CHAPTER NINE:
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"Hi Yolanda!" Is the sheriff in his office?" The second Daisy, Randy's miniature dachshund, heard Justy's voice she ran out from her bed under Randy's desk to greet him. It was always a pleasure when Justy dropped by, as the two ladies in Randy's front office and just about every woman in the courthouse stopped what they were doing just to look at him. He never disappointed them, from his tussled brown hair and full height to the perfect Wrangler jeans, still starched and stacked from several days wear. Randy rose to greet him. "Happy birthday, old man!", Justy shouted, presenting him with a box of his favorite cigars. "As, usual, I didn't have time to wrap it." Randy smiled in appreciation but said, "You know I hate it when you spend your hard-earned money on me". "You say that every year", Justy replied. "I got paid today, so enjoy!" Randy opened the box with his pocket knife and breathed in the strong aroma of the cigars. It was the last week of pledging before the big Wrangler picnic the following Friday afternoon. Justy's ass was purple, yellow and blue from five weeks of paddling, but he cautiously took a seat in one of the two arm chairs across from Randy's desk. Randy winced in sympathy as he watched his godson sit down on the hard, wooden seat. Daisy jumped up to curl in Justy's lap. The two visited for a few minutes before Justy stood up to leave. "So what are you and Sandy doing for your birthday?", Justy asked. "Well, Sandy is in Fort Worth babysitting the grandkids. The girls and their families are coming in in a couple weeks and we'll celebrate then." "Well you can't be alone on your birthday!", Justy insisted. "Well, I was kind of hoping you could hustle up a couple of guys and join me for supper at Garcia's. My treat, say 6:00?" "Sounds great! I know Grady is working tonight, but it's poker night at Woody's, and he's going afterwards. I'll see who else I can round up. See you at G's at six." Later that night, the door at Garcia's opened, as Barney Dobb's six-foot frame completely filled the doorway. He wore his usual Wrangler jeans, gathered into a deep stack over his worn work boots, his ass and thighs stained brown by long hours spent in his old, worn leather saddle, which he refused to replace. ("This was my grandaddy's s-saddle. I don't want a new s-saddle!") His worn spurs jangled on the old linoleum floor as he walked. He moved cautiously toward the table where he had spotted Randy and Justy. "Hey, Barney", Randy said, standing up as Barney took an open chair at the large round table. He winced in pain as he sat his tough, aching butt down on the hard wooden chair next to Justy. "What's wrong, son?", Randy said, shaking his hand in a firm, solid grip. Randy could see the pain and exhaustion in his face. Barney didn't answer. "He got seven licks at Woody's last night, for being late to lineup.", Justy said, shaking his head in anger. "He stopped to change a tire for the Morales sisters, the cafeteria ladies. Anybody else would have driven on to save their own ass, but not Barney." "You're just like your dad, Barney.", Randy said, sympathetically. "It's just been a l-long, hot day in the saddle", Barney said quietly, "And I couldn't sleep at all last night.", wincing again as he shifted his weight in his chair to accommodate the severe bruising. "My b-butt throbbed all night long." Randy whistled silently, watching Barney struggle. "Shit. Seven licks? From Cooper? Were they hard?", Randy asked, knowing the answer. "Shit yes, they were hard!", Justy shouted, under his breath. "You were a pledge trainer. You know how hard they were." "Yeah, but I never gave a guy seven licks. Isn't that still the maximum you can give a pledge at one time?" "Yezzir", Barney said, running his hands through his thick, dark hair and rubbing his red eyes. "I was nine minutes late. I'm g-getting the last two licks t-tonight at Woody's. Nine o'clock sharp, by the clock on the w-wall." "Fuck that", Randy said, shaking his head. "I'll be there and I'll put a stop to that. Remember, I'm Alumni Advisor. I also happen to be the Sheriff." "P-please, Sheriff. I don't w-want him to know I t-told you. It's almost over. S-Say what you w-will about C-Cooper, but the guy can swing a p-paddle." "Several of us stepped up and offered to take some of his licks, but Barney refused". Justy added in anger. "Cooper busted his ass." "It w-was already b-busted. I didn't want the other g-guys to take l-licks for something I did". "Barney, you changed a tire for two old ladies!", Justy demanded, pounding the table for emphasis. "Those women helped raise us! I swear Cooper loves to paddle Barney's butt. He's as bad as Woody!" "Woody's licks are too hard. Even for a Wrangler", Randy said. "I've talked to him about it, but he insists he's only doing his job as 'Official Disciplinarian'. When we made him a full Wrangler, gave him a drummed-up title and and presented him with that paddle, we didn't know how hard he was going to use it. Then we found out how much he enjoyed paddling the guys." "Everybody knows Woody's into ass busting, and who knows what else," Justy said. "Woody and his 'Weapon of Ass Destruction'. But the actives have told us that if we call him on it, he'll kick us out and move back to Oklahoma. End of Wranglers. We all know that if Woody hadn't bought the old whorehouse a few years ago, Wranglers would have disbanded. That's why the Bigs keep dragging our pledge butts to Woody's to celebrate our "birthdays" and settle our poker bets. Barney, how many "birthdays" have you had since pledging began?" "Two, plus my real one in F-February." Barney forced a smile. "That's three swats plus three shots", and the B-Bigs drank the sh-shots.' "Weapon of Ass Destruction", Randy laughed at the term, smiling at the Big Brothers drinking the whiskey shots. "I've also had two "birthdays", Justy said. "And they