Authors: Breanna Hayse
"Not if you are going to spank
me!
I would rather deal with the
damned horse," Blair replied heatedly, pressing against the wall as the
white horse began to agitate his stall.
"I swear you will not be sitting
when I am done with you.
I said to
get out of there now!
He is going
to kill you!"
Sloan's tone
changed from fury to alarm as the animal started to stomp the hay and bare his
teeth in the direction of the frightened young woman.
"No!"
Blair trembled as the horse snorted while
he pawed the ground and pulled its ears flat against its head.
The click of Sloan pulling back the
hammer of his gun made her yell out.
"No!
You won't shoot
this horse!"
She placed herself in the path of his gun
with her back to the anxious animal.
Sloan's angry look turned to amazement as the horse lifted its head and
perked his ears forward before he placed his head across her shoulder and
nuzzled her jaw.
Blair lifted her
shaking hand to the velvety nose and began to stroke the warm muzzle, trying
not to appear as stunned as she felt.
Determined to show Sloan that she was unafraid, she turned to run her
hands over the horse's neck, flanks, side and rump, and then back up the back
to his head.
She offered Sloan a
slight smirk as Skinwalker mouthed her hand with his lips.
The sound of footfalls came closer.
"Well, I'll be damned…," the
sheriff said.
"Seems like your
little lady gone and broke the Skinwalker's curse."
"I doubt it."
Sloan composed himself.
"They are probably cut from the
same piece of demon cloth."
"If that be true, I would watch my
back, or something more delicate, if I was you," the sheriff gestured
towards Sloan's crotch.
"I'm
gonna have to ask ya'll to get goin' quickly.
If word gets around that she tamed that
animal, there will be all sorts of witch hunters out here."
"Everyone knows that the witch hunts
have ceased.
It is pure
superstition …."
"Ma'am, beggin your pardon, but
there are folks in this town who witnessed the Tennessee prosecution in
1833.
That weren't so long
ago.
I'm asking you kindly to gather
these supplies and be gone with ya.
I don't want any trouble in my town.
If you follow the road, there is a
settlement about a week's travel from here that should have a wagon you can
hitch these horses to.
I'll
telegraph them and let 'em know you're coming."
"Thank you, Sheriff.
I will send the mounts back along with
payment once we arrive at our destination."
"That demon horse is hers to keep if
she can ride him.
I don't wanna see
that animal again."
"I can ride him just fine, thank
you," Blair said stubbornly.
"Bareback?
Horse never had more than a blanket on
his back."
"I'll learn," Blair snipped
back.
"Well, if the beast breaks her neck,
that will leave you with one less burden," the sheriff shrugged, shaking
Sloan's hand.
He handed Sloan a rifle,
bullets, a couple of saddlebags, bedrolls, and a bottle of whiskey.
"I usually am not blessed with such
luck," Sloan responded, shooting an angry eye in Blair's direction.
He thanked the departing sheriff, chose
a mount for himself, and began to saddle it.
Blair's quiet sobs were buried in the
thick neck of the horse, and Sloan began to rub his temple.
"I'm not a burden," Blair
mumbled, burying her face in the sleek animal's neck
"Miss Farbor."
His exasperated tone got her
attention.
"All those things I
said was an act.
Now, you either
got your feelings hurt for real or you are one heck of a performer."
"They were the same things my aunt
and governesses said about me all the time."
"Well, I'm sorry for that,"
Sloan's hand moved to the back of his neck, "but you have to understand
that men don't like to be involved in other's people's quarrels.
It makes us uncomfortable, and we just
wanna remove ourselves from the situation.
He wants us out of town as fast as possible and not leave time to ask
any more questions."
"Oh."
"Now come on out of there.
You and I have some business to take
care of before we ride."
"No."
"Miss Farbor," Sloan said
patiently, setting his everpresent hat on a post.
He crossed his arms and leaned back
against the wall.
"The longer
we stay here, the more time you will have to be under my protection.
Now, looking around here," he
scanned the room, "I see one exit and a loading window for hay bales,
neither of which you can reach without passing me.
There is the stall window," he
pointed to a narrow cut out in the wall, "but that is about nine or ten
feet high.
And you have no
ladder."
His arms fell to his side and clasped
behind his back as he stood straight.
"Your third option is getting on that animal's back and trying to
provoke him to break through the gate and run like hades out of here.
I don't know how well you ride, ma'am,
but I am willing to bet that bottle of whiskey that you won't make it out the
gate.
True?"
"That bet is worthless.
You said you live a clean life.
That means no drinking." Blair
said, smartly.
"You are correct.
I can stay here all night without a
problem, Miss Farbor.
But then
again, I'm not in a horse stall with a very large horse.
Now large horses tend to …"
"That is disgusting," Blair
shrieked, holding her nose and backing away.
"He'll probably think the same of
you when it's your turn.
Now come
out of there and fork it over."
"Fork what over?"
"Get what is owed you.
Move it now, and you will only have to
feel the flat of my hand instead of my belt.
Believe-you-me, that is only because we
have no time to spare."
Blair quivered as his words echoed in her
head.
