“I don’t know about that, he seems pretty mad,” Hannah grimaced, “but I do like your idea. Give it a week, see how it goes.”
“Exactly!”
“Wow. That’s exactly what I’ll do. What a relief. Thanks,” Hannah smiled.
Should I tell her? Cassie wondered. I should tell her. It would be too weird if I just ran into her out there.
“Hannah, there’s something you need to know. I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t want you to feel weird talking to me, but the thing is, my horses are staying at Chad’s ranch. He drove my van up here and I’ve gotten to know him a little bit. I’m going over there for dinner tonight.”
“Seriously? Dinner, like, a romantic dinner?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Wow, this is news!”
“My horses will be there all week, so maybe I can find a way to come visit you in your cell,” Cassie laughed.
“That would be great. I would love that. What a small world it can be.”
“Yeah, weird how things happen. Anyway, I’d better start getting ready,” Cassie remarked.
“Do you know who he is?” Hannah asked. “I mean, really?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. He sells clothes, right? And he’s some kind of western trainer?”
“Oh, my gosh, Cassie. You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Do you have a laptop, or a tablet?”
“Yeah, I always have my laptop with me.”
“Google his name before you leave. I’m off to pack.”
“Okay, I will. Call me when you’re settled, and try not to worry. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
“I’ll try, but I may not be allowed to use the phone,” Hannah sighed. “The whole grounded thing might apply to cell phone use as well.”
“Ah, right.”
“Anyway, thanks, Cassie. You’re the best.”
They hugged goodbye, and as soon as she had closed the door behind Hannah, Cassie immediately opened her computer and entered Chad’s name in the search engine. She was not prepared for what she found.
Chad Douglas was a superstar, and had toured for years, drawing thousands of people to his western show. Clicking on one of the videos, she watched in amazement as he performed breathtaking stunts on his horses, and had Bailey performing all kinds of tricks.
Holy Crap. He’s unbelievable! No wonder he could make Shelby behave. Why haven’t I heard about this guy?
Scanning the many links, she saw one in particular that caught her attention.
Chad Douglas, #10 In Under 30…
Intrigued, she clicked the link, and was shocked to see the heading of the article.
THIRTY SELF-MADE MILLIONAIRES, UNDER THIRTY, IN THE USA
Scanning the list, she found Chad at number ten, and enthralled, forgetting the time, began to read.
Chad Douglas has taken the world of western riding by storm, not by sitting on bucking broncos or competing in rodeos, but by turning his talent for training horses into an exciting family show. Parlaying his skill into his own brand of menswear, the handsome young cowboy has made western clothing cool. Chad has his headquarters and training ranch in an idyllic setting, and welcomes all levels of riders. He is also known for his charitable works, performing at no cost to help raise money for worthy causes. Estimated net worth, $12.7 million.
She sat for a moment, digesting the information. Chad seemed so down to earth, almost humble, for such a successful guy, profoundly different from the arrogant, wealthy young men she met in her social circle.
Shaking herself, she hurried to get ready, showering quickly, but spending extra time deciding what to wear, and taking great care with her makeup. Finally satisfied, she rushed out of her room and down to her car, and as she pulled out of the hotel, she found herself thinking just what a unique man Chad Douglas was.
Pushing her foot on the accelerator, she zipped in and out of the slower vehicles, and turning down the back road that would take her to Chad’s ranch, she found it virtually empty with just a few cars traveling in the opposite direction. Delighted to have a clear path she increased her speed, and though she was watching the road, she was thinking about the extraordinary clips she just viewed of Chad’s show.
Should I tell him I know? I guess I should. He was so adamant about no lying, besides, it would be really neat if he showed me how he got his horses to do those amazing tricks.
The wail of a siren caught her attention, and glancing in her rear view mirror her heart sank.
Oh no, don’t tell me!
Glancing down at her speedometer she saw she’d been traveling a little over seventy miles-per-hour, and the speed limit on the back country road was fifty miles-per-hour; the flashing blue and red lights were meant for her!
Sighing, she pulled over and waited, then provided the officer with her license and other information.
“I’m really sorry, Officer,” she smiled, hoping to charm her way out of a ticket.
“Please remain in your vehicle,” he said sternly.
She watched him write out the ticket, and when he presented it to her for signature, she noticed it stated she had to appear in court in three weeks.
“But I won’t be here. I live six hours away,” she complained. “Can’t I just send in the fine?”
“Nope. I think the judge would like a word with you. We don’t take kindly to people racing on our roads around here.”
“Please? It’s a long way,” she pleaded.
“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” he asked, ignoring her plea.
“Just going to meet a friend for dinner,” she replied.
“You’d better slow down or you might not get there. This road is fifty miles-per-hour for a reason. There are some deceptive curves up ahead. How far are you going?”
“To Chad Douglas’s house,” she smiled, hoping the mention of Chad’s name might help her cause.
“Is that right? You tell him Warren Chapman says hello. You’re free to go, but please, Miss Davidson, slow down,” he finished, and handing her the ticket, strode back to his car.
