LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

1. Starting Summertime Spankings at 13
On June 10th of my 13th year, I decided to act.

Summer vacation had just started for me the week before.

Mom went to work that morning, but Ryan - he's my step-dad - worked on his computer out of his office at home. Ryan's got this really cool job. He makes a lot more money than Mom and he doesn't even have to go to work! Ryan sort of keeps an eye on me during summer vacation, but he's pretty laid back.

"Ryan?" I asked awkwardly. "Can I talk to you about something?"

My step-dad looked up from his computer screen and smiled. "Sure, Gracie, what's up?"

I hate when he calls me 'Gracie', but I had a favor to ask. So I let it slide.

"I was just thinking," I began, not really sure where the conversation would take me, "now that I'm a teenager and all, maybe we could change some of the rules around here."

I mean, my 13th birthday was three weeks ago, so that makes me a legal teenager, right?

"Have you talked to your mother about this?" he asked, reaching out to pull me down to sit on his lap.

---oOo---
Ryan became my step-dad when I was 11, but I felt close to him, even from the start.

Maybe that's because my real dad left when I was five.

Ryan's the only dad I've really known.

And besides, my step-dad's kind of mellow, which makes it weird that he married Mom.

My mother is totally hyper and an emotional bitch on top of that.

But I've never understood why parents end up with each other.

---oOo---
"No, I can't talk to Mom just yet," I replied. "I kind of need your help. You know that boy? Mark Hainsworth? From down the street?"

"The one you've been pining over ever since he moved in?" Ryan laughed, squeezing my shoulders. "What about him?"

"Well, he finally introduced me to his Mom and dad. They're kind of - well - Christians. I mean, really REALLY Christian. Crosses all over the house. They sort of have this set of rules on the wall."

"I see," Ryan replied, noncommittal.

"And they've even got this big blue paddle hanging right there in the family room where everybody can see it," I continued, my words poring our faster now. "And you know what?"

He smiled and shrugged.

"They STILL spank Mark with that blue paddle, right on the bare behind!" I exclaimed. "I couldn't believe it when he told me. But his mom says it's true. You know, Mark's almost 15."

"Some Christians are like that," Ryan agreed. "But what's that got to do with us?"

"Well, I sort of told them that my mom's not strict at all," I said, looking away. "So you handle the discipline."

The Lesson
Elmhurst Academy was a private high school dedicated to high standards in education. The founder had come to the U.S. from England and, discovering the public education system did not meet his requirements for his own sons, he had established the institution in the traditions of a strict English boys' school. But after the elder gentleman's passing, the school had gradually become a bit more modern and liberal. It had become co-ed and now the faculty and Board of Directors, as well as the student body was an almost equal mix of genders.

One thing had not changed: students were expected to be well-behaved and respectful. And no student was admitted unless his or her parents gave permission for that expectation to be enforced with a cane, strap, or paddle on the backside of the errant pupil.

But now there was a new development. The school year had just started when the aging headmaster, who had occupied his position for many years, was suddenly forced into retirement due to health problems. And when the Board of Directors needed to quickly select a replacement, the most qualified candidate was a much younger educator. But though only twenty-eight years old, the applicant had a PhD in Education, stellar references, and an excellent record during the past two years as assistant principal at another high school. Her name was Miss Karen Wood.

A couple of the older men on the board were concerned about choosing a woman. As administrator, it would be her duty to administer corporal punishment to the male students as well as the girls and that might be a problem, they said. The women on the board stifled that sexist objection, pointing out that the headmaster had been punishing the girls as well as the boys ever since the school became co-ed; so what was the problem? A woman could swing a cane just as well as a man and if those who raised the objection had any doubt of it, they would be happy to provide a personal demonstration.

The school was abuzz with rumors. It was said the headmaster was going to be replaced by a woman. And a young woman at that! The girls were ecstatic. They felt they had been discriminated against and would have someone more on their side. The boys had mixed emotions. Some thought it would be great. Others weren't so sure. On the morning the new administrator was scheduled to arrive, several of the senior boys were standing outside when they saw a car they didn't recognize pull into the headmaster's parking space. They stared in amazement as the occupant got out.

