More Than She Bargained For (The Widow Wagon Book 2)

by Megan Michaels

  Pulling her into his embrace, he played with her tail. “So what’s your answer, girl? Are you going to agree to the consequences of behavior that not only makes yourself look bad, but also makes your parents and myself look bad?”

  “When you put it that way, I almost have to agree. I don’t want to do anything that makes you — or me — look bad. But do I have to agree with all the things you listed?”

  “Yes, you do. It’s important that the punishment be hard enough that you become a good girl quickly. You will not be — what’s the word — embarrassing me in front of friends again.” He squeezed her bottom harshly, the meaning clear.

  “Y-yes, Sir! Okay. I agree. I’ll behave, and if not, you can punish me.” She dropped her gaze, resting her forehead on his chest, feeling the hot blush rise up her neck.

  “Good glut. I think your backside is red enough for what you said. Now, back to cleaning!” He pointed at the floor cheerfully, smiling at her like she should just skip over to the area he pointed at and merrily clean. She scowled at the pail and sponge still waiting for her on the floor. But when he reached for his riding crop that he’d placed on the drum table, she quickly dropped to all fours and crawled over to the pail, her moan stopping her as she pushed her bottom out, trying in vain to relieve the burn between her legs.

  Damn, son-of-a-bitchin’ ginger. Fuck figging!

  She slowly and methodically washed the floor. Of course, Noah refused to leave her alone to complete her chore. He poked her with the crop occasionally, taking the handle and pressing it onto the ginger to watch her jump. Then he’d drop to a knee, murmuring at her to hold still while he slid his finger through her slit, circling her clit while his other hand squeezed her breasts harshly. Then he’d stand once more with a curt order to continue, the crop’s parting slap to her pussy only heightening her arousal.

  Daisy had started to move a table so she could mop under it, when Noah leapt up from his chair to move it for her. She’d assumed that he’d gone back to his chair, when all of a sudden his tongue pressed against the sensitive flesh between her slit and her bottom hole. Grabbing her tail, he pulled the hair up onto her back. “God, that’s just fucking hot. Every time I move that tail, your muscles suck on the plug. Seeing it tighten and release is just the hottest damn thing.”

  He then pulled the ginger out, pushing his tongue into her pussy swirling and licking. She pushed back onto his face. She never had oral this much in her marriage to Jesse. He’d always felt it wasn’t ‘proper.’ Until Noah, she had not a clue how amazing it could be — it wasn’t exactly something she could talk about with her friends. She wondered how many of them did this with their husbands. Did other couples pretend to be pets? She’d seen photographs of women dressed as horses and cats, but never thought that they may have done the dress up for sexual purposes — or in her case, for punishment too.

  Her clit had never been so sensitive. Just touching the hair on her pussy seemed too much. The burn, although uncomfortable and seeming to never end, at the same time seemed to spread out to include her clit. And once he put that ginger into her sex, she’d felt like a cat in heat.

  No wonder the horses kept their tails in the air.

  Noah then grabbed the tail and said, “Daisy, you need to push back on this. Push.” She did as he instructed and although it was uncomfortable with him tugging on the plug, the tail came out relatively easily.

  “Since this is punishment, I won’t be striving for you to come this time with anal. If it happens, great. But your completion isn’t the goal. My satisfaction and my enjoyment are the only focus. I’ll keep you comfortable, but whether you have an orgasm or not isn’t an issue. Good girls get orgasms.”

  She was shocked. Well and truly shocked. She looked at him over her shoulder, and he met her gaze, his eyebrows raised. She’d never been told such a thing. How could he not care if she came or not? It didn’t go with who he was. Overall, Noah had been a caring and considerate husband. He always made sure her needs were met — both in and out of the bedroom.

  Before she could even protest this declaration though, his turgid member was pushing at her back entrance. Reflexively, she arched her back, clenching her bottom to try to prevent his entry.

  “Daisy.” He dragged her name out long and low, his deep voice making her belly flutter. “This is no different than you taking in that last plug. You’re ready for me. The only thing that’ll make this hurt is you fighting it. I promised to take care of you, but if you don’t listen to my directions, you’ll end up sore. Choice is yours. This is happening tonight. How comfortable it is will depend upon your behavior.”

