by Loki Renard
Harris chuckled as Tom’s brows rose.
“We’ll see about that, little lady,” he drawled. “Why don’t you take your horse there out to the corral?”
“If you like,” Fiona said. “But this old lady isn’t going to be up to much I wouldn’t think. She’s twenty if she’s a day. More suited to Harris.”
It was Harris’s turn to give her a look. “Now that’s enough out of you.”
“I’ve seen you ride,” Fiona grinned, sweeping her hair back into a ponytail and securing it with an elastic band. “‘Holding on’ is probably a better description.”
“Enough about Harris,” Tom said, “Let’s see what you’ve got, smart mouth.”
Fiona looped the horse’s reins around to drop below her chin and took them in hand. “Come on girl,” she said, giving a light tug.
The horse moved off with Fiona as if she’d known her all her life. She was a well-trained mare, well cued into her ground commands. Fiona was pretty sure she could have parked the horse anywhere and come back to her an hour later to find her still standing there.
She led the horse to the corral, mounted without the aid of a block and put the mare through her paces. It wasn’t difficult. The mare walked on with a slight squeeze, trotted with a little more pressure and rolled into a canter when Fiona put her leg back.
“I’d ask her to jump,” Fiona said, drawing the horse up next to Tom and Harris who were leaning against the corral side by side, “but I doubt she’d clear the corral.”
“Alright, showoff, you can ride,” Tom admitted. “Keep up the sass and we’ll see how well you do with a plug in that butt of yours.”
Fiona grinned and gave her mount’s shoulder a rub. “Maybe Harris should work in the kitchen and I’ll rope you some steers.”
“My rope work is impeccable, I assure you,” Harris said, smiling. “Maybe I’ll show you later.”
“Right now, we have work to do,” Tom cut in. “Fiona, you can ride out with us. We’ve got a herd of strays out on the far ridge. I want to get them in before sunset.”
The rest of the day was comprised of work. Work, work and more work. Fiona had always loved riding, but eight hours in the saddle was more than even her longest pony club treks. Still, it was worth it to spend time with Harris and Tom. Harris had taken the mare she’d tacked up and Fiona was riding a more spirited gelding with a bit of speed on him. Tom rode a stallion, of course, Fiona wouldn’t have expected anything else from him.
He also did most of the work, largely using Harris and Fiona as living blocks to herd the stray cattle around back toward the ranch. It was a whole lot of riding and sitting, riding and sitting, all performed under the glare of a sun that seemed to burn hotter in Texas than anywhere else on earth.
* * *
After a long day, Fiona fell into bed exhausted and woke the next morning before the sun rose. She was not pleased to have woken so early, nor had she done so voluntarily. There was a rumbling and a tossing and a deep vibration that even she could not ignore. She opened her eyes to realize that Tom was shaking her awake. His eyes were gleaming especially blue in the faint stream of light coming from the hall.
“Come on, sleepyhead,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “There’s work to do.”
“Later,” Fiona grumbled. “It’s too early.”
“It’s 5 o’clock,” Tom said. “This is when the work day starts. We need to ride out, get the cattle in for drenching.”
“Later,” Fiona said, squeezing her eyes shut. It was dark and the room was warm and she knew if Tom would just leave her alone for a second she would be asleep almost as quickly.
Next thing she knew, the covers were being yanked back and a hard hand was landing square across her ass. It was no way to rouse a lady and Fiona objected most vociferously to the intrusion.
“I haven’t got time to argue, Fiona. Git up. Now.”
He’d gone seriously country, which meant he was seriously serious. Ordinarily, Fiona might have heeded the warning in his growling tone, but she was too tired to have common sense, or self-preservation for that matter.
“Go away, Tom!”
His palm landed on her bottom again, hard enough to shock adrenaline through her system. Half-asleep, half-enraged, she kicked out at him. It proved not to be a positive move at all. What had been a stern, but relatively gentle slap turned into a very hard, very fast thrashing in which Tom’s palm landed across her cheeks more times than she could count in the course of a few seconds. The sudden blistering pain was added to when he yanked her panties down, leaving her bottom completely defenseless against his palm.
