by Jan Graham
Steve smiled. There was that old-fashioned polite little way she spoke. Who said twitterpated anymore? Excited, infatuated, intrigued, and aroused all described what she’d obviously felt, but his little Rhia chose a word he never imagined connected to kinky activity.
He watched her getting used to the idea of being cuffed in place. She’d not resisted anything he’d been doing as she answered him, placing the cuffs on her wrists, moving her into position on the spanking bench, outstretching her arms, and securing her cuffed wrists to the anchor points. She’d barely blinked, and certainly hadn’t objected. Now she wiggled and squirmed, pulled a little in the cuffs to see if there was any give. His cock throbbed in anticipation. She looked like a beautiful naked treat stretched longwise along the leather-covered apparatus.
“Are you comfortable, sweetheart?”
“As comfy as a woman can be strapped to a leather-covered saw horse thingy.” Steve laughed. The bench did have a saw-horse appearance to it.
He ran through a few safety instructions, including the use of a safe word. Once he was confident Rhia would let him know if she needed him to stop, they were ready to begin.
“Straighten your legs, feet hip width apart, bottom in the air.” He ran his hand over each cheek, slowly moving upward to the curve of her back. He added a little pressure, easing her spine downward. “Curve down a little here, so your bottom’s up.”
He returned his hand to her non-bruised butt cheek. It warmed under his touch as he gently rubbed it, massaging it softly. She squealed and gave a startled jumped as the first slap connected with her skin. He made sure he massaged the sting of it away before administering a second, a third, a fourth. The stiffness in his pants became more demanding as he inspected the rosy glow of her cheek. By the sixth firm smack, Rhia was arching her ass upward, and her squeals had been replaced by soft moans.
“How are you doing?” Steve asked even though he could see she was enjoying the activity.
“Who knew my bottom was connected to my vagina?”
Steve laughed. He took the reply to mean she was getting more aroused than she’d expected to be.
“I might need to check on that, if you don’t mind.” He slipped two fingers inside her, delighted at the verbal and physical response he elicited from her. She pushed down onto the impalement and arched her back, lifting her ass higher into the air. His free hand landed hard. Three swift, firm slaps against the fleshy globe had Rhia’s sweet pussy clenching against his fingers, thrusting gently in response to each smack. Damn if her butt hadn’t turned the most beautiful shade of scarlet. “You’re right, they are connected.”
Steve was pleased with how she’d responded so far. He expected her to enjoy the light spanking. After all, he’d already ascertained she enjoyed twinges of pain mixed into their foreplay. A hard pinch of her nipples, a quick bite to her neck, ear or lips all increased her wetness and made her groan in delight. A playful spanking was just the next step up from that. Still, what he’d done wasn’t considered discipline, at least by his standards. “So let’s see how you like being punished.”
Rhia turned and looked at him. “Isn’t that what you just did?” “No, it wasn’t.” He tried not to smile at the look of surprise that filled her face. “You seemed to enjoy what I just did a little too much. That was playing, discipline comes next.”
Steve slowly removed his clothes. He took his time getting naked, wanting to build the anticipation, letting her create a picture of what might happen next in her mind. He intended to give her four harder smacks, one for each indiscretion they’d discussed earlier. They would be firmer than the previous pats, and this time, he wouldn’t massage her cheek between each hit to ease the sting. Getting naked ensured he would be ready to give her the reward he’d promised. He didn’t want the memory of being disciplined to linger too long before pleasure replaced it. At least not this time.
More severe punishment would come in time. It was a matter of degrees when training a sub. He moved to stand in front of her, arousal flared in her eyes when she saw his erection. He rubbed his hand along its length a few times before putting on a condom.
“This is your reward.” That little pink tongue darted out and moistened her lips. God, he loved that. “But you’re not getting it yet. Tell me why you’re receiving a punishment.”
“Umm, I lied to you.” Her face was flushed, her gaze flicking between the tip of his erection and his face. He liked to see how hungry she was for him. She licked her lips again as his cock flinched in front of her face.
“What else?” He could see her thinking. “We discussed it while you were sitting on my lap.”
“Yes, I remember. I lied to you, I hid from you, I covered up what happened, and I didn’t trust you.”
“So four infractions means fours strikes. You will apologize to me between each one. You can either use my name or Sir with each apology. I’ll let you decide which it will be. Do you understand?” He kept his voice firm, not reflecting the emotion for her or his concern she might not like what he was about to do. He confirmed once more that she could tell him to stop at any stage, by using her safe word. Rhia nodded her understanding.
The loud cracking sound of his hand against her flesh filled the room.
“Ouch…I’m sorry, Steve.” She gave a scream as she answered and stomped her feet as the sting obviously ricocheted across her flesh. He immediately followed with the next smack.
“I’m sorry, Steve.”
The next hit, elicited the same response. She stamped her feet and made a little jumping movement that caused her ass to wobble temptingly.
“I’ll let you get away with the stamping-feet little tantrum this time. Normally I would add a strike for each time you did something like that.” His hand landed for the last time.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I’m really sorry.”
Steve leant down and kissed her reddened skin.
