Surrendered on the Frontier Page 6

  “I’m all right, Ruth. You didn’t mean to,” she said softly. The fact that she wasn’t angry with me somehow made me feel worse. I wanted her to smack me back, as I deserved some sort of retaliation for what I’d done. “But Ruth, we must do something about this. If Aaron finds out… ohhh,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands. Aaron was so fiercely protective. “He wouldn’t let me see you anymore,” she whispered, her own tears flowing now. “He’d not allow me to visit if he knew you struck me.”

  I covered my face with my hands and wept. What had I done? What could be done to fix this?

  A knock came at the door, and before I could answer, it swung open. Samuel stepped in, removing his hat. “Now, Ruth, I went to check out the beam Matthew mentioned, and I—” He paused as he became aware of the scene in front of him, me kneeling in front of Pearl, her hands up to the pink handprint on her cheek, both of us in tears. “What in tarnation is goin’ on in here?”

  He listened as I blubbered my story to him. “And he’ll never let me see her again,” I wailed at the end.

  He stood with his feet planted apart, his arms across his chest, working his jaw before he spoke. “You all right, Pearl?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I don’t even feel it anymore,” she said. I wondered if she was lying, but I still threw my arms around her and hugged her.

  Samuel nodded. “All right. Looks like this is a case of you oversteppin’ your place, and little Ruth losin’ her temper.” He paused, and his voice deepened. “You both ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” he chided. I had no response. He was right.

  He shook his head. “Pearl, you get on home and tend to that cheek,” he said. “Ma always used a cool cloth if we’d gotten into a fight at school. You rest up. I’ll tend to Ruth, and I’ll also tend to Aaron tonight. All right?”

  Pearl stood, wiping her eyes and sniffling. I stood with her and we embraced.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered in her ear. “Please, won’t you forgive me?”

  “Oh, honey, of course I do,” she whispered back. “It was my own fault for not mindin’ my own business. Aaron would put me over his knee for that alone,” she said with a laugh, kissing my cheek, and heading to the door.

  He’d put her over his knee?

  She left, and Samuel shut the door behind her. He turned slowly to face me, his hands going to his hips. “And what am I goin’ to do with you, young lady?” he asked sternly. This time, I had no smart answer. I could not bring myself to respond. I hung my head in shame as he stalked over to me. One finger placed under my chin, he lifted my face while I tried to blink back the tears that would not stop.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice shaking as I cried. “I feel awful. Just awful.” The anger from earlier, the feeling of helplessness, and the weight that saddled my shoulders seemed insurmountable. I wanted to climb into bed and pull the quilt over my head. I wanted to never get out of that bed again. I deserved to be punished for such a wicked act against my closest friend, and the guilt I felt was consuming me. I covered my face with my hands, tears seeping through my fingers. “She’s so good to me,” I choked, as the tears flowed. “She’s with child, and I struck her. What a wicked, wicked thing. I feel so guilty, Samuel,” I said to him. “I ought to be whipped for such a thing.”

  His arms came around me then, and he pulled me into his chest. One large hand stroked my hair as he held me. “I wouldn’t say whipped,” he said, and his voice was softer than I expected. “But little Ruth, I’ve long since thought that my hand across your backside would do you a world of good.”

  I sniffled onto his chest as he held me. Just now, Pearl had told me Aaron would’ve taken her across his knee. She said it with a laugh, even. Would I feel better if he spanked me?

  He’d told me he wouldn’t raise a hand to me, because of my past.

  But would he if I asked? I pulled back from him.

  “Samuel?”

  He nodded, smoothing the dampened hair back from my forehead.

  “Would you… spank me if I told you that I knew I deserved it? And I wouldn’t… be angry with you? I feel guilty,” I said. “I ought to be spanked.”

  His eyes focused on mine a minute. He was contemplating. He finally spoke after what seemed a very long time.

  “You want me to spank you?”

  I closed my eyes and nodded. I couldn’t look at him.

  “Fair enough,” he said.

  I swallowed, fear racing across my chest and a surprising jolt of arousal at his stern but calm demeanor. “Now?” I whispered.