"Oh, My God!"

"That can't be her! Can it?"

"No way! She's not old enough."

"She is fucking gorgeous!"

"Are you sure that's not a new student? Maybe she just parked in the wrong place."

"THAT'S the new headmaster!?

Old Faithful
"Hold it right there, young lady!"

Allison Conway froze in shock, eyes swiveling towards the kitchen door. A cold finger ran the length of her spine. She knew that tone, recognized the naked anger in her father's voice. It was a tone she had come to fear over the years, one she'd learnt to treat with the utmost respect. Her pulse leapt into overdrive as the adrenalin hit her bloodstream. She'd been caught sneaking in through the back door, and now she was in trouble.

Literally breathless with surprise, Allison turned to face the tall, brooding figure looming in the doorway. Jason Conway stood with his hands planted firmly on his hips, face simmering with rage and relief. Relief because his wayward daughter had finally arrived home; rage because it was two-thirty in the morning. He loomed in the doorway, staring down at her in slow-burning contempt.

"Where have you been?" Jason demanded, his words slicing the air like a razor. Allison flinched like a frightened child, her mind whirling with panic. Jason wasn't just angry. He was utterly furious. His eyes glittered with emerald fire, and his mouth was a taut red line.

Allison could almost feel the heat radiating off him in blistering waves. She wavered before that scalding gaze, frantically searching for an excuse, an escape route, some pretext by which she could evade imminent justice. Nothing much came to mind.

She'd been caught red-handed, after all. All her lies and schemes and covert little deceptions had come to nothing: Jason had snared her with an almost dismissive ease, laying the trap with the confidence of long experience. What had she been thinking, creeping through the kitchen like some rank amateur? Jason Conway was a predator, patrolling his territory like a hungry barracuda. Allie had seriously under-estimated her Father's considerable intellect, and now the mistake was going to cost her. Dearly.

"I assume you realize what time it is," Jason said, striding into the kitchen with a menacing, determined step. "I've had the police out looking for you since midnight, Allie!"

"The police?!" Allison cried, her voice high and thin, "Daddy, you didn't -"

"Yes I did. They weren't terribly impressed - and neither was I. I've warned you before about your curfew. Ten-thirty by the latest - no exceptions." He halted two paces from the girl, his lean, pantherish figure framed in a rectangle of fluorescent light. His glare could have felled a Minnesota Bull.

Allison wilted in open dread, knowing what was coming next. "B-but it w-wasn't my fault, Daddy", she stammered, falling back from that livid, unforgiving gaze, "I just d-didn't -"

"I don't care what your story is, young lady!" Jason cut her off, voice rising by at least two decibels. "If you're late, you call home! That's the rule, Allie - and you know it." Which was true.

The Trouble with Amy
Jack answered the call on the third ring, recognising his sister's number, but was shocked to hear Amanda's tearful voice, full of anguish.

"Jack, she's done it again."

Sobs prevented further speech and Jack sighed in exasperation. 'She' was his 17-year-old niece Amy who had been in trouble both at school and at home recently and his sister was at her wit's end!

"I'll be there in 10 minutes," Jack told her and hung up.

He arrived at Amanda's within the promised time and enveloped her in a bear hug as soon as he stepped through the door. Her desperate sobs broke his heart; he had always taken care of his younger sister since their parents' death several years ago. Now he was determined to 'take care' of his misbehaving niece.

"Tell me the latest, Amanda," he urged his sister.

"I just got a call from school; she's been skipping lessons again, not handing in homework. She forged a letter, supposedly from me, asking for leave of absence. Her attitude has been disrespectful, she didn't attend three detentions and her language has been worse than ever!" All of this was said interspersed with sobs.

Jack sighed again; Amanda was due to leave in an hour for a weekend away with friends and right now, she was in no fit state to do so.

"Amanda, I know you've refused to allow me to deal with Amy previously, but you must realise this is the final straw?" he asked coaxingly, hoping she would agree this time.

Her shudder and renewed sobbing confirmed her resignation and she whispered her answer. "Yes... yes I realise I can't let her get away with it any more. I'm ready to let you punish her; will you please?" She looked up at her big brother, trusting him to sort this out for her, so thankful she had him to rely on.

