by Karen Bell
Most of Mila’s confirmation group continued to go to church in the year that followed and Mila appeared to be in the grip of religious fervour. She was by then fourteen and had been willing her hair and breasts to grow so that she might have some assets with which to lure him. She had grown to one hundred and sixty three centimetres and was finally filling out in all the right places. In a daily ritual at school, she’d slather on coconut oil and hitch up her uniform at lunch times to tan her legs to the deepest shade of gold, and if there was any chance of running into him on weekends, either at the movies or after church, Mila would choose a short skirt and the highest shoes her mother would allow and loiter for as long as possible, just hoping for a minute of his attention.
The changes to her body were far from ideal for gymnastics, but Mila didn’t care. She was still lean, strong and by far the most flexible in her grade and she was still winning titles. To her, they were all just second prizes. Her friends were dating guys their own age or a little older. Robert, now twenty-four, was seen with an ever-changing parade of girls. She noted with some panic that his choices were invariably tall, leggy and blonde. Only their names and faces changed, and Mila’s round eyes turned green with jealousy whenever she saw him with an arm draped around someone else’s shoulders or stealing a kiss behind the rectory. She ached for those lips to be melded with hers, for their tongues to be entwined. She could practically taste him.
He was the vision she saw so intimately as she went bed each night and rolled onto her stomach before slipping her hand beneath her. The mattress was his firm body as she writhed against it, and imagined him caressing her slowly, until she begged him to make love to her. In her fantasy, he would make her wait until she could stand it no more, and then finally, he would take her… swiftly, hotly, deeply. She would be crying out with pleasure and pain but he would reassure her, gently moaning her name until they arrived together in blissful ecstasy.
Many other boys tried their luck with Mila, and every week she’d casually turn another one down, crushing hearts without a second thought. She was now teaching three afternoons each week at the gym and there were plenty of male coaches, along with several of the boys at school, who would have jumped at the chance to date her, but she was oblivious.
Being an avid reader, Mila was able to sail through her humanities based subjects English, History and French without much effort. But her mathematics was not as strong and she soon formulated a plan.
‘Mama,’ she casually asked one day, ‘I’m worried that I’m struggling with Maths at school. Do you think I could use some of my savings to pay for some tutoring?’
‘Da sveetheart. If Papa is not so busy at verk he can teach you but ve find money to pay for lessons. Maybe I ask Mary if her boy Robert has time. He is good teacher.’
‘Oh I’m sure he’d be too busy. I mean he’s studying to be a chartered accountant now and working as well.’
‘Tomorrow I ask.’
Mila turned her face so her mother didn’t notice the corners of her mouth forming the smallest smile. Well that was easy, she congratulated herself.
The weekly lessons were soon arranged and Mila set out to their home the following Thursday, heart a-flutter, hair freshly washed and just a touch of mascara, lip-gloss and a spritz of ‘Poison’, the fragrance that Mila had read was the latest choice of sophisticated women worldwide.
She was disappointed to be seated at the dining table, secretly having hoped to be admitted to the sanctity of his bedroom. Still, she was thrilled to be so close to him again, despite his mother being in the next room. The lights were low, and the two of them were encircled by the glow of the floor lamp.
Mila opened her books and tried to maintain focus while they talked differential equations and calculus. She heard little and understood less. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the lingering depth of his aftershave mixed with his own natural scent. His voice was patient and silky and she watched mesmerized as he deftly filled the page with numbers, symbols and lines. Those hands and long fingers were the very ones she’d imagined lifting her face to his, drifting across her body, tracing exquisite lines over her skin. She tried really hard to follow what he was saying but it was a lost cause.
‘Are you understanding this Mila?’ he repeated. She looked up at him with eyes glazed over, hearing only the way her name rolled off his tongue. As she turned to face him, he stopped short and took a shallow intake of breath, his expression changing as if he was seeing her for the first time. ‘How old did you say you were?’
‘Fourteen,’ she whispered, ‘but I’ll be fifteen any day now.’
He held her gaze for a little too long before shaking his head. ‘Okay, so let’s get back to this shall we?’ The moment had passed but Mila could almost touch the sexual tension filling the air.
The following week and subsequently, all the lights were on in the room when Mila came for Maths coaching although she often caught him looking at various strategically exposed parts of her body. Sometimes it would be the side of her long neck as she nonchalantly tilted her head; or perhaps a flash of her lower back, as she reached up to rearrange her ponytail.
Slowly, Mila felt a shift in the balance of their relationship and she liked the sense of power it gave her. Robert hadn’t so much as touched her, let alone tried to kiss her but the effect of her presence was obvious.
Mila flunked her end of year Maths test. It wasn’t easy to do, since she was born both bright and competitive and had, after-all sixteen weeks of coaching under her belt, but it had to be done if she was to continue seeing Robert over the Summer holidays. As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long; the Church Christmas fete was planned for the first weekend of vacation and Mila volunteered to help with the pony rides.
It was a day heavy with humidity, and while most of the activity was set up beneath the spreading branches of the giant figs of Centennial Park, the pony rides were out in the full sun. Mila had on her shortest denim shorts, strategically cut from her tightest old jeans, a checked shirt tied at the waist, pull-on riding boots and a wide brimmed Akubra hat.
