“Oh, Angus. I don’t like the strap.” She whined like a small girl, and though she hated the sound of it, but she couldn’t figure any other way to get out of this — or at least convince him to go easier on her.
“I’m sure you do — but it’s not meant to be pleasant. It’s meant to hurt, and hurt bad enough that your ass tingles the next time you decide to lie.” He drew her over his lap, settling her on his thighs. “Let’s get this started.”
He tapped the cold, hard wood on her bottom before pulling away and smacking it down upon the center of her backside with such force she shouted out in alarm. That first swat, no matter what the implement, always came as a shock. She clenched her muscles in preparation for the next blow.
“Nope, this isn’t going to work. I don’t want you to bruise, and you’ll bruise clenching like that. Her pushed her over his left thigh, her buttocks now elevated and her charms no doubt on obscene display. He covered her legs with one of his own, rendering her truly unable to struggle or move, or in this position. “That’s better. You won’t bruise as much this way.”
As much.
Then, without warning, he brought the brush down in a fast flurry of swats that had her clawing at his leg and the floor, trying to find a way to crawl away from his punishing strikes. She’d hoped she would be able to keep her cries down, since it was the middle of the day and the fellow travelers were all sitting around with nothing to do. All because of her and Minnie.
That’s when it dawned on her. That was why he did it in the middle of the day — he wanted the pioneers to know that he took his job as husband and wagon master seriously. He punished her severely as an example to everyone else in the camp. He knew she wouldn’t be able to contain her emotions or shouts of pain.
She knew she deserved this — and more.
Minnie, poor Minnie.
Who knew what Minnie was enduring at this very moment? She prayed that they didn’t kill her or defile her. Clara would never know how different this would have turned out if she’d told Mr. Anderson about Minnie leaving, or told Angus as soon as he returned to the camp. Yes, she deserved this punishment, and she’d take it without embarrassment — well, not too much, anyway — so that everyone knew she’d been soundly paddled for her offense.
Soon enough, after several rounds of the brush, her whole bottom was a raw mass of hurt. He’d made sure to give her thighs their share of strokes too, not stopping until they throbbed just as much as her poor buttocks. She sobbed pathetically, every ounce of fight drained from her as she lay limp over his lap, screeching with each new impact from the remorseless wood.
Finally, he stopped, the brush dropping to the wooden tabletop with a jarring clatter. “You think you’ll be able to obey the rules now, Mrs. Warren?
“Yes… Sir.”
He lightly rubbed her bottom, soothing the scorched, aching flesh. “C’mon, time to stand up.” She stood, her knees wobbling as he held her in place waiting for her legs to support her. “Put your hands on the seat of the chair, legs shoulder width apart.”
“Oh, no! Angus, I just can’t!” She clasped her hands to her bottom, shaking her head at him. She felt desperate, like she might run and actually looked toward the flap of the tent.
“Girl, don’t even think about it. You can’t handle the paddling you just received.” He raised both his eyebrows at her, in shock. “You want more? Is that what you really want?”
“N-no. I don’t. But, please don’t use your belt, Angus.” Her lip quivered. “Please.” She hated that she’d resorted to begging, but she couldn’t imagine how she’d handle more.
He paused, watching her closely. Was he actually going to relent?
“I’m not backing down. Bad girls who lie receive the belt. Period. It’s just the way it is. I know you don’t think you can handle more, but you will.” He took his belt off, folding it in his hand, palming the buckle. “I won’t be doing you any favors if you think some tears and begging will stay my hand. You need to know that once I give my word, I won’t back down.”
She stared at the large hand holding the thick, brown belt. Her legs started to shake again.
“Bend over, girl. I won’t say it again.”
She pivoted, facing the black spindle-back chair, placing her hands flat on the seat.
He tapped his booted foot on the inside of her ankle. “Open your legs.”
Her voice broke into a sob as she widened her stance, knowing the position revealed everything. Her fear of her punishment and the pain in her bottom had overwhelmed her arousal though.
