Satin and Leather

Creative writing around the themes of spanking, domination and submission

No Going Back 4

No Going Back

Chapter Four

By Patty


Chapter Four

When Rey got home that evening, her Aunt Wanda was filled with questions and chatter. Mercifully, although Wanda knew Rey was late for her first day, it was clear right away that she had not told Uncle George. Rey was able to relax and let the day wind down when she was able to pick out that news. She didn’t have it in her to answer to her uncle too after what happened that afternoon.

“What time did you finally get there? Do you still have the job? Oh of course you do! You’d have been home hours ago if he’d have ‘gave you the sack. Are you going back tomorrow? What does he have planned? He better not do anything with that lovely old stove.”

Rey listened quietly, answering in the few pauses where Wanda really intended a question. The chatter was something to fill the interval between evening and night when Rey would be alone with herself and her memories of the day.

The guests had plans outside the house that evening, so dinner was a simple stew and biscuits for three at the kitchen table. After supper they enjoyed a short game of cribbage, an hour or so of TV and then it was ten PM.

“Morning comes early lassies,” George announced. “I’m turning in.”

Both Rey and Wanda agreed it was time for bed, so they tidied up and left things ready for the guests when they came in.

Wanda left a note inviting them to raid the small refrigerator, and the carafe of hot cocoa steeping above the stoked coals. The still warm biscuits were wrapped and placed in the warmer above the cook stove. Rey arranged some cheese and cookies beside mugs and plates next to Wanda’s note. The cozy tableau that would greet the guests got a nod from both women, and then it was time for bed.

Alone in her room, Rey let her mind flash back through her day. What fixed in her mind, also surged through her body. It was an image of Alan sitting on the chair in his kitchen, his stern expectant expression and that spatula slapping on his palm. Rey cringed with the memory and the pulse of energy that came with it. The idea that she had actually, pulled down her pants and put herself across a strange man’s lap, --- “that” man’s lap --- and let him spank her made her blush and quaver with humiliation. At the same time it ignited the primitive treacherous part of her. She was sexually aroused like she had never been in her life before. The stray thought that flickered through her mind as she stepped out of her jeans shocked her.

“I bet he’ll do it again if I make him mad enough.”

Rey tried to dismiss the scene in her mind, but she couldn’t. It preoccupied her. Each time she redirected her thoughts, it pulled her back. When she sat down on the bed to pull open the drawer for her pajamas, the remnants of the spanking tingled. She shifted from side-to-side on the crewel work bedspread to enhance the now pleasant sensation, and became aware of the wetness between her legs. Confused and embarrassed, she stood up, and moved over to the long mirror behind her door.

Turning, she pulled her panties down, and examined the marks left from the spanking. The imprint of the spatula could be seen outlined in angry red welts in a few places, but the color and marks did not do justice to the level of pain that was inflicted or the still tingling heat that remained. “Hardly looks worth it,” she muttered as she bent down to get a different view from between her knees. That angle let her get closer, and let her examine the marks as her fingers traced them. The view from that angle also brought home the other reality of the afternoon.

The man had seen her bare bottom and everything else too! Rey closed her eyes against the renewal of cringing embarrassment that thought brought with it. “How can I face him again?” she stood and stepped out of her panties and into her pajamas. The confusion of feelings, embarrassment, humiliation, excitement and something that could only be described as anticipation swirled in her mind while she washed her face and finished her preparations for bed.

On her way back to bed, she stopped one more time in front of the mirror. The act of pulling her pants down to bare herself for another look at the damage renewed the tingle and the pulses of energy she felt between her legs. She imagined herself leaning back down across Alan’s lap, this time to be spanked with his hand, and shuddered with the delicious pleasure the idea brought with it.

“Rey, you OK in there?” the sound of her Uncle George’s voice on the other side of the mirror and the door shocked her upright with a shot. Feeling as though she was caught doing something wrong, her heart nearly pounded its way out of her chest.

“Rey?” her Uncle asked again.

“I’m OK Uncle George, I’m just tidying up a little,” Rey forced an answer, and hoped it would not sound guilty. If he came in, she knew her face would look guilty, and there just was no story to explain why.

She was guilty after all. Guilty of forming a dirty little daydream about getting another spanking on her bare bottom by the sexiest man she’d ever known.

“Lights out. Whatever it is will keep until morning. G’night,” was her uncle’s answer.

“Night,” Rey sighed with relief. She pulled back the covers, and climbed between the sheets. With the lights off, she felt safer from the shame of her thoughts. Safe enough to let them have free reign. Safe enough to let her hands stroke and probe herself to help those thoughts accomplish their aim.

