Corbin's Bend Season Two

by Livia Grant

  ‘Don’t go there, Hallie. He doesn’t deserve your tears.’

  The tired car’s dim headlights connect with a roadside sign indicating Corbin’s Bend is just three miles ahead. Relief courses through her. The gas gage is near empty and the roads are becoming almost impassible for anything less than snowplows. She’s lost track of the time, but knows it must be close to midnight by now. She’d been pushing forward, trying to arrive before it got too late. After all, it’s bad enough showing up on Aunt Gina’s doorstep unannounced. Doing it after midnight is just plain rude. Just before her cell phone battery had died yesterday, she’d tried to phone the last number she had for her aunt, but knowing they had moved from New England to Corbin’s Bend since then, understood why the number had been disconnected. She may have to settle for finding their house tonight and just sleep in the car until morning.

  As she rounds another corner, Hallie catches a quick glimpse of a cluster of lights off in the distance. The town lights of Corbin’s Bend are swallowed by the thick trees lining the road. As she rounds the next curve of the winding road, the car fishtails yet again. If it wasn’t so scary driving alone on this dark road, it really would be a beautiful sight. The snow-covered trees stretching out as far as her headlights illuminate are actually quite breathtaking. Hallie’s mom, Gina’s sister, had never understood why her baby sister had agreed to move from the deep south of Louisiana first to New England and later to this ‘God-forsaken tundra’ as her mother had liked to call Colorado.

  It only took Hallie living with her aunt and uncle one summer in New England as a pre-teen for her to understand her aunt’s motives. Ironically, the mountain scenery was only a small part of what made her summers with Aunt Gina and Uncle Adam some of the ‘peak’ moments in life. She always looks back to those summers as the happiest of her life. The closer she gets to Corbin’s Bend, the more worried Hallie gets that her memory may be playing tricks on her. Surely, her aunt and uncle couldn’t possibly be as loving and supportive as her childhood memories recall. People that wonderful only exist in the movies. Still, she knows if even half of what she remembers about her last living relatives is true, she will be happy here.

  She’s within the last mile of her trip when a large deer darts out into the snow-covered road. Hallie slams on the breaks, succeeding in throwing the car into a fast spinning doughnut in the center of the road before sliding off the far side, crashing through the thick brush lining of the road and careening hood first into the six-foot deep ditch. Time moves to slow motion for Hallie as the sound of crunching metal combines with snapping wood until the car comes to a final resting spot nose down at a forty-five degree angle, propped against the trunk of a large tree. The sudden silence allows Hallie to hear her own gasping breaths as she tries to calm her racing heart.

  Hallie’s forehead had connected with the steering wheel as she was thrust forward when the car decided to lose its battle with the tree. It all happened in the space of just a few seconds, yet even in her disoriented state, Hallie is relieved she’d been wearing her seatbelt. The car was so old, it had no airbags, so the belt was the only thing keeping her from lurching forward into the steering column of the crunched car.

  A quiet hush descends all around her, yet inside, she wants to scream. The sound of her own semi-hysterical laughter breaks the silence, releasing some of her muscle’s tight tension from the accident.

  She takes a few minutes to catch her breath, taking stock of her newest aches and pains, feeling relatively sure she’d done no major damage to herself. The car is another story. The rest of Hallie’s journey will be on foot as she is certain the car has reached the end of its lifespan.

  The question is, how to get herself out of the car and back up to the road? She’s not looking forward to making her way to her aunt’s on foot considering she only has what most people would consider a light coat and fashion boots on her feet. Living in California had not required snow gear and her hasty departure had not allowed her to plan for the trip. She briefly considers sleeping in the car tonight and climbing out after daylight when someone might find her driving by, but the car’s engine is dead and she doesn’t relish the idea of freezing to death in the car. There is no other option. She’s going to have to walk the rest of the way tonight. It can’t be more than a mile.

  She tests the driver’s door first to ensure she can get it open. The tree beside the car only allows for a foot-wide opening, but being ‘a runt’ as her stepfather, Gene, used to call her, does have its advantages. She takes a minute to stretch to grab up her purse from the passenger side floor along with the flimsy gloves she bought at a rest stop a few hundred miles back. She’ll have to have Uncle Adam bring her back for the other meager belongings in her small suitcase in the trunk tomorrow.

  When she feels ready to support herself, she unbuckles the seatbelt, allowing herself to fall onto the steering wheel. She maneuvers her legs through the opening of the door as the wind whips snow into her face, briefly giving her pause on her course of action.

  Hallie drops the few feet down from the car to the ditch below. The thick snow cushions her fall, yet her ankle twists uncomfortably under her as gravity drops her faster than she’d like. Within seconds, she feels the bite of the snow seeping through her jeans, covering her body with cold wetness. She knows she needs to move fast, not just to keep her body heat up, but she can’t remain exposed to the elements for long. A pang of pain shoots through her forehead, pounding behind her eyes. She suspects the newest pain is courtesy of the bump forming on her head from connecting with the steering wheel.

  She takes her frustration out on the surrounding forest by screaming at the top of her lungs. “God-damn it, what the hell is next?” She regrets it immediately when fresh pain shoots through her forehead.

