No More Laters

by Coleen Singer

  No More Laters

  By

  Coleen Singer

  ©2014 by Blushing Books® and Coleen Singer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

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  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Coleen Singer

  No More Laters

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-442-6

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Table of contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

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  Chapter One

  As Jill watched, the heavy doors closed behind the passengers now once more aboard the coach. The pungent odour of diesel fumes assailed her nostrils as, raising little puffs of dust on the hot dry gravel, the coach heaved its way back onto the straight black ribbon of bitumen. Off it trundled, gradually getting smaller until it disappeared altogether into the horizon.

  Jill stared after it at the empty road, then turned her gaze back down the road the opposite way towards Melbourne where she had boarded the coach that morning. The roadhouse in the driveway of which she stood lay on the very outskirts of Mildura, and she was swept by bitter-sweet pangs of nostalgia as the familiar smell of hot road, dry grass and flowering eucalypts stirred so many precious girlhood memories. Her hand moved to rub the ache of longing and loss weighing in her belly.

  In the brilliant, cloudless azure sky, the sun flamed so fiercely that even the grass, already dry and brown from the first onslaught of summer, shrank away. Jill took the Akubra hat from her head and ran her fingers through her long straight hair, its usual gold colour now darkened with perspiration. She idly fanned herself for a moment in a vain attempt to manufacture even a slight breeze as her eyes, the colour of the sky, searched the horizon once more, but still it was empty.

  The dark stonewashed grey of her denims burned with absorbed heat and she could feel her short-sleeved, checked cotton shirt clinging damply to her. Replacing her hat, she turned and entered the roadhouse. Armed with a bottle of Coca-Cola, she returned to the verandah outside the casual dining room, and straddled her suitcase. Taking a drink, she turned her attention back to the road.

  "Come on, Vicki," she murmured, the excitement of seeing her dearest friend in the world and spending Christmas at her beloved River Gums making her impatient. During their high school years, with her widowed father away so much on business, it was commonplace for Jill to spend the long summer holidays at the O'Connell's sheep station, in this remote corner of Victoria. But since they'd left school, her visits to River Gums had been few, and she'd been delighted when Vicky had rung to say she and her husband were returning to the family property for Christmas and Jill was invited to join them. Now, with two glorious weeks to indulge herself, she was anxious not to waste a moment. "Come on," she urged again, rising from her makeshift seat and pacing towards the road again.

  On cue, an image appeared in the shimmering haze in the distance. Drawing closer, the molten shape focused to reveal a ute, which Jill immediately recognized as the old white Holden from River Gums. As it pulled into the roadhouse drive and crunched to a halt, Jill could see the driver and his passenger. She leapt up, the sweat trickling down her body not only caused by the sauna-like heat, the rapid thumping of her heart only partially caused by the excitement of being re-united with her best friend.

  Even before the wheels had fully stopped, the passenger door flung open and Vicky scrambled out. Rushing to Jill, she wrapped her arms around her, squealing with delight.

  "Roo, oh Roo! It's so good to see you!" she exclaimed, using the nickname she had given her so many years earlier. Beginning as Jillaroo, it had quickly shortened to Roo and had stuck thereafter.

  "Well, Mrs. Fenton, marriage certainly seems to have agreed with you," Jill grinned noting the sparkle in her friend's eyes, the glow in her complexion and the gloss in the mass of brown curls which bounced around her round cherubic face. This was the first time she had seen Vicky since the latter's marriage to Alistair eighteen months earlier. "You are positively radiant, you wicked girl."

  "Oh yes," Vicky returned the smile, adding with a chuckle, "It is wonderful. You should try it! Not," she added hastily and honestly, "that you need to. You, as usual, look stunning!"

  Jill blushed with pleasure at her friend's adamancy.

  Whilst they'd been greeting each other, the man who'd driven the ute had loaded Jill's suitcase into the tray. That done, he joined them.

  "Hi, Roo," he said, his eyes sweeping admiringly over her slender figure. "Good trip?"

  "Hello, Michael," Jill answered, surprised by the jolt which shook her as his eyes met and held hers. "Yes, thanks."

  "Gee," Vicki chided them. "That's not much of a greeting. I at least got a kiss," she told Jill, before turning to her older brother. "Go on, kiss her. She's nearly a sister, too!"

  Michael grinned and shrugged. "You heard the boss. Welcome home, nearly sister," he murmured wryly, the expression in his eye far from brotherly as he bent down and kissed her gently on the mouth.

  Jill felt her cheeks flame, and the frisson which shivered through her as she looked at the handsome man before her, made it plain that she had not responded in a purely filial way either.

  "That's better," Vicky's voice broke the spell as she slipped her arm once more through Jill's. "Shall we go, then?"

  She opened the passenger door and hustled Jill in, before she too climbed in and pulled the door shut behind her. Michael again took the driver's seat, and Jill found herself sandwiched in the middle.

  "Ready," he asked, clicking on his seat belt.

