Milestones

by Hensley, Alta

  “And then she gave it one star. One star? Besides, Jill was responsible for the proofreading so the complaints about the editing are on her and not me.” Melinda sneered at Jill. “Seriously, I asked you for help and this is the best you could do?”

  Owen felt the heat rising in his face and glanced at his wife to see that hers had paled. He knew she had spent hours attempting to correct the errors in her sister’s book, but that when she had sent it off to her sister, Melinda had rejected almost all of her suggestions.

  “Who would write such a thing?” Owen’s mother-in-law asked.

  “Her name is Marie Robinson.”

  Owen nearly choked on his beer.

  His sister-in-law continued, “I looked her up on Amazon and not only is she an author of hateful reviews, but she writes the most appalling books. She calls them ‘erotic spanking romances’ but I call them sick.”

  Owen glanced at his wife who had gone completely pale, though she managed to find her voice and say “Who are you to judge? Didn’t you read that erotic BDSM book that came out a couple years ago?”

  “That was a bestseller. Everyone was reading it. This woman is clearly just a wannabe.”

  “How do you know that? Did you buy one of her books?”

  Melinda paused and studied her sister. “Why are you defending her?” Then her eyes narrowed. “I almost thought it might be you. Marie is your middle name and Robinson is mom’s maiden name. Hardly a coincidence.”

  “Me?” Jill said and Owen was impressed by her acting ability. “You think I write erotica?”

  “Well, I did consider it for a moment, but then I realized that with your pattern of never finishing the things you start, I could not imagine that you’d ever write a book to completion. Not everyone has my natural ability as a writer.”

  Owen concentrated on calming his breathing and hoped his face returned to a normal pallor. He moved toward his wife with the intention of getting them out of there before things got any worse.

  “I did look at that bitch’s blog, though. She thinks she’s so clever, writing mean reviews just because my book wasn’t filthy and disgusting. She says she’s a mom who lives a ‘domestic discipline’ lifestyle, whatever that is.”

  “I’m sure this isn’t the type of thing we want to be discussing with the children nearby,” Owen said.

  “Oh, they can’t hear us. But, you’re right. I can’t believe that woman has kids and writes such slime.”

  “Imagine if she belonged to the PTA?” Jill said and Owen could see that his wife had gone from petrified to pissed off. Disaster approached at warp speed.

  “When did you become such a defender of the depraved?” Melinda said, leaning toward Jill. “Besides, I noticed that you haven’t written a review of my book yet.” The tone of the party had gotten decidedly tense and Owen knew he had to do something right away.

  He tapped his wife on the shoulder and said, “Looks like it’s time we headed home, honey.” But she ignored him and glared at her sister.

  “Why should I bother when you’ve already got all your pals writing giddy reviews for you? What could I possibly add?”

  “You’re just jealous. I knew you would be. You’ve always been jealous of me.”

  Chapter Six

  “Mommy, that was pretty funny when you and Aunt Melinda were wrestling,” Jonah said from the backseat.

  Jill’s eyes met her husband’s in the rear view mirror. “Yes, Aunt Melinda and I were having lots of fun,” she said, surreptitiously turning on the seat warmer in hopes of some relief for her sore back.

  “Aunt Melinda’s shirt had a big tear in it. She should be more careful,” Sarah piped up to join the conversation her older brother had started.

  “Aunt Melinda said she wrote a book. Can I read it?” Jonah asked.

  “I think Aunt Melinda’s book is more for grown-ups,” Jill said.

  “I asked and she said there aren’t any pictures in it either,” Jonah said. “Who reads books like that?”

  “I’m sure we’re all tired after our day at grandma’s,” Owen said. “Let’s have some quiet time now.”

  Soon the kids fell asleep in the backseat. Jill closed her eyes and tried to relax, but the scene kept playing itself out over and over in her mind. How could she have acted that way? She had totally lost her cool and let her sister get under her skin.

  What was worse was that now that her sister had found her blog, she couldn’t write a post about it.

  That bitch really did ruin everything.

  And based upon the look in Owen’s eye when they finally left the party, she could expect a spanking in her very near future.

  Crazy as it sounded, she sort of felt like she needed one. She knew she deserved it. Writing that mean review was petty and she should have deleted it, but it just felt so darned good to tell the truth, even if she had to do it behind a pen name.

  ****

  Owen glanced over at Jill in the passenger seat. With her eyes closed, she looked so angelic, which was dramatically different from the hellcat she’d been an hour before when she and her sister had wrangled all over the deck of their mother’s house.

  To be honest, he was proud of her. For years her older sister had goaded and taunted her over every little thing. It was really only a matter of time before something like this happened. He just wished it had been over something other than writing.

  Although he hadn’t read many of his wife’s books, that schoolmaster story he’d found on her computer when she’d left the browser open was hot. And it was a good story. Had to be since he found himself thinking about it over and over, wondering how it ended.

  Regardless, his wife had behaved badly. She ought not to have written that review. She’d had plenty of opportunities to reconsider her choice to write and then publish the review. After it was written she could have deleted it. She did none of those things. It wasn’t the sort of behavior that he condoned, regardless of whether her sister deserved it or not.

