Kate Francis had been driving for hours and the short cut was beginning to look like an extensive detour. Why was driving America always such fun in the movies, she thought as she looked down at the air-con; is that thing even working? She tapped at it angrily, taking her eyes from the road.

She looked up just in time to see the sparsely wooded yellow-grass verge coming towards her and she quickly levelled off.

A bead of sweat rolled down her lightly tanned frown-crinkled forehead into her polished brown eye and she swiped at the sting in irritation. Her once pressed white business blouse was sticking to her now, and she could feel a nasty trickle down her butt crack under her smart pants.

She shot glance at the driving mirror and saw that although her dark mascara was holding up well, her formerly neatly tied back hair was becoming frayed so that even the dark brown ends frizzed almost silver where they caught the light.

Then a scream of a horn on the bend dragged her attention back to the road and she narrowly missed an oncoming pick-up.

“Jerk-off,” she screamed at the driver as his vehicle retreated in her mirror.

She was still glowering at it as she crossed the county line and almost missed the sign that announced Cade County, established 1828.

“Where the goddam fuck is this?” she cursed and reached, half looking, for her route map.

As she did so her sunglasses, which up to then had been perched on top of her head, tumbled and she made a clumsy grab at them. This time the car was less forgiving of her inattention and she slewed at the corner and found the ditch; taking down a hazard sign in the process.

*

As far as Kate could tell she was unhurt, but the same could not be said for the car. She was still cursing her luck when a loud shrill hoot made her start. She whirled around to see a white Plymouth cruiser slow to a stop behind and the words Cade Count Sheriff’s Department embossed in Black and Gold on the hood and down the doors.

The severe looking hard-faced 30-something woman at the wheel looked pissed. But it was the small confederate flag incorporated into the police badge on the door that raised her hackles. This was the last thing she needed: a female red-neck small town cop.

At almost five-eight, the dark-blonde deputy was half a head taller than Kate. Her beige uniform with piping was immaculate, an image topped off by mirror shades and white badged-sheriff’s hat. She looked in good shape and might have been half pretty if she hadn’t been a cop.

“You alright there ma’am?” the woman drawled.

Here we go, Kate sighed, rolling her eyes up.

*

Terri Vaughn first saw the Mustang as it swerved at the bend. The reckless road position, at just on the speed limit, made her palm itch and set her teeth on edge. With kids you could never cut any slack. Fifteen years in the Cade County Sherriff’s Department had taught her that much.

Then she saw that it was a woman driver with New York plates. She looked respectable enough and had probably been on the road for hours. Well if she was just passing through then Terri didn’t need to make it her problem.

Then the driver seemed to duck down behind the wheel as if reaching for something and the car began to slide. It peeved her to think that some poor fool was about to become road kill and all she could think of was the accident reports she would have to deal with. I’m such a bitch, she berated herself. But the truth was, she hated paperwork like some folks hated cockroaches or warm beer.

But before she could even call it in or even get alongside the ditch-laden wreck, the woman driver got out and dusted herself off. Thank the heavens for passing mercies, Terri thought, she really hated paperwork.

As she pulled up she announced herself with a burst of siren and began to appraise situation. The woman looked like city folks from up north, which tallied with the plates. Her clothes were good, if a little unsuited to the Tennessee summer and she was wearing the lower half of an expensive looking pants suit with a blouse that looked like nothing in store back in town.

So long as the damn fool wasn’t drunk then this was a small write up and a ‘let’s be on your way,’ Terri hoped.

“You alright there ma’am?” she called over.

At once the woman stiffened and rolled her eyes like a teenager Terri was more used to dealing with in these situations. She looked around 30 and fairly pretty, if you got past the ‘important business’ image.

“I’m just fine and dandy,” the woman spat back, “Just look at this fucking thing.”

Terri frowned at this. The sneered sarcasm was perhaps excusable, but Terri had been brought up to believe that people, especially women, did not curse like that. Darn it, if she had spoken the f-word in front of her ex, let alone her folks, even at 30, she would have been invited to the woodshed, Cade County deputy or no.

“Maybe if you had taken a little more care at the bend then this might have been avoided,” Terri suggested.

“Maybe fuck,” the woman cursed again, “Maybe if these goddam roads and signage weren’t so far up hicksville’s ass then I would have seen the curve in the road.”

Terri’s jaw tightened. The woman was in shock, but all the same…

“I assure you ma’am, the signs meet state requirements and the road is perfectly maintained for the correct speed,” Terri said in a hard neutral voice.

“You saying I’m speeding now,” the woman spat angrily, “Oh that’s just typical of small minded America. Okay, okay, I get it, how much is this going to cost me?”

Terri froze and the native tick at her right eye, the one that she got whenever she had to supress annoyance, moved into her sinuses. Everyone knew that Terri Vaughn wasn’t above cutting through the bull when the need arose. There were ways and means for keeping the mayor’s daughters’ records clean without resorting to paperwork. But she never took a bribe, not even in kind. If anyone did make with the generous to make a problem go away, then there had to be a public benefit and all cash went to local charity.

The woman reached into the car for her purse.

“Ma’am,” Terri said icily, “I can point you at a mechanic and a decent hotel, but can I strongly suggest…”

“Oh I bet you can,” the woman sneered, “Some of your cousins no doubt. What? You get a slice of the action do you?”

*

“I’m just fine and dandy,” Kate said irritably. I am not dead, if that’s what you mean; she thought, and then muttered under her breath “Just look at this fucking thing.”

“Maybe if you had taken a little more care at the bend then this might have been avoided,” the woman said, but there was more than a supressed criticism in her tone.

“Maybe fuck,” Kate groaned, irritated at having the obvious stated. But the way she remembered it the bend had come at her from nowhere, as if someone wanted her to have a crash, so she muttered angrily, “Maybe if these goddam roads and signage weren’t so far up hicksville’s ass then I would have seen the curve in the road.”

Maybe the hick crack was too much, she immediately regretted, but for fuck’s sake, she didn’t need this.

The deputy said something officious, but Kate wasn’t really listening, but then she heard, “correct speed,” as if it had some significance.

Here we go, I might have known there would be a shake down, Kate groaned inwardly. Maybe she could smooth things over with a contribution. But she couldn’t help being annoyed.

