by Susan Thomas
Scenes of Domestic Discipline:
Book 1
by
Susan Thomas
All rights reserved
Copyright © May 2015 by Susan Thomas
Published by LSF Publications
http://www.lsfpublications.com/
Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. It includes adult spanking and some sexual scenes. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events are purely coincidental.
This first volume of stories by Susan Thomas, based around the common theme of domestic discipline, features the following stories:
Crossing the Line: A shy but attractive lady embarks on a Norwegian cruise featuring the entertainment theme of 'Crossing The Line' of the Arctic Circle, but with an exciting and unexpected twist. At thirty two years of age there were many lines in her life still needing to be crossed, but none more important than getting her first sound and thorough old-fashioned spanking. Unbeknownst to her, however, a handsome traveller from America, with a firm understanding of old-fashioned discipline, also happens to be on board.
Looking Forward to the Morning: Tired and stressed out at work, Sally McNeill decides to take a break and catches the ferry over to France to spend some time in a gite she has rented. Following a rude outburst on the ferry, an unknown gentleman threatens her with a spanking. And when, by coincidence, she later runs into the very same man on her bicycle, it looks like the threat may become a reality.
Conversation: Out for a walk on the moors, Jacob asks Sarah to marry him. Sarah hesitates at first, and when questioned, confesses that she is scared of being spanked by him, having seen how severe Jacob's father is with his family. Jacob assures her he is not like his father, and when Sarah confesses to having broken curfew some years ago, she agrees to let him spank her.
A Day at the Beach: A young teacher tells of her first adult spanking when, during a day out at the beach with her bossy, opinionated boyfriend, she throws a bucket of water over him!
Good Girls: Although never having experienced corporal punishment while growing up, three eighteen-year-old 'good girls' decide to take a holiday in Greece, followed by a year during voluntary work for the church in Africa, before going on to University. In Greece, when a party gets out of hand, disturbing the local farmer and his wife, all three girls end up getting punished with a switch. The narrator later describes the caning and strapping that she receives at the hands of the headmaster and a senior female teacher at the African orphanage where she is volunteering. Later, now enrolled at university, she finds herself participating in the Castigat Project, a self-improvement plan involving corporal punishment, and it doesn't take long before she finds herself subject to a bare bottom spanking, administered by her tutor and his wife.
Contents
Crossing the Line
Looking Forward to the Morning
Conversation
A Day at the Beach
Good Girls
Also by Susan Thomas...
Crossing the Line
As a passenger I was invited to a special "Crossing the Line" ceremony at 16:00. I had wanted a holiday with a difference, and this opportunity to take a cruise up the coast of Norway to the Arctic was it. This event was to celebrate crossing the Arctic Circle. For those taking part there would be a certificate. "But not for those of you who are too afraid" warned the Entertainments Officer. "King Neptune is very fussy about that."
I was, as usual, alone. I was only thirty-two and not at all unattractive, but incredibly shy. There had never been a real boyfriend; I was still a virgin, and worse in some ways, I had never been spanked. The first two made me feel freakish enough, but the third was my dark secret and growing obsession. I was intrigued by spanking and read every article and story I could find on the Internet. I also collected pictures from all the free sites, but did nothing that could give away my identity. I told myself that it was my job as a teacher that created this caution, but deep down I was afraid of meeting someone who would spank me, and that I would make a complete fool of myself. This cruise, although good in many ways, had made me feel more isolated and odd than ever.
We made our way in pairs and groups toward the dining room where the ceremony was to be held. I was on my own, of course, smiling and nodding at the groups, but never joining in. I hated the idea of having to step forward in front of everyone and perform some silly stunt. I thought that they would probably stick ice down our backs, but to my astonishment ice down the back was only a small part of it, and the first part had my heart hammering with excitement and indecision.
We were told how the ceremony would work. A special 'line' had been set up with three painted icebergs: the two gaps in between were the 'line' through which we must pass on our way to King Neptune. I was right - when we knelt before Neptune, ice would indeed be put down the back of shirt or blouse, but first we had to pass between the 'icebergs'. Men and women were separated; both sexes could chose the 'chicken gap' draped with wet seaweed but no more. There would be lots of boos and hisses for that choice. The other gap was a 'test of loyalty' to King Neptune. For men it was bobbing for apples in ice-filled water, for women (this really set my heart racing) it was to get spanked. A loyal subject would bend over and get spanked with a small replica boat paddle: one spank for loyalty, two spanks for extra loyalty, and three for those that King Neptune would really love.
I have never been so torn in all my life. I was so afraid of looking foolish, but here was an opportunity to get spanked legitimately. I would just be joining in the fun, and who would notice or care. The way it panned out, most of the older women took the 'chicken gap' and the younger ones showed loyalty with many giggles and gasps. One girl pulled her jeans down and took three on her knickers to great cheers and laughter. Her friend, not to be outdone, bared her bottom, and the paddle left big pink marks. As the queue shortened, I was in a dither - should I chicken with the older women or look silly with the younger. I decided to take the chicken gap and headed for it, but suddenly, at the very last minute, I switched and bent over for my test of loyalty. I really couldn't pull my skirt up, that was loyalty too far, but I wanted to very much indeed.
