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Author: LolaLane
Title: On Patience
The stars really did glitter this far north, she thought as she lay on
her back for one final time in what she knew would be a long while. The
reason for her punishment was irrelevant really, though she could call
up the incident with a surprising amount of clarity. She shivered into
the black blanket of stars, smelling the musky, dry earth all around
her. He would be coming back soon, with a cord of firewood and a bucket
of spring water. She felt very close to him out here in the mountains
with the dense trees at her back and the balmy grasses at her feet. The
sun had scorched the ground so thoroughly that heat was still clinging
to it, warming her bare feet and back. He wasn’t angry at her, so much
as disappointed, and this she felt in her chest, an ache that knotted
around her ribs and swelled with her breath. Anger was fleeting and
superficial, but disappointment and pain had to be removed, dug out of
every dark crevice in her body. She would welcome her punishment
tonight, just as she dreaded it. She lay on the ground as she had done
when she was a child; her ginger-orange hair had shifted, like autumn
leaves, to a fiery brown, and settled around her head in soft wavy
tendrils. Her mossy green eyes were sliding lazily from shadow to
shadow, explaining away all the frighteningly jagged forms. Her long
slender nose was freckled and her wide mouth parted to reveal her
straight colonnade of teeth. She was neither smiling, nor frowning. She
spread her arms out around her and dug her short nails into the dirt,
sifting through the rocks and leaves. She was a tall woman, slender and
composed; more handsome than elegant, but striking. She wore a simple
pair of jeans and white undershirt, which were both dusty and softened
by the hike. She had loved James from the very beginning; she had moved
into the house next door to him on her twelfth birthday. His mother ran
the Homeowner’s Association for the neighborhood and had sent him over
with a welcome cake. She had been surprised when she opened the door. He
stood before her, awkwardly tall at fourteen and just beginning to fill
into his long legs. “How did you know?” she asked, taking the cake. “The
moving van,” he said, tilting a half-smile at her. “No, how did you know
it’s my birthday?” she asked, grinning shyly. “I didn’t,” he said,
scratching the back of his collar, “That’s for your family. My mother
heads up the welcome wagon around here and she says, …well, welcome.”
“Oh,” she felt foolish and looked away, “Well, thank you, anyway.” “How
old are you?” he asked, not letting her escape to the kitchen. “Tw-twelve,”
she replied, fidgeting with the cake. He nodded and stepped back toward
the front entrance, “I’m next door, by the way. James, James Eaton.”
“Nora,” she said, putting the cake down on a stack of boxes and
extending her hand. He shook it clumsily, and they smiled at each other
again. He turned to the door and opened it. “See ya around, then,” he
said. Shutting the door behind him, Nora fell against it, lamenting her
shyness and lack of inspired statements. Those cool blue eyes, the
thick, black hair, and that crooked smile had made her melt. She stood
next to her bedroom window later that night, watching for him in the
dark. She saw him come in and turn the light on. He looked out into the
night, scanning the windows on her house. She was puzzled, but flicked a
light on. His face brightened and he waved. She waved back, her heart
hammering her chest so hard she felt faint. James motioned for her to
open the window. He went to his, which was already gaping and sucking
wind into his messy room. She slid the pane up and leaned out; he turned
around and picked up a small package from his dresser and threw it out
the window to her. “For me?” she called, catching it and turning it
over. It was wrapped in Christmas paper even though it was early July.
She giggled to herself. “Happy Birthday,” he called back, smiling that
lopsided smile and shutting the window before she could properly thank
him. She pulled her head back inside and unwrapped the gift like a
surgeon, protecting each scrap of paper. It was a tape; James had made
her a mixed tape. The million fireworks and sparklers from the block
party a week before couldn’t compare to the explosions in her heart at
that very moment. She fell asleep to those songs for the next four years
and he never knew. He wasn’t soundless in the forest; he crunched
through the leaves and bark and twigs like an elephant. She could hear
him coming for quite some time and both her mind and pulse began to
race, anxiously. She didn’t move, hoping her stillness would generate
the serenity she could no longer feel. Her feet twitched in the dirt and
she closed her eyes. The ground shook as he approached her; when she
opened her eyes, he was looming over her like the shadows. He nodded and
moved away to put down the wood and water, beginning a fire in the pit.
He barely looked at her while he piled wood and stoked the tiny embers.
