Rocky Mountain Wild (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 6) (17 page)

She laid her leg out on the table bench, rubbing her leg and grimacing.

“Sore?” Calum asked from the doorway, and she dropped her hand. She hadn’t meant for him to see her massaging her leg.

“A little.”

He crossed to light a fire, and she felt grateful. The warmth would help her cramping body.

With the blaze started, he came to his feet, dusting off his hands. “How are the bindings coming?”

“Good.” She kept her head down, staring at her feet.

“Any pain from them? You don’t find they hinder you at all?”

“No.”

A pause, and she could feel him studying her. He sighed, and she knew he’d read the truth.

“Phoebe, come here.”

The distance from the table bench to his big chair felt like a mile. When she reached him, she didn’t look up, but stood in front of him, feeling like a child about to get chastised.

Gentle hands drew her between his legs. “Did you do the bindings today?”

“No, Calum.” A hand on her chin tipped her face up.

“What about yesterday?”

She shook her head and let her eyes slide away from his grey ones. She couldn’t bear to see disappointment there.

“Why not?”

Her shoulders shrugged once, and slumped, defeated.

“Phoebe. We talked about this. You need to do the exercises and bindings every day for them to work. If they’re uncomfortable, we’ll tell the doctor and we can make adjustments.”

“They’re not uncomfortable.”

“Then why are you not doing them?”

“I don’t know.” She squirmed a little. “I don’t want to.”

He raised a brow. “Is that a good reason not to care for yourself?”

She just glared at him.

“Well, if you won’t. I will. Every day. We’re doing the bindings and the exercises, and if you cross me, you will be spanked and made to sit in the corner on your smarting bum.”

She gave a little huff of frustration.

“You don’t believe me?”

The next thing she knew she was over his lap. “No!” She shrieked, kicking her legs. “Get off.”

“Be still and take your punishment like a good lass.”

“Just let me go! You’re treating me like a child—”

“Perhaps you need to be treated like one so you learn your lesson.”

“But I don’t like the bindings,” she whined.

His hand smacked down once, in warning.

“You’re not telling me the truth, little girl. Your actions are hurting you and causing you pain. And it’s my job to correct that.” His big hands kneaded her fleshy lobes, readying them for a good smacking. Across his knees, caressed and completely helpless to him, she already felt calmer, as if his touch imparted a peace that soothed her soul. Her protests died away. A part of her realized this was happening, and felt annoyed.

“I told you I’m going to take care of you, no matter what.” He started spanking her, quick, light slaps to one buttock then the next, covering every part of her bottom with his large palm.

The sting woke the struggle in her again. She yelped and struggled but he held her easily, warming her cheeks with his broad hand. Squirming, she tried to get away, and he used his leg to tamp hers down, while one hand caught her flailing hands and held them to the small of her back.

Pinned and unable to do much more than wriggle, Phoebe had no recourse but to accept the humiliating punishment. The spanks felt worse now that she couldn’t move.

She groaned her frustration, fighting against her own desire to submit. Her bottom felt very warm now. She gritted her teeth against crying out. She would not yield.

Her determination lasted through only a few more sharp smacks.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry.” She shouted apologies but he paid no heed, his hand dancing over her skin. He never hit her too hard or in the same place too many times, but his palm was relentless.

“This is for your own good. I don’t like causing you pain, but you must learn.”

At last he stopped. Her bottom throbbed as if the spanking continued, but a warm haze coated her thoughts. He never spanked her hard, she realized. Even while chastising her, he gave her just a taste and not too much, enough to impart the lesson. In this, and everything else, he took care of her.

He rubbed her heated flesh and she realized her pussy was wet, body primed for his intimate touch. This was worse than being put over his knee and punished: knowing that, deep down, a part of her liked it. His fingers dipped a little and she tried to wriggle away. “Be still.”

She sniffled, but submitted. He went back to squeezing her cheeks until almost all the sting was gone, replaced by a warm glow deep inside of her.

Finally, he tipped her up and carried her to the chair.

