by Lee Savino
After a few minutes, Carrie was sobbing, her face lowering into her hands, but she kept her bottom high in the air, just as he liked it.
Pausing, he ordered her to part her knees further. He continued the spanking, watching her juices flow until her inner thighs were coated. He longed to stop and have a taste, but kept reddening her cheeks.
Her skin turned dark pink, and he stopped. His hand slipped between her legs, teasing her a little. He felt her body tighten as she held her breath.
His fingers stilled and she sighed, but didn’t beg him.
Stepping off the bed, Miles checked her bottom and the rest of her. His wife’s face was wet with tears. He pushed back her hair again, cupping a cheek in one large palm.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Almost done.”
She took a shaky breath, and leaned into his hand. He bent to take her lips. “So sweet.” Going to the end of the bed, he admired his wife’s curvy form, her backside an even shade of dusky pink. Then he went to fetch something from his bags.
“I don’t have your paddle here, wife, so I had to improvise.”
He pulled out a long leather crop, a black flap at the end. Testing it on his hand, he saw Carrie wince and look back at the sound.
“Oh, no Miles,” she said.
He pointed, indicating that she should lie with forehead to the blankets, bottom up on raised knees, presenting a perfect target.
“Don’t argue, Carrie. You earned this.”
“Yes, sir.”
But he took a moment and stroked her back, feeling her tremble. “Carrie.” He bent down so his face was level with hers. “You know I would never truly hurt you.”
She turned liquid eyes to his, shutting them tight and then opening them again. “I know.”
Reaching out, he touched her cheek lightly. She took his hand and kissed it, then turned her face to the bed, gripping the blanket in her fists.
“It’s almost over.” He tapped her backside, then swung the crop down harder, smacking one fleshy cheek then the other.
She jumped a little, but didn’t cry out. The fear of the crop was worse than the actual sting.
Miles gave her a few more taps, then had a devilish thought. Standing directly behind his wife, he rubbed the leather flap her between legs.
Carrie gave a shocked cry and her knees snapped shut.
“No,” he barked. “Spread.” The crop hit the inside of her thighs until she squeaked and opened them.
“We’ll have to work on this, dear heart. Once a week in the woodshed. I’ll tie you up until you learn to stay still.”
She moaned and he worked the crop back and forth between her legs, rubbing her folds. When he pulled it out, the leather was coated with wet. He definitely would be using the crop on her again. Carrie didn’t often earn punishment anymore, but still liked the playful discipline, along with being tied up.
“Do you like your new toy?” he teased, watching her nipples harden. “I’m going to tame you like a wild filly and teach you to mind. Maybe get a bit for your mouth so you keep quiet.” He liked the idea so much, he had to pause to rub his throbbing member. Carrie did, too, for the tops of her thighs were now shiny with her juices.
He used the crop on her bottom some more, not hitting hard, just enough to make her jump. It only took a little twist of his hand and the crop landed with a resounding smack. As much as he wanted to mark her, today he would keep it light, and work up to the harder, stinging hits. He had all winter to practice.
Satisfied with the color of her bottom, Miles went back to torturing her, sliding the leather back and forth over her slick center until she was panting.
“I don’t think you deserve to come.” He took the crop away, and smacked her twice, once on each bum cheek. Two red marks showed, but Carrie didn’t seem to mind.
“Please, sir.” Her voice sounded low and breathy. Her legs spread further apart, bottom tipping so he could see her plump red lips enticing him.
“Beg me,” he ordered, fisting his cock.
Her head craned to see him, her eyes almost glassy in her pretty face. Watching him work his cock, she licked her lips, and he almost spent himself at the sight.
“Please, I need you. I need…” Babbling nonsensically, she pressed her cheek to the bed and arched back as far as she could.
Miles couldn’t take it anymore. Moving to the front of the bed, he climbed up and put his back to the headboard. Once seated, he used a handful of her thick hair to guide her until she knelt before him, mouth open near his cock.