She sat up and shook dirt out of her hair. The fire echoed in her mane
and her peachy skin glowed. “Enjoy your nap, Nora?” he asked. She
couldn’t tell how he was feeling and it made her irritable. “No, not
with you stomping around like that.” He looked at her sharply and locked
his gaze on her face. She was the one to break the stare and cast her
eyes into the heavens, swallowing hard. “I’m cold,” she said, wrapping
her arms around her knees and shivering. “I’m nearly done here,” he
replied, returning to his fire and adding more of the newspaper they had
brought with them. She nodded. When the fire roared, she scooted closer,
bathing herself in the smoky heat. He went into the tent and opened the
cooler, plucking out a beer for himself and a can of soda for her. He
dropped it in her lap and perched next to a log near the fire. “What’s
this?” she said, wondering why he was prolonging her punishment. “A
soda,” he replied, his beer hissing as he opened it. “Maybe I wanted a
beer, too,” she said, grumpily. He looked at her, frowning slightly, and
sighed. “One more year and then you can have a beer. Legally,” he said,
patiently, sitting back on his elbows and drinking deeply. Why was he
doing this? It was unbearable. Her insides were flipping like softened
Jello and he just sits there? She growled angrily and threw the can deep
into the trees beyond him. He raised an eyebrow. “That’s littering. It’s
a crime. I will not be a party to criminal behavior. Go get it,” he
instructed, his voice even despite the churning ice in his blue eyes. “I
can’t s-see in there,” she said, softly, realizing what a colossal
mistake that had been. Her brow furrowed and she looked away. “Tomorrow
then. First thing. The second the sun makes an appearance,” he nodded,
steeling himself to shove her out of the tent at the crack of dawn. She
would learn to have patience, to accept her punishment on his terms, and
to be obedient. He continued to drink his beer as she squirmed
restlessly. “James,” she began. He shook his finger at her and then
brought it to his lips, shushing. She stood and paced. He continued to
stare into the fire, allowing her to work herself up. She wanted it over
so badly it ate away at her very being. How could he be so cruel?
“James,” she began to whine a second time. “Quiet,” he ordered, glancing
at her crossly, “Sit down and be still. Think about every second of what
is coming. Every stroke, every feeling. See it all in your head. I don’t
want to hear another sound from you until I address you again. Is this
understood?” She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. He motioned to a
large rock and she sat on top of it, tucking her legs underneath her and
envisioning the thrashing that he had in mind for her. It would be
wicked, but measured. James never pushed beyond her limits, never
inflicted pain she could not bear. He would bend her over something, a
rock, a fallen tree, the flat bed of the truck…. He could see her
working it out in her head. He had punished her with enough frequency
that she could build a fairly accurate portrait in her mind. He stood
and went to the cooler for a second beer, still washing the heat off his
tired body. She was so silent and straight, her back proudly erect and
her lips twitching with her thoughts. She was afraid to even look at him
in this moment and he realized that this was great progress. He loved
her dearly and would marry her when she graduated, but now was the time
to cultivate and influence her, to make her his own as she had done the
very second he first laid eyes on her. He smiled at the memory of the
tape he had made; he could hear her playing it every night before she
fell asleep. She never knew. James tilted the bottle back and took a
long sip; he could feel that it was almost time and he needed to
prepare. He went into the tent to remove his socks and shoes, to
retrieve two switches he had cut earlier and his thick leather strap.
When he zipped up the tent, her gaze darted quickly toward him. Upon
seeing the strap, her eyes widened but she remained silent. There was
once a time that he appreciated seeing her beg, but now he savored her
resolve. He looked forward to seeing the struggle between fear and
obedience. Nora whimpered softly as he got closer; he set the implements
down on the ground and motioned for her to stand. She did so, her legs
trembling. She clutched the rock tightly for support and waited. He
touched her cheek, his rough hands sliding easily over her freckled
skin. He traced her creased brow with his thumb and pulled her lips to
his own, devouring her mouth wildly. She grabbed him around the waist
and let him scourge her mouth with his insistent tongue. Her body
fluttered. He pulled her closer, folding her against his warm skin and
pressing her pounding heart against his chest. He cradled the back of
her neck and sunk his fingers into her hair, curling them around her
waves. With one last, purging kiss, he pulled her back and shook his
head at her. “Not yet, my love,” he scolded, softly stepping backward,
“First, you must be punished.” She moaned miserably and he captured the
bottom of her shirt and drew it over her head. He next grabbed the waist
of her jeans and unbuttoned them, sliding the back of his hand down the
front until he could feel her panties. His crisply blue eyes locked on
hers as he pet her through the thin material; she flickered between the
heavens and the present. He grabbed her chin with his other hand and
kept her with him, slithering over her soft folds as she quivered. She
purred and he ran his thumb over her open mouth. “Enough,” he said,
taking the hips of her jeans between his strong fingers and shoving them
down her long, slender legs. She whimpered but stepped out of them,
letting him throw them over the log near the fire. Nora was clothed only
in her undergarments now, but the heat spreading up from her lap was
keeping the cold night air at arms length. She longed to fold herself
around his firm torso and trace the hard line of his jaw with her mouth.
