“You’ve been out-of-control, Ms. MeKenna. If you have any idea of romance with me, you’re recklessness will stop. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she cried.
“‘Yes, sir,’ will do when you’re being punished!” he snapped.
“Yes, sir,” she responded instantly.
“You’ll obey me, or there will be no relationship. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Her bottom was so scalded, Midge didn’t think she could take another strike, but Hank was not yet done. For a time, the hairbrush drifted downward, hitting the top of her thighs where that tender skin was even more sensitive to pain than the padded flesh of her ass.
“Oh, no, no, that hurts,” she screamed. “Please stop!” Two especially hard cracks thundered on each cheek—first the left then the right. “Yeeeeeouch!” They signaled the beginning of the end, but Hank was not quite finished. Not until he’d covered her bottom in quick a rash of hits. The force was eased and the sting less biting, though as with every other strike of wood, these only increased the awesome burn.
Once the spanking ended, it took some seconds for Midge to grasp that Hank was finished. Certain that another strike was about to hit, her cheeks remained clenched, fearful of another round of pain. But as the seconds ticked by, she realized he was done. Having laid the hairbrush on the table beside him, he now rested the palm of his hand on her molten behind. As the warmth spread, the pain declined; and a rapturous feeling of sexual arousal took its place. As he massaged the punished cheeks, her desire began to rise wildly. Soon, she was squirming fitfully on his lap, unsure exactly how she should respond—what he actually wanted from her. His hand drifted downward to her thighs—they, too, filled with sexual sensations. When he moved deeper into the cleft of her ass, she felt his fingers first toy with the juicy portal, and then dampened, slip higher finding her rear entrance.
“Oh, my no,” she purred in amazement. It was not a protest, but an acknowledgement that she’d never been played with there. And yet, her thighs opened without her realizing. As the stimulation increased, her physical response heightened. “Ah, yessssss,” she finally emitted a sigh of pleasure. Though, when Hank pressing two fingers, moved beyond the tight ring of her sphincter, she froze with her body tensing anxiously.
“Relax, Midge. Your body is mine. If I want you here I’ll take you here.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered softly as her inner muscles began to ease. He pressed his fingers more deeply with her bucking hips giving away the truth about her physical desire.
“I’ll take you any way I choose, is that understood?” He spoke tenderly, but with authority. This was not something on which he would bend.
“Yes, sir,” she repeated her response knowing that the answers to his questions and her reply to his play were crucial to her future with him. She would never have imagined herself becoming this yielding—even to Hank Devlin. Her fantasies were child-play compared with the reality of what he required. And yet, she was sure that she was passing his examination. Regardless of the depth to which he’d taken her, there was nothing that she wanted more than this surrender.
“I need a woman who submits, Midge.” As he spoke, his fingers drove as far as they could go into her ass. She squirmed, gasped a little anguished by the intrusion, but at each step she opened wider to receive him. When he withdrew, she nearly cried with grief. But this was only a momentary pause in his exploration. Before he continued, Hank rained a flurry of strikes on her ass to bring back the pain. Then, when he stopped the spanking, he began to play with her again, this time inserting three fingers into the entrance, slipping them easily beyond the primed door, and finally fucking them inside her ass. “You’ll need to be widened,” he said. This was not an order as much as an observation. And the statement was cause for both excitement and worry. Could it mean that these three probing fingers were nowhere near the size of the erection he’d use to fuck her ass?
“I want that,” Midge found herself saying. Never in a million years could she have imagined anything as rich and crude and remarkable as this. Should she feel degraded by this indecency, or wholly loved? Her mind could not begin to comprehend what was happened, but her heart knew. She swelled with satisfaction.
