Chapter Two

When Friday afternoon came, Hallie was back in Graham Reynolds house, having disappeared from her friends, claiming that she had to do some house cleaning for her mother. She took the route through the woods, climbed the fence and hiked through the field past the remnants of the shed and knocked on the back door.

Once Graham showed her into his parlor, she was surprised to see it not so dour as it had been in the dark of night. Now, the well-lit room looked nothing like it had the first time she’d seen it. But, she was stopped short of enjoying the visit when she spotted a long, flat, wooden paddle lying on Graham’s desk. Before she could back away, Graham had the thing in his hand.

“I don’t think we need to waste any time,” he said directly. “It won’t take long if you behave yourself.” The reference to the last furious battle with the man did not go unnoticed. “Lower your shorts please,” he ordered.

“Must I?” she asked.

“This is punishment, Hallie. One I might remind you, was not required of you, if you’d been willing to tell me who your accomplices were.”

“I told you, I had no accomplices.”

“Then all you have to do is lower your shorts and we’ll begin.”

Resigned to her fate, Hallie did as she was told. Turning around she undid the button at the waist and pushed the red fabric over her hips. She would have been content to let them fall to her ankles, but Graham had something else in mind.

“Hand them to me please,” he said.

Hallie was hoping that she wouldn’t have to expose herself this way, but he seemed determined to make her suffer every little indignity. Maybe he thought she’d finally give in and give up her friends. But Hallie was more determined than he was. Plucking the shorts from the floor, she did as she was told.

“Now your panties,” he said. “Then bend over the chair.”

Following his instructions, the white cotton panties were quickly in Graham’s hand and she was leaning over the arm of the chair feeling the cool leather against her pubis. Not bothering to look around, she held her breath, gritted her teeth and clenched her hands on the opposite arm.

From Graham Reynolds’s vantage p