Saturday, September 10, 2022

Moon Feather: Part 56: A Well-Earned Reputation


She couldn’t do it. Joey felt like she had been sitting on the sofa for an eternity waiting for him to come back. Despite being in deep shit, she couldn’t make herself take her clothes off. The mental breakdown in the woods was…unexpected, to say the least. She didn’t like losing her shit, let alone in front of other people. It was a weakness. To show her fear and her distress. She had been holding it together really well, but something in her just snapped. The fight with Everett had left her feeling extremely vulnerable, especially with the way he had held her while she cried.

She didn’t want to be vulnerable. She didn’t like it. It was scary, scarier than his whip, scarier than staring down a gun barrel. While part of her conceded that she’d been a rude bitch to him and had broken several of the rules they agreed upon, she couldn’t bring herself to be complicit in her own punishment. Willful surrender just wasn’t in her. Not yet, anyway. Maybe someday that was something he might get from her, but not now. Not when she was clinging to the last shield she had left, no matter how thin it was.

When he finally returned, the only thing she’d managed to remove was her boots, which lay crumpled on the floor in front of the sofa. Joey had tucked her knees up into her chest, hugging them lightly. Everett came into the room looking significantly cleaner than before. He had shed the Union blue bib shirt, trousers, and boots, washed the dirt from his face, neck, and hands, and donned what appeared to be a fresh set of drawers and undershirt. In his hands, he held the razor strop, menacingly free of its fancy case. 

Her eyes widened and he lifted a brow at her. “Thought I told ya ta take them clothes off.”

“Is there any way I might be able to talk you out of that?” she said, pointing at her nemesis.

Both eyebrows rose in a very doubtful expression. “And how might ya do that, exactly?”

Joey shrugged. “I dunno. Suck your cock, maybe?”

Everett snorted. “Darlin’, you are more’n welcome ta do that any time ya please, but it ain’t gonna save you a single lick now.”

She blinked thoughtfully. “...please, Daddy?” she tried, looking up at him through her lashes. 

He smirked a bit, brow wrinkling in bemusement. “No. Now get up and do what ya was told.”

She ducked her head down into the crevice between her knees. “I can’t.”

Everett set the strop on the seat of the cushioned armchair sitting perpendicular to the couch. He then moved the ottoman in front of the chair to the side of it, pushing until the edge of it touched just under the rolled cushion that made up the arm of the couch. 

He turned back to her, hands on his hips, considering her. “Do ya need me ta force ya? I can, but it’ll cost ya.”

Well, that sounded ominous. What more was there beyond the strop? Although, she could have just been building it up inside her head, and it really wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. She hugged her knees closer. “Cost me what?”

“You’ll find out, but it ain’t gonna be pleasant.” He crossed his arms and waited for her to decide. 

“I don’t get to know what I’m agreeing to?” Her mind began to roll over the myriad possibilities.

“Nope. You can obey me, or you can trust me. Your choice.”

Joey wrinkled her nose. “You give really shitty choices.”

Everett smiled gently. “It’s punishment, Jaybird. There are no good choices.”

“There could be,” she suggested, twisting a lock of her hair between her fingers. “You’re the one who gives them.”

“I think I got my answer.”

The next thing she knew, his hand was in her hair, yanking her from the couch onto her feet. Joey struggled instinctively when he went to pull her shirt over her head, but grappling with Everett was an exercise in futility. He handled her with such ease, she might as well have been a doll. His movements were forceful but exceptionally deliberate, taking care to be gentle with her bad arm. Before she knew it, her buckskins were piled on the floor and Everett was laying her over the arm of the sofa with her knees resting on the ottoman. 

“I told you day one we was gonna respect each other. You best learn right now, I ain’t ever gonna stomach you cussin’ me. Or blatant defiance,” he said as he placed his hand on her lower back, pressing her into the bolster-like arm of the sofa. 

Joey covered her head with her arms and groaned. “You don’t have to lecture me. I already know I was a bitch.”

His hand cracked down hard on the middle of her ass, making her squeal. “We done discussed my feelin’s on that word already. I suggest ya drop it from your lexicon. Maybe I ain't got to, but I’m gonna. Ain’t no point in whoopin’ ya if’n ya don’t know why I’m doin’ it.” 

“You were pretty clear at the tree,” she mumbled into the cushion.

“I see you ain’t in a place ta listen, so I guess we’ll get on with it then,” he said, a touch of irritation in his voice.

Joey barely had time to panic before the first swat landed on her upturned ass. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but the strop definitely lived up to the monster she had built in her mind. It was a bit like reverse lightning, a loud pop followed by blinding pain. Joey howled and would have flung herself off the couch were Everett’s hand not holding her in place. There was no mercy in him tonight as he laid the second blow before she’d fully processed the first. 

It only took five slaps to have her sobbing wildly into the seat of the couch. Their fight had left her emotionally raw and ripe for the full collapse of the dam holding back her grief and frustration. Her world became nothing but hot stinging pain, the sound of her own cries, and the warm tears soaking into the upholstery. The stiff smack of the wood and the abrasive sting of the strap coalesced into an exquisite sort of agony she had never experienced before.

Everett diligently painted her flanks from the top of her cleft to the top of her thighs, not missing an inch of skin. She flailed and cried with each burning stroke, having wholly abandoned her typical efforts to stay quiet. She wasn’t sure how many passes he’d made over her flaming skin before he paused, holding the strop against that most sensitive spot low on her ass. 

“Nonono!” she wailed as he rubbed the strop against her smarting flesh, letting her feel the grit of it. 

The strop landed hard against its target. She couldn’t say if it was harder than any of the other excruciating whacks, but it certainly felt like it. Joey’s mind went blank and she lost herself in the unrelenting misery, going limp over the arm of the couch, blubbering into her puddle of tears and snot. 

It was a while before she realized he’d stopped. The only pain now was the persistent throb and heat of her thoroughly thrashed butt. Everett knelt on the floor beside her, silently rubbing her back with his calloused hand. It did nothing to ease the fire in her ass, but it was comforting all the same. Joey turned her head and looked at him through her hair. He tilted his head, looking back at her, a mixture of pity and affection in his gaze. He swept her hair gently out of the way and held a handkerchief up to her face. She took it and shook her hair back into a wavy auburn veil to hide behind while she blew her nose. She made to push herself up, but Everett stopped her by pressing down on her back.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, but we ain’t done,” he said, sounding sad but determined.


If you would like a glossary of western slang used in this story, here is the reference I'm using: Western Slang, Lingo, and Phrases – A Writer’s Guide to the Old West     

Wicked Wednesday

1 comment:

  1. Oh gosh, I thought that was it, but now am so curious to know what he has in mind!
    ~ Marie xox