Walnut Bottom Farm, Books 1 & 2

by Virginia Rue

  "A little humility would do you good. You think you can do or not do whatever you like; you never pay any mind to me or anyone else." It was spoken firmly as the plank of wood punctuated the statement with the first hard smack ever to fall on Calla's lily-white ass.

  She bucked once and screamed, and then settled into whining excuses as to how she didn't mean to be that way and promised to listen the next time he asked her to come straight home. The second smack fell on the opposite cheek and elicited the same routine from Calla. Without speaking, Bruce went back and forth from cheek to cheek. Calla went from thrashing and cursing, to whining between screams, to finally laying mostly still and apologizing frantically into the bedspread.

  Bruce let go of her wrist and grabbed the back of her panties, bunching and pulling them up between her cheeks and pressing his forearm down upon her back, the better to see the canvas he intended to paint entirely red. "And this isn't just for thinking drinking and driving laws apply to everyone but you!" With that he unleashed a barrage of smacks down lower, where her cheeks met her thighs. Calla screamed and convulsed against him.

  "This is also for all the moping and sulking you do. You act as if you are the only one whose life isn't going exactly as planned! You don't even paint anymore! You avoid doing anything around this house! You've pity partied yourself into a rut of non-productivity and you blame everyone but yourself!" Each statement was emphasized with a particularly hard swat while Bruce kept a steady rhythm of two beats per second.

  Calla was sobbing and crying out loud as he continued to spank as if he were a machine. As the glaring truth of his words settled in her heart, she began to really cry. The harder she cried, the less she kicked and thrashed. After a few minutes, she lay motionless except for the springing and bouncing recoil of her fleshy and puffy red butt, and the gentle shaking of her crying.

  Slowly and gradually Bruce lessened his grip, then his rhythm. Each smack was still packed with force, however, the last nearly launching her across the bed. Resting his heavy hand on Calla's searing-hot scarlet bottom, he spoke softly, "You probably think I'm a brute; but you gave me no choice and this will be over with soon. As you undoubtedly will spend the next several days contemplating what just happened, know, for better or worse, that this is as bad as it will ever get."

  A long pause gave both of them a chance to consider all the events that led to this place.

  “As your husband, I will do whatever is necessary to protect you and maintain stability in our marriage. This isn't easy for me, but I'll do it as often as you need it. Along those lines, I will not tolerate disobedience. The next time I tell you to bend over, I expect polite cooperation. You punched me, broke a window and I had to wrestle you over my knee! You cursed me, and I am thoroughly sick of the way you speak to me at times!"

  She didn't like the emotional tone that his thus far controlled composure had taken. Without realizing, she had cupped each cheek with her freed hands and was fervently wishing she had kept the tale of Ben, Brenda and that damn vase between she and Lexi.

  "Move your hands!" Slowly, she pulled her arms back towards her body. Satisfied with her obedience, he commenced spanking her with his bare hand, as hard and as rapidly as he could. Once again, she began to clench and buck against him, just a little.

  This time he paused. "Hold still and don't make me hold you still or I will pick that paddle back up! This is for fighting the discipline you had coming in the first place!"

  Calla took a few long deep breaths as he gave her another moment to settle herself. Bruce couldn't believe his ears when she spoke into the bed, "Yes, sir, I'm sorry."

  "Say that again!" he barked.

  She lifted her head and spoke as clearly as she could, "Yes, sir. I'm so sorry. I'll hold still."

  Immediately he put her promise to the test and resumed spanking. She cried, but kept her word in keeping her tortured bottom high on his lap through each and every leather-palmed slap, clenching the bedspread with both fists.

  Tired, and certain that Calla had been properly punished, Bruce delivered a few more especially hard slaps before he stopped. He sat her up and held her to his chest. He soothed her and stroked her sticky hair away from her teary and snotty face. She welled up with fresh sobs and apologies, inelegantly blowing her nose in the towel her hair had been wrapped in. He shushed her and held her tight.

