Another update, so soon? Why yes Sappho’s Bratlings, just for you (And it’s a long one. Aren’t you all lucky that I have the sleep schedule of a migrating Tibetan Yak afflicted with ADHD.)

Brat Stalker 4.1

‘Black Jack… need a Black Jack’, Chase muttered to herself, frowning in deep concentration. Why was there never a Black Jack exposed when you needed one? Of course, last game it had been a 4 of hearts or diamonds that had stymied her plans for solitary domination. There was always something amiss, always something. How very like life, she mused as she hit the ‘New Game’ button.

Alas, the new game was not to be. A brawny arm reached around her, closed her game screen and before Chase could protest, she was squealing as she was yanked bodily out of her chair and slapped across the backside by her glowering supervisor. All the friendly goodwill was gone from his expression as he stood before her, his hands on his hips as he lectured her thoroughly.

“What do you think you are doing? Solitaire? Seriously?”

“I know,” Chase replied mournfully, “It’s a crap game, but it’s all you have on your systems here.”
(more…)

Okay, so, things have been up and down and all around lately, haven’t they? The forum is down for the moment due to technical issues, but to make it up to you, I’ve added a thread function that makes it possible to reply to specific comments. That should make commenting more fun and easier to follow!

Oh, and more Brat Stalker. More!

Brat Stalker 4.0

The days following her capture and incarceration were decidedly unpleasant for Chase. The work was hard and boring, and unlike in Chase’s previous role, there was no chance of slacking off to play video games. She found herself installed in the Data Center, which turned out to be a large, inexplicably hexagonal room with terminals ranged around its outer walls and similarly hexagonal command core in the center where serious faced fellows and ladies stared at screens of incomprehensible data and punched at keyboard keys with rapid fire strokes.

Her supervisor was a lanky middle aged man with a youthful dress sense that involved large amounts of t-shirts, jeans and leather accessories. His jet black hair fell to his shoulders, giving him a sort of mild mannered rock god feel to his persona that Chase found quite soothing after dealing with Agent Darby.
(more…)

Hi everybody! Time for a new installment of Brat Stalker, and also this little thank you note that I recorded for you all. There is thanks and wisdom in it. Real wisdom. Oh yes.

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Brat Stalker 3.3

For a moment, Chase sat in silence, digesting the information Darby had divulged. This was not at all what she had expected. She had expected to be fired, perhaps never to be employed by a government department again. To be told that she was slated for execution on suspicion of knowing too much, it was almost too surreal to believe. She wouldn’t have believed it at all if she had not woken up in this stark institutional room firmly in the grip of Agent Darby.

“You’ll start in Data tomorrow,” Agent Darby informed her crisply.

“What? I… What?”

“Data. It’s where you’ll be working.”

“I don’t want to work in Data. I don’t want to work for you.”

Darby arched a brow. “Did you miss the part where I informed you that this was no longer a matter of choice?”

Chase looked at her, dumbfounded. “I heard the part where you said it looked as though there was some kind of breach, but we know that there wasn’t now. So this should be the part where I go home, right?”

“It doesn’t work that way. Once you’re in, you’re in.”

(more…)

You’ve been waiting for this oh so patiently, and I’m pleased to announce that the Little Miss and the Law ebook is now up for sale on Lulu.

If you’re not yet familiar with Little Miss and the Law, it is a romantic lesbian spanking story that ran as a series on Trouble Books a while back. This e-book takes some of the elements from that series, adds a bunch of new content and serves up a smoking hot story you’ll be able to enjoy over and over again, like swats from a paddle that just won’t stop smacking your ass.

You can buy the book now for $3.99

OR

Read the first chapter for free!

Did she know how much she looked like a little girl when she pouted like that? Mackenzie thought probably not as she watched the woman rifling through her handbag crossly. She was wearing a stiff, starched white shirt with a tie that made her look somewhere between the school girl she most definitely wasn’t, and the executive Mackenzie guessed she probably was.

“Dammit!” the woman swore under her breath. It was a voluminous bag. Maybe it held some cash, maybe it didn’t. An expedition lead by Sir Edmund Hilary may very well not have been able to confirm or deny, so full was it of other things.

The bored barista, all piercings and bust and brightly colored falls, looked unconcerned. “It’s $5.95, lady,” she reiterated with a snap of gum between her teeth.

“$5.95? I remember when a dollar got you a coffee and a muffin,” the harassed business woman responded, stopping midway through her search to frown at the barista.

“Yeah, well, this ain’t the stone age anymore, lady,” the wench replied with the arrogance of youth.

The woman glared at her and from across the cafe, Mackenzie joined in her glare.

