December 1st, 2017
A young female aid worker breaks local rules
By Paul S
Amanda was 19 and a young aid worker, and her job as a consulate worker working on behalf of relief charities took her all over the world to some very dangerous places where a woman could be very much at risk. She kept herself very fit and had a trim figure, except for an annoyingly well rounded rear end due to her penchant for chocolate. Her figure was a shapely 34-26-40.
Her latest posting was to a Caribbean island recently struck by Hurricane Amelia, which did much damage and wiped out many timber homes there. She was briefed by her boss at the Foreign Office and told she would be working with Martin, their man on St Martins coordinating the relief effort regionally.
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October 14th, 2017
A lady in ancient Rome takes risks at a turbulent time.
By Jane Fairweather
Normally a member of a Roman senatorial family with the cognomen Rufus would have arrived at the Roman town house of his old friends, Titus and Lavinia Vesprilis, in a litter with some smartly turned out slaves in attendance and his excellent major domo, the freed man Quintus to see that everything was as it should be. Today, however, Valerius Rufus was wearing decidedly plebeian clothes and the hood of his cloak covered his head. An intelligent looking grey haired slave had let him in by the garden entrance and taken him straight to Lavinia in this small room, but the man seemed to know what was going on.
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September 26th, 2017
A motoring offence in a foreign country lands a woman in trouble.
by Kenny Walters
Adapted from an story related during a travel programme on mainstream British TV during the 1980s.
“Helen, this is not a big town. It must be somewhere.”
“I know that, Sally! But these Greek road names are just so confusing, and I’m sure this map isn’t accurate. For a start, that little road shouldn’t be there.”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sakes! I’m going to turn into that road and see for myself.”
Helen Parkinson impatiently swung the little Fiat into a small side road and slammed on the brakes. She snatched the map out of Sally Wilkins’ hand and studied it.
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September 16th, 2017
A short story depicting a girl’s judicial punishment. By a new writer to us.
By Christopher Elieson
“Ow!” cried the teenage girl as a sharp, stinging pain erupted on her bum. “That hurts!”
Sarah Saleh looked over her right shoulder and, out of the corner of her eye, caught a glimpse of what had just stung her. A heavyset female guard stood directly behind her, brandishing what resembled a thin, long yellow stick with a curve at the end. Could that have been the ‘cane’ she heard so much about? Sarah shuddered at the sight of it. Being hit with that thing was like being stung by half a dozen bees, all attacking at once.
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September 13th, 2017
A young member of the Women’s Airforce rues a night out.
By PG
Mavis Smith was three years into her career with the Women’s Royal Air Force and had spent the last nine months stationed in Malta. She had started as a Cadet and had recently been promoted to the rank of Junior Airwoman. Mavis had a good disciplinary record, until now that was.
Monday morning
It was the previous evening that she had received a message to say her Commanding Officer wanted to see her at 08.00 sharp on Monday morning, and Mavis Smith had a terrible feeling she knew why she had been summoned. As she lay in her bunk with over two hours to go to her meeting, she tried to recall the events of the fateful Saturday night.
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July 20th, 2017
An argument with a police officer leads to harsh punishment. By a new writer to us.
By Helena Daniele Alexander
The day was already very hot when Helena woke up. Thank God, she didn’t have to go to work all week. She was on sick leave because she didn’t feel well. She had made an appointment with her doctor for a check-up and to get new prescriptions for medicines she was using. She was a brunette with dark-brown eyes. Her body was well shaped and still firm. Her skin had the colour of ripe peaches, her breasts were round and firm, and her nipples had the colour of chocolate.
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December 14th, 2016
A holiday on the Isle of Man goes wrong
By Julie Baker
My name is Jillian Scott and I was born in Liverpool in March 1956. I am an only child and I was brought up in a happy middle class household in Bootle. I was academically able and attended a well respected mixed grammar school in Liverpool from the age of 11 onwards. I stayed on to take A levels in Geography, History and English which enabled me to eventually read Geography at Sheffield University. I also loved sport representing my school at both netball and hockey. My school days were happy and I was blessed with many good friends and a busy social life. In those days I was tall and slim with, in my later school days, a steady stream of boys wanting to take me out. What I want to share with you is something that happened to me shortly after I had taken my A level exams. I am not proud of it but I now realise it was a chain of events that couldn’t happen today and I also acknowledge that there are a number of people who have an interest in matters concerning corporal punishment. This is evident from the popularity of certain books and films on this subject and on this basis I am sure that there will be some interest in the details of my experience.
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December 10th, 2016
Problems arise when a female prisoner and male prison officer are known to each other
by Katie Hammond
Had it been 1990, or was it 1991, Martin Higgins wondered as he returned from his small back garden on a cold and damp December evening. He was a non-smoker but very occasionally he treated himself to a cigar, this one the first for well over five years and in his opinion well deserved. He left the half smoked cigar on the garden table and returned to the warmth inside and poured himself a glass of red wine. Now sitting down in the front room he decided it was 1991, early 1991, and now, over twenty-five years later at the end of 2017, he needed to do one more thing to finally close this bitter sweet chapter of his personal life. He smiled to himself as he sat there tired after a long week. He recalled the events of the previous December and after a few more sips of wine he became sleepy and drifted off, his mind still running through the events of that remarkable month.
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October 1st, 2016
A woman gets the telephone call she has been dreading.
By Kenny Walters
The telephone rang. Jane Crowther hesitated, but after eight rings she answered.
“Mrs Jane Angela Crowther?”
“Yes.” Jane nervously fiddled with her collar length blond hair.
“It’s Marion Peterson at the Criminal Penalties Office. I believe you’re expecting my call?”
“Oh, yes.” Jane’s voice trembled as she sat on the arm of the sofa she’d just been vacuuming.
“Now let’s see, Jane. May I call you Jane?”
“Um, yes, I suppose so.”
“Good! Call me Marion. No point in being unfriendly, is there?”
“Um, no.”
“Now, Jane, looking at your file, you’ve paid the fine of £250 and you’ve attended the ‘Drink Driving Awareness’ course. Is that correct?”
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August 29th, 2016
A puzzling antique from a junk shop has mystical properties.
By Fenton Creek
I’d been working late and was on my way to the station when I stopped at a ramshackle junk and second hand furniture store, picked up a couple of paperbacks from the stand outside and wandered in to pay for them. A grey haired woman was sitting behind the glass topped counter.
“You’re open late,” I remarked.
“Oh,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to supper just around the corner at 7, thought I might as well stay open. Just those, is it?” She indicated the books I’d put down on the counter.
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