Finding Happiness Ch. 08

"It may be one explanation. A child expects her parents to be all powerful, all knowing. A child does not need to explain, to communicate. I expected the protest, but I was surprised at the rage that I sensed from you, Junie. It is not an emotion you show the world very often."

"It was weird, I was so mad at you. I kept thinking that you were being so callous."

"Well, little girl, when you were little and you were bad, how were you punished?"

Junie's feet froze. "Usually I was just sent to my room. But there was one time when I did not come home. I was at a neighbor kid's house. We were playing, hiding under her bed and I fell asleep. It was way after dark when I woke up and went home." Her voice was quivering, "My dad was so angry at me."

"What did he do to you?"

"He yelled a lot, yelled that I had upset my mother so much that I had made her sick. He had picked me up and was holding me in his hands. I can still see his face, all purple, and the way he looked scared me so bad. He had this rage in his eyes. Then he put me over his knee and spanked me." Junie choked down a sob. "He spanked me and spanked me and spanked me. And all the time he yelled at me how bad and stupid I was. How I had hurt my mother."

"Where was your mother?"

Junie took a deep shaky breath. "I don't know. She was not there. I know that at the time I thought I had killed her."

"How old were you then?"

"I don't know, eight or nine."

"Did he ever do that again?"

"No, my dad worked a lot and my mom was the one who did most of all of the discipline for me and my brothers. She would just send me to my room. That was the only time anyone had spanked me until I came to you."

"So, little girl, when your mother sent you to your room, did it work?"

"Work, Sir?"

"Did you learn your lesson? Did you improve your behavior?"

"Yes, I guess so. I wasn't a very bad kid."

Bob laughed, "And you have not been a very bad sub." His blue eyes sparkled, "Yet."

Junie looked down at their swinging feet. "So, what now?"

"Now, little girl, you are sent to your room."

Junie's head jerked up and she looked at him in protest. "What?"

"You are sent to your room." His voice was firm. "And that means your bedroom, not your sewing room. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Her voice was petulant. Suddenly there was nothing she wanted less than to be sent to her room. She realized she had been looking forward to being punished. That she had been squirming in delicious terror at the prospect of writhing and screaming as Bob exacted some terrible toll for her transgressions.

Bob's voice continued. "You will only leave your room to use the bathroom. Then you will return to your room."

Again Junie felt another wave of rage; she wanted to scream that this was not fair. "Yes, Sir." She could not keep the disappointment from her voice.

"You were hoping for a little more drama, weren't you?"

"Yes, Master."

"Well, you aren't getting any drama." Bob got up and walked out of her room and closed the door. Junie gave a frustrated wail and threw herself down on her bed.

It was very late in the night when the realization that she was going to be spending the night alone in her oversized bed hit her. For the first time she began to cry, soft bitter tears of self-pity. She did not fall asleep until the night sky began to lighten with the first promises of dawn.

Her watch said it was after 10:00 a.m. when she woke. When she opened her bedroom door to go to the bathroom she saw the tray on the floor next to her door. A bowl of cold oatmeal sat next to two dry looking pieces of toast. The only thing that looked the slightest bit appetizing was the glass of orange juice. The message was clear. She was not done.

Junie quickly used the bathroom and carried the tray into her room. She nibbled on the dry toast and sipped the room temperature orange juice. She stopped chewing when she heard someone walk across the floor over her head. From the stride she knew it had to be her Master. A pang of longing stabbed through her. Suddenly she missed him so much; it was like a knife in her heart. This time her tears were tears of sadness. The row of windows that let light into her room ran in a narrow band along the top of the wall. Lying on her bed she could see the gray sky. The lack of activity was beginning to wear on her. She had rearranged her closet at least twice, cleaned and dusted using spit and tissues and even found herself on her hands and knees polishing the floor with one of her socks. But her room had already been spotless and she knew there was little point to her obsessive cleaning other than trying to keep her mind occupied, and the senseless repetitive motions held no solace for her now.

She tried to force herself to fall asleep, but even that eluded her. Idly, she slipped her hand down between her legs, retreating into old habits. During her years alone it had always been difficult to sleep and this was one way to silence the sadness and left her in a soft relaxed state that made sleep easier to find. A small nagging voice worried at her, wondering if this was forbidden behavior. She argued with herself that neither Bob nor Donna had said she could not do this.

She lay on her back, her hand moving slowly inside her panties, her mind taking her back to her old fantasy, once again a captive of a band of men, being forced against her will to do things. This time they were forcing her to have sex with another woman. As her orgasm approached she let her eyes drift closed and smiled softly when the face of the woman was Donna's face, she sighed and let the orgasm flow through her.

Still warm and tingling, she kept her fingers pressed against her flesh, easing the last tremors from her cunt. When she opened her eyes, an icy wave of terror erased any pleasure she had felt as she saw Bob standing outside her window looking down at her, a small frown on his face. Junie guiltily snatched her hand out from between her legs. Her eyes sought out his face pleading for forgiveness. When he shook head and turned and walked away, she felt a wave of despair. A deep sob shook her, and then another. Junie huddled on her bed and rocked herself as she wept the deep wracking sobs of desolation.

