Surrendered on the Frontier (10 page)

I cast my eyes down. He had a point.

He jerked my head up to meet him again with his fingers under my chin. “Why did you run?”

Well, that was easy. “Because I knew you’d spank me, and I didn’t want a spanking.”

Amusement flitted across his features though he remained stern, the barest trace of amusement. “Honey, if I decide you’re getting a lickin’, you can run, and you can hide, but there’s one thing you can count on. I’ll lay you across my knee sooner or later, and you’ll not only get the lickin’ you deserve, you’ll answer for the chase. You mark me, woman. Don’t you
ever
run from me again.”

I cast my eyes down, suddenly repentant for acting like such a child all along.

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled. I needed him to fix this.

“Ruth.”

I looked back up at him and nodded.

He leaned in, his voice even lower, not much above a harsh whisper. “Remove your clothes.”

I gasped. “All of them, sir?” My heart galloped in my chest.

One hand reached out and threaded his fingers through the messy knot of hair before tugging.

“
All of them
.”

* * *

My hands shook as I slowly began to undress, layer upon layer of my clothing falling off my shoulders, over my head, down around my ankles. I took my dress and laid it over the back of the chair next to him, followed by my petticoats and stays, and stockings. When I got down to my undergarments, my stomach began to clench. When I was divested of all my clothing, I would be punished. Slowly, with his eyes never leaving me, I pushed my undergarments off until I stood in front of him completely bare.

He crooked a finger at me.

My stomach churning, legs trembling, I choked in a breath. I’d forgotten to breathe.

When I stood in front of him, he grasped my wrist and yanked me even closer so that my naked form pushed against his inner thighs.

“Tell me, Ruth,” he said, eyes steely and unwavering, his voice almost harsh. “Tell me why I’m punishin’ you.”

I swallowed and took a deep breath. “I hid from you. I struck you. And then I ran.”

He nodded slowly. “And are those the actions of a full grown woman, young lady?”

I felt ashamed and shook my head. “No, sir.”

A finger under my chin brought my eyes back to his. “And what should I do about this, little girl?”

I closed my eyes briefly, inhaling again. I hated having to say it aloud. Opening my eyes, I spoke, my voice just a whisper. “Punish me.”

He nodded slowly, and to my relief he didn’t make me ask him, or instruct me to lie over his knee. He simply lifted me and placed me belly down exactly where he wanted me. To my surprise, though I still feared the pain of being punished, I also felt something different. As my bare stomach hit his fully clothed thighs, as I felt one firm hand against my lower back, I closed my eyes. In the momentary prelude to my chastisement, what I felt then surprised me.

Relief.

“I’m half tempted to cut a switch or use my belt,” he said. “You’ve done wrong, and I’m none too pleased.”

I nodded silently.

“Should I cut a switch or use my belt, little Ruth?”

I was surprised he asked me. I needed him to punish me, and we both knew it. Though those options sounded awful, I said what I truly felt. I needed things to be right again. I needed his arms around me in comfort, not restraint.

“I’ll take whatever you think I deserve.”

“Good answer,” he said, and that was my only warning. I gasped as his large hand descended with a loud smack that echoed in the room.

Another hard swat followed another, and another, until my skin was aflame and the pain nearly unbearable. It hadn’t hurt this much before, but this time I was bare, and he was relentless. I tried to take my spanking bravely, but one searing swat across my upper thighs made me cry out. I scissored my legs, consumed by the pain, but he was ready. One heavy leg trapped mine so that now I straddled only one knee, my bare bottom fully exposed and vulnerable. He took my hands and pinned them to my lower back.

“Whatever it takes,” he growled. He paused, several seconds between each swat, before resuming with renewed vigor. “To show you I’ll not put up with sass, or games, or disrespect.”
Swat.
“To show you I
care
.” The swat that landed next was the hardest he’d ever given me.

His words along with the pain broke through my stubborn pride, and I began to cry, slowly at first, as he continued to spank me. My skin was on fire, the pain intense. The seconds of pause in between each firm swat of his hand made me hold my breath in anticipation of the inevitable strike of his palm. He did not slow, but spanked me in earnest. Two rapid swats landed on the center of my bottom. I squirmed, wriggling nearly off his lap but he held fast. His hand continued to fall. The spanking would never stop. I would be over his knee forever. I could not stop him any more than I could stop the clock from ticking, or the sun from shining. So I did the only thing I could do. I surrendered.

