by Zoe Blake
Even in the low firelight, it was impossible to hide the unmistakable outline of her erect nipples. He pulled the duster free and tossed it aside. Emma tried to lower her head in shame. Horn grabbed her chin with the knuckle of his finger and the tip of this thumb. He tilted her head back to stare into his intense gaze.
Rubbing the soft, fullness of her lower lip with the pad of this thumb, he warned her harshly, “You’ve already earned one punishment once I get all those clothes off you. I have no problem flipping that skirt over your head and tanning that pretty little hide of yours before we even start.”
Emma opened her mouth to protest but then thought better of it. She desperately wanted to ask why she was being punished but was afraid of the answer. Emma Fairfax, murderess! Or Emma Fairfax, attempted murderess! Oh god, she was going to hell!
Horn stepped back. Clutching the back of one of the spindle chairs, he brought it closer to the fire. Palming the leather latigo, he sat down. The slight wood swayed under his muscled bulk but held.
“I’m waiting, Emma,” barked Horn.
Emma gave a start. Uncertain how to proceed, she sat down on the hope chest and slowly…very slowly…unlaced her boots. Pulling them off one by one, unable to stall any further she made to rise.
“No. Not so fast,” came his husky voice. “Take off your stockings.”
Emma tried to reach under her skirt to roll down her black, wool stockings.
“Raise up your skirt.”
Swallowing a small sob, Emma raised her skirt to just below her knees. The simple, white lace edge of her pantalets peeked out.
“Higher.”
With shaking hands, she pulled fistfuls of the material to gather on top of her lap. The hem of her skirt was still stiff and cold, the contact on her warm thighs made her shiver.
“Open your knees.”
“Wh…what?”
“You heard me.”
Hesitantly, Emma opened her knees, slightly.
“Wider,” he ordered. “Spread them as far open as you can. Do not make me ask again.”
Emma spread her knees as wide as she could, praying her pantalets shielded her modesty.
They did not.
Even from his perch a few feet away, Horn could just make out the barest hint of mahogany curls covering her sweet cunny through the slit in her pantalets. It was far more alluring for what it hid than what it displayed.
“Continue.”
This time Emma quickly rolled off her stockings, knowing it would allow her to close her knees and rise. Once she was standing before the fire again, she was at a loss.
“The skirt,” offered Horn.
Reaching behind her, Emma fumbled with the small bone buttons till the simple wool skirt fell in a heavy slump at her feet.
“Kick it aside.”
She did as she was told. Standing before him in only her pantalets, blouse and chemise, Emma felt close to tears. True he had seen her bare bottom only a few days earlier when he spanked her, but this was different.
“The blouse, Emma.” His dark tone proving he would show no quarter.
As Emma undid the buttons of her blouse with all the speed of molasses in winter, Horn worked the buttons of his trousers. Pulling his cock free, he grasped it with his right hand, holding it upright. Watching Emma’s reaction intently.
Emma’s bright eyes widened in shock. Her mouth fell open as her hands dropped uselessly to her sides. She had had an older brother. Had even been forced to live like a boy for a few months so it was not like she hadn’t seen things. Male things. Male part things. But not like…well…that! It didn’t belong on a man! It belonged on a horse!
She was only somewhat familiar with the workings of what went on between a man and a woman. The encounter with Horn the other day notwithstanding. She at least knew part of it was him fitting that part in her parts and that part was not going to happen! Thank god he had stopped before it had gone any further. She could only assume he meant to stop this evening as well. It seemed to make sense to her. After all, they were not married. She supposed this is what men did with the fancy ladies in the brothels. Watched them undress and the like but nothing further. The thought of her being like a fancy lady didn’t sit well with her, but then again, she was sure most of those fancy ladies hadn’t committed murder…or attempted murder so who was she to sit in judgment.
The thought that he would be keeping his parts to himself seemed to placate her enough to continue with the buttons of her blouse.
Horn watched the play of emotions parade across her face with amusement. Shock to confusion to thoughtful to almost resigned all the while desire simmering in the background. She really was a curious little thing.
