by Ray Gordon
'I know what you meant, young lady,' he growled, dragging the armchair into the centre of the room. 'Bend over the back again, if you please.'
'I didn't mean that I took the photos.'
'I realise that. What you meant was they're your photos; they belong to you. That's right, isn't it?'
'No, I—'
'The chair, young lady,' he ordered again.
Standing behind the piece of furniture, Emily felt her buttocks clench and her stomach churn as she tried to prepare herself for another spanking. At least Arthur hadn't brought his cane, if that was any compensation. She was already becoming brainwashed into accepting this treatment, she realised - a spanking being acceptable and preferable to a caning. What did any of it matter? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more, she thought, as he again ordered her to bend over the back of her father's favourite armchair.
Reluctantly bending forward from the waist and adopting the required position, she held the chair's arms and squeezed her eyes shut as Arthur folded her dress up over her hips and tensed her buttocks in readiness for the gruelling spanking...
The palm of his hand smacked across the rounded flesh of her panty-clad bottom with a loud slap, and he pinned her down with his free hand on her neck. 'You're a filthy, disgusting little tart,' he growled, again slapping the sensitive flesh of her stinging bottom. 'You're a slut, a whore, a slag, a common little strumpet. Never have I had the misfortune to known such a dirty, filthy, smutty trollop.'
Letting out a pitiful yelp with every stinging slap, Emily listened to his unjust tirade. Again and again his palm splatted against her tight white panties, the sounds of her wails, the spanks and his heavy breathing filling the room. With the pain permeating the fiery globes of her bottom she began to wonder whether she was a slut. Perhaps Arthur was right.
Could he see, she wondered as her embarrassment soared, the sweet swell of her sex lips held snugly inside her panties? This was degradation, humiliation and violation beyond belief. But she was trapped by the man, she reflected.
'No cooling cream this time,' Arthur eventually said, halting the merciless spanking, his breathing strained. 'No special treatment for you like before. Now put your hands behind your back.'
'My hands behind my back?' she gasped from her bent position. 'What are you going to do to me now?'
'Bind your wrists,' he replied frankly, taking a short white piece of rope from a trouser pocket.
'Arthur, no please,' she begged as he crossed her arms on the small of her back and tied her wrists together.
'I have to do this, young lady,' he decreed. 'It's for your own good. With your wrists bound you can't touch yourself in wicked ways, or use your disgusting carnal toy.'
'May I stand up now, please?' Emily sulked, sniffing back a sob.
'Mr Price.'
'May I stand up now, please, Mr Price?'
'Yes, you may,' he allowed. 'Now, I've been pondering your attitude,' he continued once she'd stiffly straightened up and turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears and her cheeks flushed, 'and it continues to disappoint me.'
As he turned to look out of the window Emily tried to free her wrists, but the rope was too well tied and too tight. She gazed wistfully at the photograph of her parents on the mantelpiece. Her mother was smiling, her father's expression stern. From the photograph they'd witnessed the spanking of their daughter's bottom, she mused ruefully.
Emily knew that she had to resign herself to the fact that she was now completely under Arthur's control. He'd wanted to play a major role in her life, and that's exactly what he'd achieved. But hopefully, once her parents were home, his unfair regime would at last come to an end.
She wondered what to do. The phone was out of order, and even if she managed to get out of the house, even if she could manage to avoid the beady surveillance of her odious neighbour, she could hardly walk down the street with her hands tied behind her back. Feeling utterly trapped she sat on the sofa and winced and squirmed a little as her stinging buttocks made contact with it.
'Arthur, you can't keep doing this to me,' she tried reasoning with him.
'Be quiet,' he said dismissively, turning back to look down at her. 'For now you'll only speak when spoken to. Do you understand me?'
Emily's shoulders sagged despondently. 'Yes, Mr Price,' she whispered, knowing any other response was pointless.
'Things have gone from bad to worse, Emily,' he said. 'If your parents knew you had that disgusting phallic thing upstairs they'd be destroyed.'
