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Aprons For Gayle Ch. 01

By: Addicted2Writing



AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is the brain child of the ruggedly handsome (he made me say that!) Scooter Titenbum, my editor extraordinaire. He made a flippant comment, and I thought it was a brilliant idea. So we have been collaborating together for the past few weeks. 

There's a big transition for Gayle in the beginning so the fun and good bits are gradually introduced. Their play times will be worth the wait, I promise. 

I love reading all the comments, even constructive criticism. Scooter and I are obsessive, die-hard perfectionists.

And please vote. 

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CHAPTER ONE

SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 2014; Leuchars, Fife, Scotland

"Will you marry me?" Hamish asked.

In that moment and with those words, Gayle knew it was over. 

EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER, JUNE 2nd, 2013; Gaithersburg, Maryland

Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom of her home, Gayle Boyce brushed back her shoulder-length, curly light-brown hair and scoffed at the puffiness under her eyes. She couldn't believe she was only 22; she felt at least 40. Gayle's three hours of sleep every night was aging her rather quickly.

A year earlier she'd been a junior studying archaeology with a side interest in architecture at Montgomery College. Everything changed when her mother had an unexpected stroke at 46. Her father couldn't afford to put her in a live-in facility, so everyone decided to care for her at home. 

The strain on the family was a difficult adjustment for the Boyces, especially for Gayle. As the oldest daughter, she'd taken it upon herself to take charge of the home. 

The lasting effect on her mother's condition was paralysis on the right side of her body and slurred speech, which wasn't very often as she was rarely comatose. The food that she ate had to be pureed with a special formula for extra vitamins. 

The worst part of it all was that her mother rarely remembered her husband or her children. The only blessing was the few times a month she did know her family, and they would share a laugh from memories or a joke between them. But the next day all would be forgotten and everyone was a stranger to her again. 

To make ends meet from the insurmountable hospital stay and other bills that were piling up, Gayle's father changed his work hours to part-time, while Gayle dropped out of her junior year of college to take on two part-time jobs. They would then alternate their work schedules to care for her mother. 

Her younger sister, Catelyn, who had just turned 19, was a freshman in college and worked part-time as well. But her father insisted her money go to her college expenses, not to the family. Catelyn never let the chance pass her by when she could care for her mother, mainly when there were work conflicts between Gayle and their father. 

It had worked out fairly well at first.

"Gayle! Breakfast is on the table!" Catelyn hollered from the kitchen.

Gayle straightened her waitress uniform, took one last look at her wretched reflection and went downstairs. Sunday mornings were her favorite day of the week, it being the one day she had an hour to sit down and get caught up with Catelyn and her father. 

"Hey, Cat," Gayle said, trying to make her voice sound upbeat. "Dad still in with Mom?" she asked as she sat down and opened the 'Help Wanted' section of the Washington Post.

"Yeah," she replied as she stuffed a piece of bacon in her mouth. "He said he was almost done dressing her."

Catelyn even appeared to Gayle to be ten years older than she was. 

"Have you been studying for your exam tomorrow?" Gayle asked.

"Yeah, but English Comp isn't as easy as you'd think it'd be. Michael's been asking me to go out with him, and --" 

When Catelyn saw the expression on Gayle's face change to sadness, she suddenly grew seriously. "Sorry, sis. I know you haven't been out much since ... Gayle, before Dad comes in there's something I want to talk to you about."

Gayle instantly lost her appetite. 

Lowering her voice, Catelyn whispered, "I heard Dad crying in his bedroom again last night." Gayle nodded; she'd heard him too. "I think it's time we put Mom into Cherrydale. They can take care of her better than we can, and --"

"You know we can't do that. First, it would kill Dad. Second we don't have the money." She lifted up the newspaper. "Why do you think I'm looking for a third part-time job?"

"Oh, please. You know that won't be enough even if you worked twenty part-time jobs."

"What other option do we have?" she spat, her voice rising a little too loud.

Catelyn placed her hand on Gayle's wrist to silence her then handed her sister a piece of paper. "Look, my roommate's older sister has worked for Discrete Servants Agency as a maid for two years in Ireland, and she actually loves it. She gets an insane amount of money."

Gayle read the card. "Are you kidding me?" She laughed hysterically. "I can't go to freakin' wherever thousands of miles away!"

"She told me her sister made nearly $60,000 the first year, and she's been able to sightsee all over Ireland and even England." She sighed, knowing she wasn't getting through to her sister. "You said Cherrydale cost, what, $20,000 a year."

"Cat, drop it. She's probably working as a sex slave, for that amount of money." Gayle huffed.

Catelyn didn't have the chance to reply because their father walked into the room, ending the discussion. 

They talked mainly about how her mom was and what Catelyn was studying in school. Gayle's mind wandered to the agency's proposition.

Soon Gayle was left alone. She drank another cup of coffee, cleaned up the kitchen then went to sit with her mother. Often she'd just sit by the bed and read her a Reader's Digest or a Cosmopolitan article. This day her mother was awake but staring blankly at the ceiling. Again as she read she kept thinking about the agency and whether it was even a possibility. 

Catelyn was right. They really didn't have any other option. She made a mental note to make sure to call the agency the next day.

THE SAME DAY; St. Andrews Golf Course, Scotland

Hamish McDougal lined up his shot on the approach to the 17th hole, taking his time because he absolutely hated this hole. The pathway, out of bounds area to the right and the dreaded road-hole bunker to the left had always been a challenge for him, as well as most golfers. I am damn well going to hit the green this time, he thought confidently.

He settled in, recited a quick silent Golfer's prayer to himself then swung gracefully. The club connected directly with the ball; the gentle 'snick' told him he had hit a beauty. 

The ball flew straight as an arrow at the flag briefly before the treacherous cross wind nudged the ball to the left. With his heart in his mouth, he watched the ball hit the front of the green, its momentum taking it closer and closer to the dreaded trap. With what looked like the last turn of the ball it toppled over the edge into the bunker.

"Fuck!" Hamish exclaimed and threw his club at his bag with a disgusted sigh.

His long-time friend, Dr. Jack Jenkins, consoled him. "Hard luck, mate. You didn't deserve that." 

The words were sincere, but the gentle, gleeful smirk told Hamish that with the game all square, he was grinning inside triumphantly. You bastard! he blasted his friend with a low growl.

Walking onto the green, Hamish looked disconsolately down into what had to be the deepest bunker he had ever seen. The ball nestled close to the back edge with sand piled to the rear. 

"Shit. Shit. Shit. And more shit," he groaned again. 

Hamish knew the shot to get it out and onto the green was nearly unplayable, never mind getting close to the pin at all. If he didn't make this shot, Jack would win this hole, making the match a draw, at best, for Hamish.

"Looks like luck is on my side," Jack teased as he stood on the edge of the bunker.

"The game isn't over yet, you jammy barstard," Hamish spat playfully. 

"Is that a challenge? Hmm. I'll bet you the after-round drinks against me getting a nude Kate Winslet in your bedroom that you don't make this hole in the next two shots." 

"Ha! You know Ms. Winslet personally, do you? And how, exactly, will that work when I win?"

"Not to worry," Jack answered. "You get it onto the green, up and down in two from there, and I will get you Kate naked as the day she was born in your bedroom. Fail and you buy the drinks. Deal?"

He thought, Jack is joking, surely. But he is looking too serious to be joking, and with him having a prestigious Harley Street practice then just perhaps ...

Hamish shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Deal."

Hamish slid down into the bunker and settled next to the ball. Sighing heavily, he lined up the shot, shuffled his feet into the sand to give him a solid grip, gave the club some gentle practice swings then held his breath. He swung at the ball with all he was worth.

A cloud of fine sand flew up into his face; the wind again looking to ruin his entire day. He closed his eyes but not quickly enough; the sand instantly blinded him and his eyes stung horribly. Coughing and spitting out the sand that made it into his mouth, he forced his eyes open, not wanting to scratch them, and looked around. The bunker was as deep as he was tall, and he couldn't see the green past the edge. 

"Where the hell is the ball?" 

As Hamish looked around, he caught the expression on Jack's face. His chin was at his feet agape with a look of pure shock on his face. Stepping out of the bunker and following his gaze, Hamish saw that the ball was no more than a foot from the flag, an easy putt to make his four and par. 

Hamish had just played what was probably the best shot of his life. With Jack's shot being some 40 feet from the hole, Hamish had a very good chance to actually win the hole and to probably win the match.

A few minutes later and some three further shots from Jack, Hamish had won the hole.

Turning to Jack, Hamish said, "Looks like you are going to have to persuade my baby to get her kit off for me. But how in hell's name are you going to manage that?"

"I promised you a night with Ms. Winslet, and a night with a naked Ms. Winslet you shall have." Jack dipped into his pocket and handed Hamish two one pound coins. "Get yourself to Blockbusters and hire a DVD for the night. That gets her naked in your house. 'The Reader' is the best I've heard for some good ogling, but 'Titanic' is pretty hot too."

Hamish stood scowling at his former best, long-time friend and no less a bastard knowing he had been had. "Hope your next shite's a hedgehog, and you get terminal syphilis." 

Chuckling deeply, Jack managed to contain himself from going into a laughing fit. "Best two quid I've ever spent ... your honour, I believe." 

Finishing the game, the two men were in the club house catching up with one another and their families while Hamish enjoyed his victory drink.

"How have you been since your Dad's death a few months back?" Jack asked.

Hamish shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Dad left in his will that in order for me to get the title and land I'd have to marry by the time I'm 30. He never did anything unconditionally."

"Well, then, what about Winnie? I know she's pining for you."

Hamish chortled. "Hell, no! That woman could talk to a brick wall for hours. I like my women submissive, you know that."

"Good luck finding a lass like that in these parts, mate."

"I'll have no trouble finding a wife. Being in love with her is the question. I just need someone to keep my home clean and fuck occasionally to relieve the stress. To hell with love."

Jack laughed. "There's the Mr. Stone Heart I let beat me today! I forget you are a bit of a control freak." He paused a moment. "You remember John Ramsay? He found an American maid with some agency in Washington, D.C."

"Is she submissive?"

Jack laughed again. He found Hamish very entertaining with his fetishes. "Of course she is. Isn't that the one thing you two had in common when you were at university?"

Hamish thought for a moment. The idea of having a submissive maid would solve both of his problems. Having an American, though, was the only drawback. He'd heard how aggressive and stubborn they were, and he didn't want to have to deal with the emotional burden that came along with them. 

On the other hand, the reason why maids were found overseas was because a Scottish woman being a maid was beneath them. Sign of the times. 

The thought appealed to him. He would get his house in order and have a bit of fun with her until he found a woman to marry.

"You still friends with him?" Hamish asked.

Without a word, Jack picked up his cell phone, asked a few questions, wrote something down on a small notepad and ended the call. "Call her after noon."

Hamish took the paper. "It's worth a shot, I suppose."

TUESDAY, JUNE 4th; Washington, D.C.

Gayle had just completed filling out the application in the lobby of Discrete Servants Agency for her interview with Mrs. Monroe then gave it to the receptionist. She caught herself biting her cuticles and wished she could stop altogether, but it wasn't easy. It was a terrible nervous habit she'd had since childhood, and she had managed to stop until she dropped out of college when her mother became ill. She never had the willpower to stop herself, and she hated feeling so weak. 

A woman walked out from a door looking like a prostitute with her cleavage overflowing from her low-cut blouse and short skirt with a slit on the side that practically went up to her hip. Gayle's apprehension about how conservatively she was dressed went out the window. 

Gayle watched the receptionist take in some papers to Mrs. Monroe's office then came back out. "Gayle, Mrs. Monroe will see you now," the receptionist announced.

"Thank you." 

Gayle took a deep breath and walked into her office, where Mrs. Monroe was putting a manila folder into a cabinet. She was instantly relieved when she saw Mrs. Monroe dressed the complete opposite of the prior interviewee.

"Good morning, Gayle. Have a seat," she said after they shook hands. "Thank you for being punctual and decently dressed. Let me tell you about Discrete Services. Our clientele are looking for very specific maid services to be provided to them. Most are single men who need their homes maintained in a certain manner."

Gayle frowned, thoroughly confused. "Certain manner? I don't understand."

"They want a woman submissive, some prefer male. No strings."

"Mrs. Monroe, I have to come right out and ask. Is sex involved in any way?"

"It can be, for some men. It depends on what he's looking for." Gayle's eyes widened. "It's nothing illegal, I assure you. Would that be a problem?"        

To her, if sex was involved it was still prostitution. She battled with herself for a moment about morals and her upbringing versus the dire need for the money for her mother.

"Um, I don't think so under the right circumstances." She whispered hesitantly. She could always back out later.

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself."

"Well, right now I'm working two part-time jobs waitressing." She then went on to explain about her mother's condition and the appeal of possibly making so much money in such a short time.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. I did some waitressing myself when I went to college, and it drove me crazy sometimes with rude customers. How do you handle the demanding, persnickety ones?" 

"I smile, tell them no problem, give them what they asked for then curse them when I walk away." She smiled sweetly, trying to hide the fact that she was being serious.

She laughed. "I had more days like that than I can count. What do you like most about waitressing, Gayle?"

"I've never wanted a desk job, and being on my feet constantly keeps my mind preoccupied from watching a clock all day."

"Very good. And your least favorite?"

"Hmm. Probably not getting a thank you if their food is out promptly or that I've kept their glasses full. Extra tips don't matter, strangely enough. I've always appreciated a pat on the back more than a bonus. It's a job, I understand that, but common courtesy every once in a while makes it worth it, in a way."

Mrs. Monroe nodded. "Are you willing to go the extra mile to please your employer?"

She chuckled. "All the time. I'm the designated person to call during a small snowstorm or when a coworker is sick. I don't mind, though. It makes me feel needed, and the extra money doesn't hurt, either."

"Do you have any questions for me?"

"Yes, actually. Do you have any ideas where I can learn a little more about ... being a submissive?"

She reached inside her top drawer, pulled out a small pamphlet and handed it to Gayle. "First of all, there's really nothing to learn about Dominant/submissive. Being one or the other is a natural, innate characteristic in everyone, at least that's what I've observed. I was submissive myself until I got older and took on a more Dominant personality as my business grew. You and I being waitresses have something to do with us being submissive, in a sense. 

"The pamphlet has some information that will help you, along with more about the agency regarding what is expected of you. The only pre-requisite that's required of you is for you to attend one Black Rose meeting at The Crucible here in D.C. The address is in there. They have a meeting this Thursday at eight for newbies to give you the basics. Think you can you make that?"

She thought for a moment. "I can change my schedule, and I think a friend might be able to cover for me." 

"Perfect. Can you give me a call on Friday and let me know how it went?"

"Of course. It's not a problem."

"Excellent. Don't be nervous when you go and stay open-minded. You are not required to participate in any of the scenes -- as a matter of fact I would highly recommend you don't. If you have any problems I want you to see Pete Martin."

"Yes ma'am."

"Do you have a valid, current passport?" Gayle nodded. "Great. I don't mean to be insensitive, but with you being in the situation you're in with your mother, I wouldn't dream of giving you an assignment so far away from your family. But to be honest, positions overseas pay the most, and they're usually only three-month assignments. Is that something you would be willing to do?"

Gayle thought a moment. "Honestly, Mrs. Monroe, it depends on the pay."

"That's very understandable. Alright. I think I've got everything I need." She handed Gayle a business card. "Call me anytime if you think of any other concerns."             

THURSDAY, JUNE 6th, Washington, D.C.

The entrance to The Crucible was nothing more than a plain black door and awning with the name on it; beside was a garage door. Gayle looked at the piece of paper again to make sure she had the right address. It was.  

Just then a man pulling a medium-sized suitcase with a woman trailing a few feet behind him walked past her, chains clinking. The man had a long, braided pony-tail and wore a black leather vest with black jeans, while the woman wore a purple corset and black skirt. Just as the corseted woman opened the door for the man, Gayle saw the reason for the clinking noise -- she had a chain link secured to the ring of the collar around her neck. 

"Open the door for the woman, bitch," the man barked.

"Yes, Master." 

The woman smiled, unfazed at the derogatory name, opened the door and let Gayle walk through before the man did. She couldn't help but notice the woman's cleavage spilling out over the corset, but the morbid instrumental music coming from behind the curtained wall distracted her. She dreaded knowing what else came along with the gloomy music. Stepping to the small room on the left, she gave the woman at the booth her information and was allowed through.   


Aprons For Gayle Ch. 01



It was almost eight and much too early for the place to be crowded; bars and clubs in D.C. didn't get sardined until after ten. There were a few people standing at the bar, the rest were sitting at either the tables or couch areas that were scattered around the warehouse-style room. The women, and one man, were sitting at the feet of their Dominant, and frankly Gayle thought that looked pathetic. 

What immediately caught her attention were the different apparatuses on the longest wall. There were three crosses; a seated cross, its legs at an angle so that the legs would be spread wide; a horse like they use in gymnastics; and a bench with metal stirrups for the legs. In the far corner were a large dog cage; a tall, narrow cage; and a wooden stock. She couldn't imagine what would happen during the scenes using the equipment, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.    

The meeting room for the class was to the right, so she headed off in that direction.              She wasn't a shy person, but in this situation she was. She sat at the back of the room so as not to draw attention to herself and listened curiously, sometimes fearfully or disgustedly, but surprisingly with more than a little fascination.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     An hour and half later, her brain overloaded from too much information and seeing all of the toys used in BDSM, she was ready to go home. Knowing her role other than maid was to be a submissive, she wasn't sure if she could handle being bound to any of the equipment she'd seen, much less being beaten with the accessories. 

As she walked toward the door she heard a woman screaming in something similar to ecstasy but mixed with pain. She turned herself towards the sound. The woman that held the door open for her earlier was bound to a cross, facing away from the room, bent at the waist, her ass sticking out. Her master, as she'd called him, was flogging her with two floggers expertly; the impact alternated between each cheek.

Watching intently for a few minutes, she turned to leave when a man who'd been standing behind her blocked her exit. He was at least 6'5" with a wrestlers' body, a man she'd never want to meet in a dark alley late at night.

"Excuse me," she said with a forced smile, hoping to diffuse any cruel intentions he may be contemplating. 

"Leaving so soon?" he asked, instantly telling her that her instinct was correct. The smell of liquor on his breath washed over her nauseatingly.

"Yes," she replied and stepped beside him to leave.

He grabbed her by her arm and twirled her around hard, pulling her body dangerously close to his. "Why don't you let me show you how good it can feel to be under my control?"

Gayle jerked her arm back, ready to curse him out when he swiftly reached behind her and smacked her ass cheek hard. She was shocked into silence for a brief moment and pictured herself kicking him in his balls. Instead, she replied coldly, "I'd rather be stung by a million wasps than to submit to a bastard like you."

The man's face turned to pure evil as he narrowed his eyes on her. "You don't know what you're missing."

"She won't be missing much. Back off, Charlie." It was the man whose slave had opened the door for her, and he took a protective stance in front of Gayle.

"You can't tell me what to do, Martin."

"I am the owner of this place, and you are harassing my guest, not to mention breaking another rule by being drunk. Leave." Pete waved to someone to his right and a huge, body builder-type man stepped behind the insect ready to pounce if need be.

"I have no inten --" 

"You are banned, Charlie. Vic, escort him out." After the men walked away, Pete turned to Gayle and asked, "Are you alright?" His voice was much softer than it was when he'd spoken outside the club.                 

She stood frozen, body and mind. "I ... I'm ... I think so."

"I'm Pete Martin. Are you alright to drive home?" She looked around in a panic, almost as if she didn't know where she was. "Come and sit for a few minutes," he suggested. "Would you like some water?"

She nodded and followed him to the bar but didn't sit. Taking a few sips of the bottled water she thanked him for coming to her aid. 

"You're welcome. What's your name?" When she told him his eyebrow rose. "Ah. I knew it was your first visit when I first saw you. I can spot someone new from their wide-opened doe eyes filled with fear. Peggy Monroe asked me to keep an eye on a newbie that was coming in. But I keep an eye out for everyone." 

She nodded. "Thanks again. I'm okay now."

"Well, I do have to get back to my slave. Drive home safely."

She watched him walk away and instantly knew she was done with the whole scene and would not pursue any further assignments with Discrete Services Agency. That decided, she lifted her head, squared her shoulders and walked confidently out of the door.

FRIDAY, JUNE 7th; Gaithersburg, Maryland

Gayle had just gotten home from the morning shift and was heading to the shower when her phone rang. It was Mrs. Monroe.

"Hi, Gayle. Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Yes, sure. I was just about to call you," she lied as she threw herself on her bed. 

"How did it go last night?"

"The class was very helpful, an eye-opener, really. It wasn't what I was expecting at all." She didn't want to go into any details about the creep Charlie because it was over and done with as far as she was concerned. 

"Pete said you got into a little scuffle, but you handled yourself impeccably."

"I was about to kick him in the balls before Pete stopped me." Gayle laughed. "Well, I wouldn't have, but I thought about it. I hope it wasn't a problem."

"Not at all. Just because one is submissive gives no one the right to treat them as a doormat. Listen, I spoke with a client yesterday who is looking for a maid for six months. He owns a small castle outside of St. Andrews in Scotland."

"A castle?" Gayle gulped. "Scotland?" 

She tried to comprehend the word 'castle.' All she pictured was Downtown Abby. Mrs. Monroe can't expect me to clean a 20-room mansion! she thought.

"It's only four-bedrooms, two living rooms and a den; easy for one person to manage."

"Hmm. Okay. When is he looking for someone?"

"Saturday, August 3rd, and it will end February 1st. I've checked your references, and they were excellent. I have a reputation to uphold with my clients and my business, and if I didn't think you were perfect for this particular client I wouldn't have suggested you to him."

Gayle didn't know how to respond.

"Let's get down to your salary, Gayle. My client is willing to pay $55,000 US dollars for your services, plus medical expenses. He's looking for regular house cleaning, and the only cooking would be on the weekend; he already has a cook during the week for evening meals. He may also require your attendance at any social engagements that might come up. There will also be ... special requirements, but that will be discussed at a later time."

Aside from Gayle's mouth dropping at the mention of the salary, she also noticed the change in Mrs. Monroe's tone at the mention of 'special requirements.' 

The salary was more than enough money to pay for Cherrydale as well as some medical expenses and every other bill that had been neglected. Her father would be thrilled, but would he be willing to let her go? 

"If I say yes, what happens then?" she heard herself ask.

"He'll be in Washington on June 21st for a business meeting. I don't know his exact schedule just yet, but he could let me know when and where to meet you. I will pass the information on to you. He will explain his exact expectations at that time. There is no obligation to you, and you don't have to give him an answer the same day."

Thinking quickly, she sighed as she realized the easy part would be giving her two-week's notices. The hard part was the need to leave her family. 

Without consideration to her father or Catelyn, she knew she really had no other option. It wouldn't hurt if she simply met with the man, though she got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she hadn't been joking when she mentioned the sex slave bit to her sister at breakfast that morning. 

"Mrs. Monroe, tell him I will meet with him."

MONDAY, JUNE 24th, Tysons Corner, Virginia

Gayle waited anxiously at the bar of Capital Grille and sipped a glass of wine in hopes it would calm her nerves as she waited for Hamish. She had a good view of the entrance door where the hostess's station was, so when her potential employer walked in she would see him right away. 

With it being the lunch rush, it was packed with diners, and the problem was she had no idea what he looked like; neither did he know about her. Gayle offered to send her a picture of herself so he would know who he was looking for, but Mrs. Monroe insisted that she simply wear a red blouse, black skirt and black heels. 

Her first thought was, Good luck finding me, buddy. Half of the women in Washington, D.C. wear that color combination.

But when Mrs. Monroe said Gayle had to wear a scarf of the McDougal tartan colors she instantly relaxed. When she saw the colors she instantly knew why he'd chosen red for her blouse. The background was mostly red with thin green lines and diagonal white lines; the edges were green with the same sized white lines. 

Five minutes before the allotted meeting time, she was talking to the bartender about the electrical thunder storm the night before when she saw a man standing beside her through the mirror behind the bar. The first thing she noticed about the man was that he appeared to be well over six feet tall. The second thing was his ginger-colored hair that was naturally wavy.

As she turned around on her stool, he extended his hand to her and said, "Ms. Boyce, I am Hamish McDougal. Call me Mr. McDougal." 

His accent was extremely thick, and she wasn't sure she caught his name correctly. The only Hamish she'd ever heard of was William Wallace's best friend in the film 'Braveheart.' 

When she realized that she was to address him formally she put on her strict, professional, 'I'm about to be interviewed and better make a good impression' metaphorical hat. She smiled, albeit nervously and shook his hand; her own hand was swallowed up by his big, strong one. 

"I am pleased you were able to find my family's tartan colors," he said, though he had yet to smile. 

She was surprised at how soft-spoken he was, though his voice was deep. Her impressions of Scots were that they were always drunk on whisky, chasing women when they're wearing their kilts -- and nothing underneath -- and being loud and boisterous. He rolled his r's, which was a little sexy to her; she wondered if they were good kissers, too, not that she wanted to find out immediately.  

"I was lucky, actually. I got the last one at the Celtic store in Old Town, Alexandria. I loved the patterns of the different families' colors. I hadn't realized how many there were." She closed her lips tightly to keep from rambling on.

Without replying, he stepped back and looked her over from head to toe. With her sitting on the stool and his own height, he estimated she was about 5'8," maybe an inch shorter. He liked her curly, light-brown hair that cascaded just past her shoulder blades, though would have preferred it a little shorter and straighter. Her complexion was fair, and her make-up was light and natural, thankfully not overly done or trashy. Her eyes were big and beautiful; the steel gray color seemed to look right through him. As his eyes trailed down her chest, he appreciated the fullness and roundness of her ample bosom.

"Go to the ladies room, remove your panties and put them in your purse," he instructed abruptly.

"Ex ... excuse me?" she asked in shock.

"I need to be sure you are capable of following all of my instructions." He'd emphasized the word 'all.'

She narrowed her eyes at him and was about to tell him to piss off when she thought better of it. She had been given a blessing, though it was in disguise. 

Sighing, she grabbed her purse, went to the bathroom, removed her red, lacy boy shorts and stuffed them in her purse then covered them with her wallet. Stepping outside, Hamish had been waiting for her by the door. 

"Show me," he ordered brusquely.

Her eyes flew open. She wasn't about to lift her skirt to show him she had complied.

"I was referring to your hand bag, Ms. Boyce," he sighed. 

She blushed wildly, relieved and opened her purse just enough so he could see. 

"Very good. Follow me. Our table is ready."

"Great. I have to pay for my wine, though." 

Hamish scoffed loudly and shook his head. "I've already paid for it."

"Oh, thanks."

After she blushed again in embarrassment they followed the hostess to their table, all the while Hamish's hand in the small of her back. Her initial thought was how possessive he was; she wasn't sure how to take it. 

The table was somewhat separate from the others, not that it mattered to her. Gayle preferred to sit in the booth and was just about to step beside the table when Hamish pulled out the chair and looked at her expectantly. Without objection, she sat down then he pushed her chair up a little before sitting in the booth across from her. Only then did she see his briefcase, which he placed beside him.

The hostess then placed a black linen napkin on her lap then did the same to Hamish. He seemed to tense at the invasion of his space but quickly hid his discomfort. 

Once they were seated, Gayle was able to look over his face more closely. He had a full, round face with bright rosy cheeks, and his face was covered with a thin, neatly shaven beard and mustache. His eyes were a pretty cornflower blue. 

After the hostess left, Hamish opened the menu, looked over it quickly then asked, "Have you eaten here before? It comes highly recommended."

"No, I haven't, but it's rated as one of the best steak restaurants in the area," Gayle answered. "I've always wanted to try the steak, but --"

The waiter approached and asked what they'd like to drink. 

Hamish replied, "Do you have Glenfiddich Scotch Whisky?"

"We do."

"That'll be fine. Neat." 

Hamish turned to Gayle, who looked at the waiter. "Iced tea, please."

"Alright. Do you need a moment to decide?" the waiter asked.

"Please," Hamish replied. Turning to Gayle, he commented, "You may have a starter if you'd like." 

"I would, thanks. I'd love the French onion soup." He nodded. "Did you have a good flight over?" 

"I did, thank you." He then turned his attention back to the menu.

She sat waiting for him to elaborate, but he never did. Not being in the mood to play twenty questions, she looked over the menu for a few minutes. Hamish was still looking over his so she looked around the room, and when she saw the moose head hanging on the wall over another table she wondered if it was real or not.

The waiter returned with their drinks and a basket of bread and wafers. "Have you decided what you'd like to order?"

Hamish replied, "I'd like the fried calamari, please, and the lady will have the shrimp cocktail." 

Just as the waiter began to write, Gayle interrupted, "Actually, I'm allergic to shellfish." She was shocked he didn't order the soup, especially after she'd already told him. "I'd like the French onion soup, please."

The waiter was about to turn around to leave when Hamish said tersely, "For myself I'd like the mini-tenderloin sandwiches, well-done, Wedge salad, no dressing and green beans. The lady will have the Lobster roll." 

"Wait. What?" Gayle spoke a bit louder than she meant to. Lowering her voice, she said, "Lobster is shellfish, Ham ... Mr. McDougal." She felt like an idiot for even having to point that out to him.

She was already a little angry when he'd ordered her appetizer, but now that he'd ordered the entree she was livid. He was rude, domineering, controlling and had the conversational skill of a Great White shark. 

She thought of one way to get back at him. She heard Scots were well-known for being frugal with their money; more than frugal, actually. Gayle had never had filet mignon before simply because it was so expensive. But at that point she didn't give a rat's ass whether he could or could not afford it. 

Looking at the waiter, she said, "I'd like the filet mignon, medium, the mashed potatoes and garden salad with Raspberry vinaigrette." 

As soon as the waiter walked away she felt guilty for overreacting. She didn't know this man, and he might have just been using the proper Scottish etiquette that Americans have lost.

As Gayle buttered a piece of bread and took a bite, Hamish sipped his whisky then sat staring at Gayle for several minutes. 

Inwardly Hamish was extremely pleased with Mrs. Monroe's choice. She had already passed his tests of the scarf and outfit as well as discarding her panties. He wanted to test her resourcefulness and obedience to him. This third test with ordering something he knew full well she couldn't eat and her standing up for herself was another pass.

Since Hamish wasn't a very good talker, Gayle's mind was elsewhere, as she so wanted to be home with her mother. She had woken up in good spirits and seemed to be aware of her surroundings for a change, though she still required help to go to the bathroom or change clothes.

"Ms. Boyce, I asked you a question." 

Gayle glanced at Hamish. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of ... what did you say?" She didn't want to get too personal with him, especially about her mother.

"I asked why I should hire you." His voice was a little harsh and impatient.

The waiter came with the appetizers, and before she answered she had a couple of spoonfuls of soup while Hamish practically inhaled the calamari. 

"Um, well, to be honest, Mr. McDougal, I agreed to meet with you because ..." She rattled on about her mother's condition and the urgency of needing the money right away.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ms. Boyce. My father had been ill before he passed away, so I understand your situation."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Dad is taking it very hard, and so is my sister."

"And you?"

"I'm doing the best I can. I'm a Scorpio. We can go through hell and bounce right back."

He smiled for the first time. "It's honorable of you to help your family." 

The more he got to know her the more he liked her. She was strong, loyal to her family and wouldn't put up with his sometimes-demanding, thoughtless personality.

"It boils down to the need for money, and I'd never make as much money in a year as I would if I worked for you. It's ... generous of you."

Something then came to her. "Mr. McDougal, Mrs. Monroe mentioned something about 'special requirements' of yours. What was she referring to?" She didn't really want to know, but she had to before she accepted anything.

"I was wondering when you would bring that up. I don't mean to be crass, but are you a virgin?"

She had just put the spoon in her mouth and almost choked. After taking a sip of the tea she replied, "That's as crass as anyone can be."

Unmoved, he said, "You will tend to my needs ... in the bedroom."

"I knew it. I figured it was something like that."

"You didn't answer my question," Hamish pointed out.

Gayle narrowed her eyes at him. "No. Can I ask, Mr. McDougal, just how big is your dick?" 

She might not have choked on her tea, but Hamish had just sipped his whisky when she asked the question. A line of the liquid escaped the corner of his mouth. He shook his head, wiped his mouth with the napkin and put it back in his lap. Then he laughed. 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 01



"Whether you realize it or not, I think we will work well together."

"Professionally or sexually?" She had pretty much made up her mind to decline the offer and was just giving him a hard time.

"Both. You get what you need, and I get what I need."

"You didn't warn me you'd say something else crass," she stated, pushing her soup bowl away. She'd instantly lost her appetite. 

He scoffed at her, unlocked his briefcase, pulled out a manila folder and handed it to her. "Now that we've gotten the worst condition out of the way, apparently -- though I've had no complaints in that department -- these are my basic terms and conditions." 

Aside from his words, with him talking more and a bit faster than he had been, she found it a little difficult to understand him with his accent. She took the folder and opened it to the contract inside. 

"You don't have to give me an answer until Thursday night. I'll be leaving for home early Friday morning. If you do agree I'll need to know how to make the cheque out so you can have your mum placed before you fly over."

Turning her attention to the papers, she read it carefully.

1) Contract period will be Saturday, August 3rd, 2013 to Saturday, February 1st, 2014. All flight arrangements to and from Scotland will be paid for.

2) The salary will be $55,000.00 US dollars, to be paid as follows:

a. $20,000.00 in advance. This will be used to pay the nursing home for the treatment required during the period of the contract. Cheque to be made payable directly to said nursing home;

b. A sum of $3,000.00 per month in arrears directly to the bank account of Ms. Gayle Boyce;

c. The balance of $17,000 on completion of the contract;

NOTE: No final balance is payable in the event of the contract being terminated early by Ms. Boyce. A pro rata payment will be made if the contract is terminated by the employer.

3) A minimum period of two months must be served.

4) Hamish McDougal guarantees Ms. Boyce's safety and well-being at all times. She will be provided all necessities to make her comfortable, including meals and accommodation. Medical care is provided by his personal physician. It is her responsibility to inform him if she is not well.

5) Ms. Boyce will be in Mr. McDougal's employ as his housemaid and at his service as he sees fit. There will be no compromising in regards to his needs. 

6) Work hours will be Monday thru Friday, 7:00 - 4:00 (see clarification below) with one afternoon/evening off every other week. Each evening Ms. Boyce will be available to serve Mr. McDougal as he requires.

7) Ms. Boyce will be provided a small weekly allowance of 50 GBP to use as she wishes.

8) Proper respect will be shown at all times, not only to Mr. McDougal but to any visitors that may arrive. She will address him as Sir and nothing else. 

9) Ms. Boyce will pack only the following and nothing more:

a. Two personal items of her choice;

b. Minimal make-up, yet appropriate for formal occasions; 

c. Passport and driver's license;

d. Any necessary medications including contraception; and

e. No clothing except for a heavy coat for the return trip. 

10) Meals: 

a. Daily, Ms. Boyce is responsible for preparing and serving Mr. McDougal's breakfast promptly at 7:30am in the kitchen, unless otherwise specified. 

b. Lunch break at 12:30 for thirty minutes; 

c. Weeknight dinners will be prepared by Mr. McDougal's cook and served by Ms. Boyce promptly at 7pm. On the weekends Ms. Boyce will prepare and serve all meals. If guests are visiting Ms. Boyce will prepare and serve meals as well unless otherwise indicated. 

11) Ms. Boyce will be provided appropriate uniforms to perform each of her duties. These are to be worn at all times excepting the free fortnightly period.

12) Ms. Boyce will be required to attend any special event as the need arises. She will either be presented with the proper attire or taken clothes shopping as Mr. McDougal requires. 

13) Ms. Boyce may contact her family twice a week at a preset time. There will be no Christmas holiday.

14) At any time a family emergency arises, this contract will be suspended by mutual agreement only. The time away from Mr. McDougal's service will be completed as soon as all matters are resolved. 

15) Ms. Boyce will provide documented medical proof that she is medically fit to fulfill her duties as well as being drug and disease free.

16) Punishments: A degree of leniency will be shown for the first two weeks while Ms. Boyce adjusts to the demands of the position. After that initial period, any punishment that is earned will be carried out every Friday evening after the evening meal.

The nature of the punishment is at the discretion of Mr. McDougal, and his say is final.

17) Before Ms. Boyce's arrival in Scotland, she will be completely shaven from the neck down and will be expected to remain bare for the entire duration of her obligation. She will be examined daily by Mr. McDougal to ensure she complies. Stubble is strictly forbidden.

18) Ms. Boyce will make herself available to Mr. McDougal at all times for his sexual pleasure. She will refrain from all form of masturbation and is not permitted to orgasm at any time without his permission. 

19) Ms. Boyce's hard limits are to be mutually agreed upon prior to commencement of employment. They will be reviewed on a monthly basis.

A word chosen by Ms. Boyce will be used as the safe word. On hearing this, all activity will immediately cease and the cause of the stoppage ascertained. If she is not in a position to speak, an alternative safe signal will be provided. These safety measures are not to be abused.

During punishments the safe word may be used but correction will only be temporarily halted until Ms. Boyce is able to continue. She will not be punished twice for the same offence. However, repeated similar transgressions will mean an increase in the punishment severity.

20) Ms. Boyce will be polite and respectful to Mr. McDougal and his guests at all times. Displays of continual disrespect, arguing, shouting, rudeness, etc. are deemed sackable offences with immediate termination of the contract. 

Gayle laughed after the waiter brought their entrees then left. 

"I don't recall anything humorous in that contract, Ms. Boyce." 

"Is this for real, Hamish?" she asked, not caring about his wish to address him as Mr. McDougal. He was far from it, actually. "Aside from the coitus bit, this reads as if you are looking for a slave, not a maid." 

Hamish's right eyebrow rose curiously. "It is simply a business arrangement. You are familiar with the Dominant and submissive lifestyle, I see."

She blushed when she thought his voice was a little too loud. "Yes. I may be young but I wasn't born under a rock." She didn't find it necessary to tell him about her hasty immersion into the lifestyle. She handed the pamphlet back. "I cannot accept this. I will be no one's slut."

"If that is your wish, Ms. Boyce." He bit into one of his steak burgers as if she had suddenly vanished into thin air.

She was beyond livid, and her eyes filled with moisture. Desperate for a minute alone, she threw her napkin beside the plate and stood up. "I'm going to the restroom, if you feel so inclined to grant me the honor," she said, using as much sarcasm as she could. 

She dared him to say no, and when he didn't say anything she smiled triumphantly and walked away. 

Locking the stall door, she would have screamed if she weren't in a public place. The gall of that damned Scot! Who in the hell does he think he is? she cursed to herself.

Being alone, she huffed, "No. No. I'm not a whore! Not seeing my family for Christmas? I can't do that!" Banging her head on the cubicle wall, she muttered, "$55,000. $55,000 for six months!" 

Taking several deep breaths, she sighed heavily, angry at herself for even applying to the agency and went back out to the table.

Apparently her little outburst hadn't ruined his appetite; he had finished the mini-sandwiches and was eating the green beans. "Do you feel better?" he asked nonchalantly as she sat down. 

She only narrowed her eyes at him. 

He put his fork down, sipped his whisky, entwined his fingers and said, "I may have gone about this all wrong. I was expecting a 'no' once the contract was read but not your reaction."

When she didn't say anything he continued. "I am a financial advisor and work very hard. I also play very hard. I don't have the time or the desire to keep my home in order, thus my search for a house maid."

"Pffft, a prostitute, you mean," she said curtly.

He leaned back. "Fair comment, Ms. Boyce. For the money I am paying I require more than just a maid. But know this: While the sex will be a somewhat small part of the agreement, it is still a requirement I cannot nor will not negotiate on. But it seems you've already made your decision."

She didn't reply but forced herself to eat, though it had become tasteless. After she'd taken a few bites of the steak, she said, "It's a good thing you're a financial advisor. Your sales pitch needs some drastic work."

Gayle was shocked when she saw Hamish crack another small smile. He loved her feistiness and attempting to put him in his place, not that it worked.

"As I said," he said sarcastically, "I'll need your answer by Thursday evening." He handed her the business card of the hotel he was staying at. "Meet me in the bar area at 8:30. I'll expect your official answer by then."

He handed the pamphlet back to her. "Please consider all of the conditions carefully in the meantime. Once you accept the cheque you may not back out."

"And if you aren't happy with ... my services?"

He smirked; he was happy she hadn't shut him out completely just yet. "Then I shall have to retrain you to my standards, however many times that takes. And if you are referring to satisfying me sexually, I will tell you how to ... please me." Gayle squirmed in her chair just as the waiter came to the table. "Is everything alright with your meal?" he asked, looking at the amount that remained on her plate.

"Yes, yes indeed," Hamish replied. 

""Would you like a box to take the rest home with you?" the waiter asked Gayle.

She hesitated a moment in case Hamish decided to answer for her again. When he didn't, she replied, "Yes, please. Thank you." Her father would enjoy the steak for his evening meal. 

"Would you like some coffee?" the waiter asked.

"I would love some, but I must get back home." 

That wasn't the complete truth. She really didn't have to rush out, but with all that they'd talked about she was so overwhelmed she needed to set her head straight before she started her night shift. 

After the waiter took their plates and left, Gayle leaned in. "I have my own conditions, Mr. McDougal."

His right eyebrow rose curiously. "And what might they be?"

She hadn't really expected him to allow her any conditions, so she didn't have an answer for him. Instead of looking like she was backing down, she said, "I will prepare them and give them to you Thursday."

He smirked again. "Right, then," he replied then finished his whisky. "I will see you on Thursday evening. And do not be late." 

THURSDAY, JUNE 27th, 8:29 p.m.; Bar at the Ritz Carlton, Tysons Corner, Virginia

Gayle walked confidently toward the table where she'd seen Hamish sitting close to the bar. With both hands he was holding a half-full glass of dark liquor, whisky she assumed. 

"Evening, Sir," Gayle said as she reached the table. Her voice was soft, though there was a bit of sarcasm to the word 'sir.'

The expression on his face had been harsh and tense, but when he looked up from his drink his eyes brightened, and he smiled warmly. He was a little disappointed she'd worn jeans and a simple blouse, but then again he hadn't told her what to wear. He didn't care what she wore. He wanted an answer, a positive one at that.

"Ms. Boyce." Looking at his watch, he added, "Punctual. Thank you." He stood up, pulled out the chair across from him then sat down. After he sat back down he asked, "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thanks."

"I see by the title you used that you've accepted the position."

"Yes, I have." Handing him the pamphlet, she said, "I've made a few additions to your terms. I have no idea what your ... intentions are of me, so I added my hard limits."

"Well, let's see what they are." Hamish opened it and looked over her comments. "Hard limits: No whips. No permanent damage to or breaking of your skin. I can't make any promises there." He smiled wickedly then shook his head.

"I agree with no tattooing, piercing or body alternations, no bestiality, no scat or water sports. What sorts of humiliation are off limits?"

"Any type of public nudity and verbal degradation or abuse." 

"Agreed." He continued to read them off. "No face slapping? I quite like a bit of cheek tapping. Would you deny me that?" 

She thought a moment. "No."

Continuing to read, he agreed to no choking or air play, as well as no blood exchange. "So, everything else not mentioned here are soft limits?"

"I would like to discuss it before hand, but yes." Then she handed him several pages in a binder clip. "That's all the information you'll need for Cherrydale. The contract with them is for a year. My father called them and they do have a room available. The cost is in there and whom to make it out to."

"Who," Hamish corrected. 

"Whatever." Gayle rolled her eyes. 

He slipped his hand inside his business jacket and pulled out a pen and checkbook. She watched nervously as he filled out the cheque with the neatest handwriting she'd ever seen a man use. He filled in a few blank spaces on the paper from the facility, pulled the carbon sheet out for himself and handed them back to her. He initialed over her additions on the contract, signed it with the date and his name. He handed the contract to her for her signatures.         

"Thank you, Ms. Boyce. Let me go to the desk to get a copy made for you."

As he walked out of the bar, Hamish was smiling from ear to ear. While he waited for the copy, he stood hidden behind the bar door and watched his future employee. She ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. He knew what she was thinking. He wanted her to stay uneasy; always be on edge as to what he'd do to her.

He was called when the print was ready then returned to the table. Handing her the copy, he said, "I look forward to our business arrangement, Ms. Boyce." 

Gayle didn't quite feel the same.



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 02



CHAPTER TWO

FRIDAY, AUGUST 2nd, 2013, 7:06 p.m.; BWI AIRPORT, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

Gayle finally got settled in the economy section of the Virgin Airlines 747 and stared out the window watching men carelessly throw passenger's luggage onto the conveyor belt leading to the bowels of the plane.

They would be arriving at Edinburgh, Scotland at 6:35 the next morning, and she knew it was going to be a long night. She hoped she'd be able to sleep because she wanted to be sharp and rested when she arrived. 

Hamish had instructed her to wear his favorite outfit, apparently: a low-cut blouse, black mini-skirt and four-inch heels, no bra nor panties. The first thirty minutes walking around the airport was fine, but after that her feet were killing her. She'd thought about defying his order by wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and sneakers. But not knowing what her punishments would be she wasn't willing to take the chance.

She watched the route of the plane from the screen secured to the seat in front of her. They flew up north over the coastline, into Canada then east over Newfoundland. All she could really see was the vastness of green in several different shades. When they were over water it was nothing but desolate blue.

So she stared out of the window at the clouds below her, and the sky changed from a light blue to yellow, orange, red then a deeper red. The cloud cover was even more beautiful. They were whiter than she'd ever seen at home and so billowy they looked like huge cotton balls. She wondered if this is what heaven was like.

Then she wondered what she would do with herself on her afternoons off or whatever else Hamish had in store for her. 

Then she slept for a few hours but was hardly restful. She simply worried some more.

Before she realized it, the captain made an announcement that they were flying over the Emerald Isle; the temperature in Edinburgh was 61degrees; rising sun with clear skies; and an arrival time of an hour. The time on the screen said that would be 6:30, five minutes early. 

Butterflies violently erupted in her stomach. She was tempted to start biting her fingernails, but Hamish had instructed her to get a manicure and pedicure. She did have them done but wasn't about to mess them up and start her first day off with an immediate punishment. 

Right on time the plane landed on the tarmac. She was now officially a foreigner and a minority, something she found hard to comprehend. Procrastinating as long as she could, she sat in her seat and watched everyone else exit the plane. When her time had run out, she sighed heavily and said a little prayer for strength to make it back home in one piece.

After she went through customs, which took an hour of standing, she limped out into the huge terminal looking for a man holding a sign with her name on it, as pre-planned by Hamish. It didn't take her long to see her name in big, bold letters being held over a tall, thin man, probably in his early 50s, she ascertained. 

She walked up to him, forced a smile and said tentatively, "Hi. I'm Gayle Boyce."

"Well, hello. I'm David Hodges, your driver for the day." His accent was much thicker than Hamish's, and he spoke much faster, but she could still understand him. 

"It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Let me take that bag for you," he said, holding out his arm.

"Thank you."

As they walked the terminal for the exit David was quiet. She just assumed Hamish was as strict with his other employees as he was with her. After standing in customs for so long and the ten minute walk, her feet were beginning to scream at her. 

What made it worse was the fact that the blouse was thin, and it was difficult walking in the heels without her breasts bouncing up and down or swaying back and forth. One thing she was surprised about was the fact that her nipples were erect. It wasn't excitement over seeing Hamish, far from it, actually, but it was the way the material brushed against them that brought them to attention.

Looking around while walking behind David, she suddenly bumped into his now stationary figure; he had stopped without warning. Then she saw they were at the car, and she was disappointed not to see Hamish. She thought he would at least have the common courtesy to meet her at the airport.

David opened the boot, put her small suitcase in the back then slammed it shut, staying where he was. Gayle waited by the back door, wondering if she should wait for David to open it for her. She lifted each leg to alleviate the pain, but it did little to help. 

A moment later the rear passenger side of the car opened and Hamish stood up, turned and looked at her before walking around the back and stopping next to David. They mumbled something between them, but she couldn't hear what they said.

She noticed Hamish had gotten his hair trimmed, and his beard was still neatly shaven. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt with an Argyle jacket and blue jeans, a far cry from his stiff-upper-lip attire in Virginia. Of course a man in a business suit can be sexy, but she had to admit he was easy to look at. 

"It's lovely to see you again, Ms. Boyce," Hamish greeted with a small smile. 

"Sir," she replied anxiously. 

What made her instantly nervous and tense up was the fact that he slowly looked her up and down scrutinizing her before his eyes settled on the almond-sized nubs poking through the blouse. His smile grew. She pushed her shoulders inward in a poor attempt to hide her tittie hard-ons, not just from him but from David. 

Hamish shook his head and tsk'd, lost his smile then grabbed her shoulders, pushing them back slightly. "None of that while you are in my employ. Let's get going," he said, stretching his arm out toward the back car door. "We have an hour's drive ahead of us." 

As Hamish opened the back door she saw David walk to the passenger side and sit in the front. She was surprised Hamish would be driving and she'd be left alone in the back. Why did David even come? she wondered.

Gayle then hesitated because she wasn't sure how she was going to sit and scoot over without showing her crotch to her boss. She was sure Hamish was hoping for a peek. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down her skirt as far as it would go before slipping onto the seat; she kept her knees locked the entire way.

Looking in the front seat, she saw David put his hands on the steering wheel in front of her. She laughed to herself when she forgot Americans drive on the right while Brits drive on the left.

After Hamish sat beside her and closed the door, Gayle was afraid to say anything. It wasn't that she didn't want to. She just didn't know if Hamish would allow it. 

As the car pulled away from the curb and out into traffic Hamish asked, "Did you have a good flight?"

She'd remembered his short answer to her question once before and wanted to reply just a curtly as he had, but that really wasn't who she was. 

"I guess so. It felt longer than a six-hour flight, though. The food sucked, one woman chatted non-stop with her friend, and the old woman beside me kept farting."

Hamish chuckled. "Sorry to hear that. But I think you are forgetting something."

She thought a moment. "Oh, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." "Better." 

Staring out the window, the landscape whizzed by in a blur. Her swollen and aching feet began to aggravate her. She wanted to slip off the heels but hesitated. The time for her complete submission was upon her, and she was willing to play the game. 

Not thinking it would hurt, she asked, "Sir, all the walking and standing has really hurt my feet. May I take my heels off?"

He looked over her face. "Of course, and I am glad you asked because your welfare is of paramount concern to me. You will allow me to massage them for you."

Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him. Is that a question or a statement, Hamish? she asked herself. "I don't like my feet messed with, Sir. I'm very ticklish. I almost kicked the lady doing my pedicure."

"That will be an excellent punishment, then, I should think."

Her heart sank. She was giving up her weaknesses to be used against her later. She'd have to learn to keep her mouth shut. 

"Yes Sir." Slipping off her heels, she sighed softly. "Thank you, Sir."

He turned his body to face her then patted his knee. She mimicked his posture, leaned her back against the door and gently placed both feet on his knee. Watching him carefully as he massaged her feet, she soon found herself moaning from the loosening muscles. She put her head back against the window and closed her eyes. She wondered why she argued with him in the first place. The man was amazing with his fingers.

"Hmm. That feels nice, Sir. My feet are no longer on any limit list," Gayle mumbled.

Hamish chuckled. "You're easy to please, I see," he commented as he continued to manipulate near the base of her toes. 

Five minutes later she groaned louder and picked her head up. "Sir, they're better. Thank you very much."

He smiled at her and tapped the bottom of her foot. She put her feet down on the floor and sat back in the seat, though he stayed in the same position. 

"Are you still hungry after the horrible grub on the plane?"

"Yes Sir, if it's not a bother."

"I've asked Mrs. Harrower to make us brunch. You will meet her tomorrow morning. She will be making breakfast for us then. I was thinking after we eat we could take a walk around the lake. Then I'll show you around my home, if you're still awake, that is." 

"Yes Sir. I'd like that. Dad said I should stay awake as long as I can. We have a bet I'll be asleep by six."

He loved that she was a betting woman. "How has your mum settled into the facility?"

The mention of her mother made her remember something. "Sir, I promised Dad I'd call when I got in."

"I was going to insist you did."

"Thank you, Sir. We got her in July 7th. She was confused as to where she was at first, but with therapy and a change in her meds she's a little more responsive than she was before, but not much."

"That's fantastic news, really."

She nodded. "Sir, I don't think I've properly thanked you for --"

"Gayle, there's no need for that."

She was taken aback that he'd called her Gayle. She'd wondered when or if he'd ever call her by her first name. Maybe his wall is coming down, she thought hopefully.

"Ms. Boyce," he started. 

So much for the wall, she thought.

"I will be honest with you. When I told you at lunch I'd lost my father that was the truth. What I didn't mention is that I will lose my birth-right as first-born to inherit my family's castle and land if I do not marry in a year, my 30th birthday."

"Mr. McDougal, Sir, I don't ... I can't be ... I will not be your wife." 

"Ms. Boyce, I wouldn't consider asking you to be my wife. I simply need my house kept in order until I find one ... one that is ...suitable."

Gayle was very confused over his reasoning. "May I ask something, Sir?" He nodded. "Why didn't you just hire a maid locally?"

"I am very ... particular. The agency came with a referral, and I don't have the time to flaff around looking for a submissive housemaid." 

It made sense to Gayle, except the 'flaff' part. One question remained. "Then why have sex with me?"

He scowled at her. "First of all, you have two punishments coming to you. Secondly, I do not have to explain myself 

"What? Sir, I --" She wracked her brain trying to think of what she'd said that made him angry or what she'd done wrong. Then she realized she hadn't used his title.

"As you know, I will be somewhat lenient with you on your punishments your first few weeks. But something as simple as not addressing me as I asked, well, I didn't think that would have been that difficult, and it is not acceptable. And I believe what you're asking is why have sex with you if I'm looking for a wife? Am I correct?"

She nodded, though sorry she even brought it up. 

"I don't believe I owe you an explanation." Hamish didn't allow her to respond and handed her his cell phone. "Call your father. Let him know you got in safely." 

"Thank you, Sir."

The phone call was short and sweet, ending with a promise to email with more details in a few days, if she was allowed that kindness. Talking with her Dad had made her grow sullen, and she stared out the window, as did Hamish. 

Aside from the fact that it was incomprehensible to be riding on the 'wrong side of the road,' there was nothing but fields upon fields of farmland alongside the M90. It was the same after they took the roundabout to the A92 in Dunfermline. 

She tried to wrap her head around that confusing, multi-lane roundabout. She'd seen the sign for St. Andrews, and the directional arrow pointed to the left. But the car turned right as it entered the roundabout to the inside of the three lanes then merged outward before they took the exit. There were roundabouts in residential areas at home, but one lane, not three. She was just waiting to bounce off another car.

Hamish's cell phone rang, and he talked most of the way. She was thankful for the lack of conversation; it allowed her to see the scenery change. Unfortunately, it didn't change at all, really, not until they'd been on the A92 for quite a while. There were fewer fields and more trees, though it wasn't the rolling hills she had hoped. Occasionally they'd pass a pub, and to her it seemed like it was hundreds of years old, much older than anything she'd seen in the States. 

The A914 was much like the back roads she'd driven at home, but the farmlands had returned in plenty. They took another exit but she didn't even bother looking for the route number. Her eyes were becoming heavier and heavier with the soft, steady humming of Hamish's voice, slowly lulling her to sleep. She shifted positions a few times to keep herself awake which never worked.

"Ms. Boyce," Hamish spoke, waking Gayle up in an instant. "We're here."

"Wha'? Oh. Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to fall asleep," she mumbled as she sat up. 

She was suddenly aware her legs had parted, and the skirt had slipped up to the very top of her thighs. She tugged at it until she heard him moan. She looked at him shyly.

"You Americans are such prudes. You won't have to worry about that in my home."

"I'm not a prude, Sir." She wasn't awake enough to let his second comment sink in and question him.

He was looking at her with an amused expression. "You snore."

She smiled shyly. "Sorry, Sir."

"It's quite alright. I've been known to wake the dead."

Gayle smiled just as the car stopped. Looking out of the window, the gate at the end of the driveway slowly opened. As they drove through she saw an old stone plaque that read 'Duncanstone.'

She was about to ask when the scenery caught her attention. The graveled road was outlined with tall, lush trees, and the angle of the rising sun cast the road in an eerie shadow. Past the trees were the rolling hills she'd hoped to see with about two dozen sheep munching on the grass. 

"Wow. This is breathtaking."

"It is. And that's three."

She swallowed hard. Looking at him, she said, "Well, Sir, that's normal for me. I do everything in threes."

He smirked wickedly, his left eyebrow rising. "You do everything in threes?" His tone rose when he repeated 'everything.'

She blushed then giggled like an idiot. Exhaustion was definitely setting in. "Almost everything, Sir." 

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Lass, I will have you cum so many times you will lose count ... eventually."

Yeah, you're pretty sure about that, aren't you, you pompous dickhead, she thought and stared out the window again.

They crossed a small, narrow stone bridge. "The creek leads to the lake on your side, the other to the North Sea."

"North Sea, Sir?" She looked at him expectantly. "How far are we from there?"

"About a fifteen minute drive. Why?"

She smiled and made her face as charmingly adorable as she could. "Sir, you've talked of punishments. Do I get any rewards?"

"Do you think by batting your eyelashes and giving me that look that I'd cave in and allow rewards?" 

"Well, Sir, I was hoping it would work. It's just I've swum ... swam, whatever, in the Caribbean, Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific, so it would be cool if I could dip my toes in the North Sea while I'm here, Sir."

"I'll take it into consideration."

"Thank you, Sir."

As she looked out of the window again, and when the castle came into view, she was incredibly overwhelmed. Mrs. Monroe had said it was a small castle, but it was far from it as far as she was concerned. It sat at the bottom of a small, rolling hill set on a neatly manicured patch of the greenest grass she'd ever seen. 

On the inside edges of the grass there were misshaped stones about two feet high that stretched about ten feet toward the other end of the castle then ended abruptly. 

"Sir? Did the curtain wall surround the entire estate?" She caught him looking at her reflection curiously through the window. 

"You know your architecture."

"I studied architecture and archaeology in college. It's more like a hobby."

"Impressive. And yes, it did. The grassy area was the inner courtyard. The ruins there were destroyed during Cromwell's civil war in the mid-1600s. It was the original Tower House."

"When was it built, Sir?" she asked excitedly as she turned to look at him.

He narrowed his eyes at her but wore the smallest of grins. "You ask too many questions."

"Yes Sir. I've killed many a cat, too."

"I'll answer all of your questions once you're settled."

She smiled. "Thank you, Sir."

Looking back at the house as they drove closer, more than half of the building seemed to be liveable, while the other half looked like it was nothing but stand-alone walls, ruins of what it had once been. To the left was a small building with a round-domed roof connected to a longer building with a slanted roof. The entranceway was huge with a dark-wood door carved with something, but she couldn't see what the design was at that distance. To the right were two other sections then a round, three-level tower with a blue and white crossed flag waving above it.

"Sir, is the flag your family's crest?" she asked.

"No. It's The Saltire, Scotland's national flag."

She looked back out the window. The ruins on the far, east side at one time had been the same length as the big, livable section, but all that remained was one wall with a large space where a window had been and two or three long walls with ragged and uneven height levels of brick. 

The long driveway forked to the right which led to the circular driveway to the main door. But they went straight and parked at the west end of the castle. After slipping on her heels, Gayle reached for the door handle when it mysteriously opened on its own. When she saw David standing there she smiled and slid out, again pushing her skirt down.

"Hodges," Hamish said as he stepped beside Gayle. "Please take her bag into the maid's quarters, and you may leave for the day."

David gave him a little bow. "Yes, Master," he said then walked away.

Hamish put his hand in the small of her back and led her to the side door. "Would you like a cuppa?"

"Um, cuppa what, Sir?" she asked confused.

He grinned. "A cup of tea or coffee. Maybe when it gets colder hot chocolate if you have been good."

"Oh, yes, please, Sir. Coffee would be wonderful," she answered as they walked through the door.

She was expecting a foyer but it was the kitchen. The dome-shaped room had five-sectional walls, and where they met were wooden beams that fanned out to meet in the center of the ceiling in a spider-like shape. Each section had shallow alcoves filled with the stove and oven; refrigerator; covered neatly with pots and pans; a large sink; or a floor-to-ceiling cabinet. In the center was a small, black slate island. 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 02



"Wow, Sir, this is incredible," she grunted, as she was staring at the ceiling with her head all the way back. Looking at him she said, "I wondered if your kitchen would be modernized or not."

"It's partially modernized. The copper pot in the fireplace is just for show," he replied as he filled an unusual looking percolator with water.

"Ah." Spinning around she saw the remaining sections; one had a small table and two chairs set in front of a bay window, and the other had the clothes washer and dryer with a shelf with detergent and such. "Why are the washer and dryer in the kitchen, Sir?"

"Convenience."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." She wanted to sit down but thought better of it. She wasn't sure if she was to wait for further instruction.

"Four." The percolator started to gurgle and he approached her, one arm behind his back. "First things first. Turn around and pull your hair up." His voice was deeper than it had been before and much more commanding.

As she did he stood very close behind her. Bringing his hands around the front of her neck, the smell of leather wafted to her nose. 

"Hmm. You have a very kissable neck."

She couldn't reply from the knot in the back of her throat. A strap about an inch wide tightened slightly against her throat before he pulled it behind her neck, buckling it into place. 

"You will wear my collar at all times, except when you bathe. You are now my employee, Ms. Boyce." 

"I understand, Sir."

Hodges, hurry up! Jings, you're slow today, he thought impatiently. He wasn't done with Gayle yet, and it was the part he was really looking forward to. 

Gayle lifted her hand and felt the thick, metal ring dangling from the center, resting just at the tip of her collarbone.

Several seconds passed before he said, "You may sit." After she did he asked if she wanted cream or sugar.

"Just black, Sir."

He didn't reply but went back to the counter, poured the coffees, brought her a cup and sat down across from her. They were quiet for a few minutes as they sipped their coffees.

David walked into the kitchen and said, "Ms. Boyce, your bag is in your room." 

If he noticed her collar he didn't let on, but still, Gayle was very embarrassed. "Thank you." 

David then turned to Hamish and bowed. "I shall take my leave now, if you'll permit me to do so."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Is he serious? she wondered. Should she act as David was?

"Go home, Hodges," Hamish replied with a sly grin.

As David walked past Gayle and was hidden from Hamish's scrutiny, he winked at her, which told her he had been playing with Hamish by making submissive comments. It made her laugh to herself. David certainly was a character, and she decided she liked him a lot.

Hamish sat across from her and they remained silent for a moment. When she could take it no longer she said, "Sir, I've got the doctor's and Cherrydale papers you requested to see."

He simply nodded, straight-faced. "Stand."

She was stunned at his abruptness and froze. "Ms. Boyce, when I give you an order I expect you to follow it, without hesitation. Do you understand that?"

She nodded emphatically. "Yes Sir. I'm sorry, Sir," she mumbled as she stood up beside the chair. She didn't dare get closer.

He pushed his chair back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't apologize. Just do as you are told." He paused a moment. "Turn around."

She didn't delay. Her heart began to pound in her chest as she turned facing away from him.

"Remove your skirt."

That order made her heart skip a beat. She wanted to run off screaming, but that was impossible. Trying to stop her hands from shaking, she grabbed the waist, pulled it down to her ankles and stepped out of it, laying it neatly on the chair she had been sitting on. She was well aware she was flashing her ass at him, but she did as he asked. 

Hamish grinned wickedly at her exquisitely perfect upside down, heart-shaped ass. "Hmm. Very nice. Now turn around and remove your blouse." 

If her heart skipped a beat before, it almost exploded when she heard those words. Turning around, she brought her hands to the collar and quickly unbuttoned the first two buttons.

When he saw that she was not completely shaven as he requested, he was livid. It took all of his control not to show his anger. As calmly as he could, he said, "Slow down, lass."

Taking a deep breath, she undid the remaining four buttons slower but found it too difficult to pull the blouse off. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before summoning up the necessary courage. She took it off and spread it on the top rail of the same chair as her skirt. 

And there she stood with her heart pounding in her chest and butterflies fluttering around in her stomach as she totally exposed herself to him. She couldn't control her body shaking or her blushing cheeks as he looked over her body.

Gayle was exactly as he had pictured her when he first saw her at the restaurant. No, she was even more beautiful. Her ivory skin looked so delicate, and it took all the control he had not to take her right then and there.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You have an exquisite body. Now, put your hands on the table, arms stretched, bend over and spread your legs." 

She did as she was instructed, though it then felt her heart would definitely explode from her chest from pounding so hard. Whether it was the fact he paid her such a wonderful compliment or the fact she was completely naked in front of him she didn't know. She bowed her head and closed her eyes because she was so petrified she didn't want to look into his eyes. 

He stood beside her a moment then asked, "Have you prepared yourself for me as I instructed?" Knowing the answer, he wanted to hear her say it.

She didn't answer quickly enough. He grabbed her hair at the crown of her head and pulled her head back, though not roughly. "Do I need to take you to the doctor to get your hearing checked?" he asked harshly into her ear.

She was terrified to answer, but she managed to mumble, "No Sir." 

He let go of her hair, smacked her ass hard then gathered her hair again. Her eyes flew open, and she grimaced as her cheek stung, and she fought not to break down so soon. 

"That was for you hesitating." His voice was beyond cruel. "Get used to this. I will do this every day, in case you've forgotten," he said sarcastically.

Keeping one hand in her hair, he stretched his other arm down to her crotch, grazing his fingertips against her skin just above her clit. Bending down a bit, he ran the length of his fingers on either side of her entrance. Bringing his hand back up, he ran his fingers on both sides of her labia but didn't touch her clit. Her body began to shake as his fingers explored her sex.

When she caught his facial expression, she froze when she saw the deep frown on his face and the anger in his eyes. After he leaned back up he let go of her hair and put his hands on his hips, then stared at her long and hard. 

She knew exactly why he was livid. Looking straight ahead, she said, "Sir, I shaved three weeks ago, but --"

"Did I ask for your excuses, Ms. Boyce?" he barked. "You had a month to do it. And yet I find fucking stubble?! In fact it is not even stubble it is that long."

"Yes Sir, I know, but --" 

She knew she had done wrong, but she never expected to feel as ashamed as she did at defying his order. When she met him at the restaurant, she had no doubt it was a game to him. Why she thought that way was beyond her. 

He smacked her ass cheek even harder that time, forcing her to yelp in pain. "Shut it. So, how many spankings have you accumulated, minus ignoring the contract?" he asked tersely. 

She couldn't think straight but recalled hearing him say 'four.' Before she could reply he smacked her right on the fleshiest part of her ass cheek on a new spot that stung even worse. She grunted loudly and gripped the edge of the table harder.

He leaned and asked sternly in her ear, "That's for your hesitation ... again. How many, Ms. Boyce?"

"Four, Sir."

As he stood back up, he said, "Your goal is to not make the coffee spill as I punish you. Think you can manage that?" His tone was deep and throaty.

"Yes Sir."

"And why do I have to do this so soon, Ms. Boyce?" That time when he said her name it was callously.

"For, um, not calling you Sir, Sir."

SMACK! His hand hit her squarely on her left cheek, causing her to emit a little squeak, but it wasn't hard enough to cause the table to move or bring tears to her eyes.

"Correct. But count them off."

"Yes Sir. One, Sir." 

"Good. What else?"

"Sir, I um, Sir, I don't ... I don't know." She was horrified of the next impact and tightened her ass cheeks.

"Loosen your bum!"

No sooner had she done so he continued. SMACK! SMACK! The impact was much harder than the others. It stung horribly, and she thought she felt the imprint of each of his fingers. 

"Two, three, Sir." She fought to keep the tears at bay, but her eyes had become moist.

"Did that help jog your memory?" he growled into her ear.

Suddenly it came to her. "Yes, yes Sir. I called you by your surname, Sir."

"Correct."

He slapped her ass once more then rubbed her cheeks slowly, not that that would alleviate the pain. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as her ass cheeks began to tingle and burn.

She sniffled before she groaned, "Four, Sir."

Placing his hands on her shoulders, which were quivering badly by then, he pulled her shoulders gently then turned her around. She was expecting him to have the face of a male Medusa, but it wasn't. It was only a little cross.

"You will watch your step from now on. This is nothing compared to what I can really do."

Gathering her courage and what little pride she had left, she lifted her head and finally looked him in his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Yes Sir. I will. I'm sorry."

He looked over her shoulder. "No coffee spilt. I think that might deserve a reward. Let's take a quick walk around the lake."

"Yes Sir." 

She reached for her clothes, but Hamish said, "Nu-uh."

"What, Sir? I can't go out there naked!"

"You won't be." He turned and walked toward the washer and dryer. "I have something for you to wear." A moment later he returned with an outfit and a pair of sneakers, which he handed to her.

She took them but then frowned at the outfit, which was seriously missing much needed fabric. Without it on her, all she could tell of it was it was black with sheer material; the bra was cupless, and there was a string throng attached. 

After slipping on the panties she pulled the bodice over her head then pulled at the hem, which rested just at her crotch, but it didn't cover as much as she hoped. The sheer material rested snuggly against her hips on the side then thinned to a string just above the crack of her ass. The material over her stomach had a double arch inward that left her waist exposed and met just under the bra with a small, black bow. She tied it behind her easily enough.

Lastly, she tied the string of the bra behind her neck, making sure it didn't get caught on the collar. As she did she'd looked down and cringed at seeing half of each breast sticking out, as were her perky nipples. 

"I feel ridiculous, Sir," she muttered under her breath.

"You look ravishing enough to eat. Put the trainers on. At the rate you're going the sun will be down before you're done."

She moaned when she sat down on her still-stinging ass to put on the shoes. "How did you know what size I wear, Sir?" she asked after she put them on.

"Lass, I observe everything about my employees."

She smiled. "Lucky guess, Sir?"

He actually chuckled. "Most definitely." 

As she stood she couldn't help but notice the bulge in the crotch of his jeans. She'd figured he was an ass-man, and the thought made her smile inwardly. How the hell can he get a hard on just from spanking me a few times?! she wondered. She was afraid what would have happened to her if he spanked her more than he had.

Walking to the door with Hamish behind Gayle, he whistled loudly which made her jump. A rapid clicking of toenails and a low bark came from deep within the castle; the clicking grew louder and closer.

"Bessie! In here!" he yelled out.

A second later a black Labrador came tearing into the kitchen with her tail wagging wildly. Running to Hamish, she nestled her nose between his knees and let him pet her before she noticed Gayle. Bessie sneezed and shook her head before she approached the stranger. "Hey, girl," Gayle said as she bent over and put out her hand for Bessie to smell before she'd pet her. Looking at Hamish, who was smiling, she said, "You didn't tell me you had a dog, Sir. How old is she?"

Before he could answer, Bessie deemed Gayle an acceptable friend and jumped up; her paws resting on her thighs. "Get down you herbert," Hamish ordered sternly. 

Obediently, Bessie settled down and padded to the door, turned around then looked at her master. After he opened the door she ran out about ten feet, stopped, sat on her hind legs and looked back toward the door, her tail still wagging furiously. 

Allowing Gayle to walk through first, Hamish replied, "Bessie just turned a year. She was a rescue."

"Oh. She's very well trained."

"That she is. I've spent a lot of time with her. She does sometimes get too excited though and forgets, as you have just seen." "Don't you keep a leash on her, Sir?" she asked shocked as they started to walk, Bessie leading the way.

"Lord, no. That'd be cruel."

"Oh! No! I wasn't insinuating it was, Sir. At home it's a law."

"Here she gets the run of the estate, supervised of course. It's perfectly safe for her."

Watching Bessie closely, Gayle noticed that while it was still morning, the air was a little chilly with the light breeze. It did nothing to help prevent her nipples stand at attention as soon as she was out of the sun. 

As they walked the path in the thin forest surrounding the sides and back of the house, Hamish followed behind closely behind Gayle. It wasn't that he was afraid he'd lose her but because he wanted a nice view of her backside instead of the same trees he'd seen since he was a child. 

Gayle was well aware of the heat of his eyes piercing her back. Watching Bessie sniffing along the path, the silence between them was beginning to bug her. "Sir? Can you tell me a little about the castle?" 

Running up to Gayle carrying a tree branch in her mouth, Bessie dropped the stick a few feet in front of Gayle. "Oh? You wanna play?" Gayle asked as she bent over, picked up the branch and threw it down the path. Bessie went running after it. 

In bending over she had totally forgotten the wonderful view of her parts that she had just given Hamish.

"I don't take you for a dog person, Ms. Boyce," he commented, ignoring her question.

"I do prefer cats."

"Yes. That's what I just said."

His arrogance was beginning to grate on her nerves. "The castle, Sir?" she asked, trying to take the topic from him for a change.

"It was built by Raghnall Duncanstone in 1326. It was owned by that family for generations until Margaret Duncanstone married Fearghus McDougal. Their son, William, inherited the castle and land in 1498. It's been in our family ever since."

"When happened to the other side of the castle, the ruins?"

"That was destroyed during civil war. My 10th great-grandparents were killed while their son was off fighting. The neighboring clans helped to defend it but could save only the half that remains." 

She was flabbergasted at what he'd said and stopped in mid-stride to turn around, but her feet got twisted with an exposed tree root, and she ended up falling back on her ass from the momentum. Her arms were holding her up behind her, and her legs were spread wide in front of him. The panty's thin material was pushed aside on impact, showing him all of her goods.

Bessie had seen Gayle go down and ran to her, licking her face to make sure she was okay. "Ow!" she cried out from the fall. Her face grimaced in pain then promptly brought her knees together. "I'm okay, Bessie. I'm okay." 

Gayle thought it a bit rude that Hamish didn't ask if she was hurt. Instead she heard his laughter echoing through the trees. She looked up at him angry at first, but she wasn't sure if it was because he was laughing at her or the fact that Bessie kept licking her face. But she had to admit he had a wonderful, infectious laugh. Soon enough she was laughing with him.

He exclaimed, "I don't mean to laugh!" He never did stop laughing.

"Ha, ha. Sir," she grumbled as she tried to find a way to get up gracefully. 

He was still chuckling when he bent over and extended his arm to her. She cautiously took his hand, and in one hard, swift pull she was on her feet. Wiping her ass softly she giggled. "Yeah, I guess that was pretty funny, Sir. But you could have caught me."

"Now, if I did that I wouldn't have seen that remarkable twat of yours." 

She didn't have to know the translation of 'twat' to know what it meant. She glared at him, her anger slowly turning into a boil. "Sir, Mr. McDougal, Sir." A spanking be damned, she huffed to herself. 

"Would it be too much to ask for you to treat me with just a little ..." She pinched her forefinger and thumb almost together, "... more ... more than a piece of meat?" She threw her arms up, huffed in frustration and stormed down the path, Bessie in tow.

"Ms. Boyce," he called out after her, but she ignored him. "Stop!" he screamed louder.

The anger in his voice made her stop, but she didn't turn around. Twigs snapped signaling his approach as she fisted both hands, closed her eyes tight and tried to control her breathing. "Sir, I shouldn't have --"

"Quiet!" he hissed as he stepped in front of her. "Your little outburst deserves another spanking, don't you think?"

A double-edge sword of a question if she'd ever heard one. She remained silent.

He put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump; he quickly removed it. Lowering and softening his tone, he said, "Look at me." She tried but couldn't. "Open your eyes." 

Taking a deep breath she finally did. A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away. She wasn't crying because her ass hurt; she was crying because she was angry as hell -- with a bit of remorse for her screaming at him. I'll be dead by morning, she thought. 

"You're right. I apologize for my language. You've been here for a few hours and ... I forget that you're new."

"New, Sir? You mean American." 

"No. I mean new as in submissive." He suddenly slapped her ass cheek, causing a loud squeal to escape from her mouth. "That was for using my last name, not your outburst."

"Yes Sir. Maybe I overreacted, Sir."

He shook his head. "No, you didn't. But make no mistake, if you don't follow the rules you will be punished. It won't be immediate because I never punish when I'm angry, but I never forget a transgression."

"Yes Sir. I understand."

"I'm not a prat all the time."

She smirked. "Oh, god. Sir, we ought to write a book and name it 'The Prude and the Prat.'"

Hamish shook his head. "You must be dog tired. I believe you're delirious." He stepped beside her and nudged her shoulder gently. "Come on."

It wasn't long before they reached the lake, where Hamish threw a branch into the water and Bessie went right in after it.

Gayle noted that the trees from the other side reflecting off the water, giving it an almost ethereal appearance. The birds singing from the tops of the trees, the clean air and the warmth of the sun instantly calmed her. "Wow. I can see why you like it so much here, Sir. It's so serene here."

Bessie trotted out of the water and dropped the stick at Gayle's feet. Gayle had one of two ways to pick it up: She could turn her body one way to prevent an excellent, though very unladylike view of her tush at Hamish; or she could turn it another and have her tits target the ground. Remembering she had already accidentally done the first option, she chose the second. 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 02



Once Gayle threw the stick and Bessie splashed into the water, Hamish replied, "Yes, very peaceful."

Suddenly and very loudly two jets flew overhead quite close to each other. It was deafening with their low altitude. They watched the entire flight until they were out of sight.

"Well, it's usually quiet," Hamish corrected.

She chuckled. "Where did they come from, Sir?"

"Leuchars Air Force Base is five minutes away, although it's unusual for them to be flying now. Fast jets don't go off very often as they're away most of the time. There's a bench over here."

She followed him and sat down as gracefully as she could. Instinctively she looked down at her breasts and wanted to hide them. But she remembered what he'd said about not doing it. It was very unnatural for her to be parading around wearing practically nothing. 

Bessie came out of the water, shook her body to get the water out of her coat and sat at Hamish's feet. After Gayle patted the top of the dog's head, she asked, "What were you saying about the house before I fell on my butt, Sir?" 

"You can't see it from here, but down the hill on the far end of the house is the Tithe Barn and gardens. It was built 1498. This area is known for its plentiful game, and the horses were kept there at the time; another victim of war."

"What a shame, Sir. Other than the kitchen, has the house been renovated, like with running water and plumbing?"

"Yes, of course. We are no longer savages, Ms. Boyce. Father built the library himself shortly after I was born. He insisted it be kept within the style of the original, thankfully. Mum advised against it; he was no handyman. He almost killed himself several times, but the worst injuries he sustained were cut fingers and scraped knees." 

His voice had gotten softer than he'd spoken before, but she put it down to the fact that he was petting Bessie and it must have relaxed him. After staring out over the water with a distant gaze, he went to the water's edge, picked up a rock and threw it into the tranquil lake. Bessie was about to jump in the water when Hamish told her to stay, which she did.

Debating whether she should stay where she was or go to him, Gayle waited a moment before she went and stood beside him, picked up a rock and threw it on the surface. It skipped four times before it sank with a deep 'thunk.' 

Sensing a challenge and not to be undone, he picked up a prime rock -- small and flat -- and threw it expertly. It skipped so many times she couldn't keep count.

"Ha! I believe that was six, Ms. Boyce," he chided. 

"I didn't realize we were betting, Sir," she replied lightheartedly.

"We weren't. I just wanted to see if I could beat you."

She laughed. "Touche, Sir. My sister Catelyn and I aren't very competitive with each other."

"I have a younger brother, and that's all we ever did growing up. Compete." 

She was beginning to sense the emotion in his voice and didn't want to be too pushy by asking too many questions. Besides, it never once escaped her mind how odd it should feel to be talking with him almost naked. But it was becoming more comfortable -- or she was more used to it, maybe.

"It's a guy thing, I think, Sir, being competitive." Suddenly she let out a long wide-mouthed yawn.

"Very true. Are you knackered, yet?"

"It depends on what knackered means, Sir," she said lightheartedly. 

"Are you tired?" he said slowly with a slight grin.

"I think I could pass out right now. Sir, do you think it'd hurt if I just close my eyes for an hour?"

"Hmm. How about I get you something to eat and then you can rest. I haven't caught up with today's newspaper." 

The silence between them on the walk back gave her time to think. While Gayle had no physical attraction to Hamish, she was glad he at least showed some real emotion and admitted he was wrong. But she wasn't sure if she was ready to have sex with him, not that it really mattered. The thought wasn't completely sickening to her but more of the unknown that made her apprehensive. 

"Here we are," Hamish said as she found herself standing in front of a side door. When she looked up at him he was staring at her strangely.

"Sorry, Sir," she said as she walked into the kitchen. 

"Have a seat," Hamish said, nodding his head to the kitchen table. "Would you like some more coffee?" 

Bessie sat at Gayle's feet but watched Hamish excitedly. Petting the dog, she replied, "Thanks, but no Sir. When I have too much and I'm exhausted my mind won't stop and I never get to sleep." She had to catch her breath. "I also ramble."

"I know what you mean." He opened the refrigerator and peeked inside. "Hmm, looks like it'll be cullen skink."

She crinkled her nose at the name. "That doesn't sound very appetizing, Sir. And it's not shellfish, is it?"

Taking out a container, he set it on the counter and pulled out a cooking pot. "No, and stop getting your knickers in a twist. I told Mrs. Harrower you are allergic. It's a simple soup with smoked haddock, potatoes and onions.

"Oh, okay. Thank you." She watched as he put the soup in a pot and warmed it on the stove. "Sir? Does David live in the village?"

"Hmm? No, he doesn't. He lives in the caretaker flat on the far side of the property." 

"And all he does is drive you around, Sir?"

He chuckled. "No. He's also the gardener and handyman. I wasn't blessed with Father's skilled hands."

"He seems nice, Sir."

He turned and looked at her sharply. "You fancy him?"

"What? No Sir, of course not. Just curious, is all."

"He's off limits to you." She was surprised at his jealousy and was about to comment when he added, "Sorry to disappoint you, but he's gay."

"Oh. OH! Solves that problem, then," she chuckled, though he didn't join her.

He contemplated her comment for a moment before he dug out bowls and placed them on the table. He gave Bessie a small, dog bone treat, and she scurried under the table, happily munching away.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Just water, please, Sir."

A few minutes later, Hamish sat across from Gayle and began to eat the soup. "How do you like it?"

She didn't like it, not really. She tried not to wrinkle her nose. "It's okay. I'm not much of a fish eater, but it's good."

"You're a horrible liar."

"I am. I can never remember the lies I tell so I don't even bother. Sir? How long has Mrs. Harrower been cooking for your family?"

"Since before I was born. She is also the housekeeper. Anything you need for the house, toilet paper, cleaning supplies, just let her know." 

"Yes Sir. Thanks. I was wondering about that. And with cooking I haven't cooked anything really fancy before, especially skully skunk soup. I'm worried about using the stove and oven, though, and especially the washer and dryer."

He chuckled at the name. "On Tuesday, Mrs. Harrower will show you how to use everything as well as where she keeps the cleaning supplies. You will have to wear your blouse and skirt while you are around her until you are on your own."

"Thank you, Sir. I wouldn't want to turn your white ... whatever you wear pink." She blushed.

"Nor would I, if I wore underwear. I think by Wednesday you'll have it down pat to begin your routine. Oh, balls. I forgot the bread."

She relaxed somewhat as he retrieved the bread basket and set it on the table.

"Sir? May I ask another question?"

"You just did," he replied as he sipped his whisky.

She simply nodded and ate a few more spoons of soup.

He wanted to test her. She was more than he had hoped for, so far. "Ask away. I don't mind questions. I just don't answer them twice."

She looked up at him and leaned back, trying to get comfortable. "Okay. Mrs. Monroe said it was a small castle, but I wasn't expecting the size. Do you think it's something I can handle, cleaning wise?"

"Ms. Boyce, I don't expect you to clean every single room in one day. It is manageable for one person." 

Suddenly she yawned and tried to finish the last of the soup. Her eyes were dry and her eyelids were becoming heavier by the minute.

"If you're finished I can take you upstairs to your room."

She stifled another yawn. "Yes, please, Sir."

Hamish stood and hooked his fingers. She looked at him confused. "I'll need your trainers. You'll only need them on our walks." After she took them off she handed them to him. "Slip your heels back on."

She did that as well, though she groaned when she stood in them.

"Right, then. Follow me. Come, Bess." 

Walking out of the kitchen through the curved doorway was a long hallway with many, many portraits hanging on every wall. Immediately to the right was a closed door where the dining room must be. Looking around further as they walked, she first noticed the slanted, dark-wood beams supported by horizontal beams. She couldn't even begin to imagine how old they were. 

As they passed the alcoves, which either had a side table with a small lamp or a chair, opposite were floor-to-ceiling oval windows that alternated with each alcove. Looking out she saw an adjoining two-story building in the back.

As she stepped into the beam of sun from the windows, she realized it wasn't as cold inside as she expected. "Sir, why isn't it colder? I thought all castles were cold, damp and dreary."

He smirked. "Oh, that they are. The living areas are heated with the multi-fuel burner. The estate woodlands provide all the wood needed. It also heats the water for bathing. I usually burn a fire in the small drawing room, though, and there are fireplaces in each bedroom.

In the center of the hallway to the right was a fireplace and above that was a beautiful portrait of a hunter on his horse with several dogs in the lead on the edge of a forest. Seeing her interest, he said, "That was my 11th great-grandfather, Seamus McDougal in 1592."

Gayle was speechless and gazed at him in amazement. "How do you keep them so well preserved, Sir?"

"I repaint them every year," he answered seriously. "Takes me a week to do a two-inch area."

"Really?! That's ... wait, you can't be serious, Sir."

He laughed. "Of course I'm not. I have a local conservationist clean them every few years and a specialist to keep the dust off. They are so high up on the walls that it wouldn't be wise to have you up on a ladder."

She returned his laugh. "Good one, Sir. I fell for that."

He thought she had a quick wit as well. He loved her sassiness, specifically at the restaurant in Virginia. She had already proven she would be quite the challenge, yet a challenge he would look forward to. 

He couldn't help but notice she looked at every single painting, and though he didn't wait to dawdle he, told her, "The majority of the paintings are my ancestors going back almost five hundred years." She looked at him with her mouth agape. "Close your mouth, lass. It's not very becoming."

She promptly did with a grin. "Sorry, Sir. It's just I don't have photos of my own great-grandmother. These are incredible."

"I can tell you who they are, if you'd like, but not now."

"Thank you, Sir. I'd like that."

He put his hand on the small of her back and led her down the rest of the hall, all the while Gayle admiring each one she passed. For some odd reason she was beginning to like the security he gave her by gently physically guiding her.

At the closed door he opened it and motioned for her to go through. She walked into the huge main foyer. To the right was the main entrance, and in the center was a large vase with flowers sitting on a large, antique table. The stairs were to the left, covered with a red and black carpet and very wide; beyond them was another fairly wide hallway, but she couldn't see what other rooms it led to. There were four closed, double-doors, but she wasn't about to ask what rooms they were; she had plenty of time to be given the grand tour later. 

Following him up the wide stairs, she noticed in the landing two Queen Anne chairs in a beautiful embroidered design and a small table, but she didn't stop to inspect it further. They walked the short hallway, passing six closed bedroom doors. 

"Sir? There are six bedrooms I'll need to clean?"

"There are five bedrooms, mine and yours, which you will clean daily. The four guest rooms will only need to be dusted and hoovered once a week, as they're rarely used." 

"Hoover, Sir?"

"Vacuum."

"Oh. Okay, Sir." 

"Right, here we are," he said as he stopped in front of the farthest door on the right at the end of the hall. 

She thought her bedroom might be part of the tower, or connected to it, at least. Her assumption was confirmed when he opened the door, but she didn't move an inch as she looked into the room.

The misshapen stone walls of the oval-shaped room were painted white with only a slit of a window that barely let any sunlight in at all. The only furniture in the room was the double bed with plain wooden headboard and footboard, a small nightstand with a tiny lamp, a wardrobe, a four-drawer dresser and a chair. The room was no bigger than a walk-in closet, and she thought he was playing a joke on her. But then she saw her suitcase in the corner. 

Suddenly she felt Hamish's eyes burrow into her. When she turned to look at him, he said, "Remember what you said about rewards?" She nodded tentatively. "Prove yourself and you'll get one of the en-suite guestrooms."

Nodding, she asked, "May I use the bathroom, Sir?" 

She was surprised her voice was as terse as it was, but she was more than surprised and disappointed at the size of the room. It was like he was blatantly telling her she wasn't worth a damned thing.

"This way."

She followed him to a door on the left at the top of the stairs then he opened it. Walking through the doorway, Bessie wanted to come in with her but Hamish stopped her. 

Closing and locking the door behind her, she sat on the toilet while looking around the room. The walls were brick-sized, lightly colored stones. To the left was a slate sink with cabinets underneath, and on the right was a vanity with more cabinetry and a small window. 

A third of the far wall had light tan-colored tile squares, while the remaining wall was painted a lighter shade of the tile squares. Just above the tiles was a narrow, marble mantel with two clear vases and several candles. The beautiful tub looked like marble the same color as the mantel. The fixtures were surprisingly ornate.

When Gayle was finished she walked out and headed back to her bedroom. "At least the bathroom is bigger than my hole-in-the-wall bedroom," she whispered sarcastically.

Still he heard her. "Ms. Boyce, keep up that attitude and I will enjoy tremendously giving you punishments, and often," he warned.

As they approached her bedroom door, she turned and said, "Then it's a good thing it doesn't start for two weeks."

Hamish was done with Gayle at that moment. Catching her off guard, he grabbed her by the ring of her collar and pulled her to him abruptly. She was more than flabbergasted at his aggressiveness. Staring into his face with wide, frightened eyes, her mind reeled in fear.

His face was an inch from hers. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "I don't recall ever saying such a thing. I said I would take it easy on you. As a matter of fact, since you somehow believe you're setting the rules, let's see how much you can take. I was going to wait a few days, but now I think tomorrow will be the perfect time to show you my dungeon. You still have a punishment coming from your stubbly pussy faux pas, but that will wait until Friday. I'm sure more will be added throughout the week." 

He paused for her reaction and wasn't disappointed when her eyes flew open as well as her mouth. She thought better of saying anything and closed her mouth sharply.

"That's what I thought. I'll wake you up at three." 

He left Gayle standing in the hall, her body shaking and on the verge of tears. She regretted ever accepting the position.



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 03



 Okay, so, as much as I tried to fight Scooter Titenbum, I must admit he is right, dag nabbit! 

I was worried about this chapter, but Scooter says to mention that this is more of a filler—specifically a tour of Hamish's castle. 

Please, please keep reading! He promised chapter 4 is a major improvement with a bath and some ...

Thanks for the votes!! They definitely make me smile.

CHAPTER THREE

Turning over in bed, Gayle awoke suddenly when she felt someone watching her. She sat up and looked around, but no one was in the room with her. Collapsing back down on the bed, she sighed in relief but it still felt like someone was in the room. A chill coursed through her, so she bundled the covers up tightly under her chin. The feeling slowly faded away. 

The room was barely lit through the arrow-slit of the window. Because she wasn't wearing a watch she had no idea what time it was; there wasn't even a clock, and she wondered how she'd wake up in the mornings without one. She hoped Hamish hadn't come to wake her and she was still out cold. Already having a sour taste of his authority, she didn't want a repeat.

Her eyes burned and her eyelids were still swollen from exhaustion, and she wanted to go back to sleep. But glancing at the suitcase, she figured it wouldn't hurt to empty it. Maybe it would keep her mind pre-occupied from her situation.

After stretching her body with a long, loud yawn, she slipped out of bed and gasped at the cold, stone floor. It was only August. She was dreading how cold it would be by November. She wished then she'd thought to bring a robe as one of her two personal items.

Throwing the suitcase on the end of the bed and opening it, she pulled out the pen and note book she was planning on using as a journal of her trip, and set it on the nightstand, followed by the over-stuffed make-up case on its bottom shelf.

The second to last item she got was her favorite picture of her family posing on the beach at Nags Head in North Carolina when she was 15. She smiled as she looked over at how happy her mother was then. It was a far cry from how she was now. Moisture filled her eyes as she remembered the sand castle they'd built just feet from where they stood. Her mother was a perfectionist at everything she did, and the castle had to be just right. Gayle had given up helping because it had to be done a certain way. She chuckled when she realized she was one step away from being just like her mother in that regard.

Taking out a third forbidden item, she placed Stephen King's million-pages long novel 'It' on the bed. She was hoping she'd find a good place to hide it, considering she was only allowed two items. She was playing with fire, and she knew it, but she needed something to keep her mind off her family if she ever had trouble falling asleep.

Pulling out the winter jacket, she secretly wanted to slip it on to keep warm since she'd taken off the outfit before her nap; she hoped there would be warmer clothes in the armoire. Opening the door, her jaw hit the floor when she saw several outfits hanging neatly -- actually, they appeared to be hanging by a few strings due to the complete lack of material. 

She flipped through a few of them and realized they were the aprons she was to wear during her different duties. Most were black; a few black and white; one kind was cotton; most were lace or satin. Attached to each were either black or white stockings.

"You have GOT to be kidding me!" she exclaimed.

Shaking her head, she closed the doors and turned to the bed when there was a loud, heavy banging, making her jump. "Ms. Boyce. Time to get up."

"Come in, Sir," she said as she sat on the bed and covered herself with the bed sheet. Only then did she remember the book, which sat on top of the comforter at her feet. Her stomach churned knowing she'd been caught. 

When the door opened, Bessie ran in and jumped on her bed, pulling the sheet away from her breasts. Gayle put her hands on the dog's head and petted her; she couldn't help but giggle. "You're a pleasant surprise to wake up to, poochers!" 

Bessie started licking her chin and lips, and Gayle turned her head away. "No, no. Eeww." The dog obediently stopped but stayed where she was. "Good girl."

Then she noticed Hamish standing in the doorway looking around from the book on the bed to the nightstand, where the notebook and photo were. She prayed he wouldn't say anything, but more importantly that he was in a more tolerant mood. 

Ha! she thought. His tolerance depends on my attitude and servitude. God, I hate my life. 

"Rest well?" he asked, though he didn't sound angry.

She nodded but replied, "Yes Sir. I could still go back to sleep. But I do feel better. Thanks." 

Looking at the lovely sight of her topless, he couldn't help but comment, "Think I will train Bessie to remove the bed sheet on a regular basis." 

Ignoring his chauvinistic comment, she stretched toward the suitcase and handed him a manila folder. "Cherrydale information is in there and my doctor's letter stating I'm clean."

"Brilliant. Thanks." He took the folder and put it under his arm. 

"Sir? I saw the aprons in the armoire. If I may ask, you want me to wear those around the house? I thought the outfit you gave me was just for the lake. I get no normal clothes?"

"Yes. When we go out you will be dressed accordingly." His tone wasn't harsh, so maybe he had calmed down a bit from when she'd sassed him.

"Okay. But I'm confused, Sir. If I am to wear your aprons for dinner, Mrs. Harrower will see me. And what above David?"

"Good question. You will be appropriately dressed. She doesn't come in until five to prepare dinner and never ventures beyond the banquet hall, which only she cleans, by the way. And David, well, he won't be interested in your naked bits at all, remember? Now, let me show you the rest of my home." His tone wasn't harsh, so maybe he had calmed down a bit from when she'd sassed him.

Standing by the bed, she watched as Hamish went to the armoire and opened it, going through a few before he pulled one out and showed it to her. It had a tiny sheer, black bra with a thin strip of white frilly lace and a bow in the center. There definitely wasn't enough material to cover her breasts. There were no panties, only a garter with the same lace trim at the top with a lace apron in the front.

"Do you fancy wearing this one?"

Not really, but I'm sure you do, she thought to herself. Instead, she answered, "Yes Sir." She wasn't about to refuse him.

Taking the outfit from him, she waited for him to leave while she dressed, but he didn't. She sighed and slipped it on. The garter barely covered her hips; the hem ended just below her crotch. The apron lace was completely covering her pubic area but it was still see-through. 

Trying to tie the bra in the back she found it difficult, and she struggled for a few seconds. "Let me get that for you."

She didn't argue. Holding her breath, he took the two strings and tied them together easily. His fingers brushed against her back several times, and her skin broke out in goose pimples from the contact, which surprised her. 

Only when he was done did she finally breathe. Looking down nervously, her fears were justified. The sturdy top of the bra exposed her breasts completely, though they were supported well enough, and her nipples had grown erect. She figured she'd have permanent nippleus erectus, as she playfully referred to them, the entire winter from the cold if she was going to be dressed like this, or undressed, as the case was. 

She put her hands on her hips then trailed them to the crack of her ass to see how much was covered. Her stomach churned when she realized her entire ass was showing.

"Turn around," Hamish growled.

Taking one long, deep breath she did, but couldn't look him in his eyes. Even so, she could still see the smile on his lips. Putting his forefinger under her chin he forced it up. "Ms. Boyce, look at me."

It was difficult, but she managed. She was expecting him to look at her predatorily, like he would take her right then and there. But his face was soft and his eyes were gentle. Smiling, he said, "Perfect."

"I guess so." She shrugged her shoulders. 

"You doubt me?"

"No Sir. I doubted how I would look in it," she replied as she slipped on the heels with a soft hiss.

"I see you are quite the prim and proper lady. Give me time. I will have you confident and proud to show off your perfection. Let's go."

I highly doubt that, Hamish, she thought then followed him down the stairs to the door closest to the front door. "This is the formal reception room."

She ran the tips of her fingers over the carvings in cherry wood door of flowers, plants and vines. "This is beautiful. Did someone in your family do it, Sir?"

"Yes. Niall Duncanstone in 1357."

"Wow!" He cleared his throat and his eyes bore into her. "Sir."

After he opened the door she walked in and looked around the room. The floors were wooden planks and appeared very aged. On cream colored rugs with blue designs were two sitting areas with furniture that looked more than two hundred years old. The whole room could fit at least thirty people. 

The fireplace was in the center to the right and huge. She could only imagine how much heat a fire that size would bring to the room. The other side had large plate glass windows; one was a beautiful stained glass of Adam and Eve surrounded by animals. Looking up, she admired the straight wooden beams, but they weren't stand alone. There were more beams vertically, giving the ceiling a checkerboard appearance.

"Sir? Do you entertain a lot?"

"Not much, but when I do I entertain big." He then led her to the second door. "This is the small drawing room, where I spend most of my time when I'm not in the library."

After he opened the door and stepped through she commented, "I love this room, Sir."

The room might have been smaller than the formal one, but the fireplace was no less elaborate. A couch, love seat and two chairs sat in front of the fireplace, which was adorned with a tapestry of a beautiful, petite woman sitting by a water fountain. It looked vaguely familiar. 

Turning to Hamish, who had a quizzical grin on his face, she asked, pointing to the tapestry, "Sir? If I may ask, is that of your garden?"

"You are free to ask questions. And yes, it is. She is my 13th great-grandmother, Charlotte in 1534 just after she married Oliver."

"Holy crap! That is so amazing, Sir." 

He grinned at her comment as she turned her attention back to the room. The ceiling appeared to be much older wood beams than its neighbor. The beginning of each curve of the wood was joined by an ivory sconce with the faces of various animals. In the corner to the right was a small bar area. She walked around the room and admired each portrait, all seemingly covering many, many generations.

"Most of the portraits are fairly recent, but there are a few that remain of the Duncanstones. They're in the banquet hall."

As they stepped into the foyer again, she asked, "Sir? Why do you keep the doors closed?"

"It's a necessity in winter. I hope you like the cold, Ms. Boyce. It gets pretty parky around then. And the door is the main entrance to the banquet hall. I'm saving that for last." 

"Oh. Okay. I don't mind the cold at all, Sir, especially snow," she replied as she followed him past the stairs to the back hallway. "Besides, it's always easier to put on clothes than it is to take them off."

"That depends on who you ask," he chuffed.

She ignored him because she knew he'd prefer her clothes taken off. "Do you get a lot of snow here, Sir?"

"Usually it averages no more than ten inches a season."

Just as they passed a door on the left she peered out at the garden. "Oh, Sir! The garden is wonderful!"

"It is. You've come at a good time to enjoy it."

They continued to walk. "Only ten inches of snow, Sir?

"Only? Lass, two inches closes the entire area for two days. At its worse the North winds blow in causing five to six feet snow drifts, which isn't uncommon. Add in the wind chill factor and it takes the temperature down to minus 10-15 Celcius."

"OK, you're the winner on that one. The worst we've gotten, according to Dad, was snowmageden two years ago, I think it was. It shut us down for a week. We had over thirty inches, and it piled up so bad it was a week before they plowed the streets thoroughly. Even then they plowed over the curb onto the sidewalk. Catelyn was so excited she dug tunnels in the backyard. Our snowball fights were epic. Even Mom and Dad got in on the action." 

"Bloody hell! I don't know which area is worse. Whatever the case, I'd stay in the Canary Islands for the winter given the chance."

They came to a small foyer; at the far end was a narrow closed door. To the right was a bright room with large plate-glass windows and to the left was another closed door. Just to the right of that was a set of curtained French doors that must have led to the garden. 

Hamish stepped to the right. "This is the morning room. It's where I sometimes eat breakfast and read the newspaper." 

Walking through the doorway, she noticed this room was much brighter than the others. Two plate glass windows were set on both sides of the fireplace across from the door; the fireplace was fairly small, but the ivory that surrounded it gave it a regal appearance. The mantel was carved as were the sides, but she didn't get close enough to see what the designs were.

There was a modern couch, love seat and two chairs sitting in front of the fireplace set on a burnt orange carpet with a turquoise design. There was a beautiful, intricately carved table with family photos sitting on top. She made a mental note to look at them when she cleaned the room. There was a two-seater table and chairs set in the alcove with a large plate-glass window. 

Lastly, she noted the ivory sconces of cherubs on the walls just inches below the ceiling, then fanned out to a rounded shape before it straightened and connected to the next beam.

"Ms. Boyce, why do you take such interest in the ceilings?"

She looked at him sheepishly then grinned. "I don't know. The wood beams are the original timbers, aren't they, Sir?"

He nodded. Back in the foyer, he said, "This is my library, where I sometimes bring clients, but not too often. You will not be cleaning this room at all. As a matter of fact, it will be locked at all times." He opened the door and let her through.

Walking past him, she nodded, not really thinking a thing about why it had to be locked. The walls were entirely of wood paneling eight feet high; there the panels met in multiple sections, each filled with a single, multi-colored slate blocks that met the ceiling. The flooring was the same colored wood planks as the walls.

The wall to her left was nothing but shelves for his huge book collection. The farthest wall had a fireplace with the same wooden mantel and hearth. What caught her attention was the portrait above the mantel of a man sitting in a chair with a dog between his knees. From the color of his hair and his rosy cheeks she thought it might be Hamish's father, but she wasn't going to ask him. To the right of the fireplace was a wooden clock that resembled the German clock her mother bought when they were in the Black Forest in Germany. 

Gayle watched Hamish as he went to his desk in the space opposite the door and put the manila folder she'd given him on the desk. The front of the beautifully carved back of the desk was almost hidden behind two leather back chairs. The desk was centered between two windows and two crystal chandeliers hung above chairs. In the corner to the right was a table with a Tiffany lamp with several drinking glasses and even more bottles of liquor. In the center of the wall was a flat-screen, 60" TV.

"Well, Sir, this is a man cave if I've ever saw one," she commented.

He frowned. "What's a man cave?"

"It's where men go that women aren't allowed so men can watch their sports undisturbed by their wives."

"Hmphh, then I guess it is my man cave." 

He left the room and stood in the hall for Gayle to come out. When she walked through the door he locked it and she went to the French doors that led to the garden.

"Sir? May we go outside for a bit?"

"Certainly. You may leave your shoes at the door."

She silently thanked him and removed them then they stepped outside onto the same plush green as the front. Bessie went running off, but Hamish didn't holler after her.

The garden was a fairly small, square area but the size of it fit the size of the castle. There would be no long walks around it; it was more to sit outside in the sun and relax. 

In full bloom were anemones, azaleas and rhododendrons which dotted the landscape, each in sections in the white gravel pathway. The far left wall was one long, narrow and perfectly pruned yew hedge, about four feet high; the top was slanted. The farthest wall had two full and round hedges in a dome shape; they were both about six feet high. Underneath both was a two-foot high, square-shaped hedge the same length as the taller ones. 

