Subject: Repost: Path to Conflict (sp,M/F,con)
From: Kfry2k@aol.com
Date: 21 Feb 1999 16:51:36 GMT

This is a work of fiction containing adult themes. If you are not of legal age, stop reading now. The characters depicted in this story are fictional: any similarity between real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.


Path to Conflict

"Take it for a while, okay Bill?" Mike asked tiredly, reaching down to transfer control from his pilot's yoke to the co-pilot's.

"Yeah, sure, I got `er." Bill Hadley affirmed, rolling his shoulders once before lightly grasping the B-17's control wheel. The big bomber dipped just a little, the engines picking up some RPM, then settled down under her new commander.

"Water, water, everywhere..." Mike thought, rotating his neck to relieve some of the tension. From horizon to horizon, there was nothing to be seen but ocean; blue sky with wispy clouds looked down on the endless succession of trough-like waves, making their way across the Atlantic. The effect was hypnotic, a soothing progression of unchanging ripples, going on forever. Closing his eyes, Captain Mike Willis slipped into a troubled sleep; fitful and restless. The background drone of the hammering engines intruded into his unconscious, not enough to waken, but disallowing complete rest.

* * *

"Will we be there soon?" Maddie asked, snuggling against Mike's shoulder.

"Not long, now." He replied, putting his hand over hers.

Outside their compartment window, the white-blanketed landscape flowed by; a winter wonderland dotted with picturesque cottages and farms. The rhythmic click-click, click-click of the train wheels and the regular, gentle rocking of the car made a comfortable background for the rolling panorama before them. Now and then, a plume of smoke and cinders drifted over the view, belched out by the laboring locomotive pulling the train. Here they were, going home; or at least where Mike called home. At the edge of the great plains, his family's farm was snuggled in against the foothills of the Rockies. With America just into the war, Mike wanted to go home for Christmas; there was no telling when he might get his next chance. Her eyes shining, Maddie leaned over to whisper to him.

"Going to spank me tonight?" she giggled, nibbling on his ear. "It's been two whole days, and I feel a naughty streak coming on."

Mike blushed just a trifle and felt his heart flutter at her suggestion. Grinning at his beautiful blonde wife, he remembered how her soft, round bottom felt under his hand as he slapped it into a rosy glow, and envisioned the sweet love they made afterward. "I must be the luckiest man on earth." He whispered back at her, kissing her forehead softly. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known; and you picked me to share your life." Shaking his head in wonderment, he pulled her closer as she nestled against his chest. "Yes, angel. There will be time for a spanking tonight. We'll be staying in the carriage house." Maddie looked up at him for an explanation. "Carriage house?" she repeated, puzzled.

Mike went on to explain about his family farm; that it had once been an estate, complete with carriage house, a small private lake, etc.

"My father, brother and I fixed it up into a nice apartment just before Randy and I left home. We figured it would make a nice place for any of us with families to stay while we're visiting." He commented.

"You never told me much about Randy." Maddie said softly. "Was he like you?"

"No, not at all." Mike said, a little catch in his voice. He gazed out the window at the frozen landscape, seeing Maddie's concerned reflection in the glass, watching him.

"Isn't it odd." he finally said wistfully, "I'm the crazy one, flying all over the landscape, flirting with death every time I go up, and yet..."

Whoooooo! Whoooooo! Whooooo-ooooo!

His voice trailed off, lost in the shrill steam-whistle and the strident DING! DING! DING! Ding ding of a grade crossing, the chiming warning bells dropping in pitch and volume as the train hurtled by. Maddie knew how much it hurt Mike to remember how his brother had been killed in an accident. Driving home from college one weekend, he pushed himself too far; falling asleep at the wheel to crash against a tree. He had been the exceptional student, the practical one, destined to be a professional man. One small indiscretion, and it was all over.

"I'm sorry." Maddie said softly, squeezing his arm, "I shouldn't have brought it up."

Mike smiled wanly, pushing the memory down deep in his mind, burying it as they had buried Randy.

The light was fading, turning the world outside into a Currier & Ives print, straight out of the heavenly heartland. Their railroad coach grew quiet, as if the lowering darkness pressed down on its occupants.

