To her surprise, she remained alone. Except for a distant clattering from somewhere in the house, which she didn't choose to investigate, the house was silent all afternoon. She waited, anxiously perched on the edge of her seat, metaphorically speaking, for him to come and deal with her. She knew, without a doubt, that he was going to punish her.
She was having trouble coming up with a valid excuse, so convincing him not to was going to be a complete failure. She'd put herself in danger because she didn't want to appear to be some damsel in distress who had to call for help in a tough situation. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; she wanted him to learn that women could look after themselves without being protected by a man. Even if she wasn't entirely sure how modern she wanted him to become, she knew that the over-protectiveness would start to grate on her eventually.
It worried her that he didn't appear to handle things immediately and it kept her on edge all day. She wondered if that wasn't exactly what he wanted. It was a good way to keep her mind on it, even when she tried to distract herself with television or books. She began to consider calling him, just to get it over with, but her pride wouldn't bend enough, so she had to settle for worrying as she waited.
She couldn't guess what he was going to do, and trying just made her more anxious as a list of painful suggestions strolled through her mind. Her ass tightened reflexively as she pictured him holding her down while he turned her ass a blazing fiery red color. She squirmed and got up to begin pacing around the room.
"This is stupid," she muttered. "I can't keep thinking about this."
She forced her mind down other tracks. If she couldn't relax enough to read her book, at the very least, she could be productive and think about some of the pressing issues. As much as she waffled back and forth and had refused to give John her decision yet, staying was pretty much a done deal in her mind, but that wasn't going to make all the problems surrounding that choice go away. There were things she needed to do, things she needed to plan for.
She settled down at the over-sized desk in the library, making herself comfortable in the leather chair with a notebook in front of her. When her mind was troubled, she tended to fall back on making lists, so that's what she did. Flipping back and forth between the pages, she laid out each problem on a separate page and then began to brainstorm solutions for each one.
She didn't restrain herself to realistic solutions so some of the itemized suggestions were either impossible to achieve or just silly, but mixed among them were some real options to consider. The planning was soothing to her mind in a way that pacing and fretting hadn't been, and she slowly relaxed as the afternoon passed without her noticing.
When sundown arrived, so did he.
Chapter 5
He appeared in front of her, watching silently as she chewed on the end of her pen, thinking. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, and after a few seconds, she scratched some of the words out and wrote something else in their place. She was so focused that she didn't notice his arrival until he cleared his throat, and then her gaze shot up.
She started to smile, ready to greet him as she always did, but then she remembered she was in trouble and her bottom lip trembled nervously. "Hi," she said quietly.
"Hello, April." He took a seat on the edge of the desk, looking down to see what she was writing. "Ways to earn money?" he asked, reading the first line.
"Yeah, just some ideas, in case we don't make enough from the virtual reality experience." He looked blank and she wondered if he even knew what virtual reality was. "The game Elizabeth is making, I mean. The new contract says I get part of the profits, but if it doesn't sell well, that's not going to help much. So, I was trying to think of some other ways to pay the bills."
"Ah." He leaned closer, reading what she'd come up with. "Some of these are interesting. Though I'm not entirely sure what a 'B&B' is," he said, tapping the one that she'd starred and circled with his finger.
"Oh! Bed and Breakfast! It means we'd take in guests for a night or two. Kind of like a hotel but more personal. I've heard some places that are supposed to be haunted do that and make a lot of money, especially around Halloween. People want to sleep in a real haunted house with a chance to see a ghost," she explained. She'd gotten the idea from watching a documentary about the infamous Lizzy Borden and she thought it might just work.
After all, the house was fully decorated with beautiful furnishings and there were a ton of bedrooms upstairs that weren't going to be used otherwise. The invasion of strangers in the house would be difficult to get used to, but she thought she could manage. The mansion was big enough that a few guests wouldn't make her feel crowded, she hoped. Though she did worry about some of the more violent spirits.
It would give the customers what they thought they wanted, but she had a feeling that glass smashing an inch from their feet might send them running for the door. That was another reason to look into clearing the house of all but John, once she owned it.
"A boarding house? You would turn my home into a boarding house?" he asked. One eyebrow went up in surprise, but he didn't seem angry, just thoughtful.
She leaned back and shrugged. "It's just an idea, but it would help support the house and maybe—" She hesitated for a second and then continued, "Maybe it would keep me from feeling isolated as the only living person in the house." Of course, in another week, she'd be able to leave the house whenever she felt like it, but it was still a huge place to rattle around alone in all day.
"It has merit. I wouldn't be opposed to discussing it," he said finally.
"Good, because selling all the antique furniture is also on the list and I'd rather not do that," she said, grinning. It was worth a lot, at least a million, she'd be willing to bet, and she'd negotiated with Elizabeth that all of it would come with the house. If she had to sell a few pieces here and there, she'd accept that, but picturing all of the rooms empty, or worse, with cheap particle-board pieces, just made her cringe.
"As long as you keep the bed," he said, smirking so she knew he was teasing.
