The Justice Adjustment

17Oct13

justice adjustment woodshed

The second in three sequential stand alone shorts that began here.

Sophie didn’t really have a plan, not really. What she had were a series of ideas that she either acted on or thought about acting on until she had a better idea. Had she been smarter she might have realised that as plans went, not having a plan was one of her better ideas. Had she thought about it then she would have realised that if she didn’t know where she was going and what she would do next then how could Richard Open, and whoever he sent after her, find her?

Her first mistake was to dress to kill when she bought the tickets from Grand Central. The powder blue skirt suit she opted to wear for travelling may have seemed discreet in New York, but it certainly got a girl noticed. It clung so tight around the bust and hips that it might have been sprayed on, or so her grandmother would have said anyway. More noticeable still was that she had inherited her grandmother’s straw-blonde hair which she wore now in a net pile on her head under a cut pill box hat that matched both her eyes and the suit.

Her second mistake had been to buy a ticket south having asked the grinning ticket man how to get to Mexico. Mexico was good, she had thought, it was where people ran to in the movies.

But of course she wasn’t in a movie and besides she was not evading the law, not yet anyway, so going somewhere where loyalty was cheap was not the smart play.

However, somewhere along the line she had panicked. Somewhere before Santa Fe she had jumped trains and hitched a ride across country heading for California.

It hadn’t taken George Benedict more than five dollars and as many minutes to get the sweating ticket man to remember the cute blonde and where she had been heading. But the trail had gone cold once he reached Santa Fe.

Benedict was a big man, cut from the same mould as Wentworth his boss back in New York. Only he was a younger version who had turned PI on leaving the Marine Corp just three years ago. But justice adjustment paid better and was a whole lot safer.

He tilted his hat and rubbed silently at his square jaw as he considered his next move. Maybe someone at the ticket office would know something, he thought as he spied it across the concourse. He reached for the photograph he had been wired and headed on over.

“Now I know I would remember that young lady,” the cheerful ticket clerk at station told him.

Benedict pulled a face and pushed his trilby back on his head. Now just where would have this dame Sophie Weizmann jump the train he pondered.

“Say Mac,” he asked the ticket clerk thoughtfully, “Where do the train guards take a break around here?”

It had taken two days and another 10 spot to find the conductor who remembered that Sophie had got off at Baxter two stops out of Santa Fe.

Baxter was a one-horse town that might have died long ago had it not been for the rail stop. The station there had only one employee and he ‘never forgot a face’ as he insisted on telling Benedict. But Benedict rather suspected that it wasn’t Sophie’s face that the man remembered.

“Expensive clothes,” the man said with a grin, “Looked out of place around here I can tell you. She had on one of those skirts… blue I think.”

“Thanks Mac,” Benedict said with an easy smile of his own as he handed over five dollars.

The man looked at it like it was a hamburger and he was starving.

“I don’t suppose you know where she went?” Benedict said real casual like. He rolled the second five dollar note between a finger and thumb.

“She asked where she could get a bus to Farmington?” the man said quickly.

“And where might she have got a bus to Farmington?” Benedict asked.

The man gave a small greedy gulp and said, “Cimarron,” adding, “I last saw her over at the truck stop; plenty of folks willing to give a pretty girl a ride from there.”

Benedict relinquished the five and nodded gratefully.

*

The Packard rental hadn’t been hard to acquire and within a few hours he was making good time on the main highway towards Cimarron. He wasn’t sure of the bus times out of the town, but unless his girl was on the ball the chances were he would hit Farmington less than a day behind her. Hell, he might even catch-up with her before she moved on.

He almost didn’t see the cute blonde giving him the thumb outside the diner. It took a moment for him to realise that the powder blue outfit she wore matched his description and he rolled to a halt.

“Heading into Cimarron?” he asked casually as he pulled alongside her.

Sophie blinked twice and bit her lip. She looked uncertain. Maybe she didn’t like the looks of him, he thought.

Sophie knew at once that there was something different about the man in the Packard. For one thing he dressed like a city boy, the first she had seen since leaving the train. But he had a predatory look about his eyes that both at once scared and excited her.

Benedict gave her an easy smile and instead of giving her the eye, he kept his attention on the road as if he was in a hurry. If she didn’t come willingly he could scarcely kidnap her and besides he knew better than to be too eager.

