Billy Goats Gruff: A Spanking Short

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A good old fashioned razor strapping out in the barn, teaches London Tarkenton, while visiting a working family farm, that even collage girls, aren’t too grown up to be thoroughly spanked, when the occasion deems it necessary.


Table of Contents

Part 1. City Girls, and Country Babes

Part 2. The Follies of Brutus

Part 3. Old Barn, and Razor Strap

Epilogue. Dorm Discipline

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About The Author

Part 1. City Girls, and Country Babes

[Rebekah Fox & London Tarkenton, 19 and, 18]

London Tarkenton remained in a state of culture shock. Her visit, with her college roommate, Rebekah to her family's rural North Dakota farm had proven to be a great deal more different than her cultured New York City life. 

The girls had come to Fox farm on school break, though it wasn't turning out to be the vacation that London had in mind when her friend first floated the notion of going back with her to North Dakota. First, the chores that Rebekah's brother, the very tall, muscular, and rather handsome – for a country boy, Buck roused them to go about, did not turn out to be London's idea of fun. She’d expected a few weeks away from New York, to be relaxing, not waking at the crack of dawn so she could go feed chickens very much of a vacation. London would've preferred her biology books over this, and she wasn’t even that outstanding in science. 

Not that Rebekah's family were anything but gracious to her. Certainly her friend’s mother made sure London felt right at home, just like one of the family. And the meals were scrumptious, nice and hearty. The sort of comfort, stick to your ribs food you'd expect on a working farm. 

Things got a little weird... Awkward, however when one evening, Rebekah got bratty with Buck. At first it had been just good humored, little sister teasing of a big brother, yet it crossed the line (in Buck's mind) after Rebekah had begun to engage in foul language when Buck tried to ignore her. Rebekah didn't like being ignored. One too many swear words too far, and Buck ordered Rebekah to get ready to go to the barn. 

Rebekah had looked at him mortified, and even tried to protest, appealing to her mother, who made it quite clear, just as always, Buck being the eldest, and 'Man of the House' was still in charge of discipline, what he said, went. London had watched confused, and honestly baffled while her friend could only stare at her, beet red, and weeping. 

Soon thereafter, Rebekah had stripped herself down to her underwear, a pretty matched pair of lavender lace bra, and panties. London watched aghast as her lovely brown haired college roommate stoically marched across the yard, all swaying country girl curves, and knolls, scantily concealed underneath skimpy pastel lingerie. 

Buck followed his nineteen year-old little sister as she walked, barefoot toward the barn, one of a couple located on the farm. Though none of the family bothered to explain, London deduced her friend was going out there to get a dose of corporeal punishment, ...

The Singaporean, Girl: A Spanking Short

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New neighbors move into Redwood Apartments, beautiful Bo Yang, and her strict mother. Much to long time resident “Old Man” Calvin Summers pleasure, who gets an education in cultural differences upon striking up a close friendship with the two women.



