Bryant, the Bitch and the Earlobe


El Lobo, as she liked to style herself, skipped sassily down the main street. Although no one dared tell her, the hat she wore was way too big and the leather cowboy chaps were an obscenity, worn as they were over her too tight denims that left nothing to the imagination. So tight were they, at first glance or in poor light, it looked as though she was naked under the chaps.

Even without a corset her waist was so narrow, a large woman, never mind a man, could put his hands around it. This so contrasted with her hips that if it wasn’t for the split of her buttocks, she would look like a billiard ball on legs.

If her mother wasn’t already dead she would have died of shame. To cap it all the sassy 18-year-old brandished a gun at the least excuse and was said to be able to shoot a pigeon’s eye at 50 paces. Not that she ever had, but no one was going to put it to the test.

All this would have been scandal enough in any place and age, but this was One Tree Arizona in the year of our Lord 1888.

“I’m not afraid of you Marcie Graham,” the old woman on the street corner said sharply, thoroughly scandalised, “if you were my daughter I would take a switch to you until you couldn’t sit for a month.”

“I told you not to call me that,” El Lobo sneered her second best sneer. Then she spat so that a gobbet landed at the woman’s feet.

“The idea,” the woman harrumphed and hurried away.

El Lobo went snake-eyed and scanned the street. The remark about the switch made her blush and if anyone noticed it wouldn’t do her reputation much good.

After a moment she satisfied herself that no one had seen or heard the conversation so she relaxed and sauntered on.


Bryant stretched out on the bed and yawned. Time to get up, he thought. The whore next to him was still asleep, which was surprising given how mercenary she had been the night before. Doubly surprising considering that he had spanked her for excessive sass.

“Hey girl,” he poked her, faintly embarrassed that he had forgotten her name. It was bad enough that he went with whores, but to disrespect them by forgetting their names was doubly bad.

“What you want honey?” She croaked. “You want a freebee?”

“I ain’t got time,” he replied drawing down the sheets.

She was gloriously naked. All-in-all a good looking whore, he realised.

“Not even if you get to spank me first. I don’t mind,” she leered.

“You minded well enough last night.”

“I sure did. But I loved minding it. That’s the fun part honey. You tamed me now.”

“Maybe I’ll take my belt to you. See how you like that.”

She grinned and then got on all fours and presented him with her bare backside.

“I dare you,” she said huskily.

“Maybe I have time at that,” he breathed reaching for his belt. “And then I’ll provide breakfast.”

“Ooh, what’s to eat?”

“Sausage,” he growled striking her across her upturned bottom with his belt.

The yell could be heard all the way to the saloon below.


Erin Bailey coaxed her horse up the rise. It was always slow in the mornings and it, like her, it didn’t much like sleeping in the open.

Maybe tonight she would find a town, she hoped. Then she laughed.

“A town.”

The landscape was rugged, red and rocky, there was no town for many miles.

It was days like these that she almost missed the farm. Almost.

As she thought back she dusted down her thighs as she assessed the trail ahead. Pants, she thought. One of the things that Ma would not tolerate on the farm was girls wearing pants.

But sometimes back home it was impossible not to run afoul of Ma. Get mud on your dress, Ma would cut a switch. Get caught stripped down so as not to get mud on your dress, Ma would cut a switch. Put on a pair of Pa’s old dungarees for working in, Ma would cut switch. Answer her back, Ma would tan your hind end with Pa’s old razor strap and then go cut a switch.

Erin remembered one time she came home from rounding up some stragglers. She had been careful to change out of her pants and back into gingham before returning home, although without the pants on she had led the mount for the last part.

On arriving her sister Betsy and cousin Cindy-Lou were hind end up over the rail with their draws down get a whaling form Ma. Judging from the state of their bottoms, puce with no little blistering, Ma had been at it some time.

“Don’t just stand there,” Ma had growled, “go cut me a parcel of switches and then get your bare backside over the rail aside these ‘un.”

“Whaa… Ma? What have I done?”

