From the Top Shelf - In a Mist, Chapter 10

 Our schedule is a bit mixed up this week because of the upcoming Love our Lurkers days, but don't worry, you won't have to go without this week's installment of In a Mist.

The story so far:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9

This is a follow-up to last week's revelation of Lennox's love of music and Elizabeth's introduction to jazz. They are spending quite a cozy afternoon together, but watch out, Mr. Lennox! Elizabeth is still as incorrigible as ever and she puts them both in danger.

In a Mist Chapter 10 - Elizabeth leads Lennox into danger

Later on the rain stopped. As they made their way back to the house, Elizabeth looked up at the brightening sky and saw a rainbow. Gracefully arched, it seemed to her like a girl in a multi-coloured dress bent over for discipline. Up there in the sky, swallows, like aerial scene-shifters, were chasing away the clouds, pecking maniacally at their vapourous skins.

"I shall take Mr. Lennox down to the beach," she told her guardian during lunch. He murmured his approval of the outing, glad that Lennox would be there to keep an eye on her.

"Watch her, Mr. Lennox, she's a handful" he cautioned, and addressed himself once more to his soup.

"I trust you can swim, Mr. Lennox?" she queried pertly. He detected the presence of a challenge.

"Tolerably well, thank you," he answered, smiling to himself. It was as if she were searching for something she could beat him at. Had his musical skills secretly nettled her?

At least he'd been right about her in one thing. No amount of chastisement could ever subdue a nature such as hers. In fact it seemed almost to thrive on punishment. He was glad of that. The last thing he wanted was to break her spirit.

After lunch she waited impatiently for him in the hall. The jazz had acted upon her nervous system like a drug and she was in the mood for courting danger. She wanted to show him her true colours. She'd taken her whippings bravely, more bravely than most boys would have done. Now there was noting left on earth to terrify her. She'd survived her baptism of fire.

She was shamelessly flaunting a daring two-piece swimsuit in pale blue cotton, the pants only just covering her cane-marks. Ove it she wore a knee-length white bathing-robe and carried her towel in a light canvas grip. She was barefoot.

Lennox joined her in cream slacks, sports shirt, and sandals.

"Where's your costume?" she demanded almost petulantly.

"I'm wearing it underneath. Don't fuss, girl, else you'll get a spanking!" She blushed and put her finger to her lips beseechingly, embarrassed lest the servants should hear him. Would he really do it to her there in the hallway, in full view of anyone that might come along? She knew him well enough to know that he would.

"Come on, there's a secret way down to the beach over the cliffs," she said. "Are you afraid of heights?"

He shook his head. Again that slight edge of challenge in her voice.

She was off, speeding across the lawn towards the outer wall with Lennox following, trying his best to preserve some dignity. They scrambled over the old dry stone wall. The grey stones were warm in the sunlight which flooded the red land below.

They dodged the ruddle pools and ran downhill towards the headland. The tumbledown walls gave way to rugged hedgerows. The lane deepened like a tunnel below sharply sloping fields. Ahead of them were the white breakers of the sea.

Elizabeth arrived at the edge of the cliff and waited for Lennox to catch her up. She looked up at him triumphantly, as though she'd just beaten him in a race. "Now it's my turn to show you things," she said, grinning devilishly. She pointed out the rocky path zig-zagging its way down the steep face.

Their descent was not without its perilous moments. At times they both started to slip and slide on the loose rock and they had to cling frantically to the roots of gorse and sloe bushes. "Watch out for adders. They mate this time of year," Elizabeth said, turning towards him so he could see she wasn't afraid. Lennox began to tread even more carefully, but he saw no snakes. Far below them the empty beach spread out flat and golden for miles.

They were hot and sticky when they reached the bottom. They clambered over the great rocks fallen from the sea-worn edge and leapt onto the wet sand.

"Race you to the water!" she cried, flinging off her robe and sprinting seawards, her dancing feet kicking up a storm of sand behind her,

"Not fair!" he shouted, caught in the act of taking down his slacks and unbuttoning his shirt. By the time he could start after her she was already swimming effortlessly amid the waves.

They stayed in the sea for a good half hour, testing each other out with races and crazy games. Elizabeth dared him to swim out with her to a small rock in the middle of the bay. When she reached it she perched on top of it, like a mermaid, while he swam round and round her, finally grabbing her leg and hauling her screaming back into the water.

Because of his athletic build he was by far the more powerful swimmer of the two. He could overtake and out-distance her with ease, and soon she was forced to acknowledge it. "Is there nothing I can do better than you?" she cried vexation as they rested, bobbing in the water.

"That is no way to speak to your tutor, Miss," he warned teasingly. "Have a care, lest I decide to take my cane to your bottom when we get back!" He seized her by the ankle and submerged her completely.

"B-but you said you wouldn't punish me at weekends," she spluttered, coming up for air when he released her.

