Little Sophie and the Professor Read online

  ---oOo---

  On Saturday, they worked together in the kitchen in preparation for Shona's visit. Jack chopped vegetables and scrubbed baby new potatoes, then seasoned the salmon with lemon and dill before wrapping it in a foil parcel.

  Sophie meanwhile, was working on the cranachan. She made sure to use the exact same ingredients as specified in Shona's recipe book - Scottish raspberries, heather honey, and Jersey double cream. Very soon the tantalising smell of toasted oatmeal filled the kitchen.

  "Something smells good," said Jack.

  "Yes, it's all going to plan. And I found three tall crystal glasses to serve it in."

  "Ideal," said Jack. "Right, I'd better go and fetch her. Will you be okay while I'm gone?"

  "Sure, I'll be fine. I'm enjoying making this." She held up her head for a kiss. His mouth descended on hers and his hand patted her bottom.

  "Right then, princess. I'll see you in about half an hour."

  Sophie smiled and waved him off, then returned to her task. She took the tray of oatmeal out of the oven to cool, then began making the raspberry purée by crushing half the fruit and pushing it through a sieve. The caster sugar went in next. Sophie followed the recipe meticulously, whisking the double cream until just set, and stirring in the honey and whisky, trying not to over-whip the cream. So far, so good. Sophie glanced at the recipe book again. In Shona's handwriting were the words, Taste the mixture and add more of either if you feel the need.

  Sophie tasted. It was sweet but not overly so. But ... she had another little taste - it needed more whisky. She had a little nip herself from the bottle, followed swiftly by another. Then another spoon full of the amber nectar went into the mix, and another went into Sophie's mouth.

  Well it isn't every day I have to cook for my lover's mother, she told herself. Best have another little taste. She swallowed it down. Boy it was good stuff. Funny how she had never before realised how much she enjoyed drinking malt whisky.

  The problem was, when she came to look at the recipe again, the words seemed to dance before her eyes. She stared hard, trying to decipher the writing, but those darn letters just wouldn't keep still. They were almost jumping off the page. She glugged a little more whisky from the bottle then tried again.

  Stir in the oatmeal, it read, and whisk frantically until the mixture is just firm. Sophie whisked frantically then wondered why the mixture was thick as concrete. She looked again. Oh dear - it said whisk lightly not frantically. Ooops. She giggled. What the hell. It wouldn't matter as long as it tasted good. She spent the next fifteen minutes trying to hold her hands steady enough to alternate layers of the cream with the remaining whole raspberries and purée in the serving dishes, making a huge mess as she did so. The final instruction said, Allow to chill slightly before eating.

  "God yes, good advice. I sure do need to chill," said Sophie. "Talking out loud. Am I drunk? Maybe. Feels good though." And off she staggered to the lounge and flung herself on the sofa, leaving the kitchen looking like a bomb site.

  Which was exactly how Jack and his mother found it. Shona raised her eyebrows at the sight. Her son frowned and went to look for the culprit. She was fast asleep on the sofa and snoring loudly, bits of cream and raspberries stuck in her hair, and stinking strongly of whisky.

  "Sophie." He gave her shoulders a shake.

  Sophie groaned and sat up. "Hello Daddeeeee." She giggled.

  Shona raised her eyebrows again.

  "Get up, Sophie. You stink of whisky."

  "Do I? Well I think it smells very nice." She beamed at Shona and Jack.

  "Excuse us for a few minutes, Mother," said Jack as he hauled Sophie to her feet and dragged her off into the kitchen.

  "Of course, dear." Shona hid a smile and sat on the sofa. "I'll watch TV while you two have a little chat."

  "You're drunk, Sophie," said Jack accusingly.

  "Only a leetle bit." Sophie hiccupped. "Ooops. Am I in trouble? I am, aren't I?"

  "Yes you are. I'm making coffee for you, then you can get to work cleaning up this pigsty."

  After two cups of strong black coffee, Sophie felt more like herself. "Sorry, Daddy," she murmured.

