The Holiday Scare

"I will, Detective Montoya. Thank you."

~*~

On the way back home Sarah became aware that she was a bit numb and completely overwhelmed by what had just happened. So, she drove more carefully than she usually would. She put the car on the parking deck, went up to the Penthouse and called security to tell them that she was back and that everything was alright.

But was it? Looking at it rationally, yes. She was unharmed though someone had attacked her from behind. The man was in jail and probably would not get out any time soon. But if she had taken one of the guards with her to the shelter that man would not have dared attacking her - and a serial rapist would still roam the streets.

Sarah called herself to order: Nothing had happened; she was safe and her city had also become a tiny bit safer. A tiny part of her wished that she could just mix herself a stiff drink, if only to keep her mind from wandering and speculating. The worst part was that there was an assortment of Single malts and an old Brandy in one of the kitchen cabinets. Her Mistress kept them on hand for unexpected visitors who did not know of the non-alcoholic nature of their household. In stead of mixing herself a drink Sarah went over to the kitchen and prepared a hot chocolate with a bit of cinnamon and chilli, just like she loved it.

She held the mug with both hands and sipped slowly from it. She felt the heat permeate her whole body and only then became aware that somehow she had been chilled to the bone. And sitting here in the quiet of this at the moment mostly empty apartment did not help to give her other ideas. So, she got up and called an old friend in Los Angeles. Maggie had just gotten tenure as a professor for theoretical Physics. She was happily married to a linguist also teaching at UCLA. They had two children, a boy of six and a little girl of four and were as Vanilla as one can be. Maggie was also very open-minded; she had been one of the few people to know about Sarah's vague fantasies of being dominated before she had met Mistress Rebecca. Maggie knew her well enough to hear that something was not as it should be with her friend. They talked for over an hour and Sarah felt much better when she hung up.

Sarah looked at the wall mounted clock in the kitchen and decided to go to bed when she saw that it was already half past twelve. She got ready and snuggled under the down comforter and instantly missed her Mistress' warm presence. Sarah fell asleep. After a while she woke up with a start. Her nightgown was soaked through with sweat; she was trembling and the images of her dream were still vivid in her mind. She was shivering and went to take a hot water shower. She let the steaming water cascade over her head and shoulders, making it as hot as it would go and she could stand it. Finally, the trembling and shivering stopped. Sarah started to feel better: Everything was alright. She was safe in their Penthouse apartment, the rapist was in police custody, and the fearful and badly abused young women of her dream were nothing more but a product of her overactive imagination.

Sarah wrapped herself in a terrycloth robe and a fluffy towel. She went to the living room took the blanket from the back of the couch and snuggled down with it. She considered activating the TV if only for the background noise but instead chose one of her Christmas play lists on the Stereo. She fell asleep. This time her dream was more detailed but it flowed along the lines of so many stereotypes that she simply could not see it as anything but her mind's way of dealing with could-have-beens: There were four young women, naked and shivering in a dark, damp cellar-like room. Their bodies were covered in lash and bite marks, some of the wounds were bleeding. Two of them were wearing a cruel gag, the others were crying quietly. It was unreal. She woke up; more annoyed than afraid this time.

If Rebecca had been home she would have taken her in her arms and her touch alone would have chased away all those fancy, dark, and disturbing thoughts. Sarah laughed at herself; it was a humorless laugh. She got up, entered her home office and checked her email-accounts. There were a few mails with Holiday wishes she answered cordially. A young grad student asked if she would be willing to publish her thesis on the early works of the famous sculptor Jacqueline DeNorlan. Sarah answered that she was not in the habit of accepting academic texts, but that she would consider to make an exception if the thesis was well-written and not too academic in tone.