“I was going to swing by that way before heading on to Farmington,” he offered by way of an additional incentive.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she looked around as if for a sign.

“Suit yourself Ma’am, I am sure there will be someone going your way… eventually.” He sat back and made as if to go.

“No it’s okay,” she decided, “Thanks Mister.”

Sophie snatched up her small blue bag and as he opened the door for her she got in.

“Benedict,” he said as she sat down.

She reluctantly took his hand and gave him the once over before replying, “Sophie.”

“You have friends in Cimarron?” he said conversationally. There was no reason for her to know that he already knew all about her.

“I was hoping to get the bus to Farmington,” she supplied. “I mean I did already have a ride, but… well the gentleman turned out to be no gentleman.”

“Tough break,” he said evenly and then with a shrug he said, “I know the type.”

He looked at the small bag she clutched hard to her chest.

“You want to put that in back?” he suggested, “It is liable to be a couple of hours drive yet.”

She hesitated and then swung around and dropped her small brown leather travelling bag onto the back seat.

“What are you doing way out here anyway?” he asked, “I mean, a girl like you is going to get a lot of the wrong attention, as you already found out.”

“I got to get away from my sister and her ex-husband,” she told him sullenly.

“Runaway huh?” he said pointedly.

“Well I’m over 21, if that’s what you mean,” she snapped.

“Don’t mean you should be out here on your own like this,” he suggested firmly.

Sophie shrugged and looked at the landscape. The mountains were high and pretty set against the orange shaded sky. The afternoon was dying and giving way to night.

Benedict eyed the late afternoon shadows stretching across the road and then followed her gaze to the sky. They weren’t going to make Farmington tonight, but then he wasn’t going there anyway, not if he didn’t need to. But he thought it best not to say that just yet. So instead he took his conversational cue form Sophie.

“If a girl I was responsible for skipped out on me, 21 or not, then I would spank her little bottom to a cherry red once I caught up with her,” Benedict said sternly.

Sophie almost rounded on him but she caught the determined look in his eye and blushed. So instead she ducked her head and shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“Yeah well, if anyone had given a damn then maybe I would say I deserved it,” she muttered.

“What about this sister and brother-in-law of yours?” he asked.

Sophie shrugged.

“They have been at war for as long as I remember, which is nuts when you think about it. He was the best thing that ever happened to us, but they have got some crazy shit to work out and I don’t want to give either of them the satisfaction.” Sophie folded her arms and pouted angrily at nothing in particular.

“Hey, I don’t have to hear your foul mouth in my car,” Benedict was genuinely shocked now.

“Well that’s too bitching bad,” she spat at him.

Benedict pulled the car to a sudden stop at the roadside.

“I mean it, one more curse from you and I will pull you from this car and paddle your tail right here by the road.” Benedict fixed Sophie with a glare until she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “It’s just that… well life ain’t been the same since Ophelia left Richard. It’s like I no longer have a family. Richard even… well he didn’t even handle what we did himself.”

“What did you do?” Benedict asked. He was genuinely curious now; he hadn’t been briefed on the details.

“It doesn’t matter does it? Ophelia is still jumping through his hoops and I get zippo since the divorce.”

“Yeah well, just watch the language okay or you will get that spanking,” he growled.

“I guess that’s fair,” she said quietly, but she was blushing again.

The light had changed now and it was fast getting dark Benedict was used to and he was taken by surprise. Just then he saw a hand painted sign that declared: Harley Homestead, rooms to let.

Benedict didn’t hesitate and swung the car up the dusty side road by the sign.

“Hey,” Sophie gave a start.

“It’s a motel or something, we’re not going make Cimarron before dark let alone Farmington,” he explained, “You in a hurry?”

“Suppose not,” she reluctantly agreed.

*

The Harley Homestead looked more like a ranch than a motel. But Benedict noticed that it had three or four well-appointed shacks a short distance from the main house of the kind that he generally associated with the better kind of road stop.

He noticed that the woman who came onto the porch to greet them was wearing pants, but otherwise looked far from homely. She was around 35 he guessed and wore her hair in the short pixie style he hadn’t seen outside of New York or California yet.

“Well howdy,” the woman smiled warmly as Benedict pulled up, “I’m Barbara Harley. Are you folks looking for a room?”

“Two rooms if you’ve got them,” Benedict replied before Sophie could say anything.

