by Vanessa Vale
The doctor had told James he was ill, that his heart was defective. One would never know by looking at him, full of life and vigor. I had to wonder if the old doctor had made an error. Was his demise imminent? Was mine? The Montana Territory offered no certainties of safety. What I did know was we’d protect Tennessee, perhaps even from herself.
I knew our Bridgewater neighbors well, the British and Scotsmen who had served in the small country of Mohamir where men, usually in twos and threes, married a woman together. It wasn’t for their needs, but hers. From the stories they’d shared, Mohamir was a wild country, and having two husbands ensured the wife would always be protected and cherished. The Montana Territory was just as wild and the same concerns for a wife existed.
Kane, Ian, Mason, MacPherson and all the others on the Bridgewater Ranch—and the area around it—doted and cherished their wives. They were the center of their families, of their world. They were forward thinkers, and their precedent was spreading to beyond the reaches of their property. Others in the area, like James and myself, would claim a woman together, would follow the belief that their woman came first. Her needs, no matter if they were a reddened ass or a well-pleasured pussy—perhaps both, would be met.
Having a woman to warm my bed, to slake my needs and empty my balls with frequency, had appeal. And glancing at Tennessee again, I knew it would be no hardship and something I would enjoy for the rest of my life. I would ensure she was well-satisfied as well. I might be a gentleman and would not fuck her until we were wed, but it did not stop me from having darker thoughts. What I wanted to do to her. With her. I had to shift in the saddle because my cock was eager for her.
Yes, we’d claim Tennessee. I couldn’t let anyone else have her. She might be young enough to be my daughter, but she called to me. I saw her and… knew. From what I lacked in offering deep affection, he would fulfill. It was the perfect arrangement and eased James’ fears. I could have a bride without the emotional attachment I was honor bound to offer in a “normal” marriage. I didn’t have it in me. What Victoria had done had ruined me. Stolen any chance to love.
And Tennessee? She’d get two men who would cherish, protect… and most definitely punish. After what she’d done today alone, one man was definitely not enough for her.
It seemed James had similar thoughts, for he halted at the edge of the creek we’d been following, lowered himself to the ground, then with hands on her waist, lifted Tennessee from the saddle.
“Why are we stopping here?” she asked, brushing her hair back from her face.
I dismounted, dropped the reins so the horse could graze or drink from the water.
“I waited until we were away from Butte to spank you as I don’t want to anyone to see your bare ass when I turn you over my knee,” James replied.
Her mouth fell open as she stared wide-eyed at him, then at me. “You’re going to spank me?”
“I warned you earlier that I would,” he continued. “Since then, I’ve gotten this because of you.” He lifted his hand to his eye where it was now surrounded by dark bruising. “And you were about to become Butte’s latest working girl.”
Her gaze narrowed and her hands settled on her hips. “I had no intentions of becoming a… a working girl. I went to the saloon to make money.”
“Exactly. Even as a virgin, you must know a woman in a saloon does it on her back,” I added.
She looked to me, her lips pursing. Beyond the basic introductions, this was the first we’d truly conversed.
“I was there to play cards and only cards,” she clarified, crossing her arms over her chest. This, of course, drew my attention to those soft swells. “It is not my fault the ladies there were confused. Besides, I was leaving when the two of you showed up. I had no intention of remaining.”
“Where were you going to go next?” James added.
“Another saloon, I presume?” I asked, when she remained silent.
She blushed, but pursed her lips.
James sighed and walked over to a large rock by the creek’s edge and sat down. He patted his thigh. “Let’s get it over with, then we can head home.”
Tennessee backed up a step, looked about.
“Where are you going to go?” he asked. The nearest town was two miles away.
She couldn’t run. She couldn’t collect sympathy from another man. I wasn’t giving it to her.
“You’re a brute, James Carr, and I don’t think Abigail is really your sister,” she snapped.
