Old-Fashioned Values (21 page)

She froze as he smiled and grabbed her hand. He brought her fingers to his lips and licked them, then he kissed her mouth, so that she tasted her pussy on his lips.

“I love you,” John said.

Rachel felt her face break into an enormous smile. “I love you, too, sir.”

“But,” John continued, “you are a very naughty girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s a very good thing I know what to do with a naughty girl, isn’t it?”

Rachel giggled, “Yes, sir.”

“Lie on your tummy, please.”

“Oh, sir! You’re not really…”

“I most certainly am. And I need to say thank you to the anus that gave me so much pleasure last night, don’t I?”

Rachel turned onto her tummy. She still wasn’t quite used to how very delicious it felt to be naked in bed with a naked man, to feel like his cock was always there, ready to use her pussy and now her bottom. John, having gotten onto his knees next to her, spread her bottom wide, so that Rachel’s blush upon waking returned in force. It deepened when she felt John plant a kiss there.

“Sir!”

“I’ll kiss what I want, thank you very much,” he said, and let her bottom cheeks close. Then he spanked her once, twice, three times. Then, suddenly and to Rachel’s surprise, John was spreading her legs and climbing on top of her, and he was inside her pussy like that, supporting his weight on his hands.

“There,” he said. “How’s that for a naughty girl’s morning surprise?”

“Oh my God, John,” Rachel breathed, thanking the universe for the invention of IUDs. “That’s the best… thing… ever.” Feeling her thighs separated by his, feeling his cock so forceful and yet so gentle—it was like the counterpart of the way he had taken her maidenhead. To be submissively face down, but to feel not spread wide open, as she did when he pushed her knees all the way back until she lay completely exposed to his gaze and then to his fucking, but nevertheless thoroughly yielded up to him, was wonderful. The way his loins met her bottom, too, with the lingering heat of the spanking, and the lingering soreness of the anal sex…

Rachel found herself gasping, “I’m going to… please, sir, may I?”

“May you what?” John asked, panting a little with his exertions.

“Oh, God, sir… come… oh, please…”

“Yes, Rachel, you may,” John said. She did, and then John held himself in hard as Rachel felt her pussy contracting around his cock, and grunted out his own orgasm. He let his weight sink down for a moment onto her back, and that was surprisingly delicious; John was a big man, and to bear his weight made Rachel feel like a very special girl.

Then John rolled off and propped himself on his elbow so that they could look into one another’s eyes, Rachel’s cheek turned onto the pillow.

“How’s your anus, young lady?” he asked frankly.

Rachel giggled. “Sore, but… well, it made me so horny, when I woke up.”

“That’s good,” John said with a smile. “I won’t use it again today, but don’t expect to have to wait too long before I take my pleasure there again.”

Rachel, despite just having come, felt herself flow with abandon at the way he spoke of taking his pleasure. There was nothing better in the whole cosmos than submitting to a wonderful man, she thought.

They heard a door open down the hall, and a light footstep. “That’s Sally, I think,” John said. “You should go to her.”

Rachel smiled and got out of bed, a little gingerly. She threw on the nightgown she had packed but not yet of course worn, and kissed John. Then she went to find Sally.

She found her roommate downstairs making coffee. Sally turned to Rachel with a radiant smile, and Rachel hugged her hard. Rachel laughed at how tightly Sally clung to her. “When John first said it, last night,” Rachel said. “I thought it would be something we just needed to get through, because the guys wanted it, but now I feel like we’re… I don’t know. Something special to one another.”

“Anal-sisters,” Sally whispered, giggling.

“Yes!” Rachel said. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God, yes,” Sally said. She broke the hug and finished starting the coffeemaker. “You?”

“Well, John… um, he had me twice back there.”

“Twice?!”

Rachel nodded. “He apologized, actually, and that somehow made it hotter? I’m not sure why.”

“Maybe because it meant he couldn’t stop himself?”

“Yes!” Rachel said. “Yes, that’s exactly it. And he was gentle, except at the end of the second time.”

Sally’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I think we heard that. We were snuggling by then, and…”

“I know I was pretty loud. I bet you heard when he spanked me, too. He said that was to help me open up for the trainer, but I kind of think he just wanted to spank me.” She laughed. “On top of the hairbrush spanking it hurt a lot. But, you know, in that good way.”

