Fort Laramie

by Courage Knight

  "Okay. What else do we talk about then, Carrie? Why don't you tell me why you've been in such a snit all week?"

  "Me? You! You were the one avoiding me."

  "I was avoiding you, because you were snapping at me every time I came within earshot."

  "I was snapping at you because you were avoiding me!"

  "Okay, this is silly. I don't know who avoided whom first, Carrie, but if you had just asked me what was wrong instead of snapping at me, we could have worked this out like intelligent adults."

  "I thought maybe you didn't like me anymore," she whispered.

  Oh man, if that wasn't a come on, he didn't know what was. Did that mean she liked him now? If he asked her out again, would she change her answer? He wasn't going to give her the chance. He was just going to take her out, damn it! Enough of these silly undergrad games. It didn't matter that she was an undergrad - she was too sweet, too nice to be playing them anyway.

  Tom reached into the tub and pulled the plug.

  "Please go, Tom. Let me get dressed," Carrie begged.

  "Nothing doing. You could fall and get hurt. Julie isn't here to help you, she's with Adrian having a similar discussion right now."

  Tom took Carrie's hands and helped her to stand on her good foot. Then he gently dried her, using several of the tiny motel rectangles euphemistically referred to as towels. He dried her tangled hair, and then took her comb and very gently worked it through the long tresses. Carrie fidgeted and fussed, trying to hold a tiny towel over her breasts while he worked. Eventually she gave up, still nibbling her lower lip.

  Tom lifted her then and carried her to the bedroom. He sat down on the bed, still holding her on his lap. "Carrie, I've made no secret of how I feel about you. I wish you could say the same. You've pushed me away, and then you act mad when I don't come crawling back. So I have to assume that either you do like me, which would be nice, or you like to tease me, which isn't nice at all. So which is it?"

  "Huh?"

  "Are you nice, Carrie? Or are you a flirtatious tease?"

  "Um, the first one," she stammered.

  Tom was almost overwhelmed with a great feeling of relief. She liked him! She did have feelings for him! He would wait however long it took for her to be ready, but just knowing that she liked him made the wait worthwhile. He helped her to stand in front of him, between his knees. He nudged her chin up so she would have to look him in the eye. "Now tell me, Carrie, why you are going to be spanked."

  "I don't want to be spanked," she whispered.

  He slapped her exposed bottom once, hard. She braced her hands on his shoulders and lowered her eyes. He nudged her chin up again. "Carrie," he said warningly.

  "You are going to spank me, because Julie and I stole Adrian's van. We drove into town without permission. We - I. I didn't respect you enough to ask you first."

  "And?"

  "And I'm sorry," she finished.

  "You're sorry because you were caught?"

  "No. I didn't try to hide it. I knew you'd come after us. At least, I figured you would. Maybe I hoped you would. If you came after me, then I'd know you still cared for me. If you'd stayed at the camp until we came back, I'd have known that you'd moved on, and I was nothing more than a responsibility to you."

  "So what are you sorry for, Carrie," Tom urged. He had to make her say it, or he knew they would be in this position again in the near future.

  "I'm sorry that I didn't show you the proper respect," Carrie said, looking him right in the eyes.

  "Thank you, Carrie. I'm sorry you didn't either. And now, you're going to be spanked to help you remember to respect me - to respect us and our relationship - in the future."

  "Can't I just get a bye this time?"

  "A bye?"

  "Yeah, you know. Like a pass. A freebie. A get-out-of-jail free card."

  "No, Carrie. Not this time. Besides, your girlfriend is going to be sitting on a very red bottom tonight. And this was more your idea than hers, wasn't it?"

  "What? Adrian's going to spank her? You can't - he can't! She'll hate it! Tom, you have to stop him!"

  "I think it's too late for that now, honey. Adrian is more likely to spank first and talk later. Now enough about them. This is between you and me. I spanked you once last week for disrespect. This is a second time for the same thing - I'm going to be much more thorough this time."