To the right were two smaller, circular gardens with various herbs and vegetables, which were almost ready to be harvested. In the very center was a square patch of grass in which sat a three-foot high, stone octagonal columned stone barrier with a small water fountain.

Following Hamish, Gayle grunted and groaned as the gravel bit into the bottom of her bare feet before sighing in relief when she stepped back onto the grass. 

As he sat down on the barrier facing the center, she looked at him horrified that he was sitting on something so old. 

"Ms. Boyce, I assure you it is quite alright to sit on this."

She nodded and sat down beside him, looking at the cherub spewing water from its mouth. The sun beating down on her bare skin felt much warmer to her than it had earlier. While it felt good, she also found she wasn't as self-conscious as she was when she was by the lake. 

Bessie suddenly appeared with a well-worn and chewed up Frisbee in her mouth and sat at Gayle's feet. They played catch for a few minutes before the dog had enough; she lied down in front of Gayle and let her pet her a few times.

While they'd been playing, she'd been thinking of her behavior only hours earlier. "Sir, I'm sorry about what I said ... earlier. I get really cranky when I'm overly tired. It's no excuse, but --"

"Cranky? Is that what you call it?"

"More like bitchy."

"We are the same in that regard. I am quick to anger but forgive just as quickly. Just watch yourself."

She simply nodded. 

Bessie heard something in the garden and went off running barking. Following her direction Gayle noticed a squirrel climbing up a small tree to safety. The dog had her paws on the trunk and was barking non-stop.

"Bessie! Get over here!" Hamish hollered.

She soon paddled over, begged for a pat on the head and sat on her hind legs at her owner's feet.

Looking at Gayle, he said, "From your reaction earlier I take it you weren't expecting a dungeon."

She hadn't realized she was so easy to read. "No Sir. Well, yes, but not a real torture chamber." Her voice quivered a little.

"I never said it was a torture chamber. It can be used for both punishment and pleasure." 

"Yes Sir," she replied. Punishment and pain she could understand, but dungeons never had a pleasurable reputation in the least. 

"Oh, lass. Do not fret at what I will do with you. I will take it easy on you for a bit. As we go on you must remember to communicate with me; that is the most important thing between a Dom and their submissive."

That was the first time she'd heard him reference their relationship as such. She hadn't thought of him as her Dom, only his employee. "I've never been able to express myself very well, Sir."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 03



"You did a crackin' job down by the lake."

"Well, that was out of anger, Sir, and I will watch my outbursts." She added the last bit to appease him

"That would be wise." Something was beginning to bother Hamish, though he couldn't put his finger on why. "Ms. Boyce, you no longer have to use Sir in every sentence, just when you address me."

She let out a sigh of relief because she felt the word never came out as naturally as she expected. "Thank you. Oh, may I get a clock for my bedroom, please?"

"Yes, of course, a battery-operated one. I'd offer you a radio, but I'm afraid reception is non-existent in your room."

"What was that room used for?"

"Your room was part of the original tower, and the only part of the ruins that remain usable, except for the dungeon and wine cellar. It was once the keep, or prison, I believe you Americans call it."

That would certainly explain the feeling she got earlier, but she wasn't about to press him further and tell him what had happened. 

"If you have a date out or I'm not really sleepy and want to stay up and read, may I sit in the small drawing room?"

"Yes. I'll be sure to inform you ahead of time if I will be bringing any guests home."

By the word 'guest' she assumed he meant woman, which was fine with her. The more sex he got from his dates the less he'd want from her.

She looked out over the garden trying to think of what else she wanted to ask now that she had the chance. "At what types of events will you need me to accompany you?"

"A charity event here or there, maybe a rugby match if you'd like."

"I've never seen a rugby game so that might be fun. But why wouldn't you take a date to the charity event, if that's not too personal to ask."

"It is," he replied curtly though not harshly.

The truth was he was looking forward to showing her off around town. His thinking was that every man's ego inflates when there is a beautiful woman at his side and there was nothing wrong with him doing just that.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

They were silent for several minutes in the quietness of the countryside and the warmth of the sun. She ran her toes through the grass, loving how good it felt. "Oh, will I have to wear my heels while I clean?"

"Yes. It completes your outfit."

She turned to him sharply. "Seriously, Sir?"

"Quite serious." 

"But I haven't been able to wear them for more than two hours at a time."

"You will get used to it." She could tell from his tone he was becoming annoyed with her.

Hamish, you try wearing heels for five hours and see how your feet hold up, she thought. "May I clean barefoot, then?"

"No, and I would stop arguing if I were you."

"I'm just clarifying the terms and conditions." She smiled innocently at him. "Okay, Sir."

"Much better. We will be going out Monday for some shopping ... and things."

"Really? I'd love a robe and slippers --"

"Don't get too excited. One simple outfit to wear around Mrs. Harrower, some socks --"

What she needed to ask was so personal she was embarrassed to even bring it up, yet it had to be done. "I will need underwear and ... um, some things for Eve's curse." 

He frowned at her sharply, completely oblivious to who Eve was and what her curse entailed. "Speak plainly. What are you trying to say?"

She sighed heavily and loudly. "I'll need pads for when I get my period. There were none in the bathroom nor my bedroom."

"Blast it, girl! Was that so difficult to say?"

She chuckled. "Yes, it was."

Hamish hated the fact that he'd totally forgotten about the, as she put it, curse. A week of no play would be torture for him, but he would find a way around the predicament. "Duly noted.

"Thank you. What else would I need? I can't think of anything."

"You will be having a proper waxing."

"Wha'? Sir, I know I made a mistake at leaving stubble, but can't I just shave with a razor? I promise I won't lapse again."

"No," he replied resolutely.

"But, Sir --" 

"Keep it up and I'll shave you myself with a straight razor," he warned.

"I heard a hot waxing hurts like hell, though!" She wasn't going to give up easily.

"Then you will remember to follow through on your instructions in the future, won't you?"

"Well, yes Sir, but please! Anything but -- I'm sorry. That is the worse pain I can ever imagine!"

Quite the opposite, lass, he thought. He then glared at her. "And yet you persist. Kneel before me, Ms. Boyce."

Oh, shit! Not again! she screamed to herself. That time she didn't hesitate at all. Getting on her knees slowly, she bowed her head and pulled her arms behind her, clasping her hands together. 

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He'd never requested her to do that. While he was pleased and considered not punishing her, he wasn't about to waste such a prime opportunity to spank her. 

Leaning forward slightly, he hooked his finger through the collar ring and pulled her to him more gently than he had earlier. "You are naturally submissive, I see."

She frowned and looked at him. "No Sir. I've seen others take this pose." Gayle hardly believed she had a submissive nature, regardless of what Mrs. Monroe told her. 

"Very good. At least you are trying. Now, I believe you know better than to argue with me. Isn't that right?"

"Yes Sir."

Being so close to his face for the first time she noticed bits of gold flakes streaking out from the pupils. Her eyes were the same, though the flakes weren't as dark as his.

Breaking her out of her thoughts, he asked, "How many spankings do you think you deserve this time?"

What a question! she thought. Too many and she wouldn't be able to sit for a week. Too few and he might add twenty just to make a point. 

Thinking a moment, she replied, "Eight, Sir."

"Only eight? Really? How did you come up with that figure?"

"You gave me five for not using your title several times, and I think arguing is much worse, to me, anyway."

"I would disagree with you on that." Locking his knees together, he ordered, "Over my thighs."

She stood and awkwardly bent over his thighs; her stomach rested on his right thigh. She had nothing to hold onto, and it was incredibly awkward. But then again she knew it wasn't meant to be comfortable. All she could do was dangle her arms.

Placing his right hand between her shoulder blades, he ran his left hand slowly over her full, soft ass cheeks. He loved feeling her muscles tighten from his touch. They felt very cool from sitting on the rock, but he had no doubt he could quickly warm them up. 

"Count them off as you did before." 

"Yes Sir."

Rubbing her flesh again for a moment, building up as much angst as he could, he brought his hand back, flattened it and slapped her cheek as if swatting a fly -- quick and deadly.

Her legs straightened, and she whined loudly. "One." 

He smacked each cheek twice in quick succession, each one harder than the one before. She gasped, dug her toes into the grass and fisted her hands at the pain. Tears filled her eyes but none escaped. 

"Twoooo. Three. Foooour. Five," she groaned through gritted teeth.

Two more solid slaps, one on each cheek finally made the tears begin to fall.

"Six. Sevvvven." Her body shook as the stinging began to burn hotter with each passing second, and she began to shake more violently as she cried, the tears pouring out.

Rubbing her cheeks again, he finished her punishment with the one remaining slap. 

"Eight," she cried out, relieved it was over. 

"Stand up." 

Doing as she was told, she kept her head down and stood up, not bothering to wipe her tears but did wipe her nose. She handled the five spankings fairly well before. That time, however, it was worse. She hadn't realized how sensitive her ass still was until she'd had the eight on top of it. And that time she knew she was wrong in defying him. She was learning how to behave rather quickly.

He patted the space beside him for her to sit down. She looked at him incredulously, but by then she'd learned her lesson not to argue. Finally wiping her eyes and taking a breath, she sat down slowly and carefully, keeping her arms in front of her, staring at her toes. 

Bessie stood and rested her chin on Gayle's knees; her eyes went back and forth as if waiting for some encouraging words. It made Gayle smile. "I'm okay, girl," she said as she scratched between the dog's ears. Her soothing the dog made her feel a little better. 

"I don't like to punish you, Ms. Boyce," he lied. "But I will continue to do so if needed."

"Yes Sir. I ... understand." 

"Good girl." Bessie wagged her tail and nestled her nose against Hamish's side. "Not you, Bessie." He patted her head then said, "She likes you. She's usually protective over me with other women."

Then I would really love to see what kind of skank you end up marrying, she thought. She was grateful he couldn't read her mind. Being so wrapped up with the conversation and the resulting punishment she hadn't noticed the sun was then hidden behind clouds.

"Sir? Can we go back inside, please? It's gotten a little chilly."

"I noticed." She wanted to die from embarrassment when she saw him staring at her hard, perky nipples. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really. Maybe just something to nibble on." 

As they walked back inside she put on the dreaded heels and followed him. Again she looked over the portraits adorning the walls. Passing one that looked much, much older than the others, she stopped and read the words, 'King Robert I, 1306 - 1329.' 

The king was in a sitting position, showing only the upper half of his body and wearing what appeared to be a one-piece iron suit with a cap on his head, holding a medieval ax. He had a long, pointy nose, small eyes and a long, bushy beard. The paints were cracking in some spots, but not enough to ruin the whole painting. 

"Sir? Is this King Robert the same as Robert the Bruce?" she asked as she turned to look at him, but he was already waiting at the banquet hall door.

"I don't have all day to wait for you," he said impatiently.

"Sorry, sorry, Sir," she said as she hurried down the hall. 

Her ass cheeks were screaming at her, and she found it easier to relax them than to keep them flexed. Walking so quickly in the heels, she found it difficult to keep her breasts from bouncing, even if they were supported underneath. But from the sadistic grin on Hamish's face she didn't think he minded.

When she caught up with him, he explained, "Yes, that's Robert the Bruce. He stayed here in the ruined part in 1316."

"Holy crap!" she exclaimed. "That is just so cool."

He mumbled something then opened the double doors of the banquet hall. Walking in, she was in such awe she was speechless. The length of the room was at least sixty feet long, thirty feet wide and three stories high. 

The first thing she noticed was the ceiling. It was definitely the grandest in the whole castle. The oak wood timber began at the top of the straight wall but then curved twice before the beams met in the center. On both sides were two sections high with smaller arched beams, and vertical boards were set in the center of each. The floor was white tile with small blue squares, and there were two very long wooden tables, each with sixteen chairs. The size of the room could easily fit seven tables with plenty of room to spare. The side walls and farthest wall were painted cream. 

As she walked further into the room, Hamish noticed she was looking at the wood paneling about ten feet in front of the foyer door; a crystal chandelier was just before the paneling. There were two more portraits on either side of the door. 

He explained, "The farthest wall is the main entrance from the foyer. The musicians would play on the second tier. It's called the Minstrel's Gallery. A court jester died after falling from the Minstrels' gallery while performing in 1529." 

"I guess no one was laughing then, huh?" Instantly she cringed inside. "Sorry. That was tasteless."

He looked down on her, and though he wasn't smiling, she could have sworn he was trying to hold back a laugh.

"If it's haunted then I'm not coming in here alone at night!"

Hamish shook his head and finally grinned.

When she turned around to look at him she noticed the other side of the room, close to the door they'd come through. It was less decorated but still beautiful. It was dome-shaped with four portraits -- two in the center and one on either side. Underneath the bottom center portrait was a small ivory fireplace. On either side of the fireplace, only slightly taller than the fireplace, were two huge tapestries that covered the entire bottom half of the wall. In the corner on the left was a grand piano. 

Turning around like she was a little girl showing off her poofy dress, she noticed that both of the side walls had four sections of two-level stained glass windows. Below each section were three-foot high columns that could be used as seating areas.

Hamish narrated the history of the windows. "The window frames are marble from Italy. The pictures in the glass on the top level are the coat-of-arms of the Duncanstones, and the lower sections are the McDougals. They were added in 1322." 

Walking towards him to leave the room, Gayle shook her head. "You have no idea how mind-blowing your castle is, Sir."

"I was born and raised here. I've never found it mind-blowing at all."

Again when he spoke she picked up on the sadness in his tone. He was becoming more mysterious to her, and since she liked to play detective, she wondered if she'd ever get the truth from him. Then again, maybe she should let it alone.

They stepped out into the gallery hallway, and he closed the door behind them. "Why don't we go to the drawing room and chat a bit."

"I would like that, Sir." As she followed him, she talked away. "America isn't as old as Europe, of course, but some damned companies want to destroy a Civil War battlefield just to put up a freakin' strip-mall. Granny and Grandad were stationed at a military base in Heidelberg, Germany in the late 50s. One thing I remember Grandad saying was that Americans take everything for granted. Forget our history if there's money to be made. The way the Germans lived was simple, but they appreciated everything they had. We want more of everything and yet it's never good enough."

"That's what I've heard." They'd reached the door and he opened it for her. "Have a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace. Would you like a glass of wine?" He asked as he went to the bar.

"Half a glass maybe. Thanks."

She stood at the couch but didn't want to sit down. When he went to her and saw her still standing he frowned. Holding his glass of whisky, he handed her the wine glass and asked, "Why aren't you sitting down? I thought your feet might be sore by now." 

"Thank you," she said as she took the glass. "They are, but um, I don't think it'd be a good idea if I sit without having anything ..."

"And that's why I brought this." He pulled out a hand towel that he must have had at the bar. 

She smiled, relieved. "Thanks." Taking the towel, she laid it over the cushion then sat down. 

"It's time for tea. Stay put and I'll be right back with some nibbles." 

After he and Bessie left the first thing she did was slip off her heels. Taking a quick sip she set the glass on the coaster and sat back. She imagined listening to a crackling fire that filled the room, and within minutes her eyelids drooped lower and lower. Fighting sleep, she lost the battle when her eyes closed tightly. 

-----------------------------------

Someone was talking about an accident on the A92 involving a lorry that had the motorway blocked. Still being half asleep, she wondered what Laurie was doing on the highway in the first place. 

Feeling blessedly warm from the blanket that Hamish must have placed over her, she realized she was lying stretched out on her side. She didn't want to -- she wanted to keep sleeping -- but forced her eyes open. First she saw the flat-screen TV where the tapestry had been over the fireplace. The tapestry was then to the right of the mantel; it must be on a moveable panel. 

Then she noticed movement on the leather recliner at the end of the couch. Hamish had set a book on the side table and grinned at her. "Hello, sleepy head. Grinning guiltily for falling asleep, she mumbled, "Hey. What time is it, Sir?" 

"It's half past six. If I bring the food back in will you fall asleep again?" 

Sitting up, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders then yawned. "No Sir. Promise." 

"Alright," he said as he stood then turned off the TV. "Be back in a tick."

She hoped he wasn't angry with her for falling asleep, though he didn't seem to be. But she was very ready to crash for the night regardless of the early time.

A few minutes later he came in with a tray. He set the teapot, cup and sugar bowl, a plate of interesting looking crustless, quarter-cut sandwiches and scones, along with small dipping bowls and a saucer on the coffee table.

"Oh, my goodness! What is all of this?"

Sitting back in his recliner, he said, "You've got cucumber, cress, egg salad and ham sandwiches. The clotted cream and raspberry jam are for the scones."

"They look delicious. I'm hungrier than I thought now that I see all of this." 

"Help yourself." 

She poured some tea and sipped that before she put a few sandwiches on the saucer. Only after she wolfed down one of each sandwich and a scone did she sip some tea. "Hmm. This is sooo good, Sir," she exclaimed. 

"I can tell," Hamish said, grinning. "So, looks like your Dad won the bet."

"Yep. He did when I took my first nap." 

When she had her fill, she finished the tea then sat back. "Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome. Would you like to see the dungeon now?" he asked wearing an evil grin. 

She almost lost what she'd just eaten. "Sir? If you don't mind, I'm afraid if you did I'd never get to sleep tonight." 

"Good choice. So, are you done eating?"

"Yes Sir. I know it's early, but would you mind if I go on to bed? I'd like to write in my journal first, though." 

"Yes. I think you've had enough for today. There is one room I would like to show you, first."

She groaned inwardly for her poor feet. "Yes Sir."

Following his and Bessie's lead, she slipped her heels back on with a moan, stood and put the plate on the tray and was about to pick it up when Hamish objected. "Let that be. I'll get it later." She looked at him confused. "Until you begin working you are my guest, of sorts."

"Oh. Okay. Sir, may I walk barefoot?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "If I say no?"

"Then I will keep them on."

"Will you argue?" he asked, testing her.

She shook her head adamantly. "Absolutely not."

She passed. "You may keep them off ... this time."

"Oh! Thank you, Sir!" 

Gayle was so tired she could hardly see straight as she followed him up the stairs and to the first door on the left. "Remember what I said about you getting a bigger, nicer bedroom?" She nodded. "This could be your room soon, if you can behave yourself."

After he opened the door she walked in and smiled widely. The walls were wallpapered a jade green with light yellow flowers. Immediately to the left was an arched doorway with a six-foot long alcove; two sitting benches were on either side. At the end was a small table in front of a nice-sized window.

She looked out the window and gaped at the view. "I can see for miles up here, Sir! I'll have a beautiful view of the garden, too."

When she turned around he was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling as broadly as she was. 

"I bet you I'll be in here by the end of the month." She had no idea why she'd said that.

"Not bloody likely. End of September."

"Sir? Is that a bet?" 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 03



"If you're up to the challenge." 

Directly across from the window was the four-poster, double bed with a comforter that was a deeper, richer jade than the walls. Walking to the end of it, she replied. "Absolutely."

"If you win, what do you want?" he asked.

"Hmm, let me think." There wasn't much to think about. She already figured out he was trying to corner her, ending with her being the loser. As she thought, she sat on the bed and admired the marble surrounding the small fireplace ten feet from the bed, beside the door. There was an ornate, gold-plated mirror over the mantel. Beside the head of the bed was the nightstand, and beside that was a tall, five-drawer dresser. On the wall opposite the bed was an armoire, a little bigger than the one she had now.

When she saw the doorway to the bathroom she went in. It was perfect for her. The wallpaper was the same as the bedroom so it flowed from room to room. To the right was the toilet beside a white, pedestal sink with a mirror on the wall. On left wall was a vanity with drawers on both sides and a plush, upholstered chair. 

The tub was the standard claw-foot, the right size for long, relaxing soaks. And the window was large, allowing lots of sun to come through. The topper for her was the small chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room.

As she came out of the room she wore a huge, confident smile. "You think you're really smart, don't you, Sir, if you don't mind me saying?"

His eyebrow shot up curiously, but he didn't seem angry. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"You've told me I'm not the one that sets the rules. So even if I do win it doesn't really matter, Sir. You're the one that will make the final decision to give me the room. You've already won." She stood waiting for his retaliation. 

Slowly his lips parted -- like the Grinch when his heart grew ten times its size -- his eyes lightened, and he laughed. "Damn. Fair do's. Caught me. You are a cheeky one, aren't you?" 

"If cheeky means smart, then yes, Sir." She grinned.

He shook his head and walked out of the door. "Head on off to bed, Ms. Boyce. I'll bring your clothes to you in the morning. Mrs. Harrower will be making us a full breakfast. She won't take kindly to you parading around like that." 

"Neither would I, Sir."



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 04



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Again, shout out to my amusing muse, Scooter Titenbum. GREAT job! Thanks for keeping me on my gouty toes.

We meet Mrs. Harrower, Hamish's cook. She has a very thick accent, and written as such. But I think y'all can keep up with understanding her.

--------------------------

SUNDAY, AUGUST 4th, 2013 

TAP. TAP. TAP. 

"It's almost seven, Ms. Boyce."

Gayle rolled over in bed and groaned, only wanting to sleep some more. She didn't want to get up to make breakfast for her family. She was so exhausted and didn't have to go to work until three.         



BANG. BANG. BANG. 

"Ms. Boyce. Get. Up."

Why are you calling me Ms. Boyce, Dad? she thought.

"I'm coming in." 

The door creaked open and Hamish entered, standing by the bed. The bed sheet was down just below her shoulders, and her hair cascaded beautifully over the pillow. He could have stood there and watched her sleep for hours, but it would be a busy day for the both of them.

"Ms. Boyce, breakfast will be ready in an hour." His voice was soft yet authoritative.

Moaning again, she rolled over and slowly opened her eyes to see Hamish staring down at her. "Mornin'," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to sleep in. Sorry Sir."

"It's alright. I'm sure you'd like a bath before you eat. Better get your arse in gear. If you were male I would tell you: "Hands off cocks and on with socks." However, I shall soon think up something suitably appropriate for you."

His cock and socks remark went in one ear and out the other, being she was still half asleep. She was never the type to wake up and bounce out of bed. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she kept the bed sheet up over her breasts and waited for him to leave so she could go to the bathroom. 

He didn't move. Instead, he said, "I highly doubt you will get clean lying where you are." 

One lesson she was learning rather quickly was that she wouldn't get away with walking around clothed in front of her boss. She sighed and slipped out of bed, not wanting to start her day off badly by arguing with him.

Walking into the hallway with Hamish behind her, she noticed the door across from her bedroom was open. All she could see as she passed was the dark wood mantel that seemed to take up half of the wall.

Yawning long and hard, her feet skidding lazily across the floor, she had just stepped through the main bathroom door when Hamish called out, "Where do you think you are going?"

Turning around quickly, trying to hide behind the doorway, she looked at him confused. 



"You'll be using my bathroom."  

"What, Sir?" she mumbled.

"I don't bathe in that bathroom." 

She furrowed her eyebrows deeply. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I will be giving you your bath."

"I ... I'm sorry. What?" Either she misheard him or she was in desperate need of a big mug of high octane coffee. 

"It looks like I will have to schedule an appointment for you with my doctor. Your hearing does seem to be deficient."

She hurried to his side and stood in front of him. "Sir, I heard you. It's just ... Why?"

"Because I want to, and I can, so I will." 

That made sense to her, in an odd way, and she was in no position to argue. Following him into his room, Bessie greeted her with a wagging tail. "Good morning to you too, girl," Gayle said as she rubbed behind the dog's ears.

Standing back up, she looked around the most incredible bedroom she'd ever seen. It was huge, three times as big as her room in Maryland. The fireplace was on the opposite wall from the door; to the left was the bed centered between two plate-glass windows. The mattress was so high there was a two-step stool to climb onto it. 



She looked around quickly as she followed him toward the bathroom door on the right. There were two bookshelves set in the wall with a couch and narrow coffee table set in front of them; a window was between the two bookshelves. Opposite the couch -- with her blouse and skirt, sans any wrinkles, were resting over the arm rest -- was a long dresser set between the walk-in closet and the fireplace. A large armoire was to the right before the bathroom.

By then her bladder had started to scream at her. Walking into the bathroom, she spotted the toilet in the right corner. "Sir, I have to go to the bathroom before, um ..."

"Please do. I'll draw the bath." Bessie followed him around until he fussed at her to lie on the small rug in front of the fireplace, which she did.

As she did her business -- although she found it nerve racking that she was actually peeing with him in the room -- she noticed the floor and ceiling appeared similar to the wood used in a sauna. On the opposite wall were a multiple towel rack and a small vanity with a chair. A small, rather plain fireplace was to the left of the door, and in the center of the room was the modern, rectangular tub that was big enough to fit two people.

Two people?! He can't be thinking we're taking a bath together! she thought in a panic. 

Wiping herself, she sat for a moment debating whether to stand because while sitting she could somewhat cover herself. When he stepped to the vanity chair and pulled down his lounge pants she quickly looked down at her feet, noticing a blister on the outside of her right big toe. 

"Are you quite finished, Ms. Boyce? I don't think a human is capable of peeing for ten minutes, although in my youth of having many ales ..." 

She tuned him out because it was way too much information to know about any boss.

When she finally looked at him, she was in instant shock at seeing him standing at the far corner of the tub, but she could clearly see every inch of the man. His shoulders and biceps were nicely muscular, in fact more so than she'd imagined when she'd first met him. His chest was tight and covered with a thin layer of darker ginger hair, though it didn't cover past his belly. She didn't dare look down any further, in case her cheeks burst into flames as she blushed from embarrassment. 

She tried to look away but the grin on his face told her she'd already been caught staring a bit too long. She felt like she was having a flashback of her idiotic 18-year old self looking at her naked boyfriend for the first time. 

Pushing herself off the seat, she flushed the toilet then washed her hands at the sink. Looking at him in the mirror as he sat down slowly. He deliberately watched the expression on her face as her eyes were glued to his semi-erect penis. 

A lump grew in the back of her throat as she took in his size. Although he was a bit shorter than her ex, he was thicker, causing her to grow anxious as to how the hell he would even fit inside her. 

"Ms. Boyce, I would think your hands are utterly clean by now."

Stop being so damned impatient, boss! she fussed mentally at him. "Yes Sir," she muttered and dried her hands. 

He turned off the water; his beard glistening with the steam that surrounded him. Taking a colorful bottle from a shelf on the outside of the tub, he poured the oil into the water.

Cautiously she stepped to the side of the bath again trying not to stare at his penis. She was about to lift her leg when he said, "Remove my collar first."   

"Oh, I forgot." She quickly took it off and placed it on the vanity.

Tapping his fingers on the ledge, she sat down beside his hand in the middle of the tub. "Hmm, the oil smells good. What is it?" 

"Lemon and eucalyptus. There are some other scents in your bathroom, plus shampoo, soaps and all your girlie bits and bobs. Mrs. Harrower picked them, of course. Turn around and put your feet in." After she did, he said, "Spread your legs." 

Swallowing hard, she put her hands on the ledge for support and parted her legs, closing her eyes. "No. Keep them open and look at me."

Being mortified, her stomach started to tingle from nerves and she grew a little nauseas. Slowly she opened her eyes, though it took her a second before she could look into his face. His eyes were gentle and soft, setting her at ease, albeit only slightly. 

Leaning forward, he rested his hands just above her knees and kneaded softly before looking over her chest. She instantly froze. Smiling, he said, "You don't have to be so self-conscious with me."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's not easy for me," she croaked.

He nodded then took the washcloth, lathered it with soap, took her right foot and               began to wash it then gingerly cleaned between her toes. She jerked her foot back when the cloth scraped over the blister.

He glared at her when he saw it. "I knew your heels were troubling your feet, but you neglected to tell me about this."

"Honestly, Sir, I didn't even notice it until I was ... peeing."

"I find that hard to believe. You will keep me posted on this."

"Yes Sir."

Cleaning it carefully, he put her foot back in the water then did the same for her other foot. Dipping the sudsy cloth into the water, he slowly ran it up each leg, lingering at the very tip of her thighs. The higher he got the shallower her breathing became until it felt as if she had stopped breathing altogether. 

Rewetting the cloth, he brushed it gently over her crotch, top to bottom then back to her clit. She gasped when the tip of his finger grazed over the nub. Stopping on that spot, he watched her reaction as he pressed the pad of his finger harder all around area surrounding the throbbing bundle of nerves. He grinned when he saw her open her mouth; whether it was because it felt good to her or she was going to protest, he didn't care. 

Whispering into her ear, he said, "You belong to me now, Ms. Boyce. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir," she mumbled.

Wrapping his fingers around the hair on the back of Gayle's neck, Hamish jerked her head, forcing her to look at him. Her hair fell softly around her face, and he brushed the strands away with his other hand, keeping the heels of his palms on her chin.

"Speak clearly. You are mine. Do. You. Understand?" 

"Yes Sir. I understand." The question was: Did she really?

Examining her face closely and gazing deeply into her eyes, he grinned then quickly cleaned and rinsed the rest of her body. With every stroke of the cloth over her skin she shuddered, not able to control her body's reaction. 

"Bend at your waist and tilt your head down."

Gayle complied, then Hamish proceeded to run the tips of his fingers through her hair from the scalp, starting at the base of her neck to her forehead several times to ensure all of the hair was pulled forward. 

"You've such beautiful, silky hair, and so thick."

"Thank you, Sir."

From the corner of her eye she saw him reach for the shower head in front of her and turn it on. "Keep your eyes closed. I don't want water to get into them."

"Yes Sir."   

He tested the warmth of the water before he brought the shower head to the back of her neck then up, letting the water drench her hair before replacing it. Grabbing the shampoo, he lathered it between the palms of his hands and massaged it into her scalp. 

If she thought his fingers felt good when he worked her tired, weary feet, his fingers then felt heavenly on her scalp. The tips of his fingers dug into her crown then reached to the back of her ears, kneading all the way to the base of her neck. His hands were gentle as he slowly worked the length of her hair, taking every opportunity to run them from her scalp to the ends. 

It ended far too soon for Gayle when Hamish ran the water through her hair, rinsing it clean. 

"Thank you, Sir. That felt wonderful."   

"It was entirely my pleasure. Now slip in."

Only after he leaned back against the end of the tub did she sit down between his knees, trying hard not to let any water spill over the edges. Not wanting to accidentally sit on his penis, she made sure to sit down at a safe distance. 

"Tilt your head back a bit."

When she did, he placed his fingers on the top of her forehead and brushed her hair back, gathering it all away from her face. "Much better. Lean forward."

She thought to herself how bossy he was, but then again he was her boss. She brought her arms forward and rested her elbows on her knees. The water splashed around her as he lathered the washcloth again, running the warm, sudsy cloth slowly over her back, occasionally scraping his fingernails against her skin. The damned goose pimples erupted all over her body, and her nipples stood at attention. 

Stop. Stop! Stop, damn it! Stop feeling like this! she screamed at her body.

Her thoughts were forgotten when he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her gently against his chest before straightening his legs, though she kept her head forward. He then brought his arms over her shoulders and manipulated a wash cloth until it was foamy. He leaned back slightly and first cleaned her shoulders and forearms, though he didn't linger. 

Apparently there was a reason why. "Relax back into me," he said softly. She instantly tensed but did so. "Rest your head on me."

Complying, though still tense, she clenched her hands tightly and closed her eyes. She shivered when he placed his chin on her shoulder. His beard tickled her flesh, but she didn't laugh; it was far from funny. Slipping his arms around her waist he unhurriedly and softly washed her front, starting from her belly button and moving up to her breastbone. Without rinsing he wiped each breast with the cloth. 

"Would you relax?" he huffed.

"I'm ... sorry, Sir. I'm trying."

Placing his lips in the crook of her neck, he cupped her moistened breasts and squeezed ever so slightly just to get a reaction from her. It was immediate. She inhaled sharply and brought her hands to his wrists. 

"Remove them. Now," he ordered. 

She hesitated again from panic at the invasion of her body. He removed one hand from her and lightly tapped her face. "I said remove your hands!"

Her body shook from his frightening words and his actions. "I'm sorry, Sir," she replied, her voice quivering. She reluctantly placed the hands on top of her thighs.

"You bloody well don't show it." 

She forced herself to relax, but it wasn't easy. He latched both hands back onto her breasts and worked them expertly. Her nipples were then extremely sensitive to his touch as his flat palms brushed the very tip of her nubs. She closed her eyes tight when he pinched them, delicately at first but with increasing strength as he twisted each one simultaneously.

"S ... Sir, stop, pleeease," she begged.                                                                                                                                                  

His voice rumbled in her ear, "Does that feel good?" 

"Yyyesss Sir," she breathed heavily.

"Then no." He let go of one breast then slid it down to her crotch. "Spread your legs."

She could have died inside when he said that. Tentatively she did until her knees touched his, but she didn't pull them away for fear of another slap on the cheek; it hadn't hurt, but it was a shock to her system just the same. 

"This belongs to me," he said when the tip of his finger grazed the hood of her clit, causing her to gasp, and she pressed her head harder against his collarbone. His middle finger slid down an inch before he brought it back up, burying it in the folds of her clit. 

He maneuvered his finger up and down several times before moving it back and forth, gradually pressing harder and harder. Her breathing became shallow as her heart raced; her mouth hung open as his finger moved down to her entrance and rubbed it around. 

"Your pussy is mine to do as I wish," he spoke into her ear, his warmth breath flowing over the crook of her neck.

She wanted to protest but something pressed against the tip of the crack of her ass as he stretched his arm further to slip the tip of his finger inside of her then pushed in deeper. Before she could react to his protruding cock pressing into her, he slid another finger inside and tapped it on the top of her pussy wall several times. 

"Only I have the power to make you come. Do you understand?"

"Yesssss Siiiiir," she sighed.

She bit her bottom lip from wanting to scream for him to stop, but since he denied her first request she knew he would deny her again. She tried to picture herself anywhere else but here to keep her mind off of what he was doing, but it was no use. 

Her heart pounded and her whole body was on fire. Her face was flushed, bright red, she was sure. 

Mumbling incoherently as he switched from hooking his fingers over her g-spot to penetrating her, her breathing became heavier and faster; she was barely able to catch her breath. All the while he kept pinching and twisting her nipple at a quicker pace.

Seconds later, or it could have been hours for all she knew, she pressed her feet against the end of the tub and pushed down hard. She didn't know how much longer she could hold off coming when he commanded, "Come, NOW!"   

It took a moment before she allowed herself to feel everything at its fullest. She let go as her body trembled and she allowed her orgasm to surge through her. Whimpering, she didn't care how loud she got. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel her own body throbbing against Hamish's chest when he pulled her close to him. 

A few moments later, enough time to allow her to gain control of herself, he affectionately rubbed her stomach with his thumbs while she tried to catch her breath. "I hope you enjoyed that. It'll be the last for you for a while -- maybe, or maybe not."

"Hmm?" she muttered. "What?"    

Her body shook when he chuckled. "You are not to touch yourself for pleasure, and most definitely you will not orgasm. Those are mine to oversee and control. Only I will give them to you. It might be tomorrow, it might be a week. But it will be my decision."

I haven't had an orgasm in over four years. Hell, I don't even think my ex-prick ever gave me one, she thought.                                                     

"Four years?!" Hamish exclaimed. "You've never ..."

She was horrified because she hadn't realized she'd said it out loud. "Sir, I really don't want to talk about my ex, if you don't mind."                                                                                                             

"I do mind, and we will talk about it," he said sternly. "Now skedaddle on out of here, dry yourself off and dress your toe. Everything is under the sink in your bathroom. Then get dressed. It's time to eat brekkie." 

-----------------------------------

"Good morning, nana kitchen," Hamish said cheerily as he and Gayle walked into the cooking area. He noticed the expression on Gayle's face and explained, "The only place I ever see her is in the kitchen."

The incredible smell of bacon filled the room, and her stomach growled. She felt like she hadn't eaten a full meal in weeks.

Again wearing no bra under her blouse, Gayle tried to hide behind Hamish as she looked at Mrs. Harrower. She was standing by the counter pressing a paper towel against a plate. She was a short, heavy-set woman and appeared to be in her mid-60s with long, braided silver-white hair.

"Weel, it's nae a guid morn. It's abit time ye decided tae shaw up. Th' tomatoes an' mushrooms ur nae longer hot," she mumbled unhappily.

Mrs. Harrower talked much too fast for Gayle to understand what she said; all she understood were the tomatoes and mushrooms were cold. 

"Thank goodness I have a microwave, then." He kissed her on her cheek, but she only fussed at him tenderly. Ignoring her, he said, "I'd like you to meet Gayle Boyce, the new maid." 

When the woman turned to face her, she saw she had a very kind, beautiful face with big, dark brown eyes. Her smile was very welcoming.

Gayle became distracted when Bessie sat at Gayle's feet, and she found it curious how protective the dog was becoming toward her, almost as if the dog thought her Master's human was in trouble. She soon realized that wasn't the puppy's intent when she licked her lips waiting for a treat from the cook. 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 04



"Ye gie naethin' thes morn, pup. I'll sae ye some beef frae tomorrow's mince 'an tatties." 

That time Gayle understood even less that Mrs. Harrower said.

"Come haur. Ah willnae bite, lass" 

Smiling, Gayle approached her and put out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

The cook replied, though her voice was light, "Dornt ye mess up mah scullery, yoong quine. Ah keep a tidy scullery an' want it tae bide 'at way." She then winked and grinned.

"I ... I'm sorry?" Gayle asked. She looked at Hamish pleading for him to translate. She felt like the biggest idiot in the world. 

Thankfully he understood her plight and shook his head. "It's quite alright. I don't listen to her either."

"Cheeky beggar!" Mrs. Harrower exclaimed.

"Ignore everything she says, Ms. Boyce."

Seriously, Gayle said, "Sir, if I do that I'm sure I'll be ... sacked, is it, by next weekend." Then she smiled to let him know she was teasing him. The problem was she wasn't sure if she had gone too far.            

Mrs. Harrower cackled with the most melodic laugh Gayle had ever heard. Relieved when Hamish chuckled, she finally felt at ease.               

"This ole' bonnie hen has been like my second mother. I would have starved to death if I didn't have her." 

Gayle simply smiled, trying to keep her thoughts of her own mother at bay. Though she didn't break down, moisture filled her eyes.

Putting her hand on Hamish's forearm, Mrs. Harrower said, "Aye, he's loch th' son Ah ne'er wanted. Ah ken hoo yer boss lik his eggs, but hoo dae want your eggs, lass?" 

That time she spoke slower, and she understood the question. "Sunny side up, please, ma'am."

"Whit on ma Pa's grave is sunny side up? Whaur ur ye frae, lass? Cornwall?"

Gayle knew Cornwall was in Western England and realized Mrs. Harrower thought she was British. It only then dawned on her that she must have been picking up a little of Hamish's accent. 

"No ma'am. I'm from Maryland, outside Washington, D.C. The eggs are fried with the yolk runny in the middle."               

"Ye puir hin'. Aw reit. Comin' reit up. Hammy wa dornt ye reheat th' vegetables while Ah gie th' eggs oan. Gayle, can ye pit th' toest an' jams oan th' table." 

"I'll be happy to," Gayle replied while stifling a giggle. Yes, Hammy indeed, she thought.

A few minutes later the three sat down to plates full of eggs, bacon, steamed mushrooms and grilled tomatoes and sausage, but the sausage had a dark brown-reddish color. Aside from that, there was toast and a bowl of yogurt, as well as a fruit bowl with strawberries, bananas, plums and apples.

Gayle noted, "There's enough here to feed an army. Everything looks great."

"'en yoo'd better eat afair they come an' tak' it aw."

Another blank look from Gayle prompted Hamish to translate again. "Eat it before Bessie does."

"Ah, got it." Gayle chuckled. 

When Gayle took a bite of the sausage, at first it tasted like hamburger. But seconds later the meat bit back and she couldn't control her disgusted facial expression. She quickly grabbed the glass of orange juice and downed half of it. 

Both Mrs. Harrower and Hamish burst into a fit of laughter, which embarrassed the hell out of her. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. What kind of sausage is this?" Gayle asked.

"It isn't sausage as you'd call it. It's black pudding. You don't like it?" Hamish said, a smirk on his face.

"Um, sorry, but not really."

"It's a type of sausage made with pig's blood and oatmeal cooked with --" 

"Please, Sir, I don't think I want to know anything else."

The two laughed again then emptied their plates in a matter of minutes. 

Mrs. Harrower said, "Hamish tells me I'll be showin' ye the ropes Tysday."

"Yes ma'am. He's already showed me around some yesterday, but I'm sure I'll still get lost. It's all very intimidating."

"Dornt worry yer bonnie wee heed. Ah thooght th' sam. 'Tis a reet gud home. Aam sure yoo'll be fine workin' haur."

She nodded then, feeling brave, she took a bite of toast she'd spread with an unknown jam. "Hmm, this is delicious. What kind of jam is this?" 

"Black currant," Hamish answered. 

"I'll have to get some to take home. Dad will love this. Everything was wonderful, Mrs. Harrower, except for the blood pudding thing." Gayle smiled so Mrs. Harrower wouldn't be offended. "Thank you."

"Yoo're welcome, an' jist call me Jessie, hen."

"Jessieann? That's a pretty name."

The cook laughed again. "Jus' Jessie."

Bessie, on hearing her name, instantly perked up -- someone had food!

"No, Bessie, not you. She said Jessie. I swear that bloody dog thinks she's human sometimes," Hamish grumbled light-heartedly.

Bessie, of course, just wagged her tail even harder now that she was the center of attention. 

"Ah pick mah ain fruits an' jar and preserve them myself. Ah also preserve raspberries, plums and gooseberries Ah seel them at th' weekend markit."

Thinking Jessie said something about preserving fruits herself, Gayle looked at Hamish expectantly. "September is the best time to go to the market," he told her. "We might make it." 

He didn't have to explain the sentence further. She understood it to be, 'I might take you if you behave yourself.' She nodded with a smile.

After Gayle had another cup of coffee, Mrs. Harrower stood and took their plates. "No, no. Let me help you," Gayle protested. 

"Thenk ye lass," she said as she walked toward the sink.

Gayle caught Hamish looking at her with pride when he smiled at her like he'd never smiled at her before. Standing, he said, "While you two ladies do ... women stuff, I'll be in my library. Ms. Boyce, please meet me there when you're finished."

Hamish went to Mrs. Harrower at the sink. Before he knew what happened, Jessie swiftly back handed his forearm. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he rubbed his arm.

"An' wi' 'at comment, Hamish, ye hae just set th' woman's rights movement back a hunder' years."

Kissing her cheek, he said, "Thank you for a lovely meal, splendid as usual. You should join us for dinner sometime. I'm sure Ms. Boyce has some wonderful American Southern cooking she would love to share."

"Yer flirtin' wulnae make up fur 'at comment, cheil."

"Can't blame a lad for trying," he grinned and left.

Gayle's heart sank when he mentioned she was to cook for them both. She hadn't tasted anything else the cook had made, but even with fresh ingredients from the garden she was disheartened to realize her cooking would never be up to par. She made a mental note to ask Jessie to teach her some recipes to make for Hamish.

Almost half an hour later, the dishes all done and Mrs. Harrower on her way home, Gayle headed to Hamish's library and stood beside a chair in front of the desk. He was sitting behind it, and when he saw her, he went back to his paperwork. His voice changed from the charmer in the kitchen back to the aloof, disdainful arrogance it had always been.

Her head down, he directed, "Remove your clothing, Ms. Boyce." 

"Yes Sir." 

Her head still bowed, she took a deep breath and unbuttoned her blouse just as slowly as she did in the kitchen the day before then laid it over the back of the chair. Stepping out of the skirt, she laid that in the seat. Standing tall, her shoulders straight and her head held high, she held her wrists behind her back but kept her chin up.

Gayle stood for only a second before the clock dinged once and chimed nine times; she counted each one. He had yet to acknowledge her. She wanted to ask him if there was anything she could do for him, but she'd only be asking for trouble. 

Then she thought to ask if she could sit. Again, that would be disastrous. So she simply stayed where she was, silent and still. 

A few minutes passed and her blister was beginning to throb. Asking to take her heels off would be the death of her.

Then the clock dinged once, indicating fifteen minutes had gone by. "Sit," he commanded, set aside the papers and intertwined his fingers, glowering at her. Once she was seated, he asked, "How good is your memory, Ms. Boyce?"

She frowned, wondering what an odd question it was. "I, um, I'd say pretty good, Sir."

"I disagree. How many personal belongings were you permitted to bring with you, which by the way, was clearly stated in the contract?"                      

Oh, fuck! she bemoaned. Here it comes! My blood is going to spill, I just know it. Her day had started off great, and in just under two hours she was in line to get another punishment. 

"Two, Sir."

"Then would you mind explaining to me why you brought three?" 

Double fuck, she cursed to herself. There was nothing she could say to get out of the inferno she'd thrown herself into. "I ... I can't, Sir."

"Do you think I pulled that requirement out of my arse so you could intentionally defy me?" From his first word, his voice had risen gradually in anger. 

"Wha'? No! No Sir."

"Well, then, I want you to go upstairs and bring me your journal, family photo and the book." 

She couldn't move. All she wanted to do was to scream at him to please let her keep the photo. But she knew she had screwed up, and she wouldn't even bother arguing with him.

"FIVE!" 

He's counting?! Oh, hell! she cursed then ran out of the room, raced upstairs, grabbed the items and returned to the same spot. Her breathing was heavy, and she felt a thickness on the inside of her heel. She supposed the bandage had shifted from the blister.

He tapped the surface of the desk where there was ample room for her possessions -- the only personal belongings she had in the world to hold on to. Reluctantly, and internally angry with him, she did then stepped back.

He waited a moment before he said, "In less than two days you have disobeyed me twice, and you hadn't even gotten here yet. That is not an exemplary record by any means. In the meantime, I will keep these until Saturday, after you have learned your lesson, hopefully, when you receive your punishment Friday night."

Gayle was seething inside, her body shook and tears brimmed in her eyes. "Yes Sir," she croaked. 

"Come here," he ordered and swiveled his chair to the right. 

Ashamed, she went to him and stood a foot away. She kept her head down so she wouldn't have to look him in his face. 

"Get on your knees."                               

Her body trembled even harder at what she thought he wanted from her. Doing so, the tears trickled down her cheeks and landed on the area rug. 

"Save your damned tears. They will not work on me," he snapped.

Hooking his forefinger through the collar ring he pulled her forward, which he apparently loved to do, which forced her upper body to slant forward uncomfortably. Her arms flew out to stop her forward motion, but she caught herself and kept them stiffly at her side.

"Scoot closer." She did, giving her knees a mild rug burn, until her breasts almost touched his knees. Narrowing his eyes at her, he said, "Look at me." 

She sniffled as she raised her head and tried to look at him, but she couldn't see him through the tears. Her ears swooshed as her heart began to race.

"It's time to begin your training with an exercise. There are eight poses you will assume when I command you. You will follow my orders immediately. Do you understand the word immediate?" His tone was then sadistic.

She was scared shitless at that point. "Yes Sir." Her voice quivered in fear.

"What does that mean to you?"

"I will not hesitate, Sir."

"You will not what?"

"I won't hesitate, Sir," she repeated.   

"Good. I didn't think that would be difficult to understand." 

He rolled the chair away then circled her slowly, his gaze never straying from her face. Standing behind her, he said, "Put your ass on the heels of your feet, back straight, knees apart twelve inches; your hands on your thighs, palms up and head down. You will not look at me until I say so."

"Yes Sir," she replied, quickly doing as she was told.

Shaking his head, he put his hand flat on the small of her back and the other on her shoulder, straightening her upper torso. "You have horrible posture. I will correct that for you over time. Now, when I say kneel you are to promptly get in this same position at my feet." 

"Yes Sir." 

Taking a strong, firm hold of her shoulders, he effortlessly pulled her up, but with her heels she had to bend at the waist for a second. 

"Spread your legs twelve inches, shoulders back, chest out, hands behind your back and clasp them together and look forward. Hold your body rigid." 

After she did, he had to take her hands and push them up because they were covering her ass, which he wanted easy access to. Only then was he satisfied. He then noticed she was putting most of her weight on her left leg. She wiped her cheeks of her tears, though they were no longer falling, not thinking twice about the repercussion. 

He stepped in front of her and narrowed his eyes. "When I say 'stand at ease,' you are to stand as you are now. You will not move. If you need something you ask permission."

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"This position is used by the army when on the parade ground prior to being given a command. It can be held for long periods of time, and it will be the position you will always adopt when awaiting instruction. Is that perfectly clear?" 

After she nodded, he circled his hand on each cheek, wanting to keep her on edge, have her keep wondering if he would spank her or not. He succeeded when she inhaled sharply and tightened her cheeks.

"How is your foot?" he asked inches from her ear. His hot breath on her neck and shoulder made the dreaded goose bumps appear.

"Sir, it's bleeding, I think, Sir."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Yes Sir."

"When?"

She had no idea, but she had to think quickly. "Whhh ... When you weren't so angry, Sir."

He shook his head. "Sit in my chair and remove your heels, and keep your damned blood off of my carpet."  

"Yes Sir."         

After she did, she watched him walk to a bookshelf and hit a button on the bottom of a shelf. He stepped back as the panel swung open revealing a small bathroom. 

A moment later he returned, got down on one knee and laid a few items beside him. Tearing open an alcohol wipe package, he swept the pad over the torn and wet blister; Gayle winced and whined as it burned. 

He wanted to berate her for letting the blister get as bad as it had, but he thought the sting would be lesson enough. He spread some ointment on it then wrapped it tightly.       

Standing, he said, "Tell me right away if you are in pain. I will not be angry." Indeed, his voice had become softer. "You may keep your heels off for the rest of the day."                       

"Yes Sir. I will. Thank you."

Hamish walked around his desk to one of the leather chairs, turned it around facing away from Gayle and sat on the edge of the seat. She stared at the back of his head for a moment wondering if she should go to him or stay as she was. Deciding on the latter, she straightened her back and waited. 

A few minutes later he called out, "Kneel."

Obeying his command, she went to him and knelt at his feet in the correct position. It felt like forever before he leaned forward, grabbed her cheeks tenderly and tilted her head up gently. "I am quite pleased."

She smiled proudly. "Thank you, Sir."

"Stand at ease."

Getting up, she stood straight and rigidly, staring over his head, hands held in the small of her back. "Turn around." She did, although slowly. 

When he saw her hands where he wanted them he smiled. Putting his hands on her hips, he lost his smile when she tensed. Turning her around, his eyes grazed over her breasts and was amused at seeing her nipples were hard.

"Stand easy." She was confused over what to do. "Hold the same position but less tightly. Those are the correct military terms and positions taught when I was in the CCF at school." 

"CCF, Sir?"

"Combined Cadet Force for teaching youngsters about the military. Perhaps I might build an assault course for you," he chuckled.

Her shudder and raised eyebrow gave him all the answer needed to that idea. 

"Those three poses will be for outside the bedroom. These next will be strictly for the bedroom or in the dungeon. When I give you these commands you will have your bum toward me."

She nodded. "Yes Sir."

He stood and pushed the chairs aside to have plenty of room for the next stage, which he was really looking forward to seeing. "Let's see if you can figure this one out. 'All fours.'"

Easy enough, you condescending ass, she thought. Getting on her knees, she put her hands flat on the rug in front of her then pushed herself up on her tip toes, knees locked together, ass straight in the air and at the perfect height for Hamish to do whatever he wished.

He grinned wickedly. Seeing her full breasts hanging to the floor made him think. "Hmm. I think there are now nine poses. Nice try, but no." 



Gayle then felt like the ass. 

"Keep your hands on the rug but get back on your knees and a foot apart, with your ass out and keep your back straight, eyes forward." 

Looking down on her, he couldn't resist tracing his fingernails down her back. She sighed loudly and arched her back as he reached the curve. Images of several toys he knew would drive her crazy flashed through his mind. 

"Now, 'on arms' -- put your elbows on the carpet, palms of your hands flat." After she got in the position, he said, "Very good. When I say 'down' you are to press your breasts to the carpet, grip your ankles and tilt your hips up as high as your ass will go." 

This was a little more uncomfortable for her, but she managed. He stood above her admiring his new submissive in a whole new light. Smiling, he bent over and ran his hand softly from her ankle to the inside of her thigh. Pushing her body forward, she moaned as the carpet fibers dug into her responsive nipples. 

Standing between her feet, he bent over and massaged her ass cheeks rather roughly for a moment before spreading her cheeks apart with his thumbs. 

She groaned loudly at being so exposed to him. Trying to get past her fear, she couldn't do it. "Sir?! Please don'" she begged.

He tsk'd and shook his head. "And you were doing so well. This would be the perfect time for this. All fours."

She wanted everything to end at that moment so she could run upstairs and die from embarrassment. Although she was highly humiliated, she got up on her knees and hands, looking forward, concentrating on the fireplace.   

Reaching inside his pocket out of her line of sight, Hamish pulled out a small butt plug and lube. "You will insert this every morning before you begin work and only remove it for a bowel movement. It will remain in until I remove it." 

She had no idea what he was talking about. It had something to do with her butt, she knew that much. But remove it when she -- oh, NO! she screamed to herself. Her body shook in fear and instantly tensed every muscle in her body; tears brimmed in her eyes. 

Panicked, she cried out, "STOP, Sir! No, please!" 

He was startled but allowed her a moment. "Kneel." After she settled in front of him, he asked, "What's wrong?" 

"I'm sorry. It's, um ..."

"You've not done anal," he guessed. 

She shook her head. "I tried, once, but ..."

He was thoughtful for a moment. "First off, you did well in telling me to stop. We will discuss your safe word and levels of comfort later today. Secondly, I am starting with the small butt plug." Showing the narrow rubber plug to her, his voice was gentle and not angry at all. "You have to trust me, Gayle. But I understand your trepidation. We agreed to talk about what your hard limits will be. What frightens you so much?"

"It's ... not very hygienic, not to mention painful. When my ex tried I was in tears, it hurt so much. Maybe I should have said amber," she chortled and wiped her cheeks from the few tears that escaped.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 04



"You did the right thing calling out red. The reason why I'll be using this plug is to gradually prepare you. The sizes will increase but over many weeks so as not to cause you any pain."

Letting his words sink in, she asked, "But what if ... I'm ... full."

"Lass, nothing you can say will embarrass me. Speak your mind." She nodded. "If you are constipated I will administer an enema."

Her eyes flew open, but he smiled re-assuredly. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Now, what I will do is use plenty of lubricant and insert it slowly. Talk to me if you need me to slow down. But the most important thing you need to understand is that you need to relax your bum muscles."

"Yes Sir." 

He brushed hair away from her face, looking at her face sympathetically. "I promised you I won't hurt you, and I won't. Let's do something that'll be easier for you." 

He stood up and reached down for her hand, which she took. She watched him as he cleared a spot on his desk. "Lie on the desk, feet flat on the floor and relax your arms onto the desk top."

Even though he took the time to explain what he would be doing, she was less tense but still nervous. "Thank you, Sir."

Doing as she was told, she was much more comfortable in that position than she was on the rug. He stood behind and rubbed his hand over each cheek, loving how soft and plump they were. Bringing his hand back, he spanked her hard.

"OW! Sir, what was that for?!" she yelped. 

"No reason. I just like spanking you."

"Why can't you like giving candy?" she grumbled, her voice light. 

He laughed then promptly spanked her again. "Here's a Snickers Bar."

She gasped at the pain but wore a small smile.      

"Relax and take a deep breath."

When she did, she closed her eyes tightly and fisted her hands. After he lubed the plug sufficiently, he used one hand to spread her cheeks and the other to carefully insert it. He was very aware of every reaction she gave to make it was as easy on her as possible. She only moaned once or twice but didn't call out. 

Pleased she was able to push past it, he said, "Stand at ease."

She slowly stood and got in the correct position. Her face contorted at the discomfort and kept tightening the muscles to make sure it wouldn't fall out.

He had to stifle a laugh at her facial expression and the fidgeting of her hips. "How is it?"

"It's not bad, Sir. Thank you for ... understanding."

"Good. I knew it wouldn't be. Just two more positions and we're done. First off, 'toes' is simply bending over, grasping your ankles, legs kept twelve inches apart." 



She nodded. "Lie on the carpet on your back, feet toward me." 

"Yes Sir." She took his instruction, albeit nervously.

"'Diaper' is my favorite, personally," he started; his voice was almost menacing.

"Bring your knees up and part them as far as they will go and grasp your ankles from underneath."

She looked up at him hesitantly, swallowed hard then did so. She'd never felt so vulnerable since she'd arrived in Scotland. 

"Hmm. Lovely -- absolutely fucking lovely," he cooed.

Being as exposed as she was, she wanted to shrivel up and die, but for some reason she wasn't insulted by his words. Her mind was too preoccupied at the awkward position, yet she faltered to say anything. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to keep her face neutral.

"What is it?" he asked, picking up on her pensiveness.

"Nothing, Sir," she replied, not looking at him.

He shook his head and knelt beside her hip. "Did I offend you again?"

"No, no, Sir. Everything is just so ... overwhelming." It was incredibly awkward for her to have a conversation in this position. "May I sit up, Sir?" 

Taking her hand, he gently pulled her up until she was in a comfortable position. "I understand that. Gayle, I never promised you everything would be easy. But you have to talk to me. I will not tolerate any misunderstanding between us."

She nodded, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Not necessary. But anything I ask of you will not harm you." 

She wanted to believe him, and he hadn't really hurt her -- yet. Gathering the courage to look him in his eyes, she replied, "Please be patient with me, Sir?"

Pushing aside her hair that had fallen over her right breast so he could get a better view of her voluptuous mounds, he smiled. "I've never had the reputation as being a patient man, Ms. Boyce, but as long as you try, then so will I."

She returned his smile. "Thank you." 

"Let me take you down to the Tithe Gardens." 

A few minutes later, Hamish and Gayle were walking up on the gardens and the barn. She was warm enough being in the sun, but it was just chilly enough to keep her nipples perky and hard. It did not go unnoticed by Hamish. 

The grass felt good under her feet, being that she mostly went barefoot around the house since she was a kid. The butt plug, however, made it difficult to walk. Every step she took she envisioned it falling out and being utterly humiliated. But fortunately it felt like it wouldn't budge. 

Her attention then went to the light stone blocks of the barn ruins, which was the size of a football field. The far wall was still standing, two windows on the top half revealed it was once two levels; the other end was gone. 

Two shorter, irregular walls were on one side, both with dome-shaped openings separated by nothing but grass, while the far side had walls about five feet high. The reflection of the walls on the same colored stone blocks surrounding the pond was breath-taking. 

Again, Hodges did a wonderful job with the landscaping. Flowers and plants bloomed everywhere, except in the bowels of the once-was-a-barn, where it was thick, luscious grass. The scent of the flowers assaulted her nose, seemingly melting away any apprehension she had being in a foreign country.

Gayle's gaze seemed to cloud over as she talked. "You know, I could see myself playing here as a kid. Dad was big on keeping us off the computer and video games except for an hour a day, maybe longer on the weekend or when we were sick. We'd all kick the soccer ball in the backyard, though Catelyn had a natural talent. Mom would always fuss when I'd go barefoot, and I never listened to her until I stepped on a yellow jacket. Damn, it hurt like hell. It swelled up past my ankle and I had to ..." 

Just as they casually walked between the pond and the barn she looked up at him, having had the feeling he was glowering over her. "Sorry for rambling."

He smiled faintly. "You weren't rambling. I enjoy hearing your stories." Looking up, he placed his hand between her shoulder blades. "There's a little spot we can sit, if you can." He emphasized the word 'if.' 

Once they sat and she found a comfortable position, he continued. "Since you're reminiscing, I'd like to know more about you."

She wasn't used to giving a stranger her whole life's story, but then again she was stuck with him for six months. "There's nothing much to tell, really. Pretty normal. Dad's from Raleigh, North Carolina, the bible belt of the south, so I was raised Southern Baptist. His grandmother was a lay minister, and his brother was a pastor until he retired."

"So, you are pretty religious?"

"I am, but I've never found a church that didn't have cliques. So high school-ish. You?"

"I believe in something, just not sure what."

"Aliens?" she teased.

He chuckled. "Yes. All those crop circles had to have come from somewhere."

"You really believe that?"

"Hell, no," he replied in astonishment. "I didn't take you for being gullible."

"I'm not!" Then she realized he was teasing her. "It's just some bored physics students playing in fields."

"Oh, no, lass. Not just uni students. One of my neighbors did an intricate pattern in a field in five hours. It was all over the news, but he never let on. It was brilliant, actually."

She smiled. 

"You've mentioned your ex a few times. Have you had many boyfriends?"

Nervously she ran her toes through the grass and looked off into the distance. She knew the sensitive conversation was coming, but she hoped he would have put it off longer than he had.             

"I, um ... One was enough."

He saw how awkward she held her body, as she had put her hands on the stone she sat on and her knuckles instantly turned white; the tension on her face was tight and desolate. 

"Stand at ease," he instructed, spreading his knees. Obediently she stood in front of him, and he smiled, very pleased. "Good girl." 

She wasn't sure how to take a compliment as if he was praising Bessie, but his voice was soft. She decided it wasn't so bad.

"Look at me." She complied. "I am now going to teach you another slave position. Sit on my left thigh, legs over my right, lean into me and rest your head on my shoulder."

She looked at him hesitantly but soon enough she was sitting in his lap, her hands clasped tightly against her chest. He wrapped his left arm behind her, took her left hand and gently placed her palm against his chest. He then placed his other hand on her hip.

"This is what I call 'the snuggle.' Think you can master this?" He didn't ask sarcastically; it was playful.

She exhaled through her nose, almost in a laugh. "It will take a lot of practice. You might have to show me several times." Why the fuck did I just say that?! she screamed at herself.

"I thought it would be difficult for you," he retorted with a small smile.

For some odd reason, she liked this position. It was awkward, yes, being held like this by a boss. But then again, she felt and protected. The past year had been hell for her, and feeling secure was a welcomed and much missed undertaking.

The truth was, Hamish liked holding her like this as well. Only on rare occasions would he snuggle with a woman. He'd never wanted to hold anyone as much as he wanted to hold Gayle. 

Brushing her hair up and over her shoulder, he scraped his thumb over her skin. Whether his touch was intentional or not, a shiver went through her; her nipples instantly hardened even further. She was mortified when she felt them press against his shirt.    

"Why are you so tense, little fawn?" 

Fawn? What?! she gasped. Don't go there, boss! "My ex wasn't a cuddler, Sir," she replied.

"It sounds like he didn't take very good care of you."

"He didn't." She left it at that.

"What a fool." He ran his large, warm hand over her shoulder and down her arm slowly and affectionately. The sentiment was touching, but it unnerved her a little. "How long were you with him?"

"Eight months. I was seventeen when we started dating."

"Hmm. Did you love him?"

"He was nice enough and treated me with respect. We had some good times and he was fun, but I always felt ... a disconnect between us. Was I in love with him? I'd have to say no."

"Why did you break up?"

No, no, don't go there, please! she thought. Taking a deep breath to gather her words, she replied, "When I started college he went to William and Mary in Williamsburg, and I thought I could handle seeing him on most weekends and breaks."

"You thought?"

"Yeah. I was stupid like that then. When I went down one weekend to surprise him, turned out he surprised me."

"Let me guess -- another girl?"  

"Well, yes and no."

He pulled his head back sharply and looked down over her face. "What does that mean?"

"I caught him in bed with his roommate, his male roommate, doing, um, stuff. The signs were there but I guess I just missed them. There was plenty of oral, but for him, never me. The sex was cold and not affectionate at all." Her voice turned angry, and he tightened his fingers on her waist. 

"It felt like I was just going through the motions. All he wanted was anal, which I couldn't do. The one time I gave in it hurt so bad that I swore it'd never happen again. And it didn't. It started to go downhill from there."

"Gayle, did he penetrate your vagina?"

She was surprised and somewhat relieved that he'd asked the way he did. She took no offense to the question, since it wasn't as blunt and crass when he asked if she was a virgin.  

"A few times. He was pretty small, though."

"Did you bleed when he did?" She shook her head. "Lass, you are still a virgin," he pointed out.

"But I did have an orgasm, I think. I mean, the one this morning was ... new." He laughed; she blushed. "God!" she exclaimed as she pushed herself back a little and looked at him. "Why in the hell didn't I even realize that? Idiot!"

"Stop, will you? It's not an issue." 

She frowned. "Then why did you ask me at the restaurant?"              

"So I would know whether to be easy with you the first time."

"Oh." She didn't buy his explanation, but it did make sense.

Out of the blue he stood up, which off-set her balance to such a degree she threw her arms around his neck so she wouldn't fall; a little yelp escaped between clenched teeth. He chuckled and set her on her feet. 

Walking back to the house, he asked, "Because you were honest with me, I'll leave it up to you whether to visit my dungeon now or later this afternoon. Which would you prefer?"

She could see herself tripping over her feet again. "It depends what you are going to do with me."

"Ah. Conditions, I see. Well, here's the thing: I never quite know what I'll do until I'm in the moment. So you'll just have to take a chance."     

"Crap. That was no help," she snickered. "I think I'd rather get it over with now, Sir."

He smiled. "A woman after my own heart. I'm starting to like you already."



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 05



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Note to MasterfulJim....can you pick out the phrase you've used repeatedly on your comments on Hilly's story? I'll leave you Heather in my will.

Note from Scooter Titenbum: Per my comment, Hamish is not looking for a Scottish wife...any wife will do. He's a man – he doesn't care! The last sentence is from me.

I hope y'all like! And thanks for the comments...dubs ya!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 

CHAPTER FIVE 

 Gayle's heart was pounding and her stomach churned as they entered the front door and she followed Hamish to the dreaded room, the dungeon. Although it hadn't felt cold in the castle when she'd left, now, however, she was chilled to the bone.  

 "Grasp the railing, Ms. Boyce," Hamish told her as they descended the stairs. "It gets quite slick."



As soon as her bare feet hit the cold, damp stone step, she grabbed the railing for support. Lit by small sconces halfway up the walls, she could see that the tapered stairs were very narrow and very tightly curved, though smooth. 

At the bottom step, Hamish flipped a switch illuminating the space. She finally looked up to see him scrutinizing her face closely as her eyes scanned the room. It was much colder in this hell, as she thought of it. She crossed her arms tightly around her.

Immediately to her left was a narrow door, apparently the wine cellar. Looking over the room, it was bigger than she'd thought it would be at about15'x25.' The walls were uneven stones with scattered holes; jutting out were metal hooks and rings in various widths and sizes. She didn't dare ask him what they were for.

Then she saw in the corner an Iron Maiden. "Oh, my god!" she exclaimed as she walked toward it. Metal spikes were on the inside of the door as well as the body of it. "Is this freaking real?!" She brushed the pad of her forefinger against the pointy, sharp nail and gasped.

"It is. Step in Ms. Boyce," he said seriously.

Her head flew around toward him, and she looked at him wide-eyed, her mouth agape. He burst into laughter as he stepped beside her. "You are a funny one. But I did kill my previous maid ... by accident, of course."

Placing his hand gently on her shoulder, he jerked it back, as if he touched a block of ice. Without a word, he took off his blazer and spread it open. She stepped into it and held it close to her body. 

"Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome. We won't be down here much longer." He felt like a wanker for allowing her to get as frozen as she had. 

"The apparatuses are the original torture equipment, all dating back to the late 1200s to the early 1400s." 

He walked to the rack in the center of the room. The contraption was ten feet long and five feet wide with two chains on both ends with rusty metal restraints; beside them in each corner were cranks.

"This is the body stretcher. That's why we Scots are so tall." He laughed evilly.

Beyond that on a small table in the corner were several small items, none of which she recognized. Hamish noticed she was looking at it oddly, so he went over, picked an item up and showed it to her. It was about ten inches tall with a wooden block base and long screw on the top. In the center was another block that had sharp, pointy nails and studs. He screwed the handle and the middle base came down slowly. Gayle watched fascinated but petrified.

He grinned wickedly. "This is a thumbscrew. I will use this if you don't keep your nails neatly manicured."

"I don't doubt you would, Sir." 

He grabbed another item that was identical to the collar she wore but had a long two-pronged fork on both ends. "This is a heretic's fork. The prongs rest just under the chin to keep the head up while the other prong rests on the collar bone. This will be what I will use on you if I ever catch you walking looking down. It's one of my worst pet peeves."

You can't be serious, she thought fearfully. She swallowed hard, nodded and swore to herself to always keep her chin up.

In the corner beside the cabinet was a five-foot high wooden stool, and on the top sat a wooden triangle. Hanging from the walls above it were chains that held a twelve-inch wooden ring, big enough to hold a human head.

"What the heck is that?" she asked, pointing to it.

"That is a Judas Cradle. The person would be hung over it by chains and slowly lowered, impaling them anally, or in the case of females ..."

"Oh, shit!" she gasped. "Is that like an ancient enema or something, Sir?" she joked.

He laughed again. "I guess it could be. It was used often during the Spanish Inquisition."

"Well, I'm glad I was born when I was."

Replacing that for another tool, he said, "This is a Pear of Anguish. Can you guess what it does?"

It was bronze and pear shaped, but the top was about twice as long and a little thinner than a pear. On the top was a ring. Hamish twisted it and four leaves flowered out. 

Gayle was beginning to get a headache. She shook her head. "Sir, please don't tell me it's a ... has anything to do with ..."

He chortled. "If they were punishing a woman it would be inserted vaginally then stretched out."

"Like a speculum?" she asked. "Ow!"

"I would encourage you not to burn my supper, Ms. Boyce." He waved the pear in his hand, his eyes burrowing into hers.

"Sir? How about I order delivery, Sir?" she asked smiling, trying to make her voice as playful as she could because she prayed he was only messing with her head.

He finally laughed and shook his head, then grew serious again in half a millisecond. "Try me."

She kept laughing, though it was then hysterical laughter. 

Now that she'd seen the most notorious torture equipment, he found it funny she was using 'Sir' much more often.

Quickly changing the subject, she saw behind him a barrel against one wall in which the lid was flowered and wider than it should have been. "What is that used for, Sir?"

"That is a barrel pillory. One gets in on his or her knees and the lid is placed over their head, leaving it exposed for several days. I won't go into detail, but I can assure you that it's quite unpleasant."

She thought only a moment before she realized he meant they'd be sitting in their own waste for God knew how many days or weeks for that matter. "Again, I believe you, Sir."

"Hmm, let's try something." 

Gayle instantly tensed. There was nothing in the room she wanted to try.

He walked over to the pillory, a wooden base at the bottom connected to a thick, wooden plank with two holes near each end with a bigger hole in the center. She knew exactly what it was and stood immobile.

After he unlocked and raised the top half he said, "Approach, Ms. Boyce."

Wobbling on weak knees and her heart pounding, she went to him scuffling her feet. Not removing his blazer he'd given her, he took her hands, one at a time, and placed them in the curved holes. His hand between her shoulder blades, he pushed her forward gently. She held her breath and closed her eyes as he lowered it closed, though heard no click to tell her he locked it in place. 

She didn't care for the fact that her ass was sticking out; the blazer didn't cover any of it. Taking her feet, he gently pulled them about two feet apart and secured them to the floor with iron anklets on a short chain.

He kept her secure for a minute or so watching her curiously from behind. It wasn't too bad for her at first, but feeling him so close and not knowing whether he'd smack her ass, it kept her edgy. Soon enough she started to squirm and twist her hands trying to slip her hands out, to no avail. She wasn't trying to free herself; she was simply seeing how much she could move.

He smiled wickedly when a thought occurred to him. Stepping between her feet, he placed his hands at the bottom of each ass cheeks and gently kneaded the fleshiness, gradually digging his thumbs and the tips of fingers in harder. Slowly, he moved his hands up to her hips then down her thighs before rising and skimming the small of her back under the blazer. Bending over, he kissed her ivory skin on the top of her spine before he stood back up. It was only a taste, but he wanted to feel every inch of her.

She groaned quietly and closed her eyes as his cold fingers and palms chilled her warm back. When he'd kissed her neck it felt so warm, his ice-cold nose nipping at the nape of her neck made her shiver, but it wasn't from the cold.

Getting a few more brief moments to appreciate her beauty, he unlocked her ankles before raising the block, freeing her head and arms. As she stood, he turned her around. "How was it?"

"Honestly," she replied, "it wasn't bad at all."

He frowned. "Being confined or my touch?"

She blushed wildly. "Both." Again she was being honest.

He smiled. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

When they were back in the main foyer, Hamish told Gayle, "You may go to your bedroom and relax, if you'd like. I've got some work to do in my study."

Although she had a million questions to ask him, the main one being if the dungeon would be where she was to receive her punishments on Fridays, she decided it would be best if she didn't. "Thank you, Sir." She removed his blazer and handed it to him. 

Before he knew what he was saying, he asked, "Which would you like back: The photo, the journal or the book?" He could have kicked himself for being so lenient with her, but he couldn't take it back.

She thought a moment. "Sir, I understand about rules, and I don't know what I was thinking by bringing the book. I don't even care for Stephen King." She had to catch herself from blabbering again. "I accept the repercussion of my actions." The damned torture chamber had more than petrified her -- it had scared her into submission.

He nodded. "I'll come retrieve you for lunch."

"Yes Sir," she replied.

As she headed up the stairs, a perplexing smile slowly rose on her lips. A part of her was proud for not freaking out being in the pillory, while a part of her liked him touching her. It wasn't sexual; she definitely wasn't turned on. But it was nice to have the attention from him, and she felt warm from suddenly feeling desired.

-------------------------------

Gayle hadn't bothered to close the bedroom door when she'd lied down. She was surprised the jet lag lasted as long as it did. She'd never slept as much as she had in the past year. She didn't like it very much, though. A big thing her father instilled in her was not to be lazy, to be productive. Good old Baptist upbringing. 

A little part of her wished Bessie would have come in to keep her company, but the truth was she hadn't seen her since breakfast. She might not have gone to sleep with the dog at her side, but when Bessie woke her up by wagging her tail hard onto the duvet, she found the dog sprawled out beside her. 

Looking around the room, she saw Hamish sitting in the chair. Sitting up and wiping her eyes, keeping the blanket over her breasts, she mumbled, "Hi, Sir."

He was frowning at her, making her wonder what she'd done to make him angry. She'd done nothing but sleep. "I'm going to have to buy you socks." His soft voice betrayed his frown and confused her.

"Why?" Bessie had dug her nose against Gayle's side, so Gayle petted her behind the ears, though continued to look at Hamish.

"Because you kept your foot sticking out from under the covers."

"Oh." She quickly relaxed. "I've been doing that since I was a kid. My feet are my thermostat. Mom's the same way." Another attribute she'd apparently inherited from her mum.

"Ah. Are you hungry?"

"Honestly, not really. I'm still full from breakfast. Coffee sounds good though."

"Alright," he said as he stood and went to the armoire. Pulling out an outfit, he laid it on the bed and walked toward the door. 

"Bessie, come." The canine jumped off the bed, tail wagging and went to him. "I'll meet you in the kitchen. The trainers are by your bed. Dress your blister before you put them on. You won't get a new pair."

Ah, there's my dominant boss, she thought. Slipping out of bed she saw the sneakers, but then she saw the frame of her family sitting on the nightstand. She forced herself not to smile, but her lips curled anyway. Okay, so he's a dominant man with a heart, she concluded.

The outfit he'd chosen was actually nice -- well, it would cover more of her body than the other two she'd worn so far. It was black with a sweetheart neckline covering her breasts just above the nipples; the thick halter straps she tied around her neck. The thin lace hem was barely below her crotch with a small white, lace apron. The back was completely bare except for the strap tied behind her. Her back being uncovered she could handle, and at least her breasts were covered.

After she used the bathroom and reapplied the ointment and Band-Aid, she slipped the sneakers on and went downstairs. She heard the tell-tale signs of Bessie coming, by the clipping of her nails on the wood floors. 

"Hey, girl. Show me where your Daddy is," she said when Bessie approached her.

As if the dog understood her, she walked away toward the kitchen. When Gayle got a whiff of the freshly brewed coffee, she inhaled sharply. Hamish had just sat down at the table when he saw her walk in. To Gayle, it appeared as if he had instantaneously frozen; his eyes may as well have popped out of his head, they were that big. 

"Sir," she said as she sat down across from him and picked up the mug. "Is something wrong?"

He sat back and continued to stare. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Because you were in my bedroom and just now ..." She felt like an idiot for bringing it up. Now that she heard what she said, she sounded a little paranoid.        

"I went up to get some ... paperwork and heard you talking in your sleep."

After taking a sip and putting the mug back down, she replied, hesitantly, "What did I say?"

"You don't remember?" She shook her head. "You were whining for someone to stop. Your voice was very distressed."

She paused. "Just a nightmare, I guess, Sir." She stared out the window watching the incoming dark clouds that threatened rain. 

"Ms. Boyce, that was more than a nightmare," he stated.

She prayed he'd stop pressing her for information. "Sir? Can we change the subject?" 

"So, you do remember?"

She sighed heavily. "No."

He slammed his hand on the table but didn't say anything. The moment his fist hit the table he regretted showing his momentary lapse of control. 

She didn't allow his show of anger to break her. Yes, she remembered the dream. Yes, he was her boss, but she didn't have to share such personal information with him. She simply wasn't ready to.

A few seconds later and after he had calmed down, he said, "I'm not prying, really. But ... it was clear someone hurt you. Your ex-boyfriend?"

"Sir, please!" she exclaimed, her voice louder than she meant. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Want to watch your tone with me?" he warned sharply.

"I'm sorry, Sir, really. It's ... painful to talk about. I don't mean to sound rude, Sir, but I'm here for six months. I've agreed to do what you require of me. But there are some things that are better left alone." 

Standing, he said somewhat irritated, "My library. Now." Then he walked out, Bessie on his heels.

She rolled her eyes, though she wasn't quite sure why. She should be shaking in terror from his deep, harsh command. Standing, she finished her coffee then walked into his library, her head held high -- until she saw 'the work' he'd done in the room while she slept.

In the open space between the fireplace and his desk was what looked like a simple massage table, but this had two thin boards on both ends for arms and legs, straps on all four.

Not seeing Hamish approach her, he hooked his finger around the collar ring and pulled Gayle forward gruffly until he leaned against his desk, keeping her a foot away. "Stand easy," he ordered, letting go of the collar.

Obediently she spread her legs, pulled her hands behind her and grasped her wrists, trying not to lock up her limbs too tightly and looked forward, though she tried not to focus on him. 

"In the contract I mentioned a safe word. Have you come up with one yet?"

Her heart sank. He was going to punish her for standing up for herself? "Yes Sir. Bagpipes."            

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. "Bagpipes? You couldn't have come up with something more original?" He smirked. 

"Albannach, but then it'd sound like I was choking or something."

He laughed. "True. Bagpipes it is. During punishment your safe word is not allowed, but red will halt the play until you gather your senses. It will then continue until I am satisfied you have learned your lesson.

"When we play, or scene, your safe word is indeed allowed. It will halt all play immediately. When I ask your color, if you reply with red I will cease what I am doing and we will discuss what you are dealing with. It will then continue.

"If you call out yellow, I will simply slow down or lessen the strikes. Green means you are fine, I can continue, but remember I might possibly push your limits if you remain at green for a long period of time or I get bored, whichever comes first. I've reviewed your hard limits and will not cross the line." 

As far as she was concerned none of it was play, only torture. But then again, since he did nothing but touch her in the dungeon, maybe she had more to learn. 

"Red: Stop, review, possibly continue. Yellow: Slow down. Green: Continue. Got it, Sir."

"Good girl. Do not forget those. If I misunderstand I might hurt you when I don't mean to." 

She nodded then he reached behind him, took hold of something then stepped behind her, got down on one knee and buckled the leather restraints around each ankle before he stood up. Her heart started to pound, even if the restraints had soft, thick fur on the inside. She knew her wrists were next so she let go of her wrists and pushed them toward him. 

A swift, hard slap landed on her ass cheek. She yelped and went forward on the tips of her toes.  

"I warned you once for moving when you are holding a pose, just this morning," he growled from behind her. "If I need you to move I will instruct you. Understand?" 

"I apologize, Sir."

"Right," he grumbled sarcastically. A moment later he buckled the restraints easily around her wrists. "Put your arms down beside you and slip off your trainers."

After she did, the strap of the apron behind her neck was pulled and pushed forward over her chest then he untied the waist strap and pulled the material away from her, throwing the apron on the desk. 

Again leading her with the collar ring, he stopped at end of the bench. "Get on." 

When she did, she squirmed as the butt plug seemed to get pushed further inside her; she let out a soft groan. Keeping her legs bent over the end, her arms stiff at her side since he hadn't told her to put her legs and arms on the boards. She figured it was a good place to start to show him she would listen to him.

Standing at her waist, he smiled down on her. She kept her eyes on the ceiling but saw the slight smile on his lips. She didn't quite know what it meant. 

"Good girl," he said softly. "Scoot up a bit."

She had to put her feet on the boards to do so, but she put her legs back down. Taking her left wrist, he stretched it out on the upper board and latched it into place. Then he went and stood between her knees, secured both ankles before finishing up with her right wrist. Looking down over her face again, he brushed back her strands of her hair so they flowed over the end of the table. 

"Ms. Boyce, I knew I would have to train you while in my employ, and so far I have been pleased. You have stood your ground when I've pushed more than I should have."

She shook her head. "Sir, you don't have to apologize."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 05



He frowned, a small flicker of anger in his eyes. He put the bottom of his palm on her jaw and tapped her right cheek lightly. "That was no apology. What your lesson is now is that I want you to understand I will not hurt you. Whatever your past is, no matter what you've been through, I want to bring you pleasure, show you the difference between pleasure and pain. When I must punish you it is in hopes you will not do it again. But I will never, ever harm you." 

She wondered what the hell he was getting at. She'd never felt pleasure before with a man ... except for the bath that morning. Before she had fallen asleep she couldn't understand how easy it was for her to orgasm, in the tub, of all places.

"You have to trust me. Do you?"

She wanted to. But she didn't, not really, not yet. A moment of comfort sitting in his lap didn't make a possible sadist lovable. She simply nodded, barely able to look him in his eyes, not really knowing what to say. 

"Hmmph. Not a good job convincing me. No worries. When I am through with you today, you will trust me."

  Her stubbornness kicked in, and she already told herself she would never trust him. She would serve diners at work, she would work for this stranger for six months, but she would never completely trust anyone again. 

As she stared up at the ceiling, he stood between her knees and peered down at her, her body tense and her lips pursed. Her breathing was shallow from nerves, but she had no reason to be anxious. 

This was a chance for him to show her he could be soft and gentle, give her pleasure sensually, not just with floggers or paddles as he was accustomed and enjoyed doing. Raising his arms slowly, he placed his fingers flat on her ankles above the restraints with the slightest touch and moved his hands upwards. Grazing his hands over the sides of her knees, he moved up to her thighs, kneading her flesh from the sides before skirting to the top.

Purposefully he avoided touching her crotch as his hands rested on her hips, though he did take a look at her sex. Her pink, fleshy hood and clit were the epitome of the most perfect butterfly-shape of a woman's most intimate core. The bright sun shining in from the window highlighted the onset of moisture hidden around the edges of her lips. 

So, I did get to her in the dungeon, he thought. He'd wondered what would get her to soften up enough to react, and he soon got his answer.

She was very surprised how warm his hands were as his hands roamed over her legs and thighs. The strength of his fingers as he molded her skin relaxed her a little, though she had to force herself to forget how much he'd affected her when he touched her in the dungeon, even though she tried to deny it. Everything was so new to her, and now with every touch she was beginning to believe he could bring her pleasure ... pleasure that she never thought she would ever feel.

Running his flat hands up over her stomach leisurely, he bent at his waist and stretched further up her body until he grasped each breast, cupping and squeezing them until she moaned loudly and took a heavy breath. He circled her then erect nipples with his flat palms before pinching and rolling the tips with his forefingers and thumbs. Tilting her head back, her mouth open, he felt her legs shake and squirm and saw her fist and un-fist her hands. 

When he noticed her breath come harder and faster, he whispered, "Control your breathing."

Nodding, she took several deep breaths through her nose, held them then exhaled through her mouth. Her chest rose, offering him more of her full, moldable breasts. 

"Good girl. That's it. Just relax." 

Spending a minute longer on her breasts, he leaned back up and rested his right hand at the very top of her thigh while he ran his left palm over her pussy up and down, letting the pad of his middle finger dig into the crevice of the hood and rubbed it back and forth. Her pussy was slick and warm against his palm, and he could smell her body's excitement.  

No longer able to hold back, he placed both thumbs on the outside lips and spread them to further expose her clit. Rubbing his thumbs down to either side of her entrance then back up, he flicked his tongue against the tip of her clit; it twitched on contact.

She kicked her feet and whimpered, her straight legs stiffened. In the same heartbeat she twisted her hands and gripped the thin board tightly; so tight her knuckles turned white in an instant.

Feeding off of her reaction, he covered her clit with his lips and bit softly, making her cry out. Lifting his head slightly to see her face, her mouth was hanging open and her breath coming fast and furious. Not lessening the pressure, he took her clit and sucked on it gently for a moment or two as her head thrashed back and forth, gasps and moans escaping her gritted teeth.

"No. Yes. No ..." she whined.

He knew she was close, and while a part of him wanted to leave her hanging on the edge, he also craved the power she was giving him with her impending climax. His hard cock pressed angrily against his jeans and he craved release as well, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

Keeping her labia parted with two fingers and the tip between his teeth, he wet the fingers of his other hand with her moisture before slipping two inside her swollen, tight pussy. She whimpered loudly as he reached her core, curved his fingers and tapped the small, engorged mound of her g-spot.

"Ohhhh, fuck. Oh fuuu ... Nonono. Oh fuuuu ..." Tears filled her eyes as her toes curled from the ecstasy coursing through her; her body shook and every muscle tightened.

"Hold it!" he barked then dove back on her clit.

"Shhh ... Please," she begged and whimpered. 

She started to buck her hips towards him, up and down as he licked and circled her clit with his tongue, varying the pressure as he did so. Tapping her g-spot, he began to penetrate her deeper before bringing his fingers almost out then reinserting them. 

He pulled his head back and said loud enough for her to hear through her moaning, "When I count to three you will come for me. Don't hold back. Give it to me."

She barely heard him considering her whimpering echoed back in her ears, but she heard enough. "Yyyyes Siiiiir."

Flicking her clit twice while tapping and caressing her g-spot, he watched her face as he counted. "One," he muttered, still attached to her.

She braced herself as the orgasm built up within her, her spine arching as she forced herself to hold off. Her heart pounded even harder than it had before, threatening to burst from her chest.

"Two."

Every nerve ending in her body was ablaze as his hot breath blew over her clit and pussy; even her nipples tingled with the intensity. 

"Three. Come. NOW!"

With a guttural yell, her entire body spasmed as she came hard and long, holding her breath as if breathing would kill her. Something trickled from her and her eyes flew open wide. Terrified she'd just peed on him, she was baffled when she looked down at the top of his ginger-haired head. His mouth was clued to her pussy, his tongue lapping and licking her completely clean. 

Throwing her head back down, all the strength drained from her, she tried to catch her breath; her mouth was so dry so could barely swallow. "I ... I'm sorry, Sir," she mumbled.

Licking his lips of her cum, he whispered, "No need to apologize, Gayle."

Unbuckling her legs, he took her legs and brought them together, letting them hang over the edge. Drying his chin and mustache with a hand towel she never noticed he had, he stepped beside her, unhooked her wrists and placed his elbows on the table close to her shoulder. 

"I ... That's ..." She still had difficulty speaking from her heavy breathing.

He smiled, but that quickly evaporated when he saw the expression on her face. She was mortified. Thinking a moment, he asked, "You've never squirted before?"

"Squ ... hell no. I'm sorry, Sir."

Then he understood. Shaking his head, he brushed her then-damp hair away from her temples, keeping his hand on the side of her head, running his fingers through her scalp. 

"That wasn't urine, little fawn. You ejaculated." 

"I couldn't have. Women don't do that." 

"I can assure you they do, and you certainly did. Would you like some water?"

Not wanting to press the issue, she let it go and nodded. She briefly wiped her wet eyes before watching him walk away and disappear in the bathroom. When he came out and she looked past his hand carrying the plastic cup, she couldn't help but notice the bulge in his crotch as it strained to free itself. Her cheeks burned hot, and a twinge of guilt hit her that he hadn't had an orgasm. 

Holding the cup, he stretched out his other hand. "You may sit up." 

Hesitantly taking his hand, she let him pull her up. "Thank you, Sir." After he gave her the water, she downed almost all of it before she set it on the table beside her. 

Gripping the sides of her face gently, he smirked. "Do you trust me now?"

The rise in endorphins made her feel a little giddy, as she didn't know what he was talking about. She frowned at him afraid to ask, for not wanting to insult him.

He tsk'd but didn't lose his smile. "I think your moans and that orgasm was a yes to the fact I can bring you gratification."

She blushed more from feeling like an idiot. Before she could answer, he tilted her head with his thumbs on her chin and his glare bore into her. His eyes darted from her eyes to her lips before fluttering back to her eyes. There was something in his eyes she hadn't seen in them before: Lust was it? 

"I've got to let Bessie out for a bit. Would you like to join us or wait for us in the drawing room?"

"I wouldn't mind going outside, Sir." In truth, she wanted to sit to gather her senses and understand what had just happened to her.

Hamish smiled, almost as if he was happy Gayle had answered what he wanted to hear. Whistling loudly, he called out for the dog. 

Then he stepped back and Gayle jumped down. She was so weak in the knees she almost went down, but he caught her in time. He'd grabbed her waist and held her tight, his other hand on her upper arm, her breasts tight against his chest; her own hand settled on his shoulder. 

She was so startled at his strength and being so quick at catching her that she'd looked at him in surprise, her eyes wide. Her stomach churned with something she'd never felt before, even with her ex. Lust!!

Her heart stopped beating as their eyes locked, something drawing them together like a magnetic attraction. Ever so slowly, their heads drew together like a moth to a flame.

He was lost in her eyes, tracing the golden flecks extending from the irises as his pulse quickened. Not being sure if he should kiss her or not, regardless of how much he wanted to, he watched as she closed her eyes when her lips were a mere two inches from his, thus the answer to his quandary.

Anxiously yet eagerly anticipating the feel of her soft, plush lips on his, the sound of a canine's toes clacking stone filled the room. Trying to ignore Bessie, he parted his lips just as they were about to touch hers. 

Bessie suddenly barked and barged her fifty pound sturdy body between their legs, her tail whipping painfully on their shins, instantly breaking the spell that had engulfed them.

Fuck, he grumbled to himself as he pulled back from Gayle, trying to disguise the disappointment on his face. "Bloody bitch!" he cursed, looking directly into Gayle's eyes.

Gayle flinched at the title and tried to rein in her anger, which was incredibly difficult. Taking a deep breath, she thought a moment before she said, "Sir? I do have a name, and bitch isn't it."

Not stepping back, his eyebrows furrowed deeply before his lips slowly curled up.       "Damned language barrier. I take it Americans don't call female dogs bitch?"

"Well, um, no." She instantly berated herself for her quick reaction. No one could blame her, though only another American would. 

"I can see where the confusion would come from. Henceforth she will be known as bloody dog. Agreed?" Hamish sighed.

Letting his hand slip slowly down her arm, he grasped her hand and looked at her, as if asking mentally if it was okay. She smiled, though she felt her cheeks sting slightly. Relieved she'd accepted his offer, he returned her smile and led her outside to the back garden with Bessie in front of her humans. 

Hodges was gardening in one patch of tilled earth, soil on his knees, trowel in hand, a basket set beside him. When Bessie barked and ran towards him, he looked up briefly at the dog before he saw Hamish and Gayle walk towards him. Seeing his boss's new employee naked as a jay bird, he took in such a sharp breath he was certain he'd inhaled some dirt. 

Something struck Hodges: Hamish and Gayle made a strikingly beautiful couple. 

Gayle self-consciously crossed her free arm over her breasts and tried to hide behind Hamish, but he jerked her hand to his side. Still being a distance away, he whispered, "No."

She looked up at him sharply, wanting to pretend he hadn't just said, 'He's gay. Show off your luscious body.' But with that one simple word, that was essentially what he was saying.

"What are you doing out here, Hodges?" Hamish asked as they stopped on the edge of the grass. 

Standing, he wiped his hands and tried not to stare at Gayle's firm, full breasts and hard, spry nipples. "Hamish, Gayle. I'm just getting some things done since I won't be working tomorrow. I'll pull up the veggies Tuesday morning." 

"Fine. See you tomorrow," Hamish replied. 

"Have a good afternoon, you two."

Gayle was dumbfounded as they walked toward the water fountain where they'd sat before. "Sir? Didn't David say he wasn't working tomorrow?"

"No, he's working tomorrow, just not here. He's driving us into town." 

"Oh." She gasped. "Shit! I forgot about the waxing."

Sitting down, Hamish placed the hand holding hers on his thigh. His eyebrow rose curiously as she hadn't yet pulled away, not that he was complaining.

"I would have thought after your sassing punishment you'd remember."

"I'm having a brain fart, Sir. Sorry."

He jerked his head back. "Brain fart?" he asked confused.

"My brains cells have burst with all the ... stuff the past two days. It just slipped my mind."

"Ah. Well, we are going to Edinburgh for the day."

Her face brightened at the thought of the adventure. She'd done some research on what she wanted to see in the city. "Oh!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I would love to see the castle and The Royal Mile. Would we have time --"

"I'm afraid it's not a site-seeing trip, purely business."

Her face then deflated. "Crap."

Looking over her face closely, he saw the disappointment clearly registered. "Lass, if you're good and stop sassing me the way you do, we might visit at the week end. I've got a flat in the city center we can stay in."

She nodded and looked around for Bessie to distract her, but then she heard David talking softly and knew she was with him. She was a little distressed she'd have to earn her rewards instead of them be given to her freely -- Thus the meaning of reward, she reminded herself. Who was she trying to fool?

"The waxing is scheduled for nine then to a few shops; a quick and easy in and out. Maybe lunch in a pub on the way back, if you take the waxing well."

"Okay, Sir," she finally replied, trying not to grumble.

"With the hours' drive and heavy traffic, it'll be an early morning start. You'll have to make breakfast. Think you'll be over your jet lag by then?"

He must be familiar with the two day versus one day jet lag. "God, I hope so."

"Good. You should be fine by Wednesday for your first official work day. I'll be going to work Tuesday and Jessie will show you what to do then. But I should tell you now: On Tuesday, I will leave my slippers waiting for you outside my bedroom door. I will be home at quarter past six. You will kneel beside my chair in the small drawing room, no clothes. Jessie leaves the post on the kitchen table as well as the newspaper. You will have them on the coffee table along with a glass of my Whisky, with ice, and my slippers in front of the recliner. This you will do daily."

Mentally going over the list in her head, she replied, "Yes Sir."

The rest of the afternoon was filled with an afternoon tea then they watched TV in the small drawing room. Hamish didn't want to overwhelm her with worries over what to make for dinner, so he said he wanted a simple baked chicken breast, vegetables and salad.

At almost eight, they sat down to dinner at the kitchen table and started to eat, with Bessie resting at Hamish's feet. The silence between them was perfect for Gayle, as she found it uncomfortable to be eating naked; he'd instructed her to wear an apron while she cooked.

Hamish had stood by the island watching every move she made while she prepared the food. Well, not her moves, actually, but her ass and breasts and hips. He picked up on the fact that she knew she was being watched, but as time went by she was becoming more confident and less self-conscious. It was a beginning; she was right where he wanted her.

All Gayle could think about as she ate was the bondage table he'd set up in the library. Gathering her courage, she asked, "Sir? Where did the table come from you had in your library?"

Sipping his whisky, he replied, "My secret place."

His response didn't quite answer her question, but she didn't push him. "What else do you have?" She doubted he'd give her a straight answer that time.

"St. Andrews Cross, stocks, spanking and bondage benches." He waited for her to ask him to explain what they were or show some shock. She didn't. "You are familiar with them?"

She nodded. "You don't know about The Crucible?"

"The movie? What the bloody hell does that have to do with anything?" 

She tried not to laugh at the movie reference. "I had to attend a BDSM beginner's class at the club. It was a requirement with the agency."

"Was it a play establishment?" he asked.

She saw a hint of something in his eyes she couldn't put her finger on. Was it jealousy? Recalling his smugness when he told her Hodges was gay, it was becoming a pattern, an unwelcome and unwarranted pattern.

"Yes Sir," she replied. "But I didn't. I wasn't about to have a stranger --" She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw his body deflate. Was it relief? 

"I'm done eating," he huffed as he stood. "You may go on to bed when you're finished cleaning. I'll get you up at quarter to seven. We have breakfast and leave at 0730 sharp. Good night." 

When he stormed off, Bessie stood and turned her head to her master then to Gayle, as if she was deciding whether she should stay in case Gayle would feed her. In the end, she trotted off out the kitchen door.      

What the hell is his problem?! she groaned to herself. It all came back to her why she never wanted another boyfriend: They were all asses, regardless of what country they lived in.  

Hamish went directly to his bedroom, closing the door harder than necessary. Throwing himself down on the couch, he rested his head in his hands and shook it twice. "What the fuck is my problem!?" he muttered loudly. "Shyte a brick." 

Mr. Hamish McDougal was never a weak man. But here he was, acting like a jealous moron, and on more than one occasion too. He had shown his weakness by returning her family photo. He claimed to be a Dominant and that he wanted a submissive. He got a submissive, a legit and beautiful one, and he couldn't follow through on his own commands.

"Bessie?" he said. Bessie picked up her head where she rested at his feet and wagged her tail. "Where and when, exactly, did my balls fallen off?" 

MONDAY, AUGUST 5th, 2013  

"Ms. Boyce," Hamish said quietly as he stood by Gayle's bed.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 05



"Hmm?" she mumbled, the blanket burying her completely up to her chin, her foot sticking out.

"It's time to get up."

"Hmm?" she repeated.

Shaking his head, he said more urgently, "The castle is on fire."

"M'kay. Le' me pee fir't." She didn't move a muscle.

He couldn't help but laugh. Then he remembered she told him she was ticklish. There is more than one way to skin a cat, he thought. Bending over, he scraped his fingertips over the sole of her feet.

"Ah!" she screamed then kicked her leg up and out, the top of her foot slamming right into his thigh, dangerously close to his manhood. 

Then she noticed he was standing there in only his jockey shorts. Yes, she had seen him naked in the bath tub, but somehow, with him being in such close proximity, all kinds of lustful images were running through her head.

His deep grunt of pain brought her out of her thoughts. Rubbing the muscle, pretending she had carved a foot-sized crater in him, he said, "That's twenty lashes with the cat-tail, I should think." 

Sitting up, she groggily stared up at him baffled as to what just happened. "What? No! That's not fair! It wasn't my fault, Sir."

He finally cracked a smile. "No, it wasn't. But we have to get going. I'm hungry for my bacon sarnies. You have fifteen minutes, we leave at 0730 sharp, remember. Your clothes are in your bathroom. And no butt plug needed today." 

He quickly walked out to go to his own bedroom to finish getting dressed. 

"Sir! What are bacon sarnies?" she shouted as she slipped out of bed.

"Grilled bacon inside toast!" he called back. "Fine, Bessie, stay in the hallway." 

"Hmm, so why couldn't he have just said a bacon sandwich?" she huffed quietly after she heard his bedroom door close.

Heading to the bathroom, she ran the water in the tub and peed, then gratefully removed the butt plug and cleaned it. She made a mental note to ask him if she had to wear it overnight. She'd have to come up with a plausible reason, though. 

Putting her hair up in a ponytail, she got into the tub and quickly cleaned herself without the luxury of enjoying the bath. She wasn't planning on washing her hair; she usually did it every other day anyway, but she took extra time and special care to scour between her legs in preparation for the waxing.

After she dried herself off, she put on the blouse and skirt – which she was starting to dread seeing – and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Bessie was sitting at the bottom of the stairs wagging her tail, and when she saw Gayle she ran down the hallway toward Hamish's library. 

"Bessie, where are you going?!" Gayle said as she followed her to the back door. "Oh, you have to potty? OK."

Right after she opened the door, Gayle saw several rabbits munching happily on the lawn closest to the house. Bessie started barking and ran after them. They scattered away from the dog's muzzle, but she never got close enough to bite them. 

"No. NO!" she yelled. 

Going after her, the cold dew bit into her bare feet. The rabbits long gone, every time she got within ten feet of the Bessie, she'd change course and run in a different direction. 

"Please, please, don't do this, Bessie," Gayle grumbled; she sure didn't need to be punished for losing Hamish's cherished dog.

Bessie set off in a dead run and she followed her over a small hill to the same path that led to the Title barn. "Shit!" she cursed when the dog disappeared into the edge of the trees. "BESSIE!" 

Gayle imagined the damned dog turning around and giving her the finger, or in this case, the middle toe.

"Fuck!"

Heading back to the house as fast as she could to get Hamish, she met him coming down the stairs fully dressed. "Sir! Bessie—"

"I know, I know," he groused as he turned and headed to the kitchen. 

"She went into—"

"Ms. Boyce!" he snapped as he turned around and gave her a death glare. "I heard her barking and saw her from my bedroom window. You should have asked me – too late now."

She stopped in her tracks and stood in the kitchen doorway, butterflies fluttering in her stomach like the time she was a three year old. She didn't remember getting into the car, releasing the emergency brake and having it roll down the driveway into the adjacent driveway, stopping a mere two inches from their car.

What she did remember, quite vividly, was staring out of the bedroom window looking at the neighbor's house as she waited for her mother to return to give her a spanking. She didn't remember whether she got punished or not, but years later her mother confessed it shook her up so badly she had her first shot of whisky.

Watching him as he grabbed Bessie's metal food bowl and a big wooden serving spoon, he barked, "Get your trainers by the dryer." Then he walked out of the kitchen.

Quickly she put them on and caught up with him outside. Walking with her tail between her legs, she followed him until they reached the Tithe barn, where he stopped.

He banged the bowl a few times, the high pitched reverberation drilling into her skull as he called out for Bessie. 

"Did you think to do this, Ms. Boyce?"

She knew she had to tread lightly. "No Sir."

"Bribing her with bone treats?"

"No Sir. I came to get you as soon as she ran off. She wouldn't listen to me."

"I know how she feels," he huffed.

Hamish knew exactly where Bessie had gone, but he wasn't going to let Gayle in on it. Any excuse for a spanking was fine with him. 

"Well, hell," he muttered as he walked into the woods. 

With leaves and twigs crunching and snapping under their feet, both listened for any signs of barking from Bessie in between the incessant noise. She could have cried right then and there over her stupidity of letting the dog out. She wasn't happy with herself that she'd practically disobeyed everything he'd told her to do, and she was sure he was just as unhappy, if not more so.

Almost ten minutes went by when the echo of a canine's bark filled the space around them. Gayle stopped in her tracks and scanned the area where it had come from. She saw Bessie running full speed toward them, tail wagging the entire way. 

In the distance she noticed a small two-story stone house, and a car pulling away. She recognized the driver as Hodges, and also saw he had a passenger. 

"Shit. He's on his way to the house. We have no time for breakfast." 

"Sir, I'm really, really sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, you weren't," he snapped. Bessie finally reached him and begged for some loving as if nothing had happened. "Bloody dog!" he fussed as he grabbed her red, leather dog collar. "I don't want you bothering Hodges." 

He pulled out a leash from his jacket pocket and secured it to her collar then started walking back to the house.         

Gayle grew suspicious. She had a feeling that he knew Bessie was at Hodge's all along. Only then did it dawn on her that he'd made a beeline in the same direction the dog was found. 

"Sir? Did you think to call Hodges to see if she was there?"

Waiting for him to berate her, he said, "Yes. I've taken her to his place often, especially in the mornings. It's habit to her."

Only after he smiled did she laugh. "That was too mean."

"Who said I wasn't? But please don't let her out without her leash." She nodded. "Damn it. I wanted my sarnies."

"If it's just a bacon sandwich, if you have lettuce and tomatoes I can make BLTs and soup for dinner."

He looked at her appalled. "A bacon sandwich? Just a bacon sandwich? Ms. Boyce, I'll have you know there is nothing better than a fresh local bacon sandwich!"

