Looking frustrated, Jessica lay her head on the back cushion of the couch. “I don’t know. It made me want you in a deeper way than I have before. Like something down inside me has wanted this to happen for a while.”
Knowing Jessica could only dwell on ‘mushy’ stuff for a small amount of time and satisfied with her answer, Ray chose to move on. “Do you think you’d like to try this in our marriage?”
“The last thing I’d ever thought I’d be is a spanked wife. I can tell you that.” Laying her head on Ray’s chest, Jessica began tracing the lines of the pattern on his shirt. “But if it makes me feel like this, I’m willing to try it.”
“Punishment spankings are different, those hurt.” Gathering her tightly into his arms, Ray stroked Jessica’s hair and back. Ray knew he would have to ease Jessica into this lifestyle, starting now. “But I think you will feel as you did after this spanking, the wanting part. Are you willing to introduce punishment spankings as well?” Ray didn’t say for him it was all or nothing. Games in the bedroom were wonderful, but if Ray was going to have a spanked wife, it wasn’t something he took lightly. This was something Jessica needed to decide for herself, and he did not want to influence her decision.
“Yes.” Jessica looked up at Ray with a saucy glint in her eye. “I mean, yes, sir.”
Thrilled with her response, Ray stood up, scooping Jessica into his arms and carried her, giggling, off to the bedroom. God, he loved this woman.
The stress relief the spanking, and the tender loving care it led to had Jessica waking up that morning with a grin as wide as the Texas landscape. Smiling to herself, daydreaming about her evening with Ray the night before, Jessica mixed equal parts of Chestnut bronze hair dye number one seventy-seven, with a twenty-volume developer. Having made the same dye for ten years now, Jessica knew the exact recipe to keep Ms. Blaylock's steel gray hair, a gleaming brunette without having to pay much attention to the mix.
Carrying her mixing bowl back into the main part of the salon, Jessica inwardly groaned when she saw there was yet another early bird special customer, waiting in one of her red leather chairs.
“Hey, Mrs. Turner. I’m not sure I have room for any more appointments today,” Jessica said apologetically. “I’m kind of slammed.” Jessica looked around the salon. She had two perms setting under dryers, two women waiting to be seen, flipping through magazines, and Ms. Blaylock, ready for her dye.
“No worries, honey, I’ve just come to chat with the girls.” Mrs. Turner waved her hand at Jessica, insisting she continue with her work.
Jessica wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She had once heard that weddings can bring out the worst in people, not having noticed the truth in the statement until it was her wedding on the line. She loved her customers, but ever since word had gotten out that the wedding reception was to be a potluck, all heck had broken loose in the town of Poke.
There had nearly been knock-down, drag-out fights over potato salad. Instead of bringing a dish, or tea, everyone was bringing both, not to have their mama’s recipe outdone by anyone else’s. Cornbread, corn fritter casserole, corn on the cob had all been claimed, numerous times. And the beans. God help Jessica, there were going to be pans and pans of the magical fruit, overwhelming her special day.
“Jessica,” Mrs. Turner called. “Is anyone bringing banana pudding, yet? It’s been said that I make the tastiest in town, but I don’t want to step on any toes,” Mrs. Turner said, fluffing her hair.
Carefully brushing the amber liquid to cover Ms. Blaylock's roots, Jessica pretended she hadn’t heard the comment over the sound of the dryers.
“Her mama’s making the pudding, Thelma,” Ms. Blaylock answered, patting Jessica’s arm reassuringly. “Didn’t you know it’s custom at a potluck wedding for the mother of the bride to make the dessert?” Ms. Blaylock said, giving Jessica a conspiratory wink in the mirror. Jessica mouthed the words ‘thank you’, to her client.
“I didn’t know that. Doesn’t that just beat all? Makes sense if you think about it, I guess,” Mrs. Turner replied. “Jessica, you love my peach cobbler. I swear you would eat the whole thing by yourself before Ray came along.” Jessica laughed. Mrs. Turner liked to pay Jessica with food, and her cobbler was delicious, and possibly to blame for the remaining baby weight that plagued Jessica.
