Widows, Whiskey and Willow Switches

The distillery itself had been a mess. It was filthy and stank of rotted stillage. It had taken them weeks to clean up. Tony had been a godsend and was well on the mend from his injuries, thanks to Caleb's skills. Benjamin made noises about destroying her business, but the heart had gone out of him when Martha up and left him to return to her family in Virginia. He slunk out of town himself a few weeks later, and nobody missed him.

Caleb had given up his future for her, sacrificing his dreams to make her happy. She could barely countenance such a thing, but he woke every day with a smile on his face after pleasuring her all night. Everything was perfect, and she knew she loved him as deeply as she had Matthew. The love might be different, but it was no less strong.

They led different lives. He treated patients in an office down the street from Archie's, while she labored in the brewing rooms, yet there was no dearth of conversation and time together. Instead of work, they talked about literature, art, and many other things over supper cooked by Tony's wife. They went to plays and parties, galleries and musicales. All in all, it was a rich, satisfying existence in a white clapboard saltbox house just outside of town.

He was uncharacteristically silent one evening after their cook had left for her own home. He kept looking at her as if he would speak, but held his peace. It was almost bedtime before she gathered up the nerve to ask him his troubles.

There were so many things that could have gone wrong. He could be upset at her failure to get pregnant, or he might have come to resent her for the loss of his life savings. Thanks to Benjamin's mismanagement, it would be months before the distillery started showing a profit. He might simply have grown tired of her not being a good housewife. Her belly tumbled uncomfortably and she laid a hand on her abdomen to still the butterflies.

She'd already changed into her nightgown and braided her hair for the night. Caleb was in bed, reading a medical journal. She sat down next to him and laid a hand over his page. "Will you tell me what's bothering you?"

He closed his book and leaned against the headboard of their bed, his warm brown eyes meeting hers. "It's April twenty-first, a year to the day since the first time I laid eyes on you, and I realized this morning that I'd forgotten a promise I made to you."

"No, you haven't! You've kept every single promise you've ever made!"

He smiled gently and tugged her braid, pulling her close to him. "Except one. I failed to keep one promise."

She shook her head. "I..."

"I promised to give you a stripe for every day that you were away from me, and by my calculations, we still have one hundred and fifty to go. It is the only promise I've ever broken, and I can't decide how I feel about it."

His strong arms wrapped around her and he kissed her hair. "Don't fret. I've got you now, and we're happy together. You tell me you love me every day, and better yet, you show me. I can live with that one broken promise."

She shook her head and wriggled from under his arm. He might be able to make peace with his failure to keep his promise, but she couldn't. Not after he'd done so much for her. Her hands fell to the hem of her nightgown and she lifted it over her head.

"What are you doing, Abby?"

"I want you to keep your promise. Ten strokes every day for the next fifteen days."

"I'm not asking you to do that. Put your gown back on." He turned away from her and picked up his book.

"You've given me so much, Caleb!" She climbed back on the bed and rested on her knees facing him. "And having to go back to doctoring! I want to..."

He scowled and opened his book. "You don't owe me a damned thing, and I'm certainly not going to whip because you feel the need to whore yourself..."

Her hand met his cheek in a stinging slap that made her palm hurt. "Don't you ever say that to me again!" She leaped out of bed and tugged her nightgown over her head, still glaring at him. "I didn't offer because I think I owe you, you damned fool man! I offered because I want to help you keep your promise. I want you to feel right and whole, and if finishing that damned whipping will do that, then that's what I'll do because I love you. And if you're so damned pigheaded you can't see that..."

"Abby..."

Ignoring him, she scrubbed angry tears from her face. "Well. If you can't see that, then I don't know what else to say."

He stood up and grabbed her neck, squeezing just hard enough to let her know he wouldn't let go. "Ten with a strap for cussing, and then you'll get your ten with the quirt. I'm going to forgive the slap because I insulted you and I shouldn't have. Take off your nightgown and bend over the bed, feet apart, toes pointed in."

