by Maggie Ryan
She twisted around on the stood and smiled. "I always was an eager student."
Grinning, he took her hand and led her into their bedroom. After pulling back the covers on the bed, he removed the towel from her body. Her nipples were puckered, begging to be kissed, so he did. He lathed each one with his tongue before suckling until she had her hands fisted in his hair. Guiding her down until she was lying back on the bed, he knelt and pulled her forward until her bottom was on the very edge, using his hands to push her thighs apart.
"What are you doing?"
"Enjoying my wife," he answered. He bent forward and, starting at her knees and moving up, began placing small licks and kisses up her inner thighs.
"Wya—"
"Shh," he said. "Don't think, don't question, Aggy. Just enjoy." He began again on her other leg and this time when he reached the apex of her thighs, he placed a kiss on the top of her mons. When she moaned but attempted to squirm away, he placed his hands on her legs and spread her a bit further. "I love you, Agatha. I intend to show you that I love every single inch of you." He bent again and ran his tongue up her center, parting her swollen labia.
"Oh… oh, Wyatt," she moaned, pushing against his shoulders.
Reaching for her hands, he took them in his, entwining their fingers, and then licked her again. He continued to lick, nip and kiss her pussy until she was squirming, this time attempting to press herself harder against his lips. He circled her engorged clit and tapped at it with the tip of his tongue. Her body jerked and when he drew the bud into his mouth and suckled hard, she screamed his name and bucked against him. He continued lapping at her delicious nectar, thrusting his tongue into her until she was whimpering and, when she ripped her hand from his, it was to press his head to her core as she came for the third time that evening.
He gave her a few more licks and gentle kisses and then sat back, kissing the hand he still held. She was panting and her eyes were huge as they met his.
"I-I didn't know… I never thought… oh my," she said, and it was the best reaction he could have asked for. Grinning, he bent to place yet one more kiss on each of her thighs before standing. Seeing his erection, she gasped. "I don't think—"
"Shh," he said, joining her on the bed and sitting with his back against the headboard, guiding her to his side. "There are more ways to please a man's cock." He took her hand. When she became aware of his intention, she resisted.
"Touch me, Aggy. Trust me."
He wrapped her hand around his shaft and, although she flushed, she allowed him to move their hands up and down his length. After a few strokes, he removed his hand. "Keep going." She nodded, her concentration so focused that she had her bottom lip captured by her teeth. His cock jerked at the thought of her next lesson and she looked startled.
"It just means that you are making me feel very, very good," he said, reaching up to tuck a long strand of her hair behind her ear.
"I'm not hurting you?"
"No, darlin', you are definitely not hurting me."
She continued, giving him quick glances every time she went a little faster or squeezed a little harder.
"It's like velvet," she said. "Well, steel, wrapped in velvet."
"Kiss it," Wyatt instructed. Her eyes widened and he stroked a finger down her cheek to her lips. "Just like I kiss your pussy and clittie."
She hesitated and then bent forward and placed a quick kiss on the tip. He moaned and she looked up at him. "Again," he said softly. "Use your tongue and your lips. Put it in your mouth."
He had to grit his teeth as she opened her lips and her tongue darted out to take a lick. She lifted her eyes to his, then opened her mouth and took him inside. Her tongue darted across his cockhead and her eyes widened when she tasted the first drop of his pre-cum.
"That's good, Aggy, that's very good. Now take more into your mouth." He reached down to cup her breast, his fingers playing with her nipple. She gasped and then lowered her head and took more of his cock into her mouth. He refrained from thrusting up, wanting this first time to be at her own pace. Her tongue continued to lave him, running up the underside of his shaft.
"Take more," he said, his voice hoarse. "One day you'll take every inch." Her eyes lifted to his in disbelief. "Trust me, darlin', you will."
She continued to suckle, kiss and lick his cock until he felt his release approaching. "I'm going to come. Keep your lips tight around me." She whimpered but managed to take another inch and he felt her lips tighten. Removing his hand from her breast, he put it on the back of her head and gently held her in place as he erupted, groaning at the intense pleasure she'd given him. She jerked, pulling back a little, but then tightened her lips even more.
"Swallow, Aggy." She obeyed, continuing to swallow until he was empty. After giving himself a moment to recover, he bent and kissed her hair. "That was incredible. Thank you."
She allowed him to slip from her lips and he watched her swallow again. Dragging her up, he pressed his mouth to hers. Though she stiffened, it was only for an instant before she kissed him back. He wound his fingers through her hair, kissing her until they both desperately needed to breathe. Letting her go, he then kissed her cheeks and her forehead.
"Did I do it right?"
"Aggy, you did it perfectly."
She smiled, "Oh, well then, I don't suppose I'll need further practice."
He chuckled, loving her sass. "Since I'm the teacher, I think I shall decide when no further practice is required." He hugged her to him and helped her beneath the covers before spooning her back to his front. "Oh, and I only think it's fair to let you know, I believe in a very thorough education. I think we might be very old and very gray before I decide you are done practicing."
