LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Halo Adjustment Services
John stretched aching shoulders, clasping his hands together and pushing them over his head. He knew he was damp with sweat. He could feel his t-shirt plastered to his back as he paused in his work. Hopefully, this was the last time in his life he would be moving. He'd been hauling his stuff into the old Victorian mansion he'd inherited from his grandmother for most of the day.

There was a big office, to the right inside the front door. He intended to run his business from there. He'd already had a post installed next to the mailbox where he could hang his shingle. He definitely wasn't ready to work yet, but he was anxious to get his business sign in place. He actually researched the area and knew there was no one who provided what he did. John was extremely fit for his 40 years and he was getting a thrill knowing someone was watching him intently from the house next door. Flexing again, he turned and went into the house.

Ida watched as the young man who had been lifting and carrying heavy looking boxes and bulky pieces of furniture all day, stretched like a lithe cat, tight muscles and wide shoulders. She might be 85, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate a fine man when she saw one. It must be her friend Hetty's grandson. She hadn't seen him around in quite a few years. Certainly not since Jill had moved in with her.

"Have you seen whoever's moving in, Grandma?" Jill asked, as she walked into the kitchen.

"No, not really," Ida lied.

"I wonder what he does? Is he very old, do ya think?"

"I'm sure we'll find out sooner or later. Maybe you should make some cookies."

Now, her grandmother KNEW Jilly hated to bake. Hell, she rather knit him a god damn sweater than bake cookies. And she didn't know how to knit either. But Jillian also knew that her grandmother expected her to do it anyway.

Ever since Jillian's divorce, when she hadn't had anywhere else to live or any way to pay the ridiculously large amounts of money it took to support yourself these days, she had lived with her grandmother.

So, at 35, Jilly was no longer subjected to the tyranny known as husband. Instead she was at the beck and call of a tornado named Grandmother.

Jilly tied an apron over her sundress, and resigned herself to her fate. Despite what her grandmother thought, she had made chocolate chip cookies a couple of times. After all they had been Harry's favorite, back when she had actually given a shit what he liked. He had driven all thoughts of wanting to please him completely away, when whatever she tried was always wrong, poorly done, or just plain stupid.

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."

He Said/She Said: A Dialogue
"In an elevator? How interesting."

"I think so. It'd be tremendously exciting."

"Yes, exciting. Also a bit risky, don't you think?"

"Of course! That's what makes it exciting."

"Well, yes, I suppose."

"You don't sound convinced. You don't want to, do you?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you're thinking. You're afraid of being caught. All right then. Well, you asked, and I told you."

"We both agreed to share. And really, hon, my hesitation didn't mean 'no'. We'll try it sometime. We will. We just need to find the right place and time. Ok?"

"You promise?"

"Sure. I do. In an elevator. We'll do it.'"

"Thanks, hon. I love you! It'll be great! Ok - now your turn."

"I don't know. Do I have to? You might think it's a little weird."

"Yes, you have to. I told you mine."

"Oh, all right, here goes. I'd like it if sometime... you would... let me spank you."

"Uh, spank me?"

"Yes. I warned you that it's a little weird."

"No, no - it's not weird..."

"... but? I sense a 'but'. But what?"

"Oh, I dunno. This isn't like punishment, is it? I didn't do anything bad, did I?"

"Of course not! It'd just be for fun. Sensual. For excitement. You know, like 'doing it' in an elevator."

"Oh, good. Because if I ever did something you didn't like, you could just tell me."

"Of course! I know that. I'm not talking punishment here, just fun."

"Just fun."

"Right."

"So you mean like some playful slaps?"

"Playful, yes, but they should sting."

"Sting? You mean like hurt."

"Not necessarily a lot."

"Oh, not necessarily. But you'd want it to. Hurt. I don't get it - why do you want to hurt me?"

"No, no, no, that's not the point. I don't want to hurt you. I just want it to sting enough to be exciting. For you. And for me. Exciting. As I said before - like doing it in the elevator."

"No one's getting hurt in the elevator. Well, not unless we fall over or something."

"You're not going to get hurt. I promise you that. And you'll be able to decide how much, and how hard, because you'll have a safe word."

"A what?"

"A safe word."

"Which is...?"

"Something you can say if you want me to stop, or go lighter."

"Wouldn't it be easier if I just said 'stop'?"

"Perhaps, but, if we're playing - and it would be just playing - you might want to say 'stop' even when you don't really mean it."

