Daddy's Whip

by Loki Renard

  “Come on,” she said. “You can get rid of me right now. I know you want to.”

  “You don’t know what I want,” he said, rubbing his hands together in a gesture that made her seat tingle. “But let me tell you what I’d like right now. That’s for you to stop talking about leaving, and start learning. Mucking out is just one part of this job. It’s probably the worst, but there’s other things that make up for it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the horses.”

  Just as he said those words, she felt a puff of warm air against the back of her neck.

  She turned her head to find herself looking into the long face of a horse that must have ambled across the paddock to inspect her. It was gold- and white-coloured, marked sort of like a cow, and had a white stripe running down over its head. Surprisingly soft, but very strong lips took a nibble at her hair.

  “Hey!” She frowned. “What are you doing?”

  The horse made a sound like it was laughing at her and lifted its head up high, waving it back and forth.

  “That’s Trixie,” Sam said with a grin. “She’s young and pretty green still, but she’s a character.”

  “She’s a terrible hairdresser,” Marnie grumbled, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Am I going to have to ride this horse out of here, or are you going to take me back to the bus stop?”

  Sam’s face fell into a more serious demeanour again. “First things first, you are not to try to ride Trixie. She’s broken, but…”

  “She’s broken?” Marnie frowned. “That’s so sad. What happened?”

  “I mean,” Sam smiled and paused, as if he was trying not to bust out laughing as he walked over to her. “I mean she’s been trained to accept a bridle and a saddle and a rider, but she still acts out a lot because she’s only four years old. It’ll take her a few more years to settle down and be a safe ride for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me. You mean someone too dumb for anything better than shovelling shit. Let’s go already.”

  “Marnie,” he said, his use of her name making her quiver. “You’re not going anywhere. I need a hand, and you need a place to stay. We’re just going to have to make this work.”

  “Why can’t you find some other help? I’m pretty much the worst option you could get.”

  “Well, maybe,” he agreed gallingly. “But I’m not having you run off into the countryside.”

  “So I’m, what, a prisoner here? You’re going to stop me from leaving if I want to?” She lifted her chin in challenge, and found him meeting her rebellious gaze with a steady, stern look.

  “That’s right, little girl.”

  * * *

  The stunned look on her face told Sam she hadn’t been expecting that answer. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about it before he gave it. He meant it, though. She was spoiled, and she was a brat. She was going to take a lot of teaching to be useful. She was a problem—but she was his problem and he had no intention of letting her run out on him. Or, more precisely, running her off. Her inexperience wasn’t her fault, and he hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat.

  “You can’t keep me here,” she said, her outrage somewhat blunted as Trixie nuzzled her again, trying to take hold of the strap of her tank top. “Cut that out, horse!”

  “You have somewhere else to stay? You have money for accommodation lined up?”

  Her face told him that the answer to both questions was a resounding no.

  “You’re going to pay me?”

  “The law is pretty clear on having to pay workers,” he said, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “Even totally inexperienced ones.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen an employment contract.”

  “True. Aunty Magda probably didn’t want to welcome you with paperwork. I’ll get that sorted. You’ll start on $16.50 an hour and…”

  “Minimum wage,” she sneered.

  “You get room and board too, brat. It’s not a bad deal for an apprenticeship.”

  He watched as she thought about that. Trixie helped by nuzzling her ear.

  “Stop it, horsie!” She giggled, nudging Trixie’s head away again.

  She was more than cute when she smiled. She was utterly adorable. Her sparkling green eyes, which could hold such derision, lit up with real joy. Her blonde hair, which looked to have been carefully straightened, was starting to curl where Trixie had mouthed it, and the dust she hated was all over her shorts and her top. The length of bare leg between her shorts and the top of her riding boots was alluringly curvy. Sam felt a bolt of attraction as she wriggled next to the horse, who had taken a relentless interest in her.

  “I can’t wait to see the part where you outline your unorthodox disciplinary policies,” she grinned, half-turning to rub Trixie’s nose with her fingers.

  The position made that shorts-covered rear stick out, causing more than one part of him to twitch with interest. Don’t screw the crew, Sam, he reminded himself silently. Besides, she was almost ten years younger than him, and obviously emotionally unsteady from the quakes. He had to get his impulses under control and take care of her, both as a new employee and as a guest of the family.

  “Okay,” she said as Trixie continued to nuzzle her. “I guess I can stay. But I’m not shovelling…”

  “You’re going to learn to muck out, and clean tack, and saddle a horse. You’re going to learn to pick hooves and wash down and when you’ve learned all that, you’ll learn to ride.”

  “You’re going to teach me all that?”

  “Mhm.”

  “That’s a lot,” she said doubtfully.

  “You’re a smart girl, you’ll get the hang of it.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but as she softly petted Trixie’s nose, she seemed to come around.

  “One condition.”

  “What’s that?” He thoroughly expected her to say that he couldn’t spank her.

  “You can’t growl at me for not knowing things I have no way of knowing, or act like I’m some piece of shit because I didn’t come with a whole bag of horse costumes or whatever it is you people wear.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’ll take you down to Farmlands tomorrow and we’ll get you sorted.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Deal.”

