Mothers and Daughters Pt. 07

Martha thought for a moment. Clearly that condition created a wrinkle she hadn't considered. "Deal," she finally nodded.

"Go stand over there for inspection," Nate pointed to the center of the floor. Martha put her wine glass down, stood up, and padded naked to the center of the room. She put her hands behind her head, spread her feet wide, and waited. Nate picked up her purse from the coffee table and opened it. Inside he found her wallet, keys, passport, and cell phone, along with many other things. "I am keeping this in my safe," he said, lifting up the purse, "until I release you." He told her to stay still, and went to his office and locked her purse in his safe.

Nate came back and picked up Martha's carry-on suitcase and placed it on the coffee table, and unzipped it. Martha stood naked, with her hands behind her head, and watched him go through everything – clothing, toiletries, and pictures of Briana. There were socks in the suitcase. Nate realized Martha planned well ahead, removing her socks before meeting Nate. He found a zipped compartment full of American money. He counted it out loud in front of Martha – three hundred and fifty dollars. "You'll get this back when you get your purse," he waved the bills in his hand, and went back to his office to lock the money in his safe.

"So I am at your mercy," Martha observed when Nate returned.

"That's what doing anything I want means," Nate agreed. He walked directly to Martha, who was still standing naked with her hands behind her head and her feet wide apart. "Kiss me with an open mouth," he ordered, and they kissed for a long time. Nate fondled Martha's tits – they were spectacularly firm. He slipped his hand down her tummy, still locked in a kiss, and Nate slipped his middle finger between her legs into her clean shaven pussy. Obediently, Martha continued kissing Nate as he plunged his middle finger into her fuck hole and started pumping in and out lightly.

Nate pulled his finger out of Martha, and broke off his kiss. He touched his pussy smeared finger to her lips. "Suck it clean," he ordered, and without hesitation Martha took his finger into her mouth and sucked on it earnestly. "Get dressed," he ordered after pulling his finger out. "We're going out for supper."

Martha reached for her clothing while Nate retrieved his phone from the table. He turned off the voice recorder, and speed dialed Thomas Brandt. It was no surprise the call went to voicemail – it was past six on a Friday evening. Nate left a message for Thomas in English, allowing Martha to listen. Nate explained he had changed his mind – he will post the bond after all, and asked Thomas to prepare the paperwork to make that happen on Monday.

"Why wait for Monday?" Martha asked after Nate hung up.

"Because I don't have that kind of money in my bank account," Nate snapped back. "I need to liquidate some assets, and all the banks are closed until Monday," he explained.

"But I have to do everything starting now," Martha quipped.

"That's the deal," he shot back at her. "You in or out?"

"Oh, I'm in," she sighed. "I was just observing the unfairness of a power relationship," she mused as she buttoned up her blouse.

Nate ignored her protest. "So here are the rules," Nate explained. "You are my special girlfriend. That means, you laugh at my stupid jokes, you smile at me lovingly, you hold my hand when I want. Basically, you act as if you adore me."

"No ego issues there," she retorted sardonically.

Nate walked to her and slapped her hard across the face. Martha reeled in shock, and put her hand to her reddened cheek. "What did I just say?" Nate demanded. "That is not a rhetorical question. What did I just say?"

"I laugh at your stupid jokes, smile at you lovingly, hold your hand, and adore you," she recited, stifling a cry.

"And was that comment about ego issues one of those?"

"No," she looked down sullenly.

"Get down on your knees and apologize," he commanded. She kneeled down before him. "Look me in the eyes," Nate ordered, "and tell me what you did wrong, and how you will make sure you never do it again, then apologize."

"I am sorry," she looked at him. "I spoke to you in a non-adoring way. I will make sure I always think before I speak so I do not do that again. I am very sorry."

"Stand up," he ordered, and she stood. "Go to the end of the couch," he pointed. She walked to the side of the sofa, where he pointed, and faced the arm rest. "Hike your skirt all the way up so I can see your bare ass," he ordered. She pulled the hem of the skirt up, folding the fabric over itself, until the hem was well above her waist, and her ass cheeks hung out in the open air. "Now, spread your legs very wide, and bend over that sofa arm." She did as he commanded, and in a moment, she was bent of the end of the sofa with her legs wide apart. "Now you will take your punishment," he observed dryly. "Count out loud each time I spank you, and do not shout or cry."

