Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
D ylan
I was halfway through my second cup of coffee, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, when the New Modesty app chimed with a new arrival alert. I almost failed to tap on it: I had to get back out to make sure the robot combine had updated its firmware. Andrea’s picture, though—something about the look in her blue eyes, a spark of ambition, even of defiance—in the thumbnail image that popped up on the alert refused to let me just scroll past.
When I tapped through to Andrea’s profile for a better look, I saw it more clearly. Andrea Jacobsen . My breath caught in my throat a little as I studied her image. She had shoulder-length blonde hair that looked like it would shine like spun gold in the sunlight. But it was those eyes that truly captivated me—deep blue and filled, yes, with a simmering challenge that both intrigued and, frankly, concerned me.
As vice president at Devin Weathers’ automated farm, I had access to the profiles of all the girls in the Weathers household, just as I had access to their bodies from time to time. It was a privilege I tried not to abuse, but something about Andrea compelled me to dig deeper.
I tapped on her profile, eager to learn more about this intriguing newcomer. The standard information was there—age nineteen, height five foot five, weight one hundred twenty-five pounds—but it was the notes section that made my eyebrows rise. There I found a stark message: “To be spanked upon arrival for attempted escape.”
My mouth crooked into a smile as I read those words. I could picture it very clearly, having seen it more than once before when Lila or Lydia had gotten into trouble—the offender bent over Devin’s knee, her bottom bared, her face flushed with shame and the unwelcome arousal so many girls felt when they paid the traditional price of feminine misbehavior.
I set my phone down, my coffee forgotten as I gazed out the window at the sprawling fields beyond. The wheat swayed gently in the breeze, golden waves stretching to the horizon. It was a peaceful scene, its serenity rather different from the stirring I felt inside.
I had no doubt that Andrea’s punishment was necessary. If she’d done something to earn a spanking on her very first day, she clearly needed firm guidance to help her adjust to her new life. Part of me felt sorry for her, though, at the same time. New girls had a hard enough time getting adjusted to Cato, even when they didn’t have to face their elder’s justice as soon as they arrived.
I picked up my phone again, studying Andrea’s photo more closely. There was something in her eyes beyond the defiance, I thought—as if vulnerability and strength had mingled in her heart—and it called to me. I found myself wondering what her voice sounded like, what made her laugh, what dreams and ambitions she’d had before coming to Cato.
As an associate of the Weathers household, I had the right to request a date with Andrea. If we hit it off, I would have the chance to guide her, to mentor her… and yes, to discipline her myself if needed. I felt my cock start to swell along my thigh, and I knew what I had to do. I tapped out the message to Devin before I headed out to check the combine.
Hey, boss! Can I come over for dinner tonight?
Punishments in the Weathers household took place after dinner. To ensure that the miscreant felt as much embarrassment as possible about her naughty conduct, everyone present witnessed her correction.
Sure thing, Dylan , came the reply, as I walked out across the field. I think you’ll like Andrea. There’s a good girl in there struggling to get out.
Andrea
Thankfully the ride in Devin’s pickup truck from the center of Cato to the development where the Weatherses lived only took five minutes or so. Devin told me about the town’s history, but I couldn’t seem to retain any of that information; the mere sight of his enormous, callused right hand on the steering wheel set my heart racing.
The truck rumbled to a stop in front of a charming two-story farmhouse. Its white clapboard siding gleamed in the late afternoon sun, and cheerful red shutters framed each window. A wraparound porch, complete with a porch swing, gave the house a welcoming air that belied the anxiety churning in my stomach.
As Devin cut the engine, the front door swung open. Three women emerged, descending the porch steps with graceful, measured movements. My breath caught in my throat as I realized this must be Greta Weathers, along with Lila and Lydia, the other girls living in the household.
Greta was a striking woman in her mid-forties, her blonde hair neatly styled and her curves accentuated by a modest floral dress. Her warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, but there was a firmness in her gaze that made me instinctively want to stand up straighter.
Flanking her were two younger women, both stunningly beautiful in their own ways. One had long chestnut hair that fell in soft waves down her back, while the other’s auburn locks were plaited into an intricate braid. They wore identical powder-blue dresses that fell just below the knee, cinched at the waist with white sashes.
As Devin opened my door, I stumbled out on shaky legs, suddenly very aware of my city clothes—a knee-length skirt and blouse that had seemed perfectly modest this morning, but now felt scandalously revealing.
“Welcome, Andrea,” Greta said, her voice warm but authoritative. “We’re so pleased to have you join our household.”
I mumbled a thank you, my cheeks burning as I felt everyone’s eyes on me. Greta turned to the two younger women. “Lila, Lydia, please show Andrea around the house and then take her to her room. Make sure she changes into proper clothing.”
The girls nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.
As they led me into the house, I couldn’t help but feel impressed by its interior. Sunlight streamed through large windows, illuminating polished hardwood floors and walls adorned with tasteful artwork. The air was filled with the comforting scent of freshly baked bread and something floral—lavender, maybe.
