The Teacher and the Preacher

by Victoria Phelps

  “I’m going to take you now,” he whispered. In a single stroke, he entered and pushed to the farthest end of the place designed especially for him. Caroline whimpered. Her hips pushed against him with insistent need. He withdrew and plunged, withdrew and plunged.

  Sven pulled back and Caroline groaned. “Turn over, sweetheart.” He pulled her hips up and laid a gentle hand on her shoulders until her upper body lay on the bed and her beautiful pink bottom waved an invitation. He squeezed her buttocks and patted the flaming skin. He entered her and captured her hips in his hands. Holding her steady, he brought them both to shuddering completion.

  He fell to his side taking Caroline with him. She was snuggled into the curve of his body. He took one breast into his hand and sighed.

  “Sleep,” he ordered.

  She obeyed.

  Chapter 13

  Caroline

  Caroline had lost weight since the wedding. She was a scrawny bird. Her shoulder blades poked through her dress like fragile wings. Her legs and arms were sticks, twigs really. Sven begged her to eat. He even threatened to spank her if she didn’t consume the tiny portions he laid on her plate. She tried. Truly, she tried, but her throat clutched shut when she attempted to swallow and not a single morsel could pass. Sven would not spank her for this. She knew he hoped his half-hearted threat might work, but he also knew she was not being willfully disobedient. He was worried. Worried and sad.

  Caroline twisted her hands in her lap. Her fingers white claws that scratched at her skirt.

  She sat, as always, in the front pew on the left side of the church. The spot reserved for the reverend’s wife. Caroline did not look behind her, but she felt emptiness at her back. A room once full of life and breath was near vacant. For the second Sunday in a row, the town had turned its back. The few people present shifted restlessly in their seats. The service should have begun, but their minister sat in a straight back chair staring at the floor between his boots.

  Long minutes passed before he rose and surveyed the little group.

  “Thank you for joining us today,” he began. “I’m pleased to announce that Granny Wilkins has recovered.” He gestured at an older woman in a plain brown calico dress. “Welcome back,” he said.

  Granny Wilkins rewarded him with a near toothless grin.

  “Let us pray,” Sven said. “Lord, thank you for community. Thank you for the goodness of friendship and the joy of love. Amen.”

  The congregation lifted their heads and glanced right and left. That prayer was mighty short and a little odd.

  Sven stepped to the front of the platform. “I had a different verse in mind for today, but in my meditation, another came to me. It is Jeremiah 29:11. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

  Caroline slipped to the front of the bench. Her bottom poised on the edge. Her emotions raced from joy to despair and made a few stops in between as she observed her husband. Poor Sven. He’d lost weight, too, she realized. Being so big, it took longer before the change was noticeable. His beautiful pale eyes were bruised. She scolded herself. What kind of a wife was she? A wife, especially a minister’s wife, should be a helpmeet. Why, she was nothing but a burden to the sad, sorrowful man. She held her breath. The prickling in her stomach warned her of, well, she didn’t rightly know. Her husband rose and moved to the center of the platform. His eyes scanned the half-empty church and hovered for long moments on her face. Caroline flinched at the sound of his scratchy, rough voice.

  “I have disappointed this community that I love so much. I never intended to deceive or lead through misapprehension, but by withholding facts from my past, I did. I convinced myself that it did not matter, but it did.” A sharp inhale of surprise swept the church.

  “My brother put matters to rights. He informed the town of facts you had every right to know. I was not involved in the actual robbery of the bank, but I was wrong not to intervene. I only thought of my brother and not the injury to the community who trusted their bank. Far worse, I injured my wife whom I love more than the breath in my body. I left her alone to face the indignation and condemnation of the little town where we grew up. Left her alone to face humiliation and scorn for anticipating our vows. We have been led back to one another and blessed with a son. I will forever weep for the travail that Caroline endured alone, but I will go down on my knees every day and thank the Lord for bringing Caroline and Micah back into my life.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I am resigning as your minister, but nothing need change between us. I am here. I am available. I will still rejoice in your triumphs and help shoulder your burdens. I always have time, and time to spare, for friends. I am here.” The congregation sat motionless, suspended in mutual unhappiness. “I am here,” he repeated.

