by Lee Savino
Another bedroom door opened and Miles came out, pulling up his suspenders. One glance at Lyle, and the stocky man also caught up his rifle.
From the Donovan’s room, the baby Mary began a wavering cry. Miles turned on his heel, ducking back into the room to check on Carrie. When he exited again, he shut the door, the thick wood shutting off all sound of the babe.
“Ready?” Johnathan asked grimly, even as Mr. Martin came out, blinking sleepily, dressed in his long underwear. Rose also peeked out, her red hair spread over her quilt.
“Stay in the room,” Lyle ordered his wife, and after a quick glance around the room, she obeyed. Mr. Martin also disappeared, perhaps mortified that Rose had seen him in his long johns.
“Ready,” Lyle confirmed once Rose’s door had shut. He and Miles trained their guns on the door as Johnathan went to open it.
The Reverend waited until there was a pause in the savage pounding, then called, “Who’s there?”
“A friend. Let me in!”
Johnathan undid the latch. The door swung open, and a blast of cold wind sent the Revered staggering back.
A tall, snowy form burst through the door, stamping and blowing. “Damn the cold. Thought I’d be stuck out there forever.”
Miles shouted for the intruder to stop, at the same time Lyle recognized the stranger’s cocky voice.
“No.” Lyle motioned his friend to lower the shotgun. “It’s my brother.”
“Hello.” The younger Wilder was almost as tall as Lyle, but with a rough face and a thick beard filled with snow. “What’s everybody doing here?”
“Trying to outlast a blizzard, you fool,” Lyle said affectionately, and stepped forward and slapped his brother’s back, melting frost and all. Snow fell from Jesse’s beard and dark hair. “More sense than you.”
Jesse chuckled and pounded his brother on the back. “Merry Christmas to you too.” Then he whirled to stop Johnathan from shutting the door. “I’ve brought a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Lyle asked, but Miles had already swapped his gun for his coat, and was following Jesse out to see to the horse team.
“I’ll build up the fire,” Johnathan said.
The bedroom doors opened and the women and Mr. Martin all came out, properly dressed.
“It’s Jesse,” Lyle told Rose, then turned to Esther. “He’ll need supper.”
Nodding, the blonde hastened to the kitchen. After meeting her husband’s glance, Rose followed the Reverend’s wife, shaking her head as she often did when Jesse was around.
Chuckling to himself, Lyle tromped out into air thick with white flakes.
A few minutes later, the fire was blazing high, and Esther had heated stew and cider over the fire. The company, but for Carrie and the baby, had all gathered around the fire to greet the newcomers.
Lyle’s companion, a stout woman with grey hair and cheery red cheeks, sat near the fire, a hot cup of cider in her hands.
Jesse spoke in between spoonfuls of stew. “We left Florence this morning, thought we could make it by evening. Snow slowed us down, but we missed the worst of it.”
“What on earth possessed you to travel in this blizzard?” Rose asked.
Jesse grinned at his sister-in-law, not at all perturbed by her sharp tone. “You’ll have to ask Mrs. Lovett here.”
The robust-looking woman set down her mug and spoke in a strong, confident voice. “A little snow never hurt anyone. I grew up in northern climes; this snow is but a teaspoon compared to what we lived through.”
Rose choked back a surprised laugh and Esther’s eyebrows went up.
Jesse grinned. “I found her in Florence, accosting every man with a horse and asking for a ride up here. Figured why not.”
“Well, then, Mrs. Lovett, let me be the first to welcome you to Royal. We’re happy to have you, especially since you took so much trouble to come.” The Reverend did the greetings all around.
When Mr. Martin was introduced, Mrs. Lovett sat up straighter. “Why, Mr. Martin, I’m so glad you’re here.” Coming to her feet, she went and grasped the shopkeeper’s hand, shaking it firmly even as he blanched.
“I had come all the way so we could be together for the new year,” she explained. “But the stage master grew faint of heart in Colorado Springs, and I was stranded until young Jesse came along. But it all turned out all right, and now here I am.”
