The Siren, the General's Daughter Book One (11 page)

“I have a preference, none,” she answered, winded. She knew he was giving her some time to prepare.

“I see. How many do you think Uncle Scott would give you?”

Her sudden cry got his attention. He knew Scott was hard on her and he witnessed the results at that moment. Scott would not be giving her an option and judged the effectiveness of his discipline by reaction and pushing her to the limit. Her fear of Scott’s disappointment was well-founded. It was time she felt the same about her father.

“Hmmm, that many? I want you to count. You will receive 20 strokes with this belt. That bottom is not to budge. I understand that Scott uses a do-over clause. That will also apply to me in this circumstance. Understand?”

“I’m sorrrrrrrrrry, Daddy! Pleeeeeeease don’t!”

“Start counting.”

Sam bawled out the numbers, trying so hard to mind him but finding it almost impossible. She kicked her feet as she gripped the bedcover, unable to utter an intelligible word once she reached the tenth count. Dr. Quimby quickly finished the final 10, concentrating on her sit spots and upper thighs, and then placed the belt down near her head. He sat next to her, his warm hand gently stroking her back as he swallowed his own tears. He hated to bring her so much pain, but Scott was right. It was better from those who loved her than some drug runner she intercepted. This type of pain only prevented sitting, the other could mean death.

“I love you baby,” he said softly, pulling her into his arms. She curled into a ball on his lap and sobbed into his shirt as she gripped it tightly. He rocked her gently, soothing her while kissing her head. “Shhhh, it’s over. It’s ok. Go on, you can cry. I’ll stay here as long as you need me.”

Sam’s tears seemed to have no end and she fell asleep crying in his arms within the hour. Ever so gently, he put her into his bed and covered her with a sheet. After placing a bottle of water and a box of tissues on his end table, he returned to work.

A couple of hours later, he called his son to his office. Dr. Quimby beckoned for him to enter and have a seat. Closing the door behind him, Michael obeyed and waited for his father to speak. “Your sister will be out of commission for a couple of days, I’m afraid. She won’t be giving you any problems for a while.”

“I’m sorry it had to go that way, but I didn’t think you would appreciate either the direct defiance or the pod thing,” Michael said quietly.

“You are correct. I finally understand Scott’s reasoning. I think I made him out to be a softie today.”

“Wow, you must have really laid it on her. Poor thing.”

“She’ll survive. Mike, I don’t want you ever to leave the bruises we have had to, ok? Let Scott and me be the hard asses. And I really don’t want you disciplining her in public again.”

“Dad, she pushed it in front of the men. I spoke with Scott already and he agreed this was not out of line. I didn’t expose her.”

“Ok, just try to be discreet if you can help it. I trust your judgment.”

“You don’t look so hot,” Michael said with concern.

“I don’t feel so hot. This really drained me. I don’t know how Scott does it.”

“Many more years practice, my friend. I had a kid sister who pushed every button I had plus one’s I didn’t,” Scott said, entering without knocking. He plopped in the chair next to Michael. “Tough session, huh?”

“I made you look like a jellyfish,” his friend sounded sad.

“Good, then maybe she’ll think twice before messing with either of us,” Scott smiled.  He patted his brother-in-law’s hand. “Believe me, buddy, you’ve done no damage. We already know she can psychologically handle this, and that little body has been through so much more than a bruised backside. The difference is the humiliation and submission factor. She needs to be able to fear your disappointment as much as she needs to trust you. I know how you feel. I’ve been there on many occasions. Think of it like training our boys for war. It’s better we are tough on them in boot camp so they are prepared. It could save their lives.”

“But she’s just a child….”

“She’s a young adult with adult responsibilities and a very unique situation. I think your issue is not her age, but her gender. I will remind you that your little girl helped kick the shit out of us in the ring,” Scott shot a glance at his nephew.  “
Do not
repeat that statement to anyone, young man.”

Michael tried to hide the slight smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Uncle Scott.”

“Mike? Do you have an opinion here? I’d like to hear it,” his father asked.

