by Ray Gordon
'Good, I won't have to worry about you then,' he said amiably. 'In fact, I'll be able to get on with my work uninterrupted.'
'I know your game,' she said, cupping one stinging buttock. 'You planned this. You were waiting until my parents went away so you could—'
'Be careful what you say, young lady,' he warned. 'Irresponsible talk can get people into trouble. All I want is what's best for you. I merely want to see you remain a respectable young lady, not a young tart who drinks alcohol and answers back to her betters and disobeys authority.'
'I do not—'
'The day will come when you'll meet a nice young man and settle down,' he continued as though she wasn't talking. 'Then you'll thank me for disciplining you. I can promise you that.'
'Thank you?' she scoffed, pulling the towel tighter around her shapely bosom. 'You must be joking. I've never known anyone like you. You're an evil man, and I don't like you any more.'
'I can understand why you think that,' he acknowledged with infuriating calm. 'But you will thank me one day.'
'No, I'll hate you for the rest of my life,' she vowed.
'Emily, what would your parents say if they were to see a photograph of you bending over the back of your father's favourite armchair?'
'I beg your pardon?' Emily's lovely eyes widened in disbelief.
'I have my camera in my pocket,' he told her. 'I took a photograph of you while you were bending over and distracted. So if I tell your parents that I saw a young man leaving their house one morning, if I say he dropped something on the path and I went out to pick it up... well, what would they say if they discovered you'd invited a randy yob back here, let alone allowed him to take a photograph of you half-naked and bending over the back of the chair while indulging in some perverted sexual game?'
'Get out,' Emily hissed. 'Get out and stay out!'
'I will, Emily, I will. Just remember that you are now beholden to me. I'll correct your wicked ways if it's the last thing I do. I'll make a respectable, obedient young lady out of you no matter what it takes. And don't you dare defy me again by going out this evening. Hopefully you've learned your lesson on that score.'
As he left Emily curled up on the sofa and cried. He was an evil monster. He'd blackmailed her, betrayed her, and this was only day three. Had he taken photographs of her sunbathing and bending over the chair? If he had, and he showed them to her parents, her life wouldn't be worth living.
Chapter 3
Discovering an envelope containing several photographs on the doormat that afternoon, Emily held her hand to her head. Arthur hadn't been lying. First gazing at a shot of her bent over the armchair, she flicked through the further incriminating evidence of her sunbathing in a skimpy bikini. There were even shots of her leaving for the wine bar, in her tight blouse and miniskirt! Clutching the despicable photographs as she dashed into the hall to answer the phone, she hoped her parents weren't calling to see how she was. What could she say?
'Get the piccies?' Arthur asked as she pressed the receiver to her ear. 'They've turned out rather well, don't you agree?'
'What do you want from me?' she asked desperately, dreading his reply.
'I'll be round to talk to you in a minute,' he stated coldly. 'Why don't you put the kettle on? We'll have a nice chat over a cup of coffee.'
'Go to hell,' she snapped, slamming the phone down.
Hiding the photographs beneath the sofa she wondered what to do. She'd had a shower and had been getting ready to slip out again for the evening, but now? Pulling her dressing gown together and checking the time, she was determined to meet Jack in the wine bar as arranged. It was five in the afternoon - only three hours to go. This was a date she didn't want to miss, but with Arthur around, watching her every move...
Was she in for another spanking for some unjust reason? She wouldn't let him in, she decided, dashing into the hall and slipping the catch on the front door. He could ring the bell, threaten her, blackmail her, but there was no way she was going to allow him into the house ever again. If only she'd gone to Spain with her parents, after all.
Hearing a noise in the kitchen she froze. The backdoor was locked, she was sure. She'd locked it before taking her shower. Pulling her dressing gown together to conceal her lacy white bra, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she definitely heard the backdoor close. Someone was in the kitchen. Had the man a key to the back of the house too?
'Ah, there you are,' Arthur said, appearing in the hall from the kitchen.
