Instilling Obedience & Maid to Serve

by Ray Gordon

  Dashing into her parents' bedroom as the phone rang, she hoped creepy Arthur would be a few minutes longer as she lifted the receiver.

  'I'm on my mobile,' Christine gabbled. 'Where did you get to? Why did you ask me to come round and then go out?'

  'I didn't go out,' Emily replied. 'I'm in my room. I saw you through my window, talking to Arthur.'

  'He said you'd gone out. What's going on, Emily? What's this all about?'

  'Christine, I'm chained to my bedroom radiator,' Emily told her friend. 'Arthur bound my wrists together with a tie and—'

  'He did what?' Christine squealed.

  'I'm only in my underwear and there's a chain from my ankle to the radiator,' Emily elaborated.

  'You've been watching too much television,' the girl giggled. 'The old man from next door chained you to the radiator? You haven't been sitting in the sun for too long, have you?'

  'Of course not,' Emily denied desperately. 'Look, I have to go. Arthur will be back in a minute.'

  Her friend chuckled again in her ear. 'I think you need some help, Ems.'

  'Too right I do,' the chained girl agreed, 'and I've just had an idea. Where are you?'

  'Just down the road.'

  'Okay, come round now. He's gone back to his house to get me a cup of tea. The backdoor might be unlocked, so once he's up in my room slip into the house and hide in the dining room until he's gone.'

  'Ems, I really don't think—'

  'Just do it, Chrissie, please,' Emily implored.

  'All right, anything you say. Although I really do think you—'

  'I'll explain everything later. Just don't let him see or hear you.'

  Dashing back to her room and sitting again on the bed, Emily reckoned Arthur was playing games with her. Saying she was allowed out that evening, smiling at her, being nice; what was he up to? What was he after? Sure that he had no intention of releasing her, she planned that Christine would use her father's hacksaw to cut through the chain. And once she was free she'd leave the house, stay at Christine's place until her parents returned, and...

  Trying not to plan too far ahead as she heard Arthur trudging up the stairs, she prayed for her plan to work.

  'One tea,' Arthur said, placing the mug on the bedside table.

  'Thank you, Arthur,' she said sweetly. 'When will you release me?' she asked. 'If I'm going out this evening I need to—'

  'There's plenty of time,' he said, again sitting beside her on the bed. 'You have lovely legs, my dear,' he suddenly said, alarming her though she tried not to show it. 'In fact, you have a lovely body, full stop. You're a very attractive girl.'

  'Yes, well,' she murmured uncomfortably, shuddering inwardly as his eyes crawled over her form.

  'I mean it,' he maintained. 'I've had my eye on you for a while now.'

  'Had your eye on me?' She averted her gaze as his eyes drilled into hers. 'What do you mean?'

  'I've been watching you grow into an extremely attractive young lady,' he qualified.

  'Oh, I see.' Poor Emily didn't know what else to say.

  'Yes, I've kept a close watch on you, Emily,' he mused, almost to himself, and as his gaze lowered again and crawled over the triangular patch of cotton concealing her intimacies, Emily knew she had to get away. She didn't know who he was any more, what he'd become. She recalled the many times she'd helped him in his greenhouse, and the time he suggested she take her T-shirt off as the temperature reached the nineties. She didn't, of course, but was it the heat in the greenhouse that had him sweating so much, or the thought of seeing her without her T-shirt on...?

  'It's a shame your father saw you masturbating,' he said, breaking into Emily's thoughts. 'That really did upset him.'

  'Yes, I know it must have,' she sighed, hoping he didn't want to discuss that again.

  'To see his daughter doing such a vulgar thing must have been, well, don't get me wrong; I have nothing against you masturbating. I understand it's only natural in a girl of your age. How often do you masturbate?'

  Emily's mouth gaped and she didn't know how to answer that. 'I... I don't,' she stumbled unconvincingly. 'What I mean is, I...'

  'It's all right. I quite understand that you find the subject embarrassing. In future, I suggest you wait until your parents are out before indulging yourself in such a way.'