“’Spec you done plenty, but I can see from the way you are walking in that nice clean dress that you either been, lazy, riding herd nekkid or in Pa’s old pants again, so get your hiney over here.”

That was Ma, there was no way to win.

She remembered one time after Sunday church. She was standing to face the scullery wall next to Becky, both with their draws down and skirts up after a long wailing with the switch, when she had plucked up the courage to ask.

“Ma, how’d you know we’d been fighting?” She asked.

“It’s what sisters do after sitting in church all bored of a Sunday,” she had replied.

“You mean you didn’t know and you switched us anyway?”

“You saying you weren’t fighting?”

“No Ma, we were, but…”

“There you are then, a switching deserved. More harm in not giving a whopping due than letting something slide in my book,” Ma had said.

That was Ma.

Erin was in mid chuckle when she finally topped the rise.

“Well blow me,” she exclaimed, “if it ain’t a town after all.”

There below her was One Tree.


Pearl Prim, or Prim and Proper as the townsfolk called her behind her back, was on the war path. The night before some of the men fresh out of the saloon had shot up the town. Well maybe one shot had skidded into the sign over the post office, but wasn’t the point. One Tree was a respectable town. On waking Pearl had found that someone had also been at her vegetable garden, so it was in a confrontational mood that Pearl headed down to find the sheriff.

‘Gone fishing,’ the sign on his door read.

“Guess he didn’t want to mess with either one of us huh,” El Lobo sneered behind the increasingly frustrated Pearl.

“Don’t speak to me you, you harlot, you scandalous…” Pearl fumed, not able to get the words out.

“Don’t hold back will you, say what you mean,” El Lobo grinned as she pulled her six gun and practiced her twirl menacingly.

“If you were any kin of mine, I would paddle your rear until you couldn’t sit down for a week, a month even.”

“I guess it’s just as well that you ain’t no kin of mine then.”

“Ooh,” Pearl said flustered and flounced off.

Meanwhile at the other end of town Erin had reached the first of the town buildings.

‘One Tree, Pop. 267,’ the sign had read.

“Figures,” Erin snorted, “it looks like a one tree town.”

She dismounted to let the horse rest and led the creature up the shady side of the street.

Pearl frustrated in her attempt to get the better of young Marcie Graham and finding both the salon and sheriff’s office closed she had decided to find the town’s preacher for some sympathy.

That’s when she saw Erin walking up the street a brazen as you please wearing pants like that no good Marcie Graham.

“You, I say you there,” Pearl sniped. “Who do you think you are? This is a respectable town.”

“Well ain’t that something,” Erin snorted. “I’m mighty glad it’s something. There was I thinking it looked like a whole lot of nothing to me.”

“Why…? How dare you,” Pearl spluttered lunging at Erin and striking her about with her parasol.

“Hey get off me lady,” Erin complained doing her best to shield herself.

“Get out of this town you… trash,” Pearl screeched.

“Hey cut that out,” Erin yelped.

If anything, Erin’s seeming retreat, only encouraged Pearl to intensify her attack.

“If you don’t quit I’ll…”

“Don’t you threaten me,” Pearl spat angrily.

“Ok lady, you asked for it.”

Erin snatched the parasol away and tossed it to the wind. Then seizing the struggling Pearl she dragged over to the boardwalk of the nearby store. Then sitting on a molasses barrel she pulled the protesting Pearl over her knee and began to unravel the layers of her skirts.

“What are you doing? Put me down this instant,” Pearl was beside herself, having never been treated so.

It took a few moments for Erin to navigate her foe’s finery, by which time a small crowd had gathered in the street.

“She’s wearing spotted draws,” one of the men guffawed.

“Shame on you,” Erin mocked, “my Ma would have taken a switch to me for wearing such things.”

“How dare you I’ll… put me down this very minute or I’ll…” Pearl continued to bluster.

Then her eyes went wide in horror for the final indignity. She felt Erin loosen the neat bows at her waist and in a moment her draws fluttered down past her knees exposing her bare bottom to the eyes of the town.