  It gave Daisy pause. She didn’t want this to hurt — any more than it already had with the ginger and plugs. He’d prepared her with the tails and she had no reason to distrust him now.

  Except that she was afraid that it would still hurt.

  Noah watched her intently, and finally, rather than answer him aloud, she simply nodded her head. His finger entered her, coating her with oil to ease the insertion of his cock. When she felt him pressing on her anus, she pushed back, his cock slowly sliding into her until his balls slapped against her pussy.

  He’d been right, the plugs had made it easier.

  “Do you trust me now, min kær?” He gently patted her hip, keeping himself still until she adjusted to his length and girth.

  “Yes, Sir. Sorry.” He pressed a finger into her quim while he slowly started to thrust his cock inside her anus. He’d pull his fingers out and play with her clit, sliding his finger in the slippery juices between her labia. He teased and tortured her sex, leaving her panting in response.

  “Daisy?”

  Good Lord, does he expect me to talk? Lord, the intrusion into both holes is almost more than I can handle. Really?

  “Y-yes?” she said, stuttering out her response amid her shameless panting.

  “I’m able to touch you and do whatever I want with you. I want you to know that you are under my control. I won’t hurt you. But when you’re being punished, if I decide to bring you to the edge of an orgasm for the whole night, that’s what I’ll do. You receiving an orgasm is never a sure thing. If I decide to let you come, I’ll let you know.”

  She nodded, unable to speak. After the innumerable embarrassments she’d endured today, this seemed minor. She’d succumbed to the arousal, no longer caring about her position, or what he was doing to her at that point. She focused on sensations, the blissful, unbelievable sensations.

  Although it was uncomfortable — and she’d never admit it to him — the plugs and ginger must have prepared her better than she’d thought they would. It didn’t hurt much at all when he thrust into her ass, and with all the ministrations to her clit she feared his cock plundering her dark hole might leave her a shivery, wanton mess. She moaned low and long, deep in her throat, his cock filling her and pulsing within her, tipping her to the edge of an orgasm.

  He pulled his hand away from her clit then, leaving her feeling robbed. She whined at the loss.

  “I told you, girl. I decide when you come, and tonight is about my completion.”

  He started to pound into her at a quicker pace, his hips and balls bouncing off her freshly spanked bottom. The fingers of one hand massaged her scalp and then fisted in her hair, pulling her head up, arching her back. She knew the position forced her bottom into a more prominent position, even as she knew she could do nothing about it.

  “I love this hair,” he said, continuing to piston into her, reaching around to play with her pussy again, kissing her between her shoulder blades.

  Daisy moaned and exhaled loudly on each thrust of his cock into her tight hole. Although it wasn’t the most comfortable thing she’d done, it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Her arousal had been so high all day, and this just seemed to add to it. That, along with the humiliation, embarrassment, spanking, tails, plugs and pony play left her fearing she might actually scream with her release.

  “Do you need me to stop, Daisy?
Are you okay, my glut?” His voice was soft and raspy, edged with a tightness from his arousal.

  “No! No, Sir, please. Don’t stop. Fuck me!” Her body loved this treatment, reveled in the tender caresses and brushing, the tail, the humiliation, and the sweet attentiveness. The crop on her pussy, the spankings, all of it was harsh — yet she had never been this aroused.

  Was this what I needed all along? Is this my soul mate?

  “Christ!” He thrust into her so hard that if he hadn’t been holding onto her hair, she would have been pushed onto the floor. “That is so goddamn hot. Yes, min kær, I’ll fuck you.”

  He proceeded to fuck even harder than he’d ever done before. It burned, but when he pressed his fingers onto her clit her climax was like the bars of a cell exploding open, blessed release. She screamed with her orgasm, and while her throat became raw from her screeches, she heard his deep growl above her as he came. His hot essence filled her, spreading into her, warming the dark channel deep inside. She collapsed onto her elbows with her forehead on the floor, and he relaxed onto her back, placing soft kisses in her hair, on her shoulders, at the nape of her neck.

