Satin and Leather

Creative writing around the themes of spanking, domination and submission

No Going Back 7

No Going Back

Chapter Seven

By Patty

Chapter Seven

Rey moved her things into “her” room at The Spray gradually over the course of the next few months, starting with her clothes and books, and eventually bringing her old chests filled with her memories of life before coming to Grand Manan. Montreal and the mainland seemed so far away. Not just in memory, but in proximity to her life now as well. For the moment her life on the island felt safe again, and the pressure to think about any alternative to it was lifted.

The Spray’s opening week went well. All eight guest rooms were occupied, and the guests had only praises for their hosts and the Inn. The Quilters & Knitters Shed saw brisk business, as several of the other Bed and Breakfasts had also begun their season during the holiday week. The weather cooperated for the most part, letting the sun out for four of the seven days, and only dropping a dusting of snow overnight mid week.

The wind off the water was still too cold to make beach combing an attractive activity for all but the most hearty souls, so the hey ride wagons picked up the slack. Rey and Alan worked with a neighbor who had a wagon and draught horses to organize a trip into the bush where the maple sugar works were set up. Steaming hot Cocoa, sandwiches, franks and beans were the lunch fare. Everyone who came along enjoyed the day, and talk about how much fun they had carried over well into the next day.

When the week ended Alan, Rey and Mrs. Beatty were ready for a rest. It would only be four days before they had another weekend with a full house though, and after that if the bookings held, they would have guests more or less continuously until October.

They found a routine, and for the most part the days went smoothly.

Rey was able to get online for several hours every evening. She acknowledged that she wasn’t spending all of her time working on their website, admitting that she did surf to read and visit sites with news and information, and groups that chatted and posted conversations about subjects they had in common. She kept her answers about what the subjects were to vague references about creative writing and short fiction. Alan seemed satisfied with that, and gave her surprising freedom as long as she did have some progress to show on the website, and didn’t let the recreational surfing interfere with her other responsibilities.

Life was good and there were no more signs of Rey’s bad temper and attitude, until the first week of May, when Ellen and Carolyn landed on the island. The two spoiled rich kids were there for the start of their summer break from college. They were spoiled and rich, but they were funny, adventurous, worldly and only a year older than Rey. The camaraderie that developed was immediate. For the first time since high school Rey had girls her own age to talk to. Alan recognized the novelty, and relaxed her work schedule, so that Rey could take the two girls up on invitations to join them as they bobbed around seeing the sights and enjoying the island’s activities.

Ellen and Carolyn’s first week went off without a much trouble, although neither Alan nor Mrs. Beatty were particularly impressed with the slang and affectations Rey seemed to pick up so easily. The first real sign of trouble surfaced on Saturday morning when Rey had to be rousted bodily out of bed to come down for breakfast.

“You’ve been drinking haven’t you?” Mrs. Beatty scolded Rey as she helped her on with her robe. She didn’t let Rey even attempt a lie. “You get in that bathroom and wash up quickly. If Alan finds out, your backside will be blistered for sure. Don’t you dare ever think of doing that gain do you hear me!?”

Groggy and mildly hung over, Rey just grunted and nodded as she allowed Mrs. Beatty to push her into the hallway and then the bathroom.

“Five minutes! No longer,” Mrs. Beatty shook her finger as she turned to look back at Rey from the top step before heading down to the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah, hold your water,” Rey grumbled.

The old woman descended the stairs grumbling about sassy mouthed brats who were picking up bad habits from other sassy mouthed brats.

Alan watched the woman burn off her frustration on inanimate objects around the kitchen. “What’s the deal Bea?”

“Nothing a good dose of that spatula won’t cure,” the old woman answered.

“That bad?” Alan sounded concerned.

“Ach! No, just give her a talking to and she’ll fly right I’m fairly sure,” Bea settled down at the table with toast and coffee for herself, and a cup for Alan.

“Maybe clip I’ll her wings for the day and have her take care of a few jobs need doing around here. That with a warning might help.” Alan accepted the woman’s assessment and agreed to go with it.

