“Okay, I’ll think about it. Thanks, Ted.”
“Sure. Anytime. You’re going to get through this, Georgia. And come out stronger on the other side. I just know it.”
“What’s the name of Brody’s ranch? So, I can look it up on the web, get some more information to think things over with.”
A smile tugged at Ted’s lips, like he didn’t want to tell me what his cousin’s ranch was called.
“What is it? Come on, Ted. You want me to work there but you won’t tell me the name of the place?”
“Okay, okay. It’s CLAS, with one ‘s’ and it stands for—”
“Let me guess. Chicks Loving Ass Spankers?”
When Ted had recovered from his laughter, he said, “No. But that was a good one. Clean Living and Sunshine.”
“Ugh,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Serves me right that I screw up my life so badly the only option I have is to move off to someplace in the middle of nowhere without a drop of alcohol in sight and—no offense—a crazy religious, bossy, straightedge sadist running the show.”
“I guess you could say the punishment fits the crime,” Ted said, rising from his chair with a wink. “Let’s get you home. Get some shut-eye. I’ll give Brody a call. Put in a good word for you, and double check to be sure he hasn’t found someone yet. Think about it. Let me know.”
“I will, Ted. And… thanks for being a good friend to me.” Stupid tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks.
Pushing his chair behind him, Ted held out his arms to me. “Of course. Come here, G.” I rushed into the arms of my best guy friend, laying my head on his chest. “You’re going to be okay, ladybug. I promise.”
“Things really can only look up from here, right?”
“Right. That’s the spirit.” Ted gave me a final squeeze. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home.”
Together, we headed out of the breakroom.
Darlene stopped us on the way out, grabbing my arm. “Hang on, Georgia.”
“I’ll go pull up the car,” Ted said flashing me a reassuring smile as he left me with Darlene.
A sick feeling hit me in the stomach. “I’m sorry I let you down, Darlene.”
“I’m sorry things had to end this way, Georgia. But you know I couldn’t keep you on after the way you showed up here this morning. I’m going to miss you. And not just because you’re the best vet assistant I’ve ever had.”
“I’m sorry.” I had no other words.
“That ex-boyfriend really had a hold on you, didn’t he?”
I gave a small nod, wiping a tear from my eyes.
“Take care of yourself, kid. Get your life cleaned up. Come back and see me in six months. We’ll talk.”
“Really?”
“No promises, but yes. Maybe by then Mrs. Fluffy Barker will be calmed down,” Darlene said with a roll of her eyes.
“Thanks, Darlene. For everything.”
“You got it, kid.”
With that, I turned my back on my ex-boss, and left the Vet and Pet Spa.
* * *
That afternoon, lying on my bed staring at the ceiling. I picked up my phone, typing into the Google search, ‘Clean Living and Sunshine Ranch.’ The first thing that came up were the bold letters, outlining what the ranch wasn’t about. “No drinking, no smoking, no substances. Just clean living and sunshine. And we offer a short bus ride to the local church on Sunday mornings.”
And freshly spanked rear ends. “You have to be kidding me. Do places like this really exist? Is there even such a thing as wedding receptions that don’t serve alcohol?” No wonder Ted and Kaley had opted out of having their reception on the family ranch. I tried to picture the happy couple toasting with cut crystal champagne flutes of—what? Grape juice? I gave a shudder.
God, I was craving a drink.
Pushing the thought of an ice cold draft beer from my mind, I scrolled down, looking over the pictures of cute kids riding gorgeous horses, the employees looking on, smiling in their jeans and work shirts.
My finger hovered over the picture below it, my breath catching in my throat, nausea and sadness overwhelming me. The picture was of the interior of a weathered gray barn. Thousands of twinkling white bulb lights hung from the high rafters. Pink, peach, and white roses bundled in vases covered white linen-swathed tables.
It was my dream wedding.
The wedding I had been envisioning with Jake pretty much since the first time we held hands. The only exception would have been that we would have had an additional table next to the immaculate display of food—for an open bar. Which was most certainly not allowed at CLAS. The image of Jake donning a tux flashed in my mind’s eye, a strand of his dark hair hanging over those ice blue eyes.