Her hair was alive in the firelight; the same golden red that he knew
years ago. It made him smile. He turned her around, nudging her
shoulders until she was bent slightly, her palms braced on the mossy
surface. He unfastened her bra and drew it down her long arms, cupping
her breasts in his hands and scraping his calloused fingers over her
aching nipples. She breathed deeper, less predictably as he teased her
skin, her breasts, her belly. He knelt behind her and drew her panties
down her legs, vision eclipsed by her pale moons. He inhaled her, drank
her in, feasted on her desire. WIthout a word, he balled up her panties
and tucked them into her mouth, sighing genuinely into the sight of her,
naked and obedient, eager. James palmed her bottom and smacked his broad
hand down hard on it, watching it shiver, watching her gasp. He smiled,
and spanked the other side equally. She burned already, the cold air
hitting her hot skin. She had to pace herself. She had to refrain from
submitting to the pain too soon. He slipped a hand between her thighs,
tickling her wet slit and then sliding his palm down her leg and yanking
her feet farther apart. Pressing a heavy hand into the small of her
back, he pushed her over so that her bottom was fully displayed and taut
for him.
She trembled.
He began with the strap; taking it into his left hand, he swung it
vigorously. It cut through the air with little sound but cracked against
her backside so loudly that birds in the nearby trees took to the skies.
She shuddered, biting hard on her panties. He raised the strap again and
struck her just below the first; she released a muffled squeal and
panted. Leaning back down, she prepared herself for a third. He lashed
her furiously across the thighs and she began to cry, her ribs heaving
with panic. He placed a hand on her glowing cheeks, rubbing over the
welts. She moaned, still crying. “You’re doing very well, Nora,” he
whispered, his fingers inching toward her crevice. She wanted the
comfort so badly that she leaned onto his hand. He removed it at once
and slapped her ass, angrily. “No, no, Nora,” he reprimanded as she
winced, “I decide when you feel pleasure, just as I decide when you feel
pain.” He lifted the strap again and brought it down on her aching
backside. She sobbed, nodding furiously. He grabbed her face and leaned
closer to her, kissing her tears. “Do you understand?” he asked, looking
into her wide, stormy eyes. She nodded again and mumbled to him. “Good,”
he smiled, dropping the strap next to her. Before picking up the
switches, he sat beside her on the rock and pulled her close. She clung
to him, her body heaving with sobs. He held her and stroked her hair.
When her breath steadied, he pushed her away from him again. “Turn
around, spread your legs, and place your hands flat on the ground,
Nora,” he commanded, selecting one of the two switches. She did; her
sore bottom ablaze in the firelight. He ran the switch up the inside of
her leg and over her swollen slit. He tapped her lightly and she jumped.
He grinned to himself, thinking about how he planned to fill her and
make her scream when he was done. James swallowed thickly and moved to
her right, snapping the switch down callously over her bruised cheeks.
It was a new pain, much more like a bite than the deep owning blows of
the strap. He was salting her wounds with the switch, raining these
lighter, shallower stripes wickedly upon her tender skin. He took the
slender branch to her repeatedly, systematically, obstinately. He
crossed her skin until she felt the ridges rise like a drain board. She
sobbed, her tears running down her face and plopping into the dirt. Her
knees buckled and she growled out cries. James knew she’d had enough and
he threw the stick into the woods. She fell to the ground and removed
the panties from her mouth, her backside scalded. He picked her up and
held her against his heart. She cried into it, her gasping breath
matching the soft thudding. He kissed her tenderly, her mouth, her eyes,
her cheeks, her chin. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, as he soothed her. “I
know, my darling. I love you,” he replied, shushing her with his mouth.
He had plucked the despair from her body and filled her instead with a
cavernous need. A need she would now beg him to fill over and over
again. “Patience, my love,” he whispered, as he traced over her skin
with his slow, laborious tongue. Nora sighed, content to let him work
her over in his own time.
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