Bouncing along on the back of the old nag the Stanton stable had sold her was an ordeal,and with a red and burning bottom, it was agony. She tried a posting trot, but after a while, her thigh muscles began to burn. Damn that man! If he hadn’t spanked her like a naughty child that morning, this would have been a piece of cake. Granted, there was no way he could have known she’d be trotting cross country on horseback, but she was incensed with him all the same.
Upon rising that morning, Clint had escorted her to the common bathroom down the hall and waited for her to attend to her morning ablutions. Upon returning to their room, instead of packing as she’d expected, he’d sat on the bedside and crooked his finger at her. When she approached, he upended her over his lap, her belly meeting his hard thighs and his hand raising her skirts in the back.
“Clint, please. The other boarders will hear.”
“They’re down at breakfast and unless you cut a shine like the last time, they’ll be none the wiser.” As he spoke, he laid her skirts over her back. When he pulled the drawstring on her drawers, her hand flew back in self-preservation.
“Hands stay out of the way, Em.” He caught her hand and pinned it against her back before he whisked her drawers down one-handed. His open-palmed swat zinged against her bare bottom.
“Clint!” This felt much different without the padding of her clothes. It stung dreadfully.
“No matter your protests or tears, you are getting spanked for your impulsive behavior and disobedience. So hush, unless you want your fellow boarders to know.” He handed her a pillow. “Muffle the sound with this if you can’t help crying out.”
He swatted her again, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the room. She wanted to ask what he suggested to muffle that sound, but not being entirely foolish, she didn’t.
Mortified, she bit her lip, determined to remain silent. He was relentless as smack after stinging smack bounced off her behind.
After what seemed like forever, he paused. Thank the good Lord! Then his hand rubbed against her warm skin, his fingers wandering over even more intimate areas. She stiffened. His attentions were producing quite a different kind of burning, both intriguing and pleasant. Oh dear, how can that be? Her lips parted upon a quick intake of air, suddenly breathless. She wiggled beneath his hand, the sensations he was evoking very similar to what he had created last night.
“Be still, Emmalee. We’re halfway there.”
“Halfway!” she gasped in alarm. “Surely that is sufficient, Clint. I’m on fire.”
“I decide what is sufficient, sweetheart. I want you to learn a lesson from this.”
“It’s highly unlikely I will forget!”
She thought she heard a chuckle, but Clint resumed the swats right then and she couldn’t be sure. He continued with the same intensity as before, but the experience had changed for her; although her bottom stung terribly, the tingling warmth between her thighs made everything ever so much better. It was a paradox, and something she couldn’t even begin to explain.
After what seemed like a hundred swats, but probably wasn’t even close to being half that, Clint stopped. After stroking her burning cheeks for a bit, he suddenly turned her upright.
The quick change of position made her head spin. Or maybe it was the proximity of her husband, her bare bottom rubbing against his trousers, or his hands at her waist. She breathed out a juddery moan.
“Remember the sting in your bottom when you think to disobey me in the future.”
He thought her moan was from the spanking; well, it was, but not for the reason he thought. It wasn’t from the sting in her bottom, which was there, no denying. It was more from the tremendous heat that pervaded her entire nether region, which had left her panting, moaning and wiggling. Of course, she couldn’t tell him that. God forbid. She bit her lip, as she suppressed a trill of giddy laughter. For him to think her amused by his punishment or to acknowledge the extent of her arousal from the spanking would be a huge mistake, she was sure. So she nodded silently instead, letting him think what he would.
“Answer me verbally, please.”
Drat! He was unbelievably demanding. With a deep inhalation to center herself, she answered, “I’ll remember this spanking the next time I think of going against your wishes. I swear.” Good heavens! Her words came out breathy and broken to her own ears; what would he think?
“Aw sweetheart, this was your first real spanking. It’s understandable if you cry.”
She turned her face into his shirt, hiding. Now she felt guilty for misleading him, but that was absurd.
“Looking back, can you see the wisdom in my orders?”
Actually, she couldn’t. Her plan was going along fine until fate and nature intervened. Foolishly, her head all a muddle, she didn’t hesitate or even think before she answered. “It’s not my fault the train derailed. I would have made it to Cheyenne without mishap if it weren’t for that darn flash flood.”
He tensed, sitting silently for a moment, so long, in fact, that she peeked at him to see what was wrong. His face was dark with anger and his brows were furrowed into a brooding look.
“You haven’t learned anything at all.”
“But—”
“You feel the end justifies the means.” He captured her chin. “Dammit, Emmalee, what am I supposed to do about that?”
Spank me, love me and take me with you, she thought. But unfortunately, he’d done none of those things. Instead, he lifted her off his lap and stood. Gathering up his newly purchased saddle bags, he packed in silence as Emmalee looked on. Having adjusted her clothes, she stood out of the way, wringing her hands. Now that the sensual moments of intimacy had passed, she felt the burn in her bottom more intensely, but the tightness in her chest caused her more discomfort. He was angry and disappointed, and that hurt her more than the spanking ever had.
“Honey, I’m sorry.” Her voice shook with tears. She’d tolerated twenty smacks of his palm, but his words of disappointment pained her more deeply. “Please, don’t leave angry.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Emmalee. While I’m gone, think about what kind of marriage you want to have. The choice is simple: we can have one of distrust, lies and trickery, or one based on honesty, trust and mutual respect. Think long and hard about it, because if it’s the former, it will be quite unpleasant for both of us.”
“I don’t want the former, Clint. I want to be a good wife, I swear.”
Finished, he slung the packed leather bags over one shoulder and turned to her. “I’m sure you do, sweetheart. You are still very young. You’re also naïve and idealistic. You don’t realize the repercussions of your rash behavior sometimes. We’ll establish some rules when I get back. Now give me a kiss goodbye.”
She moved toward him. When she was still a foot away, he grabbed her and pulled her close for a scintillating goodbye kiss.
“Behave and remember what I told you, Mrs. Ryan. I’ll wire when I get to Denver.”
“Please be careful, Clint.”
“Always. I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too.”
Just Right!
