part0041

The array of possibilities spread before me was tantalizing. So many options. I could make her do virtually anything I wanted her to, as long as it was within her limits.

Limits. I’d need to read her file as soon as possible so that I knew all the important details, like whether she had a latex allergy or a phobia of clowns. I was already planning out her private tuition for this afternoon. I wondered whether her bottom was trained or not. Either way, I was going to have fun finding out.

At lunch, she stayed with me in a manner which was almost clingy. But it was sexy and cute. The behavior seemed to fit her perfectly. Just like her uniform did. Aside from one minor detail which I didn’t like. Her skirt was too long. I would insist she remedy that when we started our ‘tuition’ after lunch.

She was mine now, and unless sexual contact was off the table, I planned to do things a little differently than Mr. Collins.

I got a big bowl of delicious-smelling fusilli aglio-olio, added some healthy chunks of chicken, broccoli and steamed carrots, and sat down with it all. I was going to need the energy for all the things I intended to do.

She perched timidly next to me, and I realized she was nervous. I eyed her food.

“Pizza. Go back and get two servings of vegetables.”

“Yes, sir.” She hopped up and I watched her hurry to the vegetables, where she quickly put some on her plate before returning. Carrots and cherry tomatoes. The sort of vegetables that children didn’t find repulsive. Tonight, I’d ensure there was broccoli on her plate when she sat down, and that it was eaten before she was allowed to leave the table. I wasn’t sure if the concept of ‘five a day’ had made it across the Atlantic, but decided that while she was under my care, it was my responsibility to ensure she ate well.

She was wiggling in her seat and only picking at her food. After several seconds, she finally asked, “May I go to the bathroom, sir?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

She hopped up, and it amused me a little to know that her caned rear was still burning. Watching her hurry to the nearest toilet was mildly entertaining, because she really had been quite naughty.

However, when she returned, she looked much more composed. Sitting down again, she winced a little, but then she settled quite readily. Immediately, I knew she’d done something to ease the pain in her bottom, and I intended to investigate that further after lunch.

In the meantime, I decided to bring the conversation back to her food choices.

“Do you eat like that on a normal day?” I asked.

“I guess so, sir.”

“You don’t know?”

“I never really thought about it. I’m usually so busy, sir, I just eat whatever’s easy to get.”

I studied her for a moment, feeling a little saddened that she wasn’t taking better care of herself.

“Don’t tell me,” she began, looking over my plate. “You actually eat your vegetables at every meal, don’t you?”

“Is that ever a bad thing?” I raised a brow. The movement was a little undermined by the fact I’d just put a big floret of broccoli into my mouth and was trying to chew it at the same time as giving Ella a questioning look.

“Yeah. You’re missing out on all the fun stuff,” she countered. “Sometimes it’s good to just devour an entire pepperoni special with extra cheese, without worrying about balancing it with something healthy.”

“Hardly.” I ate another piece of broccoli, almost out of defiance.

“Don’t you ever just want to let yourself go a little? Eat the fun stuff? Screw the rules?”

“Watch your language, young lady. And, no, I’m perfectly happy eating broccoli.” I tried to put on a Southern Belle accent and pretended to run a hand through invisible long, flowing tresses. “It maykes mah hair so shiny.”

Ella giggled and shook her head. “Worst accent ever. You could probably offend someone doing that.”

“Have you ever heard an American trying to be British? If I don’t get offended, they shouldn’t, either.” I laughed and shrugged.

I realized we’d fallen out of our roles, somewhat, and tumbled into talking like two people on a date. When did I last go on a date? I couldn’t remember. But it felt nice to just banter with someone who wasn’t afraid of speaking to me.

Maybe if she found out who I was, things would change, but for the moment, I contented myself with the feeling that Ella and I were… what was the American phrase? Hitting it off.

However, I was resolved that we would resume our strict roles just as soon as lunch was over. We were both here to live out our fantasies, and perhaps I should have put a stop to her conversation, but I liked hearing her talk. And seeing her face without an expression of mild defiance, for a change.

