Satin and Leather

Creative writing around the themes of spanking, domination and submission

No Going Back 2

No Going Back

Chapter Two

By Patty

Chapter Two

Wanda and George talked quietly together in the kitchen after Alan left. They were please that Audrey might have something to occupy herself with finally. They were also pleased that Alan was giving thought to staying on for awhile. They both had known his parents well. Wanda and his mother Lacey, were in fact, very close life long friends.

Wanda was quietly pleased, and comforted to see her old friend’s prediction come so close to the mark. Lacey told everyone that her youngest son belonged to the island. Alan was so much a part of the island, Lacey told Wanda, that his spirit had never really left it. Lacey always said she knew, in her heart, that Alan would be back. She never stopped feeling him there in the house with her. Even in her dreams she saw him there, moving around the house, visiting with guests, setting tables and meals out for them, just as she had always done.

George had little patience for his wife’s fanciful descriptions of her dead friend’s ideas, but he was happy to see her smiling with fond memories.

When Audrey came back in from her bedroom, it was time to start setting out supper for the quests George collected from the ferry earlier in the day. The three worked together to get the work done.

“Rey, my girl, how did you come to bring Alan up here for a visit?” George asked in an off hand way, as he helped his wife move dishes through the alcove to the large expansive common room.

“He was down on the beach, Uncle George,” Rey answered after a few seconds. His question surprised her just a little. She’d been so relieved that Alan hadn’t spilled the beans about her rude behavior, that the question gave her a momentary lurch of uncertainty. Maybe he had told on her, and maybe this was her uncle’s way of bringing it up to her?

“I didn’t know you knew him,” George said with a hint of question in his voice.

“I don’t, he was just there on the dock, and we struck up a conversation,” Rey explained, hoping that would be as close as she had to get to what the actual conversation entailed.

“I see,” George nodded with a wink. “Nice to see you being sociable for a change young lady”

Rey cringed as he said that, but said nothing. If her uncle knew how rude she’d been, she’d let him say so. If he didn’t, she’d just hope it was long past making a difference before anyone else told him.

“He’s a nice enough sort I’d say, wouldn’t you girl?” George pressed the conversation.

“I guess,” Rey answered with a non-committal shrug.

“He comes from good family. Six generations here on this island they be,” George pointed out, as if the Woodward’s tenure as citizens was all there was to say in support of their worth.

“The way I hear tell of it is he left. Left his mother alone to cope with a rooming house and all the cores, and a husband who was as mean as November storms,” Rey countered her uncle’s testimony of Alan’s worthiness.

“The boy left to go to school girl!” Wanda spoke up. “His mother wanted that for him. It was a good half-year late before he went too, if my memory’s right. Him wanting to stay for her sake and all.”

“After his father had it out with him for drinking and carousing down at the taverns, is what I’ve heard said,” Rey answered her aunt’s defense of the stranger who’d been nothing more than an irrelevant ghost from the island’s past, only hour before.

“Gossip is what that is Rey. Plain mean gossip. Don’t be repeating any more of it in this house now, do ye’hear me?” Wanda said. Her tone of voice made her disdain clear.

“You know, I never knew anything but the gossip about those people before now, and I’m not especially interested in any more than that either,” Rey complained. Now that it seemed to be becoming unpleasant, she was starting to feel tired of the whole subject of Alan, his past and his family. “I didn’t much care for the man anyway if you want to know the truth.”

“Alan’s a good sort Rey, you be treating him well now do you hear?” George warned.

Rey said nothing in response to her uncle’s warning. Instead she retreated into silence, and listened to her aunt and uncle chatter on as they finished preparing and laying out supper.

Smelling food, or answering a timed invitation, Rey wasn’t sure which; the guests began to trickle in to the common room only a few minutes later.

Amiable chit-chat about things to do and see on the island, replaced the subject of Alan Woodward for the rest of the evening. Rey let herself relax in her seat at the window end of the table. She spoke when spoken to, but for the most part, she let her mind wander out over the glistening red mud of the exposed ocean floor.