“You saying I’m speeding now,” she snapped angrily, “Oh that’s just typical of small minded America. Okay, okay, I get it, how much is this going to cost me?”

Kate could have sworn the woman had smiled like a cat with a mouse as she suggested that she could set her up with a mechanic and a hotel. Just how long did the damn cop think she was going to stay in this dump anyway?

“Oh I bet you can,” she groaned, unaware that she spoke her next thoughts aloud.

“You know what ma’am,” the cop bristled, “Reckless driving, damage to county property, attempting to bribe an officer of the law… I am going to have to run you in until we clear this up.”

As she spoke she pulled the cuffs from her belt and turned Kate about so that she was facing the wreck of her car.

“Wh-what the fuck?” she gasped.

The handcuffs pinched a little as they clicked into place and then like a bad movie she heard her rights calmly and clearly in her ear.

*

Cade County Sheriff’s office was a small red brick building that had been built back in 1929 to replace the old one deemed too small for the needs of the 20^th century. It had a front communal area with two desks and two interior doors. One leading to the sheriff’s own office and the other to a short corridor to the rest room, off which were three large cell cages.

All the way there Kate had sworn at the stone face cop announcing that she was a freeborn American and that they had no idea who they were messing with.

None of this had made the least impact on Terri, and Kate had been thrown in cell nearest the door still wearing the cuffs and abandoned there to sit on a rough stained mattress on one of the two iron bunks.

“You can’t do this to me,” she screamed.

Terri, who had been about to walk out into the front office, paused at these words and made a slow turn before peering sternly over the rims of her mirror shades to drawl, “Oh yes I can.”

She waited a moment to let the words sink in and then she was gone leaving Kate to the afternoon heat.

*

The sun was orange red and slanting through the small cell window before Kate heard the least sound from the outer room. By then she was cursing the name of Cade County and her arms ached. Even then it was a while before the door opened and Terri returned carrying an old battered chair and unlocked the cage door.

Setting the chair down in the middle of the cell, the deputy dropped down astride facing backwards to regard Kate with a hard stare.

“You calmed down yet?” Terri asked conversationally.

Kate sucked in her cheeks and glowered back without answering.

“I see,” Terri sighed.

“You can’t keep me here,” Kate said sullenly.

“I certainly can’t,” Terri agreed, “The sheriff’s gone fishing and we only have one other deputy. We just don’t have the facilities.”

Kate was about to speak when Terri made tut-tut with her mouth and sternly wagged her finger.

“You see the thing is ma’am, my only recourse is to run you up to the county jail,” Terri explained, “It is an old-fashioned kind of place that dates back to the ‘30s when we last got any investment in law enforcement around here. The women’s wing is…” here she made a pensive hissing sound, “well frankly, it’s kind of brutal ma’am. You bad-mouth anyone half as bad as you have been shooting off at me, well then…” she paused, adding as an aside, “You ever felt a prison strap on that prissy little bee-hind of yours?”

Kate gaped. It was like Badham County, she just knew it.

“Now the only way I can get them to take you is by writing up all the charges and if I do that then all that paperwork will take quite a spell; we’re just not set up for it you see. Then it has to go to the judge. It will take at least a week to get a hearing date and make arrangements for you to see a lawyer…”

“A week,” Kate gasped in a shrill voice.

“At least ma’am, now even if I can’t make the bribery charges stick, well I reckon you’ll get 30-60 days with a fine,” Terri told the by now disconcerted Kate.

“You-you just can’t… I mean I was only…” Kate wailed.

“Well I tried to help you, tried to be reasonable, what choice did you give me?” Terri said calmly.

“I didn’t mean…”

“Besides, you got a mouth on you like a drunken sailor. If I had spoken to anyone like that, let alone the law, then I would have felt a razor strop and more across my bee-hind. Now if you were just one of the local girls then that’s how we would handle it,” Terri said with regret.

Kate licked her lips and went ashen.

“I had a job interview, just a job, you get me. I didn’t even call them. I’ll miss it now… oh shit.” Kate seemed to be talking to herself, trying to establish some normality.

“Ma’am, you have a potty mouth don’t you. If the sheriff was here it’s a cinch he would have put you across his knee by now and you would have been down at the motel feeling sorry for yourself instead of languishing here,” Terri sighed.

“I’m so sorry; please can’t you just let me go?” Kate pleaded.

“You want it handed the local way?” It was Terri’s turn to gape.

“You can’t put me in jail, you just can’t,” Kate said miserably.

Terri looked significantly about her at the cage.

Suddenly Kate stood up and angrily shouted, “Fuck you, I’m going,” before making a break for the open door.

With her hands still cuffed behind her back and Terri less than six feet away, she didn’t get far.

“You know, I tired of this 30 going on 15 attitude of yours,” the deputy drawled, “I am tired of your filthy mouth and I am tired of your snatching every olive branch I have tossed your way and breaking into little pieces. Are all of you Yankees so pig-headedly dumb?”

Kate got as far as the door to the outer office before she could get no further and kicked at it in bitter frustration.

“You know, you’re not the first kid to try that,” Terri sighed, “I remember a young lady who was busted for drink-driving. She had less of a potty mouth than you do, but twice the attitude. Old Sheriff Miller yanked down my shorts and blistered my bare bottom good for that stunt. Nothing to what my folks did, mind you…”

Kate broke off from her assault on the door and took a fresh look at her captor.

“Let me put some perspective on that for you,” Terri said wearily, “Then if you want to make out a complaints slip I’ll get you one. The judge files them under T for trash anyway, but you could always complain to the state authorities. There is always a do-gooder there happy to pander to the liberals.”

Kate was still mulling over Terri’s revelation when she was taken by the arm and led back to the cell. Then she was lost in wide-eyed confusion as the deputy sat down in the chair and tipped at the hapless traffic offender across her lap. Kate’s bottom ballooned big and full at the seat, and Terri nodded in appreciation.

“In Cade County we take these down,” Terri drawled as she efficiently worked the hook and button on Kate’s pants and eased them down her thighs.

Kate wriggled in surprise, but with her hands still cuffed she couldn’t resist. Instead she began to buck somewhat until her breath became laboured in the evening heat.

“These too,” Terri said casually as she hooked her thumb into Kate’s panties and slipped them down over her bare bottom to meet her pants around her knees.