  Caroline met his wan smile with one of her own.

  “The Lord promises plans to prosper and not hurt. Plans of hope and plans for a bright future. I trust in those plans.” He ran a weary hand across his face. “Caroline and I will decide, with God’s help, on our next steps. Steps made together and with faith. Thank you.”

  He stepped down and offered her his hand. Caroline seized it like a swimmer going under for the third time, and they walked down the aisle and out the door. Loki rose from his favorite spot at the back and followed. The congregation watched them leave with open mouths and not a few tears.

  “Are you sure, Sven?” Caroline enquired. She reached down and ran her fingers through Loki’s rough fur.

  “I am,” he replied. “I feel like a burden has been lifted.” He draped an arm over her small shoulders and pulled her close to his side. “Because of me this church has become a house divided. It’s the best thing, for us and for the congregation.” He brushed a kiss across her temple. “I’d like Micah to stay with me a few days every week when school starts up again. He enjoys playing with Katie, so I wouldn’t deny him the pleasure completely, but I have time to make up with the little man.” She squeezed his hand in agreement.

  “I’ve got some carpentry jobs lined up. I’ll check with the customers to be sure the items are still wanted. We should talk about those plans I mentioned. We can stay; we can go. But whatever path we choose, we walk it together.” He turned her to face him and held her thin shoulders in his hands. “Let’s get Micah. I’d like to take my wife and son out to dinner at the café.” He dropped a wink and a smile that throbbed all the way to her toes before settling heavy and hot in her abdomen.

  “Why Mr. Nielson, that is an excellent idea,” Caroline acknowledged. She looped her hand through his elbow and held on tight.

  When they emerged with Micah bundled against the cold, Caroline tipped her head at the man across the dusty street.

  “I see him, sweetheart,” Sven said.

  Lars slouched against the front of the Mercantile. The store was closed. The owner and his wife being among the townspeople who refused Sven’s ministry and no longer hosted the Fellowship Hour after the service. Fellowship Hour, she snorted. Their recipe for fellowship was mighty skimpy.

  Lars’ hat was pulled low over his eyes. His legs were crossed at the ankle. Caroline chuckled. You’d think it was a summer day, and he was passing a pleasant afternoon instead of bone chilling January. Sven gave a nod, and she couldn’t be completely sure, but she was fairly certain his hat took a little dip.

  Caroline smiled at her husband. She was hungry. Why, she planned to order fried chicken with all the fixings. If she had even a speck of room left, she’d have cherry pie. The café made a wonderful cherry pie. She was a little jealous if truth be told. Her pie was never as flakey or fine. Although Sven, bless his heart, ate with gusto and declared it the best he’d ever had.

  Caroline guided the last bit of pie to her mouth, swallowed and laid her fork on the empty plate. She rubbed her stomach. “I am so full,” she groaned.

  “I loved seeing you eat, sweetheart,” Sven said as he pushed his chair from the t
able. “I’ve been worried.”

  “Micah needs his nap.” She scooped the boy into her arms. “Let’s go home.”

  That morning they had been pensive, nervous, and uncomfortable with each other and with the town. Uncertain of the route their lives should follow. The air had cleared. Caroline took deep, unfettered breaths. She lowered the child into his crib. When she turned, she ran into a wall of muscle. Raising her head, she met her husband’s hot gaze.

  “Sven?” His name a question.

  His answer was a kiss, one hand cupping her bottom while the other pulled her pelvis into the hardness of his need.

  “I want you, sweetheart,” he whispered into her ear.

  Caroline nodded and snuggled her head into her husband’s chest. His hands went to work at the buttons on the back of her dress. Before they were through the door to their own room, he’d pulled it over her head, tossed it away, and went to work at the laces of her stays.

  “Why do you wear these? You’re so small. Do you really need them?” He frowned at the red marks left on her pale skin.

  Caroline cast a baleful glance at her bosom. She had hoped for more. She shrugged her shoulders. “Are they enough? I heard men like big breasts, but…”

  “You’re perfect. Don’t wear them again. They hurt you, and I won’t allow it.” He lowered his head to her rose-brown nipple and pulled it into his mouth. Her back arched and offered her breast for his pleasure. His mouth never left its work while he placed her on the bed.

  Sven took both her hands in one of his and lifted them over her head. “Leave them here,” he ordered. Caroline sighed. She loved his dominance, his masculinity. She placed her body in his hands with joy and greedy anticipation.

  She lowered her right hand and slid it down his back to the curve of his buttocks.

  Sven lifted his head and regarded her with eyebrows furrowed. “Caroline?” he grumbled before returning her hand above her head. “Arms up. Don’t make me say it again.”

  Caroline quivered. Sven returned his attention to her breasts before kissing his way down her stomach. He separated her thighs and kissed the sensitive skin at the inside of each leg. Caroline struggled. Every sinew in her body urged her to plunge her hands into his hair and hold on tight, but she had her instructions.

  A long finger stroked her front to back before snaking its way into her body. Her breath froze in her throat, and her hips thrust toward the ceiling. Sven emitted an approving growl before adding a second finger to his exploration.

  She climbed higher, trembling, reaching toward the top. Her head thrashed from side to side. Her arm flew down and seized his buttock, pulling him, prodding him to enter.

  His hands were warm on her hips as he flipped her body. The spank that followed was delicious heat. She lifted her hips towards him. Invitation delivered.

  “Caroline, hands up,” Sven repeated his command before delivering two, three, four more spanks to her wriggling bottom.

  She obeyed. The next spanks were light, playful, full of sting but not bite.

  Her hips left the bed as Sven pulled her bottom high and spread her legs with his massive thigh. He nudged her open and pressed into her waiting cave with one small thrust, withdrew, ventured deeper, withdrew, plunged hard and deep, harder, deeper, faster, longer.

  Caroline exploded, quivered, found release.

  Carried in Sven’s arms as he fell to the bed, they lay glistening with sweat, breathless, on a Sunday afternoon following church. Caroline giggled.

  “What?” Her husband turned on his side and pulled her closer to his sheltering frame.

  “At home we read quietly on Sunday afternoons. No playing allowed.” She stroked the soft hair that covered his chest. “This is much more fun.”

  “If the Lord didn’t want a husband and wife to enjoy their love, he wouldn’t have made it so damn marvelous.” He nuzzled her neck and placed a series of tiny kisses behind her ear.

  “Sven,” she scolded, “you swore.”

  “Sometimes nothing else will do,” he stated. “But don’t you try it,” he warned. “Now, wife, let’s take a nap before our little man wakes up.”

  Caroline’s eyes drifted shut. She was already there.

  Chapter 14

  Sven

  Sven slowly surveyed his wife’s sweet bottom. He was sorry to bring her pain, but, damn, if he didn’t love the view. Caroline turned her head with an unspoken question in her eyes. He shook his head. “No, we’re not done.” He gave her buttocks a series of swift spanks before kneading the inflamed skin.

  “Now, sweetheart, what were you thinking? I told you before not to go to the MacGregor farm without me. The man is a loose cannon.” Anger vibrated through his voice like a swirling wind.

  “I thought since he had become our friend – you know, sending his boys to school and coming to church – I thought, I thought your opinion would have changed,” she said as she peeked at him over her shoulder.

  “But you didn’t ask me.”

  Caroline shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Did he shoot that damn rifle at you?” he growled.

  She hesitated.

  “Caroline?” The question was punctuated with a hearty smack.

  “Yes.” She gave her head a frantic shake. “Over my head. He didn’t shoot at me, and when the boys begged him to put the rifle down, he did.”

