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Confusion
When the principal's secretary buzzed to tell him Peyton Long was there to see him, John's heart did flip-flops of confusion and he cursed. Why did life have to be so complicated?

There was certainly no confusion down below. His loins stirred with undeniable excitement despite his attempts to suppress it. Just thinking that in mere seconds the young beauty would be walking through his door had his cock swelling uncomfortably in his pants.

What was it about the girl that affected him so? Granted she was gorgeous - an elegant face with startling green eyes, straight brown hair long enough to cover those perfectly shaped and forbidden breasts, and that wonderfully tender smile - but he saw dozens of pretty girls every day. It was part of his job. Why was Peyton so special? Why did she make him lose control the way no other girl could?

With all the others he was a merciless rock. He was 'Mean Meaney', the strictest vice-principal in the long history of Knights Preparatory. He was renowned for the length of his cane and his willingness to use it. No heart-shaped face, puppy dog eyes, tears, or curled lower lip would slow his cane. No pleas, excuses, financial gifts - or offers of sexual favors - were accepted. When you were sent to John Meaney, he caned you hard and you slunk from his office in tears.

There was a gentle tap on his door and it swung open. John caught his breath. Peyton wore a light spring dress of white with a denim jacket that managed to be casual and elegant at the same time. She looked as delicious as a picnic, and he felt a surge of forbidden desire. He locked his jaw in a grim expression and rose stiffly, his frown dour and his eyes like knives.

"You again?" he spat. "Didn't I just thrash you two weeks ago?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Peyton said humbly, her face hot with pink shame. She bowed her head low. "Principal Lemasters said you may discipline me additionally if you feel it is appropriate."

"Ah, did he now."

John took the scarlet punishment form from the girl and studied it. It stated her name (Peyton Long), age (18), crime (absenteeism), and the recommended correction (12 strokes).

"Then we will add on six for being a perpetual offender," he growled, throwing the note in feigned disgust onto his desk. Inside, he was thrilled. Last time it had been a mere eight for being off school grounds at lunch without permission. He'd managed to up that to ten, but how he'd longed to truly beat this young lovely. She took the cane so well, brave and composed, without all the fuss of most girls, and her fully mature bottom was a joy to punish. He could hardly wait to administer a stout eighteen!

It was a somber Peyton who removed her jacket and folded it neatly into a stack by the door.

Prologue
Driving always calmed him down, so by the time he found himself in Scottsville, Jeff Kincaid had made a decision. He was going to leave home, the family farm to be precise. He had to get out on his own because the continual fighting with his brother was too stressful on everyone. It wasn't good for him, Paul or his parents. Paul was always right even when he was wrong, and he made life miserable for those around him if he didn't get his way.

The Willamette Valley was one of the most fertile valleys in Oregon. He knew he could make his own farm a success if he only had the chance. He loved farming and, having grown up and been working on a farm from the time he was ten along with the agricultural classes he had taken in college, he knew what he was doing. Money, however, was a problem. He couldn't afford to buy land so he'd have to look to lease. Even leased land was expensive, but if it was meant to be he knew he would find the right acreage and situation.

Having settled his mind, he was looking for a place to turn around and head back to Lewiston when he noticed an open field. From the looks of things, it hadn't been planted in crops in some time. He wondered if it would be available for lease. There was no sign, but he noticed a driveway and turned the wheel.

Little did he imagine how that simple action would affect the rest of his life.


Chapter One "C'mon in, Joel, the door's open," he heard as he stepped out of the car in front of the house.

"Now how did you know it was me?"

"How I always know. I know the sound of your car, haven't you figured that out yet?"

"Oh, I thought you were going to tell me you saw me."

She giggled at his remark. "Well, if I did, you wouldn't believe me anyway, would you?"

"Probably not."

She giggled again.

Chyna Minton had lived in the same house since her birth twenty-six years ago. She knew and loved every inch of it, inside and out. The house belonged to her great grandmother who had passed it down to her daughter, Evaline Miller. Evaline married John Arden and they had a daughter, Emma, who married Steven Minton. Emma and Steven Minton were Chyna's parents. The women who lived in this house always outlived the men, and so Chyna was raised by her great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother. All were now gone with Emma Minton's passing last year. Her passing raised all kinds of flags in town.

Scottsville was a small community of thirty-five hundred people, give or take one or two, and most knew and cared for each other. Some residents feared for Chyna now she was alone in her home; her neighbors wanted to be sure that she didn't want for anything.

Miss Kessler featuring Miss Kessler
Miss Kessler glanced at her small gold watch. There was certainly no one else at St Edwards preparatory school for boys who would have dreamed of wearing such a watch. It cost nearly as much as an ordinary schoolmistress would earn in an entire term. It was no wonder that amongst themselves the boys referred to her as Her Ladyship. Undoubtedly, she possessed an aristocratic air. What she was doing teaching at a rather down at heel boys' boarding school no one could properly understand as she seemed from another world entirely. No one could remember her ever being flustered or losing her poise. It was as if everything was always arranged for her satisfaction. Occasionally, boys were foolish enough to displease her which then meant they had to learn just how unwise that was. It was no wonder that despite her relative youthfulness the governors of the school had appointed her as Headmistress the previous term. It was a meteoric rise but one she took completely in her stride.

Again she looked at her watch. Where was that boy, Pearce? The dormitory monitor had been sent on a most important errand. In the distance she could hear the sound of his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he approached. He knew he would incur an extra punishment if he arrived as much as a second over the deadline he had been given; the Headmistress was an absolute stickler for punctuality. In the dormitory there were eight beds, one of which was occupied by an angelic blond-haired child called Bradley who was cheerfully reading a comic. The other six boys were stood in a line as if taking part in a military inspection. All six of them looked in contrast to Bradley extremely miserable as if they knew that something unforgettably painful would happen soon.

