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.