Little Sophie and the Professor

by Chloe Carpenter

  "Very much so, and power cuts are common - that's why we have our own generator. But we have an endless supply of logs to burn, and also oil-filled radiators in every room as a backup. With the log fire raging and the doors kept firmly closed to retain the heat, it can be very cosy and warm in here even when there are blizzard conditions outside."

  "Do you get much snow in the winter?"

  "Lots! But this is summer, so have no fear - we won't get marooned here. Come on - I'll show you round upstairs."

  He led the way up a fascinating spiral staircase. Round and round it went, and up and up to the next floor.

  "Here's the master bedroom. Like it?" Jack opened the door.

  Sophie's eyes grew wide. "A four-poster bed! And look at the hangings! Are they velvet?"

  "No. Brocade. They help to keep out the winter chill."

  "They look amazing." Sophie explored the room, poking her nose into wardrobes and cupboards, much to Jack's amusement. She was equally enamoured with the remaining three bedrooms and the large bathroom which had a double shower cubicle in one corner, and in the other a large bath resting on four clawed feet. "Your bath has legs!" Sophie exclaimed.

  "It does indeed. Well, there's not much left to show you up here now."

  "What's behind that little door?" Sophie pointed to a white-painted door next to the bathroom.

  "Why don't you open it and see," said Jack, his eyes twinkling.

  Sophie did so, and to her delight discovered another little winding staircase. Up she went, round and round, and when she reached the top, there was another little door. She drew back the bolt and pushed it open ... and stepped out onto the little rounded roof of the tower with it's wonderful crenelations.

  "You can see the whole world from up here! It's amazing!" she cried.

  "Isn't it just," agreed Jack. "I used to love coming up here." His arm around her shoulders, he began to point out various places, including the boundary of the 2-acres of land within the castle grounds. "There's the beck where I used to play as a boy."

  "Beck?"

  "Stream. I had hours of fun there. And there are fabulous trees to climb beyond. Over there is the apple orchard. The gardens aren't as spectacular as they used to be. I converted a few of the borders into lawn as its easier to maintain... not that I spend a lot of time on it these days; I pay someone to come over once a month, mow the lawns, prune a few shrubs and pull out the weeds, but there's still plenty of colour to look at. Those rose beds were planted by my mother when I was a boy. She planted the herb garden too, next to the fountain."

  "Oh yes! A fountain! I see it! What are those stone things next to it?"

  "Stone lions. They're crumbling now, really ancient - they were here when my father bought the castle. Want to explore the garden?"

  "You bet!"

  "Ok - but first, let's go back down to the kitchen and see what Archie and Mary Cruickshank have left for us. They have instructions to leave a welcome pack whenever guests arrive."

  On opening the fridge, they found a bottle of chilled white wine, some milk, cheeses and cold meats. On one of the counters was a bowl of fruit, and in the cupboards was a supply of tea and coffee.

  "This will do nicely for lunch," said Jack. "We'll eat outside, and then later we'll drive into town and stock up on provisions."

  "But I want to explore the garden first!"

  "Lunch first, young lady, then our errands," said Jack in a tone that Sophie knew only too well. "If you're a naughty girl, there's a very fierce hairbrush in the master bedroom that is all ready and waiting to make an acquaintance with your little bottom."

  Sophie wasn't at all keen on hairbrush spankings. She dutifully washed her hands and helped prepare lunch. Round the back of the castle was a terraced area. It had a few decorative little round tables and chairs made out of metal. They sat and ate, and as the soft breeze ruffled their hair, they looked out onto the garden.

  Sophie sighed happily. "I'm in love with your castle already."

  "I know." Jack smiled, "I know."

  ---oOo---

  After lunch Jack brought their luggage out of the car and they unpacked and stowed everything away.

  "Now that's out of the way, I reckon we should go grocery shopping and also call in on my mother," said Jack. He noticed Sophie's disappointed expression. "Don't worry, it won't take long. There'll be plenty of time when we get back for you to explore the garden."

  They drove into town, deciding to make the visit to Jack's mother first. She lived in a small town house, the end one in a row of six. It had a small, very neat garden at the front. They walked along the path and Jack knocked on the front door, turned the handle and walked in. His mother came out of the kitchen to greet him, a big smile on her face.

