Rocky Mountain Discipline

by Lee Savino

  Once she was in position, he cupped her buttocks, squeezing them.

  “I know what you need, Carrie,” Miles said. His hand started tapping her backside, warming her skin before the real blows would fall. He spent longer than he ever had before preparing her bottom, and she whimpered, realizing the long spanking that would be coming.

  Sure enough, when his hand started to fall in a hard rhythm, the pain blossomed quickly. She kicked her feet a little in protest, but pressed her mouth shut.

  “I expect you to mind my words.” Miles spoke over the rhythmic smacks of his palm. After a minute, he drew her drawers down, palming cheeks. Carrie knew her skin must be cherry red; it felt hot, like burning coals all over the surface. And then the spanking continued on her bare skin.

  “You will be respectful, and follow my lead. If you are upset or have a request, you will come to me and ask me with the deference I deserve as your husband. I care for you, Carrie, and I have no wish to see you struggle.”

  A small whimper escaped but she screwed her face up, tensing with each blow. Miles peppered her bottom with smacks on each cheek, high and low, with a few falling almost on her thighs. She wriggled, but there was no escaping the terrible tyranny of his large hand.

  Then he stopped and kneaded her bottom hard again, and she realized her spanking was going to be the longest she’d ever endured.

  She turned her head to glare at him. It’s not fair. Her look told him.

  Miles sighed again. His hand smacked down and she yelped, realizing he’d still been holding back. How could there be so much strength in his arm?

  The new spanking rained down hard, and her ears filled with her own cries. She told him to stop, she begged him, then let her head hang down and moaned.

  When he stopped again, he guided her back up to stand before him. She was grateful he didn’t have her sit down; her bottom was so hot she was sure it would catch the blanket on fire.

  “Anything you’d like to apologize for?”

  “I’m sorry for talking back to you,” she said immediately.

  “When?”

  “At the dinner table.”

  He said nothing and she wracked her memories. “And for being disrespectful to you. I’ve been surly all day.”

  “All week, actually,” Miles said. “Back over the trunk now.”

  Her mouth fell open. “But I said I was sorry.”

  “Are you going to continue to disobey me?”

  Grimacing, she draped herself over the trunk. Miles walked away and she couldn’t help shifting her weight from foot to foot. When he returned, she felt the paddle touch her backside.

  “No, Miles, please.”

  “Hush. I want you to feel this now.”

  She shifted from foot to foot and he laid a warm hand on her backside, shushing her. “Be still, Carrie.”

  She let her head sag, her body with it. Nothing could stop her punishment now. This man always took care of her, she reminded herself. He was careful and kind, even with animals. And he told her she was precious to him.

  The first smack landed on her flesh and all thoughts of his kindness flew from her head. The paddle radiated pain out into her body with bruising force. She would have yelled out, but he laid a few more down before she caught her breath.

  “It hurts,” she gasped.

  “It’s supposed to.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, but she hadn’t let them fall.

  “Are you truly sorry for your behavior tonight?”

  She nodded, afraid if she spoke, tears would fall.

  Miles loomed over her, peering at her in the dim light. “Yes?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m truly sorry,” she said in faltering tones.

  He let her up but she didn’t move. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t let them out.

  “Hang on,” her soon to be husband said, and took her arm, guiding her over to the bed. He sat and before she knew it, she was across his knee, hanging on for dear life as he palmed her heated flesh again. “Submit to me, Carrie. You can let go,” he told her, and laid three more firm, heavy smacks on her throbbing flesh.

  Her sobs broke from her then, and she let her head hang down, the tears rushing like a waterfall onto the floor. She cried for everything: her lost home, this rough place she now lived, beautiful and deadly, frightening, this stern man with gentle hands she’d committed to.

  “There now,” Miles soothed. “Let it all out.” When her sobbing died down to hiccups, he righted her and held her as she gingerly sat on his lap.

  “You did well,” he said, stroking her wet hair from her face. “You please me.”

  She felt a rush of happiness at his words.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, and then heaved a deep sigh. Her tears were all wrung out; she could speak again. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “There’s my sweet girl.” He kissed her on the nose and went to get her water. He was halfway across the room before she realized she’d thanked him for disciplining her.

  He brought her water and held it to her lips, a little crinkle around his eyes.

  “Lie on your belly,” he told her and she obeyed with a sigh.

  He massaged her neck, shoulders and arms while she let herself sink into the bed. Her bottom still ached, but when Miles caressed it, she felt something shift deep within her and she moaned. He let his hands roam down her body until he cupped her between her legs. “This is mine,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh, it’s over. You’re forgiven.”

  He rolled her onto her back, and she pressed her feet into the bed, lifting her bottom off the bed. Slowly he coaxed her down, one hand stroking her sensitive core, the other palming her bottom until she rested completely on the bed. The ache seemed to radiate through her whole body, the pain transforming into something else entirely. Miles studied her face, and took his fingers away. She whimpered at the loss.

  “Touch yourself,” he whispered.