Standing up fluidly, she brushed down her sleek black pantsuit and drifted across to the counter. “Here, allow me,” she said, depositing a ten dollar note on the counter.

The business woman looked flustered, confused, slightly angry as she looked up at Mackenzie with wide hazel eyes. “Thank you, that’s so kind, you didn’t have to…” she said gratefully.

“I wanted to,” Mackenzie smiled her broad smile, the one that made people fall over themselves to please her just to bask in its warmth. She leaned against the counter casually, one hand on her hip, the other resting atop the perspex shield.

“I’m Mackenzie,” she introduced herself.

“Stephanie, Stephanie Morris,” the other woman stammered.

Read more…

Well haven’t we all been having fun lately! It’s great to see all the chatter on the comments, I’m going to try and make things a little bit easier for everyone with following discussions and whatnot by setting up a forum. A shiny shiny forum, where people can make their own posts and share stuff and you know, make fun of waxed porn stars (although waxed porn stars are people too, you know).

Thanks for being understand everyone whilst I mess with ads and whatnot, and for having a good sense of humor about finding a vagina in your face all of a suddenly. You guys rock

Stand by for the forum, it is something I will be working on over the next little bit…

(Down now due to bandwidth issues.)

I made a podcast! A podcast about spanking. Listen to be forcefully feminized!  Your feedback, comments and suggestions will be welcomed, tied to poles and thoroughly interrogated.

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EDIT: Oh yeah, I am trialling some new ads just before I go to bed, so if you see something wildly objectionable in the next 10 hours or so, blame the ad network I’ll fix anything that needs fixing when I regain consciousness.

To make up for yesterday’s post, I can assure you all that I spent today arranging flowers, pondering Aztec poetry and visiting the elderly in an entirely responsible manner. And so to another part of B.R.A.T Stalker. Ladies, you might want to put down your needlepoint for this one. I wouldn’t want anyone pricking themselves irresponsibly.

B.R.A.T Stalker Ch.03.2

Chase kept her head in her hands. If she had to look at Agent Darby’s smug face, she didn’t know if she would be able to restrain her anger. It was pounding inside her, a palpable force threatening to push her over the line between civilized behavior and feral rage. She had to calm down. Nothing would be achieved this way. For the moment, Agent Darby held all the cards. The entire pack, including both Jokers and the nigh useless instructional card that told you how to play Texas Hold ‘Em.

“What do you want?” Chase said finally, once the red haze had begun to clear and her mind could conceive of doing something other than smacking the smile off Darby’s face.

“Oh, it’s not what I want. It’s what I must do,” Agent Darby said with a sigh that sounded false to Chase’s ears.

Chase gritted her teeth together and prayed that Darby would stop playing verbal games and get to the point. The vague, shadowy act was becoming tiresome.

“Initially, you were scheduled for cancellation. But we believe we may have some other uses for you after all,” Darby said, stalking slowly around the room with a predatory gait, her eyes never leaving Chase’s sullen form.

Chase frowned at the news. “For cancellation? You mean termination? You mean I was going to be fired?”

Agent Darby’s hazel gaze was cold. “No. I don’t mean termination. I mean cancellation.”
(more…)

Some people have been complaining about cliffhangers and whatnot lately, so I thought I’d put up a little bit of the next chapter for you all to read. It’s only a little bit, because it’s the weekend and I’ve been celebrating by learning that air-rifle pellets leave a mark when they ricochet back down the hallway if you miss the target. Skin’s not broken, so we’re all okay!

EDIT: To respond to the concerns of some readers, this was not in some reckless display of half-wittedness. This was in a new indoor range set up we’re tweaking at the moment, but which does involve proper equipment and protection. Hence nobody got hurt

Sapphos Brats does not condone the irresponsible use of pellet guns and recommends that somebody in the USA whip redbottomgirl’s behind for her misbehavior.

B.R.A.T Stalker Ch.03

Consciousness reached out, grabbed Chase by the front of a white shirt she was wearing (but which most certainly did not belong to her) and slapped her around a bit before letting her fall back on an uncomfortably thin mattress.

“What…” Chase didn’t bother to finish the thought. She knew it would be futile to ask what was going on. What was going on was so unequivocally strange that she considered it possible that she’d simply had some sort of mental break induced by sheer boredom and was even now sitting at home on her couch with half a corn chip sticking out of her mouth as she sat drooling at the wall imagining things.

Unfortunately, the reality of her situation was not as pleasant as that, something she discovered when she moved slightly and fell out of bed onto a cold, hard floor that smelled of citrus based cleaner. It was an unmistakable institutional smell and it told her unequivocally that she was still buried under a big mountain of trouble.
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