Table of Contents

Part 1. New Neighbors

Part 2. Overheard…

Part 3. Bad Girl, Bo

Epilogue: Laundry Room Blues

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About The Author



Part 1. New Neighbors 
​

[Bo Yang, 22] 
The occupants of 7C moved in over the weekend, Saturday, twelve noon, on the dot. “Old Man” Calvin Summers, long time resident of Redwood Apartments, just arrived back home from sharing a round of drinks at his local VFW Hall with his buddies, met one of his new neighbors. “Here, let me help you with that, young lady.” Calvin said, and caught hold of the box that the pretty girl nearly dropped in her try to push open the apartment door, while balancing the unwieldy box.
The girl, Asian and undeniably gorgeous! Any man, in particular, an oldster like Calvin, couldn’t help but stop and take a good gander. Her long black hair fell straight down her back. She wore jeans, and a T-shirt, that hugged perky breasts. Never mind, her cheerful smile. That alone would have gotten Calvin’s attention.
“Thank you,” said the girl in faintly accented English.
“Hello,” said Calvin. “I’m Calvin Summers, looks as if we share a wall.”
Again, the girl grinned. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Summers –”
“Calvin’s OK, sweetheart.” Calvin insisted. “Or, well most people around here call me ‘Old Man’. Don’t know why exactly, there are older guys besides me, living in Redwood. Guess, I’m like everyone’s grand pappy. But please, stick with Calvin.”
The girl didn’t seem at ease, addressing Calvin, as anything but ‘Mr.’, however she introduced herself. “Hello.” Offered her hand. “I’m, Bo Yang…” In the next room, a voice called out in Chinese. “And that’s my Mom. She’s not so good at English. We’re working on it.” Bo promised. “We just came to the USA, from Singapore.”
Mrs. Yang appeared from out a bedroom, and spoke to her daughter in a rush of Chinese, Calvin couldn’t hope to understand, or keep up with. Bo made a few gestures, and explained Calvin was a neighbor, who’d assisted her with a box that she almost dropped. This seemed to satisfy Mrs. Yang, who warmly greeted Calvin, the best she could, without being able to thank him in English.
“Mom, says, ‘Thanks, for helping my clumsy daughter’.” Bo offered for Calvin’s sake, and tried not to roll her big brown eyes.
Having nothing more interesting to do, and honestly not really wanting to part company with the beautiful young woman, Calvin offered and stayed to lug more boxes up from Bo’s beat up, old powder blue Volkswagen van.
During a break between hefting boxes, Mrs. Yang made everyone tea.
Mrs. Yang, hadn’t been teasing, exactly, when she called Bo, ‘Clumsy’. On at least three occasions, the girl blundered over a box she’d haphazardly stacked. The third time, the contents spilled out onto an already cluttered floor.
One of the objects in the moving box, a three-foot, thick, crook handled piece of rattan. Bo quickly glanced to see if Mr. Summers noticed, he hadn’t seemed to. She scooped up the cane, along with a handful of her clothing, coats, mostly and shoved it all into her not yet arranged bedroom before anyone could see.
Tuesday evening, following the Yang’s move, Calvin brought a basket of his laundry to the communal laundromat, where he ran into, folding, and doing she and Mrs. Yang’s clothing, Bo, in the midst of sorting varied color, lacy underwear.
“Mr. Summers!” Bo greeted, sounding her typical buoyant self. “How was your day?” Without asking, took his basket and selected a machine, as if it were something she’d always done and tossed his laundry in, using her own soap, placed quarters in and started the washing cycle. “Mom’s glad to have had your help, move us in.” Bo explained. “We’ve nearly everything unboxed already.” Singsong-like. “Can you believe it?”
Calvin couldn’t get a word in. Instead, he enjoyed listening to Bo talk. He’d noticed the girl to be more hushed around her mother. Otherwise, Bo tended to chatter on nonstop. Which didn’t bother him in the least. Bo had a very pleasant, soothing feminine voice.
“Got a date?” Calvin wondered, when he bumped into Bo as he returned home, leaving her apartment dressed in a formfitting dress, which accentuated all Bo’s womanly bits. Bo, being somewhat tiny, however thanks to chunky shoes, gained a few inches. Calvin praised. “You’re very pretty, tonight.” Who was he kidding? Bo’d be pretty wearing anything. Often, she did wear casual clothes and always came off as stunning. “You’ll make him melt!”
Bo, who appeared as if she’d recently been crying, said. “No Mr. Summers.” Managed a bright smile. “I’m going to work.”
“Where’s that?”
“The Blue Moon Bistro.” Bo said. “I’m a hostess.”
“Must have just started, I take it?
“Second week.” Bo said demurely.
“Bo?” Calvin couldn’t shake the sense, Bo was upset. “Everything, alright?”
“Fine Mr. Summers.” Bo, timidly bit her lower lip. “Mom and I just had an argument. Nothing important.” Glancing at her phone, in that gorgeous singsong voice, exclaimed. “Got to go, bye! See you later!” ...

