For those of you who like a touch of romance with their spanking, I have set up a blog for my alter ego, Abigail Armani. This is the name I use specifically for spanking romance titles.
I've just posted a new free story called Carousel. Please check it out. I hope you like it :)
It's the 1st of December, and Februs and I have been hard at it working on the LSF Christmas Collection. Like Santa's elves, we have laboured long into the night and after much swearing and cursing, pulling out of hair and scoffing of chocolate, seven brand spanking new volumes of Christmas spanking stories are now available, with a total of 266,500 words!
This is a fund raising initiative to help support The Library of Spanking Fiction. We set LSF up in 2009 to provide a free resource for the spanking community, and we currently make available over 22,500 stories free of charge to our 13,000 plus members. Many thanks to all the authors who contributed.
LSF Publications have released seven brand spanking new volumes of Christmas spanking stories. With a total of 222,500 words, there is something for everyone ... there are 5 M/F books, 1 F/F and 1 F/M. So stuff your Christmas stockings with the following titles:
The Best Christmas Present Ever (M/F)
Blue Christmas (M/F)
One Last Christmas (M/F)
The Christmas Sprit (M/F)
Christmas at Woodbridge Manor (M/F)
Christmas Spanking F/F Femdom Tales
Christmas Spanking F/M Femdom Tales
All titles are professionally produced and very reasonably priced. They can be bought from LSF Publications or Amazon. Further details, including links to all the Amazon marketplaces are available here.
Well done to Leigh Smith who has a new release out. Love Is Where You Find It has just been published and is available from Amazon or direct from LSF Publications. It's a spanking romance with a Western theme. Check it out!
Are you ready for more? Here's my third Halloween story. Read and enjoy, and Happy Halloween!
Halloween Caper 3: The Finding, by Lucy Appleby
Bethany was sick and tired of the constant interruptions. "This Trick or Treat lark should be banned!" she told her husband George.
"Hmm," came his customary response. He was sitting in his chair drinking beer and watching football on the TV.
"I'm up and down like a yo-yo. I'm going to ignore the next lot. They can bang on the door all night for all I care."
"Hmmm," said George. He turned the volume up.
"Should I do that - ignore them?"
"Hmm, yes," grunted George.
Bethany sighed. She peeked out of the curtain into the dark night beyond. The gang of five kids were disappearing down the driveway, no doubt now primed to go and pester the people next door. She pressed her face closer to the glass as she saw Christine emerge from her house, her blonde hair shining beneath the moonlight and her face clearly illuminated before it was hidden beneath a hood. What's she wearing? Some sort of cape?
She watched as her neighbour took a short cut through the shrubbery in order to avoid the gang of five trick or treaters already making their way up her garden path. Moments later the caped figure emerged from the shrubbery, visible just for a moment beneath the faint glow of a street lamp.
What possessed Bethany to follow Christine she never afterwards could determine, but follow her she did.
"I'm off out for a walk, George." She grabbed her coat and slipped her feet into a pair of flat shoes.
Bethany left the house before he delivered his usual grunting response. She caught sight of Christine across the road and followed her. She wondered whether she should shout, make herself known, so that they could walk together. But a little secret voice in her head whispered caution. So she cautiously followed, delighting in the clandestine feeling and the fact that she remained unobserved.
The subterfuge continued for some fifteen minutes or so. Maintaining a discrete distance, Bethany watched as her neighbour approached a rather dilapidated house on the outskirts of town. She was about to cross over the road when a hand grabbed her shoulder.
"Bethany Thomas - is that you? Yes - it IS you! Hello, what are you doing here?"
Bethany whirled around in fright. "Oh! God, Kitty - you gave me a fright!"
Kitty grinned. "Sorry about that. This is Megan - and this is Cherry. Girls, meet Bethany."
"Um. Hello all."
"So where's George?"
"At home watching the football. I .. I was..." She caught sight of the warm glow of lights from the windows of The George and Dragon public house. It gave her a likely excuse. "I hate football - needed some air. Thought I'd go for a drink. Heard the real ale pub over there is pretty good."
"My you're a dark horse Bethany. I didn't know you enjoyed a glass or two of liquid naughtiness! Anyway, you must come with us as that's where we're heading." Kitty linked arms with Bethany. "Come on girls. We're going to have a fun evening!"
So Bethany ended up in the pub sampling a half pint of real ale that turned her cheeks all pink and made her feel all warm and tingly inside. To her surprise, she began to enjoy herself.
"We must do this again," said Kitty. "Promise you'll come out with us next week?"
"I promise," nodded Bethany. The wall clock showed 10.15. "However, I really must be going now or George will wonder where I am." If only. So she excused herself and hugged her old friend and her new ones and left the pub.
Before heading home however, she made her way back to the house that Christine had visited earlier. You're a nosey old trout, Bethany Thomas, she chided herself. She found herself standing by the rickety old gate. It caught in the wind and swung open invitingly with a welcoming little creak. Bethany stepped forward. I'll just take a quick peek. The ale had made her more adventurous. She wandered along the winding path through the garden, beautiful in its unkempt wildness beneath the shining silver moon, and she stood before the front door staring at the lion's-head door knocker.
She stood there for some time, the rational part of her urging her to stop being so stupid and to go home at once. But something held her. Something ... the sound of footsteps beyond the door could be clearly heard, and as they drew closer Bethany gulped and held her breath as the door opened.