She was about to explain herself when she saw a twinkle in his eye that made her think he was playing with her. So, she pushed his boundaries. "Parfait. I like parfait," she replied, trying to imitate Donkey from Shrek. "Or chocolate ice cream. M&Ms. NO! Peanut M&Ms. Chicken noodle soup on a cold winter's day."

Hamish shook his head then muttered something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't hear what you said."

"Making love on a cold winter's day is better than bacon sarnies," he replied with a grin.

"Okay, you win."

"Of course I do. And for letting Bessie out, I think I will tweeze out your pubes one by one instead of having you waxed."

"What?" She prayed he was kidding. "Okay, you win. Sir? Who was with David?"

"Phil."

"Oh. His boyfriend is coming? Cool. How long have they been together?"

Thinking quickly, he said, "They went to school together."

"Ah. Okay."

When they reached the gardens behind the house, he said, "Go on up and get your heels and be quick about it."

------------------------------

"Oh, my god. We've been crawling along for half an hour," Gayle grumbled.

She'd been sitting up between the front seats talking to David and Phil almost the entire drive to Edinburgh and enjoying their non-stop, conversations. Hamish had been on a business phone call since they left Tentsmuir, being that it was a work day.

"How much further?" Gayle asked impatiently.

"Half an hour, maybe a bit more," David replied patiently. "There's a wonderful bakery a few blocks away called Cuckoo's that we're going to while you two shop."

"We're looking at wedding cakes, but bringing back the best cupcake you will ever eat!" Phil added. "What flavor would you like? I'd recommend the toffee, but the cinnamon apple is delish." 

Gayle hadn't heard that gay marriage was legal in Great Britain and didn't want to pry about their impending nuptials. Without any regard to Hamish's thoughts on the sweet treat, she replied, "If it's not too much trouble, the cinnamon apple does sound good. It's thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"Not a problem. I've heard Washington's traffic is the worst in your country," Phil commented.

"It should be, but it isn't. Rush hour is a nightmare, and it's only getting worse. Forget about a quick trip south, it's almost impossible, especially on the weekend. And expect to add two hours on a three hour drive on a holiday weekend."

"That sounds simply ghastly!" David said. "I dread coming into the city, but once I'm here the horror of the drive is forgotten."

Hamish ended his phone call, so Gayle sat back after she felt Hamish's eyes lasering into the back of her head. Turning to him, she smiled. "It looks like we'll be late for the waxing, Sir."

He hesitated a moment. "I can always ring and tell them we're running a tad late, Ms. Boyce. I'm sure they'll have no problem waiting for us," he replied sarcastically. 

"I don't know, Sir. I'm sure they have other clients that are just dying to --" That time when he glared at her, it silenced her. 

He was immensely thrilled with himself ... but only for a brief moment when she said, "I can always just shave."

Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "And I can always replace the cat-tails with a cane." That shut her right up. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Soon enough they reached the city center and Hamish said, "Take the Royal Mile way, Hodges."

"Right oh."

Gayle turned to Hamish with a huge smile on her face. He had said they wouldn't be shopping on the Mile, but she would accept the drive-through. "Thank you, Sir."

He only nodded. She prayed the day would be over quickly, sighed and glued her nose to the car window as she took in the buildings and watched the Scots going about their daily routine. Among the centuries' old buildings was a white-painted brick, two-story building where the second floor looked like it was falling down on the first floor. 

Not wanting to miss a thing, she tried to catch the odd names of the shops and businesses lining the street: 'Goat's Beard Pub,' 'The Tainted Pope,' 'Crystal Balls.' 

A few minutes later the car pulled alongside the curb on the left and David parked the car, though kept the engine running. Neither David nor Phil got out, and Hamish opened his own door, telling David to pick them up at 9:30.

Gayle was about to open her door when he told her to get out on his side. Scooting over, she kept her skirt down as she said goodbye to David and Phil then walked toward Hamish, who had glanced at his watch beside the shop's front door. The name of the spa was 'The Beauty Quarter.' She had to laugh to herself with the poor name, considering the originality of the other business names.

When she reached him, he warned, "Watch yourself during the procedure. Hold your tongue."

"Yes Sir," she replied, not even bothering to look at him. He had another thing coming if he thought she'd be able to not make a sound.

Looking at her angrily, he said, "Do you think this is a joke, Ms. Boyce? You are an extension of me, and I will not have you humiliating me. Do you understand?"

Finally she tilted her head up and croaked, "Yes Sir. I understand."

------------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Albannach is pronounced 'Al-bonn-ock,' with the 'ck' gurgling in the back of the throat. They are an incredible Scottish drum and bagpipe group that play at Renaissance Faires (Scooter, we spell it w/the 'e'!) worldwide and have been on Craig Ferguson. Watch them on Youtube, although you don't get the deep-seated feel from the drums as you do in person.



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 06



AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am happy y'all are getting a better feel for who Hamish is. He is being revealed little by little. And I return comments in the comments section because I'll post the next chapter and can't go back to make more edits.

COMMENT FROM SCOOTER TITENBUM--- Sent from a padded room, location unknown and under constant suicide watch. Right eye with a constant tic and uncontrolled trembling to the upper body. Jacket very comfortable despite the tight fit and wondering where all the sharp objects have gone.....

Scooter Titenbum says.....Clouseau....I hate you Clouseau (A2W has been removed from the thought process via constant brainwashing, but insert as appropriate)

I would actually like to say what a complete joy it is to work with A2W. To spend hours batting ideas back and forward, umpteen edits and to then be presented with the FINAL version is heartwarming. To then realize the final edit bears little relation to the previous umpteen edits is not quite so heartwarming. "I just had a few little ideas," she chirps away when I Skype her, "and I had to put them in."

WOMEN....God bless their little cotton socks...

PS...Luvs ya really sweetie. (He's been drinking, y'all! lol) 

-------------------------

They took a seat after Gayle gave the receptionist her name. She was surprised it was as modern as it was, but then again Scots no longer live in the Stone Age. But she couldn't help thinking that. 

She was Irish on her mother's side and Scottish on her father's, though his DNA indicated Scandinavian was his most recent common ancestor. Ever since she'd gone to a Renaissance Faire she fell in love with the whole romanticism of early life in Great Britain. 

Now that she was actually in a city that had history almost a thousand years old, she realized what a naive idiot she was. 

"Nervous?" Hamish asked her, scrutinizing her face.

"Of course I am, Sir." 

"Good." He looked at her sternly and sighed heavily.

It's obviously clear he isn't pleased about something, which isn't unusual, she added to her thoughts.

His voice quiet, he said, "Shoulders back, chest out, straighten your back."

Sitting up straight, she remembered his comment about not having the appropriate posture and somewhat relaxed. Then it hit her like a lightning bolt. 

It had been nipping at the back of her brain since the night before with his sudden, unexplained outburst. Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, it was becoming clear to her that she should embrace what he had given her and be what he wanted her to be. Remembering the information in the booklet she'd received at The Crucible, she was doing the complete opposite of what a submissive should be. 

She thought she was being playful when she'd sass him, and maybe subconsciously wanted to defy him for whatever reason. Retain her independence? Her strengths? Her womanhood? It was only for six months. It wouldn't kill her to make a serious attempt. What harm can it do? she asked herself. 

"Sir? Are you still angry with me about Bessie?" 

"No." He picked up a magazine and fanned the pages, not even reading it.

Trying another tactic, she started, "Sir, it wasn't intentional. I know I haven't been the best ... submissive, but I don't like that I've ... displeased you."

He shook his head then looked at her curiously. What has gotten into her? he wondered. There was no way he was going to explain his behavior -- his jealousy, protectiveness, losing his bollocks. Even if he could find the right words to justify his behavior, there was no way in hell he could ever say them out loud.

"You haven't. Not yet. You'll know when I am."

Is that when you grab the cattail you keep threatening me with, Sir? she asked to herself. 

Before she could reply, a thin, blonde woman, dressed in slacks and a white, long cotton jacket, about the same age as Gayle approached.

"Mr. McDougal, Ms. Boyce. I'm Alana. Come on back." 

Gayle noticed a brief, odd glance between Alana and Hamish, but she couldn't read exactly what it meant. 

As Gayle stood, so did Hamish. Alana told him, "I'll bring her back out in about twenty minutes." 

If she wanted to please him, this was her chance. Another test wouldn't hurt. "I'd like to be with her," he said, "if it's alright with Ms. Boyce." He studied her face to see if she would object. 

Gayle didn't have a problem with it; as a matter of fact, she preferred him to be in with her. "It's okay, Alana. I don't mind."

Hamish was pleased. She'd passed.

Alana didn't say anything else, so the two followed her towards the back of the salon, where she opened the door to a small room containing a table covered with a white, clean cloth. A soft scent of lavender filled the room, and a soft, melodic instrumental played under the soothing gurgling of a stream; the extra touches instantly setting her at ease.

Hamish sat in a chair by the business end of the table for a front row and center view. Not knowing exactly which position Alana wanted her to lie down in, Gayle leaned against the table.

"So, is this your first waxing, Gayle?"

"It is," she replied nervously.

"What type of waxing are you having today?" Alana asked. Her accent was clearly English; there was no underlying Scottish tone at all. 

"Um, bikini wax," she replied, feeling her blushing cheeks.

"You want a landing strip just above the vulva? A triangle?" Alana asked with no shyness at all.

"No," Hamish chimed in. "No hair at all. Hollywood. And make sure you get her upper thighs. There are a few missed spots there as well."

Gayle could have died from embarrassment. She had no idea what a Hollywood waxing was so she was afraid to ask. She didn't have a say in the matter anyway, apparently.

Alana looked at Gayle as if looking for confirmation from her. When she didn't answer, Alana said, looking at Hamish, "I wouldn't suggest a Hollywood with it being her first time. It's perfectly fine to shave that area around the anus. Maybe after a few treatments, but not now."

Hamish nodded. "Is that something you can take care of?"

"Certainly." Turning to Gayle, she said, "Remove your skirt and panties and lie on your back; keep your bum at the edge of the table. The main thing to do is relax."

While Alana stirred the small pot of wax, Gayle turned away from the esthetician and was faced with Hamish watching her. Something in his eyes made her keep eye contact with him as she lowered the skirt down past her hips to the floor. As she bent to pick it up, the material of the blouse rubbed against her nipples, forcing them to perk right up. Shit. She was starting to become aroused. Hanging the skirt on the hook on the back of the chair, she jumped up on the table and stared up at the ceiling, then said a silent prayer to the Esthetician Goddesses.

"Right," Alana said as she put the wax pot and small cloth squares on a moveable tray at the foot of the table then pulled out a short shelf under the top of the bed. "Keep the bottom of your feet on the edge of this, knees apart as far as you can make them."

Scooting down a little, she was beginning to get tired of taking orders for positions that she knew would cause nothing but pain or embarrassment. Grabbing the sides of the table, she held on tight and closed her eyes. 

A second later, the room rumbled with the movement of a chair's wheels on the tile floor before the paper sheet she was lying on crinkled just above her head. Huge hands grasped both cheeks, gently tilting her head up so she was looking right under his chin. 

"Ms. Boyce, look at me," Hamish ordered.

She was also beginning to hate hearing those three words: Look at me. When she finally did, she was struck at how soft his expression was as he peered down on her. 

"Breathe with me." His voice matched the softness of his face. 

She looked at him like he was out of his mind. You try having your ball hairs waxed and see how well you're able to breathe! she thought, trying not to laugh. Once she got that out of her system, she noticed he was exaggerating breathing through his nose then exhaling out of his mouth. Watching him do it several times, she finally matched his technique.

It was a simple yet brilliant instruction, and it worked ... until Alana said, "Now, the wax will be quite hot but it won't burn your skin. Then I'll lay the patch on it and rub it a few times. When I count down from three, I'll pull the cloth right after I say one. That way you can prepare yourself."

"Alana?" Hamish interrupted. "May I speak with you a moment outside before you begin?"

No! Gayle wanted to scream. Tell me first! All she could do was hope he only wanted to tell the woman to be easy on her and make it as painless as possible. 

She waited impatiently for their return, and when they finally did come back she didn't like the expression on Hamish's face, nor did she appreciate the slight grin on Alana's lips.

Alana stood between her feet while Hamish took the same stance as before, his hands gently kneading her shoulders to relax her. "Control your breathing." His words were soft; there was no malice to them at all. 

Taking one long, deep breath, she held it before exhaling.

"Right. Ready?" Alana asked.

"No," Gayle whined jokingly, but began to breath deeply again.

Hamish promptly placed his palms on the sides of her face and lightly tapped her cheeks with the lengths of his fingers. Whispering in her ear, he reminded her, "I don't expect you not to groan or cry out, and you may close your eyes. Make me proud, little fawn."

She wasn't sure if it was the nickname that he'd said more than once or the calmness and reassurance in his voice, but she mentally prepared herself for the onslaught of unbearable pain. Closing her eyes, she continued to breath in sync with his. 

"Here's the wax," Alana announced as she spread the hot, thick blob on an area.

She was right: the heat wasn't too bad, but she moaned from the back of her throat nonetheless. The cloth was placed over the wax then Alana started to count, rubbing her fingers over every part of the square. 

"Three ... two ..." 

The strip was pulled briskly from her skin, the sound of ripped off flesh reverberated in the small room. An intense, sharp pain shot from her waist to the tips of her fingers to her toes then back to her crotch.

Gayle yelped in pain, grabbing the edges of the table so tight she thought the bones of her fingers would split apart. "Holy fuuuuu ..." she gasped, trying desperately to catch her breath, tears brimming in her eyes. "What happened with one?" she groaned.

"You need not worry. You are in good hands," Hamish comforted her. 

If they were good hands it wouldn't have hurt like fucking hell, Hamish! she chastised him mentally. Then it dawned on her that Alana had said she'd pull on one, not two. That damned Hamish! she cursed him. That's what they were talking about outside! I'm putting a laxative in your chicken soup, Mr. McDougal!

Heat returned to her pubic area where new wax was placed. Continuing her thoughts ... Here I was just thinking I'd try to be good and --

RIP!

She instantly tightened her upper body and cried out, though she controlled the volume of her scream. Tears rolled down to her ears as she rested her head back down. Hamish continued to talk soothingly into her ear but she couldn't hear anything he said. She could only feel every nerve ending erupting into an angry fire.

"Breath." She heard Hamish that time and covered her eyes with the inside of her elbow. "No," he responded and grabbed her hands, holding them firm. "I'm right here. Hold on to me."

Again and again the heat and burn covered every inch of her crotch. The worst was around the fleshiest portion of her vulva, and she was in full blown tears; her body shook with her sobs.

"Gayle? Do you know the difference between sensuous and kinky?" Hamish asked.

She shook her head hard back and forth, not really wanting any submissive lessons while she endured the hell she was going through.

Heat returned just outside her pussy lips ... cloth ... rub. "One ..." Alana said.

Loudly, Hamish finished with, "Sensuous is when I use a feather. Kinky is when I use the whole chicken."

RIP!

"Oh, God!" she screamed then burst into a fit of laughter as her body convulsed. She gripped Hamish's hands so tightly she was afraid she'd cut off his circulation. Getting control of herself again, she replied, "Thaaat was sooo not funny."

"But you laughed," he pointed out.

"In an hysterical fit of pain, Sir!" she corrected then laughed some more.

"Hang in there, love, you're almost done," Alana said.

Laughing again, Gayle told her, "I was done ten minutes ago." Then she regretted her comment and looked at Hamish to see if he was pissed. "Sorry. I don't have a good sense of humor when ..."

RIP! RIP!

"Yassa-fassa ... son of a ... holy mother ... of cryptonite!"

That time Hamish responded with laughter. Gayle wondered if Alana was a sadist from her omission of the countdown ... yet again.

Several minutes later, Alana was done with the wax, including the removal of the few hairs on her upper thighs. In Gayle's mind the worst was over, but she wasn't prepared for the tweezing of hairs missed from the wax. She was greatly relieved when Hamish didn't move, as he had threatened her earlier. 

With every single hair pulled, a little 'ow' escaped her lips. Hamish had gotten up and stood beside her head, no longer holding her hands and stifled a snicker with that one single word.

It then quickly sunk in that she wasn't prepared for the next step. "Now the ... rear view?" she asked.

"Yes," Alana replied as she moved around the room gathering the necessary tools. "Alright. Please know this is my job, albeit just part-time, but I have seen more bums than a normal human being should ever see." Alana chuckled. "I'm going to shave that area. The good news is it will not hurt."

"The BAD news is it will not hurt," Hamish added with a chuckle.

"Sir, your sense of humor needs improvement, if I may say," Gayle said with a laugh. There was nothing better than cracking a joke at times of stress.

"You may say it, but that doesn't make it true."

"Whatever you'd like to think, Sir." She smiled at him, and he smiled back. That smile went a long way to settling her nerves.

"Jump off for me. I've got to set some things up," Alana told Gayle.

Hamish stepped back and watched her get to her feet. His eyebrow rose as his eyes flitted to her breasts hidden behind the thin material of the blouse. Looking down, she was mortified to see how hard and erect her nipples were. It was humanly impossible to make them harder. Trying to cover them with her elbows, she heard him growl. When she looked at him he shook his head. She immediately put her arms beside her and sighed.

Alana placed a metal bowl filled with clean water on the removable tray at the foot of the bed along with a razor and a tin of some sort of foam, then put a folded towel on the table. "Get back up on the table on your knees, making sure your bum is over the towel." Alana instructed. 

When she did, she needed to keep her eyes buried in the crook of her arms to pretend what was going to happen wasn't really happening. Though she couldn't see Hamish, who was then standing at her knees, she still felt his presence. For some odd reason that alone made her completely calm.

A few minutes later Alana announced, "OK, all done!" 

Gayle let out a deep, long sigh then heard a soft chuckle from Hamish.

Taking a mental examination of her body, her bum was fine, but her crotch was burning and felt enflamed. 

Putting the items by the sink, glancing at her client as she walked by, she told her, "You may get on your back again, Gayle." After she did, she turned to Hamish. "Mr. McDougal, you wanted to apply the after cream?" She handed him a bottle.

What the hell! Gayle wanted to scream, but she kept it to herself.

"Yes, please."

After Alana closed the door behind her, he brushed hair away from Gayle's face, though it didn't need to be done. It touched her tremendously when she realized he was trying to sooth her, and she smiled at him.

"You did well, little fawn. So, have you learned your lesson?" 

Nodding emphatically, she answered, "Yes Sir. Absolutely, Sir!"

"Good. I understand you won't be able to get the back bits, but I'll take care of that for you."

"Sir? Is that really necessary?"

"Yes, it is. And I was watching, so I'm confident I can do it."

"May I debate it with you, Sir?" Her smile returned, letting him know she wasn't serious.

"Would you like a punishment to that already tender bum of yours?"

She smiled wider. "No Sir."

"Then there's your answer." 

Stepping between her feet at the end of the table, he told her to bend her knees and expose her treated area. Tentatively she did, which prompted him to tell her, "Relax, will you? I am not going to do anything other than apply this cream. You still do not trust me, Ms. Boyce. What a shame. I will have to prove myself further on that front."

Her body shivered, remembering how easily he'd made her orgasm the day before. While the thought thrilled her, there was also a sense of dread. 

"Lovely. Much, much better."

Hamish placed his semi-cold hands on the inside of her thighs and slowly moved them upwards. She sighed and closed her eyes, though he did not tell her to open them again. 

When he reached her pussy lips, he spread them with both thumbs. "My, my, Ms. Boyce. You are drenched. And you claim not to like pain. I shall remember that."

She cringed inside then waited impatiently for him to apply the cream so she could get the hell out of there.

Taking his time, he squirted the lotion in his palm and slowly ran it over her red, somewhat swollen crotch. The cool cream felt good, and the stinging slowly abated.

"Thank you, Sir," she whispered, ecstatic it was finally over. "It feels better."

A few minutes later, after he'd paid and they were walking out of the door, Hamish turned to Alana and told her, "See you tomorrow. Cheers!"

Gayle's mouth hung open wide as they walked onto the sidewalk. "Sir? May I ask what that was about?"

Hamish had been looking around for Hodges. "No, you may not."

"Do you know her?"

"Yes. And I thought I told you that you couldn't ask me about that."

"I didn't. I just changed the line of questioning."

He grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "Ms. Boyce, Alana works part-time at the office. Her mother owns the salon. That's how I was able to arrange an appointment at such short notice." 

"Oh." Hodges then pulled up alongside the curb. Quickly, she asked, "Did I do good?"

"Well," he corrected. "Yes, you did well."

Rolling her eyes, she smiled as they slipped into the back and the car pulled into the street. "Hi, guys," Gayle said cheerily. "Oh, my gosh! I smell the sugar from the icing! Did you find a cake you two liked?"

"We did, we did," David replied excitedly. "It's a red velvet cake with cream cheese buttercream."

"Oh, that sounds delicious! When is the big day?" she asked.

David and Phil looked at the other oddly just as Hamish grabbed her knee and squeezed hard, making her look at him sharply. "Enough," he whispered. Though he didn't seem angry, his tone was enough to heed his warning. 

She mouthed sorry, though she wasn't sure why she was. She was just being polite. No longer in the mood to chat, she leaned back and surveyed Edinburgh as they drove the city streets.

About fifteen minutes later, they turned off Prince's street and turned into a narrow side road and parked alongside another curb. "We won't be long," Hamish told David as they got out and walked toward a store window, his hand in the small of her back.

Gayle noticed the lingerie outfits and lacy thongs displayed in the window and kept on walking, but he tugged just enough to let her know they were going in. Holding the door open, she walked through and looked around. A large sign above the till opposite the door proclaimed 'Rose of Rose Street is here to help. Just ask.'




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 06



On one side there was a wall with several colors and shapes of panties and bras, and in the center were racks and racks of lingerie. 

"Sir? I'll need regular cotton briefs," she whispered.

"I know. That's why we're going this way."

She followed him to the left side of the store, where on the wall hung every size and variety of dildo and vibrator imaginable. She stopped in her tracks when she realized he'd brought her to an adult toy store. Her cheeks burned with the blush exploding on her face; it was so intense that even her neck and chest broke out in a rash.

"Sir? Why are we here?"

"I'm looking for a new car," he replied sarcastically.

"But ..."

"I need toys for you. Have you not been to a toy store before?" he asked, continuing to walk toward the wall.

She shook her head. "No! I have no reason to." She lied, not wanting to tell him she was just as embarrassed going with a co-worker when she was getting married.

"Well, we do now."

Oh, right, she huffed to herself. Shut up. Don't ask questions, Gayle Marice Boyce! 

Standing beside him as he perused the multitude of female torture play devices, he pulled out three different size toys: one metal, one with a curved tip and the other a plastic one with beads on the shaft.

Her attention was drawn to a heavy-set woman with hair colored purple in a short crop approach them. "Hi, I'm Rose. Ur ye tois lookin' fur anythin' specific?"

Hamish replied, "I'm looking for ..."

Gayle blocked him out and clammed up, avoiding eye contact with the woman. Just when she thought the worse of her humiliation was over, it only got worse. As her thoughts wandered again, she heard Hamish call her name. He and the woman were standing in an aisle. 

Tentatively stepping next to him, the saleswoman was showing him two different sized butt plugs. "Thes one is popular coz ay th' size. If ye want one wi' mair oomph, ay'd suggest thes because a th' vibration."

All she heard was the word vibration and she hugged herself. If this is the kind of store he has the mind to shop in today, she thought, then I'm in for a boat load of trouble and some ... fun?

"Let's go for this one," Hamish replied, pointing to the medium sized one; Gayle had no idea if it was the vibrating one or not. "Where might the vibrating eggs be?"

While Gayle liked eggs, preferably sunny side up, she sure as shit didn't want one that vibrated.

Following the lady, Hamish went straight for one in particular and picked it up. This went on a few more times as they travelled the displays, before he had a handful of a variety of vibrators and went to the cash register. Her mouth almost dropped to the floor when it came to almost two hundred pounds. He didn't blink at all, paid cash and walked out into the street.

Humiliation number three was when she had to get in the back of the car knowing David and Phil knew exactly where they were and exactly what they were getting. She didn't say a word as they drove to the next destination.

This time David had to let them out on the end of the street because of traffic, which Gayle didn't mind. She appreciated walking for a change, and thankfully he wasn't in a rush. The problem was that she was nervous as hell as to what store he was taking her into this time.

When they passed a woman carrying a Starbucks cup, she looked around frantically looking for the café. Seeing it coming up on their side of the street, she practically begged him to let her get a Mocha.

"What would you like?" he asked kindly.

"OH! Thank you, Sir! Venti Mocha with two pumps peppermint."

He narrowed his eyes on her, amused. "Picky, are we?"

"No Sir. I just know what I like."

Approaching the door, she put her hand on the handle, but he didn't stop. She looked at him confused then followed him, greatly disappointed; she didn't bother to hide it.

He picked up on it. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, Ms. Boyce. You've no money, remember?" he reminded her.

But you do, you cheap shit! she thought. Why did I even think you'd be a man and offer to spend five pounds on a damned cup of coffee? She seethed inside as they continued to walk.

A few doors further down, Hamish opened the door of Effie's Cashmere Corner and Gayle walked through without looking at him or thanking him. Not knowing exactly what type of clothing he had in mind, she kept a few steps behind him in silence admiring all of the soft, beautiful sweaters of various colors of cashmere. 

"Good morning!" a cheery woman said as she came up to them. "What are you looking for today?"

Gayle remained quiet as Hamish answered, "A pair of jeans and a blouse. Nothing fancy, quite simple."

"Easy enough," she said as she led them to a rack of neatly folded jeans. "You're a size ten, I would think."

"No ma'am. I'm an eight."

"Oh! You're American. That is a ten here, dear." It wasn't said condescendingly at all. "Take a look at the selection, and you'll want a size ... twelve for a blouse. They run a little smaller here. When you're done, the fitting rooms are in the corner."

Before Gayle could thank her, Hamish beat her to it and the saleswoman walked away. She was about to start looking through the jeans but he again beat her to it, so she stood still. He didn't look at the style or the color of the denim. He'd pull out the price tag and look at it, either scoff or shake his head.

Handing her three pairs, she whispered, "Sir? I'm not wearing any underwear."

"Then you should select the ones that will fit your perfectly. Which one do you like?" He made it clear with the tone of his voice that she should chose only one. 

She so wanted to cuss him out. Instead, she flipped them open one by one and put them up to her waist. Quickly, she said, "This pair." 

Without being told, she folded the looser jeans, debating whether she should say anything about the blouses. She decided against it. Getting a new outfit was much better than a cup of coffee. She didn't dare push her luck.

Following him around, he carefully chose four different tops -- one blouse, one sweater and two tunics -- all shades of red and low-cut, handing her each one to hold. He never gave her the opportunity to decide whether she liked them or not. While she was relieved they were V-neck, mainly because it lessened her broad shoulders, it was too low for her taste. 

Not saying a word, he put her hand in the small of her back and led her to the single fitting room the size of a closet; the doors were all the way to the carpet. Stepping through, she tried to close the door but Hamish stood in the way -- he didn't just stand in the doorway, he walked in and closed the door behind him.

Looking at him in shock, she said, "Sir! You can't be in here!" 

He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "I don't see the saleswoman dragging me out while screaming hysterically." 

She wanted to blast him, saying, 'Don't I get any damned privacy?!' But she just sighed, hung the tops up and slipped her thumbs under the skirt. 

"Nu uh," he grunted as he sat on the bench. "Stand easy, arms at your side."

Oh! For God's sake! she sputtered in her mind. Standing before him, she spread her legs, fisted her hands and looked above his head; her lips were pursed tight.

"Tsk, tsk," he said, clearly upset. "How are you standing that I didn't instruct you?"

She knew exactly what he was talking about. Her nails had been digging painfully into her palms, so she flexed them a few times, leaving them loose.

He shook his head. "You're partly right." 

Hamish reached his hands up to her cheeks and pulled her head down gently until their lips were two inches apart. Gayle's eyes flew open and looked into his soft eyes, her heart beat picking up its pace. Wanting desperately to clasp his wrists and pull away from him, she couldn't because her body was frozen. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the wanted kiss that Bessie had inconveniently interrupted. His eyes flirted over her taut lips before he brought their lips together. 

Holding her breath until she felt his warm, full lips against hers, she opened them slightly to give her lips to him. He brushed his lips once against hers, nibbled on her bottom lip then pulled back, not letting go of her face. When she finally opened her eyes, neither broke the intense stare. As the seconds ticked by, the more her face flushed and her entire body erupted in desire. 

"Much, much better. Gayle, are you afraid of me?" Skirting his hands down her shoulders to her arms then hands, he took them and held them lightly.

Scared of you, Hamish? she thought. A little. Scared of what you will do to me? A lot. Scared of what I'm feeling right now? Hell, yes. 

"No Sir," she finally said, hoping he'd believe her.

"Then why have you been so quiet? And why are you shaking?" His eyes conveyed nothing but genuine concern and empathy.

Only when he brought it to her attention did she realize she was indeed shaking a little. "Sir? Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie?"

That gave him his answer. He momentarily closed his eyes and shook his head. Letting go of one of her hands, he patted the seat beside him, and when she sat down, he put their clasped hands on his thigh, as he had done before.

"Gayle, I do not wish to make you nervous or scared. If I have, then I apologize." He took a deep breath. "I'm going through something right now, and I'm not ready to discuss it. I didn't realize I wasn't handling it as well as I thought I was, or should be. I never have." 

His voice shook, and it took all he had to control his tears. He had never spoken of his mother, even to Jack or other close, life-long friends, and he wasn't about to start then.

Her heart melted for him. She might not know what the truth was, and she didn't have the right to know. Regardless, this moment of connection touched her deeply. She couldn't think of a damned thing to say, so she simply squeezed his hand.

Looking away, he said, "I'm sorry." His voice cracked further, and she could then see his eyes filling with moisture.

"Hamish, Sir," she started, praying he wouldn't chastise her. "Yes, you've been a little ... harsher than I was expecting, but you have also shown me kindness ... except for teasing me with the Starbucks coffee." She hoped he would at least smile. It was difficult for her to express her true feelings and would make a joke out of anything of an emotional matter.

He did smile, though. "Snap." She frowned, not really understanding what it meant. "I agree with you." Then she smiled. "I didn't realize I was ... becoming so intense. 

Stepping in front of him between his knees, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hug, brushing her warm cheek against his. "Thank you, Sir. I will try my best to make things easier for you, I really will."

He pulled his head back, smiled and promptly smacked her ass hard. "OW! What was that for?!"

"You used my given name."

"Darn, I thought you'd let it slide."

"You were mistaken, then." He smiled. "And thank you. Now, you have some tops to show me.

----------------------

Gayle and Hamish had split up so she could get her undies, socks and 'monthly necessities while he went to the bank only a block away. When she was done, she waited impatiently in the car with David and Phil, no longer in the mood to talk to either of them, not that she didn't want to, but her thoughts were elsewhere. 

Thinking about what Hamish had said in the fitting room, as well as the way he touched her while she changed into each top, kept roaming around in her head. Only when the car shook and the door closed did she turn to see Hamish sitting next to her, a sealed paper bag sitting between his feet.

"A peace offering," he said, handing her a large Starbucks cup.

She smiled widely and took it from him. "Thank you, Sir, but you didn't have to."

"No, I didn't," he replied sternly, but the curve of his lips made her smile.

After taking a sip, David announced, "And off we go! You aren't feeding your employees very well, Master." There was a bit of sarcasm when he said 'Master.'

"Bollocks, Hodges!" Hamish replied. "I give you free pickings of your garden labors."

"That's not quite true. Jessie provides plenty of fruits and vegetables from her garden, and I sell your produce at the market, which only provides enough wonga for half a chicken!" 

"Drive, will you?!" Then he laughed. Turning to her, he said, "We're going to the Black Horse pub close to home. They do a wonderful ploughmans."

"What's a ploughmans, Sir? It isn't anything like that skulking sink soup, is it?"

He laughed at the wrong name. "It's Cullen skink, you daft Herbert. And no, it's cheese and pickle served with a chunk of bread and some salad."

"That doesn't sound very filling, and I am starving."

He shook his head. "Having no breakfast was your fault, might I remind you."

"It was Bessie's fault, Sir, not mine." Shut up, Gayle! Shut UP!

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I must have trained my canine better than I thought if she can open doors. Agreed?"

"Um, no?" she answered playfully.

"Ms. Boyce, I've bought you something special, and I'm beginning to consider returning it."

Gayle opened her mouth to continue the playful banter but decided not to. Whatever he had gotten must have been a big deal if he bribed her with it, and it piqued her curiosity.

"I shall forever keep my mouth shut, Sir," she said in a horrible British accent.

"That is an impossibility, Ms. Boyce," Hamish snickered. "And lose that horrid accent."

"You're no fun," she smiled.

"That's because your idea of fun and mine are two different things."

Picturing the dungeon, she couldn't argue. "That's very true. You win."

"Of course I win. I always win."

"I let you win." Damn, girl! Knock it off!

He gave her one death glare, which was enough to kill her smile and shut her up. She sipped her coffee, looked out the window and thought of the way he touched her in the dressing room as she changed from one top to another. His hands were incredibly soft on her skin as they ran over her waist and stomach to her breasts. Inhaling sharply when he'd tweaked her nipples, she'd closed her eyes. But she wasn't prepared for when he'd clinched his teeth around them and lightly suckled. 

Throwing her head back and closing her eyes, trying not to feel what she was feeling, her body had responded by sending a trembling wave directly to her pussy. For the first time she'd wanted more of his touch. She'd also wondered what he would feel like the first time they ...

"Are you going to get out or sit there whilst we eat, Ms. Boyce?"

"Huh?" she mumbled and looked up to find Hamish holding the door open and peering down on her curiously. "Oh, sorry, Sir."

When she first saw the building on the side of the road, she thought it was a house. It was a two story, white stucco building and rather charming. The windows were framed with dark-stained wood; the first floor had window boxes filled with multi-colored flowers.

The entrance was on the side, where David and Phil were waiting, and as soon as they walked through the door Hamish was standing so close to her it was as if he had super-glued himself to her. She fought with herself to accept his protectiveness, and it was easier than she thought.

While she watched David and Phil walk to a table, she noticed the pub was packed with people and very loud, being that it was the lunchtime rush. Everything was dark wood, including the tables and chairs in the center of the room and booths lined the walls on three sides. It was definitely a warm and inviting room.

Gayle had just turned to Hamish to ask if they should seat themselves, but he led her to the bar. She was aware of several diners looking at them closely as they walked past, but from their smiles they weren't critical stares. 

Only when she saw their reflections in the mirror behind the bar did she notice how well they complimented each other. With his dark features and ginger hair and her dark hair and light complexion, they provided a lovely contrasting couple. 

"Mr. Hamish!" the bartender said excitedly. "Fancy seeing you in here!"

"Carl, I'm here at least once a month," Hamish replied. "I'll have my usual." Turning to Gayle, he asked, "What would you like?"

She felt like celebrating now that they had a semi-breakthrough, but she wanted her wits about her. "Cranberry juice and vodka, I guess."

As they waited for their drinks, Hamish didn't take his eyes off of her. She felt the heat of his eyes burrow into her face, and she shuffled her feet nervously, noticing for the first time that her feet were getting sore.

Hamish gave the barman, who happened to be named Charlie, their order for four ploughmans and took their drinks and led her to a booth. 

"Was there any change from your shopping?" Hamish asked as they sat down.

"Oh, yes Sir," she replied. "I left it in the car. I felt like an idiot looking at the coins when she gave me the change back. Thank you for the clothes. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome." 

That was it for the conversation between the two for several minutes. Gayle glanced around the room, and her eyes settled on four military men sitting at the bar high-fiving each other, drinks in hand. It appeared they had made some accomplishment, but considering they spoke loudly, she couldn't hear what they were saying.

The olive green, long-sleeved uniform was one piece, with white patches just above the knees, though she couldn't see if they had any writing on them or if they were pockets. It was clinched at the waist and zipped from the crotch to the neat collar. On each shoulder was a patch of cloth, and again she couldn't tell what the individual patches on it were. 

Their full name was stitched on a black and yellow patch just below the left collar bone on the breast. Underneath the suit was a dark grey t-shirt. 

While she had an infinity for the U.S. formal naval uniform, there was something raw and sexy about those four men. It might have been their muted accents or how hot they looked, or it might have been ...

Suddenly, Hamish's voice drowned out her thoughts as she had been observing the men. "...right here and now, take you over my knee, lift your skirt and give you twenty hard smacks on each cheek until you are screaming at me to stop."

Her eyes bolted to his and gave him a sharp look, wondering why he would say such a thing. She hadn't done anything, not really. She just ... OH! My god! He's jealous! 

Before she could explain herself, Charlie called out, "Hamish! Got your order here." 

He lifted his hand to him to let him know he'd heard him. "Now, I want you to go to the bar, shoulders back, head held high and bring back our plates. Hodges and Phil are sitting right there, so take theirs as well."

It was a challenge he was giving her, she realized, and she was up for the challenge. "Where are they sitting?" Hamish nodded, and she turned to see them sitting close to the bar. "Yes Sir. I can do that. I am a waitress, after all." Walking away, she berated herself for sounding like Sookie on True Blood, not that he would know anything about vampires.

Walking toward the bar, she saw the four plates besides the military men and took a deep breath. Stepping to the bar, she tried to pretend they weren't there, but she got a whiff of their cologne, or manly smell, whatever the hell it was, and it made her hands tremble.

Smiling nervously, she grabbed two plates to take to David and Phil and turned to walk away when her heel caught in the narrow floor rug. She stumbled but didn't fall. One of the men took her elbow and steadied her, thankfully saving the food. 

"Are you alright, miss?" the man asked in the sexiest Scottish accent she had ever heard -- besides the only other Scottish man she knew, Hamish.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 06



"I ... I'm fine. Thank you," she replied, trying to control her tone but not the wild blushing that broke out on her cheeks.

Seeing David and Phil, she took them their plates. "Here you go, guys," Gayle said cheerily as she put the plates in front of them. "At least I didn't fall on my face," she chuckled.

Taking a deep breath, she went back to the bar for the other two plates, and thankfully held her chin up. Smiling as she walked away, one of the men said, "Enjoy your meal, miss."

She smiled to herself before walking back to their table where she was surprised to see Hamish standing at the end. She put the plates on the table and scooted to the inside by the wall before he sat beside her.

Looking at her plate, she was happy to see it was more food than she expected and would definitely fill her up. She was about to grab the slice of bread, but she pulled back then looked at Hamish. Not liking the expression of jealousy and a bit of anger on his face, she said, "Sir, I'm not going home with those men. I'm going home with you."

His furrowed eyebrows slowly relaxed, and he smiled back. "Ms. Boyce, I don't think anyone has said anything so poignantly eloquent to me."

"I've always wanted to use that line. So, no spanking, then, Sir?"

"No. Not today, damn it."

Both laughing, Gayle was grateful for the change in his mood. She'd been waiting for him to say something about her making a fool of herself at the bar, but he didn't. He simply said, "Yes, you may eat."

While they ate, Gayle asked, "Sir? What uniforms are the men wearing?"

"And you take a beautiful comment and throw it in my face," he said seriously.

She had just put a piece of cheese in her mouth when he said that, and her eyes flew open. Covering her mouth, she replied, "What? No, no Sir! I just assumed—" Then he laughed, which calmed her down. "Are they with Leuchars?"

"They are pilots, and their navigators responsible for that racket you heard on Saturday as they flew over the lake. The name badges show not only their names but their aircrew designation. The pilots have a pair of wings and the navigators a single wing. Do you find the men sexy?"

Sipping her mixed drink, she answered, "They're sexy in a ... different way than our military, Sir. The marine fatigues are hot as hell, and I always thought my grandfather looked very handsome in his Naval formal. But yes, they're sexy in a rugged sort of way."

He kept his eyes on her as he finished his whisky. "Another, Ms. Boyce?"

"No Sir," she replied, looking at her barely touched drink. "I usually don't drink this early, but I feel like—" She had to stop herself from saying what she was thinking earlier.

"Hold that thought," Hamish said, then he went to bar, got his refill and returned. "You were saying?"

Flippantly, she answered, "I was saying our marine fatigues—"

"You know what I mean," he huffed. "You feel like what?"

Taking another longer sip of her drink to gather her thoughts, she replied, "I'm beginning to know you a little better. And when you asked me if I was afraid of you, I'm not. But in the dressing room, when you were ... touching me like you did, I liked it."

"That doesn't answer my question."

She sighed. "I felt like I you let your wall down, and I wanted to celebrate."

There was a devilish gleam in his eyes. "Celebrate. Now that I like. So, you prefer to make love slowly and tenderly rather than being taken roughly?"

Her pussy tingled when he'd said, 'make love.' She never once thought of it that way. "Yes Sir, I think most women do."

That must have struck a nerve with him. "That will change, eventually."

Mentally shoveling dirt onto her own grave, they ate their food in relative silence. Leaving just a little bit of cheese, she finished her first mixed drink. Without a word, he went back to the bar, got both of them another drink and came back. 

"Are you getting tipsy yet?" he asked playfully but with a twinge of seriousness as he sipped his own drink.

"Far from it, Sir. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Not disappointed. I shall get pissed enough for the both of us."

Picking at the remaining cheese, she was stopped cold when he leaned his upper torso over until his shoulder touched hers. Whispering in her ear, he said, "Ms. Boyce, spread your knees."

Her eyes flew open, and she didn't move, but her heart skipped a beat.

"So be it." His hand was hidden underneath the plastic table cover as he slid his left hand to her waist and slipped it between her thighs. 

"Sir!" she screeched, her eyes wide and in shock. "What are—"

"Shh. Since you admitted you liked my touch, and from the look in your eyes when I did, I want to see how much I've affected you."

No! NO! Not here! she repeated in her head. 

His hand cupped her crotch, the tips of his fingers just at her entrance and moved his hand up. She gasped when he rubbed her hard, sensitive clit then brought his hand out.

"Oh, yes," he said quietly as brought his finger out and looked at it. "You are indeed nicely wet."

She couldn't think of a damned thing to say to deny it. Shocked, he brought his middle finger to her lips, but she pulled away. "Taste," he ordered, "and look me in the eyes when you do."

He hadn't let up on her refusal to spread her legs, and she knew she wouldn't get away with not taking his finger then. Bracing herself and looking into his eyes, she opened her lips, somewhat reluctantly, and took his finger into her mouth. Her essence tasted salty and sweet, nothing like she expected. 

Not even thinking what she was doing, she rubbed the top of her tongue on the bottom of his finger, and he visibly took in a breath. With his reaction, she closed her lips around his finger and licked her juices off.

"Fuuuck meee," he breathed heavily as he pulled his hand back, but not his body. "Ms. Boyce, lean toward me, hands on the table and hold them naturally."

She did so, their shoulders locked, and he leaned his head towards her ear. She wanted to close her eyes from any stares they may get, but she wanted to see what he was going to do. 

"Now close your eyes."

Well, shit! she cursed, but she did as she was told. 

"You have no idea how badly I would love to take you right now." His hand slithered under her upper arm, his fingernails scraping hard against her skin, which sent shivers through her and goose bumps appeared. 

"But when I do it will be your choice." He cupped her breast and pinched her nipple, making her take in a deep breath.

"I want you to enjoy it as much as I know I will." Twisting her then hard nipple, he said, "I want you to beg for it, for me."

Her mouth dropped open and her breathing became shallow and fast; her cheeks burned. "Breath, Gayle. Someone is coming. Open your eyes and act naturally. I will not remove my hand. He will not see."

A split second later, a man approached them. He was a heavy-set man and rather short. With a severe accent, he said, "PJ! What the fu ... hell are you doing here!?" 

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Hamish chuckled. The men shook hands then he said, "F.E.B, I'd like you to meet Ms. Gayle Boyce, my new maid." There was nothing offensive about the way he said it.

"Hello," Gayle croaked, extending her hand to shake his offered one, praying this F.E.B. couldn't see where his hand was.

"Bugger, I've got to run, sorry. We should get together again, mate."

"That we should! I will ring you."

"Enjoy your day, PJ," F.E.B. said and he walked away.

Gayle finally breathed, but she didn't move until he released her nipple and sat back. "Nicely done, little fawn."

It was almost a full minute before she gained some control over herself, but she was speechless. "I am proud of you. You did well."

She simply smiled shyly.

"I bet you are curious who that man was, are you not?" he asked.

Taking a sip of her drink, she simply nodded.

"We went to university together, good mates, and I haven't seen him in almost a year."

"Where did the nicknames come from?" she asked, relieved her voice had somewhat returned to normal.

"He calls me PJ for Poxy jock."

"What the heck does that mean?"

He laughed. "We were fighting over the same girl, and I called him a Fat English Bastard. He retaliated. A poxy jock is someone that has syphilis, thus the PJ." She looked at him strangely. "Pox on the cock? Get it?"

Gayle couldn't even laugh. She just shook her head. Her boss was indeed slowly letting his wall down.

-----------------------------

An hour later, empty plates and three drinks down to Gayle's two, Hamish had been telling her a time when he was a cadet and he'd blown himself up with a thunderflash. Hamish had thrown it into a muddy pool and when it hadn't gone off he'd leant over the water to see why. It had, of course, decided to go bang at that point, covering him from head to toe in mud as well as making his ears ring for a week."

"Oh my God! You did NOT!" she burst out laughing. 

"I did! Oh, good times," Hamish laughed then brought his almost-empty glass to his lips when David walked towards them.

"Sorry, Hamish. Phil has to head to the flower shop before it closes."

"Right," Hamish replied, that one word a little slurred.

"Oh, Lord," David mumbled under his breath. "Now I know why you asked me to drive." He walked away laughing.

"So, did you enjoy your lunch?" he asked, looking at her affectionately.

She didn't know whether to be shy or flattered. "I did, Sir. Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome. I've had a splendid time, as well. Now, you stay here, take your last few sips whilst I pay the bill." 

She watched every move he made as he went to the bar, trying to dig the change out of his pocket before dropping most of it. He brushed against the chair of one diner unsteadily as he picked it up on one knee, but the woman didn't notice. She loved his tush -- only God knew why she was staring at it like she was. No, wait. She knew.

When he turned around, his bulging crotch met her eyes, and she had to take a deep, desperate breath. She tried to look away, but the closer he got the fuller the bulge appeared. She had to force herself to look him in the face.

"You like?" he asked seductively as he stood at the end of the table.

Shut up, Gayle. Shut UP! 

Silently, she stood up and he took her hand, wrapping it around his elbow. Ms. Gayle Boyce knew she was a goner.

-----------------------------

"I'm am dying for this cupcake!" she said as they walked into the kitchen. "I'll save it for dinner."

"I'll let Bessie out while you hang up your clothes," Hamish said as he put the car keys on the kitchen table.

"Sir," Gayle started as she went to him and put her hand on his arm. "Thank you for the tops, jeans and things. I feel ... a little better about being here."

Kissing him on his cheek, she ran out the kitchen door with Hamish hollering after her. "Put on one of your uniforms and meet me in the small drawing room!" She didn't hear his chuckle.

"Yes Sir!" she yelled back as she bounded up the stairs, bags in hand.

With a huge smile on her face -- why, she had no idea -- she hung up the blouse and folded the two tunics and sweater then put them as well as the socks and undies in the dresser. Changing into the apron with a white, sheer top and black skirt which barely covered her crotch, she went to the bathroom and put the remaining items under the sink. 

Taking a quick peek at her hair and make-up, she ran a brush through her tresses and applied some base and blush. 

What are you doing?! she asked her reflection. I still have no idea, she heard in her head.

Slowing down and taking the steps carefully, she stepped into the room and saw Hamish sitting in his recliner, Bessie at his side. When the dog saw her she ran to her, and Gayle petted her, talking to her like nothing had happened.

"Ms. Boyce, come here, please."

She couldn't read the intention in his voice, but she went to him and stood in front of him at ease, that being the designated pose when none was ordered. She was starting to catch on big time. He looked up at her with a smile on her face as his eyes skirted her body. Leaning forward, he put his hands on her hips.

"Lovely, my dear. Breathtaking." She blushed wildly as he sat back and put his hands on the arm rest. "Kneel."

Without even thinking, she got on her knees, spread them then put her hands on her thighs, her head down. "No, look at me." When she looked up, he said, "You've told me you will do your best to submit to me. Do you still feel the same?"

"Yes Sir, I do."

"Do you know what I'd like from you now?"

Her cheeks brightened redder. She had an idea, and remembering his hard on in the pub, she was already picturing herself giving him head, though she didn't want to admit it to herself at the time. Playing it safe, she replied, "No Sir."

Unfastening his belt and jeans and pulling them just past his hips, he scooted his legs out and looked at her with lustful and hungry eyes. "Have any clue yet?"

She smiled when she saw his still-hard bulge under his briefs, and felt her upper chest breaking out in a rash, as it sometimes did when she would get turned on. "I do, Sir." But she didn't move. He hadn't told her to.

He didn't move either. He just sat there and continued to stare. She, on the other hand, was beginning to squirm as her clit grew and began to throb. Her heart pounded so fast and furiously she had to control her breathing.

"Untie the top for me."

She did, yet she didn't feel as vulnerable and self-conscious as she had before. The material was thin, yes, but her nipples still responded when it fell down over them. Before she could put her hands back, he told her to scoot to the end of the chair. She did that, too, happily. 

"Take my cock, Gayle."

She was beginning to like him using her first name, but she still didn't want to get too used to it. Putting her hands on his knees, she shifted them up to the inside of his thighs. With her right hand, she reached up toward his penis, but he grabbed it and pushed it away.

"Hands behind your back and find my cock with your mouth."

If her clit had throbbed before, with those words her pussy responded. "Yes Sir," she gurgled then held onto her wrists tightly behind her.

At first she kept her eyes locked onto his as she leaned forward and dug her mouth at the opening of the briefs. Having to move the fabric out of the way, her bottom lip brushed against his cock, and she knew she was in the right place. With her tongue, she slipped it between the slit and found his hard, velvety cock. Desire for him quickly evaded her body, and she eagerly put her tongue on the base, slipped it up and pulled it out by the tip. 

She felt the pre-cum as she took the tip between her lips, she was about to take it in her mouth when he put his hands on her cheeks and pushed her away slightly. "Did I tell you to take my cock?"

She was stunned for a moment. "No Sir," she replied meekly.

"Correct. I only told you to find it. Do you want it, Ms. Boyce?"

She nodded adamantly. "Yes Sir."

"Beg for it."

She swallowed hard, but she managed to say, "Please, Sir. May I take your cock in my mouth?"

He waited for what felt like an hour, but in reality was probably only a minute, when he told her, "Yes. You may take my cock."

Smiling, she thanked him before she wrapped her lips around the head and flicked her tongue underneath. He groaned from the back of his throat, let go of her face and sat back. His cock pulsated in her mouth as she took more of him in, teasing him with her tongue. 

Lowering her head, she tried to take as much of him as she could, but he was thick and it was difficult. Just before she reached her gag reflex, she pulled back and began to run her lips up and down his shaft alternating the pressure she gave. 

"Hmm, yes," he purred. 

When she looked up at him he had a stupid grin on his face, but it gave her the incentive to continue what she was doing.

For several minutes she worked his manhood, and at some point, she didn't know when, he'd pulled up his undershirt and she saw his belly. To her that only meant one thing: He was close to coming.

Feeling thrilled with herself, not just because of that but because she actually liked giving him head, she threw everything into pleasing him. When the head was as far back in her throat that she could handle, she lightly sucked him with her throat muscles. She barely noticed how wet she had become until she felt a thin trickle run down her thighs.

"Yes, don't ... stop. Fuck, that feels ..." 

His sudden grunt caught in the back of his throat as he spurted his semen into her mouth. She freaked for a brief moment before he took his cock and brought the tip over his stomach, letting the remaining creamy, white semen pool as he massaged the base of his shaft. 

Watching him, though his eyes were closed, his breathing was incredibly shallow, and his cheeks were as red as her own. She was surprised her own breathing was fast as well. Between breaths, he told her his library was open and to wet a washcloth.

Well, fuck, she thought to herself as she followed his instruction. No release for me?! Shit. 

When she returned to him, she knelt again before him and gently cleaned his belly until no come remained. He watched with curious eyes as she did. When she was done, she held the cloth and waited.

He leaned forward, and with a very pleased grin, said, "Well, it seems I don't have to train you on oral. You were perfect. I don't usually come that quickly, but watching you move around the pub was sexy as hell." 

She wasn't sure if she should thank him for the compliment or not, so she just smiled.

"I have a few phone business calls to make. Why don't you go upstairs and relax a bit."

He kissed her hard and passionately, only making her want him more. Dissatisfied, she nodded and went upstairs to her bedroom, closing and locking the door. Screw that! she huffed to herself. 

Taking off the apron, she hung it up and laid on the bed on her stomach, slipping her hand between her thighs. A flashback of being at Hamish's knees and sucking on him came to her, and she giggled like a teenager. She moaned softly as she rubbed the pad of her finger around her swollen nub, gradually adding pressure to where it was perfect. If she thought her clit was sensitive before, it was so much more now she could barely touch it.

It didn't take her long to come, her moans muffled as she bit softly into her forearm. She had to lay there for several minutes to catch her breath, but she wore a smile as she did.

Downstairs in his library, Hamish had been watching her in her bedroom on his computer, and he, too, was smiling. He knew she wouldn't last long, but he thought it would have been longer than three days.

Picking up the phone, he made an appointment for six that night with Karen Winchester. He looked at his watch, just under three hours until then.

Disconnecting the camera that he'd placed on top of the dressing bureau, he made her a promise that he'd never turn it on again. After all, he'd gotten what he wanted. 

"My little fawn, you are in for a rude awakening."

-------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Regarding what was in the bag that Hamish said was a present for Gayle, it will come up soon!

SCOOTER'S NOTE: Will it be painful??? 



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 07



AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Being belittled and unnecessarily criticized shows nothing of your character, but it shows a lot of the other person's."

I know it's been a bit longer to get this out as it has the other chapters, but I've been threatened by death to finish Hiliad's Special Gift.

And as always, a big shout out to my cherished Editor. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gayle slipped out of bed, knowing full well how flushed her face and chest were. She might have thought she was a strong woman, but her body had apparently decided to betray her. After putting his collar on, she debated whether to put the apron back on too, but decided against it, though slipped the heels on with a groan. 

Heading downstairs to the kitchen to find something to make for dinner, she met Bessie at the foot of the stairs. "Bessie! Hey, girl. Do you have to go potty? Let's find your daddy to get your leash."

Going to Hamish's library, she saw him sitting behind his desk staring at the computer deep in thought. Stopping in the doorway, she wasn't sure exactly what to do because he hadn't acknowledged her. She remembered the submissives at The Crucible sitting at their Master's and Mistress's feet and figured that was a good place to start.

Quietly walking towards him, he clicked the mouse a few times but he never said anything. The edge of the rug was by the chair, thankfully, so she knelt, rested her bum on her heels, put the back of her hands on her thighs and kept her head down.

Several minutes passed before he said, though didn't look at her, "Do you have something you want to tell me, Ms. Boyce?" His voice wasn't angry, but there was an underlying tone she couldn't ascertain.

She replied without looking up, "I wanted to ask you for the leash to take Bessie out, Sir."

"No need. I've taken her out. Anything else?"

"Oh, that's right." Horrible attempt, there, idiot! she thought. "What would you like for dinner? Do you still want the bacon sardines?" she asked, purposefully making up the name to get some kind of reaction out of him.

"Jessie will be here at five to make us dinner, and you will serve. What else?" 

That wasn't exactly the reaction she wanted. She wondered how the hell he could have gone from being silly and laughing so easily to being so callous. And the wall comes slamming back down. 

Trying to remain calm, she looked up at him and asked, "Sir? Are you angry with me?"

He finally turned to look at her, and the expression on his face told her everything. She had gone to the bathroom to clean herself up before she came down, but she didn't think he could smell ... wait, he knew her scent from when he went down on her. 

There's no way! Oh, fuck! she groaned to herself. He can smell my ...?! She hung her head in shame. "Sir, I ... In my bed, I ... Sir, I ... played with myself." 

"Did you come?" She nodded. "And did I give you permission?" She shook her head. "Did you forget your orgasms are mine?" Amazingly, his voice remained calm. 

Tears filled her eyes and she did feel ashamed of herself. He put his fingers under her chin and pushed it up to look into her eyes. He hesitated a moment before he said, "Your tears tell me you are remorseful for disobeying me, but I'm afraid I can't let your transgression go."

"I understand, Sir. I'm sorry."

"You might be sorry, but the fact remains you've blatantly defied me. I am really going to enjoy your punishment Friday," he added, as if an afterthought. "Head down and remain as you are." 

He turned around, picked up the phone, dialed several numbers, made an appointment with the dial tone for six and hung up. Then he went back to his computer. Barely able to control his elation at another chance for training, his mind reeled with two things: One -- How to punish her; and Two -- what he could have her do for the next three hours waiting for Karen to arrive.

Recalling the multiple times his old uni mate John Ramsay had shown him how to bind someone with rope, he thought now was as good a time as any to see what he remembered. 

Letting ten minutes slip by, he went to a shelf next to the fireplace and pressed a hidden button to open his small dressing room-sized play room. There he kept his goodies: The bench he'd used, several floggers and a cherished whip, and other fun toys. 

Grabbing several knotted ropes, a clothes pin, nipples clamps, a blindfold and some tissues from the bathroom, he approached Gayle and handed her the wipes. "Dry your eyes, Ms. Boyce." Sniffling, she did so then he secured the blindfold over her eyes. "Can you see anything?" 

She tilted her head every which way before she replied, "No Sir."

She prayed he wouldn't be too harsh with her, but she also knew she deserved everything she had coming. 

Moving the two leather chairs aside to give him room, Hamish untied the lengths of rope and laid them neatly beside a sharp utility knife, used in case she panicked and needed to be released quickly. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. 

"Come. At ease," Hamish said, and when she got on her feet, he gave her directions as she took small steps toward his voice. "Good. At least you are listening to me now," he chortled as she stood in front of him.

He slipped one length of rope through the collar ring and pulled it through. As he did, it would either snap against a breast or her stomach, though not painfully, or scrape against her skin. Knowing it was rope but not able to see exactly where it would land, whenever it did it would cause goose bumps, forcing a startled gasp at the sensation. It felt like a knife was scraping her skin, not a harmless rope. 

For what felt like forever, he continued to bring more rope front and back, here and there, around her back and then tugged tightly in the front. She was bound very securely, and though she tried, she couldn't move her arms a millimeter. Strands of the rope ran over her shoulders, her upper arms and forearms, held into place as it ran under her breasts to her back, just at the shoulder blades. She felt the strain in her shoulders at the unnatural angle, but she tried to fight past it.

Unexpectedly, a sense of calmness invaded her completely, though it came from the inside out. She couldn't understand why or how, but she didn't fight it. She felt ... safe.

"Ms. Boyce, what is your color?" he asked as he stood behind her with his hand gently on her shoulder.

She hesitated as she thought. "Green, Sir."

"Very good."

He circled her several times admiring her body, not his work. He also noticed her nipples had sprung up nicely, which gave him another idea. He then took another length of rope behind her back and brought it to her front. Letting the ends fall to the floor, he cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples, getting an instant response as they grew harder. She moaned under her breath as her mouth dropped. 

As he was playing with her nipples, surges of electricity coursed through her body, and she began to feel a little weak in the knees. 

Taking the rope he'd just put on, he wrapped it around a breast three times, making sure it was tight enough to bring the mounds out further, then tied it in the back. Again he repeated the steps with another length and her other breast was bound. 

"Lovely, but let me check something," he said with a hint of evil. 

He brought his hand between her legs until he reached her clit, purposely not touching it before he reached his goal. First running it over the folds of her pussy, the moisture that met his fingertip made his cock twinge in an instant.

"I see you are enjoying this," he commented then stepped back. 

Yes, she was enjoying it, but she didn't understand why. She was afraid to answer, and since it wasn't a question, she didn't say anything. 

"I'm curious, how does it feel?"

"It makes me feel ... safe, secure. It feels good, actually, Sir."

"Have you dabbled in bondage?" She shook her head, but he promptly smacked an ass cheek. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer."

"Yes Sir," she croaked. "No, I've never been bound." 

"And nipple clamps?"

Her stomach churned with nerves. "No Sir."

"Would you like to try them?"

No. Yes. Maybe. "Yes Sir."

He smiled then took the nipple clamps, pinched and tweaked it to see if it would grow further, which it didn't. Taking as much of the bud as he could, he parted the prongs and clasped it closed, staying as far away from the tip as possible. 

She groaned from the back of her throat but held her ground. 

When he did the other, he asked, "On a scale of one to ten, how's the pain?"

"It's a ... seven, Sir."

"I stayed away from the tip on purpose, but I will push your limits on that in the future. Stay as you are."

Going back to the toy closet, he took a big dog cushion and set it beside his chair by the desk. Sitting down, he accidentally kicked Bessie, who was sitting underneath the desk looking up at him as if to say, 'If you need me, I'm right here.'

"Ms. Boyce, do as you did before and follow my voice ..." He again called directions to the pillow, and he helped her get settled in the middle of it with her knees spread. "How's this position?"

"Fine, Sir."

"Brilliant. There's one more step, and it will gauge your limits and how far I can take you. But first, can you tell me what's put you here right now?"

"Yes Sir. I ... masturbated."

"Correct. Spread your legs wider and bring your hips forward to expose as much of your pussy as you can."

When she did, she almost fell forward but Hamish caught her. His forearms grazed against a clamp, making it move a little. She gasped in pain because as the minutes had passed, the pain grew and grew as the grip got tighter from her still-growing nipples.

Slowly, he ran his hand over her pussy again, and her breathing became shallow, almost in a pant. Her mind had been so wrapped around the pain on her nipples that she could feel herself grow wetter, much to her chagrin.

He growled in her ear, flicking his finger over her clit until she whined, causing her to tilt her head back slightly and open her mouth further. Slowly, he slid his other hand to the nape of her neck and pulled it forward. Without a word, he took her bottom lip and bit it, not hard, but hard enough to get her attention. She sighed and held her breath. 

He, on the other hand, began to breathe heavier, and his cock throbbed painfully. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out not having her, but he told her it would be her decision, and he meant it. All he could do at that moment was to press his lips against hers, taking his time to enjoy and relish the soft, plump fullness of her lips. 

He was pleased when she responded by leaning forward into him. He slid his hand down to the side of her neck, her carotid artery pulsating hard and fast under his fingers. 

"Hmm, no, little fawn," he whispered as he pulled away regretfully, smiling at seeing her cheeks blaze a hot pink. "This is not for your pleasure." He took his hand away from her crotch and asked, "Has the pain gone from the waxing?"

She groaned, obviously displeased, then leaned back, sitting straight again. "Only a little, Sir," she sighed.

"Good. I've got a clothes pin here. Can you give me a guess where I'm going to put it?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "No Sir." But she knew. She just had a feeling, a bad one, but one nonetheless. Oh, God, she moaned to herself. Are you insane putting that on my clit?!

"Well, what I'm going to do is put it right on my desk."

You son of a bitch! she cursed at him. 

"Just sit right there and relax. Let me finish my work then you should get changed for Jessie. With her making us dinner weeknights, I don't see any harm in her giving you some tips."

Then she realized what he was doing. He was playing with her head. She was never one for mind games, but he had gotten into her head ... and to her deepest core. Regardless, her pussy began to ache for more attention, while her nipples screamed to be released. It was an odd sensation, but not something she could work through at the moment.

Sitting there for ten minutes, blinded and bound, not knowing what he was doing on the computer, there was a scratching sound then a thud. Her body tensed because she didn't know what the sound was, and she was expecting Hamish to touch her somewhere on her body.

But then an unruly, nasty-sounding, deep fart came from where Hamish was sitting. Oh my God! Hamish! she thought. That was beyond ... Please don't smell. Please don't smell. PLEASE don't smell. She would have laughed if she wasn't in the line of fire.

"That Bloody dog!" Hamish cursed and rolled the away from the desk. "Get out from under there! Of all the ... Damn!"

Sure enough, seconds later the wickedest, foulest odor assaulted her nose. "Oh, God," she mumbled, then waited for Hamish to yell at her for speaking.

"Hold on, Gayle," he told her. Then to Bessie, "Christ, that stinks. Get out. Go. I'll let you out in a tick." He closed the library door and went to Gayle. "Well, so much for discipline with a foul dog fart. A clear case of 'doggus very much interuptus.' Remind me to never feed her left over rabbit casserole again. I'm going to help you up now before you pass out from lack of oxygen. Lean into me if you need to. I won't let you fall." 

Taking a hold of her shoulders, he helped her up to her feet, but it took a second for her to stand without fighting the stiffness of her legs; a dull pain had begun in her shoulders, and her hands had become numb.

"Take your time and walk with me." They took only a few steps to the front of the desk. "Which would you like taken off, first?"

"Nipples, Sir. Nipples. Nipples. Please, please," she begged.

He chuckled, but she couldn't force a smile from the pain. "Good choice. Give me a second." Going to the small refrigerator behind his desk, he grabbed an ice cube and returned to her. "I won't lie to you, this will hurt. Breathe in and out through your mouth." 

Putting the ice cube in his mouth and moving it to one side, he said as he sat down on a chair, "On two. The quicker the better. Ready?"

She took several deep breaths and replied, "Yes Sir." She fully expected him to remove it on the count of one, considering what he'd done to her at the salon.

"One." He moved closer until he was about four inches from her breast and gripped the end of the clamp. "Two." In one swift movement he pressed it down, releasing the clamps on her breast. 

She cried out in excruciating pain as her tit felt like it would explode. But a split second later he took her nipple into his mouth, making sure the ice circled the entire circumference to ease the escalating shot of pain he knew she'd be having.

"Ohhh fuuuu ..." she groaned, tilting her head forward.

"Good girl. One more to go," he cooed, hoping to relax her enough for the last stab of pain. "One. Two."

Tug ... gasp ... ice. 

"Ohhhmmmphh cheeeese and crackers!"

He smiled. "Don't forget to breath. Ready for the rope?"

She nodded emphatically, trying to slow her breathing, though it was difficult. "Yes Sir."

Standing up, within a few minutes he had her untied then removed the blindfold and gave her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright room. When she saw him looking at her the way he was, she smiled. He brushed her hair away from her face and gave her a kiss on her nose.

He took her hand and led her out of the room slowly so she could get the feeling back to her legs. She smiled when he opened the door to the garden, where Bessie barked and ran outside as soon as it was wide enough. 

"Bessie! Wait!" Hamish snapped. The dog turned, shook her head and ran back to him.

Stepping up to the fountain in the garden, he sat down, patted his thigh and said, "Snuggle."

She grinned shyly as she sat on his thigh, but had difficulty keeping balance. So he grabbed her legs and put them over both of his legs, tugging until she was as close to him as she could be. He wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her to him, keeping his other arm over her thighs.

After she relaxed, he told her, "Lass, you are still holding back when you are in this position. I'll have you jumping on my lap whenever I say the word eventually, though I hope it's sooner rather than later." His voice was soft, and he wore a slight grin.

Somehow she found that funny and started to giggle. 

He chuckled. "I see you are coming down. You did well, Ms. Boyce. How was it?"

"It wasn't too bad, Sir, but it was getting a little uncomfortable."

He didn't believe her from her tone. "Uncomfortable?"

"Okay, okay. Unbearable."

He laughed and ran her hair through his fingers. "Alright. That's what we need to determine, finding your limits. Duly noted."

"Yes Sir. Thank you for ... this, the snuggling."

"Oh, no thanks necessary. After care is one thing I cherish after I've put my sub through something intense. It reinforces the bond between us."

"I like it too, Sir." She wanted to ask how many subs he'd had, but she honestly didn't want to know.

"Are you alright now?" he asked, looking down over her face.

"I ... I think so. But Sir, I'm confused. My nipples hurt like a bitch, but if I really was ..." Her voice trailed off. He cupped the side of her face to reassure her she could continue to share. "I don't know whether I was excited from you touching me ... my pussy, or if it was from the pain."

"Ah. I was expecting this. They are somewhat intermingled. As the pain grows, you go through ... stages, maybe is a good word. As each minute passes the pain grows and you push past it, and that pain turns to pleasure. Then the next wave of pain, then the pleasure returns and builds."

"Hmm," she mumbled as she thought about it. "I'm not really sure if I hit any stages, Sir."

"But you will. It'll take time. Now, go on upstairs and freshen up. You have five minutes. Can I trust you not to play with yourself?"

She pulled back and nodded. "No Sir ... I mean, no, I ..." She chuckled. "Yes Sir, you can trust me. But later can you explain why I'm feeling like this? I feel like I'm floating."

Giving her a quick kiss, though he didn't want to stop, he said, "I will. Get. Our guest will be here at six."

"What would you like me to wear?" She didn't care what he told her to wear, she was just ecstatic she had something else other than aprons and the damned blouse and skirt -- which would be burned as soon as she got back home.

"I am fond of the dark red blouse."

"Okay. Is your guest staying for dinner?"

"No, she's not."

A woman is coming here? Why?! she wondered. Then she had to mentally kick her ass to remind herself he was looking for a wife, after all.

She then had another thought. She wondered how much longer he would have kept her bound and clamped if Bessie hadn't come to her unexpected, albeit smelly, rescue. A smile cracked her lips as she tried to work out how to train her to 'doggus interuptus,' as Hamish put it, on a more regular basis. 

'Saved by the smell' was the last thought that had her start to giggle, and with that she hopped off his lap and happily trotted to her room, leaving Hamish with a bemused and puzzled look on his face.

"Ms. Boyce? I mean now."

She looked up at him, not realizing how lost in her thoughts she was. "I'm sorry, Sir." Standing, she said, "Thank you for ... Well, when I figure it out I'll let you know."

-------------------

Jessie showed Gayle the ins and outs of how to use the cooker, then placed the roast with potatoes, carrots and onions wrapped in foil into the oven. 

"You're right, it's pretty easy to use."

"'Tis. Dornt worry yerself. Hammy well eat anythin' ye pit oan a plate. Jist gie him meat an' tatties an' he'll be happy." She handed her a thin notebook. "Haur ur some recipes 'at ar easy, sae ye shood be able tae follaw them."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 07



"Thank you, Jessie. I appreciate this."

Just then, Hamish walked in the kitchen. "There's my favorite cook!" he said playfully as he gave Jessie a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks again for coming in this weekend."

"It was mah pleasure. Ah jist pit supper in th' oven; tak' it out at 6:45. Th' breed is awreddy cut, sae flin' 'at in at th' sam heat fur thee minutes."

Gayle tried to comprehend the last part when Hamish turned to her. "My guest is here. Nana, when will you be here in the morning to show Ms. Boyce around?"

"Is nine alrecht? Sarah has work early in th' morn sae aam stayin' th' nicht wi' 'er tae gie th' kids aff tae skale."

"Fine. Have a good evening."

As Hamish and Gayle walked to the library, which she was beginning not to like going into, she asked what Jessie had said. "Oh, she's ensuring her grandchildren get an education and don't play truant."

"I think I should have taken a Scottish translation course before I came," she joked.

"It wouldn't have helped. I sometimes get lost myself when I go to the States."

As they walked into his library, a woman was standing at the window looking out over the garden. "You have a beautiful garden, Hamish."

"Thank you. Karen, this is Gayle Boyce. She'll be fitted for the chastity belt."

"Chast ..." Gayle started to say, but Hamish gave her a severe look that made her stop mid-word.

The women shook hands before Karen said, "It's quite painless, I promise. I'm just taking a few measurements. Please remove your jeans and knickers and pull your blouse up to just below your breasts. Get up on the footstool."

Without a word, she took off her jeans and folded them neatly, putting them over the back of a chair. Her heart started to pound. This was much worse than being in front of Alana because at least then she knew what to expect.

Hamish helped her up on the foot stool then leaned against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and grinning wickedly. Karen began to wrap the measuring tape around her waist then from her waist down to her crotch.

"Now the tricky part. Spread your legs a little bit for me, love, but careful not to fall. I need to measure ..."

Gayle didn't care what Karen needed to measure. She just wanted this second humiliation to be over with. She was then measured from just below her belly button then over her crotch back to the base of her spine. 

A few minutes later, Karen announced, "Let's see if I have one that will fit."

What the hell?! Gayle swallowed hard. She looked at Hamish hoping for some reprieve, but she received none. He simply stared at her with a smirk. She seriously wanted to smack it off of his face.

Turning her head to follow Karen, all she could see was her opening a large suitcase that she hadn't noticed before. Since her back was to Karen, all she could hear was the clinking of metal on metal.

Oh, crap! She has some with her? I thought it'd be made special since ...

Karen interrupted her thoughts. "Ah, this one might fit." Sitting in a chair, she told Gayle, "You can get down now and come here. Have you ever worn a belt before, Gayle?"

"No, I haven't."

There were two sections to the belt: the bottom part was mostly metal except the crotch, which appeared to be made with a thin strip of cow's hide and metal piping on either side. That part was about two inches wide, and as Karen put it on her, the top of it came up to her belly button. The crotch fit snuggly around her clit, covering it completely, as the part over her pussy was fitted just past the lips. The metal strip of the second part fit around her waist, about an inch wide and was unexpectedly cold.

"Hamish, I need you to hold the back up, and watch me, please, so you know how to put it on," Karen said.

So, with Karen holding the bottom part and Hamish fitting it up the crack of her bum, she was appalled so much attention was on her private parts. She wasn't liking it, not one bit. Gayle drowned out the two as they talked about putting on the metal waist band and then locked it in the back with a 'click.'

"And there ya go!" Karen said, stepping back. "Gayle, how does it feel?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I don't know ... How am I supposed to ..."

"I know you have questions, but first I'm going to put my finger between the belt to see if it's too snug or too loose."

Gayle held her breath and looked straight ahead as Karen did just that, though it wasn't bad at all. Stepping behind her, she tugged gently at the bar between the crack of her ass and she flinched.

I hate you, Hamish! she cursed him. Now you're getting a laxative and sleeping pills in your stew!

"Okay, it looks good. Have a seat, see how that feels."

Without a word, much less a thought, she completely resigned and sat in the chair, but she had to readjust her position until it felt somewhat comfortable. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I guess it's okay."

After Karen was satisfied it was a good fit, she sat down across from Gayle. "Now, you won't have to worry about going to the bathroom. There are holes over your urethra and anus, but you should have Hamish take it off so you can clean it maybe every three days with alcohol, depending on his discretion. Make sure to clean thoroughly daily with a washcloth. For your period ..." She looked at Hamish, though not harshly, "... I would suggest she not wear it. And here's the key for you." 

Hamish took the tiniest key Gayle had ever seen, then he thanked Karen. "Stay here, Ms. Boyce. Let me show you out, Karen."

While they were gone, Gayle could see how much it did cover her private parts, and truthfully it wasn't too uncomfortable. She wanted to see what it looked like in a mirror, though. Hamish told her to stay here, as in his library, but the bathroom was still in his library. Seeing the bathroom door was open, she went in but the mirror was too high. Getting the lightweight foot stool, she set it on the floor and stood on it; it was the perfect height then.

Turning this way and that, her first impression was that it looked like a giant, metal adult diaper. Spreading her legs, she tried to fit her finger where her clit was but couldn't. Putting her hands on her hips she sighed heavily. 

Well, Mr. Hamish is no longer playing games, girl, she thought. 

Stepping off the stool and turning to the door, she was met head on with Hamish, who was standing in the doorway and not looking happy at all. "And why are you in here?"

Her eyes flew open. "I wanted ... Sir, I just wanted to see what it looked like."

A smile slowly broke over his lips. "Are you finally taking me seriously?"

"Yes! Yes Sir. Absolutely, Sir." She did not return his smile. "May I put this back?"

He moved out of the way for her to walk through and watched her as she put the stool in its proper place. 

"Go ahead, have a seat," he said as he sat on a chair, dangling the tiny key on a leather thong "Hazard a guess at what this is?"

She knew exactly what it was. "The key to the belt."

"Correct. Why don't you go upstairs, put on the black apron with the white cover and your heels, get the butt plug and lube, then meet me back here."

"Yes Sir."

After she grabbed her clothes and walked into the main foyer, the smell of the roast still baking flowed down the hall, and suddenly she was starving, regardless of the hell she'd just been through. Taking the stairs, she was aware of the metal rubbing against her waist, and the hide wiping at the tip of her crotch.

She didn't like the way she felt, and she didn't like what she was thinking. She no longer had any say in what she did, and even felt that she couldn't speak up for herself. Oh, he could be sweet and charming and thoughtful, but at times she saw the angry side of him -- but the funny thing was he never seemed to stay angry for long. He'd go back to being nice to her ... based on her behavior ... and following orders ... and ... being submissive. She might have told him that she'd work on being more of what he wanted, but she didn't realize how much work it would be. 

Sighing heavily as she changed and grabbed the plug, she met Hamish in his library. When he saw her walk in, he furtively turned off the Solitaire game he had been playing since he'd come into the room.

He smiled warmly at her. "Much better than the dull jeans and blouse. Come."

Totally resolved into playing her new role with a new attitude, she stood in front of him. Still wearing that smug smile, he ran his hands over her stomach then up until he cupped her breasts and flicked his thumb over her nipples, which were slowly beginning to peak through the thin material. She gasped and took in a sharp breath. 

Sliding his hands down onto her hips, he said, "I don't like not seeing your bum as ... I'd hoped I wouldn't have to go so far as getting you in this bloody belt, but you left me no choice."

She nodded. "I understand, Sir."

Pushing the chair back a little to make more room, he said, "Bend over and put your elbows on my right thigh."

She hesitated and froze, not knowing what she'd done to deserve a spanking. She wanted to protest but knew it would be futile. Still, she didn't move quickly enough.

He grabbed her wrist and positioned her body over his knees, giving her one light smack on the ass. "I. Said. Over my knees. What didn't you understand about that?"

Closing her eyes tightly, her stomach churned at the harshness of his words. Keeping her head down and her body tense, she replied loud enough for him to hear, "Sir, I ... The only time I'm over your knees is to get spanked. I just didn't know ... what I'd done wrong."

He shook his head. "Keep your head down and relax."

He then proceeded to run his palm over her shoulders and down her back, occasionally scraping a fingernail down her spine. 

She had to admit his touch was reassuring, so she forced herself to relax, though it wasn't easy, especially when both of his hands brushed over her ass cheeks and down the top of her thighs. 

"You will trust me eventually. What did I ask you to bring down?"

She had to think a moment. Oh! The butt plug. Well, hell, she thought. He wasn't going to punish me after all. Instantly, she completely relaxed and awkwardly handed him the plug and small tube of lube still in her hand.

"Ah. I see you've realized your mistake. This is all I was going to do," he said.

Running his middle finger over her anal whorl, he stuck his finger inside to open and loosen her up a little. "Remember to breath and relax."

She took several deep breaths; her body moved as he prepared to insert the plug. Seconds later, it was in. 

"At ease, Ms. Boyce." She slowly got to her feet and stood before him in the correct position. "There's a little change: I will insert this plug every morning and only I will remove it when I see fit at night. Every week the size of the plug will gradually increase until you are stretched enough to accept my cock."

Oh, my god! she thought. He's making it sound like he's giving me a cooking recipe!

"So, how does it feel?"

She shrugged her shoulders, not really sure if she should tell him the truth or not. But she was growing to love his laugh, and she desperately needed to hear it then. "Sir, I feel like a turkey wrapped in wire with a thermometer up its butt."

In the blink of an eye, he went from a deep frown to his head all the way back, his eyes closed, his mouth wide and laughing harder than she'd ever heard him. A moment later he looked back at her, his body still shaking with a chuckle.

"You are not just the sexiest creature I have ever seen, but your sense of humor is simply the best."

Gayle blushed wildly, though she wore a smile.

"Go set the table. I'll be in shortly." And with that, he turned around in his chair, opened a real file and began to work.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 6th, 2013 This particular morning when Hamish woke Gayle up, she was wide awake. "Good morning, Sir," she said as she sat up, smiling. 

She smiled because his fresh-out-of-bed look was sexy as hell, almost boyish, with his hair all disheveled, and she flushed shamelessly. 

"Morning. Did you sleep well?" Bessie was about to jump on her bed, but he took hold of her collar. "No, girl. She's getting up." The dog dutifully sat on her hind legs, but her tail wagged with excitement.

"I did, after I got comfortable with the belt. Sir. I was so tired last night I forgot to thank you for my clothes and ... the toys, I think, and lunch and ... I had mostly a fantastic day."

"Mostly?" he asked, one eyebrow raised curiously.

She chuckled. "I think we both could have done without smelling that nasty puppy fart."

He returned her chuckle. "Agreed. And I did enjoy myself as well. Now, so you can get familiar with my morning routine I want you to be my sidekick."

"Your other sidekick?" she asked, nodding her head toward Bessie.

Bessie barked and ran to the door, her hint for her needing to go outside to pee.

Hamish laughed again. "And letting the bloody dog out is the first priority." Slipping out of bed, she asked if she could use the restroom as they walked into the hallway. "No," he replied seriously.

She looked at him and gasped. You can't be serious! She thought. 

Then he smiled. "Woman, you are so gullible."

Shaking her head but wearing a grin, she walked into the bathroom. "I am not." She closed the door behind her.

"You are too!" 

She still hadn't gotten used to peeing wearing the damned chastity belt. This was the third time now and truth be told, she hated it, as she struggled to clean herself afterwards. She just prayed to God that she wouldn't start to smell.

Walking out of the bathroom, she grinned at him sheepishly. "Am not stubborn, infinity plus a million."

Out of nowhere he smacked her ass hard, making her yelp. "OW!"

His eyebrows furrowed, he said, "Are you going to continue arguing with me?"

"No Sir. Sorry, Sir," she said, but her tone was playful.

He sighed and shook his head. "You do know I enjoy spanking? Keep it up and I'd be happy to show you JUST how much I enjoy it."

She hung her head as they walked downstairs, a smile loosely on her lips.

The routine they went through consisted of letting Bessie out, starting then serving breakfast, cleaning the kitchen, inserting her plug, then making sure he left his slippers outside his bedroom door. 

Before they headed back downstairs, she asked, "Wait, Sir. If you leave your slippers in the hall, when will I clean your bedroom?"

He hesitated a moment. "Oh, right. I hadn't thought of that. I'll still keep my slippers out here so you don't forget. They are just as important as my Whisky, though not by much. When you get ready for your day start with your bedroom -- I won't tolerate an unkempt room -- then straighten my room. But do NOT move anything." He frowned, his voice very serious.

She shook her head. "No Sir, of course not." 

Then he smiled. She doubted she would ever get his sense of humor down, but he had a similar sense of teasing and playfulness.

He explained that from now on, her daily routine would be cleaning, then at four she was to stop, tend to Bessie then prepare herself and things for Hamish on his arrival home. That was to be a bath, shaving her legs and/or armpits as needed, have his slippers waiting for him by his chair in the small drawing room, and wait for his arrival in the kneeling position, naked. When he made his presence known, she was to prepare his Whisky and have that, the newspaper and the mail awaiting him on the coffee table. He told her where and when to get those items.

Throughout the day she was to keep an eye on Bessie and pay attention if she barked and led whoever was home to the back door; of course, she would always be on her leash if they were outside as Gayle hadn't yet learnt how to control her. 

Right before he left for the day, she asked jokingly, "Um, Sir? Would you mind if I wrote all that down?" 

He smiled warmly. "Ms. Boyce, I don't expect you to remember everything. We can go over it again tonight, and yes, you may write it down if you feel it necessary. Just do your best. You will not be punished if you miss something, at first." 

He reached inside his business suit pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Now, if the home phone rings, do not answer it; the machine will get it. If I need you, I will call you on this." He handed it to her. "You may only call me. The number is already programmed. Keep it with you at all times in case I need to reach you."

At first she was excited, thinking she'd be able to call home and find out how her mother was doing, but that soon was thrown out the window, and it must have shown on her face.

Affectionately, he put his hand on her cheek and rubbed it with his thumb. "I know you're worried about your mum. You may call home on Wednesday and Sunday nights and talk as long as you'd like, within reason. Will that suffice?" he asked.

She finally smiled. "Yes Sir. Thank you."

"I will see you tonight at 6:15. Don't forget to change into your clothes before you meet up with Jessie. I see no problem if you decide to spend some time with her to pick up some cooking tips. Just don't believe a word she says," he added with a wink.

"Sir? I still have trouble understanding her, so I'm sure any bad thing she says about you I won't get anyway," she chuckled.

"Very true. What's the most important thing you need to remember?"

She thought, racking her brain of what that might be. "I'm sorry, Sir. I don't know."

"I take my Whisky with three ice cubes."

She smiled, relieved. "I'll see you tonight, Sir."

It being only just past 7:30, she had some time before Jessie arrived at nine. So she straightened her bedroom then tackled Hamish's. The first time she'd been in his room it was pretty straight and fairly neat. But this morning when she opened his door she gasped. 

There were jeans and shirts and his briefs in two piles, but several socks scattered all over. There were empty cups and saucers on one nightstand and magazines strewn on the other. His bed sheets and duvet cover looked like a mini-tornado had settled just over the mattress. 

"Ms. Bessie, your daddy is the stereotypical bachelor, do you realize that?" she asked, as her companion stared up at her as if the mess wasn't an issue. "Stay where you are. I don't want to lose you in this crap!"

It took her over an hour to clean his room and bathroom, which was good because it gave her an idea of how to spread out her day with the other rooms. She had to rush to get dressed for Jessie, though. 

After putting on a tunic, she put on the jeans, but the belt made them feel tighter than she expected them to be. Luckily the shirts Hamish picked out were long so they covered her crotch. Doing a few knee squats to stretch what she could, she found it was no use. She'd have to wear them for days to stretch them enough to fit comfortably with the damned contraption.

She groaned and looked at Bessie. "Be glad they don't make chastity belts for canines! Come on."

Bessie's ears perked up and she ran out into the hall. Gayle followed and was halfway down the stairs when she felt the collar gently chafe her neck. She cursed when she realized she was still wearing it and ran back upstairs.

A few minutes later, she was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee when the key in the door rattled, startling her a little bit before she realized it was only Jessie. She started off giving Gayle a thin notebook with instructions on how to use the washing machine and dryer as well as which settings are for which load, color, white and whatnot.

The small utility room was hidden behind a door in the kitchen she hadn't noticed before, and there were the mops and buckets, toilet paper and everything else she would need to clean and keep the bathrooms supplied with the essentials. Going into each room, Jessie pointed out this and that and how to clean them and which detergent to clean which floors. 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 07



Jessie left just after noon, so Gayle changed into her official daily uniform: A black apron, which was really just a skirt with the ass showing through -- gotta love men with their love of butts! -- and two white lace pockets. That's where she put the cell phone. And finally, she put on the dreaded devil's play thing, the heels.

She had little appetite, so she decided to read the manual while she ate a roast beef sandwich from the left over dinner from the night before. She was dismayed to find that there was a lot more that Jessie hadn't covered.

Since she had less than three hours left with nothing to do, she decided on cleaning up the small drawing room because they'd spent most of their time in that room. First, though, she went outside with Bessie so they could both get some fresh air and sunshine. Bessie behaved herself with no issues at all, for which Gayle breathed a huge sigh of relief. Then she took the hoover, broom and basket of cleaning supplies into the drawing room. 

So, for the next two hours, she straightened magazines, dusted everything she could reach, feathered or wiped down carefully the knick-knacks with a towel, hoovered the carpets and swept the broom over the hardwood floor, leaving the actual damp-mop cleaning for the mornings so there was plenty of time to clean up. While she swished it around, Bessie barked and kept snapping and playfully biting at the broom head. 

"No, Bessie!" Gayle fussed, and she backed off. "I need to find a place for you to lie down while I clean. I don't want to accidentally trip over you." 

Looking up at the clock, which had just chimed 3:45, she took a quick look around the room to make sure she hadn't missed anything. Several minutes later, she was satisfied she'd touched everything that could be cleaned. 

---------------------------------

CUPAR TOWN CENTRE, Hamish's Office

Hamish sat at his desk, desperately looking for a client's file. "Neill? Where's the Connor file?" Hamish hollered out to his assistant, whose desk was just outside his office door.

"It's by your phone, Mr. McD.," he replied. "Right where I put it two hours ago!"

"No, no, it's ... Oh. Got it!"

Hamish had been more than distracted while he worked, or was trying to work, anyway. There were a few client files open on his desktop along with a small box showing, in real time, a certain maid that had been cleaning his drawing room.

She looked absolutely, downright shaggable with her full, luscious breasts swaying to and fro as she swept the floor. And when she'd bent over to clean the table legs and exposed her spankable ass, his cock twitched painfully as it grew hard. It took all he had not to growl, afraid he'd alert Neill.

He was surprised she was as happy as she was while she cleaned. He definitely wouldn't have to worry about her goofing off during the day. He also noticed how playful she was with Bessie, and he suddenly realized that without the dog for support she would probably be quite lonely being on her own all day. As much as he wanted to torment, tease and generally mess with her, he didn't want her to be miserable. If she was happy then there was a good chance she would last the distance and do the six months. Good, he thought. Bessie can be her crutch.

But when he saw that she had stopped and just stood there looking around, he looked at the time. He said she was to clean until four. It was only quarter 'til four.

"Gotcha, lass," he whispered and smiled evilly.

--------------------

After putting the cleaning tools away, she said, "Alright, girl. Wanna go outside and chase some squirrels?" The dog picked up her head and her ears twitched, as if she was trying to understand what the stupid human was saying. 

Getting the leash and securing it on Bessie's collar, she went outside and let her sniff around for a few minutes before she noticed just how big the entire castle was, or had been. Being curious about the oldest section, she walked around the misshapen tops of the old, broken bricks, wondering what kind of life the people at that time led.

What did they do during the day? What kind of magnificent parties did they throw? What was it like when they'd bring a trophy deer and prepare it for that night's supper?

Her imagination ran wild as she continued to look around, so she hadn't been paying attention to the leash, which had gotten twisted at her ankles. She tripped and fell backwards, her hands resting on a patch of grass and weeds. She screamed in pain then instantly jerked her hands back. When she looked at them, there were multiple red pricks on her left hand, though none on her right, which was good because she was right handed. 

"No, no!" Gayle whined. "I don't need this now!" 

Ten minutes later, she ran the water in the tub then took the collar off. Only then did she realize how chafed her waist was from the metal constantly rubbing against her skin the past few hours. But what was worse was that over a span of ten minutes, her hand had become very irritated and red and was beginning to itch annoyingly. She immediately changed the water temperature to make it cooler to avoid aggravating the chafing and hand further and soaked for about fifteen minutes, getting as much of the soap as she could onto the irritated skin. Washing her hair with the shower head helped refresh her for the remainder of her day.

Drying her hair, she changed back into jeans and the tunic that she'd worn earlier, since that's what Jessie had last seen her wearing. Before she went downstairs, she poured alcohol onto her palm, hoping that would ease the itching. It did nothing but make her scream out again as the burning tripled. She found some cream and applied it, but it did nothing. 

She and Jessie spent a fun 45 minutes prepping the chicken and making the mushroom sauce then placed them on top of uncooked rice in the baking dish. 

Gayle took in as much as she could, and she hoped Jessie wouldn't mind if she hung out with her to learn some more of her cooking tricks. She knew it would impress Hamish if she was able to make some of his favorite dishes.

Telling her when to take the dish out of the oven, Jessie finally left, but the whole time Gayle fretted over what time it was, though she didn't want to rush Jessie at all. When she noticed the time was 6:05, she raced upstairs, undressed and put her collar back on -- a sense of calmness overcame her that again she couldn't understand -- grabbed his slippers and went to the drawing room. Placing the slippers right in front of the chair, she knelt beside it, her hands on her thighs facing up, her head down ... and waited.

It seemed as if only seconds had gone by when Hamish came in the front door, purposely shaking his keys loudly, then put his briefcase on the small table with a thud. Hoping Gayle was waiting for him in the drawing room, he shouted, "I'm home! I'm going upstairs to change!"

Bessie came barreling toward the front door and jumped up with her paws on his thighs. "Yes, I'm home, but I was letting your new best friend know I was home, you traitor!" 

Knowing she had at least five minutes, she still hurried and poured his glass half-full of his favorite Whisky, making sure not to spill any, added three ice cubes and placed it on the coffee table, then got back into position. Her heart began to pound, but whether it was with the excursion of running around or the fact that he was home, she had no idea.

What Gayle didn't know was that he'd taken his jeans and shirt to his office so he had already changed and now stood just outside the door out of her view watching her fix his drink, and only when she settled back down did he walk into the room.

Her eyes were glued to the floor before her when she heard the clattering of Bessie's claws on the wood floor as Hamish's shiny dress shoes came into her view. He then walked away. Not able to see what he was doing, the only thing she could think of was that he was inspecting the room.

When he came back to her, he remained silent as he picked up the glass and took a sip, then replaced it. Then he grabbed the mail and flipped through the advertisements and bills and junk mail before throwing them back down. Then he grabbed the newspaper, unfolded it, lifted his glass and sat down in his leather recliner.

She stayed as still as she could waiting for Hamish to acknowledge her, which killed her second by second. That was a game she and her sister, Catelyn, would play as kids. Sitting in the family room on a cold, snowy winter's night, they'd pretend the other wasn't in the room. Only minutes later Catelyn would nag and tease Gayle, trying to get her to talk. Poor Gayle never lasted more than five minutes. Sometimes, her mouth was her worst enemy.

The newspaper rustled as he read. The ice clinked against the glass. Bessie sneezed. When the clock chimed twice, she knew it was 6:30, and she was then becoming a little angry at being ignored, not to mention she desperately needed to scratch her hand.

Just as she was about to say something, he asked, "How was your day?"

Not sure if she had permission to look at him, she simply replied, "Very well, Sir."

"Brilliant. Glad to hear it. But you must look at me when I'm talking to you." She turned her head. "Much better. How did your feet hold up?"

She hadn't really thought about her feet in her dreaded heels until that moment. Only her toes ached, but the pain in her hand then burned relentlessly. "Better than I thought."

"Well, you haven't worked eight hours yet."

"No Sir."

"Put my slippers on my feet."

"Yes Sir," she replied with a smile.

Getting up, she lost her balance but regained it quickly. She cringed when he stopped her from taking a hold of the slippers. "That was as graceful as a drunken sailor navigating his way out of a whorehouse after being fucked every which way but loose. Try that again."

She tried not to laugh, and she didn't need to have him explain what he meant. Getting back down on her knees, she stood again, only to be told it still wasn't acceptable. Well, if Mr. Hamish McDougal wants a graceful rise, a graceful rise he will have! she thought.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, giving her shoulders an extra sway that made her breasts bounce. She got the reaction she was looking for when he grunted under his breath. Turning to face him, she asked, "Was that alright, Sir?" She smiled sheepishly at him.

He could barely form a coherent thought, much less find the proper response as he sat looking up at her perfect body. "Yes, smart arse, that was acceptable. But watch yourself." He smiled.

Getting down on one knee, she asked, "Sir? Do you want your socks off?"

"Yes, and good question."

She removed a sock, gently put the slipper on his foot then did the other. Smiling at him, she remained where she was. They played a staring game -- Gayle waiting for more instruction, and Hamish waiting to see if she'd move or say anything.

"When will dinner be ready?"

"Jessie told me to check it at 6:30."

He looked at his watch. "It is 6:37. Think it's burnt by now?" he asked, his eyebrows furled.

"May I go check it, Sir?"

"We'll go together." As they walked to the kitchen, he said, "Do you have a problem with the time, Ms. Boyce?"

She didn't like the tone in his voice. "No Sir, I don't."

"Well, might I suggest you use the cell phone I gave you to set the alarm for the time you require to check on dinner, or when it's lunchtime, or knowing when to stop working when it's four."

Her first thought was, Well, hell! Why didn't I think of that? Her second thought was, Did he know I put everything away ten minutes early? There's no way he could have!

"I will do that, Sir. I'm sorry for not being more attentive."

"At least you are trying."

When they got to the kitchen and after Gayle checked the chicken, it had a few more minutes to go. She didn't say a word as she set the table and made their drinks. As she carried the glasses to the table, she winced and hissed in pain because she held the glass too tightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he sat at the table.

"It's nothing. I fell on some stupid weeds."

"Weeds?"

"Yes Sir."

"Give me your hands," he said sternly. He looked at it closely then rubbed the pad of his finger over the palms and bottom of her fingers. She sucked in a sharp breath. "Were the leaves thick and hairy with a yellow, willowy flower?"

"Yes Sir, I think so."

"Damn. You landed in stinging nettles. Shit. This is inflamed. I think you may be allergic to the acid in the sting."

"Is ... is that what's making it so irritated?"

"Obviously. Why didn't you call me?"

"Sir, it wasn't a big deal."

He shook his head. "I might have to call the doctor."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Really."

"I'll be the judge of that, Ms. Boyce."

She wasn't going to get away with anything, so she didn't even try to argue with him. "Yes Sir." She was learning quickly.

"Fuck." He pulled out his cell phone. "Jack, what are you doing in about an hour?" He paused. "Well, explain to Deborah this is an emergency. My careless maid has landed in stinging nettles, and I'm afraid she is having an allergic reaction." He waited. "Thanks, mate." 

Turning to Gayle, he said, "Dr. Jenkins's wife was none too happy to have her husband dragged away for ... Never mind. I'll pay for their dinner at the club." He took a healthy swig of his Whisky, which seemed to calm him down.

She had a thought to keep a flask of his liquor with her at all times to pour him a drink whenever he was in a foul mood ... not that she'd ever have anywhere to hide it.

He promptly took her to his library, got a magnifying glass and a pair of tweezers, sat her on his desk chair and rested her hands under the desk lamp. He inspected them closely but couldn't see anything that obviously needed to be removed. 

"That damned Hodges! He shouldn't have anything like that around the estate! He knows I hate the damn things."

"Sir, it wasn't his fault."

"Don't defend him. If Bessie ever ..."

She drowned out his mumbled complaining and felt horrible if she'd gotten him in trouble. 

After they ate dinner in an uncomfortable silence, he told her to just put the dishes in the sink then go dress properly; cleaning them would have to wait to prevent further irritation to her hands. 

By this time she was feeling beyond horrible, but it had nothing to do with her hand. "Sir, I'm sorry to put you to so much trouble."

"Yeah, you'd think I'd get used to it by now," he grumbled, but he'd had a slight curve to his lips, as if he was hiding a grin.

------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Nope, the cell phone was not all Hamish got Gayle!



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 08



AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanted to thank y'all for your votes and comments. It tweaks my heart that so many of you are enjoying this as much as I am writing it with Scooter.

SCOOTERS' NOTE : Thank you, shysub, for your concern as to my well being. It is much appreciated. Unfortunately, care in the community deemed me unsuitable and the local pharmacy is out of valium, so I am still incarcerated in my padded cell. They have however allowed me internet so I can troll A2W with spam, unsolicited porn and hate mail on an hourly basis ... and extremely therapeutic it is too :-) ..................Luvs ya really, sweetie

PS. All stories about Bessie are in fact true and based on my own, now departed, black Lab Bessie.

AUTHOR'S SIDE NOTE: mel_pomene: I was worried it would throw readers off with Jessie's accent, but she says very little, really, and Hamish does 'translate.' I'll loosen up on her words a little bit. Thanks for the dialogue tip! 

-------------------

CHAPTER EIGHT

Gayle was nervous as they waited for Dr. Jack in Hamish's library, justifiably. She had just poured him another refill then knelt beside him on the dog pillow. Wanting to fuss at Gayle for taking her pillow, Bessie simply sat beside her, giving her a canine glare.

Her head was still down, and she repeated over and over what her boss's expectations were. She was to sit or kneel on the pillow beside his chair and wait for instruction from Hamish, not Jack. She put it to his need for control and left it alone. She was not to speak unless spoken to, and speak to the doctor with respect, which would never be an issue for her. 

Her right hand was itching like crazy, and she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to hold off not scratching it. The burning was also intense, and she had to push back the pain. What made it worse was, that in the kneeling position her butt cheeks were wider, making the metal of the belt dig uncomfortably into the crack of her arse. 

She had noticed through dinner, and this third drink that he'd become more mellow, different than when they were at the pub. And she remembered what happened when they got home from the pub just the day before.

Then her mind wandered to when his cock was in her mouth, and she had looked up at him and saw the look of lust in his eyes ...

"Gayle! Damn it! Go get the door!" Hamish barked.

She was so startled she looked at him in shock. "I'm sorry, Sir!" she replied as she stood, completely aware that she'd exposed her crotch to him, though thankfully this time it was covered.

His eyebrow raised and he said, "I don't think I like that belt covering your bits." She blushed wildly. "What were you thinking? Your face is all flushed."

"Oh, I was ... yesterday, when --"

The doorbell rang again, and he waved his hand. "Never mind. You will tell me later. Now please, go let Jack in."

"Yes Sir."

As she walked to the door she realized how wet she was and feared the doctor would smell her just as Hamish did. She couldn't worry about that now, though. She fingered her collar, wondering why he insisted she wear it. The doctor must know about their relationship, which only doubled her nervousness.

Using her left hand, which didn't seem to be infected at all, she opened the door. Jack wasn't exactly what she was expecting for a doctor. He was taller than Hamish but thinner, though not too thin. He had a full head of blonde hair with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. His cheeks were as rosy as Hamish's, but he had high cheekbones and big forehead. She was expecting someone older, for some reason.

"Well, hello, Gayle. It's a pleasure to meet you!" he said, and his voice was pure heaven.

"Hi, Dr. Jenkins." She put out her right hand to shake his but thought better of it. "Sorry, my right hand is a bit sore. Come in."

He stepped into the foyer carrying a medical case, and she offered to take his jacket, which she hung up on the coat rack by the back door while he went into Hamish's library. Stepping into the room tentatively before settling back down on the pillow, the men were in a heated conversation about golf at the bar while Hamish made a drink for Jack.

"That bunker shot was NOT a fluke. If you noticed I had perfect poise and control at all times." Hamish was defending his miraculous shot the day the two men played the round a few months earlier. 

"Bollocks. You had your bloody eyes shut! It's a wonder you hit the sodding thing at all," Jack teased.

"I never did, and even if I did it was to keep the sand out."

"But the sand only came up after you hit it, and you had your eyes shut before then."

"You're just sore because you lost the bet."

"And speaking of which, how did you enjoy your evening with Ms. Winslett?"

"I will soooooo have you for that one you sod, though I have to admit the bit where she poses for the drawing in the scuddy is pretty damn hot. It would have almost been worth hitting the iceberg and drowning to have seen that."

Turning to Gayle, he told her, "Ms. Boyce, please sit in this chair in front of the desk."

Getting up more carefully than she had before making sure to be graceful, she sat in the chair that Hamish was standing behind, and Jack took the other chair. For about ten minutes, he asked Gayle about her medical background and what medications she was on and whether she needed a refill. She said she would in two weeks, so he gave her a prescription for birth control. 

"Now let me get your blood pressure." 

He put the pressure cuff on her upper arm, put the diaphragm of the stethoscope inside the crook of her elbow then put in the ear tips. As he pumped the bulb several times, she sat in silence and watched him curiously, because as the seconds ticked by he frowned deeper and deeper. 

"Gayle? Have you been diagnosed with high blood pressure before?" he asked concerned as he removed the cuff.

"No Sss ... No. What is it?"

"It's 156 over 122, much too high."

She thought, maybe it's because I'm sitting here with no bra or underwear and a chastity belt reminding me I can't diddle myself to orgasm.

"Hamish, tomorrow go to the chemists and buy a BP machine. Ask the pharmacist to show you how to take the pressure so you can show Gayle. Gayle, I want you to keep a record of your readings every morning and evening around dinnertime. This will need to be done for a week. It also needs to average no higher than 130 over 70."

She assumed the chemist was the drugstore? "I will, Doctor."

"Let me see your hand, please."