“Suck,” he rasped, and she did. Her mouth made small sucking sounds as her tongue lapped at him eagerly. He touched her with the crop, but she didn’t need encouragement. Wild with desire, Carrie was intent on devouring him, working her tongue up and down his length, then swallowing the head and teasing it with her tongue.
He tugged her head off his cock and fell to his back.
“Ride me.” He tossed away the crop. After only a moment’s hesitation, she crawled up over him. They’d only done this a few times, and the sight of her bouncing over him turned the position into his favorite.
Heat rose into her eyes until he almost didn’t recognize his sweet wife. A red-lipped siren, nipples pointing and body ripe for him sank down onto his cock, shuddering a little as he filled her. She was short and curvy and unbelievably perfect, but as she rocked over him, she bit her lip, still shy.
Gently, Miles hefted one breast then the other, swiping thumbs across her nipples before stroking his hands down her back. Her eyes went half-lidded at his touches and her bouncing sped up. Miles gripped her hips to control her, holding her still longer on the down stroke so she ground against him before lifting back up. They worked this rhythm together for a moment. Then his thumb found the sweet spot between her legs, and Carrie lost it. As she started to tip over the edge, Miles reared up and took her mouth, swallowing her wild cries. His own climax hit him, and he thrust up hard, trying to root himself in her for all time.
He shot into her, then fell onto his back, seeing stars. For a moment, he could only lie there and stroke her hair. Carrie slumped over him, her curvy body sprawled over his, the most beautiful blanket in the world. Passion always exhausted his sweet girl, so he savored the moment, running his hands down her back and telling her how beautiful she was.
“Merry Christmas,” he said after a few minutes. “Do you like your gift?”
She looked at him quizzically.
“The riding crop. Next year, when Mary’s old enough to spend a half day with Rose or Esther, I’ll be training you with it.”
Her eyes widened and her whole body convulsed.
He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She pressed her face to his chest and nodded. Still grinning, he kissed her hair and rose to dress.
“Ready to celebrate with the others?” he asked, but when he looked back at his wife, she was still tangled in the blankets, a mournful look on her face.
Frowning, he went back to sit next to her. “What is it, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”
“No, I like your gift. It’s just…” She gnawed her lip until he took her chin.
“Carrie, tell me.”
Pouting, she turned woeful eyes onto his. “I only made you a sweater.”
His laugh filled the room.
Christmas officially began at the breakfast table, with Esther and Rose serving mountains of flapjacks, smothered in maple syrup and fresh butter. The men came tromping in from checking on the horses and getting more firewood, and reported drifts up to their knees.
As the couples and Jesse came to the table, Esther and Rose rushed to the kitchen and back, adding coffee, bacon, eggs and more and more flapjacks until Lyle caught his wife around her waist and pulled her into his lap.
“Sit, Mrs. Shepherd.” Johnathan also reached for his wife, and Esther took her place next to him. Jesse, straightening from where he was cooing over little Mary, noticed the Reverend holding his wife’s hand un
der the table. Indeed, all the couples were sitting close together, Rose on Lyle’s lap outright, the redhead giving her husband a sly smile. Jesse’s brother looked quite smug as he shifted and she winced.
The women seemed to be sitting very carefully, but their eyes sparkled.
Jesse pretended to be oblivious, shoveling food into his mouth nonstop, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off his favorite of the three women. Under her mass of chestnut hair, Carrie’s cheeks were apple red, and she could barely look at her husband without blushing. Miles wore a grin so broad Jesse hardly recognized the stern man at first.
“More bacon, brother?” Rose said at his elbow, and the young Wilder turned his green eyes to meet her mocking glance. She’d noticed his interest.
“Please.” He knocked off half the rashers on the plate. “Haven’t had a meal like this in months.”
“You need a wife,” Lyle laughed, and Jesse could’ve kicked his brother. All the women’s eyes turned towards him, looking him up and down like he was a piece of meat.
Grabbing his cup, Jesse took a sip of coffee. “Who says I haven’t got one?”
