As far as I can tell, the readers of Sappho’s Brats spend their days ripping off road signs and bouncing in and out of the cells like kangaroos on crystal meth, so I’ve taken the liberty of installing a pay phone in the lobby so you can call your parole officers.
What have I been up to whilst you’ve all be undermining society as we know it? I finished the final Finn the Devourer e-book, which can be found sometime this month on Spanking Romance, or, if things go as intended, purchase around Halloween with the first two novellas as a print book published by Blushing Publications. I’ll keep you informed on that, and where the cops are as further information comes to hand.
So, without further ado, more story for the taking.
At the news you’re going to spend the next five years laboring in some fashion, you burst into tears. What was the point of applying for all those grants and enrolling in Basket-Weaving 101 if you were just going to end up laboring like everybody else? The idea of working for the next five years fills you with such horror that your shoulders shake as your tears roll down your cheeks and you hiccup with pitiful half-sobs.
“But, I didn’t do anything!” you cry.
The guard observes you impassively. “The Queen says otherwise and the Queen does not lie.”
(more…)
Fuck yeah, you nineteen people who voted on the outcome of the last installment of my adventure spanking story. You are the grease that wheels me.
Here’s more! More!
You take a deep breath. Perhaps this guard is a foreigner, with ways different than your own.
“Yes, I’d like to make a phone call. To my lawyer,” you explain politely.
“Laywlyer?” She cocks her head to the side, like a really big, really hot dog. You feel weird about thinking about her as if she was an attractive canine, but it is too late now and can’t be helped. You must move on. Move on!
(more…)
It’s been a while since we did one of these, the last one got kind of messed up in the move, but I think we’re all pretty settled now, so lets sit on the mat and listen to this little tale, then choose the option that most appeals.
You’ve woken up in a dark room. This doesn’t overly surprise you because you went to sleep in a dark room, or more precisely, a dark cell. The thin mattress you’re lying on has been specifically engineered to create maximum misery by reminding you that comfort exists somewhere in the world, but you’ve been denied it by a hair. Or rather, by a shitty budget mattress.
Your crime was a petty one, and, in your mind at least, a pretty one. Specifically, you spent last night quite literally painting the town red. It turns out however, that coating the windows of big box stores with finger painted versions of animals in a sort of cave-man display of art in a natural environment earns the ire of the law.
(more…)