  Climbing up the ditch embankment comes next. Her boots slip on the incline, forcing her to make several attempts at clawing through the brush until she finds enough handholds in nearby bushes to pull herself up. Her breathing is heavy from exertion by the time she finally arrives back up at the dark road. Without the benefit of moonlight or even crappy car headlights, it is eerily black, yet oddly serene. The sound of the naughty deer who’d caused this whole turn of events draws her attention as the buck prances off into the forest as if nothing had happened. She’s relieved she at least doesn’t need to add the guilt of killing the deer to her already depressing evening.

  Hallie takes a moment to brush off as much snow as possible, before heading off in the direction of Corbin’s Bend. The going is slow through the deep snow and she wishes another car would come along so she could try to hitch a ride, but she’s not hopeful this late at night. As the adrenaline rush of her crash wears off, she becomes more aware of the ache in her ankle.

  It has to be twenty minutes before she gets to an opening in the trees large enough to see the lights of town again. She can no longer feel her toes by the time she reaches the sign welcoming her to Corbin’s Bend. As luck would have it, the first thing she comes to is a huge park. She knows the kids of the town must have a blast on all of the playground equipment when the weather was more cooperative than at the present moment. Exhaustion threatens and Halle has to dig deep to keep her cold feet moving forward.

  As late as it is, she’s relieved that at least a few houses still have lights on, giving her hope her aunt may still be up when she arrives. There is just enough dim light from a park light for her to check her aunt’s return address from last year’s Christmas card. When she arrives at the first street sign, it seems her eyes are playing tricks on her as she reads Spanking Loop. Who names a street Spanking Loop?

  There is only one direction to turn, and that leads her directly into the wind. The lump on her head is pounding. She is shaking from head to toe, forcing herself to move forward. She can see street lights lining up in a row ahead of her, making it clear there are many blocks to walk ahead, not even sure if any of them will be her aunt’s street. Tears threaten as she realizes how precarious he
r position is. What is she supposed to do? Walk up and down the streets of the town, aimlessly walking through the snow until she finds her aunt’s street? If only her cell phone hadn’t died, she could Google the address.

  As much as she hates it, she may just need to stop at one of the houses with lights on to ask for directions.

  * * * * *

  Traci appears in the open great room at the fifteen-minute mark on the dot. Troy had been watching the time, hoping he wasn’t going to have to go to her room to collect her. Now that he’s had a few minutes to calm down, he’s having second thoughts about if he’s doing the right thing in disciplining his sister. She is a grown woman, after all, and by anyone’s standard a very successful, independent woman at that.

  In the end, he’s decided to proceed with her spanking for two fundamental reasons. First and foremost, she absolutely made major errors in judgment tonight, putting herself and others at risk. If endangering her personal safety doesn’t warrant a punishment, nothing else ever could.

  Second, and more importantly, Troy is coming to the conclusion that Traci chose to live and practice in Corbin’s Bend for a very good reason. It’s clear she subscribes to the premise of the community. Troy suspects her uncharacteristic funk is, at least in part, due to her failure to find her own someone special to share the kind of intimate relationship with that she had witnessed in their parent’s marriage. Considering Troy has recently come to the same realization of what is missing in his own life, he thinks he has a pretty good idea of how the rest of the night needs to play out. While it may seem unsettling to find himself in the position of Traci’s disciplinarian, he knows she needs him to play the role of her (HoH). Dad would do it if he were here. Tonight, the responsibility falls to Troy.

  Their eyes meet as Traci approaches tentatively. Her shoulder-length hair is still damp, fresh out of the shower. He stifles a smile when he realizes she’s wearing a floor-length, heavy flannel gown. He suspects she’s trying to put as much padding as possible between her tush and the dreaded hairbrush.

  Troy is sitting at the eat-in kitchen island. As she nears, he can see so many emotions as they parade across his sister’s face. Guilt and embarrassment are there, but the emotion Troy hates to see the most is her fear. He needs to wipe the fear away and pronto. Troy stands and crosses to meet her, wrapping her in a big bear hug. A stifled sob escapes his sister as she clings to him for support.

  “I really am so sorry, Troy. I don’t know what came over me. Now that the alcohol is wearing off, I can hardly believe I was so stupid.”

  Hugging her tight, Troy reassures her. “It sure as hell isn’t like you at all, at least not the Traci I know. That’s why I know something is really wrong.” Pulling back so he can see her eyes, Troy presses his sister for answers. “What’s this really about, Trace? I’ve noticed the last few months you seem to be in a bit of a funk.”

  The answer flashed in her eyes so fast, and then was gone. She’s good at hiding her emotions. Troy knows even if she won’t open up tonight, he needs to get her to talk about what’s wrong at some point this weekend.

  The continued silence is deafening. They need to stop stalling. Taking his sister by the hand and reaching for the backless barstool with his other hand, Troy moves to the center of the open space, putting the high chair front and center. Understanding his plan, Traci tugs at his hand in a failed attempt to move away. “It’s time, Traci. Let’s get this over with. I want you to lean over the stool and hold onto the lowest rung.” Troy pulls her forward and helps her move into the embarrassing position he’s sure she hadn’t planned on at the start of her evening.