Had he known that Rey had been up and out late the night before, drinking shooters and beer down at Fishbinder’s pub with the two college girls, he’d have done more than clip her wings. If Mrs. Beatty had known Rey’s escapade had been public, she might not have kept what she knew to herself.

Rey kept her tongue when Alan issued the warning about her attitude that morning. She was tempted to argue and complain about missing the Whale watch cruise that Ellen and Carolyn had planned for the afternoon, but her head hurt, and the idea of getting on a boat in the state she was in made her feel queasy anyway. The prospect of making Alan decide she might be better off with another spanking had no appeal either. It seemed the hangover had completely incapacitated the snippy inner traitor who normally might have pushed the issue just for the thrill value of a spanking threat or two.

When Rey accepted the chores and restriction with only minor objection, both Alan and Mrs. Beatty smiled, appreciating her cooperative willingness to address the recent slip in her attitude. That compliance and acceptance had nothing to do with it and they were none the wiser gave Rey secret pleasure and reason to sport a smug smile when she was safely back in her room getting dressed.

Beds and dusting in eight guest rooms and Alan’s, four bathrooms and four loads of sheets and miscellaneous laundry took only three and a half hours. By then the aspirin was working, and Rey was back to feeling like herself. The groceries took only another hour, and then the rest of the day was hers until supper. It was nice and quiet and she found she had the breezy great room to herself.

“Perfect!” she thought. “Maybe I can do some reading online.”

She’d spent so much of her free time with Ellen and Carolyn, it had been a week since she’d been able to log in to the spanking sites, so there was a lot to read and catch up on. The stories and pictures worked with the scolding she got that morning to wake up the inner traitor. At one point Rey grinned to herself, and actually entertained a fantasy of finding Alan and provoking him to spank. She knew she wouldn’t do it, but the seduction teased her mind anyway.

One on line story in particular about a teaching assistant, who ended up trapped on a mountain, in a farmhouse, during an ice storm, with an attractive uncompromising man and his two children, pushed all of Rey’s buttons. Even the description of the man in the story brought Alan’s image to her mind. There were only a couple of chapters posted yet, but all of them were almost perfect fodder for Rey’s fantasies, so she printed them to take back to her room and read again later. The color printer-scanner-copier had arrived too, so Rey swallowed her fear of discovery, and printed a few of the sexier spanking photographs she found on the free galleries.

Her surfing that afternoon had been the most extensive and daring yet, and Rey almost missed her chance to erase and delete her trail before Mrs. Beatty started bustling around with supper preparations, and Alan came in and rousted Rey to help. As it was, she just barely shuffled the pages of pictures and stories under the pages of screen captures of the scanned quilt and sweater pictures she’d printed, before Alan parked himself behind her to peer at the work she’d done on the site.

Her heart pounded with guilty nervous energy.

“Get much done?” he asked.

“Naw, surfed and read for fun mostly, but I got some new quilts up in the thumbnail gallery. Want to see?” she had trouble swallowing against the guilty cotton at the back of her throat.

“Sure,” Alan pulled a chair over beside her. He reached for the pages she had stacked by the keyboard, and almost had them, when Rey pulled them away.

“No, they look best on line see,” she redirected his attention.

Alan didn’t seem to notice Rey’s nervous agitation. He just watched her click through the links and viewed the new images as she displayed them for him. What he saw was enough for him to pat her on the back and compliment the work.

Later in her room, Rey’s anxiety about almost being caught with spanking pictures and stories made her reel. She would have to be more careful. “Who knows what he’d do if he found out about this stuff!” He spanked her and all, but she was fairly sure he’d think she was sick if he knew the effect thinking about it had on her.

