Linda plants evidence (M/F story)

Linda smiled mischevously while sneaking through the changing room at the school's gymnasium. She quickly went through some of the jackets hanging there, and in Sophie's pocket, she found a pair of airpods. She glanced around to confirm that she was alone, and then placed them in Anna's bag. She then hurried out of the changing room before anyone noticed she had gone in there.

Lately, there had been a lot of arguing in the girls' changing room – insults thrown back and forth, a bit of scuffling, and some claimed that things had been stolen. Coach Henry, a tall, athletic man, had finally had enough of the 18- and 19-year-olds who couldn't act more maturely, so he'd finally announced that if they were going to act like children, he'd treat them accordingly, and that he'd take them over his knee and spank them if they didn't stop. The girls had giggled and treated it as a joke, so it came as a shock to them when he bought a small wooden paddle and hung it up in his office. This had led to a remarkable improvement in changing room behaviour; no one wanted to be the first girl to be spanked by the coach.

Linda really wanted to see one of the other girls get spanked – sobbing and squirming over the coach's lap while he thrashed them long and hard with his paddle – but chiefly she wanted to see it happen to Anna. Anna was a petite brunette with doe eyes and a cute bubble butt. Some weeks ago, Anna had sent some pictures of herself in her workout outfit to Linda's boyfriend. The tight, white shorts disappearing into her crack had been a particularly attractive sight, so Linda thought that a fitting punishment for this shameless flirting was that the same shorts were spanked by the coach – or that they were taken down, and the cheeky girl was spanked on the bare! That would be even better.

When she returned to class, Linda did her best to appear nonchalant, and not show that she was waiting for something. Luckily, no one had noticed that she'd been gone. The minutes slowly ticked away as she ran around in the gymnasium, but finally, class was over, and they returned to the changing rooms. Linda delibaretly didn't look too closely at Sophie when she checked her jacket pockets, furrowed her brows, and walked back out again.

After a few minutes, Henry entered. "Someone has just told me that a pair of earplugs were stolen here today. Does the guilty party wish to step forward, so we don't have to waste any more time on this?" The girls looked at each other, but no one said anything. After a few seconds, the coach sighed loudly. "Fine, then I'll have to search you. Backpacks first, then you'lll have to empty your pockets."

The search only lasted a few minutes. When he pulled the airpods out of Anna's backpack, she stared at them, her face pale. "Those – those aren't mine!"

"Yes, I know," Henry replied drily. "They belong to the girl you stole them from. I expected better of you, Anna."

Linda peeks (M/F story)

Another story written for a certain naughty young lady I know.

"Come and look at this, Eileen," Linda said as she waved her friend over. The brunette Eileen looked at the dress that her blonde friend was holding. "Isn't this perfect for the party next weekend?"

Eileen shrugged. "It's very nice, but we've spent a lot of money already."

"You can afford it, can't you? Haven't you worked a lot of overtime lately? You have to spend that money, you know."

"Well… when you put it that way… it IS a really cute dress."


About two hours later, the two 19-year-olds came back to Eileen's apartment. "George, can you help us with these bags? There's quite a lot to carry," Eileen said to her boyfriend.

George raised an eyebrow as he looked at the pile of clothes. "Haven't we agreed that you should be spending less money on clothes?" he said with a sharp edge to his voice.

Eileen shrugged. "I've worked a lot of overtime lately…"

"…Because we were going on vacation next year, so we agreed it would be a good idea to start saving up," he continued. "Have you changed your mind? You should have told me."

She shook her head. "No, the Canary Islands sound really lovely, so we're definitely going."

"And how does that fit with going out and buying clothes – especially when your wardrobe is already full?" George folded his arms in front of his muscular chest, and furrowed his brow.

Linda grinned as she watched them. It was slightly funny to see her friend get scolded by her boyfriend – especially since it was partly Linda's fault.

Eileen placed her hands on her hips and scowled at George. "It's my money, and I do what I want with it."

