Back to the Garden (8 page)

“The better to see you with, my dear,” Luke grinned. He pressed against her harder, his mouth finding hers, and she felt as if she were floating, his lips soft and warm and then his tongue, oh my God, his tongue on hers, so unexpected, like an electric pulse running from the tip of her tongue to the tips of her toes.

“Oh Luke,” she breathed, her hands pulling at the breeches at the waist. “What a big...” Her words were swallowed with another kiss, and she felt him swallowing her, there was no other sensation but this. “What a big...” She felt him pressing against her, down there, the hardness of him between her legs, but she couldn’t manage to get the word out of her mouth.

“Yes,” he growled, grinding himself into her. “The better to fuck you with, my dear.” She gasped out loud at the harshness of the word, how it shocked and titillated her—the word, the thought, the act. Her body felt on fire and aching for something. She didn’t even know what.

They found their way to the living room couch, Luke hungrily kissing her, mouth, neck, the tops of her breasts pushed up in their bodice. He unlaced her easily, and her dark nipples peeked over the top, playing hide and seek as she writhed beneath him.

She shuddered as his mouth found first one, then the other, his tongue tracing hot, wet spirals she saw when she closed her eyes. His hands moved over her legs, up over her knee socks, pushing her skirt up high on her thighs and pressing himself between them. Her breath was coming too fast, making her dizzy. The room was spinning, and she groped at him for balance.

His mouth pressed against her belly, his breath hot, and he whispered her name, “Lily, oh Lily,” again and again. It was like music.

“Jeeeesus,” he breathed when he got to her panties, the sheerness of the fabric showing a moist, dark patch curling around the edges. Lily’s mouth was a small “o” as she looked down at him, pure wonder in her eyes.

Luke took off his eye patch with a small smile, and then began covering her thighs with kisses, light as dove’s wings, and when his tongue reached the edges of the red lace, he pushed it aside, searching for her soft, red center.

Lily groaned softly, her head moving from side to side. Something inside her was saying no, no, we can’t, but another part of her was moaning yes, yess, please God, yes!

His tongue was doing unholy things to her, finding the sweet spot she thought only she knew about, the one she’d found a few years ago with pressing fingers, half asleep, not really waking from a spilling, throbbing dream. This sensation was beyond pleasure, beyond hope, beyond God. This must be heaven, she thought wildly as his tongue lapped at her over and over, the feeling building like the pressure of a dam about to burst.

“Oh Luke, please,” she pleaded.

He urged her on with his tongue, making soft encouraging noises in his throat, and the sight of him between her thighs, still in his breeches and boots, his shirt pulled out, sent her over an unexpected edge. “Oh God,” she moaned, “I’m… I’m…flooding...!”

And she was, like a river of honey flowing over his tongue. Lily shuddered and gasped, her hands fists in his curls, pressing, pressing, and then she lay still, marveling. She welcomed the weight of him, stunned by the taste of herself on his tongue as he kissed her.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “My God, you’re so beautiful.”

Her hand slowly crept and fumbled and found the front of his breeches, rubbing him there, the hardness she felt. She was scared and excited and filled with an indescribable longing.

He moaned and pushed against her hand, telling her, “yes, yes, good,” giving her courage, and she found the zipper and slid her hand inside. She’d never held anything like it. The heat was incredible, and he thrust in her hand, his breath coming faster, faster. Her whole body flushed at his response as she caught his rhythm, excited by his breath, his eyes rolled back slightly, his open mouth, and especially the shifting, throbbing, swollen flesh in her hand.

“Wait, wait,” he moaned, but her grip was too firm and too steady now, and she gasped in surprise as he bucked and grunted against her, and she felt an alarmingly hot liquid spreading over her thighs. Lily lay stunned, feeling him go slowly, steadily softer, full of sticky wetness, listening to his ragged breathing eventually return to normal “Sorry,” he murmured against her ear, sounding apologetic. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

“Seems like it felt nice,” she whispered, wanting to reassure him, and he chuckled, nodding against her neck. She felt full of him somehow, satisfied and content, even relieved it hadn’t gone further than this, and it was in that sweet, soft-focused moment she heard the most terrifying thing she’d ever heard in her life.

