Submissive in Surrey

Submissive in Surrey

Chapter 4: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I was driven out of a restful, dreamless slumber by a nagging itch between my shoulder blades. Muttering a curse, I reached out to Myf, but all I found was a cooling empty space next to me. Dry-mouthed and fuzzy-headed, I sat up and blinked myself fully awake and looked around. All I saw was Myf's bedroom, with no sign of the woman herself. I looked over to her bedside clock, which read 06:46 in liquid-crystal precision.

Various aches, pains and that persistent itch conspired to refuse me re-entry to sleep. Besides, I wanted to find out where Myf was. The thought of the sweet girl with the blonde pixie cut made me smile as I remembered the previous night. What a way to break a long sexual drought!

I noticed a post-it stuck to the pillow on Myf's side of the queen-size bed. It read "Thanks for being my sub for a day. - Myf" and then a drawing of a heart. I smiled and wondered if she should really be the thankful one.

I gingerly got out of bed; and then, across the room, sitting on a desk, I saw what I was looking for: my pack of Silk Cut. Myf had returned them to me, as good as her word. I audibly let out a relieved sigh, as I hadn't gone this long without a cigarette in quite some time. Still, even if I had a lighter - I didn't - there was no way I'd light up in Myf's room. No, I had to get back to my own room for more than one reason. For one thing, I had precisely zero items of clothing with me. I'd been nude since early evening last night, when Myf ordered me to the TV room. A long time to be naked with a cute girl. It reminded me of that first long weekend with Flic.

And of course, memory being the thing it is, that reminded me of our break-up; and with a sinking feeling in my gut, I heard the Ugly Voice wake up with me. I sighed, and spotting Myf's robe, put it on. Made as it was for a shorter girl, it was nearly as indecent as being naked. Still, it was what I had, so I peered out the door and made my way to my own room. It was silly to worry, really. A big place like this with only three people meant I had practically no chance of being seen, and both Jan and Myf had seen me naked. Hell, Myf could probably give an accurate count of my freckles by now!

Back in my room, I got dressed in jeans and knockoff Grateful Dead t-shirt and stood in the balcony. I looked at my cigarettes and felt the familiar tug of addiction; then I thought of dear, sweet, smoking-phobic Myf, and decided I could wait a bit longer. So instead, I headed downstairs, looking first in the kitchen, where I found Myf, dressed conventionally for once, removing a heavenly-smelling loaf of freshly baked bread from the oven.

"So are you always up at sparrow-fart, Myf?" I asked, wisely waiting until she'd put the hot baking tray down.

She turned, smiled, and gave me a hug. "Good morning, Netty! Yes, usually. Mistress likes to leave early when she has a London stayover. Beats the traffic, she says. So she could be home at any moment."

"At any moment" came along in just over half an hour. Jan found both of us, still in the kitchen, and I got myself out of the way as Myf hurried to embrace her Mistress. Jan chuckled and said "I missed you too" and I felt like I shouldn't be in the same room as the two of them; but Jan stopped me as I was on my way out. "And how are you feeling, Annette?"

I responded that I was fine except for the nagging itch where I couldn't scratch. "Itching is good! It usually means you're healing well," Jan explained. "I'll have a good look later, but I've been looking forward to a home-cooked breakfast."

As we ate, I stole glances at Jan, partly because she was magnetic in her beauty, but also because she was looking just a bit drawn around the eyes. Her expression gave little away, but I thought it was either fatigue or stress. Meanwhile, Myf couldn't do enough for her; refilling her cup, asking if she wanted more bacon, flirting on the fringe of an annoying level of attention. I took it all in and smiled softly. She was so in love.

Finally, Jan drained her cup, complimented Myf on the meal, and said "I need to get you to cooking college soon, but we've a little time. Why don't you tell me, Annette, how it went with you and Myf yesterday? Did you get her to do anything embarrassing?"

"Um, well, first I got her to make me breakfast, and then..."

Jan looked less than impressed. As I tried to continue, Myf jumped in. "Oh, Mistress, she bottled it! You were right, she couldn't wait to turn around and go submissive on me..."

"Be kind, Myfanwy. It's not a contest you can win. Annette was there to learn something about herself." Jan must have seen me turn bright red at hearing Myf's triumphant claims, and maybe felt sorry for me. "And there isn't anything inferior or shameful about submitting, is there, Myf?"

