“I beg no pardons, ma’am, but I will lay my belt on a fractious lady’s ass if she so warrants. Or perhaps you forgot our last time together?”
“I haven’t forgotten at all,” I said. “But I would like to know what gives you the right to make such demands on a woman you have no claim to.”
“Ah, but I do have a claim on you, Kiley McCarron,” he said with a rude grin on his hairy face.
I stood my ground, fuming. My chest heaved in anger, but I was afraid to speak. And then there was that feeling coming from him. Unnerving, I felt myself going weak, faltering when I should have been tough as nails with the brute.
“See,” he chuckled, “It’s there in your eyes. You want a man of my charms, admit it.”
“You have no charm,” I said resolved.
“No?” he laughed full. “I have much charm, my sassy mistress.”
I recoiled instantly. “I’m not your mistress!” I declared.
“Ah, but you will be after today.” He reached out and pulled me toward him, toward the bath, the water, and the soap. Before I knew what was happening, my clothes were stripped from me and I was naked in the tub with him, rubbing his hairy chest with a thick washcloth.
I performed the rite he asked for as any whore would accommodate a paying customer, yet I found myself unbelievably aroused the way his hands combed my body while I worked. He was especially attentive to my ass, under the water, kneading it as though he could change the shape with his bare hands. I squirmed, not intending to, but such a fire was kindled it was impossible to ignore it.
“Ah, yes, after today,” he said smugly. “You’ll do anything I ask.”
“I will not!” I protested vehemently, but that only raised a nasty gleam in his dark eyes. There I was again, in a matter of seconds, lifted from where my ass was deep inside the water, my poor body thrust over the edge of the tub, my rear cheeks raised in the air, and the desperado’s hand coming down on wet flesh making my whole hind end burn. This time he wasn’t angry with me, and between one rude burst of smacks he’d fondle my privates, reaching in with his fingers to find my womanly bud swollen and sensitive to even the slightest touch. Realizing the painful arousal in me, he then backed off and whacked my ass again, stimulating this dreadful passion even more. I hated myself becoming a withering flower in his command, but I couldn’t stop what the heat was doing to my smoldering insides. What was far worse was that I couldn’t stop wanting this rough man to take me anyway he chose. I wriggled about trying to get away, but then, with his hold on me as firm as ever, I relinquished everything. During one pause in the spanking, the orgasm in me crescendoed to a rich peak of satisfaction and I was over the top, writhing happily on those skilled fingers.
“There,” he said, seeming to be as satisfied as I was when it was over. He pulled me back into the tub and fondled my breasts as he gazed on me with a contented grin. “I proved my point.”
“Oh, you are a dastardly man,” I retorted. I could hardly even breathe, though I was trying to regain some of the composure I’d lost.
“Are you a betting woman?” he asked me.
“Betting? You mean do I gamble? Yes, and I win all the time.”
“Then I’d bet you’ll be mine alone before the winter is over, Kiley McCarren. I’ll have you anywhere I want and you won’t object.” I looked at him stunned. “Now, you sassy whore, get yourself out of the tub and warm a towel for me or I’ll lay my belt on you in seconds.”
Dazed and bewildered I stumbled from the tub and followed his orders. Then exiting the wash room, I made my way naked to my room where I quickly donned another dress and tried to escape downstairs. The desperado caught me before I could get even halfway, and in silence he pulled me up the stairs. And there I was, in spite of myself, naked in my bed with him once again. This time it felt as though he was making love to me and I couldn’t let go, no matter how much my poor, confused mind was reeling from this amazing brute. When he finished, he held me close to him. There was comfort in his embrace, and fear as well. He looked at me with kindness and that was almost worse than his gruff manner.
“You need the money your whoring brings?” he asked.
“No?” I admitted honestly.
He looked pleased. “Then don’t do it again. You do, it’ll be to the woodshed for you.”
“How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do!” I was indignant once again.
He smacked my ass hard. “You are my mistress, Kiley McCarron, no one else will have you.”