“That’d be lovely, Mrs. Turner,” Jessica answered, turning and smiling at the darling woman. “Ray loves your cobbler, too,” she added.
“Don’t want to show up the mother of the bride by bringing dessert, but you know it’s my specialty,” Mrs. Turner sniffed. “And goodness knows those bachelors are bringing enough beans to feed an army. We need other food groups than legumes.”
“Enough beans to feed an army and gas power the entire state of Texas,” Ms. Blaylock added. A rowdy laughter ensued, and Jessica could almost sigh with relief as the conversation changed to flatulence.
Knowing the ladies were on a roll, and she could get away with nodding her head and inserting the occasional, ‘mmm, hmm’, Jessica focused on her job while letting her emotions process.
Last night had been a turning point for her and Ray’s relationship. Though they had talked about spanking before, up until last night, Ray had never spanked her. The memory of Ray’s control over her body made Jessica’s tummy feel funny, and her knees weak.
The act of crawling over Ray’s lap and presenting herself to him brought on a wave of submission that was hard to process. Embarrassing, yes, humiliating even, especially being made to count her swats out loud, but not unpleasant. There was an almost animal-like quality about the connection Jessica had experienced over the lap of her man.
Then there was the feeling of the actual spanking. It hadn’t hurt, exactly, but more left a burning, stinging sensation all over her bottom, connecting to her very core. Wondering how the spanking she had received would differ from punishment, Jessica wasn’t sure if she was curious or scared to death by the proposition. Deciding to focus on having excellent behavior, Jessica hoped that she wouldn’t have to find out too soon.
The storm had left as quickly as it had come, but the damage was done. It didn’t take long for the strong Texas wind to destroy what was in its path. Walking the perimeter of the fence with two of his ranch hands, Wes assessed the repairs that would be needed to mend the livestock fencing.
Glancing at the watch that never left Wes’ wrist, he figured he had about half of an hour before he needed to be back up to the house to get dressed. With the wedding mess disrupting his routine on the ranch, Wes had planned a romantic date night for him and Carrie to get away.
Wanting to give Carrie time to relax, he had told her to keep her evening free that night. He was going to put Carrie’s music on his truck radio, and drive her out to Clinton, to have dinner in the same steakhouse they had their first official date.
Seeing Wes checking his watch, Gary teased, “You got somewhere to be, boss?”
“I’m taking Carrie out tonight, I have about thirty minutes, then you guys are on your own to finish this up.” Since getting married, Wes had been delegating more of the ranch’s responsibilities to his employees. When Carrie had become deathly ill last year, the delegation had been invaluable, and so Wes made it a priority to not go back to his old ways of doing everything himself.
“You’d better not be late,” Gary said, making a face Wes couldn’t quite read. “Carrie’s on a warpath today.”
Carrie was the baby of the ranch. The men looked out for little Carrie and adored her. They also helped Wes keep tabs on his little bit from time to time. While no one ever tattled on her, the men did inform Wes of Carrie’s transgressions from time to time. Especially if Carrie got a wild hair and put herself into harm’s way with one of her crazy schemes. They hated to rat her out as they had seen Wes take her to the barn and knew exactly what went on in there. But it was Wes’ ranch and Wes’ rules. The men held a tremendous amount of respect for Wes. If there was ever something they thought he shoul
d know, they told him.
“Out with it, Gary.” Wes leaned against an undamaged fence post crossing his arms over his chest.
“I was up in the kitchen getting some of Mama’s leftover biscuits from this morning. You know the ones where she puts the cheddar cheese in the batter?”
“Gary, I don’t want to hear about biscuits. What happened with Carrie?”
“So, you know she’s all stressed out by this wedding. I guess that’s why you decided to skip the ceremony and got married at the hospital instead,” Gary said, stalling.
“Her decision,” Wes replied. Carrie had woken from her near coma and demanded they be married that day. There was no stopping her, and Wes had been perfectly happy to exchange the bedside nuptials. The only thing that mattered was that Carrie was alive. “Now, get to the good part,” Wes said with a smile.
“Carrie snapped at Mama,” Gary hesitantly revealed. “It was pretty ugly. I thought you’d want to know, and I know Mama wouldn’t tell you. But I’d hate to see it happen again.”
