Squire’s Isle Created by Geonn Cannon

SPANK OR TREAT 2014

Spank or Treat 2014 is finally here! Visit Governing Ana for the prize list, sign-up sheet, and full instructions. You can win from a prize pool valued at over $1,000, including a Kindle Fire or Nook HD donated by Blushing Books!

Many authors will also offer a contest on their individual blogs.  Your comment on their blogs enters you in both contests!

How do you play?

1.Visit each blog between Friday, October 24th and Sunday, October 26th to read the stories.

2. Leave a comment on each blog. You must demonstrate that you have read the entire story. Copy-and-paste or inappropriate comments will be disqualified. You will receive one entry per blog for the grand prize drawing. Note: You must have a minimum of five entries in order to win a grand prize.

3.If you have visited all of the blogs, visit Ana’s blog to sign up for FIVE bonus entries to the grand prize.

4.Deadline is midnight EST (UTC -5) on Sunday, October 26th!

5. If you successfully completed a previous challenge (Sci Spanks 2014, Love Spanks 2014, Spank or Treat 2013, Spankee Doodle 2013, Love Spanks 2013, or Spank or Treat 2012), you may add “VIP” to your comments. You will earn THREE bonus entries toward the grand prize. (Yes, we will be doing this again.  Yes, if you successfully complete the Spank or Treat 2014 challenge you can become a VIP for our next activity!)

6. If you are a writer of fiction (any kind), add “W” to your comments to be entered in the special author prize drawings.

7. If you are a Spank or Treat 2014 Ambassador, please add “Amb” to your comments to receive your extra prize drawing.

8.Visit Governing Ana or any of the participating blogs on Friday, October 31st to find out the lucky winners. Will it be you? We will also announce prizes on the Spank or Treat Facebook page.

And now, my story!

The Special Ingredient

by Geonn Cannon

Copyright © 2014 Geonn Cannon

Winnie Cabot woke up at half past four every morning. She liked working before the sun came up and acting as if she was racing the day. It was fall so she had two full hours before the sun beat down on her, but she still opened her door at six sharp. She showered and changed into her outfit for the day, black slacks and an orange sweater, then began preparing. Her cookie recipe was not much different than everyone else’s: butter, sugar, vanilla extract, eggs, and so on. The thing that kept people coming back to her bakery was the secret family ingredient that she didn’t advertise.

She remembered sitting in the kitchen with her mother and grandmother, learning with her sisters how to make the recipe for the first time. The old book was propped up on the island next to the cutting board where her mother added ingredients to a huge wooden mixing bowl. She loved its pages, the parchment and the aged ink. “There’s no such thing as a love spell,” her mother told her. “Anyone who says differently is a cheater and a con artist. This doesn’t create anything. This just opens someone’s eyes to something they might otherwise ignore.” She added a dash of fine powder and a rich, welcoming aroma rose from the batter.

Cabot women had lived on the island for many generations, and through every generation they kept their small bakery near the bridge. Commuters came by on their way off the island while tourists came in on their way to see the sights. Winter wasn’t exactly a booming time for business, but they still had a steady stream of customers. Some of them went for the traditional pumpkin spice everything – cupcakes, cookies, coffee – but her Harvest Cookies were always hot sellers as well. She was disappointed when the people who took one of the special cookies left the store and rejoiced when they took a seat and enjoyed the cookie where she could surreptitiously watch.

A few days earlier she had watched a married couple sit across from each other with mutually exhausted indifference. As the man ate his cookie, however, he started staring at the woman across from him. Halfway through the cookie he reached out and rested his hand on top of his wife’s. By the time the cookie was gone they were laughing and leaning close to each other like newlyweds. Winnie gave herself a mental pat on the back for that.

She didn’t know how many of her cookies resulted in a successful romantic encounter, or how many ignored the effects until they faded away. All she could do was open the door; they had to walk through it on their own.

The first batch was ready. She always prepared the first batch of the day in her oven at home. It was antique, handed down through the years, and it was steeped in the history of every Cabot that came before. It was a symbolic step to tie that day’s cookies with every one that came before. She carefully placed the cookies in a basket, covered them with a cloth that she tucked into the sides to hold in the fresh-from-the-oven warmth, and carried them out to her car.

Jennifer and Bailey were already setting up the bakery when she arrived. She greeted them both and placed her basket of cookies on the counter. She adjusted the handmade sign – “HARVEST COOKIES – 2 for $1” – and went into the back to help Jennifer start setting everything up.

The first Harvest Cookie sold to their first customer of the day. He left before she could witness the results, but the day was early. The sun was just starting to add colors to the sky when someone bought a cookie and carried it with her coffee to one of the window seats. Winnie divided her attention between customers and the woman with the cookie, watching as she brought it up to her perfectly curved lips and bit off a small portion. She chewed carefully, almost thoughtfully, as she scrolled on her phone. The woman was very red, her hair and her dress were only slightly different hues, and she blended well with the orange leaves out the window.

The woman took another bite, then looked away from her phone to examine the cookie. She licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth and glanced up. Winnie was caught looking and knew that shifting her gaze would only make her look guilty, so instead she smiled widely and lifted her hand in a meek greeting.

“Hi. Can I help you with something?”

The woman stood and walked up to the counter. She lifted the cookie and gestured at it with her chin. “What did you put in this?”

“Secret family recipe. I can’t disclose that, Miss…?”

“Solomon. Victoria.” She rested her free arm on the counter between them, still holding the cookie up like a court exhibit. “You put something in here. Some sort of… spell.” For the last word she dropped her voice to a whisper, just barely breathing it out.

