SIX OF THE BEST 2
A collection of six spanking stories
Edited by Miranda Forbes
Published by Accent Press Ltd
Copyright © Accent Press Ltd 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY
The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Digital Edition converted and published by Andrews UK Ltd 2010
Hired Hand
by K D Grace
It irritated Suzie the way Tim Harris worked without a shirt, like he didn’t know how distracting that was. She watched him muck out the barn, grunting slightly with each thrust of the pitch fork, breathing heavily from the effort. If she closed her eyes she could easily imagine him doing something else. To her.
She dragged her gaze away from the hard play of muscles that, no doubt, came from some cushy air conditioned gym, which is probably where he got his tan.
Working bare-chested might cool him down a bit, but it only made her hotter. She had nearly forgotten the clit-stiffening scent of sweaty maleness, earthy and slightly piquant, a scent that, amid the barnyard animal smells caused her own animal nature to squirm and stretch and sniff.
He was too damn good looking to be a real hired hand. From Chicago, he said, by way of London – in England! He arrived complete with an accent that never failed to make her tits tight. Rural Missouri was a long way from London. What would a pretty city boy know about farming? He would have been the last man she would have hired had he not been the only one who applied for the job.
‘Let me see your hands,’ she commanded.
He jumped and nearly dropped the pitch fork. ‘I didn’t hear you come in, Suzie.’
She tried to keep her eyes on his and not the muscles of his belly, tensing and relaxing into his low slung jeans that always seemed to be hiding something just barely contained, something she hadn’t stopped thinking about since he arrived at Sheridan Farm.
He removed his gloves and held his hands out, palms up for her inspection, offering her a warm smile. ‘Blisters are healed. I’m starting to get calluses.’
‘About damn time. I’m not paying you to be an invalid.’ She couldn’t help herself, she gave his palms an open handed stroke, thinking of how good those calluses would feel against other, more sensitive parts of her body.
As she did so, he dropped a glove. She stooped to pick it up, closer to his groin than she intended, close enough to notice his package was straining his Levis this morning. The tangy, male rutting smell made her mouth water. Suddenly the sweat between her breasts wasn’t the only moisture she was feeling. She fought back the urge to jerk open his fly and bury her face against his bulge, reminding herself she hadn’t earned the respect of the other farmers without discipline and self control.
After her father’s death, she kept the family farm working against all odds, and she wasn’t going to let some city boy’s bulging jeans slow her down. She stood quickly and handed back his glove. ‘I’m going into town to get the seed corn. You can drive a tractor, right?’
‘I can drive anything you need me to drive,’ he replied.
She assumed that meant he didn’t know a standard transmission from a pogo stick. But when the time came Tim was as good as his word. Ike Melbourne had offered her the use of his tractor for the day, since his son was getting married. While Tim ploughed the field behind the barn she used Ike’s tractor to plant the south forty. It was supposed to rain on Wednesday. With the extra tractor hopefully they’d be done before the weather hit.
She planned to plant into the night, breaking long enough to tend livestock before dark. She hurried about feeding the chickens and the pigs, hearing the steady purr of Tim’s tractor in the field behind the barn. She was checking the water tank in the pig pen when she noticed the silence.
Wiping her hands on her jeans, she walked around the side of the barn. Beyond the stand of oak and elm just on the other side of the fence the tractor stood empty and silent.
Damn it! This wasn’t tea time. There was a storm coming and they still had two hard days work. She climbed the fence then suddenly she stopped in her tracks, her breath caught in her chest. She could see Tim, standing with his back to her, his legs slightly spread. For an embarrassing moment, she thought she’d caught him relieving himself. But before she could back-track, he grunted softly and leaned against the tractor, face lifted to the late afternoon sun. His damp chest was bare and heaving. His heavy cock protruded from his open fly, eagerly stretching into his stroking hand.
Anger burned in her chest, and she snapped off a newly leafed willow branch, still thin and supple.
He jumped at the sound of her intrusion. A blush crawled up his neck as he struggled to get his uncooperative cock back into his Levis. ‘Suzie! I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Clearly.’ Her breath came in staccato bursts. Her racing heart would have been halfway to St. Louis if it could have escaped her chest. ‘You’re supposed to be ploughing.’
‘I was ploughing, but…’ His eyes came to rest on the willow branchling, and his hands froze on the front of his Levis, his efforts at tucking and zipping forgotten. ‘Suzie? What are you doing?’
‘You’re supposed to be ploughing,’ she repeated.
‘I was. I just…’His voice caught in his throat with a little gasp as she shoved his hands away and ran the end of the willow switch over his straining cock. ‘What’s this then?’
‘It’s the motion of the tractor,’ he grunted. ‘It makes me hard.’
‘Obviously. That’s not getting my field ploughed, is it?’
‘But I…’
She grabbed him by his sun bleached hair and pulled him into a hard kiss. Before she had time to wonder what the hell she was doing, he responded! The man had his tongue halfway down her throat!
