"Good. Panties next."
Down they came, to join the jeans at mid thigh. Carla felt childish and stupid. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment at her predicament. She heard him walk up behind her, and felt his hand on the small of her back.
"Over you go. Grasp the edge of the desk, and stick that bottom out."
Oh but this is hateful. Just let me get it over with quickly. Carla got herself into position and waited in an agony of embarrassment and expectation.
The seconds ticked by slowly. In actuality, Scott was admiring the view of that pale round full bottom beaming at him over his writing desk. His mouth curled into a faint smile but he kept his voice cool and unemotive. His lady had to learn her lesson.
When his hand eventually descended, Carla jumped and yelped. The spank was a hard one and the sound of his hand on her exposed flesh rang out like a pistol shot in the quietness of the room. Again and again his palm descended, impacting on her tender bottom, beating out a rhythmic tattoo. Carla began to wriggle and squirm, kicking her legs, swaying her hips, clenching her buttocks in a vain attempt to dissipate the sting. Who would have thought a hand spanking could hurt so much? Fast and furious came the spanks, one after another with no respite. Carla yowled and howled. She yelped and shrieked.
"Too hard! Too hard! Ow! OWW! No more - please!"
Scott ignored her anguished pleas and continued peppering her bottom. He knew full well that he wasn't spanking her too hard - just enough to make an impact. Her rump had quickly turned from pink to pale red and was now morphing into a different and darker hue. In between spanking her wobbling buttocks he delivered a few swift crisp spanks to her thighs. She didn't like that at all, and squealed loudly.
"Stop! I don't like it! Stop!" she demanded. The sting of the spanking enveloped her. Her poor bottom felt monstrously swollen and sore. It throbbed and it burned beneath the onslaught.
But Scott continued until she eventually stopped begging him to stop and lay limply over the desk crying. He surveyed the damage. Her bottom was a most pleasing shade of red, and her thighs were pink. He felt he had got his point across very well. His hands cupped her buttocks and then began to gently stroke.
"It's all over now, babe. All done with."
Carla eased herself upright and fell into his arms. "I... I'm sorry," she cried. "I... I just couldn't help myself. That... that tart was all over you and... and I was jealous."
"That silly tart is all over any man who'll let her. That's what she's like."
"But - you and her? Did you ever...?" She couldn't quite get the words out.
"Hell no. She came after me a couple years back when I took part in the rodeo. I was her target and she never gave up on me. But I never even bought her a drink, let alone anything else. She's not my type, Carla - you are my type. You're my woman. Now come here." He tenderly kissed her forehead then produced a big handkerchief and began wiping her tear-stained face. "Your mascara's run. You look like a panda."
For some reason, that remark induced a fresh supply of tears. Scott scooped her up in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom and deposited her on the bed. They lay together. With his right hand gently massaging her red bottom.
"I - thought you didn't like me any more," she whispered.
"What? Don't be silly, Carla. I needed to show you that sort of behaviour is unbecoming. So you've had your bottom warmed. A little hand spanking never killed anyone. You'll be a little tender when we go riding in the morning but it will soon pass."
"Riding?! Scott! How can I go riding when my poor butt is on fire!"
Scott chuckled. "You'll manage, my love, believe me."
Carla sighed. Her bottom throbbed. "You spanked harder than you usually do," she said. "Much harder."
"I spanked just a little harder. But that wasn't a good girl spanking, that was a punishment spanking to drive the point home. But - all spankings from me will end with hugs and kisses and forgiveness." He smoothed her hair and then kissed her lips. A gentle kiss. As her lips opened beneath his own and her body responded, he kissed her harder.
"I'm sorry, Scott."
"I know, hon. It's over and done with now."
"Scott?"
"Yes, darlin'?"
"We missed the bareback bronc riding. I was so looking forward to that."
Scott laughed. "There'll be other times. I promise."
Carla dried her eyes and smiled. "And I promise not to go throwing drinks and fighting with buckle bunnies. But you know what?"
"What?"
"It was so satisfying tipping that drink over her stupid head!"