  'Yes,' she breathed, wondering what else she could say and where this was leading.

  'Right, I have a couple of phone calls to make before I can—'

  'I thought you were going to release me?'

  'I'll only be ten minutes, and then I'll come back and release you so you can get ready to go out this evening.'

  Hoping Christine was hiding in the dining room, Emily sipped her tea as she listened to Arthur going downstairs. Freedom was close, she was sure as she heard the backdoor close. Once the chain had been cut she'd slip out of the front and make her escape. Though what she'd tell her parents she had no idea. Christine had obviously thought her mad when she told her about the chain and things. There was no way her parents would believe such an outrageous story.

  Hearing a noise downstairs Emily's spirits rose. Calling out for her friend to come up to her room, she sat upright and waited expectantly for her to appear. There was a hacksaw in the toolbox in the under-stairs cupboard. Christine would have no trouble cutting through the chain. Perhaps she could even cut off the padlock. Then once dressed, Emily would flee from her house and Arthur. He'd have a fit when he discovered his prisoner gone, she mused, again calling out for Christine, but that was his problem.

  'Are you expecting your friend?' Arthur asked, his expression one of inert friendliness as he leaned against the doorway, at odds with the length of rope he twisted ominously around his fists.

  'I, um, I thought I heard her calling through the letterbox,' Emily hastily lied, her cheeks flushing, her hands trembling as she focused on the rope with wide, anxious eyes.

  'Really?' he said genially. 'And how would she have been able to get into the house? You called out and told her to come up to your bedroom, but she doesn't have a key, does she?'

  'No, I...' Emily's mind scrambled around for something remotely believable to say. 'I thought... um, I thought...'

  'You thought she'd slip in through the backdoor and wait until I'd gone,' he said for her, watching her discomfort. 'Is that it?'

  'No, of course not,' she blustered fearfully.

  'I believe you spoke to her on the phone, Emily. I believe you told her you're chained to the radiator in your bedroom.'

  'No, I didn't, please,' she desperately denied, shaking her head, her eyes watching his every little move.

  'Are you going to persist with your lies? You spoke to her on the phone and told her to come here to help you.'

  'I said nothing of the sort,' Emily returned, wondering how he knew.

  'Had I not locked the backdoor when I came up with your tea, your plan might have worked,' he said pensively.

  'There was no plan,' she said shakily, her eyes transfixed by the rope dangling threateningly from his hands.

  'Oh dear,' he sighed, shaking his head theatrically, 'what a great shame. I thought I could trust you, but clearly I can't.'

  'Arthur, I haven't done anything,' she repeated worriedly.

  'Yes, you have, you've put paid to your going out this evening.'

  'Arthur, please, I didn't say anything to Christine. I haven't seen her or spoken to her today.'

  'Lies tumble from your lips with such ease it's frightening,' he derided. 'Probably because of years of lying to your parents.'

  'I have never lied to my parents,' she protested.

  'All I can think is that you must enjoy being punished,' he added, as though deaf to her objection.

  'Arthur, please don't do this any more,' she beseeched plaintively, wondering when this unjust torment would end.

  'Why have you done this, Emily? I was going to allow you out this evening. I thought that, well, it doesn't matter what I thought. What does matt
er is your persistent poor behaviour.'

  Twisting the rope around his hands as he stood beside the bed, his dark eyes devoid of emotion, he gazed down at Emily's breasts, and then her shapely thighs. Crossing her legs self-consciously she focused on the rope, wondering whether she should make a stand against the brute. There was more than enough evidence against her - contrived or not - to put paid to her holiday in Tenerife, and to allow Arthur to punish her again wouldn't change that. She'd not now be going on holiday later in the summer, or to the wine bar that evening to meet Jack, so she had nothing to lose now, she knew.

  'But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time,' Arthur said, much to her amazement. 'I suppose it is possible you thought you heard Christine calling through the letterbox.'

  'I did,' Emily said excitedly. 'Really, I did.'

