My thanks to Lucy for letting me have a small part in her latest offering. The Bad Boy Story Book is available for download to the Kindle from Amazon:
Be sure to order a copy or Miss Lucy might be very cross with you.
And to whet your appetite, Miss Lucy has graciously agreed to collaborate with yours truly by writing an exclusive short story based on an illo by moi, just for this blog! Enjoy:
"Do you need the car, Charlie? I have to go shopping - the fridge is practically empty." "We can't have an empty fridge," grinned Charlie. "Here - catch." He pulled the car keys from his pocket and threw them in the direction of his wife. "Will you be long?" he asked casually. "A couple of hours. Maybe longer if I call at the hairdresser's." "Take as long as you like," he said magnanimously. "I'll watch a bit of football on TV." "Okay." Ruth pulled on her boots and reached for her coat. "I'll buy fish for dinner. Can you prepare the vegetables?" "Sure. See you later." Charlie waved through the window as Ruth drove off down the road. As soon as the car was out of sight, he rubbed his hands together gleefully, closed the sitting room curtains, then made a mad dash for the computer. Unknown to Ruth, there was something he was even more interested in than football - spanking! And the internet was full of it. Settling himself down in front of the computer screen, Charlie surfed to his favourite spank sites where he read a few stories about men getting their backsides thrashed by dominant women, and then he looked enviously at dozens of pictures of some lucky devils sporting bright red bottoms. "I wish that were me," he said to the screen, and not for the first time, wished he had the courage to talk to Ruth about how he felt. But he couldn't. How would she react? She would probably be horrified and divorce him on the spot, and he didn't want that. So he suffered in silence and snatched his opportunities when they were available - like now. Charlie got up and went over to the sideboard. Opening a drawer he took out Ruth's hairbrush. She rarely used it, saying it was too big, but it was perfect for what he had in mind. Made of wood, it felt solid and heavy in his hand. It was paddle-shaped and stained a deep mahogany. He handled it reverently and returned to the computer. Standing, he delivered a few tentative whacks to his rump, gentle taps to begin with, getting progressively harder. Oh yes - this was so exciting! He unzipped his trousers and kicked them off and whacked his bottom over his underpants. That was more like it. But it wouldn't be a proper hairbrush spanking unless it was on the bare bottom. Bare bottom. Hell, there was something about that phrase that turned him on and made him feel like a naughty boy. He stripped off his sweater followed by his shirt, and then slowly slid his underpants down over his hips. Free of its confines, his rigid cock sprang to attention. He spent a few moments admiring it (well, who wouldn't?!) and then resumed his self spanking. The brush cracked down on his right buttock, and then on his left. He felt his haunches jiggle beneath the impact, and grunted as he delivered further swats, delighting in the satisfying thwack as wood contacted with naked flesh. This was only the starter and he was greedy for the main course. Unable to wait any longer, he accessed his favourite video clip. A pair of steel grey eyes glared at him. "You disgusting boy! How many times do I have to tell you to behave yourself?" The man in the video lay over the woman's lap. He mumbled something unintelligible and then howled as she brought her hair brush down on his naked rump. "Yes! Yes!" encouraged Charlie. "Give it to him good!" Clad only in his socks, Charlie positioned himself carefully over the back of his computer chair, balancing with one hand, and wielding the hairbrush in the other. His eyes glued to the screen, he whacked his bottom in synch with the whacking that was being done in the video. And very soon, he was wailing and howling and yelping just as much as the man in the video. "Arrrgh!!" he shouted, after giving himself a particularly hard wallop right at the top of his thighs. It was murder - that area was so very tender. He did it again. "Aaaiieeee!!" And throughout, the strict lady with the grey eyes verbally chastised. Charlie felt as though she was speaking exclusively to him. As his arm rose and fell and the brush walloped his buttocks, he imagined it was her whacking his arse. "Oh yes! Yes! More! More!" Oh, he was in a real frenzy by now, and his cock had swelled to gigantic proportions. Indeed, his appendage was so huge, it was rubbing against the chair back in that old familiar rhythm. "Oooooo," groaned Charlie. "Any minute now, boy. Any minute now. Just a few more whacks... Ow! Owow! ..."
He was making so much noise he failed to hear the front door open. It was the cold gust of air blowing into the room that got his attention. He turned involuntarily then stared in horror. Ruth stood in the doorway, an expression of shock and incredulity on her face. For tortuously long seconds neither of them spoke. Ruth recovered her equanimity first and strode forward, her eyes hard, her mouth an unsmiling slash of ruby lipstick. Reaching out, she snatched the brush out of Charlie's hand. Charlie gulped. Charlie wilted - his once majestic organ now shrunk to the size of a pickled walnut. Charlie opened his mouth to speak but only managed a pitiful squeak. There was something wrong with his vocal chords. He was in shock. He wanted to explain it was all a misunderstanding. "A mmm...mmm," he mumbled as panic set in." "Well Charles," said Ruth, coldly. Her use of the more formal name told Charlie he was in deep doo-doo. "Since you resort to this type of behaviour the minute my back is turned, I have no option but to discipline you myself." Then, to Charlie's horror and amazement, she deposited herself in the chair and hauled him over her lap. "Taking my hairbrush for use on your BOTTOM?! Outrageous!" snapped Ruth. CRACK! The brush found its target. Down it flew, over and over again, cracking and whacking down on Charlie's wobbling buttocks. He thought he had endured sufficient pain with his own attempt - which was quite feeble compared to this. Ruth went at it like a madwoman. Charlie's eyes bulged. He yelped. He screeched. He howled. He begged her to stop, but she refused. She carried on and blistered his bottom, making it as red as the post box down the road. When she eventually stopped, Charlie leaped to his feet and did a peculiar little dance around the room. He made a series of blood curdling yells as he pranced about in his socks, his flaccid todger flapping. "I haven't finished with you yet," growled Ruth. She went into the kitchen and returned scowling. "As I thought. You haven't prepared any vegetables as I asked you to. So you can get on with it now. Wear this." She handed him her pink frilly apron. Charlie looked at it aghast, but Ruth was so fierce, he put it on and waddled to the kitchen with his red rump sticking out and shining like a beacon. His poor old arse burned and throbbed and burned and throbbed and ... heck - his pecker was coming back to life. Charlie willed it to shrivel up again but the damned thing wouldn't. He reached for the carrot peeler and hoped fervently that Ruth wouldn't come into the kitchen and see him in this ridiculous apron in a state of obvious arousal. Ruth returned to the computer. She checked Charlie's history, as she always did, noting the sites he visited, the pics he downloaded, and the video clips he had accessed. She chuckled to herself and then typed in the address of a website. The page appeared - Mistress Electra : Pro-Dominatrix. Ruth looked at herself on the page. She was still attractive and had a good body, accentuated by that tightly cinched corset, and thigh-high boots with four inch heels. Oh yes, since Charlie had been made redundant and was unable to obtain work, it had been up to her to pay the bills. She had been wanting to talk to Charlie for some time about the situation. He knew she had to travel about a bit with her job selling cosmetics. But she had given that up long ago when Mistress Electra had proved increasingly popular with recalcitrant men the length and breadth of the county. She went upstairs and put on one of her outfits - the black leather bustier, black lace panties, black stockings and suspenders. She selected a pair of red shoes with killer heels, and applied a slash of red lipstick. Running a hairbrush through her hair, Miss Electra smiled hungrily. She took a riding crop from her secret stash in the wardrobe and returned to the kitchen. There was work to be done!
You can check out Miss Lucy's blog here: Lucy Appleby's Spanking Stories