“Get your belly back down on the stump, or I’ll tie you!”
“I can’t take anymore,” she shouted.
“Oh, yes, you can. You’ll take twenty, that means twelve more to go.”
“Oh, nooo.” She sounded traumatized but Garth knew that was just the brat’s fondness for great drama.
“Your behind’s hardly marked,” he advised her.
“I bet your wrong,” she shot out. “I bet it’s cut to shreds.”
In the midst of that statement, another cut landed. Her cheeks were turning red, the thin lines turning into thicker stripes the more the switch hit home. Garth imagined that by the time he finished the whole of her bottom would be blooming like a rose with color. And that’s exactly what he aimed for. Giving her a rest after three fresh strikes, he started again and continued with his rounds of three until there were just two finishing cuts to apply. For these, he waited, giving himself and Cissy time to breathe a little easier.
“Are you done?” she asked through a sad sob.
“Two left,” he said.
“Couldn’t we just…”
“No, we couldn’t.” She’d risen slightly from her pose and looked back with an alarming degree of fear. This was good as far as Garth was concerned. She was too damned cocky. Getting taken down would do her a world of good. Her cousin’s advice came back to haunt him. This certainly wouldn’t be the last time he’d lay it on her so meanly, not if she gave him the kind of grief she had on Friday night. “Now get back down, or I’ll just start over.”
Cissy sighed again, so heavily it might have been humorous if Garth wasn’t convinced that half her protests were just put on. Seeing that she was back in place, the birch sizzled the last two times, rendering stunning cuts across the already welted skin. Then standing back, the satisfied man let the tension ease before he tossed his switch into the trees.
Cissy wouldn’t move until Garth said something. Besides, she needed some time to think this through. Her ass was going to smart for days—or so she believed. And yet, despite the painful ordeal, now that it was over, she felt a familiar fire of physical passion extended from her belly, through her hips and ass and down to her thighs, so there was no where that wasn’t sumptuously aroused. She wanted to churn against the miserable stump, but she was too pissed with Garth to let her feelings show. Then, of course, he had to ask the question, and her obstinate indifference to him passed. “How about your confession now?” he asked.
“Now?” she turned her head.
“Yes, now, and that’s an order.”
Ooo, he was doing it again, coming on so strong.
“Can I get up?” she asked.
“Nope, tell me now.”
“Oh, hell, Garth Branch,” she grumbled, “I stood you up deliberately. I wanted to make you mad so you’d spank me and you’d fuck me like a maniac—like you did the first time. I don’t like you making love all pretty and sweet, it’s boring. I like it rough and a little wild and…” her voice dwindled away as though she’d said too much.
Garth found himself almost chuckling after Cissy’s quick speech. He shook his head amazed. “You’re shittin’ me?”
“No, I’m not shittin’ you.”
“So, what you want me to do to you now is screw the living daylights out of you?”
“That would surely help.”
Ah, what a find he had in this one, Garth thought. “Is that so?” He found his dick engaged and throbbing almost meanly inside his pants.
Striding to her side, Garth knew what he would do. He plucked another branch from a tree, this one still bearing leaves; and seeing Cissy’s cute red ass quivering nervously for some attention, he lightly grazed it over her behind.
“Oh, you bastard, don’t tease me.”
“Isn’t this rough enough?” he purred at her.
Her bottom began to twist as much as it had under his cutting switch. “Oh, please, Garth.”
“Can’t stand a little gentleness?”
“I need it rough,” she whined.
“Do you really? You sure seem turned on now.”
“I am, I’m practically dying,” she pleaded in a voice so desperate that it was hard not to be moved. As the leaves tickled their way along her behind, Garth made his plans. He’d see just how long he could torture her—to the point he couldn’t stand it himself. If he were lucky, and she were as needy as she said she was, he’d take her just as she was now—and he’d have her ass.
Cissy’s Oos and Ahs continued until she was practically shrieking her body was so charged with lust. Garth could see her rubbing her pubic mound against the edge of the stump. He imagined her labia and the little bud between them getting a terrific massage, while his own arousal was peaking, too, getting to that point of no return. And with his cock so energized, he determined to move on.
Sinking to the ground behind his slut, Garth threw off the branch and attacked her ass just as she’d been wishing for. He thought she might cum on the spot just from the fondling. Squeezing the cheeks, welts and all, he listened to her squeals of pleasure, then began his journey into the interior, inspecting first the messy wetness of her feminine home as the molten channel spasmed on his fingers.
“Ah, I could cum!” she cried.
He backed off, “Oh, no you don’t.”
“Garth no!” this wail of woe was worse than any she’d offered all afternoon.
“Oh, you’ll get yours, but in the way I want you to,” he advised her. Going back to her pussy, he gathered the plentiful juice on his fingers and carried it upward to her anus.
“Ooo, my,” he heard her moan. A little more, and a little more, her tight bum hole was bathed with the silky liquid. “You gonna fuck me there,” she asked nervously.
“Sure am, brat.”
“I’ve never, Garth… “ She seemed a little tentative, though she was responding well to the probing fingers stretching the opening as he lubricated the clenched rosette.