He could hear her giggle and he reached around to cup her breast. "And then, darlin', you can spend the rest of our lives proving that you haven't forgotten the lesson."
"Hmm, I think you are the strictest teacher I've ever had. I suppose it's a good thing that I love my teacher."
"Good to know, because I adore and love my student."
Chapter Twelve
"Very good," Wyatt praised when the wood splintered.
"I hit it, again?" Agatha said, her question showing her disbelief.
"Yes, and that makes three times in a row."
Agatha felt a ridiculous sense of pride as her two fellow students gave her shouts of congratulations.
"I told you that opening your eyes would definitely improve your aim," Wyatt teased. "Anna, great job as always. You managed to knock every target off." Repaying the favor, Agatha extended her congratulations.
"Charity, you are improving, but I want to see you strike the target repeatedly and knock it off the log. You are hitting it one out of six times."
"That's because it is so small," she huffed. "If that bobcat is that little, I won't need to shoot it. I can just pick it up and give it a home in the barn. It can stuff itself on mice come spring." When Agatha saw Wyatt's look change, she knew his compliments were about to come to an end.
"I bet you wouldn't find it so amusing if a bobcat of any size was standing between you and your girls," Wyatt said. His tone was quiet but none of the women had difficulty understanding he wasn't pleased. "This is not a joke. These woods and mountains are full of wildlife. Granted, most are content to stay away from humans, but let me repeat this, this is not a joke. If food becomes scarce this winter, or if an animal is aging and not able to easily compete for food and decides to find easy pickings," he paused to look at each of them, "and if that animal becomes a threat to you or your loved ones, I guarantee that you'll understand how serious this is."
"I'm sorry," Charity said quietly. "I know how hard all of you are working to teach us."
Wyatt nodded, not one to worry a subject to death. "Okay, I want to see each of you clean your gun, but for God's sake, make sure you check the cylinder and aim the muzzle at the ground to check the chamber before you begin."
Agatha grimaced. Would she ever f
orget that first day of practice? When he'd told them to put their guns down in preparation of learning how to clean them, she'd been grateful, as the revolver was heavy. She'd never considered that the gun wasn't empty. She'd dropped it onto the ground and then screamed when it discharged, the bullet coming within a foot of her husband's leg. He hadn't flown into a rage, though she'd burst into tears at the thought of how close she'd come to seriously injuring, or even perhaps killing him. Though not one of them had belittled her, they hadn't needed to. It was a long time before she could calm down enough to where she felt she could pick the gun up again.
After cleaning their guns, Anna and Charity thanked him for the lesson, Charity quietly apologizing to him again. Before they climbed into the wagon they'd shared to ride over, they reminded Agatha that Harriet was coming and they were making soap and candles the next day. The two women waved as they drove away.
James and Richard were at Charity's house, watching the children as well as going over the books and planning for the future. While the women appreciated their effort to allow their wives time to practice without their children needing their attention, both mothers always felt a bit anxious when separated from their little ones, even if only for a couple of hours.
"I'm very proud of you, Agatha," Wyatt said, pulling her to him and giving her a kiss before they walked towards the log.
"I'm still not anywhere as good as Anna," she replied as she helped Wyatt pick up the scattered pieces of wood.
"Aggy, Anna's been shooting guns her entire life. Heck, she's probably a better shot than I am," he said, straightening from where he'd bent over to stack the pieces she handed him that could be reused. He dusted his hands off on his pants and pulled her into his arms again. "The important thing is that you've come a long way. I know this isn't your favorite activity, but you are getting better every time, and becoming comfortable handling your gun."
Agatha leaned into him. They'd had a shaky start but the last two weeks had shown her how wonderful not only her marriage could be, but how wonderful it was to feel as if she was truly able to live again.
After they'd eaten lunch, he rode off to tend to some work, reminding her that she was not to leave the house. She could only nod, the memory of that first day of restriction running once more through her mind.
* * * * *
When he'd come home for his midday meal, Wyatt had once more found her in the chicken coop gathering eggs. He'd not been amused, even when she'd thanked the rooster for doing his duty in protecting his harem. He hadn't said a word as she closed the gate, the eggs in her basket. He'd simply followed her into the house and after she'd put the eggs down, he'd told her to bring him her brush.
"What?"
"I think you heard me, young lady."
"Why? Are you going to brush my hair?" Though the tense look on his face told her that it was a stupid question, she could think of nothing she'd done that warranted a trip over his lap.
"No. I'm not going to brush your hair. What did I tell you just yesterday about leaving the house alone without your gun?"
"But Wyatt, I don't know how to use it yet!"
"Then, young lady, you never should have stepped a single toe out of that door!"
His instructions flooded back and she really had no argument. The fact that she hadn't even remembered his edict until now did not negate the fact that he had given her explicit instructions, as well as warned her of the consequences. Despite the fact that the skin on her bottom started crawling, she turned and went into the bedroom. Walking back into the main room, she'd handed him the brush.
"Lift up your skirts and lower your bloomers."
