Not only did Garth’s swiftness stun her, the amazing force behind his command took her off guard. In just seconds he had her jeans unbuttoned, the zipper down, the denim at her ankles, and her upended over his lap. Keeping up the same ruthless pace, Garth fingered the edge of her pink bikini panties—for just a second pausing to acknowledge the lovely look of her bottom encased in the thin material. But, with his conviction propelling him forward, he had the slip of nylon peeled away from her skin left to dangle at her knees. Then striking with stunning speed, he quickly warmed her bottom with the palm of his hand.
At first, the smacks hardly seemed like much at all. Certainly, they were nothing like the strike of Jake’s paddle, belt or strap. But, Garth, being the straightforward no nonsense kind of guy that he was, soon moved right past the those warming strikes raising a decent sting on Cissy’s ass.
She struggled, because she always struggled with a spanking, but this was so much different than those she took from Jake. Sure it was getting harsh, and the sting was starting to really smart; but there was an erotic sensuousness about the way Garth’s left hand was pressed against her back, and the feel of his sturdy thighs beneath her crotch, and what she believed to be his own arousal becoming evident. As the punishment continued, it became difficult to know whether she should protest or groan with pleasure. As it turned out, she was soon voicing a most remarkable reply, her body churning sensuously as she did, “Ah, no, Garth, please, ooo, no pleeeese, ah, yes,” she moaned in her rapturous response.
Damn! Her poor ass stung, but she could hardly deny the erotic quality of her distress.
From Garth’s point of view, he couldn’t have been happier. He knew he was a pushover with women—loved them too much, and he truly loved this one. He’d wanted to take Cissy Riverton over his lap every time the two went on a date. She was a brat’s brat—real pain in the neck—always doing something to rile him—in her own charming way. In several months of dating, Jake Colton must have told him a dozen times, if he told him once, that his cousin needed to be spanked. He’d brushed off that advice as often as Jake gave it—but seeing Cissy’s response, and understanding his own, it looked as though her cousin was right on the money when it came to handling Cissy.
The more Garth smacked her plump behind, the more subdued she got. And as he watched her sweet white behind turn a most delightful shade of pink, he sensed that the sassy tart was becoming aroused. Her complaints were downright rapturous, and his own body replied with his erection advancing rapidly inside his pants.
Two competing desires played inside him: the one to continue this forever; and the one to stop right now and make love. Screaming for supremacy, each seemed fueled by an inner need. He was well aware of his desire to make love to Cissy, but this new and unexpected desire to punish her had him fascinated. It’s what kept the furious spanking alive, even as his sexual desire increased and his hand grew hot with a stinging sensation that must rival the one on Cissy’s bottom. Seeing his girlfriend squirm, her poor body writhe and twist, his desire to continue increased. He adored the look of her behind—all splotched with red, as well as the intense satisfaction he was gaining from punishing her.
Garth might have continued forever, with his exhilaration spurring him on; but after some ten minutes of the nonstop onslaught, his palm was finally burning so hotly that he couldn’t go another strike. Abruptly stopping, he laid his hand on Cissy’s ass, enjoying the feel of her beet red skin, and began massaging the smarting cheeks.
By then, his fair-mindedness ceased. Whatever had kept Garth Branch a gentleman was suddenly disconnected. Driven by his desires, he dove into that sweet bottom, squeezing the cheeks until she groaned as madly as she had been when he was spanking her. And moving on with his lust in charge, he ran his hands along the skin of her thighs, and then moving between them, he fingered the sopping warmth of her wet home.
“Oh, my yes, Garth!” was all the encouragement he needed from Cissy. She proved as ravenous for sex as he was. Within minutes they’d dropped to the grassy earth grappling with each other, hands flying fast and mouths moving on each other, each zealously seeking more. She had his pants down. He had her jeans stripped away. She pulled his shirt aside. And he burrowed toward her breasts with his hands and mouth. Ah! This was heaven—what they’d been driving toward for weeks and finally found a way to realize.
For the first time since this horrible day began, Cissy let go. All her nasty rudeness seemed to melt away in Garth’s arms. What muscles! Strong, resilient made-of-steel muscles—and the hardest one between his thighs. By the time she reached his prick, the stalk was fully engorged and ready to enter her snatch. Laying back against the grass, she opened her thighs wide and let him drive right in.
“Oooo, yessssssssss,” her subtle hiss was music to a man who too often held back waiting for a woman to lead.
It was a fast fucking—the kind that makes you weak. Climaxing in minutes, the two were soon exhausted, panting, trying to recover.
Garth was certain now, that despite what Cissy might say about herself, she wanted to be dominated. She wanted to be taken, made to mind, and even punished. About this, her cousin was very right. What perhaps Jake didn’t know, or certainly wouldn’t recognize, was that she wanted to be loved as well. And that was something Garth was prepared to do.