  "Yep," Vicky answered after both she and Jill had donned their own seat belts. "Guess what?" she demanded as Michael started the engine and the ute pulled out of the gravel drive and back onto the bitumen. "Ali's been transferred back to Melbourne. We move in the new year."

  "Oh, that's wonderful," Jill cried delightedly.

  "Yes," agreed Vicky. "I can't wait, and the best part will be not having to live next door to the neighbour from Hell! You'll never believe what that dreadful woman gets up to...."

  As Vicky chattered away, Jill half-listened, trying to respond appropriately but distracted by the view from the window as the ute raced past the tall gums lining the road. Beyond the fences, sheep searched for feed among the sparse dry grass, or sought respite from the heat by congregating around the dams, which offered the only other relief from the never-ending sameness of the landscape.

  It was a twenty-minute drive before the ute swung off the road, across the cattle-grid that bridged the fence on either side, and down the gravel road towards an oasis of green trees some distance away.

  "Look, Roo, there are the horses," Vicky teased, pointing to four h
orses huddled in the shade of a tree, their only movements the never-ending flicking of tails and ears, shuddering of shoulders and stamping of feet in response to the tiny stings of the sandfly bites. "We should have picked you up on them!"

  "You ride now?" Michael asked surprised.

  "No way!" Jill was shocked. "I'm terrified of horses. You know that!"

  "I did," he agreed, "but anything's possible." His eyes flicked over her again, before returning to the road. "You've changed a bit in other ways over the years."

  "How's Bushranger?" Jill asked, diverting the conversation away from her to Michael's black Arab stallion.

  "He's fine." Michael answered. "There he is, under that tree. I'll take you down later, when you've settled in. You can say hello to him."

  Jill's heart began to thump uncomfortably, but she couldn't be sure whether it was from the prospect of having to be close to a horse, or of being alone with Michael. Before she had time to work it out, though, the ute bumped over the final grid, and Jill could clearly see the lovely old homestead, nestled under the shade of the clump of tall, silver river gums. Just beyond, glimpses of the Murray River meandering past on its long journey to the coast could be made out through the bush.

  The original part of the house, built in the 1940s, was white-painted brick, and a two-story extension, added in 1981, had been designed to blend in, giving it the appearance of being part of the original dwelling. The wide wooden verandah, which almost completely encircled the house, was partially hidden from view by white lattice trellises. Trailing over them, rambling roses entwined amongst themselves bursting forth here and there into splashes of pink and white flowers. Further beyond, the brilliant green of the well-watered lawn contrasted with the vast red-brown of the dry almost grassless paddocks.

  "It's so beautiful," Jill breathed, all other thoughts momentarily banished. "It really does feel like coming home."

  With the ute safely in the shed, Michael leapt out and grabbed Jill's suitcase from the back.

  "I'll take this to your room," he growled in his deep voice and headed for the house.

  Jill, following behind with Vicky, watched him striding in front of her. He was a tall, lean man with the hard sinewy strength that comes from years of physical labour, yet he walked with unexpected litheness and grace. He was dressed as always in jeans and a cotton shirt, his outfit completed by the omnipresent slouch hat and work boots.

  Inside the house, Vicky led Jill up the wide polished wooden staircase to the upper floor.

  "Ali and I are in the spare room," she explained, "and you're going to have my old room." She slipped her arm around Jill's waist and gave her a spontaneous hug. "Oh, Roo! I'm so deliriously happy being back home, and Ali's here, and now you're here, too. It's just too wonderful! And we've got so much to talk about," she continued, barely pausing for breath. "I want to hear about your work and your boyfriends and everything."

  As she was speaking, they arrived at the bedroom at the top of the stairs. Vicky had already entered but Michael, who having deposited her luggage on the floor, was leaving, suddenly blocked Jill's way. For an instant, Jill found herself looking directly into his face. His thick black hair flopped onto his forehead as he lifted his hat, wiped his sleeve across his brow, and replaced his hat. Startled to find her heart had faltered as she gazed into his midnight blue eyes, Jill lowered her gaze until it rested on his sensuous mouth. Strong white teeth showed between parted lips which, Jill suddenly realized with horror, were twitching with amusement.

  Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment at being caught in her scrutiny of him and she quickly looked away, but cupping her chin gently in his hand, he tilted her head up so she was forced to look directly into his eyes again.

  "I'd like to hear about your boyfriends, too," he said in a low voice so only she could hear him. "I hope you've been behaving yourself, or you know what will happen, don't you? I still take my brotherly duties very seriously, you know."

  Jill's eyes opened wide in disbelief, but before she could think of a suitable reply, he'd slowly removed his hand from her chin leaving it feeling as though it had been caressed, and left. Jill stood motionless as if turned to stone, but beneath the surface, her emotions were raging. Brotherly duties? Surely, he didn't mean... couldn't mean... wasn't thinking of... not now....

  "Here, Roo, what did he say to you? You look like you've seen a ghost," Vicky said, snapping Jill back to the present.

  "Ah, nothing," Jill answered, feigning calm. Joining Vicky in the bedroom, she opened her suitcase and began unpacking.