All of the guests made it back to The Spray for supper that evening, so the serving and clean up took a little longer than usual. When Rey was just finishing up, Carolyn cornered her and invited her out again that evening. Rey was fairly sure that Alan would say no to her going out with the girls again. She debated declining the invitation, but her new friend quickly headed off all hints of better judgment with cajoling and coaxing, promises and taunts. In the end, Rey reasoned that she was an adult, and boss or not, Alan really couldn’t say what she was allowed to do on her free time. All he told her that morning was he wanted her attitude to get back in check, and she had done all the extra chores he assigned after all.

To avoid any direct questions from Alan, Rey suggested that Carolyn and Ellen leave together now, and that she would catch up with them in twenty minutes or so when she got the last of her chores done. There were no more chores to do, but Rey needed the excuse to get them to leave without her, and not telegraph that going with them was something she was going to keep secret. The last thing Rey wanted was to have the two worldly girls think she was a kid who had to get permission to come and go.

It worked. As the Inn and her guests relaxed into a quiet evening, Rey made her excuses and asked permission to turn in for the night. Alan smiled and accepted her goodnight. It was easy enough to sneak past Mrs. Beatty in the kitchen. So, dressed to kill in tight new jeans a silk blouse and red leather vest, Rey skipped out onto the road, and started the walk to Fishbinder’s. The night air was cool and fresh, but best of all was the huge bright full moon that was just beginning to rise over the Bay.

This would be a great night for beach combing and clamming, she though. Then her mind wandered over what she remembered of the tide forecast. It would be low tide by midnight. “And it’s a spring tide!” she thought. “Perfect!” The idea that formed would give her another chance to show off her island prowess and sense of adventure to the rich city girls.

Ellen was hard to convince, but Carolyn was instantly game. Several beers and shooters later, and Ellen’s mind was changed.

“Let’s go!” Rey giggled, feeling the alcohol and every ounce of the dis-inhibition it produced.

It was easy enough to hitch a ride up the road to Grand Harbour. Getting back well after midnight might be harder, but Rey decided it wasn’t worth worrying about. A cab was always and option even if it would cost nearly ten dollars. When they reached the harbor’s shore, and stepped out onto the glistening red sand beach, Ellen and Carolyn expressed concern. “Are you sure?”

“I promise! Look!” Rey pointed out over the expanse of exposed sea floor. “The bottom is exposed all the way across and it’ll be like this for four hours. Come on! This is the best beach combing possible.” Rey coaxed.

Giggling, the three started out on their hike across the exposed sea floor. Their goal, to walk the mile over to Ross Island; cross it, and continue the next three quarters of a mile to Cheney Island; check out the old buildings there, and then cross the last mile to White Head Island; where they could have one more drink before heading back. Their intent was to make the whole trip, there and back, on foot across the exposed floor of the Bay of Fundy.

Bay of Fundy tides were legendary, but Spring tide was a particular novelty around Grand Manan. Miles and miles of the sea floor were bared at the full ebb of low tide. Full moon nights were particularly magical, because the moon light made the seaweed and tide pools glisten and reflect into the night so that lamps and lanterns were unnecessary.

The tide would not forgive an errant hiker though. Timing the trek was important, because when the tide returned, the funnel shape of the Bay between Nova Scotia and the Maine coast created a tidal bore that swept up to Saint Johns harbor in the north in a huge wave. The famous reversing falls near the mouth of the Saint Johns River were a product of this natural force. The island’s history and its legends and lore spoke of many luckless beachcombers who were washed away by the return tide.

Rey knew the legends, and she knew the facts. If they kept to the plan, there was nothing but some novelty and a good time to be had. The trio certainly did have fun. The old Lighthouse on Cheney Island and the abandoned barn kept their interest for a little longer than Rey planned, but it was worth it. Rey thrilled her companions with stories about modern day pirates and rum smugglers from the time of prohibition using the islands as way stations for alcohol on it’s way from Nova Scotia to Maine. Then the girls spooked each other making up a story of a pirate still living in the lighthouse watching and waiting for foolish women to venture onto the island on a night such as this.

