by Ray Gordon
'But I won't be able to eat like this,' she protested.
'Don't worry; I'll call in every now and then to make sure you're all right. Now I really have to get some work done. I'll lock the backdoor as I leave.'
Watching as he grabbed his belt from the floor and left the room, Emily called after him, begging him to release her. But with the backdoor slamming shut and the lock clicking, she wondered how on earth she'd got herself into this terrible situation. She should never have allowed him to spank her, she should never have... but hindsight was useless, she knew. As she again struggled to free her hands she realised she'd not be able to dress; she would have to remain in her brief underwear until he decided otherwise.
The house was quiet, the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Alone and defenceless, Emily missed the sound of her mother preparing the evening meal, of her father listening to the news on the radio. What had happened? What had gone so terribly wrong?
For an hour she paced the lounge carpet, vowing to get even with her neighbour for the way he'd treated her. Day three, she mused. With each day that passed she was sinking deeper and deeper into his trap. First grounded and now a prisoner in her own home - his grip on her was tightening. Determined to thwart him she decided to make a run for it the minute he released her. She could stay at Christine's house until her parents returned.
'Are you all right?' Arthur called. 'Ah, there you are,' he said, smiling and relaxed as he walked into the lounge and furtively eyed Emily's shapely body. 'Everything okay?'
'Will you please untie me?' she asked. 'I have to go to the loo, I want to put some clothes on, and I need to get something to eat.'
'Of course,' he replied affably. 'But before I release you I have to take out a little insurance.'
'Insurance?' she echoed, inquisitively cocking her head to one side. 'What do you mean?'
'I would imagine you've been making plans while I've been working,' he explained, once again a step or two ahead of her. 'No doubt you've decided to do this and that once you're free. Do you know why I took photographs of you?'
'So you could blackmail me,' she spat. 'It's obvious.'
'Blackmail,' he pondered. 'That's an ugly word, Emily. No, I took the photographs as insurance. Their existence will prevent you from doing something stupid, like running to your parents with tales about me when they return. And if I release you, you'll probably try to get away. That's why I've come up with a neat little insurance policy.'
'Which is?'
'Come upstairs and I'll show you.'
Following him through the hall, Emily frowned as he picked up a carrier bag before climbing the stairs. What, she wondered as he opened her bedroom door and ushered her in, was he up to now?
Closing the door behind her, he rubbed his chin as he looked around the room, and then knelt by the radiator. Taking a chain from the carrier bag he ran it around one of the radiator pipes, threading the end through one of the links and pulling it tight, then he knelt before her as she sat on the end of her bed. In her naivety, Emily didn't realise what his plan was until he fed the free end of the chain around her ankle.
'There,' he said with a triumphant smile, slipping a padlock through the chain links and locking it with a metallic click. 'It's long enough, so now you'll be able to go to the loo, take a shower, sleep, dress yourself...'
'You can't chain me up like a dog,' she gasped. 'For God's sake, you need help.'
'Help?' he sniggered. 'No, I don't think so. I'm quite capable of disciplining you without help.'
'Arthur, please,' she pleaded to his better nature - if he had one, 'this has gone too far.'
'You went too far, Emily,' he corrected. 'As I said earlier, I didn't want all this. I was hoping you'd be a good girl and I'd have no need to punish you.'
'What if there's a fire?' she suggested quickly, the sudden idea making her decidedly panicky. 'Have you thought about that?'
'I'm only next door, so you have no need to worry.'
'But I won't be able to—'
'Stop creating problems, Emily,' he interjected. 'This is your punishment, remember that.'
Punishment? Punishment for what? Behaving like any normal teenage girl? Lowering her head she couldn't help but gaze down at her breasts, encased snugly in the tight, white cups of her bra. What was Arthur thinking? Was he looking at their creamy, youthful firmness too? Daring to peep up at him she saw he was indeed focused on them. What were his male thoughts? She'd always been so close to him, she reflected. Going round to visit him, helping in the greenhouse... but what were his thoughts now?