“And how much will that cost?” Sophie sounded rude and rolled her eyes at the well-kept ranch house and out-buildings. She had decided that this was beyond her price range.

Benedict noticed that Barbara Harley’s eyes tightened at the corners as she pursed her lips in cool regard of the young woman.

“I can cover both rooms out of my expense,” Benedict shushed her.

“But…” Sophie didn’t finish as she was left sitting in the car by herself.

“Benedict, George Benedict, ma’am,” Benedict said as he extended his hand.

“And how long are you folks fixing to stay?” Barbara asked in a sunny voice.

“Just the night,” Sophie shot back rather brusquely as she climbed out of the Packard.

Benedict could see that her manner irritated the Harley woman.

“Oh, maybe longer since I have business in the area and Miss Weizmann doesn’t seem to know where she is going,” he said quickly.

He gave Sophie a warning look to keep her quiet and despite some confusion on her part, she merely frowned. Barbara saw the exchange and wondered what was going on.

“Well it doesn’t matter, you can stay as long as you like,” Barbara smiled.

Sophie was puzzled by something and it took her a moment to decide what it was. When did I give my full name to Mr Benedict? She replayed their conversations in her head but couldn’t remember.

“What business are you in Mr Benedict?” Barbara asked him politely.

“Oh, you could say I work in insurance, in a manner of speaking that is. I am a kind of loss adjuster you might say,” he answered cryptically.

At the word ‘adjuster’ Sophie’s ear pricked up. She hadn’t said a damn word about being called Weizmann.

Barbara explained that it was a family business, but that most of the men worked with horses leaving her to run the accommodation. She told them that the season being largely over that they could have rooms in the house.

She led the way into her front parlour and while she collected some coffee, Sophie asked for the bathroom leaving the two older people alone.

“Tell me Mr Benedict, Miss Weizmann tells me that you just met on the road, but you knew her before or she knew you; I can’t exactly tell,” Barbara said conspiratorially while Sophie was getting freshened up.

“Sophie is a runaway of a kind and she skipped out on her family with some money she wasn’t entitled to.” Benedict sensed that the Harley woman was no dummy and a story as close to the truth as possible would serve him well.

“You have come to take her back?” Barbara said as she poured some coffee.

“If she wants to come back,” Benedict replied.

“So you just want the money she has?”

“Thank you,” he said as he took a cup and then answered, “Not my department, I am just here to give her… the option to come back and put her on the road to make amends. You see, you could say that I am here to convey a message.”

“Does she know?” Barbara asked as she poured herself a cup.

Just then there was a sound of the car starting up and the lights burst into life through the windows. The gears made something of a metallic crunch before the Packard pulled away like all the angels of hell were in its wake and shot off down the track to the highway.

“It looks like it,” Benedict said crisply.

“Tell me quickly Mr Benedict, just who are you working for?” Barbara asked him.

“Primarily her brother-in-law who put her through college, but her elder sister knows I am here,” Benedict scowled manfully in the direction of the fleeing car and then took a slow sip of his coffee.

“I sense that you have been telling me the truth, but kind of sideways on maybe,” Barbara said sharply.

“That’s a fair point,” Benedict nodded thoughtfully, “But I am not going to harm a hair on her head and once I conclude my business with her, she will be able to go home to her sister and stop cursing her head off all over the South West.”

“Mr Benedict, I believe you. There is a station wagon out back, maybe it is best you go after her,” Barbara said, throwing down a set of keys that she had taken from a china dog by the door.

Benedict drank down the rest of his coffee and stood up.

“Thank you ma’am, I believe I will.”

As he pulled on his coat Barbara said, “Hang on, I had better come with you. You’ll need someone to drive the station wagon back once you catch up to her.”

*

Barbara Harley didn’t know if to be scared or excited as the car sped out into the night. Benedict was driving faster than she ever would have done and the shadows of trees seem to fall on them in the car headlights before they sped on past. On top of that she knew the man wasn’t all he seemed and she still wasn’t certain he wasn’t a kidnapper of some such. The girl certainly seemed reluctant enough. But on the other hand sometimes a girl could be as dumb as a bag of hammers and stubborn to boot. No, she had a real feeling that even if Benedict’s intentions hadn’t started out on the level, now he had a connection with the girl and she with him. She was never wrong about these things.