Two other stories also intrigued them, and had them making plans for boat trips in the coming week. One was the lost love and sad ghost tale associated with outer Wood Island. The other was the abandoned farm on Long Island further north where there was a man hating bull that guarded a lone female moose that had somehow swum out and found herself trapped there. The raspberries and blackberries would be just coming into season there by now, and women were the only people who could safely reap the harvest.

The beer on tap at White Head Tavern tasted great to the three thirsty girls. Rey had a few nervous moments when the barkeep asked her for proof of age, but he was quickly distracted by Carolyn’s sweet college girl act.

“She lost her wallet this afternoon to a pick pocket on the Whale watching boat!” The barkeep joined in with their good natured kibitz about the dangers of being too trusting.

Rey simply smiled, and appreciated the older girl’s poise. No way would she have tried to get away with a lie like that at Fishbinder’s. But then the barkeep there hadn’t even bothered to ask for ID. Not a one of the regulars, who knew her well, even had a question about her being there either. One thing was certain, and that was, there’d have been no way she’d have even considered going drinking if she were still living with her Uncle. Rey figured that Alan probably wouldn’t like it if he knew she was out drinking, but he was only her boss on the job, not her keeper after hours, and at moments like this, when it suited her outlook, his rules only applied to her behavior on the job. Besides, she’d heard the stories of why he left the island, and she knew that he too had been guilty of drinking when he was her age.

The girls laughed and enjoyed the teasing company of some of the crustier pub regulars. Their one round of drinks became two. It took the chime of an old cuckoo clock to remind Rey that they had a schedule to keep.

“We’re going to have to mush kids, or we’ll miss the tide,” she giggled. Her companions giggled too, and they set out to make the return trip.

Halfway across the flats to Cheney Island, Ellen ripped her jeans trying to fit a large Conch shell into the pocket. That started a minor tiff when neither Carolyn nor Rey would donate their intact pockets for it. The effects of the alcohol and the novelty of the cool evening out on the sea floor further distracted them from the time constraints. Chasing each other in a game of ‘tuck-the-Conch-in-the-best-pocket’ took up the last of their window.

Rey was first to notice the waves and rivulets start to rush through the tide pools at their feet.

“Oh shit!” she yelped looking up and around them. “Come on you guys we have to run!” They had another thousand feet or so to cross before they would reach Cheney Island, and the water had already risen to cover part of the flats they had to cross. Rey estimated they had maybe ten minutes before the rip of the tidal bore would make crossing even a two-foot deep expanse of water impossible.

Carolyn and Ellen took a few seconds to realize that Rey was serious, but they did catch on and move to keep up with her.

“Come on!” Rey reiterated when Ellen slowed and began huffing. “It’ll rip through here in a minute! Come on!”

“Cut it out Rey! You’re scaring us!” Carolyn stopped and refused to budge.

“You better be scared, look!” Rey pointed behind them. Both of her companions obeyed the gesture and looked around. Most of the sea floor was completely covered, and there was a visible swirling current pushing north.

“Oh God!” Carolyn cried.

“Just run OK! You can scream and carry on when we get on shore!” Urgency and fear moved all three of them. They made it to shore, but not before the ripping tide took their footing a couple of times.

“God Damn it Rey! Look at us! We’re soaking wet!” Ellen hissed and stamped her feet when she made it up onto the grassy Cheney island shore.

“Oh shut up!” Both Carolyn and Rey hissed back.

“At least you’re alive!” Rey added.

“Can we get the rest of the way home now?” Carolyn started walking toward the other side of the island.

“No,” Rey answered. “Not on foot.”

“Is there a boat?” Ellen whined.

“No,” Rey answered. “Even if there was, we’d still be stuck here. The tide would carry us half way to Saint Johns if we tried to row now.”

“What are we going to do!?” Ellen wailed. “I’m cold and wet.”

“Let’s go to the light house, OK? Maybe we can find something and make a fire or at least get in out of the wind.” Rey offered.

All of the giggle effects of alcohol were reversed by the drama of their situation. The same old spooky lighthouse that had been great fun to explore and joke about on the trip out was now a very uninviting refuge.

