Waiting in her room, it had occurred to her to just go to bed and tell him later that she'd accidently fallen asleep, but she'd known she would only be postponing the inevitable anyway, and she'd also known that once the spanking was over and done with, at least he would stop being angry with her.
Consequently, 30 minutes later, in her nightdress, dressing gown and sandals, she'd slipped quietly out of the house and made her way reluctantly to the shearers' quarters. Unlike tonight, he hadn't been sitting on the verandah and she'd had to knock on his door.
"Well, you looked white as a ghost when you came through my door you know," Michael told her now. "I guess you knew you were in plenty of trouble, huh?"
"You were very cross," Jill answered, imagining how she must have looked that night, dressed for bed, her face pale and anxious. He hadn't been very sympathetic then, she remembered. In fact, after having made her wait all afternoon, he hadn't wasted another second but had simply got straight down to business. Grabbing a chair and placing it in the middle of the room, he'd taken hold of her arm and pulled her to him as he sat down.
"You know why you're getting this spanking, don't you Roo?" he'd asked roughly, knowing full well she did. She'd just nodded, silently praying for a miracle to save her from what was about to happen.
But there was no miracle, only the reality of him pulling her over his knee and pushing her dressing gown and nightie up to her waist.
"No, Michael!" she'd cried, wriggling with embarrassment. He'd only ever spanked her over her clothes before.
"Keep still!" he'd ordered her sternly. "That was a really stupid thing you did today, Jill, and I'm going to spank some sense into you one way or another. I'm going to make sure you feel this spanking - and I mean really feel it, and you won't do that if I'm just smacking your clothes."
"No," she'd moaned again, trying to put her arm behind her, but he'd caught it and pushed it against her back.
"Any more nonsense, Roo, and I'll take your knickers down to your ankles as well and tan your backside with my belt." And with that, he'd started smacking her.
Remembering that night, Jill shivered despite this night being so warm. He'd kept his word; there was no doubt about that. It was the hardest spanking she'd ever had, and she'd felt every one of the seemingly hundreds of smacks he'd landed on her tender cheeks. He hadn't used any tricks to make the spanking less severe, he'd deliberately spanked hard and fast right from the start. Left cheek, then right cheek, then left cheek, then right cheek, over and over again on the soft fleshy lower part of her bottom.
"No," she'd squealed after only the first few spanks, her bottom already stinging, her flimsy panties offering scant protection, and her fear growing as she'd realized it had only just begun. "Michael! No!" she'd cried again, but the more she'd fought it, the more firmly he'd tucked her against him, and the harder and faster his hand had punished her.
"Oh, ow, ow, no, ow," she'd cried in rhythm with his hand. How could it sting so? And how could she endure it? "Michael, please," she'd begged futilely. "Please, no more," she'd cried as hot tears of pain, helplessness and remorse welled up inside her.
But her sad pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Shifting her position slightly, he'd turned his attention to her thighs and that was even worse. By this time, Jill had been sobbing freely, wondering how she could stand any more and promising herself that she would never do anything so foolish again. Down had come his hard hand, again and again. When her thighs were red and inflamed, he'd turned his attention back to her bottom, spanking her on the very sensitive upper part of her cheeks. Jill had kicked and wriggled and bawled and bucked and sobbed and moaned and twisted and writhed, but to no avail.
Even though they were quite some distance from the house, with the crisp crack of his hand against her flesh and her wailing and sobbing, Jill might have been concerned that they could be heard, had she been aware of anything except the inferno he had created in her bottom. So long and hard did he spank her that for the last five minutes, Jill had even stopped feeling each individual spank, lost as she was in a sea of pain and surrender.
Finally he'd stopped spanking, but still she'd sobbed and rocked and wriggled and cried not realizing it was over until she'd felt him pull her nightdress and gown back down over her throbbing bottom and stinging thighs.
