Groomed

by Bethany Leigh

  "Stop," she cried, "please…"

  But he didn't. He brought his palm down over and again.

  When he'd finally finished he yanked her up off his lap. He stood her in front of him, his fingers digging into her upper arms. "That's what you've wanted, isn't it?" he demanded. "That's all you've wanted from me for months now. Well, now you've had it so make the most of it. I'm finished with you."

  Charlotte trembled from the shock of the spanking. Her bottom and the tops of her legs burned like she'd been sitting in a bath filled with scalding water. But the humiliation was worse than the pain. She didn't want to face him, but his words made her raise her eyes in dismay. "You're leaving me?"

  "Yes. You've lost my trust, Charlotte. I don't want to be married to you anymore. On Saturday morning we'll put the house on the market and we'll go our separate ways."

  "Connor, please—"

  She didn't want to break up with Connor, not like this. Charlotte cursed herself for getting sucked into Spanking Sheilas and the posters' web of lies. Why had she despised her gentle, caring husband who'd only been trying to do the right thing? To be a good husband to her, a good father to Josh, a good son to his parents, and a good worker to his employers? Why had she compared him so negatively with men she didn't even know, 'intuitive spanking husbands' like Hayden, who wasn't even real? Charlotte's marriage had never been perfect, but she and Connor had done things together they enjoyed—the walks, the cinema trips, attending sports events.

  They'd been friends once. But now he didn't want even that.

  He snatched up his car keys. "Don't bother pleading with me, Charlotte. I'm not Cave-In Connor anymore. Being Mr Nice Guy has got me nowhere, has it? I'm going out now. When I get back, make sure you've moved into the spare bedroom. Hopefully this house'll sell quickly, because I really don't want anything more to do with you."

  When he shut the door behind him, Charlotte burst into tears.

  Charlotte's bottom still throbbed when she crawled into bed an hour later. Connor hadn't returned. Earlier, the police called her to say they'd caught Ben and Amanda Harrison at a roadblock and found Marie Beckham chained up in a cellar at their property. Charlotte had switched on the television afterwards, caught the breaking news. Marie Beckham's parents looking delighted, then defensive and upset when asked how they felt about her having met Ben Harrison through a spanking forum and being kept as a sex slave. Charlotte was sorry for them, understood where Connor was coming from. There was a very brief mention of the Harrisons trying to abduct an undercover journalist but the focus was on Marie, found alive after five long months.

  Charlotte had got off scot-free from that perspective anyway.

  Before heading for bed, Charlotte took one final look at Spanking Sheilas.

  Thread: Did you see the news tonight?

  His Precious Gem: Did anyone see the news tonight about the young British backpacker being abducted by someone she met in a spanking forum? Do you think it's somebody from here?

  Big Hand Bruce: Strewth! I hope not! Might she have been the Becca who used to post here? Becca, Beckham. Worth a thought.

  Anna35: Someone was asking about Becca recently, drew attention to when they'd disappeared.

  I feel so bad now that I didn't see the connection. I just assumed Becca was Rebecca Somebody or Other.

  His Precious Gem: Do you think the person asking about Becca was actually the journalist they mentioned on the news, the one who was writing a story about DD couples? She was called Girl Friday, wasn't she, so, answering my own question, I assume she took the user name from the Cary Grant movie. Has anyone here been questioned by her about DD?

  Anna35: No, I haven't been, but I suppose this is a wake-up call to all of us to be careful. After all, you never know who you're talking to on the internet.

  Charlotte closed the thread and quit the forum. She had no intention of ever visiting it again. She wondered how long it would last anyway, now Admin and Panda had been arrested.

  Despite the heat, she huddled under the doona, glad of the darkness, needing to be cocooned. She wanted to fall asleep, have this awful day be over.

  But if Connor didn't want her anymore, then her life would never be the same again.

  She heard his car in the drive and the sound of the key in the lock. She willed him to come in to her, make up with her.