The gathered townsfolk erupted into open laughter and several began slapping their sides.

“What a pert little bottom you have,” Erin observed, “I do believe that you are not one day over 30, no wonder you are an old maid, dressing like my grandmother. Apart from the draws that is, such a scandal.”

Then Erin began to spank the errant bare bottom over her knee with the kind of gusto that 32 years under Ma’s hand had taught her.

“Oouch… please don’t,” Pearl wailed.

It was too late for apologies, Erin thought as she set about turning the moon-white bottom to a vivid red.

Overcome by the shame and the sting in her bottom, Pearl began to bawl like a baby.

“I’m sorry, I’m soreeee…” she blubbered over again during the course of the next 10 minutes.

“Now Miss whatever your name is,” Erin began after a pause in the spanking, “are you going to be a good girl?”

“What?” Pearl wondered what new indignity was about to befall her.

Erin spanked her again hard.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

“Yes,” Pearl squeaked.

“Then let me hear you say it.”

“I’ll be a good girl,” Pearl said woodenly.


“I’ll be a good girl.” The town erupted in fresh laugher at this.

“Now I want you to stand up with your nose on that plank here on this boardwalk. And mind you keep your skirts held up in back,” Erin instructed.

“What?” Pearl gasped.

Erin resumed the spanking.

“Yes alright, please.”

“Ok,” Erin said setting her conquest on her feet, “Mind me know or I’ll have you cut a switch and we will begin again, do you hear?”

“Yes,” Pearl said meekly.

She could not believe this was happening, but she certainly didn’t want any more attention from this wild woman. So with a deep breath she tottered over to the plank wall and put her nose on a knot she found there.

Erin pointedly examined Pearl’s red bottom and the sauntered on, leaving the poor woman on display on what had to be the most humiliating day of her life.

“Hang on you can’t leave me like this,” Pearl blustered, blushing redder than Monument Valley at sundown.

“You move before I send word and you will think I just tickled your tail,” Erin threw back over shoulder as she left.

Standing a way back was El Lobo. Although she tried to act matter-of-fact at the scene she had just witnessed, her heart was racing. The stranger was magnificent. She was everything that El Lobo wanted to be.

Even as she glanced from Pearl’s red bottom to the stranger, she felt a longing for something she couldn’t name. It wasn’t just the tickling feeling she felt low down whenever she thought of boys and sometimes girls kissing in bed at night, although there was that too. It was something else, a deep need to be part of something. It made her feel childish as if seeing her posturing for the first time through the strangers eyes.


At the swing doors of the saloon Erin noticed a young girl in rather radical attire leaning on the rail chew a grass stalk.

“That was some stunt you pulled with old Prim and Proper,” El Lobo said lazily.

“Friend of yours?”

“It ain’t that, but this is my town and I don’t like mean girls acting tough.”

Erin arched an eyebrow in surprise. She was actually being challenged by this urchin.

“I ain’t a mean girl. I ain’t anybody’s girl. I am a dyed-in-the-wool gold plated bitch. And more of a woman than you’ll ever see again,” Erin threw out. Well it sounded good, she thought.

Then with one last dismissive look-me-over, Erin turned to enter the saloon.

“Don’t you turn your back on me bitch,” El Lobo barked as she tossed the grass down.

Erin turned and smirked.

“What’s your name kid?”

“They call me El Lobo,” Marcie said as she squared herself, her hand hovering at the handle of her pistol.

“Are you planning to draw down on me? Because I left my rifle on my horse,” Erin said, no longer smiling.

“Are you some kind of a sissy? Get it.” El Lobo said uncertainly.

“You gonna shoot me over… over what exactly?” Erin weighed up just how dangerous the girl might be.

EL Lobo realised the palms of her hands was sweating, what was she doing, she thought. She just wanted to talk, to be near the stranger and get some of the mystique, but now what? Why wasn’t she being taken seriously? She felt a fool.

Now there is nothing more dangerous than a teenager who feels a fool. Especially an immature girl like El Lobo, who wouldn’t see in a month that the blame lay at home, that was too much like responsibility.

