by Rue Chapman
Bella gritted her teeth as the coach hit a particularly large hole in the road, almost catapulting her into the lap of the leering salesman in the seat facing hers. She managed to avoid his grasping hands and gripped the looped strap at the side of her seat.
"Not much further now," the large, comfortable woman sitting beside her smiled. "I'll be that glad to get back to my Otis. Lord only knows what he's done while I was away; it'll take me a month o' Sundays to get the house back in good order again. The man doesn't know how to wash a plate. Or his own clothes. He'll be missing his Lottie, I know that. Ah, but he's a good man in other ways. And you can't expect them to be perfect, can you?"
Lottie nattered on comfortably about her Otis, and the ranch, and her visit to her daughter for the birth of her first grandchild. Bella nodded at the right moments and pretended to listen while her mind ran along the same path it had followed for the last four weeks.
Just one month ago Isabella Sophia Wincanton was living a perfect life. The only dark cloud was the loss of her mother when she was young, but she was the cherished only child of a loving, wealthy, and indulgent father. She was engaged to be married to her childhood sweetheart, Adam Majors, the son of her father's business partner. It was just three days to her wedding and the house was full of gifts and clothes and excited friends.
"... And the baby is such a dear little thing. Looks a little like Otis, but that'll change once she gets some hair..."
And then her world ended. Her father went to work one morning, sat down in his office, and died without a sound. The doctors said it was his heart -- it could have happened at any time.
"... Only in labour for ten hours, she was, which is good for a first..."
And suddenly there were problems - the business had lost a lot of money, and apparently it was all her father's fault. Joseph Majors, his business partner, tried to help, but it seemed the house and furniture had to be sold to cover the losses. All her treasured books, her mother's jewelry, even her fine gowns had to go. The wedding was cancelled - her father's funeral was held on the day that should have been her wedding day. By then Bella was numb to the disaster that had become her life.
"... I know he's been missin' me. He paid the schoolteacher in town to send me a letter tellin' me everything was doin' fine. Otis never had time to get any learnin' himself. But just sendin' the letter means he's missin' me somethin' dreadful..."
But it kept getting worse. Adam hadn't set a new date for the wedding, and he visited her less often. Her friends had all slipped away, too. A week before her house was to be sold she heard the news, whispered by one of the servants - one of the few who'd stayed hoping to be employed by whoever bought the house - that Adam's engagement had been announced. To one of those former friends of hers, Desiree, from a family as rich and established as hers had been just a week or so before.
"... And I've been missing the old coot, too. Besides, men get themselves into a mess o' trouble when their womenfolk are away for too long. He's still a fine-lookin' man, an' there's plenty that'd try to tempt him if they saw the chance..."
The next day Adam's father came to see her; he carefully explained that Adam had a position in society, and couldn't tie himself to the daughter of a proven thief... an impoverished daughter at that. But he had some good news - he'd found a position for her now that she had to earn her own living. A friend of his needed a governess for his children. The pay was low but she'd have a place to live. That place would be in another city, far away from everyone she knew, but that was really for the best, wasn't it...
"... I had such a fine time with my daughter and the bub. But I need to be back in my own home again. With my own man, too. A woman needs her man..."
And Bella had lifted her chin and looked him right in the eyes and said clearly, "Thank you, but I've made my own arrangements." After he left she sat for a moment then took a deep breath. She knew what she had to do. One of the serving maids had left recently after answering an advertisement in a newspaper - she'd gone to marry a man she'd never met. "Lawd, miss, a mail-order bride is still a wife; I'll have me own home and family instead o' workin' in someone else's house - and beggin' yer pardon miss, but 'tis always best to be th' mistress in a poor home than a maid in a rich one."
"...Yes, I need to be in my own home again, with my Otis..."
Before the day was out Bella had read the advertisements, and since time was pressing she'd spent some of her precious, dwindling stock of coins to send a telegraph message to the one she'd chosen.
"... And he'll be so happy to hear all about my visit. Pity he couldn't come too, but he couldn't leave the ranch..."
John. A good strong name. Her new husband-to-be was called John Dacey. She'd sent the telegraph message and waited five days for an answer, walking to the telegraph office twice a day then spending the rest of the time watching the auctioneer's men packing up her home and labeling her possessions ready for the sale. Maybe she should have answered more than one advertisement? Maybe she'd said the wrong things, hadn't sounded right for a farmer's wife? As the days went by she packed a bag with the few possessions she was allowed to keep - the family Bible, a locket with the only pictures she had of her parents, and the sort of sensible, plain clothes she thought a rancher's wife would need. And one pretty dress to be her wedding gown and probably her Sunday best for years to come. She tried not to think of all the treasured possessions that were gone - books, pictures, jewelry from her mother and grandmother, her treasured piano, bright gowns and satin slippers, even her childhood toys... the men were packing it all for sale as if it meant nothing. But she refused to shed a tear - she'd cried the day her father was buried but not a single teardrop since. She had to be strong now; nobody was going to hurt her again.
"... It's not an easy life on the land, my dear, but 'tis a good one, with the right man..."
She waited and worried. Had she made the wrong choice? But the telegraph was so expensive and she couldn't wait for a letter; she had no time. She'd done the best she could: 'Isabella, turned twenty, not tall, long brown hair, hazel eyes, strong, hard worker, can cook and clean.' Which was true. Her father insisted she work with the servants and learn about their tasks so that when she had her own home she'd know how to supervise them properly. Of course, she didn't work all day, day after day, as the servants did, but at least she knew what to do. Hopefully she'd do it well enough. How clean would a house on a ranch need to be?
"... And my Otis was the best catch in the county. Oh you should have seen us; we were a well-matched couple. He could wrestle any pig to a standstill in under two minutes, and I could milk every cow in the barn and still have time to set the cream and tend to the chickens before cooking breakfast..."
Finally the telegraph had a message for her. 'Sounds fine. Preacher ready. Come soon.'
She said goodbye to the servants - they were fond of the girl and sorry to see how her life had changed. The cook gave her a huge hug and a small handwritten book of useful recipes. "These'll be a help te ye in yer new home. Feed a man well an' he's easier te manage."
O'Halloran the coachman surreptitiously wiped away a tear. "Ye take care o' yerself, missy. Ye'll be travellin' through some wild country."
She didn't bother even trying to send a message to Adam or his father. Her old life was over. Now she was to be Mrs. John Dacey. She had just enough for the train ticket to take her halfway across the country, and then the stagecoach for the rest of the trip. It was a long, weary journey, days of hard seats as she bounced through the countryside - no more first-class travel for her - and nights in cheap lodgings with a chair pushed against the door handle as she lay awake huddled in the bed, or on a chair if the bed was crawling with bugs... and listened to the footsteps outside, the drunken laughter, the rattling of her door handle. She was exhausted and worried and still grieving for her father and her old life. Maybe things would start to improve now. She had to think of the good things that would happen from now on in her new life.
"... Does a man good te be married. My Otis needs me te keep him organized. Mind you, he has a way of keepin' me in line, too...," Lottie chuckled happily. "But that's one of the joys of bein' married to a real man. The men out here take real good care o' their womenfolk."
Bella's thoughts spun around again, onto a darker track that she'd tried to avoid during these long days while she was traveling to her new home. What kind of man had to advertise for a bride? Were women in such short supply out here? Or wouldn't any of the local girls accept him? Was he the rancher she imagined, tall and sandy-haired, tanned and strong. Hard-working and slow-talking. Or...was he short and bald and old? She had no idea of his age. Fat and piggy-eyed? Did he get drunk every night? Was he bad-tempered? She felt the panic rising again.
"... 'Tis a nice town, too, ye'll like it. 'Tis been such a long day traveling, I'll be glad to get home again. We should be there just before nightfall. Who are ye goin' to see there?"
Bella roused from her dark memories. "Who? Oh... he's called John Dacey." And would he be there to meet her? Or would she need to find a room - another very cheap room - in another cheap, dirty lodging-house and search for him the next day. Her stock of coin had dwindled to almost nothing. "Yes, I'm going to meet John Dacey." She hoped so, at least.
"Really? You're a friend of the family?"
