“Hungry?” he asked.
“No. But I could use something to drink.”
“Sure.”
The two walked arm in arm to the house as they watched Cissy speed off in her truck; she was headed toward town.
***
By the time Cissy pulled up to Garth’s bungalow on the outskirts of town she was so anxious that her stomach felt as if she’d just attended a chili cook-off. Had she stirred the pot enough, or too much? she wondered. This could get pretty dicey, given his mood, the day he might have had, and who knows—the stars and planets for that matter. She stared up—looked like a good night, but it was too cloudy to predict what the stars were doing. She hoped it would be a good night for a little spanking and a lot of rough sex!
Seeing the living room lights through the front window, she knew Garth was home; though rapping on his door failed to bring him out. She tried again, a little louder. And when he didn’t answer, she rapped hard, still getting more anxious with each knock.
“Maybe I’m not home,” she heard a familiar voice behind her and turned around startled to see her boyfriend standing there—no uniform, just blue jeans and a sleeveless white tee shirt, muscles bulging, arms gleaming in the light from the street lamp.
Oh, my, she thought to herself. Her heart was skipping beats, and her crotch became so wet she thought that juice would be trickling right down her thigh—if she’d worn a skirt, which she had not.
“I’m sorry. I just thought by your light.”
“I went into town for a few things,” he held up a small sack of groceries.
“Oh,” she said.
He was moving past her, not inviting her in. Was this a good sign or not?
“May I…?”
“Come in? Yes. But you can’t stay long, it’s almost eleven.”
“Jake won’t care if I’m with you.”
“But I will.”
Ooo, my, this was not going as she planned, so she changed gears fast sidling up to him with her crotch pressing into his pant leg. “Oh, hon, you’re mad. I’m sorry about tonight. I swear I forgot.” With her arms around his neck, she gave him a big smooch on his cheek.
“Really?”
“I swear.”
“You swear a lot, Cis, but I don’t always believe you.”
“Please, Garth,” she moved on him though he tried to pull away.
“I’m not buying it. Maybe you could spit out the truth for a change.”
“The truth? The truth is I’m terribly sorry. I went shopping with Midge and totally lost track of time, and our date.”
“Gee, that makes a guy feel good.”
“So, maybe you should just spank me? Would that make you feel better?” Her eyes lit up as though her idea seemed perfectly okay.
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
“Want? No, of course not. But if you’d feel better, then we could, you know, get down to other things.” She cocked her head, oiled her way along his arm, giving him a coquettishly pouty smile.
“We don’t have time for other things, Cissy,” he reminded her.
“No?”
“It’s almost eleven,” he said flatly.
She scowled. “You’re not serious about sending me home?”
He only smirked—one so deviously intended that she knew he was playing her as much as she’d been playing him.
“Yes. You’re going home. You’re going to sleep in your bed. And after work tomorrow I’m going to deal with what you put me through tonight. Now get going.” He turned her around and gave her a swat on the rear.
“That’s it? That’s all? You really mean that?”
“Every word. And you’d better skedaddle if you plan to get home before you have your cousin breathing down your neck.”
“Ooo, you,” she scrunched her face nastily.
“Watch your step, lady, you have no idea what I have planned for tomorrow.”
“And what would that be?”
“Oh, no, Cissy. You can think about it all night and wonder.”
Cissy would wonder, all night long, every minute she lay awake worrying over what this despicable man had in mind. If she didn’t half love him, and want hot sex so damned much, she would throw him off.
***
Amanda curled in around Jake’s sleeping form, reminded again how they could fit together seamlessly. As he lay on his back, she could cover his side with her body and snuggle in tightly, resting her head on his arm, kissing the skin on his chest. And when he lay on his side with his back to her, she would cuddle around his torso, pressing her groin into his ass and rubbing her warm pubis against those small, plump, muscled cheeks.
“Are you trying to arouse me, Amanda Plover?” he purred as he slowly awakened.
