LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

June put down her brush and stared at the painting. "Hmmm, not bad, June. Not bad at all." She took a few steps back and critically appraised her work. It looked even better from a distance. Pleased with her efforts, she absent-mindedly reached up to secure an escaped tendril of long golden hair from her face, daubing a streak of indigo on her nose in the process. She smiled. The painting was almost complete and needed just a touch more colour on the dramatic skyline. She picked up her brush, ignoring the loud intrusive ring of the doorbell, and began to mix paint on her palette.

The ringing persisted. With an exasperated sigh she put down her brush and made her way downstairs. Some moron must be standing with their finger on the bell. The top portion of the front door was bevelled glass and through it she could see the outline of someone's head and shoulders. If it was yet another salesman cold calling, he would soon be sent on his way for interrupting her work. She flung open the door, green eyes blazing.

"Hello, June." He smiled at her through a pair of vibrantly blue eyes, taking in her dishevelled appearance at a glance. Her golden hair was secured on the top of her head in a plastic clip, with escaped strands framing her face. She was wearing a snug fitting denim skirt and a paint-splattered blue smock over a black sweater. On her feet were a pair of canvas shoes, both daubed with blobs of paint. "You have a paint smudge on your nose."

"Oh. It's you." She bristled and reached up to rub the smudge away but only succeeded in making it wider, much to the undisguised amusement of the visitor. The insufferable man had the gall to grin at her. One brow arched in that infuriating way he had. It didn't matter that she thought of herself as a confident, poised, 24-year-old woman - he somehow made her feel like a gauche teenager on the defensive.

"Obviously. It's damned cold out here on the doorstep. Are you going to invite me in?"

"No. I'm busy." She gave him one of her best glares and then stood aside as he barged past her and stepped into the hallway. He was already making himself at home by removing his jacket and hanging it on the coat stand at the bottom of the stairs. She fumed inwardly. What an irritating pig of a man.

The irritating pig of a man flashed a gleaming smile. "How's your dad?"

"He wasn't very good yesterday, but isn't too bad today. He's taking a nap. You probably woke him by ringing the doorbell," she said accusingly.

"Oh well, he did ask me to call round at 2pm."

"He's expecting you? He never mentioned it. What does he want to see you for?"

"Yes he's expecting me. I'll go up shall I?" the visitor said, making his way upstairs without bothering to wait for a response and deftly sidestepping her other question.

The Whippings of Miss Elizabeth Caldwell
Listed below are just a few of the rules for women teachers in the year 1915:

- You are not to keep company with men.

- You must be home between 7:00 PM and 6:00 AM unless attending a school function.

- You may not loiter downtown in the ice-cream store.

- You may not ride in a carriage or automobile with any man unless it is your father or brother.

- You may not dress in bright colors.

There are several other rules that applied to the women teachers but they don't apply to this story. They are all interesting, especially since they didn't apply to the male teachers!

---oOo---
"Miss Elizabeth Caldwell you have been found guilty by the school board of Glenview of breaking five rules in your teaching contract and are hereby sentenced to a whipping this Saturday at noon in the old school house. The punishment will be carried out by Mr. James A. Parker, head of the School Board. Do you have anything to say for yourself, young woman?" Judge Harris asked as he looked down at the pretty little schoolmarm standing in front of him.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No Sir."

Frowning, the judge continued, "Well then, you are remanded into your Uncle's custody until your sentence has been carried out on Saturday, Miss Caldwell."

She could still hardly believe this was all happening. All she had done was to accompany Carson Hooper to that little ice cream shop in his new automobile. There they had shared delightful conversation as well as an ice cream sundae together. The next thing she knew she had been brought up on five different charges of breaking her teacher's contract. The whole thing was ludicrous!

But the worst thing of all was the fact that she was to spend the rest of the week with her Uncle Luther. He was her father's older brother and a stickler for the rules. Elizabeth hardly ever even saw her Uncle and his family as they lived out on a farm miles away from Glenview. She herself lived in a small room in the back of Tom Willowby's Boarding House right there in town.

Her Uncle was none too thrilled about housing his niece for the week either. He let her know that right from the beginning. While they were driving back to his farm after the hearing, he'd told her she wasn't just going to be just sitting around doing nothing while she was staying with them. Elizabeth had assured her Uncle that she was a hard worker and had no intention of just sitting around.

He'd also told her she wasn't allowed to see the young man that had gotten her in this mess she was in. She had argued with him a little on this matter but after being threatened with her Uncle's belt, decided to let the matter drop for the time being. The rest of the ride was fairly quiet.

The Recruiters
You wouldn't think that much good could come from a broken clothes dryer. For Donna and me, however, it was one of the best things ever to happen to us. Call it serendipity, if you will, but it was because of our broken appliance that we met Katy.

When I arrived home late that Thursday, Donna was not in a good mood. That's an understatement.

"Here - grab a couple of these," she said, pointing to a few large plastic garbage bags, "We're going to the Laundromat." Not exactly your welcome-home-after-long-day-at-work kiss. A grumpy Donna explained as we loaded up the car how she discovered the non-functional dryer. When she went to transfer a load of laundry from the washer, the previous load was still sopping-wet. Since we were down to so few clean clothes, she continued to run loads through the washer, storing the clean-but-wet clothes in the garbage bags.

"We'll grab some Chinese or something while we're there," she said as we finished piling the bags in the trunk of the car.

The Laundromat was mobbed. Had people nothing better to do? We were fortunate to find even one dryer available, and that was due only to some good timing, as an older Indian woman was just then finishing with it.