A very unnerving pre-occupation seemed to be taking hold of her. All of the rocks and boats and boxes seemed to become surfaces that were the perfect height for a man, like Alan, to sit on with her tossed over his knee, or they were perfect for a girl her size to be bent over. Either would accomplish the same end, which was that she would be spanked. Never in her life before, had Rey experienced anything like she felt in those moments. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but it certainly was confusing.


One of Grand Manan’s more amazing attractions was the legendary Bay of Fundy tides. That night, low tide coincided with the sunset, and the sight was spectacular. The already red mud glowed vermilion, laced with cobalt water ribbons, thanks to the reflected light from the sky. Lobster boats and dinghy’s beached by low tide, listed on their sides near and by the docks. Buoys and floats rested beside their anchor chains on small surreal red islands surrounded by hundreds of shallow cobalt blue rivulets and running streams. The occasional unlucky fish flopped and struggled in shrinking shallow pools. While a few of the luckier ones tried to navigate the shallow streams, their dorsal fins riding like sharks, as they chase rushing tide south to the Atlantic. Crabs and other scurrying creatures moved among the clumps of seaweed and rocks, casting long grotesque shadows as they scavenged and ran for cover. It would be hours before the ocean came back to put things right again.

The tides were as much a part of the island and its life, as the air and the sea were. They were more than a tourist attraction. They provided income for those souls intrepid enough to harvest what the exposed sea floor had to offer. Even so, there was a raw untamed quality too the tides, and the fact of them, that made Rey and many others uneasy.

Over the years untold hundreds of island residents, and visitors ended up caught and trapped by the returning high tide. Able to walk out on the sea floor, in some places for miles, they found themselves too far from land when the tide made its turn back in. Many lost their lives to that fate, and the few who survived often found themselves trapped on one of the smaller surrounding islands or a buoy, until they were rescued or until the low tide turned again.

Much of the island lore and mythology came from stories about the tides, stranded, trapped and lost seafarers and ship wrecks. Some of the surrounding islands were said to be haunted, and many believed the Bay of Fundy had her own soul. ‘If your heart was pure she’d leave you be, if it wasn’t, you’d best not test her.’

Long after their supper was finished, the guests and their hosts stayed at the table. Talk was about the island, about the bay, and the sunset. Rey listened quietly until it was too dark to see beyond the panes of glass in the large picture windows. With the dark, she excused herself. Taking the dishes with her, she set about cleaning up the kitchen. The last thing she did before going off to her room was bring some hot Cocoa and hermit cookies to the group still visiting at the table.

George and Wanda kissed their niece good night, and Rey retreated to her room. Alan Woodward came with her, at least in her mind. What would it be like to work for him? Rey wondered. Would he hold her earlier behavior against her? He sure was nice to look at.


When daylight came the next day, Alan had already been up for three hours. He made an inventory of the renovations he could manage himself, and a preliminary list of supplies he’d need to accomplish them. That took him the better part of the morning. By noon he was on line surfing the internet, searching for suppliers and price lists. Paint and lumber was a simple matter, but tile, wallpaper, bathroom fixtures and roof shingles all had to be shipped onto the island.

The next day, Alan headed out to look up some of the island’s better craftsmen. He had some ideas for some custom work that would take some bartering and dealing.

A little more than 48 hours after discussing the germ of his ideas with the Monroe’s, Alan was sitting down to a quiet and contented supper mulling over a fully fleshed out plan. There were some stray details to take care of, but nothing to warrant any delay getting started.

He would put Rey to work in the bedrooms and bathrooms first. The old wallpaper needed to be stripped away, before plaster and woodwork repairs could begin. After that there were hard wood floors and base boards to strip and sand, old ceramic tiling to take down, linoleum in the old kitchen to take up. Not to mention all the repainting, papering, tiling and finishing that would follow.

