“Checking for a joey. If there was a baby in the roo’s pouch, we’d have to do something about it. But there wasn’t.”
“Oh. I’m glad there wasn’t a… joey.”
He started the engine and turned the car back to the road. “Me, too, luv. Me, too.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the conversation. “Dingoes will take care of the remains the way nature intended, despite that bloody idiot. Now, time to deal with ya getting yerself in trouble.”
“Trouble?”
“I told ya to take cover and ya didn’t mind me. That sheep man was dangerous, and ya didn’t heed my warning.”
“I didn’t get hurt.”
He looked over at her for a moment. “Not because ya did the smart thing, Peggy. When we’re out here in the bush, ya have to listen to what I say and do what yer told. This isn’t… where are ya from?”
“Colorado.”
“This isn’t Colorado. I’m the authority here, where yer concerned.”
It wasn’t fair to hold mischance against her. She didn’t know every single danger. Although, she guessed that was the problem. Maybe she’d do better to follow his instructions. But she’d read up on Australia before she followed her father here, and it wasn’t like she had no bush experience. She’d gotten enough of that with her two previous guides. She knew what was dangerous… mostly. Enough, anyway. And the shooting guy, well, he was an aberration. It wouldn’t happen again. That seemed like the tack to take. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Tripp arched an eyebrow, but didn’t look away from the road. He was quiet for a long time. Peg wondered what he was contemplating so intently. “I think a spanking is in order.”
“A what? You can’t be serious. I’m not going to let you spank me!”
“Ya need a guide and yer father thought I’d be the best choice. He’s paying for this. Do you think he’s going to want to pay for another guide if I quit? You’ll end up with a plane ticket right back to Perth. I’d say yer between a rock and a hard spanking, Peggy.”
Annoying as he was, she realized she was stuck with him, and had to find a way to live with him. And in truth, he had saved her life twice in one day, and she kinda trusted him. “Look, Tripp, we can work this out. I’m sorry I didn’t mind.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Ya need to be punished and taught a lesson, or you’ll just go doin’ dangerous things again.”
“I don’t need a lesson! I’ve learned.”
“I disagree.”
“Oh, you are insufferable. I hate you.”
“You’ll take the spanking to keep me, though.”
“Do you spank all your clients?”
“As a matter of fact, I never have.” He speared her with a quick but potent glance. “I’ll make an exception for ya.”
Peg sighed. The whole day was such a mess. Only recently, her mother had threatened a spanking, her father had told her she needed more discipline, and Darren-the-guide had implied as much as well. “If you were my daughter…” Darren had said. Maybe he’d meant, “If you were my daughter, I’d—” How would he say it? “If ya were my daughter, ya’d learn caution by the seat of yer pants.” Yes, that would be how he’d say it, the old curmudgeon. Fortunately, she didn’t have to deal with him anymore. Unfortunately, Tripp didn’t seem a whole lot better.
Except that he was handsome, even kinda sexy, in his pushy way. Maybe the spanking would be sensual. That happened with some couples, right? Of course, they were hardly a pair. Her one boyfriend hadn’t been into any of that BDSM stuff, and she’d been too shy to mention any interest after reading that poorly written, but wildly popular book about it. Apparently, her inner goddess wasn’t that adventurous.
Tripp might have more interest in kinky things, but it still seemed presumptuous of him to suggest it.
“If I tell on you, you’ll get in trouble.”
“Have it yer way, Peggy. Yer father is holding the cards as far as I’m concerned. He said I was to take charge of ya. He gave me complete authority. When I was a boy, the way to prevent further misbehavior was a good, old-fashioned spanking. I’d have to say, you’ve needed one for a long time.”
“I have not!”
His look said she’d confirmed his pronouncement.
There was silence between them as they drove to the rocky outcropping. There was a billabong there, full of cool greenish-blue water, with grassy verges around. It was quite inviting, even though the stifling heat of the day had abated as the sun sank toward the horizon. The rocks nearby were big, up-thrust crags with clear lines of sedimentation, and a stand of acacia trees, dark with shadows, was nearby.