Michael considered his response. “I’m caught in the middle. I agree with both of you completely, and I think Scott has a point. Still, I struggle with wanting to protect her from harm, even to her backside. To be honest, and I know this is a sore spot, but if we were ever captured,” he looked at his father carefully—that was his primary fear—“she would not be concerned about her own pain. The worse thing for her is if they harmed me. That’s why she risked her life when I was seized. So, unless you are planning on punishing me to get through to her, I see no other course than the one you are taking.”

“You are one smart kid,” Scott said, watching Michael blush.

Dr. Quimby nodded. “Smarter than we are. Ok, we continue with our direction. Who wants to check on her?”

“I will. I want to see how I now look like a jellyfish,” Scott grinned, standing. He walked up to the officer’s deck and down to the commanding officer staterooms. Chuckling, he admitted it would be good to be home with normal sized accommodations and the ability to walk around the house in his skivvies if he wanted to. Without knocking, he entered Dr. Quimby’s quarters and headed back to the bedroom.

Sam was still sleeping on her stomach, her hair tangled in her face and still a bit puffy around the eyes. He gently stroked the long tresses, tucking them behind her ear. In her sleep, she looked like she was only 10, her delicate features softened and her smart mouth not running. She moved, whimpering, at his touch. He lifted the blankets to look at the damage and bit his lower lip as he touched the angry welts.

“My poor princess, Daddy really did make me look like a jellyfish this time. Please, please, learn your lesson so we don’t have to keep doing this,” he whispered, covering her and leaning over to kiss her temple. Her eyes fluttered opened. “Hey baby, just came in to check on you.” He handed her the bottle of water.

She tried to sit up without success. “Uncle Scott, I really pushed him this time. He was worse than you.” She sounded sad.

Scott’s voice soft and soothing as he touched her face. “I saw. Want to talk?”

“Not yet. I just need cuddles.” Scott stretched out next to her on the bed and pulled her against his chest with his arms around her shoulders and his lips on top of her head. He was careful to protect her bruised posterior. After a few minutes, they started talking in very soft tones. Sam, listening to his heartbeat, had almost forgotten that her demonstrative uncle had such a soft, tender side. It shamed her, being so afraid of him. She admitted her guilt and received a gentle hug.

“You know you can always come to us if you have a problem or are being tempted to do something you know you shouldn’t. Neither Dad nor I are quick to judge. You know that.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry with me. I fucked up bad.”

Scott stiffened at her choice of words. They were not said out of disrespect, but out of truth. She hadn’t even noticed. He decided to overlook it. “Yes, you did. You not only put yourself in a very unprofessional position, but your crew in danger as well. Like usual, you weren’t thinking.”

“No, Sir. Will he ever forgive me?” She sounded tiny and frightened.

Scott frowned, looking down at her. “My sweetness, what do you think? That is one reason we engage in corporal punishment. It lets you know you paid the price and have been forgiven. Why? Are you still feeling guilty after all this?”

Hesitating, she nodded, and stated her guilt swayed more towards how she treated her brother.

Scott hummed, thinking. “Yes, I can understand that. How about you wait until we get home and get settled, then you can talk with Mike privately about easing your guilt. I’m sure he’d be open to discuss it.”

“Yes, Sir. Will you give him a head’s up?”

“By all means. I want you to heal a bit before you take on another ass-whipping,” he grinned, squeezing her tight.

She sighed. “Me too, Uncle Scott, me too.”

***

“It is so good to be home,” Dr. Quimby sighed as he tossed his duffle bag down in the foyer and plopped onto the huge leather couch in the sunken in living room.

Scott joined him, collapsing into his favorite recliner. “It’s been forever. A real TV….”

“How about real food, I’m starving,” Michael announced, sitting on his father’s stomach.

Growling, Dr. Quimby pushed him off and wrestled his son to the floor. Smiling, Scott and his niece moved the furniture out of the way. Yes, they were home. After 15 minutes of rough housing, father and son resumed their positions on the couch. Dr. Quimby pulled his daughter carefully onto his lap. It had only been three days, and she still was unable to sit comfortably or sleep well.

“Food then. What do you want?”

“Pizza!” The unanimous vote was in.

“Pizza it is.” He called in the delivery and stared at the phone in his hand. “I almost forgot how to use a real telephone. Has it been that long?”

