Red Skye at Night

by Ashe Barker

  “Thank you, Sir. Aagh!”

  He slaps my right buttock, hard and sharp. It hurts, really hurts. I hadn’t expected it to be so…severe. He means it, and this scares me, particularly following so hard on the heels of our easy intimacy just moments earlier. I clench, confused and shaking as I await the next. The second swat lands on my left cheek. It’s every bit as hard, and I cry out again.

  Fuck, why didn’t I just keep my clever mouth shut? This is horrible.

  The third and fourth strokes are delivered in quick succession. It seems he really does have things to do and wants to get this out of the way. By the time he’s landed five and six I’m sobbing and wriggling, but he secures me in place by hooking his leg over both of mine and placing a solid hand in the small of my back, He says nothing, just continues to mete out the discipline I deserve. I’m in agony, but it never occurs to me to use my safe word.

  By the time he reaches the tenth spank and releases me from his hold I’m past struggling. I lie across his lap weeping softly. My bottom is smarting, my whole body is shaking. But my all-consuming reaction is one of absolute mortification that I so displeased him, that I made him angry enough with me to do this, without intending to. This came out of nowhere, and could so easily happen again. And again. And again. I try apologizing once more.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it—I was just, just…”

  Harry lifts me from his lap, cuddles me into his chest. “Hey, baby, it’s done now. We’re fine.”

  “We’re not. You’re so angry with me.”

  “No, I’m not. You were rude and sassy. A bit of a brat. I dealt with it. You’ve learnt your lesson, yes?”

  I nod, sniveling like a toddler as I cling to his chest.

  “So it’s over. No hard feelings.”

  I sniff into his pecs, not quite able to believe it’s so simple. No sulking, no toxic, angry atmosphere. No further recriminations. Dealt with. Gone. I peep up at Harry, not sure what emotions I expect to see reflected in his face.

  He grins at me, his expression open, friendly and warm. “Feeling better now?”

  I nod, tremulous.

  “Good. We can cuddle some more, then when you’re ready, I promised you a breakfast.”

  Cuddles compensate for spanks every time, however heavy-handed he might be. I snuggle in, loving the feel of his arms around me. My bum still smarts like crazy, but even that seems sort of comforting now. My emotions are still all over the place, but they are shifting, settling. I feel oddly cleansed by what just happened, refreshed, our relationship replenished. At last I tip my face up to look at him.

  “I’m ready.” I manage a small smile to go with my words.

  Harry kisses my forehead. “Okay. Daisy’s gonna want to go outside. I’ll see to her while you go get a shower. Then I’ll pack our stuff ready to check out. We can find a café in town. And hopefully a vet, too.”

  He helps me to my feet, drops another quick kiss on my head, then reaches for his jeans. Our day has well and truly begun.

  Chapter Eleven

  I seat myself, still somewhat gingerly, in the passenger seat of my car. I’m not sure how long Harry will be. He managed to get an appointment with a vet and I dropped him and Daisy off there. She did not look enthusiastic to me.

  We agreed that while Harry dealt with Daisy’s check-up I’d head into Aviemore town center, just a short walk, and buy in some supplies. I found a sweet little bread shop where I stocked up on sandwiches and savories for us. We’re intending to make the trip to Thurso non-stop so we need things we can snack on in the car. I also found a pet shop so managed to buy a collar and lead, and some more dried dog food. There’s probably more stuff we need but I’ve never owned a dog, so I’m not sure.

  I turn on the radio and settle back to listen to some local broadcast, advertising interspersed with the predictable top twenty pop. It’s okay, I suppose, as wallpaper music goes. I check my watch—ten thirty-five. I dropped Harry off a little before ten so he could be back any time now. I find I’m watching for him eagerly, constantly checking in the rear-view mirror for his tall form. I’ll be able to spot him a mile off—no one looks or moves quite like Harry. My Harry. My Sir.

  I tell myself I’m just keen to get on our way, but it’s more than that. I miss him, I miss his presence, his voice. His touch. I need him to be here.

