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There the relationship began. They'd met on-line
and chatted for weeks, at times bouncing dozens of emails a
day back and forth. As they talked, the two discovered mutual
friends and so much in common. Lindsey had been around the scene
for a year, not a regular player but hardly a newbie. Karl wasn't
new either, though Lindsey was his first real-life partner.
Long before he could tell her how much he cared he couldn't
imagine ever being with anyone else. Her voice over the phone
made his breath catch.
When the two finally met it was electric -
their voices more shattering in the small cafe then their words
were on-line or across the phone wires. When Lindsey looked
back now she could remember shivering as his hand skimmed her
skin. The scenes too came naturally, and felt more serious than
Lindsey had ever felt with anyone before. She lifted her bottom
to meet his hand, yearning for burning physical pain.
But Karl worried about hurting her. She comforted
him as he nearly wept in self-loathing at the sight of bruises
marking her legs and bottom. Lindsey embraced Karl and urged
him to trace his fingers over the hot, reddened and discolored
"I like wearing your marks," she
told him, looking into his eyes, her face open to his. "It
makes me feel like I belong to someone. To you." A feeling
like feathers stirred next to her heart.
"And you want that? To belong to me?"
he asked, fingers barely touching her skin, making her tremble.
His voice was hardly a whisper.
Her eyes filled with tears. Always, Lindsey
had wanted that as long as she could remember. The desire felt
so great she could only nod her answer and marvel at the brightness
of his stare, the glow of his eyes. He desired her, wanted her.
He raised his hand and brought it down hard
on her lower thigh, leaving a mark the shape of his palm. She
shuddered, trying not to cry out from the sting. He bent and
gently kissed the edges of the mark, before raising his hand
and striking the same spot again.
"I've marked you. Now you belong to me."
Lindsey marvelled at the yearning in his voice.
"Yes," she replied, "I'm yours."
He kissed the marks again before striking
her other thigh. Lindsey moaned softly. Karl was such a very
gentle man, after all.
Bit by bit it became clear to Karl how much
Lindsey needed him. And how much he needed her to need him.
There were so many things he could make cleaner, neater, easier.
Later, Lindsey decided they'd been living
together a month when the situation changed. Karl's moving in
amazed them both only by being so natural, so simple. Karl's
orderly space was gradually consuming her chaos. Clutter seemed
to vanish daily, replaced with clear, clean, empty surfaces.
And she was glad, mostly. They fit together well with little
irritation and enjoyed each other's company while respecting
"Such a bad girl," he scolded. "You
were supposed to finish writing that today! What have you been
doing all afternoon anyway?"
Lindsey's work was still her own. Everyone
knew that real life issues and D/s don't mix.
As ever, Lindsey was rushed, trying to finish
her project at the very last minute. And then past the last
minute. She'd spent too long chatting on-line and lost track
of time - hardly unusual. Now Karl was home and they couldn't
spend time together after all because she had deadlines.
"Umm, yeah, I guess. But I'll get it
done tomorrow, Karl."
"Tomorrow and tomorrow? That's always
the story with you. I think you'll wake up to find someone's
taken you in hand, little one."
Lindsey hadn't been listening really. Only
giving his words half her mind as the rest of her brain tried
to organize her notes, tried to calculate down to the last second
how much time this really needed. But those words stopped her
cold. What did he mean really? Karl had all her attention now
- and had said nothing - just held her gaze until she looked
away. Were they at a threshold?
Had Karl smiled? Had she? Lindsey couldn't
remember now. Still there it was. She must have acquiesced because
he had seen it. And everything had changed.
She knew they hadn't talked about real life
work - about discipline and punishment. Like so much of their
relationship, it just happened. But Lindsey felt pleased they
weren't playing anymore and hummed a little to herself as she
typed still more frantically, the heat from the hairbrush burning
through the seat of her desk chair.
The next morning there was a timetable with
lists of what she was to do while he was at work. Her day broken
into hour blocks with even her walk scheduled. Apparently Karl
noticed everything, even her activities while she was out. Lindsey
looked up at Karl shyly.
"I'm - I'm sorry you need to do this
for me," she whispered.
