Annabelle: An Erotic Western Spanking Menage (Doms of Destiny Trail Book 1) Read online

  Blaise took a deep breath. "No."

  "That's what I thought. Now get your thinking hat on cowboy. We've gotta find something smart to say to that girl."

  Chapter 2

  He pushes himself closer. I can feel the heat of his hard body against mine. He feels the way he looks, hard, with rough edges all over him. But all I want is to feel those rough edges against my softness. When his lips touch my neck I shiver and hear him ask, "You cold baby?" I can only whisper that I'm not and pull him closer. I feel his mouth leave a grail of dampness as it trails down my neck. He pauses at my collarbone, his finger tracing the line of it. I can barely wait. Just a little lower. Please. Then he's there. His lips rounding the curve of my breast, his tongue tasting me until I feel his wetness on the hard flesh of my stiff nipple.

  When I moan, he looks up at me. His eyes betray nothing of what he's going to do. He cups my breast softly with his muscled hand, then bites gently at the nipple in his mouth.

  "Ah!" My voice is higher this time, from the pain.

  "You don't like that, beautiful?"

  I don't know what to do, don't know what to say. Of course I like it. Of course I love every second that he's touching me but I shouldn't. I'm not his. I belong to someone else and this is wrong. But it feels too good to make him stop. As his mouth leaves my stiff, now wet nipple behind and slides further down my body, I curl in anticipation. The wetness in between my legs, the ache I feel inside, I only want one thing. Him. Inside of me.

  As he sinks between my thighs, my back arches. I gasp as my breasts are squeezed by another set of hands.

  It had been a quiet ride down the dirt road in Amos' wagon back to his ranch. The scenery was unlike that back home. Barren, save for the long expanses of grassy plain stretching out towards the horizon and not a tree or a bird in sight.

  Annabelle had sensed the man's nerves as much as she felt her own but had little space in her mind to try and fill the awkward silence with banter. The only thing she could think of were the men she'd seen. Not so much the one's who'd picked up Daisy Lou at the train station, but the ones behind them. The ones who'd been standing by the station wall, sturdy beneath their hats.

  She rolled Amos' words over and over in her mind. I got no quarrel with the way you choose to live. What did that mean? And why had so many men come for just one woman? Why had they been standing apart from the others. The questions went around and around in circles in her mind and wouldn't give her peace until finally, unable to restrain herself any longer, she turned to the man beside her, the one who would soon be her husband, took a deep breath, and spoke his name.

  "Mr. Evans?"

  He turned and looked at her, keeping both hands on the horses reins. He looked shocked, as if he'd never heard his name spoken by a woman before. Then, suddenly and without any warning, he burst into a fit of giggling that shook the seat of the wagon they were on and made Annabelle blush that she'd done something wrong. When he'd finally recovered enough to speak, he turned to her again but she was too shy to meet his stare.

  "I'm sorry. I am very sorry," he said, the last hiccups of his laughter bubbling up between his words. "You must know I don't expect you to call me that? Don't you?"

  "I...I wasn't sure..." Annabelle said, her whisper drifting out over the vastness of the plain. The wagon came to a halt, causing her to look and see what was happening. Was he mad? Would he leave her here by the side of the road? He seemed nice enough...

  "Look, I'm sorry about another thing too."

  When she looked at him again, his eyes were turned down and his expression had softened into something sad. "I've never been very good with women. Not when I was growing up. Never had any sisters. Not when I went to work. Worked in a cannery before I moved here."

  Annabelle's heart sank in pity for the man. He wasn't anything but a sad soul searching for some happiness.

  "When they...when they told me I could...order a bride in this way," he turned his eyes up to look at her. They were big and round and it looked like he might begin to cry. "When they told me, I can't tell you how happy I was. Annabelle I'm not a handsome man nor am I very rich. But I do have enough to provide a good life for us and our children."

  The last word made her bristle. Of course that was part of the agreement. Of course this man would want her to bear his children. It was still better than a room in a brothel.