I lay as still as possible over his knee, doing my best to accept the punishment I knew I deserved. I sank into my state of submission. As the painful torrent continued, there was nothing on my mind now but accepting each rise and fall of his hand. I could hardly bear the pain, but I knew I needed to surrender.

It seemed Samuel knew as well, for it was at this point he paused, and his hand caressed my flaming hot skin. “My strong, brave girl,” he said. “You’re a good girl, takin’ your punishment. I’m proud of you givin’ yourself over to me like this. But I’m not done, little Ruth. Not until you know runnin’ from me ain’t an option.”

His hand was so large he covered my naked skin with one sound swat. I heard the slap of his palm on my bare skin echo in the cabin right as another lick landed, followed by another.

Runnin’ from me ain’t an option.

I’d run from the only person who’d ever taken the time to chase me.

My body went limp. His hand stilled as I wept. He released my hands and I felt one warm hand rest on my back as the other began to gently massage my hot skin. It was painful to the touch, but the feel of his hand on my skin, intimate and soothing, was welcome.

“Have I made my point, little Ruth?”

I was now crying so hard I couldn’t staunch the tears. “You have,” I sniffled. “Yes, sir. Samuel, I’m sorry,” I wailed. “I’m so sorry.”

His large, callused hand continued to caress the surface of my hot, punished bottom.

I hiccupped, swiping a hand across my face, and repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

His hand traveled from the top of my bottom down to my thighs, pausing to massage where he’d spanked me. “You’re forgiven,” he said in a low murmur. “C’mere, honey.”

He turned me over on his lap, holding me tightly and cradling me, my head upon his chest. I cried softly, my eyes closed, as he rocked me.

“Shhh, honey,” he said softly. “It’s forgiven now. All is forgiven, little Ruth, my sweet little Ruth.” His tender tone and gentle words made me cry even harder. He’d been stern, and he’d spanked me soundly, my bottom an aching reminder of his love for me. He would not let me run. He would come for me.

I knew that having finally submitting myself to him had done something to the shackles that surrounded me, the shackles of self-doubt and anger. In that moment, I did not think about my past. I did not think about the future. I thought about nothing but being held by him, while my tears flowed freely. I thought about the way his mouth met mine, and how nice it felt, as I ached not just from my punishment, but now with need. I needed his hands on me.

He rose, carrying me, his mouth still upon mine as we kissed. I moaned into his mouth, and he walked faster, laying me gently on the bed, placing kisses upon my damp cheeks, along my temples, down my neck and to my shoulder, his kisses gentle caresses. He pulled me onto his chest and held me as my tears slowed and finally stopped. Running a hand from the top of my head down to my bottom, he gently stroked. Again, his hand traveled the length of my naked body, over the smooth curve of my hip, past the flatness of my stomach, slowly caressing the soft, full swell of my breast. My chest rose as we kissed again, as I thoroughly enjoyed the claiming touch of his rough hand against my bare skin. I whimpered with need as heat lapped at my core. He’d already marked me. Now I wanted more.

His mouth left mine and dipped low, his tongue flicking to my nipple. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed with the sensation. One of his hands dove between my legs and his finger dipped low, plundering my sex. I moaned. The feeling was exquisite as his tongue continued the torturous, heavenly assault on my breast, his fingers knowing just how to probe and stroke. It would not be long before I would be soaring in ecstasy. The sensation of my punished skin in sharp contrast to the building heat between my legs had me gasping, writhing, eyes closed against the brilliance of it all, and I knew now why the French called my mounting pleasure
la petit morte
. My ecstasy was so divine, I’d have died to have my needs met, and I’d have died a happy woman.

Just as I was about to topple over the edge in ecstasy, his mouth left my breast. I nearly gasped from the shock of it, immediately feeling the loss. But he was not finished. He moved himself down the bed until his mouth was between my legs. His tongue flicked out, circling my sensitive nub. He sucked, then pulled back, the gentlest touch of the tip of his tongue lapping at me. I could hardly stand it. After just a few delicious, perfect strokes of his tongue, I was soaring.