"Do you want me to pay for the whole trip?" George asked sharply. Eileen shrugged, as if it didn't matter to her. George turned to Linda. "Linda, I think it's best that you go home. Eileen and I will be having a private conversation."

Linda turned to leave, but Eileen placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. There's not going to be any such conversation."

"Yes, there is," George said in a very strict voice, and Linda shivered. She thought it was best to disappear.

She'd gone a few hundred meters down the road when she suddenly remembered that she'd left her shopping bags behind. She turned and went back, but before she could ring the doorbell, she heard voices from inside.

"George, you cannot do this! Let go of me!"

"No chance, Eileen. You've behaved like a brat, and you're getting a spanking."

Linda's heart was beating so loudly in her chest that for a moment she feared that they would hear her. Was Eileen really getting a spanking? From nice, sweet George? It sounded unbelievable – and also terribly delicious to think about. She thought about opening the door and telling them she was there to pick up the bags; maybe he'd let her watch while he spanked Eileen! But she doubted it. He'd probably wait until she left again. But maybe he'd forgotten to close the curtains…

Linda goes jogging (M/F story)

Written for a spankee of my acquaintance.

Linda smiled as she jogged down the track. It was a lovely spring day, the sun was shining, and the 19-year-old felt that this was the day she was going to beat her personal record. Another kilometer or two, and she'd stop – and the young blonde had moved faster than ever before.

As she continued to jog, she pulled out her phone to change the song. She'd heard this one far too often lately, so she quickly scrolled down to find something she hadn't heard in a while. Something by Pitbull, maybe? Unfortunately, she didn't look where she was going, so she suddenly crashed into something and fell back, her bottom slamming down on the hard track.

She sat there, rubbing her sore posterior, and glanced up at a tall, athletic man in his twenties who was looking sympathically at her. Just like Linda, he was dressed in running clothes. He'd stopped at the side of the track to drink water, and she had apparently jogged straight into him. "Are you OK?" he asked her kindly, and held out his hand to help her up.

Linda slapped his hand away, and stood up without his help. "I almost broke my record, and now I can't. It's your fault – you should apologize!" she said sulkingly.

The man raised an eyebrow. "So you run into me because you're staring at your phone, and you expect an apology from ME?"

Linda scowled at him. "You were in my way! If you're not running, you can get out of the way for the rest of us."

"I was on the side of the track, young lady," he pointed out, with a hint of irritation in his voice. It was clear he was not impressed by her tone. "And it was you who ran into me. It's clearly YOU who should apologize."

Linda stood with her hands on her hips and stared at the man. How did he dare to talk to her that way? "It's YOUR fault that I fell and hurt my butt, and don't pretend otherwise," she said, shoving him in the chest.

The man glared back, his gaze stern, and Linda took an involuntary step back. "I did not come here to argue with insolent girls, but if you don't watch your mouth, lttle miss, your butt will hurt a lot more – because I will take you across my knee and spank you."

Country boy 2: The Woodshed (m/F story)

A sequel to Country boy.

It was now about a month since a boy in his late teens had taken my 32-year-old bottom over his knee, bared it, and spanked it soundly. I had been driving on a backwater road, with no food or water with me, and no map. When my phone's battery died, I lost the GPS that I'd relied on, and had no way to call for help. To make matters worse, I then got a flat tire. Crying my frustration to the heavens, I had proclaimed that I deserved a good, hard spanking – and Ken, who had been walking nearby, overheard. He fixed my tire, pointed me in the right direction, and spanked my backside, and I was grateful for all three actions.

And now, I was heading to his house, hoping that he'd spank me again.

Regular spankings had not been a part of my life since my boyfriend broke up with me half a year ago, and I missed it. I had long ago discovered that I was a woman who needed to sit gingerly from time to time, and I should never go too long without a burning backside. Being unspanked for long stretches of time just led to me acting foolishly. Therefore, I decided to look up Ken's address and visit the only person who had given my butt what it needed since my boyfriend left. Though he was inexperienced, he was also a quick learner, and an absolute natural at delivering spankings. I could have phoned ahead and told Ken I was coming, but I decided it would be much more fun if I didn't.