“You don’t ever kick me. Ever,” he growled, his words staccato through the slaps.
“You’re hitting me,” she screeched in response. “If you can hit me, I can kick you.”
From cozy sleep nest, to battle royale, the sheets and covers on the bed soon hit the floor as Fiona flailed under Tom’s hand.
“I’m spanking you,” he said. “Because you’re a disobedient little girl who didn’t get up when she was told to. That does not give you the right to retaliate. I’m in charge here, missy.”
The fact that Fiona was pinned on her tummy, her bare round bottom bearing the brunt of his ire was proof of that, but Fiona wasn’t ready to accept defeat just yet. Sleep was sacred, and Tom needed to learn to respect her rest. The spanking was probably supposed to make her feel sorry, but she didn’t feel sorry, not even a little bit. She was thoroughly outraged and running on morning anger. Instead of heeding his warning, she did her best to kick him again. It was a useless motion, for she was partially hobbled by her panties and Tom had moved out of the range of her legs anyway.
“Fiona, I’m warning you,” Tom growled, one hand securely locked on the back of her neck, the other catching her cheeks with stinging swats. “I’m not in the mood this morning. You’re close to getting your tail tanned like never before.”
Fiona paid him no mind. As long as he was spanking, she was going to be fighting. When kicking failed to dislodge her spanker, she decided to try biting instead. Tom had partially knelt on the bed, putting his jean clad thigh near her mouth. She latched on like a blonde pit bull, once again achieving very little because his leg was far too broad for her jaws, and because his hard muscle under thick denim resisted her teeth quite well. Still, she must have done some amount of damage, because he growled and bought his palm down not across her bottom, but across the back of her bare thigh. Fiona screeched like a banshee and flailed furiously, but it was too late, now she was earning slaps across both her thighs.
“You want to bite me, brat?” Tom moved his target yet again, somehow finding an even more diabolically sensitive spot, this time on her inner thigh. Spanking there required quite a bit of positioning, his strong arm spreading her legs against her will while his fingers slapped the soft skin.
“Stop it, Tom! Stop it this instant!” Fiona screeched the order and found it disregarded. He did not stop, he wrapped her up in a body lock that made it almost impossible to move, one arm wrapped around her hip and thigh, the other hand free to slap every inch of her tender skin.
“All you had to do was get up,” Tom said, lecturing her as she squirmed in one of the most undignified, exposed positions she’d ever found herself in. There wasn’t a bit of her body he couldn’t see, from the puffy lips of her pussy to the winking bud of her bottom. “It was simple. But you had to be a little brat, didn’t you?”
“It’s too early.”
“It’s as early as it needs to be.” Tom held her in place, but stopped spanking for a moment. “This is a working ranch, Fiona. You have to work. Everybody does.”
“How am I supposed to ride with my thighs all sore?”
“You should have thought of that before you mouthed off,” Tom replied without any sympathy at all. He sat down on the bed properly and pulled her across his thighs. The position was a little more comfortable, but Fiona kn
ew it wouldn’t be for long.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a reason to get up tomorrow,” he said grimly, slapping her bottom.
It was worse, somehow, being spanked over his thighs. There was less room for wriggling and every smack landed precisely where he intended it to. Fiona was now fully awake and coming to terms with the idea that she’d not handled things terribly well. She should have agreed to get up, then gone back to bed. That would have been a better plan. Maybe she’d try that tomorrow.
While she schemed, Tom’s palm was landing a steady stream of spanks, each of them intensifying the heat and the sting in her already heated flesh.
“I’m going to spank you until you’re sorry,” he said. “And I can tell you’re not.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Fiona protested.
“You don’t have to.”
Apparently he’d added mind reading to his repertoire. Fiona snorted and set her jaw. She would not give in. She would resist him as long as she had the strength to do so.
