Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 05

Steve watched her fall. Thank God the grass was thick and hadn't been cut in over a week. The fall certainly hurt, but he was sure she wasn't injured. He rushed up and quickly wrapped the chain around her waist.

She looked up. Her heart was pounding. She was horrified, but in a way glad. He was going to chain her at the waist, a bad thing, but he could have chained her neck.

He laughed; he used a master lock and joined the chain tightly around her waist. He gave it a tug, "Up you go."

She exclaimed, "No!"

He reached own and grabbed her collar. He pulled up. "I said up you go." He took the chain and held it up. You want me to chain you around the neck?

She shook her head in the negative.

"Follow me then."

She followed as he led her back to the lawn mower. Once back at the mower he locked the free end of the chain to the back of the mower. He looked back at Cathy. She looked tired, but still fit enough for a little activity. He smiled, "Try to keep up." He thought he might around the yard a little; he'd make her try to scamper along behind.

He turned on the engine and started slowly across the lawn.

She followed, connected to the back of the tractor by about twelve feet of chain. She was tired and absolutely exhausted, but she saw one more chance. He was driving the tractor without watching her. She charged the tractor. Her plan was to knock him off the seat, and drive away before he could get up, then he could chase her around the yard all afternoon.

Cathy hit him in the back with her body as hard as she could. It wasn't enough.

Steve realized his mistake right away. He turned off the tractor, dropped the key in his trousers, and turned around. She was scared, "So you still want to play? That was stupid Cathy. How are you going to drive the tractor with your hands behind your back?"

That had been her last chance, it was dumb anyway, and she blew it. She collapsed on the grass.

He looked at her, "Oh no. It doesn't end like that."

Since he had the key he knew she couldn't do anything with the tractor, but in the shed he had another tool. A year before Leah died they'd had a raccoon problem. Rather than kill them he'd purchased a twelve foot pole with a rope attachment that looped at the end. He'd used it to loop the roped end over the raccoon's head, and then push the animal into a wooden box for shipment someplace to be released in the wild.

He found the pole and returned to the tractor and Cathy, "Hold up your head."

She saw the device and knew what it was for, "No!"

He repeated, "Hold up your head."

"No, Steve, please that's so degrading."

He was firm, "Up."

She wanted to just cry, "No Steve please. That's for animals."

Again he ordered, "Hold up your head."

Defeated, and thoroughly humiliated, she held her head up.

Steve circled her head with the rope and pulled it taut. He walked to the back of the tractor, as he moved the rigid pole forced her to follow at precisely twelve feet. He leaned down and unlocked the length of chain he'd originally used as his tool to bring her to the house. With the pole in one hand, and the chain in the other he ordered, "OK, back to the house."

She looked at him and mouthed an obscenity.

He repeated, "March." Not waiting he started toward the house.

Cathy had no choice; the long rigid pole impelled her forward. She slowly and uncomfortably was pushed and walked to the front door. The chains around her feet slathered across the grass, while another chain held her hands tightly behind her back.

As they reached the top of the steps, he looked around, "Well here we are, right back where we started."

She got more butterflies in her stomach, "What are you going to do to me now?"

He pushed the pole down so that she was forced to kneel on the hard concrete paving of the front porch. "You've been very bad, a really naughty little slave. First you're getting a lot of kisses, then a nice warm bath followed by a soothing massage finished with some creams and salves to fix up your many wounds. Then I think I'll have to punish you."

She looked up with sad pleading eyes, "You wouldn't spank me would you?"

He laughed, "Oh I think a spanking is definitely in order." Then he walked over and undid the evil pole that held her head. He helped her to her feet. He kissed her on both cheeks, and then on both eyes, "Come on little slave girl. It's time you learned who the master is around here."

Cathy giggled; it had become a silly game again, just like the bustier and the red ribbon. She looked up pleadingly, "Oh master, please have pity on your little slave?"

He laughed, and took her gently by the elbow, "Come on, let's go inside and get you cleaned up."

She laughed, "Oh yes sir."

Together they walked back inside the house. Both were pretty happy. Steve's stupid and mean spirited introduction of the chains could have been the tragic end of a budding love affair, as it was Cathy's morning game of hide and seek had turned his stupid act into another childish sex game.

