Jill had been rather nervous at the prospect of seeing Elizabeth, fearful of how ill she might look, but in the event she was reassured to see she did look rather tired, but was nonetheless cheerful and clearly delighted to see her surrogate daughter.
After a short chat, she showed Jill the notes she'd made up that morning relating to the farm. She'd compiled lists of suppliers, telephone numbers, regular chores and so on, and had also made up a list of instructions regarding the keeping of the books. Jill wouldn't be expected to maintain the accounting records precisely, but there was sufficient information to ensure the basics would be done so Elizabeth wouldn't have to come back to a mountain of disorganised paperwork.
Ignoring Jill's protests, Elizabeth insisted on giving her a guided tour of the office and where everything was kept, showing her the files, order books, journals and other important items.
"I'll manage fine," Jill assured her for the umpteenth time. "Now, why don't you get back into bed and have a little rest while I organise the dinner and bring you up a tray?"
Her heart was lighter as she made her way back downstairs to the kitchen after tucking Elizabeth securely back into bed. Her worst fears about how ill Elizabeth might be were not realized, and the instructions she'd been left had helped relieve some unspoken doubts about her ability to cope. There was now only one hurdle left to contend with—Michael!
So far she hadn't seen him, but it was only a matter of time. She guessed he must be out in the paddocks somewhere, but supposed he'd be in soon for his evening meal. There was no point in dwelling on that though. Constantly, since her irrevocable decision to come to the farm, she'd rehearsed exactly what she'd say to him when at last they met. She would simply tell him that whatever may have happened between them in the past, was just that—in the past, and the only important thing now was to work together as much as was necessary so Elizabeth and Jack could concentrate on getting Elizabeth well again without them having to worry about the farm.
Although she'd been over all the points in her speech at least fifty times since yesterday, she found herself going over it still one more time while she prepared the meal. Actually, there wasn't so much to do. She firstly laid the table and put out the plates and cutlery plus some bread and butter and the salt and pepper. Then made some salad with a delicious dressing using fresh herbs from the kitchen garden, sliced some cold mutton from the fridge, cut two pieces of pie and put them in bowls for after, and lastly organised some juice and glasses.
She was in the process of putting the finishing touches when the men arrived. After seeing Jill safely ensconced, Jack had returned to work, anxious to get a few last minute things done before leaving the next day. He and Michael appeared now from the outside washhouse where they'd cleaned up for dinner.
"Started already, I see, love," Jack said, eyeing the attractively laid spread on the table with pleasure. "How's Mum? She eaten yet?"
"Not yet. She's having a sleep first. I'm just about to make her up a tray now."
"I'll take it up when I've finished, shall I? Then I can finish the packing while she has something to eat." As Jack spoke, he seated himself at the table and began helping himself to the food. From the moment of their arrival, Jill had been only too conscious of the other man standing behind him. Now as Jack sat down, she found herself gazing into Michael's dark, velvety eyes. Eyes, she noted, which were regarding her every bit as coolly and warily as she was regarding him. With a mere duck of his head and a mumbled greeting, he joined his father at the table and left her to get on with preparing a tray for Elizabeth.
Although neither men spoke very much during their meal, when they did it was always related to work, so Jill was not required to join the conversation. Nevertheless, she listened to all that was said very carefully and with a keen new interest, now she felt that anything going on around the farm had become her business too.
"Would you like some coffee?" she asked as Jack finished his meal and settled back in his chair.
"Thanks, love, that was delicious, and coffee will finish it off nicely. I'll take it up with the tray."
A couple of minutes later, carrying the tray on which were his coffee and Elizabeth's dinner, he disappeared in the direction of the bedroom he shared with his wife.
Jill took the coffee she'd made for her and Michael and forced herself to sit calmly at the table.
"So, you're going to play the farmer's wife, are you?" Michael asked with a slightly suggestive leer.
"Certainly not!" she retorted hotly, blushing at the innuendo, and then added primly. "But I am going to do my best to take care of things for Mum while she and Jack are away. I may need your help occasionally but otherwise should manage fine on my own."