  "All I ask of you is that you be patient with me in my failings and that we pray together for a good life."

  Annabelle felt herself overcome by pity. She'd spent much of the journey there worrying about what kind of a man he'd be. Wondering whether he'd be mean, or a drunk or whether she'd end up regretting the decision. But now that she was face to face with him and saw that he was just a lonely man searching for some happiness, she began to feel like the situation would at least be tolerable, if not ideal.

  "Mr. Evans...er, Amos," she said, putting on her most cheerful expression and hoping he wouldn't notice the reluctance behind it. "I will do my best to be a good wife for you."

  Somewhere, in the darkest corners of her mind, thoughts came and went. There was more she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him she was happy, that she would try to make him so. But words had never come easily for her, not since she was a little girl. The truth was she had as little experience with men as he had with women and felt like she barely knew how to speak to them. So she left it at that.

  He smiled, a feeble smile that made it seem he had more to say as well. But instead, he nodded, turned back towards the road and snapped the reins causing the wagon to lurch forward.

  The ranch house wasn't large. A porch surrounded it and inside there was a parlour in the front, past it a small kitchen and off to the side, two bedrooms one with a large four post bed. Amos carried the one suitcase she'd brought with her into that room and set it by the wardrobe, a beaten up old thing, then showed her to the kitchen.

  "You'll be the one to cook?" he asked, almost shy of the question.

  "I'm afraid I don't know how," Annabelle replied, looking around and noticing the place needed some serious cleaning. "Will there be a cleaning lady coming?"

  "A cleaning lady?" Amos said, surprise painted across his face. "Not around these parts. I suppose I thought that as my wife...well, that you would do the cleaning too."

  Though Annabelle had not been raised in too much privilege, her mother had always felt too badly about her husband leaving to make Annabelle do any chores or learn to cook. They'd had a maid that came around twice a week and cleaned. Her mother did the cooking, leaving Annabelle to spend her summers lazing about the neighbours orchard picking apples and lying in the shade, staring up at the clouds. In the winters, when she was at the boarding school, everything was taken care of for her. So despite the fact that she was quite well studied, Annabelle had little of the knowledge needed to take care of herself, or anyone else for that matter, in everyday life.

  "I'm to clean as well? I..." Annabelle struggled to not let the shock of the news register on her face. "I didn't realize this would be that kind of arrangement."

  Amos frowned, as if unsure of what to say next. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind and instead sat down at the table in the middle of the kitchen.

  "Well I guess there are a few things we need to discuss. I was raised with the understanding that a man's work is a man's work. I'll keep the ranch running, keep the farmhands in line and keep you fed. If I can count on you to do the cooking and the cleaning..."

  Annabelle didn't let him finish. "To be honest, I don't fancy the thought of it at all. My mother always cleaned and frankly I found it to be quite disgusting."

  Amos' puzzlement grew. "What do you propose your role to be in this partnership then?"

  Annabelle looked up at the ceiling, musing over her reply. "Well, as you said, I'll be the one to give you children. I'll do my best to raise them, certainly. But to cook and clean? Perhaps you'd prefer a maid to a wife?" She asked the question earnestly,
though now that she'd apprised the situation and seen it for what it was, realized there would be some room for leeway in the arrangement.

  Amos' face clouded into a frown.

  "Now look here Annabelle. I'm not one to raise my hand against a woman as some men are,"

  "Raise a hand against a woman?!? Of course you'll do no such thing! I won't even have you speaking of it! How rude!"

  His face began to glow a dull red in frustration. He opened his mouth and breathed loudly through it a few times, as if he had something very important to say but could not find the way to say it. Finally, clenching his fists in exasperation he turned and shuffled towards the door. Before stepping out, he spun around and glowered at her with what looked to be the fiercest face he could muster.

  "I've half a mind to send you back, Annabelle."

  But she knew he would do no such thing. A certain calm came over her. She'd been worried that the man she'd end up with would be mean or angry. That he might beat her to get his way. This was turning out to be quite the opposite and Annabelle began to feel entirely in her element. Entirely in control.

