Shana's Guardian
Date: 2012-12-22T22:00:00+00:00
Description: Shana's twenty-fourth birthday hovers on the horizon like a death sentence. She's the oldest eligible woman in Jackson Settlement, and she dreads the day her guardian, Uncle Daman, announces her marriage. Her feelings for her widowed uncle are complicated, especially because they aren't related by blood. Daman is a strict man who wields a mighty paddle, but Shana has grown to love him wholeheartedly in the years after her parents' death. To her surprise, he proposes they get married. Of course, he's upfront with her about his expectations in a wife. If she marries him, she'll be subject to spa
Publisher: Blushing Publications

Shana’s Guardian

By

Sue Lyndon

©2012 by Blushing Books® and Sue Lyndon

Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Sue Lyndon

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Blushing Books®,
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Lyndon, Sue

Shana’s Guardian

eBook ISBN:  978-1-60968-948-3

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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Chapter 1

Shana glanced at the sun as it kissed the horizon.  A knot formed in her stomach when the tall solar lanterns on the street flickered to life.  She took off running.  She should’ve had dinner on the table already, but she’d gotten sidetracked at the library.  Mary Miller, the oldest citizen in the settlement, had been telling stories to the children about the Old Days.  Despite the fact she’d been on an errand to pick up a book for her uncle, Shana had sat down on the floor with all the bright-eyed boys and girls and absorbed every word that fell from the old lady’s mouth.  Mary’s mother had been around before The Fall – before the deadly combination of a terrible plague, a great war, and severe solar flares across North America that destroyed a grand way of living.  The little old lady had rattled on and on about electricity, cell phones, fancy cars, shopping malls, computers, and something called a dishwasher.  Of course, now Shana was late and Uncle Daman would be displeased.

She clutched the battered copy of 1984 to her chest and turned down the dirt street that led to his house.  After her parents died when a sickness swept through their nearby settlement when she was fifteen, Shana had come to Jackson Settlement to live with her only remaining relative.  It had been weird at first – sharing a house with the man who’d briefly been married to her mother’s sister.  After all, he was only ten years her senior and they weren’t related by blood.  Daman had never taken a second wife, which Shana found strange.  He wasn’t hard on the eyes, and women practically flung themselves in his direction – until they realized he wasn’t interested and moved on to their next male target.

As Shana crept up the creaky porch steps, she said a silent prayer that her uncle wouldn’t be out of sorts over her tardiness.  Perhaps he was busy in his workshop and not yet aware of how much time had passed since he’d sent her to fetch the book.  A shiver ran down her spine and warmth pulsed between her legs.  The same apprehension, coupled with a physical arousal she’d rather not admit to, overcame her each time she worried about Daman’s reaction to her waywardness.  He had instructed her to return home immediately after fetching the book, but she hadn’t obeyed him – for reasons that now seemed foolish.

Who was she kidding?  Once she opened the door, she would be in for it.  Deep.  Painfully deep.  Uncle Daman would summon her to his study and blister her poor bottom with that awful paddle of his.  Her hand hovered over the doorknob as she thought of all the times he’d punished her.  The first instance had been not long after she’d turned eighteen.  She’d always been on her best behavior before then, and he hadn’t laid a hand on her during the first four years she’d spent under his roof.  Sure, he’d threatened her with a spanking plenty of times, but she’d been too terrified to find out if he was serious that she never disobeyed his totalitarian rules until she’d come of age.  In the Old Days, a person was an adult once they turned eighteen.  She’d assumed Daman wouldn’t possibly bend her over his desk once she was that old.  But she’d assumed wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Shana entered the house.  Her stomach flipped when the wonderful aroma of vegetable stew greeted her.  Not only was Daman aware of her tardiness, but he’d gone ahead and started dinner.

Not good.

Guilt and fear mingled in her chest, and her legs felt heavy as she made the dreaded walk to the kitchen.  Just before she rounded the corner to the doorway, she straightened her dress and smoothed her hands through her long blond hair.

“I can hear you, Shana.  Stop lingering in the hallway and come have dinner.”  His clipped tone drove a knife through her heart.  She hated herself at moments like this.  Daman was a good man and kept a roof over her head in one of the safest settlements around.  She was ashamed to have broken his rules, yet again.

She entered the kitchen and almost turned to run away.  His face was like a thundercloud, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest.  “Come here,” he growled.

She approached on shaky legs and held the book out like a peace offering, thinking of Winston and his terrible fear of rats.  What was her greatest fear?  Not death.  There were a thousand things worse than death.  Puzzled by this sudden thought, she watched Daman place the book on the counter, never once taking his eyes off her.  The silence stretched between them as she stood submissively in front of him, her head lowered and feeling quite humbled – and he hadn’t even punished her yet.  Daman closed the space between them and lifted her chin with one finger.  Shana stared up into those forbidding dark eyes, her insides melting and fluttering at the same time.

“Explain to me, Shana, why it took two hours to fetch a book from the library.  What was important enough to keep you from your duties here?”

