Rocky Mountain Dawn (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 1) (9 page)

"Your punishment is not over," Johnathan growled. "You could've fallen to your death. You deserve a good caning, but since you are still recovering, I will have to improvise." He glowered at her as if daring her to talk back.

Without a peep, she let him lift her and direct her to the corner.

"Stand there and think on what you've done."

Struggling to catch her breath, she pressed her nose to the wall. Her husband's sternness and punishing hand should've cowed her, but she felt excited instead.

"Hold up your skirts," her husband ordered, and she did so, and a flush stole over her, her body blushing in shame to match her hot red bottom. She knew what he saw: her cheeks red and peeking at him from behind her divided drawers, her hands and nose in place just as he ordered it. Behind her she could hear him moving around, and she wondered what implement of pain he would unearth.

He must have found something, because in a short time, Johnathan took her in hand and led her to the bed. He helped her strip down to corset and drawers, then positioned her over the bed, face down, her legs straight so her bottom presented a perfect target.

Johnathan came beside her and laid a hand on her back. His hand started squeezing her cheeks, and Esther folded her arms above her head and buried her face in them.

"Tell me why you're to receive punishment."

"I climbed a tree."

"You disobeyed me to put your life in danger," Johnathan said, kneading her buttocks. "And a few days ago, you left the room without my permission."

"I only wanted a bath."

Johnathan's hand started tapping her bottom lightly, little smacks that would warm her skin. "Esther, I love your spirit. I just wish you'd temper it with wisdom."

Then her spanking started again. It hurt more than Esther remembered it, but not so much that she couldn't keep from squeaking in pain. Other than a few twitches, she kept still and quiet as Johnathan's hand slapped every inch of her heated skin.

A pause, and then something hard and unyielding smacked her skin. Esther yelped and gripped the quilt to keep her hands from flying back to protect her poor bottom. Glancing back, she saw her husband raise a familiar object high. He was paddling her with her own hairbrush.

The smooth, wooden surface hit her yielding flesh with a satisfying crack, and she jumped as the pain reverberated out from the original point of contact, spreading all over her already toasty cheeks.

"Hold still, Esther. You asked for this."

In no time, Esther was squirming and moaning. "Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Johnathan. I'll never do it again. Please."

With each passing second, the hairbrush seemed to crash down with more force. Johnathan spanked her until she was crying, then laid the painful implement aside and whispering soothing words to her.

"Shhh, Esther, I know you're sorry. You're forgiven."

Even though the punishment stopped, Esther's bottom still throbbed like the hairbrush was still in use. Johnathan stroked her hair while she cried it out. As her sobs quieted, his hand dipped down and explored her lower lips. Sucking in a breath, Esther let her legs fall open even wider.

"Oh, Esther," Johnathan murmured, and fed her his fingers. They were soaking wet, but Esther lapped at them like a cat with cream. "My naughty one. What will I do with you?"

Her husband chuckled and his fingers continued stroking her, before he moved behind her and she heard his clothes drop to the floor.

He pushed into her wetness. Pressing her body against the bed, she thrust her bottom back, inviting him to drive into her from behind, moaning as he did just that. As he moved, his hips slapped her sore cheeks, but the pain only fueled the pleasure and built a torrent of arousal inside her.

Planting one hand on the bed to steady herself, Esther used her other to tug at her corset, struggling to pull it down. Johnathan reached around to help, freeing her breasts, then finding a nipple and rolling it between his fingers.

The pain in her bottom and in her breast swept over her, and her climax followed. Johnathan groaned as her muscles squeezed his cock. When it was done, Esther arched her back and pushed against him with new vigor until he gripped her hips hard and came deep inside her.

"So," she panted while they recovered. "Do you believe me when I say I'm well enough to travel?"

"Esther," her husband laughed against the skin of her neck. "I believe you'll be the death of me."

