The highwaywoman 2 (M/F story)

I had been riding through the countryside for almost a week when I happened upon a small, cozy-looking inn, and I decided to get a small private room. I am almost certain that the innkeeper overcharged me, but I could afford it, and I was grateful for the opportunity to spend the night under a roof.

After bringing my packs up to the room, and discarding my sword and armour, I went to the common room for some food and a few cups of ale. At one of the tables, a tall, red-haired woman was sipping a glass of wine. When she spotted me, her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp. She then immediately turned her eyes away, pretending she hadn't looked at me, and her face was pale.

From her reaction, she knew who I was, but it was clear she did not wish to speak to me. I decided to eat my dinner and pretend to ignore her in return, while I occasionally glanced subtly at her to figure out how she knew me and whether I had offended her in some way. Her dress looked far too expensive for a peasant, but not expensive enough for a noblewoman, nor would I expect one of the nobles to slum in this inn with us commoners. Was she a merchant, maybe, or a merchant's wife? I searched my memory, but I could not remember seeing her before. Maybe I would recognize her if I heard her voice, but I could not think of a way to achieve that without approaching her, and I did not want to be rude.

Having eaten, I ordered another ale and rested a bit before the fire before heading to my room. The woman was still at her table, and while she did not lift her head as I left the room, I could almost feel her eyes on me.

I had been reading for a bit by candlelight and was pondering whether I should go to bed early or take a small walk, when the door suddenly opened. A tall, red-headed woman wearing a long-coat and breeches, with a cloth covering the lower half of her face, entered the room. My eyes widened as I recognized the highwaywoman who had tried to rob me a month before.

"It's you. It's really you," she whispered, staring at me as if expecting me to disappear in a puff of smoke. "I've found you at last." She took a step forward, closing the door behind her.

I swore under my breath; my packs were at the other end of the room, so once again, the woman was standing between me and my sword. At least I was wearing clothes this time, but I still didn't have my armour. Rising to my feet, I slipped my hand subtly into my pocket and found a pen knife. Not much against an armed opponent, but if I charged and caught her by surprise…

" You have no idea how hard I've tried to find you," she said, still in that quiet whisper, as she walked towards me. "I cannot stop thinking about what you did to me."

I tensed my muscles, ready to leap at her, when I suddenly realized that her scabbard was empty, and so were her hands. I frowned. What sort of highwaywoman leaves her sword behind while seeking her vengeance on a man she hates? We already knew she couldn't take me in unarmed combat.

I stood unmoving, muscles still tense, as she slowly approached me. "No one has ever taken charge of me like that. The way you disarmed me, then dragged me over your lap…" She blushed. "Lying over your naked thighs, feeling your… manhood… poking me in the stomach…"

I said nothing, but my hand was still closed around the pen knife, just in case this was some bizarre bluff to get me to lower my guard.

"I cannot decide whether I want you to take me over your knee or to your bed," she whispered. "Do as you prefer, Sir Knight." She briefly met my eyes, before glancing shyly at the floor. "Please?"

The highwaywoman (M/F story)

It was a warm spring day, and I was travelling through a forest on my way to visit a merchant I'd traded with some times before. I kept my sword at my side in case I ran into animals or bandits, but I'd heard no stories of wolf attacks or holdups in these parts for many years, so I was quite relaxed, not scanning every shadow.

About midday, I reached a quiet forest lake. I was growing quite hot in my armour, so I decided to strip off and dive in. I swam around for a bit, enjoying the feeling of the cool water against my skin and the warmth of the sun on my back, when I suddenly heard trilling laughter. "What's this? A knight caught off guard?"

I spun around and saw a tall woman in a long-coat and breeches, with a hat on her head and a cloth covering the lower half of her face. She was standing near the shore, close to the spot where I'd left my packs and clothes. In her hand was a longsword, and she held it like someone who knew how to use it. From her dress and manner, I suspected she was a highwaywoman.

"What do you want?" I said, swimming closer to her until I could stand on the lake bottom. I could have explained that I was no knight, merely an officer of the guards, but this seemed a poor moment for idle chatter.

"Those bags look heavy. I suspect that there are more than a few coins there, and I have decided to lighten your load – out of the goodness of my heart, of course. If you try to stop me, I will cut you down." There was a sparkle in her eye that suggested she was grinning, but the cloth made it hard to be sure. "And you presently appear to be ill-clad for combat."

I cursed; she was right to conclude that I had no desire to enter combat against an armed opponent while I was naked, but I also couldn't let her rob me. Since combat appeared to be inadvisable, I decided to try diplomacy. "Can't we talk about this?" I said, walking towards her with my arms raised. "I'm sure there is some way to –"

The highwaywoman had begun to search my packs, but she turned her head when I spoke. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "S-stop," she said, her voice strangely nervous. "D-don't come any closer!" She held her sword threateningly in my direction, but to my surprise, I could see her hand tremble.

Wondering what in the world was going on, I studied what little I could see of her face, and I had the impression that there was a blush in her cheeks – though it was hard to tell, particularly at this distance. I was standing roughly waist-high in the water, and I suddenly realized that it wasn't my face she was looking at. Her eyes were rather lower than that.

This seemed surreal. From her initial bravado, I had judged her to be an experienced highwaywoman, but it seemed the sight of a naked man made her squirm. Maybe she was less experienced in other areas than robbery.

My hands still raised, I walked rapidly towards her. As soon as my loins emerged from the water, the woman's eyes widened, and she turned her gaze away bashfully, clearly embarrassed.

By the time she finally remembered that it was unwise to take your eyes away from the person you are robbing while they are moving towards you, I had grabbed the wrist of her sword arm. She tried to struggle free, but I proved to be stronger and managed to disarm her. I threw the sword away, and she shrank before me. She was clearly a threat if she was armed and I was not, and it is possible she could have defeated me if we both had a sword, but with neither of us armed, there was no contest, and it was clear she knew it. I was naked, but while she was clothed, she was not wearing armour either.

She gave me a defiant glare. "I have no intention of ending up at the end of a rope, Sir Knight. You must kill me now, for you will never bring me in alive." She did her best to sound brave, but her eyes revealed how scared she was, and her voice was trembling even more than before.

"I do not kill unarmed women," I told her, "And I have no intention of dragging you through the forest until we find a town. Instead, I have another punishment in mind." Her eyes widened, and she probably wondered what I meant. Instead of telling her, I decided it was time to show her.

Still holding on to her wrist, I suddenly sat down on a fallen log and dragged her over my lap. She fell forward, landing on my naked thighs with a gasp. Before she could react, I had pulled her breeches and underwear down to her knees, landing the first of many smacks to her bare bottom.