“Uh, madam,” the shopkeeper stammered. “Should I know you?”
“Don’t play coy with me.” Mrs. Lovett chuckled, pushing at his shoulder. “You sent for me. I’m here in person to tell you: I accept your offer.”
Despite the cold, the bald man was sweating. “My offer?”
“Of course, man,” the woman boomed. “I wouldn’t come all this way if I wasn’t serious. I’m not getting any younger. Now let us be married.”
Mr. Martin’s mouth fell open.
Lyle guffawed.
Esther and Rose shared a horrified glance.
And Mr. Martin toppled over in a dead faint.
An hour later, the barn was quiet again. The wives were all in their bedrooms, and the three husbands stood around the fireplace. Jesse lay on his bedroll nearby, arms behind his head and a lazy smile on his face. He was the only man smiling.
“Carrie confessed it all to me,” Miles said. “Last month the women conspired to answer the woman’s ad in the Denver post on behalf of Mr. Martin. It seems their letter was worded so prettily, this widow made plans to come to Colorado straightaway. She sent a telegram, but of course Mr. Martin didn’t understand it and assumed it was mismarked. He sent one back, but she was already halfway here, despite all the snow.”
“So it was all our wives’ doing?” Lyle asked. “Mr. Martin knew nothing? And now this lady is here, and thinks he knows her?”
Miles nodded, and the husbands all took a deep breath.
Johnathan, in particular felt his hand twitch, as it did when Esther did something particularly naughty.
“How is Mrs. Lovett holding up?” Lyle asked Johnathan.
The Reverend shook his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “Strong as an ox, will of iron. Seems to take the confusion all in stride. She’s with Martin now, helping him recover from the shock.”
“She makes her own smelling salts,” Jesse piped up from his bedroll. “Not for herself, of course, but for all the people around her who she thinks weak.”
“She seems the sort who could thrive out here,” Johnathan said, his tone almost amused.
“She’s a hearty lady,” Jesse agreed. “I enjoyed her company. Shame it will be a wasted trip. A man would be lucky to have her.”
“You longing for a wife?” Lyle raised an eyebrow at his brother.
“Not me,” Jesse said hastily. “I prefer my freedom. Besides, I have my own companion,” he said, reaching for his bag and pulling out a silver flask. Lyle cleared his throat, and Jesse paused with the flask halfway to his lips.
“The Revered might take issue with you drinking here.” Lyle frowned at his younger brother.
“No, no.” Johnathan waved Jesse on. “Drink all you like. It’s a good night for it.”
“It is that,” Jesse said, toasting the Reverend before bottoms up.
“Feel like a drink myself,” Miles muttered, with a dark glance towards his own bedroom door.
The stout wood was doing a fine job of keeping in any noise of the baby, or anything else inside, Johnathan noted. A husband could take a paddle to his wife’s bottom, and the door would hold back most of her cries.
In fact, all the husbands were looking at the doors to their rooms, probably thinking the same thing.
Lyle cleared his throat. “If Mr. Martin and the lady are settled in for the night, I best turn in, too. We’ll have to settle things in the morning.”
“Very well, gentlemen. I bid you goodnight. My wife and I need to have words,” the Reverend said.
Both Miles and Lyle nodded, and headed to their own rooms.
As Johna
than entered the bedroom, his wife stood to greet him, the lamplight washing over her lovely features. One look at her husband’s face and Esther hurried to their bed, and leaned over it in her usual spanking position.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her derriere sticking out, ready for discipline. Over the years, he’d had many causes to punish her, and the sight of her submission never failed to send a jolt of pride through him. Whatever trouble she caused, she always allowed him to bring her to heel. It was his pleasure to discipline such a lively and beautiful woman.
Stepping closer, he admired the golden sheen of her hair. Her body quivered a little in anticipation. He took a deep breath, stepping into the role of disciplinarian, and schooled his expression into one more serious.
“Esther,” he said as he set down the lamp. “Do you know why you’re being punished?”