The outside work on the clapboards, windows and the roof would be his first projects, until the weather turned cold. When that happened he’d move indoors and tackle the banisters, moldings and plaster repair.

It would be a stretch, but if all went well, the house just might be ready to open for guests again in early May.

“Lets just hope that little fire brand has as much ambition for work, as she does for lip and sass,” Alan chuckled to the kettle on the stove as he lifted it to refill it with water.

The sturdy old enamel surface of the old stove took his attention when Alan turned the switch for the burner, and the flame licked up around the kettle. He wondered how hard it would be to find another workhorse just like this one. A wood burner would add a lot to the quality of the cooking.

With that thought, Alan moved from the kitchen to the large living room. He wondered what the logistics would be for knocking down the wall that divided the dining room from it. Both rooms occupied most of the southeast wall of the house, and enjoyed an expansive almost unobstructed view of Seal Cove harbor and the Bay. Where the wall now stood, splitting twin bay windows, French doors could be set, that would both compliment the windows, and invite guests out to enjoy the view in fair weather. A deck could easily be built out from the house, making the living space seem even larger.

A wood stove on one end would balance the large stone fireplace on the other, and the large room would accommodate guests in small groupings, or in a large assembly. He made a note to check the plans with one of the local builders, and look into the possibilities.


When two days passed after their first meeting, and no word came from Alan about the promised job, Rey began to stew. She told herself, “If he changed his mind and decided to find someone else to help, the least he could have done is call and tell her.”

It was more than that though. Rey was actually anxious to hear from Alan. By mid day the day after the meeting, Rey found herself counting on it. The job, the chance to be near this man who woke up so many confusing feelings in her, all of it had very quickly become something she wanted with everything in her.

That first afternoon she began to pace. The next day, her skin buzzed with anticipation every time the phone rang. The let down each time it wasn’t Alan made her stomach lurch. When it came around to suppertime that evening, she’d become surly.

George noticed her mood during the prep before the meal, and had no patience for it. The guests didn’t need to have to make allowances for a moody hostess. If Rey didn’t cool off in short order on her own, he would take steps to help her along with getting her attitude back on track.

“Something on your mind Rey my girl?” he asked her after she slammed the cutlery drawer shut for the third time in five minutes.

“”No!” Rey’s answer was curt and filled with irritation.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” George warned.

Seeing a storm brewing, Wanda stepped in to try to head it off. “Rey, will you put what you’re doing aside, and go down in the cellar and bring up some blueberries please.”

“There are blueberries in the Frigidaire!” Rey refused the request with a swipe of her hand to point to the fridge, and a petulant stamp of her foot.

“I know there are, I’d like more,” Wanda countered, trying hard not to show her own irritation with Rey’s tone of voice so that she didn’t add any fuel to George’s.

“Why can’t you get them?” Rey sighed, as she put down the cutlery in her hand and trudged toward the cellar door.

Wanda turned to respond with an outright order, but stopped herself when she saw Rey was making her way grudgingly to do as she was asked.

“You mind your sass young lady!” George warned.

Rey made a face in response to him, and muttered epithets as she stomped down the steps into the damp stone cellar. She was almost to the bottom of the steps, when George called after her.

“Close the door behind you! It’s a cold cellar because it’s supposed to be cold!” he hollered.

“In a minute…” Rey called back up. “You ass!” she muttered to herself.

“Now!” George boomed down.

“I’ll be right back up there! Just hold your water!” Rey yelled back, and then kept up a running mutter and mumble with the walls and shelves around her. “Argh! You damned tyrant! What’s five seconds going to do?”

George could hear the low rumble of her muttering through the floor. He shook his head. It had been a good four or five years since she’d behaved this way. Back then the consequence was simple. Now that she was nineteen it wasn’t. She wasn’t too old for it that was certain. No woman was too old to be spanked, as far as George was concerned. He’d just figured she’d grown out of the childish reasons for spanking, and the next stage would be the responsibility of a husband.