"You know them?"
"Everyone knows the Daceys."
"John Dacey... you know him? What's he like?"
"Oh, I've known him since he was in short pants. He was such a nice little boy, always tumbling in and out of trouble with a smile. The Dacey boys were always getting into fights with the Warners - a family feud going back to their grandfathers. Sometimes my Otis would scoop them all up and drop them in the horse trough an' tell them te keep their feuds to themselves. Wild, the lot of them, but nice boys at heart."
"And... what's he like now?"
"He growed up real fine. A good man, he is. How do you know him?"
Bella felt something in her relax just a little. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. "Tell me... I noticed that there's a lot of advertisements in the newspapers, men out here looking for wives. Is there a shortage of women?"
"Not so bad as it used to be. But we have so many men moving out here to start a new life - never ask what happened to send a man out here; 'tis better not to know - and there just aren't as many women. Not ones that any decent man would marry, anyway. I don't count those trollops in the bars and bawdy houses as women worth marrying." She pursed her lips in distaste. "Painted hussies they are. Tempting honest men into bad ways."
So he'd been a nice boy who grew into a good man, and there was no bad reason for him to advertise for a bride... Bella smiled for the first time in weeks. Finally her life was taking a better turn. It was going to work out well after all.
The coach jolted again worse than ever throwing the occupants into a heap on the floor. When they disentangled themselves and escaped the grabby hands of the traveling salesman, they realized the coach had stopped. Suddenly the door swung open, tumbling the salesman out onto the dusty road. A large shape filled the doorway. "Where's the bride?"
Lottie squinted at the man looming over them. "Zeke Warner, is that you? What do you think yer doin'?"
"Where's John Dacey's little lady? I know it's not you, Lottie Chapman. So it must be this tasty little piece." He gave an evil grin and grabbed Bella's wrist.
Lottie shrieked in dismay. "Zeke Warner, you behave yourself. This silly feud between your families has gone far enough!"
"Settle down, Lottie, I'm just going to visit a while with Dacey's bride. I want to get to know my sweet new neighbour."
Lottie gave another desperate cry. "It's the second week in July, isn't it! Ohhh Zeke, don't do anything foolish. Go home and sober up; ye only get drunk but once a year. Why did she have to arrive now! Leave the girl alone, Zeke. Ye know ye'll be so sorry later. This isn't you, 'tis the liquor speakin'. Let her be, please, don't do anythin' foolish!"
And while Lottie was still wailing, Bella found herself pulled roughly out of the coach, tumbled down onto the road, then whisked along too fast to stop him before being thrown up onto horseback. In an instant her captor was behind her, his arms imprisoning her. The horse wheeled and was urged into a gallop, and soon the coach was out of sight and they were riding through rough country.
Bella squirmed against his hard chest trying to escape, but his arms were like steel. She could feel his breath hot on her cheek and smell the spirits on it. She twisted to look at him, taking in the dark hair, hard coal-black eyes and unshaven cheeks.
"Mr Warner... Zeke... please... I need to go back to the coach, please..."
He didn't answer, didn't even look at her. The horse galloped on into a wooded area, finally slowing as they reached a broken-down cabin in a clearing. "Here we are. Home sweet home. At least for tonight." He dropped Bella to the ground.
She hit the ground running but was caught before she reached the trees, tossed over his shoulder and carried back towards the hut. To her shock and outrage, a heavy hand smacked her rear twice as he carried her along. "Settle down, girl, or you'll not sit comfortably for a week."
"Let me go, you drunken boor!"
He dropped her in a heap on the ground. "Anything you say, Princess. Now get yourself inside or I'll give you some help to get moving."
His hand mimed another smack. Bella scrambled to her feet and backed into the hut as he grabbed the saddlebags from his horse and followed her inside.
Bella flattened herself against the wall and watched as the drunken oaf kicked at the half-burnt logs in the fireplace, struck sparks from his flint and managed to get a small fire burning. She glanced around. The roof had fallen in at one corner, but the rest of the hut seemed solid. There was a rough table, a couple of benches to sit on, and a narrow bed against the wall beside her.