He took position behind her bare ass. Her rosebud was exposed, as was her pussy. Nate smacked the palm of his hand hard against her left ass cheek. Martha grunted, and then hoarsely said "One."

"Louder, so I can hear you," he corrected.

"One," she repeated more forcefully.

He smacked the same spot hard. "Two!" she belted out, this time with tears of pain in her eyes.

"Three, four, five, six," she called out each time he spanked her left cheek. The next six strikes hit her right ass cheek, and she counted to twelve. Then three on the inside left thigh. Nate knew those hurt badly, but she counted to fifteen. Three more on the inside right thigh – eighteen. Nate centered his hand dead center over her pussy, and delivered two final blows – not nearly as hard as the earlier ones. Martha shrieked, more with surprise than pain, but she managed to count to twenty.

"Stand up," Nate ordered, "and fix your skirt." She stood and pressed the skirt back into its position. She rubbed her ass where Nate had spanked her. "Now thank me for correcting your wicked ways."

"Thank you," she whispered meekly, "for ..."

"No!," Nate snapped, and grabbed Martha's chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Thank me like you really mean it."

Martha closed her eyes for a moment to recompose her energy. "Thank you," she opened her eyes and spoke in a soft, determined voice. "Thank you very much for correcting my wicked ways."

Nate reached to her blouse, and undid the top two buttons, leaving a deep cleavage that plunged to the bottom of her breasts. No doubt a side-peek from the right angle would give a happy onlooker a pleasant view. "You will go out to dinner like that tonight," he explained, "to remind you of this lesson." He paused. "You are supposed to thank me again."

"Thank you," she said more loudly this time, "for correcting my wicked ways."

"So," Nate recapped, "how are you supposed to treat me?"

"I will smile, laugh at your jokes, and adore you," she recited again.

"Okay, then," he said. "I noticed a jacket in your suitcase. You will probably want it."

"Thank you," she offered, and retrieved an off-white zip-up jacket. Nate forbade her from zipping it up higher than the deep cleavage of her shirt.

"Smile and lets go." Martha forced an unconvincing smile and followed Nate to the door.

They walked hand-in-hand down the street to a seafood restaurant Nate frequented, and took the last vacant table on the sidewalk. As Martha sat down, she leaned forward, and her unbuttoned blouse gently fell away. Nate watched the young man at the next table enjoy a sideways peek into her open shirt. Martha was either oblivious, or no longer cared.

Being in the Portuguese quarter, Nate ordered Vinho Verde, a lightly sparkling wine. Martha was clearly fatigued, suffering from the jet lag. Nate explained the best way to manage jet lag is to stay awake until it is time to sleep. Napping throughout the day only prolongs the adjustment. "Short term pain for long term gain," he recounted the platitude.

"Story of my life," Martha reflected ruefully. "I'm still waiting for the gain."

"So why have you come over here to rescue your daughter," he asked after the waiter poured out the first glasses of wine. "Briana told me you weren't talking."

"That's true," Martha nodded wistfully. "I made some bad mistakes when I was young. I see Briana going down the same path. Maybe ..." Martha stared into the open street without finishing her thought.

"Some would argue you are enabling bad behaviour – perpetuating a cycle," Nate observed dispassionately, as if he was discussing theoretical social theory.

"I know," Martha nodded. "I've tried tough love, but then I feel so guilty and alone."

"Does Briana know what you are doing ... with me?" Nate asked.

"We spoke for a long time this morning," Martha nodded. "She told me everything about you – about her and you, about you and Pavollina." Nate didn't bother correcting Martha's mispronunciation of Pavlina's name. "As I listened to her I first became angry at you, for exploiting her, but eventually I became more angry with her – for letting herself get into this problem in the first place. That whole nonsense with the London School ..." Martha rolled her eyes, recalling a great deal more than Nate could know. "It was a fiasco from the beginning. I was so ... so ... not surprised when she abandoned her year there," she recounted with bitterness. "I refused to clean up that mess. That was her doing, and she would have to face the consequences." Martha dabbed her eyes with her napkin, although Nate observed no tears.

"Who would have thought that would come back and haunt her, and put her in jail in Germany?"

