by Maggie Ryan
"Remember that cure you still need to provide?"
She was confused until he pulled her even closer, his hand on her backside as he pressed his groin into her belly. Her gasp was loud as she felt the distinct bulge even with the barrier of their clothing. His deep throated chuckle had her blushing.
"Now what were you saying?"
"Saying?" God, she couldn't think straight.
"About the eggs."
"Eggs?"
His chuckle turned into full laughter as he patted her bum and stepped back. "I believe you were telling me you were unsure if you could handle the basket?"
"Oh, um, yes… I mean, yes, I can."
He grinned and offered her the basket, waiting until she took it in both hands. "Good, because I'm starving." She trembled as he bent to kiss her forehead. "And, my sassy girl, the quicker we eat, the faster you can provide your healing touch."
She couldn't think of a single thing to say. He chuckled again. "I'll take care of the horses." She nodded as he stepped away. After a deep breath, she felt she could trust her trembling legs enough to carry her to the house. She'd just stepped up onto the porch when he spoke again.
"Don't you touch the eggs."
Turning back, she gave him a smile. "How am I going to cook them if I don't? I'm not going to throw them."
"Just leave them for me, okay?"
Not sure if he truly didn't trust her not to launch another missile at him, she nodded. "Okay."
When he began to unhitch the team, she opened the door and stepped inside the very house she'd run from only hours earlier. As she walked into their small kitchen, she knew she'd never run again.
By the time Wyatt joined her, she had the potatoes she'd peeled sizzling in a pan, along with a diced onion. The honey cakes were in the oven warming, and the bacon was heating in another skillet. Despite her promise, she'd touched the eggs, but only to remove them from the basket and put them on a cloth, and had set a small bowl next to them. Every time she glanced at them, she was torn between wincing and smiling. Who knew that something as innocent as an egg could cause such a turn-around in their lives.
"That smells great," Wyatt said as he washed his hands.
"Everything is almost ready," she said.
"Not everything," he corrected as he reached for the bowl and picked up an egg.
She kept one eye on the potatoes and the other on her husband as he took his knife and began to poke at the egg that he held over the bowl. Her brow furrowed. Did he not know how to crack an egg? She gave a small jerk when he cursed as the egg shattered.
"That's not how you break an egg. Here, I'll do it," she offered, reaching for the bowl.
"No," Wyatt said, pulling the bowl closer to him.
"Do you seriously think I'm going to throw them?"
"Not in the least," he said, looking up from the bowl where he was picking out pieces of eggshell. "But if you keep trying to touch my eggs, I seriously think you are about to add to your count."
"Count?"
"Yes, my dear. The count your little bottom has coming. I also seriously think you are about to burn your part of breakfast."
He chuckled when she gasped and turned her attention to the hash. Flipping it over, she shook her head, grateful that she'd caught it just moments before it would have burned. Evidently he'd removed all of the shell because she saw him pick up another egg. She had to bite her lip to keep from correcting him as he once more poked at one end with his knife. After a moment, he turned the egg over and began poking at the other end. Shaking her head again, she took the bacon out of the skillet and moved the hash off the burner.
"Perfect."
She looked at Wyatt in time to see him lay aside his knife. What was perfect? The egg remained intact. At this rate, the eggs might be hot, well, they would be if he ever actually broke the rest of them, but the rest of their meal would be cold. Her eyes widened when she saw him place the small end of the egg to his lips and she lost her determination to remain quiet.
"Do you think kissing it will cause it to break?"
He looked up, his blue eyes twinkling even as he shook his head and moved the egg away from his mouth. "Darlin', the only thing I want to break with my kisses is your silence."
She didn't understand what he meant but when he put the egg back to his lips, leaned over the bowl, and blew, the egg's contents dropped into the bowl. He blew again and then set the egg back onto the cloth. Though strange, his method had worked. She was a bit disappointed when he cracked the last two by simply tapping them on the edge of the bowl.
"You can beat them and add them to the hash now."
She took the bowl and as she whipped the eggs with a fork, she watched as he carefully poured water from the pitcher into the egg with the holes, blowing on it several times until the water ran clear. As she returned the hash to the heat and added the eggs, she watched him take each piece of the two broken eggs and wash them, as well. Shaking her head as he dried them, she divided the food onto two plates, giving him a much larger portion. She placed the plates on the table, which had been set that morning before her trip to the chicken coop. Returning to the kitchen, she poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table as well.
"Breakfast is ready," she announced.
"Not quite yet," Wyatt said as he approached the table. He set a folded cloth down in the center of the table and then carefully added the eggs he'd washed. The four halves surrounded the whole egg which was standing in the center. "Now it's ready." He pulled out her chair and she took her seat.
"How did you learn you could empty an egg like that?" she asked.
"My Ma taught me. Every Easter she had us blowing out the eggs and then she'd paint them and use them as centerpieces."
"Oh, maybe I should paint yours," she said as he slid into his chair opposite her.
