My community of Bradford has suffered significant losses due to an illness outbreak. The town council and our church pastor have decided to match and wed single women and men in the hopes of saving our rural farming community. Thankfully, I’m a widow and just over thirty, so the matching doesn’t involve me. With a job and a place to live, I’m enjoying my independence.
Chris and Jackson:
We’ve lost our wives, who were sisters, and some of our children. When approached about the matching, we agreed – but only if Sarah was our bride. Undoubtedly it will surprise her, but we’re also sure she is just what our family needs.
Publisher’s Note: This historical romance is intended for adults only. It contains explicit scenes, including ménage.
The following night, I found myself naked with my nose pressed in the corner for the offense of eavesdropping near the barn. I considered trying to plead my case with him but decided that would be a lost cause. After what felt like an eternity of standing in the corner, Jackson spoke, “Do you know why you are being punished?”
I responded with the response that I had been practicing in my head. I knew he would ask. “I didn’t let you and Chris know I was at the barn door.”
“Exactly. If you had, the three of us could have had an adult conversation that would have prevented a misunderstanding and hurt feelings.”
And it was at that moment I understood my mistake. I had listened in on a conversation that was not my own and jumped to conclusions about how they felt. And while I may have been the topic of the conversation, I still needed to make my presence known. Despite my earlier justifications for my behavior and choices, I now understood I was in the wrong.
“Yes, sir. I am very sorry. I understand now that you have explained it to me. My behavior was childish and inexcusable.” I was sorry, but I also wanted to sound particularly contrite. No sense angering the man who was about to spank me.
“I am glad to hear it. Now come and lay yourself over the pillows.”
I turned to find a pile of pillows stacked up on the bed. And in his hand, Jackson was holding a leather strap. Instinctively, I took a step backwards. I had received my fair share of spankings since saying “I do” several weeks ago, but all of them had been delivered with a hand. And my pa had never hit me with a strap, on the rare occasions when I had earned a spanking. I felt genuinely frightened.
Recognizing the fear in my eyes, Jackson spoke softly at first. “You have nothing to fear. You will have a sore bottom for a couple of days, but you won’t be any worse for wear.”
“Can’t you just spank me with your hand?” I pleaded.
“Not this time. I want you to be reminded of this lesson every time you sit down for the next couple of days.”
I nodded my head in acceptance of my fate. Slowly I walked over to the bed. Jackson helped me to get into the desired position with my bottom set up as the prime target. It felt more humiliating than lying across his lap. I buried my face in the quilt, wishing to be anywhere but here.
“Remember, no moving, no covering your bottom and no screaming. I expect you to cry but no yelling. Do you understand?”