Widows, Whiskey and Willow Switches

The antler handle was elegantly carved to fit his hand. Braided leather tails fell from the handle and shone wickedly in the waning sunlight. She shivered and lowered her head, unwilling to look at it. He pulled hairpins free, allowing her long curls to trail down her back. With one hand, he tugged her hair, forcing her to look up as he held that cruel whip in front of her face.

"You will count every single stripe out loud. They won't be subtracted from what you owe unless you open that pretty mouth and say the numbers, Mrs. Walsh."

She opened her mouth to scream at him, deny him, say something that would stop his madness, but he laid a hand over her lips. "That smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. I suggest you close it until I'm finished telling you how it's going to be."

Bending forward, he untied her boots and slipped them from her feet. Tying the laces together, he suspended them from a tall branch, well out of her reach. "Where was I? Oh, yes." He squatted on his heels in front of her. "I know you well enough to be sure that you'll earn yourself more stripes on top of what you've got coming for running off. I'll be using my belt for those, and you'll still get your ten stripes with the quirt."

Teasing a curl away from her face, he trailed a hand down her cheek. "The most important thing you have to remember is that I don't take any pleasure from punishing you, but you'll get every single one you earn." Letting her hair go, he asked, "Do you have any questions?"

Her throat was dry and she had to cough to get the words out. She tried to refuse the canteen he held for her, but he caught her hair and forced her to drink. Water trickled down her chin when he pulled it away. "What do I have to do?"

He smiled, looking for a moment like he was a normal, sane man with a new bride. "All you have to do is be a wife. Be a good girl and obey my wishes." He stroked her arm and his eyes darkened when she shuddered. "You've been married already. You know what you have to do."

Her lips parted as if she would speak. She shook her head and closed her mouth, leaving him to wonder what she'd planned to say. Maybe she was learning better manners. Time would tell on that. He untied her feet and helped her up. He rubbed her arms to get her blood moving and scowled down at her icy hands. The ropes had cut into her flesh, leaving her wrists raw and swollen.

He pulled his knife free and she flinched when the cold blade touched her skin. "Hush. I'm just cutting you free. I'll do something else to keep you from running off."

She held still, though he could feel the tension in her body as he cut through the ropes. It made him sad that she didn't trust him not to cut her. They were even on that. He didn't trust her not to run off at the first opportunity.

She rubbed her wrists, trying to ease the chafed skin. "May I have my skirt back, please?"

"Yes, but not tonight." He wrapped a hand around her neck and marched her toward a tree, positioning her hands on the trunk so that she was bent at the waist. She let out a soft whimper as he nudged her feet apart with his boot. "Point your toes in, and don't move until we're finished."

He loosened the quirt and snapped it, watching as she jumped at the loud report. "What else do you have to do, Abby?"

"You said I have to count." Her voice was soft and he had to lean close to hear her.

"Good girl. Now, relax and make sure to speak up. It'll be over before you know it." The position he'd put her in kept her from tightening her muscles. He kneaded her round bottom, preparing his target. When her flesh turned a blushing pink with increased circulation, he stepped back and lifted his quirt.

He put some force behind the first stroke and she hissed in a breath when the lash fell against her bottom. A pink stripe welled, decorating the upper curve of her pretty ass. "If you don't tell me the number, I'll start over," he warned.

"One." He could barely hear her murmured whisper.

"Louder." The second stripe bloomed just below the first.

"Two."

"Good girl." He set the next three in rapid succession, wondering if she would keep up. Her voice broke, but she managed to get all three numbers.

Tears thickened her voice on six and seven, and she sobbed for eight and nine. He put a little extra strength into the last one, wanting the punishment to stick.

"Ten!"

She screamed out the last number and collapsed to her knees. Tearing sobs shook her small frame and he cooed as he stroked her bottom. Her flesh burned against his palm. He hadn't broken her skin, but the marks would stay for a day or two. He'd purposely concentrated his blows in a small area, wanting a fresh canvas for the next day's work.

He picked her up and carried her to the fire, settling down with her perched on his knees. He stroked her back, feeling her shiver under the thin cotton of her bodice. "That's a good girl. Now, thank me for your punishment and apologize for running away."