“Easy as anything you’ve done and twice as good,” he told her, while his fingers dove a little deeper, pausing to add more lubrication, then going inside as far as they could go.
“Ah, oh, Garth, yes. Ooo, that hurts a little, but, oh yes…” He thought she was flying, he’d seen this just once before in a lover; it was a rare treat. Richer too for him. If she took his fingers, she’d take his cock as well.
Unzipping his fly, he pushed his pants to his hips and dislodged his spear. He’d learned some time ago that he had a good penis head for fucking ass. It could slip right in to a well-lubed bumhole, just as it would initiate Cissy’s now. Removing his fingers from the primed opening, he pressed the tip of his engorged member at the doorway and slowly thrust it beyond the barrier, feeling Cissy’s body welcome him with little resistance. Her cooing ahs of pleasure seemed to only deepen as his shaft moved along the channel until it was completely swallowed in her ass.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she cried in little panting breaths. Never had this happened before. All the sex before, and never this. He had her somewhere she’d never been—seeing things, feeling sensations, finding surrender more sweet than being a cocky bitch. As her boyfriend worked his member inside her ass, the fucking began in earnest and her body seemed to brighten, while her cunt and the little bud were massaged by the action against the edge of the stump. And then suddenly, there was an orgasm coming to her from out of nowhere, drawing on feelings she’d never experienced, turning what had been a pretty fine thing into something she would not forget. She wasn’t even sure when Garth spewed his wad, she was so lost in herself.
When Garth at last pulled out, Cissy felt as though something was missing.
For a time, her boyfriend sat back on the forest floor. “Ah, it would be great to be in bed now,” he voiced his thoughts.
Cissy couldn’t agree more. Once she pried herself from the scratchy surface, he could see by her placid expression how she felt.
“Was that rough enough for you?” he asked.
She panted
a few more times before she could say a word, and then it was just, “Oh, my.” Another deep sigh, and another whimpering, “Oh, my.”
“You want it rough, my darling, you have the right man.”
“I guess I do,” she managed to say; though she was still in awe and wouldn’t say much more for the rest of the night.
Chapter Nine
The Gathering Storms
Amanda came hurriedly in from the paddock, looking for Jake. “Is he here?” she asked, brushing by Hank.
“No, he took off for a meeting.”
“Meeting?”
“Yeah, I haven’t a clue.”
“Newspaper office?”
“I don’t think so. He had his briefcase with him, the one with ranch records.”
“Oh.”
“Problem, Amanda?”
She shook off the feeling. “No. I need to call Doc Davis.”
“About what?”
“I’m worried, that new stallion that came in, something doesn’t seem right.”
“How about if I have a look.”
“Yes, why don’t you? I’m just going to get the vet on the phone.” She moved into the office, while Hank retreated; and once he was gone, she began rapidly shuffling through Jake’s desk. She tried for his datebook, but couldn’t find it. Must have taken it with him. She searched through several drawers, only then noting a name, phone number and date on his desk pad. Burger & Stone. What was he doing? Her stomach began to grind maliciously with everything in her trembling.
“Couldn’t find the phone number?” heard Hank speak and jumped.
“No, I’ll try the rolodex again,” she thumbed through the cards, pretending that she was having trouble finding what she needed. “Did you look at the stallion?” she asked.
“Just a little. I wanted to check with you.”
“I’ll be right there,” she tried to push him off.
“I can wait,” he returned patiently.
How long had he been standing there? And was he suspicious? “Oh, here it is,” she looked up smiling as she snapped the card from the roller.
“Jake would prefer you copied the number,” he reminded her.
“Of course, I’ll put it back,” she brushed him off, grabbing the portable phone from the wall and strode through the door smiling on her way back to the paddock.
***
Hank had been troubled by Amanda’s obvious snooping. Seemed strange considering she had this hot and heavy romance going with the boss. It would be pretty shabby if she was just stringing him along to get info on the stables, as though there were some big scheme going on behind her back. Hell, this was just a little horse ranch, why did she have to get all in a snit over controlling the place? It was a good thing she wasn’t his girlfriend, then again, she certainly wasn’t his type.
Feeling a warm body snuggling in behind his ass, Hank’s thoughts instantly turned to other things, most notably, Midge’s sensuous body. Oh, did he have plans for her.
“And, hello, my sweet submissive,” he said turning around while capturing her in his arms.
“Hi!”
“You ready for tonight?” he asked.
“What’s tonight?”
“We have a date,” he reminded her.
“Of course, we have a date. Something special?” she wondered.
“Little business to attend to.”
“Business regarding what?” she asked warily.
“You think I don’t know, huh?”
Midge searched her mind for clues. There was only one possible thing he could punish her for, and he couldn’t know about that. “Know about what?” she asked innocently.
He shook his head, still looking amused, though there was a deadly sort of glimmer in his smoky eyes. “You’d better be on your submissive best behavior tonight, Midge McKenna. Be warned.” The tone of his voice clutched her in the crotch and her ass began to tingle as though he was about to spank her.
She had good reason to tremble, if knew about her evening with Cissy, but how could he? “Am I going to enjoy myself?” she asked.
“I couldn’t say.”
