In the Service of the Wolf (part xxxv)



Part I here

By the time Stacy’s pants and panties were around her ankles she saw that that Lana too was standing in a puddle of denim, her face sour red and apprehensive. The writer took a moment to look around for any sign that anyone was watching, but at the moment no one is in the immediate vicinity. Still that did not help her feel any less exposed. She caught Lana’s eye in the hopes of the comfort of comradeship.

Garrick had moved across the barn floor and was hauling the sack-padded trestle away from the wall with one hand. No sooner had he set it square facing the open barn then he beckoned to Lana.

“You know why you are here,” he said.

“Augusta was pissed that I overslept,” Lana mumbled.

“No doubt she was,” Garrick said in an amused voice, “But if that was the only reason you were here then Augusta would have dealt with you herself, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes Sir,” Lana agreed and looked at the ground.

“So why are you here?” Garrick asked again.

Stacy looked around again and wished the man would get it over with. At any moment someone might come by or even have business in the barn. She was standing around with her pants down and her naked butt hanging in the breeze. Her hands clamped firmly to her sex and she shrank into herself a little more.

Lana was stuttering out answers to Garrick’s questions. “I accidentally fired a shot in practice,” she was mumbling again.

“You want to give me any excuses about that?” Garrick looked at his watch.

“No Sir,” Lana whispered.

“Over you go,” he sighed.

Lana shuffled forward until her hips were level with the trestle top and then she flopped over it so that her bare bottom was pointing at the roof.

“Grip the lower crosspiece with your hands and keep your legs together,” Garrick told her. He looked away as she complied and wondered at the shamelessness of the young, didn’t she get how exposed she was down there. His own sisters had known how to be demure when woodshed time came around. Although he remembered fondly hiding in the hayloft while his Pa dealt with them. You could hear the caterwauling clear up the valley once Pa got started. He could swear a leathered bare bottom was redder in those days.

He had been too young when war had come to the North, but with brothers and brother-in-law in the army it had been left to Pa to handle the womenfolk. It had been quite an education for a teenaged boy, but he hadn’t appreciated what a chore it had been for his father.

“You ready?” Garrick asked once Lana was done fidgeting.

“Yes Sir,” she answered in a muffled voice.

Lana’s bottom was hardly white and there was scarcely a tan line. If he didn’t know better he would swear she had been sunbathing nude, but he guessed skinny dipping might account for it. In any case that was Augusta’s business. He did note that the girl had Spanish heritage, with full round hips and a heroic bottom. Half these Mex girls had native blood he knew, it made them tough. Tougher still was the curse and she would heal right enough.

His belt landed across her hips with a heavy crack and she grunted. He waited for a light band of red to form before swiping her bottom with another lash of leather. This time her gasp was more pained.

Stacy felt strangely elated as she watched and her hand strayed to her bottom and cupped it. She looked again for any audience and saw no one. She could feel the impacts from where she stood.

Eight or nine strokes in Lana’s bare bottom looked sore and there were the soft blisters at the edge of the impact zone. Lana herself gave out with a throaty growl at each lash, but otherwise she was taking it well.

Stacy wondered how many and if she would get more or less. Her fingers studied her bottom, contrasting the cool white with the hot red of Lana’s bottom. Then she saw one of the men pausing in the yard outside and she blushed. His eyes were on Lana’s tail but when he saw Stacy looking he winked and strolled away. Stacy’s face blushed as hot as Lana’s bottom.

Then the Latina girl shrieked, the edge of the belt had bitten hard that time. Stacy guessed that was 20 or so at least. No wonder the girl was crying.

Lana’s bottom was on fire and she had begun to squirm and kick. She had hoped to be braver in front of the outsider, but she guessed Garrick was determined to skin her pride along with her ass.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as another lash blasted her bottom.

“Hurts, does it, as much as a bullet to the head?” Garrick scolded. “How many times do you need to be told?”

Lana rode the burn as snot and tears rolled down her face. She had it coming, she guessed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed.

“When we are done here,” Garrick said, “And that may take some time, you will apologise to Danson. You can tell him he has my blessing to turn you over his knee too if he has a mind to.”

“Yes Sir,” Lana sobbed.