“I meddled in Mr. Martin’s business, and answered Mrs. Lovett’s ad on his behalf.”
As she spoke, he positioned himself next to her, raising her night rail and exposing her fleshy cheeks. Her curves were all beautiful, but he especially liked the pale orbs that would redden nicely under his punishing hand.
“Yes. You’ve disturbed two people’s lives, one of them our good friend who is now humiliated. Mrs. Lovett undertook a journey under false pretenses, uprooting her life completely. And all over a misunderstanding.”
She whimpered, and hung her head lower, so it was almost cradled in her arms. He’d found that Esther dreaded the lecture more than the spanking. The whole time he squeezed her bottom with a firm hand, readying her for a good long session.
“Not to mention you dragged your friends into this scrape.” Johnathan started the warm up swats, little smacks that had her cheeks quivering slightly. “You are a good friend, and a good wife, but you must learn to stem your meddling ways. If you cannot, it is my job to remind you.” His warming slaps increased in intensity for a moment. “You will not go behind another’s back and post mail impersonating them. You will not play matchmaker at our friend’s expense. And you will quell your naughtiness before you include your friends.”
He stopped and pulled an implement out of his pocket—a wooden spoon he took from the kitchen. She wouldn’t expect it. Johnathan paused a moment, waiting to see if she would peek at him, but Esther remained in place; she knew better than to move during a punishment session, even if he left the room.
“Good girl.” He couldn’t help praising her. “Are you ready to take your punishment?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice was partly muffled by the blanket, and her fists gripped the fabric. She knew if he gave her a long warm up, she could expect a serious session.
After checking her bottom, now a blushing pink, Johnathan let the spoon fly. He started by tapping the wooden implement all over her pink skin, paying particular attention to her sit spots as she squirmed and shifted from foot to foot.
“Hold still, Esther.” He applied the spoon to the underside of both curved cheeks. “Bottom up. Back in position.”
With a sob, she pressed her front into the bed, raising her behind.
“That’s it.” Johnathan bent a little, catching a whiff of her sweet musk. His wife enjoyed pain and humiliation; she might want to deny it, but her body never could. He couldn’t stop his fingers from checking between her legs, feeling the wetness soaking the plump lips of her labia.
Esther sighed, pressing into his hand.
“Naughty girl,” he growled. “This is not for your pleasure.”
She stiffened, but he kept stroking her, knowing this was a far worse punishment than any spanking. But he was the master of her body, and if he wanted to tease her, he would.
Her body tensed further, and he pulled his hand away, then brought it to his lips. “Soaked,” he muttered, and then offered his fingers for her to suck.
Esther did so obediently, tongue curling around his fingers and hot mouth sucking. His cock was so hard he felt it might burst out of his breeches at any minute. One word and she would drop to her knees in front of him, eager fingers opening his breeches and a greedy little mouth devouring his cock…
Johnathan groaned and took his fingers away. “Naughty, Esther.” He gave her a hard smack. “You’ll not get out of this so easily.”
After a flurry of swats with his hand, he took up the spoon again. By now, Esther’s buttocks were red and hot to touch, and she gasped and squealed as he continued to let the spoon dance over her cheeks. He knew from testing the strike on his thigh that the spoon looked small, but fell with punishing force, leaving a sting that went deep and wouldn’t go away. Esther wouldn’t sit easy Christmas morn.
Sure enough, his wife started the litany he knew so well, the usual pleading and promises to behave.
“Please, Johnathan, I won’t do it again, I’ll be good…”
He ignored her begging, keeping on until her bottom was a well roasted red. When he stopped to check on her, she still wasn’t crying hard; after years of getting into scrapes, she had built up quite a tolerance for pain.
But he had a surprise for her. Pausing, he squeezed her red bottom, then stepped behind her to enjoy the view. Her glowing cheeks framed her cunny, the pale inner lips and golden thatch soaked with her cream. They wouldn’t be pale for long.
“Legs apart,” he said.
