Who doesn't love a good western? If it features a handsome, old west lawman, even better.
In Marshal's Law, Aaron Jackson is that lawman, both for the town of Laramie Wyoming, and in his household way back when in 1878. His bride from the twenty-first century, however, is having a hard time figuring that out.
*****
Crossing to her dressing table,
he picked up her wooden hairbrush and took a seat on the bench. Patting his
lap, he signaled where he wanted her. “Let’s get on with this, darlin’. It’s
been a long day.”
“You aren’t seriously going to
spank me with my own hairbrush, are you, Aaron?”
“I told you that when you don’t
learn a lesson, the severity increases. This is the third time I’ve found you
wandering about alone. You’ve felt my hand twice already and didn’t learn. Now
we’ll see if the brush makes a more lasting impression. Pardon the pun.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I’m your husband, honey; you
don’t get to refuse me. I’d much rather you cooperate and accept the
consequences for your actions, but if you don’t, I’ll simply put you over my
lap myself. But if that happens, you will definitely feel the strap. So, I
recommend you act like the dutiful and obedient wife you vowed to be and get
your little butt over here now.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she
hesitantly took a half step toward him. She knew he was a spanker when she’d
said, “I do”. At the time, it had seemed like the lesser of two evils. She had
also promised not to go off all alone, but she had. “What was I supposed to do,
Aaron? I was worried, and three hours had gone by.”
“You are supposed to do as you’re
told and stay where I put you. If I can’t find you, I worry, and today I almost
lost my mind. You left without leaving a note. For all I knew you had been
taken or were hurt somewhere. I keep telling you this is still a rough town for
the most part. We have only about five thousand residents, but we still employ a
full time sheriff and ten deputies. That’s a 500:1 ratio, which is unheard of. Plus,
I make this my home base because there is constantly something going on. Murders,
rape, thefts, and drunken brawls happen here daily. In the past month alone,
two innocent girls have been taken off the street and were found days later
forced into servitude at one of the brothels. That could just as easily have been
you today.”
Janelle gasped, and her hand
flew to her mouth in alarm.
“So, when I tell you to stay at
home, where I feel you are safe, I expect you to follow my rules. If it takes a
spanking with my hand, paddle, strap, or switch every day, I will do it to keep
you safe. Now, before I get riled up again, I expect you to get over here as I
have asked repeatedly.”
“If you had told me that before,
it would have made more sense.” Inching slowly closer, she hung her head. He
was the marshal. He had firsthand knowledge about the crimes in Laramie, and
she had disregarded his wishes.
“How many times did I warn you
that Laramie is a dangerous place? My reluctance to live in town didn’t impress
that point upon you? Furthermore, I don’t make a point of talking about brutal
murders and assaults with women. It’s not an appropriate topic. You are going
to have to learn to trust me. I don’t make rules arbitrarily or on a whim,
Janelle. I am the law in this town, and when I make a law in my own household,
it will be obeyed.”
She arrived at his side and found
she couldn’t meet his gaze. She should have done as he’d told her. Her
disobedience and recklessness could have gotten her killed, raped, or forced
into prostitution.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t listen,
Aaron. I didn’t know.”
“You don’t have to know, darlin’.”
He nudged up her chin so she was looking at him before he said emphatically, “what
you have to do is trust me.”
She nodded her agreement, feeling
horribly guilty for worrying him and disobeying. She surprised herself by
acknowledging that she deserved this spanking.
“Lower your drawers and lay
across my thighs.” He waited patiently, expecting obedience from her.
Moving into position, she felt
his hands at her waist, guiding her. Once her belly rested across his thighs,
he angled her forward, which lifted her feet off the floor. With a small squeal
of alarm, she instinctively sought to steady herself, one hand reaching for the
floor, the other gripping his pant leg. It wasn’t necessary though, because
Aaron had firm control of her body. His strength would never allow her to fall
on her face; neither would it allow her to struggle and break free. His right
leg wrapped around both of hers, and she was anchored firmly in place.
“Give me your right hand.” She
reached back until his unyielding fingers wrapped around her wrist and bent her
arm up and out of the way. “I’ll begin with my hand and finish with the brush. I
expect you to learn your lesson this time, Janelle. I don’t want to have to
teach it again.”
*****
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