At the time his words stung, though, in hindsight I realize I didn’t know what I was getting myself into; but being banned from his presence as if my existence disgusted him which hurt more than I dared say. If he wanted me gone, why didn’t he fire me after he caught me snoopy? Banned from the stairs, I kicked up the job search, and I began researching the spanking fetish. I found a few ‘friends’ through a local meetup group with whom I spent the evenings chatting online.

Neil was the groups’ founder. A quiet yet charismatic man, he took me under his wing and introduced me to Belinda, a rather blasé clerk at one of the markets I’d visited, and Clarissa, a gregarious Canadian expat attending university nearby. We were all around the same age and all felt smothered by our surroundings. It was any wonder I hadn’t found them sooner such was our instantaneous bond. Belinda and Clarissa were like the sisters I never had. We spend numerous hours dredging the murky swamps of our pasts and plotting our futures away from the confines of the countryside.

Neil dealt in the present. Not a day lapsed without him inquiring of me—brotherly not flirtatiously. From the pictures I’d seem of him on the groups’ site, he was tall, shaggy blonde hair, deep set brown eyes; benignly handsome rather than striking. He was one of those mysterious types who seemed to do everything and nothing. Belinda said he knew lots of secrets but he never disclosed what he knew.

Neil wasn’t a standout, indeed were it not for his deafening silence one might overlook him altogether, yet he seemed to spin a web around everyone he met. None more so than me. He was a good listener not judgmental, genuinely interested and caring. Before long I found myself divulging unspoken secrets of sexual desires to a man I hadn’t met as if he held the missing link to bring them to fruition. Maybe, in a way, he did. If not confident, I grew comfortable with my urges; they no longer spawned swells of guilt and trepidation.

I was ready to play real-time.

I worked up the nerve to ask Mr. Satran for an evening off. We were never allowed to go directly to Mr. Dermot—all requests were filtered through Mr. Satran. To my surprise Mr. Dermot called me into his study for further explanation of my absence.

From the foyer window, I watched the storm clouds gather. Soon lightning flashed against the charcoal sky, thunder could be heard in the distance, and the air grew clammy. It was nearly eight o’clock at night and the weather worsened. A loud boom of thunder cracked overhead, and the lightning was felt rather than seen. I quickly tightened the catches on the window before being summoned into the study. I stood there like a child asking to go outside to play while Mr. Dermot sat behind his desk without bothering to look up from his work. I told him I as meeting friends at a local bar but offered no more information. Why should I?

“Who are these friends?” he all but spat under his breath. “How do you know them?”

“I met them a few weeks ago after….” I stopped. There was no point in reliving that night. I stilled myself and made my voice as cold as his behavior. “As my evening off are so scarce and I’m not allowed visitors, I met them online. We’ve been chatting every night, we talk often and I feel perfectly comfortable with them.”

“Them who?”

“Belinda, Clarissa, and Neil.”

“A man?” His hard eyes flew to me. “You’re going to meet a man you met online?”

“I’m going to meet a group of friends which, by law, is my right!”

“Don’t throw the law in my face!” He stood, slamming his palms on his desk.

“I need to get out of here! I’m suffocating!”

“Go to bed, Serena.” His tone had a very final ring, dismissive, cold, and I stared at him with an empty feeling growing inside.

“No.”

“You will do as you’re told!”

“You can’t keep me here!”

Something akin to anger sliced across his face. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

“No, I just…I…I want…more.” If he heard the misery in my voice he chose to ignore it; his own temper was now back under control. “I’ve been employed here for years and I’ve never asked for an evening off. You didn’t even know my name until a few weeks ago. And now you so repulsed by me….” His vacant look was a clear sign my words fell on deaf ears. I shook my head and turned to leave. I stopped when he called my name but I didn’t turn around.

“If you walk out that door, you can pack your shit and leave.” His voice void of any emotion. Defiantly I spun towards him.

