Tex's Revenge: Military Discipline, Book Two (9 page)

“Thanks,” she said, sticking her leg out to put them on.

“You're welcome,” he said in a tone that indicated he didn't really mean it. He was looking a little snippy, a little grumpy.

“Did he come yet?” She changed the subject abruptly. The subject of her sentence needed no clarification, they both knew who 'he' was.

“Not yet.”

“When is he going to come?”

“I don't know.”

Yes. Definitely grumpy. Almost as if he'd had bad news recently.

“Oooohhkay,” Zora said, standing up from the bed. “Well I'm ready for breakfast.”

Breakfast was held on a nice little patio that overlooked a nice little lawn rimmed with nice little flowering bushes that almost, but not quite, made one forget about the towering fence that ringed the place. It was a  generous spread, with toast and oatmeal and orange juice and coffee and sausages. Zora took the opportunity to sate her hunger with great enthusiasm so there were no further arguments as they ate. Well, as she ate, she noticed that Tex just sipped a black coffee, which made a thought come to her.

“Are there drugs in this food?” She asked, chewing on a sausage.

He gave her a wry look. “With as much as you're putting away, we'd better hope not.”

Zora frowned. “Being held prisoner works up an appetite.”

“Evidently.”

He lapsed into silence, which was quite unlike him. Zora watched him interestedly, wondering what had happened to foul his temper so quickly. Eventually she inquired after his mood.

“What's eating your ass?”

He started as if he'd been deep in thought and scowled at her. “Enough with the language.”

“Would you prefer I communicated with you in clicks and grunts?” Zora giggled to herself, oh she was in fine form, buoyed by a good night's sleep and tasty food, not to mention getting her own way on the clothing front.

“Keep it up and you'll be communicating in cries and screams,” Tex threatened darkly.

“Touche,” Zora said, pouring herself some tea. As she did, she became aware of the fact that he was watching her quite intently. “What?”

“You are a very hard lady to understand.”

“Yeah,” Zora agreed. “I take it Captain Savage hasn't come rushing to my rescue then?”

It was obvious from the way his expression darkened that she'd hit the nail on the head. Tex didn't design to reply, but she knew she was right, and she raised her eyebrows as she sipped her tea. “I did try to tell you he wouldn't come for me.”

“You've only been in my custody for a few days,” Tex said, baited into response. “He will come.”

She pointed some toast at him. “Maybe he can't come. Maybe he's locked away somewhere just like I am.”

“He's not.”

“How do you know?” She kept on the subject doggedly. Anything that kept the attention off her was good in her book.

“Because,” Tex sighed, putting his coffee mug down heavily. “An AWOL report has been filed on him. There are a lot of people looking for Captain Savage.”

“AWOL,” Zora giggled light heartedly. “Sounds funny. AWOL. Wooly. Sounds like a hat.”

“Are you quite alright?” Tex frowned at her.

“Probably not,” Zora said, still giggling at her own silly joke.

“Well I'm glad you're enjoying yourself,” Tex said, smiling slightly himself. Even in his darkest moods, he was capable of humor. That was a very attractive trait, a trait Zora tried her best to ignore.

“You better not lock me up alone all day,” she said, shifting into a more antagonistic gear to distract herself from Tex's smile.

“I thought we might have a nice conversation,” Tex said. “Would that be preferable to being locked up alone?”

“Sure,” Zora shifted around in her chair. “Let's converse.”

Tex settled back in his seat, lacing his fingers across his mid-section and giving her the full benefit of his attention. “I'd like to know what you did for Savage.”

“His washing, ironing, sometimes I'd pick the nits out of his hair...” She trailed off when Tex's expression got darker. “That sort of thing,” she finished lamely.

“What function did you perform in his team?” Tex clarified his question patiently.

“I was the rear gunner. I'd gun things. And grenade them,” she giggled again. Her silliness was beginning to compound on itself, leaving her half delirious with amusement at her own jokes. It was an odd time to get a fit of the giggles, but such fits can rarely be controlled and her nervousness only fed the giggle daemons that had possessed her.

Tex grew stern. “Am I going to have to settle you down, Zora?”