A Thorough Cleaning Leads to More Love:

Steve got Cathy inside and upstairs to the bathroom, "My oh my, you're a mess."

Together, standing in the tub, Cathy saw what she felt; her naked flesh was a mass of tiny cuts and scrapes' "I really hurt Steve."

He turned on the water, and they both stood under the wet spray. For him it was just a nice tepid little rinse, but for Cathy every place where the water hit a scratch or an abrasion there was pain.

He was careful. Using his hands he took a bar of unscented soap and lathered her from top to bottom. He thoroughly soaped her hair with the simple soap, scrubbing deep into her scalp to get all the sap, pine needles, and dirt out. Being a lot taller he could lather and re-lather her hair from above. With her hands behind her back he could see her little boobs as they bounced and jiggled about. With the soap suds and the silky wetness glistening around her nipples and aureoles he was getting very aroused.

He used his fingers and massaged her scalp. He was gentle but firm. He could tell she really like it. Her hair hung down just below her ears.

He soaped up her ears, keeping a finger in each one; he took the flexible nozzle and sprayed them out. He nuzzled and kissed each ear, he nibbled on each tiny lobe.

While her hair was wet he took a brush and combed the knots out trying to get any residual sap. He combed a part in it straight down the middle. He thought how her hair, thanks to his incremental efforts, was several inches shorter than when he first met her. He'd also gotten her to stop using any rinses, and though there were still traces of her past life there, her hair was mostly back to its natural color.

He knew she liked her hair longer and he knew she didn't particularly like her real color, but that had been a part of the plan. Women identified very strongly with their hair. Their impression of their sexuality and self-image was closely connected to the way they thought their hair looked. He'd been slowly working to her erode her self-image through his piecemeal attack on her hair. He thought it might be working.

Standing in the shower with her hair lank and wet he thought maybe another visit to the beauty parlor, another minor diminution of her ego was in order, "Cathy let's get some of these uneven ends trimmed later today."

She would've liked to reach up and try to feel what he was describing, but her hands were still chained behind her back, "Oh I don't know. I thought it was OK, and it's already pretty short. Steve do you think there's enough to cut?"

He used his hands to gently massage the back of her head and neck and clean out the sweat and grime that accumulated under her collar. He kissed the side of her face, "Just another trim."

Knowing he'd insist, she sighed, "Do we have to?"

He used his hands to soap her shoulders, rinse the soapy water, and gently apply pressure to her upper back. He could feel the tension in her muscles back there, "Yeah, I think so." He kissed her again and felt her press against him with her head.

He washed up and down her arms, and got all the grit off her wrist chain and from under her wrist manacles. He looked at the master lock that held her hands together. It was out of place, "Raise your arms a little honey so I can get your underarms better.

She raised her arms upward and backward, "Stop it that tickles." She pressed back against him.

He kissed the nape of her neck while he lathered and slathered down her back. He turned her around and soaped her breasts and stomach. Her exercises had firmed her up nicely. Her soft little boobies stood out and up like two perfect little pears, her dark brown aureoles made two perfect circles surrounding darker perfectly erect nipples. He took his lips and kissed and then nibbled on each one, gently sucking each gorgeous little nipple outward as he finished.

He looked in her eyes while he kissed and scrubbed, "You have beautiful little nipples. He patted her soapy stomach, "You're getting a little tummy. I like it"

He leaned down and kissed her navel, "You have a pretty navel button. You have an innie. It's cute."

The mention of her navel was embarrassing. She blushed.

Just as bad, the way Steve was holding her made it impossible to see if her stomach was that much bigger. She knew she'd gained a little weight lately. She attributed it to the rich foods Steve had been encouraging her to eat, and his refusal to let her weigh herself to find out what the damage was. She had never been a fat person, not by a mile, but she'd always been careful about her weight; skinnier girls always looked better when dressed.

She had worn a size four most of her adult life, but lately when shopping she'd had to buy a size up. It was partly due to her growing complacency, what being comfortable with Steve's approval, and his observations of other women's softer features. Though it made her a little more self-conscious she wanted to be the way Steve wanted her to be. She asked, "I'm not too fat am I?"