were each a day apart - figure that one out! He never looks at your driver's license, and he always takes the word of an active over a pledge. But everybody likes Woody. We don't care that he gets off on it." "That's how pledging works, boys.", Randy said, "I've been there. It all ends next Friday afternoon. Cooper should have held Barney up as a shining example of what it means to be a Wrangler, instead of licking him for being late. Are the rest of you guys busted as bad as Barney?" "No, Barney's worse. And after last night - Barney, you can barely walk! All the guys have had enough, and we're all worried about the licks at the picnic on Friday. A couple of guys have said 'screw it' and say they're not going to the picnic. Cooper is a drunken asshole. All he does is make us swig bourbon, chew tobacco and give licks. He hasn't taught us one fucking thing. We don't know the history of the club, who founded it, or why. You always talk about the rich, ninety-five year history and the famous Wrangler alums, - governors, congressmen, big business men, etc. We don't know any of that shit. But I can tell you the name of Cooper's favorite horse growing up." Randy was seething mad. He could have put a stop to this before now, but didn't realize it was this bad. "I'll ask the Foreman if I can speak at the next chapter meeting. You guys need to know about the club's formation and traditions", Randy said angrily. "Have you told this to the Foreman? You told Andy you'd keep him informed." "Of course I have!, Justy demanded. "He just told me he'd 'take care of it'." "Barney, who the fuck is your big brother?", Randy asked in anger. "He's supposed to protect you from shit like this.", "Dennis P-Parman. He's a b-board member. I haven't s-seen him in two weeks," "The board hasn't shown up at the last two lineups," Justy added. "Nothing has changed, and I know why." He lowered his voice. "Cooper has set his sights on being Foreman next year. He's already invited the whole board trophy hunting in a few weeks. And they're going. He's gonna put them out with personal guides, in the pasture where they keep their biggest deer, the ones they sell to other ranchers. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. These are twenty-thousand-dollar trophy bucks. They live on protein and steroids. His father is going to feed everyone, provide all the whisky, and pay for the shoulder mounts." "No decent rancher would b-buy steroid-injected deer.", Barney stated wearily, rubbing his swollen, red eyes. "They sell them in Mexico, where they don't ask questions. They probably go to the cartels.", Justy said. "I'm on this!", Randy said. "The Wranglers don't need this. We need to kick Cooper out of the fucking club, and straighten out that board. And you tell your pledge buddies not to worry about the picnic. Those leather chaps are worth it. It's nothing compared to what they've already been through. Just then, the loud, squeaky door opened and Woody walked in. All three stood up to shake his hand. Randy invited him to join them, and the other two readily agreed. "Actually, Sheriff", Woody began, "I saw your patrol car and thought I'd visit with you while they package my order to go. I'm taking it to the bar. It's a Wrangler poker night." "Is the honor jar out?", Barney asked. 'The guys are good about p-paying. Y-you can join us. Besides, that stuff d-doesn't travel well." "We're going later", Justy said. Grady is coming after work and a few others. I'm trying to convince this old man to come too," winking at Woody while nodding toward Randy. "You know it's his birthday, right?" Woody's and Barney's eyes widened in surprise, directed at Randy. Randy's face was turning red. Woody took a seat at the table. "Well, well, Sherriff. it would be an honor to celebrate your birthday at the bar.", he said jokingly, with an evil grin. "Yeah, Woody", Randy said. "We were just talking about you and your 'Weapon of Ass Destruction'." I think I'll pass." The waitress came to the table with menus, which they didn't need. They ordered four "Numero Uno" dinners, a massive enchilada plate with rice, beans, crispy taco and a stack of flour tortillas. Randy was on duty, so he ordered a Big Red soda instead of his usual Lone Star. Any rural Texan knows that the sickening-sweet red soda is the perfect companion to a Mexican meal. The rest of the table followed suit. Justy retrieved his Cope can from his left back pocket, where he carried his chili pettine flakes. Of course he didn't dip, and never did, but there was a clear, white dip ring where it always settled snug in his back pocket. "That's four Unos, four Reds.", the waitress confirmed. "Thanks, Millie", Randy said. The other three smiled in appreciation. "Come on, Randy. Be a good sport!', Justy teased. "I think your bony ass could still take a lick. Bring back your good Ol' Wrangler days? Besides, the Actives say it's good luck to get a lick from Woody on your birthday. Be grateful you've only got the one birthday. I've had two so far, and my real one is coming up!" Randy smiled, his face redder now. "Speaking of licks, you guys shouldn't worry about the picnic. Sure, you get one from every active and alum there, but most of the guys go light. I know I always do. These guys all know what you've been through. And remember, despite what you've heard, this is your night. The actives and alums want it to be special for you." "Did you hear that, Woody?", Justy said, as Millie somehow delivered the four hot plates on a single, large tray in one trip. "Woody, I'm counting on you to go easy on these guys on Friday.", Randy said seriously, accepting the dip can from Justy and sprinkling the chili flakes across his sizzling hot plate. He handed the can to Barney. "They've all had more than their share of licks, and a lot of those are yours." "I don't know, Sheriff", Woody said, his evil grin aimed at Justy and Barney. "That's kind of my trademark." "Not