I'd like to say a big thank you to Patty Devlin for hosting me today on her blog.
Do check out the interview and learn what I've been getting up to :)
Thanks so much for organising it, Patty.
A cool three million
14 years ago
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Monday, August 12, 2013
The Curiosity Shop
Coming Soon ...
Hello all you lovely people out there. I've been kinda busy of late - even more so than usual! - because there's LOTS coming soon! One title is a joint venture with myself and three other authors - Geraldine Hillis, Angela Stone, and J Wackford Colton. It's called The Curiosity Shop, and it has a supernatural theme. Whoever ventures into the shop gets what they deserve ... and some of the customers are so very deserving. I remember writing up the introduction and describing the proprietor of the shop, Conrad Black. He really came alive inside my head. I love it when the muse strikes hot!
Here's the introduction as a little taster. The book will be available from LSF Publications in a couple of weeks time:
He strode through the crowded street, a tall enigmatic figure, sartorially elegant in his formal though dated attire. He wore a frock coat of charcoal grey. His trousers were of the same fabric and colour with a subtle pin stripe. The sombre colours were complemented by a pristine high-collared white shirt, worn with a silver and black cravat and an embossed silk waistcoat the colour of rich claret.
From his waistcoat pocket hung a polished silver watch on a silver chain. His height was enhanced by a top hat of black felt, and the finishing touches to his attire were a pair of highly polished black lace-up ankle boots and a gentleman's walking stick with a silver plated head and a black hardwood shaft. He held the stick in his right hand - a large, well proportioned, yet delicate hand, with long tapering fingers and perfectly manicured nails. The point of the stick tapped smartly on the pavement as he walked.
He looked every inch the Victorian gentleman, totally incongruous amidst the hoards of Saturday shoppers jostling on the crowded pavements. He cast a disdainful glance at a noisy group of girls eating burger and chips from brown paper bags outside McDonald's. They ignored him. No-one gave him a second glance, which was odd given his unusual garb, his striking good looks, thick dark hair and commanding presence.
His sharp eyes missed nothing. Deep set and dark brown, they glittered and sparked in the late morning sun as he observed the goings on around him. On the busy main road the traffic was building up for the afternoon's football match, and some cars drove past with supporters leaning out of the windows, yelling and waving. He watched carefully. Sometimes his wide sensual mouth would twitch into a smile at the things that amused him; and when he was displeased, he would frown and narrow his eyes into a baleful glare.
Still, he rather enjoyed his indulgence of people watching. There were always deserving people to be found amongst the throng, and he derived great pleasure in selecting the special ones and ensuring they got precisely what they deserved.
He turned off into a small narrow side street away from the surging crowds, leaving the hubbub behind. At the end of the street was the green door to a shop which had double fronted bow windows, and a sign above that read The Curiosity Shop - antiques and curios from all corners of the globe. At the bottom of the sign, in small ornate lettering was the name Conrad Black, Proprietor.
Taking a small brass key from his pocket, Conrad Black used it to unlock the door. He locked and bolted it behind him, and walked through the shop. The rather ordinary external façade revealed a startlingly opulent and large interior. It was a sparkling Aladdin's cave, brim full with all manner of furniture and collectables.
There were bookcases, desks, chests and coffers; sofas, chairs and stools; cupboards, cabinets and dressers; clocks and watches and barometers. Gilt framed mirrors, oil paintings and watercolour prints hung from the walls, and display stands were bedecked with glass, porcelain and ceramic items, silver plate and glittering jewellery. There were all manner of lamps and chandeliers, iron grates and firedogs, interspersed with decorative planters, stone lions and garden ornaments. Further down the shop were beautiful Persian rugs and silk tapestries and wall hangings, and library shelves filled with ancient books.
Conrad Black walked past the books and opened an oak paneled door set into a dimly lit recess. It led in to a large private room with an adjacent small kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. This was his personal space and the place where he kept his private collection. He opened a large carved armoire and ran his hand along the rows of canes, crops, floggers, straps and paddles. He selected a two-tailed Lochgelly tawse of dark brown leather. It felt solid and heavy in his hand, and the two stiff tails at the business end of the implement were specially designed to maximize sting.
Removing his coat, he seated himself at his desk, his long sensitive fingers caressing the stiff leather of the tawse. He remained deep in thought for a few moments before he reached a decision. At that point he knew exactly who would shortly be on the receiving end of the tawse. The thought brought a wolfish smile to his lips and his dark eyes gleamed in anticipation.
Hello all you lovely people out there. I've been kinda busy of late - even more so than usual! - because there's LOTS coming soon! One title is a joint venture with myself and three other authors - Geraldine Hillis, Angela Stone, and J Wackford Colton. It's called The Curiosity Shop, and it has a supernatural theme. Whoever ventures into the shop gets what they deserve ... and some of the customers are so very deserving. I remember writing up the introduction and describing the proprietor of the shop, Conrad Black. He really came alive inside my head. I love it when the muse strikes hot!
Here's the introduction as a little taster. The book will be available from LSF Publications in a couple of weeks time:
He strode through the crowded street, a tall enigmatic figure, sartorially elegant in his formal though dated attire. He wore a frock coat of charcoal grey. His trousers were of the same fabric and colour with a subtle pin stripe. The sombre colours were complemented by a pristine high-collared white shirt, worn with a silver and black cravat and an embossed silk waistcoat the colour of rich claret.
