Birches, Cowgirls & Angels

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “So, my reckless brat, are you ready?” His voice came out of the blue. She hadn’t heard him enter the room, and she jerked around startled.

  “I’m not yours,” she told him, the rejoinder coming out almost without thinking.

  “For the next half hour you’re mine, at least this ass end of yours is.”

  She looked down to his side and noted the two ghastly looking implements he carried in his left hand. He clutched the wide leather razor strap in the middle, the two sides dangling on either side so it appeared a good three feet long. Clutched alongside the leather was a bamboo cane, polished and slightly frayed at the end, like it had been used a few times before. She’d endured the kiss of leather on her behind, plenty of times, but never something as vile and dangerous looking as the bamboo.

  “They make you shudder?” Ty asked, looking at her expression.

  “Not as much as you probably want them to,” she said, her voice quaking.

  He didn’t counter what she said, but they both knew she was scared as hell.

  “You want to take down your jeans, or shall I?” he asked.

  “I’ll do it myself, thank you,” she replied. At least this was some measure of control in this very humbling situation.

  Turning her back on Ty, she began to undo the snap at the waist of her jeans and push the denim over her hips. Kicking off her flats, she eased the pants over her legs and wiggled out of them altogether. Looking over her shoulder she waited for some sign from him.

  “I’ll take care of the panties,” he said, just as she was about to reach for them. “Over the chair.”

  The order was crisp and decisive, bold like Ty’s style, and sent a shiver deep so it resounded through her with a thunder that was as uncomfortable as it was rousing. She approached the chair cautiously. How convenient, the padded back was at hip height—perhaps a natural function of its design, this feature handy for a dominant sort of fellow like Ty. Dusty obliged the man, time to turn this regrettable affair in her life into a memory. Someday, it would be just a small wrinkle in her life, one that would ease out with a bit of distance. If only she were that far along and didn’t have to live with the pain and shame.

  Waiting was rough. She heard Ty’s boots on the wood floor. They’d kick up dust in this dusty room. But their clatter was a welcoming, soothing sound. Some days she wished for the warm sound of a man’s boots on wood, tapping in the night when they came in from working a ranch. It could be a nurturing sound, those heels clicking with their measured beat across her days, or even making an erratic music as they moved a stern man into an act of retribution.

  Feeling Ty’s hands at her waist, she shuddered. They were incredibly warm. As he slowly lifted the waistband of her panties, the shudder ran deeper still. Drawing the thin material over her bottom to bare her ass cheeks, he seemed to be creeping along in slow-motion. Though he’d spanked her bare-bottomed before, this unveiling was intensely deliberate and curiously erotic. Having bared his target, Ty let her panties drift down toward her knees where they settled. He stepped back.

  Closing her eyes, Dusty gritted her teeth, anticipating the sting of the leather. When it struck she squinted and wiggled her ass. The blows that followed came with a steady beat she could count on. And though the smacking noise rang in her ears, there was still the sound of his boots, moving him from spot to spot as he made sure he was getting her fair ass at all the right angles—making sure that the blush on her behind was one even shade of red.

  It hurt, the pain coming in surges. There were moments when the descending leather hit a hot spot that was already flaming. And moments when the strap hit new ground. She squealed and begged him to stop when he caught the top of her thighs with several nasty smacks.

  “Nooo, ouch, no, pleeeese,” she wailed with a plaintive cry when the pain got too hot not to protest. There were tears in her eyes and a sob in her heart, but she kept most of her anguish hushed. “Ty, nooooooooooooooo,” she cried, when the agony seemed beyond endurance.

  Once, she opened her eyes and peered back at the pitiless man. His expression was grim, determined, and very personal. Like he really cared about her, as though he had some vested interest in Dusty beyond her paying this debt to him, as if she was more to him than an annoying intrusion into the order of his life.

  Her eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t looking. His gaze was on her ass alone—sure to be bright now with all the flames he’d set to burning.

