AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At first, Casey had felt ashamed. To be hauled over the coals and spanked by her employer and boyfriend in the presence of a stranger was extremely humiliating. However, when the visitor’s eyes twinkled and the corner of his lips curled fractionally upwards, she had the customary tingle between her legs. Horrified at the way her body seemed to react to the voyeur in their midst, she averted her eyes and concentrated on the threads in the carpet. It did not work. She was being observed closely and intimately by a man twice her age. When Rob occasionally ran a finger over her marks, it made her ripple with butterflies in her stomach, and she reached a conclusion; she liked being watched.
The spanking finished, and for a few moments Casey lay across his lap, breathing deeply as he slowly released his restraining grip on her wrist. She slipped down onto her knees by him, clutching her throbbing bottom.
“You can go now, Casey,” said Rob.
“Yes, sir,” she sniffed.
Rob wiped a tear from her eye. “It’s done, Casey. Don’t worry, you’ve learnt your lesson. Why not make us all a nice cup of tea. Find some cake, too.”
“Yes, sir,” said Casey, rising up. “I will.”
* * *
Rob watched as she shuffled out of the room, her hand up her skirt as she frantically rubbed her bottom. As the door shut behind her, he turned to his friend and smiled. “I’m very pleased with how things are going.”
“Yes, I can see,” said the grey haired man. “You’ve got a lovely girl, Rob. She’s definitely worth the effort.”
“I know,” said Rob. “Thanks for all your advice. I’m grateful. I thought you might enjoy watching the progress.”
“I have. It’s been… interesting.” The other man grinned subtly. “Is she really that disorganised?”
“Disorganised? No. Unobservant? Some times. After all, the things she bought today were all there yesterday,” said Rob mischievously.
“Sorry?” asked the man.
Rob rose and went to the cupboard in the corner of his room. He flung open the doors, and there on the bottom shelf was a pile of printer paper, toner cartridges, and report covers. “See, she really needs to pay better attention, don’t you think, Mac?”
Mac grinned from ear to ear. Rob had preparation down to a fine art.
Chapter Eleven: Being Dutiful
Casey was in turmoil, a neurotic state of mind brought about by the requirement, from time to time, to visit her parents. She had long ago given up on the notion that a child blessed with the genetic material of each of her parents should, when blended into its own genetic soup, have a personality that mirrored its parents. Casey did not. There was nothing remotely similar that triggered a connection between herself and her parentage—so much so that it took a furtive sneak at her birth certificate to convince herself she was their real daughter.
The reason for her visit was sitting in the car next to her. When she told her parents she had a job working for Mr Tolchard, their response was one of delight, since any employment was a blessing. However, when she announced she had moved into Mr Tolchard’s house and called him Rob, she was greeted with a different response.
“We haven’t even met the man!” blurted out her mother.
Rob agreed it had to be rectified. Casey’s attempts at procrastination were dismissed, and they arranged an appointment at her parents’ house. On the drive there, Rob had to fold his lean body like origami to fit inside Casey’s Mini. To Casey’s relief, he did not comment on her abrupt gear changes, nor on her tendency to slam on her brakes at the last minute, nor on her oblique references to other equally inept road users. Brushing down his trousers, he had carefully sealed his lips.
He was not wearing a suit, and Casey was relieved he had dressed down for the occasion of their visit, though dressing down did not prevent Rob from looking smart or well-manicured in appearance. His casual clothing was so smart, that she had huffed at her own jeans and garish t-shirt and had gone back to change into a knee length skirt and unadorned top. She had learnt how to please Rob without him commenting.
Perched on the edge of a sofa, they drank tea out of mismatched mugs. Casey grimaced, and her face became more alarmed when her mother appeared with a packet of rich tea biscuits, tore open the wrapping and offered them around. As they nibbled, the four of them tried hard to find common ground for conversations. Rob’s profession brought admiration but no understanding. To Casey’s parents, lawyers stood in courts with wigs and spoke a great deal. It was lost on them that many sat all day reading and writing and never appeared in courts.
“Commercial law, mum,” explained Casey. “Contracts, agreements, those kind of things.”
“I know, dear,” said her mother.
Her father raised his passion for football. Rob smiled and said he preferred cricket, which did for a brief period sustain some conversation between her father and Rob. Where Rob obtained his knowledge of the sport was lost on Casey, who had never seen him watch it on television.
The awkwardness seemed to weigh heavily on Casey, and she found she could not help the descent into overt put-downs.
“Mum! Rob doesn’t want to know how many cakes you bake for the church fete.” The tone of her voice was on the edge of exasperation and appeared to become worse with every passing minute. She rolled eyes up at the Artex ceiling, then back down to the woven threads of colour at her feet. The carpet was the same one from her childhood days, and it seemed to project remarkable ugliness up towards her eyes. Rob’s house had antique wooden floors throughout, with Axminster rugs strategically placed for comfort. Casey’s ears pricked up when she heard pigtails being mentioned.
“Please don’t tell him about my school days,” said Casey with indignation.
“Why not?” asked her father. “They were the best years of your life.”
“Were they?” snapped Casey.
