A Spanking Good New Year: Short Story Collection

by Rayanna Jamison

  “Bunny!” Hayley Hendrix, her best friend of fifteen years, screamed with laughter. “No! No way. You actually know someone named Bunny?”

  “Where do you think we live – LA?” Claudia set her glass on the coffee table, being sure to use a coaster. “Bunny is Mrs. Drexel’s cocker spaniel. She got out last week.”

  Hayley blew raspberries at her while she smacked her with a pillow. “Why do you even care about the idiots in your neighborhood? They’re all so freaking posh. They can’t even stoop down to pick up their own dog’s shit.”

  “Hayley!” Claudia tugged the offending pillow out of her best friend’s hand and threw it at her. “I understand why you are saying that, but some of them are nice. Besides, Ms. Hayden down the block is allergic to doo-doo.”

  “Oh my god, CJ! You don’t curse anymore?” She shoved Claudia’s shoulder. “Are you becoming one of those desperate housewives?”

  “Silly,” she clucked her tongue, “Desperate Housewives is a fake show. You’re confusing a sitcom with reality TV. I’d belong to the Real Housewives of Lilac Meadows.” She rolled her eyes at the childish nickname then flipped her long auburn hair over her shoulder. “Anyhow, I’m Claudia now.”

  “Gag me!” Hayley reached for the bottle of champagne and poured them each a glass. It was the second bottle, but neither of them had plans. Anyhow, her husband Chase had promised to pick her up around two in the morning. “You’ll always be CJ to me. Anyway, there is something else. We haven’t done our lists yet.”

  “I don’t think we need to do that this year. I mean, honestly, I never follow through.” Claudia admitted sheepishly. “And you live so much closer now. We can actually get together on the regular.” Her best friend recently moved to the next town over due to a change in employment. Hayley and her husband Chase both accepted new jobs with higher salaries on tips and recommendations from Logan. It proved to be a good move all around. She needed her friend more than ever, but the past few years increased the thickness of her skull it seemed, and admitting it would be harder than mastering a skill.

  “Come on! It wouldn’t be right if we break tradition. It’s New Year’s Eve. The literal eve before the next year.” Hayley scrunched up her nose, then nuzzled along her friend’s shoulder. “Can we at least snuggle like we used to?”

  “Gross! What if you have a cold or something?”

  “Wow! Moving into this development has really warped your brain. We used to snuggle all the fucking time.” Hayley blinked away the traces of a tear, then got to her feet. Something deeper than the rude comment caused the reaction. “I’ll be back in a second. Maybe Chase can pick me up early.”

  Horrified, Claudia watched her best friend disappear down the hallway. Seconds later the bathroom door closed, and it cemented her isolation. Drat. She had changed, and not for the better. She focused so much of her energy gossiping about the ladies around town that she didn’t notice the other subtle changes. The two of them had been friends for over fifteen years!

  Hayley didn’t deserve that. She was the one friend who stuck by her through all the craziness over the years, the bad and the awful, and who cuddled her without shame during all of it. Why had she reacted like that? What was wrong with her? Giant tears pooled in her eyes, then dripped down her cheeks. She needed to make it up to her best friend. One full year proved to be too long a time to go without seeing one another, and worse still, her behavior was less than stellar.

  “Don’t call Chase!” Claudia got off the couch and rushed down the hallway. She flung open the door without knocking, a best friend only privilege, and stepped inside. Hayley sat perched on the elaborate garden tub with one elbow on each knee. She looked up as Claudia approached, then slowly got to her feet.

  “What?”

  “Please don’t call him! I’m sorry. You’re right about the lists. Come on.” She grabbed her friend’s hand. “Look, I’ll heat up leftovers! Then we’ll drink the rest of the Veuve Clicquot Rose and snuggle on the couch! Please, Hayley? Don’t go home yet. I’ve really missed you.”

  “Maybe you should make the first thing on your list a note to Logan, begging him to address your awful behavior.” Hayley pulled away her hand then brushed it across each eye, catching the tears. “I mean seriously. Chase has taught me a thing or two about that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind.” Hayley tugged a washcloth off the towel rack, probably intending to wet it and press it to her eyes, but Claudia snatched it away. “For fuck’s sake! What did I do now?”

  “No, no! Those are just for decoration.” She fixed the fluffy teal cloth back on top of the dark brown and white ones with a satisfied sigh. Then a pit of ice formed in her belly. Crap. She’d inadvertently turned into one of the snobbish drones like the women in her neighborhood right down to the decorative towels. “That was a crap move on my part. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let me get you something to wash your face with.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Hayley watched as she scoured the bathroom, but didn’t offer any more on the subject after the scolding.

  If anyone ever spoke to her like that she would certainly tell her a thing or two. But Hayley never got confrontational with her. Her friend seldom got angry at all. She also didn’t cry often, and to see tears because of her terrible attitude really needled Claudia.

  She forced her energy into finding a regular washcloth and her favorite calming cleanser. She handed both items to her friend. “Remind me what Chase knows about.”

