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He moved in close and spoke tersely. “Shall I take you back to the shed?”
“No, no, sir.”
“Then turn around.”
“Please, sir, no!” Still she hadn’t the guts to turn around and show the man her nakedness.
“Don’t be shy, girl,” the judge broke in. “I’ve seen more women in such circumstances than you can count.”
The storm in her brain went on, even when Hannah finally closed her eyes and willed her body to make an about face. As her glorious features came into view, Judge Boone and her husband surveyed the bounty of Hannah’s lovely body, her swelling breasts, the gentle curve at her waist and the erotic way her hips flared with nothing short of admiration tinged with lust.
“Now tell the man what he wants to know,” Daniel ordered. “Why such a hard punishment? And look at him when you speak.”
Oh! What a greater horror could there be than this? Hannah’s lids fluttered open, while a pair of errant tears dislodged from her eyes and made tiny rivers along her dirty cheeks. “I, sir … I, um… I repeatedly defied Daniel’s orders not to seek out my brother.”
“That ruffian, Beau?”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge inspected her face with a haughty air then finally said: “Your husband is a wise man. Your brother is not. The boy consorts with thieves and gamblers and no counts who would prey as easily on you as they prey on him. I’d think an intelligent woman like you would see that and keep her distance.”
“Yes, sir. I should have done so, sir.”
The judge took a deep breath, then looked back at Daniel. “So, what does it take to get your wife back in the kitchen and brewing me that cup of coffee I was looking forward to?”
“Oh, she’s due another twenty minutes of penance, but I suppose a quick caning would do as well.”
“I’m sure,” the man smiled. “You mind if I do the honors?”
“Not at all.” Daniel moved off and grabbed the switch he planned for Hannah’s final punishment. “I was aiming for her thighs,” he added as he handed the man the long, slender branch.
Seeing the exchange, Hannah shuddered deeply. She was about to turn around and offer the man her bottom—which would have been a far more appealing way to take the blows—but the judge stopped her.
“You can take them face forward, Hannah. It looks to me as if your arse end has already had enough beating for one day. Besides, afterwards, when you look down at your nakedness, the remaining evidence might appeal to your better self and stop such foolishness from happening again. You suppose?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now brace yourself.”
The judge moved in quickly to her side, and while Hannah closed her eyes—no way would she look now—the man rifled off six vicious thwacks of the stinging switch, landing the cuts evenly down her thighs, from the crook of her groin where the cut was most viscous to a few inches above her knees. Her plaintive moans were more internal than her earlier response to the pain Daniel levied against her body. The sound barely vented from her lips, and yet, the heavy load of anguish behind it was clearly evident to both men.
For a few moments after the switching ended, no one said a word. The air was teaming with the sounds of birds, the whinny of a horse and the buzz of bees. In that time, the immediate pain receded on Hannah’s thighs, although a throbbing more internal heat remained. While she suffered in that immovable silence, the two men felt the experience through every roused nerve.
“How about my coffee?” the judge finally broke the mood, as he tossed the switch into a nearby bush and turned toward the porch.
“I’ll join you there in a moment,” Daniel said.
“Good, good. I’m afraid we have another wayward woman to talk about.”
In the midst of her misery, the judge’s words brought Hannah around, although she didn’t dare question him about what he meant. But of course, he meant Jolie. Why else would he be here?
Oh! Dear God, what had she done now? She stared at him in wonder watching the aging jurist take the porch steps in a couple of long strides. He was in the house with the screen door banging behind him before even Daniel could offer a comment.
Hannah scurried to dress, taking time to briskly wash her hands and face and comb her hair. She still felt like hell. Her stomach ached from lack of food, her head from lack of sleep, and her bottom and thighs throbbed hotly with every move she made. The feel of her clothes against her flesh was another uncomfortable torment. But for the moment, she put all these p
ersonal concerns aside, as she swept into the kitchen and turned on the stove. The Judge wanted coffee, he’d get his coffee.
The two men sat in the parlor talking, well within her hearing distance.