Shoving Jake’s memory away, I stifled a sob, quickly flicking the idyllic wedding reception from my screen. “Where is Boss Man Brody? There has to be a picture of him somewhere.” I kept tapping through the menu but there was no picture or information about the owner of the ranch. “Must know he’s too stuffy looking,” I sniffed. “Probably would scare the guests away.” Though Ted had said the man looked like hottie Luke Bryan.
Frustrated, I threw my phone to the foot of the bed. After a full hour of browsing the website, I had to be honest with myself. The place was gorgeous. From these pictures, it looked as if Wyoming was a wild, rugged, yet beautiful place. And the ranch—rolling hills growing into magnificent peaks, vast skylines, lakes and rivers surrounded by a dense wood. The buildings looked to be meticulously maintained, designed with a rustic romantic flair.
Closing my eyes, I lay my head back further into my down pillows. The fast-food burger I had grabbed on the way home and half eaten, trying to absorb some of the acid in my stomach, sat heavy in my belly. My head still throbbed, and my eyes were sore from crying.
I was a city girl through and through. One of those weird people that admitted to loving the smell of gasoline, the noise of the cars and bustling streets, able to sleep through the sound of an ambulance passing underneath my bedroom window. I loved the ability to purchase any ethnicity of food I craved, any time, day or night. And the walkability to bars was fantastic.
But easy access to bars was also the reason for my recent demise.
Maybe clean living and sunshine would be good for me. Maybe a healthy dose of wholesome was just what this girl needed. And there was an undeniable, yet annoying throb underneath my shorts that came anytime I pictured the flat palm of a tall, stern cowboy.
There really was no other choice. I was going to have to take the job, whether I liked it or not. Potentially spanking cowboy boss or not.
Rolling over, I retrieved my phone. Unlocking the screen, a picture of Jake and me that I had yet to take down made my heart drop to my stomach. The two of us in front of Boise State, our graduation caps with the tassels turned, Jake’s arm resting over my shoulders, that lopsided bad boy grin on his face.
My fingers tapped at the screen, dialing Ted’s cell.
“Jeeeeello?” he answered, his voice bright. I could hear his fiancée, Kaley laughing at his silliness in the background.
Clearing my throat, I tried to hide the sound of dried tears from my voice. Faking high spirits, I said, “Hey, Ted! I’ve been thinking about this whole crazy ranch thing and—”
“I’ve been hoping you’d call, G. I talked to Brody after I left work. He filled the position last week. I’m sorry I even mentioned it. I should have asked him if it was still available first.”
To my surprise, disappointed flooded my chest. Images of the rolling landscape, the sun setting over the ranch in pinks and oranges flooded my mind. Clearing my throat, I said, “That’s okay, Ted. Thanks for thinking of me. I’ll find something else.”
“I told Brody to call me if something opens up at the ranch, anything at all. Hang in there, G. And please, let me know if there is anything I can do. Hang on a sec… what’s that, Kaley?” A pause, Ted’s hand making a shuffling noise on the base of th
e phone. “Kaley says call her if you need some time for girl talk. Day or night.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I managed to choke out, “Sure thing, Ted. Tell Kaley thanks.” Like I wanted to talk to a blissed out, drop dead gorgeous, super sweet girl—engaged to one of the best guys on the planet—about my broken heart?
“See ya, Georgia. Let me know how you’re doing so I’m not worrying about you. This week is crazy busy but let’s get lunch next Saturday. Okay?”
“Sure thing.”
“Take care of yourself, kiddo.”
“You too.”
Tossing the phone into the rumpled quilt, I groaned, throwing my arm over my eyes. The breath of hope for a fresh start, however anxiety-ridden it had been, left my body.
My mind wandered to Ted’s and my conversation at the breakroom table. Brody’s a spanking man repeated over and over in my head. I glanced over at the laptop on my nightstand. With this devastating blow and no liquor to mend my wounds, I needed… something to occupy my time and mind.
