The Taming of Candy Drew

09Oct11

“Well I think he is an absolutely horrid man,” Candy said as she whipped up the reigns so that the buggy smartened the pace.

“Yes, I suppose,” her sister Martha sighed. Her elder sister Candice was right, she was always right.

Martha was small with a button nose and blonde hair that she could never quite get under her bonnet. She was in sharp contrast to Candice, who was tall and always neatly turned out. Her red hair, if anyone got to see it under her over large bonnet, was always immaculately parted.

“Candy, Clive will be awfully mad when he finds me gone,” Martha said nervously.

“I am sure he will, I am quite sure he will,” Candy said indignantly, “oh and Martha, stop calling me Candy, we aren’t children anymore.”

“Sorry Candy,” Martha said unthinkingly.

Candy was almost 27 and had a reputation as something of an old maid back in Boston and might have been pretty if she allowed herself to be, but compromise wasn’t in her nature.

“I don’t know what they are fretting over,” Clive had said when he first heard that, “I am near 37 and no one calls me old anything, not if they don’t want to get busted in the mouth that is.”

Martha had met Clive at the Cattleman’s Union Dance almost two years before; it had been love at first sight. Her family back in Boston had been horrified, none more so than Candy.

“But he is a common cowboy,” Candy had said, aghast.

“He has the money for his own ranch and he is going to send for me when he has settled in.”

“But in Oregon,” Candy had exclaimed, “why there are still wild Indians out there.”

“But Candy it’s 1892, I am sure that all the Indians are nice now, they even wear hats and things,” Martha replied enthusiastically.

“Oh really Martha, you are such a ninny sometimes.”

In a rare show of defiance, 21-year-old Martha had married Clive Benson anyway.

The first year had been hard, and Martha soon realised that she was not used to the hard work compared to her life back in Boston. Her letters back home had elicited ever more worried letters from Candy extolling her to come home.

Then there had been the incident with the cows.

“Cattle Martha, for darn sake, they are cattle and you can’t go shooting at every last critter that scares you while standing out among them. They spook way too easily for that.” Clive had been angrier than Martha had ever seen him.

“I was only bringing you some lunch,” Martha protested, “and the… whatever it was jumped out at me. Why did you give me a gun if I wasn’t to use it?”

The argument that ensued hadn’t ended well. As soon as Martha had shot the gun she had known she was going to be spanked. Clive had spanked her from day one of their marriage; a small detail that she hadn’t put in her letters home.

“You could have been killed.” By now Clive had worked himself up into a rage at her continued denial of any wrongdoing. “As it is, me and the hands will take a day and a night to gather the herd. You damn near run a thousand pound of meat of those bones.”

Instead of backing down, Martha had gone for one more round of defiance in front of his men and Clive had finally lost patience. That’s when he had snatched up a switch from a nearby bush and upended her over his knee.

“Not here Clive, please,” Martha had wailed.

This time however Clive did not stop there, he shucked down her draws and then in front of six grinning cowboys had lay into her with the switch until, forsaking all pride she had begged for mercy, sobbing like a child as she did so.

“Now go and face that tree,” Clive bellowed, “and don’t move until I tell you.”

Martha hadn’t even been allowed to pull up her draws and had to stand for a good part of the day while Clive and the hands prepared to go after the herd. She had never been so mortified.

In time she might have got over it, but in her anger she had written to Candy and poured her heart out.

Candy had arrived two weeks later.

“You pack your things, you are coming with me,” Candy ordered.

“But I’m not allowed to leave the ranch compound,” Martha had replied.

Candy had spluttered and nearly spit on that. Not that she would ever do as anything unladylike as spit.

“Martha get your things, you aren’t staying here a moment longer,” Candy had insisted.

“But it’s not safe out there, Clive will be furious,” Martha had continued to protest all the way down the road until she had eventually been cowed by Candy’s scolding.

*

“What are we going to do when Clive catches up to us?” Martha said quietly.

“Catch up? Why we’ll be long gone by the time he gets home from playing cowboys. Besides how will he know where we have gone? He doesn’t even know I am here.” Candy sounded smug, Martha thought, like she was enjoying every minute of Martha’s despair.

