“Yes, Sir.”
She sniffled and stood repentantly in the corner. Preston stood watching her. She was rubbing her thighs together and he could see the juices of her arousal there. He felt almost protective of her, a feeling he hadn’t felt for anyone in years. He wanted nothing more than to hold her on his lap and comfort her, even though he was the cause of her discomfort at the moment. He wanted to ask why she was so upset, why certain things had brought her to tears.
He hoped that Miss Avery would decide to stay. If she left he would worry about her well-being. She had a sweet nature to her hidden under that brash exterior. Once he got her to overcome her mouthiness, and impulsiveness — and got her to act responsibly — she would be a delightful submissive.
Submissive? Where did that come from?
If his instincts were correct — and his instincts usually were — she was definitely a submissive.
Chapter 5
She had never been sent to the corner before.
What the frick are you supposed to do in a corner?
She found herself focusing on a spot where a spider had been killed. Its smashed body still had the legs intact.
Well, guess I’ll clean that the next time I have a sponge in my hand.
He’d told her that she was supposed to think about what she did to cause this spanking and what she’d do differently. Speaking of which, her ass hurt. He said she couldn’t rub, but it was starting to itch. She reached her hand around and tried rubbing a little to get the itch to go away.
“Do you think you want to defy me while you’re standing in the corner with a red bottom?” Preston’s deep rolling voice startled her, making her jump. “I don’t think it’s wise, but the decision is yours. Put your hand on your shirt again, before I decide to rewarm your bottom.”
“But… my butt itches,” she whined, looking over her shoulder at him. “I just wanted to scratch it.”
She heard the plaintive tone in her voice, hating how it made her sound.
“That itch is something you can focus on while in the corner. It’s a reminder of the recent paddling you just received. That itch gives you the opportunity to ponder how you’ll avoid the flat of my hand or my wooden spoon on your posterior again.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Turn around and think, before I decide you need incentive”
Not wanting any more trouble today, she turned and stared at that stupid squished bug again. Now she had to decide if she wanted to stay. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to deal with his domineering personality, but at the same time she really didn’t want to stay in a shelter either. And her father would’ve checked into Preston, she had no doubt. If Preston was dangerous, he would’ve ferreted that out. In addition, she typically could manipulate her way around most men and she was pretty sure Preston would be no different.
A few tears, whining, and batting of eyelashes and she’d be shopping and driving around Old Hickory in no time.
Preston’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. “Are you ready to come out of the corner and talk to me in a civil tone of voice, using appropriate and respectful language?”
Avery turned and started to come out of the corner.
Preston put a hand up. “Uh-uh. Who said you could actually come out of the corner, little girl? I only expected an answer to the question I asked.”
She stopped quickly, turning and going back to her corner, saying quietly, “Sorry, Sir. Yes, I’m ready to talk civilly.”
Avery wondered how long he was going to make her stand in the corner for that little bit of disobedience.
Preston didn’t make her wait long at all. “You may come out of the corner, Avery Rose.”
She awkwardly walked toward him, hobbled by her panties which were still at her knees.
He continued. “By the way, who in your family has the sense of humor? Avery Rose is like the Poison song, Every Rose Has Its Thorn. Am I guessing right?”
“Yes, you’re right. My father had the sense of humor. He liked Poison and when my mother suggested the name Avery, he immediately knew that it had to be Avery Rose.” She looked away with a frown. “And I’ve always felt that no matter what I do, I’m just a thorn in everyone’s side. I’ve heard him say it often enough.”
Preston felt bad for her. What an awful thing for a father to say to his daughter.
“I’m sorry your father didn’t treat you with respect, sweetheart. It’s not nice and it’s definitely not polite.”
Avery’s eyes welled with tears again. There it was again. Some of this brassy attitude was to cover the insecurities her father had given her. If she stayed, Preston would increase her confidence. But first, Preston was going to require that she apologize for her misbehavior. And then he would ask her if she had decided to stay.
“Okay, let’s talk.” Preston gently grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. “First, let’s get your panties where they belong.” He grasped her underwear and pulled them up over her scorched bottom. She hissed as the elastic ran over her freshly spanked flesh. A light pink blush tinged her neck and cheeks.
Preston patted her bottom. “So tell me what caused your spanking and what you’re going to do to prevent another spanking like that?”
Avery closed her eyes, briefly whining. “Do I have to?”
Putting his hands in his pockets, he leaned back against the desk. “Nope. You don’t have to recite your sins. I can paddle you with that wooden spoon again instead.” He reached for the spoon, plucking it off his desk and waving it at her.
Avery’s eyes widened and she pulled on the tail of her shirt, trying to cover her bottom, apparently deciding that speaking was in her best interest. “I got spanked for putting my hands on you, for shoving and hitting you. I promise I won’t put my hands on you ever again. I got the wooden spoon for swearing at you during my spanking.”
“Good girl. I know that wasn’t easy. Do you think you can remember that the consequences for disobedience in this house are painful?”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll remember.” Avery nodded her head, looking truly sincere.