'H-how did you...?' Emily stammered, staring in disbelief at her arrogant neighbour.
'I also have a key to the backdoor,' he confirmed her fears. 'Your father thought it a good idea.'
'Get out!' Emily shrieked. 'My God, you've got a nerve! Get out of this house, or I'll call the police.'
'There's no need to be like that,' he said, smiling at her. 'I've come round to have a friendly chat with you, that's all. We need to talk, Emily.'
'There's nothing to talk about.'
'Isn't there? I would have thought there's plenty to talk about.' Guiding her easily into the lounge and sitting on the sofa, he looked up at her as she moved back to the door. 'Don't go, Emily,' he said sternly. 'We're going to have a chat whether you like it or not. Please, sit down.'
'I don't want to have a chat,' she complained, sitting stiffly on the front edge of the armchair that had collaborated in her spankings.
'We've got off to a pretty bad start and I'd like to put things right,' he said.
'There's no way you can put things right,' she sulked, pouting. 'After what you've done to me there's nothing you can say or do to put things right.'
'I've known for some time that you've been in need of better disciplining, Emily,' he told her, 'in need of tighter control and a firmer hand than your parents give you.'
'No, you're just a sad pervert,' she said. 'You just want to—'
'I'm sorry to hear you say such a thing,' he cut in. 'I'm sorry because you insult me when all I'm trying to do is make a better person of you. You accused me of planning this, and that hurt, young lady. All I was hoping was that you'd behave and there'd be no need to punish you, but as things have turned out you've disappointed me.'
'I don't care whether you're disappointed or not,' she said defiantly, unmoved by his apparent disillusionment. 'As far as I'm concerned you have nothing to do with me. You're not my father. You're not even a relative. Now get out of this house.'
'You're not understanding me, are you?' he said smoothly. 'You're not listening, Emily.'
'Oh, I understand you only too well,' she countered.
He sighed. 'I didn't want to have to do this, but you've left me no choice.'
'Do what?'
'I'm going to teach you, Emily. I'm going to discipline you and teach you right from wrong, teach you to respect your betters.'
'You'll teach me nothing,' she asserted. 'Now get out of my house. Just get out.'
'I really didn't want to have to do this,' he went on, unflustered. 'The photograph of you sunbathing on the patio; I manipulated it on my computer. Using the airbrush I removed your bikini top. What will your parents say when they see you sunbathing topless on their patio?'
'I... I don't believe you,' she faltered, because deep down she did believe him completely.
'And although I say it myself I've done a very good job,' he said smugly. 'They say photographs don't lie...' He paused, his dark eyes looking her up and down as though he'd only just realised something. 'Why are you in your dressing gown at this time of day? Why is your hair damp?'
'I, um, I've just taken a shower,' she answered, pulling her gown tighter together. 'That is all right, isn't it? I mean, it's not against your rules to have a shower?'
'Were you planning to go out this evening?'
'No, I was just...'
'You were, weren't you? You were getting ready to go out despite my grounding you.'
'I was hot and took a shower, that's all,' she insisted unconvincingl
y.
'Take your dressing gown off,' he ordered, unmoved by her assurance. 'I'll teach you obedience if it's the last thing I do. Take it off this instant.'
'No, I don't care how much you threaten me,' she said rebelliously, 'I will not—'
'Take your dressing gown off and place your hands flat on the coffee table,' he ordered.
'Why are you doing this to me, Arthur?' she pleaded.
'To discipline you,' he stated. 'It's as simple as that.'
'Why do you want to spank me again? What's your excuse this time?'
'Excuse? Don't you mean reason?'
'Your excuse or reason is that you're getting some sort of weird kick out of spanking me and being horrible to me.'
'No, I'll tell you the reason, Emily. I'm not being horrible to you, I'm disciplining you for your own good, to show you right from wrong. And now, when you've placed your hands on the coffee table as instructed, I'm going to spank you again because you stole money from your father.'