Everyone who stepped foot on the ranch called Wes’ mother, Mama. There was not a stomach that entered her kitchen without leaving full. Mama’s kind eyes and even temperament, mixed with her good cooking and nuggets of wisdom made Mama everyone’s friend.
Shock and anger flashed in Wes’ mind. Yes, Carrie had been out of sorts lately, but he thought he had put a stop to that with their spanking session. It was one thing for Carrie to take out her stress out on him, but to turn on Mama, there would have to be a serious consequence.
“Thank you for telling me, Gary. I might cut out, now. I have something I need to take care of.” Turning, Wes made his way towards the house.
“Go easy on her,” Gary called out behind Wes.
That would not be possible. Carrie had crossed a line.
Wes’ determination wavered, just a touch, when he saw his wife. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched as Carrie twirled in front of the mirror. Hair twisted up in an elegant bun, wearing the rose-colored dress from their Mexico vacation, with red cowgirl boots completing the outfit, Carrie looked like an angel.
Wes cleared his throat to announce his arrival. Startled, Carrie turned to him, saying, “Oh, hi, I didn’t hear you come in.” Her fingers reached up to the little gold horse charm that always hung around her neck. She twirled it nervously.
“How was your day?” Wes asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his Wranglers and casually striding towards her.
“Okie dokie,” Carrie said, brightly. “Ready for our date?” Trying to move past Wes, Carrie headed towards the door.
Wes took his hand from his pocket, grabbing Carrie’s shoulder and stopping her. “Not so fast. Have a seat. I want to talk to you.”
Her fingers now frantically twisting the little horse, Carrie looked from Wes to the doorway.
If Wes hadn’t been so upset, he might have thought her attempt at escape was cute. “Sit.” Wes pointed to the large four-poster bed.
The four-poster bed had been Carrie’s dream since she was a little girl. Wes was happy to make it a part of his renovations when he changed the bunkhouse to their love nest, as Carrie called it. He had found the perfect four-poster antique frame, and Carrie loved it. Recently, complaining their mattress was too firm, Wes had bought a deeper mattress and feather bed for Carrie. When he had piled the fourteen-inch mattress and feather mattress topper that Carrie required, they had found it was too high for her to get into by herself, or bend over. That would not do. Wes had brought in the little milking stool from the barn and put it at the foot of the bed. It held a special memory for both, as it was on that little milking stool that Carrie had received her first spanking from Wes.
The sound of his voice brought a hint of fear to Carrie’s eyes. Stepping up on the stool, she quickly sat down on the edge of the bed.
Wes stood in front of her, legs spread, arms crossed. “Is there something you need to tell me, Carrie Ann?”
Carrie squirmed, fiddling with the charm.
“Don’t,” Wes said, quietly. Uncrossing his arms, Wes took Carrie’s hand down from the little horse that looked just like Mabel. “You’ll break it.”
Placing her hands demurely in her lap, Carrie heaved a sigh. “It just came out. I felt terrible, and I apologized to Mama. It won’t ever, ever happen again. I’ve just been so stressed.” Carrie peeked up from under her lashes.
“Darn right, it won’t happen again, Carrie,” Wes interrupted. “I have half a mind to call Jessica right now and tell her that you can no longer handle your responsibilities as Matron of Honor. This entire ranch is not going to tippy-toe around you while you act however you want, blaming life circumstances for your nasty behavior.”
Carrie begged, “Please don’t do that, Daddy. I want to help with the wedding.”
Wes held his hand up to her. “No ‘Daddy’, right now, Carrie.”
Her chocolate brown eyes widened, and she looked up at him. It tugged at his heartstrings, but he had to get through to her.
“I am still your loving daddy, and you are my little girl. But right now, I am your husband and I am dealing with my disrespectful, errant wife. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you want to tell me what you said to Mama?”
Carrie shook her head, ashamed.
“Fine. You can keep it to yourself, I really don’t want to hear it anyway.” It would only add to the anger he felt, and Wes did not ever want to feel angry towards his wife. “You will be thoroughly punished. And you will be going back to apologize to Mama again, with a tear-stained face.”
