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From: beenabadgrl <beenabadgrl@comcast.net>
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Subject: SPANKING Mountain Man (M/f, spanking)
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Date: Sat, 01 May 2004 15:26:39 +0000
===================
Running from an abusive boyfriend, a woman stows away in the back of a Yukon
miner's supply truck and finds herself stranded with him for the winter.
She was going to die. Lying on her back in a snow drift, too scared to move,
Nora stared up at the grizzly, its teeth exposed in an angry bellow, raised
threateningly on its back legs and so huge that its head nearly cleared the
edge of the cabin roof a good ten feet above her. She was absolutely going
to die, mauled by the same bear that had got Tom. The perfect end to a
grossly imperfect day.
A sudden rifle blast came from almost directly behind her, and splatters of
warm liquid hit Nora's face and froze as the grizzly jerked around, dropped
to all fours, and ran away from her towards the other end of the cabin. But
it only retreated a few steps, then turned again, rose onto its back legs
and bawled in fury.
This time the rifle blast was much closer and Nora rolled onto her side to
see Tom wading knee-deep in snow not more than four feet behind her, nearly
completely obscured by a blizzard of churning and swirling white flakes, his
dark clothes blending him into the surrounding night. But as he drew
steadily closer, the icy cold around her was nothing compared to the look on
his face.
He fired a third time and this time the bear turned and lumbered around the
side of the cabin, disappearing into the dark and the storm.
"You're alive!" Nora gasped, but her relief didn't last the length of her
declaration.
Tom turned around and every ounce of fury that he'd focused on that bear was
suddenly, squarely directed at her. He reached down, grabbed the front of
her coat and hauled her roughly back onto her feet.
"Get inside," he snarled, the heat of his breath steaming the air between
them and making him seem suddenly very dragonish.
Leaving her no chance to disobey, Tom dragged her to the front porch. As
they rounded the front of the cabin, the dark bulk of the bear could be seen
lying dead in the snow not more than twenty feet away. Already the storm was
covering the carcass, but he barely paused to look at it.
He all but carried her up the stairs by the scruff of her coat, for the
second time in as many days like an awkward sack of potatoes. When she
slipped, he lifted her feet clean up off the porch and dragged her inside by
the arm, slamming the door behind him. Whether Nora managed to jerk out of
his grasp or he simply let her go, she wasn't sure, but Frank hadn't even
looked that mad and he'd been beating her.
She rubbed her arm, swallowing hard as she tried to ignore how very much
like him Tom suddenly seemed. "How was I supposed to know the bear was right
there? You could have been mauled, you know! So I didn't stay put; so what?
Jesus, Tom! You hurt my arm!"
"Forget your arm." Tom set the rifle by the door and in quick, angry jerks,
unfastened the front of his bulky coat. Not even bothering to hang it up, he
threw it on the floor and started rolling his shirt sleeves up over his
bulky arms. "Start worrying about what else I'm going to hurt."
Now this really was shades of Frank. Her sore arm forgotten, Nora backed
away until she felt the warm fireplace rocks at her back. She flattened
herself against them, the heat searing through her wet clothes. "You stay
right there! Don't come near me, Tom! I-I-I mean it!"
She quickly looked around for something to protect herself, but the sound of
his heavy boots crossing that wood floor snapped her back around. She
screamed, dropped to the ground and covered her head with her arms.
"You," he growled, "haven't got the sense God gave a cricket."
She screamed again when he grabbed her arm, roughly hauling her back to her
feet. Hitting him was as effective as hitting a mountain side, but the
returning blows that she expected didn't come. Instead, he sat down on the
living room's only chair and, with one strong jerk, spilled her face-down
right across his lap.
Startled, she stopped screaming. Gasping, she twisted her head back to stare
at him. "What...what are you doing?!"
"Next time I tell you to stay put, lady, you're going to fall all over
yourself obeying me." He didn't bother to unfasten her jeans, but took hold
of the waistband and with one hard tug had the over-sized pants off her hips
and all the way down to her knees, baring her bottom completely.
"Omigod!" Nora panicked, and at the top of her lungs shouted, "Rape! Help,
somebody!"
As if there were anyone within miles to help her. Or even to hear her for
that matter.
Tom only laughed, a harsh cough of a sound. "Don't flatter yourself."