“You just keep it up young lady and you’ll have a sorry lesson coming your way,” George spoke to the open cellar doorway.

“Now George, she’s a grown girl with a lot on her mind,” Wanda softly reminded her husband.

“You condoning that kind of sass?” George turned his ire toward his wife.

Wanda smiled. “No dear, just reminding you that everyone’s human, even you.”

George growled, and quietly turned back to the clams he was shucking for the chowder.

Rey came up, and handed a metal bowl with about four cups of blueberries in it. “Is that enough?” she asked.

“That’s perfect honey,” Wanda said, taking the bowl to the sink. “Oh dear! Some of these are getting furry, tomorrow let’s bring them all up for preserves, before we loose much more to mould.”

Rey groaned. She hated canning and preserving with a passion.

“Why don’t you make a nice vinaigrette and fresh herb salad, Rey,” Wanda piped up again, to ward off the inevitable objection Rey would utter.

Rey shrugged, and moved to gather what she’d need to do that. First she collected a large and small bowl, the whisk, the cutting board, the cleaver and a paring knife. Then she went to the pantry and collected olive oil, balsamic vinegar, garlic, salt and pepper. She put all of her supplies onto the counter and turned to the refrigerator.

As she moved back and forth between it and the work surface she was going to use, George stopped what he was doing and watched her. “Look what you’re doing!” he spoke with a scowl.

“What!?” Rey stopped and looked at the counter where her supplies were being assembled.

“First the cellar door, now the cupboard door, the pantry light and the fridge!” he

“What!?” Rey repeated, her fuse was short enough already never mind having her uncle haranguing her over stupid details.

“You’re wasting electricity, and who knows what else letting the heat into places that should be cold!” George bellowed. His exasperation amplified by his perception that she should already know that.

“Oh stop Uncle George! That’s dumb! Any way, you waste things all the time!” Rey countered.

“Don’t you talk back to me like that! You’re not too old to take a walk with me out to the woodshed!” George spoke with icy resolve, as he turned and pointed and shook the wooden spoon he was stirring the chowder with toward her. Chowder splattered on the floor, making both Rey and Wanda laugh.

George was momentarily buffaloed by the women’s laughter. Regrouping his dignity, he reached for a cleaning rag and bent to wipe up the mess. “You tell me one thing I waste around here,” he added as he stood to rinse the rag.

Rey slammed the refrigerator door shut, and tossed a lime onto the cutting board before she answered. She had a retort that was fighting with her better judgment for release. Finally her judgment lost.

“Your breath, old man!” she hissed.

Wanda’s eyes opened wide. There was nothing she could do. The girl was on her own now.

George’s expression turned black, and he seemed to become larger. Rey knew before the words came out that she’d gone too far. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but the raw restless anxiety that had been building in her each day, getting worse each time the phone rang, had taken things out of her control.

“Out you go! Now!” George commanded. He pointed to the door. It was an old ritual between them. It may have been rusty from disuse, but it was familiar and simple enough. The woodshed was only one place that gesture and command ever sent her.

“No Effing way!” Rey refused to obey. Defiance stiffened her stance, and cocked her chin.

George took two steps toward her. Rey backed away, but found herself trapped in the corner between the kitchen counter and the pantry wall. He had the wooden spoon in his hand, and he lifted it and used it to punctuate his words as if it were an extension of his hand.

“You’ll do as I say,” he spoke quietly. “You even think to defy me and you’ll be one sorry little girl.”

“But Uncle George!” Rey sputtered, regret, anger and anxiety surged through her.

“Don’t but me girl! You do as I say!” George reiterated.

“No! You can’t! I’m too old for that!” Rey resisted. She cringed too, because she knew her uncle well. Her age made no difference to him.

“I suppose you’re too old to sass and carry on in here like a 10 year old too?” George growled.

“I didn’t!” Rey grasped for straws that weren’t there.

