Sandcastles

by April Hill

  She had received only one other serious spanking during that time, brought on by an injudicious lie. Gwen had learned that of all the things that angered Joshua Denning, lying to him was the worst, and even a small lie could result in painful retribution.

  “I thought you’d have this finished by today,” he said, leafing through the incomplete story she had promised to proofread and “hand in” that day. “What happened?”

  Gwen played nervously with a pencil. “I did my best. I worked really hard on it all day on it except for a half-hour break for lunch, but nothing creative was happening. You know how it is.”

  He put the pages back down on the desk and picked up the fat detective novel she’d carelessly left on the chair by the window. He turned to the place in the book she’d marked with one of her own story pages and held the book up. “Could this have anything to do with the lack of progress? Page 428, I see. That’s a lot of reading in only a half an hour lunch break.”

  She sighed. “So I’m about to get my butt spanked for simply taking the day off?”

  He tossed the book down. “No. You’re about to get your butt spanked for lying to me and for missing a deadline. If you want to take a day off, then do it, but don’t lie about it. A deadline is just that, and this is the second one you’ve missed this week.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Josh who the hell cares?” she snapped irritably. “Nobody in the fucking universe is ever going to read all this crap anyway. I’m wasting paper.”

  Gwen was about to be reminded once more just how seriously Denning regarded the project he had undertaken on her behalf. School was in session again.

  It was a spanking she’d remember for a long time, made worse by the fact that he used an entirely new implement—a long-handled wooden clothing brush. Worse also because he stacked two cushions on the couch and made her lie down on them with her pants down and her butt raised, which was almost as humiliating and uncomfortable as the spanking was painful. The brush burned and left livid red ovals on each flaming cheek, and despite Gwen’s stubborn vow of silence, she howled lustily after the first swats and tried to escape. Attempting to escape during an earned spanking was something she rarely did, primarily because the attempt always failed and always resulted in an even harder spanking. This time was no different. He held her facedown on the cushions, removed his belt and administered an additional ten swats to already-scorched territory. Gwen wailed and kicked and promised earnestly never to tell another lie, which was, of course, a lie. A lie even she wouldn’t have believed.

  “All right,” he said finally. “You can get up now.”

  Gwen stood up, and for reasons she claimed later not to remember, flipped him the finger when she thought (mistakenly) that his back was turned. Before she could get her pants back up, he had deposited her over the back of the couch, this time shoving her forward until the top of her head touched the seat cushions. When he began again, with his bare hand this time, it wasn’t as hard as before, although Gwen’s blazing ass was in no condition to appreciate this small mercy. She wailed, bucked and pounded her fists on the seat cushions, begging him to stop and promising everything she could think of. When he did stop and when Gwen started to get up, he shook his head.

  “Stay where you are,” he ordered. Exactly like that. For fifteen minutes.”

  “No!” she cried. “You’re being fucking ridiculous! I’m getting up from here, damn it!”

  “If you move a single inch,” he said firmly, “I promise you it’ll be an inch you’ll seriously regret.”

  Gwen gave him the finger again and stood up. And true to his promise, Josh made certain that she regretted it—with the clothes brush again. Harder and lower. Gwen shrieked and promptly surrendered.

  “O-O-W-W-W! All right then! You win, damn it! Just STOP! PLEASE!”

  “Fifteen minutes,” he repeated. Gwen sniffled, nodded and stayed where she was.

  Gwen had never known fifteen minutes to pass so slowly, and as she lay there—immobilized, humiliated and blushing to the roots of her tousled hair—she sniffled miserably and vowed revenge—some other time, maybe.

  * * *

  A week later, when she was in the midst of giving Charlie a much-needed bath, Gwen heard the front doorbell ring. Josh had gone out for the day, and for some moments she didn’t realize that the sound she had barely heard was coming from a doorbell. To her knowledge, no one had come to the front door of the house since she arrived. In her confusion she lost her hold on Charlie, who scrambled frantically out of the tub and skidded out of the bathroom, shaking soapsuds and filthy water everywhere as he made good his escape.