“I cannot promise you that,” I said, still feeling quite defiant. Even so, I couldn’t imagine any man that could be as wild and rude and wonderful to make love to as this one. I knew I could be satisfied with just his hairy loins and fat cock. Even the slapping of his palm against my ass made me hot with desire.
“I’d suggest you search your heart, and then behave yourself. I will honor my vow, even if you can’t seem to make one.”
“And what vow is that?” I asked.
“I’ll remain chaste for you.”
“You certainly don’t need to.”
“But I shall, and you’ll do me the favor of returning my pledge, that is unless you really want to know what it’s like to have your ass burn.”
“I think I already know that, thank you,” I said.
“Ah, your daddy whip you?” he asked.
“I suppose he did,” I said.
“But it wasn’t like it’s been with me, was it?”
“Certainly not! My daddy was a drunken bastard, but he never laid his hand on me for anything but punishment that I suppose I deserved.”
“Then, I’ll not either,” he said, though I won’t vow not to take your cunt afterwards.” There was the glimmer of the devil in him.
I eyed the man, so perplexed I really didn’t know what to say. “I think Brady Jarret, that this is a strange kind of promise you want from me. What kind of life can it be with a desperado like you? What good would it be to fall in love with a man who has the barrel of the sheriff’s pistol pointed at his head. I’d be foolish to give my heart and promises to you.”
“Ah,” his face softened so sweetly. “But I think you already have.”
I couldn’t deny it, but I certainly wasn’t going to admit it. Slithering out of his grasp, I stood beside his wondrously naked body and dressed. I didn’t have a thing to say because there were huge tears forming in my eyes.
“I’ll leave it for you to decide, pretty one,” he said. And then, he was off.
I can’t say I wasn’t worried every second until I knew he was safely out of town.
Brady Jarret came to my bed weekly for two months, and for two months I refused to sell myself, even to the regular guys that were used to having me on their whim. I created quite a ruckus with them, especially when I claimed it was the wrong time of the month for six weeks straight. I finally leveled with the best of them, and said there was a man I was promised to—of course I didn’t tell anyone who that was. To my dismay, word got out about my secret beau and the girls in the house and the guys in town didn’t want to let the matter drop until they knew who’d stolen Kiley McCarron’s heart.
Two months—I endured them rather easily, thinking of Brady, my dear desperado. I relished the dead of night when he’d sneak into my bed and we enjoyed our kisses, and the playful midnight spankings. We had to be reasonably quiet, however, since I didn’t want the girls snooping around and finding out who was screwing me. It was just as well no one knew, even my best friend, Jennymae.
Then, there was the week that he didn’t come and I got anxious. Another week and I was feeling desperate. Then the third, and I was making casual inquiries about “wanted” men with the sheriff, trying to be coy about my reasons for knowing about the dreadful outlaws that played havoc on quiet towns like ours. “Never can be too careful who tries to sleep with one of my girls,” I told him.
“You have anyone in mind?” he asked me.
“I really don’t know,” I said. “Just wo
nder who’s still roaming loose.”
For all my prying, I found out nothing about Brady Jarret, if he’d been captured or was lying in an unmarked grave in some cemetery.
After a few more weeks without his visit, I finally, for practical reasons of income, I decided to halt my enforced celibacy from my working girl trade. The roof of the saloon needed repair before winter, and turning a few tricks was the easiest way to earn the cash. Besides, I was missing the warm arms and hot cock of a man. At that point, any good man would do.
For the next several weeks, I was hot and sassy again, climbing on gambler’s laps, flirting with lusty land barons and cowboys, and dallying with disaster. One especially late evening, I discovered later, my desperado was peeking in the saloon window unbeknownst to me or anyone else. Right when I was letting a sweet brute of a cowboy run his hands down the bodice of my satin dress and pluck a fair freckled tit from its confinement, Brady’s eyes were fixed on the illicit act. Following that nearly public groping in the saloon proper, the desperado watched as I dragged the lanky young cow poke up the stairs to bed.
It was a hell of a night that followed. I’d have been better off if the cowboy had stayed, but he was quick out the door after he’d dropped his seed in me, and that gave my desperado the opportunity to attack.