“Okay. You have one more task.” He extended the spoon to her. “Please grab this spoon and wash your spanking off of it. Put it in the drying rack when you’re done.”
Avery’s eyes widened and then she furrowed her eyebrows, scowling his way. She opened her mouth to argue. He wondered if she would fight the urge to argue this time. He loved her spunk, but it definitely needed to be reined in. He watched closely and saw when the defiant girl inside her lost. She snatched the spoon from his hand, and walked to the sink. She washed it silently and threw it into the rack with a lot of attitude and anger — they’d work on that another day. She turned with sparks in her eyes looking his way, waiting for… something. He wasn’t sure what she was hoping for.
Preston smiled at her. “Good girl. Now let’s show you around the house before you get yourself in trouble again.” He winked at her leaving the room knowing she would follow.
* * *
Preston brought her to his den first. “You’ve already seen the den. I’ve been trying to organize this room since I moved here. It’s almost done as far as I’m concerned. I’ve moved most of the antiques and collectibles into the formal living room which is across the hall.” He turned and pointed to the door behind them. “That is the formal living room. It’s a mess and will probably take you a week to organize — maybe more. However, I need you to dust the shelves and tables, vacuum the rug, and wash the windows in this den. This’ll be your first room to work on, starting tomorrow. I don’t want you touching my desk though. I have things organized the way I want. Any dusting that’s needed on the desk I’ll do myself. Is that clear?”
“Yes. Don’t touch the desk. Do you want me touching the books on the shelves? I can organize them by color. I know my father liked his books organized like that in his den.” She was walking toward his floor to ceiling bookshelves. He had quite an impressive collection of law books.
“Sure. That’d be
very helpful. I just haven’t had time to organize anything. There are so many areas that need attention on the property.”
She turned, looking at the windows. They were a mess. It would take a couple washings at least to get the dirt and grime off that glass. “It looks like the previous owner liked to smoke in here. The windows are really dirty.”
“I haven’t a clue. I didn’t get to meet the owners. All I know about them I heard from the real estate agent. She said that they were both very old and weren’t healthy for a couple years before their children put them in a nursing home and sold the house.”
Preston sorted through some of his files and slipped a few of them into one of his desk drawers.
“I’ll make a list of things to be done every day. That way there’s no confusion on what the expectations are and no tasks will be forgotten.”
“Lucky me.” Avery rolled her eyes, following Preston out of the room.
She almost bumped into him when he stopped abruptly in the doorway.
“Attitude, Avery. Attitude. Keep it in check, please.”
She blushed at his reprimand.
“Very pretty blush. I’m thinking it probably matches the pretty tint of your bottom.”
He brushed his knuckles on her cheek. His head tilted and she wondered if he was visualizing the similarities between the blush on her face, and the one on her bottom.
Dropping his hand, he turned and walked into the formal living room. Avery followed close behind then stopped, her hand over her mouth, stunned at the disaster she saw before her. The room had furniture and antiques along every wall. There were pictures, knick knacks, vases, books, and other antiques on all the furniture. Some areas of the room had things piled three to four feet high.
How in the name of hell am I supposed to do something with this?
She dropped her hand long enough to say, “Oh. My. God. Are you fucking kidding me? This is going to take me the whole six months.”
Turning to look at the pile in the corner of the room, a swath of fire slashed across her backside, and she jumped, grabbing both cheeks with her hands.
“Ow! Oh, that hurt!”
She turned and felt tears fill her eyes as she looked at Preston.
“We won’t discuss language again. Am I clear, Avery?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” She swiped at the tears that were threatening to fall from her lashes.
“You’ll find, little girl, that I’ll spank your naughty bottom as often as it needs it, regardless of how many times you’ve been paddled. Keep it in mind.” He then walked to the corner area that had elicited the colorful response — it was piled high with books and pictures. “I’ll help you with this room. I know it’s overwhelming to look at. On Saturdays, we’ll work together to organize it. I’ve been gathering any items or antiques that I don’t want in this room so we can organize a barn sale at some point. So, in the process of organizing and cleaning rooms, bring whatever you think doesn’t fit in that room down here. If it’s heavy though, leave it. In those cases, you’re to ask me to help you move it when I get home. You won’t carry heavy items down the stairs. I don’t want you hurt.”
“Okay. I’ll wait until you get home if it’s heavy. I promise.”
She smiled at him. He was actually very nice if you could get past the spanking part of him, which… was a big thing to get past at this point. Her bottom was smoldering under her panties. She was avoiding rubbing because she didn’t want him seeing her admitting to the pain. But when she was alone again, not only would she be looking at the damage, she would be rubbing it until the pain eased.
Preston put a hand to the small of her back, leading her out of the room and pointing upstairs. “There are four bedrooms upstairs and two bathrooms, those won’t be as hard to organize or clean. Let’s go outside and I can show you around the rest of the property.”
“But I only have a shirt on and no pants.” Avery pointed to her bare legs and looked up at him.