“Bend over your desk, I need to inspect your cane marks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Idris was back in charge again. The change reminded me of church trips when I’d been younger, where the pastor had talked to all of us kids as he drove the minibus, and he’d seemed less authoritative for a brief time. Back at church, he would switch back into being the strict man responsible for our spiritual wellbeing. It was a smooth transition that didn’t make him seem less in charge, and I guessed that was why this felt similar.

I bent over the desk, knowing what Idris was going to find. I’d been to the bathroom in the middle of lunch and put wet paper towels on my butt, soothing the pain, before carefully patting it all dry and covering the whole mess of welts in lotion.

He flipped back my skirt and looked at my well-moisturized, caned ass. When he ran his fingers over the still-slightly-sore skin, I inhaled sharply. The only thing I could think about was how much I wished he’d touch me all over my body.

“Young lady, what were you explicitly told in Mr. Collins’s office?”

I sighed. “Not to rub, or put cold water or lotion on, sir.”

“Am I looking at a bottom which has neither been soothed nor slathered in lotion?”

“No, sir.” I was totally busted. Again.

“You were given a direct instruction and you disobeyed it at your first opportunity.”

I wondered if I’d meant to. It would be pretty apparent to any experienced Dom that I’d done something to mitigate the effects of my punishment. Was I… testing him? Pushing the boundaries in the hope that he would notice?

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry,” I said automatically. But, was I? I didn’t feel sorry. If anything, I felt thrilled that he’d been paying enough attention to see what I’d done.

“Insincere apologies, in my book, are almost as bad as outright lying.” His words cut into me. I felt like I was wearing a thin piece of gauze and he could see straight through it. He seemed to know everything I thought and felt.

“It was only half insincere, sir,” I countered.

He outright laughed. “I’ll give you this, you’re a tenacious young lady, even if you’re a terrible liar. Your bottom will not be able to take more caning right now, so instead, I’m going to punish you slightly differently. First, are you left-handed?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

“Stand up and hold out your left hand.” He walked to the teacher’s desk while I straightened up. I was afraid of finding out what he’d thought of as a punishment.

When he returned with a cane, I visibly took a step back and widened my eyes. For some reason, the idea of it landing across my hand was way worse than feeling it on my bottom. My hand was thin and less padded. And worst of all, I’d have to watch the cane moving down, and stay still until it landed. I was going to be fighting my reflexes the whole time.

“Palm up,” he corrected, turning my hand over.

Unable to look away, I watched him tap the cane against the palm of my hand. I wanted to close my eyes and hide my face until it was over, but some morbid fascination compelled me to keep looking.

“Please, sir, I’ll never do it again. I swear.”

“This isn’t for what you intend to do in the future, young lady; it’s for what you’ve already done.”

My core clenched when he said that. I was scared, but there was something else going on, too. Beneath the surface, I felt like he was completely in control and paying full attention to everything I did.

He raised the cane and I pressed my lips together to stop myself whimpering. My eyes narrowed to a squint as the cane began to flick back down, turning invisible as it moved, until it collided with my palm with a muted whop noise. The immediate pain was startling, and my knees innately bent, my body twisting away while I tried and failed to stay in place. The stinging burn exploded and clung to my skin viciously.

“Get back into position or there will be extras.”

Extras? How many of these was he going to do?

I shook as I straightened up, and I had to use my right hand to hold out my left hand, because it just wouldn’t stay put by itself.

“Do not move.” His tone was dispassionate, and I wondered if he felt the crackle of electricity between us as I stood before him, submitting to this punishment, trusting him not to cause any real damage with a wooden stick that broke the sound barrier before it chargrilled my hand again.

“OWWW!” I cried, as the cane landed a second time. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, owww! ”

“Sir,” he corrected. I looked up through eye-watering pain as I felt the second line searing across the first, making a cross-shape. “That’s ‘owww, sir’ .”

I said nothing, because I didn’t trust myself and an f-bomb was on the tip of my tongue.

“Last one,” he told me.

Not wanting to go through this again, even if this punishment was nearly over, I made myself obey. Water already lined my eyes and I gripped my hand tightly, as if that would make it easier to bear this.

