From the Top Shelf - Dana and the Drifter

Today's story is the prologue from Abigail Armani's latest book, Dana and the Drifter. The book describes the relationship between a feisty, talented artist and a strong-willed, handsome cowboy. If you like cowboys - with or without their shirts - and spanking romance, then this is for you.

"Take off your clothes."

Dana blinked. "What - all of them?"

"Every stitch."

"Oh. But..." She cast him a pleading look which was answered by an impassive stare from midnight-blue eyes and a slight quirky raise to his eyebrow as he waited for her to obey. She pouted and fluttered her eyelashes - it was worth a go - it sometimes worked. Alas, not today.

"Now, Dana." He strode across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her as she resigned herself to the inevitable and slowly began unbuttoning her shirt.

"I said I'm sorry," she ventured, as her bra and jeans joined the discarded shirt on the floor.

"Not good enough. I warned you not to ride Black Jack, yet you disobeyed me - again."

Dana gulped. It was true. Black Jack fascinated her - he was a beautiful, vibrant horse, all muscle and solid bone, with a sleek black coat, a fiery glint in his eyes, and a temperament to match; he responded only to Ethan, a fact proved all too clearly as he whinnied his outrage and reared only moments after Dana struggled to mount him, sending her tumbling from the saddle to land ignominiously in the dirt. Stunned and winded, she had lain there as Black Jack towered above her, thrashing the ground with his powerful hooves. If Ethan hadn't come rushing over to scoop her up out of harm's way... She pushed the thought aside, tacitly acknowledging that she deserved this spanking.

"Sorry," she repeated, biting her lip apprehensively.

Ethan looked pointedly at the pile of clothes on the floor. Following his gaze, Dana quickly picked them up, folded them, and set them on a chair, where she lingered wearing only the briefest pair of panties. With a sigh, she slid them down her creamy thighs and placed them on the chair. She stood before him, keenly aware of her nudity, and the fact that her rose-tipped nipples had hardened in greeting. She hated it when she had to strip for a spanking - it was much more fun when he undressed her. But fun wasn't exactly on the agenda right now. She had been disobedient and foolish, and now it was time to pay the price... on her naughty bottom.

"Come here, Dana." Ethan's left hand shot out and patted the bed. Such a large hand. Hard, like the cast iron skillet she used for cooking pancakes.

Her feet carried her reluctantly forward as her eyes remained fixed on his hand. Then that same hand raised to cup her chin and tilt her head up. His eyes met hers.

"Why am I going to spank you, Dana?"

"I messed up," she admitted. When no immediate response was forthcoming, she elaborated. "I was disobedient, and I put myself in danger. And I'm sorry ... real sorry."

"I know," he said, in a tone that was soft yet firm. "You know the score. Over you go."

A moment later she was in the all-too familiar position over his powerful thighs, staring at the rug. She felt his hand rest for a brief moment on her bared bottom and held her breath, waiting. There came a feather-light caress across her trembling globes, followed by a loud Crack! as the ringing slap echoed around the bedroom. Stoically, she refrained from yelping, instead she screwed her eyes tight shut and prepared to endure as once again Ethan's palm swept down with a resounding smack.

Ethan eyed Dana's rounded bottom wolfishly. He never tired of looking at her curves. Her buttocks quivered and jiggled with every spank before bouncing back for more, the twin hemispheres forming an irresistible target for his punishing hand. Already the creamy flesh had taken on a pink hue. Spanking more forcefully now, he settled into a steady rhythm, administering a sequence of fast-paced spanks.

Dana began to squirm and wriggle, emitting a series of muted yips and yelps, and then as the spanks descended harder and faster she abandoned her stoic intent and hollered loudly. The sting in her sensitive rear end was building as Ethan brought his hand down hard, spanking first one cheek, then the other, then a series of upward spanks catching the underside of both jiggling cheeks.

"Ow! OWWW!" she squealed, her legs kicking in protest. "It hurts! It hurts!"

"It's supposed to." Another slap descended on her sit spot, and then he deliberately spanked that same spot over and over, eliciting a long wail from Dana. "This is for your disobedience." Down came his hand again, sending her cheeks jiggling. "I was worried about you, woman." A sequence of hand prints now adorned her cheeks. "You could have been badly injured." Pink turned to red as he spanked on, driving the lesson home. "Dammit, Dana - you could have been killed!"

Dana squealed loudly, unshed tears pricking her eyelids and threatening to spill over.

"I-I know... Owww!" she spluttered. Though she tried to wriggle frantically, Ethan had her in a secure hold, locking her legs together with his own, rendering her immobile. All she could do was pound her fists into the rug and wail out her torment as her bottom deepened to a rich shade of red. Truly, it felt as though it was on fire and she felt as though she would never be able to sit for a week. "No more! No more!" she pleaded.

"I'll be the judge of that," said Ethan. He delivered more swats, covering the whole expanse of her peachy curves, but they were less forceful now, winding down after the fast hard volley. At length, he paused to stroke her burning mounds, his hand gentle now. "A spanked bottom never killed anyone, Dana. But you could have been killed under the hooves of that stallion."

There was such wistful tenderness in his voice that Dana's tears spilled down her cheeks and she emitted a choking sob. Gently, Ethan raised her up and kissed away her tears.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, honey. But you need to learn that I mean what I say, and that I always, always have your best interests at heart."

"I know that," sniffled Dana. "And I'm very sorry. Do you forgive me?"

"Of course I forgive you." He reached to smooth the hair away from her eyes. "You're my whole life. I love you. But that doesn't excuse you from standing in the corner," he added, masking a grin.

"Oh darn it, not the corner." She pouted and half-smiled simultaneously. He knew she hated the humiliation of standing in the corner.

"Only for ten minutes. Off you go, wife. I'll just sit here and admire the view."

So Dana moved to the dreaded corner and stood facing the wall, her red bottom throbbing.

Pausing briefly, she turned and whispered, "I deserved that. I love you, Ethan."

He smiled endearingly. "I know."

And as the minutes ticked slowly by, he thought back to a time just over a year ago when his life had been so different. He'd been happy enough, but there'd been something - or someone - missing. That someone was Dana. He smiled, remembering...

Doesn't that make you want to read more?  Dana and the Drifter is available here.