She gasped as her captor came towards her, the leaping firelight sending dark shadows across his face. Bella crossed her arms in front of her in an attempt at protection.
He watched her movements and grinned. "Don't get your hopes up, Princess, you're not going to have your wicked way with me. We're just going to spend an innocent night here. Together. And tomorrow morning I'll return you to Dacey and thank him for his bride's company for the night."
Bella gaped at him. "But... what if... what if he thinks we... he might not want to marry me after that!"
Zeke shrugged. "I'm sure a resourceful girl like you will find herself another man. Or men. If you sell yourself to one, you can sell yourself to others, right? Girls like you, pretty girls who'll take any man who comes along, always have a way to make a living."
Hearing her deepest fear spoken out loud - that she'd finally have no other choice but to become one of those desperate, 'bawdy' women Lottie so despised - broke something inside her. Before she knew it her hand had swung hard and fast, slapping against his grinning face so powerfully that he was rocked backwards a step. All the grief, shock, fear and anguish of the last four weeks went into that blow, and for one glorious moment she felt a rush of release, even victory.
Then he stepped forward again, a white mark on his cheek quickly burning bright red. Slowly he raised his hand to rub at the shape of her hand printed on his face.
His voice was quiet and very calm. "That's the one you get for free, Princess. And a good strong one it was, too. Now get yourself over to the fire and go through those saddlebags. There's enough there for you to make us a meal. Earn your keep, girl."
"I'd rather starve than eat your food!"
"Your choice." He shrugged, turned away, and hunkered down by the fire, opening the saddlebags and starting to toss bundles out onto the floor.
Bella watched for a few moments, then started to edge towards the doorway.
"Not one more step, Princess." He didn't even turn his head. How did he know...?
Bella checked the distance to the door. Maybe she could move fast enough.
"You'll never make it, and you won't like the penalty for trying."
Damn the man, how did he know what she was thinking?
But he was kneeling down and she was on her feet. She was a fast runner, it was almost full dark now - if she could get into the trees then she'd have a good chance of escaping. And she'd rather tell her intended that she spent a night wandering lost in the woods than in this cabin with the evil, drunken lout in front of her.
He grabbed something else out of the saddlebags with a satisfied grunt, and raised a bottle to his lips.
Now or never. In an instant she was through the door and running. Not in a straight line, she whisked around the corner of the cabin - that'd give her a moment more cover and maybe confuse him for a precious second or so.
And then she ran, fleeing for the shelter of the shadowy trees.
She did so well. She was only a step or two from safety when strong arms scooped her up. She was tossed over his shoulder again, one hard hand clapping the seat of her skirts all the way back to the cabin. Bella kicked and wriggled, but she was powerless. She pounded her fists against his back. "You can't do this to me! Let me GO!"
"I can and will do this to you, Princess. And I'll let you go when I'm good and ready." Once again she was dropped into an undignified huddle on the floor, instantly springing up in a fury and trying to push him away. She shoved against his chest, hating the smirk on his face as he easily stood against her lesser strength. Her arms flailed wildly, desperate to get away from him. He laughed at her as he blocked the blows, enraging her even further. And then, by pure ill-chance, one swinging arm evaded his and once again her hand slapped hard against his face.
She gaped in shock, she'd had no idea of aim or intent. For one long, silent moment he was still.
Then he moved faster than she could see. In less than a second he was sitting on one of the benches, and for the first time in her life Bella found herself face down across a man's strong thighs. She was already struggling to right herself when she felt her skirts being lifted, raised slowly up to her thighs. Then to her horror they were thrown across her back, falling down around her head and shoulders, imprisoning her in a muffled world of fabric.
Bella froze as she felt his hand resting on the seat of her soft cotton drawers.
"Princess, I told you that you only got one for free. For the next one, you pay. And you're going to pay in full."
The sound of a loud slap once again echoed in the tiny hut. Bella's back arched up, her head was flung back and her feet kicked out. This was the first time she'd ever been punished this way, and already she hated it.
A second slap fell on her seat, and Bella squealed in fury. Her wild struggles only served to tangle her head and arms in her skirts, but her legs kicked out frantically.