And his huge broad hand crashed down across the summit of her right cheek,
the echo of flesh striking flesh as loud as a thunderclap in the small
cabin. The sharp impact jolted her over his knee, and once again Nora froze.
Her mouth fell open and she sucked a startled breath deep into her lungs.
Up until that moment, she hadn't realized how cold she was from her lie down
in the snow. But for one brief second, Nora could almost convince herself
that she'd just sat down on a hornets' nest. Certainly it felt as if she had
a dozen of the angry insects biting and stinging the entire area Tom's hand
had covered, and sitting on a hornet's nest was vastly more believable than
the idea of a twenty-eight year old woman being spanked as though she were
little more than a naughty child.
Then the second hardy swat shocked her back into reality. She really was
being treated as if she were a child by this hulking, arrogant, brute of a
mountain man!
The third smack got her moving again.
"Stop it! You son of a--" His hand caught the particularly sensitive spot
right above her left thigh with vindictive force, and Nora howled, "OW!"
She bucked frantically, twisting her hips as she fought to roll off his
knee, but his free arm fastened around her waist like a steel band. She wasn
't going anywhere until he allowed it.
"Let go of me! Stop it! You can't do this!" She kicked, beating and clawing
at his thigh with both fists until she was sure his leg must be black and
blue. She elbowed him sharply in the ribs, but he wasn't even fazed. But if
anything he only spanked her harder, his broad hand slapping and smacking
her squirming rump until the hornets covered every inch, biting on top of
bites and stinging so badly that she couldn't have held still, even if she
wanted to.
In desperation, she snapped her hand back to try and grab his, but he caught
her by the wrist, transferred his hold of it to that inescapable steel band,
and then started spanking all over again. He attacked her bottom until the
chill was little more than a fond memory, a scalding fire having taken its
place, and Nora gave up trying to get away. She lay over his lap, her teeth
gritted against cries she couldn't quite bite back, her eyes squeezed
tightly shut, and so mad that she felt on the verge of tears. She clenched
her jaw tightly together, fighting hard to keep from crying. The blizzard
outside would be raging at least this hard in hell before she gave him that
kind of satisfaction!
And through it all, from the first swat to the last, Tom never said one
word. What the hell was he doing? He watched in angry amazement as his hand
descended again and again on her wriggling, squirming bottom, smooth, round,
once pale but now rapidly turning red. Only the second bottom he'd ever
paddled in his life--the first having belonged to a very bratty nine year
old Justin. The two experiences hardly compared though. For one, it had
occurred more than twenty years ago when Tom had been barely fifteen. For
another, his younger brother had been hardly likely to prosecute.
Of course, Justin would never have run out to face a bear unarmed, either.
And the image of Nora beneath the massive paws of that grizzly was enough to
make Tom redouble his efforts. Ignoring his fiercely stinging palm, he
paddled her backside until her stubbornly maintained silence dissolved into
yelps and high-pitched squeals. Only when those upturned cheeks were a
hot-cherry red and dark hints of bruising began to appear in spots along the
surface of her fair skin, did Tom finally stop.
He unceremoniously dumped her on the floor and stood up, flexing his hand.
"Now, when I tell you to stay put, what are you going to do?"
Scrambling onto her knees, she swallowed an acidic reply. Her hands flew
back to frame her bottom, her flanks so hot that they all but sizzled. She
twisted her head back to try and glimpse the damage, then glared at Tom
again.
"You've wore my hand out," Tom growled, "but my belt's more than ready for
round two, if that's what you're wanting."
"I stay here," Nora said flatly, but her expression never changed. If only
looks could kill, then surely he was about to breathe his last.
Unfortunately, as he pulled his coat back on and headed outside again, he
seemed disappointingly fit. "Thank you for your obedience."
"Choke on it!" she snarled, and rubbed her aching bottom as he closed the
door behind him.
* * * * *
Squatting by the fireplace, Tom lay two thick slabs of meat on the grill.
They popped and sizzled, and the mouth-watering aroma of freshly cooking
steak filled the cabin. "How do you like yours done?"
It had taken him nearly six hours to gut, skin, and carve up that bear.