They both laughed but then his face sobered and he seemed to shift gears. "So, do you have something you'd like to tell me now?" he asked.
She swallowed hard and dropped her eyes, hands twisting nervously. "I-I guess so. I mean you already know," she said.
"Yes, I know. Tell me, anyway," he said. His voice was calm but there was a firm tone to it that made her sigh.
"Charles came yesterday to drop off my check. We'd made plans for Carson to stay late again so I wouldn't be alone with him, but he fooled us and showed up later without calling," she said quietly. She kept her eyes down, watching the constant movements of her fingers.
"I see. And you chose not to call me because?" he asked.
"I-I just…I didn't want you to think I couldn't handle it," she admitted. She shifted in her seat, shrinking down until she felt dwarfed by the over-sized leather chair.
"I have no doubt that you can handle most things you put your mind to, April, but a man twice your size isn't one of them, unless you have some special training I'm unaware of?" He crossed his arms over his chest when she looked up nervously; his eyes seemed an especially dark shade of blue as they bored into her.
She frowned and shook her head slowly. She'd always meant to take some self-defense classes but she never had. He was right; what she'd done was dangerously risky. She was depending on the fact that everything was on camera to keep Charles from doing anything, but she'd seen the hunger in his expression and she couldn't be sure that being filmed would be enough. Especially not, she recalled, when he had the combination to the equipment closet. One 'accident' and all the footage could be erased, leaving no witness.
But did she really believe it would go that far? She wasn't sure. "I'm sorry. I should have called you," she said quietly.
"Yes, you should have. That was your first mistake, and your second?" he asked.
"My s-second?" She looked up, startled, and then bit down on her bottom
lip. What else had she done to upset him? Her mind raced through the previous day. There really hadn't been anything, except… She sighed. "I guess I should have told you," she said finally.
"Told me? Yes, you should have told me what happened. I will always want to know if something is upsetting you. But one thing I won't put up with, April, is lying. You didn't just keep it from me, you lied when I asked you what was wrong," he growled. His voice was deep and angry and she had a sinking feeling that she was in big trouble.
"I-it wasn't lying exactly. I just—"
He interrupted her with a sharp hand gesture. "Stop right there, girl. It was a lie, and you know it. Times may have changed since I died, but I'm certain you know the difference between the truth and a falsehood. Look at me," he commanded.
As he'd spoken, her gaze had slowly drifted back down to her hands, focusing on the nervous twiddling as she listened. But now they snapped up, widening.
"Why did you lie, April? The truth, now, all of it," he snapped. His icy gaze held her eyes on him and she didn't dare look down again.
"I—" Her bottom lip trembled and she gave him a pleading look. His expression didn't change; he simply waited for her to obey. "I knew you'd be angry I didn't call and I didn't want to get in trouble," she whispered.
"So, you didn't forget what I told you. You simply chose not to do what I said and then you lied about it to avoid correction?" he asked, clarifying in a tight voice.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and meeting his gaze was getting harder. "Yes," she said.
"I thought as much. Quite a list of sins you've tallied, April." He paused and then added, "You realize I'm going to have to punish you."
Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head in denial. "Please, John. I'm sorry. I really am!" she blurted.
"Yes, but not as sorry as you will be," he replied. When he'd relaxed his rules, trying hard to remember that she was used to a different standard of life, bedroom play had become the bigger focus in their relationship. Small bits of pain to increase the pleasure of their lovemaking, rather than punishment, were what they both preferred. But he couldn't let this stand; she'd earned this chastisement and he was going to be sure she knew full well the penalty of lying to him.
He turned her chair around, pulling her from it with a gentle grip on her wrist and then he sent her hurrying towards the door with a smack to the back of her jeans that was definitely not gentle. "Stop," he said when she got there. She turned back, with a beseeching look, which he ignored.
"Remove your pants," he said firmly.
Confused, she obeyed with movements that were slowed by shaking hands. When her jeans were half-way down, she realized she'd never get them off over her shoes and kicked those off as well.
"And your undergarments," he ordered firmly.
She slowly slipped them down and stepped out of them, with an embarrassed glance at the cameras. She'd almost gotten used to their constant presence but, somehow, it seemed much worse that they'd know she was being punished.
"Put your shoes back on," he said. Now she was extremely confused and desperately wanted to ask what was happening, but his tone didn't invite questions and she simply slipped her feet back into the sneakers.
"When I was a child, my mother had a special punishment for lying. It was extremely effective and I soon learned that whatever I had done wrong, it wasn't worth lying about," he said calmly. "Let's see if it works on you, as well. As I recall, there is a willow tree around back," he said.
She nodded slowly; she'd seen it on her walk and she had a sinking feeling she knew what he wanted from her. "Please, John," she began.
He ignored her. "Take a knife from the kitchen. I want three switches as long as your arm. The base of each should be as thick as your smallest finger." He described to her exactly what he wanted while she listened, horrified, and when he was done, she looked down at her bare legs.
"But why do I have to go out like this?" she asked, desperately tugging at the hem of her t-shirt to try to cover her thighs. She'd worn a short one that day and it ended just below her belly button.