“It's the fruit juice,” she said. “Did you know one glass of fruit juice has as many sugar calories as a chocolate bar?”

“I'll keep that in mind,” he said dryly.

“You should,” she nodded.

“So what function did you perform?” The question was back again and she still didn't have a good answer for it.

She tried to think of something that would sound realistic. “I did the books,” she said. “Funneled money for him.”

“No you didn't.” The lie fell flat.

“I could have.”

“But you didn't. When will you learn that I can sense your lies?”

“I don't know, I can be a very slow learner.”

“Well let me help you,” Tex said, pushing back his chair in a fashion Zora found vaguely menacing. “Perhaps going over my knee will help you tell the truth.”

Zora scrambled out of her chair quickly. She had no desire to go over Tex's knee. Only bad things happened there. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No.”

He sat back, his suit clad legs looking strong and hard and ready to receive her squirming frame. “So why don't you tell me the truth.”

“I can't,” she said simply. “I promised I wouldn't.”

“So you're prepared to suffer for it? For this man who is leaving you in the clutches of the likes of me?”

Zora didn't like how calm and still Tex was. His harder nature was starting to show through again, completely at odds with the kindly gentleman who had kissed her hand as he settled her into her room the previous day. She was getting a reminder that this wasn't some silly game to him, this was serious business.

A little tremor started in her hands as nervousness set in. Her breakfast sat stolidly in her belly, making her wish she hadn't eaten quite so much quite so fast. She sensed that she was running out of stalling time, soon he was going to hurt her if she didn't do what he wanted. But she couldn't give in, not just because he threatened her. She locked eyes with him and shook her head slowly. “No,” she said. “You can hit me if you like, but I'm not telling you anything.”

He shifted slightly and she flinched, thinking he was coming for her, but he didn't move. “Underneath all that silliness and recklessness is quite a strong woman,” he observed quietly.

Zora could have kicked herself. Everything she did ended up telling him something she didn't want him to know. The man gleaned information out of the smallest cues. “Good one, Sherlock,” she said, taking refuge in sarcasm.

“One wonders what you'd be capable of when focused,” he said in that same thoughtful tone. He was seeing her in a different light, and that wasn't good. She needed a distraction. She needed him to think that she was goofy and silly and incapable of being useful at all. So she did the thing that made the most sense. She grabbed the edges of the small round breakfast table and upended it with a resounding crash. The smashing of cutlery and crockery was quite delightful to her ears, as was Tex's short cry of surprise. In less than a second the neat breakfast spread laid in pieces on the concrete patio, bits of sausage and toast mixed with shards of china amidst a sea of coffee and milk.

“You little...” Tex grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and propelled her back inside. “What did you do that for?” He demanded as he strode along, keeping her trotting along in his strong grip. “Well?” He ushered her into her room and shut the door then stood in front of it, his arms folded across his chest.

She shrugged and emulated his position, crossing her arms across her chest too. Defiance was the order of the day, pure and simple.

“I see,” he said when she didn't speak. “You thought it would distract me. Well you're out of luck, Zora.”

What happened next was inevitable, but that didn't stop her fighting tooth and nail as Tex wrangled her over his lap. Her jeans were pulled down, though her panties stayed up. “You can't avoid this,” Tex said, catching a flailing arm and pinning it to her back. “The more you fight, the worse it's going to be for you.”

The spanking he gave her was hard and fast. He didn't speak again, he just held her in place and applied his palm to her bottom for a good long time. Then, when she thought he might be about to let her go, he reached into the dresser beside the bed and pulled out a thick wooden hairbrush

“No!” Zora shrieked at the sight of the implement.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You've not learned anything thus far, perhaps a little wood will teach the lesson.”

She thought the brush was bad enough, but what he did next was even worse. He hooked his fingers in her panties and pulled them down her hips to her knees, baring her reddened bottom and sensitive lady parts to his gaze. Her humiliation was complete, but her cry of outrage was ignored as he placed the back of the brush on her bottom, testing for position.

