Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Junior turned to watch them.
“Y’all right back there, Cole?” he asked.
“Someone decided to defy me already,” Cole said, dragging Aida and the strap to a wooded area. “And the sooner we get our rules straight, the better.”
Junior was slight, with blue eyes and tufts of blond hair creeping out beneath the Stetson he was still growing into. His innocent looks belied his true character. The youngest recruit of Cole’s, he could be tough as nails when push came to shove. Cole’d seen him pistol-whip a man twice his size in the last town they’d visited, and threaten to cut the fingers off a man who’d had the nerve to touch a lady of the line in a saloon they’d stopped at the week prior. The man hadn’t asked permission, Junior had explained later, when Cole had to wrestle the knife out of Junior’s hands. Junior was vicious, but his weakness was pretty ladies.
“Already?” Junior asked, frowning. “Can’t you just—”
“You leave off, Junior, and don’t you get in my way, unless you want a taste of the strap yourself.”
Junior’s eyes widened slightly. Cole had taken the strap to him once, when he was still a new recruit, only eighteen years old with much to learn. He’d gone behind Cole’s back and stolen a gold pocket watch from a traveling salesman, simply because he’d liked it. Cole didn’t allow defiance and didn’t abide theft, unless he authorized it. Junior had taken his whipping like a man and made amends. He’d never defied Cole again. But he well knew Cole meant what he said. Holding his hands palm up, Junior backed off in surrender.
The other men didn’t budge from their stations as Cole dragged Aida deeper into the woods. They all knew when Cole pronounced a sentence, it was best not to interfere. The pretty blonde within his grip screamed at him and swore as he hauled her to where a large tree served a perfect whipping post. He chuckled mirthlessly.
“Well, now, ain’t you pretty puttin’ up a fight. Care to repeat that last phrase, pretty girl?”
She kicked her feet and struggled against his grasp, but it was no use. He was far stronger, and enjoying every bit of the struggle.
When they got close enough to the tree, he dropped the strap to the ground. He deftly swung her around and checked her tied hands, ignoring the hatred in her eyes. He didn’t care about the hatred. What he needed to see was compliance.
She’d get there.
When she was good and secured, he leaned her up against the tree, thankful she wore nothing but the thin cotton garment. There’d be no need to remove it. He knew how to swing the strap expertly so that it would fall in just the right way, delivering a satisfying burn. The strap was a softer leather than the horsewhip that lay back at the wagon, and was unlikely to welt her as easily.
“Now, pretty girl, you’ll stand up against that tree and take your punishment, or I’ll have to hold you over my lap. And as much as I’d like to have that lovely body of yours closer to my cock, we can get this over more quickly if you take your whippin’.”
She seemed torn. Her eyes flitted to the side, as if to find an escape route, but there was none and that was exactly the way he liked it. She could either stand against the tree and be whipped, or be taken over his knee. In the end, he would get her obedience. If there was anything he could do expertly, it was extract compliance from those who were weaker.
She tossed up her chin and glared at him. “You can tie me up and whip me,” she said. “But I’ll see you hanged for this.”
Clenching his jaw, he grabbed her about the shoulder and tried to get her into position, but her foot shot out and kicked him in the kneecap. It stung like the dickens, and he swore vehemently as he rubbed at the pain, reaching for her bound wrists, but she was too quick. She spun away and tried to run but he snagged her about the waist. She tried to pull away from him, screaming at the top of her lungs, but it was too late for her now. He ducked her swinging fist, encircled her waist with his arm, and in one swift motion, dropped to the ground, hauling her straight across one bent knee. He lifted the strap and let loose a hard, whistling lash. She screamed when the strap connected with her backside. She kicked and hollered but couldn’t get away. Holding her tightly, he gave her another few measured swats with the strap. Her ferocity in fighting him still didn’t wane, though her voice caught now when she screamed. With nothing to protect her from the bite of the strap but her thin cotton chemise, he plied the strap against her thighs, and heard a whimper escape. Now he was getting somewhere. He spanked her again in the same spot. She yelped, pulling away and moaning, twisting her bottom, but he knew how to overpower her so that she could do little more than kick her feet. He was bigger, stronger, and meaner.