It was about six in the afternoon when I spotted the lonely house. As I drove closer, I spotted a tall, strong woman in her forties who was sitting on the porch. I realized it was Ken's mother, as she had the same blue eyes – and the fact that they lived in the same house was another obvious hint. As I introduced myself, I spotted Ken exiting the house behind her. His eyes widened when he saw me.

"Hello, I'm Christine," I told the woman as I shook her hand. "A month or so ago, I had a flat tire near here, and Ken was kind enough to give me a hand when and where I needed it the most." Standing next to his mother, he raised an eyebrow at my little joke, but made no comment. "I was driving through the area now, and realized that I hadn't thanked him properly, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to do it now."

Ken's mother, whose name turned out to be Margaret, smiled at me with a typical mother's pride at hearing her beloved son praised. We chatted for a while, and Margaret asked me to join them for some coffee. As she went inside to prepare a pot, I was left alone with Ken. I grinned at him, but he glared back.

"You should have told me you were coming," he scolded.

"I know," I said in an impish tone of voice, sticking my tongue out at him. "What are you going to do about it?"

Teasing the stable-hand (M/F story)

The 20-year-old stable-hand Philip was bent over his work when he noticed approaching footsteps, as well as the smell of a very lovely perfume, which was massively out of place here in the Earl's old barn. "Hello, Philip! What are you doing?" a sweet, feminine voice called out. He looked up and saw the Earl's oldest daughter approaching.

"Hello, Lady Anna," the young man said, giving her a respectful bow. "I am just repairing this saddle."

She rolled her eyes as she approached him, pouting slightly. "How many times have I told you to drop that 'Lady' nonsense and just call me Anna?"

"Forty-three, I believe, Lady Anna," he said, still maintaining the same respectful tone of voice.

"Well, stop it, then!" she said, slapping his shoulder teasingly and fluttering her eyelashes at him. "I want us to be friends, and good friends don't talk to each other like that."  She stepped closer, her face inches away from him. "Don't you want to be my... friend, Philip? I'm VERY nice to my friends."

The fragrance of her perfume, combined with those deep blue eyes which now gazed into his own, made him slightly light-headed. He watched her rosy lips part slightly, and at the back of his mind, Philip wondered how it would feel to kiss them. They would probably taste like the sweetest strawberries. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then turned to the saddle. "I should probably finish my work, Lady Anna."

Lady Anna was a tall, red-headed woman of nineteen with porcelain skin, currently clad in a simple, scarlet summer dress. Ordinarily, Philip would have gladly sacrificed an arm to have the attention of a young woman as kind, charming, and beautiful as her, but she was also the daughter of a rich, powerful nobleman, and he suspected that the man would disapprove if he found a stableboy in his employ flirting with his beloved daughter. That might quickly lead to unemployment – or worse.

And that assumed his understanding of the situation was correct. Was she just being friendly, and he was misreading her? He was pretty certain he wasn't, but being wrong could be costly. Or maybe she had a well-hidden cruel streak – maybe she was just trying to trick him into acting indecently, then get him in trouble for it? He was a muscular, good-looking lad, but he didn't think there was anything so special about him that it warranted the attention of an actual Lady.

Unfortunately, no matter how formal and respectful he acted toward her, it didn't seem to discourage her. In fact, it only egged her on further, to see if she could crack his armour. As he focused on his work, she stepped up behind him, leaning against him and putting her head on his shoulder. He shivered gently as he felt her rest her body against him. "It looks awfully complicated, Philip. You must be very skilled if you're able to fix it."

"It's not as hard as you believe, Lady Anna," he said gruffly, trying to discourage her from talking to him any further, while remaining respectful toward the high-born lady. "The seat needs to be re-stitched, and one of the stirrups is damaged."

