Page 8 of His Naughty Girl

I had no doubt that Andrea’s punishment was necessary. If she’d done something to earn a spanking on her very first day, she clearly needed firm guidance to help her adjust to her new life. Part of me felt sorry for her, though, at the same time. New girls had a hard enough time getting adjusted to Cato, even when they didn’t have to face their elder’s justice as soon as they arrived.

I picked up my phone again, studying Andrea’s photo more closely. There was something in her eyes beyond the defiance, I thought—as if vulnerability and strength had mingled in her heart—and it called to me. I found myself wondering what hervoice sounded like, what made her laugh, what dreams and ambitions she’d had before coming to Cato.

As an associate of the Weathers household, I had the right to request a date with Andrea. If we hit it off, I would have the chance to guide her, to mentor her… and yes, to discipline her myself if needed. I felt my cock start to swell along my thigh, and I knew what I had to do. I tapped out the message to Devin before I headed out to check the combine.

Hey, boss! Can I come over for dinner tonight?

Punishments in the Weathers household took place after dinner. To ensure that the miscreant felt as much embarrassment as possible about her naughty conduct, everyone present witnessed her correction.

Sure thing, Dylan,came the reply, as I walked out across the field.I think you’ll like Andrea. There’s a good girl in there struggling to get out.

Andrea

Thankfully the ride in Devin’s pickup truck from the center of Cato to the development where the Weatherses lived only took five minutes or so. Devin told me about the town’s history, but I couldn’t seem to retain any of that information; the mere sight of his enormous, callused right hand on the steering wheel set my heart racing.

The truck rumbled to a stop in front of a charming two-story farmhouse. Its white clapboard siding gleamed in the late afternoon sun, and cheerful red shutters framed each window. A wraparound porch, complete with a porch swing, gave the house a welcoming air that belied the anxiety churning in my stomach.

As Devin cut the engine, the front door swung open. Three women emerged, descending the porch steps with graceful, measured movements. My breath caught in my throat as I realized this must be Greta Weathers, along with Lila and Lydia, the other girls living in the household.

Greta was a striking woman in her mid-forties, her blonde hair neatly styled and her curves accentuated by a modest floral dress. Her warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, but there was a firmness in her gaze that made me instinctively want to stand up straighter.

Flanking her were two younger women, both stunningly beautiful in their own ways. One had long chestnut hair that fell in soft waves down her back, while the other’s auburn locks were plaited into an intricate braid. They wore identical powder-blue dresses that fell just below the knee, cinched at the waist with white sashes.

As Devin opened my door, I stumbled out on shaky legs, suddenly very aware of my city clothes—a knee-length skirt and blouse that had seemed perfectly modest this morning, but now felt scandalously revealing.

“Welcome, Andrea,” Greta said, her voice warm but authoritative. “We’re so pleased to have you join our household.”

I mumbled a thank you, my cheeks burning as I felt everyone’s eyes on me. Greta turned to the two younger women. “Lila,Lydia, please show Andrea around the house and then take her to her room. Make sure she changes into proper clothing.”

The girls nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

As they led me into the house, I couldn’t help but feel impressed by its interior. Sunlight streamed through large windows, illuminating polished hardwood floors and walls adorned with tasteful artwork. The air was filled with the comforting scent of freshly baked bread and something floral—lavender, maybe.

Lila and Lydia guided me through each room, their soft voices explaining the function and rules of each space. The kitchen gleamed with modern appliances, while the living room boasted big sofas and a large fireplace. A formal dining room held a long table that could easily seat twelve.

As we entered the living room, my eyes were immediately drawn to the large stone fireplace that dominated one wall. The mantelpiece above it was adorned with family photos and decorative knick-knacks, but there was one item that stood out starkly against the homey backdrop.

Hanging from a brass hook was a long, thick strip of dark leather. It was about two feet long and maybe two inches wide, with a wooden handle at one end. My tummy flipped as I realized what it must be. The family strap Mr. Weathers had mentioned in the rules.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. The leather looked well-worn and supple, its surface gleaming dully in the afternoon light. I could almost feel its weight, imagine the sting it would impart when brought down on bare skin. A shiver ran through me, equal parts dread and an unwelcome anticipation I pushed away immediately.

“What’s that?” I heard myself ask, so softly I could barely hear myself. I knew the answer, of course, but some part of me needed to hear it confirmed.

Lila and Lydia exchanged a glance, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and resignation.

“That’s… well, that’s the family strap,” Lila finally said, her voice soft. “Mr. Weathers only uses it for serious offenses.”

Lydia nodded, adding, “It’s not something you want to become acquainted with, believe me. A regular spanking is bad enough, but the strap…” She trailed off, shuddering slightly.

I swallowed hard, unable to look away from the implement. “How… how often does he use it?” I asked, morbid curiosity overriding my better judgment.

“Not very often,” Lila assured me quickly. “Maybe once a month, if that. And only for really serious infractions.”

“Like what?” I pressed, even as part of me screamed to change the subject.

Lydia bit her lip, considering. “Well, last time… I… well, I snuck out to meet a friend in town. Mr. Weathers said it was dangerous and disrespectful.”

I nodded mutely, my mind racing. Would my attempted escape back in the city be considered serious enough to warrant the strap? The thought made my knees weak.

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