She didn't look at him as she muttered the words exactly as he'd said them, and he knew she didn't mean it. Maybe her apology would be real after he painted the rest of her ass and thighs with stripes.

He nudged her from his lap and pulled the rabbit off the fire. It smelled delicious and his stomach growled. Dividing it between two plates, he handed one to her, but she didn't accept it.

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry."

"Eat your supper, Abby. You don't want another punishment tonight."

She grimaced as she picked up her plate. Shifting nearly constantly to ease the pressure on her bottom, she choked down several small bites before shaking her head. "I'm sorry. It's fine. I just don't want it."

He'd hoped she would eat more, but shrugged as he took her plate. "All right. You can get ready for bed, then. Take off your bodice and stays and lay them by my pack. I'll give you a few minutes by yourself to wash up."

"But... Caleb, it's going to get cold tonight! It's bad enough that I don't have a skirt!"

"Exactly. Being bare will keep you from wandering off and I won't have to tie you. Get undressed." He narrowed his eyes as he tapped his belt buckle. "Now, Abby."

Her teeth ground together and he watched in amusement as she spun around. The bodice slipped from her shoulders and she threw it at him, making him catch it before it landed in the fire. Her corset hit him right in the face. She hopped on one foot, then the other as she tugged her stockings from her legs. She spun around and lobbed them at his head, her eyes spitting fire.

"I didn't say you had to take off your stockings, sweetheart." He hid a smile. If she could shoot flames from her eyes, he'd be burned to a crisp.

"They're brand new. I'm not going to tear them up walking around without boots."

She marched toward the creek, ignoring his laughter. She'd always said she wouldn't ever marry again because she hadn't wanted to bury another husband. She'd officially changed her mind. It might be sinful, but she'd dance a damned jig around Caleb Walsh's grave and decorate it with dead weeds.

Once she'd done her business, she gave herself a whore's bath in the creek, wishing it was big enough to bathe in. It was too damned cold for such foolishness, no matter how much she wanted to wash his touch off her skin. Her bottom throbbed and she could feel each stripe ache like a sore tooth.

She couldn't imagine sixteen more days like this. It was beyond her comprehension and she knew she'd have to find some way to escape. Unfortunately, unless she could figure out how to get her clothes, he'd made sure she was stuck with him for tonight. She'd never make it to safety without something to wear. If she didn't freeze to death, there were plenty of unsavory people out there who wouldn't think twice before taking advantage of her.

Shivering, she returned to the fire and bit back an ugly curse when she found he'd lashed their packs in the tree next to her boots. He'd had the presence of mind to stow away everything except the blankets from their bedrolls.

"Get yourself in bed, honey. I won't be long washing up." He held a blanket up and tucked it around her when she slid under it. Stroking her hair, he dropped a kiss on her cheek before striding toward the creek.

Despite the warmth of the scratchy wool covering her, she shuddered with nerves and her belly tumbled. She knew what would come next, and she knew she'd have to give in if she wanted to avoid another punishment. Her bottom simply couldn't take any more, especially knowing she'd be feeling that awful whip again tomorrow.

Too soon, he sauntered toward her, his bare body gleaming in the firelight as droplets of water glistened on his skin. She sent up a small prayer of thanksgiving that he'd bathed before demanding his rights as her husband. His cock swayed between his legs, long and thick. She remembered the feeling of that hardened flesh inside her and her cunny twinged. She ignored the shard of pleasure traveling through her core and prayed that he'd agree to spend himself outside her body. She'd heard that soiled doves used their mouths sometimes. She would do that if it meant she could avoid a pregnancy. She'd never done such a sinful thing, but it couldn't be that hard to figure out.

If she was fortunate, she would continue to be barren. She'd hadn't managed to get pregnant with Matthew, and they'd tried before he'd gotten sick.

Caleb's body was corded with muscle from honest work. Even his belly was ridged with slabs of hardened flesh, honed from labor. Just looking at him made her feel weak and soft, though she'd never considered herself either of those things. She held herself still as he knelt behind her and slid between the blankets.

His body was too hot, giving lie to the chill in the air. She despised herself for wanting to nestle against him and steal some of that warmth for herself.