  He extended his hand and she slipped her smaller one into his. He gave her a firm shake.

  “So you are my boss,” she said as their hands separated.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Haven’t really had a boss before,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve always been freelance. This is going to be so weird.”

  “In a lot of ways,” he agreed. “We start work at six.”

  “Six! I don’t get up before, like, ten. Nine at the earliest.”

  “I’ll get you up at half past five,” he said. “When we get busy, the horses need to be fed and ready, we have to make sure they’re still sound, have to make sure…”

  “I don’t get up that early though,” she said stubbornly, as if it was up for negotiation.

  “You will here.”

  “Uhm, I won’t though.”

  “Little girl, I will drag you out of bed, spank your ass, and send you down to breakfast every morning if I have to,” he threatened, the growl back in his voice.

  * * *

  Marnie scowled. Five-thirty? Seriously? That was still night-time! No way was she getting out of bed at that hour, it just wasn’t happening. But the way Sam was standing there staring at her, all stern and everything, she knew that she probably wouldn’t have too much choice. He’d already shown her how much stronger than her he was, so she knew he wouldn’t have any difficulty physically dragging her out of bed if he chose to.

  She pouted. “I suppose I can try. But I’ll be grumpy,” she warned. “Very grumpy. I don’t do mornings.”

  “I can fix grumpy.” Sam grinned.

  “And I’ll need coffee,” she said. “Lots of coffee.”

  “You can have all the coffee you want.
”

  “Mornings hate me,” she declared. “You’re going to regret this.”

  “Mmm, probably,” Sam agreed. “But we’ll just have to make the best of it, won’t we?”

  Trixie blew down the back of her neck, making her jump. She’d forgotten about the horse standing directly behind her. Turning, she stroked the velvety muzzle. Marnie had never been this close to a horse before, but with the fence between them, she felt safe enough. What was it Sam had said she’d be doing? Putting on saddles and something to do with hooves? That sounded a bit scarier. She sure wished she’d been listening when her aunt had told her about this job.

  “So how many horses are on this place anyway?” she asked, stepping back from Trixie. “And where is that river you showed me out the window? Are there any fish in it?”

  Sam grinned. He was so handsome when he did that; the way his eyes lit up made her wish she actually fit in at a place like this and that he could see her as more than a burden.

  “There’s trout in the river,” he told her. “And we have a couple of dozen horses, not all of them are in work. How many we have here at the barn depends on how busy we are.”

  Marnie gulped. She was going to have to learn the names of two dozen horses? Sam must have noticed the dumbfounded expression on her face because he chuckled, and his eyes crinkled up at the corners as his rumbly laughter washed over her, making her insides turn to molten lava. Damn the man for having such an effect on her!

  “Come on, little girl, let’s go see the river. You been on a farm bike before?” He held a hand out to her in invitation but she ignored it.

  There were those words again. Her tummy clenched.

  “Why do you keep calling me that?” she demanded. “I’m not a child.”

  “No,” he agreed, “you’re not. But still, it fits.” He stretched his hand out further toward her and wrapped her fingers in his, tugging gently. “I want to show you the rest of the herd, and the waterfall.”

  Sparks shot through her palm as their hands connected and her whole body prickled with a kind of energy that she couldn’t describe. Was Sam feeling it too?

  With her fingers locked in his, Marnie had no choice but to follow along behind Sam. She had to scurry to keep up with his long strides and the borrowed boots, which were ever so slightly too small, rubbed against her heel with every step she took.

  Sam led her around the other side of the barn to where a mud-encrusted two-wheeler motorbike was leaning against the wall. Like the ute he had picked her up in, it looked like it had seen better days.

  “Come on, we’ll take the bike.”

  Marnie froze. “You expect me to ride on that thing?”

  Sam looked at her. “Sure! Why not?”

  “It’s filthy, for one thing.” Marnie screwed up her nose. “What is even on it? It stinks!”

  Shaking his head, Sam sighed. For someone who insisted he would teach her everything she would need to know to work here, he sure didn’t have a lot of patience.

  “It’s a farm bike,” Sam explained, speaking slowly, like he thought she was a bit daft. “Of course it’s going to be dirty. But it’s perfectly safe. And it beats walking. Come on!”

  Marnie crossed her arms across her chest. “Nuh-uh. Can’t make me.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sam growled, clenching his fists tightly by his sides. Somehow, his stern features looked even more handsome when his face was creased up into a frown.

  “Aunty Magda doesn’t like swearing,” Marnie pointed out. “Isn’t that what you said? If I’m not allowed to use naughty words, neither are you.” She stabbed her finger in his general direction triumphantly, but her smile faded when Sam exhaled loudly and flexed his hands menacingly.

  “If you don’t want your ass smacked again, I suggest you be quiet and do as you’re told,” he snarled.

  Pulling the bike upright and kicking the stand back up, Sam wheeled the bike around in a circle so it was facing the right way, then he threw his leg over the seat, balancing the machine between his dusty thighs. Marnie felt her face flush at the memory of lying across those very thighs not so long ago.