Withdrawing his fingers from her bottom for a second time, Hank pulled Midge to her feet as he rose himself; and leading her by the hand, they found her bed, falling on the patchwork comforter in a clash of heated sex. He was strong, and big, his full-grown erection widening the path of its journey into her wet vagina. Though she was not a virgin, she felt like one this night. As much as he required she submit her body for the probing fingers in her ass, he required the same relinquishing as they made love by more traditional methods. He required her open and relaxed, her body willing to take his firm, fondling palm. The squeezing … the pinches… and the ruggedness of his masterful moves generated such sensations that as her climax came, she shuddered in great waves and her pussy clenched tightly about his cock. At the finish, she lay under him exhausted as he spewed his rich cream inside her still spasming hole.
She’d lain so limply in his arms when they finished that for several minutes, maybe much longer, she lost consciousness. Perhaps she just slept.
“Let me see your ass,” Hank said.
Hearing his voice, and recognizing the no-nonsense quality of his request, she realized this was an order she needed to obey. She’d have to get used to that word—obey.
Pulling out of his arms, she crawled around on all fours until her ass was nearly in his Hank’s face. She wasn’t sure how much he could see in the darkened room. She was not aware of the moonlight coming through the window, bouncing off the surface of her cheeks and leaving them radiantly gleaming.
“Few marks, look a bit like rug burns.”
“And you like that?”
“I do. And I’ll bet you will as well.”
Satisfied with what he saw, he pulled her back into his arms where they lay together, naked and vulnerable to the night air and each other. For a time they drifted into sleep, and finally when the chill in the air started to chill their skin, they climbed inside the comforter and slept the remainder of the night.
Chapter Six
Simmering
Amanda Plover stood for some minutes outside the stable office before deciding if she would enter. Jake was there—exactly why she wanted to go inside. It had been over two weeks since her world had shattered; and during that time she’d hardly seen her new boss. She couldn’t bear to face him. Having declined the opportunity to continue keeping the stable’s books, she resigned herself to the position she loved best—training horses—and forgot about everything else.
Amanda considered the recent move by her partners as a hostile takeover. She would have simply walked away from the entire operation if it hadn’t been for several complicating conditions. The ranch house was, in fact, her family home, and it still belonged to her, along with the three small acres on which it sat. While the stables and nearly two hundred acres of property had become part of the business partnership, she could never forget the fact that it all belonged to her—no matter how she’d had to sell herself to keep it. Leaving simply wasn’t an option—not yet. She might have closed the house, or leased it to her partners; but where would she go then? Back to the city? That didn’t suit her. Of course, she could get a job elsewhere. But she didn’t want to. She belonged on this property.
If that were not enough to keep her at Birch Valley, there was also Jake. His presence in her life was like a wildcard in the hand she played. Dealt him, she wasn’t about to reject or throw him away—as much as she often desired to. The truth was pretty startling in this case. And the longer she went on without speaking to him in anything other than monosyllable replies, the more she ached to find out why he had so captured her with such an astounding certainty.
Her quandary might have been averted if he’d been the hands-off sort of manager that he initially described himself—leaving the
real work up to Hank Devlin. But no, he was at the stables at least three times a week, staying long hours, pouring over the books and checking every detail of the operation. He simply wouldn’t go away, no matter how much she wished he would. Eventually, she’d have to address her feelings or they’d eat her up inside.
Three times Amanda had been poised to initiate a real conversation, and three times she tried and failed. Today, however, she decided it was time to get the nasty business over with. As long as he didn’t gloat, she’d be fine.
She knocked—the sensation of that very strange. After all, this was her office. Still, the sign on the door said, Knock, and she’d managed to follow the rules so far, she couldn’t stop now.
“Come in.” His voice was crisp and clear.
“Hi!” She entered cautiously with a smile on her face.
“Amanda,” he hardly looked up, and that surprised her. Normally Jake was amiable to her in the extreme, as though he was trying hard to be kind. Examining his books, she noted the troubled look on his face.
“Something wrong?” she ventured.
