On the drive home from the bar, Ray could not get the wide grin to leave his face. With Mr. Callaway prattling on in the passenger seat, talking to Jessica over his shoulder, Ray was free to be alone with his thoughts. Never, had he ever expected Jessica would be the one to ask him to finally introduce spanking to their relationship.

For Ray, spanking went so far beyond any form of kink or discipline. It was not a way for him to control his woman’s behavior, or merely turn her on in the bedroom. It was the gift of a woman’s submission, fully giving ownership over one’s body in that special way, that put the grin on his face.

There are many dynamics at play in relationships. Jessica allowing Ray to protect her in a way that went deeper than the give and take of a normal relationship was key for Ray. Knowing that he was her man and she was his woman and there would be consequences if she were to jeopardize that. And, yes, having power over Jessica’s body, it was sexy as hell.

Checking the rearview mirror to see Jessica’s smile and send her a quick wink, Ray returned to daydreaming while they drove Mr. Callaway home, thinking of his much-loved memory from the past year.

Ray and Jessica were not yet officially dating, though he had been thinking of her as his for weeks. In the early days of their dating, Ray would come to Jessica’s house and bring her nutritious beverages to help with establishing nursing, visit a bit, and hold Evan. Thanking Ray for the Moose Juice, Jessica had kissed Ray.

That kiss signaled to Ray that after waiting for over a decade, it was time to pursue this woman. Ray began to cook for her. Every visit, without fail, he saw to it that Jessica ate. The night Ray was currently daydreaming of was one that while serving Jessica up a huge plate of pasta, Ray had almost dropped the bowl in surprise when she had asked, “So, are you, like a daddy type?”

“Maybe, probably. I guess you could say that,” Ray had responded, then clarified his response with, “but in a ‘who’s your daddy’ way, not ‘I want to be your father’ way if that makes sense.”

“Hmm… This is good,” Jessica said as she took a second bite. “That makes sense. But if it’s a ‘who’s your daddy’ way, does that include discipline in the relationship?”

Spanking his woman, of course, was Ray’s best-case scenario. If he couldn’t spank, he could live with that, but he had to be the Head of his Household. Not wanting to scare Jessica off, Ray had simply replied, “Not all daddy’s spank, you know.”

Their conversation had been put on pause to take care of baby Evan. Not willing to let the subject drop, Ray scheduled a date and took Jessica to Giorgio’s in Clinton to continue their discussion.

Ray’s train of thought was suddenly jerked off memory lane by Mr. Callaway saying from the passenger seat of the car, “Wouldn’t you agree, Ray?”

“One hundred percent, Mr. Callaway,” Ray answered, looking in the rearview mirror to see Jessica smiling. Ray waited for the conversation to turn away from him. Once the attention was off him, Ray returned to his memory of that date, while driving the familiar roads to Mr. Callaway’s house.

Ray tried to hide his smile from his passengers as he played back Jessica’s response, in his head. “When on earth do I ever ‘need’ a spanking?” Jessica had asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe when you stay up watching murder mysteries after you’ve been told no and you are grumpy in the morning. Or when you forget to lock the front door at night. And when you don’t call certain people to tell them that you are going to be late coming home at night. Would you agree that those things might deserve a little trip over my knee?”

The blush that crept into Jessica’s face told Ray everything he needed to know. This was a woman, longing for the special care he could offer her. “I think we both know who the daddy is here,” he had said, his voice low. Across the table at the fancy restaurant, Ray had watched as the blush in Jessica’s cheeks, turned crimson.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Ray pulled into Mr. Callaway’s drive, walking him to the front door and making sure he got safely inside.

Returning to the car, Ray climbed into the driver’s side, eager to get his fiancée home.

“You sure were quiet on that drive,” Jessica said, buckling her seatbelt, having moved up to the passenger seat. “What’s on your mind.”

“Daddy stuff,” Ray said with a wink, enjoying the blush that rose into Jessica’s cheeks as he reversed out of the drive. That date had been the last time that spanking had come up in their conversation. Soon after that night, Carrie had suddenly gotten sick, then, Jessica and Ray became engaged and life had gotten so busy, that Ray and Jessica had no time to revisit the topic. Hearing Jessica say the word’s ‘spank me,’ right at his bar, made Ray ecstatic. And he couldn’t wait to get home. “Mostly just reminiscing about our first official date,” he answered.

“Ah,” Jessica said, putting the pieces into place. “Giorgio’s.”