Hamish turned on the desk lamp, and she put both hands under the light, noticing it was redder and more irritated than it was at dinner. Jack looked over the palms and fingers, but paid more attention to her right hand. "Good call, Dr. McDougal," he chided his friend. "It was nettles." He dug into his case and handed her a tube and bottle. "This is hydrocortisone for the irritation, and the antihistamine will stop the itching. Do not use your hand at all, and keep it out of cleaning solutions. Wash with soap and water, that's fine. If you see no improvement by Sunday, Hamish, I want you to call me."

"Will do." Hamish leaned close to her ear when Jack went to put the glass back on the bar. Whispering, he said, "Go ahead and dress your wound, but be quick about it. Get in the position you were before."

"Yes ... Sir." At first she was afraid she did wrong by using the title, but obviously he'd told Jack she was his maid, so it didn't matter to her.

Out in the foyer, Jack turned to Hamish. "Mate, I have to tell you she is a little cracker, you lucky barstard!"

"Keep your cheating-golfing paws off of her!" he barked but then laughed. "She is that, and more. I think she'll work out just fine," he replied, trying to keep his contentment at a minimum.

"Hmm, as a maid or your future bride?"

"A maid, because I don't share. I can't see her wanting to marry me somehow. I don't think she even likes me."

"Can't say I blame her." "Have you told her about the Burns Supper yet?" Jack asked.

"Shit, no. I've got to have Jessie train her, first."

"I'll send you my bill, though I doubt you will be able to afford it."

"No worries. I was planning on Bessie eating it, or losing it anyway."

A few minutes later, Hamish walked back into his office. "You did well. I am pleased." Although she wasn't looking at him, she could hear the smile on his lips. He sat in his office chair, turned it to face her and leaned forward.

Looking up, she replied, "Thank you, Sir, and for having him look at my hands." She wanted to ask him about Jack but was afraid of his reaction, considering he accused her of liking David, who was probably twice her age.

"I have a question for you," he said a bit more firmly. "Why did you not ask him about the belt?" She frowned, not knowing what he was talking about. "I noticed after supper you are a bit red. It would be a shame if you'd fallen on your arse, too." Regardless of his words, he had a certain twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh. I wasn't hiding it from you. I was going to ask the doctor about it, but when he said to go to the drugstore I was going to ask you to buy some talcum powder."

He narrowed his eyes then smiled. "Alright, fair enough."

"Sir? May I ask how you two ... I mean, you two seem like friends, not doctor/patient."

"I'll make a deal with you. You tell me what were you thinking before, waiting for Jack, and I'll tell you how I know him."

Her mind reeled. That is SO not fair, Hamish! Do I really want to know?! she pondered. A second later, she replied, "Yes."

Little did she know he was going to ask her anyway, and it was no big deal to him whether she knew or not. "Our fathers were friends. We grew up together."

She nodded, though she wanted more of an explanation. But hell, he's a man. Us women have to explain everything, she thought and tried not to chuckle. "OK. Thank you, Sir."

"Now, tell me your little blushing secret?"

Her cheeks turned just as red as they were before. "I was thinking of yesterday when we got home and ... I was ..."

He grinned at her shyness. "When you had my cock in your mouth?"

She died inside. "Yes Sir."

His grin widened. Leaning forward, he held her face and rubbed his thumbs over her cheek. She melted into his touch but then stopped herself. "Did you enjoy that?"

He brushed his lips against hers, and only then did she allow herself to melt against him. Damn, he's a good kisser, she thought before he regretfully pulled away.

"I won't lie, Sir. I did."

"Hmm." He hesitated a moment, thinking. "Go upstairs, undress and wait on the bed for me, arms over your head and legs spread."

Her heart skipped a beat, though she didn't know why. "Yes Sir."

For what felt like hours, Gayle laid on her bed while Hamish probably let Bessie out and locked up the house. Her heart pounded harder and faster with every passing second, and she just knew it would explode.

It almost did when the hallway light came on and she heard steps and Bessie's nail-clicking coming closer and closer. She waited. And waited. Then wished she could just fall asleep -- if her damned heart would slow down.

When he walked in, she saw the rope in his hand with the bag from the toy store in the other. Oh, god. No. NO! Not again! she screamed. But she couldn't deny something fluttered in the pit of her stomach that made her shut up rather quickly.

He placed the items at the end of the bed then sat down at her waist. Without a word, he ran his hand over her stomach softly, more like barely grazed her skin. She took in a breath as goose bumps erupted where his fingers touched, which spread quickly to her breast. Her nipples tingled as they seemed to triple in size, much to her chagrin. She didn't want him to know how good it felt, but once again her body betrayed her.

He grinned wickedly as he circled her buds with a fingertip for a second before he trailed down her stomach to the inside of her thighs, again teasing her, watching every reaction, getting as close to her pussy as he could without reaching underneath the belt.

Not thinking, she pulled her arm down and touched his forearm, pushing just a little.

Taking his hand away, he shook his head and tsk'd. "Did I tell you that you could push me away?"

"Actually no, you didn't ... Sir," she retorted, though her tone was way more sarcastic than she meant it to be.

"Are you trying to wind me up?"

"No, no Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"You should be, but too late now." He stood up and went to the end of the bed. "Bend over my knees so that I can remove the butt plug."

"Oh! Thank you, Sir!" It hadn't been hurting her, but wearing it all day had become more than irritating.

Using a towel, he removed the plug and laid the towel at his feet. "Now, please stand by the side of the bed, facing away, Ms. Boyce."

Sitting back on the bed, he pulled out the toys he'd bought the day before, already out of the packages and batteries inserted. Putting them on the floor out of view from her, leaving one item on the bed, he reached inside his jean pocket and pulled out the key to the chastity belt.

Putting his hands on her hips, he pulled her back a little, though there was no resistance. Quickly he unlocked it and pulled the two sections off of her and threw them to the floor. Indeed, there was some irritation, but only around her hips and one spot on her back where the sections joined. Taking the jar, he applied some of the cream.

"That smells good. What is it, Sir?"

"Calendula lotion. I already have some powder you can use before you go to bed."

"Hmm, that does feel a little better. Thank you, Sir."

Standing up, he told her to lie back down. When she did and looked up at him, she didn't like the expression on his face ... at all.

"I have to be honest," he started as he grabbed a length of rope and restraints, showing them to her, "I've been looking forward to this."

Somehow she knew it wouldn't be the last time she would hear that. Her eyes flew open, but she didn't dare say anything.

Several minutes later, she was tied to the posts of the bed, wrists and ankles both slightly bent, though her legs were spread as wide as he could make them. She did notice as he tugged at the ropes to tighten them she felt more and more helpless. On the other hand, she also felt more and more ... wet? Excited? Horny?

Testing the restraints to see if she could free herself, she was totally unable to move.

As he sat beside her again, he asked, "What is your color?"

She was perfectly comfortable, considering the situation she was in. "Green, Sir," she finally replied.

"Good. Sit back and enjoy."

I'd enjoy being at an amusement park right now, boss, she thought.

He started to touch her again, but this time it was completely different. It felt ... incredible. His fingertips touched every single inch of her body, except her pussy, sadly for her. She was breathing harder, though she remained in control, or so she thought.

Soon enough she started to squirm and lift up her hips whenever he was around her crotch, but he never gave her more than he wanted. He just continued to tease her, loving her reactions, watching her breathing so she wouldn't go too far mentally. He wanted her present, wanted her to remember what he was doing to her.

"Hmm, ohhh shiiit," she whined, her face contorted in a sensual pain.

"Pull back, Ms. Boyce."

"I ... it's just ... oooohhh gggg ..." She pulled her arms and kicked her feet as if that would set her free, but all she could do was shake her head back and forth. 

He'd made her moan when he ran his finger from the bottom of her pussy to the hood of her clit. He smiled wickedly when it pulsed beneath his fingers and saw how wet she was. Alright, little fawn, he thought. You are quite ripe for phase number two.

Slipping off the bed, he said, "Whatever I do next, you are not allowed to come." Her eyes flew open and she lifted her head, staring angrily at him. He grinned. "Did you forget already your orgasms belong to me? You are a stubborn one."

Throwing her head back down on the pillow, she groaned, "Well, fuck!"

Chuckling, he pulled the metal vibrator out of the bag and two clothes pins, but he had no plans on using them right away. Again sitting down beside her, toys in reach, he cupped and massaged her breasts until she was back to sighing and moaning and cursing.

He loved how receptive she was, and it was time to strike. Supporting himself by placing his left hand on her right side, he bent down and dove his lips on her perky, hard nipple.

She gasped but kept her eyes closed. Her mind was reeling, going in a million different directions as her body came alive at what he was doing. The blood was rushing through her and her heart was pounding; hell, it hadn't stopped since he walked into the room.

His lips held firmly onto the base of the nipple as he flicked the tip of his tongue on the end, causing more fighting and moaning. Unexpectedly, he sucked it in his mouth, watching her face as he did. With one hand he grasped her other breast, sucking gradually harder and harder.

She had totally gone out of her mind when he sucked her nipple; every nerve ending sent spasms straight to her pussy, and she actually felt it widen. Ohh myy god! What are you doing to me?! she screamed.

He pinched her other nipple with his fingers, squeezing harder and harder as he moved up to the tip. At the same time, he continued sucking in earnest, though his lips were still gentle.

"Siiir, god, please. Stop," she cried breathlessly.

"Uh, uh," he grumbled and continued what he was doing.

"Ggggd, please! 'm gonnna ..."

Taking the tip of her nipple with his teeth, he bit it before he pulled back, releasing it with a 'pop.' Looking down on her flushed face, he told her, "Hmm, you are that close? You have to learn to hold back. Period."

I hate you! she shouted to herself. "Buuu,' I cn't. I n'ed to—AGH!!" she screamed out.

She took in a sharp breath and groaned loudly at the sting when he'd smacked her pussy hard. Her ears still echoed with the sound. Her entire crotch stung so badly it took her breath away.

"What the fuuuck did you do that for?!"

He laughed wickedly. "It made you stop begging, didn't it?"

You butthead! Now isn't the time to be logical! she thought. She didn't answer but simply laid her head down and hoped he was done.

He wasn't. Leaning down and grabbing the clothes pins, he ran his other hand over her cheek then down to her neck. He bent over and kissed her, softly at first before his own body began to welcome the surges that shot straight to his hardened and aching cock. He didn't want to -- he could have kissed her all night -- but he pulled back.

A faint smile slowly crossed her lips. Forcing herself to look at him, she whispered, "Wow. You're a ... great kisser." She hadn't meant to tell him; it just slipped out. She was losing control of more than her body. 

He grinned back. "It takes two for a kiss like that, Ms. Boyce."

"Gayle," she moaned, then instantly regretted it. Quickly, she finished, "Sir? When we're ... inside the bedroom, can you call me Gayle? Please?" 

Her voice was so soft, kind and genuine that he couldn't find any reason to deny her. "I see no harm in that. I'd prefer it, I think. As for me, I quite like 'Your royal highness, fluffy bunny kins.' Will that work for you?" 

She looked at him startled because she thought he was serious. But when she saw his playful grin she chuckled. "No Sir, not a freakin' bit!"

"Thank God!" He laughed. He kissed her quickly again before he asked, "So, would you still like to come?"

"Yes, yes Sir. Please?" she begged.

He chuckled at that. "Hmm. I gave you leeway on one request, but I will have to deny this one."

"Noooo!" she whined.

"I'm afraid so, my little fawn. I need you to learn to prevent your orgasm, unless I allow it. Let me try something to help you keep your mind off orgasming."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 08



"Shit! I should have lied," she said then chuckled.

"Oh, but if you did that I would have known you were, and then I'd have to add that punishment to my ever growing list. Just lie back and work through it."

She groaned from the back of her throat and prepared herself.

Taking her nipple with his fingers, he pinched it and brought the clothes peg closer. "This won't be as bad as the clamps, but I'm also going to bring it closer to the tip. You'll be able to handle it."

He placed it halfway down the bud and secured it before quickly placing the other. Her breathing was much faster, but she didn't seem stressed. "How's the pain?"

"Much bett' than th' clamps ..."

Getting to his feet, he kept repeating, "Relax, breath."

Scooting back a little so he could have access to her pussy, he turned the vibrator on and she practically jumped a foot off the bed. "No. NO!! Not a ... hmmmpphhh ..."

He chuckled at her reaction, as he'd brought the vibrator to her clit and let it rest for a few seconds then removed it. Her body relaxed somewhat, but her hands remained fisted.

"Gayle, from now on I want you to use 'red' as soon as you feel yourself about to come. I will pull back to allow you to calm down. I want to take you to the edge but not tip over. I want you to become familiar with that feeling so you can prepare yourself to hold back. I might do it once, or I might do it ten times. But you will NOT come. Do you understand?"

Trying to catch her breath, she squeaked, ""Red,' no coming. Yes Sir. Got it."

She didn't, not really. Her body was aching beyond humanly possible, and she had no control whatsoever ... and that's exactly what he wants, Gayle, you dumb ass! she came to realize. She was in some serious shit.

Hamish turned the vibrator back on and ran it the full length of her opening, the juices making it glide easily. Sliding the tip if it under the hood, he left it there and let it build, and build, and build.

Her hands were no longer fisted but were grabbing at the bed sheets in clumps. She bit her tongue fighting back, and he was pleased she was trying. Flicking it back and forth fast on the clit several times, gradually adding pressure, he could tell she was getting close, even though she hadn't called her color.

Slowly he lightened the gyration and slid it down to her pussy, bringing it up and down until it was sufficiently wet. Carefully and slowly he inserted it, not going in deep at first, but taking it out just a little and reinserting it. He never took his eyes away from her face.

She growled from the back of her throat as he pushed it in further. "Control your breathing, love. Fight it."

For a minute or so he fucked her with the vibrator, slowly and with purpose. With every passing second her reactions grew more forceful as she fought off the urge to orgasm.

When he saw she was close to the edge, he asked, "Gayle, what's your color?"

"Yyyyellosredddish," she muttered.

Immediately he stopped the penetration and pulled it out just a bit so the tip was just inside her. "Good girl, good girl. Deep breaths."

She did so, and it helped tremendously. Within a minute or so she had calmed down, prompting him to continue. And he did with gusto, but this time he pressed his forefinger on her clit.

A moment later he was jealous of the damned vibrator and wished it was his own hard, throbbing cock inside of her. Listening to her whine and cry out he was half expecting her to orgasm at any minute, but she held off. So he simply ran his finger over her clit harder and faster until her entire body shuddered, her legs tensed and she screamed out, "RED!"

A split second later the orgasm coursed through her, though she didn't squirt that time. As she came, she pushed the vibrator out hard, whining constantly and breathing heavily. Then it dawned on her what she'd done.

"Ssssir, 'm sssory," she barely managed to say.

Without a word, he turned his body and twisted both clothes pins a quarter before clipping them off. She gasped at the unexpected pain. "Plll ... please don't be mad."

"Too late, Ms. Boyce." His use of her surname cut right through her.

He untied her wrists and legs, but she was afraid to move for fear of what he'd do. But he surprised her. Standing beside the bed, he put his hand out for hers. "Love, you've bled a little. Grab some underwear and let's go get you cleaned up."

"Yes Sir," she replied.

After he removed the restraints, she took the towel and vibrator to clean then followed him to the bathroom. He instructed her to clean herself while he took a seat on the opposite end of the tub. She was grateful for cleaning up in a way. She wasn't sure exactly how he'd treat her since she'd done the one thing he told her she couldn't do. The damned childhood butterflies first erupted in her stomach before they trailed to her ass. She hated the feeling.

When Gayle was done, she put the pad and underwear on, not even caring that Hamish was watching every move she made. She wondered why, considering it wasn't like she'd want to get herself off since she'd already come. But she was getting used to it.

He had gotten the cream for her infected hand and sat back down on the tub, telling her to stand in front of him so he could apply it. She was touched for some odd reason. As he applied it, his hands were so gentle that it didn't even hurt, though only then did she realize how badly it had been itching and stinging. Then he put some more Calendula cream on the still-irritated spots on her waist and back before talcing the rest.

"Thank you, Sir," she said when he finished.

"You're welcome." He put his hands on her hips and squeezed a little. "I'm not mad, but you should know I will have to punish you."

The butterflies she'd had in her stomach then exploded. "I understand, Sir."

"Truth be told, I was fully expecting you to orgasm sooner than you did. I had to gauge your tolerance."

She nodded, not sure what to say. He reached up, took her face and pulled her down to him. "I am proud of you."

He rubbed his bottom lip against her top, hinting to her to open her mouth, which she eagerly did. As before, the heat between them burst through their lips, igniting a totally new sensation for her.

"Clean up your mess and meet me in your bedroom." He wore a smile, so she wasn't offended with his tone.

A few minutes later, she laid down on the bed and he pulled the duvet over her, tugging her in playfully. She smiled at him ... until he grabbed something above her, locked what turned out to be handcuffs that were already around a post on the headboard around her wrists, and stood up staring down evilly.

"Ham ... Sir?! What are you doing?!" She pulled at them but there was no way she'd get free.

"Ms. Boyce, did you think I would leave you alone without the belt and take the chance of you coming again?"

"Well, yes, I would have thought ... But, Sir, I can't sleep like this!"

"Oh, yes you can. If you twist your arms just right you can even lie on your side."

She hated his tone. "Sir, please, I'm begging you."

"Yes, you are."

He bent over and gave her another quick kiss, but she turned her head away. There is no way in hell I'm kissing your ass for doing this to me! she screamed to herself.

"Sleep well, little fawn," he said with a soft smile.

He grabbed the bag of toys and walked out, leaving the door open.

"Sir!" She clinked the handcuffs loudly. "You can't leave me like this!"

He disappeared down the hall for a brief moment before he went into his bedroom and closed his door.

Poor Gayle started to cry, still struggling and screaming, and it went on for a good ten minutes before she finally fell to sleep from exhaustion. In truth, the handcuffs had been padded and weren't uncomfortable, but it was the principle of the whole thing that exhausted her.

Hamish, on the other hand, simply chuckled when he heard the screaming stop. He turned the lights off, slipped into bed and told Bessie as she lay beside him, "You were much easier to train."

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 7, 2014

Gayle was having a dream that she was walking through an operating car wash, the wide, sudsy strips of cloth wiping at her body and face, though she had no problem breathing and wasn't drowning. Then the cloths became grainy and she was becoming unsteady on her feet, the cloth strips suddenly invading her mouth. Only then did she feel like she was starting to choke.

"Bessie!" came a whispered voice from outside the small building. It was familiar, and it belonged to a man she wanted nothing to do with any longer. "Don't you wake her up! Come!"

Suddenly the building started to shake violently and she woke up with a start, her arms in front of her face to stop the onslaught of the soapy water. She sat up and looked around as if she were waiting for another cloth to scrape across her face. But she saw Bessie walk toward the doorway, then followed the feet to the face of the man she despised the most in the world. She frantically wiped her mouth with the back of her hand when she realized it had been the bloody dog's tongue in her mouth.

"Sorry Bessie woke you. You can sleep in for another thirty minutes."

Then it dawned on her that she wasn't wearing the handcuffs he had put on her the night before. She looked at the headboard thinking she'd slipped out of them while she slept. And she shivered when she discovered she'd kicked all the bed sheets off of her while kicking her feet during her temper tantrum.

"I just took them off, which is what made Bessie jump on your bed."

"Oh. Does ... Do you want me to take Bessie out?" she asked, trying to keep her tone even as the anger at being tied to the bed started to build.

"If you don't mind. Wait while I get the chastity belt."

She then lost all self-control. "Sir, after you locked me to the damned headboard so I wouldn't play with myself, do you think --"

She stopped herself when he glared at her, his eyes deeply furrowed and looked as if he would throw his slipper at her. "Ms. Boyce, you've demonstrated you don't quite trust me yet, and the same goes for me. No, I do not trust you."

"Oh, for God's sake! Women don't wake up with boners like you men do, so I think it's pretty safe to say if I'm only letting Bessie out so I'll have no time to get myself off."

If she thought he couldn't look angrier, she was sorely mistaken. Looking down at Bessie, he asked her, "I think that reply deserves five with the paddle for her disrespecting me. What do you think?"

The dog wagged her tail and barked softly.

"Yep. I think so too." Looking back at Gayle, he said, "You have seven minutes, and I will be timing you."

"Whatever," she huffed as she got out of bed and walked toward the door.

Trying to slip past him, he grabbed her elbow, forcing her to stop dead, and he peered down at her. "Ms. Boyce?"

She swallowed hard, knowing she'd gone too far, yet again. "Yes Sir?" The title stuck on the tip of her tongue like a lemon wedge.

"Why don't you surprise me with breakfast, but not bacon and eggs?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"And you have another five coming for that smart assed retort."

Stopping herself from sighing, she replied, "Yes Sir. Come on, Bessie. You'd better pee quickly." Walking down the hall, she turned around and looked at Hamish. "Am I allowed to hate you?" Well, that's another five, I'm sure, she thought.

"You can hate me all you want. It doesn't bother me in the least. But I am still your employer, and I still deserve respect."

She took in his words before she nodded and headed down the stairs. "Your daddy is a pain in the ass, girl," she whispered.

"I heard that! Another five!" came a dismembered voice from upstairs.

He hadn't heard what she said. He just figured she would sass him and took a chance. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to make it hurt when he paddled her. He just didn't want her to know that.

While she walked around outside with Bessie, she remembered he said she could call home that night. She assumed she'd be calling her dad after dinner, and with the time difference he would just be coming home from work, so it would work out well. That put a pep in her step and made her want to behave ... she NEEDED to behave.

Going back upstairs to the bathroom, she was relieved to see she was no longer bleeding, but that only meant she'd be wearing the damned belt all day. She cleaned her hand, which was still red but not as itchy. Stepping into her room, she saw Hamish's bedroom door open, but she couldn't see him.

Standing in the doorway, she knocked on the door and asked, "Sir? Are you ready to put the chastity belt back on me?"

"Nmph. Hmph bute 't onh afdr bhmd bee ead."

"Huh?" she asked when she realized he was in the bathroom and must have been brushing his teeth.

He ran some water then a second later met her at the door. "I said no, it's fine. I'll put it on after we eat. Just bring it downstairs with you."

She stood there frozen, staring at him with his damp, unkempt hair; a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad, tight chest begging for her fingers to explore every inch of him ...

"Ms. Boyce! Is there anything I can do for you?"

When she looked up into his face, one eyebrow was raised curiously, and he wore an evil grin. "Uh? Oh, um, no."

They stood staring at each other waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the awkwardness. When he didn't, she turned and went to her bedroom and put on her cooking apron -- she'd named her aprons for the duties. She'd worn it before. It was the one with the white sheer cover over the front and black apron that she'd worn at the lake.

Heading downstairs, she made coffee and fed Bessie. After perusing the cupboard, she saw some honey and walnuts and decided to make her mom's soft boiled eggs over toast and oatmeal with the honey and walnuts.

Just when everything was done and the oatmeal was perfectly cooked in the pot, she heard Bessie before she saw Hamish enter the kitchen, looking hot and sexy in his business suit.

She chuckled. "Sir, I don't think you'd ever be able to sneak up on me with Bessie at your side."

"Snap," he replied as he poured his mug. "I think we'll eat ..." He sipped the coffee then ran to spit it out in the sink. "Holy hell, woman!" he cursed. "What the shyte did you do to this coffee?!" He wiped his mouth and tongue with the dish towel, sputtering and spitting.

She shot him a confused glance because she hadn't poured herself any yet, and she didn't know what he was talking about. "What's wrong with it?"

"I need a strainer to drink this from all the grounds."

He showed her the cup and sure enough, the surface was thick with the tiny granules. She was pissed at herself for screwing up something so easy. "Well, shit. I'm really sorry."

He chuckled. "No worries. Here, let me show you again."

She was shocked senseless that he wasn't angry. "Thank you, Sir. I'd appreciate it." As she watched him make a fresh pot, she exclaimed, "Oh! I forgot the ... I've got it now."

He turned, leaned against the counter and watched her as she put the eggs on their plates. "What the bloody hell is that?" he asked, looking at the loose, softly boiled egg and toast mixture.

"It's what Mom would make when Catelyn and I were sick, but it's really filling. I can make something else if—"

"Didn't I say no eggs?" he asked angrily.

I am NOT going to let you to get to me! she thought. Hesitating a moment, she replied. "Sir, you said no bacon and eggs. This isn't bacon and eggs. It's eggs and toast." Then she held her breath.

He laughed. "Just testing you. And it's quite fine. Gran made something similar to this as well. I'll be happy to try it."

As she put oatmeal in the bowls, he asked, "Why are the oats all chunky?" His expression looked completely disgusted.

Are you going to criticize everything I do?! she thought. Before she could stop herself, she huffed, "Damnit!" Forcing her anger down, she said calmly, "And I thought I was a picky eater." She kept her tone light and playful so he wouldn't take the truthful comment as disrespect.

"Wow, I'm impressed. That was quick thinking for that comeback. I think I'll take off three swats with the paddle."

She smiled, relieved. "I'll accept the five swats," she offered.

"Six for arguing with me."

"Damnit! Fine. I'll take the three off."

"Nope. Offer is off the table."

"Well, fuck. I just screwed myself again."

He laughed long and hard. "You do make me laugh. How about we eat in the morning room."

"That sounds nice. Where is a tray I can use?"

He showed her where it was, and she loaded it up and added a pitcher of orange juice. Taking the handle, she lifted it a few inches then took in a sharp breath through her teeth before setting it back down. Shaking her right hand, she asked, "Sir? I don't think I can carry this without dropping it. Would you mind taking this?"

"Of course."

A few minutes later they were settled in the morning room at the table by the window, Bessie sitting at Gayle's feet, apparently hoping Gayle was more lenient with sneaking her a treat rather than Hamish. Eating slowly and watching his reaction as he tried her Americanized meal, he really seemed to like it.

Taking a bite of the oatmeal, he said, "Hmm. This is delicious! Think maybe you could add raisins in this next time?"

Her pride exploded and she smiled broadly, relaxing. "Oh! I never thought of that. Sure thing. How do you like the eggs? Honestly."

"It needs salt and pepper and try bread crumbs to give it some substance."

She smiled, not taking his constructive criticism to heart. "Don't forget the prescription and the blood pressure monitor, please, Sir."

"I'll get them at lunch. So, what are you doing Saturday?"

What kind of question is that? she wondered. Thinking a moment, she replied, "Anything you tell me to do."

He gave her a smug grin. "Good answer. I'm taking you and Bessie somewhere. I haven't taken her there in weeks."

"Any hint as to where?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope, none whatsoever."

"Well, poop."

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked, his voice feigning being hurt.

She wanted to be; it was easier to be angry with him so she wouldn't feel what she was beginning to feel about him. "Nah, not since you're taking me out. Think maybe, if I am good, you can show me around some more every weekend ... if you're not busy or anything?"

He nodded. "It would be my pleasure."

And on that final note, she was placed back in the dreaded belt with butt plug and sent off to work, cleaning his bedroom and bathroom first then decided to hit the large drawing room and the morning room.

------------------------

CUPAR TOWN CENTRE, Hamish's Office

After lunch, Hamish had settled down at his desk to begin work, but when he turned on the cameras, he had to search each room before finding Gayle in the large drawing room. She was looking at the cabinet with his CD collection below the music system with interest. He couldn't help but smile when she looked at the system more closely, as if to see if it was easy to operate so she could play music while she cleaned. But when she picked up the three remotes her shoulders bobbed then she put them back. He made a mental note to show her how to use it without it being obvious he had been watching her.

Again he was captivated watching her movements and how gracefully she flowed around the room. It was a few minutes later before he noticed she was favoring her left leg and wondered if the blister was returning.

"Well, hell," he mumbled.

Sending her a message, he chuckled as she jumped when it rang and took it out of her apron pocket. Looking at it, she sat down and fiddled a second to figure out how to use the instant message feature.

His phone vibrated, and he read, 'Its fine Sir.'




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 08



'Are you lying?' he sent back then looked at the monitor.

She had taken off her right heel and was rubbing her big toe, right where the blister had been before. Picking up her phone, she grinned then typed.

'Yes Sir.'

'OK to put on trainers. 1derful brekkie btw'

'Thank u! Glad u liked'

'C u later'

He watched her smile and mouth something to Bessie. Unbeknownst to her, though, he could read lips fairly well. 'Your daddy isn't a dickhead after all!'

----------------------------

With her hand being out of service, so to speak, she wasn't able to polish the floors the way she wanted to, but she did tackle the morning room and half of the large drawing room before she ran out of time. But still, she was happy with what she'd done.

By then, her palm had become unbearably itchy and burning, even though she put the hydrocortisone on it twice. The belt was once again chaffing her waist.

After bathing and cleaning up afterward, she spent some time with Jessie in the kitchen, setting the alarm for six so she wouldn't be late to 'her spot.'

Right on time, she sat naked on the floor by his recliner, her heart pounding waiting to hear any sound from the front door.

A moment later, she heard, "Little Miss Mop, I'll be right back down!" Bessie ran out to meet him, then human feet and puppy paw steps marched up the wooden stairs.

When it was quiet, she fixed his drink and set it on the coffee table then knelt again. As before, he came in, picked up 'The Scotsman' and his glass, took a sip before he sat down and she slipped his slippers on without any prompting.

When she got settled again, he asked, "How is your hand?"

Looking up at him, her words caught in her throat when she saw how handsome he looked. The color of his shirt made his eyes seem a darker shade of the brilliant cornflower blue than they already were. They seemed to laser right into her soul.

"It's itchy and painful and my left hand is killing me from using it so much and my shoulders are killing me." Then she chuckled at her rambling.

"And your foot?"

"Much better after I put on the sneakers. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, I made you a promise. Would now be a good time for you to call home?"

Her eyes flew open and she smiled widely. "Yes! Dad should be at lunch now, so ..."

He picked up his phone, dialed a few numbers then handed it to her. "I've typed in the international code, so just dial the ten numbers. I'll take Bessie out. Holler when you're off."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll keep it short."

"Just keep it under an hour," he teased then left her alone.

She was so nervous she had trouble remembering the number, but she dialed correctly. The second her father answered his phone she fought the tears. "Dad, how are you?!"

Forty five minutes later, she met Hamish at the fountain in the back and sat down beside him. "How are you holding up, love?"

She was so mentally numb she hadn't caught the pet name. "Umm," she mumbled, and broke down in tears.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her, rocking gently back and forth to let the tears of frustration and pain run its course. His heart broke for her, though not as much as hers had, he knew.

Ten minutes later, she was down to cry-hiccups, and she held onto him less and less. "I'm always here if you need to talk," he offered.

She nodded and pulled her head away though couldn't look him in the face. "I know. Thank you, Sir."

"Let's get some nibbles in you. Think it's burnt by now? If it is we have plenty of leftovers," he said, hoping to get at least a smile.

He succeeded. "I think so. Sir? I'm sorry about --"

Affectionately he kissed her forehead. "No apologies, ever. Hear me?"

"Yes Sir." Suddenly her cell phone alarm rang. Chuckling, she turned it off. "Dinner's ready."

They both laughed and were soon seated at the kitchen table. Dinner was fairly quiet because he knew how much she was hurting. He didn't want to push her, not on something as emotional as the topic of her family. Basically the only conversation was him telling her that for Friday's supper they would have the leftovers, and that Jessie wouldn't be coming over at all.

Gayle had to wonder if that was a good thing or a bad thing, considering Friday evenings were her punishment nights.

After they ate, he showed her how to take her blood pressure reading with the machine, and it was lower than when Dr. Jack, as she called him, took it, but it wasn't what he'd told her it should be. She finally confessed it was probably because she'd just been fitted for the chastity belt and the pressure of making sure she followed his instructions when he arrived home, not to mention the pain of her hand from landing in the nettles. He seemed to agree.

He told her to clean up the kitchen and meet him in the small drawing room. When she walked in, she met him at his recliner. He leaned forward on the cushion and asked, "Are you alright now?"

She nodded. "Yes Sir. Eating helped."

"Good."

Without a word, he removed the belt, leaving the butt plug in. "Kneel before me, facing away, knees together but relaxed."

When she was in position, he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, gently kneading the tight, sore muscles. A moment later she gurgled and moaned, tilting her head so he could reach different muscles. His strong thumbs dug at a knot, causing her to groan loudly.

"Too much?"

"Hell, no Sir! It's ... hmmphrg ... fucktastic."

He chuckled at her word but didn't stop massaging. The more she loosened up and conceded to him, the more excited he became; his hardened cock was proof of that. Leaning forward, he kept his hands busy while he began to kiss and nibble the base of her neck before moving to the crook. He was fully aware of the goose bumps that spread from the spots down her arms and knew he was having a very positive effect.

Licking his way from the crook to her ear, he flicked his tongue over the lobe once before he kissed it, took it between his lips and nibbled, gradually increasing the pressure. Her breathing instantly increased, and she began to fall back into him.

Since she'd been so upset with the phone call, he decided he wasn't going to edge her that night, though Hamish Jr. would have strongly protested that decision if it could.

Pushing her forward, he said, "Snuggle with me."

Once she was comfortably sitting in his lap, she happily put her head on his collarbone and bent her knees toward him, almost in a fetal position; he put his hand on her thigh and rested it there. He had to readjust his own legs to support her, and he was fine with that. Just having her in his arms was nice. It tugged at his heart strings in a way he hadn't expected, and he didn't fight it.

She raised her hand to his forearm and held onto him, pulling his arm closer to her like a blanket. "Sir? May I ... Is this OK?"

He lowered his head down to look deeply into her eyes and smiled. "Yes, you are allowed to touch me. Thank you for allowing me the honor," he teased.

"Anytime. But seriously, I haven't been here a week and it's this hard being away from them? I'm gonna be a mess at Christmas." She nestled back into him and sighed heavily to rid herself of the remaining stress in her body.

"Have you Americans ever heard of Skype?" he asked sarcastically.

She tilted her head further back, still against his collarbone. "Would you ... I mean, I could?"

"You can open your gifts together, though post them three weeks before. You can even eat dinner together, if you'd like. You seem to forget I want you happy working here. I want YOU happy."

Her eyes glistening with a new onslaught of tears, this time happy tears. "No, none of that," he chastised her.

Taking one last deep breath to calm down, she grinned sheepishly. "Sir? In that case, would you let me play some music while I clean? You have some cool CDs I'd love to listen to, if you don't mind."

He smiled back. "Of course I wouldn't mind. I'll show you how to turn them on before we go to bed. Now hush and let's watch some TV."

Flicking it on, he found 'Only Fools and Horses' on Sky, but she couldn't really get into it. She was glad he was so understanding and supportive of her feelings. Maybe being there wouldn't be so bad, as long as he kept being so damned sweet. 

Without realizing she said it out loud, she whispered, "But I still hate you." Then she chuckled to lessen the blow.

He roared in laughter, their bodies both shaking together, in rhythm, as one.

"My precious little fawn, I would expect nothing less of you. Now will you shut up so I can watch Del Boy fall through the hatch." 

-----------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it seems as if I'm covering every single day, but after the first week time will go by much, much quicker. 



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 09



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gayle is the young American woman who has taken on a six month contract to be a submissive maid to Hamish while living in a Scottish castle. This is in order to pay her mother's medical bills.

We left our heroine on Wednesday night after recouping from stinging nettles and a disheartening call home for the first time.

*****

CHAPTER NINE

THURSDAY, AUGUST 8TH, 2013

Thursday started off great. It was how it ended that made Gayle fight the urgent need to jump Hamish and ride the hell out of him.

She finished the large drawing room, straightened the small drawing and morning rooms, swept the floors and hovered the carpets. By the time she was done it was only quarter 'til three. There was nothing left to do because the floors needed time to dry if she mopped them, so she decided to do all three rooms first thing in the morning.

So she put the cleaning supplies away, let Bessie out and played with her for almost fifteen minutes. Then she put some toilet paper and tissues in the bathrooms that needed them, emptied the trash cans and dressed her hand, which was looking better already, though it was still quite red. The chastity belt wasn't bothering her as it was before because she kept putting powder on it, which helped a great deal with the chaffing.

Grabbing his dirty laundry from his bedroom and making a quick visual sweep to make sure everything was in order, she suddenly noticed a photo on the fireplace mantel. Getting closer, it was a family portrait of three people.

The man was incredibly handsome but had a stiffness in the way he held himself, very stern facial expression and a brooding presence. His face was etched so tightly she wondered if he had ever smiled in his life. The woman was a total knockout: tall, thin, dark, sun-tanned skin with a beautiful soft, warm, genteel smile.

There was a little boy in her arms, about a year old. His light, ginger hair did nothing to hide the devilish yet angelic mischievous cuteness in his big, blue eyes. But didn't he say he had a brother? Where was he? She set her mind to look for more photos of him, not wanting to brooch a touchy subject.

She put the clothes by the machines, got his mail and newspaper and set them on the coffee table. Downing a small glass of orange juice, she set her phone alarm for four and looked down at the

dog. "Well, Bessie, girl! Let's get this party started!"

She grabbed some CDs from the large drawing room that had caught her attention and went to the small drawing room. Putting in The Bay City Rollers, she turned to Bessie and started to dance ...

CUPAR TOWN CENTRE, Hamish's Office

Hamish had just gotten out of a very long, boring and non-productive meeting when he sat behind his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. The highlight of his day was when he turned on the camera to his home and searched which room Gayle was in.

The headache that he'd been fighting off instantly evaporated when he saw her by the couch dancing around like she was a hippie child -- her hands were way over her head, making her breasts appear firm and so damned squeezable, and they, too, danced lusciously. She swayed her hips to the beat, back and forth, back and forth, so enticingly sexy as hell. He could see she was singing along with the song, so she was familiar with the lyrics, and the title was easy to catch.

"'Shang-a-Lang?!' Bloody hell!"

"Mr. McD? Did you want me to call Buddy Bell?" Neill asked from just outside his office.

Gayle then got down on her knees and took Bessie's paws carefully then started to knee-dance while singing. He turned on the audio so he could hear her sing along, and he started to sing it softly right along with her.

"WE SANG SHANG A LANG AS WE RAN WITH THE GANG!

DOIN' DOO WOP BE DOOBY DO AY ..."

Hamish was sure he'd blow a load straight through his pants if she continued to shake her shoulders, making her breasts shake so fast he could barely keep his bulging eyes focused.

"WE WERE GROOVIN' IT.

WE WERE MOVIN' IT.

PUSSY FOOTIN' AND BOOTING IT 'ROUND."

"Oh fuck," growled Hamish while frantically massaging his cock over his trousers.

"BOSS?! You need me to ring Buddy Bell?" his assistant hollered again.

"What?" He never took his eyes off of the monitor. "Oh, no, no, Neill!"

She stood back up and twirled and flailed her arms theatrically throughout the room, her ponytail whirling around her face; a few strands loosened and framed her face magnificently.

"SHANG-A-LANG

SHANG-A-LANG

SHANG-A-LANG!"

She belted out at the top of her voice having skipped around the room and grabbed a candlestick as a microphone as she sang.

"Oh, fuuuck meee!" he growled, readjusting his hard, aching cock to prevent it from bending in half from the exertion.

Apparently the music stopped because she started moving slower, gracefully, like a ballerina. Her face had softened and exuded emotion, as if the words had a personal meaning to her. Suddenly she stopped, wiped her eyes and turned off the CD.

She was crying. His stunning, prancing fairy was crying! He picked up his phone about to call her when she sat down, took a long, deep breath and started to press the phone's keyboard. A second later he got a message.

'Done working Sir. Will do floors & start laundry 2morrow'

Hamish shook his head and grinned. "Good girl."

He texted back, 'Fine. Meet me at Tithe barn 6 nekkid. leave bessie in house. forego whisky'

She patted the canine on the top of her head when she got his message back. She replied, '10.4 over and out.'

Frowning at her text, his balls screamed at him for some relief, so he headed to his private bathroom, closed the door and took care of business, his penis detonating with the force of ten Hiroshima explosions.

Before she headed upstairs to clean up, she grabbed a banana and spent the extra time to put on make-up, though nothing heavy. As she finished putting on the eye shadow and eyeliner, she stood in front of the mirror and stared incredulously at the woman staring back at her.

"Why the hell are you doing this? You're here for six months, that's it. Enjoy it while it lasts, kiddo. You are nothing but his employee, his maid, his sex toy. You signed up for it. Live with it."

He wasn't all that bad, not really. He did take care of her, feed her, was being thoughtful and considerate in that he allowed the music to be on as she cleaned and wearing the sneakers. While he was very hard and crass the first few days, she'd come to realize that he was just teasing her or being playful, but he also made it known that he wouldn't put up with her smart-assed, disrespectful mouth. He never hurt her, not really. Not yet.

But she was scared, not so much about having sex with him but about being bound and flogged or whipped or both at the same time. That alone was enough to give her nightmares for the next fifty years. I have to talk to Hamish about it. He wanted me to, right? she thought.

-----------------------

By 6:20, Gayle could no longer sit still and had been pacing back and forth for the past ten minutes at the barn, making another path that would surely last for the next couple of centuries. She burst out laughing.

"And this path, folks," she said in a British accent and waving her arm out at the flattened grass, "was made by a forlorn girl waiting for her long-lost love after he'd been away almost a year fighting off the Roman vagabonds attempting to --"

"Did he ever come home to her?" came an unexpected voice from behind her.

She twirled around so fast her bare feet got twisted again, sending her backward. "Ow!!" she cried out then flipped over on her hip. "Fucking plug! I seriously need to stop falling on my ass like this!" She laughed.

Hamish laughed back and put out his hand. "Let me help you up, Grace."

"Haha," she grumbled as she stood, wiping the grass off her butt.

"Damn. I wanted to do that," he chortled.

"And you would have spanked me just because you could."

"Yep, that sums it up nicely. How was your day?"

"It was fun. Bessie and I won the Dancing With the Stars Trophy." She suddenly grew tense and her eyes grew solemn. "I think I chose the wrong song, though. Mom and I used to dance to that when I was a kid. Just made me sad."

Well, that answered my question why she was crying, he thought. 

Suddenly he noticed there was something different about her. She looked absolutely ravishing with her make-up, not to mention how the breeze blew her hair about, softening her face. He couldn't think of a damned thing to say, so he sipped the whisky he'd brought with him and stared.

Glaring back at him, she wondered what the hell was wrong. She was on time. She was naked. His mail and newspaper were on the coffee table. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscience.

"Nngth." He cleared his throat. "Nothing. It's just ... nothing." He had to stop himself because she'd caught him stuttering like an idiot.

I look like a tramp! I knew I shouldn't have done the make-up, she thought. Her shoulders deflated as they had when he criticized her at breakfast. She turned and walked away, but he caught up with her quickly.

"Hey, hey. What is it? Come sit."

She followed him to the ruined brick wall and just before he sat down put his hands on her hips, and she took a deep breath to think before she went off on him like she had before. "I didn't mean to overdo the make-up. I had some extra time and just wanted—"

Looking into her face tenderly, he told her, "You didn't. You are lovely." She blushed wildly. "How's your hand?"

Showing it to him, she replied, "It's still a little itchy, but the antihistamine has worked."

"Looks better. And your blood pressure?"

"That's normal too. I guess I shouldn't take it before you threaten me or after you, um ..."

He laughed. "That might be wise. Let me take the belt off. It must be uncomfortable to sit on this."

Nodding, she stood patiently waiting for him to remove it. She sighed in relief then sat beside him.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him, he said, "You seem ... out of sorts. Tell me what's worrying that pretty little head of yours."

"I don't know. I liked the bondage. That was fine, as are the toys you bought, and with your ... equipment in the dungeon, god only knows what you plan to do with me. Seeing the people in The Crucible with the woman's back all welted and bloody kinda left a bad taste in mouth. I've never been on the receiving end of that. I want to trust you, I do. But ..." Sighing heavily, she looked away.

"Ah. I think I understand. Would you like me to explain to you what I'm doing for a few weeks? I wouldn't want to give away all of the tricks up my sleeve though. Would that make it easier for you?"

She looked at him hopefully. "Um, would you mind? I've never been one to trust a ... stranger so soon and with something so ... personal."

"I certainly don't want you afraid of me, little fawn."

She chuckled. "I'm not sure whether I like you calling me that."

"I could always call you little salmon, but they're all squishy and wet and stinky and that's definitely not you, except for the wet part." 

She burst out laughing but blushed at his truthfulness. "Yeah, yeah. I get your point. Sir, I don't think I like not having control. That surprised me. At home I was responsible for Mom and Catelyn and worrying over Dad, so I made a lot of decisions, not just for myself but for the family. Here, I don't have that. Handing that over isn't ... easy."

"No, it's not. But you are trying. You've proven that to me." He sighed, sipped his drink then ran his hand through his hair. "Gayle, I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I know exactly what you are talking about. Mum died when I was almost two years old when she bled out birthing my little brother. They couldn't bring her back. I basically had to raise him, considering my father was so fucking wrapped up with his business he didn't have time to raise two rambunctious boys. I called the shots. I got on Ian's case if he fucked up. I even got ..." He took another long swig of whisky; his face contorted from the burn.

I even got what, Hamish? she asked herself. He'd opened up to her now, and she didn't want to push him further and stop him from sharing with her again.

"So, you're saying you have control issues too?" she asked light-heartedly.

He looked at her with a small smile. "You could say that. Father made all the decisions in my life, and I mean all. I rebelled, a LOT ... drank, women, you name it. A uni mate was a Dom, and the way he described it just made sense to me. I realized that's what I was, what I needed.

"I wasn't expecting someone as ... strong as you are, Ms. Boyce. Some subs I've been with just roll over, have no passion. I don't want a doormat in a roman ... any relationship." He was glad he covered himself quickly, not wanting to give her the impression he was referring to her.

"When you asked me the size of my cock at lunch I all but choked on my drink. I like your feistiness and your sass -- most of the time. And you've not lacked in your responsibilities ... yet. Seriously, I should have considered having you do a bit more research. I'm sorry if ... you feel you are in over your head."

"No, no! I never ... well, yes, I did."

He grinned. "It is absolutely, perfectly normal to feel what you are right now. As far as your concern when we scene, just know that in D/s everything is a process, for both the Dom and submissive. I'll start off light, just to give you a taste. Eventually, you will tell me when you're ready for more. I go at your pace, Gayle, not mine. I do understand this is new for you."

She nodded. "Going to one D/s 101 class doesn't make me a good submissive, huh?"

"That's what you don't see. From your responses to my touch and commands, I am reaching you on some deep level. Am I not?"

Shyly, she replied, "You have. And that's what scares me. I like ... taking care of you and your home, and Bessie, except when she farts." She chuckled softly. "How far will you take me before I ... break?"

"I won't let that happen. The Dom's responsibility is to help the sub tap into that innate part of herself; it's already in her. It's not something he or she can force, either. It certainly won't happen overnight. But just continue to talk to me, ask questions, as many as you need."

"I guess I forgot that. You can be kinda ... Sometimes I don't know if you're being serious or just teasing me and I get defensive and ..."

He was thoughtful for a moment. "Gayle, I don't mean to be a prat. It's all or nothing with me. For some reason I seem to have forgotten that you've no experience. I've been stern with you, and I will continue to do so. But you have to remember that I will not hurt you."

For the first time, ever, Hamish realized that he might be in over his head. He was afraid he had pushed someone into doing something that she couldn't do ... or was denying or fighting what she was feeling. But she had talked with him, and that was all that he could have asked.

"Let's get supper. I'm starving," Hamish announced as he stood and put out his hand.

"Sir? I am curious. Seeing the submissives and the expressions on their faces, like they were happy being at their Dom's beck and call was ... I liked that. I like making those around me happy."

He bent down and kissed the top of her head. "You've made me happy thus far, my little kumquat."

"Oh, god help me. Can you stick with 'little fawn,' please?"

He chuckled. "I will consider it. And by the way, I realized I was wrong in leaving you handcuffed all night. I meant to remove them as soon as you fell asleep, but I think I fell asleep before you did. I'm sorry. I will not happen again. I can assure you."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, Sir. I mean, what if there had been a fire? Technically, without a proper window for escaping I shouldn't be sleeping in that small, cramped room. Maybe you should give me the nicer bedroom that you promised me?" 

He gave her a nasty look. "Ms. Boyce, I never made such a promise. I said I don't like doormats. I didn't mean I like brattiness."

"I wasn't being bratty. Just making a point." A teasing smile slowly crossed her lips.

"You might have been trying, but I'm your boss, and if I say you were being bratty then you were."

"So, if you say my hair is purple than I'm not allowed to argue with you?"

Hamish was fighting back a smile himself. "No. Now stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop arguing with me."

"I'm not."

He opened the back door, and as she passed him, he said, "I get the last word as well."

"Okay."

"Enough. That was my last word!"

"Yes Sir."

"Gayle!" he bellowed then laughed. "Shut UP!"

"Okay." She snickered; she couldn't help it.

He growled, shook his head then laughed, causing her to laugh along with him. When Bessie joined them she started to bark as well.

"Ms. Boyce, how do you feel about trying out the St. Andrews cross tonight after dinner?"

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him with her mouth wide then closed it quickly.

He laughed again. "I win."

"Hmm mmmm," she mumbled negatively.

They had just passed a chair in the long, narrow hallway, so he grabbed her elbow, though not roughly, sat down, threw her over his knees and smacked each ass cheek before she even realized what happened.

"Agggh!" she screeched, but he hadn't slapped her hard enough to hurt her.

SMACK. SLAP! SMACK!

"Okay! Okay! I get it!" she screamed and kicked her feet. She laughed and squealed the entire time.

SLAP! SMACK!

He then helped her to her feet and turned her to face him, keeping his hands on her hips. "Now, who gets the last word?"

She stared at him for a moment, grinned then pointed her finger at his chest.

"Exactly. You should remember that."

He gently took her face, pulled her to him and kissed her softly. She moaned and took a step closer, attempting to put her hands on his shoulders for more.

He pulled away. "As much as I would love to keep kissing you, dinner will burn."

Her lips formed an 'o' before she loosened them and nodded.

"That's more like it."

Walking toward the kitchen, she took his hand. He squeezed it back.

Hamish suddenly grew somber when he realized it had been a while since he'd laughed as much as he had since Gayle had been there. I'm in some deep shyte, he thought.

While they were eating, Hamish asked Gayle, "With our little trip on Saturday, think you can come up with a picnic basket?"

"Hmm, I guess so. But wouldn't it be better if I put some food in it?" she grinned sheepishly.

"Smart arse." He chuckled. "Just for that, I think you'll prepare the food. What would you make for a picnic at home?"

"Um, fried chicken, potato salad, maybe macaroni salad, deviled eggs, that kind of thing."

"That sounds delicious. Why don't you take a look in the cupboards and make a list. I'll have Jessie come by in the morning so you can give it to her. That should keep you busy tomorrow."

"Shoot. I'd have to get the potato salad recipe from Catelyn."

"No worries. You can email her after you clean up."

After they finished eating, Hamish sat at the table watching Gayle clean the dishes at the sink. "Ms. Boyce, if I haven't told you already, you've done well this week. You got a lot accomplished."

He hadn't mentioned that while she was waiting for him outside he checked out the rooms she'd cleaned, and for the most part she reached most of the difficult hidden areas, but there was nothing he felt he had to punish her for.

She turned from the sink smiling at him. "Thank you for saying that, Sir. I was going to ask if you want me to do the upstairs bedrooms next week."

He smiled. "That would be good."

Turning back to the sink, she made more noise than she had to and said softly, "I ... won ... if you'd ... want to ... just to ... what it ... have to." The plates clean, she put them in the dish rack.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 09



"Woman, I didn't understand what you are asking." He chuckled.

She sighed and faced him. "I was wondering if you'd want to use the flogger on me, just to see what it feels like, but you don't have to."

He couldn't believe that with one conversation that his words were enough to make her feel comfortable enough to try. That was something, at least. He appreciated her courage and willingness, and that thought instantly got him hard again. 

"Oh, so, you want me to hang you up to the chandelier and flog you?" he asked with a serious grin.

"I'm afraid of heights," she replied, smirking.

He laughed out loud, then a thought occurred to him. "So, I can't send you up a thirty foot ladder to hang the flags then?"

"No, you cannot," she gasped, though she was sure he was teasing this time.

"How's about a hot air balloon or a parachute jump?" 

"Now I didn't say that!" Her eyes lit up. "Would you really let me do that?"

"Nope." She frowned playfully. "Just testing your height limits. We can give it a go, flogging I mean. I'm glad you feel you trust me now."

Echoing his words, she told him, "Now I didn't say that!" she laughed and turned back to the dishes.

"I'll be in my library setting the computer up."

"Great. Thanks, Sir."

Once she was alone she couldn't believe she actually asked him. He did have a certain gentle touch with his hands that was for sure. But to have enough balls to actually ask for it? What was she going to ask for next, the whip? "Hell, no!" she chortled.

She walked into his room and saw him sitting behind his desk. He picked up his head and gave her an odd look. Undeterred, she removed her dinner apron, set it on the chair and knelt beside him on the dog bed. 

Watching her every move, he remembered how sexy she was when she danced earlier, and Hammy Jr twitched with anger at the lack of attention. Down boy, he thought.

"Much better. Come here, Ms. Boyce," he said a moment later, patting his thigh, his knees parted.

At hearing the deep, husky tone of his voice, she swallowed hard and awkwardly sat in the chair between his legs. Having such little space on the cushion, she felt the bulge in his crotch. He put his hands on her hips and placed his scruffy chin in the crook of her neck. She shivered as a blast of his hot breath shot over her ear.

"I've called Jessie, and she'll be here at 8:30. Have the list ready for her."

"Yes Sir," she sighed.

"Hands flat on the desk, keep your shoulders against me." He waited. "You are so warm. Spread your legs for me."

As she took a deep breath and did as she was told, he grabbed her inner thighs and lifted them until her knees were bent over his thighs. Once again she was totally exposed to him, though he didn't have a front row and center view. He slipped his hands to her upper thighs, teasing his fingers closer to her clit and labia, but not touching them. 

"Hmmphsiirrr," she gurgled. "I need t' ..."

She was silenced when he dug his finger into the folds of her clit and rubbed it a few times. "Shh. Relax, will you? I feel you getting wet, little fawn."

Not letting go, he manipulated her nub for a minute before slipping it down to her entrance. He grunted before he kissed and bit her earlobe with his lips, eliciting a groan in response. She threw her head back against his collarbone, her mouth gaping open, her breathing becoming rapid.

"Slow your breathing, control it. In ... out ..."

She took a few breaths while he traced his moistened finger to her clit, pressing harder on the right outer lip, apparently another erotic button she didn't know she had. She cried out in pleasure at his touch. He brought his other hand up to her face and pushed it toward him, looking deeply into her eyes.

"You are so beautiful when you allow yourself to enjoy it," he cooed.

She smiled bashfully as he brushed his bottom lip against hers, their eyes still locked. She'd always closed her eyes when kissing, but at this moment she didn't want to. Pinching her lip with both of his, she placed her hand on the back of his, which was promptly met with a smack.

Breaking the kiss, he took her hand and lay it back on the desk. "Do NOT move it again!"

She frowned, but only from disappointing him. "Kiss me again, Sir. Please."

"I had every intention of doing so, but on my terms," he replied.

He kept playing with her clit, reveling in feeling it pulse and throb under his finger. His own cock pulsated as she sighed loudly, her legs tensing as if trying to hold onto them for dear life. Leaning back, he pushed her forward a little and wiped his dampened hands on a towel. She watched as he connected to the internet, then he took hold of her breasts and massaged them a bit harder than he had before.

"Go ahead and email your sister for the recipe."

Oh, fuck! she thought. Lord, give me strength!

Taking a deep breath, she took the mouse and accessed her account. She was shocked to see so many from her sister, dad and aunt. She gasped in fear and looked at him petrified. "Sir?! They have your number, right? Why'd they—" He nodded, calming her down. "May I ..."

"Yes. Yes, of course. Just glance to make sure they aren't urgent. You may look at them tomorrow after I come home."

"Oh, thank you, Sir!"

Thankfully, they were just 'how are you' emails, and her body collapsed with relief. Her email to her sister read, 'Hey! I'm doing good. Have a faver to assk. Cann yu gett meee Momm's potatototo salad reccipeee?'

Her spelling had progressively gotten worse because she had to close her eyes at what Hamish was doing to her. He tweaked her nipples in unison at the base then pulled on them, gently at first before pinching them. She moaned loudly, tilted her head down and tried to breath.

Hamish burst out laughing, bringing her around a little. "Take a look at what you wrote."

It was a moment before she could. "Oh, dear god!" Then she, too, laughed.

"Give it another go, will you. I didn't realize I had to give you lessons in spelling too," he teased.

As soon as she was done, having had to rewrite it three times from him continuing to torment her breasts, she sent the email and just sat there. She was incredibly wet at that point, and she couldn't catch her breath.

"Well done."

He kissed her again, his tongue searching for hers, but he didn't have to look far. She eagerly gave it to him, even flicking it over the length of his bottom lip.

He moaned from the back of his throat. "Down on your knees, under the desk."

She looked at him wide-eyed. "Whaat?!"

He chuckled at her surprise. "You heard me. I need to feel that hot mouth of yours around my cock."

Oh, I thought. "Yes Sir."

It was a moment before she got in the position he was happy with: the bottom of her feet touched the back of the desk, her head just past the center drawer; his protruding crotch at the right level before her. She watched him quickly unzip his jeans, pull the waist to his hips then pull out his long, hard cock, also exposing his balls.

Ohmygod, she gasped to herself.

"Kiss my cock, little fawn, lick it, but I want to hear you beg to take it in your mouth. I want you to want it. I want your body to ache for it. Understand?"

"Yes Sir," she replied breathlessly.

Her heart now pounding inside her chest, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of the head, her eyes glued on his. He smiled as she licked under the shaft, making sure that the tip of her tongue touched the folds underneath.

"Ohhh fuuuck," he moaned, closing his eyes and laying his head on the head rest.

She knew she had him! Trying to keep back a grin, she took her time running her tongue down his cock, flicking the tip here and there to tease him before going back to the head. Closing her eyes as well, she moved back down to the base and flicked her tongue between that and his balls.

His legs jerked, and he groaned, "Take my balls ... lick them."

Happily, she licked his balls a few times before gently sucking them into her mouth, one at a time. There was movement above her head, and when she looked up his hands were clutching the end of the arm rests so tightly his knuckles were white; his mouth hung open.

For several minutes she licked the entire length of his cock, kissing and flicking her tongue over it watching his facial expression. With every single touch his body jerked, and he sighed softly. When his moaning became more frequent, she didn't know how much longer she could hold off herself. Her pussy got wetter by the second and her pussy ached for some attention of its own.

"For fucks sake! Beg already!" he cried out.

She tried not to laugh but heeded his plea, leaned forward and dove onto his enlarged penis, taking in half, pulled back out then took more of him.

"Hmm, yes! That's it," he moaned.

Going back down on him, the tip of his cock just at the back of her throat, he put his hand on the back of her head and pushed down, forcing it past the level of comfort. The noises that escaped her lips shocked her, as memories began to flood back to her ...

"Hmmmphgh, hmm hmm," she protested, using all of her strength to pull her head back until he was no longer in her mouth. "Sir, please," she gurgled. "Please don't ..."

He looked down and saw the fear in her eyes. "Too deep?" She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's okay. Just ... let me ... don't push."

He put his hand on her cheek. "Yes, little one. You feel so damned good."

Closing her eyes, she went back down on him, quickly getting back into the mood, her fears subsiding, and for several minutes he moaned and jerked, gripping her hair with his fingers on the back of her head. Her mind was nowhere else but what she was doing, pleasing him, loving his moans of pleasure. She felt her own body begin to melt, and she knew an orgasm was on its way, but she also knew he wouldn't want her to come without his permission.

She hummed a few times, which caused him to groan loudly, grabbed her face and jerked her head back hard, until he was out of her mouth completely.

"Hmmmmm, no, no," he exhaled sharply, his breathing heavy.

"Sir? What? What did I do wrong?" she asked, worried to death.

He smiled at her. "Not a fucking thing, love."

She frowned in confusion. "But ... you didn't come," she stated matter of fact.

He pushed back the chair, zipped his jeans back up and closed his knees. Still smiling, as if frustrated yet content, he leaned forward, took her by the shoulders and pulled her into his lap; her legs dangling to the side, her drenched pussy soaking into his jeans.

Pushing her head to his shoulder, he said, "You're going to have to wash this pair tomorrow."

She leaned her head back and said, "That was your fault." He laughed and tapped her shoulder. "Sir? Why didn't you ... I mean, it was okay, wasn't it?"

"You silly girl. I didn't want to come. Well, I did, but ... I do have control. How am I to control a sub, you, if I can't control myself?"

She grinned wickedly, and he read right through her. "Did you come, Ms. Boyce?" She shook her head. "Then I do have control over you, do I not?"

"Eh," she sighed and closed her eyes then chuckled. "A little."

Ignoring her smug reply, he said, "Hey, your sister responded."

After Hamish printed the recipe for Gayle, he shut off his computer and they headed upstairs to her bedroom. Removing the butt plug, he commented that he'd be putting in a larger one on Sunday; she moaned her disapproval. Putting the belt back on, she protested that she wouldn't play with herself, if he could trust her just once. He disagreed. He was right to. She sure as shit would have made herself come.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 9, 2014

"Guid morn, lass!" Jessie said as she came into the kitchen and joined Gayle at the kitchen table. "Hower are ye biding thes morn?" 

"Hi. Morning! I'm fine, thanks," Gayle replied, hazarding a guess that she had been asked how she was. Would you like some coffee?"

"Nae, thenk ye. Av awreddy hud sae much all be peein' fur days." She laughed.

Handing her the list they discussed, or translated, the different ingredients Jessie didn't understand. It went far beyond the standard, 'po-tay-to' versus 'po-tah-to.'

"Thank you, Jessie. It feels awkward having you get food. I wish I could go on my own. Then again, I'd drive on the wrong side of the road and probably get lost and end up in Ireland." They laughed. "Before you go, though, could we do one load of laundry, just to make sure I've got it right?"

"Ay coorse, hen."

The day went by quickly for Gayle. She'd put in a load of clothes then peel, chop or cut up food for the potato salad, which was done before the load was ready to go in the dryer. Around three she started frying the chicken, thankful he had a cast iron skillet. Without one, fried chicken isn't the true southern fried chicken that she was used to her grandmother making.

After she straightened up the large drawing room it was 4:30, plenty of time to clean herself up before he got home. As she relaxed in the warm, sudsy water, she cursed the belt, being that she couldn't relax as much as she would have liked.

Soon enough she panicked about what kind of punishment was in store for her after dinner. It was highly unlikely she would have any appetite at all. She remembered there would be fifteen somethings, whether that was with a flogger, cane, or even the whip. She prayed she'd still be alive after the last spanking of ... whatever tool he decided to use.

Suddenly her cell phone rang and it startled her. Picking it up, she read, 'I want you to be comfy when I get home. jeans/blouse is fine. meet in kitchen at 6. Help yourself to wine if you'd like.'

"Wine? What?!" she asked Bessie, who was lying on the rug in front of the sink. "He's going to freaking kill me, I just know it!"

She sent, 'maybe with dinner Sir. Will see you then'

'ok Do you know what day it is?'

'Friday, Sir'

'Yes, and it's also punishment day.' It might have only been words in a text, but she could still read the ominous undertone. She didn't reply.

'Do I now have pink briefs after today's wash?'

'Not so much pink but more of a blush rose' She figured she'd counter-attack his threat of the dungeon with humor. 

'rofl hope you are kidding'

She laughed. 'Well actually just the waistband is pink'

A second later came, 'behave yourself'

'Never'

His last text was a winking smiley, but she wasn't quite sure how to take that.

-------------------------

For ten minutes Gayle sat at the kitchen table, and with every second that passed more and more butterflies erupted in her stomach, instantly taking away her appetite, just as she thought it would.

Not being able to hear anything from the front door in the kitchen, she did hear a high pitched whistle, which Bessie responded to and tore out of the kitchen. The butterflies then raced up through her esophagus and fluttered out of her mouth. Thinking he'd come straight to the kitchen, she put the three ice cubes in the glass of whisky she'd gotten for him, even though he didn't ask for it.

Then she thought of his slippers -- he hadn't asked about those, either, but would he want them? Shit! she cursed herself. Please, please don't want your slippers!

Five minutes later he and Bessie walked into the room. He was holding his drink and wearing his slippers, as well as a warm smile. She instantly tensed as he sat down across from her, immediately noticing the extra glass.

"Ms. Boyce, I said you could have a glass of wine, not waste my whisky," he said, but the corners of his mouth were raised a bit in a smile.

"I figured since I forgot your damned slippers I'd have your drink waiting for you."

He laughed. "I know. I'm just teasing you." He took the ice cubes out of the second glass, threw them in the sink and placed the full glass beside it. Then he sat back down. "I will have that tomorrow. I don't imbibe before ... I noticed my clothes were folded neatly in the drawers and hung up. Well done." He didn't want to make her any more nervous than he knew she already was.

She smiled with pride. "Thank you, Sir. So, what are we going to do about dinner?"

"We shall rummage through the vast selection in the kitchen and either nuke them or heat them in the oven. Think you can handle that?" he asked sarcastically then grinned.

"Um, was that English?" She laughed.

"Last time I checked." He stood and went to the refrigerator. "Let's see what we have here."

By the time all the plates and bowls were set on the table, Gayle had completely lost her appetite. She looked at the food on her plate and felt like her face paled. She'd eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but had to force it down. Picking at the meat and swishing the remaining food around with the fork, she knew Hamish was watching her.

"Ms. Boyce, you aren't hungry?"

"No Sir, not really."

"And why is that?"

Oh, she thought, because you are going to beat the shit out of me when we're done and I'm sooo not in the mood to barf up anything I eat now. Instead, she replied honestly, "Because I'm nervous as hell, Sir."

He shook his head, put his fork down, sipped his whisky then reached across the table in search of her hands, which she kept to herself. He huffed and said, "Give me your hands."

She looked up but had trouble looking him in his eyes, but she slid her hands to his until he clinched her fingers. "Gayle, don't do that to yourself. Punishing you isn't to scare you. It's to prevent you from cocking up again. Does that make sense?" 

She nodded. "That doesn't make me feel any better, though."

He sighed and squeezed her fingers. "I wasn't going to tell you this, but there are two things that you have to remember. One: I am not going to hurt you. Two: I am going to take it easy on you. You still have your red and yellow. Either of those words will allow you a break until you've gathered yourself."

"I can't get it out of my head." She sighed and took a long swallow of water. "One day after school I boiled some eggs. My girlfriend next door called so I went to talk with her real quick. Half an hour later she asked me what I was having for lunch. I tore back home and was met with the sound of the every smoke alarm going off and the smell of the most ungodly odor you have ever smelt in your life."

"Smelt? That's not English."

"Well, after smelling that I lost a few brain cells." He laughed. "I opened every single window and turned on every fan I could find to clear it out before Mom got home from work two hours later. Let's just say she was as disgusted as I was. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is—"

"Don't ask for boiled eggs?"

"Haha, and no. The panic I felt waiting for her to come home almost killed me. I feel the exact same way now."

"Stay right where you are," he said and walked out.

"Bessie, it's been nice knowing you. I hope you have a long and happy life and breed lots of lovely little Bessies which all pee over his slippers on a daily basis."

Gayle took a few more bites until Hamish came back in with a glass of wine, which he set on the table in front of her; his other arm was behind his back. "Ms. Boyce, choose a hand."

She looked up at him oddly, wondering what kind of game he was playing. "The right one."

Pulling his hand out, he handed her a pair of black, thick slippers with a bow on the tops. Her eyes flew open, but she wasn't sure whether she should smile or not.

"Would I kill you if I'd bought you slippers?" He sat back down.

It took her a second to get her brain to work again. "Um, yes. You could always give them to Jessie for Christmas."

He burst out laughing. "That's very true. At least you've not lost your sense of humor."

She smiled playfully. "Who said I was being funny? Yeah, I get it. I'm still nervous, but I get it. My feet thank you for the slippers."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 09



"You're welcome, toes. As well as punishment, I'm a big believer in positive reinforcement. Now, finish your dinner before I have to force feed you."

Twenty minutes later, Hamish removed the chastity belt in the laundry area, placed it on the dryer and told her to clean the kitchen. He then excused himself with no explanation of what he was doing, not that she was in the position to ask. When she was done, he told her to go upstairs, remove the butt plug and return wearing nothing but the slippers.

Coming down the stairs, she saw him sitting on the bottom step tossing a tennis ball across the hall for Bessie, who eagerly returned it, her tail wagging vigorously. When he heard the wooden step creaking, he turned and smiled. Standing, he put out his hand, which she took; she needed help with the last few steps, her legs were shaking that badly.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Shaking her head, she replied, "Yes Sir."

He chuckled as he led her down the short hallway towards the door to the dungeon. She was so focused on that evil door that her arm suddenly jerked, hard. Turning around, she asked, "What are you doing? I thought we were—"

"No, Ms. Boyce," he grinned as he opened his library door. "The dungeon is for when you REALLY fuck up."

"Oh, shit!" she groaned then chuckled ... until she walked into the room.



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 10



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gayle had just walked into Hamish's library on the night of her first 'official' punishment.

I know this is short, but it's been three weeks, and unfortunately real life bit us so Scooter and I agreed to make this short just to put something out there. The next chapter is almost done so there won't be another three week wait.

Hope you enjoy, and thanks for the comments. 

CHAPTER TEN

FRIDAY EVENING, Hamish's Library

Gayle's mouth dropped when she saw the same massage table he bound her to on Monday, but the thin, wooden arms and legs were gone. On top toward the end was a round paddle leaning against four restraints, and she could see one side was furry while the other had some dimpled material on it. Beyond that she saw a blanket in front of the fireplace, a lone log burning brightly, though it added no heat to the sudden chill that crept through her bones.

Fridays were now her least favorite day of the week.

"Join me, Ms. Boyce."

Nervously she approached him, her feet barely able to move forward by her own free will.

"Do you know why we are here?" The harsh tone in his voice scared her to death, though it didn't show in his eyes.

She could only nod. 

"And what might those reasons be?"

She knew exactly what they were. Trying to keep her voice from quivering, she replied, "I masturbated in my room, came when you told me not to and mouthed back on Wednesday."

"Yes, those are right. I think five for the first two then fifteen for Wednesday." He chuckled. "That wasn't a very good day for you, was it?" She was in no mood to laugh. "That's 25. What else?"

"Whaaaa ... 25?!! You can't be serious!" she gasped.

"Oh, I am quite serious, lass. What else?" Wracking her brain, she started to panic. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "No, none of that. Trust me. It seems you've forgotten your faux pas at the lack of waxing?" 

She gave him a look of horror.

"Yes, exactly. Worry not. The spanking in the kitchen was sufficient."

She relaxed somewhat, though she cringed at the thought of the 25. She started to twist her fingers anxiously.

"What else did I tell you?"

Again she was put on the spot, and she hated it. She shook her head.

"I told you that I would take it easy on you, so stop twitching."

She sighed, though it gave her no relief to know she wasn't going to be flayed alive.

Reaching behind him he grabbed a single restraint. "Give me your hand."

Gathering all the courage she could muster, she put out her hand and watched him wrap the furred restraint around her wrist and lock it in place. When he reached behind him for the second cuff, she automatically put out her other hand. Her heart started to pound as reality set in.

Not saying a word, he grabbed the other two cuffs and secured them around her ankles. "Step out of the slippers, please." After she did, he pulled out a blindfold from his pocket. "This blindfold, I'm hoping, will help you with not seeing what's coming. It's best to not know. But as I promised, I will tell you when I've started and when I've stopped."

"Thank you, Sir. I'd appreciate that." She didn't, not really. She'd rather see what was coming at her, but she had admitted to him that she'd have to trust him. Lesson number one, dear, she told herself.

When he put it on, he asked if she could see; she could not. With his help, he instructed her to get on the table in the 'down' position -- on her knees, her breasts to the table, hands grasping her ankles. He then snapped the hooks together from each wrist to each ankle and stepped back admiring the view. He could hardly contain himself at seeing her luscious ass presented to him in such a manner. His slowly growing, hardening cock was proof of that.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked as he stood by her shoulders, his hand on the small of her back to give her what little comfort he could.

NO! she thought, even though it wasn't as bad as she feared it would be. With the blindfold on her hearing tripled, which only added another level of apprehension. She could feel her heart begin to pound harder, as her chest was flush against the table.

"Yes Sir."

"Gayle," he said softly; his voice filled with gentleness. "Remember you may use yellow and red. Tell me what they mean." She correctly told him. "Very well."

Brushing her hair aside that had gotten tangled with the blindfold strap, he wished he could see the look in her eyes to pick up on how she was feeling. But it wasn't necessary. Stepping back, he slowly ran his hands from her ankles up to her thighs, letting his fingernails torment her to the point of goose bumps breaking out. He couldn't help but grin as she whimpered softly when he purposefully dug his nails into her fleshy, luscious ass cheeks. Her fingers flexed a few times before fisting tightly, almost to the point of her knuckles turning white.

"Gayle, love, loosen your hands." After she did, he said, "I'm just enjoying the softness of your skin, its warmth, its reaction. I will let you know when the punishment will commence. Understood?" 

"Yessssir, un ... derstood," she replied, barely above a quiet sigh.

For the next several minutes, he continued to caress her skin, trailing his nails from her shoulders to the small of her back. She hadn't moaned or voiced her pleasure, which disappointed him greatly. There was nothing more exciting and a cock-hardener than hearing the whining and whimpering of a woman enjoying his hands on her body.

Taking the paddled, he twirled it sideways in his hand, and an odd desire of wanting to play a game of Tennis. Tossing that thought out of his head, he rubbed her ass again. 

"Ms. Boyce, I will begin now," he said delicately, not wanting to frighten her. Still, her entire body tensed. "No, no. None of that. Relax. Count off each stroke." 

It took a moment of caressing the furred side of the paddle over her thighs and ass until he saw her hands unclench. At that point, he knew she was ready. 

Flipping the paddle over to the dimpled side, he made contact with the area between her ass and thigh, but the swing had no more power behind it than a love pat on a baby's bottom. Regardless, she gasped and tightened up her ass cheeks. It took all he had not to laugh because she was exactly where he wanted her. In her mind it was going to hurt like hell so she'd set herself up for the impact.

"One?"

He smiled at her trepidation. Oh, you don't know me at all, lass, he thought.

Tap. 

"Two?" 

Still he was met with the same question of whether that was a real paddle or not because it didn't hurt at all. But it was far from what she was expecting; it hardly stung at all.

TAP. Tap.

"Three. Four."

Many more slightly harder paddles later and at the count of twenty, her ass cheeks had pinkened very nicely, to Hamish, anyway. He rubbed her cheeks with the furred side for a minute to give her a break. Her breathing was then shallow, and thankfully she didn't seem to be too overwhelmed.

"Color, Ms. Boyce?"

"Green, Sir."

"Good. Good. Just five more to go. Are you up for it?"

"Yes Sir."

He smiled and gave her three more slaps a bit harder than before, though nothing close to what he could really do. Only then did she start to moan and squirm, her bum gyrating and clenching in time to the throbs of pain and pleasure that were coursing through the cheeks, said cheeks now being the lovely reddy pink that he wanted them. 

He stopped and stood beside her, gently massaging her shoulders. "I will give you two that will be much harder, but I think you can take it. Are you ready?"

"I think so, Sir."

"No, no. 'Think so' is not an acceptable answer."

She took a moment before she replied, "I'm ready, Sir."

"Good girl."

Standing by her feet once more, he smacked each cheek harder, much harder. 

"Uggh ... God! Fuck!!" she gasped loudly as her body lurched forward but didn't go anywhere. Curling her toes and fisting her hands, she continued to whine and attempted to force the sting away. 

"Gayle, I'm going to free you now. Just breath deeply and try to relax."

Putting the paddle on the floor, he unlocked the restraints carefully so as not to hurt her, but didn't remove them from her wrists and ankles. "Bring your arms up slowly, but it'd be best if you keep your legs as they are."

She didn't reply but did as she was told, grunting at the stiffness in her shoulders and neck, even though she wasn't in the position for longer than fifteen minutes. Resting her hands above her head, when he removed the blindfold she covered her eyes from the sudden brightness. 

Knowing she'd need some time to get off the table, he massaged her neck muscles. "Now take it easy, slow your breathing." She grumbled then nodded. "You did well." 

Again she muttered something, but he didn't ask her to repeat it. He simply continued to massage her shoulders and wrists to ease the knots from her muscles after all the pulling that she'd done. 

It was several minutes before she said, "Um, that wasn't so bad."

He burst out laughing. "I told you it wouldn't be, but will you EVER disobey me again, little fawn?"

Finally looking up at him, she replied, "No Sir." 

He wasn't the angry ogre she thought he'd now be, and that reason alone was enough to relax her completely. She had taken her punishment, rather well, she thought, and would make sure never to displease him again.

"Alright. I'm going to help you sit up."

A moment later her legs were draped over the table, and he stood between her knees. He placed his hands on her cheeks and looked into her eyes compassionately. Leaning forward, he rubbed his nose against hers before he took her bottom lip between his, pulling quickly before he pressed them harder. She moaned softly before she kissed him back, wanting to touch him but was afraid. 

Closing her eyes she fell into him, and he accepted her generosity. Sliding his hands down to her waist, he circled his thumbs, causing her to moan again. He took a step closer and turned in a way that pressed his now hard cock against her knee. Her eyes flew open and something ignited inside of her. Her pussy tingled and her heart began to race, her nipples pressed into his shirt-clad chest. 

Her mind went blank relishing in the new but scary sensation and gave a final groan when he pulled back, their lips parting. She gazed into his eyes, questioning how she was feeling -- but more importantly, WHAT she was feeling.

"Grip the table behind you and spread your legs." 

She tensed again but did as she was told, blushing wildly, her cheeks burning as hot as the fire. Her mind wondered what the hell she was doing, her body didn't fight at all. Nervously she watched as he got on his knees, threw her legs over his shoulders in one swift motion and spread her labia with his thumbs to expose her clit. The edges were moist with her juices, and the outside of the lips glistened.

Lifting his head up, he cooed, "You, my dear, have the most perfect pussy I have ever seen."

She would have thanked him but it would be too ridiculous to say. She simply blushed a light crimson. Smiling, he rubbed her clit with the side of his thumb slowly, getting the response he was hoping for. It throbbed at the touch, and she craved more, though she wouldn't allow herself to enjoy it -- why she had no idea. 

He continued to tease her nub, watching every jerk of her body, every deep intake of breath. Suddenly he smelled her arousal, and his cock twitched from his own. Wetting his lips, he used his entire tongue to swipe from her entrance to her clit, making sure to slide the tip under the hood and flicked it back and forth rapidly.

"Ahhh. Hmmmm," she moaned, closing her eyes tightly and trying to keep herself upright from the shaking of her arms.

Settling in, he began to suck and lick her clit never touching her opening, bringing her to the edge, all the while listening to her moaning to determine when she was close and when to pull back. Her breathing was fast and furious, and her constant whimpering was enough to tell him it was time.

Leaning his head back and looking at her, he said, "Gayle, look at me." Her eyes flew open obediently. "I am going to spend the next ... oh, say half an hour down here. You may come as often as you'd like, but you must tell me. Understood?"

Her perfect breasts rose and fell before she could reply with a simple nod. Laying her head back down, she let herself go and tried to feel what he was doing to her -- his warm breath, his soft tongue lapping every inch of her sex, his groans seemed to follow her increasing excitement.

"Oh, oh ... hmmgph," she mumbled and pushed her hips down, offering him more, wanting more. "Shiiiiiiit." She collapsed and gripped the other side of the table, her head just barely hanging over the side. 

Regretfully he leaned back and told her before going back down on her, "That's it, little fawn. Give yourself to me."

"No, no. I can't ... I won't," she mumbled, her breath heavy. 

He completely ignored her pleas, took the entire nub between his teeth and pulled, eliciting a high-pitched squeak and a deep, long sigh. Her breathing became even heavier when he took it between his teeth before sucking on it while his fingers teased her entrance.

For the next several minutes he eagerly licked and sucked relentlessly until she was writhing on the table, gasping and whining loudly. 

"Stopppp, pleeese ... oh, OH! I'mgonna ... come!"

"COME FOR ME!"

Suddenly, her legs tensed, her heels dug into his shoulder blades before she gripped the edge of the table and growled loudly as she came. He watched her, loving the sight of her chest as the collarbone broke out in a bright red rash, her entire face became red as a beet. Her chest rose and fell delightfully, her nipples rising to the occasion.

HOOOWWWLLLLLL!! Bessie yelped at the sound. 

"Oh god ... ohgodohgod." She could barely speak as she fought the orgasm. She didn't want it, not her brain, anyway. Her body, on the other hand, craved it and accepted it.

But he wouldn't let her come down just then. He released her clit, took her hips and swung them around so she was lying fully on her back lengthwise, her knees bent and the bottoms of her feet on the table. What he really wanted he had easy access to, being that her pussy rested just at the far end. 

Without warning, he slipped two fingers into her wet, swollen cunt before hooking the tips over her g-spot. She grasped at the edges hard again to keep herself from propelling to the ceiling, again whining and gasping for breath.

"Fuucknonono," she pleaded again, her head rocking back and forth, as if that would stop the sensations coursing through her.

"Yes!" he screamed back.

Still tapping her sensitive spot, he rested the pad of his thumb on her clit and manipulated it, back and forth, to and fro.

"Youcan't ... make ..."

Tap, tap ... rub, pat.

"Oh, yes I can, lass, and I WILL."

Penetrating her pussy, alternating between slow and easy to hard and fast, she tensed again. He knew she was close, so he continued until she cried out she was going to come again.

"Go on, then. Come NOW!"

She kicked her hips up and wiggled before she allowed the orgasm to arrive, and it did with the force of an atomic explosion. Her mouth was open as far as it could get, and her come-face was priceless, as far as he was concerned. Her pussy gushed with her juices, making Hamish groan from his own excitement at the power he had over her at that moment.

Whimpering like an idiot, she brought her hips back down and tried to catch her breath. He licked her, then cleaned her of her wetness. Straightening his arms over her belly, he encased her breasts with his huge hands, pinching her nipples lightly before gradually pressing harder. She moaned again and begged him to stop.

"Haven't you figured out that the more you beg me to stop ..." He flicked her clit twice, just for effect. "... the more I will not?" 

He tweaked her nipples simultaneously, making her sigh loudly. "Then stop doing what you're doing and ..." 

He shut her up when he both pinched and twisted her nipples. "Not bloody likely."

"Ghmphfffff."

With his forefingers, he circled the base of her nipple, round and round, though it didn't give him the desired effect he thought it would. She giggled in a fit of insanity. Trying to figure out what the hell was so funny, he removed his hands and looked at her oddly.

When she gained some sort of control of herself, again he lightly teased her nipples, and once more she burst into a severe case of the giggles. 

"I don't find anything remotely funny, Ms. Boyce," he said tersely, though he wasn't angry.

"I ... I'm sorry, Sir. I don't mean to laugh." She might have been able to get the words out, but she still giggled.

Sighing heavily, he played with her nipples again, and only then began to get slightly irritated. "Holy hell, woman! What the shyte is wrong with you?" 

"Don' know. I ... They're just sensitive." 

"Well, fuck," he grumbled as he stood by her side, a smile slowly crossing his lips. "You are quite strange, little fawn."

Helping her to sit up, he gently put his hands on her shoulders. "Please tell me you don't get the giggles when you make love."

Her wide smile still hadn't disappeared. "Um, no," she admitted. "Sorry, Sir."

Smiling back, he kissed her forehead. "No matter, little fawn. Maybe I'll find it humorous tomorrow." 

He then pressed his lips on each cheek, her nose, her chin, and with each touch she kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to, but she then found herself gazing into his eyes, and the look from him was so extremely touching that it frightened her terribly. 

"Why ... why are you looking at me like that?" she asked timidly, appalled at hearing the quivering in her voice.

Immediately he lost his smile because truthfully, he didn't really know. Sliding his hands to her elbows, he pulled back and pushed her hair away from her temples. "Let me help you down."

She nodded and put her hands on his forearms to push herself off but almost went down from her weak, wobbly legs. He caught her by putting a strong arm around her waist and pressed her against his body. Slowly he led her to the blanket in front of the fireplace and she sat down, leaning more on a hip rather than chance any pain from her beaten bottom. As she tested her bum's tenderness she was grateful it didn't hurt as badly as she feared.

Getting on one knee, he removed the restraints then put his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her warm, supple lips. "Stay as you are. You may lie down if you'd like. I'm just bringing in a few things. What would you like to drink?"

"Orange juice, Sir. Please."

He smiled warmly. "Alright. I'll be back in a tic."

Lying down on her side facing the fire, she watched as he stoked the log, turned, gave her a smile then left her to her thoughts. Her mind reeled. How could this man, this stranger, do such things to her? She had come surprisingly enough, and only when she could no longer stand to be touched at all did she have to stop. Why was she feeling like she was? 

"Bessie! Stay!" Hamish bellowed from the hallway.

Instead, the lab barged into the library and ran up to Gayle. "Hey, girl." She giggled as she petted the dog. "You don't want your daddy tying you up and spanking you, too," she said softly.

"When she misbehaves I simply don't give her any dog biscuits," Hamish replied as he walked in carrying a tray. "Sorry it took me so long."

Why are you apologizing? she wondered as she sat back up. 

Watching him place the tray on the blanket, he sat down beside her. She marveled at the antique-looking plate with ornate lid, curious as to what was underneath it. 

Taking the glass of milk, he handed it to her. When she looked at it oddly, he said, "You need your calcium."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 10



"Um, oookay," she replied and took it, questioning him no further.

He reached for his own, but it was stuffed with a canine tongue happily lapping at the dark liquid. "BESSIE! NO!" He quickly reached for his glass, though not before she'd taken one more shot. "Bloody dog!"

Gayle burst out laughing and took the dog's collar, pulling her away from whatever her owner would do to her. "I can only handle one of you alcoholic Scots at a time, girl." Looking at Hamish, she asked, "Does she need to go out?"

He shook his head. "She left me a prezzie in the hallway. That's why it took me so long."

"Ah. You're not still going to drink that, are you?" she asked incredulously.

He took a long sip. "Aye! A true Scot NEVER wastes a fine dram of whisky!" He laughed and took a sip.

Either she was more tired than she thought or his accent had suddenly gotten thicker than she was used to hearing. She simply laughed with him.

Placing his drink down, he lifted the plate lid and revealed a plate full of dark, milk and white chocolates of various sizes, some solid, some with nuts. "I got these at a confectionery shop in Cupar, by my office." 

She looked at the sweets as if they were snakes, her eyebrows furrowed. He felt like he'd been slapped with her hesitation and rejected. "Please don't tell me you are allergic to chocolate, as well?" Smiling, she shook her head. "No, I'm not. I'm just ... surprised."

He finally smiled. "Take one, please."

She took a dark, round one and bit into it, a thick strip of the cherry's juice dripped down her chin. Grinning wickedly, he reached forward and wiped it with his thumb then stuck it in his mouth, keeping his eyes glued onto hers as she put the remainder in her mouth. 

Looking at the fire, she whispered, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what, Gayle?" He took a piece and popped it into his mouth.

"Being so ... nice?"

"Wow! If I had known all it took was chocolates to make me nice, I would have given you some every day." He turned serious. "Because you took your punishment well."

"I was expecting far worse, honestly. By the eleventh or so it was starting to sting, but it didn't hurt too much. I was, um, was starting to like it."

He gave her a wickedly evil grin. "Yes, I could tell. When I follow through on a punishment, it's more about mind play, not actual pain. I could tell how rigid you were at first, but you loosened up soon enough. I'm not into giving actual pain. I am not a sadist, after all. But know that I will make exceptions when you really cock up." 

"Thank you. Think maybe we could get the punishment over with as soon as you come home? Or first thing in the morning? Or come home from work at lunch. At least I'll be able to eat on Fridays." She gave him a playful smile to let him know she was being cute.

He laughed. "Ah. My point is you DID think about it all day, and you knew what you did wrong."

"Well, yeah. Point taken."

She picked out a milk chocolate piece and bit into it, and when she realized it was caramel she pulled it away from her, leaving a string of the light tan sweet between her mouth and the piece. Giving her a crooked smile, he leaned forward and stole the remaining bite into his mouth, purposefully taking the tips of her fingers into his mouth, looking deeply into her eyes. She was under the assumption that after she'd come so hard she could no longer feel aroused. How wrong she was. 

Getting over it quickly, she exclaimed, "Hey! You've stolen my candy!" 

"Well, come get it," he replied, his tone laden with lust.

She narrowed her eyes at him but couldn't hide her smile. "Nah, you can have it," she said and took a sip of milk to wash it down.

"Oh, no," he said after she put the glass down. Moving in, he licked her bottom lip of caramel. "Hmm, and I thought your kisses were already sweet."

"Oh, god," she grunted as she chewed. "That was the worst line I have ever heard."

"Hmmm. Well, try this: Hey baby, wanna sit on my lap and we'll talk about the first thing that pops up!?" He wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously.

Shaking her head but chuckling, she replied, "And that actually worked?"

"Not for me but it worked like a charm for Jack, or so he swears. Or how's about: "Do you have any Scottish in you?" He stared at her waiting for a response.

She looked at him dumbly before she said, "I have no idea."

He grinned wickedly. "Would you like some?"

Then she burst out laughing. "I am sooo sorry I asked."

A yawn came out of nowhere, so she stretched out on her side facing the fire, her head in the crook of her arm. Looking down on her, he ran his fingernails over her shoulder down to her upper thigh. When she suddenly yawned he chuckled, made room between them and laid down beside her, taking her into his arms and resting his chin on the top of her head; he made sure he didn't press his hard-on against her backside. 

They lay there together for a few minutes in silence; neither one wanting to speak. The crackling of the fire along with the hypnotic flames lulled them into a peaceful sleep.

It was after midnight before Bessie's sneeze woke up Hamish, though Gayle didn't even stir. She was even more beautiful asleep then she was awake, if that were possible. Standing, thankful he'd lost his hard-on, he checked that the log was safely dying down then carefully picked her up and led her upstairs. Again, she didn't wake up. She only mumbled and cradled her head on his shoulder.

When he got to her door he glanced at his own, debating with himself for a few seconds whether he should put her in his own bed. He would have wanted nothing more than to wake up with her in his arms, but it wasn't time ... she wasn't ready. Still ...

"Well, ole' Bess, what do you think?" The canine walked into Gayle's room, as was the routine as far as her human friend was concerned. "Oh, sod off," he grumbled.



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 11



AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is longer than my others, done just because there was such a long wait for the previous chapter. Thanks for your comments and votes. They are really appreciated.

And thanks to my editor, Scooter!! 

*

SATURDAY, AUGUST 10th, 2013

"Gayle, get up NOW!" Hamish hollered for the third time from his bedroom as he dressed for the day. "You've still got to load the basket with food and--"

"Sir?! Why are you yelling at me?" Gayle asked as she walked into his bedroom carrying a tray with two cups of coffee, which she placed on the table in front of the couch. "I've been up for half an hour."

He was just reaching for his t-shirt on his bed when he turned to face her, pulling the t-shirt over his head. "I thought I heard you answer. Ah," he said when he saw the coffee. "Give a man a coffee and you win smartie points." He chuckled, grabbed a mug and took a sip.

"What do you want me to wear today, since you won't tell me where we're going?"

"I'll find you a t-shirt, and your jeans will be fine but sans your briefs. You won't need them." He went to his closet and came back with her notebook and Stephen King's 'It.' "It's officially Saturday."

She smiled, took them then took a much-needed sip. "Thanks, Sir. I never did thank you for giving me my picture back the other day. I need to get started on writing, and I have a week to catch up on it. May I start when we get back?"

"Of course. I have some work to do so that'll be fine."

"Um, I don't remember going to my bedroom last night. You didn't carry me, did you?"

"I did. You must have been quite knackered. You only muttered something when I covered you." He retrieved a t-shirt with 'THE WHO' on front which appeared to be thirty years old then handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said as she took it. "Are you going to want breakfast?"

"Maybe just some cereal and fruit. They're forecasting storms this afternoon so we'll eat lunch early so we're back in time. Let me see your hand."

She showed him her palm, which was still a little pink but no longer blistered. "It doesn't itch anymore. Maybe I landed in a little sprig of the nettles. My blood pressure is normal, too, nothing compared to yesterday after I finished cooking. I wasn't surprised it was so high, considering the ..."

"I'm glad to hear that. I'll let Jack know."

"Well, I'm going to take a bath. When do you want to leave?"

"Whenever you're ready."

------------------------------

"Yeah, her blood pressure is normal, she says, and her palm does look better."

Hamish was on the phone with Jack updating him on Gayle's condition while Gayle cleaned the dishes and put them away. She listened in carefully, why she didn't know. Yes, they were talking about her, but she hoped to hear something nice from her boss.

"Golf next weekend, mate, Sunday? I feel like kicking your ass again ... Sod off. I can't convince you it was skill and not luck ... Great, actually. Just waiting on Ms. Boyce to get her ass moving. We're going to ... ah, it's a surprise." 

Gayle had whipped her head around hoping to hear where they were going. Finally finishing the clean-up, she put the picnic basket on the table where Hamish was sitting. One side had the plates, silverware and cloth napkins, while the other side was for the food. She then pulled out the food in storage containers from the fridge and set them on the table.

WOOOOOFFF! Bessie barked, obviously smelling the chicken and thinking she'd get some.

"Nope, sorry, poochers. This is people food," she whispered. "I won't forget your nibbles."

Leaning forward while he listened to Jack, he opened the small one and popped a deviled egg in his mouth. Gayle looked at him disapprovingly as he chewed, not caring how disgusting it was. But then she couldn't help but grin. 

"No, no. It's all planned. She doesn't know about it yet, though." He licked his fingers, staring her down, daring her to say anything. "Thought I'd tell her the day before. She loves surprises." 

"Ew. I don't like surprises while watching you talk and chew at the same time," she whispered, but made sure he could hear her. She gave him a sly grin before she grabbed two water bottles.

A few minutes later the basket was neatly packed with the fried chicken, potato salad, eggs and biscuits, all her mother's recipes. She was excited but nervous about him eating it. Well, he'd eat it, she knew, but didn't know if he'd like it.

"Oh, yes. She is still quite mouthy and testing my patience waiting for her to finish packing." Giving her a dirty look, he grinned, his eyes playful. 

She gave him a quirky smile before she retrieved Bessie's food and her bowl then put them on the top. He was just finishing up the phone call when she locked the basket.

"Right. Sunday it is. Go ahead and have the flyers printed as is ... Will do. Laters." He put the phone in the front pocket of his jeans. "Are you quite ready now?" he huffed, all of his patience seemingly exhausted.

"Yes, with the packing. I just need to go upstairs to do something."

He sighed heavily and put the basket by the door. "You have five minutes."

"Well, it might take me ten," she told him, her cheeks flushed.

"You have seven."

"I'll need fifteen now. You can't rush a good clitty rub." That caught his attention, but before he could say anything she smiled before adding, "Only joking. One can't rush mother nature, boss."

"Bloody hell. That was more information than I needed."

Giving him a cutsy smile, she said, "Hey, it wasn't my fault. You wouldn't leave it alone. I'll be back before you know it."

Hamish sighed. He knew when he was beaten. "Ok, but be quick about it."

Finally, Hamish, Gayle and Bessie walked toward an SUV that she hadn't seen before. It was a Range Rover Vogue in metallic green, its paintwork glistening in the early morning sun. She wondered if a step ladder was included so she could climb on board.

She looked at Hamish and back to the luxury car again. "Do you know that this gas guzzler is responsible for destroying half the Amazon rain forest? I read an article about it that says it only does twenty miles to the gallon."

"Absolutely right, and that's downhill with a following wind. Now do you want to go out today or not?"

Gayle decided that discretion was the better part of valour and keeping her mouth firmly shut was the best way forward.

Once they were on the road, Gayle's nose was glued to the door window once again. They'd only been driving fifteen minutes and the scenery hardly changed at all from the green farm land.

"Ugh, more fields," she muttered.

WOOOOOOOFFF! Bessie gave her two cents worth as she went from window to window in the boot.

"Bessie knows where we're going. Look," Hamish said, pointing to a sign.

"I don't speak Doggish, Sir," she teased before she saw the sign.

'WELCOME TO TENTSMUIR FOREST'

"Forest? There are a few trees up ahead and it's a forest?!" she exclaimed.

He laughed. "You've seen nothing yet."

A few minutes later the road was engulfed with tall, thin trees lining most of the way with an occasional field with cattle and sheep beyond them.

"Okay," she noted, "There are more than two trees so I guess that's what y'all call a forest."

He tsk'd and shook his head. "Oh, ye of little faith."

"Yep."

And he was right. By the time they'd come to the parking lot the trees had definitely morphed into a full blown forest with a large man-made clearing filled with parking spaces. Dotted around the area were about a dozen picnic benches, about half of which were being used by couples and families.

Hamish parked next to an unoccupied table and killed the engine. As Gayle got out of the Rover, she exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, my god! I can hear the ocean!"

Hamish had just let Bessie out of the back door, and they met her on the other side. Giving her the leash, he said, "No. Sorry. It's just the wind blowing through the trees."

She instantly deflated, even though she could have sworn she smelled the salty waters. "Well, crap."

He chuckled then got out a light jacket and handed it to her. "Just in case you need it. We have a short, leisurely walk then we'll come back and eat your lovely grub in the picnic area."

She nodded and Bessie led them on the narrow path through the trees that became denser still, and with the arrival of the plush greenery, the reddish-purple marsh orchids and yellow Bird's-foot-trefoils, every care she had in the world was gone.

"Hey!" she said as she pointed to some berries set deeper among the trees. "Are those blueberries?!"

"Yes, though we call them sloes. We use them to make sloe gin via a recipe which is passed down through the generations, a tradition, if you will. They're harvested in October or November around the time of the first frost, mixed in a concoction of other secret ingredients in a demi-john and left until it's ready to drink three months later."

"Okay, I know gin is alcohol, but from blueberries?!"

"Oh, yes. Potent stuff, it is too. The local community has an annual tasting competition with a prize for the best."

"I don't like gin, I don't think."

"Have you ever tried it?"

She laughed. "Well, um, no. But Dad told me to try everything I don't normally eat at home while I'm here because I don't know when or if I'll be back."

"Good advice. I'll have you try some later."

"Oh, no. You just want to see me drunk."

"Damn. You're catching on fast, aren't you?" 

She suddenly took in a sharp, deep breath after smelling the salty waters of a beach again and realized it wasn't just the wind that sounded like an ocean. But she decided not to say anything, though she allowed herself to believe it was indeed a beach.

Further down the trail, Bessie suddenly lurched forward on her leash and started barking at the low sand dune that lay before them. A sign declaring:

'KINSHALDY BEACH'

"Well, would you look at this!" Hamish exclaimed with a sly grin. "It appears we've hit the end of the road! Whatever shall we do now?" he said sarcastically and too dramatically.

Gayle looked at him wide-mouthed and narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "You lied!" she cried out then laughed. "You had me thinking I was going insane or something."

"Oh, but you are, lass, after those damned giggles you had last night."

She smartly ignored his comment as they stepped over the dune to the sprawling, wide beach. There were a few thick tree branches scattered about, as if a storm had blown in and brought the trees out to play. About ten feet away were little pink crabs peeking their tiny, little eyes out looking for predators, aka a canine named Bessie, who pulled like a freight train to be free to chase after them.

"Alright, alright. You'd think you'd have learned your lesson that you'd never catch one." He detached the leash and she tore off, pouncing on the small holes and barking enthusiastically.

The movement from above and in front of them drew Gayle's attention to the birds, which were quite small white birds with black on the back of the head and a long, yellow duckbill. They were outnumbered by the seagulls, squawking loudly and flying gracefully.

As she looked out toward the waves, which appeared to be not too dangerous and definitely perfect for wave diving, she heard herself say, "Huh. Even the waves sound different here."

As they walked towards the shore there were more crab holes that she had to walk around, though she still stepped on more than she wanted to. She squealed a few times which made Hamish shake his head unbelievingly.

"Ms. Boyce, please explain to me how the hell any ocean can sound different crashing to the shore?"

"Oh, um, I didn't mean to say that out loud. Granny swore even the birds chirped differently on their travels. Grandad thought she was insane, too."

"So, it does run in the family," he teased.

"I would disagree with you but I have no valid argument. One rainy day the TV guide got wet -- they had staples in the middle back then. So she put it in the microwave and turned it on to dry it. Let's just say the sparks flew, literally." She chuckled and side-stepped squashing a little crab.

"She didn't!" he asked, aghast.

"I'm afraid so. THEN what does she do?! She puts in an odor eliminating candle."

"Lit?"

"Oh, yes. Burned a nice sized hole right in the middle."

"Jings! What did your grandfather do?" 

Bessie came running back to the pair with a stick in her mouth, her tail swishing crazily back and forth. Hamish took it and threw it to the water's edge, and Gayle was amazed the dog wasn't even afraid of the water.

She continued her story. "He banned Granny from buying a new one for two years." He laughed boisterously. "The thing is she purposely burned dinner or messed up his grits until he got so fed up it forced him to buy one."

They laughed for a moment. "So that's where you get your sassiness from?"

"Most definitely."

She didn't know why, but she appreciated that he was a good listener. It had been a while since she'd talked about her grandparents and doing so now was comforting. The main point was that it made her feel like he cared about her, not that she was just a maid.

When they got to the water's edge, Gayle looked up and down the beach, surprised there weren't tons of bathers lounging on beach chairs or even children screaming and laughing as they played in the water. There were many couples walking their dogs and a few families making sand castles, but that was it. Regardless, the sky was a beautiful blue with white puffy clouds, and the wind was pretty strong; she was relieved she'd put her hair back in a ponytail.

After Bessie brought the stick to her master several times, Hamish said, "Watch this." He threw the dog toy about ten feet into the ocean. She went in after it with no fear of drowning, took it in her mouth and came back out, shaking the water off of her.

"Ah! Bessie!" Gayle screamed to avoid the wet drops spraying the front of her t-shirt, but it didn't help.

"Oh, you wuss! You get a little wet and you ..." He suddenly clammed up when he saw her erect nipples poking through the wet material; although it wasn't completely drenched, it was wet enough to clearly define the obvious arousal, and his mouth went dry. Fuck, they're sticking out like chapel hat pegs was the accompanying thought.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"You need to take off that shirt, Ms. Boyce. You'll catch your death of cold."

"Haha," she chuffed, ignoring his order thinking he wasn't serious. "Hey, stay still, please, Sir."

Gayle put her hand on his forearm, bent at the waist and removed her sneakers before taking off the other. When she saw Hamish's hand out, she handed them to him. "Thanks."

Taking a few steps down the beach, he stopped her with his strong hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Boyce, I told you to take off your t-shirt," he said sternly.

Gasping, she put her hands firmly on her hips and shook her head. "Sir, I will take a million whoopings with the paddle, but I will NOT walk around here naked!"

He laughed. "Didn't you notice the sign on the board that this is a clothing optional beach?"

"No I didn't, but I'm not surprised at all you brought me to a nudie beach."

"Soooooo," he egged her on. "Why don't you give it a go?"

"Nope. My ass be damned, but no."

"Ms. Boyce, do you know when the next time you'll be here in Scotland? You may never have this chance again."

"For your information," she said, picking up Bessie's stick and throwing it away from the water and starting to walk again, "I have been at a nudie beach before and did go into the water. So it's really not a big deal. My titties hurt like hell from being knocked about so roughly by the waves."

"Oh, come on. The water is nice and warm."

"Then why aren't other people in it?"

"Well, shyte." He deflated, knowing he'd been sussed, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

A few minutes later his words kept going through her head. He was right: she knew she'd never be back to Scotland, much less back to the beach.

"Sir, I'll make a deal with you." She slowed her steps and looked at him bravely then took a deep breath. "If we see someone else with no clothes on then I will. Is that fair?"

"No, it's not. But I'll accept your condition."

"Oh, that is so kind of you," she teased. 