  He released me, pulled a chair from the table, placed it in the center of the room, and sat heavily, his large legs spread apart. I looked at his lap and wondered what it would feel like to lie across his knees like a naughty child. He would not make me. He would not forcefully pull me across his lap.

  Samuel patted his knee. “Come now, little Ruth,” he said softly. “Come and lay yourself across my knee.”

  He would not force me.

  I would have to do it myself.

  Chapter Four: The Spanking

  Samuel was waiting. As I looked at him sitting in the chair, his brows furrowed and gaze uncompromising, my sex pulsed with need. I shifted uncomfortably.

  He patted his lap again.

  Ever so slowly, I dragged my feet toward him. What was I doing? Why had I asked him to punish me?

  When I reached him, he gently took one of my small hands in his larger one. His voice was low and husky. “You need this, honey,” he whispered. My throat clogged once again from unshed tears, from both the sweet words and the knowledge that he was going to help me. He was right. I needed him to take control.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, one silent tear rolling down my cheek, I lowered myself over his lap. I felt his strong thighs beneath me as the breath whooshed out of me. My feet came straight off the floor as my entire torso spread straight across his lap. He placed one firm hand onto my the small of my back, as the other slowly lifted my skirts. I held my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut. What would it feel like? How badly would it hurt?

  “Young lady, why do I have you across my lap like a naughty little girl?” he asked. My heart thundered in my chest so that I could hardly stand it. This time, hearing young lady felt different. Fitting.

  I swallowed. “I… lost my temper,” I whispered. “I slapped Pearl.” As the words came, so did my tears, flowing more freely now as I said out loud how horribly I’d treated my friend. I felt a breath of air as he finished lifting my skirts, the warmth of his palm on the thin cotton of my undergarments. I’d been bared to him before, but this was somehow more embarrassing and I wasn’t even bared. I felt his hand raise, then the first hard smack of his palm fell across my backside. It hurt more than I’d expected it to, and I was both humbled by the correction and astounded he’d actually spanked me that hard. The sound of the slap resonated in the cabin. I gasped, but stayed over his lap. I’d asked him to spank me. He was too tall for me to touch the floor in front of me, so I gingerly grasped his legs. I would take my punishment.

  Another hard swat fell, then another. He paused several seconds between each punishing swat. I felt the searing pain of his palm across my skin, but it felt different from the times I’d been hurt before. This was not a beating. This was not belittling. I had consented. This was somehow cleansing, like a steaming hot bath, washing me of the grime and dirt of the day. Stroke upon stroke of his palm fell, and with each smack of his hand, I felt a bit of what I’d been holding onto strip away from me.

  His voice was low and stern. “You’ve had this comin’ for a good long while, little Ruth.” The swats fell slowly, the bite of his palm on my bottom inexplicably both stinging yet welcome. I wanted him to stop, and I wanted him not to. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. I could focus on nothing but the burn of his palm on my backside.

  I focused on each lift and fall of his hand. Every flash of pain removed one more layer of hurt. Each smack made the pain inside me mor
e bearable. My mind no longer swirled in torment, but rather surrendered to him.

  Now I cried, tears flowing freely as the knot in my chest dissolved. I sniffled, running a hand across my eyes. He paused for a second, one warm hand still positioned on my lower back, before he administered the hardest swat he’d given me yet.

  My eyes were closed, tears coursing down my cheeks, as he pulled me to standing before drawing me to his chest. I was dimly aware of his hands wrapping around my legs and lifting me, that we were moving, and he was carrying me. My hands were around his neck and my face upon his chest as I cried. No one had ever soothed me like this before, with a soft “shhh.” As he walked to the bed, I felt like it was not just me he carried, but my hurt. I no longer felt guilt. I simply felt that the sadness in my chest had been released. I’d submitted to him. I’d been laid bare.

  He laid on the bed and pulled me up on his chest. After a time, my tears slowed. I closed my swollen eyes, and I held him so tightly he chuckled. My arms wrapped around him as if I were a drowning woman and he was my savior. I hiccupped, eyes still shut tight.