"Briana does seem reluctant to take responsibility for her own actions," Nate observed gently.

"Tell me about it," Martha snorted. "I mean really, what the fuck am I doing here?" Nate thought about correcting Martha – smile, laugh, adore – but decided against it. Nate opened this can of worms, and letting Martha vent could work in Nate's favor.

The waiter returned to take their food order, but neither had looked at the menu. Martha asked Nate to order for her – she was too exhausted and distraught to decide. Nate ordered a garlic shrimp appetizer to share, an angel hair pasta for Martha with a scallop cream sauce (he checked Martha for food allergies first), and a pan fried spiced snapper for himself on a bed of caramelized onion rice.

"You didn't answer my question," Nate said evenly.

Martha paused for a moment in recollecting thought. "Does she know?" Martha composed her words carefully. "She suspected I was planning something," was all Martha offered.

"And ..." Nate prompted.

"And she is very upset," Martha reported.

"And that was part of the plan – to make her upset?"

"No," Martha considered for a moment, "but it has a useful side effect."

"Shame her into taking responsibility for her actions."

"Well, if she thinks she's ashamed ..." Martha didn't finish her sentence. She realized Nate was giving her a lot of leeway from her smile, laugh, adore mantra, but finishing that sentence would likely cross a line she would regret.

Nate sensed Martha's inner restraint, and decided to cut things off. "Okay," he said, "enough of that. I know I started this conversation, and you have been emotionally honest with me, and I appreciate that. But starting now, I want you to smile, laugh, and adore me."

Martha smiled with sparkling eyes. "Of course, my dear," she cooed convincingly.

"Come sit next to me," Nate gestured to the vacant chair to his right. It was a square table, and they had originally sat across from each other.

"Of course, my dear," Martha smiled again, and stood up, and then sat in the chair facing the side of table not Nate's right. Nate leaned in and told her to kiss him, and she opened her mouth gently and kissed Nate tenderly. He brought his right hand to her rib cage, and with his right thumb, caressed the side of her left breast through the two layers of fabric. Nate broke off the kiss, retracted his hand, and sipped some more wine.

Nate asked how her flight was, and she told him about a young family that was noisy and bothersome during the whole time. She had no sleep on the plane, and it was past midnight in her home time zone. Needless to say, Briana was dead tired.

Their food arrived after twenty minutes. Martha noticed Nate stare at his for a moment. She wondered if there had been a mistake in the order, but then he picked up his cutlery. They chatted aimlessly as they ate. Nate told her about Germany, how he had traveled quite a bit around the country, mostly in short trips. He opined how impressed he was by the German people. Before coming here, Nate had thought of Germans as cold and impersonal, but everyone he met was nice and helpful. He had spent most of his recent time in Northern Germany, being stationed in Hamburg, but made one trip to Heidelberg, and several years earlier Nate had worked in Munich for three years.

Martha did her best to smile, laugh, and adore, but the jet lag increasingly overtook her best intentions, and the wine didn't help matters. By the time Nate paid, she felt dead on her feet. They walked home hand-in-hand, which suited Martha fine, and she leaned on Nate for support.

When they arrived at Nate's apartment, Martha declared herself too tired to smile, laugh, and adore. She promised she would do a better job after a good night's sleep. Nate ordered her to strip in the living room, which took little time. "You will sleep naked in my bed," he told her, and kissed her again. She kissed him back. "Go ahead, and get ready. Call me when you're going to bed," he patted her tenderly on her ass.

Martha, still naked, picked up her suitcase and clothing, and carried them to the upstairs bedroom. She retrieved her toiletries bag, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. After finishing up on the toilet, Martha washed up, and called out to Nate she was ready for bed.

Nate climbed the stairs by two, and walked Martha to the bedroom. He pulled the duvet down, and told her to lie down on her tummy. Nate stripped down to his underwear, and climbed over top of Martha, and straddled her, resting his butt on her thighs. Nate started to massage Martha's shoulders, then her arms, then her back, and then he lifted off her legs, and moved to one side and massaged her butt cheeks. No one had ever massaged Martha's ass cheeks before, and she was stunned how good it felt to have the muscles down deep invigorated by a firm massage. Then he massaged her legs, until he reached her feet, and firmly pressed this thumbs down the soles of her feet. Martha had fallen gently asleep when Nate ordered her to roll over onto her back.

