Messy desk (M/F story)

Nathan sighed, trying his absolute best to remain calm. A few months ago, his wife had lost her job, and they'd decided that he should employ her as a secretary at his small company. Over time, two things had become clear to him. The first was that a woman who is fired for disorganization and forgetting important tasks, doesn't magically become more competent just because her employer is also her husband. Secondly, when your employee is also your wife, firing her isn't really an option.

"What you're telling me," he said slowly and deliberately, making sure they were on the same page, "is that you have no idea where the Bowman report is."

"It's somewhere around here," Susan replied, waving her hand at the mountain of papers on the desk. "I just don't know exactly were."

Spanked by a friend (F/M story)

It was an early Thursday evening, and Jake was sitting on the couch in his new apartment, having a few beers with his closest friends. They didn't usually drink in the middle of the week, but Jake had broken up with his girlfriend a few days before, and they felt he needed a bit of sympathy. He was telling them all about how she'd called him an immature man-child, and how she wished she'd never met him.

Harry was telling him how lucky he was that he got rid of her, and how he'd take him out to the local bars, chasing skirt for a few nights. Kirsten was telling him that he was a decent man, and that he would bounce back soon enough.

Fred was talking about the drinking habits of giraffes, and Jake wasn't entirely sure whether he was trying to use it as an inspirational allegory, or if he'd just outright forgotten what they were discussing, but he was quite entertaining to listen to, at least. Sarah wasn't saying much, just giving him encouraging smiles to show she supported him. It was rare of her to be this quiet; she was never afraid to speak her mind.

As the night grew long, they started to leave. Almost everyone had work in the morning, leaving Jake and Sarah alone with the rest of the beer. He looked at her. "You've said very little all evening," he pointed out. She nodded. "What's your take on it, then?"

"I think she was right about one thing," she said calmly. "I think you are immature."

Riding lessons (M/F story)

Catherine smiled to herself as she arrived home. David had told her that since money was tight, she'd have to give up her riding lessons, and she'd promised that she would. But what her husband didn't know, wouldn't hurt him, would it? She had more than enough time to get home and get changed again before his workday was done, and he'd never known where she'd been. Luckily, he never checked the credit card statement – she was the one who did that.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice his car parked outside, so her first hint that something was wrong was when she entered the house and found him sitting on the sofa with a displeased expression.

Her Birthday (M/F story)

When Rick spotted a tall, attractive redhead entering his favourite bar, he had wasted no time in offering to buy her a drink. The woman, whose name was Joanne, accepted his offer, and they were now chatting pleasantly. He'd flirted a bit with her, but while she wasn't unreceptive to his advances, he had a feeling that he would probably go home alone today – maybe with her phone number, but maybe not. This was a slight disappointment, but in his view, a pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman is never a bad thing, even if it doesn't lead to anything more.

She'd just asked for another margarita, and he offered to pay for this one as well. She seemed about to refuse, but then accepted. "After all," she told him as the bartender handed her the drink. "It's my birthday today."

"Oh? Congratulations," he said. He leaned forward, wanting to test her reaction to a more sexual suggestion than those he had already attempted. "So have you had your birthday spanking today?"

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.

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.