on Friday it's not, you hear?' Randy was serious. Just then, Randy had an idea, a great idea, as he accepted a tortilla and began loading it with beans and rice. "Okay I'll do it!" He stated abruptly. "Do wh-what, Sheriff?", Barney asked for the group. "Take my birthday lick. From Woody. Tonight." "WHAT?!", Justy said in disbelief. "Come on Randy, we're messing with you. You are NOT going to take a lick from Woody!" "I am.... but on ONE condition." The other three men listened closely as Randy's voice grew quieter. "I take a scorcher from Woody, AND Woody agrees to go easy on all you guys at the picnic." Justy and Barney reacted with surprised laughter. Woody leaned back on his chair and stared intently at Randy. His dick was stirring in the crotch of his jeans. He had admired Randy's ass from the day he met him a few years prior, when he bought the whorehouse. He'd never seen a better-looking, middle-aged man, from his extreme height, to his neat, white hair and darker mustache, to his flat belly and of course, his tight, still-hot Wrangler butt. Sandy knew just how hot it was by the stares from women who seemed to admire his six-foot-four inch frame from the rear. Randy had stuck out his hand across the table. Woody shook his head but shook it firmly, as Justy banged his hands on the table in disbelief. "Randy, you crazy fuck!", Justy shouted angrily, under his breath. "Why would you agree to that! You can't take a lick like that! You haven't had a lick in thirty years!" "The hell I can't! You think I don't remember what it feels like?", Randy said, staring at Woody, knowing that he was soon going to make one of Woody's hottest dreams come true. "Some things you don't forget. And I promise you, you'll never forget it either." "Randy, you don't have to do this.", Woody said, hiding his excitement. "I would have gone easy on 'em just because you asked me to." "See, Randy? Woody, I'm taking his lick for him!", Justy said, again under his breath. "NO!", Randy said emphatically. "We shook on it. I'll see you tonight. I'm on duty till nine o'clock, so it'll be after that." "Oh shit, Sheriff.", Barney remembered.. "I left my pl-pledge sheet in my truck. You mind signing it? You're on it this w-week". "Sure Barney", Randy said, watching him slowly rise to his feet. Just then the squeaky door opened again as Cooper West himself entered the room and approached the table. Barney and Justy quickly rose to their feet with their eyes straight ahead, as their pledge trainer had taught them to do. "Hello Mr. West!", they both shouted, loud enough to be heard throughout the room. "As you were, pledges.", Cooper shouted, as the two men painfully took their seats. Randy rolled his eyes in anger as these two fine young men submitted themselves to a pathetic asswipe like Cooper. "D-D-Dobbs, I look forward to seeing your sorry ass later at Woody's. Nine o'clock.", Cooper said, swinging an imaginary paddle. "I'll b-be there, S-Sir", Barney stammered, stuttering more than usual. "Cooper, why don't you lay the fuck off him?" It was Woody, his face red with anger. "You busted his ass last night. He didn't deserve it then, and he doesn't deserve it now." "Well look who's talking! The official 'Wrangler Disciplinarian'. You like doing all the butt busting yourself, don't you Woody? Well, these guys respect ME now!" "We don't respect you, Cooper.", Justy said angrily, disregarding pledge protocol. "Not after the way you've treated Barney and some of the other guys. You've got ONE WEEK, before you turn back into the miserable piece of shit you've always been. Enjoy it." Coopers face grew red at being confronted by a pledge in front of Randy and Woody. "Uh, Sheriff? You were a pledge trainer. What would you have done if a pledge mouthed off to you like that?" A quivering Cooper demanded. "I never had a pledge talk to me like that, Cooper. Justy's a grown man and can say anything he wants. You've lost whatever authority you think you had over these guys." Randy went over to the counter to pay the check, while Barney, Justy and Woody dropped fives on the table for Millie. Cooper was shaking like a coyote with his foot in a trap. He turned to Woody. "Woody, I know Justy is one of your favorites. Would you mind giving him five licks for me tonight?" "FUCK YOU, Cooper. AND STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BAR!" Even if it was true about Woody, like everyone else, he had had enough of Cooper's bullshit. As much as he enjoyed the paddling, he truly liked all the boys, and to them it was 'all in fun'. He got no pleasure from abuse and humiliation. The Wranglers liked him back, and appreciated the use of his bar as a frat house. They especially liked the cheap beer and liquor prices. Randy long suspected that he undercharged them to keep them coming, obviously made possible by a nice income from old Oklahoma oil. And Randy didn't know many aging rodeo cowboys who could write a check for an old whorehouse and wear a ten-thousand-dollar Rolex. The restaurant had quieted down with everyone aware of the altercation but not clear on what it was about. Barney excused himself to go to his truck to get the pledge sheet. Randy noticed him limping slightly as he approached the door. A defeated Cooper West started to follow him out but was stopped abruptly by Randy's strong right arm. "AND"..., Randy said sternly and directly into Cooper's eyes. "your paddling days are over. You've abused your authority and ignored your duty as Pledge Trainer. You have failed miserably. You so much as TOUCH one of these guys between now and the picnic Friday, and you'll answer to ME. You hear me 'Mr. West'?" Cooper looked away and followed Barney out the door. Several minutes passed before Cooper returned, alone. "Where's Barney?" Randy cautiously asked. "I need to sign his pledge sheet." "Oh D-D-Dobbs? He sends his regrets. I sent him to go wash my car. Phelps, I need you to follow me to