Her mind was dazed. How did he know about her lie? Though she couldn’t get the worry from her brain, she was too chicken ask.
Making certain that her bonds were secure, Hank turned her around and pushed her toward the back stable wall—an awkward move on the uneven floor in three-inch heels. But Hank didn’t care. Having Midge where he wanted her, he raised her bound wrists to a bolt conveniently fixed just below the window, and slipping a loop of leather over the end, Hank had her hands appropriately out of the way.
Midge gazed back at him, eyes swimming with tears, several trickling down her cheeks. If only he could see her face, maybe he would be moved, though she had the feeling there was nothing that would sway him when he was in the middle of a punishment.
“I’m sorry, I really am, Hank. I know I shouldn’t have lied to you about my night with Cissy, but I didn’t think you’d let me go to the speedway.”
For a split-second, the confession seemed to startle him, but he recovered easily. “You’re right about that,” he agreed.
“It was totally safe, I swear,” her voice was strained and pleading, but it wasn’t doing her any good. To a man with Hank’s old-fashioned ideas, the speedway was no place for unescorted females; and his mood wasn’t about change. As ashamed as Midge was, she didn’t want it to. Just seeing the determined expression on his face, she knew she’d suffer before this ordeal was over. When her eyes caught sight of the heavy leather paddle he gripped in his right hand, she had even more reason to be afraid. The thick hide had been drilled with holes, and she could see that there was definitely some give to the implement. A good snap of his wrist, the thing would sting like hell.
In a last ceremony of preparation, Hank lifted the band of Midge’s pale panties and slowly drew them over her ass, so that her two cheeks seemed to swell as they were released, displaying the expanse of skin that would soon burn. Leaving the slip of nylon dangling at her knees, he stepped away. Quickly taking a spot to her left, he began to spank the leather paddle up and down her backside. His strikes came down with blinding speed so there was no catching her breath until he finally stopped long enough to allow them both to take in a breath of air.
“Better quit your dancing or you’ll hurt yourself,” he warned.
Sure, she thought resentfully. Maybe if he’d let her take off the shoes, but no, he probably liked the way she looked in them—he’d said more than once that her bountiful behind looked especially pretty with her feet in heels. Midge couldn’t believe her anger—she’d never really been mad at Hank, but she was now—or mad at someone. Tricked. She felt tricked, by Hank, by fate, by Cissy—God knows, she had no idea who’d set her up, but that’s exactly how she felt.
No more chance to think this through, her brooding thoughts were knocked from her by the paddle coming down even harder than it had before—or maybe it was just that her behind was already aching.
“Oh, Hank, please,.” She tried to kick her heels off. “Ouch! Damn. Shit, that stings!” She nearly stumbled.
Hank stopped again. “Leave them on!” He was practically roaring, and she instantly gave up the struggle. “I told you to calm down, and you’ll do it now!” His voice ripped right through her. “You pull stunts like this last one, this is what you’ll get. I’m not about to give up until you start getting that through your head—or your butt, if that’s a better place to learn it.”
Smacking her again, she tried harder to calm. She certainly squelched her cries, since he obviously didn’t like them; though she moaned a lot because she couldn’t help it. This was as harsh a spanking as he’d ever given her, and worse yet, Hank wasn’t content to simply focus on her bottom. The paddled drifted lower to her thighs, peppering those with blows that stung as meanly as the ones on her butt. She was howling after these, finding him returning to her ass, only to drift downward several times before he finished.
When he finally dropped the paddle on a bale of straw, he stepped back to examine the damage visible in the dim light. The bounty of her abundant behind glowed with a deep rosy blush, and her thighs below were as hot and sumptuously colored. Placing a hand on the burning skin, he gave it a good squeeze.
“You think you learned your lesson here?” he asked.
“Yes, yes I did.” She was eager to agree, but not yet settled—like she sometimes was after she’d been punished.
“Lying is the fastest way to lose me, the next is doing something as foolish as running off with your reckless friend. You hit them both this time. And it won’t happen again. Is that understood?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Good.”
Midge sighed, glad the ordeal was over, or at least the worst of it had passed.
Taking her wrists from the hook above her head, Hank let them down, kindly massaging her aching arms. Until he touched them she hadn’t realized how sore they’d become, and the feel of his hands began to effect her sexually—even though she didn’t want to feel that way. Under the surface of her surrender, she was still disgruntled, and she forced her desires aside. Unfortunately, Hank had an uncanny ability to read her thoughts and her disquiet.
“All right, Midge, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she lied.
He smacked her behind. “Do you want me to start all over again or are you going to tell me the truth?”
“No, I’m sorry, please don’t,” she turned inside his space finding herself standing way too close for comfort, but Hank wasn’t stepping back and there was nowhere else to go.
“Come clean now, or I’ll start all over.”
She hated feeling so ashamed in front of him and hung her head sheepishly so he couldn’t see her expression. A lot of good that did, he only raised her chin with his hand and forced her eyes on his.
“I’m mad,” she admitted.
“No lie there,” he agreed. “Want to tell me why?”
“Not, really.”