“Spank me Alan,” she whispered into her pillow as she turned onto her stomach, and pushed the blankets and sheets off of her, and then her pajama bottoms down again.

“Spank me…. ” she tugged the other pillow under her hips.

“Spank me…. ” she settled down over it, and probed between her thighs with the fingers of her right hand.

The slippery lubricant produced by her body and her fantasy made the work her fingers needed to do easier. The cool night air on her bare backside was not as good as the heat of real spanks would be, but her mind played an image of Alan’s hand striking her that answered what was missing. Her own fingers stroked to inflame a different kind of heat. But it was all the heat of a spanking.

“Spank me, spank me, spank me, spank me.” Rey’s soft almost inaudible chant kept a rhythm with her hips and her fingers. A wonderful rhythm she did not want to have end. Soon though the crisis building within her would not be denied. Rey’s chants became gasps that she had to turn her face and press into her pillow.

“Spank me --- spank me --- please --- spank me!” Her hand churned and stroked wildly between her legs, and her hips lifted and fell meeting fantasy spanks that became harder and harder as her crisis grew. When her climax took her, Rey acknowledged and made a vow to the traitor within her. She would make Alan spank her again. It was not just a desire it was a need that she would not deny. Her hand and the fantasy spanking hand stroked again, harder and faster this time, to seal the deal with the spasms of another climax.

Rey’s sleep was sound. She woke with her pajama bottoms still around her ankles and goose bumps raised by the cool dawn air lifting skin and prickling across her bare bottom.

Come morning and daylight the vow she made lost some of its power. In fact when she examined it in the full brilliance of sunlight, she told herself it was insane. But, it nagged and hovered at the back of her mind. She did not act on it over the course of the next two months, although several times during those weeks, in the safety of the dark, in her bed, the treacherous secret part of her made her renew it in the same way it was made.

***********

The first Nor-Easter of the winter season struck on a Wednesday in mid November. It was forecast to reach storm strength sometime after midnight, but predictably, by mid afternoon it was “whipping up a good one.”

Rey and Alan had been busy working in the basement for most of the day, so when the phone rang to call them up into the world, both of them were surprised by the fury of the winds outside. More than two feet of snow had accumulated and was now blowing in the gale force winds.

Uncle George was on the other end of the call asking Alan to keep Rey there until the worst of it blew over. Alan had no problem with it, but Rey’s first reaction was “No way!” The two men just made a decision about her choice and did not even see fit to consult her!

Why she reacted that way, she couldn’t explain, but she did, and she gave her objection full voice.

“I’ll damned well go home if I want to!” she complained to the window.

“You damned well better not try, and you damned well better watch your mouth,” Alan’s answer was quick, sharp and steely cold.

Rey was taken back by the strength of Alan’s reaction to her comment. He hadn’t so much as growled at her or even issued a warning, in the weeks since that first day, when she reported to work late. So for him to respond to one curse and cross comment so forcefully seemed excessive.

“OK? Gee? Don’t take my head off,” Rey let her surprise show with a slight edge of flip in her tone of voice.

“At least this way you’re stranded where you can still be useful,” Alan growled and turned to go into the kitchen.

Rey followed him. “I’m not your slave you know? Just because I’m stuck here doesn’t mean I’ll work any more than usual. You get what you pay for Mr. and that’s it!”

“I have to feed you two extra meals for the next day or so, I think I can get an hour or two extra for my trouble,” Alan grinned.

“The hell you can!” Rey quipped.

“Hey? That’s enough of that mouth?” Alan’s tone was a milder warning.

“If I was a stranded tourist you would feed me without making me work,” Rey answered his warning with a good-natured tease.

“You’re no tourist, and food costs,” Alan pulled the refrigerator door open to rummage for something for supper. “Better do up something that’ll keep in case the power fails. You go out to the shed and haul in two or four bushel bins of wood before it’s buried so deep you have to dig.”

“Why don’t I make supper and you go get wood?” Rey complained about the distribution of work.

“My house, my call. Wood. Go slave,” Alan grinned again.

“If it’s too dangerous for a little girl like me to go home in this weather, it’s too dangerous for me to haul wood too,” Rey argued. While she did, she stepped into her boots, and threw her scarf around her neck.

“Put your coat on too!” Alan barked as she reached for the door to the sun porch.

“It’s just a few feet! I’m fine!” Rey ignored him, and slipped out of the room.

“You get your argumentative little butt back in here NOW!” Alan’s voice boomed after her. He was behind her and in the doorway in two strides.

