Janelle gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth in alarm.
“So, when I tell you to stay at home, where I feel you are safe, I expect you to follow my rules. If it takes a spanking with my hand, paddle, strap, or switch every day, I will do it to keep you safe. Now, before I get riled up again, I expect you to get over here as I have asked repeatedly.”
“If you had told me that before, it would have made more sense.” Inching slowly closer, she hung her head. He was the marshal. He had firsthand knowledge about the crimes in Laramie, and she had disregarded his wishes.
“How many times did I warn you that Laramie is a dangerous place? My reluctance to live in town didn’t impress that point upon you? Furthermore, I don’t make a point of talking about brutal murders and assaults with women. It’s not an appropriate topic. You are going to have to learn to trust me. I don’t make rules arbitrarily or on a whim, Janelle. I am the law in this town, and when I make a law in my own household, it will be obeyed.”
She arrived at his side and found she couldn’t meet his gaze. She should have done as he’d told her. Her disobedience and recklessness could have gotten her killed, raped, or forced into prostitution.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t listen, Aaron. I didn’t know.”
“You don’t have to know, darlin’.” He nudged up her chin so she was looking at him before he said emphatically, “what you have to do is trust me.”
She nodded her agreement, feeling horribly guilty for worrying him and disobeying. She surprised herself by acknowledging that she deserved this spanking.
“Lower your drawers and lay across my thighs.” He waited patiently, expecting obedience from her.
Moving into position, she felt his hands at her waist, guiding her. Once her belly rested across his thighs, he angled her forward, which lifted her feet off the floor. With a small squeal of alarm, she instinctively sought to steady herself, one hand reaching for the floor, the other gripping his pant leg. It wasn’t necessary though, because Aaron had firm control of her body. His strength would never allow her to fall on her face; neither would it allow her to struggle and break free. His right leg wrapped around both of hers, and she was anchored firmly in place.
“Give me your right hand.” She reached back until his unyielding fingers wrapped around her wrist and bent her arm up and out of the way. “I’ll begin with my hand and finish with the brush. I expect you to learn your lesson this time, Janelle. I don’t want to have to teach it again.”
Without waiting for a response, he began to spank with firm, openhanded swats directly to her bare bottom. It stung as before, but this time she knew he wasn’t going to stop at a mere twenty swats. She’d messed up too much for that. After a brief pause in which he adjusted her position more securely on his lap, she felt something cool and smooth brush against her warm skin and knew he had picked up the wooden hairbrush. It wasn’t very large, but she imagined in Aaron’s hand the innocent brush would create a burning fire when it struck her already tender butt.
The first swat landed, and she realized she was wrong. It wasn’t a fire he created—it was a freaking inferno. He wielded the brush with quick stingy strokes that shocked Janelle and robbed her lungs of air. By the sixth, she had regained her breath, and by the tenth, her voice, as she started begging him to stop.
“Oh, Aaron, please, that burns and stings something awful!”
“Good, pay close attention to how it feels. Maybe next time you’ll remember this before you fly off like a June bug on a string.” He didn’t slow down or pause, and by the twentieth swat, tears were rolling down her cheeks unchecked. After that, she lost count until he moved down to paddle her thighs.
“Ouch! Please, Aaron! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”
“You better not. I expect you to stay where I put you. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask.” He continued with more stinging swats to the tender area where her bottom met her thighs until she lay still, yielding to the inevitability of her punishment. Gasping in jerky, shuddering breaths, she didn’t realize he’d set the brush aside, until she felt gentle fingers rubbing her inflamed skin. When she had calmed and her breathing had evened out, he helped her to stand and pulled her between his thighs. Knowing she was a mess, she looked around for something to tidy her face while wiping at her runny nose with the back of her hand. Aaron helped by producing a handkerchief and drying her tears, in the end holding it to her nose and telling her to ‘blow’.
“Okay, honey, into the corner where you can think about your behavior for a spell.” He led her to the empty corner that was directly across from his favorite chair. While seated, she knew he would have a perfect view of her burning backside, which she imagined was glowing bright enough to light the room without lamps.
Completely chastened, she went along willingly for once, not daring to move an inch from where he put her. “Just remember, if you were in the corner as I asked before the spanking, we’d be cuddling right now.” His lips brushed her hair, and then he left her to think.
After about thirty minutes, he came to get her, turning her into his chest and giving her a warm hug. She murmured that she was sorry as he guided her over to the bed.
“All’s forgiven, sweet pea. Lie down on your belly and relax. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him cross to his dresser and pick something up. Surely, he wouldn’t spank her anymore. Hadn’t she shown her remorse and promised to behave? As he returned, she saw that he held something in his hand.
“Aaron?” she gasped in alarm.
“Hush, honey, you’ve had enough spanking.” Sitting beside her on the bed, she saw he held a long shoot of a prickly plant in his hand. He split it with his thumb and pressed a milky liquid directly onto his palm before he rubbed lightly into her heated skin. The cool substance felt wonderfully soothing, and she sighed.