"Um, no. Sorry, Mistress. Sorry, Netty."

"Very well then," Jan continued, "you tell me what happened after that, Myf."

"Well, Netty started out well. She got me to pack a lunch and we went to the hedge maze to eat it, and then I started eating her..."

"Crudely put, but I get it. Then?"

I looked at Myf, then back to Jan. They could have been discussing a shopping list, but my face was still burning. What was that Jan said? "Sharing" was okay? I was starting to think "sharing" might have been a regular thing for them. But Myf had started talking again and I had to pay attention.

"Well anyway, I was waiting for her to order me to make her cum, but she begged for it instead, and that's when I knew - sorry, Netty - and I took off the leash and put it around her neck..."

"I think possibly you took advantage of Annette's inexperience, Poppet. But if you were both having fun, no harm. So what happened next?"

Myf looked even more excited, if that was possible. "Oh, Mistress, you won't believe it. I didn't believe it and I was there. Netty told me she wanted a look at your Mini, and she opened it up and fixed it! I mean, she was all over the place with a grease gun, and doing things with the spark plugs, and other things, I don't know, and she was just like Charlene from "Neighbours", only taller, and sooo clever, and..."

"WHAT."

The single word from Jan cracked out like summer thunder and silenced Myf. I felt like someone was walking on my grave.

"Annette. Is. This. True? Tell me." Biting off and spitting out each word.

I quavered, but managed to find my voice. "Yes, it's true. You told me you didn't believe it was roadworthy, and..."

Jan raised a finger like a schoolmarm silencing a wayward pupil. "So, if I have this correct..." Her voice was eerily low and controlled. "And do tell me if I'm wrong, because I would dearly like to be wrong. You, Annette, stole my car keys and broke into my car - a nearly sixty year old vintage Mini Cooper S, very difficult to find, very expensive, and very rare; and despite being completely unqualified, you did god-knows what to its engine, caused god-knows what damage, for whatever end... "

My mouth was moving but nothing was emerging. Myf, bless her, tried to intervene. "It's not like that, Mis..."

Jan turned her gaze on Myf. "And you. Let her."

Myf started to speak again. Jan said, "Be. QUIET." She rubbed at her temple. "There's no time to deal with this. You need to get to class. Let's get going."

She said nothing to me, but I did catch a glare filled with venom. It was a little while before I was able to speak.

"I was just trying to help," I said to an empty house.

.....

I trudged through empty halls back toward my room, feeling sick to my stomach. How could it have all gone so wrong? The Ugly Voice was happy to tell me all about it as I walked like a condemned woman on her way to the guillotine.

There was only one thing to do now. Pack my things, because it was odds-on I was now

persona non grata.

With that done, and not taking very long at all, I pondered whether I should just leave without further ado. Running away from my failures. Again.

It took a few minutes to make up my mind. Jan believed I was a thief, a vandal or both. Leaving without saying anything would just convince her that she was right, so no matter how awkward or painful it would be, I had to stay and tell her my version of the story. Anyway, why deprive her of the satisfaction of kicking me out?

With my bag packed, I wondered what to do with myself. I stepped out onto the balcony and looked out at the grounds of Jan's estate, and the forest beyond. It was all so beautiful, but I didn't belong there. The Ugly Voice agreed.

Well, at least I could vandalise my lungs while I waited for Jan to return and lower the boom. I picked out a Silk Cut from the pack and dangled it from my lips, and without even lighting it, I immediately felt nauseous. Nope. No solace to be found there. Instead, I fired up my iPod and set it to shuffle. After a moment, the voice of Rickie Lee Jones filled my ears. Hardly surprising, she was my favourite chanteuse, and so, was well represented on my playlist; but the damn little electronic box of tricks chose maybe the saddest song in the Duchess of Coolsville's catalogue to play for me. "Company," from her first album. A song about loneliness and longing, and resignation. I forced myself to listen to it and the tears started to brim over. When it ended, I sniffled back my tears, hoping that the next song would be upbeat, or at least soothing; but then the battery died, and I realised I didn't have my recharge cable with me.

It was the last straw. I put my head in my hands and wept.

I don't know how long my little pity party lasted, but it ended when I heard Jan's Bentley returning.

Stand by to receive,

I thought. At least it would be over and done with. It was nice knowing you, Myf, and it would have been nice to get to know Jan better, but now that was never going to happen.

