My Charming Valentine (5 page)

“Don’t you think it might be a bit
difficult to have to explain to Dr. Devon why I have frostbite on my ass?” she
asked, as he slid his hands underneath her coat and unsnapped her jeans.

“I’m sure that Marcus wouldn’t bat an
eye.” He grinned as he tugged her zipper down. Drawing the denim down just
below her bottom, he guided her across his knee. Lifting her coat up onto her
back, he chuckled. “Not the sexy panties I thought I’d find,” he said, as he
ran his hand across her backside. “Perhaps you were preparing yourself for just
this inevitability?”

His wife squirmed a bit as she turned her
head to look up at him. “You do know it is the middle of February? It’s
snowing, for God’s sake!”

“Ah, yes, you gotta love His timing,” he
agreed, hearing her groan at his reference to his clue. He gave her backside a
pat. “Lift up.” He was very pleased when she instantly obeyed. It took more
effort to pull down the tight fitting thermals, but he managed. Underneath she
was wearing a pair of light blue panties. Since they were still somewhat in
public, he would not bare her completely. He ran his hands across the silk
before lifting his palm and bringing it down.

“Ow!” she yelped.

Patrick grinned. He knew it was more the
sound of the swat than the force of the stroke. When she wiggled, he didn’t
hesitate to give her other cheek a matching swat. The crisp slaps were muffled
a bit due to the fabric covering her, but still rang out into the air. It took
a dozen before she was squirming a bit more frantically as he gave her the heat
he’d promised. Pausing, he ran a finger between her thighs and into the leg
opening of her underwear. No question about it, she might have protested about
having to pay a penalty, but her body was definitely enjoying the price he was
exacting. She pushed back against his hand, her soft moans replacing her
earlier soft gasps. He continued his play until he felt her tightening around
his fingers.

“Penalties do not include such pleasure,”
he said, removing his fingers and swatting her butt. Her groan of protest turned
into several short yelps as he warmed her again, another dozen swats landing
all across her backside. Patting her softly he asked, “Warm?”

“I’m burning somewhere, that’s for sure,”
she said as she wiggled her bottom again. “Perhaps you need to make sure I
won’t set the woods on fire.”

Grinning, he reached down, and listened
to her shriek as she clambered off his lap after he applied a handful of snow
to the backs of her thighs. “You’re a sadist!” she accused as she brushed the
snow off and yanked her thermals and jeans up.

“It was that or call Crystal or Brock to
come put out your fire,” he teased, referring to the fire-fighting partners
that served the community. He drew her to him and kissed her before zipping and
snapping her jeans shut. He applied another swat to her rear. “Now that you’re
warm enough, on with the game.”

Before they did so, several snowballs
were exchanged, her successful hoot in nailing him at the back of his neck
quickly turning into a shriek as she turned to run away. Catching her was easy,
and she shrieked again when he pinned her on her back and proceeded to run his
hands up beneath her clothing.

“Uncle,” she called, as his cold
fingertips slipped beneath her bra. “I’m sorry!”

Patrick bent to kiss her, their breaths
vaporizing in the cold air and yet, at that moment, neither cared that they
were lying in the snow. After he stood, but before he helped her to her feet,
she moved her arms and legs, making a snow angel. Pulling her up, he kissed her
again. “Okay, I’ve got my angel, let’s make you a little man.”

They rolled three balls, each one a bit
larger than the previous one. Patrick carefully set them on top of each other
to make a snowman that stood a few inches shorter than Phoebe. She smiled as
she set the two pieces of coal into the snow and then stuck the carrot in
place. He handed her the scarf which she wrapped around her little man’s neck.
When he handed her the first switch, she giggled.

“Now these switches are okay,” she said,
working a mitten over the forked end of the switch. After preparing the other
switch, she stuck the bare ends into the snowman’s side as his arms. Handing
her the cowboy hat that he’d brought from home, he told her to look inside. She
pulled out another envelope before setting the cap at a rakish angle on the
snowman's head.