  Closing her eyes again she closed him out, yet the sight of his face didn’t disappear from her mind, nor did the feeling he aroused in her. With the pain increasing, she stepped up her natural reactions, clutching the chair more firmly, her ass clenching tightly, her feet dancing an erratic two-step as though that would alter the sensation. Nothing she tried made it any better and nothing would end her agony except Ty himself. She never felt this defenseless, never this exposed, like he could open her soul and peer right in and know what was there.

  When he finally stopped, she waited for a long time anticipating another blow that didn’t come.

  “I could go on,” he remarked.

  “Oh, Ty, no.”

  “No? You think you’ve had enough? You think you’ve been wounded enough, you think you’ve paid your due? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Ty, yes.” She looked back at him again, but saw nothing but the concrete cool resolve in his eyes—detachment, ferocity and steel that wouldn’t waver no matter how she pleaded.

  “I’m finished with the strap, Dusty, but I do like admiring the look of your ass. Gives me lots of inspiration as I think about where I’ll lay the cane.”

  “Oh, please, not that.” The heat of the strapping was just beginning to flow in an easy erotic warmth she welcomed. More pain, no.

  “How does it feel?” he asked. He’d come to her side and laid his hand on her ass. The feel of his fingers roused her more, his touch electrifying the sensations already spinning beyond her control. “Is it hot? Does it hurt?” He slapped her one cheek, the pain returning

  “Ah, noooo,” she purred even as she swayed like a seducing cat.

  “How does it feel being at my mercy? You want to rant at me more, you want to spit or kick me? You hate me now?”

  She surely did, but she couldn’t find words. The feel of this hand on her ass was all she could think of.

  “You want the cane, don’t you?”

  “No, Ty, please,” she moaned in agony, the effect of his massage contradicting her passionate pleas.

  “Oh, yeah, you want it. Just look at how you move on me.” He caught her swaying lewdly, so this intimate fondling dispelled even her doubts. “You’re not going to admit it to me, but I know that the cane is the only thing that will satisfy you right now. The pain means something to a woman as selfish and willful as you are. It means sometimes you don’t get to win, sometimes you like being taken by a man, sometimes you just want to feel small and used and lost. You may not ever admit that. But I know it’s true. This half-breed cowpoke doesn’t know too much about women, but I know this one thing about you. It’s so clear I wonder that other men don’t see it the way I do. I’m sure if they did, some guy would have swept you into his grasp a long time ago.” He shifted on his feet and pulled his hand back. “Yeah, I’m going to cane you, Dusty.”

  “Please, Ty. You don’t have to do this. You could stop right now and we’d both be satisfied.” She was almost completely turned around so she could look him in the eye as she spoke.

  He shook his head. “I don’t see it that way. There aren’t many men who would have the guts to put you in your place, and I’d wager if I stop now, you’d never have any respect for me.”

  “Ty, no.”

  He stared at her immovable. “I’m going to cane your ass and it’s going to hurt more than all the strappings you’ve ever had. It’s going to cut enough to leave some bruises, and you’re going to hate it when it happens.” His eyes twinkled nastily. “But you’re going to love every minute of
it. Even if you never admit that to anyone else, admit it to yourself.”

  Stepping back still further, Ty picked up the cane and let the first cut tear the air, then tear at Dusty’s rough skin as it landed on the center of her ass cheeks.

  “Ahhhhhh,” she moaned, and bore down.

  The next struck harder, and the next was as vile, and the fourth made her scream and shoot up from her bent over position.

  Without missing a beat, the rancher shoved her heartlessly back in place and repeated the cuts of the cane with another four that whisked briskly through the air and boldly crisscrossed the previous ones.

  She howled, her body jerking out of control until the fire of the attack subsided enough for her to calm. “No, no more!” she finally found a voice for her protests.

  “You wouldn’t respect me if I stopped now,” he repeated his earlier refrain. He let the ninth cut fly so it sliced both cheeks with the a biting gash. An angry weal appeared, and then another as the tenth cut hit.

  Dusty howled unhappily and with that one, the tears she held back started to flow.