my place and pick up the pledge sheets and deliver them to Woody's for tomorrow. I'm in Dobb's truck." "Go fuck yourself, Cooper.", Justy said angrily. "Barney's got an exam tomorrow that he needs to study for, and you've got him washing your fucking Corvette! I have to go by the vet clinic to check on a sow that's in labor. The Sheriff's back on duty. Woody is pissed. Looks like you're on your own." Woody turned to Cooper and shouted under his breath. "You've got a mutiny on your hands, now that the pledges know what a shitty job you've done. I meant what I said. STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BAR!" Justy checked on the sow at the vet clinic. No piglets yet, but he cleaned up the stall, scooping the shit from around her and from a neighboring cow into a large slop bucket he kept for this purpose. He added water to the bucket as he always did so it would pour out easier. He put down fresh hay before heading to Woody's for poker. Back at his apartment, Cooper slammed the door of Barney's truck and took the concrete steps to the second floor two at a time. Once inside, he opened a new bottle of Makers whiskey, sat on his couch and took a big swig in the dark. He didn't need a glass. A short time later, a weary Barney knocked on his door and delivered the keys to Cooper's shiny, yellow Corvette parked directly below. Cooper handed Barney his truck keys and started to shut the door without saying thank you or goodbye. Barney stopped the door from closing with his boot. "Listen, s-sir, about those two licks t-tonight. I was w-wondering if I c-could take 'em n-now instead of later. I've really got t-to study for an exam tomorrow. I've got my pledge p-paddle in my tr-truck if you need it." Obviously, Barney hadn't heard that the Sheriff had laid down the law about no more paddling, and he wasn't welcome at Woody's anyway. Cooper was prepared to let him off the hook, but the bourbon he was swigging had other ideas . Barney stared at the floor, embarrassed at his request, then spotted Cooper's Pledge Trainer paddle on the kitchen counter. "Sure, D-D-Dobbs," Cooper slurred slowly. "I'm happy to help you out. Come on in." Barney's ass was seriously aching from the night before, and he didn't want to be there any longer than he needed to. He reluctantly handed Cooper the paddle from the counter and emptied his back pockets. He moved to the middle of the room, slid his hand down the front of his pants, moved his junk up front, spread his long, bowed legs and bent over. He found the loops at the tops of his boots and hooked his fingers tightly in the position he had come to know so well. He stared straight at the wall ahead. He closed his eyes tight as he felt the familiar board take aim across the saddle-stained seat of his worn, tight Wranglers, and the dark purple bruising underneath. There was no conversation. "KA ---WHAAAAAAAACK !!!" Barney rocked forward in his boots but didn't attempt to get up. He gritted his teeth and remained in position. He waited for the second swat as Cooper steadied the paddle. "KA --- WHAAAAAAACK !!!" The hard swat landed in a second blaze of fire as Barney stiffly rose to his feet, breathing through gritted teeth. The deep bruising on his ass brought back the intense fire from the night before. He firmly shook Cooper's hand before retrieving the contents of his pockets. Accustomed as he was to the intense pain, he accepted the swats with the same gentlemanly dignity he always displayed. He nervously opened the door and quickly departed. Cooper returned to his couch and his bottle, confident that despite his drunken state that licks number eight and nine were as good as the previous seven. Barney stiffly walked a few doors down to Miguel's and Grady's apartment to calm down a little before driving home. Grady had just gotten home from his job at Best Buy. Once inside, he told them what had happened. "WHAT?", Miguel shouted. Haven't you heard? The Sheriff told Cooper 'no more paddling' until the picnic! Cooper is in deep shit when the sheriff finds out. He might even kick him out." "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me?", Barney demanded, his face red from pain and anger. He was too mad to stutter. "Shit, I was washing his fucking car. It's over now. Leave it be. I'm going home to st-study." Grady opened the freezer and retrieved the large bag of Costco frozen peas that the sheriff had given him to sit on. "Keep 'em. You need 'em more than I do.", he said, tossing the frozen bag to Barney. When Barney got downstairs, he tossed the bag onto the seat of his truck and slowly settled his bruised and battered backside down into the ice cold surface for the thirty-minute drive out to the ranch. TAKING ONE FOR THE TEAM Randy arrived at Woody's at about nine thirty, to a larger than normal crowd. Word had gotten out that he was going to take his birthday lick so that Woody would go easy on the pledges at the picnic. There were several active poker games, but he was greeted with smiles and handshakes. He walked over to Woody at the bar and shook his hand. Randy wore Wranglers and a white shirt most days, but today he had had a meeting and wore khaki pants, for a slightly dressier presentation. The brand of khakis he wore were western-styled, in a high-wasted fit identical to his Wranglers. The military-grade heavy khakis wore like iron and got the same extra starch he liked in his jeans. In addition, he had on his "duty belt", a thick, brown leather belt that he wore over his regular belt, that carried his pistol and holster on his right side and his handcuffs on the left. "Randy, are you sure about this? You want it now, or later"? Woody's paddle hung proudly from a thick wooden column that ran from the middle of the bar up through the ceiling. "Let's get this over with", Randy said, reaching up and handing it, handle-first to Woody across the bar. The room grew loud as the guys laid down their