The first whack nearly knocked me over because I wasn't really ready. A huge sting spread across my bottom, but I stayed down to cheers from the crowd. I managed the second whack better because I was ready for it, and the sting warmed up and became warmer still with the third. It was over and I was a loved subject of King Neptune.
To cheers and pats on the back, I went to join the queue to bow before Neptune. I was flushed and shaking with triumph. I had done it, braved my shyness, and now had a stinging bottom. I felt wonderful and then suddenly I heard a voice behind me. "Well done. That meant a great deal to you, didn't it?" When I turned I discovered it was Craig, an American rediscovering his Norwegian roots. He was about six foot tall, lean and fit looking, with dark hair and very intense blue eyes. I believe he was in his late thirties and came from Los Angeles, but other than a few polite words I had never spoken to him. I tried to minimise what had happened, but he stunned me with what he said next. "I don't think so. I was watching you carefully and you wanted that a great deal. I think you would like to try more than that."
I was horrified at how he had seen through me. If I was that transparent, how many others might have seen my interest? After the ice down the back and the presentation of the certificate, I tried to lose him and escape to my cabin with my embarrassment. Craig was adept
at keeping me talking as he explained that many folk were interested in spanking and that it was no big deal if I were. He took my breath away with his offer. "If you want to go back to your cabin please go. I will come down in fifteen minutes and knock. If you want me to go I will, just tell me you are busy, but if you would like to try out a little 'over the knee' spanking open the door." I nodded and fled down the stairs to my deck and the safety of my cabin.
Over the knee! Over the knee! I was in such a state on reaching the cabin. I wanted that spanking so much but to let him in ... to lay across a man's knee ... to risk being a fool? I smoothed my skirt and tidied my hair to collect my thoughts. "Well he can't easily rape me or murder me on board a ship now can he? Why not, you took Neptune's spanking." Without thinking about it, I found myself putting on a fresh pair of my favourite knickers and giving myself a quick dab of perfume. I turned and faced the door with my back to the porthole. For some reason I found it helped to stand to attention, my stomach churning and my pulse on red alert. It seemed only seconds before he knocked. I opened the door.
He wasted to no time or words as he sat on the couch and asked me to lie over his lap. I kept my skirt in place and lay over his lap as requested. I wasn't sure whether I was ready for more than an over the skirt spanking. He began and I was very nervous and stiff. I'm sure you could have used me for a shelf I was that rigid. The spanking was very gentle and pleasant, and soon my bottom started to become pleasantly warm and I began to relax; this was nice. I was wondering why I had been so afraid when he asked me if he should raise my skirt. I agreed and felt my skirt lifted up slowly and sensually, exposing my knickers. I felt very vulnerable and became tense again as the spanking restarted. I was amazed at how much more it stung without my skirt for protection. The spanking increased in speed and intensity, and my bottom grew warmer, but I grew more relaxed. I could take it! I was not being stupid! It was wonderful!
Suddenly it was not enough. "Stop a minute, I want to stand up." He looked at me quizzically as I stood in front of him. "Please will you really spank me? A really hard bare bottom punishment type spanking."
"Are you sure about that? There is a big difference, it will hurt"
"Please," I begged. "I have never been this brave before. I really want to know what it's like."
"OK," he said, suddenly acting stern. "Kick those shoes off, get those panties down and get over my knee."
I did as I was told, and as I lay across his lap I made my most daring request of the whole experience. "Please Craig, really spank me hard. Spank me until I cry." He said nothing, but raised my skirt, exposing my bottom. I have read so much about the chill of exposure, but nothing prepared me for the feelings it gave me. I felt incredibly vulnerable, but more shocking than that was the tingling that seemed to start in my bottom and then radiate out up my back, down my arms and legs and into the most personal part of my body. I realised that I had become very aroused. With shock, I sensed that he too had become aroused, and then the first spank landed.
It landed on my right cheek and it really stung. It was followed swiftly by another and another, and the sting in my right cheek built up so much I began to jerk my legs and gasp at every smack. He switched to the left cheek and I was relieved, but not for long because the sting in the left cheek became so great, and I was really twisting on his lap. He stopped briefly and crossed his leg over both of mine, grasped me more firmly around the waist, and began again on the right cheek. "Ah, AH!" I cried. "Ow, ouch, please. Oh my!" The stinging grew worse and worse and the heat built up so much that there seemed no escape. I knew my legs were kicking up and down in that stupid way that until now I had thought just happened in fiction. I sensed from the freedom of my legs that my knickers had come off.