I’d never experienced anything like it. My emotional surrender and the harshness of the spanking had brought all my feelings to the surface. I was primed. My hips jerked as I gave into wave upon wave of pleasure. My heart thundered in my chest, my entire body aflame with brilliant rapture, as I screamed his name, clenching the quilt beneath my hands, the intensity lasting so long I couldn’t breathe. As I finally settled back down, he was standing in front of me, stripping himself. He lowered himself down to me, and I opened my legs, so eager to unite with him, eager to have him enter me. My head fell back on the pillow, again overcome with the welcome feeling of bliss as his hardness sought my core, thrusting into me.

He filled my core. Every stroke, every thrust felt exquisite, the burning need to be fully owned by him being met with each jerk of his hips. I knew he was meeting his own ecstasy when his hands fisted, holding me beneath him so hard it was almost fierce, until finally his head dropped to my chest.

But even as I felt that he’d finally claimed what I offered, I wondered how we would be welcomed by everyone. What would his family say if they knew that he and I were intimate without being married? Would they want such a strong, capable, intelligent man to be partnered with a woman who was no better than damaged goods? Would their goodness to me change if they knew what was between us?

The quiet aftermath of our lovemaking was enough for me, for today. But as he held me I couldn’t help but feel it was only for a short time. Surely, this couldn’t last. I wasn’t good enough for him. Not for his family, and certainly not as his future wife.
I needed to be held by him for just a moment longer, for I feared that when he released me, I would no longer be his.

* * *

We lay in bed for some time before Samuel let me up.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he murmured. “But I have work to do, and your Hannah will be due back any minute. I best be gettin’ home. Need to finish my work today, before supper time.”

I nodded, covering myself with my blanket. “I’ve missed everyone,” I said. “Especially Ma and Pearl. Is Pearl there today?”

His eyes grew strangely guarded then as he dressed himself. I watched him work his jaw as he buttoned up his shirt. “Might be,” he said. “Though Pearl’s not been visiting much lately.”

I sat up, swinging my legs over the bed. The sting in my bottom was intense, and I winced, but if he noticed, he was unrepentant. “Why hasn’t she been around?” I asked as I stepped into my clothing. I pulled my petticoats over my head, and his voice was muffled. My head emerged. “What was that?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, you know her time is coming soon,” he said.

I nodded. I did know. She was ready to have her baby within weeks, and it was hard for her to get around. He continued. “Aaron wants her home.”

“Well, I understand,” I said, pulling on my dress next and smoothing it out. As I covered myself in the layers of fabric, I wondered briefly what it would be like to wake up next to Samuel in the morning. But I shoved the thought away. “I should go on over and visit,” I said. “Bring her some food. She must be awfully uncomfortable at this point.”

I’d blocked many memories from my mind, but I remembered giving birth to Hannah vividly, as it was one of the happiest moments of my life. I felt wistful, remembering those early days when I’d nestle my sweet baby to my bosom, rocking her in my chair. Those were the days when I still thought of my husband as a somewhat decent man. He’d prove otherwise.

Samuel’s back was toward me now as he bent and reached for his boots. He sat heavily in a chair at the table, still turned away from me. “Well, now, Ruth, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

I was lacing up my own boots now. “And why is that?”

He cleared his throat. “Aaron won’t want you coming by.”

I felt the breath whoosh out of me and a sudden chill descend. “He won’t?”

Samuel turned to face me and shook his head. “Now, Ruth, don’t despair,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll come around eventually.”

My chest constricted and I felt a helpless sort of ache in my gut. “I’m not allowed to be her friend anymore?” I whispered.

Samuel shook his head sadly. “Now, honey, it’s not forever. Just for now. He’ll change his mind, no doubt. Just give it time, Ruth. He’s being unreasonable with the baby about to come.”

If I’d had any fight left in me at that point, I’d have cried all over again, but I didn’t. I felt defeated. “So he’s not allowing her to go to Ma’s?” I asked. “He’s angry with me for what I did?”