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.

One story per week (website update)

So far, the content of this blog has been old stories I've written over the years (most of which have never been uploaded anywhere else). After a year of doing this, I'm running out of stories.

 

I've tried to upload three stories per week, but the few remaining stories will take more editing to be ready. After that, I'll upload new stories as they're being written, but I doubt I'll be able to write three stories every week. Therefore, the scheduele of this blog will be one story per week from now on.

Dreams of the past (M/F story)

Nate thumbed through the book again, looking for a particular picture.

'Found it'. He smiled to himself. The picture was of an old-fashioned gentleman, late nineteenth century or early twentieth – Nate was by no means an expert. This man, who looked like he was in his mid-thirties, had a young woman over his lap, and was giving her a hard spanking. The girl was kicking her legs, crying her eyes out. Who was she? A daughter, a wife, a girlfriend, a servant, a younger sister left in his care – Nate wasn't sure. Could be any of them, could be none. In those days, a spanko like himself would have plenty of opportunities if he wanted to put a girl over his knee.

Nate sighed, leaning back in his chair. Why did he have to live in THIS century?

The security guard (M/F story)

Mary trembled a little as she entered what the employees at the shop referred to as the "Torture Chamber." It was large, sparsely decorated, and supposedly completely soundproof. This was the domain of Neill, the large, strict-looking security guard. Whenever they got a shoplifter, Neill would take them into the Torture Chamber and glare at them. Eventually, he would tell them that, since it was their first offence, he had decided to let them go. The unspoken threat had ensured that they had very few re-offenders. Last week, a seventeen-year-old girl had wet herself in fear when he glared at her.

Of course, any re-offenders were just handed over to the police. Neill didn't even have the right to directly threaten anyone, much less harm them, but the shoplifters didn't know that.

Mary wasn't a shoplifter, though. Mary was a shop assistant, Neill's lover, and partaker of more than a few strange games with him. She looked around the Torture Chamber. Neill had added a new piece of furniture to his collection; a desk with manacles attached to the sides, with a riding crop leaning against it. Most of the employees thought he just added things like this to scare the kids. Mary knew that he really did it for her.

New kid in class (F/f story)

Rose had known that they would be getting a new boy in class today. The teacher had told them that his name was Richard. Her father had told her that his parents were nice, and that he seemed like a bright chap.

What she HADN'T known, what no one had deemed it necessary to tell her, was that he was drop-dead gorgeous.

Richard was tall, with red hair and a big smile, and a slight accent that just made him seem even more interesting. She knew he didn't live far from her, and she immediately decided that she had to get to know him better. Her father always said that it was important to have a good relationship with your neighbours, and Rose could finally see the wisdom of that position.

They were about halfway through the first lesson of the day, when she noticed a slight problem with her bright, shining future. That problem was commonly referred to as 'Harmony', at least to her face. Harmony was blonde, half a foot taller than Rose, and possessed a smile as friendly as it was brain-dead. And that smile was now beaming towards Richard.

Rose frowned. She had competition. That did not mean she would give up without a fight.

The Mara (M/F story)

"Sorry about that," I said as I stifled another yawn. "Haven't been getting much sleep lately."

My grandmother narrowed her eyes. I could see that she was getting one of her strange ideas.

"Have you been having... bad dreams?"

I had, and I told her so. "Nightmares. Every night this week, actually. I wake up drenched in sweat."

"I had a feeling there was a Mara in town. Just didn't know she was after you."

"Mara?"

"A Scandinavian creature of the Night. A young woman that sits on your chest while you sleep, draining your energy while giving you bad dreams." She filled my teacup again. "It's where the word 'Nightmare' comes from."

I smiled. My grandmother had always been a bit superstitious. But instead of making her nervous, it had made her battle-ready. Eager to study, to protect those that couldn't protect themselves. It was actually fairly sweet in its daftness.

"I can tell you how to make her leave you alone, if you wish."

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself," she said, smiling. She knew what I thought of her whims, and she didn't really care.

Vicky's old babysitter (M/F story)

"Hey, Simon! How it's going? Hey! Simon!"

Simon, who was sitting outside in the garden reading a book, looked up to see who was calling him. A young woman with red hair was leaning against the fence, smiling at him. He scoured his brain, trying to remember who it was, when it suddenly hit him. "Good grief. Victoria Miller! I haven't seen you in ages!" Years ago, when he was a student, he'd been her babysitter. He remembered the bratty young girl in pigtails, and contrasted it to the curvy young woman in the short skirt standing in front of him. She would be nineteen now, he concluded from some light mental arithmetic. She looked older. "You've certainly changed!"

"Not that much," she said, looking displeased. "I still hate being called 'Victoria'."