'Wha... what are you talking about now?' she gasped incredulously.
'That's shocked you, hasn't it?'
'I stole money from my father?' she echoed. 'That's ridiculous.'
'So where did you get the money to buy your new clothes?' he quizzed.
'I saved it.'
'When I was here last week your father said he'd lost eighty pounds. You took it from his wallet to buy your clothes, didn't you?'
'No, of course I didn't. Please—'
'Don't you think it odd that your father lost eighty pounds and you sneaked off to town and bought some new clothes? Don't bother denying it, because I was in town that day and I saw you leaving the boutique with a carrier bag. You didn't know that, did you? You didn't know your little deception had been witnessed.'
'I've never stolen money in my life!' she said, aghast, a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. 'I've never stolen anything in my life. I'd never touch my father's wallet, let alone steal money from him.'
'So how are you going to explain your new clothes?' he cruelly pressed. 'Your father lost eighty pounds, and the very same day you went shopping for new clothes. And to add to the suspicion you didn't tell your parents about your little shopping spree. It doesn't look good, does it?'
Her head spinning with confusion, Emily knew he had her where he wanted her. The photographs, the missing money, her new clothes; the evidence against her - albeit it false and manipulated - was building by the day. What did her scheming neighbour want from her? Did he want sex? Or was spanking her bum enough to satisfy his weird fetish? Whatever it was he wanted, she knew she had little or no choice but to comply with his demands.
Suddenly, standing before him, she reckoned a counter tactic was called for, so she took a deep breath to summon her courage, and opened her dressing gown to display her skimpy white bra and panties to his brooding eyes. He was an older man with greying hair, harmless and pathetic. By showing off her underwear and nubile body she would be able to win him over, even twist him around her little finger and get her own way. Yes, that was the way to get round him.
'You can look but not touch,' she whispered, deciding it best to play along with his pathetic games. 'I know you find me sexy...'
'Sexy?' he snorted. 'Emily, this has nothing to do with sex.'
'You want to touch me, don't you?' she sighed huskily, undeterred by his denial; sure she was very close to turning the tables. 'You want to touch me and—'
'I was right,' he cut in. 'You're proving yourself to be a little tart by offering me your body. Not that I needed any proof.'
'I'm not offering you anything,' she said indignantly. 'I was just—'
'You're way off the mark, young lady. This has nothing to do with sex. It's to do with obedience, discipline, correction. And now you've proved what a tart you are I realise I have a lot of work ahead of me. Now take your dressing gown off completely.'
Suddenly recalling a time at school when a girl in her class had some money stolen, Emily bit her lip. She'd been into the classroom during lunch break to get something from her desk, a teacher saw her, the money went missing. Although there was no proof the finger of blame pointed directly at her. Her father lectured her for two hours, again and again asking whether she'd taken the money. Although she was innocent and had never admitted to the crime, he'd always suspected her. And now she was in a similar situation. Although she was innocent, Arthur thought she'd been offering him sex.
And so defeated yet again, her plan having gone terribly wrong, she slipped her gown off her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor. She felt her stomach churn as Arthur gazed at her. She was an inexperienced virgin standing in her underwear before her neighbour, but what else could she now do? Was to comply to his methods of rule the way to get what she wanted, the freedom to go out, no curfews, no questioning...? Was this the way to her holiday in Tenerife? By allowing him to spank her she was sure she'd get what she wanted.
As Arthur scrutinised her shapely body, cast his dark eyes over her gentle curves, she felt a shameful rush of excitement course through her veins. No man had ever seen her like this, and to her horror she realised she was deriving some shocking excitement from standing in her bra and panties before a middle-aged man.
'Place your hands on the coffee table,' he ordered, apparently indifferent to having such a gorgeous teenager standing so close, so nearly naked. 'I'm going to thrash you, Emily,' he decreed, standing and - unseen by the girl as she bent at the waist and positioned her palms on the polished surface - removing his leather belt from his trousers. 'I don't want to have to do this, but...'