"Don't be sorry. I want to, Baby. You
belong to me and what you do affects me. I like knowing where
you are and what you're doing."
Lindsey felt a warm rush at his words, confident
that this was the right thing for them, whatever others might
think. She confessed her on-line chatting, the hours she'd wasted
not able to work but not able to enjoy herself either. He'd
held her while she cried, telling her she didn't need to be
embarrassed, that he'd take care of it. She wasn't to worry
about it anymore, she was his responsibility now. She was simply
to obey him, do what he said. So simple really. What Lindsey
knew she had always wanted.
The modem went with Karl to work the next
morning. It went with him every morning and was home only when
Karl was. Lindsey went on-line now only when he was there and
could monitor her. No more cyber friends. No more cyber flirting.
E-time spins pretty fast and her friends stopped writing her
once her replies slowed. Until finally there seemed little reason
to even check her e-mail more than once a week anyway.
Early on, the restrictions were hard to take.
Lindsey felt a loss, even resentment. Mostly though, she felt
glad he cared so much about her and was willing to take control.
Plus, her writing was coming along so much more quickly now
that she wasn't on-line so much. Who really cares about a few
efriends anyway? Her life was full of Karl now.
Besides, as she told him when he asked, it
saved her from disappointing him.
And Lindsey didn't want to do that. Ever.
Lindsey hurried from the cool spring air into
the warm house, noting the approaching dusk and wondering where
the time had gone. He was there, home early, and waiting for
her His belt was already off and wrapped around his right hand.
Karl grabbed her right arm tightly. Cruelly.
Lindsey was sure she'd see his fingerprints there for days.
"What are you doing still out? It's almost
six. Your walk was scheduled to end three hours ago!"
Lindsey had been doing all her work, daily
checking each item off the "To Do List" that he went
over with her each morning. But not on the timetable Karl had
given her. Doing all of them had seemed enough. But now, as
his fingers dug still-more-painfully into her arm, she felt
fear stab a hole in her stomach.
"Hey, alright! I'm sorry! Jeez!
I was done with my work and wanted to meet Jeanne at the park!
I was just out walking - don't have a cow, Karl. Careful, you're
This last as he gave her arm a yank.
"Am I? You wanted to go out. Even though
it's getting dark? Even though you knew what you should
be doing? Without calling or leaving me a note? Is this the
first time you've disobeyed me?"
He spoke low, releasing her arm to yank her
sweat pants and panties to her ankles, his belt still wrapped
around his hand.
"Well? Don't I even deserve an answer
now? Just save those for your friends I guess."
She shook, unable to answer. Standing inside
her front door, pants down, her lover holding her in one hand
and his belt in the other, seemed ridiculous. Scary. Hot.
Had he been worried about her? Maybe this
was her fantasy, being cared for, looked after, desired. Precious
enough to be protected.
Hands on her shoulders, Karl shook her again.
"I haven't seen Jeanne in a long time.
And I - I've been getting everything done," she said, a
bit defensively. "I didn't think you'd mind. And I thought
I'd be home first. That's why I didn't leave a note. I'm sorry.
I'd done everything on the list."
Hearing the whine in her voice, Lindsey stopped
speaking. She was repeating herself anyway. Karl gave her a
"In your time. Not in mine.
But we agreed you'd obey me. I guess I need to make sure
of that, Lindsey Michelle. My Bad Little Baby. You don't think
- just do what you're told."
He pulled her from the front hall into the
living room, catching her when her sweat pants tripped her,
pushing her over the back of the sofa, legs dangling.
"Remember who you belong to. Me. Not
Jeanne. Not even to yourself."
Karl said nothing else as he thrashed her.
Even when the pain got to be too much and she struggled to rise
he said nothing, just held her down and whipped her across her
bottom, up and down her legs. Pain painted a red haze behind
her eyes, broken only by flashes of lightning at each stroke
of the belt. As the whipping went on and Lindsey begged him
to stop, she realized she didn't want this, didn't want him
hitting her. Not this punishment, not now.
She didn't deserve this. No one did.
Lindsey screamed out through her tears.
"Stop! Stop it, Karl! Now goddamn you!!"
