Rocky Mountain Discipline

by Lee Savino

  She gasped, “Please,” and raised her bottom to meet his hand. He slapped and rubbed and rubbed and smacked until she squirmed and tried to rub her greedy center on the bed.

  “No, no.” His spank fell on her pussy and she jerked her bottom up with a squeal. “No rubbing yourself.” She moaned, and he chuckled. His fingers slid through her slick folds, brushing against a sweet spot that sent little spasms through her.

  “Do that again,” she said. “Please.”

  “That’s it. Beg.”

  “I need it, please.” She tried to move, to angle herself so she could find release.

  He pulled her over his lap and slapped between her legs again with a squelching sound, making her squeal.

  “No, no, my little wanton.”

  She felt a pang at being called wanton, but she was, over his lap, skirts up and bottom bared while Miles pressed his palm right between her legs. She moaned under his hand, and he replaced it with his fingers, stroking the tension in her to a fever pitch.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned.

  “Yes, wife. You’ve been naughty. Now beg me to find your release.”

  Pressure was building inside her, an ache she didn’t understand. She used the last of her brain power to plead for mercy. “Please, Miles, please. Let me go.”

  “I’m giving you what you need.” He smacked her cheeks again, then again lower down, her legs jerked closed and he drew them apart.

  “No, no, little lady. Keep your legs open, show me your pretty cunny. I want to see it.” His fingers dipped into her honey pot and slid around. She wriggled and he spanked her until she was still.

  “That’s right,” he said, his deep voice husky as he drew his fingers over her slick center. “This belongs to me now.”

  The sweet ache inside her had reached breaking point, and she cried out as pleasure shattered her. She was a harlot, she was a hussy, she didn’t care.

  “That’s it,” Miles murmured, his fingers continuing to stroke her.

  Her world spiraled and spun, the room and everything swimming out of focus. In one instant she was face down over Miles’ knees and gasping; in another Miles had swung her up and laid her on the bed, then covered her with his body. She smelled his wild, perfect scent, and felt him slide inside her. Moaning in his ear, she gripped the muscles of his back as he started to scythe in and out of her. Then bit down.

  With a roar, Miles lifted her off the bed, gripping her tender bottom as he pounded his hips into hers. She felt wild and free, spiraling above her body, watching her husband’s muscles flex powerfully, her tongue lick the sweat off his strong shoulder, and her nails rake down his back.

  Then she tipped over the edge of pleasure again and the world slammed back into her, just as Miles gave one last great thrust, and dropped them both on the bed. They both lay panting for a moment. Carrie felt her body trembling with little aftershocks, and was grateful for Miles’ heavy weight on top of her, grounding her.

  Miles leaned in for one last kiss, before flopping on his side beside her. “That was a good night’s lesson.”

  “I didn’t know I could do that,” she said.

  “My little wife is wanton.” He smiled, his eyes already starting to droop.

  She felt confused, her exhausted body wrung out with pleasure. The evening hadn’t gone as she’d planned. Not at all.

  Turning to face his sleeping form, she stroked his hair back from his face. In sleep, the harsh lines of his face softened and she found herself longing for him all over again.

  Then she noticed the red mark on his shoulder and gasped, remembering. She’d bit him! Twice.

  Rolling away, Carrie buried her face in the blanket with a moan. What must he think of her? She’d vowed to be a good and virtuous wife, but one touch and she lost control.

  It was humiliating.

  Too late, she remembered all she’d been taught: her body was a temptation, and led men astray if she wasn’t careful. All her life she’d tried so hard to avoid the boys and hide her curves under shapeless shawls, but her own body betrayed her. And everything they’d warned her against had come true, until she fled to Colorado to escape the shame.

  But here she was again, failing.

  She felt a wetness between her legs, and knifed up out of bed, stooping over as she walked to the corner to clean herself. When she was done, she didn’t return to bed, but crouched down in front of the fire, arms wrapped around her legs and head bent.

  She must be really evil, to think that her sinful acts felt beautiful. No wonder Miles called her wanton.

  A sob caught in her chest, and she buried it down. She could not run—there was nowhere to go. But she must never allow herself to lose control like that again.

  Eventually, she slipped back into bed, resolving to lie on her side and not disturb her husband. But as soon as her body settled, he wrapped himself around her, securing her with a hand around her waist. She closed her eyes and tried to forget her feelings for him, how much she loved feeling his solid weight at her back.

  The women at church had warned her, the reverend had preached on it, and still she allowed her flesh to reign. She must guard her heart and fight against lust. Otherwise, Miles would discover the truth about her—not only of her fallen nature, but also her sinful past.

  In the morning she tried to avoid her husband, but after chores, he stayed in the cabin with her, watching her make biscuits. When she asked him to get water, he jumped to his feet and left, but returned almost as quickly, whistling a jaunty tune.

  When she laid his plate before him, he caught her hand. “Sore from last night?”

  “Aye.” She kept her eyes down.

  “Does it truly hurt?” he asked, concerned, and she couldn’t stay cold.

  “It’s not too bad,” she said, giving him a shy smile.