  Her eyes widened, but she couldn’t stop her fingers from slipping between her legs and moving shyly. She started to turn her head away and close her eyes so she could focus on the sensation.

  “Look at me.”

  Feeling vulnerable to the core, she did as he said and met his tawny eyes. As their gaze locked, heat came over her and she teetered on the precipice.

  “Stop,” he said and pulled her hand away when she didn’t hear at first. He kissed her wet fingers, sucking on them while she watched with heavy eyes.

  His hand went back between her legs. “I want to be the one who gives you pleasure. Will you trust me?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “Good girl,” he said. He rubbed his palm against her until she felt herself quicken, then he pulled away again, only to move down further and put his face between her legs.

  Her blissful haze left her. “What are you doing?”

  “My duty to you, as husband.” He grinned and then lowered his head. His tongue licked and sucked up and down her folds until she gasped. Her hands grabbed his head, tightening, until he stopped licking and caught them at the wrists. She moved her hands under her, keeping her legs wide open in hopes he would continue.

  He kissed her lightly and his tongue did a lazy circle. “Can you trust if I leave you wanting, that I’ll let you find release soon?”

  She nodded vigorously, and his tongue rewarded her again, fluttering against her until she stiffened against the onslaught. He added a finger, sliding it inside her and tugging.

  Carrie exploded. Her whole body trembled with shockwaves and she cried out, spiraling away.

  When she came to, her husband was kissing her, his beard wet and scratching her face. She grabbed his head again, returning the kiss with passionate gratitude.

  “Carrie.” He broke away from her lips, eyes wild. She wrapped her legs around him and let him surge inside her, crying out as he thrust in again and again, pounding her into the bed. Th
e whole time she gripped him tighter, urging him on with her moans.

  When he’d spent himself, she didn’t let go, but followed him as he flopped onto his back. She lay over him, naked body and tousled hair like a blanket over his broad chest.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

  “So are you,” she told him.

  His mouth curved up and she felt he didn’t believe her.

  “When I first saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

  “I thought you were afraid of me,” he said.

  “That too.”

  “I felt the same way when I saw you on Martin’s porch. The sun was setting and you were so lovely. I was jealous of any man who’d seen you in the full light.”

  “I was tired and dusty from the long trip.”

  “Quiet.” He grinned up at her, lightly swatting her bottom. “You didn’t seem that way to me.”

  Leaning forward, she gave him a kiss, then rested her cheek on his chest, sighing. His hand stroked lazy circles on her back.

  “I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. And you were mine.”

  Sunday she sat in Esther’s kitchen, catching her up on events since they last saw each other. Miles and the other men stood in the parlor, talking while they waited for the rest of the church attendants to arrive.

  “So how is marriage?”

  Carrie thought of what she could say to her friend and blushed.

  Esther nodded approvingly. “Good.”

  “Miles works so hard. I wish he had more help. Or that we could live closer in town.”

  “Do you think you’ll come Sundays?”

  “I don’t know. There’s so much work to be done, and I’m so little help.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Carrie.” Esther patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll find your rhythm soon. I heard you stocked up at Mr. Martin’s.”

  “Yes.” Carrie brightened at the thought of a full larder and new fabric to work with. “Although, when I walked in, he seemed so tongue-tied.”

  Esther laughed. “Yes, he’s always been shy around women. Don’t you think he needs a wife?”

  Carrie thought of the balding man at the altar, stuttering through his vows, and giggled. “Perhaps we could put an advertisement in the Denver post. ‘Successful shop owner seeks bride’.”

  “Denver? There are no women in Denver.”

  “Boston?” Carrie suggested.

  “No, Boston women have sharp tongues. If Martin had a Boston wife, she’d flay him alive,” Esther said.

  “What?” Carrie mock gasped. “My friend Susannah lives there. I will write to her and tell her what you said.”

  “Only if you include an advertisement for the paper,” Esther cackled. “Poor Mr. Martin.”

  “Ladies,” Reverend Shepherd spoke from behind. The two women jumped. “Shall we start the service with you? Or are you too busy trying to find a husband for ‘poor Mr. Martin’?”

  Carrie flushed, but Esther put her hands on her hips. “It’s not good for a man to be alone,” she said to her husband.

  “Yes, my dear, but do you remember what I told you about meddling in other’s business?”

  “Forgive me, husband.” Esther didn’t sound at all contrite. “I only wanted to help.”

  “By making fun of our friend and neighbor?” The Reverend raised an eyebrow at his wife, then looked at Carrie. “Would you tell the congregation the service will start in a few minutes? I need a moment alone with my wife.”

  Eyes wide, Carrie looked to her friend, but Esther didn’t seem cowed at all. The blonde grinned before walking back into the kitchen, her husband following and closing the door.

  Church started late, with a very flushed Esther sitting uncomfortably next to her husband. When Carrie caught her eye, though, Esther winked back, and during the prayer Carrie noticed the Reverend and his wife holding hands.

  “I think the Reverend disciplines his wife,” she told Miles as they rode home.