  My attachment to Harry was strengthened by what happened this morning. Something fell into place, solidified for me. It started with the strange conversation he dragged out of me before he fucked me, but more particularly I know I’m still reacting to the spanking afterwards. His discipline, my acceptance of it, and the aftercare made for a heady concoction. I could so easily become addicted to that. Then what will I do?

  I spot him, strolling through the entrance to the car park, Daisy trotting along beside him, still attached to the telephone cable lead I improvised for her. I open the car door and jump out, ignoring the soreness in my still tender bum as I dash across the tarmac to meet them. Harry loops his free arm around me and I hug him hard.

  “Hey, nice welcome, babe. You all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Really. I missed you.” I glance down at Daisy, who also seems pleased to see me. Her little skinny tail is flapping around madly, but she still manages to find an extra gear when I crouch down to tickle her ears. “Did she get a clean bill of health then?”

  “Yes, pretty much. Under-nourished, but then we knew that already. Nothing else to worry about, though. She just needs decent food and some TLC.”

  I stand up and we make our way back to the car. Daisy leaps into the rear seat. I get in on the passenger side. Harry gets into the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the engine straight away.

  “How did you do on getting supplies?”

  “Good, I think. Sandwiches for us, some cartons of juice. I hope that’s all right—I don’t much like fizzy drinks.” I shoot a nervous glance his way, not sure suddenly if I might have screwed up again. Maybe Harry likes Coke. He sees my expression, reaches out to cup my jaw in his hand.

  “I know that look. Honey, you need to understand something. I disciplined you this morning because you sassed me during a scene. I accept I was harsh—I had a point to make. But when we’re not scening, we’re just like any other couple, you can talk to me how you like, within reason. Respect is a given, and I’d prefer you to call me Sir when we’re alone. But you won’t be punished for buying the wrong drinks or any other trivial thing. If discipline’s on the cards, I’ll let you know. I’m a Dom—I expect obedience, honesty, absolute respect. But I’m not volatile, nor am I vindictive. You will always know where you stand with me. And remember, there’s a big difference between hurting and harming. I’ll never harm you. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

  I stare at him, my pussy dampening just at the tone of his voice. We may not be in a scene right now, as he terms it, but he’s all Dom even so. My inner submissive is trembling with excitement. I already want him, and we’ve over a hundred miles to cover before we find our next bed. How am I going to cope?

  Harry’s expression is amused, knowing. He shakes his head as he grins at me. “Your slutty nature is one of your most attractive features, Hope. It’ll give you away every time. Would it help if I was to describe what I intend to do to you later, when we reach Thurso?”

  “I’m not sure it would, Sir. But I’d like to know anyway.”

  “Right, I’ll tell you en route. Meanwhile, though, and just so’s we’re clear, whenever we’re in a scene, a punishment will always be a possibility. But not otherwise. You can lose the scared rabbit look.”

  I nod, my acceptance unquestioning. Harry starts the engine.

  “Did the vet say anything else about Daisy? Did he know what sort of dog she is? What breed, I mean?” We’re maybe half an hour out of Aviemore, and my mind has settled on more mundane matters. For now.

  “Yeah, he thought half border collie and maybe the other half Labrador. The chocolate-colored
type.”

  I glance at Harry, slightly surprised. “Oh. Labradors are quite big, aren’t they?” I’m thinking of the guide dogs I’ve seen. Those are usually Labradors, I think. Daisy doesn’t quite look the part.

  “That’s right. She’s got a bit of growing to do yet. He thought she was young, though—no more than four months—so nowhere near fully grown.”

  I peer over the back of my seat at the lady in question, curled in a ball on my car blanket, her usual posture when we’re in motion. “Poor baby. I wonder how long she was alone up on the hills.”

  “Probably not that long. The vet spotted abrasions on her paws, fairly fresh. He thought they could have been caused when she was dropped from a moving car. He estimated four or five days ago.”

  Despite having suspected that this could be the case, I’m still shocked at the callousness of her previous owner. If they couldn’t keep her, what would have been wrong with taking her to the RSPCA, for heaven’s sake? There was no need to just abandon her. I turn back to Harry, indignant now on Daisy’s behalf. “Oh, so if he’s right, that means she was dumped on purpose then. That’s awful. How was she supposed to survive on her own up there?”