“They’ll be fast and hard. You’re only getting a dozen. You won’t lie to me again, girlie.”
He kept a hand on her lower back and started thrashing her buttocks. On top of the freshly paddled skin, the leather stung like a thousand bee stings. She squeezed the edge of the chair seat with her hands, but when it became too much, her knees started to bend so deeply she thought she might fall to the floor.
Angus wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking her to his hip. “Only four more, girl.” He gave them fast, dropping the belt to the floor when he’d finished, enveloping her in his warm embrace. He held her, both of them swaying together until her breathing returned to normal, her cries reduced to sniffling.
“Please promise me that you won’t ever make me do that again. Now, it’s time to stand in the corner and think about how you’ll do things differently from now on.” He walked her over to a sewn seam of the tent. “Except, I’m doing this different too. Bend at the waist and stand still.”
Clara peeked over her shoulder watching as he reached over to the table, picking up a white candle, quickly turning her face to the wall of the tent when he came back to her. He poured the wax onto her lower back just above her right cheek, the warmth spreading to her spine, relaxing her.
“I’m pooling the wax into a small area so I can place the candle into the thickened wax. This candle will drip down your spanked cheek. It won’t burn your quim or your anus, but it will cover the cheek and thigh, sealing in the heat already present. It won’t be pleasant, but it shouldn’t be overly painful either. If it becomes painful, you let me know, sweetie. Okay?”
“Yes, Sir. It just burns a little.”
He pulled his chair right up behind her. “I’ll be right here watching and ready to catch the candle should it come lose. It’ll burn a little more than last night, but it’ll keep that red flesh hot so you can think about what caused your punishment today.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The wax slowly slid down her spanked bottom, and he’d been right about one thing: it stung as it made the trek down to her thigh. His fingers wandered over her flesh, sliding into her sex. He anchored another candle above her left cheek while he delved deep into the secret places of her body. He blew lightly on the cooling wax and flicked her clit, drawing her right to the edge of the cliff. Then he pulled away, slapping her hip. He would stoke the fires only to dampen them again. Reaching through her legs, his hand grasped one of her breasts, twisting the nipple, pinching and tugging until she moaned, her hips jerking in response. Her reaction made the wax dribble close to her little back hole.
“Oh, Angus. It’s so close to my...” She didn’t want to even say it out loud to him.
“Oh, yes, I see it, girl. It’s not getting that close, but I bet it burns on that sensitive skin. That skin is so tender. Imagine if I spanked that area too.”
Spank her ... back there? Do people do that?
“W-would you... you can’t. Would you really do that to me?”
“Oh, most definitely. If I thought you deserved it, or you did something that warranted such a painful punishment, I wouldn’t hesitate. Does that scare you? Or does the thought of having your little pink rosebud spanked turn you on, girl?” He pressed his thumb against the little pucker, but didn’t push it through the tight muscles there. Not yet, anyway. She clenched and unclenched, feeling the work-roughened pad of his thumb stroke back and forth over her tender entr
ance.
“Jesus, that’s hot. I felt your little asshole wink under my thumb.” He pressed into her, and she reflexively tried to stand up, forgetting the candle for a moment.
“Don’t!” Angus shouted, and she immediately moved back into position, her slight movement thankfully not enough to upset the lit candle.
“You’ll stay still and let me finger your little ass. I wish you could see this the way I’m seeing it. Your beautiful, rosy pink ass with visible hair brush marks on your hips, bent over with white wax dripping down your freshly spanked backside. It’s just fucking sexy, Clara.”
His finger lightly traced the drip marks on her bottom. “And now my right hand is covering your other cheek, my thumb in your little hole, the scent of your arousal filling my nostrils while your sweet honey is coating that fine blonde hair on your cute little cunt.” He exhaled loudly, his breath blowing lightly over her sex, his thumb pumping slowly into her dark hole.