“Nine months at sea. It looks like they did a good job on keeping the house up,” Scott said, walking to the back wall and opening the long curtains. The glass sparkled in the mid-day sun, letting light into the room. He opened the French doors, feeling the salt air blow in. “Mmmm, never get tired of the smell of the sea. Hey, Sam, come look!”

She joined her uncle on the high deck that overlooked the cliff and deep bay. Ton was rolling in the waves of their private enclosure. He was happy to be home too. Sam looked at her uncle with pleading eyes and he sighed. “Fine with me, but check with Dad.”

“One hour, then home, okay,” Dr. Quimby said as she begged permission to swim. “Wetsuit.”

“Yes, Sir. Thanks!” she smiled, picking up her duffle bag and slowly starting up the stairs to her bedroom.

Michael hopped up to help her, grabbing both of their bags. “Want some company?” he asked, pulling out her suit.

“Yes, please. Um, did Uncle Scott talk with you?”

“About what?” her brother asked, from his room across the hall.

“Me. I still feel bad about how I treated you, especially in front of the men.”

“Yes, he spoke with me about it. Do you have something on your mind?” Michael asked, entering her room, dressed in his wetsuit.

“I’m really sorry for it. Please forgive me.” She wrapped her arms around his rock hard waist.

Amused, her brother hugged her back. He was going to make her ask. “Of course I forgive you. Let’s get in the water.”

Sam stared at his broad back as he exited the room. Didn’t the dork get it? Hmm, guess not. Well, she wasn’t quite up to receiving anymore bruises yet, she was still way too tender. The two walked onto the deck and, with a wave good-bye, dove over into the deep inclusion that had been dug to house submersibles. Dr. Quimby held his breath. He hated when they did that although he knew it was as safe as a cliff dive could be. They sliced the water cleanly and propelled to the kelp beds with Ton following happily. Fitted with neurobands, they paused to ‘feel’ the area.

Word was quickly spreading that the land walkers had returned. A pod of dolphin approached them, jumping, squealing and splashing happily. Confusion was communicated with the girl (a storm, dark water) and she unsuccessfully explained what had occurred to alter her body. Ton intervened with an image of a beached whale that returned to sea.

“Interesting. He views your accident as an illness,” Michael commented, catching the pictures. “No wonder he is so protective of you.”

“More cultural diversity to study, huh? Even more interesting is that they were able to sense it.” His sister smiled, accepting a ‘gift’ from one of the dolphins—a Bonita. It knew she was hungry. Without hesitation, she bit into the fish before sharing it with the pod. Pleased with her courtesy, the pod dispersed.

Her brother, however, was disgusted. “That was gross. How could you?”

“We eat sushi, right? What’s the difference? It was an offering of acceptance and welcome. To do anything else would be rude. Besides, I am hungry. Let’s go home.”

Two extra-large pizzas disappeared in minutes. Scott wrinkled his nose at the smell of fish, and Michael shared how his sister responded to the pod’s gift. Making a gagging sound, Scott ordered them to clean up and get their gear in order. Both quickly obeyed.

“How long are you thinking of taking for leave?” Dr. Quimby asked, picking up his gear before heading up to his room.

Scott shrugged. “A month. Maybe I should just retire. Stay on as a civilian. You?”

“A month sounds good. I think it would be good to reacquaint us as a family. Let’s process it for the kids too.”

“Sounds like a plan. I am gonna hit a long, hot shower then take a nap in a real bed,” Scott announced, turning towards his room downstairs.

Sam leaned back against the headboard of her soft, queen sized bed. It felt so good to be home. Her picture windows overlooking the ocean were wide open and a breeze permeated the room. The sun shimmered brightly, highlighting the gold tint in the walls and making the golden oak furnishings glow. The bed even felt good against her still sore bottom. She thought about her actions—never would that be repeated again.

Michael entered without knocking, plopping on her bed. “Whatcha doing?” he asked, poking her leg.

She eyed him. “Trying to relax. I see being off ship is putting you in a good mood.”

“Sis, you have no idea. It’s so hard to be the one in charge all the time. I want to mess around too, but never can. Sometimes,” he turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling, “I wish I could be a kid again. “

“Daddy always brings that out in you when you two play,” his sister responded, rubbing his side with her foot. “I love watching you guys mess around, it’s so cute.”