We had barely started the first load when Donna poked me in the side, then pointed unobtrusively. When my eyes followed her pointing finger, my jaw dropped. Oh - my - gawd! The backside of the petite woman leaning over to reach inside one of the washing machines across the way was simply marvelous. I'd never tell Donna this, but it was even better than hers. The legs of her shorts, almost as if she had felt someone watching. Her face was no disappointment - cherubic, with upturned nose and framed by tight blonde curls. Definitely worth a go. Donna looked at me quizzically. I nodded.

I made myself busy, first counting quarters, then untying the garbage bags, only to re-tie them again, all the while watching Donna out of the corner of my eye. She walked down to the change machine, inserted a few dollars for some change, and then headed back. Just as she reached Miss Perfect Bottom's machine, she stumbled, and with an 'oops' dropped her handful of quarters onto the floor. I smiled as our quarry immediately squatted to help retrieve the scattered coins. By the time they had been recovered, the hook was set. No one is better at this than Donna.

I had commandeered a second dryer and was folding the first load of clothes when Donna made her way back to me. Although I had kept watch while Donna worked her magic, it was too far away for me to hear what they had been saying, what with all the machines running and all.

"So?"

"Let's see - her name's Katy, new in town, just starting her studies at the university for a master's in art history, recent nasty break-up with her boyfriend."

Chapter One - Perfecting the Machine, Maybe

Dr Arthur James was one of the leading theoretical physicists in the world, and yet at times he felt like a harried father. His partner was Dr Selena Gomey, and she was the cause of both his success and distress.

She'd lured him to her lab with talk of her teleportation invention. What she'd neglected to tell him was that it wasn't perfected. Anything sent through the machine tended to get... well, sort of torn apart and slapped back together. The two had worked together for months on the project, but when progress had not been made in a timely fashion, Selena decided to cut corners. In the last six months, she'd sent dozens of items through without running any simulations. Each time, she learned more, but each time she damaged the machine.

She didn't care. Her only interest was in perfecting her invention. Arthur was losing his patience with her.

"Selena, you really must stop these haphazard tests," he scolded. "Every time you run one, you set us back a month."

"Shut up, Art," she spat. "I think I've worked out what went wrong last time."

"You've said that the last three times," he replied calmly, counting to ten in his head. "For God's sake, just take it slow."

Selena moved to her desk. It not only had her computer and papers, but several of her favorite toys. As she fiddled with them, Art had to grin. God, she could be such a child. He thought of her as the classic stereotype brilliant scientist, and the two of them were a study in contrast. She could design a machine to split atoms, but she'd lose her car keys in her own purse. Where he was tall and powerfully built, she was petite and waif-like. Her height and size were inversely proportional to her intellect. When they went out, on those rare occasions when they took a break, she was routinely carded at the clubs, despite being almost thirty.

His computer beeped. Loath as he was to take his attention away from work, he saw that an email had come in, and he recognized who had sent it. Oh, it could not be good news. He punched a few keys and viewed the message. Yeah, he was right, it was very, very bad news. Chewing his lip, he began pacing about the room.

Selena noticed his distress and put down her Transformer toy. "Art, I sense something is amiss. Care to share?"

"Yes, I do," he growled, and stopped in his tracks. "It seems we're in a bit of a jam."

She laughed. "Oh, that is rich! Okay, I'll bite, what's up?"

"It would appear that some of our less scrupulous rivals have figured out where we are. Well, to be exact, they know we're here in LA, and they're looking for us. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you, Selena?"

She swallowed hard, put down her toy, and took a step back. "Ah no. Why do you ask?"

Family Values
"I don't see why you shouldn't bring your friends over as planned honey. After all it's not your fault." Dana broke off from applying her lipstick for a moment and glanced at her youngest daughter, Dakota, who was standing in the corner.

Freya followed the direction of her mother's look. Darn the little brat she thought, feeling not the least sympathy for her sister's shiny red bottom.

"Can't you just send her to her room?" Freya asked pleadingly.

"You know the house rules honey," Dana said casually, putting the final touches to her make-up. "How do I look?"

"You look just great Mom," Freya said unenthusiastically.

"No I don't do I?" Dana grinned as she checked herself out in the mirror. "I don't look a day over 30."

She didn't as well Freya thought.

"Well 41 anyway, Mom," she said.

Dana leaned over and gave Freya a swat on her behind. It was an old joke with them.

"So are you having the girls over while I'm out?" Dana continued.

Dakota began to pray. She begged fervently to the god of the north wall of their house that Freya wouldn't be so cruel.

"I had better not," Freya sighed.

"Your call. See you later girls." Dana snatched up her keys from the kitchen top. "And Dakota dear. You are to stay there until 9.30 and then straight to bed. I really hope I don't hear that you did anything different."

"You little brat," Freya sneered at her sister bitterly after her mother had gone. "I mean smoking in Main Street? What a dork."

"I didn't know Mom would be out shopping did I?" Dakota's tone was sullen and half-hearted.

"I have a good mind to go ahead with my plans," Freya countered.

It wasn't that she had any sympathy per se, Freya thought. But there was an unspoken agreement between the girls. No friends over when one of them was in jug. After all even though Freya was 20 now, next time it could very well be her in the corner.

The 18-year-old in the corner didn't respond. One word from Freya and her life could become a living hell in oh so many ways. Not least, she could claim Dakota broke out of the corner ahead of time. And there was still the girls' night in.

Once before, when they had been younger, Freya had sent Dakota to her room so she could have a boyfriend over. Even though her sister had another hour and a half corner time to serve. Mom had come home early.

Boyfriend was still there when the spanking commenced and the next two nights had been a bitch for both sisters. No. A postponement was the only safe thing to do.


Dana looked at her watch, just time to finish her evening shopping. Then with one final look at the house she drove off.

Dana always kept a nonchalant air around the subject of spanking in front of her girls, but as she drove away, she was fully aware of Freya's dilemma.