  When she’d dried some of the soap from her arms, Gwen hurried to the front hallway to peer through the curtain. A man was standing on the front porch with his back to her, preparing to leave, she assumed. For one moment Gwen hesitated about opening the door, but feeling that the stranger might have come about something important, she made a hasty decision to speak to whoever it was. She opened the door a crack, and an instant later Paul Ludlow was smiling at her.

  “Miss Walden!” he beamed. “We meet again! How are you, my dear?”

  Gwen wiped her hands on her jeans. “Fine, thank you.” The next words popped unbidden from her lips—a formal and dangerous leftover from her proper upbringing. “Won’t you come in?” She opened the door wide and waved her hand invitingly, like a well-trained Stepford wife, she thought later. Ludlow came inside quickly and glanced around the house with a look of greedy delight. At that moment, Gwen realized with a sinking heart that the man had never set foot inside Joshua Denning’s home before today and that she was going to have to talk very fast when Josh got home to avoid some very hard and well-deserved swats on her rear end. She had invited an intruder into Xanadu!

  Trying not to appear nervous or unduly rude she arranged her hair and indicated her wet clothing while blocking his further progress into the house.

  “John’s not at home now, and I’m very busy, I’m afraid—a mess too! I was bathing the dog when you rang. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Ludlow smiled—an artificial smile that showed too many teeth. “Actually, dear lady, I came to see you.”

  “Me?” Gwen repeated, trying to remember if she’d said anything at their first meeting that would have encouraged Ludlow to show up uninvited—to see her.

  Ludlow grinned broadly and thrust a small object wrapped in lavender tissue into her hand. “I believe you inadvertently left this at the shop. The enchanting little penguin you were kind enough to purchase?”

  Gwen gave him a wan smile. “Of course. I wonder how on earth could I have forgotten? Thank you so much for bringing him by. I’m sorry John isn’t here to .…”

  He glanced around the hallway again leaning first one way and then the other, obviously trying for a better view into the living room.

  “Perhaps I could wait for John? I have something extremely important to discuss with him. I could just wait in the living room, perhaps, or on the deck, so I won’t be in your way?”

  “Well he may be quite a long while.” she began. “I don’t know exactly.”

  “No matter, it’s a lovely day, and I’ve nothing else to do. Nothing at all. Please do go on with what you were doing, Miss Walden. May it never be said that Paul Ludlow made a bother of himself.” He turned and moved down the hall toward the living room. “I’ll just find a chair and sit quiet as a mouse until John arrives. Now when was it you were expecting him again?”

  Gwen was beaten. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked. “That’s right, Gwen,” she groaned to herself. “Offer the enemy at the gates some damned refreshments.”

  She sat on the deck, drinking stale coffee and trying to divert Ludlow’s eyes from wandering, checking out the living room and the den just beyond. Then a crisis arose that she was utterly helpless to avoid.

  “Might I use your bathroom, please?”

  It was not the sort of request that a person could deny, so Gwen p
ointed in the proper direction and fought the urge to follow him down the hall and into the guest bathroom. It was with mixed emotions that she heard the Jeep pull into the driveway. Seconds later, Josh opened the front door and Gwen hurried into the hall to intercept him.

  “Please promise not to strangle me,” she whispered, “but Paul Ludlow is here.”

  “Here!” he exploded furiously. “Why in the name of God did you let him?”

  “I couldn’t help it,” she hissed. “He just barged in.”

  He looked past her into the living room. “Where is he?”

  “In the hall bathroom,” Gwen replied, miserably. “I’m sorry, Josh I tried but....”

  Ludlow emerged from the bathroom and looked furtively about for a moment. Gwen could have sworn she saw him take a step toward the open den before he noticed the two of them waiting in the hallway.

  “Paul” Josh said between gritted teeth. “What brings you all the way out here?”

  “Well, John I’ll tell you. My original purpose was to bring Miss Walden’s purchase to her.”