  “Good.” She heard the relief in his voice. He tugged her hand, pulling her in for a kiss, and when it was done he let her go serve herself. Throughout breakfast, he hummed happily, not noticing her silence.

  “Miles?” she asked at last. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

  “Aye,” he said with smug satisfaction. “You lost control and bit me. Twice.”

  He smiled at her horrified expression. “Don’t worry, little wife. I enjoyed it.” He tapped her nose before clapping on his hat and heading for the door. “I think I’ll keep you.”

  By the time he returned for dinner, he noticed her subdued manner.

  “Still aching?”

  She mumbled something like assent, and scurried to her place at the fire. He was so handsome. She never thought his rawboned face would bring her such pleasure to look at it. But now, in the tiny cabin, his presence seemed to fill the place to every corner.

  “We’ll not be together tonight, then,” he told her, and she felt her heart sink, even though she had gained what she wanted.

  She did not escape total intimacy with him, however, for after dinner, he asked permission to brush her hair.

  “Yes, husband,” she allowed. He settled onto the bed and she followed, sitting in front of him, pulling a blanket over her nightgown. Slowly, reverently, he spread her chestnut waves over her shoulders, then started to stroke her hair.

  At first she sat straight and stiff in front of him, but eventually his touches wore her down. She basked in the sensation of his fingers and the pull of the hairbrush through her thick tresses. Sitting in a shining pool of her hair, she glowed, feeling pretty and cared for. Her husband’s hands were so strong, yet gentle. Her thoughts turned to the memory of their lovemaking, and she flushed.

  “When I was young, I thought the way a woman got with child was when God touched her. Like Mary the mother of Jesus. First a visit from an angel, then God touched you and gave you a baby.” She heard Miles chuckle behind her, and she continued talking to take her mind off the pleasing sensations. “Then I heard the gossips at church speaking of a girl who became pregnant at fourteen, and they muttered about it.” She fell silent
, feeling a pang of memory. Miles’ smooth strokes never faltered, and she felt grateful he couldn’t see her face.

  “Anyway, I didn’t understand. I thought if she’d been visited by an angel, and then God touched her and gave her a child, how could anyone blame her?”

  “Children are a gift from heaven, but I’m glad I have a part in making them. The good Lord knew what He was doing when he invented coupling between a man and woman,” he said from behind her, and she almost gasped at his matter fact tone.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you are satisfied, Mr. Donovan.”

  “Call me, Miles.” He tugged her hair. “And yes, it was magnificent. You were especially delicious, wife. I have no complaints.”

  Her blush deepened until her cheeks felt like hot coals. Then she had a thought and twisted around, pulling her hair out of his hands. “I never had a man touch me that way before, Miles,” she said. “You are my first.”

  “I know, sweetheart,” he said, seeing her stricken face. “You were a virgin. I could tell.”

  She remembered the twinge of pain and blood at their first coupling, and turned her back to him again. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

  The hairbrush resumed its patient strokes.

  “I’m not a harlot,” she whispered, too low for him to hear—or so she thought.

  The brushing stopped, and then Miles had his hand on her shoulders, turning her shamed face to his.

  “You are not, nor could you ever be, a harlot,” he told her. His voice was mild, but her body stiffened. Pain shot through her, an old wound reopening.

  “Sweet Carrie, how could you even think that?”

  “I only wanted to please you.”

  “You did. It was very good.” He palmed her cheek, turning her face to his. His eyes were warm and gentle. “I’d never believe you were untrue to me, much less a harlot. Carrie, why would you say that?”

  “The church I attended back home…they were very strict. They once had the young women meet all together, and told us never to wear ribbons in our hair. They said that if a man lusted after us, it was our fault.”

  “And you believed this?” Miles sounded amused.

  “They told us ribbons were forbidden. That if we wore them we were…”

  “Harlots,” Miles finished for her. He didn’t sound amused anymore.

  She nodded, eyes downcast.

  “And the leaders condoned this ridiculousness? This lecture on the evils of hair ribbon?”

  “Not all. My brother Thomas laughed at this, but he was newly working for the church, and could not speak out against the senior leadership.”

  “I cannot believe this.”

  Trembling, she finished. “The deacons even called a girl up in front of the church who’d been accused of seducing a man, and cast her out.” She prayed the tears would not fall.

  “Look at me.” Miles sounded so angry, she bit her lip as she obeyed.

  “Your brother was right. That’s not the act of good Christians, but judgmental fools. Speaking out against hair ribbons! And if a man lusts after a woman, it is not her fault. Carrie,” he gripped her chin, “it is not her fault.”

  His voice softened as he saw her lips trembling, heralding tears.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” He drew her fully into his arms. “You are good, and pure. You’re my bride. Anything between us is right.”

  “Miles,” she cried, and her tears broke then.

  His strong arms tightened around her shaking body.

  “It’s all right,” he repeated over and over, murmuring into her ear. Eventually her tears died down and she relaxed against him.

  “Carrie.” His hand stroked up and down her arm. “Did someone hurt you?”

  She froze. Had he guessed the truth? For a minute she couldn’t bring herself to speak. “Hurt me?”

  “Yes. Did a man do you harm?”

