Chapter 3

"Because I made the pictures possible. I'm the one who tied her up. If I hadn't done that, there wouldn't be any pictures."

"That's not fair. You didn't know there was anyone sneaking around with a camera."

"True, but irrelevant. Despite your advanced age, you're still a child and rational. One of these days, you'll develop female logic, then you'll understand. Until then, just take my word for it."

"I don't get it. Is that a slam or is it supposed to be a compliment? Maybe you better not talk to me like an adult."

"The fact that you recognize that speaks to considerable sophistication on your part."

"You're still doing it."

"Sorry."

"So are you and my mom going to get back together?"

"I don't know. That's up to her. What do you think?"

"I'm supposed to answer the phone. If it's you, I'm supposed to say she's not home."

"Doesn't look good, does it."

"Well, if you don't, you could tie me up instead."

"Gretchen, if you ever say anything like that to me again, I'm going to run away from you very fast and you'll never see me again--after I tell your mother. Now apologize."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I'm sure there are boys your own age for you to be interested in."

"They're all dorks."

"We all start out as dorks. Some of us get better, some get worse. Your job is to figure out which is which. Judging from some women, that's not easy to learn."

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry."

Something occurred to me which I should have thought of earlier. "Gretchen, where does your mother think you are?"

"Out."

"When does she expect you back?"

"I don't know."

"So she doesn't know where you are or when you're coming home. She's worried about you, isn't she."

"I guess so."

"Call her right now." I handed her the phone. "Tell her where you are."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do. If you don't, I will."

"Okay."

Gretchen dialed the phone. "Hi, mom. It's me... yes, I am... I'm over at Bob's... Mr. Canfield's... no, no it was my idea... I'm alright... yes... okay... here he is."

"She wants to talk to you." Gretchen handed me the phone.

"Hello, Rachel."

"What is my daughter doing over there?"

"The same thing you were doing the first time you came here. She came to give me a piece of her mind."

"I want her home right now."

"You want me to drive her?"

"No, she can ride her bike."

"Okay... hang on just a minute. Gretchen, the bathroom's in there, through that door and on your right. Go... Now, back to you. Rachel, we need to have a conversation."

"I am not talking to you."

"This isn't about us, it's about Gretchen."

"I'll take care of Gretchen. You stay out of it."

"Rachel, she's seen the pictures."

"What! How could you? I'm calling the police..."

"I didn't show her. She saw yours."

"But how? I hid them."

"When she gets home, I want you to call me. Send her to her room, unplug her extension if she's got one, do whatever you have to do to make sure she doesn't overhear, then call me."

"You did this to me and now you're doing it to her and you expect me to call you?"

"Rachel, I didn't do this. Now snap out of it and act like an adult. You're her mother. Be her mother. As such, you need to have this conversation. It's about Gretchen and you need to hear what I have to say."

"But... okay, I'll call you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good. One other thing, don't ground her or decide what you're going to do about today's escapade until after you've talked to me."

"You still talking to my mom?" Gretchen wanted to know as she returned.

"I'm sending her off now," I told Rachel. "Call me."

"She's gonna call you? Are you getting back together?"

"I don't know. Now, it's time for you to head home before you're in any more trouble."

I saw Gretchen off, then waited for the phone to ring. It took about 45 minutes, but finally it rang.

"Hello, Rachel. Have you talked to Gretchen yet?"

"I could hardly face her, knowing she'd seen those pictures. I sent her to her room."

"Where to start... okay, first thing you need to understand is why she was here. Remember the first day you showed up on my doorstep? She did the same thing. She was demanding to know why I'd sent you those pictures."

"But you didn't send them."

"She knows that now."

"But how did she find them? I hid them."

"Rachel, you can't hide things in your house. Kids always know the place way better than you do. Every nook, cranny, crawlspace, everything. The only thing you can do with stuff like that is lock it up. And use a combination lock. They'll find a key."

"How will I ever face her again after she's seen me like that?"

"That's the other thing we need to talk about. She doesn't hold them against you. She understands."

"How can she understand?"

"Something you need to understand about Gretchen--she's fascinated by those pictures. She feels a bit weird because it's her mother in them, but they turn her on. She told me she likes being tied up."

"Oh, no."

"Wrong reaction. It's okay for you but not for her? She's your daughter. Don't be surprised if she likes some of the same things. If that's what turns her on, then that's what turns her on. You can't change it. All you can do is teach her not to surrender herself to someone who's stupid or evil, and that covers a major chunk of the population. You have to talk to her about that."

"How can I talk to her about that? I feel like such a hypocrite."

"But you're not. In an odd sort of way, she's gained a new respect for you. You can talk to her about that with a credibility you never had before. You know what she said? She said you looked really cool in your gown and collar."

"She said that? I can't believe she said that. How could she think it was cool, seeing me in chains?"