“SINNERS!” Adam’s voiced boomed louder than she’d ever heard it during any hellfire and brimstone sermon. “You will burn in hell! Get off my daughter!”

Lily’s whole body went stiff, paralyzed with fear, her breath disappearing. Luke’s eyes flew open in panic and, fumbling with his clothes, moving quickly off her, he began mumbling apologies.

Then Adam had him by the scruff of the neck. He was a large man, over six feet tall, and he towered over Luke, shaking him like some naughty puppy. “Get out of my house! Don’t you ever, EVER come sniffing around here again! Do you understand me?!”

Luke nodded, glancing briefly at Lily, whose eyes pleaded silently with him. There was nothing he could do. He let himself be tossed out the front door, down the porch, and made his way to his car. It was pouring down rain and from her vantage point still frozen on the couch, Lily saw the jack o’lantern across the way blazing like a vague threat in the night before Adam slammed the door.

Lily couldn’t breathe. She thought she might have forgotten how. Thoughts raced, tumbled—what was he doing home early, how had this happened? She closed her eyes, unable to comprehend the change, the difference between the indescribable sweetness she’d experienced moments ago and the terror and disgrace she felt now. She smeared a sticky hand over her thigh, disgusted and suddenly shameful, and the movement brought her breath back, and then her hot tears.

“Whore!” The word breathed over her face, dark and deep and full of scorn. She wished she could make herself disappear. She couldn’t face this, she simply couldn’t, but she knew he would say it. “Open your eyes!” She obeyed, looking up into Adam’s angry face, but the disappointment she saw there pierced her even more deeply.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing where her voice was coming from—it seemed very small and far away. “I’m so sorry, I...” and there were just no more words. Nothing, nothing she could possibly say would have redeemed her, this. She was simply going to have to bear it, whatever humiliation and punishment was to come.

“Lily, what have you done?” He shook his head, and she saw tears in his eyes. She was truly remorseful now, feeling the weight of her trespass pressing into her. She just shook her head, her own tears streaming down to her temples.

“What is this?” He pointed to her dress, still pulled up over her hips, her cape hanging askew. “What in the world are you wearing?” He sounded genuinely confused and she watched the recognition come over his face with dread. “Is this...is this a... Halloween costume?” He choked on the words.

She nodded reluctantly, biting her lower lip and, suddenly aware of how exposed she was, attempted to pull her skirt down.

His face changed suddenly, from disappointment and despair, to absolute righteous fury. “You went to a
costume party
?” he fumed.

She nodded again, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

He slapped her hand away, sneering, “Don’t you dare cover yourself. You deserve to be exposed for what you are! Do you realize what you’ve done? Do you?”

She didn’t answer the rhetorical question, just winced and nodded.

“I come home to take care of you because you said you were sick, and what do I find? Sick! Yes, you
are
sick! Heaven help you, girl! You have eaten the forbidden fruit from the tree, Lily. You are no longer innocent! ‘
And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that were naked!
‘” His voice shook with feeling, and she cringed again, quailing at the looming figure above her.

His eyes closed for a moment and she waited, her breath coming in hitches. When he looked at her again, he was resolute.

“Stand up,” he demanded.

She obeyed, quieting the urge to pull her skirt down further.

“Get me the wooden spoon.”

She stood motionless, incredulous. The wooden spoon? He hadn’t used it on her in years! She couldn’t remember the last time...oh, yes, suddenly she did. She was thirteen, and he’d caught her with a teen magazine in her room, one filled with articles about rock stars and teen heartthrobs. She now remembered it very clearly.

“Go,” he commanded, sitting rigidly in the living room chair, waiting.

She made her way to the kitchen, swaying a little as she walked, as if the world were slightly tilted. She found it in the drawer next to the stove, buried underneath the can opener, the vegetable peeler, other more often used utensils.

It was a big wooden spoon. She thought it had belonged to her mother’s mother, heavy and thick, with a large flat-backed head. She held it in front of her, like she was taught to carry a knife or scissors as a little girl. When she offered it to Adam, her hands trembled. He looked up at her, and her heart ached with contrition, and something else, feeling the sacrifice of Luke, the last vestige of her hope, pushed out the front door. Why did her heart feel torn right in two?