She yelped as her hot bum hit the hard wood. Her leg didn’t hurt as much, but maybe that was just compared to her bottom.

“Now, you’ll sit in the corner and think about how to be a good girl, while I get your bindings ready.”

He came to get her after a few minutes, and she went through the motions begrudgingly with him. He was calm and patient and sweet to her, even when she put up a fuss. It was infuriating. His hands worked her foot and calf gently. She both loved and hated the sight of her handsome husband cradling her cursed foot.

When he was finished, her leg and foot were tired from the exercise but she had to admit they felt much better. He reached for her bindings and she tried to take them from him, snapping, “I can do it.”

“I know you can.” He took her foot firmly his lap. “Let me take care of you.”

She turned her sob into a growl of frustration, but let him manipulate her foot and tie it properly.

He should be with someone beautiful, not an ugly crippled girl. It didn’t make sense that he would want her.

“How does that feel?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “Happy?”

He studied her quietly. She knew she was poking the bear, but the frustration inside her was building, trying to come out, and if she didn’t snap at him, she would cry.

“It does make me happy to know you’re getting better.”

“I don’t see why you should care.”

“Excuse me?” His eyebrow lifted.

“You hear me,” she muttered.

“I don’t like your tone.”

“And I don’t like being your ugly, crippled wife,” she practically shouted. “Now will you leave me alone?” She tried to escape and found herself back over his knee.

“No, stop!”

“Yes, Phoebe.” He swatted her bare bum twice. “I understand you’re hurt and frustrated. A lot has happened in the past few months and you’re still taking it in. But you will not disrespect me, and you will never, ever speak such harsh things about yourself in my hearing. You’re my wife and I love you, and I will not tolerate slander against you. Not from you or anyone else.” He followed the lecture up with four firm swats, two on each cheek, then pulled her up.

“Now, Phoebe. Have you learned your lesson?”

She glared at him, and he chuckled. “I thought not. It would almost be disappointing if you did.”

He tipped her over his lap again and she submitted.

“You like spanking me,” she accused.

“I do that, lass,” he admitted with a little chuckle. “I do like turning your cheeks pink. But I don’t want to give you more pain than you can take.”

His hands rubbed her bottom, massaging a soothing balm into the cheeks. True to his word, he did not want to cause her too much pain.

Despite herself, she relaxed at the soothing massage. His hands were perfect; they knew just where to squeeze and caress.

“Let go, little one. You don’t have to carry it all alone anymore.”

She sniffled.

“Feeling better?”

She had to admit she did. “Yes, Calum.”

He drew her up and set her on his lap.

“Now tell me, why would you not do the bindings?”

As always after a spanking, she felt raw and vulnerable, and more connected to her big husband than ever. “I don’t know.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Tears filled her eyes as she whispered.

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else.”

She shook her head and now tears did fall. “I can’t do it.”

His arms were around her, pulling her into his lap before she gave the first shuddering sob. “Oh, sweet Phoebe, it’s all right.”

“What if I try so hard and it’s useless?”

“What if you try and it works just right? You’re scared right now, afraid to hope. Trust me. Let me take away your fear.” He let her cry it out. “I’ll help. Can you do what the doctor said, to please me?”

His big paws held her face and she nodded, eyes still closed.

“You’ve had a long hard road, lass. Let me carry you a little way.”

She melted against him, hugging him as he hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry about, lass. No harm done to me. I’ll rub you down tonight, and help you stretch. Tomorrow you’ll be good as new. And if you’re scared again, you will tell me?”

“Yes.”

He let her go and rose. “Tonight you’ll also get the rest of your punishment.”

Her eyes widened, but he said no more.

Waiting for punishment was worse than enduring one. Phoebe found herself grateful when her husband finished dinner and motioned for her to come sit on the bench before him. He redid her bindings and helped her through the stretches. When it was done, he went to the shelf above the hearth and pocketed something, then settled into his great chair, motioning her to come stand between his legs.

“How do you feel, Phoebe?”

She shrugged, and he waited until she answered. “Fine, I guess.” Truth was her limbs were tired, but in a good way.