*****

Before winter, they settled into a little white house in a small outpost between Florence and Royal Gorge. Their friends, the Wilders, lived further west, but with Mary doing poorly, the Shepherd's visited often.

"That Lyle is certainly a fancy fellow," her husband remarked one day. They were down in the kitchen, Esther making a cake to celebrate their first little church service at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. The Wilders were there, and Miles Donovan too, though the latter wasn't speaking to the former, and Mary's cough was much worse. A few miners came, and Johnathan promised to ride out to their camp to lead them in prayer once a week, as well as see to any illness or wounds the rugged men sustained.

In contrast to the mining men, Lyle Wilder looked like a dandy in his fine black vest and coat, his frail and beautiful wife on his arm.

"I prefer someone steady and true." She smiled at her husband. "Like Mr. Donovan. Of course, that man would be handsomer if he smiled. I wonder if we could write home and find a woman to come and be a wife to him."

Johnathan just shook his head at her, and she couldn't resist adding, "A good Christian woman. Someone wise, but young, who will make him laugh."

Her husband dropped his paper. "Esther, leave the poor man alone. Donovan doesn't want a matchmaker."

She turned away to hide her smile. "Oh, but he needs one. You know as well as I, it is not good for a man to be alone."

The kitchen chair scraped back, and she felt her husband's heat at her back before he put his arms around her and sank his head onto her shoulder. "Are you going to be a busybody, or will you listen to your husband and leave Mr. Donovan alone?"

"I don't know," she pretended to think. "I think I was put on this earth to meddle. Stir things up." Sticking her finger into the batter, she gazed at him over her shoulder, and then licked her digit clean.

She reached for a spoon, but he'd already snapped it up, before relieving her of the mixing bowl.

"Lift up your skirts, wife," he ordered, tapping the wooden spoon against one hand. "And bend over the table."

A mischievous light in her green eyes, Esther hurried to obey.

The End

Author's Notes

The story of Esther and Johnathan is loosely based on the real life account of Mary Richardson and Elkanah Walker. In 1837, both Mary and Elkanah wrote separately to the American Mission Board, offering to serve as missionaries. The Board wrote back to Elkanah: "You ought…to have a good, healthy, patient, well-informed, devotedly pious wife. There is a Mary Richardson of Baldwin, Maine, who has offered herself to the Board, but we cannot send her single…If you have nobody in view, you might inquire about her."

Some of the Walker's details I preserved for Esther and Johnathan's story (set much later, in 1858): Mary was the oldest of eleven and attended seminary; Elkanah really was six foot four. After a courtship through letters and a few meetings, Mary was married in black as was her family's tradition. But there the similarities between the two couples end.

We know from Mary's journals that she and Elkanah fell in love, and had seven children and were devoted to each other until death. So even though, outside of a few details, the story of the fictional Shepherds and the real Walkers diverge, both couples have a happy ending.

Personal Note:

In 2010 I suffered shooting pains in my abdomen. After a night of agony, I was alarmed enough to ask for a ride to the hospital, where I was treated for an ectopic pregnancy. According to Web MD, up to one in every fifty pregnancies ends with the egg implanting outside of the womb, in the fallopian tube.

In Esther's time, the death rate for an ectopic or tubal pregnancy exceeded fifty percent. For me, it was a simple surgery. The doctors assured me that I'd still be able to have a normal, healthy pregnancy (they were right!). For Esther, I'm not sure that's the case.

Stay tuned!

Smooches,

Lee

About the Author

Lee spent most of her childhood in a world of her own imagination. After graduating with a degree in creative writing and winning the Hollins fiction prize for her Viking-werewolves-of-9th century-Norway novel (Raven & Wolf), she got a 'real job'. Upon turning thirty, she self published five titles and is happily back to living an imaginary world.

She's super excited about partnering with Blushing to publish her erotic Westerns, and hopes you are enjoying the fictional town of Royal, Colorado as much as she is.

Check out her website to download a free novella or to say hi:
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