Over the Barrel (19 page)

"The
darn horse has excellent taste, I will agree.
 
What is that?"

"Peppermint
tea.
 
I found the herbs in that
little clearing.
 
Sweetened with
honey, of course."

"Speaking
of honey, it is time that I take care of your punishment. I owe you for taking
off like you did, remember?"

"I
remember just fine, Sloan.
 
Also
that it worked out well in the end. " Blair shook her head.
 
"I don’t think punishment is
necessary."

"Oh
yes, it is.
 
I have to be a man of
my word if you are going to respect me.
 
After dinner, we will handle this.
 
I love you," Sloan said, kissing her cheek and handing her a
roasted potato.”I am just not pleased with your choices. I’ve warned you
countless time about how unsafe this environment is and yet you did what you
wanted.
 
You had a tantrum and
stomped off like a child.
 
That is
unacceptable.”

Blair
wrinkled her nose.
 
"Is
spanking me because you are displeased a means of showing love?"

"One of
many, my dear.
 
It also shows my
possession.
 
I am a very possessive
man," Sloan shrugged.
 
"I
don't share what I claim as mine with others."

"Jealousy
is not a becoming characteristic, nor is being controlling," Blair
commented, her eyes twinkling.

"Jealousy
when it is unfounded is unbecoming.
 
I am possessive, not controlling."

"You?
 
Not controlling?
 
Oh, my!"
 
Blair started to laugh heartily.
 
"You are the most controlling,
stubborn, and opinionated person I have ever met, next to my aunt."

"That
was not a nice thing to say."
 
Sloan looked somewhat wounded.
 
"I would like to believe I have less selfish motives for my actions
than she does."

"By
far," Blair agreed.
 
She
elbowed him.
 
"But if I put the
two of you in a room together, it would be difficult to determine which one
would come out victorious."

"I would,"
Sloan insisted.
 
"There is no
doubt of that."

"You
could not spank your way into winning a fight with Aunt Imelda.
 
She would surely find a means to put you
into a corner like a child," Blair teased.

"Oh
really?
 
How about if I put you into
a corner like a child before your spanking this evening?"
 
Sloan raised his eyebrows, his amusement
growing as Blair continued to sass him.

"Would
there be a corner to be found," she swept her hand to demonstrate that the
environment was without such a location, "you would be hard-pressed to
make me remain.
 
I frequently
escaped corners as a child and scrambled out the opened windows."

"Well,
little girl," Sloan snatched Blair's wrists and pushed her back against
the ground as he straddled her waist, "you would not be as apt to escape,
knowing that the penalty for leaving your corner is a sound paddling over a
barrel."

"I fear
that we will have many barrels at our homestead, once we marry," Blair
sighed, closing her eyes as he began to kiss her throat.

"We
will have a barrel in every room if that is what is needed to keep you out of
mischief."
 
Sloan sat straight
and placed his hands on his hips.
 
"Let's go take a dip in that waterfall and then proceed with your
punishment."

"I
would rather we take a dip and you make love to me, as you promised."

"I
intend to make love to you in a proper manner after we are wed.
 
Tonight," Sloan reached under her
skirts and brushed his knuckles between her cheeks, "I intend to have you
in another way.
 
Consider it part of
your punishment."

"No!
 
That is abhorrent.
 
I shall not …"

"You
shall not argue.
 
And you shall
trust me to proceed with what I feel is best for you.
 
Take off your dress, Blair."

Blair stood
gracefully and began to peel off her trailworn dress and let it drop into a
puddle at her feet.
 
Her petticoats
fell in a loud rustle immediately afterwards.
 
Blair lifted her chin, still dressed in
her draws and chemise.

"The
dress is off, Sloan.
 
Your
turn."

"It
does not work in that manner, young lady.
 
Come."
 
He held out his
hand for Blair to take.
 
With a
sigh, she pressed her slender hand into his and carefully picked her way behind
him to the riverbed.
 
"Wade in
and rinse yourself of dust.
 
I do
not want you to be distracted by dirt in your eyes when I spank you."

"Shall
I remove my underclothing?" Blair asked as she settled into the cold
stream, her breath catching in her throat as she grew accustomed to the cold.

"Not
yet.
 
I will purchase new clothing
for you when we get into town.
 
Those garments have seen better days."

"Delicate
cotton and silk were not designed to sustain through travel.
 
Must you watch me?"

"I
certainly must.
 
I have no doubt
that you will try to escape, as though there were a window nearby."

Blair
laughed, splashing him, "How well you know me!
 
Although I would not get very far
dressed in so little—and what I have being threadbare."

"Hurry
now, Blair.
 
Now is not the time to
soak and nap."

"Skinwalker
will not permit you to harm me," Blair said warningly, nodding towards the
ever-watchful animal.

"Skinwalker
is a horse.
 
And horses can be
tethered.
 
Out now."
 
He snapped his fingers.
 
"It is time to get down to brass
tacks."

Blair
released a loud sigh as she stood before him.
 
Her thin, torn underclothes clung to her
body like a second skin, displaying every curve she possessed.
 
She accepted Sloan's hand and followed
him to where he had tied up the second horse.
 
The heavy leather saddle and blanket was
mounted on a large log to allow it to dry after the grueling journey.

"Bend
over that saddle so I can prepare you for your spanking," Sloan ordered.