“I’ve never complained about the loneliness your strict rules cause. Sometimes I want to run screaming from this big empty house but I don’t. I want a friend, someone to talk to.” My hands fell to my side, defeated.

“Go to bed.” He said unsympathetically. I shook my head and stared at him in awe as he came towards me, nostrils flared. His intensity overwhelmed me. “You will go to bed.” he rasped impatiently down at me.

“I won’t.” The thought that, for once, I had the upper hand with this powerful and unpredictable man brought a secret smile to my face. “Fire me if you will, but I will not be sent to bed on yours or anyone’s command.”

He looked at me steadily, his lips turned up at one corner giving me the impression that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I looked away quickly from his smug grin. I’d never studied a man before and it seemed to be just asking for trouble. I felt his eyes traveling over my skin, etching it pore by pore. I raised my chin and looked at him steadily, and I was suddenly at the receiving end of an unexpected grin. I said shakily, “If that will be all, now I’ll go to bed.”

His eyes softened and his closeness literally took my breath away as his lips neared mine. He stopped short.

“Goodnight, Serena.” He said, cutting the threads of tension between us. I almost collapsed. He turned away and gave another of his ‘over the shoulder’ remarks. “I want you down here tomorrow night after you’ve dressed for bed.”


I did just that. After the house had fallen quiet and Mr. Satran retired to his room, I drew a throw blanket over wispy white gown and crept downstairs in stocking feet. I took a deep breath, knocked, and entered. Mr. Dermot stood in the center of the darkened room lit only by firelight, with the television remote in one hand, the other in his pocket. He was the very embodiment of masculinity. His eyes met mine in an expressionless stare before sweeping over my length, dismissing my frumpy gown by quickly returning to my face. Words can’t begin to describe the rush of feelings I experienced at that moment, so I’m not going to even attempt to find any.

“Come here. Sit.” He spoke softly.

I came into the room slowly, he appraised my every step. I sat tentatively on the plush calfskin sofa. He gave me the remote and his fingers brushed mine.

“I would like to you watch this short film.” He gave me the remote and his fingers brushed mine. “It will help you better understand what you were walking into. Then,” he said almost seductively. “...then I’ll be back.” he turned to the door.

“You’re leaving me?”

“Yes.” he flung over his shoulder and closed the door behind him.

I pointed the remote towards the large wall mounted television and clicked play. A grainy image emerged of a car driving into a dark woodsy area, to a clearing. A young woman and two men stepped from the car and a narrator began to speak.

“As we arrived at our very special place, I could not help but think of the many times we had been there before. Everything was always the same. There were two large oak trees about eight feet apart. The ropes we used to secure me in an upright spread eagle position were still attached to them. The excitement and fear started to rise and my throbbing burning bottom reminded me of what was to come.”

I curled my feet up on the sofa and wrapped the blanket about me.

“I was ordered to strip and stand between the trees. The men placed leather shackles on my wrist and ankles. There were clamps attached to the ends of the ropes. I trembled as each was fastened to each ring on the shackles and there I stood, completely naked and vulnerable. They walked around me, caressing and teasing me gently and then stood directly behind me. It was about to begin.”

As the narrator described the multi colored bruises and welts they inflicted, fear rather than arousal swept over me. But I kept my eyes glued—surely there was a lessoned to be learned.

“Fucking whore!” the narrator continued. “With those words one of the men brought out a cane and slashed it through the air. It made a whistling sound as it cut. More slashes through the air and I shuddered with fear. The first strike landed across both cheeks, right in the middle of the meatiest spot—then another and another preceded by the ghastly whistle of the cane cutting the air. It was like a razor slicing deep into my bottom. I went limp then more came—one after another. Then he stopped, lifted my face to his, smiled at my acceptance, and delivered another whack. These seemed worse than the others.”

I jumped as the young woman strained against her bonds to no avail. I wanted no part of this. I wasn’t the least bit turned on.