Her eyes drifted to his well-muscled arms, one of which cradled a rifle. Nervously, Emma asked, "Are you Jack Robbins?"
He slung the gun behind him, anchoring it to the back of his left shoulder with the strap before he took a step towards her. He smiled, offering an enormous paw of a hand. "Don't worry about the gun, honey. There are still bears in these woods. Call me Professor. It's what everyone calls me. And you must be little Emily Thompson."
Emma's hand was completely engulfed in his firm grip as he helped her to her feet. He gently pumped up and down twice, and then let her go.
"Amazing. You look so much like your mother," he observed, giving her a less than a casual once over before he silently picked up her suitcase and began walking down another path.
"You knew my mother?"
"Yup. We courted a long time ago. Then she met your father and that was that."
Well, Emma thought, as she silently trailed behind him, that explains why Aunt Barbara had been interested in him. It was well known that the older sister was incredibly jealous, and hateful, of the slender, blonde beauty who had caught the eye of every handsome man that came near. It would be just like her aunt to try to rival her late sister's popularity. It also explained the vindictiveness in her aunt's behavior after Emma 'stole' her young lover away. But why send her to this man? He'd obviously rejected Barbara's advances, not the other way around. It made no sense.
"Actually I look more like my father. He had a darker complexion and brown hair. I didn't get any of Mom's good looks."
"Yes, I knew your father," Jack stated impassively. He turned around abruptly, causing Emma to collide into him. "You have her face and eyes, and the same long, sooty lashes. And those are her lips, too. They're just on a different canvas, but they're no less striking. You are a very beautiful girl."
"Aunt Barbara said I was an ugly toad."
"Your Aunt Barbara is a simpering old cow. Come."
Emma was grateful of the dwindling light that hid the color of her blush. She found herself at odds regarding how to respond to the unexpected compliment.
Jack cleared his throat. "Hearing women put themselves down doesn't sit well with me. Every last one of them is beautiful, as far as I'm concerned. I'd make sure to remember that, if I were you. Capisce?"
Emma simply nodded, unaware that the first of many rules that he would expect her to follow had just been laid down. They walked in silence for another half an hour or so before they arrived at his house.
"My word, when she said you lived in the back woods, she wasn't kidding! This place is awesome," Emma exclaimed, staring at the large, high peaked house with a white picket fence surrounding a neatly groomed yard.
Jack turned the knob of the front door and opened it, stepping aside for her to enter before him. "Who said that?"
"Aunt Barbara. Remember? She was the one who suggested I get in contact with you."
Jack nodded. "Barbara. Of course. What else did she tell you about me?"
Emma thought it wise to avoid telling him that Aunt Barbara had labeled him as a Rejected. "That I was to be optimistic and humble, and that you don't like…" she thought back to the words used. Her face brightened. "Insipid, whiney or impertinent children or whores"
"It doesn't seem like your aunt has a very positive opinion of you, does it?"
"No, sir, she does not."
"Well, we'll show her how wonderful you really are, won't we? Would you like for her to visit and let her see what you've accomplished?"
"No. I don't know how close you two are, but if I never see that woman's face again, I will die a happy girl."
"I see. How about you go wash some of that road dust off while I put your stuff in your room? Bathroom is down the hall on the right. Fresh towels are on the rack." Without waiting for a reply, Jack gathered up her suitcase and knapsack, and headed in the opposite direction.
Their first night together was fairly normal. While she admired the drawings and detailed artwork that covered his walls, he prepared a lovely roast with sliced red potatoes, carrots and onions swimming in a delicious, rich gravy. Desert was a single bright red apple, and honey with cinnamon. It had been a long time since she had tasted fresh food, for the cities sold only processed, canned and dehydrated items. Blissful was the word she used as it crunched delightfully in her mouth. The flavors were ambrosia to her palate, and she closed her eyes as she relished every bite. Jack watched as she happily devoured the meal, commenting on how a little fresh air and exercise did wonders for the appetite. He also warned her several times not to speak with her mouth full, chuckling that he 'knew a little girl' who needed to learn table manners
He was a good conversationalist, and Emma was enthralled as he revealed himself to be the artist of the paintings she was admiring, and that he had also constructed every piece of furniture in the house to his own specifications. He succeeded in making her laugh as he shared some stories about his life 'off the grid', and the disastrous attempts to cultivate food in the greenhouse built behind his cabin. She laughed as he described his 'black thumb', and his discovery that 'yelling' at vegetables did not make them grow any faster.
Overall, she was pleased with her new home, despite it being a considerable distance to town, so she voiced her intent to purchase a beater car or a scooter to use when she wanted to go out and socialize. Jack shook his head and reminded her of the goals she had set, urging her to withhold from partying for a while and save her pennies. Once again, his words made sense, so she agreed.