'But it isn't mine—'
'You will only speak when spoken to,' he silenced her angrily. 'If I have to tell you again you'll be in serious trouble. As it is you're in enough trouble already. The report book is evidence of that. I have an accurate catalogue of your disgusting behaviour. Never before have I had the misfortune to come across such a wanton, undisciplined young lady.'
Sitting on the sofa and hanging her head as Arthur ranted, Emily wondered where all this would end.
'I'll be back soon,' his diatribe finally drew to a close. 'And when I return I want to find you in a more compliant mood.'
Again struggling in vain to free her hands as she listened to him leave, she flopped back on the sofa and sighed resignedly. Gazing again at the photograph of her parents looking judgementally down upon her, she felt her shame and apprehension rising. She was in the family lounge with her hands tied behind her back, wearing a dress with no bra and her bottom pulsing from a recent spanking. They could never learn of the events overtaking her since they'd been away, she decided. Whatever it took, whatever she had to do, she'd make sure her parents never, ever knew anything of this. Even though she was sure they'd ultimately support her, she knew it would damage their faith in their daughter, and damage their friendship with their neighbour too, and she didn't want to be the cause of any fallings out - no matter how much she now loathed him.
Chapter 9
Having waited uneasily on the sofa for an hour, Emily jumped as she heard the backdoor open. Turning and looking at the lounge door she wondered what to expect now. Trembling, she waited in trepidation as she heard someone enter the kitchen and the backdoor close.
Arthur strolled into the lounge and gazed down at her struggling to sit up straight, not an easy task with her hands tied behind her back.
'I've been meaning to ask you something,' he said forthrightly. 'How many men have you made love with?'
The intrusive question came right out of the blue and Emily stared at him, utterly shocked by it and his audacity in asking it. 'How dare you ask such a thing?' she gasped.
'Oh come on, Emily,' he said, waving her objection away dismissively. 'How many?'
'Not that it's any of your business,' she stated curtly, looking up at him as he moved to stand before her, 'but I'm a virgin, if you must know.'
'A virgin?' he echoed, reaching out to stroke her hair. 'Really? At your age?'
'It's true,' she insisted, warily sensing a change of mood in the man. He seemed more like his old self. He seemed more approachable, more like the friendly neighbour she'd always known. 'I've never... I've never made love with anyone.'
'That's interesting...' Arthur mused. 'Very interesting, but a little difficult to believe, what with the way you've been behaving over the past few days.'
'Honestly, Arthur,' Emily insisted, wanting him to believe her now her secret was out, 'I am a virgin. I've never slept with anyone. Nobody's even touched me intimately.'
Arthur sat on the sofa beside her, his thigh resting against hers. 'Okay, Emily,' he comforted, patting her knee reassuringly, 'if you say so then I do believe you.' He smiled at her and she smiled at him, relieved. 'Now, I'll untie your hands for you.'
'Yes please, Arthur,' she sighed eagerly, 'I'd like you to do that.'
She turned her back a little and Arthur loosened the rope, pausing for a brief second to surreptitiously study her; her beautiful profile; her silky hair; her slender throat; the profile of her breast, a
nd down to her thighs. He then slipped the rope into his trouser pocket and unaware of the brief inspection she'd just suffered, she turned back to face him, rubbing her wrists to get the circulation back.
'Is that better?' he asked.
'Yes, thank you,' Emily replied, her pulse quickening a little as she thought he looked fleetingly at her breasts, 'that's much better. I was getting pins and needles in my arms and my wrists were getting a little sore.'
'Yes, I'm sorry, but I had to teach you a lesson, you see?' he explained. 'Although perhaps I have been a little overzealous in my duties. I'm one of the old school, you see? And I've never before had to cope with a modern-day teenager.'
'No, I understand,' she conceded generously, smiling prettily at him.
'Thanks for being so understanding, Emily,' he said, putting his hand on her knee. 'I'm afraid I've made a bit of a hash of things,' he said apologetically, 'haven't I?'
'Oh no, Arthur,' she hastily tried to reassure him, putting a dainty hand on top of his where it rested on her knee. 'It's been all my fault, really. I should have been better behaved for you.'