“And why not?”
“I have to pee, love, besides, I’m still exhausted.”
“Ah! But I’m so horny. I’ve been waiting for you to open your eyes.”
“And they’re still not open,” he informed her.
“But mine are.”
“So you make me suffer?”
“Is making love to me suffering?”
“Never.” He eased over so he could see her face. “How about making some coffee? Wake me up. Then we can fuck.”
“Okay!” She practically jumped from bed, and poking around the room, found one of Jake’s old tee shirts and tossed it over her head—came almost to her knees.
“Damn! You look sexy,” he said.
“Really? You keep being so sweet to me, I’m going to have to reconsider liking you.”
“How about letting me see your ass?”
“And why would you want that?”
“I love to look at it.”
She turned around and quickly raised, then lowered the hem of the tee shirt. “There.”
“No, Amanda, closer,” he motioned her forward.
“Oh, why?”
“I want to see if I left any marks.”
“You know you didn’t.”
“I might have, that wooden spoon has a pretty nasty bite.”
Not because he was demanding it, or because she thought she owed it to him, but because she found it very sexy, she padded to his side, and let him see her naked behind.
“Ah, yes. There’s a little rug-burn sort of look, right here,” he poked a finger at one cheek, “and here.” He poked some more.
“Ouch, that’s enough. So you left marks, you’d better watch out, because I won’t let you next time.”
“Oh, you think you have something to say about it?”
“I do.” She gave him a self-satisfied grin. “Now, I’m going downstairs.” She felt better than she had in weeks, maybe months, possibly the entire last year.
In the kitchen, she filled the coffeepot with water, the basket with a filter and coffee, and after setting the pot to brew, she wandered around waiting. Looking for something to eat in the pantry, she spotted two decent looking donuts in the cupboard, then grabbed two mugs and a tray to take up upstairs. She couldn’t remember being so domestic with a man so early in the morning. Usually they cooked her breakfast; though she didn’t imagine Jake ever would. Funny, her thighs were even tingling with sexual heat finding the little ritual amazingly sexy.
Still waiting for the coffee—his pot was damned slow—she ambled into the living room, toward the front of the house and the windows looking out on Grey Gulch. The view amazed her. The expanse of land was vast spreading out to a horizon miles in the distance—this was one of the reasons why she couldn’t leave the west for places east. That world had left her feeling tight and shrouded and here she could expand.
She stood for a while by Jake’s desk enjoying the view then finally glanced around, her eyes suddenly startled by the imprint on a business card lying by Jake’s phone—Burger & Stone, Ranch Brokers. Plucking the card from the desk, she inspected it wonderingly, then put it down. Burger & Stone, hummm. Wonder why? Probably nothing at all. Maybe just a solicitation. Used to get them all th
e time, brokers wanting to purchase land, speculators, developers, even other horse ranches looking for more animals. This probably had something to do with Grey Gulch not Birch Valley Stables. It was likely nothing at all so she let it drop.
Thinking the coffee must be done, Amanda moved on, carrying the breakfast tray to the second floor where Jake was waiting for her. The two dipped their donuts in coffee and then smooched until they were too hot not to screw. And once they’d exhausted themselves, Amanda was ready for her day.
“Duty calls,” she announced.
“Oh?”
“That little grey pony I’ve been working needs me.”
“That little scoundrel?”
“Yeah, I like him. Might keep him for myself.”
“And what would you do with Pepper?” (the stallion she’d trained while she was still in college.)
“Love him up, but he’s getting old.”
“That’s true, but I thought you were wedded to that old stud?”
“That’s me, wedded to old studs,” she laughed.
He snickered, too. “You think I’m old?”
“Older than me by nearly five years.”
“And a whole lot wiser.”
