In the Service of the Wolf (part xxxiv)



Part I here

Stacy ambled over towards the barn as if out for a stroll. Outwardly she looked every inch the confident New Yorker, a trick largely achieved by the inner conviction that she was a grown woman who was not going to cooperate with whatever Garrick had in mind. This lie was good one and helped her ignore the tumble-turning in her tummy and the lack of moisture in her mouth. It was the first sight of the barn that made her stop and consider making another break for the fence. She made a frog-lipped pout and then one last popping sound. Who the hell did he think he was?

Without considering the question further she picked up the pace and strode to the rendezvous. She was old enough to know that Garrick would not be there yet and would make her wait, but she decided it would be more diplomatic not to test that theory.

The barn was a big one and half open on one side. There may have been doors folded back out of sight but Stacy barely considered this. The place was a damn open plan woodshed and at best only semi-private. Stacey swallowed hard. She had a sudden vision of being put across Garrick’s knee like a child and spanked where everyone could see. Heat coloured her cheeks.

“You gotta see Garrick too eh?” a nervous voice asked.

Stacy turned and saw the girl who had spoken leaning against the wall inside the door. She was olive-skinned with long black hair and had curves to die for. The woman could not have been much more than 20, but from her sad-eyed demeanour she looked somehow younger and reminded the little writer of a girl caught stealing cookies.

“I…” Stacy began, she had been about to claim some pending grown-up encounter with the pack leader but something about the innocent posture of the young woman made a lie unworthy. “It looks that way,” she finished.

“What did you do?” the Latina girl asked anxiously.

Stacy found some bravado and managed a smile. “I kind of tried to skip town,” she said.

“Ouch,” the girl said and made a sympathetic wincey face.

Stacy shrugged, “You?” she shot back.

“I was late with my chores and then during gun practice I got over excited and accidentally fired a stray round,” the girl said ruefully, adding at a gush, “God, I nearly killed Mr Danson.”

“And that is a bad thing?” Stacey said, remembering the bossy gate guard.

The girl giggled. “Lana, my name that is,” she gave Stacey a little wave, but didn’t move from leaning on the barn wall.

“Stacy Lane,” Stacy said tersely and gave a nod.

“Oh I know who you are,” Lana gushed and then not knowing what else to say she looked down.

“That figures,” Stacy sighed. “What is the deal here anyway?”

Lana looked up and eyed the older woman. “We’re gonna get a whopping, you know that right?”

Stacy took a deep breath, “Yeah, I sort of got that impression.” Then she folded her arms defensively and rounded on the girl. “Aren’t you mad, I mean, aren’t you too old to get a spanking?”

“A spanking? If I was just going to get a spanking I would have been sent to Augusta and if I didn’t think I deserved one before I went over her knee I sure in hell would think so by the time she was done with me. Augusta kind has that way about her, you know,” Lana’s short outburst tailed off into wistfulness. Then she added, “About now I would kinda settle for that. No I am not too old, not in these parts; leastways my folks wouldn’t think so. Look there is no point in talking big around here. I am just a kid.” She shrugged. Then asked, “You ever been spanked? By Augusta I mean?”

Stacy blushed. “Yeah,” she admitted, “I suppose I know what you mean. I kind of felt the same when Garrick spanked me too.” The sudden realisation startled her, as did her open admission to this girl.

Lana gaped in wonder. “Are you kin?” she asked. “I mean Garrick never… well rarely, I mean… sorry, not my beeswax. I guess you aren’t too old then.”

Stacy hated the comparison. “I am kind of older than you,” she protested.

“Last year my cousin Maria answered Augusta back,” Lana made a face, “She is 27. Ask her if she is too old for a spanking.”

Stacy laughed. The revelation was oddly comforting. “What is a whopping then, as you call it?”

“You never got a…?” Lana gaped.

“I am a city girl, we don’t go in for these charming country customs,” Stacy said.

Missing the sarcasm Lana just continued to gape. “Look girlfriend, you best get ready to say goodbye to the skin on your ass and get resigned to the fact that you won’t be sitting down for the rest of the week. Maybe longer,” she grimaced, “Although maybe that is just me. I figure shooting a gun may be just a little… oh God.”

“This is not your first… run in with Garrick then?” Stacy asked.

Lana relaxed. “Hell no, me and Keri… you know,” she shrugged.