cards and scooted their benches back, forming a wide semicircle around the two men in the center of the room. Woody tapped the edge of the pool table with his paddle. Justy shook his head as Randy removed his gun from his holster, his wallet and red bandana handkerchief from his back pockets. He hiked up his khakis and spread his boots wide enough to lower his perfect butt for the paddle. He gripped his hands firmly on the edge of the table and stared straight ahead. Woody chose this particular spot as it provided the best views for his 'security' cameras, with clear images of Randy's face, butt and himself swinging the paddle. Since he never wore underwear, Woody wore a white bar apron over his Wrangler jeans, in case he had a visible hard on or worse, the spot of precum he could feel growing in his crotch. He slipped his right hand through the worn leather loop in the handle and gripped the paddle hard. He stood way to the left and back of Randy's waiting ass, framed perfectly by the empty holster on the right and the handcuffs on the left, allowing for a full right-handed swing with only a slight break in his elbow. He placed the paddle where he planned to land it, tapping it slightly before rubbing it in, steadying his stance. "THIS, GUYS, IS WHAT IS CALLED "TAKING ONE FOR THE TEAM!", Woody shouted, before nodding to the crowd of about twenty guys. "I can't watch this", Justy said to Grady, closing his eyes in a sympathetic grimace of pain. The guys knew what the nod from Woody meant, breaking into song. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU," "HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR SHER-IFFFFFFF," ........ " KA ———WHAAAAAAAAAAACK !!!" "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!" Justy opened his eyes as soon as the board landed in a hard, solid, wooden slap squarely across Randy's ass. Randy's head flew back on impact as his steady ass took in the hard swat. His ass exploded into old, familiar flames, which grew in the seconds that followed. His face was red and flushed in an extreme grimace of pain. He breathed in short gasps. It was without a doubt the hardest swat he had ever received. Randy slowly rose to his full height, backing away from the pool table. His hands flew to his ass as he stared at the ceiling and let out a huge "HOLY FUCK!!!" The silence was broken with the sounds of whistles and applause, as Randy turned around, his eyes watering, and shook Woody's hand, in the tradition he instinctively remembered from his Wrangler days. The crowd continued… "Sher-IFF!!!" "Sher-IFF!!!" "Sher-IFF!!!" Justy's eyes also filled with tears as he tenderly watched his godfather and mentor deal with the intense pain he hadn't felt in thirty years, along with the admiration of the crowd of guys, especially the pledges. Randy replaced his gun in his holster and wallet, and wiped his eyes with his bandana before replacing it in his other pocket. He began his slow walk to the bar where his whisky shot was waiting. Randy quickly downed the shot before turning to the cheering crowd a final time. The guys returned to their poker hands, all commenting to each other about Randy having "taken one for the team." Randy handled himself as best he could, standing at the bar with his right boot on the boot rail while Woody poured them both a glass of his finest brandy. He struggled not to rub his ass with his hands, remembering the Wrangler tradition of "taking your licks like a man", in respect of the shared experience of "butt busting" that generations of Wrangler men before him had experienced. He lit one of his birthday cigars and offered one to Woody. Randy picked up the paddle that was resting on the bar and examined the many signatures. Woody handed him the sharpie he kept in a glass on the bar. "I know most of these guys!", Randy said, choosing an available space to add his signature. He signed it simply "Randy Green" before drawing a shaky puff from his cigar and exhaling it over his perfect, white teeth. About that time a Wrangler active, Ivan Parker, approached the two men at the bar. "Woody, we need to borrow your paddle.", Ivan said, nodding to Randy, who was still examining the paddle. "Whose ass?" Woody asked. "Mine, I'm afraid.", Ivan said, shaking his head. "Should have folded. Apparently a high two-pair won't beat a full house." "No it doesn't, son." Randy said sympathetically, handing him the paddle handle-first. Woody and Randy went back to their conversation thick with smoke as the conversations in the card room quieted before the familiar, loud "KA---WHAAAAAAACK !!!" of the paddle across Ivan's ass startled both men. Randy winced in sympathy. The poker players erupted into laughter and applause as a jumpy, red-faced Ivan Parker returned the paddle to the bar before returning to the tables, rubbing his ass. Several guys, including Justy, came to the bar to purchase beers during the break. They all left with cigars, which Randy generously offered. Justy stayed to check on Randy. "How's your bony ass feeling, old man?", he asked sympathetically. "You know how it feels", Randy said, blowing a perfect smoke ring directly in his face. "Tingly, but not in a good way. And my ass isn't bony." "Oh come on, Randy,", Justy said jokingly. "Guys get to be your age and gravity takes over. Your butt is the first thing to go. Next, you'll get those big, huge old-man ears with hair growing out of 'em and your nut sack will go down to your knees." "Uh, ... would you like to borrow this, Randy?", Woody said, sliding the paddle in his direction. He was envious of the closeness between these two, closer than most fathers and sons. "Don't tempt me", Randy said, glaring at Justy. "And for your information, smartass ..... ", pausing before continuing, "the butt's not the first thing to go. Here, take the cigars and offer them to the rest of the guys. I can't smoke 'em once Sandy gets home anyway". "Speaking of Sandy", Justy