Archive for ‘Domestic Spanking Stories’

September 13th, 2017

Learning a New Piece

A female head of the family deals with her sister-in-law. By a new writer to us.

By J Grey

The piano moaned discordant and offended at having its keyboard buffed with a manic attention to detail that let the rest of the household know it was Anne herself doing the cleaning. Then it fell silent, and music began. C triad, A minor, tentative, exploratory and gentle, it filled the piano room, drifted down the halls through the open doors, and wafted through the great French windows to the garden. Anne tilted her head, quizzical and alert. C, F, G, A minor, F, G, E7! (like a chess move) and half home to A minor, C’s beautiful soul-mate and  friend.
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August 29th, 2017

A New Broom

A period piece about domestic staff at a large mansion

By Hilary Wilmington

The two hazel bushes which grew in a corner of the walled garden on the Ligurin estate had flourished undisturbed for some time now. Too long, according to the head gardener, who grumbled that the nuts they yielded were hardly worth harvesting and they were not being put to that other use they were kept for. Only the other day, one of the kitchen maids had trampled straight across the onion beds on her way to give him a message that more carrots were wanted. When he’d got angry about it, she’d given him a lot of cheek and trampled back the same way. Though he’d complained bitterly, nothing was done about it.
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July 9th, 2017

A Conversation between Mother and Daughter

The title says it all and offers an insight into family discipline

by Hilary Wilmington

As she entered the kitchen, Sasha was blinded by the sun streaming through the windows, so she did not at first notice her mother, who was sitting at the table shelling peas.

“Oh, I didn’t see you,” said Sasha. “Why isn’t the radio on?”

Penelope usually had the radio on when she was working in the kitchen. If Sasha had known her mother was here she would have stayed in her room. She braced herself for the deluge of recrimination she expected and all those awkward questions  she would have to answer, for which as yet she had not managed to think up any plausible lies.
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July 2nd, 2017

An Irish Tail

Two sisters reminisce about their previous family discipline

By Paul S

Ellen and Mary were sisters, now 21 and 20, but lived together in Ireland during their upbringing on a farm in Wexford, Ireland. Mary was smaller at 5 foot 6 inches and 34-24-36 whilst Ellen was the big sister at 21, 5 foot 8 inches tall and measured 36-26-40.

Their dad was a racehorse trainer and was involved in breeding quality racehorses for clients the world over, particularly in the lucrative Middle East. This meant he did not have time to deal with domestic matters which was left to their Mam, Judy, who was very strict with the girls.
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June 5th, 2017

A Simple Misunderstanding

Life as an au pair in a different culture

By Julie Baker

My name is Alice Granger and I was born in Reading in April 1991. I am the eldest of four children and there is three years between each of us. I have an older brother and my two sisters are the youngest in our family. My father is an accountant in London and my mother works as a nurse in the local hospital. We are a solid middle class family with enough money to be comfortable but by no stretch of the imagination are we in any way rich. We were bought up to work hard, respect authority and do the best with whatever gifts we had been given.
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March 29th, 2017

Events on Mothering Sunday

A row with her mother gets a girl into trouble.

By Jane Fairweather

In eighteen year old Elspeth Jackson’s somewhat prejudiced opinion, Mothering Sunday was a thoroughly annoying day. Long custom had decreed that the young maids at her parents’ house were allowed to go off for the day to their Mother church, where they had first worshipped and usually call on their Mothers and give them flowers or some other small present.

And her own Mama and Papa, of course, just had to let the older women servants go off as well, so there was no cook or assistant cook or maids, or any of the useful persons that did all those things that were normally done for her as a matter of course. This annoyed her particularly because at her best friend Genevieve Smyth’s parents’ house the older servants were excluded from the treat, so life went on much as normal, except the Smyth’s cook had to exert herself more than usual on Mothering Sunday, which must annoy her, Elspeth thought petulantly.
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March 13th, 2017

Over the knee – a photo

March 13th, 2017

The Texas Saddle

A night out drinking gets two girls into trouble. A story from the archives.

By Kenny Walters

Emily Carter slammed the Jeep Grand Cherokee into a vacant slot right across the street from the Tacahoosa Sheriff’s office, flung the door open and stepped out into the morning sun. The tall dark-haired woman’s white broad-rimmed Stetson, freshly laundered white blouse and smart gray pin-strip pants might have looked out of place in some parts, but not in this affluent township with its fine houses and outlying horse ranches.

A horn beeped just as Mrs Carter began to cross the street. Looking round, with more than a thought to giving the driver a piece of her mind, she saw a dark blue Ford pick-up pulling in behind her Jeep.
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February 21st, 2017

A Picnic by the River

Two sisters go too far, and then their mother finds out.

By Julie Baker

I was born in March 1966 and my parents called me Sophie. My sister was born almost exactly a year later and they named her Alice. My mother was a fashion model before she got married and my father was a professional footballer with Southampton, in his early playing career, and then at Plymouth Argyle. We were born just after the move to Plymouth, but within two years of the move he and my mother had parted company. Shortly afterwards he went into football management and moved to Birmingham with his new girlfriend. They eventually married and had two children together; a boy and a girl.
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February 2nd, 2017

Seditious Literature (1895)

A period piece depicting attitudes of the Victorian Era

By Jane Fairweather

It all began quietly enough over breakfast.

Papa suddenly remarked (between ingesting a rather large piece of bacon): “Has anybody except me noticed this horrific style for young women? There was a piece about it in the Times yesterday.”

“Papa, you know I don’t read the Times!” Georgina, the daughter of the household, replied just a touch ironically.

“Well you should!” Her father snapped. “Then you would have something to talk about with young men at Assemblies and Balls. There has not been the slightest sign of you becoming engaged and the costs are getting very tedious. And I am weary of seeing you reading old books about King Arthur and Greek heroes! If you are going to read such things, I wish you’d choose a solid modern poet like Tennyson. There might be at any rate one young man who might prick up his ears if you started to talk about Tennyson, not that there will be that many of them. It’s not that I want you to marry a huntin’ and fishin’ type, you know, but you need to find someone, my girl, for the sake of your own future and I wish you’d get on with it. And quite frankly the boys won’t have read the old books and you will bore them stiff!”
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