“Oh, God, Angus! I’m going to come. Is that…please?” She knew her voice sounded strangled, her teeth gritted so hard, her molars hurt. If he said no, she’d just have to be punished — because she had hit the point of no return.
“Good girl. Yes, you may come.” He pulled out of her ass only to jam a finger into her fast and hard, pumping quickly, another finger sliding into her pussy, flicking her clit. It took every ounce of her strength, but she stayed bent over, not moving from her position as her sex convulsed, contracting hard with her orgasm. She clamped a fist between her teeth, trying to stifle the sound of her growling moan, her cum releasing, the warm fluid gushing from her sex, wetness dripping from her labia.
Still bent over, Clara panted, trying to catch her breath, the sudden smell of sulfur strong in the tent as he extinguished the candle. “Stay bent over. I gotta scrape the wax off your bottom. It’s going to hurt some since you have a naughty spanked backside.”
The knife blade scraped along her flesh, unpeeling the wax as it went along, causing her to wiggle and whine under the pain, but overall, she kept quiet and patiently held her position. It was the least she could do. It was undoubtedly less than what poor Minnie was enduring at that moment.
The process had been time consuming and by the time Angus finished getting the last bit of wax off of her, she’d had to wipe away a few tears. Relief didn’t begin to describe how she felt, now that it was over.
“Come here, girl.” She pivoted toward him, his warm smile, and outstretched arms beckoning her forth. She couldn’t help but dash toward him, rushing into the safety of those large, muscular arms, letting herself be enveloped by him. His chest hair tickled her nose as she inhaled, smelling soap, leather, horses — and Angus. She’d never tire of him, that smell alone awakening her sexually. She pressed her hips against him, the hard ridge of his cock pressing into her belly.
“Let’s find a way to save your ass from any more friction, and give me what I want too. I need a rider today. Wanna go for a ride, girl?” He sat in the wooden chair, his penis jutting up, jerking with his arousal.
“I think I might like that, Mr. Warren.” She straddled him, his large hands on each hip hoisting her up, then guiding her down upon him. She bit her lip at the delicious feel of the deep penetration, his cock wide and long, the ridges stroking and rubbing all the right places inside, causing her head to roll back in ecstasy, her eyes closing. She swiveled her hips, sliding slowly up and down his length, leaning forward so her clit would be caressed by the silky smooth skin of his turgid member. She clenched her inner muscles around him on the way up, listening to him moan as he gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the plump flesh of her ass.
He tugged her closer to him, pounding into her. She rose up, pressing her toes into the ground below her. “Wait. Do I get to be in control when I’m sitting like this?”
“What?” He looked confused, eyebrows furrowed.
“Do I get to control what happens and when it happens, when I’m on top of you, like you do when you’re on top of me?” She ran her hands lightly over his shoulders. She loved the feel of those hard muscles under her fingers.
“I guess. I don’t like to give up much control, so I may change my mind without much warning.
But you can try to be in control for a while.” He shrugged and then his lips curled in a lopsided grin. “Might be fun to see what you do with a little control in bed.”
“I like being in charge sometimes too, you know.”
“Can’t say I’m really shocked by that, Mrs. Warren. Sorry if you were expecting an argument.”
She smiled at him. He had no idea how much fun she’d have with this. “Hands on the chair or behind your head,” she barked out at him, making sure she used his words against him.
He narrowed his gaze at her, slowly putting his hands behind his head. His cock twitched inside her, and she clenched around it, listening to his rumble from deep in his chest.
She twirled her hips, rising slowly, painfully so judging by the way he grit his teeth. She clenched tightly on the glide up, releasing her grip on him on the slide down — which she also made excruciatingly slow. While her hips made the slow, torturous journey, she scraped her thumbnails lightly over his nipples, nibbling along his neck and collarbone. She sat back, sliding and swiveling, watching his face tighten, his teeth clench. She bit his lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth, teasing him, sliding her tongue along the roof of his mouth. She pulled away with a lazy smile, waggling her eyebrows at him.
“Damn it, woman. I ain’t going to last like this forever.”