“Good girl, baby. You’ve pleased me immensely by accepting your first discipline so well.” He smoothed his hand over her ass cheek, and pressed it firmly over the hot flesh to ease the sting slightly. “You’re such a good girl.”
He positioned himself between her legs. The head of his cock parted her pussy lips and nudged into her gently, as he poised himself at the entrance to her cunt.
“Would you like your reward now, baby?” She wiggled slightly, causing his hardness to slide against her sex.
“Yes please, Sir."
He didn’t make her wait. Two quick, forceful thrust and he was seated inside her to the hilt. Fuck, her cunt was a delight. He moved rapidly in and out, letting her reactions to him set his pace. Her low moans filled the room and her pussy pulsed over him. Her cries of yes as she clenched her hands into fist and pulled against the restraints urged him to fuck her more forcefully. He hastened the deep, penetrating thrust, and she began to clench harder around him as the first orgasm gripped her. He reached forward and grabbed a fist full of silky hair. He leant over her, continuing to pound her from behind. Her body shuddered through another release.
“Good girl. Keep coming for me, sweetheart.” She felt so fucking good. His cock plunged into her, preparing to come. “What do good girls need to say when they get to come, sweetheart? Tell me. What do you say?”
It was probably unfair to make her speak. She was gasping for breath as her body continued to come.
“Thank you…I love my reward. Thank you, Sir.” Steve’s cock erupted. He thrust hard, pulse after pulse of heated cum filling the protective sheath. He’d experienced a mind-blowing release, but what he really wanted to do was fill her, not the fucking condom.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Patrick was in a quandary. Harper had just left his house after bringing him home from school. He stared at the restraining order and wondered if he should call the police. He’d listened to her explanation of what had happened and why she’d bailed his father out of jail. He told her he understood, but he didn’t. After eighteen years his father was not go
ing to change. He’d been violent all Patrick’s life. He couldn’t remember a day where his father hadn’t hurt his mother or him in some way. He’d tried to explain that to Harper, and she’d said she understood his concerns, but she didn’t. Not really. How could someone who had never been unwanted by their father and treated worse than scum understand his plight?
How could Harper have betrayed him like this? He thought he knew her better, thought she cared for him. Maybe she did. His father could manipulate people into believing he was a loving husband and father. He’d done it before when Patrick was only ten.
The doctor at the hospital where he’d been treated for a concussion initially didn’t believe the story his father had given. Patrick couldn’t remember all the details, but by the time he was released his father had convinced her that the injury was an accident. She’d even told him to be more careful climbing trees in the future.
He laughed to himself at the thought. Patrick hadn’t climbed a tree in his life. He rarely left the house, except to go to school. He had to watch his mother, make sure she was okay. Of course she wasn’t. She never had been.
He re-read the document. His father wasn’t allowed to contact or approach either of them. He hadn’t. His father wasn’t to attempt to threaten or intimidate them. He hadn’t. Dear Old Dad was banned from going onto the grounds of the school or the hospital. He couldn’t enter the house, even to collect belongings. His father hadn’t done anything that breached the requirements of his bail.
The police had assured Patrick that the first time a breach occurred, his father would be returned to prison. The problem was no breach had occurred.
Patrick had been on edge since he’d heard the news of his father’s release. He expected him to show up at any moment and kill Patrick in his sleep. He’d always threatened to kill him. Ever since he was young, his father had told him one day he’d make him so mad he’d end up dead. Patrick was the one who called the police. He figured his time was now up.
That was why he hadn’t accepted the offer to stay with Ms. McCabe. She was the last person he wanted put in danger. Apart from Harper, Rhia McCabe was the only friend he had.
His thoughts returned to Harper’s visit. He was sure she meant well, but he was worried. She was letting his father stay in her house until Patrick and his mother were ready to let him move home. He ran the conversation over in his mind.
Your father has learnt his lesson... He’s very sorry for what happened and wants to make amends... He’s proud of you, Patrick, for taking a stand and putting in place the impetus he needed to see the error of his ways... His father agreed to help them manufacture their stock, he wanted to help Patrick get to university but couldn’t afford to pay for it… He admired Patrick’s ingenuity and was grateful for Harper’s help.
He folded the piece of paper up slowly and returned it to his wallet. He found it hard to believe what Harper had told him, but she had never lied to him. Her methods to help him might be unconventional, but until recently, she had been the only friend he had. He would just have to wait and see what happened. If he had someone to talk to about all this with, it would make it easier to understand. He dismissed the idea of ringing Ms. McCabe on the basis that Harper told him not to. She’d been insistent. Especially since Rhia’s boyfriend was the chief of police for the area. Steve, as he told Patrick to call him, had been at the hospital for nearly as long as Ms. McCabe was the night his mother had been operated on. Even though Harper had told him Steve would arrest them all and put them in prison if he could, Patrick liked him. It was his job to arrest criminals, and even though Steve didn’t know it, Patrick was a criminal.
What to do?