  And then there was the fight, an honest to goodness knock-down-drag-out-hair-pulling-name-calling-fiasco. The kids had seen it, too.

  Although Melinda outweighed Jill by around thirty pounds and had a couple inches in height on her, Jill had acquitted herself quite well. He chuckled and then covered it with a cough in case any of his passengers might have noticed.

  This was one of those times that being the head of household weighed on him. He knew what he wanted to do—have a beer and a good laugh over the whole thing. He knew what he should do—turn her over his knee and explain the importance of proper deportment.

  ****

  “I know you’d like to suck my cock,” Owen, in full schoolmaster mode, said. “But there is still the matter of your punishment to be resolved before I even consider allowing you such liberties with my person.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jill, the repentant student said, her upper body pressed firmly against the cool surface of the desk. “I have been very naughty and I deserve to be punished.”

  “You most certainly do,” he said as he stroked the tip of the rod down the back of her left leg. “Explain to me why you are being punished.”

  “I got into a fight with my sister,” Jill said. She really did feel horrible about it, but being spread across the desk while wearing a short plaid skirt, white blouse and knee socks was almost too delicious to bear. How could this be punishment?

  “Hmmm,” Owen said from behind her where he wielded the rod along the tender flesh of her inner thigh. “That is hardly lady-like behavior, is it?”

  “No, sir.” Jill thought she might explode right there on the desk. Writing about this sort of scene always got her hot, but living it was combustible.

  “What happens to naughty girls when they do not behave like proper ladies?”

  The rod prodded the underside of her buttocks and Jill gasped before replying, “They get sp-spanked.”

  “That’s correct.” The rod inched along the crease of her bottom cheeks. “Why do they g
et spanked?”

  “Naughty girls get spanked because they need it.” Oh god, did she need it. She needed a spanking and a whole lot more. She licked her lips and rose up on her tip toes in preparation for the first swat, though she had no idea when it would land.

  “Why did you fight with your sister?” Owen was now tapping a gentle cadence against her ass with the tip of the birch rod.

  “Because she’s a selfish, self-centered, narcissistic bitch.”

  The rod swished through the air and landed across her butt with a stinging lash. Jill gasped.

  “Try again.”

  “Because I need to have more patience and learn to keep some of my opinions to myself.”

  “Good girl,” Owen said and the birch rod tapped a lazy circle around the perimeter of her left cheek.

  “Since Melinda doesn’t know that you’re a professional writer, is it reasonable to assume she’d treat you like one?”

  “No,” Jill said. He was right. She hated it when reality intruded on her righteous indignation.

  “So when she wrote a book and made a big deal about it, it was only natural for her to expect you to be excited for her.”

  “She wouldn’t be excited for me if it was the other way around.”

  Whoosh. The rod made another smarting lash across both cheeks of her ass. A squeak of protest slipped from Jill’s lips.

  “No matter how she might act, I should still behave with dignity,” Jill corrected.

  “Good answer,” Owen said and stroked his fingers across the two red lines Jill could feel forming on her backside. She pressed back toward his hand, hoping he’d move his fingers lower.

  She received a firm swat instead. “You’ll keep that naughty bottom in place until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I understand that your children saw you engaged in a physical altercation with your own sister, is that correct?”

  “Yes.” She still could not believe she had done that.

  “I also understand that two days ago both of your children were banned from watching television because they were fighting. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” she spoke through gritted teeth as the rod laid down a stripe on her thighs.

  “Is that the proper sort of behavior for a mother?”

  It is when her sister’s a mean bitch.

  “No.”

  “Do you believe you are properly repentant?”

  Damn. She wanted to say yes because if she did, the punishment would be over. But she also knew she was still mad as hell at her sister.

  “It’s just not fair,” she said. “I work hard and no one knows. They all think I just sit around watching talk shows all day, but I’m really a good writer and lots of people like my books.”

  “Is it your sister’s fault you can’t share that information freely?”

  “Well, not exactly, though people like her are the ones who make it difficult for people like me.”

  “Is public opinion about the types of books you write new information to you?”

  “No.”

  “So again, is it your sister’s fault that you can’t be public about what you write?” Two rapid swats from the rod prodded her to respond.

  Jill sighed. “No. I guess not.”

  “Guess?” The rod stung her thighs and she squirmed with pain. “Hold still and answer the question.” The rod enforced Owen’s order.

  “It’s not her fault.” Jill was surprised that she was not as angry as she might have expected at making such an admission.

  “Good girl,” Owen said. He laid the rod on the desk and lifted Jill into his arms then settled onto the sofa with her on his lap. She snuggled close to him and buried her face in his chest.

  After a few minutes of quiet communing with her husband, Jill lifted her face and said, “I’d still like to give you a blow job, sir.”

  ****

  “I was on Amazon this morning,” Owen said as he brought Jill a cup of coffee. “Looks like Lacy and the Schoolmaster is doing really well.”

  Jill grinned up at him. “Thank you, dear. You know, I had no idea how to finish that story, but I think your inspiration really made a difference.”

