The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3) (9 page)

Ambling into the kitchen he set the oven timer for ten minutes, and was pouring himself a mug of coffee when he thought he heard something near the back door. Moving quickly to the window he peered through the side of the curtain, and to his surprise he saw Sam had Amelia by the arm and was walking her back to the track that led to the barn.

Damn. She actually came up here to nosey around. Looks like I’ll be spankin’ you sooner than I thought, little lady.

Relieved that Sam had caught her in time, and still somewhat bewildered that Amelia would do such a thing, he moved back to the counter, grabbed his coffee, and picking up Anastasia’s bag where she’d dropped it on the floor, he settled on the couch to search out her phone.

Flipping through her text messages he wasn’t surprised to find topless photographs of herself, along with naked pictures of a man named Wayne. Dozens of sexy texts had passed between them, with Wayne doing his best to persuade her to ‘go all the way.’

There were also messages in which she boasted about it easy it was to sneak out her second story window, but the texts asking if he could score more weed were the most troubling.

None of this is good, but askin’ him to score weed? Damn! This has to come to a screechin’ halt!

Standing in the corner Anastasia was still coming to grips with Clint’s unexpected attack. Even though she’d heard stories about the cowboy and his ‘woodshed,’ she had thought he would just sit her down and scold her, and maybe smack her on the butt a couple of times. The crop had stung like crazy, and Clint Hogan had totally stunned her.

I have to find a way out of this. Shit. I’ll just agree with everything he says, like I do with dad. I just have to be really convincing.

It was at the same time that Amelia was spreading the stable blanket on top of the tack trunk, that the oven timer in the guest house sounded its bell, startling Anastasia and telling Clint the ten minutes was up.

Grabbing the ottoman where it lived by the wall, he moved it in front of the couch and sat back down.

“All right, Anastasia, you can drop your hands and come on over here”

Turning around she walked slowly towards him, spying the deadly crop on the couch and the ottoman in front of him.

What the fuck? Now what?

“Kneel in front of the ottoman, sideways to me,” he directed.

Nervously moving forward, doing her best to convince herself she could win the battle, she settled on her knees and looked over at him.

“Hands on the opposite side,” he instructed.

“Are you gonna whip me?” she asked, doing her best to sound scared and childlike.

“That depends on you,” he answered. “If you don’t do exactly what I say, and answer my questions honestly, yes. Now put your hands on the opposite edge of the ottoman like I asked,” he repeated, picking up the crop and resting it on her bottom.

Leaning forward she realized her backside was perfectly positioned for more punishment, and the nasty crop was already in place.

“So, let’s begin. Tell me, Anastasia, do you think you’re a kind, thoughtful, grateful daughter?”

“Not so much,” she frowned. “I try, but dad is so old-fashioned, and mom is a pain most of the time.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve been told you have a relatively high IQ, but you only manage C’s, sometimes even D’s,” he remarked. “Homework is always late, if it’s done at all, and you’ve had numerous suspensions for rowdy behavior. What do you have to say about that?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly, then added quickly, flashing him an earnest look, “but I’ll try and do better, I swear.”

“Let’s talk about boys for a minute,” he said, inwardly smiling at her futile attempt to appease him.

“Sure, whatever you want,” she nodded, still looking at him with innocent wide eyes.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, gently tapping the crop against her seat cheeks.

“No,” she replied lightly.

The strike of the crop was swift and hard, eliciting a howl of pain. Bolting upright she threw her hands behind her, clutching her bottom and staring at him in disbelief.

“What the fuck?” she gasped.

“You get to cuss just once, and that was it,” he said calmly. “Next time you get a strike.”

“Why, why did you hit me?” she whined.

“I told you I would if you didn’t tell me the truth. You lied, so you got the crop. It’s really very simple Anastasia. You can’t bullshit me, not even for a second, got it?”

Biting her lower lip she stared at him, then nodded her head.

“Good, now then, back over the ottoman and tell me about your boyfriend. What’s his name?”

“Wayne,” she mumbled, bending forward.

“And how old is Wayne?”

“Twenty-seven. He works at dad’s lumber yard.”

“That’s how you met him?”

“Yeah, but dad doesn’t know. He’d have a cow.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen, I’ll be eighteen in a month.”