It was fun at first, saddling up the ponies and watching the excitement of the littlies as they climbed up, but after four hours in the relentless heat and dust, traipsing around and around in circles leading cranky Shetland ponies and no sign of Robert, the novelty had worn off. Mila breathed a sigh of relief when one of the coordinators showed up to give her a lunch break and she headed off towards the food marquee.
‘Hey Mila,’ her replacement shouted after her, ‘can you bring the last saddle from the trailer when you come back? The girth strap’s fraying on this one.’
‘No problem,’ she called, but she was in no hurry to get back.
Where is he? Mila tried to look around without making it obvious. But she was desperately hoping he hadn’t scooted off early. Her heart was racing as she furtively scanned the area.
‘Can I interest you in a frozen cone?’
That voice. Mila spun around, trying not to let her excitement show.
‘Could you ever,’ she exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm. Robert handed her a raspberry snow-cone while sizing her from top to toe.
‘You look hot and bothered and somewhat dishevelled,’ he grinned, ‘take a seat.’
‘You should try looking after ungrateful brats all morning,’ she whined, falling gratefully onto a chair beside him.
‘You forget that I did, and you were one of them.’
‘I was never ungrateful in your Sunday school classes. In fact I was your star pupil if you remember.’
‘Oh, now I remember, you were that brown-noser who used to come prepared with a litany of impossible questions and then tune out when I attempted to answer them.’ His voice was matter-of-fact but Mila saw the mischief in his expression.
‘I was not a brown-noser or a brat,’ she cried.
‘I like you when you’re mad. And I particularly like the raspberry staining your lips at
the moment.’ He licked his lips slowly and with great intention and Mila blushed to possibly the same colour. Neither of them said anything for a few seconds but they locked eyes, which said plenty, and caused a rush of heat from Mila’s cheeks to somewhere below.
She was the first to divert her gaze. ‘Ooh …I …I just remembered they need me to get something from the horse float when I go back. Thanks for the snow cone,’ she stammered and jumped up to leave.
‘Hey, where’s the fire?’ he called after her.
In my loins was what she wanted to say, but she just took off instead.
Why did I run away? She thought, as she made her way through the trees to distant field where the horse trailer was parked.
Maybe she wasn’t as ready as she thought, now that there was actually a possibility of something happening. I mean he’s a man, with plenty of experience and I’ve never even been kissed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mila opened the side door to the big trailer and climbed inside. The saddle was nowhere to be seen but there was a pile of horse blankets in the far corner and bridles hanging over the tethering rails.
The spare must be under all those rugs, she reasoned, making her way over and bending to lift the heavy woollen blankets from the floor.
‘Here, let me help you.’
She stood up and spun round. ‘God Robert you gave me a fright!’
‘Don’t take the lord’s name in vain,’ he scolded with mock anger. ‘Didn’t you learn anything at Sunday school? You must have missed the class where I explained what happens to potty-mouthed girls.’
Mila’s legs were turning to jelly. He had sauntered over and was standing awfully close to her now.
‘What happens?’ she whispered, heart pounding, breath short.
‘This.’ Robert caught her hands behind her back with one hand, and used the other to rip open the studs of her shirt, exposing her bra and the expanse of silken flesh. Mila gasped and felt her legs giving way but he easily caught and held her slight frame in the crook of his arm while keeping her wrists tethered. He drew her pelvis in until it pressed against his. Mila felt the hardness of him against her and her nipples leapt to attention, straining through the flimsy fabric and easily betraying her desire. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and she felt a heat burning her cheeks.
Robert grinned. ‘So what do I do with you now? A naughty little girl, not yet sixteen who obviously still needs lessons in more than just maths and scripture.’
Mila was unable to speak, her mouth suddenly drier than she’d ever remembered. She closed her eyes, waiting to be kissed and felt the quickness of his breath, hot, on her ready mouth. Robert held her there for a few more seconds seeming to enjoy her powerlessness before pulling abruptly away. She opened her eyes, startled and now saw a menacing expression quite different from his previous playfulness.
‘Well to begin with, this naughty girl would need to be restrained.’ He looked around the trailer and was evidently pleased with what he saw, reaching out and grabbing a halter rope with his free hand, the other still firmly encircling her wrists. He deftly tied them behind her back without even looking, all the while his body pressed hard against her hips, his face just centimetres from hers. Mila felt the hairs stand up on her arms and at the back of her neck. This was completely thrilling. She was desperate to be kissed, but he seemed to have other things in mind.
With one foot, he swept the blankets away, exposing the leather saddle beneath. He repeated the action, this time sweeping Mila’s feet from under her so that she fell backwards into his arm and from there to the floor of the trailer, landing with her head in the straw, the arch of her lower back, over the curve of the saddle. Robert was now kneeling over her, pinning her thighs and legs. With her arms behind her, Mila couldn’t move except to try and sit up. He easily pushed her down.
‘We’ve got a feisty one… ready for some breaking in.’