“Alright, I’m done letting you rile me,” El Lobo said drawing her pistol.

Erin looked at the gun in the girl’s hand as if it were a snake. Then with a chop of her hand she sent the six-shooter spinning from the girl’s grasp.

“Come with me,” Erin scolded the girl and took her by the ear like an errant child. “El Lobo indeed, earlobe more like.”

Then Erin took off down the street with the spluttering 18-year-old in tow.

The townsfolk, who had not yet dispersed lest they miss something, greeted the scene with a ripple of applause.

“Hey you, boy,” Erin said to a red headed 12-year-old who stood nearby by with his eyes popping out. “Get that gun and go give it to Miss Prim and Proper for safe keeping and tell I said she was to go home.”

“Yes Ma’am,” the boy all but snapped to attention.

“Hey Earlobe, where do you live?”

Marcie launched into a string of curse words, but several of the town’s people pointed the way before they gathered in a group to follow the stranger and the town’s most dissident child down the street.

By the time they reached the porch of Marcie’s house, the girl realised that she had bitten off way more than she could chew and was in deep.

“Hey stranger, you made your point, I’m sorry OK, let’s let bygones be bygones and bury the hatchet, OK?”

“Oh sure,” Erin said easily, noting that the porch had been provided with a backless chair.

Availing herself of it, Erin pulled Marcie over her lap and patted her tight cloth-covered rump.

“Any of you good people got the needful?”

“I have got the very thing,” a man who looked like he might be the storekeeper said enthusiastically.

While he dashed off Erin set about removing Marcie’s pants and the cotton long johns beneath.

“Come on let’s talk about this, I said I was sorry,” Marcie said at the outset of the engagement, although as soon as she realised the extent of the impending humiliation, she began to really struggle and curse again.

The storekeeper soon returned with a short stout laundry paddle with a medium length handle.

“That is just the thing,” Erin said as she took it from him. “What do I owe you?”

“Oh keep it ma’am, my pleasure.”

Erin hefted the paddle for a moment for affect and then lay on the first swat with a will.

“Uh,” Marcie grunted.

Erin watched the red patch emerge on Marcie’s perfect round bottom for a second or two and decided that hard and fast was the way to go. She set a spanking pace that Ma would have thought moderate, not more than 40 or 50 swats a minute. But Erin guessed at once that for Marcie this was new.

“Yah, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” was the last coherent thing Marcie said. After only a minute she was bawling with less composure and dignity than Pearl had managed, by three minutes she would have traded the fire in her bottom for the 90 days she was once threatened with for shooting up the main street.

By the time Erin was done, Marcie was sobbing hard as well she might, given the deep dark red rash on her bottom.

“You done?”

“Yes ma’am,” Marcie wailed.

“You sorry?”

“Oh yes ma’am,” the look on Marcie’s face was the epitome of contrition.

“Before I leave town I’m gonna have you cut a switch and you will give me your bottom and take it with a ‘thank you ma’am,’” Erin whispered into the sobbing girl’s ear.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now I want you how I had Prim and Proper earlier and no complaints.”

“Huh-a-huh,” Marcie sobbed, “yes ma’am.”

The townsfolk were pleased to bring Erin a beer and a meal as she set on Marcie’s porch after that. And all the while, the former El Lobo stood with her bare bottom facing the town she had wronged.


It was a very changed Marcie Graham who opened the door to Pearl Prim. Instead of her usual brash manner, she blushed to her ears and addressed Pearl as Ma’am. Also she was dressed in a blouse and skirt as befitting a young woman of the age.

Pearl hovered at the door and looked past the girl at Erin.

“Eh… Miss Bailey is it?” Pearl asked hesitantly.

“You can call me Erin,” Erin replied, wondering why the recently tamed Miss Prim would call so soon.

“I… eh… well, I have come to apologise,” Pearl began. “I was hostile to you before and rude for no good reason.”

Pearl swallowed and exchanged a glance with the equally embarrassed Marcie.