From his waistcoat pocket hung a polished silver watch on a silver chain. His height was enhanced by a top hat of black felt, and the finishing touches to his attire were a pair of highly polished black lace-up ankle boots and a gentleman's walking stick with a silver plated head and a black hardwood shaft. He held the stick in his right hand - a large, well proportioned, yet delicate hand, with long tapering fingers and perfectly manicured nails. The point of the stick tapped smartly on the pavement as he walked.
He looked every inch the Victorian gentleman, totally incongruous amidst the hoards of Saturday shoppers jostling on the crowded pavements. He cast a disdainful glance at a noisy group of girls eating burger and chips from brown paper bags outside McDonald's. They ignored him. No-one gave him a second glance, which was odd given his unusual garb, his striking good looks, thick dark hair and commanding presence.
His sharp eyes missed nothing. Deep set and dark brown, they glittered and sparked in the late morning sun as he observed the goings on around him. On the busy main road the traffic was building up for the afternoon's football match, and some cars drove past with supporters leaning out of the windows, yelling and waving. He watched carefully. Sometimes his wide sensual mouth would twitch into a smile at the things that amused him; and when he was displeased, he would frown and narrow his eyes into a baleful glare.
Still, he rather enjoyed his indulgence of people watching. There were always deserving people to be found amongst the throng, and he derived great pleasure in selecting the special ones and ensuring they got precisely what they deserved.
He turned off into a small narrow side street away from the surging crowds, leaving the hubbub behind. At the end of the street was the green door to a shop which had double fronted bow windows, and a sign above that read The Curiosity Shop - antiques and curios from all corners of the globe. At the bottom of the sign, in small ornate lettering was the name Conrad Black, Proprietor.
Taking a small brass key from his pocket, Conrad Black used it to unlock the door. He locked and bolted it behind him, and walked through the shop. The rather ordinary external façade revealed a startlingly opulent and large interior. It was a sparkling Aladdin's cave, brim full with all manner of furniture and collectables.
There were bookcases, desks, chests and coffers; sofas, chairs and stools; cupboards, cabinets and dressers; clocks and watches and barometers. Gilt framed mirrors, oil paintings and watercolour prints hung from the walls, and display stands were bedecked with glass, porcelain and ceramic items, silver plate and glittering jewellery. There were all manner of lamps and chandeliers, iron grates and firedogs, interspersed with decorative planters, stone lions and garden ornaments. Further down the shop were beautiful Persian rugs and silk tapestries and wall hangings, and library shelves filled with ancient books.
Conrad Black walked past the books and opened an oak paneled door set into a dimly lit recess. It led in to a large private room with an adjacent small kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. This was his personal space and the place where he kept his private collection. He opened a large carved armoire and ran his hand along the rows of canes, crops, floggers, straps and paddles. He selected a two-tailed Lochgelly tawse of dark brown leather. It felt solid and heavy in his hand, and the two stiff tails at the business end of the implement were specially designed to maximize sting.
Removing his coat, he seated himself at his desk, his long sensitive fingers caressing the stiff leather of the tawse. He remained deep in thought for a few moments before he reached a decision. At that point he knew exactly who would shortly be on the receiving end of the tawse. The thought brought a wolfish smile to his lips and his dark eyes gleamed in anticipation.
New E-Book - The Bad Boy Story Book Volume 2
F/M lovers everywhere - a brand spanking new Bad Boy Story Book (volume 2) is now available. It's hot and it's fun.
This anthology will be enjoyed by anyone interested in being disciplined by a dominant woman. The entertaining stories all feature the F/M orientation. Some are humorous, some are erotic; some have a domestic setting whilst others focus on particular scenarios and places and fantasy situations. The common theme is the women disciplinarians who will stand for no nonsense as they inflict good old fashioned spankings to the deserving, with the help of a formidable array of disciplinary implements. It has to be said that in most of these stories, the disciplined male ends up with a monster erection. Indeed, this tumescent condition appears to affect most of the men in this bumper collection of stories regardless of whether they are whacked by hand, cane, crop or paddle!
The first story called The Abominable Mother-In-Law, tells the tale of Bradley Carter who, driven by his love of money and a desire for an idle life, marries the wealthy and seemingly docile Emily Graf. But he doesn't bargain on having his budget curtailed by his fearsome iron-willed mother-in-law, Gretchen. She takes matters into her own hands right from the start and gives Bradley the first of many bare-assed paddlings. To his horror he discovers he has inadvertently signed a pre-nuptial agreement which states that if ever he overspends on the weekly budget (which of course he does), he is to be subject to rigorous weekly discipline throughout his married life. There is yet another clause which commits him to working as a house maid (in uniform) in the marital home. Emily is given lessons by her mother on how to discipline and train her new husband, so Bradley soon finds himself upended and chastised on alternate weeks by the two women in his life.
The other delights in this volume are:
Absolution, Auditions for a Spanking Movie, The Earth Mother, A Fish Slice Farce, Freddie and Mrs Brown, Granny Rattlebones, The Handyman, The Hypnotist, The Particle Physicist, His Wife, & His Mother, The Physical Education Teacher, The Raggedy Man, Secret Spanko, Sisters of the Lash, The Swamp Queen, and The Travelling Hairbrush Meets the Twins.
Fantastic artwork once again provided by my friend RedRump.
Available from Amazon and also LSF Publications:
To purchase the book in other formats, please go to the LSF Publications site
This anthology will be enjoyed by anyone interested in being disciplined by a dominant woman. The entertaining stories all feature the F/M orientation. Some are humorous, some are erotic; some have a domestic setting whilst others focus on particular scenarios and places and fantasy situations. The common theme is the women disciplinarians who will stand for no nonsense as they inflict good old fashioned spankings to the deserving, with the help of a formidable array of disciplinary implements. It has to be said that in most of these stories, the disciplined male ends up with a monster erection. Indeed, this tumescent condition appears to affect most of the men in this bumper collection of stories regardless of whether they are whacked by hand, cane, crop or paddle!
The first story called The Abominable Mother-In-Law, tells the tale of Bradley Carter who, driven by his love of money and a desire for an idle life, marries the wealthy and seemingly docile Emily Graf. But he doesn't bargain on having his budget curtailed by his fearsome iron-willed mother-in-law, Gretchen. She takes matters into her own hands right from the start and gives Bradley the first of many bare-assed paddlings. To his horror he discovers he has inadvertently signed a pre-nuptial agreement which states that if ever he overspends on the weekly budget (which of course he does), he is to be subject to rigorous weekly discipline throughout his married life. There is yet another clause which commits him to working as a house maid (in uniform) in the marital home. Emily is given lessons by her mother on how to discipline and train her new husband, so Bradley soon finds himself upended and chastised on alternate weeks by the two women in his life.
The other delights in this volume are:
Absolution, Auditions for a Spanking Movie, The Earth Mother, A Fish Slice Farce, Freddie and Mrs Brown, Granny Rattlebones, The Handyman, The Hypnotist, The Particle Physicist, His Wife, & His Mother, The Physical Education Teacher, The Raggedy Man, Secret Spanko, Sisters of the Lash, The Swamp Queen, and The Travelling Hairbrush Meets the Twins.
Fantastic artwork once again provided by my friend RedRump.
Available from Amazon and also LSF Publications:
To purchase the book in other formats, please go to the LSF Publications site
Thursday, August 01, 2013
Free Short Story - Today's Special
Here's a fun little thing I wrote a few years back. I hope it makes you smile :D
Business was booming at the Tea Cosy Café, thanks to the multi-talented chef, Frank Licker who had revitalized the café by the introduction of 'Today's Special.'
At a small table sat a plump middle-aged lady and her brother. They ordered a pot of tea, and as they deliberated over the menu, the café began to fill up.
"My goodness, Jeremy. Everyone in here has a big smile on their face."
"Indeed they have. How very jolly," beamed Jeremy. He turned and nodded affably at the surrounding customers.
"Well I don't like it," snapped Penelope. "It's not natural. Now - shall I have the salad ... or something more substantial?"
"I think I'll have the kippers," mused Jeremy.
"Don't be silly dear. You know they give you wind."
"Kippers do NOT make me fart," said Jeremy indignantly.
"Sssshh. Keep your voice down," hissed Penelope. She shamelessley eavesdropped on the nearby conversations. "Hmmm - everyone seems to be going for Today's Special. It must be highly recommended." She waved the waitress over. "I'll have the special, please."
"I'd like your Today's Special too," announced Jeremy. "I have a good feeling about it."
"Yes Sir, absolutely," said the waitress, and winked slyly.
Penelope stared at the departing waitress. "What a young hussy, winking at my brother like that. Shameless."
"I don't mind at all. If I can't have kippers, the next best thing is a wink."
"Nonsense. Really dear, if you didn't have me to guide you, heaven only knows what sort of predicament you'd get yourself in to." Penelope paused and looked towards the side of the room. A long low table had been positioned, and there were excited murmurings from the customers. "Oh look - here comes the chef. My, he's rather handsome."
"Oh - rather," agreed Jeremy.
Chef Licker waved to the customers. "Now then - who wants to be first to sample Today's Special?"
There were cries of "Me! Me!"
Penelope frowned. Whatever it was must be really good. She must ensure she got plenty for herself. So she stood up and waved. "Over here! Give me some!"
Chef Licker looked over. "I see you, Madam. Are you deserving?"
"I am MOST deserving."
"Fine. Looks like you're first then. Come here."
The crowd roared their approval and Penelope blushed with pride as she hurried over. "I can hardly wait." She looked at the table. On it sat a big sports bag. There was no sign of any food. "What IS Today's Special?"
"Twelve with the squealer!" Chef Licker dived into the bag and produced a huge leather paddle.
"The squealer! The squealer!" chanted the customers.
"What?" said Penelope. "Ohhhhhhhh!"
Penelope found herself grabbed and bent over the table. Two customers dashed forward to hold her arms in place, then to her horror her skirt was raised and her knickers lowered amidst riotous applause.
Chef Licker raised his hand and brought the paddle cracking down on the big wobbly bottom.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!" squealed Penelope.
There was plenty for everyone ...
Business was booming at the Tea Cosy Café, thanks to the multi-talented chef, Frank Licker who had revitalized the café by the introduction of 'Today's Special.'
At a small table sat a plump middle-aged lady and her brother. They ordered a pot of tea, and as they deliberated over the menu, the café began to fill up.
"My goodness, Jeremy. Everyone in here has a big smile on their face."
"Indeed they have. How very jolly," beamed Jeremy. He turned and nodded affably at the surrounding customers.
"Well I don't like it," snapped Penelope. "It's not natural. Now - shall I have the salad ... or something more substantial?"
"I think I'll have the kippers," mused Jeremy.
"Don't be silly dear. You know they give you wind."
"Kippers do NOT make me fart," said Jeremy indignantly.
"Sssshh. Keep your voice down," hissed Penelope. She shamelessley eavesdropped on the nearby conversations. "Hmmm - everyone seems to be going for Today's Special. It must be highly recommended." She waved the waitress over. "I'll have the special, please."
"I'd like your Today's Special too," announced Jeremy. "I have a good feeling about it."
"Yes Sir, absolutely," said the waitress, and winked slyly.
Penelope stared at the departing waitress. "What a young hussy, winking at my brother like that. Shameless."
"I don't mind at all. If I can't have kippers, the next best thing is a wink."
"Nonsense. Really dear, if you didn't have me to guide you, heaven only knows what sort of predicament you'd get yourself in to." Penelope paused and looked towards the side of the room. A long low table had been positioned, and there were excited murmurings from the customers. "Oh look - here comes the chef. My, he's rather handsome."
"Oh - rather," agreed Jeremy.
Chef Licker waved to the customers. "Now then - who wants to be first to sample Today's Special?"
There were cries of "Me! Me!"
Penelope frowned. Whatever it was must be really good. She must ensure she got plenty for herself. So she stood up and waved. "Over here! Give me some!"
Chef Licker looked over. "I see you, Madam. Are you deserving?"
"I am MOST deserving."
"Fine. Looks like you're first then. Come here."
The crowd roared their approval and Penelope blushed with pride as she hurried over. "I can hardly wait." She looked at the table. On it sat a big sports bag. There was no sign of any food. "What IS Today's Special?"
"Twelve with the squealer!" Chef Licker dived into the bag and produced a huge leather paddle.
"The squealer! The squealer!" chanted the customers.
"What?" said Penelope. "Ohhhhhhhh!"
Penelope found herself grabbed and bent over the table. Two customers dashed forward to hold her arms in place, then to her horror her skirt was raised and her knickers lowered amidst riotous applause.
Chef Licker raised his hand and brought the paddle cracking down on the big wobbly bottom.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!" squealed Penelope.
There was plenty for everyone ...
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
New E-Book - Horrible Aunt Harriet & Her Nephew
Here's my latest title, and if you want cheering up on a dull day, read on!
Eighteen-year old Dan has been cosseted by his parents, and when they need to take an unexpected business trip to Dubai, Dan is pleased that he will be given the chance to fend for himself for six weeks. Wrong. Instead, he finds he is sent to stay with his Aunt Harriet in the country. Aunt Harriet is a real character - a retired barrister - and an 'old school' disciplinarian. It isn't long before Dan experiences his first ever spanking. Bare bottomed over Aunt Harriet's lap he feels the blistering kiss of her hairbrush. It is a revelation for Dan. Painful, yes, but erotic too. He soon decides he quite enjoys being spanked by his no-nonsense aunt ... which is just as well because he gets himself in so much trouble he inevitably pays the price on his bare bottom.
A humorous rite-of-passage story between a misbehaving nephew and his strict aunt.
Available from Amazon and also LSF Publications:
To purchase the book in other formats, please go to the LSF Publications site
Eighteen-year old Dan has been cosseted by his parents, and when they need to take an unexpected business trip to Dubai, Dan is pleased that he will be given the chance to fend for himself for six weeks. Wrong. Instead, he finds he is sent to stay with his Aunt Harriet in the country. Aunt Harriet is a real character - a retired barrister - and an 'old school' disciplinarian. It isn't long before Dan experiences his first ever spanking. Bare bottomed over Aunt Harriet's lap he feels the blistering kiss of her hairbrush. It is a revelation for Dan. Painful, yes, but erotic too. He soon decides he quite enjoys being spanked by his no-nonsense aunt ... which is just as well because he gets himself in so much trouble he inevitably pays the price on his bare bottom.
A humorous rite-of-passage story between a misbehaving nephew and his strict aunt.
Available from Amazon and also LSF Publications:
To purchase the book in other formats, please go to the LSF Publications site
Monday, July 15, 2013
Free Story - Pig!
I'm referring to a real pig, as in big fat porker, as opposed to the male chauvinistic variety ... Here's a funny story. I hope it makes you chuckle. I certainly had fun writing it:D
PIG by flopsybunny (AKA Lucy Appleby)
Benjamin Grundy was enjoying the peace and quiet of the cabbage patch, with no noise but the gentle scrape of the hoe, the twitter of birds and the soft drone of bees. Years of manual labour had helped to maintain an unnaturally youthful physique for a man of 60 years, though he did find he needed a sit down more often these days. However, right now, he was diligently weeding as he indulged in quiet contemplation.
Alas, his tranquillity was shattered by a raucous shout emitted by the unmistakably grating voice of his cleaning lady, Mrs Gusset.
"Pig's got in, Mr Benjamin! Pig's got in!"
"What?" Benjamin frowned and walked over to the pig sty. Harriet was nowhere to be seen, and the unlatched gate swung to and fro.
"Damn that pig," he muttered, and headed towards the house.
"Eeeeeeeeeeee!" screeched Mrs Gusset. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
"Stop your caterwauling woman. Where is the wretched pig?"
"It's in the house, Mr Benjamin. It's trashing the living room. It's gone mad!"
"The pig is in the house?" Benjamin was aghast. "In my living room? No, it can't be."
"Oh but it is, Mr Benjamin. It is. I've seen it with my own two eyes," proclaimed Mrs Gusset, wringing her hands in a distraught manner.
"I don't believe it."
"It's true, by gum! It came hurtling into the kitchen and it stole a carrot from the vegetable box, and ran off chomping it. I tried to shoo it outside, but it wasn't having it. That's a very determined porker you've got Mr Benjamin, if I may say so. Sneaky too. Not to be trusted, is that pig."
"Out of the way, woman, let me at it. Give me the mop."
Mrs Gusset handed him her mop, and he advanced warily, holding the mop out ahead like a lance.
"Careful," warned Mrs Gusset. "It might bite you."
"Rubbish. Harriet doesn't bite. She - oh! She's got the mop! Give it here, you stupid animal."
Benjamin pulled the mop handle one way, and Harriet, her mouth full of mop head, pulled in the opposite direction.
"Aw, look at that! She wants to play tug of war. Nice piggie," said Mrs Gusset.
"Damn and blast!" thundered Benjamin. "How the hell did she get out of the pig sty?"
"Dearie me, I really don't know."
Benjamin muttered crossly and whacked the pig with the mop, trying to nudge her back out of the living room. But she wasn't going anywhere. Her little piggy eyes glared and she grunted angrily.
"Oh my! Watch it, Mr Benjamin - that's her mean and nasty grunt."
"Now listen here, I think I know more about my pig's grunt than you do, Mrs Gusset. Make yourself useful will you and go and get some rope."
"Ooooh, that's a smashing idea. I'll go and look in the shed."
"Be quick about it! We have to get this bloody pig out of my living room."
Harriet the pig rooted about behind the sofa and then went under the table and wouldn't come out. Benjamin tried to tempt her out with an apple, but she was wise to his tricks, and took her revenge by eating his best cushion and pooping on the rug.
Benjamin cursed and poked her with the mop. Harriet squealed loudly and maintained her position.
"If you don't come out right now," Benjamin informed the pig, "I'm having you for my dinner with peas and apple sauce."
"That's a very masterful thing to say to it," enthused Mrs Gusset as she returned with a length of rope. "Let it know whose boss, like."
Benjamin clicked his tongue in exasperation as he tied the end of the rope into a noose, and proceeded to lasso the pig, much to the delight of Mrs Gusset, who capered around the room making encouraging noises.
"Will you SHUT UP, woman! You"re making more noise than the pig. Silence. Let me concentrate."
At the third attempt, he managed to get the noose around Harriet's neck. It took the combined efforts of him and Mrs Gusset to pull Harriet out from under the table and take her back to her sty.
"Er, Mr Benjamin ..."
"What?"
"Well I have to be honest. I cannot deceive you any longer. I have to confess to my crime."
"Which is?" Benjamin stared hard at Mrs Gusset.
Mrs Gusset stared back at him for a brief moment, her face flushed pink, and then she lowered her gaze and confessed. "I let the pig out. I didn't mean to. It was an accident."
"Oh, you STUPID woman!"
"I'm very very sorry. Very sorry indeed I am. Sorry," she added lamely.
"Right. That's it. That's the third time this week you have done something stupid and caused me grief. Into the barn with you. Get over the saw horse and get your knickers down. It's the strap for you, woman - good and hard."
Benjamin strode into the barn and retrieved the strap from its nail on the wall near the door. Mrs Gusset whimpered and did as she was told. She raised her skirt and pulled down her big pink bloomers. They fell in a heap around her Wellington boots. She obediently bent over the saw horse, her big white wobbly bottom jutting out like a massive Neolithic monument.
Benjamin got stuck in. He grasped the strap in his right hand and brought it cracking down over her bare bottom.
"Owwweeeee!" she screeched.
"I'll give you something to screech about, woman. Letting my pig out to run amok in my house. Take that! And that!"
His arm rose and fell as he strapped every inch of her bottom. There were a lot of inches to cover. He got quite a sweat on as he administered a good old fashioned strapping to this careless woman. Her bottom had changed colour from white to pink, and was now cherry red, with raised welts from the strap. The cries and yowls of Mrs Gusset infuriated him further, and he gave her an extra dozen for making such an awful racket.
When he was done, Benjamin hung the strap back on its nail and stomped out to make himself a nice pot of tea.
Mrs Gusset lay over the spanking horse, her bottom sore and throbbing, her eyes glazed over, and a big smile on her face. Blimey, she thought, the things a girl has to do to get herself a spanking.
© flopsybunny/Lucy Appleby
Benjamin Grundy was enjoying the peace and quiet of the cabbage patch, with no noise but the gentle scrape of the hoe, the twitter of birds and the soft drone of bees. Years of manual labour had helped to maintain an unnaturally youthful physique for a man of 60 years, though he did find he needed a sit down more often these days. However, right now, he was diligently weeding as he indulged in quiet contemplation.
Alas, his tranquillity was shattered by a raucous shout emitted by the unmistakably grating voice of his cleaning lady, Mrs Gusset.
"Pig's got in, Mr Benjamin! Pig's got in!"
"What?" Benjamin frowned and walked over to the pig sty. Harriet was nowhere to be seen, and the unlatched gate swung to and fro.
"Damn that pig," he muttered, and headed towards the house.
"Eeeeeeeeeeee!" screeched Mrs Gusset. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
"Stop your caterwauling woman. Where is the wretched pig?"
"It's in the house, Mr Benjamin. It's trashing the living room. It's gone mad!"
"The pig is in the house?" Benjamin was aghast. "In my living room? No, it can't be."
"Oh but it is, Mr Benjamin. It is. I've seen it with my own two eyes," proclaimed Mrs Gusset, wringing her hands in a distraught manner.
"I don't believe it."
"It's true, by gum! It came hurtling into the kitchen and it stole a carrot from the vegetable box, and ran off chomping it. I tried to shoo it outside, but it wasn't having it. That's a very determined porker you've got Mr Benjamin, if I may say so. Sneaky too. Not to be trusted, is that pig."
"Out of the way, woman, let me at it. Give me the mop."
Mrs Gusset handed him her mop, and he advanced warily, holding the mop out ahead like a lance.
"Careful," warned Mrs Gusset. "It might bite you."
"Rubbish. Harriet doesn't bite. She - oh! She's got the mop! Give it here, you stupid animal."
Benjamin pulled the mop handle one way, and Harriet, her mouth full of mop head, pulled in the opposite direction.
"Aw, look at that! She wants to play tug of war. Nice piggie," said Mrs Gusset.
"Damn and blast!" thundered Benjamin. "How the hell did she get out of the pig sty?"
"Dearie me, I really don't know."
Benjamin muttered crossly and whacked the pig with the mop, trying to nudge her back out of the living room. But she wasn't going anywhere. Her little piggy eyes glared and she grunted angrily.
"Oh my! Watch it, Mr Benjamin - that's her mean and nasty grunt."
"Now listen here, I think I know more about my pig's grunt than you do, Mrs Gusset. Make yourself useful will you and go and get some rope."
"Ooooh, that's a smashing idea. I'll go and look in the shed."
"Be quick about it! We have to get this bloody pig out of my living room."
Harriet the pig rooted about behind the sofa and then went under the table and wouldn't come out. Benjamin tried to tempt her out with an apple, but she was wise to his tricks, and took her revenge by eating his best cushion and pooping on the rug.
Benjamin cursed and poked her with the mop. Harriet squealed loudly and maintained her position.
"If you don't come out right now," Benjamin informed the pig, "I'm having you for my dinner with peas and apple sauce."
"That's a very masterful thing to say to it," enthused Mrs Gusset as she returned with a length of rope. "Let it know whose boss, like."
Benjamin clicked his tongue in exasperation as he tied the end of the rope into a noose, and proceeded to lasso the pig, much to the delight of Mrs Gusset, who capered around the room making encouraging noises.
"Will you SHUT UP, woman! You"re making more noise than the pig. Silence. Let me concentrate."
At the third attempt, he managed to get the noose around Harriet's neck. It took the combined efforts of him and Mrs Gusset to pull Harriet out from under the table and take her back to her sty.
"Er, Mr Benjamin ..."
"What?"
"Well I have to be honest. I cannot deceive you any longer. I have to confess to my crime."
"Which is?" Benjamin stared hard at Mrs Gusset.
Mrs Gusset stared back at him for a brief moment, her face flushed pink, and then she lowered her gaze and confessed. "I let the pig out. I didn't mean to. It was an accident."
"Oh, you STUPID woman!"
"I'm very very sorry. Very sorry indeed I am. Sorry," she added lamely.
"Right. That's it. That's the third time this week you have done something stupid and caused me grief. Into the barn with you. Get over the saw horse and get your knickers down. It's the strap for you, woman - good and hard."
Benjamin strode into the barn and retrieved the strap from its nail on the wall near the door. Mrs Gusset whimpered and did as she was told. She raised her skirt and pulled down her big pink bloomers. They fell in a heap around her Wellington boots. She obediently bent over the saw horse, her big white wobbly bottom jutting out like a massive Neolithic monument.
Benjamin got stuck in. He grasped the strap in his right hand and brought it cracking down over her bare bottom.
"Owwweeeee!" she screeched.
"I'll give you something to screech about, woman. Letting my pig out to run amok in my house. Take that! And that!"
His arm rose and fell as he strapped every inch of her bottom. There were a lot of inches to cover. He got quite a sweat on as he administered a good old fashioned strapping to this careless woman. Her bottom had changed colour from white to pink, and was now cherry red, with raised welts from the strap. The cries and yowls of Mrs Gusset infuriated him further, and he gave her an extra dozen for making such an awful racket.
When he was done, Benjamin hung the strap back on its nail and stomped out to make himself a nice pot of tea.
Mrs Gusset lay over the spanking horse, her bottom sore and throbbing, her eyes glazed over, and a big smile on her face. Blimey, she thought, the things a girl has to do to get herself a spanking.
© flopsybunny/Lucy Appleby
Monday, June 24, 2013
Free Story - All in the Genes
Here's a naughty little story for you all. Hope you like it :D
ALL IN THE GENES by flopsybunny (AKA Lucy Appleby)
Tony was half way home when he realised he had left his saxophone in the music room. Cursing, he headed back to school and made his way through the now silent and deserted corridors to the second floor music room. Much to his relief, his sax was on the chair where he had left it. He picked it up and was about to leave when a blur of copper-gold caught his eye.
