In the Service of the Wolf: Part XVII


wolf17Part I here

Stacy hadn’t eaten a home cooked meal since she couldn’t remember, although she could have done without the audience. Not that Augusta was unsubtle, but after sitting the writer at the kitchen table with a chicken stew she called a young girl just to watch Stacy while the older woman came and went about her duties.

“You like it here?” Stacy asked the girl.

The young woman just blinked and said nothing.

Kind of creepy, Stacy thought and returned her meal. “Are you one of the family or…?” she continued, looking to her minder for some glimmer of eye contact.

The diminutive blonde across the table chewed at her lip and looked as if she wanted to talk. The pony tail made her look like a high school kid, but Stacy reckoned she must be a little older.

“Were you told not to speak to me?” Stacy asked her.

“No but…” the girl winced and quickly shut up. She looked back at the door in case Augusta was there. “Mr Stone doesn’t like us talking to outsiders. Not usually anyway.” The girl added in a whisper.

“My name is Stacy, you are…?” Stacy tried again.

The girl suddenly looked anxious and was about to complain about Stacy not listening to her when Augusta came back.

“Thank you Keri, you can go,” Augusta told the girl.

It seemed to Stacy that the younger woman could not leave quick enough.

“Good bye Keri,” the writer called after her.

Keri gaped in horror at the implication they had been chatting and then fled.

“One of yours?” Stacy asked Augusta.

“It feels that way sometimes,” the older woman sighed and then added, “You finished?”

Stacy pushed her empty plate away and shrugged an acknowledgement.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Augusta told her. “It’s nice enough, but I have to lock you in.”

“Figures,” Stacy said sullenly.

“Don’t worry, it has its own bathroom,” the matriarch reassured her.

“Thanks for the stew,” Stacy said by way answer, not knowing what else to say. Instead she rolled her eyes and made a popping sound with her lips.

“This way,” the older woman said.

The room was just off the kitchen and looked like it might have been an office once or even a store room. The skylight was tiny and there was no window. The toilet and shower stall was barely a cupboard.

“There are some clothes and toiletries on the bed,” Augusta said, “We will talk more tomorrow.” With that she shut the door and locked it leaving Stacy alone.

“What do you think?” Garrick said from the other end of the hall.

Augusta hadn’t known he was there and startled. Her hands went to her throat but she smiled.

“Sorry,” Garrick laughed. The he frowned and nodded at the door.

“Interesting,” Augusta said, “What does Sundance think?”

“We haven’t really talked yet. Not about this one,” her husband told her.

“This is going to get messy before it gets clean,” Augusta grimaced.

Garrick chuckled at that. “My love, as always, your sangfroid amazes me.”

Augusta closed on him and they hugged. The old man kissed the top of her head.


Adam was in his room slumped in a tattered easy chair that had once been their grandmother’s. As boys John had always envied his brother the old thing. To him it seemed like another example of favouritism and Adam’s elder status.

“Mission accomplished,” Adam said as John entered.

“Yeah,” John agreed, but his demeanour suggested he had something else on his mind.

“You don’t think we should have taken her do you?” Adam asked him.

“Do you?” John shot back.

Adam shrugged.

“What about Alice?” his brother continued.

“What about her?”

“She may be in danger,” John let the words hang and watched Adam’s face.

Although nothing was written there, Adam licked his lips and appeared to consider something.

“You had already thought of that?” John accused.

Adam nodded.

“You care then?”

The two brothers locked eyes and only they knew what was written there.

“I saw her,” John said He waited and when his brother didn’t reply he added, “We…”

Adam’s lip curled.

“Man that girl can take a spanking,” John blurted.

Adam almost smiled as he nodded. “So are you fucking my girl or did I fuck yours?” he said.

John flopped backwards onto Adam’s bed with both hands set behind his head and groaned. “Fuck knows.”


Meanwhile back in town Alice was still confused. Before Pulver if she had thought about red necks at all she would have looked down on them. Now she had not only had sex with two such men, but both of them had spanked her. Spanked her into total submission and she had… Alice swallowed, what, liked it? Her bottom still ached and her face felt molten as she remembered being sent to the corner; nor was that the only place heat touched her.

No not liked. Liked was a nice thing, such as a cup cake or a Yankee candle. Her experience with the Stone twins was more primeval. She thought about an experience with drugs in college. In those heady days she had glimpsed how people got addicted. Reaching down she grabbed at her bottom and firmly cupped both rounds until it hurt. The faint pain thrilled her and she held on to it for a moment. It wasn’t just masochism though, if indeed that figured at all in her feelings.

She thought about the humiliation of being sent to the corner as naughty girl. She should be angry, but she had no choice, after years of bad choices that had been true freedom.

Over and over she reran the events in her mind as her libido ran rampant. Did she love him? Love who? In her mind John-Adam were one and she could scarce remember who did what to her and when.

Alice walked to the mirror and looked at the wild dishevelled creature looking back at her. She was a woman she didn’t recognise in a world that was not as she had imagined. What had Stacy being trying to tell her? Garrick was older than he looked. It was all crazy, but at the back of her mind, something would not let go.

Alice turned back to the mirror and let her rob fall to the floor so that she was naked. Then slowly she turned to inspect the purple-red marks on her bottom. She even leaned forward so that her buttocks thrust backwards and rolled her hips. The bruises were a badge of honour, like she had achieved something and she grinned.

“Crazy,” she sighed, “Everything is crazy. Twins, you screwed two twins girl. Just go with it.”