His face closed and darkened more at her words. "I've got my own work to do. I shan't have time to be running around after you."
"I didn't ask you to," she replied through gritted teeth. Forcing herself to remain calm, she added "I said I may need your help occasionally. Other than that, I shall be more than happy if I don't see you at all. I can leave your meals in your room if you prefer. That will cut down the amount of time we have to see each other. Just remember, Michael, I'm here for Mum and Jack. Once they don't need me anymore, I'll be gone. You may not be happy with the idea of my being here, but it wasn't exactly my choice either!"
"No," he growled menacingly. "You're right. It wasn't. So you just remember one thing too, this farm is our life. Not some game we play for a couple of weeks before going skipping off back to the city." He finished his coffee and rose, staring down at her. His face was a carefully arranged mask of indifference, but his voice betrayed his hostility. "It won't be necessary to leave my meals in my room. I fully intend having them here as I always do. You will have yours at the same time. That way I can keep an eye on what you're doing. I'll be in for breakfast at six." And with that, he was gone.
Jill stared at the doorway through which he'd left. It was clear she'd been right to think that dealing with Michael would be the most difficult part of this assignment, although she'd really had no idea what his reaction to her presence would be. Seeing him again now, though, had made two things patently clear. Firstly that she meant nothing to him and he would plainly rather she were not here, and secondly that she loved him as deeply and fiercely as ever.
* * * * *
Jack and Elizabeth left early the next morning after breakfast. The mood was somewhat sombre, but Elizabeth was outwardly cheerful and refused to allow any fussing. She kissed Jill and Michael goodbye and promised to return good as new in four weeks. As soon as his parents had gone, Michael left to begin the day's work. His manner with Jill was as taciturn as it had been the previous evening, and he made no sign that that might change. Still, Jill reminded herself, she would have plenty to do to keep herself busy and keep her mind off more dangerous topics.
And certainly for the first couple of days, this proved to be the case. Elizabeth had a lady who came in twice a week and helped with the cleaning, and with such a big house and so much dusting, vacuuming and polishing to be done, Jill was more than grateful for Mrs. Pollock's help. Although she did a quick clean around each morning, she was happy to leave the care of the woodwork and the cleaning of the floors to someone else.
She quickly established a routine for herself. Rising at 5:00am to shower and dress, and then downstairs to have Michael's breakfast ready by 6:00. While he ate, he gave her a list of any errands or phone calls that might need to be made during the day.
At 6:30, he left and Jill cleaned up and began the rest of her chores. Some days Michael came back to the house for lunch, and other days she would prepare a packed lunch and take it to a pre-arranged meeting point. As well as the cooking and cleaning, Jill looked after the garden, went to town daily to collect the mail and run various errands, looked after the accounts and so on. By the end of the day, she was generally grateful just to collapse into bed with a book, although sleep overtook her so quickly, she was beginning to wonder if she
'd ever finish it.
Although there was still a barrier between her and Michael, the tension slowly began to ease, and dinner by the Wednesday of the second week was more like the easy companionship of old. Instead of rushing straight off to his room as he had been doing, he stayed and helped clean up and then suggested they watch the movie on television.
Sitting on the couch with him, sharing microwave popcorn from a bowl, Jill found her mind wandering from the movie to the imaginings in her own mind. She'd allowed herself to pretend at times during the past few days that she and Michael were married and River Gums was really her home. She'd thought that this is how it would be, cooking for him, minding the house, and helping him run the farm. It would be such a good partnership, she'd told herself, if only it was what he wanted too. Now, sitting with him, watching television together in the evening, the picture was complete. She sighed.
Only trouble was, it was just as make-believe as the story on the screen in front of her.
"Well," he said, standing, stretching and switching off the television when the long movie finally came to an end. "Probably not a classic, but better than sitting in my room on my own." Holding out his hand, he helped her to her feet. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to say something else. But at last he shrugged and let go of her hand. Collecting up the popcorn bowl and glasses, she went into the kitchen and put the dishes on the sink, conscious of him following closely behind her.
