Rebellious Bride (7 page)

“Perhaps
so,” Aaron agreed. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses about
it,” he added.

Sidling up to
him, she smiled again sin-
cerely
and gazed into his
eyes with a longing look. For an instant, she thought she had her husband
captured by her charm - he even reached out and fondled her hair, the back of
his hand caressing her cheek. But then he backed away.

If only there
had been another thunder-storm, it might have saved her. But there was none.

“Sometimes,
Abigail, you make it
diffi
-cult for me to see things
clearly, but,” he cleared his throat, “I still see this incident very
plainly.” He shook his head. “No sweet flirtation is going to alter
my decision. You can go in that stall,” he said pointing to one nearby.
“Remove your dress, I’d like you in your chemise and drawers, nothing
else.”

“But
Aaron,” she protested.

“What
happened in your father’s house was rash and brief, for your father’s benefit -
to show him who will be taking care of your
disci
pline
, and for mine - to allay some of my anger. What you
did not get last night was the thorough punishment your behavior deserves,
something much more exacting. Now go.”

Her eyes
already brimming with tears, Abigail scooted across the barn and into the empty
stall. Unbuttoning her dress, she was reminded of times with her father when
she was disciplined with such ritual. Wearing nothing but a simple shift, her
father found the task much easier without the worry of her bulky clothes to
impair his work. She could figure that Aaron felt the same way. It had been a
long time since she’d gone through this kind of disrobing to pre-pare herself
for a strapping, her father giving up the practice by the time she was
thirteen. Now a grown woman, doing it for her husband, she had so many savage
feelings rushing through her, she couldn’t decide how to feel, except scared.

Removing her
dress, she folded it care-fully and laid it over the top of the stall. Her
heart was racing fast, her mind spinning wildly, thinking of Aaron’s slow
burning anger and how his sternness did such incredible things to her - even if
she hated that.

When Aaron
finally appeared some min-
utes
later, he stood at the
stall door for several seconds just staring at her. Where his eyes had flashed
so hotly over the last day, they were sub-
dued
now,
even a little cold. Witnessing the long black strap hanging from his hand at
his side, Abigail shivered all the more. This scene bore no resemblance to the
sessions she’d had with her father - and for that matter, they weren’t
any-thing like the brief and turbulent sessions she’d already had with Aaron
the day before. She could see instantly that he was prepared to make her pay
for the reckless folly of her journey in a way she would not easily forget.

“Remove
your drawers,” he said.

“Those
too?” she queried meekly.

“I’d suggest
you’d comply without balk-
ing
,” he said. There
was not one ounce of com-passion in his steely voice.

Turning
around, as if she had to be mod-
est
with him, Abigail
lifted the waistband of her drawers and pushed them down to her knees. Wobbling
a little on one foot, she lifted the other and drew the garment off her leg.
Repeating the process with the other leg, she stripped herself of her drawers,
left naked from the waist down, her quivering bottom giving away the terror
that raced anxiously through her aroused body.

“I
suspect that if you grab the rail in front of you, that will do,” Aaron
said, pointing to the side of the stall, while she looked over her shoulder at
him. “And stand away from it, I’d rather just hit your bottom.”

Bending over
as Aaron suggested, Abigail’s bottom was presented for her
hus
-band’s
view, the two white cheeks clenching and releasing uncontrollably as she waited
for the strap to strike. Strange, all the punishment she’d had the day before,
the effect was gone. The sting she thought would never go away was gone within
hours, hardly leaving any soreness at all. By the determination in her
husband’s manner, she had the feeling that it wouldn’t be that way this time.

“I don’t
suppose you’ve been corrected like this in some time - then again I don’t know
the extent of your father’s punishments. Let this simply remind you, wife, that
you bear a
respon-sibility
to me, and I to you.”

Enough said,
Aaron Barrow, stood to one side of his wife’s quaking bottom, and rearing back
with a long strap, he let the leather rage through the air coming down on
Abigail’s behind with a sharp, reverberating smack!

“
Yeeeowww
!”

The leather
whisking through the air again, landed another strike right over top of the
first. And another, and another, and another still, Aaron beginning a steady
pace, that left poor Abigail crying in mere seconds.

“Oh,
please, husband, no!” she sobbed. Aaron’s only reply was to pause just
long enough for both of them to catch their breath.

“I’m
afraid, my love, this punishment will not be over quickly like the
others,” he informed her. Having waited long enough, he let the strap go
once more, this time, hitting her deliberately lower than the first strikes.

“
Yeeeeawwwwww
!” she wailed louder than ever. The blows
coming down at the tops of her thighs and the very base of her bottom were
horrid, the sting so mighty, she finally collapsed to the straw for some kind
of relief.

“Abigail,”
Aaron spoke harshly.

“Oh,
please, no more!” she pleaded with him.

“Stand
up!” he ordered her.

As she sat in
the prickly straw, she knew there was little choice but to follow his orders,
though she took as long a time as she dared, in order to recoup from the last
painful stings. Rising to her feet at last, she looked back to him pleading.

“Please,
Aaron, I’m so sorry!” she cried.

“Perhaps
you are now, but we’re not done. This lesson is going to last,” he vowed.

Turning back
to the bar, Abigail held on once more as Aaron let the strap fly. The sharp
sound of the leather against her red posterior was as dreadful as the sound of
her own cry rising anguished into the steamy air.

“Oh, no,
no more!” she wailed. The leather struck again.

“Please,
no!” She danced her feet as if she could get away from the awful sting.