Keeping his left hand held tight to the wheel, Ray placed his right hand on Jessica’s upper thigh, giving it a squeeze. “You need a stress relief spanking?” he asked.

Ray could hear the embarrassment in Jessica’s voice. “Maybe.” Jessica sighed a little sigh, “Maybe, yes.”

Tightening his grip on her thigh, enjoying Jessica’s intake of breath as he did, Ray said, “If we open that door, I’m afraid I won’t be able to go back.”

“You’re going to be spanking me all the time?” her voice squeaked out.

“Maybe. Depends”

“On what?” Jessica turned to Ray, indignantly.

“How naughty you are. But sometimes I’ll want to spank you just because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to. Because I can.”

Ray watched Jessica’s face as his words sunk in. The pink continued to rise in her cheeks. Knowing Jessica would flourish under his special care, Ray could be patient. He had waited this long to make Jessica his own and soon she would be his for eternity. He had all the time in the world for her to fully embrace what he was offering.

“Can I think about it?” she asked, softly.

“Sure. But first, you are going to lay over my lap and receive the spanking that you asked for.”

* * *

After sending Mama on her way, and checking on a sleeping Evan, Ray led Jessica to the couch.

Sitting next to one another, Ray wrapped his arm around Jessica’s shoulders. “I love you, honey. And I’m ready to add this dynamic to our relationship. But only if you want it. Either way, you are at least getting a spanking tonight, so go ahead and lay over my lap.”

Jessica giggled, nervously.

A firm believer in ‘ask and you shall receive’, Ray raised one eyebrow to Jessica, saying, “Now.”

Jessica’s laughing stopped. Looking unsure, Jessica slowly moved her body, so her torso was laying over Ray’s thighs. Ray moved forward guiding Jessica’s knees to drop to the ground. Kneeling over his thighs, Jessica’s bottom was within easy striking distance. Ray began his lecture.

“Jessica, are you taking care of yourself?”

“Of course!” she protested.

“Did you eat the salad I left for you, last night?” There was no response. Coming home from the bar after two in the morning, Ray had found the uneaten salad hiding in the back of the fridge. “It’s important to take care of yourself during times of chaos so you can handle the stress. Right?”

“Mmm, hmm…”

“Okay, that’s ten for not eating well.”

“Ten!” Jessica exclaimed, turning and peering at Ray, behind her shoulder. “It was one salad!”

“You are telling me that other than skipping the one salad, you have been eating well?” Ray had found one too many empty Little Debbie’s wrappers in the trash that month.

“Um, maybe not super well,” Jessica admitted.

“Ten it is. Let’s not make it twenty for lying.” Ray held back a chuckle as Jessica shuddered underneath him. “What about bedtimes on the nights that I am not here to tuck you in?”

“Hmm,” Jessica murmured. Ray had yet to get a straight answer out of her. It would come in time. He would teach her.

Patting her bottom softly over her jeans, “What time did you go to bed last night, young lady? After ten?” Ray asked.

“Maybe?” Jessica said.

“Eleven?”

“Ish.”

Not one to lose his patience, Ray could play this game all night. It was her bottom on the line. “What does, ish, mean, exactly? I’m adding five for not answering my question. You are up to fifteen, Miss Jessica.”

“That’s not fair, Ray,” Looking back at him over her shoulder, Jessica began to sit up to protest.

Smack smack Ray placed two hard spanks on the backs of Jessica’s thighs. The sting in his hand fulfilling a long-time desire within him. “In position, please. Shall we call it an even twenty for arguing? If I were you I wouldn’t even bother asking if those two counted.”

Jessica lay back over Ray’s lap, obediently. “Yes, Ray.”

“How about, ‘Yes, sir,’ when you are in this position.”

“Yes,” it took his stubborn woman a moment, but to his immense pleasure, she did say, “Sir.”

“You can leave your jeans on until we are married. After that, you’ll be spanked on the bare. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Jessica said with a groan.

“Groaning makes it twenty-five. I won’t even tell you what you’d be at if I could see that eye-roll that I know you just did. Now, count them for me.”

“Ray, I can’t,” Jessica began to protest, Ray brought his hand down flat right in the middle of her left cheek. Smack He could feel the sting in his hand, admiring Jessica’s bottom as it wiggled over his knee.

“That hurt,” she protested. Her voice much quieter, Jessica whispered, “One.”