  "Well, if you say so," Vicky shrugged, clearly unconvinced. "Sure didn't look like nothing to me, though. In fact, for a moment it reminded me of old times, you and Michael gazing wistfully into each other's eyes."

  "There was nothing wistful about it," Jill declared. "Not then and not now. Really, Vick, you're such a romantic. But this time your imagination has well and truly run away with you."

  "Well, so you say." Vicky was not to be dissuaded. "I know you two used to hold hands, and I bet you used to kiss down by the river, too. Remember that time I went to town with Mum and we had to come back, and you and Michael were coming up from the river. You looked very strange, Roo, as I've told you before, I seem to recall. You always reckon nothing happened, but I have my doubts to this day."

  Jill felt herself blushing furiously. Yes, she remembered that day. It was the first time Michael had demonstrated how seriously he took his 'brotherly' duties. It was the first time he'd spanked her. There was a rule that no one was to go swimming in the river or dams unless they had someone with them. Too many tragedies had occurred on farms before, and the O'Connell's were determined that they would not lose a child in this way. It was a strict rule and one which no one ever broke. Until, that is, Jill did.

  * * * * *

  It was the summer she was sixteen, the year before the O'Connell's had installed the pool. Having decided not to join Vicky and her mother on the half hour's drive into Mildura, and all the men being out working, Jill had found herself on her own at the house. The mercury had passed 40C, way past the old Fahrenheit century, and the river just seemed too inviting to resist. She knew she shouldn't go, but couldn't see what possible harm she could come to, and knew she would be back well before the others, so she slipped on her bikini, grabbed a towel and a book, and found a nice shady spot by the coolish water.

  Unfortunately, Michael was in the shed, not out in the paddocks as she had thought when she left the house and he saw her leave. He followed her, waiting until she arranged her things on the bank and started into the water before coming into the clearing so she could see him.

  Jill was still close to the edge, not swimming as much as just cooling down in the shallows. He walked straight in, took her by the hand and hauled her out.

  "What!" she gasped, struggling to free herself. At 21, and much bigger and stronger than her, though, Michael had no trouble in maintaining his grip.

  "Let go!" she demanded. "You're hurting me!"

  "That's exactly what I feel like doing," he told her furiously. "What on earth do you think you're doing? You know perfectly well that you're not to come down here on your own, let alone when no one even knows you're coming. What if you'd gotten into trouble? Huh?"

  Jill was surprised by the depth of his anger, and not a little indignant at his treating her like a child either.

  "I wasn't going to get into trouble," she told him. "And what business is it of yours, anyway?" she added rudely.

  "No business I wanted, you can be sure of that," he answered. "I would rather be getting on with my work than playing nursemaid to a naughty little girl who's behaving stupidly. Wait until Dad hears what you've been up to."

  That was enough to stop Jill's struggling. She might be furious at Michael referring to her as a "naughty little girl" and saying she was "behaving stupidly," but she didn't want his parents finding out. What if they forbade her to come again?

  "Don't tell on me, Michael," she pl
eaded. "Please. Nothing was going to happen to me. If you hadn't seen me, no one would ever have known. Please don't say anything. Can't it be our little secret," she wheedled, desperate for his promise.

  Michael regarded her for a moment, clearly still unimpressed. At last he spoke.

  "Very well, we can keep this just between ourselves, if that's what you really want."

  "Oh, thank you, Michael!" Jill interrupted relieved. "I knew you'd be a sport. Let's just forget it, huh?" Her voice faded away as she realized the stern expression on Michael's face hadn't changed, and he still hadn't loosened his grip on her arm.

  "I said we'd keep it between ourselves. I didn't say I'd just forget about it. I won't tell Dad, if you're sure that's what you want, but I will punish you myself."

  "What?" Jill looked at him in bewilderment.

  "Either you agree to let me spank you, or I tell Dad. It's your choice."

  "What?" Jill repeated incredulously. Surely, she couldn't have heard him right. She'd never been spanked in her life, and was fairly sure Vicky's parents had never spanked their children either, so it was the last thing she was expecting Michael to say. "You're joking," she decided at last.

  "No, I'm not joking, Roo," he said, and the seriousness in his voice certainly indicated he meant what he said. "You know this is no joke. No one is allowed down here on their own. You know that. But you snuck out while you thought no one was watching. You knew what you were doing was wrong, didn't you?"

  "Michael..." Jill began, but he cut her off.

  "You knew all right. There's no point in trying to deny it. Well, you got caught. So, now either you agree to bend over my knee while I spank you - which is what you deserve, or we can tell Dad what you've been up to. Which is it to be?"

  To her horror, Jill felt tears filling her eyes. Here she was trying to argue that far from being a naughty little girl who deserved to have her bottom spanked, she was grown-up enough to go swimming in the river by herself, and now she was sniffling exactly like a child.

  "No, Michael," she cried. "Don't tell Dad." She wasn't afraid Jack O'Connell would spank her, but she was afraid he might forbid her to come again, and even if he didn't, she would be ashamed to see the disappointment in his eyes. And she would be deeply embarrassed for everyone to know she had behaved so irresponsibly.