Sighing deeply and cursing under her breath, she carefully pulled back on the road. The process had taken a while, and with the time she’d spent on the computer, then getting ready, and reluctantly driving the rest of the way at the speed limit, she arrived at Chad’s house much later than expected. When she pulled up to the door and stepped on to the porch, he was opening the door before she even had a chance to ring the bell.
“I was gettin’ worried,” he frowned. “I thought you were leavin’ a while ago.”
“I, uh, ran into a little problem,” she replied.
“What kind of problem?” he frowned, taking her coat.
Shit. He’s not going to like this.
“Um, I got a ticket,” she admitted.
“Really? For what?”
“I’d rather not say,” she replied quietly.
“Were you speeding?” he guessed.
“Kind of.”
“Come on in the livin’ room and sit down. Just how fast is kind of?”
“Uh, your friend, Warren Chapman, says hello,” she offered. “Hi Mickey,” she grinned, smiling down at his happy canine, hoping to change the subject.
“That’s not the answer to my question. How fast?”
“You are just the best dog,” she continued, bending down and rubbing his head.
“How fast?” Chad repeated. “And please don’t make me ask again,”
“He clocked me at 73,” she sighed, standing up.
“Damn girl. That’s crazy. Didn’t I tell you there are some bad turns on that road?”
“I didn’t realize I was going that fast,” she mumbled, walking into the living room and sitting down.
“If anything had happened…” he remarked, shaking his head and sitting next to her.
“But it didn’t, and I’m here now, and can you please stop scolding me?”
“You deserve more than th
at,” he said sternly. “I think we should get those swats out of the way right now, and I’m gonna add a couple for not listenin’ to me, yet again!” he exclaimed.
Shit!
“Pull down those jeans and bend over the back of that armchair,” he ordered, getting up and walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”
Dropping her jeans she bent over the chair as directed, and frowning, wondered again why on earth she was agreeing to such a thing, but before she could give her question much thought, he’d returned, wooden spoon in hand.
“The six you’ve got comin’, and two extra for your lead foot,” Chad announced.
Studying her full, round cheeks, he saw the telltale pink marks from the previous day.
“Still sore, huh?” he asked.
“A little bit, more so last night.”
He tapped the spoon below his previous target area, directly where the tops of her thighs met her bottom.
“You ready?”
“I guess,” she replied languidly.
“You’re not bein’ sassy are you?”
“No,” she replied hastily, wondering why she’d been doing exactly that. “Sorry. Yes, I’m ready.”
He swatted the spoon, landing it three times with strong whacks, silently counting to five between each, then moved it across to the opposite cheek and repeated the drill.
“Ooooh, Chad, that really hurts,” she moaned. “I mean really.”
“That’s the general idea,” he commented. “Now two more for speedin’, and I’m puttin’ you on notice right now, young lady, if you get another ticket while you’re here, it’ll be a lot more than a couple. You understand?”
“Yes, Chad,” she whimpered. “I understand.”
Placing the spoon against the marks from her previous spanking, he tapped, then spanked, delivering the smack with force. Cassie howled and wriggled, and Chad waited until she’d settled, then smacked her opposite cheek with the same gusto.
“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” she wailed.
“No cussin’ in this house,” he said firmly. “That’s another rule of mine,” and to underscore the edict, he dropped the spoon, and flew his hand across her bottom, slapping soundly.
“Sorry, I won’t swear again, I promise,” she cried.
“You can if you want, but I’ll just whip your butt for it. It doesn’t suit you, and I’m tired of hearin’ it,” he scolded, continuing to reign his hand on her scorched behind.
“Oooh, Chad,” she squealed. “Please, I won’t!”
Finally deciding she’d had enough, he stepped back to study his handiwork, and to his great delight he saw the evidence of her true nature; glistening drops of pussy dew were clearly visible, and his cock bobbed with joy.
CHAPTER TEN
After instructing Cassie to stay bent over the chair until he returned, suggesting she spend the time reflecting on why she’d been spanked, he moved to the kitchen to check on their dinner; fresh baked cornbread, his speciality, and a slow cooked stew filled with vegetables and beef. The pot had been simmering for some time, and the cornbread he popped in the oven. Though he returned to the living room in short order, he did not give Cassie permission to rise for a full ten minutes, spending the time admiring the view of her beautifully spanked bottom, as he leafed through that morning’s unread newspaper.
“You can stand up now,” Chad finally declared, smoothing his hand across her reddened behind.
Rising slowly, she turned to face him.
“Chad,” she murmured.
It came to him in a flash of sparkling eyes and a flushed face; she wanted him!
She wanted to feel his body’s weight, she wanted his devouring lips to consume her mouth and envelope her tits, and she wanted his powerful demanding cock to thrust inside her, and ride her into mind-numbing pleasure.
Lifting his arms he invited her in, her need sending life to the lonely member in his jeans. She fell against his chest, and closing his eyes he breathed in her warm scent, curling her hair through his fingers.