"Very well, here's what we're going to do. I assume you're already packed to leave for your weekend?"

"Yes, I'm all ready," she said with a hiccup.

"Okay, I want you to pack a bag for Amy too; she's going to stay with me for the weekend. She will only need casual clothes, but pack thong underwear and a nightshirt for her. I intend to spank her severely but I want to see skin, so she will need to be wearing a thong to preserve some modesty," he stated sternly.

Amanda gasped in shock, but accepted the outcome as reasonable; her daughter really did need to be spanked and she wasn't capable of doing it herself.

"What if she won't let you?" she dared to ask.

"If she wants to go on the holiday I promised to fund and not be grounded for the whole summer, she will agree to my punishment," he said with confidence. I will ring the school and assure them that she will be dealt with, most severely."

Hearing the key in the front door as she came home from school, he shouted his usual "Hello!" but instead of going straight up to her room as she normally did, she turned into the living room. It struck him immediately that something had to be wrong; her face was pale and she was dragging her feet behind her.

"There's something I have to show you," she said in a thin, flat voice and handed him an inconspicuous little book. She had stuck her index finger between two pages to make it open in the right place. Only when he looked inside, he recognized the little message book used for notes between school and parents. At first he only saw the small notes in his own handwriting from the times she had been sick or was to be excused from gym, but then he noticed a message in a different handwriting in the bottom corner. It continued on the next page, but he got the gist of it before he turned the page.

"Cheating!" he said, "You have been caught cheating on a geography test?"

With a timid smile she replied, "I didn't mean to cheat, but I had forgotten to put my notes in my bag, and the teacher assumed I had them on my desk to cheat."

"That was quite careless at best," he said, "but this note indicates you were not the only one?"

She swallowed. "Yes, no, not quite..."

"Someone I know?"

"Yes... Margrete also got caught," she said and blushed.

"Margrete? Didn't you go to study with her the night before?" A nod was all the answer he got. "According to the note this will be on your report card, and you will probably get a D in geography as you couldn't answer any of the questions after the test!"

She blushed even more and replied, "I really could, but I was so nervous because of what had happened that my mind just went blank!"

"And Margrete didn't remember a thing either?"

"I don't know. Not much, I think."

He looked closely at her. "So you had really studied, then? The only reason you were allowed to go to Margrete the night before was because you were going to study for the test!" She nodded and looked even more unhappy. He suddenly thought of something. "But that test wasn't today, it was yesterday!" He looked down to check the date on the note. "Shouldn't you have delivered this note yesterday?" She nodded. He said, "But then Margrete's mother must already know. I think I'll give her a call."

"No, no, don't do it!" she pleaded.

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because what?"

"Because..." she hesitated. "We weren't at Margrete's that evening. Margrete got a phone call and then we went out to meet..."

"To meet...?"

"Some boys."

"Well, you didn't study then? Perhaps you didn't really know that much geography, did you?"

State Championships
State championships... ah what a joy. Anastasia and I were so anxious to get on the field and feel that rush again; it was hard to wait a whole month! We trained hard the whole month, scoring as many goals as we could, defending as many goals as we could, running until we collapsed. It was great. A month is no time when you're training, but a month lasts forever when you're excited about something. You'd think that they would cancel each other out, but they didn't. So we worked hard and trained and got giddy about the competition. The cool thing was that the coach was no longer mad at me for fighting. She just made me promise that I would not try any of that stuff at the state championships or I'd be kicked off the team for good. I told her not to worry, I'd learned my lesson.

When the week of the championships came around, we had so much adrenaline that we could run twice as long without collapsing and we could do tons more exercises. Our coach made sure that we ate fruit for breakfast every morning by calling us, and if we said that we didn't have any, she'd bring an apple up to school for us to eat. It was pretty cool, being on a team like this, especially with all of the praise we got.

