The Porch

The Porch

It was a braided oval rug, an island on the wood of the front porch, but for Lauren it was her place of peace. She sat there, ankles folded, rounded back, arms wrapped around her knees in the early evening light. The shadow of her house stretched out before her on the lawn. She could slowly move her head side to side looking between the spindles, each shift changing the view. There were mares and foals grazing in the paddock in front of the house and each subtle movement altered the scene, some coming into her sight, some out of it. The sun was only just beginning its’ descent distorting the shadows, elongating them into odd shapes cast in the crimson hue of the sunset. Red sky at night, sailors delight. Lauren wondered if that were true. Tonight’s red- sky meant good weather tomorrow if it was to be believed. Summer was a good time for Lauren, babies growing strong in the fields. She adopted her uniform for the long warm days, cut-offs, sandals, and t-shirts. It seemed to best suit her boyish looks. She absently picked at the edge of the rug with her long fingers flicking away imaginary pieces of fiber. Nothing but mares and foals on the grass that stretched down to the creek. A sea of green broken by white fence boards

“Sailors delight”, she thought.

The sharp splat of the screen door slamming shut gave her a start. Lauren rested her chin on her knees and gazed at the horizon.

“It’s time,” she heard him say quietly.

She could see his bare feet next to her island on the wood, he’d be bare chested above his faded jeans, she needn’t look.

“It’s time Lauren”, he said it more sharply as if she hadn’t heard him before.

She reached up and took his hand turning his wrist, the face of his watch said eight o’ clock, he was right, it was time. She placed the palms of her hands flat on the warm wooden deck and slowly pushed herself to her feet. The full paddocks came into view, mares and foals eating lush grass in the twilight. Lauren undid the snap of her shorts and pulled until the zipper uncoiled; hooking the thumbs into the waistband of her undies she pushed to the floor until she could step out of them leaving them in a mass atop her sandals. The heat and stillness of the air was obvious now clinging to her flesh like a living thing she stepped up onto the gunwale of the porch railing placing each foot slightly more then shoulder width apart against the spindles. She bent over the railing with a practiced move and grasped the gunwale with both hands. The wood against her stomach made her breath come short.

“You know better”, he said quietly, tapping a finger on the small of her back.

Lauren exhaled and pushed up onto her toes bending her further over, thrusting her hips back and pressing her onto the wooden rail, she waited.

Lauren studied the shadows on the grass, the darker green inside their borders until she heard the tell-tale snaps of a belt being pulled through the loops of blue jeans. The clarion sound that made burning bile rise in her throat as far back as she could remember, tonight was no exception; she coughed and choked it back.

“Why do I do this Lauren?” his tone was professorial, asking a question he’d asked a hundred times or more, the answer was known by rote.

“Because you can”, Lauren bit her lower lip as soon as she spoke, it was there in an instant.

Snap!

The belt landed across the center of her upraised backside making her suck the damp air deep into her lungs. The pain lingered and grew after the initial shock departed.

Crack!

The second landed almost on top of the first, making her arch her back, the burning spread, the backs of the legs ached, she could feel perspiration on her face but still she held fast to the porch.

Lauren could hear them now. The first lash of the belt brought heads to attention, the second sent mares and foals racing away from the sound. She could hear their hoofs as they pounded on the sod. She could imagine manes and tails flowing, it was a beautiful sight. She was afraid for them; a foal could stumble or be run into by a frightened mare. A foal could be injured, a foal could be killed.

Crack!

The third landed solidly across her bottom closest to the tops of her thighs. It was not a random strike; he liked to beat her there.

By now the herd was at the far edge of the field, milling, looking back at the anticipated danger. Lauren didn’t have to see them, she knew what was happening. Mares and foals.

“Why do I do this Lauren?”

She coughed a bit, and steadied herself on her toes.

“Because I like it.”

The mares and foals now grazed at the far end of the green sea. There was no danger for them. Lauren rose higher onto her toes, thrust back her hips, arched her back and waited.
Red sky at night, mares and foals.

[sister0163]

Hi ya Kara!

Great short story here! Thanks for sharing it with the rest of us.... Soooo is lauren real? i am thinking Yes she is


Thanks again Kara
~dena

No I'm afraid Lauren is a purely fictional charector

[Max]

you have a great way of painting a picture with words I enjoyed your story so much.thank you kindly for your efforts, they are greatly appreciated
sincerely Max PS. I would enjoy chatting with you please feel free to contact me at any time . I have a couple of pictures you might enjoy Maxderm@Comcast.net