  “Hold me tight,” I whispered. It was not a command but a plea.

  Strong, muscular arms embraced me and squeezed. I was completely enveloped by him. We lay there in silence, my hitched breathing intermingling with his own slow breaths. And as I lay there, I felt the calm after the storm descend. Finally, I lifted my face to his. I’d been stripped of my pride and anger. With a simple spanking over his knee, he’d broken down the barrier I’d spent a lifetime building. I was no longer the proud woman who held others at a distance. He’d seen me at my most vulnerable and he hadn’t taken advantage of me, mocked me, or hurt me.

  He’d given me the spanking fitting a naughty child for my naughty behavior, and in so doing unearthed the woman who loved him.

  He placed a finger under my chin, his lips coming to my forehead and gracing me with a tender kiss.

  I was so close to him then, I felt his deep voice vibrate over my body. “Feel better, honey?” he said.

  I nodded and sniffled.

  He smiled. “Wasn’t sure how you’d feel after I gave you a lickin’. And I can’t say I haven’t wanted to do that for a good long while.”

  I laughed through my tears. It was a relief, laughing like this, as he held me. “Well,” I said. “If I’m honest, I can’t say I haven’t deserved it for a good long while.” I sighed as I remembered why he’d punished me. “Samuel?”

  “Yes, honey.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight. I couldn’t trust myself to speak above a whisper. “Will Aaron keep Pearl from me? Will I be allowed to see her again?”

  He snorted. “Pearl needs a good spankin’ herself for how she treated you,” he said. “Don’t you trouble yourself with that now. I’ll talk to Aaron tonight, and it’ll be fine.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but I was in no position to argue. I nodded meekly.

  He chuckled again.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, it’s just that I like having meek little Ruth in my arms,” he said. “And if I’d known all it’d take was a spanking to break through to you, I’d have tanned your hide a long time ago.”

  I sniffed. “I’d have liked to see you try,” I grumbled.

  He chuckled, but lifted my chin with his finger again. “Now, Ruth,” he said. “You behave yourself.”

  He seemed stronger and sterner, and the memory of just moments before being laid across his lap caused a pulse of excitement in my chest, which only continued to rise as he went on.

  “I’m tellin’ you this, young lady. I spanked you once, and it was what you needed. This time, I asked you to grant me that permission. And you did. Now I know you won’t feel harmed like you did before, when you were mistreated. I’m holding my little Ruth in my arms, after gettin’ her little bottom spanked, as meek and calm as a well-fed kitten. I’ll expect you to behave yourself goin’ forward. If you don’t, I’ll not hesitate to bring you straight across my knee again.”

  I closed my eyes, overcome with my need for him, the words causing me to shift and squeeze my thighs together. At the very same time, I felt relieved. He wouldn’t let me carry on like a shrew, and he’d be here to pick up the pieces when I faltered.

  “I understand,” I said, wanting to thank him but still feeling self-conscious about it.

  His eyes darkened. “And if you ever pull some of the stunts you’ve pulled this week, the next time I spank you, I’ll spank your bare bottom, little lady.”

  “Well, now, let’s not get carried away,” I responded, though my heart thundered in my chest and I smiled at him. His lips quirked up. He placed his hands under my arms and heaved me further up his chest.

  His lips met mine. I closed my eyes. I was in the presence of a stern, uncompromising man, so strong and kind, bearing the mark of his hand upon my skin. Now I wanted to be owned by him in every possible way. I wanted to be claimed, and mastered, filled with nothing but him. His hands went to my face and he held me as our kiss deepened, hot as blazes, flaming my need for him. My thighs shifted beneath my skirts, and I remembered his hand between my legs. I needed more of him.

  As we kissed, his hands made their way to the back of my dress. It was simply sewn, with few buttons. He gathered up my skirts as he sat up, lifting me and turning so that now I lay flat on my back and he above me. It was then I noticed his arousal tented in his trousers. It pleased me.

  His hands spanned my waist. I needed more.