“Well there was the note,” Martha said nervously, looking over her shoulder.

“Note what note? Oh Martha you didn’t?” Candy growled.

“But I love him, he is my husband,” Martha replied a little more assertively than usual.

“Well we will just have to hope he doesn’t find us; the beast,” Candy said driving the buggy even faster.

“I think… he already has,” Martha said biting her lip.

There on the road ahead sat Clive, tall and mean looking on a high horse.

“Oh heavens,” Candy gasped. She brought the buggy to a halt with a tug of the reins and sat glaring at her brother-in-law. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Clive drawled wiping his mouth and regarding his uppity sister-in-law and errant wife with something approaching disbelief.

Martha swallowed and looked nervously at her sister for protection. “Hello Clive, I… that is we…”

“I’ll get to you later,” Clive growled, as he got off his horse. Even without it he was a tall man, wide at the shoulder in his gingham shirt and when he took his large stiff white wide-brimmed hat off, which was rare outdoors, his salt and pepper grey hair was close-cropped.

Martha noted Clive’s thick fore-arms and remembered what they could do as he mopped his brow and hitched back his hat with one gloved hand.

“You are a beast, a horrid man, and I use the term man loosely. What kind of… you are unspeakable,” Candy continued with a string of invective that in polite Boston society almost passed for cursing.

“Candy Drew,” Clive said easily as he folded his arms and looked up at the woman perched on the buggy as if she was some species of snake oil salesman, “shut your damn mouth. This ain’t got a thing to do with you, it never has.”

“Well I…” Candy bristled tossing down the reins and reaching for the buggy whip.

“Candy if you can’t get a man of your own; and it is hardly a surprise that you can’t, then have the good grace to stay out of the marriage of a woman who can.” Clive followed Candy’s arm as it reached out for the whip. “If you make the least move to take up that itty-bitty horse goad then you might be sorry.”

“Why you…” Candy exploded. Then she noticed that Clive wore no side arm and his Winchester rifle was still on his horse. Reassured, she resolved to run him down and make good their escape.

As she stood and went to urge the horses forward, Clive seized the tackle and began to simmer the animal down a mite.

“You…” Candy spat lashing out at him with the buggy whip.

Clive caught the end easily and tugged it away, pulling Candy from the buggy as he did so.

“That fool of a woman has run this team into a lather,” Clive said to Martha, “put that break on and see to them will you?”

“Yes Clive,” Martha said, naturally falling into her usual rhythm and only a little concerned for Candy who sat dishevelled on the ground spitting grass and dust. “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to give your sister a taste of what’s needful, both now and when I get you both home to the ranch when you’ll get yours.” Clive said turning to face Candy.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Candy raged as she struggled to her feet.

Martha winced at Candy’s challenge and then swallowed, before hastening to do what she had been told.

Clive took two easy strides towards Candy and grabbed her arm, then continuing on as he had hold of nothing more than a wisp of something, he strode over to a fallen tree trunk at the roadside with Candy stumbling in his wake.

“Get your hands off me you… varmint, you snake in the grass, you… you,” Candy spluttered.

“Keep it up oh sister of mine, you are only making it easier for me and a good bit worse for yourself,” Clive said as he reached the log and sat down.

Martha watched wide-eyed as Clive rucked up candy’s skirts to get at her starched linen draws. “Oh my,” she gasped.

“You bastard,” Candy yelled, causing Martha to blush, she had never heard such language from her sister.

Clive shook his head in amused disbelief and after a brief pause to consider the complex ties at Candy’s waist, hooked his thumb in the mess of cords and yanked them away, taking down the draws as he did so.

Candy gasped in open-mouthed disbelief as Clive looked down on her never-seen-the sun behind, hard and pert like two cue balls side-by-side.

“Oh-my-gosh,” Martha exclaimed, clapping her hand to her mouth.

Clive brought his leather-gloved hand down in a mighty swat that cracked across the landscape, extracting a shriek from Candy. Then before the 27-year-old vinegar-tongued hoyden could curse again, she got another spank and then another.

“Oh-oh-oh,” Candy shrieked at each impact.

