More Than She Bargained For (The Widow Wagon Book 2)

by Megan Michaels

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  About This Book

  By Megan Michaels

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Excerpt — "Cinch Your Saddle" — Widow Wagon #3

  By Megan Michaels

  From The Author

  The Widow Wagon

  (Book Two: More Than She Bargained For)

  Megan Michaels

  About This Book

  Wild as an untamed stallion, Daisy was never much for going along to get along. Her fiery spirit, burning passion and curvy beauty, which had served her so well in her young life were nevertheless useless to her when a Confederate captain comes calling with grave news. The greatest conflagration to ever befall the country has left its mark on her life too — forever. Lost, despairing, and with little choice left to a young widow, Daisy will nevertheless have to draw one last time upon that fierce spirit to strike out on her own. A new life in the great American west. Far from the misery and danger of the post-War South. A Dane transplant in Nebraska waits for her at the end of the long trail. A mild-mannered Scandinavian man might be just the thing for her. A gentle man would be easily malleable, no match for the force of her personality. Right?

  Training — horses specifically — was what Noah Jensen knew, lived, and loved. A new life far from his homeland of Denmark in the wilds of Nebraska suited him though. He needed the open spaces, the endless possibilities he could never have in his home country. Now, he needed more though — he needed a wife. Marriageable women were as rare in Nebraska as a warm spring day, so a mail-order bride was the answer. He’d been warned that the women obtained in such a way often needed… training. And one Daisy Anderson was a woman who particularly needed training. One look at her lush body, keen eyes, and volatile disposition though, and Noah knew she was the one for him. Now all he had to do was convince her of the same — even if it meant showing her just how strict and unbending a Danish horseman could be with his wife-to-be. He had no doubt she’d be making plenty of trips over his lap — or secured over a bale of hay in the shadows of his barn for a lashing of that round, white bottom of hers. The only question was how many times it would take to bend her will to his.

  Spirited southern sass, and female pride were about to collide with a Scandinavian rock more than ready to train his woman as thoroughly — and sometimes as harshly — as his fillies. Would the strong Nebraska Dane be able to tame her body without also breaking her spirit? And what was a man to do when his wife’s Civil War past comes back to haunt her, threatening to unravel his carefully laid plans for a life well-lived — and a wife well-disciplined?

  Publisher's Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!

  This is a MF BDSM Western erotic romance. Themes include: graphic sexuality, exhibitionism, spanking, bondage, pet play, anal play and other BDSM activities. If such content might offend you, please do not purchase this book.

  Word count: 56,878 words

  By Megan Michaels

  The Service & Submission Series:

  Finding Submission

  Mastering Inga

  The Widow Wagon Series:

  Book One: Second Chances

  Book Two: More Than She Bargained For

  Published By Stormy Night Publications

  What Naughty Little Girls Get

  The Little Princess Cruise

  Copyright © 2015 by Megan Michaels

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Rachel A Olson (www.nosweatgraphics.weebly.com)

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and as such, any similarity to existing persons, places or events must be considered purely coincidental.

  This book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.

  For mature readers only.

  Published in the United States of America.

  First Electronic Edition: July 2015

  Prologue

  Taking Daisy home, the chestnut mare galloped down the road faster than necessary, Daisy’s long, raven hair flying behind her like a black veil whipping in the wind. Exhilaration filled her.

  Free!

  But the breakneck pace kept her from noticing something else — her father reclining in a rocking chair on the front porch, waiting for her return.

  Daisy and her faithful friend Molly — more than a mere horse — halted in front of the stall, her horse snorting and prancing in place. They both shared the same spirit — wild, carefree, and on many days, reckless. On more than one occasion, Daisy had been reprimanded for her impulsive and shortsighted actions. She preferred to think of herself as untamed.

  Daisy leapt off the horse, brushing the dust and dirt from the trail off the pants that belonged to her husband, Jesse. They were a bit big but fit her fine as long as she used a strip of leather to tie them tightly to her small, delicate waist. She pulled the horse into her stall, taking the saddle and harnesses off her. She cooled the horse off with the cold water from the pump in the barn, brushing her down and rewarding her with a large pail of oats.

  She rubbed the horse’s nose and kissed her. Patting the horse’s flank, then stepping out of the stall, Daisy secured the latch behind her, taking one last look at the beloved animal. “We had a good ride today, Molly. You’re a good girl.”

  Daisy turned — and literally bounced off her father George’s chest. “Too bad her owner isn’t a good girl too.”

  “Daddy, you scared me half to death.” Daisy put her hand to her chest, closing her eyes briefly, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart.

  “Just as you scared me half to death watching you gallop down the road at break-neck speed. You’ve been told over and over to not ride that horse at that speed. Her knee is weak. She could’ve fallen, and rolled right over you.” George pulled her into the middle of the barn, not wanting to startle the horses in their stalls.