“Don’t you think it would be reasonable for your father to be worried if he found out you were goin’ out with a man so much older than you, a man who works for him?” Clint asked.

“I guess,” she muttered.

“Do you drink or do drugs?” he asked, tapping the crop.

“I drink beer and wine, and smoke pot sometimes,” she whimpered.

“Sometimes? How often is sometimes?”

“I guess, every day or so,” she whispered.

“Good, you’re doing well. See, tellin’ the truth isn’t painful. Lyin’, though, lyin’ is painful. Where do you keep your stash?”

“In a shoebox under my other shoeboxes in my closet, but I only have a little bit left,” she confessed.

“When was the last time you snuck out of your room?”

“I, uh, how do you know all this stuff?” she blurted.

“Was that the answer to my question?” he warned.

“Two nights ago,” she said quickly.

“Good, you just narrowly avoided another strike. Now then, this is what’s going to happen,” he began pulling the phone from her bag.

“Hey,” she started, then immediately bit her lip.

“Wise choice,” he smiled. “First, we’re gettin’ rid of all these disgustin’ photographs of you and your boyfriend. Ever thought what would happen if your phone got stolen? Would you like naked pictures of yourself all over the internet for anyone to see?”

“N-no,” she stammered, “I hadn’t thought about that. Please don’t look at them again.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“I just deleted all the images on your phone. Have you had sex with Wayne?”

“No, I swear it, I haven’t,” she replied urgently.

“If you did and got caught, Wayne would probably go to jail. Would you like to have that on your conscience the rest of your life? An unskilled guy with a sex offense record would have a tough time gettin’ on in life. You want that to happen to him?”

“No,” she whimpered, a hot lump forming in her throat.

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Anastasia, but I don’t think he’d stick around for very long once he got you in bed.”

“You don’t know that,” she protested.

“No, I don’t, but I know guys, and screwin’ the bosses daughter would be a kick. It’s irrelevant though,” he said softly, “because you won’t be seein’ Wayne again, and your entire life is about to change.”

“How, why, what are you talking about?” she demanded, suddenly finding a second wind of courage.

“I understand you’re upset, but if you raise your voice to me again I’ll have to give you three hard cracks. Got it?”

Tears brimming, she stared at him as she nodded her head.

“Now be quiet,” he said firmly. “I have a call to make, and while I’m talkin’ you don’t make a peep, you hear?”

“Yes, I hear,” she muttered.

Touching the screen of her phone, he waited patiently as it rang, and when Wayne’s voice came on the line Clint hit the speaker button so the sorry girl in front of him could hear the exchange.

“Hey sexy, are we gettin’ together tonight? I’ve got your weed baby.”

“Wayne, you don’t know me but I’m callin’ for Anastasia.”

“Oh yeah? You want some weed too? Hey, why do you have her phone?”

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, Wayne. If you call, email, text, or attempt to see or communicate with Anastasia in any way, her father will be told that you’ve been seein’ her and sellin’ her dope. If you see her walkin’ towards you on the street, cross over, if you see her in a movie theatre, leave, if you see her in the diner, leave, you gettin’ the picture here, Wayne?”

“Fuck man, don’t be so fuckin’ heavy. You think she’s the only chick I’ve got. I don’t need this shit. Don’t worry, she’s history.”

Clint wasn’t at all surprised by Wayne’s outburst and cowardly reaction, but Anastasia was, and a sorrowful frown crossed her brow as she heard her supposed boyfriend toss her away.

“Are you listening to me, Wayne?”

“Yeah, man, I’m listenin’, I’m listenin’.”

“Delete all the photos you have of her right now. I’ve got someone watchin’ you, Wayne, and if you don’t do exactly what I say he’ll take your phone away from you, possibly break a couple of fingers in the process, delete the pictures himself, then do something quite unpleasant with that phone and your backside. Any questions?”

There was a pause, and Clint could imagine Wayne, fear shivering in his gut, frantically trying to figure out who the thug could be. Clint was sure the lumberyard provided plenty of candidates, and he was right. As Wayne scanned the immediate vicinity several guys looked right back at him, and he quickly decided a few pictures weren’t worth taking the chance. Cursing himself for not having downloaded the images on to his computer, he considered emailing them to himself, but changed his mind.

