Protecting Zoe

by Abigail Webster

  "It tastes pretty darn awful, doesn't it?" Sam asked rhetorically. He knew the answer to that one from personal experience. "It's time for another helping. Soap those fingers again, or, you can put the bar in your mouth if you'd rather...? No?" he asked when her eyes went wide. "Then soap those fingers, and keep scrubbing. I want to see some real effort put into it this time."

  Zoe did as she was told, and hated it when her mouth started burning. The soap was terrible, and she didn't want to swallow it. Sam stopped her from spitting it out. "The soap stays, Zoe. Can't get rid of it until we get rid of each and every word. You've scrubbed two... How many more do you have to wash away?" he asked.

  Sam knew she couldn't reply, so he supplied the number, and saw her eyes fill with tears. "Doesn't seem like such a small thing now, does it?" he asked her.

  Zoe shook her head no. He made her keep soaping until she couldn't possibly get any more soap in her mouth, and then she had to scrub her lips for one minute of 'extra' time.

  "Are you going to use that kind of language any more, Zoe?" he asked, pretty sure he knew what her answer would be. She shook her head 'no'. "Very well. You can spit out the soap now.

  She did and reached for a glass so she could rinse her mouth. He stayed her hand. "Not yet. There is the matter of refusing to bring me the spoon when I asked, and your defiance. You aren't going to rinse your mouth until you've taken your spanking, Zoe. The burn will remind you that words spoken in haste and anger can last a long time. He walked over and sat down on his chair. "You can get the spoon and bring it over to me, young lady, and ask me to give you the spanking you deserve. No sassing, no pleading. Just do as you are told, and do it right now."

  Zoe wanted to throw the spoon at him, but she picked it up off the counter and walked over to where he sat. "Would you give me the spanking I deserve?" she made herself say the words.

  To her surprise, he rose from the chair, took the spoon from her hand, and then pointed to the table. "Bend over," he instructed.

  Zoe thought this was even worse than being pulled over his lap. Now he was expecting her to put herself in position for punishment... Punishment her poor bottom couldn't take much more of! She bent over, resting on her forearms, between their dirty dishes. Her faced flooded with color when he pushed her skirt up again, and this time, to her complete shock, his fingers reached for the waistband of her thong, and he pulled it down past her knees.

  "Step out of this. You won't be needing it any more today."

  "No.... It doesn't protect anything...!" she protested

  "I will have your bottom completely uncovered for all of your spankings from now on, Zoe. You will have the added shame of losing your modesty, not that you could possibly have any left the way you dress!" he scolded her, vowing he was going to bring her some proper clothing.

  "Please don't use the spoon, Sam! I hurt so much already."

  "You were warned about arguing with me, weren't you?" he asked.

  "Yes... but..."

  "There is no but, except the butt that is going to learn a lesson right now." He deliberately started with her sit spot this time, the spoon leaving white ovals that turned red. He gave her ten to each side, and then peppered her upper thighs. She was dancing in place, and he found the sight appealing. Zoe was a very beautiful young woman, and he would be lying if he tried to convince himself that he wasn't attracted to her. Still, he was mending her manners, and he was prepared to do a thorough job of it.

  Zoe was sure she was going to die. The spoon hurt, and she wanted to jump up and scream at him to stop spanking her, but she didn't dare. She knew he would just find a way to punish her for that, too. Her sore bottom cheeks were next, and when Sam finally stopped, she was a blubbering mess.

  "Are you ready to write that essay without argument, young lady?" Sam asked.

  "Yes, sir," she agreed, praying he would stop.

  "Good. You go on in the bathroom and wash your face, and rinse your mouth. Once you've composed yourself, you can clean up our dishes. By then I should be ready to leave, and you will sit here at the table while I'm gone and write your essay."

  "May I have my purse from your car? I need my hairbrush," she explained.

  "I'll get your brush," he agreed.

