Dominating Devney (Montana Maiden Series Book 3) Read online

  The next two days fell into a routine of sorts. Devny’s arousal would wake her in the middle of the night, then again at first light, which I happily slaked in bed. After bathing, she'd get her pill and a smaller plug; I wanted her to solely focus on her pussy being fucked, not her ass. I'd even placed a dildo on the wall in the dining room just like in the stable, although the size was closer to my cock and she didn't become quite so frustrated with it. She'd ride the dildo, either in the house or stable, for long stretches of time before I’d pull her off, spread her wide and fuck her. Only when I was cramming her full would she come.

  I put the trainers on her for short durations and let her rub the ointment into her tender nipples when they were bare. There was negligible change in their length; it would take months for them to begin lengthening, and perhaps only then after the use of more rigorous means such as dangling weights, and that was something I was uncertain about implementing. The rope I left affixed to her wrists just wrapped the slack around each until the trainer dangled like a charm on a bracelet. It seemed to be an excellent deterrent for touching herself; in fact, she hadn't touched her clit in days.

  The biggest perk behind full heat was that she was extremely compliant. She was not disobedient or the least bit contrary, which meant no more spankings. Her mind was too focused on coming to think otherwise, and I was able to make great strides in her training. She reveled in being seen fucking the wall dildo in the stable; I ensured the men came in and out and commented on her greedy pussy, although no one touched her, let alone got anywhere near her. When she was finally ready to come, close to the brink, yet unable to achieve orgasm alone, I leaned her over any free surface in and around the stable and fucked her, hard and long. And she loved it as much as I.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Devney

  "Wake up, baby," Sam murmured, his warm breath against my nape. He kissed behind my ear.

  "Mmm," I mumbled, pleased to be woken in such a way. I responded so easily to his touch, because with everything he did to me, with me, he brought me such great pleasure. I'd lost the fear of him hurting me; he was now my safe place. Stretching, I felt the changes in my body; my nipples were sore and tingly, my ass was filled, although with a much smaller plug. My pussy, too, was a little sore, but it was perpetually wet, perpetually greedy, just as Mr. Bridger had said.

  The bed was soft and warm, the scent of my husband's heated skin mixed with the musky tang of late night fucking filled the air. Soft light came through the window.

  "It's time for your first fuck, baby, then I can get you ready for the day and I can head to the stable."

  I responded not by words, but by shifting into the position he liked when he took me in bed--on my stomach with my knees tucked beneath me and spread wide. I placed my head on my pillow and my fingers grabbed hold of the wooden slats of the headboard.

  "So wet, I see," he murmured as he knelt behind me and lined his cock up so the broad head opened up my pussy lips. In one slow stroke, he filled me to the hilt. Instead of his usual hard pace, he went slower this morning, more leisurely, letting my pleasure build and simmer in a most taunting way before finally grabbing my hips and working me the closer he came to his own. I came first, but Mr. Bridger quickly followed.

  "I swear, baby, your pussy milks the seed right from my cock when you come so hard like that."

  I grinned lazily, my eyes closed, savoring the comfort of the bed, my sated, replete body and a very attentive husband.

  ***

  An hour later we were both dressed and finishing our breakfast. Mr. Bridger had put a new plug in my ass, this one even smaller. It had me questioning what he had planned if this was so diminutive. My answer came as we finished our coffee. "Today you'll wear your nipple trainers for longer periods of time. Unwind the rope for me, baby."

  The trainers were intense. The stretch of my nipples was constant and it created a dull throb that spread to my pussy. There was no question that it caused my pussy to be copiously wet. I wanted to touch myself, to run my fingers through the slickness, but the ropes wouldn't allow it. The tug on an already stretched nipple was indeed painful. So far, I'd had a reprieve after a few hours and I'd rubbed the thick ointment into the red, abused tips. Now though ... longer?

  "It's too much."

  "What is, baby? The trainers? They're not hurting you, are they?" He looked down at my nipples, thrust up and toward him, as well as fully exposed by the corset and blouse. They were no longer soft pink, now they were a bright, heated red, puffy and swollen from the long term stretching.

  "It doesn't...hurt." I bit my lip and thought about how to explain it. "It's a never ending pull. It's very uncomfortable and the tips are sore."

  He gently ran the pads of his fingers over the tender flesh. I gasped at the contact. "They should be sore. That means they're stretching. I can see a difference already."

  I looked down at myself as well. "You can?" The only difference I could see was how worked they were.

  He nodded, but kept his gaze on my nipples. "Besides, it can't be all bad. Your pussy's soaking wet after I take them off. That's why I always fuck you as soon as I remove them."

  My inner muscles clenched at the idea.

  "Now, let's get these back on you so I can get some work done." He picked up one trainer and placed it so it surrounded a nipple, took hold of the tender tip and pulled it out so that it fit in the smaller ring, crimped it closed.

  I hissed at the sensation.

  Without pause he did the other until my nipples were pulled taut and caught within the metal contraptions. The thin lengths of rope dangled down to my wrists.