“You’re taking too long, Wayne,” Clint pressed.

“I’m deletin’ the pictures,” he said hastily, seeing a tall, hulking figure in a red and black plaid shirt walking towards him.

“Your computer will be hacked any minute now, and unless you want it lifted and the hard drive fried with some battery acid you’d better erase anything about Anastasia-”

“I don’t have shit on my computer,” Wayne interrupted. “I swear.”

“Remember, my man is watching you,” Clint lied, then ending the call he looked across at the quaking girl in front of him. “Now you know the truth about your so-called boyfriend,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, but-”

“He’s just an asshole,” she blurted out. “I never cared about him anyway.”

He could see the pain in her eyes, and while he felt sorry for her, it had been a good lesson. Taking a deep breath he put the phone on the couch and continued his lecture.

“The phone is going to stay with me for a while, and you’re grounded for a month. I’ve given your father some software that will allow us to monitor your computer. You’ll be driven to school and picked up afterwards, and startin’ tomorrow, you’ll be comin’ here every Sunday at one o’clock sharp.”

“Here? You mean, here, to you?”

“Nope, I mean you’re gonna learn how to ride a horse. You’re gonna muck out stalls, and brush the horses, and take care of them, but if you get sassy with your folks, yep, they’ll bring you here and I’ll spank your bare ass. If you pull any crap at all, I’ll spank your bare ass. You’re gettin’ your act together, Anastasia, and the faster you change your attitude, the happier everyone’s gonna be, especially you. Any questions?”

“I can’t believe this. This is horrible!” she groaned.

“Horrible is being strung on weed, horrible is hangin’ with some no good loser who only wants to get in your panties, horrible is havin’ parents who don’t care about you, who don’t feed you or clothe you or give a rats ass. That’s horrible. What’s happenin’ to you right now it’s love girl, it’s your mom and dad’s love.”

He knew the girl’s heart was pounding, he knew she was stunned at the dramatic, unexpected turn of events, and as much as he felt for her he still had one last edict.

“We’re almost finished, and your dad will be here any minute to pick you up, but before you leave I’ve gotta spank you.”

“Why, haven’t you done enough,” she groaned.

“That, right there, tells me I haven’t. I’m not gonna use the crop,” he declared as he stood up and moved to his buffet, “but you’ve gotta leave here with a hot, stingin’ backside. It’s long overdue.”

Hanging up the crop, he selected a narrow, wooden paddle. It resembled a ruler, but was thicker and sturdier. Returning to the couch he sat down and rested it just below where he’d delivered the stinging cuts with the crop.

“Six with this paddle. You say, thank you, Sir, after each one.”

Without wasting any time he swatted it down, eliciting a yelp, but a moment later she mumbled, ‘thank you, Sir.’ The second she did the same, but after the third he paused.

“Why are you thankin’ me?” he asked.

“You told me to,” she stammered.

“For these last three I want you to think about how your dad cares enough to want a good life for you. You’ve gotta be punished for bein’ bad, but you’ll feel better for it. When you say thank you, you gotta mean it. I want you to think, ‘thank you for carin’ enough to spank me.’ Try it, see how it feels,” then delivering the paddle, he waited.

“Thank you, Sir,” she bleated.

He sensed a slight change in her tone, and listening carefully he heard the same tone after the next swat. The last smack he delivered with an extra zing, and as she cried out the words he sensed she almost felt them.

“Stay there and close your eyes,” he said tenderly, and dropping the paddle he ran his hand across her bottom. “I know it’s sore, but you deserve it and you know you do. It’ll be sore tomorrow as well, and if you’re bad and have to come back here it’ll be sore again, so behave and get your act together, and things will be much better, I promise you.”

Sighing heavily he returned the paddle to the buffet, and moving to the kitchen he pulled a bottle of iced water from the refrigerator. When he returned he found her softly crying.

“You can straighten up,” he said softly, “and here, drink some water.”

“I feel all weird,” she sniffled taking it from him.

“Weird is good. You can sit up on the couch now. I’m gonna go have a talk with your dad, and then I’ll come and get you and you can go on home.”