An even cooler thing was that the boys' soccer team was going to Baton Rouge with us. They were traveling in a separate bus, but we were all going to be in the same hotel so we could all go swimming after we won the championships. We had another scrimmage that Wednesday for the school to see, and obviously the boys had stepped it up a bit because we tied this time. I guess that couldn't be a bad thing, as we were both extremely good teams, and the boys were supposed to be stronger and faster than us, so at least they would win the championship.

That Thursday, we went through half of the school day, having our pep rally during 4th and 5th period, then leaving right afterwards with the gym cheering and clapping us on. We had people make a little tunnel for us and as each person went through everyone slapped them on the back, wishing them luck at the game. We came out of there really feeling like the toughest shit in the world, and knowing that if we didn't win the state championships, the people who did were good enough to be professionals.

We had a five hour long bus ride ahead of us. I'd been to Baton Rouge only once before on a school trip for this gifted class I was in. Yeah, when I was in fifth grade I was gifted. Lucky me. Of course, a five hour long bus ride can't be that boring when you're sitting in the back by the window with your best friends surrounding you.

Attitude
As soon as they arrived home, Dan Carrothers sent Vanessa straight to her room. There had been a disagreement earlier that evening, and he'd promised her an extremely painful lesson on the ride in from town. This left no room for doubt on Nessa's part; she knew from prior experience precisely what he had in store for her. Dan's philosophy was simple: the easiest way to settle a dispute was to take his daughter straight over his knee and give her a spanking. Not just a few sharp whacks on the derriere, either: Dan specialized in long, hard and extremely thorough strappings... the kind which invariably left her weeping and breathless, unable to sit down for days afterwards.

Standing in the living room, Vanessa tearfully begged her father to let her off - or at least reduce her punishment to some less severe alternative. The argument hadn't been very serious, and she was sorry now; it would never happen again. She was too old for a spanking, she wasn't a child, she was eighteen years old! None of her friends had to endure parental spankings, it just wasn't right.

"Please, Daddy, not a spanking," she wailed, desperate to overturn the final verdict, "It's not fair, I'm too big for that. You can't spank me like a little girl, you can't!"

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Dan was totally unimpressed by his daughter's rhetoric. He was her father, and as far as he was concerned, she'd never be too old to go over his knee. It made no difference to him that her friends never received spankings. Tonight, she'd be going to bed with a hot, throbbing bottom, and that was the end of it.

"Now - up to your room, young lady," Dan told her, gesturing towards the stairway. "I'll be along to deal with you in a moment."

So Vanessa ran weeping up to her room, already feeling her father's hot, stinging palm-print on her soft, curvaceous tushie. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried piteously, knowing she had no one to blame but herself. She knew her father well enough to realize that disagreements only led to a well-smacked bottom. She listened apprehensively for his inevitable approach, imagining how much it was going to hurt.

Why did she ever argue with him? All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and pay him the respect he deserved. She'd been over his knee too many times to claim ignorance of the law: he'd been spanking her for years now, and she was well aware he had little tolerance for dissent.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. She bit her lip against the oncoming flood of fresh tears, and sat up on the bed, ready to start pleading for clemency the moment he walked into the room.

The Girl Next Door
That 'girl-next-door look'. Chris Freeman had heard the cliché a few times. It referred to a girl with a fresh, wholesome, natural beauty who didn't require a lot of makeup or fancy clothes to make a guy's heart do flip-flops. The rising high school senior might drool over magazine centerfolds, but he knew that when he found the real-life girl of his dreams, she would have that girl-next-door look.

But the phrase didn't have personal significance until the Taylor family bought the house next door. The homes were fairly close together in the quiet suburban neighborhood, and Chris had been wondering what kind of new neighbors they might get. It was a hot summer day in early July when he noticed that the 'For Sale' sign was gone from the front yard. A few days later, a moving van backed up into the driveway and a car stopped in front of the house. It was a brand-new 1970 Oldsmobile, and Chris stepped out onto the porch for a better look. From the throaty rumble of the engine, he guessed it must have the optional 455 cubic-inch Rocket V8, and he wondered why someone would buy such a car in a drab gray color when they could have had a cool red one. A middle-aged couple stepped out of the car. The man was tall and thin, with an aloof look, and Chris felt an instant dislike for him.