Hank found her petulance a bit cute, but it was not acceptable now and he wouldn’t be amused no matter how sweetly defiant she looked. “Boy, you are having a hard time understanding tonight.” Turning her abruptly to her side, he gave her bottom a few punishing cracks of his hand, which had her shrieking in seconds. “But you can change your mind.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry.”
He stood her upright again.
“I’m mad because I shouldn’t have gone with Cissy, and I shouldn’t have lied. I know that and I’m still pissed. In fact, I really don’t know why I’m pissed. I’m all confused. I don’t know who to be mad at.”
“Maybe yourself,” Hank suggested.
“Me?”
“Yes, you’re pissed because you can’t get away with anything anymore. You knew that. You tried, and you got caught. Life’s little lessons have a way of hitting hard, especially when you know better. You’re not an innocent teenager anymore. You’re woman trying to mature.”
“And yet, you treat me like a child.”
“Oh, no. I’d never discipline a child like I did you tonight. This is definitely an adult experience.”
Midge took a deep breath, trying to clear out what was troubling her and it seemed to be working.
“Growing pains, Midge. That’s all it is,” he assured her.
“How come your so damned wise?” she asked.
“I have no clue. And sometimes I’m not wise at all; but I have a sixth sense about you. Don’t ever try to pull stunts on me. It will never work. I know you like I know my own hand.”
She had little doubt that was true, and that befuddled her even more.
“Now,” he seemed to finally lighten, “if you have your anger handled let’s get on with things.”
“If it’s not?” she asked.
“Well, you can go back on the wall again,” he nodded toward the brick side of the stall where her hands had been tethered. Knowing he was dead serious, she wouldn’t quarrel and another deep breath seemed to ease the rest of her anxiety.
Reasonably assured that h
er tiny mutiny was over, Hank took her by the arm, finally pulling her over the stacked bales. The straw was little comfort for the naked Midge. Poked and pricked, there was hardly any way to squirm that she wasn’t scratched by the bristly stuff. And yet, assuming she was about to have her pussy stuffed with his erection, she let this discomfort slide. Her body was on fire with lust, heat still pouring from her punished behind. All that went straight to her pussy where she could tell there was a flood of sexy liquid gathering. Her sex began to clench in anticipation, though the reward was not the one she expected.
Yes, Hank’s hands went for her molten snatch, swathing his fingers in the juice. But instead of lubricating the way for his cock, he covered a dildo with her wetness and began to probe her anus with the rounded end—just as he had nearly every time they made love. In ever increasing increments, he’d been working these rods into her behind, allowing for the most crudely beautiful sensation of physical surrender to overtake all her other desires. Her anticipation mounted each time he worked the channel. Certainly, he was a generously endowed man, but could he be so large that it required weeks to prepare her? Or was he simple toying with her, raising her desire until she was practically begging? She was begging now, at least with her mind. She couldn’t yet spit out the words, but if he knew her as well as claimed to, he’d know this, too. Letting the sensations renew in her, she squirmed against the miserable straw—that, too, increasing her present torment.
She even hissed with a gentle, “Yesssssssss,” as her body jerked and jiggled on the prick. She opened wider still—this long dildo going to dangerous lengths inside her ass, and she only wanted more.
When Hank finally plunged his member into her snatch below, she had both holes filled, and rocked with them both until her orgasm shook each place, and Hank’s prick thundered to a climax.
“I know you want my dick here,” he said as he withdrew the dildo from her ass. “If you’d have behaved yourself, Midge, that would have happened tonight. Instead, you’ll have to wait.”
She wanted to ask why; but by then, she was so exhausted she just couldn’t spit out the words. She wanted to join him in his bed in the guesthouse on the hill, but she didn’t ask about that either. He put her in such a supremely empty place that their drive home was spent in silence, Midge leaning again Hank’s shoulder, his hand caressing her thigh. Her whole body ached from the awesome results of the night, and she only wanted more.
Chapter Ten
Hell hath no fury…
Nearly three a.m., the night was as black as any in several weeks. The storm would come by morning, perhaps not before, but already there was the sound of thunder rumbling across the valley. Amanda smelled the air, sensing the moisture, and other things. There was a disquieting feeling about the town of Birch Valley at this hour. When it should have been as peaceful as the sleepy town looked, she couldn’t shake her agitation Maybe it was just her own nerves. For her own purposes, however, she had put her apprehensions aside. It had taken her two days to let her plan take shape, and once settled on, there was no way she’d turn back; no matter how much her hair stood on end responding to the night, or how many goosebumps appeared on her skin.
Good thing there was a side door to the newspaper office. She might not have had the guts to even try this if she had to break into the Review under the glaring porch light. Though the streets were usually deserted this time of night, you could never be sure when some stray drunk, or the Sheriff wouldn’t just happen to pass by. With a side door to the building, the plan looked flawless. Armed with her flashlight and a few things to jimmy the lock, she parked the old and hopefully unrecognizable truck behind the building and crept toward the door, sticking to the shadows.