Sally nodded. “Did it help you open up? I had a lot of trouble. You probably heard me, too.”

Rachel nodded sympathetically. She really, really didn’t want to let Sally know, though, that Sally’s cries of discomfort had turned Rachel on a very great deal, in the midst of John’s first session in Rachel’s rear end. It had seemed, as John rode her and Sally cried out down the hall, that Rachel’s pussy pulsed in sympathy, and she had come very close to climaxing just from those stimuli as she whimpered softly into the pillow John had given her to hold while he enjoyed her.

* * *

While Sally took a mug of coffee up to Mark, Rachel decided she wanted to see the ocean; she put on her big down coat and her socks and boots, and slipped out the door. It felt deliciously naughty to be naked under her nightgown and yet warm enough against the February morning wind, as long as she kept her hands in her pockets. She went down to the beach and stared out at the sun rising over the winter ocean, loving her life.

She forgot, of course, that the beach was forbidden, until she heard John shouting, “Rachel!” She turned, hoping to see only relief on his face, but instead she saw anger as well. For a moment she stopped loving her life quite so much, but then his warm arms enveloped her, and she knew that although her bottom was going to pay quite a price for it, she loved her life even more with John holding her.

“Rachel, didn’t I tell you that we can’t walk on the beach in the winter?” John said, holding her away from him now. He had come out in a t-shirt and jeans, and no socks in his loafers.

“Yes, sir.”

“People have
died
on this beach, walking alone—even in the summer. What were you thinking?” There had been anger in the way he shouted her name, but now there was only stern, reasoned disappointment.

“I forgot,” Rachel said miserably.

“I have to cane you, Rachel.”

“Oh, God, John. Please, no.”

“I have to teach you a real lesson, and I can’t have you thinking it’s anything but a punishment, sweetheart. You can have Sally with you, and Mark will watch…”

“No!”

“Yes. This is going to be a punishment, on terms that make it absolutely clear that you must learn your lesson, so that I know you’re safe. Get your naughty backside into the house, and take off all your clothes.”

“Oh my God, John. You can’t.”

“You know I can, Rachel. When you’re naked, lay yourself over the arm of the sofa in the living room and wait.”

Crying, but somehow still loving her life, Rachel tore herself out of his grasp and ran blindly toward the house.

Sally and Mark were standing there when she banged the door open. Sally’s face changed from relief at seeing her to distress at her tears. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… John’s going to cane me.”

“What? Why?!”

“I went for a walk on the beach.”

Sally said, “But you know he said not to do that!”

“I forgot, okay?!”

“How could you forget that?”

“I don’t know!”

John came in the door just then. “Rachel,” he said, “do as you’ve been told. Sally, I’d like you to stay to comfort your friend. Mark, I’d like you to witness.”

Rachel looked from Sally’s face to Mark’s. Sally compressed her lips into a tight line and gave a little nod, and Mark nodded, too. They clearly felt like the punishment was just.

How had she forgotten? Sally was exactly right to ask that question. It didn’t make any sense. John had warned her very specifically; he had even said the thing about people dying there. And there was Rachel blithely loving life, staring out at the sea. Discipline: she must have been asking for it, almost literally.

Trembling, she took off the down coat, hung it up, and slipped off her boots. She walked over to the big leather sofa in front of the fire, where a few embers still glowed, on top of which John was putting new logs. “I’m going to go get my cane,” he said gravely. “Rachel, you’re to be naked over the sofa arm when I get back.”

“Naked?” Sally gasped.

“Sally,” Mark said warningly, as John walked up the stairs to do as he had said he would, and fetch the instrument of discipline whose very name made Rachel shake with fear. Sally looked up at him with a furrowed brow, and her submission to Mark seemed to make it better for Rachel, somehow. Having a best friend—as Rachel suddenly that instant realized Sally had become to her—who felt the way Rachel did about loving discipline, and who had to go through the same trials, helped Rachel feel that at least those trials really did tend toward her happiness in the end, no matter what the rest of the world might think.