“This… this is… oh my God,” Kate muttered frantically.

“Now ma’am I am going to give you the spanking of your life. No doubt one that you have been needing for a very long time,” Terri said sharply as she let her palm swing down like a paddle.

The crisp smack twanged back off the bare cell walls and left a clear red hand mark on Kate’s right cheek; one that was quickly matched on the left. In a very few minutes two or three dozen spanks had landed and the now mewling woman had a bottom the colour of sunset and was panting like a fat man walking up hill in summer.

Ordinarily, it would have counted as an efficient spanking; one worthy of the law. But even after five minutes Terri showed no sign of bringing it to a close and continued to spank with a will.

“Okay, yah, I get it,” Kate wailed, her voice wavering as tears mixed with her sweaty face.

In fact both women were perspiring hard in the oppressive cage, the only difference being that Terri was used to it.

“I guess you are beginning to get the idea now ma’am,” Terri drawled.

“Yes Ma’am,” Kate barked out with a snap, blinking hard.

“Do you always curse at people when they offer you help?” Terri said sharply.

“No Ma’am,” Kate gasped. But inside she knew that she probably did more often than not.

“Well I’m helping you now ain’t I?” Terri said pointedly with a volley of spanks.

“Yes Ma’am,” Kate agreed in a wail that ended in a sniff.

“Am I going to get any more trouble form you?” Terri asked, landing another swat.

“No Ma’am,” Kate answered miserably, now on the edge of open sobbing.

“Then I think you are about done for now,” Terri said, setting the girl on her feet.

The still handcuffed Kate, unable to grab her behind for a rub, danced up and down with a face inscribed with woe.

“Now you have a choice,” Terri sighed. “I can go get that complaint form for you if you want it, and write you up for the judge. Don’t worry; I’ll drop the bribery charges. You’ll only do 30 days with time served or pay the fine I expect. Or I can go and get the sheriff’s paddle from his office and we can settle this here and now.”

“But I thought…” Kate gaped, tears now escaping from her eyes.

“That was truly nothing. Just a little something from me to get your attention,” Terri said dismissively and shrugged.

“If I take the…” Kate swallowed, “The paddle, are we really done?”

Terri gave an emphatic friendly nod and almost smiled.

Five minutes later she returned with a rubberised leather paddle near three feet long with a striking head twice the size of a man’s hand. It was black with holes large enough to put a man’s thumb through. Kate counted 12.

“This is the county attitude adjuster,” Terri said proudly, “Ain’t it a doozey? Felt myself more than once.”

Kate gulped.

“You still up for it?” Terri asked.

Kate took a deep breath and answered with a tiny nod.

“Good for you,” Terri said brightly. “Turn around.”

Hesitantly Kate obeyed and felt her cuffs being released.

“Pull your pants up ma’am, I have a spare room back at my place, ‘less you want me to call the motel? Your car will be fixed in three days, I already called them, but I can get a renter by the end of tomorrow,” Terri said as she nonchalantly rested the paddle on her shoulder like a National Guardsman.

“But I thought…?”

“Nah, you learned your lesson, I guess you showed willing and now we have an understanding,” the deputy answered with a grin.

Kate let go with a heavy sigh, but strangely she felt a slight pang of disappointment.

“You want the renter ma’am?” Terri asked.

Kate shook her head. “It’ll be too late,” she shrugged.

“Sorry about that ma’am, but I got you a deal at the mechanics, he’s my cousin,” she winked. “And you’re welcome at my place until it’s fixed, with no rent. Save you some I guess.”

Kate brightened. “It’s Kate. Kind of silly you ma’am-ing me; not under the… eh, circumstances. And I’ll be happy with your offer of a room.”

“I suppose so. I am Terri by the way,” Terri chuckled. “There’s a diner down the street, I’ll join you there with your bag as soon as Billy-Joe comes in to relieve me. Shouldn’t be long now.”

Kate nodded shyly. Then at the door and finally her freedom she whispered, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome ma’am, I mean Kate.”

Kate nodded again as she unconsciously grabbed at her behind.

“Oh Kate,” Terri said, her gaze following Kate’s hands, “Remember now, no cussing, or you and me might have to have more words.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Kate gasped, but she was blushing.

No not a new feature, but I just saw this presumably perfectly innocent vanilla news picture on a non-spanking Tumblr. It was no doubt culled from a serious report about the prison system and the use of body scanners.

Then beyond the obvious prominent feature of the shot I noticed the guard was wearing a certain type of glove. And people ask where I get my ideas from.

Been having some Internet outage, plus a bit of real life to contend with, hence no post on Saturday and a rather (at the moment) thin week coming up, which I hope to address.

But not every has been so unproductive. Blossom and Thorn have launched In With the New, with a list of new spanking blogs with acknowledgments to Bonnie. Also Hermione, as promised, has published her own list (now the official Bonnie list) of new spanking blogs. So get reading.

In another feature, the Chicago Spanking Review has launched Romantic Spanking Month for February.

Also Scarlet’s Real Magic is causing another stir. Amongst the other excellent content, she has recently published a series of spanking haikus by the poet Peony. One of which was republished by Dom with Pen, prompting a tribute haiku for him. Do you think A Voice in the Corner will get one now?

Acknowledging Imperfection has also been giving it large with the stories, including a sweet short associated with the picture above.

Another excellent post this week on the Spank Statement following up on the hot cockles game. It seems this spanking sport made it into art along with several other punitive pictures.

Other pictures this week are from: Able, AAA, Plector and Spanking Starlets.

The Semester of Standing for Supper is the latest DJ Black story published by LSF publishing. You can buy it here.

It is 1971, and Hilary, a fourth-year student in her final year of a course in English and History, is following in the footsteps of her Aunt Clarisse who graduated in 1965. Clyburn is a New England women’s college with a proud tradition of firm discipline dating back to 1879.

However, Hilary’s grades have been slipping and her recent class attendance has been sub par. Her tutor, Professor John Harmon, takes her to task when they next meet in his office, indicating his disappointment with two rounds of his infamous wooden paddle, topped off with the cane. Hilary is aware that if she does not straighten up, he may sentence her to a far more humiliating ordeal.

Debagging, is a quaint term for what amounts to a very public correction. A punishment that involves spending the entire week with her bottom uncovered. Such is life at Clyburn, an establishment in which so many butts are blistered and their owners remain standing for supper.

