Retribution and Falls Creek Women's Prison

By Rollin Hand

A pair of novellas containing collectively over 20.000 words, Retribution and Falls Creek Women's Prison present a darker vision of the world of spanking and BDSM erotica. At heart both novellas are romances with protective alpha males who love and discipline their women with equal fervor. But these are crime novellas and criminals can be pretty bad actors.

RETRIBUTION features Brenda Starling, ace reporter for a newspaper in Portland, Oregon. Brenda is on to a story, one that involves sinister abductions of young pretty females coupled with painful and humiliating judicial type punishments. Who is doing this and why? Brenda is determined to find out, heedless of the risk to her personal safety. This does not sit well with her photographer boyfriend who will not hesitate to discipline his headstrong girlfriend when the need arises. And as Brenda's investigation brings her closer to the truth, she discovers that the hunter may have become the hunted.

FALLS CREEK WOMEN'S PRISON features Connie Bright, a rookie police officer with a mission--enter the notorious women's correctional facility undercover, as an inmate, and discover the criminal enterprise being run on the inside. But it is 1955 and corporal punishment for inmates is very much the norm at Falls Creek. A date with Black Betty, the notorious prison razor strap, is something to be feared and avoided. On top of that, there is the tough as nails inmate, Tall Mary, known to all as Big Momma, the ruler of the cell block. It is not wise to cross her for as all the inmates know,  momma will spank. As the true nature of the crime inside the walls becomes clearer, Connie is faced with a question--who is in on it, and worse, who can she trust to get her out?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: DT Publications
• Release date: Nov 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497716322

Rollin Hand

I like to think I write the uncommon spanking story. Not the usual thing-- the summons to the principal's office, the schoolgirl caught smoking, the wife overcharging the credit card. No, I am a writer of erotic spanking fiction, but my stories are different. It's not just about spanking. Instead of a "spanking story" it's a "story with spanking." I try to infuse my stories with interesting plots and interesting characters so that they are fully realized original creations, stories that go beyond the tired clichés so common to the genre. I've been writing since 1999, but when I started I did it mostly for my own enjoyment. It hasn't been until fairly recently that I made an attempt to bring my writings into wider public view. At first I was just a reader, a consumer of erotic spanking fiction. I read all of the classic Victorian literature and the then popular pulp fiction writers of the day like Paul Little and Will Henry. But then I discovered I liked to write. I wrote in two distinct periods, from 1999 to 2003, and more recently in 2010-2012. The writings in the early period can be characterized as an attempt to recreate the style of the pulp fiction writers of the sixties and seventies. In the more recent period I have focused on writing stories with more robustly developed characters and stronger plot lines. The idea was to write so that the story could stand on its own, and not be regarded as a mere  "spanking story" following a stereotypical plot line.  I write in a wide range of styles and genres. My stories are M/F, F/F, and F/M, sometimes with the orientations mixed in the same story. My genres include contemporary romance, domestic drama, college sorority tales, mystery/thrillers, historical romance, western romance, humor and fantasy. Although most of my works are short fiction and novellas, I have written three novel length works, "Atonement" a private eye-type mystery, "Flash Gordon and the Menace from Mongo" a sci-fi adventure, and "LaForge" a supernatural thriller trilogy. These are slated for publication in 2013.  

Book preview

Retribution

Part 1

Brenda Starling blew through the newsroom of the Tribune like a force of nature. The former red haired beauty queen (Miss Oregon runner-up 2006), was indeed a bona fide star in the newsroom—she was their top investigative reporter. George Smithson ran his hand through his hair as he stared at the wake she left, snapping orders at staff, demands for computer research, yelling for her assistants—not to mention observing the marvelous twitch of her hips in the figure hugging skirt. As her editor he often had his hands full with her. And the problem was, she was damn good. She had a nose for a story like no one else, and an unflagging drive to root it out. Now she had a source on one of the biggest stories of the year, if it was true. A woman who had confided in her, recounting a frightening and lurid incident.

