Part I here

Melanie regarded the hard-backed chair facing her make-up table with an admixture of dread and resolve; not that she made the least move towards it. Instead she stood with her hands on her hips from where tentative fingers sallied out to probe the dusky burgundy flesh of her behind. Her upper thighs ached somewhat too and every time she took a step forward she felt more than a little pain in her bottom. This now colourful part of her anatomy had been left exposed to the cooling air, although even this seemed futile to her just then.

Having listened to Melanie’s punishment with a combination of sympathy and prurient fascination, Rain had waited for Jared to leave and her sister-wife’s tears to abate before slipping into their room. She now stood leaning against the wall with folded arms as she contemplated the gloriously well-punished hiney in admiration. What a man and what a woman, she thought, enjoying some memories of her own.

Melanie shot the watching woman a rueful glance, and rain returned it with a suitably sympathetic wince. Despite her embarrassing discomfort, the punished blonde swallowed an unbidden smile until a small hissing laugh escaped her lips.

Rain joined her until both women were in fits of giggles.

“Oh, oh,” Melanie groaned suddenly, “It really isn’t funny.”

“It kind of is,” Rain chuckled, but she now crossed the room and took Melanie’s arm. “Come on, let’s have face down on the bed. I have something for that tender tail or yours.”

“Ooh, I don’t think I am gonna sit down for a week,” the red-bottomed girl groaned as she crawled forward onto the divan.

“A week? That’s an optimistic call,” Rain laughed as she now took a closer look at Melanie’s sore bottom. “A month would be my guess right now. Leastways I am sure I wouldn’t contemplate a chair if it was my tail end.”

“If it were your tail end I am sure that would be true,” Melanie sighed as she finally lowered herself face down. “Your ass is half the size of mine.”

“Half the size means half the spanking,” Rain teased.

“Don’t remind me,” Melanie said in a mock wail, “It is so unfair.”

“Don’t knock it girl, what I wouldn’t give for an ass like yours.”

Melanie looked back over her shoulder appreciatively and murmured, “You do alright, you have the pert delicate derriere of a goddess,” and then poked out her tongue.

“Why thank you ma’am,” Rain said with a mock curtsey. “Now lie still while fetch some cold cream.”

“And some ice,” Melanie said as Rain moved away.


A large group of men stood on the rise above the ranch. There were 19 in all, mostly clad in a mix of leather and denim suggesting a biker convention was in progress. Most were gathered together around the five principles surveying the forest and the rise and fall of the land towards town. That and the setting moon as it touched the trees.

Even in the morning daylight the blue-white moon looked huge above the treeline. It wasn’t quite full, that was another two nights away, but already the younger men were getting skittish.

Sundance smiled indulgently and catching Garrick’s eye nodded at an anxious group of boys standing apart from the others. These three young men were new bloods and not yet enjoyed a full season of the hunt. Garrick nodded and winked; he remembered his own first days.

Jared followed the old men’s and scowled. The newbies were scarcely out of high school and as yet little use to anyone. He turned back to his brothers and nodded.

Adam was suggesting that this month’s hunt should have out-rangers. It was a sound enough idea. There were strangers in town and lone wolves ahead of the pack could give an early warning of trouble without seeming unduly unusual if they were seen. The elder twin matched Jared’s temperament, making him an able second in these matters.

“If you are serious about the possibility of trouble,” John put in, “There we should use some of the women for scouting duties. That way we won’t weaken the main pack if there really are hunters.”

Jared nodded. John was the clever one, even if he was a little soft where the females were concerned.

“Makes sense, we only have 16 males,” Adam agreed.

“Nineteen,” John corrected him and nodded to the three boys.

Jared snorted derisively.

Sundance made a half turn, his ears and eyes missed nothing.

“Why not let these eager new bloods act as scouts and save the able females for guarding the ranch?” the old man suggested.

A suggestion from the ancient Navajo was not lightly discarded and Jared glared.

“There are some feisty new girls among pack if you wanted more than three scouts,” Adam put in, “That way we neither weaken the guard or the hunt.”

The Navajo was still watching him closely so a non-committal Jared shrugged and folded his arms.

“It is settled then,” Garrick spoke for the first time.

The group relaxed and began to break up.

“Jared,” Garrick spoke again and beckoned to his son.

Only Sundance remained in earshot. The three quickly formed a conspiratorial triangle.

“You said there were two strangers in town?” Garrick continued.

“A woman, a city type, Adam tells me,” Jared snarled. “John thinks she is harmless, but I hear she had been asking after you.”

Garrick nodded. “Find out who she is. John is probably right, but this close to a hunt…” he shrugged casually and then added, “Have it looked into.”

“Yes Sir,” Jared agreed.


Alice sat in front of the mirror and dragged her brush angrily through her long auburn hair as if she might pull it out. Her previous fantasies about gathering her probate signatures within a day now seemed foolish. Idiotic enough for her to phone the office and finally she settle on a pleasant country guest house. She had told the over-smiling proprietor that she might stay at least a week.

“A week?” The smile had vanished from the proprietor’s face. Alice stopped mid brush and pondered that. Why had an extended stay not pleased her? What was it she had said, “Full moon tomorrow?” She frowned.

An untamed red-brown cascade of hair fell over her face and she blew it aside like the fairy-tale wolf and scowled at the woman glaring back at her. How dare he; a thought not far from her mind since the diner? At least sticking around gave her time to get back at him. It bothered her that it should matter so much. It bothered her too that she could not picture one brother in her mind without the other. But it was Adam Stone that held her rage. He said he would spank, like irritating teen, like she didn’t matter… like… like some air head in a black and white movie.

Pulver was like a town from an old post-depression story, full of savvy hicks and mysterious strangers. What was all that about vampires and dime novel mysteries? Stacy Dane had obviously been watching too many movies.

Then she thought again about Adam. “How dare he?” Spank me, spank… me, she glared furiously at her reflection and threw down the brush. She thought about his bad-boy biker jacket and his firm thighs and compared it to John’s easy smile and sympathetic shrug.

“Well I need to talk to them,” she said testily as she strove to regain professional superiority. “I need them to get to their father,” she added to her mirror unconvincingly.


The woman in the sharp business skirt-suit strode down Main Street like she had decided to buy it. The townsfolk, usually indifferent to passing strangers, shot concerned glances at her as she passed. By now everyone knew she was the city lawyer here on business, and everyone knew she had been asking after Garrick Stone.

One or two of the glanced at the morning sky and checked their watches. In Pulver everyone knew the cycles of the moon by heart. Today moon rise raced the sunset and by nightfall not one of them would be abroad.

Not one of them ‘knew’ why. No one ever spoke about it. The odd fool who even hinted at local legends was not heard and people were given to coughing loudly and hurrying on when they did. At least this Eden woman had not had the bad grace to mention it. Maybe her business was as mundane as she claimed.

Alice was not quite oblivious to this as she made her way to the diner, but she was too canny to notice and for the most part she put it down to being a stranger in town. Her appointment with Dr Anderson was not until 2.30 and by then she hoped to have some idea how to reach Garrick Stone. Her only leads so far were Stacy Dane and… the spanking threat brought renewed colour to her face and she pursed her lips… the Stone twins.

As she hoped Stacy was sitting in the same corner of the diner scratching at a note pad while sipping coffee.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked grudgingly.

Stacy barely glanced at her and shrugged.

“I thought you might…” Alice began but Stacy made to shush her with one finger and waved her hand at the opposite seat.

“I thought you might tell me where Garrick Stone lives,” Alice continued in a softer voice as she sat down.

“Sure,” Stacy said lightly, finally looking at the lawyer. “If you can tell me what business you have with him.”

“I’m sorry, but that is confidential,” Alice said sharply.

Stacy shrugged. “Yeah, I kinda feel that about the way to the Stone ranch.” She smirked and took a sip of her coffee.

Alice was still contemplating what, if anything, she could tell this woman when the twins walked in.

The room fell quiet, although no one except Alice so much as glanced over as the two men made their way to a window seat. She, on the other hand, sat with her mouth slightly open and tried to quell the sudden churning in her belly. The unfamiliar sensation hadn’t troubled her since high school and when her conscious mind finally identified it she blushed and quickly looked away.

“See something you like?” the other woman teased, still smirking.

Alice glared at her and then suddenly occupied herself with examining the table top. What am I, a college freshman? She chided herself. Then looking up she gave Stacy a superior look and calmly stood up.

With a cat-like poise she strolled across the diner with her sights firmly set on the two Stone brothers. As she walked a feline tongue delicately dampened the light pout on lips as cool fingers smoothed over the curves of her skirt-hugging bottom as if to emphasise her charms.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” she said pleasantly as she drew up alongside Adam.

The hard-eyed man slowly swung his gaze to assess her. “Did we?” he said.

“After all I am new around here and I only wanted to introduce myself,” Alice said silkily, trying not to let his manner intimidate her. “I do have some legal business with your father. It is a matter of some property.”

Adam Stone was not the first tough and difficult man she had met and she usually gave as good as she got. But this man unsettled her and she could feel her heart racing as he watched her.

“Legal business you say?” John cut in cheerfully. “May I ask what it concerns exactly?”

Alice smiled as warmly as she could manage and told him, “I would rather discuss that with your father, but it concerns the Stephens house.”

John knew that old man Stephens had owned one of the houses in town, but had died a few months back. No doubt his father had contrived to have some legal interest in the property; his usual way of regulating unwelcome development in Pulver.

“I’ll be sure and mention that to him ma’am,” he said placating her, “Maybe we can arrange something next week.”

“But…” Alice protested, she almost blurted that all she needed was a signature. What was she supposed to do in Pulver for a week?

“Do you have a card?” John asked as he cut her off.

“Oh… yes,” Alice said, now thoroughly deflated. She reached into her purse and handed him a simple white embossed business card.

“Thank you,” John said with finality, shooting a significant glance at Adam.

Alice nodded back and backed away. She had been dismissed. Smiling stiffly she turned on her heel to offer them a clear view of her sassy behind before sauntering back across the room to Stacy.

“Looks like this woman is no big deal,” John chuckled as he admired her retreating bottom, “She certainly doesn’t seem a threat. Maybe I can conduct some business of my own with her once the hunt is past.”

“Jared asked us to check her out. I suggest you call her office and have our lawyers in the city check out her credentials,” Adam grunted.

“Doesn’t she do anything for you at all?” John chuckled.

Adam cast a glance at Alice and shrugged. Whatever she did or didn’t do for him was his business.

Alice dropped into her seat with a sneer and with her eyes dared Stacy to laugh.

The only response from the strange lawyer was a ‘told you so’ shrug. “So you are a lawyer,” Stacy pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps maybe I can help you after all.”

Summer Fun



I don’t know what she expects to happen with that paddle, but I know what you are thinking. Just a reminder that we are away. Enjoy your holidays.

Vintage Sunday


dt07_200This is more or less just a plug for one of my books. I’ll shove the publishers blurb in at the bottom. Consider what proceeds it as clever prose designed to beguile you. However, while we are on the subject, I would like to thank those of you who have bought my books even though they have read the stories here already, this just so that they can support this creative process. Thank you.

I did get one bad review on Amazon by someone who complained that a certain book was just a rehash of something already published on my blog. The fact that they had read it for free the first time seems to escape them. It seems unfair to give the creative endevour one star on this basis.

