Gilliflowers (36 page)

“I’ll make sure to be nearby when you tell Shane that. You’ll need someone to pick up what’s left of you.” He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh of exasperation. “You’re being a total shit, Gil, you do know that.”

I knew it all right. “Haven’t you got work to go to?”

“Thankfully yes. Make sure you sort yourself out before this evening.” He strode out of the room.

Flopping back on the bed I covered my face with my hands, which did nothing to block out a mental image of his face. I’d spoiled his birthday. I was such a spiteful fucking twat! I wanted to run after him and apologise, but ill humour kept a stubborn grip. I stayed put. Curling on my side I closed my eyes hoping to fall asleep and wake up refreshed and in a more charming mood, but sleep proved evasive so I got up.

By lunchtime the clouds of tiredness had parted and I felt a bit better. Phoning Dick I offered an apology for my foul temper and he graciously accepted. I then spent the afternoon getting ready for the party. I prepared food, cleaned the house and tidied the garden. I rearranged the summerhouse furniture into social settings in case some guests wanted to sit and chat in there. It all looked good.

Obstinate discontent returned as I stocked the portable party cooler with beers and lager and the fridge with bottles of Moet champagne as well as ordinary white wine to chill down. All I had to look forward to was an evening of soft drinks and cold sobriety.

I had a stern word with myself, pointing out that it wasn’t my evening, it was Dick’s and the objective was for him to enjoy it.

Stern words aren’t really my forte and I didn’t have much of an impact on myself.

After placing the last bottle of wine I closed the fridge door with enough vigour to dislodge several little round glass fridge magnets. They were part of a set depicting cartoon drawings of cats. They’d been a gift from Eileen for some small favour I’d done for her. I let out a salvo of heavy curses as they rolled in all directions across the floor.

Before I could retrieve them the front door opened and then closed followed by footsteps sounding in the hall. I recognised their tread and their tone. It was Shane. He was annoyed. My skin prickled as he strode into the kitchen, his face thunderous.

“What are you shouting and swearing about? I could hear you from the drive as I got out of the car. What if I’d had someone with me? A fine impression it would make hearing your voice bellowing obscenities.”

“Sorry, Shane. I didn’t realise I was so loud. I was mad at myself for dislodging some fridge magnets.”

“Knowing you, you probably slammed the fridge door, bad tempered little devil.”

“If I’d known you were due home I would have shouted more quietly. You never said you’d be this early.”

“I didn’t intend to be, but I figured we needed to discuss a few things.”

“Everything’s ready for the party, Shane, there’s just last minute primping to do.”

“I’m not concerned about fixture and fitting stuff. I’m sure you’ve got everything in hand.” He reached for his tie, loosening the knot and pulling it free of his collar.

Coiling the light blue silk he dropped it onto the kitchen table. He undid his top collar button and then pulled out a chair, motioning me to sit on it.

He looked so serious that I sat down without questioning, my stomach twisting with nervous apprehension. He stood behind the chair, placing his hands on the back of it.

He got straight to the point. “Tonight is going to be a challenge for you, Gilli. It’s the first big party we’ve had in the house since you were told you couldn’t drink. It’s clear from your shitty manner that you’re no closer to accepting the ruling.”

“If you’re talking about this morning I told you I was tired.”

“If you’re offering tiredness as an excuse I’m not buying it. I’ve talked with Dick.

He told me what went on after I’d gone to work.”

I mentally scored Dick off my Christmas card list using a heavy black marker pen, an indelible one. “I know I was well out of order. I called him at lunchtime and apologised.”

“Most magnanimous I’m sure.”

I jumped with fright as he leaned over and landed a stinger of a slap to the top of my left thigh.

“You’ve been told time and again about letting jealousy get the better of you and about asking inappropriate questions.” He graced the top of my right thigh with a slap.

“Do we make comparisons, young man, do we?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry after the event. Not doing it in the first place is the goal you should be aiming for. Now, I want you to tell me how you’re feeling about the party, what’s going through the maelstrom that passes for your mind and don’t say nothing because I won’t believe you.”