Scrambling to her feet, she rubbed her bottom with her hands clenched into fists as he'd stood and pulled her into his arms and just held her quietly while she sobbed against his chest. He hadn't moved until he'd felt her begin to calm down, except to lightly brush her hair with his lips, so lightly she'd not even been sure it had really happened. Then he'd taken her hand and led her back to the house.
"Go to bed now, Roo," he'd ordered her gruffly, "and don't ever do anything like that again." Then he'd turned and left. She'd gone back to the city a couple of days later, and they'd not seen each other or spoken again until her arrival at the farm yesterday.
During that time, he'd apparently begun courting Rachel Longroh, which made his behaviour towards her, the spanking last night, holding her hand now and making her talk about the last spanking he'd given her, very confusing.
She wasn't going to be able to ponder this, however, because they'd reached the horses' paddock and, in the faint light from the crescent moon and trillions of stars, could see the silhouettes of the horses and hear them munching on some hay left over from their evening feed.
"Come on," Michael urged as he approached the fence and gave a low whistle. "Just remember what I said about not making sudden moves. They won't bite, I promise," he added as he felt her pull back.
"No, I'll stay here," Jill said determinedly stopping dead and refusing to budge another inch. This time he allowed her to slip her hand from his, as he walked over to the fence. He whistled again, and with a whicker of greeting, one of the horses left the other two and walked toward him.
Jill watched Michael reach out to stroke the big black horse's nose as it nuzzled him lovingly in return. "How could anyone be afraid of you, old son?" Michael was crooning, but Jill could feel the rising panic, which she had to fight to control whenever she found herself in close proximity to a horse.
"You're just an old softy, aren't you?" At the sound of his master's voice, Bushranger whickered gently once more. There was clearly a deep rapport between the two and Jill, standing alone on the outer, wished she could overcome her fear and share the moment with them. But it was useless. Her feet may as well have been glued to the ground.
The stallion, having had a pat and discovering there were no apples or carrots in the offing, was eager to get back to what was left of the hay. Michael gave him a gentle push on the neck and the horse, with a last nudge from his velvet muzzle, wandered off.
"Horses, it seems, unlike Mozart, are one subject on which we're doomed to disagree," Michael said as he rejoined Jill. "I don't understand you're dislike of them at all."
"I don't dislike them," Jill tried to explain.
"It sure looks like you do. I can't imagine how you'd behave if you did, then," Michael mocked her.
"They just terrify me. I can't explain why, they just do."
"Let me help you overcome it then." Michael's voice was gentler now. "I know you can do it, and once you experience the thrill of riding a good horse with the wind whipping over you, you'll wonder why you waited so long."
"No, I can't." Once again, a shiver ran through her at the mere thought of being near a horse, let alone on its back.
Michael shrugged as if accepting the uselessness of pressing the point, and taking her hand again, set off back down the drive.
"I have tried you know," Jill said.
"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter," he said, cutting her off. "I wouldn't imagine you have much need for horses in the city. It's different here. But I guess you've got no plans to move to the country anyway, have you?"
"No, I guess it'll always be the bright lights for me," Jill responded as brightly as she could. In truth, being able to
live at River Gums was her most cherished dream, but she had always known it was impossible. She wasn't really an O'Connell, just a friend. She had no option but to make a life for herself somewhere else.
For one brief moment under the mistletoe when he had kissed her, Jill had allowed herself to imagine a different possibility. But it was hopeless. Even if she could somehow get Michael to fall in love with her, and there seemed little hope of that if he had already decided to marry Rachel, he clearly didn't want a wife who would be useless on the farm.
The only place she would ever have in his life was as a "nearly sister," and she mustn't let on that when he stood close to her, as he was now, that when he held her hand firmly in his, when she saw his mouth so close above hers, it was not the affection of a sister that made her heart beat so treacherously.
"Goodnight, Michael," she said, outwardly calm as they stopped outside the garden gate after a silent walk back down the drive. "Thanks again for the musical interlude and the walk."