Not all of my material is available here, but almost everything published on the LSF free site has been here first. Only certain work is published for sale and even that can usually be borrowed for free from Amazon. Then I get nothing. Good job I am not in this for the money. Although if more of you did buy more spanking books then the writers would have more time and resources to write them. For my part I would ask that if you do download a book from Amazon – a positive view is always welcome. Otherwise but it direct from LSF – I get twice the royalties then.Small literary wink there.

I do get a lot of requests for this series or that. People even express a preference for F/F over M/F and vice versa. However, strangely people seem less convinced about whether they want historical, domestic or sci fi.

For the next couple weeks we are away and my email replies might get spotty. So might the posts. But there is already a lot of copy lined up to go, so enjoy.

Anyway here is the advertorial.

Disciplinary Tales Volume 7

A collection of shorts from the pen of DJ Black.

Carrie Undercover: Undercover cop, Cassie, infiltrates the Colossians Baptist Ladies College in Alabama. Her Chief chose her for the role as she’s a petite twenty-five-year-old who can easily pass for eighteen. But things don’t go too well for Cassie when she’s caught snooping one night in the office of the principal’s secretary. Her attempts to find the student register are thwarted when the strict Principal Martin De Mark catches her in the act and canes her on her bare bottom. And that’s only her first punishment – she has yet to feel the bite of the principal’s paddle…

Remonstration: When Martine sees 22 year-old Cathy bent over about to be caned by Braden, she intervenes, claiming Cathy is way too old to be spanked. Braden disagrees – he gives Cathy twelve stingers, and on hearing Martine’s confession, gives her twelve strokes of the cane too.

Soul Mates: Adam is still grief-stricken more than a year after the death of his wife and daughter. Consumed with memories, his reverie is broken by a reckless driver who ends up in a ditch. The young woman, Stacy, reminds him of his daughter. After he gives her a ride home, they discuss discipline, and Stacy realizes that it is what she needs and asks him to spank her. It is a cathartic experience for both of them, and marks a new beginning.

Weird about Spanking: Jan shares her memory of a painful punishment given to her sister and herself by their step-father, Jack, when she was twenty-two and about to leave college. Not only did they take his car without permission, they damaged it and let their sister take the rap for it. When Jack found out, two naughty bare bottoms were spanked in front of the neighbours – a public affair and very memorable!

The Trouble with Cowgirls: Jake returns home the ranch to find his wife Amy outraged about the behaviour of the younger sisters who live with them. Sarah and Emma had been smoking tobacco and caused a fire in the barn. Jake delivers swift and severe justice to their bare backsides, before making the two sisters stand in the corner. Later on he realizes they didn’t cause the fire, someone else did… and that someone will also get a smoking hot butt.

The Tempest: Abby, in a rebellious mood, ignores instructions, skips her chores and finds herself in danger as a tornado nears. Ungrateful and surly after being rescued by Tom, one of her father’s farmhands, she finds herself riding the storm out in a storm cellar as the big man paddles her bare bottom.

Long Live the King: Two female London reporters get themselves into serious trouble when they go to the Fens to investigate a potentially ‘hot’ story. An ancient tradition is upheld deep in the heart of the Fenlands, and there is a vacant position as King. The safety of the two nosey reporters depends very much on who gets the position and therefore decides on their fate. Once the new King is proclaimed, he has his own daughter’s misbehaviour to deal with, and the two reporters limp back to London with very sore bottoms.

A Paddle without a Creek: When Lucy gets paddled at school, her mother Ann recalls how she too was paddled at school and how it has been her secret fantasy ever since. She visits Lucy’s school and complains, rudely, to the Dean about her daughter’s paddling. But on her next visit she apologises and admits she is the one who needs to feel the paddle. Dean Winslow happily obliges, and unexpected changes begin to take shape in Ann’s life.

Published: Jul 14, 2018
Words: 25,441
Orientation: M/F
Category: general

Get it here.

Part I here

Alice was furious. It felt as if all eyes were on her and she almost left the diner. But she knew that would be running away and would have only made things worse. Instead she sat glowering at the table top and fidgeting with the ceramic tray that held the salt, pepper and ketchup. Everyone else in the room also seemed to be fixed on the tables in front of them, all ignoring her with a will.

That bastard, how dare he say that? The heat rose in her face and she supressed an angry exclamation that came out as a loud sigh.

“What can I get you ma’am?” Nancy said pleasantly.

Alice glared up at the waitress and snarled, “Who does he think he is?”

“Ah… Adam Stone, I knew him in high school, always the cold fish, but not always mean though. His brother is the nice one. Best stay away from them. Around here people generally get out of the Stone’s way. Always have.” Nancy felt uncomfortable talking about the Stones, everyone in town did. It was best to stay out of their business. “You want to order now?”

“I met so many guys who say shit like that, as if they would dare,” Alice said under her breath, more to herself than the waitress. She wasn’t really listening to Nancy just then.

“Oh Adam Stone would are all right, he’s done that and worse before now. In this town he would get away with it too. That’s why I suggested you move over here,” Nancy replied in a low voice. “Do you want more time before I take your order?”

The diner had returned to normal and no one was paying her any attention now, not even the Stone brothers. Alice composed herself.

“Coffee and a sandwich, cheese and ham salad, if you have it,” Alice sighed.

“Coming right up ma’am,” Nancy said breezily, happy to bring the conversation they were not having to an end.

Alice shot a glare at Adam Stone and pondered what the waitress had said. The man had just said he would spank her in front of half the town and apparently it was no idle threat. She felt her heart thumping in her chest and a churning in her tummy way beyond anything that such a comment should cause. After all guys came on to her all the time and had said much worse things than that. She usually just blew them off with a comeback.

“Mind if I join you?” an indolent voice broke her train of thought.

Alice looked up to see the scruffy young woman in the beret who had been sitting in the corner. She stood there with an arrogant slouch appraising the lawyer with her eyes.

“Couldn’t help see you had a run in with the twin princes,” Stacy snorted. “Names Stacy Dane, I am new around here too.” She held out a hand for a shake and when one wasn’t forthcoming she sat down in the opposite seat without waiting for an invitation. “What brings you to Pulver? You got business with the Stones?”

“That, Ms Dane, is my affair,” Alice said sharply, “What business are you in?”

“Stacy, just call me Stacy,” Stacy smiled. “Me… I’m a writer,” she waited for a reaction. “Freelance mostly, but I have worked for the Herald, the Times and the Post. I wrote American Vampires, you may have heard of it?”

“No,” Alice said firmly. This woman sounded like a flake.

Stacy shrugged and undeterred she said, “Notice anything strange about this town?”

Alice frowned, “Like what?”

Stacy rolled her lips into her mouth so that they disappeared. It was a habit gained in childhood and made her look froglike and pensive. Then she released her mouth with an audible pop and surrendered her lips to a wistful smile. She tilted her head to one side as if waiting.

Alice shrugged. “No, no I haven’t,” she said at last.

“You don’t think maybe people here are hiding something, the Stones for example?” Stacy said quietly.

Alice looked around. Apart from Adam, the people had been friendly and from where she sat it looked like anywhere in small town America. She shook her head.

“I have some simple, pretty routine business with Garrick Stone…” she stopped, so routine in fact that it would have been completed by now if he wasn’t so hard to approach.

“Yeah and how is that working out for you?” Stacy leaned in and asked conspiratorially. “See what I mean,” Stacy did the lip thing again.

“What can you tell me about the Stones?” Alice asked.

But just then Nancy returned with Alice’s order and both women sat back.

Alice sensed that any conversation around anything to do with the Stone family was not for public consumption so they waited until Nancy had set down the tray and asked if there was anything else they needed.

“No thank you,” Alice forced a smile and Nancy smiled back pleasantly and went away. “What is your interest in the Stones anyway? What was it you said you wrote, something about vampires?” she continued.

American Vampires,” Stacy said in a neutral voice and waited to see which way Alice would jump.

“Is that a novel?” Alice asked, from looks of Stacy she wasn’t exactly making money and for all she knew American Vampires could be just another self-published e-book read by one old lady and her cat.

“No,” Stacy said, her eyes still weighing Alice up.

“What are you then, some kind of supernatural writer?” Alice laughed, “Did you do one on ghosts?”

“I studied paranormal psychology at college and then did my master’s in journalism. My thesis was on supernatural TV investigations, you know, an exposé of sorts,” Stacy explained very carefully. “I thought I was going to get the inside junk on television fakery.”

“So, what happened?” Alice’s interest was piqued now.

“I saw… something and… well anyway, let us just say that no one was faking anything, not what I saw and heard anyway.” Stacy shuddered.

“Are you telling me ghosts are real?” Alice gaped. She didn’t believe, but having someone who wasn’t obviously crazy telling you they did was something else.

“I am not telling you anything, I try to stay away from shades and demons. But the point is…” Stacy paused. “I wrote a couple of articles and someone got in touch and asked me if I believed in vampires. Before my experience on the show I would have hung up. But there was something about the tale I was told… anyway, I did some checking and went through all the usual debunking techniques… anyway, the rest in is in my book.”

Alice was smirking and took a sip of coffee to hide it. “So what is your interest in the Stone family? Are they vampires too?”

“No I don’t think so,” Stacy said seriously. “I was checking out some old Native American folklore and some real accounts of pioneers and… well there was a picture of some early settlers, pioneers from this town as a matter of fact. I was interviewing a woman who comes from here to see if I could get some gen… when she saw the picture she asked me how I had gotten a picture of old man Stone.”

“You mean Garrick?” Alice shrugged.

“Yeah,” Stacy drawled, “Only I already told you, these pictures were from the 19th century, they were of early pioneers.”

Alice laughed a little too loudly. “So you do think he is a vampire?”

Stacy hushed her and anxiously looked around. “No, I think he is something else entirely.”

“Well couldn’t he just be a ringer for his great grandfather or something?” Alice suggested.

“Maybe,” Stacy said unconvincingly, and then as if changing the subject she said, “Did you know that Jared Stone served in the US Marine Corp… during World War Two?”

“Who is Jared Stone?” Alice shrugged, “Garrick’s father?”

“His eldest son,” Stacy sat back and regarded Alice with her sternest gaze.

“So let me get this straight,” Alice was gaping at her new friend in astonishment, “You are saying that… that Garrick Stone is what, at least 120 years old?”

Stacy gave a quick shake of her head. “Apart from the picture I don’t have a thing on Garrick, but he may well be. I am saying that his son Jared Stone has been living in this town since at least 1920,” Stacy leaned forward and poked the table with her finger.

“So he is Garrick’s elder brother… you just mixed him up with…” Alice wasn’t taking this in.

“Have you seen Jared Stone?” Stacy said sharply.

Alice made a face and shook her head.

“He doesn’t look a day over 40,” Stacy said pointedly.


Melanie sat on the bed feeling sorry for herself. Occasionally she would throw a glance into the mirror and wince. Why had she thought such a drastic haircut had been a good idea? Jared was right, they had a position to uphold and what amounted to a whim was not only a bit of mischief but a fairly serious breach of pack discipline.

With another look at the mirror she rolled her eyes in self-derision and sighed. What was she going to say to Jared? She thought about toughing it out and standing on her rights. Oh you’ll be standing alright girl, she thought ruefully. She rehearsed an apology in her head.

Melanie was still running her excuses through her head when the door opened and Jared strolled in. The skip of her heart was more than just nerves and for a moment she regarded her husband with longing. In some parts he might pass for a rugged 30-something, his mane of dark hair framing strong features marred only by scar under his eye.