Methodically placing slaps and swats, varying in strength, Ray covered every inch of Jessica’s curving bottom. He wanted her to know that spankings could hurt, but also be a release. Just when he knew he was pushing Jessica’s pain threshold, he would lay off a bit on the next one, placing it right in that little valley between the curve of her bottom and the top of her thigh. Alternating between gasps and moans, Jessica counted out each one of the remaining twenty-four spanks, beautifully.

Nowhere near tears, but very flushed, Jessica pulled herself up to kneeling beside him, her tummy against his knees. Jessica wordlessly reached her face up towards Ray for a kiss.

Leaning down to meet her lips, Ray was pleasantly surprised, but not shocked, by the hunger within Jessica’s kiss. Grabbing Jessica by her upper arms, Ray pulled her up and next to him on the couch. After another moment of kissing, Ray stopped, breaking the embrace. Jessica’s face hung, her eyes shining.

Reaching out and holding her face in his hands, Ray asked, “What do you think of spanking in a relationship?”

“I think it’s lovely,” Jessica murmured, reaching in for another kiss.

Gently caressing her face, her hair, Ray quietly said, “Remind yourself of those words the first time you get in real trouble with me, little miss.”

“Yes, sir,” Jessica answered, dreamily.

Ray kissed his girl. He meant what he said. Jessica was a strong woman and though she may love sexy spanking and stress releases, she would inevitably resist when Ray had to properly punish her. Ray stopped kissing. “Let’s hold on just a minute,” Ray said, prying Jessica’s body from his.

As close to pouting as Ray had ever seen her, Jessica crossed her arms and sat back on the couch.

Chuckling, Ray said, “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll take good care of you tonight.” Jessica looked away, his promise bringing a pretty pink to her cheeks. “I want to talk. The first spanking can be emotional.”

Jessica said, “Ray, you know me better than anyone. I’m just not the emotional, ‘talk it out’, type.”

“On the outside, maybe,” he whispered, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “But on the inside, you care deeply about things. So much so, that you tend to push your feelings aside and pretend they don’t exist.”

“It’s good to be tough. Life isn’t easy.”

“I like you tough. But you don’t have to be tough with me.” Kissing the top of Jessica’s head, Ray thought about everything Jessica had been through over the past year and a half. “Tell me how laying over my lap made you feel.”

“Hot for you,” Jessica said, smiling up at him.

“I can tell,” Ray laughed. “How else, emotionally, not physically?”

Looking frustrated, Jessica lay her head on the back cushion of the couch. “I don’t know. It made me want you in a deeper way than I have before. Like something down inside me has wanted this to happen for a while.”

Knowing Jessica could only dwell on ‘mushy’ stuff for a small amount of time and satisfied with her answer, Ray chose to move on. “Do you think you’d like to try this in our marriage?”

“The last thing I’d ever thought I’d be is a spanked wife. I can tell you that.” Laying her head on Ray’s chest, Jessica began tracing the lines of the pattern on his shirt. “But if it makes me feel like this, I’m willing to try it.”

“Punishment spankings are different, those hurt.” Gathering her tightly into his arms, Ray stroked Jessica’s hair and back. Ray knew he would have to ease Jessica into this lifestyle, starting now. “But I think you will feel as you did after this spanking, the wanting part. Are you willing to introduce punishment spankings as well?” Ray didn’t say for him it was all or nothing. Games in the bedroom were wonderful, but if Ray was going to have a spanked wife, it wasn’t something he took lightly. This was something Jessica needed to decide for herself, and he did not want to influence her decision.

“Yes.” Jessica looked up at Ray with a saucy glint in her eye. “I mean, yes, sir.”

Thrilled with her response, Ray stood up, scooping Jessica into his arms and carried her, giggling, off to the bedroom. God, he loved this woman.

* * *

The stress relief the spanking, and the tender loving care it led to had Jessica waking up that morning with a grin as wide as the Texas landscape. Smiling to herself, daydreaming about her evening with Ray the night before, Jessica mixed equal parts of Chestnut bronze hair dye number one seventy-seven, with a twenty-volume developer. Having made the same dye for ten years now, Jessica knew the exact recipe to keep Ms. Blaylock's steel gray hair, a gleaming brunette without having to pay much attention to the mix.

Carrying her mixing bowl back into the main part of the salon, Jessica inwardly groaned when she saw there was yet another early bird special customer, waiting in one of her red leather chairs.