  “Purchase?” Josh repeated, glancing at Gwen.

  She showed him the penguin.

  Ludlow winked. “Actually, John, I believe this charming lady bought it as a surprise for you!”

  Still bewildered, Josh turned the penguin over in his hands.

  “You bought me a wooden cement truck?”

  Gwen made a face. “It’s a fucking penguin, for God’s sake,” she hissed. “Or a dolphin maybe. Turn it the other way.”

  Paul Ludlow frowned, obviously grievously disappointed by Gwen’s double blasphemies.

  Josh handed the dolphin/ferryboat/penguin/cement mixer back to Gwen and turned to Ludlow. Who was already explaining his unannounced visit.

  “After I spoke with Miss Walden, here? We chatted the other day at Wynnie’s shop, you see, about her wish to acquire one of Susannah’s paintings. She expressed such a strong interest in acquiring a painting similar to the one her friend had purchased, so I stopped by to see if you’ve been able to find one for her. And I must confess to ask you yet again if you’d reconsider putting a few of Susannah’s remaining works with me—in my new gallery in the city? I do hate to be a pest, but it would be a dreadful shame to simply let all those lovely paintings go to waste and not be appreciated by appreciative art patrons—don’t you agree, Miss Walden? What was the subject matter of your friend’s canvas, by the way? I don’t believe we ever discussed that, did we? Was it one of Susannah’s exquisite seascapes?”

  Gwen nodded miserably. “Yes, it was a seascape, I think.”

  “Well then, your friend was a indeed a very lucky lady. Susannah Channing’s seascapes are simply stunning! You know it’s actually quite possible your friend purchased her painting at my own gallery. What was your friend’s name, now?”

  Behind Ludlow Josh stood with his fists clenched and Gwen could see his face darkening by the moment.

  “Mudd,” Gwen said, weakly. “Her name was Miss Mudd.”

  Ludlow shook his balding head. “I don’t remember a customer by that name, but of course Susannah’s work was carried by several excellent galleries besides my own. So John, please tell me you’ve changed your mind! Susannah told me she had completed a large number of excellent canvases before... I’m sorry, before that terrible summer. Are you absolutely positive that you wouldn’t like to....”

  “Positive, Paul. I sent most of them to her family, actually, and I’m certain they wouldn’t be interested in selling any of her final work. You can understand that, I imagine?”

  Ludlow frowned. “Well, I suppose, but it does seem a shame.”

  Gwen moved quickly. “I’ll just show you out, Mr. Ludlow. I hate to rush you, but I’m afraid we have an important appointment this afternoon.”

  Paul Ludlow looked at her with suspicion, but said nothing. “Of course. Perhaps another time?”

  Gwen nodded and ushered him to the front door. After she closed the door, she watched through the curtain while Ludlow walked slowly to his car, taking in everything he could. When he drove away up the hill, she leaned her head against the door and sighed with relief. It took her several moments before she gathered the energy and the will to return to the living room to face Josh.

  “I couldn’t help it, Josh,” she groaned. “I just couldn’t.”

  Josh swore. “I know. The man’s a goddamned leech. Susannah despised him and his idiot sister.”

  “So we don’t have an ‘appointment’ like I told Ludlow?” she asked a bit nervously.

  “Appointment?” he repeated. “Oh, I see.” Josh smiled and kissed her lightly. “No, I can’t paddle you for being snookered by someone as obnoxious and pushy as Paul Ludlow. Next time, though, bring Will and Ben in and get them barking in front of the door. That usually discourages most visitors.”

  Gwen gave another sigh of relief.

  “However,” Josh continued, taking her hand and leading her into the den. “There’s still the small multi-layered matter of your continued snooping, lying to me and bringing that oily son-of-a-bitch down on us in the first place. Drop your pants and bend over the desk,” he said handing her a cushion. “You may as well get comfortable. We’re going to be here for a while.”