"Carla Odell. Do you want another spanking?" he said in a tone of mock severity.
"If it's a good girl spanking with your usual attentive aftercare - yes - bring it on!"
He did exactly that.
---oOo---
True to his word, Scott took Carla out riding again the next morning. She protested loudly that Splash was bumping her up and down in the saddle, making her sore bottom much worse. For some reason Scott found this amusing, and it wasn't long before they were both laughing.
Scott reigned in his stallion and leaned over to kiss her. "I have some work to do when we get back. What are you going to do with yourself?"
"I promised your pa I'd make a start on the new website."
"Great. He'll really appreciate that."
"I'm looking forward to it. I'm itching to get started."
"Race you back then!" He grinned at her and urged his powerful horse forward. Their mounts galloped neck and neck. Scott held back a little and let her win, noting with satisfaction that had she a swifter horse, she would have won the race. "Proper little horsewoman you are, Carla," he said in approval.
"I have the best teacher," she gasped, smiling in pleasure.
On arriving at the stables they dismounted. "I'll see to the horses. You go get changed then make a start on your website. Good luck." He kissed her and smiled at her retreating figure. She sure did look sexy as hell in those tight fitting riding breeches.
---oOo---
Carla's meeting with Isaac went well. They discussed what he wanted to achieve with the site and Carla sounded him out on some of her ideas. Isaac was both enthusiastic and impressed. For the next few days Carla worked diligently on designing and building a totally new site and putting the infrastructure in place to deal with secure online transactions. Up until now, potential customers placed their bookings by telephone - but soon they would be able to do it online.
It was an eye opener and an education for Isaac. He listened to Carla talk about cascading style sheets, Flash, Ajax, SQL databases and goodness knows what else. At the end of the week he and Carla went round the ranch taking photographs of the main house, the guest cabins and their interiors, stables, paddock, steers and goats, the communal dining area, cook out area and chuck wagon, the creek, hayrides - anything and everything of interest. They took pictures of all the ranch hands, the housekeeping staff and the kitchen staff, and Isaac got Connor to take a family picture too. They congregated by the main door - Isaac and Brenda, Scott and Rose, and Scott and Carla, all smiling and welcoming.
Carla expertly positioned the photographs on the new site and put in the navigation so that people could browse through certain areas of the site. She even included Hannah's sample menus and illustrated them with photographs of the mouth-watering selection of dishes. Rose's art studio got a big plug too and Carla photographed all the paintings currently for sale. She worked like a demon, this was her biggest challenge yet and she felt real good at mastering it.
Two weeks later, when everything had been tried and tested, the new site was launched with a mass of publicity. The Armstrong ranch was given a mention in the local newspapers and on local radio stations, and following a surprise phone call, a journalist from a tv station arrived to do an interview.
Bookings went through the roof. Isaac stared at the computer screen in amazement. "My god, Brenda - we have bookings for the next two yea
rs! Amazing! The deposits have all gone through too - I checked the bank statements."
"And I've sold five huge oils on canvas too!" said a delighted Rose. "And I have commissions for more. I'm going to be busy, but I love it! Thanks, Carla. You're a star."
"Thanks." Carla smiled happily. "I enjoyed the project and I'm so relieved it all came together so well. Business is booming, huh?"
"It sure is," said Isaac. "We were doing ok before but this is staggering! I think this calls for an extra special celebratory champagne dinner. I'll go have a word with Hannah. We'll arrange something for the weekend - get everyone together - ranch hands and kitchen and housekeeping staff too. We'll have a real celebration."
"I'm proud of you, Carla." Scott enfolded her in his arms. "I watched you work many times. You were so engrossed you weren't aware I was there."
"Oh I'm sorry Scott. I didn't mean to neglect you. The past couple of weeks have been a bit intensive."
"You didn't neglect me, and I don't mind at all. It's good to see you focussed and happy doing something that gives you a buzz. I was wondering if maybe you'd be interested in helping me with one of my projects?"
"Sure. What sort of project?"