I sighed. We were getting nowhere fast. I walked over to her, leaned forward and tossed her over my shoulder. She was light as a feather, but a whirling dervish, and I gripped the backs of her thighs to keep her from slipping off.
While she screeched, I walked over to the rock James just vacated. “This is not up for negotiation. You may have talked your way out of consequences with your father, but not with us.”
“You are not my father,” she shouted.
I sat down, lowering her so she stood directly before me and between my legs. With a hand hooked about her narrow waist, I held her in place. Because she was so short, we were at eye level. She was so beautiful, her eyes the color of the sky. Her skin was pale, as if it had never been exposed to the sun. Yet the light caught in her hair and did make it look like spun gold, just as James had professed.
Her actions were those of a hellion, a shrew, even. Yet looking at her, I saw so much more. A woman sheltered from the worst of society, only to be thrust into danger by a father who, clearly, hadn’t had her best interests at heart. She was alone and lost, adrift. Like a feral cat, clawing and fighting even the hand that fed it.
She needed love. Attention. Comfort. But also consequences and boundaries she’d not received growing up.
“No, I most definitely am not,” I replied, my voice quiet. Calm. I studied her, recognized someone who deflected, perhaps pushed others away in order to remain emotionally safe. Too bad. She was going to be very vulnerable. “But perhaps you need one, one who actually gives you the guidance and attention, the devotion you need to be happy.”
“And that’s you?” she countered with a little sass. Ah yes, the kitten’s claws could come out, especially when afraid.
Was it me? I glanced at James, who nodded. Perhaps he saw she needed something I could give her. I could easily be of similar age to her father, for I knew she was near twenty, just like Abel, my son.
“Yes, Kitten, it is,” I told her, giving her a gentle squeeze. Reaching up, I tucked a curl that had come loose from the ribbon behind her ear. “Especially since I’m going to be your husband.”
Her eyes widened and she glanced up at James, who’d been watching intently. He grinned and nodded at me, clearly pleased I accepted the joint claim on her.
“What… what do you mean? I thought… James said—”
“We will have a Bridgewater marriage,” James replied, cutting off her confusion. “Two men marrying one woman. Jonah and I will marry you. Like Abigail has done with Gabe and Tucker, her two men you met earlier. The ones who took her home and most likely are turning her over one of their laps right about now for her recklessness in helping you.”
“Like Abigail?”
James nodded, for I had yet to meet them.
“And you still want to marry me? Both of you?” Her head swiveled back and forth between the two of us. “You didn’t ask or give me a choice,” she countered. “Either of you.”
I raised my eyebrow his way, silently telling James, See? Women like to be asked.
“And you didn’t think when you put yourself into danger,” I replied.
With deft hands, I easily maneuvered her so she was facedown over my thighs, hooking a leg over her ankles to pin her down after I did so. My hand settled at her upper back. I felt her heat, her softness. How small she was. Fragile. But her fight… hell, it proved she wasn’t breakable and didn’t need a light touch. Literally and figuratively.
Spank. Spank. “Not once, but twice. As our wife, your saf
ety is not an option. If you put yourself at risk, you will be punished. The discomfort you will feel when you sit will be a reminder of the discomfort we felt when we didn’t know where you were.” I paused to let her think about that. “Like you said, I’m not your father, but you certainly need someone to be in charge. At times like these though, when you’re going over my knee, you will call me sir instead.”
She stilled, considered. For a moment, a mere second of time, I’d thought she’d found the error of her ways. Then she continued. “Mr. Wells, we have just met. This is unseemly.”
I laughed at her new direction of diversion—appropriateness. Now she was prim and proper when she wished it to suit her needs.
“Mr. Wells!” she cried, trying to work her way off my lap.
Reaching down, I grabbed the hem of her dress and worked it up, exposing her stocking-clad legs first, a small strip of pale skin between the ribbon holding the stockings up and the white cotton drawers above. While the clouds were creeping in front of the sun, the air was warm and she would not be chilled.