"Si -- lent Night..., Ho-oly Night..," Maddie's soft, sweet voice began almost too quietly to hear. Mike felt tears start from the beauty of her voice and the timing of her sentiment. In a minute, he joined her, and in short order the entire car was filled with the sound of voices; all the people going home to celebrate Christmas, singing together like one big family. The train hurtled onward, into the gathering darkness.

"MMMpfff!" Mike grunted, as a snowball took him between the shoulder blades. Windmilling his arms, he tried to keep his balance, but his legs began flailing wildly and gravity finally won, pulling him to the ice with a muffled plop. The mischievous Maddie, her golden hair restrained by a knit cap, smiled impishly at the supine figure of her lover. Mike rolled onto his side, struggling to rise, his anger at being bushwhacked somewhat lessened by the sight of Maddie's glowing face. Cold weather agreed with her, a fact that surprised him because of her upbringing in Southern California. She seemed equally at home on ice skates, too, something that really puzzled him.

"You little minx!" he growled, "If I get my hands on you!" Struggling to his feet, he wobbled toward her, the skates hardly obeying his command. It had been a long time, and his skating skills were rusty. Madeline wasn't much better, but enough to evade his grasp. She laughed as he weaved and tottered after her, he was such a comic sight. By the time they reached the edge of the lake, they were both laughing hysterically and flopped down in the snow. Getting his breath, Mike stood up and said

"Now we're on even ground, missy." And grabbed her by the collar, dragging her over to a fallen log. Brushing off the snow, he sat and went to work on the layers of her clothing.

"Ever had a bare-butt spanking in twenty-degree weather?" he asked, grinning at the dismayed expression on her flushed face.

"You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed, taunting him, "My buns will freeze."

"Oh, I'll keep them thawed out, you can bet on it." He replied, still undressing her.

"Mikey, your folks will see us!" she lamented, half struggling against his efforts.

"So what? They've seen a spanking before." He said impassively, finishing the job of getting to the heart of the matter. Maddie lay across his knees, her coat all bunched up around her shoulders. Mike dragged her woolen trousers down and the underwear followed, leaving his pretty blonde wife bare-bottomed and ready for spanking.

"Ooooh, it's cold!" she complained, squirming.

"We'll fix that, believe you me!" he said, biting off his right glove and smacking her soundly on one cheek.

"Owww!" she cried, "That hurts!" The cold made each slap sting more intensely than normal. Maddie thought her buns would shatter, and kicked in response to Mike's smarting palm. Swat after swat quickly changed the complexion of her bottom from a pale, chilly white to the color of a country sunset. Mike's palm stung also, but he didn't mind; he was lost in his part of their pleasure/pain ritual, something that fulfilled them both like nothing else could. Soon Maddie was crying like she always did, begging her man to stop spanking, but not really wanting him to. Her buns grew fiery red, her mittened right hand caught in Mike's un-gloved left as he spanked and spanked the twin globes arrayed before him.

"Are you sorry for belting me with that snowball?" he demanded, playing his part in the scenario.

"Y-yes." She sniffled, crying softly. Then, "No. I'd do it again!" Her words taunted him, letting him know that she wanted more. Mike obliged, swatting her rosy red bottom again and again until it was ablaze with color. At long last, he stopped, leaving her crying across his lap as he stroked her hair gently. Without warning, he scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it vigorously across her flaming hindquarters. The reaction was violent.

"Ohhhhh! You monster! I'll get you!" she screeched.

Mike rolled her off his lap, laughing, and took off across the lake, leaving her struggling to pull up her woolens, cursing him roundly.

* * *

"Position check, Cap'n!" The navigator's voice came tinnily in his ear through the intercom.

"Okay, Frank. Be there in a minute." Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Mike made his way back to the nav desk and reviewed their present estimated position on the chart. His navigator on this leg of the journey across the ocean was new, and looked a bit uncertain as he walked his dividers across the map.

"Slight headwind...," He muttered to himself, "not much drift.., should be about a half-hour behind schedule."

"Looks good." Mike approved, "Plenty of fuel..., we'll be okay."