Then a girl climbed out from the back of the car, and Chris's heart skipped a beat. She looked to be about his age, with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a really cute face. Her jeans and tee-shirt were just snug enough to highlight the curves of her trim figure. She stopped to look around for a moment as her parents walked toward the house. Chris waved and gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile, and not a goofy grin.

"Come along, Wendy. We have lots of work to do." Mr. Taylor's voice was curt and authoritative.

"Yes sir. Coming, Dad," she replied dutifully. There was a bit of a southern drawl in her lilting voice as Wendy followed her parents toward the front door.

Wendy had been bitterly disappointed when her dad's promotion required him to relocate to an office in another state. It meant she had to leave all her friends behind and spend her senior year at a high school where she would be the new girl and not know anyone. Seeing the cute guy with the wavy brown hair waving from the porch of the house next door was the first positive thing about the move. She might be friendless as she arrived at their new home, but Wendy didn't have to stay that way. She looked over toward Chris and returned his wave with a shy smile.

A Spanking for Abby
Abby walked nervously into the school office and stood at the counter, waiting for one of the secretaries to notice her. They looked like they were all extremely busy and she was in no particular hurry to find out why she had been summoned out of class, so she waited, trying not to bring attention to herself.

It hadn't taken long though before Mrs. Montgomery noticed her and asked, "What do you need, hun?"

"Somebody called me down here?" Abby asked more then stated.

That's when Mrs. Potter, the principal's secretary, looked up and said, "Are you Abigail Levine?"

"Yes, ma'am," Abby replied, frowning at the use of her given name. She hated that name; it was too old-fashioned.

Speaking more to Mrs. Montgomery then to Abby, Mrs. Potter said, "Mr. Murphy wanted to see her. I believe Miss Levine's father is in the office right now and they wanted her to join them."

At the mention of her father, Abby's face turned ashen white! She had no idea why he would be there, but it would have to be pretty serious for him to take time from his busy police schedule to come up to her school!

Giving Abby a half smile, Mrs. Montgomery said, "Have a seat, Abigail, and I'll let Mr. Murphy know you're here."

Abby looked behind her to see four black leather chairs lined up against the wall and chose the one farthest from the principal's office! Plopping down into the tattered seat she wondered how many others had occupied the same worn out chair waiting to be called in.

Fumbling with her fingers, Abby tried to think of a reason why she would be called into the office. There was only one thing she had done that would warrant an office visit and she was pretty sure there had been no witnesses around when she had done it! But she wasn't naive enough to think she had been called down to discuss the weather either!

"Abigail?" Mrs. Montgomery interrupted her thoughts. "Mr. Murphy will be with you in just a minute, okay hun?"

No, it wasn't okay, but there was nothing she could do about it! Wanting to be anywhere but right there at the moment, Abby simply nodded her head and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Besides stewing about why she was there, Abby watched and listened to others as they entered the office for one reason or another. She had been so enthralled by the hustle and bustle of the office visitors that she'd almost jumped out of her skin when Mrs. Montgomery finally called her, telling her that Mr. Murphy was ready to see her.

Abby's eyes automatically shot up to the clock hanging over the counter and noticed that they had kept her waiting fifteen minutes. Who knew what in the Hell they had been talking about during all that time.

1. Susan and Wendy at Home
At the end of the Spring term, Susan Robins returned home from school a little more confidently than she had done before Christmas; that occasion had not been an experience she was eager to repeat. Sue was one of those self-confident, headstrong girls who seem to attract trouble, and during that first term in the sixth-form she had been in and out of detention constantly, and at one point the school had called her parents in and warned them their daughter was heading towards a suspension. The subsequent 'discussion' with her mother in her bedroom proved quite painful, and Susan had promised to change her ways.

Susan's best friend Wendy usually managed to avoid getting into trouble, although when the two of them got into some scrape or other, Wendy appeared more reserved than Susan, and also looked quite young for her age. It was generally assumed that Susan was the ringleader in any prank, so she tended to get most of the blame.