The spanking continued as rapidly and as loud as a street full of pistols during the Fourth of July and in a very few minutes candy’s bottom was as red as an autumn apple.

“Will you ever take a man’s wife again,” Clive rasped as he put all his will into the spanking.

“Oh God save me, oh please,” Candy sobbed.

“Will you ever take my wife out into danger again?” Clive held himself well, but spoke form the edge of rage.

“She’s… you… but… oh, please,” Candy babbled every unfinished thought running through her head.

At last the spanking ended and Candy fell to sobbing half draped over the log while Clive walked back to the buggy.

“Clive,” Martha whispered, “I’m sorry, it wasn’t my idea… I mean I never meant…”

Clive took her in his arms and swept her off her feet in a great bear hug.

“I’m sorry,” Martha wept.

“You will be once I get you home,” Clive growled affectionately.

“I guess I’ve got it coming,” Martha said ruefully, “We both do. But… I mean does it have to be in front of…”

“I was mad that day, you could have been killed, besides, you undermined my authority… aw shucks I ain’t perfect but…” Clive hated explaining.

Martha kissed him to silence.

They were still embracing when Candy minced over, looking about as sorry for herself as it was possible to look. “Alright maybe I… I mean what you said about a man, maybe I was jealous… I just…”

“Candy,” Clive glared at her, “I ought to leave you out here… now get on the buggy.”

Candy eyed the buggy seat with horror, “I can’t I…”

“You drive,” Clive said to Martha and then taking Candy by the hips swung her around to a kneeling position on the back of the buggy. She was in for a long undignified journey.

*

Candy hated every minute of their long ride home, but any attempt to turn around to sit ended in failure and a very vocal complaint that only prompted amusement from the damn cowboy riding drag on the buggy.

Things didn’t improve much when they arrived at the ranch either. Several hands came out to greet them with good natured jeers, which only turned more raucous when they saw Candy kneeling and then having to take careful steps up to the ranch house.

“I’ll deal with you both properly tomorrow,” Clive yelled as he strode across the yard to grab a word with his foreman.

Both women blushed, knowing that the whole ranch must have heard him.

That night Candy eased herself down on the Benson’s spare bed with an ice pack right where she needed it most. I’ll bet he’ll cool down by tomorrow and I can apologise, she thought.

Then the sound of a vigorous spanking began. Or maybe not, she thought ruefully.

Martha’s spanking went on for quite some considerable time and end in some quite definite tears. Then Candy was treated to more usual marital sounds, which ensured she was blushing at both ends before the house fell quiet.

*

The next morning she could just about sit down again and the fiery redness had eased off to a few blotches. The only real bruises it seemed were those to her dignity.

“You had best eat a good breakfast,” Martha said when Candy put in an appearance.

“Why so?” Candy sniffed at the rather rural fare.

“Well I stalled him long enough as it is, the last of the men have left, he’ll be back soon to…” Martha sucked in her cheeks as a prelude to a blush, “you know.”

“You can’t mean… we were both… corrected yesterday, you can’t mean he intends to… but…” Candy felt lost, this was not a world she was used to and after yesterday’s humiliating not to say painful experience, she had hoped that her rather rugged brother-in-law would accept her apology.

Martha shrugged. “You got that for sassing him and throwing down on him with a buggy whip. I never asked you to come and I was a fool for listening to you, but now we both have to take what’s coming.”

The usually immaculate and poised candy began to become a trifle flustered, although she tried to assure herself that she could make amends and talk Clive out of… whatever he was planning.

Overnight she had done a lot of thinking and on reflection she couldn’t help but realise that all these months she had been jealous and envious of her younger sister’s marriage. Although wild horses could not have made her admit it, she had even pondered late at night while alone in bed on what it would be like to have a man who might be a mite rough in his handling of her.

The women did not have long to wait. Clive had to dip his head a little as he entered the house, making him seem even larger than usual this morning.

“I want you both out at the woodshed in five minutes, we have something to settle,” he growled as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

“Look Mr Benson, Clive, I know I might have overreacted just a tad and I am willing to let bygones be bygones, but you really can’t expect me to…” Candy began using her most reasonable tone.