  "Jack! Wonderful to see you." She gave him a hug and a kiss. "And this must be wee Sophie? My Lord - you've got yourself a tiny little fairy! Hello, my dear. Do come in." She smiled and planted a kiss on Sophie's cheek.

  "Thank you, Mrs Drummond." Sophie returned the smile, not phased in the least that she had been referred to as a little fairy.

  "Oh do call me Shona, dear. I can't be doing with formalities. Come along. I'll make a pot of tea." She led the way into a south facing sunny kitchen.

  "This is a lovely room," said Sophie. "Very cheerful and bright."

  "Yes. Thank you, dear. It gets all the sun. Good for the tomatoes!" She indicated a couple of tomato plants in big pots on the window ledge.

  The visit was a pleasant one, Shona Drummond dispensing tea and cakes, making sure her visitors had everything they wanted.

  "We'll return the favour, mother. Why don't you come for dinner in a few days time? How about Monday?" suggested Jack.

  "Monday will be fine. The first of the raspberries should be ready. You can make my favourite pudding."

  "What's that?" asked Sophie.

  "Cranachan." Shona smiled at the thought. "A traditional Scottish dessert made from oats, cream, whisky and raspberries - Scottish raspberries of course."

  "It sounds lovely. I'll learn how to make it for you," volunteered Sophie.

  "Wonderful, lassie. I shall look forward to it."

  ---oOo---

  "I like your mother; she's great," said Sophie as they were driving back from the supermarket.

  "She's not a bad old stick. And she likes you. I can tell."

  "Phew. That's a relief. Can I use your laptop to look up the recipe for that raspberry thing?"

  "Cranachan. Yes you can use the laptop, but you won't need it for a Cranachan recipe. You'll find a few cookery books in one of the kitchen cupboards, including a hand-written notebook full of mum's favourite recipes."

  "Oh, then I'd better use that then, and make it exactly right."

  They put the groceries away and then at last it was time to head out into the garden. Sophie had a wild time running around. She wanted to explore every single nook and cranny. She splashed in the fountain and climbed the gnarled old apple trees, perching high up to eat an apple she'd picked.

  "Don't eat the apples yet, Sophie. They're not ready."

  "It tastes just fine," said Sophie. It didn't really. It was hard and sour as sour can be. After a few more bites she threw it down and it hit Jack on the head,

  "Minx! Get down at once before I come up and get you!"

  There was much squealing and scampering and laughing as Jack chased Sophie around the grounds. He deliberately let her escape his clutches twice, but caught her eventually and enveloped her in a bear hug. They ended up rolling around on the grass, panting and laughing.

  "I think we'll both sleep well tonight," said Jack.

  "I know I will," agreed Sophie. "I'm not used to all this fresh air and exercise."

  "You will be by the end of the two weeks."

  "Hey Daddy - can we have a fire in the lounge this evening? Please? I'd love to see the logs blazing away in that big old fireplace."

  "Sure, princess. We'll need kindling to get it started." Jack got to hi
s feet and pulled Sophie up too. "Come on, let's get picking up twigs."

  There was plenty of kindling to be found at the west side of the garden, which was a small wooded area. They made a kind of game of it, Jack pointing out the names of all the trees that Sophie didn't recognise.

  "They were all planted by my father, and are all native to Argyll. This is Elder, the one next to it is Hawthorne." He moved from tree to tree. "Here's a Downy Birch ... and here's a Juniper shrub. Do you know the name of this one?"

  "Is it a Cherry tree? They look like cherries."

  "You're half right. It's a Bird Cherry. The birds love eating the fruit. Then this big tall one is a Scots Pine. Do you know what that one is, behind the Hazel shrub?"

  Sophie looked at the cluster of red berries. "Rowan?"

  "Yes! And this one?"

  "That's easy - it's Holly. Nasty, prickly stuff it is too."

  "You'd better be a good little girl then or I'll whack your bottom with it."

  Sophie squealed in mock terror and ran off, laughing.