The big fat F was written in red and Cassie felt sick. Her last paper had been a D, her third that semester, and she had been sure that even in the worst case scenario she would have scraped an E minus at minimum. Okay that wasn’t exactly great, but her grade average was still above a B, or had been before this damn F and she still had time to raise her game, didn’t she?

The problem with an F is that it automatically generated a letter home to her folks and she would have to contend with concern and even a berating from that quarter.

“Darn it,” she sighed dropping onto her bed and blowing her wayward copper fringe out of her eyes.

The girl in the make-up mirror wore an expression she hadn’t seen since her teens. It was a look Cassie had developed for herself after years of practice. Now that bygone face stared back at her for a moment; the almost metallic green eyes lapsing into a stare of practiced hard-done-by injustice, which was complimented by that old sullen pout. Then Cassie shook her head and focussed on the fact that she was now near 22 and a woman.

Back in her first year in college an F had gotten her a resurrection of some old family customs and she actually felt oddly queasy as her buttocks clenched. Getting a spanking at home during Thanksgiving had been a shock. The bottom blistering she had gotten in her dorm room had been downright mortifying.

Finally her folks had engaged the services of Mark Tillman, an old friend from mom’s home town who worked as a professional educationalist and mentor. He had been more used to delinquents and Bible Belt brats gone off the rails, but for the French family he had made an exception.

An early rebellion from Cassie had triggered a spanking from him that had set the agenda for the rest of her freshman year. Even now she blushed at the embarrassment and intensity of some of their encounters. Thank God she was too old for all that now and it had been a year since she had needed him and more than two since he had last spanked her. Well, she guessed she had deserved it; after all she had only been a kid back then.

Cassie picked up the letter and began to rehearse excuses in her mind. Maybe if she got a B minus on her next paper she could… then she saw the date on the letter. It was over a week old.

“Shit,” she exclaimed aloud.

She had been off partying during the long weekend and must have forgotten to check her mail before she set-off. So why hadn’t her mom or dad phoned?

“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered as she frantically gathered up some books and prepared to hit the library.

Then she remembered she had to meet Jones and the others down at Fandangos and sighed. It took her almost 10 seconds to decide that tomorrow would be soon enough for study.

“Why did you have to be an F?” she cursed the note that now lay discarded on her bed.

*

The next morning her head didn’t hurt much at all and she worked her mouth as her eyes stole a look from her slumber at a blurred bedside clock. Despite the lack of pain something was drumming in her head and she sat up. No, not her head, it was the door to her room.

“Hold up,” she called and swung her legs from under the duvet.

Looking down she saw that she had one sock on and one half off, neither matching, and although she had gotten as far as putting on a short sleep-shirt, the lower half was still in a tangle on the floor and she was still wearing her panties.

The door hammered again firmly and Cassie yawned.

“Wait can’t you? I’m coming,” she growled at the unwelcome visitor.

She could see now that it was almost 11 and for a moment she wondered if she had missed something. But a glance at the calendar showed a reading day or as she and her fellow student’s called it, a free.

The shirt just covered her panties so with another yawn she staggered to the door and opened it.

The man outside was a head taller than she was and wore a medium dark brown leather jacket, like one a pilot might wear. Under that he wore a check shirt that reminded Cassie of her rural home and for some reason she first checked out the shoes to see if work boots completed the picture. They didn’t.

Instead she saw strangely familiar academic brogues under dark green denim pants. So when she looked up she wasn’t surprised to see a tinning mop of well-cropped curly salt-n-pepper hair and steel grey eyes regarding her with a look positioned somewhere between disappointment and disdain.

“Mr Tillman,” Cassie said in nervous surprise.

“Your folks called me,” Mark Tillman said in a stern baritone voice.

“Oh… eh… yah, I meant to call them,” she replied, belatedly raking her hair with her fingers and tugging at the hem of her shirt in front.

“Is that a fact?” Tillman drawled easing his way passed his former charge and taking in the room behind her.

“I haven’t had a chance to… ah… clear up,” she muttered, her voice trailing away as his eyes fell upon an empty vodka bottle.

Then as she watched he crossed the room and ran a finger along her unopened laptop and inspected the dust he had collected on his fingertip.

“I was… eh… away for the weekend…” she explained.

“It’s Wednesday,” he replied bluntly.

“Yeah, I… eh sort of got back yesterday afternoon,” Cassie told him with a growing sense of unease.

“I dropped off at the faculty building on my way over,” Tillman said casually. “I still have that letter from your parents countersigned by you, remember?”

Cassie nodded dumbly. She did and blushed as she remembered the circumstance in which she had signed it.

“So how are your grades going would you say?” Tillman asked suddenly rounding on her with that old-fashioned demeanour of his.

“Not too bad I guess. I have a B average…” she said more brightly than she felt.

“Try D plus,” he shot back, “As for the rest…”

“Well it’s nice of you to look in on me but…” Cassie began.

“You firing me?” Tillman growled, “Is that what I have to call your folks to say?”

Cassie gulped.

“No I… that is…” she felt the heat rise as the floor seemed to sag.

It was embarrassing to be back where she was last year then she saw that Tillman was staring at the hairbrush on her make-up table.

“I think it is time I reacquainted you with the basics again, don’t you?” he drawled.

*

The moment she had seen Mark Tillman Cassie had expected a scolding and even a crackdown on her behaviour. After all, even she knew things were out of hand and that she was in veritable freefall. The realisation was embarrassment enough. But the moment Tillman picked up the hairbrush and patted against his hand she knew what ‘reacquainted with the basics’ meant.

“Come on,” she wailed as she took a step backwards. “You can’t possibly… I mean…”

Tillman ignored Cassie’s peony gaping and said, “No roommate these days I see, that makes things rather easier doesn’t it?”

“But you can’t… I’m… I’m over 21,” she said miserably, her thoughts a cascade of denial.

“Then it is time you started behaving like it, isn’t it?” Tillman said sharply. “Do you remember what I told you last time?”

Cassie’s eyes dashed back and forth in her head as if her mind were racing ahead for an answer to her fate.

“I was just a kid back then, 19 and… and…” Cassie protested.