Then another thing occurred to her and she asked, “How do you know which way she went? I mean she could have turned either way at the highway.”

“I don’t for sure, but I have a hunch she wouldn’t go back the way she came and now she has the car she might reckon on Farmington, figuring I’ll take the Cimarron road first.” Benedict seemed certain enough, almost as if he had an instinct for the thing.

“But unless she handles a car like you do, we should have caught up with her by now surely,” Barbara suggested.

She had a point, he decided, but he said, “She’s young and stupid. And she’s scared, so I’m betting she has put her foot to the metal and is running blind now.”

As if on cue they saw a pair of red lights up ahead, although they didn’t seem to be moving. Then when the road curved to the left, they saw that the car didn’t having run off the road.

“Hell,” he cursed and pulled to a full stop.

“Mercy,” Barbara clutched at her throat, concern etched in two furrowed lines above her nose. “Do you think she is alright?”

But Benedict was already out of the car and running. It was the Packard alright, although from his line of sight it looked in good shape.

Sophie was standing at the front stooped over when he got there. She seemed to be inspecting the damage.

“Shit, the damn car went straight on when it should have gone left with the bend,” she muttered.

Benedict was too relieved to mind her language, but her cocksure manner and failure to take responsibility irked him somewhat.

“You supposed to drive it, not let car do the steering for you.” His tone was dry.

Sophie scowled at him and then looked away again as if to avoid his gaze.

“Yeah, well the dumb car ain’t hurt,” she muttered.

“You might have been killed.” He spoke slowly and his tone was as dark as the night that gathered about them.

“Mercy me, that was a stupid thing to do,” Barbara said as she came over. “Are you alright?”

“I guess so,” Sophie mumbled.

“What made you take off like that?” Barbara asked.

Sophie looked across at Benedict, her face was under lit by the car lights so that she looked like a corpse. She looked uncomfortable as she said, “He’s going to spank me.”

“I should darn well think so, driving off like that. Are you always running off that way so that folks have to chase you?” Barbara let her exasperation show.

“I guess I’m through running,” she sighed.

“Mrs Harley, I noticed you had a woodshed out back of your house,” Benedict said in a casual tone.

“Sure do,” Barbara said with a swallowed smirk as she looked over at Sophie.

Sophie’s jaw hung open as she shot her gaze back and forth between Benedict and the woman.

“Maybe I can rent it out for an hour or two tomorrow morning?” he said.

“I suppose it comes with the room, kind of thrown in like,” Barbara said breezily.

*

It didn’t take long for Benedict to extract the car from the bush it was pressed against, although the wheels skidded some in the dirt before it gained purchase enough to get back onto the road. But Barbara didn’t wait and taking Sophie by the arm led her to the station wagon.

“I had best get this girl back and fed,” Barbara said, “You need me to round up some of the men and give you a hand.”

“No ma’am, I’ll follow on right behind,” Benedict said with an encouraging nod, “But thanks ma’am.”

Once they were in the car and headed back Sophie took on like a caged bird.

“You going to let him spank me?” she said in an accusatory voice.

Barbara’s expression was hard as she frowned against the night as if unused to driving in the dark. She was certainly taking slower than either Sophie or Benedict.

“If that’s what he is fixing to do,” Barbara replied.

“But… but I’m 21… he… he just came here to spank me on Richard’s orders,” Sophie spluttered to a whine. “Or to drag me back for one; it’s the same thing.”

“You take some money?” Barbara asked.

“No… I… well, I didn’t take it exactly. We just kind of… well Ophelia made a call and had Richard’s office wire some. We pretended to be another office…” To Sophie’s ears now it sounded bad.

“So you did steal some money.” Barbara was suddenly angry on Richard’s behalf, although she had never met the man. “And this was your idea I bet?”

“Well kind of, Ophelia didn’t want to do it… but…”

“So you are not just a thief, but some kind of sneak thief, and a car thief and a reckless driver,” Barbara accused, “Have I got that about right?”

“Look I don’t have to answer to you,” Sophie snipped back.

“I guess not,” Barbara said tartly, “But I tell you on the Harley Homestead a girl like you would get to go cut a switch if they did half what you did, 21 or not.”

Sophie responded with a frustrated groan and grumpily folded her arms.

*

Both cars arrived together under a star-struck sky. Crickets and some other creature sang to them and even Sophie stopped to look around in awe.