"Relax, Abby. I'm not going to hurt you."

Helpless tears spilled from her eyes as he laid a hand on her belly, his fingers playing idly with the curls hiding her sex. "You already have, and you're going to keep hurting me every day for the rest of my life."

He steeled himself against her tears. He had to remember that she hadn't wanted to get married at all, and that he'd forced her. While he wouldn't slack off on her punishment, he would do everything in his power to prove to her that he could be a good husband. He would be generous and kind, and swore to himself that he would never discipline her in anger. He'd come too close to that already.

For better or worse, she was his wife. He would ensure her pleasure, but she would do her duty to him tonight and every night of their marriage. She didn't protest when he rolled her to her back and clenched her eyes shut when he spread her legs apart and settled between her thighs. He kissed her gently, tickling the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth.

She allowed his touch, but didn't return his affections. When he lifted his head, she turned her face away. Sitting up, he stroked his hands down her soft belly, tweaking her nipples until they hardened into peaks and she let out a soft gasp. Her hips bucked when he petted her soft curls and he wanted to smile. His cheer faded when he touched her dry flesh.

This wouldn't do at all. He wanted the wild wanton who had ridden him to completion all those months ago. Remembering the lessons he'd gotten from an Italian whore when he'd been a stripling lad in Boston, he lowered himself between her legs and scooted down until her pretty cunny was level with his face. Inhaling the sweet, musky scent of her, he sucked her pleasure bud into his mouth.

She screamed and tried to escape, tearing at his hair as she jerked his head away from her cunny. "You can't do that! It's dirty!"

"Don't fight me, Abby," he warned. Grabbing her wrists in one hand, he pushed her back down and set to work. The taste of her exploded in his mouth as her flesh grew wet with arousal. She stiffened and cried out when he pushed two fingers into her slippery channel, curving them upward to rub at the place the whore had shown him. Her flesh clenched down on his fingers and he sucked her clitoris into his mouth, dragging her orgasm from her with his hand. He gentled her from the peak with soft licks and kisses, her sweet taste flooding his senses and making his cock hard enough to pound nails.

He ignored his cock in favor of bringing her another orgasm. He hadn't cared much for it with the whore, but with Abby, he could lick her cunny all damned day.

"Please, Caleb."

Her broken whisper undid him and he crawled up her body, bestowing gentle kisses on her flesh as he went. Still holding her hands, he hooked his free arm around one thigh and opened her to his cock. She gasped and her eyes closed as he slid deep inside. His hips jerked as she tightened around him and he had to look away from her flushed face before he spilled inside her like an untried boy.

He flexed his hips, angling himself so he rubbed against that spot inside her. When her hips bucked against him, he moved faster, desperate to give her pleasure once more before he came. He let go of her thigh and reached down to pinch the nubbin at the apex of her sex, rubbing it furiously until she screamed out her release, her inner muscles squeezing him to the point of pain as she dragged his seed from his body.

He groaned as he spilled inside his wife, and his head fell to the crook of her neck as he panted out his release. Letting go of her hands, he stroked his palms over her shoulders and lowered his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

She accepted and even tangled her tongue shyly with his for a single, golden moment. Her eyes flashed open and tears welled. "No," she whispered.

"No, what, sweetheart?"

"Get off me, please!" She struggled under him and almost succeeded in bucking him off.

He pulled out and knelt up. "What's wrong?"

She ignored him and curled into a ball, her prayer barely audible over her tears. "Please, God, let me be barren!"

Without a word, he eased himself out of their bedroll and let her cry herself to sleep.

+++++

A rough hand shook her awake and she sat up, wiping sand from her eyes. Caleb was already dressed and the horses were saddled. He held out an apple and a hunk of yellow cheese. When she took the offerings, he dropped her boots and stockings to the ground next to her.

"Eat and get dressed. You have ten minutes."

She glanced around their camp, but saw nothing aside from the blankets she'd slept in and their horses. Even their fire had been kicked out, the scar erased. "Where are the rest of my clothes?"

"You don't get any. There's still the matter of your daily punishment, and it's the only thing I could think of that will keep you from running off. You should thank me for letting you have your boots."

