Beyond the sound of the paddle striking flesh, the stable was still. At the other end of the building, one of the mares whinnied, and Clem, the old plug-horse pawed at the straw in his stall. A few sparrows flit in and out among the rafters and a nervous Sheriff Branch coughed quietly. Otherwise, the setting was eerily silent, and almost painfully calm until the first strike landed on Cissy’s behind. Her ass was a lovely, creamy, flawless sort of pale, which most men found delightful—clothed or not. Ready to be punished, her legs were tightly clamped together, which pushed out her flesh and raised it as though it were actually greeting the occasion eagerly.
There were many men who would relish the task of reddening that pale skin until it shone with red. If she’d been his lover, Jake might have as well. But there was no lust in his loins for this one. She was pure hell, a lot of work, and, despite her indisputable charms, a pain in the neck.
Settling back to the task of her punishment, Jake reared back and brought the paddle forward brusquely with a wide sweep of his arm.
The clear, sharp crack of hard wood meeting skin shook the entire stable as the restless energy of its force rippled through the boards and bricks. The strike landed squarely, covering both of Cissy’s cheeks, hitting hard and firm on the rounded centers of the brat’s behind.
Cissy’s grunted breath followed, while her jiggling ass struggled to absorb the shock, and her skin began to turn pink.
Jake’s second smack was equally as powerful; the first of two dozen, which would pepper her cheeks until the fire on her ass became so burning hot that she was begging for some compassion.
The methodical gait of Jake’s style was something Cissy Riverton knew well; though, the foreknowledge of what she faced in no way eased her distress. “Oh, for crissakes please!” she finally howled after the sixth sharp crack of wood. She was dancing enough that he had to pause for her to calm.
“Settle down, or I’ll just keep going,” he warned.
“Oh, but please…….”
Her plea fell short as another smack drove the words right out of her mouth.
Doing her best to bear up, Cissy gritted her teeth, held her breath, and clung to the sides of the dusty workbench so tightly that it appeared her hands would fuse to the boards.
While the poor girl battled with the punishment, Garth Branch looked on in sheer amazement. He’d been dating Cissy for three months, thought he knew her well, was even aware that the randy young woman was fair game for a good working over with Jake’s leather belt when she crossed him; but he never imagined that she would submit to this kind of treatment—or that Jake Colton could have so much influence on her. When she’d amused him with this little anecdote about her life, he thought of taking her luscious package of femininity over his lap and giving her a spanking with the palm of his hand, but he never imagined anything as severe as this. It was a sight he’d never seen before; and though he had his doubts about its true effectiveness, the effect on him was remarkable. A sexy, shocking, exuberant fire began in his belly and extended all the way to his rising penis. With his hard-on growing firmer with each strike that landed, he hoped the conclusion would be soon, because he was afraid he’d embarrass himself if his physical response became visible.
The punishment proceeded on cue from beginning to end. Jake didn’t waste time, he expected a reasonably compliant woman; and as long as he didn’t have to fight a defiant mutiny, he ended the session delivering exactly the number of strikes he decided on at the outset.
Cissy had her twenty-five, each a hellaciously miserable experience of pain for the distraught woman. But she did hold on. She had before. Cissy Riverton wasn’t about to let her cousin crush her spirit. And though she didn’t come up smiling afterwards, she’d managed to dispense with her tears so he wouldn’t see the evidence of the real hurt she felt.
Having finished, Jake laid the paddle down on the bench beside her face, and then stood back, shoulder to shoulder with the Sheriff. Silently waiting, the two watched the chastised brat slowly work her bottom back inside her blue jeans while trying not to wince so they could see. When she finally accomplished the task, she stood up straight, forced her mouth into a stubborn frown, and waited. She was quite a sight, red locks slightly frazzled, the stain of one errant tear painting a line down her pink cheek, and a dramatically sexual aura billowing about her aroused body.
Though the Sheriff readily acknowledged the stimulating picture she presented, Jake did not.
“You’re going with Garth,” he said succinctly. “You’re going to face the judge. And you can hope that after the Sheriff tells him how I’ve handled you, he’ll have some compassion. If not, I’ll bring you a few things from your room to make your stay in jail more bearable.”
“Gee, thanks for being so heartless,” Cissy sniveled.
“Oh, don’t get mad at me. I’m not the cause of your suffering. You brought this one on yourself. But hear me loud and clear, if you manage to weasel out of jail time again, once you’re home, you’re on a short tether—a very short tether. The changes around here are going to be swift.”
“Changes like what?”
“You’ll be lucky if I ever let you out of the house.”
Cissy bristled instantly. “Who says I’ll even come back here?”
“I do,” Garth gave her a decently stern look. “You can trust me on this, Cissy; the judge won’t let you go anywhere else, if he lets you off at all.”
Though Garth’s sudden, steely determination made her shiver, the redhead hardly acknowledged the dept of her arousal. She sighed. There was obviously no winning this one, and the resulting sadness in her eyes was so profound that even Jake was almost moved.
Of course, he’d been through this kind of scene before and he refused to be moved. Sincere regret or damn good theatrics—he refused to try telling the difference anymore.
“Go ahead, Garth, do what you have to do.”
The Sheriff nodded, and taking Cissy by the hand, he led her from the stables to the county truck.
“You know I should cuff you,” he said.
“Oh, no.” She whined well; and Garth was too soft to see beyond it. Giving her a gentle nudge, he pushed her into the front seat.
Jake watched from the stable door, leaning thoughtfully against the brick red post, wondering for the hundredth time in as many days if his cousin would ever be more than the reckless tramp her mother had been.