Bessie went chasing after a seagull that had landed a few feet away and had rapidly taken off again as the dog approached. Gayle yelled at the dog, but she kept on running. "Let her be. She'll never catch it."

For several minutes they walked in silence, seemingly both in their own thoughts. Hamish was thinking how peaceful and relaxing it was walking the dog after a hard week's work. He loved these quiet periods where he could unwind, and this time he appreciated the company.

Gayle was also remembering the times she'd walked the beach on their family vacations, the only time she really had to herself. Shortly after she'd broken up with her ex she wrote off men altogether, knowing there wasn't the perfect man out there for her. The other times she wracked her brain to find the meaning of life. She was never successful.

Bessie came running toward them with something in her mouth, but to Gayle it definitely wasn't a stick. It did move, but it wasn't a fish; it was too white. White and black ... "Oh, my god! She got a seagull!" Gayle screamed and ran toward her. "Give here, girl."

"I'll be damned! Good girl!" Hamish said proudly.

Gayle gave him a sharp look before Bessie realized she was outnumbered and dropped the bird. It flopped and squawked, jumping a few feet away. Bessie barked and went after it, but this time when Gayle hollered at her she obeyed. Hamish simply laughed.

"Sir! This is so not funny!" she chastised him as she bent over to get a closer look. "It doesn't look hurt."

"Don't get too close, lass. They carry tons of diseases and are vicious as hell," he warned.

"Oh," she said as she stood and watched the bird carefully. "And it's okay for your dog to kill one?"

"Watch it, Ms. Boyce. Labs are retrievers and it is their natural instinct to seek out game and birds ..."

"I know, I know. Sorry, Sir. Really. I'm more pissed at --"

She screamed in surprise when the seagull suddenly spread its wings and took off into the sky. "Oh, thank god." Looking down at Bessie, who was sitting on her hind legs and wagging her tail proudly, she told her, "You are getting no doggie treat when we get home."

Starting to walk again, Hamish bent down and patted Bessie's head. "No worries, pal. I'll give you one." 

"You spoil her," Gayle said, though she was no longer angry at the dog. "But hey, I guess I would too. She does keep me company."

They had been walking for about thirty minutes, and Gayle had been telling Hamish about the times her family had gone to the beach. Again, she felt as ease talking to him, but what she noticed was that he hadn't said anything about his family. She remembered his mother had died in childbirth, and he'd just had his father and brother. Being naturally curious she wanted to ask him about his family but she didn't dare. She was having too much fun.

As she talked, she'd been looking at him the whole time, so when she saw movement from the corner of her eye she turned to see what it was. A man and woman, both completely naked, were walking toward them as if there wasn't a damned thing wrong. Well, it wasn't wrong, but the fact that his flaccid penis was not only half way down to his knees but was as thick as her wrist was a shock to her. She thanked all her gods that Hamish wasn't hung like this proverbial horse. The woman's breasts were clearly fake -- she had never seen titties so hard and full that they hardly moved with each step. She was surprised the poor woman wasn't walking bow-legged after being shagged with that monster cock.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 11



She couldn't stop the image of having Hamish take her from behind while she had that stranger's cock in her mouth ... not that she'd ever have the opportunity, or really wanted to, either. Giggling, she shook her head at that horrible thought.

After they walked by, Hamish asked, "What are you giggling at? Didn't you know a man's cock comes in different shapes, sizes and colors?" he teased, digging his shoulder into hers.

"Sir, I will not justify that remark with an answer." Then she burst out laughing. "But damn! Can you imagine that poor woman when they have sex?!"

He joined in her revelry then stopped in his tracks. "Sir? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Now's your chance."

"What?! With that man?! I would never --" 

He laughed again. "You promised you'd undress if you saw another person naked."

"I was delusional. It doesn't count." She chuckled.

Still, the deep throaty tone of his voice let her know he wasn't kidding, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She stood stock still and just stared at him, stomach lurching. Realizing she was frozen to the spot, he took it upon himself to do it for her. Stepping toward her, leaving barely two inches between them, he gazed lustfully into her eyes then put his hands on the hem of the t-shirt and pulled it up and off. She squealed, lifted her hands to cover her breasts, but he pulled them to her side. 

Sighing heavily, trying to hide a sheepish grin, she quickly took off her jeans, looked around briefly then ran dead-on into the water, diving into an oncoming wave. Bessie barked and went in after her. 

Gayle had never felt water as cold as this, even in the mountains in the fall when the family went camping and they'd wash their hair in the stream. Her breath was completely taken away, and she swore her heart stopping beating altogether. Breaking the surface, she ran out faster than she had jumped in.

"AH!! HOLY FUUUU ... OH! MY! GOD!!" she screamed as she turned and headed toward Hamish, who was laughing hysterically. "What the hell are YOU laughing at?!" she bellowed while wrapping her arms around herself tightly and shivering violently. "Why did you make me go in the water?!" 

"Ms. Boyce!" he replied in between gasps of air. "I don't recall ... ever telling you ... to do that. In fact, I remember it was you who said she wanted to go paddling in every ocean. Here." He handed her her t-shirt. "I'm afraid I don't have a towel." Although he tried to stop laughing, he continued to chuckle.

With her teeth clattering, she put the shirt on then, stuttered, "If I catch pneumonia I'm going to come back and haunt your ass!" He offered her his jacket which she gratefully accepted, but it only just covered her bum and the top of her upper thighs. Neither garment, though, was enough to stop her uncontrolled shivering and chattering teeth. She squeezed the water out of her ponytail, huffing constantly.

"I'll leave some tea out for you in that case. Come on. I do have a blanket in the Rover."

Walking for a few more minutes, her legs were dry enough to put on her jeans, which she did, though her body was still numb. They head back to the picnic area and got the table they'd parked by and settled in to eat lunch, even though it was only 11:30. 

Hamish raved over the potato salad and had three pieces of the fried chicken. "I must say everything is delicious, Gayle. Thank you for feeding me."

Laughing, she said, "You're welcome. I wished I'd thought of dessert."

"No worries. As well as the chocolates I bought a strawberry cheesecake." 

"That sounds great." The few moments of silence they'd shared on the beach gave her time to think about what Hamish had said a few times. "Sir? You've mentioned more than once the pain/pleasure aspect of D/s. I've found it's ... it's not erotic in the least. I don't understand the whole concept of that."

"Well, you got ... excited when I was paddling you, correct?"

"Yes, but I have no freaking idea why."

"Was your mind focused more on the the pain or how it felt afterwards?"

"The pain, at first. But then ... it was like it went farther. Either my ass was just numb or ..." She chuckled. "I knew it was coming but yet ... Hell. I'm not even making any sense."

"Yes you are. You just don't realize it. The best way I can explain it is that you pushed yourself to allow the pain but it turned into something that you felt deeper inside you. Permitting yourself to feel that is good, great, actually. It's just the first step."

"Sir, that makes no more sense than what I said."

"It will. The fact that you were wet tells me you enjoyed it; it turned pleasurable. Gayle, I know you are young and new to being a submissive, but one aspect of D/s that I enjoy is seeing a woman grow, hearing what she discovers about herself that she had no concept even existed."

He leaned forward and tapped his forefinger on her forehead. "If I can get in here ..." He trailed his finger down her cheek, chin, neck then to her collarbone, "... then I can control this." She looked at him confused. "Your body, Gayle. If I get inside that pretty little head of yours then your body will follow." Leaning back, he asked, "Now, does that make sense?"

It did make some sense to her, but her body was something she was holding onto. Why? What exactly was she afraid of? That she would hate it? Like it? That she would want more?

A distant, low rumble echoed throughout the forest. Bessie stood up like a shot and danced around Hamish's feet nervously; her tail wagged feverishly. Gayle looked up through the branches and saw no more sunlight. Clouds were rolling in, some white and billowy, others dark and dangerous. She nervously twitched on the bench and looked around as if some hungry monster would come out and attack her.

Then she burst out laughing at her silliness. "Myths of ghosts and leprechauns here are giving me the willies. That was quick to spring up! I have to warn you I get hyper during thunderstorms."

His eyebrow rose curiously. "Then I shall have to tie you down to keep you from destroying my home. I'll then have my wicked way with you."

"Why do men have such one track minds? It's just boobage and sex." She had to laugh because she was enjoying their playful banter.

"And steak. You forgot steak."

"No whisky? The world must be ending!" She laughed and started to clean up. "And that was a lovely ending to a great day," she said sarcastically.

"The day is still young. Whatever shall we do for the rest of it?"

"You have work and I have about three hours writing in my diary. Maybe we could watch a movie tonight? Or play some board games? Do you have Scrabble?" 

"How boring! We could play in the dungeon. What do you say?"

"I say no. Can you help me carry the basket to the truck?"

"What do you mean truck! The Rover is a top end luxury vehicle, not a truck."

"Sorry, the gas guzzler, then."

"And Ms. Boyce, we have no leprechauns in Scotland. We kicked them all out during the time of King Arthur and banished them to Ireland."

"Oh, lord. Remind me not to ask you to read me a bedtime story."

Taking the basket, he put it in the back and told Bessie to jump aboard. Turning to Gayle, he said, "Speaking of which, I've not had my Spankers Weekly delivered from the newsagents yet. Are you holding onto that?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Ew. Of course not."

He opened the passenger door for Gayle. "Now would you get in so we can beat the rain?"

She smiled and got in, looking at him as he closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. Although she had a million more questions to ask about D/s, she decided there was plenty of time to discuss it as they went along. Besides, she was afraid it would scare her too much to even try other scenes.

Five minutes before they reached the house it was pouring buckets, though the lightning was still miles away . "Well, crap," she muttered as he pulled into the closest spot he could to the side door leading to the kitchen and cut the engine.

"We'll leave the basket here for now, since I finished it all." He chuckled. "On the count of three. One." They put their hands on the door handle. "Two." They both took a deep breath. "Three."

Gayle ran to the door and waited to go in while Hamish got Bessie out. All three were drenched when they stepped into the mud room. The dog shook off the water as the two humans wiped the rain off of themselves. 

"Go ahead and undress. We'll throw the clothes in the dryer," Hamish told her as he took off his t-shirt.

'Get undressed' was becoming a normal statement from him, but again she had gotten so used to it that she never thought twice anymore. 

"I'm going to need to wash these as they're full of salt water, and I need a bath. I've got sand in places where sand just shouldn't be allowed."

Hamish laughed as he took off his jeans and put them on the dryer. "That I can relate to, lass. Try having sand under your threeskin. Fucking sore it is too. And leave your clothes here. I'll do them while you bathe."

She laughed heartily at his comment. "Sir, I'd be more concerned about HAVING a penis than having sand in one. And you do laundry? Who would have thunk?" she teased.

He laughed as she removed his jacket, handed it to him then removed her t-shirt. Unbuttoning and slipping her jeans down, she noticed how pointy hard her nipples were. She had no idea nipples could get goose bumps as well.

"I'll get a fire going in my library while you write. Would you like that?"

She nodded and smiled. "I would. Thanks, Sir."

"As much as I would love to warm you up, go on upstairs. I'll make coffee for us."

While she sat in the hot, steamy tub, she realized she never thanked him for the day. And he was being so kind and fun. "Fun? I never saw anything fun in him when I first met him," she said to an empty room. "And why are you being so nice? What haven't you told me yet?"

She hadn't heard the knock on the door but definitely heard Hamish say, "I haven't told you about Guy Fawkes Day, and I won't." Looking down on her, she saw he was already dressed in his lounge pants and sweatshirt. "And unlike the rumors, I can be quite fun ... when I want to be. And I am just a nice guy."

She wanted to die from embarrassment and dunk her head under the water. "Don't I get any privacy at all?"

"Sure you do. But I wanted to know if you were in the mood for steak and tatties. I've got to take the meat out of the freezer."

"Oh. Yeah, that sounds good." They stared at the other for several awkward moments. "Um, is there anything else?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "No."

They continued to play the staring game. "Sir? I won't take long."

"Alright. But who's not fun now?"

"Ha. Ha. Sir? Is it okay if I wear my skirt and blouse? I'm still chilled."

"Of course. Anything else, your highness?"

"No, your highness-er. I'll be down in a few."

"Oh, I feel sooo much better," Gayle announced as she walked into Hamish's study. Bessie met her at the door and followed her to his desk.

He jumped and gave her a sharp look. "Woman! I could have been doing brain surgery!"

"Then you just killed your patient." She laughed, as did he. "I'll leave you alone." Turning to the fire, she was grateful he'd put one of his chairs in front of it but facing sideways so he could see her. "Lovely! Heat for a change!"

"Ms. Boyce, I can always send you to the dungeon You remember how cold it is down there." He was clearly teasing her based on his playful tone.

Sitting down, she replied, "'Nuf said, Sir. When do I get my allowance? I can buy anything I want, right?"

"Yes. But 50 pounds won't get you much."

"That's okay. I think, I'll get a nice, plush robe first then a camera to send Dad and Catelyn some pictures."

"Your afternoon off is next week, I think Wednesday's would be good." 

She nodded. "Sir, that would make two weeks allowance then, wouldn't it?"

"Not quite, but I won't split hairs over a couple of days. £100 it is."

"Thanks. I should be able to get both then."

"Gayle, I've been meaning to ask you something. Would you like me to teach you to drive tomorrow? That way you can go by yourself and Hodges won't have to take you."

She never even thought of having that much freedom. "Sure, but do you think you could drive first and explain everything? Your roundabouts scare me." She laughed. "And I hope you have lots of car insurance."

"Now I wouldn't have offered if I didn't. It's a date, then."

"What the heck is wrong with you?!" she wondered to herself. Stop being so damned nice! You're not the normal Hamish in your natural habitat. What are you after she wondered yet again?

Writing in her diary took longer than she expected. Her fingers were starting to hurt when she thankfully finished. She was so wrapped up in trying to remember the week that she hadn't remembered hearing a word from Hamish. Then she noticed Bessie sitting on her doggie bed beside her chair, all four legs jerking and kicking, her nose twitching like she was smelling something. 

Gayle laughed, bent over and rubbed her head. "Hey, girl. Are you having a dogmare?"

A bright bolt of lightning filled the room immediately followed by a loud, reverberating rumble of thunder. "How long has it been storming, Sir? I haven't heard a thing."

"It just started. Been raining heavily ever since we got home, though. And Bessie is dreaming about hot, naughty doggie sex with Scooby-Doo."

Gayle burst out laughing which woke Bessie right up. "That was good! Is that right?" she asked the dog. "Rut Roh?" She paused a second. "Rin Tin Tin? He is a much smarter choice. Sir, what time is it?"

"Almost five. Are you hungry yet?" he asked, stretching and yawning in his chair. 

"Not really. Are my clothes done yet?"

He nodded and approached her. "Folded and put in your room already."

"Damn. I didn't even hear you leave. Thank you. But if you left and I didn't even know ... You were looking over my shoulder while I was writing, weren't you?" she teased playfully.

"Que? Moi?" he asked innocently.

"Oui. Vous, senor." She laughed. "I just love mixing French with Spanish. In secondary school I took four months of French and three months of Spanish. I still get my numbers mixed up, as well."

"Well, try using neither. And of course I didn't sneak a peek. I might have been sneaking a peek at something else, though." 

"You did not!!"

"No, I didn't. Anyway, I was just about to finish my own book when my crayons ran out. Can I borrow yours?"

She laughed. "I only have purple left. And don't worry. I've found plenty of hiding places for my book. Hey, do you have any good movies we can watch before dinner?"

He offered her his hand and helped her up. "I just got 'Delilah Does Durham' that I've been dying to see."

"Sir? I meant a real movie," she snickered.

"Oh. I don't have any of those."

"Well, find one, please."

A few minutes later, Gayle was lying on the couch waiting for Hamish to put in the DVD, still having not a clue what the movie was. After he pressed play, he went to her. "Scoot."

"Oh, sorry. I thought you'd sit in your chair."

Sitting up, she sat at the end, looking at him confused because he laid down and stretched his legs, planting his feet firmly in her lap. "Well, don't just sit there. Come lie with me."

She hesitated a moment. "Sir, are you sure?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Fine, but you'll keep your hands to yourself, right?"

"Now that I can't promise you."

She narrowed her eyes at him before she laid down beside him, keeping as close to the edge as she could get. "Oh, no," he fussed, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, not removing his arm. "Now this is better. Are you comfortable?"

Truthfully she was very comfortable being cuddled, even though he was her boss. Once her head was cradled in the crook of his arm, her bum just above his crotch -- their bodies fitting together perfectly -- she moved her left hand up toward her shoulder but found his forearm. At first she jerked it away, but then a second later held onto it loosely. 

She liked the security he provided, especially with the constant thunder and flashes of lightning still raging outside. One thing surprised her, though: Her normal hyperness during thunderstorms was quelled being in his arms. She had no idea why, but she didn't care. It was nice. A little too nice. Her libido suddenly woke up and she fought to keep it away. 

"I guess so. Um, Sir?" she started, turned her head slightly and smiled warmly at him. "I've had a really great day today, well, minus the seagull fiasco. Thank you."

He gave her a quick kiss, though she regretted him pulling away. Her brain was on major relax mode, and she blamed that for the kiss. This particular kiss was the first time it felt different ... felt right and natural, and it felt nice.

He replied, "As did I. And for me, personally, the seagull was the highlight."

"Only a man would say that," she grinned.

"Who said I wasn't a man?!"

"Oh, those rumors. You know how those go."

He chuckled. "Hush. The movie is starting."

As they settled in, the background music came on, but she didn't recognize the movie. When the name Tom Cruise popped up, she exclaimed, "Oh! Cocktail! I haven't seen this in years!" But immediately afterwards came the name Kelly McGillis. "Wait. This isn't --"

"'Top Gun?' Yes, it is. Did you expect anything less from a macho he man like myself? I've also got 'Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines' and 'The Dambusters.' Greatest movie of all time that one! Would you prefer one of them?"

She chuckled. "No thanks, but Tom is an arrogant boob."

"Snap. But this was pre-arrogant boob. Now shut up."

Sighing heavily, she couldn't help but smile. But she hardly paid attention to the movie. Her body was beginning to feel something she hadn't felt before, even with her ex. Sure, she'd had sex with him but there was nothing as ... intense as she was feeling at the moment. He never cuddled. Hhe simply got up, showered and left. She realized she couldn't really miss what she never had, but it actually felt incredible cuddling with someone ... a warm body only, perhaps? No, it was more than that, and though she tried to deny it, she couldn't.

If she thought she needed relief when her clit was throbbing the day he sexually teased her until she had to masturbate, it was beginning to become just as bad, if not worse. Her breasts were tingling, her ass as well, oddly enough. She didn't know what the hell was going on. It felt like she was having an internal conflict between her head and her body, and in a normal world her head would win. 

But in this world, Hamishville, was it even possible she could be feeling something for him? Glancing at the clock, she figured the movie would be over by 6:30, and then she would decide if she would press the issue of having sex with him. Maybe she just needed some time to make up her mind. 

The next thing she knew Hamish whispered in her ear, "Lass, I'll give you two hours to stop doing that."

She turned her head and gave him a confused glare. "Doing what, Sir?"

"You've been caressing my arm for the past fifteen minutes. Are you trying to tell me something?"

"Not me." 

Not me, Hamish, but I guess my body is, she heard her body scream at her.

"Hmm. Who, then, pray tell?"

"Sorry, Sir. I didn't realize I was doing it." She pulled her hand under her chin, but she desperately wanted to keep the contact with him.

"I wasn't telling you that you had to stop."

He pressed his crotch against her, a little signal that she had affected him in such a profound way. She wanted to pull away but couldn't ... her body wouldn't allow her to.

"I think I'd better stop," she stuttered and looked away, as if that would take care of what she was feeling.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 11



He slid his hand to the other side of her waist and tugged slightly until she was on her back. Brushing her hair away from her temples, he gazed into her eyes as if they'd been lovers for years. She sighed and found the nerve to meet his own eyes and was sorry she did. If she thought she was in trouble before, she definitely was in trouble now. 

"Don't you think you should start dinner, Sir?" she asked, her voice quivering.

He laughed. "Oh, little fawn. You are most precious."

"Most precious?" she bellowed playfully. "I'm not a gemstone!"

With her left hand she pushed away from him, thinking she'd be able to sit up then stomp out of the room. But instead she ended up on the floor, flat on her back and looking up at a very amused Scot. 

"Ow," she mumbled then she burst out laughing. "That wasn't as graceful as I'd hoped it be."

He threw his head back and laughed as well, causing Bessie to come see what was going on with the crazy humans. Hamish stood at Gayle's feet and offered his hand, which she took. Pushing the skirt down, he told her, "I think I shall call you my graceful little fawn."

"Sir, after that I won't even argue with you."

"Come on. I'll get dinner started."

Dinner was a fairly quiet affair between the two. She explained to him how different Kinshaldy was to the beaches in North Carolina and was surprised the waters were as cold as they were. He explained a little the differences between driving in the U.K. and the U.S.

And soon enough both of their plates were empty, causing Gayle's anxiety to shoot up twenty fold. As she cleaned the dishes, Hamish sat at the table drinking a small glass of whisky, being that if what he hoped was going to happen he wanted his wits about him, not that a couple of nips would get him drunk.

When she put the last of the dishes away, he asked her, "So, Gayle. What shall we do now? Play Scrabble, in which I can guarantee you that I will win, or did you have something else in mind?"

He knew exactly what she was struggling with and for very good reason. She had in her mind that having sex again after her ex would be just as bad, but he thought he had proven himself that he wouldn't hurt her. Yet here she was, not able to bring herself to ask for what she wants, desires, needs. But as he promised, it would be her decision, and he would not press the issue with her. But he never said there was anything wrong with giving her a little push. 

Hanging the dish towel over the handle of the stove, she turned and put her hands on the counter then took a deep breath. "Sir? Would you, um, want some company tonight?"

"Unless you are planning on going somewhere, you already have my company.

"No. I, um, would you ... want to ... take me?"

He frowned. "Take you where? All the shops are closed at this hour."

She sighed. "I meant do you want me to spend the night with you, you know, to keep you company," she repeated. She was clearly getting flustered that he wasn't taking the hint.

"I've got Bessie, but thanks for asking." A sly grin slowly etched his lips as he went to her and stood beside her.

"No! I mean --" 

"I know what you mean, Gayle," he whispered.

He suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist, he put his hand gently on her face then pulled her to him, crushing her breasts firmly against his chest. The look of shock on her face was priceless, but he could also see the look of lust in her eyes and feel the heat of her excitement.

Putting his finger under her chin and tilting it up so she had to look him in his face, she growled, "Say it, Ms. Boyce."

She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you'd want to have sex." Her cheeks blushed a dark crimson.

"Oh, no. I don't have sex, Ms. Boyce."

She furrowed her eyebrows, getting pissed off at him for playing this game at the worst possible time. Forcing herself free of his hold she blurted, "Look! You know this is hard for me! Stop being such a dolt!" She instantly covered her mouth, her eyes wide. "I didn't mean to say that! I'm sorry!"

He looked at her with mock anger, but only for a split second. Taking her hand, he said, "As I said, I don't have sex. I make love."

Gayle practically tripped over her feet as he led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. Her heart was pounding, as per usual. Her mind was reeling that this was finally happening, but she didn't turn back or stop him. 

Walking through the door, Hamish turned around, never let go of her hand and led her to the bed, where he leaned against it and gently drew her to him, leaving a small space between them. She stepped between his feet and put her hands behind her. He smiled, took her hands and held her fingers, gently rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

He asked softly, "Gayle, is this what you want?"

She nodded and forced herself to breath. "Sir? May I ask that you use no blindfold, no restraints, and just ... not yet."

He put his forefinger over her lips to silence her. "Lass, you've nothing to worry about. I will be gentle with you. You haven't told me much, and that was my fault. I should have quizzed you harder, but if I do anything that you aren't comfortable with, tell me. I will stop immediately. I do not wish to hurt you, Gayle."

She looked at him like they were only words, and that he didn't mean a word he was saying. "I'm sorry. I'm just ... scared."

"Is that why you're shaking?" 

She shrugged her shoulders, and he sighed heavily, but a smile slowly crept over his lips. "May I undress you?" 

"I think I need to let Bessie out first."

"Oh, no. I've got you in my bedroom, and I will not let you go so easily. She'll be sleeping by the fire in my library for hours. Now, yes or no on the undressing part?"

"I'm used to doing it myself," she replied lightheartedly.

"Then it will be my honor."

With their eyes locked, he slowly unbuttoned her blouse to the bottom, leaving the material open just enough to see the inside curves of her breasts. He smirked when he saw her lower neck and collarbone flush into a bright red rash; the apples of her cheeks were a beautiful rosy pink. Slipping his thumbs between the blouse and her skin, he traced his fingernails back up to the collar and slowly pulled it off of her shoulders, laying it on the mattress.

She took in a sharp breath from the expression on his face. No one had looked at her like that before in such a compromising moment, not even Hamish. She felt vulnerable, exposed, and ... wanted.

Without a word, he pulled her skirt down from the bottom hem and laid it on top of the blouse, never taking his eyes off of her. He smiled warmly and pulled her into his arms, pushing her head against his collarbone before putting his arms around her; his rested in the small of her back.

At first she resisted his touch and the warmth of his body. But soon enough she found herself melting against him, her mind relaxed, and the tingling in her crotch growing. She sighed heavily and welcomed his embrace.

"How are you doing, little fawn?"

She chuckled softly. "I'm good, Sir. This is nice."

"Ah. In that case ..."

He placed his hands firmly on her ass, he picked her up, twirled her to the bed and set her down. She squealed with surprise but laughed. In her best Donkey voice from 'Shrek,' she said, "That was fun. Let's do that again!"

He shook his head but smiled. "Scootch over." 

When she did, he nonchalantly took off his sweatshirt and lounge pants, leaving on his boxer-briefs. Pulling down the duvet and bed sheets, he jumped onto the bed then under the covers and told her to do the same. Leaving the sheet just above her breasts, she lay on her side with her head in her hand and watched him as he, too, settled on his side facing her.

"Now, was that so bad?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "We've not done anything yet."

He bust out laughing. "I love your sense of humor."

She smiled sweetly, though the nerves were starting to get the better of her. Looking over his face, she noticed for the first time a scar under his ginger-colored beard on the left side of his chin. Tentatively reaching out, she rubbed the spot with her thumb.

"Where did you get this from, Sir?"

"Oh. I got in a fight with a guy over a girl."

"And you lost," she replied matter of factly.

"No. I always win. You should have seen the other guy!" He laughed.

Shaking her head, she suddenly realized she hadn't removed her hand from his chin, but she didn't pull her hand away. She simply continued to caress his chin. "Your beard is so soft."

"I moisturize twice a day," he chortled. 

Losing her smile, she used the rest of her fingers and cupped his chin with her palm, using her fingertips to brush them over his mustache to the tops of his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. Sliding her hand to his right cheek, her thumb over his ear, she slowly yet barely massaged until it slipped down to the crook of his neck to his collarbone. 

He closed his eyes briefly and smiled softly, making her stop and look at him oddly. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, to be honest. This is just ... nice. I've never really ... ugh," she moaned and rolled over on her back.

"Gayle, don't think."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're thinking too much. If you want to touch me I won't burst into flames." 

She turned her head and looked at him. "You might not, but I might."

He chuckled. "I can assure you that you won't. Love, I get the impression you've not had really explored your sexuality, much less another man's."

That comment took her breath. He was right. "Sir, having sex was mechanical, and I sure as shit didn't enjoy it. It was like I was nothing but a sack of potatoes and just waited for him to finish. The fact that you can ... get me going shocks me." 

He took her hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. "Just toss all of your worries. I'm here for you, sweetie. This is your time to get over this wall you've put up around yourself. Nothing will happen unless you want it to."

Tears welled in her eyes and fell when she closed them. "Hey, hey. None of that, either." He wiped her tears away with the back of his fingers. "Look at me, Gayle." When she did, he said, "Let's just cuddle. No expectations. If we do nothing more than fall to sleep in each other's arms, I'll be quite happy with that."

She finally smiled. "Thank you for understanding."

"Now come here."

Rolling back on her side, she let him wrap his arms around her and nestled her head in the crook of his arm. He intertwined his leg with hers but then noticed her hands still clinging close to her neck. Taking her left hand, he flung it over his shoulder, and she kept it there. 

To her it's what sealed their bond, not the fact that her breasts were flat against his chest. She swore she could feel his heart pounding. Taking one deep, calm breath, she whispered, "I can't believe you're so hot."

"I wouldn't say hot, more like handsome."

She threw her head back, her mouth agape. "I didn't mean hot as in ..." He laughed heartily. "You know what I meant!" She finally laughed back then she settled against him. 

A few minutes later, she tilted her head back, and he met her gaze. "Would you kiss me, Sir?"

"Hamish."

"No," she grinned. "I'm Gayle. You're Ham --"

She was silenced when he pressed his lips against hers, and she definitely lost her breath. Running his hand down her shoulder to her elbow, he licked her bottom lip. Opening her mouth, she flicked her own tongue to his before licking his upper lip. Growling, he dove his tongue into her mouth and their tongues danced in unison. 

Every trepidation Gayle had instantly vanished. Her hand roamed over Hamish's chest, twisting the tips of her fingers with his sparse chest hair. His cock twitched against her thigh, which made her kiss him harder and more passionately. He threw his arm over her waist to the small of her back, pushing her closer to him, though it was hardly necessary; their bodies were as close as they ever would be.

Bringing her foot up higher over his thigh, opening herself up to him, his erect penis slid in the crevice but didn't enter her. He could feel her wetness, and he wanted nothing more than to be inside her, but it wasn't his decision. It was hers.

For the next several minutes, their hands explored the others gently and lovingly, their lips never parting, both softly moaning and groaning in the back of their throats. If she thought his body put off a lot of heat, the sweltering heat building between them was threefold.

Breathless, she pulled her head back and whispered, "Hamish, I need you. Please."

He kissed her forehead. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yesss," she purred.

"Say it," he cooed.

"Fuck! Stop playing that stupid --"

Her words caught in her throat when he grabbed her upper thigh, his hand grasping almost all of it and lifted it wide. At that particular angle, his cock was poking through the fly of the briefs, and he teased her pussy with the tip of it.

"What do you want?" he asked again.

"I want you to ... fuck me. Please. Please?"

No longer teasing her, he pushed her onto her back and swiftly removed his briefs, haphazardly throwing them to the floor. Then he got between her knees, lifted then parted her legs. Purely on raw instinct she promptly wrapped her legs around his waist and stretched her arms over her head.

Rubbing the tip and shaft of his dick up and down from her clit to her opening, he bent down and kissed her again before kissing down her neck to her collarbone, occasionally nibbling with his lips or making little circles with his tongue.

She moaned softly and tilted her head back biting her bottom lip. He had made her wet before but nothing like she was now. She was ready for him -- oh, so ready.

"Sir, now. Please! But slow," she added, a sudden sense of fear cautioning her not to be too eager.

"Relax, lass," he whispered as he rested his hands just under her armpits.

Testing her acceptance of his now swollen and throbbing cock, he inserted just the head a few times gauging her reactions. Her face contorted but it wasn't in pain, he didn't think, or at least he hoped. 

"Gayle, are you ready for more?"

Yes Sir." she mumbled

"Louder. I want to hear you."

"Yes sir." she said louder than before.

"Louder."

"Yes Sir. Fuck me!" she screamed.

Gayle's loud shout, however, awakened the protective instincts in her canine friend, and unbeknown to either of them Bessie padded quietly up the stairs and poked her head around the open bedroom door to check on her. Seeing she wasn't being murdered or being attacked by intruders, she settled on the rug at the bottom of the bed and assumed guard duty ... just in case.

"Don't come until I give you permission. Do you understand?"

She nodded emphatically, keeping her eyes glued onto his. She didn't want to close them for fear of imagining it was her ex and not Hamish making love to her. But she also wanted to close her eyes to experience just exactly how good he felt inside of her.

"Yes Sir." 

Taking a deep breath, he pushed in a little more with each thrust, giving her a moment to adjust to his size before pulling almost out then going in a tad deeper each time. Her moans excited him; the slight lift of the corners of her lips told him what he needed to know: that he was doing everything right and was being gentle with her.

Her breathing now shallow, he was almost fully inside when she closed her eyes and her body seemed to collapse into the mattress. Her tight pussy walls undulated against his shaft, reaching out and caressing every inch of his manhood. With her continuous steady, soft whining he knew she was ready. 

Pulling almost out, he slowly entered her again, inch by inch, until he was fully inside of her. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her moist, hot cunt surrounding his cock as he slowly penetrated her gently but growing with each thrust. 

Her chest rose and fell as she began to pant, her toes curled, and the heels of her feet dug into his ass cheeks.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his own breathing becoming heavy.

"Hmmm. Yes. Yessss Sirrrr," she whined louder.

She never imagined anyone would be able to make her feel such heat and passion, much less this demanding, tough, sweet and gentle boss of hers.

He continued to fuck her -- all the way in before pulling out then going halfway in then to her very core. He circled his hips a few times which elicited a yelp of ecstasy from her. She could no longer control her breathing as she came closer and closer to the edge. She began to pant harder and harder, her loud whines filling the room.

"Hmmph, please let me ... come. Oh, please...oh fuck. Please!" Tears filled her eyes as she lost herself as every pulsing nerve ending sent waves of electricity from her cunt to her toes then back again.

Hamish's own breathing was fast and heavy, and he groaned from the back of his throat when she tightened her PC muscles tighter around his cock. He was as close as she was, but he thrived on her screams and the power he held over her.

"No," he gasped. "Hold it!"

In one swift movement he flipped her over onto her knees. "No. No! Not ..."

"Shh, little fawn," he cooed.

Bracing herself on her elbows, he took a firm hold of her hips and entered her with ease. He fucked her slowly at first until soon enough he pounded into her harder, their moans and groans seemed to be in sync, and that only spurred him on.

"I ... I can't. I can't. Hold it. Please." Her nails dug into her palms and closed her eyes tightly, doing whatever she could to hold back her release. "Oh, fuck! Please!" she begged.

He felt her pussy walls begin to spasm and massage his cock. "Fuck. Fuck. Yes. Ohhh, yes ... yes!" he grunted between thrusts as the vinegar stroke rapidly approached. "Hold onto to my cock! Don't. Let. Go."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

HOOOOWWWLLLLLL bellowed Gayle's new bestest canine friend, Bessie, from the floor at the bottom of the bed.

Breathlessly, Gayle whined loudly, "Then. Don't. Stop. Hmmmm, yes!"

"YYEEESSSSSSSSSSSS!"

HOOWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"I. Wasn't. Going to," he replied. 

With every word he rammed his cock deeper and deeper inside her. Her upper body shook as her orgasm built and built, her lower torso completely stiff from the desperately needed release.

"PLEEAAASSSSSSSEEEEE!" she whined at the top of her lungs.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he screamed back.

HOWWWWWLLLLLLL

Giggling, Gayle screamed to her now non favourite canine, "Bessie, will you PLEASSSEEE shut the fuck up!"

For whatever reason, at that moment Hamish gave one long, guttural growl which warned her he was about to come. "Come! NOWWWWW!" he bellowed.

HOWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL Bessie called to the ceiling as if baying to the moon.

Hearing both their inhuman growls, and with his permission, Gayle was sent into a blissful heaven a split second later. "Oh, god! Ohgodohgodohgod!!!"

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head before she tilted it back, her mouth gaping open. He then came hard inside of her, groaning and grunting at his release before pressing his chest against her back. 

"Yes. Yes! Ohhh Gayle," he cooed then pumped twice before holding still.

He held onto her waist harder as her body shook and spasmed as she rode the wave of her climax, having no control over her body to stop it. His chest rose and fell as his breathing was ragged from his much needed orgasm and they both continued to groan together with their simultaneous climax. 

"Ssssiirrrr," she mumbled, suddenly finding tears pouring from her eyes.

HOOWLLLLLLLLLLLL

Ignoring Bessie, he laid down beside her as she collapsed on her stomach, her face looking away from him. Running his fingers down her back, he said, "Look at me."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 11



When she did, he kissed her lips passionately yet slowly, both still breathing heavily into the others' mouths. She reached up with her left hand while she turned a little on her side then wrapped her hand behind his neck.

Wiping the damp hair away from her forehead, he wiped the tears with his thumb. "Why are you crying?"

Taking shorter, deeper breaths to slow her rapidly beating heart, she replied, "I honestly don't know."

"Was I that bad?" he asked.

Her eyes flew open and she looked at him apologetically, until she saw the playfulness in his eyes. "Yes, you were truly ... awful."

He chuckled. "That, my dear, is sooo going to cost you! Cuddle."

Smiling, she threw her leg over his thigh, put her arm over his stomach and laid her head in the crook of his arm.

"Again, nice try. Hold my cock too."

She looked at him sharply. "H uh?"

He took her left hand and pulled it down to his cock. "Hold onto my cock and do not let go."

"Oh." A moment later, she commented, "I thought you said Bessie would be downstairs for hours. It's only been what, three minutes?" she teased. He promptly smacked her ass. "Ow! That was so unfair!"

"No, it was not. And it must have been the fact we were doing it doggy style that set her off."

She groaned. "I highly doubt that, but it was kinda funny though, Bessie howling in time to our screams." 

They lay together for several minutes before their breathing became slower and more relaxed. A sneeze then came from the foot of the bed accompanied by a gentle fart.

They both started laughing, looked at each other and in perfect unison said, "That BLOODY dog!"



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 12



 AUTHOR'S NOTE: Take a look at my profile pic for Hamish. Yes, he's the Scotts Fertilizer guy. I just love his accent. 

Thanks to my (new) editor, JonB1969! I was lucky to find him so quickly. 

Y'all might notice a little change in Hamish, but I hope it's not too extreme or that I'm not showing his softness too quickly. Any American who fully understands a Scot should be awarded a medal or something! :-) Apparently I was hit on by one when I was in Perth and didn't even know it! (Smacks palm on forehead). 

We last left off with Hamish and Gayle just having made love after a great day at the beach.

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

 Sunday, August 11th, 2013; Early morning 

Gayle woke up sometime in the middle of the night, not sure exactly where she was. Her head rested on something hard yet warm which, oddly enough, rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Directly above her came a soft purring, which she quickly figured out was a manly snore.

With her eyes closed, she could see the room was brightly lit, and it was a moment before she braved opening her eyes. Sure enough, she was snuggled up with Hamish who was indeed fast asleep and both lamps were on.

The clock on the nightstand beyond him read 12:17. She had slept just over two hours, but it might as well have been fifteen minutes for how exhausted she felt. She was also happily content.

Her bladder then screamed at her, and as she sat up she groaned but quickly panicked, afraid she'd woken him up. But looking over at his face, she was relieved to see him turn his head, snore loudly but stayed asleep. 

What surprised her was how cute he was -- she would have used sexy, or handsome or something more manly. Seeing him now, she wouldn't have said, "I'm never gonna enjoy having sex with him" like she had when she first met him. But now ... he was definitely growing on her.

Carefully slipping down from the high-set mattress, Bessie had come from the foot of the bed and met her, wagging her tail. "Shh," Gayle whispered.

Like a shadow, she followed her human buddy to the bathroom in the hall. Gayle kept the hall light off so as not to wake Hamish, and sat on the toilet longer than she needed to. Her face in her hands, she thought about what happened between the two of them just hours earlier ... and she couldn't think of a single bad thing to complain about.

Not just last night, but all the times he'd touched her he was sweet, affectionate and gentle, and most definitely was the first to give her a real orgasm. Her face suddenly felt flushed from the memory of her begging him to allow her to come, and when she did it was like a wall came down. Not between them, but from herself.

Quietly stepping back into the bedroom, she turned the lamp off on one nightstand before she went to the other. Her hand on the switch, she heard a groggy, deep voice ask, "What are you doing?"

When she looked at him, he was smiling in a way he hadn't smiled at her before. It was as if he, too, was just as content as she was.

"Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to wake you. I'm turning the lights off so you can sleep. I'll leave it on." She then turned and walked towards the door.

He sat up rubbing his eyes. "And where do you think you are going?"

"I'm going to my bed. Good night."

"Oh, no, you're not." He got out of bed, not even hiding his half-wood as he stepped to her. "Lass, you will not be sleeping in your bed tonight. You will be staying with me."

Her eyebrows furled, and she ran her fingers through her hair. "I just thought ..."

"You thought wrong. Now hop back into bed. I'll join you in a tick." Giving her a soft smile, he headed to his bathroom. 

Not really sure what prompted his desire to have her spend the night, she wouldn't waste the chance of sleeping in a Cadillac of beds, and a warmer one at that.

Lying on her side close to the edge, she settled back down and took a deep breath to force herself to get back to sleep. A moment later the second lamp went off, and the bed shook as he got under the covers beside her, threw his arm over her waist and pulled her to him. For the first time she realized what a perfect fit their bodies fit together, almost like a puzzle piece.

But that thought quickly went out of her head when he started nibbling the base of her neck to her earlobe. Shivers coursed through her as his beard tickled her skin, but it shocked her nonetheless. How he could wake up her body was beyond her, but at the moment all she wanted was to go to sleep.

"Sir, you can have me all day tomorrow if you want, but I'm really pooped. It's been a long day."

It took a second for her pleas to reach his ears, as he'd been busy kissing her shoulder and the crook of her neck. Pulling back, he grumbled, "You're no fun."

"I promise I'll be more fun later." Reaching her left hand up, she dipped her fingers into his soft, short hair and smiled. "Thanks for ... earlier. It was nice, perfect."

"Nice?  Nice ?! I'll have you know --"

Flipping over to face him, she gave him a quick soft kiss that shut him up. Smiling coyly, she said, "It was smart of you to get me the chastity belt."

His eyebrows rose curiously. "And how is that?"

"Now that I know what I've been missing, I might be more tempted to, um, play with myself."

She hated to admit it, but it was the truth. Although her body was somewhat numb from the intense orgasm she had, her mind was elsewhere. She didn't want to admit that he'd awoken something in her. But at least she'd taken the first step in being open and honest with him about how she was feeling. 

"Ah," he replied, skirting his hand down her waist to her hip; goose bumps trailing behind. "So you want me again, eh?"

Her eyes flew open, blushing wildly. "I didn't say that!" Laughing, she said, "Well, I could." 

"As much as I would love to ravish you, there's no need to rush." Slipping his hand between them, he cupped her breast but didn't let go. "However, I could always make you change your mind."

She laughed and closed her eyes. "Good night, Sir."

Smiling, he removed his hand, kissed the tip of her nose and cuddled closer with her; she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Is this nice?" he asked sarcastically, but she could clearly hear the smile on his lips.

Hamish laid there thinking about the past few hours. He was surprised how good she felt in his arms; how perfectly their bodies fit together; how quickly she warmed up to his touch and pleaded with him to her come. She was much more passionate than he expected her to be, especially given her sexual background. In those few moments she accepted and trusted him.

Jack's words of warning came flooding back to him as well. He was indeed in over his head, but he didn't care. He was content with Gayle. He was happy with everything about the woman. She was absolutely more than he could have imagined, and he knew at that moment that he would have to watch his step with her. He wasn't about to take the chance of messing things up between them. 

At that moment he vowed to make her six months in Scotland -- with him -- to be a time in her life that she would never regret and would often look back on fondly. 

 Later that morning ... 

Gayle woke up lying on her stomach with her arms stretched up over her head and something sharp scraped up and down between her shoulder blades to the small of her back. She was facing the nightstand and almost jumped out of bed when she saw it was past 9:30. But when she felt the warmth of his palm, she relaxed for a second.

Moaning softly, she turned her head and mumbled, "Mornin,' Sir."

"Good morning, my little fawn."

"Do you wan' me to make some coffee?"

"I would, please. And can you bring the post?" 

Sitting up, she replied, "Sure. I'll let Bessie out too."

Fifteen minutes later, Gayle walked into Hamish's bedroom carrying a tray and set it at the foot of the bed. She handed him his coffee mug then laid the post beside him. Getting on the bed carefully so as not to spill her coffee, she said, "We didn't have the cheesecake last night. I only brought one slice. I was thinking we could share."

"Well, it does have fruit in it, and fruit can be brekkie. Give me a taste."

Pulling the tray closer to her, she got a small bite at the end of the fork and bravely brought it to his lips. He grinned wickedly and stuck out his tongue, flicking it not even close to the fork, which set her off in a fit of giggles.

"Stop it! I don't want to drop any."

"Alright," he said, but he did the exact same thing again when she brought it closer.

"Hey! I have no problem eating the whole piece by myself."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Narrowing her eyes at him, she put the fork on the top of her tongue slowly, wrapped her lips around it even slower then pulled the fork out, chewing the delicious piece. He raised an eyebrow curiously, and in the blink of an eye smashed his lips against hers, forced her mouth open with his tongue and kissed her hard and passionately. She was able to swallow without choking on the dessert.

At first she wanted to push his tongue out, considering it was disgusting that he was actually trying to get the cake from her mouth. But his soft, warm lips felt so good on hers that she returned his kiss and closed her eyes, blissfully lost in his kiss.

The next thing she knew he'd pulled away, and she moaned her displeasure. 

"How was that?" 

Her mind blank, she replied, "The cheesecake was excellent." 

"I meant the kiss."

"I know. I was just being cheeky, as you say. I'll go take a bath. Are you still going to take me driving?"

He put the mug between his knees and opened up the newspaper. "Not after you were being all cheeky. I think I shall stay in bed all day and read," he said overly dramatic. "I've got some books to catch up on as well."

She pouted her bottom lip exaggeratedly, slipped off of the bed and headed for the door. "Okay. I'll call you after I've burnt your eggs and toast."

"You do that. And when we're done, I'll take you to the dungeon and teach you a lesson so you'll never burn my food again."

Turning around sharply, she grinned playfully. "Damn it! You never let me win, Sir."

"Nope," he chuckled. "Never."

After they ate breakfast and she cleaned up the dishes, they were finally on the road. Hamish was behind the wheel of his Mercedes, driving them to Cupar, since that's where Gayle would do most of her personal shopping. He gave her pointers to the different signs and what they meant; at a stop light, when it flashes yellow it means to proceed slowly as opposed to green; and the massive and intimidating three-lane roundabout. 

"Now, one thing I noticed the few times I drove in the States is that I tended to hug the center lane, not the shoulder as you do here, mainly on two-lane roads. So I suggest you pay attention and stay a bit more to the shoulder on the left."

They had just passed a sign that read:

'WELCOME TO ROYAL AIR FORCE LEUCHARS' 

There was a small building for checking in visitors, just as the Little Creek Naval base in Virginia Beach, Virginia. Beyond that was a jet standing proudly.

"Sir?! Is that the base you mentioned when we were at the lake? Where the jets came from?"

"That it is. It was constructed in 1911 after setting up a training camp in Tentsmuir Forest. At the end of the second World War it was used mainly for anti-submarine and anti-shipping strikes."

"Huh. Cool."

Passing more large farms, fields and pastures, she decided to keep quiet and not complain about the ever-ending scenery and simply take in as much as she could.

Several miles down the road, he explained, "You'll need to pay attention when you enter a roundabout," he said just as they approached it.

It was a small three-way intersection, but instead of taking the right as she did at home, he checked for oncoming traffic to the right then went left.

"Well, that was simple, unless there are a bunch of cars coming at me," she laughed.

They then passed several industrial parks and residential areas before he announced, "And here we are. I'll take you to a car park where you can park and walk. Remember, you have the GPS built in the car, but I'll program it so you don't end up in Ireland." He chuckled.

"Ha. Ha."

After he parked he didn't turn off the engine. "Okay," he said, turned on the GPS and typed in his home address. "Take us home, Jeeves."

Gayle sat dumbfound in the passenger seat as Hamish got out, walked around the car and stood at her door waiting for her. When she looked at him stupidly, he opened the door. "Lass, you have to be behind the wheel to drive."

"Sir? You're going to have  me  drive home?"

"Yes. I want to make sure you don't wreck my treasured car."

"You can't be serious!"

"Very."

"But ... But don't I need an international driver's license or something?"

"No, you do not. Now hurry up because this is a metered park, and I don't feel like spending the night in the penitentiary."

Despite her complaining, moaning and groaning, she found herself behind the wheel.

"Now, just take your time and check out the dash. Pull out when you're ready."

Ten minutes later she pulled out of the car park and made it onto the main street. Her hands were so tight around the steering wheel her knuckles had turned white. But within minutes she was relaxed and driving very safely.

"So, you had nothing to worry about, Ms. Boyce."

"Ha! We're not home yet, Sir."

"True. But you're doing very well."

By the time they reached the driveway to his castle, she was completely over her fear. "Oh, my god! I can't believe I didn't hit anything!" She laughed, parked then turned the engine off.

"Well done, Gayle! Now, let's go straighten up my library from last night. You left it quite a mess."

While Hamish let Bessie outside, Gayle waited for him in his library. She looked over his books and found one about haunted Scotland. She took it off the shelf and skimmed through it when Hamish sauntered into the room and stood beside her.

"Of course you would choose  that  one," he said sarcastically but playfully. "Of all the classic books in my collection, you've chosen one of ghosts?"

"At least it's shorter than King's 'It,'" she said as she put the book back on the shelf.

"No, you may read it if you wish. But you must read this first."

He went to another wall, took a moment to look them over and pulled one out, handing it to her. Reading the title, she grumbled, "'Poems, Chiefly in Scottish Dialect, by Robert Burns.'" She opened it to page 85 and read aloud.

"'Adown the glittering ftream they featly danc'd; Bright to the moon their various dreffef glanc'd ...'"

"No, no," Hamish interrupted. "The 'f' is an 's.'"

"Oh," she replied, feeling like an uneducated idiot.

"'They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so neat, The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet: While arts of Minstrelfy among them rung, And foul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung.'"

Looking at Hamish, she chuckled. "Okay, so, people are dancing around a stream that's partially iced over with singing flies making art, and a foul smelling Bard sings of an heroic dittie. What, exactly, does that mean?" 

"Oh! You doth wound me, child! How you dare to insult the great Bard?! I shall render your hind useless for a fortnight!" he wailed, his hand over his heart, his eyes wide. Taking the book from her, he placed it back on the shelf, handling it like it were a priceless Ming vase.

Thinking she had truly insulted him, she apologized profusely before he started to laugh. "Well, if you must read rubbish, then Scottish ghosts it shall be." He pulled the book from the shelf and set it on his desk. "Now let's get this table back in its proper place."

"Aye, Captain, oh Captain!" she bellowed, saluting him by placing her flattened hand over her right eye.

He narrowed his eyes at her and barked, "Ms. Boyce, although I have been rather lenient this weekend, do not forget I am still your employer, and I will not tolerate such disrespect."

Gayle didn't know what the hell to say. He had been lenient, fun and not so 'Dom-like;' apparently he had his little mood swings that she hadn't noticed before. She nodded and watched him press a button on a bottom shelf that opened a door at the far end of the room beside the fireplace. He folded up the massage table with ease and began to drag it toward the door, but she wasn't sure exactly when he would need her help because he seemed to have the situation under control.

As he approached the door, he said, "Go on inside and take the edge as I come in. I'll be placing it against the far wall."

Stepping to the doorway, what she saw in the fairly large storage room stopped her dead in her tracks. She was familiar with some of the equipment from her visit to The Crucible -- a wooden stock, the bondage bench, a four-foot body cage and a tall, thick wooden beamed apparatus.

Looking on the opposite wall was a wooden, doorless cabinet with several leather floggers of different lengths; several whips, every single one scaring the crap out of her just by looking at them -- some were beaded on the ends of the leather strips; three paddles of different sizes and textures; a strange-looking thick leather paddle that was split down the middle lengthwise; four metal restraints and four leather restraints with fur on the inside; two 2-1/2 foot metal strips with restraints attached on either side; a red mouth gag; a set of metal nipple clamps; and two riding crops. Several ropes were knotted and hung on metal spikes in the stones. 

"Oh. My. God," she whispered, suddenly finding her body shaking in fear.

"Ms. Boyce," Hamish grunted, seemingly struggling with the table, as it was at least ten feet high.

"Oh! Sorry, Sir!" She helped him pull it into the room, placing it between the cage and the wall.

He leaned against the door frame, folded his arms and gave her a curious grin. "Are you keen on trying something you see?"

"Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie?"

"Let's try the truth."

"Not really."

He chuckled and walked back to the bookshelf, and as she walked out he pressed the button; the door closed silently behind her. "We'll see if I can change your mind. Feel like a walk to the lake?"

She smiled. "Sure. That would be nice."

"Right. Why don't you go put on an apron of your choice, but not the one formal French maid one. That's only for special occasions. And don't wear the ones you've worn before."

 That doesn't sound like much of a choice, boss!  She smiled and shook her head. "Okay. Be right back."

With Bessie joining her, she went upstairs and selected the all-black apron with the lace bra and wide lace, bare-in-the-back skirt; there was a narrow, sheer strip from the bow in the bra to the skirt. Slipping on the stockings, she put on her heels and headed downstairs.

"Sir!" she hollered out, not knowing where he was. "I'll be in the kitchen!"

She filled a glass with orange juice and waited for him at the sink. A few minutes later he joined her carrying the book, a knotted long length of rope, two pairs of restraints and a leather flogger -- he was also wearing a very mischievous smirk.

Grinning back, she asked, "Are you planning on fishing with those? A rod and worm will give you much better results."

He laughed then set them on the table. "I'll give you a choice. You said you weren't ready for anything in my play room, but I was wondering if you'd be up for a bit of flogging in the fresh air. Again, it's up to you."

She closed her eyes and threw her head back. It didn't matter where she received the flogging, it was still a flogging. Taking a deep breath, she held it for a second before she replied, "If you promise to ... do it light and not hurt me."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 12



Walking to her, his eyes locked onto hers, he took her glass, finished off the juice and set it on the counter. He put his hand on her cheek and kissed her softly, the heat slowly building. Pulling back, he asked sarcastically, "Did  that  hurt?" After she shook her head, he said, "When will you ever learn that I will not hurt you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "I'd have it no other way. And you may wear your trainers."

After he put the toys in a paper bag, they took a leisurely walk through the woods led by Bessie, who stopped here and there to smell a rock or some grass. Gayle, for some odd reason, walked slower than she usually did. It might have been because of the threat of the flogger, but she had to admit it wasn't. It was at times like this, with the sun beating down on her and not having any pressure to please him, that she was beginning to appreciate. 

Hamish, on the other hand, was hating the silence between them. "Tell me, what happened between you and your ex?"

She looked at him a little cross. "Wow! What a way to spring that on me."

"I've never been one for beating around the bush."

She sighed, grabbed a stick Bessie laid in her path and threw it. "Like I said, we got along great outside of the bedroom. He was ... domineering, in the bedroom, selfish. The only thing that was really fucked up was him fudge packing with his roommate."

"Shyte! Fudge packing? Well, thank you very much. I am officially off ever eating fudge again."

She didn't feel like laughing at his joke. "Aside from anal, the other part that I have trouble with is ... being forced to, um ... I have really bad gag reflex, and he'd push my head too much, make me take more than I could handle. I actually threw up once."

"Ah. But you've had no problem taking most of my cock."

"Yes, because for the first time I actually pushed myself." She was suddenly afraid she'd confessed something she shouldn't have.

A few minutes later, he asked, "Is that all?"

She didn't like the tone in his voice, as it was very accusatory. "Yeah." Changing the subject to take the heat off of her her, she asked, "How about you? Have you ever had a serious relationship?"

"Oh, no," he retorted.

"Why is it so hard for you to find a woman?"

"No. I meant there is something else, isn't there?"

She didn't answer right away but managed to say, "When I found him, he chased me to the hall with the bed sheet wrapped around his waist and he ... He pinned me against the wall, threatened me never to tell anyone, especially his parents. I was shaking so badly and ... When I didn't answer quick enough he slapped me, hard. Left my cheek bruised for days."

It was a moment before he said, "Thus no slapping of your face."

She nodded. "But I'm okay with ... what we've done so far, paddling and stuff."

He grinned. "Stuff? You refer to having sex with me as  stuff ?"

She looked at him sharply, then when she saw he was smiling she chuckled. "You know what I mean."

Just as they approached the edge of the lake, he said, "And yes." Looking at him confused, he reiterated. "I did have a lass to whom I was engaged."

"Really?"

"Yes. That was at uni. Once we graduated she found a job in London. I wasn't willing to have a relationship long distance, so I ended it."

Placing the bags on the bench, he followed her to the water's edge, picked up a rock and threw it in. Bessie, not seeing what he threw, went in after it. Hamish laughed and shook his head. "That bloody dog would chew rocks if I let her."

Gayle chuckled. "Granny had a retriever that actually did, along with acorns and tree branches. She wasn't too bright."

As Bessie brought back a stick that must have been in the water, Hamish threw it back in, and of course the canine went to retrieve it. The ripples skirted over the surface as she paddled closer, held it between her teeth then came back to shore. 

Gayle had learned her lesson at the beach and stepped back away several feet just before the dog shook out the water from her fur. "Ha!" she shrieked. "You're not getting me wet this time!"

Bessie must have mistook her exclamation as Caninish for, 'Come here!' In mid shake, she headed straight to Gayle, stood at her feet and again shook her body. Multitudes of water shot out but only a few drops found her. Wagging her tail, Bessie dug her nose between Gayle's knees.

"Thought you'd get me wet that time, didn't you, girl!" Gayle chided as she pet the dog's head.

That, in turn, must have been Doginese because Bessie suddenly sneezed violently, prompting dog-snot to collect on her hand and most of her arm. Hamish burst into a fit of laughter, his hand on his stomach, his face toward the sky. 

"Oh, my God!" Gayle screamed then laughed as well, shaking her head in utter disbelief. "Of all the ..."

Kicking off her sneakers, she went into the water just to her ankles, bent over and washed away the slobbery mess, providing Hamish with the perfect view of her ass, not that she thought twice about it. 

"Fucking lovely," he growled. "Bessie, you are getting a prime choice steak for dinner tonight for this little stunt. Well done." 

At hearing his words, Gayle turned around, put her hands on her hips and walked toward her boss and his furry conspirator. Grinning wickedly, she put her arm up and dried it on the back of his t-shirt. 

He didn't even flinch. "I guess I deserved that," he grumbled. 

"Yeah, you did," she said seriously then laughed. "And there are no more steaks left. So your little sidekick is S.O.L."

"S.O.L?"

"Shit out of luck."

"Hmm, you are pushing your luck, I have to say."

"Well, I am at your mercy, am I not?" she asked in a very poor British accent.

In a split second he took both of her wrists, twisted them around her back and pulled her to him hard, their bodies flush, their eyes locked. She inhaled sharply and looked at him, bewildered. Her heartbeat fluttered with the way he was burrowing his eyes into hers, and she felt her cheeks blush, making her turn her head away from him from embarrassment.

He didn't care much for that, though, and placed his forefinger under her chin. Pushing it up, she was forced to look back into his face, then his eyes. There was an intensity in them that surprised her, yet she wasn't sure if it was a reflection of her own thoughts and feelings.

With his thumb, he pressed her chin down until her lips parted slightly then traced the pad over her bottom lip corner to corner. Her heart jumped to her throat as she kept telling herself over and over to breath. Her shoulders flexed and tensed as her fingers curled into a fist -- from nerves or from excitement, she couldn't tell.

"After last night, one would think you wouldn't still be shy. But I'm curious. Are you afraid of me? The truth, just in case you ask."

Her eyebrows furrowed at the question, though she couldn't hide the grin at his comment; he always had to be one step ahead of her.  Am I really that transparent?

"Sir? May we sit, please?"

He nodded, led her to the bench, put the paper bag of toys on the ground then both sat down. Facing the lake, she had to dig deep within herself to find the answer. She decided the best approach was to be honest.

"I ..." She had to clear her throat. "Afraid of you? No Sir. But at first I thought you were a dickhead. I wish I could figure you out." She looked at him briefly. "One day you're thoughtful and fun. The next I'm chained to the fucking bed overnight." She swallowed hard waiting for his retaliation. There was none. 

"Sometimes I feel like I'm walking on glass around you. You want me to be upfront with you, be honest. But I just want to be  me . But sometimes I feel like I can't. I've never been good at expressing my feelings. I've called my own shots, made my own decisions. I've never had to answer to anyone 24-7 ... well, other than family. I've hardly had the time to relax and really enjoy myself here. This weekend, though, has been great. I haven't felt so ... chained to the house, now that you've given me the freedom to explore on my own. So, no, I'm not afraid of you. I would use the word cautious."

"Hmm," he muttered. 

Apprehensively she looked at him again, only then afraid she'd said too much, and with that one utterance knew for sure he was about to drown her in the lake. But she had the opportunity to get to know him better and wasn't about to waste her chance.

"Sir? May I ask you something?" 

He nodded again, giving her a cautious grin. "You told me earlier you were going through something that was hard for you to deal with." She didn't want to come right out and ask him in case it would offend him.

He was quiet for several moments, his shoulders immediately tensed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "The anniversary of Mum's death is Tuesday. I always get a little ..."

"Lost?"

He looked at her sharply then nodded. "I won't make your stay here a waste, Ms. Boyce. This week has been more of ... a test, than anything, and you passed. You're a hard worker, and yes, maybe I did push you a bit hard at times, and as I've said, I will continue to do so. But whether you realize it or not I do think highly of you. And if I were honest too, I have enjoyed having you here."

"I'm sorry, Sir, about your mom. I'm only curious about you, just as you are of me. And thank you."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "So, do you want my life's story?"

"No Sir. I don't want to pry."

He took a deep breath, put his arm on the back of the bench and turned his body to face her. "The reason I called off the wedding with my ex-fiance was because Father didn't like her. He thought she was simply after the money, which wasn't the case at all. She wanted a career and to make a name for herself before she settled down and married. I did love her, and it was ages before I got back to normal. Jack was the one that ... got me back on my feet."

She listened intently, surprised his voice was filled with anger, resentment -- some intense emotion she couldn't put her finger on. "Sir? What about your brother?"

"As I told you we always competed for Father's ... affection, acceptance, whatever the hell it was that bastard could never give us. If I thought he hated me, he hated Ian more."

"Hated sounds so harsh. How can someone hate their child?"

"Father resented Ian for killing our mum. He barely acknowledged him, and I got the blame for everything that lad did, even for things that he didn't. He had to give his opinion on everything -- which school courses I would take, what profession I should get into, which girl to date that had the most family money, what to eat for dinner. By the time I graduated uni I swore I'd never let that man rule my life."

Gayle really didn't know what to say so she let it alone. She had a long way to go before she really understood him, but it was a start. She had to give him a chance, so she stood, picked up the bag of toys and handed it to him. It was the only way she knew how to show him she did trust him, and he had proven himself as well.

"Is this something you really want?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes Sir."

"Alright." Looking down over her face, he raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Boyce, do you remember the obedience training you took at the club in Washington?"

 Oh, crap! What have I started?  "Yes Sir."

"Let's do a little test of what all you've learned. Remove your outfit."

Taking a deep breath to build her confidence, she quickly undressed, laid the apron on the bench neatly folded and faced him confidently so as not to give any indication of her slight fear. 

He smiled approvingly, grabbed the bag and walked to the tree line, looking at the low branches curiously until he was satisfied with one spot. "Ms. Boyce, come here."

Obediently she went to him, put her hands behind her and waited, though she only had to wait a few seconds. He pulled out the restraints and secured them around each of her wrists then pulled out the rope, untied it and flung it over a thick, strong branch that was about four feet above her head. He told her to face the trees then ran one end through the ring of one restraint and knotted it fancily and pulled on it to make sure it wouldn't slip free. 

Then he ran the other end of the rope through the other restraint ring, into the one he'd just done and pulled that through tight enough so that she was forced to raise her arms until they were over her head and completely straight. It took a minute or so as he did this to make sure she was properly secure, though there were a few inches of slack.

"Spread your legs," he instructed.

Doing so, her wrists came together, and she tried to get as comfortable as she could as she planted her feet into the soft, sparse grass. From the corner of her eye she could see he was still fiddling here or there to make sure he was indeed satisfied. Smiling, he leaned back and looked up and down her body slowly, painstakingly slowly. 

He fought every impulse not to touch her, not yet. Oh, he wanted to desperately, but he also wanted to admire her. Leaning forward, he brought his lips just inches from her ear. "Gayle, if no one has ever told you how incredibly beautiful you are, I am telling you now."

No, no one had ever told her that, other than her parents, which didn't count. It was nice to hear, nonetheless. She stood motionless, fisting her hands nervously, trying to catch her breath and control her breathing, which was difficult. A sudden light breeze enveloped her body, and although the sun was beaming on her back, a chill crept over her entire body. In response, goose flesh erupted all over, and she closed her eyes to relish the sensation.

Stepping behind her, he pressed his chest against her back, purposely keeping his quickly growing cock away from the crack of her ass. Placing his hands on her hips, he buried his chin in the nape of her neck and began to kiss and lick his way to her earlobe, where he flicked the tip of his tongue under the lobe. With his lips he nibbled the fleshiest part, occasionally running his tongue over it before licking all the way to the top.

She took in a sharp breath and tilted her head toward him, her lips slightly parted as his hands explored her shoulders, skimming down to her ass cheeks, where he eagerly and playfully squeezed them a few times. Giggling nervously, she hated that he pulled back and lost the contact between their bodies. 

A moment later he stood in front of her, and as difficult as it was for her to look into his eyes, seeing the lustful expression on his face she wanted nothing more than to touch him, hold him. For the first time her body yearned for his. 

He placed the palms of his hands on her cheeks and rubbed his thumbs over the blushing apples. Leaning forward, he brushed his cheek against hers, closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her waist and ran his hands over the small of her back. Slowly, he brought his lips to hers, lingering a second then took her bottom lip between his, softly and passionately kissed her.

Hamish's gesture did not escape Gayle. Her body reacted in a surge of hunger and need that scared her, yet invigorated her. She moaned softly and gave him all that she could in that moment, pressing her lips as hard as she could in her restricted position. Their tongues went in search of the others' as his hands slid down to her breasts. Taking a firm hold of each, he pinched her nipples, soft at first, before he began to twist them.

She took in a sharp breath when he grasped her nubs and pinched harder, forcing her to break the kiss. "Mmm. Wow," she muttered then opened her eyes.

Not saying a word, he caressed her breasts again before scraping his pinky fingernail down between her breasts to her stomach. Grinning wickedly, he flattened his hand and slipped it between her thighs, teasing first then ran the pad of his finger from her entrance to her clit. Keeping his eyes on her face, he took her now erect nipple between his teeth then sucked, all the while circling his finger lightly before flicking it faster until she threw her head back and tried to bend her knees, to no avail.

Releasing the nipple, he leaned back up but didn't remove his finger. "Stay still. Do  not  move, and do  not  come."

She wasn't able to say a word, much less moan, so she simply shook her head. 

Again concentrating on her clit, he began to maneuver his finger, alternating between fast and slow, hard and soft. She was losing her mind quickly, but in a good way. He definitely was talented with his fingers, and before she knew it he'd slipped two fingers inside her pussy.

"Hmmph." She groaned as he put his thumb on her clit and kept up his prior action.

"You are drenched, so hot and tight," he cooed, his hot breath blowing over her breasts. "You like that, don't you?"

Nodding emphatically, she manged to mumble, "Yes Sir."

Penetrating inside her a few times, he asked, "Your pussy wants my cock, doesn't it?"

Again nodding, she moaned, "Yesss Sir ... No, no! 'm going to ..."

In the nick of time, he pulled his hand away before she would have come, and for a brief moment she hated him for it. But when he held her and kissed her passionately, it quickly faded.

"I need to be inside you, too, Gayle. To feel your walls gripping my cock. Hmm, I would think I'd die a happy man. But not quite yet. I have other plans for you."

 Oh, fuck! What the hell are you doing to me?! 

After gathering the full length of her hair, in which he brought over her shoulder to keep her back bare, he then disappeared from her sight. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the paper from the bag crumbling behind her. She knew what that meant. 

Staring at her backside, he admired her shapely figure before finally approaching her. Waiting a second to build anticipation, he ran his warm hands over her shoulders.

"Now, relax, little fawn. I will start off with light strokes at first, but remember to call out your safe word if you need to. I will immediately stop and release you. Are you ready?"

 Yes. No. "Yes Sir."

"Very good."

Giving her a quick kiss of assurance on the nape of her neck, he stepped back several feet, grabbed the flogger and did a few figure eights in the air, letting the handle meld with the shape of his hand. From the corner of his eye he saw her legs tense, and she tried to look back, but he purposefully stood in her blind spot so she couldn't see him.

Her heart started to pound, and she wished she had something to hold onto, but there was nothing. Her hands dangled, and all she could do was fist her hands as the gust of air from the flogger's momentum swooshed over her ass and thighs. Closing her eyes, she waited for the first contact.

The ends of the leather strips snapped on her right ass cheek then her left, and within seconds the impact alternated between her cheeks and upper thighs. The floggings were light at first but increased gradually, though never hard and always controlled. Every time the straps touched her skin she would moan and jump slightly. Loving her responsiveness, he fed off of it and read her body perfectly, knowing when and where to make the next strike.

Gayle was very relieved Hamish's strokes were as gentle as they were, so she forced herself to settle her nerves and let him continue. Soon enough the flogger kissed her shoulder blades, the small of her back then back to her buttocks to her thighs and shins. The rhythm was perfectly in sync, and she found her breathing become shallow and loud, her head tilted against her shoulder.

"That's it, Gayle," he said. "Let the leather caress your back, your thighs, your ass." 

She heard him, but she didn't. Her mind was starting to wander as she felt her backside grow hot with each stroke, but it was surprising. It felt good to her, and as her mouth hung open she heard a soft whine escape her lips.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 12



Momentarily stopping, he stood behind her and whispered in her ear, "That's it, little one. Let everything go. Your thoughts, your worries. You're mine now, right here, right now." He switched to her other ear, kissing and nibbling. "Nothing exists but how you feel, every nerve ending screaming and shooting straight to that hot, cavernous cunt."

"Oh. My. God." She sighed as her body shook. No one had ever talked to her the way he was, and it ignited the fire that had been building up within her.

"Listen to what your body is telling you: How good it feels, how much it craves and needs the attention."

He slipped his arms around her upper body and pinched both swollen nipples, twisting and pulling them out until she squeaked. Slipping one hand down to her crotch, he growled into her ear when his fingertip easily slid over her wet, throbbing clit.

"Fuck, you're dripping. Remember your 'red,' do  not  come."

"Nnnno Sir."

He grinned wickedly, loving the power he held over her. "Your pussy is on fire, isn't it?"

She gurgled before she replied, "Y'sssss."

Keeping his finger on her clit, he cooed, "You want to feel my cock inside of you, don't you?"

Her response was a whimper, and he twisted her nipple again.

"I'd love to feel my cock pound that tight, warm pussy of yours, your juices surrounding my rod, your muscles sucking at my cock when your orgasm ..." He dove two fingers inside of her and flicked the tips on her g-spot.

"Ohh, fuuu ..." Her body convulsed, and she arched her back. "Please, please let me come," she panted.

"NO!" He promptly smacked her ass cheek hard. "Control it, Gayle."

He pressed his chest flush against her back and felt the heat radiating off of her. Laying his chin over and down her neck a little, just enough so that he could see her breasts, he continued his verbal onslaught.

Gayle was utterly out of her mind. She had never felt this out of control, so unlike her. Her knees fought to come together, as if that would prevent her orgasm. The orgasm built and built within her, needing to explode and free itself, her breathing hard and raspy. She hated where he was sending her. She hated ... hated ... 

"I'm going to come!" 

In a split second he pulled his fingers out of her, released her breast and simply wrapped his arms around her waist, shh'ing softly into her ear. "Hold it back. Fight it. You can do it. Control your breathing."

Forcing herself to control her breathing, it took a few minutes for the orgasm to dwindle. 

"What is your color, Gayle?"

"Green, Sir."

"Perfect. Are you ready for more flogging?"

"Yesss. I think so, Sir."

Standing beside her, her head resting on her shoulder facing away from him, he said, "Gayle, look at me." She immediately did so, and he rubbed her cheeks softly. "You have to be sure, I've told you. I won't push you if you're not ready."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Sir. You're right. Please, go ahead."

For the next fifteen minutes, Hamish continued to flog Gayle on every inch of her backside until it was a beautiful shade of pink. Her back was arched, her head back and again her breathing was shallow. He knew she was gone mentally, in a happy, good place based on her body's reactions. And he also knew how close she was to coming. 

Loudly, he said, "Gayle, when I count to three you are permitted to come. Do you understand?"

He waited a moment before he heard her reply that yes, she understood, though her own voice was barely audible to her.

The leather straps caressed her flushed, hot skin as he counted. "One."

She braced herself mentally, though her mind was already gone; her body almost numb. 

"Two," he said louder, lightening the strokes.

Her hands fisted tighter, so much so that her nails dug into the palms. Again, there was no pain whatsoever. Her pussy throbbed, and her clit was so swollen and sensitive that the pain didn't register with her brain.

"THREE!" he shouted, giving her two harder stokes on her ass cheeks.

She took one deep breath and let the orgasm course through her, moaning without caring how loud. "Ohgodohgod!" she screamed, her head tilted back.

Every muscle in her body tightened as her hands clenched harder, her feet dug into the grass and her head lost all of its strength to keep it up any longer. She pushed her ass out, though she wasn't pleading for Hamish's cock. She was simply trying to keep herself from squirting her juices beneath her.

It took a second before she felt Hamish's arms around her; his hands felt cold compared to the heat of her body. "Hmm, Sir," she mumbled, grinning like a foolish virgin.

He buried his lips in the crook of her neck and kissed his way to her cheek, as he moved around her to stand in front of her. His hands moved up to her neck and embraced her firmly, looking deeply into her eyes. 

After he laid a hard, passionate kiss on her lips, he said, "You did well, little fawn. Very well."

Forcing herself to look deeply into his eyes, she muttered, "Thank you, Sir."

Kissing her nose, he told her, "I'm going to let you down now. Lean on me, okay?"

She could barely find her voice again so just nodded. 

"Bring your feet together, love."

Without a word, he pulled out a knife from the front pocket of his jeans and cut the rope swiftly. Sure enough, she collapsed forward in time for him to catch her under her arms and gently sat her down in a grassy patch. Wrapping his arm around her back, he pulled her to him and forced her head onto his shoulder.

Wiping her hair back again, he began to rock her gently, whispering softly. Her body was still numb, still hot from the flogging, but she allowed herself to melt into his arms and listen to his voice, though she could not comprehend his words.

A few minutes later Bessie came up to Hamish cautiously, not really sure what had happened to her human companion. Lying down, she lay her chin on his thigh and stared at Gayle. The movement brought Gayle around a bit more, and she found what little strength she had to pet the canine's head.

Bessie's tail began to whip against Hamish's ankle, and he had to fuss at her to make her to stop. Gayle chuckled. "I guess she's getting back at you for what you did to me." But as soon as the words came out she instantly regretted it.

She was just about to correct herself when he said, "She wouldn't dare. I'm the one that feeds her." He, too, pet her head after Gayle took hers away and she snuggled closer to him.

"So, tell me. How was your first flogging?" he asked.

"Well, you gave me an orgasm. Doesn't that answer your question?"

"Aye, it does."

"Aye?" she chuckled. "That's the first time I've heard you say that. I thought you Scots used that all the time."

"No, we don't." She suddenly shivered. "Let's get you inside. Heaven forbid you catch your death of pneumonia and you come back to haunt me. Isn't that what you threatened me with?"

"Aye, Sir."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Very funny. Let's get."

Gayle had to hold onto Hamish's forearm as they walked back to the castle, her knees being too wobbly to support herself. She wanted the warmth of the sun to beam down on her, but it was hidden behind incoming gray clouds. The only warmth she felt was between her legs, regardless of her orgasm. She was shocked she was still wet, and she was still horny.

As they entered the kitchen, Bessie scurried under the table and Hamish offered to make some coffee while she pulled something together for lunch. Even after they'd eaten her crotch was screaming at her. Taking their plates to the sink, she went back to him and stood beside him.

Gathering her courage, she asked, "Sir? May I ... Can we ... I'm still kind of ..."

"For Pete's sake, woman!" he bellowed louder than he meant to. "Just say it, will you?" The smirk on his lips told her he wasn't really angry.

"Will you fuck me?"

"Now, that didn't kill you, did it?"

She shook her head as he unbuckled his belt, pulled the waist down to his ankles and padded his thigh. When she looked at his hand she was shocked to see his cock at full attention and swallowed hard. Placing her hand on his shoulder for support, she straddled him, teasing a moment by not allowing his cock to impale her. But he took her hands firmly, forcing her to do just that.

She gasped loudly as he filled her completely. She threw her head back as his pubic hair rubbed against her clit. "Ohhh, fuuuuck," she moaned.

Grasping his arms around her waist, he kissed her throat softly. "Ride me. You're in control, for now."

Not having any clue how to, being it was the first time she sat on any man, she gently pushed him back and kept her hands on his shoulders. He began to kiss her neck, circling his tongue here and there before nibbling on her flesh.

A second passed before she was able to gyrate her hips in such a way that he penetrated her fully, then she pulled back so that just the head remained inside her before pressing her hips so close that the tip of his cock was as deep inside her as he could be.

Wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, she began to ride him in perfect rhythm, exactly as he had when he flogged her. Both of their breathing was heavy and fast; that, too, was in unison. She reveled feeling his rapid heartbeat pound against her own.

"Hmm, Hammmish."

"Yesss. Just like that. Don' stop ..."

Feeling his cock throb inside of her, she tightened her walls around him, eliciting a moan from him. "Goddd, you feel sooo good," she muttered.

"Jesus ... I don't want to ... come ... Not yet. Fuuck!"

They were so close to coming that each eagerly waited for the other to come first. But instead, from underneath the table, a very loud and unwanted fart came from a certain, very much unwanted canine.

"Oh, God!" they both grunted together.

"Not again!" Gayle groaned.

"Bloody dog!" Hamish grunted. "Go!" He stretched his leg out until his foot found Bessie's hind legs and gently pushed her away. She came out from under the table and stood at his feet. "No treat for you!" he barked down at her.

Gayle couldn't help herself from laughing so hard, but she was also pissed that the dog had interrupted at the most inopportune moment. "She is worse than having an infant around!"

He laughed back and kissed her again. "Oh, she's still a puppy, but she is definitely being locked away when we're shagging. How's about a little rest? Then you can Skype with your father and sister."



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 13



READERS: I am so sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was sorta lost and even forcing to write was traumatic. Ok, I'm exaggerating. lol Thanks for hanging with me. I've made this chapter a little juicy, but don't get used to it. I just had some making up to do.

Thanks to JonB1965 for his editing expertise!

We last left off with Hamish and Gayle having spent the late morning at the lake for her first flogging.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sunday, August 11th, 2013; Early afternoon

Hamish allowed Gayle to change into a sweater and jeans before they settled in the drawing room. She sat on the couch with a blanket over her to keep the chill off; it might have been August and warm outside, but it was more chilly than she was used to.

Immediately she closed her eyes in the hopes that she would come to understand all that she felt while being flogged. For once in her life, she felt each touch of his fingers, each individual leather strip. But it wasn't at the surface, it was deeper. So much deeper. As time went on, her mind seemed to float away and nothing mattered except the next strike, his next word, the next touch. She craved the sensation.

Hamish had gotten comfortable in his leather chair and absentmindedly stared at the TV. It was mainly for the noise anyway, as he wasn't even paying attention to it. He wanted to know what was going through Gayle's mind, only knowing full well how spent she'd felt and figured she probably just wanted to rest.

After a few minutes passed, he rested his head in his hand and stared at her for the longest time before she fussed at him for staring, respectfully, of course. "You, my dear, are much nicer to look at than that stupid tube."

She grinned shyly. "I've just been thinking. I've been tired before, Sir, but never this tired. Not so much physically but more mentally. I'm brain dead." She giggled.

"I'll take that as a compliment." He grinned back. "You're coming down. Best to rest it off."

"Yeah, I guess so." She was quiet for a moment before she asked, "Will you be late for dinner on Tuesday?" She didn't want to bring up his mother, but she was wondering whether she should put dinner off because she would have to tell Jessie to come a little later, if that was the case.

He went to the bar, poured himself a whiskey and went back to his chair. After taking a long sip, he replied, "No. I'll visit Mother's grave during lunch." His tone was empty, painful.

She instantly regretted ever bringing it up. "Sir, I didn't mean to –"

He waved his hand. "I appreciate your concern. Would you mind picking some flowers from the garden tomorrow afternoon? I'll take them to work on Tuesday."

"I'd be happy to." She was touched that he included her in something so important to him. "Anything else I can do?"

He smiled, although there was no warmth in his eyes. "No. But I advise you to pay special attention to Jessie when she's cooking Tuesday's supper. She has a habit of making my favorite dish on ... I'd like it more often than once a year."

"I'd like that. What is it?"

"Arbroath smokies." Gayle's eyebrows furled as her eyes flew open. "It's quite simple. Haddock is salted overnight then tied in pairs, using hemp twine – that is the key – then left overnight to dry. They're hung on a triangular length of wood to smoke in a special barrel containing a hardwood fire. Then you place the lid and seal around the edges with wet jute sacks. That helps to cook the fish and gives them a strong, smoky taste. Jessie has it down to a science so it shouldn't be difficult to pick up."

She stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Um, do they have frozen haddock I can heat in the microwave?"

He scowled at her. "Most certainly not! Lass, by the time you go home, you will have a full repertoire of Scottish recipes that you should be able to open your own pub."

She grinned sheepishly. "Did I tell you I'm allergic to haddock?"

He finally smiled. "It's actually kedgeree, an Indian dish."

"No curry! How about peanut butter and banana sandwiches?"

He laughed. "Not to worry. It's easy to make. We'll have steak Balmoral with whiskey sauce, Jessie's runner beans and tater patties."

She was relieved beyond words. "What are runner beans?"

"I believe you call them green beans."

"Oh. What about dessert?"

"Jessie makes incredible lemon shortbread biscuits."

"Lemon biscuits? That doesn't sound very appetizing."

"No. No. Cookies are biscuits here."

"Oh, right. I don't think I can handle making shortbread again. I found a recipe online from a woman's Scottish grandmother, and it was a disaster. Three ingredients, just three! Instead of one cup of flour and three cups of sugar I switched them. I knew they didn't look right, but I tried one. Let me just say if you are ever in the mood for Styrofoam, let me know!" She laughed.

"Who in the world can ruin shortbread?"

She tentatively raised her hand and grinned. "I burn hard boiled eggs, remember? But I was still in high school, so you can't blame me. I have gotten better at cooking. I like to cook, but not so much for myself."

"I haven't died of food poisoning yet from your cooking, so that's a good thing, I would think."

"Don't think I haven't thought of it, boss ... Sir." She quickly added the title when he gave her a severe look of warning. "I'm teasing ... maybe. Seriously, I've had food poisoning, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." She suddenly yawned long and hard and closed her eyes.

"I'll have to hire a food taster, in that case. Now I'll be quiet so you can rest. Or maybe I'll just sit here and keep staring at you."

When she didn't reply, he watched her chest rise and fall slowly, indicating she was on her way to falling asleep. Looking down at Bessie, who had curled up at his feet and also asleep, he whispered, "Keep up that awful timing of your little farting surprises, and I'll make you my food taster!" The canine didn't budge.

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

"Catelyn! You colored your hair!" Gayle exclaimed as the Skype picture appeared on the monitor of Hamish's computer in his office. "I love it!"

"It took some getting used to. You look great, Gigi."

"Ugh! I thought I gave you my last Ho-Ho never to call me that again."

"I was three! I don't remember that."

Gayle laughed. "Oh, whatever! Hey, how's Mom?"

Catelyn's expression suddenly turned grim as she explained her mother's condition. It wasn't good. Her blood pressure was fluctuating wildly, her kidney function was deteriorating, and her moods went from extremely happy to terribly depressed, whether or not she knew who she was, or even who was in the room with her. The medications were no longer helping.

Gayle instantly deflated, fighting off the tears. "Well, shit. The doctors warned the meds might be only temporary. Will she need to be on dialysis?"

"No, not yet. They've switched her meds. It's wait and see, really."

"Hmm. I wonder if Si ... Hamish will let me check my email daily. I'll ask him. How's Dad?"

"He's holding his own. He seems better mentally. He's finally eating and gained some weight back. He was down to 135, Gayle! For a man five-foot-eleven, he literally looked like skin and bones. Anyway, his boss is cool about his working hours. He works from seven to four now to spend some time with Mom."

"Oh, thank god. That's a relief. And Greg's always been cool with Dad."

"Speaking of bosses, how's yours?" Catelyn asked, wagging her eyebrows.

Gayle blushed and moved closer to the monitor. "What happens in Scotland stays in Scotland. Oh, hell! I can't believe I said that! Just stop it, brat! I am doing great. That's all you need to know."

She then told her sister all about her weekend, minus the playing parts and anything sexual.

"That's sounds awesome! I am so jealous," Catelyn teased.

You wouldn't be jealous if you knew the truth, sis.

For the next fifteen minutes Catelyn caught Gayle up on friends they knew and everything else Gayle had missed, which wasn't much. Catelyn had been acing most of her classes, and was about to join a fraternity. As she spoke, she suddenly looked up and to the side of the camera then nodded.

"Hey, Dad's driving me nuts. He wants to meet Hamish."

"Well, right now he's outside with Bessie." She was greatly relieved for that, being she wasn't quite ready for the two to meet yet.

"Bessie? Who's Bessie?" Catelyn asked.

"His retriever. She's a sweetie and far from a guard dog."

"You've got a dog?! You're so lucky! I'm still trying to convince Dad to get one to keep him company!"

"She's not my dog, Cat. She does keep me company during the day while I clean. But yeah, at least she likes me. You know I like cats better –"

A bark interrupted her as Bessie trotted in. "Cats are good for nothing but catching mice in the barn," Hamish commented and stood beside Gayle out of view of the camera.

Gayle chuckled before Catelyn exclaimed, "Hey, Hamish! Get closer to Gayle. I can't see you!"

He shook his head and leaned over, smiling broadly. "Hello, Catelyn."

"Oh, my gosh! You're kinda cu –"

"Cat! Get Dad and go do ... something." Gayle laughed, her cheeks blushing wildly.

"Oh, you're no fun. He went to get coffee. DAD! GAYLE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

"Geez, girl!" Gayle chastised her sister as the speakers vibrated from her screaming. "Could you be less uncouth?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Catelyn huffed with a smile and left their view, leaving an empty chair to stare at, and an uncomfortable silence between Gayle and Hamish. Gayle got up and stood behind the chair while Hamish sat in it, as did her dad in his office chair; Catelyn stood behind with her eyes wide open and a huge smile on her face.

"Hi, Dad!" Gayle said cheerily, waving her hand. "Wow, you're looking great. How are you?"

"I'm fine, baby girl. You look great, too."

She was quiet for several seconds as her father looked over Hamish. "Hello, Mr. McDougal. I'm John, Gayle's father."

Gayle didn't let the fact pass her by when she saw Hamish's shoulders tense. "It's a pleasure to meet you, John. And please, call me Hamish."

"Are you taking care of my little girl?"

"I am, I am. She's a hard worker, and I've enjoyed having her here."

John smiled while Gayle blushed. Is Hamish doing this on purpose? She hated being put on the spot, especially one so embarrassing.

Hamish spent a few minutes informing John with how pleased he was with her, and her father seemed satisfied that she was in good hands. Gayle said a quick goodbye to her family, with a promise that she would write as much as she could and send pictures when she bought a camera on her first day off, which was the following week.

When Hamish turned off Skype, he turned around in his chair and looked over Gayle's face for several moments. He could tell she was fighting back tears, and it tugged roughly at his heart. "Are you okay?" She shook her head. "I know it's hard. And yes, you may email as often as you like."

"You ... you were listening?" she asked, more embarrassed than angry.

"No. I overheard you. Let's get something to eat and watch a movie. What do you say?"

She forced herself to look at him and smiled, though it was difficult. "Yes Sir."

A few hours later, both having eaten and ready to settle down for the night, Hamish sat on the couch and instructed Gayle to stand between his knees. He took her hands and squeezed them briefly before he slid his hands to the waist of her jeans and started to unbutton them.

"Sir, please, don't," she pleaded, shaking her head.

"Shh," he replied.

Continuing unbuttoning her jeans, he pushed them down, along with her briefs, before she stepped out of them. Without a word he removed her sweater, doing nothing to insinuate he wanted anything more. After he folded the sweater and jeans, he put them on the coffee table and then laid on his side on the couch. Patting the narrow space in front of him, she nestled against him, then he threw a thick, warm blanket over them. He draped his arm over her waist, so when she was satisfied he only wanted to snuggle, she rested her head on his upper arm. His other arm was slowly and lovingly brushing her hair away from her temple.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Her voice was weak, somewhat tortured.

"You don't sound fine."

"I'll be fine."

A moment later, she mumbled under her breath.

"What is it? You can talk to me, you know," he asked, growing concerned.

"I know. Thanks. And don't stop."

"Don't stop what?" he asked, truly confused as to what he was doing right.

"Mom used to do that when I was a little girl." He immediately pulled his fingers back. "No, no. Please, keep doing it." After he continued, she explained, "She would do that after I had a nightmare. It would put me right to sleep."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to fall to sleep. Heaven forbid you miss 'The Full Monty.'"

"Then start the movie, Sir."

"Hmm, are you telling me what to do?" His voice was teasing.

"Yep. I don't get the chance often to boss you around."

"Don't press your luck, little dove."

He started to lightly run his fingertips over her temples, and she melted into him. For once, she felt secure, safe, appreciated, loved ...

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

Tuesday, August 13th, 2013

Gayle woke up feeling like she'd been run over by a lorrie, an SUV and an UPS truck. She laid there for a few minutes, willing her body to get out of bed, but after Sunday's flogging and the extra-thorough cleaning of the guest bedrooms she'd done the day before, she would have loved to have an extra fifteen minutes of sleep.

But eventually she pushed herself up with a groan. Walking out of her bedroom, she saw Hamish's bedroom light on through the bottom of the door. Knocking lightly, she hollered, "Sir? Is Bessie ready to go out?" Concerned when he didn't answer right away, she knocked again.

"Just a second!" he barked.

Her stomach churned in the pit of her stomach at the harshness in his voice. She hadn't done anything to make him angry the day before. But she had to remember today would be a tough day for him, being the anniversary of his mother's death.

A second later the door opened. Gayle stared at him astonished at how bad he looked. His eyes were swollen and red, and it looked like he hadn't slept in days. She was distracted when Bessie bolted to her feet and wagged her tail excitedly. Petting her and telling her good morning, she asked if he would help her put her chastity belt on, but he closed without a word.

Only after Gayle let Bessie out and she had put the eggs and sausage strata in the oven to bake did Hamish finally join her in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee before she could make it for him.

"The strata will be ready in fifteen minutes," she told him as he sat at the table. "Do you want me to make you some toast, Sir?"

Again, he didn't answer. She didn't think he would be this miserable, and she was beginning to get irritated. She didn't know how much longer she could continue to be sensitive with him. She put bread for herself in the toaster, and when it was browned she poured herself another cup of coffee. Sitting down across from him, she tried to think of something to say. She could come up with nothing.

After they ate in an uncomfortable silence. The only word he said was, "Bye."

Looking down at Bessie, she was looking at her daddy just as confused. As she turned around to go clean the dishes, she saw the flowers wrapped neatly in a paper bag. Quickly grabbing them, she ran outside not even caring she was only wearing an apron that barely covered her chest.

"HAMISH!" She screamed as she ran after his car, which had just started to head down the driveway. "HAMISH!"

Bessie followed her barking the entire way, knowing that an extra voice would stop her daddy. Sure enough, the brake lights came on, and he finally stopped.

Oh, thank God! She sighed in relief as she approached the driver's side and the window lowered. "Sir, the flowers," she said, handing them over to him.

He was silent for a moment, then he took them and put them on the passenger seat. "Thanks," he grumbled.

"You're welcome," she replied then started to walk away.

"Gayle?" She returned to the car. "Breakfast was great. Thank you. Sorry for being such a prat."

She shook her head and smiled. "Sir, don't. I understand."

He finally smiled, and she swore she saw a little moisture build up in his eyes. Her heart broke for him, and there was only one thing she could think of to make his day just a little better ... or at least she hoped it would. She leaned halfway through the window, looked into his eyes briefly before she kissed him, every so lightly, just enough to let him know she was concerned about him.

At first she felt his resistance, but he eventually put his hand on the back of her head and returned the kiss with more passion than she expected. Nibbling on his bottom lip then his top lip, she pulled back a little.

"Have a good day, Sir. I'll be thinking about you."

He kissed her nose. "Thank you, love."

Standing up, she watched him drive away, but then had to fuss at Bessie for starting to chase after him. She stood dumbfounded at the strange turn of events. It wasn't so much that he was so grumpy. That was understandable.

What she didn't understand was how much she liked kissing him goodbye and especially putting a smile on his face.

"Well, Bessie, looks like things won't be so bad here.

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

"Alrecht, hae ye got it?" Jessie asked Gayle after she put the baking dish in the oven with the steak Balmoral. "Put th' tatties in th' oven fur fifteen minutes, an' th' beans ur simmerin' on low. As A've tauld ye, my lemon shortbreid biscuits ur in th' tin."

"Jessie, thank you so much for showing me how to prepare this. But I guarantee I won't make it as well as you do."

Putting the oven mitt on the kitchen counter, she turned to Gayle and put her hand on her shoulder. "Gayle, jist a wurd ay advice: Hamish will be quiet, considerin' ... Dornt tak' it personally, an' if he wants ta gab, jist lit heem. He guards 'is heart. Ah have tae teel ye, he's changed a wee bit. 'hat has a lot tae dae wi' ye. Yoo're guid fur heem, whether he realizes it ur nae."

Gayle didn't know what to say. Looking at her watch, she freaked out a little when she realized she had ten minutes to prepare herself to meet Hamish in the drawing room.

"Noo git. He'll be haem shortly."

"Thanks again. I'll see you tomorrow."

She ran upstairs, removed her blouse and jeans, put on her collar, checked herself in the bathroom mirror and rushed downstairs to the drawing room. She knew she had three minutes to prepare his whiskey, but when she got into the room she stopped dead in her tracks. Hamish sat in his chair, still in his work clothes, his legs crossed and his chin in his hands, a look of disappointment on his face.

"Sir, I'm ..."

"Get my drink," he ordered, his tone short and rather gruff.

She would have stood there and cried from his harshness if it weren't for Jessie's kind and thoughtful words, and the reminder that he'd visited his mother's grave earlier in the day. "Yes Sir."

After she fixed his drink, she handed it to him, removed his work shoes and replaced them with his slippers then got into position on the floor beside his chair. Please, please don't be upset.

"You're late," he said, his voice less harsh. "You will be punished for this."

Looking straight ahead, she replied, "No Sir. You're early." Shut up. Shut UP! Not now, Gayle. He doesn't need your smart mouth right now.

Taking a sip of his drink, he glared down on her. Hell, you look amazing, lass. A lovely site on such a fucked up day. "If I doth say it is the moon, yet it is the sun, it shall be the moon to you."




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 13



Without thinking, she turned to look at him, confused. Then it dawned on her. Quoting exactly from Shakespeare, she replied, "And if you please to call it a rush candle, henceforth I vow it shall be so for me."

He smiled broadly and took a hold of her chin, rubbing his thumb across it. "You are familiar with 'Taming of the Shrew.' I'm impressed."

She nodded, not sure if he wanted her to talk. Taking a chance, she said, "I had to read it in English Comp my first year in college. I didn't fully understand it until I saw the movie with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. Classic movie!"

"I beg to differ. Robert Burns' poetic words are all one needs to live by."

"Oh, no. It's –" She paused and grinned sheepishly. "Aye, that it is, m'lord, m'king."

He chuckled, and his face appeared five years younger. "Don't ruin it. We were having a moment."

"A moment that doth fadeth as beauty doth fadeth from a beautious rose attached to ... Ah, screw it." She laughed, and he laughed along with her.

Kissing her softly, he said, "Sit between my legs."

She frowned a second before she complied and sat down, all the tension she was feeling earlier that morning vanished, though she couldn't explain it. Not sure how to get comfortable, he instructed her to lean against one of his legs. Resting her head on her arm which she had on his one thigh, he took her other hand and placed it on his other thigh. She finally relaxed and stared up at him.

Taking one more sip of his drink, he placed the glass on the side table. "I have to tell you the kiss and send off you gave me this morning made the day a little easier," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if it was difficult to admit.

"I'm glad, Sir." She didn't know what else to say. Apparently her actions spoke volumes.

She was relieved his expression was more sedate; even his eyes appeared warmer, though they were still a little red and swollen. He leaned back and ran his hand through her hair. Tilting her head, she welcomed his touch and closed her eyes, a smile creeping over her lips.

"And what did you and Jessie cook up for dinner?" he asked a moment later, still playing with her hair.

"Your favorite, Sir. Steak Balmoral, of course. The potatoes need to bake for fifteen minutes, though. Jessie made lemon shortbread cookies too."

He smiled. "I look forward to it." He cupped her face by her cheeks and leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with her. "Do you know what else I look forward to?" he asked, his voice husky and sexy.

Her cheeks blushed red and burned fire-hot, knowing exactly what he wanted. She nodded and slid her hand from his thigh to his crotch. Just as her fingertips were about to touch the small bulge in his trousers, he grabbed her hand roughly and pushed it away.

"Nu-uh. That's not what I was referring to," he admonished her, though his voice was soft.

Frowning, she looked at him, like she was in trouble. He shook his head with a slight grin and slid his hands to her neck, circling his thumbs as he went. She stretched her neck upward so he could cover every inch of her skin because she needed his touch, an affirmation that she'd done well.

His eyes burrowed into her own, and she found it hard to breathe as his hands continued southward until they cupped her breasts. She had difficulty keeping her eyes open as the coolness of his hands made her nipples perk right up, her aureoles erupting in response.

Her lips parted as she gasped heavily when he pinched and twisted a nipple, pulled it out as far as it would go before releasing it. Every nerve ending from her breasts shot straight to her pussy, causing the nerves on the surface of her cunt to expand. She found it difficult to keep eye contact with him as the new sensation took all of her concentration. Before she could take another breath, he pinched, twisted, and squeezed harder then pulled her nipple back, having the same result as this first.

"Oh ... hmmph," she mumbled.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice almost distant.

She nodded. "Hmm, yes Sir."

Placing one hand on her shoulder, he pulled her closer to him as he bent over slightly, his other hand moving over her stomach to her pussy. "Open your legs."

As she did, her heart began to pound hard when he kissed her earlobe, flicking the tip of his tongue over it before trailing his lips to hers. Her mouth already hanging open, their lips smashed together in a heated passion they had never experienced before. Their tongues danced together, neither knowing where it would be until they found the others.' He rubbed his fingers around her pussy, teasing her first before gathering the moisture that had begun to gather and rubbed the pad of his middle finger in the spot between her pussy and her clit.

He whispered, his breath washing over her neck, "Your spot right there ..." She moaned softly as he applied pressure to it, "... feels like silk, so smooth, so wet. Feel that?"

She nodded again, trying to remain in control of her body, which she was beginning to lose as he slid his finger up over her clit with little pressure to the hood. Kissing her neck and collarbone, he pressed hard when he found the little nub. Circling the hardened nerve, he began to tease her by alternating between a soft touch and a hard graze.

She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her body was rendered numb as her mind relinquished to what he was making her feel.

"Hmmph. Sirrr, please don' stop," she murmured breathlessly.

"Would you like to come, little dove?"

His breath washed over her ear, sending shivers throughout her entire body. She was able to move her arm up and around to his waist, holding onto him with all of her might. Realizing he'd asked her a question, she had to ask herself if she was ready. When she didn't answer quickly enough, he flicked the tip of his finger over her clit until she gasped.

"Yes. Yessss. Please, Sir." He went back to slowly manipulating her hardened nub, purposely teasing her relentlessly.

"Yes, what?" he asked. "Say it."

She would have gotten mad with him if she wasn't in the position she was in. "Please, Sir, I need to come."

His finger drifted down to her opening, and he grinned when he felt she was even more wet than when he was there just minutes earlier. "Hmm, I don't really feel your sincerity, Gayle."

You bastard! Can't you feel how wet you've made me?! Of course I want to come!

Knowing he had her right where he wanted her, he inserted two fingers inside of her and hooked the tips of his fingers over her g-spot. She was making him insane as her hot breath drifted over his ear before she took the fleshy bit and nibbled on it.

She almost screamed before she bit her bottom lip to stop herself. Pulling her head back, she looked him directly in his eyes and pleaded, "Sir, please. Make me come." She took several shallow intakes of air before she could continue. "If it pleases you, Sir, please make me come," she whined.

"That it would. On the count of three, you may come for me."

Three?! I can't hold out that long!

For several seconds he massaged her g-spot, again alternating between fast and slow. "Relax your head, Gayle. I want you to feel nothing but what I'm doing to you."

As she did, he put his free hand on her back and massaged her softly while the fingers of his other hand continued teasing her.

"Hmmphgddd," she gurgled, finding it hard to fight off the impending orgasm she desperately craved.

"Ready?"

"Hmphgddyessss."

He grinned at her response. "One."

Placing the pad of his thumb on her hard, erect clit, he slowly increased the flicking of his fingers inside of her. "Two."

He slowed down his pace before speeding up again. Her hips began to buck up as he began to finger fuck her, her moans and groans increasing in both frequency and volume.

"Hold it," he barked, knowing how close she was.

She groaned in frustration but forced the orgasm back as best as she could.

"Two and a half." He grinned wickedly, knowing he was driving her to the edge in a downright evil way.

You bastard! "Please. PLEASE!" she begged, whining loudly.

With his fingers inside of her, he could feel her vaginal walls contracting, and his cock twinged in response. Oh, how he wanted to be inside her, his dick feeling that instead of his fingers.

"THREE!"

The orgasm came two seconds later, her hips rising as she buried her face into his thigh, finding her teeth biting down ever so slightly at his muscled flesh to stifle her scream. As her body spasmed in wild convulsions, she moaned and groaned, a guttural scream escaping her lips.

"That's it. Let it out."

As her orgasm slowly ebbed away, her breathing became less labored but her heart still pounded hard. "Oh, shhhh ..." she muttered.

Hamish kissed Gayle on her forehead. "That is what I was looking forward to," he whispered in her ear.

Pulling her head back, she smiled up at him shyly, her eyes trailing over his crotch, a prominent bulge obviously screaming for release of its own. She was shocked, pleasantly so, at how good he made her feel, but she knew he'd also want, needed to come himself.

Getting on her knees with no protest from him, she slowly ran her hands up the inside of his thighs until they were an inch from his cock. Taking her hands, he pushed them away.

"As much as I would love your hot mouth around my cock, I think tonight I'd just like to lie in my bed holding you in my arms."

Her eyebrows furrowed, not understanding why he didn't want her. "Why?"

He smiled. "Ms. Boyce, if a Dom has no control over himself, he can never control his sub. But I'm touched that you want to."

She was sure that would make sense if her brain wasn't all mushy. "Okay," she replied disappointed.

"Now, go set the table while I go change."

Nodding, she replied, "I would really like that, too, sleeping in your arms, not set the table." She giggled.

Thursday, August 15th, 2013

As Hamish promised, he gave Gayle his password to get onto his computer so she could email her family. So after she swept the floors, she didn't bother taking a shower, electing to have one after she sent the email. The one she sent to Catelyn was therapeutic, to say the least. She opened up a bit more with her relationship with her boss, though she kept it very low key.

'... He is really fun when we're out. He lightens up a lot. He can be a little uptight at home. I don't know if it's because he's not used to having someone home when he gets in from work or it's me. I mean, you know me! I'm fun, have a great sense of humor and I'm cute! :-)

'Anyways, he told me last night he met a woman, which is good, but he didn't say when his date was, and I sure didn't ask. I mean I'm here to keep his house clean and not look like a bachelor's pad, right?'

Right? she asked herself. Catching the time, she realized she had only half an hour to bathe before Hamish got home. She sent the email then headed upstairs with Bessie beside her. Filling the tub half full, she slipped into the hot water while it continued to fill and clutched her hands to her chest, as if that would stop the confusion in her head ... and her heart. Why was she jealous? Was she even jealous? 