said, "are you going to tell her about tonight?" "Shit, NO!", Randy said, exhaling another smoke ring. "Sandy hates Wranglers. She says I should act my age and stop hanging around you guys." "That would have been good advice tonight.", Woody said, his evil grin was back. "No shit!, Randy said, wincing as he said it, feeling a new 'aftershock' of fire from the hard swat. As the father of two girls, Randy enjoyed the camaraderie he had with the guys, and also knew the value of maintaining a "policeman" friendship with the Wranglers. He was a welcome and familiar sight at Woody's, often checking in to see if anyone needed a ride home. Randy finished his second glass of brandy and prepared to leave, just as two hard licks came from the card room. Randy and Woody both flinched on hearing it before exchanging a firm handshake as the thick smoke drafted over from the adjoining room. "No hard feelings, Woody. You call me if anybody needs a ride home, you hear?". Randy stiffly walked into to the card room to say goodbye to the guys. He looked over at Ivan Parker, who was now red-faced and bouncing in his chair as the others laughed. "You again, Ivan?", Randy said shaking his head. "You need to learn when to fold, son"., adding, with an evil grin, "I was hoping it was Justy." "He tries to bluff, but every time, he starts laughing!", one of the other guys said, dealing a new hand of cards. After Randy left, another wave of guys came in. Word had gotten out that Cooper West had given Barney the additional two licks, despite the direct order from Sheriff Randy Green that Cooper was not to paddle any of the pledges, especially Barney. Once Woody heard this, he became furious. He turned to one of the guys. "Watch the bar. I'll be back later." Fifteen minutes later Woody was climbing the steps outside Cooper's apartment. He pounded on the door. A drunk Cooper answered. Woody pushed his way through the door, grabbed Cooper by the front of the shirt, walked him backwards and threw him against the wall. A picture next to him fell from the wall and shattered. "SO YOU DID IT ANYWAY, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" "Did what?", Cooper drunkenly uttered. Woody raised his knee up the wall stopping firmly at the crotch of Cooper's jeans. He channeled every leather friend he had known in L.A. "I'M GOING TO BRING MY KNEE UP INTO YOUR FUCKING CROTCH SO HARD YOUR BALLS WILL COME OUT YOUR MOUTH!" Cooper was trembling with fear. He could smell the whisky and brandy on Woody's breath, combined with his own. "Oh, fuck, oh shit Woody! PLEASE! I'm sorry I - I" Woody spotted Cooper's Pledge Trainer paddle on the kitchen counter. He reached around and grabbed it. He lifted Cooper's chin with the paddle for emphasis. "How many licks did you give Barney?" Cooper didn't answer. "HOW MANY?" "Ni-nine." "Nine WHAT?", Woody demanded. "Nine, S-Sir!" Woody slowly lowered his knee, but kept the paddle at Cooper's throat. His eyes were tight and mean. He sternly whispered, "BEND OVER! NOW!!" Cooper sank into the wall. Woody knew Cooper would need something to steady himself, so he dragged him by the neck in front of the kitchen counter. Cooper was drunk, but about to sober up quick. "BACK UP !!" "MORE !!!" He tapped the insides of his thighs with the paddle. Cooper bent forward gripping the edge of the counter in his hands. "Please Woody I-I ..." "SPREAD 'EM! MORE!. EYES STRAIGHT AHEAD1 EYES ON THAT WALL! MOVE YOUR JUNK OUT OF THE WAY! COUNT 'EM OUT!!!" Woody's hard licks were legendary in the Wranglers, and every current member, active or pledge - over seventy guys, had felt one at least once. As pledges, they had to secure his signature on their pledge paddles, and with the signature came one of his extra hard licks. Hard as they were, they were a badge of honor, given and taken in fun and a highlight of pledging Wranglers. This was going to be different. This was a serious, no nonsense licking, Woody knew that in a real punishment paddling, the first lick and the last lick are the hardest. 'KA --- WHAAAAAAAAAACK !!!" Cooper yelled on impact. It was one of Woody's finest. Cooper failed to count it. "I TOLD YOU TO COUNT 'EM!" "ONE, Sir! Sorry, Sir!!" 'YOU FORGET AGAIN, THE LICK DOESN'T COUNT. YOU YELL LIKE THAT AGAIN, WE START OVER! UNDERSTAND? YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE THESE LICKS LIKE A MAN!" "Yes." Cooper stammered, trying to stay still. "Yes WHAT?" "Yes, SIR!" Woody was readying the next swat. He could feel his dick getting hard. "KA --- WHAAAAAAAACK!!!" Cooper pounded his fists on the counter, as his ass absorbed the fiery lick. He was crying tears. He yelled over his shoulder. "Two, SIR!!" The licks continued, with Cooper fighting not to shout and to stay in position. After the fifth lick, he sank to his knees. "BACK UP !!" "IN POSITION !" "NOW !!!, Woody shouted. Cooper dragged himself back into position, leaving his right sleeve wet with tears. Woody delivered a blistering two more hard swats, making the first seven Cooper had given Barney just the night before, all for changing a tire for two old ladies. Cooper broke position and turned around facing Woody. "I can't, Sir. I c-can't take any more swats!", Cooper pleaded, through clenched teeth and thick sobs. "YOU GAVE DOBBS NINE, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!" "I know, Sir. Barney is tougher than me! But I can't take it. I-I'll do anything!" 