  But he didn't.

  My Life as a Kinky Sex Slave

  Abducted British backpacker Marie Beckham opens up about her ordeal in the Australian bush

  By Charlotte Agar

  For as long as she could remember, British backpacker Marie Beckham had longed to be spanked.

  "I used to fantasise about being spanked by my teachers or by prefects," the 23-year-old confesses. "I don't remember not being fascinated by spanking. Passages about spanking in books, spanking scenes in movies. I was obsessed with them, replayed them over and over in my mind. As I grew older, the authority figures in my fantasy spankings changed from teachers and prefects to a boyfriend."

  But Marie never told anybody about her spanking fetish. "It wasn't something I could talk about even to close friends," she says. "I was afraid of being laughed at or rejected."

  But then came the internet, and Marie discovered message boards for 'spankos'. There she discovered other women who shared her interest in being spanked by a partner. And it was through the Australia-based Spanking Sheilas forum that Marie fell prey to Ben and Amanda Harrison, a couple who had set up the forum specifically to groom vulnerable 'submissive' women.

  Marie, a passionate traveller, had already planned a backpacking trip to Australia, and signed up to Spanking Sheilas.

  "I had this idea that I'd explore my fetish in a different country. See if I really liked it in real life or if it was just a fantasy," says Marie. "When Ben Harrison contacted me, he seemed to be everything I desired in a disciplinarian. I wasn't worried about meeting him, because he suggested we meet in a public place several times to get to know each other. To see if we trusted each other."

  On 22 September, Marie met Ben at a café in Woodend. He bought her lunch and they talked for over an hour about her travels and her plans for the future. When they left the café he arranged to meet her the following week in a café in Daylesford. Marie went to catch the bus, and saw Ben get in his car and drive away.

  As she was walking to the bus stop, a woman pulled up alongside her. She told Marie she'd been in the café and had heard her tell her friend she was catching the bus back to Daylesford. "I'm going back to Daylesford too," she told Marie. "Would you like a lift?"

  "Because she was a middle-aged woman, I trusted her," Marie says bitterly. "Just like I'd stupidly trusted Ben."

  Halfway along the bush-lined road to Daylesford, Amanda Harrison pulled over saying she thought there was something wrong with the engine. At first, Marie didn't notice Ben pull up behind.

  "When he came over to the car, I thought it was a coincidence and he'd pulled over to help," says Marie. "But he pulled a gun on me and ordered me into the boot. It seemed hours before the car stopped again."

  Marie was taken to the Harrisons' isolated property in the Australian bush. She was stripped naked and forced to wear a collar and chain. The chain was attached to the wall when she was doing chores. At night she slept on the floor, chained to the foot of the Harrisons' bed.

  Marie's days were spent doing household chores. If her efforts didn't meet the couple's standards, she was punished with spankings. "The spankings were ritualised and harsh," she says.

  Amanda was what the spanking community call a 'switch'. Sometimes she too would be naked and chained, catering to Ben's every whim. Other times she took on a dominant role. "Ben still did the spanking but Amanda would say how many slaps I should be given and which implement he should use."

  When Ben Harrison invited male friends around, Marie was expected to entertain and obey them. She served them drinks, gave them blow jobs if ordered to, and was spanked if they weren't satisfied. If
she gagged, Ben Harrison made her wear a gag for hours as punishment.

  She didn't leave the Harrisons' house until the day the police raided and found her naked in the laundry, ironing. Being chained all day meant there was no chance of escape. The Harrisons controlled everything, right down to when she was allowed to use the toilet.

  She knew that someone was trying to track her down, though. Just after Christmas 1999 Ben Harrison told her she was to access her dormant Spanking Sheilas account and reassure 'some nosy bitch' that she was still alive.