Without another word, he pulled her to her feet and snatched the blankets. He walked away, rolling them into a single bedroll tied with a bit of string. He leaned up against a tree and uncoiled the whip from his belt. "Best get moving, honey. You have eight minutes. You'll get extra with my belt if you dally too long."

She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. He wasn't listening. He never did. She hoped they didn't pass anyone on the road. She would just die if anyone saw her. Surely, he would relent before they left camp.

Seven minutes later, she gritted her teeth and bent at the waist, putting her palms against the tree. Her feet were shoulder width apart, toes pointed in, exactly as he'd placed her the night before.

"Good girl." He patted her hip like she was an obedient horse and massaged her sore bottom, exactly as he'd done the night before. She let her head fall forward, the humiliation too much to bear. "Don't forget to count. Start at eleven."

The whip whistled and she bit her lip as the fire burned her bottom. "Eleven," she gritted out. She would not cry this time, or any other. She'd spent all the tears she could afford on Caleb Walsh.

By fifteen she was rethinking that oath, but reminded herself that she'd been strong enough to travel from Kansas City to Oklahoma by herself. And by the time she said twenty, her voice was strong and calm. It hurt like the dickens, but she would survive it. Turning to stare at him, she stood up and realized that if she'd been strong enough to bury one husband and start over, she could do it again.

"Go wash up. You have five minutes before we ride."

She gritted her teeth at the thought of sitting a horse. "I doubt riding will be very comfortable."

Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "Don't matter none to me. Walk if it makes you happier."

"Without clothes?" She shot a quick glance toward the horses and found her Winchester stowed safely in Sampson's saddle holster. If only she could reach it...

"Your choice. Ride with a blanket and my coat wrapped around you, or walk like you are. Just hurry it up. We're burning daylight."

She turned around and marched to the stream. If her erstwhile husband wanted a fight, he was going to get one.

+++++

He hadn't liked that look in her eye. Not one bit. The little minx was up to something. His whip had bitten into the fleshy part of her bottom, just below his first punishment, and the stripes blended together in a patchwork pattern. Today, at least, she wouldn't have too much difficulty with riding. It would be a different story when he started work on her lower buttocks and thighs.

He'd intended part of her punishment to be sitting a horse after her whipping. It hadn't occurred to him she'd call his bluff. She retrieved a few of her hairpins from the ground where he'd dropped them and secured her sunny curls in a knot at her nape. If she hadn't been bare assed naked, she'd look like a stern schoolmarm.

He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the item he'd worked on while she slept. He'd modified a bit of chain to fit around her neck. It wouldn't hurt her like the rope had, but would allow him to keep hold of her while he slept.

"Turn around and hold still." He relished her low growl when he wrapped the chain around her neck and closed an open link around the free ends to fit it to her throat, squeezing the metal together with a pair of pliers. He turned her around and tugged it, ignoring her hateful glare.

"Are you finished?" she hissed. "As you say, we're burning daylight." Without another word, she stepped around him and turned her gaze northwest toward Pueblo.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a soft breath before mounting his horse. He caught the lead on her gelding and set out for home. She moved to walk in front of him, her long legs setting a quick pace. He wondered how long she could keep up. Surely, she'd get tired sooner or later. He was torn between wanting to keep watching her pretty bottom and wanting to cover her up against anyone who might see her.

He thought for sure the embarrassment of walking naked across the prairie would get to her before they went too far. The stripes on her ass teased him and his swollen balls rubbed uncomfortably against his saddle. Shaking his head, he realized that had been her intent.

The sun was high overhead before he called a halt at a swift running stream. The horses needed a rest, and so did he. Sweat trickled down the back of Abby's neck, dampening the few curls that had sprung loose from their pins. She never once complained, though. He tossed her an apple and she caught it from the air before moving downstream to eat it under the shade of a walnut tree.

When she reached the shade, he frowned at how red her shoulders and face were, cursing when he realized his ploy had gotten her a good sunburn. "Infernal woman! Stubborn as a damned mule." He leaned down and dampened his kerchief in the stream, hoping the cool water would give her some relief from the burn.