“No you look Candy, I don’t know how long you are staying, I can have one of the hands drive you to town tomorrow if you want, but while you are here you will mind me and take what’s coming. Or else I’ll put a show on for the boys that’ll make yesterday seem like a mild joshing.” With that he swallowed down his coffee and stormed out.

“I see,” Candy said dryly to the open door, “that went well.”

“It’s best we go and face the music,” Martha said, “that way it will be done and dusted by the time the men return tonight. We can only hope that they are all out on the range, else…”

“If you think I am going to walk willingly out…”

“Candy, you lost,” Martha said, “and I really wouldn’t cross him.” Then she left, glad at least to have been taken back.

Candy followed her sister out the woodshed out back, still not quite believing her brother-in-law would go through with it; an opinion that did not survive one glance of the expression on the waiting Clive’s face.

“You have three minutes to cut your own switches,” Clive said evenly.

Martha blushed, but hastened over to the old hickory that grew behind the bunk house.

“Don’t you think…?” Candy began.

Clive’s large hands went to his belt buckle and he began to unhitch it. “You nearly cost me my marriage, so I suggest you get.”

Candy swallowed and scurried away after Martha.

She found her sister studiously comparing switches and swiping them one after the other. Under other circumstances she might have laughed. Her little sister had her tongue between her lips as she often did as child when she was trying to concentrate.

“What are you doing?” Candy asked despite herself.

“If’n it breaks on our bottoms he’ll send us back over with our hinnies hanging out in the breeze. If it don’t then maybe it’ll break us before he’s done. I want to pick two that are just right,” Martha explained.

“He’s done this before? Often I mean, but I thought…”

“I was mad when I wrote the letter on account of being switched in front of the men, but I guess I had it coming. Fore that I have had it lots of times.” Martha said as she made her final choice. “Take this.”

“I am not going to submit to this,” Candy said angrily.

Martha handed her one of the switches and pulled a face. “You keep telling yourself that.” Then she all but ran back to the woodshed.

Candy followed at slower pace, determined to toss the switch away but not quite doing it. When she got to the woodshed Martha was already bending over the saw horse with her skirts turned up and her split-draws parted.

It was shocking to see her sister’s bare bottom so starkly revealed, but she couldn’t help blushing as she thought of the spanking the day before.

“Hurry now and join Martha, I’ll take you side-by-side,” Clive said cutting the air with the switch. Candy jumped. “Here give me that.” Clive held out his hand.

Candy blanched a little and without thinking she woodenly handed Clive the switch.

As he took it, Clive pointed at the saw horse and glowered at her.

“Can’t we… eh… discuss this?” Candy said nervously.

“I am going to let these do my talking, and if you don’t mind me now, it’s going to be a long conversation.”

The dark menace made Candy tremble. She told herself there was no limit to what this brute would do if she didn’t obey. With a sigh, she walked forward, her eyes firmly on her sister’s offered bottom. Then without facing her persecutor she rolled her skirts and petticoats up behind her into the small of her back and bent over next to Martha.

“Take your draws down,” Clive growled as he cut the air with a switch.

Candy gasped and then carefully undid the ties holding up her underwear and then let her bloomers fall to her ankles. Despite herself she realised that in the last two days she had been seen naked by a man for the first time in her life. She could have died of shame and yet the sky hadn’t yet fallen in.

It was a moment both strange and laced with trepidation as the two women waited bent over the saw horse with their bare bottoms turned to Clive. Candy wondered which bottom he preferred, a shameful thought that sent her into a fresh bout of blushing.

Then the first whisk-swish sounded and Candy tensed up, but it was Martha who gasped and closed her eyes as the thin wand stung her behind.

Candy watched her sister’s face with fascination as it danced under lash after lash. Then just when she thought Martha would break, a line of fire sliced across her own bottom and she squealed.

There were many more after that and Candy couldn’t help dancing a jig of her own as Clive plied his trade.

By the time the first switch was worn out both women were panting hard and their bottoms stood testimony of the dozens of lashes they had sustained. Clive’s mother used to say ‘I’ll raise welts like worms,’ and now he knew what she meant.

Not that he was in a forgiving mood. If anything he lay on the second switch with a renewed will until his wife and her sister began cry softly and set up a chorus of whimpers.