  “Daddy, I’m eighteen years old — and I’m married. I can, and have, been making my own decisions.” Daisy pulled her arm out of her father’s grasp, scowling at him. “It’s ridiculous!”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I don’t care that you’re eighteen years old. While Jesse is fighting the war, and you’re under my roof, you’ll obey my rules.” He paused, staring at her, his hands on his hips. “I’m sure you remember what the consequences are in this house for breaking the rules and acting out in defiance?”

  “What? Wait! You cannot be serious! I refuse to be treated as a child!” Daisy put her own hands on her hips. She’d been married for a year now and she had a house with Jesse. However, since the war with the Confederacy had begun, her parents asked — well, practically demanded — that she come back home once Jesse shipped out to fight with the Union. They were worried about her and she readily agreed to it, feeling lonely in the big house she shared with her husband. Besides, she missed the horses — and t
he riding.

  “I wouldn’t be treating you as a child. It’s true, you are no longer a child and, therefore, you’ll be treated as a grown woman. A grown woman who is acting like a child, and getting her bottom blistered. Childish behavior isn’t tolerated and will be driven out with a good hiding. I spoiled you as a child, but you’re a woman now and need to learn a modicum of restraint and common sense. You — or your horse — could’ve been seriously hurt today.” He brushed past her, shutting and latching the barn door.

  “Daddy! No, wait! I—”

  “No, you shush. The time for talking is over. You’ve been warned.” He walked back toward her, gently grasping her arm and dragging her over to stand by a wooden chair with a spindled back and side arms. “Untie that strip of leather around your waist and give it to me. And you’ve been warned about wearing pants before. I’m thinking these are Jesse’s pants. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She stood, frozen in place.

  Compliance.

  She needed to manipulate this situation and it seemed that respect and compliance would have to work in her favor.

  “Take that leather off, Daisy. Now.” He pointed to her waist. He was serious. The muscle in his jaw twitched, his eyes narrowed.

  “But—”

  “Now, Daisy!” He held his hand out palm up, giving her an expectant lift of an eyebrow.

  Her vision blurred as her eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking. “Okay.”

  Her trembling hands worked at the loose knot she’d made with the thin strips of harness to keep her pants up. Once the knot was worked free, her pants started to fall off her delicate frame. Holding them up with one hand, she offered him the strap with a trembling hand.

  George immediately folded it over and hit his thigh with the formidable implement. “You might as well let those drawers fall. They’re coming down anyway.”

  “Daddy, no!” Daisy clutched the pants even tighter, bunching the excess material at her waist.

  “Young lady, I’m not repeatin’ myself again.” He pointed to the ground. “Get ‘em down. Now.”

  “Oooooh!” Clutching her pants, she bounced on the balls of her feet. But she knew she couldn’t tangle with him. It would be better to obey. Letting go, the pants glided down her legs, puddling at her boots leaving her in only her pale peach pantaloons. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms in front of her pelvis, tears tracking down her cheeks.

  “Boots and pants off completely. I don’t want you tripping and falling.”

  The trembling in her body made the task more difficult than it had to be, a little sob escaping her lips. She stopped to swipe at her tears. Although it was warm outside, the dusty wood floor of the barn felt cool under the soles of her warm feet.

  “Go stand behind that chair.” He pointed to the spindled chair a few feet away, slapping the leather strips against his leg as he strode up to her. “I want you to bend over the back of the chair, hanging onto the arms. You’re going to need something to hold on to.”

  “Daddy, I won’t do it again. I promise! Can’t we just talk about this? You can yell at me all you want. I’m sorry.” Daisy wrung her hands in front of her thighs.

  “Nope. Talking is over, baby. You knew what you did was wrong, and you’ve been warned over and over. This could’ve ended in something serious. Bend over.” He gently pushed between her shoulder blades, encouraging her obedience. “Grip the arms of the chair, and those hands had better stay there until I’m done.”

  Daisy’s chest constricted. It had been a while since she’d felt that scared. It’d been a while since she’d been spanked too. She knew he was right, but she loved going fast. She loved the danger and excitement, the adrenalin rush with the wind blowing through her hair, the hooves thumping on the hard dirt, the occasional snort, the horse’s back muscles rippling under her legs. But if Molly’s knee had given way while galloping, Daisy would’ve gone down with her.

  “Let’s get these down too.” Her father tugged at the ties on her drawers.

  Panic gripped her and she started to rise. “No! Oh, God, no! Not bare!”

  “Down!” He bent her back over the chair, holding her in place while the other hand continued to undo the ties. “Yes, on the bare! I refuse to strap you with anything covering your bottom. No sense in tanning you over your clothes. You asked for this, girl.”