"Not this one. It's absolutely perfect just the way it is. It might not be as pretty, but it is the most important one in my life," he said. She looked across the table to find his eyes on hers and when reached for her hand, she laid hers in his. "It shows that with careful attention, tenderness, trust, and most especially with love, things broken can be made whole again."
Tears flooded her eyes as she looked at the eggs. Hope filled her heart with the promise they represented. He lifted their hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm.
"That's the promise I give you, Aggy." Too full of emotion to speak, she gave him a shaky smile and a nod. "Now, eat up because, darlin', I've every intention of proving that promise."
Though his promise, as well as the look in his eyes, had her stomach filling with butterflies, she managed to eat.
After they were done, she cleared the table, being careful not to jar the centerpiece. She placed the dishes in the pan and was lifting the bucket of water he'd filled from the large barrel at the side of the house when he took it from her.
"You can do the dishes later."
"But—"
"Later, Agatha. We have something more important to attend to."
Nodding, she stepped back, understanding that he was talking about the spankings he'd promised to deliver. Remembering the long list of transgressions she'd confessed to while over his lap, her bottom clenched.
"Go ahead and take off your apron," he instructed as he moved away.
Obeying, she untied the bow at her back and then hung the apron on its hook. Her hands itched to at least pour the water over the dishes but his next words had all thoughts of housekeeping flying from her mind.
"Come here, Agatha."
Looking towards him, she saw that he had moved his chair out from the table. He'd taken a seat and was holding out his hand. Swallowing hard, she took the first step that would change the dynamic of their marriage. Walking to him, she stopped when she reached his side.
"Do you remember why you are going to be spanked?"
"Y-yes," she whispered.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir, I remember."
"Go
od." He patted his lap. "Right over now."
She could feel her face flush but obediently bent to lie across his knees. A soft gasp escaped her as she felt unbalanced but he put an arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against his body.
"I've got you, darlin'. I won't let you fall. Put your hands flat on the floor."
Planting her hands on the floor, she realized that the only contact possible with her feet were the very tips of her boots, and yet she felt secure. That was until he began to lift her skirts.
"What are you doing?" she gasped.
"Baring your bottom for your spanking," he answered, her skirts and petticoats lifting higher.
"But…"
"Exactly," he said as he laid the yards of fabric onto her back. "Your little butt is my target, and I'll need to see it to deliver your spanking."
"My Pa never—"
"Agatha, I'm not your Pa. I am your husband. I told you that spankings given to a child differ from those given to a wife. I'm also telling you that I will be the one to decide not only how to position you, but how your clothing will be adjusted if you are wearing any."
Wearing any? Surely he couldn't mean… Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt the tie at the back of her waist being tugged at. "What are you doing?"
He sighed before answering. "Agatha, it is not customary for you to question my every move, especially when you are being punished. Normally we'd begin with some swats over your bloomers, but since I gave you a few in the barn, go ahead and lift up for me."
Pushing against the floor with her hands, she attempted to rise.
"No, honey, just your hips so I can take your bloomers down." Her soft whimper did nothing to dissuade him. "Lift up, Agatha. When you are being spanked, it will be on your bare bottom."
He'd never even seen her fully naked. When she bathed it was behind the closed door of their bedroom. When he claimed his husbandly rights, he did so under the blankets and simply pushed her nightdress up before pressing into her. He was always so gentle and accommodating of her shyness—well, until now. She felt her entire body flush but managed to lift her hips. His fingers grazed her skin as his hand tugged on first one side and then the other until her bloomers had been successfully tugged down. Her eyes closed as they continued their journey until he released them at her ankles. She could feel the cool air wafting across her flesh and goosebumps once more rising on her arms. However, this time they weren't caused by thoughts of her husband's bared chest, they were caused by the knowledge that he was not only looking at her naked bottom, but, seeing as it was daytime, she didn't have either the darkness of the night or the concealing covers of their bed to hide behind.
"You have a beautiful little ass."
Oh God, who said such things? Surely it wasn't a proper topic of conversation, regardless of the fact that he was her husband. This time it wasn't his order that broke through her thoughts, it was the feel of his hand rubbing circles across her buttocks.
"Are you ready?"
"Ready? For what?" Though she'd been reluctantly ready to be turned face down over his knees, she surely hadn't been ready to be bared.
"For your spanking, Agatha. Are you ready for me to begin?"
"Uh… um, I-I guess."
"That's my good girl."
Before she had time to process the fact that his simple praise made her heart fill, she felt his hand move from her backside. Though she couldn't actually see it, she could sense it lifting in the air. She was just about to inform him that no, she wasn't ready, she wasn't anywhere near ready, when the first stroke descended to smack against her flesh.
Chapter Six
Smack… smack… smack… smack
"I told you to go to the corner and what did you do?"
Smack… smack… smack… smack
"You ran away.
Smack… smack… smack… smack
"You are never to run away from me, young lady!"
Smack… smack… smack… smack
"You scared the hell out of me when I couldn't find you."
Smack… smack… smack… smack
"But I was scared!" she protested.
"Scared of what? Scared of me?"
