Chapter 28

Cal

This time, Grace obeyed without hesitation. When I had set her on her feet, her hands went straight to her head and she stepped toward the couch. She cast a look at me back over her shoulder but the expression on her face bore no resemblance to the one she had worn when she had stopped halfway across the living room floor. I had seen a gleam of defiance, then—defiance for its own sake, or, really, for the sake of getting her butt spanked even sooner.

My body had responded to that spark of rebellion even faster than my mind had. As my limbs had gone into action, taking her delicious form into my arms in that dominant way, I had felt a fleeting moment of confusion. It took a second or two to get my head around the fact that I could love her, love her independence and even her defiance, and yet feel in my very bones the need to correct her with the utmost severity when she provoked me that way.

As I had felt her yield to my strength I had understood, though it had brought out an even more paradoxical set of ideas. I wanted to take care of her, to treasure her. I also needed to spank her hard.

Looking into her eyes as they gazed timidly at me through the angle made by the soft, pinkish flesh of her bent elbow, it all made sense. I could see Grace's own dawning and developing understanding of her needs—and I felt a thrill of mingled joy and arousal to see also, maybe in the crease in her forehead, that she had even begun to accept those needs.

"Eyes front, darlin'," I told her. The way my words affected her, the tiny changes I saw in her face, the way she swallowed at the sound of my deep voice… they all seemed to affect me at something like an atomic, molecular level. My dominant blood surged in my veins—and a lot of it went straight to my already hard cock, so that I felt it jump along my thigh.

Grace turned her face quickly to look at the wall above the couch, where I had hung an old photo of Grasskiln in the 1920s, a frontier town with a general store and a saloon and a church. I felt like I could read my sweet, gorgeous handful's mind as she caught sight of it—the town in the photo looked like the kind of place where men were men and women learned to obey their suitors when the time for courtship arrived.

I crossed the distance to the couch with a single step, so that I stood behind Grace. I looked at the soft skin of her neck, where her red ponytail descended to shoulder-length and made her complexion look very pale. I saw that she had started to tremble all over, the shaking in her arms mirrored in the slight movement of the ponytail.

"I'm going to bare your bottom now," I told her, and I reached for the hem of her dress and started to roll it up.

Grace

I whimpered softly as I felt Cal raising my skirt and gathering it at my waist. My body started to shake so violently with fear and embarrassment that I worried I might fall down. He rolled the dress, and tucked it, slowly and carefully, as if to make sure both that I understood he could see my humiliating training panties and that I felt the return of his patience and carefulness, now that I had shown submission and obedience.

The trembling in my limbs quieted a little, though I could still feel it as a kind of distracting electricity that seemed to travel all over my skin. It felt like it centered in the small of my back, the stripe of bare skin above the waistband of my underwear that could feel the air of Cal's living room moving over it. Below that exposed flesh, in a dismaying contrast, I could feel in a sort of negative way how the training panties encased me in modest, virginal white, preventing any delicate, arousing sensation from getting through.

And yet inside them I felt the lingering—though quickly fading—ache from the ferocious spanking Cal had already given me. All of those sensations seemed magnified, multiplied, by the tension in my muscles that holding my arms up created. Knowing that with my hands on my head I had yielded responsibility for my body to the strong man who intended to discipline me sent tendrils of fear and need traveling from my sore bottom to my pussy to my nipples.

The sheer confusion of it all made me whimper when Cal's hands touched me there, on the exposed skin between the rolled, tucked hem of my dress and my underwear. When he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, their knuckles digging gently into the sides of my waist, I tried to keep another, matching whimper down but succeeded only in turning it into a kittenish whine. I shuddered violently as I felt him start to pull my panties down.

"Easy, darlin'," Cal said. "We've done this before."

I felt my face work with shame and need, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. Part of me wanted to protest that it had somehow felt easier when he had me over his knee. The idea that my shaved pussy had just come into view—that Cal could turn me around and see it if he wanted, because I had to keep my hands on my head, and I wasn't allowed to hide my body from him—made it very different.

More, last time I hadn't had the terrible promise of a naked paddling to come, after a spanking. Last time he hadn't actually punished me at all, at least according to any ordinary understanding of punishment. He had made me feel good. Tonight, he intended really to punish me, and he had already shown how serious he was about it.