“You were 20 I think and I seem to remember a certain promise, in writing yet,” Tillman said calmly as he reached out for her to take his hand.

Cassie gulped as her head dizzied with hot blood that throbbed at her cheeks until it reached her ears. She remembered what ‘in writing yet’ meant. She had written out 500 times the convoluted legend, ‘reckless lazy brats are never too old to be spanked, is a sentiment I share.’

She had signed off on every page and the thick bundle had spent the rest of the semester pinned to her peg board. It had been a bitch to obscure with other notes and a dried flower, but she had dared not remove it on pain of a spanking. She was damn sure her then roomie Marlene had seen and read it. She had prayed for months that no one else had.

“Were you lying when you thanked me for my efforts and signed off on that rather tedious exercise?” Tillman asked.

“No Sir,” Cassie said quickly, “But…”

Tillman was still extending an arm out to her and this time she meekly took a step towards him and allowed him to tumble her across his knee. With the curve of her pantie-clad bottom in his lap she suddenly remembered something.

“The door, please, I didn’t lock it,” she gasped.

“Who would be so rude as to burst in unannounced?” he told her sternly, “Not everyone is as badly behaved as you are.”

With these words he drew her panties down her thighs and lined up the flat of the brush.

Oh my God, she thought, as wild thoughts whirled through her mind. This is…

“I do hope you still have that paddle I bought you.” His words broke into her thoughts.

She had once been required to hang it on the wall in plain sight.

“It is just an old sorority paddle,” she had had to say more often than she cared to, before praying that no one asked which sorority she belonged to. Only her roommate studiously ignored it. A sure sign that she knew exactly what it was for.

Her mind raced now as she struggled to remember where she had put it. But she hadn’t forgotten what he had said he would do if she lost it. Luckily, in her position her nose was just inches from the carpet and she spied the beastly thing under the bed and hastily told him.

“It goes back on the wall as soon as we’re done and next time you’ll feel it,” he told her sharply.

“Yes Sir,” she agreed, her voice edged in panic.

The hairbrush swept down and landed squarely on her sit-spots. It was far worse than she remembered, but she was still more concerned about the embarrassment just then. The harsh crack rang back off the cheap thin walls and as the next landed it was a cert that her neighbours either side would be in no doubt as to the origins of the sound. She only prayed that they were out.

“Oh-yah,” she gasped at the third and thereafter she had to bark out in distress at each spank as the shame of it quickly made way for the burn.

The spanking quickly became a continuous blast of heat and sound until Cassie was kicking and bawling as much as she ever had.

“Mommy he spanked me,” she had told her mother over the phone after the first time, “Right on my bare bottom.”

“Good,” had come the reply, “I don’t care if he spanked you in front of all your friends or in that nasty diner of yours. You’ve been far too big for your boots young lady.”

It had been foolish to complain, she knew that even before she had. After all as her mom went on to point out, she had agreed to in writing when Mark Tillman had become her mentor. Originally it had been preferable to the hot homecoming alternative and besides, until it had happened she had never believed that it really would.

At least with Mark, there had been decidedly less public embarrassment than at home and the worst he had even threatened her with was corner time outside her room in the corridor. After a while, and as she saw and embraced the improvement in her grades and life in general, she had come to prefer Tillman’s guidance to the old-fashioned welcome she had to contend with at the end of each semester.

All this ran through her mind as she bawled, bucked and danced across Tillman’s knee until she was thoroughly sorry. Even so the hairbrush blazed its painful tracks across her bare bottom for a good 10 minutes before he finally let up. By which time she was lost in hearty sobs and felt as if her tail end was fit to melt.

“You know I’ll give you more than this don’t you?” Tillman drawled.

“Yes Sir,” she wailed.

She had dropped to a crouch at his feet now and was claw-rubbing at her bottom as pulling off fire-wasps. Even from the corners of her eyes, which she dared not take from Tillman, she could see her bottom curves were a deep strawberry red as if she had sat in gloss finish paint.

“Next time I come around and you’re in this state. Next time I hear you dropped a grade to anything less than a B, and if you’re not a B plus grade average at the end of the semester, there will be hell to pay. Frankly you are a straight A student, and I won’t be off your case until you show me that.” Tillman was speaking low and tight, with a velvet-glove menace.

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed.

“Now since you don’t want to work, you can go stand in the corner for an hour or two while I assess the damage and make certain arrangements to have your last three essays re-submitted,” he told her, nodding at the only relatively clear space in her room. “Then in your spare time you can write 1,000 times: I am a lazy reckless brat and I am not too old to have my bare bottom spanked. Now tell me the rest.”

Cassie had already got halfway to the wall when she stopped and gaped at him. Then seeing he wasn’t joking she swallowed and reluctantly whispered, “I have to sign every page and put it on my peg board.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“And hang the paddle back up,” she murmured.

He nodded and half smiled, saying, “Good girl. I’ll be phoning you every night to make sure you aren’t out. And I’ll be back on Saturday to check on all your progress.”

Cassie sighed and turned back to the wall and felt her heart sag. It was so embarrassing, she thought miserably, and the door still isn’t locked. But the chance to re-write her last few essays would put her on track and suddenly she wasn’t in freefall anymore.

“I don’t expect you’re off the hook with your folks yet,” he added as she clasped her hands in the small of her back just above her exposed red bottom. “They are desperately worried that you are returning to the bad old days.”

Cassie rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see them. It would take a year at least to get Mark Tillman off her… backside and she wouldn’t be surprised if he was called upon him to see her through her masters.

“I bet they are,” she said ruefully, “I just bet they are.”

Selfies (the trend for taking own photo with your camera phone) are quite the thing at the moment. An unattributed poll on a Fetlife group I follow suggested that 67% of women submissive spankos have tried self spanking at one time or another.

Shelia wrote:

Come on fess up girls, I know I did, more than once. My bath brush was best, but I had to stop because a roommate heard the noise and anyway it hurt too much.

Couple this with the camera phone and there could be a lot of candid pictures out there somewhere.

Well ‘old’ only in Internet terms. It has stood now for approaching five years and apart from the occasional sprucing up is as much as it was.

The other day I decided to revamp the sign post at the entrance and to my surprise went on to sell 40 books in one day. Now that doesn’t exactly mean I can give up the day job as much as I would like to increase productivity. But it does help with hosting, PC and software costs. So that is nice.