The big bomber droned on into the blue, carrying them all one step closer to combat, and possible death. It seemed incongruous; ten men in a plane, alone in a wide, wide sky..., with nothing but ocean below them, surrounded by beauty, and yet they were on the edge of a precipice; the precipice of war. Another month might find them all dead, their families grieving at the loss. Now, there was just the peaceful ocean below, the mild sky above. Mike went back to the cockpit, feeling out of touch with everything.

"Want me to take it for a bit?" he asked, slipping into his seat.

"No, I'm all right." His co-pilot said, looking straight ahead. "Go ahead and finish your nap. The tough part is still ahead."

Mike pulled his cap down over his eyes, sliding down in the seat and folding his arms across his chest. Time for one more dream. Hope it's a good one, he thought.

* * *

Marvelous aromas filled the house: roasting turkey, baking bread, a roaring fire, all the smells of a country holiday. Mike's parents loved Madeline, and showed it by their affectionate acceptance of her into their family. Mike's father said grace, a moving and thoughtful prayer which included those who struggled daily for their country, putting their lives on the line to shield all of America from the Axis terror. Dinner was a long and pleasant affair, leaving the whole group stuffed and thankful for each other's company. Gathering around the tree, presents were exchanged with joy and gratitude, and evening found them drinking hot mulled cider and singing together. It was a down-home Christmas day, and at its end Maddie felt that she had never loved her Micky any more than at that moment. Arm in arm, they strolled through slowly falling flakes of snow toward their carriage house apartment, dreamily lost in thoughts of love and warmth.

"Happy?" Mike asked, taking Maddie's glowing face in his hands.

"Mmm-hmmm." She assented, looking up at him.

She sat on the worn sofa in the carriage house's loft-style apartment, her legs tucked up under her. Beautiful blonde hair cascaded down around the turtle-neck of her sweater, framing the visage that Mike adored so much. Kneeling next to her, he bent to kiss her waiting mouth, the tang of cider still on her lips. The kiss became an embrace, growing fiercer as they both seemed to sense how much they desperately needed to cling to each other. Long moments passed as their touching did all the talking necessary, finally calming and reassuring them of their mutual love. Mike broke the silence.

"Get everything you wanted?" he asked her, lifting her hair to let it ripple through his fingers.

"Not quite." She replied, a little pout on her face.

Mike looked shocked.

"What did I forget?" he implored, looking troubled.

Maddie leaned forward to whisper in his ear, then sat back and smiled, waiting.

"Oh, that!" he said with relief. "Your wish is my command."

Standing, he tugged her to her feet, dragging her toward the bed, sweeping her old-fashioned hairbrush off the dresser as he went. In record time he had the lovely blonde face down across his lap, making quick work of taking her slacks and undies down to her ankles.

Over the crest of a nearby hill, a quarter-moon was rising. An owl hooted mournfully, getting ready to hunt for his supper. A wisp of smoke rose from the outbuilding of a farm, and sounds emanated from the second floor. Strange sounds; the sound of glossy wood on bare skin, accompanied by yelps and cries.

"Owww! Ohh, Micky! Ouch! That huuuurts! I'll be good, I swear!"

The lovely Madeline was getting her last present of the day, her long legs flailing wildly despite their encumbrance of woolen slacks, now bunched around her trim ankles. Her normally cream-colored behind was slowly turning a remarkable shade of red, as her loving Micky spanked it over and over again with her big wooden hairbrush. Some minutes later, when the beautiful woman had been reduced to tearful sobbing, her lover ceased spanking. Holding her closely, Mike covered her with kisses, his passion overhwelming her emotions the way the hairbrush had fulfilled her desire to be spanked. Rolling Maddie onto the bed, Mike took one last look at her magnificent beauty before turning out the light. Sounds of intense passion filled the darkened room, and the moon had marched a good distance before all was quiet and the two slept peacefully in each other's arms.

* * *

On the deck of a patrolling destroyer, a lookout pointed skyward. The flight of B-17s crossed the heavens ahead of them, headed east. Moments later, they were gone, even the engine sounds a memory. The lookout went back to his work, scanning the ocean's surface for signs of the enemy. The war was everywhere, and in war, eternal vigilance was the price of living another day. The co-pilot of the lead bomber glanced down at the warship below, feeling a kinship with the crew. In the left seat, Captain Mike Willis slept fitfully, his body on the way to battle; his mind in paradise with Madeline.