Winnie tried not to react. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What’s your name?”

“Arwyn. Uh. Winnie. People just call me Winnie.”

Victoria stepped around the counter and took Winnie’s arm, moving her into the small room off the kitchen. There was a sink with a smudged mirror, and a mop stood in a bucket in the corner like a sentry guarding the other janitorial supplies. Victoria took another bite of the cookie and held Winnie’s eyes as she chewed. Her eyes were bright green, speckled with streaks of gold. Winnie swallowed nervously. If this woman was a health inspector or with the FDA, and if she suspected there was something harmful in the cookie…

“There’s a spell,” Victoria said quietly. “You put a spell in this cookie.”

“I… I don’t…”

Victoria smiled knowingly. There was something sly and catlike in the expression. “Mind-altering spells in your cookies?” She clucked her tongue. “People could get very irate if this sort of thing got out. You could lose your bakery.”

Winnie said, “I’m just trying to brighten people’s day. It doesn’t alter them, it just–”

“Sh. Turn around. Put your hands on the sink.” Winnie furrowed her brow. “Do it, or I’ll go out there and tell everyone you’re slipping something into their cookies.”

Winnie turned around and placed her hands on the metal rim of the sink. Victoria snaked one arm around Winnie’s waist, her palm flat against the belt buckle, and she pressed herself hard against Winnie from behind. The cookie, half-eaten, appeared in front of her. “Have you ever tasted your own spell? Hm? Give it a try. Take a big bite.”

The cookie brushed against her bottom lip, pulling her mouth open, and she took as big a bite as she could muster. She chewed carefully, holding her breath as Victoria slowly undid her belt.

“Are you scared?” Victoria whispered.

Winnie’s mouth was full, so she shook her head no.

“Good. This is what you get for tricking your customers, for spelling them against their will. Your mentor should have told you that was a big no-no.” She pushed Winnie’s slacks down to her thighs, and her underwear quickly followed suit. Winnie’s breath was coming hard and fast, and she looked at her reflection in the mirror as she slowly chewed her mouthful of cookie. Victoria’s hand skimmed the outside of Winnie’s thigh, up over the curve of her ass, and their eyes met in the mirror.

“Tell me you’re…” She slapped the flat of her hand against Winnie’s right cheek, startling her into a high-pitched yelp. “…sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Will you ever do it again?”

She bit her lip. The recipe was the family tradition, hundreds of years of ritual. “Yes.”

Victoria clucked her tongue and swatted her again. “Naughty little witch.”

Winnie whimpered and curled her fingers against the metal of the sink. Victoria swatted her again and Winnie arched her back.

“Count.” She swatted the other cheek.

“One…”

Two more swats. “From the beginning.”

“Oh…. oh, um.” She furrowed her brow and closed her eyes. “S-six?”

“Good girl.” She ran her palm in wide circles over the red cheeks. “You know you brought this on yourself. I never would have had the courage to walk up here and take the initiative like this if you hadn’t doped me with your cookies. Ironic, don’t you think?”

“Mm.”

Another spank. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-ye-hess.”

Another. “I also told you to count.” Another swat.

“Nine.”

“Wrong. That was eight. This is nine.” She swatted, and then again.

“Ten,” Winnie moaned.

“Good witch.” She leaned in and kissed Winnie’s neck, moving up to her jaw. Winnie turned, her lips open and eager when Victoria found them. They kissed hungrily as Victoria pressed against her, thrusting rhythmically as she pushed her tongue into Winnie’s mouth. Winnie took the risk of moving one hand from the sink and reaching back, gripping Victoria’s hip. They pressed tightly together through the kiss, and then Winnie let her go and sank down onto her elbows. She could only see the top of her head in the mirror, but she could see Victoria’s whole upper body.

Victoria ran her eyes over Winnie, slipping one hand under her sweater and then back down to her hip. She raked her fingernails over the sensitive flesh of Winnie’s ass, and Winnie shivered enthusiastically.

“Are you sorry you doped your cookies?”

Hell no. “No.”

Victoria sighed. “I may have to punish you if you do it again.”

Winnie pouted her bottom lip out and wiggled her ass. Victoria tried to hide a smirk as she spanked Winnie’s pale-pink ass cheek again. “I meant what I said,” Victoria whispered. “I’m stunned I’m doing this. If I crossed the line, I am so sorr–”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Winnie interrupted. “It will never happen again. I swear.”

Victoria nipped Winnie’s earlobe, then brushed her hand over her hip with a satisfied “Hmm.” Winnie straightened up and gently tugged her underwear back up over her tingling buttocks. When Victoria smoothed down the front of her dress, her eye was caught by something on the table. She smiled as she picked it up. “Well. Look at this.”

“That’s my wooden spoon.”

“I know.” Victoria held it in front of her face and patted it lightly against her lips. She raised an eyebrow and pressed a kiss to the cup of the spoon. “There are so many things I could do with a wooden spoon. Hm…”

“Are you going to take it?” Winnie asked.

Victoria slipped the spoon into her back pocket. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back.” She walked to the door, moments away from slipping out of Winnie’s life forever.

“Hey, Vic.”

Victoria looked at her.

“Next time you come by to check on me, the Harvest Cookies are on the house.”

Victoria grinned, blew her a kiss, and slipped out into the main room again. Winnie ran the water in the sink, carefully splashed some water on her face without ruining her makeup, and reached back to run a hand over the curve of her ass. It was still a little sore. She took a steadying breath and went to the door, hoping she could focus on work for the rest of the day.

 

 

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