From ROUGH JUSTICE © 1996 Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved.
“Ah, I’ve captured you,” Chase McMillian declared as he pulled Lacy Dalton into his arms. “You’re not going to get away from me now!” The husky blonde man’s broad arms went around the struggling Lacy, holding her fast to him. Her auburn hair once piled atop her head fell loose about her flushed pink cheeks, as her green eyes flashed fiercely. There was little determination in her protest however, her captive state the beginning of a delightful trip into an evening of passion. “You fight me any more, and I’ll paddle your behind!” Chase said, his determination clear. That wasn’t an idle threat and Lacy Dalton certainly didn’t want it to be. These tussles with Chase were one of the best parts of their relationship. Somewhere in the mix of things, she needed freedom from her pressure filled life, and she found that in Chase McMillian, and often over his lap.
“You just try and keep me here,” she cried as she tried again to wrestle away from his grasp. She wrenched hard and finally broke free, darting quickly towards the other side of the stables. Chase was after her, the pace brisk as she disappeared through the old wooden door into the night and the protection of the dark. Chase was at her heels, and while her hair flew behind her, now completely undone, and her cheeks caught the brisk evening breeze, she managed to stay just out of his reach. They ran between the paddocks out towards the meadow where they could hear the sound of horses snorting and whinnying from the prickly excitement in the air. A storm gathered in the western sky about sunset, and now loomed closer, ready to break free and grant the sun-parched earth some reprieve from a summer of endless dry days. The grasses were brown and brittle. Dust covered everything. The thought of a storm and its refreshing liquid splashing down to wash away the lazy doldrums of the season had made everyone and everything expectant and restless.
Lacy raced far into the field towards the old oak , and then, knowing that Chase was still following close, backtracked towards the house and barns, running at full speed. The more she raced the more her blood began to surge. The wind whipped around her; the storm chased at her heels. Before she could find shelter from the elements, the sky broke loose sending a torrent of heavenly water to splash against her face and drench her from head to toe. The feel of the cool water made her slow her escape from Chase’s pursuit; and her fiancé, not too happy with her impromptu flight, finally captured her again.
“You really do want a battle,” he asserted.
Though she struggled against his hold on her, her resistance was meager as he dragged her into the stable and the dim interior of an empty stall. There, he began to unfasten her wet jeans. Soaked to the skin, it was difficult to pull the garment away, especially when she was doing nothing to assist him in the task. Still, they were playing out clearly established roles: Lacy would fight him, sometimes almost bitterly, until his sheer brute strength won out and her reckoning would result. The reckoning this time was over his lap. Once he had her free of her jeans, he sat down on a bale of hay, and pulled her over his knees. Seconds later, she felt the first blow as the palm of his hand connected with her wiggling derriere.
“Ouch, that hurts!” she declared after the sting of the first smack registered.
Chase connected again and again, laying the imprint of his hand on her white bottom cheeks—both sides. Even in the dim light of the stable, it was possible to see the red color that he raised on her silky skin. When a flash of lightning brightened the space around them for a split second, Chase was particularly gratified to see the result of his work.
“Ouch, please, Chase stop!”
He peppered her bottom with a flurry of quick smacks, making this spanking particularly hard.
“You’re doing it too hard!” she roared.
“Oh, no I’m not, you rotten brat. You would have led me all over hell and back if the storm hadn’t hit.” He stuck again, harder still.
“No, please, please!” she wailed. It was more than a sting; her whole body felt inflamed. It felt as if Chase was invisibly hooked to the lightning, the fire of his stroke stimulated her beyond her bottom. She was throbbing between her thighs, which made her entire backside wiggle erotically. Even though it hurt, the mounting sensations were sex involved, just as they both expected they would be.
“You could take much more,” Chase finally said, when he pushed her off his lap. “But I have other plans.” Still keeping her in his control, he thrust her against the prickly bale of hay and held her at the small of her back while he undid his own jeans. Breaking free his erection, he planted it in that soft warm place between her thighs as he listened to the sounds of Lacy’s heartfelt moans of pleasure. “This is what you wanted,” he purred to her.
Lacy was beyond speaking. Her hot spanked cheeks and Chase’s deep thrusts sent delicious shock waves through her loins and limbs. An occasional slap of Chase’s hand against her punished skin only made her own need more dear. Gyrating her hips into his fast moving groin, the rhythm, the rocking, the heat and the turbulent night brought the two to an ecstatic conclusion. Their orgasms arrived almost simultaneously, and when they were finished Lacy collapsed against the hay exhausted, while Chase pulled out of her and stood up looking down at her red, raw bottom.
“You’re just going to leave me here?” Lacy said, peering up at him. She could hardly see his face, it was so cloaked in darkness.
“Yes, I’m going to leave you here, brat. You deserved this one. Not that you didn’t ask for it.”
“I thought maybe ...” She started to pull up.
Chase smiled arrogantly, but refused to listen to her complaint, and turning on his heel, he left her to herself.
“Chase, please!” she pleaded, but it was too late to get him back. The far door opened and closed and she knew she’d been left alone.
“Damn!” she whispered to herself under her breath.
There was a rustling somewhere behind the stall, but with the wind still howling outside the stable she paid little attention to it, simply thinking it was one of the horses. Sitting on her naked rear, it hurt, the hay poking uncomfortably into her roughed up skin. She’d only stay there long enough to catch her breath.
“My, my, that was quite a sight.”
The sound of a man’s voice pierced through the sound of the rain. Lacy looked up, shocked to see a strange man standing just beyond the stall door, grinning at her lustily from his dark and handsome face. What she could see of him in the dusky light, he was of average height with broad shoulders and short brown hair, a handsomely rugged man, with a certain degree of polish she rarely saw in a cowboy.
“Good god, what are you doing here!” she exclaimed.
“Just getting acquainted, miss,” he said easily, as if looking at a half-naked woman sitting on a bale of hay was nothing unusual.
Lacy tried pulling down her shirt to cover her exposed groin. “At least you could have the manners to give me some privacy,” she snapped.
“Certainly,” he said with a smile.
As he turned away, Lacy pulled herself to standing and struggled to get her wet jeans back where they belonged. She expected the man to leave the stables, but then that wouldn’t explain why he was there at all. When she exited the stall, looking as poised and nonchalant as she knew how, she was forced to meet him face to face. Thankfully, he wouldn’t be able to see the blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
“I don’t know when I’ve been so welcomed at a new job,” the man said.
“And I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here,” Lacy said, “but I’d better get some explanation, and fast.”
“I’m Travis, Travis Wills.” He held out his hand as if this meeting required the formal greeting. Lacy didn’t oblige him.
“The new foreman?” she said, shocked.
It took some moments for Lacy to rein in her reaction. This man was hardly what she expected. The thought of him working “intimately” with her every day made her heart race, her loins surge and a strange feeling begin in the pit of her stomach that was akin to nausea.
“It’s regrettable that you witnessed that moment between my fiancé and me. I trust you’ll put it out of your mind. It was certainly not something that was intended for your eyes.”
Travis nodded, seeming to draw in his glee. “I wouldn’t have dared walk in on your bedroom, but then . . .”
“Yes, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she went on. “So, now that you’re here, perhaps I should get you settled. You know we didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“I drove straight through from Houston, Miss, it is Miss Dalton I’m speaking with?”
“Yes,” she tried half a smile. “Lacy Dalton.”
He nodded politely. It might have appeared that Travis Wills would honor her request and forget about the spanking he’d witness, but there seemed to remain an aspect of merriment in his eyes. She was afraid this night might come back to haunt her.
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