Authors Note: These chapters will make almost no sense if not read in order. If you haven't, I strongly suggest you go back to the introduction and chapter 1.
This chapter continues Clair's torments but includes an interlude where he 'checks in' with Clair, continuing the theme that communication is critical to consensual BDSM.
Enjoy.
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Gran's house had a broad porch around three sides with rocking chairs and a bench swing hung from the ceiling. As they reached the porch Fred looked again at Clair's dirty feet and changed his plan. He was originally going to make Clair kneel on the kitchen floor while he ate lunch. Now he decided she would have to kneel on the porch. Improvising, Fred realized that the railing around the porch had iron spindles. He took the bag from Clair and pulled out the handcuffs. Pushing Clair gently back against the railing he locked one cuff around the ankle that still had the dirty Vet Wrap. These were handcuffs, not leg cuffs and It just barely fit to the first 'click'. He put the second cuff around one of the iron spindles. Fred realized that if Clair threw her full weight against the spindle, it would probably bend or break out of the 2 X 4 top rail, but he hoped she didn't think about that. He wasn't worried about her running away; he was just trying to provide the scene he thought she needed by controlling her completely.
Fred pointed at the floor and Clair kneeled. He handed her the last water bottle out of the bag and said, "Drink it all," then he surveyed the lovely sight before him. Dirty, hardly covered in a burlap dress, exhausted and smiling up at him as she opened the water bottle and said, "Yes Sir." It was a mystery how you could love someone so intensely and still get hard seeing them like this.
As Fred looked, he thought, "something is missing." Then he remembered something he had seen in the tack room when he was looking for the chair. Gran's departed husband had all kinds of stuff in that barn that Gran had never bothered to sort or throw out. Fred walked back to the tack room and, yep, there were several lengths of chain hanging on nails along with what looked like accessories for the Farm Tractor. Fred guessed these chains may have been used as a part of the accessories, but he didn't care. He selected one that looked to be about five feet long and had links just long enough to get a padlock through.
On his way back to the house, Fred picked up a couple of padlocks he had seen in the top of one of George's old toolboxes. He hoped the keys for these were in the mason jar in the kitchen. He needn't have worried as long ago George had purchased dozens of keyed alike padlocks, so he never had to fish for the right key. Fred dropped the chain at Clair's feet without saying a word as he walked past her into the Kitchen. "Let her think about that," he thought with a smile as he carried the padlocks into the kitchen. The first key he tried fit and that's when he realized the padlocks were keyed alike. "Cool!"
Fred went into the bathroom to retrieve his dress shoes where he had dropped them last night. He found Clair, still kneeling, an empty water bottle by her side waiting patiently.
"Good Girl for drinking all that water," Fred said automatically as he dropped the shoes at her knees and picked up the chain. He wrapped one end of the chain around Clair's neck gently moving her hair as he did so. He considered a layer of Vet Wrap but decided that it would be too constrictive around the neck and besides, this chain wasn't going to be moving or chaffing that much.
Fred wrapped the other end of the chain around the top rail of the porch railing. He made sure Clair had about 2 feet of slack. That was enough to allow her to change her position some and to reach the floor with her hands, but not enough to allow her to stand or to lay down. Fred stood back and looked at his handiwork. When he noticed Clair's pussy peeking out from under the Burlap it suddenly occurred to him to ask, "Clair, do you need to pee?"
At first Clair thought he was going to make her pee, right here on Gran's porch! But when she looked at his furrowed face, she realized he thought he had screwed up. He should have asked her that BEFORE he got her all chained up. Taking pity on him, she said cheerfully, "Not quite yet sir," which was true, she was starting to feel the need but was not desperate. She just hoped he got the message that it wouldn't be long.
Fred relaxed, and yes, yet again he understood his girlfriend perfectly. "Do you see what your laziness did to my good dress shoes last night! Because you were crawling too slow, I had to walk through the mud!" Fred's words were stern and commanding, but his tone was completely conversational, and he was smiling from ear to ear. "What the hell did he have planned," thought Clair.