"Rachel, believe me. She asked me to do that to her."

"You didn't!"

"Of course I didn't. The point is that she asked someone to tie her up. Gretchen isn't as shy as you are. She knows what she wants and she's at that hormonal age. She confided that she's already been tied up twice."

"When? What happened?"

"Rachel, calm down." She was verging on hysteria. "Calm down and listen to me. I didn't ask for details. She did say it's only been twice because you have to be careful who you let do it. She's smart."

"I can't let her do that. She deserves better."

"Tell her that and you will be a hypocrite. She's seen the pictures."

"But I don't want that for her."

"That's her decision, not yours, and it's already been made. Think about your own case. How old were you when you realized you were turned on by the idea of being tied up?"

"As far back as I can remember, but it seemed shameful to want that. I was always so embarrassed by it."

"I've noticed. It's one of your sexier qualities."

"Let's keep the subject on Gretchen."

"Right. Okay... there are four points I wanted to get across. First, Gretchen is very protective of you. She came over here on her own to chew me out for making you cry. She thought I had sent those pictures.

"Second, as a result of seeing those pictures, your daughter has revealed her own sexual preferences. You're better off knowing that than not knowing.

"Third, now that you know that, you need to discuss it with her. She's too young to be engaging in sexual activities, but since she's already been tied up a couple of times, she's obviously been involved in some level of horse play. You'll be better off and better informed about her activities if you discuss it with her rather than censure her. It will be harder for you than for her. It doesn't embarrass her the way it does you.

"Lastly, she knows it was Gayle that sent the pictures..."

"You told her?"

"No, she figured it out on her own. I told you she was smart. You need to talk to her about that as well. You can't have her seeking revenge on her own. She might do something that would provide Gayle with some major ammunition. Make sure she understands that, but don't cut her out of the loop. If she doesn't feel like she's involved, she might decide to act independently. And that's all I have to say."

"I need to think about this. It's a lot to take in all at once."

"It's really all the same thing, but it's a big lump just the same. One more thing, call John in the morning and tell him about the pictures."

"Oh, god, I can't tell him about that."

"He already knows. I told him the minute I got my set."

"She sent them to you, too?"

"Yes, but I didn't know at the time you'd gotten a set. He needs to know that. Call him. I know it won't be easy, but you have to do it. He's not judgmental and he can help. If you love Gretchen, you'll put aside your embarrassment and call him."

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Good. And call me if I can help. If that's a problem, call me as Gretchen's mother, rather than as Rachel. Understand?"

"I understand."

"Speaking of Gretchen's mother, you'd better go have that conversation with Gretchen."

I got another beer and went to sit on the front porch, hoping my head would stop spinning. At least now I was pretty sure things couldn't get any worse, although I wouldn't have backed that opinion up with money. In some ways I felt like things were better. I was glad for the conversation with Rachel and was hopeful about patching things up. I was also glad to have spent part of the afternoon with Gretchen. She was quite a young woman in her own rite and I hoped she would be successful in her quest for a non-dork. She was going to be quite a handful. He would probably want to keep her tied up for a number of reasons.

I dragged my mind away from the subject of Rachel and Gretchen and returned to the problem at hand. Gayle had made her move. Unfortunately, I had no counter move. Perhaps I should wait for her to make yet another move, but I didn't like that idea. What would her next move be? The only way to find that out would be the hard way.

The next day, for lack of alternate ideas, I decided to pay Jacqui another visit. Maybe I could get her to say something useful. I sat at the same table I'd occupied the last two times. Jacqui's eyes widened when she saw me. She did an about face and had a hurried conversation with one of the other waitresses. The other waitress came over and handed me a menu.

"I thought this was Jacqui's table."

"Today it's my table," she informed me.

"Could I be seated in Jacqui's section?"

"Her section is full."

The place wasn't even half full. I ordered a light lunch and tried to watch Jacqui without staring too rudely. She still wore her collar and she moved oddly, as if it hurt. She had a party at a table near me, but when she was at that table she would always manage to keep her back to me. I tried twice to make eye contact, but each time she looked away. She was frightened. I finished my meal and left.

When I got home, I gave John a call.

"John, have you heard from Rachel?"

"Yes, she called me. She told me she got the pictures."

"So what can we do about it?"

"Not a lot. I told Rachel I could probably stir up some sort of legal ruckus, but it would involve making the pictures public. You can imagine what Rachel said to that."

"Yes, I can. So that leaves us no options?"

"It leaves me no options."

"I see. Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime."

My final comment to John was genuine, not sarcastic. I had known John long enough to understand when he was trying to tell me something he would be ill advised to put into words. He had said that he had no options. He did not say that I had no options. I was going to have to deal with Gayle on her own level.

I got a beer and sat on the front porch, letting my mind pick around the edges of the problem. I had an idea, but I didn't really like it. I was letting my mind wander, hoping something else would come to me.