A few minutes later, she turned off the water and her thoughts raced. I need to get over it, and quick ...

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

"Ms. Boyce," Hamish called out as he reached the upstairs hallway.

He had looked in every room downstairs, and since Bessie met him at the door, he knew she was still in the house. He was going to her bedroom but saw the bathroom light on. Peeking in, he grinned when he saw her fast asleep in the tub, her nipples poking through the surface of the water. After he changed out of his business suit, he went back to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, taking a sip of his after-work whiskey.

"Ms. Boyce," he whispered so as not to startle her. Saying her name again, she still hadn't woken, so he traced the top of his fingernail from just above her belly button to the gap between her breasts.

She awoke with a start, the water slushing around her. "Aghh. Hmm." She looked up at Hamish staring down on her. "Oh, Sir. Crap. Sorry. I fell asleep." Sitting up, she asked, "What time is it?"

"Quarter to seven," he replied, his face riddled with anger.

"What?! Oh, shit!" Well, shit a brick. He's already got his drink! Looks like I'll be spending some dreaded time in the dungeon tomorrow night. Lord, protect my ass.

No longer being ashamed with being naked around him, she got out of the tub and dried off; his eyes were glued onto every inch of her body, his eyes conveying lust. Brushing her hair in front of the mirror, very aware he was probably staring at her ass, he stepped up behind her, took the brush and gently ran it through the length of her hair to the ends. He pressed his body against her side and combed through her soft, silky hair from her forehead to the ends. In the mirror, she watched the expression on his face the entire time, especially his smile.

When he was satisfied, he placed the brush on the sink and asked, "So, is my dinner burnt?"

His voice was a little gruff, and she wasn't sure if he was angry or just playing with her. She was under the impression he liked to play mind games with her, not that she minded. Even though he kept her on her toes, she wished she were able to read him easier. It's only been two weeks. What did I expect?

Shaking her head, she turned around to face him, her hands on the sink behind her. "No, Sir. The casserole will be ready at seven, as always."

He didn't reply but tilted his head in curiosity, his eyes glued to her perky, erect nipples. Placing his hands under her breasts and pushing up, he flicked his thumb over the tips of her nipples; they twinged at the touch, as did his cock. Fuck. Down, boy.

"I could forgo dinner if there's something else you'd like to do," he offered, wagging his eyebrows as he placed his hands on her hips.

That small gesture was enough to get her body's attention, and the cursed goosebumps broke out. The truth was she was cramping a little, but she didn't want him to know. It wasn't a topic an employee talks to her boss about ... then again, her situation wasn't exactly the typical boss-employee relationship.

"Sir? If you don't mind, I sorta want to –"

"Oh, I see," he sighed in disappointment. "Another quiet night, then?" She nodded. "So, what shall be your punishment?"

"What?! For not wanting to fuck you?" Whoah, girl! Where the hell did that come from? Oh, right. Hormones.

She was about to explain herself when he stepped back and put his hands on his hips, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. "I was referring to you not being by my chair just now."

Oh, okay. Calm down, hormonal Hannah, she thought and tried not to laugh.

She started to rock her foot back and forth out of nervousness. Only when he gave her a crooked smile did she actually relax. "Um, whatever you feel is appropriate, Sir." 

Well, look at you! All submissive and everything. Maybe you have learned something while you've been under Hamish's scrutiny. Oh, shut up, Evil Gayle.

"Hmm," he mumbled thoughtfully. "Then it will be a difficult work day tomorrow for me to think of something appropriate."

She swallowed hard and nodded.

Putting his hand on her shoulder, he kissed her forehead. "Sir? Why do you keep kissing my forehead?"

His head flew back at her forwardness, but he wasn't angry. "I just like to." That is all you need to know, little dove. "Let's eat. I always think of excellent punishments on a full stomach."

Just leave my body in one piece, boss.

Friday, August 16th, 2013

If Gayle thought Hamish would have a difficult day at work, she was in for a surprise, herself. Despite the fact that Bessie stayed out of her way as she dusted the furniture in the rooms on the main floor and swept the floors, she still had to go back to dust and sweep certain areas again. Her mind was elsewhere.

She just couldn't keep her mind on her duties. All she kept thinking about what the hell he was going to do with her that night for not complying to his demands, which weren't that difficult to follow, if she were being honest with herself. She could have kicked her own ass for being so stupid and not setting her cell phone's alarm, but then again, she thought he'd probably want to kick her ass himself.

And as the day dragged on, her appetite slowly eroded away, as that seemed to be habit.

CUPAR TOWN CENTRE, Hamish's Office

Hamish sat at his desk staring at the blank computer monitor, just as he'd been doing the past twenty minutes. He'd been trying to get his brain in the right place to start the proposal for a client, but the smaller screen in the top right hand corner kept screaming at him for its attention ... as did his bulging cock begging to be released.

Gayle was unusually slow and super-focused on not breaking the knick knacks on the tables as she moved them to dust. If the screen could have been any bigger he would have sworn her hands were shaking, and even her face looked a little pale.

"I should have written a will before I came over here, you know that, Bessie?" she said, throwing the pillows on the couch after fluffing them and placing them neatly by the arm rests. "But then again, the only thing of any value I have are the gold hoop dolphin earrings Granny and Grandad bought me, and that's not a lot, even if there's an emerald on their tails."

He continued to watch and listen in on her private conversation as she cleaned his home, and he loved every minute of it. Even though the chastity belt covered what he really wanted to see, her upside down, heart-shaped ass still beckoned to him as she bent over to flatten out the corner of the area rug. Her breasts shook and swayed lusciously as she moved around with such beauty and grace that he had to unzip his trousers and free his cock before it got bent out of shape from the restriction.

Looking at his watch, he sighed, knowing he had three more hours before he could lay his hands on her. Strategically placed, finely-timed slaps of the riding crop on her ass cheeks, thighs, shins. His hand slowly crept its way to his then hard, throbbing cock and cradled it, letting his imagination run wild. Running his hand slowly up and down his shaft, he closed his eyes as it twitched ...

"Hamish! Bryce is on line two," Neill, his assistant, called out to him.

"Alright!" he muttered and zipped up his trousers. "Fuck it. Gayle, Gayle, Gayle. What are you doing to me?"

Later that evening ...

Gayle and Hamish had just finished eating dinner and were drinking coffee at the table, upon her request. She was hoping the delay tactic would give her enough time to get rid of her nervousness, but it didn't do a damned thing.

"Tell me, what sorts of things did you do on your off time back home, Gayle?" he asked, sipping his whiskey.

"Well, I've been bowling since I was eight, but I had to drop out of the league a few years back. I really miss it. We'd all go camping, which was loads of fun. Mom hated it, though. She'd rather stay in a hotel room than sleep on the ground in a tent. Hanging out with my girlfriends on weekends, but that'd been put on the back burner, too."

"Hmm. So, you'd be up for bowling?" he asked, seemingly excited. "What's your average?"

"It was 183 when I was in the last league. Do you bowl?"

"Do I ... Do I bowl?" His tone had raised a bit which got Bessie's attention, who was sitting at his feet. "Of course I do. My average is 224."

"Very impressive."

"It should be much higher, but due to my shoulder injury, I can't get it any higher," he said seriously.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 13



He might have said it seriously, but something in his eyes told her he wasn't. She was suspicious and wanted to push a bit more.

"So, if I give you a twenty pin lead, do you think maybe we could place a little bet?"

She had no idea why she challenged him, and she tried to find a way to squirm out of what she'd said. Changing position in the chair did nothing but make the metal of the chastity belt dig against her bum.

"You are joking," he said, emphasizing the word 'joke.' "Shouldn't you be the one to have a pin lead?"

"Actually, no, I'm serious." She crossed her toes in hopes he wouldn't take her up on it, considering she knew she had no chance of ever beating anyone with an average that high.

"Oh, Ms. Boyce, you are playing with fire." His eyes narrowed, hoping she wouldn't press the issue any further.

"Sir, I love a good fire," she replied confidently. Shut up, Gayle!

"Alright," he said. "I call your bluff. You're on, lass."

Oh, what have you done, you idiot?!

Leaning back in the chair, he kept eye contact with her as he finished his drink and set it on the table. "Come here," he said, his tone playful yet lustful.

Nervously, she pushed the chair back and went to his chair, trying to prevent her hands from shaking. She just knew her punishment was under way. Smiling, he said, "Turn around."

When she did, he untied the apron and let it fall to the floor. Slowly, he moved his hands down to her ass cheeks and squeezed them a few times before running his flat hands up her back to her shoulders. With the back of his pinkie nail, he traced it back down to the small of her back.

"You have the loveliest bum I have ever seen."

"Hey!" she hollered before she realized she'd said it.

He turned her around quickly and brusquely, keeping his hands on her hips. "Ms. Boyce, that was a compliment," he said softly.

She sighed, looked down at her feet in shame and put her hands behind her. "I'm sorry, Sir." Putting his hand under her chin, he pulled her head up so she would look at him. "I'm not used to compliments, just –"

"Shh. Let it go." He dug into his pocket and pulled out the key to the chastity belt, unlocked it and placed it on the floor. "You've nothing to worry about tonight, Gayle. Clean up and meet me downstairs."

No. No! I want to keep talking! Instead of bickering and delaying, not that it would have done any good anyway, she replied, "Yes Sir."

xx xxx xx xxx xx xxx

Half an hour later, Gayle walked down the cold, hard, concrete steps of the dungeon, an eerie, red glow coming from below her, the crackling of a fire filling her ears. In her mind, all she saw was hell, and Hamish was the devil. Taking the last step, she took in a sharp breath when she saw Hamish standing in the middle of the room, the fire in the fireplace adding much needed warmth to the small room. He had taken his shirt off and was only wearing jeans and an appropriately devilish grin.

Putting out his hand, he said, "Come."

Stepping to him, she grabbed his hand, praying it wasn't shaking. Without a word, she allowed him to secure Velcro handcuffs to her wrists and ankles, her eyes following every move he made. Remaining silent, he then pulled her to him, took her face in his hands and kissed her. She wanted to touch him, to put her hands on his arms, but instead clasped her hands in the small of her back. Being well aware her breasts were flush against his, it was enough for her.

As their kiss grew, she started to lose her breath when his hot, slick tongue traced over her bottom lip. Closing her eyes, she melted into him, letting her tongue find his before he pulled away. She moaned her disapproval, not that she thought it would do any good.

His hands skimmed over her shoulders, forearms, her waist to the small of her back, their eyes locked the entire time. Before she knew what happened, he'd taken her hands and locked one wrist to a hook hanging from the ceiling. Again watching him, he locked her other wrist to the same hook. He tugged on them a few times, satisfied with the little bit of slack before he asked her if she was hurting; she told him she wasn't. It was the perfect height, being that her arm was straight and not too painfully stretched.

Nodding, he got a spreader bar, placed it between her feet and locked the cuffs in place, leaving her legs wide about two feet apart. Since she lost a little height with her legs apart, her arms made it impossible for her to move them even an inch. Standing back up, he again ran his hands over her body, eliciting goose bumps to erupt all over her body.

Closing her eyes, she took a moment to let her body speak to her, for it to tell her brain that she was in no danger, and to force herself to relax. She knew the more tense she was, the worse it would hurt ... whatever he was going to do to her. The heat from the fire warmed her, though she still felt chilled from fear.

He stepped behind her out of her view, so she stared into the fire, as if that would put her in some type of hypnotic mental state. It helped ... until he placed a blindfold over her eyes from behind. He moved it slightly to put it in place, then asked if she could see anything. Without even checking, she shook her head.

He promptly smacked her ass cheek. "Ms. Boyce, when you are in this room, you will use your voice. Do you understand?"

She was speechless for a second before she replied, "Yes Sir."

Suddenly, she sensed him standing before her, and he again asked if she could see anything. She turned her head every which way to see if she could see any light from the fire. She couldn't and told him so.

"Very good. Now, I will not tell you what I will use or when I will use it. This is what punishment is about. It is not to bring pleasure, but a way to reinforce your behavior. In addition, there will be pain involved, I will not lie to you. But I promise you I will not give you more than you can handle. Your safe words are still acceptable, and I expect you to use them. Do you understand?"

She nodded and weakly replied, "Yes Sir."

"Good. Do you know why you are here?"

Yeah, I know why I'm here. Because I accepted your offer back home. "Yes Sir. I wasn't at my place when you came home from work." She was on the verge of tears, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

"Exactly. Will you do it again?" That time when he spoke she knew he was behind her again.

She fisted her hands from nervousness, shook her head then replied, "No Sir, I won't."

An unexpected hard slap met her ass cheek before another slap on the other cheek, and she yelped in surprise. "Hmm. We'll see."

For several agonizing moments, Gayle hung from the rafters – literally – and waited for Hamish's next word or touch. She wanted to call out for him to make sure he was still in the room with her, but she knew that wouldn't be wise. She had to trust him, despite of her current situation.

A cold, soft, flat leather square of something trailed from her shoulder blades to the small of her back before it rested on the fleshiest part of an ass cheek, just above the thigh. She felt the 'whoosh' of air before she felt the smack of the instrument against her ass. It wasn't as hard as she expected it to be, and for that she was grateful. But it had enough power to leave a sharp sting.

"Agghhmmmph," she moaned, trying to remain calm, wanting to keep some composure about her.

Another slap on the other cheek before it alternated in quick succession, each slap becoming harder, the stinging never letting up. He started by hitting a new area each time until he switched it up, hitting the same spots he'd already done, the stinging worsening and beginning to radiate down her legs and up to her shoulders.

When he sensed her discomfort he stopped, put the riding crop on the floor and ran his hands over her ass cheeks, hoping it helped with the sting and pain. She moaned softly, telling him what he wanted to know. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his lips in her neck, giving her kisses all over until she threw her head back and tilted it, hoping to feel his lips against hers.

Pulling back, he scolded her. "Now, now. I'm not done with you yet."

She groaned under her breath and got a hold on the chains she was dangling from to brace herself for more. The truth was while her ass did indeed sting, she could take more, but she didn't want him to know that.

"How is the pain?"

"It's fine, Sir."

"I'm going to take it up a notch. It is your responsibility to tell me if the pain becomes unbearable. It is my responsibility to ensure you are not hurt."

She let his words sink in, and she nodded. "I understand, Sir."

Smiling, he walked to the wall where his toys were hung and looked them over thoughtfully, trying to figure out which one he wanted to use next. When he saw the Lochgelly Tawse – one long, leather strip, about twelve inches long and four inches wide, each split in the middle, held together by a round, metal handle – he smiled. 

Perfect, but be easy on her, ole' boy. 

Gripping it in his hand, he went to Gayle, who was standing rigidly, grasping the chain above her head. Even though the fire was still burning strongly, her nipples were hard and screaming for attention. Standing in front of her, he bent over and attacked her pointy nipple with his lips, pinching and nibbling until he heard her moan softly. Looking up, her head was back, her mouth hung open, her chest slightly red, and her breathing coming fast. He had her right where he wanted her.

Taking it entirely into his mouth, he began to suck hard on her nipple as he ran his middle finger over her pussy, which he was thrilled to feel was drenched. Flicking the pad over her clit, she began to gasp, seemingly losing her breath. It didn't escape his attention when her nipple pulsed in his mouth, and once again his hardening cock responded.

Pulling his head back, he told her, "Control your breathing. And you will not come."

Her head shook back and forth as her knees buckled from under her, but she forced herself to breathe in slower. Although she really tried to fight it, she failed. Hamish picked up on it, too. We'll save the orgasm control for later.

Standing back up, he clasped her face in his hands. "Gayle, take a deep breath through your nose."

When she did, he told her to exhale slowly through her mouth and to repeat it several times. It seemed to help her, and she released her death grip on the chain. Giving her a quick kiss, he told her, "Good girl. That's it. Better?"

"Yesss Sir," she sighed, biting her bottom lip.

At that point, he felt he had brought her down enough that she could continue. So he stood beside her, took the tawse and ran about two inches of its length from the top of her shoulders down to her calves, then brought it back up to her ass cheeks.

Her body tensed and waited for the impact of this strange, new torture device – okay, so it wasn't as torturous as she thought it would be; she actually enjoyed it, if she were honest with herself. It surprised the shit out of her how turned on she got, but she couldn't be sure if it was because she was completely restrained and at his mercy, or she allowed herself to accept her body's response of the mild pain that he inflicted. Either way, she had totally submitted to him.

Just as she had come to terms with her current predicament, a long, narrow slap landed across both of her ass cheeks, not hard, but enough to bring back the stinging from the first device. She cried out, a short, high-pitched wail gasp that caused Hamish to pause for a moment.

Affectionately, he rubbed her cheeks where two bright pink bands began to leave its mark. He so wanted to ask her if she was okay, but he didn't want to show any weakness – and he had plenty of weakness he felt he needed to hide. Yet, at no time did he feel he crossed the line with her, but he wanted to push her a bit further.

Lightly, he patted the tawse across the thickest part of her thigh, then on the outside before doing the same to her other thigh. She sighed loudly and held onto the chain again, bracing herself. Knowing she was ready for more, he began to paddle more areas of her thighs, calves, lightly on her shoulders then back to her ass cheeks. He gave her one smack harder than any of the others, across both cheeks.

Again he paused to gauge her reaction, and that time her shoulders shuddered, and she sniffled, but she didn't cry out, didn't protest, didn't even call out her safe word. She responded in a way he wasn't expecting, not so early in her training, anyway: After each impact, she would pull her hips away from him, but a split second later would push her ass out for more.

The fact that she was crying was enough to tell him she had enough, regardless of the fact she hadn't called her safe word. Putting the tawse on the floor, he stood in front of her and took her face in his hands, pulling her head forward so he could see her whole face.

"My little dove?"

"Hmm?" she whispered.

Oh, she was out of it, that much he knew. "Are you still with me?"

"Mmm hmm." Her head nodded like it was a bobble doll, but he held it firm.

Alright, you're a little farther gone than I thought. Maybe it's enough.

"More."

His head flew back in shock. "What did you say, Gayle?" He wasn't sure if he heard her correctly.

"Sir? More, please."

He shook his head, not wanting to push her too far, but also curious how much she could take. He took off her blindfold and waited patiently for her to open her eyes so she could look at him, though she indeed had trouble focusing. He let go of her to see if she could still hold her own.

"Little dove, I am so proud of you. But I don't want to push you too far, either."

She nodded. "I know," she muttered, trying to find her voice. "It was ... I liked it. I want more ..."

"I don't know." He wanted to object further, but the look in her eyes was slowly eroding his resolve. "Were you close to coming?"

"No, not after ... No."

"Which did you like better? The first or the second toy?"

"The first one ... That one was ... better."

"You liked the riding crop?"

Her eyes flew open. "Is that what that was?" She had finally found her voice and herself. "Damn."

He laughed, which made her smile. "If it's what you want. Can you take it harder?"

"No Sir. Just ... more."

He took her desires to heart. "Alright. Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes. Yes. Oh, yes, Sir." She nodded as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I'll be more diligent."

He kept smiling. "You, my love, have more strength in you than I gave you credit for. Do you want the blindfold on again?"

"No Sir, if you don't want me to wear it."

"No, no, Gayle. You've taken your punishment well. I'm giving you the choice."

Do I? Do I really want to see, to watch? Will it feel different if I do watch? "No Sir. Please leave it off."

"Fine."

Stepping back, he looked over her face again and felt confident she knew what she wanted. But he had something in mind he didn't think she'd expect. Her ass was already reddened nicely, so he didn't want to cause any pain there.

Picking up the tawse, he went to put it back, but she asked, "Sir? What is that?" When he told her what it was, she looked at it like it was a snake. "Um, I give that a seven out of ten."

He laughed. "And the riding crop?"

"Hmm. A seven and a half." She giggled then rolled her eyes.

Giving her a quick kiss, "You do make me laugh."

"I like making you laugh, Sir."

"Don't stop."

A minute later, he was standing in front of her holding the riding crop, though not threateningly. "Gayle, I'm going to use this on your breasts. Are you ready?"

She nodded. "Yes Sir."

"Good girl."

Stepping back the length of the crop, he lightly tapped the top of her breast then the other, watching her facial expression. She took in a sharp breath, but that was all to indicate any pain she couldn't handle. He slapped each again, over and over until her mouth hung open, and her breathing was a little heavy. Her breasts were a pretty pink, just as her ass was.

Trailing the edge of the leather pad down between her breasts to her belly button, he suddenly patted her nipple. She gasped loudly and wiggled her torso, but the fact it perked right up, he knew she could take more.

TAP!

SLAP!

TAP!

"Hmmgh ..." she moaned from the back of her throat.

He kept it up until her moans and grunts filled the room, but she was pulling back away from him, her body not begging for more, and her face turned a bright red, which wasn't a good sign. She was done. That he knew. But what if ...

Bringing the leather pad away, he slapped the inside of her thigh then the other. She gasped again, closed her eyes and began to pant, not from the pain, but because she was afraid where the next strike would be. And she was right. The pad landed flat over her clit, and that time she cried out and tried to bring her knees together, though she couldn't.

"Gayle, what is your color?" he asked.

Purple. Orange. Chartreuse! "Green, Sir."

"Good."

He then struck the inside of her thighs, but this time increased the strength just a little. Her reaction was the same, so he again struck her clit with one swift 'thwap.'

"Aaaggghhh," she muttered and again tried to bring her knees together. "Yellow. Yellow."

Pleased that she had spoken up for herself, he got down on his knees. "Keep your eyes closed, Gayle. This won't hurt a bit."

"Sir?! No! Please! I can't ta – ooohhhhh."

He silenced her when he parted her labia and dove onto her clit, nibbling and suckling on it to hopefully take the sting down. He reveled in hearing her groaning and the gyration of her hips, telling him it was exactly what she needed. Keeping his fingers away from her pussy, she licked and flicked his tongue over the hardened nub until she was screaming.

Taking a quick second to tell her she could come when she wanted, he took her clit between his teeth, bit down slightly and pulled, though not hard or far. Staying glued onto it, he suckled until she screamed out, "Ohhh, fuuuuck!"

Hamish never let up, even though the noise of the chains drowned out Gayle's cries of pleasure, and he could see her legs shaking as the violent, strong orgasm shot through her.

She felt like her brain was boiling over inside her skull as she came, every muscle seizing angrily. Holding onto the chain above her head, she fought it as if that would disengage Hamish's lips from her pussy. As her climax drained away, her clit began super sensitive and could no longer take any touch.

"Sirsirsir ... No. No! Enough!" she hollered out, though she wasn't in pain.

With one final lick, he massaged her thighs and looked up at her with a smile. She was smiling right back down at him, and for a second they connected in a way they hadn't before.

"Sorry. Sorry," she panted. "It's just –"

"Shh," he cooed. "I'm going to free your ankles. You'll want to bring them together slowly."

She nodded and watched him do so, all the while trying to catch her raspy, fast breath. Smacking her thighs, she carefully brought her feet together, grunting and groaning the entire time.

Standing, he asked, "Now, the tricky part. How are your legs holding up?"

"Fine," she grumbled, and her voice was distant; at least he thought so.

Pressing his chest against her breasts, her nipples still perky, he smiled at her as he unhooked her wrists. She tried to bring them down, but he held onto her hands. "No. Let me. You don't want your arm muscles to tighten up too much."

Planting her feet firmly to the floor, she allowed him to bring her arms down, and she grunted until they were at her sides. Before she could move, he slipped his arm around her waist and helped her to the couch. After she sat down, he sat down beside her with his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and held onto him for dear life.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 14



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to those that sent private emails and commented on Lit. Every suggestion is taken to heart, and a few of those you will see here, but they are only a taste of 'things to come.' 

Thanks to my editor, JonB1969 for his eyeballs. And Special thanks to Masterswench for this chapter.

We last left G & H on Friday night after her punishment (that seems to be a theme, doesn't it?). Hamish has some dates with another woman coming up, but how will he handle himself – more importantly, how will Gayle handle it?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sunday, August 18th, 2013, St. Andrews Golf Club, Scotland

"Well, well, well," Jack teased Hamish as they dried off by the lockers after taking showers. "Looks like someone's been hitting the gym, ye?"

They had just finished a round of golf, and Hamish was still sour at losing. Poor Hamish kept choking on his shots, but he had a chance to tie by the seventeenth hole. Sadly, luck wasn't on his side. He couldn't have hit the cup if he had a string attached to it, used Jimmy Adams' personal golf club, or threw it in by hand. He finished with a bogey while Jack made a beautiful chip and run, ending with a birdie.

"Oh, shut up," Hamish chastised his friend, his cheeks turning red as a beet.

The truth was, hehad been working out on his lunch breaks, and he was damned proud of his miniscule biceps that were just starting to peak through. He was expecting a bit more, but it had only been a week. The fact that Jack noticed irked him a little, being he didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

"So, mate, how is Gayle feeling? How's her blood pressure been?" Jack asked as he dried himself off, throwing the towel on the bench between them and pulling on his boxers and trousers.

"She's just fine. Thanks for asking," he replied sarcastically, zipping up his own trousers.

"Huh. Hit a nerve, did I?" Jack asked with a grin.

Hamish shot him a nasty glare as he put on his Tattersall checked shirt and started to button it. "Bullocks. She knows her place." 

Bloody hell! Is that all she is to you? 

"Knows her place? Come on! I know you better than that. Why don't you just cancel this brunch date with Brianna and go home to Gayle? Lily won't be happy about her best friend being stood up, but she'll get over it. I'll buy her a diamond or something – my wife, not Bri."

Hamish had just put on his shoes, stuffed the last of his belongings into his locker and slammed it shut. Running his fingers through his damp hair, he said, "Jack, you know the score. I need a wife, preferably someone not American." He didn't feel the need to tell his buddy his business – at least regarding something he was grappling over himself.

Jack straightened the collar of his shirt and laughed, patting Hamish on his shoulder. "Yeah, I know the score. I kicked your ass. And keep telling yourself that." 

Jack knew Hamish better than Hamish wished to admit, and he hated him for that. The question Hamish had to ask himself was whether Jack had a point.

"Hurry up, old man. I'll meet you outside the restaurant," Hamish snipped and left.

Hamish looked at his watch, relieved to see he had a few minutes before Brianna and Lily were to show up. Standing by the large plate-glass window of the clubhouse, he stared out at the grassy, low dune and shoreline for several minutes. The water was calm and an incredible blue, but he couldn't put off his trepidation about his first date with Brianna. 

He told Gayle he was meeting with Jack's wife and her girlfriend after the game, and her reaction was a little strange. She seemed excited and ribbed him playfully, even laying out a business suit from his closet on his bed while he was in the shower that morning. Because she wasn't jealous like he thought she would be – or wanted her to be – it prompted a rather harsh spanking for her, and her giggling told him that she enjoyed it, even though she denied it. 

Sighing, he pulled out his cell phone and started to text.

'what are you doing'

Only a second went by before he received, 'playin' w/bessie outside while ur jeans r drying Sir. beat jack?'

'Of course i did.' He couldn't help but smirk at his lie. 'computer-PW for user McDougal PW Maldives so you can Skpe home. i should be home around 3. wait for me in the back garden'

'yes Sir. have a good lunch'

"Hamish!" a woman called out.

Not replying to Gayle, he slipped his phone into his pocket and turned to see Lily and Brianna walk toward him. Jack said she was a beauty, but he concluded he was just being nice because she was his wife's girlfriend. And, damn it, Brianna was stunning, unfortunately. He hoped he wouldn't be attracted to her. Wisps of her short-cropped, strawberry blonde red hair framed her face beautifully, which had a few freckles here and there. Her shoulders were broad yet feminine, but didn't detract from her height, which was probably an inch or two shorter than him. And she had a killer body. If he were still at uni, he'd absolutely make a fool of himself fawning over her.

"Don't you two look ravishing," he said with a smile, kissing Lily on her cheek.

"Hamish, always the charmer and still handsome as ever. Jack's running late, is he? I swear, that man will be late for his own funeral. Hamish, this is Brianna."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Brianna," he said, putting out his hand.

She took his hand, and with her strong grip pulled him to her as she moved in. Kissing him on his cheek, she said, "It's nice to meet you too. Call me Bri." 

While she had the voice of an angel, he was caught off guard by her assertiveness, not that it was too unwelcome. He always admired a strong woman, but not too strong. They chatted for a few minutes, with an obviously impatient Lily.

"Ah, there are my women!" Jack chimed in as she stepped beside Lily and gave her a quick kiss. 

Shaking her head, Lily put her arm around his waist. "We've just arrived. Our reservations are for one, and we're already late, as always, thanks to you."

"Hey, I'm a doctor. We're always late," Jack teased.

"Let's go, then," Bri said as she intertwined her arm with Hamish's and led him to the restaurant.

Hamish had always been affectionate, despite the lack of motherly love, and a cold father. But when her warm hand touched him, he felt something ... something that he didn't want to feel. 

Halfway through the meal, Hamish had become riveted with Bri. She was gorgeous, smart, funny, came from a good home, gorgeous ... and of course Hamish Jr. thought so too.

"Excuse me a moment," Hamish said as he stood. "I have to make a phone call."

Stepping outside on the deck, the sun beaming down on his face, he took out his cell phone and started typing.

'change of plans. meet me in your bedroom at 3.3'

'yes Sir. should I have ur drink ready 4 u?'

'no. wait for me naked on your bed. all fours'

Her response took several long moments. 'yes Sir'

Walking back to the table in the dining room, he had a big shit-eating grin on his face. He knew it wasn't the one drink he'd had that made him come up with such a wicked plan. It might have been the fact that Bri's breasts were basically flowing out of her thin sweater. All he knew was that his cock was hard, throbbing and painful, and he needed Gayle.

HAMISH'S HOME, moments later ...

When Gayle saw the word 'naked' on her cell phone, she grinned sheepishly. She knew what he had in mind, and she was relieved. While she'd been doing the laundry, she kept thinking about how Hamish had made her feel two days earlier when she received her 'punishment.' As far as she was concerned, it wasn't punishment, not in the least. She was beginning to thrive on the way her body reacted when he did whatever he wanted to with her, especially when he allowed her to orgasm. It was freeing and very exhilarating.

The metal of the chastity belt was beginning to aggravate her to the point of wanting to ask David for a chain saw to get the damned thing off. As soon as she heard the command 'all fours,' her clit throbbed, and she was shocked to see she was becoming wet.

Just after 3:00 ...

A few minutes before the allotted time, Gayle got on her bed on her knees, her shoulders and chin to the mattress, facing the clock. Aside from not being able to control her heart from pounding inside her chest, she couldn't control the wetness between her legs, which had been building up while she got prepared.

A quarter after, she was still alone, and by then her heart had calmed down, and she was becoming a little angry at him for not being on time. How inconsiderate! I know I was late getting your drink, but do you really think this will teach me a lesson?

She stared at a sleeping Bessie, who was curled up at the side of the bed soon after she got bored staring at her human buddy, wanting to play. 

"Sorry, poochers. Daddy doesn't want you on the bed," she'd told her, though Gayle had let her up more than once. "You've gotten in the way before."

Her mind then wandered to Hamish's date, hoping maybe he had a really bad time. Sure, she had teased him, just to see how far she could get with him. He seemed to have a sense of humor about it. But her own was a farce. She didn't want him to know she was a little jealous. 

Oh, stop it, you ass!

Suddenly, Bessie perked her head up then dashed out of the room barking. Gayle's heart started to race again, her entire body tensing. A full ten minutes went by before she heard Hamish's heavy footsteps come toward her room accompanied by Bessie's clicking nails.

Oh God. Oh God! she thought, fisting her hands.

The wood floor creaked right in front of her door which made her hold her breath. Several agonizing seconds went by before she heard him whisper, "Fucking lovely."

What could she say to that? 

He came into the room and stopped by her feet opposite of where her head was turned. SMACK! She yelped in a painful cry with his surprise assault on her ass, though again she didn't say anything. He ran his hand – his ice cold hand – up her calf, her thigh then her ass to the small of her back before his other hand made the same route. He wrapped his arms around her waist, unlocked the chastity belt, carefully removed it then placed it on the floor. Again, he caressed her backside slowly, placing a kiss in the nape of her neck.

"Ms. Boyce, I appreciate your efforts in getting in the correct position, but bring your knees up 'til they touch your stomach." His voice wasn't angry or gruff, simply authoritative.

Oh my God! You smack me for that?! And hell! My ass will be on the ceiling if I do that!

Complying, she kept her hands fisted and tried to calm down, loosening her muscles so she wouldn't cramp up. Holding her breath, she let it out when his hand stroked the cleft above her ass before running his fingers over her crotch. She moaned as his fingers skimmed over her drenching pussy.

"What do we have here? You are wet, little dove. How did that happen?"

She couldn't believe how speechless she was. She waited too long to answer, she discovered, when he smacked her ass again. "Let's try this again. Why are you so wet?"

Learning her lesson, she replied, "Waiting for you, Sir."

"Hmm, is that so?" SMACK! FWAP! "And what have you been thinking?"

Nothing. Nothing. SLAP! SMACK! Damn it! She closed her eyes tightly to fight back the tears, moaning loudly. 

Bessie threw her front paws on the bed; Hamish fussed at her to get down and shook his head. He didn't want her to ruin the mood as she'd done before, but he didn't have the heart to kick her out of the room just yet.

"Wwwwondering what you were going to do to me, Sir." Her ass rocked in pain, as if that would ease the stinging.

Again he caressed her ass, loving the softness, feeling the heat. "Oh, I know what I'm going to do to you, my little chipmunk," he cooed devilishly.

She was starting to like his little terms of endearment, as well as his control over her.

"But first, there's something I want you to do for me," he said, his voice heavy with lust as he walked around the other side of the bed. "Kneel at my feet."

Her heart caught in her throat as her face reddened. Slowly unfolding her body, she stood up and was just about to get on her knees when he put his hands on her face, stopping her descent.

"You are bloody precious when you blush," he said with a grin.

Her cheeks reddened further then she smiled. Not knowing whether he wanted an answer or not, she whispered, "I'm surprised you make me blush, Sir."

His eyes skirted back and forth, holding her gaze; his own cheeks began to feel warm. Smiling, he glided his hands to the back of her head, buried his fingers in her hair and pressed his lips against hers. Her lips parted, welcoming the softness, the warmness and softly moaning before his tongue went in search of hers. 

Leaning into him, her breasts flattened against his shirt, and she wished he were naked so she could feel his warmth, his heart beating against hers, his passion that she had missed. She dared to bring her hands to his forearms, but he grabbed them firmly and placed them on the collar.

"Getting a little brazen, aren't you?" he asked. 

"I ... I'm sorry, Sir."

He shook his head. "I like that you want to touch me, but right now, undress me."

Her heart skipped a beat – she'd never undressed a man before. Forcing her fingers to stop shaking, she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, keeping her eyes on the shirt out of nervousness. Reaching the waist of his trousers, she pulled at the hem up and out until it lay loose. Then she stepped beside him and slipped the sleeve out, then the other. 

Laying the shirt on the bed, he shook his head and tsk'd. "Hang it up," he said, removing his cotton undershirt.

She was too embarrassed to say anything. Instead, she quickly hung it up in her armoire and returned to him, sitting on the bed. Slipping her fingers under the waist of the trousers, she pushed and pulled at the waist trying to unhook it but had trouble. 

Hell, woman! You've hung his pants up! Why can't you remove the damned thing?

"Here, let me get that for you," he said softly, his voice then deep and rife with lust.

Finally unhooked, she pulled the material down over his hips to his feet, cringing when she saw how hard his cock was, straining against the fabric of the cotton briefs. She swallowed hard as he lifted each leg, forcing herself to look at what she was doing, not his cock. Quickly hanging the pant up, she turned to walk back but stopped in her tracks and stared at him with her mouth practically hanging open. 

He had taken off the underwear, which lay at the foot of the bed, and his cock had sprung free in all its glory. She couldn't remember his dick being that big before, but it didn't matter, not in the least. 

"Come," he whispered, his hand out.

Bessie, who was sitting at the door, wagged her tail and came running to her Daddy. "Oh, not ..." Walking to the door, he said, "Out."

Gayle was crushed for Bessie, though she appreciated he didn't want her to remain. "Sir? I've got a bone in your bedroom. Maybe ..."

Hamish turned to Gayle, smiling. As he walked into the hall, Bessie in step behind him, she couldn't help but look at his ass. She didn't think Scots were known for their tight, squeezable asses, but her boss sure helped change her mind. Being that he hadn't told her where to stand, she stayed where she was. 

Hearing his bedroom door close, he walked back into the room and sat on the bed. "Kneel."

Her pussy tingled before her heart started to pound. It was funny to her how her body responded to his commands in such a way. Nervously, she shuffled her feet as she approached him, her hands behind her back.

"Stop!" he shouted, which made her jump a little. "Go back to the armoire and try that again."

Frowning, she asked confused, "Sir?"

"Ms. Boyce, no lady walks like she was born in a barn. Walk proudly, like a proper lady."

Oh. I don't think my ass can take another spanking. Going back, she propped her chin up, pulled her shoulders back, put her hands in the small of her back, although it was awkward with her breasts sticking out so much, and went to him, stopping at his feet.

She was just about to kneel when he smiled. "Much better. Good girl."

Reaching out, he cupped each breast and squeezed the already hardened nipples, causing her to moan softly and close her eyes. He slid his hands to her neck then massaged her skin on his way down her arms to her hips. The dreaded goose bumps erupted with his every touch, and as she opened her eyes, she shivered.

Smiling up at her, he said, "Kiss me." Suddenly turning shy, she bent over slightly, her lips parted, but he grabbed her face gently. "I wish it was you I was eating lunch with today, Gayle."

"I do too." Wait, what the hell?! 

"Gayle, I don't want you to feel trapped here. I know you've been here only two weeks, but I want you to think of things to keep you busy on the weekends. Autumn is usually a busy time for me at work and with football, and I don't want you too bored. Let me know what you come up with, and we'll discuss them." 

She was pleasantly surprised. "Thank you, Sir. That's kind of you."

"Now, where were we?" He hesitated a moment. "Oh, right. That kiss."

Her cheeks burning, she was frozen in place. Taking control, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him. He was so forceful she almost lost her footing, but he had a good hold on her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he clasped onto her fingers and tilted his head up, his eyes gazing into hers until their lips touched. Closing her eyes, she melted into him and welcomed his embrace, his warm, soft lips. 

They kissed hard and passionately before he pulled back. "Kneel."

Breathlessly, she got on her knees with his help and kept her upper body straight, again keeping her head down submissively. 

Several tense, heated moments passed before he said, "Suck." Her heart skipped a beat as she reached her hand out for his cock. "No hands. Use your mouth."

Oh my god! You're torturing me! 

Pushing back her anxiety, she opened her mouth and lapped the bottom of the head with her tongue, going from side to side a few times before it twitched up. She tasted the pre-cum that moistened the tip, so looking up at him, she used just the tip of her tongue to lick it off. He smiled down on her with an evil gleam in his eyes.

Keeping her eyes on his, she took the head between her lips and flicked the tip with her tongue again then used her tongue to lick all the way around it. He took in a sharp breath between his teeth as his dick throbbed; he leaned back and put his hands on the bed.

"Hmm, that feels good. Don't take it all, just the head. I want you to beg for my cock."

Concentrating on the tip, she gave it all of her attention. Changing her technique, her pussy aching, she was shocked when she felt a dribble of her moisture trail down the inside of her thigh. She had never been so turned on before since she'd been there, and she didn't know how long she could take not feeling his enormous dick inside her.

Only a minute passed before she yearned to take all of him, so she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sir? I need your cock in my mouth."

Smiling, he shook his head. Just to spite him, she took the tip back into her mouth, closed her lips as much as she could and sucked on it until her cheeks shrunk in, groaning to allow him to feel the vibration.

"Fuck, woman!" he gasped. "Take it. Take it now."

It didn't take you very long there, boss! She snickered to herself.

Without delay, she slowly slid his cock into her mouth, again keeping her eyes on him. She loved seeing his reaction as she took control of his cock, so she spent only a minute or two before he gripped the hair on the back of her head and helped guide her as she worked his cock. 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 14



"Yes, yes. That's it." 

Pushing her head down, he tested how much she could take. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt the tip press just in the back of her throat. Not gagging, he could see her visibly relax and tried to take more, though that time she did gag. Pulling back a little, she teased his entire length with her tongue before her lips reached the base of his cock.

"Shit. That feels good. Don't stop. Don' ... stop," he growled. "Use your hand."

A shiver went through her as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft and worked it up and down as she continued to suck and tease his cock.

Another minute passed before he grabbed her head and forcefully, yet gently pushed it back. "No. I'm too close to coming." 

He patted his thigh, and she knew exactly what he wanted. He put his legs together, and with his help, she wrapped her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was well aware of his hard cock pressing against her saturated pussy, but she didn't allow it to enter her.

When he didn't set her down on his cock, she thought he was angry. "Is this alright, Sir?" she asked shyly, though her voice was raspy.

"Oh, yes," he replied.

He got a firm hold of her hips and slipped his hand between them until his thumb pressed against her clit. "Hmm. Sir, fuck, please. I want to feel you inside me. Please. PLEASE?"

"How much do you want to feel me fill you, little dove?"

"I'd give up chocolate to fuck you right now." He laughed, and she shook her head. "I can't believe I said that."

"Stop. As you wish, my little dove," he cooed.

With his hands on her ass, he pushed up until her pussy opened up for him, and he let her fall onto his rigid, throbbing cock. Both moaning, she took all of him without any hesitation. 

"Your cunt is so hot. You are ready for me, aren't you?"

Nodding, she moaned, "Oooh, fuck, yes. I ... You ... You feel sooo good."

Both getting a grip of the other, she gyrated her hips back and forth, allowing his pubic hair to rub up against her clit, adding friction that made her whimper. 

For the next several minutes, she took control of the speed and how deeply she took him, and she knew he liked it from the sounds he was making. Wanting more of him, she smashed her breasts against his chest, crushed her lips against his and kissed him hungrily, which he returned two-fold.

Their breathing in sync, he started to pump his hips as she ground into him, both quickly reaching climax. Needing to cum badly, she tightened her grip of his cock with her PC muscles, holding it a moment before letting go.

"Yes. YES! FUCK ME!" he screamed, his body tensing. "Your pussy is mine, bitch."

It took her a second before she realized what he said. Her head flew back, but she kept pumping her hips. When she felt her pussy pulse against his rod, she knew she was close to the edge. 

Breathlessly, she put her forehead on his and whispered, "I am your bitch, Sir."

It was a shock to hear him call her a bitch – a no-no for her – but to hear her say it was a completely different story.

Not being able to hold back the orgasm any longer, she screamed, "Master, I'm coming. I'm ... COMING!"

"Give it to me! NOW!"

With the last word, she buried her face in his neck as her pussy pulsated, and her orgasm exploded through her from the inside out. Realizing he hadn't come with her, still riding the welcomed relief, she whimpered loudly in his ear, "Come with me. I need to feel ..."

And with that, his cock burst inside of her with a loud moan from him. They held onto each other for the longest time as they tried to control their breathing, their hearts pounding furiously against the others.

"Mmm," she whispered, pulling back and sliding her hand to his shoulders. "Wow."

"Use your words," he teased.

She giggled as he fell on his back, and with his hands behind her she landed on top of him, his cock still inside of her. Resting her head on his collarbone, she panted, "That was an 8-1/2."

"What the fuck, lass! You're rating me?"

"Yep. On a scale of one to five." 

Her body shook with his laughter. Looking up at him, she cupped his cheek and ran her thumb over his chin. "Your skin is so soft."

"Thank you. I use a special manly moisturizer." 

"Oh, god. I asked for that, didn't I?"

He kissed her forehead. "You most certainly did." He hesitated a moment. "Gayle, did I offend you by calling you a bitch?"

"It shocked me at first, but I think I was a little ... gone. In the heat of the moment, no, it didn't bother me." 

And it was the truth. She never talked dirty like that before, but she sure did like it now.

"Yes, you were gone. Do you remember what you called me?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean ... I don't remember what I called you." 

Brushing her damp hair from her temples, he replied, "You called me Master. Would you like to address me as such?"

She thought about it a moment, a very quick moment. "No Sir. I wouldn't."

Kissing her nose, he said, "It's quite alright. Thank you for being honest with me."

Suddenly, Bessie let out a furious barking, her nails scratched at the door.

"Crap. I would have liked to stay here with you a bit longer," she moaned as she pushed herself up.

Giving her a quick kiss, he said, "As would I. But we'll have plenty of nights we can hold each other. Would you like that?"

Carefully slipping him out of her and standing on her wobbly knees, she said, "I would, my kind Sir, Master Hamish."

Sitting up, he narrowed his eyes at her but wore a crooked grin. "Don't push it."

Bowing, she teased, "Oh, forgive me, my King. I'm allergic to the guillotine!"

"Oh, hush, now, and let Bessie out, please." He chuckled and shook his head.

Wednesday, August 21th, 2013

"Drive on the left. Drive on the left. Drive on the left."

Gayle had just gotten on the main road on her way to Cupar just after one o'clock for her first shopping spree after cleaning up Hamish's bedroom, the kitchen and straightened up the drawing room. She was excited, it being her first day of freedom in weeks, but she was also unbelievably nervous. She just knew she wouldn't make it to town without hitting another car after she looked left instead of right for oncoming traffic. Her stomach churned at the thought of getting in a bad accident, not to mention possibly hurting someone else. 

"Get a grip. Pay attention. Drive on the left."

By the time she arrived in town and parked in the lot, her knuckles were white and very sore from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Turning off the ignition, she shoved the GPS under the passenger seat and grabbed her purse. 

"I did it!" she cheered and planned to have a glass of wine with lunch to celebrate.

Regaining her composure, she headed down St. Catherine Street, leisurely looking around in awe. The first thing she saw was a beautiful Greek statue of an angel in a beautiful flowing gown, her arms outstretched with wings that seemed to spread to the sky forever. Reading the plaque, it was a War Memorial for soldiers from WWI and WWII. She made a mental note to take a picture of it on her way out.

Expecting the downtown area to be ancient, she was surprised to see how modern it was, instead, though she was sure it was because of the names of the stores that lost its antiquity. Coming to another street, she glanced at the names for a store that would sell cameras but kept going down St. Catherine to see what else was down there. She hoped there would be some restaurants or a pub because she was already hungry when she left the house. She passed a hairdresser's shop, and across the two lane, narrow street was a lingerie store, giving her some wicked ideas for her next trip. 

Taking her time and looking around, she came across a small courthouse of a small church building next to a bigger church. It was gray brick with two narrow sections with windows and a section in the middle with a steeple. Reading the sign for St. John's Parish Church, it was only built in 1878, but to her it should have been several centuries old from the looks of it.

The bigger church was Bonnygate Baptist Church, built of sandstone, only in 1866, and just as narrow as the first but the sanctuary went back, meeting with another parallel section. The front double doors had a beautifully carved archway, and above that was a rose-shaped window. On either side were spires, the left taller with a bell tower; the right shorter with three small arched windows on street level and two tall, narrow windows with another smaller rose-shaped window over that. Something odd was jetting out from a corner on the very top, and at closer inspection it was a gargoyle, seemingly half dragon, half monster. Knowing she'd be back, she decided to check out the chapel on another day.

The shops ahead didn't seem to have any restaurants or pubs, not to mention a camera store, so she headed down a narrow alley. Luckily, the alley opened up to a small square with plenty of restaurants, many with tables set outside, which were pretty full since it was lunch time. Walking around and checking out each menu, she settled on Ostlers Close, which seemed to have an upscale seafood menu. Already knowing what she wanted – a salad with wild mushrooms and red onion marmalade that came with locally made bread – the hostess sat her at a table on the outside of the eating area. 

The waitress arrived quickly and was very cordial when she realized Gayle was American. She gave her directions to Frye's Camera shop which was only a block away. 

While she waited, she received a text from Hamish. 'did you make it here or are you in ireland?'

She chuckled. 'no Sir. sweden is lovely this time of year'

'good one!'

'i'm here. getting lunch right now. gotta get the camera'

'ok. good. don't be late tonight'

'i won't. my ass won't let me'

'ha ha. See you then'

Just then the waitress brought her salad, and it was more than she expected it to be. For some odd reason she assumed Scots, and Brits, for that matter, always ate a light lunch. 

Enjoying it tremendously, she was about halfway through eating when a tall, very attractive woman with short-cropped, strawberry red hair walked passed her on her cell phone and stood within hearing range. The woman had a very heavy Irish accent and started talking loudly, so it wasn't like she was trying to keep her conversation very private.

"Sharon, I'm still at lunch. It's looking good! I'm putting on the charm. He's already putty in my hands. With his money, I'll have it made. Cheers."

Suddenly she walked away, and in a way Gayle wanted to hear more but was a little disgusted that she was having lunch with a man simply for his money.

Thankfully she found a reasonably priced camera, and on her way back to the parking lot at a major intersection, she saw a sign on the second story of a building. "McDougal, Duff & Gordon." 

Huh. I wonder if that's Hamish's office. Would he mind me popping in? 

Looking at her watch, she grimaced when she saw it was already three thirty, and she was cramping from being on her period. She decided since she was meeting up with Jessie to make cranachan, a desert from raspberries she pulled from her garden, it was a good time to leave. As soon as Jessie mentioned it the day before, her mouth had been watering, made from toasted oatmeal, soaked overnight in a little whisky, served with a mixture of whipped cream, honey and the raspberries.

Heading back to the car park, she turned a corner and ran into a woman on the phone with red hair carrying several shopping bags – the same woman who was on the phone outside the restaurant. Gayle couldn't avoid her, and the woman bumped into Gayle's shoulder pretty hard.

"Get out of my way, you stupid cow," she spat, giving Gayle a long, hard, nasty look before stomping off.

Well so much for the Scots being a friendly people.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Hamish and Gayle had just finished breakfast, and he told her to go upstairs and change into the clothes he'd set out for her on her bed. They were having their bowling battle this morning, and she'd already thought of her reward when she won – if she won, and only if she cheated.

Walking into her bedroom, she cringed at the worn out, tattered, much-to-small t-shirt with huge red lips and long tongue. Picking it up, she smiled when she saw 'Rolling Stones.' Taking off her apron skirt, she put on her underwear and bra then the t-shirt, and it was exactly what she feared. It actually fit fine in all the right places, except the breasts. She felt like they were balloons.

"You've got to be kidding me," she sighed heavily.

"You use that phrase a lot, don't you?" Hamish asked as he stood in the doorway with a wicked grin on his face.

Looking down on her chest, she replied, "When you have me wearing ho clothes, yes." She chuckled as she slipped on her jeans.

"Ho clothes? How's your situation?" She looked at him very confused. "Your curse?"

"Huh?" Then she got what he was trying to say. "Oh. Eve's curse. Yeah, I'm done."

He smiled wildly. "Brilliant! I already know what I'm going to do to you when I win."

"With the fifty pin lead you are going to give me, it is I that shall beat you ... Sir."

"Fifty?! I don't think so."

"I don't have my own ball or my shoes. I'm playing at a disadvantage."

"Ten," he offered.

"Nope," she said, hanging her apron up.

"Fifteen," he counter-offered.

"Okay," she said approaching the door. "Twenty-five."

"Deal ... Wait!"

Gayle burst out laughing as she went to the bathroom. 

"I'll let Bessie out. Meet me downstairs," he said.

A few minutes later when they were on the road, he said, "Now, while we're out, I want you to call me Hamish. And I also want you to relax and enjoy yourself. Think you can do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Working for you has left me a bundle of nerves," she said seriously. "I find it awfully hard to relax around you."

His eyes flew open as he looked at her sharply. Seeing her hard face, he asked softly, "Gayle, are you serious?"

She burst out laughing. "No Sir. I'm just playing with you."

Shaking his head, he reached out and tweaked her nipple hard. "OW!" From that point on, her nipples stayed erect and sensitive, and that would play nicely to her advantage, knowing he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of her chest. 

As they drove into the Cupar Bowling Club complex, it wasn't exactly what she was expecting. It was far from being big enough to hold forty lanes like the States have, but because there seemed to be more space behind it, maybe there was another building in the back.

After he turned off the engine, Gayle reached for the door handle. "Oh, no you don't, Ms. Boyce. Won't you allow me the honor of showing my chivalry?" His tone was light and playful.

"Wouldn't I have to be swept away by a knight, or something?"

He grinned as he walked to her door, and as he opened it, he said, "If you find a knight, I shall kill him outright and spank you until you can't walk for a year." 

She took his outstretched hand and let him pull her out. After he closed the door, she replied, "If you are looking for a princess, then it is only fair I find my prince."

The expression on his face stopped her cold. To her it was like she'd stabbed him with a sword. But she wasn't about to explain herself or play it off as teasing him because she was serious. She was a little put off that he appeared to be jealous – yet again.

And jealous Hamish was. It was innocent enough her teasing him, but still he had to reign in his big, bad, green monster.

She walked toward the front doors, but Hamish took her hand and tugged her to the side of the building to a double-door gate, not letting go of her hand. "I want to show you something, first," he said as he opened the gate.

Following him, she was correct in that there was more space in the back – a lot more space. In fact, there was a small stadium with about ten rows of long bleachers on either side of three lawn greens, all in the middle of a match.

"There's been a little change of plans," he told her as they approached a smaller building. "We're not exactly ten-pin bowling. I will teach you the ancient Scottish tradition of lawn bowling."

Letting go of his hand, she stopped. "Sir ... Hamish, I don't know how to lawn bowl! You tricked me!" She was afraid she overdid her tone to give her away, but from his reaction she was safe.

"No worries, lass. I will teach you everything you need to know," he told her as they entered. "I've taught teenaged boys how to fly gliders, and they didn't crash."

A man helped Gayle choose bowls, a cylindrical 'ball' that was just barely oblong and put them in a sack. "Here you are," the man said as he handed it to Hamish. "Your green will be ready shortly. They're just finishing up, I think."

"Right. It'll give me enough time to go over the rules with Gayle. She's ... visiting from Washington, D.C., and she doesn't –"

"Oh!" the man interrupted. "My ex and I went there last year. Lovely city." 

As he spoke, she noticed his light blue-gray colored eyes that shone brightly with his dark brown hair. She had to fight back stuttering like an idiot and nodded shyly. "It is, but I live just outside the city in Maryland."

"Tell me, have they finished repairing the Monument? I was looking forward to the view from the top," he said, moving from behind the counter and standing next to Gayle. "That earthquake did a lot of damage, eh? I sure wouldn't have wanted to be on top when it hit."

"It really did. The National Cathedral had more damage. The scaffolding on the Monument is still up, but it's pretty lit at night with the lights they put up."

Suddenly she noticed Hamish shuffling his feet, so she didn't say anything more.

"Cheers, Luke," Hamish said curtly as he led them away.

Walking back outside, Gayle whispered, "That was kind of rude."

"No more rude than him blatantly flirting with you."

"Oh, he was not!"

"A normal conversation with any Scot is a pick up line. Jack met Lily when he claimed he couldn't unlock his new cellphone."

"No way," she chuckled. Walking toward the bleachers and after they sat down, she turned to him. "Sir, me talking to a man doesn't mean anything. And whether they are flirting or not doesn't matter. I've already told you I'm not going home with them."

That seemed to do the trick, and he visibly relaxed. "Don't mind me. I guess I'm a little ... overprotective."

Putting her hand on his forearm, she replied, "And I appreciate it, but you have nothing to worry about."

It took him a moment before he shook his head. He wasn't used to anyone being so open and honest about their feelings. It had always taken him a while before he could ever open his heart, and here she was – creaking the door open inch by inch every single day.

Clearing his throat, he turned to the players on the greens and began to explain the rules of the game. "The player stands on the rubber mat on one end, and the white ball, referred to as the jack, stays at the far end. The bowls are thrown to get as close to the jack as possible."

"So why aren't they aiming for the jack straight on?" she asked.

"There are ridges on the outsides of the bowls that make it curve, also known as bias. It's all strategic planning and how hard or soft you throw the bowl. The curve allows the player to get behind bowls that have already been played. Each player has four bowls. I'll toss the jack to the opposite side of the green, and I'll allow you a few practice shots to get used to the 120-feet distance. The goal is to get as many of your four bowls closest to the jack."

Studying the green and watching the players, she asked, "The blue one hit the yellow one. Is that allowed?"




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 14



"It is, but if it is hit too hard and lands in the ditch, it's out of play. And if you hit the jack it is allowed, changing the score in an instant. After all four bowls, the number of the same color closest to the jack scores a point. So, our green right there has two black bowls as opposed to the three yellow bowls. The yellow wins that round."

"Hmm. So how many rounds?"

"Until the first player hits twenty-one." He scrutinized her face to see if she understood.

"Hmm, easy enough. I think I got it," she said confidently. "It's a cross between curling and bowling."

"You have been paying attention. Ready to give it a go?" he asked as he stood.

"Sure. But since I can't have a twenty-five pin lead, I want a ten-pin lead."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but they were playful. "Who's the boss here?"

Sighing overdramatically, she put the back of her hand over her forehead and whined, "Oh, woe is me! I'm just a weak female, Sire. Won't you give a poor girl –"

He laughed. "Alright, alright. Stop, will you?"

Once the players were off the green, Hamish set the bowls up by the mat and explained the different weights of each of her four bowls, which she tested out while he explained the strength and the direction to throw them.

"I'll set the jack into play and give you some test shots. This is how you hold it to take advantage of the curve you want."

After he placed the jack, she took the lightest bowl and said, "Okay, let's see."

She checked the distance visually, gauged the range and location of where to start the throw, threw back her arm and rolled hard toward the right. She put so much power behind it that it rolled right past jack into the far left ditch.

Seriously, Hamish said, "Well, uh, alright. Next time you throw it don't throw so hard or at such an angle. Watch me. I'll use the same weight." 

Gayle, on the other hand, tried her damnedest not to burst out laughing, but she just nodded and watched him. When he threw it, he followed right behind it about ten feet in a slow, steady jog. The bowl lay perfectly a few inches from the white ball.

"Hmm. Okay," she said. "So, I want to follow the bowl to the jack. Got it."

"Noooo," he stammered and ran his hand through his hair. "There's a momentum to it, and that's how the pros follow through."

"Oh. My bad." Again she could barely hide a smile from playing stupid. 

The second bowl she threw landed six feet from the jack. "At least it's on the green," he chuffed.

She shot him a nasty look, but when she saw his grin she smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It really wasn't a compliment, Gayle," he retorted, his hands on his hips.

"Hey! Be nice! I'm a newbie here!" she said seriously as she grabbed another bowl. 

When she turned around and stepped on the mat, he said, "Oh, Ms. Boyce, I may not be able to spank your arse here, but I will be more than happy to start counting for when we do get home."

"'Nuf said. Alright, alright. Watch this."

Trying to be as serious as possible, she threw the bowl and followed it a few steps. Watching it intently, it rolled right to the jack and flopped down a foot away.

"Brilliant! You do have the hang of it. But try not to look like a chicken with its head cut off as you run."

"Hamish!" she sniffed playfully and wiped under an eye. "You're gonna make me cry."

Laughing, he replied, "I'll give you something to cry about, lass." 

As he quickly jogged down the green to retrieve the bowls, she watched him ... his tush, actually. She'd been there over three weeks, and she'd never checked out his ass. Well, she had, but not in such tight jeans he was wearing. And with Beginner's Luck behind her, she knew exactly what she would do as her reward.

When he came back, he whispered, "See something you like?"

She blushed wildly because she hadn't realized he caught her staring. "Not really. I was calculating my first shot."

Shaking his head, he said, "Two."

Her eyes and mouth flew open, but she stopped in time from making it any higher. "So, what lead will you give me?" 

"I'll give you ten. But I've told you how competitive I am, so I hope you're not a sore loser."

"Nah. I'm on a learning curve, so I will take it like a lady."

"That you do, Gayle. That you do."

She gave him a quick wink, stood on the mat and threw the bowl like she knew what she was doing. Watching it as she trotted, it stopped fairly close to the jack, but she wanted it to be closer.

"Nice shot. Next time ..." he started to say, but she tuned him out.

Stepping back as he got on the mat, she watched him throw his bowl, which rested between hers and the jack. 

"Hmm. I'm in trouble, aren't I?" she asked, feigning fear in her voice.

"Yes, you are. Your shot, m'lady."

Her second bowl knocked right into his and knocked it out of play. Knowing exactly what she was doing, she tried really, really hard not to smile. Turning to him, she asked, "What shot do you call that?"

"It's a drive." He then narrowed his eyes at her. "Gayle, have you played before?"

"What? No! It's mainly played by old retired fogies in Florida."

"I don't believe you," he replied skeptically as he made his next throw.

By the time the first round was over, Gayle was up one while Hamish was up three. Then they played several more games, with Gayle leading seventeen to fourteen. He hadn't said anything – not a word – since the start of the third game, when he knew he'd been had. She was playing like she played for years. It irked him to no end that she'd been able to anticipate his next moves.

"You are an awful liar. And I'm tacking on twenty-one spankings just because ... because I can," he said curtly after he threw his last bowl. "I guess you know there is one play you can make to get the four points you need to win. With my guard, it'll be tricky. The question is: Are you as good as you think you are?"

"Hamish, Sir, really. It's all beginner's luck. I'm just a quick learner!" But she knew he wasn't buying it.

Standing on the mat, she determined the strength to throw the bowl, where to drop it and which prayer to recite before she released it. Sure enough, the bowl first knocked one of his bowls which tapped the jack, giving her the four points to win the match.

"Unfucking believable," he sputtered as he walked down the green to retrieve the bowls.

She heard him mumbling under his breath the entire way and couldn't hold back any longer. Starting with a giggle, by the time Hamish returned she was in full-blown rolling laughter, so much so tears were filling her eyes.

"Oh, oh. I'm ... sorry. It's just ... I should have ..."

"Oh, shut up!" he hissed then laughed right back.

"I ... so wanted to call the jack sweetie and ... use blooter when I knocked your bowl out of the way." Trying to catch her breath, she said, "My grandparents retired to Florida when I was smaller, and they taught me to play. Oh, my god. I can't believe ... You were pissed, weren't you?"

"Most definitely not."

"I couldn't help myself. I was the summer champion for two years in the youth league at their country club. Granny and Granpa were so proud of me. I've missed playing. That was fun."

"Well, fuck. So," he started as he put the bowls in the sack. "What's my naivety going to cost me?" 

"I don't know yet. When I do I'll let you know ... Sir." She knew exactly what she was going to have him pay.

Putting his arm around her shoulders, he said, "Let's get some coffee. But just so you know, I don't appreciate you cheating."

"Cheating?! I beg to differ."

"Keep on begging, little dove."

A few minutes later, they were sitting in the small restaurant, sipping coffee. She was telling him about St. Athernase Church in town, and how she wanted to visit it one weekend and a few castles, but she hadn't found any excavating sights locally. 

"Hamish?" A woman asked as she approached their table. "I wasn't expecting to see you here today." 

The red-haired woman bent over and kissed Hamish on the cheek. "Bri," he said as he stood, seeming to be a little embarrassed. "I'd like you to meet Gayle. She's been keeping my home nice and tidy."

When Bri looked down at Gayle, she didn't seem to recognize her. But Gayle sure knew this woman. It was same one that practically ran her over, and the same one that was seeing Hamish simply for his money. 

Well, shit a brick! Fuck! Do I tell him?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think I got the rules of lawn bowling down and kept it short. If I blew it, please forgive me! Also, check lawn bowling matches on youtube. I got addicted to watching it quick! It definitely is something I wished I'd done when I was there! 



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 15



AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know this is short, but I'll not have access to a computer for a week, and I wanted to get something out for y'all. I will be working on it while I'm gone, and I promise I'll make up for it!

I was a little irked that altho Lit did a great job expanding their new postings, my chap 14 was 15 out of 15 and lasted no more than 24 hours on the board. Some days there are THREE and lasts three days on the list. *sigh*

Thanks to JonB1969 for editing and putting up with my impatience. And many, MANY thanks to MastersWench for her gentle nudge in making this chapter better, IMHO. Her insight is fantastic. Apparently I'm making Hamish too nice, and with the rough draft of this chapter, I agree with her. I'm writing another fic where the main man is 'nicer,' and I think I'm getting the two mixed up. Someone spank me!! Seriously, spank me ... I mean I appreciate her!

We last left off (two weeks ago) with Gayle winning her lawn bowling bet with Hamish. He also has dated Bri, who is only interested in his money, though he seems to like her enough to want to continue dating (the moron).

Friday, September 6, 2013

The past two weeks had gone by quickly for Gayle since their lawn bowling competition, though she hadn't yet collected on her award, nor had she told Hamish what it was. She was still battling the details, the fun, nastily wicked details, and she wasn't quite sure if she could pull it off. It didn't really matter because she didn't think he would even agree to it.

Meanwhile, she had been battling whether she should tell him about Bri's true intentions. On one hand, it was none of her business. Gayle told Hamish from day one that she wouldn't be his wife, and she hadn't changed her mind. On the other hand, she cared enough for him – and only professionally – that it was killing her inside, when he'd talk about the few dates and good times he'd had with Bri, because she knew the girl was just after his money. One day she'd conclude she would tell him, the next day, she wouldn't. Back and forth. Back and forth. She decided not to say a word.

Hamish had been busy meeting clients for work on the weekend, playing golf, or going on dates with Bri. He had noticed Gayle seemed to have pushed away from him just a little, not so much outside the bedroom but definitely inside. It didn't make sense to him. He hadn't treated Gayle any differently, but while she would still orgasm and went above what he asked of her, there was just something holding her back. He was pleased she'd been able to go up two sizes in her anal plug training, and he planned on seeing how far he could push her on that.

But tonight, on his way home from work, he'd been wondering if her aloofness had anything do with Bri. Maybe she was getting back at him because he'd been so jealous at the lawn club and at the pub when they'd gone to Edinburgh. He couldn't help but grin that she was dishing it out as much as she was taking it.

When he pulled up to his house, Jessie was just about to get into her car. "Wait a minute, Jessie, please," he hollered as he parked and approached her. Giving her a quick kiss on her cheek, he asked, "What are you doing here? Did you forget, Gayle and I aren't having dinner tonight?"

"Ah've nae lost mah memory yit, laddie! Ah drapped aff some fruit an' vegs fur th' week end Gayle asked fur." 

"Brilliant. Thanks." Hesitantly, he asked, "Has Gayle been acting oddly or unlike herself the past few weeks?"

"Why, nae, loove. She pure impresses me; she's quick as a whip. She'll hae lots ay recipes tae tak' home wi' 'er."

Looking over her face, he frowned at what he was reading. "Jessie, what is it you're hiding from me?"

"Ah didn't want tae brin' thes up coz ye know ah don't pry in yer affairs. Ah hear ye hae anither date wi' Brianna Anderson tonecht. Kelsey knows 'er, an' she's a character."

My little dove is indeed a yapper, I see. I'll put a stop to that. He wasn't happy. He wondered what else she might have told her.

"Character? How do you mean?"

Jessie shook her head and chose her words thoughtfully. "Be careful with tha' one. Guard yer heart."

Jessie had never steered Hamish wrong, so his initial reaction was of trepidation. But he also knew she wouldn't overstep her boundaries with him. But he still wondered ...

"Go oan inside. Ah think there's somethin' she wants tae gab tae ye abit."

Hamish had a whole bunch of scenarios in his head in regards to what Gayle had to tell him. 

What has she done? Where does she want to go? Does she want to leave?

After he entered the house, Bessie met him wagging her tail happily. "Hey. Where's your new friend? Is she where she's supposed to be?" he asked as he walked towards the drawing room. 

As always, she was kneeling by his chair, head down, hands behind her back, and her nipples beautifully hardened. His drink, mail, The Scotsman, and the chastity belt key were sitting on the coffee table, as usual, and there was really nothing he could quarrel with her about.

"Hello, little dove," he said as he sat down with his drink in his hand. "How are you?"

"Welcome home, Sir," she replied cheerily. "I'm feeling great."

Obediently, she put his slippers on his feet and was about to kneel back down when he stopped her, told her to stand at ease, unlocked and removed the belt. She was petrified the butt plug would plop out, being it was no longer held into place by the metal. Then he patted his left knee. "Sit."

Furrowing her eyebrows, not sure how she was going to do that without the plug coming out of her throat, she sat down carefully and slowly and settled in with a long sigh.

"That was tough, ye? You've done well with the bigger sizes. How is it?"

She nodded. "It took a couple of days to get used to it and most of the time I don't think about it. Just when I sit wrong."

"That's good to hear." He brushed her hair away from her face and trailed his fingertips down her back. "Now, Jessie tells me you have something to tell me?"

Initially she stammered, having difficulty finding the right words without causing a big stir between them. Taking a deep breath, she said, "You know I went to St. Athernase church in Leuchars on my day off the other day, and I was wondering, if it's not going to interfere with my duties, if it would be alright with you if I help with excavating an area of the church? They started a few months ago, and they need someone to catalog the pieces they find, and since I know architecture –"

He interrupted her fast-speaking rant by placing his forefinger over her lips. "Breathe, lass. Of course you can, unless we have something else planned." He put his arm around her waist. "Asking that was hard for you, wasn't it?" 

She nodded bashfully and regretfully. 

"Gayle, I don't ever want you to hesitate to talk to me. Do you understand? I want you to explore Scotland as much as you can, more than lawn bowling, at least." He chuckled. "I will not give you details, but I have a few things in the works to do just that."

Her body deflated for a split second from relief before she sat up straight again. "That would be nice, Sir. I was nervous you wouldn't allow it. I don't know why, but..."

He let her ramble again, because she was cute as hell with her blushing cheeks. "Stop, now. You don't need to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you! It's just –" She bit her bottom lip and looked away. 

"I have a question for you. When you ladies are making dinner, what do you talk about?"

Gayle's stomach dropped. "Sir, nothing about us! Jessie goes on and on about her daughter and grandkids and her husband, and I tell her about my family and – oh, shit. Bri?" He nodded. "All I said was I'd be eating leftovers because of your date tonight. That's it! I swear!"

He shook his head, cupped her face with his hands and kissed her, reassuring her that he wasn't upset. He was pleased with her that she'd been honest with him. 

Once again, while she wanted to melt into him and kiss him back ferociously, she held the heat back and returned just what he gave her. Although the sex was incredible and hadn't pushed her with limits, she still repeatedly told herself to hold back, not to get overwhelmed with the way he made her feel. It was a job, a temporary job. There was no room for romance between them. Her brain knew that, but her heart always said something different.

Pulling back, he said, his voice angry, "Ms. Boyce, I would have expected more discretion from you. In the future, you will keep my business between us. Do you understand that?" He didn't say that as a question.

Nodding emphatically, she fought tears back for disappointing him. "I'm so sorry, Sir. I won't. It's just ... I know this isn't an excuse, but I look forward to Jessie's visits. It's nice to talk with someone."

He finally understood. "Your family, is that why you've seemed distant with me?"

Distant? Is that what you think? I'll keep letting you think that. "Yes Sir."

"Have you been emailing your dad and sister?"

"I have, yes. Thank you. But there's a lot I can't tell them. Catelyn thinks –" Shut up, Gayle! 

She had spoken with her sister and admitted they'd had sex but not that D/s, dominance and submission, was involved. Catelyn told Gayle that she had better watch herself with Hamish because she was definitely smitten with him, and they both knew how jealous she could be. Of course she denied it and would always deny it to the ends of the earth. But Catelyn informed Gayle that she'd never seen her blush so easily and talk so giddily when she talked about a boy, or man, in this case. Gayle brusquely ended the Skype connection.

"Catelyn thinks what?" Hamish asked curiously.

She looked at him blankly. "Sir, it's none of my business."

"Hmm. Out with it."

She sighed heavily. "You know how you told me you are a little overprotective of me?" He nodded. "I guess I'm a little overprotective too." God, I hope I said that convincingly.

He smiled warmly at her. "There's no need to be, but it's nice, just the same. Now get the hell off my lap so I can get ready," he said, his voice playful.

Later that night ...

Gayle had been writing in her diary to get her thoughts straightened out from the conversation earlier with Hamish. She tried to tell herself she was being an idiot. It didn't quite work. All the agonizing she'd done gave her a sweet tooth.

"Well, Bessie," she said to the dog, who was curled up at the foot of the bed, "I need some chocolate ice cream." She looked at the clock. "It's only 10.30. Want a treat?"

With the last word treat, Bessie jerked her head up, her ears perked up like she hadn't heard what she thought she heard and was waiting to hear it again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on."

Slipping on the robe she'd bought on her second afternoon off and slippers, she headed down the hallway, keeping the light off because at the top of the stairs she noticed a light on downstairs and assumed Hamish was having a night cap before he went to bed. Still, she walked down the stairs quietly, although Bessie's nails clicked on the wood stairs.

Almost at the bottom, she was just about to call out his name when she saw from the corner of her eye an odd movement. Stopping in place, she looked and saw Hamish sitting on the couch facing the hall, his head back, his eyes closed. She thought he was ill until she saw the back of a red headed woman – The Bitch – on her knees, her head going up and down, obviously giving him a blow job. Gayle couldn't see whether she was dressed or not, not that it mattered.

Oh, God. Oh GOD! Frozen in place, she couldn't move or even think straight. Instead of retreating back up the stairs or continuing to the kitchen, she stood, in shock, watching The Bitch pleasure her boss. Her stomach churned with anger, jealousy and curiosity. 

Suddenly, he moaned loudly and picked his head up as he put his hand on the back on her head and thread his fingers through her short strands.

"You have a very talented mouth," he cooed, though his tone was nothing like he'd ever used with Gayle. 

She couldn't be sure if that was a good or bad sign. Her insecurities raged through her as she watched his facial expression, her knuckles turning pure white and painful as she gripped the railing. The look in his eyes was heavy, raw and lustful. Had he ever looked at me like that? She couldn't be sure. 

Without warning, he turned his head just enough so that their eyes met. Her heart stopped, and she knew she would die of embarrassment at being caught. She tried to look away but couldn't, even when a broad smile spread over his lips. 

Why the hell are you smiling, Hamish? Do you find this amusing? I sure as shit don't!

Instead, she stood immobile and watched them, her eyes locked with his, her heart pounding, her pussy tingling, her undies growing moist. She couldn't see The Bitch's mouth or her lips wrapped around his cock, but she sure seemed to know what she was doing. Hamish's eyes still on Gayle's, his smile grew, and his eyes narrowed. 

Stop smiling, asshole! What, you like being watched, you pervert? 

"Hmm, slow down a bit. I'm not ready to cum yet, lass," Hamish whispered.

But I'm ready to rip The Bitch's eyes out! Gayle, really?! Jealous much?

Letting go of the railing because her fingertips had become numb, she blinked several times. 

Run, damn it! What is wrong with you?, she thought, which broke her spell over the scenario. Running back upstairs, she almost tripped on the top step but caught herself just in time. She slammed the bedroom door closed and threw herself on the bed.

"WHAT AM I DOING?!" 

Why are you letting him get to you? And stop pretending you don't care, dumb ass. Stop feeling like this! 

Saturday, September 7, 2013

"So, how did it go?" Hamish asked Gayle as she walked into the kitchen that afternoon.

It was her first day recording the findings of the dig at the Romanesque style St. Athernase Church. He was on his way out to play some golf that morning, and Gayle had arrangements to be at the church at nine, so they barely said two words to each about the night before. They both were pretty grateful for that.

"It went great, Sir. I met the Reverend, Robert Martin. I spoke with him for quite a while. I've taken so many pictures. The church is incredible! I'll send them to Dad and Catelyn tonight, if that's okay. Do you want some coffee?" He shook his head. 

She made herself a cup and sat down at the table across from him. "Robert showed me drawings of the church shortly after it was built in the 12th century. It's incredible the history here. I mean, America has no more than what, four hundred years? Here, there's Stonehenge which is thousands of years. We don't even have buildings –"

She stopped talking because he was narrowing his eyes at her. "No more coffee, alright?"

Laughing, she took a sip. "Okay. Sorry. It was just nice to meet people and keep my mind preoccupied."

"I can understand that. Did you meet anybody?" 

She didn't like his tone at all, and she grew defensive. "What difference does it make? After what I saw last night, you have the nerve –" She instantly bit her bottom lip as her eyes flew open; butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach. "Sir, I am so, so sorry! I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have. You didn't seem to mind watching, though. I don't take you as a voyeur."

You son of a bitch! How dare you!

Standing, she said, "I'm going upstairs to change." She hadn't realized how brusque her voice was, not that she regretted it.

Just as she got to the door, he said, "No, you're not." Based on his tone, he was livid. She stopped and turned around. Leaning back in his chair, he asked, "Do you realize how disrespectful you are to me right now?" 

"Yes Sir, but do you realize how awkward that was for me to see you ... You should have told me you were bringing a woman home."

"Ms. Boyce, you are in no position to demand a damned thing from me. That being said, I hear what you're saying, and I will let you know if I do have company over. Sit," he ordered.

"Sir, with all due respect, no."

"It isn't up for debate, Ms. Boyce."

She was really beginning to hate his use of her surname when he was angry, but she obeyed and sat down across from him. She fought to keep her mouth shut because at the moment she was skating on thin ice.

They stared at the other waiting to see who was going to push first. If she were as intelligent as he knew she was, she would keep quiet. But there was something more to it, he knew that much. First she was upset about catching him and Bri. And she defiantly disobeyed him more than once inside of just two minutes. Then it dawned on him, but he wanted to hear her admit it.

Finally, she broke the silence between them. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to get snippy."

That wasn't what he was expecting to hear. "Why did you?"

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I have no fucking clue. I've got a lot of crap in my head I need to straighten out before I even begin to understand them." 

Her voice had gotten weak and ashamed, and she couldn't look him in his eyes. There was so much more she wanted to tell him, but she knew it wasn't the right time. 

Leaning forward, Hamish said, "Look at me, Gayle." 

She'd already said the forbidden two-letter word, and she didn't dare say it again. Slowly and reluctantly, she raised her head, though it was a few seconds before she could look him in his eyes. 

He looked so deeply into her eyes he was probably seeing the wall behind her. His stare was so intense she had to force herself to breathe.

"Be honest with me. Are you jealous?"

Please don't make me tell you! Gayle's heart started to pound. She had to tell him about Bri; he wouldn't allow her a way out. 

The question she had to ask herself was, 'Am I really jealous?' 

"No, I'm not," she grumbled, though she didn't believe it herself.

"I'm already adding up your punishment in my head for keeping things from me. I suggest you spill it all now."

She could barely look him in his eyes. "Sir, do you want to hear it, even though it's none of my business and it's not my place?" He nodded. "I didn't want to tell you, and I wasn't going to, but...Bri, she, um...Shit."

In one quick sentence, she explained Bri's phone conversation then when Bri ran into her. 

He stretched his hands out to her, but she didn't take them at first; it took her a moment before she did. "Hmm. Gayle, I don't ever want you to be afraid to talk to me. But I am disappointed that you didn't. Being honest and open with each other is of high importance to me. I consider holding back the same as lying. Know this, Ms. Boyce, I also expect you to tell me what is going on in your head. For two weeks –" He stopped himself from blathering and telling her he thought he had done something wrong, when in reality he hadn't.

He let go of her hands and leaned back. "Stay," he said as he stood and left her alone in the kitchen. 

I'm not a fucking dog, Hamish! Gayle wanted to scream, but she bit her tongue; if she kept it up, she'd had to tongue left. She wasn't sure if he was talking to Bessie or her, but she thought it best if she stayed. If he wasn't back in fifteen minutes, she knew it'd be safe to leave the room. 

Stepping up to the bar, he poured himself a drink and took a sip, allowing him a few moments to get his thoughts together. He had expressed he wanted her to be open with him about anything that was bothering her, and apparently she didn't feel she could do that. It bothered him, a lot. 

But to be fair, he hadn't been honest with her, either, not that he had to be. When he was getting head from Bri and saw Gayle standing on the stairs watching, for a split second the picture of having both Bri and Gayle together, pleasuring him, watching them as they sucked each other's tits, fucking one from behind as one ate the other out, his cock had instantly throbbed, and he could have come right then and there. Instead, he'd smiled at Gayle.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 15



Returning to the kitchen, he sat back down and took a long pull on his drink. 

Gayle stared at him a moment to get a sense whether he'd allow her to speak or not. Not really caring, she asked, "You want complete honesty from me, correct?" He nodded. "I was asked to go out to a pub with people from the dig." 

"Did you want to go?" 

"I did. It would have been nice, but –"

"You are free to ask, but I might not have granted it, though I'm glad you didn't."

Oh, so you're a fucking Genie now?! Yeah, I'll grant you a wish, you jack ass. 

She was so livid, she could hardly control her anger; her tone reflected that when she said, "Sir, I am your employee. You control what I do, how I do it and what I feel. But outside your home, I should have the right to...Fuck, never mind. It's not even worth it."

The expression on his face hardened instantly. His eyes seemingly turned a brilliant red and horns grew from the top of his head. 

"Hey, you were the one that wanted me to speak my mind." 

She wanted to curl up into a ball or run out screaming to the nearest police station, or better yet jump off the castle's tower. But she couldn't take back what she said. Butterflies erupted in her ass, just like when she was a little girl and she pulled the curtain from the rod in the bedroom of her grandparent's house. She didn't have anything to lose at this point, though she wondered what her family would put in her obituary.

She sighed heavily. "Sir, with all due respect, I understand the terms of our contract, but I didn't anticipate wanting to...socialize. If you hold me back, I would feel like you're using me – just like Bri is using you...and you are using her."

Ow, woman! You sure know how to cut with a knife. 

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a crooked smile. "I'll consider everything you've said. But in the meantime, go to the fountain, disrobe, get on your knees, spread apart wide, hands outstretched on the cobblestone, head down. Think about what you've said to me, and whether you ever will talk to me like that again. Wait for me."

She stared at him dumfounded. "Sir," she said, her voice quivering. "You wanted me to...Maybe I should have watched my tone, yes, but..."

"You should have thought of that before you spoke. And this isn't up for debate," he said sternly.

"Please, Sir, I'm truly sorry. But –"

"But nothing. Again, to the fountain, disrobe, get on your knees, spread apart wide, hands outstretched on the cobblestone, head down. I hope I won't have to repeat it a third time."

"No Sir." It took all the strength she had to not cry as she walked out of the kitchen with her feet feeling like she was walking in wet cement.

Wanting to confirm what Jessie and Gayle told him, he was disappointed to hear Brianna had made it a habit of dating men for their money in the past, but she'd sworn to Lily that she was a changed woman. Lily believed her, unfortunately for Hamish. He was beginning to like her. It was best he'd find out about the gold digger before she'd gotten into his heart.

"Well, what's done is done," he said to himself as he finished his drink and headed out back.

He was pretty sure of himself that Gayle was jealous of him seeing Brianna, but now it seemed she wasn't. Was he disenchanted? Probably. Was he grateful she and Jessie were watching out for him? Absolutely. Did he really want to give it another go with another woman? He couldn't say yes to that.

Bessie came running to him as he approached the water fountain, but he didn't even bother looking at the canine. The sun was shining brightly on Gayle's ass cheeks, and his mouth gaped open. Just one cheek fit nicely in his palm, and although it wouldn't be pleasant for Gayle, he was looking forward to delving out her punishment.

Stepping up beside her, he could see her shoulder muscles were tense and possibly shaking, which was acceptable. He assumed she would be nervous; she should be nervous. She had bit her tongue at something he did or said, he was sure. But she really crossed the line with him this time. The thing was, she was right with a lot she said. He made a mental note to allow her the freedom to tell him what she needed to tell him, but not too much freedom.

He ran his fingernails from the nape of her neck to the small of her back slowly, grinning when she arched her back. "Straighten your back. You will not move. Do you understand me?"

Without turning her head and straightening her back, she replied, "Yes Sir."

"That's such a good girl," he cooed, brushing her hair off of her back over her shoulder then walked to her other side, again teasing her with his fingers. "Except, of course, with your little temper tantrum."

SMACK! He slapped her ass cheek so hard it even stung his own hand. But his cock twitched when she yelped loudly, ending with a groan. 

"With each punishment I give you, you will say, 'I will speak to Sir in a calm manner, never to disrespect him again.'"

When she didn't say the words immediately, he slapped her other ass cheek with the same force as the first. "Repeat the term."

"I will speak to Sir in a calm manner, never to disrespect him again," she whined.

"Much better."

For the next several minutes, he spank her, each time she recited the exact phrase as she was instructed. He was pleased at how well she held up, but after the eleventh, he could hear the pain in her voice; her body was shaking – for how long he didn't know. Her ass cheeks were a bright pink, and he knew she'd had enough. 

Suddenly, she completely broke down and started to cry. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her. As he promised, he wasn't angry during her punishment, but maybe he had pushed her too far. 

Kneeling beside her, he put his arm over her waist gently. "Gayle, Gayle. It's alright. You're alright." He tried to make his voice soft so as not to frighten any more than she probably was.

"Little dove, hey, lie down. Put your head –"

"I...I can't," she sobbed, keeping her head down out of shame. She didn't want him to see her like this. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"I know you are. On your side. Lie on your side."

Slowly, groaning and grunting, she laid down on her hip and put her head on his thigh facing away from him and wiped her face. He began to run his fingers through her hair, but she didn't want him to touch her. It was Bessie, who'd come up to see if she was hurt, that got her spirits up when she licked away her tears. She didn't say a word but pet the canine, occasionally sniffing and trying to stop her crying.

"Gayle, I hope you understand this is something that had to be done. From the first day ..."

Oh, shut up. I get it. It's a good thing you can't read my mind. I'd never sit again.

"Ms. Boyce, I asked you a question."

"Hmm? I'm sorry, Sir? What did you ask?"

"You beat me – or cheated, if truth be told – at lawn bowling. You've not told me what I owe you."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it."

Hamish took Gayle's shoulder and forcefully pulled her to face him, though not enough that she would be resting on her ass. "I will worry about it. It's been two weeks, and you've yet to tell me. Don't shut me out now."

Well in that case, I was going to tie your ass up and beat you will the riding crop. How does that sound, boss? The thought had entered her mind, but she knew there was no way in hell she'd be able to follow through on it now. She was an idiot for even thinking of it.

"Make me breakfast," she said, forcing herself to look at him his reaction. It was exactly what she expected.

He laughed, so hard, in fact, that it startled her at first. 

"Sir, why is that so funny?"

"I don't cook for myself, much less anyone else! Why do you think Jessie cooks for me?"

"A bet's a bet, Sir." 

A sudden breeze smacked her in the face, a much-needed breath of fresh air. Off in the distance, thunder rolled through the hillside.

He sighed. "They said it wasn't going to storm tonight. Guess they lied. Right. Tomorrow morning, then?" She shrugged her shoulders. "What would you like?"

"Bacon and eggs, hmm, sausage links, too; muffins – no, cornbread; blueberry pancakes, just two; yogurt with strawberries and granola; two bananas; three Hershey bars and –"

"Bloody hell, woman! That's enough to feed the entire Royal army!"

Sitting up, again with a loud groan, she added, "Pecan rolls too."

Standing then helping her up, he asked, "And what shall I serve Your Highness to drink?"

After grabbing her clothes and they were walking toward the house, she taking every step very slowly and carefully, answered, "Fresh squeezed orange juice, milk and coffee."

He asked as he opened the back door for her, "No chocolate milk?"

"Oh! That would be great! And I wake up around eight on the weekends, so I think 8:30 would be a good time."

"Oh, little one. You don't know what you're asking for. If I give you food poisoning, I still expect you to clean on Monday."

"I understand, Sir."

"Alright, deal. Breakfast in my bed in the morning."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. "Wait! I never said –"

"Your bet, my rules. I have a few business calls to make. Why don't you go on upstairs and get cleaned up. There's no rush. Meet me in my library. You want to send your family the photos, right?"

She wondered why he was being so nice to her, but deep down she knew. "Yes Sir. Thanks."

"You're welcome. And Gayle," he added as she was walking up the stairs, "You did well. I'm proud of you." 



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 16



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to JonB1969 for his editing skills. This chapter's two bits are from reader's comments, which were really appreciated!

I've written a one-shot story in BDSM, but it didn't really delay getting this chapter out. I've been 'out of sorts' lately. It's called, "Driving Adventure."

We last left off with Hamish punishing Gayle for sassing back to him...in a bad way. She wants a little freedom, but doesn't go about it the right way.

*****

Saturday, September 7th, 2013

"You've been a bad boy, haven't you?" I circle Hamish slowly and deliberately, like prey.

He is standing naked at the foot of his bed, his hands cuffed behind his back and blindfolded. His shoulders are tense, yet he stands strong, his legs occasionally wobbling when I run my fingernail down the small of his back. His cock is rock hard, twinging when I run my fingernails over an ass cheek, then the other.

"Yesss, Ma'am," he grunts. 

Hearing the incorrect title, I smack his right cheek then the left. His cock springs up in response. "Now, now, Mr. McDougal," I say, my tone heavy with authority and mockery, "is that how you are to address me?"

"No, Mistress. I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Yes, I'd say you are pretty sorry. Why are we here?" I ask him, standing beside him so I can get a look at his face.

"Because I burnt your breakfast, Mistress."

"That's right. I think you did it intentionally so I'd have to make it for you. Am I correct?"

He hesitates a moment, and I can tell he's struggling with the correct response. 

Eagerly awaiting his reply, he finally says, exasperated, "No, Mistress. I ... I told you I can't bloody cook!"

It takes everything I have not to laugh, but I do smile. "Well, in that respect you were correct. Do you think I should still punish you?"

I don't care what his reply is. I'm going to enjoy punishing his ass regardless. I am going to tease him relentlessly until he begs me to make him cum.

This time he doesn't hesitate. "If it pleases you, Mistress." His breath is heavy now, causing my swollen pussy to tingle and ache, the moisture building thickly.

"Good answer. You're learning," I say sarcastically. I love using the same words he's used against me. 

Standing in front of him, I look up and down at his taut, muscular body, admiring his effort of working out to be in the best shape possible. 

"Now, remind me again how many sausage links you burned, Mr. McDougal."

"I burned three, Mistress," he croaks, his voice ripe with tension and dread.

"And the toast you happened to crisp to a charcoal black and now only suitable for a hockey puck?"

"All four, Mistress."

"Hmm. So, that's seven. Somehow I don't think that's enough. Should I double or triple the punishment?"

I can see his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallows hard from his foreboding situation. "Whatever pleases you, Mistress."

I'm not sure if he is repeating that because that's what he thinks I want to hear or to make me angry. I don't tell him how many he will receive. Instead, I unlock him from the restraints then instruct him to bend over, place his elbows on the mattress, keeping his forehead on the mattress and his legs together. If I tell him to spread his legs, I just might hit his jewels with the leather strips of the flogger, and Mr. McDougal's jewels are a useful tool; tugging and pulling lightly with a gentle squeeze always gets his full attention.

When he is in position, I slowly run the pads of my fingers up his back, starting from the crack of his ass to the nape of his neck. His skin breaks out in goose flesh as he inhales sharply. I know I have him right where I want him.

"Now, Mr. McDougal, I want you to count off each punishment as I give them to you. You will not be allowed your safe word, but you may use red or yellow if need be. Yellow I will lessen the impact, red I will give you a moment to gather yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress," he sighs.

"Good. I won't tell you how many you will receive, but you will count." Smiling, I stand by his hip, rub his ass once before giving it a good smack. 

"One, Mistress."

Apparently he's been working out his gluteus maximus as well because my hand stings more than his cheek, I am sure. I smack his other cheek with the same impact, and this time I'm sure I broke the bones in my fingers. 

"Two, Mistress," he grunts.

A bolt of lightning from the window distracts me for a moment, and I decide to use the riding crop to save my precious hand. I run the rubber square over his ass cheeks before I swiftly slap each, listening to his reaction. His grunts tell me the impacts are enough, but not too much. With each smack he counts off, and his cheeks grow to a very pretty pink. 

"Eeeeight, Misssstresss."

A deep rumble of thunder fills the room; I am too busy to have noticed the lightning. I spend a moment and rub his cheeks, smiling when he groans at how sensitive his cheeks must be feeling.

"You're doing well, pet," I tell him, satisfied he is taking his punishment very well.

But instead of a reply, I hear a gravelly, throaty snore.

"Mr. McDougal! Am I BORING you?!" I ask, my tone as livid as I can make it.

A sudden flash of lightening causes me to hesitate and look out the window. Sheets of heavy rain are pelting the panes, the instantaneous boom of thunder erasing the falling water streams.

Again, Hamish snores, so I slap each of his ass cheeks, but this time he doesn't count off, nor does he move. I look out the window again, expecting the rain to be gone, but instead it still trails down the window, another flash of lightning and thunder makes me shudder.

I bring my hand back to smack him awake, but the back of my hand vanishes into thin air. "What the ..."

Her legs kicked out from under her, her eyes flew open as she looked at the same window in her dream, the window in Hamish's bedroom. Rain was pounding on the panes from the horrendous wind; a flash of lightning made her close her eyes from the sudden blinding assault. Then she remembered what she was doing in her dream. She was punishing Hamish. 

Hamish!?! What the fuck was I doing?! She rolled over when she heard a snore behind her, and sure enough, Hamish was fast asleep and snoring in his bed. She sighed and threw her head on the pillow, thankful that it was just a dream. Then her bladder screamed at her.

Slowly and carefully, she slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom in the hall, since she was more comfortable going into her bathroom than her boss's. Closing the door, she rested her head in her hand, willing the vision of a Hamish with bright red ass cheeks out of her brain. When she went to wipe herself, she was appalled that she was wet ... wet from the dream? That fact alone instantly woke her up, knowing she was turned on with what she was doing. She didn't have a dominant bone in her body - or did she?

She'd always been self-assured and confident about the decisions she'd had to make in her fairly short life, but she had never controlled anyone else in her life. After her mother's stroke, her confidence had only grown stronger. Still, having a submissive and controlling them was just not who she was.

"Hot chocolate. I need hot chocolate," she mumbled.

Putting on her robe and slippers, she headed downstairs, thankful Bessie stayed in her doggie bed and didn't follow her. Several minutes later, frustrated she couldn't find any, she settled on a cup of coffee and headed back upstairs. For some reason she found herself in the bedroom - soon to be her bedroom, if she behaved herself - and turned on the small lamp just at in the nook. 

Wrapping her arms around her knees on one of the two benches by the window, she watched the raging thunderstorm and sipped her coffee, lost in her thoughts of how excited she'd become from the dream. 

"Gayle?"

She jumped a little, though didn't spill any coffee when she heard his voice. He was standing in the doorway, the light of the hallway giving his profile an almost spooky glow. His hair was all tousled, and his boxers were wrinkled from sleep.

She quickly straightened her legs and put her feet on the floor so as not to flash her boss. "Hi, Sir."

Smiling, he asked, "May I join you?" Bessie, who Gayle hadn't noticed standing behind him, barked. "Oh, excuse me, Princess. May we join you?"

"Sure." After he sat across from her and Bessie lied down at his feet, she said, "I'm sorry I didn't make you any tea. I thought you were sleeping."

He waved his hand. "It's alright. You're quite calm right now." She looked at him confused. "I believe I recall you telling me you get ... hyper during storms."

"Oh, right. I can get hyper, if I'm not half asleep."

"Hmm. How's your bum?"

She should have been used to his abrasiveness, but it still caught her off guard. "It's fine, Sir." 

"No lies, Gayle. How do you feel about earlier, your punishment?"

"What?" The question was out of left field, which stunned her. She hadn't really thought about it. "It, um, took me a while to get to sleep."

He smiled, but she wasn't sure how to take it. "No, I meant what did you learn?"

"To keep my big mouth shut," she replied honestly.

He laughed, just as his face was illuminated by lightning. "That's not really an answer."

She shook her head. "I know, Sir. I deserved it, but I'm not sure I liked not being able to keep some things to myself. I wish -"

Stopping suddenly when a bolt of lightning lit up the small space, her breath caught in the back of her throat, and her mind went completely blank. She hated that familiar, embarrassing burn on her cheeks. He was incredibly gorgeous, more so than she ever had seen him before. His eyes sparkled - rays of amber shot from the corneas. His ruffled hair made him look like a little boy, a precocious, curious, innocent little boy. But fuck, he was hot as hell; that's what her pussy screamed at her. Wanting to run and hide, fearing he'd read her thoughts, she turned and stared out the window.

They sat in silence for several long minutes before she said, "I get hyper during thunderstorms because one summer, when I was with Granny and Grandad in Florida, a tropical storm came through. It scared the shit out of me. I went crying and screaming into the bathroom and locked the door." She laughed at the memory. "I wouldn't come out until Granny promised me hot chocolate. Anyone could have bribed me with hot chocolate."

He smiled at her. "I'll have to remember that."

Taking a sip, she said, "I thought it was strange how the birds sound different here, but the thunder does too."

He laughed. "Yes, that is a little odd, I must say."

Again there was silence between them. Gayle fought with herself whether she should tell him about her dream. After all, he'd told her he considered withholding anything akin to lying. But this wasn't anything she did. It was a dream. A very strange and sexually charged dream.

"Gayle?" She looked up at him. "Open your robe and spread your legs."

"Wha'?!" Not now, not here. Not after -

"You're wet, aren't you?" he asked, his tone laden with lust.

Her stomach dropped and her pussy tingled at his accusation. "How did ... How do you know?" Nothing short of putting an iceberg on her cheeks would keep them from burning crimson.

"I'm a jack of all trades, lass," he replied, sitting up straighter. 

Oh, he knew, alright. He could smell her lust, see her chest rise and fall at exposing her sex to him, see her nipples pressing against the thin material of the robe. Aside from that, his other little princess talked in her sleep, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

It wasn't the fact that she was half asleep that lowered her inhibitions but the fact that for the first time in five weeks, she wanted to. Never before had she gotten blue balls - for women, it's that painful time when she is so turned on, so wet and horny that her clit has swollen and begging for attention. 

Keeping her eyes locked onto his, wishing her heart would stop pounding so damned hard, she slid a forefinger down her breastbone to her stomach, allowing the hem of her robe to part slowly, teasingly. With her other hand, she slowly pulled the belt at the waist to untie the knot; at the same time spreading her knees. As wet as she was, she felt her juices drip out from her cunt as her pussy was finally on display.

He gave her a crooked smile, he leaned forward, and raised a single eyebrow, though kept his hands to himself. She tried to avoid looking at the tent that was now displayed in his boxers, the tip peeking through the hole. 

Her mouth went dry at the thought of what she wanted to do with it.

Now that she had his full attention, she brought her hands up to the collar of the robe and pulled it down her shoulders until it fell on either side of her. She sat there trying to catch her breath but failed miserably.

"You are an incredibly beautiful woman, Gayle. Have I told you that?" he growled, leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.

His deep, sultry voice sent a wave of chills through her. 

Her cheeks turned a blood red. "Yes Sir," she replied bashfully.

"Do you fancy me?" he asked, his tone changing to apprehension.

She sighed heavily and had a mental battle with herself. Tell him she's attracted to him, and it changes the dynamic between them. If she tells him no, things remain the same: She continues to give herself to him and pretend she doesn't enjoy it.

"Gayle?"

Well, fuck. "I love your accent."

Hamish's head flew back as he laughed and shook his head. "You Americans go daft for our accents."

"Yeah, that's true, at least for me." Running her hands through her hair, she told him, "Ham ... Sir, I think you're sexy, and ... I love your eyes. And you're -"

Stopping in mid-sentence, he knelt in front of her - gently pushing a grumbling Bessie aside - put his hands on the outside of Gayle's thighs and looked over her face. He sighed heavily, having his own inner battle. Reaching his hand up, he cupped her face, circling his thumb over her upper cheek. 

"And I'm what, Gayle?"

Oh, dear heaven, someone kill me now! 

"Say it. What else do you think of me?"

"You have been kind and thoughtful, though sometimes you have a funny way of showing it. You're gentle, and you can be fun. And," she started, shrugging her shoulders and giving him a little teasing grin, "you're cute, I guess."

"Not handsome?" he asked, slowly sliding his hands up the inside of her thighs.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she gasped for air. Leaning back, slowly giving into his advances, she replied, "Sometimes."

His thumbs traced along her labia, pinched them together that added pressure to her clit. She closed her eyes, afraid he could smell her sex, just as she could. He moved his left hand to her hip, gently kneading her flesh as he ran the pad of his thumb from her drenched, hot cunt to her clit.

"Hmm, little fawn, you are very, very wet. What, pray tell, ever got you in such a state?" 

He pulled his hands back and placed them on her knees and scooted up a few inches.

Ranting, speaking so fast even she couldn't understand what she was saying, she told him, "I had a dream I was ... using the riding crop on you because you burned breakfast but then the storm woke me up."

Raising an eyebrow, he gave her a crooked smile. "I take it you enjoyed spanking my bum?" he asked, his voice teasing.

There was no way she could get out of the fix she was in. "Not really, no, not at all."

"Good. I wouldn't like it either." Standing up, he said, "Come on. Let's get back to bed."

A few minutes later, they were back in Hamish's bed, Gayle lying on her right side facing away from him. She was mortified, but whether it was from the dream or the fact that she was still horny as hell, she didn't know. Her clit was still throbbing and painful, and no matter how she positioned her legs, the aching never went away.

Trying to go back to sleep was extremely difficult because Hamish had cuddled with her, his heart pounding against her back, his hand laying gently on her shoulder. What was worse was that his still rock hard cock pressed against her ass cheeks. She wanted him - really wanted him. She'd never instigated the sex before, and she didn't know if he'd even go for it. But then again, what man would turn it down?

Giving it a shot, she grabbed his hand on her shoulder and brought it down in front of her until his arm draped over her waist. Without any prompting from her, he cupped her breast, squeezed it a few times before he relaxed it.

Moving before she even realized it, she rolled over onto her side and looked into his eyes longingly, apparently conveying to him what she wanted. Smiling, she put her hand up to the back of his head and gently pushed his head toward hers until their lips met. Both of their eyes still open, their kiss grew as their lips melded together, both of the hearts pounding in perfect rhythm.

Hamish took Gayle's right hand into his and pulled it up over her head, holding it firmly; with his other hand he ran it up and down her body slowly, caressing every inch of her but leaving her pussy alone. With his flattened hand, he circled it over her erect nipple, eliciting a soft moan from her as she finally closed her eyes. With every scrape of his fingernail from her neck to her inner thighs brought goose bumps over her entire body.

"Hmm, Sssssirrrr," she mumbled as their lips parted, though she was too embarrassed to look at him. "Do you think you could ... I mean, it's been two weeks since I've been using the plug daily. I'm pretty empty. Do you want to try ... you know?"

"I wouldn't have thought you were up for it yet. Are you sure?" he asked.

"Not really, but ..." She laughed nervously.

"Well, I'm not laughing," he replied. "Let me just get lube."

Pushing himself away from her, rolling onto his back then his other side, he had such a momentum going that he couldn't stop himself in time before he headed off the bed, head first, his feet flailing in the air as he yelped for help in a very manly scream.

"Hamish!" Gayle screamed as she threw herself off the bed with her head hanging over, looking down on him. He was lying on his back, his head just an inch away from the nightstand. "Are you okay?!"

Bessie, her tail wagging vigorously and licking his face even more so, was afraid her daddy was hurt. "Bloody hell, dog! Get off!" he grunted, pushing her away.

Gayle burst into a fit of laughter, which didn't make him very happy. "Seriously, are you hurt?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and looked up at her angrily. "Yes, I'm hurt!"

Between chuckles, she replied, "Your pride, maybe."

"Yeah, well," he grumbled as he sat up. "It's certainly nothing to laugh about."

"Yes, it is. I wanted doggie, but you got it instead."

Finally, he couldn't hold back his own laughter and laughed along with her as he got on his feet, pulled out the bottle of lube and condom from the nightstand and took off his boxers. Fortunately for the both of them, he was still hard. 

"Make some room for me, lass," he barked, but flashed her a grin.

"Well, let's see if I can do this more gracefully than you just did," she teased as she scooted over facing him.