That done she started to browse her favorite internet sites and blogs. As expected before and during the Holiday season there were rather slim pickings and she was done quickly. Sarah returned to the living room and looked through their DVD collection. Unsurprisingly she did not find anything that fit her mood. Finally she decided on an audio CD with classical Christmas music. Unasked her thoughts returned to the attack and she started to ponder what-ifs. What if Detective Montoya and the others had not left the shelter in time? What if she been subdued and abducted by that man? What if she had taken one of the security guards with her? What if ---.? She came up with more and more dire scenarios, in which she was one of the women in that dungeon/cellar, as helpless and scared as they were, but secure in the knowledge that if in any way possible her Mistress would find and rescue her.

Sarah soon came to the conclusion that she had acted irresponsibly by going to that shelter alone. It had been as negligent and potentially self-harming as driving without a seatbelt or texting while driving. Both were offences which invariably brought out the cane as punishment or part of the punishment. Her Mistress knew no tolerance at all when her beloved submissive put herself in danger accidentally or deliberately. It did not take long for Sarah to grow convinced that she deserved to be spanked and then caned and then spanked some more and to be locked up in a hard unyielding cage far from the comfort of her Mistress' arms and forgiveness. She came up with a whole plethora of punishments for not having brought a bodyguard, one more severe than the one before. She knew she did not deserve any better. She did not deserve to be loved by someone as wonderful as her Mistress.

At this point of her self recriminations Sarah wrapped the blanket around her still robe-clad body and slid on the floor. Someone as bad as she did not deserve to use the couch. She was about to curl in a ball on the floor when the front door opened and her Mistress came home.

"Sarah, darling, why are you still up? I thought I told you not to wait up for me? What happened?"

"I have been very bad, Mistress. I endangered myself. I have to be punished harshly. Put me over the spanking horse and use a cane on me and the lexan paddle and a carpet beater. Punish me. Make me pay, Mistress."

Rebecca had crossed the distance to the couch and pulled Sarah in her arms.

"Calm down, my sweet love; you're in hysterics. You're hyperventilating. Calm down and tell me what happened from the beginning. And, sweetling, I do not want you to put yourself down. Tell me what happened and what you did as if you were talking about someone else. Sit on my lap and take a deep breath: in, and slowly out; in through the nose and slowly out through the mouth, again; in and slowly out. Yes that's better; go on and relax and only when you're calm, you'll start telling me."

Sarah put her head on her Mistress' shoulder and focused on her breathing. She felt herself calm down and relax but she was not yet ready to talk about her evening and night.

"How was your night, Mistress? Anything special?"

"You're trying to distract me, Sarah. We were not as busy as I had feared, no multi-car pile-ups and only one accident caused by a drunk driver. And that's all the procrastination I'm ready to allow. Tell me what's wrong and why you think you need to be punished."

Sarah then told Rebecca how she had gone to the shelter and that she had refused to take a bodyguard. She told her about giving away the eggnog and the cookies and about talking with a few of the street people. She told her about the attack and her fight with her assailant. She told her about Detective Montoya and her attacker being arrested. Then she told her about returning home and her strange dream and her feeling of guilt. Everything she said was shaded in a way to show herself and her actions in the worst possible light. Luckily for her Rebecca knew her beloved wife pretty well and her tendency to exaggerate when she felt guilty.

Sarah ended her report with the words, "And now, Mistress Rebecca, you see that I have to be reprimanded harshly and have to be put in my place. Please take me to the play room and give me a full body whipping with the single tail whip and then punish my breasts and buttocks with the cat-of-nine-tails and use the thick cane on the soles of my feet and lock me in the cage suspended from the ceiling without putting the floor boards in for at least two nights. Please, Mistress."

"You really think that this is what you deserve, Sarah-mine! You think you should be treated as if you had deliberately broken all of my rules. You really want to suffer for your actions."

"Yes, Mistress. I was really bad; I need to be punished."

"Alright, little one. I'll give you what you deserve. If you have to go to the toilet do it now. I want you to go in our play room and wait for me in the corner. Get on your knees, Cross your legs at the ankles and put your hands on your head, palms up and finger intertwined. Wait for me until I tell you to move and do not even think of modifying your position even a tiny bit."

"Yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress."

"Thank me when your punishment is over." Rebecca's voice sounded cold and threatening and Sarah had no doubt that her punishment would be exquisitely painful, just as she deserved.

