Rachel’s dream was to live in a bungalow.
All her young life she had dreaded the instruction to “get up those stairs my girl” because she knew that what would follow was the instructions to “Bend over the bed” and then “Hitch up your skirt and finally “Get those knickers down.”
That had been quite bad enough when she had been a child, graduating from her Mother’s hand and hairbrush to the more formal canings her Father felt she needed. But when she was married she had thought those days were gone until her husband, talking to her Father, had been told about the way Rachel was disciplined when she had been growing up.
And of course her husband was more than ready to continue his young wife’s lessons when he decided she needed reminding of his control over her. So still, at twenty four, she heard the words she feared.
“Get up those stairs, my girl”
All her young life she had dreaded the instruction to “get up those stairs my girl” because she knew that what would follow was the instructions to “Bend over the bed” and then “Hitch up your skirt and finally “Get those knickers down.”
That had been quite bad enough when she had been a child, graduating from her Mother’s hand and hairbrush to the more formal canings her Father felt she needed. But when she was married she had thought those days were gone until her husband, talking to her Father, had been told about the way Rachel was disciplined when she had been growing up.
And of course her husband was more than ready to continue his young wife’s lessons when he decided she needed reminding of his control over her. So still, at twenty four, she heard the words she feared.
“Get up those stairs, my girl”