Mila’s stomach flip-flopped, but still she was enthralled. The tone of Robert’s voice was throaty and somewhat frightening. She submitted, realizing immediately that to resist would be futile. Then, before she could even catch her thoughts he stood and grabbed the frayed edge of her shorts and yanked them south, taking her briefs with them leaving her completely naked from the waist down, hips high over the side of the saddle, utterly exposed. He tossed the shorts and briefs behind him, ripped off her boots and socks, leaving her mewling as he again dropped to his knees, straddled over her, staring openly at her most intimate and hitherto private parts. He was still fully clothed. She was embarrassed and horrified and tried to struggle under him.
‘Keep fighting,’ he mocked, ‘but we both know you’ve wanted this for a long time now. You’ve been throwing yourself at me, tormenting me, searching for this chance to have me.’
Mila couldn’t deny that was exactly what she’d been wanting but she’d never imagined …
‘So now it’s time, but we play by my rules.’
She tried to shift his weight, tried to knee him in the back but from her prone position it was useless.
‘Since you want to struggle, I’m going to have to tie your ankles too,’ he announced, reaching to grab two bridles off the rail, before expertly harnessing first one ankle and then the other to separate posts, leaving Mila splayed and incredibly vulnerable. She was not at all comfortable with this game. There was no play in the leathers and she was completely trussed up. It felt very wrong and yet Mila’s body was defying her brain.
Robert stood up and surveyed his captive. He smiled benignly. ‘There’s a good girl. You don’t need to fight me, I’ve got this under control.’
She felt a rush of adrenalin surge and radiate and she willed herself not to tremble. As terrified as she was, Mila could feel the heat pooling within her, a hot liquid threatening to give her away. She felt a further straining behind the fabric of her bra and the same between her legs. It was not lost on Robert.
‘So you do want me,’ he drawled. ‘Maybe you’re not so innocent after all.’ He walked casually around the float, running his long fingers over various pieces of leather until they settled finally on a short riding crop. Mila held her breath and bit the inside of her lips. He walked back, slowly waving the crop in the air. He stood over her and gently lowered the soft tip to her cheek, and then proceeded to draw a line ever so slowly down her face, over her chin and along the line of her neck, pausing in the hollow between her collarbones.
He continued, down to the centre of her bra where he stopped. He bent down, and grabbing the inside edges, ripped the fabric easily, exposing Mila’s young breasts, and swollen peaks. She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.
‘Look at me,’ he ordered.
She did as she was told and his voice softened. ‘See, there you go, if you do as you’re told, there’ll be no need for me to use this.’ Adrenalin now flooded Mila’s body. Every tiny hair stood to attention and her muscles tensed in anticipation.
Her mind was racing with a million questions. Had she asked for this? Wanted this? If her aching wetness was anything to go by then yes she had wanted this, and still wanted it more than ever, but the voice of intellect was getting louder in her head, certain that this was about to lead to no good. Mila’s breaths came short and sharp as the riding crop traced around her breasts one at a time, spiralling in ever-smaller circles, stopping painfully short of the summit.
He looked down from above, shirt half open, hair flopping loosely over his forehead. He was sharply handsome with a touch of callousness that she had never noticed before. His eyes were locked on her naked body and he was now drawing a line just above her skin, down beyond her belly button to the top of her velvety pubic bone. Mila involuntarily lifted her hips to meet the tip of the crop when whoosh, he flicked it through the air and whipped her sharply on the side of her butt. She squealed in pain.
‘Quiet!’ he commanded. ‘Or you’ll get seconds.’ Mila tried to swallow a sob but it slipped out anyway. This brought the crop hissing
back into the air before landing with a thwack on the same spot. This time she screamed and he brought it down again, but even harder on the other side. Mila bit herself hard, to stop from crying out.
‘Did I tell you to move? Did I tell you to make a sound?’ he hissed. ‘You wanted this remember?’
Mila shook her head as a fat tear rolled over her temple and into her hair. ‘Please don’t hurt me. I promise to be good.’ As she heard it come from her own lips, she couldn’t believe what she was saying.
‘That’s all I want,’ he purred. ‘You be good to me, obey my commands, and I’ll be very good to you, but a little pain is a good thing, you’ll see.’ He kneeled down between her legs and began nibbling her softly at the place where the crop had stopped its earlier journey. Her skin was still burning as welts formed, but she was distracted from the pain, by the sight of his head below her belly button and the sensation of his lips and tongue on her skin.
His hands slid up along her waist and over her breasts before closing in on them kneading and squeezing hard enough that a direct line of pain shot south into her womb before settling on a point below. The collage of sensations, his hands, firm on her breasts, his mouth and tongue negotiating a path downward, hungry and demanding, overwhelmed Mila.
Again he picked up the riding crop and Mila shuddered internally. Despite the fear, she wanted to beg him to finish what he’d started. She had felt her body well on the road to somewhere she desperately wanted to be. She felt the warm whisper of his breath and the hot tip of his tongue trace the openings of her body, circling around the aching epicentre. She wanted to scream, wanted to wind her legs around his head to force his mouth to find that spot and just as she thought she could bear it no more, she tried but failed to stifle a low moan.