  Zoe went on to the bathroom and the first thing she did was rinse and rinse her mouth. The soap taste remained, no matter how mush she swished and spit. She put a bit of toothpaste on her finger, and ran it over her teeth and tongue, and everywhere she could reach. It helped some to rid her of the horrible after effects, but she could still taste soap after her improvised brushing! She found a washcloth and scrubbed her face. It felt good to remove all traces of her makeup, even though her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. She really needed a shower, but didn't have any other clothes with her...

  She opened the door, and Sam was standing there with her brush. "Here you go." She ran the brush through her hair, and then walked into the kitchen and started clearing the dirty dishes. It wouldn't take more than a couple of minutes to clean up their mess, and Zoe wasn't anxious to sit down. She dumped out the soapy water in the dishpan, and scrubbed it with dish soap before filling it with water to do their dishes. While she was running water, Sam was writing on a yellow legal pad. She was pretty sure he was listing what he wanted to purchase, and he confirmed it a couple minutes later when he asked, "Do you need any personal items...? If you do, this is the time to make mention of it. Tampons... pads?" he asked directly.

  "No... we won't be here that long," she answered, her cheeks as red as her bottom.

  "Okay." He wrote a couple more things down, then asked, "Do you have any allergies to any foods?"

  "No. But I hate spaghetti... anything with oregano in it..." she told him, and watched in satisfaction as he scratched something off the list.

  "No problem. No spaghetti," he smiled. He wrote a few more things, and then got up from the table. He tore off his list and put it in his pocket, then put the pad and pen in front of Zoe's chair. He topped off her coffee mug with more coffee, and then placed it beside the legal pad. "Time for you to sit your butt right here, Miss Zoe, and get busy on your essay." He was pleased when she didn't argue, but walked over and carefully sat down.

  "How long will you be?" she asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. Sitting really hurt!

  "I'll be a couple of hours," he told her, and watched her dark eyes widen in dismay.

  "May I please get up when I finish the essay?" she asked.

  "No," he said firmly. "Sitting is a punishment, and you will endure it. I expect you to put some thought into that essay. I don't want one little paragraph. I want a full explanation of your actions, and I want you to write about what could have happened to you as a result of your actions. Nothing less will do, and I'll warn you, Zoe, you are going to get a switching today. That essay of yours is going to determine how many switches you are going to cut and peel, and how many stripes you are going to get. I think it would be in your best interests to sit right there and do a good job."

  He walked out the door and left her sitting there. He started up his car and headed down the mountain, wondering if Zoe would obey him, or if she would defy him and run away while he was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Zoe's overactive imagination took control the minute Sam left the cabin. What if he was just some weirdo who'd driven her up here and decided to punish her, then leave her here with no way to find her way home? What if he meant to keep her here forever? What if he really did intend to turn this into HIS kidnapping scheme, and bilk her father out of money? Why on earth was she sitting here on this chair, with a tablet it front of her? She should be running for her very life! Zoe got up, went into the bedroom, found her shoes, and put them on. They were made for dancing, not walking long distances, but they were better than going barefoot. She threw open the cabin door, and looked around, trying to decide which direction to go.

  As far as she could see in either direction were trees. The cabin was truly sec
luded, and she suddenly realized that the cabin didn't even have electricity. The stove ran on gas, and there was a generator to run everything else! She spotted the road, and decided that would be the best way out of here. She'd just listen for Sam's car, and if she heard it, she'd hide. She started walking, and finally gave up on her shoes. Barefoot would be better than twisting her ankle. The road didn't have much in the way of gravel covering it, and there were plenty of soft spots to step. She kept listening for a car, or the sounds of another human being, but there was nothing until she heard a deep sigh directly behind her.

  Zoe gasped and turned around, dropping her shoes. "You! How...?"

  "I was afraid you'd try to run off, so I pulled over and walked back... just to check..." Sam's voice was full of disappointment.

  "How do I know you're who you say you are? And how do I know you're not planning on leaving me up here all alone forever? How do I know you aren't planning to send a ransom not to my father? I want to go home, Sam!" she whispered, her dark eyes full of fear.