The pair remained locked inside each other’s arms for nearly a half-hour after they both came in crashing orgasms. They didn’t speak—not a single word was spoken. But as the rays from the dying sun surrounded them in a cloud of color, they communicated everything that was necessary to say. Sometimes words weren’t important. The sky darkened from peach to rose, to a deeper shade of purple, then to grey.
“Think you learned a lesson tonight?” Garth asked. The question was a pointed one, and he wanted an answer.
“Humm, I suppose,” she purred dreamily. She didn’t want to think about lessons, or punishment, or anything but the lovely sensation of being loved.
“Cissy?” he wanted more.
She pulled up, staring down at him. “It’s just that…”
He patted her nose with a finger. “If you learned anything tonight, it’s not to push me. I’m finished being patient with you. You’re going to mind your manners with me, or this is exactly what you can expect.” He stared around him with a smile on his face. “Next time I’ll pluck some birch branches from these woods and really give you a licking.”
Cissy’s eyes went wide in wonder—for just a second, then she smiled sweetly. “Oh, Garth. We don’t have to talk about it now.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” Garth disagreed. He sat up, staring into her shadowy face, making sure that she understood what he said. “Whether you like it or not, your cousin knows you pretty well. You’re going to behave, and I’m going to make sure you do. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” she tried to smile.
“No more whining, no more getting steamed with me over something that’s not my fault. No more little brat behavior. Clear?”
She snickered playfully. “Okay. I’ll try.”
That was enough for him. At least for one night—although he had the feeling that it might be some considerable time before Cissy got his message. If it took him being a little less gentle and a little firmer with her, that’s exactly what it would be. If this evening taught him anything, it was that.
Chapter Four
Tempting Teases
Midge sat in the diner across from the handsome Hank Devlin amazed by the unruly lock of hair, which would fall in his face as though he combed it that way. She couldn’t believe her luck to be dating this charming brute.
She’d fixed herself especially pretty for their date—a little more blush, a little more lipstick than she usually wore, and there was definitely a twinkle in her perky brown eyes. Though she was clearly nervous around Hank—especially after the spanking—he put her at ease with his easygoing style. A beer or two helped. In fact, Midge could become quite a chatterbox with a little liquo
r in her system.
For nearly an hour while they ate their burgers, the conversation ambled along, picking up where it had left off from their early morning conversations. Midge could tell that there was something new happening between them and her curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied unless she asked the question that had been burning in her mind since the incident in the stables, “You’d really use your leather belt on a woman’s behind if they pissed you off?” She blurted the question as though she were asking the time of day.
“Yes, I would. And I’d use a paddle, or a hairbrush, or a cane—even a good switch.”
Her body reacted with a gentle shimmy that jiggled her breasts in such a lovely way that Hank couldn’t help but notice. After seeing her in nothing but plain tee shirts, Midge looked pretty tempting in her low cut blouse with her cleavage rising toward the top.
“Sounds as though you have a lot of experience?” she asked.
“Some.”
“And where does a young guy like you get experience punishing women?” she wondered. Strange—that all this was spilling out. The questions just kept appearing in her head, and the stern-looking cowboy across from her kept answering them as though they could go on all day.
“Some of it comes naturally. I was aware—though I never saw anything—that my father sometimes disciplined my mother. Nothing was ever said, of course, but I walked out to the shed at the back of our property one evening and heard quite a ruckus going on… a little war of words to start, and then the sound of a strap. Scared me to death.”
“How old were you?”
“About fourteen. Old enough to put a lot of hints together into the true picture of my parents’ relationship.”
“And that was?”
“She was clearly submissive and he ruled the show. He laid down the law; she obeyed. It was as simple as that.”
Midge’s mind was going a mile a minute, though she had no idea what to say.
“It might seem like an antiquated sort of relationship for 70’s and 80’s when I grew up, but on the other hand, I’ve never seen two people who were happier than my parents. They were in love; and however they managed to create their odd arrangement—the punishment included—it worked. It still does.”
“You think he punished her all the time?”
“Probably not too often—she’s a very compliant woman. I only know of that one time for certain, but there were a few unexplained occasions that make more sense now.”
“Like what?”
“Humm,” he thought a moment. “A few tears… a few times my father whispered in her ear… sometimes it was just the look on both their faces. They had an understanding.”
“And that’s the kind of relationship you want?” Midge asked. Her whole body trembled now, just as she had in the stable—so much, she knew Hank noticed.
“If I can have it, yes,” he replied. “It may not suit every man’s disposition, but it does mine.”
“I guess you’ve tried it then?”
He nodded.
Oh! If she could only peer into his brain and pluck out scenes from his past—his girlfriends, the arguments, the spankings, the discipline. She wanted to know everything, like what they fought about, why he used a paddle, and what it looked like to be caned—would it leave welts? Was it true you couldn’t sit down for a week? She could extrapolate from the brief session at the stables, but that was just her imagination and it wasn’t enough. Who were these women? What did they look like? How did he dominate them? More to the point, how would he dominate her? What words would he use? What would it feel like to have him truly angry with her? And most of all, how would it feel to have her ass naked, poised to be punished, Hank’s arm swinging a belt or paddle to hit dead-center on her ass cheeks?