“Daddy, please,” she whispered, sinking to her knees and bowing her head. Her hair fell like a waterfall across her tear-stained face, hiding her, and she was grateful. “I know it was wrong. I will pray for my sins. I will repent, I will...” She took a quivery breath, and felt his hand in her hair, finding her chin and lifting it.

“You will,” he confirmed, nodding. “Yes, you will. It’s the least you’ll do. But Lily, this is no small thing. This isn’t a hidden CD or candy bar or magazine.” He looked pointedly at her and she knew he remembered, too, the last time she knelt here like this, years and years it had been. She’d been such a good girl, she tried so hard to please him, to meet his impossible standards.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded, reaching her trembling hand out to him. He let her bury her face in his lap, and he stroked her hair absently as he talked.

“No, Lily, I don’t think you do know. This night of all nights, you should have been surrounded by God’s children, praying, keeping your soul intact and pure. Evil forces have taken you over, child. I can feel them in you. I can see them in your eyes. You have been tempted, and you have succumbed. You lied to me, Lily,” his voice shook and she sobbed harder in his lap. “You deceived me. You dressed yourself like a whore, a pagan slut, and went out among the wolves, as a sheep amongst the wolves. You brought home a boy and let his carnal lust overtake you. This is beyond sin, Lily. This is...” he paused, searching for a word that might encompass her actions, and finally settled on: “This is depravity.”

The weight of his words was crushing her and she could barely breathe through her sobs. He sighed, his hand smoothing the hair away from her wet cheeks. He sounded truly sorry, even reluctant when he said, “It must be punished.”

She shook her head in his lap, but then she started to nod. “Yes, Daddy, yes, ok, yes,” she breathed.

If this was her punishment, then, the humiliation of being whipped like a willful child, so be it. Anything would be better than his words, his anger, and most of all, his disappointment and disillusionment.

He pulled her across his lap, it was a quick movement, and she gasped out loud. She tried to balance herself across his long legs. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, and his thighs dug into the soft flesh of her belly, her hands pressed the floor, attempting balance, her body steepled at a strange, arched angle, like an upside down “V,” with her bottom thrust up to create the apex.

He reached under her chin, pulling the tie on her red hooded cape, and tossed it off her to the floor. She hadn’t realized how much warmth the material had been providing, and the cool air on her body, across her back where her blouse was pulled up, and especially her not oft-exposed legs, was a sudden, shivery shock.

Adam’s hands pulled her skirt up higher. It had creeped down during her walk to the kitchen. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt herself flush, remembering how sinful the panties she was wearing really were. She was mortified. He pushed her skirt up even higher, high around her waist now, and his hands seemed to linger over the scant material of her disgracefully sheer panties. Her body tensed, waiting.

“‘Virgin daughter of Babylon,’” he said, his voice hoarse. “‘Make bare the leg, uncover the thigh... thy nakedness shall be uncovered, yea, thy shame shall be seen,’” he quoted and then quietly cleared his throat.

She held her breath as Adam’s hands grabbed the edges of her panties and yanked, tearing the delicate material and exposing her completely. She wiggled, looking for a more comfortable position. His hand found her backside and he spanked her hard, making her still.

“Lily, you are a sinner. Say it!” he demanded.

“I am a sinner,” she repeated, her voice muffled in the cascade of her hair.

“Yes, and ‘if ye will not obey the voice of the Lord, but rebel against the commandment of the Lord, then shall the hand of the Lord be against you!’”

With that, his hand came down again, this time on the other side, making a red mark she would have for days. She whimpered, feeling the humiliated sting of her tears along with the sting on her bottom. “You are a whore. Say it!” he demanded.

“I am a whore,” she whispered, closing her eyes against it.

This time it was the spoon, harder and more wicked somehow. She heard it slice the air before it hit her tender skin. Again. Again. Again. She sobbed uncontrollably, and she heard him working furiously on her, the pain searing her bottom and the backs of her legs.

She tried to twist away, but he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled, and she stopped, caught. His breath was coming fast and he allowed her to sink across him, limp and aching and crying.