They had all (except for Bradley) been caught red-handed participating in a rather wild pillow fight. Evidence of this outbreak of hooliganism, as Miss Kessler severely termed it, could be seen by the piles of feathers scattered on the floor. At least two of the boys' pillows had burst. It was peculiar, she felt, how whenever she caught the boys of this particular dormitory misbehaving, Bradley was always engaged in some completely innocent activity. It would appear that Bradley was an exceptionally well-behaved child although somehow she doubted the evidence of her own eyes. Maybe it was her feminine intuition or perhaps it was the simple fact that he had at first, until she had drawn his attention to it, been reading his Beano upside down. Anyway, the important fact was that yet again Bradley had not been caught and would escape the caning that all the other boys would deservedly receive. It would be six of the best each plus an extra two for Pearce, as he was a dormitory monitor.

1948: Aunt Jane's Rules
Things could be difficult when four women had to share a house. And it was all the more difficult when it was Aunt Jane's house and she got to make all the rules.

Like so many women of her generation, Jane had never married. Amy sometimes conjured up a long lost love for her: a dashing captain who never returned from Flanders. Maybe there was such a man, but if Jane ever had such a past she kept it firmly to herself.

Jane was the last of the Edwardians, or so she styled herself. She'd even had a governess back in the day, or so she said. And in her day, girls knew their place.

Girls. There was the other thing. A woman was someone who came in to do the washing and cleaning. A lady, such as she, kept a house. All other female persons were definitely only girls. Even Amy's mother, Mary, who was almost 37.

Mary had brought Amy to live with her Aunt Jane in late 1946. The war was over and it was obvious even to Mary that her husband was never coming home. The house had gone in 1940 and since then Mary and Amy had shared an ever-changing set of temporary digs.

The other 'girl' in the house was Tommy. Tommy, whom Jane insisted on calling Thomasina, the name her parents had saddled her with, was another of Jane's nieces, Mary's first cousin. But at least Tommy was used to Aunt Jane's ways, having lived with her since 1936, when she was 16.

In the war, Tommy had served with the WRNS. The post war housing shortage had brought her back to Jane. She always said that the navy was not half as tough as living with Aunt Jane.

It was the first week of 1948 and 19-year-old Amy was learning that she was not too old for a spanking.

Amy had been brought up on spankings. With her father away and the world falling about their ears, mother had had no time for 'nonsense' as she called it. But things had eased off in that department until they came to Jane's. Thereafter life had taken on a distinct edge, and some days Amy could not even bear to look at a chair.

"Amy Louise Jones, you come with me this instant!" Her mother had set her jaw in that way that said she meant business.

"Ouch kid, your tail is toast," Tommy grimaced sympathetically as she slouched in the armchair. But despite her jocular manner, she unconsciously sat up straighter; no doubt Mary's scolding tone putting her in mind of Aunt Jane.

Amy sighed and walked with leaden steps to the kitchen where her mother was waiting. She hated the kitchen at times such as these. At least in the old days mother had taken her to her room.

"Mummy I..."

Chapter 1: A Mistake at Work
Cerise (Cherry) Stone strode through the small parking lot of the Connecticut fabrication company, a small specialty machine shop where she was the office manager - which meant she worked for the sole owner of the facility as secretary and bookkeeper. Sliding the big metal doors aside just to enough to walk onto the shop floor, she could sense the work slow to a grinding halt.

"Morning, Cherry!" one man yelled out over the sound of the drills and grinders and suddenly a chorus of morning greetings echoed in the big metal shop.

Cherry could feel the admiring gaze of all the guys on the floor as she waved her acknowledgment and strode purposefully to the stairs that led up to the office.

Work did not stop, nor did the guys on the floor yell out their greetings because she had some power in the small company, or because she had any real influence. They all stopped when Cherry came in because of the stairway. It was a long metal stairway that led up one wall to the office which was about a story and a half above the busy shop floor. It was exposed all the way up ... and all the guys wanted to watch Cherry climb the stairs.

Whether Cherry wore the skin tight jeans she now had on, or the occasional tight, short skirt when she was really in a teasing mood, did not matter. The guys on the floor, young and old alike, all stopped to admire the rolling motion of Cherry's bottom cheeks as she took step after step up the long set of stairs. Cherry loved the attention and her day always became better than it started when she felt the admiring gazes on her behind. She knew they were silently stripping her in their minds, imagining her naked bottom as she ascended the stairs, and the thought gave her a thrill.

Once in the spartan offices above, the noise of the metal working resumed to full pitch. Cherry flipped on her PC, stepped over and made a pot of coffee and once it had finished brewing made two cups of regular coffee. 'Regular' coffee in Derby, Connecticut was considered coffee with milk and two sugars. More than one visitor discovered this the hard way when passing through.

Setting one coffee on her desk, she took the other one in to her boss, Anthony Manchisi, who gratefully accepted the foam cup of coffee, sipped it and said, "I thought you'd never make it in."

It was a running joke between them and Cherry was actually right on time. Anthony had a need for morning caffeine and a lazy streak that made him wait until Cherry came in and made the coffee. Anthony was an OK boss. He never really hassled Cherry about anything after he took over the business when his father died several years ago.

Anthony Sr. had hired Cherry as a favor to her father and it was one of the favors he had never regretted.