He seemed to smack each cheek about nine or ten times before moving on to the other and then back again. Suddenly, I couldn't cope, and I began to panic at the repeated blows and the unrelenting stinging and heat. It just grew and grew and suddenly I was crying. I didn't ask him to stop because I felt weak and stupid for breaking down so easily. He didn't notice at first, but then he stopped abruptly. He had me on my feet with my skirt back in place as I stood there rubbing my bottom gently and wiping away the tears with my hand.
He picked up my knickers and handed them to me, and as he did so I noticed that although my bottom was sore, the intensity of the stinging had stopped with the spanking. I was elated I had done it. I had taken a real hard spanking from a real man. Just as fast as the elation had come so it disappeared. Although my bottom was sore and hot it wasn't that bad. I was disappointed. I went to look in the long mirror, but realised he was watching me. Sensing my embarrassment he said, "Oh come on! I have seen it all already. Don't deny me the pleasure of watching your face as you inspect the damage." My desire to see my bottom overcame my shyness, and I lifted my skirt and checked it out. It was absolutely scarlet all over. I touched the right cheek. It wasn't actually as hot as it felt, although it was warmer than normal. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be! The disappointment washed over me - I knew I wanted more.
He looked at me with a curious expression on his face. "You know," he drawled "I think you are a natural. You want something harder, don't you?"
"Did I do all right?" I asked.
"You did real good," he replied, "but I think you want to go further. I have a strap in my cabin. Do you want to try it?"
The same tingling started all over. I felt curiously alive with all my senses working overtime. I could sense every detail of him: I noticed the smoothness of his skin, the strong line of his jaw, a small scar just above his eyebrow, the spicy scent of his aftershave, and the warm wool of his jersey. I sensed too that his arousal was matching mine. I knew I was living dangerously, but my desire overcame all. "Yes, please," I whispered. He left the cabin to get the strap. I touched myself 'down there' and flushed to think that he was probably aware of what was happening to me, but I could no longer worry about that, my desire for the strap was so strong. I splashed water on my face and brushed my hair. I noticed, with shock, that my knickers were on the dressing table. Was this behaviour really me?
He returned with the strap in a small holdall. He gave it to me, and I held it in one hand and smacked the palm of the other with it. It had quite a sting. It was about a foot and a half long and maybe two inches wide with a split down the middle. It was of lovely brown leather with a shaped handle decorated with stitching. I grew fearful again, but my desire to try it was strong. "Will you give me two hard ones to try?" I asked.
"Sure?"
I nodded. "I ought to be able to manage two."
"OK. Bend over that chair and hold on."
The chair was sturdy and heavy, I guessed in order to cope with storms. Well this was going to be a different storm. I bent over and held onto the front legs. I felt that delicious feeling of my skirt being lifted again. This time he started to rub his hand over my bottom gently and slowly. I had never been touched so intimately by a man before. It was so stimulating, and the tingling in every part of my body returned but much stronger than before. I could feel myself moving under his hand, almost rubbing myself against it. I felt like a purring cat. He removed his hand and I braced myself.
The blow when it came sent me almost over the top of the chair with shock and pain. Before I could get my breath the next was upon me, and I leapt up, grabbing my bottom. I rushed to the mirror and the marks of the strap were clear. There were the imprints of the two-tailed strap with white areas filling in between. The edges were raised. I was overwhelmed by a sudden desire to experience the real pain of being beaten with it. "Thrash me," I stuttered and he looked quite shocked. I didn't wait for an answer but pulled up my skirt myself and bent over the chair again.
"Twenty," he growled and wasted no time in beginning. How I stayed down the whole time I don't know. I didn't want to cry out, wanting instead to impress him with my stoicism. By the fifth I was sure that I was never going to make it to twenty. I seemed to be climbing up
over the chair and swaying from side to side to get my bottom out of the way of the remorseless blows. It was awful, and the sheer pain was made worse by the force of the blows, but I hung on wanting to know how far I could go. I knew I was making a strange sort of strangled scream at each lick, but I couldn't help it. Then it was over, and I stood up, holding my bottom even more carefully.
He came up and gently put an arm around my shoulder. I buried my head in his chest and cried with pain, relief and amazement. The tingling was back in force and seemed to be keeping time with the throbbing in my bottom. He gently stroked my hair and rubbed my back until I stopped crying. "I think," he said, grinning, "that you just crossed another line every bit as major as the Arctic Circle." He put the strap in the bag while I washed my face and brushed my hair. I left my knickers on the dressing table. He opened the door to go, saying that he would leave me to recover and would collect me for a drink later.
I took his hand away and pushed the door shut, putting my back against it. I looked at him steadily. He couldn't go yet. I had another line to cross.
Looking Forward to the Morning
When I got on the ferry to France I was tired and extremely stressed. My boss is an idiot, and for nearly a year he had been starting me on one project, demanding quick results, and then long before completion dropping it and starting another. When this has happened four times you tend to feel that making any effort is a waste of time. I had reached that state when he announced we had to lose half our staff. There was to be a points system and those with the most points would be going.