I swore under my breath and my cock pulsed at the sight.
“I believe I said you will call me sir when you are being punished.”
I tugged down her drawers so they settled by her knees, her ass bare and upturned.
She screeched at being so vulnerable, at being seen thusly for the first time by a man. I stilled. James stepped closer at the sight. Pale globes, plump and full. Heart-shaped and the crease down the middle I knew led to her treasures.
I set a hand on one cheek and she jolted. I slid the palm over her delicate skin, skin I knew would turn a fiery shade of pink soon enough. When she calmed again, I lifted my hand, brought it down. Not a hard spank, but enough to sting. A preamble.
Another spank, this time to the other plump cheek. Another, then another until my hand prints covered most of her upturned flesh.
“Sir!” she cried.
Fuck. She’d done it. She’d said Sir. She’d recognized she was not in charge. I was. And so quickly. Pre-cum spurted from my cock at that one word.
I continued to spank her, watching that soft flesh jiggle as I did so, until she was writhing on my lap, her legs parting from her efforts. Neither of us could miss the glimpses of her little asshole as it winked, then released as she tightened, then relaxed her muscles. And below, the folds of her pussy all pink and plump, we could easily see the way they glistened, an indication she liked this.
Since this was the first one she received from us, I kept it short. I didn’t spank her hard enough to do more than obtain her attention and make her ass sore for a short while. Not even intense enough for tears. Cupping her heated—and very red—bottom, I rubbed the spanking in, let her settle as she continued to wriggle. Soothed her. No man had touched her like this, I was sure. Her body knew instinctively it wanted me to shift my hand, to slide it down and over her pussy. I did, brushing my fingertips over her swollen lips, coating them in her sticky arousal.
“Wet,” I said, then groaned. She was like silk, dripping wet and hot to the touch.
“She might have had her claws out earlier, but it seems our little kitten purrs when she’s petted just right.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James shift his cock within his pants.
Tennessee gasped, then moaned as my fingers found her hardened clit. “This is… you shouldn’t… don’t stop… oh dear lord. Mr. Wells,” she murmured. When I stilled my hand, she looked over her shoulder at me. Her cheeks were as flushed as her upturned ass. Her eyes blurry with newfound desire. She thrust her hips up.
“Sir,” I prompted.
“Sir,” she replied breathlessly. “What are you… I, it’s—”
“You liked your spanking,” I told her, sliding my fingers over every inch of her pussy, but not lingering on her clit or sinking into her virgin hole. This was an… awakening only. “This is part of it.”
She shook her head, her hair now completely loose, the ribbon lying upon the grass beneath her. Even as she did that, she lifted her hips, trying to work herself on my hand to an unconscious rhythm.
I recognized the signs. She was close to coming, with her little pants and whimpers of need, the way her hips worked.
I pulled my hand away and lifted her up so she stood between my legs once again. Her dress fell back in place, but I had not secured her drawers, and I had to assume they were now about her ankles. From the look on James’ face as he began to walk closer, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be wearing them much longer. I lifted my sticky fingers to my mouth, licked her desire away. Sweet and spicy, just like her.
I shifted, my cock throbbing, my balls full of cum just for her. Soon. “Bad girls get spanked,” I said, my voice deep with arousal. “Good girls get to come after.”
She was a contradiction, subdued from her spanking, but also from the arousal coursing through her veins. Her hair was wild and untamed about her head, her cheeks flushed. She had the looks of a woman being well-pleasured. No doubt her pussy was eager to come, her hips shifting even now with the need to fuck. To find a fulfillment she had never achieved before. Right now, she hadn’t earned it.
“But, but I… ache.”
I stifled a groan, wanting to lower her to the soft grass on the bank of the creek and sink into her. To watch as she took a cock for the first time. To watch her as James fucked her, perhaps putting her on her hands and knees, taking her as deep as he could go.