He walked into the laundry and moved the washer aside. The hole in the wall wasn’t big, but it served the purpose Patrick used it for. The laundry was really the one place in the house his father didn’t inspect. It was a place for women to work. A man didn’t need to intrude on that. Patrick used to think it strange since his father intruded everywhere. He stuck his hand inside the gap and pulled out the tatty shoebox. His hiding place had served him well, but he wouldn’t need it anymore. Not after today. No matter what Harper said, Patrick knew his father didn’t like him, didn’t want him, and he never had. If it happened that his father did come back and convince everyone he had changed, Patrick didn’t think he’d survive for long.
This time the story wouldn’t be he’d fallen out of a tree and gotten a concussion. It would be something more deadly, something fatal. He sat at the computer and began scanning the documents and photos he kept in the box. It would take a while. He’d need to sort them, type up explanations, and fill in information that he didn’t have any proof of. He wasn’t sure why he needed to protect himself, but having insurance was a good thing. It was better to be prepared.
* * * *
Harper’s world was spiraling out of control. The week had been exhausting. Kevin Johns seemed to be taking over everything. Admittedly he had the sort of mind Harper liked in a man. He was devious, vindictive, malicious and cruel. She had no idea why people didn’t seem to like him. The first couple of days at her home he’d towed the line. Now he was attempting to boss her around. She’d drugged him again this morning at breakfast and left him chained and gagged in the spare room. He wouldn’t be pleased.
She had no choice, just as she’d had no choice to debilitate Jaxon. He was now living in the cellar. Well, hanging on to life described his condition more effectively than living. If he’d just done as she said everything would have been all right. When Kevin heard the yelling in her bedroom and Jaxon’s threats to go to the police, he’d overreacted a little. At least she’d managed to shove a pillow against the split in Jaxon’s head before the blood hit the Persian rug she loved so much. That would have been a tragedy. The rug was an heirloom.
Jaxon stirred occasionally when she remembered to check on him, but being knocked out twice in a matter of three days didn’t seem to be good for his health. It didn’t matter really. The outburst, combined with his determination to contact the police, made her mind up. She needed to dispose of him anyway. Jaxon had become a liability, a millstone around her neck. She couldn’t allow that.
Patrick was another sticking point. Kevin hated the boy. Harper needed him, until yesterday that is. By the time she’d left to drive home she was convinced she’d done the best thing. When Patrick finally agreed that his father had obviously changed, she’d wanted to shout out Hallelujah. For a clever boy, he could be thick sometimes.
Harper had asked him for assurances that he was totally on board and trusted her one hundred percent. Patrick agreed to provide her with the exact formula he’d developed for making the stock. He’d also give her the re-adjusted formula he’d worked on that hopefully wouldn’t kill her clientele. Harper smiled to herself. Trust was such a beautiful thing. Now that she had Patrick’s trust, when he gave her the formula she wouldn’t need him anymore. His father could then do what he liked with him when their plan went down.
She grimaced when Rhia McCabe appeared in her doorway and hoped by the time she raised her head the scowl on her face had turned into a believable smile.
“Rhia, how lovely of you to come so promptly when called.” She hated being polite, and adjusted the tone of her voice so she sounded sweeter and more pleasant.
“Well, you did say it was urgent.” Rhia sat in the chair across from Harper. She hadn’t been invited to do so, but it didn’t matter. It was most likely the last time she’d have to be polite to her social worker again.
“I was wondering, do you have plans tomorrow evening?” She hoped Rhia didn’t ask her why.
“Why do you ask?” Damn the little bitch to hell, why do some people insist on answering a question with a question?
“I’m having a few people over to my place, and I thought you might like to attend. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye on some things, and I thought I’d try to make amends.” Harper feigned surprise. “You seem shocked by my proposal. I admi
t, since you started working here, I have been under considerable stress. I haven’t made you welcome, I realize that, but I’m hoping you’ll let me make up for it. So will you come?”
Rhia stared at her in silence. Harper waited for her reply, the strain of smiling sweetly was nearly overwhelming. Maybe Rhia wasn’t as trusting and naïve as she appeared to be. Still, Harper knew she wouldn’t refuse, even if it was just to keep in good with the boss. She was sure the ultimate response would be acceptance.
“I really appreciate the offer, Harper, but unfortunately I’m busy tomorrow night.” Rhia appeared to be serious, how could that be?
“Well arrangements can be changed. Surely your plans aren’t so important you can’t put them off.” Harper allowed the smile to slip from her face and attempted a look of disappointment. “I was so looking forward to this. As I said, the stress has made me behave like a madwoman. I’m keen to make amends.”
“There’s no need to make amends. I did hear about the fire and your injury. I realize there have been circumstances affecting your behavior. Have you healed now? The burn must have been painful.” Rhia smiled.
How the hell did she know about the burn? Who else had she told about the injury? A vision of Rhia and Steve engaging in pillow talk, once they’d finished their boring missionary position sex act, flashed through her head. She wanted to scrub the picture from her mind with bleach. Harper looked across the desk at the woman she once thought would be so easy to manipulate. What an underestimation that had been. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. With one politely asked question, Rhia McCabe had just elevated her status from merely an annoying irritation in Harpers life to a significant threat.