by Ray Gordon
'You have a lovely bottom, Emily,' Arthur mumbled, massaging more cream into her rounded globes. 'Firm buttocks, perfectly symmetrical...'
'Thank you, but may I stand up now, Mr Price?' she breathed quietly.
'All in good time, my dear,' he replied pensively. 'All in good time. I must say, you are beginning to progress well after such a bad start. And I'm so pleased that I don't have to ring your parents.' Massaging the cream into the pink, blotchy handprints he'd created on her silky flesh, he moved down to her inner thighs. 'Is that nice?' he asked, his fingers transiently touching the pouting lips of her vulva and making her gasp.
'No...' she whispered confusedly, 'I mean, I'd like to stand up now please, Mr Price.'
There was a long, tense pause, and then Arthur bent and untied the bonds around her ankles. 'Yes, of course,' he said. 'And I think you'd better get yourself off to bed now.'
Chapter 6
Emily yawned, sat upright, stretched and rubbed her eyes, and looked around her bedroom. It was eight o'clock, another morning had arrived and stark reality returned.
Pushing the quilt back she slipped out of bed and went across the landing to the bathroom. With her buttocks still throbbing lightly from her spanking the night before, she took a hot shower, luxuriating in the steaming cascade of water, and having just dried herself the phone rang in her parents' bedroom and she hurried to answer it.
'Hi, Emily,' Christine regaled cheerfully. 'Want to come into town?'
'What happened when you came round?' Emily asked directly. 'I thought you were going to hide in the dining room until Arthur had gone? Wasn't the backdoor open?'
'The door was locked,' the girl told her. 'Emily, are you all right now?'
'No, no I'm not.'
'Why don't you come into town with me? It'll do you good to get out for a while.'
'Did you see Jack in the wine bar?'
'Yes, I did. He was in a bit of a mood. He said he'd been here but you'd gone out. He then waited in the bar for two hours for you to turn up.'
'You shouldn't have given him my address, Chrissie,' Emily told her friend. 'But anyway, I hadn't gone out. I was upstairs in my bedroom.'
'I don't know what this is all about, Emily, but I think you'd better meet me in town and we'll have a coffee and a chat. You obviously need to talk about this.'
'What's the point? You'd never believe me.'
'Well, I do find the things you've told me a bit difficult to believe,' Christine admitted a little sheepishly. 'Wouldn't you?'
'Yes, I suppose so,' Emily acknowledged begrudgingly.
'Well, are you coming into town?'
'Maybe.'
'I'll meet you in the coffee shop.'
'If I'm not there by ten-thirty come round here,' Emily said.
'Okay, I'll see you later.'
Replacing the receiver, Emily went back to her bedroom and dried her hair. Going into town with Christine, chatting and laughing in the coffee shop, planning their evenings out - that's what this two weeks should have been like, she reflected. Having fun and living for a change. But what, she pondered, slipping into a pair of white cotton panties, did she have to look forward to now?
Then putting on a pink cotton skirt and white T-shirt, she looked out of her window at the garden and the clear blue sky. It was going to be another lovely day, and promised to be too hot to bother with a bra.
Brushing her hair again in front of her dressing table mirror, she pondered how ridiculous it was to have to call her neighbour, and friend of the family, Mr Price. When she was young she'd called him uncle, and that had progressed over the years to Arthur. To now call him Mr Price was daft, and feeling positive at the start of a new and glorious day, she decided she wouldn't do it. He'd started to take her along a path to she knew not where, but she wasn't taking another step.
Leaving the house by the backdoor as the time neared nine, she took a deep breath to calm her apprehension as she walked along the alleyway into Arthur's back garden. She'd have it out with him, and then go into town to meet Christine.
'Ah, there you are,' the man said as Emily wandered through the open door into his kitchen.
'Good morning,' she said pleasantly, but her optimism evaporated as she saw how stern he looked. 'It's going to be hot today,' she added conversationally.
'I'm not interested in the weather, Emily,' he returned, closing the backdoor and turning the key in the lock.