  ---oOo---

  Jack got a fire going in the lounge, and for a while they both sat in the fireside chairs, soaking up the warmth and watching the logs burn and crackle as tongues of red flame curled.

  "I love this," said Sophie. "And it must be even better during the winter."

  "It's idyllic. Living in a castle is a romantic notion, but it wouldn't suit everyone. It can be cold and draughty, and there's a constant need to maintain it properly; for example, I need to get all the windows pointed again. Then there's the expense of supplementary heating. Still, there's always a plentiful supply of wood - though it all needs to be chopped and stacked - and the money I get from holiday rentals helps with the upkeep."

  "Oh yes, I can fully appreciate all that. But you must have had a wonderful childhood, growing up in a place like this."

  "Yes, it was great. Happy days." He eased himself out of the chair. "Come on, let's go get dinner on. I'm getting hungry."

  Dinner that evening was steak and salad. Sophie picked at hers, disconsolately moving bits of lettuce from one side of her plate to the next.

  "What's up, princess?"

  "I don't feel too well. My head hurts, and I've got tummy ache."

  "Oh dear. That doesn't sound good. You can leave your food if you want to." Jack pushed his plate to one side. "I'll eat the rest of mine later. Let's have a look at you. Come here, honey."

  Pale-faced, she came round and was soon sitting on his lap. Jack felt her brow.

  "Hmm. You feel a bit hot. Maybe you've got a bit of a temperature. I wonder why you have tummy ache?" Then he remembered the apples. "Wait a minute. Didn't you eat two apples during the car journey?" Sophie nodded. "And didn't you eat another one from the tree - even though I told you not to?" Sophie nodded again and pulled a rueful face.

  "I wish I hadn't eaten them," she said, feeling very sorry for herself.

  "Go and sit on the sofa. I'll be with you in a minute." Jack went to the cupboard to look for a thermometer. There wasn't one. But ... he had planned on a play session using a rectal thermometer, and as luck would have it, he'd brought it in his 'toy bag'. So when he returned to the lounge, he had with him a tube of Vaseline and the thermometer.

  "I want you laying face down on your tummy, Sophie."

  Sophie groaned and complied, thinking how kind he was to make sure she got herself as comfortable as possible. But when she felt his hands reach round to tug down her jeans, swiftly followed by her panties, she blinked in surprise.

  And then a cool hand parted her buttocks and a finger probed her tight entrance.

  "You seem very tight, Sophie, try to relax."

  "Wh-what ... what are you doing?" Sophie made as though to sit up, but Daddy pushed her back down again firmly.

  "I'm going to take your temperature, princess."

  "But DADDY! It doesn't go there," she said, outraged.

  "Oh yes it does. Now relax."

  "But - but I don't like it!" she protested.

  "Then you shouldn't have gorged yourself on all those apples."

  Sophie blushed crimson and clinched her cheeks together even more. But Daddy was so strict and firm with her, that she surrendered to the invasion. After her tight aperture had been worked open by his finger, Sophie gasped as she felt a cold rod swiftly inserted. It was gradually pushed further and further inside her, meeting automatic resistance all the way. Finally, the pushing ceased and Jack's hand patted her chubby cheeks lightly.

  "Keep still now Sophie. No wriggling. This won't take long."

  Sophie screwed up her face in embarrassment, imagining herself as she must appear to him, flat out with a glass rod sticking out of her bottom. She cringed at the thought. But deep down ... deep, deep down ... she was just a teeny tiny bit excited by it.

  Jack retrieved the rod, and it came out with a 'pop'.

  "Hmm, it's only slightly elevated. You don't have a temperature. I think you'll live. You can pull up your panties and jeans for now while I go to the kitchen and get you something for your headache." He returned with a glass of water and two white tablets. "Here you go, baby. Swallow these down with a big drink." He held the glass to her lips. "Good girl, that's it. Right, now what I want you to do is go up to the bathroom and see if you can poop out all those sour apples. If not, it looks like we'll have to play doctors and nurses and give you an enema."

  "Noooo!" squeaked Sophie. Although they had discussed enemas and she had expressed some curiosity, she wasn't quite sure she was ready to take things to the next level. She scuttled upstairs as fast as her little legs would go and sat on the toilet for ten minutes, eventually returning with a wide smile on her face. "I did it, Daddy. I pooped royally!"