He rubbed over her tummy, "You're just right."

She felt better.

He got down on his knees and went to work on her lower body. Eyeball to vagina he said, "We need another little visit from the Nair doctor. He took his fingertips and lightly rubbed over her vaginal mound. Lately the flesh inside and between her labial lips had started to extrude more when she was aroused. He took his fingers and carefully pulled her labia apart. He felt her response. She shivered ever so slightly. He took his tongue and licked up and down her cleft. He smelled and tasted her vaginal fluid; it was a combination of urine and a sweet sticky maybe oily substance that had its own distinct sort of fishy aroma. He liked it.

He pressed his nose against her crease, and felt her push back against him. He got his nose right inside her vagina. It felt neat.

He held her ass and pulled her tighter to his face, sticking as much of his face in her pussy as he could. He softly bit a morsel, and heard her low breathy sigh.

He leaned back, got soap on his hands, and pushed his face into her pussy while he used his soapy hands to push and wipe over her rear end. Though his hands weren't overlarge, her ass was small. He was able to nearly grab and hold each ass cheek, one hand for each soft pink cheek. The more he kissed her lower lips the wetter she got. He took his lips and started to nibble and pull on the flesh that extruded between her peachy pink labia.

Cathy would have liked to run her fingers through his hair, maybe pull him in tighter to her puss, but her hands were still trapped behind her back. She giggled as she pushed against him, "Steve stop it. This isn't fair."

He backed off, and started to scrub up and down her thighs. The wetness from her vagina was starting to seep down her inner thighs. He cleaned out around her ankle cuffs. The chains clanked noisily on the floor of porcelain tub.

Finally he got up. She was a lot shorter than he was. He had a terrific erection, but it stood well up on her stomach, way above her navel. If she were a little taller he guessed he could've got inside her while they were standing there. As it was he would've been standing too awkwardly to accomplish much.

He gave her whole body a final rinse, climbed out of the tub, and then lifted her out. The bathroom was hot and steamy, "Stay here. The screwdriver's in the bedroom. I want to unshackle you."

She didn't object. She wanted to stretch her arms.

He was out and back in a second. He got the wrist and ankle cuffs easily enough. The collar came off last. He took a hot wet washcloth and wiped around her neck and each wrist and ankle one more time. He held her tightly to his body and kissed the top of her head. He whispered, "Let's take a nap."

A nap was the last thing on her mind, but she nodded and followed him in the bedroom. He helped her on the still unmade bed, "Lie down on your stomach." he softly commanded.

She did as she was told. He hoped she knew what was coming next.

Steve sat on the bed and pulled her over, "I hope you know what's coming next."

She lay next to him anticipating something special.

He moved quickly. He got her on her stomach and on his lap and over his knee, "I told you that you would have to be punished."

Gee, she thought, that was fast, "You're not going to spank me are you?"

He answered, "Well you've been a naughty girl now haven't you?"

She thought he'd been kidding about a punishment. She thought a punishment meant more love making, certainly not what he seemed to have in mind, "Steve I'm a grown woman. I haven't been spanked since my father spanked me when I was five years old."

"Well then, you're long overdue."

She squirmed a little, but not much. She knew he was a lot stronger. Her best way out of this was with her mouth, "Look you wrapped a collar on me, chained my hands and feet, locked me out in the gazebo for a whole night, chased me naked around the yard, ran me down, yoked me with a rope and pole, forced me back in the house at the end of a pole, and then soaped and washed me from head to foot. Isn't that enough?"

In an uncharacteristically light and lilting voice he answered, "But I did it all for you."

She tersely answered, "Thanks, now let me roll over I want to kiss you."

He gently took his right hand and smoothed over her bare ass, "But I want to kiss your ass with the palm of my hand."

She softly replied, hoping for a better response, "If you let me roll over, I'll make you very happy."

He knew what that meant. It didn't make him happy. He wondered if she hadn't used the same phrase and the same enticement on her husbands. He told her so, "I bet you've said that to all the boys."

She knew what he meant, "Look Steve, I just don't want to be spanked, but I do want to make you happy."

"A spanking would make me happy."

She got sarcastic, and knew it was a mistake as soon as what she said came out, "Then let me spank you."

