In the Service of the Wolf (part xxi)


wolf21Part I here

Marsha MacLeod took a deep breath and screwed up her face. It was so unfair, how was she to know that the Stone twins were running a scam; and how come she had to be on duty when they did? What about Danson, he was supposed to be in charge when Adam and John pulled their little stunt? Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted a movement and her heart leapt. It was nothing, just someone passing by. The gods she hated the open-sided barn, anyone passing could see her. Not that there was anyone to see, she thanked small mercies, not yet anyway.

When Garrick had asked her to meet him in the barn she knew she was in for it. She had hardly slept a wink and at breakfast her usual healthy appetite had deserted her.

She tried to console herself with the idea that it could be worse. She could be outside the barn with her strides and panties around her ankles facing the barn wall for the edification of everyone. It had happened and more than once, although that indignity was usually reserved for the younger girls. Just girls, she thought, the men got a bull whip or a fist, if it ever came to that. Worse she supposed, but damn sexist. Some traditions died hard. Even in the privacy of her head she convinced herself that she would have preferred that option. A spanking was so… so embarrassing. She blushed as she remembered her last run in with Augusta. That hadn’t been so very long ago, but at least it had been in private. It had been years since she had earned Garrick’s wrath.

More footfalls outside made her jump and she edged over to the open side of the barn and peeked around at the compound. Times Square had less people in it. Her heart sank. Even if they didn’t wander round to the shed area to watch everyone would hear everything. Marsha groaned and ran nervous fingers through her thick wayward blonde hair. I am damn well 30-years-old, she cursed the world. It is so unfair, what did I do?

No one ever listened to her, not even when she pointed out what other people were doing wrong. No one ever took her seriously. She got blamed for everything, those damn twins, why didn’t they… she kicked the side of the barn and snarled through her teeth in frustration.

Maybe she should go and do some chores. Obviously Garrick was a no-show, too busy maybe. Maybe he forgot? She had been there hadn’t she? Marsha seriously wondered if such a move could work. She had tried it on with grandma many times, especially as she had gotten older. Her heart sank at the memory. It had never worked then.

Grandma was long gone but in Marsha’s memory the lines of the switch on her bare bottom lived on.

“I am darn near 21 Grandma, Grandma, you can’t do this,” she remembered the last time, or one the last times. Her denims and panties had already be forfeited, as she remembered, a battle already lost. I was such a dumb kid; Marsha smiled, lost in time for a merciful second.

A switching back home meant stripping down first and then fetching a two or three long springy apple switches from the back yard. Hell to pay if the neighbours’ kids were about: especially at 20. Then there was Cousin Lou who still helped Grandma with the farm. He usually got see everything as did any other family, friend or casual visitor.

Two minutes into a session with Grandma Marsha had no longer cared. By then her butt was so welted and blistered that she was hollering for divine intervention. How Grandma kept it up so very long without breaking skin the gods only knew.

The real shame had come later: nose to the porch wall, sobbing fit to burst and with a fire-sore bare bottom cooling in the breeze. Mockery was not allowed, but Marsha had still had to suffer insincere sympathy describing her humiliation and comments like, ‘she has a bottom like a relief map of the Blue Ridge Mountains.’ All while Grandma, Lou and anyone else around sat on the porch nearby drinking coffee to talk over the wickedness of the young and just punishments. That is if they did not ignore her entirely.

Feeling strangely nostalgic, Marsha shook her head and smiled.

“Is something funny?” Garrick asked as he strolled into the barn.

“No Sir,” Marsha gasped, taking hold of her heart as she startled.


Stacy had watched Garrick cross the yard with purpose and nudged Alice. “I wonder where he is going,” she said to her friend, “maybe it has something to do with us.”

Alice levelled her gaze and then shrugged.

“Come on let’s follow him,” Stacy said eagerly.

“We’ll be seen,” Alice protested.

Stacy made a face as if Alice was being wet and took her arm. “We will make a wide turn of the yard and come out behind the sheds over by the barn. We won’t make it obvious and we might learn something. Besides, what if we are seen? No one said we couldn’t.”

Alice frowned and not having anything better to do she complied. Arm in arm two ladies went for a stroll.

Meanwhile in the barn Garrick was staring down Marsha and chewing her out with his eyes. “So why did you let Adam and John through the gates last night?” he eyed the 30-year-old blonde and tried to see her as anything but an errant teen. She certainly filled her pants out well and was no skinny kid. He looked her over and weighed her up. From the way she carried herself, juxtaposition to her make-up and hair, she was still trying to decide if she was all woman or one of the guys. He knew many in the pack like her.

At a head shorter, Marsha had to look up and racked her brains for a response. “There you’re sons, I thought, I mean… they said…” she mumbled.

“They said, what had I said? If you are too stupid to follow a simple instruction like ‘let no one out,’ then why didn’t you ask Danson?” he growled.

Marsha opened her mouth and closed it again. “He wasn’t around,” she offered lamely.

“He was doing his job,” Garrick said, “Wasn’t he?”