“Quit fighting me, brat,” Tom said. “All you have to do is say you’re sorry and the spanking ends.”
“Sorry,” Fiona hissed.
“And mean it,” Tom added.
“You don’t know what I mean. You don’t know I don’t mean it!” It was easier to argue than it was to find a modicum of sincerity in her apology.
“You’re tense. Every part of your body is resisting me. That’s not going to work,” Tom said. “One, it will make your ass way more sore than it needs to be, two, it tells me you haven’t learned your lesson.”
He continued spanking her without any kind of mercy, dashing her hopes for leniency. As he spanked on, frustration soon started to get the better of Fiona. Her bottom was very sore, and Tom’s work callused palm wasn’t showing any signs of weakening. The magnitude of the whole affair was growing by the moment, an exponentially increasing soreness which seemed to double with every slap.
“Okay!” She cried out. “Okay! I’m sorry!”
“No you’re not,” he said. “You just want me to stop spanking you.”
“Of course I want you to stop spanking me!”
“But that’s not the point of this. You’re being spanked because you disobeyed me. You have responsibilities here, Fiona. You have a job to do. And I shouldn’t have to drag your hide out of bed every morning and tan your hide until you’re too sore to argue.” His hand clapped against her blazing cheeks on every second syllable.
“I can’t think if you keep spanking me!” Fiona squealed, kicking her heels.
“There’s nothing to think about,” Tom replied. “There’s just you learning a lesson, accepting your punishment and not repeating the behavior. Now, are you ready to get up and do your job?”
“Yes!” That she could truthfully answer. There was no way she was going to get back to sleep now, not on a bottom as hot on the griddle upon which waffles were made.
“Good.” Tom gave her one last hearty slap and let her up. She didn’t so much rise off his lap as bound up, her hands clutching at her flaming cheeks. They burned. Oh they burned. All the rubbing in the world didn’t help, nor did the little dance she did on the spot, which only succeeded in pressing her sore thighs together in a way that did not help. Friction was not her friend.
Never in all her days had Fiona imagined her bottom could feel so very hot, so very swollen and sore. He’d spanked her to the point where it barely felt like part of her body anymore. It was less her bottom and more a roiling hot ball of fire where her bottom should be. Somehow, Tom had turned her own backside against her, and there was nothing she could do, not rubbing or dancing that could stop the sensation.
Tom sat on the bed, watching the aftermath. She thought he looked a little pleased with himself. It was just like him, not to seem guilty in the slightest. He was always so stern and stoic. It was his expression that made tears rise to her eyes, not the pain of the discipline, but his apparent disregard for her discomfort was what really hurt her feelings.
“Why are you so mean?” She sniffed the question through her tears.
“Mean would be letting you get away with your old habits,” Tom said. “Mean would be allowing you to run riot here the same way you’ve done everywhere else in your life. You need order, Fiona. Structure. Sometimes that means you’ll earn yourself a spanking.”
She scowled at him. “It’s not fair.”
“It’s very fair,” he said, standing up and drawing her into a hug. In spite of the fact she was angry at him, it was still comforting to be held. He rubbed her back and dried her tears and kissed her on the nose very affectionately for a man who had just spanked her soundly. “You’re right about one thing,” he drawled, tenderly passing his hand over her flaming cheeks. “It’s not going to be pleasant working on this butt of yours. I hope this is the last time I have to spank you like that Fiona.”
“I hope so too,” Fiona agreed.
“All you have to do is be a good girl and get up for work in the morning without a fuss,” he said, dropping a kiss on her pouting lips. “I don’t ask for much.”
“Just total obedience.”
He smiled down at her and brushed a few wisps of her hair out of her eyes. “Just total obedience,” he agreed without any irony.
“I wasn’t exactly raised to be obedient,” Fiona reminded him.
