Mary Quite Contrary by Amelia Smarts
Chapter Seven
Mary regretted how she’d talked to Ben. She didn’t know why she had acted so disagreeably, when he was clearly only concerned about her well-being and eager to help her. But she didn’t know how to make things right, and he made no more mention of trying to court her. He did, however, continue to visit her at least once a week. She wished she didn’t feel so pleased about his visits. The moment she saw him swagger in, looking strong and confident, her heart would melt. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to find the right words to tell him that.
One evening, Mary prepared for bed early. She lit two coal-oil lamps and set one on the bedside table and one on the dresser next to the mirror. As she looked at her reflection, she undressed, imagining as she pulled every layer away from her body that she was undressing for Ben. She thought about how bright his eyes would appear in the moonlight as she unbuttoned the bodice of her dress, revealing as she did her generous breasts. They looked full and white, with hardened pink nipples pointed straight at the mirror.
She ran her hands around each breast. She imagined her hands were Ben’s hands. His fingers fondled and pinched each nipple hard enough to cause a burst of pleasurable pain before releasing.
She pushed her dress and petticoats down her hips so they pooled on the floor. Normally, she would take time to hang them for use later before they got wrinkled, but she couldn’t be bothered this time. She pushed the wad of clothing away with her foot and resumed her task of touching herself as Ben would touch her.
As she squeezed one breast, she glided her hand over the soft skin of her belly and beneath the fabric of her drawers. She felt the bristly cover over her mound and could hardly believe what she was doing when she allowed her fingers to wade between the split into the velvet warmth between her legs. It didn’t take long for her to find the nub of nerves where the slightest touch would cause sparks to shoot through her.
She wanted to be naked, to see herself as Ben would see her if he had her in his bed. She untied the drawstring of her drawers and cast them aside onto the pile of clothing. Now fully nude, she eyed her body—her ample breasts and narrow waist that curved into wide, fleshy hips. She turned around and looked at her backside over her shoulder. She had a large bottom, which she stroked with a hand that looked quite small in comparison. She gave one cheek a spank with the flat of her palm and watched as it jiggled under the impact. She spanked her other cheek, harder, and watched the effect of the impact.
She wanted to pretend that Ben was spanking her, but it was hard to do because she couldn’t spank herself hard enough with her hand to cause any real sting. It was then she decided she needed an implement, an extension of her arm to get more distance at which to strike her bottom. After thinking on it briefly, she decided the flat end of a hairbrush might work.
She located the brush on her dresser. It was made from birchwood and had a rose etched into the back. She tapped it on her bottom once and knew immediately that it would cause a fair amount of pain if she so wanted—and she did.
Returning to her place in front of the mirror, she turned around so that her bottom faced the mirror and she could look at herself being spanked. It was awkward, but after a few false starts, she managed to land a solid swat on her right cheek. She winced and watched with interest as an oval pink impression bloomed over her skin. She readied herself and decided she would take six full, hard swats and not allow herself to stop even though it would hurt.
She didn’t bother to look in the mirror. She knew it would take some concentration and balance to land every swat in the precise spot. She planned to strike first on the uppermost part of her thigh, then work her way up, overlapping each swat slightly until she landed the final one in the center of her right cheek. She drew a few deep breaths and began, spanking herself hard.
“Oh!” she cried out in pain, breathless from it, but even more aroused than before. She switched hands and administered the second round to her left cheek, allowing herself to cry out loudly but refusing to slow down or gentle the swats.
She looked at her bottom in the mirror. For all the pain, there was only a light pink tinge across her cheeks. She thought she would be bright red and swollen, for she had spanked herself hard—much harder than Ben had spanked her—and with an implement that burned like the dickens.
She would not have been able to explain what prompted her to do what she did next. All she knew was that she wanted to feel truly punished. She wanted to feel as though she was being spanked and it was not at all in her control. She wanted to think she was bent over Ben’s lap, pinned as she was before, receiving a stern whipping for doing something terrible.
Preparing herself mentally, she resolved to give each cheek twenty uninterrupted swats. She would administer ten to the right cheek, then switch without pause to the left, then back again to the right, and finally to the left.
She did as she planned. She wailed with pain as she laid every swat against her bare bottom, ensuring that every swat was at least as hard or harder than the previous. She didn’t ignore her thighs, making sure they received several of each round of swats, which were the most painful of all and caused her to shriek and hiss.
When it was over, she tossed the hairbrush aside and collapsed on her bed, bottom up, quivering and tightening her buttocks to try to relieve some of the sting. A few tears had escaped her eyes, but not as much as she might have guessed given the amount of agony she’d just put her bottom through. She rubbed her bottom gingerly, soothing away the pain and igniting desire at the same time.
Why she felt aroused, she had no idea. But she did. Her bottom still on fire, she rolled over so she was lying on her back, lifted the heels of her feet to her bottom, and spread her knees far apart. When she touched between her legs, she gasped. She was drenched, and her fingers became coated in her honey the moment she delved into her pussy. She rubbed and teased herself, pretending all along that Ben’s hand was fondling her pussy after having just spanked her bottom.
Feeling extravagantly naughty, she took a break from pleasuring herself to drag her mirror next to the bed. She tilted it in such a way that she could see her own pussy, the opening of her vagina, and the crinkled entrance of her bottom hole. She rubbed her hand around, tickling herself in places she knew would bring her pleasure, all the while watching her most intimate places being fondled and manipulated. Her bottom burned pleasantly, a constant reminder that Ben had punished her for being bad, and now he was attending to her bad desires. She drew her hand back and spanked herself, right over her pussy, catching her clit and the sensitive lower lips. “Bad girl. Bad girl,” she said to herself.
She continued to fondle and spank her most intimate place until finally she brought herself fully to the precipice of desire. As she cried out and vibrated her fingers over her clit, she pretended that Ben’s cock was plunging in and out of her, and she gasped with the sheer naughtiness of her imagination. She didn’t know how she would ever be able to look him in the eye again after this.
***
Months passed, and while Ben’s visits remained a constant, much changed in Thorndale. The marshal arranged for Willow to work on Heath Wolfe’s ranch, and soon the news circulated that Heath and Willow had fallen in love and were getting married. Mary wasn’t the only person who was shocked by this news. That the troublesome girl had seduced the county’s richest rancher was the talk around town for a long time.
Mary’s friend Victoria Davis was originally beside herself with shock and anger over the news, having planned to snag the rich rancher for herself. But a few months after that, Victoria would be the center of her own love story. Victoria drew the attention of Frank Bassett, the new schoolteacher in town. Once a cowboy by trade, he had injured himself so badly in a riding accident that he was no longer able to wrangle cattle, so he opted to wrangle the children of Thorndale. That her snobbish friend Victoria was actually allowing a crippled schoolmaster to court her surprised Mary even more than Willow’s engagement.
But Mary was happy for Victoria. And even though Willow had vandalized Mary’s restaurant, Mary was happy for her too. She couldn’t help but feel just a little bit sorry for herself, though. The other young women around her were finding love, while Mary’s days were filled from sunup to sundown cooking and cleaning. Of course, Ben came to her mind often. She wondered if he still cared about her, or if her contrary nature had ridded him of his desire for her. She tried to analyze his words and actions, but no clear answer revealed itself. His every good deed or word toward her could be explained away by his congenial personality.
It was strange, but her heart sank a little every time she saw him laughing or engaged in happy conversation with someone else. When he volunteered to help in various ways in the community, that too would bring her angst. It was all proof that Ben felt nothing particularly special toward her. He was just a good man, and Mary had managed to scare him away.