'Wouldn't it be best to let the breeze come through—?'
'What were your thoughts when you went to bed last night?' he suddenly demanded, right out of the blue.
'My thoughts?' she echoed, frowning in puzzlement. 'When I went to bed?'
'Yes, Emily, what were you thinking about as you lay in your bed.'
'I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, Mr Price.' Her resolve not to call him that dissolved in the face of his brusque interrogation.
'Weren't you?'
'No, not really, I went straight to sleep.'
He shook his head and tutted. 'Why do you persist in lying, Emily?'
'Um, lying?' She forced a laugh and nervously brushed her auburn hair away from her brow. 'Why would I be lying?'
'Mr Price,' he prompted.
'Mr Price.'
'Come through to the lounge, Emily. We need to talk.'
Following him along the hall she wondered what he wanted now and then followed his unspoken direction to sit on his sofa, while he stood with his back to the lounge window, shaking his head disapprovingly.
'What is it?' she finally ventured to ask, becoming increasingly uneasy. 'What am I supposed to have done wrong now?'
'Mr Price.'
She huffed in exasperation. 'What am I supposed to have done wrong now, Mr Price?'
'You went to bed last night, and...?' he prompted.
'I... I don't understand...' she said without conviction, fearful that she was beginning to understand only too well.
'You went to bed and masturbated again, Emily,' he stated.
'No,' she gasped, holding her hand to her open mouth. 'I... I...'
'Don't deny it. You went to bed and masturbated, didn't you?'
This was ridiculous, she thought. She was sure he was guessing as he stared accusingly at her. How could he have known what she'd been doing in the privacy of her bed? He was guessing. He had to be. 'No, I did not,' she insisted. 'But if I did it would be no business of yours. What I do in the privacy of my home is my business.'
'And your parents',' he corrected. 'Is this how you intend to carry on when they get back?'
'I did not masturbate last night,' she stated firmly. 'I did not masturbate, Mr Price.'
'I heard you, Emily,' he informed her coldly, dropping the bombshell with perfect timing. 'Through the wall, I could hear every whimper, every disgusting gasp of sexual gratification.'
Lowering her eyes, her cheeks flushing pink, Emily was sure he couldn't have heard her; the walls weren't that thin. But on the other hand he was right, she had masturbated, and somehow he'd discovered her secret. Was there nothing she could do without his knowledge? There'd been no privacy in her home since Arthur had taken control, and now, even beneath her quilt, there was no escaping the man's prying.
'As I said to you the other day, I have nothing against masturbation,' he said. 'But to carry on masturbating when you know your father has seen you, when you know how distressed he was—'
'Oh, just shut up!' Emily snapped impetuously, standing up and moving to the lounge door. 'You've threatened to tell my parents this and that, you've threatened to ruin their holiday, I've had enough of this. As far as I'm concerned you can go to hell!'
'Do your parents know what you've done?' he asked her mysteriously, making her stop in the hall and spin round.
'What do you mean?' she asked.
'If your parents discovered your dreadful secret they'd throw you out of the house.'
Her head spinning, Emily didn't know what he was talking about. Dreadful secret?
Her father had already discovered her masturbating, there could be nothing worse than that, so what did Arthur mean? Had he dreamed up some fantastic story about her? What had he written in the report book? What photographs had he doctored?
Returning in defeat to the lounge she sat back down on the sofa and gazed up at him, his expression one of triumph.
'When I spanked you last night,' he went on, eyeing the tiny triangle of white cotton panties just visible beneath her skirt. 'When I pulled your panties down and spanked you, do you know what I saw, Emily?'
'W-what do you mean?' she stammered.
'Do your parents know what you've done?' he again asked her.
Her breathing fast and shallow, her anxiety rising, Emily held her hand to her head. When Arthur had pulled her panties down to her knees, in the grip of humiliation she'd forgotten about her secret.