“Johnathan, no, please,” she gasped, knowing what he was about to do. Spanking between her legs was something he’d introduced a few months ago, and he had yet to use it in a serious punishment.
“Now.” He tapped the inside of her thighs lightly until she settled into a wider stance. Her pussy lips were plump and wet, the perfect target.
Johnathan stopped to adjust himself before taking aim.
“Count them,” he said.
“Oh, no.” Esther was well and truly sobbing now. At the beginning of their marriage, Johnathan would’ve stopped well before this point, but now he knew his wife could take it. She deserved a stern punishment for what she had done. Her capers were often amusing, sometimes annoying, but never so hurtful. And, if the blizzard had been any worse, positively life threatening.
The spoon spanked between her legs with a telltale splat. Esther’s legs jerked a little but she kept them apart.
He’d spent one delightful afternoon training her to keep still, and trust him, while making clear that her pussy belonged to him.
“One, sir,” Esther said in such a pathetic tone, he almost dropped the spoon and pulled her into his arms right then and there.
Instead, he used the spoon on her pussy again.
After a long whimper, Esther got the words out. “Two, sir.”
As he prepared for the third (and final) hit, Johnathan noted Esther’s legs had rocked wider and her bottom stuck out further, almost welcoming the spoon.
“Esther,” he knelt behind her, checking, “do you like this?”
“No, sir,” she said quickly.
“Don’t lie to me.”
She hesitated. “It feels like it’s almost too much. But after, it feels wonderful.”
He fingered her folds, hearing her catch her breath.
“Do not climax,” he ordered, and her head dropped lower on the bed.
He could hear her chanting over and over again, “Please, sir, please.”
Withdrawing his sopping fingers, he stood. His wife’s legs were trembling, but she held position as he considered his options.
He really shouldn’t give in. This was punishment, and she’d more than earned it.
But it was Christmas, and he wanted her to know how much she meant to him.
“Stand up. Arms above your head.”
She was on her feet almost instantly, her arms raised so he could easily whip her nightgown over her head. Once it was gone, her hands settled at the top of her head. Johnathan often ordered her into this position so he could undress and then inspect her. By the way she blushed, he could tell she found his perusal of her naked body embarrassing and arousing at the same tim
e, but she always stayed obedient to his every demand. And his inspections were very thorough.
His hands traced her beautiful curves now.
“I know you did not mean for it to go this far. But you must think through your actions. You are an incredibly beautiful and intelligent woman. You hold power over people, and you must exercise responsibility.”
“Yes, sir.” She shivered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are.” He gripped her buttocks again, one after the other, and heard her ragged gasp. His cock throbbed so hard, he felt it would rip through his pants, and he decided he had waited long enough.
“On your back on the bed, Esther. Head towards me.”
She lay with her hair hanging down, face up. Her bottom was raised a little to keep her scorched cheeks from touching the fabric. He allowed it, knowing soon her legs would tire and she’d be forced to lower her burning bottom to the quilt.
Drawing out his cock, he approached her. She let her head fall back and opened her mouth wide. His wife loved taking him this way, he knew. It was the combination of submission, humiliation, pleasure and pain—a bundle of contradictions she seemed to revel in. That was his Esther. And she was all his.
He slid his cock in to her mouth. It felt so good, he almost cursed, and his near loss of control made him laugh.
“Esther, you could drive a godly man to sin.” He pinched her nipples, and she moaned around his member.
“You will not come,” he told her sternly, and smacked her breast, only to watch her sigh as if he’d caressed it instead.
Did she enjoy that too? Perhaps he could punish her breasts as well, alternately caressing and slapping them, and tormenting her nipples to gauge her response. He decided not to test it tonight. There was plenty of time, after all. It could be a gift to himself for Christmas, or their anniversary. It excited him to think that after five years of marriage, he was still discovering the delights of his wife’s body.
“This is to please me,” he reminded her, moving in and out of her mouth. “Show me how thankful you are for your punishment.”
Humbly, she laved her tongue over him, keeping her head and throat in line so his cock could enter her throat.