  "I don't think you will. Now please, where's the bathroom? I'd like to freshen up before bed."

  Amos let out one last, frustrated huff. "There's an outhouse out behind the house. Water's in the well. Bucket's over there." Pointing for a second in the direction of the bucket, he turned around and stormed out through the door. "I'll be in the barn. Working!" he called out and Annabelle could hear the consternation in his voice. But she'd never been one to let other people's anger upset her and now that she realized there would be no consequences, she settled back into the person she felt most comfortable being. A woman who usually got her way.

  ***

  She stands in front of me, her round, ripe breasts rising slightly with her breath. I can't keep my hands off of them. She gasps as my weather worn hands touch her smooth skin. I see her looking down in surprise, betraying that no one has ever touched her like this before.

  "What are you...what are you doing?" she asks, her voice trembling in a fear laced with desire.

  "Taking what's mine," I answer, staring at her, drinking in every precious curve of her body.

  I see Ren's hands snake out from behind her back, onto her stomach. She gasps again but her body curves, her back arching against our affections. I feel my cock, hard, press against the soft, wet flesh between her legs. Her eyes open wide and she looks down at me. She looks scared but she can't stop staring at me, ready to sink into her. "Just relax, beautiful. Relax."

  Blaise looked up and wiped the bead of sweat that had formed on his brow from shovelling. He leaned against the wall with one hand and looked at the other men who were pitching fresh hay over the mucked out stalls. When Rem saw him taking a break, he did the same.

  "That's a good idea. Come on boys, how about we take five?"

  Tex and Mack looked up and nodded, leaning their pitchforks up against the barn wall and walking over slowly. Blaise had had one question on his mind since he'd woken up. Would he see Annabelle today? He knew Rem was thinking it too, just by the way he was staring off into the distance. He didn't want Tex and Mack to know about how they felt, though. They were good friends, but they were just as loyal to Amos Evans as they were to them. No sense getting them all tangled up in this.

  "How'd you boys spend the night?" Blaise asked with a wicked grin. His smile faltered as he saw the two men look at each other, concern where there should have been happiness on their faces.

  "We weren't gonna tell you," Tex said, looking down at the ground, "but since you asked."

  "What happened? Is Daisy-Lou alright?" he asked, stepping towards them.

  "She's fine," Mack replied. "We're all fine."

  "Well then what in the hell happened that's got you looking like you saw a ghost?"

  "Some of the bastards from the train station stopped by last night."

  A silence fell over the four men as Blaise and Rem looked at each other, then back at their two friends.

  "You mean, came over to your house?" Blaise asked quietly, his blood starting to boil.

  "Yeah. Didn't do nothing. They were all pretty much too drunk to stand up. Probably had a few and got themselves good and riled up about everything down at the saloon, then decided they were going to do something about it."

  "What did you do to get rid of them?" Rem asked. The two men looked over to where he was standing.

  "I fired a couple of shots out the window and into the air. That got them pretty spooked and they wandered off. Got a bit noisy before that though."

  Blaise was struggling to control his rising temper. "What in the hell are they so mad about anyway? We don't go around laughing at them, each with a woman they can't handle."

  "Well, we kind of do," Tex said casually.

  "Sure but we don't go starting fights and stalking them for it!" Blaise snapped angrily.

  "Hey, cool it. I was just trying to, you know, lighten things up a bit," Tex said, his hands up to try and get Blaise to settle down.

  "Alright. You're right. It just pisses me the hell off, is all," Blaise said, mashing a fist into his palm.

  "Yeah, didn't leave much of a mood for romance anyways," Mack added.

  "I suppose it wouldn't," Rem said. "You boys want us to hang around tonight? In case they come back a little less drunk and a little more rowdy?"

  Tex and Mack exchanged glances again. "No. We'll, you know, we'll be fine," Tex answered.

  "Alright. Fine. If you change your minds..."