“Really, Jesse? Who?” Rose asked, a sharp glint in her eye. His sister-in-law missed nothing, and he was glad his face was hidden behind the tin mug.
“A proper lady,” he said finally. “We’re not married yet, but will be.”
“Hmmm,” Rose said, and glanced at Esther down the table.
The blonde was smiling outright, a bright light in her eyes. “Mr. Wilder, if you need any help—”
Her husband cleared his throat and immediately Esther fell silent. Miles, too, had fixed Carrie with a stern glance and was shaking his head.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Jesse said, and ignored everything but his plate for the rest of the meal.
The conversation swung to the food, then to tonight’s feast and the gift giving.
“It’ll be a fine Christmas,” Mr. Shepherd was saying.
“But what about Mr. Martin?” Carrie blurted.
A pause, and everyone looked to the bedroom door, the last they’d seen of Mr. Martin and Mrs. Lovett.
“Awfully quiet in there,” Jesse guffawed, and winced when both Lyle and Rose kicked him under the table.
“They’ve been in there all night?” Esther asked, just as the door to the bedroom swung open, and revealed Mrs. Lovett in a fine green dress with a fashionable crinoline. Behind her was Mr. Martin, beaming as he offered his arm to the lady. She was a hand taller than him, and with her hoops, four times as wide. She sailed across the floor with Martin scurrying to keep up, a great galleon accompanied by a dinghy.
The two paraded to the breakfast table, where their audience sat in stunned silence. Then, as one, all the men around the table rose in deference to the matron.
“Mrs. Lovett.” Johnathan indicated the place to his right, while Esther jumped up to get more food. “I trust you slept well.”
“Like a babe in a manger,” she boomed, and both Lyle and Jesse choked back a laugh.
“And Mr. Martin…” Johnathan seemed at a loss for words, faced with the beaming shopkeeper and the large smile stretched across the bald man’s face.
“Ah, Marion and I— I mean, Mrs. Lovett, I mean…” Martin paused and took a deep breath. Jesse noted Mrs. Lovett looking down at her escort with a fond smile. “We have an announcement to make,” the shopkeeper said firmly.
“We’ve come to an agreement,” Mrs. Lovett added. “Reverend, please get your book. Lawrence and I wish to be married, post haste.”
In the stunned silence, Jesse laughed out loud. Then the room erupted.
“Hurrah!” shouted Esther, frightening the baby, who burst into startled cries. “Oh, sorry,” the blonde said, but Carrie quickly took up her child, both she and Rose cooing Mary into silence.
Lyle and Miles went to Mr. Lawrence, pounding him on the back, while Jesse dashed to the newly affianced lady. The younger Wilder kissed Mrs. Lovett on both cheeks and, gripping her around her waist, swung her around as if she was a lithe girl, and not a matron of almost forty-nine. Johnathan and Esther both stood pronouncing congratulations, the latter waving her handkerchief at Mr. Martin when he looked a little peaked from the overwhelming attention. And Mrs. Lovett laughed and laughed.
Looking back, Jesse had to admit it was the merriest Christmas he’d had. After the marriage ceremony, the whole party bundled up and went out into the snow, looking over the dazzling white hills.
“Such a wondrous country,” the new Mrs. Martin said. She hadn’t lost her cheerful mood, and her cheeks were as bright as a girl’s.
“We’re quite well suited,” the matron told the room after the announcement. “It was unsure at first, but we talked most of the night and, well, he convinced me.” Turning to Rose and Esther, she said, “I must thank you for writing on his behalf. It was a jolly good prank, and it’s all ended well.”
The women all gaped at her as the bride turned to Martin and patted his cheek. “I cannot be angry when it led to meeting my Laurie.”
Lawrence had blushed to the roots of his almost nonexistent hair.
After a romp in the snow, the party came inside, some to nap, some to play games, and others to get the food started for the feast. As the building filled with delicious smells, Jesse lay on his bedroll, black hat over his face and half listening to the conversation.
His ears pricked up when Carrie shared a letter her friend Susannah wrote.