"It's late," he said, looking at the microwave clock. "You'd better get to bed." Moving closer, that dark impenetrable brooding lurking in his eyes behind his casual demeanour, he ran his hand down her back and let it rest on her bottom. Immediately she felt the shiver of excitement ripple through her, felt her breath catch in her throat and felt the quick rush of hot colour to her cheeks. "You've managed to keep that lovely bottom of yours unspanked so far," he murmured, "but I wouldn't sleep in and be late with breakfast if I were you, unless you'd like that situation to change." And with a warning slap from his hand, and a solemnly arched eyebrow, he strode from the kitchen.
It was late, after 11:00pm, but his parting words and touch meant it was much, much later before Jill finally drifted into a restless sleep. Glad as she was the initial tension between them had eased, those last words and his hand on her bottom burned in her mind and body leaving her tossing and turning feverishly in her bed, unable to find calm or comfort.
She'd hated the chilly gulf that had separated them since her arrival, but she was also aware that it kept her safe. It wasn't that she didn't want to be close to him. She wanted it desperately. Her ears ached for his words, her mouth pined for his kisses and even her bottom trembled for his harshly sweet touch, but it was too dangerous. She had to be here with him for nearly another three weeks, and she dreaded to think what might happen if he crossed the safety barrier and set free the trapped turbulence bubbling between them. Like an uncontrollable demon, once released it could destroy their charade and make her stay impossible, and then what of her promise to Jack and Elizabeth and Vicky? If it was just between her and Michael, she might be willing to face the danger head on. Maybe she'd lose again, but she'd already been to Hell, and despair was no longer a stranger to her. And if she won, she'd finally taste Heaven.
Caught between heavy, achingly wonderful dreams, and memories of being spanked and loved by Michael and sharp tortuous reminders that it couldn't be, that she must ensure that uncrossable no-man's land kept them firmly distanced, she finally lost consciousness, telling herself as she slipped away that above all else she must not be late in the morning—otherwise Michael would spank her… would spank her… spank her… spank… her....
"Huh? Wha…" a sudden, unexpected light blinding her still closed eyes and a weight sinking onto her bed wrenched Jill back from behind the school shed, where in her dream she was hiding as she guiltily dealt out some cards she'd stolen from Elizabeth.
"So, that's where you are!" she heard the schoolteacher say as her eyes flew open. "I thought I might find you hiding here, naughty girl."
As consciousness rushed in, Jill found herself no longer back at school being scolded by an angry schoolmaster, but still in bed at 6:10am. And to her dismay, the scolding was not coming from a dream master but an all-too-real Michael, now sitting on the bed next to her regarding her sternly.
"Well, I clearly need have no qualms about the spanking I'm about to give you," he said matter-of-factly, rolling up one of the sleeves of his shirt. "I gave you a good warning last night and you have slept in anyway, almost as though you're asking for it, don't you think?"
"No, Michael," Jill gasped, struggling to get out of bed. "I'm sorry I'm late. I couldn't sleep and… just give me a minute to get dressed. I'll have your breakfast ready in a jiffy."
"I've had breakfast already," he grinned, preventing her escape and enjoying her clearly agitated state. "No, don't bother to get up. I've just come up to spank you, then I'll get off to work and you can get up when you're ready. You may prefer to stay in bed for a while to nurse your bottom. Maybe, I should stay and look after it for you."
"No!"
"No," Michael shook his head ruefully, as he let her go and calmly rolled up his other the sleeve. "You're right. That wouldn't do at all. I'm afraid you'll have to nurse it yourself. Now, then, I'm ready, so how about you getting yourself nicely across my knee and presenting that lovely bottom to me."
Jill stared at him aghast as he rubbed his hands together in an altogether disturbingly pleased and expectant manner. Surely, this couldn't be happening. What was wrong with her, for goodness sake? Why had she slept in on this morning of all mornings, after the specific warning he'd given her? She hadn't done it deliberately, no matter what he thought or said. She didn't want to be spanked, no matter how it looked.