Ellen gave voice to the changed perspective. “What if there are spiders and snakes in there?”

Carolyn huffed and groused. “Hah! I’m more worried about two legged creatures!”

“Cut it out you two! There aren’t any people here. Just us. And the spiders and snakes are harmless. They’re more scared of us anyway,” Rey was trying not to get too wrapped up in worry, but her efforts were failing.

They would be missed by morning. But the chances were good no one would even think of looking for them out here. Not unless Alan or Uncle George went around asking and traced her steps. “Oh man!” she moaned to herself. She wasn’t sure what would be worse waiting the 18 or so hours for the tide to go back out, or having her Uncle or even Alan figure out what she’d gotten up to. No matter what, she knew she’d have to face one or both of them eventually, and she knew the outcome wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Carolyn and Ellen huddled on a bench inside the main building, while Rey rummaged for something to light a fire. She found an old lantern with a small reserve of kerosene in it, but nothing to light it with.

“Do either of you have matches?” she asked, interrupting the crying and complaining her spoiled companions were doing.

“Yeah!” Carolyn volunteered. She pulled a soggy folded matchbook from the White Head Tavern out of her pocket and handed it to Rey.

“Damn!” Rey hissed. “These are no good! They’re all wet!”

“Well, I can’t help it,” Carolyn whimpered. “I’m wet. So are you! It’s not my fault!”

“I know, I’m sorry. Just don’t cry OK. It’ll be OK. I’ll figure something out,” Rey tried to be reassuring.

“How long before someone comes for us?” Ellen asked.

“Who knows?” Rey answered, distracted by her hunt for something to light a fire with. “Probably not before morning.”

While it wasn’t really a surprise to her, hearing the words made it real, and Ellen curled up into a ball of tears. Carolyn tried to console her. Rey just sighed. She tried to keep herself occupied. Several minutes of hunting through the old cupboards and drawers yielded a promising find.

A rusting stove lighter was tucked away in the back of what was the pantry. Squeezing it a few times, Rey was at first disappointed that the only result was an unsatisfactory flaking grate of flint on rusted metal. But several rapid compressions later, and she smile. The rust flaked away enough to expose the flint to enough iron to spark.

“OK! Great! I found something. Lets get some wood OK!” she announced with some excitement.

“You do it!” Carolyn objected.

“Come on! Help me and we can get warm faster,” Rey moved toward them and tugged up on their damp jackets.

“It isn’t going to work anyway,” Ellen complained. “Just sit down and cut it out.”

“It will! Look!” Rey demonstrated the spark.

“That’s not going to light wood on fire!” Carolyn snarled.

“It will with this!” Rey shook the kerosene reservoir. “Come on! Get up and get moving!”

The girls relented, and set out to collect wood for a fire. Rey did too, venturing further from the building than her companions. She came back to find they’d dropped their pile inside the main room of the lighthouse.

“Bring it out here you guys!” she instructed, holding back her frustration with the two. “We can’t light a fire in there, we’ll burn the building.”

“Use the stove!” Carolyn pointed to the old wood stove in the corner.

“No! there’ll be nests and all kinds to things in the flue. If we try burning in that we’ll end up smoked out or worse,” Rey reasoned. “Come on! God Damn it you two! Do I have to do everything!?”

That complaint ignited Carolyn’s temper.

“You bitch!” she hissed, throwing wood out the door and onto the ground near Rey’s feet. “We wouldn’t be stuck here if it wasn’t for you!”

Rey grimaced, but didn’t answer. Instead, she started pulling grass, and preparing a bed to lay the fire.

“Cut it out Carolyn,” a subdued Ellen moved to help with the fire. “We wanted to come out here, and we fooled around as much as Rey did.”

Silence replaced the complaining, and within twenty minutes, they had hauled a bench out, and rolled two large flat stones over, so that they could huddle together next to the fire with the bench for a back support, and the stones for seats.

“Maybe someone will see the fire?” Ellen said hopefully.

Rey nodded and smiled. The moon was settled low in the western sky now, so the only real light was the fire.