Chapter Twenty-Five

John came down the stairs holding the old school cane, two feet of half-inch diameter rattan. He hadn’t used it in four years, and had only ever used it twice. The last time had been when Carol had, in a planned scene, role-played an adulteress. It had been one of the hottest scenes John had ever played with her, but he had still not caned Carol as hard as he was now inclined to cane Rachel. How could she possibly have gone down to the beach, when he had been so explicit about the rule?

But he knew, didn’t he? Rachel’s need for discipline wasn’t, well, disciplined yet. It would manifest itself in stupid behavior from time to time, and John would have to make sure he was around to make it clear that Rachel could get the boundaries she needed without endangering her life. The beach had almost certainly seemed innocuous to her, and so the subconscious impulse that had led her there hadn’t taken into account the possibility of getting swept out to sea by the freak waves that came with terrible frequency in the winter. That impulse had just been stretching its legs and looking perhaps for a hairbrush-spanking.

But that same stupid impulse could easily get Rachel into much greater danger, because it was unreasoning and uncalculating. John needed to set a boundary so hard that every time Rachel considered doing anything she didn’t absolutely
know
was safe and wise, she would put her hand down to her bottom and remember—and think much harder about the choices involved.

He found Rachel where he had asked her to be, over the arm of the sofa. Her nightgown lay in a forlorn little heap over the other arm. Sally sat, looking adorable in her own flannel nightgown, in the middle of the sofa, holding Rachel’s hands and talking to her softly, to calm her. Rachel was crying.

Mark sat, trying desperately, it seemed to John, to look comfortable, in the armchair to the right of the fire.

In silence, John went to stand next to Rachel. Sally looked up at him. “She’s so sorry, John,” Sally said.

“Sally,” Mark said, as if his heart weren’t completely in the warning. Someday, John knew, he would probably have to deliver this kind of message to Sally, and he would understand then.

“It’s alright, Mark,” John said. “Sally knows Rachel needs this. Sally, I’m afraid I have to be very severe. Rachel’s going to be in a lot of pain. But I know you’ll comfort her.” Rachel sobbed loudly.

“Yes,” Sally whispered.

“Young lady,” John said in a tone of declaration, as if delivering a judicial sentence. “I told you that the beach was off limits, and you disobeyed me and put yourself in danger. I’m going to give you twelve with the cane now, as punishment. As I cane you, please remember that if you do anything like this again, I will have to punish you even more severely. I’m hopeful that I can teach you your lesson here and now, but it’s very important to me that you understand that I won’t give up trying to make you a better girl. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir,” Rachel sobbed. She had cried all the way through John’s little lecture.

“You will count the strokes.”

“Yes, sir.”

John whisked the cane through the air once, twice, three times. He saw Rachel’s hands tighten on Sally’s, and Sally’s gaze dart from John to Rachel’s face, and then lock eyes with her friend.

He began to cane his wonderful girl, and she began to scream. She kicked her legs, but her position over the sofa arm gave her no escape at all, though John eventually had to place his hand firmly on the small of her back. He ignored the lewd glimpses he got of Rachel’s pussy and even of her anus, where they had had such fun only a few hours before, and kept caning her, steadily and without any long torturing pauses to make the ordeal worse than it already must be.

Every stroke, delivered with nearly the full force of John’s arm, left a long, vivid double line of red and white across Rachel’s bottom, growing a little in lividity on the right side because of the way the tip of the cane traveled faster than its middle.

Sally started to cry, too, but her eyes held Rachel’s and she murmured, “You’re okay. You’re okay, sweetie,” through the whole punishment. It seemed to go on and on, despite having the definite limit of twelve cuts. The whipping sound of the cane, the thwack of it, and Rachel’s counting cry of pain, all happened again and again, nine times, until Rachel was finally screaming “Ten! Oh, God, John… sir, it hurts so much. Please stop… please…”

“Almost done,” Sally whispered.

John brought his arm down. Rachel gave a shriek. Her bottom bounced up and down, contracting helplessly to try to ease the smart.

“Eleven!” she sobbed. Her bottom was crisscrossed now, from the top of her cheeks down to the middle of her thighs, and John could tell she was in agony so terrible she would, he hoped, never forget it.