"Jill…" Michael began as he released her hands and gripped her shoulders, but Jill suddenly afraid he might be thinking about kissing her again as he had earlier, cut him short.
"Yes, brother?" and she leaned up and kissed him offhandedly on the cheek instead.
Instantly the expression on his face hardened and his fingers bit into her, causing her to wince with pain. Seeing this, he abruptly let her go and with a sardonic, "Goodnight, sister," and a slap on her bottom, he was gone.
It was done then. She had showed him how she wanted and expected their relationship to be conducted. She had to make it totally clear to him that if he'd hoped to use her for his own pleasure before making his final commitment to Rachel, he was going to be very disappointed.
Chapter Four
"Come on, Roo! It's past six." Vicky's face peered round Jill's door. "Aren't you ready yet?"
"Just coming." Jill took one last look in the mirror. Her simple sundress was almost the colour of her long straight hair, now brushed until it shone like a soft yellow sunset. The effect against the olive brown of her tanned skin was most fetching, but Jill frowned as she observed her reflection. In her mind, she could see the image of another woman, tall, slim and very elegant.
I look like a kid, she thought with faint disgust. Why can't I manage to look as sophisticated as Rachel? But the question was rhetorical, and with a sigh she collected her bag and joined Vicky still waiting by the door.
"You look fantastic!" said her friend, as if sensing Jill's need for reassurance. "The local boys won't know what's hit them."
"Vick! We're going to sing Christmas carols for charity!"
"I know." Vicky tried to look abashed but without any real success. "Still it'll be fun anyway. Come on, then. We're running late. Let's say goodbye to Mum and Dad. Ali's already waiting in the car."
Jill hadn't seen Michael since their moonlight walk to visit the horses the previous evening, and as they hurried towards town, she was disturbingly aware that tonight would be the first time she would see him and Rachel together.
When they arrived at the church where the two trucks covered in hay bales were waiting to transport the carollers around the town, however, there was no sign of Michael or Rachel. Once or twice during the day Jill had found herself secretly hoping they wouldn't turn up, but as she, Vicky and Ali climbed onto one of the trucks and found themselves seats near Dave, who'd arrived earlier, Jill realized she felt no relief at Michael's absence, only sharp disappointment.
Her emotions were immediately flung into new disarray, however, as someone yelled to the drivers as they prepared to leave, "Wait on. Here's some latecomers."
Judging from the expression on Rachel's face as she alighted from the ute and followed Michael towards the trucks, she was not pleased to be there.
"Mike," Dave called. "Over here."
Seeing the group from River Gums, Rachel deliberately took Michael's hand and tried to lead him towards the other truck. Jill saw him cup his hand around the back of her head and speak angrily to her. She felt his power, and was not surprised to see Rachel bow before his will as she sulkily followed him aboard the truck on which the others waited. Greeting his family and friends, Michael quickly took a seat next to Jill.
"Hello," he said easily, his eyes running appreciatively over her.
"I thought you weren't coming." The words were out of Jill's mouth before she could stop them, and she felt herself blush, as if they would reveal the agonies she'd put herself through trying to decide whether she would be happier if he were there or not.
"Michael." They were interrupted by a petulant Rachel. She'd not yet sat down and was clearly keen to sit between Michael and Jill. Realizing this, Jill moved over, but Michael just indicated a space on the floor by his feet. For a moment Rachel hesitated, but then obviously deciding that further antagonizing Michael might not be a good tactical move, she lowered herself to the hay, running her hand proprietorially down his leg as she did so and wriggling back against his him until he was forced to open his legs so she could slide between and lay her head on his knee. At the same time, she shot Jill a look of sheer malevolence, which carried an unequivocal message for her to leave Michael alone. Suspecting that Rachel was no stranger to malicious spite, and not wanting to become a target for it, Jill found the first opportunity to turn her attention away from Michael and join in a conversation with Vicky.
