Ginny and Jon Ch. 01: Ginny's Journey

"Go fuck yourself, I'm on holiday," I replied, pulling the quilt over my head.

I heard Jon's laugh as he sat on the bed beside me.

"Could I tempt you up with breakfast?"

I poked my eyes out from under the quilt, hiding my smile as I looked at him.

"Is it waffles?"

"Maybe."

"With syrup?"

"Why don't you look?" he said, gesturing to the table and chairs set up by the large window.

I looked over, "Oh shit, ice cream as well, you devil."

I rolled out of bed, rubbing my eyes. I went and sat down.

"Don't suppose there's any chance of clothes today?"

Jon sat there, his blue jeans immaculate, his navy blue shirt a darker shade than his jeans, short-sleeved, collared, untucked.

"Why would I let you be covered?" he replied, smiling.

I stuck out my tongue at him and proceeded to eat. I looked outside the window in amazement. The sun had risen, and there was a stunning orange glow still in the air. I saw deer in a clearing between the house and the trees.

When I was done, Jon handed me a large soft towel, a toothbrush, and toothpaste.

"There are other toiletries in your ensuite," he said, pointing to the door in the corner.

I took them and walked over to the door. I opened it and walked in.

"Sweet mother of fucking Jesus," I yelled out, hearing laughter from outside.

The ensuite was massive. A large claw foot bath held court in the center, the floor wooden, solid, tap fittings gold, the window allowing more of that golden light in the shower in the corner big enough for a football team.

I showered, the water warm, the temperature control so easy to manage, always perfect. As the water cascaded over me, I started to dream once more of being close with that man outside. Each time my dream was interrupted by the memory of walking around naked outside though I felt my arousal escalate. That pure torment was branded into my mind and was making me a mess. It was divine.

I dried myself, brushed my teeth, and walked back into the bedroom. Jon was still there, sat on the bed; he smiled as he saw me.

"Feeling good?" he asked.

"Yes, that shower is amazing."

He jumped up from the bed and walked round to me. Each step closer made my heart skip a beat.

"Come on," he said, "got something to show you."

He took my hand and led me from the room. I squeezed his hand now and again as we walked. Our fingers interlocked, I once read that when you hold hands, interlocking fingers was a sign that you wanted to have sex with the person. I was interlocking the fuck out of those fingers.

"I grew up in this house," he said as we walked along corridors, past paintings on the walls of people who, in some cases, bore a slight resemblance to him.

"It's massive; I bet you had lots of fun with your friends."

"To be honest, friends came much later in my life," he responded as we stopped beside a closed door, "I was homeschooled, and rarely left the estate."

He opened the door and led me in. The room was set up like a classroom. A school desk and chair in the middle, at the front of the room, a giant chalkboard, a large wooden desk for a teacher, and a world globe sat atop that.

"This was school," he said, leading me to the school desk, "take a seat."

I sat at the desk, looking up at him, giggling, "am I about to be schooled?"

Jon turned and walked over to the teacher's desk; he sat on the edge of it, looking back at me. There was a moment of silence.

"Last night, I said, not yet," he said, "when you wanted to have sex."

I looked back at him, taking in his tone, it was stern, a little bit of foreboding settled in.

"Yes," I replied, "I accept that it may take time, that's fine."

"No, I think you need to listen and understand Ginny. You see, what I meant was no sexual pleasure for either of us yet."

"I get that," I responded, confused.

"Did you orgasm last night?"

I blushed, then that little bit of being caught became an angry outburst, "what fucking business is that of yours?"

He stood walking back to me that little bit of anger inside me was making me heat up.

"I just thought you'd want to wait until we were both together before you let that out," he said, looking down at me, a little disappointment in his voice.

The disappointed tone changed my mood again. Suddenly I felt I'd let him down, and I felt a moment of sadness.

"Shit," I said, apologetically, "I'm sorry, you're right, I just got carried away, I lost control."

He took my hand and pulled me up from my seat. He led me over to the blackboard and stood me in front of it. He opened a drawer on the desk; he pulled out a wooden spoon.

"Hold this between your teeth," he said, placing it at my lips.

I stalled for a second, looking at him questioningly, but I did as I was told. He then took out a piece of chalk and gave it to me.

"Write on the blackboard 25 times 'Good girls ask permission to orgasm'."