I finished the beer and went back in for another. This was bigger than a one beer problem. As I headed back outside, the phone rang. It was Rachel.

"Bob, I need to talk to you."

"And who am I talking to? Is it Rachel or Gretchen's mother."

"It's Rachel, although Grethen's mother may have a few comments, too."

"I'll enjoy talking to both of you. Did you have your talk with Gretchen?"

"Yes. We both learned something. She really likes you. That counts for a lot with me."

"Hence the call from her mother?"

"Not entirely. Rachel has her own feelings."

"I see. And what is Rachel feeling?"

"Rachel would like to see you again."

"That would be nice. How about Friday?"

"Friday's fine. Gretchen has an overnight at a friend's house."

"Good. So do you."

The conversation with Rachel left me feeling almost light headed. I tried to return to the problem of dealing with Gayle, but it was no good. My mind kept going back to Rachel. It didn't matter anyway. My mind was made up. I would indeed deal with Gayle on her own level.

Friday I picked Rachel up at her house and took her to dinner. We discussed her conversation with Gretchen.

"I know it's hypocritical, but I don't want that for her. For that matter, I don't want it for me, but I can't help what turns me on."

"Neither can she."

"I know, but I'm afraid for her. She could get hurt."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. It's not all that easy for a young woman to get someone to tie her up."

"I hope you're right."

"I am. When was the last time anyone did that to you?"

"Never, but I never asked, either."

"Why not?"

"I was ashamed of what I wanted. It was just too embarrassing to ask for that."

"Tonight that's going to change."

"How? I didn't have to ask you."

"We still have the contents of your last envelope to deal with. When we get to my house, you're going to ask to be punished and you're going to tell me what punishment you wish me to inflict."

"Bob, no. Please... I just can't."

"You can. If I'm going to give you what you want, you're going to have to ask me for it."

"Please, Bob. Don't make me do this."

"You're having no problem begging at the moment. I suggest you save it for when it might do some good."

Rachel looked down at her plate and didn't speak. I pushed my fork off onto the floor and bent to pick it up. I used the opportunity to wrap my hand around Rachel's ankle. I slipped her shoe off and pulled her leg out straight, resting her foot in my lap. My hand remained tightly wrapped around her ankle. I ran the tines of my fork gently over the sole of her foot. Rachel stifled a screech and jerked her foot, but her ankle remained tightly imprisoned in my grasp.

"Rachel, look at me."

She looked up, but didn't meet my eyes. I ran the fork over the sole of her foot again, causing her leg to jump.

"Rachel, I said look at me." Her eyes locked onto mine. "You're going to do as I require. You will do as you're told." I tapped her foot with the fork to emphasize my point. She nodded.

"That's not good enough, Rachel. I want you to tell me that you will do as you're told."

"I'll do what you tell me."

"Failure to comply. You were instructed to say you would do as you are told."

"I will do as I am told."

"Thank you." I signaled the waiter for the check, paid, and led Rachel outside.

"Rachel, before we get in the car, you have a decision to make. This is the only decision you are allowed this evening."

"Let me guess."

"You don't need to. You can choose to go home with me. If you do, I will require your exact obedience and punish you when you fall short. If you go with me, you will not be allowed to leave. If you prefer, you can choose to go to your house and you will suffer none of these things, but you will spend your night alone. This is your only opportunity to make that choice. If you go with me, you will stay until I allow you to leave. Choose."

"Take me with you."

"Done."

It was a quiet ride to my house. I was much relieved that my gamble had paid off. I had hoped that Rachel would come to a greater acceptance of herself through her conversation with Gretchen. For my part, I had come to the realization that I required a level of submission from Rachel that I had never before required of anyone. This had partly to do with changes that had occurred within me since Meg's death, but also had to do with my perception of the basic nature of Rachel. Something within her cried out to be possessed.

Rachel was almost too quiet.

"Having second thoughts?"

"Maybe."

"It's too late for that."

When we arrived at the house, Rachel stood quietly in the entry hall as I locked her in her collar. I stripped her down to her underwear and secured her wrists behind her. After leashing her, I led her upstairs to a full length mirror.

"What are you going to do?" she wanted to know.

"You're going to tell me what I'm going to do, but not yet. Open your mouth." I gagged Rachel and turned her to face the mirror.

"Rachel, I want you to watch the woman in the mirror. What can she be thinking? Is she frightened, do you think? Perhaps she's aroused." Rachel shivered as I ran my hands lightly down the back of her neck and along her shoulders. "See how she reacts when she's caressed? How is it that she came to be standing here before you, hands bound behind her, in her gag and her collar? Why did she surrender herself to this? What's to become of her? You will decide. She has failed to do as she was told and now she stands there awaiting your judgment. When I return, I will remove your gag and you will tell me what her punishment will be."