And then, the next thing I heard was the bass rumble of a large motorcycle engine. Jan had taken her Vincent out. Why? To keep me in suspense? To give her time to think? Or was it just she couldn't stand to be near me?

It didn't matter why. I was alone. I had to do something or go mad. Normally I'd go for a run and try to turn my brain off that way, but running was out given my condition. So I walked back downstairs and looked for something to read. Jan's library provided - Erich Maria Remarque's

All Quiet on the Western Front,

a book I'd vaguely heard of, but never read.

Several hours passed as I became engrossed in young Paul Baumer and his former classmates, trying and failing to survive the horrors of trench warfare in the First World War. Eventually, though, I heard the Vincent return, and then the Bentley leave, so I knew Jan would soon be back with Myf. I figured that she'd waited for Myf to be present when I was ejected, so she could say goodbye, if nothing else. I put the book down and waited in the atrium.

Soon enough, the Bentley returned. Jan entered first, with an expression that was just a little too neutral to be real. Behind her was Myf, looking like someone had shot her dog. Clearly, she'd been given the rounds of the kitchen on the way home. Jan saw me waiting and said, "Annette. Good. This isn't pleasant, so at least we can get on with it quickly."

I waited, silent, letting her speak. I didn't have to wait long. "Myf, go to the basement and prepare yourself while I tell Annette what's going to happen."

What the fuck,

I thought. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"On your way," Jan ordered to Myf, who was clearly hesitant to leave. Then she turned to me. "Myf has been vocal in your defence. She claimed that you'd done no harm to the car. But she's hardly qualified to make a judgment on that, and even so, it doesn't change the fact that you've admitted to entering the garage and taking it on yourself to tinker with a valuable piece of my property, without my permission or even my knowledge. Can you see why that's wrong, Annette?"

"Yes." The Ugly Voice was roaring in my ears.

"You had no right to do this. As a guest in my home, there are certain rules of decorum and propriety that while unwritten, should be followed. Acts of vandalism on private property are simply beyond the pale."

"It wasn't vandalism," I protested, bur my voice was barely a squeak, so intimidating Jan was at this moment. "I wanted to help, to get the Mini in working order - to thank you for helping me."

Jan sighed. "Perhaps 'vandalism' was too strong a word. You acted on impulse. You need to learn to curb such impulses. Had you learned this earlier, you might not have been injured."

A hard little ball of anger and outrage was beginning to grow in my belly, and the Ugly Voice was receding. "So what happens now?" I asked, already knowing I wasn't going to like the answer.

"What happens next is we both go to the basement. You are my guest, and as such I cannot punish you, so Myf is going to be punished in your stead. She did give you the keys that made your trespass possible. She will first receive the ten strokes with the small paddle that's owing to her from the other night, and then five strokes with the cane."

The Ugly Voice was gone. The outrage ball was growing cold and hard within me. "So you're going to punish Myf for something I did, and make me watch."

"Yes."

"No, you're not."

"Excuse me?"

I moved back and to a small alcove in the atrium, and pulled out my suitcase from where I'd left it. "I was prepared to be kicked out of here today. I'm packed and ready to go, and I'm telling you now: That girl down in the basement adores you. She worships you. That's a great thing you've got going, and if you hurt her, punish her, for something I did, you'll put a crack in that love she has. Maybe not a big crack, but cracks always grow. The only thing she did wrong was obey me, after you told her to."

I was staring her in the eyes. There was no emotion in me stronger than the outrage ball. "And if you do hurt her, it won't teach the lesson you obviously want to teach me, because if you take one step toward the basement, I will walk out that door and you will never see me again."

The expression on Jan's face was one of disbelief. She thought I was bluffing. "Oh? Where would you go? What would you do?"

"I don't know. They say Scotland's nice this time of year. Or maybe I'll swallow my pride and go crawling back home to my parents. It won't be any of your concern, anyway."

"I could stop you - "

I laughed. It was a nasty laugh. "I'd like to see you try."

The moment hung in the air as we stared at each other. Finally, stalemated, Jan deflated slightly. "So, you believe there should be no punishment for what you did?"

"No. I believe I did do the wrong thing, no matter my good intentions. What I'm proposing is that you punish the right person. Me."

Jan was genuinely surprised. "I can't punish you! For one thing, you're already injured. For another, you're not my submissive. It would be assault."