'Are you going to release my hands?' she finally asked, her sweet voice nearly catching in her throat.
'Yes, of course,' he replied, sitting on the chair by the window. 'But before I do...'
'Now what?' she sighed.
'I want to talk to you, Emily.'
'I'm not interested.'
'You're a captive audience, wouldn't you agree?' He chuckled condescendingly. 'I had a long chat with your father last week. You remember, when we sat in the dining room for a couple of hours?' Emily nodded. 'He was talking about you, telling me certain things about you.'
'Such as?'
'He's extremely disappointed in you, Emily.'
'Why?'
'He's reached the stage where he doesn't know what to do. He hasn't told your mother because—'
'Hasn't told her what?'
Arthur lowered his head as if saddened by something, and Emily wondered if he was dreaming up another of his lies. What hadn't her father told her mother? Again wondering whether her trip to Tenerife was worth enduring imprisonment for she gazed at her ankle, the chain running across the floor to the radiator. How far would she allow her neighbour to go in return for a glowing report? Would she do anything he demanded of her?
'As you know, your father is a religious man,' Arthur went on. 'He has morals, beliefs, ideals. We were chatting and he opened his heart to me.'
'What about?' she asked.
'About you, Emily. You see, he knows that you... he told me that you masturbate.'
'What?' she gasped, her brown eyes staring at him in disbelief. 'That's absolute rubbish. Never have I heard such—'
'I'm sure your father wasn't making it up when he told me he'd not only heard you masturbating, but seen you.'
'Seen me?' she gasped. 'That's... that's ridiculous. I have never—'
'Yes, so you said,' he cut across her plaintive denial. 'There's obviously no need for me to tell you your father's views on masturbation.'
'I don't believe a word of this,' she whispered incredulously. 'Firstly, I have never masturbated, and secondly, I would have made sure my father wasn't around had I wanted to. You're lying again. All you do is lie.'
'Emily, he saw you masturbating,' the man maintained.
'Where?' she challenged. 'When?'
'I don't want to go into the sordid details,' he hedged. 'Suffice to say that your father is gravely disappointed in you.'
'You don't want to go into the details because there are none,' she asserted. 'As I said, you're lying again.'
He let out a chuckle as he gazed at the delightful cups of her bra, the soft flesh they neatly and teasingly contained, and focused on the shadowy valley of her cleavage.
Yet again she had to wonder what he was thinking. What was he planning? Emily was sure her father would never talk about such intimate issues, not even to his trusted friend and neighbour. Such words as masturbation would never pass his lips, and certainly not in connection with his daughter. Besides, how would her father have witnessed such an act? He didn't know what went on behind her closed bedroom door.
'All right,' Arthur finally conceded, 'I'll tell you exactly where and when you were masturbating. You were in your bed, and it was last Wednesday evening at just past eleven o'clock.'
'I... I don't know what you're talking about,' Emily stammered defensively.
'Your father got out of bed to go to the
bathroom. As he passed your bedroom door he thought he heard you whispering something. He was concerned and listened for a while, wondering if you were unwell. And not wanting to invade your privacy he eventually checked you were okay by kneeling down and peering through the keyhole.' Arthur paused, watching the lovely girl as he let the enormity of his words sink in to her pretty head. 'There's no need for me to describe to you the sight that met his eyes, is there?' he added.
Her face flushing, Emily now knew Arthur wasn't lying. That Wednesday night she had massaged her clitoris until she orgasmed.
'Guilty,' Arthur announced sternly, his dark eyes staring accusingly at her.
Guilty? Yes, she was guilty of masturbating, and dismayed to think he had seen her she wondered how she could ever face him again. Loath to imagine what he thought of her, she recalled stifling her gasps of pleasure as her climax rocked her naked body.
'There's no point in lying about it, Emily,' Arthur said. 'You masturbate, don't you?'
'Is that what this is all about?' she asked him.
'It really doesn't have a great deal to do with your being home by ten or having Christine sleep over. As you can imagine, your father was shocked by what he witnessed. He was visibly choked, Emily.'