"Where do you get this stuff? Is this something you've done before?"

"No, not really. I've just done research."

I met Gary at university and we married just after I left. He was the most wonderful man and I adored him in every way. Eventually we had two children: Ruth, our first born, and then David. Gary was very close to his parents, Steve and Carol. Steve had invented a new way of making a washing machine and his factories made him very wealthy indeed. Both my parents in law were generous and kind with very strong moral principles... totally unlike most modern day industrialists as far as I can see.

Steve and Carol had another younger child... Sally. Steve once told me that Sally was a 'force of nature'. He said it with love but he was right; she had to excel at everything. Notice I say had to and not did. Oh, she did as well but it was the fact that she wouldn't rest at anything until she was the best. She was outstanding academically and at several sports, and into everything at school. She took on bullies and won and was, of course, school captain before she left.

Once I heard Steve say about Sally, "She'll either end up as the dictator of a large country or as a saint. I'm just not sure which."

Carol and I laughed but Gary sat thoughtful and then looked up as if puzzled and asked, "Only one country?"

Sally worked in finance and I know her lifestyle worried everyone. She seemed intent on accumulating wealth for the sake of it and gave little thought to who might get hurt along the way. She drank heavily, used cocaine, and swore terribly. Once she moved to New York we saw very little of her and that worried us all even more.

Now my parents in law loved being with their grandchildren so we all went on holiday together to a rather lovely beach resort. I'd taken Ruth and David to buy an ice cream when a group of crazed young men came to the beach to kill for their religion. I watched my parents in law and then my husband gunned down and saw them turn their attention to those of us at the ice cream stand. Just then armed guards gunned them down. An elderly British couple looked after the children while I rushed down to the beach. Gary was still alive but he lasted only a short time, and I staggered away to ring my mum and dad. I couldn't get them so I rang Sally instead.

Sally didn't seem to understand me so the older man took the phone and explained everything. He shut the phone off and said simply, "Sally's on her way now." Sally was my saviour. She seemed to arrive instantly but I realise that wasn't the case. My elderly benefactors cared for me and the children and I am ashamed to say I went utterly to pieces.

1. A Caning for Connie
The reality of life in the Bends came home to Constance McKinley one Saturday afternoon in early September. Her family was so new to the neighborhood that she still had to drive slowly on Sycamore Trace to watch for the tiny sign that marked the Bends from the other gated communities.

She pulled up to the hut where the guard normally waved her through, but this time he signaled her to stop. She slid down her window.

"Is there a problem?"

"A small one, ma'am. Would you mind parking and stepping out of the car?"

Her heart fluttered a little. The Homeowners' Association Guidelines - a massive volume - contained a section on security gate protocol, which she had given just a cursory read. She glanced at Kelli, who was in the passenger seat bobbing her head to something on her ear-buds.

"I'll be just a minute," she said.

The girl, who Jake had begun calling 'Mini-Mom' because she had inherited her mother's red hair and soft freckles, ignored her.

Connie stepped out of the van and faced the guard, a fireplug of a man who stretched the buttons on his khaki shirt and was a head shorter than she. 'Rollins' was emblazoned on his name-tag.

"What's the trouble, Mr. Rollins?"

"Got a report of some things left in your front yard: a soccer ball and goal."

She frowned. She had told Kelli to put those things away before they left, but because the McKinleys' home had a rear-entry garage, she hadn't noticed the lawn when they drove off to the store. Her initial inclination was to argue that they had only been away for a couple of hours and a soccer ball and goal left in the yard wasn't a big deal. But she checked herself.

This, after all, was what the Bends was all about. More than the security, the lush green space, and the tightly restricted architectural standards, the Bends was about rigorously imposed community discipline. After hours of soul searching, Jake and Constance McKinley had decided it was right for them.

For the first five weeks nothing had happened, but Connie knew that had to change. And it was obvious it was going to change that day.

"I've got ice cream in the car, Mr. Rollins," she said softly.

"Then we'll make it quick. Please step over to the screen, Mrs. McKinley."

The screen was a decorative barrier of rustic planks nailed across posts and engraved with Willowbends - Welcome! on the side that faced the entry. A grab bar was attached to its backside.

"Is this your first experience at the Bends, Mrs. McKinley?" She nodded. "Well, in the event you've forgotten what the guidelines say - or maybe you haven't read them - violations reported to the gate earn you a ticket. One copy goes to your husband, to deal with as he sees fit. The second goes to the Association Directors - to deal with as they see fit."