  He slowly drew his semi erect cock out of her and tugged her to lie with him, spooned to his chest. “You did so well, girl. Are you okay?”

  “I’m more than okay. I really liked that, Sir.” She peeked at him over her shoulder and he pulled her in close.

  Chapter 14

  Willie had been in Chimney Rock for two days. He’d learned that Daisy Anderson had become a mail-order bride to Noah Jensen, a Danish immigrant with a large horse ranch. And as luck would have it, when he asked about Daisy and Noah at the saloon, the bartender asked if he was answering the ad for a ranch hand at the Jensen ranch.

  “Yes. Yes, I am. Do you know if he’s still lookin’ for someone?” Willie grabbed his shot of whiskey and downed it, trying to appear casual. He scanned the bar to catch a glimpse of the men around him. There was an older man who didn’t appear to be listening at all. And on the other side of him, further down, were a couple of saloon girls. He didn’t need to worry about anyone asking him too many personal questions here.

  Willie turned on his barstool in the bustling, smoke-filled saloon, looking out the window onto the main street of Chimney Rock. The beautiful landmark was within view of the saloon, the reddish-brown clay pillar rising from the large rock formation in the distant plain. When he’d left Courthouse Rock and made his way toward Chimney Rock, the “chimney” could be seen for miles, the sandstone and clay formation contrasting beautifully against the deep blue skies Nebraska was renowned for.

  No one — except for Daisy, he was sure — was more surprised than he was that the Widow Wagon had confused her destination as Courthouse Rock, rather than Chimney Rock. He’d spent over a month looking for her in Courthouse Rock, a town which also had a rock formation that resembled castle ruins.

  The bartender smiled his way. “He sure is. Nice man too. Hard worker and honest. He treats his horses and employees well. I hear tell he just got married. His wife is quite a pretty little filly too — a mail-order bride.” He wiped the bar in front of Willie with a clean white cloth.

  “Glad to hear it. I need this job, and having a boss that’s fair ain’t a bad thing.” Willie wouldn’t be there long enough to worry if he was nice or not. His goal was to get that damn ring and hightail it out of Chimney Rock, making his way to Georgia.

  “Are ya lookin’ to go to the Jensen’s today?”

  “I was hopin’ too. Can ya tell me how to get there?”

  The bartender walked to the end of the bar that was closer to the window, pointing up the road. “You go down the main road here. Jest as soon as you get out of town and you pass the pasture with the black steers, their horse ranch is up the road a ways on your right. Can’t miss it. You’ll see those beautiful horses grazing in the fields. You’ll love it. You take it easy, Willie. Your life just became easier.” He extended his hand to Willie. “Welcome to Chimney Rock!”

  “I appreciate it,” Willie said, shaking the bartender’s hand. “It’s time that my life became easier. This will be a damn good start to that. I’ll see ya around on my next payday.” Willie headed for the door, walking out into the sun-baked street.

  * * *

  Finding his horse, Willie made his way toward the Jensen Ranch, his mind going back over the visit with General PGT Beauregard, Willie’s uncle.

  Willie and his father, Ben, had settled into PGT’s den, his father had pulled out the map the soldiers had given him when they came to the house to tell him of his son, Bobby’s death.

  “What is this, PGT? The soldiers said it came from you?” Ben handed the map over to PGT.

  “Oh! Yes, this is the map I sent to Bobby.” PGT stopped looking at the map, to look over his glasses at the men. “I sent a ring with it. Do ya have the ring?”

  “Nah, Uncle, the soldiers said those damn Yankees took the ring and said they was givin’ it to the dead man’s wife.” Willie shook his head in disgust. It just didn’t make sense to him how a soldier could take something off a dead man’s body and then give it to someone else.

  PGT shook his head, rubbing his brow. “Now, that there is a problem. It’s a big problem. Is there a way for you to get it back — at all?”

  Willie’s father, Ben, sighed. “We ain’t sure, to be honest. We went to Boston, which is where this soldier was from — the one that my son, Bobby, killed. Too bad that son-of-a-bitch killed my boy before he died.” Ben paused to wipe a tear from his eye. “Anyway, this Yankee’s wife apparently moved to Missouri to live with an aunt in the hopes of becoming a mail order bride for an outfit called the Widow Wagon — and gettin’ herself a husband somewhere on the Oregon Trail.”