The champion and the cleric 2: Diplomacy (M/F story)

Nathaniel tried his hardest to keep his face neutral and resist the urge to sigh. Being the prophesized Chosen One and champion of the Valley of Mirth had many advantages over his former life as a poor farmer, but there were downsides as well. Today, he was meeting with Bartholomew Blackstone, leader of the Merchant's Guild. They were hoping to forge an alliance against the Baron, but the man had a mercenary nature and an unpleasant disposition. Laenarisa was there to help, but unfortunately, she wasn't being particularly helpful today.

"I don't believe you realize that people are dying," she snapped at the smirking merchant.

Blackstone shrugged. "That is unfortunate, but it's their own fault for not securing supplies before launching their uprising. You cannot expect the members of my organization to make a hasty decision just because some peasants were impatient."

"Mister Blackheart, you cannot –"

His smile disappeared, and he scowled. "It's BlackSTONE, little cleric. Mister BlackSTONE. It's not the first time you've made that mistake, and I'm starting to suspect it is intentional. I suggest you watch your words more carefully, or this interview could have some unpleasant consequences."

Deciding that he needed to act before Laenarisa could dig the hole deeper, Nathaniel took a step forward. "We are very sorry for the mistake, Mister Blackstone. Believe me when I say that it was entirely unintentional, and we meant no disrespect, I assure you." He made a small bow, then placed his arm around Laenarisa's shoulders. "Now, I need to have a little discussion with my companion, so if you will excuse us for a few minutes? Thank you." He turned around, steering Laenarisa towards the stairs.

"Let go of me!" she hissed.

"We are going to find a quiet, isolated spot for a little talk," he told her, still holding her firmly and moving rapidly.

She tried to wriggle free, but it turned out that a farmer used to handling spades and axes was a little stronger than a cleric that rarely lifted anything heavier than a book or a quill. "I don't think this is –"

"I didn't ask you what you thought, I told you what was going to happen," he said quietly, his tone making it clear that his decision was final.

Soon, they were in a remote storeroom. He made sure the door was locked and that no one could interrupt them before he turned to her. "Are you proud of your behaviour so far?" he asked her sternly.

She folded her arms in front of her chest, huffing. "That man is a greedy, heartless exploiter!"

"Of course he is – he's the leader of the Merchant's Guild. It's not a position often filled by philanthropists. However, we could really use his help, so you are going to lose the attitude and start being nice to him."

"I don't have an attitude!" she snapped, glaring.

Nathaniel sighed. "Is that so? I shouldn't be surprised. Do you need a spanking right now, or can it wait until we get back to our room?"

She gaped. "A spanking? Here!? Now?" She glanced around at the stuffy storeroom. "You wouldn't dare!"

The champion and the cleric (M/F story)

Nathaniel still found it hard to grasp just how much his life had changed. A few months ago, he'd been a young farmer trying to eke out a living on the outskirts of civilization. Now, he was being hailed as a champion, and many believed he was the Chosen One that would free the Valley of Mirth from the clutches of the evil Baron.

For the last month or so, he had been travelling in the company of Laenarisa, a Cleric who had offered to be his guide and advisor. The young woman had the services of the Temple at her disposal and was a well-read scholar, but she was quiet and rarely spoke. They'd just had an unpleasant encounter with some bandits, and while Nathaniel had managed to overcome them, she'd suggested that they should lay low in a small village for a few weeks and rest.

When they found a suitable village, Laenarisa decided to buy supplies and see if she could find some better maps of the area, and asked Nathaniel to hire rooms at the inn for them. He was now sitting in the inn's common room, sipping a mug of ale while he waited for her to return.

"Excuse me? You're new here, aren't you? I'd remember seeing you before," a sweet voice said. He glanced up to see a slim, attractive girl with blonde hair, wearing a simple cotton dress. She smiled. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

He smiled back at her. "I would be delighted if you did. Can I get you a drink? I'm Nathaniel."

"Thank you. I'm Thea."

She sat down next to him, and they started chatting. Nathaniel gave her his most roguish grin as she giggled at one of his lamer jokes; the day was turning out to be quite delightful, and it was a long time since he'd enjoyed himself so much.

"I've procured the maps, Nathaniel. Are you busy?" a voice said tersely. He looked up to see Laenarisa standing nearby, her eyes cold as she looked at him.

"Hello, Lenna" he said, smiling up at her. "Was there anything else worth seeing in the village? Thea, this is Laenarisa, a Cleric who travels with me. Laenarisa, this is –"

"Yes, well, I'm sure the young lady has some livestock she should be looking after, so we shouldn't detain her any longer," Laenarisa commented frostily. "Good day, Thea."

Casting a glance at Nathaniel, Thea rose and hurriedly left the table. Nathaniel studied Laenarisa as she sat down. "What's wrong with you today, Lenna? You didn't have to be rude."

"You are a very important person, Nathaniel. You cannot waste time on frivolities, or chatting to every peasant who walks past," she replied in a voice suddenly devoid of emotion. She waved a hand at the barmaid to order a drink.

"I thought we were here to relax and enjoy ourselves?" he said sceptically. "Doesn't sound like we're going to be busy, and I can think of few ways of spending my time that are more enjoyable than flirting with a cute girl."

She scowled at him. "Cute? Her? You really think so? No, Champion. A man like you deserves…" She glanced away, staring at the wall. "Someone better." She tried to hide it, but it was clear she was hurt.

As Nathaniel looked at her, a lot of things suddenly began to make sense to him. He could have kicked himself. "I'm so sorry, Lenna. I never realized how you felt. Believe me, I would not have flirted with her if I had known. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I'm sorry." He knew that she was intelligent, kind, and attractive, but her stiffness and reserved nature had previously prevented him from viewing her as a romantic potential.

Laenarisa blushed, glaring at him. "Don't be absurd, Nathaniel! I'm a pure, virtuous Cleric," she scoffed. "I do not have those kinds of emotions. I'm only travelling with you for the benefit of all mankind."

He grinned; there was something about the look on her face that suggested that, despite her words, he'd struck closer to the mark than she was comfortable with. He inched closer to her. She didn't shy away from him, but her face grew even redder, and the hand that held her cup was trembling slightly. "You're cute when you blush. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I am neither blushing nor cute," she insisted. She glared at him, her face now almost scarlet.

He tutted. "That's a lie. A Cleric shouldn't lie, should she? How naughty. Maybe I should spank you." 

The alchemist and the apprentice (F/F story)

"Great news, Tabitha!" Heidelore exclaimed when her assistant finally arrived at the workshop. As usual, the petite alchemist was wearing a leather apron, a robe that might have been clean once, and a manic grin, and her hair looked like she was waiting for a bird to nest in it. "I have a commission. Have you heard of Crescentia Falkenrath?"

 

The willowy apprentice thought for a second. "The senator's wife?"

