Claiming Catherine (Montana Maiden 1)

I had never been this close to a man before, certainly never sitting upon one. His broad hand held me about the waist, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast. Even through the heavy confines of my corset could I feel the searing heat at the contact. I sucked in a breath at the action, but knew he was now legally able to take liberties with me in any manner he chose. The fact that I longed for the kind of things I read about it the dime novel made Mr. Beecham's harsh words ring true.

The brothers accompanied us, forming a line as we moved southwest out of town, the sun working it's way behind the distant mountains in front of us. The men were a quiet group, content to remain silent on our way.

“My things!” I cried, surprised that Mr. Bridger could make me forget something so important with just his hand upon me.

“Your trunk's being brought out in the wagon by one of my men,” Mr. Bridger murmured against my hair. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll provide everything you will need. Your city clothes won't have use here.”

I thought his comment strange, although the endearment he'd used intimate and quite pleasurable. I didn't need my clothes? I knew it was bitterly cold in Montana in the winter, but surely my summer dresses would prove useful in the short term. I hadn't brought many other possessions, having been forced to sell them to pay off my father's debts after his death. The mail order bride service had been my saving grace, keeping me fr

om the poorhouse and potentially even more undesirable outcomes.

“The role and expectations of wife around here are different than what you're probably used to,” he added as we rode.

“Oh?” I asked, wondering what the variations might be.

“There are many things for you to learn. I was going to wait until we returned to the ranch, however perhaps now may be useful to start.”

I knitted my brow in confusion. “Useful, how?”

“You can't run away if you're sitting in my lap,” he answered.

I tensed against his body, still confined between his arms that held the reins. I worried my lip, for the first time fearful of the man I married. “And why...why would there be cause to run away?”

"Because I'm going to make demands on your body you never considered before."

"You agreed to...to no, um, no...intercourse." I whispered the word, glancing to see if his brothers heard. "Not until we know each other better."

"I wasn't referring to fucking."

Chapter Two

Jake

Catherine sat bolt upright as if she had something shoved up her ass. I'd make that a permanent reality for her soon enough, and the thought had me grinning. Every single man in these parts waited for the day to have a wife who always sat up straight and proper because he corked her ass. It was expected to be done as part of the wedding ceremony - a husband's duty, and a sign of a married woman - but she had no knowledge of our ways and no doubt would have protested such an activity in a fashion that would have forced me to punish her. Since that would inhibit her training to my ways, doing the corking at the ranch would be soon enough.

“I...I don't understand,” she murmured, her voice all husky. She darted glances at both Sam and Cole.

Her tentative words made my cock even impossibly harder. When she'd stepped down from the coach, I'd been pleased. Hell, I'd been thrilled beyond measure. She was even prettier than I could have hoped. Beautiful, even. Her hair was as dark as mine, but was thick and wild, fighting against the pins that held it up and off her neck beneath her bonnet. Her skin was fair, like cool cream. Her eyes were green, a deep emerald that I knew would darken when she was aroused, which would be a constant state for her soon enough.

She was tall for a woman, but still only rose in height to reach my chin. She was trim, but with delightfully ample breasts that would cause me constant distraction. I was definitely a man who favored breasts that were an abundant handful. Her hips flared wide beneath her skirts. I'd been rock hard since I first laid eyes upon her, and was thankful for her innocence to not recognize my uncomfortable situation. This, too, would be rectified by the end of the day. Her naiveté would help as she bent to my dominance, learned how a wife should comport herself, and how she would think solely about her body and how she could use it to please me.

Sam and Cole remained quiet; the slow gait of their horses had them loping along next to us, listening to the conversation. It was my job—and privilege—to enlighten Catherine to her duties. They'd have their own wives soon enough, and they were obviously learning how to be effective when it was their turn. Ranch life held little privacy. Their role as brothers-in-law would be much different than she was familiar.

“As my wife, your job is to meet my needs. I don't mean cooking and cleaning. I mean with your body. Fucking...and other things I'll instruct you on later. If you follow my rules and do what's expected of a wife without question, without complaint, you'll please me greatly, which means I will please you. My requirements are rigorous and different from the city folk, however, so I expect some difficulties? "

“Um...but....” Catherine stuttered, darted glances at Sam and Cole. "Do I have to..to fuck them, too? Is that what you mean?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper and her cheeks a bright red.

We shared more than most siblings, but I wasn't going to let either of my brothers have her. Her pussy was mine. Her ass was mine. And I wouldn't hesitate to use her whenever, and wherever, I chose. Therefore, Sam and Cole would see her in various stages of undress, most likely being fucked, often punished. In the short term, trained certainly. The Bridgers didn't keep the intimacies of marriage behind closed doors.

"Hell, no. As your husband, your body is mine."

I felt Catherine's body relax at those words.

“Is there anyone else at the ranch?” she asked.

“There are a few ranch hands, our cousin Grant - who is the foreman - and his wife, Maura,” I replied.

“Will I...do I have to—”