“Well?” he barked, his arms hanging loose like a hunter’s.

Melanie swallowed and answered him with a small shrug.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Jared pressed her sternly.

Damn the man, she thought and shook her head. As she did so she slowly gained her feet and began to remove her denims.

Getting his answer Jared crossed the room and grabbed three pillows from against the headboard and piled them in a pyramid on the bed. By the time he had completed the task Melanie was stepping out of her pants and was already working on her panties.

“Over and up,” he ordered as his hands flipped the buckle of his belt and he drew it through denim hoops.

His second wife sucked in air through her nose and unconsciously tugged at her shirt in front. Then with a sigh of resignation she clambered on to the bed and lay her hips across the pile of pillows.

“I said get it up,” he growled.

Melanie pressed her knees and thighs into the heap of Egyptian cotton and pushed her bare behind backwards and up. He bottom was round and taught now with million dollar curves. Only the pale sun-shy skin gave away its owner as a working woman.

“Oh God,” she breathed.

Satisfied, Jared drew the leather tight in his hands and lined up for a sweeping stroke. It came with skin tearing power that made his woman grunt. She had taken worse. All the same there was now a red swathe across both cheeks.

The steady thwack of his belt on bottom could be heard outside the room and Melanie blushed into the bedding. Tears pooled and then leaked onto the red cheeks of her face while her bare bottom went an even more vivid colour.

For the most part she was silent as the belt landed; only the occasional groan and her rapid breathing gave up her distress. But her backside was red raw now and the scarlet tones had darkened to dusky plum as rubber welts formed in the borders between spanked and unspanked flesh.

Finally she spluttered to a wail and the word “Jared” escaped her lips.

“I’m here,” he soothed, but the sweep of his belt was already telling that story.

Melanie started sobbing now, her bottom and shoulders bobbing up and down as she cried in earnest.

“I’m here,” Jared said again, but not once did his punishing arm stop or even slow in its work.

“I know, I know,” Melanie sobbed, “I’m sorry.”

Now I Remember


! summer fun! spanksgiving 6! spanksgiving 5!1angela4The day after I launch my PC goes down and I am not sure it is working properly yet. That binned my Monday post.

Yes I remember these problems now, if it is not the CMS interface it is the sever, if it is not that it is access to a computer.

The new challenge (well for me here) is that we are about to go away on leave. That means light post and scheduled materials. I have another Steampunk story coming up next week (if the scheduler will work) and whatever I can queue up: In the Service of the Wolf is already pending.

Another problem is I cannot answer my email so easily. I was mid conversation with people in the run up to the relaunch

Anyway, my post will have to be re-edited but meanwhile here are some pictures.

In future I will try and be more systematic about sources. But other than the obvious two above, the woman in the yellow dress is from an art movie called Spankgiving.

Jocelyn Deveraux was a four feet eleven inch tower of defiance. Her impossible gold blonde tresses were neatly pinned under a riding bowler draped at the brim with a pair of driving goggles. From under these two big blue eyes regarded the world in triumph. The goggles were a promise to herself that she would have a steam car of her own one day, a somewhat childish aspiration in her father’s view, rather like buying a saddle when one did not own a horse.

Nor were the goggles the most controversial thing about her attire. As a keen modernist, Jocelyn was an advocate of trousers for women, but her father had taken a contrary position.

“Breeches on a girl, never heard of such a thing,” he had blustered, “The damn fillies in this house can wear any damn thing they want, so long as they clad themselves in a dress, what. That is my last word.”

Lord Deveraux had assumed that was the end of the matter. However, Jocelyn was not so easily cowed and had outfoxed the old duffer by indeed wearing a dress, but this gown was of blue silk cut bodice tight above the waist, but only hung to her knees in front and rose at the back bum freezer-style to reveal a trim pair of cotton trousers.

“What you need is a damn good thrashing,” Deveraux had raged when he saw them. But he had promised his late wife faithfully that he would have no hand in physically correcting is daughter once she turned 18 and she was now fast approaching 20.

Furthermore after the last governess had eloped with the under butler Lord Deveraux had public sworn off having such servants under his roof. He had rashly promises his daughter that no woman…

“Or tutors,” Jocelyn had quickly interjected.

“Or tutors,” her father had continued with his rage, “Will come to this house and lay hands on my blood while purporting to be moral.”

Jocelyn licked her lips and surveyed the expanse of land behind the house that would one day be hers. She sighed, she had got her way, she always got her way. Furthermore it was clear that father had finally given up contesting her will. For only that morning she had found a brochure from Marley-Dexter, the famous steam engineers. Clearly Daddy was considering buying a steam car, after all he could hardly want to buy an airship. Her heart soared.

That’s when she saw a curious person walking up the gravel path that cut across the back lawn. Like a huge bear or a great ape, the person was draped in a large leather coat and was stooped over so that a high stovepipe hat rose and fell like a piston as they lumbered along with a curious gait.

Stranger still, as he walked Jocelyn fancied she could hear a hissing sound followed by a gentle clank like child’s toy train.

“What a curious thing,” she muttered as she watched the man’s progress, for she was sure now that he was indeed a man.

The cause of his odd mode of walking was his limp. With each great step of his left leg, his right would stiffly clank forward in its train. Clearly the creature had some sort of steam-powered false leg, but while she considered this she noticed his face. Set next to a baleful bloodshot left eye, was a fearsome orb of steel and glass that far from being a dead thing, whirred and spun as if constantly trying to focus on some unknown horror of the world.

Then he stopped.

This motion was so absolute that Jocelyn startled and almost fled the terrace for the safety of the conservatory. Then the man straightened to his full seven feet in height and turned his head towards her.

“You must be Jocelyn Deveraux,” he said in a sharp melodious voice. It had an unearthly quality to it and Jocelyn wondered if it too was somehow an artifice.

Jocelyn gaped at the man and searched her soul for a reply.

“Young woman,” the man said firmly, “It is highly impolite not to answer when spoken to.” His face was scarred with ragged white crevices on his flesh and his jaw looked as if it might once have been broken and not quite correctly set.

“Oh… I… I… yes, I am… ah… Jocelyn Deveraux,” she spluttered.

“I am here to see Lord Deveraux, your father,” he said.

“Sir you have the advantage of me,” Jocelyn said, her imperious voice tried to hide her fear. “What business can you possibly have with my father?”

The man’s right eye made a sound and Jocelyn fancied that it just focussed like a lens. His left, more disconcertingly, finally blinked.

“My name is Axel Dalliance, and my business is you,” the man said.

Jocelyn caught a breath and gape-mouthed, she clutched her heart. Then Dalliance tipped his hat as he nodded and lumbered on to meet his appointment.


“I promised no more governesses, and no more tutors, I do not recall saying anything about governors,” Lord Deveraux said wearily, scarcely bothering to look up from his papers.

Jocelyn could only gape in disbelief. “Who on God’s Earth has ever heard of a governor?” she finally gasped.

“Well I have, and now you have, see your education is already advanced,” her father chuckled.

“But, but, but… it’s… it’s indecent,” she gasped, still clutching her heart for affect. It made her look delicate and maidenly.

“Indecent? Indecent how?” Lord Deveraux looked up with real interest.

“I mean,” Jocelyn blushed, her imagination had been running away with her, chiefly on account of an episode with her last governess. The old battle axe had not taken kindly to an adder in her bed and had resorted chasing Jocelyn around the school room. Jocelyn had finally been cornered in her own bedroom and forced onto her tummy and stripped; whereupon, the governess had lashed her bare bottom some two dozen times with a nursery birch.

Jocelyn could have sworn her father had smirked at her tapering protests and instead of putting ideas into his head, she took another tack altogether. “But he is a monster,” she said.

Lord Deveraux fixed her with a hard stare until she visibly quailed and then he said, “Mr Dalliance was wounded in the service of his country having served honourably with the Royal Engineers.”

“Wounded, there is barely anything left of him,” Jocelyn gasped, “I mean to say, how can he possibly be up to the job? He is half man and half steam engine.”

“Well if that is your only objection then let us put him to the task forthwith and see.” With that the matter was closed.


Jocelyn was beginning to regret her choice of wardrobe. The back-less skirts with tight breeches had seemed like a good one-in-the-eye to her father, but now she stood in the old school room confronted by her ‘Governor’ she was embarrassed.

Axel Dalliance was huge like an iron bear with not a trace of compromise anywhere in his features.

“There will be rules,” he said, “You may not know it, but after the army the only work I could get was at one of Her Majesty’s Prisons. The prison service thought me too frail for a male establishment and I was relegated to overseeing discipline at a Holloway and then Grantham.”

Jocelyn knew that both were women prisons and Grantham had a particularly harsh reputation. She didn’t like the implication one bit.

“I don’t see what that experience has too with me,” she said as haughtily as she was able.

“Oh you will learn that in time,” Axel said, this time he smiled and it was gruesome. “But I was speaking of rules and the observance of such.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes, there were always rules, chiefly for the obedience of fools, she thought. “I know, no leaving the house or gardens without permission, no going into town without…”

“I am speaking of my rules,” he cut her off with an iron tone.

Jocelyn clammed up and blanched.

“No lateness, no answering back… no breeches,” he added pointedly, “You will walk the cinder path that borders the main lawn thrice around every day.”

There was a litany of other rules, most of which either common sense or variations on those her father had already outlined. Jocelyn listened to none of them.

“I was promised no tutors, so what are we doing in the old school room?” Jocelyn interrupted him.

“I am conversant in mathematics, geography, and German among other practical subjects. As you say, you are not required to learn any of them, but if you should so chose I am will be at your service,” he said, “You might recall I said no answering back and interruptions very much fall within that proscription.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes again and signalled her boredom with a sigh.

The steam-borg glared, one metallic eye buzzing as it focussed down on her and then with an impossible speed he seized her from the floor and deposited her across his lap as he sat upon a chair.

“What the…? Omigosh,” Jocelyn gasped.

Face down across his knees her breech-clad bottom was already vulnerable to the threatened assault, but an unsatisfied Axel took hold of the fabric and tore the offending trousers away in tatters. This left the rebellious hoyden quite bare where it counted.

“Dr Dalliance,” Jocelyn squealed, now in a tumble of shame and confusion.

The half-man literally had a piston for a right hand, and although his many attachments could serve him for most things, today he had forsworn intricacies and in preparation had adopted a simple leather coated steel paw. It was with this well-attached paddle that he began his work, his steady eye in medic mode for maximum care and efficiency.

“Lady Jocelyn,” he answered her calmly, “You have a spanking coming to you, a very sound spanking. You have already broken two of my rules and now you will face the consequences.”

It was funny he should mention faces while regarding the other end, she thought, as her own visage coloured hotly. Then reality bit her. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be, she told herself; the first stage of a spanking always being denial.

“Let go of me you bastard,” she snarled. “You wait until… aahhh…”

“And that is a hat-rick,” he sighed, “I know a young lady who might not sit down for a week.”

His arm descended with a solid thwack that put him in mind of willow upon leather, another equally English pastime. But this was long way from cricket, if Jocelyn’s stunned gasp was anything to go by; the hit rate of bat upon ball was much quicker for one thing.

“Mr Dalliance, Sir, I think we go off on the wrong… eeeh!” Bloodshot eyes started in her head as she received another mighty swat on the bare bottom. Following her denial and threats, the next stage, that of negotiation was not going well.