Tabby Cat, Gets Licked!: A Spanking Short

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Tabitha's no good, very bad week, concludes with her getting an extremely sore bum, thanks to a misunderstanding of Aunt Karla's rules. Tabitha thought her boyfriend cheating on her with a ditzy blonde had been the worst part of a miserable week. Tabitha's caned bum says differently.



Table of Contents

Part 1. Cat On The Prowl

Part 2. Smoking, Cat

Part 3. Tabby, Licked

Epilogue: Tipsy Kitten

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About The Author


Part 1. Cat On The Prowl 


[Tabitha Hunter, 20] 
Burgundy ringlets cascaded onto the bookstore’s carpet when she bent, in order to fix the buckle on her thick shoe. Tight black sheath skirt hugged, what could only be regarded as an apple bottom. Tabitha, ‘Tabby Cat’ to friends and family, got up, adjusted her wire rimmed glasses, and returned the book she held onto a nearby shelf.
Tabitha owned the body of a 1950s pin-up, extremely Bettie Page and she dressed the part for her job. Some misguided souls, might have labeled Tabitha ‘chubby’. If 5′ 5” and natural 34DD-24-37 were considered too big, Tabitha didn’t want to be small.
Guys didn’t seem to complain.
Of course, Tabitha really considered herself an ‘Alt-girl’ and it showed with her many piercings. Ears naturally, where she had three, currently filled with various hoops, lower lip, where a tiny platinum node glinted and nipples, just to be naughty.
What a week. It began with an epic break up with her boyfriend, which left Tabitha out on her ass, no place to stay. Luckily, Tabitha’s aunt, Karla, allowed her to quickly move in. So far, so good – Though, Aunt Karla could be sort of strict.
“Goodnight, Tabby.” Said Mr. Ryall, owner of the Notting Hill bookshop as they exited out onto the sidewalk, after closing for the day. “Any plans for the weekend?”
“Thought I might catch a movie before I go home… Back to my Aunts.”
“Enjoy yourself, and see you Monday.”
And so, Tabitha clacked down the street. A week ago, she’d have run home to her boyfriend, and surprised him with wild sex. But no more Jaks Marlow for Tabitha. His loss. Hey, Jaks was the bloody fool who cheated on her with that blonde bimbo.
Now. What to do with herself? Aunt Karla wouldn’t be home from work yet. Tabitha had an obscure memory of her Aunt remarking at the breakfast table this morning, not to be out all hours of the night. That she should be home, no later than midnight, or there would consequences. Wait! So now she had a curfew?
Tabitha thought, perhaps that required clarification. She was twenty, not thirteen!
“Hello, Aunt Karla?” Said Tabitha into her mobile, forced to leave a voice mail, because Karla didn’t answer. No doubt she was busy at the hotel. “I just wanted to touch base. Did you give me a curfew this morning? We need to discuss it.” Added, maybe a little bit snotty. “You are aware? I’m not a teenager anymore.”


Part 2. Smoking, Cat  


Rather early yet, when Tabitha departed from the movie theater. Treated herself to a tear inducing chick-flick. Heart wrenching romance, plus vampires, that didn’t shimmer in daylight! In fact, they were down right frightening, in a sullen sort of way.
Looking into her compact, Tabitha fixed her eye make-up.
Tabitha thought a pub for dinner would do her soul some good. Yes, some ale and pie! Better that than going back to her aunts, somewhat cramped and empty flat so early in the evening. Maybe she’d run into a friend?
A block from Aunt Karla’s flat, not far even from where Karla worked at a posh hotel in the front office, Tabitha got herself a booth, and ordered a pint of ale, as well as her favorite steak and mushroom pie. After she ate, Tabitha got dessert, butterscotch custard, and coffee.
Out on the street, she checked her watch, a tad past 11:30.
Supported by one of her black and red chunky heeled Mary-Janes, Tabitha leaned on a wall outside of the pub, and pulled out a pack of Dunhill cigarettes, lit up and puffed away. At long last, the weeks stress completely evaporated. …

Thrashing, Miss Padmore

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Mrs. Padmore tolerated her daughter's hedonist, stripper lifestyle, but even she has her breaking point. One drunken night too many and Shawna Padmore's Mum rung up the elderly family friend, Milton Hargrave for advice on how to deal with her disobedient daughter. Hargrave suggested a good old fashion thrashing, might do the little miss some good.