  Miles’ mouth turned up at the side. “What makes you say that?”

  A pause, then she confessed the whole story.

  “I see,” Miles said more sternly. “Were you planning on telling me that you were gossiping?”

  She squirmed in her seat. “No.”

  “Good girl, being honest.” Miles’ grin was back. “The Reverend pulled me aside and told me of the event, and that his wife had received her correction.”

  “Did he tell you to spank me?”

  “Reverend left it to me as the head of the household to relay punishment. And to tell you the truth, both the Shepherds told me of the rules and discipline that help their marriage, long before I wrote you the letter. I thought it might suit our way of life, and make adjusting to the marriage easier, so I took their example.”

  Cheeks ablaze, Carrie was too embarrassed to speak.

  “Did Esther never tell you of it?”

  “No.” Part of her was relieved she had a friend who could understand their way of life.

  “You could ask her next time. The Reverend tells me she receives correction every Sunday, just to settle up accounts for the week. A regular session just after church. He says it does wonders to maintain the peace.”

  Now Carrie whimpered, feeling a sympathetic twinge in her backside. “You wouldn’t…”

  “Do you feel as if you need regular correction?”

  “No, sir. I’ll be good.”

  He chuckled and patted her knee. “That’s my sweet girl.”

  The week came with shortening days and cooler nights. The Donovans worked hard to pull the harvest in, storing up corn and potatoes in a root cellar Miles dug out of the hill and covered with a makeshift door. They worked such long hours, they barely had time to kiss and cuddle in each other’s arms before falling into a deep sleep.

  One night Carrie woke to Miles shaking her.

  “Carrie?”

  “Miles? What?” She squinted through the darkness, but couldn’t see her husband’s face. Her heart was pounding, and she felt a familiar sick sensation, the emotional aftermath of a bad dream.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” But she touched her face, feeling her clammy skin. “Is something wrong?”

  She felt rather than saw her husband’s face move closer to hers. “You were calling out in your sleep.”

  “I was?” She pushed off the heavy blanket, her chest heaving for air.

  In the dark, Miles stroked the hair back from her sweaty face, then swung out of bed. A moment later, she saw a spark on the hearth as he started a fire. As Carrie sat up in bed, the air hit her damp skin, and she shivered. Her husband brought her a cup of water and tucked himself around her while she drank it.

  “It was a nightmare,” she told him. She could remember it, the dark man chasing her until she locked herself into the cabin, trying to hide while he looked in through the window. The horror she’d felt in the dream still lingered.

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  “No.” She leaned back into him, grateful for his warm weight. “It was horrible.” The firelight filled the room, proving that nothing horrible lurked in the corners. She felt safe and secure, alone with Miles.

  Miles gathered her hair and swept it aside so he could kiss her shoulder.

  “Come on,” he said, and slid off the bed again. She followed slowly, her body aching from a long day helping him plow, followed by some more pleasurable exertions with him just before bed.

  Miles pulled the heavy blanket around her, lifted her from the bed, and carried her outside.

  “What are you doing?” she mumbled. He went to the edge of the porch and sat down with her on his lap, then secured the blanket around her.

  Wrapped in her warm cocoon, she lifted her face to the cool night air.

  “Look up,” he whispered.

  The huge night sky, dark blue but for a milky white trail down the center, and thousands upon thousands
of stars. Tired as she was, Carrie stared in awe.

  “There’s so many,” she whispered.

  “I used to sit out here and wonder if my future wife was out there somewhere, looking up at the same sky I was.”

  She smiled in the darkness. The longer they sat, the more the tension flowed out her body. In the meadow, crickets sang a rickety chorus.

  “Look.” Miles pointed and they watched a shooting star trickle across the sky.

  Miles held her until her eyelids drooped and her body fully relaxed. He lifted her to go back inside, but before they reached the bed, she fell asleep in her husband’s arms.

  Carrie woke in the darkness, and reached for Miles, only to find an empty bed. She clutched at the pillow, feeling frozen through and through, a thought clawing her.

  He was gone; he’d found out about her, and left her alone.

  Then she realized a dark shape was moving around the door, and she sat straight up and screamed.

  The dark figure lit the lamp, and flickering light casting monster shapes around the room, before illuminating her husband’s face.

  “Carrie.” Miles looked shocked. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “I didn’t know it was you,” she said as soon as she caught her breath.

  “I went to check on Belle.” Miles moved closer and grabbed a blanket from the bed. “She’s restless. I think she’ll foal today. I’m going to stay with her.”

  Carrie nodded, clutching her own blanket to her chest as her heart pounded back to normal. She still felt clammy and awful, still in the clutches of her bad waking.

  “Want me to come with you?”

  “No, you rest.” He leaned down and kissed her head. “Sorry to disturb you.”

  For a few hours, she drowsed, then rose in the darkness for chores.

  On her way back from the chickens, she heard Monty wicker and followed the sound. The big bay was tied up outside the corral, stomping his feet and whinnying nervously. She soothed him, and Miles came round the stables and waved her over.

  “Is Belle all right?”