“No you started off in the wrong and it is my task to correct you,” Axel chided her as he spanked her again.

Looking down he was surprised that the two smooth rounds of her flesh had provoked a reaction. Maybe it was rapid flood of English strawberry red, or the firm perfect spheres? But spanking an errant had never been like this before.

“Please Sir,” she wailed a minute and perhaps 50 spanks later, “Please I’m sorry.”

Axel was surprised that she had arrived at the apology stage so quickly; he had assumed she would be more spirited,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed again, her words now somewhat damp and becoming obscured by sniffles.

Stage five would not be long in coming.

“Please, oh please,” Jocelyn finally sobbed, her bottom by them were quite interesting colours and textures. “I’ll do anything, I’ll be good.”

And there we are, Axel congratulated himself, and they were still barely six or seven minutes into her spanking. He paused.

Jocelyn could have kissed him for his mercy and now lay prone and panting in surrender.

“Now before we continue, let us have a little talk,” Axel said sagely.

Jocelyn gaped in horror at the floor; continue, she groaned inwardly.

“Now young lady, when we are finished here, and mark me, we are very far from being finished,” Axel warned, “Having nothing very much useful to do with your time, you will go and stand facing the wall with your arms neatly folded into the small of your back. You will stand there until I give you permission to take your daily constitutional.”

Jocelyn listened in horror to his words, all the while choking back little sobs and praying her would release her so that she could massage her tortured behind.

“Please I didn’t mean… can’t I… oh, oh…” she spluttered.

“You can do exactly as you have been directed to do as you so richly deserve and one more word of dissent or rebellion and we shall begin this little exercise over,” Axel growled.

The words spoken, Axel raised his piston arm and allowed it to fall with a will.

“Aaaahhhh,” Jocelyn wailed as she bawled out fresh sobs.

Axel, approving of her improved attitude, showed his appreciation with rapid and unrelenting one handed applause, all directed at his charge’s by now very sore and certainly very red bare bottom.

Jocelyn expressed her dismay with ever-vocal yowling as unamused chuckle-like sounds escaped her throat for another five minutes.


Jocelyn stood sobbing vigorously before her Iron Governor and now utterly defeated. It was all she could do not to claw at her searing bare bottom in a humiliating and unseemly display. Instead she just hopped about a bit with her arms hovering like broken wings at her side. Her crying was barely contained and she had yet to regain her breath.

“Is there anything you do not now understand?” Axel growled as he glared down at her.

“No,” she muttered sheepishly.

His right eyed whirred menacingly.

“No Sir,” she amended quickly.

“I will not see this ridiculous attire again and certainly no breeches,” he told her firmly.

“But I don’t have any other dresses now,” she wailed.

“Then you will have to make do with what you have,” he sighed.

“B-but… w-without breeches everyone will see my bloomers,” she gaped. “That is unseemly.”

“Is it now,” Axel said sharply, “Then you will do without bloomers, I doubt then you will ever want to rebel again.”

The horror of the order almost made her start to sob again.

“Have no fear, you are restricted to the house and grounds anyway,” he chuckled, “At least until you have made up your mind to request a return to your studies. Then I might consider permitting an alternative.”

Jocelyn was truly hoist upon a petard of her own making and glowered into the middle distance.

“Mark me, any rebellion, tricks or scheming and you will go back across my knee and I don’t care who is there to witness the event,” Axel said as if he could read her mind. “Now for the remainder of the morning you will turn and put your nose in that corner, just as you are mark me…”

Jocelyn gasped. The corner… but I’m… you can’t be serious,” she wailed.

“Oh I am and you will stay there until I release you for your afternoon constitutional around the grounds.” He barked at her, “If you don’t…” he raised his iron hand.

Remembering that she was naked behind she gaped, “But the servants, the gardeners…”

“Shaming isn’t it, how do you think your father feels? To him this shame is the lesser compared to your intention to dress as you do in public,” Axel said calmly.

Jocelyn blushed. She hadn’t thought of it like that.

“But please, at least let me put on some bloomers,” she begged.

“But that would be so unseemly,” he quoted her and gave her an iron smile.


Jocelyn nervously licked her lips and surveyed the expanse of land behind the house that would one day be hers. Well today she felt a long way from being lady of the manor, she thought ruefully.  She heaved a hard sigh that almost turned to fresh sobbing.

Only yesterday she had stood here congratulating herself for outsmarting her father. Now she was in the same attire only sans culets and without breeches, and with a very tender red bottom hanging in the breeze. She had tried to ignore the snickering of the maids as she had left the schoolroom. Thank God they did not know that for more than an hour prior to her being dismissed she had stood with her nose to the corner like a juvenile. A fresh blushed suffused her face at the memory.

Her protest at the childish treatment had been met with another serious spanking threat and the promise that corner time could always be moved to the main staircase where everyone would see her. After that, the seam at the corner of the room school room had accepted her nose as readily as it had when she had last submitted it aged 10.

For more than an hour she had stood in a silent room while no doubt Axel Dalliance had regarded her very bare and very sore bottom in triumph. Now dismissed for her afternoon constitutional she faced another baptism of shame.

Thrice around the cinder path was almost a mile and unless she ran it would take perhaps 20 minutes to complete. It was unlikely that in that time the gardener’s boy would not see her shame. She blushed upon the first flush and felt her ears burn. Compared to him and Jarvis, the old man himself, sniggering maids would be nothing.

Oh well, she thought with a sigh, it is a far, far better thing I do… her nose found the air as readily as it had earlier found the corner and with her best haughty pose she took her first stride. The Ladies’ League for Trousers never faced such adversity, she would be bound.

Each step upon the hard ground made her bottom flare with pain. A surreptitious exploration with her fingers revealed some real heat and she winced as her fingernails scraped skin. Damn the man, damn the man and dog poo, the bastard, how dare he do this to her, how… the very nerve of the man.

Such was Jocelyn’s rage that she almost forgot that she was half naked behind, but thankfully, she was pretty damn sure neither of the men had seen her this day. Now all she had to do was fix Mr Dalliance and put herself back on top where she belonged.


That evening Jocelyn was permitted to go to her room without supper. Dinner would have been a trial, not least because Jocelyn could not contemplate sitting upon a hard dining room chair. But she still had no sensible dresses or even petticoats and while she had taken a tour of the garden all of her bloomers and breeches had been taken away leaving her only with the backless skirts she had so recklessly furnished herself.

Now she lay face down on her bed fuming at the injustice of it all and plotting revenge. But how did one get revenge on an iron man. She chewed a rueful lip as she remembered his paddle hand and iron will.

“Iron hand, iron heart and God damn his iron will,” she cursed. “I hope he bloody rusts.”

As she said it she remembered the time she had put a water bucket on her governess’s door. That had been funny enough, but mostly without consequence, but what if…?

Jocelyn ginned and with a riot of laughter and she rolled over in glee. Her mirth was momentarily cut off as her eiderdown scraped bottom. But she was undaunted. She had a plan. No she had a good plan. She would show him.

It was too late that night to find a suitable bucket and she would need to consider how to place it with some care. But now she had a plan she was happy to sleep.

But slumber came slowly and she found herself thinking on Axel’s cruel visage and wondered how he might once have looked. She thought about his hand and the relentless power of it that was so bitingly intimate with her. Over and over the events of the day played out, rearranging events in her mind… her nude upturned bottom… his wicked smile… his hand… and his… my God was that iron too?

The morning came suddenly and for a long moment Jocelyn could not remember where she was or what the day held for her. Then she remembered her Iron Governor and her humiliating afternoon constitutional around the garden.

Before that she had to report to the schoolroom with her bottom still displayed to sit, or more likely still, to stand in boredom or reading a book while he lorded-it over her. She sighed. She could always take up his offer of lessons, she thought, it might actually be fun.

But no, he was the enemy and accepting tuition would represent her defeat. Besides, she had a plan.


In many ways Axel Dalliance was a superman. His steam-borg enhancements made him stronger than most men and he had other skills too. His mechanical right eye, for instance, had a greater optical range than his natural one, being both telescopic and moderately microscopic. Other quick small adjustments could filter out ultraviolet or reveal certain light frequencies to him, like polarisation.

However, there was no doubting that even he had his limits and at the end of a long day his ravaged muscles and bones could ache and he was definitely prone to slowing down. So it was this evening as he clanked stiffly up the back stairs to his rooms. For once he certainly needed to get to his bed.

The fact that his door was ajar puzzled him, but he was too tired to think about it. No doubt one of the maids had left it after clearing his room. It wasn’t until he heard the scrape somewhere above his head as he entered that he became alarmed.

The metal bucket clashed hard against the plate in his skull and he feared for the delicate lens of his eye. Then the cascade of water sloshed him even more bitterly with its icy chill.

“Uh,” he gasped and already recoiling the now wet floor slid from under him and he crashed to the floor.

His frantic attempts to gain his feet caused him to become entangled in the now sodden rug that had been just inside the door. His chief fear was for his eye and abandoning the struggle to get up he ran it through its settings and back.

Then a horrified thought seized him. Had one of his enemies made an attack? From nearby he could hear people running and he vainly frisked about for his sword or pistol before remembering that they both in his trunk.

Then he saw the bucket hanging on a makeshift rope and someone was laughing.

“Are you alright Sir,” the maid was asking.

He looked at her angrily unaccustomed to seeing her in her nightgown. “I’m fine,” he said.

“What on Earth happened?” she asked in concern and moved to help him.

Another laugh was not her and Axel frowned.

“Oh I have an idea,” Axel muttered.


Jocelyn had been surprised to find Axel in the schoolroom as usual at nine and was glad that she had arrived on time to throw off any suspicion. Not only was he here, but he looked none the worse for wear.

“I heard about your mishap,” she said innocently. Jocelyn had taken to keeping her back to the wall on account of her nudity behind. She wasn’t yet used to the exposure and even the hope that Axel was damaged did not detract from her continued embarrassment. “I do hope you weren’t hurt.” Her expression bordered on a smile and gave her words over to being a lie.

“Not in the least,” Axel said with a casual firmness.

“Oh, I thought you might have been suffering from rust?” Jocelyn offered pertly with a smirk.

“Oh no, where would I be if I was prone to the rain? Good alloys you see. I did have some concerns about my eye, but it had a lucky escape,” Axel said pleasantly.

Jocelyn felt a pang of guilt about his eye. To cripple a man with rust seemed comical, half blinding him now seemed like a mean act. “Wh-what happened?”

“Oh just an old governess trick, a damn reckless one when using a metal bucket, someone without an iron plate in their head could have been hurt,” Axel explained almost conversationally.

Jocelyn swallowed something down and rather hoped it was her unease. “I am sure… um, that whoever did it… well they didn’t think of that,” she answered now not meeting his eyes.

“Whoever did it?” Axel said pointedly, “I do hope that ‘whoever did it’ isn’t going to add lies to their crimes.”

Jocelyn opened her mouth to answer and then closed it again.

“I heard you,” Axel said bluntly.

“I just…” she bit her lip to stem any reckless confession. What exactly had she ‘just’? He might have been killed. Why hadn’t she just borrowed her father’s pistol and had done with it?

Axel waited, his right mechanical eye lightly whirring as it focussed on his errant charge.