“Damn, girl, you do things to me,” he muttered, and gently tugging her head back, sent his lips to hers.
The wave of need swirled through her sex, to the point that she almost felt giddy, and without Chad’s strong hold supporting her, she was sure she would not have had the strength to stand. His kiss was surprisingly soft, engulfing her with a heat that burned down her spine and between her legs.
“Sassy Cassie,” he breathed, “I sure would like to spank you for pleasure one of these days. You think you can behave long enough for me to do that?”
“I’ll try,” she promised, “though I’m not sure what that means.”
“You’ll find out,” he said softly, pulling her head back and locking her eyes. “I promise you.”
I want you to make love to me, she silently begged. I want you to pick me up, carry me down that hallway and into your room. I want to feel your skin, I want to move my tongue over those powerful muscles, I want you to devour me.
He heard her unspoken plea for his ardent attention, and while his craving for her was just as fervent, it was too soon; Chad didn’t jump quickly, or easily.
“I think we could use a drink,” he breathed.
“Except I don’t think I can stand up,” she whispered. “I just found out what it means to be weak at the knees.”
“Then you’d better sit down, or is that a problem as well?”
“Yes, it is, thanks to you,” she sighed, leaning back against him.
“No, Sassy, that was all your doin’. You don’t follow the rules…”
“I know, and then I get spanked,” she finished.
“Well, listen to that, she’s learnin’,” he smiled, and lifting her off her feet, he carried her to the couch by the fireplace and laid her down.
“That was nice,” she smiled. “You can carry me any time. You make me feel like I weigh an ounce.”
“You do,” he chuckled. “What is it you want? Beer, wine?
“A cup of hot coffee with some whiskey in it, please?”
“Is that right, Madame?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Let me see if I can make that happen.”
“And a list of your rules, if one exists. It might help me stay out of trouble.”
“I do have one, it’s part of the employee contract, but speedin’ is breakin’ a rule too, you know that right?”
“Sure, but I have to pay a fine,” she argued, sitting up and wincing as she did so, “so why should you get to smack my ass as well?”
“Money’s nothin’ to you. You don’t even feel it. That sore butt you got, that you can feel.”
“This is true,” she sighed, and looking at him, felt a fresh rush of hot need.
Damn, you’re so handsome and so, I don’t even know the words…
Sighing, fighting the urge to follow him, she watched him turn and walk down the hallway, McTavish trotting along behind him, and when he returned a few minutes later, he had a piece of paper in his hand.
“I’ll go and fix you that Irish Coffee and you can take a gander at this,” he declared, handing it to her.
“Thanks. I will. I’ll read it slowly and make sure I remember every line,” she promised. “Hey Mickey, come on up and join me.”
The cattle dog cocked his head and looked at his master.
“Sure. You entertain the lady while I get our drinks,” Chad grinned, pointing his finger at the couch.
McTavish immediately jumped up next to Hannah and stared at her expectantly. She patted his head, then leaned back and studied the paper in her hand. In large black capitals it read: HORSE HAVEN RANCH RULES.
Intrigued, she began to read.
No smoking at any time, anywhere on the property.
Wearing gloves when working with horses, mandatory.
No Romantic relationships between team members.
All injuries, no matter how small, to be reported immediately.
Round Pen: Handler and horse only. All spectators
on viewing platform.
Drug Policy - Zero Tolerance. Immediate termination.
If you have an issue with another team member, report to Marty.
Leave your attitude at home; a happy handler means a happy horse.
The horse comes first. The horse comes first. The horse comes first.
If you make a mistake, no issue. Covering it up, BIG issue.
Lying not tolerated, and that includes the sin of omission.
Respect the other members of the team. None of us knows everything.
Shoot. I have to tell him I know Hannah. If he finds out…
“Any questions?” he asked, walking towards her with a steaming mug.
“It’s pretty clear,” she replied. “Wow, thank you,” she grinned, eyeing the whipped cream floating on the top of the hot coffee. “This looks great.”
“You’re welcome. So, now you have the rules, but there’s another rule that’s not on that list.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Heavy lifting. If I’ve hired a woman it means she can ride and rope and handle a horse as well as any man, but women aren’t built for luggin’ around bales of hay and 50 pound bags of feed. It leads to injury, and there are enough strong fellas around here to get those jobs done.”
“You know, Chad, that makes all the sense in the world. I really like that rule,” she smiled.
“Glad you do,” he smiled back.
“And I see a rule here I have to follow right away,” she remarked.
“You do? Which is that?”
“Hannah McCloud has been a friend of mine for a long time, and she told me all about Marty, and what she did, and she knows I know you and that I’m here tonight.”
“Good thing you told me,” he remarked. “You know she’s grounded, right?”
“Yes, she told me.”
“That means no phone calls, no visits without permission from Marty, no texts. You got it?” he asked firmly.
“What if she texts me? I can’t answer her back?”
“Nope, but that won’t happen, she won’t be texting you.”
She sipped her coffee, then shifted, cringing.
“My butt hurts,” she mumbled.
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