“I bet folks come here just to look at the night sky,” Sophie gasped.

You’re not such a bad kid after all are you? Barbara thought affectionately. You just need straightening out a little. Then she too looked up through new eyes at God’s heaven above them.

“My oh my, they surely do,” she sighed.

Benedict got at the car and watched the women with some bemusement. Then he too looked up and lingered with his gaze. But he was still too mad to stand gawping for long.

“You can come with,” he growled as he strode over to Sophie and dragged her tottering towards the house.

For a moment Sophie was torn between the stars and her direction of travel. Then she guessed what he was about.

“You said tomorrow, you said the woodshed tomorrow,” she wailed as if that was a welcome prospect.

“After a stunt like that you can have something on account from me personally and strictly off the books,” he barked back at her.

Behind them Barbara shook her head in amusement and followed on. By the time she reached the porch Benedict was already sitting on the swing chair with Sophie draped across his lap. The couple were framed by the rectangle of light coming from the kitchen widow that in their haste they had left on. The girl’s bottom was an inviting dome across his knees with the tight pencil skirt clinging to her to good effect. But it didn’t lend itself to flipping up and for a moment he was stalled in his ire.

“You going to spank her bare bottom?” Barbara tossed the words at him carelessly.

“What?” Sophie squealed, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Honey, you don’t get to call the shots on this one,” Barbara told her, “Leastways that’s usually how it works around here.”

Benedict was surprised at Barbara’s casual attitude. Civilians usually weren’t this understanding in his profession.

“Here let me help,” Barbara continued. As she spoke she reached out and popped a small button in back of Sophie’s waist and a moment later she worked the zip so that the girl’s pantie bursting bottom bloomed into view.

A moment later the older woman had drawn the skirt and under slip down over Sophie’ thighs to expose her panties, stocking tops and suspenders.

“Come on you can’t do this to me,” Sophie wailed as she bucked.

“I guess you can take it from there,” Barbara chuckled.

“Come on Mr Benedict, you can’t, I’m sorry I took your… caaaaa,” she gasped as he panties went south, adding in a squeal, “Mr Benedict.”

“You have this coming and I think you know you do,” he snarled at her, “You might have been killed.”

Eyes wide and floundering, Sophie actually thought for a moment that he cared. But the first swipe of his hand landed with a crisp burn that stole that thought right out of her head.

“Ouch,” she yelped, “Please Mr… Benedict…”

Her voice was shrill and became shriller as he set about a good volley spanking until her bottom held a tomato sheen.

Round about then Barbara returned and strolled casually up to them to watch.

“Making progress I see, but to do the girl some justice you’ll be here all night and your supper is getting cold,” she sounded more amused than impatient. “Here use this, it’s seen plenty of action.”

Barbara offered Benedict an old-fashioned long-handled hairbrush.

“Say thanks,” he said as he hefted it for a moment.

Then with a sharper resounding splat that echoed back at him from across the yard he spanked down hard on the bare bottom in his lap.

“Yeeaaaaaaaaahhh.” Sophie’s announcement was shrill. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“That’s the ticket,” Barbara winked, “Supper will be in about 15 minutes and don’t forget to wash-up.”

“Should be long enough,” a determined Benedict replied as he brought the brush down again hard with much the same results.

Barbara stood watching for a moment or two longer as Sophie yelled the place down.

“Reminds me of old times,” Barbara said ruefully, “And not so long ago. Not so very different from when little sis and the cousins are home from college,” she added wistfully.

“No more please Mr Benedict, I’ll be good, I’ll be ever so good,” Sophie bawled much like the aforesaid co-eds.

“Ooh, that’s blistering up nicely,” Barbara said with not a little awe as she took one last lingering glance over her shoulder at Sophie’s spanking

*

Sophie had little else on but a gingham shirt she had borrowed from Barbara and a pair of canvas lace-up summer pumps. Merciful the shirt was a man’s and almost served as a short skirt, almost not quite, and her spank-sore behind kept peeking from under the hem as she walked.

It had been a miserable evening and supper had been taken standing up poking at her food with a reluctant fork. She had absolutely no appetite. A good sound spanking often had that effect on a girl, Barbara had grinned.

Benedict had had no such trouble and had eaten every scrap of his home cooked meal.

“You sound as if you speak from experience,” he had said with a wink.