  “If I snapped at you the way you snapped at me and my husband found out about it? I’d have one hell of a sore ass.”

  “He hits you?” Claudia pressed a hand to her stomach, but something way back in her brain shifted, prompting a memory. Chase didn’t hurt her best friend, not purposefully, but he absolutely spanked her when she broke a rule or disrespected him. How posh-addled had her brain gotten? She’d forgotten important details about her friend’s life and relationship!

  “Oh yeah he does, but only on my ample butt!” Hayley wiggled her hips from side to side. “You knew this already. We’ve been in a different sort of relationship since our courting days.” She snorted at her choice of words.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right, I did know, and I can’t imagine what’s wrong with me tonight.”

  “Well, we used to spend hours on the phone. At least after you first moved away. Then Chase and I came to visit about a year ago during the summer. Since then we haven’t talked a lot.” Sadness filtered into her tone as she set to washing her face. “What happened CJ? Why did you pull away from our friendship? Do you think you’re too good for me now?”

  Freezer Burn

  by

  Susannah Shannon

  All her life Lucy has dreamed of being spanked, but she’s never had the courage to share her desire with anyone. After striking up an Internet friendship with the blogger of The Well-Spanked Feminist, she has finally gained the courage to tell her husband. But before she can, a sudden job opportunity has uprooted the couple and, with one week notice, sent them to live in Sweden the day after Christmas.

  As Lucy enjoys the challenge of living in a very different environment, she’s trying to figure out how to open the conversation with her husband. After consuming way too much wine at the home of Nick’s new boss, Lucy is presented with the perfect opportunity to confess her needs. Will she be able to follow through? How will Nick react?

  Excerpt from Freezer Burn:

  Email from lwarren@optimail.com

  To: nmcdonald@fastmail.com

  Hi Nicole, we are here! It is so beautiful. I couldn’t figure out what the awesome smell was and it turns out it is Scandinavian air. We got here late last night, and Nick has already gone into his new office. I am puttering around putting things away. Our house is tiny and so cute. You get a real feel for the Swedish aesthetic, nothing wasted, pristine, simple… a real consciousness of the interconnectedness of the globe. It’s such a privilege to get to experience this way of life. />
  The furniture we purchased had arrived, but our bed’s too big to fit into the bedroom! Apparently no one here has ever had a king sized bed. The movers had left the pieces of the frame in the middle of the living room and plunked the mattress into the tiny bedroom – the edges curled up since the mattress was bigger than the floor. I had to crawl all over it to put sheets on. We were too tired to even think about doing anything with it. It was a little bit like sexy camping.

  Today I will go to a store and buy us a smaller bed! Not at all sure how we’ll get the mattress out of the house. I think it’s a lesson in culling our materialistic American way of life, refreshing really.

  As to the other thing, no, I have not. It took me months to get my nerve up. I had read your blog over and over and over. I had printed out “How to ask for the spanking you crave” I had practically memorized that thing – be loving, respect limits, discuss, discuss and discuss some more. I was ready: wine chilling, speech about trust and authority, and love and accountability, and sexiness and love...

  Then he walked in the door, saw the lit candles and said, “Oh, you already know about the job offer.” We had ten days to get moved from the USA to Uppsala. It was not the time to bring this up. “The visa’s arrived. What’s the exchange rate from dollars to krona? Your mother called to beg us not to move the day after Christmas, and oh, by the way, would you pin my wrist in my back and spank me until I cry?” seemed like a really, really awkward conversation to start. I will, though, I promise.

  Love, Lucy

  Lucy put down her laptop. She had been sitting cross-legged on the mattress that engulfed the ridiculously small bedroom. Since the room lacked overhead lights, she had balanced a table lamp in the doorway with a long extension cord and had sort of leaned into it to get enough light to see. December in Sweden was not a bright affair, apparently. It was an awkward and persnickety way to send an email, the laptop careened perilously on her knees and her fingers kept hitting the wrong keys. She crawled off of the mattress and out the bedroom door.

  The rest of the house was much more to her liking. The ceilings were high and there were a lot of windows. Apparently, the Swedes just didn’t care about bedrooms. She started coffee.

  Nick’s new associate, a woman named Astrid, had stocked the kitchen with coffee, milk and sugar. Everything had been arranged by the company Nick was working for. Lucy was going to get them both settled and then get back to her work as an actuarial freelancer.

  Emboldened with kaffe – she had to admit Swedish coffee was pretty terrific – she went to get a shower. She stood in the doorway, and completely baffled, took sip after sip of her coffee. The showerhead cascaded from the ceiling in the corner. There was no barrier of any kind; the drain was simply in the middle of the floor. A pedestal sink with a mirror over it ran along one wall. The toilet was in its own small room across the hall from the “shower room” – no bathtub in sight. Either the whole room was the shower or the shower had a sink in it. No counters, no cabinets. Where the hell did you keep your towels? You couldn’t even close a shower curtain and hide your wilting soap, scabby razors and half empty bottles of shampoo. The Swedish aesthetic apparently ruled out ever being sloppy. This might be a long year.

