LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

By the Hand of the Devil
The Devil Made Me Do It

In the corner of the churchyard, with a least another two hours work to do, Old Tom rested for a moment to watch Melanie Griffiths walking through. She didn't see him as he was partly hidden away in the shade, but he saw her alright. Every man in the village saw her; she was the girl of their dreams. Pretty in looks with a lovely figure, she had a lovely nature to go with it; sunny, happy and willing to help anyone at any time. Now she was wearing a summer dress that ended well above her knees making a feature of her perfect, long, summer-brown legs; the short sleeves made an equal picture of her arms while the thin dress allowed her bottom and breasts to be shown to their best advantage.

"I can't do it," he whispered.

"You must," the voice hissed in his ear. "Now is the perfect opportunity."

A weather-beaten man in late middle age but strong from a life time of manual work, he now moved quickly up behind Melanie, catching her just as she passed the bench with the inscription: In Memory of Giles Alexander who loved this spot. Seizing her and sitting on the bench, he flipped her over his knee, raised the short summer skirt and pulled down the lemon yellow knickers, exposing a perfect bottom, white against the light tan of her legs.

Now he hesitated at the sight of her bare bottom, not because Melanie's screams and cries were disturbing him, but because he knew he shouldn't be looking at her bare bottom, it just wasn't right.

"Spank her hard. Do it!" the voice hissed peremptorily in his ear.

Smack! His hand smacked down hard on her bottom, making it ripple and turn red. Melanie's yell of shock, anger and pain made his eardrums ache. His hand smacked down again and he lost his hesitation and reluctance in the sheer rhythm of spanking her pretty bottom. Poor Melanie, her struggles were in vain for he was a strong man and his work-worn calloused hand was very good at spanking her soft and tender rear. Smack! Smack! The sound of the spanking was eclipsed by her screams, wails and very soon her pleading.

"Oh stop. Stop, what have I done to you? Stop please stop. You're really hurting me."

---oOo---
The Rev. James Lundy had been in the church praying when the screaming started. He was earnestly at prayer because he was very shy with women and desperately wanted a wife. He really liked Melanie Griffiths, but every time he met her he became quite hot and bothered and lost the power of speech. Now the screams ended his prayers and he rushed from the church, wondering what was happening.

Caroline's story
I was the canteen manageress at a very old established, traditional, semi-independent boys' grammar school in the sixties, very happy in my job, and fully intended to remain there until my retirement. However, one day an incident occurred which was so serious it nearly led to me losing my job.

It was a busy Monday morning and our annual audit was due. The Bursar, Mr Eric Williams, a very precise and pedantic semi-retired chartered accountant, had requested the canteen annual accounts, and I was in my office double-checking and entering and filing the latest invoices.

I had delegated kitchen responsibility for that week to my supervisor Maggie Jones, a capable organiser but a rather uninspired cook, who was in her mid-forties. At least I knew she would never take risks or allow bad practices.

The senior cook was Jackie Dawson who had only recently moved into the neighbourhood after being tragically widowed by an unfortunate accident. She was a superb and very experienced cook and produced inspired and delicious meals on our miserable budget. I had been extremely fortunate that, due to a personal tragedy, she had left her previous job as a chef and, after a gap at home, had looked for a less demanding position, eventually choosing ours. Her main course menu was an enormous improvement on Maggie's uninspired but edible and filling school stodge, although Maggie was a superb pudding cook. The only irritant was that the bursar was able to say 'I told you so, a shilling per portion is quite adequate if you know what you're doing.'

Another recently arrived employee who worked in the kitchen as a general help, mainly doing the cleaning and washing-up, was a young and very pretty Irish girl called Siobhan Fitzpatrick who had just come to England and was living with her aunty. She was a very willing and hard worker, but hadn't been well educated by the nuns. We were soon to discover just how lacking her education was.

I had approved the week's menu and budgets and was concentrating completely on the last quarter's accounts when Maggie suddenly burst into the room and shrieked, "Come quickly, Caroline, something's gone badly wrong!"

I put my pen down and with as much dignity as I could muster I entered the dining hall to find the Headmaster waiting for me.

He directed me to taste a teaspoonful of cottage pie; I carefully took a tiny taste and spat it out immediately. It was so salty it made me gag, and I drank a glass of water.

I looked at him and said as calmly as possible, "A little too salty I think, Headmaster; I shall investigate further."