 

"That's right," Heidelore confirmed. "It seems Senator Falkenrath doesn't like her wife's spending sprees, and is using a belt on the woman's bare bottom to make her displeasure known. Crescentia, not willing to change her habits, has hired me to make a salve or lotion that will make it possible for her to sit comfortably."

 

"And how much is she paying you for this?"

 

"Seventy denarii," the alchemist replied.

 

Tabitha whistled. "Wow. I wonder how the Senator will react when she learns about that expense. Sounds like it could be painful for Crescentia."

 

"Hm?" Heidelore frowned. "I don't see… Anyway, I've made a few test batches that I think will work, but we obviously need to test them first, so it's good that you've arrived."

 

Tabitha felt a chill running down her spine, and her backside tingled unpleasantly. She had a feeling that she wouldn't like where this was going.

 

Heidelore picked up a leather belt lying on her workbench. "I bought this on my way to the workshop. You raise your robe and bend over the table, I strap your bottom, and we test them out on you."

 

Tabitha tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly bone dry. She had guessed correctly – she didn't like the direction this conversation had taken at all. One hand reached back to cusp her bottom, shivering as she thought about how that belt would feel against her sensitive skin.

 

In the years she'd been apprenticed to the famous alchemist, Tabitha had learned a lot, and there were certainly benefits, but she was also expected to act as guinea pig for Heidelore's various experiments. She'd been stung by insects, had itching leaves rubbed on her skin, and drunk various foul mixtures with unpleasant effects. And it would have been one thing if the cures always worked – but if they did, there wouldn't be any reason to test them, would there? Many of them did nothing, and some even made the problem worse.

 

And now, she was expected to bare her bottom for a strapping from her boss. She HAD to find a way out of this. And from the way her mistress looked at her, she had to find it fast.

 

"You know," the apprentice said slowly, trying to buy herself time to think, "I believe I see a flaw in this…"

The half-orc and the halfling (M/F story)

Grim glanced around the common room at the inn, subtly scanning for threats. Reassured that this was a respectable establishment and that there were no obvious dangers here, the half-orc gave a satisfied nod, and stepped aside to let his employer enter.

The tiny woman smiled up at him as she entered, shaking her head at his precautions. Even the other halflings would describe Lily Springkettle as short and cute, but her charismatic personality and head for money had made her a very successful merchant. Grim just wished she had as much common sense as she had business sense.

Lily talked to the innkeeper and got a good deal on a suite of rooms at the back of the inn – two bedrooms and a small living room, quite stylish. Lily had the money to live comfortably even on her travels, and Grim was quite pleased that she was willing to spend it. There were certain upsides to being her bodyguard.

Once they'd settled in, Grim looked at his employer. "There are some supplies we need before we move on, and I'd like us to buy them today – that way, we don't have to wait for the shops to open tomorrow before we leave."

Lily leaned back in the rather comfortable chair. The pout on her face made her look even more like a child than she usually did, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate him pointing it out. "Do I have to come? You know what we need. Can't you just buy it? I'll give you the money, of course."

He thought about it. A nice room in a decent inn would not be the worst place to leave a naïve merchant for an hour or two. As long as she stayed here, she would be entirely safe.

As long as she stayed here.

Grim stepped over to her, folding his arms in front of his chest and staring down at her. "Promise me that you'll stay in our rooms and not go wandering the streets on your own."

She rolled her eyes. "That was ONE time."

"You lost your purse," he reminded her. "And that wasn't the worst thing that could have happened." He bent down, placing a gentle hand under her jaw to force her to look him in the eyes. "Promise."

She sighed, rolling her eyes again. "Fine. I'll stay here and do some reading. That's what I was planning to do, anyway." She glared at him. "Who do you think is in charge here, anyway?"

"Good to hear," he said, ignoring her last question. "See you later."

As he walked out into the streets, he knew he shouldn't talk to his employer that way, but there was something about her appearance and her innocent obliviousness to danger that awoke his protective instinct that made him want to shield her from the dangers of the world. She knew things about trade that would never grasp, about supply and demand and artificial scarcity and things like that, but she would gladly follow someone into a dark alley for a free piece of candy. There was something paternal here; he wanted to keep the fragile little thing safe at all costs. He frowned – at least, he THOUGHT it was paternal.

Enemies of old, part II: Crossing the border (M/F story)

Miranda was once again approaching the border to the land of the barbarians. It was the first time in days she could sit comfortably on her horse, and to her own great astonishment, she was hoping to change that. She had thought much in the last few days about the tall, muscular barbarian that had spanked her the last time she'd wandered over the border, and how it felt to be across his strong thighs and feel his firm hand land on her bottom. And now, she wanted to meet him again. With all the dangers that entailed.

She wasn't travelling alone, of course. She'd asked two of the guards, both friends of her, to accompany her to the border; due to bandits, that road could be dangerous for a lone woman. But while they would accompany her to the border, she was crossing the border alone. There were some things she couldn't ask of her friends. Of course, if everything went as she hoped – and feared – it would, she wouldn't want them there anyway.

Enemies of old, part I: A hunting incident (M/F story)

As she looked at the wastes around her, trying to find some familiar feature to navigate by, Miranda finally admitted what she had feared to be true; she was definitely lost. She wanted to call out, hoping that her companions would hear her and come to her aid, but she didn't want to take that chance. She knew they were close to the border, and she wanted to avoid drawing the attention of the savages to the east. She'd heard all the stories, and was quite certain she didn't want to star in one.

Some of her father's soldiers had decided to go for a small hunting trip, spending a few days in the wild. She'd convinced them to let her come along – after all, she was a grown woman, capable of taking care of herself, and thought it would be nice to get away from the city for a day or two. And it had been quite nice, until she'd decided to go for a walk, and had wandered further away from the camp than she'd expected.

She sat down on the ground, burying her face in her hands. She was beginning to feel quite scared. Even more so when she heard someone breathing, and she realized that she was being watched.

She whipped her head around. A few metres away, a young man was sitting on a rock, leaning on a spear. He was wearing a tunic that showed signs of being worn, but was quite clean, and seemed to be expensive – or at least high-quality. This was one of the barbarians of the east, and seemingly a high-ranking one. He was looking at her with curiosity, and while he didn't seem aggressive, his eyes weren't friendly either. When she looked at him, he nodded in a neutral greeting, but his eyes were still studying her.

History (M/F story)

"I'm not so sure about this." Vanessa stared at the machine, humming quietly in the corner. A large contraption, with a chair placed between two large monolithic objects, and a computer screen connected to it all.

"Why are you so worried? I've tested it myself, more than once, and nothing has happened," Damon told her.

"So tell me again, what exactly happens?" she said, biting her fingernail.