She stared at him in surprise, and a little fear. Maybe she'd been too hasty, and she probably shouldn't have slapped him.

"Now, Abby. I know you like that nightgown. It would be a shame to have it ripped up."

She jumped to obey as he rummaged in the bottom drawer of their dresser, retrieving a leather strap and that evil quirt. He turned around and glanced pointedly at their bed. She hurried to get into position, even though every inch of her backside dreaded the coming stripes. It would be worth it though. Every last one would be worth it to make him smile again.

Caleb rubbed her bottom, his warm hand caressing her flesh as she relaxed into his touch. It was going to hurt, but she didn't care. He loved her and that was all that mattered.

"You don't have to count these, but..."

"I have to count the ones with the quirt, starting with twenty-one."

"Good girl." The first blow with the strap fell and she tried not to flinch. It hurt, but as her punishment continued, her bottom got hot, the sensation traveling down into her core. Her cunny tightened and she felt a trickle of moisture leak down one thigh. How was it that a lashing with a strap could make her aroused? Maybe it was the loving touch of the man wielding the leather.

She let out a squeak as he delivered the last blow to the crease between her bottom and thighs. That one hurt, but she didn't object. This was too important for her to be a coward about a little whipping.

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart." He dropped a kiss to the base of her spine and she shivered. "Are you ready for the rest?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. What number will you start on?"

"Twenty-one, sir."

"Good girl."

Back in October, he'd started at the top of the fleshy part of her bottom, working his way down. This time, the lash fell right on her sit spots. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to hold still. "Twenty-one."

The whip fell again, just below the first, and her hands clenched in the bedding. "Twenty-two."

Tears pricked her eyes and she sniffed at the third stripe on the tops of her thighs. Her knees shook and she tried desperately to keep them steady. "Twenty-three."

The next blows fell as he methodically painted her backside with raised stripes. She never once lost count, even when she lost control and let the tears fall.

The last one fell and she collapsed to the bed, whispering, "Thirty. Thank you for my punishment, sir. I'm sorry for running away."

"Oh sweetheart." He lifted her up and put her on the bed on her belly. She snuggled her face into his pillow, inhaling his musky scent as she tried to stop crying. She didn't want him to see her tears and feel bad. The whipping had been her choice.

"Stay there. I'll be right back."

He returned a few minutes later and she hissed at the touch of a cold cloth on her backside. "Let that sit a few minutes, and I'll tuck you into bed."

She nodded against his pillow and he settled down next to her, stroking the damp tendrils of hair out of her face.

"Was it worth it, honey?"

"Yes. Worth every stripe," she muttered. "And it's only fourteen more days."

"We don't have to finish." He was silent for a moment. "Hell, I'm not sure I want to."

She rolled over to face him and touched his face. "You have never once broken a promise, even when I didn't like it. If you don't finish, it will eat at us both, and I won't have it."

Pulling him toward her, she kissed him, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip until he returned the kiss. He growled and tugged her against him as he traced her lips with his tongue and explored her mouth.

He let her go and she gasped for breath. His kisses always drove her mindless. "I'll make you a promise, too." She kissed his jaw and stroked his cock, purring in delight as it hardened in her palm. "I promise not to cuss until after the fourteen days are up."

"Aw hell, honey. I'm going to have to listen extra close for those cuss words." He grabbed her hands and settled himself between her thighs, desperate to taste the wetness glistening on her curls. She was so sweet on his lips. He loved pleasuring her with his tongue.

"Caleb!"

He grinned against her warm heat. He especially loved it when she screamed his name as he raked that little spot at the top of her channel with his fingertips. When she tightened around him, he pulled away and turned her over. He didn't want her to come just yet.

"Up on your knees, sweetheart."

She whimpered, but obeyed, lowering her chest to the bed. He loved the way her back arched into the swell of her backside. She was lush and beautiful. Titian would have been overjoyed at the prospect of putting her image on canvas. "Spread your knees."

"Please. I need..."

"I know. Be patient and you'll get it. Now spread those thighs and show me your pretty cunny."