'You have no choice?' she whispered anxiously.
'I'm pleased you're seeing sense at last. Hopefully the punishment will do you some good. Let's just hope I can correct your wicked ways before it's too late.'
With the first lash of leather cracking loudly across the tight material of her panties Emily rocked forward and yelped. She'd expected the palm of his hand, not a leather strap. But she was prepared to endure the gruelling thrashing if it meant she would be allowed her freedom in return. Once he realised this was a game of give and take, she was sure he'd chill out and she'd be allowed her liberty. The odd thrashing in return for that? It was a price worth paying.
'Not so hard,' she gasped as the leather belt bit into the stretched silk of her panties, reddening the flesh of her tensed buttocks. 'Arthur, please, that hurts...'
'The harder the better, young lady,' he returned, the belt swatting through the air and flailing the quivering globes of her teenage bottom. 'Perhaps this will teach you a lesson. Offering me sex? Good God, girl, I'm your neighbour and old enough to be your father! Have you no shame?'
'No,' she squealed as the belt again bit into her burning buttocks with a deafening crack, 'please, I didn't offer you—'
'The more you deny your wickedness the harder I'll thrash you,' he promised.
Her knuckles whitening as she pressed her fingertips to the tabletop, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to endure the cruel thrashing without any more protesting. Counting the lashes, her legs trembling from the strain, she wondered how much more she could endure as she reached eight. Nine... ten... eleven...! Trying to stand upright to halt the merciless flailing of her burning buttocks, she realised how stupid she'd been by launching her foolhardy counteroffensive. Arthur now believed she'd been offering him sex when all she'd tried to do was play along with him a little to get her own way. Her plan had backfired badly, and she knew she was to pay a heavy price for her folly.
'Offering me sex?' Arthur hissed. 'Never have I known such a vulgar whore or been so insulted!'
'Please,' Emily cried. 'Please, stop.'
'Stop?' he echoed, momentarily halting the gruelling beating. 'I've not finished with you yet.'
'Please Arthur, I... I can't take it any more.'
'Put your hands behind your back,' he ordered her, dropping the leather belt to the floor.
'Behind my back?'
'You
heard me, do as I say.'
As she straightened up stiffly and did as he ordered, he removed his tie and bound her wrists together with it before she realised what he was doing. He was mad, completely insane. Spanking her and then binding her wrists together - was he out of his mind?
Complying with his continuing instructions she turned and faced him, her head hung. Again wondering why he was treating her like this, she realised he might take more photographs of her.
But he sat in the armchair and smiled at her. Scrutinising her trembling body, first gazing at her shapely breasts and the outlines of her nipples pressing through her snug-fitting bra, he then lowered his eyes and focused on the white triangular cotton of her panties. Her face flushed as embarrassment consumed her, and she meekly asked him why he'd tied her wrists, what he wanted from her.
'It's obvious, isn't it?' he returned. 'You defied me, young lady. Despite my grounding you, you went out. And, it seems, you'd planned to go out this evening too. I have to ensure that you don't defy me again, and the only way I can do that is to restrain you.'
'Please, take the tie off,' she begged, her buttocks burning like fire. 'I won't go out this evening, I promise.'
'I know you won't. Not unless you wish to leave the house in your underwear with your hands tied behind your back.'
'Arthur, please—'
'Don't argue with me, Emily,' he snapped angrily.
'I'm not arguing,' she reasoned. 'All I'm asking is that you take the tie off.'
'You still don't understand, do you? I have bound your wrists to ensure that you don't leave this house. Can't you get that into your pretty head?'
'How long do I have to stay here like this?'
'I'm going to get on with some work now. You'll be quite all right here. Why don't you watch a little television?'
'You're not leaving me like this?' she gasped.
'I have no choice, Emily. You deliberately disobey me, you defy me; this is your own doing, my girl. It's no good crying because you can't be trusted and you're now grounded.'