“Don’t tense. You’re almost there,” he encouraged. I nodded and tried to relax my body.

He tapped the cane to line it up again, and the pain when it touched my punished hand was enough to make me hiss through my teeth.

This was going to be bad. There was no way that huge cane could land on my hand without catching both of the other strokes.

He raised it, and I was already crying before it hit. When the tip made contact, straight across the first two welts, I howled and stamped one of my feet.

“What do you say?” he prompted.

The pain was running all the way up my arm, fizzing and burning like angry bees had gotten inside me. I didn’t feel very grateful. But I knew the rules.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go and stand in the corner, nose and toes against this wall.”

Dejected, I trudged to the place he’d indicated. I began to raise my hands above my head, knowing it was going to hurt like hell when my fingers interlocked and my palm had to touch my head.

I sniffled as I leaned forward to get my nose against the wall, and by the time my elbows were high enough, I was quietly sobbing.

Someone entered the room, spoke in a low tone with Idris, then left again. I didn’t care enough to look over my shoulder.

What had I expected him to do when he’d discovered how I’d soothed my caned ass? I thought about it and realized I hadn’t gotten that far ahead when I’d gone to the bathroom. I’d half-hoped he would notice, just because I wanted him to notice everything, but at the same time, I hadn’t really thought he would be paying enough attention.

I’d seriously believed I would get away with it.

He was closely following everything I did, and he had the time and inclination to follow up, too. Although I felt thoroughly chastised, and the pain in my hand meant I wouldn’t be driving or rowing a boat any time soon, there was a deep sense of satisfaction in my heart.

He knew what I needed. He wouldn’t let me fall.

And yet, at the same time, the contentment was tinged with an edge of pain. He could notice everything about me, but when this weekend was over, we wouldn’t see each other again.

Thinking about that made my chest tighten until it was hard to breathe. I’d never felt like this about anyone I’d played with. Scratch that, I’d never felt like this about anyone before. None of the men my mom kept trying to match me with, for sure. I wasn’t sure I could take saying goodbye to Idris, and it seemed so ridiculous, since we barely knew each other.

“Come and stand before the desk,” he commanded from nearby.

I put my hands by my sides and turned around. Still feeling emotional, I walked over until I stood in front of him. He sat at the teacher’s desk like he owned the place.

His fingers were steepled and he was looking thoughtfully at some papers on the desk.

“You like nature.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir.” But how did he know?

“Mr. Collins has kindly furnished me with your previous assignments, and I’ve now had the chance to catch up on your other information, too.”

Oh. I didn’t know what to say, but apparently, I didn’t need to say anything because he continued.

“You often write about trees, bugs, plants and animals. Your creative work tends to always be set in a forest.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you spend much time in the great outdoors?”

I sighed. My job and family were so demanding. “No, sir.”

“For the rest of the afternoon, we’re going to take our class outside. Ever heard of an ‘outdoor classroom’?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s one of the newer ideas in modern education. Students such as yourself can learn a lot from working outside, if the weather permits, and for persistent offenders, the different setting often improves their behavior.”

“But what will we do out there, sir?” I was confused about this whole idea. It seemed so far removed from the usual routine I’d come to expect at the Castle.

“I’ve planned your schedule for the rest of the day as follows: first, we are going to do some bird watching. Have you ever bird watched?”

“No, sir. I’m not completely sure what that is, sir.”

“It’s more of a British pastime, but I think you’ll like it, and I brought some binoculars. After bird watching, we’re going to play tennis, because you have a physical education requirement and I want to ensure you meet it. Following tennis, we will return to the castle and take a shower before you report to Mr. Collins for Trick-or-Treat duty.”

“Yes, sir.” I wasn’t sure what the bird watching thing was going to be like. I mean, I knew it involved watching birds, but what did they do that was so interesting? Why were British people so fascinated by it? I guessed I’d find out, and if it didn’t involve getting myself into any more trouble, that was just fine by me for the time being.

I liked that he’d outlined the day, to give me structure, because it was something I deeply craved. When I knew what was supposed to happen, and what the rules were, I could decide whether or not to break them. I didn’t like getting into accidental trouble, and I couldn’t explain why.