Enclosing his fist around the thick width of his shaft, he moved his hand up and down as he watched her undress for him. The firelight danced shadows across her creamy skin through the thin fabric. Teasing him with glimpses of a curve here, an outline of a form there. Finally, the blouse fell away. Emma stood uncertain. Lifting shy eyes to him, awaiting his command. He didn’t hesitate.
“The chemise.”
He had already seen her lovely bottom and caught a glimpse of her cunny. He needed to see her breasts.
Wishing for the hundredth time, that she had worn a corset, if only to delay the inevitable, Emma pulled on the pale pink ribbon which secured her chemise. The two flaps fell open, exposing where her generous curves met in a luscious offering.
Horn squeezed his cock, painfully hard.
“Take it off,” he ground out through clenched teeth. Starting to feel as if he were punishing himself more than her.
Emma pulled the chemise over her head. The flimsy fabric became entangled in her already loose chignon. Pulling out several hair pins. Thick curls came tumbling down as if on cue to hide her curves from his unadulterated view. As with the glimpse of her cunny through the pantalets, it made her that more desirable. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and Horn’s harsh breathing as he took in the sight of those gorgeous chestnut locks hugging and twirling about each breast. Her pert nipples peeking out through the tresses. A beautiful, pale pink.
“Don’t make me tell you.”
Emma did not have to ask his meaning but she gave one final attempt for mercy. With a tear running down her cheek, she begged, “Please.”
“No.”
Lowering her head, Emma bit her lip to keep from crying as she pulled on the thick, white ribbon which secured her pantalets. As the bow released, they fell like a whisper about her ankles. Even her long hair could not protect her modesty now.
Horn rose. Releasing the remaining buttons on his denims, he stepped out of the pants and kicked them aside. Prowling around Emma, he stepped behind her. Running the back of his knuckles over her skin, he skimmed the curve of her lower back, then the soft swell of her bottom. Emma shivered despite the heat from the blaze.
Horn gathered one silky curl into his palm. Lifting the long lock high, he brought it to his nose and inhaled. Rose water. It only confirmed what he already knew. Taking another step closer, he allowed the gentle rise of her bottom to cradle his balls as his cock rose to press along her back. She was so tiny her head barely reached the top of his shoulder.
Emma sucked in a startled gasp. Feeling the press of his warm, rigid flesh against her own was both fearful and strangely exciting. Like the primal feel you get when you sense a dangerous animal nearby, watching you, waiting to pounce.
Horn’s large, powerful hands slid along her ribcage. He could feel the fluttering of her heart through his fingertips. Palming the weight of each full breast, Horn dug his fingers in. Relishing in the warmth and feel of each generous curve. They more than filled his hands. Her pebble hard nipples pressed against the center of his palms. He rubbed his hands in a swirling, circular motion…teasing, testing her.
Emma moaned. Her head falling back against his chest. The soft ends of her hair tickling the already sensitive tip of his cock.
Reluctan
tly releasing her breasts, his hands moved to her small shoulders.
Applying pressure, he commanded roughly, “Kneel, Emma.”
The sudden harsh sound of his voice startled Emma out of the sensual haze she had fallen into.
“What?” she asked. Her voice soft and fuzzy sounding to her own ears.
“On your knees.”
Emma cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. His clenched jaw, lowered brow and dark penetrating gaze told Emma all she needed to know about pleading for any kind of mercy.
Holding out shaking arms for purchase, she hesitantly lowered herself to the small, rag braided carpet.
Horn walked back to the chair and picked up the latigo saddle strap. Testing its weight in his hand. At two inches wide and close to four feet long, it had some appreciable weight. It glowed a bright, reddish burgundy in the firelight. Horn found it came in handy as a punishment strap. No heavy buckles to worry about.
Turning back to Emma, he found her curled up, arms hugging her stomach. Her glorious hair hiding her charms like a curtain.