A man stood there. He was tall and dark haired, distinguished looking in an old fashioned courtly way. He was neither young nor old, ugly or beautiful, but he had the most amazing eyes. Those eyes bored into her own. A wave of panic swept over her. What should she say? She said the first thing that came into her head.
"Trick or treat?"
A smile twitched on the man's face. "I am Mr Hanson. Do come in, Bethany."
As she stepped over the threshold she wondered fleetingly how he knew her name. But it was of no real consequence. She followed him into a study where a fire glowed in the hearth, casting leaping shadows on the wall. Her eyes scanned the room, focusing on a large mahogany desk. She looked at it and then she looked at Mr Hanson. A frisson of understanding jolted through her. Mr Hanson nodded and gestured towards the desk.
"Bend over the desk, Bethany. Take your knickers down for me."
And she did. She obeyed. Oh she was so shameless, so wanton, so slutty. And she didn't care at all. She gloried in the feelings that coursed through her - feelings of lust and helplessness and a mounting sexual excitement tinged with fear.
"I'm going to cane you."
She nodded and gulped. Yes. Yes of course he was. That's why she was here. She felt the tip of the cane tap her inner thighs and she dutifully splayed her legs wider, displaying herself in a way she had never done for George. There was a mounting silence, broken by a swish and hiss of air and then - a sharp crack and a searing pain and a scream of anguish.
"Ohhhhhh!!" It was terrible and beautiful. It was a line of liquid fire. It cut deep, branding her, searing her flesh. She gasped and tossed back her head, thrusting out her buttocks lewdly.
The cane struck again, and again, producing such artistry - expertly placed parallel lines. The cane sang as Bethany cried out. Her flesh quivered. Her buttocks bounced. Her skin glowed as the burn bit. And still the rod kissed her punished bottom in a cleansing ritual of painful decadence.
Her cries muted and turned to moans and little mewls of pleasure. Her bottom was on fire, as hot as the coals that glowed in the hearth, as red as the glowing eyes of Mr Hanson as he smiled his crocodile smile and moved a little closer ...
Here's my second Halloween story. I hope you like it :) More to come soon.
Halloween Caper 2: A Long Awaited Caning, by Lucy Appleby
Christine sprawled on the sofa indulging herself with a large glass of wine and some Belgian chocolate. Her twin daughters out trick or treating, she found her mind wandering back to when she too was a girl of eighteen. Those incredible experiences she had enjoyed with Mr Hanson in the old crumbling house on the outskirts of town were etched into her memory forever. The thought made her blush, and the old familiar tingling and churning in the pit of her stomach began.
Why did I stop going? she mused. Because I got engaged, then married. She sipped her wine. But I'm not married now. I divorced the bastard. She popped a chocolate into her mouth. Then the idea took hold and her excitement grew. I wonder if I still have my Halloween costume? I wonder if Mr Hanson is still there in that house?
Fifteen minutes later she left the house wearing a long black cloak, and beneath it, the diaphanous gown of a witch, laced with cobwebs and tiny plastic spiders. She remembered the way oh so clearly, and walked in the comforting shadows as her mind churned and her anticipation grew.
Twenty minutes later, Mr Hanson's house came into view. She opened the rickety gate and walked along the path through the untended garden, stopping by the front door. The paint was crumbling and faded but the cast-iron lion's-head door knocker was the same. She rapped three times. Footsteps echoed from the hollow hall beyond the door, which was thrown open to reveal Mr Hanson. His eyes glinted in predatory delight at the sight of her.
"Trick or treat?"
"Neither. Come inside. You know what to do."
It was just like old times. She followed him into a study. The fire roared and the flames flickered in the hearth and the clock on the mantelshelf ticked tirelessly. The old mahogany desk awaited her, a patina of age on its surface, a surface that she would shortly be occupying.
"Remove your cloak and take your knickers down."
How could she not obey that delicious request? In a few moments she was bending over the desk, her rounded bottom presented for long-awaited chastisement. When he tapped her inner thighs with the cane, she obediently parted her legs, revealing herself to him so shamefully. Wanton fires raged within her.
Mr Hanson surveyed the sight through narrowed eyes, and a wolfish smile curled his lips. He grasped the slender cane firmly in his right hand, and began.
Each stroke sliced into the firm flesh, burning, biting deep. Christine shrieked. She howled out her pain and her pleasure as the cane descended again and again, leaving trails of red fire in its wake. Her bottom wobbled and bounced beneath the onslaught. Her legs kicked as she moaned and shrieked in heady euphoria. And when it was over, she lay panting, her punished flesh stinging and sore. Her cries were silent now. There was only the noise of the fire and her ragged breath, and the breath of Mr Hanson caressing the back of her neck as he leaned closer ... closer ...
I'm a storyteller who likes variety. I don't produce stereotypical spanking stories and I attempt to make my stories engaging and original, having a decent plot and characterisation, evocative of mood and atmosphere to draw the reader in.
Some of my stories are erotic, some are humorous (wickedly so!), some feature romance - but not over-the-top soppy stuff! - whilst others blend fantasy with reality. (My spanking romance e-books are written under my pen name of Abigail Armani).
You will also find school stories, workplace spanking stories, and domestic themed spanking tales, plus stories with a soupcon of sci-fi, history, and femdom. I especially enjoy writing spanking fiction with a supernatural theme as there's so much scope in this particular genre to build up tension and let my imagination run riot.
I am co director of LSF Publications - the best up and coming publisher of spanking ebooks on the planet! Ok, so I may be a tad biased :D See for yourself: