The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Monday, December 31, 2012


Let's start the new year right. What better way than with a free book? Starting Jan 1, 2013, and ending Jan3, The Naughty Wives Collection, Vol. 1, 2nd Ed. will be FREE at the Amazon kindle store. There are some great stories here, all about misbehaving wives and their alpha male husbands who love them dearly, but find that from time to time, a little wifely correction is in order.

Monday, December 24, 2012

The Romance of Spanking Vol. 2

Just in time for Christmas. Fire up those new Kindles and tablets that Santa left under the tree and head HERE

This second  Romance of Spanking story collection includes five stories of romantic encounters between adult men and women featuring hot spankings and sexy couplings. At nearly 25,000 words, it is a short story collection guaranteed to warm the heart and fire the imagination.

The stories include Beverly and the Principal, in which a pretty divorcee meets her daughter’s school principal over a behavioral problem. When mom finds out that she’s being asked to consent to a paddling for her daughter, she wonders if perhaps she shouldn’t find out first hand what she’s approving.

In The Legend of Sophia the Fair a retired knight recalls his days as the personal confidant and captain of the guard to the Lady Sophia, a courageous heroine who saved her kingdom from a predatory noble by performing a brave act of self sacrifice.

A Pirate’s Tale tells the story of a young woman pulled from the sea by a pirate captain who preys upon slave ships. The captain will tolerate the young lady on board his ship as long as she obeys his rules. But good behavior, it seems, is something this lass has to learn the hard way.

In The Central City Discussion Club a writer of spanking erotica is asked by a young woman to facilitate entrance to a unique club so she can retrieve her deceased uncle’s will and save her brother’s business. But gaining entrance to this club requires that you actually participate in club activities.

The Card Sharp tells the story of a young lady who has set her cap for a young man in her social club. She knows he especially likes two things, Texas Hold ‘Em poker and the female derriere. She intends to use both to snag her man.

Monday, December 17, 2012

The Mills Governess

What would you get if you mixed John Glassco's THE ENGLISH GOVERNESS with Spielberg's BACK TO THE FUTURE, threw in a pair of ill-behaved adolescent females, and added a war-of-the-sexes romance angle? You get THE MILLS GOVERNESS, my latest release on the Amazon Kindle platform (also at

The link is HERE

At nearly 18,000 words, The Mills Governess is a tale of spanking, domestic discipline and sex for lovers of both F/M and F/F stories in a 19th century setting, but with a time travel twist. It's "The English Governess" meets "Back to the Future."

Meet Gordon Mills. He is the inventor of a time machine that works by mental projection, and his company hopes to make time travel available to anyone who will pay for the experience. But Gordon has a secret. He longs to use his own invention to witness the punishment of a distant ancestor, a beautiful young woman named Emily Hollings. In possession of Emily's old diary, he knows when and where it happened. But something goes horribly wrong, and he finds himself locked in the body of Richard Mills, months before the event. Now Gordon, his persona bound to Richard's, must endure a whole summer at the hands of his new governess, one Harriet Harwell, who has been hired to tutor Richard and his two cousins, Elizabeth and Emily. Harriett is a beautiful but imperious governess of the old school, and her methods for maintaining discipline call for the employment of the paddle and the birch rod. In the meantime, Gordon's business partner Barbara Boynton seeks to try the machine herself to experience the same past. So follow Richard, Elizabeth and Emily, as well as Barbara, as they endure the strict regime of the harsh Miss Harwell. And be forewarned---she's no Mary Poppins.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

ATONEMENT, another excerpt

Here is another excerpt from my spanking novel, Atonement, currently available from Amazon. In this episode I have infiltrated the grounds of the mysterious cult that is the Revelation Church of the Atonement.

                                                 CHAPTER 10

What I had noticed was that the hooded robes worn by many of the residents of this odd commune made them seem anonymous. It was common see these robed figures walking from place to place within camera view like they were tourists. Sometimes they were accompanied by comely women (and sometimes by young men) in what appeared to be a short tunic, like a Hollywood version of a Roman slave costume. The robes were mostly a light gray, although a few were colored. It must be some indication of rank. Stephen, the inquisitor in the Punishment Hut, had worn green.

Lisa was able to report to us the afternoon after her visit to the Punishment Hut. "I'm sleeping on my tummy, that's for sure. My ass is red as a beet and feels prickly," she said from her closet hiding place.

"But are you ok?" asked Will. "That was some licking you took."

"Yeah, I'm ok. It was really bad, though. I've never felt anything like that whipping in the machine with that switch. I would have done anything to make it stop. I guess you noticed it got rather sexual though."

"We saw that."

Lisa shook her head. "Ohmigod...Will, they put us on those...those...things. I came twice while it was happening. I don't know what to say."

"It's ok--what about Elaine?"

"She's actually kind of torn. She was ready to leave but now she thinks maybe she should stay. She says they are talking about some initiation ceremony and then she will be a Handmaiden."

"What's a Handmaiden?"

"I think it's those men and women in tunics who trot around after the Confessors and the Elite, the guys in the robes. I think they sort of serve them and maybe they are sexual partners...I'm not sure."

"We're just going to have to pull her out. Make it look like she flew the coop on her own--you too," Will added.

"I'm ready. Two spankings and a switching in two days. It's like I'm twelve again and mom's on the warpath. This is too intense for me."

"Listen, Lisa, we need something. Rollin, the guy who came with us, wants to know if you can put your hands on one of those robes, and if you could make a key mold for the building in back of the Punishment Hut."

Lisa said she thought she could. There was a communal laundry of sorts and lots of them were around. She could do the key in fifteen seconds so the trick was not being noticed. She made arrangements with Will to have Elaine near the perimeter of the compound on some pretext. They would do an abduction there and send her back to her father. I hoped that he didn't plan on giving her a spanking when she got home. From the looks of it, she had enjoyed herself.

I snuck through the woods with Jim and Will to an area near a path behind the cabins. I was fitted with a wireless mic so that anything anyone said to me would be transmitted back to camp and recorded. Sure enough, Lisa and Elaine were there. They couldn't risk a scene with Elaine. Before she even knew what was happening Jim had grabbed her from behind and inserted a syringe in her arm. She collapsed like a ton of bricks. As Jim put her in a fireman's carry, Lisa handed me a hooded robe, a grey one. Perfect. I could get to the building and examine the machine inside more closely by pretending to be one of the robed brethren. It would only take an hour and it was dark anyway so I'd be in and out before anyone caught on. After the rendezvous with Lisa, Will had given me a key made from an impression on a resin compound that Lisa had jammed into the lock. More high tech wizardry.

I donned the robe and strolled back onto the grounds, heading in general for the Punishment Hut. The trick is to look like you know where you're going and what you are doing. I didn't want to look hesitant or confused, something that might prompt someone to be "helpful". I was in sight of the building when I was hailed by one of the "Lictors", the church's enforcement arm under the Spartan direction of Ms Klochek. This particular woman, in the quasi-military garb of starched blouse, tan shorts and Sam Browne belt was accompanied by a quite lovely woman in one of the skimpy tunics worn by the Handmaidens.

"I beg your pardon, Confessor...," she began, "but this Handmaiden, Sister Lynne is due for her weekly confession and penance. If you are not otherwise engaged could you see to her? You may use one of the cabins down the path from the Punishment Hut. I was supposed to take her to see Confessor Robert but he has been called away."

Sister Lynne was a pretty and slender bottle blonde with long hair combed to one side and short bangs covering her forehead. She gave me a shy smile and clasped her hands in front of her demurely. She had terrific legs. There was no help for it, I had to play along. I could get inside one of these cabins, put Lynne in the corner or something for her "penance" and slip out to the locked building.

"Of course, officer..." I read her name tag, "Cheryl".

"That's Lictor Cheryl, Confessor. We are called Lictors here."

"Yes, of course," I said, feeling like an idiot. But oddly, she seemed to accept my mistake and take it in stride. Were the Confessors not residents here, but visitors? Even so, you would think that as church elite they knew this stuff.

She led the way down the path to a cabin and unlocked it, ushering us in. Inside was a room with a bed like a hotel room. But there were some extra features surely not found at Motel 6. There was a padded stool and a padded sawhorse, both with buckling straps and padded cuffs on the legs. Along the wall was a St Andrews cross and a sturdy straight backed chair. A pair of manacles hung from the ceiling on a pulley and there was a low padded table with buckling straps attached to it. On hooks were a variety of paddles, floggers, straps and switches. On another table were various dildos and butt plugs along with jars and tubes of creams, lotions and gels. A guy and gal could have a fine old Saturday night in here.

"I will leave you now with Sister Lynne," she said with a broad smile. "Give her a real penance, she has been a naughty girl." She left, closing the door behind her. I decided to try and fake it.

"Sooo...Sister Lynne, you wish to confess to me?"

"Oh yes, Confessor. But first, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, ah, my child," I said in my best stentorian voice.

"Promise me," she said in a low whisper, twisting her fingers together and licking her lips, "promise me you'll punish me hard. And then you'll...take me, make me do things. I'll do anything."

I stepped back, stunned. Here was this attractive woman, in her early twenties I guessed, and she wanted to be punished. Hard, she said. I was trying to stay on task but I had to play a role here so as not to arouse suspicion.

" Ah, very well, Sister Lynne, what is that you've done and, uh, how many weeks has it been since your last confession?" My Catholic schoolboy conditioning was kicking in.

Lynne took a big breath. "I-I've been...that is, I've p-pleasured myself. At night. When no one was looking. And I've been having terrible thoughts about...doing it."

"I see," I countered gravely. "This is indeed serious. I an glad you have confided in me. We must, however, begin your penance. The cleansing pain of atonement will drive these evil thoughts and deeds away." I'd heard enough of the lingo so this sounded right. I figured to give her the good spanking she obviously wanted and then plan a hasty exit, so I walked over to the chair and moved it into the center of the room.

"Stand at my side, Lynne," I said after seating myself. She moved obediently to my right side and stood, waiting. "Get across my knee, girl," I commanded. She hastened to obey, lowering herself face down over my thighs. After several days in the woods watching the proceedings in the commune, the contact of Lynne's soft body over my knee gave me an instant erection. The little tunic rode up the back of her thighs. She had very nice legs. I flipped the little tunic up, uncovering her seat. Her ass was beautiful. The twin cheeks jutted skyward, attractively contained by silky white tap pants. She had a very full bottom for a thin girl and the lower part of her bottom cheeks peeked out the bottom of the tap pants.

"Are you ready, Sister Lynne," I said rubbing her hind cheeks in circles with my palm.

She squirmed and moaned a breathless, "Yes, sir."

I started spanking the chubby cheeks briskly, alternating sides. She moaned and rubbed her thighs together. Her ass was wonderfully soft and resilient. After about 25 or 30 swats, I stopped and moved my hand to the elastic waistband of the pretty tap pants. Her response was to lift her body slightly permitting me to slip the pants to her knees. Her bare bottom was gorgeous--well proportioned  round globes that now bore tell-tale reddish handprints. I rubbed the splendid cheeks then resumed the chastisement spanking with a constant rhythm. Her response was to bob her ass up and down, almost as if seeking to meet my descending hand. The sound of the steady smack! smack! smack! of my palm filled the little cabin. After about a hundred good smacks her bottom was red, my palm was stinging and she was breathing heavily. I moved my hand down between her legs. As I suspected, her sex was slick with arousal. She stiffened as my fingers found her moist slit and she almost purred with pleasure as I manipulated her swollen clit.

"Oh...oh...sir," she croaked, humping her mons against my hand. I kept it up for a few moments then stopped.

"Is that what you felt Sister? Lust?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Oh, it was wicked. I-I should be punished harder, sir." She was panting with desire. Obviously this was going to take longer than I thought......

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Another FREE eBook!

In conjunction with the release of ATONEMENT, a spanking novel, I am making its prequel, ISLAND JUSTICE, free to Amazon Kindle readers for a period of three days starting Thursday December 6. The novella, ISLAND JUSTICE introduces several of the characters who appear in ATONEMENT and is set in the same time frame, the mid twenty-first century. It is a time when governments all over the world have re-instituted the practice of corporal punishment for select crimes. In the US, states, counties and municipalities have adopted various versions of an old fashioned trip to the woodshed in order to deal with non-violent crimes such as drunk driving, vandalism and petty theft. In ISLAND JUSTICE, three girls discover that a balmy Caribbean island is just as tough on casual drug use as the most repressive authoritarian state. So join me (Rollin) along with my kinky secretary Jane and my equally kinky would-be law partner, Harriet, as we take on the judicial machinery of a former British protectorate with a tradition of stern justice to try and save college coeds Allison, Erin and Susan from a painful reckoning.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

ATONEMENT, a spanking novel

   Just released in the Amazon Kindle store, ATONEMENT is a classic spanking novel in the tradition of Paul Little and Will Henry. 

The link is   here 

Dr. Henry Mason has a problem. His daughter Libby is missing and a predatory corporation claims that it owns all the rights to his new invention, a spanking machine. Welcome to America in the mid twenty-first century as institutional corporal punishment is reintroduced into the justice system in the wake of jail overcrowding and juvenile delinquency. And riding the wave of the cultural acceptance of corporal punishment is a strange cult, The Church of Revelation Atonement.

 So come along with our attorney/private investigator, who, with the help of his kinky secretary Jane, encounters Jessica, the gorgeous wife of Dr. Mason, is aided by Allison, a coed with a penchant for voluptuous chastisement, witnesses a public flogging of college coeds in a rural county jail, rescues Christy, a fugitive from the cult with lurid tales to tell, matches wits with Anna, a sadistic cult enforcer, goes under cover only to have sexy encounters with nubile maidens ensnared by the cult, meets a hot college professor eager to learn about 17th century punishments first hand, and experiences myriad other salacious adventures, all too numerous to mention.

At over 48,000 words and 153 pages, ATONEMENT is a steamy novel of sex and spanking integrated into an intriguing plot that features a missing girl, a bizarre cult, a stolen invention, and a bevy of nubile beauties all eager to experience kinky thrills at the hands of an intrepid hero. And all of this for three dollars and forty-nine cents.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Guest Author---mel b owen

Today I'm bringing in another guest author, "mel b owen." I found this writer on usenet in the very early days of the internet and for me, at least, he had a voice that I found quite unique. His basic orientation is F/M. In particular, his stories tend to be about his domestic arrangement with his wife, Abby, a clinical psychologist and a sort of very together no nonsense woman who puts up with the mischievous Mel's antics...up to a point. The stories are first person POV with "mel" as the psuedo-autobiographical author. He impressed me so much that I wrote a series of similar stories which are titled "The Truth About Andy" in which I tried to capture that tone. He didn't write much. In fact, all I have of this author's output is seven or eight stories. I have no idea how to reach mel but I'd sure like to hear from him if he is still around. This one is called

"...and spank you I shall"

Abbey and I were seeing a lot of each other at the time, but we weren't married yet. In fact, I'd asked her to marry me and she was still thinking it over. She had called me to talk one Friday afternoon. When we were through, she asked me to patch in her mother so that the three of us could finalize plans for my visit over the weekend. I managed that electronic feat and, after a few minutes of chat, Abbey said that she had some things to talk over with her mom, so I could hang up.

I did hang up, but for some reason the phone didn't disconnect. I could distinctly hear Abbey's mom raising a question that, frankly, I'd thought of more than once myself: What in the world did Abbey see in me?

"I know you think he's wonderful," Mrs. Brookshier said, "and he is in many ways. But you're a no-nonsense girl, and there's a mischievous twelve-year old boy inside Mel that's going to drive you crazy."

"I'm used to dealing with twelve-year old boys," Abbey said dreamily. "Remember, I taught seventh- and eighth-grade Sunday school for three years."

"There's a big difference. When a real twelve-year old acts up, you can bend him over your desk and warm up his buns with a paddle -- which I know you did more than once. That's not an option with husbands."

"Maybe not," Abbey said without conviction. "But Mel loves me. If I want him to change, he will."

"You're absolutely right, and that's what worries me. He'll get rid of that mischievous twelve-year old boy, but I think it's that pre-teen rascal inside him that makes you love him. Once he's gone, I'm not sure you'll really be happy."

"Amor vincit omnia," Abbey said, displaying her splendid classical background.

I discreetly disconnected and left the office to buy some things for the weekend. The conversation didn't really bother me, although it should have. I guess it was the twelve-year old reacting. All I could think of was, how can I make a joke out of this?

I was buying flowers and wine at the mall when the pun came to me. I was walking through the Housewares section of a department store and saw a display of aluminum pans with four cups each. The enlarged box read, yellow letters on blue, BUN WARMERS! I figured -- or, more accurately, the twelve-year old rascal figures -- "It's fate!"

I bought one of the things and took it home. I threw the pan aside and kept the box. Then I went down to my workshop. I took a beautiful piece of solid maple and got to work with my Shopsmith and my woodburning tool. Four hours later I had the paddle I described in Nine-Fold Path: Sixteen inches long, three-and-a-half inches wide, a quarter-inch thick, sanded, polished, and varnished, and decorated on the front with my nifty little slogan:

(For Mischievous Twelve-Year Old Boys)


One Dozen Strokes: Warm Buns

Two Dozen Strokes: Red Hot Buns


I put that masterpiece in the box and gift-wrapped it. Late Saturday afternoon I managed to get alone with Abbey in the upstairs sitting room and presented it to her.

She unwrapped it with a look of intrigued interest on her face. The expression changed to puzzlement when she saw the box. Then she opened the box and saw the paddle. Her face lighted up.

At first she giggled, murmuring "You crazy idiot" and similar endearments. Then her expression took on a bit more gravitas. I realized, with a bit of a chill, that she was wondering whether I was suggesting a way to solve the little problem her mother had identified.

"Is this just a joke, Mel," she asked, "or are you being serious?"

"As serious as I ever get," I answered evasively.

"Some of this wording sounds a bit familiar," she said suggestively.

"Yeah," I stammered. "The phone didn't fully disconnect yesterday and I accidentally overheard a snatch of what you and your mom said after I'd signed off."

She raised the paddle with her right hand and smacked the palm of her left. Hard. She looked appraisingly at the red mark this produced, and seemed to think about the sting for a moment. Then she looked back at me with that steady, penetrating gaze of hers.

"Here's the way it looks from where I sit," she said. "If there was some technical fluke and you accidentally overheard a word or two, I don't see anything wrong with that. But if you deliberately eavesdropped on a private conversation, after you realized that was what was happening, then it seems to me that you're going to have to be disciplined."

I decided to tell the truth.

"It was deliberate after a few seconds," I said. "I realized you were talking about me, and I just listened in. It wasn't malicious -- "

"Of course not. There's not a malicious bone in your body."

" -- just impulsive. Childishly impulsive."

"So what you're saying," she said carefully, "is that you need a spanking."

"I guess that's about the size of it," I managed.

"Don't say that unless you really mean it, Mel," she warned me. "Corporal punishment is something I'm very serious about. I got spanked when I needed it, and I've spanked people who had it coming."

Realizing that my entire future might be at stake, I squared my shoulders and took the plunge.

"I meant every word of it," I said. "If you're willing to do the honors, I'm ready to take my punishment."

"Very well," she said decisively as she stood up. "Come with me."

She took me by the arm and marched me out of the room. I had no idea where we were going. The thing that terrified me most as we walked down the long hallway, the stairs, and through the back of the first floor wasn't the thought that I was about to get a spanking. It was the fear that parent or sibling or maid would see us and interpret the provocative vignette correctly.

Fortunately, that didn't happen. She marched me through the backdoor and across the driveway, past the three car garage to a little storage room built next to the last bay. I'd never been in there before. As I strode in with her, I saw lawn and garden implements stored neatly against the common wall, tools hanging from a pegboard above a worktable at the back wall, and a face cord of fireplace logs stacked up against the outside wall. I realized that Abbey had just walked me into a cliche: She had literally taken me to the woodshed.

Letting go of my arm, she walked over to the work table and perched on it. She stretched her left thigh across the length of the table, letting the rest of her leg dangle over the end. The table was about waist-high, so she had to anchor her right leg to the concrete floor by planting the ball of her right foot firmly there. Flourishing the paddle, she looked at me with an encouraging grin.

"Those pants will have to come down, won't they?" she asked/ordered. "Getting a spanking with your pants up is like washing your feet with your socks on."

I hesitated for a moment and she cajoled me a bit.

"Remember the Irish verse James Joyce made famous in Portrait of the Artist," she said. "'It can't be helped/It must be done/So down with your trousers/And out with your buns.'"

I think it was "bum" in Joyce's version, but I figured I wasn't here for literary criticism. I lowered my blue jeans and jockey shorts, then shuffled over to her in response to her beckoning index finger. When I was close enough, she slapped her left thigh, just below the hem of her white shorts.

"All right, Mel," she said. "Bottoms up."

I bent over leg and hoisted myself until I was standing on tiptoes. Sensing that I was really in for it, I grabbed the far edge of the work table and got a tight grip on it. I braced myself for the first stroke, but Abbey had a question first.

"Mel," she said tentatively, "do you really think this is appropriate?"

I hesitated and thought about it. This was the woman I'd asked to marry me. I was sprawled over her knee with my pants down and my bottom up, about to get a world-class spanking. Did I think this was appropriate?

"Yes," I said.

"So do I," she said decisively.

Exactly one second later the paddle smacked my bottom. The pain was excruciating -- a sharp sting, a searing burn. I would have yelled, but the pain literally took my breath away. Two seconds later the second stroke fell, and I yelped.

"You're going to grow (SMACK!) up quite a bit (SMACK!) in the next minute (SMACK!) or so, Mel (SMACK!)," she said calmly. "You'll hate it (SMACK!) while it's happening (SMACK!), but you'll be a better (SMACK!) man for it when (SMACK!) it's over, and one day (SMACK!) you'll thank me for it (SMACK!)."

She had a natural affinity for the task she had set herself. It's usually hard to administer an over-the-knee spanking with a sixteen-inch paddle, but Abbey had a well-vectored stroke, slightly down and mostly sweeping sideways. I couldn't think of much as smack after smack fell on my blazing bottom, but one odd thing that did occur to me was a basic Physics equation: F = MA. Force equals mass times acceleration. She had plenty of both, and she was making the most of them.

"Well, that's two dozen," she said crisply after an eternity of heat, pain, and chastening humiliation. "Are you sticking with your guarantee? Do you have red hot buns?"

"Absolutely," I squeaked. "I think I undersold my product."

"It's a masterpiece," she said. "Anyway, you'll have to do some corner time, and then I'll offer some tender ministrations to your poor, throbbing bottom. You took that magnificently, by the way. You'll have some handsome bruises to show the boys in the locker room if you work out on Monday."

"I'll bet."

"Just remember," she said, speaking tenderly now. "I said I was serious about corporal punishment, and I meant it. It is in my nature to spank naughty bottoms -- and spank yours I shall."

We were married three months later.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Kingsbridge 1337

Did you ever read a book and come across a passage and say to yourself, "why did he stop there?" Well, I have and I decided to do something about it. In Ken Follet's book "World Without End" the village is getting back to normal after the ravages of the Black Death have receded. In a throwaway line the author states that a certain female character was "stripped and whipped" by the constable for stealing a chicken. Then he moves on. Well, wait a minute. Let's flesh this out......

                      Kingsbridge 1337

It had been a hard Winter. But then again Winters were always hard on the peasantry of England in the 14th century. The Black Death had ravaged Europe. England was at war with France. The bridge over the river at Kingsbridge had collapsed. Conditions such as these made the keeping of the King's peace in every shire and village a difficult job. John Constable's job was to maintain the peace and protect property on behalf of the Prior of Kingsbridge. In this role he had the discretion and freedom to deal with petty crime, break up fights, settle minor disputes on the spot and generally keep order. His jurisdiction was only over the serfs. The landed gentry operated as a law unto themselves answerable only to the king. The clergy answered to the Prior, who was John's employer. John enforced the law for the Prior and also for the Reeve, who was the Earl's administrator. The Earl of Shiring provided protection in times of war and was chiefly responsible for combating outlawry as was common in feudal England and elsewhere in Europe.

But now it was spring. The bridge was under repair, but with so many deaths there had been few to work the land and food was scarce. Theft was on the rise.

For minor offenses John had the power to decide guilt or innocence and mete out punishment appropriate to the crime. A drunken brawl, a spat between neighbors, these offenses were dealt with on the spot. For more serious crimes, John would bring the accused before the Prior or the Reeve. The town had a square and in it were stocks and a stout post. Crimes could be punishable by confinement to the stocks or a whipping-or even sometimes, both. Gaol, for any length of time was not an option. Too many hands were needed to till the soil, husband the animals and make the goods. So, there was the lash and the stocks, and on occasion, the gallows, to keep order.

 John employed a whip to mete out the town's justice. The whip was a single thong of braided leather, three feet long and tapering to a thin point. The braid was secured to the end of a wooden handle that was nearly as long. The long handle provided accuracy and leverage, and the lash was long enough to have some weight to it but short enough that John could ply it exactly as he wished. He was very skilled in its application. He could reduce the most hardened prisoner to piteous blubbering and pleas for mercy. A lashing at John's hands was an extremely painful experience. It was meant to be. The serfs of Kingsbridge were hard people and the keeping of order required that the citizenry fear the consequences of breaking the law.

John had been taught how to use the whip by his father, also a constable before him. Men were usually given the upper discipline. Forced to remove their shirts, they were secured to the whipping post with hands tied to a ring at the top of the post. If the number of prescribed stripes was large, however the prisoner was likely stripped naked so that the entire backside could be whipped. This was actually more merciful because too many lashes concentrated on the back could cause open lacerations and resulting infection. The stripes were usually laid on horizontally across the culprit's backside. Ten lashes might suffice for a drunken brawl. Other crimes such as theft could get the offender three dozen, a most severe punishment.

Women were given the lower discipline, mostly. For a minor offense a woman might be placed in the stocks and her skirts lifted, thus baring her buttocks. There were pegs at the top of the stocks which could hold her garments in place and out of the way. John could use a long switch, a birch rod, or on occasion, a butter paddle on the offender's bared buttocks. If the offender was to be whipped, however, it was at the post, and she was stripped naked to be flogged. Indeed it was sometimes his unfortunate duty to flog a woman accused of witchcraft. Just the previous Winter a poor wretch had been convicted of witchcraft and sentenced to be flogged to the blood, tied to the cart's tail and whipped again all the way to gallows crossing. Sometimes men were flogged this way, too, if the sentence called for a large number of lashes. John could lay stripes from an offender's calves to her shoulders if he wished, but chose mostly to concentrate on the back and buttocks.

This was a grim part of the job, but John worked for the Prior and if the offense required the punishment, he carried it out. Generally, however John sought to mete out justice in a way that the townspeople would support. He was not a tyrant and most agreed with his steady and seasoned judgment. Punishments were made appropriate to the crime.

The theft of food and in particular, animals, was viewed as an egregious offense because it could mean the difference between life and starvation. So when John was told that Bess Hampton's chicken had been stolen, it was a cause for concern. The chicken had been kept in its coop which was attached to Cam Hampton's modest house, but when Bess went to fetch it for supper it was gone. John wasn't hopeful that he could identify the culprit. That the bird had been stolen was clear. The latch was undone and muddy footprints led away from Hampton's house. The imprint was small and not deep. John hoped it was not a child. For thievery a child could be birched in the stocks, a severe punishment if the child were malnourished. Either way, the chicken had a broken beak, hence it had been destined for the pot.

Fortunately the footprints did not lead to a child, but to the door of the house of Hugh Thompson whose wife Glynnie was cooking supper--- with Bess's chicken in the pot. The chicken's head with its telltale broken beak lay on the cottage's bare earthen floor. This is what John saw as he entered Glynnie Thompson's cottage. John could spot a guilty look and Glynnie's face gave her away, as he strode through the doorway. That look told him all he needed to know. Standing next to Glynnie was Elspeth, her grown 18 year old sister. Recently widowed as a result of the plague, she had moved into Glynnie's home. Elspeth tried to kick the lopped off head into the corner as soon as she saw John enter, but he saw the motion.

"I'll have that if you please," he ordered the girl. Not knowing who exactly was complicit in all of this, he addressed them both. "You are under arrest and you will both come with me to see the Prior."

Since this was not the Earl's business, jurisdiction fell to the Prior who presided over the affairs of the town that did not concern the Earl or his possessions. Prior Godwin was an ambitious man who disguised his ambition with piety. But he was also a dour man who believed that all God's children were sinners whose wicked impulses needed to be curbed. Under this Prior, discipline was harsh and it was with some trepidation that John brought the two offenders before him.

An audience was arranged in the abbey. In attendance were John Constable, Bess Hampton and Cam Hampton for the prosecution. Glynnie Thompson and Elspeth Thompson were in the dock. Hugh Thompson was there to plead for his wife's sake. He had returned from a supply trip just in time to see his wife hauled off by John Constable. He was understandably bewildered to see his wife and sister-in-law being led away in Constable's custody. Before the hearing could be arranged they were lodged in the town gaol, which held a few one room cells. Prisoners did not wait there long because guilt or innocence was quickly determined and the punishment swiftly carried out.

Hugh was granted leave to speak to her. When she told him what had transpired he could only say, "Good God, woman, what have you done?" He was genuinely afraid. People could be hanged for theft. Gypsies and outlaws had gone to gallows crossing if the theft were serious enough. It remained to be seen what the Prior would do.

First the Prior heard from Bess Hampton who complained that when she went to fetch the chicken it was gone. She had seen Glynnie earlier that day eyeing her coop. Cam Hampton had had the foresight to stock his supplies of animals with profits made from his business and knew that several of his neighbors coveted his good fortune.

Surprisingly, Glynnie admitted the theft, but defended her actions. "It is not fair that Bess and Cam Thompson have all of that food for the two of them. I have mouths to feed and my Hugh's shop has fallen on hard times. We haven't had fresh meat for a month. So when I saw the gate to the coop open, I thought she would not miss such a little thing. How could she not share with us?"

"And what about this one?" the Prior wanted to know, indicating Elspeth.

"I didn't steal," she said, pleading with the Prior.

"She sought to hide the evidence," said John. "Had she kicked the chicken's head under the table out of my sight there could be no means by which I could have determined whose chicken it was."

The Prior thought for a moment. "Here is my judgment," he said. "Glynnie Thompson, you are convicted of theft of Bess Hampton's chicken. This is a serious offense, likely born out of jealousy and envy.  For this offense you will be lodged in the gaol until market day which is two days hence. At that time you will be taken to the square and stripped naked for the whipping post. You will receive 39 lashes from John Constable's whip."

Glynnie gasped. Thirty nine lashes was a severe punishment.

"Elspeth, you were not involved in the theft but you attempted to hide the fact of Glynnie's guilt. This offense is similar to lying which goes against God's law. For this you will be lodged in the gaol until market day and on that day you will be placed in the stocks and given one dozen strokes with a stout switch."

The women were clearly distraught. Glynnie hugged Elspeth and they cried together bemoaning their fate. Then Glynnie turned to the prior. She fell to her knees. Clasping her hands together she pleaded for mercy.

"I am just a poor woman fallen on hard times. I'll never steal again, I swear it. Don't let him whip me, please. I can't bear it."

 The Prior was having none of it. "The theft of food in times like these would have been grounds for the penalty of hanging. Be grateful that your lives are being spared. Your punishment will be an example to all who would flout the law and order of this priory and God's law as well. Thou shalt not steal. It is a law you know well."

He addressed John. "Make sure you lay on well, John Constable, for these wicked women have sinned and deserve to have their backsides soundly whipped."

Amid the women's wailing John took them both by an arm and escorted them to the gaol, there to await their fate on market day, two days hence. The cell was dark and cold. Glynnie's husband was allowed to bring them food and a blanket.

"Is there nothing you can do?" wailed Glynnie to her husband.

"I have tried to appeal to the Prior but he will not see me, wife. I'm afraid you will simply have to endure the stripes. You should not have stolen from Bess." Hugh was genuinely distraught. His own wife, to be stripped naked for all to see and shamefully whipped. He would have punished her himself, had the Prior allowed it. He'd have taken the leather to her all right. But it was too late for that. The law was the law. He'd have her back home soon and that thought gave him some small comfort.

Crowds began to gather early on Market Day. Normally it was crowded anyway, but word had spread that two women of the village were to be whipped that day. Whippings or executions were always guaranteed to draw crowds, especially when it was evident that one of those to be punished would be flogged naked-and an attractive woman to boot! The punishment, thirty nine lashes, dictated that Glynnie's clothing was to be removed. John knew that the stripes had to be spread out or her skin might break. The humiliation of being stripped naked was an unpleasant prospect, but it was for her own good. John reflected that she probably didn't view it that way.

As John expected, the women began to wail when he came to fetch them. It was noon and the crowd was tending toward unruly. John wished to dispatch justice sooner rather than later. Better to disperse the crowd before drinking and fights broke out.

"Come on now, you two. It's time," he said gruffly. John had deputized a pair of men that he had counted upon in the past. His son Tom was also with him. The young Tom had prepared the limber switch that John would use. It was three feet long, thick as the thumb at one end and tapering to the size of a little finger at the other.

The women tried to struggle but John had their hands bound in front of them. He tied a lead to both so he could lead them to the post and the pillory which were set upon a raised platform in the center of the square. Steps allowed the condemned to ascend the platform which was several feet high to separate the prisoners from the crowd, and to allow all to see justice being meted out. The procession emerged from the priory next to the square. The crowd saw them and began to jeer. The women visibly quailed at the verbal onslaught as they were led through the jeering throng.

"You'll dance a lively jig today," said a stout matron.

"Thief! I hope your backside is well striped." Said another.

Other comments of a similar nature were hurled at the women as they stumbled their way to the dais. When they arrived, the herald who accompanied the procession prepared to read the charges and the prior's judgment from a rolled parchment. The crowd grew silent.

"For the crime of aiding and abetting theft Elspeth Thompson has been convicted and her sentence shall be thus: to be placed in the pillory and given the lower discipline with twelve strokes of the switch."

The crowd roared. The men took notice. Elspeth Thompson was a comely girl with blonde hair and a pretty face.

"For the crime of theft of a chicken, Glynnie Thompson has been convicted and her sentence is thus: she shall be stripped and flogged at the post with thirty nine stripes well laid on."

Cheers and jeers erupted. The comely wench would be stripped naked for her whipping.

Now the crowd really took notice. Glynnie Thompson was a dark haired beauty and the fact that she was to be stripped naked had the onlookers keenly excited, especially the men. But women too seemed just as pleased at the prospect of a pretty woman like Glynnie stripped and bound at the post for the application of the lash. 

John Constable motioned to his men, indicating Elspeth. "Untie her and put her in the stocks," he said. Elspeth struggled but it was no use. They forced her head and hands into the yoke and brought the top half down. She was helpless and bent over. In this position her buttocks were thrust out prominently. She babbled woefully as John Constable took up her skirts in back, baring her nicely rounded buttocks for all to see. The twin cheeks were shapely and full. Bent over as she was, her bottom jutted out lewdly. She could well stand the punishment with a proud rump like that, thought John. The skirt was kept out of the way by stuffing the ends in holes in the cross bar and securing them with pegs. Her feet were strapped together making any but the slightest movement impossible. Satisfied that his prisoner was secured, John asked his son to hand him the switch.

John stood to the left of the pillory and slowly tapped the switch against Elspeth's quivering seat. "Twelve strokes, Elspeth Thompson," he intoned.

He drew back his arm. The switch hovered in the air at the apex of his backswing. Then Swissh...thwick! it descended with a blur landing square across the crowns of Elspeth's bottom. Elspeth screamed and a vivid red line appeared across the center of her bottom.

John placed the switch a little lower. Tap, tap, then a second swish...thwick! rang out. Elspeth cried out in pain. The switch whined through the air again. Swishh....thwick! Elspeth shrieked louder.

John proceeded to deliver a slow, deliberate switching. He carefully lined up each stroke, marking the spot of its intended impact with a soft tap. Each time the switch landed, it struck with a swish....whuick! that made Elspeth's bottom cheeks quiver. Her shrieks grew more frantic with each stroke. John ignored them. All prisoners screamed under the lash and Elspeth was no exception. John knew it was a painful switching. The red weals John placed across her buttocks and her piteous cries were evidence to John that the punishment was having the proper effect. Elspeth drummed her feet and tried to weave her body around, but the stocks held her fast. It only made for a lascivious display as her buttocks jiggled. It couldn't be helped. John would wait until her writhing had stopped and would then apply another stroke. Swishh...whiuck! "Yeiiii...ahh!" shrieked Elspeth. Horizontal weals laddered her shapely bottom cheeks.

"She's getting it good, mind you," whispered one stout village woman to another. "I'd not want to be in her shoes," admitted her friend. "John Constable can fair lay on a right and proper switchin'. Look at her dance."

A village woman said to her daughter, "Such is the price of sin, daughter. See how her buttocks quiver when the switch strikes."

Indeed the switching was a sound one. By its end Elspeth was crying heartfelt sobs and her bottom was a patchwork of angry red stripes. He commanded his son to unlock the stocks and let her rise. She rose from her bent over position and her hands flew to her scorched backside, unmindful of her partial nudity.

It was now time for Glynnie's whipping.

"I'll untie you, madame, but you must remove your dress. Else we'll have to do it for ye."

"Oh please, John Constable, don't strip me naked. It's shameful, is what it is. Oh don't," Glynnie begged.

"I got my orders, and what's shameful is your stealing. Come on now, off with your clothing."

Glynnie began crying but she knew that if she did not obey, her clothes might be torn or cut off and clothing was too precious to allow that to happen. So, choking and sobbing, she stripped off her smock. Underneath was a shift made of a coarse cloth which she slowly and reluctantly pulled over her head. Underneath that she was naked. There were murmurs in the crowd as Glynnie removed her clothing, for Glynnie was a young and very fetching young wife. She had dark hair and a voluptuous body. Her waist was small but her hips were wide and she had well formed breasts.

John gripped her by the arm and led her to the post. As he stretched her arms above her head to secure them to an iron ring, all could see her lovely buttocks, twin full ovals separated by a dark crease. She had to lean forward slightly and this pose thrust her buttocks back as if to present them for correction. With her ankles secured with shackles to the post at the bottom she could move little.

John stepped back. She was ready. The spectators grew quiet. It wasn't every day that a pretty young wife was bared and secured to the post for a good sound whipping. Glynnie looked fearfully over her shoulder at John as he hefted the whip, flicking it to limber his arm and test its flex. He stood to the side and slightly to Glynnie's rear. He was ready to begin.

John held the handle in his right hand and drew the lash through his left, then with a circular motion he swirled the whip over his shoulder. As his arm descended the tip accelerated and landed full across the crowns of Glynnie's buttocks with a loud crack. "Aieee...!" She shrieked in pain and jerked herself up on tip toe. A red line appeared across her bottom.

The spectators winced with Glynnie. Only one lash, but if that one was exemplary, the woman was in for a painful chastisement.

John turned to his son. "Count," he said. "That was one." He drew back the whip for another stroke. It landed in nearly the same spot with a "whifft....crack!" Glynnie shrieked again and danced in her fetters. John drew the strand though his fingers a third time as his arm drew back and with a fluid circular motion the whip's tip flew back over John's shoulder before reversing direction as John brought his arm forward. With a whine it descended to impact Glynnie's lush bottom cheeks which rippled as the whip struck. "Yahhh.....owww!" cried Glynnie and she rose on tip-toe again, obviously in severe pain.

John had a technique. He stood to the side of the post and raised both hands over his head. Then he drew the whip back letting the lash slide through the fingers of his left hand. Taking a step forward he would pivot and swing his arm towards Glynnie. The whip traced a wide arc before impacting the soft target flesh with a loud crack. Using the same practiced stroke John laced Glynnie's buttocks with ten red weals that had her wailing and dancing on her toes. Her jiggling buttocks provided a lurid spectacle for the crowd who had gathered to watch the punishment, and many a hand strayed under a tunic as the whipping progressed.

John next applied several strokes to Glynnie's back and shoulders. She screamed anew at this different, but no less intense, pain from the lash on a different place. He placed seven or eight red stripes across her back then directed the lash to the tops of her thighs. These lashes made Glynnie shriek in agony.

Glynnie had never felt pain like this. It felt as if her backside were burning with the fires of hell. Each lash was a line of pure fire. Glynnie could only writhe and cry out in her agony and beg John Constable to stop. But she knew he would not stop until she'd been given the full dose of 39 lashes. She was delirious with pain and had no idea how many strokes she had absorbed.

To the spectators it was the lurid display they had anticipated. It wasn't every day that a beautiful woman was lashed naked at the post. Glynnie writhed at the post like it was a lover with whom she consorted. Each lash made her body spasm. Her rippling flesh juddered with each crack of the whip, especially her buttocks which were dark red and seemed swollen to twice their normal size.

John paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. He could hear the snatches of conversation from the crowd who craned their necks to get a good look at the naked woman at the whipping post.

"Do you see those welts, woman? Take care you obey the law." The woman shivered, no doubt imagining her naked body tied to the post and awaiting the lash.

 Another woman said to her companion, "Did you see how she danced under the whip?" The companion said, "A shameful spectacle, but it serves her right. She should dance a merry jig to John Constable's whip."

Glynnie wriggled at the post sobbing for mercy, but there would be none until it finished. Her buttocks rippled at the impact of the lash and many would later remark how Glynnie had rubbed herself on the post like it was a lover, the whip spurring her on to greater passion.

John had laid thirty lashes across Glynnie's backside and she was striped from her shoulders to her knees. Time to drive the lesson home, thought John.
Swisshhh.....thwick! The whip fell full across Glynnie's buttocks again and she wailed, "Aieee....ahhh....!"
Whirrr....whack! This time it landed with a loud splat. Her body jerked. The opulent cheeks of her behind juddered. The whip whined its song of pain as John Constable meted out the remainder of the lashes using that fluid stroke that striped Glynnie's bottom until it was a seething mass of swollen red.

"Thirty nine," announced John when the last lash had struck. "It is finished. Take her down." The men untied the naked woman, her body streaked with red stripes from her shoulders to her thighs, and tossed her shift to her. Weeping and shaking she managed to pull it over her head. "It's over now," bellowed John. "Go about your business." The crowd began to disperse. Justice had been done.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Don't forget--FREE eBook

Today, tomorrow and Friday A VERY BRIGHT GIRL (and other schoolgirl spanking stories) is FREE in the Amazon Kindle store. (See panel on right.) Even if you don't have a Kindle or tablet or eReader you can get it and use mobipocket or Kindle for PC. Both are free downloads. So what are you waiting for? Get it today and when you head over to Aunt Phyllis' and Uncle Bert's house for Thanksgiving dinner, carry it along. You might pretend you're watching football, but you and I will know what's going on. Just tell them you're catching up on the latest issue of The Economist. No one will want to see your Kindle.

