On Daddy's Ranch

Chapter 2: Zoë's Special Friend

The first warm days of Spring had arrived and Zoë had begun spending her afternoons after school at Daddy's ranch. She was starting to become a competent rider and knew all the horses and their little tricks. In just a few short weeks, her body had toned and her snow-white skin was touched with the beginnings of a creamy tan, at least on her arms and face. Her long blonde hair was usually tucked under a straw Justin hat and her long legs poured into form fitting Wranglers.

Daddy had been spending a lot of his time up in the City, attending to his business. He'd left the daily care of the ranch to his forewoman, Jessica Belle. Jessica's husband had owned a large spread nearby, and she'd grown up as a rancher's daughter. But her husband had died, leaving her a ranch deep in debt. She'd had to sell it for pennies on the dollar and look for work. Daddy said he'd offered her the job out of kindness, but also that she was a very talented woman and hard working. Zoë found her to be taciturn and a bit frightening, though she couldn't say why. Her Daddy and Jessica and seemed to have some deeper connection than a purely professional relationship. She'd seen them exchange meaningful glances, though she had no idea what was what behind them. And just the other day, Zoë looked up from grooming the horses to find Jessica standing at the fence, staring at her. She held Zoë's eye for a moment, then turned away without a word.

On this particular bright Spring day, Zoë had invited her friend Najila to see the ranch. Both she and Najila were on the soccer team together at school; both would graduate this year. Najila was nearly the opposite of the fair, willowy Zoë: shorter and fuller figured, with dark, curly hair, olive skin, and exotic almond eyes. Najila's parents were from Turkey, but Najila had been born in London. Zoë had a huge crush on Najila (as did most of the boys and not a few of the girls at school) and had caught herself staring at Najila's succulent body in the gym showers, her heart and mind awash in emotion and barely contained desire. She'd tried hard to sound nonchalant when she invited Najila to come visit her at the ranch, but her heart was pounding and she'd felt her nipples harden and a tingle between her legs when the lovely girl had said yes, her voice touched softly with a hint of British English, her white teeth flashing a warm smile.

Zoë had been a bundle of nerves, waiting for her friend to arrive, thinking Najila would change her mind, would somehow know of Zoë's strong feelings and be repulsed. The mixture of joy and fear that flooded Zoë's young veins when Najila's Prius came up the long winding drive to the ranch house almost overwhelmed her. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to speak, would just stare at the beautiful Najila or babble like an idiot. But her friend emerged from the car with a relaxed smile, dressed in a full cut white blouse and short skirt. Najila exclaimed at the beauty of the ranch and Zoë felt herself relax. Within minutes, the two were running towards the barn, laughing like the schoolgirls they were. Daddy's big German Shepherd, Zeus, followed, barking, enjoying the game.

Zoë took great delight in showing Najila the horses, the goats and the big stud bull, Ferdinand. Unlike his namesake, though, Zoë knew the huge black animal to be evil tempered and she never entered his pasture. But she pointed out his impressive male anatomy to Najila, just as Daddy had shown it to her. Najila's expression mixed amazement and repulsion.

"I'm glad I'm not a cow!" she'd exclaimed, sending them both into another laughing fit.

Zoë led Najila into the barn.

"Let's go up into the loft," she suggested. Najila looked uncertainly at the wooden ladder. "You go first," Zoë said, "I'll come up right behind you in case you slip."

Somewhat reassured, Najila started to climb. Zoë let her get three or four rungs up, then began climbing herself. Najila's strong brown calves were between Zoë's arms. Her skin looked so soft and warm, it was all Zoë could do to resist leaning forward to nuzzle the other girl's legs. After a few more rungs, Najila stopped and looked down at her friend. Zoë was looking up, but her eyes were unfocused, her lips parted in a small "o" that made them look sweet and kissable.

"What are you looking at?" Najila asked.

Startled, Zoë looked away quickly. "Nothing..." Najila saw a flush start up the fair girl's neck, spreading to her face.

When Najila had stopped on the ladder above her, Zoë had looked up, her eyes following the flow of her friend's legs, past her knees, over the swelling of her strong thighs, past the hem of her short skirt, to the full roundness of her panty clad bottom. The surge of desire Zoë felt seeing Najila's satiny cheeks, so close to her she could feel the other girl's body heat, almost caused her to lose her grip on the ladder.

Najila shrugged and resumed climbing. Laughing, both of the girls tumbled over the lip of the loft and scrambled to their feet. It warm up here and the air was rich and redolent with the smell of hay and dust and horse. Shafts of bright yellow sunlight flared through chinks in the walls, illuminating the dust motes as they danced in the still air. Najila wandered around the loft, looking at the various, dust covered bits of ranching paraphernalia: old tack, a worn saddle, some frayed lead ropes. Zoë stood awkwardly, watching her, suddenly tongue tied, unsure of what to say or do.

"Ooh, what's this?" Najila asked, bending to pick something up from the floor. Her luxuriant black mane tumbled around her face, and Zoë could see the swell of her breasts in the vee of her blouse. Najila stood up and held out her find: a thin black riding crop.