"I've been working with a Charity to set up life-changing projects in Africa. Stuff like building wells, putting in taps and pumps in areas of the community, and providing safe drinking water."
"Scott - I had no idea you were involved with anything like that. Sure, I'd be glad to help in whatever way I can."
"You'd be surprised how hard life is for some of these people. I flew out there last year. Hundreds of people including small children have to walk miles to the river carrying a jerry can on their head. It's no easy life."
"I can only imagine how tough it must be. So how can I help?"
"I'd like you to build us a website. We have one already but it's pretty basic - and with your proven skills, I'm convinced you can produce something fantastic. I've put in a couple of million dollars of my own money, but the website will explain clearly what we're trying to do, and ask for donations to help with various projects. We'll post plenty of pictures so folks can get an idea where their money will go to."
"I'd love to tackle that!"
"Good. What we hope to do is to transform lives by improving access to water, hygiene and sanitation."
"Scott, that will make a difference. You will make a difference. You're one special guy, Scott Armstrong." She reached up to kiss him.
"Mmm. Nice." He kissed her back. "Fancy a ride out for an hour?"
"Great idea." Her eyes sparkled. "I suppose you want me to wear those tight riding breeches?"
"Hell yeah!"
---oOo---
Inside a small shabby apartment in Tompkinsville, Staten Island, Marie Odell stared listlessly at the television set. Some old movie was showing with Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn. It was the African Queen and used to be one of her favourites, but now she paid little heed and stared glassy-eyed without seeing the events unfolding on the screen. Her dark blonde hair was lank and tied back in a pony tail. She wore no make up and her face looked faded and worn, and there were dark shadows around her eyes; she looked tired and older than her 41 years.
"Marie, get me another drink."
"We're out. You'll have to go to the store."
"Give me some money." Johnny got out of his chair. "Where's your purse?"
"You took twenty dollars yesterday. I haven't any more until Monday."
"Shit. You better not be lying to me." Johnny's face darkened. "You must have more. Go and look."
"I haven't, Johnny. You spent it on dope, remember?"
"Whatever. I'll take the rent money from the tin." He stomped off to the tiny little kitchen.
"No. Johnny - don't take it. We're already behind with the rent."
"Stop whining woman. Get me some food ready for when I get back."
"There's nothing left - just bread." But he was gone out the door and never heard her response. Marie's face didn't alter. She simply sat and stared at nothing. Such had her life become. Nothing.
But there was one thing to cheer her. She had a secret stash of wine under the loose floorboards behind the trash can in the kitchen. She couldn't survive this pointless existence without it. Johnny must never find it or there'd be hell to pay. She rubbed her right eye - three weeks ago it had been black and blue where he'd punched her with his fist for not having supper ready. The fact that there was no money to buy food because he'd spent it on drugs didn't feature in his anger, he simply lashed out at her. It was second nature to him. At one time she would have stood up to him, but not any more. Now she was just another worn out old alcoholic with an abusive partner.
She levered up the floorboard with one of the kitchen knives and took out a bottle of cheap red wine. Opening it quickly with trembling fingers, she poured almost half the bottle into a large chipped coffee mug and drank it back. I was sour and vinegary but she didn't care. It gave her a little lift. She regarded the remainder in the bottle, but knew she had to go easy as her supply was rapidly diminishing. God knows when she'd be able to get more. So with regret she screwed the cap tight on the bottle, and put it back under the floorboards, then she carefully rinsed out the mug. She knew from past experience that it wouldn't do to leave traces of her small indulgencies.
By the time Johnny returned with more dope and a six pack of beer, Marie had achieved a minor miracle in the kitchen. Having found a tin of chicken soup in the back of the cupboard, she added what vegetables she had - a small onion, two carrots and a potato. It made a half decent soup, and as the remaining bread was stale, she used it to make toast.
Johnny wolfed it down without comment. He was already semi-high on whatever concoction he'd bought on the street. Neither of them spoke during the frugal meal until Johnny flipped channels on the television. It was some interview with rich cowboys on a ranch in Texas. He was about to change the channel again when the presenter reeled off a list of names. One of those names was significant.