The first crack of the brush made her shriek as it landed with a heavy thud that also brought with it a harsh sting. The second was no better and by the third she was screaming and cursing him at the top of her lungs. Far from being contrite, she was furious. In her mind he was hurting her for no reason other than to get his own way. She'd already forgotten what she'd done to the table and everything on it, all she could think about was how much her rear hurt and how much she hated Tex for making it hurt.

Tex was completely unperturbed by her tantrum, he applied the brush in steady strokes, going from cheek to cheek until she had completely dissolved into tears. There was no more yelling then, only sobs and whimpers. Her bottom had seen a great deal of punishment, it was swollen and bright red with darker patches on the crowns. He finally released her and she crawled onto the bed still crying, her head turned away from him. The spanking had stopped, but the pain had not, it continued to throb and burn and hurt. She heard him get up and walk across the room and felt some relief that he might be leaving her alone, but she heard him in the little en suite bathroom and then he returned. The bed sank down and she winced when he placed a gentle hand on her hip, pushing her over onto her stomach.

The next thing she felt was something wet and cool. He was applying lotion to her bottom. In spite of her anger and pain, it felt good and she was soothed by the gentle rubbing motion as he worked the cooling liquid into her hot cheeks. Her cries began to settle as he continued to massage her bottom and rub the soreness away. His hand was in a very familiar, very intimate location but there was nothing lecherous in his touch as he sorted her sore bottom out.

When she'd stopped crying completely and could find it in herself to face him again, she wiped her face on the pillows and turned her head to look at him.

He gave her bottom one last pat, gave her a gentle smile and shook his head a little. “You certainly know how to get yourself into trouble.”

Her lower lip pushed out in a pout. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Yes I did,” he said. “I'm not going to have you thinking you can get away with being destructive.”

“My panties. You said you wouldn't take them down,” she sniffed, changing the subject.

“You can't leave panties on with a hairbrush,” he explained. “You have to be able to see what you're doing so you don't hurt someone more than you want to.”

“So I'm hurt just enough for your liking?” There was definite snark in her voice.

“Settle down young lady.” The low growl was back in his voice. “You've gotten yourself into enough trouble for one day.”

She squirmed her hips, feeling something she knew she shouldn't be feeling. Along with the heat in her bottom, there was a familiar seeping wetness between her legs. She reached down and yanked her panties up, hissing as they came over her sore bottom. It would have been better to lie there without panties on but there was no way she wanted him seeing that wetness, which already felt like a betrayal.

“I'm never going to tell you anything,” she swore.

“You tell me things all the time,” he smiled. “You just don't know it yet.”

His smug comment made her rage return. “Oh yeah? Well if you're so good at telling what I mean, what does this mean?” She flipped him an erect middle finger, scowling the whole while.

A brow rose. “Was the hair brush not enough to convince you to settle down? Do you want another spanking?”

“I don't give a fucking damn,” Zora said aggressively. She was angry with more than just him, she was angry at herself for reacting to him. There was no good reason for the slick sensation between her thighs. Her body was acting as though she liked him, which made her hate him all the more.

He reached over and fetched her a hard slap that made her yowl. “I don't know what's gotten into you, but...”

“I thought you knew everything,” Zora cut in rudely before he could finish his sentence.

“Right,” Tex said firmly. “Into the corner with you.” He didn't wait for her argument, just scooped her off the bed and dumped her into a corner near the door. Being stood there like a little child did not improve Zora's temper. She turned around and tried to come out, but he was there, pushing her back in. “You're going to stay here until you can behave yourself,” he said.

“I'm not,” she said, wriggling out of the corner again, only to be put back.

“Leave me alone!” She squirmed and flailed her arms in an attempt to dodge his grip.

“No.” He stood behind her, holding her in position, treating her as if she were nothing more than a small petulant child. That made it worse, being pressed into the corner with his hard body behind her. A few inches forward and she'd be pressed right up against the wall, her hot, sensitive bottom dangerously near his crotch.

Zora growled to herself and pushed Tex's hands away as she finally acquiesced to standing in the corner. He moved back to the bed and she breathed deeply, trying to get some measure of self control back. Savage better be coming, she thought to herself, she was going through hell for him and he wasn't doing a damn thing as usual. Why was it always her who got the short stick?