“You lived then,” Stacy snorted, wondering if the girl wasn’t exaggerating.

“Yah,” Lana sighed, and then offering a sympathetic smile she added, “And so will you.”

Stacy made a pout and then let her lips release with a pop. Then she too walked to the barn wall and leaned with her back to it. Then they both fell silent until the stillness of the barn began to feel tangible. Outside there were shouts and the sounds of ranch life, but the world beyond seemed disjointed somehow, like the two of them existed in a bubble and had become the only two people in their own little world.

Stacy scanned the barn and marvelled at the zillion dust particles that hung suspended in the sunlight pouring through the one high window. The air smelled sweet like fresh hay mixed with corn but there was under odour of pine wood and leather. She looked at the objects hanging on the barn wall and tried to fathom their uses, quickly avoiding dwelling on any strap like trappings or lengths of wood resembling canoe paddles.

There was a bench in the corner and a couple of trestles, for cutting wood she guessed, but one had sackcloth wrapped around the cross piece, which formed some form of padding. She looked away. On one wall were axes, saws and other tools and somewhere in that direct Stacy could smell oil. She sighed.

“What’s it like?” she said at last.

“What, a whopping?” Lana replied.

“No,” Stacy said, “The other thing.”

Lana looked puzzled and frowned.

“Having a wolf inside you I mean,” Stacy explained.

Lana’s puzzlement grew and she looked away as if she were thinking. She shrugged. “I turned when I was 15, but I always knew I would, or I hoped I would. Both my folks… well it was no big deal in our family. But I dunno, never thought about it before. I wonder what it is like not having the blood.”

Stacy breathed through her mouth and wondered if she even knew anymore.

“I heard you were one of us too. Least that’s what they are saying. Is that true?” Lana asked.

Just then a heavy footfall announced Garrick’s arrival and both girls straightened up. Stacy noticed that Lana blanched a little a licked her lips nervously.

“So ladies, are you ready to be taken to task?” the pack leader asked paternally and stretched his gaze between them. He beckoned to Lana and indicated that she should go stand next to Stacy.

“Yes sir, I guess,” Lana replied as she complied with his silent order.

“Look,” Stacy began.

Garrick swivelled his eyes to fix on her with a hard stare. “Miss Dane?” he said.

“I don’t want to be here, I didn’t ask to be here and I see no reason…” Stacy continued.

“I don’t want to be here,” Garrick said sharply. “Not in this barn, not in this situation, which I might add you help start and certainly not here dealing with a new cub who doesn’t know which end to shit from.”

Lana looked horrified at this vulgarism and shot a look of pity at Stacy.

“Fate picked me, fate picked you. You are here. I have to deal with that and you have to deal with that. While you are here you obey my rules,” Garrick snapped. His ire seemed directed at both of them now.

“I could just leave,” Stacy wailed.

Garrick rounded on her. “And do what? Run to the hunters, try and make it on your own… in New York?”

“I managed so far,” Stacy replied, now with little conviction.

“Have you? Then what are you doing here bringing the hunters down on us? No Miss Dane you have not managed so far. Your whole adult life, and I use that term loosely, you have been chasing your tail. You have been living some kind of double life where one existence has been denied, while the other endlessly searches for the truth. Look around you, you have found it,” Garrick’s voice didn’t waver, but at the last he sounded weary. “How many times must you I tell you?”

Stacy glowered at him, half hearing and half screaming in protest inside.

“Look, let me put it this way. You are what you are and you are here. I either have to protect you and bring you in or I have to treat you like a renegade. You live or you die. It is that simple. Living means falling into line, for now anyway.” Garrick spoke like a man standing at the end of a road.

Stacy nodded. “So you’re the boss, what now?” She sounded defiant.

Garrick sighed. That would do; for the moment anyway. “Now ladies, you drop your pants and panties.” As he spoke he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops on his pants.

Lana looked at Stacy and swallowed hard. “Yes Sir,” she replied and half bent to obey.

Stacy grimaced. She thought about making a run for it, but that was futile. I have to get out of here, she thought. Then like Lana, she began to take her pants down.

To be continued




2 Responses to “In the Service of the Wolf (part xxxiv)”

  1. Never thought I’d be interested in werewolves but this story is gripping.congratulations.

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