  "Oh you will be," said Jack ominously.

  To her credit, Shona never mentioned the incident and acted as though nothing had happened, which Sophie was grateful for. But when Shona took her leave later in the evening, Sophie apologised.

  "Och, think nothing of it lassie. The cranachan tasted good - even if it did taste mainly of whisky." Her eyes twinkled, and Sophie realised they were the same tantalising green as Jack's.

  Jack. He was going to give her one heck of a spanking when he returned from taking his mother home.

  He did too. Reaching out, he grabbed her and hauled her over his knee. She bucked in alarm, and then screeched as she felt his hand descend heavily on her bottom.

  "OW!!"

  He continued spanking her. She wriggled and squirmed.. He simply carried on, and as the spanks continued they became harder and more forceful.

  "Ow! I don't like it!" Her hind throbbed and burned. "I'm sorry!"

  "Is that so?" He lifted her skirt and swatted her over her yellow panties with the daisies on. "Pretty little things - but they're coming down." He yanked them down to her knees and continued with the task in hand.

  Sophie's face suffused with colour and she squealed as the spanks rained down. The unique sound of a hand striking bare flesh filled the lounge, punctuated by her yips and yelps and promises to be good.

  "I'll be soooo good, Daddy," she said in her best little girl voice. It had no effect whatsoever. His large hands felt like iron as they pounded her chubby cheeks, first one side, then the other, and when they were pleasingly pink, he stopped.

  "Stay right there," he barked and left the room, returning with a two-tailed tawse. It was black and shiny and quite thick, part of its length split into two prongs towards the end .

  Sophie stared at it. She hadn't seen it before. "What's that?"

  "A genuine Scottish tawse. And it's going to bite your naughty little bottom. Up you get. I want you bending over the end of the chair."

  Although this was punishment, his words sent a delicious sizzle up and down her spine. She obeyed. She loved his commands and relished her submission to his control. She gripped the soft leather arms of the chair, and thrust out her bottom invitingly.

  She shivered when Jack draped the tawse over her bottom. It felt so cool against her warm skin. He let the implement rest on her bottom for a moment, in a gentle intimate caress. And then 'Thwack!' It burned a line of red fire across her buttocks. Sophie had intended to be stoical, but she shrieked. It was so unbelievably painful. She leapt up and rubbed her bottom.

  "No! Back down. You will take six strokes. And they will be of moderate force. If you move position, we will start all over again. Is that clear, Sophie?"

  "Yes ... Sir." She winced at the fire in her bottom, knowing it was going to get a whole lot worse. The tawse cracked onto her heated flesh, causing her to howl and kick her legs wildly. "Owwwww!" she squealed, and kicked some more. By the fifth stroke, the tears in her eyes were threatening to spill over. They did so on the sixth stroke. Her bottom felt as though it was on fire. She made an inarticulate noise and waggled her bottom from side to side.

  Then relief came in the guise of his big hands moving over the surface of her punished bottom, stroking, rubbing, caressing.

  "You took that well. I'm proud of you," he told her.

  "It hurt. I deserved it," she admitted. "I'm really sorry. The last thing I intended to do was get drunk on your mother's visit."

  "Bad girl," he said, but his voice was kind. "You messed up. You got punished. It's over now." He took her in his arms and they curled up together on the sofa and Sophie sighed in contentment.

  ---oOo---

  The days passed; long, happy, carefree days. They did a few nice walks, and went pony trekking again, which Sophie loved - even all that jiggling up and down on a fre
shly spanked bottom didn't deter her. She also loved to draw, and when Jack finished off his work on the laptop, she was quite content to sketch and colour with the crayons she found upstairs in his old room. One morning she went out into the garden with her sketchbook and pencil. Flinging herself on the grass, she began sketching the outline of the castle.

  "That's pretty good." Jack looked over her shoulder. "In fact, it's better than good. You have a talent."

  "Thank you." She smiled, pleased with her efforts and pleased he liked what she had done.

  "Well, princess, we'll be driving back home again tomorrow. I hope you have enjoyed your stay here."

