Captured by Time by Carolyn Faulkner, Alta Hensley Page B

could handle the job.
    Jude didn't much believe in delaying what needed to be done, no matter how distasteful it might be… and it was to him, at least to have to be quite this harsh with her. Oh, there were definite stirrings between his legs, but overall, he preferred to have her over his lap and be spanking her with his hand, the way God intended, so that she could feel a closeness and intimacy with him—especially with his hand swatting her backside—that this position was definitely lacking.
    But sometimes sterner measures were called for, and she had already shown an appalling lack of respect for his wishes. He intended to rectify the situation now, before she did something he was going to regret. They were of different beliefs, different lives, different in more ways than he could put his finger on. But she was in his world now, and it was his duty to show her what would be expected.
    As he brought the wide leather strap down across her cringing bottom for the first time, and the heavy thwack, as well as the resultant bellow of agony she issued, resounded within the small room, he began to speak, ignoring both of the other sounds. "I don't like to do this, Cimmy. I would much prefer it if you had done as you were told and kept your arms out of my way so that, instead of yelling and moaning because you're getting your little behind blistered, you were doing it because of my mouth between your legs. But you're a stubborn woman, and despite the fact that you say you're a doctor, I can't help but think you're not very smart. As I've pointed out to you on various occasions, one of which was just a few minutes ago, I have a gun. Secondly, you know I won't hesitate to spank you, or worse, if you don't obey me. And lastly, you can't help but realize that I'm a hunted man, and that I live a very dangerous life. I'm sorry that you got tangled up in it. But until I can get you somewhere safe, I am responsible for you, and I intend to keep you safe. Even if that means that I have to tan your hide every hour on the hour to help you remember that I mean you to do exactly what I say!"
    The belt had risen and fallen more times than she could count, and he wasn't bothering to. How many stripes he gave her was of absolutely no meaning to him. He would be able to tell when she had accepted what he'd said by the quality and quantity of her tears, and he wouldn't let up until he got her to that point.
    Cimmy was in agony from the time that length first seared her flesh until the last. It was wide enough, and her backside was small enough that, even as he marched it up and down her butt and the backs of her thighs, every single livid, vivid stripe overlapped with at least one other—sometimes two or three, especially near the end, when it seemed that he had not only increased the strength of the lashes, but also the frequency, as if he was trying to drive her towards something. It took much longer than he had intended, but he set his teeth against wavering in his resolve, and didn't relent in the least.
    Finally, she collapsed onto the bed, and he could see that she was no longer fighting him, or herself, or even the belt itself. And even though he would have given anything to stop there, he knew he couldn't. Instead, he gave her ten more, delivered very slowly and deliberately, and they were the worst she had yet experienced, each one eliciting a full, howling scream of its own, until on the fifth one, her voice broke and she could barely whisper the depths of her misery, not that she didn't give it a good try every time that leather seared her flesh again.
    When he was done, he literally threw the belt away from him and got on the bed between her legs, leaving her bound as he lay atop her. For the second time, he felt he couldn't take the time to climb out of his pants, but simply rearranged things to release himself, his rampant erection springing from its confinement and swelling to even more enormous proportions.
    He could feel the