His answer was to land a vicious stroke behind
her knees. Where her skin was thin and the stroke would show
for days. Her cries turned to hysterical sobs as he striped
the belt across her legs twelve more times, low and hard.
When it was over, Lindsey shivered as he wrapped
his arms around her and gathered her onto his lap. She'd never
really cried before from his spankings, but now found herself
unable to stop and turned to him for comfort as he quieted her
Maybe the proof she belonged to him was that
she didn't want him to punish her but he did anyway. And she
wanted to belong to him. Lindsey wrapped herself in Karl's arms,
and comforted herself with that thought.
Karl had the locks installed that weekend.
Bright shiny gold Yale locks. They were the sort of deadbolts
that need keys to lock and unlock them, inside and out.
"What if there's a fire while you're
away, Karl? I'll be trapped inside. Maybe you could put one
in a sealed envelope and we could keep it in the desk. In case
of an emergency."
Lindsey looked anxiously at the locks, feeling
like a bird in a cage. Or a fish in a bowl.
This was her third attempt to convince him
to leave her a key. Sweet little girl arguing and pouting, trying
hard to get her way. Lindsey trembled a bit, fearing his reaction
to her continued resistance. But he looked amused and pulled
her onto his lap.
"Sweetheart, you'd only be trapped if
you forget there's a wall full of windows. All you'd need to
do would be open one and go through. The screens would rip easily.
You belong to me - it's important that I keep you safe."
Of course she could go through the windows.
Anytime. So long as she was willing for Karl to see the torn
screens. So long as there was a fire. Lindsey shivered and Karl
gathered her closer to him before continuing.
"But if I leave you a key, you'll find
it too easy to think of emergencies, won't you? And if I didn't
agree it was really one, I'd have to punish you. I don't want
to have to do that again. This is so you don't need to worry
about deciding - another way to protect you even from yourself."
She curled up against his chest, her body
responding shamefully to his hand rubbing her bottom and thighs.
When he squeezed her welts she shuddered. He turned her across
his lap and pulled up her plaid skirt so he could see the marks
"What are these, Lindsey?"
"Your belt marks . . . sir."
"What do they mean, Baby?"
Fingers pinching, squeezing, making her moan
behind her teeth. Shameless.
"That I belong to you."
"You do don't you? Belong to me when
you're a good girl. And belong to me when you're naughty."
Though unspoken, Lindsey felt him asking her
if she wanted this, his hand smooth against her sore flesh.
She thought of telling Karl she didn't - that this was scary.
But then his hand touched between her legs, feeling her wetness
at its source. No lies between them. This was what she'd always
wanted. A man who would own her. Punish her as he saw fit. Not
some fantasy of being swatted only when she'd agreed.
She heard her voice say, unbidden, "Forever.
"Such a shameless, naughty girl. I'll
need to watch over you so closely. Make sure you aren't bad."
"What the hell do you mean, Lindsey?
Open the goddamn door and let me in. I haven't seen you in weeks.
You never call anymore."
Lindsey felt a pang of guilt. She couldn't
call of course - the phones which, like the internet, had proved
too distracting were also locked away, voice mail taking messages
she could only retrieve when Karl was home. Jeanne must have
tried to call, not gotten an answer and then come over.
Lindsey's mind reeled as she tried to take
in that this was Jeanne, not the man from FedEx (who was supposed
to be delivering a letter for Karl and who she was supposed
to ask to leave it on the porch). Too late now to pretend she
Letting Jeanne in just wasn't an option. The
door was locked tight. And Jeanne could hardly be asked to climb
in through the window even if Lindsey were willing to rip down
"Um, I'm sorry, Jeanne, I can't open
"Why the hell not?"
"I - I'm just out of the shower - I'm
not even dressed yet."
Which wasn't true. But Lindsey was wearing
a 'smart' plaid uniform skirt, knee socks and a blazer and sure
didn't want Jeanne to see them. Damn her anyway. None of her
other friends still bothered looking for her. Enough calls had
been returned hurriedly or not at all. But here was Jeanne at
the door and not planning on leaving from the sound of it.
