Native Spirits Bundle: (BBW, Werewolf, Rough, Western, MMF)

by Claudia Balvenie

  “I suspect you enjoyed yourself, my mate?”

  She swallowed to clear the juices from her throat. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “Do you understand then, how great the pleasures of the flesh may be?”

  She licked her lips, tasting the saltiness that the men had left behind. Once more she nodded.

  “Good.”

  He knelt before her, his beastly form huge and imposing. “Tomorrow we attack the town.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Your 'civilized' men have been raiding our villages, stealing our women. The things they have done...” he trailed off. He took a deep breath and finally continued. “They are bad men. I intend to teach them respect for my people.”

  She looked away for a moment. What he said didn't make sense. They were normal men, not savages. Surely that wasn't true. Still, even she had paused from running to the town, untrusting of the men's urges. Now, she was willing to support whatever her mate asked.

  “What do you need from me?”

  A grin spread over his lupine features.

  “You, my dear, are bait.”

  Punished on the Plains

  Native Spirits #3

  by

  Claudia Balvenie

  @claudiabalvenie

  claudiabalvenie.com

  Copyright 2015.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  CHAPTER 1

  Emma was locked in a stockade.

  Her head was lain into a carved out, wooden hole. The same was done with her hands, but her wrists were small. To make up for this, iron cuffs had been locked onto either of them, secured by a heavy chain that dangled in front of her.

  She was helpless.

  The rough Western men of the town circled her, their eyes drawn to her curvaceous body. She could see the hunger in many an eye, the lust. It still unnerved her. She was an old maid at twenty-seven. No man wanted a woman like her. Slender, waif like women were in fashion. That wasn't Emma.

  But as her ample breasts were pushed hard against the wood of the stocks, she saw their attention growing. Her body was barely covered by a thin cotton shift. It was the only thing she'd been able to take from her cabin. Her barely used slit was already beginning to drip from both the embarrassment and the danger.

  A portly man stepped forward, directly in front of her. He held a book before him, pointedly avoiding looking at her. She took him for the mayor of the town.

  “Do you understand what you are accused of?” He asked, his voice booming through the crowd.

  A smirk touched her lips. “Of being female and a stranger?” She never would have spoken back so flippantly to these people even two days ago. Her mate had made her stronger.

  He began to stutter, his face turning red, “What?” He looked up, her voluptuous cleavage drawing his eye before he realized what he was doing and looked back down. “No, no..”

  “Well then, Sir, I have no idea.” She made a helpless motion with her wrists, raising an eyebrow.

  “You stand accused of witchcraft!”

  A soft laugh escaped her throat. She'd seen incredible supernatural things in the past few days, but witchery was not one of them. “You have no proof of that.”

  “Of course we do! What sort of woman would wander into a town, dressed like that? And these are good, upstanding men. They are pillars of the community! And you are using your witchcraft to make yourself more desirable!”

  “So desirable that you wish to punish me in this manner?” She asked, a twinkle in her eye.

  His eyes once again had drifted, this time to her rear. It was in such an uncomfortable position, the stockade not allowing her to kneel or sit, merely bend over. It made the shift ride up an indecent amount. A good man would have give her his coat to cover her.

  There were no good men here.

  “Well, yes. Overnight in the stocks.” He once more became immersed in his book. “That is the punishment for witchcraft.”

  Burning at the stake was a more likely punishment for witchcraft. These men were utterly transparent. She knew exactly why she was here, exactly what their intentions were. As they began to file away, taking their last looks at her bound form, she knew that she was in for a long night.

  And that her mate was utterly right.

  CHAPTER 2

  Emma had argued with the Wolf King for hours, inbetween bouts of exploring each other's bodies. He was her first lover. He'd claimed her for his mate. And she was bound by an insane lust for his otherworldly body. She wondered why she'd saved her virginity for so long.

  She was discovering so many pleasures, more than she could have imagined even existed. With him she'd discovered her lust for the darkness. She desired things that she knew were wrong. These were things that had been drilled into her head for years, things that a woman should never do.

  Now she was not only being taken by him, but shared by his men as well. The Wolf King felt that she'd not experienced nearly enough physical enjoyment in her life, and he was making up for lost time. He'd bound her to a tree and let his men use her as an object for their own needs, spraying her with their seed.

  She loved every second of it.

  But they'd argued still, about his ways and her own. It was the theory of civilized society. What she was doing with him and his men, that was not the way that a proper woman should behave. No man would do as he had, no woman should enjoy it as she did.