  'All right, all right,' he chuckled benevolently, 'you can go out this evening. But you'll take three lashes of the rope first to remind you not to misbehave again.'

  Emily's cruelly raised spirits sank instantly and her hopeful smile vanished. 'No, please.'

  'The choice is yours,' he went on regardless. 'Three lashes and then you'll be allowed out. What's it to be?'

  'Only three?' she asked, tentatively weighing up her options.

  'Three will be enough to give you a taste of what you'll get if you're late home again,' he confirmed. 'So if you're in agreement, turn round and lie on your front.'

  Reluctantly adopting the required position, Emily squeezed her eyes shut and tensed her buttocks in readiness for the first bite of the rope. This was to be the last time, she vowed to herself. Three lashes not only in return for a night out, but her ultimate escape too. She'd ring Chrissie and arrange to stay at her house, and even if Arthur discovered where she was there'd be nothing he could do to get his hands on her again. Three lashes, and then she'd be free of the creep.

  'No...' she cried into her quilt as the rope slashed through the air and landed across the cotton-covered globes of her clenched bottom with a sickening crack.

  'Number one,' Arthur counted, raising the rope above his head again.

  With her young body trembling uncontrollably, Emily held her breath and waited for the second gruelling bite. Arthur was making her wait, she knew, sadistically enjoying every second of her torture. This was how he got his kicks. Inhaling deeply and anxiously holding her breath, she buried her face in her pillow as she waited in trepidation for the second strike.

  'Please...!' Her distraught wail was muffled as the rope flailed her tensed bottom, the force of the blow making it quiver with vitality inside her tight, white panties.

  'Number two,' Arthur pronounced, again raising the rope above his head. 'One more, Emily. Just one more, and then you may go out for the evening.'

  'Yes, yes,' she whimpered, tears soaking into the pillow as she held her breath and clenched her burning buttocks.

  With the crack of the last and final strike echoing around her bedroom, she let out another pitiful wail. She'd done it, she thought. She'd endured the evil monster's punishment and would now not only be free to leave the house, but free of him for good. Clutching her scalded rear, she slowly managed to sit upright. Freedom was so close. She could almost smell the refreshing air of the outside world. Wiping the tears from her flushed cheeks, her head hung low, she prayed for the man to keep his side of the bargain and release her from her living hell.

  'I didn't want to have to do that,' he said, dropping the rope on the end of the bed. 'However, now you've taken your punishment you may go out this evening.'

  'Please, take the chain off,' she whimpered, again wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. 'Just let me get out of here for a while.'

  'All in good time, Emily,' he said, brushing her tousled hair away from her flushed brow. 'All in good time.'

  'What is it now?' she asked. 'Is this another trick?'

  'A trick?' he echoed indignantly. 'Of course it's not a trick. I'm a man of my word, young lady. You should know that. But I've left the padlock key at my place, so I'll have to go and get it. I'll only be a couple of minutes. Oh, by the way, how are you for money?'

  'Money?' she said, perplexed by his question. 'Well, I'm...'

  'I'll give you twenty pounds. That should be enough for you to have a nice evening out.'

  'Erm, right, thanks,' she said, somewhat bemused by the gesture, unsure of his motives. Why was he giving her money? He was baiting her, she was sure. It must have occurred to him that she'd make a run for it once free. He was taunting her, giving her hope only to plunge her into the depths of despair again with his evil games.

  After half an hour of awaiting his return with the key, she knew she was right. She wasn't to be given her freedom at all. Desperate now, her buttocks throbbing, she wondered whether to ring Christine again and ask her to bring her father round. He would sort creepy Arthur out. She couldn't sit on her bed chained to the radiator all night. She was going to have to do something.

  Suddenly the front doorbell rang and she wondered whether her best friend had come back to help. Then hearing the backdoor open and close she sat upright, tense and alert, watching the top of the stairs through the open bedroom door. Had Arthur brought the key? Was she about to be released from the loathsome chain? The front doorbell rang again and she frowned, puzzled. Was this another of his tricks, or had one of their other neighbours called round to see her? Then she heard the front door opening and strained her ears to hear what Arthur was saying.