He continued to look at the saddle, trying as hard as he could to focus on the work ahead of him, instead of the beautiful woman who was now standing next to him. He was trying to figure out whether the stirrup could be repaired, or whether it was necessary to replace it, when she stepped in front of him and leaned forward to stare at the saddle. "Wow! How interesting."

Still trying to focus on his work, the absent-minded stableboy reacted instinctively, swatting the seat of her scarlet dress. "Out of my way," he scolded, the way he would if one of the girls from the village had come to disturb him while he was working – which they occasionally did. She jumped out of his way, and he continued working.

It took a few seconds before Philip fully comprehended what he'd just done. Once the realization finally struck, a cold shiver ran down his back, and he slowly turned his gaze toward her. She was standing a few feet away, staring at him, her eyes almost as wide as his own, while both hands protectively clasped her bottom. After a few seconds, her shocked expression was replaced by a grin. "Well! Finally, a reaction out of you – and WHAT a reaction! Wow!" She rubbed her backside theatrically.

"Lady Anna, I am SO sorry that -" he began, a horrified look on his face, but she cut him off.

"If I had known you'd respond like that, I'd have done that a LONG time ago." She giggled. "Do it again."

The Christmas Present (M/F story)

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes on Christmas morning, Jeremy noticed that his girlfriend had gotten out of bed before him, and had thoughtfully let him sleep in. He put on a t-shirt and some sweatpants and smiled contentedly as he left their bedroom to look for her. He wondered if Rosie had started on breakfast, or was waiting for him so they could make it together. He always wanted to start Christmas Day with a cup of cocoa.

He found Rosie in the living room, holding one of her presents and pulling the paper away to have a look. When she glanced up and saw him, she squeaked and blushed. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to peek at my presents – it was an accident, I promise."

He grinned as he watched her, overjoyed as he realized that she wanted to start Christmas Day with some playtime. Wearing her pink pyjamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, and with her long, brown hair in pigtails, she presented an adorable sight as she pouted and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He knew she would look even more adorable over his knee, yelping with a pink bottom.

 

He tutted, eventually managing a good impression of a disapproving frown. "That was very naughty of you, Rosie. I expected better of you. I think you have to be punished." He stepped forward and gently grabbed her wrist, and started dragging her toward the couch. As she protested and promised to be good from now on, while not making the slightest effort to resist or escape from his grasp, he grinned and once again thanked his lucky stars that he'd found a girlfriend that loved being spanked more than anything else in the world.

Pushed too far (M/F story)

Geoffrey had been employed in Count Landon's stables for some years now, working for Matthew the stablemaster. Geoffrey was a beardless youth who had entered his twenties a few days ago, and was only a stableboy, with no fancy title. However, when he first arrived at the mansion, he had been surprised by the way that the Count never spoke down to even the lowest of his servants, treating them with an undeserved and unexpected amount of respect. He would often ask how Geoffrey's day was going, or enquire about the health of his parents. When the Count wanted to go for a ride, he always notified Geoffrey an hour or two in advance, so that the young man would have ample time to get the horses ready. And if Matthew was away – for example, if Count Landon wanted to buy some new horses and needed to send an expert to carry out the purchase – he treated Geoffrey as if he was the interim stablemaster. Two of the Count's younger sisters acted the same way.

The third sister, however, was quite another matter.

Lady Laura was the youngest of the family; a petite, beautiful, red-headed woman of 23 who was usually impeccably dressed in the loveliest of gowns, and could look lovely if she smiled – though she rarely did. She was arrogant, and had a cruel streak that she rarely revealed in front of her siblings. It never bothered Geoffrey that she never asked about him or his family, but she would show up at the stable telling him that she wanted to ride NOW, and then be surprised and offended that he did not have a horse ready for her at all times. She would scold him as cruelly as she could, then stomp off to bother someone else. Geoffrey wanted to tell someone, but Matthew would only shrug disinterestedly if he brought it up, and he didn't think that the Count would be happy to hear the stableboy complain about his darling little sister.

