What we found (M/F story)

"Have you found anything interesting?" Jacob asked as he opened the thirty-fourth box of the day.

Jacob and his colleague Anne were teachers in one of the oldest schools in the county. Some of the rooms in the basement had not been used in decades, and the principal wondered if some of them could be cleaned up and used again. Unfortunately, most of them had been filled with clutter, which meant that someone had to go through the room and throw out everything that was no longer needed. Jacob and Anne were the only two that volunteered.

Jacob suggested to Anne that they should keep an eye out for anything unusual, funny, or interesting while cleaning, to provide a bit of entertainment. "You'll always find something old and fun in places like this," he said. "Just you wait." Anne knew he was a bit of an oddball, but he could be quite charming.

"I haven't found anything in particular. How about you?" Anne replied as looked around for another box to place on the table.

"I found this. Interesting enough for you?" When she turned around, Jacob was holding an old cane which had probably been hanging in a wardrobe. He grabbed the handle and swung it through the air a few times, smiling to himself at the whistling sound. "Brings back memories."

Trading chores (M/F & F/F story)

"Stacy, I want you to mow the lawn on the southern side of the house. Jane, you can paint the fence on the western side."

Stacy and her cousin Jane, both at the end of their teens, were spending a few weeks with their uncle in his house in the country. The tall, broad man could be kind and generous if he wanted, but he also made sure they helped him around the house - and there were consequences for anyone caught slacking.

"Aw, come on, Uncle Robert," Jane complained. "That will take all day! It's such a nice, sunny day - I want to relax!"

"It will only take two or three hours - you can relax afterward. The sun's not going anywhere."

"But I hate painting," Jane replied sullenly.

"We'll switch tasks, then," Stacy said. "You prefer mowing over painting, right? I don't."

Jane's face lit up at that, but Uncle Robert shook his finger. "No trading chores, either. You're not just here to relax - your parents haven't taught you proper maintenance, and these are skills you'll need in the future. If you trade chores, you'll be missing that lesson."

Curfew (F/fF story)

When I was nineteen, I stayed as a foreign exchange student in the home of an English woman named Janet Travers. She had a sixteen-year-old daughter, Suzie, a short, cute, red-headed girl who had the same taste in clothes, music, and films as me. She also played a lot of video games, while I spent more time reading books, but the two of us rapidly became good friends – in fact, we acted like sisters.

A few weeks into my stay, I decided to head out to the pub to have a drink, make new friends – maybe flirt with boys. Suzie accompanied me, and her mother told us we had to be back before eleven.

At the pub, I was having a really good time, and when Suzie nudged me and said that it was now half past ten and we should think about heading home, I told her that she was worrying needlessly. Neither of us had school in the morning, and I was having a really good time. I was also enjoying a very good beer which I'd already forgotten the name of (I'd bought Suzie a Fanta), and didn't want to end the evening.

"But my mother said we had to be back by eleven, and I don't want to be punished," she told me anxiously.

"But you're almost an adult. Don't tell me you think your mother will ground you at this age!"

"Not exactly," she said, but didn't elaborate further.

Stress and attitude (M/F story)

Lizzie looked down on her stomach, pulling at it to see if there was any fat she could get rid of. There was, she concluded grimly. She still didn't look like the girls in the magazines. She had a feeling she never would.

She had gone out running before breakfast every day this week, and she really wanted to see the changes. But there was still that little strip of unnecessary fat to get rid of.  She made it back home, panting for air. She was exhausted. Good. That meant she was giving it her best.

When she got inside, her boyfriend, Rob, was setting the breakfast table, lighting up as he saw her. "Good morning, Lizzie," he said. "I figured you'd be back soon. Hard workout today?"

She scowled at him. He didn't need to run like she did. No one she knew did.

He sighed. "Let's try that again. I say 'good morning', so you say …"

"I'm going back to bed, Rob," she said, brushing past him.

"You don't need to be rude about it," he told her, his gentle voice containing a very clear threat. "I expect at least a token effort at being civil, even in the morning."

"Go fuck yourself," she snapped.

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.