"So I'll talk to ya in the buff! Give
me a thrill, please! I don't give a crap what you're wearing
or if the house is a mess, just let me in so I can get a cup
of coffee for god's sake. Have some mercy."
Lindsey almost laughed; she'd forgotten that
Jeanne couldn't function without coffee. There was a time when
Lindsey would have thought nothing of throwing open the door
totally naked and seeing if Jeanne was shocked. They were those
sorts of friends.
Without a second thought she told the truth.
Maybe Jeanne could understand. And who really cared if she couldn't?
"Actually, Jeanne, I really
can't let you in. The door's locked and I don't have the key."
There was a longish pause and Lindsey's courage
faltered. She couldn't bear for Jeanne to think badly of Karl.
It wasn't fair to him after all.
"You don't have a key to your own house?
How the hell did it get locked then?"
"Um . . . Karl locked it on his way to
work," Lindsey sucked in and lied. "I've lost both
my key and the spare - I don't want him to know."
That was certainly believable. Everyone knew
what a flake Lindsey was with keys. Was with anything, come
to think of it. She looked around the spotless living room and
wished she could let Jeanne in just to show it off.
"So you're locked inside your own house??
Why didn't you call a locksmith?"
"I forgot to pay the phone bill too.
I've been really busy working on the book. I'll call you next
week. Sorry I've been such a -"
"No way. You're not getting away so easily.
Remember, you said you'd let me see some chapters, something
to inspire me? I'll call the locksmith on my cell. They can
make up a new key and Herr Karl will never know."
Lindsey felt annoyance battle with her pleasure
at not having been entirely forgotten. She felt so unworthy,
it was hard to remember that anyone could miss her. Still this
wasn't something she should or could explain - not even to a
friend like Jeanne.
"Damn it, Jeanne, you're sweet to think
of me, but honestly I'm fine. I'll call you tomorrow night and
we'll arrange a time to get together next week, really."
"Look - you might as well give up. I'm
calling the locksmith and I'll put it on my card. You can owe
me if you're short or whatever. But you're getting a key to
that door today. Never argue with a bull dyke, chickie."
Lindsey pressed her forehead against the cool
plaster wall and helplessly listened through the door while
Jeanne called some locksmith and told them she had emergency
lockout. Why the heck did these sorts of problems happen to
her anyway? Didn't anyone respect her enough just to take "no"
for an answer? At least Karl couldn't blame her for this.
Except maybe he'd think she should have told
Jeanne the truth. But of course Jeanne couldn't understand.
Hell, she didn't understand herself. Looking down at her uniform,
staring at the front door of her house which she no longer owned
keys for, Lindsey felt disoriented, almost dizzy.
In the end she'd gone and made coffee, joked
with Jeanne about her uniform - told her that it helped her
be more disciplined about her writing - and gratefully accepted
Jeanne admired Lindsey's progress, taking
three new chapters away to read. Lindsey also noticed her eyes
running admiringly over her uniform, as though she longed to
"Man, you really have found the secret
- this is more than you'd done in the past year. But
ya gotta get out more, girl. You're pale as a ghost. Take care
of that key now."
That key. Lindsey almost gave it to Karl when
he got home. Keeping it was a betrayal. She knew he'd be angry
with her were he to discover it on his own - it would be better
to give it to him now, and try and explain about Jeanne. After
all, she hadn't taken off her uniform. But then he would maybe
punish her and she didn't want to be punished. And what if Jeanne
came by again?
In the end Lindsey decided to keep the key.
Hiding the key became a constant preoccupation
whenever Karl was out. At first, she kept it in an envelope,
mixed in with the papers in her desk. Then Lindsey started worrying
that Karl would decide to help her organize those. And moved
it. Again and again.
The key changed things for Lindsey. She could
have Jeanne in for coffee (still amazed at how easily the eccentricity
of her uniform-wearing was accepted), go out and cruise back
roads in Jeanne's red truck. Her skin lost some of its pallor
as her only walks were no longer at night with Karl or on the
The visits were always late in the morning
and over by early afternoon, far inside the Karl-At-Work safety
zone. Still, each time she unlocked the door for Jeanne, Lindsey
felt a frisson of fear that thrilled her, like a naughty girl
sneaking cookies before dinner. Those sorts of treats are always
Both women's writing improved. And Lindsey
was careful to be extra obedient in everything else. She was
sure Karl could have no idea. Still, at times when he praised
her, told her what a good girl she was, Lindsey felt pangs of
guilt coupled with her feelings of pleasure.