“Hey, Mrs. Turner. I’m not sure I have room for any more appointments today,” Jessica said apologetically. “I’m kind of slammed.” Jessica looked around the salon. She had two perms setting under dryers, two women waiting to be seen, flipping through magazines, and Ms. Blaylock, ready for her dye.

“No worries, honey, I’ve just come to chat with the girls.” Mrs. Turner waved her hand at Jessica, insisting she continue with her work.

Jessica wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She had once heard that weddings can bring out the worst in people, not having noticed the truth in the statement until it was her wedding on the line. She loved her customers, but ever since word had gotten out that the wedding reception was to be a potluck, all heck had broken loose in the town of Poke.

There had nearly been knock-down, drag-out fights over potato salad. Instead of bringing a dish, or tea, everyone was bringing both, not to have their mama’s recipe outdone by anyone else’s. Cornbread, corn fritter casserole, corn on the cob had all been claimed, numerous times. And the beans. God help Jessica, there were going to be pans and pans of the magical fruit, overwhelming her special day.

“Jessica,” Mrs. Turner called. “Is anyone bringing banana pudding, yet? It’s been said that I make the tastiest in town, but I don’t want to step on any toes,” Mrs. Turner said, fluffing her hair.

Carefully brushing the amber liquid to cover Ms. Blaylock's roots, Jessica pretended she hadn’t heard the comment over the sound of the dryers.

“Her mama’s making the pudding, Thelma,” Ms. Blaylock answered, patting Jessica’s arm reassuringly. “Didn’t you know it’s custom at a potluck wedding for the mother of the bride to make the dessert?” Ms. Blaylock said, giving Jessica a conspiratory wink in the mirror. Jessica mouthed the words ‘thank you’, to her client.

“I didn’t know that. Doesn’t that just beat all? Makes sense if you think about it, I guess,” Mrs. Turner replied. “Jessica, you love my peach cobbler. I swear you would eat the whole thing by yourself before Ray came along.” Jessica laughed. Mrs. Turner liked to pay Jessica with food, and her cobbler was delicious, and possibly to blame for the remaining baby weight that plagued Jessica.

“That’d be lovely, Mrs. Turner,” Jessica answered, turning and smiling at the darling woman. “Ray loves your cobbler, too,” she added.

“Don’t want to show up the mother of the bride by bringing dessert, but you know it’s my specialty,” Mrs. Turner sniffed. “And goodness knows those bachelors are bringing enough beans to feed an army. We need other food groups than legumes.”

“Enough beans to feed an army and gas power the entire state of Texas,” Ms. Blaylock added. A rowdy laughter ensued, and Jessica could almost sigh with relief as the conversation changed to flatulence.

Knowing the ladies were on a roll, and she could get away with nodding her head and inserting the occasional, ‘mmm, hmm’, Jessica focused on her job while letting her emotions process.

Last night had been a turning point for her and Ray’s relationship. Though they had talked about spanking before, up until last night, Ray had never spanked her. The memory of Ray’s control over her body made Jessica’s tummy feel funny, and her knees weak.

The act of crawling over Ray’s lap and presenting herself to him brought on a wave of submission that was hard to process. Embarrassing, yes, humiliating even, especially being made to count her swats out loud, but not unpleasant. There was an almost animal-like quality about the connection Jessica had experienced over the lap of her man.

Then there was the feeling of the actual spanking. It hadn’t hurt, exactly, but more left a burning, stinging sensation all over her bottom, connecting to her very core. Wondering how the spanking she had received would differ from punishment, Jessica wasn’t sure if she was curious or scared to death by the proposition. Deciding to focus on having excellent behavior, Jessica hoped that she wouldn’t have to find out too soon.

* * *

The storm had left as quickly as it had come, but the damage was done. It didn’t take long for the strong Texas wind to destroy what was in its path. Walking the perimeter of the fence with two of his ranch hands, Wes assessed the repairs that would be needed to mend the livestock fencing.

Glancing at the watch that never left Wes’ wrist, he figured he had about half of an hour before he needed to be back up to the house to get dressed. With the wedding mess disrupting his routine on the ranch, Wes had planned a romantic date night for him and Carrie to get away.

Wanting to give Carrie time to relax, he had told her to keep her evening free that night. He was going to put Carrie’s music on his truck radio, and drive her out to Clinton, to have dinner in the same steakhouse they had their first official date.

Seeing Wes checking his watch, Gary teased, “You got somewhere to be, boss?”