Zoë was mortified. She recognized it as the crop her Daddy used on her their first time together in the barn. She didn't know how it had gotten up here, but the sight of it caused a flood of feelings to well up inside her. Shame and guilt came first. Then with even greater embarrassment, Zoë felt the wetness between her legs increase as her ass cheeks began to tingle and smart with the memory of how her Daddy had spanked her bare bottom. She was sure the bright red stripes had flamed back onto her fair skin from the mere sight of the crop.

Giggling, unaware of the tumult of feelings in her friend, Najila swiped the air with the crop, making a sharp swooshing sound.

"Do you really hit your horses with this?" She asked. "Doesn't it hurt them?"

"We don't hit the horses," Zoë replied (only me, she thought). "You just show the horse the crop, or brush their flank to make them go."

Najila was next to her now. She reached out her hand and brushed the tip of the crop against Zoë's jean clad rump.

"Like this?" Najila asked. The barest touch of the crop on her ass felt like a jolt from a cattle prod to Zoë. She stood stock still, looking into her friend's dark liquid eyes. Then she reached up and plucked a bit of hay that had stuck in Najila's curls. Zoë saw how fair her hand looked against the other girl's dark tresses. She lowered her hand, her fingertips grazing Najila's olive cheek before settling against the side of her neck.

"A little harder," Zoë whispered.

Najila paused, then drew the crop back and let it come forward again, making a small smacking sound against Zoë's blue jean butt. Zoë gasped, not so much from the shock of the blow, which was barely harder than a caress, as from the sudden fire she saw in her friend's eyes. Some quantum packet of instant communication beyond words passed between them in that look. Zoë felt like the world had shifted under her feet. Without thinking, she leaned forward, lips parting and softly kissed Najila on her smooth olive cheek.

Zoë felt Najila stiffen, then she felt her relax, respond to the kiss. Najila's other hand came up and rested on Zoë's shoulder. Zoë nuzzled the shorter girl's neck, burying her face in her rich dark hair. Najila smelled of soap and sandalwood. Zoë let her body press lightly against her friend's. She was intensely aware of the touch of Najila's full breasts against her own smaller ones. Zoë entwined her hands around Najila's neck, the skin warm under her dark mane. She brought her lips against Najila's in a tender, tentative, exploratory kiss. She'd never kissed another girl like this—never kissed anyone like this—with so much hesitation but so much passion crouching, like a wild animal, behind it. Najila's lips were so soft and full, Zoë thought she was kissing some delectable fruit, a fresh strawberry or firm ripe peach. Their lips parted at the same time and they pressed their mouths together, their tongues touched tip to tip, dancing, entwining like mating serpents. Najila pulled Zoë against her, one hand cupping Zoë's firm jean clad ass, the other holding her arm, guiding Zoë's hand to her breast.

Zoë's breath caught raggedly when she felt the soft firmness of the Najila's tit. The plump weight of it in her hand was indescribably lovely, making Zoë's head spin with desire. Her nipple was hard and protruding through her bra and the fabric of her Spring blouse. Now she cupped both of Najila's full breasts in her hands, exploring, squeezing, pinching her nipples. Najila was moaning in her ear, her own hands caressing Zoë's long lean body.

Zoë leaned back to look into Najila's lovely face. Her dark eyes sparkled, her lips were plum red and parted. Zoë wanted to kiss and bite them. A look of confusion suddenly darkened the shorter girl's beauty.

"We shouldn't be doing this, Zoë," Najila said, her voice husky.

"Doing what?" Zoë asked, as she rolled the raven-haired girl's nipples under her thumbs. Najila laughed at Zoë's look of feigned innocence, then sighed and pressed into her friend's hands.

"This...it's not...right...it's not what we should be doing...is it?" Najila asked, her limpid eyes glinting with a mix lust and confusion.

Zoë was thinking how to answer, what to say to make it all ok, when she heard a sound behind her. Both girls looked towards the ladder they had come up; then Najila made a small squeak of surprise and pulled away.

Standing on the ladder, looking over the edge of the loft, was Jessica Belle, Daddy's forewoman. Her face was inscrutable, but Zoë felt a jolt of fear to see the stern but handsome woman catching her in the act with Najila. Jessica clambered the rest of the way up into the loft.

"I think you'd better leave, now, dear," Jessica said, her voice steady but not unkind. "Not you, Zoë," she continued. "You stay."

Zoë cast a desperate look at Najila, trying to communicate all her desire and disappointment wordlessly. And wordlessly, Najila went to the ladder and climbed back down. Zoë stood awkwardly, not daring to meet Jessica's gaze, but not knowing where else to look. When she heard the sound of Najila's car rolling down the gravel driveway, she finally looked at the older woman directly.

"Now, Zoë, we need to have a little talk about your...desires. Your Daddy has told me quite a bit about you...quite a bit, indeed."

Zoë felt shocked and hurt to hear her Daddy had been talking about her with this woman. What did he tell her?

"Your Daddy has also instructed me that I am to continue your...training...in his absence, should the opportunity arise. I would say that opportunity is here, wouldn't you?"

Zoë's eyes locked on the older woman's. Jessica stood with her hands on her blue jeaned hips, the dusty work clothes unable to completely hide her womanly curves. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the woman's lips. Those lips were thin and somehow cruel looking. Small crow's feet crinkled around her blue eyes. But Zoë wasn't sure she liked the look of that smile. Not one bit.

Next Chapter: Jessica's Lesson