  “She wouldn’t have. Sooner or later she’d have likely been shot by some farmer, if she didn’t starve to death first.”

  “I take it we’re not making any attempt to reunite her with her previous owner?”

  “No.”

  I look at Daisy again, the very picture of contentment now. Abrasions or not, she landed on her paws when she was thrown from that car. She can without doubt consider herself re-homed. Pity I can’t say the same for myself.

  The final leg of our journey across Scotland passes without incident. We stop a couple of times to exercise Daisy and deal with our own comfort, but mostly we just take it in turns to drive and to eat, and we keep going. The more dramatic scenery of the Highlands is behind us now and the landscape has leveled out. It’s still beautiful, still scenic, but similar in appearance to my own native West Yorkshire. The moors are covered in heather and bracken, a kaleidoscope of color at this time of year. The purples, the browns, the golds rippling as the wind sweeps across the open vista and mingling with the grasses in all shades of green. I can see why the Scots chose the thistle as their national emblem—they are everywhere, tall, prickly, their vibrant purple flowers swaying in the breeze.

  The windswept, rolling hills are sprinkled with the curious long, low buildings that I now understand are the remains of crofts. A peculiarly Scottish tradition, these were a sort of hybrid between smallholding and tenant farm. Some seem still to be occupied, though perhaps as holiday lets these days. Often, though, the old, original buildings are simply left to decay in a field close to another bungalow, as though the owners just decided to construct a new, modern home and never quite got around to clearing away the old.

  We spot the occasional Highland cow, distinctive with their long, woolly brown coats and majestic horns, though these are vastly outnumbered by the black Aberdeen Angus cattle. And everywhere sheep. Countless sheep, often ambling along the edge of the road, quite unconcerned by the traffic. They make me nervous—give me the suicidal pedestrians of Leeds any time, they are much more predictable. At least I know they’re likely to be idiots.

  The miles slip past us, and we lapse into long, companionable silences. When I’m not driving, I sleep or gaze out at the magnificent views. Harry mostly spends his downtime on his iPad. I assume a lot of what he’s doing is business correspondence, though I don’t ask. By mid-afternoon we are about thirty miles from Thurso. Harry has just taken the wheel again for the last part of the journey. I settle happily into my seat, contemplating another little nap.

  “Jill emailed to confirm our accommodation for tonight. She’s booked us into another country park place. This time it’s a converted water mill, in the grounds of a hotel.” Harry’s tone is matter-of-fact as he imparts the latest update on our itinerary.

  “What about Daisy?”

  “She’s allowed in, though Jill had to pay an up-front deposit of two hundred dollars in case she chews the furniture.”

  “She won’t do anything like that, I’m sure.”

  Daisy is sitting up, looking out at the passing scenery. She gives the impression that butter wouldn’t melt.

  “No. You might, though, when I clamp your nipples. I think we may need a gag too, out of consideration for the other guests. What I have in mind won’t be quiet. We’ll have to see how isolated the mill is.”

  “What?” All thoughts of a gentle snooze are abandoned. I turn to gape at him.

  Harry never takes his eyes from the road ahead. “I promised to describe my plans for you. Later, after dinner, you’ll strip for me and kneel at my feet. I’m thinking you could suck my cock before I gag you. I’ve been imagining how your mouth will feel stretched around my dick. I’m minded to find out.”

  “I see, Sir.” So far so good. This sounds like it could shape up into a fun evening, though I’m not entirely convinced by the nipple clamps.

  Harry continues his explanation, homing in on my areas of vulnerability. How does he know? How does he always know? “I’ll be squeezing your nipples until they swell and go hard for me—shouldn’t take long, I expect—then I’ll clamp them.”

  “How? I mean, what will you use?” My voice is only slightly shaky, an indication, I suppose, that I’m adjusting to this new reality.

  “I can improvise something very effective with the hairgrips I picked up in that pharmacy. If the minibar has an ice box—which it should do, the price this place is charging—I’m considering introducing you to the delights of ice play. You recall I did mention that yesterday?”

  I nod. He did indeed promise to shove an ice cube into my pussy or something along those lines. It sounds horrendous. My cunt is spasming in utter joy.