“Out! Now!” George stepped to the side giving her another chance to obey.

“No! You can’t!” Rey repeated.

“Alright have it your way,” George took her arm, and turned her to face the counter. He pushed her torso down over it.

Wanda stepped in quietly. “George, not here, the guests?”

“Woman do you want some the same treatment too?” was the only acknowledgement he made to his wife’s objection.

Knowing it was useless to argue further, Wanda moved away, and made sure the doors to the kitchen and the adjoining common room were closed. Fortunately the kitchen occupied its own extension off of the main house. The only entrance to it was through the common room, or directly from the gardens outside. For the moment at least, no one was close enough to hear what their host was about to do to his niece.

Rey struggled to get out from under her uncle’s grip without success. “Please Uncle George don’t! I’m too big for this. Please!” she pleaded.

“Too big for your britches is what you are and we‘ll fix that right quick here and now. Won’t we?” he answered her pleas with a solid whap of the spoon to her corduroy trousers.

“Ow!” Rey screeched, as she twisted and tried again to get away.

“Not good enough!” George stated in a matter of fact tone. “Pull those pants down.”

“Aw no!” Rey wailed, and her struggles to get away increased even more.

For a man in his mid sixties, George had surprisingly little trouble controlling the little lady in his grip. George delivered five more very hard whaps before he repeated his order. One of them found the knuckles of Rey’s left hand when it swung back to ward off the spanks. That changed Rey’s yelps and complaints to a howl.

“Stop! No more!” she begged,

“Girl, we haven’t even started yet, and we aren’t going to until you take those trousers down like I told you to,” George explained with a warning chuckle.

“You mother fu…. Ow!” Rey screeched again, as George whapped the tops of her legs several times.

“Use that language again and you’ll be cutting a switch after you chow down on some soap, now do as I say! Pants! Now!” George punctuated the last two words with a pair of spanks that made Rey struggle and twist to get away again.

“Ow! No! Please!” she cried.

Five more bruising whaps followed. “Are you sure you want more after this?” George warned.

“No!” Rey squirmed and tried to push her torso up off the counter.

George began to spank again. This time he kept it up in a steady painful rhythm. Rey wailed and kicked, but was unable to do anything to make the punishment stop.

“You think by now you’d know better girl?” George spoke firmly through the effort of administering solid spanks. “You’ll be black and blue, and your spanking is not even started yet. Seems to me we’ve gone this round far too many times.”

“Please stop!” Rey whimpered.

“You know the drill girl. Nothing’s changed. In the last few years,” George’s tone was hard.

Rey stamped her foot, and let out an exasperated scream. “You’re the meanest old bast…. OW!” George cut off the curse before it came out. Rey’s legs began to tremble from the effort of kicking, and the serious burning pain the spoon was creating on the flesh of her backside.

“OK! OK! I’m doing it! Stop for a minute! Please stop!” Rey pleaded as she reached up under her torso to undo the button and zipper of her trousers. When she got the zipper down, her defiance returned, making her stomp her foot and renew her objection. “You can’t do this to me!”

George was having no more of it. It would soon be time for the guests to start coming into the common room, and this needed to be finished business by then. He tucked the fingers of his left hand under the bands of her trousers and underwear, and yanked them down hard. He pulled them down just far enough to expose her cheeks, and then renewed his hold so she was secure for what remained.

Her backside was mottled with red and pink ovals, and some bruising was already evident. Even so George was adamant that the customary spanking had not yet begun.

“Alright Rey, twenty five for sass, twenty five for cussing, and fifty for defiance. You count the first twenty five and the last ten. Now let’s get this show on the road!” With that George swung the spoon full and hard.

“Oh God! One!” Rey yelped. “Two!” she howled when the next fell.

George showed no mercy with the twenty five she had to count. When that ordeal was complete, the spanking picked up tempo. Rey’s cries and yelps could hardly keep up with spanks. She had forgotten how bad a spanking could be. Finally it came to the last ten which mercifully were over with quickly enough. By then, Rey’s defiance was almost spent.