Not my point though.

The mini revamp made me wonder if most people even knew the bookshop was there. I know about once every six weeks I shameless plug a book, but that is much to do with fillers as anything. So I thought it was worth maybe posting on the entire bookshop.

Some of the stories can only be obtained by buying the book. The Russell Corner, first published in 2009 and now re-worked and on its second edition, is a comparative bestseller and can only be read if you buy it. For a first novel and an early example of my spanking work it has been surprisingly well-received. To me it seems clumsy and intense.

Also some of the short story collections contain stories that have never before been published. Other projects are in the pipeline.

So if you didn’t know, then do check out the Bookshop in the Corner or the LSF DJ Black shop, which offers slightly different titles in some regards.

Not a vintage Monday either. I am just on leave this week.

Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Four be the things I’d been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.

                                       ― Dorothy Parker

Jenny noticed that Claire was always happy. She always had the right clothes and everything always seemed to go her way. The same could not be said for Jenny however.

In college grades eluded Jenny and then a decent job until the only break from frequent unemployment was boring temp work in increasingly low pay.

The same might be said for Claire, Jenny supposed, not the pay part, not the boring part. But both had left college without prospects, only Claire seemed to make the most of it and get asked to stay where Jenny was let go.

“It is so unfair,” she moaned to Claire one day in college.

Jenny sat opposite her friend with a serious pout and positive glowered from under her blue-black fringe as she spoke.

Claire shrugged.

“Tom and Michelle always say that life is unfair and it is what you make of it,” Claire said dismissively.

That was another thing about Claire. She was always going on and on about Tom and Michelle. ‘Tom says this and Michelle said that,’ Jenny was given to miserably mouthing behind Claire’s back.

“Well if I had someone to look out for me then maybe I would get the breaks too,” Jenny said sullenly.

She remembered how Claire had got a great room in Tom and Michelle’s expansive house for practically no rent. Jenny’s people wouldn’t even spring for a sub.

“Well I have talked to them about you and they have often said they would be happy to help,” Claire replied breezily.

Jenny frowned and glared at Claire suspiciously as she sipped on her juice straw, not a golden blonde hair out of place. She barely knew Claire’s ‘adopted family’ and yet they knew all about her.

“Yeah so why do I only hear about this now?” Jenny said scornfully.

Claire shrugged again.

“I didn’t think you would go for it,” she said carefully, “They are old school and I have to fall in with their rules. Not your scene at all I thought.”

“Yeah, well maybe you thought wrong,” Jenny spat back and then folded her arms.

Both women were silent for a time and then Jenny tentatively asked, “What do you mean old school anyway?”

Claire sighed and put all her attention into her juice. But she could tell that Jenny was not going to drop it.

“You remember how I told you that during my teens and even after…” she began carefully.

“Oh you mean about home being strict and that you missed it when you got to college,” Jenny said enthusiastically.

She had always been intrigued by some of the things Claire had alluded to. She remembered on their first day in halls when Claire had lost some money. She had blurted “I am so going to get spanked for this.”

Claire had been a lot more scatty and disorganised in those days and Jenny remembered that losing things and being in the wrong place were not uncommon for her back then. The spanking comment had been typical of her. But she had always been embarrassed when pressed about it.

It hadn’t taken long for her to realise that other girls in hall weren’t spanked and she had shut up about it. That was until one drunken evening when she admitted that she missed the firm handling.

“But what has that got to do with Tom and Michelle?” Jenny continued.

Claire fixed her eyes on the juice glass and blushed.

“You don’t mean…?” Jenny gaped.

“I told you that you wouldn’t go for it,” Claire said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Yeah but… that’s your thing, not mine,” Jenny said eagerly, “I can play by rules sure, but… well you know. Maybe they could help me a bit. I mean just a room maybe and… well whatever it is they do that keeps you so… oh I don’t know. I just keep fucking up.”

Claire winced at the F-word. Tom would never stand for it.

“I’ll speak to them then,” she said, amused now at the scheming vacant gaze that had washed over Jenny’s face.

*

Jenny hadn’t known quite what to expect. The house was large and grand, just short of a manorial home. It was Georgian she guessed, with large eight-pane windows and smooth yellow bricks. It was free standing in its own grounds at the end of a long winding golden brown gravel drive. She particularly liked the monkey puzzle tree at the bend in the track. Running her eye to the top of the house she counted six floors, including a row of small windows in the roof itself where no doubt a century before had been the maids’ quarters.

Tom was around 10 years older than Michelle, a thick set man in his mid-40s with thick dark silver-streaked hair and bright blue smiley eyes. His wife was dark blonde with tasteful highlights. Not exactly a head turner Jenny thought, but attractive enough with a work-out body. She too had blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

“Let me take your bags,” Tom offered.

“I only have one,” Jenny told him shyly, “I wasn’t sure if I would be staying. I mean…”

“Oh, why is that?” Michelle asked brightly. “We have plenty of room and from what Claire says you need a bit of a leg up.”

“I know but…” Jenny blushed; she was sure now that she wanted to stay more than anything.

“Fine, then that is settled,” Michelle said maternally, “We want to give you the space to find yourself, if you’ll take it?”

Jenny nodded eagerly.

“We spoke on the phone and I know that you have talked to Claire,” Tom put in, he shot a somewhat irritated look at his wife who winced, and then he continued “We offer four specific things, room with board, our guidance, some rules, and consequences for breaking them.”

Jenny remembered what Claire had said and the rather stern almost scolding lecture she had got from Tom on the phone. The rent was a token amount and the rules meant being home by 10 on a work night even if she was between jobs. It also made provision for a required savings plan.

Tom had also spoken about retraining and the importance of good food and exercise. It all sounded fair enough until he got to the consequences part. A breach of the rules resulted in a five pound fine unless she preferred the alternative. Jenny had blushed at this point knowing as she did how they handled Claire. Tom had told her that after three rule breaches and she would be grounded like a teenager and faced other pre-agreed consequences.

Realising that Tom was waiting for her to say something Jenny nodded and then after a pause added “I understand.”

“Do you?” Tom said pointedly.

“Don’t I have to sign something?” Jenny said quickly to distract from his stern gaze.