"I expect you to clean every inch of those while I have lunch," Fred said, "I assume you've heard the term 'spit shine.'"
"Oh Hell No," thought Clair, "there's horse piss and who knows what else in that mud, it's bad enough that I had to crawl through it and then wear it last night!" But Fred had not given her time to consider a reply, he was gone, already in the kitchen.
Clair stared at the shoes. She couldn't' do this. She had to do this. The bile rose in her throat just thinking about it. But she had gotten his 'church' shoes dirty. Clair didn't believe that it was because she hadn't crawled fast enough, she had tried her best, that was just Fred's excuse for dragging her. But she had asked for the shed, talked him into it and as a result his shoes were nearly ruined. She wanted him to know she was grateful for his effort, for how much he loved her, she wanted to be his 'good girl." She had to do this!
Clair picked up the shoes and started by using her fingers to wipe off as much of the dried mud as she could. Clair didn't have long fingernails because it was impossible to keep fashionable nails and play women's sports. But she did keep them neat and polished. She started digging the dirt out from around the souls and heels anyway. Then she spit on the shoe and tried to clean it that way. It quickly became apparent that wasn't getting them clean enough. She also realized why Fred had made her drink another whole bottle of water but hadn't left her another full one.
"Shit," she thought. Then she grimaced and thought "exactly," as she raised the shoe up to her mouth and started to lick. It took every bit of control not to throw up. The grit and mud got everywhere in her mouth. After several licks she was sure she swallowed some. She spat and had the good sense to spit through the railing into the yard. Despite drinking water, She barely had enough saliva to get the dirt off her tongue, but not enough to rinse out her mouth. She blanked her mind and just kept licking.
Fred fixed a deli sliced chicken sandwich with some Cheetos and a coke. As he ate, he listened to Clair gagging, retching, and spitting though the screen door. He almost took pity on her. Almost. Instead, as he ate lunch, he planned out Clair's afternoon and evening. When he was finished, he looked out through the screen door. Clair had licked all the mud off one shoe and was almost finished cleaning the bulk of the mud off the second, but it was obvious, as he looked at the drying saliva on the shoes, that this just wasn't going to cut it. For Clair, this was a challenging and humiliating task, but Fred really did want his shoes to be clean too!
Fred went searching in Leon's closet and found a tin of black shoe polish, a brush and a polishing rag. He hoped their permission to borrow 'anything in the house' extended to semi personal items like a shoeshine kit. In the kitchen he pulled out one of Gran's large cookie sheets and a half a bag of uncooked rice. Fred poured the rice into the cookie sheet, pulled up his right pant leg and knelt in the uncooked rice. In one of the porn video's Fred had watched in the Barn, he had seen a sub forced to kneel in rice. It seemed the model's reaction in that video was a bit over the top, but he knew that porn models frequently overacted. Fred didn't want to make another overreach out of ignorance, he was still feeling guilty about the bruises on Clair's ass. He might beat or whip Clair to create bruises or worse later but when he did it would be intentional and controlled. What bothered him about last night is that he had not intended to hit her that hard. So, he tried the rice himself. Painful but bearable was the verdict.
Fred piled the Shoeshine implements on the Cookie sheet with the rice, grabbed a couple of more bottles of water and headed out the door. Clair was just finishing getting mud off the heel of the second shoe. Fred put the cookie sheet on the floor, kneeling in front of Clair as he did so. He took the shoe out of her hand and inspected it then put it on the floor next to the other.
Handing Clair an open bottle of water he simply said, "Swish and spit!" "Again." "Tilt Back."
Clair had never been so thankful for something as simple as water. The grit from the mud was everywhere in her mouth.
Fred poured the remainder of the bottle slowly over Clair's face, wiping the saliva and mud off her lips and chin with soft loving strokes. He then opened the second bottle of water and poured it down the front of her burlap dress and over her cleavage. About a half the bottle remained so he handed it to her and said simply, "Drink."