“Lean back and grab your heels. Push out those beautiful tits of yours and open your knees nice and wide.”
Emma stared at him with luminous eyes filled with tears. A stubborn pout on her lips. She didn’t move.
Horn took a step closer. His erect cock bobbed close to her lips. Emma looked down and then quickly averted her gaze.
Horn fisted his cock as he grabbed Emma’s jaw from under the chin. Painfully pressing his fingers into her cheeks, he forced Emma’s mouth opened. Pushing just the head of his cock into her warm, wet mouth.
Emma screamed and bucked but could not dislodge him. The press of his shaft forced her tongue against her teeth. Her lips felt stretched and bruised. Her hands clawed at his powerful thighs in a feeble, useless attempt to break free.
“This is just a taste. Obey me or I will force you to swallow the whole shaft down that tiny throat of yours. Do you understand?”
Emma tried to nod her head but was prevented by his tight grip.
Horn pulled free and stepped back. Emma was left with the musky taste of him mixed with the slight, metallic tinge of blood.
Horn raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Emma quickly opened her knees wide as she leaned back with her hands on her heels. Mortified as she was at the open and humiliating position, she did not want a repeat of having his part in her mouth.
Horn surveyed his little beauty on display. Her gorgeous, ripe and full breasts. Her sweet cunny with curls so slight they didn’t cover the soft, pink lips. Her pale, creamy skin glowing ivory in the firelight.
Taking his time to fold the latigo around his large fist, till there was length of about two feet dangling, he asked Emma, “Why are you being punished?’
“I don’t know,” she sniffed. The very picture of innocence.
Horn breathed deeply through his nose as a muscle in his jaw constricted sharply. He knew better than most man what lurked out there in the desert. The dangers. Dark, soulless men who would kill their own mothers for a shot of rot gut. Wild animals. Indians. Not to mention how close she had come to getting caught out there in this storm. He didn’t give a damn that she had tried to kill him today. Hell, the real surprise was more women hadn’t tried firing off a few shots at him. He cared that she had put herself in danger. Grave danger. He cared a great deal.
He needed to make sure she was never foolish enough to take such a risk again.
Reaching his arm back, he whipped the latigo forward with a snap. The thick, leather strap made contact with one perfect breast, catching the peaked bud, turning her delicate pink nipple a bright, cherry red.
Emma screamed as her hands covered the throbbing tender flesh. Snatching her knees closed, she curled her body forward. Her hair falling about her.
“Really? So that wasn’t you shooting at me with a Henry rifle on top the rock ridge earlier today?”
The shock of his pronouncement actually made Emma swallow her cries. Peeking up at him through the mass of tangled curls, Emma tried to gauge the situation. Once again she found herself wondering how much he knew, and if so, how did he know it? He couldn’t possibly have seen her!
“Back into position,” growled Horn as he grabbed a fistful of her hair.
Emma cried out as she was lifted by her hair, back up onto her knees.
“Hands on your heels.”
“Please! I can explain!” pleaded Emma.
“Hands on your heels. Tits out.”
With a choking sob, Emma obeyed. Squeezing her eyes shut, her whole body quaked as she waited for the next strike. He didn’t make her wait long. The leather latigo kissed her other nipple just as harshly as the first. The stinging agony almost worse with the new found knowledge. Emma screamed as her arms crossed over her abused breasts. Hugging the plumb flesh in an attempt to sooth the burning bite of pain away.
Rocking back and forth, Emma begged through her tears, “Please. No more. It hurts. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for shooting at you!”
Towering over her. His cock hard and pulsing. The thick leather latigo wrapped around his large fist, Horn knew he could not relent. She needed to feel the full force of his discipline, else he risked her putting herself in danger again.
Circling around her prostrate form, Horn crouched behind her. Placing a threatening hand around her throat, he tilted her head back.
“Open your knees wider,” he ordered.
Emma awkwardly obeyed. With her head tilted back and her knees splayed wide, Emma was forced to unwind her arms and use her hands to keep her body from falling backwards.