Barbara had had the good grace to blush. And then with a rueful smile and a shrug she said, “In my college days and after, we got up to quite a few stunts I can tell you. That woodshed has seen more action than I care to remember. Some summers that wall has seen a line of well-spanked hinnies lined up to ponder on their crimes.” Then with a significant glance at Sophie she added, “A fair few of them were over 21 too.”

Then Benedict had glared at her.

“Speaking of which, if you are going to play with your food then a while in the corner will serve you right,” he said.

Sophie had gaped at him miserably and then to everyone’s surprise had said, “Yes Sir.”

The misery hadn’t ended there, before breakfast and at Benedict’s request, Barbara had given Sophie the shirt in lieu of her clothes and had taken out back to show her where to cut the best switches.

“Something of a tradition around here,” she said sympathetically, “So I suggested it to Mr Benedict.”

Gee thanks, she thought bitterly. But she had only muttered, “Yes Ma’am.”

Scrabbling around in the woods with her tail in the breeze had been a mortifying experience, but at least now she was resigned to it.

If only I had listened to Ophelia, she thought bitterly. She cast a glance at Benedict who was waiting for by the woodshed door. The men from the ranch weren’t due back until after lunch, Barbara had told her, so she was keen to get it over with. Not that the presence of a lot if hairy cowpokes was going to deter Benedict, she was certain of that.

As she got to the woodshed she tugged at the shirt in front and blushed scarlet with shame.

“You spanked me already Mr Benedict, can’t we let it go at that,” she wheedled.

He sighed and cocked his head on one side as if to say, “Really?”

“I know, I know,” she groaned, “I still got it coming.”

Inside the shed were a saw-trestle and a low bench. On the bench was the fruit of that morning’s search for switches and a sorority type paddle that Benedict had brought with him. In addition he opted for the Harley family’s razor strop in preference to his own. It was a broad heavy length of leather that carried a sheen from decades of use on Harley bottoms. This she had learned over breakfast.

“Okay, what’s the dope?” she had asked to put a brave face on things. “I mean, how are we going to do this?”

She was still half naked and had never set so uncomfortably for a meal. Not least because her bottom still ached from the previous day’s spanking.

“If you want to get this over with, after breakfast we can head out to the woodshed,” Benedict told her, “Otherwise we can wait until after the midday meal.”

“Eh no, Mr Benedict… I’ll take it this morning please.”

Me and my big mouth, she thought ruefully as she looked at the trestle.

“The strap is what was ordered for the stunt you pulled. The rest is extra on account of you fleeing justice. Since I spanked you already I may go easy with the paddle after, but you’re getting a healthy dose of strop and then I am going to use those switches right up,” he told her. “Now over you go.”

Sophie nodded and walked like dead-girl walking to the crosspiece of the trestle. Then just before she bent over and offered him her bare bottom she said in a meek voice, “I’m sorry Mr Benedict. For last night I mean, I know you are just doing your job.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said encouragingly.

Sophie turned and with a heavy sign bent right over. It was a scandal she thought as she tucked her thighs tight together, I wonder if he thinks I’m cute.

There was the longest pause and she shifted uneasily over the wooden crosspiece. It felt hard and heavy on her belly as it took her weight. She tried to focus on the planking of the floor, her eyes rolling in her head.

The first swat of the strop seared like a flame and she yelled. Cry baby, she chided herself, but what had begun like a slice of hell really seized her attention and it felt as if a million billion ants were nibbling on her tail.

“Oh Jesus H…” the rest of her curse was lost in a spluttered growl.

In less than a minute three more strokes blasted down and her cries could be heard all the way to the house. One for the money, two for the road, three to get ready and go… she spluttered a sob as the mantra ran through her head …cat, go, she bawled at the fifth sting-making, bottom burning, soul-rending…

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh,” she wailed over and over.

I’ll never sit down again, not ever, and it’s my own fault.

Benedict had seen some bottoms in his time. But not only were none as curvy and damned angelic as Sophie Weizmann’s, but rarely had he seen one that took the colour so well. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for her as she bawled and sobbed over the trestle, but he couldn’t deny she had it coming. At the last, neither had she.

He didn’t count the strokes but went on instinct. These things had a rhythm to them, a natural communication between punisher and bottom. It was rare that he didn’t reach a mutual understanding in these matters.