As Stacy watched, she licked her lips, only half in apprehension and swung around to see if anyone else was watching. A young woman hurried across the yard, but she didn’t so much as a glance. Then she looked back at Lana’s sore bottom.

The blisters were prominent now and the red had turned ruddier on Lana’s darker flesh. She hadn’t been counting, but the number of lashes must have topped 30 or more. Lana was sobbing hard and her legs kicked and splayed with every stroke.

“Not sure we are done here, but for now you can stand up,” Garrick said.

Lana didn’t move but just flopped over the trestle and bawled like a spanked teen.

“Come on,” Garrick said gently and put his arm on her shoulder.

This time Lana eased herself to her feet and sniffed as she wiped her eyes.

“Thank you Sir,” she said miserably.

Garrick nodded and then turned to Stacy. “Right, your turn,” he said.

Stacy took a deep breath and half a step forward. She took another glance for an audience, strangely her biggest concern just then, and seeing no one she felt suddenly curious. It was hard to walk with her pants still around her ankles but she managed it and all too soon she felt the coarse sackcloth scrub her lower belly.

“Over you go,” Garrick told her.

Stacy gulped and shot the man a look of apprehension. Then with a heavy dejected sigh she obeyed and her world turned upside down, both figuratively and literally.

Watching, Lana was still crying and trying to get her breath under control. Her bottom was scorched like a son-of-a-bitch and she hoped from foot to foot in the parody of a dance while her hands clawed at her bottom as she tried to shake out the sting. Garrick had said they were done, but for now, holding out the possibility that she and him would go round two. That ongoing possibility dampened her sense of relief.

Had it not been for that she might have enjoyed the sight of the older woman ass up over the trestle. She was certainly envious of the smaller pert tightness of New Yorker and she compared it to Keri’s, the only other bottom she had regularly seen in similar circumstances.

In any case it was hard not to enjoy Stacy’s predicament just a little, seeing the high and mighty city girl taken down a peg or two was almost worth getting a licking herself. Mixed with this was sympathy for the coming ordeal, knowing as she did that this was the woman’s first time. Lana sniffed, at last managing not to cry.

Garrick had yet to start thrashing Stacy and now stood behind her with his folded belt and contemplating the pert target presented to him. The girl was soft and neither of them was going to enjoy this, but she just wouldn’t learn.

“I tried being reasonable with you,” he said with a sigh. “I let you off with a spanking, when I should have brought you here from the first. I understand your confusion, I really do,” he sounded weary. “I don’t even blame you for Coleridge, not entirely. You didn’t know what you were doing. But running away and keep on running away is not helping anyone, least of all you. I wish I could bring you to this more slowly, guide you as my folks guided me, as I have others. We just don’t have the time; you saw to that when you called in the hunters. You have to stop defying me.”

Garrick moved closer. “So now I am going to make this very simple for you, you will stay here until this situation is resolved. While here you will obey our rules. You will learn that there are consequences.”

Stacy worked the dryness in her mouth. She had never felt so exposed and although she took comfort from Lana’s presence because she had not been singled out for humiliation, it was nonetheless embarrassing and she wished he would get on with it.

Still every word he said hit home. This had been all her fault. Coleridge had played her.

“Look I get it, I am sorry,” Stacy protested, “But…”

“If you were sorry then we wouldn’t be here,” Garrick cut her off. Then the strap came down with a will.

The crack was loud and sharp. Stacy could not believe how much hit hurt, she had never felt anything like it. “Oh Jesus Christ,” she exclaimed.

The fire burned across both bottom cheeks and low. She hated that she had to twist her bottom about, but she could not keep still.

The second lash burned worse and this time her yell was more incoherent.

“Oaky, okay,” she gasped, “I get it, no running away, keep to the rules, I get it.” She already panting hard the sting had taken on a life of its own.

Garrick didn’t respond. He brought the strap down again hard, this time curving under her bottom so that he seared the upper part of her thighs.

Stacy screamed. “Please, I get it,” she yelled angrily.

Garrick had heard it or so many, many times before. When Woodrow Wilson has been president, young women had sung much the same refrain. It was no different for the women of the Great Depression or when the bombs fell on Europe. These girls all thought they were different, wiser, more defiant of authority, all through the 1950s, 60s and onwards. They all knew it all. He struck again and to make a point followed it with another.