  Her mate confided that many men were like this, their minds hiding dark, savage desires. He even said he might prove it. He told her that the town below, the one that her men meant to attack, even their men would take her and use her for their own enjoyment. All she needed to do was walk to it, clad only in her shift, her hair disheveled. The rest would take care of itself.

  And so she lay against his nude, half-wolf form, her head laying against his furry chest, and they came up with a plan. She was going to help them with their attack.

  She would be bait.

  And now she was bound, trapped in the stocks, watching as the sun sank down into the horizon. She knew them men were coming. She knew her mate was nearby, eagerly watching. Her own body tightened and loosened, becoming moist at the thought of what was to come. She'd tasted the savagery from her native Wolf King, but that was to be expected. But to see what a civilized man might do to a woman, when he believed himself beyond the law? Well, she grew flush just thinking of it. She willed the sun to set faster.

  CHAPTER 3

  Emma moved her weight from one foot to another. She tried to adjust her cuffed wrists, the heavy chain protesting her movements. She glanced again to the horizon, where the sun was finally slipping below.

  She'd been in the center of the square, right where everyone could see her. No one seemed to recognize her, even those she'd met before on her infrequent trips to the general store. And why would they? When she would visit with her brother to pick up staples, she always wore a demure dress, stretching all the way to her ankles. She always kept her hair covered, and would never look anyone in the eye. She was shy and ashamed of herself. After all, no one wanted her. She could hear them whisper about how her poor brother had to care for her since she was so old.

  She was no longer that maiden. She was a woman claimed, and by a king no less! Even now, helpless though she was, she kept her head high. Her mate wanted to see her go through with this. He wanted to prove to her just how rough her society was. He wanted her to understand that all men were the same, slaves to these lustful demons.

  She truly did not think so. After all, why would society train all of their women to be demure and chaste? Was it all just an elaborate scheme to combat male jealousy?

  Then her king explained exactly what the stocks were for.

  Nearby, she could hear the saloon's patrons beginning to get rowdy. She swallowed nervously. The rest of the town had quieted
, but it was an expectant quiet. All knew what was to happen. Men would tuck their wives into bed, claiming to need to check on the livestock just once more. Others would put on their coats and slip away, claiming they just needed a drink. She caught more than one curtain pulling back, to watch her bound form.

  Full dark had fallen. The saloon was becoming even louder, as the patrons grew worse. Emma became aware of someone behind her, and felt her body tense in surprise. She'd assumed they'd all come from the saloon. But this one was a lone wolf. She suppressed a chuckle. No, he was probably not a wolf, they were, strangely, more direct.

  She felt a stranger's hands as they hesitantly reached out, touching her rear. She felt a soft sigh escape her lips. At the positive reinforcement, a second reached out, each carefully caressing her butt cheeks.

  A shy voice pierced the night. “I've never been with a woman before. And you're so beautiful...” She could hear the awe in his voice, the thrill. “I ain't never seen so much of a lady unclothed, 'cept in pictures.” His hands slowly moved towards the center of her rear, instinctively knowing where to touch. She moaned softly. Having so recently discovered the pleasures of the flesh, this was a man she could understand.

  “It's alright,” Emma began, and he immediately yanked his hands away from her. Perhaps he thought she was unaware of what was going on? Instead, she pushed her rear towards him, suggestively. “I know what is going to happen tonight.”

  “Y...You do? Ma'am, I...”

  Her laughter was dark and throaty. When had she become this creature, lost to lust? She was willing to do anything just to feel it again.

  “You'd best enjoy it, before all your fellow townsmen break it in two, hmm?”

  She'd clearly taken the words from him. He did not bother to answer her, instead, his fingers slowly began to trail down her slit. She knew she was dripping from the prolonged foreplay, her body crying out for release. But she had no control. She couldn't even reach herself to make herself feel good.

  He found her tiny pearl almost accidentally. A moan escaped her lips. He was listening, as if trying to learn everything he could. There weren't many women this far out West. The frontier was a man's world. He slowly began to rub little circles around, causing her breath to quicken.

  And so he continued to experiment with her most intimate areas, this man she did not know, one she'd never seen. He kept his ministrations, listening to her cries, watching her body. For a man who'd never touched a woman, he clearly was teachable. It didn't take long before her body had had enough. A rush of pleasure shot down her spine, causing a shrieking cry to pierce the silence.

  She knew it was a mistake as soon as it escaped her lips, yet she could not pull the sound back into her throat. The man behind her rose up, and she could hear him adjusting himself.

  “You sure you've never done that before?” She asked, breathlessly.

  “Yes Ma'am,” he stated, all politeness. “I'm going to fuck you now, if that's alright?”

  She nodded simply, though whether or not he could see it past the wood of the stockade she was unsure. She felt him pulling her cheeks apart, looking for a hole, guiding his hardness to it.