Maybe there had been 30 splats of leather on bottom, maybe more, but finally he decided that she had enough. The switches would wait until she pulled herself together, he decided.

“Alright now, you took it well, now let’s have you in the corner for 20 or 30 minutes while your bottom cools off,” he soothed.

“Yes Sir,” she said, her voice on the edge of another cascade of tears.

*

Once Barbara had heard the yelling subside she took a jug of lemonade from the kitchen and carried it down with a couple of glasses. She wasn’t surprised to see Sophie in the corner of the woodshed lost in tears.

“Thought you could use a break,” she said as she handed him a glass.

He took it with a nod and drank it down in one.

“When you’re done here, you’re welcome to use the parlour or the porch for our miscreant here to plant her nose for a while,” Barbara said pointedly.

He cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

“The rest of the folks won’t mind when they get back. They are used to it around here,” she explained.

“You mean for some corner time?” he said as the penny dropped.

“Oh please, Mr Benedict I would die,” Sophie wailed.

“You be quiet miss, you could stand being taken down a peg and you know it,” Barbara scolded her. “Never did me or any of mine any harm.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Sophie said miserably.

When would this day ever end? she thought miserably, although deep down she knew that part of it never would.

Benedict ran an eye down Sophie’s ravaged sore bottom and considered.

“I’ll bear it in mind Mrs Harley,” Benedict said thoughtfully.

“Barbara, you can call me Barbara,” the woman replied.

“Alright Miss Weizmann, let us finish this justice adjustment with a little switching,” he

*

The switching had been bad, bad enough so that she had been so grateful when it was over, that having a good cry with her hands on her head facing the porch wall had been a release. Mercifully the men and a couple of the wives had not gotten in until close to nightfall and by then Sophie was out of the corner and standing drinking lemonade at the kitchen table.

“Oh aren’t you a pretty thing,” Ellen-Mae, Barbara’s cousin-in-law gushed when she saw Sophie standing there. “Have you been in the wars?”

“I was… a little out of line is all,” Sophie said politely, but she couldn’t help blushing.

Barbara had given her a loose skirt to wear with the gingham shirt directly she had been released from the corner, but under it her bare bottom throbbed furiously and putting her panties on had been unthinkable.

“Did our Barbara give you a spanking?” Ellen-Mae asked as if she were enquiring after Sophie’s health.

Sophie blushed and shifted uncomfortably.

“No ma’am, that particular chore was mine,” Benedict said as he came forward to greet the newcomers.

Ellen-Mae saw Sophie’s embarrassment and winced sympathetically.

“Hush my mouth, you ignore me, it’s done with now,” she whispered against the hope that everyone else hadn’t heard; not that it wasn’t obvious Sophie had been spanked with one look at her. “Barbara, Rachel and I have all been there girl,” she added conspiratorially.

“How long are you staying Sir?” Ellen-Mae’s husband Chuck asked to forestall his wife from saying anything else out of turn.

“Oh, I’ll be heading out tomorrow,” Benedict told him.

“Can I get a ride with you?” Sophie said shyly.

“You sure you want to?” Benedict was surprised by her request.

“I haven’t exactly got a lot of choices,” she shrugged. “Maybe you could drop me at Santa Fe and the train?”

“You could always stay here honey,” Barbara cut in, “I could always use a hand with things.”

Sophie blinked. She had assumed that Barbara didn’t like her. She felt an unfamiliar warm glow at the invitation. But it was too good to be true; life was never like that for her.

“Oh, I couldn’t put you out, besides I ought to check in with Ophelia, we can compare bruises,” Sophie said ruefully.

He nodded. What would she do? he wondered. He couldn’t help thinking that devoid of guidance she would pull another stunt soon enough and this time would end up with more than a spanking. Still it wasn’t his problem, he told himself.

“If you’re sure honey,” Barbara said doubtfully, “I suppose I couldn’t make any promises about woodshed time at that and it might be a mite hard on your rear end.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t sustain a bad attitude and when Barbara laughed she had to join in.

The rest of the afternoon settled down to a good natured party that went on well into the night. It gave Sophie a glimpse of a life she had never really known and was the closest she had come since the divorce to being happy.

*

The next morning it was with slow careful steps that Sophie walked to the car. The previous night she had slept on her tummy and, from the welts and bruises that marred her still-swollen bottom, she figured that she would be doing so for a few days to come.