“Come in Miss Prim sit down won’t you?” Marcie asked, trying to remember how her mother would have behaved.

“I don’t believe I will if you don’t mind,” Pearl said eyeing the chair with horror.

“I know how you feel,” Marcie whispered.

“Oh, your gun,” Pearl said to hastily change the subject and held out the revolver.

Marcie looked at the object and then glanced at Erin.

“I am not to touch it,” Marcie winced, her hand going unconsciously to her bottom. “We had another… talk.”

“I think that’s wise,” Pearl beamed.

“Actually you are just in time,” Erin said. “I have a proposition for you. Well a request really.”

“If there is anything I can do to make amends.”

“Well Marcie here seems to need a guiding hand and I understand that you have lived alone since your mother died. It seems you have much in common.”

“Yes I see… yes, what a splendid idea Miss Bailey, I mean Erin.”

“Then you will take this scamp in hand?”

“Oh please Erin, Ma’am can’t I come with you?” Marcie gushed eagerly.

“Maybe one day, but I am not a good influence. I think you need to learn more feminine charms,” Erin said gently.

Marcie nodded, but seemed unconvinced.

“I was a good friend of your mother. I should have been a better friend to you,” Pearl said encouragingly. “I would be happy to have you live with me.”

“Good then that is settled,” Erin said. “That leaves just one bit of business.”

Marcie began to chew her lip while Pearl looked up with interest.

“I promised this young lady a taste of the switch before I leave, just to keep her on the straight and narrow. I think you should do the honours Miss Prim.”

“Me, why I…”

“You don’t think this girl is going to behave on just a couple of spankings do you?”

“No I suppose not.”

“Marcie,” Erin said in a scolding tone.

“Yes ma’am.” Marcie replied and then with a downcast expression gave sigh.

Pearl was amazed that the girl went to the door and back outside, only to return with a couple of freshly cut switches.

“Pearl please take charge,” Erin said firmly.

Pearl nodded and took a switch from Marcie.

Marcie swallowed and began to undo the ties on her skirt, then quickly stripped to her bloomers. Then as Pearl watched she also stepped out of these and turned to face the table over which she bent.

“This is how my mother used to place me. Is this right?”

“That will do nicely,” Pearl said thickly.

Marcie’s bottom was apple red and just as round. It looked so sore that it was a wonder she was so compliant in the face of another correction.

“Erin don’t you think…”

“I’ve seen people killed from just such childish gunplay,” Erin said with some finality. “You won’t kill her I promise.”

Pearl swiped at the target with some satisfaction as Marcie gasped and wiggled her bottom a little. Then after letting her eyes roam over the girl’s bottom a little, she swished in again and then thrice more.

Marcie began to moan and her breathing became laboured, but Pearl sliced in once again and extracted a small yip.

“A little harder Pearl, don’t be soft, I’ve a good mind to give you a turn to show you how it’s done,” Erin said impatiently.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Pearl said shyly.

“Very well, I’ll switch you afterwards.”

“Oh I didn’t mean…” Pearl said in some consternation.

“Don’t trouble yourself, it’s no bother,” Erin said with a small smirk.

Pearl picked up the pace and let a little anger creep into the next five minutes worth of Marcie’s chastisement until the girl was weeping copiously.

“That will do. What do you say?”

“Thank you Miss Prim,” Marcie sniffed.

“Now into the corner with you,” Erin ordered.

“Yes Ma’am.”

Erin picked up the other switch and looked at Pearl significantly.

“You mean me to…?”

Erin didn’t answer so Pearl began to remove her dress and then after a pause her bloomers. Then without a word she took the same position that Marcie had.

Erin grinned at the exaggerated way that Pearl stuck her bottom out. It was also clear that the earlier spanking had been more embarrassing than overtly damaging as there were only a few red blotches on her skin.

“Have you ever been punished? Before today I mean.”

“My father corrected me on occasion with his strop,” Pearl said weakly

“I think you may find this worse,” Erin whispered.