“What the hell you doing!” he blared at me, none too quietly I might add. He reached out to me in my bed and grabbed me from a night’s journey into a lovely, sexy dream.
“Brady! My god, I thought you’d never return.” I was so glad to see him I was nearly in tears. I threw myself at him and held on tightly.
“I suppose you didn’t, my fair weather mistress. Seems I need to remind you of a few things,” he said, as he pushed me back.
“Ah, love, I thought you’d been arrested or were dead. It’s been so long, how was I suppose to know?”
“Your constancy so weak that you started screwing around so soon?”
“Please, Brady, let’s not war,” I pleaded with him. I tried taking him in my arms again, running my hands over all the right places to arouse his manly passions.
“After I do as I promised, then we’ll make love.”
He was reaching for his belt, and I shivered, realizing what he was planning to do.
“No, no please,” I tried to dissuade him.
His look was terrifying, he scowled as angrily as I’d ever seen him, and the passion in his eyes looked like death itself, or God incensed to a righteous wrath.
He had the belt loose and in his hand, doubled without my being able to stop him.
“No, not here, the girls will hear. You said the shed.”
“Yes, the shed will do,” he agreed, and he hauled me off my bed. I only had seconds to find my robe and pull it around my shoulders. My nightgown was hardly enough to cover me from the cold of the night. Half dragging me, we took the balcony of the saloon around to the back and stole silently down the steps. Skirting the moonlit places in the yard, we headed straight for the woodshed opposite the two outhouses. The only sound we made was the door rattling as it opened. Yet, I was sure that more noise than I wanted to hear would soon be kissing the nighttime air.
Inside the woodshed, Brady lit a lantern with a match and the glow of it cast long orange/yellow shadows around the crude walls.
“I told you, I’d have your ass, you took money for your sweet cunt again. How many times has it been?”
“I thought you were dead!” I tried to reason with him one more time.
“How many times was it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, nearly in tears.
“You do know, bitch!” he was just short of roaring. Not to cause anymore curiosity from outside the shed I had to answer.
“I’m not sure, but I went back in business two weeks ago, I suppose there have been a half-dozen or so.”
That information made him even more angry, his scowl turning darker, so dark I thought I could see smoke curling from his ears. He looked like a charging bull.
I tried to look painfully meek and penitent, but it was obvious that there was no escaping the punishment that he’d lay on. And the truth? I was actually looking forward to it. I knew it would hurt more than any hand spanking he’d given me, and there wouldn’t be any tender fondling in the middle just to alleviate the pain. No, this would be rough going start to finish; but then, I was strangely feeling guilty over my lack of virtue. His belt on my ass seemed like the perfect way to pay for my crimes. I hadn’t realized until I was staring him down, looking contrite in the face of his harrowing grimace, that I really did love him with all my heart. I was glad to see him, glad to be punished by him and suddenly so aroused by the further possibilities of the night, I wasn’t sure that this would even hurt.
That stray thought, of course, was a painful miscalculation. But an error in common sense or not, it made no difference what my next minutes would be like.
Once the irate desperado was ready for the task, he hauled me to the woodpile, pushed me against the rough-cut firewood and pulled up my robe and nightgown so he could have a clear shot at my white ass. I thought he was going to hold me steady the whole time, that he’d stand close with one hand on my back, the other doing the nasty deed, laying the doubled leather on my expectant derriere. To my surprise, however, he left me to clutch the jagged edges of a log or two of wood, and stood back so he could unfurl the belt to its full and impressive length.
I gasped for air in the breathless, close confines, gripped by a sudden panic in my heart. It beat so fast I could feel the pounding in my ears. My face was hot and flushed. Looking back at him, I cringed even more as I saw him draw back his arm and bring the belt down toward my pushed-out ass. I closed my eyes waiting for the strike, and then listened to the sound of the leather spank my broad ass cheeks, as it extended from one side to the other, meanly catching the side of my hips.
I shrieked.
