Cheeky's Legacy

Baggins, David & Teddi - Cheeky's Legacy [Avidbook, MF Contemporary, Erotic Fantasy, Science Fiction, b**m Romance] Day One “Its other name is Spanktown” Lilly read aloud bits of the online article. Seated in the passenger seat, she shouldn’t be playing on her phone. Dan, her husband and driver, had a rule that the front passenger is an important role in a long drive. Excessive social media, he read, might be bad for her depression. Today, he ignored the phone surfing. “Not their real name.” Dan so wanted her to arrive with positive energy for the encounter just ahead. “The article admits that, but still the S name seems to fit.” She pushed away strands of her soft strawberry-blonde hair, pouting disapproval of the text naming the place a dump. “And look here” her voice rose an octave. “On a moonlit night, the whole community turned out to witness when the resident artist positioned five submissive bottoms tethered across a bamboo pole. They were precisely arranged by tone, soprano to base. The massage therapist oiled and stroked the behinds until they purred with peak receptiveness. A percussionist stood behind them with a paddle and played the presented orbs, obtaining a vocal serenade for the entranced and appreciative community.” “You know you can’t believe everything on the Internet,” he offered. “How likely is that?” Lilly put down the phone and retreated into herself. She did that a lot. Dan continued driving their Volvo along the leafy oak treed route. He waited for a straight, clear road and stole a glance, seeing her beauty and sorrow, now almost one. Could the “True Love Center for Human Growth” help? It had a lot of names and now a little press, but he knew little of it. Most of what he knew about the Center came from long, fun chats on a website. He met a vivacious woman, screen-named ‘Cheeky.’ Together they explored his s****l needs and her extraordinary life. Then she went silent. A month later he got a letter on the alt.erotica site. Her husband wrote that she had passed after a brave fight. He read their private conversations and offered to further communicate if Dan and others so desired. He told them about the Center. Dan waited a few months. Lilly kept slipping further as news of their third miscarriage was coldly explained as reason to conclude that further medical help was unlikely to result in the birth of a precious child. During this troubled time, notes strangely appeared on his computer. They sounded just like they were coming from Cheeky. Dan tried and failed to puzzle that out. The mystery only drew him further in toward the Center. As Dan passed the entrance and gatehouse, Lilly took in her first impression. She noticed that the guard waved them through expeditiously. A picture of them had, in fact, been e-sent to the staid original guard post by the clever automated system that ran the resort. Grounds presented lushly, as they had been planted 121 years ago for that purpose when the spa opened as a health resort. It took more than every penny of the Center’s resources, but a Craftsman hotel set in the Ventana Wilderness, with a natural hot spring on grounds, was the perfect fit for the project. Witnessing the beauty of it, Lilly experienced a moment of hope that her husband had found the right spot for them to start over. Decidedly not a dump. Was the article just more cyber-junk? Wrong about most everything? Could anyone display a line of bottoms and play it/them as some human spank-instrument? No. She resolved to keep an open mind about the rest. Dan had planned carefully. A year’s grant was the perfect way to leave his Justice Department job. The role of Corrections Policy Analyst had become dreary anyway. The prospect of serving in Justice under the new President was unappealing. Everyone expected he would re-emerge after the year with a book and an academic or think tank position. He wanted those things, but mostly this career break was about love and his marriage; to his credit, more important than a mere job. He would or wouldn’t advance his research, but that was the secondary reason for selling the Georgetown condo and moving to the mountains twenty wild and glorious miles from the blue Pacific. Cheeky, and now Dr. Nick, was the wild card of it. It concerned him that he was casting their lives to an institution he only knew of through cyber surfing chance. With the certainty that he and Lilly needed special help and a lack of alternatives now that eight months of psychiatric therapy had proven worse than useless, , they fled to the Center, with hope. They entered the main building and found the reception space of the gracious original hotel. At the reception desk was a girl. Maybe nineteen? Such hair! Royal blue on top, tapering to golden at the bottom. Who does that? How? Pampered, pedigreed, and not at all professional. You can tell when a pro is just doing a wage job. This receptionist was a part of the story, the way she hugged them welcome and smiled with sunshine, not the manners of bought help. She wanted them to understand they were instant friends. It worked. After hugs around, there was no saying “no” to this smiling sun-child. She paused, crossed the reception room, and knocked on an office door. It read, Dr. Nick, founder. “Thank you, Crystal” A man of about fifty, trimmed red beard, welcomed them again. Dr. Nick, famous psychologist, retired from Harvard University and was now living his dream. Crystal entered with them, retrieved two files, brought them to the doctor who was seated at the chair, and waited beside him. Dan noticed how sweetly she waited; at demure attention. He also noted that with a single pat to