Having worked through the remainder of the night, with the morning now well
on its way to noon, Tom had thought a couple steaks would have been a nice
peace offering on his part. Not that she hadn't earned that spanking, or
that he was sorry for having dealt it. But his cabin was just too small for
the oppressive silence anger created between two people. And anyway, one
would think after six hours, Nora would have given up being mad at him.
But no. As prickly as a porcupine, she sat in the corner, her too big
britches once more covering a bottom that he was certain must still be
fairly tender. Her bruised mouth was tightly compressed and her one eye
glared balefully at him.
He shook his head. Funny, how the cabin was starting to feel much as it had
for the last eight winters: quiet and lonely. The picture wasn't exactly
appealing.
He nudged the steaks until they were more centered over the flames and tried
again. "You like your steak rare? Charred? Somewhere in between?"
When she still didn't answer, he stifled a sigh. "Look, when you get done
pouting, let me know. I'll cook you something then."
Her nostrils flared, and she snarled, "I am not pouting. You hurt me!"
"No," he corrected, turning the meat. "That other guy hurt you. I just
dusted your backside with a few well-placed pats."
"Pats? That was assault, buster! You had no right--"
"My house," he stated bluntly. "My rules. If you don't like it, too bad.
Because that's what you get when you invite yourself to live with a
stranger. And I'll tell you right now, lady," he poked in her direction with
the fork he'd been using to turn the steaks. "The next time you ignore what
I tell you and go charging outdoors in the dead of night, in the middle of a
storm, unarmed, after a predatory bear that's looking to make a dainty
blonde snack out of you, I'll do more than just redden those nether cheeks.
I'll give you such a walloping, you won't sit for month of Sundays. You're
stuck here for the winter, so I suggest you get used to it and quit
provoking me. Now, you want salt and pepper or what?"
She gasped. "You're nuts if you think I'll ever let you do that to me
again!"
"I don't recall your 'letting' me do it in the first place. But if you think
you can stop me the next time, feel free to try."
Her anger abruptly gave way to shock. Her mouth snapped open and closed
twice. "What if I don't want a next time?"
"Suits me fine, but that depends on you and how you want to act. You can
hold that spanking against me, act the pouty princess until the thaw, making
us both miserable and probably earning a heck of a lot more whippings like
the one I just gave you. Or you can chalk this morning up to a learning
experience and behave yourself. Do that and I should have no more cause to
turn you over my knee. You'll go back to Keno, safe, sound and sitting
down."
She blinked at him, her anger rapidly fading. She looked at him for the
longest time, the silence broken only by the pop and sizzle of the cooking
steaks. As her eyes slid down to his hands, she touched her hip and gently
rubbed. "I--I think I'd like to do that second one."
"As I said, it's your choice, but I'm glad to hear it." He waved a tin
salt-shaker over his steak, lightly seasoning it, then looked at her. "Last
chance: salt and pepper?"
"Is that the bear?"
"Yup." Patiently, he waited for her to make up her mind.
She rubbed her bottom again, and her shoulders drooped a little. Finally,
crawling out of the corner, she knelt beside him to look at the meat cooking
on the grill in the fireplace. "I've never had bear before."
"Some folks say it's a might gamey, but considering that the nearest grocery
store is seventy miles south of here and that we've got ourselves a surplus
of bear outside, by the time the thaw gets here, you'll probably be used to
it."
She sighed. "Okay. Do mine then."
He seasoned her steak, then turned both slabs again. "How about if we make
this a real meal. Why don't you go below and pick us out a couple cans of
vegetables?"
"Sure." She climbed to her feet and headed for the trap door in the kitchen.
"Nora," he said, and halfway across the floor, she stopped and glanced back
at him. "I'm not that other guy. My way may not be politically correct, but
it won't leave you beat up and bloody either."
Her mouth twisted in a tight, almost sad smile. "Want to know something
funny, Tom?"
"What?"
"That was my car. Instead of hiding in the back of your trailer, I could
have taken my car and driven off and he'd be the stranded one here for the
winter. You could have been cooking bear steaks for Frank right now." She
shook her head again. "I don't know why I hid in your trailer. Maybe I
thought he'd come looking for me, or show just a little bit of concern for
what he'd done. I didn't think he was going to drive off and leave me."
"Nice guy."
"Yeah." Head down, she headed for the cellar. At the top of the stairs, she
caught the low-riding waist of her jeans and heaved them back up her hips.
Tom poked the steaks, adjusting them on the grill, then stood up. On his way
back to his bedroom, he called down into the cellar, "On the far shelf down
there, I've got a rolled up leather pouch."
Though he couldn't see her, he heard her muffled voice call back, "Which
one? I see three."
"Do you see one about the size of a loaf of bread?"
"Holy mackerel, this is heavy! What have you got in this thing? Rocks?"
"Not that one!" He sounded angrier than he meant to, and the urge to go
charging down there after her nearly overwhelmed him. He stopped
himself...barely. "Leave that one alone. Get the other one, the one with the
tools in it."
"Oh, okay." And he heard her mutter under her breath, "...bite my head
off...get your own damn bag..."
"I can hear you," he drawled.
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when she poked her head
around the corner, looked up at him sheepishly and said, "Sorry. I didn't
mean to call you that."
Then she vanished again, and he was left to wonder what she might have
called him. "Do you got it?"
"Yeah." She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, the rolled up tool bag
tucked under one arm and a can in each hand. She held one up for him. "How
well do mixed veggies go with bear steaks?"
"Works for me. Come on up." While she picked her way up the stairs,
carefully trying to avoid tripping on the long hems of her pants, Tom walked
back into the his bedroom and dug around until he found Justin's old belt.
She had opened both cans and was kneeling in front of the cupboards,
searching for a pot to heat them in when he joined her in the kitchen.
"Here," he said. "Try this on."
Her eyes lit up when she saw the belt. "Hey, thanks!"
She slipped the length of brown leather through the loops, but the farthest
hole barely cinched the waist of her jeans. Even with the belt buckled, the
pants still threatened to fall off her hips. "Well. It was a nice gesture,
anyway."
"Unbuckle it." Tom unfastened the ties that held the tool kit closed and
unrolled it on the kitchen counter. Selecting an awl, he pulled half her
belt from the loops, then overlapped the surplus length over the buckle.
Lowering himself onto one knee before her, he marked the place with his
fingers and pulled the length of leather out and away from her skin. "Hold
still."
Nora watching as he worked the point of the awl into thick leather, making a
series of three new holes. "It's hard to imagine you ever being small enough
to fit into these clothes. What were you, twelve?"
He carefully punched through the last of the new notches and stood again.
"They weren't ever mine. Here, now try it."
Tugging her pants up one last time, Nora cinched the belt to the middle hole
and buckled it again. She bounced experimentally up and down on her heels,
then walked a few steps and bounced again.
"Looks like they'll stay up now," Tom said as he slid the awl back into the
tool pouch and rolled it back up.
"Yeah," she smirked triumphantly. "I'd like to see you yank these off me
now."
He turned around slowly. Leaning his hip against the counter, her folded his
arms across his chest and asked, "Is that a challenge?"
All traces of humor vanished from her face. She held up her hands wardingly.
"No! I was just kidding."
"Not only can I get them taken down," Tom said, with a smirk of his own.
"But now I've got something besides my hand to spank you with. So, I'd be
very careful if I were you."
"You can't spank me with my own belt. That's cheating!"
"No, that's improvising. Up here, you learn to thrive on improvisation or
you generally don't last long. How about, instead of baiting me, you heat up
the vegetables." He pointed to a lower cupboard. "The pan's under there."
Leaving her grumbling behind him, he carried the tools back down the stairs
and replaced them on the shelf. In spite of himself, he checked the much
heavier gold pouch that Nora had initially picked up. The thick straps at
the top had obviously not been touched, but he still shook his head at
himself. This bag ought to have been safely stashed away yesterday, before
she ever set foot inside the cabin. And certainly before he let her down
into his cellar.
She was kneeling at the fireplace, stirring the cooking vegetables when he
emerged from the cellar with the pouch in his arms. He lowered the trap door
and headed for the bedroom. She glanced over her shoulder as he passed her,
but didn't say anything. He placed the gold in the bottom of Justin's trunk,
removing a few more items of clothes, then shut and padlocked it securely.
"Here." He brought the clothes out to her, setting the bundle down in the
corner. "You can have these while you're here. Just a couple pairs of
thermals, some shirts, socks, and an extra pair of jeans. We can cut the
legs down to size so you're not tripping on them. I also got you Justin's
old coat and his gloves. They won't fit as well, but they're better than
what you've got and they'll keep you a good deal warmer if you go outside."