The Headmaster replied, "A masterpiece of understatement I think, Mrs Brown. However, I shall leave the matter in your capable hands. Please report to me tomorrow morning after assembly. My secretary will phone you to let you know when I'm available."

Episode 1: Home with the Heavers
The 28-year-old English lecturer was lost in her thoughts following her run-in with Mrs. Main, and she had a lot to think about. Her rapidly spinning head was still reeling with the agreement she had made. She was still blushing for God's sake, and at both ends, she thought ruefully.

One more run-in and she would either face public humiliation or very private and very regular intimate submission. She wanted to rail against the world and scream at its injustice, but she didn't feel any sense of injustice. Was that what bothered her most? Oh for sure she could take the college to a tribunal or even sue its ass off at a state or even federal level, but that seemed churlish of her somehow. She had come to Abraham Heights for the adventure and she had found it.

Besides, she somehow doubted that she was the first outsider to run afoul of the town's quaint little punitive customs. It was a cert that it could take care of itself and maybe at greater expense to her interests.

No, she had three choices as she saw it and that was why she had taken an evening walk around town to clear her head.

Firstly, she could try and stay out of trouble, but in her heart she knew that she would fail. That was a strategy she had employed for weeks now and something, probably her little self-saboteurs, was thwarting that approach.

Secondly, she could accept the situation, along with a weekly maintenance spanking and whatever other indignities Mrs. Main had in mind for her. Or thirdly, she could move out.

Donna sighed. The last was obvious, but then she thought of the rows of bare-bottomed college girls and the proximity to all that spanking adventure. She couldn't tell herself that it wasn't what she'd signed on for, it was. Even an experience or two at the hands of some hunk was not out of court. But such regular childish humiliations so close to home...? Her hands stole to her 'home' and rubbed it tenderly. If only... she sighed, and then looked up.

She was in a well-to-do area of town and Donna had taken in the quaint wooded street on a whim. Now she found herself outside a house set back from the others. It was a large home with a yard big enough to hold a ball game. It was certainly the largest on the street, not that its neighbours were exactly small. But there was something about this house that made her stop.

---oOo---
The two young women sitting next to each other on the couch were blushing hard and exchanged glances. No doubt they both felt a nauseous tingle assaulting their stomachs, that and an age-old disconnect that said that it wasn't happening.

The feeling was nothing new to Mindy Heaver.

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.

Paddled by the Pledge Mistress...
or How I Met Your Mother
I'm not going to tease you about the identity of your mother, like that old sitcom. You obviously know who your mother is, so that would be silly. But you don't know the real story of how your mother and I met, so that's what I'm going to reveal.

You heard we met in college and that is true. It was fifty years ago in a very different era. It was the 1980s. Reagan was president. The Internet hadn't happened yet. Hell, most computers were text-based back then. Cell phones were the size of shoe boxes and cost five bucks a minute to use. And back then five bucks could buy you five gallons of gas or a decent dinner, so that was a lot of money.

I'm sure you're thinking all that history stuff isn't too relevant, but you need to understand the era. There wasn't all the politically correct thinking of today. This would never happen today. This was also in Texas, at A&M, where things were a little different even then. Back then, and I swear this is true, I heard guys actually had to fuck a goat in order to get into one of the fraternities. Seriously. It was part of the initiation. Today that'd get you locked up faster than you can say PETA.

So what you're about to hear may sound bizarre and outrageous, and maybe it even is, but at the time it didn't seem that unusual. I'm not saying it was normal - but this kind of thing wasn't uncommon.

I may not remember what I had for breakfast this morning, but I remember everything from that day like it was yesterday. It was a Saturday afternoon. I was twenty years old and not a very serious kid. I partied all the time and didn't have a clue what I wanted to do with my life. On that day I'd been planning on meeting a couple of my buddies to go see a movie, but they'd bailed on me. I'm sure I had studying I could have been doing, but I wasn't about to waste a Saturday afternoon on schoolwork. I had gone to another buddy's place off campus, but he wasn't home, so I was heading back to the dorms, bored as hell and wondering what to do.

I was on the south end of the campus near the Epsilon Theta Zeta sorority house. This was just off the campus property and I remember being annoyed because the place was gated and fenced and I was going to have to walk around it to get back on campus. It was a large house, very old, a collection of several buildings, and I remember wondering if I could cut through to save me time.