Not only were the two girls in the same class at school, but right from when they had turned fifteen, they had also worked together as 'Saturday girls' at the local Woolworths. That experience had been a bit of a lark, especially when they first started, but now they were planning to leave. Two of their older school friends were off to college after the summer and their old jobs in a shoe shop would shortly be available. At Woolworths, the main perk was stuffing yourself with free sweets from the Pick and Mix counter, but the offer of discounted smart shoes had more appeal to the girls as they got older. Also, working in the shoe shop they were allowed to wear 'normal' clothes, as opposed to the Woolworths staff uniform: a striped dress, with a silly tin badge saying 'Trainee'... and what was worse, at their store, the manager made the Saturday girls and also some junior staff who had joined straight from school, wear white knee-socks until they turned eighteen. He said that otherwise, some girls would wear tights or perhaps even ankle socks and it would look scruffy. He wanted everyone to look the same.

Both sets of parents worked. Susan's were school teachers and so were generally at home during the school holidays. She also had a younger brother, Peter, who was a bit of a pest. They lived comfortably enough and had a large semi-detached house on a leafy avenue in a North London suburb. Susan's father taught science at a mixed secondary school across town, while her mother was the deputy head of a private girls school quite close to home.

St Ursula's, her mother's school, was an old fashioned establishment, proud of its high academic standards and its traditional discipline. Since she was eleven Susan had been regularly threatened with having to transfer there, particularly when she was in trouble at her present school, or if her grades were slipping.

A Teen Reboot of Spankings
I close the front door behind me.

"What was that all about?" asks my matronly mother.

"Oh, that spanking thing? I was trying to help little Ashley and her folks make a decision. I'll tell you this and it's no lie. Thirteen years old is definitely not too old for spankings."

"So you actually went through with it?" asks Mom, sitting down on the couch. "I made a pot of chamomile tea. Like some?"

"Please, with sugar. And yes, we went through with it."

I sit next to her, wincing slightly. She leans over the coffee table to pour the tea.

"Well," she says cheerfully, "were you able to convince Ashley to taste a little of the fruit from the spanking tree? Did she participate in your little demo?"

"Mr. Almond gave Ashley a good, hard one. We told Ashley that her dad would only spank her for a short trial period. But I don't think that genie is going back in the bottle."

"So you think Mr. Almond will keep on spanking Ashley?"

"Yes, it's inevitable. Mr. Almond is way too good of a spanker to ever give up the spanking brush. Mom, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she says apprehensively. "Unless, of course, it's something that will upset me."

My mother has a very delicate constitution.

"After you married Howard, did you guys ever consider maybe rebooting spankings? A teen reboot?"

"A teen reboot? You mean for you? Spank you?"

"Yes, start spanking me like Father used to do."

"No," says Mom thoughtfully. "I can't recall that we ever discussed it. Why?"

I shrug. "When you guys got married, I thought one of you might bring it up. Teen reboots of spankings is all the craze now. Especially with teenage girls."

"I did not know that."

"Yes, I even hinted to Howard once about dads and stepdads of some of my classmates. These girls still get spankings. But Howard just brushed it off."

"Grace, you were almost 12 when we married. You hadn't been spanked in nearly four years. I didn't see the need for a teen reboot of spankings."

"Well, what does Howard think?"

Mom looks at me blankly. "Frankly, Grace, I have no idea."

---oOo---
I tutor 8-year-old Ashley Almond. She lives walking distance from my house.

Earlier this evening, I'm wrapping up my tutoring duties up in Ashley's bedroom.

Downstairs, Mr. Almond discovers that Ashley had done something that he has specifically forbidden her to do. Her parents start arguing.

"What that girl needs is a good, hard spanking!" I hear him declare loudly.

I see the fright in Ashley's eyes.

"Did Daddy just say 'spanking'?" asks my little protégé worriedly. "Is he talking about me?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure your dad is talking about spanking. Did you disobey your father?"

Ashley nods and hangs her head in shame.

Ali sat in disbelief at the Nichols' kitchen table trying to figure out how she got herself in this new predicament! Her school books were lying all over the table and sitting next to her was the most tyrannical, authoritative man she had ever met!! He was far worse then any of her teachers and, believe it or not, worse than Officer Burns!

"Come on, Alison ... start writing," Mr. Pullman snapped, tapping her paper with his finger.