  The light material whispered over her legs, softly landing at her feet. Her stomach churned at the prospect of him striking her with the whippy strip of leather, especially on her bare skin. The air coming through the small windows in the barn wafted over her skin and the moist lips of her sex. She squeezed her thighs together to hide her quim from his view, knowing it would be impossible to keep it secret in this position.

  “Time to talk.” Her father slowly slid the harness strips over her backside, causing her to shiver, goose flesh rising on her skin. “You know Molly has a bad knee. I’ve even asked you to not ride her unless it’s a slow walk in the nearby pasture. But instead you take her to town and then gallop home with her on the hard road.”

  She gripped the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles were white. “I know. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “I’m sure you are. You’re gonna be a whole lot sorrier in a moment. Trust me.” His boot tapped her left ankle. “Open your legs further. I don’t want you clenching and bruising.”

  A moan escaped her lips, followed by a small sob. Tears slid down the bridge of her nose onto the shiny wood on the seat of the chair. Could this possibly be any more humiliating? She didn’t think so. She tried clenching her bottom, her position keeping the muscles of her buttocks from squeezing quite as well as she’d have liked. Instead, she felt her cunt drip with her juices.

  Why? Why would her body be doing this? Fear? Anxiety?

  “Let’s get this over with. Maybe the next time I warn you, the response will be obedience. I’m thinking after this, you’ll listen better.”

  His hand left her back, and she felt him take a step back. She heard the whoosh of the leather slicing the air a second before it struck her buttocks. She’d never felt anything like it, a line of fire cutting across her flesh.

  She screeched, rising to stand behind the chair, clutching her cheeks in both hands. “Oh, Daddy!” She bent slightly, trying to press her scorched flesh into the palm of her hands. The sting didn’t dissipate though, pain coming in fresh waves.

  “I told you that you were to keep your hands gripping the arms of the chair. Get back over that chair and hold on. If you get up again, it’ll be two lashes on your thighs. Now, move.” He pointed at the chair again, then took a step toward her, and she hurriedly bent over once more. She didn’t want to do anything that would increase his ire any further. She just needed this whipping to end. Now.

  The leather cut through the cool barn air, leaving line after line of pain on her bottom. That bit of harness marched up and down her bottom from the top of her thighs all the way up one cheek and back down the other. She squeezed the arms of the chair, shrieking and sobbing, the burn turning into a smoldering, all-encompassing pain that engulfed her whole bottom.

  She hadn’t realized he’d stopped until his hand gently rubbing her back brought her back to her senses.

  His hard, callused palm lightly stroked her seared bottom. “Do you think you’ll remember to listen and obey my rules from now on?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I p-promise.” She let go of the chair for a moment to wipe her face.

  “Good girl. Will you treat your horse better from now on?”

  “Yes, D-Daddy.” Her breath hitched, her whole body was trembling.

  “We’re going to make sure.” The leather tapped her bottom again. “Four more. That’s all.”

  “No! I just can’t.”

  But before she could say anything else it struck twice on the underside of each cheek. Her father tossed the strap onto the barn floor just to the right of the chair, pulling her to her feet.

  She threw her arms around his wais
t, burying her nose in his chest. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I w-won’t do it a-again.”

  Her father rubbed her back, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sure you won’t, baby. It’s all over.” He swayed with her in his arms, kissing her head, stroking her arms and back until her sobs subsided. Finally, he pulled away, tipping her chin up. “Now, I want you to march your little striped bottom into the house and go up to your room. After you put a nightgown on, I want you to stand in the corner by your window with that red, naughty backside showing. Ya hear?”

  She began sobbing again as she bent over to pull up her pantaloons. She turned to walk away, but her father pulled her back to him.

  “You’re a good girl, Daisy. I just want you to be a mature, patient woman. Go on up to your room and do as I said.” He sent her off with a light slap to her bottom.

  She scooted forward, bunny hopping out of his reach. Daisy quickly made her way across the yard, up and into the house. She ran past her mother in the kitchen, but not fast enough to escape notice.

  “Daisy, why are you…? Oh my Lord, did your father do that to you? Oh, Daisy!”

  Too embarrassed to answer her, Daisy dashed up the stairs to her room. She didn’t want to anger her father by not being in the corner when he came to check on her, so she quickly stripped and threw a summer nightie over her head. She resolutely walked to the corner and lifted her nightie to her waist. She looked over her shoulder at her very sore bottom, wincing at the angry red welts swelling larger by the second. But she kept her backside on display as required.

  She stared out one of the windows, deep in thought. She really was glad to be home and enjoyed her family, but it just didn’t seem fair that her husband had gone off to that damnable war — and now she was subject to punishment for her misdeeds.