“Tell me again how sorry you are.”
“I’m sorry,” she whined.
Horn raised his arm, bringing the end of the latigo down with a snap over her unprotected cunny.
Emma howled in pain. Twisted and writhing as she tried to break free from his grasp.
Horn tightened his grip on her throat, pulling her body more fully against his own.
The agony was unbearable. A sudden, pulsing burst of throbbing blistering heat at her most sensitive core. What was worse…she knew she deserved it. Deserved the punishment. His punishment.
“Oh god! Please! Stop! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she desperately screeched.
“Say it again.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Will you ever disobey me again?”
Strictly speaking, Emma did not disobey him this time, but she was not about to argue that fine point with him now.
“No! No! Never! I promise! Please!”
“Prove it. Tell me to spank your cunny again.”
“What? No! Please, don’t ask it of me,” she pleaded.
Horn lowered his head to whisper darkly in her ear, “Prove to me you know you deserved this punishment, my little bunny, and I will make it all better in the end.”
His words sent a sick thrilling shiver of promise down her spine. Once again, it was if he was the one in control of her thoughts, her body, her everything. How had he managed to so effortlessly take over her world in so little time?
Emma wet her lips. “Please…pl…please…spa…spank…my…my…my….” She couldn’t finish.
Horn slid one hand from her throat to cover one full breast. Rolling a still sore nipple between his forefinger and thumb, he bit her earlobe as he murmured, “You have to say it, Emma baby. If you don’t, the punishment will be much worse.”
“Please spank my cunny,” she said in a rush.
“Because you were a very bad girl,” he offered.
“Because I was a very bad girl,” she repeated breathlessly.
With his body encircling her own, he could feel each muscle as it tensed in anticipation. Emma let out a whimper when she saw him raise his hand. Her knees shook as she valiantly resisted the urge to close them, instinctively knowing that would bring on a far worse spanking. The firelight reflected off the polished smoothness of the leather as it paused in mid-air. Then in a flash it descended.
The sound of leather hitting skin resonated through the quiet room.
Emma cried out at the searing, sharp sting. It felt like a thousand heated pin pricks. After a few moments, the stinging ebbed into a scorching pulse.
Releasing the latigo, Horn turned Emma into his arms. Stroking her hair, he cooed nothings into her ear as he stroked her hair.
The move only confused Emma further. To be cuddled in his strong arms, made her feel protected and safe. Yet he was the one who just caused her pain. Still…was it all just pain?
Horn placed a finger under her chin and raised her tear-streaked face to his gaze. “I need you to do one more thing for me and then I’m going to kiss it and make it all better.”
Emma just stared back in a pain-filled haze.
“My little baby bunny,” teased Horn as he stroked the tip of her nose to get her attention. “I want you to take your hand and place it over your cunny.”
Emma obeyed as if in a daze. Her skin felt hot to the touch.
“Good girl. Now, Emma, do you ever touch yourself? Late at night? Under the covers? In that secret naughty place you are holding now?”
Emma blushed and tried to lower her head.
“Don’t lie to me,” he warned. “You already know the punishment for lying.”
After sending him a pleading look with her eyes, Emma hesitantly shook her head yes.
“Use your words.”
“Yes,” she choked out, barely above a whisper.
Horn smiled. “Good girl. I want you to touch yourself now. Slide your finger between your cunny lips. Push the tip deep inside.”
Emma started to protest as her cheeks flamed hotly but thought better of it. Tentatively moving her fingers over her heated skin, Emma was surprised to feel how slick and tingly she now felt. No. This wasn’t right. She only felt this way after dreaming about a dashing knight on a white horse or a handsome banker’s son reading her poetry…or…or…a rugged, rough-spoken man who stole her breath with passionate kisses and her sanity with confusing punishments that were both painful but strangely protective and caring.
Horn enclosed her small wrist with his long fingers. Pulling Emma’s hand free from between her legs, he raised it high. The light of the fire glowed on the dew gleaming from her fingertips.