“It’s just something our lawyer arranged, nothing special, we once had a problem with a girl we tried to help,” Michelle put in dismissively.

Tom seemed to glare at her for a moment and then cut in to say, “No, it’s a legal document and you should never be dismissive about such things. I suggest you read it and sleep on it, then sign it if you still want to the next morning. Actually we have three versions, so from the outset you have to make some hard choices.”

Jenny felt a surge of panic at the prospect of a decision. She knew Claire had seen a lawyer before signing and thought about it for a month. It was typical of Claire these days. But she had had previous experience of Tom and Michelle.

“Can’t I just sign the one that Claire signed?” Jenny said quickly. “I mean it’s on the terms you said right?”

“Of course you can…” Michelle began, her smile broad and encouraging.

“You had better read it first anyway. The devil is in the detail as always,” Tom said quickly, again shooting an irritated look at his wife.

“There’s no need to be so officious Tom,” Michelle said sticking to her guns, “She can always change the arrangement and sign a different agreement later.”

Tom nodded and Jenny heaved a sigh. She had so wanted what Claire had, perhaps in ways she couldn’t quite face. Now despite the pangs in her tummy, she felt excited at this new turn in the page of her life.

*

The rules or the deadly sins as Tom called them were not that odious in the main. But they were strictly enforced. In her first week she was just eight minutes late home and Tom bawled her out as if she was just a kid. The 30 minute scolding was worse than the five pound fine.

On the Saturday Jenny had left her room in a mess and a cup with cold tea, a forbidden beverage in the bedroom, getting spilled on the carpet. She had tried to cover up the mess and when Michelle had caught her scrubbing the carpet with bleach, Jenny had denied that it was tea.

“What you need is a good spanking,” Michelle growled at her.

That had been before she had admitted to the lie; another of the deadly sins. But the threat strangely thrilled her, as if she stood on an abyss.

She remembered fooling herself on reading the arrangement document. She had agreed that her sanction regime could be altered unilaterally by Tom if he felt that the fine system wasn’t working. Fooling herself because in her heart she knew what that could mean and yet she denied it.

Now the spanking threat made her queasy and brought her situation home.

“You’re grounded,” Michelle told her when the truth came out. “Until next Monday, that means you will not go out except for a course or to work and you will be in bed by 10 o’clock every night.”

Jenny gaped at her and was about to yell that it wasn’t fair. Then she saw Tom regarding her from the doorway and she blushed. It was totally ridiculous getting grounded like a teen, but that was what she had agreed. Damn, she blushed even more furiously and kicked something across the room.

“That’s enough of that young lady,” Tom scolded her.

*

Jenny couldn’t quite see letting anyone spank her. But it troubled her that she was even thinking in those terms. Then again, it was insane that a woman approaching her mid-20s was grounded like a little kid and getting sent to bed at 10 o’clock.

Before coming there she had thought sticking to some rules was worth the price of a great and not to say inexpensive place to live. It gave her a chance to save some money and get organised, but for the first time in her life she had structure and rules and it was turning out to be hard. Maybe once she got into it and settled down she could tell herself that she didn’t have boundaries and it wouldn’t be so embarrassing.

It was a resolve that lasted all the way to Friday night. With two days left of being kept in, she met a cute guy at lunch break who had invited her to a party. What could she say? Can I meet you next weekend as I am grounded?

Her plan was simple. Come home from her temp job as usual and then go to bed just after nine. Then once everyone assumed she was in bed she could easily slip away and get to the road to meet the pre-booked taxi.

Of course the plan required leaving the back door unlocked and disabling the security light that came on with a motion sensor. But she would be back by… well her thoughts hadn’t gone that far, but as long as she didn’t drink too much she could sneak back in before anyone noticed.

*

Jenny’s footfalls on the gravel path were louder than she thought possible and she had to keep stopping to listen hard. An owl hooted in the dark, a single ‘who?’ followed by another as if she were being challenged. It was silly of course, it was close on two o’clock and no one else would be up now.

To keep down the crunch of her steps she moved onto the side lawn and made for the paving at the back. Something darted away in the shadows and she froze. The vixen triggered the security light washing both the sleek red animal and Jenny in its cold white glare. The fox gave her one look of disdain and then slunk away into the undergrowth.

“Damn, I fixed that,” she cursed, breaking for the back door now.

It was locked. Shit, shit, shit, her mind raced, she felt sick. Well it didn’t mean that anyone knew it was her doing or that she was gone out. Only that someone had discovered the security was off. Nevertheless she made a dash for the front door, which she had a key for and risked the creaky main staircase. That was a nightmare in itself. Each step groaned and announced her weight upon it and she had to pause to listen. Damn these old stairs, she berated the house.

Her room was a haven of relief and she stood for an age with her back against the door closed behind her.

“Oh yes,” she whispered in triumph, “the Jen-machine does it again.”

Then her bed beckoned like a giant fist of cotton, embracing her as it drew her in. She might just have drifted off when a tap at her door brought her back.

“Good night Jenny, we’ll talk in the morning,” Michelle whispered from outside.

*

“I want the truth,” Tom said sharply. “We know you went out last night. You got back at two.”

“No it was about…” Jenny protested, she was going to fight for every minute.

Claire looked embarrassed for her and shifted uncomfortably in her chair in the main lounge, while Michelle stood nearby hugging herself tightly, concern etched on her face. Jenny wished they would go away.

“Don’t argue with me, I don’t want to hear semantics,” Tom barked. “You went out without permission while grounded, you came back late by any standard without telling anyone where you were going.”

Well yeah, Jenny thought, letting attitude touch her face.

“What I need to know is, did you leave the back door unlocked and turn off the motion sensors?” Tom’s eyes were hard and fixed her in a glare. “Think before you answer, I really, really don’t want any lies.”

Jenny nodded, two pools of red marking her face. She dipped her head to study where her canvas slip-on indoor shoes met the carpet.

Claire visibly winced at the admission, but Michelle relaxed a little, looking relieved even.

“So you know you did wrong?” Tom said sadly.

“Yes,” Jenny said. Her voice was more a sigh than a whisper.

“You understand that you might have put this house, our home,” he added urgently, “in danger and everyone in it?”

“I didn’t…” Jenny looked up, horrified now, “I didn’t think, really I didn’t mean to,” she wailed.

