His Ranch, His Rules

by Shanna Handel

  “Okay, okay. Just kidding,” I said, flashing what I hoped was a cute grin. Turning back to the screen, I pointed to the second column. “You see this rectangle here? This is where the sum of your feed should have been, but the formula you put in here is multiplying the numbers, not adding them. It has the cost wrong—and astronomical—and that’s what’s messing up the bottom line of your expenses. Thus, causing your cost to outweigh your profit, making you show red, instead of the black for the month.”

  He looked on. “I see.”

  “But if I just do this…” I deleted the formula in the cell and created a sum formula to replace it. “Ta-da!” I dramatically pressed the enter key, and all the pretty numbers fell into place as they should, showing CLAS Ranch’s very profitable income for that month. “Now you are in the black. Whoa—really in the black.” I leaned forward to get a better look at his family’s total profit for the month.

  Brody gave me a ‘no, no,’ sign with his finger, pulling the screen from my view—he was done with having me viewing his net worth. “How’d you get so good at math?”

  “College. People are always surprised by how much math is required to get a bachelor’s degree as a veterinarian technician. If I didn’t love animals so much, I’d probably have been a CPA.”

  “Well, I’m impressed.” He turned to me. “And thank you.”

  A blush rose in my cheeks as I replied, “Welcome.”

  Closing his laptop, he pushed it across the table. “Now we have one more matter to attend to.”

  “What?”

  “The dishes were for sneaking the liquor onto this ranch. But I have a much more serious bone to pick with you.” Dread pooling in my stomach as he continued. “I know you lied.”

  “About what?”

  “About what you were going to do with that liquor.”

  “Oh… that.”

  “Yes, that. I believe what you said about being ‘done with that stuff’—for now. However, I do not believe that it was your intention to ‘pour it out.’ I have a feeling you were keeping it for backup in case you fell off the wagon here at Clean Living and Sunshine.” His brow raised in a fatherly way that made me melt—he had at least five years on me, maybe more—and asked, “Now tell me the truth, young lady. Are my suspicions correct?”

  I held my breath, considering my options.

  I could run from the room, becoming homeless and jobless and possibly a late-night snack for a bear.

  I could deny it. Lie and tell him his suspicions were not correct. And further lose his trust.

  Or, I could tell the truth. And face the consequences. For the first time in months I was desperate to be held accountable for my actions. To have someone care, really care, whether I made good choices.

  I took a deep breath.

  “You’re right. It may have momentarily crossed my mind for a teensy weensy second to hide them in case I wanted them later. But—I will go to my cabin right now and pour them down the drain and never, ever bring any liquid stronger than a Pepsi onto your ranch ever again. I swear!”

  A tiny wave of relief washed over me as I detected what looked like a suppressed grin on Brody’s face. Maybe he thought I was cute? Even adorable? I fluttered my eyelashes just a touch, tilting my head just so, trying not to overdo it. Hoping to soften this hard-ass cowboy.

  “You will be doing that. And I will be accompanying you to make sure it gets done as you have not yet earned my trust. But first, there are consequences to your actions.”

  Prickles of heat danced up the back of my neck. “What… w-what consequences?”

  A ‘don’t play dumb with me’ look crossed his face as he raised an eyebrow. “I told you. Ted is family and seeing as you are like a little sister to my cousin, I’m treating you like family, which means I’m not kicking you off the ranch and driving you to the nearest bus station right now. There is a strict code on this ranch. I’m the boss and what I say goes. And when little girls disobey my rules, act sneaky, and worst of all, lie right to my face, they are corrected.”

  “Ah… um… err,” I poetically stuttered as I tried not to fall out of my chair.

  Laying his forearm on the table top, he leaned in, his thigh pressing hard against mine, his face inches away, brown eyes locked on mine. I couldn’t look away.

  When he spoke, it was with a calm confidence that made my knees tremble. “I know you know I’m a spanking man.”

  Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I was sure he could hear my heart beating out of my erect-nippled chest. There was no way this was happening. This must be a dream sequence. There was just no way that Georgia Hamilton, strong woman identifying as a feminist, was going to let this man—who I had known for less than six hours—spank my ass.

  Right?

  Slowly, like a meerkat who had just discovered the tiger lurking in the bushes, trying not to draw attention to myself, I began inching out of my seat. I would try to make a break for it.

  Leaning back in his chair, Brody crossed his arms over his chest. Quietly he asked, “Going somewhere?”

  Fantasizing about being spanked by a cowboy, and it suddenly becoming reality, were two very, very different things.

  “Uh, I’m just really tired from washing all those dishes. I think I might go lie down and maybe we can pick up this little chat in the morning after we’ve both had some time to rest…” I was fully standing at this time and began to back up from the table as I chattered, “You know… think things over… really t-talk this through. Maybe even look up some employee/employer laws—”

  “The only law on this ranch is mine.” He stood from his chair. He took a long stride in my direction.

  “Erm…” Heat flushed in my face, my useless tongue felt swollen in my mouth.

  The tall cowboy took another step, closing the gap between us. “The way I see it is you’ve been living life a little too out of control lately. Drinking, passing out, getting fired, lying. Is that really who you want to be? A little firm-handed discipline is exactly what you need to get yourself back on track, Miss Georgia.” He stopped his advance, standing within arm’s reach of me. His muscular frame suddenly seemed larger than life.

  My rear end bumped into the table behind me, my hands wrapping around the edge of it to steady myself. Brody stopped one foot away from where I stood. “I… err…”

  “Exactly.” Before I had time to react, Brody’s hands were on my waist. My heart beat hard in my chest as I tried to wiggle my way free from his grasp. It was no use—his hands were like vises. Guiding my unwilling torso, he turned me, pinning my stomach against the edge of the table. Panic filled me as my sweaty palms pressed into the table top. Brody’s rock-hard forearm wrapped around my waist, pinning me in place. Every muscle in my body tensed as I froze in place.

  Hips digging into the edge of the table, I resigned to my fate, shocking myself by my lack of struggle. Is this what I had come to? Letting a good-looking cowboy press me into a dining table, ready to take my punishment from him, all just to hold a job? But from the tingles that ran through me as the heat radiated from his body against me, the strength of his hold, the sheer power he held over me, I knew I was submitting to more than my boss punishing me.

  I was submitting myself to this man’s power. And his lifestyle. A lifestyle I had been investigating on the internet for weeks now. My ex-boyfriend fantasies replaced by dominant men spanking their errant women.

  I wanted this. I needed this.

  And Brody knew it.

  But that didn’t mean I was ready for it.

  Nerves hit me, butterflies filling my tummy. “Hang on, hang on, I just—I just…is this going to hurt?”

  To my embarrassment, a chuckle came from above my head. “Have you never been spanked before?”

  “No.”

  “I believe it, considering the way you’ve neglected your health and safety recently. Zero self-discipline. Ted talks about you—a lot. He worries about you, you know.”

  A groan rose up from
the center of my being. I was dying of embarrassment.

  “Since you’ve never been spanked before, let me fill you in. My hand comes down and paddles your ass until you are crying real tears, begging me to stop, and promising to be a very good little girl for the rest of your life.”

  Panic filled me. “I am sorry. I truly am. I will be good, I promise. You don’t even have to spank me. See, Brody—I’m already there.”

  His hand came down with a loud slap, the sound echoing in the empty dining hall. Fire in the shape of a hand print burned on my rear—the pain was not something I had included in my fantasies. I let out a yelp of shock and surprise, and would have jumped a foot in the air, had my body not been so expertly pinned to the table by my new boss.

  Looking over my shoulder, I protested in anger, “That hurt, Brody Jenkins!”

  Chuckling, he said, “That was nothing but a love tap, princess. Just a warmup.”

  If that was a warmup, I had to get out of here. Submission be damned! Struggling with all my might, I tried to wiggle my waist free and break out of his strong-armed hold.