Another hard slap, and furious complaints issued from the wriggling bundle of clothing. Her wild kicking almost took her off his lap, so Zeke gathered her closer to him and then let fly with a dozen stinging swats to her wriggling seat.
Bella was furious; she'd never been treated this way and wasn't going to accept it. But there didn't seem to be any way to stop it, and that made it even worse.
And each swat, each outrageous smack, added to the heat that was building on her poor rear end. It was so unfair, he had no right...she'd only slapped him once. Well, twice. Not a dozen times!
Finally it stopped, and Bella sagged in relief. And then came the worst moment of all. She felt a slight tugging at her waist, and then she realized he was untying the ribbons on her drawers. Bella shrieked in horror as she felt the soft cotton being pulled down over her hips. Her struggles resumed, more panicked than before. She could feel the fabric tearing as he stripped her modesty away.
She was terrified - he could do anything. This was the most frightening, most embarrassing position of her life. And then he slapped her squirming bottom. And she discovered that there's a world of difference between a spanking over clothing, even the slight protection of her undergarments, and a bare-bottomed spanking.
A second stinging smack fell, and a high-pitched screech issued from the bundle of clothes on the floor.
"Ready to pay, Princess? Now that you're nicely warmed up?"
"Nooooooo...!"
And it started. Half a dozen hard, fast smacks covered her left cheek, then the same on her right. And then again, and again, until both cheeks glowed a bright pink.
Bella kicked, fought, wriggled, squealed, and nothing worked. Tangled in her skirts, all she could do was wail her fury and distress.
Then he concentrated on her lower cheeks, he seemed to know just how to punish those tender spots. One stinging smack after another fell on her throbbing lower cheeks until she could barely feel each new one, just the searing fire.
Still Bella shrieked and struggled, determined not to give in, determined not to cry. And just as she thought she couldn't take any more Zeke stood up, spilling her onto the floor yet again.
"Payment in full. Well, I did go a bit easy on you, since we've just met and all. But I think you'll remember your manners in future, Princess." And without a backward glance he strode over to the fire, kicked the embers back to a satisfying flame, and settled down to take another swig from his precious bottle of liquor.
Bella lay where he'd dropped her; she couldn't believe what had happened. She'd had her bottom bared and spanked. By a stranger. Her bare bottom, which was now burning and throbbing. She'd been punished on her bare cheeks. Bare. Bottom bare.
And it was still bare, blazing in the shadowy room. Awkwardly she scrambled to her feet, it took several tries to disentangle herself from her twisted skirts, then she carefully pulled her tattered drawers back into place and hurriedly knotted the ribbons again.
Bella wouldn't go anywhere near the fire and the monster squatting there nursing his liquor. He'd spanked her. On her bare bottom. He hadn't taken any other liberties, thank the lord. But ohhh how it stung! She wriggled, trying to shake the fierce sting away. She tried to rub her seat, but it hurt to put any pressure on her poor sore bottom.
She sat down on the bench, then sprang up again. Sitting wasn't going to happen for a while. She shuddered briefly at the thought of riding that horse back to town tomorrow. Surely the throbbing would be gone by then?
Bella leaned her shoulders against the wall and glared at her captor.
"Sulking, Princess? Come over here and share this bottle with me."
"I don't touch hard liquor."
"Your loss." He took another swig.
The fire crackled and died low. Finally Bella broke the silence. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you get drunk once a year?"
He didn't answer.
A gentle snore was heard, then another. Bella leaned forward to look at him. He was asleep.
Well, she wasn't going to let him terrorize her and boss her around. Not while he was asleep, anyway. Carefully, step by tiny step, she slid along the wall to the doorway, then scuttled outside and ran for the woods. This time there were no following footsteps.
Once she was among the trees she slowed down a little and tried to remember the direction back to the road. But the trees always seemed to be in her way, turning her around. And it was too dark to see where she was going. She tripped over stones and fallen trees time and again, bruising her hands and knees. But, determined not to be caught again and spanked again, she pushed on. A twisted root caught her foot. She stumbled again, but this time as she fell her head hit a stone, and then the darkness took her. Bella lay crumpled on the ground, still and silent.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.