“Tex, welcome to Colorado,” she said,
stepping back to admire their creation.

Patrick stood next to her, his chin in
his hand as if contemplating the little man. “Something’s not quite right,” he
said. When she looked up at him, he grinned and snapped his fingers. “Got it!”
His wife gasped and then broke out into peals of laughter after he rearranged
the switches so that they were crossed across the back of the snowman’s ample
backside, as if protecting his frozen assets from any heat.

“Not a little man,” he said, giving her a
grin, “She’s a little woman. Welcome to Corbin’s Bend, Texie!”

Brushing snow from their clothing, he
pulled the familiar white box from his pocket. Inside sat a small snowman
charm, his small twig arms lifted as if wanting to be picked up. Patrick loved
watching her face as she discovered a small cowboy hat hanging from one twig
arm and a pair of mittens from the other.

“Where on earth did you find these?” she
asked as he worked the charm onto her bracelet. “I mean, I’m pretty positive
you didn’t just find them anywhere. There’s an awful lot of effort put into
this game. Thank you, Patrick.”

Seeing a tear slip down her cheek, he was
quick to brush it away. “No crying, your face will freeze.” Her pleasure at the
game was all the warmth he needed. “I’ve been working on this for a while. You
might be surprised what you can find on the internet.” When another tear
slipped free, he reached out to tap the envelope. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s
play.”

At
the hands of a master, a thing of beauty created
–
to assure a naughty girl will soon feel berated. Whether crafted of
leather, plastic or wood
–
application
to a bottom turns naughty to good.

Her eyes were clear again, and her cheeks
beautifully flushed as she looked up at him. “You are an evil man, Mr.
Portman,” she said with a grin. “I’m guessing Vance is waiting to see us?”

Vance Foster was the owner of W&C
Leather and Chainmail shop. He’d also been known to visit several homes around
the community and administer spankings when requested. He’d turned in his
traveling paddle once he’d met Ettie Thomas, the feisty columnist who had found
great joy in making sure her fellow residents were aware of the man’s nefarious
activities. Vance had never showed that her cartoons and digs bothered him, and
now that she was the sole recipient of his skills, the amusing and slightly
acrid comments had stopped appearing.

At Patrick’s grin, Phoebe took his hand.
“At least there won’t be a penalty to pay,” she teased. “Maybe Ettie would be interested
in hearing some of your clues.”

“Only if you don’t mind me ensuring that
everything receives equal coverage,” Patrick said, taking the basket. “I seem
to recall there’s a hairbrush somewhere in here.”

Snatching it back, she shook her head.
“Okay, truce – besides, some stories should just remain between a
couple.”

They left the park and Patrick noticed
that the temperature had been steadily dropping. “How about we stop by the
house and get the truck? I really don’t want to hear Marcus lecturing me about
hypothermia or frostbite.”

“Oh, thank you,” Phoebe said, moving even
closer. “I do feel a bit frozen.”

After walking back to their house, they
took time to visit the bathroom and drink a cup of coffee. Warmed inside and out,
they put their outerwear back on, and Patrick helped her into the truck. He’d
already attached chains to their tires, and though she didn’t like the way they
sounded, she appreciated the extra safety they offered.

Vance lived on the other side of town,
and Phoebe was even more grateful her husband suggested the truck. As much as
she was having the time of her life, she had truly begun to feel like Texie.
Remembering how Pat had rearranged the snow lady’s arms, she giggled.

“Ah, feeling a bit giddy about your
destination?” Patrick asked, as he drove carefully through the streets.

“Not really, just thinking about Texie.”
His chuckle had her smiling yet again. God, she felt as if she’d been smiling
ever since she woke up that morning. Her smile didn’t falter as he pulled up in
front of Vance’s house.

Phoebe also got a thrill when her husband
lifted her from the truck. They might be in their mid-fifties, but he was still
in very good condition, and since he’d started them on a regular exercise
routine where they walked at least five miles a day, either outside or on their
treadmill, she’d lost a few pounds herself.