She felt the temperature of
her face rise as she experienced both a heart pounding fear and an unusual, but
not unpleasant, tickle between her legs.
Biting her lower lip, she reluctantly exited the stall.
She did not understand her
trepidation.
She had been whipped
before, and it had not caused her pain.
Although, never by a man …
Sloan placed his hands on his hips and
shook his head.
In the dim light of
the stables, his scraggly dark hair, slightly crooked nose, eye patch and
irritated frown added to his general intimidating appearance.
Blair lowered her eyes to observe the
work-hardened muscle of his arms and the large, calloused hands that absently
stroked the edge of a wide leather belt around his waist.
Her eyes continued downward until they
gazed upon her own boots.
Blair
chewed on the inside of her cheek.
What was this feeling?
Remorse?
Guilt?
Shame?
Lust?
She began to pray that she was stuck in
the middle of an awful dream.
She felt Sloan grab her wrist with iron
fingers and pull her towards a bale of hay.
He sat down and dragged her resistant body
across his rock-hard thighs and wrapped his left arm around her waist.
He drew her back end to a more
comfortable position on his lap which, unfortunately, required that her bottom
be perched high in the air and her face close to the ground.
He rested his hand on her thickly
clothed buttocks and patted her gently.
"We both know that you won't feel a
thing with all this material in the way, so I am going to remove it."
"Father in Heaven, No!
That is indecent!"
Blair began to kick wildly to
escape.
Sloan wrapped his right leg
across Blair's ankles and held her securely in place.
"What is indecent, young lady,"
he began, peeling her dress and several layers of clothes away from her bottom,
exposing her cotton drawers, "is your temper.
What is indecent," he deftly untied
the laces and the split garment fell away to reveal a full, round bottom with
the paleness of the moon.
"Is
your spiteful actions that can end up getting you, or someone else, killed."
"Put those back!"
"What is indecent," Sloan's
voice grew soft and he gently caressed the soft ivory mounds with unspeakable
ease, "is that no one taught you to love and respect yourself.
These things will change right here and
now."
Blair's eyes widened as the wave of
shocking heat lit upon her backend.
Having never experienced a bare-bottomed
spanking, the sting was completely unexpected.
A second wave crashed upon her, and she
began to desperately fight for her release.
A third, fourth, fifth and sixth smack
plummeted to land upon her flesh.
Each exacting fall of his hand compounded the pain beyond Blair's
capacity to hold true to her pride.
By the tenth strike of Sloan's monstrously hard paw Blair began to plead
for mercy.
Sloan did not stop.
At the thirtieth spank, strings of
profanity and offensive suggestions sprung from between her weeping lips.
Sloan upped the ante and doubled the
speed of the spanking.
At fifty,
Blair was praying aloud and begging for a swift demise.
Finally, after a round of seventy very
hard, rapid strokes, she ceased fighting him.
She began to apologize, her tears
genuine and born out of sorrow and anguish, and she simply clung to his boot to
bawl pathetically into the leather.
Sloan paused his hand and rested it upon
her cherry-red bottom.
He rubbed
her scorching hot skin gently.
"You are a beautiful and intelligent woman with a wagon-full of
spice for an attitude." He pulled her up to sit upon his knee and placed
his finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his.
"Don't make me have to do that
again.
I promise you that should
you do so, I will remove my belt and give you a taste of the strap.
I told you that I am a man of my word,
so do not test me."
"I hate you," Blair whispered,
her downcast eyes blurred with shame-filled tears.
Sloan squeezed her chin.
"Keep hating me.
Maybe you will learn to mind me and keep
yourself alive out here."
"Why do I even matter to you?
You hold no obligation to me or my
family." Blair's tone was tempered with both sorrow and anger.
"I don't know how men are from your
part of the nation, but in my part of the world, we watch out for our
womenfolk.
Even the bratty
ones."
He offered her a smile
that was not returned.
"The man who attacked me and that
sheriff did not appear to be men who cared anything about women or the betterment
of our gender.
You certainly did
not demonstrate any respect by the way you … you manhandled me!
I am no child to be beaten because you
did not get your way."
Blair's
words did not match the childlike tone in her voice.
Sloan hugged her and spontaneously kissed
her forehead.
"You are just a
little girl in a grown woman's body.
I spanked your backend for your senseless and irresponsible behavior.
I will continue to do so until I hand
you over to your grandfather.
At
that time, he can figure out how to keep your pretty neck out of
mischief."
"I do not need a man to dictate
anything to me.
The way of things
for women is changing and we are not going to allow ourselves to be viewed as
property any longer.
Nor are we
ignorant children who need to be told how to live our lives.
You men need to accept the fact that we
are intelligent and able to think for ourselves.
We …"
Sloan interrupted her by placing a single
finger over her lips.
"Shhh.
I am very much
aware of the movement to allow women to vote and how they are struggling for
independence in a world that is dominated by men.
Do you think that I haven't noticed the
change in fashion with eliminating corsets and introducing women's trousers and
short skirts?
Frankly, I am
surprised you are not clothed in such an outfit, given your fondness for the
idea of women's rights."