Lila and Lydia guided me through each room, their soft voices explaining the function and rules of each space. The kitchen gleamed with modern appliances, while the living room boasted big sofas and a large fireplace. A formal dining room held a long table that could easily seat twelve.
As we entered the living room, my eyes were immediately drawn to the large stone fireplace that dominated one wall. The mantelpiece above it was adorned with family photos and decorative knick-knacks, but there was one item that stood out starkly against the homey backdrop.
Hanging from a brass hook was a long, thick strip of dark leather. It was about two feet long and maybe two inches wide, with a wooden handle at one end. My tummy flipped as I realized what it must be. The family strap Mr. Weathers had mentioned in the rules.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. The leather looked well-worn and supple, its surface gleaming dully in the afternoon light. I could almost feel its weight, imagine the sting it would impart when brought down on bare skin. A shiver ran through me, equal parts dread and an unwelcome anticipation I pushed away immediately.
“What’s that?” I heard myself ask, so softly I could barely hear myself. I knew the answer, of course, but some part of me needed to hear it confirmed.
Lila and Lydia exchanged a glance, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and resignation.
“That’s… well, that’s the family strap,” Lila finally said, her voice soft. “Mr. Weathers only uses it for serious offenses.”
Lydia nodded, adding, “It’s not something you want to become acquainted with, believe me. A regular spanking is bad enough, but the strap…” She trailed off, shuddering slightly.
I swallowed hard, unable to look away from the implement. “How… how often does he use it?” I asked, morbid curiosity overriding my better judgment.
“Not very often,” Lila assured me quickly. “Maybe once a month, if that. And only for really serious infractions.”
“Like what?” I pressed, even as part of me screamed to change the subject.
Lydia bit her lip, considering. “Well, last time… I… well, I snuck out to meet a friend in town. Mr. Weathers said it was dangerous and disrespectful.”
I nodded mutely, my mind racing. Would my attempted escape back in the city be considered serious enough to warrant the strap? The thought made my knees weak.
“Come on,” Lila said gently, sensing my discomfort. “Let’s go upstairs and get you settled in your room.”
As we left the living room, I couldn’t help casting one last glance at the strap. It hung there innocuously, but its presence seemed to fill the entire room. A silent warning, a promise of consequences for those who stepped out of line.
I followed Lila and Lydia up the stairs, my legs feeling like lead. The weight of my impending punishment pressed down on me, made all the more real by the sight of that strap.
They led me up the polished wooden staircase to the second floor. The hallway was lined with closed doors, each bearing a small brass nameplate. My heart skipped a beat as I noticed one that read ‘Andrea.’
“This is your room,” Lila said softly, opening the door.
I stepped inside, my eyes widening as I took in my new living space. The room was small but cozy, with pale blue walls and white curtains framing a large window that overlooked the sprawling fields beyond. A narrow bed with a patchwork quilt occupied one corner, while a simple wooden desk and chair sat beneath the window. A tall wardrobe stood against the opposite wall.
“It’s… nice,” I managed.
Lydia moved to the wardrobe, opening its doors to reveal a row of modest dresses in various pastel shades. “These are your new clothes,” she explained. “You’ll need to change into one of these right away.”
I ran my fingers over the soft fabric of a pale yellow dress, my stomach churning. “Do I… do I have to wear these all the time?”
Lila nodded. “Except on Saturdays, if you’ve behaved well. Then you’re allowed to wear pants.”
As I stared at the dresses, a thousand questions bubbled up inside me. “What exactly are we being… I don’t know… trained for?” I asked, turning to face the other girls. “The app mentioned something about becoming… you know… submissive brides?”
Lila and Lydia exchanged a glance, as if they felt hesitant to fill me in.
“That’s right,” Lydia said finally. “We’re here to learn how to be proper wives and homemakers. To serve our future husbands and maintain an orderly household.”
I felt my face grow hot. “But… but what about our own dreams? Our careers?”
Lila placed a gentle hand on my arm. “This is our career now, Andrea. Our purpose. It takes time to accept, but… it can be fulfilling, in its own way.”
I shook my head, struggling to process this information. “How long have you been here? Do you… do you like it?”
“I’ve been here for eight months,” Lila said. “Lydia for almost a year. And… yes, we’ve come to appreciate this life. It’s not always easy, but there’s comfort in knowing your place, in serving others.”
Lydia nodded in agreement. “The hardest part at first is the discipline. Mr. Weathers is strict, but fair. If you obey the rules and show a willing spirit, you’ll be fine.”
I swallowed hard, remembering the strap hanging in the living room. “And… and what if I don’t? What if I can’t adjust to this?”
Lila’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Then there will be consequences,” she said simply.
Lydia hastened to elaborate, as if she thought it would help. “The only really difficult part is being available to the associates, while you don’t have an accepted suitor.”
I blinked wide eyes at both of them.
“Available? To… to who?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart pounded in my chest and a terribly unwelcome heat seemed to creep all over my body as my mind tried to grasp what they meant.