"It will add to the punishment," he said firmly.
When she hesitated, he began to move towards her and she had a feeling she wouldn't like what happened when he got there, so she turned and fled, bare-ass bouncing, down the hall and into the kitchen. She grabbed a knife as directed. It was lucky she'd discovered the door to the back patio in her exploring, because walking around the front of the house would have made it worse, especially since it wasn't quite dark yet and the gate faced the street.
There would have been little chance of anyone happening to look through to see her all the way up the drive, but she'd have worried anyway. She ducked out the back door and trotted across the yard, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. The willow tree wasn't far, but she felt so exposed standing outside like that as she cut switches.
She had no idea what a proper switch was meant to look like, but since she knew what he was going to do with it, she assumed straighter and with less knobby bumps would be better. It took time to find and cut the right ones, and by the time she'd chosen, dusk had fallen, leaving long shadows across the grass. Her skin was damp from both fear and the chill of the night air when she hurried back inside with them.
John was waiting there for her inside and she went to hand him the switches. He shook his head. "Peel the bark and trim any small branches off. You'll want them to be as smooth as possible," he advised.
So, she stood at the kitchen sink, clad only in a t-shirt, and prepared switches for him to use on her. That seemed unfair, somehow, but she wasn't going to argue—not while she was holding a handful of switches anyway. After several tedious minutes, she turned and offered them to him, and again, he shook his head.
"Do you have a…" he frowned. "No, I suppose you don't wear hair ribbons, do you?" She shook her head mutely.
"Find something to tie them together, in a bunch," he said. He'd let her sort out what could be used in place.
She bit her lip. It was probably too much to hope for that he'd give up the idea if she couldn't come up with a replacement. "Elastics would work. I have some upstairs for my hair," she suggested with reluctance.
"Good, tie them together at the base and leave them on the bed. Then place yourself in the corner, facing the wall, and wait for me," he ordered.
"The corner? You want me to stand in the corner?" she asked. Her face was flaring up with the deep red of humiliation and anger as she stared at him. "That's something you do to children, not grown women!" With her arms crossed over her chest, she was the picture of rebellion, except that she was bare from the waist down, which made that attitude hard to maintain.
One eyebrow went up as he gave her a stern look. "Was it a grown woman who put herself at risk and then lied to me?" he demanded.
She shifted, some of the anger going out of her. "I—"
"Was that the behavior of an adult or a child, April?" he asked, the tone making it clear it wasn't a rhetorical question. He wanted an answer and she busied herself tugging the hem of her shirt down while she tried to think of something to say.
"It's unfair to say I'm a child because I made mistakes. Adults make mistakes. Would you call me a child if I was a man and I'd done that? Or would you just think I was being brave?" she asked finally. That was the heart of the unfairness, she thought. If a man tried to handle a problem alone, it was expected, but if a woman did it, she was a child. It was such an old-fashioned idea.
John laughed, shaking his head. "If you were a man, this would never have been a problem. I seriously doubt that lawyer would have the same intentions, April," he scoffed.
She flashed an annoyed look at him. "You know that's not true, either. Some men like other men," she pointed out. He looked discomforted, and she sighed—probably not the best time to bring that up. She had a feeling no one talked about people being gay in his time and that was off the topic, anyway. "I just think i
t's unfair to say I was acting like a kid because I messed up." She flashed a glance at him, checking his expression. She could see him working the thoughts out in his head.
"Very well, you made those mistakes as an adult woman. It was wrong to say you were acting like a child, when you were actually acting like a reckless woman who is old enough to know better. That doesn't change the fact that you're going to be punished for disobeying me, but I respect that you made those choices as an adult," he said calmly.
She couldn't tell if she'd won an argument for equal rights or just made things worse for herself. Somehow, choosing to disobey sounded worse, like it had been a deliberate act of defiance, which, in a way, it was. Gnawing her bottom lip nervously, she waited to find out.
"When you make a choice, there are always consequences, April. And whether or not you feel that waiting in the corner is appropriate, you shall, nonetheless, do so. It may be a punishment that is used on children, as is spanking, I believe, but I also feel it will give you time to reflect on your actions," he said. He'd shifted to an older style of talking, as he did sometimes, when he was struggling with changes.
"But, John, I—"
He held up a hand to cut her off. "Since I don't wish you to feel I'm forgetting your age, we'll make a slight accommodation. Instead of standing, you will remove the rest of your clothing and kneel. No more arguing. Go," he ordered with a hint of steel in the words.
Her eyes widened. That was worse, that was much worse. She wanted to protest but one look at his face sent her scurrying upstairs, instead. She'd pushed as far as she could in one day, and while this was going to feel worse, at least she wouldn't feel like a six-year-old while she waited.
Her hands trembled as she used an elastic to bind the switches together and then she laid them on the bed. She gave the camera an upset glance and then she moved to the only empty corner in the room, facing it before tugging the shirt over her head and settling on her knees. She knew she was supposed to be thinking about her mistakes but she was pretty sure no one ever did that while waiting for punishment.
Awakened with a Touch Page 13