"Well, the machine finds some ancestor of yours, anywhere up the line, and puts you in their body on a random day. You can hear what they heard, feel what they felt, and such. For historical research, it's invaluable."

"And if that person DIES while I'm in their body?" She said, glaring at him.

"Then you're transported back to your own body," he said calmly. "Basic fail-safe. How stupid do you think I am?"

"And if I step on a butterfly?"

"You're not controlling the girl, I've told you that. You see what she sees. If you step on a butterfly, then she did too, and nothing changes."

"So you've tested it yourself?" she asked him.

"Plenty of times."

"So why do I have to?"

"Well, first of all, you don't HAVE to. But it would be fun. Secondly, I know that it works FOR ME. I don't know if it works for anyone else. That's what I need to test."

"Can you control the time period?"

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

She thought about it. "The eighteenth century." She sat down in the chair,

He smiled. "Good choice." He focused on the screen, pressing a few buttons. "Here's one. Amelia Rumford, 1753. So she would be... seventeen." He looked at his girlfriend. "There's no way of knowing more about her. It's limited that way. So do you want to be Amelia Rumford, seventeen, or should I find some other ancestor of yours?"

"Sure, why not. Go for it."

"Let's see if this works," he said, pressing the button.

The humming of the machine got louder and louder, and Vanessa closed her eyes. The noise was giving her a headache. Suddenly, the noise was gone. She opened her eyes.

She was in a bedroom, but not a bedroom she had seen before. A large bed, a washing basin, a couple of chairs and a giant mirror.

Success, she told herself.

But something made her nervous. Her skin was tingling in anticipation of something, and a pit in her stomach told her something bad was coming. She tried to look around to see if anything was wrong, but found she couldn't. She remembered what Damon had told her. 'She didn't look around her room, so neither will I'.

She suddenly realized that the tingling and anticipation she felt wasn't hers. A remnant, a ghost of the fear that a seventeen-year-old girl felt over two hundred years ago.

The door opened, and a large man with a scowl on his face stepped in.

"Have you thought about your actions, young lady?"

"Yes, daddy," Vanessa felt herself say. This was Amelia's father? He didn't look particularly happy.

"Are you ready for your punishment now?"

"Yes, daddy."

The word 'punishment', spoken by a large man with a scowl on his face, wasn't giving Vanessa any good connotations. She decided to leave, immediately, but found she couldn't. She had no idea how to get back to her own time.

Suddenly, she felt herself bending over the bed, sticking her bottom out. The man stepped forward, raising her dress and lowering her panties. She wanted to yell at him for this breach of her privacy, but of course, she couldn't. She could feel his eyes over the bare skin of her body, and she didn't like it one bit. The fact that it wasn't her body, didn't help matters much.

Suddenly, something whipped through the air and bit into her bottom. He was spanking her! She wanted to scream, to run away, but she couldn't. For the moment, she was trapped.

She and Damon were going to have words about that.

Again, the object whistled through the air, and again, it left a deep imprint on her bottom. A couple more strokes followed, and Amelia cried out, stomping her feet a little. Vanessa had no idea how she stayed so still. If it had been her in control, she'd be running around, rubbing her butt like crazy.

She had no idea how many strokes she received, but after what seemed like an eternity, the large man helped her to her feet, gave her a hug and told her she was forgiven. Vanessa didn't think SHE was the one in need of forgiveness, but she said nothing, mainly because she couldn't.

After the man left, Amelia stepped over to the mirror, taking a look at her bottom in the mirror. Vanessa wanted to gasp. It was crimson, and there were bruises all over.

But she received another of Amelia's feeling, and it wasn't shame, or shock, or pain, or anything else Vanessa had expected. It was a sort of joy, a feeling of contentment. Vanessa wanted to furrow her brows. Something strange was going on.

Suddenly, a deep noise appeared. She tried to start in fear, but suddenly recognized a familiar humming. She was back in the machine, and the stinging, burning pain in her rear end was gone. She jumped to her feet, raising her skirt and lowering her panties. Not a mark on her.

She turned to Damon, who was staring at her, more than a little surprised. "Uhm, why are you looking at your bottom?"

She glared at him. "Do you have any idea what happened to me there!?"

"No clue," he told her. "That's one of the problems with the machine."

"I was met by a very angry man with some sort of strap, and the intent of using it on my defenceless bottom! That's what happened!"

"Oh!" He raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's not good."

An hour later, Vanessa was sitting on the couch, a tub of ice cream in her hand. Damon was sitting next to her, still apologizing for the mistake. He'd promised to make it up to her, any way she wanted.

Vanessa smiled to herself. Now that the initial shock was over, the punishment wasn't as traumatizing as she'd expected. Gone and forgotten.

Although, that feeling that she received from Amelia, the contentment she had felt looking upon her red rear...

Maybe she'd ask Damon if he was interested in spanking her. Provided, of course, that he was a LOT gentler than Amelia's father had been.

Sprites (M/FF story)

I was walking through the forest when I came across a beautiful-looking pond in the shade of some great oaks. I had been away from the Elven Court for less than a week, but appreciated the chance to wash away some of the grime collected during my travels – unlike some of the less urban druids, I had never liked to live in the forest for too long and hated looking tired. I stripped down and jumped in, but soon heard movement from the nearby bushes. At first, I felt the urge to reach for my weapons, for though we had few enemies at this time, it never paid to be too careless.

But when I heard the giggle of a sprite, I relaxed. Sprites were mischievous little pranksters who delighted in their little games, but there was little reason to pull a weapon on them, and they had no evil in their hearts.

I stepped out of the pond and put on my trousers. I wasn't going to let the little things get away with their peeking, and it's hard to lecture someone if you're not wearing anything – it's harder to take you seriously. I called to the bushes, "Hey, you! Come out of there!"

Two sprites came out of the foliage, still giggling. Sprites are young-looking beings about a foot long, with large butterfly wings and usually dressed in something that looks like a small dress woven by green leaves.

"What were you doing?" I asked.

"Watching," one of them said.

"Yeah, we were wondering if you were two elves in one!" said the other.

"Uh huh! You're so tall, we thought you had another person in there under your pretty clothes." And they giggled again, flying around each other.

"Well, I don't, so are you going to go away and let me bathe in peace?"

One of them poked her little tongue out at me, but the other nodded. "We'll let you be," she said, and they flew away.

Sprites are cute, but their giggle can cause quite the headache in a weary traveller who just wants a quiet bath and a bit of rest. I slipped out of my clothes and back into the pond, but I kept one eye open – I had gotten my victory far too easily, and I didn't trust their promises.

Sure enough, less than a minute after I got into the pond, I spotted them back in the bushes, two tiny faces in the leaves.

"Weren't you going to leave?" I asked.

"And now we're back," one of them said, not taking her eyes of me.