Addressing the problem that Jack lacked a phone was another obstacle, and he adamantly refused to use anything other than his old broadcasting radio if there was an emergency. With a sigh, Emma redirected the conversation towards the internet. Post-war renovations included providing the internet to anyone who owned a computer. Emma had found an old, but working, tablet in a consignment store, so she suggested initiating the service. Jack reassured her that survival was possible without access to email and chat (to which she ardently disagreed) and said he would consider limited service after she could show him that she was ready to try school again. He reminded her gently that her primary reason for being with him was because she had wasted time and money during her first attempt at college, adding that he was looking out for her own good by placing this temporary restriction. Emma made one last dramatic effort to convince him that death was surely imminent if she did not have some sort of connection to the outside world. He smiled, shook his head and simply said no, with a cheerful reminder that she'd promised to follow his rules.
Besides him being a 'hermit' in every sense of the word, there had been one thing in particular that disturbed her—his earnest, considering stare. She had caught him studying her multiple times, and had chalked it up to just not knowing him well enough to feel comfortable. She reminded herself about how he had 'courted' her mother, and thought that perhaps he was just jarred by those features that he found similar. Either way, his expression was not what she considered psychotic, or even violent, nor did it set off a personal alarm regarding her safety. It was just... intense.
Emma stifled a yawn as the clock struck nine. Jack stood and held out his hand, saying in a less-than-casual manner, "It's getting late. You ought to be in bed, young lady. You have had a full day and you need your sleep. I'll see you to your room."
Emma raised her eyebrow, considering that perhaps Jack was ready to retire for the night, and did not wish to appear to be a poor host by leaving her alone. Without arguing, she rose with a gracious, "I am fine. Good night and thank you for everything."
She flicked on the light in her room and stared, perplexed. Did Jack have a friend with a child, or a child of his own at one time who had occupied this room? Either way, there was something that felt... off. Fortunately, she was petite, and would fit comfortably into the small, twin bed. What confused her were the rails that ran from the mid-portion and down the length of the frame. Had he been worried that the previous usual occupant might fall out and hurt her
self?
Whatever it was, she could not put her finger on it. Emma yawned again. She had plenty of time to figure it out. As was her habit, Emma settled back on the bed after changing into her PJs, and opened her computer to resume her favorite game before she went to sleep. Less than ten minutes had passed when a tap on her door was heard, followed by the appearance of the hulking man. Emma stared at him in disbelief. He had not even bothered to wait for an invite!
Jack entered the room and faced her. His voice was quiet, but firm, with no mistaking his intent. "I thought I made it clear. I want you in bed and lights out by nine. Give that tablet and your phone to me." He stood still and waited. When Emma finally opened her mouth to protest, he preempted her by saying in the same calm, implacable tone, "My house, my rules. Hand them over, young lady. This second."
The raising of her eyebrows was the extent of her confrontation about his unexpected high-handed attitude. She was just too tired to fight. Expelling a loud sigh, Emma closed the cover of her computer and then put the devices into his waiting hand. He gently tucked the blankets around her body after she scooted down under them.
"Are you all set for the night? Do you need a glass of water?" His tone was soft.
"No, thank you."
"Good girl. See you in the morning, then. Emma? I'm glad you've come to me. Sleep well, my dear."
"You, too. Night."
"And Emma? No wandering around. There are too many things around here that can hurt you."
"I won't."
He smiled before shutting off the light, his stare pointed and immeasurably uncomfortable. Emma struggled to keep her eyes open as she listened to him leave the room and close the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWO
She awoke the following morning, slipped on her clothes and tiptoed into the kitchen. Jack was sitting at the table with a book in his hands, drinking a cup of coffee.
"Good morning." He smiled. "Would you like a mug of hot cocoa?"
"Coffee, please."
"No. Hot cocoa, juice, milk or water."
Emma stared at him. "Why can't I have coffee?"
"Because it's not good for you."
"You're drinking coffee!"
"Emma, you need to lower your voice. I said no and am not going to repeat myself. Have a seat and I'll make you some breakfast. What would you like?"
She slowly lowered herself to the bench, her eyes locked to his. "Anything you have, please," she whispered.
After breakfast, he asked her to clean the kitchen while he brought wood inside for the fireplace. Emma quickly straightened things up and then checked her cell phone for a signal.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, as she stood on the bench and held the phone to the ceiling.
She froze, eyes wide. "On the mantel in the living room."
"Didn't I ask you to clean the kitchen?"
"Yeah, I did."
He looked around. "No, you didn't clean it. You threw some dishes in the sink and put the food away. Wash the dishes, put them away, wipe the counters and sweep the floor."
"Okay."
"Emma? The cell phone. You are not to be on it."
"But…"
"I do not repeat myself."
***
He proudly showed her around the property, including the greenhouse and smokehouse, and then left her to her own devices. He was meticulous about his schedule and frowned upon tardiness, leaving a written note on the refrigerator for her to follow:
0530 Chores
0700 Breakfast
0730 Chores
1200 Lunch
1500 Training
1700 Dinner
1800 Penance
When she asked what the training and penance meant, Jack simply chuckled, and told her that if she did what she was told to do, then she would have no difficulties.