"No, Michael," she began again, forcing her voice to stay calm and rational. She had to show him she wasn't playing games. "I slept in by accident. I didn't mean… oh! Michael! No!"
"Purpose. Accident. It doesn't matter to me," Michael interrupted, as he pulled back the bedcovers and without further preliminaries pulled her across his knee. "You're late and you're going to be spanked. End of story. Now be a good girl, keep your bottom still and take your punishment like a big girl. If you struggle and wriggle and carry on, I'll spank you for that as well. So, if you want to save yourself from a second spanking—and I'll use the hairbrush if I have to spank you for being naughty while I'm spanking you for being late, you'd better just be nice and good until I decide you've been spanked enough."
As he lectured her, Michael gently positioned her so she was well forward, then he raised her nightie, tucking it under her tummy so it couldn't fall back down whilst he attended to her bottom. Realizing that escape was hopeless and rebellion pointless, Jill allowed herself only a small sob of dismay and mortification as she felt him begin to slip her panties down.
"Up," he nudged her hip as he felt them catch beneath her. Wordlessly, she raised her right hip, then when they were free that side, she raised her left hip and felt him slip her panties down to her ankles.
"Now, that's better," he said as his hand tantalizingly stroked her waiting mounds. "See how much easier it is when you don't fight? Let's see if you can keep nice and still until where finished then. Now do you know why you're getting this spanking?"
"Yes," Jill whispered, surprising herself by almost adding, "Sir". Must be just the after-effects of the dream, she told herself, tucking away the realization that she might have liked to add the "Sir" so she could bring it out and ponder over it at a more appropriate and less busy time than right now.
"And…" Michael prompted, his hand gently squeezing the pale flesh he was preparing to turn a quite different colour.
"Because I slept in and didn't get up in time to make your breakfast, Sir." This time the word came out, barely above a whisper, audible only to herself, but as it left her lips and caressed her ears, her body shook as though struck by a tiny, personal earth tremor.
&nb
sp; "And do you agree you deserve to be spanked for sleeping in?" Michael's voice had deepened, and was roughened by that gravelly texture Jill had heard before.
"Yes, Sir." This time it was a bit louder and feeling him tighten beneath her, Jill wondered if he'd heard more than the "Yes."
She didn't care. Gripping the bedclothes tightly in her fingers, she buried her face into them and drew her knees up slightly so her bottom was arched up high and ready for Michael's ministrations. Now that she couldn't avoid the spanking, she no longer had to pretend she didn't want him to do it. She still thought it was a dangerous game they were playing. She knew how volatile their relationship could be if they didn't keep it under control, and it was above all imperative they not jeopardise their continuing to look after the farm together until Jack and Elizabeth's return.
Without that consideration, Jill didn't care. She still wanted every bit of Michael she could get. That he would be happy to see her return to the city at the end of the four weeks, that he wouldn't bother to contact her when she did, that he could forget her the moment she left his sight, she was all too painfully aware. But it didn't make it any less painful to deny herself what she could have, nor any more painful to take it.
Except for her bottom, that was, she realized with a jolt as a powerful male hand cracked onto her delicate skin leaving a pink handprint and a reminder of what was to come. She'd been spanked by him enough times now to understand that there are many different types of spanking. There had been the hard, fast spanking at her flat when he'd wanted to punish her but was unable to restrain his impatience to begin making love. There had been the slow, sensual spanking when he held her kneeling on his bed and taught her the difference between pure punishment and pure pleasure. And there had been the very matter-of-fact sessions where he was determined to teach her a lesson she would not easily forget.
This time was different again. She sensed the change although his hard hand continued to rise and fall on her bottom, gradually increasing the sensitivity of her delicate skin until she was gasping with each new crack and having to concentrate to keep still as the pain he was inflicting intensified. He was carrying out his work conscientiously enough, the deepening blush on Jill's nether cheeks attested to his determination to colour both globes a perfectly symmetrical cherry, but Jill could feel that his carefully spaced and positioned spanks had a guarded quality she'd not noticed before. Nor was he scolding her while he spanked as he usually did.
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