  The eleventh cut etched a brilliant wound across the top of her thighs, and then as if he had some degree of mercy, the final one sliced immediately thereafter leaving its imprint just below the scarred skin above it.

  Twelve. Thank God it was over.

  The silence that followed was broken when Ty spoke. “I’ll let you recover by yourself and I’ll see you outside when you’re ready.” He left Dusty to her sobs and the startling revelations she was so distressed to acknowledge about herself.

  When Dusty strode from Ty’s study into the greatroom she was careful not to let him know the pain she felt with every step she took. He was there, sitting in his chair reading a hunting magazine. Looking up at her, he was on his feet in seconds.

  “Our business is finished,” she said. “I’ll have my lawyer get a hold of you to draw up the papers?”

  “It’s no hurry for me, as long as the agreement’s as we discussed.”

  “I don’t plan on any changes. I’m just happy to have my store back.”

  He nodded.

  The awkward moment didn’t end even as they moved toward the front door. There, they stood painfully close, something brewing. Something that might have been ignored altogether, except that for just a moment their lips met. She was shocked by the tender touch and stood as though she was frozen, though there was heat flooding her everywhere.

  “I see there is a way to soften you, Dusty Marin,” Ty said as he stepped back.

  For the first time in her life, Dusty had nothing to say. Leaving was a lot easier than the alternatives, and those she didn’t want to consider.

  ***

  The sky was wide and open, blue and clear from one horizon to the next. It was morning and she sat on the small porch of her cabin, gazing into the endless vista beyond her, doing nothing, not even thinking, if she could help it. She considered this a present to herself after all the anguish of the past two months, of Ty Holbrook and getting spanked in front of his luring cronies, and gossips and losing half her store and getting it back again after the nasty bout with his bamboo cane. She spent far too many hours thinking back on that last vile deed and even more on the kiss that seemed to end a most unpleasant detour in her life.

  Now though, she was floating on air, thinking she could touch the sky if she could just reach out far enough. And yet, she was feeling far too lazy to do even that. She planned to spend the next two days in the utter breathless silence of this brilliant mountain top. She didn’t care that she’d argued with Ty, once again, over the placement of the dwelling—his opinions were never hers. It was rock solid, rare for a mountain cabin. And even if the wind blew in hurricane blasts, she’d be safe. In fact, that great mountain wind was one of the refreshing parts of being lost and away from everything.

  Dusty spent the morning in the porch, the afternoon getting happily settled in the small space inside, and then the early evening until dark, making a pot of chili on her camp stove. The clear sky had given way to clouds, brewing like angry billows of smoke along the horizon. For a time, she could see lightning leap from cloud to cloud, but as it got closer, her desire to snuggle inside the cabin’s protection lured her within.

  Just as the storm was about to break free with rain, she heard a distinct rapping on her door. Then, without answering the knock, the door burst open and Ty stood before her.

  “You could have let me know,” she exclaimed seeing his handsome bearing. “I would have invited you for dinner.”

  “You’re coming with me,” he said.

  “My, this is all too familiar,” she said, recalling like déjà vu that fateful moment in the canyon. “You didn’t bring your minions, did you?”

  “Storms predicted to be one of the worst in years. I’m not going to fool around with your arguing.”

  “I had this cabin built to withstand this kind of weather,” she retorted, not in the least fazed by Ty. She wasn’t going to let the man affect her the way he had that last time, so she remained serene.

  “So, I’ll evict you,” he said. He was calm but nonetheless adamant.

  “You can’t do that, we have notarized documents that give me the right to be here until I die.”

  “Yes, and they give me sole ownership of this cabin, and you mere squatter’s rights.”

  “Ty, it’s mine as I want to use it.”

  “Not if it’s a danger to your life,” he said.

  “Who says there’s any danger to my life?” Dusty could feel the heat of a battle beginning to well inside her, just as the wind outside was whipping the trees around the cabin. She could hear sticks hit the roof and windows. Looking outside into the near darkness, she was actually worried.

  “You coming?” Ty asked, encouraging her with his offered hand.

  “I think I’ll stay,” she gave it one last try.