“Are there rock paintings here?”
“Not here,” he responded. “I can show ya some.”
“Yes, please.”
“First things first.” The door closed behind him as he went around to the back of the vehicle. Nearly magically, two backpacks appeared, with things hanging off the sides from carabiners. Although one looked fairly heavy, Tripp carried both packs easily. “I’ll pitch a tent, and ya put yer bedroll inside.”
There was a fire pit carefully formed in the middle of the campsite, with cold ashes from the last camper’s visit. Peg wondered briefly about the sanity of sleeping outdoors. She’d been staying in a motel in Katherine, traveling two hours each way every day to get out to the bush with her guides. Wouldn’t wild animals come looking for them? “Are there crocodiles in this water?”
“No. It’s mineral water and the river is east of here, not close enough to encourage them. You’ll be safe.”
Peg wasn’t so sure. Who was going to protect her from him? “Um… should I gather wood?”
“Do ya know how?”
“No. Not really.”
“I’ve got some charcoal. Better than depleting the mulch. We’re good. Go sit on that rock.”
Approaching the rock with some concern, Peg looked around for snakes or spiders, and saw nothing alarming. There was a marmot-like thing way up in a crevice, but it didn’t look dangerous. She sat on the rock and watched Tripp erect the two-man tent fluidly. It gave her an opportunity to admire his thick muscles bunching, but he wasn’t a weightlifter type. Those muscles were formed by outdoorsy stuff, and his arms were deeply tanned, speckled with a light coat of fine dark hair. Once the tent was ready, he gestured toward it. “Yer bedroll is the red one. Put it in the tent, and then come out here and lower yer shorts.”
Peg felt her eyebrows rise. “My… shorts?”
“I won’t spank ya on the bare this time, but believe me, it will teach ya to mind in the future.”
“We don’t have to go there. I honestly will follow your instructions.”
He nodded. “Especially after I whack ya on the arse.”
Sullenly, Peg got her bedroll and put it in the tent, taking her time unrolling it and inspecting the sleeping bag. It was comfy looking. Maybe she could just sit inside the tent for a while and Tripp would find something else to do and forget about spanking her. A fly buzzed in through the door and went straight for her face. She shooed it away, but it flew around the tent looking for water and salt anywhere it might be found.
She lingered in the tent with the fly, but pretty soon, Tripp’s bedroll—a blue one—came sailing in through the door. “I’m waiting, Peggy.”
“Will you stop calling me that?!”
“Full of prickles, aren’t ya? Can’t tell when yer being teased.”
No one had ever teased her that way. Her parents and everyone had always called her Peg. It was sort of… affectionate of him to call her Peggy.
“Hurry up unless ya want more spanks.”
“I want less spanks.”
“Yer not acting like it. Stop behaving like a spoiled little rich girl and come out here to take yer medicine.”
“I am not a spoiled little rich girl.”
“Peggy…” His voice held a threat.
She had to have him as her guide.
Going back to the US under a cloud was about the worst thing she could think of—worse than a spanking, even. Although it was a weird idea, if it made the outing work better, she’d accept it. And, in her heart of hearts, she admitted that maybe her behavior warranted a bit of a punishment. Still, she had to give avoidance one more try. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming out. I have to tell you, though, this is pretty much assault. I could call the cops.”
“Those are not magic words, luv. All ya have to say is ta—that’s goodbye—and we’ll be quits. Then it’s all up to yer dad.”
“Why must you be so stubborn?” She stood by the tent door. Tripp was sitting on the rock she’d vacated.
“Shorts down.”
“All right, all right.” It took only a few too-short moments for her to lower her shorts. She held them mid-thigh.
“Over my lap.”
“What a Neanderthal. Over your lap? You couldn’t think of anything more creative?”
“Sarcasm. Not what I would expect from a woman about to get a spanking.”