It was a sunny Friday morning, and Geoffrey had been feeling good about his day, until he looked up to see Lady Laura approach him. She was wearing her riding dress, carrying her riding crop, and giving him a look of contempt, as if he was something she'd just stepped in. "Geoffrey, I'm going riding now."

"Of course, Lady Laura," he said, giving her his most respectful bow. "I'll start preparing Goldie."

She frowned. "Why is my horse not ready for me?"

"Because, Lady Laura," he said, his voice respectful, "I was not aware that you wanted to ride this morning."

"Look outside – it's a beautiful day. Why wouldn't I go riding?"

Geoffrey wanted to point out that it had been a beautiful day yesterday, and the day before that, and she hadn't wanted to go riding then, but he suspected she wouldn't appreciate hearing it. "I'll have her ready as soon as I can, Lady Laura."

"Very well, I'll be back in five minutes," she said, as she turned to leave.

"Milady," he said, summoning his patience to remain polite, "there is quite a lot I need to do to get your horse ready. It will probably take about half an hour."

She spun around, staring at him. "Half an hour? I thought you said you would get started right away?"

"I will, Lady Laura," he assured her. "But I need to clean her hooves, brush her down, fasten the saddle and the -"

"Take a nap in the corner, you mean," she said dismissively. "Well, I'm not as easily fooled as my brother. It shouldn't take five minutes to slap a saddle on her, never mind thirty. I expect you to have her ready when I return. You don't need to worry about her hooves and things like that, surely."

"Lady Laura, I really don't think you understand -" he said, a slight hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"How dare you!" She was glaring at him now. "You waste my time and insult my intelligence?" She lifted the crop and started to swing it at his head. As the blows rained down, he took a few steps back to put as much distance between himself and the angry noblewoman as possible.

It took a second before he realized that he was backing toward the stall of Jackson, one of the angrier horses – a horse that was facing away from him, and had probably been stressed by all the shouting going on.

He threw himself on the ground just in time, hearing the hooves whistle past. If he'd been half a second later, those hoofs would have struck his head, inflicting a very serious injury  – probably a fatal one. As he lay on the floor, dusty and with a sore jaw from striking the ground, his heart beating from his near-death experience, he heard giggling, and looked up to see Lady Laura laughing merrily at his misfortune.

And this was when he'd finally had enough.

In a flash, he was on his feet and at her side. It's possible that when she saw the look on his face, and felt him grab her wrist, that she realized she'd pushed the servant too far this time, but if she did, she made no effort to apologize or placate his wrath. She protested indignantly as he dragged her over to a stool, then gasped as he sat down and pulled her forcefully over his knee.

On stableboys and princesses (non-story)

I've always been a fan of role reversal - stories where someone who SHOULD be in authority, gets spanked by someone who should be obeying them. Students spanking teachers, secretaries spanking bosses, etc. I'm also a member of a google group on the subject, though they mostly post children spanking their parents - which is not my favourite pairing, though I have written one or two stories like that (check the tag "Role reversal" for my role reversal stories).

Somewhat recently, I wanted to write a story where a stableboy spanks a princess, and I started wondering what the justification could be. I came up with three scenarios: it could be for mutual enjoyment, for punishment, or she could insist to an unwilling stableboy. Not wanting to choose between them, I decided to write all three - though the stories changed slightly as I wrote them. While the women in these stories are noblemen's daughters, none of them are actual princesses. Their spankers are stableboys, though.

 

The secret in the hayloft, about mutual enjoyment, was uploaded last week. I'll upload the second about punishment today ("Pushed too far"). I'm hoping to upload the third one next week, but I developed a cold yesterday, so I don't know how much energy I'll have for writing.

The secret in the hayloft (M/F story)

It was interesting to me just how many of the young women at the mansion found Caleb to be the most attractive man around. There was nothing glamorous or interesting about his work as a stableboy, and it meant that when he was around, the musk of sweat was often mixed with the stench of horse , which was not the most fragrant of smells. However, he was quite good-looking – made even more so by the roguish smile he had long ago perfected. And many of the maids and kitchen staff were very interested in a man with a strong physique, built up by years of manual labour, who was good with his hands. And if the rumours that were whispered in the corners of the mansion were true, Caleb was VERY good with his hands.