'TURN AROUND AND BEND OVER! NOW !!!", Woody demanded. "I'll do ANYTHING!" Cooper grabbed Woody's hard crotch in his right hand. His tearful eyes met Woody's straight on. He sank to his knees and rocked back on the heels of his boots, as he shakily unzipped the fly of Woody's jeans. Woody had suspected where Cooper's interest lay before, and a completely straight man would never have offered to blow another guy. Woody reached in his shirt pocket and found the last half of the cigar he had shared with Randy. He lit it and exhaled thick smoke into the air. Cooper had several trucker friends from the truck stop, which he visited secretly and regularly as they passed through headed east or west. The chances of any of them making a connection with the people he knew in town were non existent, or at least they were until this moment. The night had been too much for Woody, with the prized signature from the Sheriff on his paddle and the excellent lick that went with it, and now delivering the much-deserved punishment paddling to Cooper, whose ass had to be on fire. His hard cock was throbbing and dripping with pre cum. Woody was big and rock hard. Cooper was shaking but carefully took it all the way in, stopping as it filled his mouth deep into his throat. His tongue found the bulging vein that ran the length of the shaft, and he flattened his tongue into the broad mushroom head. Woody roughly guided him by the back of the head, forcing his way deep in Cooper's throat, filling it completely. Woody reached over and grabbed the half-drunk bottle of bourbon and took a full swing, offering it to Cooper. "SWIG IT!" He wasn't asking. Cooper took a swig of bourbon and returned to Woody, as the warm bourbon engulfed the raging hard on filling his mouth. Woody's wasn't the biggest dick he had ever seen but it had the biggest head . He saw the paddle on the couch next to him and with the handle in one hand and the blade in the other, firmly placed it across the seat of Woody's Wranglers and pulled him in deeper, until his mouth was deep in his open fly with the entire dick in his mouth. With the paddle firmly on Woody's ass, he used it to take Woody deeper in his throat with each thrust, before releasing him and allowing the full dick to leave his mouth. The smell of bourbon was thick, and combined with the smoke from Woody's cigar. This was not going to be a long blowjob. Woody was too horny and ready to shoot. Suddenly he forced Cooper's head deep into his crotch, and Cooper forced him even deeper with the paddle on his ass. Woody's head flew back as he stiffened and drained a giant load into Cooper's shaking mouth. He grunted and groaned as a second load soon followed the first, and while most guys don't like the feeling of their prick being stimulated after shooting, Woody enjoyed the sensation. He stayed in until his dick started to soften, before finally leaving his double load behind. He tucked his softening, purple dick back into the fly of his Wranglers and zipped up. Cooper stared at the floor, ashamed and sniffing back tears, not sure of what had just happened. Woody had him once again by the front of his shirt, and pulled him up to his feet. He had the paddle in his hand once again. "You're getting the last two licks anyway.", Woody whispered angrily, through thick smoke. "Bare assed." "Oh shit, man. PLEASE! I-I" Cooper stammered, sobbing. "Sympathy is not in my toolbox, son.", Woody whispered through smoke, "And if you're looking for sensitivity, you should have blown James Taylor. The blowjob was nice, ... but it wasn't worth two licks. Drop 'em!" Cooper resigned himself to his fate, slowly unfastening his belt and sliding his Wranglers and Jockey shorts down past his flaming ass to just above his knees. His ass was deep red and getting redder. Woody stood behind him with the paddle as he got back into position. Woody rubbed the paddle back and forth across his sizzling ass, as a fresh hard on was building in the wet crotch of his jeans. He drew the paddle back. "KA --- WHAAAAAAAAACK !!!" Woody watched as Cooper took the lick across his bare ass, his quivering ass immediately turning an even deeper red. He chomped on the cigar, determined to make the last lick as hard as the first one, a trick he learned from a leather friend back in L.A.. "KA --- WHAAAAAAAAAACK !!!" Cooper sank to his knees, his jeans slipping down to his ankles. Woody slammed the paddle down on the counter. He watched as Cooper stood back up and slowly slid his jeans over his ass and refastened his belt. "If your daddy had done that a few times, you might have turned out a lot better.", Woody said, watching him struggle through the pain. "He never cared what happened to me." "Well, someone cares now. You're going to apologize to Barney and a few others you have harmed. You humiliated them in front of their pledge brothers, so you're going to apologize in front of their pledge brothers. Understand?" "Yes, sir. Does this mean I can come back to the bar?" "Yes, if you turn this shit show around and do your job as Pledge Trainer." "Well, they never let me in their group growing up!", Cooper said sadly, tears still thick in his eyes. "Barney Dobbs, Justy Phelps, Ivan Parker and some others. "Well show them you can change. I just adjusted your behavior. And I'll do it again if I think you need it. Only next time it'll be worse and in my woodshed. Understand?" Cooper nodded. "Uh, Woody. About earlier. Can we keep that between ourselves?", Cooper asked, his hands rubbing the back of his Wranglers. "Up to you. The guys all know about me. But I'll respect your privacy. And don't expect a relationship. I don't do relationships. Nothing has changed between you and me." Cooper stuck out his hand. The two men shook hands as Woody turned to leave. Upon opening the door, Woody was hit with a horrendous stench coming from the parking lot below. "You might want to come take a look at this.", he said, stepping outside the doorway. Once outside, Cooper looked down at his yellow Corvette parked directly below, now completely splattered with pig and cow shit, obviously poured from his balcony. The stuff covered the hood and top, and sank deep into the wiper well. He turned and closed his eyes on the worst night of his life. "You've got some fence-mending to do.", Woody said, covering his nose and mouth with his handkerchief as he walked by. When Woody returned to the bar, there were just a few guys remaining in the card