“Coat!” he barked when Rey moved to obey the order to comeback.

“You’re worse than Uncle George!” Rey complained. She pulled her coat down off the hook that held it, and pushed her arms roughly into the sleeves. An unbecoming pout settled across her face. It made her look like the ten-year old his barking made her feel like.

“You better know it,” Alan nodded toward the door. “Don’t dawdle either.”

The cold, the wet and the wind made the chore of loading wood, and carrying it into the sun porch difficult. Rey made six trips, figuring the extra bushels would give Alan an extra day before he had to dig out more. The hardest thing about the chore was getting the large oilskin tarp to stay down over the stack so she could secure the ties that would help keep the remaining wood dry. When Rey finished and made the last trip into the house, a huge gust of wind knocked her hard against the clapboards. She knew if she’d been out on the road on her way home at that point, that the wind would have taken her off her feet, and she would have been in a bad way.

That knowledge didn’t keep her from feeling mildly irritated that her choice was made for her without her input. “And just what was with Alan anyway?” she thought to herself as she struggled with the door against the wind. Weeks and weeks had gone by and everything was as normal and easy as you please. They talked, he gave her jobs to do, she asked questions when she had them, expressed her own ideas when she thought they were better than his, and not even once had he objected, or raised his voice.

It had been much easier than Rey could have hoped to get past the childish start she’d had with him. And now here he was, out of the blue, acting like the stern disciplinarian again and all she’d done was issue one curse word and an objection.

The wind behind the door made it too heavy for her to manage while holding the bushel. Instead of knocking and banging to get Alan’s attention, or putting down the basket and trying with both hands, she struggled and pulled and twisted. The door gave slightly, and then promptly slammed back with the next gust. Rey tried again, and this time swung her hip to get around the edge of the door before it could swing back. The wind took it anyway. The shifted weight of the door took Rey off balance, and the icy surface of the stoop, gave her feet no purchase. She fell and the basket of wood did too. Her last load of wood scattered into the snowdrifts. Worse than the frustration of that was the incredible searing pain that shot through her shins. They had both taken the full weight of her fall, onto the edge of the top step of the stoop.

“Oh! Holy Mother of God! Jesus H Christ! And Fucking damn it to hell!” she screamed, as she crouched down into a ball to nurse her destroyed legs.

“What in the?” Alan stood above her filling the doorframe.

“Just shut the fuck up! I hurt myself!” Rey whimpered and rocked, holding her shins, waiting for the wave of searing pain to abate. “Please, please, please, please, oh, owie owie aow!” her whimpers became a low moan when the pain of the impact finally found its peak, and began to ease back down to a throb.

“Are you hurt?” Alan stepped down beside her trying to assess the damage.

“Christ you’re stupid! Of course I’m hurt!” Rey reacted from the remnants of pain. Like hitting her funny bone or bumping her head, bashing her shins seemed to direct her mind, and her mouth along with it, to a place where rage was as intense as the pain.

“Here, let me help you,” Alan reached over to help lift her upright.

“Ow! Don’t! Don’t touch me! I can do it myself!” Rey pulled away, and fell onto her backside.

“Can you stand?” Alan ignored her objection, and moved with her.

“Jesus Christ Alan! Leave me alone!” Rey shook her shoulders out from under the grip he almost had under her arms. Successful, she rolled away from him onto her stomach, and began to ease herself up. “Ow!” she moaned again when the muscles on the front of her shins tensed and ached with the effort. She was able to get to her feet.

Alan stood back with his arms crossed over his chest and watched her. He was giving her a minute or two to collect herself, and if she didn’t get herself pulled back in line, he would do it for her.

Rey saw his gruff expression, and it inflamed her still throbbing temper.

“You get the rest of the wood! You should have done it in the first place!” she hissed. In four strides she was up the steps, and through the door into the porch.

Alan shifted his weight and tempered his thoughts. When she was inside, he quickly surveyed the area, picked up the scattered wood, and had it inside by the pile in under a minute.

Rey was sitting on the rattan settee next to the pile of wood, pulling her corduroy trouser up over her shins. She had two nasty looking eggs growing about midway between her knees and ankles. The skin was broken a little on one side, but other than bruising that would be painful for a week or more, there was no lasting damage done.

“Let me guess, you tried the door and didn’t put the basket down didn’t you?” Alan’s observation intruded on Rey’s recovery.

“Just shut up!” Rey covered her shins with her cool palms, and closed her eyes on the slight relief that offered.

“Pain or no pain Rey, you’d better cool it with the attitude,” Alan warned.

Rey said nothing, and just kept her chin tucked between her knees, and her palms soothing her shins.