“It isn’t going to be a party for me, just a job of work. I’ll be the waiter on duty, not part of the fun. I’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Because you can’t have a drink?”

I nodded.

“Wrong mindset, Gilli. You can have a good time without alcohol.”

“I bet you wouldn’t say that if I served you and everyone else lemonade and orange squash tonight instead of champagne and beer.”

“We don’t have a health problem, darling, but you do. Dick and I refuse to be enablers.”

“Enablers,” I said sourly, “who are they then, a boozy branch of the Masons, but without the funny handshake?”

In the twinkling of an eye I was unseated and his hand walloped across the seat of my jeans, making me yip.

“I’m in no mood for your cheeky sarcasm. You know perfectly well what I mean.”

He then said words that set my heart pounding.

“Go to the playroom and fetch me a nursery cane.”

I stared at him hoping to see a grin and a ‘gotcha’ look on his face. God knows why because he isn’t the joking type. I was grasping at straws, hoping for a miracle.

Didn’t happen. He was serious. His eyes a dark shade of unrelenting. I felt entitled to whine. “Why, for making a joke?”

“I warned you after your birthday carry on that if you continued to resist and resent I’d use a cane. Do as you’re told, get the cane and do it quickly or I’ll fetch one, but it won’t be a nursery or a junior one. It’ll be a senior.”

Talk about heavy footsteps. I walked upstairs feeling as if I was wearing diving boots. I felt faintly nauseous as I lifted the nursery cane off the rack in the playroom. I hate canes. They scare me. They hold no element of eroticism for me. They’re mean cruel instruments regardless of whether they’re baby ones or full size ones. The nursery cane was originally designed for use on nursery age children, which is a truly appalling thought. It’s short and light enough to be used over the knee and looks relatively harmless, but it isn’t. It’s a springy whippy little bitch of a thing. Shane often uses one on Dick for bastinado or as a general warm up cane in a play session. It can pack a sting on the back, palms, soles of the feet, buttocks and legs without causing deep bruising or leaving lasting welts on the skin.

When I returned to the kitchen he’d taken out his cufflinks and rolled up his shirtsleeves. I held the cane out. I must have looked the picture of misery because he shook his head.

“It’s no good looking like that.” He took the cane and after gently bending and swishing it a few times to warm the wood he hooked it over the back of a chair. “You were warned.”

Tilting my chin up he studied my face for a moment or so before saying solemnly.

“You’re going to be a good boy this evening. It’s Dick’s birthday and I want him to enjoy it. You’re going to smile and be pleasant and polite to everyone. There’s going to be no barbed remarks or resentful sighs and surly looks. Clear?”

There was only one response he expected and I gave it. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. It seems you need to hear the rule about alcohol yet again. You no longer drink. It isn’t allowed. You can complain all you like. It will change nothing. You’re not going to wear us down on this issue. I can repeat myself as often as required, it’s no skin off my nose, but it could well be skin off your backside.”

Positioning the chair further away from the table he sat down, put the skinny cane on the floor at his feet and then reached for me, undoing my jeans and pulling them down along with my briefs. My mouth went bone dry as he took me over his knee and drew my right arm behind me, folding it against the small of my back to anchor me and stop me using my hand as a block. He got straight to business, his right palm striking my bottom with a questioning blow. “When I say no to something what do I mean?”

It clearly wasn’t a rhetorical question. I made reply, my eyes watering as his hand smacked down again with force. “When you say no you mean no.”

His hand printed another question on my bottom. “Are you allowed to drink alcohol, Gillibran?”

“No.” Even to my own ears the reply sounded sullen and defiant. It certainly didn’t satisfy Shane, because he repeated the question.

“Are-you-allowed-to-drink-alcohol?”

“No! I’m not allowed.” I shouted reply, kicking up my legs as he underlined every word with a harsh slap.

“Correct. You are not allowed to drink alcohol and for good reason.” He rearranged me, pulling me over his left thigh, pinning my hand again and trapping my legs with his right leg. He then leaned over me to pick the cane up off the floor. “I’m going to give you six strokes. If we need to have this conversation again it will be six strokes with a heavier cane.”