Jocelyn frowned and made to stamp her foot in frustration. “Alright I did it,” she blurted and in childish defiance folded her arms.

“I know,” Axel sighed and then he reached out and rang for the maid.

Was he going? Jocelyn suddenly felt an inexplicable fear that she had driven him away. Was he calling the maid to pack his bags?

The answer came swiftly. Axel moved fast and lifted her like a doll. Then in one motion he pulled up a chair and as he sat he dropped a stunned Jocelyn face down into his lap.

For a second her chief concern was for her renewed exposure, her bottom still being bare behind, and she extend the back of her hands to cover her nude bottom cheeks. But Axel was having none of it and it was as nothing to take both her wrists in his left hand and pin them in his grip to the small of her back.

His right hand attachment today was slightly lighter than his standard fitting, but this one was coated in leather and had longer tapered fingers. A better sprung joint at the wrist would make it much more resounding than his day-to-day hand and much less bruising for what he had in mind. He meant this to be a very long and very hard spanking that poor little Jocelyn would never forget.

The crack splat of the impact had a tang to it, an almost metallic echo that rang back off the walls. That first sound reached Jocelyn’s ears a micro moment before the pain impulse reached her brain. Then a cutting sting embraced both rounds of her pert bottom at once.

Her eyes flew open and she gaped in horror as she processed the spank. But there was no time for that as in a blink he spanked her again and then again with the relentless determination of a machine.

It took to maybe six or seven spanks for her to gain her breath and then she let it go in a wail. A simple protest began in “no, no, no, no, noooo…” and ended in a howl. Within a minute she was so well spanked that it was beyond her understanding and her bottom was on fire.

By the time the maid arrived Jocelyn was bawling like a five-year-old and the shameful owner of a hot sore bottom that resembled two polished tomatoes. Axel’s hapless young charge would have died of shame had she been cognisant of her audience, but for the moment her world consisted entirely of his hand, her bottom and the devil given sting.

“Y-you rang Sir?” Masie the maid whispered.

The spanking paused and Axel turned his smiling attention to the woman in the doorway. “Yes, can you wait for a few minutes?”

“Eh… yes Sir,” Masie bobbed.

“Quite a few minutes I mean?” Axel amended.

The maid grinned. “Yes Sir.”

Axel resumed the spanking as Jocelyn kicked and squirmed while all the while bawling out her protests. It took a little while but eventually, she began to splutter, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over. By then they weren’t that far off the half way point and she was no doubt was very sorry.


Jocelyn was still sobbing hard as she was allowed to get to her feet, never had she felt so utterly defeated. Pain and acute embarrassment competed for her full attention and for a second the pulsing burn in her behind relegated all else. Then she saw that Masie’s professional calm demeanour, outwardly neutral, actually barely contained a mocking smile and embarrassment won out.

To compound this Axel barked, “Now my girl, will you be so good as to face the wall with your hands on your head?”

Miserably Jocelyn obeyed.

“You wanted me for something else?” the maid asked as if the well-spanked girl facing the wall was of no account.

“Yes, tell me is it still the custom to birch errant maids around her?” Axel asked.

The smile vanished from Masie’s face and she spluttered, “Why yes Sir,” and then visibly gulped as she wondered what she had done.

“The makings for a birch rod are collected from somewhere outside are they not?” Axel continued.

“Yes Sir.”

“You know the places?”

Masie nodded, still not knowing where the conversation was going.

“Return in one hour and escort our naughty little girl here to where a good rod or three can be obtained and show her how to prepare them,” Axel instructed.

Masie relaxed and allowed herself to smile as she enthusiastically said, “Yes Sir.”


Jocelyn looked like a hunted animal as she stepped onto the gravel at the side of the house. Frantically she scanned the bushes and lawn for any sign of the gardener and his boy, mindful too that the house servants had already been sneaking a discreet eyeful at her expense. She blushed fiercely.

The rasping hot sting in her bottom was in stark contrast to the cool of the garden air. It served to shamefully emphasise her exposed bottom in so public a place. It was humbling too to have to follow Masie to a place so mortifyingly associated with the discipline of the maids and anyone who saw them would know where they were going.

At the back of this was the imminent threat of a sound birching, no doubt carried out on her bare bottom and if the usual fate of the maids was anything to go by, it might well be a public event. Jocelyn’s eyes were pooled with supressed tears that the thought and having witnessed such a punishment she knew too that it would hurt and leave her skin grazed and raw.

The worse thing was, despite all her pride and protests, she could not supress the growing feeling that she thoroughly deserved her punishment. Axel had treated her no worse than he had been engaged to do and she had been more than just mean to him. She saw now that he might have been killed by her childish prank.

The idea that Axel Dalliance might be harmed suddenly filled her with dread. It was a curious thought that before this day she would not have entertained. But here she was in the garden shamefully exposed and on her way to collect birch rods for a much needed correction. The second idea blurted into her head and she blushed furiously. But there it was, when a girl had been so soundly spanked and exposed to the eyes of the world there were no longer any pretences.

Oh God, she thought as her teeth ruefully nibbled her lower, the man is a master of what he does. She knew that she had thoroughly been put in her place. Instead of anger, her heart raced at the idea and there was unusual churning in her tummy.

All this tumbled through Jocelyn’s mind as Masie led them ever deeper into the untamed woodland that abutted the garden. They passed a stand of silver birch trees, the white trunks of which seemed as glowing bars of a cage containing some leering beast deep in the shadowy recesses. Ahead there was a hazel tree with thin fingered branches pointing at her accusingly.

“Here it is,” Masie sighed. She had grim memories of her own. “Hazel makes for a better ‘birch rod,’” she said glumly, “Leastways that is what Cook says.”

Jocelyn eyed the bitter withes with a horrified fascination.

“Let me show you how to cut them Miss,” Masie said as she produced a small pair of secateurs from her pocket.


Three bound birch rods now sat in the self-same bucket of water that had been deposited on Axel’s head. A stuffed chair had been placed in the centre of the room and much to Jocelyn’s relief Masie had been dismissed. But before the she left Axel bid her wait and for one heart stopping moment Jocelyn thought she would be asked to watch after all.

“Do you have something to say to Masie?” Axel said.

Jocelyn frowned and her face coloured.

“Has she not shown you how to find and prepare these fine rods for your instruction?” Axel pressed her.

Masie was impassive and waited.

It was all Jocelyn could do to look up and meet her eyes, but at last she said, “Thank you Masie.”

The maid bobbed and turned to go.

“Ah,” Axel made a gesture with his hand and she paused. “For what are you thanking her?”

Jocelyn was momentarily confused and then she blushed. “Thank you Masie for helping me make some birch rods for… for my chastisement.”

Masie made a sympathetic face as she executed another quick bob and without waiting for further drama she hastened away.

“I suppose you are going to tell me I am a monster and that I am cruel and unjust?” Axel said sternly. His mechanical eye mad a small adjustment as he regarded her.

Jocelyn licked her lips as she shook her head, “No Sir, I know that my punishment is deserved.” She astonished herself with the honest humility of her words; it was almost as if someone else were speaking.

“Indeed,” Axel said in surprise and coked his good eye.

Jocelyn didn’t answer and dipped her gaze to the floor.

“Tell me, would you like to start again?” Axel said thoughtfully.

Jocelyn looked up and something like hope shone in her eyes.

“Your attire… do you still want to make a statement and wear breeches?” he asked. “Perhaps you would prefer something a little more appropriate?”

“Oh no Sir, I mean… yes Sir, I am so sorry…” she gushed, but her face was peony.

“I don’t intend to go easy on you, but we could dispense with the birching if you were willing say… to take up lessons again.” Axel let the words hang.

“Oh yes Sir,” Jocelyn nodded eagerly.

“I would give you a choice, to adopt some more appropriate clothing for a new start if you are agreeable. You would still be punished if you crossed me and I would be firm… but…”

“Yes Sir, oh yes please,” Jocelyn so wanted to be forgiven and she would do almost anything to escape the shameful petard she had been hoist upon.

“Very well,” Axel said, “Go to your room and tomorrow you will wear what Masie puts out of you and if our new arrangement is agreeable I will prevail upon your father to furnish you with a new wardrobe.”

“Oh thank you Sir,” Jocelyn made to hug the man but just stopped herself.

Axel coughed in embarrassment as he fended her off saying, “Until tomorrow then.”


That night Jocelyn dreamed she was lost in a deep dark wood. It wasn’t quite a nightmare, but the curious thing was that in the dream it was Axel she hoped would save her. Then strange twisted maid-like figures appeared, chasing her with birch rods and in her visons she knew that however bad the forest may be, the world beyond was so much worse. Then he came, a giant bigger than the house and scooped her up high above the trees and the whip-wielding women. Cupping in his hand he scolded her for getting lost. It was then that she remembered that she had no bloomers on and skirts that were open behind.

“I am going to spank you,” the giant Axel said.

Jocelyn wasn’t afraid, she knew she deserved it and now that she was safe.

The shush of curtains and a sudden burst of morning light shook her awake and Jocelyn rolled over blinking.

“I have laid out your things miss, you just have time for breakfast before meeting Mr Dalliance in the schoolroom,” Masie said cheerfully.

Jocelyn remembered the dream and blushed. Why should she turn to Axel if she was in danger and why would she welcome a…? The blush intensified and she was befuddled by the erotic aftermath of what she had dreamt. More strangely she felt a brief sense of loss.

Then she saw the clothes that had been laid out for her. The girlish blue sailor suit even had a floppy beret with a bobble on top. The skirt, she knew from her late childhood was obscenely short, and this one she recognised had been a little over the knee when she had last donned it at 14 or 15.

“Oh that man,” she cursed as she threw the hat across the room. Then she eyed the backless skirts of the dress she had taken off yesterday still hanging up to be cleaned. She supposed she could always appropriate the pale stockings and pantaloons from the sail suit and wear that, but it would be almost as ridiculous and would no doubt earn her another sound spanking.

Surely he won’t make me promenade around the garden this afternoon dressed like that, she thought in horror. Then she remembered that she had discarded all her grown up dresses during her rebellion and there would be no prospect of replacements for more than a week even if she were permitted any. The sailor suit was, she had to concede, better than the shameful alternative and it was after all her own fault.


“You are not really going to make me wear this?” Jocelyn pouted as she breezed into the schoolroom. She was barely 10 minutes late and Axel was already waiting.

“That is a perfectly respectable school uniform and since you have no other decent clothes I suggest that we adopt it for your lessons,” Axel replied in a dry voice. “In fact from now on you will dress this way each and every morning until after luncheon even after your new wardrobe arrives.”

Jocelyn was about to protest again but she couldn’t deny that it was her own fault she had only breeches and backless gowns to wear, besides for the moment there was a more important battle. “And until then?” she said.

“You will dress thusly morning, afternoon and in the evening,” he told her.

“But Axel,” she wailed.

“Sir or Mr Dalliance to you,” Axel barked.

“But Sir….” Jocelyn made a pout again.

“You have an alternative suggestion, and I warn you not to suggest breeches, I have had them all burned anyway,” Axel countered.

“No,” Jocelyn said sullenly.

“Good, now we have another matter to attend to,” Axel sighed wearily.

“Aren’t we going to start… this German and engineering malarkey?” she asked.

“I rather think that will have to wait until tomorrow now, this morning we must attend to your tardiness,” Axel told her.

“My…? But I was…” Jocelyn became coy and defensive, biting her lower lip.