He straddled her hips again, this time tenderly massaging her face starting with her forehead, then her cheek bones, and worked his way to her neck. Then her upper chest, including a careful caress of her lovely tits, then down her rib cage. Nate dismounted her, and now brought his right hand between her legs, and massaged the soft flesh over her clitoris. Martha grew nervous, but Nate told her to relax. He massaged the soft folds over her pussy back-and-forth, gradually increasing the speed and pressure of his fingers. Martha's breathing quickened, and her chest heaved her lovely tits up and down with increasing urgency. Martha clenched her fists with anticipation she drew closer to release. Nate didn't miss the cue, and pressed even harder into her clit, and sped up his oscillating motion. Martha started moaning with every breath.

As Martha approached climax, Nate pinched her left nipple with his left thumb and forefinger, and started jiggling her tit side to side in pace with his right hand. The sudden attention to her tits catapulted Martha over the edge, and she drew in a deep breath and held it in while she arched her back as her pelvis burst into orgasmic spasms. Wave after wave drilled through her crotch and radiated throughout her body. The orgasmic tremors slowly subsided, and Martha let out a long, satiated breath.

"Sweet dreams," Nate kissed Martha tenderly on her forehead, and pulled the bed covers over her naked body. Nate turned off the lights and retreated down the stairs to the living room. He went into his office. The computer clock read 21:03. It was 5:03 on Friday afternoon back home. Nate went online to his financial management portal, and cashed in two US dollar two treasury bills for $20,000 each. The portal told him it could take up to three business days for the money to appear in his account. He checked his line of credit – there was lots of room to cover the shortfall.

Nate phoned his bank in Canada, and explained he wanted to move 40,000 in US dollars from his line of credit to a bank account in Germany, and he wanted access to the money on Monday. The bank agent said the money would arrive immediately by wire transfer, and there was a $20 service fee. She explained she was sending him an email with a link to a secure website. She told Nate had to log on using his on-line banking credentials and complete the form to authorize the transfer. The banking assistant told him she would be there for another thirty minutes before leaving work. She would look for the authorization to transfer the funds, and she promised to process it as soon as it arrived.

The email with the link arrived at Nate's inbox while he was still on the phone with the banking agent. He thanked her, hung up, logged in, and completed the online form. It took all of two minutes to complete the form, including the details of the German bank account the money was to be wired to, and Nate hit the 'submit' button.

Nate started parsing his email inbox for other messages. Two minutes later a pop-up notification announced another email had arrived from his bank. He opened it. It was the same woman from the bank – she confirmed she had received his funds release authorization, and she had wired the money – it was in his German account now. She thanked him for his business and closed by saying have a good weekend. Nate navigated his web browser to his German banking portal, and sure enough his account had gained over 36,000 Euro since he last looked at it.

The rest of his evening was consumed by tidying up details of his consulting practice, preparing tax notices, compiling billing records, and writing his weekly progress report. He nursed another half bottle of red wine over the two hours of business housekeeping. At 11 PM, he decided to turn in. He turned the lights off and climbed the stairs by two. Nate brushed his teeth, and then quietly slipped into his dark bedroom. He undressed to his underwear, and then pulled the covers back on his side of the bed. Martha startled awake and sat up. "Who's there!?" she challenged.

"It's okay," Nate soothed quietly, realizing she was probably disoriented. "Go back to sleep. You can smile, laugh, and adore me tomorrow."

"Oh," was all she could muster, and lay back onto the bed, as the day's events came back to her, including the orgasm Nate administered to her sleep. Nate slipped onto the oversized bed beside her, and pulled the covers up. Martha was lying on her back. Nate snuggled beside her, and rested his left arm over her bare chest, gently cupping his hand over her left breast. Martha listened to Nate's breathing in the darkness, and heard him drift off to sleep in just a few minutes while his hand remained embracing her breast.

She had shot a minor jolt of adrenaline when Nate awoke her, enough to keep her wide away while Nate purred softly beside her. She thought of the ridiculousness of her situation, of the lengths of indignity she was suffering to rescue her irresponsible, immature daughter. This had to stop. This had to be the last time. Martha had to break the cycle, and she lay awake for the next two hours pondering how to achieve that while Nate unconsciously caressed her bosom.