Giving in to my carnal desires, I grabbed my computer, sitting up in my bed and fluffing pillows behind me. Placing my well-loved laptop on my thighs, I began to relax. A small tingling of excitement began to work its way below my waist in anticipation of what my little Mac Air would peruse up from the internet.
“Hmmmm… what fantasy have I not yet checked out?” But I knew exactly what I was looking for—spankings. I jumped a foot in the air as I heard the drop of ice from the icemaker in the fridge. I put the laptop back down on my bed. Hopping up, I shut and locked the door to my bedroom. Regina wasn’t home, but… just to be on the safe side. I jiggled the knob. It was secure. “That’s better.”
Flopping back down on the bed, I re-fluffed the pillows and settled down. A comforting blue glow shone from the screen as I flipped open the laptop. I began typing the words of the first scene that came to my mind—Husband spanks wife for overspending.
Ten results popped up on the page, including one video. My mouse hovered over the frozen frame. A tall, handsome man in his thirties wearing a white button-down shirt tucked into black pants stood behind a large mahogany desk. His hands were on his hips. A ‘you’re in big trouble’ look rested on his stern face.
The pretty blonde woman he was staring at—presumably his wife—had her hands up in the air, her mouth open in protest. And of course, she was wearing a very flirty, very short red skirt he would inevitably flip up over her bottom. Yum.
“They look like a pretty normal couple.” Anticipation, desire, and a touch of guilt washed over me as I hit play.
Starla’s gaping mouth began to move, her voice a high, pretty trill, her arms waving in protest. “Gregory, I swear I had no idea how much I was spending. It just added up. And you should see the dresses I bought. They were sooooooo cute. I was thinking of you the whole time I was shopping. You’re going to love them.”
“Young lady,” Gregory began in his oh-so-sexy British accent, “have you so soon forgotten the little chat we had last week about this very same matter? I believe you were given a very clear warning.”
She looked down at his large hands now pressed into the desk. Crossing her arms in front of her, she said, “Um, maybe? That was a long time ago.”
“Starla,” he said sternly—could they find less soap opera-ish names for these people?—one of his hands moving from the desk to his belt buckle in a warning. I gulped, holding my breath. “What did I tell you would happen if I caught you overspending on this credit card again?”
Twirling a strand of her hair innocently around her finger, Starla feigned ignorance. “Um, I really can’t remember, Gregory. Take the card away?” she suggested helpfully.
“Starla, answer me now or so help me God I will take this belt off and—”
“You said, you said, you would… spank me!” Covering her face with her hands to hide her humiliation, Starla began to fake cry.
“That’s right, darling. I’m so proud of you for saying that.”
I cringed at the cheesiness of his words. But I couldn’t deny the dampness that was creeping into my panties as Gregory rounded the desk, heading right for Starla. And the way he spoke to her in that father figure tone. Totally should have had me throwing the computer against the wall in disgust. And yet…
Pulling out a chair in front of the desk, Gregory hitched up the material of his dress pants on his thighs, as if not to wrinkle them, and patted his lap.
“Come, come, wifey. I’ll never delay a punishment. You know that. I’ve promised you a smacked bottom, and that is what you shall receive. Over my lap like a good girl.”
Starla pouted, her full bottom lip sticking out as she stood before her seated husband. “But I promise I won’t overspend again. You don’t have to spank me. Please, please—don’t spank me, Gregory.” Her hands went to her full bottom, clutching at her cheeks, the material of her skirt lifting as she did, just enough for us to see a peek of white cotton panties.
I wanted to be Starla.
And now, I would never even have the chance to know what it was like to meet a real life spanking man.
Starla made her way over Gregory’s lap.
First, several soft swats over the skirt. Then, as I predicted, the flouncy red material came up and over her bottom. Harder smacks landed over the panties. Starla was oohing and ouching all the way, while Gregory’s firm voice told her what a very naughty girl she was. When he was through spanking her over the panties, he said, “Lessons are best learned on the bare.”