Biting her lip, she knew that if her father discovered the existence of the small tattoo on the upper slope of her right buttock he'd be absolutely furious. He hated tattoos on men, but on women it was simply intolerable.
Defacing the body was, in his mind, akin to blasphemy. In his view a girl with a tattoo was nothing but a jezebel, a cheap strumpet, and now Emily's secret was out.
Recalling the time she'd gone to the tattoo artist with a group of girls from the uni, she wished she'd made a stand against having one done. But they laughed at her, taunted her, and finally goaded her into agreeing to have the tattoo. She'd wanted to be like the others, she reflected. She only wanted to be accepted as one of the gang. Had her father not been so strict... no, she could not blame her father.
'In answer to your question,' she said shakily, 'yes, my parents do know.'
'Another lie,' Arthur countered confidently. 'Lies, deceit, insubordination; is there no end to your wickedness?'
'Arthur, can't we—?'
'I was hoping you'd not force me to mention the tattoo. It was obviously your secret and, understanding as I am, I wanted to leave it that way.'
'You can't tell my parents, Arthur,' she beseeched. 'Please, I'm begging you not to tell them.'
With a sadistic glint in his eyes, Arthur took his time scrutinising her as she sat uneasily on the sofa. Emily didn't know what to say, what to do. The tattoo had been a stupid mistake, something she'd bitterly regretted ever since having it done. But it was no good looking back. What was done was done. Arthur had such a hold on her now that she was totally in his hands.
'What... what do you want?' Emily asked uncomfortably. 'Isn't it about time you told me?'
'I think it's too late,' he sighed, shaking his head as though with deep regret. 'I was hoping to help make a fine young woman out of you, and...'
'And what?'
'Perhaps there's still time.'
'What do you mean?'
'I'm not going to give up on you, Emily,' he announced. 'I didn't realise how badly behaved you are, but I set out to make something of you and I'm not going to give up now. No, I'm going to change things.'
'Change what?' she asked timorously, not liking the way this was going.
'I'm going to change tack,' he told her. 'You go into town and enjoy a coffee and some time with your friend.'
Emily stared at Arthur. 'How did you know I'd arranged to meet Christine?' she asked.
'She rang me earlier.'
'Christine wouldn't ring you,' Emily argued. 'How or why would she know your number?'
'Whether you believe that she would or wouldn't is beside the point,' he said casually. 'She rang me because she's worried about you, and with good reason, too. Go to the coffee shop as you'd arranged and I'll prepare the room for you.'
'The room?' she echoed. 'What room?'
'You'll see, Emily,' he said mysteriously. 'You'll see.'
Leaving while she had the chance, Emily wondered whether Arthur had somehow been eavesdropping on her phone conversation. There was no way Christine would ring him, she reflected. She didn't really know the man, let alone his phone number, but how could he know about their arrangements?
Going back into her house to get her little shoulder bag, she noticed her trembling fingers. She was becoming a nervous wreck, she thought, clenching her fists and taking a deep breath. Arthur was slowly and systematically wearing her down.
Just then the front doorbell rang, making her jump and immediately admonish herself for being so twitchy. She went to the front door, and breathed a huge sigh of relief as she opened it and saw the beaming face of her best friend there.
'What's the matter?' Christine asked, wandering into the lounge.
'Everything,' Emily replied. 'Thank goodness you're here.'
'I didn't think you'd go to the coffee shop, so I came to see what's up.'
'Christine, you have to help me,' Emily blurted. 'I'm going to leave home.'
'Great,' the girl grinned. 'We'll get a flat together.'
Emily shook her head. 'No, no you don't understand. I don't have any money.'
'Then how are you going to leave home?'
'That's just it, I don't know. Your parents have a spare room, don't they?'
'Well yes, but...'
'It's Arthur,' Emily sighed. 'He's... oh, I don't know where to start. Did you phone him this morning?'
'Phone your next-door neighbour?' Christine giggled. 'No, of course I didn't. Why would I? How could I? I don't have his number.'
Emily's brow furrowed. 'I thought as much,' she mused.