So far 83 copies have flown out of the Kindle store. So I have a request. If you choose to avail yourself of this offer, read the book and WRITE A REVIEW. I'd honestly like to know how you liked the book, good or bad.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

FREE eBook


For three days, starting Wednesday, November 21 my book A VERY BRIGHT GIRL will be available for FREE in Amazon's Kindle library. So while your house is invaded by Uncle Joe, Aunt Agnes and the kids for Thanksgiving dinner, and they drink up all your booze watching football while waiting for the turkey to get done, sit back in the Lazy Boy, fire up the Kindle(or any tablet that and read about Heidi, her boyfriend, Heidi's mom and dad, Vice Principal Twoomy, Kelly the school secretary, Sandy Smith the designated wielder of the paddle, in a hot novella of spanking, school paddling and sex. Remember---on a Kindle no one knows what you're reading.. Tell them you're mid way through Moby Dick if anyone asks.

Friday, November 16, 2012

More eBook News

I have just reissued my first eBook.  The Naughty Wives Collection, Vol 1, 2nd Edition is now available for Amazon Kindle.
The link is here

The 2nd Edition is now over 35,000 words and 100 pages, and has five stories plus an introductory letter.
This is a great value at $2.99.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

The Romance of Spanking



 This is my new ebook, available exclusively at Amazon for Kindle readers. Here is the link. It is a collection of romantic spanking stories. Here is a description:

 At nearly 32,000 words and 90 pages The Romance of Spanking presents six stories of steamy romantic encounters coupled with hot spanking in a variety of genres and time periods.

In The One Room Schoolhouse, set in West Virginia in 1900, Hannah Bainbridge, a freshly graduated schoolteacher, takes up residence in the remote Appalachian mountain town of Slatyfork where she meets Tom Larkin, the local sheriff’s deputy. After a rough start a romance blooms only to be nearly derailed by the headstrong Hannah.

In Sun Valley Serenade a double booked vacation cabin at the height of ski season brings together Matt Fortier and Bonnie Carrington, a young widow. Matt graciously offers to share the cabin with Bonnie, her sister, and Bonnie’s kids. But as Matt learns, this is a family that employs very traditional disciplinary methods, and no one, not even Bonnie, is immune.

A Princess of Vernonia is set in a fictional medieval kingdom. Princess Alisha, mistress of Southmoor manor has earned the ire of her father for interfering with an arranged marriage. He has sent his personal guard to make his displeasure known, and the man who is leading the troop is none other than Guy Hightower, a man who makes Alisha’s heart flutter.

Bring Back the Paddle is the story of Ellen French, a new resident of Pineaux Louisiana, a small town attempting to deal with a school discipline problem. As a new school board member, Ellen proposes that they “bring back the paddle,” and who better to help her study the matter, and prepare an actual demonstration for the school board, than the quite dishy Dr. Martin Shea?

The Beresford Heiresses introduces Erin Baynor, a young associate to John Stallworth, attorney to the very wealthy and eccentric J. Tipton Beresford. When John is tasked by his client to carry out his last wishes with respect to his bratty nieces, Erin puts her foot in her mouth, much to her boss’s displeasure.

One Hot Summer Night brings together a guy, a girl, and a steamy New Orleans summer night. On such a night anything can happen.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Contest Results

The contest is over and the prizes have been sent to the winners. Thanks to all who commented on LOL Day. Here is the trick---I lied. There were not 3 prizes. Basically if you requested a book (some did not) and I had an email addy for you, you got a book. If you want a mulligan on this, email me or comment here, but you have to be one of the 11 commenters yesterday. So, mindy, Ordalie et al, here's your chance. One thing I ask---let me know if you liked the book!

Friday, November 9, 2012

Love Our Lurkers

 Ok, this is your day. Peruse the archives, read story or two and drop me a comment. Here's what I'm going to do--I'm going to pick three commentators at random and send each one of them a copy of one of the ebooks listed to the right. In your comment note which one you'd like. That's it. Have fun.


Wednesday, October 31, 2012

New F/M spanking stories Ebook

Just released.

Here we have a collection of six spanking stories, all about strict ladies and their naughty boys. At nearly 60 pages and over 20,000 words this collection is a great deal at only $1.99. Included are the following:

In The Pool Boy meet Cory, a young man cleaning swimming pools for a summer job. But while cleaning the pool for Mrs. Ashley Trent he makes a discovery. Peering through a window, he spies on a cabal of suburban women and their methods of keeping their young boy toys in line. Discovered by the beautiful Mrs. Trent, he finds that he too must join the party if he is to keep his job.

In Masters Thesis, meet Perry. He is writing his masters thesis in sociology, the subject of which is corporal punishment in schools. Who better to instruct him on the rules and procedures for the application of corporal punishment than his former middle school teacher, Nora Kincaid? Perry is grateful for her help but soon learns that as an instructor, Nora is definitely the hands-on type.

The Li’l Red Schoolhouse is the brainchild project of Julia Marsden. Imagine a place where clients are sent receive correction to wipe the slate clean of minor criminal infractions, settle civil matters and resolve marital discord. In this environment meet Peter Radix, an up and coming executive. The only problem? He must settle a sexual harassment lawsuit and the plaintiff’s demand is that he enroll in the Red Schoolhouse. His appointment is soon, and Julia has very old fashioned instructional methods. [Note: this is an excerpted chapter from “The Spanking Games”.]

Next up is The Health Club from the usenet classic of the same name. Meet John. He has joined this health club to lose weight. The workouts are hard, but the penalties for missing workout sessions are even harder, not to mention painful and a bit humiliating. So when John skips one workout too many it’s off to the basement for a “counseling session” with Sandra, a luscious red haired female instructor.

In Friend of the Family, when his parents go abroad, a young man is sent to board with a neighborhood friend, a woman he knew as a boy. All is well until one night when, after borrowing her car, he returns home in a drunken state and plows through her prized bushes. What to do with the young man? She does not want the police involved. What she proposes is both shocking and embarrassing. But a reckoning is called for and what must be done must be done.

Finally Birthday Auction Action brings us David, whose sister has recruited him to offer up for her charity auction nothing less than his twenty-first birthday spanking. The bidding is hot and it looks like an even hotter time for David thanks to some fuzzy math on the part of one Victoria Smythe-Hobbs, the voluptuous winning bidder.