“Oh, Greggy, please don’t pull my panties down! Don’t spank me on my bare bottom. Please, Greggy, it’s sooo humiliating.” For the finale, Gregory pulled those little white panties down, around the tops of her thighs. He paused to lecture Starla on the ins and outs of budgeting and obedience. Then, his large, flat palm came down onto the pinkened cheeks of her bare bottom in hard, sharp, continuous slaps.
He did a sound job—obviously a spanking pro.
When the spanking was over, tears streamed down Starla’s face—which was as red as her ass—as she apologized, hands rubbing at her cherry red bottom.
Gregory shuffled his sobbing wife to the desk. Her lowered panties constricted her moves in a humbling way. Bending her roughly over the edge of the desk, he commanded, “Skirts up, my darling. I’m going to punish your naughty bottom… inside and out.”
I gasped right along with Starla as Gregory grabbed a tube of lubricant that had magically made its way onto the desktop in between takes.
Starla cried, “Not my bottom, oh, Gregory, please don’t put your huge, rock-hard cock in my poor little, tight bottom hole!” She looked over her shoulder in fake terror.
I would have laughed at the over the top script and bad acting—if I hadn’t been so turned on.
“I’m sorry, Starla, but it’s the only way you know I mean business. Your bottom needs to be thoroughly punished so the next time you go off on one of your shopping excursions, you’ll remember what happens to bad girls and think twice about overspending.”
His deft fingers had his belt unbuckled, zipper down, and huge, hairless, fully erect cock sprung from his pants in seconds.
“What a pro,” I whispered as sniffling Starla eyed the cock over her shoulder with the same hunger I probably had on my face.
“Oh, Greggy. You’ll never get that massive cock in my tiny bottom!” Starla protested.
“Yes, I will. I’ve been preparing your bottom for this very day, in case you chose to disobey me. What do you think all those plugs were for?”
A flash of huge purple words popped up on the screen: Like anal? Check out the first three episodes of Gregory and Starla for butt plug action!
Suddenly, I felt very dirty as the tip of his lubed-up cock pressed her entrance, slowly entered, then plunged into her little puckering hole. The animal-like groan of pleasure that came from within her did not sound like acting.
X-ing out the window, I cleared my history, then flipped the top of the lapt
op down.
The squeak filled the room as I pulled my nightstand drawer open. Time to have a little one on one time with Jack.
Chapter Two
One month later
“Tonight, the special is a juicy cheddar beer brat paired with a lovely citrus Hefeweizen.” Adjusting my lederhosen, I smiled brightly from between my long dark braids. Schnitzels ‘n More never had a more committed waitress.
The elderly couple before me eyed my perkiness suspiciously as they looked over their menu. Tugging at my short dress, I tried to look the part of a German beer wench. As humiliating as the get-up was, the tips were awesome. And so, every morning, I happily donned my Mieder top dirndl dress.
After painstakingly reading every inch of the menu, the couple finally placed their order for the safest bet at the trendy German pub—two cheeseburgers. “Good choice,” I smiled. The woman gave a sigh of relief. My guess was that friends of theirs had suggested the restaurant, only for them to come and get weirded out by our authentic menu.
“I’ll just get this order in—the burgers here are awesome,” I said to the woman. She gave me a grateful smile as I headed to the kitchen.
Thank God I had this job. It was demanding work; the costume was degrading and by the end of the night I went home with aching feet and my hair reeking of bratwurst. But I was no longer unemployed.
And I hadn’t had a drink since that last shot of tequila before hitting the floor of the bar.
But it had been a long month. And now look where I was—a sober, apartment-shopping waitress. The first week had been hell. Before I found my job, I’d been locked in my room, avoiding Regina. Every night when the clock struck five p.m., I would be sitting on my bed, twiddling my thumbs, practically barricading the door to keep talking myself out of slapping on makeup, grabbing my purse, and finding a new bar to get wasted in. I hadn’t even done my laundry—too afraid I would wind up at Suds ‘n Duds instead of the Wash ‘n Dry. But somehow, I had managed.
His Ranch, His Rules Page 3