  I placed my hands flat on his chest, feeling the strength beneath his shirt.

  What happened next was a blur of passion and heat, as I fiddled with my layers of clothing and he unbuttoned his shirt. We both knew what we needed. No words were necessary. When I was bared to him and he to me, he lowered himself back down to me again. The feel of his naked skin against mine flared my arousal again. I could still feel the sting in my backside against the quilt, the throbbing need for him, and his hardened length between my legs as he kissed me. I longed to feel him inside me.

  His tanned, muscled arms encircled me. I felt all of Samuel, his breath on my skin, his warmth against me, as he gently nudged my knees apart.

  “Are you ready, little Ruth?” he whispered. “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t stop now,” I breathed. “Please don’t stop now. I need you.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head to my chest as he thrust into me. I felt at once consumed and needier, my hips rising to meet him. I loved the feel of my burning skin on the blanket and being overpowered. My breath came in gasps and I was already nearing ecstasy. It was only moments after he began that I panted, toppling over the edge, a thrill running from my chest down to my thighs and all the way to my toes, my entire body humming, and he was right there behind me. It felt so right, so natural.

  But as we lay there in the stillness, holding one another in the aftershock of a spanking followed by lovemaking, the haze began to lift.

  What had we done?

  * * *

  How could things be normal now? After I’d been taken across Samuel’s knee and spanked? When I’d cried in his arms, then lain on the bed and been taken by him?

  Now he needed to get to his work, and me to mine. As I mopped my floor, kneaded my bread, and mended Hannah’s stockings, I felt the sting on my bottom, the ache between my legs, and I kept finding myself staring, marveling at what had transpired. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for things to be different between us. Even in misery, there’s comfort in familiarity.

  When Hannah returned from school, Matthew joined her. I watched from the window in the kitchen. Hannah was chattering animatedly to Matthew, who held his books and lunch pail in one hand and her books and lunch pail in another. I wondered, for a moment, what Samuel was like when he was Matthew’s age. Had he always been somewhat sober, steadfast, and dependable? I watched as the two walked to the barn, Hannah’s braids gleaming in the sunlight and Rascal, Matthew’s little dog, followi
ng beside them. We had no meat again, and I was eager to go back to a simple meal of beans, cornbread, and vegetables. I anticipated Matthew and Samuel staying for supper, as I wasn’t sure how long it would take for them to fix the beam in the barn.

  I felt my stomach flutter in anticipation when I realized Samuel would return soon. What happened after two friends became lovers?

  What we had done was shameful, sinful some might even say.

  But my only regret was that we’d waited so long.

  I thrummed the table with the butt of my knife, the greens now prepared for supper. My stew simmered and bubbled on the stove as I placed my bread in the oven. Moments later, the cabin warmed with the comforting smell of bread baking.

  “Smells delicious in here,” I heard Samuel’s voice rumble. I spun around to look at the doorway, but the door was shut fast. I looked wildly about me, hearing naught but a manly chuckle. I knew that voice. Finally, after several moments’ frantic search, I saw Samuel leaning in the tiny window in the cabin.

  I wagged my finger. “You’re enough to scare a woman out of her wits!” I chided, which elicited another chuckle from him. He stepped away from the window, and I hoped he was coming to the door. I felt bereft already.

  A moment later, I heard a knock at the door. I fairly skipped. I hadn’t felt this light and airy since I was a child, and even then I couldn’t recall being so joyful. I unlatched the door, and he entered, carrying a basket of eggs.

  “I’d like to kiss you, but it seems you’ve got your hands full,” I murmured.

  He grinned. “You need my hands free before you can kiss me?”

  My cheeks flushed at his comment, the sudden recollection of what his hands had done to me while he kissed me making my legs grow weak. He seemed to remember at the same time as I did, his eyes heating and the grin widening.

  “Well, take this basket and I’ll kiss you proper.”

  I stepped closer to him, obediently taking the basket. His hand shot out, grasped my elbow, and tugged. I squealed as he held me close and his lips met mine once again. Though the kiss was brief, his hands lingered at my waist.