“Hear me?” Alan coaxed.

“Fuck! YES! I hear you!” Rey snapped her head up and directed her raging dark gaze at Alan’s face.

“Rey?” Alan’s voice was hard. The inflection framed a question, and there was no mistaking what it was.

“I said I heard you didn’t I?” Rey backed down off of her temper quickly as soon as she saw that his expression was as hard as his tone of voice. When Alan turned to go inside the kitchen, Rey shivered. Goose bumps that followed a now familiar wave of arousal prickled across her skin, and her groin pulsed with what remained of the electricity of that wave. She’d made him mad. She woke up the spanker, and seeing him awake, the traitor within her woke too. Would Rey dare let her go after what she wanted?

“Clean up that wood pile before you come in, and bring in enough for the stove for the night,” Alan barked orders from within the kitchen.

Rey resisted the urge to retort with a vivid description of where she thought he could put the wood. But the anger of being bossed around while injured seethed through her. She stayed seated for several more minutes, letting the throb in her shins ease up some. She could hear Alan moving around in the kitchen. Cupboards opening and closing. And she could feel the floorboards beneath her shift with his weight as he moved about. Time passed almost without notice, as Rey became lost in thought.

“Hey? Look lively out here! Get the job done and get in here and close the door!” Alan bellowed when he stuck his head out into the porch and saw she was not moving.

“Oh keep your shirt on!” Rey waved her hand as if to wave off a fly.

“I’ll need a coat on if you don’t get in here and close the door. Get moving and do what I told you. NOW!” Alan punctuated the last word with a solid flat palmed hit to the doorframe. The sound of the impact made Rey flinch, and the expression on his face dared the traitor within her.

Rey struggled to keep her head. The result was a defiant stare and a put upon huff as she stood to comply with his order. Alan’s response was to raise his eyebrow, cross his arms over his chest and lean back against the frame. Rey felt herself blush with the arousal his stern demeanor produced in her. She quickly turned away and nervously shuffled the wood toward the wall with her feet.

“Your attitude stinks young lady. Get it under control, or we’ll be having a long unpleasant talk about it,” he watched her work.

“Shut up,” Rey’s answer was a petulant mutter. Shuffling the wood soccer style wasn’t going to fly getting the job done, but Rey was not going to bend and present her backside to Alan while she was so preoccupied by what he could do to it in that position.

“You have about three minutes to get yourself straightened up and get in here. If you bring that attitude in with you, you’ll be one sorry little girl.” Alan did not stay to hear an answer.

Rey saw him move away out of the corner of her eye. When he was safely out of sight she satisfied her ire by flipping him the finger. Muttering to herself, she stacked the wood, came into the kitchen, made a production of shucking her coat and hanging it up, and then pushed the door shut with a little more force than was necessary.

Alan pretended to ignore her, figuring to give her enough rope to hang her own hide.

Rey moved behind him into the hallway. Once there, she realized she didn’t have a place to settle or the freedom to occupy herself like she would at home.

“Can I use your computer before the phone lines go down? Or watch TV or something?” she turned to ask.

“What will you do on the computer?” Alan asked.

“Go online. You have the Internet right?” Rey knew he did, because two thirds of the wallpaper and all of the nicer ceramics and fixtures had been ordered in from away.

“I do, but only one password,” he answered.

“I have my own account. It’s AOL right? There is only one provider out here on this island!” Rey’s tone was mildly sarcastic.

“Go ahead, knock yourself out. Maybe it’ll even out your mood,” Alan waved her off down the hall toward the large front room where his small home office set up was situated.

Rey powered on, and was pleased that the storm had not yet knocked out phone service. The connection went through quickly, and on the first attempt. Something that rarely was accomplished even in good weather. She checked her e-mail, and visited a couple of web sites she frequented, but found nothing interesting.

Soon her mind wandered, and she became restless. Alan was still busy in the kitchen doing who knows what, and she did not want to go in there where she might get irritated again. The tension she was feeling within herself made her feel nervous with just the thought of being near him. All the right buttons had been pushed. If she took one or two more steps she would easily cross the line, and the chances were good he would spank her again. Her real problem was that as sexually exciting as that possibility was on one level, on another, she didn’t really want to feel the embarrassment and humiliation that came with being that ‘bad’ and ending up in that position.

The traitor inside her told her she would wish she had gone all the way, when dark came and she had only an old memory to satisfy her need. But the intelligent, articulate young lady who liked Alan and enjoyed pleasing him, wasn’t as keen to anger him just because it felt sexy.