"I'm thinking," Ali replied, making sure there was no sassiness mixed in with her response.

She had already been paddled several times by this horrible man for talking back to him. If he even thought she was smarting back, she'd be bent over the table and smacked on her bare bottom!

She was thinking, but not about her English paper which was what she was supposed to be thinking about. Her mind was on last Friday afternoon. Her father had hardly said a word to her in the truck on the way home, but once they were in the house he had promptly sat her down and proceeded to tell her about how she and Katie would both be spending their two days of suspension the following week.

He explained how there would be two administrators from the Brookhaven Academy of Behavior that would be coming to spend those two days with the girls, in their own homes of course. These administrators would ensure that the girls would complete the assigned work given by their teachers for the days missed, even though the assignments wouldn't count. Their main focus, however, was on the student's attitude and obedience.

Ali was floored when her father told her all about the academy. It sounded crazy. How could there possibly be a real place like that?

He also said that unless she straightened up and flew right, she was going to spend her entire Spring Break at the academy. There was no way she would be spending her Spring break at that place! He could forget it.

Once he was through yelling at her, he had sent her to her room where she'd ended up spending the rest of her day. Her mother brought dinner up to her room, glaring at her the way only a mother can, and her father came in to carry the tray away thirty minutes later.

Her weekend was just as bad. She worked from sun up to sun down, doing odd jobs around the house for her parents, and ate and slept.

She'd basically filed everything her father had said about the academy in the back of her mind, thinking it was all just talk to try and scare her. So when Monday came and Mr. Pullman rang the bell at six in the morning, Ali was shocked.

Her mother came and woke her up, telling her Mr. Pullman wanted her downstairs and ready to work in twenty minutes!

Officer Burns Lends a Hand
Friday night came quickly and Ali was more then a little nervous about leaving the house while under restriction, but she was tired of missing out on everything too.

It was planned that Ali would sneak out as soon as she could and meet Katie and the boys at Jimmy's house which was just around the corner. From there they would all go to Sam's party which was supposed to be the biggest event of their entire year. Sam's parents weren't going to be there, and booze was going to be everywhere; at least that's what Sam had said. They were all excited about going.

Now, Ali was waiting impatiently for her parents to go to sleep. She'd tried being extra pleasant that evening, which wasn't too hard since her sister was gone. She and her parents had had a nice dinner and even watched a movie together on television. As soon as it was over, however, Ali had feigned being tired and had gone up to her room, hoping her parents would retire to theirs soon. Unfortunately, they were staying up later then usual for some reason. It was ten thirty and they were still down in the living room.

She made a quick call to Katie on the hall phone, making sure her parents didn't know, and told her she was still at home, and if she hadn't come by eleven to go on without her. Alex had retrieved the phone from Katie and told Ali to hurry and get her butt over there because they weren't going without her.

After hanging up the phone, Ali had a thought. Maybe if she made an appearance downstairs like to get water or something from the kitchen, her parents wouldn't feel the need to come up and say goodnight before they went to bed. They hardly ever did that any more, but sometimes they did, and with her luck they would choose that night to do it.

Decked out in her nightshirt, Ali trekked down the stairs, and as she neared the bottom step she yawned loudly and said, "Gee, are you guys still up?"

Looking at his watch, Mr. Nichols replied, "It's only ten thirty five. It's not that late."

Mrs. Nichols closed the book she had been reading and asked, "Are you having trouble sleeping, dear?"

"Nah ... I was just reading," she lied. "I'm getting a drink and then hitting the sack. Reading made me tired."

"Well, your father and I are about to turn in too." Her mother smiled, opening her book back up. "I'm going to finish this chapter first."

"Okay ... well ... I'll see you guys in the morning," Ali said as she walked over and gave them both a kiss on the cheek.

"Night, baby." Her father smiled as he kissed her back. "Have a good sleep. Your restriction is almost up."

Curfew, Panties and Lies
The Curfew

Leaning against the front door, Ali waved a last goodbye to Alex as he pulled his little red bug out of the drive and puttered silently down the street. She loved that little car. The fact that it was smaller than most of her friends' cars only made it more endearing to her. And of course she had no car to compare it to because there was no way her parents would ever buy her one. They were so archaic.