By the third day, she had managed to be late for lunch. On day four, she slept in and missed breakfast. On day five, she not only slept in again, but was late for dinner—all because she had lost track of time playing with the tablet she'd 'rescued' from the bookshelf. Jack sternly reminded her that he had little patience for tardiness and that it was, to him, one of the greatest demonstrations of disrespect. Little more was said until he went into the living room after dinner.
"Emma?" His firm voice called from the living room. "When you are finished in there, I would like to have a word with you. If you don't mind."
Wiping her hands on the dishtowel, she followed his voice into the larger room where he sat on the long couch, looking through some papers. "You called?"
"Yes. Have a seat," he patted the cushion on his right side. "I'm concerned about your apparent inability to follow my directions."
"What do you mean?"
"You've been with me for almost a week. I have given you a schedule that is fairly easy to follow, yet you have managed to be tardy multiple times. You also took the tablet back after I removed it from you."
"I was bored and just wanted to play a game. Seriously, it's not that big of a deal, Jack."
"It is to me." He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think this is going to work."
"No! Please don't say that. I promise that I'll do whatever you want me to. Please don't send me back." True panic set in, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears.
"I'm sorry, Emma," he shook his head, "but your inability to follow my rules is something I find very risky. What next? You invite people over for a party?"
"I would never do anything like that without your permission. I'm begging you. Give me a second chance." Emma grabbed his hand and looked at him pleadingly.
"I don't think it's a good idea, honey. I'll take you into town tomorrow and—"
"No! Don't you see that if I go back to the city, I'll be homeless? I have to be here. I'll do more work," she pleaded. "Anything that you want me to do, I'll do. I swear. Without complaints and without arguments."
Jack studied her, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Are you saying that you are willing to consent if I decide to impose discipline upon you?"
What could he do? Ground me? Emma thought, slowly nodding. "Yes, sir."
"Go stand in the corner." He pointed across the room. "Don't come out until I tell you to."
Making a wry face, the girl stood up and quickly obeyed. After all, what was a little embarrassment and humiliation when it came to survival? It did not take long, however, for her to learn to hate the corner. It was boring, to begin with—and nothing but a waste of time. Regardless, she kept her nose plastered to the wall and waited; listening to the echoes of the ticking clocks that were placed throughout the room. Despite the sounds, Emma was unable to tell how long she'd been standing there.
After about twenty minutes, Jack cleared his throat. "Come over here, child. Give me your hands." His giant paws swallowed her tiny hands in their grip. "I've come to a decision."
"You're going to get rid of me, aren't you?"
"No. Not unless you argue with me. I require your full consent to proceed with your discipline, though." He picked up a document and handed her a pen.
"What's that?"
"This is a declaration that you submit to my full and absolute authority. In return, you will be given everything a young lady needs and deserves."
Emma stepped back. "It's not like a marriage contract, is it? I can't—"
"No, silly girl. This is just my armor in case you ever decide to leave and say mean things about me. I don't trust people with information of any kind."
"You must have been really hurt. I…"
"Don't try to change the subject, young lady. Sign."
"W-what are you going to do?" she asked nervously, as he put the consent document in a safe behind a large, colorful painting of an oriental dragon.
"I am going to administer a good, old-fashioned spanking. You will be turned over my knees, your bottom bared, and spanked like a naughty child until I feel you have learned a lesson in obedience. What do you have to say about that?"
Emm
a hesitated, feeling her face flush. "I… I've never been spanked before."
"That is where your parents, and your aunt, went wrong with you. Had you been guided and disciplined, you would not be in this mess."
"Is it going to hurt?"
"If I do it correctly, I should say so."
"I'm scared. And embarrassed."
"You have nothing to be afraid about. You will forget about your embarrassment very shortly, as well. I have a heavy hand, darling. The lessons I teach are ones that are learned quickly. Well?" He patted his lap.
Emma wavered, on the brink of tears, and felt a deep, simmering blush spreading across her features. "I don't know what to do."
"To start, take down those jeans. They will not be needed right now."
"I'm really sorry. I promise to do better. I do!"
"You should have thought of that when you disregarded my requests about punctuality. You should also have considered that before you went sneaking around behind my back and retrieved that tablet after I specifically told you not to," Jack replied, removing his flannel jacket to reveal his huge, tanned forearms. "I don't care for disobedient little girls, especially ones who are smart enough to know better. Did you know better?"
"Yes, sir," Emma faced the ground, fidgeting with her hands.
"Keep still. So you deliberately disobeyed my requests and did not take my feelings into consideration, did you?"
"No, sir," she mumbled.
"I am very, very unhappy with you, Emma."
"I know, Jack. Please…"
"Take down those pants. I am not going to tell you again."
She obeyed, her hands shaking as she unbuttoned the front of her jeans and slid them slowly to her thighs. She kept her eyes to the floor, modestly covering her panties with her hands.
"I sincerely hope that you realize that you have no-one to blame but yourself for this," he told her, eyeing her slender, shapely thighs with a disinterested glance. "You're going over my knee for the spanking of your life and will learn that when I say something, I mean business."
Emma's Corner Page 2