We wandered out of the castle and made our way across the soy fields toward the woodland. I was wearing my school uniform, since Idris hadn’t told me to change.

Walking out in a landscape like this brought back memories of summers in China, where even the most overpopulated, built-up city could suddenly turn into soy fields or rice paddies.

“Are you all right?” Idris asked, and I realized I’d sighed, deeply and loudly.

I nodded. “Just remembering something, I guess.”

“Would you like to tell me?”

I had nothing against sharing. “Every summer, my parents sent me to China to a boarding school, hoping I’d get ahead in my studies and learn traditional Chinese values.”

“That sounds like an interesting cultural opportunity.”

I snorted at his attempt to gloss over it all. “When I was sixteen, there was this one, brief, stolen afternoon with my friends when we’d gotten out from the watchful gaze of our teachers. We scaled the fence in our demure flats and long, pleated skirts.”

“This sounds very naughty,” Idris remarked. I wasn’t sure if he was chastising me or not.

“Yeah, it was. The three of us walked all the way to a tiny convenience store selling Coca-Cola and weird flavors of Pocky and potato chips; foreign-imported concepts but always with a Chinese twist. We hid in a field just like this one, but greener. Hunkered down below the stalks, we devoured our illicit contraband, talking non-stop about school drama, before we reluctantly went back to school, covered in dusty dirt, to face the music.”

“And you were in a lot of trouble over this?”

I nodded emphatically as I remembered. “Oh, boy, were we ever. We were thoroughly punished on the spot, separated into new dorms, and given extra written work for a week after that. But it was worth it.”

“Why?” I wasn’t sure if he was perplexed, or if he was finding out if I understood what I’d done.

“All the punishment in the world was worth that brief moment of freedom on a rare clear day in the middle of all the obligations and perpetual disapproval. Not to mention the bad food. You don’t know bad food until you’ve eaten at a school cafeteria in China. That was the worst thing I ever did as a kid. Maybe that’s why I’m so naughty as an adult schoolgirl. I was never allowed any opportunity for a real rebellion when I was younger.”

“But you also crave being controlled,” he noted. It was true, I did.

“If I get away with stuff, I get so giddy it scares me. I need discipline, but I need the chance to be naughty, first.”

Blowing off the classroom today when the sky was so blue, I felt the same lightness I’d experienced that day in China. I was escaping, but this time I had permission. Idris seemed to be thinking over what I’d said.

“Given that you’re in secondary school, young lady, you are given plenty of opportunities to be naughty. But you ought to think of them as opportunities to do the right thing.” As soon as he spoke, I knew the moment had passed and we were back in our roles as teacher and student again.

“But why, sir?”

“So one day you grow into a sensible young lady ready to take on the world.”

I sighed. “Doing the right thing is exhausting.”

We kept walking until we got to the trees. The smell of the woodland was comforting.

“We need to find a good spot, secluded from noise or other people, but with some visibility of the surrounding environment,” Idris told me as we walked through the woods. The Castle was so busy with people, it was nice to be out here. I doubted we’d meet anyone else so far from the entrance.

“What exactly do we do once we find some birds?” I asked.

He chuckled. “We identify them using my ‘American Birds’ book.”

“And then what?”

“Then we watch them.”

Idris was a lot more enthusiastic about this whole bird watching thing than I was. The change of scenery was refreshing, though. I sometimes wondered if I had become a journalist because I hated sitting still. My whole childhood had been sitting quietly, usually listening politely and respectfully to adults.

“Take a seat.” He indicated a fallen tree trunk. I perched on it, my ass aching from the bruises beneath the surface, while he got comfortable beside me.

He handed me the binoculars. “Point them over there.”

I looked through them, quickly pulling them away from my eyes. “Everything’s fuzzy, sir,” I explained, as I twirled the disc to focus the lenses properly, occasionally looking through them to check. “There.”

Once I’d got the binoculars to behave, I aimed them in the direction Idris had suggested. There was a slight hint of movement on one of the low branches of a tree. I saw the back of a brown bird with a sort-of orange tail.