  He reached into his pocket and took out his ID. "Here you go, Princess."

  She looked at his driver's license, and his PI License. It was legitimate.

  "I also have a contract signed by your father in my office, Zoe," he said. "I'm not going to strand you up here, and I'm not going to rape you. I am going to give you the switching of your life for the stunt you pulled last night, and I'm going to mend your manners for you. I am not a kidnapper." He looked at her for a full minute. "Do you believe me now?"

  Zoe was shocked to realize that she did believe him. His blue eyes were solemn and serious, and reflected honesty. "I believe you," she said quietly, suddenly wondering how much trouble she was in for leaving the cabin.

  "Good. If I tell you to walk right back up that road, sit yourself down at that table, and write your essay, are you going to do it without any further question or sass?"

  Zoe nodded, "Yes, sir."

  "I won't punish you then, Zoe. I should have shown you my badge earlier," he conceded. "However, I will be most displeased with you if I have to go hunting over this mountain for you when I get back. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir. I won't leave the cabin," she promised.

  "You won't leave the chair," he corrected her.

  "Yes, sir. I won't leave the chair," she agreed, thankful he wasn't going to spank her again here and now.

  "You get on back now," he ordered, and Zoe picked up her shoes and headed for the cabin.

  Sam followed at a safe distance, making sure to stay out of site. He watched with a grin as she dumped her cold coffee and refilled her mug, then went to the bathroom before finding the chair. She sat down carefully, trying to find a position that was comfortable. He was pretty sure she'd be squirming the entire time she was on the chair, but she finally settled, then pulled the legal pad toward her. He was shocked when she picked up the pen, and started writing with concentration. Apparently she intended to obey him, and he was relieved... for her sake. The switching she was going to get was going to be awful.

  He started walking down the mountain to where he left his car, and then went on to town. It was slow going with all the curves and drop offs, and he wasn't going to rush to get back. If Zoe valued her hide, she would stay put.

  ********************

  "Ross?" Harry Rathbourne took his call right away. "What's going on with that girl of mine? Are you scaring some sense into her?"

  "I'm attempting to teach her some manners, sir," Sam stated bluntly. "She's had her bottom spanked and her mouth soaped. She's supposed to be sitting on a sore butt right now writing an explanation for her behavior last night."

  "I just don't know what to think of the girl, Sam," Harry said in a tired, sad voice. "I've given her everything."

  "Except a damned good spanking," Sam grumbled.

  "It isn't considered proper these days," Harry defended himself. "I grounded her. Took away car keys. I tried, but with her Mother gone, I didn't do so well. Sam, I meant what I said. You straighten her out, and I'll make it worth your while."

  "I like Zoe, Mr. Rathbourne," he admitted. "This has moved to a personal level for me now. I want to see her straightened out so that she won't try something like this again, and because I see something special hiding in her eyes when I look at her. She's a sweet girl, once you get beneath the make-up and defiance, and I could come to care for her," he said with his usual blunt honesty.

  "Son, I have no objections to you if my daughter decides she wants you. I'm a blunt man, and speak my mind. Money don't mean anything without someone you love. If Zoe loves you, then I'll welcome you with open arms. Got that?" the older man's voice was hoarse with emotion.

  "Zoe might decide to have me shot by the time this week is over," Sam grinned.

  "She's more the type to do it herself," Harry chortled. "You do as you see fit with my girl, Sam. I know you're to be trusted, or I wouldn't have hired you. Let me know when you're on your way back. I want a few words with my daughter."

  "Yes, sir," Sam replied. He hung up the telephone, took out his list, and went shopping, his mind wondering on what the lovely redhead was doing now.