She shook her head. "No, I-I was scared that you… that you would set me aside. That I was so… so bad that you didn't want me anymore."
"I'll never do that, Aggy. No matter what, I will always want you. Do you understand?"
"I-I guess." She gasped when he resumed her spanking.
Smack… smack… smack… smack
"You guess? Young lady, I love you and I will never let you go. Do you understand?"
"Ye-yes, sir."
"You weren't bad, Agatha. You are too wonderful and too sweet to ever be bad. That doesn't mean you weren't very, very naughty," Wyatt said, his hand connecting again with her backside.
Smack… smack… smack… smack
"Ow! Stop!" She reached back to cover her bottom.
"Get your hands off your backside and put them back on the floor."
"Can't I get up? I won't… Ow!"
Wyatt's hand moved to slap against the back of her other thigh. "No, young lady, you won't be getting up for quite a while yet."
"But my bottom already hurts! That's enough spanking!"
Shaking his head, he reached for her hands, easily gathering them in one of his. She gasped as he pinned them to the small of her back and she began to squirm in an effort to swim off his lap.
"Enough? Agatha, your ass isn't even pink yet."
"It's not?"
Her response gave him pause and he couldn't help but smile. "No, honey, it's not." He released her hands. "Look back and see for yourself."
She turned, her neck craning and shook her head. "I can't see."
Realizing that the mound of clothing at her waist was blocking her view, he attempted to press it flatter.
She twisted a bit, her back arching. "I still can't see."
"Okay, let's try this." He helped her off his lap and then reached for the button of her skirt.
"What are you doing?"
"Aggy, you don't seem to believe me. I want you to know that you can trust me. In order to do that, you need to look for yourself."
"Wait, um, I believe you."
Wyatt looked up at her to see her face reddening. The cheeks above her neck had far more color than those below. "I still want you to see for yourself." He pushed the button free and her skirt slid to the floor. She gasped when he untied the ribbon of her petticoat and, the moment it began to slide, she slapped her hands over her pubis.
Wyatt had to fight the urge to reach for her hands and push them aside. She was his wife and he had every right to look at every single part of her. And yet, he understood that it was going to take some time for her to get past the image of herself that bastard had been drilling into her.
"Now can you see?"
"What?"
"Your bottom, honey. Look back and tell me what you see."
He watched as she turned her head to look over her left shoulder. He almost chuckled when she turned her head to look over her other shoulder, as if positive that her right cheek had to show color. Finally, she looked up at him.
"So?" he said.
"Um, it's not red."
"Is it pink?"
More color suffused her face as she flushed again. "No, sir."
"Can you trust me to finish your spanking? I swore I'd never hurt you and I will keep that promise."
"My bot-bottom might not be pink, but it does hurt."
Wyatt nodded. "Spankings are supposed to hurt, Agatha. It would be a rather pointless exercise if they didn't. But I swear to you, I will never harm you."
"Okay."
He took her arm to guide her back over his knees but she resisted, bending down as she released one hand which had been shielding herself from his view to reach towards the floor.
"What about my clothes?"
"Darlin', remember, I told you that there is nothing indecent or impr
oper between a man and his wife. That includes your body or mine." He had to fight the urge to grin as an idea came to him. "Would it make you feel more comfortable if I took off my pants?"
She instantly popped back up. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped. "Oh… um, no, that's-that's not necessary."
"Well then, shall we continue?"
"Do-do we have to?"
He was pretty sure that having to fight against smiling was uncommon when disciplining a wife but he was definitely having to do so. She was just so precious.
"Yes, darlin', we do." He patted his lap and she allowed him to guide her into position.
Wyatt tucked her into his waist once more. He rubbed his fingertips across her flesh. Being in charge wasn't the easy job he'd imagined from his time as a young man. The weight of responsibility was heavy on his shoulders and in his heart.
Agatha was a small woman and yet she wasn't weak. Her body was trim, perfectly curved and padded in all the right places, and she was healthy. She wasn't made of glass but the last year had made her very fragile in her soul. If they had a chance to become whole, he would have to be strong enough to fully accept the burden of responsibility. He would also have to be patient and guide her slowly along the path to a better place. The time it took didn't really matter. They had the rest of their lives. The important thing was that they would take the journey together.
"I know that when we were in the barn I told you that I was going to spank you with my hand and also use your hairbrush. However, if you can stay in position and accept the rest of your spanking, we won't use the brush today."
"Will you hold my hand?"
Her request tugged at his heartstrings. "Yes, if you'd like me to."
She reached back and he took her hand, this time entwining their fingers together.
"Thank you."
"No, Aggy, thank you. Are you ready to continue?"
"Yes, sir."
He didn't lecture this time. His hand moved from cheek to cheek, delivering swat after swat, until her skin began to turn pink. Even though he knew it was a light spanking, it was the first time he'd truly punished her. As he increased the force of his swats just the slightest, the color of her beautifully plump globes began moving towards red. Though he was quite positive she had been ready to accept her spanking, she began to wiggle and twist, her feet kicking up as her bottom was heated.