“You are to be soundly spanked and sent to the corner for the remainder of the morning,” Axel informed her. “Take it with good grace and you will be permitted your afternoon exercise without further… shaming.”

Jocelyn could only gape, but she knew what further shaming might entail and after all, reluctantly she supposed, had been late. “Oh,” she miserably sighed.

The shame of baring her bottom again was far worse than coming pain, she thought as she was tumbled across his lap, a feeling that only intensified as her short sailor suit skirts and petticoat was raised off her cotton-clad behind. Last time she had already been bare by this point and had not had time to contemplate the humiliation, but now she blushed furiously as she felt a tug at her bloomers.

The shameful touch of air on her exposed behind made her gasp, but not for long. The first spank had a tang to equal a summer nettle and within three or four she had forgotten her embarrassment and was wailing like a child.

Her heavy breathing through clenched teeth gave her cries a grizzling sound and she kicked her heels in distress. But it was the dome of her bottom bore the brunt and her hot cherry cheeks sizzled under the onslaught of Axel’s spanking hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed, big tears now rolling down her face.

“I know,” Axel soothed, but his hand had rather less sympathy.

“”I’ll be good, I’ll be good,” she bleated and then actually boo-hooed.

“Are you going to go to the corner like a good girl?” Axel said at last.

“Oh yes,” Jocelyn said eagerly through broken sobs.

“Very well then,” Axel growled, “I want to see your nose tight to the wall and your hands neatly folded into the small of your back.”

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed.

“I think I’ll open this door and let in some air,” Axel said once she was humbly secure in the corner.

Jocelyn glared in horror into the wall, she just knew the maids would make gratuitous passes and giggle at her expense. Inwardly she groaned, but further complaint would only make things worse.


That night Jocelyn dreamed that she had been summoned to see her Iron Master. Only instead of the school room she was brought along to a huge hall where some kind of ball was in progress. Amid ladies and girls of her own age dressed in gowns, she appeared in her sailor skirt. The smirks and laughter were shameful but through it all there was an erotic air she could not throw off.

“Young lady you are late,” Axel said imperiously, “You must be spanked.”

“Yes Sir,” she replied and instead of embarrassment she felt quite giddy. “I know I deserve it.”

Amid eager chants and applause she was soundly spanked on the bare bottom in front of everyone.

“You must hate me now,” Axel said sadly as harshly he spanked her.

“Oh no,” she gushed, “I love you.”

Jocelyn awoke with a start and sat up. There was a young woman cloaked in a mess of cotton staring back at her from the mirror across the room. As stare as she may she could see no hint of herself in the image.


The woman dressed as a girl felt as one deposited on a strange shore. The sailor suit was ill-fitting and itched in all the wrong places. Had Jocelyn been required to wear it for her old life she would have died of shame, but now it seemed oddly appropriate for her new adventure.

The principles of modern steam engines were more interesting than she could have guessed and for three days straight she arrived in the schoolroom on time. Her first afternoon walking the grounds in the sailor suit was indeed embarrassing, but not as bad has the risk of exposing her naked posterior on former days and by supper time instead of shame felt liberation.

Ironically she was only late on the fifth day of the new regime because she suddenly remembered that her father had a book on steam power in his library and she had made a detour to fetch it. Of course Axel would accept no excuses and she quickly found herself turned over his knee with her bottom bared for a long sob-jerking spanking.

“I’m sorry Sir,” she sniffed as she executed an awkward curtsey before meekly going to the corner without being told.

So the days past, some in study and some banished to the corner after a sound spanking. Then each night she would dream of Axel Dalliance and his cruel ways punishing her beyond endurance.

Even when finally she was allowed to wear some grown-up clothes for her afternoon constitutional, she scarcely minded anymore. Although she could not admit it, even to herself, she wore them because Axel had told her too, and that gave her an odd thrill. The sailor suit was a badge of submission to him and she even missed it outside of the school room.

Like many new converts the tamed rebel began to embrace the idea of discipline. Punishments for a girl were a good thing, she decided, they made her a better person. Besides, at least she was no longer bored.

Jocelyn did not actively court a punishment, not to her mind anyway, but the daily risk of incurring Axel’s displeasure gave her life a hint of jeopardy. Another benefit of behaving was the small praise she sometimes gathered and when she was complimented it was hard won and she blushed, giving her a small warm glow that lasted for hours.

It had been foolish of her to flout the conventions of society in the face of her father’s displeasure. Of course he had objected and it was no wonder that he did not trust her to ‘come out’ as the world chose to call it. But she would show him.

Such thoughts rolled around in her head as she took her afternoon and with each step she reflected on her past follies. Most made her smile and she blushed to think of the gardeners getting an eyeful of her exposed derriere when she had been at her most defiant. But one past sin increasingly troubled and grew in her mind. How could she have thought Axel a monster? He had been a hero and a champion in adversity. He had conquered not only his charge, but misfortune as well. What a nasty rude and foolish girl she had been.

One day after class Jocelyn went to her room and changed into her most grown-up clothes. She was a woman now, even if she had not formally come-out and she wanted to appear such for what she had to do. Then in her best feminine armour, a grey bodice dress button tight to her neck, she made her way to the schoolroom where she knew Axel would be preparing for the next day’s lesson.

The hard wood door was unyielding on her knuckles and her heart pounded in her chest as she knocked and then waited.

“I don’t need anything,” Axel called from within.

“Mr Dalliance, Sir,” Jocelyn ventured hesitantly.

“Jocelyn?” Axel said from within, a moment later the door opened.

Axel Dalliance’s one good eye appeared pensive while the cool steel-glass of the other focussed on her with an unintended malevolence. Jocelyn could hear it whirring as it automatically sought an appropriate setting.

“C-can I… can I talk to you for a moment Sir?” she asked with a bite of her lower lip.

“Come in,” Axel said casually as he stepped away backwards and waved her in with a slight bow.

After the door closed there was an awkward silence and Axel bade her sit. Jocelyn refused wordlessly and inclined her gaze to the floor. The school desks were set out in rows as they had been in her father’s childhood, where generations of the Deveraux’s had sat before. They were now ready for another perhaps, her own children, she wondered.

“You have something to ask me perhaps… about engineering or was it mathematics?” Axel said patiently.

Jocelyn made a small shake with her head and swallowed hard. “No Sir,” she whispered.

Axel frowned and waited.

“Firstly, I… I want to thank you for… well everything,” Jocelyn blushed. “I am sorry I was so much trouble when you arrived.”

Axel allowed himself something of a smile and a small nod of approval. He was about to thank her gruffly for her words when she made to say more.

“I am sorry too for what I said about you… I-I,” she took a deep breath, “I called you a monster and other things… I…” she choked and realised that she might cry.

“We have had quite a journey together in such a short time… I think we have both learned…” Axel coughed. He was a monster, he knew it and she had been brave and stalwart. All was well and it was better left now, he thought.

“No, please, I am so ashamed, I was a beast,” Jocelyn was gushing now and there was an eager shrillness to her voice. “I…” she swallowed again and with a broken sigh she whispered, “I need you to punish me.”

“If you are so much as a minute late for class or show me disrespect then I will, but…” Axel offered gently.

Jocelyn cut him off. “Please listen, I feel so badly about what I said, you a good and kind man and… and…” she blushed and looked away.

“I am hardly kind,” he muttered.

“I deserve to be punished and soundly too, you know like you do… no worse, as bad as… I mean as good as you have ever given anyone… I probably need more than just a good spanking… have the maid fetch a good birch rod or have me do it…” she gushed. “Maybe you should cane me,” she added.

“I have a good mind to do it too,” he chuckled, “But I think my work is done. I can see you have really learned your lesson.”

“Oh don’t say that, I am still a very bad girl, really I am,” she wailed.

“Thank you for coming to me, your apology is accepted,” he said, “Now I have some work to do.”

“Yes Sir,” Jocelyn sighed.

Axel gave her that half smile of his and opened the door for her in the spirit of indulgence. Jocelyn, who ought to have felt better nodded and reluctantly followed his lead. Only when the door closed firmly behind her did she feel utterly wretched.

She took no more than three steps before she knew what she had to do.


The second knock at Axel’s door was an unwelcome interruption. He had hoped to get his letter off and prepare the next day’s lesson in time for a walk before his evening meal while it was still light. He was about to tell whoever it was to go away when the door opened.

Jocelyn looked flustered but quickly composed herself.

“I am really sorry Sir,” she said breathily as if she had been running. “I went to fetch this,” she added and held out her arm.

The hairbrush was her own, a short stout affair of polished black wood.

“Jocelyn…” he began.

“Please Sir… I…” her eyes teared up.

“Alright, but I won’t need that,” he growled.

To Jocelyn’s surprise he rang for the maid and a thousand bats took flight in her tummy. Was he going to have the maid fetch a rod and birch her? Her eyes were wide with horrified fascination.

Masie came quickly but did not hide her surprise at finding Jocelyn there at this time.

“Ah good,” Axel said absently without looking up from a pretended interest in his letter. “Your mistress here needs a good spanking and I will attend to it in due course. Meanwhile, take some pins and adjust her skirts behind so that they are pinned to her waist. Oh and you may as well take her bloomers to the laundry, she won’t be requiring them again today.

“Sir,” the answer had the tone of an unasked question and the maid shot a quizzical look at Jocelyn whose face glowed red.

Jocelyn would rather have kept the matter between them but perhaps she deserved some shaming. Then she chided herself, no she definitely deserved some shaming.

Masie executed a quick bob and left the room for a moment. When she returned she held a small sewing box and with a matter-of-fact shrug she knelt behind her young mistress and one by one began pinning up her skirts. Once Jocelyn’s cotton clad bottom was exposed and all the skirts and petticoats were pinned to her waist, the maid quickly and efficiently tugged at the ties and pulled the bloomers down to bare her legs and bottom to casual exposure.

“You may go,” Axel said once Masie had completed the operation, “And you Miss Deveraux may go and stand in the corner with your hands firmly on your head until I am ready to deal with you.

“Yes Sir,” both women said in unison, a coincidence that caused them both to exchange a red-faced glance.

By the time Masie had made to leave Jocelyn was already standing with her nose firmly in the corner and still nursing a vivid blush.


“So you truly wish to make amends do you?” Axel addressed Jocelyn’s neat tapered back and exposed pert bottom which was still ensconced in the corner.

“I think I… I deserve to be punished for all of those awful things I said,” she ventured.

“But you were punished,” Axel chuckled, “Don’t you remember? And soundly too.”

“Yes but…” the heat rose to her face and she sighed. “Oh this is so… oh, oh…” she ducked her head in shame. “I was yes, but I wasn’t sorry, not really, I just resented it… so it didn’t really count,” she offered.

Axel nodded. “You think I won’t spank you properly if you ask and say you’re sorry?”

Jocelyn swallowed hard. She partly hoped that was so, but in truth she would have been disappointed if he went easy on her, it would be a mark of weakness on his part, or so she thought.

“You wish me to squirm in shame, I know I deserve it,” she whispered.

Axel shrugged and took pity then. “Very well,” he agreed and wondered if he wasn’t going to enjoy this.

“Come here and across my knee,” he growled, “Make yourself comfortable for you will be here a while.”

In forlorn resignation Jocelyn peeled herself from the wall and as a woman condemned she trudged across the school room to the lap of doom.