“Are you a good girl?” James asked, his voice deep with need. He was as affected as I was, but we both knew now was not the time to claim her. “Did you pull Abigail into Mr. Grimsby’s web of danger? Did you almost sell yourself in a saloon? Did you get me beat up with your theatrics?” The list was long.
She bit her lip and nodded, her shoulders drooping as James squatted to help her step out of her bloomers. Her consequences were becoming very clear.
I set her back so I could stand, then led her over to my horse and helped her up, climbing into the saddle so I sat right behind her. I leaned down and murmured, “If you behave the rest of the journey, I will ease that ache in your pussy.”
She squirmed and I wrapped an arm about her waist, pulling her tight against me. My forearm rested just beneath her breasts, her back pressed snuggly to my chest. No doubt she felt the hard prod of my cock at the base of her spine. She stilled. Yes, she certainly had. As we began to follow the creek north, I tried to get comfortable. She wasn’t the only one who ached.
4
TENNESSEE
There was something wrong with me. Surely, there must be something deficient in my nature. I’d been spanked by a man I barely knew and while it had hurt… it had also felt incredibly good. No spanking should feel good. In fact, I’d never experienced anything like it before. I still felt it. While my bottom stung from Mr. Wells’ ministrations, it was between my thighs that held my focus at the moment. I actually ached. Not from discomfort, but from some unknown need. A craving.
The motion of the horse did nothing to soothe me. In fact, it offered quite the opposite effect. The sway had me shifting in the saddle, my… pussy, as the men had called it, rubbing against the saddle. And behind me, I couldn’t miss the feel of Mr. Wells’ hard body. His arm even wrapped about my waist to hold me in place.
Unlike earlier when I’d ridden on James’ lap, I was pulled up snug against Mr. Wells. I couldn’t hold myself removed. I didn’t want to. I liked his hold, the odd comfort he provided.
And that was why I considered myself broken. I shouldn’t want to feel him against my back. I shouldn’t like the span of his hand on my belly, the bump of his chin against the top of my head. He was appealing to the eyes. Both men were, in fact. Both wore simple pants and shirts, sturdy boots, wide-brimmed hats to block the sun. They weren’t dressed in fancy suits like those in Butte. They were ranchers, pure and simple.
The girls at school would have giggled and swooned at the sight of them. Quite the opposite in appearance, where James was dark in hair
and eyes, Mr. Wells was fair. I considered him to be a decade older than James, old enough perhaps to even be my father.
Was that why I felt comfort from him? Did I look upon him as a woman seeing an attractive man—all broad-shouldered and square-jawed, thick pale hair with a few threads of gray, full lips but a gentle smile—but also craving something he provided because of his age? My father had offered no love, no comfort. He’d been stern, but not in the way Mr. Wells was. Father had never laid a hand on me in punishment, but had been ruthless in his words. Verbal abuse he offered generously. And never once had he held or comforted me.
His intentions were single-minded. Driven. He’d come to town early under the guise of attending my graduation, but instead he’d used me horribly, ready to marry me off to the richest man to solve his problems. Me, trapped for the rest of my life with a man I didn’t love just so my father could pay off his debts, fill his bank account… and most likely empty it once again. He’d either leave me to a loveless, lonely life to never return, or return because he wanted more from me. To bleed me dry, not of body, but definitely of my soul. My heart had grown numb to him long ago.
My mind was a muddle. I’d argued with Mr. Wells, but couldn’t do much more. He was much larger, and I posed little competition to his strength if he’d wished to put me over his knee himself. There were two of them content to see me punished, but thinking back, that wasn’t really why I’d laid myself over Mr. Wells’ thighs. They hadn’t conceded, hadn’t given in to my tantrum. Stalwart, they’d meted out their dissatisfaction, their upset in my actions. They were correct, I couldn’t have run. And I had been bad. Lord, what a mess I’d put myself in. Over and over.