  "I forgive you, baby. Everything's okay." As he held her he let out his own cleansing sigh, as if he just put down a burden; and he realized how true it was. He had been so frustrated and even resentful with her and her worsening attitude for so long. He realized that he had been avoiding her and neglecting their marriage. Now, holding her in his lap as she held him just as tightly, there was no more bitterness and anger or arrogance and spite between them.

  "Bruce, I love you," she professed into his chest.

  He lifted her face and smiled warmly, tears filling his own eyes, and kissed her deeply, drinking her in. Her salty lips met his eagerly. Instantly, the distance closed, a surge of electricity touched off another fire. She felt him harden under her as his hands explored her body in frantic fits, one moment gently tracing a nipple with a fingertip and his other hand running through her hair; the next, claiming handfuls of breast and ass. And the heat! Her bottom glowed like a furnace. It radiated through his jeans where his cock strained against the zipper like a heat seeking missile. She felt the fire of his kiss course through her as the inferno beneath her raged upwards. They ached for one another as if the last few months and the last half hour - all the hurt, anger and pain had never even happened.

  Within seconds there was no clothing between them. Calla and Bruce made love hungrily, as if they had just been reunited after being separated by miles and years. Afterwards, they lay entwined, still holding tightly to one another, more in love than ever.

  Lexi awoke with a head full of ache and worry. She hoped her friend had made it home okay. They were having so much fun and then left so suddenly that she didn’t even stop to wonder if Calla should drive. She had been trying to text and call her all morning with no response. It was now nearly noon and worry was turning to panic. There was no answer from the house phone, or Bruce’s cell. In desperation she called Clayton to see if he was maybe at Walnut Bottom Farm helping Bruce with some task. The two men had teamed up quite often lately to get things accomplished there and at Clayton’s new place over the ridge.

  "Hello, Lexi." He sounded so cold; it was not his usual warm voice when he answered her call.

  "Ah, hi, I hope you’re not busy. I was wondering if you might know…" She was searching for words to ask what she needed to know without reveling her and Calla’s stupidity the evening before. "Are you going out to Walnut Bottom Farm today? I’ve been trying to call Calla but can’t get through."

  "You should meet me there. I’ll be waiting in the drive. I can’t give news like this over the phone." With that he hung up. Lexi’s mouth went dry and her heart started pounding. She gathered her purse and keys in an almost zombie-like daze and left for the farm.

  Clayton knew full well what was going on with Calla. He and Bruce had spoken that morning in the shop. They had planned on finishing the barstools that day and instead he had found Bruce sanding a newly made paddle.

  Lexi pulled up to the house and her heart nearly stopped when she saw the somber look on Clayton’s face. She began walking to the steps, but she broke out into a run when she caught sight of Calla’s car, with mud up to the passenger door and a cracked headlamp.

  "Stop! You best not go in there yet. Walk with me to the shop. We’ll talk there, out of the cold."

  She began running in the other direction, following after his long strides. "What happened? Is she ok? Oh my God, I am so stupid! It’s all my fault! She said there would be storms and she was supposed go, but it was too late and we were just waiting out the storm and got carried away! WHAT HAPPENED?" Lexi was trembling and screaming as tears poured from her eyes. She was sure her best friend was kille
d or in a coma or something and no one was answering her questions.

  Clayton led the frantic woman to a long row of unfinished wooden barstools, ironically, and sat her down on one directly across from him. "I have bad news Lex… Calla… will never… be able to…" He tortured her slowly with not knowing, "drive that car again. The axle is broken and the tranny is busted."

  Lexi caught her breath, stared dumbly at him for a moment and then shouted, "Fuck the damn car! What about her?"

  "Well," he said, keeping up his somber act, "I’m afraid she has an extremely sore ass."

  As this last bit sank in, Lexi began stammering for words to pose an intelligent response of some kind, while wondering why she could not just go see Calla if she weren’t dead or in the hospital.