“I’m taking Carrie out tonight, I have about thirty minutes, then you guys are on your own to finish this up.” Since getting married, Wes had been delegating more of the ranch’s responsibilities to his employees. When Carrie had become deathly ill last year, the delegation had been invaluable, and so Wes made it a priority to not go back to his old ways of doing everything himself.

“You’d better not be late,” Gary said, making a face Wes couldn’t quite read. “Carrie’s on a warpath today.”

Carrie was the baby of the ranch. The men looked out for little Carrie and adored her. They also helped Wes keep tabs on his little bit from time to time. While no one ever tattled on her, the men did inform Wes of Carrie’s transgressions from time to time. Especially if Carrie got a wild hair and put herself into harm’s way with one of her crazy schemes. They hated to rat her out as they had seen Wes take her to the barn and knew exactly what went on in there. But it was Wes’ ranch and Wes’ rules. The men held a tremendous amount of respect for Wes. If there was ever something they thought he should know, they told him.

“Out with it, Gary.” Wes leaned against an undamaged fence post crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was up in the kitchen getting some of Mama’s leftover biscuits from this morning. You know the ones where she puts the cheddar cheese in the batter?”

“Gary, I don’t want to hear about biscuits. What happened with Carrie?”

“So, you know she’s all stressed out by this wedding. I guess that’s why you decided to skip the ceremony and got married at the hospital instead,” Gary said, stalling.

“Her decision,” Wes replied. Carrie had woken from her near coma and demanded they be married that day. There was no stopping her, and Wes had been perfectly happy to exchange the bedside nuptials. The only thing that mattered was that Carrie was alive. “Now, get to the good part,” Wes said with a smile.

“Carrie snapped at Mama,” Gary hesitantly revealed. “It was pretty ugly. I thought you’d want to know, and I know Mama wouldn’t tell you. But I’d hate to see it happen again.”

Everyone who stepped foot on the ranch called Wes’ mother, Mama. There was not a stomach that entered her kitchen without leaving full. Mama’s kind eyes and even temperament, mixed with her good cooking and nuggets of wisdom made Mama everyone’s friend.

Shock and anger flashed in Wes’ mind. Yes, Carrie had been out of sorts lately, but he thought he had put a stop to that with their spanking session. It was one thing for Carrie to take out her stress out on him, but to turn on Mama, there would have to be a serious consequence.

“Thank you for telling me, Gary. I might cut out, now. I have something I need to take care of.” Turning, Wes made his way towards the house.

“Go easy on her,” Gary called out behind Wes.

That would not be possible. Carrie had crossed a line.

* * *

Wes’ determination wavered, just a touch, when he saw his wife. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched as Carrie twirled in front of the mirror. Hair twisted up in an elegant bun, wearing the rose-colored dress from their Mexico vacation, with red cowgirl boots completing the outfit, Carrie looked like an angel.

Wes cleared his throat to announce his arrival. Startled, Carrie turned to him, saying, “Oh, hi, I didn’t hear you come in.” Her fingers reached up to the little gold horse charm that always hung around her neck. She twirled it nervously.

“How was your day?” Wes asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his Wranglers and casually striding towards her.

“Okie dokie,” Carrie said, brightly. “Ready for our date?” Trying to move past Wes, Carrie headed towards the door.

Wes took his hand from his pocket, grabbing Carrie’s shoulder and stopping her. “Not so fast. Have a seat. I want to talk to you.”

Her fingers now frantically twisting the little horse, Carrie looked from Wes to the doorway.

If Wes hadn’t been so upset, he might have thought her attempt at escape was cute. “Sit.” Wes pointed to the large four-poster bed.

The four-poster bed had been Carrie’s dream since she was a little girl. Wes was happy to make it a part of his renovations when he changed the bunkhouse to their love nest, as Carrie called it. He had found the perfect four-poster antique frame, and Carrie loved it. Recently, complaining their mattress was too firm, Wes had bought a deeper mattress and feather bed for Carrie. When he had piled the fourteen-inch mattress and feather mattress topper that Carrie required, they had found it was too high for her to get into by herself, or bend over. That would not do. Wes had brought in the little milking stool from the barn and put it at the foot of the bed. It held a special memory for both, as it was on that little milking stool that Carrie had received her first spanking from Wes.

The sound of his voice brought a hint of fear to Carrie’s eyes. Stepping up on the stool, she quickly sat down on the edge of the bed.

Wes stood in front of her, legs spread, arms crossed. “Is there something you need to tell me, Carrie Ann?”