After watching Alex completely disappearing down the block, Ali started shuffling through her purse to find her house key. Of course, as usual she found it lying at the bottom. Pulling it out, she carefully slid it into the lock, trying not to make any noise that might wake her parents or little sister. The last thing she wanted was to confront any of them.

Opening the door noiselessly, Ali stepped inside and locked it behind her. So far so good. No lights were on in the living room to indicate that anyone was still up. She knew if her parents heard her coming in they would be all over her for being past her curfew. They always were. Her parents were stricter then most parents. It seemed her friends were always able to do things she couldn't.

Tiptoeing to the staircase, she put her foot on the bottom step just as she saw a light snap on in the room behind her.

Turning her head slowly, Ali saw her father sitting in his lounge chair staring at her with a fury that only he could display.

"Crap," she muttered under her breath as she turned around.

"Young lady, do you know what time it is?" Mr. Nichols asked in a low voice.

She did know the time unfortunately. She was an hour late but it hadn't really been her fault that she was late. No one else had a twelve o'clock curfew and it was too embarrassing to make Alex bring her home before everyone else. She'd rather die first.

"I asked you a question, Alison, and I expect an answer," he snapped after several moments of silence had passed.

Swallowing hard, Ali decided to play the innocent as she choked out, "A few minutes after twelve?"

Mr. Nichols pursed his lips together tightly as he continued staring at his daughter for several long seconds.

"Try again," he snarled, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Daddy, I'm sorry I'm a little late," Ali apologized, walking slowly towards the living room. "We had to go to a later movie because the earlier one was sold out and..."

"Come in here and sit down, Alison," Mrs. Nichols interrupted.

"Momma?!" Ali cried in surprise. "I didn't know you were here too."

"You know your mother can't sleep until all you girls are in for the night," Mr. Nichols replied angrily.

Spankin' Cousins
"Ashley! David! I'm ashamed of both of you! You're cousins, for crying out loud! What's with all the yelling and bickering at each other? You used to be best friends when you were kids and now you can't spend one day in the same house without fighting like cats and dogs. What's gotten into you?"

The two stood side-by-side in the living room of Ashley's house to receive a well-deserved reprimand. Her Dad was tired and irritable from overwork. And this was the third time in just over an hour he had found it necessary act as referee.

A shake of the head. "Sorry Dad, but it was his fault."

An embarrassed shrug. "I don't know, Uncle Robert. But she's the one who..."

"Enough! The arguing and blame game stops now! You were both at fault.

A long pause ensued while Ashley's dad considered the situation. Last time, he had told them to knock it off 'or else'. Now it was time for the 'or else'.

"Ashley, go out to the yard and bring me a willow switch. And be quick about it!"

Two pairs of eyes opened wide and Ashley's jaw dropped.

"Dad!" Ashley cried in anguish. "You can't mean it..."

But the look on his face told her he was deadly serious. Ashley's face flushed red as she walked toward the back door. She had hoped the whippings were over. It had been nearly four months since the last time. Ashley had been trying for a long time to convince her Dad that she was too old to be switched like a naughty child. So far, all it had gotten her was a change in method. Her Dad no longer held her over his lap to spank her. Now, she was required to stand, bend over, and stay in position... with extra strokes if she failed to do so. Sometimes she even had to count them.

Ashley knew what kind of switch her Dad wanted: a relatively small thin one that would allow him to vigorously apply a large number of strokes to produce fiery, itching welts without doing serious damage. She quickly searched the willow tree to find a switch that would meet her Dad's size requirements, but just barely. She stripped the leaves from it as she hurried back inside. The previous time, she had dragged her feet in protest and she clearly remembered the sting of the extra strokes she received for being too slow.

David stood awkwardly, regretting the quarrel with his cousin, and not looking at his uncle as they waited for Ashley to return with the switch. She entered the room with her head down, fighting tears. It was bad enough that she was going to be switched, but now her cousin knew that, at her age, she still received whippings from her Dad. David would tell everyone and she would be a laughing stock.