“What time is it?” Carolyn tugged Ellen’s wrist toward the fire to check on the time. “Shit! It’s only 2:10!”

Ellen started to laugh. “What? Past your bedtime?”

“Shut up!” Carolyn laughed too. “It is past Rey’s though! Bet old Alan has a thing or two to say when she gets home.”

Rey looked up and examined her friend’s expression. “What?” her question conveyed both surprise and discomfort.

Carolyn just grinned with the smug expression of someone who thinks she knows a secret.

Rey growled. “What do you know about it?”

“Why? What? You mean he’ll really be mad?” Ellen was confused. “He won’t fire you will he?”

Rey hadn’t really considered that possibility, and doing so now sent a pulse of worry through her that was much worse than what she’d felt when she thought of Alan involving Uncle George in looking for her.

“He won’t.” Carolyn grinned. “He’s got the hots for her.”

Rey looked at her. “What makes you say that?” The idea that a relative stranger might have reason to think that intrigued Rey.

“I see how he looks at you and talks to you. He likes you a lot.” Carolyn’s answer was matter of fact.

“He’s my boss.” Rey dismissed her comment.

“I sure wouldn’t want him mad at me,” Ellen shifted the tack.

“Me neither,” Rey agreed, nodding her head but keeping her real knowledge of that consequence to herself. “Can’t be helped now though.”

“We won’t let him fire you,” Ellen reassured. “We’ll tell him we made you come with us. We’ll even say you tried to talk us out of it.”

Rey smiled. There’d be no way Alan would buy that. Only an islander would know how to get a midnight trek across the flats accomplished. He might believe they could have come up with the idea to go, but he’d know that she would have had to take care of the nuts and bolts of getting up to Grand Harbour, and then getting down onto the flats at narrowest point. Her thoughts inevitably turned to the probable chain of events that would follow when it was discovered they were missing; that changed Rey’s smile to a grimace.

“Man o man!” she whispered with an involuntary shudder.

“What?” Carolyn asked.

“Naw nothing,” Rey shook off the images.

“Out with it! What?” both Carolyn and Ellen chorused.

“I was just thinking about the commotion when they can’t find us in a few hours. That’s all,” she grimaced.

“Ugly huh?” Carolyn nodded. “I’m glad my folks aren’t here. There’d be hell to pay. Here’s hoping they never find out!”

“Mine too,” Ellen agreed. “They’d skin me.”

“Oh Gawd!” Rey winced. The pulse of electric anticipation of their inevitable rescue, or return, escaped her with a whine.

“Oh come on really? They won’t be that hard on you will they? We’re safe and alive after all.”

“I don’t know!” Rey lied. “I don’t want to think about it!”

“Come on Rey? How bad can it be? So they’ll yell a little,” Carolyn reasoned. “OK, so even if they yell a lot, it’ll be over before you know it, and we’ll be off to the Raspberry Island.”

“For you maybe. I’ll be lucky if I ever sit again,” Rey sighed. She had not intended to say the last part out loud.

“No way!” Carolyn seized on Rey’s accidental comment, which made Rey instantly sorry she’d spoken.

All Rey could do was shrug. Her traitor had surfaced, and was suddenly relishing her host’s instant discomfort.

“He wouldn’t!?” Carolyn gasped. “Are you serious? He’ll spank you?” Carolyn was fascinated.

Rey closed her eyes, shaking her head to try and escape from the uncomfortable and arousing mixture embarrassment, anticipation and worry. “Just stop OK!” she pleaded after a few seconds. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Kinky,” Carolyn spoke the word with a lilting teasing singsong.

Rey had to get up and pace. The sensations surging and pulsing through her body made her restless.

“You’re serious aren’t you?” Ellen asked, feeling empathy for Rey. “He really will spank you won’t he.”

Rey’s whole body was suffused with the flames of a blush that could have heated a small room. She just nodded back to her friend.

“Jeez Rey,” Ellen soothed. “Maybe we could talk him out of it?”