“This is aloe vera. Ma swears by this for burns of all kinds, even ones on naughty bottoms. She gave me a plant a while back.”
“Your ma?” Shocked, she rolled to her side and gaped at him. “Good heavens, does your father spank your mother?”
He gave her an amused look and came back with, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, darlin’.”
“But they seem so much in love.”
Shaking his head thoughtfully, he replied, “You still don’t understand how this works. If Pa didn’t love her so much, he wouldn’t take the time to correct her. I know many men who care little for their wives. If their wives acted like you and wandered around town unescorted, their husband’s wouldn’t bat an eye. I know it sounds like a contradiction, but a lot of men who spank their wives love them as much, if not more than, those who don’t spank. Of course, there are those that are abusive, but I don’t think a spanking is abuse. I’ll never take my fist to you, slap your face, or degrade you. That would be abuse. Paddling your butt until you cry isn’t easy for me, honey, but if it means I can ensure your safety and well-being, I’ll do it until I get my message across.
“Couldn’t we just talk it through like adults?”
“I tried that. I was up front with you and told you my rules from the beginning. And we’ve discussed them several times. In fact, I remember after our wedding night you were able to list them all correctly. Then you agreed to follow them, or am I mistaken?”
“No, sir, you’re not mistaken.”
“Were any of them unclear?”
The reluctant shake of her head must have satisfied him because he continued his lecture. “So, you knew the rules but chose to test them and break them. Now that you have experienced the consequences, don’t you think you’ll think twice before defying me and breaking the rules again in the future?”
She opened her mouth to make her case, but paused. Was he right? She had been balking against his seemingly arbitrary rules. However, each time he’d spanked her it was for a valid reason, either for cursing or for some kind of disrespect, but most of all for running off repeatedly and putting herself at
risk. She didn’t know the area or the people or the time. He was trying to keep her safe, she realized that, but she still kept pushing. Was she really just testing him?
Except today hadn’t been about herself. She’d had a legitimate concern for Letty, or so she thought. Did he really expect her to sit tight like a good little wife until he rode in to play the hero? Looking at her old-fashioned husband now, she realized that was a stupid question. Of course he did—wasn’t that the whole point of this spanking?
“What if it’s an emergency, Aaron? What do I do then?”
“You stay where I put you, darlin’. I will always come for you.”
“What if the house is on fire?”
“Don’t be impertinent.” His tone was warning enough to rush an explanation.
“I’m serious, Aaron, what if there is a real emergency, like a fire, or I’m sick, or someone breaks in? How do you people live without telephones?”
He thought about that for a while. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Whittamore. She lives in the white house next door. She’s older and only leaves her house for church on Sundays. Her oldest daughter lives with her; she is the schoolmarm. I’ll see if it’s okay for you to go there in an emergency. There’s also Mr. Hatcher in the red brick house next to her. He’s an attorney, but his father moved in with him a while back. His pa no longer works, but he’s spry for his age and can shoot the wings off a fly at 100 paces. I’m sure he’d help out, too. And that way, I’ll know where to look for you.”
“Thank you, Aaron.”
“That wouldn’t have made a difference today, though, would it?”
“No, sir. In hindsight, I guess I should have stayed where you put me.”
“You guess?”
“Okay, I know now I should have stayed put.”
“Now you’re learning, honey.” Giving her butt one more pass with the aloe, he finished and reached for a towel. “You rest for a bit, and I’ll go see what I can put together for supper.”
When he moved to get up, Janelle reached out and caught his hand. “Will you hold me until I fall asleep, Aaron?”
“Absolutely, sweet pea.”
His smile was a mixture of pleasure and relief, and she realized he was worried about her reaction. That made her pause. She knew she was struggling adjusting to his discipline, but she didn’t realize it was hard on him too.
Pulling off his boots, he climbed in next to her and gathered her close, careful to position her so that her bare bottom wasn’t rubbing against his Levi’s or the bedding.
“That’s nice, cowboy,” her voice was husky from her tears as sleep settled in.
“The cuddling?”
“Well, yes, that’s nice, but I meant when you call me sweet pea. I like that. I’ve never had a pet name or even a nickname before.”
Pulling her against his chest, he pressed a tender kiss against her fragrant hair. “Now you do. Sleep now, sweet pea.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Anything.”
“What in tarnation does a June bug on a string have to do with anything?”
He squeezed her tight. “That means, you can’t fly around wildly in circles, and you can’t run off lickety-split without thinking, like you have been. You stay where I put you.”
Her deep, sonorous breathing was her only response.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Janelle awoke well before Aaron and tried her hand at cooking a hot breakfast. While staying with his parents, she had watched Letty often in the kitchen. His ma hadn’t let her help much, but she’d shown her how to work the cast iron coal stove. Happy to see that Aaron had the same type, Janelle went to work making biscuits, bacon, and eggs.
She was finishing up when she heard him on the stairs. Smiling proudly at her accomplishment, she put the pan on one of the unused burners and walked to the dining room with her basket of golden-brown biscuits, crock of butter, and honey.