She shoved him back and gave him a sharp lash with the switch across his hard nipples. He gasped and covered his pecs with a protective arm. ‘What the…’
She smacked him again, low across the belly and his cock definitely stretched toward her.
‘You’ve been nothing but undisciplined ever since you got here, getting blisters, running around without your shirt.’ She pinched his nipple. ‘And now this, playing with your cock when you’re supposed to be working.’
‘But I… ’
‘Turn around.’ She smacked his stomach again, and he obeyed with a harsh grunt.
‘Now pull down your jeans.’
He shot her a surprised look over his shoulder. She brought the switch down across his Levied butt with a resounding snap. ‘Do it. And your boxers.’
‘Are you going to spank me?’ His voice was incredulous, breathless, but he did as she said, wriggling both jeans and boxers down until the tight clench of his muscular buttocks showed pale in the late afternoon sun, as did the tops of his thighs. No spa tan after all, she noticed, but he still needed to learn his lesson.
‘This is a working farm, not a resort.’ She was suddenly someone else. Respectable, no-nonsense Suzie Sheridan watched as the stranger she had become ran the switch between Tim’s legs and up the cleft of his b
uttocks. The tremors in her pussy felt like small earthquakes as his ass clenched and his hips shifted. There was no denying his cock was at full attention.
‘I’m sorry if I did something wrong.’ He seemed to have trouble breathing.
‘Shut up!’ She brought the switch down with a sharp thwack across his bare bottom leaving a red pattern of leaves against the pale flesh. He sucked air with the sting of it, but his cock got still harder, and he ground his hips. She brought the switch down again, feeling a surge of power so arousing that was nearly enough to make her come in her panties with no more effort than smacking his bottom and watching him squirm.
‘When you work for me, you work.’ She walked around to his side and smacked the bare fronts of his thighs. ‘Play with your toys on your own time.’ A sharp thwack to his exposed balls made him jerk and grunt.
His eyelids fluttered as she ran the trailing young leaves, what were left of them, down the length of his cock. A pearlescent droplet of pre-come slipped from its head. She caught the satiny liquid on her finger tip and brought it to her lips, suckling the flavour of him noisily. ‘Do you understand?’ She smacked his bottom again and he moaned out loud.
‘I can’t…’he gasped, grinding his hips, struggling to breathe.
She smacked him again. ‘Can’t what?’
His chest heaved and he caught his breath, reaching for his cock, but she slapped his hands away. ‘Can’t what?’ Another smack across those bright pink buttocks, and she watched the way his anus clenched and unclenched with the sting of it. ‘Tell me.’
He sucked air between his teeth, ‘I need to come,’ he groaned.
Grabbing his cock, she pressed the end of her thumb firmly against the underside and held him tight. ‘You come when I say you can come and not before.’ She ran the feathered leaves of the switch over his buttocks, then leaned in and bit his bottom lip. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’
When she was sure he wouldn’t shoot his wad all over the running board of her tractor, she yanked her tank top off over her head and his eyes were suddenly glued to her braless breasts. ‘Play with my tits,’ she commanded. ‘I know you want to. I’ve seen what a bad boy you are, always looking at them.’
‘I don’t,’ he gasped as she guided his hands onto her small, high breasts, but not before she slapped him.
‘You do.’
‘It’s just, you don’t wear a bra and…’
She smacked his bottom again, the impact of which caused him to jump and squeeze her nipples. ‘Don’t back talk me, or I’ll make you hold your wad all night.’ She cupped his balls in a hard squeeze and pulled him to her tits so he could nurse, feeling the amazing suction of his lips all the way to her pussy.
‘You’re not the only one who needs to come, you know? You’re always running around flexing your muscles, wearing no shirt. And those jeans, the way they hug your ass and your cock. All you’ve done since you got here is tease me. Now it’s time you paid for it.’
She pulled away and undid her jeans, shoving them and her panties down over her hips, forcing one trainer off her foot so she could get a leg free. Then she stepped onto the running board of the tractor, leaned back against the seat and opened her legs. While one hand white knuckled the willow, the other fumbled to spread her swollen folds. ‘I need to be taken care of,’ she grunted. ‘Do you know how to do that?’
‘I do,’ he gasped. ‘I will.’ Then he pulled her to him, cupping her ass cheeks in his big callused hands, running both thumbs up to part her swollen labia still further to make a path for his long, agile tongue. He licked her from perineum to clit, thrusting his tongue like a cock deep into her split, licking and suckling his way to the hard node of her clit where he nursed and slurped until her whole body thrummed with the feel of him.
She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to her mouth, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. With the mix of gentle thwacks and strokes of the willow, she guided him as she would guide a stud to a mare, until he was perfectly positioned between her spread legs, then with the pressure of the willow against his buttocks, she pressed him to her until the solicitous tip of his penis pushed into her slippery pout. ‘Fuck me,’ she said. Then she brought the switch down with a snap across his bottom. He gasped and clenched his buttocks, shoving forward until her pussy yielded grudgingly to the full dimension of him, right where she needed him.