  "Please don't do this," she whispered, yet her breath was coming in short gasps. Her naked breasts rose and fell. She leaned in to him, practically begging him to take her. Her body language was in complete opposition to her spoken plea. She wanted him to spank her! Curiously, he let his hand slide down her thigh, then cup her sex. It was moist, and rather than pulling away from him, she rubbed herself against his hand.

  "You know I have to, darling," he murmured. "Now put yourself over my knees."

  Carrie sighed, but obediently lay down over his lap, wiggling a bit to make herself more comfortable. She would have to notice his hard on, but if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she submitted herself to him completely.

  He admired her shapely bottom for a moment. This was a monumental step for them. She was willingly and obediently submitting to him, not because he was bigger and stronger, but because she wanted to. She liked him, she trusted him, and she wanted this from him. If she really hadn't wanted to be spanked, she wouldn't have taken the van. She would have just asked him first. He almost didn't want to spank her now, except that he knew she needed it. He just wished they could skip over to the kiss-and-make-up part! But then he remembered how angry he had been, how worried when he didn't know where she'd gone, or if she'd gone to the airport. Suddenly, the urge to spank her within an inch of her life returned and he brought his palm down smartly across both cheeks.

  "Ow!" she cried.

  He slapped her ass again, on first one cheek and then the other. Over and over again. A rhythm of smacks. Then two on one side, or three on the other, so she couldn't anticipate where it was going to land next. Her bottom brightened to pink and gradually to red, then scarlet. It was starting to give off some heat. She kicked a little, but not that much. She cried a little, too. But her bottom seemed to raise up to meet his hand, begging for more. And so he met her demands.

  Then he moved on to her thighs, because this was supposed to be a punishment, after all. That got her attention. She didn't like having the backs of her legs spanked at all. This was not erotic or intimate or pleasing. This was purely painful. Tom spanked her thighs until they were as red as her bottom, and her cries were much more heartfelt and sincere. Still, he wasn't ready to end it. She had to know that a real spanking was something serious, something to be avoided, and not a prelude to sex, although he was sure they would be having sex tonight. She'd teased him long enough. It was time to claim what was his... and unless she told him to stop, they were going to seal their relationship.

  Tom helped her off his lap and held her to steady her for a moment.

  "Are we done yet," she sobbed.

  "No, honey. Almost, but not yet."

  "Please, I'll be good, I'll be good, I promise!"

  Tom chuckled softly. He kissed her forehead. "I know better, Carrie. I have no doubt that we'll be in this position again, and very soon."

  "Oh God, I hope not!"

  "What are you going to do from now on," he prodded.

  "Show you respect," she answered immediately.

  "Good girl. You have just ten more coming, but I need you to lie down on the bed for this."

  Carrie crawled onto the mattress obediently, without another word.

  Tom tucked a pillow under her hips, raising the target. Then he pulled his belt from the loops and folded it in half, tucking the buckle into his palm so it wouldn't damage her tender flesh. "Carrie, you need to count these. If you stop, we'll start over with one."

  "Yes, sir," she answered. Her hips trembled, but she pressed her sex into the pillow. This was really turning her on! Tom slung the belt, hearing a solid sma
ck across her reddened ass moments later. She cried out, a sound much more painful than she had yet to make. "Oh, oh, that hurts, that hurts!"

  "Carrie," he warned.

  "Oh, one! One! Dammit!"

  "Just one, Carrie. No more swearing, that's disrespectful." Tom knew he was pushing it, but he was new to this whole spanking thing. He had googled it a lot the last few months after Adrian first suggested it, but it was very different reading about it, or watching a video of someone getting spanked, to actually doing it himself. He raised his arm and swung again, landing the second swat nearly on top of the first.

  "Ow, ow! Two! Please, no more, Tom!"

  And so it went. She cried out each time, counting them all, and yet her pert little scarlet bottom rose up off the pillow as if seeking the next, eager for it, reaffirmed when it came, that this was his expression of love for her. He loved her enough to discipline her. He loved her enough to come looking for her. And he wondered what had happened to her to make her feel so poorly about herself.