“Good morning. I made breakfast.” She beamed as she set her basket down proudly, returning to the kitchen to get their plates. Moving to his side, she dished up his eggs, smiling as she felt his hand slide around her hip and come to rest on her bottom. Surprisingly, she was not very sore this morning. Upon rising, she had checked her well-spanked tush in the bathroom mirror and was shocked to find it only a little pink, but without a single bruise or welt in sight.
“This looks wonderful, honey.” He patted her gently and looked up into her grinning face. Her happiness was contagious, and he smiled in return. “You look happier than a tick on a dog. Domesticity suits you.”
She laughed at that very western expression, as she took her seat beside him. He said the most hilarious things sometimes. “I’ve always liked to cook breakfast and bake. Both are fairly easy, but when it comes to things like fried chicken, roasts, or other meats, I’m an abject failure.”
“I’ll just have to fill up on your flaky, golden-brown biscuits. Don’t tell her, but these look as good as Ma’s.”
“That is a compliment for sure, but you better taste one first. Letty’s an excellent cook. The stove is tricky, but I’ve watched her often enough, and yours is just like hers.”
“Ours.”
“Pardon?”
“Our stove is just like hers. Everything I have is yours now, Janelle. You need to get used to that fact and start referring to things as ours, not just mine.” His look was serious as he took a bite of a biscuit dripping with butter and honey. His expression quickly turned into one of delight, and he closed his eyes, savoring his first bite of biscuit. “Mm-mm, honey, you make a right smart biscuit. They just melt in my mouth.”
She beamed at him, giggling at his funny expression. He reminded her of Andy Griffith with his silly idioms and funny sayings. She watched him enjoying his breakfast for a moment, before suddenly standing up. “I almost forgot… I made coffee.” Rushing into the kitchen, she returned shortly with a cast-iron coffee pot and a small pitcher of cream. She poured, and Aaron eyed it suspiciously as it came out thicker and darker than molasses, but he tried it after liberally lacing it with cream. His first sip was his last, and he grimaced, trying to hide it behind his napkin.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
He coughed and cleared his throat. “It’s a bit on the strong side.”
Eying her cup of milk, he croaked. “Not a coffee drinker, honey?”
“No, I never acquired a taste for it. Even when working the night shift at the hospital, I couldn’t choke it down.” Noticing he had hardly touched it, she frowned. “Is it that bad?”
“Well… How many scoops did you use?”
“I’m not sure. I just filled it to the line on the little basket thingy inside.”
“I usually use a tablespoon per cup.”
“Oh…” Janelle pulled a face, knowing she had probably put in at least twice as much.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll grab a cup at the jail. We always keep a pot on the stove.”
Janelle was disappointed. She wanted her first attempt at breakfast to be perfect.
It must have shown because he reached for her hand and squeezed it saying, “Don’t fret, sweet pea. Everything else was perfect. I’ll show you how to fix it the way I like it next time. Or I’ll just make it myself.” Scooping up the last bite of eggs, he wiped his mouth and moved around to her side, where he grabbed her milk and took a big swig to wash everything down.
“Walk me to the door, honey. I’ve got to run.” Given little choice since he tugged her from her seat by the hand, she followed along and kissed him eagerly as he prepared to leave. When his lips played along hers, she sighed and melted against him, loving the feel of his big hands on her body even when they cupped her bottom and squeezed gently. “You seem to have survived last night’s chastisement, wife.”
“Well, yes. I’m none the worse for wear, I suppose.”
“Now that is an appropriate expression.”
Janelle felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and his teasing grin told
her she was undoubtedly a flaming red. Being fair skinned, her face easily gave away her feelings.
“Next time, wake me. I’ll want to inspect you for damage the next day myself.”
Her mind skipped over the ‘next time’ and went right to the other outrageous remark. “You can’t be serious? You expect me to bare my butt for inspection? That is too much, Aaron.”
“How am I to know how much you can take otherwise? Are there any bruises this morning?”
“That’s not really proper conversation, is it, husband?”
“Answer the question, darlin’ or I’ll just flip up your skirts and see for myself.”
Scowling at him, she relented. “No bruises that I could see.”
“Good, that means you’ll be right as rain by this evening. Forty swats with a brush is a good walloping, Janelle, but you took it well.” Brushing his nose along her hair, he eased it back and tugged on her earlobe. “I said you could trust me, didn’t I? Let’s not repeat it though.”
She didn’t want to, that’s for sure. Bothered by his statement that he liked to check for damage, she got the sense he had done this before. “How do you know so much about this? You haven’t been married before, have you?”
Moving his lips along her jaw, he pressed warm kisses against the sensitive skin, sliding down to her throat as she arched her head, giving him free access. He buried his face there for a moment before lifting his head. “I’m not a wet behind the ears teenager. Like you, I have a past. But we won’t be getting into the lurid details.”
Marshal's Law Page 14