I tensed as the thin cool reed rested against my warm bare skin for a second before being lifted away. There was a brief awful pause followed by a whooshing sound. I squealed and tried to buck as supple rattan cracked across the centre of my arse. A second later the stick whipped my tail again leaving a stinging impression. I yelled.

“Please, Daddy, no more, no more.”

“Four more.” He said firmly.

I screeched at the top of my lungs as the evil twig lashed my buttocks four times in rapid succession before resting.

“You’re not allowed to drink, Gilli, take it on board and keep it on board.”

He concluded punishment with a round of hand spanks. He set me on my feet and stood up. “I’ve got some work I need to do. I’m going to get my laptop from the car.

Pull your pants up and wipe your face. Exercise some self-control.”

When he’d gone I twisted round to inspect my sore bum. It was marked with thin red welts, but the fierce burn was already receding. The nursery cane hurts most while it’s actually striking the flesh whereas the pain from a heavier caning or paddling often continues to develop after it’s actually over because it affects more than the surface layer of the skin.

I indulged in a few moments of rubbing at my buttocks before pulling my pants back up. I rinsed my face and was drying it with kitchen paper when Shane returned to the kitchen with his laptop, which he set on the table.

I watched as he placed the chair he’d punished me on in a corner of the breakfast nook facing the wall. He motioned me over to it, clicking his fingers. “Sit or stand as you need, but keep your face turned to the wall. If you stand place your hands behind your back, if you sit fold your hands on your lap. Sighs, fidgeting, looking round, speaking are not allowed. If you break the rules I’ll punish you again.”

I opted to stand for a while, obediently crossing my hands behind my back. I listened as Shane moved around. He put the kettle on. I heard it boil and click off and then caught a scent of strong coffee as he made himself a cup of instant. He made a set of phone calls, rapping out questions and orders, tearing a strip off someone for not doing something as quickly as he wanted it done. I felt a twinge of sympathy for the unknown person. I bet Shane was a scary bastard to work for, though at least his workforce didn’t have to face physical discipline from him. Then there was silence except for the sound of his fingers on the laptop keyboard.

My legs started aching so I sat down, folding my hands on my lap. I was upset with him, but even so I found it oddly comforting to know he was sitting behind me in the room.

My bottom ached. I stood up, sat down, stood up and sat down again. At last his chair scraped back from the table and I waited for words of liberation. They didn’t come. He left the room. I took the opportunity to have a bit of a sigh and stretch and then sat still again wondering when I’d be eligible for parole. I had things to do, salad dressings to drizzle, crisps and olives to decant into fancy bowls, sausages to put on sticks, that sort of thing. It was a relief to hear him return to the kitchen.

“Get up, Gilli, put the chair away and go upstairs. Take the cane back to the playroom. I’ve run you a bath, have a steep and try to relax, concentrate on getting yourself in the right frame of mind for this evening. I’ve got a call to make, but then I’ll come up and wash you.”

The bathwater was hot briefly reawakening the sting in my backside as I lowered myself into it. It soon wore off and I lay back and closed my eyes, enjoying the steamy soothing warmth, listening out for Shane, my cock twitching in pleasant anticipation of some none disciplinary alpha attention from him.

It wasn’t exactly gentle attention. He briskly washed my hair and body, paying particular attention to my intimate parts, pulling back my foreskin when he washed my cock, slipping soapy fingers into my back passage, smoothing his hand over my chastised bottom, letting me know he owned and was in charge of me. It’s a form of domination I particularly like. It makes me feel secure. It also arouses me. He gave my bottom a little slap and told me to tell the pup to stand down, as it didn’t deserve to be petted.

Afterwards he dried me, rubbing a towel over my body with vigorous efficiency.

“I want you staying in sight this evening, Gilli. I don’t want you sloping off like you’ve been doing when we visit friends lately.”

“I don’t slope off.”

“Yes you do, you look for the first opportunity to avoid socialising. You slip off to the kitchen, the garden, wherever you can avoid contact. I’m not having it.” He patted my rump. “What you’ve just had was a taster. If I have to play seeker to your hider tonight I’ll show you how much pain a nursery cane can really inflict if used hard and long enough.”