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"What...what are you doing here?" I asked. Fear swept through me like an icy wind.
"I came for you, of course. You don't think being married would stop me, do you?" Mr. Wainright replied, his arm in a cloth sling. My shot had hit the mark, although it hadn't hurt him enough to stay away for good. He must be in extremely desperate straits to return. He wore a traveling suit, complete with white starched collar and tie, quite formal for Liberty.
Oh God, the man was deranged.
"Look at you," he pointed at my breasts. "You have one sick husband. A blouse that shows your breasts? What are those things on your nipples, and why do you have them tied to your wrists?"
I remembered the man was from Billings, which was far from Liberty. Clearly he didn't know the town's unusual rules. From what Mr. Bridger, Doctor Graham, and even the sheriff said, my wardrobe and the way my ass was filled was perfectly normal for a wife. After seeing Catherine being tended by her husband on our dining room t
able and how Tessa took Cole's cock down her throat, the things Mr. Bridger did to me were perfectly normal. But Mr. Wainright wouldn't know that.
I didn't deign him with an answer. He'd already made up his mind by just looking at me.
"Where is your husband?"
"He's--" I licked my lips. "He's not here, but he'll be back any minute."
I didn't know what time it was, so I had no idea when he'd return from the stable.
"I don't believe you. He's twisted, perverted and neglectful. You're not worth much to him. To me, you're worth tens of thousands. I want that ranch of yours and I'm going to get it."
I held my hands out in front of me. "How? What belonged to me is now the property of Mr. Bridger."
He shrugged casually, but I knew he had a devious plan. "Ransom. Enough talk. You're coming with me."
Mr. Wainright stalked closer, like a mountain lion circling its prey. I tried to evade, but he grabbed my wrist, which had the nipple trainer pulling painfully on my nipple. I cried out, but he didn't hear me, or didn't care, so I kept up to his quick pace so that it wouldn't happen again.
Dragging me outside and around to the side of the house where he'd left his horse, reins dangling while it nibbled on the grass, I realized he intended to take me away. I couldn't let him do that. What would Mr. Bridger think? Would he find me gone and believe I'd run away just like Sarah? Would he think I'd wanted to leave? Would he even be able to find me?
I wasn't thrilled to have a plug in my ass. I wasn't thrilled to have my nipples tugged and worked by the trainers. I wasn't thrilled to have my hands tied in a way that prevented me from touching myself. That didn't mean I wanted to leave.
Mr. Bridger had said that if I pleased him, he would pleasure me. He hadn't lied. He'd never lied to me. His word was his honor and he'd proven it to me over and over. I was the center of his world; he tended to me, took care of me, protected me, and cherished me. So by filling my ass or wearing nipple trainers, I pleased him. My body was his to do with as he wished. In return, he pleasured me. Not just physically, not with making me come, which he did with an incredibly high frequency, but in being my husband. In being with me, in just being him.
I couldn't let Mr. Wainright take me away, so I screamed and kicked at his shin with all my might. It slowed him down, startled him even, but didn't sway him. In fact, it had him walking faster to get to his horse.
"You little whore. When we get to Billings, you're going to pay for that. I'm sure you've learned many things from that pervert man of yours."
Lifting me up, he bodily tossed me up on his horse. As he was mounting, one foot in the stirrup, I tossed my legs over the horse's neck, lifting my skirts so they wouldn't get caught, and jumped down on the opposite side. I landed, feet first, with a hard jolt. I didn't wait. I didn't look back to see if he followed. I didn't do anything except run as fast as I could. I came around the corner of the house and ran toward the stable. It wasn't close - a five minute walk across open prairie to reach it - and it seemed so far away as I tried to get to Mr. Bridger.
Hoofbeats followed me, getting louder and louder.
"Sam!" I screamed, although I was already gasping for breath. My hair had come free and flowed down my back. Sweat coated my skin and my breasts bounced with each jarring step. My long skirt tangled about my legs. "Sam!"
It might have been a rock or maybe my skirts tripped me up, but I stumbled and fell forward into the grass with a jarring thud. My lungs burned and I couldn't catch my breath, but I could clearly hear Mr. Wainright approaching. Oh God, he was going to grab me and take me away. I was too tired to fight him further.
"Get the hell away from my wife."
Mr. Bridger. Oh, thank God! My shoulders slumped in relief knowing he was there to protect me. I turned my head to see my husband upon a horse, gun in hand, the animal breathing hard and the flanks dripping with sweat. He raised the weapon and fired two shots in the air, both loud retorts making me flinch.
Mr. Wainright was also on his horse, but did not move closer to me. I crawled on hands and knees, creating as much distance as possible between the cruel man and myself. I heard shouting in the distance, saw men run out of the barn, the stable and mount up to head in our direction. It seemed the shots not only made Mr. Wainright leery; they were a call for help.
"You took her from me."
"I took her," Mr. Bridger agreed, his jaw tense. He was relaxed in his seat, but there was a harsh energy about him, ready to shoot the man dead if required.
"She was mine."
"Treating her this way means you don't really want her. What do you really want?"