"Ah the naughty little girl comes back." He gave her a hard swat on the left cheek.

"Ouch, come on that hurt!"

He smacked her again, this time on the right cheek.

"Steve!"

He gave her another on the left.

She tried to squirm off his lap.

He walloped both cheeks again, really hard. He watched as the marks of his hands left bright red splotches on each cheek.

It wasn't funny anymore. It hurt! It hurt really bad! She squirmed and wiggled, "Let me up damn you!"

He let her have it again and then again on each cheek.

She panicked, and really started to fight to get off his lap.

He held her even more tightly, and let her have several more loud cracks on each butt cheek.

She kicked her legs up and down, then back and forth. She leaned down and bit him hard on the leg.

Steve jumped at the bite. It made him mad. He really went at it. He wailed into her ass. Time after time he brought his big hand down on her tender little ass. He lost count. He was angry! Her ass went from pink to red, and then in places blue. This is what she deserved. She had it coming. It was all her fault! She was to blame! She should never...he started crying. He grabbed Cathy by the waist and rolled her off his legs. He shouted at her, "Get out of here! Go in the bathroom!"

Crying, Cathy fled to the bathroom.

Steve sat on the bed. He'd stopped crying as soon as he'd started. What had he been doing? Who was he mad at? What was wrong with him? He finally got control of himself. To the tune of Cathy's tears from the other side of the door in the bathroom he whispered, "Cathy I'm going for a ride. Why don't you get dressed while I'm gone? I'll take you out to lunch."

From the other side of the door she shouted, "Go away!"

Steve, shoulders slumped, went to the closet, got a pair of pants and a shirt. He grabbed some socks and a pair of shoes. He walked back over to the bathroom door and heard her crying on the other side, "Look Cathy I didn't mean it. I'm really sorry. Put on something pretty while I'm out. I want to take you to lunch. We'll talk."

Through the door she shouted, "Go away." She kept crying.

He walked out of the bedroom down to his car, started it up and drove off. He started to softly cry. He'd hurt her, and in a way men weren't supposed to hurt women. He'd never, ever, not in his whole life, done anything like what he'd done to her. This was so wrong. What was wrong with him? What was it about Cathy that brought this side of his nature out? Was it because she was so small and homely? Was it that she always had that helpless and weak, that waifish needy look? Why did she have to say what she said? What had she said anyway?

Cathy sat in the bathroom and tried to dry her eyes. Why was she always crying? What was wrong with her? Shit, what was wrong with Steve? He really went deep. She was hurting very bad. She checked her little ass out. A few moments earlier they were on the edge of something wonderful, and then she'd said something. She'd made him an offer, and he'd gone off the wall. He'd misinterpreted what she said.

In her pain and her anger Cathy began to realize there was something about Steve she hadn't understood before. She'd gone after him believing she had another fish on the hook. He wasn't. Then she must have gone too far the other way. He wasn't some kind of manly saint. No he wasn't a fool, and he wasn't some perfect hero, but he wasn't some brutal bastard either. He was a man, just a regular guy, but there was something wrong, there was something else there. He never talked about his wife. She wondered. Hell, he'd done so much to change her. But what of him? He had his scars too. Wasn't there anything she could do for him? If there was she had to find out what the problem was.

OK, she'd get ready, she'd get dressed, and she'd wear something nice, something clean looking. They'd go to lunch. She thought. They'd talk. They'll start over, but if she didn't like what she heard, she was out of there.

++++++++++++

Steve got back in the very late afternoon. He hoped he hadn't hung out too long. When he walked in she was waiting in the foyer. She looked marvelous, no she looked perfect.

Cathy had selected a simple white cotton day dress. It buttoned up the front from the hem all the way to the collar. It had long, actually three quarter length sleeves. There was no trim, no shirring, no ruffles, just a simple dress, with a simple round collar. Around her neck she wore the one piece of jewelry Steve had given her, the locket that had belonged to Leah. She completed the dress with a pair of white saddle shoes, white socks, and a small white clutch purse. She wore no make up so she looked particularly plain; to accentuate the austere look she kept her hair in a simple tight pony tail. She had her glasses on.