“What is it, sir?” I asked Idris. For some reason, I felt compelled to whisper despite not having been told it was necessary.

“Let me see.” He took the binoculars. “Some sort of hawk. Let’s consult the book.”

He flicked through it to hawks.

“One of those?” I pointed at two similar birds which were listed side-by-side.

“Either a red-tailed hawk or a red-shouldered hawk,” Idris surmised.

“Its tail was kinda orange,” I mused.

“Probably the red-tailed hawk, then,” Idris said.

“Maybe it’s only red when it has sunburn, sir,” I giggled.

To my surprise, instead of telling me to be more serious, Idris chuckled a little, too.

The bird stood around for another minute or so, not really doing anything interesting, then it flew away.

“Ordinarily, you would write down what you’d seen in a notebook, to keep track,” Idris explained. “That way, if you saw a rare or endangered bird, you could remember where you saw it. It helps conservation efforts.”

“Do you have a notebook, sir?”

“Yes, but not here. Mine’s at my flat in London. I wasn’t expecting to see anything while I was here, and anyway, I’m not very experienced with American birds so I can’t identify them as easily as British ones.”

“But you brought binoculars and a field guide, sir?” Why had he done that, if he hadn’t intended to watch birds in America?

“Old habits die hard, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “I saw a bird while I was on a car journey when I first arrived, and I was overcome with the need to know what it was called.”

“And what was it, sir?” I asked.

“A Carolina wren,” he replied. “Now be quiet and wait. They won’t come while we’re talking.”

I obediently stopped making conversation, but it was hard. I wanted to ask him a billion questions. When we’d sat in silence for long enough, a rabbit appeared on the forest floor. Soon after, two birds landed side by side and Idris covered his mouth with his hand. One of the birds was bright yellow, the other was more muted but seemed to have a yellow belly.

“A pair of hooded warblers,” he whispered.

I’d never truly heard anyone speaking with bated breath until that moment. He clearly wanted to tell me what was going on, but he was trying his best not to scare the birds. He handed me the binoculars after he’d spent a half-minute looking.

I realized this must be some special sight, and my heart tingled because instead of keeping the view to himself, he’d torn himself away from it to let me see, too. The perfect gentleman.

I got a good glimpse of the birds, then returned the binoculars to Idris. They were very pretty creatures, and the way they hopped on the forest floor was adorable, but I didn’t want to deprive Idris of seeing them, since he’d been so excited about it.

He studied them for a few seconds before they flew away.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“What did I do, sir?”

“I never would have come out here by myself,” he explained. He opened the book and showed me the entry for the hooded warblers.

“They’re yellow and they have the biggest eyes of any warblers,” I read. “And rare.”

“Not super rare, but certainly something I didn’t expect to see today,” he elaborated.

I decided to do something naughty but unexpected; I put my hand on his and squeezed it affectionately. Rarely did I initiate something like that, not even with my ex-husband, but for some reason, the intensity of this moment made me impulsive.

Before I could regret what I’d done, Idris dropped the bird book on the ground and put his other hand on top of mine. I smiled. Without thinking about it too much, it was clear we were sharing something special.

He leaned forward, and I knew this was going way further than I’d expected. But I wanted it to. Needed the kiss he was moving in for.

His nose was four inches from mine when I parted my lips and closed my eyes. We kissed, and the connection shocked me so hard I pulled away, covering my mouth with my caned hand, while he still held the other one.

“Sorry. Was that too far?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull away like that. When we… uh… kissed, I felt something powerful between us. It surprised me, was all.”

He looked into my eyes with an expression of caring concern. “I felt it, too.”

The moment was slipping away. Awkwardly, I stood up from the fallen tree and brushed the lichen and bark flakes from the back of my skirt.

“Anyway, I guess we’d better head back if you want a tennis match before I have to go trick-or-treating with the little ones,” I said, trying to act casual.

“Yes. Indeed. We ought to get going.” If he was disappointed, he wasn’t sharing about it. He scooped up his book and looked every bit the old-world schoolteacher as he straightened his suit and led the way back to the Castle.