Her throat was raw and her head aching, but she had no tears left to shed when she heard a soft rap on her door. When she opened it Donna was standing there with another tray. Donna's voice was clipped and cool. "Give me your tray from breakfast."

Junie's fought the impulse to throw herself on the floor. As she handed the tray to Donna, she spoke her voice hoarse from crying, "Thank you, Ma'am." Her voice quivered and cracked. "I am sorry, Ma'am. Can you tell him I am sorry?"

Donna's icy gaze softened for an instant, "He knows."

It was almost dark when Donna came back to her room. "Junie, go take a shower and come upstairs for dinner."

A wave of relief and uncertainty came over her. "Yes, Ma'am." Junie looked pleadingly up at Donna, "Ma'am, are you mad at me?"

Donna tipped her head to one side. "Mad? No, I am not angry with you, Junie. But it is our Master's decision to keep you in your room. It is not my place to speak with you about that." Donna turned and walked away. Junie could not help whispering out loud her second question. "Is he?"

Junie hurriedly showered and brushed her teeth. Suddenly shy and unsure of her welcome, she crept upstairs. When she peeked out of her door she could see Bob seated at the table and Donna moving around the kitchen. A wave of sadness and remorse almost made her turn and flee to her room. The memory of his face looking through the window and her strong intuition that she had violated an unspoken rule when she had indulged in masturbation while she was being punished made her feel sick to her stomach.

She stood frozen in the doorway. Unable to force her feet to move forward and knowing she could not retreat, she stood swaying, her eyes locked on her Master's face looking for some sign. She wanted anything, his anger or his forgiveness, anything would be better than this not knowing what was in his heart.

Donna looked up and snapped impatiently. "Junie, come sit."

"Yes, Ma'am." Junie walked quickly and sat down, trying to shrink into herself, wanting to just disappear. Too afraid to look up, she stared at her plate, her hands clasped and twisting in her lap, blinking back tears.

Donna put a quick meal of venison steak, brown rice and salad on the table. She filled Bob's plate and then her own. Last she served Junie. Junie ate slowly, forcing herself to chew and swallow, not even noticing the flavor of the food as Bob and Donna spoke to each other about their day. When they had finished eating, Junie stood and began to clear the table and Bob spoke to her for the first time, "No Junie, leave that."

A whimper of sadness at being denied her duties made her throat ache. She froze and slowly put the plates back down on the table. Her voice was quavering, "Yes, Master." Again her eyes sought out his face, searching for some clue as to how he was feeling. She flinched back to find him staring intently at her, his expression very thoughtful. The tone of his voice was neutral, "Tell me, Junie, how you are feeling."

A cascade of remorse and fear roared through Junie's body, shaking her, driving her to her knees. Again she found herself completely at the mercy of a storm of tears, deep sobs shaking her whole body. She tried to talk, to speak of her desperate need for his forgiveness, but all she could do was stammer and repeat over and over through her tears, "Sorry, sorry, sorry..."

Bob was still, and she could feel his eyes looking down at her. When her tears waned to a soft series of hiccups, she swallowed and tried again. "I am sorry, Master. I feel bad. I am so sorry that I did not tell you about the time I thought about hurting myself. At first, when we were writing to each other on the internet I did not tell you because I was afraid you would not want me if you thought I was a depressed, suicidal person. And I told myself that that was all in the past and it is. But it did influence how I felt about your words about Monica and it distorted my thinking and behavior towards you."

Junie took a deep breath and forced herself to look up at him and forced out in a quivering voice, "Master, I should not have touched myself like that without knowing I had your blessing to find my own pleasure. I told myself that you had not said no, but in my heart I knew that it was probably wrong and I did it anyway. I was so bored and lonely, but that is no excuse. You spoke of me acting like a child and you are right, I was just thinking about myself." Her voice cracked and broke, "Please, forgive me."

Bob stood quietly looking down at her. When he finally spoke his voice was soft, "And that is the essential quality of a child, being the center of their own universe, seeing everything revolving around them and needing to know they hold that place even in the hearts of their parents."

He turned to walk away. Junie felt another wave of grief threaten to overwhelm her, when he paused, and called back over his shoulder, "Junie, put on some shoes and come with me."

Junie tore down to her room and was back upstairs in less than a minute. She raced out to find him standing looking at the dark sky. Calling to the dogs he strode off and she followed, her shorter legs hurrying to keep up. Bob did not speak, but to just be out of the house walking with him was a balm to her growing fears that she would never be forgiven. A thought spun randomly through her mind, she had never known if her father had ever forgiven her either. Her breath caught in her throat at the realization. Again she was putting the fears and confusions from her past onto her Master.

Her voice was soft as they walked, "Master, may I ask some questions?"

"Go ahead."