  "I've loved every minute of it."

  Jack smiled. "I'm just going into town on a quick errand, and I'll pick us up a bottle of something nice, so we can celebrate our last night. Won't be long." He planted a kiss on her cheek and walked towards the car.

  Sophie watched him go, her heart swelling with pride. He was such a good man; a kind man; irresistibly kinky, and she wouldn't swap him for a million pounds. She waved until he was out of sight and then continued her drawing of the castle. She worked hard, adding detail, ensuring the perspective was right. So engrossed was she, she didn't hear Jack return until he sneaked up on her and tickled her ribs.

  "You big sneak!"

  "I'm a mean old Daddy, aren't I?"

  "Yes, but I love you all the same."

  "And I you." He settled down on the grass next to her. "Remember that conversation we had when I talked about settling down one day and raising kids in this old heap of stones?"

  "Uh huh. I remember." With your perfect woman.

  "Would you like kids of your own one day?"

  "Hell yes. Three."

  "Three? That's handy."

  Sophie looked at him, puzzled. "Why is it handy?"

  He glanced up at Kilchurny castle and then directed his gaze back to her. "Because we have four bedrooms; one for us, and one each of the three kids."

  Sophie stared at him for what seemed like forever, and then she spoke. "Wh... er, what? Kids?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Our kids?"

  "Yes. Ours. I got you this." He produced a little box out of his pocket and flipped open the lid. A cluster of diamonds sparkled in the sunlight. "I ordered it three weeks ago in the hope that you'd say yes. Sophie Benson, will you marry me?"

  Time seemed to stop, and then Sophie laughed delightedly. "Yes! Yes, Jack Drummond, I will. Yes please!"

  "Phew. She said yes. What a relief." Jack slipped the ring on her finger, then kissed her lips tenderly. "I'm delighted."

  "Me too! I want to tell the world!"

  "I guess we'd better start with telling my mother."

  "How do you think she'll react?"

  "I think she'll be over the moon. You just wait and see."

  ---oOo---

  He was right. Shona mopped the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief as she hugged and kissed them. "This is the most exciting news ever! I'm thrilled! It's about time you settled Jack, and you've picked the right woman ... a woman who is like me and appreciates a drop of whisky." Her words had them all laughing. "Have you decided on a date yet?" asked Shona.

  "No, we haven't got round to talking about that," said Sophie. "When do you think, Jack? Sometime in the new year perhaps? I'll have finished my last semester by then."

  "Yep, that's feasible. I've been thinking about handing in my notice and moving up here. I have plenty of contacts and could survive quite nicely as a freelancer. And the lounge is so big, I could have a local builder in to modify it, sectioning off the end for use as a home office - big enough for both of us to work in if needs be. How does that sound, Sophie? Would you be reluctant to live here? I won't force your hand."

  "Reluctant?! No way. I'd love it! I really would!"

  "That's settled then." Jack squeezed her little hand tight. "It will give us time to put your apartment and my house on the market. The proceeds will give us more than enough to live comfortably, plus what we earn from self employment."

  "This is marvellous. It will be wonderful to have you both on the doorstep. Kilchurny needs a family living there again. Jack, will you run upstairs and get me my best crystal glasses out of the wardrobe? You'll also find a 50 year old bottle of malt that I've been saving for a special occasion. And this is it!"

  When Jack left the room, Shona turned to Sophie and gave her a hug. "When I visited last week, I heard you call him Daddy. No - there's no need to apologise or say anything. I just wanted to say that whatever sort of relationship you two have is fine with me, providing you love and care for each other. That's what matters."

  "It matters very much," agreed Sophie.

  "Did the laddie give you a good skelping when he got back last week?" asked Shona, her eyes glinting with amusement.

  Sophie looked blank. "Skelping?"

  "Aye - a Scottish word, lassie. Ye'll soon get used to our words and our funny little ways. It means a spanking. Did he spank you?"

  "Er, um ..." Well, there was no point in telling a lie. "Yes he did," admitted Sophie.

