by Lee Savino
“Couldn’t he live nearby?”
“No.” He finished his meal and stood, dropping his plate into an empty pail with a clatter.
When he left, she paced, wishing she’d never spoken. Still, she would enjoy having a friend living nearby. Determining to stay up and apologize, she settled in to wait up for him, trying to read by the low firelight.
After a few tiresome minutes, she went and checked the lamp. It still had a little oil; he must have gotten more from the store, and surely it wouldn’t hurt to use a bit of it. Surely, he’d understand her desire to stay awake for him.
With a secret grin, she pulled the trunk over and set the lamp on it, then curled up in the big bed with all the pillows behind her. She felt like a fine lady, reading with the words dancing in the lamplight.
The next thing she knew, Miles was shaking her awake.
“Carrie.”
“What?” she muttered, burrowing into the pillow, wishing he’d let her sleep.
“Get up, Carrie.” His voice sounded almost angry, and she quickly came awake. “What were you thinking, putting the lamp on and getting into bed?”
“I was waiting for you.” She looked around the cabin, filled with the lamp’s dimming light, and realized her mistake. “I must have fallen asleep reading.”
“I told you the lamp oil was precious and we needed to make it last.”
Gulping down her upset, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.
He shook his head. “You could have burned the house down with you in it.”
“I was only waiting up for you,” she said. “If you had come home at a proper time…” She trailed off when she saw the stern set of his face.
“So then this is my fault?” Miles seemed to tower over her, casting a huge shadow.
“No, sir,” she said.
“I asked you to use the lamp sparingly, Carrie. It’s a luxury we must wait on until I sell a horse or a steer. And even if we had oil enough for the winter, it’s dangerous to leave the lamp lit and fall asleep. Do you understand how easily it could fall and catch fire?”
“Yes, sir,” she said as meek as she could be.
“I’m going to make sure you understand.” He took a step back and started to undo his strap. “Turn around and lean over the bed.”
“No, please,” she begged. “I’ll never do it again.”
“Carrie,” he caught her chin, “do you trust me?”
Her eyes slid to the strap he already had in his other hand, its mean black length doubled and twice as scary.
But she knew he’d never hurt her beyond what she could endure. “I trust you.”
“Good. Then submit to your punishment, like a good girl.” He let go of her chin. “Up and over the bed.”
With a mewling little cry, she obeyed. “Please, sir, I won’t do it again.”
He caressed her bottom through the nightgown, starting with a few soft strikes to warm her up. “I know you won’t, Carrie. You’ll get twenty with my hand and the rest with my strap.”
“No,” she groaned.
After a few more warming slaps, he pulled her nightgown up to her waist. She heard the telltale swish of his strap as he shook it out and lay it on the bed beside her. She didn’t know what was worse, the sharp smacks he gave her with his hand, echoing around the cabin, or the sight of the strap waiting to strap her bottom next.
When her cheeks were hot and throbbing, Miles took up the lean, black strip of leather. Carrie pressed her face into the blankets and tensed.
“This punishment is meant to teach you never to be so careless again. If you ever leave the lamp on again while sleeping, I’ll give you ten times as many to make sure you learn.”
He stood to the side; she felt her knees weaken in anticipation. But nothing could prepare her for the harsh slap of the leather against her bare skin.
“Oh, no,” she screamed out. The second lash came down hard after the first, and she started thrashing and brought her hands around to cover her bottom.
“Carrie,” Miles said, then repeated her name when she continued crying. “Put your hands back by your head.”
“Miles, please. Please,” she sobbed. Slowly, she took her hands away and forced them up.
“Next time you do that, I’ll add to the total.”
Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the bed cover, but when the next strike came her arms didn’t move.
“Good girl. You must learn this lesson tonight. What you did was far too dangerous.”
“I know, I know,” she wailed. “I’ll never do it again as long as I live.”
“Good.” He readied himself, then let the strap fall again.
Carrie felt it bite her skin, stinging like mad. She focused on breathing through the pain. She could do this.
Then the strap hit a spot it had already marked, and she couldn’t help it; her arms jerked down and covered her bottom before she knew what she was doing.
“I’ll help you,” Miles said, and gathered her wrists, holding them in the small of her back. She pulled a little to test them, and her arms didn’t budge.
“Thank you,” she said, voice muffled in the blankets. As the strap rained fire down onto her heated flesh, she wriggled her hips and yowled into the bed, but Miles’ grip held fast.
“Carrie.”
She lifted her head, realizing her husband was calling her.
“Yes, sir?”
“Repeat after me: I will never sleep with the lamp on again.”
She obeyed, her voice quavering. Miles let the strap punctuate the end of the sentence, then asked her to repeat it.
She kicked a little at the last blow, but her hands stayed in his wrists.
“It’s over now.”
Carrie let her body sag into the bed, sobbing and wondering if she could ever move again. Then her husband lifted her, helping her onto the bed and setting her on her side. He gave her water, and stroked back her hair while she drank.
“Come here, dear one.” He gathered her into his lap. She leaned on her side to keep her poor bottom from touching anything.