She gave him a playful punch in the stomach then scooted quickly away before he could grab her. She had the advantage of already being on her feet. And having a head start, she was in Jake’s shower before he could get to her. He did manage a few playful slaps to her posterior, but as she kept reminding him, she had a real pain in the butt for a boss and needed to get back to Birch Valley, even if it was Saturday.
How could she possibly be this happy? If it weren’t for a few nagging fears, there was little way she could improve on her life. And damn it, if she weren’t falling in love with Jake Colton!
Chapter Eight
A Switch In The Woods
It was nearly quitting time at the stables Monday afternoon; Cissy had just finished brushing down the horses Amanda had worked that afternoon. Her favorite, Hobble, a tawny beige filly seemed particularly fond of her. It warmed her heart the way the sassy girl snuggled in to her when Cissy came to groom her.
“You sweetheart,” she purred tenderly kissing the animal’s velvety forehead. “You’re so easy. Wish men were the same.” She was thinking of Garth. Hadn’t seen him all weekend, which was his way to make her suffer. She was supposed to see him Saturday, but he reneged, going fishing with his buddies while leaving her a cryptic message on her answering machine, “We’ll have to postpone your punishment. I’ll call soon.” What an ass! Albeit a cute ass, but still an ass with a damned fine butt. If she didn’t love him so much, she would find someone else, though she had a funny feeling that the next guy wouldn’t be any better. She sighed. “You know, I think I’m gonna have to stick to horses,” she said aloud to the sweet-faced Hobble. “Not so many complications.”
“So, I’m a complication?” Cissy heard the voice behind her and the shuffle of feet. She turned around.
“Yes,” she answered him directly.
After two days without him—nearly three now—he looked pretty hot and all she wanted to do was jump his bones, spanking or not. But seeing his grim expression, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Then again, if she were in luck, she’d get exactly what she asked for.
“Suppose you want to tell me the truth now?” Garth asked.
“Truth, what truth?”
“About Friday night.”
“I’ve told you the truth about Friday night.”
“And I don’t believe you.”
“Well, then, don’t,” she fumed, and she turned back around, pouting.
“Aren’t you off work now?”
“I suppose. I was just enjoying my babe here. She’s a lot more sweet-tempered than you.”
“If I have a temper at all, it’s because of you, Cissy Riverton.”
She didn’t reply, though she did feel Garth’s eyes boring holes in her back.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
Cissy refused. Continuing to brush the gentle filly, she went over and over the same places, until it was starting to look ridiculous. But she wouldn’t budge.
“Turn around,” his voice rose in volume.
Still, no response though the tension was mounting—especially seeing that Midge, Hank, Sam and Amanda had just entered the stable. The ante in this war of nerves was rising substantially.
“If I have to take your pants down right here, I will,” Garth said loud enough for all to hear, “though I imagine you’d like to do this somewhere more private.”
Cissy thought a moment, then snapped around, “No, please! Anywhere but here.” She observed the assembly of gawkers with a faint smile.
Garth grinned. “That’s better.”
Taking her hand, he led her from the stables, and they walked toward the woods some two hundred feet behind the buildings. The undergrowth got dense quickly, and though there was a clearly defined path, it hadn’t been walked in some time and needed to be pushed back. He struck a dogged pace as they disappeared into the woods.
“Ouch!” she grimaced as one branch caught her naked arm. “You’re walking too fast.” She stumbled along behind him, his hand still gripping hers tightly. “Where the hell are you taking me?”
He did little but grunt in answer to her question, and then suddenly, he pulled to a halt.
“Don’t move!” he ordered, letting go of her hand.
“Never,” she shook her head looking bewilderedly at him, and then followed his swift movements as he scouted the area for what he wanted. They were standing at the edge of a grove of white barked Birch trees. A gentle breeze disturbing the leaves as though they quaked, too, in anticipation of the scene about to unfold within their midst. Pulling out his pocketknife, Garth grabbed a slender branch and hacked away a four-foot length. Pulling it loose, he cleaned the shaft of a few twigs finally pleased to see the smooth switch appear.