  "Someone had been looking at the forum posts and had put two and two together about 'Becca' disappearing at the same time as Marie Beckham," says Marie. "I told him I couldn't remember my old password, so I signed up with a slightly different username—Becca1 instead of Becca. I changed my style of writing slightly and hoped whoever had asked about me would still be suspicious."

  The 'nosy bitch' who had become suspicious was me. I was researching the forum for a possible feature and noticed that Becca's disappearance coincided with that of Marie Beckham. Fortunately, I was able to foil an attempted abduction attempt and report the Harrisons to the police.

  Finally free and about to head home to her relieved parents in the UK, Marie has a warning for everybody. "Never go on your own to meet up with someone you've met online," she says. "People can pretend to be whatever or whoever they like on the internet."

  Twenty-One

  April, 2002

  A collective groan broke out from the hundreds of commuters crushed on to the platform when the cancellations were announced. Charlotte cursed herself for getting caught up in a conversation at work and leaving late. If she'd arrived at the station at her usual time, she'd have been on her way home. But now there wouldn't be a train for at least an hour, and it'd probably take the Met that long to organise replacement buses.

  She might as well grab something to eat in the city, catch a train home later.

  Charlotte pushed her way through the crowds to the escalator. What a bloody day it had been. An interviewee had pulled out of a feature she'd been working on, then a restructure was announced by management straight after lunch. She expected to be made redundant. Publishing was increasingly challenged by the easy access to alternative material on the internet. She really needed to change career, but had no idea what else she'd like to do.

  She reached the top of the escalator and got swept into the mass of disgruntled commuters heading across the station concourse. Outside, it was sprinkling with rain. The woman next to Charlotte almost took her eye out putting up an umbrella.

  At least a thousand people gathered around the temporary bus stop. Yeah, stuff that. She manoeuvred her way along Collins Street. There was a bar a couple of blocks down that served good food. Provided she could get in, that half the central business district didn't have the same idea.

  The pedestrian crossing red light was flashing, but nobody heeded it. Traffic was almost at a standstill. Charlotte started crossing, wondering whether to dig her umbrella from the bottom of her handbag. The rain was starting to get heavier.

  "Charlotte!"

  Recognising the voice, she turned round. Connor's car was at a standstill on the crossing, and he was leaning out of the window. "Get in!" he called to her.

  Glad of a lift, she opened the passenger door. "Thanks for this."

  "Not a problem. It was just on the news. It'll take you hours to get home by bus."

  Charlotte fastened her safety belt and pointed towards the crowds around the bus stops. "That's if I could even get on one."

  He smiled. "You'd get on one, Charlotte."

  She remembered all the other occasions when she'd forced her way through crowds onto a crowded bus or train, and grinned ruefully. "You're right, I would."

  "So, how are you?" he asked, driving slowly along Collins Street. The rain spattered the windows and he clicked the wipers on.

  "I'm good, thanks." She hadn't seen Connor since the day she'd moved half the furniture out of the house when he'd bought out her share of the property. Almost two years ago. He'd developed a bald spot and was thinner in the face.

  "Still at Australian Woman's Realm?"

  "How d'you know I work there?" she asked, surprised.

  "Mum saw your by-line ages ago. Then," he flushed, and took a left-hand turn, "if I come across it in a supermarket, I've had a look, see if I could see your by-line."

  She glanced at him. His soft tone as well as the blush told her he still had affection for her. She glowed inside. He didn't hate her anymore.

  She'd missed him the past couple of years. That had surprised her, given their marriage had been so fraught. But she missed his company, conversation over dinner, missed curling up on the sofa next to him, wine in hand, in front of the fire. She missed their weekend bushwalks. She'd been bushwalking with friends, but it wasn't the same. So often, when something funny had happened at work, she'd looked forward to telling him about it, making him laugh. Then remembered they were no longer together.

  "I mightn't be at Australian Woman's Realm much longer," she told him now. "There's a restructure."

  "There's always a restructure," he said.

  "Yes."