He looked up then said, “No, not at all. May I help you with something?” He closed the ledger, putting his hands on top of it as though he didn’t want her to see what was inside. Though he looked pleasant enough, he still seemed a little edgy.
“Yes, I-uh, wanted to talk.”
“Oh?” Now he looked more interested.
This was more difficult than she thought. Perhaps she should wait until he was in a sunnier mood? But she was too anxious to take care of her nagging feelings.
“I want to bury the hatchet with you,” she finally blurted out the line she’d been repeating in her mind for several days.
He didn’t reply.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been such a bitch. And you were right about that. I just wish someone had pointed it out before things had to come to this.”
“No one wanted to go near you, Amanda,” Jake reminded her.
“Yes, I guess so. I suppose I dug my own grave.”
“Oh, we’ll climb out.” He attempted a smile though he was still so cool.
“Are you sure something isn’t the matter?” she tried again.
“No business is without its problems, and this one has more than its share.”
“I see. So, how about it—burying the hatchet?”
“It think that’s a good idea. And I appreciate the gesture. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. In fact, I half figured that you’d be splitting after we made the announcement. Of course, this was where you grew ….”
“Yes it was. But I have other reasons, too. I want to see the Birch Valley Stables succeed; and I know I can be part of that. Plus,” she paused, wondering if she’d have the guts to spit out the hardest part. She stopped, her mind suddenly having frozen.
“Plus what?”
“Oh, hell,” she thought silently. “I’ve stayed because of you.”
“Of me?” This did shock him.
“Yes, Jake Colton. Something about you has gotten under my skin. I know that sounds corny—and I don’t mean it romantically or anything, but I got the feeling that you really did care about the stables and even my success with it. Made me think that I might eventually regain some control—as though you aren’t opposed to that.”
“I’m not, Amanda, and I do care.” He warmed considerably as he spoke.
“Thanks. That really means something.”
He shrugged as if to say, it’s really nothing.
“Well, at least that’s off my chest. I’m on to other things, and I have you to thank for putting a smile on my face again.”
“I’m glad to see it,” he said, offering her his, this one far more genuine than his previous efforts.
Amanda left the office feeling reasonably okay. Though she was sure that something rather important was troubling Jake, and she wondered what that could be.
Despite her apparent success, the conversation with Jake left Amanda annoyed. The more she dwelled on the difficult exchange, the more it annoyed her, although she wasn’t certain exactly why. Had she expected more from him, a more gracious and conciliatory tone? Or was that about all she could expect from a boot-clad, stoic cowboy. Returning to her work that afternoon, Amanda found nothing but frustration brewing inside her tense bones. The more she dwelt on her dilemma, the more the past two weeks of suppressed feelings stewed inside her noxiously; until they were suddenly thundering through her like a herd of wild stallions. Without realizing how that happened, the bitchy Amanda of old returned as she barked orders to the stable boy, Sam, and then Cissy, and finally within earshot of Jake. When she heard him bark right back at her, she practically jumped out of her skin.
“Ms. Plover, get your ass over here!”
“What!” she turned around eyes flashing.
“Now!” His booming voice made the earth shake, and her as well.
But she hardly withered seeing his nasty look. Instead, she strode toward him, her chest puffed-up, her fists clenched ready for a battle. While she looked like a bull ready to charge, Jake squared off, standing feet apart, boots digging into the packed clay earth beneath him. Eye to eye, the two looked pretty remarkable, and neither Sam, nor Cissy was budging as they watched in wide-eyed curiosity while the next few minutes unraveled before their eyes.
“I don’t know what that little scene in the office was about,” Jake said, “but you have certainly done an about-face since. You want to tell me what’s eating you before you bite off everyone’s head?”
“No, I don’t,” she spat out with as much venom as she’d ever put behind a remark.
“Well, then we can just take this to the next logical step.”
“And what the hell would that be?” Her hands were on her hips, her pretty face grimacing so twistedly that she hardly looked pretty anymore.