  “I’m always willing to do my part to support good literature.”

  “Or good spanking.”

  The First Submission

  By Anastasia Vitsky

  “The First Submission” takes place approximately fifteen years before the events of Becoming Clissine: Bastia, Book One.

  Cast of Characters

  House of Tan

  Dis Tanatha

  Nur Gritel

  Karie/Karielle

  House of Nov

  Dis Novia

  Nur Rhealle

  Sori/Soris

  Fathille: Head of the Bastil (predecessor to Althea)

  Glossary

  Bastil: Governing council of Basti, made up of twelve high-ranking men and women

  Basti: The deity of Bastia. Female

  Bastia: The country in which “The First Submission” takes place

  Bastian: A resident of Bastia and a worshipper of Basti

  Dis: The disciplinarian parent and the dominant partner in the Mar

  First Responders: Emergency security force in Bastia

  Mar: Ceremony joining a Dis and Nur for life

  Nuevet: Trainee for the First Responders

  Nur: The nurturer parent and the subordinate partner in the Mar

  Pre: Ceremony presenting a new couple to the Bastil after a period of adjustment

  Ria: Male equivalent of the Mar

  Squivet: Privileged trainee for the First Responders

  Chapter One

  “Where is she? Can’t legal scholars tell time?” The lean lines of Karie’s frame stretched taut, an archer marking her target. Dark curls shook with each syllable. “I missed a recruiting session to be stood up?”

  The broad-shouldered woman shrugged from across the table. “Sori’s research on the third article of the Orthodoxy will change generations of faith. Her work will redefine what it means to be a citizen of Bastia. She—”

  Petite and soft-spoken, the woman to her right leaned forward. “We apologize, Dis Tanatha.” The honorific “Dis” coated the tense air with the softness of melting butter. “Sori told us she would come from her lab. She must be delayed by work.”

  Karie jiggled her feet against the table leg. Few adults used “Dis” as an address, and Nur Rhealle’s unexpected deference failed to calm her the way it did her parents. She shifted to the edge of her chair, and the skirts of her peacock blue dress rustled underneath the tablecloth. Her Dis’ fingers tapped warningly against her knee.

  “We understand, Dis Novia, and we apologize for our daughter’s bluntness. She yearns, naturally, to meet her future Dis.” Another tap, so slight as to be imperceptible across the table. “Don’t you, Karie?”

  Dis Novia. Dis Tanatha. The formality grated on Karie’s nerves, already frayed by twenty-five minutes of stilted, banal conversation in the absence of its main character.

  “Y-yes,” Karie stammered, longing to jump from her seat and return to her comrades. Today marked the annual recruiting event for the First Responders, the national security team deployed during a crisis. Though Karie was somewhat smaller than her counterparts, she had built up strength and endurance with months of grueling training. She could benchpress more weight than any of her friends, so what she lacked in bulk she made up for with muscle. She glanced at her watch. If only Sori would come right away, perhaps Karie could rush to the recruiting before it finished.

  “Perhaps we could arrange for another time?” Tanatha suggested, but the broad-shouldered woman cleared her throat.

  “Sori will keep her promise.” Novia tapped her knuckles against the clear tabletop for emphasis. The untouched tea cups rattled in their saucers, gold-rimmed delicacy on fine china. “I gave you my word.”

  “Dis,” Karie murmured and hoped no one else could hear. “
Can I go? Isn’t this insulting?” The fingers rapped harder this time.

  “Of course, Dis Novia. For the children’s Mar, Gritel and I would like to host the reception in our home afterward. Would that be acceptable?”

  Karie darted another glance toward her watch. If she left right now, she might get to recruiting before preliminary registration closed. After that, potential recruits would have to pass a rigorous set of exams and interviews to earn a spot on the training squad.

  “We prefer a public space, such as the courtyard of the Bastil,” Novia began, but her partner interjected a softening response to the rejection.

  “Dis Tanatha, it’s a generous offer, but we couldn’t impose. We would like to share the cost of the reception.”

  Karie winced. Her Dis was easygoing as a rule, but she hated taking money from anyone.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Tanatha answered, her voice cool. “We aren’t as rich as you are, but we will pay for all the usual components. As well, Karie’s gift to your House will include a tapestry for your entryway.”

  Karie scraped her chair backward. “I’ll let you do the negotiating,” she said. A peek at her watch showed her less than an hour until recruiting finished.

  “Sit down!” snapped Tanatha. Novia and her partner exchanged glances. “We came to meet your future Dis.”

  “Who couldn’t bother to come!” Karie shot back. Before Tanatha or Novia could recover from their outrage, Karie sprinted out the door. What was the point of following rules when no one played fairly?

  ****

  “Karie of Tan, requesting permission to enlist.” Karie braced herself against the registration table in an angled push-up, breathing hard. She’d run the entire way in under fifteen minutes, a new record. Her brand-new, costly dress lay on the restroom floor of the restaurant where she had ripped it over her head. Thank goodness for the foresight to wear her running shorts and shirt underneath. Free! her heart had sung as her arms and legs pumped their way to the athletic fields. A squivet!