Suddenly, talking back did seem to be a bad idea. It was wiser just to get it over with. “Fine.” Holding her shorts up, Peg took small steps to reach him. Tripp patted his lap. After giving him a very dirty look, she bent herself over his knees. Immediately, he threw one of his legs over hers, pinning her down. “No hands,” he told her.
There was no answer for that. If this hurt, she was certainly going to put her hands over her butt. Who wouldn’t?
As she settled into place, he tugged her shorts further down, until they were at her knees. Her white lace panties remained as her only protection. “Nice bum,” he told her. Peg felt her whole body go hot with a blush. This was, by far, the most humiliating position she’d ever been in, and with a man she hardly knew, to boot. She had a hint of what it would feel like to be paddled. They’d given her a number of smacks with a paddle when she’d been a sorority pledge in Colorado. But that was among women, and this had a kind of… sexual connotation, not like pledging. There was a pause and suddenly, a loud smack rang out, followed by a sharp sting on her behind. The birds went silent.
“Ow!”
Tripp didn’t respond except to smack her behind again. And again ten more times. Her bottom stung all over, like a thousand beestings, both sides equally aching and smarting. “Okay! Okay, I’ve got it.”
“Six more.”
“No! No more! I’ll pay attention. I won’t disobey you.” He spanked her two more times. Fire spread down her behind to the junction of her legs and cheeks. “Oh, stop! I get it. You are the lord and master. The patriarch of our little clan! I promise I’ll be good.”
He snorted. “Lord and master and patriarch. More sarcasm. Extra for that.”
Peg’s brain turned to mush. All she could think of was her flaming fanny. Tears formed and trickled off the bridge of her nose and the ever-present drove of flies flitted around her face to get the moisture. “I give up,” she said on a sob, waving the insects away.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take it for another second, the spanking stopped and Tripp released her. Peg hung there over his knees for a moment longer, finally levering herself up. Immediately, Tripp’s arms came around her and he guided her to sit on his warm lap. It was a little painful to sit there, but the sting was slowly morphing into a powerful itch, so rubbing ever-so-slightly against his jeans was somewhat soothing. Tripp didn’t miss it.
“If you keep squirming like that, I’ll crack a fat.”
“Crack a… what does that mean?”
“Let’s just say it would be an inappropriate reaction.”
She thought about that for a few seconds, then realization hit her. He meant he’d get an erection. Peg’s face flamed. “Oh!”
“You’ll have to learn a little Aussie while yer here, luv.”
As she snuggled up against Tripp’s sturdy body, she wondered about Tripp’s motives.
“Why spank me, Tripp? Why not just quit?”
There was a pause. “I won’t lie ta ya, Peggy. Yer father made me a good offer to guide ya. But, and this is a big but, I think he’d pay me even if I quit because yer difficult. Mostly why I spanked ya is because ya need to learn to beware of danger. Yer the kind of kid who needs to have her hand slapped away from a burning fire.”
“I’m not two years old.”
He held her tightly and sighed. “No, yer not.”
Chapter Three
Tripp lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark tent. The rustling of the bilbies through the leaves on the forest floor were the accompanying drummer’s steel brushes for the flying foxes’ cackling. He could occasionally hear their broad wings flapping not far away. They liked to roost in a crevice in Wombat Rock, and as night dwellers went, were scarier to look at than they were to encounter. He lay there, a smile haunting his lips, coming and going as he thought about the evening he’d just spent with Peggy. She was snuggled against his left arm, holding it in her small hands like a teddy bear. He was thinking about putting that arm around her and holding her against his body, but a few things prevented that.
A memory of her coming back from the billabong, her face and hands washed, slid in behind his eyes. She’d been adorable. Her shoulder-length blond hair tied up in two ponytails just below her ears, her ear buds firmly in place as she bounced her head to the music. He’d been tending the fire when she sat down on a rock, still bobbing to the music from her iPod. After a moment, she closed her eyes and sang along loudly.