“I told you what I’d do if you started to bitch at people again. You think I was kidding?”
“I’m sure you weren’t.”
“Then we’ll just take this inside.”
“Oh, no! If you’re going to whip me Jake Colton, you can do it right here.”
His eyebrows briefly raised in wonder, then narrowed again. “All right,” he said. “Right here.” He went for his belt, undoing the silver belt buckle at his waist. Once it was open, he withdrew the two-inch cowhide from his pant loops and doubled it in his clenched fist. “Take down your jeans and bend over,” he ordered.
Eyes still snapping, a defiant scowl on her face, Amanda obeyed, moving toward the hitching post in front of her just a few feet off. Undoing the buttons at her waist, she pushed her blue jeans over her hips. Doing likewise with her panties, she bared her behind, grabbed the post and bent over, giving Jake the target of her ass while snarling for him to get on with it.
By then, every employee at the stables was there to view the startling sight, drawn from their work by the sound of two angry voices and the prickly tension electrifying the air. Felt just like the stirring atmosphere just before a thunderstorm.
Watching in fascination they saw Amanda’s white ass drawn tight, and Jake Colton poised behind her with the doubled leather; and then the awesome sight of the stable’s queen bee getting her bottom whupped, and whupped hard. Jake put his muscled arm behind each strike, his determined expression revealing how pissed off he was. No one was sure why this battle was taking place, or even why it was allowed to play out before an attentive audience; but they were certainly treated to a sight they’d probably only see once.
The angry Amanda had only seconds to wait before the first strike of leather landed on her ass. She gritted her teeth and grasped the rail tightly, noting as she did how white her knuckles looked. There was not much else to see, except the dirt at her feet and the light cloud of dust raised as Jake shuffled behind her. She didn’t give a shit that anyone was looking. She wouldn’t be humiliated, she wouldn’t be humbled. She simply didn’t care!
The feel of the belt was like fire exhaled on h
er ass by a raging dragon. One smack after the next made her body jump, though she remained silent through each one. She’d never give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry—not ever again. As the repeated smacks hit her skin, the burn turned hot, her entire ass end feeling aflame. She dug in harder, clenched her rear cheeks tighter still, and her jaw began to feel like steel as she kept her anger pent inside.
The thwacking sound reverberated off the trees, and in her ears, forceful, repeated, and consistent. Jake’s pace didn’t change, not one fraction of a second, and soon, despite her determination, she couldn’t hold out much longer.
The practiced cowboy knew his business when it came to taming brats like this one. Come hell or high water, he’d keep up his steady gait until the sullen brat gave in. She thought she was tough, but he was tougher. He knew her problem, had even sensed it coming… for days her energy had been brewing despite her attempt to put a sunny face on her misery. Sure, he’d started this himself, demanding that she quit being a bitch. But he knew, that eventually she’d have to blow at least once to let off steam. Maybe then, Birch Valley Stables could finally breathe a little easier under its new chain of command.
Ah! What an ass she had! Bright red after just a few sharp smacks, each new strike of the belt only deepened the color. He’d love to fondle her striped behind—but not now. Not until this ordeal was settled.
Though Jake was steady and relentless with his delivery, the whupping did have a beginning and an end, a rise and fall, a cresting and ebbing, and finally a moment when Amanda’s defiance could no longer compete with the pain.
“Ah, gawd, nooooo!” her cry was quick and not repeated. She clenched again, even more firmly; and though she tried to hold on, Jake could tell that he’d finally gotten to the testy brat. The strikes that followed jumped off her skin and more cries quickly followed—becoming increasingly more plaintive. Soon satisfied that she’d been taught her lesson, Jake finally stopped.
While returning his belt to his waist, the appeased cowboy moved behind his brat, drawing so close to her that no one in the gathered crowd could hear what was being said. “It’s about time, Amanda. Now, perhaps, we can get on with things around here. I’ll see you back inside. Now.”
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 7