Part of Candy must know she had this coming, he thought, because since she had surrendered, she had been as stoical as his wife.

“I had a mind to use my belt to finish you both off, but I think we are done here,” Clive said at last throwing the switch aside.

Martha ran to his arms and hugged him while she sobbed; a sight that even brought a smile to Candy as she got herself unsteadily upright.

“I’m sorry, I guess, I don’t know much about married folk,” Candy said sheepishly copious tears rolling down her face. “May I?” She indicated her attire.

“Not quite yet… Martha?” Clive held his wife by the shoulders and she nodded.

“We have to go and stand facing the wall in the barn,” Martha explained meekly.

“Why? I mean…” Candy was horrified, but she had learned not to argue. “…how long…?” She knew the answer of course.

“Until Clive says we are to come inside.”

Candy nodded and both women hobbled over to the barn almost as red in the face as there were at the other end.

“Candy,” Clive called over.

Candy looked back over her shoulder acutely aware that her bare bottom was still displayed to him.

“Why don’t you stay? There are plenty of men out here for you, if you don’t mind… well…” He shrugged and smiled nodding in the direction of her ravaged bottom. “getting a man who knows how to put you in your place.”

“I’ll think on it,” Candy replied ruefully, “once I can sit down again, which will be sometime before Christmas if I’m lucky.”

Then both women tottered away across the yard taking slow easy steps.

The End.



15 Responses to “The Taming of Candy Drew”

  1. 1 George

    A sister-in-law putting her nose in husband-wife relation!?
    She needs the lesson of her life…

  2. 2 paul1510

    DJ, any man Candy gets, will find he has a handful. 😉
    Love the picture. 😀
    I really like your cowboy/girl themes, great stuff. 🙂
    Paul.

  3. 3 Mindy

    Great western story, DJ, and the title sounds like a parody to The Bard’s play. Like it.

  4. We need to see Candy nicely settled, DJ. You can’t leave her in that barn!

  5. 5 PAUL

    good story i can almost feel the switch and hear the squeals!

  6. Please can you find Candy a man?
    I loved this- Clive was terribly, terribly strict and sexy. I want to go on holiday to cowboy land now please.
    I will pack sandwiches and a gingham picnic blanket.

  7. I will meet you there. We will need horses and a sassy attitude.

    I wonder where we’ll find the horses?

  8. 8 DJ

    Thanks – just a short break from Magic 😉

    DJ

  9. Scarlet, we can rustle horses, can’t we?
    I am sure no one will mind.

    You will have to bring enough sassy attitude for both of us because I am a delight.

  10. I was counting on you for the sassy attitude. Well, let’s just assume we’ll rustle horses and somehow we’ll find sassy attitudes when we need them. Are we wearing blue jeans with thick denim bottoms, or prairie style skirts with lots of flouncy layers?

  11. We are wearing the skirts. With bloomers and about twenty ruffly petticoats and corsets, the kind that give a girl a bosom like Victoria from Bonanza (or was it High Chaparal?)

  12. Victoria lived on the High Chaparel, with her husband John and brother Manolito and stepson Blue. Is that where we’re going?

    The outdoor set for that ranch is in Tucson, Arizona. Years ago you could visit it–I’m not sure if you still can. Better if it’s now closed to the public, and we can find our way in to the long adobe house, shadowy and cool in the hot desert heat.

    We’ll ride horses in the morning, before the heat of the day builds. Dexter and Roman can keep busy fixing barbed wire fences and chasing cattle and digging wells. Then in the evening, we’ll have drinks on the veranda as the sun sets. See you there.

  13. 13 fatherjim

    Wow!

    There is probably no motiff more believable or possible than the Western/wilderness motiff. Times were rough and dangerous and times called for strict discipline if one were to survive.

    The contrast bewteen the civility of the big city and the rigours of a ranch are a perfect juxtaposition of lifestyles to make the punishment all the more humiliating!

    Great stuff!

    Jim

  14. 14 Richard

    I always enjoy your stories Some run a bit long with too many parts But thats ok as long as the right butts get what they deserve what they need in the end THANKS


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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