room. "Hit the lights and lock up when you guys are through. And will you shut the gate when you leave? You know where the button is?" The few guys agreed, and Woody climbed the outside stairs to his apartment. It was about 1:00 a.m. He took a long hot shower, washing off the bourbon blow job. He poured himself a fresh bourbon on the rocks and moved to his computer. He skipped ahead to what he was wanting to see. He combined three "security" cameras onto the large screen. In one of the screens was Randy, taking Woody's paddle off the column, handing it to him handle first and moving from the bar to the pool table, where he removed his Stetson hat and placed it on the table, brim up. The pool balls were arranged in a tight triangle, ready to be racked. He removed his pistol from the holster and placed it in one of the table pockets, pointed downward. Woody began to stroke his dick as Randy emptied first his wallet, then a folded red bandana from the left back pocket of his heavily-starched khaki pants. He placed the items inside his hat, an old habit from his Wrangler days. Woody directed him to the middle pocket of the pool table, the prime spot for his security cameras. Randy knew he needed to spread his long, straight legs wide enough to bring his tight butt down level with the edge of the table where he could take the board straight across the ass rather than risk a low swat. He snuck a hand down the front of his pants and moved his junk up front. The position was perfect. A second screen was focused on Randy's face, obviously nervous but prepared for what was about to happen. The third screen was focused on Woody from the side. As he slipped his right hand through the leather strap in the handle. Woody watched himself as he addressed the crowd of Wranglers, saying: "THIS, gentlemen, is called 'Taking one for the Team!" Suddenly, the paddle appeared across Randy's ass, as Woody prepared the swat. Woody's eyes widened in excitement as Randy's widened in fear. He swallowed hard. The paddle was withdrawn in all three screens. Woody changed the playback to slow motion. The paddle moved so fast that it was invisible, until it suddenly appeared, landing hard and solid deep across Randy's ass. It moved in deeper and deeper, flattening everything it covered, until Woody withdrew it as the board left its fire. The impact sent Randy slightly forward, not a flinch but an honest reaction to the impact. The camera on his face captured the slow-motion, changed expression from fear to agony in a grimace of pain. Tears were growing in his eyes, which widened in shock. Woody's eyes widened in excitement. In one view, Justy could be seen in the group of onlookers. His eyes were closed, but flew open the instant the board landed. The camera took in Randy's thick, white hair as he slowly stood up, his hands flying to the seat of his shiny, stiff khaki pants. " HOLEEEEEEEEEE FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK !!!" he shouted in slow motion, as the fire grew in his ass. Woody would watch the clips over and over deep into the early morning hours, both real time and slow motion and finally frame-by-frame. The hard-swung paddle, invisible during the swing, appeared on Randy's ass in a single fiery frame. He continued watching from above the bar later as Randy stood at the bar, puffed on his cigar and drank the two glasses of brandy with Woody. Despite his efforts to hide the pain it was clearly evident in slow and super slow motion. He watched from above as Randy signed the paddle and finally started to leave. There was an unexpected bonus. Apparently Randy stopped to use the men's room on the way out and was once again in clear view of Woody's hidden cameras in there. He watched as Randy opened his fly and unfastened his belt and slid his white jockey shorts down. From above, Woody could see Randy's nice, thick dick begin a hard piss without being guided. "Fuck me. Hard! I'm too old for this shit." Randy said softly, staring unknowingly into the invisible ceiling camera, placing both hands on the bright red surface of his ass while the steady stream of piss hit last night's ice that Woody always disposed of in the piss trough. It cut down on flushes, and he enjoyed watching the guys circle their pee into the ice and Randy was no different. Woody knew he was in the fiery tingle stage, and would be for the next hour or so. Tomorrow he'd be sore. Randy gave his dick a series of shakes before replacing his Jockey shorts, smoothing his shirttail, and returning his stiff khakis to the familiar place high on his hips. He buckled his belt and secured his gun before washing his hands and splashing cold water on his face. He cussed softly as he discovered there were no paper towels in the dispenser, which Woody seldom refilled since most of the guys pissed outside anyway. He wiped his hands on his pants. "I hope you enjoyed yourself, Woody", Randy whispered, having no idea he was being recorded, "you crazy fucking queer." Woody would play that line over and over again, smiling each time. He loved seeing Randy's private thoughts and his honest reaction to his lick. Between the nice lick across Randy's perfect ass, and the nine scorchers he gave Cooper, and the unexpected blow job, it had been one of the greatest nights of his life. Tomorrow he would check out the card room "security camera". He knew about Ivan Parker's three licks but there would be others. Usually, he was called on to deliver the poker licks, since an extra-hard swat was delivered with a shot of whisky, but sometimes it was delivered by the high hand at the table. From the actual security camera above the bar, he noticed that apparently shortly after Randy left, Justy must have heard about Cooper giving Barney the final two licks despite Randy's stern warning. He watched as Justy angrily stormed out of the bar, saying he needed to return to the vet clinic to check on the sow a final time. |