  She'd planned to return to the UK when they split up. But the day before the money came through for her share of the house, she'd been offered the role of features editor on Australian Woman's Realm. So she'd stayed in Melbourne, renting a unit in the next suburb to her old house.

  "What about you?" she asked him. "How's your job?"

  "Good. I won't be there much longer, though. I've bought a café. It's on that new industrial estate in Lilydale, so I'll be there Monday to Friday, doing breakfasts and lunches."

  Charlotte's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"

  "Why the surprise? Don't you think I'm capable of running a café?"

  "No, no," she hastened to reassure him. "I'd just never have expected you to give up working for the man to work for yourself, that's all. You'll do well. You always were a good cook."

  "Remember Graham, my mate from uni?" When Charlotte nodded, he continued. "Well, he and Lisa split up. She works just round the corner from me and we've supported each other through the break-ups. She was the one who encouraged me to buy the café. She said it was time I did something I always wanted to do."

  "I should have encouraged you to do that," Charlotte realised, suddenly guilty.

  He smiled at her, took a right turn towards the freeway. "You had a lot going on, trying to settle down and build a new life here. What'll you do if you're made redundant?"

  "I've no idea." Charlotte had never wanted to do anything else, from when she was a kid. At seven years old she was making her own comics, creating picture strips and stapling them together. Working on Teen Scene had been a dream come true. She still missed teenage magazines, the mix of fiction and features on pop stars, dating and careers. But there were hardly any teenage magazines around now, and what remained were full of gossip about celebrities Charlotte had never heard of. To be honest, women's magazines weren't that much better. She was sick of running interviews with the latest Big Brother housemates.

  "Are you still writing your novels?" Connor asked.

  God, he remembered that crime series she'd started. She hadn't given it a thought since the break-up. "I don't have time," she said. "Work's busy. I don't feel like sitting in front of a computer, writing, after doing the same thing all day." That wasn't really true. She just hadn't been inspired to write, especially while she had an enjoyable job. Perhaps she should go back to her sports journo sleuth, but crime fiction, like everything else, had moved on with the dawn of a new century. The feminist PI sleuths of the 1990s had given way to darker thrillers. Maybe she could rework them, though, make them more marketable if she got made redundant. It'd give her something practical to do between jobs. "How's Josh?" she asked, changing the subject.

  "He's good. He's back in Melbourne now."

  "Living with you?"

  "No. Deb
orah moved back down. It didn't work out for her in Queensland."

  Charlotte wanted to say There's a surprise, but bit her tongue. It wasn't her business anymore.

  "I don't see anything of her, fortunately," said Connor. "When Josh comes round, he rides over on his bike. At least I get to see him regularly. Having said that, when he stays with me, he wants to spend most of his time with his mates."

  "That's normal at his age. Parents aren't cool."

  "Tell me about it."

  They were making good progress now they were on the freeway. In less than half an hour he'd be outside her unit. Charlotte was surprised that she was so reluctant for their time together to be so brief.

  "How are your parents?" she asked.

  "They're okay. Went off with the caravan last week. They have someone come in to see to the garden every couple of weeks now, even when they're home. The garden's getting too much for Dad these days." He checked his rear-view mirror and changed lanes to overtake a truck. "I was surprised you didn't go back to the UK."

  "I was going to, but when I was offered a job, I thought it was better to be employed here rather than most likely unemployed over there. I'm glad I stayed," she said. "I've made friends through this job." The publishing house was so much larger than 21st Century Sportswoman (which folded last year anyway), and there was always something going on socially. She hoped they'd all keep in touch after the restructure.

  "That's good," he said. "I used to worry about you, not knowing anybody out here. Just having your job and me. Are you…seeing anybody?"

  Charlotte shook her head. A guy at work had asked her on a date, but she had a personal rule about not getting involved with colleagues. And she'd been hesitant about trusting strangers since the disciplinarian debacle, so hadn't wanted to be chatted up in pubs or join a dating agency.