opened a large cabinet behind his desk to reveal a daunting arsenal of canes, tawses, and straps. Jodie watched bug-eyed, mouth agape, as the headmaster removed a wicked looking cane from its hook and swished it through the air.

Choices
The Honourable Lucy Beverage looked at the various pieces of paper laid out on the antique Queen Anne table. Each sheet scattered carelessly next to the envelope that had brought them to her door; each as careless as the choices she had made and had yet to make.

Her slender elegant fingers plucked unconsciously at her Gucci silk top as her clear brown eyes peered down her correctly proportioned elegant nose at the documents from beneath an immaculate chestnut fringe.

Lucy was tall for a woman, with an outer appearance of unruffled calm, but inside she felt sick and more lost than she had felt in all of her 32 years.

She was in hock for almost a million pounds and so far her attempts to pay off her debts by writing cheques she could not honour had led to a £10,000 fine and the prospect of 18 months in prison. She shuddered. The very thought of gaol time for her was as bad as the inevitable bankruptcy that would follow.

For a long moment, her life throbbed in and out of focus and an alien emotion flooded her soul. Somewhere in the back of her mind Edith Piaf was singing and Lucy shut her down with an ironic laugh. She suppressed a sob, feeling like a little girl who had scraped her knee and wanted to run to Daddy. But some bridges in life could not be rebuilt, she was in tune with Edith on that one.

The plane ticket her cousin had sent looked like an easy option, but then what? She would still be bankrupt with a prison term hanging over her. She wasn't sure what additional penalties there were for fleeing justice on a forged passport, but she suspected that it might be even more severe than her current fate.

That left her with one other option. She picked up the letter and reread it.

"The Cornwall Institute has considered your situation and is prepared to offer you a place at their alternative punishment centre."

There were very few details in writing, but at an earlier interview she had been told that the alternative on offer included corporal punishment. She had laughed in their face and flat walked out on them. However, one other fact now came back to her. As part of the 'treatment' as they had called it, all her debts would be paid with a low interest long-term loan and any amnesty would include not paying any fines.

"Sometimes money talks," she whispered.

---oOo---
Meanwhile in a seedier part of town, Patsy Kenwood could not believe her luck.

"The Cornwall Institute has considered your situation and is prepared to offer you a place at their alternative punishment centre," she read aloud, adding: "That's those spanking and caning freaks."

Some sort of religious nutters, she didn't wonder. But what the hell, it had to be better than three years inside, even if they did want her to attend some old-fashioned training centre and whack her bum a few times.