  He slipped the mere head inside, and paused, as if savoring the moment. Then his hips thrust forward, and he was suddenly completely encased inside her. A moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure was torn from him.

  He was unmoving for such a long time that she finally bucked her hips against him, reminding him what he was there to do. Having never been with a woman before, perhaps he truly didn't know. But he took to it quickly. She felt both his hands clasp against her hips, confident now, and he began to plunge in, and pull out, over and over, testing the limits of his body, the warmth of hers. She could feel him inside, trembling already forcing himself not to explode so soon.

  She'd learned a little trick from her mate, and she decided to put it to good use. She began to squeeze against him, tightening her already near-virgin hole to extremes. Squeeze and release, squeeze and release, she timed it with his thrusts for maximum benefit.

  It was too much. His first time, deep inside her body. Her canal milking him towards his point of no return. He gave it, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips, his explosion ripping through and out to that one hole, exploding deep inside of her.

  But it wasn't enough for him. He kept thrusting, kept pushing, not understanding how far he could push himself. He was still rock hard and kept pistoning in and out of her, stabbing her deepest parts towards his own pleasure.

  His second release was even thicker, coating the sides of her canal and shooting further beyond. Again his shrieks pierced the quiet, and she saw multiple curtains pulled back, watching what he was doing to her. Strange, those watching would know exactly who was taking her while she had no idea. It was intoxicating.

  He ended up leaning heavily on her, causing her poor legs to tremble. She'd been holding herself up for so long that she simply couldn't hold his weight too. She began to fall to her knees and he quickly caught himself.

  “Well, ma'am, I surely thank you for your time.” He said, in between gulping down air.

  She laughed softly. So formal, even after he'd been buried inside of her. “It was.. my pleasure?”

  He gave her an awkward clap on the shoulder and she could hear him walk off. What he did, of course, was only an appetizer. The main course was still inside the saloon.

  CHAPTER 4

  Emma stayed kneeling, feeling the stranger's juices as they dripped down her thighs. This was no more a comfortable position than bending over, but it was different. Her night would be long, she would do well to switch it around so that she didn't get too terribly sore.

  The raucous in the saloon had reached a fever pitch. It would not be long until they came outside Right now those drunken men were debating exactly what they were going to do to her, bragging about their stamina or their size. It didn't matter to her, none of them could compare to her mate.

  And her king, she knew, was nearby watching. Half-wolf, he was so stealthy that none would have been able to discover him, even if they had expected an attack. And it was their surprise that he was counting on.

  Finally, with a kick, the saloon doors burst open. Out filed a group of some of the roughest men she'd ever seen. All of them were dusty, from their cowboy hats down to their boots. As they moved, their spurs made metallic sounds. Quite a few seemed solidly drunk. All of them came towards her, forming a lose circle.

  Even the mayor, the fat, disgusting mayor was part of the group. He stood before her again, a bottle of whiskey in his hand instead of a book. He laughed heartily at her predicament, his stomach jiggling with the effort.

  “Well now, don't she look mighty fine?” Asked the mustached sheriff, tipping his hat to her ironically.

  “Indeed.” The mayor reached out, cupping her chin in his thick fingers. He turned her up to look at him. “I suspect she's ready for her punishment...”

  She laughed, and an angry look passed his jowly countenance. “Admit it, Mr. Mayor. You know I've done no 'witchcraft' here.”

  He frowned again, his forehead wrinkling above her. “I know no such thing! There is no way a woman, a simple woman such as yourself, should have been wandering alone on the plains.”

  “No? Why don't you just admit that you and your men saw this as an opportunity to tie me up and have your way with me?” She prodded him, strangely calm.

  He shook his head again, quickly. “How dare you accuse me of lying! A witch, I say! Punish her!”

  She shook her head, laughing. No, these upstanding men of the community, they couldn't possibly have come up with an idiotic reason to see her bound and helpless to their whims. She could already hear a man behind her adjusting himself, fiddling with his belt. She wondered if they punished “warlocks” the same way.

  She braced herself for the first assault upon her canal, and was surprised as the first lash of the belt struck home. A scream escaped her lips. She had not expected this! />
  Another tore through the night, and another. They sliced into the pale flesh of her buttocks, ripping screams of pain from her throat. She'd expected and even wanted them to take her. That she looked forward to. Was her mate truly wrong? Did they really only want to hurt her?

  No! The man before had taken her, even managed to give her pleasure as he did so. But these men? The crowd mentality would take over. They would be cruel to her, make her suffer. They fully intended to punish her, just because they wanted to take her.