On the inside, Cissy winced in fright. She couldn’t remember when she was last punished with such a thing. Once, Jake might have grabbed a stick from a hedgerow and attacked her behind, but he’d never been as deliberate as Garth was being now, and this was awesome. Seeing his hand glide over the thin blade of the birch, she shuddered so deeply she was afraid she’d wet her pants.
“You’re not really?” her breathless voice ventured the question.
He still wasn’t talking, not until he was ready, and then his order was to the point. “Pants down, over the stump.” He nodded toward the base of a recently felled tree, one broad and high enough to suit Garth’s needs, giving Cissy just enough room to balance on her tummy and provide her accuser the target he needed.
It had been some time since a whipping had made her cry: but this was taking on such shapes and attitudes, with a measure of frightening unpredictability, that she could feel her eyes burn hot with tears. As far as getting something erotic from this—that idea deserted her mind somewhere along the prickly forest path.
“I really have to?” she tried meekly.
“Yes, you do. Now, I don’t have all day.”
“What if I confessed something really important? Would that make any difference?”
He took notice, so it seemed by the changed expression on his face; but then his eyes narrowed as though he refused to be moved. “You can tell me later.”
Boy, he was intent on this. With no way out, Cissy bucked up her courage and bravely walked to the stump, unbuttoning her jeans as she went. She stalled as long as she could—like that might change things, when it never did. Oh, hell! her inner dialogue continued, “I’m going to despise every second of this.” Pushing her blue jeans over her hips and letting the denim bunch at her knees, she tried one more time, looking back with a despairing expression and whining her desperate plea, “It’s going to cut.”
“Might,” he agreed, but that fact didn’t seem to faze him. “Over the top, Cissy.”
Giving up, the quivering young woman dropped down on the scratc
hy surface of the stump. This one was so fresh she could still smell the fresh fragrance of sap and see the sawdust clinging to her knees. Resting her stomach on the edge, she reached forward for balance, and, as though Garth had previously arranged the scene, there was a small log for her to kneel on, making the pose unexpectedly comfortable given the awkward possibilities. She guessed he wanted her to take a lot, and that was not a good sign.
Standing behind her at a suitable distance, Garth eyed the redhead’s pretty, white bottom, finding a degree of compassion unexpectedly sweep through him. Perhaps it was just his lust that wanted him to end the silly ordeal. Those two globes certainly looked squeezable, if not kissable as well. He could surprise her with a hands-on spanking, one that would drive her crazy for sex, turn the lascivious brat into jelly as he would work her behind—slap it, kiss it, knead it until she was begging him to screw her. His cock responded to the fantasy so swiftly that he was about to throw the birch switch down, and then, suddenly, Cissy shocked him back into the real world.
“Aren’t you ever going to start!” her woeful cry made it sound as though she were dying.
He remembered Friday—the insult to his ego, her inconsiderate and deliberate thoughtlessness. No, he wasn’t going to change his mind; he didn’t like being made to look like a fool. Sex could wait, his cock would survive, and if he were lucky, the throbbing thing would have even more stimulation before he was finished.
With the broad swing of his arm and a snap of his wrist, he aimed the birch at the center of her pristine mounds and let it rip. Thwack!
“Yeeeeeawwwwww! Damn that hurts!” Cissy thought the sting would never die. It cut such a wide path of searing heat she was sure he’d broken skin with the first strike—but Garth thought differently.
“You’ll survive,” he warned, and he let the second cut slice the air in two and land with vigor at a spot just north of the first.
“Ah, nooooo!” she tried to be less vocal, but it was friggin’ impossible. Her body seemed to lunge with each slash, while every nerve ending in her brightened as though it had been set on fire. The next few came down in a steady rain. “Ouch! No! Please!” She jiggled and shook. Her bobbing ass was bucking so violently that Garth had a moving target to catch. He paused.
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