"Oh, hush, will you!" he spat as he slipped on the bed.

Controlling her laughter, she watched him as he got on his knees toward the end of the bed and patted his thigh. "Are you still up for this?" she asked seriously.

He grumbled again, reached down and held his dick. "No worries here." Then he slipped on the condom.

Getting braver than she'd ever had before, she got on her knees facing him. Putting her hand out, she asked, "May I?"




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 16



Without a word, he gave her the bottle. She poured some into her hand and covered his cock until it glistened, but she was thrilled with the extra lubricant, so she eased her hand up and down his cock, squeezing at the base before she stopped.

"Sir, please take it slow, okay? Can I tell you if -"

Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hands and brushed his bottom lip against her top before the kiss grew into one of passion and heat. Sliding one hand up his arms, she again held onto his cock and massaged it, alternating the pressure, and with the other ran her fingernails over to stomach up to his chest, slowly digging her fingers through his chest hair.

Sighing heavily, he pulled back and whispered, "Lass, I'm not going to be able to hold out much longer if you keep that up."

Giving him an evil grin, she turned around and got on her knees and hands, her tits pressing against the mattress. "No. Keep your back straight. I want a firm hold of your lovely breasts."

Once she was in position, she tried to force herself to relax, especially her ass muscles, but it was harder than she imagined it would be. He cooed to her softly, reassuring her to relax and that he wasn't going to hurt her as he applied more lube on the puckered tissue. 

"Relax, love. I'm just going to run my thumb over your hole to relax the muscles further. Once you're relaxed enough, tell me. Alright?"

"Yes Sir." She braced herself, grabbing onto the bed sheet and bundling it in her hands.

Gently, he did as he said for a moment before he slowly inserted the tip of his cock, resting every centimeter or so to allow her to adjust to his size. Groaning from the back of her throat, she forced her hole to relax and take his width. He put his hands on her hips and massaged her flesh. 

At first, his cock was definitely felt huge inside of her, but the muscles loosened enough for him to go deeper. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't unpleasant, either.

Suddenly, he reached a point that was painful, and she screamed out for him to stop. "Hold it!" she panted, looking back at him. "Let me ... let me ..."

Not finishing her sentence, she pushed her ass against him painstakingly slow until the head of his cock finally easily slipped past the point of agony. 

"Hmm, much ... better," she groaned and relaxed once more.

"You're doing well, little one. I'm half way in. When you're ready, fuck my cock. You're in charge now."

His words sent a shudder through her, and her pussy tingled in anticipation. Moments later, her ass cheeks smacked against his crotch in perfect rhythm. Her moans and groans were matched with his as heat was generated between them. 

"Hmm, yes," she mumbled against the mattress. "Sirrr, that feeeels good."

"Yes, lass, it does," he murmured breathlessly. "Come when you need to."

"Hmm mmmh, not yet."

The rocking of Gayle's body grew more fervent as she neared her orgasm, surprising the hell out of her. Her whimpering and heavy breathing told Hamish she was close, but he was quite there yet. He leaned forward until his lower stomach was flush above her ass cheeks and grabbed onto her breasts.

She pulled back a little to allow him more access, resulting in his chest against her back. With his hot breath blowing in her ears with his cooing and grunts, her orgasm tore through her before she even realized it was coming. Gripping onto her hips again, he pushed his cock in as far as it would go and held it there, loving the feel of the muscles around it.

"Oh, fuuuck!" she cried out as her legs curled, her feet grasping onto his waist. 

"That's it, little fawn. Let it come."

Arching her back, her body convulsed as she continued to spurt out curse word after curse word. It took all he had not to laugh, considering she never cursed so much before.

"Okay, okay," she grumbled. "It'sss, it's starting to ... hurt."

Not replying, he gently and slowly pulled out as she collapsed onto the bed. "Stay right there," he told her as he ran his flat hand up and down her back. "Relax. Control your breathing."

"'Mmmkay."

Smiling, he kissed her cheek and got off the bed for the bathroom to remove the condom. When he returned, she was lying on her back under the covers, her arm over her forehead and still breathing heavily; she'd pulled the bed sheet down on his side.

Slipping under the covers, he pressed his body against hers, and she accepted him. They wrapped their arms and legs around the other, her head nestling against his neck. Both sighing at the same time, they relaxed.

"Sir? Your heart is still pounding. I like ..."

He pulled his head back and looked over her shadowed face. "You like what?"

She hesitated a moment and bashfully replied, "I like hearing your heart beat."

"Oh, lass. You say the sweetest things."

Frowning as a thought occurred to her, she asked, "Did you come?"

"No, I didn't."

"What? You didn't? Did I do something wrong?"

Smiling, he brushed her hair away from her temples. "No, love, not at all. You did great. I don't have to come every time."

Thinking a minute, she asked, "But you're a man. You're supposed to -"

His soft laughter silenced her. "No worries. Let's get some sleep." Her expression never changed. "Don't fret. I am quite pleased."

The truth was, he had climaxed. What she didn't know was that his climaxes varied, just as hers did from what he could tell. 

She didn't really believe him. Finally settling down again, she still wondered why he hadn't come. But before she could find an answer, sleep found her quickly.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Slowly waking up, Gayle stretched and yawned to get the kinks out of her bones. When her hand hit Hamish's pillow, it startled her completely awake, afraid she'd hit him in the head. She sat up and called out for him, but he didn't answer. Looking at the clock, she groaned when she saw it was just before 8:00; usually on the weekend, she'd been waking up around nine. The light in the bathroom being off, she could see he wasn't in there, and there was no sleeping Bessie on the bed. Then it dawned on her that he might be making breakfast.

After she used the bathroom and cleaned herself up, she headed to her bedroom to change into an apron she hadn't worn yet. While her conservative, sensible nature spoke over the fact she was feeling a little frisky, she chose the black, sheer, full-body apron with pink trim over the breasts, waist and hem. Her tush still was exposed, but at least the netting covered her crotch and breasts, although her nipples poked through ever so slightly. 

For the first time in her somewhat short life, she felt sexy, wanted and confident in her sexuality. She was finding herself, and while she was appalled at what she'd discovered thus far - experiencing climaxes she'd never before imagined, feeling desirable and finding what she needed, even beginning to enjoy sex - she didn't want to keep her new-found freedom hidden. It was time for her to explore her sexuality before she went back home, continued her education, married and had children. That latter she put far in the back of her mind, for it seemed a world.

As she walked down the hall adjacent to the dining room, she heard a piano at the far end that came from the dining room. She'd completely forgotten about the piano being in there, being that she hadn't gone in there except for when she took the tour on her second day in Scotland.

When she reached the door, she saw it wasn't closed all the way but cracked enough that she could hear every note of the tune, though she didn't recognize it. It was lively and upbeat, and it took all she had to stop herself from starting a jig, or worse yet, start to clog with the theme from Riverdance in her head. 

But then the music changed to a slow, soft, beautiful tune. Closing her eyes, she found herself getting lost in it, imagining lying in a meadow of wildflowers staring up at the sky, a stream adding the additional instruments. A smile slow grew on her lips. Then the melody drifted and became sad, very emotionally charged, and in her imagination a storm rolled in. Her smile melted away.

She stood listening for a second before she accidentally leaned forward, making the door creak loudly and slide open, giving her away. Stopping in time from falling into the room, Bessie started barking and ran to the door, Hamish screaming after her.

"I'm sorry, Sir!" Gayle gasped as she opened the door all the way so Bessie wouldn't attack her for not knowing it was her. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I'm leaving."

"Don't fret, lass," Hamish said as he approached the door. 

He looked gorgeous, so she thought. He was wearing a white undershirt and an old pair of sweat pants. Regardless, he hadn't combed his hair and still had that adorable boyish look to him.

"What was that you were playing, Sir? You play beautifully."

"Thank you. It was Skye Boat, a Scottish folk song. I got a little sidetracked on my way to burning ... I mean making breakfast." He suddenly stopped himself from talking and looked her up and down, seemingly for the first time. "You look lovely this morning."

Her cheeks blushed, and she turned to walk out, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him until their chests crashed together. Her mouth gaped open in surprise.

"I'll never tire of your bashfulness, Gayle." Bending over, he gave her a quick morning kiss. "How's your bum?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "It's fine. You seem really concerned about my tush, Sir."

Grinning, he replied, "Because I happen to adore your bum. Are you ready?"

Her eyes flew open. "Sir, it was only my first time, and -"

He laughed. "I meant breakfast, you ninny." 

Shaking her head at her stupid comment, she said, "Oh. Sure." Walking out into the hall toward the kitchen, she teased him but tried to sound serious. "You are supposed to serve me breakfast in bed, Sir. A bet's a bet."

He clasped his hands together as if in prayer, got on one knee and looked up at her, pleading, "Please don't punish me with the riding crop, Mistress. I'll be a good chap, I promise."

Grinning at his playfulness, she put her hands on her hips. "Just make me a cup of coffee, please."

"Oh, thank you, Mistress," he replied as he got back on his feet. "I'd be most happy to prepare your hot beverage."

"Oh, stop, Sir," she chuckled as they continued to walk. "You're making me feel ... weird."

"Right. I agree with you. I don't have a submissive bone in my body. Have a seat."

A few minutes later, he handed her a cup, which she immediately took a sip. "Perfect."

"Of course. I do everything perfectly ... except possibly cooking. We'll find out momentarily."

"Oh, about that -"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You want more than the grocery list you read off last night?"

"No, Sir. I was just being a smart ass."

"That's good to know, but I already know you are."

He did know she was quite sassy, that was for sure. But if he was being honest with himself, he liked that she had some sass to her, not to mention her willingness to try anal after her short training. It told him one thing: she was beginning to trust him. He couldn't have asked anything more from her. 

"Well, Sir, you said you liked my ass, so I have to keep up my reputation."

He laughed. "Very true. So, what is it you would like to eat?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Whatever you'd like to make me, Sir."

He grinned back. "That's not very Mistressy of you."

"No, it isn't. What can I say?"

"Well, at least you realize that. Why don't you take Bessie out and get the morning paper for me."

Smiling, she stood, gave a small curtsy, the said in a British accent, "Yes Sire. I would be most honored and humbled to do so." 

Narrowing his eyes at her, yet grinning, he told her, "I said I like a little sass."

When Gayle and Bessie returned to the kitchen, Gayle stopped in the doorway and watched Hamish as he scrambled eggs in a bowl while the smell of bacon crisping in the pan filled her nostrils. He might have said he couldn't cook, but he was on his toes and definitely in charge. 

And for some odd reason, he was sexy as hell. She'd never watched a man make a meal before, but she wished he was cooking naked. The taut shirt showed his bulging muscles, but unfortunately his sweat pants added no sex appeal at all; he could have been more thoughtful and worn something that showed off his just-the-right-size-to-squeeze butt cheeks.

"Ow. Ow! Fuck! Hot!" Hamish cursed as he turned the strips of bacon.

Bessie barked, giving Gayle away. "You've got the pan too hot," she dared to say as she walked in and stood beside him.

"Yes, I can see that. Thank you, Chef Boyce," he snapped teasingly. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get the bread from the pantry."

"Got it."

When she returned, she asked if he needed any help, but he said he was fine ... until the bacon was done, and he didn't know whether to start the eggs before he mixed the pancake mix before he prepared the mushrooms and tomatoes. 

"Sir, why don't you let me help you? I don't mind."

"Actually, yes," he said relieved. "I will do the vegetables. Since you make fabulous pancakes, can you make those while I do the eggs?"

Smiling, happy that he accepted her help, she said, "Sure thing."

They worked in the kitchen together brilliantly, seeming to know where the other was going so they could get out of the way before pans smashed together, spilling their food all over the floor - which would have made a very happy dog. When it was almost all done, Hamish ordered Gayle upstairs to his bedroom to wait for him. 

About fifteen minutes later, after she'd tried different sexy positions to pose in for him before she gave up, he finally came up and set the tray at the end of the bed. Her jaw dropped when she saw three roses, from the garden, she was sure, set in a small vase, two covered plates, a bowl of cut-up fruit, a tri-dish of jams and butter, a pouring cup of syrup and two glasses of orange juice.

"Oh, Sir! The tray looks great. I wasn't expecting the fruit," she said as she sat up, keeping the sheet over her breasts.

"Bessie cut them up for me," he snickered then looked at her and frowned. "Why are you still dressed?"

"Oh, um, well ... I'm not used to eating completely naked."

"In my bed, Ms. Boyce, no one wears a stitch of clothing."

"Oh. Well, I'm practically nude anyway," she huffed as she got out of bed and slipped out of the apron.

"Much, much better, but you can lose the attitude," he said as he got on his side of the bed and pulled the tray to him. "Now get up here and eat before it gets cold."

Putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head, she noted, "Sir? If your rule is to be naked in your bed, then why are you still dressed?"

He snapped, "Didn't I say lose the attitude?"

"There's no attitude, Sir. I'm just asking a question, a very good question."

He considered her words for a moment. "Well, I get your point. What's good for the goose is good for the gander."

"Thank you, Sir. That's all I'm saying." 

She grinned as she got on the bed and pulled the tray between her closed knees, adjacent to Hamish's side. Uncovering the plates, which were identical, she saw from her peripheral vision him pulling off his t-shirt. Watching him, it was the first time she'd ever noticed hewas blushing. If he didn't look like a little boy when she first saw him in the dining room, his reddened cheeks only added to it.

After he threw his shirt on the couch and it settled on the arm rest as if he actually placed it there, she noticed, also for the first time, that he appeared to have been working out, just as she had seen him in her dream. While she hadn't consciously noticed it before, on some deep level she must have. He wasn't super-buff - she didn't like her men looking like the Hulk - but his chest and forearms were definitely more defined than when she first saw him naked. 

Keeping eye contact with her, he pulled down the sweats and stepped out of them. A lump caught in her throat at seeing him naked, but it wasn't like she'd never seen him naked before. Even his thighs looked tight. 

Swallowing hard, she asked, "When have you been working out?" 

"It's about bloody time you took notice," he replied with a smirk.

Kicking away the sweats, he started posing to show off his pecks and forearms then turned around and flexed his ass cheeks. Gayle roared with laughter, which caused Hamish to turn around and give her a sharp look.

"What the hell are you laughing at?!" 

"I ... I'm sorry, Sir! Really," she replied quickly. "I just ... wasn't expecting you to ..." She took in several deep breaths. "Your tush is so ..."

"Oh, drop it," he said as he sat on the bed carefully so as not to spill anything from the tray. 

Finally forcing herself to stop chuckling, she told him, "You caught me off guard, is all. I do like your tush, Sir."

He mumbled something under his breath, but she didn't ask him to repeat it; she was afraid he was mad. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she told him, "Sir, I have noticed but just didn't say anything. You do look ... good."

He wasn't angry. He just loved putting her on the spot then watching her squirm her way out. 

"Enough, already. The food is getting cold."

"Right, okay. How do you want to do this?" 

"I've always found it easiest to put the food on the fork then between my teeth, but you can do it any way you want."

She laughed heartily, making her breasts bounce and jiggle. He narrowed a single eye, but then he gave her a crooked smile. 

"I deserved that. I meant do you want the plate in your lap or what?"

"Feed me," he said seriously. Her eyes flew open, as did her mouth from shock. "I'm teasing."

After they got done eating, Gayle took the tray downstairs, let Bessie out then went back to Hamish's bedroom. When she entered, she had to force herself to keep walking so as not to give away at how ... sexy he looked. He was lying in bed with the bed sheet just above his waist, which was hidden by the Sunday paper.

Bessie immediately jumped on the bed, but he didn't fuss at her to get off, which surprised Gayle. The dog had her own bed, after all. But she just figured it was a Sunday morning tradition.

Slipping off her bathroom and out of her slippers, she got on the bed under the covers, but Bessie bounced on her, licking her face. "No. No. I'll buy you a toy when I go next week." 

After Bessie settled down at the foot of the bed, she said, "I can't believe how cold it's getting already. It feels like January at home."

"Oh, get used to it. You'll be in a parka by December."

"Ugh. Why couldn't I have accepted a job in the Bahamas or someplace warm?"

"Because here you have beautiful countryside and warm-hearted Scots."

"Hmm, that's true, if only from the little corner of your world ... Oh! I didn't mean that snotty or anything!"

He shook his head. "Don't worry, lass. We've got plenty of time for me to show you around. Now hush, and let me finish reading my paper."

"Sorry, Sir."

She watched him for several minutes as he read. With a full stomach, she was finding it hard to keep her eyes open, so she closed them and just relaxed. 

"Oor Wullie," Hamish suddenly said.

She wasn't sure she heard him correctly, but she thought it was only fair since she'd gotten off the night before but he hadn't. So, with a sly grin, she slid completely under the covers, settled between his knees and wrapped his cock flaccid around her lips. The newspaper rustled above her and his legs jerked as she started to suck and run her tongue around the head.

"Bloody hell, woman! What the ... hmmphggh... carry on!"

Trying not to laugh, being it would ruin the moment, she continued to suck and lick his cock until it grew in her mouth. Knowing she had him where she wanted him, she took her hand and ran it up and down the shaft, all the while licking and teasing the tip. She loved hearing his moans and groans and the occasional bending of his knees when she hit a sensitive spot.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 16



Her heart started to race from the power she had over him, and she was going to take advantage of it since he didn't tell her to stop. She was beginning to have a little trouble breathing, and luckily he pulled the sheet down to her shoulders and brushed her hair away from her face so he could watch her.

"That feels amazing, little fawn. Bring your hand up to the head and let your lips touch your hand," he told her. "Get a good rhythm with your mouth and hand."

Doing as she was told, it didn't take long before he was moaning breathlessly, and she knew he was ready to come. Tightening her grip with her hand on the shaft, she worked the top half of his engorged cock with her tongue until she felt the familiar spasms of the nerves.

His legs grew stiff, and he muttered, "Don' ... staww ..."

A second later, he pushed her head down harder, making her take his entire length before he came directly down her throat. She'd never tasted his cum before, and at first she didn't want to. But it tasted sweet, although it was thick, chalky. 

Breathlessly, Hamish grunted, "Thank you, lass, but what prompted that ... surprise?"

Withdrawing his cock from her mouth, she replied, "Um, you said 'poor Willie.' I thought you, um, wanted -"

His laughter silenced her. "It's a cartoon. Wullie's always getting himself in trouble."

"Oh. I feel like an idiot now. Are you mad?"

He didn't get a chance to reply because Bessie barked and jumped up on his pillow, licking his chest from where something good tasting must have dribbled. "Bessie! For fuck's sake!"

Gayle picked her head up and saw the dog licking his face as he tried to push her away. Grinning wickedly, Gayle laid down beside him again. Bessie must have thought it was her care-taker's turn to lick and jump on all over, and she did just that.

"Bessie! For ... fuck's sake!" Gayle spat then laughed because she'd said the exact words in the same Scottish accent. Bessie laid down between them, still looking for attention. "I swear, by the time I heave here I'm going to have a Scottish accent."

"That's not such a bad thing, lass. You'll pick up a lot of men."

"Nah. The Scottish, sexy rogue accent only works with women."

Suddenly, it dawned on Hamish what he'd said. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to be seeing other men. But she wasn't home yet, and he still had time to ...

"Hamish, Sir. Didn't you say you had a date tonight?" she asked him, making him lose his train of thought.

"Oh, right. I do. But that's not until seven. In the meantime, while I'm gone, I want you to read the book of poems by Robert Burns. I'll give you a list of which ones to read."

She sat up and slipped her legs over the bed, remembering she had to use the bathroom, or at least to brush her teeth.

"Lass, I'm quite serious," he said as he looked at her a little cross.

"Oh, sorry, Sir. I will. Can I do it after I talk to Dad and Catelyn?"

He smiled warmly at her. "Of course."

"Thanks. And thanks for breakfast. I'm so full I won't need to eat lunch."

Later that night ...

Gayle had built a fire in the drawing room, a blanket over her as she lay on the couch, Bessie asleep on the floor, and the same poet's book in her lap that Hamish had pulled off his bookshelf weeks earlier. He'd made her keep the book on her nightstand, but she'd never picked it up - hell, she still hadn't picked up the Stephen King novel she'd brought with her, which caused a wicked punishment.

It was 9:30, and she'd read all five poems on the list, the longest three times. Her mind kept wandering as to whether Hamish was having a good time, or that the woman would be at least somewhat good for him. But it didn't help. The meaning of every poem escaped her, and she was becoming drowsy from all the overthinking.

She jumped a bit when Bessie perked her head up then went tearing into the hallway, and shortly returned escorting Hamish, who threw himself into his chair with a heavy sigh.

Sitting up, Gayle asked, "Welcome home. Do you need a drink, Sir?"

"Fuck, yes," he sighed heavily.

After she fixed his drink, she handed it to him and sat back down on the couch, waiting for him to have a few sips before she said anything but didn't wrap herself up in the blanket. Being naked, the warmth from the fire was just enough to keep her warm.

Thankfully, a few minutes later, Hamish asked, "So, did you read the poems?"

Nodding, she replied, "I did. 'Address to the Deil' went over my head. I'm not sure if it was about the devil, his granny or a forest. But I really liked 'Up Early in the Morning'. It reminded me of the winter mornings when I was in high school, and Catelyn and I would sit by the TV waiting for the newscasters to announce Montgomery County schools were closed for the day. When it was, Mom would make French toast then we'd head on back to bed, dreaming of the stellar snow balls fights we'd have when we get up."

Although it was a happy memory, the pain of the conversation she'd had earlier with her dad about her mom made her sad. Hamish picked up on it, and patted his knee. When she had settled in his lap, she automatically put her head on his shoulder. 

Brushing her hair from her face, he said, "Gayle, I am truly sorry your mom is so sick. I'm even more sorry you're here because of it."

She heard what he said, and while a part of her was shocked, she was no less touched. Pulling her head back, "Sir ... Hamish, if it weren't for you she wouldn't have the quality of care she's getting now. She's comfortable, though there hasn't been any change. And Dad has even gained ten pounds. Catelyn is getting all As, so you've helped my family more than you know."

He smiled down on her so sweetly, and she was even more flabbergasted at his honesty and his compassion. She didn't know whether it was because she was sleepy, or she was beginning to feel something else for him.

Putting that thought immediately out of her head, she said, "I take it your date sucked?"

"It was a travesty," he said. "I'd rather have a root canal with no pain killer, gout in both knees and an autopsy."

END NOTE: Skye Boat is a very beautiful song. Look on youtube under the title and John Boswell.



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 17



AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Thanks to an ill MastersWench, who through her feverish brain found a way to kick me on the right path and catch my stupid blunders! 'Preciate you, girl! And thanks to my Scots friend for his linguistic skills!!

We last left off a week earlier with Hamish and Gayle having breakfast in bed for her winning the bet and a horrible second date for Hamish. 

*****

Friday, September 13th, 2013

Cupar Town Centre, Hamish's Office

Hamish was having a horrible day, not that work was overloading him, but because he couldn't find anything on the Boyce family in Montgomery County, Maryland to confirm Gayle's ancestry. He was on a genealogy website and thought it would be easy to trace it with Gayle's father's name, John. But that wasn't the case. 

He was so frustrated he got on the phone with her dad to ask for her paternal grandfather's name and vital information, explaining he wanted to present Gayle with her genealogy as a Christmas gift. Her father was thrilled and told him she would love it.  

So, while he was working on that, a silent little box in the top right hand corner of his computer monitor showed Gayle cleaning the front drawing room, pushing and pulling the Hoover in rhythm to a song on the radio. Again, he practically drooled as she swayed her hips back and forth and singing dramatically, a little too dramatic, as at times she'd use the handle as a microphone and sing toward Bessie, who was looking at her two-legged friend like she'd lost her mind.

Then he thought of something. Waiting for her to turn the Hoover off, he sent her a text. 'Be dressed when I get home. We're going out for dinner as soon as I get home'

Wrapping the cord around the vacuum cleaner, he watched as she pulled out her phone from her apron. She began typing, then he received, 'Dress up? As in jeans?'

Reading her message, he messaged back, 'I want you looking bonnie, not a tattyboggle'

She frowned in confusion. 'i don't know who Bonnie is, and i don't know what a tattyboggle is! Are You referring to skirt and nice sweater?'

He smiled. 'No, naked. Skirt and sweater, ninny'

'That would be great! Few leftovers. Can i get drunk, Sir?' She grinned, having no intention of doing so.

'No you cannot!'

'Fien. Should i wait for You by Your chair?'

'no need'

'I'll be ready when You get here'

He frowned, but then a smile slowly crossed over his lips. She'd been behaving herself the past few weeks, and there had been no punishments, which he was a little disappointed in. But now he had her. He sent, 'I've noted your use of upper case i.'

Setting his cell phone on his desk, being that he was done with texting her, he grinned when he saw her hit her knee with a fist and shaking her head. She needn't have worried, though. He wouldn't punish her... too badly.

Picking up his cell phone, he texted, 'On second thought, be in your room, undressed, and stand at ease at the foot of the bed'

Back at Hamish's castle...

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit." 

Gayle was having a pretty good day... until the last text from Hamish. But then again, she hadn't been punished in weeks, and she had been wanting to visit the dungeon again, though she had no clue whatsoever why she felt that way. Yes, the dungeon was a torture chamber, but so far, Hamish hadn't really tortured her. In her defense, the cell phone auto corrects, and that included the 'i' and 'I,' which she normally caught and changed. This time she didn't. And she'd have to pay.

So, she finished her cleaning on time and took a bath, shaving to get herself 'in proper tidiness' that he required of her. This time, however, was different than the other days she'd prepped herself before his arrival home. It was like every nerve ending was electrically charged, and it went straight to her pussy. 

She admitted to herself that she enjoyed the sex with Hamish, and while they had some about twice a week, she was beginning to want it more often. But what shocked her the most was that she was constantly in a state of arousal.

Then she remembered that he had never said anything about his date Sunday night with the new woman, so she chalked it up to 'another one bites the dust' then promptly began to sing the famous Queen tune to quell her nerves.

By the time she dried and styled her hair and put on make-up, ironed the skirt Hamish had bought her and laid the beautiful cashmere sweater out on the bed, along with her heels on the floor, she had fifteen minutes to wait for him. Searching her brain for the correct position, she finally spread her legs wide, put her hands behind her back, shoulder back and boobies out, holding her body taut. She stared at the door. Now she was being tortured. 

During the short wait time, her heart began to pound in her chest, but the sensation in her crotch hadn't let up. In fact, it got worse, and she was even growing wet. She didn't know why - whether it was the fact he'd ordered her to be as she was, or the fact she would be punished after dinner, or the fact...

The wooden floors in the hallways suddenly creaked, and she knew Hamish was on his way. Taking one long, deep breath, his shadow in the doorway grew into the man himself. She swore her heart stopped as he stepped into the room, and she watched him, but in her peripheral vision only she could see he had one arm behind his back as if holding something, but she couldn't see what it was.

Stepping to her, he cupped her face gently with one hand and kissed her lips, being careful not to smear the lipstick but enough for her to feel the warmth and softness of his lips. Pulling back, he smiled. "You look braw, Ms. Boyce."

"What does that mean, Sir?"

He shook his head. "You look very nice."

She sighed in relief, knowing then that her apprehension was based on his approval, which she apparently had received. "Thank you, Sir."

"Remove your collar then put your arms up." 

As she removed the collar and threw it on the bed, he brought his arm forward and she saw the rope and a twenty inch black cord, double-corded, with two small rings on either end. To anyone else, it would simply look like a necklace with no pendant.

He threw the rope on the floor, then said, "This you will wear just for tonight. I can't have you parading around in my collar in public, now can I?"

"No Sir, I guess not."

After he placed the black cord around her neck, the metal ring lay between her breasts, while she could feel another ring between her shoulder blades. He then unbound the long length of rope, making Gayle swallow hard. He'd tied her up in a body harness before, and she liked it then. But then again, she wasn't in it for very long. 

For the next several minutes, he brought the rope through the ring of the cord in the front, brought it under both armpits to the other ring on her back, brought it back to the front then bound the rope several times around her breasts, then once more on the ring between her breasts. What shocked her this time was that he brought a single length down her stomach to between her pussy lips and clit, right up and over her anus.

Standing behind her, he said, "I'm going to pull on the rope before I tie it in place. I want it taut but not too tight. There must be some friction but not so much that it's painful."

She nodded and held her breath as he tugged on the rope, and sure enough, there was plenty of friction to begin with. But as he lightly jerked it, it became almost unbearable.

"Okay, okay! That's good, Sir!" she squealed as she got on her tip toes before he'd split her in two.

After he tied it securely, he stood in front of her. "How does it feel?" he asked, his tone clearly telling her he knew the rope was tormenting her.

Pushing her shoulders forward slightly, her mouth flew open when the rope pressed even harder against her pussy and clit, not to mention her ass. "Ohh, my... It's tighter down..." She then shook her shoulders back and forth, but her breasts barely moved. "Hey! I won't need to wear a bra!" She chuckled.

"No, you won't, nor will you wear undies tonight," Hamish retorted.

"Wait, what? You want me to wear this to dinner?" she asked aghast.

"Under your clothes, of course."

"How am I going to move around without it... It's right on my clit! It's going to make me -"

"No, it won't, because I will not allow you to cum."

"You wouldn't..." she challenged him.

"Ohhhh, yes I would, and I will. Do you recall your text earlier?" 

She nodded. "This is my punishment? You can't."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you arguing with me? I could cancel the reservations -"

"No! No!" she almost shouted. "I mean, I'm just... surprised."

"Oh, you will be after you wear it for twenty minutes. Now dress. I'll meet you downstairs."

After he left her alone, she took one step toward the side of the bed and groaned. Every step, every inch she took the rope rubbed against her clit so badly she tried to cross her legs for some relief, but it did nothing to alleviate the grazing of her nub and pussy.

"Lord, help me get through supper!"

On the road...

"So, how are you holding up?" Hamish asked as they got on the main road.

"Can you bring me my meal in the car?" Gayle asked jokingly.

"Absolutely not. Again, tonight it will be appropriate for you to call me Hamish. Enjoy yourself, alright?"

"I'll try. But what if I... what am I supposed to do if... This is cruel and unusual punishment, I'll have you know," she said teasingly but immediately regretted saying it.

He laughed, though. "Yes, it is, but I bet you won't forget to capitalize the 'I' in texts, will you?" His tone was menacing yet light.

She sighed. "No Sir. I won't."

"You'll get through it. But just tell me if you ever get close to orgasm. We're going to my favorite restaurant in St. Andrews, Little Italy. I've made reservations for 7:15, so we'll be right on time."

"Sounds good. We've not had Italian in a while. I've been hungry for lasagna."

"At this place, it's not known as lasagna. It's good grub." She chuckled. "I'm quite serious. It's as if you're eating their cuisine in Milan."

"You've been to Milan?!"

"Hell, no. That's just what others have told me." 

Soon, they found a parking spot and had to walk a block, which practically killed her as she carefully made every step, as the rope had been agonizingly crawling up her ass since she'd stepped out of the car. But after she took a few steps, she was confident her breasts weren't going to knock someone over if they happened to walk by her. 

Somewhat relieved, Gayle's attention was drawn to a church with tan-colored bricks on three-fourths of the building while the remaining quarter were gray bricks. There was intricately cut glass, very ornate, over the main entrance and a nicely decorated clock tower behind the building, though she didn't know if it was part of the church because the bricks were darker than the others and looked as if it was built in a different century.

They came across a sign to the church, and it turned out to be the Holy Trinity Church, which was appropriate because the church itself had three sections to it. The additional information on the church read: 

'Established in the 12th century, Holy Trinity Church has a chequered and fascinating history. Of note, John Knox (who is widely regarded as the founder of the Presbyterian denomination in Scotland) preached at Holy Trinity Church in 1559, and kick started the Protestant Reformation.'

"This is extraordinary. Darn, I would have loved to go through it," she said as they started walking again. "I'd have to stay here for years if I want to see every castle, church and abbey I come across."

Muttering, she heard Hamish say quietly, "Would there be anything wrong with that?" 

She didn't dare ask him to repeat what he'd said; she was too afraid to know if that's what she really heard.

Putting his hand in the small of her back, he directed her down Logie Lane; the street sign was a simple wooden block on the corner of the building. As they walked down the small, narrow market square, she could see the clock tower was indeed part of Holy Trinity, and there was even another smaller building attached to the clock tower.

"It's just at the other end of the lane. We got lucky finding a car park so close. Usually I have to walk three or four blocks."

"Well, it is a gorgeous night. I don't mind walking."

Only then did Gayle notice several couples that passed them, especially older couples in their 60s or 70s, would smile as they walked by. She had ignored the first few stares and smiles, but then she could no longer. She didn't know if it was because she looked like an alien to them, but the fact that they smiled told her a different story - a story she didn't want to admit to.

"Ah, so you're enjoying my company?" 

"No, I wasn't saying that," she teased him. "Yes, Hamish, I'm glad you've taken me out."

"Brilliant, because there's another reason why I wanted have you alone for a bit."

Blushing, she looked up at him and said flirtatiously, "But Sir, you can always get me alone at home."

"Oh, lass, that was a very good answer, but that's not what I meant, although..." He wagged his eyebrows a few times, which made Gayle look away shyly.

That was when she noticed the restaurant. It wasn't a restaurant, per se, but more of a café. There were two simple plate-glass windows on either side of the door, and over the door was a green sign with 'Little Italy' in red. It wasn't exactly what she was expecting, not that it mattered. If Hamish liked the place, she was sure the food would be delectable.

"I'll tell you all about it once we're seated," he replied as they walked in. 

Before he could tell the hostess his name, she said, "Welcome back, Mr. McDougal." Grabbing two menus, she said, "Follaw me. Yer table is reit thes way."

If Gayle was skeptical about the place from the outside, she was more skeptical of the inside. The ceiling had tacky green and red big tile panels, the walls were painted a deep red on which hung portraits. One that caught her eye was of Marlon Brando from The Godfather, and a full wall with all sorts of liquors and shelves for the multitude of wines.

The hostess stopped at a table with red and white-checkered table cloths, again not quite the impression she had imagined, but the candle in the center of the table added a nice touch. Hamish pulled out a chair for Gayle, so she slowly and carefully sat down so as not to chaff her ass any more than it was. Her crotch, however, was already on fire from every move she made.

Smiling, she thanked him as he sat down, and the hostess handed them each a menu. "Wally will be haur shortly tae tak' yer scran orders."

"Thank you," Hamish told her.

After the hostess walked away, Gayle leaned forward and whispered, "What's a scran?"

"It's just the meal."

Shaking her head, she said, "Oh."

He smiled soothingly at her. Reaching across the table for her hand, he squeezed it gently. "Love, don't be embarrassed. Simply ask if you don't know what something is. Okay? Promise me?"

"Yes. Thanks. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing. I understand more than you think I do. I didn't always order what I thought I was ordering in America."

She finally smiled then looked over the menu as a waiter poured water in their glasses. All of the entrees were in Italian with no pictures, so she didn't know what the hell any of them were. There were a few dishes she recognized by the names but lasagna wasn't one of them, and she felt too stupid to ask Hamish about it, even though she'd promised him. Then she caught the prices, which were double the price at home taking into consideration the exchange rate. She knew it would be rude as hell to say everything was too expensive, and that she'd order the least pricey one, but it seemed all of the entrees were just as costly. 

Then she saw the chicken Carbonara, and she really wanted that. But she remembered how dominant he was the second she met him at the restaurant in Tysons Corner in Virginia - hell, he even ordered her to wear a certain attire, although he covered it up with the excuse that he'd need to know who to look for.

Now, however, things were different. He should know by the meals she prepared - actually, the dinners Jessie prepared - what foods she would or would not eat. He'd allowed her to speak her mind in a few matters, and she figured it wouldn't hurt to try now.

She looked at him expectantly and chose her words carefully. "Sir," she whispered, because she knew she had to take a very passive and diplomatic approach. "May I have the chicken Carbonara? I've only had it in a frozen dinner, and I'd like to try something new." 

He looked at her, his eyebrows raised then looked at the menu. "No lasagna?"

"I can have that anywhere. But it'd be nice to have something... different that I wouldn't have at home. I thought I'd be adventurous while I'm here. Just no -"

"Shellfish. I remembered," he said a little terse but then gave a small smile. "You do realize there are peas in it?"

"Well, no. I don't know Italian for peas."

He paused a moment. "I'll consider it."

You'll consider it. Consider it? Why did I even bother asking?!

"And you've certainly gone up and beyond adventurous, Gayle."

That she couldn't deny, and her blushing cheeks embarrassed her as the waiter, Wally, his name tag read, came to the table. "Guid avening. Whit can Ah gie ye tois fur drinks or starters?"

"For the lady, she'd like Mirassou, and I'll have the Ceresuolo di Vittoria."

"Stoat choices. Starter?"

"Yes. Penne alla Caprese."

"Brill. Ah'll be reit back."

"Sir? What did you order me?"

"Wine, though you may have only one."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

They both sat quietly for several minutes, and so she took the opportunity to look around at the various dishes on other diner's plates, and Hamish looked intently at Gayle, which she hated and grew self-conscious. She wished she knew what he was thinking... then again, maybe not.

Several minutes later, he asked, "So, Gayle, you'll be going to St. Athernase in the morning?"

"Yes, if you don't need me to do anything."

"No, no. I'm glad you found something that piques your interest. I have another date, so I'll be gone most of the day."

She tried to hide her disappointment by squirming ever so slightly in her chair, which caused the rope to rub against her clit. 

Wally returned with the drinks then waited for them to sip it, Gayle assumed, so she did. "Hmm, this is very good. It's fruity. I think I can taste cherry, but there's something else..."

"Plum an' red currant. Ye ready tae order?" Wally asked.

"Yes. Gayle will have the chicken Carbonara, no peas." He looked at Gayle briefly before he said, "And I'll have the veal Parmigiana."

Gayle was shocked yet tickled pink that he'd remembered to mention scraping the peas. When he looked at her again, she gave him a warm, appreciative smile.

"A'right. Th' starters will be out shortly."

"Hamish, I would have eaten the peas... well, I would have just picked them out."

"Don't be so surprised, lass. A gentleman always remembers his date's preferences."

She had just taken a sip of the wine and almost choked. Thankfully, the rope-harness gave her such a sense of security she overcame her shock quickly.

"I'm very observant, Gayle."

"Yes, well, you've do have good tastes."

"Except for women."

She shook her head. "Give yourself some time, Hamish. You'll find one that's right for you."

He smiled, though there was no conviction behind it. I think I already have he thought but quickly dismissed it, hoping Gayle hadn't picked up on his admiration.

"Now, there are a few things coming up that I need to talk to you about. There's a charity event in two weeks for Wounded Warriors, which supports soldiers that have come back wounded to assist them in acclimating back into society. Financial assistance, re-employment, as well as any prosthetics they may need." 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 17



Her first words were, "Yeah, I've heard of them. Isn't that what Prince Harry is training for now?"

He smiled, seemingly pleased she knew of their work. "Exactly."

Her second words were, "Wait, charity event, as in ball? Formal gowns, tuxedos?"

He chuckled. "No, not a ball. Just a bunch of men and women in formal attire to help raise donations. I think they're having a silent auction, as well."

"Hamish," she said in a panic. "I have nothing appropriate to wear."

Just then, Wally came with the appetizer, which made her mouth water as soon as she looked at the food on the dish. There were small chunks of mozzarella, fresh basil leaves, olives and cherry tomatoes over pasta, and she could smell the garlic.

Wally set two small, empty plates in front of Hamish and Gayle, said, "Enjoy," then left.

"This looks delicious... except the olives. You can have those." Hamish rolled his eyes. "Oh, my gosh! Did you just roll your eyes at me?" she asked playfully.

"Yes, Gayle, I did. It wasn't the first, and it won't be the last." He took the serving fork and asked for her plate, which he filled up half full, picking off the olives. "You shouldn't fill up on this, although you should like this."

"Thank you," she replied as she took her plate back. "I can just eat half now and save the rest for lunch tomorrow, since I won't know when you'll be back."

"Good idea. I should be back after lunchtime, so at least I know you'll be fed."

He watched her take a couple of bites before he began to eat. He didn't have to ask if she liked it. He could tell she did. 

"Alright, so, Jessie and her daughter, Kelsey, will take you shopping this Sunday for a dress and matching pumps. And Kelsey can do your hair and make-up, all the girlie things you do. You can still work at the church that day, if you'd like."

"Okay, but Hamish, I haven't saved enough money for an evening dress," she said fretfully.

He shook his head. "I will cover your dress and pumps. It's for an excellent cause, and there is always excellent, tasty food."

Well, how could she say no to that? She took a couple more bites of the penne and thought about whether she wanted to go. Hell, of course she wanted to go! She'd never miss out of such a lavish affair. Besides, she didn't really have a choice.

"Okay. That does sound fun. But do you think... I know I haven't saved hundreds of Pounds, but I'd like to donate a little."

He smiled so warmly that even his eyes brightened. "Of course. That is very generous of you."

Wally arrived with the entrees as they had just finished up the starter. The bowl he placed in front of her had enough Carbonara to feed three people. And Hamish's parmigiana looked and smelled mouthwatering.

After Wally left, she took a few bites on her entre. "Hmm, this is soo much better than frozen."

"I knew you'd like it."

-

After she'd had her fill, she sat back and patted her stomach. Looking at Hamish, who still had a few bites to go, she noticed the candlelight gave his face such a glow that she literally saw him in a whole new light. He was handsome, so very handsome. Her pussy tingled, and she knew she was blushing again. And the now-empty wine glass didn't help matters.

"And there's something else," Hamish said as he, too, had eaten all he could.

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me I have to dress Bessie in a doggie-gown?"

He laughed. "Definitely not! She'd be the joke of Fife. Actually, I'm throwing a Guy Fawkes Day celebration on my property on November 2nd, although the actual date is the 5th. There'll be some... play... things, games and the sort, lots of food and fireworks after we burn Fawkes' effigy."

"Oh! The Englishman that attempted to blow up Parliament in the early 1600s. That sounds fun. Do you need help organizing it?"

"Help? Oh, no. I despise the whole affair! I'm afraid I put my foot in my mouth and ended up hosting this year's celebration for the community. I'll ask Jessie if she can help you with arranging the activities, preparing the food and all the details, and I'll give you a budget, which you must abide by."

"Actually, that's right up my alley! I organized my cousin's wedding, and I really surprised myself how smoothly everything went."

Wally then returned and asked about coffee and dessert. 

"I have no more room for dessert, Hamish. May I just have some coffee?"

Wally looked from Gayle to Hamish. The waiter clearly knew who was in charge.

"Decaf, cream and sugar," Hamish told him. 

Gayle smiled knowing he knew she'd be up all night long if she had leaded coffee. Yeah, he knows me alright.

"And an apple Crostata, an Italian crème cake, and we'd like the leftovers to take home, please."

After Wally left with the plates, Gayle leaned forward and whispered, "Sir, I really, really don't have room for dessert."

"They're both for me," he said. "But you're going to help me eat them."

"One bite of each is all I can handle. What are they, by the way?"

"The Crostata is apples baked in a crust with almond topping, served with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. The cake is layers of lemon cake and mascarpone cheese filling served with raspberry-hazelnut sauce."

"Okay, fine, but you're carrying me to the car."

"Over my shoulder, even if you scream at me."

"But there is some place I'd like to take you before we head back home."

"Walking, I hope. I think I've gained ten pounds, plus five for the dessert."

"Oh, yes. It's too far from here, so we'll find another spot to park... if you can handle the walking," he added teasingly. 

"As long as I can readjust before we -"

Wally then returned with the coffee and desserts, and Gayle practically drooled at the crème cake. "Yum! I get the lemon cake!"

Hamish chuckled as Wally placed the plates in front of Hamish. Gayle fixed her coffee and took a sip while she watched Hamish split each piece, forked a bite full of apple and brought it toward her. She didn't move. She had never blushed so much in her life. Such an intimate act... in public, no less! 

"I thought you said you were adventurous, Gayle."

She couldn't think of anything snarky to say. Sometimes it was just best to give in to her boss. So, she leaned forward and parted her lips just a tad, looking away shyly. 

But he pulled the fork back. "No, Gayle. Look at me," he said firmly.

If she thought her cheeks were red and burning as never before, surely her ears had matched the same crimson shade. Gathering her nerve, she looked into his eyes. Once again he brought the fork toward her, and she took the treat as unsexy as she could. 

"Hmm, 'dis ith gude," she muttered.

"Very unladylike of you. And thank you. You've totally ruined the moment."

"I know. What can I say?"

After she did manage to eat both halves of the desserts, and she gained ten more pounds, Hamish left the money for the bill, yet the waiter returned before they had a chance to get up and leave. 

"Ah hiner ye enjoyed yer scran," Wally said as he picked up the money.

"Aye, it was delicious. Thank you," Hamish replied.

"Hae a guid necht. Ye tois arh a brammer coople."

After Wally walked away, Gayle pushed her chair back, but Hamish's harsh glare made her stop so he could once again pull out her chair. She had never been treated like a lady before, and she admired him for it. 

Her face contorted as she slowly stood up and moaned. "May I run to the bathroom before we do any walking?"

"Certainly. I'll meet you out front."

A few minutes later, she found him standing on the curb, and if she didn't know who he was, she would have thought he was good looking. The sun had already set, but it was still somewhat light out. One last waning stream of light shown upon him.

Forcing herself to breathe, she approached him. "Sir," she whispered, "Just to let you know, punishment received very well."

He gave her a crooked smile and reached out to her. Looking at his hand like it was a snake, she finally took it; his grip was firm, his hands soft, and the look in his eyes were tender. She smiled back and stepped closer to him.

"Thank you for dinner, Hamish. It was the best meal I think I've ever had."

"You're welcome. I knew you would enjoy it."

"No, you didn't," she objected.

As they started to walk through the market place toward the street, he replied, rather tersely, "Yes, I did."

Playing along, she told him, "No, you di - ow, ow, ow!" she screeched. He'd tightened his grip on her hand, and it was painful. "Okay, okay! You win."

"Oh, lass," he chuckled. "You never learn."

"I do, I'm just slow." He smiled down on her, and she smiled back. "Sir? What did Wally say as we left?"

"Nothing," he replied curtly.

"I understood the couple part. He was talking about us."

"No, he wasn't."

"Yes, he -"

"Are you going to let it go?" he asked.

"Nope."

He sighed and shook his head. "He said we were an attractive couple."

Gayle remained silent and kept on walking. Sometimes it was best to keep her mouth shut. Maybe she would never learn.

A few minutes later...

After Hamish let Gayle out of the car, he again took her hand and they walked down the street. She could hear the soft caress of small waves lapping gently at the shore and grew excited knowing they would be walking on the beach. To her left were very posh and, more than likely high-priced row houses. 

Looking toward the right at the shoreline, she was a little surprised at the strips of rocks jetting out the shallows; it almost looked like claws' prints. On a cliff overlooking that was the ruin of a fortress above the beach, a tower built of ancient-looking rocks, as was the rest of the fortress. Spotlights shown on four corners of the property, giving the ruin a haunted look.

"Oh, my god. That is unbelievable," Gayle gushed as they walked closer to the end wall. "Do you think it's closed?" 

Then she saw the sign and read it out loud. 

'St Andrews Castle consists of the ruins of the castle of the Archbishops of St. Andrews, dating in part from the 13th century.' 

"What a bastard King Henry the 8th destroyed everything. What a waste." 

Suddenly, she shuddered and wrapped her arms around her. "Here," he said, taking off his jacket. "I don't need you getting ill."

Smiling, she accepted it as he put it on her. 

"No, I'm afraid they're closed," he said as they approached the gate, where he pulled out his cellphone and made a call. "Scott, we're here." Ending the call, he looked at Gayle. "But I do have a wee bit surprise for you."

She looked at him suspiciously until she saw a tall, lean man walk toward them from inside the ruins. "Old man! Young lady! Right on time, I see!" 

Scott unlocked the gate and stepped aside so they could enter. After Scott closed and locked the gate, Hamish said, "Scottie, this is Gayle. She's working for me for a few more months. She's from Washington, D.C."

"Is that right? Welcome. Let me show you around."

Twenty minutes later as the three stood at the remnants of the tower right beside the cliff, an eerie glow coming from inside the still-standing structure, Gayle thanked Scott for showing them around on their private tour. 

Scott replied, "It was my pleasure. With it being Friday the 13th, there's an all-night watch to keep any hooligans away. So I must leave you two on your own, now."

Hamish shook Scott's hand. "Thanks, mate. We won't be long." 

Putting his hand in the small of Gayle's back, Hamish escorted her inside the tower, which was lit by two torches on the walls. She saw an uneven four-by-four foot opening, presumably a window, and over that hung a single sword.

"Okay," she said, "This is kinda creepy."

"I shall protect thee, fair maiden," he said as he bowed.

She smiled at his playfulness and curtsied. "Why, thank you, kind sir. My brave knight in shining armor." 

He then walked to the opening, turned and leaned against it. "Come here."

"Hamish, I didn't mean to make you angry!" she cried out, purposefully changing her accent as a southern belle in distress. "Please don't throw me out the window! I'm profoundly sorry!"

"For God's sake, woman!" he snapped then burst out laughing. 

Laughing along with him, she stepped beside him and looked out. "Oh, my god. Look at this view."

"Sorry, but it appears to be high tide now, so we can't walk on the beach."

"That's a relief. The last time we were you tricked me to walk naked." 

"You liked it, lass, and you know it."

"Yeah," she said with a grin. "I did."

A strong, cold breeze blew into the small space, making her shiver. Hamish took notice and wrapped his arm around her waist, and she accepted him by doing the same. 

Resting her head on his shoulder, she whispered, "Hamish, this was very thoughtful of you. And I've had a really good ti -"

She was cut off when he pushed her against the wall gently, took a hold of her hands, held them above her head and gave her the hottest kiss he had ever given her. It was so intense, so yearning and so warm she melted into him with a soft moan. Slipping of a pump, she slid her foot up his leg just as his tongue traced along her bottom lip.

"Hmm," he mumbled as he pulled away and brought her arms down, holding her hands. "You know... no one's around. Care to have a shag?"

"What?! No! Well... sure, why not?" she replied.

"Damn, you called my bluff." He chuckled and shook his head.

"I don't think Scott would appreciate his generosity in the private tour by catching us. But you do look gorgeous in candlelight, Ham... Sir."

His eyes flew open. Stepping back, he looked over her face like she'd just slapped him. He didn't know what to say. Never in his almost thirty years had any woman made him speechless. 

"Don't you think it's time to go?" she asked, hoping it would break the spell he was under.

"Thank you, Gayle," he finally stammered. I just wanted to take you out to let you know how much I appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Hey, all I do is fold your underwear and keep crumbs off your floor. No biggie."

"Okay, no more wine. You're getting blootered." Taking her hand, he led her out of the tower. 

"Nah, fine I'm, Sir. Drunk not, am I."

He laughed again then kissed her forehead. "I love how you make me laugh."

"Well, you do give me a lot of ammo." 

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you want to amend that comment?"

"Oh, right. I forgot to say Sir?"

Letting go of her hand, he slipped his hand under the jacket on her back and pulled at the rope, which made it grind harshly against her clit. She groaned loudly.

"I'm sorry! Enough said," she squeaked, standing on her toes. "I'll watch what I say."

"You'd better," he replied and they continued walking.

However, Gayle didn't see the smirk on Hamish's lips.

Later that night...

Gayle lay in her bed with her head on her hands and had been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, a sleeping Bessie at her feet. She'd been trying to piece together all that happened. 

After they got home, Gayle went to her bedroom and Hamish went into his, while Bessie stood in the hallway looking between her master and Gayle. 

"Don't you do it," he'd warned Bessie.

Her ears had perked up, she gave a very wet and snotty sneeze then trotted into Gayle's room.

"Turncoat," he mumbled then went into his room.

"Us girls have to stick together, Sir," Gayle teased as the canine jumped on her bed. "Good girl," she whispered as she scratched Bessie behind her ears.

"Good night, Ms. Boyce. Good night, you hairy mutt." Bessie barked her farewells.

Soon enough, Gayle's thoughts wandered to the previous Sunday morning when she'd caught him playing the piano in the dining hall. If she'd really thought about it, she should have walked into the room, stood between the bench and the piano and they would have had a very hot, sexy Pretty Woman moment. She started giggling, which turned into a loud laughter. 

"Would you kindly tell me what is so funny, Ms. Boyce?" Hamish hollered out from his bedroom; his light was still on, which was why she'd probably thought about being Julia Roberts.

"Nothing, Sir," she answered loudly and seriously.

"Don't lie to me, lass."

When she'd told him, he was quiet for several moments. "Good night, Ms. Boyce," he finally replied, and she could hear the smile on his lips as he spoke.

"Sleep well, Edward."

"Who?"

"Richard Gere's role in Pretty Woman."

A very loud and heavy sigh came from her boss.

They both fell to sleep with smiles on their faces.

Saturday, September 14th, 2013

It turned out to be a beautiful day. It was in the mid-60s, the sun was warm and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. She had been working at St. Athernase all morning recording the findings with the sizes, shapes and other details of pieces that were found on the grounds. 

Hamish crossed her mind a few times when she had a quiet moment, and more than once she found herself smiling like a teenager with a high school crush. She hadn't forgotten the fact that he was out on another date. 

Michael, one of the excavators, had asked her to a pub for a drink since they'd finished up a little earlier than expected, but - and this shocked the living shit out of her - she was really looking forward to spending the afternoon with Hamish. 

As Gayle pulled into the driveway, there was a car parked that she didn't recognize, but Hamish's car wasn't there. Putting the car in park and stepping out, David approached her from the side door carrying a basket of fruits and vegetables.

"David!" Gayle gushed as she met up with him. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in weeks."

"I've been fine, Ms. Boyce. How about yourself?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Please call me Gayle. Hamish is... out right now. Would you like to come in for coffee or tea?"

"No, thank you, Miss. I've just come to give you these."

Looking inside, she smiled at the apples, pears and plums, even some fruit she didn't recognize, potatoes, squash and mushrooms. "These look great! The apples are perfect for a pie. I've not made one for Hamish yet. Come in, please, just for a few minutes," she pleaded.

He smiled warmly. "Alright. That would be lovely."

As they walked to the side door leading to the kitchen, David asked, "So, Gayle, tell me. How are you liking working here thus far?"

"It's been great, really, more than I ever expected it to be."

David looked at her, one eyebrow raised from curiosity, but he didn't say anything.

A few minutes later, she set a steaming cup of tea in front of David and sat down across from him. Telling Bessie she'd let her out soon, she looked into the basket at the fruit she didn't know. "What are these?"

"Elderberry. Phil's fiancé makes wonderful medicinal creams from it. She sells them at the market. Makes quite a bit of money off them from jams and her delicious muffins, but she makes more from the tea."

"Really? Hamish said he'd take me to the market one weekend. I wanted to get some jam for my family."

"If you don't make it, Emma makes great gift baskets. I'll see if she can prepare one for you."

"That's not nec..." Something suddenly crossed her mind. "You said Phil's fiancé? Phil isn't your fiancé?"

He frowned, his eyebrows deeply wrinkled, then a smile slowly grew on his lips. "No, lass. Phil's my brother."

"Your... brother..." Then it dawned on her all the things she'd said to him, referring to their wedding plans - David's plans with his brother. "Oh, David! I'm am so sorry about all the things I said! Hamish told me -" 

His chuckle surprised her. "We thought so, and I should have said something earlier."

"No, he should have told me the truth," she said angrily, rising. 




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 17



Reaching across the table, David put his hand over hers in a friendly manner, not sexual at all. "Please, don't be embarrassed. I'm a little surprised he... misled you, but it wasn't your fault."

"There's no justification for lying. He made me think you were gay! I was... I was naked in front of you! I've never been so..." She sighed heavily and ran her free hand through her hair out of frustration.

David suddenly looked over her shoulder and pulled his hand back quickly; his face was taut with tension, as were his shoulders. But he knew their hands couldn't have been seen.

Standing up, David said, "Hello, Mr. McDougal. I was just leaving."

Oh, my God! How much did he hear? Gayle wondered, though she didn't look over her shoulder.

"Nonsense, Hodges," Hamish said as he walked in, threw his keys on the counter and approached the table. "Hello Gayle. What's this?"

David cleared his throat. "I brought you two some fruits and vegetables I picked these morning."

"That was kind of you. Thank you, Hodges."

"You're welcome. Gayle, thank you for the tea. Have a good afternoon."

As Hamish walked David to the door, Gayle called out for Bessie to take her outside, and she entered the hallway on the way to the back door.

"Gayle, wait. We need to talk."

She paid him no mind. She was so irate, beyond pissed, she was afraid to say anything for fear of what she would say, though she didn't care less if he sent her back home for her disrespecting him.

When he caught up to her, she said, "No! Nothing you say can -"

He grabbed her arm rather roughly and forced her to stop just as she opened the French door; neither paid attention to Bessie when she bolted outside right away. 

"Did you forget who you're talking to?" he asked tersely.

"No, I didn't," she replied, her voice full of venom. 

He was at a momentary loss for words at her disrespect, and he knew she was angry with him. But he certainly wasn't used to being spoken to like this. He wanted to defend himself, to be honest and open with her, but that wasn't very easy for him at all. He never had to explain his actions to anyone, except his father, but now...

Pulling her arm away, she walked through the door and past the fountain on the way to the Tithe barn, where Hamish practically had to run to stand in front of her to block her.

"Gayle! You will listen to me!"

"No! I am really pissed at you right now!" 

"I understand that. Just let me explain."

"I don't give a flying monkey's ass! Leave me alone." 

She tried to walk past him, but he held onto her shoulders tightly. Giving him a look of disgust and rage, he finally relented and let go of her. She promptly headed to the far end of the property. 

"Ms. Boyce!" he shouted, not willing to allow her to just walk away from him.

Abruptly, she stopped, turned around and took a few steps back to him. Bessie had been running after her but stopped, sat on her hind legs and looked between Gayle and Hamish, wondering what the hell was going on between the two.

"You know what?! I am getting so tired of you barking orders at me! You want me to be open with you, yet here you are lying to me, humiliating me and made me look like a fucking idiot with David and his brother! Why would you do that?"

Hamish opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't get the chance.

Lowering her voice, though it was still harsh, she spat, "I am not your property, Mr. McDougal. I am your employee. You pay me, I work, among other things when you're in the mood. When you do something nice, I get whiplash the next day when you act a dick! I... You can't keep... I don't want..." 

She ran her hand through her hair and looked away to gather her thoughts, but she had run out of steam at that point. She sighed exasperatingly and walked away, Bessie in tow to comfort her human sister.

Watching her, he cursed under his breath. He fucked up, he knew that. He fucked up big time. He turned around and headed to his office, where at least he could see her when she came back in... whenever that would be. What he was going to say was another story.

In the Tithe barn and garden...

Gayle paced back and forth in the grass of the ruins of the Tithe barn, cursing angrily. Occasionally she'd kick a flower or a stray rock in the ground, not even feeling the pain in her toes from the hard surface of the rock, even though she still wore her sneakers. Her breathing was rapid, and she felt a sickening headache coming on. Her thoughts went manic, almost irrational, and she couldn't stop them. Her PMS didn't help, but she had every damn right to be upset. 

"Okay, okay. Breathe. Relax."

That did nothing to calm her, and she threw herself down in the grass and cried, rocking back and forth with her head in her hands. She wasn't even aware of Bessie licking the back of her hands from the salty treat as she tried to soothe the distress away. Finally giving up, the dog sat down as close to Gayle as she could and placed her chin on her thigh.

Not knowing how much time went by, she felt something warm yet heavy over her shoulders and looked down on the blanket. She hadn't realized she was then sitting in the shade from the trees. The sun hadn't set yet, and it had grown chilly from a light breeze. 

Looking up to just about knee level, she saw Hamish standing a foot away holding a bottle of water. She had long since stopped crying, and she wasn't as angry as she was at first, but she was still holding onto some of it. Finally taking the bottle, she took a sip, as if that would magically help her find the right words. She found none.

Hamish stepped back and sat on a three foot high brick wall of the ruin. "Gayle, I am truly sorry for lying to you. It was stupid. I'm a glaikit."

I'm not going to argue with you there, whatever glaikit is.

"I can't explain to you why, but yes, when you first asked about Hodges I was jealous. I've never been a jealous man. But I'm finding I enjoy your company... and I'm feeling... The first time I saw you, I was... You were... Fuck." He threw his head back and looked up at the sky. 

"Hamish, it's not just that you lied. You had me parading around him like I was a... My god, do you realize how mortified I was? You agreed there would be no humiliation."

He could no longer look Gayle in her eyes, but she had her eyes locked on his face, which was laden with shame. Her eyes were red and swollen, and it killed him knowing he'd caused her to be so upset. You are shutting off the cameras tonight.

Getting back with the topic at hand, he told her, "I have already spoken with Hodges and apologized. It will never happen again."

"How can I know that? You know how hard trust is for me."

"I more than fucked up, Gayle. I realize that now. I should have told you the truth earlier, but I... I couldn't. For now, all I can do is ask for your forgiveness."

"Oh, and I'm just supposed to accept your apology like it never happened?"

He sighed. "I never said that. I can't take back what I did to you. I wish I could, but I can't."

"Why, Hamish?"

His eyebrows furled deeply, causing creases on his forehead that she had never seen before from her boss. "Why what?"

"Why are you jealous?"

"I have no fucking idea. When I thought of taking in a maid, I had no idea I would feel..." He turned around so she couldn't read his facial expression.

Now it was Gayle's turn to be confused. But then it hit her. She was becoming jealous of him going on dates, just as he was of her looking at the men at the pubs and being asked out by a man at the church. 

"Hamish, what's happening between us?" She didn't want to ask, but she had to.

He shook his head, paused then knelt in front of her. "Gayle, I'm not used to this, to... Scots don't carry their hearts on their sleeves. They protect it to the death. But once they're in... With you, I've found..." He sat down hard, looking like a lost puppy. "I've never been this happy before."

The pain in his eyes was unbearable to see, and she knew, felt that he was truly remorseful. She could have cried with his admission, but she would never allow him to see her.

"I need some time, Hamish." He nodded, stood then put out his hand to help her up. "I'm not forgiving you yet," she sneered up at him.

"I hope you will, eventually."

Sunday, September 15th, 2013

Gayle finally arrived home around three o'clock after spending most of the morning looking for an evening gown with Jessie and her daughter Kelsey in St. Andrews. Kelsey's friend, Olivia Thompson, had her own shop and was an up-and-coming fashion designer. Gayle wanted to buy a genuine pearl necklace, earrings and bracelet set just to piss Hamish off, but she decided against it, though she was really, really tempted.

Hamish. Her boss hadn't been out of her head since the night before. She'd barely slept the night before and felt like death. She hadn't forgiven him, but she had to be honest with herself. There was something changing between them, but she didn't want to admit it. She just couldn't. 

Practically dragging herself up the stairs to her bedroom, she smelled a fire burning and saw Hamish's bedroom door was open. As she reached the end of the hall, Bessie tore out of Hamish's bedroom and greeted her, her tail wagging crazily. He called out after the dog but as usual was ignored. She grinned as she walked into her bedroom and closed the door. 

Maid: One. Boss: Zero.

She was so focused on putting the bags on her bed that she hadn't noticed her personal items on the nightstand were missing until she opened the wardrobe and found... nothing. Not one apron was hung up. Confused, she went to the dresser and pulled open the drawers - her jeans and sweaters were also missing.

He's sending me home! He's probably got a suitcase packed in the kitchen and David's waiting to drive me to the airport. For fuck's sake!

Suddenly fuming, she put the garment bag on her bed and stormed out into the hallway to Hamish's bedroom. Not controlling her voice, she asked, rather snottily, "Sir? Where are my clothes and my things?!"

"Welcome home," he said cockily from the sofa. Putting the book he'd been reading down, he approached her with a smile on his face. "Were you successful in -"

"Are you sending me home?!" she asked angrily.

"What?" he asked. "Of course not, Gayle." He went to the doorway. "Follow me."

"No! I will not follow you. What the hell is going on?!"

Without a reply, he walked into her bedroom then walked out carrying her dress. She stood in his doorway with her arms crossed over her chest as he passed the hallway bathroom into the spare bedroom at the top of the stairs.

"Come hither, woman!" he called out, his voice much softer.

Giving him a dirty look, not in the playing mood, she stepped through the doorway but then stopped when she saw him by the armoire with the doors open, and hanging there were her aprons and the garment bag with her dress. She looked around the room and saw a huge bouquet of freshly-picked flowers on the dresser, her books and alarm clock on the nightstand. A blazing fire was burning in the fireplace, and her cheeks blushed, from embarrassment or the heat from the fire, she didn't know. 

Frowning, she looked at him dumfounded. "What is this? What's going on?"

"I told you that you'd be in here by the end of September, so I lost that bet as well."

She didn't smile. She didn't thank him. She just stood there staring at him.

Closing the armoire door, he stepped to her. "I was planning on giving this room to you before... everything went to shit. But you deserve it."

She sighed heavily. "Well, I do appreciate the thought, but this won't make everything right between us."

"What will?" he asked.

Shaking her head, she answered, "I have no idea."



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 18



AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Thanks to Mr. for the Scottishness, and DeathandTaxes for checking the juicy bits; that was a HUGE help.

This chapter covers some suggestions given to me from a request a few chapters back.

We last left off on Sunday after Hamish and Gayle had a huge fight over him lying to her about Hodges not being gay. He gave her the spare bedroom. 

*****

Wednesday, September 18th, 2013

Hamish and Gayle sat down for breakfast that morning at the kitchen dining room table. Whatever had happened between them on Saturday afternoon still hung thick in the air. They were cordial to each other, but the tension was palpable. 

She desperately wanted to talk to her aunt for help about what happened to come to some explanation as to what she was feeling. But considering their sexual relationship, it wouldn't be wise. Her father was out of the question, and Catelyn was too young to understand. She needed her mother. Gayle felt lost and confused, and she didn't know how to get out of this funk.

She'd been in her 'new' en-suite bedroom for three nights, and normally she should have been thrilled. But she wasn't. She was miserable. She was lonely. She wanted things back the way they were.

The 'clink' of silverware on a plate made her jump a little, and she looked at Hamish. "So do I. Gayle, they can change."

Sighing, she replied, "I need to stop having internal conversations with myself. I never know when I've actually blurted them out. Sir, I was PMSing, and I might have exaggerated the situation, but -"

He shook his head adamantly. "No, Gayle. Your feelings are justified. I've wanted to talk with you since Sunday, but I didn't know what the fuck to say."

"Me either."

"We'll have a chat when I get home tonight." 

She gave him a small smile. "Please. Thanks. I'm going to town this afternoon for some make-up and a handbag for Saturday. Do you need anything?"

"Yes, actually. Pick up my dry cleaning CleanGear, please. It's next to the Bank of Scotland on Riggs Place."

"Sure. I remember where that is."

"Great." Finishing his coffee, he said, "Just for tonight, you don't have to wait for me by the chair. You may be dressed, but I'd still like my drink."

Nodding, she asked, "And your slippers?"

"Always my slippers," he replied with a grin.

Hamish's office in Cupar ...

As soon as he walked into his office, he hung up his jacket and hollered to his assistant, Neill, to clear his calendar the 24th. 

Stepping into the room, Neill reminded Hamish, "You've got that conference call with Claire Robertson at ten that day regarding her father's estate issue."

"Shit. Right. Reschedule it for Monday, please. Get Richard Patterson from the bank on the phone for me."

"Will do. And Hamish, your brother called this morning. He sounded bladdered again." 

"Fuck. I thought he'd given up in June. What did he want?"

"He said he wanted some furniture and other personal items that belongs to him."

"Well, he's not going to get them, especially the furniture. He'd just sell them and waste it on that cheap mead. Anything else?"

Neill handed him a gift bag with the words, 'Hunter Goldsmith' on it. "I had to sign for this. Rachel's been busting my balls about a diamond tennis bracelet for her birthday. I was tempted to keep it."

"Don't I pay you enough?" he joked. "Thanks, Neill."

After Neill closed the door behind him, Hamish pulled out the two black felt jewelry boxes and put them on his desk. He was so proud of himself for being sneaky by asking Jessie what color necklace and earrings would go with her dress for the charity event in a few days. He wasn't so happy with himself when he had a dickens of a time deciding what he really liked, as well as what he thought Gayle would like. 

Sucking up his ego, he eventually called Jessie for help, and on Monday he hid the credit card in the kitchen so Jessie could take it, pick something out that would be appropriate, pay for them and have them delivered to his office. She hadn't told him what she bought, nor the cost. It didn't matter to him at all. All he wanted was to make sure Gayle would be happy with it.

Admittedly excited, he chose the smaller box and opened it. He smiled at the small two-carat diamond earrings. "Nice and simple. Well done, Jessie."

Setting that aside, he opened the long, narrow box, and his chin dropped when he saw the bracelet. "Bloddy hell! You know I'm a cheap bastard! I'm going to have to sell my Rover to pay for this!"

Reluctantly, he took out the receipt to see if he'd lose one or two balls while zombified butterflies swarmed angrily in the pit of his stomach. Looking at the itemization, he almost had a coronary at seeing the total cost: 1,216 G.B.P. for the earrings and 16,700 G.B.P. for the bracelet. 

"Now I'll have to sell the Mercedes, all the property's acreage and possibly even Bessie if anyone would take her ... no, not my wee hound." 

But then he saw the hundred pounds charge. In a state of utter confusion, he read the handwritten note at the bottom:

'Mr. McDougal: It is my pleasure to provide this jewelry on loan for your generosity your family has given my shop in years past. You will notice the charge of 100 G.B.P., which is the loan fee. However, it would be greatly appreciated if you would return both pieces before noon on Monday. Enjoy your evening with your special lady.'

"I'll be damned," Hamish said aloud. 

He gave George, the owner, a quick call to thank him for his kindness and promised he would return them promptly.

Sitting back in his chair at the strange circumstance, his mind wandered to Gayle. He knew he had some making up to do, and he hoped the jewelry would do the trick. If it didn't, he had something else up his Scottish brogue sleeve on the 24th. 

Turning to his computer, he turned on the camera application that was connected to the table clocks in both drawing rooms of his home that he'd been keeping an eye on Gayle with, as well as the cameras above each of the three entry doors strictly for security reasons. Being that Ian had called him, he felt it necessary to keep those three on, just in case. He disconnected the two cameras inside the house, and the two boxes went blank.

He smiled. "It's a start, little fawn. I'm trying."

Later that afternoon ...

Gayle had just started a fire in the drawing room because it was chilly in the room. While the afternoons were warm enough, the mornings and evenings had begun to get downright bone-chilling. Hamish had only just turned on the heated floors a few days earlier because, since the castle was made of stone, it would become uncomfortably cold. It was bearable while she cleaned, but when lounging it seemed only the warmth of the fire would warm her up. She was happy her dad had taught her to build them, and she got a nice one blazing by the time Hamish got home.

"Evenin', Sir," she said as he plopped down in his recliner.

"Hello. Brilliant fire," he noted.

She smiled appreciatively then prepared his drink and handed it to him. After she put his slippers on his feet, she sat on the edge of the couch, took a deep breath then came out with ... nothing.

Hamish observed her anxiety. "You may have a drink, but just one."

"Oh, god, thank you!" she spouted as she went to the bar. Looking over the bottles of liquors, she found herself perplexed. "Sir? What should I drink if I don't want to get tipsy, but I need to be brave enough to talk about ... tough stuff?"

"Whisky," he answered, amused at her question.

"Oh, obviously," she snickered as she poured just enough for three swallows in a glass. "Did I mention I'm not much of a drinker?" 

After she sat down, he replied, "No, but I could tell."

"It depends on what mood I want to be in when I drink."

"Really? Do tell."

"Well, when I'm out with my girlfriends and want to dance and be silly, I'll have vodka and orange juice, or vodka with cranberry juice."

"Lass, vodka wouldn't make a squirrel tipsy."

She smirked. "Usually it's three or four to get me pleasantly buzzed."

"Right. Go on."

Finally taking a sip, she coughed and choked and pounded on her chest. "Holy crap!" she gurgled. "Now I remember why I don't drink the hard stuff."

Hamish tried not to laugh, but he couldn't stifle a chuckle. 

"To get totally sloshed, which was only once, mind you and an accident, a Long Island iced tea." She paused. "And White Russians I try to stay away from."

"Why is that?"

She sighed. "Gets me horny as hell and completely uninhibited."

He gave her a smirk. "I shall remember that."

Taking another sip, the second swallow didn't burn as harshly as the first. She sat back and forced herself to relax. "Ok, I've been thinking all day about ... what happened Saturday."

"Damn, that Whisky does work quickly on you."

"Told ya. Okay, so, since we're basically living together, it's expected to be somewhat ... non-boss, employee. The sex definitely complicated things, and I hadn't realized it would be so tricky. If you were my boss-boss, I wouldn't have care if you lied. Hell, what bosses don't? But having sex changed the equation. I unconsciously - subconsciously? Whatever - expected you to follow my rules of a relationship."

Hamish's eyebrows rose curiously.

"No! That didn't come out right." She sighed, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts. "I know we're not in a relationship, but being intimate is some sort of relationship. There's still trust involved, but I shocked myself at how pissed I was when I found out you lied. You have to remember what my ex put me through. I'm a Scorpio. We are the most jealous, possessive sign, and I'm typical of that. But I wasn't with my ex, so all of this is new to me. That's why I bit back."

He nodded, sipped his drink then said, "Go on."

She gulped the rest of the dark liquid down with a soft groan. "I'm not jealous of the women you're dating, just ... where you take them. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, and I understand that. Things slow down a wee bit at work in autumn, so we'll discuss where you'd like to go."

She smiled, grateful he was letting her get everything out. "Thank you, Sir. Ok, so, with all that being said, what it boils down to is that I need to step back and not let my heart get in the way. Truthfully, I've grown to care about you ... as a friend-boss. But I've forgotten that I'm going home the end of January. I do hope we can still keep in touch."

"Hmm. Ms. Boyce, it sounds like you're saying goodbye now." She looked at her empty glass then at the bar. "No. I said one drink."

"Errgh. Okay. And you have completely miscombobulated everything I've been trying to say. I am not saying goodbye."

"I don't quite know what miscombobulated means, but I do know exactly what you're saying. Are you done?"

She smiled and was going to say something snarky but didn't. "I think so."

"Good." He leaned forward in his chair and set his glass on the coffee table. 

"Oh! Wait!" He growled, which made her grin, but she grew serious once again. "Sir, can I have a little more time to get over being pissed at you? I try to let it go, but then I think about it and get pissed all over again."

He sat there and stared at her for a second. "Is it my turn now?"

This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. She just knew he would send her downstairs to the dungeon and punish her ... not that she wouldn't have liked it.

"Yes Sir."

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "Are you positive?"

She grinned. "Yes Sir. I'm positive."

He waited a second before he said, "Yes, you may have all the time you need. I do understand what you're feeling, and I'm glad you are able to talk to me about it. I've grown fond of you as well, and it's not fair to you that I do not allow you to see other men." His tone was bitter with the last few words.

She sighed. "Sir, do you want to hear the truth?"

"I would."

"A part of me wanted to go, but again, I'm not staying here. What's the use is getting a crush on a Scot?" She blushed and wanted to die. "Besides, truthfully, I look forward coming home ... to you." 

He looked at her harshly, then his face softened. "Ms. Boyce, that was very sweet of you to say. I do, as well. Did you pick up my dry cleaning?"

"Yes Sir. They're hanging up in your closet. I sooo wanted to peek at it. Are you wearing a skirt?" She knew it was a kilt, but she wanted to get a rise out of him.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she could see his eyes were light. "Every American woman wants to know if you Scots actually wear anything underneath."

"A true Scot does not."

"So, if I wanted to find out who is and who isn't by dropping my handbag, do you think they'd pick it up for me?" she asked with a devilishly evil grin.

"No, you'd pick it up and I'd spank your ass for trying."

"Not in public, you wouldn't." 

"Try me," he replied, narrowing his eyes at her. "By the way, do you need something to keep the chill of for Saturday night, a shoulder wrap, perhaps?"

"A shawl!" she exclaimed. "Shit. I didn't think about getting one."

"No worries. Would a black one go with your dress?"

"Yes Sir, it would."

"Terrific. I have one you can wear."

Before he could continue, she blurted out, "But you'd need to wear it, wouldn't you?"

"Hahaha. It was my mother's. I was going to ask Jessie but forgot. What's for dinner?"

"Green pepper steak, but I'm cooking it all. I forgot to tell you Jessie called around noon. She has something to do with Kelsey and asked if I'd mind."

"Sounds lovely."

They sat in silence for a few moments, both anticipating the other to say something. Just as Gayle was about to break the awkwardness, Hamish said, "Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Is Bessie preparing it?"

"What?" Then it hit her. "Oh! You want me to start dinner."

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble," he said sarcastically.

"Give me half an hour," she said as she stood up. "And I'm glad we talked. I feel better."

"As do I. I didn't get a chance to say anything, really, but you summed it up nicely."

"I'm glad it made sense to someone," she laughed then headed to the kitchen.

Friday, September 20th, 2013

It being Friday, Gayle spent most of the morning in the kitchen doing laundry, and by the afternoon she began to sweep the hardwood floors and vacuum the drawing room rugs so the room would be clean for the weekend. 

She tried not to think about what would happen at the charity event, but she couldn't help it. Her nerves were rattled, and her anxiety grew at meeting so many people she didn't know, had nothing in common with, more than likely, but more importantly, how to behave so that Hamish would be proud of her.

Proud of her. She had spent the past seven weeks cooking, cleaning, pampering and being at the Lord of the Duncanstone's beck and call. But honestly, she couldn't complain. He was kind, thoughtful, considerate, allowed her to volunteer at St. Athernase Church, and the sex wasn't bad. It was more than tolerable. 

She loved being with him - having sex, joking and laughing together, pleasing him, especially sexually. Her body had become so sensitive to his touch that all he had to do was barely run his fingernail lightly over her breasts before her nipples perked right up in gratitude; her body convulsed and shook as the pads of his fingers lightly traced down her stomach to the extremely delicate spot just above her bikini line.

Her thoughts ran rampant as she swept the Hoover over the throw rug in front of the antique table by the window. The table showcased several family photos and a very ancient-looking and fragile vase. Stepping back, she pulled the Hoover with her but hadn't seen Bessie approach her from behind, sniffing at something by Gayle's foot. Her left foot went back and stepped on the dog's tail, and she quickly lifted up the heel, but before she realized it, her other foot came back as well right against Bessie's ribs, though it wasn't hard at all. 

As if in slow motion, her body fell back and having nothing to catch herself, lost the grip on the handle of the Hoover and it shot forward ... directly onto the vase before it broke into several pieces and crashed to the floor. Finally able to get her footing, she gasped at the destruction. 

"No. No. Fuck! NO!" she howled as she knelt and picked up the shattered pieces. "Oh, Bessie, what did I do? Fuck!!" Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back tears.

Falling onto her ass, she looked at the porcelain shards in her hands and knew it was hopeless. Only then did her tears come in sheets. "Oh, Bessie," she lamented as the canine licked her cheeks and neck where her wet, salty tears had landed. "Your daddy is gonna kill me!"

Hamish's office in Cupar, moments later ...

Hamish was weak, and he knew it. It had only been two days since he turned off the cameras to the two drawing rooms, but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't concentrate on the financial reports he'd been staring at for the past thirty minutes without looking at the computer monitor, wondering what Gayle was doing and how good she would look, as she always did when she cleaned. 

Cursing at himself, he reconnected the camera to the small drawing room since she'd told him at breakfast she had to vacuum in there. Sure enough, there she was but half her body was hidden behind the couch on the rug in front of the window and holding something.

"Shit. Is Bessie hurt?" he wondered aloud and leaned closer to the monitor. 

Only then did he saw a few porcelain shards on the floor. Looking over the table in front of the window, he noticed the vase was missing. He disconnected the camera once more, leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and began to scheme of an evil plan.

Later that afternoon ...

Gayle knelt on the large pillow cushion beside Hamish's recliner waiting for him to come home. His slippers sat in front of her, ready for his feet, his mail was on the coffee table as was his drink. Silent tears ran down her reddened, splotchy cheeks, and she held onto her hands clasped behind her so tight her nails were digging into her palms. She was so nervous about telling her boss about breaking the vase that when she was shaving, she nicked her legs in several places. The bleeding had stopped, of course, but her legs were completely hideous to look at.

"Please, please, please, don't be angry," she repeated over and over, as if that would keep the punishment she knew was coming, and deserved, from not happening.

Hearing the front door close, she started to shake and could barely keep still in the position, which she never had a problem with before. Knowing she had a few seconds before he came in, she quickly wiped her eyes just in time.

"Hello, Ms. Boyce," he said cheerily as he walked in and sat down in his chair.

"Good evening, Sir," she replied as she dutifully put his slippers on his feet then handed him his drink and mail. She was amazed how controlled her voice was, but she had little control over her body. She first put the left slipper on the right foot, and when she realized her mistake, shook her head and finally managed to put them on him correctly.

Such formality, little fawn? Considering what you've done, you should be a little nervous. No worries. I'll take care of you. I will take very good care of you.

"Are you coming down with a cold?" he asked then took a sip of his whisky.

Not looking at him, she murmured, "Nooo Sir. Sir? There's something I -"

"Not now, Ms. Boyce. I'd like to read my mail and get caught up on the news."

He cut her off so abruptly she didn't know whether she should make her confession now to get it over with or keep quiet. She went with her first gut instinct. "Sir, when I was cleaning, I -"




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 18



Glaring down at her, he was disheartened to see how red and bloodshot her eyes were. He knew it was an accident, and he wasn't going to punish her, not really. She would definitely be outside of her comfort zone, but his intentions were not evil.

"Do we need to have a discussion regarding the difference between Scottish English and American Eng ..."

He kept babbling on, but Gayle was so shocked at his attitude and tone that she didn't know what to say. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

"I'm ... sorry ... Sir," she croaked, sniffled and turned her head away.

"I've had a horrid day at work, and I'm not in the mood for your insolence. When I am ready to talk with you, I will start the conversation. Do you understand?"

I understand you're a fucking dick, boss! "Yes Sir, I understand."

Several minutes past as the wrinkling of the newspaper was the only sound made in the room, other than an occasional sniffling from Gayle as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She was so distraught, in fact, she was still shaking from holding her confession in. 

Taking a deep breath, she turned to him and stammered, speaking as quickly as she could to get it all out before he interrupted her again, "Sir, I'm sorry, but I broke one of your vases. It was an accident. I'm really, really sorry!"

He paused a moment before he took another sip then set the opened newspaper on his chest. "Hmm? What did you say?"

Closing her eyes briefly, she explained, "When I was cleaning, I ... lost my balance and the vacuum cleaner fell ... the vase fell and shattered on the hardwood floor." She took a deep breath to hold back a howling cry. "I'm so sorry."

You're not going to mention tripping over Bessie? Oh, my sweet bonny hen.

"Vase, you say? Which vase?"

"The ... vase on the table by the window in here. It's in the kitchen, but ... it can't be ... There's too many pieces ..." Her body shook violently, she looked away ashamed and began to sob.

"The ivory-colored vase with the heather etched on it?" She nodded. "Hmm."

Hmm? That's all you have to say?!

Calmly and slowly, he folded up the newspaper and set it on the coffee table. Putting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and almost got directly into her face. "Ms. Boyce, are you aware that the vase has been in our family for generations?" he asked, his voice slowly rising with every word.

"No Sir, and I can't even imag -"

"And do you have ANY idea of the value of that vase?" he roared, his tone harsh and his deep baritone bounced off the stone walls and drilled into her skull, piercing her brain and eradicating thousands of brain cells.

She cringed and wanted to crawl under the sofa. Shaking badly, she could barely speak. Swallowing several times and clearing her throat, she finally looked at him and garbled, "I'm sure it's worth tens of thou -"

He put his hand up, instantly silencing her. Her shoulders bobbed up and down as she broke down into a fresh flow of tears.

"Ms. Boyce, I'm fully aware that items that get broken are accidents, but they shouldn't happen in the first place. Do you agree or disagree?"

She was afraid to answer him, for fear gripped her heart, and she could hardly fathom why he was so incessantly angry. Yes, she knew he was going to be mad. Yes, she knew she was going to get yelled at. No, she didn't think she'd get her ass reamed as badly as she was.

"ANSWER ME!" he bellowed.

She was so startled she jumped and burst into a hailstorm of heavy, warm tears, her cries filling the room. "Aggreee wid you," she managed to say.

"Ms. Boyce, you will go downstairs to the dungeon, start a fire and wait for me there. I may be a few minutes, or I may be an hour. I have to consider what the appropriate punishment shall be."

If she had eaten lunch, it would have ended up on the clean carpet in front of her, and then that would just give him something more to scream at her about. 

"Yes Sir," she croaked.

Still shaking, unable to gain any control of the sobbing, she placed both hands on the floor and pushed herself up, not even caring how undignified she appeared. She couldn't care less. It'd be better to get it over with by letting him kill her in the basement and bury her in the Tithe garden, if he'd give her that much of a dignified burial.

Her own slippers were sitting by the coffee table, and as she went to slip her feet into them, Hamish barked, "No! I do not want you comfortable while you are waiting. I want you to think about what you've done."

She looked at him appalled, remembering how cold the stone staircase was the first time she went down there barefoot. Attempting one final attempt, she pleaded, "Please, Sir, Mr. McDougal, don't -"

The callous look he gave her metaphorically slapped her across her face, and she knew it was a lost cause. "Now."

Taking her death walk out of the room and into the hall, when she passed the French doors leading to the back, she contemplated running out and seeking safe haven with David. But she kept on toward the dungeon and down the stairs. Kneeling on the hard, cold stone floor, she allowed herself a few minutes of heart-wrenching cries of anguish before she tried as hard as she could to control her crying. 

Fifteen minutes later ...

Hamish changed out of his work clothes, grabbed a few play items, set most of them at the top of the dungeon stairs then quietly walked down. The chill of the room was gone from the nice fire she'd made, yet when he looked at her kneeling on the floor, her nipples were sprightly and hard, regardless of the heat from the fire. The apples of her cheeks were red and splotchy, as he was expecting, but he frowned when he saw the single tear streak down the side of her face.

Putting the restraints and blindfold on the limb stretcher in the middle of the room, he stood in front of her, placed his palm under her chin and gently lifted her head up. He hated the look of fear and regret in her eyes, and he knew he had to do something to alleviate her distress.

"Stand up, Ms. Boyce." 

She sniffled a few times and whimpered quietly, "I can't, Sir. My knees ..."

Shaking his head at his thoughtlessness, he reached down, took her hands and helped her up; she moaned and groaned as she got on her feet.

"Come. Sit," he said, his voice soft and sympathetic, yet authoritative. 

He put his arm around her waist and led her to the couch. Sitting beside her, he took her legs and swung them round until her knees were over his thighs; she turned her body to face him, the arm rest against her back. He grimaced at the small, red crevices in her knees then began to tenderly rub at the flesh and bone, watching her facial expressions as he did so. Taking in a sharp breath through her teeth, he kneaded the sides of her knees, and her hand flew to his shoulder, as if telling him it was too much. Taking the hint, he used his palms gently for a few minutes, hoping that was at least take away some of the discomfort. 

Looking into her face, she smiled. "It's ... better, Sir. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Pausing, he asked, "Do you know why you're down here?"

She nodded. "Yes Sir. I was careless, and I ... promise I'll be more careful from now on."

It seemed as if she was about to break down again, but he wouldn't have it. Shaking his head, he said, "No more tears. And yes, you were careless, and I have no doubt you will be more vigilant."

"I will, Sir."

Smiling, he brushed her hair from her face gingerly, letting his fingertips trail down her neck to her shoulder before he took her hands. "You do remember once punishment is given, all is forgotten, and I can trust you've learnt your lesson?"

Wiping an eye with the back of her hand, she said, "Yes Sir, I understand."

"Good. Go get the restraints and blindfold over there." He cocked his head toward where he'd left them.

Obediently, she retrieved the items and brought them back to him, offering them. He placed the blindfold on the couch, took her hand and secured the restraints around her wrists then patted his knee. She put each foot up so he could fasten both restraints on each ankle.

"You still please me, little one. You didn't hesitate."

She tried to smile but couldn't, and he noticed her trepidation. He shook his head, stood and put his hands on her hips. Their eyes locked, and she almost lost all the strength in her legs with his intense scrutiny. He felt her body shake slightly, so he wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand on the back of her head and nudged it until her cheek was against his chest. A part of her wanted to put her arms around him, while another part was afraid to because he hadn't instructed her to do so. 

Rocking her back and forth ever so slowly, he asked, "Are you frightened?"

Answering honestly, she replied, "A little, Sir."

"Hmm. Little is good. But do you trust me?"

She paused a moment to think, unable to control her body from shaking. "Yes Sir."

Looking over her face, he asked, "Then why are you still quivering?" 

She couldn't think of the correct answer, so she remained silent.

"Ms. Boyce, breathe." 

He then took in several deep breaths through his nose and exhaled from his mouth. Finally comprehending, she copied his technique and surprisingly began to relax, if only a little. "Better?"

With one last long, deep sigh, she told him, "Yes Sir."

"Well done." He grabbed the blindfold, gave her a reassuring smile and placed it over her eyes. "Can you see anything?" She moved her head in several directions then shook her head. "Brilliant. Stay as you are."

"Yes Sir."

He quickly and as quietly as he could retrieved the bag of toys at the top of the stairs then set everything out on a couch cushion. Taking the plastic shower liner and a blanket, he placed them on the wooden platform of the stretcher, as well as a throw pillow from the couch to rest her head on.

Facing Gayle, he said, "I am going to give you specific instructions, and you need to follow them exactly to the letter so you don't hurt yourself."

She nodded. "I understand, Sir."

Taking her hand, he took the lead so she wouldn't stub her toe on the corner wooden legs of the stretcher and stepped aside a foot. "Alright, step up with both feet, one at a time."

She did so, then he told her to turn around, keeping a hold of her hand. Taking both, he said, "Sit down, but I'll hold your hands for support. I've got you."

Tentatively nodding, she leaned back until she sat on the platform.

"Now lean back. There's a pillow for your head." Once she did, she had to scoot down a little per his instructions. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes Sir."

Smiling at her beautiful body, he knelt beside her and ran a hand over her shoulder to her breastbone, trailing the nail of his pinkie finger between her breasts. Her breathing became shallow as he went further south to the inside of her thigh, moving his fingers in circles then a figure eight. He loved the responsiveness of her body, how every touch would send her into pleasurable spasms.

Securing the rings from the chains on the stretcher to each restraint, she was exactly how he wanted her: Her arms up over her head, her legs bent and knees wide, exposing her sex. 

He then pulled out two foam ear plugs from his jeans pocket. Rolling one between his fingers to thin it out, he said, "I'm putting ear plugs in your ears then headphones. Remember, you may not use your safe word, but if you find yourself too overwhelmed, you may use red. It will not stop the punishment, but I will give you a moment to collect yourself."

"Yes Sir."

"Also, you are not permitted to come. No matter how much you beg, plead or cry, you will not come."

"No Sir. I doubt I will," she replied, her voice quaking a little.

Oh, yes you will, little one, and often.

"If, however, you find yourself getting close orgasm, you must tell me. If I allow it, I will touch your shoulder, like this." He squeezed her shoulder, and she nodding her understanding. "Good girl. One more thing: When I slap your hip like this ..." He did it once, though not hard. "...You will tell me how close you are to coming on a scale from one to ten. Understand?" She nodded again. "Now, repeat the rules I've just given you."

She said them correctly, and he gave her a quick, soft kiss. "Now, I'm going to insert the ear plugs, but it won't hurt." Once they were both in, he waited a moment to let them expand. He then asked, in a voice akin to a funeral parlor, "Ms. Boyce, can you hear me?" 

She turned her head in his direction. "Yes Sir, a little, but you're very muffled."

After turning on the headphones and making it very loud, he put it over her ears. This time whispering softly, he asked if she could hear him. She didn't reply, so he was satisfied she couldn't hear a thing.

As Gayle lay on the stretcher, her thoughts raced frantically. She was completely defenseless, extremely apprehensive and still frightened. But yes, she did trust him. Taking several more deep breaths, she flexed her hands to loosen them up, forced the tension from her shoulders and finally relaxed.

"That's my lass," he said aloud to himself, pleased she was making an effort.

He took a few items then sat down beside her on the wooden plank of the stretcher and proceeded to lightly graze the feather tip around her breasts, purposely not touching her nipples. She kept her lips terse as he teasingly drew the feather between her breasts to her stomach, drawing out goose flesh as a high-pitched moan escaped from her lips before he skirted it up her waist.

Grinning wickedly, he flicked the tip over her crotch from the inside of her thighs to her calves then the bottoms of her feet. As soon as it touched the center of her soles, she jumped, locked her legs straight and gripped the chain tightly.

"Shhhttt ... NO! You know I'm ... AAAHH!! Ticklish!"

Hamish didn't let up, regardless of Gayle's screaming in agony. In fact, he loved seeing such an intense reaction from her.

Dragging it up to her neck, he used a heavier touch with the feather to make sure she could feel it, and when she tilted her head for more he traced it up her chin to her nose. She chuckled and wrinkled her nose, but of course she couldn't do anything about getting rid of the annoying itching.

Switching instruments, he placed the Wartenburg Wheel - a fairly small, round and somewhat sharp multi-pronged wheeled device - on the top of her foot, slowly taunting her and loving every minute of it. Her perfect round breasts rose and fell as her breath became heavier, her mouth hung open, and her forehead furrowed with lines as she tried to figure out what he was using on her. It didn't matter to her, though. Every one of her nerve endings were fired up to the extreme, sending electrical pulses through her entire body, especially when he scraped it over her stiff nipple, pressing it harder and harder as the indentation caused nub to throb and expand. She murmured and sighed heavily, a small smile planted on her lips.

Not quite done with the feather, he ran it slowly up and down the inside of her arm, and got the most reaction from her when he grazed it on a spot below her armpit and the base of her breast. She groaned loudly and pulled away, but he was ready for that; he kept the quills on her flesh and brushed it in a tight circle before making it bigger and bigger until she begged him to stop.

"Fucking lovely," he murmured as he ran it one last time over both nipples just to goad her. 

Wanting to kick it up a notch, he picked up the paddle - one side fur and the other rubber - and caressed her shoulders and arms with the thick fur side.

"Hmm, that feels good," she shouted, not realizing how loud her voice was.

He chuckled and brought it down over her stomach to her hips and the inside of her thighs. Her body was completely loose and relaxed, but he didn't want her to be. Flipping the paddle over to the rubber side, he smacked the inside of her thigh, which made her squeal as she grabbed onto the chain. He slapped the flesh between her ass cheek and thigh, then the other, again and again.

Trying to wriggle away, unsuccessfully, she called out, "Hmmhmm, nooo ... Sir! Too hard. Too haaarrrr!"

He slapped her again, though with much less impact, just to remind her that if it was too much, she was to call out the safety color. He knew it was enough, so he looked to see if her skin was pink, and it was just slightly shaded. 

Grinning when he saw her pussy moist and glistening, he commented, "So, you're getting there, my little fawn."

Reaching inside the cup on the floor beside him, he took an ice cube and let a few droplets fall onto her nipples. She gasped as the cold water dribbled over her bulbous mounds to her sides. Then he put the cube directly on her nipple and made a circle around it; she whimpered and quivered as she tried to move away from the assault.

He placed the cube in his mouth then attacked her nipple, making her yelp as she tried to catch her breath, but he didn't let up. He suckled and slid the ice around her areola until he could feel it burst into multiple tiny lumps. With his other hand he pinched her nipple, which was just as hard as the one between his lips.

Bringing his hand down to her crotch, he cupped her pussy, letting his middle finger slide from outside her labia to her drenched opening. Watching her face, he gathered her juices and slid his finger slowly up to her stiff, engorged clit and circled the nub with pressure. She raised her hips for more.

"Hmmphgh ... don' stop, Sir," she murmured breathlessly.

Abruptly, he removed his finger and pulled his head back, smirking when he saw her chest broken out in a bright red rash, the sides of her neck just as red and discolored.

"Damnit!" Gayle screamed, finally bringing her hips back down. 

"Tsk, tsk," Hamish sighed. "So unladylike of you, lass."

Leaning forward, he brushed his cold lips against hers, and she lifted her head, kissing him back enthusiastically. She moaned under her breath, which she was quickly losing, as his tongue fervently went on an expedition to find her own. The tips of their tongues danced together until he drew his head back. Tenderly yet firmly, he grabbed the side of her face, his fingertips gently scrubbing her neck, his thumb lovingly brushing against her cheek.

She turned her head toward him, a small smile forming on her lips. "Sir, that kiss was hawt," she whispered, though her words were faintly slurred. 

He kissed her nose then pulled back, grabbing the candle and - not wanting the scent of sulfur from a match to give away his next move - a lighter he had ready at his feet. Standing, he lit the wick, held the candle vertically about thirty inches above her body and tipped it, allowing several drops to fall onto her stomach. 

"Hooooly OW! OW! Fuuck!" she cried out and squirmed, taking a sharp breath between her teeth. "WHAT THE ..."

Gripping the chains with all of her might, they clanged angrily as her arms and legs struggled against the restraints, her breasts swaying back and forth as she tried to shake the wax off of her. Not relenting to her protests, he let more drops fall on her stomach, making sure they weren't in any particular pattern so each would be unpredictable. Now her breathing was heavy and shallow, and a constant growl came from the back of her throat. 

This time he tilted the candle over her left breast and let a single drop fall on it, staying away from her nipple on purpose; he didn't want to overwhelm her too much. She sighed heavily and again when a few drops descended on her other breast. 

"Hmmphggh, shiiiit," she gurgled. "Ohmygodohmygod."

After a few more droplets fell between her breasts, which cascaded up her collarbone and over the crook of her neck, he tapped her hip. Struggling to talk, she said, "Nine, Sir! NINE!"




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 18



He snickered under his breath, but he wasn't ready for her to come yet - close, but not quite yet.

He then drew a line of wax back down to her stomach, then on to her thighs and down to the tops of her feet before bringing it back up to her shoulders, leaving a trail as he went the entire length of her arms. Blowing the candle out, he began to massage her body from her hands to her feet, loving how erotic it was manipulating her flesh, hearing her moan, watching her body slowly liquefy under his touch. The wax, now a silky oil, quickly melted under the heat she radiated. Her body had become completely still except for her soft whimpering, which grew by the second. 

Getting on his knees at the foot of the apparatus, he slowly slid his hands up to her breasts, which he squeezed and molded, twisting her nipples and pinching hard until her body finally shook, breaking her out of wherever she was mentally. Burying his lips over her clit, she grunted something, but he couldn't understand what she said.

For over a minute he lapped and sucked and flicked his tongue over the nub, holding onto her breasts securely, for she was then writhing under his touch and tongue, whimpering loudly, almost in a faint sob.

"NINE AN' A HAAALF!" she screeched, struggling as hard as she could. "STOP! 'm gonna ... please! Nonono!"

Licking his way from her pussy back to her clit, he flicked his tongue back and forth, up and down until she shrieked, her head flew back, her face expressionless, and her mouth gaped open. With one final squeeze of her nipples, he clutched at her shoulder, which gave his permission for her to come.

And she did ... hard. She gripped the chain so hard her knuckles turned white, all the while writhing and gasping for breath as her juices flowed from her, her nipple throbbing under his other hand.

Appalled, she moaned, "Sorry, sorry."

"You'll be sorry in a minute," he said, even though she couldn't hear him.

While she tried to catch her breath, he grabbed her waist with his left hand and wiped his right hand on his jeans of the oil. Collecting moisture from her ejaculate, he inserted his forefinger and middle finger inside her. She moaned again as he hooked his fingertips over her g-spot, and her vaginal muscles contracted as another orgasm coursed through her.

"Fuck! No! STOP! You didn' give meeee ..."

Not allowing her to come down from her first climax, he finally placed his hand on her shoulder and made her come again by finger fucking her. When she did come, she hiked her hips up and growled, her head shaking back and forth; her juices collecting in his cupped hand.

Grinning, giving her a minute to collect herself, he sat down at her hips and ran his hand over her body until she relaxed. He took a small ice cube, tapped his finger over her bottom lip until she opened her mouth, let a few drops of the cold liquid fall into her mouth then placed it in her mouth. She took it gratefully, and when it melted she thanked him. 

Leaning forward, he kissed her so passionately that it took her breath away. "Hmm, Sir?" she whispered when he pulled away. "If you keep kissing me like that, you're going to make me come again."

"Really?" he said. "Let's see, then, little fawn."

Placing his hand on her shoulder, his other hand not touching her, he kissed her again, hard, adoringly, with so much affection and fire that his cock sprang under the restraint of his then-too-tight jeans. She raised her head and met his lips with heat and obsession, their lips smacking, both moaning, their tongues meshed together.

Suddenly, she threw her head on the pillow and whined his name, not caring that she didn't use his title. Her body shook as yet another orgasm surged through her, traveling from her toes to the tips of her fingertips. 

"Oh, fuck, fuck, I just ... You didn't even touch me and I -"

Smiling and feeling like a proud lion that just caught its prey for the pride, he removed the headphones from her ears, carefully took out the ear plugs and lifted the blindfold, setting everything at his feet.

She kept her eyes closed tightly until she felt his fingers wiping something from the corners of her eyes. Slowly opening them, protecting them the fire light, it took her a few moments to focus on his face.

"Well, there she is. Why the tears, little one?"

"Oh, um, I was ... gone, and just ... emotional. Sir? I ... You ..."

"Shhh," he cooed. "Lie still, love. I'm going to remove the restraints. Just breathe."

"M'kay."

Soon enough he had her free, and she tried to sit up, but he quickly chastised her. With gentle, warm hands, he dotingly massaged her wrists then ankles until the blood returned, making her white flesh turn a light pink. 

"You've made an awful mess, here," he chided her.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she replied, slowly coming back around. "It's embarrassing."

"Oh, hush. Are you ready to sit up?"

"Yes Sir, I think so."

Grunting and groaning, with his arm behind her, he helped her sit, gave her a second then got her to her feet. Her knees buckled under her, but he caught her and led her to the couch. He was going to have her sit down, but she blocked him. Brazenly, as if they'd been lovers for years and she wasn't his submissive, she look him directly in his eyes and started to unbuckle his belt. 

His left eyebrow rose. "Ms. Boyce, what do you think are you doing?"

She pulled the belt through the belt's loops and began to unbutton his jeans. "Sir, I need to ... I want you to I need to feel you inside me."

"Do you, now?" he asked, his voice laden with hunger.

Nodding, her lustful eyes gazing up at him, her chin down, she pulled the jeans down his hips to his feet, and he stepped out of them. She almost croaked when she saw how hard his cock was, and while she wanted to take it into her mouth, she needed something more from him at that moment.

Taking one step closer to him, she placed her hands on his chest under his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, throwing it to the floor carelessly. She then took a step until he grasped the concept that she wanted him to sit. She watched his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed hard, but he didn't argue. Instead, he looked at her perplexed, almost as if he wanted to tell her to stop but couldn't find the words. 

Finally sitting down and keeping her eyes locked on his, she pushed his knees together, crawled up his legs until her knees were on both sides of his waist and teased his throbbing cock with her wet, hot pussy. 

"I hated not being able to touch you when I came," she whispered, her voice confident and sultry. She put her forearms on his shoulders and pressed her breasts against his chest, moved her shoulders up and down and rubbed her still-erect nipples against his chest hairs.

"No, Ms. Boyce," he objected firmly as he slid his hands between them and grasped her breasts, pinching her nipples hard. "You are not topping me, are you?"

Pushing her hips forward, she sat down on his rock-hard cock. Groaning his pleasure, she whispered, "I am on top now, Mr. McDougal." 

He replied breathlessly, wearing a devilish, crooked grin, "Then by all mean, Ms. Boyce, proceed."

Giving him a naughty, scorching look, she began to kiss his neck, trailing her tongue to his ear before kissing it while she ground herself against him. He tilted his head toward hers when her hot breath cascaded over his ear and neck.