Carrie squirmed, fiddling with the charm.

“Don’t,” Wes said, quietly. Uncrossing his arms, Wes took Carrie’s hand down from the little horse that looked just like Mabel. “You’ll break it.”

Placing her hands demurely in her lap, Carrie heaved a sigh. “It just came out. I felt terrible, and I apologized to Mama. It won’t ever, ever happen again. I’ve just been so stressed.” Carrie peeked up from under her lashes.

“Darn right, it won’t happen again, Carrie,” Wes interrupted. “I have half a mind to call Jessica right now and tell her that you can no longer handle your responsibilities as Matron of Honor. This entire ranch is not going to tippy-toe around you while you act however you want, blaming life circumstances for your nasty behavior.”

Carrie begged, “Please don’t do that, Daddy. I want to help with the wedding.”

Wes held his hand up to her. “No ‘Daddy’, right now, Carrie.”

Her chocolate brown eyes widened, and she looked up at him. It tugged at his heartstrings, but he had to get through to her.

“I am still your loving daddy, and you are my little girl. But right now, I am your husband and I am dealing with my disrespectful, errant wife. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you want to tell me what you said to Mama?”

Carrie shook her head, ashamed.

“Fine. You can keep it to yourself, I really don’t want to hear it anyway.” It would only add to the anger he felt, and Wes did not ever want to feel angry towards his wife. “You will be thoroughly punished. And you will be going back to apologize to Mama again, with a tear-stained face.”

“What about our date?” Carrie asked, wringing her hands in her lap.

Wes laughed, fuming at her request. “Date? You have a date with the paddle tonight, young lady. And a date with your strap, tomorrow.”

Silently, Carrie gaped at Wes. He had never given her a paddling and strapping as a punishment. “But…”

“Carrie. You have crossed a very, very hard line for me. I have been patient, I have been understanding, and I have spanked you to set you straight. None of that is working. This is not a fun, cute oops, moment. This is a serious transgression. I will not allow anyone to speak to the matriarch of this family in a way that does not reflect the amazing woman that she is. Just as I would not allow anyone to speak to you in a disrespectful manner.”

Tears formed in Carrie’s eyes, but for once, they did not soften Wes’ resolve. Wes knew what Carrie needed right now, was not softness, but unrelenting discipline. He was sure she felt terrible for snapping at Mama and though she would hate the punishments during the sessions, she would feel absolved of the guilt she was carrying. As well as be sure not to make such a mistake again.

“You are going to pull your panties down around your thighs, turn and stand on the stool, and bend over the edge of the bed.”

Hesitantly, Carrie looked at Wes. Unsmiling eyes locked on her. Wes did not move, waiting patiently.

Giving him one last, shy look, Carrie stood on the stool, reaching up under her dress and pulling down her pale, yellow panties. Any other day, the sight of her removing those yellow panties would have had Wes ready to throw her onto the bed to do other things, but not today. He wanted to punish her.

Leaving her panties around her thighs, as he had commanded, Carrie turned on the stool and leaned her upper body over the bed.

“Lift your dress.”

With a little groan, Carrie slowly reached behind her for the hem of her skirt. Staying in place over the bed, she pulled the material up and over her bottom. Her bare skin was on display to him, her bottom curving over the edge of the bed perfectly, her legs taut as she stood, tippy toe on the stool underneath her.

Wes took his time going over to the closet to retrieve the paddle, hanging from its red ribbon. Wes hated to use the special Christmas paddle for this. His anger had dissolved, leaving a lingering disappointment behind. How could Carrie do such a thing?

Returning to the bed, Wes felt sad to see Carrie was crying quietly. Knowing she was ashamed of what she had done, but also knowing it was his job to see that she didn’t repeat the mistake, Wes raised the paddle. There would be no lecturing, there was no need. There would only be discipline, leaving his bride a sore little mess for the rest of the evening.

The wooden paddle landed with a crack, right in the center of Carrie’s bottom. Lifting the paddle, Wes could see that it had instantly reddened her skin. Every time the paddle landed, Carrie cried out. Wes continued to paddle her bottom until it was crimson. When the punishment was over, Carrie was a sobbing mess and lay limp over the bed.

As much as Wes wanted to gather Carrie into his arms and let her sob onto his chest, it was not yet time for aftercare. Instead, he left her on the bed, hanging the paddle back in the closet. Returning to the bed, Wes said, “To your corner.”