“‘Boston is my home but wears on me,’” Carrie read. “‘My engagement has ended under the saddest circumstances, yet I feel as long as I am here, I must hold my head up high.’”
“How did it end?” Mrs. Martin broke in.
“He died,” Carrie said.
“Oh goodness.” Mrs. Martin sat back and waved for her to continue reading.
“‘The job teaching is my one solace, and even that will soon end,’” Carrie read. “‘Auntie gets many gentleman callers on my behalf (although I think she imagines half of them), and she insists I accept one and be married by next fall, or she’ll cut me off. She is hoping for a summer wedding, I can tell. If I’m very unlucky, she’ll accept Mr. Johnson; he is fifty-five and round as a cheese wheel (because he eats one a day, I’m sure)—’”
Rose laughed.
“‘—but he’s done very well for himself in shipping, and Auntie thinks he’s the best. He’s so boring, Carrie. I’ve taken to wearing bloomers around the house just to scandalize him, in case he calls.’”
“Bloomers?” Lyle interrupted.
“Skirts made to look like trousers,” Rose explained.
“Yes, they’re all the rage among the progressive girls.” Mrs. Martin flapped her hand as if dismissing a line of youthful women in bloomers. “They’re all walking about New York wearing them, as if they’re in a Sultan’s harem.”
“Oh my,” Mr. Martin said.
“I bet I’d look good in bloomers,” Rose said with a sly look at Lyle. He raised a brow at her.
“You wear them, there will be consequences,” he promised.
“Don’t tell Esther we’ve been talking about bloomers,” Johnathan said. The tall Reverend was up on the hearth, holding a pan of chestnuts over the fire. “She thinks they’re more practical than skirts.”
“A wife or daughter of mine caught wearing bloomers would get a trip to the woodshed,” declared Miles.
“Hear, hear,” Lyle said.
“Is that so?” Rose murmured in a silky tone that Jesse knew meant trouble.
But Lyle only laughed. Capturing Rose’s hand, he kissed it. To Jesse’s surprise, Rose gave her husband such a warm glance, she looked closer to her rightful age of nineteen.
Carrie cleared her throat. “Susannah sent a picture.”
“Is she wearing bloomers?” Mrs. Lovett leaned forward.
“No, a silk dress.” Carrie passed around the picture, and Jesse had a peek. Susannah was a pretty girl, with wide eyes and light hair. Blonde, he seemed to remember from C
arrie’s description of her friend. Her dress was fashionable but modest; she had a small corner of her mouth turned up, a tiny peek into the personality hiding under the perfect gown and smoothly coiffed hair.
Esther came out of the kitchen, pulling off her apron.
“Is everything in hand, dearest?” Johnathan asked her.
“Bread is done, the roast is turning, and everything else can be prepared just before.” She tossed her apron on the table and cried, “Time for presents!”
“All I ask is for my fair share,” Jesse argued.
The feast was done, the carols sung, but Jesse was having a rough night. He’d hoped his brother would be more amenable to allowing him back on the claim.
He was wrong.
Lyle was having none of it. The tall man stood, arms folded, using every inch of his extra height to look down on his brother.
Worse, Rose sat behind her husband, arm thrown over the back of the chair, with that bored, haughty look she wore so well.
“When I gave you half the claim, it was with your promise that you’d help me work it,” Lyle said. “Not a week later, you were off riding to California to find gold.”
“Which I did.” Jesse threw up his hands. “I sent it to you to pay my share.”
“I needed help, not gold.”
“So hire a man with the money I gave!”
“Lower your voice,” Lyle hissed. Outside the room, the party was still going on.
“Why should I? Let your friend’s know how you cheat your family—”
He expected a fist from Lyle; the two brothers fought at least once a year. Lyle usually won, though Jesse had always gotten in a few good hits.
What Jesse didn’t expect was his sister-in-law to launch herself at him.
“You dare,” she hissed, coming at him with nails out.
Jesse jumped back, and Lyle grabbed his wife and swung her around.
“Get out,” Lyle ordered his brother.