The saddle
was just high enough off the ground that when Blair complied, her fingertips
barely touched the ground.
 
Blair
bit her lip, realizing there was nothing to keep her from toppling over.
 
He parted her drawers, exposing her
pale, snowy mounds and the glistening slit that had begun to sprung
moisture—a moisture not obtained in the river.

Blair gasped
as he placed some items on the ground before her.
 
"What is that?"

"I took
the liberty to whittle out a paddle.
 
You looked shocked."

"I have
never been struck with anything other than a strap and a cane.
 
And the cane was always over
clothing," she confessed.

"You
will never receive a spanking from me with a barrier of clothing between us,
Blair Farbor."
 
Sloan ran his
hand along the protruding globes.
 
"I am going to start with that light paddle but I can promise you
that by the time I am done with this lesson in obedience, you are likely not
going to want to sit for a long while.
 
That should be enough to help you consider the consequences for
declaring your independence and self-reliance while on the trail."

Blair hissed
as the paddle fell in succession ten times, eliciting a warm sting, but nothing
that remotely resembled even her first 'tete-a-tete' with his belt.

"You
did not even react to that.
 
Has the
saddle made your bottom so hard that you cannot feel this?"

"I feel
it just fine, Sloan Adkins."
 
Blair looked up and grinned.

"Hmm,
but not enough.
 
Let's go to this
one," he lifted a stout switch that he had appropriated from a nearby
hazelnut tree.
 
"I doubt you
will be smiling so much after you feel this on your bare backside."

The first
stroke landed, and Blair instantly popped off the saddle and grabbed her
bottom.
 
"That hurt!"

"Really?
 
Good!
 
Put your bottom back over that saddle,
young lady.
 
Bend all the way over
and if you get up again, I have the means to keep you in place.
 
You will learn not to run off and worry
me again."

"Sloan!
 
This is unfair."

His
expression made Blair's shoulders sag.
 
Playtime was over and he was getting 'down to brass tacks', meaning she
had no means of escape.
 
She slowly
slid back over the hard leather of the seat, pushing against the pommel and
cantle to anchor her hips between them.
 
Ordinarily, she liked the scent of leather, but this time she thought
only of how Sloan's belt had felt the last time he had her bent over in this
position.
 
How she wished it were
his belt being applied to her bottom at this time!

"Sloan,
please have mercy.
 
I have been so
cooperative, have I not?"

"This
has nothing to do with mercy or your recent behavior.
 
It has to do with paying the
consequences for poor choices.
 
Over
more, Blair."

"I will
be angry should you pursue this course."

"Then
be angry.
 
I will not dodge my
duties as your protector or fiancé, nor will I turn a blind eye as you place
yourself in danger."

"I will
not submit to this treatment.
 
It is
unnecessary."

"That
is what you believed the last time I was forced to severely discipline you,
remember?
 
I must say that I
am
pleased that your bottom has retained
its plumpness despite our journey," he casually added.

He placed
the switch on her upturned moons and tapped the wood down gently to gauge his
distance upon the enticing target.
 
Blair's flesh rose in goosebumps as he
tapped the switch down a second time and then a third.

"I refuse to shed tears for you," Blair
announced as she tightly closed her eyes.

"I wish repentance, not tears, my
girl."
 
Sloan pulled his arm
back, cocked and ready for release.
 
With rapt concentration, he swiped the switch downwards.
 
It sliced through the air with a sharp
whistle and rebounded off Blair's backside with a resounding crack.

Blair clutched the edges of the saddle fender with a
viselike grip as a line of scalding fire flashed across her tender
posterior.
 
Her breath caught in her
throat as she reluctantly accepted that she was to experience an exceptionally
painful few minutes.

"As I said, my dear Blair, I intend to teach
you yet another lesson that you are not likely to forget in a hurry,"
Sloan said calmly.
 
"Eleven
more lashes, and then all will be over."

The switch swished and thwacked again, sending every
nerve ending in Blair's body into a hot prickly dance.
 
The third stroke slashed downwards and
Blair's eyes prickled with hot tears that she stubbornly refused to allow to
fall.

Blair glanced back as Sloan paused to check the
condition of her throbbing buttocks.
 
His lips were pressed into a thin line as he carefully ran his palm
along the red stripes.

"Please, Sloan, cease this," she begged.

"I cannot, my love.
 
I must keep my promise and show you that
I will never abandon you, even in discipline."
 
He took a step back, aimed, and silently
delivered stroke after stroke with determined force.
 
Each time the switch slashed across his
target, it cracked like the firing of a rifle.
 
By the seventh stroke, Blair's buttocks
were evenly covered with hot welts from top to bottom.
 
The eighth and ninth strokes began to
merge with the existing lines and left her flesh feeling like it was sizzling
coals.
 
She shook her head in a
desperate attempt to clear the fog of pain, just wanting the last blows to be
over.

Blair's bottom felt fried and frazzled, and her
hanging head began to ache as the blood pooled downward.
 
As the tenth stroke whistled through the
air, Blair clenched her teeth to the nerve-jangling implosion that racked
through her body.
 
The eleventh and
twelfth stroke followed swiftly with the same snake-like bite.
 
Blair gripped the leather of the saddle
in white-knuckle desperation, hardly able to breathe as her bottom throbbed,
ached, and burned.