She was concerned about his evasive answer, seeing his dark expression deepen the more they gazed at each other. This mood was so like him, having her stomach once again tied in knots—excited, scared and wary.
It was hard to believe the distance they’d traveled in a few short weeks. How changed she felt by the way his hands had so adroitly manipulated her desires, as though he knew them better than she knew them. He’d tapped her core, and then seemed to drive down deeper, having the uncanny notion that there was a spring of needs far below. He skewed her mind, turning everything around. She and Cissy used to joke about taking charge of men; but now that seemed so far from her mind she couldn’t imagine anything but surrender. She had Cissy scowling at her, lecturing her about getting too serious about that submissive crap. “You don’t understand,” she’d told her, to which Cissy replied, “No, I don’t.” There were a half-dozen “Cissy events” she turned down in favor of taking the more responsible road, to which Cissy would sigh with exasperation and say, “You’re no fun anymore.” Maybe she just didn’t know what fun could be? Midge would sigh to herself. And yet, she let her best friend talk her into a girls' night out. Just to prove she wasn’t a stick-in-the-mud, she went.
How Hank found out, she had no clue
Getting dressed that evening, Midge took extra care to dress as Hank would like. There was a happy medium in his mind between appropriately sexy and over the line. Over the line had been a pair of short shorts that had become too tight… and a halter that almost showed her nipples if she moved the right way… and a short skirt, which barely covered her behind. She was spanked for that one, and sent to her room to change. She was learning, and probably feeling better about herself. Yes, he loved her looking hot, but not dressed in the same type of sleazy clothes that Cissy sometimes wore.
Midge had a feeling that whether he knew about her evening with Cissy or not, tonight would be another session with her ass—the kind of profoundly submissive ones that were as exciting as they were frightening and terribly lewd.
Thinking a skirt would be the appropriate choice, she pulled a blue one from her closet—he loved her in blue—and then a fancier style of tee shirt top that hugged her torso and buttoned down the front—buttons gave her some leeway in showing off her cleavage, which Hank definitely admired. The thought of him unbuttoning the little pearls made her quiver like Jell-O all the way to her damp pussy. And because he said they’d go dancing, she grabbed a pair of shoes with three-inch heels. Nothing showed her legs off better, and when she wore them, Hanks eyes always went there first.
Finished getting ready, Midge waited for Hank to arrive.
After dinner that evening, Hank and Midge danced until nearly eleven. Leaving the tavern, it was almost midnight when they arrived back at Birch Valley Stables. There was little light on this moonless night. For a time, the stars would fill the sky, but then clouds would swirl in around them and push the light away. In the yard, there was just the one light to cover the path between the stables and the house; and in the main stable, there were two dimly lit bulbs to navigate by.
Midge assumed that they would go to the small guesthouse some thirty feet from the stable on a rise above the paddock. Hank had been living there since he first started working at Birch Valley. By now in their relationship, Midge would have expected a night together in his bed, but all their intimate dates had ended at her house. Thinking that was where they were going tonight, she was surprised to find him leading her into the stables.
With the black night engulfing them, they moved into the dank interior of the quiet stable. Occasionally, a horse would snort or whinny, and perhaps there was a mouse scurrying along the floor, but Midge couldn’t be sure. Otherwise, the creaky old building was eerily quiet. Perhaps there was a storm brewing—the air almost smelled of moisture as though it might have rained somewhere in the distance. The ha
ir on the back of her neck seemed to stand on end with the energy about her so electrically charged.
“Wait here,” Hank told her, stopping at the tack room and leaving her to wait while he went inside. She heard him shuffling about, though she couldn’t see well enough to know what he was doing. When he returned, he held several things in his hand, but they were too hidden in shadows for her to make out what they were.
Pushing her forward, they came to a stall with nothing inside but two bales of straw and a bit more scattered across the floor.
“Stand still,” he said.
While she obeyed, Hank began to remove her clothes. First her tee shirt, and then the front clasped bra, her breasts spilling out with a voluptuous jiggle as they fell from the cups. Though he normally took time to admire them, they didn’t seem to cause one ripple of desire as his expression remained firm and unfeeling. Moving to her waist, he unbuttoned her skirt and pulled it away from her ankles as she stepped out of it. That left her in heels and a lacy, yellow pair of bikini panties pale enough to show the bush of trimmed black pubic hair tucked inside—and, if it weren’t so dark, a spot of wet sex juice right where her labia parted.
“Now give me your hands,” he said, as she trembled. She was beginning to sweat with anticipation.
“My hands?”
“Yes, your hands.”
Presenting them palms up, she looked into his face as he pulled her wrists together and bound them with a leather strap. Yes, he had to know. She was being punished. She could tell by the intensity with which he worked. This was far more than just another practice in submissiveness. She gulped noticeably, thinking of her night with Cissy, wondering why she let herself get hooked again.
“Feeling guilty?” Hank asked.
“A little.”
“You should.”
“I’m sorry.”
“As well you should be. You will not lie to me, Midge. Truth is the foundation of any relationship. I shouldn’t have to tell you that; you should know. If you haven’t already learned that fact, you will learn tonight.”
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 10