  Sven closed his eyes. The grinding of his teeth echoed in his head. “The man shot at my wife. Caroline, I can’t lose you. MacGregor is a lonely, angry man. He drinks. That old rifle could go off at any time and in any direction.” He swallowed hard. “Please, please, you must obey me when it involves your safety. I can’t quite figure it. Why did you go to the MacGregor farm when you know I forbid it?”

  His wife shifted over his thighs, and he moaned. He wanted her something fierce, but the punishment wasn’t at an end.

  “You were hard at work on the table you’re making for the Kemps. I didn’t want to disturb you.” She tried that excuse on for size. It didn’t fit.

  “You and Micah always come first. You know that. If it was that important, I would drive you there myself. You know that,” he repeated his chorus.

  He felt his wife draw a long breath. “I get tired of obeying you. I like to make some decisions on my own, and I decided to pay a visit to two of my favorite students.” Her sassy response irritated like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  Sven laid half dozen crisp swats to her crimson backside. “I do not tell you who to befriend, what to buy, what to cook, what opinions to hold or how to care for our son. You make decisions all the live long day.” He added another round of spanks for good measure. “But when it comes to the safety of our family, I make the decisions. That was true in Minnesota, it’s true today, and it will be true tomorrow and the day after that until they carry me feet first out the door. The sooner you understand that, the better it will be for your behind.”

  Caroline wailed, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  “You’d best not, sweetheart.” He reached behind him to fetch the wooden spoon he had laid out for this final purpose. “This is the second time I’ve had to spank you for going alone to the MacGregor place. I told you before that if I had to punish you twice for the same thing, I would use more than my hand.” He placed the spoon in Caroline’s line of vision.

  “No, Sven, please,” his wife begged. His heart clenched in his chest, but he was a man of his word. “Give me your hands.” He held them behind her back. “I don’t want to strike your hands. Only your bottom.”

  He tapped her right cheek twice before delivering a sharp crack with the spoon. He repeated the pattern, tap-tap-spank, tap-tap-spank, tap-tap-spank. His wife squirmed and twisted in an unsuccessful escape attempt. He waited for her to settle before completing his task, lifting her into his arms, and snuggling her against his chest.

  When her crying ceased, he carried her to their room and tucked her into bed. “Rest, sweetheart.” He tiptoed to the door
and turned back for a last look. She was already asleep. He grinned before closing the door with a careful click.

  He fed Micah dinner and bathed him in a large pan in the kitchen. Loki fetched a ball that Micah threw with crazy abandon until Sven put him to bed, and Caroline slept through it all. When he climbed into bed, he pulled her close to his body but was careful not to wake her. Sven wanted her to rest. She must have been powerful tired.

  The next morning Sven patted Caroline’s back and smoothed the black hair from her face. “Sweetheart, wake up.” He kissed her neck, her forehead, behind her ear.

  “What time is it?” she mumbled.

  “Seven in the morning,” he chuckled. “You slept through dinner and all through the night.”

  “Oh, Micah.” Caroline lurched to a sit.

  “Micah’s fine. We had dinner, and he went to bed. I let Loki sleep in his room, which he loved. I hope I didn’t start a bad habit, but what could it hurt? Having a dog for a friend is mighty fine.” His hand floated down her back and came to rest on her bottom. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped. “I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Spanking is a private matter and stays in our home. Anyway, between you and me there need not be embarrassment. I’m your husband,” he declared. “I’ve seen wives spanked in public,” he mused. “Maybe it was a matter that just couldn’t wait.” He gave her bottom a gentle swat. “Time to get up. It’s Sunday, and we need to get ready for church.”

  “What? There’s no minister,” Caroline protested.

  “True. But even if no one joins us, we need to spend an hour giving thanks.” He rose from the bed. “I’ll get Micah dressed if you rustle up some breakfast.”

  Thirty minutes later, Sven hustled his family out the door. They were running late, but, without a minister, he didn’t figure it would matter. They would start getting ready earlier next week. Having a young one made keeping to a schedule a particular problem.