  Jack gave her one of his looks. "Very well. You look better already. We'll save the enema for another day. Now I'm going to eat the rest of my dinner."

  Sophie went with him, watching as he poured himself a glass of red wine. "Can I have some of that too, please?"

  "No. Not tonight, baby. We need to make sure you're all properly better before you have any alcohol. I'll warm you a glass of milk shortly."

  "Milk?" Sophie looked at him, aghast. "I HATE milk. It's horrible."

  "Too bad," said Jack, "because that's what you'll be drinking tonight."

  She did too, protesting loudly with every mouth full. But by bedtime, her headache and tummy ache had completely disappeared, and she enjoyed snuggling up in the big four-poster bed, listening to Jack reading a story. Perhaps it was all the fresh air, or perhaps it was the comforting, lulling sound of his voice ... whatever it was caused her eyelids to droop, and she fell fast asleep.

  ---oOo---

  Jack's mother telephoned to delay her visit until the weekend, apologising that she had completely forgotten that she had arranged to see the ladies from the golf club for drinks on Monday.

  "Your mother plays golf?"

  "Oh yes. And she's very good at it too. She plays with a group of other women in their seventies and eighties. She's a busy person is my mother - she has activities most days and isn't free to come to us until Saturday. But that's fine. We'll find plenty to do."

  And so they did. They went walking and pony trekking and fishing, and they worked in the garden. It rained on Thursday morning, so Jack got on with his work while Sophie washed and ironed all the curtains and rehung them, and polished the silver cutlery and candelabras. She usually detested house work, but castle work was different - and with Jack around it was such fun. She explored the bedroom Jack had occupied as a boy and found some toys wrapped in black sacks in one of the cupboards. To her surprise, she found she enjoyed erecting the small wooden fort and setting the tiny little toy soldiers into position. Then there was the giant teddy bear.

  "Look what I found in your old room!"

  Jack looked up. "Ah. I see you've found George."

  "George? That's a funny name for a teddy. Oh well. It doesn't matter. I love him to bits." From that moment on, George foll
owed them from room to room. He even had his own chair in the kitchen and a special spot on the sofa where he could watch the television.

  Every evening they lit a fire in the hearth, and watched TV or read or played games. The bath time ritual was maintained and enjoyed, but after her bath on Friday evening, Jack produced a pair of pyjama's she hadn't seen before. They were pale pink with yellow stars.

  "Cute! I like them." Sophie held up her arms so that Jack could slip the top half on over her head. He grinned as he helped pull up the bottom half. "Oh - these are funny. There are poppers at the back. Have I got them on the wrong way round?"

  "No, my sweet. You have them on properly."

  "But what's this for?" Sophie tugged at the poppers. "There's a big flap at the back."

  "Drop-seat pyjamas," said Jack with a sly grin. "Just perfect for what I have in mind."

  Sophie shivered in excitement. "But if the flap is down, you can see my bare bottom, Daddy," she said primly.

  "That, my poppet, is the whole point." Jack's eyes gleamed with wicked intent. "I can have access to that naughty, tantalising little bottom of yours whenever I feel like it... which is right now."

  He picked her up and took her into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed he expertly manoeuvred her over his lap. "Mmm, yes ... very handy are these drop seats." He exposed her chubby cheeks, all pink from the bath. He bent to kiss each pink cheek, then tickled and teased until she was writhing.

  Then his hand descended, lightly at first, then harder, building to a crescendo. Sophie loved the feel of his hand on her bare bottom. She yelped and squeaked but enjoyed every minute of the spanking. By now, he knew her so well he could anticipate her reactions ad understood her needs. His fingers dipped between her thighs and he explored her moist sex. She mewled with pleasure, her hips rocking, humping his leg in her urgency. When her pleading became desperate he lifted her, then held her by the hips, lowering her astride his thighs, impaling her onto his glistening shaft. Sophie clung to the expanse of his broad shoulders as he guided her into the rhythm. They pounded fiercely against each other as she rode him to a tempestuous climax.