  The stool is the perfect height to rest her flat stomach against as she reaches for the wooden rung near the floor. Her toes are just able to touch the floor as her legs jut out away from the tall chair. He sees her grab onto the wood, hanging on for dear life. He hears her slight squeal when she feels her brother lifting the heavy flannel gown up and over her back, displaying her granny-style panties. He’s thankful she can’t see his smile at her veiled attempt at modesty.

  Pushing aside the awkwardness of seeing his sister in such a precarious position, Troy moves to stand next to the stool. Taking a deep breath, he begins Traci’s warm-up spanking, delivering a steady stream of swats across her bottom.

  Unpleasant memories of a similar night just over a year before surface, and Troy works to tamp them down. Tonight is about his sister, not Kathy. Spending time remembering what wasn’t meant to be is no use. He’d wasted enough time trying to make her and their relationship into something it wasn’t. More importantly, what it never could be. Kathy had made that abundantly clear the night of her first… and last… punishment at his hand. She probably still thinks he broke up with her because he liked spanking more than he loved her. An assumption which had proved to Troy she really had no clue what domestic discipline was really all about in the first place.

  The warm-up is light, allowing brother and sister to each slip into this new familial dynamic. With each passing smack of his flat hand to her pantie-covered bottom, Troy’s resolve strengthens. Traci needs this. To absolve her of her guilt. To guide her to better choices next time. To keep her safe. The swats are coming faster… harder.

  Without changing his delivery pace, he knows it’s time for the lecture. “All right, Traci. Why are you being punished tonight?”

  Traci answers after the briefest of pauses. Her voice strained. “Because I was irresponsible. I put myself and others at risk by drinking and driving.”

  “Very good. And what else?” He follows up his question with a flurry of harder swats to her sit spot.

  “Ouch, Troy! That hurts!”

  “Yep. That’s the point. Why else, Trace?”

  It takes her longer to answer this one. Her voice so soft, he almost misses her surprising reply. “Because, I acted like a slut. I was lonely and hadn’t been out on a date in so long that I didn’t care who I met anymore.”

  Troy is surprised at her candor, rewarding it with ten fast and furious heavy smacks. “You need to respect yourself and your body, young lady. You are important to me and to a lot of other people. It is completely unacceptable to put yourself in so much danger with a stranger who could have done anything to you had I not been here.” He keeps up the heavy pace as her breathing gets heavy as if she’s working hard not to burst out crying.

  “Please. Troy. It won’t happen again. I promise. I was just lonely.”

  Troy hears the sadness in her voice and it hurts him to know his sister has been in pain and he hadn’t been there for her. For a brief moment he questions if it’s fair to punish her for being sad, but the feeling is gone as quick as it came. She earned this punishment and more importantly, she needs this punishment. She needs the peace that will come after. The freedom of releasing her guilt. Without the punishment, she will just revert to punishing herself with self-doubt and loathing tomorrow in the light of day. No, better to put this to rest tonight before they go to bed so tomorrow they can try to have a fresh start.

  The warm up is done. Leaving his sister draped over the stool, Troy walks to the kitchen island to retrieve their mother’s wooden hairbrush. As he picks it up, memories of his parents return. Knowing his father had used this exact implement to discipline his family many times over the years, each time to keep them safe and guide them, makes his job a bit easier.

  ‘If it was good enough for Dad, it’s good enough for me.’

  Returning to the chastised spankee in the middle of the room, Troy can feel the tension pouring off her body as she awaits the next phase of her punishment. He takes a minute to touch the cool skin of her lower back, hoping to help her relax a bit. He had briefly considered continuing on her bare bottom, but he just can’t. It would be too weird.

  The brush feels heavy in his right hand as he steps close enough to wrap his left hand across her back, helping to hold her tightly to him, preventing her from flailing.

  His first strike of the flat side
of the large brush is too tentative. He’s out of practice. Her squeak confirms his next strike is better… or worse depending on your point of view. He delivers the first dozen slaps with the brush slowly, spreading them evenly across her bottom, giving her time to adjust to the growing power behind each swing. Troy hesitates after the first dozen, long enough to take a cleansing breath for himself and allowing Traci’s soft cries to be heard in the otherwise quiet room.

  Steeling himself, Troy begins in earnest. The punishment has truly begun as the strong smacks of wood come fast, yet methodical. Three hard swats to one spot. Three hard swats a few inches away. Again and again, Troy pelts her ass until every inch of her lower cheeks have been walloped a good one.

  Her sit spots are next. Moving the brush lower, he keeps his fast pace, alternating back and forth until he hears his sister start sobbing. As he’d suspected might happen, she’s let go of the stool’s lower wrung and is trying to push up and away. Troy uses his left arm to hold her in place.

  “Traci, that’s enough. Stop your moving and put your hands back down. We aren’t done yet.”

  “Oh, God. It’s too much. Pleassseee.”

  Troy stops long enough to use both hands to guide her back into position. He knows the punishment must continue if he’s to ensure there is never a repeat of her performance tonight. Once he settles her, he resumes the next helping of spanking with a side of lecture.