  The sharpest slaps I have ever felt landed on the tops of my thighs. “Oh, my God! Ow!” I cried as the burn settled in.

  “Those were just extras. Stop wiggling or I’ll spank your thighs some more, then your bottom.”

  My hips froze. There was no getting out of this. And I did not want another smack like that on the tops of my thighs—ever. I was going to have to submit myself to this punishment. And the fact that I had earned it, fair and square, as caveman-like as it may seem, hit me like a ton of bricks. I was only three spanks in and already tears were burning at the backs of my eyes. I squeaked out, “I’ll stop!”

  “Good girl,” he crooned. Two sharp slaps landed, one on the center of each of my denim-clad cheeks. I bit my lip to keep from crying out as he spoke. “Lying is ugly. Lying keeps people from being able to trust you. Doesn’t it, Georgia?”

  “Yes, sir.” His hand started showering down spanks all over my bottom. So quickly his punishment had my behind beyond uncomfortable, my weight shifting on the balls of my feet. The spanks were coming down fast, each one lighting a fire on a different part of my ass. The tears that stung my eyes threatened to fall. “Ow, ow, ow,” I whimpered.

  “I’m gonna spank this lying habit right out of your system, young lady. When I ask you a question, I expect an honest answer. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir!” I rose up on my tippy toes as the spanking continued in earnest. My bottom was on fire. This was nothing like the sexy over the knee spanking I had fantasized about. This was pain! I was truly being punished. And I didn’t know how much more I could take. “I’m sorry, Brody. I promise I won’t lie anymore! Please stop spanking me!” I begged, the tears forming in my eyes now falling.

  Brody did not reply. His lecturing stopped, but the spanking continued, harder and faster now. All I could focus on was the blistering as my torso limply lay on the table, the smacks and spanks falling on my sore bottom. Then something unexpected happened.

  My mind shifted to the past few months of my life. The mistakes I had made, the people I had let down, the shame I had felt. The look of disappointment in my boss Darlene’s eyes. Regina, when she came to the door to find me laid out on the bathroom, face down on the tiles. I saw how my actions were affecting others—beyond feeling sorry for myself because of the breakup.

  The spanking—being punished—had somehow made me truly sorry for my behavior. Tears flowed down my face as I broke into heavy sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I muttered to myself.

  The spanking stopped.

  The arm that had me trapped helped me up from the table. Both of Brody’s arms surrounded me, pulling me hard into his chest. Tucking my arms into the cocoon of Brody’s body, I wiped at my eyes, my nose, sniffling as he held me. When I had wiped away most of the tears, I lay my head back on his chest.

  “Shh, shh, you’re all right,” he crooned softly. One of his hands pressed into my lower back, holding me close against him. The other lightly traced lines up and down my back, then went up my neck, smoothing my messy ponytail. Being held against his chest, the heat from his body surrounding me, the sound of his quiet shushing, my punished bottom burning—it was the safest I had felt since I could remember. My sobbing subsided as I melted into his embrace. His hand continued to rub my back as I calmed.

  Miraculously—though my ass was absolutely throbbing underneath my jeans—I felt better. A whole lot better. How was that possible?

  I looked up at Brody, feeling shy after my emotional display. “That was… cleansing,” I said.

  A grin crossed his face. He gently tucked a strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail behind my ear—I found the small gesture incredibly endearing. “That’s the way a punishment spanking works. You pay the price for your misdeeds, and you are free.”

  And you know that there is someone in this world who cares about you enough to correct you.

  That wasn’t the case, was it? We had just met. He was just doing his job. Reining in an out of control employee who he felt too sorry for to kick out. Right?

  But I felt so good in his arms.

  I snuck a look up at him. He stood a good head taller than me. There was a look in his eyes as he smiled down at me that told me this was not just a case of sympathy.

  Pressing my head back down on his chest—I was not ready for him to take his arms from around my back—a contented sigh escaped my lips. Brody rested his chin lightly on my head.

  “A perfect fit,” he murmured.

