The 1950s…a time when men were men…
and women were spanked!
Coming Tuesday, August 18, Correcting the Coeds, a collection of historical spanking romances set on college campuses in the 1950s. Celeste Jones came up with idea and invited me, Sue Lyndon and Renee to join in. Expect lots of spankings and hotness! My story in Correcting the Coeds is called Educating His Bride.
Educating His Bride blurb
Never much interested in her studies, Margaret Atwater attends college hoping to graduate with an Mrs. degree instead of a bachelor’s. When she catches the eye of English Professor Henry Thurston, she’s thrilled to marry him, drop out of school, and begin a new life as a married woman and faculty wife. However, Henry is a kinky man who has much to teach his eager young bride—in, and out, of the bedroom. As Mrs. Henry Thurston, Margaret’s education has just begun.
An excerpt from Educating His Bride
In this scene, Margaret has failed to do well on an assignment, and her professor calls her into his office.
“Now, tell me why you believe I grade you harder than anybody else.”
She wet her lips. “Because you do.”
“My standards are no more exacting for you than they are for any other student. I expect excellence from each of you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”
He flipped open a record book and ran his finger down a list. “As it stands now, your grade is a shaky C minus. If you don’t do well on the final next week, you run the risk of getting a D in the course.” He snapped the grade book closed. “We had a discussion after your last paper, did we not?”
“I believe I warned you what the consequences would be if you failed to get at least a B.” He opened his middle desk drawer.
Yes, they’d talked about—but he couldn’t be serious.
He withdrew a thick, heavy eighteen-inch measuring stick. “Lock the office door, please.”
Her feet obeyed, even as her mind rebelled. Will he really do this? Her hand shook as she twisted the key. She supposed she could have fled screaming down the corridor, except ladies did not run, let alone scream.
Henry closed the Venetian blinds and switched on a lamp.
She leaned against the stout wood of the door, her eyes riveted on the nasty ruler.
“Come forward, please.” He beckoned with a curl of his fingers. “Put your hands on the desk. Do not remove them until your punishment is over.”
“Henry, please,” she beseeched.
“Now, Margaret.” His expression implacable, he folded his arms. There would be no budging him.
Seeing him so, so stern did something funny to her insides. Made them quiver. It wasn’t all nerves, either. She shuffled forward to place her palms against the blotter. I can do this. How bad can it be? He won’t spank me hard. He only intends to scare me.
He moved the chair out of the way. “Fifteen spanks.”
Fifteen? She’d expected two or three at most. Hadn’t expected any if the truth be told.
She sensed movement and then the ruler struck her backside, blazing a line of fire, and she cried out.
“That’s one,” he said.
The only thing worse than being spanked would be the humiliation of discovery. She clamped her lips together and braced for the next strike.
Another pain-laden streak lanced through several layers of clothing. She couldn’t imagine the impact on bare skin.
“Two,” he said.
Thwack! The length of the ruler struck both cheeks at once, and her hands flew off the desk to protect her bottom.
“You know where your hands belong. Put them there unless you want extra strokes.”
She slapped her palms onto the desk.
“That was three,” he said.
A whoosh then the measuring stick seared the crease where buttocks met thigh and, despite her resolve to remain silent, a little cry escaped.
“I’m sorry I have to punish you, but you promised to do better. You made a commitment. That was four.”
Margaret sucked back the tears. “Maybe I didn’t break a promise. Maybe I’m not smart enough.”
“I don’t believe that about you for an instant. You didn’t do well because you didn’t apply yourself.”
He applied himself with another stroke that got Margaret dancing on tiptoes in an attempt to alleviate the burn.
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