Sniffling, and wiping at her eyes, Carrie quickly hurried down from the stool and shuffled, panties still around her thighs, to her ‘naughty corner’. Another one of Wes’ designs, the large corner to the left of the bed was empty, save for a gold framed mirror that hung level with Carrie’s face. He liked his naughty girl to be able to see her tears, as well as her man, watching her, in the reflection.

Once Carrie was in place, Wes sat down in the chair that he kept across from the naughty corner. “Lift your dress and hold it around your waist.”

Carrie obeyed, lifting her skirts to reveal her reddened bottom. Wes was careful never to spank Carrie hard enough to do any damage, but when he was punishing her, he liked to see the evidence. Standing still, Carrie held her skirts, bunched up in her hands on either side of her waist.

“Higher.”

Lifting her skirts to her midback, Carrie sniffled, looking pleadingly at Wes in the mirror.

Enjoying the sight of Carrie’s bare legs, yellow panties wrapped tightly around her thighs, leading up to the lovely bottom he had just rightfully burned red, Wes gave his girl a reassuring smile. There was only so much a daddy could take before he wrapped his wayward little girl in his arms and kissed away her tears.

This time was different, and Wes wanted to be sure that he left no room for doubt in his wife’s mind that her behavior was unacceptable. Wes stood from the chair, looking at Carrie in the mirror, but not crossing the room to her. “I’ll bring your dinner. Don’t move a muscle, or that paddle will be back down from the wall faster than you can blink those brown eyes, wife.”

Wes turned and left the room, not wanting to be deterred by the pitiful reaction on Carrie’s face.

Leaving their house, Wes headed down the hill to the big ranch house. He wanted to apologize to Mama, and he needed a little breathing room from Carrie. Living a full-time domestic discipline marriage was not an easy job, especially when you coupled it with being the daddy of a feisty little girl, but Wes wouldn’t have it any other way. Smiling at the thought of his naughty little minx standing, bared, in the corner, Wes opened the back door entering the kitchen.

After a heartfelt apology, and Mama’s reply of, “Don’t be too hard on her, Weston,” Wes returned to the love-nest with a heavy basket that Mama had lovingly packed with cold brisket, sliced bread, and leftover pie.

Wes made a little plate for Carrie, skipping the dessert. The pie was for good girls and would have to wait for another day. Wes carried the plate to the bedroom. Reaching the doorway, Wes was pleased to see that Carrie hadn’t moved an inch. He was beginning to feel sorry for the little thing. It was time for some tender loving care.

Placing the plate on top of her dressing table, Wes said, “You can pull your panties up.” He sat down in the chair, watching her struggle with the elastic waist, gingerly pulling them up over her bottom and into place. The material of the rosy skirt swished as it fell into place.

“Come here, Carrie,” Wes softly said, holding his arms open wide towards her.

Carrie turned and quickly crossed the room, throwing herself into Wes’ lap.

“Ouchie,” Carrie cried out as her bottom contacted Wes’ thigh. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, Carrie mumbled into his shirt collar. “I’m sorry, Wes. I don’t know what came over me.” Wiping her nose with the tissue Wes handed her, Carrie said, “Is Mama much upset?”

“No, baby. She’s quick to forgive. She sent you dinner.” Wes nodded to the food on the table. Carrie peered over Wes’ shoulder at the plate. Her brow furrowed, and she looked at Wes, curiously. Mama always sent dessert, with every meal.

“Little girls being punished do not get dessert with their dinner.” Carrie’s bottom lip stuck out just a bit. Wes saw the shine in her eyes that came when he referred to her as ‘little girl’. Snuggling in against him, Carrie whispered, “Sorry, Daddy.”

Rubbing Carrie’s back with his hand, Wes propped his chin on top of her head. “Carrie, you can't do that again,” he said sadly. “I was so disappointed to hear that you had spoken that way to Mama.”

Bursting into tears, Carrie promised Wes that it would not happen again, and he believed her. Wes murmured sweet nothings to his little girl while drying her tears.

Carrie didn’t want dinner, but Wes insisted she ate half the food, knowing that the plate would have been cleared, had he put the pie on it instead. Cleaning up the crumbs and taking the dishes to the kitchen, Wes returned saying, “Straight to bed, Carrie girl.”

“But, the sun is still out,” Carrie protested.