"Fuck, woman. Your cunt is so tight, so fucking hot."

Soon enough, their lips locked - her arms around his neck, his arms around her waist - and she grated her hips back and forth, controlling how deep he got inside her. Both groaned and moaned as the heat built up between them, their breath equally heavy and raspy. The sound of their hips crashing together rang through the small room, and their hearts pounded as if one.

"Don't stop, Gayle. Fuck, don't stop!"

"Oh, Hamish," she whimpered, and he promptly smacked both ass cheeks hard. She yelped, but then gave him a sly grin.

A moment later, he gave a guttural growl, pushed her hard against him, keeping his arms tight around her, and shivered as he came with one long, deep, loud grunt directly into her ear. A second later, she followed with her own climax, whimpering and crying as she held onto him tight.

"Oh, Sir," she breathed heavily as she buried her face in his neck. "That was ... fuck."

His body shook with his chuckle as he relaxed against the couch, brushing damp wisps of her hair from her flushed face. "You are so eloquent with your words."

"I is, aren't I?" she teased. "But you felt ... different."

"Different? How so?"

"I don't know. It was like the first time, but better." He gave her a quizzical look. She sighed as she fought to find the right words. "I've never felt anything like that before. With my hearing and sight gone, I was constantly on edge waiting for your next touch and dying to hear your voice. And the orgasms were ... more intense." Then she smiled coyly. "But next time, maybe choose softer music? Mick Jagger's voice doesn't make very good mood music." 

He laughed, his deep baritone voice touched her soul, deep, in a place she never knew existed.

"Duly noted." Reaching over and feeling for her robe, he fed her arms through the sleeves and closed it in front, though her cleavage popped out proudly. She smiled gratefully and thanked him. 

"As much as I love looking at your lovely breasts, we should head on upstairs. You'll find your slippers at the end of the couch."

Kissing him quickly, she slowly slid off his now flaccid cock, groaning disapprovingly, as did he.

A few minutes later, they met an eager and angry Bessie, who had been waiting impatiently on the other side of the dungeon door. 

Walking down the hall, their hands were clasped in a tight hold like neither one of them wanted to let go. But Gayle's mind was reeling about what happened. "Sir, I don't understand why you ... allowed me to come so much. I thought punishments were supposed to be painful."

Stopping at the foot of the hallway stairs, giving her a very wicked smile, he asked, "Do you know how old that vase was?"

"Sir, you don't have to punish me all over ag -"

"The daughter of a client I've known since grade school made that for my birthday a few years ago. The reason why it looked so old was because it cracked baking in the kiln. The poor wee lass was dev -"

"Wha'?" she asked aghast. "You put me through all ... that and had me thinking ..." She sighed, ran her hand through her hair then smiled slowly. "Well, it wasn't all bad. I mean, you really had my brain all over the place, and I think I went to sub-space faster and harder than I did before."

"My evil plan succeeded, then."

"Maybe, but Sir, you really did scare the fuck out of me."

"I won't apologize, but do you think I could make up for it?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows.

"No, thanks," she said, giving him a cunning grin.

"No? Did you just say 'no' me, Ms. Boyce?" he asked, his voice carrying a tinge of friskiness.

Taking a step up backwards, carefully feeling for the edge before taking another, she replied, "I just meant you'll have to catch me, first." Suddenly squealing and running up to the landing, she turned around when she realized he wasn't following her. "Um, too much, Sir?"

"Way too much. I'm going to let Bessie out. Go bathe. I'll warm up the leftovers for dinner."

"Yes Sir. Thanks. I do feel kinda slimy right now."

He smiled. "Slimy and sexy, just the way I like you. Now get."

Later that evening ...

Gayle laid in bed tossing and turning, trying to turn her brain off from what all had happened in the dungeon. She wasn't sure how she felt about him tricking her into thinking the vase was worth thousands of pounds and he was really angry, but then again, she couldn't be mad at him with the number and intensities of the orgasms he allowed her. She liked the mental domination he had over her; physical control is one thing, but the mental was in a realm all by itself.

After an hour, she glanced at the clock and saw it was only 11:17. Picking up her cell phone, she texted him, 'Are you asleep'

A second later, she read, 'Yes'

Smiling gratefully, she sent, 'Can't sleep'

'Why not'

She hesitated a moment. 'Lonely'

In Hamish's bedroom, he looked at the single word on his phone's display and smiled. He wondered how in the hell she knew he hadn't been to sleep either. 'Get the hell in here then'

'Not horny. Just wanna cuddle' 

She was horny again, though, but she really did just want to fall asleep in his arms. After all the emotions he put her through, she desperately needed to feel that closeness again. Oh, shit. I think I'm in trouble.

'Get your asp in here,' she read.

She laughed at the auto-correction. 'Don't have a snake'

From the end of the hall came a very loud yet amused, "BOYCE! You have two seconds to get in here or I'm rescinding the offer!"

In a flash, she bolted out of bed, ran into Hamish's bedroom and jumped on the other side of the bed. A very agitated Bessie barked and followed Gayle on the bed, with an equally agitated Scottish man grumbling his displeasure.

"For godssake, woman!" he snapped as he watched her pull the duvet and sheet down then slip underneath them. 

"Sorry, Sir," she replied while petting Bessie, who had stretched herself out between them. "You said you wanted me here in a hurry."

"Yes, well, I didn't mean for you to disrupt my private serenity," he snarled, though his eyes were teasing. "Now I'll never get to sleep." He hesitated and fussed at Bessie to get down and to her own bed, which she did with an unhappy growl. He looked at Gayle, who was lying on her side and glaring at him. "Are you going to ... cuddle or lay there staring at me all night?" 

Smiling shyly, she scooted closer to him, pressed the upper half of her body onto his, threw her leg over his and rested her head on his shoulder. He draped his arm over her shoulder and flattened his hand on the small of her back. Once she felt him relax, she closed her eyes and began to unconsciously run her fingertips through the sparse chest hairs.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.

"Um, good night, Sir."

He smacked her bare ass cheek, prompting her to squeal in surprise. "Aren't you supposed to be holding something?"

"Why would I want to hold my breath?" she teased, then exclaimed, "OW!" when he spanked her again, then she laughed. "Ohhh! You mean Sir Jr?"

Maneuvering her left arm so she could reach his cock, she wrapped her fingers around it and grinned when she felt it was half erect. It took all her strength to keep from attacking him again, but she really was wiped out and wanted to sleep.

"Thank you, Sir. Good night."

Kissing her forehead, he said, "Sleep well, love."

She paused a moment. "Good night, Sir Jr."

"Go to sleep, woman!" 

They chuckled before they settled down, both peacefully asleep within five minutes. On the floor, the furry, four-legged child finally closed her eyes, sighed heavily and thought, Zoinks! I rink I'm ronna have a mommy soon!



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 19



AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Thanks to the Scot for Hamish's display, which I just couldn't get out of my head!

I will admit I screwed up in the last chapter with Hamish disregarding Gayle's hard limit of no humiliation. As a RL submissive, I would have walked out and gone home! But mistakes DO happen, and any sensible and genuine Dom will admit his mistake and discuss it. So, please forgive my mistake!

We last left off the night before when Gayle was being 'punished' for breaking a vase, although Hamish used it as a chance to push her limits. I've gotten a few comments that it was harsh for Hamish to do so, but his intention wasn't to frighten her. He never did hurt her but made it pleasurable. 

*****

Saturday, September 21st, 2013, 1:00 p.m....

Gayle rushed to Hamish's home after she'd spent the morning volunteering at St. Athernase. While she worked, she'd had time to think about him breaking her stipulation in his contract by humiliating her in front of David. Lying - she could forgive. Humiliation, not so much. 

But she was still excited that today was the big day: The charity event. There was a lot she had to do before Kelsey, Jessie's daughter, would be coming over to do her hair and make-up. 

Bessie met her in the kitchen, and as she walked toward the stairs she saw Hamish's office light on, and there was music playing. Just before she reached the door, she recognized the keyboard of the slow, dream-like song. Then the words by Foreigner struck her like a brick. 

'Soooo long, I've been looking too hard, I've been waiting too long. Sometimes I don't know what I will find. I only know it's a matter of time...'

Fisting her hands, she thought, Go upstairs, Gayle. Don't put yourself in his trap.

"Gayle? Is that you?" Hamish called out.

She mouthed, fuck, relaxed her hands and walked into his office. He was deeply enthralled in whatever he was looking at on his computer monitor.

She was then assaulted with: 'When you love someone. When you love someone. It feels so right, so warm and true...'

Her ears began to ring loudly, and she felt like the room was stretching away from her to a narrow, dark corridor, Hamish at the very end. It left her in a cold yet feverish void. She couldn't define the expression on his face, not that she wanted to.

'I need to know if you feel it too. Maybe I'm wrong. Won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong? This heart of mine has been hurt before. This time I wanna be sure. I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. I've been waiting for a girl like you...'

"Gayle, are you alright?" he asked, his manner and tone very normal, not teasing or accusing her of a thing.

"I, um, yeah." Taking a deep breath, she told him she was going to take a bath so she'd be ready for Kelsey, who was arriving around three. "Have you eaten lunch, Sir?"

He nodded. "How did your date with Michael go?" Then his voice was accusatory.

She grew defensive. "Sir, it wasn't a date. I told you that. It was just drinks at The Witchery, and I only drank coffee." She shrugged her shoulders. "I won't be seeing him outside the church again. Besides, I had the feeling he wanted more than just coffee."

That's my girl. Leaning back in his chair, he put his hands behind his head and looked at her smugly. 

The lyrics blurred into one long word, though she could still understand the meaning of every single one.

'Now I know it's right, from the moment I wake up till deep in the night. There's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be than holding you tenderly. I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life...'

Gayle was floored. She didn't know what the hell he was trying to pull. Regardless, her heart was pounding, and it felt like her body was answering the question for her mind.

Gathering her courage, she asked, "Sir, may I have a moment to speak with you... once I clean up?" 

"Of course."

Sometime later, Hamish was still at his computer when she walked in carrying papers, her forefinger between the pages. "May I sit, Sir?"

"Yes," he replied and pushed the chair back from the desk and looked her over. 

She was wearing a black mesh, full-body apron, of course not hiding a damned thing. He had to force back a smile at how good she looked because he didn't know what to make of the look of determination on her face.

Sighing heavily, repeating her speech in her head, she said, "I've been thinking this morning." She laid the papers on his desk. "I've agreed to all of your conditions to the contract, Sir, but you've neglected to abide by mine."

He raised an eyebrow and took the papers, willing to hear her out. 

"At the bottom," she told him.

His eyes skirted to her handwritten addition, which she'd added before she signed it and presented it to him in the bar of the hotel in Virginia. 'No humiliation.' His mind wandered to their conversation - no public nudity.

Fuck. She's got me there.

He laid the papers aside, and she was expecting him to say something sarcastic. Instead, he grew dead serious, regret and pain conveyed in his eyes. "Gayle, I do realize I fucked up by crossing the line with your hard limit, and I do know I hurt you, and that's the last thing I ever wanted to do. I never claimed to be perfect, far from it. I hardly slept last night. I just lay in bed staring at you all night."

His words floored her, his voice filled with anguish. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and exonerate him, but she couldn't. Not yet. There was still so much confusion she was dealing with. She could only offer him a brief reprieve.

"Thank you, Sir. Lying to me about David is done and over with. But your forgiveness with my hard limit... I'm going to need some time with that."

"I understand. I, too, have done a lot of thinking. It seems I've forgotten to review your hard limits on a monthly basis, thus my fuck up. Now that you have more experience in being submissive, we will reexamine the contract mid-week."

She nodded, thrilled he had remained calm and discussed her concerns in a mature and rational manner. "Fine," she said as she stood and headed for the door. "Oh, and by the way, you're not wrong."

"Hmm? I'm never wrong. But what in particular are you referring to?" he asked confused.

Who the fuck said that?! Gayle reprimanded herself at saying it as she walked out and down the hall. Stew on that for a bit with your little game. 

Just after 6 p.m....

For almost two hours in the upstairs hall bathroom, Jessie's daughter, Kelsey combed, primped, pinned up, curled, teased and coifed Gayle's hair expertly until it met Kelsey's approval. Kelsey had already done Gayle's make-up, although Gayle wasn't sure about the grass-green eye shadow and blue eye liner. She wanted a subtle, sexy look, not look like a hooker Hamish hired for the evening. But Kelsey was one stubborn woman, so Gayle gave in and chose to wait until everything was done and then reapply it for a softer, more natural look.

Gayle had been seated on the vanity bench away from the mirror when Kelsey was finally finished. Stepping back, she gave one final inspection of her masterpiece then prompted, "Alrecht. Brammer! See whit ye hink."

Nervously, Gayle approached the mirror with her eyes closed and practically cut herself in half pulling at the robe's belt tight around her waist. Sighing heavily and fearing the worst, she slowly opened her eyes. She didn't know what to look at first: Her flawless, magically altered face or her professional-looking, wedding-inspired hairstyle.

"Kelsey, oh, my god!" she stammered, tilting her head to and fro to get a better view at every angle of her hair. 

It was in an upsweep with thin locks of hair cascading down the sides of her face, the back tucked into a soft bun, which was held together at the top by a diamond butterfly hair clip that her mother, Jessie, let Gayle wear for the evening. She couldn't have been more pleased with her make-up. Her normal-colored eyes of blue-gray looked more of a deep sea blue, no gray showing at all and looked bigger than they ever had before.

Turning to Kelsey, Gayle said with a huge smile, "Thank you, Kelsey. You did a great job."

"Ye waur an easy model, Gayle. Thaur wasnae much Ah hud tae dae."

"Pssshht, it takes me an hour to get my face just right, and even then I look like an alcoholic who's been on a week-long binge. I never would have thought green eye shadow would look so good with blue eyeliner."

"Hamish is gonnae swoon when he sees ye! Aam tellin' ye, if Ah werenae merried, Ah'd gie mah left tit tae be his date tonecht."

"Kelsey!" Gayle gasped then chuckled.

"Weel, nae mah left tit but a foot, mebbe. Ronan paid a bonnie price fur these tittes, an' he'd hang me up oan th' clothes line an' beat me raw!" she said seriously, shaking her shoulders that made her double D breasts give Gayle seasickness.

Gayle's mind drifted as she envisioned herself being bound to a clothes line, her feet spread wide, her ankles tied to the posts and being flogged by Hamish. 

Feeling her cheeks burning, she said, "I wish I had something to give you for all you've done, Kelsey."

"Nae need. Awl Ah ask is 'at ye hae a guid time."

"Ha! I'm nervous as hell, but I am excited."

"Ah hae nae doobt yoo'll hae a stoatin time. Ronan an' Ah cannae go coz Molly has an upsit tummy, but Maw will be haur tae pick me up. She wants me tae tak' picters afair she gits haur." 

Looking at her watch, Kelsey took something out of her purse and handed it to Gayle. "Now, haur ur th' earrings. Ah dornt want tae be in yer way, sae aam gonnae bide mah time haur in th' bathroom until ye tois ur ready fur picters."

Giving Kelsey a quick hug, she thanked her again. "Kelsey, would you let me take you to dinner, or just drinks. We'll have a girl's night out. Si... Hamish won't mind."

Kelsey gave her a broad smile. "Ah wood loove 'at. Ah've hud fun. Ah know ye will nae be haur fur lang, but Ah hiner we can be friends while yoo're haur."

Gayle was very touched and had to push back tears so she wouldn't mess up her make-up that Kelsey painstakingly worked on. "I would. I miss my girlfriends back home."

After closing the door to the bathroom, Gayle put the earrings in her bedroom and knocked on Hamish's bedroom door.

"Come in!" he hollered out, his voice sounding muffled and strained.

"Sir, Kelsey's waiting in the bath -" She stopped mid-sentence and gaped at her boss.

He was standing with his back to her, one foot on the couch and tying his shoe. However, she wasn't looking at his feet, she was looking at the bottoms of his ass cheeks and his balls, which were displayed proudly under the hem of his kilt; the jacket had a rounded tail, but it was hiked up enough to still advertise his goods.

Overcoming her shock quickly, she said, "My, my, Mr. McDougal. I see you are a true Scot."

He shook his head then turned around, giving her a sly grin. "You had any doubt?"

She tried to answer, but she grew tongue tied as she inspected him: He was wearing a waist-length short, open black jacket with three buttons on the sleeves and at the waist; a black vest; a crisp, white shirt and a black tie, which was still untied. There was a round, beautifully decorated sporran in the middle of his waist, held still with a metal chain that rested over the kilt. The kilt itself had a green background with red and yellow stripes, the hem just above his knee caps. His white socks, below his knees, were neatly folded over with black, vertical stripes of fabric on the side of his calves, and she could see something tucked neatly on the inside of the sock on his right leg. His black shoes looked more like thick ballerina slippers with laces that were wound three times up his calves. 

Gayle was dumbfounded, looking him up and down, her mouth slowly gaping open. Her ears rang loudly, her heart started to pound before it felt like it thudded to the floor in front of her. Oh, my god! she thought and forced herself to breathe, swallowing the imaginary brick that lodged itself in the back of her throat.

No, she wasn't attracted to him the first time she met him, mainly because he was such a pompous, arrogant butt-head, but that was almost two months prior. Now, however, she saw Mr. Hamish Middle-Name-Unknown McDougal in a whole new light.

He stared at her just as dumbstruck, a smile slowly growing on his lips. "Gayle, your face."

She smirked. "Um, yeah? I've had it with me all my life, though -"

"You're... stunning." 

She smiled self-consciously. "Thanks. I thought I'd go for the 'formal' look." Twirling around, basically showcasing the robe she still wore, she asked, "What d'ya think?"

"I'd much prefer you nekkid with pumps." He smirked.

"Ha, ha," she retorted, praying he was just being a man and not serious. "It'll only take me a second to dress." She put her hands on her hips as she looked at his waist. "Sir, I know you like your whisky, but do you really have to wear a flask? I mean, they'll be serving -"

"For godssake, woman! It's a sporran. Have you never seen a dress kilt before?"

"No Sir. They're not really the fashion in America, although, as hot as..." There was nothing she could do to hide her blushing cheeks at the 'h' word. "You look more than handsome, Sir."

That time, even Hamish's cheeks broke out in a red rash. "Well, thank you, Gayle. This is a traditional Scottish dress kilt. The jacket is the typical Prince Charles jacket, and the tartan colors and patterns represent my family's clan. The brogues were scuffed a bit, but I was able to polish them off," he said, showing his feet off.

"What's in your right sock?" she asked, now standing beside him.

He pulled it out and showed her the small sword, the blade sheathed in black felt with a shiny silver design at the end of the handle. "This was my grandfather's. It's a skean duh, strictly ceremonial but a real dagger. The thistle here, in silver, is on our family crest, which matches the kilt pin. Now, all I have to do is this blasted tie. I spent ten minutes on it before I gave up. I knew I should have worn the clip-on neck tie."

"Then you'd look like Pee Wee Herman in a kilt, and you'd embarrass the hell out of me! I can do your tie for you."

"How did you learn?"

"Grampy, Mom's dad taught me."

"Yes."

Looking around the room, Gayle asked, "Can you take the stool to the bathroom so I can see in the mirror?"

A minute later, standing behind him in front of the mirror, she put her arms around his neck and grasping the tie began to tie it. "It's been a while since I've done this, though. Grampy made me do it for two hours until I got it right. I was eight!" She chuckled at the memory.

Looking at her reflection, he replied, "You're doing a splendid job. I'm impressed."

She stopped briefly and looked back at him. For the first time even she couldn't deny they did indeed look good together. 

Finally, she finished all she could do from that perspective. "Okay, Sir. Please turn around."

After she fiddled with the final adjustment of the tie, he swiftly pulled open her robe, put his hands on her hips and kissed the tops of each breast. She giggled as his neatly trimmed beard tickled her. 

"Hmm," he said as he looked at her. "I don't recall making you giggle last night."

Grinning, she replied, "Last night you weren't as sexy and dressed all fancy-schmancy as you are now."

"Go on and get dressed." As she walked toward the bedroom door, he asked, "Wait. You said Kelsey was waiting in the bathroom?!"

"Yes Sir. She -"

He scowled at her and barked, "Is that the way you treat my guests, Ms. Boyce?"

The mood instantly changed, and she wanted to crawl under the bed. "Of course not, Sir! She didn't want to be in the way. She said Jessie's coming to pick her up, and she wants pictures before we leave."

He exhaled sharply. "Hell. I loathe having my picture taken. I'll talk to her. Now scoot." 

Gayle stared at him like his tie had turned into a snake, and it was coming after her.

Seeing her reaction, he realized he had inadvertently hurt her feelings. "It would be nice, I suppose." 

Her eyes lit up. "Sir, I would like a reminder of us... dressed up... and looking hot... together."

A smile slowly spread on his lips. "At least one of us will be," he noted seriously. 

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "You haven't even let me put my dress on yet!"

"Oh, hush, I wasn't talking about you. I won't tell you thrice to get dressed."

"Thrice? Is that like two and a half?"

Narrowing his eyes at her, she knew she pushed him a little too far. "Yes Sir. I'll hurry." 

Closing her bedroom door, she removed the robe and took her dress from the armoire. Then she heard a knock on a door in the hallway. "Mrs. Fleming? I apologize for my... for Gayle's rudeness. Please, when you are done in there, come down and make yourself comfortable in the front drawing room while you wait for your mother."

Gayle was furious at him for making her sound disrespectful and ungrateful. Opening her door, she saw Hamish about to descend the stairs. Defending herself, she said, controlling her tone, "Sir, it was her idea."

Expecting a threatening glare when he turned to look at her, she was surprised to see his eyes light. "That's what she said. It's quite fine." A wicked grin spread over his lips. "Now that's the way I like to see you wear," he said, his voice deep and sultry.

"Huh?" Only then did she remember she was standing in the doorway fully naked - and it felt completely natural, not one ounce of insecurity or shyness. She sighed in relief from him not being angry. "I meant to ask you earlier. I got a hundred pound note from the bank Wednesday. Do you think that'll be enough?"

"Love, it's more than adequate. Anything will be greatly appreciated. I've got something to get... to do in my library, and I'll meet you and Kelsey in the room. Don't forget to take the starters. Jack and his wife, Lily should be here shortly. Don't make them wait in the pantry." 

She was about to tell him off until she saw him smile. "I was thinking of the hall closet, actually. I'll make sure -"

"One," he interrupted, giving her a very harsh glare, all playfulness gone from his voice and face.

Her head flew back. Oh, my god! He hasn't counted off since... "Yes, Sir. Don't worry. Should I come get you when they arrive?"

"Yes," he answered then headed downstairs.

Fifteen minutes later...

In the kitchen, she was filling a platter with various cheeses and crackers as well as bite-sized sandwiches that Jessie made when a growl came from the doorway. Looking up from the dining table, she saw Hamish standing like a statue, not sure if he was even breathing. His face was frozen, his eyes locked onto her, and he scrutinized her like prey.

Gayle's floor-length black skirt had a slit up her left leg that closed on her upper thigh, yet was by no means slutty or threatened to show off her pantiless crotch. The bodice was a low-cut V-neck of black mesh embellished with sparkling multi-colored crystals in the shape of a butterfly at the waist, held up with thin straps. In the back, the tips of the wings rested just under her arms, leaving the majority of her delicate and dainty back exposed. 

"Ms. Boyce, come here," he commanded, his voice raw.

"Sir? I thought you were in your -"

"Come. Here. Now."

Apologizing, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and took a few steps closer to him before he told her to stop. Then she understood that he wasn't angry. All he wanted was to get a better look at her. She had been so worried about getting his approval that now that she got it, and without a single word, her cheeks burned as never before, and she grew self-conscious. She found it very difficult to breathe, so she fisted her hands and simply held her breath waiting for his next instruction.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 19



"Turn around."

Silently thanking Olivia for providing the dress and to Jessie for predicting Hamish would drool over her, she took a deep breath and started a slow spin. When her back was to him, he ordered her to stand still as he examined his favorite part of a woman, the rear view. 

It felt like forever until she felt his huge, soft hands brush against her shoulder blades to the small of her back, and only then did she let out a heavy breath. She felt the cold metal of the sporran against her warm, flushed skin.

"My god, Gayle. You are absolutely fucking exquisite," he whispered into her ear, causing the dreaded goose flesh to expand from her neck to chest.

He then placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around gently. Twirling the curl of her hair through his fingers, she smiled nervously. "Do you think it's too much? I know it's a formal affair, but -"

"No, Gayle, you will not fit in. It's all the other women that will not even come close."

No one had ever paid her such a genuine compliment. "That's nice of you to say, Sir. I have to admit I feel really... beautiful, better than my prom, which really sucked 'cuz I drank a bottle of Zinfindel and made a fool out of myself when I -"

"You talk entirely too much," he snapped. 

Abruptly, he threw his arm around her waist, tugged her to him planted a toe-curling, cat-meowing, tongue-wagging, awe-inspiring kiss on her lips. She was taken by such surprise that her hands flew to his chest to push him away... until she felt his soft lips fused with hers. The heat generated between the two in two seconds flat, and they both lost their breath.

A tinge of panic struck her when the thought of Kelsey possibly coming in made her pull back... but he just kissed her harder and ran his hands up her back, his fingernails scraping up to the nape of her neck, though not hard to leave any marks.

"Hmmph, phir." she finally managed to mumble against his lips. "Kelsey."

"Fuck!" he sighed, breaking away. "I'm not happy about this. You may still be mad with me, but how about a quick shag in the pantry?"

"Um, Sir? I don't want my hair all messed -"

He covered her lips with his fingertips. "I don't do quickies anyway, Ms. Boyce. I'd much prefer to have an hour, or two hours, or three..."

"Four hours?" she challenged, straightening his tie. "How about five?"

"Oh, lass! You don't know who you're dealing with. Give me 48 hours, room service and a bottle of whisky, and I promise you that you will walk out of the room a changed woman."

"If not changed, then I'll be limping in pain." She chuckled. "And if that's the case, you should maybe speak with Jack about prescribing you some Viagra." 

"Ms. Boyce, did you forget your place?" he asked, his voice authoritative but not angry.

Gayle didn't want to stop the fun bantering, even though she was a little shocked at his response. "No Sir. I'm standing right here." 

Then he grew very irritated "Two."

"I was just joking. I'll... behave myself."

"Hmm, we'll see about that." Reaching under the waist of his kilt, he pulled out the smallest jewelry box and handed it to her. "Those are to replace those dreadful earrings you are wearing."

Giving him an astonished glare, she exclaimed, "Sir! You just ruined it for me! But you didn't have to get me earrings." 

"Just hush and open it."

"Alright, alright." When she saw the diamond studs, she gushed over them. "Oh! They're beautiful and perfect!" Setting the box on the island, she took each out and put them on. "How do they look?" 

He shrugged his shoulders. "They're earrings."

Getting on her tip toes, she kissed his cheek then wiped her lipstick off of him. "Thank you, Sir."

"I'm not done yet. Give me your wrist."

She presented her hand as he pulled out the long, narrow box also kept under the kilt waistband. "Oh, goody!" Grabbing the waistband of his kilt, she pulled it forward and peered down into it. "What else are you hiding down here?!"

Trying not to laugh, he replied, "That is for later, if you behave yourself like you say you will."

"Yes Sir! I'll behave myself, Sir! I promise, Sir!"

He shook his head. "I think I'm going to have to purchase a gag for that mouth of yours," he threatened.

Her eyes flew open, then she twisted a forefinger and thumb over her lips and chucked her hand over the shoulder.

"Hallelujah! Silence! Finally!" Bessie barked excitedly as she trotted into the kitchen. "See? Even Bessie is happy! Now close your eyes." Once she did, he pulled out the bracelet, wrapped it around her wrist and snapped it closed. "Open."

Looking directly at her wrist, her mouth flung open as she admired the seven tiny, elegant diamond butterflies adorning the bracelet, each carrying a small pearl on each of their backs.

"Oh, Hamish," she breathed. Looking up at him, she asked, "How did you know..." 

"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice quietly trembling.

"Oh, Hamish," she repeated and promptly flung her arms around his neck. "You have no idea how much I like it. Thank you. Thank you." Pulling back, she asked, "How did you know about the butterflies? Did you peek at my dress?"

"Shyte! Why the hell didn't I think of that?!" Then he laughed. "Jessie picked it out because, of course, she knew what your dress looked like."

"It doesn't matter," she said as she stepped back, her hand caressing the bracelet. "It really completes the outfit." She paused. "But Sir, this must have cost a fortune."

"Actually, it's on loan, and if you lose it, you must work for me for the next thirty years to reimburse me."

In her mind, thirty years working for Mr. Hamish McDougal didn't sound all that bad, and with the perks, she could possibly work for forty. 

Breaking her train of thought, Bessie barked and raced out into the hall. "That's probably Jack and Lilian. Finish up the tray and bring it out to us."

When reality finally hit her, she replied, "Yes Sir. And thanks... for everything."

A few minutes later, Gayle entered the drawing room carefully carrying the platter and saw Jack and his wife sitting on the couch, each holding a glass. 

"Gayle!" Kelsey screamed as she approached her and took the platter from her hands. "Ah swear, if ye trip an' faa an' gie aw grottie. Ah will kill ye!"

Gayle didn't know what grottie was, but she had a pretty good idea. "I... um, thanks, Kelsey."

"Hi, Gayle. I'm Lily. It's a pleasure to meet you!" the woman said as she went to Gayle, extending her hand. "Jack told me you were pretty, but that doesn't even come close. You are gorgeous! And that dress! Wow." 

Lily was a beautiful woman - tall and slender but with an hour-glass figure, her long, curly blonde hair seemed to go on forever. Her simple full-length, chiffon gown flowed gracefully about her, the light burgundy accentuating her light complexion, giving her face a rosy, natural glow. 

Shaking hands, Gayle replied, "It's nice to meet you, too. It's kind of you to say, but I feel like I'm going to change into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight."

"I'm sure Hamish would be happy to bring back your glass slippers." Jack teased.

Gayle was horrified into silence. As far as she knew, Jack only knew she was Hamish's maid, not his submissive or lover, if that was the word for it. There was no way in hell she was ever going to ask Hamish what they talk about.

"Drinks! Who wants drinks?" Hamish nearly screamed. 

"Don't mind him," Jack said as he gave Gayle a small, friendly hug. "He hates these galas, but we men have to show off our girls every once in a while."

"Jack Angus Jenkins!" Lily berated her husband.

"Sorry, dear. Women, we love to show off our women," he corrected then gave his wife a peck on her cheek. "I love you, dear."

"Stuff it," she snipped but then chuckled. "Don't mind the boys, Gayle. When they get together it's like a frat party."

"Whisky." Gayle finally found her voice. "I know Hamish wants Whisky. What would everyone else like?"

Surprisingly enough, she was fine with playing hostess; at least all of the attention was off of her for a change. But that didn't last long when Jessie came by to pick up Kelsey.

"Hoo coods ye aw start skitin' withit me?!" she announced as she came into the room from the kitchen. 

After they each had a drink and chatted for a bit - wine for the ladies and whisky for the men... and Jessie - Lily said it was getting late and that they'd best be taking pictures and be on their way. With Hamish grumbling, they went to the stairs in the hallway and Jessie took a few pictures of the four and one of just Gayle and Kelsey. Then Jessie insisted they get a picture of just Hamish and Gayle. This time, however, Hamish did no grumbling at all. He, too, wanted a picture to remember her when she went back home.

Gayle found her heart beating surprisingly fast as she got on the second to last step while Hamish stood on the last; only a few inches separated their heights. They both looked at the other, like silently asking, 'How exactly do we do this?'

"Och, fur pete's sake! At leest pretend ye tois ken each other!" Jessie fussed at them.

Hamish and Gayle laughed nervously, their bodies then drawn together like a magnet, their eyes locked. Intuitively, he put his arm around the small of her back while she put her hand in his other, as if there was a sudden unique connection between them. Then there was the click of the camera. 

"Bloody hell, mate! We weren't -" Hamish abruptly stopped when he saw the four whispering and nodding as they looked at the picture.

"Alright, that's enough," Hamish declared as he took Gayle's hand and helped her down. Again, their eyes locked, and there was another click. "What is so damned fascinating with -"

As Hamish and Gayle reached the group, Jessie said, "Pipe doon, bairn. Jack, shaw them th' picture."

Pulling it up, the two looked at their picture, and for Gayle, the air was sucked out of the room. She never realized how much power and emotion she could give off with just one glance. For Hamish, he knew he was in some deep shit. For anyone who knew Hamish well enough, they would instantly see the attraction he had for Gayle.

"Enough already," Hamish complained. "Mate, if you end up snapping photos all night I'll -"

"You'll do nothing," Jack replied.

Hamish and Jack bid Kelsey and Jessie farewell outside while the women took one last trip to the bathroom to check out their make-up and make sure there wasn't too much cleavage showing, not that either of them minded. While Gayle still couldn't get the image of the mysterious link between her and Hamish, she repeated over and over there was nothing between them. But there was no denying the cursed picture. 

In the foyer, Gayle draped the shawl over her shoulders and the ladies met the men outside. The first thing she noticed was the sun just setting behind the tops of the trees. The second thing she saw was the transportation. Her mouth dropped at seeing the long, white limo, the chauffer standing by the opened door. 

"Hamish!" Gayle gushed. 

"No worries, lass," Jack said. "This was our idea." Lily promptly elbowed his side. "Her idea. Sorry, dear."

Gayle had to stop herself from giggling at the two's playful humor. 

"Charlie, would you mind taking a few pictures?" Jack asked.

"Oi wud be 'appy ter, Dr. Jenkins," Charlie replied.

Gayle was so enthralled with his heavy Irish accent that she barely heard Hamish tell her to give him her camera.

When she regained her senses and a few pictures were snapped, Lily slid into the limo first, followed by Gayle and the two men. Gayle looked around in awe at the white leather bucket seats, two facing forward and four facing the sides of the vehicle; a small bar set with glasses and a few bottles of liquor; a small refrigerator underneath the small sink and soft lighting from lights in the ceiling and built into the small cabinets. The paneling between the darkened windows was also white, and the floor was a pine hardwood.

"Oh, my god! This is amazing!" Gayle said giddily as she looked up at the closed sun roof.

"Yes, it is," Lily told her. "My uncle owns the limousine rental service, and we use this occasionally. Jack, why don't you get our guests something to drink?"

"Just wine, please," Gayle said. 

"What about a Kahlua and cream, Gayle?" Hamish egged her on, his eyebrows wagging.

"No, that wouldn't be a good idea at all. I can't mix alcohol."

Hamish tilted his head in contemplation but gave in. "Alright. I just remembered you saying you liked them."

She looked over his face, knowing instantly what he was doing. He wanted her horny. Knowing herself, and the fact that moisture had already built up in her crotch, a White Russian wouldn't be necessary. 

Time seemed to fly by as the men reminisced with stories of their younger days, which really wasn't all that long ago. There were fights over girls, bets on their favorite football teams, nights of drinking, streaking, fights over girls. To Gayle, the two were as close as brothers. 

Soon, the car took a sharp turn to the left, and the darkened divider between the cab and back of the limo lowered. Charlie announced, "We're at de gatehouse. Please finish up yisser drinks."

Even though his accent was thick, she understood clearly what he said. She grew excited, yet butterflies flittered in her stomach, and it wasn't the crystal from her dress. You can do this. You can do this. She sighed heavily, and Hamish reached over and gripped her hand, squeezing it slightly, smiling at her. She smiled back, the butterflies instantly flew away. 

The ride to the house was fairly quick, and Gayle grumbled that she couldn't see anything, but she could hear music. "Why don't they have windows in this thing?!"

"Ah, they chucker," Charlie said, being the divider was still down.

Gayle didn't understand him that time, but the windows slowly rolled down to reveal a screen... and bagpipes with drums flowed into the vehicle. Her eyes lit up, and she turned to peer out the window. "Oh, my god! I hear bagpipes."

"Yes, Ms. Boyce," Hamish replied amused. "You'll find bagpipes all over Scotland."

The paved driveway curved around a bend that exposed a beautiful castle, every inch of it lit with flood lights. Though it was fairly small, it was no less extravagant. The white painted-brick tower to the left had several paned windows, every one of them crooked with age and settling over the centuries. The front was a light brick with dormer windows on the second floor and larger paned, floor-to-ceiling windows on the first floor. The structure was fairly flat but had two small towers, and a French door with steps led to a neatly manicured lawn.

"This is Craigcrook Castle, built in 1542 by William Adamson. The owners and hosts are Alistair and Maureen Graham," Lily informed Gayle. "It's been in Maureen's family since the early 1600s, when her ancestor, Ophelia Adamson married Donnchad Graham. There's quite a list of literary greats that have visited, including Charles Dickens and Hans Christian Anderson."

"Really? That's fascinating," Gayle said.

"It's on the market right now for only six million pounds," Jack added. 

Gayle was flabbergasted. "Only six million?! That's what, fifteen million dollars?"

"No, about ten," Hamish said.

Looking at her boss and smiling innocently, she asked, "Think I can get a raise?"

"Most certainly not!" he declared.

Shrugging her shoulders, she chuckled. "Well, I tried."

Finishing their drinks, the vehicle stopped a few times to allow other limos and luxury cars pass them, and they finally pulled up to the back of the castle. Gayle sat waiting for another to make the first move to exit, and no one did until the door was opened by Charlie. 

"Ladies first," Jack said. When Hamish stood, though crouched, and stepped to the door, Jack protested. "No, haud on baw heid."

Gayle tried not to laugh and asked, "What the heck does baw mean?"

"He called me a thickhead," Hamish replied.

Again, she tried not to laugh because it was so very true.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jackie, boy," Hamish said. "Did you want to go first, ye ole' hen?"

Everyone had a good laugh then Lily and Gayle stepped out with the men behind them. Gayle turned to the sound of the bagpipes and drums and saw a small group of musicians. Gravitating toward them, she was enthralled by the fiddler, flutist, violinist, accordion player and the man banging on the Bodhran with a small club-like stick.

On a wooden platform were two couples dancing - two men, both in full kilt outfits dancing with their female partners, who were wearing Celtic dresses. They looked like they were having fun, all the while being graceful as they skipped and kicked their feet. Then it dawned on her that the dance reminded her of square dancing, which, she supposed, evolved when the Scots brought the Celtic dance over, and it changed over the generations. She couldn't help not tapping her foot to the rhythm.

Feeling a hand on her elbow, she looked up at Hamish, who was gazing at her with the oddest look. Because there wasn't anyone close to them, she whispered, "Sir? Is something wrong?"

He smiled. "No. I adore seeing your face light up when you see something new."

"Oh. You've been seeing that a lot from me, then."

"True. And I hope to see many more, Gayle. You have a delightful smile."

"Excuse me, you two," Lily interrupted them, handing them two champagne flutes. "Care for some champagne?"

Neither one of them liked the expression on Lily's face. It was almost like she had this amazing secret but she wasn't going to let them in on it.

"Lily? Are you trying to get me drunk?" Gayle asked, although she took the glass, as did Hamish.

"Yes, she is," Hamish answered for her.

"Alright, you guys. We should be heading on inside," Jack said as he joined them.

"Right. It is getting chilly now that the sun's going down," Lily commented. 

Turning around, Gayle say the amazing view of the sun setting over a nearby village, some ocean then another island. The sky was a bright orange-yellow with wisps of pink and orange surrounding the orb.

"I would love to have a view like this from our backyard," Gayle said then followed the group up the steps. 

Gayle's heart was pounding with nerves as they stepped into the foyer. There were people milling about and chatting, the music from outside seeping into the room. All of the men wore formal dress kilts - though no one looked hotter than Hamish - and the women were mostly in full-length cocktail dresses, all looking like they were going to the Oscars. 

The men, on the other hand, were much more impressive in their Military kilts. The most striking was the man wearing a more formal black jacket than the Prince Charles one, which was buttoned to the collarbone with large, gold buttons. Over each shoulder, under gold-colored, braided rope on his broad shoulders were a red and white thick sash that cross-crossed over his chest, nestled under a thick, white belt. The lapel of the jacket showed off several metal medallions of yellow, blue and white. At his waist hung a Sporran, much fancier than the one Hamish wore. On the top was a thin strip of light brown fur, and on either side hung white fur cascading down to the hem of the green and white kilt; it almost looked like an old man's mustache. He was one of only a few that wore hats, which was black velvet, two more medals on either side, and a six-inch tail of black fur standing tall, wrapped at the base with white fabric. 

Gayle practically jumped when she heard, "Hamish McDougal!" She turned toward the voice as the man approached them, a woman by his side. "Welcome! Jack and Lily - always good to see you... well, not you, Doc." After shaking hands and giving Lily a quick kiss, he turned to Gayle. "And who might this enchanting creature be?"




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 19



Hamish stood tall and proud, smiling broadly. "This is Gayle Boyce, Alistair, Maureen. She's working for me the next few months keeping my home tidy, and she's been doing such a fabulous job I thought I'd give her a night off."

"Gayle," Maureen said, giving her a kiss on her cheek. "Wonderful to meet you."

Gayle was a little taken aback at Maureen's friendliness, considering she was just Hamish's maid. Just Hamish's maid? She was appalled at her own thoughts. 

"Thank you," Gayle replied, trying to keep her anxious voice calm. "Your... home is beautiful." She felt a tinge stupidity, not used to calling someone's home a castle, or manor, even. "Lily told me the history of the estate. Most Americans can't even imagine having such an historical history to their home."

Jack and Hamish had been talking, which got Maureen's attention, so Gayle was left to look around. The front reception room to the right was all light pine wood - the walls, ceiling, floor, even the eight-foot long bay window frame and built-in bookshelves, but a delicate crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room. It was octagonal with a huge fireplace, and the blue and tan carpet completed the comfortable, want-to-spend-all-day-in-here feeling. There were four tables set up along the walls with someone standing behind each, but there were people standing in front of the tables, so she couldn't see what was on them. 

"Alright," Maureen said as she handed each of them a business card with a single number on it. "You use those numbers to bid on items in the front room so they are kept private. We'll announce the winners a bit later. Also, there are drinks available in there, and the buffet is ready in the formal reception room. There are tables there and in the adjoining room. Please, help yourselves."

"Thank you, Helen. We will," Jack replied cordially.

"Ah, there are Carter and Catherine. Excuse us. We're glad you're here," Alistair said.

They had just walked away when someone called out, "Hello, mate! Fancy finding you here at this shindig," the man said as he shook hands with Hamish. The woman with him gave him a quick peck on his cheek.

When Jack and Lily excused themselves to see friends, Hamish replied, "Thomas. You're still looking scrawny. You need to get to the gym more." Hamish then looked at the woman. "You look beautiful, Helen."

"Thanks you. Always the charmer. You've not changed one bit," she said as she chuckled.

"So I've been told," he said with a small chuckle.

After Hamish made the introductions, he said to Gayle, "Thomas was my flat mate at uni. His family owns Glamis Castle in Forfar, not even an hour from home."

"Glamis Castle?!" Gayle practically screamed then lowered her voice. "I'm sorry. I've seen that on the travel channel back home. It's amazing! And the Lord playing cards with the devil - fascinating!"

Hamish said, "Gayle has studied archeology and currently volunteering at St. Athernase Church."

"Oh! Good for you!" Thomas said. "Father insisted he be a part of fundraising, so he volunteered a weekend for the silent auction. Hamish, I hope you brought your checkbook for your lovely lady to fulfill her dreams."

"I did. Do you think I could outbid others with twenty quid?" Hamish asked seriously.

"It'd better not," Thomas laughed. "Ah! There's Robert. I've been looking for him since we got here. Enjoy your evening."

When Hamish and Gayle were alone, they found a quiet corner in the foyer, where Hamish told Gayle who was who, though she wouldn't remember a single name. What she would remember, and she was astonished to see, was there were quite a few men and women with either a prosthetic leg or arm, and a woman had horrible burn scars on the side of her face that extended down her neck to her arm. Regardless, the confidence and beauty she exuded was overwhelming. 

The same woman suddenly looked in Gayle's direction, and a smile slowly came over her lips as her eyes skirted from Gayle to Hamish. Then Gayle noticed several other people taking long, scrutinizing glances at them, causing her to take hold of his jacket and try to hide behind him. 

He leaned down, his lips just by her ear. "No, you don't," he chastised her, whispering so no one could hear them. "You will stand tall and proud, little one."

"Professor 'iggins, 're ya tryin' ter teach me ter be a proper lydy?" she asked, her voice also low, doing her best to sound like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady.

"Aye, Elizeur Doolittle. 'n if theur dooant, ahl av ta pay Jack ten quid, 'n ah'm known for bein eur cheap clart noggin." 

"Um, huh?"

He laughed. "I'll make a deal with you: You don't ever use our accent again, and I won't use the cockney accent."

"Deal!" she squeaked then laughed.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, seeing her champagne was gone.

"Yes Sir. May I get some wine, similar to what you ordered for me at dinner last night?"

"Of course."

Putting his hand in the small of her back, he led her into the room she had checked out, but from the foyer she couldn't see the bar to the left. "Go ahead and see what is up for auction. I'll be right back."

Gayle said hello to the people at the tables and looked over the sheets of paper with the items available. There was a day spa of the full-service treatments; a round of golf at St. Andrews, including lunch; three days, two nights at the Waldorf Astoria in Edinburgh; and other various treats and amenities, along with the weekend at Glamis Castle.

"Here you are," Hamish said as he handed her a glass of wine. 

"Thanks. I guess I can forget about bidding on the Glamis weekend. The opening bid is 5,000 pounds! And I thought I could get it for a measly hundred." She laughed.

Hamish didn't laugh. "Ms. Boyce, every bit goes to helping the soldiers. You just stop, right now."

She nodded. "Yes Sir. You're right. Where do I give my money to, by the way?"

"Oh, right this way."

Once they made their donation, Hamish proudly introduced Gayle to everyone he knew. Jack and Lily entered the room, and Gayle lost track of Hamish after Lily said, "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving. Care to get something to eat?"

Now that Gayle had gained her confidence, her appetite returned with it. She nodded as Hamish returned and led her back into the hallway to the other reception room, her nose seemingly guiding her. As they entered, she looked around at the dark oak-wood floor and wall paneling, the top half painted a dark amber; white-painted ceiling with intricate pattern; two huge dormer windows with fireplace; and three long wooden tables sitting eight diners each. There were two buffet tables set along one wall, and the smell made her mouth water. The two small sandwich squares back at Hamish's castle just wasn't enough.

After they filled their plates, Jack suggested they go into the adjoining room. Walking through the doorway, Gayle couldn't help but notice the two beautiful stained-glass double-doors. The top halves were of a dark yellow flower with a light yellow border, and the bottom were of women, one in a blue, flowing dress with a yellow sash and carrying a lit torch, the other in a yellow dress with a blue sash holding a lamb in her arms.

The room itself had white painted walls with criss-cross crown molding in squared patterns, and the ceiling, also white, had multiple star designs. There was plenty of seating with ten round tables and three tables for four were placed in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows with full-length white curtains, held back with sashes. 

Luckily, one of those tables was vacant, and Lily said, "Jack, let's get a table by the window."

As they approached it, Jack set his plate on the table and pulled out a chair for his wife. 

After she sat down, Jack tried to pull out another for Gayle, but Hamish set his plate down and pulled out the adjacent chair. "I shall be gallant to my own woman, mate!" he snapped, then looked at Gayle sheep-faced, his usually already ruddy cheeks brightening further.

Gayle stood frozen for a split second. Trying to lighten the mood, after she sat down, she said, "Thank you for your gallantness."

Clearing his throat, Hamish offered to get their drinks. Hurrying to the room with the auctioning items, he stepped to the table and cursed when he saw another bid of 6,500 pounds. Writing down a higher number, convinced no one would dare bid more, he got their drinks and returned to the table.

They ate to their heart's content, enjoying pleasant conversation and flowing drinks, the second round Jack insisted he get. The musicians had then come in from outside because a soft, beautiful tune wafted into the room, without the persistently loud bagpipe, which was good considering the enclosed space would have chiseled holes into everyone's ear drums.

After Jack told Gayle about Hamish's younger teenage girl-chasing, beer drinking, late night escapades, Gayle asked Lily, "How do you put up with these two?" 

"Oh, I don't. I simply allow Jack to play as much golf as he wants to sow his wild roots," she replied.

Leaning over toward Gayle, Hamish whispered loud enough to be overheard, "We also go to gentleman's clubs, but do not tell Lily. She'll never let Jack out again."

"You're right, Hamish! And I already knew," Lily teased.

"Oh, shyte, Hammy boy! It's been nice knowing you," Jack joked.

"I think we all deserve another drink, don't you?" Hamish asked as he stood.

Gayle desperately wanted to tell him that she'd already had her limit, but she didn't want to embarrass him in front of his friends.

So, after they cleared their plates and had dessert, Alistair made an announcement that the buffet was closing and to finish up their meals then join him and Maureen outside. Hamish carefully pulled Gayle's chair out, and she slowly stood. 

"Whoah," she mumbled then put her hand on his shoulder. Jack and Lily were still too close to tell Hamish she didn't want another drink, so again she didn't say anything.

Several minutes later, everyone was standing on the drive in the darkness chatting with one another when Jack left to get another round of drinks. Hamish quickly whispered something to Jack, but she couldn't hear what.

When Jack returned, Gayle took the glass that he'd handed her and saw that it was a different vintage wine by the color, and the face it was fizzy. When Jack and Lily had their backs to them, she told Hamish quietly, "Sir, this is my last glass, okay? One more and I'll be on the floor."

"I noticed. That's why Jack brought you sparkling water."

Gayle smiled appreciatively. "Thank you. So, do you know why we're out here?"

"No, but I think we've just been kicked out." He chuckled. "How did you like dinner?"

"Everything was delicious. And I loved the chocolate mousse."

"Hamish! Is that you?!" a woman practically screamed as she approached him. She threw his arms around his neck and hugged him longer than she should have - as far as Gayle was concerned. "I haven't seen you in ages."

When she pulled away, Hamish asked, "How are you, Maisy?"

Gayle watched with obvious envy, but detected coldness in his voice.

"I'm fine. You look fantastic," she said, keeping her arm around his back. 

"As do you. Maisy, this is -" Hamish started, looking at Gayle. 

"Yeah. Hi," Maisy said curtly then slipped her arm around his and tugged him away. There was only a little bit of hesitation on his part, but Gayle was growing furious. He should have objected. You rude bitch! He's my date, you ho.

Gayle looked around nervously, feeling like she'd just been bitch slapped. Luckily, Jack and Lily didn't catch the scene, so she sauntered back inside to the bar for another glass of wine. 

Fuck it. If I'm going to survive the night, I think I deserve to get drunk.

Maureen had been checking out the rooms to make sure no one was left inside. When she asked Gayle if anything was wrong, she prayed the hostess didn't see the moisture built up in her eyes. She said she was fine, and asked where the restroom was.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, she stared at herself in front of the mirror, willing the tears back for fear the make-up would run and ruin her face. She didn't have anything to worry about, though, because she heard a laugh echo back at her. It was her own. 

Get a hold of yourself, dumb ass! He's not yours. He never will be.

Taking several deep breaths and quickly emptying her wine glass, she opened the door and ran right into Hamish. "OH! I'm sorry, Sir!"

"Are you alright?" he asked concerned, then saw the empty glass in her hand. "Maureen said you had gotten another glass of wine and asked for the loo."

"Yes Sir. I'm fine. I just needed to potty."

His gaze went from one of her eyes to the other then back again. His eyebrows furrowed deeply. "Gayle? Is this about Maisy?" 

She didn't answer. 

Shaking his head, he cupped her face in his hands and ran his thumbs over her chin. "Ms. Boyce, what is it you told me on more than one occasion?"

She tilted her head slightly. "I don't understand, Sir."

He smiled. "I'm not going home with her. I'm going home with you, just as I want to."

If she hadn't cried before, she almost did then. "Yes Sir. I was out of line."

"No, you weren't," he said promptly. "She was. If you had stayed, I would have been back in two minutes. That's all it took for me to excuse myself and tell her I had to get back to my date."

She slowly smiled. "Oh."

He took his hands away and took her hand. "Right. Oh. Now put on that jovial smile of yours and make me look good."

As they walked through the foyer, she could see the bustle of movement in the larger reception room. Some tables were stacked in one corner, and several men were clearing the rest. Then she saw the podium at the far end of the room and understood why they all were sent outside.

"Is everything alright?" Lily asked, also concerned.

"Oh, yes," Gayle replied. "I just had to..."

Suddenly, there were loud explosions off in the distance high above them, and as Gayle turned, among the ooohs and ahhhs of the crowd, fireworks lit the sky. Her mood instantly lifted for the next fifteen minutes as the reds, greens and whites filled the sky, the boisterous booms and pops making her feel like a kid again.

By the time the finale arrived, Gayle wore a huge smile, and Hamish hadn't watched the pyrotechnics from the start. He was too busy watching Gayle's expressions. 

"Wow!" she exclaimed when she finally looked at Hamish. He had never looked at her like that before, and something stirred deep within her. "That was awesome!"

Before he could reply, Alistair made another broadcast for everyone to go inside and get another drink if they so wished.

Several minutes later, all were gathered in the largest reception room facing the podium. Beside it were several chairs, where men and women were seated, all wearing the uniform from their branch of service. 

Alistair and Maureen both made a brief speech thanking them for coming, then introduced the soldiers, who each told a sincere, incredibly heartfelt story of the tribulations of war or struggles they endured when they came home and the painful rehabilitation.

Gayle was so touched by their stories that again she had to stop herself from crying, and she only gained control of herself when Hamish grabbed her hand and gave it a tight, reassuring squeeze.

"Now," Maureen said as she approached the podium, placing a piece of paper on it. "Because of your generosity and kindness, the funds raised from this evening has exceeded our expectations with just over 126,000 pounds."

The room erupted in wild applause.

"Now, for the silent auction bids." 

She called out the winners of the offered items by their numbers Maureen handed out when they first arrived, and they each collected an envelope with the details, Gayle assumed. 

"For the last item, it seems there were two of you that fought valiantly to be the highest bidder for the weekend at Glamis Castle."

When she mentioned Glamis Castle, Hamish instantly tensed. What's up with that? Gayle wondered.

"With a bid of 9,250 pounds, the winning number is 33."

Hamish walked toward the podium, receiving several slaps on the back from others. When Hamish returned, he stood directly in front of Gayle and handed her the envelope. She didn't take it but simply stared at him. 

"Love," he said quietly, "You seemed so interested in the castle, I thought... I've been bidding on this all night against some wanker, who I would love to take outside and take a chib at."

"Er, mate, that would be me," Jack volunteered.

"What? You've been bidding on this? Why the fuck..." He wasn't just angry, he was incensed.

"Well, Thomas and Helen were very taken with you, Gayle," Jack explained. "They have been all over the States, as were his parents. And I know what a cheap bastard you are, Hamish and knew you wouldn't bid on it. I had every intention of giving it to you and Gayle."

Hamish's face slowly eased, and he laughed. "Did it ever cross your mind to speak with me first?"

Gayle finally relaxed, afraid the boys would have a fist fight right then and there. Luckily, Lily intervened. "You two, it doesn't matter. The monies are going to help our soldiers, and Gayle gets to stay at a real haunted castle."

The four spent another hour getting caught up with their friends before Jack mentioned he and Lily had to get to bed somewhat early for his round of golf first thing in the morning.

"And once again you didn't invite me?" Hamish asked, though he was clearly teasing.

"Because I knew you would be suffering from Spondulietise, as you always do, and I just didn't want to hear it," Jack replied.

Gayle grew concerned and asked Hamish, "Oh, my god! Are you okay? You didn' tell me you have Spoondualitis!"

Everyone laughed, except for Gayle. "Oh, no, dear," Jack said to Gayle. "Spondulieitise just means talking shyte."

Only then did Gayle laugh. "I need to be sober when I'm around you two."

"No. You'd need at least three glasses of wine, two shots of whisky and brandy," Lily said then laughed. 

On the drive back to Duncanstone, Hamish's ancestral home, they each had a nightcap in the limo, which propelled Gayle over the edge to drunkenness. Hamish had to keep propping her up as she leaned against him, embroiled in a fit of laughter. 

Saying goodnight to each other, with promises of getting together more often, the limo carrying Jack and Lily drove off into the night. A light, chilly breeze washed over them, and Gayle, taking a deep breath, looked up at the sky, as if that would instantaneously make her sober.

The Super moon, huge and extremely bright, seemed as if it was only a stone's throw away from the castle. "OH!" Gayle yelled louder than she should have. "Look at tha' moooon! I didn' see it at Crackbrick."

"Hell, woman! It's Craigbrook. And I can assure you it was there, as well. I think you need to sober up a bit. Why don't I get Bessie, and we'll take a nice stroll down to the lake?" Hamish suggested.

At first her face brightened, but then she looked at her heels. "Ohhhh, Hamissshhh!" she slurred. "I don' wan'tah ruin these heels."

"I do believe I'll be carrying you anyway," he teased. "I remember seeing your trainers by the dryer. I'll get them. Think you can stand up straight 'til I get back?"

"Dowtet," she mumbled then giggled. "I'm pissst at'chu, by the way, Hamish."

Ignoring her comment, he scowled at her. "Ms. Boyce, do I have to remind you we are no longer in public?"

"No Sir. I can actuality hear a norm'l conversation without the wailing of them bagpiperers."

"You need more of a walk to sober up."

"Brillian' idear!" she screamed. "Can you bring a bottle of wine... er sumt'ing?"




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 19



"No, I will not," he replied sternly. "Stay put. Don't let the screeching bats carry you away."

As he walked toward the front door, she said, "Bats?! As'n vampira bats?! I'd love to half my neck bitt'n! Here, vamper, vamper! I got me some delicsciousous whino blood!"

Hamish shook his head as he unlocked the door... 

A few minutes later, Hamish, Gayle and Bessie walked the path to the lake. The brightness of the moon lit their way, and a light breeze had picked up, but the wine Gayle drank kept her warm enough... that and the fact that Hamish had his arm protectively around her waist.

"So, pray tell, what in the world have I done wrong this evening that you're infuriated with me?"

"Ewe didn' danssse wit' me, Sir."

"Ah. No, I didn't, and neither did anyone else."

"Bu'tha' dudn't mean we couldn't've."

"Ms. Boyce, stop talking." She remained silent as they continued walking. A minute later, he asked, "Why are you so quiet?"

She cocked her head to look up at him. "Sir, you tol' me to -"

He snickered. "Since when do you listen to me?"

"I listen to ya all the time, when you talk, Sir."

"You got me there."

Taking the last bend of the path, she ran to the shore of the lake then turned around. "Wanna go skinned dippy?"

Just as he reached her, he asked, "It depends on what skinned - oh, skinny dipping?" 

"Yep!"

"Do you know how cold that water - Brilliant idea! Ms. Boyce, undress," he ordered sternly.

Her eyes flew open. "Sir! I was joking! Are you serious?"

He tried to keep a straight face but failed when he smiled. "No. And you are never having another drink!"

She pouted playfully. "Okay, welllll, could'chu at leas' daunce with may?"

"It would be my honor, little fawn," he said as he extended his hand.

She took his hand, and he twirled her underneath his arm. Losing her footing, he drew her to him seductively. With a squeal, she put her other hand on his shoulder.

"Sir? That was a sexy move!" She giggled.

"Not really. I just didn't want you vomited all over my clean, shiny brogues."

Ignoring his comment, they danced around slowly, both in synch. A few minutes later, their arms were wrapped around the others, her head resting comfortably on his collarbone. She was calm, her body warm, her mind mellow... and her pussy tingling. She liked Hamish when he was sweet and affectionate. She wished she could see him like this more often.

Peering up at him, she asked, "Sir? Whats'yur middle name?"

"Where did that come from?"

"I was jus' thinkin' 'bout it earlier." 

"Englebert Cumberpatch," he answered honestly.

She laughed. "It is not!"

"Actually, it's Lochlainn. It means lake-land."

"Oh. That makes sense. Thanks."

He smiled. "Alright, we've danced. Come sit with me."

She nodded and followed him to the bench. Plopping down ungracefully, she mumbled, "Ugh. 'm glad the ni'ts over." 

"Why's that? Didn't you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh, I did! It's just... I was really nerv's 'bout tonight, meetin' so many people an'... But when I saw you wi... I've done admitted I'm jealous, but... Fuck!" 

He put his elbow over the back of the bench, leaned forward and cooed, "Say it, Gayle."

Shaking her head, she said, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I jus' can'."

"So, in your drunken logic, if you don't say it, you don't feel it?"

"Yeppers, exactamoondoe!"

"Ms. Boyce, I am giving you a direct order to tell me what the hell you are talking about."

Pushing herself up off the bench, she took a few steps towards the lake then turned around. Not keeping eye contact, she said, "'Cuz I dn't like wha' 'm feeling about... you, us." 

Frowning because he didn't hear her, he stood beside her. "Could you repeat that?"

"You're evil! I t'ink I'm likin' you more than I should."

"Ah, is that all?"

She was relieved he didn't seem to make it a big deal, maybe because she was as drunk as she was. Laughing nervously, she said, "Thank god this conversation didn't happen tomorrow."

"It happened, Gayle, and I'm glad you told me."

She looked up at him terrified he would say the words back. "Ignore everything I said, Sir. I'm wasted and should never had said anything."

"I will not. Come on. Let's get you into bed."

He put his arm around her waist and led her up the path, Bessie following them instead of guiding them. Gayle drew a little woozy, so she leaned against him and rested her head in the crook of his arm.

Just as they reached the house, she gained a bit of her senses. Tearing away from him, she ran after Bessie, who, at seeing the house, went barking toward it. She began to sing at the top of her voice:

"I could have danced all night! I could have danced all night! 

And still have begged for more. 

I could have spread my wings and done a thousand things..."

She spread her arms out and flapped them a few times, taking small, careful steps. She saw Hamish shake his head. "Well, I am a butterfly!"

"Oh, dear god! Would you please shut it, Eliza Doolittle," Hamish mumbled, but he watched every move she made highly absorbed.

Later that night...

Hamish and Gayle had just gotten into his bed but didn't snuggle. He had given her a nasty-tasting drink of something that he claimed would help with her hangover she'd definitely have in the morning, but it hadn't helped prevent the bed spins.

Her head might have melded into the pillow, and she might have had a little headache, but she was still horny, amazingly enough. When they first got into bed, as much as she tried to get Hamish to kiss her, touch her, even gripped his cock and ran her hand up and down the shaft, he gently prodded her on her side of the bed and told her to go to sleep. He wasn't being cruel to her but insisted she was too drunk. In a way she respected him for it, though she couldn't help being a little bit angry.

Lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, she said, "Sir? Are you awake?"

"No," he grumbled.

"I had a won'erful time tonight."

He had been lying on his side staring at her profile in the moon's rays casting on her face. "So did I, Gayle."

"I think that drink you concocted worked."

"I knew it would."

A few minutes of silence passed between them. "Gayle? Are you awake?"

The bed shook with her laughter. "Yes Sir."

"Earlier, in my library, you said I wasn't wrong. What wasn't I wrong about?"

For a split second, she was afraid she'd imagined the whole thing, and he wasn't telling her what she thought he was telling her. "The song that was playin' when I first... the lyrics... Shit a brick. Never mind."

He was quiet for far too long, which told her she didn't imagining it at all. "You caught that, eh?"

She shot him a death glare. "That was a low blow," she mumbled sleepily. "Why'd you do it?"

"I wanted to find out if you'd say it first."

She sighed then yawned long and hard. "My confession at the lake... You do realize it doesn't count."

"Oh, it counts, Ms. Boyce. And if it makes you feel any better, my feelings for you have grown since I've gotten to know you. But you still have two punishments coming to you tomorrow."

She was silent for a moment. "Shit. Good night, Sir."

"Good night, my little fawn."



Aprons For Gayle Ch. 20



AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Special thanks to MastersWench for another kick in the right direction. I can't get credit for Tuesday, as it was written by Scooter months ago. He wanted to share his expertise, giving us the wonderfully descriptive experience at Portmoak. Give him the props he deserves!! And thanks to him for editing.

We last left off with Hamish and Gayle talking about his screw up, though no forgiveness was given for him breaking her hard limit. They had a wonderful night at the charity event, where Hamish bid and won on a weekend at Glamis Castle. Most importantly, Gayle and Hamish finally ... FINALLY admitted they have feelings for each other. 

Sunday, September 22nd, 2013

"Msss. Boyyyyce."

For the past ten minutes, Hamish had been trying to wake up Gayle with a steaming cup of coffee under her nose, of course it had been steaming hot but had now cooled to a comfortable lukewarm. She never flinched, lying dead as a door nail on her stomach, her hand under her chin.

Looking at Bessie, who was settled on his side of the bed, he said, "Alright, you may now attack your dunderheed playmate." 

Slowly crawling closer to Gayle, her tail wagging, Bessie licked Gayle's hand, but still she didn't move. "I said attack, not lick her to death!" The dog just looked at her daddy like he was speaking feline. 

"Alright. You have left me no choice, little one."

Setting the mug on the nightstand, he stood by the bed, put his hands on the mattress beside her and bounced on it hard. "Ms. Boyce! You have to clean my house! It's mingin!" he shouted.

Though she didn't move an inch, she slowly opened her eyes, focused them and finally set her gaze on Hamish. "Its'ph Fataredaaaay," she muttered, her lips parting only a centimeter as she spoke.

"No. Actually, it's Sunday, and it's almost ten."

"'m not 'hungry anyway. Hobe you had dinnnnn ..."

Shaking his head, he snipped, "If you don't get up in the next ten minutes, you will be required to wash the windows ... with your tongue."

"M'kay."

He tried not to laugh, which was easy because he knew how bad she was probably feeling. So, he tried a trick Jessie would pull on him in his younger days when he'd been out drinking and in bed until early afternoon. He hadn't built a fire yet because he hadn't planned on staying in bed all day, so it was somewhat chilly in the room. Grabbing the duvet and bed sheet, he pulled them both down to her feet. 

At first she didn't object or even mumble, but soon enough she started to shiver and slowly awakened. Rolling onto her back, she was met with a slobbery canine tongue on her cheek. 

"Ah! Eck! Gross, dog! Hmmphggg, shhh! Shhhh! Bessie," she whispered, "Don't talk so loud, pooch," she grunted. Sitting up with a groan, she held her head in her hands. "Sir, I thought you said that crap you gave me wouldn't give me a hangover."

"Hmm, apparently it only works on us Scots."

"Riiight." She snickered then instantly regretted it.

"Now that you're up, join me downstairs in the kitchen. You need to eat something before you take some aspirin."

She tilted her head up and looked at him through her fingers. "Can' I just mee' a guillotine?"

"If you don't get your arse out of bed, I'll have no choice."

"Okay. Okay."

Early afternoon ...

"Aunt Shirley! Hi! How are you?!"

Gayle had just connected to her aunt Shirley in Maryland on Skype in Hamish's library. Her hangover headache was all but gone, although she still felt like she'd been through a meat grinder.

Although his library had been off limits since her arrival, since he no longer had the cameras connected to the rooms she cleaned, he had no worries whether she would accidentally find the application. However, he did keep the two cameras over the front door and the kitchen door.

"Hello, hun! You look exhausted," her aunt said.

"Yeah, hung over from the charity event. Didn't you get the pics I sent earlier?"

"Yes! I did! I have never seen you look so beautiful."

"Thanks. Actually, I'm feeling better. Hamish made this -"

"Gayle, where's Hamish? Can he hear you?" Shirley interrupted.

"No. He's out right now doing ... something. He's been kind of secretive lately. Said he's been doing a lot of research for a client of his."

"Good. I want you to tell me all about him," she said with a huge smile.

Gayle's cheeks burned red, and she knew she couldn't lie to her aunt. They'd been close since she was a child - she'd always been there for her niece through confusing and difficult homework, boys, teaching her cross stitch. She wasn't about to jeopardize their relationship when she needed her the most, but still, she remained silent.

"Gayle, honey, Catelyn told me you're his submissive, and it's -"

"She what?!" Gayle bellowed. "I'm so gonna kill her!"

"Calm down, right now. I saw the way you looked at Hamish in the picture. I've never seen anyone look at another with so much ... Are you falling for him?"

"What? No! He's my boss!" Shirley laughed, and that angered Gayle, but only because her aunt read right through her. "Oh, Shirley! I don't know!" She whined, putting her forehead in her palm. "Most days he's sweet and funny, and he is good to me, but -"

"It's perfectly natural to form a strong physical attraction to your Dom. I know I sure did before I met your Uncle Art."

Gayle wasn't sure she heard her aunt correctly and looked at the monitor. "Um, what did you say?"

"Oh, you heard me. Don't be so shocked. I'm no fuddy duddy! I'm the 'fun' aunt, remember? Sweetie, I fell in love with my only Dom my first year of college, but we just weren't meant to be together. Now, you and Hamish, on the other hand ..."

"Aunt Shirley!" she gasped. Gayle didn't know whether she was more shocked at her aunt's confession or what she insinuated.

"Now, tell me all about it."

Gayle didn't go into heavy details regarding what happened with Hamish crossing her humiliation limit, but she did admit that they had confronted what they were feeling for the other. Gayle hated the sheepish grin Shirley gave her, but she always had a way of telling her niece what she didn't want to hear. 

They spent an hour with Gayle asking questions and Shirley patiently answering them. The weight that Gayle had over her slowly evaporated, and the talk really helped set her mind at ease. With the last of the advice, she had a renewed mindset being Hamish's submissive.

"Honey, as long as you know Hamish won't hurt you, take your time in Scotland to discover yourself. Just remember, it'll be over in February. Ask yourself whether you'll be able to let him go."

"How do I do that, Aunt Shirley?" Gayle asked, finding herself backed into another corner.

Just after 5:00 p.m. ...

Hamish entered the kitchen just after four and stopped dead in his tracks when he caught a whiff of the most delicious scent he'd ever smelled in a kitchen - even from Jessie's pot roast. Setting his briefcase in the dining table's chair, Bessie burst into the room, wagging her tail and barking her hello.

"Bessie!" Gayle hollered from the hallway. "I've got to set the table before you daddy gets -" When she walked into the kitchen and saw Hamish, she said, "Hello, Sir."

As she walked in, he asked, "What smells so delicious?"

"Mom's beef brisket. I got the recipe from Aunt Shirley. I thought I'd try something ... nice for a change. I've never made it before, so I hope it's good. I've got canned soup on stand-by." She laughed nervously, embarrassed at her rambling on. 

"I'm sure it'll be fantastic. I look forward to it. Did you talk to your family?" She nodded. "How's your mum?"

"She's stable, Sir. Dad said she's got some color back in her cheeks, but her vitals keeping jumping all over the place."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she gets stabilized. Do you think it'd be possible for the facility to get an internet connection to Skype your mum?"

Her eyes widened, and it took everything she had not to start crying. "I never thought of that! You'd be okay with that, Sir?" She might not have been crying, but her voice expressed her emotion. 

"Of course I would be. Why wouldn't I allow that, if it's possible? Call them tomorrow, and keep me updated."

"Yes Sir. Thank you." She was so excited, though a bit anxious at seeing her mother after almost two months that her voice squeaked. "I will."

"And how are you feeling now?"

"My head is much better, Sir. Thanks."

"Good. Come here," he ordered.

Remembering what her aunt had told her, she immediately went to him, got on her knees, clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head. 

Alright, Mr. McDougal. If you want a submissive, a submissive you shall have.

Smiling down on her, Hamish cupped Gayle's chin in the palm of his hand and prodded her head up. "Good girl." Bending down, he gave her a slow, passionate kiss. "Go fix my drink. Get yourself comfortable. I'll be in in a tic."

Getting as comfortable on the couch as she could with the chastity belt after placing his drink on the coffee table, she only had to wait a few minutes before Hamish walked in and sat on the couch beside her, not in his recliner.

After taking a sip, he turned his body toward her. "So, care to explain to me your greeting in the kitchen?" he asked with a grin. 

"Oh. Well, it turns out Aunt Shirley was a submissive before she met Uncle Art. She, um, gave me some pointers."

Before she could continue explaining herself, he asked quite shocked, "You told her about us?!"

"No! No Sir! It seems Catelyn did, the little brat. Shirley explained what it means to be submissive, truly submissive. A lot of things made more sense. It just felt ... natural to kneel when I saw you." 

"Oh, I see. That was a nice way to receive me, although I'd preferred you were naked."

She chuckled. "I'll remember that for next time." Taking a deep sigh, she told him, "She also told me that I had to remember you're human, and that you'll make mistakes, just as I do. You didn't hurt me physically, but I feel you betrayed me. Forgiving you for that is what I find so hard."

He nodded, looking ashamed. He was about to say something in his defense, but she put his hand on his knee. "Sir, don't. I have to trust you'll never do it again, and I want to believe that. I know deep down you're a good man, Hamish, Sir. You have to be open with me, though, if I am to fully trust in you. But I need to move forward because I made a commitment to you to be here until February, and I'm not backing out."

Bringing her hand up to his lips, he kissed the back of her hand. She blushed wildly.

"Ms. Boyce, one thing I admire about you is your strength, and the fact that you don't put up with my bullshit. By all means, talk to me about anything and everything that is bothering you. Can you do that?"

"Yes Sir, I can. Speaking of which ..." She squirmed painfully, "... Wearing this blasted belt is starting to chafe me horribly." The last few words came out with a very thick Scottish accent.

Hamish laughed. "You won't ever have to wear it again if you promise never to use our accent again."

"Am so sorry 'bout dat. It won't 'appun again, Sir!" she teased. 

He was thoughtful for a moment. "Can I trust you not to play with yourself?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Well, can I ask if ... I need to ... If I'm horny?"

He grinned. "You can ask, but it might not be granted. We'll see how it goes. Go upstairs and bring down some talcum powder. I'll get the key from my office."

A few minutes later, Gayle had pulled down her jeans, sans underwear, and lifted the t-shirt she'd been wearing. Hamish unlocked the belt and grimaced at how red and irritated the lines on her hip were. "I'm sorry about this. You should have told me sooner."

She knew he was right but remained silent as she twisted the powder open.

"No. Hand it over," he demanded. She was hesitant for a moment but did so. "You wouldn't disallow me the honor of rubbing your luscious bum, would you?" He softly caressed her cheeks where the belt hadn't rubbed her raw.

She blushed then handed the container to him. "No Sir. Of course not," she grinned.

With a gentle touch, he spread a thin film of powder over the chafed areas, so tenderly and carefully she didn't even moan from pain. As a matter of fact, his hand was so warm it was beginning to feel exceptionally good to her. 

"Hmm, thank you, Sir," she said as she turned around.

Again gently, he applied the powder to spots around her waist, but looking up at her sheepishly, he ran both hands up her stomach and cupped her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples.

This time, however, she couldn't contain a pleasurable whimper and leaned her upper torso forward. "Hmmphg, Sir. Pleease don't ... get me going."

"And why is that, Ms. Boyce?" he asked, pushing her plump breasts up, molding them seductively.

"Umm, because ... because ... I don't want to burn dinner." She managed to be reasonable as he continued to play with her nipples, but she regretted it, if she were honest with herself.

"Well, shit. Excellent point. Go on and set the table," he said as he pulled her shirt back down, mock pouting the whole while. 

A little bit later, they sat down for dinner to a full table spread: Beef brisket, mashed potatoes, green beans and spiced apples made by Jessie, which had just come into season.

"Lass, I have to tell you, you did a crackin' job on this meal. This is officially my favorite dish of yours."

Gayle had been watching him anxiously as he took the first bite. "It's really good?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Hmm," he mumbled as he stuffed another piece of meat. "Unbelievable."

She finally allowed herself to relax and only then began to eat. And he was right, it definitely wasn't like her mother's but it was a close third place. For the first time since she'd arrived, she felt proud of herself.

Once they were done eating and Gayle cleared the table, he had another glass of whisky while she had a cup of coffee.

"Now," Hamish began. "You're going to be very busy in October planning the Guy Fawkes Day event, and I suggest you get started the first week. In three weeks, we'll spend the weekend in Glamis."

"Oh!" she giggled. "I was so toasted ... I can't thank you enough. I forgot about it." 

"Ms. Boyce, I'll have you know I spent 42,000 pounds on that damned bidding! he exclaimed, his eyes teasing.

"Oh, you did not! That I do remember. But seriously, it was very thoughtful of you." 

"I'll be hunting with Thomas in the morning, since it was raining a few years back when I visited. But we'll have afternoon tea together. He mentioned Helen wanted to go all out for dinner, so it will be formal, but nothing like last night. On your day off, I do want you to buy another dress, more formal than Sunday church attire but more toned down than your butterfly dress."

"Hmm. Okay, so something simple like a little black dress. Got it." 

And she also made a mental note to buy a negligee or sexy nightie ... just in case.

Tuesday, September 24th, 2013

Hamish and Gayle had just finished up breakfast when he announced, "So, little fawn, as promised it is time for you to see more of Scotland. Get dressed in your jeans and a tee-shirt which I have laid out for you. Underwear is permitted, trainers on your feet. Don't forget to bring your camera. I will meet you by the front door in fifteen minutes ... scoot."

Gayle duly scooted to her bedroom, a huge grin plastered on her face. "Perfect!" She had a whole day off from the castle routine and a chance to see some more of the beautiful Scottish countryside. She was so excited and couldn't wait to find out where he was taking her. 

Laid out on her bed were her jeans, sneakers, underwear and a large black tee-shirt with an obscenely large triangle on the front with a rainbow to one side, which she instantly recognized as being a motif from the Pink Floyd era. She quietly sighed knowing that with her full breasts that triangle was going to make her chest the focal point for every set of male eyes she was going to meet on her travels, and her perky nipples would poke right through like laser beams. While it was chilly in the mornings, by noon it would be too warm for even a light jacket. 

Bloody man, he even manages to turn a treat into a porn show! she moaned to herself. Then it occurred to her that she was starting to curse like a Scot. Oh, Lord, I've been here too long. I'll go back home and sound like Billy Connolly, for sure!

She sighed again but realized that there was no point in fighting, so she hurriedly cleaned her teeth, brushed her hair and got dressed.

Hamish was patiently waiting for her by the old estate Land Rover that Hodges usually used to work around the grounds, with Bessie happily sitting in the back, tongue out and tail wagging. She stopped dead by the front door and just stared open mouthed at Hamish. The battered, dirty old jeep was doing its best to look as if it would actually be fit for purpose and failing miserably. She doubted it would even start, never mind actually move.

"You aren't serious are you, Sir?"

"Serious about what?"

"Serious about travelling in that thing. Are we going sightseeing in THAT?"

"We certainly are. The Merc is in for a service and the Range Rover is having a day off to recover its self-esteem after you called it a gas guzzler and a truck. Hop in and try not to upset this one's sensibilities, please."

With yet another dramatic sigh, purely for Hamish's benefit, she clambered into the front passenger side and promptly trod on the sacks of potatoes and cabbages that were in the footwell.

"Ah, I see Hodges is off to the market again tomorrow," he noted. "You cannae whack good home grown tatties and veg."

Gayle felt mildly sick with the smell of old veg, wet dog, stale tobacco and even older something else that she had no desire whatever to put a name to. Opening the window for some fresh air, she asked, "Where are we going, Sir?"

"Relax, sit back and enjoy the view. It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you now, would it? We should be there in about four hours."

"FOUR HOURS!! IN THIS THING?"

He chuckled. "Well, maybe a little less, let's see."

Fifteen minutes later, the old Land Rover wheezed its way over the hill and Gayle looked down onto the most beautiful scenery she had ever seen. The village of Scotlandwell was beneath her, hills on either side, fields stretching way into the distance before stopping on the shores of Loch Leven.

"Nearly there. Quicker than I anticipated. I don't think I took a shortcut, so someone must have moved the destination. I blame the Government myself."

Sighing yet again she remarked, "Sir, your humor leaves just a little to be desired. Is it congenital or did you learn it in your CCF army thing?"

"Nothing wrong with my genitals so I must have learnt it on the drill square. Now, I have some good news for you. For the rest of the day you will call me Hamish again. I know Sir, prat and arsehole are your preferred terms of address at times, however, I shall allow my Christian name on this occasion." The gentle smile playing on his lips took any sting out of the comment. "I have one further order for you too."

She looked at him both expectantly and with a hint of resignation.

"You are hereby ordered to relax, have fun and enjoy this beautiful, sunny day. Ok?"

"Thank you Si ... Hamish."

"Good girl. Right, let's see if your head for heights is as bad as you maintain."

As he said that, the old wagon turned onto a dirt road with a large weather beaten sign at its entrance.

'SCOTTISH GLIDING UNION'

'PORTMOAK'

Gayle was going gliding! 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hamish pulled up onto a grassed parking area besides a single storey, long brick and wood building with yet another battered sign over the front door which proudly proclaimed:




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 20



'CLUBHOUSE'

"Gayle, when out on the airfield proper please stay close to me for your own safety. There are not only gliders here but powered aircraft for tugging as well as airfield vehicles for retrieving and pulling launch cables. When a glider is close to the ground it has very little leeway for maneuver if you should wander in front of it. Bessie must never be let off her leash either. Other than that you are free to roam."

She looked at him in utter amazement. "Am I really going gliding, Hamish, as in going up in the air?"

"You certainly are. I know a few people at the club, and I've arranged a trip for you. There's a nice westerly breeze so you should be able to go ridge soaring too. You wanted to see Scotland and what better way than from the air."

"What's ridge soaring, Sir?"

After about ten seconds of staring from him, she realized her mistake.

"Sorry. Hamish."

"That's better, please try and remember. Ridge soaring is where you fly along ... No, just wait and see. I don't want to ruin your surprise."

They exited the Rover and Hamish went to the back door and retrieved both Bessie and a chunky holdall before giving Gayle the leash.

Sauntering into the clubhouse with Gayle and her new best friend trotting alongside her, Hamish approached a bar area and ordered two coffees from an elderly lady behind the counter.

"Gayle, this here is Mrs. Eccles. She has been here since Pontius started flying. Anything you need just ask and she will put it on my tab." With a whispered aside that Mrs. Eccles was obviously meant to hear, he told her, "The club wouldn't function without her. They are even thinking of teaching her to fly so she can instruct!"

Considering the woman was 90 if she was a day, Gayle thought that highly improbable, but she wisely bit her tongue.

Bessie, in the meantime, was sitting expectantly underneath the counter, eyes firmly fixed on Mrs. Eccles. Having been here many times before, she knew that some cake was going to be winging its way in her direction at any time. Of course, a moment later the woman didn't disappoint, and one contented dog was soon licking the crumbs from her lips.

"OK, if you wait here for a few minutes I'll go and arrange your flight." And with that Hamish picked up his holdall and disappeared through a door marked: 'Mens Cha ging,' the 'N' having long since gone.

Gayle spent the next fifteen minutes inspecting the main room, drinking both hers and Hamish's coffee while watching what little activity was going on outside. A two seat glider was being towed onto the airfield by a bright yellow Land Rover of similar age to the one they had arrived in. She wondered if that was their glider.

Against one wall was a large blackboard with what appeared to be a map of the local area which was covered in squiggles and writing, and on closer inspection she saw that it was a weather map for the day.

'Mainly fine

'Patchy Nimbo Stratus at FL 1500

'Wind predominantly Westerly 15 knots with gusts to 20

'Early morning og will burn off by 9am'

She smiled. "I wonder what happened to the F in Fog?" she said out loud, before realizing what she had just said.

Bursting into laughter, she exclaimed, "Noooooo! I'm even starting to pick up his sense of humor!"

"That you are lass and no bad thing, either."

She turned at the sound of his voice and her jaw dropped.

Hamish stood there in a green flying suit, identical to the one the airmen were wearing that day in the bar when they stopped for lunch after her waxing. And what's more he looked absolutely, completely and utterly drop dead gorgeous.

The clothes she'd seen him wear so far had been either formal or homey. But this green flying suit, with the olive roll neck undershirt, was neither. It was HOT. It fit his body well, showing off his tall, wide-shouldered frame in a non-clingy, laid-back kind of way. The suit made him look the part - competent and professional - and yet relaxed at the same time, and she had to admit the appeal in that combination. The long double-ended zipper from throat to crotch twinkled at her, making her mind wander as to what kind of underwear, if any, it was hiding.

A random thought followed - 

I bet he doesn't need to take the whole thing off to take a piss. All he needs to do is unzip the bottom edge - and that made her giggle and then gasp a moment later when other possibilities came to mind.

She must not have been keeping her naughty thoughts to herself based on Hamish's reaction to her expression.

"So, what has tickled you so much that you are now all red and giggly?" he asked, though he had more than a sneaky suspicion he knew the answer.

"Nothing, Hamish, nothing at all. I was just wondering if you ... never mind. It might be too much for poor Bessie to take. She's only a puppy, after all."

"Hmm. Grab her lead and follow me out onto the airfield. Your transport awaits."

The few minutes it took to walk across the grass were done in companionable silence. The sun gently beat down with the promise of the warmth to come later. They arrived at an old single decker bus painted all over in a checkerboard of black and white. Again it looked to be as decrepit as the estate Land Rover, and she wondered if everything around here was older than she was.

"This is the launch bus where pre-flight briefings are done and pilots gear, aircraft logs, etc., are all kept. The bus stays at this end of the airfield and the cables are brought up to here from the winch at the other end. The cable is then attached to the glider and the signaller contacts the winch down at the other end of the airfield when you are ready for take-off. Also Bessie stays here under the care of the launch supervisor."

Hamish then walked Gayle the short distance to the two seat glider she had seen being towed out earlier. Close up it looked to her at best fragile and at worst downright lethal. The wings were tilted so that the one nearest them was resting on the ground, the other pointing into the air, the uppermost one flexing gently in the wind. Construction was of some white hard plastic material and two small cockpits in tandem covered with a clear Perspex canopy completed her initial impression of the deathtrap.

"Erm Sir, are you sure this is safe?"

Noticing her discomfort, he couldn't resist playing with her. "Of course it is. Trust me. I've been doing this flying thing for weeks now and only seen three crashes, but that only happens if the wind stops blowing. I think we should be ok today. Let's get you strapped in."

She knew he was joking ... wasn't he? Wasn't he?? Even she knew that gliders didn't just fall out of the sky if the wind stopped. And then she caught onto something else he said.

"Hamish, did you say that you have been doing this for weeks now, as in weeks, not years?"

"That's right lass, I even went solo last month and did a circuit of the airfield on my own."

"So, it isn't you that's going to be flying with me then?" said a very relieved Gayle.

"I doubt it, though I will plead my case to fly you with the Chief Flying Instructor and see if he will let me take you. Now hold onto this rim and step onto the front seat. I'll strap you in."

Gayle, with mounting trepidation, stepped onto the seat then slid herself down so she was sitting legs out and with her feet resting on two pedals. He then gently took the strap which came through her legs and slotted the two waist belts into the central hub on the first strap. He then brought the two shoulder belts over her breasts and slotted them into the middle.

"Just got to tighten everything now." And with great relish, he cinched the waist straps before firmly pulling on the shoulder harness. "Just testing," he smirked as he ran both hands under the straps over her breasts before firmly tweaking her nipples. He took the camera she was tightly holding and quickly took some pictures of her sitting trussed up in the front seat before handing it back.

Gayle was becoming as nervous as she was excited. Her bum was literally only inches off the ground and the cockpit, while snug, was also roomy enough to allow her to move her arms and touch the instrument panel directly in front of her. A control stick came up from the floor between her legs, and she debated holding onto it before deciding not to touch anything, just in case. As much as she trusted Hamish, and common sense said he didn't want to actually kill her, she prayed the Chief guy was going to do the flying, and with that thought a short stocky man in his early fifties strode into view.

"Ross," Hamish called out, "Meet the lovely lady I would like to fly with today. Gayle, meet Ross, our CFI." 

Ross stopped by the side of the aircraft, leant down and extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our flying club. Being midweek it is nice and quiet so you can go up for as long as you want, as the aircraft isn't double booked. It's a lovely day for soaring so I would make the most of it." Turning to Hamish, he said, "So, what's this about you wanting to do the flight? I know you've gone solo now, but are you sure you can do it again?"

"Yes. Please Ross, I'm sure I can. My last landing was a bit bumpy but that was because I dropped my sandwiches and had to rummage around to try and pick them up, but with it being a soarable day it'll give me plenty of time to get used to the plane before I have to land it. Please let me take her up."

Gayle's eyes by this time were as big as saucers as she listened open mouthed to the conversation. Were they seriously contemplating this? she wondered in a slight panic.

"Weeellll," Ross mused, "if you are really sure you will be ok then I suppose you can give it a go. Just watch your airspeed close to the ridge and keep a good lookout for other gliders." With that he turned to Gayle, gave her a wink and strolled away.

Daringly, considering she hadn't given him her forgiveness, Hamish gleefully leant over the front cockpit, gave her a big, sloppy kiss, clambered into the back and strapped himself in. "This is going to be soooo much fun!"

Gayle, meantime, was completely torn between the thrill of flying in a glider and the terror of being flown by someone who was almost a novice. "Sir, are you really sure you are ok with this? I won't be upset or anything if you aren't."

Noticing that she was now starting to sound more than a little frightened, he took pity on her. "Gayle, my little fawn, relax and enjoy the view. We've both been having fun with you. When I said I have been doing this for a few weeks I was being a little economical with the truth. A few weeks is somewhere in the region of 600, and while I really did go solo a few weeks ago - I took half a day off work - it wasn't by any means my first ... more like my 500th. I first learnt in the CCF when I was 16 and have been flying ever since. I'm actually a part time instructor here."

"Damn it, Hamish," she laughed, relieved. "I was really starting to panic for a moment there."

He laughed back. "It's a trick we always play on a newbie. You are now officially indoctrinated into the club, so as I said earlier, you are hereby ordered to relax and enjoy yourself."

And with those words, she leant back in her seat, briefly closed her eyes and sighed with contentment. She just had this feeling that today was going to be magical.

"Ok, here's what happens now: A steel cable will be attached to the glider and we will be literally pulled into the air by the winch at the other end of the airfield, reaching about 1000 feet at the top of the launch. The take off will be steep and you will go up faster than any elevator you have ever been in. I think you will find it quite exhilarating. Once we have released the cable, we will level out and fly towards a marker on that hill to our right. I will need your help as co-pilot to release the cable at the top of the launch, as both my hands will be full. I will tell you when to release us by pulling that yellow knob in front of you. Can you do that? Give it a test pull." 

She leant forward, grasped the knob tightly and pulled. "Yes Sir, I can do that, but what happens if you don't have someone with you? How to you release it then?"

"I take Bessie with me. She's got quite good at pulling it with her paws on command."

She sighed. When will I ever learn? she wondered.

The man who had been driving the yellow Land Rover earlier picked up the wing which was resting on the ground and lifted it to his waist, levelling the glider, and from the back she heard Hamish muttering away to himself, and she realized he was doing some sort of checklist before take-off

"Controls free and easy.

"Ballast within weights.

"Straps tight and locked.

"Instruments zeroed and working normally.

"Flaps and trim set for take-off.

"Ok, we're set and good to go. Canopy down and locked."

And with that, Gayle found herself enclosed in this little flying machine, the wind no longer ruffling her hair, her heart rate soaring. Another man knelt at the front and attached a cable and as soon as he was clear she saw the wire snake along the grass and tighten, and then felt the glider start to move forward and pick up speed. Seconds later, with a last bump, they were airborne, and all she could hear was the wind as it rushed past the canopy.

Hamish hadn't been joking either. She had once travelled in an express lift when shopping in Arlington, Virginia, but this was a different league altogether as her stomach settled somewhere around her feet. The plane seemed to be pointing at the sky and she felt like she was lying on her back, feet in the air and totally at the mercy of the gods. How could anyone actually be in control of this was her single thought.

After about 30 seconds the plane started to level out from its high nose up attitude, and Hamish spoke from the back. "Ok, you can open your eyes now. Grab that yellow knob and when I tell you, pull."

She reached forward, grasped it in her left hand and without thinking, yanked it hard.

"Oh, for fuc ... Bloody women drivers" came the growl from the back as the glider suddenly lurched skywards before being corrected.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I'm really sorry. I thought you said pull and ..." stammered a panicked Gayle.

The deep chuckle from behind stopped her in mid flow and his words stopped the panic. "Worry not, we were almost at the top anyway. Besides, I've always maintained Bessie was easier to train. I just hope you have less flatulence than her."

"Not sure about flatulence, but do I have permission to crap myself?"

The full blown laugh answered that question, and with that, the glider banked sharply to the right and flew directly towards the hill.

For the first time since she had taken off, Gayle was able to appreciate that she was really flying in something smaller than a commercial airliner and that she could actually see not only the instruments, but also a complete panoramic view of Scotland and not through a porthole in the side either. She was spellbound at the real, unobstructed bird's eye view of Scotland.

What did grab her attention, though, was the fact that the hill they were flying towards was getting closer and closer, and they certainly didn't have the height to clear the top of it if they didn't turn away soon. Just as it seemed it was too late to avoid a crash into a fluorescent orange marker tied to a tree, Hamish turned sharply to the left, and they found themselves flying parallel to the hill, only some 50 feet or so from the shrubs and rocks on the side. She then noticed the slight pressure in her bum from the seat and realized that they were going up again.

"Pretty impressive, isn't it?" came a cheerful voice. "We are now actually soaring the ridge. The westerly wind is hitting the hill and being forced up and all we are doing is flying in the rising air. If you look at that instrument marked 'variometer' in the middle of the dash, you can see it is reading plus three. That means we are going up at three feet per second. In a few minutes we will be flying above the top of the hill. If you look at the instrument on the right marked 'altimeter,' you can see it is reading 850. That means we are 850 feet above the airfield. We should reach about 2500 feet once we have finished soaring. Once we reach optimum height we will fly away from here, and I will give you the cook's tour, commentary 'n all. Just sit back and enjoy the view."

Gayle was mesmerized. The sun beat gently through the canopy making the cockpit pleasantly warm, and the only sound was the wind as it flowed past the aircraft with a constant, but not intrusive noise. To her right the hill loomed over her head, and the feeling of looking up into the trees and crags while flying underneath them was intoxicating. Ahead of her was Loch Leven, and all around was green and fertile land. She could see the individual animals as they grazed and farm vehicles working on the fields. One big yellow field looked as if it was being worked on, and it dawned on her that this was harvest time and it was combines that were methodically criss-crossing the earth, harvesting the wheat. On the Loch itself she could see small boats with an outboard on the back which were being used by fisherman lazing on their day off.

She grabbed her camera and started happily snapping away until she caught sight of her reflection mirrored in the canopy. The ginormous cheese eating grin was plain as day, and she suddenly realized just how happy she was. She was in heaven.

Hamish had been watching her take pictures, and his ego inflated when he saw her expression. He could see the wondrous joy on her face via the reflection, and loved that she enjoyed flying as much as he did.

"Sir, thank you. This is absolutely perfect. Thank you so much."

"You won't be thanking me when I climb out, get in the front and put you over my knee. Rule one for the day is ...?"

"Call Sir Hamish and give him a big, slobbery kiss when we land?" hazarded Gayle.

"Close. Substitute the kiss for a shag in the back of the launch bus and you've got a deal."

"How's about we settle for a good BJ and letting you beat me at Scrabble when we get home? But you'd probably cheat."

"Cheeky sod. I'd beat you fair and square. What were we on about anyway?"

"You were saying it was about time I got a raise for my dusting skills and to call you Hammy."

"Hmphhh. Any more of your sass and I will turn us upside down and open the canopy. And if that doesn't shut you up, I'll undo your straps as well. A BJ and snuggle it is, and if you're really good I might give you one of those organism thingies too. First hint of a Hammy, though, and your backside goes scarlet. Comprende?"

She decided that discretion was the better part of valor here, and as much as she wanted to push his buttons and have a bit of fun, she realized that she was quite capable of going too far and that might just spoil the great day they were having. She opted for the safe approach.

"Hamish, what's that bridge I can see in the distance?"

The glider turned gently to the North and Gayle saw not one, but two bridges spaced about a mile apart.

"The bridge on the left is the Tay Rail Bridge and the one to the right is the road bridge, both lead up into Dundee. The rail bridge collapsed with a train on it during a violent storm in 1879. About 70 people were killed. It wasn't one of our greatest feats of engineering, unfortunately. Think the engineer might have been on the loopy juice when he designed it. Going up the coast you go past Carnoustie, Arbroath and onto Aberdeen."

Turning to the west he pointed out Dunfermline, and on turning South Gayle instantly recognized the famous reddy brown Forth Rail Bridge with its three great cantilever arches in the far distance, even though it was some 30 miles from where they were flying. She happily clicked away vowing to make her sister jealous when she sent her the pictures.




Aprons For Gayle Ch. 20



The next hour was spent soaring over the area, returning every twenty minutes or so to the ridge to gain back the height they had lost. She was loving every single minute of it. Hamish, realizing that she was now well and truly relaxed, decided to push her daring and see just how adventurous she was.

"Right Gayle, time for you to earn your trip and do some of the work. Do you think you could fly this health hazard?" Before she could get over her surprise and answer, he carried on. "Good girl, thought so. I want you to place your feet on the pedals and hold the stick in your right hand. Note the position of the nose on the horizon and gently ease forward on the stick. You will see the nose dips. Then ease back and you will see the nose rise. I then want you to put the nose back to its original position. Ok with that? Good, you have control."

"You mean I'm actually flying this thing?" Gayle squeaked.

"Yes," Hamish replied and started to tap his hands and feet against the bodywork to show he wasn't holding the controls. "Ease forward on the stick as I told you and see what happens."

The glider instantly pitched nose down, followed by a strangled squawk from the front, before it lurched back up again and pointed to the sky. For the next few seconds the craft continued this roller coaster of up and down before Gayle got the hang of it and managed to smooth things out. Eventually after about a minute and only a few gentle nudges of the controls from Hamish, she was flying straight and level with the nose at the right attitude.

"Very good. Well done. So how does that feel?"

"Incredible, absolutely brill. I'm loving it." 

Hamish grinned from ear to ear. Not everyone took to it as easily as she did, or even liked it, and the fact that she loved it made his heart soar in pride. He was determined to spend as long as it took, and whatever it took, to teach her to fly. She didn't yet know it but she was going to go home at the end of her contract with fond memories of being taught to fly.

The next hour was spent teaching her the basics of turns and stalls, with Hamish taking control every time they had to return to the ridge for height. It was about this time that he noticed she was starting to fidget, and he chuckled to himself. He knew why!

"Ermm Hamish," she ventured.

"Yes, my little fawn?" grinned the pilot.

"Ermm, what happens when you need a ... comfort break?"

"Ahhh, that's when things get tricky. You can either hold it in or let it go. Why? Are you needing?"

"Ermm yes, all this bumping about and the coffees I had earlier and I need to go. I don't think I can hold it in for much longer."

"Then we have a problem, however, it isn't insurmountable. If you feel underneath your seat you will find a plastic tube about the thickness of a garden hosepipe. On the end is a small funnel. The other end exits underneath the glider. You just have to position yourself over this end and let go."

She was beyond mortified, but with the mounting pressure between her legs and the pain in her bladder there was no option but to strip down her jeans and knickers and pee. Logistics, however, meant that this wasn't simple. She had to undo the harness to release the strap that went between her legs, lift her bum the few inches needed to remove the lower garments and then lower herself back into the seat before relieving herself. And all without nudging the controls.

Hamish was convulsing with laughter in the back at the sight of this wriggling, squiggling girl trying to strip, her head knocking the canopy when she stood up too far and the red blush that was rapidly spreading on the back of her neck. 

Finally she got settled and contemplated the logistics of fitting the small rubber funnel over her urethra while not splattering the seat and floor of the cockpit.

"By the way, before you get started, did you check the outside end for corks? The ground crew and other pilots often block the hose for the devilment." And with that Hamish started convulsing again.

"Oh fuck, fuck and fuckity fuck," she wailed. "I don't know."

"Don't worry. I did sweetheart, and you are clear to pee," he hiccuped as tears started to roll from the corner of his eye.

"Aye, Aye, Siree." She immediately relinquished the last of her modesty and let rip.

Once she had finished, redressed and strapped herself back in again, he told her it was time to call it a day and head for home. Even though she had thoroughly enjoyed herself, she was secretly quite glad, because truthfully she was tired. Concentrating for an hour while learning to fly, along with the newness of the entire situation, had taken its toll and she badly needed a quiet hour to recover.

"Thank you, Sir. I think that's a good idea. I'm really bushed," she admitted. "And before you fuss at me, I deliberately called you Sir as a remark of respect and thanks for the wonderful day," she finished.

Hamish went silent at this and after a few moments made his reply. "Thank you too, Gayle. That means a lot to me."

The next ten minutes or so were spent with Hamish reducing height, bringing the glider back to the airfield, setting the plane up into a circuit and lining up to land. The closer the plane got to the ground the faster it seemed to be moving, until at the last second, just as it seemed they were about to hit at a fatal speed, he eased back on the controls and lifted the nose, leaving the glider flying parallel to and about two feet above the ground. As the speed bled away he continued to lift the nose until with a soft bump they settled on the ground and rolled to a stop adjacent to the launch bus.

Hamish opened the canopy, released his straps and leant forward to whisper in her ear. "You were bloody amazing today, and I am so proud of you. The speed you picked up the control of the plane was awesome. You obviously have excellent hand eye coordination and are a natural. If you would like I would be honored to teach you to fly."

Her heart burst in her chest with pride and her face went beet red in embarrassment. She was about to reply when Ross sauntered over.

"Well, Hamish, how did it go? I see this landing was better than your last," he said with a grin.

"Not a bad trip, thanks, and some excellent soaring too. Gayle flew for a while, but I got dizzy with not knowing which way was up, so we had to come back. Think I will teach Bessie next week."

"Well, so much for the compliment," muttered Gayle, but the hands gently massaging her shoulders belied his lie. She had come to realize by now that his compliments always came publicly in the form of a teasing put down, and she actually no longer resented them.

They climbed out of the glider and while she went to the launch bus to relax with Bessie, he washed the plane down, rinsed out the pee tube she had used and filled in the post flight paperwork before joining her on the bus.

Leaving the launch bus they headed back to the clubhouse. As they exited he said, "Let's get something to eat." He put his hand possessively in the small of her back and led her toward the building.

"That sounds wonderful if I didn't leave my stomach back on the glider." She chuckled, teasing him. "Seriously, that was the most exhilarating and thrilling experience I've ever had."

He leaned down and cooed, his voice sexily husky, "Why couldn't you have told me that the first time we had sex, little fawn?"

She swallowed hard and blushed wildly and would have run straight into the door if he hadn't opened it for her at that moment. Not being quick with a tease or serious reply, she decided to keep silent.

They spent the next hour having a leisurely meal while he talked about his experiences of flying and instructing the 16 year olds on their first flights, culminating on sending them solo. Of course they were fraught with the torturous teasing he would bestow upon them, and the way he explained their reactions left Gayle in stitches from laughing so hard.

But something stirred in her when his eyes would light up at the memories, and he never lost his smile. She realized how passionate he was about flying and was very grateful to him in trusting her and letting her fly the craft. She would most certainly take him up on his offer of teaching her to fly. She wondered if it was possible that she could even go solo someday, but right now that seemed a dream too far.

By then it was late afternoon and they headed back to the estate Land Rover. Just as he was about to open the driver's side door a hand on his arm stopped him. Turning, he was met with a pair of warm, soft and wet lips seeking his own. Her arms went around his neck, while his automatically went around her hips to rest on her bum.

"Thank you, Sir," she breathed heavily when she regretfully pulled back.

Bessie gently woofed in agreement.

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AUTHOR'S END COMMENTS:  First, thanks "mysterious woman" who provided the description of Hamish in his flight uniform. 

I will admit I was a bit lost in getting the 'feel' of gliding. But I looked on youtube and watched the gliding from Portmoak. OMG! It looked like the coolest thing in the world!! I highly recommend take a look at some. Of course if it were 'me' behind the controls I would most definitely have crashed it and screamed the entire time! Hamish would promptly send 'me' back to America later that day!!