  After taking a hesitant shower under a dribble of water – she simply could not stand the idea of the entire room getting splashed – Lucy scrounged through a suitcase for a clean pair of jeans. She sat down on the mattress and her attention was drawn away from getting dressed.

  She lay back, imagining Nick saying, “Come here, baby doll.” She imagined herself hesitating and, as her fingers began to stroke between her legs, she imagined him firmly yanking her across his lap. She imagined the spanking building to a fevered pitch while she wriggled and cried and begged for mercy. Her palm pressed against her mound as her breath began to become labored. She imagined his hand being implacable as he enacted a thoroughly deserved punishment. Her need exploded within her and she stilled while her climax washed over her. She lay for a few minutes and then got up and yanked her jeans on.

  She was unsure of what she needed to do first. There were built-in closets in the bedroom, but she couldn’t open them because the mattress had the doors wedged shut. So, no putting clothes away yet. While her hair dried, she slurped more delicious coffee.

  The darling house was very small. The front door opened into a “great room” which was sort of like using the term “jumbo” to describe shrimp. It did offer built-in bookshelves that ran the length of the room. The far end housed the kitchen. There was an island that would serve as their dining table and workspace. Shelves ran around the room a few feet below the ceiling. Lucy would have preferred storage that wasn’t quite so visible.

  She shook herself, she felt surprisingly brisk considering how little sleep she had gotten the night before. She would focus on getting cute dishes and platters and simply make a point of staying on top of the housework, easy peasy. Her hair was reasonably dry, so she zipped herself into her warm down coat and headed outside.

  It was freezing. She turned around and grabbed a hat and gloves. It was too cold to care about what you looked like. Within the first block she was rethinking the wisdom of walking the eight blocks to Ikea.

  She noticed several signs that seemed to be advertising fireworks, which seemed at odds with all of the Christmas decorations that were still very much in evidence. Eventually, she found a bilingual sign. “Nya år fyrverkerier till salu” the sign said, thankfully then repeating in English: “New Year’s Fireworks for Sale”.

  Signs aside, the city was still decorated for Christmas. Swags of greenery festooned buildings, candles filled most windows. There were also, almost everywhere she looked, goats. Goats the size of horses made of straw, smaller goats of wood painted candy apple red, window displays made of stuffed goats, and even the sawhorses that blocked off traffic were decorated to look like goats. She ducked into a cafe with “Kanelbullar” on the sign. She found a spot by the window and opened her laptop. As soon as she had a signal, she googled “Sweden Christmas goats.” There was a veritable cyber gold mine of information.

  Her search yielded pages upon pages. In Sweden goats pull Santa’s sleigh, she learned, and most towns have enormous straw goat displays, that she was sobered to learn, are inclined to catch on fire. The actuary within her did a quick calculation of danger posed to towns by giant straw goats. Not good. She wouldn’t approve an insurance policy for any such thing. Luckily, or not, she supposed, depending upon your point of view, Scandinavia hadn’t embraced defensive risk management. They seemed to embrace the flaming mammals of potential death in their town squares. She redirected her focus to the subject at hand – goats. In a land that was home to vast numbers of actual real life reindeer, what did they use to symbolize Christmas/Jul? Goats. Well, that was a new one, she thought. She paused to watch the passersby.

  She glanced around to make sure that no one could see her laptop screen over her shoulder. She went to the blog she had spent much of her time on over the last six months, The Well-Spanked Feminist.

  Lucy reread one of her favorite posts, “Why would a strong woman want this?”

  Because we are wired this way. Because being held accountable makes us feel loved. After a spanking we feel our own feminine power in a profound way. Because we want to become our best possible selves. Because we feel that submitting to our partners makes them be their best selves too.

  We hope you enjoy this collection of short stories!

  The Spanking Experiment

  A Love Multiplied Novella

  Rayanna Jamison

  ©2016 by Blushing Books® and Rayanna Jamison

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary o
f

  ABCD Graphics and Design

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  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  The trademark Blushing Books®

  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Rayanna Jamison

  The Spanking Experiment

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter 1

  The truck rolled over a pothole on the old dirt road and Aurelia hissed as she was jostled in her seat. “Troy! Be more careful! I’m sore!”

  The reference to his wife’s freshly spanked bottom annoyed him more than it elicited sympathy. “Why do you do this? Every time we go to your parents’ you act like a spoiled child, even though you know exactly what will happen. It’s the same thing that always happens!” He was embarrassed just thinking about it.

  “You mean me getting spanked?”

  Troy took his eyes off the road for only a split second – long enough to shoot his beloved wife a look that was a mix between disbelief and complete and utter annoyance. “Yes, that. You know exactly what I mean. And yet, the minute we walk through the door of your parents’ house you turn into an absolute brat. And the day ends with you in your father’s study and me listening awkwardly from the living room, while the rest of your family glares at me as if I’m the one in the wrong.”