"Are you joking?" I said, garbled a little by the spoon between my teeth.

"No," he replied, "and if the spoon leaves your mouth, I will erase everything off of the board, and you will start again. And I expect neat, legible handwriting."

I looked at him, then looked at the board, then back at him. I giggled a little at the playfulness of it all and started writing. As I wrote, I heard him moving about behind me, a slight clattering noise as stuff moved. I reached the end of the first line then felt something heavy and wooden come crashing down against my bare bum cheeks.

"Fuck," I yelled, biting down on the spoon, I turned around and saw Jon stood there, holding a wooden paddle.

"Keep going," he said, looking at me sternly.

My hand shook as I reached up, my eyes still fixed on him; I felt a tear roll down my cheek, that blow had stung.

I started writing the next line. "Watch that handwriting," he said.

I tried to steady myself, wincing as I saw that I was reaching the end of the line, dreading what I knew would come next. Sure enough, as I finished the last word, the room filled with the sound of wood on flesh again another explosion in my bum.

I looked back at him, my eyes welling up, trembling.

"Please," I said, the spoon still in place, "please don't do that, please."

"Keep going," he said.

I kept writing, and at the end of each line, another smack to my burning bum. He did ease up a little on the blows, but each one was still felt. My handwriting was barely legible, but he was letting it pass by the time I finished line 25.

"Come," he said, taking my hand. He led me to the corner of the room and stood me facing it, "hands behind your head."

I put my hands behind my head and looked at him. I was still shaking, my face red, my heart pounding, my eyes swollen with tears.

"You let me down," he said, "I want you to stay here in the corner, you are not to move from this position, I will come and get you when I am satisfied that you have learned your lesson."

I watched him walk to the door and leave. As the door closed, I burst into tears. Joanne would say I should be upset due to just being assaulted; I would typically expect to be angry at him humiliating me like that. But no, the tears were for one reason and one reason only. I was upset that I had let him down, and my inner self promised that I would try my hardest not to do that again.

*****************

Time slowed down as I stood looking at the corner. My hands behind my head, fingers interlocked, eyes puffy from the tears I shed. My bum felt like it was glowing.

A non-parent never spanked me. One smack had occasionally landed form a parent. But that had often been followed up by an apology and ice cream. No partner had ever spanked me. I don't know how I would have reacted to it, or even if I did want to incorporate it into my life.

I heard the door open, but I kept my eyes locked on the corner. I felt the ice pack on my swollen cheeks, and when the initial shock subsided, my eyes rolled back at the soothing feeling.

"Have you learned your listen?" Jon asked, inches from my ear, his free hand now on my belly.

His touch was like electricity; my body was trembling with a need I'd never felt before, a need to be with him, to be in his arms, to be his. I felt all that was betraying my usual feminist mindset, but part of me thought my willingness to hand myself over to him was still well and truly in my control.

"Yes," I said behind the spoon, nodding as I did.

He took the spoon and then stepped back, taking the ice pack from my aching rear.

"Down on all fours then."

I looked at him; then, with a little slowness more from the pain, I dropped down to all fours. As he walked to the door, he gave his side a little tap as you would if you were summoning a puppy. I stifled a little giggle and crawled along behind him.

I recognized the route we took, and sure enough, he led me back to my room. The bed was now made, and I noticed a dress draped over the edge.

"Ok, dear," he said, "stand up and get yourself cleaned up and dressed. In about an hour, we're off to dinner. Oh, and I hope you know what to do with what is in the box beside the dress."

He left the room, and I stood up. I walked to the bed. The dress was stunning; I figure knee-length, black with intricate lace sleeves, patterned., besides that lay expensive-looking black panties and a bra. And as he said, a small brown cardboard box.

I opened the box and looked at the item inside, smiling from ear to ear. I'd seen vibrating eggs before on line when a former partner and I had been looking at ways to spice things up. But here was one up close. I giggled a little, my lip between my teeth. I took the egg and reaching down I popped it inside me. I moaned a little at the intrusion and moved about a little bit to get used to it. I then popped it back out.

"Better get cleaned up first," I said to myself. My mood was now a lot better than when I had been standing in the corner. I figured I give him what he wants; then we can look at getting what I want.