Briefly, she told him about how she’d stopped to hear Mary Miller’s stories about the Old Days, stories she’d heard plenty of times before, though he didn’t need to know that.  “I didn’t mean to stay so long, but before I knew it the sun was setting.  I’m sorry.  I feel terrible.”

“Not as terrible as you’ll feel after I take my belt to you, young lady.”

Shana swallowed hard as her heart hammered in chest.  Before she could reply, he spun her around and applied one heavy whack to her bottom.

“Go sit down,” he barked.

Dinner was a silent, painful affair.  Shana ate slowly and was so preoccupied by the conflicting feelings Daman stirred within her that the stew seemed tasteless.  Her nipples stiffened and she fought the urge to touch them to ease the growing ache.  She stole a glance at her uncle.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out why women ogled him every time he walked down the street.  He was gorgeous – for a man.  His hair and eyes were as dark as the night, and she often wished she could trail her fingers along his strong square jaw, especially in the evening when he sported a rugged shadow.  He was one of the tallest men she’d ever met, and if she were to kiss him, she’d be forced to stand on her toes.  What a thought.

Daman dabbed his face with a napkin and pushed back from the table.  “Clean up the kitchen, Shana, and then get ready for bed.  I expect to find you in your room, soon.”

He left Shana to her own thoughts, and a dirty kitchen.  It struck her as unusual that he’d ordered her to bed.  Did he plan to punish her in her room?  He’d never done that before, instead preferring to bend her over the desk in his study to administer a spanking.  She fetched fresh water from the spring that ran through the cellar and placed it on the woodstove to heat.  She used it with a dash of soap to scrub the dishes and counters clean.  Once everything was put away, she readied herself for bed and crawled under the covers to wait.

She chose her longest cotton nightgown, but with a sinking heart realized Daman would flip it up and bare her bottom anyway.  No matter how much she begged, he always did.  The worst part was that he got a good view of the area between her legs each time, but ignored that particular part of her anatomy as if it didn’t exist.  She couldn’t count the times he’d run his hand over her bottom during a punishment and she’d found herself aching to be touched there.

Shana sighed.  Most of her friends were married now, and at twenty-three she was the oldest eligible woman left in the settlement – and probably the oldest virgin too.  But even though she’d never been with a man, Shana knew what went on between husbands and wives.  She’d heard plenty of friendly banter about sex between her married friends.  So while she understood what it was she craved from Daman, she dared not reveal her secret to him or anyone else.

The topic of marriage had never come up with her uncle.  Why hadn’t he arranged a union for her yet, and why did he refuse all matches proposed by other families?  Too nervous to broach the subject, she dreaded the day he announced a match for her.  As her guardian, it was his responsibility to see her married one day.  Oh, but she hated the thought.  The day she left Daman’s home would be the day her heart broke to pieces.

Leave the rats for Winston.  Being separated from her uncle was her greatest fear.  Experiencing another man’s intimate touch was her greatest fear.   Her twenty-fourth birthday loomed five months ahead like a death sentence.  It was doubtful she’d remain under Daman’s roof much longer, not when most girls her age were married with two or three children already.

The creaking of floorboards brought her back to reality.  She sat up in bed, staring silently at her uncle.  He held his belt in one hand, and one glance at the terrible implement left her shuddering.  The bed dipped as he sank down beside her.  Her heart flooded with warmth when his expression softened.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to wake up to that handsome face every morning for the rest of her life.

* * *

“I don’t want to hurt you, Shana, but you disobeyed me and caused me to worry.  I know the settlement is safe, but if you’re told to return home, I expect you to follow my directions.”  Daman watched lines of distress appear on her pretty face as she met his gaze.  Even in her moments of apprehension, she was the loveliest creature he’d ever set eyes on.

He sighed when she didn’t respond.  Of all the days for her to earn a punishment.  He cursed inwardly at the bad timing.  Sending Shana to fetch a book at the library had only been a ruse to get her out the house for a few minutes.  Daman had planned to cook dinner anyway, as a surprise and as a means to soften her for an important topic he planned to broach this evening.  By sending her to her bedroom instead of his study, he hoped she wouldn’t be as frightened, but he now second-guessed that decision.  This was intimate and dangerous on a level his niece probably didn’t realize.

Or maybe she did.  She might be young and inexperienced, but she wasn’t naive.

He trailed his fingers under chin.  “Let’s get this over with, shall we?  There’s something important I must discuss with you tonight.”

A flicker of doubt crossed her features as he guided her onto her stomach.  He hesitated before baring her bottom, but decided not to go soft.  The world was a dangerous place, especially beyond the barriers of the settlement.  Shana’s waywardness would get her into serious trouble one day if his expectations and punishments lacked consistency.  He had to remain firm.

Which was exactly why he planned to marry her.