  With a groan, Gwen obeyed, slipping the chair cushion beneath her stomach as she leaned over the end of the desk and waited for the ruler to make its appearance. Instead he pulled forth the dreaded new wooden paddle and gave her bared right cheek a quick test whack. Gwen gritted her teeth and made herself the same promise she routinely made—not to make a sound and not to plead with him to stop—promises she usually broke after the first thirty seconds, if not sooner.

  He sat on the desk next to her with one arm around her waist to keep her in place and smacked first one cheek and then the other until she began to squirm and then to hop from foot to foot at which point he tightened his grip and pulled her across his lap, so that all she could do was kick uselessly as he increased the tempo of the smacks. Gwen clenched her cheeks in a futile effort to alleviate the sting and paid for it when he opened her legs and dealt several smarting swats to her inner thighs with the agile little paddle.

  At this point, Gwen surrendered and howled for Josh to stop. The paddle had won. But Josh wasn’t quite finished—or convinced. When surrender came that easily, he’d found it wasn’t always sincere. What Josh wanted was a clear message about who was in charge and who wasn’t. Pulling her across his hip he delivered that message with a blazing storm of quick hard swats to the direct center of Gwen’s squirming backside. Gwen’s reaction was swift and loud. Awakened by her screech, Charlie wandered into the den watched for a moment with only mild interest, then yawned and went back to the living room to resume his nap.

  “All right now,” Josh said, putting her back on her feet. “If we’re done here, I’m going to bed. I’m damned exhausted. The next time I catch you snooping, I’m going to give you a real spanking, and the next time you lie to me I’ll have to come up with something truly bizarre. This is obviously not working.”

  “Too bad houses in California don’t have basements,” Gwen growled. “You could install a dungeon!” She pulled her clothing up and marched from the room, sniffling. “I’ll be sleeping in my own room tonight, if it’s all the same to you,” she muttered. “Before I say goodnight, though, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear.”

  Denning smiled. “Yes?”

  “You were possibly within your rights as per our agreement for what you just did, and I choose not to hold it against you despite the fact that you obviously found the entire episode amusing. I would appreciate it, however, if you could manage not to smirk while you’re doing it!”

  “Was I smirking?”

  “You were definitely smirking.”

  “So you don’t want to sleep upstairs tonight?”

  “It would do you very little good, since I will be of no use in that way for at least two to three days.”

  He smiled again
. “We’ll see,” he said.

  Denning swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs. She struggled briefly, but surrendered when he began to undress her—a sincere surrender this time, since she was doing everything she could to hurry the process along. With that accomplished, he undressed and then threw a large pillow down on the edge of the bed. Very gently he arranged her on her back across the pillow’s plump soft center with her legs hanging over the edge.

  Gwen giggled. “Back or front, Josh, it’s all the same. It hurts!”

  “We’ll see,” he said again, spreading her legs and kneeling on the floor between them. A moment later she felt his fingers opening her, his breath warm on her skin as he explored the exquisitely sensitive center of her with his lips and tongue. Gwen moaned softly, allowing her legs to fall open, and he kissed the insides of each thigh and then lowered his head between her legs, probing deeper. She began to groan with pleasure and stretched her arms above her head, gripping handfuls of the rumpled bedspread as she gave herself over to the incredible sensation of his tongue caressing the bud of her throbbing clitoris.

  Slipping both hands beneath her, Josh lifted her to him, his mouth more insistent. When he touched her still tender buttocks, Gwen flinched, but the slight pain seemed far away as she raised her hips from the pillow, encouraging him to enter her before … but then suddenly it was too late. Gwen’s groans became louder, and helpless to delay it any further, she threw her head back and surrendered to her own selfishly ecstatic orgasm.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, as he climbed into bed next to her. “That’s what comes of being too good at your job, I guess.”

  Josh pulled her closer, enjoying the feeling of the subsiding tremors of her body in his arms. Still moaning softly, Gwen slipped her arms weakly around his neck and kissed a spot on his neck just beneath his chin.