And then…

I could hardly believe it, but as Cal pulled the training panties slowly down to my knees, my body responded not mainly with terror, but with helpless need. After my bare-bottom spanking, after my naked paddling…

I would demand to go home. It seemed entirely obvious that, just as my ‘accepted suitor' had told me, I had no way of escaping the pain and humiliation he meant to inflict. From the moment the judge had pronounced my bizarre sentencing to this crazy excuse for a program, it had all unfolded with what I could see now as insane but absolute inevitability.

Foster ‘parents' who believed in ‘traditional' gender roles and ‘old-fashioned' discipline. A muscular, incredibly masculine suitor who shared their beliefs. A whipping with the family strap. A session over my suitor's knee with his thumb in my ass and his fingers on my clit. Training panties, inspections, preparations, so-called ‘dates,' and my own inevitable rebellion.

All meant to get me ‘ready' to submit utterly to this man's masculine authority, his masterful pleasure, his dominant use of my virgin body.

I let out a sob of shame and need as I sensed Cal straightening and taking a step back. I couldn't see him but I could picture him much too well, standing looking at my bare, reddened backside. My face worked with abject embarrassment and the tears started to trickle down my cheeks. I wanted, suddenly and desperately, for him to get it over with.

And then…

No. No. And then I would demand, in my fury, that he take me back to the Carpenters. I would go to the New Modesty office… would walk there if I had to… and request to be sent to prison, rather than this ‘old-fashioned' bullshit.

I felt a terrible urge to turn my head, crane my face around so that I could see Cal. Did he like what he saw? I wanted him to like what he saw: my bare butt, with what I thought had to be at least a tinge of pink from the hard spanking he had given me through my dress and my panties.

What he'll never get to… to… have. The defiant voice in my mind tried again. What he'll never get to claim… never get to fuck.

The rebellion in me had made a misstep there. When I thought the word fuck, I seemed to feel it in my body. My pussy clenched. I wanted to disappear into the floor, or let the observer in outer space come and rip me off the Earth into the heavens.

I also wanted Cal, more than anything. I wanted him to have me, own me, use me, fuck me. I wanted him to enjoy me exactly as he wanted, even though it meant submission to the discipline I had earned by disrespecting him.

My knees almost gave way with the conflict raging inside, the desire and the resistance. Cal saved me. He sat on the couch, his movement seeming sudden though I felt sure that was only because I had entered some kind of dreamlike time-lapse state. I had a moment's panic—absurd, really—that he would see my bare pussy, but then I felt him reaching for me, taking my hips, guiding me between his enormous legs and turning me.

Bending me over, into the same posture and position he had put me in on our first date. This time, though, he secured me completely from the start. He had bent my arms behind me before I really knew what he meant to do, and he had put his right leg across both my knees.

I thought he would start spanking me immediately, the way he had suddenly begun to do when I had hesitated in the middle of the living room. Instead, I felt his hand come down on my bottom, his thumb atop the crease there and his two middle fingers pressing between my thighs.

I gave a little whimper, and I responded the same way I had the last time he had touched me that way: I moved my knees farther apart, yielding access, giving him what he clearly wanted me to understand as his right to touch me as he chose. I told myself I had moved like that so that he wouldn't punish me more harshly for resisting. I told myself it didn't change anything about how stern a demand I would make to go ‘home' after this horrid insanity came to an end.

"That's it," Cal murmured from high above me. "Good girl. You're ready."

My lips parted as I started to figure out his meaning. Ready for my correction? Or ready for… for more?

"You got yourself so nice and smooth, Grace. You have the sweetest pussy I've ever seen."

I wanted to say so many things. They all got in each other's way, and they all ran into the problem that I had started to breathe so hard that I could hardly get a word out.

"Oh, God," was all I managed to whisper.

He moved his fingers, beginning to work me down there, very lightly but also terribly skillfully. A sob burst from my chest.

"I told you I would fuck you," the deep voice said, the tone as soft as the touch of his fingers where I needed so much more. "But if you decide you want to go home, after your punishment, I'll do that for you."

"Oh, no," I breathed. I realized, to my dismay, that I didn't want it to be my decision. My face burned with the knowledge, and I found myself taking refuge in the idea that at least my spanking, and my paddling, weren't a matter of choice.

Cal seemingly read my mind yet again.

"But now it's time for you to learn your lesson, darlin'," he said, his voice becoming firmer. His hand rose. Panic filled my tummy, and I started to struggle against the overwhelming strength of his body.

"That's alright, Grace," he said. "I know you can't help trying to get away."

Then he started to punish me.