Not enough to make her confess, though. Not
enough to give up Jeanne.
"I'll come by before I leave. On my way
out of town."
"I just can't believe you're really leaving."
Carefully setting the coffee cup down and trying not to let
her hand shake.
"Yeah, well, finally a teaching gig.
Tenure-track even. Who'd have thought?"
"I would have. No, I mean, I always knew
you'd get hired. You're so brilliant, Jeanne. I'm glad, really.
It's just that I'll miss you. Miss you a lot."
Lindsey felt her voice break a little. Heard
Jeanne heard it too and seemed to flush a
"So come with me, Lindsey. You and your
cute little uniforms can sit where I live and you can write
there. I'd love it. My own little schoolgirl femme. I've always
had a thing for the good girls."
Lindsey blushed a little, not having realized
that Jeanne had liked her pleated skirts so. She'd never mentioned
it. But Jeanne couldn't really be serious. Lindsey laughed a
"Yeah, right. For a second there I thought
you meant it."
Jeanne paused and looked at Lindsey sadly.
"And for a second there I thought you
might really come. Think about it, Lindsey. I'll come by on
my way out of town. You can just jump in my truck. Leave a note
for Herr Karl. Or just be gone when he gets home. We'll be our
own Thelma and Louise story, but this time with a happy ending.
"Thanks, but I couldn't do that."
"Whatever, Lindsey. I'll be here a week
from today. And you could you know, walk right out that door
and into my truck. I know what you need better than you think."
Jeanne reached across the table, pinned Lindsey's
wrist to the table and kissed her hard and a little roughly.
Lindsey responded, feeling Jeanne's fingers twine in her hair,
holding her in place.
As the kiss ended, Lindsey thought she heard
Jeanne whisper, "Let me be the one who spanks you, little
But it could have been "loves you".
Lindsey wasn't sure.
The week passed in a blur, Lindsey in a daze
of imagination, feverishly thinking of Jeanne. Imagining herself
over Jeanne's lap, being spanked in uniform, her naughty girl.
Imagining more, being Jeanne's little girl, calling her "Mommy".
She felt a warm surge and wished Jeanne would call, come by,
Could she really talk to Jeanne about it?
Lindsey wondered. Let her know what she wanted, needed? Her
friend was leaving anyway, so yes. If only she'd come by once
Karl had to punish her twice. Once a hard
hairbrush spanking for not paying attention and forgetting something
he'd already reminded her to do. The spanking had left her tearful
and contrite just after, curled in a ball on his lap. The next
day, however, the ache made her sulky, made her go and get the
key and finger it. She put it in her pencil cup, leaving it
in easy reach should Jeanne come by. Hairbrush spankings would
be different from Jeanne, she was sure.
Jeanne didn't come by, though. And Lindsey
felt ignored. When he came home, Lindsey snapped at Karl, pouting
and sulking. He tried not to see it for a while - or at least
so it seemed. Perhaps he didn't believe Lindsey would push him
after all this time. She'd been such a good girl for so long.
And he didn't want to be heavy tonight, wanted to hug and cuddle
her. She could tell - and didn't want him to touch her - made
herself ugly and mean.
Finally, though, she pushed too far. Karl
told her she needed to change her attitude or he'd change it
for her. She'd slammed her desk drawer in answer, telling him
he could "just fuck right off".
She was looking at her pencil cup. Not him.
Her mind was touching the key, imagining Jeanne's arms around
her. Soft, sweet, feminine. Smooth, not scary and hairy.
When she turned, the hurt on his face made
her apologize immediately. The angry expression that replaced
the hurt dried her mouth, took her words away.
"Sorry? Is that all you have to say?
Let's just see how sorry I can make my dirty-mouthed little
He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her into
the bathroom and forcing soap into her mouth. She tried to struggle,
tried to squirm away from the smack of his palm on her skirt,
his hand holding her jaw.