I went into the bathroom. I ran a bath, figuring I had an hour, why not relax a bit. There was a fantastic array of bath specific toiletries, and I chose the one that smelt of Scottish heather.

Sinking in, I winced a little as the water hit my bum. It was nowhere near as bad as it was, but was still there as a slight reminder.

In the bath, I dropped down to my shoulders. I relaxed and enjoyed the warm scented water as it surrounded my naked body. I looked up at the ceiling; it looked so far away from me.

I'd grown up in a happy household. Money had never felt like a significant problem; my parents never seemed to bicker about it. My career choice had led me to accept that I may never live in anything more than a small flat, or at best a terrace house with my husband, who would probably be in the same industry as me.

Jon's wealth had never been the draw. Despite some people questioning it, in all honesty, it had not come up until very recently. I knew he was influential in his work, but money had never been on my mind.

After nowhere near long enough, I reluctantly rose from the bath. I dried off and walked back to the bed. Looked at the clock, "shit, five minutes."

I quickly dressed and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked pretty damn good. Looked at the clock, "yes, done," I smiled to myself celebratory. Then looked at the beg.

"Shit, the fucking vibrator," I said to myself, seeing the egg. I jumped across the room and grabbed it, my hand up my dress, knickers pulled aside, I unceremoniously pushed it in just as the door opened.

"Look at you," Jon said, laughing, "still the master of timing."

I blushed and gave him a playful stare. He looked as dashing as I had ever seen him. His suit was immaculate, obviously tailored to him, his shoes polished to the highest standard, his beard trimmed to look neat, his hair perfect.

"Well, don't you just look like a Ken doll," I said, looking him up and down.

He laughed and offered me his arm, I looped mine through his, and he led me out of the room. We walked out the front door. It was nice to be outside and clothed. As always, he opened the car door for me and helped me into the car. I thanked him.

We went in the opposite direction to where the train station was. We drove along narrow country roads. The sun was setting behind the rolling hills, the colors of the world change as the seasons continued to move.

We turned into a small village. Every building looked like it was built a thousand years ago. We pulled up at one, the car park was full, but for one space, it had Jon's name on it.

"Come here often?" I said to him, playfully.

He just laughed and got out of the car. Again, before I could open the door, he already had.

"Ok, I think I'm starting to get used to this," I said to him as I got out, "should I start tipping you as well?"

We both laughed, Jon, shaking his head in a "you fool" gesture.

He led me inside by the arm. The staff fawned over him but barely acknowledged me. We were shown to a table in the middle of the room. Jon pulled a chair out for me, and I sat. He sat opposite, the waiter pulling his chair out for him.

The waiter, like all the staff, was dressed in an elegant suit, his hair immaculate, the look on his face one of refined 'better than most people' arrogance. He spoke with a strong French accent.

"Monsieur Jon, it is lovely to have you back in our establishment, can I get you a drink to start?"

"Yes, if I can get the Belvedere twenty-four-year-old as I like it, please," Jon said.

"Of course, Monsieur, and for her?" he asked, gesturing rudely to me.

"Why don't you ask Madame Ginny yourself, and hide the false arrogance, or I'll have you sent back to the pissant little village that you emanated from."

The waiter looked taken aback as he turned to me.

"Madame?" he said, his tone changed to be much friendlier.

"The same please," I said, smiling at Jon.

The waiter slinked away, and I tried to stifle a laugh.

"You jerk, you nearly made him piss his pants," I said to Jon.

"Mind your language here," Jon said, smiling, "but yes, they sometimes need to be reminded that they are staff here and not lords of the manor."

We perused the menu. It was all in French, which I didn't mind as it was a foreign language I understood. Not conversationally, but at least the general reading.

"Do you know what you will be ordering?" I asked Jon.

"Yes," he replied, "and you?"

"I think so."

"Good, then put the menu down and place your hand's palm side down on the table. You are to move them only when I say, understand."

I swallowed, looking around. This place seemed pretty refined; I wasn't expecting play here.

"Like this," I said, placing my hands on the table as instructed.

"Exactly," Jon said, smiling.

We sat facing each other, I smiled, remaining in position. Jon's hands were hidden beneath the table; suddenly, I heard a small click. A moment later, the vibrator inside me sprung to life. I sat upright in shock.

