Ladies Who Spank

Just released on Amazon, Ladies Who Spank is my latest collection of stories, one novelette and five short stories, featuring traditional domestic discipline themes with an F/M and F/F orientation.  Here is the Amazon UK link

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Here is the book’s description:

A collection of novelettes and short stories featuring no nonsense dominant ladies who do not hesitate to put errant males across their knees and administer firm bare bottom spankings. This collection of femdom spanking stories is over 38,000 words and contains one novelette and five short stories.
The Training of Roger Charlton — a novelette about a young wastrel in 1912 placed by his father in the care of a tutor, a Mrs. Claire Willows and her all female staff. To his dismay young Roger learns that the ladies in this household do indeed spank hard and often.
Kyle and Doreen — a new couple learn some secrets about each other including the fact that both are fascinated by spankings, prompting them to relive some old memories.
Bringing Bobby Down — a glorified office boy steps over the line with the female staff at a high end real estate firm and his bare bottom pays the price.
Coach Ironhand by CS — a formidable lady coach applies discipline her way, and she doesn’t need a paddle, just a bare hand toughened by years on a baseball diamond and a sturdy lap over which to place any arrogant male who dares defy her.
Mrs. Hinkley — Stanley, who has always been curious about spankings, learns the lady next door is a strict mom who spanks. Will he work up the courage to ask her to give him what he craves? And if she agrees, will the reality be more than he bargained for?
A Schoolboy Caning — Professor Barbara Rogers plots revenge on the colleague across the hall who would rather play spanking games with coeds than be with her. A woman scorned, she plans to see how he likes the other end of the stick, especially when the stick is a whippy rattan cane.

Here is an excerpt:

The sales ladies were having an animated conversation as he entered the lunchroom, contract files in hand.

“I need to talk to you all about these contracts,” he said. “Seems there are a few problems.”

“Can it wait a minute, Bobby? We’re having lunch here,” said Wanda. They resumed their conversation, paying Bobby no mind. Bobby felt miffed, but he listened in. The nature of the conversation immediately caught Bobby’s attention.

“Parents today have completely abdicated their authority,” said Margi. “This couple with two children came into my open house last weekend and the kids ran wild. They tore through the house, out of control and the mom just let them. The dad never said a word. Finally the mother says, ‘Johnny please stop,’ but he ignores her. Then he tells her to fuck off. Do you believe it? He was all of eleven years old.”

“Well, I know what my mom would have done,” said Betty, “and it would have involved a whippy switch and my behind.”

“You got that right,” said Wanda. “When I acted up, I got the ‘whacker’.”

“What was that?” asked Margi, the oldest of the three.

“It was a ten inch strap, two inches wide with a handle, and let me tell you, it was a real stinger. You had to go fetch it and bring it to mama. Then she’d walk you to your bedroom and sit on the bed. You stood there while she scolded you. After the scolding it was skirts up and panties down. Then you went over mama’s knee for at least twenty hard whacks and they stung like the dickin’s.”

“Ohh, I can relate to that,” said Betty. “I grew up in rural Mississippi and when I was due for a licking, I had to go and cut a peach switch. Then my ma would go to town on my bare butt. You don’t know what a hot seat is til’ you’ve had a whipping with a peach switch. If those weren’t handy, there was always that old leather sole. Now THAT was a stinger, let me tell you.  How about you, Margi?”

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“Oh I got my share,” said Margi. “My dad was a marine and he had a thick belt. Us kids didn’t give him much guff. His idea of discipline was you going face down over the foot of the bed, pants down to your knees, while he whipped your ass with that belt. But you know, as I got older, I was the one dishing it out.”

“Really?” said Betty. “How did that happen?”

“I babysat for this family and they told me in no uncertain terms that I was to hand out spankings if the kids disobeyed their rules. They insisted on it. There were two boys and a girl and one time they all got in trouble and I had to do it.”

“Really?” said Betty. “Tell us.”

 The conversation was giving Bobby a woody. Without knowing it, the women had pushed a hot button. Especially Margi. She was Bobby’s notion of an archetype — the formidable and dominating, yet sexually provocative woman. And that scared Bobby. At five foot ten, she topped Bobby’s slender five-six frame by several inches. She wore her lustrous red hair in one of two ways – either in a chic bob on top of her head or loose flowing down her shoulders. Either way it framed a fair face featuring bright green eyes that could be severe and penetrating or flirtatious, depending upon her mood. Her abundant figure made Bobby weak in the knees. It could be called overripe, but that appealed to Bobby as it did most men. She had an abundance of curves, from her more than ample breasts, to her torso which tapered to a narrow waist, to her wide and flaring hips. She was the type of woman who aroused animal instincts in men – big, curvy and full figured. Not the slender waif type seen in fashion magazines– to the contrary, Margi was all woman, an earth mother force of nature. When she wore a blouse and tight skirts it was all Bobby could do not to stare at her full breasts, her provocatively swaying hips, or her ripely rounded, jutting buttocks shifting under the fabric, making him flush with desire.