  "Perfect." His green eyes met mine. "The trainers will stay on until the midday meal, so you may stay here this morning instead of coming to the stable. With the ropes on your wrist, I have no fear of you touching yourself. You may read, nap, whatever you wish. You may avail yourself of the dildo on the wall. If you need to come, you may walk down to the stable, or you may wait until I return."

  "Yes, Mr. Bridger," I said, giving him a small smile.

  "Good girl." He kissed my temple and grabbed his hat hanging on the peg by the door

  ***

  I must have fallen asleep because I was surprised to hear someone stirring in the house. I was on our bed, curled up on top of the covers. I got up to meet my husband, but stopped in the hallway. A man was silhouetted by the bright sun shining through a window behind him. I knew it wasn't Mr. Bridger by his size. This man was shorter and slimmer. The hair on the nape of my neck rose. No man on the ranch had ever been alone with me before, only with Mr. Bridger present. He wouldn't allow it. I knew that I was his and his alone. He was very possessive - and I loved it.

  "Thought you'd get away, you little slut," he said, the man's voice harsh and angry.

  Panic set in at his words. I backed up into the bedroom and slammed the door. Frantically, I searched for some way to bar his passage and grabbed the wooden chair. Before I could set it in place, the door swung in and crashed into the wall.

  "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?"

  Mr. Wainright's look was venomous. "The ranch! She had it all, until you took it!"

  Cole, Jake and two ranch hands rode up to form a line by me. Jake slipped from his animal and knelt beside me.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, helping me up, carefully assessing me for major injuries.

  I nodded, afraid if I did more I might burst into tears. The pent-up energy was ebbing away and I was raw and emotional.

  He put his arm about my shoulders and led me over to Mr. Bridger's horse. Without glancing down at me, my husband reached down, grabbed me about the waist and lifted me to sit on his lap as if I weighed little more than a feather.

  "Go," Jake told him. "We've got him. We'll be sure he gets what he deserves. You take care of Devney."

  I felt Mr. Bridger's thigh muscles tighten as he directed the horse to turn away, heading back to our house. He didn't speak until he'd carried me inside and sat me upon the dining room table. "Look at me, baby," he whispered, tilting my chin up.

  His green eyes were intense, searching. "Are you hurt? Did he harm you in any way?" He stroked my hair back from my face.

  His soothing words had the dam holding my tears at bay break and I sobbed against his chest, hearing his heart beating and enveloped in his clean, male scent. He stroked my back and just let me cry. I didn't know how long I remained there, safe in his tight embrace, but eventually, finally, I'd run out of tears. Only then did he pull back.

  "Let's get a look at you," he murmured, wiping the tears off my cheeks with his thumbs. He knelt down in front of me. With his large size, his head was directly in line with my breasts. "The trainers got yanked off." Lowering his hands, he carefully, oh so gently, touched my nipples. "I don't see any cuts. Are they sore?"

  In my mad dash to escape Mr. Wainright, I hadn't even felt the trainers tug free. Now that my energy was spent, they were definitely sore. "Yes," I whispered.

  Slowly, as if he didn't want to scare me, he ducked his head and licked a tender nipple, covered it with his mouth and soothed it. His tongue was warm, gentle and it eased the pain. I tangled my fingers in his hair as he moved back and forth, from one to the other, applying the same tender ministrations. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at me, his dark lashes fringing his dark green eyes. "Better?"

  "Yes," I whispered again.

  "I want to inspect every inch of you. Every inch of what's mine." He stood to his full domineering height. Reaching around behind me, he undid the buttons on my blouse, pulled it free and stripped it off me. He lifted me from the table and had me face away from him to undo the corset, letting it fall to the floor on top of the blouse. The skirt was next, followed by my shoes and stockings.

  "Bend over, baby."

  I leaned over the table and sighed when the coolness of the surface soothed my swollen nipples. I felt a finger run over my pussy. "Did he touch you here?" His voice dropped an octave.

  I shook my head.

  "Mine," he growled.

  "Yours," I replied, nodding my head.

  He worked the plug from my ass, placed it on the table. "How about here?" He tapped my ass.

  "Yours," I repeated, then gasped as he slipped the very tip of his finger into the opening.

  "Up on the table, baby." My husband maneuvered me as he wanted, positioning me on my back with my legs spread wide, my knees falling open, just like the f
irst time he'd seen me unclothed and touched me in the doctor's office. It was like we were coming full circle and he was relearning me, re-staking his claim on my body. "So beautiful," he murmured. "You're mine, Devney. I won't let anyone have you." His hands were between my thighs, touching my pussy, running his fingers through my wetness, arousing me, reassuring me.

  I thrashed my head from side to side. "I'm yours," I reiterated. "You saved me. I don't want anyone else. I want you."

  His eyes glittered with desire at hearing my words, hearing the truth in them. I needed Mr. Bridger to control my body, to give me all of my pleasure. "I need to claim what's mine." He tugged me down to the edge of the table where he lined his beautiful, hard cock up with my weeping pussy.

  "Oh, Mr. Bridger--" I sighed, knowing he would take care of me in every way.

  "I think you can call me Sam now," he replied, his voice guttural as he filled me completely. Dominated me.

  I was his.

  Vanessa Vale

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