And as the youngest daughter of the Count, it would just be my duty to investigate those rumours, wouldn't it?

On one particularly fine Friday evening, when the moon was full and there was a delightful breeze in the air, I had concealed myself in the stables. I found myself here because I had observed Caleb wandering with a young woman – presumably, his next conquest – and had decided to head to the one place I knew they would eventually end up. Assuming the rumours were true, of course. I had been there for about half an hour when I heard his voice, accompanied by feminine giggles. He entered the stable, leading a lanky, redhaired girl I recognized as Maggie, the gardener's assistant. There was a blush on her cheek, and her attempt at a demure air did little to conceal her eagerness. His smile was friendly, confident, and lascivious, as if he considered himself close to getting his wish.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, giggling again. "I shouldn't be here."

"I can take you back to the house, if you wish," he offered gallantly, but she shook her head, smiling.

"I can't believe this," she repeated. "Is it true what they say about you?"

He shrugged, as if it was all the same to him. "That depends on what they say."

"You know," she insisted, but he made no sign of understanding her. "That you like to take young women across your lap and ...that you ..." She blushed, stumbling over her words, unable to complete her sentence, but there was a nervous grin on her face.

He smiled, offering her his hand. "Care to find out?"

With no hesitation, she took his hand, and he led her up to the hayloft. From here, they would be safe from unwanted eyes – they could watch the entrance, but no one would be able to climb the ladder to spy on them without them noticing.

Unless, of course, the spy were to climb it BEFORE they arrived, and then conceal herself. Say, about half an hour before.

Past misdeeds, part 3: An old outfit (F/F story)

Third and final part to this story. First part can be found here.

Two weeks ago, I'd been approached in a bar by one of my old classmates, a woman I had not seen for ten years. During our conversation, she admitted that she felt very guilty about once smoking in the classroom, since I'd been given the blame – and the skirt-up, panties-down spanking that came with it. By her request, I had accompanied her back to her apartment, taken her over my knee, and spanked her bare bottom soundly. As I was comforting her afterward, I managed to convince her that her sin was so great that she'd only feel TRULY forgiven if I gave her two more spankings. So, one week later, I returned to Katie's apartment, took her over my knee, and spanked her with her own hairbrush. She looked absolutely adorable squirming and squealing over my knee, especially since I'd made her wear a schoolgirl uniform.

Now, I was walking to her apartment to deliver the third and final spanking. There was something sad about the occasion – Katie was a very cute woman, and I had greatly enjoyed taking her over my knee and spanking her adorable little tushy. And now, it would be the last time.

I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, forcing myself to smile. That just meant I had to enjoy it while it lasted, didn't it? Savour every second of her spanking; every firm smack I delivered to those cute, quivering cheeks.

I rang the bell, and as she opened the door, my jaw dropped. Katie was wearing a skimpy top and miniskirt, which was an outfit I would never have expected to see her in. It looked more like something I would have worn – in fact, looking at it, I realized it was the exact outfit I'd worn on the day Miss Taylor spanked me in front of the class. She'd even dyed her hair, though for some reason, it was pink. In school, my hair had been purple, and believe me, I would gladly have chosen death over pink. On her, it looked quite good, though.

I grinned at her. "That's a new look for you."

She blushed. "I thought that since I'm being..." she glanced behind me, making sure no one was lurking outside her door. "Punished for what happened to you back then, I thought it would only be fitting that I wore the same outfit." She bit her lip, glancing nervously up at me. "Do you like it? I mean, I could go change if it's..."

"You look lovely," I told her, with a smile that was uncharacteristically warm for me. A relieved grin spread across her face, and she turned to lead me inside. When her back was turned, I took hold of the hem of her skirt, lifting it to reveal a dark thong.