Stacy awoke with a start and found herself looking at a wooden ceiling. For a moment she traced the grain pattern in the planks with her eyes as if they would lead her to an answer. The room smelt of cotton and pinewood, while somewhere beyond her room she could hear the clattering of dishes.

Then she remembered and sat up. The room was nice enough and she even had her own bathroom. This had to be good. She made frog lips and let them go with a pop. Then she swung her legs out of the bed and satisfied her sudden need to pee.

The next order of business was a long shower while she thought how she could turn the situation to her advantage.

“Okay, so you got in girl, but now what?” she muttered under her breath. She ran her professional check list through her head. One, no immediate danger; if they intended her harm she would either be dead or in chains. Two, eyes and ears; look for evidence. Three, look for a way out.

She barely heard the knock at the door over the running water and whoever it was had to keep knocking several times.

“Miss Dane,” a girl’s voice called, “Breakfast.”

Stacy heard the door lock click and guessed she was free. She hastily dried and pulled on last night’s underwear and clothes. The bra was good enough, but she felt kind of grungy in panties. Maybe one of her new protectors could… then she saw the fresh clothes in a pile on a chair in the corner. Leaving the bra and sweater she stepped out of the panties and pulled on the fresh ones just in time for another knock at the door.

“Miss Dane, please come to breakfast.” It was Augusta and she sounded mad.

“Coming,” Stacy called out. Then with a look around she tried the door handle.

The quiet peace of the previous evening’s kitchen was broken by two dozen faces all turned to her. Ignoring the mute interest she sniffed. The smell was fantastic and suddenly she was hungry.

Half the people seated were men, but only women were serving.

“Sit there Miss Dane,” Augusta pointed to an empty chair.

“Thank you, this looks good,” Stacy smiled politely and nodded at the food.

One of the seated men offered her basket of bread rolls without even looking at her.

“So you all live here?” she asked him.

He swivelled his gaze and then away again without answering. For a long moment she was afraid that everyone was going to sit in silence, but after a few seconds the babble resumed and she was almost forgotten.


Breakfast ended quickly. One minute there was an army scraping plates and exchanging banter then as if a factory whistle had gone off somewhere all the men departed and the women descended like locusts to clear the table.

“That was good thanks,” Stacy said once everyone but Augusta had gone.

The older woman smiled in acknowledgement. “More coffee?” she offered.

Stacy, who could never say no still had a full cup. She held it up in salute and shook her head. “I’m good thanks.”

Augusta drew up a chair and sat across the table from her guest.

“I won’t ask you what you are doing here. In Pulver I mean. Garrick will get around to that. But where did you come from?” Augusta asked.

“All over,” Stacy said simply. “I was born in New Orleans would you believe. After that we moved to Arizona and then New Mexico. I just about remember that. As soon as I was old enough I skipped out and went to New York. I have lived there ever since. Well mostly.” She spoke as if reading the back of a cereal packet as if her story had nothing to do with her.

“New Orleans,” Augusta sounded interest. “You’re family are from there?”

“My mom? No,” Stacy shrugged. “She was just there working as a waitress when I came along. I never knew who my father was.”

“You and your mother still in touch?”

It was an odd question and Stacy wondered why she wouldn’t be. She maybe saw her once every other Thanksgiving and then there were birthday and Christmas cards. “Sure,” Stacy said, “She lives in California now.”

“And you never married?” Augusta asked casually.

“What and break a family tradition? Besides I roll with whoever takes my interest, if you know what I mean,” Stacy arched her eyebrows as if she expected Augusta to be shocked.

“I suppose you have time yet,” the matriarch said pleasantly, “And you have achieved so much in such a short space of time.”

“I have?” Stacy looked puzzled.

“You have written books I hear,” Augusta tried to sound impressed.

“Yeah well…” Stacy wished they had sold better.

“How old are you?” Augusta guessed at early 20s, but there was something about the eyes.

“This old gal is pushing 30,” Stacy said sadly, “Well 27 anyway; next birthday.”

Augusta nodded without surprise.

“You thought I was younger,” Stacy yawned. It wasn’t a question.

“You act like it,” Augusta said sharply.

“Yah,” the woman drawled, “I get that a lot. Is that why you threatened to spank me?”

Without answering Augusta weighed the young woman up and tried to see something in her face.

“You remind me of my Mom,” Stacy snorted. “She was a spanker and how. My house my rules, she would say.”

“That why you left?” Augusta.

“I guess not. I got tired of running from everything and decided to run to something,” Stacy told her.

“Your mother was on the run?” Augusta asked.

Stacy shrugged. “Not exactly, I mean not from anything real. She just couldn’t settle, you know?”

Augusta stood up and gathered the coffee things. “Did you sleep alright? A big change from New York?”

“I did thanks, I don’t always,” Stacy confided in.

“Insomnia?” Augusta stopped what she was doing and watched the woman carefully.

“Na,” Stacy shook her head and crinkled up her nose, “Bad dreams sometimes.”

Augusta made a sympathetic face and changed the subject. “You haven’t asked about the rules?” The older woman said as she put the coffee down on the side and slid the cups on top of the dishwasher.

“Should I?” Stacy yawned again and made a frog face.

“You stay in the house and after today you do your share of the chores,” Augusta told her.

“I’m your prisoner,” Stacy shrugged.

“No, you are Garrick’s prisoner. To me you are just another mouth to feed. No offence. Oh and I meant what I said. You may be older than most of the other girls, but I don’t want any cussing.” Augusta gave the girl one last hard look and then moved away.

“What chores do I…?” Stacy called after the woman, but she was gone.

To be continued

No Responses Yet to “In the Service of the Wolf: Part XVII”

  1. Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: