Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Again, Jane’s voice interjects into Storm’s swift considerations. “Bend over this instant, or I will call your parents.”
There’s a brief moment in which Storm’s eyes narrow, and something other than predictable parental fear comes into them. Her expression holds something much more like disdain. She is not afraid of them, but she certainly wants nothing to do with them. She’d mostly forgotten they existed, in much the same way they appear to have forgotten her. She’s not heard from them since she got to Switzerland months ago.
The mere mention of her parents solidifies her rebellion, turns it from something reckless but inherently playful into something darker and much more potentially destructive.
She gives a little shrug, looking Jane dead in the eye with the absolute peace of mind of someone who does not care what happens to them. There is challenge in that stare. She knows this woman won’t know what to do with someone like her. Nobody does.
“I’m going to go now.”
“Stay right there, young lady.” Jane’s tone sharpens, something in it akin to the effects of a Medusa, making Storm freeze even as she pivots back to the door. Her hands, half-pulled out of her pockets while still clenched, shake a few items loose.
A pack of cigarettes falls out of her back pocket, along with a half-eaten bar of Swiss chocolate. She crouches and sweeps them both up quickly before standing up again.
“Smoking?” Jane forms the word tartly.
“There’s vending machines on every corner. It’s legal. Just like mushrooms, if you bothered to look it up.” Storm speaks with casual arrogance that comes from having run circles around every authority figure in her life.
“Mushrooms are not legal, young lady. You can be fined if you are caught with them in your possession.”
“They were never in my possession. They were in my stomach, which is actually technically not even inside my body, because humans are tubes.”
She’s cocky, self-assured, and reckless. Even now, under clear threat of discipline, she still believes she is above it all and immune from consequences.
Jane picks up a paddle. Storm hadn’t noticed that before, though now she doesn’t know how she missed it. If anything, she thought it was a cheese board. The country is full of them. But the way Jane is holding it makes that context unlikely. It is long and wooden, thick and unyielding. It does not look like something one would ever wish to be struck by.
“Pants down, young lady. Bend all the way over the desk. Now.” Jane issues a series of staccato quick instructions in the manner of someone who is accustomed to being obeyed.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am absolutely serious. Pants down. Bend over. Present that bottom.”
A bright red flush appears on Storm’s face. “There’s no fucking way.”
For the first time, she’s not actually being rude on purpose. Her refusal now is one of shock and horror as she finally realizes this is actually real and actually happening. Her eyes widen. She straightens and takes a step back, glancing over her shoulder at the door she came through. She can probably make it…
Jane steps smoothly between her and the door, paddle in hand. A brief shake of her head indicates that is not an option.
Storm glances down, sees the high heels Jane is wearing, and smirks briefly to herself. Jane seems very athletic, but there’s no way to move fast in those things without risking breaking an ankle, and Storm is a cross-country runner who never wears anything but skate shoes. All she has to do is…
Fingers take hold of her ear. She lets out an outraged yowl, but Jane has her now and is marching her to the desk, putting her physically over it.
“Behave yourself. It will be good practice. From now on, you will do as you are told, you will attend classes, and you will refrain from both drugs and cigarettes.”
Storm feels the hard wood of the desk beneath her arms and palms. This is actually happening. Now a different kind of curiosity is beginning to assert itself. Who is this woman? And what is she capable of?
Her pants are pulled down. Her jeans aren’t tight, and the boxers she wears aren’t tight either. In an instant, she is bare. Before she can complain about that, a hard paddle-swat lands on her rear, a sharp and heavy reminder that what is happening is real. The pain shocks Storm out of her curiosity. It is much harder and much more intense than she’d thought it would be.
She’d get up, if not for a hand pressing her immediately back down again, not hard, but firmly enough to remind her where she is supposed to be.
“Fucking Christ, what is wrong with you?”
Jane responds quite calmly, seeming to become more confident now she has Storm where she wants her. “There’s nothing wrong with me. What’s wrong with you, traveling around the countryside, wandering the city like an alley cat, missing your lessons, putting yourself in danger?”