“No, just leave it alone OK. He’ll be mad enough without thinking I put you up to getting me off,” Rey sighed. “Can we please change the subject?”

The two girls chuckled and agreed.

By the time dawn broke, the fire was doing little to keep them warm. Huddling helped some, but the dampness of their clothing wicked the cool straight to their skin. The activity of the birds and gulls with the daylight, spurred Rey to activity too.

“Let’s get up and move around a little. It’ll help us warm up,” she suggested.

“You can if you want to, I’m staying here,” Carolyn answered. Ellen stood with Rey, feeling all of the kinks that came with being cold and having had no sleep. The running and horseplay of the previous evening along with the thickness left over from all the beer and shooter’s they’d consumed only added to their discomfort.

“How can I be hung over when I haven’t even been to bed yet?” Ellen complained. Her voice sounded as though she were just waking up, and her mouth tasted the same way.

The activity worked to warm them, and then the beauty of the sunrise captured their attention. Ellen and Rey returned to the fire site to find Carolyn poking absently at the last of the coals and embers. The sun was fully up now, and had begun to warm everything.

“I’m starving,” Carolyn whined. “Who’s got candy?”

“Hey good idea!” Ellen agreed, and she tugged and pulled at the contents of her fanny pack. “Two Snickers!” she announced proudly. “Not even wet!”

Rey had Wrigley’s Juicy fruit gum and a roll of Mentos. Carolyn had Chicklets and cinnamon Tick Tacs.

They laughed and sat down to consume their small buffet.

“Should we save some incase it takes them a while to find us?”

Ellen asked. Both of the other two girls considered the question, and looked out over the Bay toward Ross Island. There was no activity on the water.

They all shrugged. The question went unanswered, and all but the gum was polished off.

The warmth of the sun and the small amount of food, such as it was, helped them relax. Before long they made their way up onto the sunny weathered old porch of the lighthouse, and stretched out to rest. Sleep took them easily.


“Here! They’re here!” the booming sound of an excited male voice disturbed the girl’s sleep.

“Saints be praised ye ain’t dead!” came a follow up intrusion.

“She’s going to wish she were!” Rey was first to become fully aware that they had been found. Alan’s hard grasp on her arm went a long way to speeding her arrival at that awareness. He had her on her feet, and had landed four stinging spanks to the seat of her jeans almost before the other two started to sit up.

“Ow! Don’t! There’s people,” Rey complained, and twisted herself around away from his hand.

Alan let her go. “Just you wait till you get home!” he warned, and then his expression seemed to melt. “Damn it Rey! We thought you’d drowned!” He caught her again, and pulled her to him into an almost frantic bear hug. Rey leaned into him, comforted by the feel of him and warmed by the emotion. When he pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, it was her turn to melt under his gaze. What she saw in his eyes made her feel weak, and it made her want to stretch up and kiss him.

The exchange between them was only momentary, but for Rey time seemed to stand still. Alan hugged her to him again, and then released her with another hard spank. “Remember that!” he promised. “We’ll be having a long talk about this.”

He turned his attention to the other two girls. “How are you two holding up? You going to be in one piece by the time you get home?”

“OK,” they answered in unison.

“Yes Sir,” Ellen spoke to the second question.

“Let’s get you back on shore. No sense hanging out here any longer than need be,” Alan instructed.

It took just over an hour to make the boat ride back to Seal Cove harbor. Alan scolded and lectured them for part of the trip, but most of it was made in tired, relieved silence. Mr. McNealy, the owner of the boat, dropped them at the foot of the bluffs below The Spray.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em ‘ey buy,” the old man chuckled, accepting a ten-dollar bill from Alan with a handshake. Alan laughed and answered with something that none of the girls could hear. The old man let out a belly laugh, and pushed his boat back out on the water.

Mrs. Beatty hugged and then shook Rey when they all tromped into the kitchen. Alan broke up the reunion after a minute or so, telling Rey to go on up to her room and stay there until he called her. Rey wanted to object, but knew she’d better not press her luck. She obeyed.

Alan turned his attention to his young guests. There wasn’t much he could do to punish them, but he made sure they knew how foolish they had been before he let them return to their room. Ellen ended up in tears, apologizing almost immediately. Although initially defiant, Carolyn eventually agreed with what he had to say and offered what would have to pass for an apology. Alan was more surprised than either girl was, that they accepted his suggestion that it might be wise for them to “stay in” for the rest of the day and the evening, so they could “reflect” on what could have happened.


Rey cooled her heels and worried away the whole afternoon and part of the evening in her room. She listened to every sound fearing and hoping it was Alan climbing the stairs. Her groin and bottom tingled. She knew there was no way she was going to get off without a serious spanking. The prospect made pushed her through a series of emotions. Shame, excitement, fear, regret and sexy anticipation all grappled for the top of what she was feeling.

After the first few hours, she resigned herself to the probability that he was going to wait until after dinner before dealing with her. That upset her a little, because most of the guests would be in the house by then. “Oh gawd! Just let me get through it OK?” she whined to her mirror.

She couldn’t relax enough to sleep. Nothing appealed to her on her bookshelves. The view from her window couldn’t hold her attention either. Raw restless nervous energy made her pace. She wished she had a computer in her room. That thought occupied her mind briefly, as she contemplated asking for one if they had a good season. She could buy one herself with the money she was earning she reasoned. The logistics of getting Alan to run a phone line up there, and the imagined conversations to justify the idea all helped to consume almost a half an hour of the lonely afternoon. Eventually thoughts of her own computer brought her to thoughts of the spanking sites, and then back to her predicament.

“Maybe I should write a spanking story for the Woodshed?” she thought. “I could write this episode up. No one would ever know it was real life either? Heck! No one would believe it was real!” Then she cringed thinking about just the idea that anyone on earth might know it wasn’t just a story, and that spanking thrilled her the way it did. Rey might not have it in her to write her own stories, but she could read them. That thought solved the problem of what to do with the rest of her afternoon.

Lifting her mattress, Rey slid the dog-eared illicit pages out so she could read them again. She discovered that even spanking stories were hard to concentrate on when a real one was looming. Every scolding, and all of the described anticipation made her grimace; took her eyes and her mind away from the pages and made her loose her place. By dusk she’d given up trying to read, and settled on letting her mind wander occasionally using the spanking photographs she’d printed for something to focus on.

No matter how painful and embarrassing she knew it was going to be, Rey’s mind drifted to the spanking that was coming, and zeroed in on the intimate details. The traitor was in complete control of her now. She was going to get a real spanking. The crime was already committed. There was no arguing with reason to prevent it. Soon her right hand probed to answer the sexy anxiety that was building. Masturbation and fantasy worked wonders to help Rey corral and at least direct her restless energy.

The sexy distraction produced a quieter anxiety within her though. In her fantasy Alan scolded her. He pulled her over his knee, and spanked her. His hard determined fantasy spanks were felt on her living flesh as ghostly thrilling tingles.

Then her pants came down. Here she backtracked and replayed the scene a few different ways. In one Alan scolded while she stood before him humbled to bare her own bottom. In another he pulled them down roughly himself, angered because she defied and refused to do it herself. In the best one, he did it slowly while she was prone over his knee. First her jeans so that he spanked her panties until she wiggled and complained, and his scolding got him nowhere. Forced to take down her panties to get through to her, he met her protests with sterner scolding and deaf ears.

In her fantasy spanking Alan loved her. She was his naughty wife. Just like the women in the stories. When Rey climaxed to the blended efforts of her wandering mind, hand and fingers, Alan’s fantasy hand probed where her real one did. And in the aftermath of imagined tears and sexy resolution, Alan kissed her tears away, and then made love to her.

The anxiety left behind by the wish and desire became a pulsing ache that seemed to rest both in her chest and her groin.

“Please God, let me have him,” Rey whispered into her pillow as her thighs squeezed tightly against the dull ache.



Website Builder