"You just take your punishment, young
lady. You've been asking for it all night and now you're going
to get it. Bad, spoiled little girl."
Lindsey tried to spit the soapy taste from
her mouth as she struggled frantically. Karl held her tight,
pulled her into his study, and used three school ties to secure
her across his always-clear work table. Yanked her skirt up
and panties down past her knees. She was stretched out, her
toes barely brushing the floor.
"No no no, please, Karl. I'm sorry, I
promise, I didn't mean it! I'm just distracted."
When Karl was being gentle, it was too easy
for Lindsey to forget what it was like when he punished her.
When he punished her, Lindsey couldn't imagine him any other
way. Her fingers ached to wrap around the key, her feet longed
to flee. She prayed she would die or go mad before the punishment
"Too distracted to remember who you belong
to. To remember what's important, apparently. So let me show
Lindsey thought it would be his belt and held
her breath waiting for the familiar metallic click,
but instead Karl left her tied there. She felt her muscles ache,
feared he'd leave her there for hours. Until she begged him
for the strap. She started sobbing in fearful little chokes.
But no, there was the sound of his footsteps
When Karl came back, there was a whishing
noise that made her blood freeze. She recognized the sound as
that of their thin rattan cane. Its whippy 32-inch length had
only been used in play for some of their heavier school scenes.
Heavy, but playful school scenes.
"Please," she whispered when he
stepped in front of her, the cane now in her line of sight.
"Please, not that. Don't use it. I'm - I'm afraid of you."
Lindsey felt her stomach clench with anxiety. Was he even practiced
with this thing? She didn't, couldn't know.
"And you should be. What was it you just
told me to do, Lindsey Michelle?"
One stroke of the cane before she could answer.
And a pause. The pain was too brilliant at first, but then as
the blood rushed back the sensation grew. Trying to struggle
away from it, Lindsey realized she couldn't move.
Another stroke, even harder than the first.
"I'm waiting for an answer, Lindsey Michelle."
Karl tapped the cane just above her knees. "This is where
the next stroke's going if I don't get to hear from you."
Lindsey choked out a sob, feeling suddenly
pliant, the familiar desire to please Karl rushing over her.
"justfuckoff," softly, barely a
whisper. Her voice filled with pain and regret.
Another three strokes, hard and fast, across
the base of her bottom, making her scream, making her angry.
Making her swallow her anger.
"Oh, so you do have a voice. Louder please,
I couldn't hear that." His voice was unkind and taunted
Lindsey panted as Karl again tapped the cane
over the welts.
"I said you could just fuck off."
Even through her tears and fear, Lindsey managed to invest it
with a little bit of defiance. But the defiance scared her and
she pushed it down, something not needed or wanted. She felt
herself slide into a more submissive space and embraced it.
Three more hard strokes, where her bottom
and thighs met.
"Exactly right. You did say that. And
now you're sorry, right?"
"Yes," Lindsey gasped, before the
next stroke could land. "I'm very very sorry."
Two more strokes criss-crossed those already
"So you didn't mean it. Didn't mean to
be that disrespectful."
"No, sir. I didn't mean it, really."
Lindsey sobbed now, screaming as the cane connected again.
Karl paused, seeming to think, or maybe just
survey his handiwork. Lindsey tried to slow her breathing and
struggled to find a place to put this sort of pain. She panicked
when she couldn't and began to cry like a lost child, apologizing
and begging Karl to forgive her. If only he would, everything
would be alright. She'd be the perfect girl, perfect partner,
never leave him always love him. If only he'd forgive her and
He touched her face, running his hand along
her cheek, pushing her heavy hair back. Karl's fingertips traced
patterns through her tears.
"No, no, it's my fault really, Baby.
Shush, shush. It's all going to be okay. My fault. I need to
make sure you remember you respect me. Make sure you think before
you say things like that."
He tapped the cane against her welted bottom.
Making her tremble.
"So count these now and thank me for
each one. Because you don't know how high I'm going. And I'm
sure you're not going to want me to have to start over."