Her task went swiftly. Obviously, Jake didn’t think there was too much to protect in the Review office. It took no more than a minute to wiggle the lock and have the handle turn. Inside, she closed the door behind her and turned on a flashlight, searching through the gloom for Jake’s desk. For an entire week, the clues of Jake’s covert plans had mounted—until there was a great big stack of them sitting in her brain and she couldn’t get them off her mind. Beginning with the business card, the appointment with Burger & Stone, there were shortened conversations—times she’d walk into the stable office only to have Jake abruptly hang up the phone—and the night he gathered the business records in his hands and took off with him in his briefcase. She had to see those books! But she couldn’t find them. She’d even looked for them at his house the last time they were together—nothing. There was only one place left to search.
With every small find or troubling incident, Amanda’s suspicions increased and her anger magnified, turning her boyfriend into a bastard, their love affair into a sham, and her feelings of love into a sour sensation in the pit of her stomach, which gnawed on her all day and made it difficult to sleep. When he’d suggested they get together, she put him off saying she wasn’t feeling well. He knew she was preoccupied with something, but he was preoccupied, too; and this lapse in their once steamy relationship seemed to serve them both. She had to put everything out of her head except her detective work. This was her stables, yes, her stables! The investors be hanged! Including Jake Colton!
Amanda searched through several stacks of papers on Jake’s desk, finding nothing. She went through desk drawers, file cabinets, wastebaskets, all with no results. There was nothing but newspaper records, certainly no books from the stables. She thumbed through an old datebook, and poured over the scribblings he’d made on his desk blotter. Still, no clues. After searching everywhere, it seemed just one place left to try, and that proved tougher than gaining entry to the building.
The one tall cabinet in the corner was locked as tight as a drum. She fumed, banged the metal with her fist, and then took a deep breath trying to figure out what do. Almost deciding to pack it in, she was suddenly swarmed by bright lights flooding the newspaper office. She squinted as they blinded her vision for several seconds. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light, she found herself staring at Garth Branch toting a gun.
“Hey, it’s just me! Amanda Plover.” Her hands shot up in fright.
Garth stepped back, pushed his deputy hat back off his forehead and shook his head. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” he asked.
“Nothing, nothing really.”
“Jake know you’re here?”
“No, I mean, yes.” Damn, she sounded guilty.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in.”
She was really anxious now. “Oh, Garth, come on. I was getting something for Jake.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. But I couldn’t find it.”
“And what was this something?”
“Ah, um…” she paused too long, her mind drawing a blank for any reasonable excuse to pop in her brain. She wasn’t used to lying and was obviously no good at it. “He just needed some papers, couldn’t find them. I was just about to leave.”
“Funny, Jake didn’t mention this to me. We’ll see if the story checks out, since Jake’s on his way.”
“He is?”
“I called him before I entered the building.”
Oh, shit! “Listen, this was just a…” she stammered, “Couldn’t we just forget it?”
Garth looked as miserable as she felt. “Amanda, you don’t belong here and you know it. You haven’t given me a reasonable explanation. If Jake says it’s nothing, then it’s nothing. Until he gets here, you’d better just sit tight, because we’re going nowhere.”
This was something she never counted on. She was just too smart for anything so stupid; and here the County Sheriff was about to arrest and cuff her. How could she let herself get into this?
Keeping his eye on her, Garth took a seat at Jake’s desk; and with no other choice before her, she took one herself.
The minutes ticked off in the grueling silence. Garth would shift his weight and his feet would scuff the floor. She’d let out a sigh. That was
about all the sound for nearly ten minutes until Jake Colton rattled the front door of the newspaper office and walked in.
“Amanda?” he looked at her shocked. “You?”
“Yeah, me,” she murmured under her breath.
“What in crissakes are you doing here at this time of night?”
“I was looking for something,” she said.
“And what was that?”
She decided not to say a word since every possible answer was too incriminating.
“Amanda?” Jake was baffled though growing angrier and more weary the longer she kept her silence. “Amanda!” he tried to jolt her with a rude tone of voice, a miserably cold one this time—enough to make her think it was the dead of winter and someone had forgotten to turn on the heat. She jumped hearing the volume.
“You’re trying to sell Birch Valley Stables out from under me, Jake Colton, and I won’t let you!” She stormed from her chair. “Go ahead, arrest me,” she turned to Garth with her hands out for him to cuff, “I’m guilty.”
“What the hell?” Garth was too confused to do a thing.
“Yeah, Garth, you’d better put her behind bars. Let her sit in jail and stew.”
“You’re serious,” Garth looked from one to the other.
“Yes, I’m serious,” Amanda answered defiantly.
“You’re damn right,” Jake agreed. “Lock her up for the night. For the rest of her life for all I care.” Then he turned toward the fuming Amanda, pointing a finger toward her face. “I do everything in my power to save your fuckin’ property and this is how you repay me.” The way he seethed, one might expect he’d be exhaling fumes if he went on much longer—either that or slapping her. Jake was, however, was not the kind to strike a woman on her face—especially in anger. So, backing down from the confrontation, he suddenly slammed his fist into the door—ouch! That had to hurt. Garth and Amanda both winced. “Get her out of my office!”
Garth grabbed the guilty brat by the arm and the two retreated, taking the side door into the alley where he pushed the steaming beauty into the front seat of the county truck.
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 11