Suddenly, there were two plates of strawberry shortcake in front of them and the conversation died. It was just as well, Midge wasn’t sure she could take more input—her body was confusingly on fire and her head starting to pound. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, and she made a desperate attempt to flush her brain of the pictures that were coming to life inside it.
Their evening continued, but not the conversation about the spanking and dominating women. Midge purposely kept it to safer subjects.
After the diner, they walked through town. There wasn’t much to do in White Birch on any evening; but this being a warm summer; it felt comfortable being outside. Though she still was nervous, wondering what she would do if he asked her out again, she could breathe a little easier without four walls trying close in on her.
Midge had only to wait until Hank walked her to her door at ten to find the answer. “How about Saturday night?” he asked.
“Sure,” she didn’t even hesitate.
He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, his hand grazing hers affectionately, and she thought her whole body might fire orgasmically. Hurriedly inserting her key in the lock, she opened the door, aware that Hank was still staring at her. Turning around, she waved at him, flashed him a sexy grin, and then closed him out.
Oh, my! She heaved a great big sigh and leaned against the door trying to let herself calm. “What am I doing?” she whispered aloud to no one but herself.
***
Friday morning, eight o’clock, the town hall was bustling with activity. Usually there was nothing going on; but today the investors and partners in Birch Valley Stables were meeting for a serious discussion. Jake, Tommy Halvorson, Jed Stallings and Clinton Dawson. Amanda Plover was expected at eight-thirty. Business should be over by nine, the four back to work before nine-thirty. Fact was, their conference took just five minutes, and for the rest of the time until Amanda showed, the four men jawed about the pennant race and the upcoming pro football season. When the lovely Ms. Plover walked in the door at eight o’clock sharp, they all stood up to graciously shake her hand. After all, they were perfect gentlemen—in an Old West sort of cowboy way.
“Amanda, have a seat,” Jed motioned the young woman to a chair at the head of the table, while the four returned to their seats on either side. They’d expected her normal attire, blue jeans and tee shirt, but the lovely blonde graced them with her presence, wearing a short white skirt and a snug pink, silk tee shirt that hugged her breasts like skin. Her face was blushed with a trace of make-up, her lips with pink, and her blonde hair, normally tied back into her saucy ponytail, had been brushed out so it fell to her shoulders in satiny waves.
Only Jake Colton would wonder if there was some manipulative purpose behind her sexy attire. His fellow investors—all good friends—were a good deal older than either Amanda or himself, and found her presence so stunning and appreciated that it was difficult to take their eyes from her.
“Gentleman, nice to see you,” she addressed them pleasantly. She carried a business portfolio in her arms from which she immediately withdrew five report folders. Handing one to each man, and keeping the last for herself, she sat down and smiled confidently. “I think these are the figures you’ve been wanting to see.”
Jake quickly perused the document, then closed the cover, adjusted himself in his seat, and went straight to the point. The others were still eyeing the lovely Amanda.
“This is all well and good, Amanda,” Jake observed, “but it’s speculative.”
“Yes, and based on what I think is a very conservative forecast of the stable’s potential,” she added.
Jake chuckled under his breath, “I commend you for your optimism. It’s our hope that the stables perform as well as you predict. But…”
“I can’t see this going any other way, gentlemen,” Amanda interjected with a well-practiced firmness in her voice. Though they retained their gentle feminine quality, her blue eyes were full of fire.
She’s holding back, Jake thought to himself. And nervous as hell.
“The changes I’ve made over the last two months are already showing…” she rattled on while, Jed Stallings, the oldest of the quartet, sat back looking almost bored with the meeting. He drumm
ed the table with his fingers and finally hearing enough turned in his seat…
“The fact is, Ms. Plover, you’ve mismanaged the stables assets,” he said in a matter-of-fact monotone that hit the air space between with a deflating thud. “You’ve had a tough time paying the note, and there are a bunch of old plugs in your stable.”
“Wait a minute. You haven’t bothered to look at this at all.” She tried maintaining a professional attitude, but she was quickly losing her composure.
“Amanda, we’ve decided to relieve you of your duties as stable manager,” Jake went on. “I’m talking to Hank Devlin about that job. We need to get this business making money.”
“You can’t do that! It is my stables.”
Ignoring her, Jake continued, “I’m going to oversee Hank as general manager. If you’d like, you can continue as a trainer and certainly do the accounting. But…”
“But you’re taking over all the business decisions,” she stated the obvious.
“And the buying and selling. This is business—not personal.”
Her face was flushed and her eyes almost in tears—though she was too proud to let even one drop rain down her cheek.
“And I suppose I have no vote?”
“We constitute a majority,” Jake reminded her.
“And your decision was unanimous?” She looked from one poker face to the next.
“Yes, it was,” he said, while the others confirmed the fact with the expressions on their faces.
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 4