  Finally, the tenth one came and went. Her bottom was livid. A few spots were starting to turn purple. She was sobbing hard, but when he stretched out on the bed next to her, she snuggled eagerly into his arms. He held her while she cried herself to sleep. And as she slept, he wondered how long she would go before he had to spank her again.

  Chapter 4

  Adrian unlocked the door and kicked it shut behind him. He tossed the key in the direction of the desk. It clattered across the smooth surface and landed on the carpet. Julie was still kicking and struggling, but she was no match for him. She wasn't even as strong as Carrie, who was a head shorter than she was. Julie was a princess - he'd heard Carrie call her that a number of times. She was tall and slender and regal looking, but she was a bit of a snob, too. She ignored him completely, dismissing him as though he were beneath her. And that made him furious. He wasn't handsome, he knew that, just average in the looks department. But he was a great guy! His ex-girlfriends always told him so. In fact, he was still friends with most of them. He was funny, smart, talented, and he could be romantic if the mood hit him. At the moment, though, he was just pissed. No one took his van, no one! He would make sure this little princess never crossed him again, and treated him with respect the rest of the summer, or else!

  "Let me go, you pervert!" she screamed.

  "Pervert? That's a new one," he said dryly. "Or what? You'll go to the cops? You do, and I'll press charges for stealing my van."

  "Okay, we're even. Let's just call it a draw."

  "No, we aren't even yet, but we will be, princess," he vowed. He sat on the bed and swung her over his lap. She managed to get a swing at him, connecting with his check. It stung. It would undoubtedly leave a mark, thanks to his redhead complexion. But she would pay for that one, too. He wrangled her into position, bringing his palm down sharply across her barely-covered ass. She shrieked, renewed her efforts to break free, but it was useless. He knew eight-year-olds with more strength than she had. And wielding a forge had built his muscles, making him much stronger than he looked. He was naturally tall and lanky. Clothes had a tendency to hang on him. But beneath the baggy tee shirt was a rock solid chest with finely chiseled abs, better than any television commercial for exercise equipment. She would never take him for granted again!

  "Please stop, stop! Don't do this," she begged.

  "I'm not stopping until I'm ready to stop, princess," he barked. "And that's not going to be for a long, long time. I promise you that."

  "You're a beast!"

  "Yes, I am."

  "You're impossible!"

  "That, too."

  "Oh, I hate you!"

  "Right back at you, princess!"

  Adrian stopped talking then, it was just making him angrier. He swung his hand at her bony little ass again and again. The baby doll pajamas were in the way. With a quick twist, the skimpy bottoms ripped free, leaving her lower half naked. She screamed at him, which was like music to his ears. He continued to rain down solid whack after whack to her backside, but felt he wasn't getting anywhere. She either had a high pain threshold, or he wasn't as strong as he thought. He'd come prepared, though, because he'd known exactly what he was going to do to her when he caught her. He'd been planning for this moment ever since he first saw her, first became attracted to her and she ignored him. If she ever crossed him, he was going to give her a reason to remember him. He took off his belt, folding it down to a manageable length, and beat her bottom with it, hard. Over and over. Swat after swat. Both cheeks, one cheek, the other cheek, then the backs of her thighs. Her bottom turned red, then scarlet. Her thighs were scarlet to match. She was crying harder now, but he didn't care. When her bottom started to bruise, he tossed the belt aside and returned to just spanking her.

  Finally, it happened. He felt her let go. The fight went out of her. She stopped struggling, stopped screaming at him, and just lay across his lap, submissive and remorseful, at last. He gave her twenty more firm spanks, just to make sure she got the message loud and clear. And then he stopped.

  She was crying too hard to realize he'd stopped at first. He let her cry it out, trying to be indifferent to her tears, but he wasn't a total jerk. He had hurt her. Her bottom was bruising. Maybe he'd gone too far, punished her too much? But it was her fault, damn it! She didn't have to be such a hard ass. She stirred, starting to get up, but he swatted her bottom again.