"If you don't listen to me, I'm going to make you listen," I warned her.

"Oh?" She said, flying closer with her hands on her hips. "How are you going to accomplish that?"

"Like this," I said, quickly reaching forward and grabbing her around the waist. She struggled as I stepped over to the side of the pond and sat down, putting her little form over my knee. I raised her dress and with one hand on her back to hold her in place, I used the other to give her bare backside a firm slap.

The little sprite kicked her legs and cried out as I started to spank her, my firm hand landing on her buttocks with a loud crack. She was screaming bloody murder, but I kept up, delivering firm smacks to her unprotected rear end. Sprites may look small and fragile, but they are a lot tougher than they look, so I wasn't too afraid of hurting her to give her what she deserved.

The other sprite, who was still giggling her head off, was staring at this new development with great interest, and even came closer to get a good look at what was happening to her friend. She seemed to greatly enjoy the sight, giggling even harder as the spanked sprite kicked her legs and yelled for me to stop. There is little loyalty in sprites when someone else is in trouble.

When I was satisfied that the sprite's buns were sufficiently red and sore, I let her up, and she flew around, intensely rubbing her cheeks. I had always found that a young lady stomping from foot to foot, trying in vain to rub the sting from her rear was an incredibly cute sight, but it was even more adorable when the naughty young lady in question had wings and was flying around in circles. The other sprite also found the sight amusing. She laughed until I grabbed her around the waist and she found herself over my lap in the exact position that her friend had just been.

I've always been amazed at the lack of foresight that sprites display. If I had caught two small elven children misbehaving, and I pulled one over my lap for a spanking, the other one would have understood that she was next and ran away while her friend was getting it. But this sprite had watched her friend's punishment with glee, and never suspected what I was going do to her once I was done. She whined as I raised her dress and patted her backside, but the whining quickly turned into squealing as I began to spank her bottom.

She kicked her legs, screamed and pleaded, but I showed her no more mercy than her friend. I watched as her cheeks slowly turned pink, then red, under my punishing hand. By then, her friend had regained some of her composure, and she was watching the spanking with some amusement, but a lot more sympathy than her friend had shown – after all, she knew exactly what she was going through.

When the little sprite was as red-bottomed and teary-faced as her friend, I let her up, and when she had finished rubbing her rear, the pair of them flew away. I continued my bath, confident that I would probably be left alone by the winged brats for some time.

But when I had finished and was about to put my clothes back on, I turned to find four other sprites at the edge of the pool, watching me with large eyes. "We talked to Bluebell and Blossom, and they showed us what happened to them," one of the sprites explained, biting her lip. "And we were... curious."

I smiled. I had a feeling I was going to wear out my hand before this day was over.

The Thieves' Guild (M/F story)

Isabel Blackthorne looked up from her desk as her assistant Samantha knocked on the door. "Michael is here to see you, ma'am. He says that you sent for him?"

Isabel nodded. "I did. Just send him in."

Michael bowed courteously as he entered the room, and she indicated the chair opposite her desk. He was a handsome man with dark hair and green eyes, and was wearing an utterly unremarkable grey tunic. But then again, he never wore anything that was worthy of remark. As leader of the Guild of the Night, Isabel had many competent people at her command, but Michael was special. He could gather information better than anyone, and had a gift for avoiding attention when it was needed – she'd seen him slip past guards more than once by acting like he had every right to be there, without a word ever passing his lips. When she needed a job done quickly, efficiently, and secretly, she knew exactly who to summon.

He sat with a face that looked completely devoid of emotion as he waited for her to tell him why she had summoned him.

"So, how are things working out with your new student?" Isabel asked him.

"Sylvia is young, and very inexperienced," he told her. "She makes a lot of mistakes, and often talks before she thinks, but she is eager to learn, and we are making progress. I think she'll be a fine agent one day."

"I've been told that you often have to punish her," Isabel said. "And that you use... old-fashioned methods."

"You mean I spank her," Michael said. "The old ways are sometimes the best, and it has had a wonderful effect on her behaviour. Her promises to do better always sound a bit more sincere while she's nursing a sore bottom."

"You are aware that she's an adult?" Isabel said, raising an eyebrow.

"She's told me that many times – every single time I pull her trousers down and put her across my knee, in fact. But as long as I am her teacher, I will decide how to punish her. Unless, of course, you disapprove?"

She shook her head. "If it works, it works. Anyway, that's not the only reason I wanted to talk to you. Some of our information almost ended up in the wrong hands."

"A spy?" he asked calmly.

"I don't think so. Just a bit of clumsiness, as far as I can tell. I had a meeting with some of the new girls down near the docks recently, and someone left some notes behind when they left. The town guards were in the area afterwards, and they managed to find them – they'd fallen on the floor, I think. I want you to head over to the Watchmen's barracks and pick up the notes. Then, I want you to try to find out who left them behind, and punish her."

"Punish?" Michael said for clarification.

She shrugged. "You seem so fond of your.... old-fashioned methods. You have my permission to employ them on the guilty girl. Give her a good spanking, on the bare bottom. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Crystal."

The next day, Isabel was busy in meetings all day, so it was late afternoon before she could summon Michael again. He entered her office with the papers under his arm, and his usual unreadable expression.

"Did you have any trouble with the guards?" she asked.

"None whatsoever," he replied. "No one looked at me twice."

"So, have you had any luck figuring out who left the notes behind?" she asked.

"The lady in question was kind enough to write her name on them." He placed the paper on her desk, and Isabel turned it over. She blushed as she saw her own name, in her own handwriting, and when she looked at Michael, his normally blank face was displaying a wide grin. "The guild leader herself. Who would have thought?"

"Oh lord," Isabel said as she placed her palm in front of her mouth.

"Now," he said, "I have orders from the guild leader herself to place you across my knee and give you a – what were her exact words?  A good spanking, on the bare bottom? That was it." There was a twinkle in his eye, and it was clear that he found the situation immensely entertaining. "But given the circumstances, I believe I'm going to let you off, just this once."

For a long time, Isabel sat there in silence, until she finally met his gaze. "That's very kind of you, Michael, but no."

"No?" Michael echoed, raising an eyebrow. The grin was replaced with his usual blank slate.

"This oversight, this SLOPPINESS," she said, indicating the papers on the desk, "is a major breach of the rules of the Guild, of the care and attention we pay to every part of our operations. Anyone committing such an infraction deserves to be punished." She sighed. "Anyone. No exceptions."

"And you think a spanking is the best way to punish a forgetful guild leader?" he asked.

She winced. "I'll admit, I'd have probably chosen some other punishment if I'd known my own bottom could be in danger, but I don't see why not. I deserve it." She looked deep into his eyes. "And know this – if I have to be punished, I'm glad you are the one carrying it out."