"Well, Vicky," he said, using her preferred nickname, "Why don't you have a seat?" He nodded towards a nearby chair. "I'll fetch some sodas, and we can talk."

For the next half hour or so, they sat there, discussing old memories. Suddenly, Vicky looked up. "I think it's going to rain. Mind if we go inside?"

 

He looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, sure, but it didn't seem like it was going to rain any time soon, but he saw no reason not to head inside. "Sorry about the mess," he said as they entered. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Don't worry," she said, looking around. "It's a lot cleaner than my apartment., I can promise you that."
"Still don't like to tidy up?" he said, grinning. "I seem to remember you getting in trouble for that a few times."

She shrugged. "It's dull, and I have more interesting things to do with my time." She sat down on the couch, leaning back. "In trouble," she said, chewing on the words. "Yeah, I have been in trouble a few times in my life, sure. But I was a bit surprised you never punished me." She stared into the wall, thinking back. "Not once." She looked over at him. "Remember how you used to threaten me? Every time I got too loud, you'd threaten to bare my bottom and pull me over your knee."

He thought back. "I did, yeah. And it worked, too. You quietened down almost instantly."

"But you never did it, though," she said. Were his ears deceiving him, or did she sound slightly disappointed? "In all the years you babysat me, you never once actually spanked me."

At the mansion (F/M)

I once a short story called Lady Emily, about a noblewoman who catches and punishes a trespasser. This was the follow-up. The first story was short, poorly written, and not worth uploading, but I considered this good enough to pass the threshold. This is also my last non-uploaded F/M story - until I run out of old stories to upload, there will only be M/F stories (and one or two F/F stories).

Brian stepped up to the door and rang the bell, more nervous than he ever could remember being. Earlier that week, he had taken a shortcut over the property of Lady Emily, the young, but authoritative owner of the mansion and most of the surrounding area. She had caught him, and decided with to deal with this trespassing young man by baring his bottom and giving him a good whipping with her riding crop. It had been all too clear that she had enjoyed this punishment.

The thing was, so had he. And since this had been obvious, the Lady had invited him over the following Friday for another dose of discipline. Friday, at seven, had arrived, and he was standing outside the mansion wondering how long he would have to wait.

The door opened, and a tall, redheaded maid looked him up and down.

Late home (F/F story)

 Emily looked at her watch again, as if expecting time to have passed backward since the last time she looked at it. To her complete lack of amazement, it hadn't. One thirty. She picked up the brush laying in her lap, patting it against her palm as she looked forward to using it. If her sister was okay, she was going to pay for making her worry like this.

Cheryl was almost ten years younger than her, and had been living with her for some time. When she had moved in, Emily had made the choice to never use the old methods of discipline, as she didn't want to turn into their mother. Unfortunately, Cheryl was harder to control than Emily had anticipated.

The sound of someone approaching the house woke Emily from her half-sleep. Silently, as if trying to avoid waking anyone up, the mystery figure opened the kitchen door, and entered on tiptoes, smiling confidently.

Helping her cousin (F/F story)

There was something about the look on Hannah's face as she stood on her doorstep that told Abby that they were about to have a very important conversation. She looked nervous, glancing around as if she didn't really want to meet Abby's gaze.

"Hey, Hannah. What's up?" Abby said, giving her younger cousin the most comforting smile she could.

"I have something I want to talk to you about," Hannah told her. "May I come in?"

As they went inside, Abby decided to stop in the kitchen and grab a soda for her cousin. It had now been a month since Hannah moved into town to go to college, and Abby had tried to talk to her as often as she could, checking on her and seeing that she was okay. Right now, Abby was the only family that Hannah had within miles.

"So, how's college life treating you?" Abby asked as they sat down in the living room, and she handed her the soda. Hannah took a sip, and shrugged.

"It's okay. A lot to take in of course, and I'm not used to living by myself yet..." She bit her lip, and it was clear that there was something important she wanted to talk about. Abby nodded, letting the girl make up her mind on how to proceed.

"The thing is," Hannah continued after a while. "It's a bit harder to study than I had expected. No one's looking over my shoulder, you know? I don't do it as much as I know I should. And the cleaning is..." she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "If my mother had seen the state of my apartment, I would be bare-bottomed over her knee, wriggling beneath her wicked hairbrush."

Abby stared at her. The fact that her younger cousin was still subject to sore bottoms was a surprise, as was the fact that she was willing to share that fact with someone. If Abby had still been spanked at that age, it would be her most closely guarded secret. "Well, then," Abby said, showing her comforting smile again. "You should count yourself lucky that she's not here to spank you, then."