He kissed her temple. “You know I must punish you so you don’t put yourself in danger again.”
She promised him over and over she’d never do it again.
“I know, I know,” he soothed, and rocked her.
Clinging to his shirt, she couldn’t help but feel safe in his arms. True, her bottom was screaming in pain, but she felt she’d deserved her punishment and weathered it.
“Do you forgive me, Miles?” she asked.
“I do, sweet wife.”
“Good. I want to be the best wife I can be for you.”
He kissed her head again, his lips lingering. “I know. You already are.”
She felt confused by his words, and wanted to ask him, but he laid her down in the bed and climbed in after her. Tucked under his chin, with his arm at her waist, she fell asleep.
For the next few days Miles worked long hours in the fields, preparing to move the cattle and horses to their winter pastures. Carrie took over as many duties at the homestead, talking Miles into letting her feed the horses. He made a makeshift wagon she could pull with the grain and hay bales. Her dresses loosened as her body grew lean and strong.
One afternoon, she fed Belle and noticed the mare was chuffing and pawing the ground. Worried, Carrie watched Belle pace, stopping to flick her tail and kick at her abdomen. A milky substance oozed from Belle’s teats.
She was about to foal. Picking up her skirts, Carrie raced west, over the stream and through the thin copse, arriving at the western pasture just in time to remember that Miles had taken them all to the winter pasture. He could be a few miles away with the cattle, riding Monty. On foot, she’d never reach him in time.
A rough whinny broke her thoughts, and she whirled to see Lightning. The big stallion still had a pen to himself while Miles worked on training him.
She approached the white horse’s pe
n slowly. When the stallion raised his head and sniffed at her, she held out her hands like Miles. “Steady boy, I just need a ride.” The horse nibbled at her fingers, looking for treats, and she bent and pulled up some clover for him. As she fed him, she stroked his beautiful nose. He seemed much calmer now.
“All right, boy,” she said, opening the gate. The horses’ ears twitched forward as she called to him. “Come on. We need to hurry and tell Miles, Belle is about to drop her foal.”
The horse took a step forward, and she beckoned eagerly. Then, with a cry, the stallion rushed the gate. Carrie stepped aside just in time for the big body to avoid knocking her down. She fell down in the muddy grass, arms over her head as Lightning kicked out his back legs.
“Oh no.” She scrambled to her feet as the horse went galloping towards the next hill to the west, and the open plain beyond. She ran after him, lungs burning, but unwilling to let him crest the hill, and drop out of sight.
Just as Lightning reached the top of the hill, a rider appeared from the right, riding hard. Miles leaned over Monty’s sleek body, moving as if he and the horse were one. The bay and stallion disappeared over the crest.
Carrie swallowed her shout and followed. She ran up the hill, just in time to see Miles close the distance to the white horse streaking across the plain. Monty drew abreast with the stallion, and quicker than she could guess, Miles sat up straight in the stirrups, arm waving a lasso high over his head. The rope flew from his hands and settled around Lightning’s neck, and Monty immediately shied to the right, pulling the stallion off his course. Within seconds, horse and rider had slowed to a trot, and Lighting turned obediently back to his pen.
Watching on the hill, Carrie felt like cheering before she remembered what she had done. She turned and ran back to the pen herself, arriving just before the horses.
Miles looked furious, and she gulped, wondering what awful price she’d pay for disobedience.
“Stand back from the gate,” he said in a voice like thunder, and she jumped back with a squeak.
She waited, staring at the ground until two pointed boot toes came into her sights. Miles took her arm and led her over to the stump she remembered from earlier.
“Bend over, hands on the stump.”
She hesitated.
“Now, Carrie.” His voice cracked above her.
She hastened to lean down, resting her palms on the stump.
“Keep your legs straight.”
She did so, locking her knees. In a few seconds her skirts were up and drawers down, and she could feel her bottom waving in the bare air. Her face heated with embarrassment.
“Now, do you remember what I told you about Lightning last time you were here?” His voice seemed deeper with disappointment.
“Yes, sir. You said never to go near his pen without you.”
“I’m glad you remember. So what do I need to do to make sure you heed my words?” His hand started kneading her bottom, readying it.
“Punish me?” She could barely squeak out the words.
“Yes. It’s my responsibility as your husband to make sure you mind. Hold still now.” He took his hand away.
Shifting from foot to foot, she listened to him ready himself. The waiting was the worst part; it made her want to scream.
“I’ll tell you again, Carrie, never go near this pen or any untrained horse without my permission. Maybe this time you’ll hear.”
Before she had time to tense, she felt the slap of leather against her cheeks. Pain sliced across her buttocks and she gasped, lurching forward and almost falling.
Looking back through her fall of hair, she saw the strap hanging from Miles’ hand.
“Up,” he ordered, tapping the underside of her bottom to indicate that she should raise it. “Get into position.”
“Please, Miles, it hurts,” she gasped.
“It’s supposed to. If you won’t heed my words the first time, I’ll make sure you remember them.”