Axel’s thighs were iron hard and she felt herself pinned securely so that for a moment she felt safely ensconced in a safe haven. Then she remembered her bare bottom still exposed to his gaze and her heart raced. Even the measured pat of his hand stung her bottom and she gasped.

Then the first true spank blasted down with an enduring burn and her eyes flew open wide. There was no time to consider the tingle of fire or the tang of the impact of his leather-coated metal hand, for with the relentlessness of a steam piston, his arm swept down again and stung her more. Had she retained the coolness of mind she might have gauged that the spanking continued with a meticulous 43 swats a minute, but the overwhelming sting burned away such reckoning and Jocelyn howled like scalded banshee with wails that could be heard the house over.

Axel held her fast as she strained under the onslaught, dispassionately watching as her cool white flesh prickled taut with 10,000 goosebumps as first it went pink and then darkened to a pure strawberry.

Jocelyn for her part bawled like a sorry sister of shame as tears streamed down her face and broken apologies stuttered impotently from her lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed as searing minute followed minute and the two hot spheres of her bottom were put far beyond sitting for many days to come.

Five or 10 minutes is an overstretched age for a girl when she is getting a good sound spanking so the heavens only knew how long 20 or even 30 minutes was to her. This spanking lasted so long that throughout the house wherever Jocelyn’s cries could be heard the maids had long stopped smirking and exchanging grins and had felt their own bottoms tighten in sympathetic dread. If their young mistress could be spanked so, then it did not bode well for their own tender behinds.

Jocelyn herself had long since abandoned hope that the spanking would end and wondered if it would have been less punishing to sit upon a bed of coals.

“Now young lady, I trust you are sorry?” Axel said at last.

“Oh yes Sir, truly, truly,” she gushed through her snot-nosed cascade of tears. She would have done anything then to be allowed to rub her bottom and would have done it twice if she could only sit in a bucket of ice.

She had not yet seen it, but her bottom was as two polished cherries just then and the caress of a feather would have been as torment to her.

“Now my girl, you ask to be punished. There is a principal at stake and for the remainder of this afternoon you will stand in the corner with your hands upon your head. If you so much as dare take your nose from that wall or attempt the least fumble of a rub of your bottom, so help me I will spank you again so that you will think that this last correction is only play pats.” Axel’s tone was so rich with menacing command that Jocelyn could not dream of defiance.

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed. Her hands fluttered in futile proxy and she stamped her feet in a vain attempt to shake out the sting. Careful what you ask for, she thought miserably. “Yes Sir,” she said again and he thought she might renew her crying. Nevertheless, as she took up her pennant vigil she felt cleansed of all sin and finally forgiven.


“A remarkable change, remarkable,” Lord Deveraux said enthusiastically.

Jocelyn stood demurely before him with her head inclined to the floor, the picture of a respectable young woman. “Yes Sir,” she said dutifully.

“Well I suppose I can see no further impediment to your coming out next month, none at all,” her father continued to enthuse.

“No Sir,” Jocelyn agreed without particular joy.

Coming out and being presented at court was all she had dreamt of for years. It was the mark of becoming a woman and her childhood years would be banished forever. But with that change Axel would leave them and she couldn’t bear it.

“I expect you will want a new gown and…” Jocelyn barely listened to her father’s plans and continued to play her part as a well-trained woman. “And I suppose you will want a husband…” her father continued.

For some reason an image of Axel popped into her head. She pictured herself on his arm as a tutor’s wife or perhaps the headmaster’s wife or… she blushed, giddy with insight.

“Are you alright Jocelyn,” her father asked solicitously.

She perked up then and with a faux smile quickly responded, “Oh yes father, quite.”

With barely a pause to ring for tea her father resumed his discourse and Jocelyn could only smile and nod between meek offerings of ‘yes sir.’


Axel was almost packed when she found him. Visits to his room were strictly verboten and she half expected a scolding. But if he had spanked her she would hardly have cared, not today.

“You are really going then?” she said quietly.

“My work here is done,” he shrugged.

“But my mathematics, my modern engineering appreciation… surely…” she protested.

“Young women don’t need such disciplines, or the German, not that I object. Those lessons were merely a device and you know it.”

She did and drew her mouth into a pensive line. “But I quite enjoyed them, really I did. I have some books… I have even read them,” she pressed him.

“There are women’s colleges,” Axel offered unenthusiastically.

“But couldn’t we…?” Jocelyn sighed.

“Couldn’t we what?” Axel growled and with an angry flurry began folding the last if his clothes for the trunk.

“I love you,” she said simply.

He froze and for a moment his prosthetic eye worked vigorously as if struggling to focus on something just beyond his gaze. Then as if she hadn’t spoken he finished his packing.

“Did you hear what I said?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“We could elope,” she said. “I’ll soon be 21 and I will have my own money.”

“You have money do you?” he rounded on her. “Is that what you think of me? And what of your father’s trust?”

“Don’t you love me?” she asked.

He softened as much as an iron man ever could. His nod was small and one could have almost missed it.

“Is there no hope, no hope at all?” Jocelyn was almost crying now.

Axel Dalliance then found himself and stood erect. He was her master again and she his student.

“What do you want from life?” he asked.

“You,” she answered.

“What do you really want? What is it that I represent?” his gaze was fixed on her now.

She felt for a moment as if he was testing her and failure would earn her a spanking.

“I… I don’t want to be another shire wife, I don’t want…”

“What do you want?” he pressed her sharply.

“I want what I do to matter. I want there to be a consequence if I fail… I want to see the world you showed me… above all, I want you and all the things I…” she stopped.

“I represent danger and the exotic. I offer some of what you want, but look at me? I am no ordinary man. I am both less and more than a man. You love me or think you do, but you are young…”

“Give me a chance,” she urged.

He paused and considered.

“If you do not want the life mapped out for you, then chose another. There are indentured opportunities in the city. Some industries even take girl apprentices I hear and a well-spoken girl with your education might gain a clerical post. If you become other than you are and see the world then… then perhaps a few years from now…” Axel’s voice carried urgent conviction.

“Will you write? Will you let me…” she was crying now.

“I think you will meet a young man and forget all about me,” he chuckled. “But if you want to write and if you still feel the same in two or three years…” He shrugged, “Well who knows…”

“I’ll do it,” she said with an emphatic nod.

“That is up to you,” he shrugged again. Then he paused, his prosthetic eye whirring as if trying to focus on a world yet to be. “Find a whole man, someone younger, but if you want to write…”

There was nothing left to be said and after a fashion he smiled.


Jocelyn Deveraux was scarcely recognisable. On top she was tightly bodiced to bursting point, her piled-high hair tucked under a riding hat complete with new-fangled googles. It was quite the vogue among the younger set and might have escaped notice had it not been for the tight worsted breeches that accentuated her curves.

Once a rebel, she thought with a smile, if Axel could see me know he would so spank me. She let her teeth test her lower lip at this thought and glanced around to see if a passer-by would guess. Seeing no one she snorted derisively at herself and then set about finding the turn for her appointment.

Marley and Dexter had advertised for a clerical assistant in their shipping department. The notice in The Times had promised young ladies would be considered by ‘this progressive go-ahead company,’ but that any young woman applying could ‘expect to accept traditional apprentice discipline.’ Jocelyn knew what that meant, she ruefully pondered. But she was ready.

“Axel Dalliance, I love you,” she sighed and then put her best foot forward.

Part I here

Alice felt like a shy teenager when Adam had looked at her and amid blustered blushes she suddenly found something of pressing interest in the barber shop window. That was until she realised what she was doing and turned back.

The two men were no longer looking at her and were crossing the street to the diner like extras from Reservoir Dogs. They probably have rotten teeth and hunt ‘coons for a hobby, she thought wistfully, as if the running them down might make them more obtainable. Then she remembered who they were. Damn, I have to quit acting like this.

A woman was looking at her with a look of irritated puzzlement on her face. Alice realised that she was obvious enough without lollygagging on street corners and looking into men’s barbers.

“Oh ma’am,” Alice said smoothly as she touched her hair, “Do you know where I might get a coffee?”

The woman relaxed as if the request restored normality. “The barber hands out coffee to the menfolk sometimes, but you would get a better cup at Red’s across the way,” she said and pointed to the diner.

Alice smiled and nodded with her thanks and as nonchalantly as she could, she strolled across the road to where she had seen the two Stone brothers heading.

I just need a coffee and I have legitimate business with their father, what could be more natural than that? Alice rehearsed her motives in her head, all the time unaccountable butterflies danced in her tummy.


Stacy Dane made no show of noticing, but she watched the two men enter the diner like a hawk. She had been in town over a month now and had realised right away that playing it cool was the way to go. Once people got used to her hanging around they began to relax and Stacy got to learn more.

The stone brothers were sex on legs, and what legs, she inwardly whistled. Nevertheless, apart from that there was nothing at all unusual about them. She watched as they took a seat in the window, noting that Nancy almost broke off from refilling a customer in her eagerness to attend to them. Was it fear or deference? Stacy pondered. Perhaps she just fancied her chances?

The two men ordered black coffee, declining the offer of pie and a Danish, Stacy noted. Looking at their physique, there was nothing unusual about that either. Not for the first time she wondered if she were crazy and if the rumours could be remotely true.

As she mulled this over she made doodles of crosses and coffins in the margins of her newspaper, extending one with a shadow to form an outline of a man. Then realising it was way too close for comfort, she scribbled over it and changed the pattern into a cobweb.

The woman who followed the Stone brothers in was a stranger and it didn’t take Hawkeye to know that she was totally focussed on the same quarry. She was tall and smartly dressed with a green business skirt-suit that suggested money. The hair was a little uptight, devoid of split ends and a healthy red-brown; it was immaculately poised on her head like a helmet as if she were dressed for battle. She had a nice ass too, Stacy noted, money and looks, she thought bitterly.

Stacy watched as the woman picked an empty central booth directly across from brothers while she so obviously ignored them.

“With you in a moment ma’am,” Nancy said without looking.

Alice acknowledged the waitress with a nod and pretended to peruse the laminated menu on the table. She couldn’t help notice that a handful of diners were more interested in the Stone men rather than a stranger. Not getting noticed was something she wasn’t used to, not even in the city. It wasn’t just the women either; most of the men were casting uneasy glances at the brothers.

The only exception was a young woman sitting in the corner who was engrossed in her newspaper. Beneath the eyeglasses and an ill-fitting grey beret she appeared quite pretty. Although it was obvious to Alice that non-descript dark blonde hair was not used to being pampered and the large blue sweater and jeans had both been patched.

Alice and Stacy weren’t the only ones people-watching. John had perked up the minute the lawyer had walked in the room and if it hadn’t been for his brother he might have shown an interest. Who was she, he thought, as he surreptitiously looked her over? His instincts were good and he was pretty sure that the woman was sizing them up too, just like the other newcomer in town who always took a corner seat. Only she was much less obvious.

“Is that grungy girl in the corner still checking us out?” Adam said once Nancy had gone to get their order.

His brother’s instincts were better than his when it came to outsider folk, but any strangers were always a potential threat.

“Oh yeah,” John drawled without looking at her. “So is the new girl.”

“Any fool could see that,” Adam snorted, “She doesn’t worry me, she is way too obvious.”

“A looker though,” John said with a smirk. That was an understatement, he thought, amazed that his brother wasn’t more interested himself.