  Harry continues, “Alternatively, I haven’t taken my belt to you yet. I’d love to see your butt striped from a decent thrashing. What do you think, Hope?”

  “I think I’d prefer the ice, Sir.”

  “Right, my belt it is then. Or maybe we could manage both. We’ll see.”

  “I see. May I ask, Sir, what I did wrong? To deserve your belt?”

  Now he does glance in my direction. “Nothing, honey. This won’t be a punishment beating. This will be pure eroticism the way I plan to do it. It’ll hurt, but you’ll love it. Probably. Maybe.” He shrugs, his smile deliciously wicked. “Tell me afterwards.”

  Harry’s calm is infectious. I’m amazed at how settled I feel as I contemplate his plans for me. I trust Harry, it’s that simple. He said he won’t harm me and I believe him.

  “Very well, Sir.” I settle back into my seat, not entirely relaxed, but still I manage to drift off to sleep.

  * * * *

  The mill is totally isolated, set in beautiful woodland at the edge of the River Foss. The sound of a waterfall can be heard as soon as we get out of the car. The mill itself is hidden away in a stand of trees, the setting quite idyllic.

  “Wow, this place is fabulous.” I’m wonderstruck, taking in my surroundings. Jill has outdone herself.

  “Yeah, it’ll do.” Harry strolls up to the main door and unlocks it with the key he picked up from the hotel main reception, at least half an hour’s walk away though only a couple of minutes in my car. I suspect there’ll be no requirement for a gag tonight, unless Harry decides on it anyway. I hope not, though by now I’ve come to realize I have no real say in that. Daisy and I follow him inside.

  The place is huge, far too big just for the three of us. As we wander around, I count three large double bedrooms, one with a massive four-poster bed. I already know Harry has a fondness for those—it’s clear which room we’ll occupy. The rest of the accommodation consists of an open plan living and dining area, an industrial size kitchen, utility room and a games room with a full-size snooker table. The bathroom alone must cover half an acre, and comes complete with sauna, Jacuzzi and a massage table. Har
ry seems particularly interested in the complimentary oils.

  Our indoor explorations complete, we make our way back outside, Daisy bouncing happily around our legs. Harry picks up a stick and throws it. She charges off into the undergrowth, before returning a few seconds later, a puzzled look on her face and no stick. We stroll on, along a narrow, overgrown path through the deep woodland, repeating the game every few yards. We’re headed in the direction of the waterfall. The sound of the water grows louder as we get close. We round a bend in the path and there it is, a tall, narrow cascade of sparkling, cool water, tumbling into a clear pool at the foot of a sheer stone drop.

  “Holy shit, this is some place.” Harry’s low-breathed curse is almost lost in the roar of the waterfall.

  I just stand, again staring, lost in the magic of this glorious setting. Harry is the first to recover. “Strip, Hope.”

  He’s already starting to undress, pulling his T-shirt over his head. I hesitate for barely a moment before following suit. Within half a minute we’re both naked and plunging into the pool.

  “Christ, that’s fucking freezing.” I tread water furiously, rigid from the shock of the chilly water.

  Harry surfaces next to me, shaking his wet hair back from his face. “Shit, yes. It’s good, though.” He glances back to the side of the pool where Daisy is pacing anxiously. “Come on in, Daisy. You’ll like it.”

  “If she’s any sense, she’ll stay where she is,” I mutter, seriously contemplating rejoining her on dry land. I turn and start to make for the edge.

  “Oh no you don’t. If Daisy’s staying there I get to fuck you, in here. No, better still, under the waterfall. Come on.”

  “No way.” The falls are stunning to look at, but actually to go underneath? I think not.

  Harry has other ideas. He grabs my hand and starts towing me across the pool. I try to pull my hand away, but one lift of those Dom eyebrows quashes any resistance. I float after him, the perfect submissive as he pulls me around the edge of the falling torrent and into the relatively dry area between the water and the rock face. It’s shallower here, and right up against the rock the water level only comes to mid-thigh on Harry. He picks me up, his hands at my waist, and positions me with my back to the rock. It’s cold, but smooth against my shoulder blades. Even though I know exactly what he’s about to do, I still gasp as he lifts me, pins me against the rock, and drives his cock into me.