"Vanessa!" she squealed, spinning around and pushing her skirt down with both hands. Her face was redder than her bottom had ever been, and she looked outside to confirm that we were still alone. "Please don't do that when the door is still open! I don't want my neighbours to see me like this."

"I wanted to check that you were wearing the full attire – it wouldn't do to wear your usual cartoon panties with that outfit, would it?" I explained. I could probably have tried to sound sorry, but I didn’t. As I closed the door, I pondered her words. "Does that mean you're fine with me flipping your skirt up now, as long as the door is closed?"

"Of course!" she said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're here to give me a well-deserved punishment, aren't you? Do whatever you want – I'm entirely in your hands!" I grinned at that. The woman was showing a far greater trust in me than I deserved. She glanced down, one finger nervously twirling her hair. "I have one request, though, if you're willing to grant it."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Um. Could you just use your hand, this time? That hairbrush really hurt." She reached one hand back to gingerly rub the seat of her skirt, grimacing at the memory.

I nodded. "If you're a good girl and do what I tell you, with no delays or backtalk, I will just use my hand. However, if you disobey me..." I meaningfully rested my hand on my belt. Her eyes followed my movements, and a frown appeared on her face as she tried to grasp my meaning. I realized what was happening – last week, I learned that she'd never heard of a hairbrush being used for spanking, so she probably wasn't familiar with a lot of other implements, either. "I'll take off my belt and whip you with it," I explained.

Her eyes grew wide, and she took a step back, both hands protectively clasping her bottom. "I can assure you, that won't be necessary, ma'am," she insisted earnestly. "I promise you I'll do whatever you say!"

I grinned. "Good to hear."

The inappropriate costume (M/F story)

 Based on a drawing by Skekpen.

Thomas sighed and stretched as he arrived home from his shift at the gas station. True, these evening shifts paid better than the day shifts, but the number of crazies he had to deal with was also a lot higher. And today was Halloween, which hardly made things better. The 25-year-old wished he could have traded shifts with someone, so he could have gone to a Halloween party with his girlfriend instead, but none of his coworkers had been willing. Which was fair enough – if he'd been in their shoes, he wouldn't have traded either.

"Oh, hey, honey," Zoe said, smiling at him from the other end of the living room. She was sitting at the dining table going through a pile of sweets.

He could feel the stress of the workday draining as he watched her happy little face. Zoe was a petite, red-haired woman with a perky disposition, a trusting nature, and an almost terminal lack of common sense. "Hello, darling. Where did you get the sweets?"

"I went trick-or-treating," she said cheerily, grabbing another caramel from the pile.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're twenty-two. Aren't you a little old for that?"

"No one arrested me for it," she said with a shrug. "Want to see my costume?" When he nodded, she retrieved a hairband from the other side of the table. Two black cardboard pieces had been taped to the top, resembling rabbit ears. She placed it on her head, stood up, and looked eagerly at him. "What do you think?" she asked, twirling to give him a proper look.

Thomas stared. After a few seconds, he finally regained the ability to speak. "And where," he said in the calmest voice he could muster, "is the rest of it?"

Zoe was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, long black socks, black shoes, and the black headband. The problem was that between the bottom of the shirt and the top of her socks, the only thing protecting her modesty was a small pair of black panties with a large, white cotton wad sewed onto the seat.

"What do you mean?" she said, furrowing her brow as she looked down at her attire. "This is it." She noticed the expression on his face. "What's wrong with it? Don't you like it?"

"For wearing at home? Wonderful! At a party? Maybe, if it's the right sort of party, and I'm there with you," he said, still trying to remain calm. "Out on the streets? Not a chance."

She glared at him. "People were happy to see me! I got a ton of sweets, you know," she said, nodding to the pile on the table.

"And these people who gave you sweets," he said, "were they mostly middle-aged men?"

She huffed, folding her arms as she tried to pout him into submission. "Yes," she admitted.

Sighing, he picked up one of the dining chairs and placed in the middle of the floor. As he sat down, he patted his lap. "Come here, Zoe."