He smiled and moved his hand just a fraction higher up her thigh. 'Thank you, my dear girl,' he said, 'you're such a sweet thing. I've always been extremely fond of you, and I'd hate to think we might fall out over all this.'
'We won't, Arthur,' she said with conviction, squeezing his hand as his hand squeezed her thigh. 'Really we won't.'
'That means a lot to me,' he said, and eased his hand down between her thighs just a little, despite her smooth limbs remaining tightly together. 'You really are a beautiful girl, Emily,' he went on, his eyes moving down and focussing on the tiny triangle of white peeping from between her thighs, just beneath the hem of her dress, his words and gaze making her somewhat uncomfortable.
'Arthur!' she admonished, playfully pushing against his shoulder, trying to lighten the suddenly intense atmosphere between them. There was a long moment's pause as he raised his eyes and scrutinised her clear face, pinning her with his stare. Emily held her breath, unsure of herself, and then he laughed and, greatly relieved, she exhaled and laughed too, all tension suddenly evaporating.
'I'm glad we've made up, Emily,' he went on.
'I have tried to behave,' she said, feeling she needed to put her point now they were on sensible talking terms again. 'I've done everything you've told me to and I've tried to be as obedient as I can be. But many of your demands on me are too unreasonable,' she explained. 'I've tried my best to be good, but you've asked too much of me.'
'I have?' he said amiably.
Emily nodded. 'It's true, you have,' she said. 'I've not known if I'm coming or going, and some of the things you've done to me...'
'But you continually argue and disobey,' he reasoned. 'I was only doing what your parents asked as best I could. But you continually made my task harder than it should be, Emily, and it was extremely tiresome.'
'I'm sorry,' she apologised.
'But now you'll do as you're told?' he asked, but seeing her stiffen a little he added, 'Let's meet each other halfway, okay?'
'Okay,' she agreed.
'Excellent,' he said. 'I understand that you want to go out in the evenings and have some fun with your friends.'
'Well yes, I do,' she confirmed, barely noticing the hand press a little further between her thighs, and move a little nearer that small white triangle of cotton.
'There you are, then,' he smiled. 'I'm only trying to help you.'
Emily was a little confused. 'You mean, you'll allow me out at night even though my father has said I have to stay in?' Both her hands were now resting around his wrist, but when his hand again moved a fraction closer to her panties she did nothing to stop it; clearly it was an innocent movement and she didn't want to embarrass him by making an issue of it.
'Of course I will,' he said. 'Things are different between us now, Emily. 'You're an adult, and so you deserve to be treated like one. I'm not such an old fuddy-duddy as to stand in your way of having some fun with your friends. So if you really want to go to the wine bar—'
'Yes I do, I do,' she beamed eagerly.
'You'd like to meet young Jack?'
'Yes, I would.'
'Very well,' he said. 'If it means that much to you, I'm prepared to cover for you if you want to go out at night. Would you like me to help you?'
Emily's brow furrowed as she considered this, the fingers between her thighs gently stroking their smoothness without meeting any complaint or resistance. 'I don't like the idea of lying to my parents,' she said.
'We won't lie, dear girl,' he reassured her. 'We'll just be a little conservative with the truth, that's all. What your mother and father don't know won't hurt them, now will it?'
'No, I suppose it won't,' she agreed, the prospect of freedom an enticing one. 'Thanks, Arthur.'
'Are you feeling more relaxed about things?' he asked her.
'Yes, I think so,' she replied.
'You're doing very well, Emily,' he praised her, somewhat cryptically. 'You're a star pupil, in fact. So tell me, where will you go this evening? To the wine bar?'
'Yes, I will,' she admitted. 'Jack might be there.'
'I'm sure he will be there,' he said. 'I know I would be if I were his age and had the chance of a date with you.' Emily blushed at the compliment and didn't notice the fingers stroking ever closer to her white cotton panties. 'And no doubt he'll be very pleased to see you. I've planned my evening, too.'
'You have?' she asked.