He could imagine each one of them getting a licking on their lush behinds with a strap or a switch, kicking their legs as the lay across a knee or bent over a chair, showing everything they had. His erection could not be controlled, so he turned sideways to hide it as he listened to the stories being told, just like he imagine Margi dishing it out. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, that thought was sexy, too.

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“This one time I stayed with them for two weeks. The kids all got in trouble. They got caught throwing eggs at cars, and the police hauled them in. I had to go pick them up from the police station. Because their parents were out of town, they said at first they’d have to wait until the parents got back. But I did a lot of talking, and the police sergeant finally said I could take them home — if I promised they’d be punished severely. I asked him what he meant by that and he said ‘If you promise me they’ll get a licking, a really good one, I’ll release them to your custody.’ Well the kids heard all that, and so when I got them home I called them into the rec room in the basement and told them they were all getting a good spanking.”

“What did you do?” said Bobby, now completely enthralled with the story.

“There was this frat paddle on the wall, a memento from college I guess. I took it down and said they were each getting a spanking by hand plus swats on the bare. They all put up a fuss, but it was that or back to the police station. So one at a time they took their pants down and came across my knee for a spanking with my hand, to sensitize the area, you know. They each got a minute of that and then it was time for the main event – the paddle. One by one they bent over the back of the sofa, bare bottoms up. I made each one count out ten hard stingers with that paddle. You should have heard the hollering and crying. Their fannies were beet red after that and no one sat comfortably for days.”

Bobby gulped. That sounded like it had been quite the punishment, and he realized she hadn’t been kidding.

 So now, as these attractive ladies talked about spankings from their youth, he reacted just like he had way back when, with a distinct tenting in his slacks. It did not go unnoticed. Margi had been watching Bobby even as the girls were telling their stories, looking for a reaction. Bobby flushed when he saw her watching him, a knowing smile announcing the fact that she’d seen his reaction.

“So, Bobby,” she said. “Do you find these stories about our childhood spankings amusing?”

Bobby’s collar suddenly felt tight and he used his finger in an attempt to loosen it. “Er … no, not really. I mean that’s for kids, right?”

“It looks to me like you find it interesting,” said Betty, now noticing the state of Bobby’s pants below the waist.

“How about you? Were you ever spanked, Bobby? Come on, ‘fess up,” said Wanda.

“Um … no. Not really.”

“Well then,” said Margi. “Maybe your education has been lacking, young man. All young men should get regular spankings.” She smiled wickedly.

“Yes, they should,” said Betty. “Nothing brings a brash young man down a peg or two like a good spanking.”

“Over the knee, and on the bare bottom,” added Wanda, piling on as they all enjoyed Bobby’s obvious embarrassment, not to mention his sexual confusion.

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All three women were now having a field day at Bobby’s expense with this teasing and it was distinctly uncomfortable. Bobby blushed beet red, and the three ladies laughed. The conversation moved in another direction, but Bobby could think of nothing else for the rest of lunch.

 It had been a radical power shift. In a flash Bobby had gone from man-in-charge to self conscious little boy, all because the women had dredged up those images of spankings at the hands of dominant women. Bobby tried to recover some authority.

“Uh, we still have to go over these contracts. I found some problems.” Then he tried some swagger and added, “Maybe you babes should get a spanking for all these errors, huh?”

All three stopped dead still and stared at him, incredulous that he would say such a thing.

“Really?” said Margi coolly, ignoring his smarmy comment. “Let’s see.” She grabbed the papers and perused them.

It turned out to be nothing. The women, all experienced agents, pointed out to Bobby that the inserted clauses he thought were mistakes were actually correct, legal and needed to be included.

“If you’d taken this language out, Bobby, the whole thing would have been void,” said Betty, looking at one of hers.

The others found similar problems, and in the end Bobby was one chagrinned junior contract administrator.

“Bobby, really now, you have to study the realtor’s manual more closely,” said Margi. Bobby had been totally humiliated.

 After lunch Margi took Bobby aside.

“Come with me. We are all going shopping.”

“Shopping? What for?” This was new, and Bobby could not figure out what she had in mind.

“The girls and I have been talking and we think it’s time. Antiques. We’re going antique shopping.”

“Why?” said Bobby.

Margi flashed him an enigmatic smile. “Let’s just say it’s to further your education.”

 

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