Feeling the next snap of leather, I was solely into the pain, the sting that radiated from the center where he aimed his blows. One strike after another rained down on me and with each, the shrieks and cries that issued from my lips were woeful and heartfelt. I jerked each time the belt landed, and could see in my mind’s eye my flesh turn crimson. I wiggled heartily, but then, not too much. Every time I writhed too much, the belt would snap the side of my hip again. With so little padding there, the pain would shoot through me like a knife blade cutting my skin. I can’t recall how long he went on before he finally paused. Then, I wilted to the floor, hoping that he was done with me for the night.
“Get up!” he roared. His voice was fierce, but in deference for the nighttime hour, he was not as sharp with me as he might have been. I can’t say I’d been as cautious with my own shrieks and cries.
“I can’t,” I wailed. Tears that had been held back were spilling from my eyes in a steady stream.
“Up, wench, you’re not done yet.”
He sounded fierce, but he also sounded sincere like an angry father, admonishing a straying child.
“I’m so sorry, my love, I’ll never …” I tried.
“I’ll hear your promises later,” he returned. “Now, if you don’t want this to go on all night, you’d better get to your feet and let me have your ass.”
By then, my bottom wasn’t screaming at me anymore. In fact, the warmth of the blaze diminished to a sensuous glow of heat. If only … I thought to myself. If only the next smacks would just augment this feeling.
I was dismayed immediately, however. Bending over the woodpile again, I felt his next round as fiercely as I’d felt the first and this one went on longer.
“Yeeeeeowwww!” I cried, when one meanly caught the base of my ass cheeks, and then several others were laid on the tops of my thighs. “Noooooooo,” the long protest came from a guttural level somewhere inside me, a place where I’d never felt such pain before. Perhaps, I’d gained his sympathy because he returned to whipping the center of my ass, laying another bright and forceful round of punishment on th
e most padded parts.
He kept up the pace, pausing after every few smacks to let me get a fresh—or rather stale—breath of air. The atmosphere around us was so hot, even being a late fall night with a heady chill in the air, it felt like the heat of a summer’s day. I found that the longer he went on, the more I became accustomed to the pain, that instead of being as brutal as those first harsh smacks, I could bear the new ones. Perhaps my ass was simply numb, or perhaps it was the desire burning in me. I know that I was less prone to shrieks, in fact they finally died away altogether so that I was squirming hot with each blow that landed. I was almost looking forward to the next.
I think when Brady thought I was too comfortable with the pain, he’d lay it against me especially hard until he heard me protest again. This went on for some minutes, though like I’ve said, I have no judgment of time in these things. I only know that we were finally exhausted. After one particularly long pause, I slumped again to the dusty earth beneath me, and rested my hot bottom on the cool ground.
“Enough?” I looked up at him sorrowfully.
I could see in his eyes, a kindness had replaced the ferocity that had defined the last half hour. He still looked grim and serious, but not nearly as much as he’d been when all this started.
“Enough,” he confirmed. “You’ll believe me now, I should think.” He was quite adamant with that comment. And as I watched him put his belt back around his waist, I breathed a sigh of relief. As much as the final smacks might have pleased me, as much as they might have had some erotic quality, I wasn’t sure that I could take anymore. “Now get up, my fair brat,” he ordered and I quickly complied.
I was a limp and wilted flower in his hands that night. But oh, how he refreshed me and made me bloom again. After some moments of quiet, we slipped back up the stairs and into my room through the open window.
In bed, he was once again my handsome desperado, his hands going everywhere, along my thighs, about my cunt, and, of course, about my red and punished cheeks. It didn’t take too long for the bright hue to fade, though the soreness would remain for some time, especially with his hands caressing the flesh with such a fervent passion. I admit, those caresses were the most lovely that I’ve ever known. More than just a reminder of my vow to him and how he’d keep me to that vow forever, they brought me such an amazing arousal. After so many nights without him, they made me frantic to know his cock inside me, eager to please him in any way he wanted. I still can’t believe the power he has over me, how it seems to renew with every touch of his hand, whether that touch is cruel or tender. I only knew after this trip to the woodshed and the aftermath, that I’d be taking money from no man. No man but my desperado would enjoy the comfort of my bed.
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 21