A Brand Spanking New Book

Here's a little something to chase away those post-holiday blues with some bright pinks and crimsons - a brand spanking new e-book out from Spanko author Lucy Appleby (whom some of you may know by her appellation of  'flopsybunny'). It's filled with juicy little stories for misbehaving men, and what happens to them when their misdemeanors inevitably catch up with them...

hmm - damn nice cover, too....

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:


http://www.amazon.com/The-Bad-Boy-Story-Book

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:

Secret Spanko

by

Lucy Appleby

"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