"I'm flattered."

"So," she said as she rose to her feet, straightening out her black tunic. "How do we proceed?"

Summoning (F/m story)

Aquilla grinned to himself as he finished the circle. He put the bag of sulphur down on the small table and examined his handiwork.

As far as he could tell, it was a perfect summoning circle. Good. When it came to summoning, "almost perfect" was the same as "absolutely useless". Being alone in a room with a powerful creature you couldn't control was not advisable, especially one you had torn from its home to subject to your will.

He knew there was risk involved, of course. There always was. Power never came free, but that didn't mean the risk wasn't worth it. Mostly because he'd show Lucinda who was the better sorcerer. Lucinda was one of the other mages at the academy, a year older, and she was not one of Aquilla's closer friends.

He looked over the circle again, trying to spot a weakness. There was no point in putting it off any longer. Either he had to wash away the circle again, or light it and try the summoning. He lit it.

At first, nothing happened, and Aquilla was wondering if he'd messed it up in some way. Then, suddenly, a dark cloud appeared, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose. For some time, he stood there, bending over and coughing, unaware of what was happening around him. When he regained his senses, he noticed that he wasn't alone in the room anymore.

A tall, beautiful woman was standing in the middle of the circle, examining her surroundings with an annoyed look on her face. She looked more human than he had anticipated; was there something wrong with the spell? Had he pulled some unsuspecting noble from her home?

She noticed him, and as he saw her eyes, he realized that she was no human after all. There was something in them, otherworldly and different. She was the real deal. A powerful demon, standing here in his room, ready to do his bidding.

He hoped.

"So, you're the summoner, then," she said. As far as he could tell, her voice was human. He still kept his guard up; sometimes, they weaved spells of enchantment into every sentence. She looked around in his room. "I was expecting a bit more, to be honest."

"Heed my words, oh demon. I am Aquilla, mighty -"

"Are we at the Academy? Fairwater Academy? It's been a while since I've been here. A few years back, every little child with a wand would try to summon you and use your powers, but now, it's only the thicker ones."

Aquilla was unsure of what to do. He had to admit, he was expecting a bit more respect from her than this – or at least open hostility and anger. This joking attitude was a shock.

"I am not a child," he told her. "I am an adult, one of the older students."

"But you don't act like it, do you?" She said, smiling. "An adult wouldn't draw up a summoning circle in his room, would he? He'd choose the summoning rooms, or the lower halls, rooms DESIGNED for the purpose."

"Too public," he told her. "I'd like to keep this quiet." He knew he shouldn't be telling her these things. Withholding information from demons was a basic rule of summoning. It made it harder for them to track you down after you forced them to do your bidding. But he couldn't help himself.

"And you don't think they're going to notice the giant circle burned into the floor? Are you counting on them being blind?" She sniffed into the air. "And completely lacking any sense of smell? A bold plan, certainly, but not wise. Anyway," she continued, "An adult wouldn't tell a summoned demon his name, Aquilla. 'Names are tags, and tags help them find you', isn't that what they tell you here? Those are the mistakes of children, Aquilla. You may look like you're on the verge of adulthood, but your head is still not quite there."

Aquilla realized that he wasn't quite as in charge of the situation as he had hoped to be.

"Besides, only a child would botch up a summoning circle as badly as this."

Aquilla scowled at her. He'd been proud of the circle. It was one of his better. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"There's no rune of willpower," she told him. A cold shiver ran down his back as he realized that the missing rune was the one that would control the demon. A large, powerful demonic entity was standing in his room, and he had no way of controlling her. He looked up in shock, and the demon grinned. "And finally, the penny drops." She stepped out of the circle and started walking towards him.

He backed away, grasping at the protective charms around his neck. "Back, foul creature, I beseech thee! You shall not have my life!"

"Aw, isn't that adorable?" she said, grabbing his arm. "Rest assured, I'm not after your life. I'm just going to teach you what happens when you pull demons from their rest." She sat down on his bed, pulling him over her knee.

Aquilla was paralysed with shock as she pulled his robe up. What was going on? As she pulled his underwear down, giving his now naked rear end a few firm smacks, he found all his questions answered. He was being spanked. By a demon.

"Hey!" he called out. "Ouch! You can't do this!"

"'Can't'? Brave words coming from a brat magician who can't even draw a proper circle," she told him, planting a series of hard smacks on his sit spots. "I can do far worse than this, I tell you. If I wanted to, I could pull you into my domain, torturing you for decades, leaving you a shell of your former self. A bit worse than a small spanking, no?" He shuddered at the prospect. "Luckily for you and your cute little tushy, I'm not going to do that. A childish punishment for a bratty child, isn't that more fitting?"

Aquilla wanted to protest, but howled in pain instead as the stinging slaps rained down on his poor, unprotected rear end. "Ow, please, I'll do anything, just let me up!"

"Still haven't quite figured out that you're not in charge?" the demon giggled. "If I wanted something from you – anything, really – I'd already have it. The only thing I want from you, is your bratty little butt, over my knee, getting some much-needed attention, and guess what?" She paused to rub his bottom. "I already have it." She started spanking again.

Aquilla was crying and kicking his legs, and his bottom was turning red, but still, the demon kept spanking. At last, long after he realized that resisting was useless, Aquilla found himself back on his feet.

"Uh-uh!" the demon said, smacking his hands away as he tried to rub. "Not yet." She led him into the corner, moving his hands to his head. "Stand here, and no rubbing." She drew a small circle in the air, causing a rain of green flashes that swiftly disappeared.

"What was that?" Aquilla asked nervously.

"A warning signal," the demon responded. "I have to go now, but I want you to stay in this corner for an hour. If you move, or try to rub that cute little rear, I'll know about it, and I'll come back and start your spanking from scratch. Also, it will let you a whistling sound when your time is up."

That last part was true, the rest wasn't, but she wasn't about to tell him that. She liked the thought of the young magician standing in the corner, even if she couldn't be here to see it. "Just a quick warning. If you try to summon me again, I'll be less merciful. Got that?" she said, giving each of his cheeks a few good smacks.

"Ow! Yes, I got it!" he whined.

"Good." And in a flash and a cloud of sulphur, she was gone.

Aquilla stood in the corner, coughing, hoping that no one, especially Lucinda, would come by before his corner time was up.

The Night at the Tavern (M/F story)

This is part of a series that I once thought about writing, about an adventuring party trying to defeat an evil Baron. I don't know if I will ever write more chapters, but I thought this was good enough to be a stand-alone story.

Marcus took the map out from the stack of papers in front of him, and he wondered where they should head next. He and Julia had been looking for a way to defeat the Baron for months, but they still didn't have a clear goal in mind – how exactly were they going to defeat a man that could combine dark sorcery with one of the deadliest sword arms in the country? Marcus had his sword at his side, and Julia could accomplish great things with her mage's staff in her hands, but even together, they were no match for him – not to mention having to get past the men under his command.