As the evening progressed, the trucks carried the singers to designated stops, where the carols were sung and the money collected. At each stop, the carollers changed their positions on the trucks for the next leg of the journey so as to socialize with as many different people as possible. Jill made a point of always finding a place away from Michael and his unfriendly companion, and there was no shortage of other people only too happy to be sociable. Vicky's earlier words about the local men's assured interest in her being proved right. She'd not been short of someone to talk to, nor of offers of escorts for the New Year's Eve dance, all of which she'd graciously, but firmly declined.
As the trucks pulled away from their last stop in town and headed for the first of the farms at which they'd been invited to call, she realized with dismay that Michael had again positioned himself close by. In the fast encroaching darkness, she could no longer clearly see his face, but even the lack of light couldn't hide the mocking glint in his eyes as they travelled down her bare shoulders covered only by the thin straps of her dress. His gaze rested for a moment on the swell of her breasts just visible above a neckline Jill now wished was just a bit higher, then continued down her body and over her long, slim, bare legs.
As his gaze returned to her face, she could hear the sardonic tone in his voice as he drily observed, "Well, if it isn't the little honey-pot herself. You've certainly succeeded in setting the local bees buzzing."
"I don't know what you mean!" Jill stammered in embarrassment. Having practically just been undressed by his eyes, she was further dismayed by something in the tone of his voice that suggested she had deliberately dressed seductively in order to arouse interest in the local males. It was such a ridiculous proposition that if Jill hadn't known better, she might have thought he must be jealous. Michael continued to appraise her with his slightly ironic smile and one raised eyebrow.
"You don't, eh? I take it then that you haven't noticed that you have been surrounded by drooling men for the last hour or so?"
"They weren't drooling." Jill forced herself to meet his gaze coolly, daring him to make any further comment. Her discomfort only deepened however, when instead of withdrawing under what she had hoped was a withering look, he chuckled instead.
"Perhaps not physically," he conceded with barely suppressed humour. "I gather, though, that there's going to be bit of a battle for your favours at the dance next week. Have you decided on the lucky man yet, or do you think it might be more fun to keep them all dangling?"
"I'm not keeping anyone dangling." Jill felt the colour in her cheeks deepen as her anger rose again. Was he now
insinuating she was a shallow flirt? "I'm sure you're exaggerating this out of all proportion."
"I am, am I? Well, I guess we'll find out at the dance, won't we?" His voice had lowered as he spoke and there was a new and unidentifiable glint in his eyes.
The trucks were approaching, and would soon pass the church at which the carollers had assembled earlier that evening. Rachel, who had been observing the exchange between Michael and Jill with increasing hostility, became agitated and spoke sharply to Michael. Jill couldn't hear what she said, but Michael's shake of the head was obviously not the response she wanted. Her voice rose in shrill anger and Jill heard the words "stop" and "I'll go alone!"
"Fine." Michael's answer was crystal clear. "You can ask the driver to stop if you want, but I'm staying till the end."
Rachel tried again, replacing her demanding tone with a simpering wheedle, but Michael remained intractable and, to Jill's horror, turned and casually placed a hand on her arm.
"Besides," he said. "I feel it's my brotherly duty to stay and protect Roo's honour."
Despite the lightness of his touch, Jill felt every nerve in her body leap alive, and even after his hand was gone she could feel the burning sensation where it had been.
Rachel surveyed her again with obvious contempt. "I'm sure she's quite capable of taking care of herself. If, that is," she added insinuatingly "she actually gives a damn about her honour."
This last was too much for Jill. "Now listen here..." she began, leaping to her feet, but at that moment, the truck gave an unexpected lurch and, losing her balance, she fell against Michael who fortunately managed to catch her, and with his powerful arms guided her down so that instead of sprawling in the hay, she found herself neatly seated in his lap. Feeling his immense strength and the tightness with which he was holding her prisoner, she could only sit there dumbly mortified.
No More Laters Page 7