'Yes, I'm going to destroy the photographs I took of you and wipe the backups I made. And I'll have to make some changes to the report book, too; always home by ten as instructed, excellent behaviour etcetera etcetera. Your parents will be so pleased with you.'
'But you've already told them I got home late,' she reminded him. 'You rang my father.'
'I'll say I was mistaken. I'll say I heard someone in the street and assumed it was you. I'll tell them you've been staying at home, studying. If we stick to the same story you'll be all right. Are you happy with that?'
Emily nodded, brightening up even more. 'Yes,' she smiled. 'Yes I am.'
'Good, then I think we're going to get along very well from now on. Just like we always used to.'
With Arthur so close and in this sort of kind mood she suddenly felt strangely safe and secure. And having his hand between her thighs was innocent enough, wasn't it? More paternal than anything questionable. He was just being affectionate toward her, like he always used to be.
'That's good...' Arthur said in a low voice, although Emily was unsure to what he was referring. 'You're enjoying this, aren't you?' he asked, his fingers gently stroking between her closed thighs.
'En-enjoying what?' she whispered, a dangerous, confusing excitement starting to twist her insides, and a damp warmth beginning to simmer inside her panties.
'Us two,' he elaborated, 'talking like this, like we used to, friends again. What did you think I meant?'
'Oh,' Emily sighed, relieved, flustered, 'yes I'm enjoying it... I mean no, I didn't think you meant anything,' she rambled on, not knowing what she was saying but feeling the need to keep talking, wanting to keep him in this good mood but keeping her thighs defensively closed around his hand.
'That's good,' he smiled. 'I don't want us falling out again. We've been friends for so long, and I wouldn't want you thinking badly of me.'
'No, me neither,' she whispered.
Arthur gently extricated his hand and patted her knee again. 'Good, I'm glad we had this little chat. So I'll tear out the incriminating pages from the report book and we'll start afresh, yes?'
Emily nodded eagerly.
'I'm sure your parents will believe me if I say something like I spilled coffee over those particular pages.'
Arthur was more like his old self and Emily relaxed some more, but why this sudden change of attitude? From chaining her to the radiator, locking her in her house, binding her wrists and spanking and beating her, he was
now relaxing the extreme restrictions on her and allowing her to go out. Had he changed tack because he knew his draconian methods weren't working? Whatever his reason, Emily sensed that she still had to be a little careful. But there again, he seemed his old sincere self, so perhaps she could now relax and enjoy the rest of her time alone at home until her parents got back from holiday.
'To put your father's mind at rest, and your mother's, I'll ring them this evening and report that you've been a model daughter,' Arthur continued, his hand squeezing her knee reassuringly.
'Ah yes, that reminds me,' Emily said, 'our phone doesn't work for some reason.'
'Oh?' Arthur looked surprised. 'I'll report the fault for you. I'm sure they'll get it back on soon. By the way,' he winked at her conspiratorially, 'you'd better hide your vibrator thing. You don't want your parents discovering it.'
'It really isn't mine,' Emily assured him. 'I've no idea where it came from.'
'Whatever you say,' he chuckled, as though he didn't believe her but pretended he did to save her embarrassment. 'But make sure you hide it well anyway.'
'I'll do better than that, I'll get rid of the obscene thing altogether,' she vowed. 'I certainly don't want it.'
'And the photographs you have?'
'Yes, yes I'll get rid of them too. I'll burn them.'
'Good girl,' he said, nodding thoughtfully. 'We don't want your parents discovering anything about this fortnight you wouldn't want them to, do we?'
'No we don't, thanks,' Emily agreed. This was all beginning to work out rather well, she thought, her spirits rising as she relaxed and the tension left her. Allowed out in the evenings with no definite curfew, the incriminating evidence destroyed; she had nothing to worry about now - apart from making sure she kept Arthur onside from hereon in. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all, she reflected. Perhaps he really had only been trying to do what was best for her. She lifted one foot up onto the sofa, holding her ankle with both hands, her breasts moulding to her raised thigh, her chin resting on her knee. 'Sorry if I've been a bit of a pain, Arthur,' she said. 'I didn't mean to be.'