"You speak of me acting like a child and you are completely right, but more than that I am not just being generally childish, I seem to be going through a lot of the same feelings and stuff that I experienced as a child. It's like I am regressing almost. And the frightening thing is I am catching myself applying many of the feelings I had about my father to my relationship with you. You are nothing like my father, but I keep reacting emotionally to you, like I did to him. I don't understand why."

"Junie, you do not need to know why you do something to be self-aware and in control of yourself."

Junie felt a wave of frustration that he had not answered her question and ignored the message in his words. "But how can you change it if you don't understand why?"

Bob did not speak for a while and then responded, "Understanding is not always the key to change."

An irrational conviction that Bob knew exactly why and was refusing to tell her seemed to loom up inside Junie and once again she felt that frightening little flash of anger. Her voice was a soft whine, "Why won't you tell me?"

Bob stopped and looked at her, "Tell you what, Junie?"

A flood of emotions seemed to well up inside of her, drowning her. She found herself gasping for air and looking about in a panic. Mindlessly, she turned and took a step away, but then stopped and turned back, forcing herself to stay. She took a deep breath and then carefully exhaled slowly through her open lips. When she could breathe normally again she said, "Master, I don't know what is wrong with me. I feel like I am going crazy."

Bob stood for a while thinking and then took her hand and kept walking. "It is getting pretty dark. Let's head back to the house."

Once they were back inside, and the dogs had settled themselves in their chairs, Junie stood uncertainly looking at Bob, waiting.

When he spoke again, it was a knife in her heart, "Go on back down to your room, Junie."

Her wail of pure rage and grief was loud, "No! Please no! I am sorry." She threw herself on the floor at his feet, wrapping her arms around his legs, pleading. "I am sorry. I will be good. I promise I will be good."

When he pried her arms off from their desperate embrace and turned and walked away she fell to the floor and lay huddled in a ball weeping. It was Donna that came and stroked the hair from her face and spoke in a soft efficient voice. "Come on, baby, let's get you to bed." Junie passively climbed to her feet and let herself be guided downstairs to her room, soft sobs making her jerk and stagger as she walked.

She stood as Donna pulled her clothing off and let her push her into the bed and cover her up. When she turned to go, Junie reached out and grabbed her hand. Her voice was hoarse, "Please, don't go." Donna paused and then sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair. "Sweet Junie, this is hard for me, too. I miss you, too."

"I don't know what I am doing wrong. I want to do better, but it seems like the harder I try to be good the more confused I am getting. I can't stop being angry." A soft sob bubbled up, "And all I can do is cry all the fucking time. I keep getting these irrational waves of rage and frustration and I can't figure out why and when I asked our Master why he would not tell me."

Donna continued to stroke her hair and laughed, "Darling girl, what makes you think he knows the answers to all your questions?"

A sudden wave of awareness washed through Junie and she giggled through her tears, her first giggle in what seemed days. "Oh my god, Ma'am, that's part of it. I am angry because I want him to know all the answers." Her voice softened and became more thoughtful, "And I desperately need to know he will forgive me. For some reason that has been haunting me, that he might never forgive me."

Donna laughed softly, "Junie, as you learn more and get to know us better, you will learn that we are people. You will learn to trust that our Master is a forgiving man, but will not always say the words. He also frequently does not know all the answers and has an endearing, if somewhat infuriating, habit of making broad philosophical statements to cover this." Donna made a wry smile, "He rarely will admit not knowing something."

Junie giggled again and nodded, "Okay, Ma'am, if you say so." She sobered and asked one last question, "Ma'am, how do you keep from getting mad at him? I have been getting mad a lot lately."

Donna shook her head, "Oh, I get mad. It's normal to get mad. But I am thinking that you are dealing with a lifetime of denying anger and finally you are getting confident enough to let yourself feel it and it frightens you a little. And you respond to your anger in a childlike manner. Take some time tonight and think about how you have dealt with feeling angry in the past, think about how you are dealing with it now and finally stop and think about the differences. Last of all stop and think about your duties to us."

Donna pulled her hand out of Junie's and stood. "Sleep, little one, and when you wake up come upstairs and make my coffee. Focus on your duties and stop trying so hard to be good. I need my giggly girl back in my kitchen."

"Yes, Ma'am." Their little talk had calmed her spirit a great deal. She lay for a while and thought about her anger and what Donna had said. She knew that her mother had never shown anger and that displays of temper were strictly forbidden. More often than not, when Junie had been sent to her room as a child it had been for any signs of anger. She sighed as she realized how her mother had systematically trained her to retreat instead of facing and dealing with her feelings. She had learned to deny her anger, but had never learned how to deal with it. A tiny thought of dissatisfaction crossed her mind. This being sent to her room by her Master was just more of the same.

As she lay drifting between waking and sleep Junie felt her body convulse like she was falling, as a realization shot through her. She heaved a big sigh and drifted off to sleep.

You might recognize this story as one I had up in the past, under the titled Northwest Hunters. I took it down for revision and a brief flirtation with possible publication.

Book One of Northwest Hunters, title Joining the Circle is already posted.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please take the time to rate and leave a comment if the spirit moves you.

Enjoy

xantu