“Are you going to do the bindings as the doctor ordered?”

“Yes. I promise, Calum.”

“Good lass.” His firm tone became softer. “I know it’s a lot of changes all at once, but they’re for the best. And I’ll help you through them, you ken?”

“I understand.”

He cleared his throat, turning into Calum the disciplinarian. “But now, when Phoebes don’t do the things they should, what do they get?”

She squirmed, feeling like an errant child before her papa. “Punished?”

“That’s right.” He shifted in his chair to make room for her across his knees, a position she was coming to know well.

“Are you going to spank me again?”

“What do you think?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel you deserve it?”

“Yes,” she had to admit.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you think that?”

“Because I did harm to myself by not doing the bindings as you and the doctor ordered.”

“He ordered them to help you. And I want to see you feeling better. You’re my wee bird, remember? We have to heal your wing.”

She nodded, eyes on the floor.

“Look at me, lass.” He waited until she obeyed. “I’m not going to spank you. I don’t want you to be sore and aching more than you already are. But there’re other ways to punish you.”

He patted his lap and she positioned herself over his legs, though she did not like the twinkle in his eye. For a few minutes, he only massaged her bum, separating the cheeks and squeezing them. Her earlier chastisement hadn’t been enough to leave much more than a pink stain on her skin for a few hours; the sting faded just as quickly. Calum’s spankings were never too hard, and his big hands knew just how to knead her muscles to make them feel good. Just when she relaxed, though, his finger probed her hole. She stiffened.

“I spanked you earlier, and I didn’t like it. I don’t want to cause you pain. Naughty Phoebes get their bottoms punished on the inside and outside. See this?”

He showed her a little carved piece of wood, a narrow bulb that tapered and then flared out again. “This is a plug. I whittled it just for you. It goes in your bum hole and stretches you out for me. One day you’ll be able to take my cock in your arse.”

“Calum, no…” Her cheeks flared with humiliation at the thought of her husband putting anything… in there.

“Hush now, Phoebe, and take your punishment. There’s a good lass.”

He oiled up his finger, and pushed the slick digit further into her tight pucker. It didn’t quite hurt but it certainly felt strange. Phoebe frowned and whimpered as he pressed in and eased out, loosening her hole. She squirmed, and his other hand stroked her cheeks soothingly.

“Be still now. Almost done.” After stretching her with his fingers, he took the oiled end of the plug and pushed it in. Phoebe gasped as the thick part stretched her to the limit before popping in. Her pucker clenched around the narrow end; the wide base kept the plug from getting swallowed up by her bum. She almost moaned, imagining what it must look like: a wooden piece sticking rudely out between her bottom cheeks.

“How does it feel?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t painful, it just felt wrong. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. He’d put something in her bum hole! And one day he’d put his cock in there. She reached back to touch the plug and he caught her wrist.

“No, Phoebe. Leave it in.”

“But—”

“You’ll wear it as long as I say, or you’ll be punished.” He pulled her up to sit in his lap and she did so gingerly, angling herself so she sat on her side and not on the plug.

“But why?” She pouted.

“Because I said so, and good Phoebes do what I tell them to. It’ll remind you to do your exercises, and that you do these things to please me.” He squeezed her. “Besides, I like the thought of your bottom squeezing around the plug all day, and you remembering me putting it in.

“You’re mine, lass. All mine; every bit of you. Now, back over my lap. You’ve been a good girl, and I’m going to give you your reward.”

*

The next day, to Phoebe’s chagrin, her husband made her bend over the breakfast table so he could replace the plug. He’d taken it out just before bed the night before, after he’d fingered her to climax over his knee, and before licking her to climax again in the bed.

“There now,” he said with satisfaction, straightening and pulling down her skirts. “You’ll wear that and think of me all day.”

Her hand crept to her backside of its own volition, and he tutted. “No, no. Keep it in until I tell you to.”

It didn’t hurt, and it wasn’t really uncomfortable, but after a few hours enduring it wedged between her bum cheeks, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment every time she moved and remembered it, Phoebe snuck into the bedroom and pulled it out.