  ********************

  Zoe finished the first part of her essay, and moved on to the second part. There were tears on her cheeks, and she couldn't help but wonder if Sam would find her awful when he read her excuses for faking her kidnapping. Now that they were on paper, it didn't sound 'right'... not even to her, and she was the one with the axe to grind. The second part of the essay was simple. She wrote it quickly, and then wondered how long it would be before Sam returned. Part of her wanted him to hurry so that she could get off the chair, but another part of her dreaded his return. She had no doubt in her mind whatsoever that he was going to make good on his promise to switch her.

  The very thought of a switching frightened her. She'd read about them, of course. She'd read about spankings, too, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of being turned over and spanked until she was sobbing her heart out. In a word, it hurt. And a switching would hurt even more...

  How could her father give a relative stranger permission to do that do her? Especially when he'd never so much as raised a hand to her? Did he think he could buy someone to make her respect him? It wouldn't work! He'd neglected her when she needed him most, and she wasn't going to make it easy on him. Sam might give her a switching, but she could promise that it would be her father that paid in the long run. She was simply going to disappear. He could take his money with him to hell! She didn't want it!

  Zoe looked at her watch again, and groaned. She still had at least an hour left to wait for Sam's return, and if she didn't do something, she would go crazy. She needed to take her mind off her sore butt and sitting. Her coffee was long gone, and while she'd love another cup, she didn't dare get up to get it. Sam wasn't stupid. He'd know by the contents left in the pot that she'd been off of the chair, and she didn't want a punishment for disobeying him, especially when he let her off earlier. She wasn't going to push her luck.

  There was one thing she could do, and without another thought, she ripped off her essay and set it aside, then started writing.

  ********************

  Sam parked his car, and made sure to pocket his keys. He wasn't foolish enough to leave them where Zoe could get her hands on them. He grabbed an armful of bags and walked inside, pleased to see her sitting right where she was supposed to be. He was surprised at the two piles of paper beside her. "Are you finished writing your essay?" he questioned, noting that she was tearing off another page and putting it to her right.

  "Yes, Sam. This is it," she pointed to the pile on her left. "This is personal," she picked up the other stack of paper.

  "I see," he nodded. She obviously did not want him to read what she held in her hands. He would respect that for now. "If you're done, you can get up and help me carry in the rest of what I bought..." She was off the chair before he finished speaking. "Put your private stuff in the back
of the pad, and put it on top of the fridge. I won't bother it," he told her. He was pleased to see she did as he said, and followed him outside.

  "You bought a lot," Zoe commented, taking several bags.

  "We needed some clothes, too," he explained. "And lots of food. I'm a big eater. At least the shed is full of gas for the generator. We'll be fine, just as long as the road doesn't get washed out... and if it starts to rain, we'll head out pronto," he promised.

  Zoe was excited as she helped him unpack the groceries. Sam had thought of everything. There were even some candy bars, and lots of things to make some good meals. "You must know how to cook?" she asked curiously.

  "Gramma taught me to put a few meals together. Nothing fancy," he warned.

  "I'm not much for fancy, either," she shocked him by admitting. "I like soup... doesn't matter what kind, either."

  "So do I," he agreed, looking at her. Was this the same young woman who'd been hurling obscenities at him earlier?

  "We could bake some cookies, too," she said happily. "There's more than enough peanut butter here for a nice sized batch."

  "You can bake?" he wanted to clarify that with his own ears.

  "Yes," the smile left her face.

  "I love peanut butter cookies," he told her, then said, "You're allowed to be happy, Zoe. I like to see you smile."

  "You don't know a lot about me, Sam. I'm not what or who you think I am," she said bitterly.

  "Then suppose you tell me who you are," he invited.

  "You haven't earned the right to know the real me yet," she astounded him with her reply. "You still think the worst of me because that's all you've seen of me... and because you've listened to Harry Rathbourne... and I'll tell you for a fact, that is one man who will never know the real me!"

  "You're working yourself into a fine temper," Sam remarked. "How about making a fresh pot of coffee, and I'll flip a couple hamburgers for our lunch." He took her arm and gently pulled her around to face him, "Zoe, we have the rest of this week to figure this all out. I'm willing to hear your side of things... okay?"