“Not bad for a spoiled city girl I suppose,” Adam shrugged. “It is the other one that worries me.”

John refrained from risking a glance, but his senses told him his brother might be right. The train of thought was interrupted by the redhead in the smart clothes.

“Did I hear someone say that you are Garrick Stone’s sons?” Alice said pleasantly, her lips formed a light pout before showed the two men a measure of her perfect teeth.

“I have no idea what you heard someone say,” Adam said sharply without even looking at her.

John gave his brother a look of irritation and then slipped into a boyish smile, “It is a small town,” he said as he turned to take a closer look at the woman, “How is it you know our father?”

“Oh I don’t,” Alice said smoothly and smiled back. “I am from out of town, but I have business with… sorry, actually I have to be discreet, but it involves your father,” but showered most of her attention on John.

“The old devil,” John joshed her, “And what business is that?” He moved up a seat so that he sat next to the aisle closer to Alice. “I’m John Stone by the way,” he added, offering his hand.

Alice took it, but her attention remained on Adam. “Alice… Alice Eden,” she purred.

Adam shot her a sideways glare. “We aren’t buying and we are not selling,” he growled.

“My brother is Adam, ignore him, he isn’t used to beautiful women,” John said quickly.

Alice made a professional laugh and reluctantly gave John her attention.

“I don’t think Ms Eden is so easily flattered,” Adam grunted.

“No, but I appreciate good manners,” Alice snapped back and forced a warm smile in John’s direction.

“Hey, why don’t I show you the town?” John said brightly.

“She can look out of the window can’t she?” Adam muttered.

“What about a drink later down at the Shack?” John pressed her, now ignoring his brother.

“Maybe… after I meet your father,” Alice said carefully.

“Lady, I told you we are not buying what you’re selling so move on,” Adam’s voice was hard with menace now and despite his rudeness Alice felt an odd pang in her belly. Always the bad boys with you isn’t it, she chided herself?

John made another attempt to interject, but his marginally older brother silenced him with a hand.

“Look, I only want…” Alice began.

“Tell me Ms Eden,” Adam cut her off, his reluctant attention had swivelled itself on to her now and she felt uneasy. “Has any one ever turned your precious pretty tail across their knee and spanked your spoiled little bottom for you?”

There was some laughter in the room, but Alice could only gape at the man as her jaw hit the floor.

“Ma’am,” Nancy had come back with a tray of coffee for the men, but she had moved between the Stone’s and her newest customer now. “Maybe you had better sit over in back?”

“Hey, she’s cool,” John protested.

A red-faced Alice was still bristling and ready to give as good as she got.

“I mean ma’am, in this town there ain’t no one who’s gonna see nothing or say nothing where Mr Stone is concerned…” Nancy said as she made eye contact.

“Fine,” Alice angrily snapped and snatching up her purse moved away.

“Why did you have to go and do that?” John hissed.

“It is full moon in less than a week and now we have two strangers in town,” his brother replied. It was answer enough and they both knew it.

To be continued…

Vintage Sunday


Part one here

Alice Eden leaned back against the diner wall and looked up at the Montana sky with a groan. All she had to do to complete the probate work on the Stephens estate was get three crumby signatures and then she was out of this dump. Dr Anderson had been pleasant enough. He had promised her that there would be no problem, but to leave the papers with her for his own lawyers and he would get back to her.

Mrs Dangerfield had taken a week to find her reading glasses, all the while making it clear that she was suspicious and wary of outsiders. Then after taking another age to read every last word she too had insisted on passing it on to her own lawyer.

However that had not been the real sticking point. The third signature was needed from a rancher called Garrick Stone, but a simple inquiry to the hitherto cooperative Dr Anderson had gotten her a strange response.

“Yes I know him,” the good doctor had replied, his demeanour now reticent. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Bateman Stephens stipulated that Mr Stone and yourself had to sign off on these particulars before we can dispose of the property, it is just a formality,” Alice said easily.

“I make it my business to stay out of Garrick’s. He doesn’t like visitors and he doesn’t mix much with the townsfolk,” the doctor had muttered.

“But where can I find him?” Alice had pressed him.

“Around,” Dr Anderson had shrugged, adding with a tone of finality, “Good day.”

Most people around town had claimed not know Stone and those that admitted an acquaintance had refused to talk.

“This is crazy,” she breathed and rolled her eyes. As if to add to her loss of composure a strand of her otherwise immaculate auburn hair flicked over her face to itch her and she blew at it like a sullen teen before she caught herself and brushed it away.

Then she saw them and her heart stopped for the longest tenth of a second in the short history of her life. The car was a beaten up once red 4×4 pick-up. The roll bar even held an empty gun rack like a million others. But the two men exiting the truck seized her gaze as in something like slow motion as they gathered their considerable height like two primeval predators.

It took a moment to realise that they were so similar in the face that they could be the same man. However, one was rugged in a working shirt and wore his hair long. The other, more cruel in his outward appearance wore his hair close cropped and was sleek all over in Levis and a figure hugging tailored motorcycle jacket.

“Who are they?” she said breathily.

“Those are the younger Stone brothers,” the girl who was clearing cups from the sidewalk tables said in a tone of awe.

Alice shook herself, “Stone? Garrick Stone’s sons?” she guessed.

The girl frowned, she knew better than to discuss Garrick. “So they say,” she muttered and moved away.

Alice was still gaping like a candy-struck teen when the long-haired Stone turned his gaze towards her and offered up an easy smile. Following his brother’s gaze the hard-edged one looked at her more piercingly and Alice broke eye-contact.


The morning had dragged slowly and the red tang in the girl’s exposed bottoms had eased enough so that experience had become more embarrassing than painful. Lana had taken to shifting her weight to one hip and her elbows had dropped so that her hands were now pressed to the sides of her head.

Keri was more attentive to the drill, being much too scared now to defy Garrick in any way. At each unseen footfall her face glowed and she pressed her head into the barn wall as she wished herself elsewhere.

It was still too shaming to be boring, but most of the others had now drifted away to go about their day and only the occasional wolf-whistle from one of the passing men reminded them they hadn’t been completely forgotten.

“Come on, how much longer?” Lana groaned under her breath.

Talking was verboten and Keri cringed. Her friend had a knack of getting them both into trouble. She could only pray that Augusta or Garrick hadn’t heard. Not that she had any way of telling if they were nearby as her own nose was firmly rooted the barn wall and would stay there until she had been dismissed.


Melanie wanted to rage at Jared, how dare he tell her how to cut her hair? Instead she made a pout of her gloss-red lips and ran an agitated hand through her shorn blonde locks. Her husband regarded her with much the same expression he reserved for the men after a misdirected hunt or some other failure.

“It is just a haircut,” she said in a tone of impatient exasperation and defiantly folded her arms.

Rain sucked in her cheeks to hide a smile and carefully stood up before glancing at the door. Melanie was playing this all wrong, she thought.

Jared narrowed his eyes so that his brows nearly met. He already towered over both women, now he seemed to get bigger.

“Well it is,” Melanie said nervously and averted her eyes.

“A Thursday night special is just a haircut, just like a Sunday mow of the lawn is just a grass cut,” Jared’s voice had a dark edge and was leaning on his second best menace. “This,” he spat jerking a finger at her head, “Is a massacre.”

Melanie coloured and thought about mocking his clumsy analogy. Words weren’t his strong point. But in truth she regretted her impetuous new look and she had known as soon as she looked in Betty Samson’s mirror that she was in shit with Jared.

“So you said,” she muttered and met his glare with one of her own. One day she might be the Alpha female of this crew, she didn’t have to take shit from Jared over a haircut. Their eyes met for a minor geological age before she finally surrender her gaze to the carpet. “Look, you spanked me already, remember,” she sighed.

“Yes and you had it coming and a hell of a lot more besides,” he barked at her and then swung about to face the wall, which he pounded suddenly with a steady fist. Then letting out a slow breath he wearily said, “I can scarcely beat my point into you.”

Melanie was about to spit in his face. His point was an ascetic one, not that he could spell it. She had shown some independent spirit and challenged his ownership of her. But she knew that wasn’t fair. Long hair was not only a mark of status among their kind; she knew he loved her white gold tresses, just as he revelled in Rain’s jet mane. As for ownership, well that ship had long since sailed. Some days she still could not believe that she shared her man with another, but it was the way of things and it was what she had signed on for. She rolled her eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry okay, I totally screwed up. I probably only did it to piss you off,” she admitted and looked off to the side, embarrassed by her admission. When he didn’t answer her she whispered, “You’re going to spank me again aren’t you?”

He turned his head and studied his spirited wife in amusement. “I think you know that I am,” he chuckled, finally lightening the mood.

“As much as I would love to see the fireworks I think I had better go,” Rain said as she pulled a face and slipped away.

Melanie had given up fighting for now, she had long since learned that apart from when he had to defer to his father, for Jared it was his way or nothing. She worked her tongue in her mouth and swallowed. “Did you mean what you said before?” she asked, apprehension gently settling on her face.

“What was that?” Jared said casually, half-ignoring her as he stripped off his biker jacket. His cotton-clad barrel chest now tapered to a tight waist and his broad leather belt. The latter held Melanie’s attention.

“Th-that you would spank me every day until my hair grew back,” again she worked her tongue in a dry mouth and fixed her eyes on the wolf’s head buckle of his belt.

“I was mad,” he snorted, “Not that you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t,” she blurted in dismay, “I mean… I am sorry okay.”

Jared cocked a single stern eye brow and gave her a one eye glare. Then seeing her dip her head in submission he muttered, “That’s better.”

“Sorry,” she said again, her voice barely a whisper.

Jared nodded. He hated that she had cut her hair and he hated it even more that he was so mad about it. Such trivia should be beneath him and there were other ways he could have displayed his displeasure. He knew he was a brutal man, it was part of his nature, but there was a line when it came to women and he was afraid he had already crossed it. The trouble was there was no way he could easily back down.

“Are you afraid of me?” he growled more harshly than he had meant to.

Melanie shook her head without looking up and then shrugged. “Maybe a little,” she said.

“I mean…” he began, cursing himself for the lack of words.

Melanie looked up and met his eyes. “No, not like that, not ever.” Her tone was fierce and defiant.

Jared folded his arms and regarded her like a puzzle. The hair still made him mad, but for a moment he just wanted to hold her. To call back Rain and…

“It’s just…” Melanie ducked her head again and swallowed as the little girl returned. “It hurts… and… and… it will take a couple of years for my hair to grow back how it was…”

She was right and that realisation almost summoned the wolf in him. For a second his eyes flashed red a baleful and it was all he could do not to grab her and strip her. He would spank her alright… until his hand was blistered raw and she rued the day she had been born with a backside…

Melanie with her head still bowed, saw none of this in his face and as quickly as it had come he supressed it.

“Tell you what,” he said at last. “You think on it and when I get back if you can’t look me in the eye and say you don’t deserve it… then you will feel my belt, today and once a week until your hair… until your hair touches your collar.”

She looked up and nodded, her mouth forming the tight line of a smile.

“If you did this just to get…” he became angry again, “Just to raise some hell… then I put you on notice, while your hair grows back you had better behave or someone is going to be fetching some mean switches from woods instead of just a spanking.”

Melanie gaped at him and almost rebelled again, but Jared turned on the spot and rolled out of the room.

“Shit,” Melanie sighed.

To be continued…


The number of visits to this blog

  • 16,776,697 thanks