  'She's gone out,' he said, he lied.

  'Oh, right,' a male responded. 'I just thought... but if she's gone out... it doesn't matter.'

  'Do you want me to tell her you called?' Arthur asked politely.

  'No, that's okay... I'm meeting her tonight anyway... at the wine bar.'

  'Really? What time?'

  'Eight... her friend gave me her address.'

  'She's probably gone there to meet you already,' Arthur suggested. 'What did you say your name was?'

  'Jack... you must be her father.'

  'No, no,' Arthur said, 'I'm just a friend of the family. Look, if she comes back I'll tell her you called.'

  'Thanks,' called Jack's fading voice as he retreated up the garden path.

  Fuming, Emily clenched her fists as she heard the front door close. She should have called out for Jack to help her, but she just didn't react to the surprise of hearing his voice quickly enough.

  'So, you'd planned to meet a youth at a wine bar,' Arthur stated as he appeared at the top of the stairs and walked into her bedroom.

  'What of it?' Emily challenged. 'As I've repeatedly told you, I'm eighteen and I can do what I want.'

  She tensed, regretting her impulsive response whilst awaiting a resurgence of the weirdo's wrath, but Arthur suddenly smiled broadly and moved right in front of her, looking down into her eyes.

  'You're right, Emily,' he said, taking a small key from his trouser pocket and stooping to release her ankle. 'There, now you're free to go out, just as I promised. If you hurry you should be in time to meet Jack.'

  Frowning cautiously, Emily stood up. Was this another trick? What was his game? Perhaps he'd decided he'd gone too far, she mused, grabbing her miniskirt from her wardrobe and pulling it up her legs. Then slipping her shoes on she took her blouse from the wardrobe, oblivious to the watching man so relieved was she that this was her chance to escape.

  He focused on the fullness of her bra, snugly holding her creamy breasts, and the smooth plain of her stomach as she slipped her arms into the blouse's short sleeves. He sat on the chair by the window and eyed her naked legs. 'Have a good time,' he called as she finished buttoning her blouse and skipped down the stairs.

  'Yes, I will,' she called back up, reaching the front door as he appeared at the top of the stairs.

  'Oh, just before you go,' he said.

  'Yes?' Emily stood holding the door open, looking up at him. With the warm evening breeze wafting around her naked legs she was almost free.
'What is it?'

  'Here's the twenty pounds I promised you,' he said, holding out a crisp note as he descended the stairs and stood before her in the hall.

  'No, thanks, you don't have to,' she said.

  'I thought you wanted to meet Jack at the wine bar,' he said, looking put out.

  'I do, but you don't have to...' she paused, scrutinising the man closely with her wide, innocent eyes. 'What is it you want? Tell me, Arthur. What do you want from me?'

  'Nothing more than respect, good behaviour and obedience, Emily,' he said simply.

  'And you're prepared to threaten and blackmail me so I behave as you want me to?'

  'Can we move away from such words as threat and blackmail?' he said, his expression one of distaste. 'They're ugly words and they have no place here.'

  'They have every place here,' she argued. 'They couldn't be more fitting words for the way you're treating me.'

  'Here,' he said, looking uncomfortable with the subject and changing it by offering her the money again, 'why don't you go out and enjoy yourself? I'll see you when you get home, at ten o'clock. You will be home by ten, won't you?'

  'What choice do I have?' she said, taking the money and putting it in her small shoulder bag.

  'Good. That's settled then. And we'll have a cosy little chat when you get home.'

  Leaving the house Emily walked briskly down the street, but gradually her pace faltered and she slowed to a halt. She couldn't meet Jack at the wine bar, she knew, or run away from home as she'd planned to. How could she when she was so worried about Arthur, the accusation of the missing money, the report book, the photographs, and what he might do with them if she provoked him?

  Riddled with confusion, doubts and anxieties, she made her way to the park, the evening sun warming her face and legs, and wondered what Arthur might do when she got home. Would he find an excuse to punish her again?