  PGT spun in his chair, rocking it back and forth. “You see, that ring is a key. A key to a chest filled with Confederate gold. Before the Yankees took over New Orleans, I pulled all the Confederate gold from the bank and I had trunks filled with it all carried in the middle of the night to Columbus, Georgia. I have a friend who owns a bank — he kept it there. But when the Yankees were ready to take over Georgia, the trunks of gold were buried in different locations around Columbus.”

  He’d put the map on the table, pointing at the faded red X on the paper. “That’s where your gold is buried. That’s where your inheritance is, son.” PGT looked at Willie. “I told Jesse in the letter that the gold was for both of ya. But now that he’s been killed — may God bless his soul — the gold is all yours. You got to find that ring, William.”

  “Gold? Do you know how much? And where would I cash it once I find it?” Willie looked from his father to his uncle, confused. He didn’t want to be arrested for having something that was stolen or illegal.

  “You’d bring it to a bank in New Orleans, or that bank in Columbus, Georgia. I have people there that are waiting for men to bring the gold in. I’ll give ya the names of the men to ask for. But it’ll be almost impossible to open this chest without the ring. You gotta find this ring, son.” PGT sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “Without the key, that trunk will stay buried in Georgia forever. It’s a shame. A damn shame.”

  * * *

  Coming out of his reverie, Willie looked around at the vast plains on either side of him. And just up ahead he saw the field of black cattle grazing, just as the bartender had told him.

  Willie needed to get this key from Daisy. He’d do just about anything to get that key too. He wasn’t too sure he’d go as far as killin’ — but he wasn’t ruling it out none either.

  He’d be damned if he’d let his fortune and future stay buried in the ground. He’d work his way into their trust, and then when left alone on the property, he’d go into the house and steal the ring from their bedroom. He’d just have to hope she kept it in an obvious place.

  Then, as the bartender had said, just to the right of him was the wooden sign high upon an arched entryway reading: Jensen Ranch.

  He’d made it. Now, to get back
what belonged to him.

  Chapter 15

  “Daisy, we’re not discussing this. Up onto the bed, bottom up high and pull your cheeks apart.”

  “Noah Peter Jensen! I’m sore down there, and I don’t want to do this today.” She stood with her hands on her hips, as if he’d find that intimidating.

  “Girl, you don’t shout my name like I’m the child here. Up. On. The bed. Now.”

  He pointed to the high four-poster, and whatever look he had in his eye must have been frightening because her face paled and her eyes enlarged as she hurriedly clambered up into the prescribed position. Still naked from her bath that morning, her skin had goose bumps and her still pink ass looked adorable tattooed as it was with several random finger marks along with a single, fading purple line in the shape of his riding crop.

  Their bedroom still smelled of lavender from the steaming bath that he’d drawn for Daisy to ease some of the aches and pains from her bottom — and his over-zealous use of her back entrance. When he’d gently woken her that morning, sucking on her nipples, he’d slid down her body to take her clit between his lips, working it with his tongue until she’d screamed with an orgasm. Once she came back down from that sensual high, she’d opened her eyes, giving him a sweet, lazy smile as she stretched and twisted like a cat in the morning sunshine. He’d scooped her up, placing her into the tub, watching her relax into it. She’d moaned softly and closed her eyes, delighting in the warmth and comfort of the water.

  He had gently washed her body — every single inch of it. Licking, kissing, and sucking the just cleaned areas until her body writhed, sloshing warm water over the edge of the footed tub. And when he had her panting, he’d climbed into the tub and pulled her up enough to slide his hard and ready cock into her slick pussy. She’d gasped when he’d pushed into her roughly with one thrust, her head going back, eyes closed, her back arching, pushing an alabaster breast into his mouth. Those pretty peach-colored nipples, erect, hard, and slippery from her bath, slid deliciously into his mouth. The harder he’d sucked, the quicker her sex had pulsed and clenched on his cock until he found himself panting and jerking his hips, thrusting his cock into her up to the hilt.