Mrs Winters was the school's hottest teacher, with her hour-glass figure, long shapely legs and smouldering green eyes that accentuated her red-gold curls. It was those red-gold curls that were bobbing up and down through the glass of the stock-room at the back of the music room.
Puzzled, Tony moved forward, and as he drew closer, heard little whimpers and moans. He cautiously peeped through the glass panel at the top of the door, and his jaw dropped in amazement at the sight of the glamorous Mrs Winters, minus her skirt and knickers, her legs wrapped round the waist of Bert the maintenance man. He had his eyes closed in ecstasy, and each hand grasped a plump buttock, as Mrs Winters bounced joyfully up and down on Bert's joystick.
At that moment, Mrs Winters turned her head and saw Tony staring at her. Her face turned white with shock, and was immediately followed by a deep red flush. Tony drank in the vision, winked lewdly, then turned and left. Boy - was he going to have some fun with this!
He had to wait a whole week before he had the opportunity to put his plan into action. It was a week filled with delicious anticipation and decadent fantasy involving Mrs Winters' delectable arse. But at last, Friday arrived. The last lesson of the day was music, and Tony enjoyed himself hugely by staring intently at Mrs Winters, observing how flustered she was becoming beneath his meaningful gaze. Her cheeks flushed crimson and she stammered and spluttered her way through the lesson.
When the bell went, she marched resolutely towards the door to join the avalanche of pupils jostling for freedom. But Tony had anticipated this and was ready for her. "Excuse me, Mrs Winters. I have some questions I need to ask you."
"Oh," she said, biting her lower lip. "Can't it wait until next week?"
"No. It can't," he said decisively, feeling a surge of power as he observed her obvious agitation. "Of course, if you are too busy," he added in a low voice, "I could always have a word with Mr Winters."
"There's no need for that," she said, her voice shaking.
"Agreed. I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding."
She stared at him, aghast. "What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing too terrible. You might even enjoy it. I know I will."
Tony closed the door firmly after the last pupil to leave the room, and then deftly steered Mrs Winters into the stock room.
"Now look here, Tony," she began. "You must NOT tell my husband. Is that clear?"
"You are in no position to negotiate terms, Mrs Winters."
"Even if you did tell him, he wouldn't believe you," she said defiantly.
"That's why I have the video of your little indiscretion on my mobile phone," lied Tony.
Mrs Winters gasped and clasped a hand to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears and she looked at him in desperation. "What is it you want?" "It's quite simple really. For the remainder of the year, after the last class on Friday, I want you in here, bare assed, bending over that table. And then I'm going to spank you."
"Sp...spank me?" She looked incredulous.
"Uh huh," grinned Tony.
Mrs Winters swallowed. Considering the alternative, perhaps a spanking wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, she didn't really have a choice. "Very well," she said quietly.
"I knew you would come round to my way of thinking." This was it. Now he had her ... his willing victim. His penis twitched at the prospect of the delights to come. "Stand and face the table."
She gave him one last pleading look, and then resignedly obeyed, standing with her back to him. Tony looked at her and shivered in excitement. "Hoist your skirt up to your waist," he said huskily.
She did. Oh yes. Very nice.
"Knickers down."
"Please...," she whimpered.
But he was resolute, and watched as she tugged at the waistband and pulled the flimsy lacy garment down to the top of her thighs. Tony drank in the curves of her shapely bare bottom.
"Take them right down to your ankles," he ordered.
She did so, revealing her lovely long legs, balancing on stylish three inch heels.
"Now bend over. More. More. Stick that arse out for me."
Mrs Winters made a peculiar mewling sound like a strangled cat. Her elbows on the table, she leaned over and thrust out her bottom obscenely.
"Legs apart," breathed Tony. Could it be he had found something even better than sex? "Oh yes," he said, as Mrs Winters complied, parting her thighs, revealing her glistening sex nestling in all its glory between her perfectly sculpted thighs. She had red-gold curls there too.
Tony licked his lips. His target was bared and ready. He reached out and felt each of her buttocks in turn, tentatively at first, and then he became bolder, and squeezed and kneaded the fleshy cheeks. Then he spanked her, watching in awe as her bottom dimpled beneath his touch. He delivered another slap, directly across the centre of her buttocks, which glowed afterwards with the imprint of his hand.
Tony began to spank her harder, delighting in the feel of her warm soft skin beneath his hand. He continued, inflamed by her little moans and whimpers, and focused on turning the once pale flesh to a wonderful crimson hue. He was in heaven - and Mrs Winters was right there with him, gasping out her enjoyment.
Tony's parents were amazed that their son suddenly developed a passion for music. So dedicated had he become that he even stayed behind after school for extra tuition, which resulted in a row of straight A's for his music homework.
"The lad obviously takes after me," said Tony's dad proudly. "It's all in the genes."
"Nonsense. You can't even sing in tune!" grinned Tony's mum.
"We'll have less of your cheek, woman, or it's the paddle for you. Hell - it's Friday and Tony's still at school." He grinned wolfishly. "I'm going to reacquaint your bottom with the big paddle - we won't be overheard."
With a big grin on his face, Tony's dad chased his wife upstairs and beat out a rousing tune on her bottom. The whacks were punctuated by a series of shrill wails.
What a musical family!
© flopsybunny
Tony was half way home when he realised he had left his saxophone in the music room. Cursing, he headed back to school and made his way through the now silent and deserted corridors to the second floor music room. Much to his relief, his sax was on the chair where he had left it. He picked it up and was about to leave when a blur of copper-gold caught his eye.