When her uncle released her, she stood slowly, and tugged her pants back up. She refused to cry, and she refused to let him see that she hurt. A very old and familiar wary dance renewed itself between uncle and niece, guardian and ward. Rey looked at the floor rather than her uncle’s face, and pouted as she moved away from him.

“You had enough?” George asked her. Rey nodded. “Ready to behave now?” Rey nodded again. “Alright then, back to work.”

The evening meal was peaceful. Rey was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. The only thing the guests may have found odd was that George refused Rey’s request to be excused when the meal was over. But if any one noticed, they didn’t comment, and the atmosphere remained pleasant.

The evening progressed quietly. Wanda served cocoa and blueberry compote with fresh scones at about 8 PM, and then the guests began to disburse to card and board games, and the television. Just as Rey was getting up the nerve to ask again to be excused, the phone rang.

Wanda got up to answer it.

“Are you feeling more civilized now my girl?” George asked Rey softly.

Rey nodded, but said nothing.

“What’s got into you? George began to press.

“Rey, it’s Alan Woodward, for you,” Wanda called out from the kitchen.

Rey’s heart leapt into her throat, and then began to pound in her chest. She looked to her uncle for permission to leave the table. George nodded and gestured for her to get up and go to the phone.


“Hello?” Rey spoke into the receiver.

“Hi there,” Alan’s voice came through the line. “Are you still game to work here?”

“I thought you changed your mind. You took long enough,” Rey’s tone was icy.

“There was work to do first, are you game or not?” Alan spoke with an equally cool tone.

“I’ll have to think about it,” Rey answered,

“No problem. Forget it, I’ll put an Ad. in the Whig Standard I’m sure I’ll find someone willing. Nice talking to you brat,” Alan’s answer contained a blend of irritation and amusement.

“No! Wait!” Rey spoke quickly, “Damn him for calling my bluff so soon,” she thought”

“Wait?” Alan asked.

“Maybe I’ll do it,” Rey tried to sound disinterested, so he wouldn’t know how much she wanted the job.

“No that’s OK, I’d rather have someone enthusiastic about things. You have a good night, bye now,” Alan spoke as if he were getting ready to hang up.

“Look I said wait!” Rey raised her voice, and stamped her foot in anger. “I want the job OK. I want the job!”

“You don’t sound like someone who wants a job?” Alan pretended to sound confused.

“I told you I want the job. I don’t say things I don’t mean!” Rey’s voice raised a few octaves, and increased in volume enough that several guests and her uncle looked up to see what was wrong.

Alan began to laugh on the other end of the phone.

“What’s so funny!?” Rey demanded to know.

“You are!” Alan answered honestly. “7AM tomorrow. Dress for dirty work. Alright?” he added quickly.

“7AM!” Rey yelped as if she’d been hit. Several sets of questioning eyes turned her way again.

“7AM,” Alan affirmed.

“Fine!” Rey hissed, lowering her voice. “7AM”

“Oh and Audrey?” Alan spoke with a question.

“Yes?” Rey responded.

“Bring that attitude with you tomorrow, and we’ll be having a come to Jesus discussion between boss and employee right up front. Is that clear?” Alan warned.

Rey could not respond, because the next thing she heard was the click of the receiver followed by the dial tone. Anger boiled up under her collar. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she suddenly caught sight of her uncle’s cool gaze, she might have launched a string of curses into the room.

It took only an hour to tidy the kitchen. Wanda was eager to talk about Rey’s job, but Rey wanted to go to the relative quiet of her room and think.

Rey’s backside throbbed, but instead of discomfort, this time the sensation blended with a new and thrilling electricity that began pulsing through her with the warning Alan issued as he ended their conversation. Again her mind was occupied with thoughts of Alan spanking her. Somehow the very recent memory of how painful that could be escaped her, and the idea became exciting.

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