  "You boys are good and early!"

  "Good morning Mr. Evans!" Blaise called out, waving to the figure silhouetted in the giant barn doors. As he stepped closer Blaise noticed the man was carrying a pot of coffee and four cups.

  "Come on fellas, time to take a break."

  The four men leaned their pitchforks and shovels against the walls of the stall and each took a cup from Amos and held it out for him to pour in the black, tarry liquid. "Hope you boys like it strong, that's the only way I know to make it!"

  "That's the only way I know to drink it," Tex mumbled, sending his three friends into a low chuckle.

  Blaise could tell the Rem was having just as hard a time holding his tongue as he was. All he wanted to do was ask about Annabelle. Where as she? Could he see her? Could they see her? But the last thing he wanted was for Amos Evans to start getting suspicious of his intentions, though they were less than virtuous. He would never do anything like that to the man that had been so kind to him and his friend. Would he?

  "How was the first night with your bride Mr. Evans?" Tex asked, saving Blaise from having to bring up the subject of the woman. His heart leapt into his throat at the thought of Amos describing what he'd done to the beautiful thing. So much so that he thought if the man started talking he might not be able to handle it.

  But the scowl that crept across Amos' face brought some relief and the hope that perhaps things hadn't gone as they should have between the two. He caught Rem staring at Amos with the same intense look he felt on his own face.

  "I don't know boys..."

  The men looked back and forth at each other. It did seem to be a strange reaction from a man who'd just spent the first night with his bride. But how to broach a subject like that? Some things were just better left unsaid. Amos Evans didn't seem to think so. "I've got to say fellas," he started rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand, "she's not quite the woman I thought she'd be."

  "How's that Mr. Evans?" Tex asked warily. Amos seemed to gladly take up the invitation to talk about his troubles.

  "Well Tex, I suppose I would have expected more of a...I don't know how to say it without being rude...a woman who was...raised in a certain way. If you catch my drift?"

  "I'm not sure I do, Mr. Evans," Tex said, trying to understand what his boss was saying. Amos paused, as if thinking of whether he should tell the whole story. After a sigh of resignation, he went on.

  "Well I told her of my intentions, as
to how I thought our marriage ought to go yesterday, just after we'd arrived. I don't know about you boys but were I come from a woman knows how to clean and keep a house." He looked around at the men who began nodding around him. He seemed encouraged by their agreement. "I thought so. Now maybe I'm just crazy or things have changed so much, or I'm too old, I don't know. But my Annabelle, she said she wouldn't do any of that. Her mother, may she rest in peace, never taught her how to cook and she says cleaning's beneath her. Why she even talked back to me with a smart mouth."

  The four men listened in silence, exchanging glances with each other as Amos told them of how Annabelle had become more and more demanding as the evening wore on. Finally, Blaise was unable to contain himself any longer.

  "Look, Mr. Evans," he said, wringing his hands at the story he'd just heard. "Pardon me if it's not my business, but since you brought it up I feel it alright to ask. Did you spank the girl for acting the way she did?"

  Amos' jowls reddened as he answered. "Well I just don't believe in that sort of thing, you see. I wasn't raised that way, I don't think I'd be able." He looked squarely at Blaise, giving the impression that there wasn't much room for compromise on the topic.

  "I'm sorry Mr. Evans, I didn't mean to..."

  "No, no, no," Amos interrupted, waving the apology away with both hands, "I know it. I know that a woman like that just needs a sound spanking but I could never bring myself to do it. I just couldn't. I'm not the sort."

  "Fair enough," Mack replied calmly. "To each their own, Mr. Evans. To each their own."

  "Was she at least satisfactory in the bedroom last night, Mr. Evans?" Blaise couldn't believe it was Rem's voice he was hearing asking the question. Amos was a quiet man, a man who kept to himself. Surely he would not take kindly to someone asking such a personal question. Blaise glanced at his friend who was trying to look as casual as he could, though Blaise knew he felt the same anxiety awaiting Amos' answer as he did.