“You’re fine. My closest neighbor is two miles away. No one will see you, and if they do, that shirt’s probably longer than some of the dresses you wear. Am I correct?” He smiled mischievously at her. “You women amaze me. You wear bikinis that are smaller than your underwear, but panic if your underwear shows. And you wear dresses that show your lady bits if you so much as sneeze, but you won’t go outside in a t-shirt that’s down to your knees.”
“You sound like a grumpy old man, Mr. Harrison. How old are you again?” Avery giggled, enjoying the way his bearing stiffened at her teasing, the blush rising on his cheeks.
“You know very well that I’m thirty six. I’m not a grumpy old man — I’m a realist. And, since you’re so young and hip, you can take your hot little ass outside and I can show you the buildings.”
He patted her bottom affectionately and walked with her outside.
* * *
Preston chose to use the back door off the kitchen, leading Avery down the steps off the small back porch and making their way to the first building.
“This is the barn. It needs some work, but overall it’s not in bad shape at all.” He put his hand on one of the vertical support beams and patted it, looking around. “My goal is to get some horses for riding. I used to love riding horses as a kid — it’s so relaxing. Someday.”
He sighed, then continued. “But for the time being, we’ll use this barn for the estate sale, once we can organize it. I’ll set up tables and display areas. C’mon, I’ll show you some of the other buildings.”
He walked out of the barn, seemingly confident that she would follow him. Now that she had been spanked, she actually felt quite calm, even cooperative. She had his curiosity piqued; he was looking forward to learning more about Miss Avery.
Moving away from the barn, they turned right and continued to the next building on the property about fifty feet away, tucked away under some trees. The building was small with a little window that faced the pasture.
“And this building is the woodshed. This is where husbands and fathers in the early part of the century kept the wood for the fireplaces, their tool bench and tools. But it’s also where husbands and fathers administered discipline to naughty bottoms.” He turned around in the middle of the shed, watching Avery take in her surroundings with eyes wide, mouth open in awe.
“This is an actual woodshed? I’ve heard about them, but never actually been in one. Is this what I think it is?” She ran her trembling hand down the thickness of a large leather strop hanging on a hook on the back of the door.
Preston walked up to her, making sure he was close enough to smell her hair and whispered the question in her ear. “What do you think that is, sweetheart?”
“Uhm… a razor strop?” She tried to move away from him, but Preston successfully caged her, placing a big hand on the wall at either side of her.
“Mmmm hmm. Correct. That was the ultimate implement for a naughty bottom, reserved for the worst infractions. If you received the razor strop it was for breaking the law, hurting another person, or hurting yourself. For example, stealing from a house and getting arrested would warrant a session with a razor strop.”
Preston raised his eyebrows and looked at her grimly.
“Y-you can’t be… y-you wouldn’t… are you g-going to… I don’t want that to… ”
Preston watched her quickly let go of the strop and saw the pulse in her neck increase, her breathing becoming fast and shallow.
“Shhhhhhh. Breathe, sweetheart.” Preston stroked his finger on her jaw line, lightly cupping the back of her neck with his hand. “You’re not receiving the strop tonight. You’re paying for your sins by cleaning my house, remember? However, make sure you don’t break the law or injure yourself or others while you’re here — no leaving the property alone, no drinking to excess, no drugs, and no stealing. A session with a razor strop isn’t easily forgotten and makes sitting difficult for days.”
“You sound like you’re talking from experience. Have you ever been s
tropped, Preston?”
“I’ve had a session or two with one. Believe me when I tell you it’s to be avoided at all costs.” Preston smiled. “Maybe I need to hang it on a nail in the kitchen as a reminder.”
“A reminder? For me, or for you Preston?”
Avery, the little flirt, raised her eyebrows and giggled at him. His cock jumped at the sound of her laughter. When she walked by him, laughing, the scent of soap and strawberries wafted over him. To him, nothing compared with the smell of a clean woman.
“You naughty minx. It would be a reminder for you. And that bench in front of you there” Preston pointed to a low sitting bench with an uncomfortable back to it. “They called that the ‘waiting bench’ back in the late 1800s. They were used in railroad stations mainly, but if one was in a woodshed like this one, it had one purpose. It’d be where a naughty bottom would be told to sit while waiting for a spanking. Now that I think about it, that bench may look better and prove to be more useful in my den – for say, the next six months.” Preston laughed, picking it up and going out the door with it. Again, he was confident that she was right behind him.
“You wouldn’t dare. Would you? No! You wouldn’t put me on that little bench, would you?” She was right behind him, wringing her hands together, giving the bench an evil glare then turning her pleading eyes back to him.
He slapped the dust and grime off his hands, securing the latch on the door to the woodshed. “Well, I wasn’t so sure until you dared me. Now the answer is most definitely, yes. Yes, Ms. Avery — ‘Attitude Avery’ — if your naughty bottom requires it, you’ll sit with your bare bottom on the cold wood, waiting in a corner for your chastisement. You’ll learn to not dare me, little one.”
Finding Submission (Service & Submission Book 1) Page 5