She didn’t wait and lay the switch on in a dozen rapid swipes so that Pearl bucked and yelped as she clung on to the table top.

“This is how you do it,” Erin said. “Spare the rod and spoil the girl.”

“Yes ma’am,” Pearl said through gritted teeth.

“Shall I take you down a peg as you need,” Erin asked.

Pearl spluttered a sob and nodded.

“Very well,” Erin said quietly.

Pearl’s switching was an altogether longer and sharper affair than Pearl had inflicted upon Marcie and when it was over it was all she could do to draw a breath and lay limp and sobbing across the table top.

“I think you are done now,” Erin said kindly ruffling her new friend’s hair. “Go and stand next to Marcie and I’ll make supper. You can both have yours standing at the mantle.”

Pearl managed a tight smile and then wiping her eyes walked stiffly to stand next to her new charge.

Much later, in the short hours of the night while Marcie slept as she hadn’t since her mother died, Pearl crept into the room where Erin lay. She did not know what force compelled her and being an innocent had never heard that a woman could have feelings for another woman. Fortunately Erin had, and pulled the woman into her welcoming arms.


Maybe it’s just men that ride off into the sunset, Pearl thought as she watched Erin mount up in the dawn light. There was a tear in her eye as the woman who had changed her life blew her a kiss and then she was on her way.

“Has she gone?” Marcie wailed, running onto the porch in nothing but her shift.

“Yes,” Pearl replied sadly.

“Will she be back?”

“I would have thought that would be the last thing you would want,” Pearl whispered. “But I expect so. One day.”

“I kinda needed it,” Marcie said childishly as her hands moved to her bottom.

“And you’ll be getting it if you stand around out here practically naked,” Pearl scolded, heedless of the fact that she wasn’t wearing much more.

If Marcie noticed she didn’t say and scampered off with a quick ‘yes ma’am.’


Around midday Erin was feeling the hot Arizona sun when she chanced upon a creek full with a brim-full of cool water. With a whoop she wasted no time stripping off and diving in to feel the cold water on her naked skin.

Now about that time Bryant, as it happened, was looking for a place to set for some chow and he remembered that there was a creek thereabouts.

He found it easily enough and Erin’s horse too.

“Some cow poke done beat us to it,” Bryant said to his horse. “Well I recon the fellow will welcome a cup of coffee after his swim.”

It took Bryant no more than 15 minutes to set up a fire and lay out the makings for the bacon, beans and coffee.

“I could do with a swim myself ‘fore grub,” he said lazily as he pulled off his boots.

So dressed in just his long john he picked his way towards the creek, dancing on stones all the way. Here and there he spied some masculine clothing and was reassured that his fellow traveller was not a low-life setting a trap.

He was about to dive in when he thought he had better announce himself first, then he saw her.

The woman was a golden vision and as sleek as a dolphin. His friendly hello caught in his throat and apart from the sudden surge in his underpants, he was transfixed.

“Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine…” Erin sang oblivious to her audience.

“She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night,” Bryant quipped, “OK so it’s day, but howdy anyway ma’am.”

“What the… oh my god, who are you?” Erin screeched clasping her breasts and squatting deep down in the water.

“I mean no harm ma’am, they call me Bryant.”

“You low down varmint, you wait until I get out of here,” then without warning she reached for her rifle concealed at the water’s edge and popped off an expert shot in his direction.

“Hey ma’am there ain’t no call for that,” Bryant urged as he ducked behind a rock at the second shot.

Erin was so mad she forgot she was naked and hurled herself up the rise towards her quarry.

Bryant snapped at his holster only to realise that his six–gun was up with the horses, so he ducked around some rocks.

Erin dashed past him where he hid, but he knew that two paces more and she would run out of climb on that course and would turn and have him cold. So he stepped up neatly behind her and snatched the rifle from her hands.

“Now ma’am, please calm down,” he said turning his back on account of her nudity lest he offend her further.

However, Erin was not so easily placated and having nothing else, she brained him with a rabbit punch and he went down off the rocky side and over into the creek.

“That will teach you, you peeping tom,” Erin spat.