  "What did he use? His hand?"

  "To start off with. Then he used a nasty black tawse. Boy that thing really hurt!"

  To Sophie's surprise, Shona chuckled. "Yes, they hurt like the devil, don't they."

  "You mean ... you get spanked too?"

  "Not any more. But in my younger days I got many a skelping from Fraser, my beloved late husband. Jack takes after him in so many ways it seems."

  When Jack returned with the whisky and the glasses, he found the two women giggling in the kitchen, and both refused point blank to let him in on the joke.

  "It's just women's things," said Shona. She poured the whisky. "Let us partake of a wee dram. She held up her glass. "To Jack and Sophie, and a wonderful fulfilling life together."

  "I'll drink to that," said Jack. He clinked his glass against Sophie's. "To us, darling."

  "To us."

  In the many happy years to come, Sophie learned to appreciate a good whisky. Amongst other things...

  Also by Chloe Carpenter...

  Little Lizbet

  Lizbet is pretty and diminutive in stature, a woman who looks much younger than her years. She works as a freelance book illustrator. In her private life she attends BDSM clubs with her friend Chrissie, and learns to embrace her submissive side. But in all her encounters there has been something lacking - which changes when she meets Daniel, a kind and wealthy American living in London. As their relationship develops, she spends weekends at his home where Daniel takes on the role of 'Daddy', a loving carer and disciplinarian. Lizbet loves feeling like a little girl again, and enjoys playtimes, bubble baths and cute clothes, bedtime stories and snuggle time. Although she tries to be good, she has a talent for being bad, and when she breaks the rules, she pays the consequences on her naughty bottom. Diapers, drop seat pyjamas, sippy cups and early bedtimes are just some of the things that Lizbet experiences in this ageplay love story portraying a shared need for D/s. It explores Lizbet's regression and lifestyle shift, and the exciting dynamics of a supportive ageplay relationship between an adult woman and an older man.

  Little Ruthie

  Ruthie has a secret... and a chance encounter with a wonderful older man called Tom enables her to share that secret, connect emotionally with him and accept who she really is - an adult 20 year-old woman who enjoys being a little girl, disciplined by her loving Daddy. Tom rescues Ruthie from an abusive relationship, and during a three-week stay at his cottage on the coast, gives her the opportunity to truly be herself. During this time she acts out some of her fantasies as she relinquishes her insecurities and responsibilities, experiencing some of the carefree activities of childhood - including fun on the beach, donkey rides, cuddles, playing with toys and dressing in cute little girl clothes. So convincing is her little girl persona that the local shopkeeper thinks she is Tom's young daughter. But Ruthie also enjoys a little humiliation and craves discipline - and Tom delivers that
masterfully whenever his little girl breaks his rules. He gives her what she craves within a supporting, nurturing relationship. The power exchange facilitated by Dominance and submission is a key aspect of this story.

  Little Evie

  Evie is a 29 year-old woman but her diminutive stature and her angelic, youthful features make her look far younger than her years. She meets Dylan Draper at a low point in her life and is ecstatic when he offers her a job. Dylan has a strict work ethic - he never enters into a personal relationship with work colleagues - but all that changes with Evie. The two find they both share the same kinky interests and the spark between them grows as they develop an ageplay relationship underpinned by a sensual D/s dynamic and hot sex. Evie submits willingly to this older man who becomes her 'Daddy' and she is subject to his rules and discipline. She spends her weekends with Dylan and dresses as a little girl, appreciating the opportunity at those times to dispense with her adult self and play on the swing, play with toys, and snuggle up for a bedtime story. But it isn't always easy to be a good little girl, and Evie gets plenty of spankings... which together with humiliation aspects, invariably prove to be a huge turn on. They enjoy going to BDSM clubs, and under Dylan's guidance Evie is introduced to all manner of deliciously perverted and sensual pleasures which has her begging for more. Yet not everything runs smoothly. An unpleasant incident at work results in Evie running away, but Dylan comes through for her and shows just how much he cares for his Little Evie.