They were sitting in a tavern, enjoying a drink at a table as they made their plans. Marcus had learned long ago that if you wanted to make secret plans, you never sat in a dark corner – dark dealings in dark corners were noteworthy, and every man in the house would be watching them out of the corner of their eye. Instead, they'd picked a room near the window, where they sat as if they were filling out some form, never raising their voices or whispering. Marcus and Julia had long ago mastered the art of appearing boring, not worth anyone's attention – and they never received any, either.

Marcus was just wondering whether they should seek help with the Monks in the Valley, when he became aware of a loud racket on the other side of the room. He stared open-mouthed as he watched Gwen, the third member of their little group, dancing on a table with a tankard in her hand. Gwen was a young bard who had decided to travel with them, and they greatly benefited from her local knowledge – she could find secret paths through thick forests, and she knew the location of every alehouse in the country. But she didn't share their talent for subtlety, and as he watched her swing her hips to the lute music, he knew that any hope of avoiding attention was lost. In addition, she'd fallen into a lake the day before, and had to borrow one of Julia's robes, and it was clear that she didn't know how to move in it – the men watching her performance were getting glimpses of things normally kept under wraps.

“Take the papers,” he told Julia as he got up. “Go to our rooms and wait there.” Once Julia had left, Marcus went over to Gwen. By putting his foot out and gently nudging the table, he pushed Gwen out of balance, and she stumbled to the side, leaning onto him as he held her to keep her from falling to the floor. “You've had a bit too much to drink, Gwen,” he told her gently. “I think it's time you went to bed.”

“N-nonsense,” she slurred as she tried to step away from him. “I'm going to dance."

He couldn't allow this to drag out, so with one swift motion, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her out of the room, trying his best not to draw attention. Of course, since most of the men in the room were staring at them, disappointed that the show was over, and since Gwen had started singing loudly, he wasn't very successful.

“Why are you ruining my fun?” she said accusingly as he carried her into the room that Julia and Gwen were sharing. Julia was sitting on a stool, watching them with a grin on her face. Marcus couldn't quite see the funny side of the situation.

He set Gwen down on her feet and glared at her. “We were supposed to get some rest here and NOT DRAW ATTENTION to ourselves. Do you remember that? Or did it get lost in your tankard, like the rest of your brain?”

She pouted. “I was only dancing a little,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You were dancing on a table, in a wizard's robe that is starting to come loose. Let me put it this way: if you'd been wearing panties, you'd be flashing them right now. I don't think there was a man in the house who wasn't enjoying the view.”

With an embarrassed blush, she tightened the robe, before trying to push past him. “I'm going to get another drink.”

He stopped her. “You're going to do no such thing. You're going to spend the rest of the evening in this room. Do a bit of reading, get some sleep, do what you want, but you're not leaving this room until you've sobered up.” She tried to push past him again, but again, he held her back. “If you don't stop this nonsense and sit down, I'm going to pull you across my knee and spank your bottom.”

Julia gasped loudly, the smile on her face growing wider, while Gwen blushed and almost seemed to lose her nerve. If he'd delivered this threat to Julia, she would have listened – she'd been over his knee enough times to know she didn't want a repeat performance. But Gwen didn't have her experience, and after a pause, she glared at him, trying her best to appear intimidating. “I don't remember asking you to pretend to be my father. Get out of my way.”

As she tried to push him aside, he grabbed her arm, stepping over to the bed as he dragged her behind him. She tried to resist, but as he sat down, he easily pulled her forward and tipped her over his lap. With one hand at her back, holding her down, he pulled the robe up, revealing her pale, white cheeks.

“You can't do this!” she yelled. “Let me up at once.”

Instead of answering her, Marcus just lifted his hand and started spanking her bottom. His hand moved from cheek to cheek, delivering firm, hard smacks that soon had her squirming over his lap.

“Are you going to pay attention now?” he said after a while, not pausing the spanking as he interrogated her. Her backside was beginning to turn pink under his palm, and Julia was giggling – she obviously found spankings hilarious when she wasn't the one getting them.

“Ouch! I'll be good, I promise. I'll just have a quiet pint in the corner, no one will notice me! Honest!” she said, trying to squirm out of his grip. It was futile.

“You're going to stay right here, in this room, young lady,” he said, delivering a particularly firm set of spanks to her sit spots. “And if I hear any more lip from you, you're going to find yourself back over my knee, and I'll take a wooden spoon to your bare bottom. Is that clear?”

“Ow! Yes, sir!”

“Her manners are improving. Maybe you should do this more often?” Julia suggested with a smile.

“Maybe you should worry more about your own tail before you find yourself facing the carpet again,” he told her. She just smiled, her eyes shining as she watched Gwen kick her legs from the pain.

“Let's try this one more time: are you going to be a good girl and stay in this room for the rest of the evening?”

“Owiee! Yes, sir, I promise!”

He smiled. “And what is going to happen if you don't?”

“Ow! You'll spank me, again, sir!”

“Good,” he said, and after a final volley of hard slaps on her quivering posterior, he helped her up. She cried into his shoulder as he rubbed her back, and she soon fell asleep in his arms. He put her to bed, and walked over to Julia. “Are the papers in the backpack?”

She nodded. “I think you're right, we should head to the Monks. Even if they can't give us anything but information, that information could be valuable.”

“Then, that's settled.” He nodded to the bard who was moving in her sleep, resting on her stomach. “If she tries to leave, stop her, and fetch me.”

“Will do.”

“By the way, if I learn you've been teasing her for this, I'm going to give you a thrashing that will make what you just saw, seem like love taps. Got that?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” she said, with her best impression of an innocent woman.

“Of course not,” he told her. “I'm going to bed.”

The Tomb (F/F story)

Rose went through the contents of her backpack one last time, just to make sure that everything was there. She'd already looked through it several times before, but carelessness was not her thing. Besides, it gave her something to do, which calmed her nerves, while she waited for the sun to go down. She didn't want to be spotted entering the tomb. That would only lead to questions.

 

In fairness, she really shouldn't be this nervous. She already considered herself an experienced treasure hunter, and this was not her first tomb. She was quick, thorough, and never left a trace that she had been there. But there was something about her current target that made her uneasy. She shook her head, ignoring that little voice at the back of her head. At the moment, that voice was a distraction.

 

Sometimes, she liked to think about the great books that would be written about her in the future, when she was too old to go treasure hunting, and wanted to sell her story. Classics would be written about the young, petite hunter with the fiery red hair, who braved the darkest dungeons. She looked down on her tank-top, and the tight shorts that had once been a tight pair of jeans. In the stories, she would be wearing something a little more glamorous.