'He was mistaken,' she proffered weakly. 'I... I had a stomach ache and... and...'
'He wasn't mistaken.'
'So what has this to do with the way you've treated me?' she said futilely. 'In fact, what has it got to do with you at all?'
'Your father and I have been good friends for many years. He not only trusts me, but he knows he can confide in me. And having seen what he did the reason he wants me to keep such a close eye on you is obvious, surely, even to you. He's afraid you'll go off the rails completely without them here.'
'But why have you beaten me?' she asked. 'Why have you chained me up like a dog?'
'Because you need to learn, young lady,' he said simply. 'Your father now believes he's failed miserably in bringing you up to be a respectable young lady. You've hurt him deeply, and as he's a very good friend of mine, I can't stand by and watch you continue to hurt him.'
'All I did was...' she whispered. 'I mean, all I did was...'
'Your father is at a loss what to do with you. You might believe masturbation is harmless enough, but that's not the way he sees it. I've called you a slut and a tart, and I didn't want to have to tell you this but, well, they were his words, Emily, not mine.'
'My... my father called me that?' Tears sparkled in her eyes and threatened to cascade down her rosy cheeks.
'Yes, he did,' Arthur confirmed, nodding gravely. 'Don't get me wrong; he still loves you very much. It's just that you've disappointed him hugely. What you did went against everything your father believes in, everything he stands for. Can't you see that?'
'Yes, yes I can,' she admitted, sniffing softly. 'But what I can't see is why you've spanked me, thrashed me with a leather belt and treated me no better than an animal.'
'As I said, I'm not prepared to stand by and watch you hurt your father,' he said piously. 'As soon as he'd left the house you dressed up like a tart and went out drinking. The following night you rolled in at gone two o'clock, having been drinking again, and I'm not prepared to watch you turn into a brazen whore and destroy your parents.'
'All right, I've seen the error of my ways,' she sobbed. 'Let's start again, Arthur, please. Please take this chain off me.'
'I can't do that, Emily. I can't do that because, like your father, I can't trust you. I'll release your hands but the chain stays put. I'll be back later to make you something to eat, and in the meantime I suggest you do some serious thinking.'
As he undid and removed his tie and left the room, Emily hung her head and cried. Again dreading to think how she was ever going to face her father, she wondered how many times he'd heard or seen her masturbating. She only did it to find some solace, she reflected, to bring a little excitement and pleasure into her mundane life. Shame and embarrassment engulfing her, she went to the window and gazed down at the back garden, the chain following her.
'A caged bird,' she murmured, watching a sparrow fluttering from branch to branch in the apple tree. But her misdemeanours had nothing to do with her next-door neighbour, she again thought. He had no right to punish her, whatever he said to justify it. This was between her and her parents. It had nothing to do with Arthur. Why was he so involved?
Chapter 4
Going into her parents' bedroom, the chain dragging behind her across the landing, Emily sat on their bed and lifted the bedside phone. Restricted, imprisoned, she'd been chained like an animal for over an hour. She had to escape this nightmare. Christine would help, she knew, as she tapped the buttons and listened to the ringing tone. Whatever happened, whatever the outcome, she was determined to escape her neighbour's loathsome clutches.
'Hi, it's me,' she said softly as Christine answered.
'Hi, Emily. You sound down. Are you all right?'
'No, not really.'
'What's the problem?'
'Everything. I - I can't leave the house.'
'Why ever not?'
'Can you come round?'
'Yes, yes of course.'
'Only, don't let Arthur see you. Come in through the back gate and keep behind the bushes until you reach the backdoor.'
'What is this all about, Emily?' Her friend was sounding increasingly worried.
'I'll explain when you get here, although I don't know how you're going to get into the house.'
'Emily, what is going on?'
'Just get here as soon as you can.'
'All right, I'm on my way.'
Replacing the receiver and returning to her bedroom, Emily tugged a T-shirt over her head and gazed out of the window again. The sun shining, the birds singing, the sound of a lawnmower in the distance - she was surrounded by the sights and sounds of freedom, and yet...
Again looking down at her chain of bondage, she again wondered how Christine was going to get into the house. There was no point in dropping the front door key out of the window because the latch was up. And the chain was too short to allow her to go downstairs and open the door.
With pictures of her father spying through the keyhole of her bedroom door looming in her tormented mind, she again hung her head as a tear rolled down her cheek. What must he have thought? Had he watched as she reached her climax? Had he watched as she arched her back and quivered uncontrollably in the grip of her orgasm...?
Half an hour later she saw Christine in the alleyway, and watched the girl slip through the back gate and make her way slowly up the garden path.
Emily held her hand to her mouth as she watched through the net curtains. If Arthur saw her friend, if he discovered that Emily had phoned her... the consequences didn't bear thinking about. But with no way into the house there was nothing Christine could do anyway. It had been a mistake to phone her, Emily realised, and then froze as Arthur also appeared through the back gate.
'Hello, Christine,' he said, making the girl jump.
'Oh, erm... hi,' Christine replied, spinning round, clearly flustered.
'What are you doing here?' he asked.
'I, um... I've come to see Emily,' she stammered.
'She's gone out,' he told her. 'I saw her leave about ten minutes ago.'
'Gone out?' Christine echoed, her expression depicting confusion.
'No,' Emily gasped, her stomach sinking as she could just make out their muffled conversation. She couldn't believe this.
'Do you know where she's gone?' Christine asked, frowning at Arthur.
'No, I don't. I saw her from my office window about ten minutes ago.'
'Oh, right. Well, I'll probably talk to her later, then.'
Watching Christine leave the garden, Emily knew she should have guessed that Arthur would be lurking. How was he able to watch the house all the time? Unless he had cameras...
Her eyes widening in alarm as he walked up the path towards the backdoor, she decided
to say nothing about Christine. If he questioned her she'd deny phoning her friend, deny having spoken to her. Hearing the backdoor open she sat on her bed and gazed out to the landing.
'Everything all right?' Arthur asked, entering her bedroom a few moments later and standing before her.
'Oh, everything's fine,' she returned sarcastically. 'I'm chained up like a dog, I can't dress because of the chain, I can't even feed myself.'
'I've decided to allow you out this evening,' he announced, sitting beside her on the bed. 'As long as you're home by ten, you can go out.'
'Oh, er, right,' she said, caught somewhat by surprise, wondering why he'd changed his tune. Was this another trick?
As he flickered his eyes to the outline of her nipples pressing through her white bra, she wondered what he'd want in return for allowing her out. He was becoming less guarded in the way he looked at her, but he'd not made any sexual overtures toward her. Did he want sex with her? Or perhaps he really did just get his kicks from spanking her. Was that his fantasy, his turn on? His eyes lowering to her panties, focusing on the cotton 'V' disappearing between her smooth thighs, cosseting her soft pubic curls, he licked his lips.
'I'm a fair man, Emily,' he said, his gaze still locked to her thighs and her skimpy panties. 'You misbehaved, and you've been punished. So now you may go out, as long as you're home by ten.'
'Thanks,' she murmured, smiling at him warily.
'Would you like a cup of tea now?' he asked, out of the blue, his eyes lifting to hers.
'Um, yes, yes please,' she said gratefully.
'I'll go home and make it,' he said. 'With all due respect, I've never liked the tea your parents buy. I won't be a minute.'
Her mind flooding with thoughts of Jack as Arthur left the house, she felt her stomach lurch. She was going to meet him after all, she mused happily. Of course she'd have to be home by ten if she was to avoid more trouble, but that wouldn't present too much of a problem. She'd tell Jack she had relations visiting and had to get back to see them.
Perhaps Arthur wasn't so bad after all, she reflected. He'd said he was trying to make a better person of her and only had her best interests at heart. But he'd spanked and belted her poor bottom, bound her wrists and chained her to the radiator. No, he was bad and she had to get away, she decided. She'd go out for the evening and not come home. She'd stay with Christine until her parents got back from holiday, that's what she'd do.