"Ah, but I didn't really know you then, Elizabeth." He grinned hugely, relishing his masculine ascendancy over the girl. "Knowing you as I do now, I'd have no hesitation in taking down your costume and putting you over my knee here and now if I felt you deserved it."

Elizabeth pulled a face and swam quickly out of reach. Yet part of her yearned for him to do just that.

The tide had turned and was starting to go out. It was no longer safe to bathe. "Race you back," he said. This time he won easily.

She flopped down on the beach at his feet like an exhausted puppy and lay there on her tummy, idly tracing pictures on the wet sand. Lennox saw the cane weals peeping out from either side of her buttocks where the gusset of the swimsuit had rucked up. Like a salty eel his penis stiffened and rose. "Stand up, Elizabeth, and I'll towel you off."

He rubbed and pummeled her dripping body with sadistic glee, paying special attention to the tops of her thighs. Then he began to use the towel like a whip, flicking her playfully just below her buttocks, catching her on a tender spot.

"OUCH! PIG!" she squealed histrionically, then glared at him, arms akimbo, daring him to punish her for saying it. Despite his good-humoured warnings she didn't feel in the slightest bit under his jurisdiction, out there in the open air. The schoolroom seemed a million miles away.

"Right, Elizabeth, you're in for it now!" he snapped, advancing on her, bent on retribution.

"You'll have to catch me first!" she cried, taking to her heels with an angry Lennox in pursuit. But instead of making for the sea-shore she veered to the left towards the mouth of the river Lym. Half an hour before it had been smooth and sluggish, but the tide had turned and a swift current was running.

He lost his footing on the slippery sand  and fell awkwardly, twisting an ankle. Cursing both himself and the girl he struggled to his feet, just in time to see her dive into the swirling waters.

The tide had turned in earnest now. The river-tide was racing out to sea. It looked tremendously strong. Lennox doubted whether even a powerful swimmer like he could do battle with it, let alone a mere slip of a girl.

"Elizabeth! Come back!" he yelled at the top of his voice, but the tidal current had already fastened on her, sending her spinning helplessly towards the churning vortex where the river met the sea.

He limped the few remaining yards to the river bank and plunged in. Once in the water his twisted ankle magically ceased to trouble him. He swam smoothly and confidently out into the middle. Entering the mainstream of the rushing current he swam with it and quickly overtook the girl.

She had completely panicked. She was flailing her arms wildly and screaming with terror, swallowing in the process getting great mouthfuls of water.

He slapped her resoundingly across the face to subdue her. Then seizing her from behind he gripped her in an arm-lock under her chin and began doggedly to tow her to safety out of the current's reach. He couldn't fight it head on by swimming against it so instead he tried to swim across it in the direction of the opposite bank which was by now the nearer of the two.

The desperate struggle lasted an eternity. He sobbed for breath, his lungs nearly bursting with the effort. Elizabeth lay limp and silent in the crook of his arm. Then at last they were free of the current and within reach of the shore.

His feet touched bottom. Raising himself he flung her roughly onto the river bank where she lay spluttering and weeping. His compassion for her was as nothing compared to his bitter anger that she had so stupidly endangered the lives of both of them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her teeth chattering with cold. She felt wretched. As her fear ebbed away she experienced a longing to be whipped.

"You're sorry?" he echoed flatly, flicking the wet brown hair out of his eyes and blowing his nose with his hands. He stood up and gazed around. Nothing but hump-backed sand dunes covered with coarse clumps of marram grass. A couple of hundred yards away was the swollen estuary, Their clothes and belongings lay where they'd left them--safe, intact, and completely out of reach.

"How many miles is it home--from this side of the river?" he asked grimly, clenching his hands to prevent himself from seizing her in his anger and shaking her bodily. She was still in a state of dazed shock--he would delay his punishment till later.

"Twelve...maybe more," she replied, chilled to the bone as she struggled wearily to her feet. "The nearest bridge is seven miles up-river...I'm so sorry!" The full realisation of what had actually happened began to dawn on her. He'd risked his life for hers. They could have both been drowned. She dissolved into grateful, guilty tears.

As she began to cry his anger evaporated into pity. Her anguished sobbings tore at his heart-strings. "Don't cry, you're safe now,"  he murmured, taking her hands in his. She regarded him in mute adoration then planted a kiss full on his lips. Confused and aroused, he drew back, ashamed of his feelings. She blushed and surreptitiously adjusted the seat of her swimsuit pants to make herself decent again.

The sun had vanished behind leaden clouds. From somewhere up among the dunes a curlew cried. They were cold, wet, and half-naked. "We'd better make a start then, if we hope to get back before nightfall," he sighed, frowning at the change in the weather.

"Why don't we borrow a boat from someone to get us back across the river?" she suggested suddenly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

How typical of a girl to say a stupid thing like that, he thought screwing up his face in exasperation. "I can't see a single living creature in this god-forsaken spot--let alone a blasted boat!" he growled, slapping his sides resoundingly to keep warm.