 

Her flashlight seemed only to enhance the darkness surrounding her, rather than dispel it. She studied the floor, to see if there were any footprints. If there were, she couldn't find any. That seemed promising. It was unusual to find a non-plundered tomb this close to civilization, and she didn't want to enter the treasury to find it empty. That would be anti-climactic.

 

The hallway was long, but there were few branching ways, so she soon found the burial chamber. That was where the owner of the tomb would be located, along with the best of the loot. She found the coffin, and tried to open the lid; often, the body would carry rings and bracelets that would fetch a pretty good price on the market. No luck. The lid was solid stone, and wouldn't budge. She would need hours to pry it open, and she had no idea if the work was worth it. She decided to leave the coffin until next time and headed further into the tomb.

 

Ten minutes later, she emerged from the inner tomb, struggling under the new weight of her backpack. She'd found a lot more than she could carry, but there was no reason she couldn't come back tomorrow, was there? She sent the coffin a nod, as if to thank the owner of the tomb for her generosity, when she spotted something that froze the blood in her veins.

 

The lid of the coffin was lying on the ground, and the coffin was empty.

 

For a few seconds, she could do nothing but stand there and stare. Slowly, her mental capacities returned to her. She hadn't been mistaken; the lid had been moved. This either meant that someone else had entered the tomb, removed the lid and the corpse in a very short amount of time... or that the owner of the tomb was up and walking again. Either way, she wasn't alone anymore.

 

The darkness of the tomb seemed a lot more intimidating now than it had been on the way in.

 

"Looking for something, child?"

 

Rose spun around, suddenly face to face with a tall, pale woman with a strange smile that made her feel very, very nervous. She was dressed in a long, white robe, with a simple tiara on her head. Her face looked to be about thirty or thereabouts, but the eyes seemed much, much older.

 

Rose noted the fangs, and realized that a real, actual vampire was eyeing her. And she didn't seem like the sparkling, fun kind of vampire, either.

 

"I asked if you were looking for something," the vampire said, taking a step towards her. Rose stepped back as quickly as she could, hoping to keep as much distance between herself and the creature as possible.

 

The vampire laughed. "You don't talk much, do you? What is your name, child?"

 

"I'm not a child," Rose said, more out of reflex than anything else. She was in her early twenties, but painfully aware that she often looked younger.

 

"Is that so?" the creature replied with a grin that made Rose's skin crawl. "There are only two kinds of people that enter my tomb, child. Curious children that want to see if the stories are true, or thieves that come to steal my property. The children are punished, then sent back. The thieves are killed." She placed her hand on Rose's neck, caressing her slightly. "Tell me, are you a curious child? Or a thief?"

 

Rose felt the cold fingers against her skin, and realized that if the vampire was strong enough to lift the stone lid without making a sound, she was more than strong enough to snap her neck with one hand. And she had a feeling that if she didn't do as the vampire wanted, that was exactly what she would do. "I'm a child," she told her, "A child!"

 

"Is that so?" the vampire said, looking down at Rose's backpack, which had fallen to the floor.  She grinned even wider, baring her fangs at her trembling captive. "That does not look like souvenirs taken by a child on adventure. So, tell me. Are you really a child that needs to be punished?"

 

The hungry eyes came closer, and Rose grasped for the only straw she had. "Yes! Yes, I'm a child! A child that should be punished!" she said, backing into the wall. There was nowhere to run, and even if there was, the vampire was faster.

 

The vampire took a step back. "Good. Come here," she said as she stepped towards the coffin. Rose followed her; if she disobeyed the vampire, she was dead, no question about it. If she did as instructed, she might have a small chance.

 

The vampire sat down on an old stone bench, beckoning Rose towards her. "Well, child, I think a good spanking will teach you not to disrupt my sleep again."

 

"A what?" Rose said, astonished.

 

"A spanking," the vampire said calmly. "I'm going to strike your bare bottom with my palm until it's red, warm and stinging. That's still a thing in this century, I trust?"

 

Rose nodded. Ordinarily, she would protest at the prospect of being treated like a child, but this was not an ordinary situation. At the moment, she would have cut off her own legs if she thought it might help her live to see sunlight.

 

Cold fingers reached forward, unbuttoning and unzipping Rose's shorts. The vampire sniffed into the air, tutting as she looked up at Rose. "The child is not even potty-trained." Rose paled as she realized that she had wet herself in fear.

 

"I'm sorry," she said, trembling a bit. If she managed to offend the vampire, she knew it would be the last thing she did.

 

"That's okay," the vampire told her as she pulled her shorts and panties down to the ground, before lifting Rose out of them and placing her over her lap. She started to rub her pale, trembling bottom. "What is your name, child?"

 

"It's Rose, ma'am. Rose Fairwater."

 

"Rose. What a lovely name," she said in an almost friendly tone. "I am Lady Honoria." She stopped rubbing. "I'm afraid that this is going to hurt very much, Rose."

 

Rose cried out as the first smacks landed on her unprotected buttocks, every fibre of her being telling her to move away, but her brain telling her to move as little as possible. She held her head down and cried as the slim, but strong vampire raised her hand again and again, covering her entire bottom with crisp, stinging swats.

 

"Are you learning your lesson, Rose? I'd hate for my efforts to be in vain."

 

"Ow! Yes, Lady – Ow! – Honoria,  I'm – ouch! – sorry for trespassing."

"Good," the vampire said, smiling brightly.

 

Rose was sobbing loudly, completely unaware of the passage of time, or what was happening around her, apart from that everlasting, all-encompassing pain. All her consciousness was focused on those two cheeks, turning redder and redder under that pale, untiring arm.

 

She slowly realized that she was back on her feet, in the vampire's embrace. Lady Honoria was rubbing her back with one hand and her sore cheeks with another, as she whispered calming words into her ear.

 

"Hush, little child. Your punishment is over, you've been forgiven your transgressions." She smiled down at her. "You can go now." The vampire pointed at her backpack. "You can take those things that you brought into my tomb. But a quick warning. If a single item of mine leaves this tomb... I'll know about it." She looked coldly at Rose. "Do you understand?"

 

Rose nodded, too scared to talk.

 

The vampire sniffed in the air. "Take your clothes with you, as well."

 

A few minutes later, Rose exited the tomb, backpack no heavier than when she entered, apart from her shorts and panties, which she'd placed in a side pocket. Partly because she didn't want to put on urine-stained clothes, and partly because she didn't want to put any pressure on her poor bottom just yet.

 

She made her way back to her car, gingerly lowering herself into the seat, grimacing at the pain. Driving back was going to be interesting.

 

She wondered what she was going to do with her time from now on, since treasure hunting was completely out of the question.