Table of Contents

Part 1. The Interview

Part 2. Burnt Buns

Part 3. Showing, Mum

Epilogue: Champagne Room, Shenanigans

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About The Author

Part 1. The Interview 

[Shawna Padmore, 26]  

“Do you know why you are here, Miss Padmore?” Milton Hargrave inquired of the anxious, comely young woman, who sat on his couch, arms resting at her sides, palms pressed low into the seat cushion, plates of auburn ringlets draped down over bare shoulders and back. Underneath her flimsy pastel pink halter-strap summer dress, bountiful cleavage, heaved up and down. One thickly shod foot, pearl painted toenails, wiggled. 

Wetting lush lips, Shawna Padmore responded. “To be beaten, Sir.” 

“Yes, my dear.” Agreed Hargrave. “But, why?” 

Shawna bent forward, reached for her cuppa tea on the coffee table. A movement that caused her tits to crush together. Given she wasn’t wearing a bra, as it would have clashed with this particular sundress, the sight proved most spectacular. 

Also, a delaying tactic, so Shawna didn’t have to directly answer Milton Hargrave’s question. Sarcastic, she thought to herself: Because you, ‘Mr. Hargrave’, persuaded Mummy, that I needed a good hiding. That’s why! Oh, and likely so you could get a free eyeful of my booty, without handing over any quid for the honor. She really wanted to say exactly that. And honestly, it almost did pour out from Shawna’s Revlon, ‘Stormy Pink’ glossed lips. 

Instead. 

“Chores.” Shawna mumbled. 

“What’s that, girl?” Hargrave prompted. “Speak up.” 

“Neglecting housework, not tidying my room.” Indeed, Shawna’s bedroom remained quite consistently a jumble of suitcases brim full of clothes, shoes, lingerie. Seasonal wardrobes fit for the Queen. Sundry gifts and baubles she’d managed to coax out of clients, also took up each and every corner. Guys enjoyed giving her stuff, mostly sex toys. 

A veritable wreck. 

“Is that it?” Milton Hargrave wagged his finger. “I happen to be aware, there’s more to it, than the calamity that is your bedchamber, Miss Padmore.” 

Shawna sighed, and rolled big blue eyes. Biting her lower lip, twiddling an auburn strand between meticulous manicured nails, she said. “Attitude.” 

Milton Hargrave thought: Now, we’re getting someplace. “Yes Miss Padmore, indeed that’s true. Your Mum tells me, you’ve blatant disregard for her rules.” Pointed out. “You’d not be here, if for a moment, you thought you could afford to live on your own. Yet your Mum’s ultimatum: Shape up, take your thrashing, or get out of her house, didn’t give you many options.” 

Working as a stripper under the name Serenity, at Foxxx’N the Hen House Gentleman’s Club, Shawna Padmore realized she’d never be able to afford living on her own. Bloody economy! As it occurred, Mum’s rent was keen — FREE. Never mind, Shawna locked horns with her Mum ever since she hit 18. Sure, Mum tolerated Shawna’s lifestyle, to a degree. Apparently however, Mum did have her breaking point. This is why Shawna currently sat here, sipping Earl Grey, musing on her imminent thrashing, at the hands of this elderly gentlemen, neighbor. 

Severely, Milton Hargrave regarded Shawna. “Tell me, Miss Padmore, exactly what brought your Mum to ring me up, and ask for my opinions on handling disobedient daughters?” 