"Now," Jon said, smiling, "had you taken your time to experiment a bit with that egg, you would have found a place to put it that was more a light tease, away from anything too sensitive down there."

I looked at him, biting my tongue, face flushed, the vibrations already getting to me.

"But, judging by your reaction," he said, in a matter of fact tone, "I'd say you jammed that bad boy right up against your G-Spot."

He ran a finger across the goosebumps that had raised my arm, almost enough to send me over the edge. His other hand was on the remote, he clicked it once, and the vibrations stopped.

I puffed out my cheeks, looking across at him, realizing I was in trouble.

"Timing is something you need to learn to manage Ginny," Jon said as our drinks arrived.

I grabbed the glass and quickly threw the contents back.

"Such a lady," Jon said, shaking his head again as if to tell me I was a fool.

"I'm trying to get numb," I said, glaring at him.

"Are you ready to order food?" the waiter asked.

"Yes," Jon said, "If I can get the steak with the chef's sauce, cooked rare, with the potatoes."

"Of course, Monsieur," the waiter said, turning to me, "and Madame Ginny?"

Just as I was about to talk, I heard the click again, then a second click. The vibrations were harder and quicker this time. My jaw trembled, my hands balling up, my toes curling.

"She'll have the same thanks," Jon said, smiling evil at me.

The waiter smiled at me then at Jon, "of course, Monsieur." The waiter gave me another look as he walked away. Then the vibrations stopped, I slumped forward a bit. I felt the glistening of sweat on my forehead, the goosebumps covering my body, I raised my head slowly to give Jon a dangerous look.

"Are you cold," Jon said a smile from ear to ear, gesturing at my chest.

I looked down to see my nipples pointing against the fabric of my dress.

I sat back and tried to catch my breath; my chest was heaving, my heart pounding. I looked around; people were muttering, occasionally looking at me.

"Please, Jon," I whispered, "please not here, please."

Jon smiled back, "a little too much for you, darling?"

I nodded, "I want to do this stuff, I do, but please, this is so public."

Jon smiled back, not reassuring me it was over, but not with any evil intent.

The food arrived, and I ordered another drink along with Jon.

I was about to eat when Jon looked over, "you know I told you not to lift your hands earlier?"

I thought back and remembered, then nodded.

"Well, you've already disobeyed me twice with the drinks."

"Shit," I said, "I'm sorry it was just..."

"You eat when I tell you."

I looked down at the food that looked so good, then across to him pleadingly. It fell on blind eyes as he tucked into his food. I felt eyes on me as I sat, hands on the table, a hot meal in front of me.

As Jon finished off, he looked across to me. "You may eat all the vegetables now."

I looked forlorn; the steak looked so fucking good. But obediently, I ate only the steamed vegetables and potatoes that surrounded it. As I finished them, I looked back at Jon, who had now finished his meal.

"Hands back on the table," he said.

I did it, squirming on the seat. The vibrator had been quick to arouse me, but Jon's commanding me was working slowly on my psyche and was getting me as worked up but more deeply.

"Are we all good?": the waiter said, looking down at our plates.

"Yes," Jon said to him, "Ginny has just become a vegetarian tonight. Would you like to take the steak home for your dog?"

The waiter laughed, suddenly I realized he knew Jon a little too well. I watched sadly as the massive piece of delicious meat was taken from in front of me.

"What was worse?" Jon asked me, "the spanking or missing out on that delicious steak?"

I glared at him. He paid the bill, no dessert for us, and we both left. As we walked out into the cold night air, Jon took my hand.

"Come, we'll go for a walk," Jon said, leading me across the road.

I followed taking in the fresh air that reminded me of being back at home in Scotland. We walked through a quiet park, barely lit but for the occasional old-style lamp that looked like something out of Mary Poppins. In time we found a bench, Jon sat and looked at me.

"Strip," he said.

My knees buckled as I looked at him, "oh come on, we're out in the open here, this isn't your house."

Jon looked at me, no emotion in his face.

My brain was saying say no, but the words couldn't come out, "please, Jon, please let's just go home?"

Nothing came from him; he just sat back, releasing my hand. I trembled, looking around, my heart almost pounding a hole through my sternum, my chest rising and falling rapidly. My brain was trying to tell me to stop and run away from this man, but my heart was running the show now in cahoots with my libido.