Her legs parted and he laid a hand on her wet flesh. She was so warm and his balls clenched at the thought of sinking deep inside her. She shrieked when he delivered an open-handed slap to her sopping cunny. He chucked and set up a slow rhythm on her core, smiling as her screams turned into low, pleasured moans. He kept his blows soft; this wasn't a punishment. The blows would only sensitize her, make her maddened and desperate.

"I want... Please, Caleb!"

He laid a gentle hand on her swollen flesh and kissed the dimples at the base of her spine. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

"I want to taste you," she said in a broken whisper. "I need to give you pleasure."

"You're not a soiled dove, darling. You don't have to..."

"I want to. Please let me try." She turned her face toward him and he gave in with a sigh, unable to resist the sight of her tearstained face.

"All right. Turn on your back and let your head hang over the edge of the bed." She looked at him curiously, but obeyed. "Now, spread those pretty thighs so I can see you."

She blushed furiously, but bent her knees and allowed them to fall open. He had to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from coming at the sight of his beautiful wife splayed out like an offering.

"Have you ever done this before?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, sir."

"Fair enough." He lowered his cock to her lips, painting them with the liquid dripping from the bulbous head. She licked her lips, her tongue catching the droplets then opened her mouth for him. He fed himself slowly inside, allowing her time to adjust.

When she lifted her head to take more of him, he groaned and held her face with his hands. "Oh, sweet girl, you're going to take what I give you."

He pushed forward until the head of his cock touched the back of her throat. She coughed around him, but didn't try to pull away as she swallowed. He heard her desperate breaths as he held himself still, desperately trying to control his urge to drive his cock down her throat.

When he tried to pull away, she sank her little claws into his ass and held him still as she worked her tongue on his cock, the muscle flexing to curve around him. She squeezed his ass and swallowed, and his eyes rolled back in his head as she pulled him into her throat.

She let go of his backside with one hand and pressed it between her thighs, working her fingers rapidly over her clit. The sight of her pleasuring herself undid him, and when she stiffened and let out a whimper of completion, there was no holding back.

"God damn it! Abby!" He roared out as the seed welled up from his balls, the fluid spraying down her throat as he came so hard he saw stars. He collapsed to his knees, breathing like a spent horse as she rolled over to face him.

"Did I do it wrong?"

"God... Damn it, Abby! You like to have killed me."

Her face fell and she looked down. "I'm sorry, I..."

"No, honey. It was wonderful. I don't even know what to say, except..." His face hardened. "You shouldn't have known how to do that. Are you sure you want to keep telling me you've never taken a man in your mouth before?"

Her eyes widened and she covered her face with her hands and rolled to her side. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to Jane! Now you're mad."

Sighing, he stood up and helped her get under the covers before joining her. "Damn it all to hell. I don't think I'm going to allow you to talk to Jane without supervision anymore. Her husband would be appalled at what she's sharing with innocent young ladies."

Her voice was husky and soft with sleep. "I'm sure he already knows, Caleb. She must have learned it from him. Besides, I'm closer to thirty than twenty and a few years older than she is."

"Damnation!" He did not need the image of that bear of a man with his manhood down the throat of his tiny blonde wife. He'd never be able to look either of them in the eye again.

"Don't cuss. I'll have to get out your strap." She laughed softly, and added, "Or worse, I won't use her lessons on you again."

He chuckled, too near to sleep to think very hard. "There's only one person in this marriage who will be getting a strap, and I think I'll have to use it often to keep her in line."

"That would be lovely, sir." She shifted against him, lodging her pretty ass against him as he curled himself around her. His cock twitched to life and she chuckled as she bent her knee in welcome.

"Again, Abby?"

"Always. Make love to me, Caleb."

For a woman who hadn't wanted a husband, Abby had turned into a mighty fine wife. As he eased himself inside her, he sent a prayer up to heaven, thanking God for his good fortune as he added another for the tiny Irish boy with measles who had set him on the path to find her. He wondered if the family would like living in Oklahoma.