  Tucked underneath his chin, his arms wrapped around me, I had been thinking the same thing. But I couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth.

  His hand made one final trip down my back, then a pang of loneliness pricked at my chest as he broke our perfect hold. Hands on my shoulders, moving me from him, he held me at arm’s length, looking me over. His brow furrowed with concern. “You going to be okay, Georgia?” he asked.

  I gave a nod, wiping at my damp eyes. Smiling, I said, “I think I will be… now.”

  “Good.” He gave a nod. “You need to get to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.”

  “What about the bottles?”

  “I trust you to do what you need to do. Goodnight, Georgia.”

  An emptiness washed over me—he was dismissing me. What did I expect? Him to invite me to his bunk for a sleepover? Still, after what we had just shared, I yearned for more contact. I didn’t want to be away from him… not yet. I wanted to be pressed against his chest, to have his hands and voice assuring me that all would be well. I couldn’t seem to accept that Brody and I were going to be separated till the morning.

  How silly of me. I had just met this man—what? A few hours ago? Get it together, Georgia. I grabbed my flashlight from the table, heading to the door of the Mess Hall. I allowed myself one last peek over my shoulder. Brody was watching my exit, hands on his hips and a look on his face that seemed to say, don’t go.

  The desire to linger was strong, but I settled for a quick farewell. “Goodnight, Brody. And… thanks. For… everything.”

  A smile crossed his face, his eyes twinkling as he said, “Goodnight, Georgia.”

  The Mess Hall door closed behind me with a quiet click, as I made my way into the dark night.

  * * *

  Beep, beep, beep, beep, the alarm blared into my eardrum from my phone’s hiding place under my pillow. After my punishment last night, I was not taking any chances on being late for my first day of work.

  “It’s not even light outside, yet,” I mumbled, reaching under my pillow to grab at my phone and make the bleeping stop. The white numbers read 5:00 a.m. I racked my brain trying to remember if I had ever woken up this early since my internship on Maggie’s farm. Nope.

  With a yawn I stretched my arms over my head. I had slept like a baby last night. Was it the fresh air that had done it? Or the embarrassingly cleansing spanking the brawny cowboy had administered to
my backside? My cheeks burned at the memory of my hips pinned to the Mess Hall table, his hard, flat palm coming down over and over.

  The way he held me in his arms afterward as I cried. Perfect fit.

  I was startled from my memories by a familiar voice and knocking on the front door of the cabin. “Rise and shine, princess! Early bird catches the worm.”

  “Shit,” I murmured, looking down at my attire. My short shorts and floral tank top pajamas were not covering enough skin to open the door to Brody. And I thought for sure I’d have more time upon waking to collect my thoughts and feelings about the strange relationship that had begun between us. As the rapping on the door continued, I accepted that that wasn’t going to happen.

  No one in their right mind should be awake this early.

  “Just a minute,” I called, then grumbled, “Keep your shirt on,” under my breath. Was that a chuckle I heard on the other side of the door? Fumbling through the drawers of the dresser, I grabbed my old college sweatshirt, pulling it on over my skimpy tank.

  Cussing as I tripped over the discarded duffle bag on my way to the door, I took a second to smooth my hair. Breathing into my hand, I checked to make sure it wasn’t too ripe. A nervous smile planted itself on my face and I took a deep breath, opening the door.

  Brody stood casually, one elbow resting on the frame of the door, like he owned the place—which he did. His worn jeans were slung around his hips, held there by the same belt from yesterday. The three top buttons of his long-sleeve work shirt were undone, showing just a hint of bronzed skin beneath. An amused smile exposed his white, straight teeth. The golden waves of his hair were damp, fresh from a shower. The piney scent of his soap and aftershave hit me hard in the pit of my stomach.

  Why did my new boss have to be so damned distractingly hot, and smell so good? It really wasn’t fair.

  “Good morning,” he drawled as I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

  “Morning,” I replied, hoping he couldn’t hear the quickening of my heartbeat in my chest as he took a step toward me. A flush tortured my face thinking about the fact that he had spanked me.