"For God's sake, where do you normally cane someone? On the arse? My arse is fine - Just ask Myf, she spanked it last night. And if you're so damn concerned about technicalities, just slap a collar on me for however long it takes! Any other objections?"

Jan didn't look happy, but she eventually said "Fine. Follow me."

For the second time, I descended into Jan's basement dungeon, but this time with full knowledge of what would happen once there. Myf, who believed she knew what would happen, was there already, kneeling, naked, beside a steel and padding contraption that I guessed must be a whipping bench.

"Take up the position, Myf," Jan ordered.

"But -" I stammered.

As though I'd said nothing, Jan continued. "After I give you the ten with the paddle I owe you, it'll be Annette's turn. She has successfully persuaded me that you don't deserve a caning and that she does."

Myf gasped, in wide-eyed disbelief, but she was wise enough to say nothing. Unlike me.

"Give me the paddle as well. Myf wouldn't have earned that if I wasn't here..."

"You are getting on my nerves," Jan snapped. "You know being paddled first will make the cane hurt more, don't you?"

"You were going to do both to Myf, so why are you concerned?"

I might have gone too far with that one. Myf was looking at me with her hands over her mouth like a child frightened for a sibling.

"Your lucky day, Myf. It appears Annette needs two lessons, so she can have two punishments." Jan sounded remarkably calm; but then, she wasn't going to be the one on the receiving end. "But don't go away. You get to watch." Then she turned to address me. "This is not going to be a fun, sexy punishment - especially not the second part. I will do my best to not break your skin, but this will hurt a great deal, and leave welts. I trust you understand that. This is your last chance to reconsider."

I couldn't speak; my mouth was too dry. I shook my head instead. Myf started to speak but a single glance from Jan silenced her. "Very well," Jan said. "Annette, remove your jeans and panties, then Myf will show you how to mount the bench."

The apparatus had a skeleton of steel tubing, over which were placed leather-skinned pads. Two legs extended down with a horizontal pad on each, intended for my legs to rest on. A larger, wider pad was for my torso, and two more for my arms. Myf assisted me in getting into position. "Fasten the leg cuffs," Jan instructed. "I don't want her legs thrashing about when I cane her." I heard the sound and felt the tightness of Velcro cuffs holding my lower legs in place. Then Jan showed me that the leg pads could swivel horizontally, and set my legs about ten degrees apart. That was the whipping bench's first surprise. I was trying - unsuccessfully - to control my breathing when Jan said, "You can have the wrist cuffs in place, or not. Your choice."

I didn't know what to say to that, but Myf piped up. "I'll hold Netty's hands, if that's all right, Mistress."

Jan said nothing to that, but made an adjustment resulting in the second of the bench's surprises for me. The torso pad swivelled downwards so my head ended up lower than my arse. At once I realised this set-up made my butt stick out proudly, but more importantly, put tension on my nether regions. Not that my buttocks were well-padded to begin with, but now they had less cushioning than ever.

This really was going to hurt.

Jan had shown me the paddle. As advertised it was quite small, barely larger in striking area than a wooden kitchen spoon, and thankfully had no studs or raised areas on its surface.

"Myf, you may count," Jan announced. Myf squatted in front of me, holding both my hands and locking her gaze on me, letting me know I wasn't alone.

I was expecting Jan to ask me if I was ready, but without preamble the paddle whapped down on my left buttock, and it hurt more than I'd imagined it would. Not enough to make me cry out, but enough to make me exhale noisily, let's say. I gritted my teeth and it came out as a hiss.

"Don't tense up," Myf advised. "It'll hurt more. Try to relax your body."

"Myf." The single word from Jan was a warning.

"One, Mistress." Myf said that out loud, but mouthed "thank you" silently to me.

The paddle came down on on my right butt cheek with a harsh slap of leather on skin and another jolt to my nerve endings. The pain was sharp and sudden, but faded quickly. "Two," Myf said.

Three, four, five and six followed, with Jan alternating strikes from left to right and I found that the pain wasn't fading like before - it was building. Blood was rushing to the injured area, my own body betraying me by making the area more sensitive. I inhaled and exhaled deeply in an effort to control the pain. Still, it was bearable. Myf faithfully kept the count while squeezing my hands. Jan, meanwhile, spoke not a word. As I couldn't see her expression, her silence made her seem like a force more than a person. Waste of breath to say anything. Better to get it over with.