~*~

Kneeling in the shaming corner, though her Mistress called it corner of enlightenment and patience, Sarah tried to keep track of the time she had to wait for her Mistress. She counted the seconds. Sixty and then again sixty, and sixty, and sixty, and sixty, and another sixty, and then she lost count. She had no idea that Rebecca had only made her wait for less than fifteen minutes. Rebecca had used Detective Montoya's calling card on Sarah's desk to find out if the police had already more information about her wife's attacker and his actions. She only had been able to speak to Detective Montoya's partner, Detective Beckett. Montoya was in the interrogation room with their perpetrator. Aaron Beckett only could tell her that his partner was full of praise over Sarah's actions and that she had been instrumental in his arrest.

Rebecca entered the play room where Sarah was waiting in the corner. She walked over to their built-in equipment cabinets and rummaged around. She knew that from her position in the corner Sarah could not see what she was doing; she also knew that Sarah would not break her assigned position until she told her to do so. Rebecca stood at the foot of the big, sybaritic bed of their play room; her feet shoulder wide apart, her hands hidden behind her back and a stern expression on her face.

"Young lady, get up and come here. It's time to pay the piper." Sarah flinched a bit at her Mistress' harsh words, but stood up, turned around and as soon as she saw her Mistress she sank back down on her knees and crawled over to her. She sat back on her heels and looked up at her Mistress, waiting for her to announce her sentence. Rebecca's gaze was cold, calculating and reprimanding.

"Sarah Garner-Eriksson you accused yourself of deliberately having endangered your life by not letting one of the security guards escort you to the shelter. To pay for your transgressions you proposed to be thoroughly whipped and locked up. After careful deliberation I have decided that you did not deliberately endanger yourself. You had no way of knowing that a dangerous predator was roaming the area close to and around the shelter. And when you were attacked you acted thoughtfully and employed all the means available. And by bringing and having the nerve to use the pepper spray you also took every precaution you legally could.

"You did well, little one. As your Mistress I have decided that you will not be punished. You also were lucky that reinforcements came just moments before you really would have needed them. You only had a crash course in the basics of self-defense. That's something we will have to rectify in the near future. I love you. I want you to be safe, always. I would be happy if you'll never again get into a situation where you'll have to defend yourself, but should it ever happen again I want you to be better prepared. And now, get up and come in my arms."

Sarah obeyed but before Rebecca could pull her in an embrace she took a step back and asked, "Are you sure, Mistress? Just think about what could have happened; you just have to agree with me that this deserves a hard, painful and prolonged punishment."

"No, darling. I refuse to act on what-ifs or be spooked by them. You did nothing wrong, but if you insist on being punished for something beyond your control, you're starting to skate on very thin ice, and I just might have to spank some sense in your uppity little butt."

"But, my stern, beloved Mistress, my Rebecca, if I did nothing wrong then why do I feel this guilty?"

"Because, my Sarah, you spent too much time thinking about what happened and what could have happened. It has seriously clouded your judgment. You see shadows where are none and your dreams are invaded by fears you can't control. Stop thinking about things you cannot change and stop fearing those you can't change or know. What happened today has been really frightening, Sarah-mine, but it's in the past. You were scared and you had every right to be, but it's over now."

"You know what, Doctor Eriksson? I love you. You always know what I need better than I do. Being held by you feels so much better than being whipped or spanked. It makes me feel safe and right and loved."

"So, do you still think that you should be punished?"

"Maybe, but what I think about that is not important. I'm yours to command. Your decision is the only thing that counts. And I'm very thankful that you do not want to see me suffer at your hand tonight. Thank you, My Mistress."

"Sarah-mine. If you had not inherited a publishing company, with your way with words you might have become a famous author."

"Oh, Mistress! You're such a flatterer."

"I'm only expressing facts, Sarah, nothing more, and now, let's go to bed. It's already closer to morning than to night. We both have earned some rest and sleep."

"Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry if I have kept you up longer than you wanted."