Tom held her gaze until she looked away again, the blush extending across her whole face and head.

“I know,” he said at last, “And you didn’t lie about it anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny whispered in her smallest possible voice as if hoping he would forget she was there.

“Well grounding didn’t work did it? The fines are going to get you into debt at this rate,” Tom sighed, “So let’s try the old-fashioned way.”

Sometimes one can’t bring to mind what one knows. It is almost as if the body runs on autopilot with regard to the social conventions, while somewhere in the gut and the back of the brain a small dread of acceptance grows.

It was like this now with Jenny. When Tom told her to stand up and let her jeans down, she couldn’t make sense of the words.

“What?” she asked, now biting nervously at her thumb.

“I said, stand-up and slip your trousers down,” he told her.

Behind him Claire bit her lip and Michelle nodded encouragingly.

“My jeans?” she corrected him distractedly.

“Stand-up,” Tom said sharply, his voice rising a little.

Jenny jerked and then as if peeling herself from superglue, she reluctantly got to her feet while her hands fluttered around her waist.

“That’s it, take them right down,” Tom told her.

“W-why? I mean… you can’t,” she looked at Michelle for salvation.

“Young lady you have a spanking coming and I am going to spank you. I want you to take pants and trousers down and come across my knee,” Tom said calmly.

Jenny’s mouth formed an O and she felt more heat rising in her face. Maybe her epic blushing had used up her blood now, because she was a little dizzy. But somehow the active more aware left brain moved her hands as by their own volition and she unbuttoned her jeans to slid theme down in minimum compliance.

For Tom it was surrender enough and he dropped into the leather settee beside her and pulled her firmly across his knees. Efficiently then, he slid Jenny’s knickers and jeans down her legs to her calves and adjusted her on his lap.

Jenny, robbed of adequate words, just gasped.

As Tom’s hand rose above his right shoulder as Claire clapped her hands to her mouth and Michelle frowned. Then he gave Jenny’s bare bottom its first spanking. At this her face became animated with pain and confusion while her naked hips rolled her deep-set curves.

The spanking continued for long minutes before Jenny’s gasps and wriggles gave way to a grunt. By then her bottom was fiercely red and tears had pooled at her red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh,” she said and groaned at each spank after that, her muted cries competing with her heavy fast breathing.

The only other sound, a louder one, was the rise and fall of Tom’s hand as he played out the music of crisp drumming thwacks.

“I never spank to anything less than a surrender,” he said in a determined voice, “And make no mistake, next time it will be harder and I won’t just use my palm.”

“Uh, oh, I’m sorry,” Jenny wailed and then she began to cry.

They were gentle tears at first and then she began to bawl, repeating over and over that she was sorry.

“Tom,” Michelle whispered.

He looked up with a glare and then his face softened as he nodded.

“Alright, you’re done,” he said at last, “You’re grounded for another two weeks and for the rest of this morning you can go and stand in the corner. Knickers down, mind you. And be thankful you didn’t lie to us.”

Jenny didn’t react for a moment, but lay there hugging his thighs and sobbing heartily. Then finally she said, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“We know,” Michelle said gently and stepped forward to help the hobbled Jenny stagger to the corner.

“Am I forgiven? I thought I had screwed up again?” Jenny asked, as the corner embraced her. She was certain that they would make her leave.

“Well you did, I suppose, big time,” Michelle winked, “But now you know what you’re going to get. And yes you are forgiven. But if you ever leave the back door unlocked again… I’ll spank you too and I doubt if you’ll sit down for a month.”

Jenny nodded, suddenly embarrassed as she realised her position. This was crazy shit. But at least she felt safe and for the first time, she belonged maybe.

A young lady called Sazza sent me an email subject tagged ‘for publication’ with this picture saying “This could be me and my sisters,” and signed off “Sorority Spanking Rocks.”

This very shy woman’s brief missive did not make it clear if she was saying that she thought that this was her, or as I suspect, just that she had been in this position. As yet she hasn’t replied to my reply and I suspect now that she won’t so enjoy this possible candid.

No idea where this came from. It has been on the hard drive since before my PC was replaced two years ago. It is probably a spanking shoot picture, but I love the expression on her face and the ‘reality feel’ of it.

As you might guess, I am still on leave, hence the light post.

Picked this up from a non-spanking Tumblr. I am still travelling myself and having to contend with the floods, so think of this a postcard.

Now that they have caught her, how are they going to spank her?

Silver Screen special. Two oft compared stars and a generic period screen goddess image.

Back from the wild and very wet South West and so far I have had no time to catch-up on comments. It looks like I am not the only one to be away and too busy to blog. Not to undermine those who have made posts it seems very quiet in Spankville at the moment. Several blogs have not updated for weeks and in a couple of cases have yet to emerge at all this year.

One of the obvious exceptions to this is Scarlet’s Real Magic, who seems to be in trouble. The OTK of Amelia above was taken from there.

Last week Rollin ran excerpt from Pendragon’s Lash, which is somewhat topical for me.

On another front the London Alternative Market is on Sunday down near Tower Bridge at America One. Yet again I won’t make it, Sunday’s are so awkward, but do drop in for it and the after-market party (tickets sold separately).

Just outside of the previous week, but as it is so quiet, I will point out that LSF Blog did a promo on my story The Uber Brats. This blog is a good reference for their other stories.

Other pictures are from Able’s Tumblr, Cutiepie, Plector and the Spanking Blog.

Sudden events right after being on leave has left the Corner without posts. Sorry about that.

Sometimes life runs smoothly as a succession of routines and plans. Then in a blink everything you relied upon is thrown out and all bets are off. Unfortunately due to being on leave in the previous week there were no posts ready and no opportunity to write any so apologies for that sudden hiatus.

Never mind we’re back, if not quite home and clear.

Just before I went I launched a new project as an experiment and there will be more about that later this week. Also A Voice in the Corner reached its nine millionth visit over the weekend.

There are some short stories pending and this month should see the return of Ad Astra.

Still catching up so it is mostly pictures this week (well it cuts down the waffle) but Less Than Three Blog has a report on a party if you like real life being more fun.

Pictures are from 1001 Spanking Fantasies, About Spanking, Acknowledging Imperfect, CutiePie, Scarlet’s Real Magic, the Spanking Blog and Spanking Starlets.