“What do we owe you ma’am… eh… Barbara?” Benedict asked as he came onto the porch.

“Oh, you’re family now, you just come and see us again sometime,” Barbara poo-pooed him.

“If you’re sure,” Benedict said reluctantly and tipped his hat at her.

Sophie stood by the car and eyed the seat warily; it was going to be a long ride. She looked back at the house and Barbara with an empty feeling as if she had lost something.

“You know as a field agent I don’t get to New York too much,” Benedict said as he got to his side of the car. “But I am always getting out here to Denver and Santa Fe, all over the South West really or I will be from now on. If you did stay, then… I could use this place as a base maybe… and we…”

Sophie sucked in her cheeks and looked longingly at the house. It wasn’t just the family she had found there she would miss, it was where she had found… she glanced shyly at Benedict and away again. This was crazy horse, she thought. Then she looked at the front seat of the Packard.

“You know, that was quite a work out you gave me. I don’t think I could sit down for the rest of the month maybe…?” she blushed.

Barbara, who had appeared to be too far off on the porch grinned and crossed the lot in a heartbeat.

“Come on honey, your room is still waiting,” she said as she grabbed Sophie’s bag, and then with coy smile at the two of them she added, “I’ll leave you two to say your goodbyes.”

Sophie opened her mouth to call back but Benedict grabbed and whirled her around for a kiss.

“See you girl,” he winked, “I’ll swing by next week, see that you behave yourself. Switched at school, paddled at home, you hear,” he added cryptically.

Sophie blushed. She might have said ‘you wouldn’t dare,’ but she knew that he would. But Barbara had already warned her that her bottom would be in the firing line if she stayed and Benedict for one, it seemed, thought she was serious. I must be crazy, she sighed. But it was already too late as the car slipped out of the yard and onto the track to the highway.

Further adjustment.



15 Responses to “The Justice Adjustment”

  1. like story just thought of young naughty women { over 21} being asked to cut a switch makes me clench my bottom! i have been switched and given it!

    • 2 DJ

      We are all down with the over 21s – so don’t spare us details if you are so inclined. 😉

  2. 3 paul1510

    Damian,
    great stuff, loved it. 😉
    Paul.

  3. 6 Raffe

    Nice ending, but a city girl will get bored and then get into a lot of trouble in the country. She shouldn’t have stayed.

  4. Really well done! I just wrote about the first part of this story and I might have called you a tease because I’m behind and I didn’t realize this was up already. Whoops. 😉

    Also, in my experience, switches aren’t as bad as they seem. But maybe I just haven’t quite gotten enough.

    • 9 DJ

      Thanks Red Bottomed girl – I should link to you maybe.

      I don’t usually do Tumblr for various reasons – but yours does seem to be a conventional blog that just happens to have that host.

      I think it depends on the type of switch. An 18″ apple switch cut as thick as a finger is as near as dammit a cane – but I heard of grass switches that impart a small sting for more junior persons – different thing I think.

  5. “Further adjustments pending” has to be one of the best closing lines ever. 🙂

    • 11 DJ

      I don’t want to be a hostage to fortune in what are stand alone stories – but I feel there is one or perhaps two more scenes to play out. Furthermore the Justice Adjustment Office has potential for a whole range of quick shorts. 🙂

  6. was wondering do we in the uk have an usa eqvalant of the woodshed where women get a hard spankings? or is it a very cultural thing?

    • 13 DJ

      Well I can’t think of one.

      I think the US has had more formal spanking arrangements historically that UK doesn’t have. It is probably an issue of a) being a more rural culture compared with the UK and b) having more space to have such an out building. By formal arrangements I was also thinking of sororities and (the albeit largely fictional) ritual spankings for young grown-up women.

      Of course the reality of this may well be brutal and unacceptable (or not – I don’t want that debate here) but we deal in fantasy icons among consenting adults. But some imagery is compelling and dedicated spaces such as a bum room or woodshed whose very names invokes a spanking time and place is uniquely American.

      Of course we have other icons such as the English Vice or Public Schools – but both in their own ways are less personal and intimate I think.

      But you ask an interesting question – that I leave to others to take up. 🙂

  7. 14 Richard

    Not the ending that i expected but very good can’t let girls get into trouble even the bratty ones need some love now and then

  8. 15 saram

    Is this a hard boiled spanking story? I love it, and I think you do Chandler proud!


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