"I'm not, and if I had really wanted to go to bed you would not even have tried to make me change my mind. You're such a good, obedient submissive."

~*~

It only took Rebecca five minutes to get ready for bed. Sarah removed the terrycloth robe and slid into bed next to her wife. She closed her eyes and snuggled against Rebecca's side. A tiny part of her wanted to lick her Mistress to orgasm and then fall asleep, but she knew that Rebecca would have said something if that were what she wanted. She would have simply given her an order. It did not take them long to fall asleep. This time Sarah's rest was not disturbed by bad dreams. She was convinced that only the warmth of Rebecca's body next to her and the knowledge that she was safe and loved had kept the bad images at bay.

The morning of Christmas Eve came with a ray of sunshine streaming in through the window. Sarah was still snuggled against Rebecca's side, apparently not having moved much over the night. Rebecca's eyes were still closed. And her breathing rhythm indicated that she was not yet awake. Sarah started to move and soon disappeared under the comforter. She found a convenient place between her Mistress' legs and kissed her inner thighs, first the right side and then the left. Those intimate ministrations woke Rebecca up, but she stayed still, waiting what her beloved submissive would do next. She was very relieved to see that Sarah's playfulness had returned over night. It was a good indicator that last night's trauma had not affected her unduly. The doctor shouted Sarah's name when she came after Sarah had turned her attentions from her thighs to her sex. Tending to her Mistress had made Sarah wet but Rebecca had decided that she would have to wait for Christmas night for her next orgasm at least.

Finally, it was time to get up. They went over to their gym room and followed their usual routine. Then they took a shower, Rebecca prepared breakfast, Sarah cleaned up after they were done and gave her Mistress a steaming kiss when she left for work. Only a few minutes after Rebecca had left Detective Montoya called and asked her if she could come over to the Twenty-first Precinct to give her statement. Sarah told her that she would be there in about forty-five minutes.

At the precinct Carol Montoya told her that her attacker, Asim Jalliri, was a registered sex offender, and after hours of questioning, provoking and goading him he had finally made a full confession. He had admitted that over the course of the last three months he had abducted eight women from all over town; three of them had already been sold off to the highest bidder by Raymond Barkman, his co-conspirator, who was also the one holding the women captive. At the moment Detective Beckett and a SWAT team where at the address Asim had given them. They hoped to free the women and find more evidence.

Sarah looked at the pictures of the Missing women Carol showed her but they did not even have a fleeting resemblance to the young women she had seen in her dreams. Sarah was not sure if she found that worrying or reassuring. She signed her statement. Carol told her that she probably would be called as a witness during Jalliri's trial. With the statement out of the way there was no reason for her to stay at the precinct but Sarah wanted to hear it first hand when the women had been rescued and if her attacker's accomplice had been apprehended. So, she stayed and accepted the coffee Carol offered her.

While waiting for news from SWAT the women talked. Carol told Sarah that in this case they had been in luck twice and that luck was something on which they usually could not count.

"I get that your first stroke of luck has to do with my use of the pepper spray but I guess that that's not all."

"Actually, your involvement was the second time in this case we got lucky. The young woman who was with me last night was one of his victims last week. She also volunteers regularly at the shelter. Jalliri knocked her down and raped her and then he threatened to take her from behind and add her to his collection. At that moment her husband came to pick her up; Jalliri ran off and he brought his wife first to the hospital and then to the police to press charges against a so far unidentified assailant. Veronica is a wonderful witness. With the both of you the case should be a slam dunk."

"So there will be no problems with the pepper spray?"

"No, luckily, the use and purchase of pepper spray for self-defense is not illegal where we live. One state over it would have created a paperwork nightmare, but here it does not. I have some on me as well when I'm not on duty and without my service weapon. It gives me at least the illusion of not being helpless."

"And I thought Police officers were all martial arts experts."

"Experts? No. They teach a few tricks at the Academy, but if push comes to shove that might not be enough. I didn't have any bad experiences but I know of female Detectives who were not as lucky. Let's change the topic this gets too depressing."