“Godandjesusinheaven,” Stacy gasped. “Please, no more, I understand.”

Stacy wondered if her bottom was actually on fire.

“Sure,” Garrick muttered and added another lash across the top of her bottom so that the band of red extended to the full length of her cleft. Then again right across main curves.

Stacy yelled out. “Please,” she whimpered. “I won’t do it again.”

Garrick brought the strap down again and then again and once more before changing his stance.

Stacy twisted a screamed, grinding into the harsh sackcloth as if that could distract her from the burn.

“I’m sorry,” she yelled angrily.

For the next two minutes Garrick delivered the swats in slow sets of three, perhaps a dozen, perhaps 15 lashes, he didn’t count. By then her bottom was a vivid red and standout welts framed the impact area as well as forming two donut pads on the crowns of her bottom, extending to where she sat. Then he paused.

Stacy was sobbing hard and her hips and bottom rose and fell with her breathing. Her tail was two spheres of fire and she knew in that moment she would do anything.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed and then snivelled. “Please no more, I’ll be good.” She sounded like a child.

“Think past pain, think about what you did,” Garrick said gently.

She had run. Not from the hunters, but from the whole crazy situation. If she could only get back to New York…

“Doesn’t hurt so much now, does it?” Garrick whispered.

He was right, it didn’t.

“I wouldn’t do this if you couldn’t take it,” he said. “What you feel is your denial.”

Stacy sobbed miserably and wondered what she could say to make this over.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Sorry you were caught, Garrick thought. “Are you going to obey me now?”

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed.

Lana was shocked that Stacy’s bottom looked so raw after what must have been half the strokes she had gotten. Maybe that was because she had a small butt, she thought. Also the older woman was such a cry baby; it really was her first time. Her sympathy evaporated, and she was jealous of the way Garrick spoke to her. It was pretty good pain control too, she had to admit. It was true then, she was one of them.

Garrick leaned down low and whispered to Stacy so that Lana could not hear. “I know you are still defying me,” he hissed, “That is alright, this is a hard road for you. However, honour dictates that I warn you. Next time you defy me or try to run, I will have you back here and you will think that this is mere bottom slapping. Please at least try to pretend, for your sake and the sake of others.”

Then he stood. In all justice he should give them both another round, but Stacy had had enough and her sin was as bad, if not worse than Lana’s. He thought about humbling them to the max and have stand with their noses to the outside wall facing the compound. It was just what they both needed to focus their regrets. However, the pack could do without the distraction.

“Alright, help her up. Both of you will face that wall,” he pointed at the back of the barn, “Until I send someone to collect you for your chores. Lana, where will your pants and panties be during this time?”

“Around our ankles Sir,” Lana said hastily.

“Good girl, the air will do you good,” he grinned. Then he strode away with his belt slung over his shoulder.

After Stacy was on her feet she began to hop about massaging her bottom. She wanted to cry again, but the fact that Lana was almost cheerful now curtailed that urge.

“Come on,” Lana groaned and stopped to pull her pants to her lower thighs. Then she walked to the wall. Before allowing her clothing to fall again she glances around to see if anyone was watching and then she turned to face the wall.

“What are you doing?” Stacy asked in consternation.

Lana looked around. “You heard the man, we have a time out,” she sighed.

“You’re kidding,” Stacy gaped.

“You heard him,” Lana insisted, she had a sudden rush of dread that Stacy was going to get them both into trouble.

Stacy had, but she hadn’t quite taken it in. She had seen others in the compound do the same, now it was her turn. She felt her face melt. She wasn’t a kid like Lana. She looked outside and hoped no one was looking. Then back at the trestle, no way was she ever going through that again. “Oh God,” she said wearily and bent down for pull up her things, but not all the way. Then she too hobbled over to stand next to Lana. “This is too much.”

“Isn’t it just,” Lana sighed.

Stacy felt such a fool, but all same she let her pants fall down and turned and faced the wall. “What if anyone sees?” she sighed.

“Oh they will,” Lana groaned, “They will. The supper table will be a bitch.”

To be continued…



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