Shaking, she stretched her legs out. Even her punishment from a few days ago hadn’t prepared her for this belting. Last time he must have been holding back.
“Push your bottom up higher.”
Whimpering, she did, until her throbbing cheeks presented a perfect target.
The strap cracked down again and her shriek echoed across the hills. At full force, the strap blazed a trail of pain across her skin and had her wobbling.
“Position.” His voice held no compassion, and he used his palm to smack her bottom when she didn’t move fast enough. “You will never disobey me in this again.” The strap swung in time to the words.
Carrie tried to keep count of his swings, but she could barely remember to hold position. Now all the strikes fell on her hot bottom, another and another until her knees buckled again.
She fell on all fours and scurried around, grasping him around the legs. “Please, please, no more. I can’t take it.”
“Carrie.”
She lay her head against his legs, gripping him harder.
“Look at me.”
To her surprise, she felt him stroke her hair gently, and she risked a look.
“I don’t want to strap you,” he said. “But you could’ve broken your neck. What possessed you to not only come near his pen, but unlatch the gate?”
“I’m sorry. I never would’ve done it if I hadn’t been worried for Belle. She’s acting strangely, and I thought she might be ready to foal.”
A pause, and then she lost her grip on his legs as he went down on one knee in front of her. “You wanted to ride to tell me?”
She nodded. “There was no other horse.”
“And what about my warnings to you? Lightning is still untrained. Even if you could’ve ridden him, what if he had bucked you off?”
“I thought I had to risk it. To help Belle.”
“Look at me.” He shook her gently. “You are worth more than any horse.”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I thought you would want to know.”
“Not at the risk of your life.” He pulled her close, drying her tears on his shirt. “We’ll ride back now to see to Belle. Your punishment isn’t over, though.”
He pulled her drawers up and helped her onto Monty. She sat miserably behind him, every jolt and jump on the ride set the stripes on her bottom blazing.
When they reached the homestead, they both went to Belle.
“I understand why you were worried,” he said. “She looks like she’ll foal soon. But, Carrie,” he caught her chin, all serious, “you are never, ever to put your life in danger, not even to save a whole herd. I would rather lose everything I own than lose you.”
She looked up into his intense gaze, unable to speak.
“All right, off with you. Up to the cabin, undress and stand in the corner, nose to the wall. I’ll be in as soon as I see to Belle.”
“But—”
“Go,” he ordered, no tenderness in him now.
“Yes, sir,” she said in a small voice, and picked up her skirts to run up the hill.
It felt like an hour with her nose to the wall before she heard Miles’ boots thump on the porch. Straightening, she held her breath, keeping her eyes fixed on the corner as she heard him bring a chair to the center of the room.
“Carrie, come here.”
She went to stand in front him, naked and head bowed.
“Belle is fine. But even if she hadn’t been, I still would’ve wanted you to obey me.”
Nodding, she folded her arms behind her back to keep them from touching her throbbing bum.
“Turn around.” His fingers traced the strap marks, making her shiver. “I know these marks hurt. They won’t last, though, and the lesson will.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.”
“I know you are. You understand why I must discipline you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Into position then.” He stood and guided her to lean over the chair. “Four more, with the strap.” He touched the leather to her back
side and she tensed. “I know you can do it, Carrie girl.”
She gripped the chair until she thought it would break, but made it through each strike. When it was done, she collapsed into the chair, leaning on her knees with her poor bottom in the air. Miles left her there a moment, then returned with a balm. She whimpered as he applied it to her bottom.
“Does it sting?”
“Yes, sir. But not as much as it used to.”
“Enough for you to learn your lesson?”
“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” Miles sat down, and drew her into his lap. “Never, never do that again.”
She stared into his eyes, shocked by the vulnerable fear in his voice.
“I won’t, Miles. I promise.”
“You’re too precious, my sweet.” He stroked back her hair and then secured her chin. “You do this again, and you get the whip. Do you understand?”
She nodded, too afraid to speak. For a moment he just held her, rocking a little. Her bottom throbbed in time with her heartbeat, but the burn was bearable. A sense of calm stole over her as she sat in her husband’s arms.
“Miles, do you like punishing me?”
“I don’t like causing you pain, but I like being the one to lead you.” He grinned. “Though I must say, the sight of your pink cheeks presented to me is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t be surprised if I turn you over my knee for a nice warm up before our love making.”
Carrie felt her face turned red as her bum. “Spankings can’t be nice.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, sir,” she said quickly.
He chuckled.
“Bed time. No dinner for you.”
She sighed. “Yes, sir.”
The next day, Carrie made sure she did all her chores standing. Her bottom still throbbed, although it no longer glowed; she used Miles’ shaving mirror to peek at it.
In addition to the lingering soreness, she spent the day facing a different trial. Her body ached for her husband. She didn’t understand how it could endure such punishment and still desire the one who meted it out, but as she completed her chores, she found herself turning with longing to the door, wishing he’d come home early and love her. There was a desire in her to please him, stronger than ever, and her ears tuned carefully to footsteps on the porch that would signal his homecoming.