Tripp chuckled and fussed with the fire. It got her attention, though he hadn’t intended it to. She was so perfect sitting there in her Hootie Owl pajamas, singing in her little-girl voice, unaware of anything in particular going on.
“What?” she asked.
“Just enjoying the sight, Peggy-girl.”
A small frown etched her perfect brow for a moment.
“No offense,” he said. “What’s that song?”
“Something I heard at a friend’s house. It’s by Kate Miller. I don’t know who she is, but I love her music. So much energy and joy.”
“All good things. Ever listen to Katy Perry?” He liked Katy Perry’s music, and thought maybe it would be something they could have in common. Perry was quite popular in Australia and all over the world.
“Oh, yeah! Have you heard ‘Roar’? Awesome.”
They talked about music for a little while, but it soon became late, and Tripp intended for them to leave early the next morning.
It took a while for her to settle into her sleeping bag, and she’d squirmed all around beside him while she did. He grinned into the darkness.
Sometimes, she was like a kitten, all fussy and full of little claws. Other times, as it was while she slept against his arm, she was softly purring.
Faced with the young woman, Tripp felt so old. Even though he was only six years older than Peggy, it felt like a dozen. The weight of his responsibilities had taken their toll. His father’s cattle station was like the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head. As the eldest child in the family, Tripp had been earmarked to take over the station when his dad retired. Of course, his grandfather was still quite active, even at eighty years old, so his dad could be happily occupied at the station for quite some time.
But recently, his father had suffered a health problem which laid him up for nearly a month. Tripp had put his tourist services business aside to go to the station and help out there as much as he could. Although he’d grown up with the dirt and the cattle, even went to uni to learn the management of the spread, it didn’t suit him. He liked being out in the bush, tending to tourists and keeping them safe. When he’d worked as a ranger in Nitmiluk National Park, he’d loved meeting people and exploring with them.
He wasn’t cut out to run a cattle station, and he had a guilty hope that his brother, William, would step up. William hadn’t made a decision on what he wanted to do with himself yet, so Tripp had no assurances that the station would have a caregiver other than him.
&nbs
p; As he lay there, contemplating his current situation and thinking of his goals and aspirations, Peggy cooed in her sleep.
He’d had an American girlfriend once. It ended in heartache when they had to go their separate ways, she back to the US and he back to the cattle station. She’d been so sweet and easy going. She was about as different from Peggy as night and day. Darla had been a woman who was mature for her age; Peggy was still a girl in so many ways. It was endearing on her, and attractive. But Peggy was his client, unlike Darla, who had been a college crush. Peggy, he had to keep at arm’s distance, and he needed to remind himself whenever he was tempted.
But a little cuddle was okay. This time especially, when she was asleep and wouldn’t expect more from him.
Tripp put his arm around her and gently snugged her up against his body, even though it was probably a bad idea. They were both firmly encased in separate sleeping bags, but feeling her little body pressed to his was soothing. Soothing enough to send him off to sleep.
* * *
The morning was a bit dismal with clouds and a light sprinkle. The sunlight was weak and watery. Tripp knew it wouldn’t last long; they were barely getting into the spring rainy season. But they broke their fast and Tripp helped Peggy put on her backpack and get squared away. She looked a little wide-eyed as she hefted the pack’s weight on her back, but it wasn’t a heavy pack—not nearly as heavy as Tripp’s—so she would get used to it. Peggy seemed to be in good shape, though one couldn’t always tell from a good figure.
Before they loaded up, they’d had an argument over what Peggy should wear. She wanted to wear her shorts again, because it was over 32 C (what Peggy would call 90̊ F), but it wasn’t wise to trek through the bush with uncovered legs. There were plants and insects that went for the legs. He had to insist, and threaten another spanking, but that seemed to get her attention enough to make her put on the long khakis he brought for her.
They trudged through the woods, and Tripp pointed out small animals, graceful birds, and a few dangerous insects and snakes. Peggy wrinkled her button nose when Tripp overturned some leaves and exposed a deadly centipede.
Discipline Down Under Page 3