“Oh you’ll last, don’t you worry.” He jerked his hips, trying to pound into her. She leaned back, her hands upon his thighs, stilling her hips from any movement at all, perfectly motionless — and not allowing him to move either. She clenched his cock as hard as she could, but still didn’t move, watching his eyes close with a groan.
“Done. I’m in charge!” he snarled, pulling her hands off his thighs and grabbing her hips once more, his fingers digging into her spanked flesh. He proceeded to bounce her off his cock, pounding within her, the head rubbing against the mouth of her womb on each deep thrust. This time it was Angus who lost control, and he moaned and shouted with his release, sending her over the cliff with her own. He continued to pound into her, her orgasm milking every last drop of his come.
They clung to each other, quietly recovering until he swatted her bottom, making her cry out.
“Think you’re pretty funny with what you did there,” he said. “You proud of yourself?”
She couldn’t hide her smile. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. It felt good to watch you come apart under my control. Is that how you feel?”
“I reckon I do feel that way. I don’t relinquish my control often… but I may like giving it up to you.” She sat up straight with excitement. “Don’t get too damn excited. It won’t be all the time, but I kinda liked watching this side of Mrs. Warren.”
Chapter Seventeen
Minnie looked around at the men now that they were all standing at the counter at the local inn in Independence. They were a seedy crew and she hoped that it raised the innkeeper’s eyebrows a little to see a clean and well-dressed woman with three men who looked exactly like the outlaws they were. She’d just left this place a couple days ago, and hoped that maybe someone would remember her or place her as someone who’d been on the Widow Wagon.
The innkeeper came to the counter, and, just as she hoped, he looked her up and down, slipping a furtive glance at the men before addressing them directly. “How are you men doing today?”
“We need two rooms.” Red spoke up for them all.
“No. We need three rooms.” Kane glared at Red. “I ain’t sleeping with you again. You snore too much.” Red’s teeth were such a mess that Minnie had a hard time even looking at him. He turned and spit into a spittoon, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He noticed her watching him. “What the fuck are you lookin’ at?”
She jumped at the har
shness of his voice, backing up a step toward Silas, dropping her gaze to the floor. Once again, Silas seemed like the safest captor, and at least she knew he’d keep her safer than Red would.
“Shut yer trap, Red.” Silas pulled her behind him, stepping up to the counter. “We — the lady and I — need our own room, Sir.” He cocked a thumb toward his companions. “Those two will have their own room.”
“Is that okay with you, little lady?” The innkeeper leaned toward her. “Do you know this man in that kind of manner?”
She looked to over at Silas, and one eyebrow shot up as he dipped his chin. The last thing she wanted was to be in a room with a man she didn’t know, but when given the choice between Silas, Red, of Kane, she’d pick Silas any day.
“Yes, Sir, I’m fine with that,” she said, looking the innkeeper in the eye. “Thank you for asking.”
He narrowed his gaze at her, pen in hand with the guestbook open. “As owner of this Inn, it’s my job to ensure the safety — moral or otherwise — of my guests. If there’s an issue, you let me know.”
“Just what are you saying here? You got a problem with us and our situation here?” Red pulled his gun out of his gun belt and stood with it staring down at the man. “Cuz if you do, you need to talk to us men, not some silly snot-nosed woman.”
The innkeeper put both hands up, though his gaze didn’t falter one bit. “Son, I suggest you put that gun away. I don’t have a problem with any of you, and if you want a room here, pulling a gun on me ain’t going to make it happen any faster. Trust me. I’m just checking with the woman here, not meaning to cause any trouble.”
Silas pushed Red’s gun down. “Put that goddamn thing away, Red. Christ, are you that tired and ornery?” He leaned on the counter, smiling at the man. “He hasn’t had any sleep in a couple days and is just cantankerous.”
Sighing, the innkeeper signed them all into the guestbook and handed the keys for the rooms to Silas.
Cinch Your Saddle (The Widow Wagon Book 3) Page 13