'What's going on, Emily?'
'Arthur has been disciplining me,' she disclosed. 'By that I mean he's spanked me, tied me with rope, chained me up like a dog, thrashed me with a leather belt...'
'You what?' Christine gasped incredulously.
'You don't believe me, do you?'
'I'm not saying you're lying,' Christine said noncommittally. 'It's just that these are incredible accusations.'
'My parents asked Arthur to keep an eye on me,' Emily explained.
'Yes, you told me.'
'I've always looked upon Arthur as a friend of the family - as an uncle, almost - and didn't think he'd... he has a front door key and a backdoor key,' she finished, as though that explained all.
'Go on,' Christine urged.
'When I get in at night, he's waiting for me.'
'Here, in your house?'
'Yes, he's always lurking, checking up on me, spying on me,' she confided to her friend. 'You won't believe this, Chrissie, but he has a report book in which he fills in the time I go out, when I get back, and all sorts of comments about me. I really don't know what to do.'
'What?' Christine snorted. 'That sounds crazy.'
'He even has photographs of me.'
'Photographs?'
'Here,' Emily said, pulling the envelope out from beneath the sofa. 'You see?'
'Shit, you're not lying,' Christine breathed incredulously. 'But why is he doing this?'
'Because he's a creep,' Emily said with passion. 'But there's worse - he knows about my tattoo.'
'What tattoo?' Christine asked, shocked.
'This tattoo,' Emily said, lifting her skirt, lowering the waistband of her panties a little, and turning. 'See?'
'I didn't know you had that,' Christine said with admiration. 'You're a dark horse, Ems. When did you have it done, and more to the point, how did Arthur get to see it?'
'When he spanked me,' Emily said. 'So do you believe me now?'
'Yep, and you'll be staying with us until your parents get back,' Christine said, giving her answer.
'Thanks, Chrissie.' Emily sighed with relief. 'I can't stay here, that's for sure.'
Having arranged to see her friend at her house as soon as she'd gathered together a few changes of clothing and essentials, she saw her out and was just turning to go upstairs to pack when she froze with dread.
'This is most disappointing,' Arthur said, standing in the kitchen doorway. 'Why do you want to stay at Christine's house?'
'I-I don't,' Emily stammered, forcing an unconvincing smile.
/> 'You're intending to stay at her house until your parents get back from holiday.'
'No, I—'
'After all we've talked about, you're still lying.'
'I'm not.'
'Before you bother to dream up some story or other, I'd better tell you that I was listening. Can you imagine your parents' reaction if they were to hear that you'd left home?'
'I'm not leaving home,' she objected.
'They go on holiday to Spain, and you decide to move out while they're away?'
'Arthur, I am not planning to move out.'
'Mr Price, if you please,' he said sharply. 'This continuing poor behaviour is no good, Emily. It is no good at all, which is why I've just been talking to your father on the phone.'
'What?' Her head spinning, she held her hands to her open mouth. 'You rang him?'
'I had no choice,' he said matter-of-factly. 'You have to understand the position I'm in. The position you've put me in.'
'Are they coming home?' she asked fretfully. 'What did you tell him? What did he say?'
'I had to be honest with him, of course,' he said smoothly. 'I didn't tell him everything, but I had to tell him that you'd come home late on three occasions.' He smiled without warmth. 'Be fair, Emily, what else could I do?'
'But I thought we had an agreement,' she said despairingly.
'So did I,' he concurred. 'I thought we'd agreed that you weren't going to lie any more. I thought you were going to behave as you should. I thought you were going to call me Mr Price.'
'Why should I call you Mr Price?' she challenged.
'Because it's an important part of your education.'
'Education? You were asked to keep an eye on me, not educate me.'
'And that's what I am going to do, Emily,' he vowed ominously. 'I am going to help you become an obedient, respectable young lady. And for starters, your father has forbidden you to go out at all in the evenings for the remainder of their time away. He agrees with me that you can't be trusted.'