Marsha looked down and felt like a teen. “I guess,” she muttered.

“Look at me when I am talking and don’t mumble,” Garrick snarled.

Marsha jerked to attention and tried to meet his eyes. Instantly she looked away to the side and winced. “I’m sorry,” she offered.

Garrick visibly relaxed and shook his head paternally. “Are you?” He sounded genuinely impressed. “Why?”

“I let your sons out, I know now that I shouldn’t,” she said hopefully.

Garrick’s eyes narrowed incredulously and for a second he couldn’t find the words. Then he said in exasperation, “We’ll obviously, but you should have known that before you let them through.”

“I did,” Marsha protested, “I mean… I thought it would be okay, I know now that it wasn’t and I am sorry.”

“You know now or you knew then, which is it? You keep saying you’re sorry, but why are you sorry?” Garrick pressed her.

Marsha didn’t understand and fell back on chewing her lip as she had when her Grandmother had scolded her. “I guess I am sorry for screwing up,” she suggested.

Garrick looked to heaven and sighed. “What if it happens again?” he said wearily.

“It won’t, honest it won’t,” Marsha blurted.

“And what if they need to get out, as evidently they did last night?” he pressed her.

Marsha gaped and looked up into his face trying to read him. It was a terrifying visage, even though she sensed he was trying to cut her some sort of break. “Eh…” she proffered.

“You screwed up, how?” he asked her again.

Marsha swallowed. “I let them out and you said…” she squeaked before tailing off.

“Why did you let them out? Were you trying to piss me off?” Garrick suggested.

“No,” she blurted, “No Sir, I… I thought I would get into trouble if I didn’t.”

Garrick nodded. “There we have it,” he said. “Scared of whom, certainly not me?”

“I didn’t know what to do?” she whined.

Garrick’s nostrils flared and he turned away to make a small circuit of the barn.

Marsha’s mouth was dry and her heart was pounding. She would rather a spanking from Augusta than this inquisition. She made a dumb mistake, what did he want her to say?

“Marsha, how old are you?” he said almost conversationally.

“I’m 30,” she sounded almost proud.

“Thirty? Going on 13 maybe,” he sighed. God he was getting old, he thought. She looked hardly out of high school to his mind.

Marsha blushed.

“Alright,” Garrick said finally, his hands began to unbuckle his belt and pull it through the loops on his pants. “You think about what you did wrong and let me know. Meanwhile let’s get this over with.”

Marsha’s eyes darted in panic and she felt her palms and her bottom itch.

“Sir?” she played dumb.

“Drop your pants and panties and get your tail end over that rail,” he said, nodding at an old saw horse often used for what he had in mind.

Marsha worked her mouth for some moisture and thought about pointing out she was a woman grown. Not that she felt like it just then.

“I said…” Garrick was losing his patience with this girl-woman.

Marsha started and hastily began scrambling with the button on her pants. Then without any regard to exposing her sex she hauled both denims and panties down together. It took a moment to realise that now she was fully exposed and still 10 feet from the trestle. Garrick folded his now removed belt and turned away shaking his head at her incompetence.

Marsha was mortified and stopped to half pull up her pants as she hobbled over to the vertical on the trestle. With her dignity in shreds she bent over until her bottom was sky high and well rounded.

“Ready Sir,” she said with a gulp. Her face was melting and she squeezed her thighs together in the hope that she was just showing him her bottom.

Garrick turned and hefted his belt. “If it wasn’t for the lock down I would treat you like my own daughter and send you as you are out to the woods to go get a bundle of switches. Nothing like an old finger stick across a belt-reddened tail for an older girl who will not take responsibility.”

Marsha gaped in horror at the suggestion and visibly swallowed. “Yes Sir,” she said feebly, for once giving praise to the gods for the hunters.

“Marsha MacLeod, you got this coming,” he sighed, “While you’re getting it I want you to think on what I said. It may save some tail skin if you can work out what the Sam Hill you have to apologise for.”

Marsha’s apprehension cranked up a gear and her mouth formed a perfect horrified O. She had assumed the punitive philosophy was over and she was just in for a licking. What did he want her to say?

“Marsha, Marsha, Marsha,” Garrick sighed and expertly lashed his belt down.

Outside Stacy and Alice heard a yelp of pain. The heavy leathery thwack that went with it was no mystery to either of them now and they broke into a trot to track down the source. It didn’t take long. Beyond the sheds was an open sided barn and in it was Garrick and one of the women. Only she was bare bottomed and bending over a trestle. Alice gasped.

“Now that is some bottom,” Stacy wolf whistled softly.

“He is spanking her,” Alice whispered in a tone that suggested horrified wonder. She remembered the twins and blushed.

“That’s one way to put it,” Stacy agreed in equally hushed tones.

Inside Marsha yelled out again, this time with feeling.

To be continued

4 Responses to “In the Service of the Wolf (part xxi)”

  1. Love the dynamic here…so paternal!

  2. 3 Bill Black

    I love this series. Glad you could get back to it. I’m not much of a fantasy lover but your excellent writing has really hooked me.

    Thank you

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