“You weren’t raised to be obedient, or to work or to make your own way in the world, but you’re going to do all of that and more,” Tom said, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re my girl.”
Fiona did not know how she could feel so loved standing red bottomed with the man who had just spent what seemed like an eternity slapping her cheeks, but she did. She felt loved and safe and more cared for than ever.
“Could I maybe go back to bed?” She asked the question while nuzzling her face against his neck. “I’m not going to be able to ride like this.”
“Not a chance, missy,” Tom drawled. “You’ll be working a full day. But you can go to bed early tonight to make up for any sleep you missed, how’s that for a deal?”
A little whine escaped Fiona, but was cut off sharply when Tom patted her cheeks in warning. “Let’s not get ornery now,” he suggested gently. “Wouldn’t want to have to take my belt off.”
“You wouldn’t.” She looked up at him, wide eyed at the idea he’d even consider spanking her again.
“I would if you misbehaved,” he said, running his fingertips gently over her bottom. “But you won’t be needing that kind of treatment, will you, Fiona?”
“No sir,” she agreed.
“Good.” He kissed her again and rubbed her back. “Can I trust you to get ready for work now?”
Fiona nodded. The way her bottom felt, he could trust her to the end of the world and back.
Chapter Fifteen
Fiona eventually managed to adjust to a world of waking up before the cock crowed and going to sleep around sundown. With Tom’s strict discipline keeping her on the straight, and Harris’s quiet, nurturing dominance keeping her on the narrow, a whole new Fiona was starting to emerge. Sometimes she barely recognized herself without her designer clothing and jewelry. Gingham shirts and jeans were the order of business most days, and boots you could ride in, no heels.
Coming in from a hard day’s work, Fiona had gratefully eaten Old Pete’s stew for dinner, grabbed a shower and was napping in the bedroom she, Tom and Harris were sharing. She didn’t have a room of her own, she barely had anything of her own anymore, just a few suitcases and hardly any money at all.
She could never have imagined living with so little even a few weeks earlier, but circumstances had changed and to her surprise, she had changed with them. The bed smelled of Harris and Tom, comforting man scents which helped lull her into a nice peaceful nap.
Fiona could possibly have slept all night long, but for being woken by the touch of soft hemp sli
ding about her wrists. Her eyes fluttered open to see Harris next to her, quite naked in the half light of early evening.
“Shh,” he said before she could ask any questions. Whilst she laid still, he wound the rope deftly around her wrists, then took two long ends and wrapped them around between her thighs. She was wearing panties, but nothing else. The hemp was not as rough as she would have thought it would be, instead it was quite soft as it slid against her skin, binding her tight.
“Stand up,” Harris ordered softly.
She stood and he laid them across her pussy lips, running both strands up her body and then around her waist, underneath her arms so as to make a sort of harness which confined her movements. Every slight motion produced a rubbing against her panty-covered lips.
Harris had always been a dark horse, full of surprises, like the first day he’d spanked her. It had seemed to come out of nowhere, just as this had.
“What’s this for?”
“Control,” Harris rumbled the word in husky, desirous tones, pressing his lips to her neck. “This is all about control, Fiona. Lay back down.”
She obeyed him, curious to see what he would do next. What he did next was equally simple and just as devastatingly effective. He bound her ankles, not so tight she felt a panic at the touch of the rope, but tight enough that she knew taking normal steps would be impossible.
He ran his hand up the bare skin of the back of her thighs, and patted her bottom lightly. “You look good in rope.”
“Does Tom know you’re doing this?”
There was a pause. “I don’t need Tom’s permission to take you, do I?”
“No,” Fiona squeaked. Sometimes she forgot how intensely masterful Harris could be. Tom tended to be the more obviously dominant figure, but Harris, he was the one you had to watch. He was the one stroking her pussy through her panties with short teasing strokes that deliberately didn’t quite make it all the way to her clit.
“Tom is out breaking in a filly,” he said, running his thumb underneath her nipple. “I thought I might do the same in here.”