Vance opened the door, Ettie peeking out
from behind him. “Welcome. I was worried the weather might keep you away.”

“Not a chance,” Patrick said as he shook
his hand. “Phoebe might have grown up in Texas but I was born and raised in
Michigan. I’ve tried to convince her that we really did drive out onto the lake
and do donuts but she remains unconvinced.”

“Not unconvinced,” she protested, “just
amazed that you lived past the age of eighteen. Who in the world would find
that fun?”

Ettie laughed. “Forget fun, I’m wondering
why that isn’t considered a spankable offense – I mean, talk about lack
of keeping yourself safe.”

Vance and Patrick laughed and then
Patrick reminded them of the purpose of their visit. “Speaking of spankable,
shall we?”

“Sure, come into my studio.” Ettie took
their coats and gloves before lifting Phoebe’s wrist.

“This is beautiful,” she said, running
her fingertip along the charms and making them jingle. “When Vance told me
about the scavenger hunt, I was a bit confused. But now, seeing you looking as
excited as a kid and seeing these charms, I get the picture.”

“It’s been fantastic,” Phoebe said, as
they followed the men. “I can’t even begin to tell you what all his effort
means to me.”

Ettie gave her an impulsive hug. “You
don’t have to tell me, one look at your face tells the story.” She paused.
“Let’s hope whatever you get next doesn’t spoil the charm.”

Phoebe felt a shiver run down her spine
as she entered the room. The distinctive smell of leather assaulted her senses.
The shiver turned into a quiver as memories of various toys surfaced. Her
bottom might have been warmed just a short while earlier, but it was tingling
as if asking how long it must wait to be heated again.

“I’m leaving the choice to you, honey,”
Patrick said, as he stepped to her side and swept his arm towards the table
where several items were displayed.

Phoebe walked to the table, taking her
time as she looked at the paddles, tawses, floggers and straps that all seemed
to draw her attention. The next table had paddles of all sizes and shapes, some
with holes drilled through them that had her backside clenching. Those, she
knew, could leave small blisters across her ass. As much as she enjoyed a
spanking– unless they were truly for strictly punishment – she had
no desire to sit on a butt covered in blisters. Picking up an unfamiliar
object, she slapped it against her palm.

“Ow!”

Ettie laughed. “That’s a Lexan. It might
look more fragile than wood, but I guarantee, it is almost impossible to break.
It is quite flexible and if you don’t like stingy implements, I’d stay away
from it.” She leaned a bit closer. “I’ve heard that those with holes are
absolutely guaranteed to leave blisters and bruises.”

“Well, that’s settled,” Phoebe said, as
she carefully set it down. She made a complete circuit of the room and returned
to the leather display. Her hand hovered over a small riding crop before moving
to pick up a tawse. It was beautifully crafted. A comfortable wooden handle was
smooth and had been varnished until it gleamed. The leather was about a dozen
inches long and split down the middle to make two tongues. She’d read about the
implement that was often used against a bared bottom but had yet to experience
it herself. Remembering the common theme of most of those erotic stories, she
turned to her husband and grinned. “Maybe one day I’ll play the part of a
naughty school girl of ages past.”

Patrick smiled and stroked his finger
down the leather. “I can see you dressed in a plaid skirt, white blouse, white
ankle socks and saddle shoes.” He took the tawse and slapped it against his
palm, causing her to give a soft yelp as well as a little jump. “Yes, I can
very easily picture you over my knee or bent across my desk. I’d say you’ve
made an excellent choice.”

They gazed at each other, lost in
themselves until a loud crack shocked them both. “Depending on how naughty your
little student is, I’d recommend a nice sturdy rod of correction as well.”

Phoebe put her hands behind her and shook
her head. “No way, I’m not that daring!”

Patrick pulled her to him. “She might be
naughty sometimes but I can’t say she’s a delinquent. We’ll just take the
tawse.”