Through a red haze, Lindsey counted to eighteen
before she was unable to hear or think of anything outside the
pain. She had no memory of anything outside this moment and
lost any hope that the hurt might ever stop. There was only
the red pain before her eyes and the shrill voice screaming
in her ear. Screaming for mercy. She heard herself as if listening
to the voice of another. Such a pathetic mewling girl.
Lindsey couldn't blame Karl for punishing
her; she loathed herself. Jeanne wouldn't ever come and she
was a careless fool to have even imagined anything outside her
life with Karl. Lindsey was just lucky Karl cared so much. All
she could think about was pleasing him. Being good. She swore
never to think of Jeanne again. It was too disloyal and unfair.
Afterward, he helped her clean herself, wrapped
her in soft towels and held her close, telling her he forgave
her. And, curled up against him, Lindsey wept until her eyes
were dry. Wrapped close in his arms, she slept so deeply she
didn't notice him carrying her to bed.
The following evening Lindsey, dressed as
required in her best school uniform, asked Karl if maybe they
could go to the shore and watch the sunset. He smiled, looking
past her to the small basket dinner she'd already packed, in
"I suppose so, Baby. But we'll need to
leave now. And you'll have to leave your uniform on."
Lindsey smiled brightly, nodding with enthusiasm.
"I want to wear it, really." She straightened her
blazer and tie a bit, brushing off invisible lint.
Karl smiled. She looked so sweet, so good.
The cane marks were invisible, hidden by the kilt, but he knew
they were there, that she felt them whenever she moved. He longed
to run his hands and mouth over them, feel Lindsey shiver with
fear and desire.
The drive to the shore was uneventful - Lindsey
and Karl were together, but both lost in their own thoughts.
He, in a pride of ownership. She, seeming to fathom something
The quiet persisted, bemusing Karl a bit.
Lindsey seemed her sweet loving self, yet was mostly silent,
something that tended to happen only when she was sulking. Usually
she tended toward a stream of happy chatter. He watched as she
drifted away from him and picked up stones to skim along the
water. Every now and then she turned and waved, watching him
Turning away to pack up their basket, Karl
spun back to see Lindsey throw something small, bright and metal
into the water. He dropped the basket and ran to her.
"What did you throw in there?"
"What? Uh - nothing. Rocks, I mean."
She looked up at him, seeming to will him to believe her. "I
was skipping stones, Karl."
"No, just now there was something else.
I saw it, it was gold. You threw something gold into the water."
He watched her closely as she brushed her
hair back and laughed up at him.
"Silly! I wouldn't throw gold away. It
was just a stone."
Karl started to argue, then stopped. He could
make her tell him. Make her tell him anything - do anything.
But maybe this was something he didn't want to know.
"Yeah, right, Baby. Just a stone. The
light must have caught it just right."
Lindsey looked up at him and nodded. Her face,
framed by her loose dark hair, looked golden in the last of
the sunlight. It could have been a stone after all, he told
At 11:30 on Friday morning, Jeanne's red truck
idled in front of Lindsey and Karl's house. Jeanne sat in the
driver's seat and watched the windows. She could see Lindsey
there, her figure ghostly behind the curtains.
Jeanne sat quietly, waiting for Lindsey to
come out and say 'yes' or 'no'. Anything.
Surely she'd at least come out to say goodbye.
Lindsey stood by the window, her packed suitcase
beside her. She could see Jeanne inside the truck, waiting for
her. She could open the window, climb out and run to the truck.
Tell Jeanne all about herself across miles of open highway.
In case of emergency break glass. Lindsey
could just go through the window.
But why didn't Jeanne come to the door? Or
the window. If she did, Lindsey could ask her if - if she really
wanted someone like Lindsey. She needed know if Jeanne really
said she'd spank her. And if she understood what that meant.
Jeanne was still in the truck, though. Lindsey's
hand hovered at the window. What if Jeanne wasn't interested
in her? What if she was disgusted by what Lindsey needed? In
chasing a fantasy about Jeanne, Lindsey would lose Karl and
be left with no-one. Leaving would be insanity.
'After all,' thought Lindsey, 'my life with
Karl is what I've always wanted.'
At noon on Friday, Jeanne's red truck drove
away, watched only by the ghost girl inside the window.
to Mija's stories
to the treehouse