She’d been abducted, but not by aliens, although it was so strange it might have been aliens. It was horribly embarrassing as well as scary and painful. Which was one reason she hadn’t come forward, hadn’t gone to the police. By chance Brenda had heard the story from a woman she’d met through a friend while drinking in a downtown bar. The woman had confided in her and had told her an unbelievable story about a friend of hers being abducted and then punished in a rather intimate and embarrassing way before being let go. Brenda pushed her for details and finally she had given Brenda her friend’s name—-and an introduction. With a promise to keep her name out of the papers the friend had agreed to an interview.

The woman, a rather nice looking young executive type named Carol, told Brenda she had been grabbed while walking to her car after a workout at her gym. She worked out regularly and had never felt that the parking lot at night was dangerous, but that is where they had grabbed her, bundled her into a dark van and thrown a hood over her head. She had been taken on a long ride to a dark cabin, a rough place with log walls and no windows. There had been a heavy wooden door to the outside that was locked. It had been quiet, like it was way out in the woods. No road noise. Except that she could hear the sound of running water, like the structure sat next to a babbling brook. For a day nothing happened. She had shouted for help but no one answered. There was no one there in this place but her. They had left food for her—-and water, but for an entire day she heard no one.

The next morning they came for her. There were two of them, wearing black leather and masks. One was a woman. The outfit made her look like some sort of weird Catwoman character, like from a comic strip. But it was all too real. She had tried to fight but she was overcome. Her hands were bound behind her and a blindfold placed over her eyes. She was marched, one person on each arm, and taken to a different place. They walked. Into a structure. Up some stairs, down some stairs. She sensed being in a large room. Then they took off the blindfold.

She was standing in front of a bench, like in a courtroom. It was otherwise a just a room with dark wooden walls but she saw cameras set up like they were about to film something. There was scary looking apparatus. Frames that looked to be designed for restraint, like old time stocks and a block with fastening straps. A figure in a hooded robe sat high above her behind the bench. The figure looked menacing though she could not see his face. She remembered what he had said to her though, like it was yesterday.

You are here, said the voice, for retribution. Cooperate and it will all be over soon.

She’d said, ‘wait a minute—-who are you? What is this?’ but the hooded figure had commanded her to be silent. She’d been genuinely afraid. These people were obviously nuts.

He pointed at her. You have wronged someone. You have committed a serious infraction against this person. For this you will be punished, just like the others.

Who? What did I do?

If you think, you will remember, said the figure in the robe. A rather childish act, I think. So in return you will receive a child’s punishment.

He addressed the black clad woman. Miss A, he said, put this young woman across your knee and spank her-—hard. Make it very thorough. She should have trouble sitting comfortably for a few days.

The woman called Miss A had smiled at her through the mask. It had been chilling. She had watched her drag a chair over and sit down. Then she had motioned, seemingly grinning. Carol had been frozen to the spot. But the man had grabbed her shoulders and pushed her over there, and Miss A had yanked her face down over her knee. Then she had felt her pants being taken down, baring her bottom. She remembered the feeling of lying over the woman’s knees, bare and vulnerable. She had felt the woman’s hands on her bottom, patting, squeezing, as if testing her bottom cheeks for what was to come. It was humiliating to be in such a childish position, but the woman was strong. Then crack! Whack! Smack! The black clad woman had commenced to spank her with hard stinging smacks. The spanks landed all over her bottom—-right side left side, right across the crease. It stung. The pain intensified, her bottom getting hotter and hotter as crisp spanks rained down relentlessly. Her eyes watered up. The woman had been wearing leather gloves that had made her hand feel like a paddle. The woman was powerful and could really spank hard.

Carol had cried and shrieked. Tears had rolled down her face. But to no avail. She was handcuffed and helpless. It went on and on—-the smack of the woman’s hand and Carol’s wails. She admitted that finally she