  Clayton continued, "Lexi, in the last few months I’ve become quite attached to you. In fact, you are the first woman I’ve ever thought of taking home to meet my family. I was hoping that you’d like to do that around the holidays."

  Lexi still stared dumbly. What in the hell is he talking about Christmas for at a time like this? I just want to see Calla now! she thought. Still in shock, she sat quietly while he rambled on.

  "Sure, you had less distance to drive, but either of you could have been killed last night." His voice was going from somber to something she’d never yet heard from him. He sounded pissed, more than that, disappointed too. "Bruce is nearly as angry with you as he is with her for letting your friend, his wife, drive like that."

  Those last words were like a punch in the gut. She already felt so guilty and ashamed. Hearing it out load made her want to crawl in a hole someplace and never come out.

  Clayton went on, while she sat there all slumped with her head down. She couldn’t look him in the eye. "Our relationship is young and I would prefer not to be crossing this bridge so soon, but here we are. Calla has met with the consequences of last night and I think it’s only right that you do, too."

  As the statement sank in, she seemed as if she didn’t hear him. Then she slowly peered up at him through her glossy black hair. Her dark, sad eyes almost broke his will punish her.

  He sighed, then tightened his jaw, squared his shoulders as he stood, and then raised his voice clearly, "Alexis Green, turn around and bend over that stool!"

  Without even thinking about it, she moved when he spoke. She could hardly believe what was happening, but was too ashamed to argue. He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her higher as she grabbed the legs of the stool to keep her balance. She felt herself quivering with fear when she heard his belt unbuckle and slide out. A shriek escaped when she felt her skirt come up and she could feel her face go crimson when he yanked down her tights. Kindly, he left her panties, not that the sheer satin could provide any comfort, except for the tiniest shred of dignity that she had left at this moment.

  Putting one heavy boot on the rail of the stool, he said all he felt necessary, "I expect you to hold still. This is going to hurt me more than it will you."

  Lexi actually believed him. He seemed so hurt and sorry. She began to cry before the first swat fell.

  By evening, Calla and Lexi were both exhausted from their day of tears and reckoning and fell asleep curled up together on the couch. They had helped with supper and spent the evening watching an old movie and being doted upon by the sympathetic and understanding Mrs. Cowen. Their men finished those stools that neither would be in any hurry to sit upon. Bottoms were sore, but hearts were thankful, for each other and the men that loved them.

  Thin Ice

  Chapter 1

  No one was more surprised than Calla when Clayton announced at Thanksgiving Dinner that he and Alexis were engaged. They had only been dating since July. No one was less surprised than her husband, Bruce. Since Lexi was his wife’s best friend, he knew she was difficult, choosy and high maintenance, with even higher standards. But, he also knew that his new friend and business partner was determined to have and hold Alexis Green at any cost.

  And cost it would, more than money. Bruce feared his friend might lose his sanity and go grey at the age of thirty by the time this was all done. The couple agreed that they both wanted a small wedding and a big honeymoon. Even so, the bride-to-be was nearly making herself crazy and the groom in turn, with details and plans. What were they thinking trying to plan a New Year’s wedding? He knew what they were thinking. It was Clayton’s old fashioned Mennonite upbringing. Delaying the wedding meant delaying the wedding night and neither could hold out much longer. It would only be natural to give in, but Clayton wanted the one and only time he would wed to be one hundred percent perfect.

  Lexi, well, she kind of understood about waiting. She went to Sunday school and all, and found the notion very romantic, but could not quite comprehend that a man would put HER off and make HER wait. What was the world coming to? Growing more sexually frustrated each passing day, she decided he would give in or suffer. Always a lady, she would be subtle, but she would make him burn for her as badly as she did for him. She also couldn’t wait to be done with this wedding. The planning of it practically became a full time job, falling mainly upon Lexi and Calla, since the only thing Clayton specifically wanted was that she attend.