Her face heated at his order. It was harder for her to obey this than she would have imagined. Having to bare herself, knowing she'd disobeyed him and that she'd disrespected his authority, made her feel awful. Tears began to well in her eyes as she untied the ribbon to allow her drawers to fall to her ankles. She couldn't even meet his eyes as she dragged her skirt and petticoat up to her waist.
"Bend over the table."
"Please, I-I…"
"Now, Agatha."
She learned that the only thing worse than getting a spanking was getting one without feeling his arm around her waist or his hand holding hers. Instead she stood alone, her hands gripping the edge of the table, her torso and cheek pressed to the unyielding surface.
"Lift your bottom up and push it out," Wyatt instructed from where he stood behind her. She felt the first tear slide down her cheek; not at his words; but at the fact that her choice to ignore his rule had forced him to utter them in the first place. Lifting her bottom, she arched her back to present herself for her discipline.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
She'd only felt his hand before, flesh on flesh. The brush thwacked into her with a solid sound, and felt far worse than his palm ever had. She honestly couldn't decide what was worse; the paddling, or the fact that he wasn't speaking, he wasn't lecturing, he wasn't discussing how she had disobeyed him, he wasn't asking her to state her transgression, nor was he issuing additional orders. No, there was no question as to what she'd done, and no reason to discuss it further. Her husband was punishing her, and all she could do was show her repentance by pushing her bottom up higher, pushing it out further, and accepting his authority.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Though she was determined to accept her paddling with dignity and prove she understood that she'd done wrong, she couldn't help but gasp as the hairbrush lit a fire that seemed to burn far hotter than any previous spanking. When she realized the brush had stopped, she also realized she had bent her knees and drawn her hips into the table. Placing her forehead on the cool surface, she took two deep breaths and resumed the position.
"I'm-I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking but not breaking.
"Four more, Agatha. Tilt up higher if you can. I want you to feel these every time you sit down for the rest of the day."
"Y-yes, sir."
He gave her time to compose herself, to brace herself for the sharper, more intense pain, knowing these last were to go onto even more sensitive skin. When she lifted her bottom as high as she could, she allowed the first tears to escape when she felt his hand softly pressing against the small of her back. She knew it wasn't to keep her in position, it was to comfort her, even though he was causing her pain.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The moment the four strokes had been delivered and accepted, she was pulled up from the table, turned, and engulfed by his embrace. Only then did she sob against his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist. They stood for several minutes, the only sound gradually softening as her sobs subsided.
He wiped her cheeks with his fingertips and then gently pressed his lips to hers.
"I'm really sorry," she said. "I won't forget again."
"See that you don't," he said, giving her another kiss. "I think I'd rather die than have something happen to you. And, Aggy, if I have to paddle you every day to ensure your safety, I will."
Nodding her head, she reached back to rub her aching bottom. "I know, and I promise to do better."
He allowed her only a moment of rubbing before pulling her hands away. "No rubbing. I want your hot bottom to remind you for as long as possible that I won't take your safety lightly."
Nodding again, she'd blushed as he'd restored her clothing, knowing that he'd find her inner thighs slick. He said nothing, just handed her the brush, and went to wash his hands for lunch. As she took her seat, she wished she'd not yet returned that cushion to Anna. She might not want to admit it, but she had doubts that this would be the last time she'd like a bit of comfort. Perhaps if she had enough of that soft flannel left, she'd be able to make her own cushion.
* * * * *
Pushing the memory of her first hairbrush paddling aside, Agatha washed the dishes and then settled before the fire with her sewing basket. She hoped to finish her new winter undergarments before morning. The days had
been overcast and they'd been expecting the snows to start any day. If she were to spend most of the entire next day outside, she'd want to be warm.
As she sewed, she thought about all the little ways her husband had surprised her. When she'd first brought out the cloth one evening and spread it out on the table to begin measuring, he'd grinned and taken the long string from her hand.
"Here, let me help."
"Have you ever sewn before?"
"Naw, but I've done my share of measuring." He'd pulled her close and then wrapped the string around her waist. "You really are just a tiny thing aren't you?" Before she could answer, he'd taken his knife and cut the piece of string.
Shaking her head, she said, "Well, you might be able to measure wood, but honey, since my bloomers go underneath my skirt and petticoats, your measurement is off." She'd reached for the string but he'd tucked it into his pocket with one hand and was reaching for her skirts with the other.
Her protests that re-measuring really wasn't necessary went unheeded as he insisted he do the job correctly, removing every stitch of clothing she was wearing and taking his sweet time measuring her waist, hips, and chest. Then he'd tossed the cut strings down onto the cloth and pulled her to him. Her naked skin against his clothing felt a bit strange, but his large, warm hand cupping one breast and his other roving across her backside had her body filling with delicious sensations.
"Sewing is hard work, I think we need to take a break," he said.
"I've only just started."
"Now I'm gonna start. Get this beautiful tushie to the bedroom." His hands squeezed her buttocks and heat blazed through her, all the way from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. She'd practically run to obey and had removed her boots and stockings by the time he joined her. After he'd removed his own boots and socks, she knelt up on the bed and reached for the first button of his shirt, slowly undoing each one until she could spread it open.