Then as she watched he didn’t emerge. So she edged back down to the creek to see if she could retrieve her rifle.

As she neared the edge Bryant exploded from the water and pulled her in.

“Get your hands off me,” she spluttered adding a string of curses.

Bryant reacted by ducking her for a slow count of three. Then he pulled her up by her hair.

“You ready to calm down now?”

“You damn Yankee no good…”

He ducked her again. No one called him a Yankee.

At another slow count he pulled her up again.

“You cotton-picking bastard, you snake-pigging polecat…” these last words were lost in vigorous cough-spluttering as she went down for the third time.

This time he held her under for some time. Then pulling her out, he flung her onto the bank.

“You calm now lady?” He asked climbing on the bank himself.

“Yes,” she said sullenly. She hated him. So what if she had read him wrong, he had no cause to show her up. Well OK so he had cause, but damn it all, no man laid hands on Erin Bailey.

“I’m sorry I startled you like that,” he said in a placating tone. “Shall I turn my back so that you can…?” He gave a two-toned whistle.

Erin fumed as she hastily pulled on her shirt. But with his back turned he was far too good a target so she barged him back into the water.

He wasn’t down long and was soon out I the bank. This time he looked mean.

“OK so that’s the way you want to play it,” he spat some water onto the ground.

“I don’t play, mister,” Erin growled.

“That suits me fine,” Bryant croaked seizing her arm.

God he was strong she realised. In a trice he had her over his knee and was pulling up the hem of her shirt.

“Don’t you… dare,” he voice trailed off. How many times had she heard someone say that and thought it was the dumbest thing she had ever heard?

His hand cracked down on her bare bottom in a rapid volley until the sting was more than just nudging at her. At first she tried to struggle, but it was hopeless. This was no small town rooster for plucking. This was what her Ma would have called a real trail man.

“You don’t be messing with men like that lest you can take what they hand out,” Ma had said more than once.

Erin was determined to ‘handle it’ but the rapid sting of his spanking hand was becoming a burn.

“OK I’m sorry,” she said as evenly as she could. She blushed all the harder. Worse still, that was the first time she had ever apologised to anyone other than Ma. But this hurt. Oh god, she thought, a grimace tearing at her face. This was Ma territory.

“Good to hear,” Bryant said without a hint of being impressed.

Although her bottom was already red he was in no hurry to end the spanking.

“No really. I’m… sorry,” she gasped. “There, are you happy now?”


“Gaah,” she groaned.

The spanking was lighting a real fire in her now.

“OK, OK, yaah,” she yelped, “please stop.”

She hadn’t cried since Ma, she’d do anything now if he would spare her that indignity.

Sensing she was ready to break he eased back a mite.

“Are you going to be reasonable now?”

“Yes sir,” she grunted, a small tear rolled from one eye.

“I ought to take a switch to you for good measure,” he said bringing the spanking to an end.

“Please don’t I’ll be good,” Erin said meekly.

“Spanking does a girl the world of good, don’t it?”

“Yes sir,” she said with a small smile. It was so true.

“You want some coffee?”

“Can I get dressed first?” Erin said shyly.

“Now I don’t rightly know about that,” Bryant said with a hard stare. Then his face cracked and he grinned.

“You’re the boss,” Erin grinned back. Admitting that, didn’t hurt one bit, she thought.


7 Responses to “Bryant, the Bitch and the Earlobe”

  1. 1 paul little

    Nice descripitive story love the fact that people in those days were ready to disipline young women seemed so natural to them. shame those days are gone but we can dream!

  2. 2 paul1510

    DJ, great story, now how many spankings was that, something of a record I think. 😀

  3. 3 scarlet

    Goodness, DJ, you handle the American West awfully well for an Englishman!

  4. 5 jm

    Very sexy tale. Thanks so very much. The more you can do with old-fashioned switchings and belt spankings in rural or small town settings, the better. You seem able to handle many types of situation in a natural way.

  1. 1 - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet
  2. 2 Brushstrokes Is Back!

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