  All his energy was spent settling in and readying Green Acres, the old homestead he bought around the time Alexis Green went from being his real estate agent to his fiancée. He named this self-sustaining paradise for her. It was fitting. There was never a more ‘green’ farm ever built. The old windmill was restored and updated, generating alternative energy even better than when it was new, before such terms existed. Clayton McBride spent his hours setting seemingly random posts and building solar stations for his portable electric fencing, building nursery coops for spring peeps, mowing and spreading manure and compost trucked in from Walnut Bottom Farm. He and Bruce Cowen pooled resources and manpower to get both homesteads running at optimum efficiency.

  While Lexi looked at bridal catalogues at night before bed in her little apartment in town, Clayton combed through seed catalogues from his big four-poster bed. He stayed in the stone house nestled into the mountainside at Green Acres. Trying not to count down the days until she would join him, he concentrated instead on winter wheat and clover. There was just so much to do to get ready for spring crops and livestock. He had decisions to make and plans to follow if it would be a productive first year.

  Sometimes the enormity of it all was overwhelming. Half a year before, he’d been an unattached agriculture engineer, traveling from farm to farm up and down the Eastern U.S. helping to make other farms work and succeed. Now he was starting his own. Having not done any real farming since he left his parents’ place in Pennsylvania to go to college, he wondered if he had what it takes. And soon he would be a husband to the most clever, and gorgeous, woman he’d ever met. Sleep overtook him as he wondered if he was dreaming.

  * * *

  “Would you like to ride into town with me, Calla? We could have lunch at the Brass Lantern.” Bruce came up behind her in her studio, tugging and twirling her long spiraling ponytail.

  Spinning and tapping a dot of white paint on the tip of his nose with laser precision, “No, but how about you and Clayton meet Lexi and me there for supper? I want to finish this painting for the silent auction next weekend and it needs time to cure before you so kindly frame it… and, we will be going out there this afternoon, for a private party, of sorts.”

  “Private party you say? And what sort of private party is taking place at the Brass Lantern Inn this afternoon?” he asked with raised eyebrow and exaggerated suspicion.

  “A scandalous one!” she replied, setting down her palate and brush and turning to spread both palms across his chest, almost kneading like cat, while he hugged her to him. “It’s kind of like a Tupperware party, but with lingerie instead of lunch boxes. The best part is, Lexi thinks it’s going to be a sales party for candles and scented wax burners, stuff like that. She would not budge in her decision to not have a bachelorette party so I secretl
y invited some of our girlfriends to come for a surprise lingerie party. If you and Clayton come afterwards the girls could meet him, and, I promise to buy something.” Calla winked up at him.

  “Well, you devilish little imp.” In one quick motion he spun her around and swatted her bottom playfully. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * *

  Clayton was waking up slowly, dreaming of Lexi. He could almost feel her warmth and smell her hair as his morning wood pressed against the firmness of her rear. He dreamed she lay cupped by his body in their bed. He could almost feel the tickle of long wisps of hair in his two day unshaven stubble and hear her faintly moan when he squeezed her breast… almost feel her breathing, harder and faster in his arms…

  “MY GOD! LEXI! What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast. I brought muffins and coffee, but you just looked so exquisitely peaceful and warm and comfortable, smiling sweetly in your sleep, I couldn’t resist crawling in and cuddling.”

  She lay looking up at him in her plush white sweater dress and a sea of covers, seeming so innocent, pretending not to notice the half angry and half embarrassed expression on the hard-on wielding man standing there in black boxer shorts. Unable to suppress the beaming wide smile that began to spread across her face, she gave herself away. Clayton narrowed his eyes at her with his fists on his hips for a second, then bent down and scooped her up. He carried her out to the sofa in the other room, mumbling something about an evil little temptress and, just a little roughly, dumped her there and went back to the bedroom closing the door behind him. Pleased with herself, if not thoroughly satisfied, Alexis went about pouring coffee while he dressed.

  * * *