Fort Laramie by Courage Knight Page B

if Mrs. Burt had disobeyed her husband, he could have done anything to her. A wife was as much his property as his house or his mule. That is disrespectful, too. I will not do that to you, Carrie. A spanking is not disrespectful. It will not cause any long-lasting physical or emotional scars. It is very intimate. It is a husband and wife clearing the air between them, and then all is forgiven."
    "Okay," she huffed angrily. "Just get this over with!"
    "As you wish," he said with a chuckle, quoting from a popular movie.
    He helped her over his lap, mindful of her injured foot. He twisted so that her upper body was supported on the picnic table, rather than suspended awkwardly over the bench and ground. He rested his hand on her bottom, which was easily accessible since all she had on was her bikini and his sweatshirt. The bikini was mostly dry now, but cold. Although it had been in the upper nineties earlier that day, the temperature had plummeted with the sun. Carrie shivered, and he wasn't sure if it was from nerves or the chill of the desert night. He wrapped an arm around her upper torso, getting a solid grip as he just knew she was going to fight him on this. Then he raised his hand.
    This was all so strange. He had never spanked anyone before. He had wanted to! Oh, lord, had he wanted to. He'd been the man of the family when his father passed away, and his younger sisters had been in and out of trouble all through their teenage years. His mother wouldn't let him discipline them, though. And now she regretted that. She'd told him as much the last time they had to bail Jackie out.
    Carrie could have been seriously injured! She could have hit her head on the rocks. She could have drowned! Fear drove strength to his arm as he brought his palm down on the rounded target.
    Carrie gasped, already wiggling. He raised his arm and swung again. This was harder than it looked. He wasn't sure she was feeling this. He'd read all he could about spanking online after Adrian has first suggested it. The guys would spank their wives fifty, sixty times, and he'd naively thought that ten or twelve would be enough. But no - his swats were not strong enough. Ten or twelve spanks would only be enough to get her attention, not teach her a lesson. He settled down, backing off a bit to settle in for the long haul. Then after ten spanks, he tugged on the bikini to get it out of the way.
    "Tom!" Carrie cried. "No!"
    "Respect," he repeated. "You will not tell me what to do."
    "But this is wrong!"
    "Mrs. Bart, this is what you deserve." The next spank sounded loud as his hand met her naked flesh. Her gasp was louder, too. As small as it was, the fabric of her bikini had muffled some of the sting from his previous swats. Note to self - all spankings would be on the bare from now on.
    His hand landed again and again. Each slap made a satisfying splat against her bottom and was answered by a more and more remorseful moan from the miscreant's lips. She kicked, she wiggled, she cried, she pleaded, but Tom remained steadfast in his resolve.
    Finally, something happened. It was like the starch came out of her. She went limp across his lap. She was crying, but not excessively so. It was as though she finally submitted to him. He would give her ten more, and then this would be done. Ten good, solid whacks, because this was the real spanking. The rest had all been a warm up to get to this point. Now, she was submitting to him, and he would not disappoint her.
    He counted each one in his head, but in the future, he would make her count them. And there would be a future. He knew it. And deep down inside, she must know it too. She wouldn't have let him spank her if she didn't like him at least a little bit.
    Three, two, one. One last, firm, purposeful spank to her now heated bottom. Then he let his hand just rest there a moment before he tugged her bikini back into place. He helped her up and held her on his lap, holding her close while she cried. He swayed gently,