"... And the classy new website was built by Scott Armstrong's girlfriend, Carla Odell. Carla is from Newport, Oregon and..."
"Jesus, Marie. Look here! It's your Carla."
"What? Carla?" Marie blinked herself out of her trance-like state and began to focus on the television. "It can't be. Oh my god - it IS. It's Carla! My baby girl!"
"Shut up will ya. I'm trying to listen."
The pair of them sat in silence, punctuated only by Johnny's occasional remarks of "Rich bastards," "Fucking cowboys," "Look at the size of that ranch." Marie stared in wonder as the camera panned the scenic vista of the Armstrong ranch. It looked amazing.
When the interview came to a close, Johnny was the first to speak. "So, your baby's gone and got herself a rich cowboy has she?" He smiled gleefully. "I think it high time we paid a visit to that daughter of yours and got ourselves a little slice of that pie."
"What do you mean? We can't just turn up - not after all this time." Oh god - how many years is it since I last saw her? I'm a lousy mother. She'll hate me. And I deserve it.
"Sure we can. Imagine - she'll be so pleased to see you."
For a moment, Marie wavered. "Yes it would be wonderful to see Carla again - but to turn up uninvited, looking like a homeless woman? No. No I can't do that. I won't do that."
"Listen up, woman. You'll do as you're fucking told." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. "Understood?"
"But - Johnny - what did you mean by 'slice of that pie'?"
"I mean she has money now. And these rich dudes she lives with have even more. We'll make ourselves known - get a handout."
"A handout?! My god Johnny, I - Oww!" The slap rang out. Carla's hand flew to the side of her face. It was red where he slapped her.
Johnny glared at her, and his eyes narrowed as a shifty, calculating expression crossed his face. "If I say we're going, then we're going. You know better than to argue with Johnny Myers, don't you?"
Marie n
odded, afraid. She stepped back out of his reach. She didn't want him hurting her again. "How do we get there - to Texas. We've no money."
"You leave that to me. I'll get us all we need, and then we're getting out of this shit hole. We're gonna stay with family." He laughed and took a swig of beer. "Life is on the up for Johnny Myers." He finished the rest of the beer and then went out into the night.
Johnny knew where to go for information, and he got as much information as he could on Scott Armstrong, and the more he found out, the wider his smile became. He rubbed his hands together gleefully and began to plan his life of luxury. Maybe he and Marie would hang out at the ranch and live there - or maybe the rich bastard would give them a pay off - set them up in a nice place of their own, with an annual allowance thrown in. Oh yeah, an annual allowance. That would be great. He chuckled to himself as he plotted and schemed. Why stick with Marie? Once they were settled he could trade her in for a younger woman with blond hair and big tits - the bigger the better, just the way he liked them. But then his face fell as he realised he might not get the annual allowance if he severed his 'family' connections. Still, something would turn up, he was sure. Confidence oozed through his every pore and excitement began to build.
He'd also been making clandestine enquiries about a job. Two of his old buddies were planning a raid on a gas service station at the weekend. They needed a third man to drive the getaway vehicle. He was that man. Oh yeah. He felt the adrenaline course through him. He felt invincible.
Marie was nervous. She was still in shock having seen Carla on the television, looking so happy, hand in hand with that big handsome Texan. She alternated between being wildly euphoric at the prospect of seeing her daughter again, and ashamed at turning up out of the blue looking like an impoverished wreck. She was also afraid that Johnny would cause trouble. She'd been afraid of him for years. The once good looking charming man had turned into a monster, dreadful in his anger. She shuddered. But she couldn't leave him. She'd tried once, way back, and he'd found her and beat her so badly... she pushed the thought aside. Her nervousness was also increased by a growing disquiet - she knew that Johnny was up to something. She could always tell. He became increasingly hyper as the weekend approached and on Saturday evening he left the apartment shortly before midnight. He took one of his guns with him.
Love on a Ranch Box Set Page 29