"But the village is only just around the next bend. I think Mrs. Farquarson has a boat--"

"Who?" he inquired testily.

"Mrs. Diana Farquarson--the femme fatale of Lymchurch!" she laughed. "She's terribly mysterious and glamorous. About thirty-five, divorced, awfully rich. There's been heaps of gossip and scandal going around about her in the village ever since she settled here. It seems she's had a string of gentlemen friends--some of them not very nice by all accounts." She frowned. "I've always thought there was something rather cruel about her. You can see it in her eyes."

The more she chattered on excitedly about Diana Farquarson, the more visibly interested Lennox became in her--so much so that eventually she grew jealous and wished she'd never mentioned the woman's name.

"How did you come to meet this lady?" he asked her curiously, aware of her guardian's detestation of visitors at Lymchurch House.

 "She has a daughter, Louisa, two years younger than me," she replied more guardedly. "We used to play together when we were little. Tomms would drive me there in the car."

"And you say she has a boat?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then we'll ask her for the loan of it. She can only say no."

They set off along the river bank in the direction of the village, Elizabeth growing more gloomily convinced by the minute that her tutor would succumb to the fatal attractions of Diana Farquarson. The previous night's storm had caused flooding.  Small trees and bushed uprooted by the wind and the rain had been washed downstream. He ran to the water's edge and searched among the debris, looking for a suitable rod of correction--for he hadn't forgotten that he still had a score to settle with the girl. Punishment should be dealt out swiftly and without delay. That was a maxim he always adhered to, and he saw no earthly reason in departing from it now.

He fished out a supple ash switch from the water and began to strip it of its leaves. She watched him closely, the colour draining from her face. How she feared him at that moment! She hadn't the strength to run away--even if she'd wanted to. She knew he intended to whip her, there in the open...and she was going to let him...and even love him for doing it. It was his privilege, his right--for he had saved her life out there in the turbulent river mouth and she could never begin to repay him such a colossal debt.

His face grew cruel with excitement. He knew he was perfectly justified in giving her the whipping of her life.

"Carry on walking!" he barked--and as she did so, casting fearful glances behind her, he began to beat her with the switch, across the bottom and thighs. Yelping with pain she broke into a run, but he pursued her, wielding the switch with such deadly visciousness that the backs of her thighs became tattooed with a network of bright red weals.

But he soon grew tired of attacking a moving target, for her bottom was by now wriggling and swerving so furiously that it had become maddeningly elusive. Seizing her by the waist he carried her over to where a large rock projected from the steep flank of the Lym. Guessing what was in his mind she tried to dig her heels in the sand--but he was so much stronger than her.

He bent her across the flat face of the rock and began cooly taking down her swimsuit pants. "No! Not here! Please!" she wailed, scarlet with humiliation that he would actually go so far as to bare her bottom out there in the open countryside, where anyone might chance to see her in her shameful nakedness.

Lennox's excitement rose to a fury as he planted cut after whistling cut upon the shocked girl's bare flanks. The knobby little buds on the ash stick tore her flesh. Soon the white plumpness of her cheeks was dotted with specks of blood. Had she turned to look behind her she would have glimpsed the dome of his tumescent prick rearing up like a snake above the top of his shorts.

Her yells coalesced into one continuous scream. Seagulls flocked overhead, mistaking her piercing cry for one of their own. She clawed with her nails at the granite face and jiggled her bottom frenziedly from side to side, but still the switch rose and fell--more slowly now, but with pitiless regularity.

He took grim delight in the whipping. He felt he was stripping away the layers of social convention separating him from the girl. Now she was no longer his pupil, nor he her tutor. He was conscious only of his prick and its blind urge to penetrate and possess her. Her naked rump--lewdly thrust outwards in his face--drove him nearly to the edge of insanity. He could plainly see her pussy, its trembling lips seeming to plead with him as her bottom gyrated in torment. Never before had she been blatantly exposed. It was as though she was offering herself up to him. How easily he could do it to her now, there on the riverbank.

Then suddenly his mood changed. The glorious elation vanished and he remembered once again who they were--an innocent young girl and a tutor twelve years her senior, entrusted with grave responsibilities for her welfare.  With a bitter cry of frustration he flung the ash switch into the middle of the river and tried frantically to cram his stalking erection back inside his shorts.

Scooping up water in his hands he sloshed it over her crimson wealed behind to wash away all traces of blood. The salt water stung her tender flesh and she gasped and flinched.

Then when the searing agony died away she felt his fingers caress and stroke her weals, sweetly and soothingly, like the fingers of a priest at a 'laying on of hands'. She closed her tear-stained eyes and breathed deeply. What he was doing to her now was heavenly balm.

She loved him for it, near to madness.

Well now, that was quite a punishment. But what about the mysterious Diana? Will Lennox fall under her spell?