her left behind cheek, she took her leave with charming poise and grace. She shut the door ever so softly behind her. Dan found himself charmed by the subtle interaction. Inappropriate in the outside world where correctness had replaced beauty. “I’m very glad to meet you,” Nick began. “You are making a brave beginning to a better life.” Dan smiled. “Thanks, Doctor.” “We both have PhDs, so let’s drop titles. I’m Nick.” Lilly and Dan held hands, seated on the comfy couch across from Nick in the conference area of his plush office. “We are both relaxed and therapeutic in different ways here, you will see,” Nick pulled the first file to him. It was twenty pages long. Dan recognized that it was his, but with pen marks all over. First diagnosis? He assumed. “Thoughtful” Nick said. Dan took that as a statement of truth. He had thought about little else than his marriage and Lilly’s depression for some time. “You never had a meaningful s****l relation before Lilly?” “That’s the fact of it. Too busy with school, that and….” Dan hesitated. He didn’t say that his own intense sexuality made him shy of women. Academic brilliance comes from somewhere. s****l frustration, a common enough source. Dan and Lilly met when he was a graduate student. She took to cooking for him. Out with daily double pepperoni pizza, in with kale and wild mushroom soufflé. It was love approached through the stomach. Not the body part he was aiming for. “She knew of your need of spanking from the start?” Nick noted. “I told her. What she knew is another matter.” “I knew,” Lilly said, crossing her legs and trying to be supportive. “How did it register with you?” Nick asked, looking at her for understanding. “All guys need something,” she answered with a little mirth. “So, he wasn’t your first.” Indeed not. Lilly always had a guy since tenth grade. Practicing relationships was her craft, in college and before. Building she hoped to a fulfilling life. “You gave them what they needed?” Nick continued. “Always tried to.” She managed a bit of a smile. She threw herself into each love. She had earnestly tried to be what pleased each successive partner. The file inquired into Dan’s religion or spiritual nature, to which in fine academic style he dismissively replied “agnostic”. Nick picked up Lilly’s file. It was thin. “No dissertation here I see.” Lilly shrugged. Analyses wasn’t what she was about. “Lilly with two l’s,” he noticed. “My mother said it was for the extra love,” she informed him, to which he smiled. Only under the faith clause did she write more than Dan. There she wrote “I’d really like to have faith, all it would take is some god bothering to say hello. A simple hi and I’d be very faithful.” Nick noted that she signed under: “I am an adult and invoke my right as such to choose to live by the rules of The Center for Advanced and Traditional Living and Loving.” Nick read the rules aloud, just to be sure: “All members agree to attend weekly sessions with the founder and or his designee.” “All members agree to cheerfully attend all scheduled activities.” “All female members will report to gym class conducted by the second founder, physical therapist Melissa High.” Lilly was pleased with that one. She completely believed physical health was part of a good life. Perhaps the scariest thing in her depression was that she had given up her workouts. “All male members will report daily to gym exercise.” “All member couples will designate who is the dominant and who the submissive in the relation. There can only be one dominant in each relation, but multiple submissives are possible.” This went to the core of the treatment. Lilly was quite OKAY with it; anything to just get on with life. She never asked if she was submissive, but she was acutely female. Same thing? “All dominants will submit progress reports of relationship achievements and challenges.” She knew already he would make a detailed production of this. Whatever. He loved to analyze and write. “All prescription psychiatric drugs are to be surrendered upon arrival to the resident psychologist.” Lilly reached into her bag and passed a bottle to Nick upon hearing this. There was more. Lilly just nodded. She heard him say, “Submissives accept correction from the dominant and from the Center’s leadership as deemed beneficial. All members and guests accept correction from the leadership when deemed necessary.” It’s not that she didn’t understand; it just didn’t register on her at any deep level. Lilly by then was fading. “Okay,” Nick finally said, “that’s a start. It’s time you saw your cottage. We just built the best guest quarters, rented at twenty-five thousand a month.” He was, in fact, pleased about that. God, running the Center was expensive. Dan looked up, almost challenging. Nick continued, “It is understood that at the end of a year, if both of you are not delighted with your stay and its benefits, half the money will be returned.” So, $12,500 a month if the place didn’t work a miracle. Dan completely hoped to pay the full amount. No fool him. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Dan said as he shook Nick’s warm hand. Nick went solemn. “My wife was very special, but you knew that. I’ve read your correspondence with her.” “She seemed to understand me,” Dan affirmed. “She understood a great deal; all this is her legacy.” Nick found his smile. “Let’s see if her spirit can touch you two. Her spirit is all around us here.” He added, looking at Lilly, “and I’m sorry for your loss as well.” Lilly succeeded in finding a brave small smile. She wanted hope. Dan thought of asking about the notes that seemed to come from his deceased wife, then decided too weird.