Staking Their Claim (6 page)

The fourth lick of the cane fell purposefully low, just above the crease where her buttocks joined her thighs.

“Oh, please, sir!” Jenny cried. It was the second time she’d called him ‘sir,’ and the combination of her obviously wet pussy and submissive language stirred a powerful need within the Englishman. He had two more strokes to deliver, but all he could think about was freeing his now-hard cock and plunging it into that slick velvet nest between her thighs. But he knew he could not do that; she was his charge, he was not yet her husband, and he could tell by her movements that she was an innocent, totally unaware of the affect her gyrations were having.

With a heavy hand, he pinned her in place again, this time leveling the blow directly on that tender crease of skin between her bottom and her thighs. Jenny, unable to slide backwards, shot forward, sending the platter of biscuits tumbling to the floor. Her legs were churning wildly, and Nigel could see everything now. With a gruff word for her to hold still, he brought down the cane for the sixth and final time, ready now to end both their misery.

“There, there,” he said as he tossed the cane onto the table and enfolded her in his arms. “We’ve no more need for such unpleasant business.”

She was sobbing against his chest so fiercely, all he could do was sink into the chair and pull her to him, swallowing hard as she immediately curled into his lap. He could feel the heat of her punished bare bottom pressing against his hard cock and shifted to alleviate the throbbing want building in his balls. She was seeking comfort now—innocent comfort—and nothing more. He held her to him, dropping a kiss to the top of her blond head as he soothed her.

Nigel could have held her all day like that, but once again he told himself that the whole point of this exercise had been to teach her a lesson that was yet to be finished. Once her sobs had subsided, he tipped her off his lap and asked her if she’d like to try again to obey as he knew she could.

“You’ll look so lovely in your frock,” he said. “So why don’t you go get dressed, and if you’re still hungry, we’ll put this whole matter behind us.”

Jenny stood, clearly defeated, and nodded her head. She sniffled sadly as she left the room. Nigel retrieved the biscuits from where they’d fallen, suddenly grateful that both he and Cody kept a tidy house. Back home, he’d have never entertained the thought of consuming something that had touched the floor. But here, where food was scarce and there was no guarantee that flour would be available, they couldn’t afford to be picky.

He was dusting the last of the biscuits off when Jenny finally reentered the room. He’d not called after her this time, knowing she’d be wearing the dress he’d picked. As expected, she looked lovely in her pink frock that matched the flush in her cheeks. She’d even managed to braid her hair, tying a little bow at the end of each braid. She was, he decided, the perfect picture of a chastened little girl as she walked stiffly and painfully to the table.

“May I eat standing?” she asked, her manner sedate. Nigel noted that she did not meet his eyes, but seemed unusually shy.

“No,” he said firmly but gently. “If you disobey, you endure the full effects of your folly.” He pulled the chair out and she glanced up at him with trepidation before sinking onto the hard seat with a pitiful whimper.

They ate in silence, and Nigel was pleased to see that Jenny cleared her plate. The diminutive waif he’d scrubbed and spanked had a healthy woman’s appetite for food. As he pondered the glimpse of her wet pussy, he wondered if that appetite would extend to more carnal fare.

He was eager to find out once he could establish himself not just as her guardian, but as her suitor.

Chapter Six: Twice the Confusion

When Nigel had sent Jenny to her room that second time, she’d shut the door and walked immediately to the looking glass that stood in the corner, seeing herself as she decided the Englishman saw her; with some strands of her long hair plastered to her flushed face by tears, her red-rimmed eyes, and childish nightgown, she looked every inch the chastened little girl.

“They treat me like a child,” she said to the forlorn reflection, but even as she spoke, she silently wondered if they knew her secret. Her bottom—so excruciatingly sore from welts she now traced with her fingers—wasn’t the only thing throbbing. Between her legs was a different kind of throb that had started when the Englishman had told her she’d be punished. That throbbing had become a pulsating pressure between her legs by the time Nigel Simms had cradled her onto his lap. He smelled of leather and spices, and as she’d regained her composure in the safety of his strong embrace, she’d told herself there were a hundred different reasons why that secret place between her legs would thrum with such need. She was scared. She was nervous. She was confused. He’d bared her intimately. She had a list of excuses, but none of them included
want.
None of them included
need.

It made no sense. Why would such harsh correction result in such a hungry ache between her legs? She did not know, but she could not deny the need to touch herself where that ache centered.

Turning in front of the glass, she removed her gown and dropped it on the floor as she looked over her shoulder. She whimpered anew at the sight of her bottom. It was blotchy red from the spanking over Nigel’s lap, and marred by clean red lines one after another from the cane. Jenny turned again, forcing herself to look at the juncture between her thighs. She’d never really looked at herself, but she was so curious about the ache she felt, and so desperate to relieve it.

She’d had little education on carnal matters, but knew enough to know that what she felt was a private need, a woman’s need. And it was nearly as unbearable as the pain in her bottom. She could not relieve the latter. But the former?

Jenny’s hand strayed down to the downy curls. She flushed anew, the color creeping from her face all the way down to the tops of her full breasts. The springy fleece covering her pubic mound was wet. She slid her finger lower to the top of the cleft, and took a deep breath as for the first time she breached the slit, her fingertips seeking the force of the ache.

“Oh!” She cried the word out softly, for her own touch made the ache worse. It was as if her body was crying out to be stroked and soothed. The need was concentrated above the slick folds tucked inside the plump outer lips. Dragging her fingers up, she gasped at the sensation, her mind unwillingly flashing back to the first spanking she’d gotten from Cody, and the second from Nigel.

She bit her lip as she moved her fingers back and forth across a small nub that pulsed at her touch, begging for more. Jenny rubbed again, and the sensation of pleasure that coursed through her brought her to her knees. There was a gush of wetness and at first she thought she’d lost control of her bladder. But no, that was not it. When she withdrew her shaking hand, she could see it was slick with clear fluid that carried a light tangy smell. She flushed, remembering the same faint tang at Cora’s.
Lust.
Had Nigel been aware of it when he was punishing her? She closed her eyes, ashamed.

Oh, what must he think of me? What should I think of myself?

She again thought of May, thrashing her head back and forth, carried to a place of carnal pleasure by the attentions of two men. A prostitute, a slave to her own desires. She’d told herself she was nothing like that woman. But wasn’t she? May had tensed under one of the men—tensed and screamed. Jenny had tensed, had wanted to scream just moments before.

Oh, no. No. No. It’s bad.

Suddenly the juvenile dress seemed safer, more comforting—a reminder that she was the ward of these men and not their whore. Their attentions were—as the Englishman said—intended to be paternal. They were not intended to be carnal. And she had no business feeling pleasure when she should only feel remorse for her disobedience.

She hastily donned the stockings, undergarments, and pink dress, before washing her hands and face in the bowl on the washstand by the door. Next she braided her hair in two plaits, pleased when the image staring back at her looked every bit the pampered young girl and not the panting woman who’d stifled a scream as she’d stroked her aching core.

Now she sat in the kitchen, daintily and dutifully eating her food as the Englishman watched approvingly.

“You’ll find it gets easier, Jenny, submitting.” He’d finished his breakfast and was regarding her over his empty plate. “Cody said your brother indulged you and left you somewhat spoiled. This must be a very big change, having control stripped away.”

She flushed at this and concentrated on buttering the biscuit in her hand as she nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “Very much.”

“We want you to understand that it’s not all bad, living under our guidance. I personally plan to make sure you’re treated with an equal dose of discipline and coddling.” He smiled, his teeth white in his tanned face. “So tell me. What do you like to do when you’re not being stubborn?”

Jenny shifted on her seat. “I like to draw,” she said. “And I like to read.”

“You went to school?” he asked.

“My aunt insisted on it,” she replied. “She said I’d have a better chance of marrying a learned man if I could read and manage household books and budgets. Apparently, that requires reading, although I preferred novels.”

“When I next to go the general store I’ll buy some pencils and paper,” he said. “As for books, I have a few.”