I walked away and left Rachel before the mirror. When I returned about 15 minutes later, she was standing as I had left her, still watching the woman in the mirror.

"Have you decided?" I asked.

Rachel nodded slowly. I removed her gag.

"Well, what's to be her penalty?"

"She needs to be spanked," Rachel said in a quiet detached sounding voice.

I led Rachel to the basement.

"Where are we going," Rachel wanted to know. She had never been to the basement and didn't know about my special room.

"You'll see when we get there." I led her down the hall and into a room at the far corner of the basement. The principal feature of the room was a pair of floor to ceiling posts, spaced about three feet apart. Stretched between the posts, about three feet off the floor, was a pair of wide boards, one above the other, each with three semicircular cutouts, one large flanked by a smaller one on each side.

"What's that for?"

"That's where she will receive her spanking," I told Rachel as I removed her bra. "It's time. She should place her neck in the stocks."

Rachel slowly walked over and placed her neck in the pillory. I took her hands and placed each wrist in the appropriate notch then closed the stocks on her neck and wrists, locking it in place. Rachel wiggled her hands about experimentally, but her wrists were firmly held.

I squatted in front of Rachel, placing my hand under her chin and tilting her head back so I could look into her eyes.

"It's time now, Rachel, but she has to ask me. That's your job, to beg me to spank her. Then it will be my job to make her beg me to stop. Now, do as I require."

"Please, spank her. She needs to be spanked."

"I know she does," I said gently. "Tell her she can scream if she needs to. She won't disturb anyone."

I stepped behind Rachel, got her panties off, and bound her ankles tightly. I had brought a rattan cane to the basement. It was one of a pair I had purchased for use on Rebecca. I had never used it on anyone I was serious about so I was a bit dubious about using it on Rachel. The only other person who had felt it had been Dr. Ann, who, like Rebecca, had screamed herself nearly unconscious during her encounter with it.

The first blow resulted in a sharp intake of breath from Rachel. She was silent for the second, but the third produced a loud shriek. By the fifth the tears were flowing and she began to beg. She begged continuously through the next three and by the tenth all she could say between sobs was "Please... please... please."

I squatted in front of Rachel again and wiped her tears with a white handkerchief. "Tell me, Rachel, has she learned her lesson?"

"Yes."

"And what is it that she's learned?"

"She has learned to do as she's told."

"I'm glad to hear it. Tell her she must ask me to continue."

"Oh, please, no. It hurts too much. She can't stand it. Please, don't hurt her."

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but she has not learned to do as she's told and you have lied to me. She will not be released from here until she has learned and when we go upstairs you will choose an envelope."

I gave Rachel five more strokes, which brought renewed tears and desperate shrieking. I returned to the conversation.

"Tell me again, Rachel, has she learned her lesson?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, I'm sure."

"You know what I require. She must ask me to continue."

"Please continue her spanking."

"No, Rachel, she must speak for herself. She must tell me she will do as she's told. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand. I will do as I'm told."

"Good. Now you must ask me to continue."

"Please, continue my spanking." She began sobbing quietly. I stepped behind her and gave her another three strokes.

I released Rachel from her stocks and held her. "Thank you, Rachel, you did as you were told."

When she stopped crying, I locked her wrists behind her and led her up to the bedroom. It was too soon to choose her envelope--there were more important things to attend to. I bent her over the footboard of the bed and plunged into her. Rachel moaned and thrashed. When she had subsided, I took her to bed. I noticed she chosen to sleep lying face down.

In the morning we got up and showered, then I made Rachel choose an envelope.

"Do I have to?" she asked.

"If you intend to do as you're told."

Rachel selected and envelope and opened it. She extracted the card, read it, then handed it to me.

SPANKING WARRANT

Upon presentation, you will surrender yourself

to the bearer to be securely bound and soundly spanked.

"Does that mean what I think it does?" Rachel wanted to know.

"Yes, it does," I said, pocketing the card.

We ate breakfast, then I took Rachel home so she would be there in time to fix lunch for Gretchen when she arrived.

On the way home, I did some shopping. I spent the rest of the day preparing for the evening's activities.

Once it was dark, I drove over to Gayle's house. I had located it shortly after I had caught her spying on Rachel by simply looking in the phone book. There was a listing for a G. Robbins. I had driven to the address listed and seen the red Dodge was parked in the driveway.

On this occasion, I parked over a block away, then walked to Gayle's. Besides the red Dodge, there was another car in the driveway. I assumed it was Jacqui's. I couldn't tell much by looking at the house. The shades were pulled on the front windows and the front door had no window. There was an alley behind the house. I walked to the end of the block and back up the alley. The back of the house was dark. I entered the yard and walked around the outside, checking the windows. All had shades or curtains drawn and were opaque. I did hear music faintly through the windows at the front of the house. I returned to the rear.