“What about our date?” Carrie asked, wringing her hands in her lap.
Wes laughed, fuming at her request. “Date? You have a date with the paddle tonight, young lady. And a date with your strap, tomorrow.”
Silently, Carrie gaped at Wes. He had never given her a paddling and strapping as a punishment. “But…”
“Carrie. You have crossed a very, very hard line for me. I have been patient, I have been understanding, and I have spanked you to set you straight. None of that is working. This is not a fun, cute oops, moment. This is a serious transgression. I will not allow anyone to speak to the matriarch of this family in a way that does not reflect the amazing woman that she is. Just as I would not allow anyone to speak to you in a disrespectful manner.”
Tears formed in Carrie’s eyes, but for once, they did not soften Wes’ resolve. Wes knew what Carrie needed right now, was not softness, but unrelenting discipline. He was sure she felt terrible for snapping at Mama and though she would hate the punishments during the sessions, she would feel absolved of the guilt she was carrying. As well as be sure not to make such a mistake again.
“You are going to pull your panties down around your thighs, turn and stand on the stool, and bend over the edge of the bed.”
Hesitantly, Carrie looked at Wes. Unsmiling eyes locked on her. Wes did not move, waiting patiently.
Giving him one last, shy look, Carrie stood on the stool, reaching up under her dress and pulling down her pale, yellow panties. Any other day, the sight of her removing those yellow panties would have had Wes ready to throw her onto the bed to do other things, but not today. He wanted to punish her.
Leaving her panties around her thighs, as he had commanded, Carrie turned on the stool and leaned her upper body over the bed.
“Lift your dress.”
With a little groan, Carrie slowly reached behind her for the hem of her skirt. Staying in place over the bed, she pulled the material up and over her bottom. Her bare skin was on display to him, her bottom curving over the edge of the bed perfectly, her legs taut as she stood, tippy toe on the stool underneath her.
Wes took his time going over to the closet to retrieve the paddle, hanging from its red ribbon. Wes hated to use the special Christmas paddle for this. His anger had dissolved, leaving a lingering disappointment behind. How could Carrie do such a thing?
Returning to the bed
, Wes felt sad to see Carrie was crying quietly. Knowing she was ashamed of what she had done, but also knowing it was his job to see that she didn’t repeat the mistake, Wes raised the paddle. There would be no lecturing, there was no need. There would only be discipline, leaving his bride a sore little mess for the rest of the evening.
The wooden paddle landed with a crack, right in the center of Carrie’s bottom. Lifting the paddle, Wes could see that it had instantly reddened her skin. Every time the paddle landed, Carrie cried out. Wes continued to paddle her bottom until it was crimson. When the punishment was over, Carrie was a sobbing mess and lay limp over the bed.
As much as Wes wanted to gather Carrie into his arms and let her sob onto his chest, it was not yet time for aftercare. Instead, he left her on the bed, hanging the paddle back in the closet. Returning to the bed, Wes said, “To your corner.”
Sniffling, and wiping at her eyes, Carrie quickly hurried down from the stool and shuffled, panties still around her thighs, to her ‘naughty corner’. Another one of Wes’ designs, the large corner to the left of the bed was empty, save for a gold framed mirror that hung level with Carrie’s face. He liked his naughty girl to be able to see her tears, as well as her man, watching her, in the reflection.
Once Carrie was in place, Wes sat down in the chair that he kept across from the naughty corner. “Lift your dress and hold it around your waist.”
Carrie obeyed, lifting her skirts to reveal her reddened bottom. Wes was careful never to spank Carrie hard enough to do any damage, but when he was punishing her, he liked to see the evidence. Standing still, Carrie held her skirts, bunched up in her hands on either side of her waist.
“Higher.”
Lifting her skirts to her midback, Carrie sniffled, looking pleadingly at Wes in the mirror.
Enjoying the sight of Carrie’s bare legs, yellow panties wrapped tightly around her thighs, leading up to the lovely bottom he had just rightfully burned red, Wes gave his girl a reassuring smile. There was only so much a daddy could take before he wrapped his wayward little girl in his arms and kissed away her tears.
The Bartender (Sweet Texas Love Book 3) Page 4