“You do?” Her eyes grew wide.

“I couldn’t leave England without something from home, and you’ll be happy to know that I brought more than the cane. I also brought a few books from my childhood—adventure stories and poetry.”

When she smiled, he smiled back.

“If you finish that biscuit, then perhaps I can find some for you. You can pass the day committing poems to memory. It’s an excellent exercise.”

He was true to his word. Once the dishes had been cleared away, Nigel produced a slim volume and introduced Jenny to the poems of Wordsworth. She was disappointed to find reading some of the words difficult, but thrilled when Nigel flawlessly read the poems to her with pleasant affectation. After the first poem, he asked her if she’d like to sit on his lap as he read. At first Jenny thought to refuse; the feelings he awakened in her were frightening and unfamiliar. But she wanted to please him, so she sat again in the safe circle of his arms until the rhythmic words of an English poet lulled her to a feeling of complacency.

When the door opened, she was almost disappointed to have the reading interrupted. Cody stood in the doorway for a moment as if surprised by the sight that greeted him.

“Well, it seems as though you’ve settled in, Jenny,” he said as he took his hat off and hung it on the peg by the door.

“It didn’t start off that way, mate,” Nigel said, and Jenny stood and dropped her gaze, afraid to look at Cody as the Englishman recounted how he’d had to spank and cane her before breakfast.

“But we got it all sorted out, right, sweet Jenny?” The Englishman had concluded his account and now both men were looking at her. She squirmed under their gaze as she answered.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s just… I’m just not used to having to answer to anyone. Not like this.”

Nigel stood. “I need to get some more fire for the wood. There’s biscuits and ham in the oven if you’re hungry.”

“Of course I’m hungry,” Cody said as the Englishman headed for the back door.

“I could get your dinner for you,” Jenny said as Cody removed his jacket.

“No, I’ll do it.” The cowboy offered her an easy smile. “You look pretty, Jenny.”

“Thank you.” She looked down at the dress she’d not wanted to don. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful to you or Nigel. I know you weren’t expecting another mouth to feed, but really, Cody, I can earn my keep if you’ll just let …”

“We can talk about that some other time,” he said with a smile. “Right now I just want you to concentrate on feeling at home here, on seeing us as your family now that you’ve got no one left.”

Jenny felt a catch in her throat as his words hit her. He was right; she was alone save for the two men who had taken her in, rescued from the prospect of a loveless marriage. For the second time that day, she began to cry.

“There, there, Jenny,” Cody said, and pulled her into his arms. He felt different than the Englishman. He smelled different—like dust and musk and sunshine. But it wasn’t unpleasant, and neither was the feel of his corded arms as they held her close. This man, too, had spanked her, and would spank her again if it took that to keep her safe. Between her legs, the familiar throbbing began anew.

Jenny turned her tear-brimmed eyes toward his. The gaze that returned hers was bold and intense and caring. But why wouldn’t it be, she thought? He cared for her as any man would care for the sister of a dear friend. But still, the way he held her. He seemed to sense something, too, because after a moment he gently stepped back.

“Did you check my claim today?” she asked, eager to change the subject and redirect her thoughts.

“I did,” he said. “One of the neighboring miners—not Forbes—let me use his sluice box.” He smiled and reached into his pocket. “I found this.” He dropped a rock into Jenny’s hand. When she examined it closely, she could see a faint vein of gold threaded through it. She looked up at him. “Does this mean…?”

“I don’t know what it means,” he said. “It could be a fluke. Or it could be that there’s more. But to find out we need to dig. Both of us. And we need to know that you’re going to mind us, Jenny.” His voice took on a serious tone. “If you’re serious about what you say—that you appreciate that we took you in—then I need you to stay here with the cabin locked while me and Nigel go down to dig a little deeper on your claim and build our own sluice box there. Right now not many folk know you’re here, and I want to keep it that way. Can you stay here and keep quiet while we work? One of us will stay with you for a few more days, but after that I’m going to trust you to be a good girl here on your own while we work the claims together. That means staying put, understand?”