“Oh,
gawd
! Oh, no!” she lamented.

The leather was
a harsh reply, striking yet again and again, after each of her
impas-sioned
pleas.

Once the young
wife’s ample rear cheeks were covered with a blotchy scarlet, Aaron paused
again. This time, it almost seemed as if he might consider ending the harrowing
chas-tisement
.

“You
think you can get your wits about you, Abigail Barrow?” he asked when
she’d calmed enough to listen.

“Oh, yes,
I’ll never do anything so stupid again,” she swore.

“I won’t
have you running away from me?”

“No,
never. I promise.”

“And you’ll
be coming along with me to Brighton Springs as you should?” he asked.

To this last
question, Abigail hesitated an instant, but knowing that there was no other
answer but the one that her husband wanted, she gave him the reply that he was
looking for.

“Yes,
sir. No more complaints. I promise, I really do.”

“Good,”
he replied.

She held her
breath, hoping that the pun-
ishment
was over, but it
was not. Wanting to punctuate his message with a flourish, Aaron wielded the
strap again, this time for a dozen severe and measured strokes, the pain of it
mak-ing
Abigail burst into even more fretful sobs.

“Please,
please. Oh,
gwd
, I can’t … ” she wailed.

And to her
relief, Aaron ended her tor-
ment
; this last flourish
finished, he flung the strap over the back of the stall door.

Aaron stood
for some time, waiting for his agonized wife to recuperate. When she final-
ly
came to realizing that her red rear end was dangling
like some amusement for his eyes, she quickly stood up, and grabbed for her
drawers. She was about to put them on again, when Aaron was at her side, his
hand going readily for her burning cheeks.

“I hope I
won’t have to do that again, my love,” he said.

“I hope
not too,” she snuffed. She want-
ed
more than
anything to fall into his arms, and feel the comfort of his affections. She
could feel her body responding, her thighs quivering, her tingling rear dying
for the caress that would bring satisfaction to the wild erotic desires that
now rampaged through her sex.

But no!

Suddenly her
husband’s gentleness pained her as much as his heavily wielded strap pained
her. A war in her raged like nothing she’d ever felt before, and she tried to
pull away from his touch.

“Please,”
she said, shaking him off.

“I can
understand,” Aaron said of her reluctance. “We’ll repair things as
they should be tonight.”

To that
comment, she shook her head, shook it violently. “Oh no!” she roared
at him - a quiet roar, so lie wouldn’t be taking up with the strap again at the
sound of her
isolence
. I couldn’t in to give myself
to you!” she declared. “Don’t bother coming to our bed tonight,
because you won’t be welcome!”

Grabbing her
dress away, Abigail was quick to exit the barn before she was even dressed. She
ran for the house as fast as she could go, and slammed the door behind her.
Never, never, she was thinking to herself, could she ever allow this man access
to her body and bed! Never could she enjoy that marital bliss again!

In the barn,
Aaron sighed heavily, know-
ing
that his hurt and
bewildered wife was going through a necessary
aqjustment
.
He’d been told that life with her wouldn’t be easy, and now he was very certain
of that fact. Finishing the work lie had in the barn, he soon left for the
mill, thinking only of the evening hour, and what lie hoped would be a tender
reunion with his dear and rebellious Abigail.

Chapter
Three

Abigail turned
a cold shoulder on Aaron, rolling over in bed, as soon as her husband climbed
in beside her.

“Abby,”
he said, tenderly. “It’s time to put our past disagreements aside.”

Abigail was
silent, and Aaron shook her shoulder lightly, trying to get her to budge from
her fixed place. She wasn’t budging.

“If
you’re still fuming about this morning, I think you’d better stop,” he
said. He hoped Abigail would accept the move to Brighton Springs without
anymore fuss, though now he wasn’t sure. When she’d told him, “Don’t
bother to come to our bed tonight, because you won’t be welcome!” he
assumed that was just an empty threat that a few calm hours would take
of
. Apparently he was wrong.

“Abigail,”
he whispered her name softly, thinking she might respond to a little
gentleness. But she still said nothing, and too tired to argue with her, Aaron
turned back over in bed and fell asleep, assuming that his wife did too.

Lying awake
that night, Abigail was still smarting from the rude punishment that Aaron had
given her that morning. At the same time, all she thought of all day long was
how excited she was, thrilled all the way to her toes, tingling with the most
indecent sensations - and indecent thoughts - at least indecent for any young
married woman. As much as she wanted to respond to Aaron however, she was
determined not to. If he thought he could teach her a lesson, that was fine.
But she’d teach him one too. He may move her to Brighton Springs, but she
wouldn’t like it. No manner of punishment would change her mind. She missed the
warmth of Aaron’s embrace, but this was a war they were engaged in, one she was
determined to win.

The next
morning, Abigail jumped from bed before Aaron was up. Putting on her dress, she
was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast when he came down the stairs.

“Did you
sleep well?” he asked her, admiring for the hundredth time, her
beauti-ful
face, the soft blonde curls, and the dazzling
blue eyes.

“I slept
just fine,” she said pleasantly.

She seemed
amiable enough, Aaron thought to himself, but she was still distant.
Approaching her, he put his arms around her from behind and held her tight.
“Time to mend the fences, love,” he said.

“Oh? Are
there fences to be mended?” she asked, innocently.

“I don’t
mean real fences, Abby, but the one between us,” he said.

“Oh.”
While he still held her, she moved to one side, shaking him off in the same
motion. She was opening the oven.