  He held his hand out to her. “Get on,” he ordered.

  “Shouldn’t we have helmets or something?”

  Kicking the stand back down with his boot, Sam sighed. Then he gently leaned the bike over until the stand took its weight, then dismounted. “Yes, you’re right, we probably should.” He indicated back the way they’d just come. “Back into the barn.”

  Dragging her feet, Marnie followed Sam back into the barn. The smell of horses wasn’t so overpowering this time, and her nose didn’t wrinkle up in distaste of its own accord like it had the first time she’d entered the building. He turned left into a small room and turned on a light; as her eyes adjusted to the brightness after the dimness of the barn, Sam’s bulk made him look like a giant.

  She looked around. It was crammed full of horse paraphernalia—saddles, halter, bridles, reins, stirrups, and other things she didn’t recognize. She had no idea what most of the stuff was for. Curious, she turned in a circle, staring at all the equipment. So many saddles! And she would have to clean them. Isn’t that what he’d said?

  “Lots of things in here for keeping disobedient little girls in line.” There was a distinctly amused note in Sam’s voice, and she quivered, her curious gaze finding a row of stirrup leathers hanging on a hook.

  Keep her in line? Surely he didn’t mean…

  Pushed back against the wall, almost touching her boot, a selection of riding crops sat in a tall plastic bin. Her buttocks clenched involuntarily as Sam pulled one out and waved it at her before tapping it against his palm. She felt her eyes widen. Surely not… No way was he smacking her with a riding crop! She backed up a step, getting ready to run. This was too much.

  Obviously sensing her trepidation, Sam reached past her and returned the riding crop to the bin. “Don’t worry, little girl.” His deep voice washed over her, soothing her. “As long as you do as you’re told, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Her heart pounded so loudly she was surprised Sam couldn’t hear it. Emotions she didn’t recognize had raced through her when he’d waved the crop at her like that, and now that he’d put it back where it belonged, she felt oddly disappointed. What would it feel like to have the crop biting into the tender flesh on her ass? Would it be exquisite, as his palm had been? Would the dampness return to her pussy, bringing her to a state of perfect, embarrassing arousal as the first spanking had done?

  She could vaguely hear him talking in the background, but she was too busy thinking about the riding crop, and wondering how on earth she was going to get her head around all this stuff, to listen to him.

  Crack! A sound like a gunshot exploded right beside her and she jumped, startled. She spun around, her hand on her chest in fright, her heart pounding even more.

  Sam grinned, then reeled in his stock whip. “I thought that might get your attention,” he chuckled. “You weren’t listening to one word that I said, were you?”

  The blank look she gave him clearly told him all he needed to know. Raising his arm, he cracked the whip again, whipping up the dirt in front of her feet, just about scaring the living daylights out of her. She put her hands up to her mouth to try to stifle her scream, and squeaked pathetically. She felt the colour drain from her face.

  “What the actual fuck?” It came out as barely more than a whisper, but Sam heard. His face darkened as he raised one eyebrow.

  “You might want to pay more attention, little girl,” he growled, winding up his whip again. “Unless you want to find this whip cracking across your ass instead of next to it.”

  She squirmed under his penetrating stare. He had a way of making her feel so small, so naughty, with just a look and a stern word.

  “As I was saying, when you weren’t listening, helmets are compulsory here, for all riders. So you may as well find one that you like, and keep it; you’re going to need it, eventua
lly.” He pointed the handle of his whip at the shelf in front of them. “Helmet. Find one that fits. Small on the left, bigger on the right.”

  “Do I get one of those too?” She asked the question as she pulled out various helmets. Most of them were black, but there were a couple of coloured ones too. There was a pink one, toward the smaller side, but not all the way down at the end. She pulled it on and put it on her head. It fit perfectly.

  “A whip?” He grinned as he stepped forward and helped her adjust the buckle under the chin. “Oh, you’ll get that alright.”

  It was obvious from his tone that he wasn’t intending on giving her one of her own, rather he was talking about using it on her, teasing her with more bold innuendo.

  “Mhm. Cute,” he nodded, palming the helmet and rocking it back and forth, then side to side. “Very good. Suits you, little girl.”

  “How would you like it if I called you a little boy?” She frowned under the thick brim of the helmet.

  “You can try,” he smirked. “See what that gets you.”

  He was still holding that whip in his hand, coiled like a snake and probably just as dangerous. She thought about forming the words. She thought real hard, but they didn’t come. There was nothing little about him, that was the thing. He was very… Big. In every way.

  * * *

  Did she have any idea how bloody adorable she looked, standing there pouting with her pink helmet, wrestling with herself to try to taunt him? God. Sam’s heart swelled just looking at her. As much as she made him want to whip her ass every other minute, she also made him want to wrap her up and cuddle her and look after her. She needed looking after. She needed rules and discipline. She needed him to strip her and fuck her senseless…

  Sam brought himself to reality with a start. Now he was standing there zoning out. Whatever she had was catching.

  “Right,” he said. “Good. Helmet. We can get going.”