She looked at the pile. "Who was Justin?"
"My brother." He didn't look at her. "How's the steaks? They done yet?"
"Yes." She obligingly dropped the subject. "They're ready whenever you are."
He got two plates and silverware from the kitchen and she dished up the
meal, giving him the largest steak and the lion's share of the mixed
veggies.
"You don't eat enough," was all he said as he sat down on the rug across
from her.
"I eat plenty," she said with mock indignation. "I'm just not a hulking
giant with Arnold Schwarzenegger muscles bulging out all over the place."
"Who's Arnold Schwarzenegger?" he asked around a mouthful of steak.
"An actor," she gave him an odd look. "You really have been up here a
while."
Shrugging with his eyebrows, he grunted and continued eating.
"Are you a miner, too?"
He looked at her, chewing slowly.
"I'm not going to steal from you, Tom. I'm not a thief."
He grunted again and looked back down at his plate. "I'm glad. I'd hate to
think I saved you from the bear, only to have to kill you myself later on."
She laughed again, though her amusement lasted only until he looked at her
again. "Oh, you were being serious."
"Just don't go digging for things you shouldn't be looking for."
She frowned. "I think I liked dinner better when we weren't talking to each
other."
They made it almost all the way through the meal before the need for
conversation again overcame her. "Do you want the rest of my steak?"
"You're not going to eat anymore?"
"No, I'm full."
He speared the left overs from her plate onto his. "No wonder you're just a
stick. You don't eat anywhere near enough."
She snorted. "Frank thinks I need to diet."
"Yeah well, he's an idiot. What does he know about it."
"He knew my butt was too big." Her elbows on her knees, Nora frowned into
the fire.
"I happened to get a pretty good look at that butt. Seemed fine to me." Tom
fixed her with an assessing look. "Why should you care what he thinks?"
She didn't look at him. "I'll bet you two-to-one he cleans out my apartment
and my bank account, and sells my car before I get home. My mom's going to
freak out when I don't call on Sunday. My boss was mad because I took some
vacation time, so I'm pretty sure I'll lose my job." She sighed. "And after
six months of not paying my bills, I'll have no home to go to and every bill
collector in America is going to have my picture on their wanted posters."
"Hey," When Nora looked at him, her face awash in the orange-yellow light of
the fire, Tom said, "I wouldn't have cooked for Frank. If it makes you feel
better, I wouldn't even have stopped him from trying to walk out of here."
She smiled faintly, but shook her head. "He wouldn't have tried. Frank's too
smart for that." She tipped her head thoughtfully. "He might have taken your
car though, and I'm pretty sure he'd have dipped his hand into your bag of
rocks."
"I'd have shot him."
"Really?"
"In a heart beat."
Before he could move, she was up on her knees and leaning toward him. He
stiffened when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a hug. It was a
friendly touch, but one that jolted through his body and went straight to
his groin before he even twitched a finger. Through two layers of clothes,
he felt her small breasts grazing his chest. But worse, he could smell her.
And damn if she didn't smell good.
"Thanks, Tom," she said as she let him go. "That's the sweetest thing
anybody's ever said to me."
At this point, being sweet was the farthest thing from his mind. Lustful or
even lecherous came a good deal closer to describing his current mind set,
and he quickly stood up, heading for the door before she noticed just how
fast the front of his jeans was filling out. "I'd best finish cutting up
that bear before the meat freezes too hard to saw through."
"Need any help?" she asked.
He took his coat off the peg, but rather than put it on, he held it in front
of him in a way that would hopefully hide his condition without raising her
suspicions. He stomped out of the door.
"Tom?" she called. "Do you--"
"No." He quickly shut it between them.
The cold outside was a welcome distraction. The storm was still in good form
and the wind, blinding him with snow, stabbed right through his shirt and
thermals to his skin. He couldn't keep doing this until spring. Not without
the risk of something vital getting frost bitten. He sighed, his breath
barely fogging the air before the wind whipped it away. Hanging his head, he
waited for the cold to work its magic once again.
************************************************************
The Mountain Man is a full length spanking novel written and copyrighted by
Maren Smith.
This and other spanking stories are available at
http://www.badgirlscorner.com/