"I should, shouldn't I?" Hannah said quietly, staring at the carpet. Abby furrowed her brow. Her cousin was acting very strangely. "I keep thinking that I SHOULD be disciplined, you know? That I would do better with a firm hand now and again."

Abby nodded as if she knew what her cousin was talking about, though she really didn't. The day she'd grown too old for her mother's spankings was one of the happiest of her life.

"So, uh..." Hannah licked her lips, taking a large sip from the soda bottle to gather her thoughts. "I was wondering if you'd help me, Abby."

Handling his accounts (F/M story)

"Right," Summer said and held out her hand. "Give them here."

Brian handed his younger sister the papers he had been carrying, and wondered how in the world he had ended up in this situation.

The answer was obvious, of course. Brian had always been bad at handling money. Try as he might, he just wasn't the financially responsible kind. About eight or nine months ago, he had phoned his little sister, who was studying to be an accountant.

"Your problem isn't that you haven't got enough coming in," she told him. "Nor that you have any particular expensive habits or anything like that. No, the problem is that you keep making small, but expensive impulsive purchases. You can't go past something you want without buying it, especially when you've been drinking. You lack discipline. But I can help you with that."

"Oh really? How?" he'd asked her, desperate for a way out of his troubles.

"Spankings."

"Excuse me?" Was this another of her silly jokes?

"Spankings. You come to me every two weeks, and I take a look at your expenses this month. If I find something there I don't like, I take you over my knee and teach you a lesson with my brush."

He had told her as calmly as he could that there was no way in hell he would submit to something like that from his YOUNGER SISTER, and that if she couldn't be serious, he'd hang up.

"Hang up if you want," she had told him. "But that won't fix your financial troubles. You'll be back."

A month later, he showed up at her house. He had thought seriously about her offer, and decided he had to reluctantly accept. The petite redhead gave her the strictest glare she was able to muster, then told him that had wasted a whole month. Since he showed so little regard for both his time and hers, she had decided he would receive a spanking right away. On that first visit, he had been shocked at how quickly his tiny sister had reduced him to a crying mess, but she was a lot scarier with that brush in her hand.

"Well, everything seems to be in order. You're acting a lot more like a responsible adult. And I think you know why," she said, smiling smugly at him. One of his hands reached back to rub his bottom.

"Hang on, what's this?" He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as her brow furrowed. "What's this? ANOTHER trip to the pub. That makes three this month. What did I tell you about that, Brian?"

"You told me that 'Two nights out a month is more than enough, if they're that expensive,'" he said, quoting one of her rules.

"Good. And what did I say I would do if you broke that rule?"

"You'd 'light my butt up like a Christmas tree,'" he said, blushing like mad as he quoted her exact words.

"And I will." She shook her head as she made a mark on the paper with her red pen. "I really had hoped we would make it through a meeting without me having to blister your bottom."

"Then don't!" He pleaded. "Please, it's just one little mark, can't we forget about it, this once?"

For a few seconds, she just sat there, glaring at him. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say we should ignore the rules. You've already got ONE spanking coming your way, but I can easily make it two."

"Sorry," he told her.

"Apology accepted." She picked up the brush from her purse. "Now, hands on your head and get over here."

She pulled down his trousers and boxers, letting him stand there for a few seconds before she patted her lap. He lowered himself as fast as he could; anything to end the humiliation of standing there on display.

He sighed to himself. One mark! One bloody mark! Why couldn't he have stayed home that third night?

Summer had a special system of rules, and one of those rules concerned the length of his punishments. If he earned any marks, any at all, she would start off with a five-minute spanking with the brush. Then, when that was over, she would give him ten hard strokes for every mark he had. On the other hand, if he had no marks at all, he would get off without a spanking. Unfortunately, that hadn't happened yet.

"Are you ready, Brian?" she asked, rubbing his bottom with her brush.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she said with a grin as she lifted the brush.

The strokes weren't very hard, especially compared with the ones at the end of his punishment, but they still stung quite a bit, and they came fast. It wasn't long before the tears appeared.

"Stop struggling, Brian," she said as she circled his waist with her arm. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

"But it hurts!" he cried out.

"That's the point."

His bottom turned pink, then red, as he kicked and cried, pleading for mercy. When his five minutes were up, she stopped.

"Now, one mark, that's ten strokes. Are you going to be a good boy and lie still now?"

"I'll try," he told her.

"That's all anyone asks, Brian, that you try. Problem is, up until now, you haven't."

Ten hard strokes rang out in the silent room, and Brian cried out at every one, but he managed to not move for any of them.


Later, Brian left his sister's apartment, rubbing the sting from his bottom as he made his way home. And just like last time, and the time before that, he promised himself that next time, NEXT TIME, he would earn no marks at all.