  With that statement said in a very defiant voice, Ty was on her, taking her under his arm, smacking his hand against her behind with a fierce blast of spanks.

  “Ouch!” she cried, though it hardly hurt with the denim padding her butt.

  He kept on until it was clear that he wouldn’t stop until she gave in.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll go with you, just stop!” she finally blared.

  He let her go the instant she relented. Then letting her gather a few things in her knapsack, the two started down the mountain toward his Jeep.

  It was tough going, the craggy hillside rough to negotiate in the dusky light. The footing was slippery especially when it started to rain. Ty held on tightly, both of them realizing the panic that was wild in her, and even the fear he had himself, wondering how they’d get down safely. Thunder crashed and buckets of water flooded the trail, washing out their footing altogether. Finally, with no other choice, they slid to a broad ledge some seven feet beneath them and scurrying into a small cave under the embankment, just as lightning hit their side of the mountain with a brilliant burst of fire.

  Dusty clung to Ty’s arms, wincing as each bolt flashed. The storm was right over them, venting a rage she hadn’t seen in years. Above them on the mountain, they heard a sudden crack as though a tree had been hit. The sound of splintering wood was as noxious to her ears as the next bolt of lightning. Bits of dust, debris and fractured lumber barreled down the steep embankment in front of their eyes. Dusty knew it was more than a tree that had been shattered by the electric jolt.

  “Ty, I have to go back up,” she hollered at him through the chaos. Pulling from his side, she crawled out on the ledge only to have Ty haul her back inside, jerking her arm angrily.

  “You’re going nowhere,” he shouted.

  “Like hell, I won’t, I’m going back up.”

  “To do what? Get yourself killed?”

  She struggled with him for some minutes, but Ty held her back with an energy even more fierce that her own and certainly a muscle strength she couldn’t match. They wrestled angrily until all her strength se
emed depleted. Outside, there was suddenly a deafening roar that matched the powerful storm itself, and more debris thundered down before their eyes. Dusty crouched low inside the cramped cave, frozen inside Ty’s arms. All her fight and fury seemed to have disappeared with these last pieces of her broken cabin sliding into oblivion. Ty, knowing her present agony, eased his grasp but not his tight hold. They waited not saying a word as the storm wore on, until they could sense it easing off, moving east to wreak havoc elsewhere. Then, slowly emerging from the cave onto the ledge they looked up into the black night seeing nothing. The rain continued to fall softly, but not enough to prevent their careful descent to the road and Ty’s waiting Jeep.

  “Where did you park?” he asked her when they finally reached the vehicle.

  “I hiked the whole way,” she said.

  “You really are crazy,” he replied, and they rode back to town in silence.

  “Just as they were pulling into Dusty’s driveway, another torrential downpour broke loose. With a hundred yards to her front door, she was drenched by the time she reached the porch. Ty was at her heels all the way, making sure she got safely inside. Once beyond her door, she turned and looked at him dripping buckets off his clothes on to her wood floor.

  “Why’d you follow me in? Look at you, you’re soaked.”

  “About as much as you?”

  She looked down at herself, almost tempted to laugh, except the storm was a ready reminder of her lost cabin.

  “Well, you’re going to have to stay a while and get into some dry clothes,” she said as she ushered Ty toward the kitchen. She moved off expecting him to follow.

  Just as they reached the kitchen door, just before the light went on, she felt Ty’s hands on her shoulders. The warmth from them was as electrifying as the next bolt of lightning that brightened the kitchen into a gauzy looking palate of gray. In the dark, with her back to him, a sexual shudder raced up her spine, dispelling for an instant the chill of her wet clothes. Without a light to see by, just the feel of his hands, he began to strip her down, pulling away her soggy sweater and letting it drop to the linoleum. He pushed her jeans to her knees and she shook them off. And then, he peeled the wet layers of his own clothes away, while Dusty turned around and watched in the gray/black darkness that settled in around their bodies. One minute she could hardly see him, the next, his muscled flesh was illuminated by a flash of light.