  "Ow, ow, damn it! Why did you do that," she sobbed.

  "Because I can."

  "You're mean."

  "And you're a car thief," he replied. He rather liked this conversation. It was much easier to talk to this woman's bruised bottom than her sneering face.

  "You have to know that we never intended to keep it," she said. "We just wanted to return to civilization for a day."

  "There you go again with the criticism. Tom has worked his ass off to make that rest area more suitable for you, princess. Have you ever thanked him?"

  She didn't answer, so he gave her another swat. This one was barely there, just a love pat, really, but she cried out anyway. Her nerve endings must all be standing up at attention now.

  "Huh?" he prodded.

  "No, I didn't. I'm sorry," she said.

  "I'm not the one you need to apologize for that, princess. Tom is."

  "I will. I'll tell him I'm sorry," she said. "Please, let me up."

  "Not yet."

  She signed, her breath catching a bit as she hadn't completely returned to normal yet from crying so hard.

  "Why do you act like that," he asked quietly.

  "Like what?"

  He gave he a swat, harder than he intended.

  She gasped. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she screamed. "What way, tell me how you want me to act, and I'll change, I promise!"

  "I want you to stop ignoring me, princess. I'm not the wad of chewing gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. I'm not some mindless twit, ready to take your emotional abuse just to catch a glimpse of your awesomeness, your highness. Show me some respect! A simple 'Good morning' on occasion. I have said good morning to you ever single day this week, and you have never acknowledged that."

  "I'm sorry," she repeated.

  "So why do you do that?"

  "I don't know!"

  "Think about it! Think hard, princess!" He swatted her again.

  "Will you stop that!"

  "No!"

  "Please stop that!"

  "Not until you answer me," Adrian shouted.

  "Because I can?"

  She tried a tearful laugh, repeating his own excuse back at him.

  Adrian chuckled too.

  "Please let me up, it is really hard to talk this way," she said.

  "Actually, this is the best conversation we've ever had. I think I'll keep you like this a bit longer."

  "You're a beast!"

  "I know."

  "I hate you!"

  "I know that, too, princess."

  "Stop calling me that!"

  "If the shoe fi
ts-."

  "Argh!

  Adrian spanked her several times, playful now, lightly, but just enough to let her know he was still in control. It hurt her, but only because she had a very spanked bottom. "You act like a princess," he said. "Even your girlfriend calls you that."

  "But it’s funny when she does," Julie whispered.

  "It isn't funny anymore."

  "I can't change who I am," Julie said. This time her tears were genuine. They weren't tears of pain or humiliation, but pent up tears from a lifetime of withholding them. Adrian felt something in her change. He felt her deep-rooted sobs shake her as though her heart were breaking. He helped her up and held her. She wrapped her long legs around him, one on either side, so that her punished ass wasn't touching anything, but her bottom was naked, and her pussy was right there, right against his hard on. He tried not to think about it. The girl was suffering, but the more he held her and patted her back, the more his dick wanted to comfort her in the most intimate way imaginable. Apparently, she felt the same way, because she started kissing him. She kissed his neck, his ear, even his big nose. She ran her fingers through his hair, and rubbed her sex against his dick. She took control then, and he let her. He lay back on the bed and let this incredibly sexy woman make love to him.

  She tugged the zipper on his shorts and ripped them off, then wrapped her lips around his hard cock. He almost lost it right then, and it would be over too soon. He fought to hold on, struggled to think of something other than how fantastic she made him feel. He tried to let her finish what she'd started, but he realized that she was still performing. This was what she thought he needed from her. This was her way of apologizing. Suddenly, he wasn't so eager. Instead, he moved away, pushing her on to her back. He would please her first, he would please her second. Maybe he wouldn't let her please him at all. This was one messed up princess, but he was up to the challenge. He would teach her that she was enough. She didn't have to be perfect. She didn't have to perform like a runway model. She could just be Julie Martin, whoever the hell that turned out to be.