Mrs Winters was the school's hottest teacher, with her hour-glass figure, long shapely legs and smouldering green eyes that accentuated her red-gold curls. It was those red-gold curls that were bobbing up and down through the glass of the stock-room at the back of the music room.
Puzzled, Tony moved forward, and as he drew closer, heard little whimpers and moans. He cautiously peeped through the glass panel at the top of the door, and his jaw dropped in amazement at the sight of the glamorous Mrs Winters, minus her skirt and knickers, her legs wrapped round the waist of Bert the maintenance man. He had his eyes closed in ecstasy, and each hand grasped a plump buttock, as Mrs Winters bounced joyfully up and down on Bert's joystick.
At that moment, Mrs Winters turned her head and saw Tony staring at her. Her face turned white with shock, and was immediately followed by a deep red flush. Tony drank in the vision, winked lewdly, then turned and left. Boy - was he going to have some fun with this!
He had to wait a whole week before he had the opportunity to put his plan into action. It was a week filled with delicious anticipation and decadent fantasy involving Mrs Winters' delectable arse. But at last, Friday arrived. The last lesson of the day was music, and Tony enjoyed himself hugely by staring intently at Mrs Winters, observing how flustered she was becoming beneath his meaningful gaze. Her cheeks flushed crimson and she stammered and spluttered her way through the lesson.
When the bell went, she marched resolutely towards the door to join the avalanche of pupils jostling for freedom. But Tony had anticipated this and was ready for her. "Excuse me, Mrs Winters. I have some questions I need to ask you."
"Oh," she said, biting her lower lip. "Can't it wait until next week?"
"No. It can't," he said decisively, feeling a surge of power as he observed her obvious agitation. "Of course, if you are too busy," he added in a low voice, "I could always have a word with Mr Winters."
"There's no need for that," she said, her voice shaking.
"Agreed. I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding."
She stared at him, aghast. "What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing too terrible. You might even enjoy it. I know I will."
Tony closed the door firmly after the last pupil to leave the room, and then deftly steered Mrs Winters into the stock room.
"Now look here, Tony," she began. "You must NOT tell my husband. Is that clear?"
"You are in no position to negotiate terms, Mrs Winters."
"Even if you did tell him, he wouldn't believe you," she said defiantly.
"That's why I have the video of your little indiscretion on my mobile phone," lied Tony.
Mrs Winters gasped and clasped a hand to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears and she looked at him in desperation. "What is it you want?" "It's quite simple really. For the remainder of the year, after the last class on Friday, I want you in here, bare assed, bending over that table. And then I'm going to spank you."
"Sp...spank me?" She looked incredulous.
"Uh huh," grinned Tony.
Mrs Winters swallowed. Considering the alternative, perhaps a spanking wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, she didn't really have a choice. "Very well," she said quietly.
"I knew you would come round to my way of thinking." This was it. Now he had her ... his willing victim. His penis twitched at the prospect of the delights to come. "Stand and face the table."
She gave him one last pleading look, and then resignedly obeyed, standing with her back to him. Tony looked at her and shivered in excitement. "Hoist your skirt up to your waist," he said huskily.
She did. Oh yes. Very nice.
"Knickers down."
"Please...," she whimpered.
But he was resolute, and watched as she tugged at the waistband and pulled the flimsy lacy garment down to the top of her thighs. Tony drank in the curves of her shapely bare bottom.
"Take them right down to your ankles," he ordered.
She did so, revealing her lovely long legs, balancing on stylish three inch heels.
"Now bend over. More. More. Stick that arse out for me."
Mrs Winters made a peculiar mewling sound like a strangled cat. Her elbows on the table, she leaned over and thrust out her bottom obscenely.
"Legs apart," breathed Tony. Could it be he had found something even better than sex? "Oh yes," he said, as Mrs Winters complied, parting her thighs, revealing her glistening sex nestling in all its glory between her perfectly sculpted thighs. She had red-gold curls there too.
Tony licked his lips. His target was bared and ready. He reached out and felt each of her buttocks in turn, tentatively at first, and then he became bolder, and squeezed and kneaded the fleshy cheeks. Then he spanked her, watching in awe as her bottom dimpled beneath his touch. He delivered another slap, directly across the centre of her buttocks, which glowed afterwards with the imprint of his hand.
Tony began to spank her harder, delighting in the feel of her warm soft skin beneath his hand. He continued, inflamed by her little moans and whimpers, and focused on turning the once pale flesh to a wonderful crimson hue. He was in heaven - and Mrs Winters was right there with him, gasping out her enjoyment.
Tony's parents were amazed that their son suddenly developed a passion for music. So dedicated had he become that he even stayed behind after school for extra tuition, which resulted in a row of straight A's for his music homework.
"The lad obviously takes after me," said Tony's dad proudly. "It's all in the genes."
"Nonsense. You can't even sing in tune!" grinned Tony's mum.
"We'll have less of your cheek, woman, or it's the paddle for you. Hell - it's Friday and Tony's still at school." He grinned wolfishly. "I'm going to reacquaint your bottom with the big paddle - we won't be overheard."
With a big grin on his face, Tony's dad chased his wife upstairs and beat out a rousing tune on her bottom. The whacks were punctuated by a series of shrill wails.
What a musical family!
© flopsybunny
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