She wrapped her legs around him and he thrust hard, so hard, she thought he would force his cock right through her. She thrust back with all her strength and rode him, using the switch liberally in rhythm with their humping, as though he were a race horse and she the jockey racing breathlessly toward the finish line.
‘I’m sorry I was naughty,’ he thrust harder.
‘You don’t sound sorry.’ She thrust back and smacked him again.
‘I am. I’m terribly sorry.’ He humped still harder, and she feared they’d both have broken bones from his efforts.
‘Then prove it,’ she half screamed. ‘Make me come.’
He pinned her between the tractor and his body and hammered into her while she spanked him with the willow until it snapped in two, then she dug her heels into him as the orgasm ripped through her, and with one last shove and a growl, he shot his wad.
It didn’t take long for respectable, no-nonsense Suzie Sheridan to return, and embarrassment washed over her. She dressed quickly, avoiding his gaze. ‘Get back to work.’ It sounded mean spirited, but it was, after all his lazing around that brought about this whole sordid incident.
When she glanced up, he stood there shirtless as always, Levis still open at the top, offering her his usual polite smile. ‘It’s done.’
‘What?’
‘The ploughing. It’s done. Like I said, I know how to handle a tractor.’
Her face felt like it would burst into flames. ‘You should have told me.’
‘Are you kidding? And missed out on the punishment.’ He nodded to the remains of the willow switch now looking much worse for wear, and his lips curled in a wicked smile. ‘I’m not stupid, Suzie.’ He buttoned his fly and heaved a happy sigh. ‘Now, what’s next? I believe you said we’d be working into the night.’
The corn got planted, and they were able to get some serious roof repairs done on the barn before the bad weather broke. Suzie declared it a day off – the first in a while. She curled up on the sofa with a hot romance novel and Tim went into town. He said he had some errands to run, and besides he hadn’t had time to explore Edina yet. Not much to explore, Suzie thought, but she figured City Boy was getting a little stir crazy.
He hadn’t been gone long when the thought began to niggle. Just how did City Boy become such a good farmer? He said something vague about university and something vaguer still about having family both sides of the pond, but whenever she questioned him, he politely changed the subject. She’d never seen anyone so polite. Must be an English thing. Or maybe it was just a Tim thing. She put aside the novel and shuffled into the kitchen. Through the rain-pocked window she could just make out the barn annex where he slept.
It was an invasion of the man’s privacy. It was trespassing. But she convinced herself it was time to check for mice. It was a barn annexe, after all. What kind of landlady would she be if she allowed vermin to invade Tim’s living space?
She knocked, needlessly. She knew he wasn’t home, but it was the polite thing to do. The door was unlocked.
Inside, the bed was neatly made, and there were half a dozen paperbacks lying on the night table. They ranged from spy novels to Spinoza to a book on growing organic vegetables. His clothes, what few he had, were neatly hung in the make-shift closet with his work clothes on a peg near the bathroom door, boots neatly cleaned and sat beneath. In the bathroom she found soap, shaving cream, shampoo, no special brands, no clues to who Tim Harris really was. Beside the toilet was an array of
magazines as eclectic as the paper backs. Truly the man was a mystery.
As she left the bathroom, she lingered to caress his Columbia University T-shirt, which still smelled of his sweat and the fine rich loam of her fields.
She stroked the fabric and lifted it to her nose, inhaling deeply the scent of him while her other hand, as though it had a mind of its own, moved inside the elastic waist of her athletic shorts seeking out the humid, warm crevices, the aching landscape of her that shivered and moistened at the thought of Tim leaning against the tractor bare bottom raised to her switch, cock twitching and growing harder with each smack. How could she have been so brazen? She should apologize to him. She was lucky he didn’t have her up on charges, and yet all she wanted was to do it again. She buried her face in his shirt and moaned, practically riding her fingers.
‘You’re trespassing.’
With a yelp, she turned to find Tim standing at the door, arms folded across his rain-soaked T-shirt, nipples drilling through the thin fabric. She didn’t even attempt to take her hand out of her shorts. She’d been caught.
‘I’ve been wondering how long it would take you.’ His gaze raked her with near physicality, lingering on her braless breasts then her hand inside her shorts curved around her pubis. He clucked his tongue. ‘Once a bad girl, always a bad girl.’
‘Wha…’Her words stuck in her throat as he undid his heavy western belt buckle, which rested precariously above his growing bulge. Then he slid the belt from his Levis.
‘The only thing I like better than taking punishment, Suzie, is giving punishment. And I especially love giving it to very naughty girls who invade my privacy.’
There was no escape. He stood, legs apart, dripping rain on the floor between her and the door. Outside there was a loud clap of thunder and a bright flash of lightning as he stepped forward. He pulled out the heavy wooden chair from beneath the make-shift desk, sat down and patted his knee. ‘You’ve been a very bad girl, Suzie Sheridan, from the beginning, misjudging me so badly, blaming me for your nasty thoughts and desires when I think there’s no one to blame but you.’ He patted his knee again. ‘I think it’s time you paid for your bad behaviour.’
Six of the Best Spanking Stories - Volume 2 Page 1