  Her thoughts raced. Could he had found out another way? Perhaps a letter from Thomas? Surely her sin wasn’t written on her face.

  “Even if one had, it’s of no consequence,” she said, grateful he couldn’t see her face.

  “It is to me.” His head rested on her shoulder, and his whispers tickled her ear. “You can tell me.”

  But the minutes passed and, even feeling totally protected in the warm cocoon of his arms, she could not. Finally, he leaned back and let her go. Taking up the hairbrush, he resumed his duty.

  “Do you like it when I touch you?” he asked, his tone light. He seemed to know how to make it easy for her to talk to him. The long strokes in her hair were so soothing, she felt she could tell him anything.

  Almost.

  “Yes, I enjoy it,” she answered carefully. “But sometimes I feel…”

  “Wild?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is very, very good.” The brushing stopped and he lifted the hair off her neck, kissing it softly. “I like it when you respond to me.” His lips continued to play over the skin of her neck and shoulders, until she relaxed like she didn’t have a bone in her body.

  “Miles,” she said, her throat suddenly clogged.

  He lifted his head. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No. Please, don’t stop.”

  His mouth lowered again and she sighed.

  The next time he spoke she barely understood him.

  “I’m going to remove your nightgown. Is that all right?”

  She let her head bob.

  “Is that a yes? Because if not, I can keep convincing you…”

  “Yes.” She lifted her arms and he pulled the thin shift clean off, then lay her down on her back and knelt between her legs.

  For a moment he did nothing but gaze down at her, until she came out of her blissful fog.

  “What?”

  “Shhh.” He laid a finger against her lips. “I want to see you.” And he smiled.

  After a while, his fingers started a journey. Large hands sliding down her sides, gripping her bottom and kneading it, then continuing on to her legs, lifting and massaging them. Turning his head, he kissed her ankle. His stubble tickled her.

  “I’m going to know every part of you. The way you feel, the way you taste.”

  She giggled, then gasped as his teeth nipped at her skin. He nibbled up her calf, pausing to torment the sensitive place behind her knee.

  When she squirmed, he paused. “Stay still, Carrie. Or else, I’ll tie you down.”

  The thought of being bound, helpless at the mercy of his questing mouth, caused a part of her to clench.

  “Perhaps you’d like that.”

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “Then lie quiet for me.” His broad hand splayed across her chest, then slid down between her breasts, coming to rest with the heel of his palm pressed against the needy spot between her legs. “I intend to find every spot on your body that gives you pleasure. And test them all.”

  She whimpered.

  “I’ll leave you in no doubt how beautiful our lovemaking is, and how right.” His tawny eyes seemed to glow, and her secret parts clenched again.

  He took his time, but he fulfilled his promise to her. At last she lay on her back underneath him, feeling liquid and languid, as Miles continued to lick and nibble on her breasts.

  At one point he lifted his head. “If after tonight, you still don’t understand how God gives us babies—once Belle has weaned her foal and is healthy enough to bear again, I’ll put her in a field with a stallion, and let you watch.” His grin split his face. “You should learn something from it.”

  Stretching out her arm, she reached a pillow and hit him with it.

  His tawny eyes flashed, and he bent his head and blew a raspberry between her breasts until she shrieked with laughter.

  “Or I could just teach you now,” Miles growled, and drew her legs open wide before settling his weight between them. His pelvis ground against hers, rubbing her already overstimulated nub until she was taut with pleasure and ready. Then, and only then, did Miles let
his long, hard length slip inside and fill her to the hilt.

  She gasped, but his mouth fell on hers and silenced her squeals, before turning them to moans.

  The next night, Carrie had dinner ready long before dusk, and her bible on the table for another reading session. She hoped the night would end the same way as the last. Scolding herself for her wantonness, she still couldn’t help feeling excited when the shadow stretched longer over the hill. Every few minutes she went out onto the porch and checked for his return.

  When finally he arrived, she rushed to her place.

  “Wife.” He kissed her, a tired but happy look on his face. “You’re the loveliest sight I’ve seen today.”

  “You’ve been with the cows all day,” she observed, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell. “I should hope so.”

  “Yes, and I’m not done yet. The horses in the pasture still need feeding.”

  “You must leave again?”

  He saw her face and chuckled. “Miss me, wife?”

  Flushing, she glanced down, even as the familiar clench deep inside her gave the true answer.

  “Do not be too disappointed.” He chucked her under the chin. “I’ll be back before you know it, and will even take a dip in the stream to wash off the worst of my grime.”

  “Can I help?” she asked, then blushed again. “With the horses, I mean.”

  “I’d rather you stay here, safe. If anything ever happens, you’ll come find me in the morning, and be healthy enough to ride for help.”

  All happiness fled out of her, replaced with alarm.

  “Do not be worried, Carrie. It’s unlikely anything will happen. I only tell you in case we need a plan.”

  “We’re so alone out here,” she whispered. ”Wouldn’t it be better to live in town?”

  “I love the wild, Carrie. I cannot give it up. Though,” he admitted, digging into his potatoes. “It would make me feel better if we had a friendly neighbor.”

  “What about your business partner?”

  His expression darkened. “What about him?”