“The sun does not set early for bad girls. I want you in bed.” Sleeping on your tummy, with a bottom too sore to lay on, Wes added to himself. “Arms up.” Standing behind Carrie, Wes unzipped the dress, pulling it up and over her head. He hung it back on the hanger, placing it in the closet. Wes went to the dresser and got Carrie’s white cotton nightgown, the one with the pink bow, from the drawer. Once he had Carrie dressed, Wes pulled the covers back on the bed. Carrie climbed up on the stool crawling into the bed, snuggling deep into the feather mattress topper. “Ouchie,” she said, quickly flipping onto her tummy. Pulling the covers over her, Wes kissed her head. “Sleep tight, my little Carrie girl.”

* * *

The sky turned a dusty rose as the orange ball of fire rose over the Texas plain. Leaning on a fence post, Wes stared as the daily morning miracle unfolded. After Kevin’s death, Wes had taken to riding Mabel early hours when the stars were still out, returning to watch the sunrise. The routine had continued. Wes felt peace watching the morning sun, knowing it was a constant in this unpredictable world.

Checking his watch, Wes saw that it was time to leave for the airport. Pleased with the mended fence, Wes said goodbye to the sun, heading for his truck. It was a long drive to the airport, but Wes never minded a few hours of solitude, driving his trusty companion over the Texas roads.

The sun was a glaring yellow ball, hanging high in the sky, by the time Wes reached the airport. Parking, he took a moment to stretch out his limbs, cramped from the drive, heading towards the sign marked, “Arrivals, Guests.”

A nervous-looking, thin, young lady with pink cheeks and a disheveled auburn ponytail lugged a tattered, green suitcase across the sidewalk. As the young lady was the only passenger remotely close to Buttercup’s age, Wes hesitantly approached her.

“Buttercup?” Wes asked.

Looking up, a wave of relief washed over the pale, drawn face. “Yes, sir,” Buttercup replied. Her voice was high and clear, and timid. “Weston, right?”

Only Mama called Wes, Weston. Carrie had tried it on a time or two, but Wes had quickly put a stop to that. It was never a good idea to let your girl get too big for her britches. Wes decided against correcting Buttercup, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she already looked.

“Yes, pleasure to meet you, Buttercup. Let me take your bag for you.” Wes reached out to grab the handle of the giant case.

Nervously, Buttercup answered, “I have it, but thank you,” drawing the suitcase behind her and giving Wes a tight-lipped smile.

The muscles of the young woman’s arms tightened as she pulled at the case. She was much too thin. Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her lavender shirt was wrinkled, and her faded jeans hung from her gaunt frame. Wes could not allow her to drag the monster sized luggage all the way back to the truck.

Approaching Buttercup as he would a spooked horse, “I’ll take good care of it,” Wes said softly. Wes took the handle from Buttercup without touching her hand. Giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Wes gestured towards the truck. “We’re this way.”

Walking slowly through the parking lot, Wes tried to make polite small talk. “Did you have a nice flight, how about this weather,” things of that nature. Buttercup only answered in nods and murmurs. Wes suddenly felt a strong homesickness for his wife. Carrie would have known just what to say. Having a light and funny manner about her, Carrie would have had Buttercup laughing by now. Since Carrie needed to be on the ranch to support Jessica this morning, Wes would try to make Buttercup as comfortable as possible.

Wes lifted the suitcase into the truck bed. Walking over to where Buttercup stood, Wes opened the passenger door for his guest. Taking one, long look at him, Buttercup anxiously climbed into the cab.

Shutting the door, Wes walked over to the driver’s side. This was going to be a long, awkward drive. The poor thing was clearly nervous as a long-tailed cat on a porch full of rocking chairs. Once again, Wes wished Carrie were here with him, instead of setting up decorations on the ranch.

After a few minutes of idle chatter, Buttercup took to constantly checking her phone. A look of almost fear came to her face each time a message flashed on the screen. Wes could not make conversation with her, and eventually, he gave up. Carrie was the only person in the world who could get Wes chatting idly, and Wes didn’t mind the silence. As Mama always said, “A meaningful silence is better than meaningless words.”

Keeping his hands at ten and two, Wes navigated the dusty, Texas roads back to the ranch, feeling sorry for this scraggly little girl next to him. Maybe the tender loving care of family was what Buttercup needed, Wes thought, pleased that Buttercup would be staying with Ray, Jessica, and Evan for a few weeks. Wes hoped they could help this girl through whatever it was that had made her carry an air of sadness around her. It was a special gift to be able to get to the center of another human’s pain, and Jessica and Ray had that gift. Buttercup would be in good hands.