Sure were quick to suggest a caning. Snootily thought Shawna. On occasion, she’d noticed Milton Hargrave ogling her bum. Dirty old man. She was rather familiar with his type. “Fine Milton.” Misplaced the expected ‘Mr. Hargrave’ he’d insisted upon at the outset of this interview. A friend who was practically family. A reality Shawna concluded, which made Hargrave’s resolution permissible to her Mum, who lacked fortitude to administer his recommended thrashing. “I got home, sloshed, a guy on my arm. We shagged, unleashed all sorts of shenanigans.” From what she remembered, it had been a nice roll in the hay. Explained, unable to keep the aforementioned catty attitude out of her tone. “Mummy’s rules forbid blokes in my room.” 

Milton Hargrave nodded, satisfied. Not so much however as he soon would be. Giving this little vamp her long overdue, royally pain of a rump, a thorough spanking should prove a delight. “Are you quite prepared to be thrashed, Miss Padmore?” 

Shawna got up. Gracefully, over womanly contours, her clingy pink sundress hugged the exotic dancer’s lissome, curvaceous frame. 6-inch, stripper Pleaser shoes, finest cold hard cash could purchase, clanked on stained hardwood, when Shawna made a show of obstinately stomping her exquisite foot. Best bitchy delivery. “I suppose.”…

Blue Knickers: A Spanking Short

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Alicia Buckingham neglects her babysitting duties to go club with her friends. Soon after, and well past her curfew, she gets an irate call from her mum demanding she return home to face the music. Though Alicia dreads it, she knows she must return home to face the cane!


Table of Contents

Part 1. Dance The Night Away

Part 2. Car Trouble

Part 3. Peel'm Off

Also By...

About The Author




Part 1. Dance The Night Away
​
[Alicia Buckingham, Age: 19]
The mobile thrummed away in her purse, yet Alicia ignored it, being that she was much too busy chatting up a delicious stud of a guy. Little did she notice it had already gotten to be fifteen minutes past her eleven o’clock weekday curfew.
Instead the brunette, her full breasts taut, buxom beneath a snug, black long sleeved top, cut in such a way as to reveal just the correct amount of cleavage, pushed against the boy, who cupped one of her nicely contoured, denim concealed buttocks.
Alicia whispered into the boys ear, and walked with him, hand-in-hand onto the dance floor, her spike heeled boots, clacked with each stride of her long legs. Naughtily, Alicia was quite conscious of the fact that her powder blue knickers waistband peeped out from under the fitted jeans while she writhed on the dance floor to the pounding music’s steady beat. Her guy even gave the elastic a teasing snap.
The song came to an end, and Alicia moved back toward the table, where she could no longer disregard the sound of her shrill, ringing mobile phone, which almost caused her small purse to pulsate off the tabletop. Seeing the digits, Alicia gasped, and quickly took the call. “Mum…” The response from her irate mother made it rather clear to Alicia she was in trouble. “Yes I’m sorry I’m late.” Lateness however wasn’t Alicia’s mum’s only concern. “Oh my God!” Said Alicia after her mum explained why she’d been calling all night. “I completely forgot. Mrs., and Mr. Ashdown aren’t too upset are they?” Like that matted, given her mum seemed downright outraged, a fact which would end up costing Alicia a great deal of soreness.
Alicia gazed around the club, bit her lower lip, anxious, when she noticed everyone had begun to listen in on the discussion, as her mum frothed at her from over the phone. “I’m sorry –” She pleaded, almost tearing up. “OK Mum, I’ll be home! No come on…” Implored the distraught girl. “Please don’t do that…” Alicia flushed, the delicious guy who only moments before she had been rubbing against on the dance floor overheard a good amount of what her mother planned for her at home. “Alright – I know.” Stomping her heeled boot she said. “Whatever, I was going to get caned for being late anyhow.” And with that she hung up, grabbed her stuff to leave the club. Things were already bad enough, no sense being even more late for her engagement with the cane.
Part 2. Car Trouble
Alicia slammed her fist down on the steering wheel, huffed, let out a low whimper as she pulled the sputtering blue Vauxhall Astra off the road. “Bloody hell!” She screamed. Outside rain cascaded off the Astra’s windshield, which served only to add more to her dreary mood.
Of course, right at that moment, her mobile went off. “FUCK!”…