Rey was also very afraid of the feelings she was having. Alan was becoming much more than a nice man who paid her to do a job, and she was very mindful of how much younger she was than he. A grown man like him would never be interested in a spoiled brat who was so childish she still needed to be spanked.

Still, the reality that he could spank her, and the confusing lure of it held on to her. “If only it didn’t come with all that other stuff?” she told herself. “Yeah and if only it didn’t hurt so much either!” she growled to her fingers on the keyboard. Then she looked up at the Google search bar and dared herself. There was no Uncle George to check up on her. There was no chance that any parent controls would be set here when the only one using the computer was a full-grown man who was a schoolteacher.

Checking the hall, she made sure Alan was nowhere near, and then she typed. “SPANKING” into the bar, and then she clicked go. In seconds the search popped up. The display had 40 hits per page, and the counter said 1 of 104588 pages. Lots of the links were to sites about parents spanking children. On the first seven pages few of the links took her to web sites that had anything more than newspaper articles or stuff for parents, but at the top of the seventh page a link took her to another page of links. The banners on that page made Rey’s eyes open wide in amazement.

There were bare bottoms of women bent over in the graphics. Even some that had marks that appeared in animation. It was “Spanking’s Top 100.” The banners and links advertised sites with names like “Blistered Butts” and “Paddles.” So many of them too! Rey’s heart pounded. Again she looked around to make sure Alan was not there. A guilty excitement infused her. When she confirmed she still had the room to herself, with her hands trembling, she clicked on the first of the links.

Yes she was over 18, and yes she wanted to enter. “Oh My God!” she could not believe what was there. Pictures of girls getting spanked. Actual people with their pants pulled down and everything! Time flew by, and Rey became engrossed. Men and women, getting and giving spankings. It was a world she had no idea existed, and it was a world she knew she had to explore more.

Some of the sites were nothing but pictures, too many required something called Agecheck® and credit cards to get past more than the first few pages, but some were free.

One of the last sites Rey reached was a site called Bethany’s Corner. It had links to free stories that were going to change everyday. Rey read the one that was on display at that moment. It was chapter one of a story called the New Schoolmaster. Rey became enthralled. Her heart pounded, and her arousal refocused and intensified. After reading the story and finding a link to a spanking forum called Spankspot, Rey found a pen, and wrote down the URLs to both. She’d like to come back there if she ever got a chance to again. "In the meantime,” she thought. “I’m not done looking.”

The picture sites and the ones with stories were the ones she was most interested in. She clicked through several more, and then the power flickered.

“Aw Hell!” Rey thumped the desk. The dial up was lost, and the machine started its reboot. The power flickered again, and then Alan came down the hall.

“Power off. The surge protector is crap, I don’t want any data corrupted,” Rey’s disappointment could not be hidden, but at least Alan couldn’t know why.

“You’ve been at this for hours anyway. It’s almost seven. The stew will be ready in another few minutes. Go wash up,” Alan issued instructions. “You can have the bedroom at the end of the hall on your right at the top of the stairs. Clean sheets are in the closet in the master bedroom. Pick some out, make the bed, and come on back down for supper.”

Rey sighed, nodded and wandered toward the stairs.

“No snooping in my room either,” Alan called after her.

“No snooping in my room either,” Rey mimicked with a very unflattering grimace as she made her way up the steps. She wasn’t in the mood to fight any more, but she was definitely irritated that she’d been interrupted in her search. The thought struck her that next time she’d get further, if, instead of reading while on line she printed what she could and read it later. “If there is a next time,” she complained to the sheets as she smoothed them onto the bed.

“Come on down here now! Quit dawdling!” Alan’s command boomed up the steps.

“Christ almighty you’re bossy as hell!” Rey told the walls. “What’s with him anyway?”

The meal passed in relative silence. Rey was lost in thought. Anxious to find a way to get back on line and explore the world she’d found. Alan was just used to quiet.

“Your turn to work now Rey,” he broke the silence at the end of the meal. “I’m going to check on the weather and see what news I can bring in on the TV. You clear up and get the dishes out of the way.”

“But I don’t know where you put things?” Rey complained.

“You’ll figure it out,” Alan stood and left her to the mess.

“Goddamn it you bossy son of a bitch!” she hissed in what she thought was a whisper.

“And when you’re done in there, come out to the living room, we’re going to have a talk about your sudden change in attitude and penchant for bad language,” came an answer Rey was not expecting. It sent a shiver through her, and nervous energy caused her stomach to churn.

He didn’t sound mad enough to spank her. Did he? Maybe he was just going to issue a lecture? Maybe he just wanted to shake her up?

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