True, she was his niece, but not by blood.  He’d already obtained permission from the priest and he doubted anyone would raise an eyebrow over his decision.  Okay, maybe an eyebrow or two.  Not that he cared.  He’d be damned if he’d let some young buck take her away, possibly to another settlement.  No.  She belonged to him.

Shana buried her face in the pillow and fisted her hands in the sheets after the first smack.  Daman warmed her up with his hand, placing ten firm slaps on each cheek before reaching for the belt, knowing it carried more bite than the paddle.  Her hands flew back and he captured her wrists in his left hand.

“You know better.”

The dark pink flesh of her bottom turned an angry shade of red as he lowered the belt repeatedly, giving her twenty blows in all.

After moving her nightgown down, Daman gathered her in his arms.  She never cried, no matter how harsh the punishment, but he still felt compelled to comfort her each and every time.  When she’d first come to live with him, she’d been inconsolable and had cried herself to sleep for a month.  Nothing he did or said could soothe her, and it had been a relief to see her tears dry up one day.  That was six years ago, and her emotional detachment in certain circumstances scared him now and then.

She smiled plenty, and her frequent laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world.  But when a situation became tense, she erected a sturdy wall around her heart.  She allowed herself to feel joy, but never despair – at least openly.  No tears, ever.  He knew the spankings hurt, that physical pain was a deterrent, and her remorse was always evident.  Sometimes he’d catch a glimmer of moisture in her eyes, particularly if he was scolding her, but she’d blink it back immediately, causing him to question whether or not it was there in the first place.

He continued to hold her, rubbing his hand down her back while listening to her deep breaths.  Her hair smelled of the lilac shampoo he’d brought her after a trading mission to Marshall Settlement.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Daman,” she said.  The regret in her voice was obvious, and it pleased him that she’d learned her lesson.  If something bad were to happen to her . . .

It was a thought he couldn’t complete.

He drew back and kissed her forehead.  “You’re forgiven, my dear.”

Slowly, Shana drew away from him and seated herself in front of her pillow.  With her long white nightgown and wavy blond locks framing her angelic face, he couldn’t help but stare.  She hugged her legs to her chest and gazed questioningly at him.  “What did you need to talk to me about?”

A stab of worry and doubt left his mouth dry.  He cleared his throat and said a silent prayer that she would accept his decision.  “You’re twenty-three years old now, Shana.  It’s time you took a husband.  That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

The bed quaked as she adamantly shook her head in protest, her hair flipping violently about her face.  “No, please, not yet.  I don’t want to.  Can’t I wait another year or two?”  Panic laced her every word, and her wide blue eyes pleaded with him.

Daman regarded her strangely.  “Most of the friends you’ve made here are already married, many of them with children by now.  I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Are you sending me away because I’m bad?  I promise I’ll listen better.  I’ll do more around the house.  I’ll do whatever you want – just please don’t make me get married.”  Her chest heaved and she blinked rapidly.

She was almost crying.

He moved closer and gathered her small, delicate hands firmly in his.  A slight smile curled his lips up, and her reluctance to leave his house – for whatever reason – gave him the confidence he desperately needed to continue the conversation.

“I’m not sending you away.”  He hesitated and waited for her to meet his gaze for a long, tense moment.  “I intend to take you as my wife, Shana – if you’ll have me.”

Her mouth dropped open and she inhaled quickly.  “You want to marry me?”

Daman grinned and suppressed a chuckle.  He couldn’t help but find her surprise amusing.  Of course she didn’t understand the depth and complexity of his love for her.  He’d never spoken those feelings aloud.  But was she so blind that she didn’t at least suspect it?  He could’ve set up a match for her years ago, but he hadn’t.  Nor did he do so much as glance at another woman since she’d come into his home.

He squeezed her hands.  “Yes, I want to marry you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I won’t force you, Shana.  Think on it.”  He leaned forward and kissed her forehead again.  “Sleep well.”

Daman found his own bed, but tossed and turned for most of the night.  A brief instant of solace warmed him as he recalled Shana’s fear.  She’d seemed not only opposed to marriage in general, but afraid to leave his home.  Her reaction puzzled him as much as it gave him hope.  He closed his eyes and drifted into a restless slumber, wishing he were a goddamn mind reader.

* * *

Shana was beyond stunned.  Daman wanted to marry her.  Talk about a dream come true.  She planned to tell him yes first thing in the morning.  She would’ve accepted his proposal the moment he’d asked – if only her senses hadn’t abandoned her.  I don’t know what to say.  Ugh.  What a silly response.

She imagined what it would be like to share his bed, and a shock of scorching heat blasted straight to her pussy.  If the priest had already approved their marriage, they could become husband and wife any day they chose.  She closed her legs tight together and tried to think of something else.

The spanking.  Would he still see fit to chastise her after they got married?  She wasn’t sure whether she liked the idea or not.  Part of her had come to love the punishments as much as she hated them.  The growing ache between her thighs confused her to no end.  Even though it was as great a sin as premarital sex – according the church – Shana sometimes couldn’t help but touch herself in the privacy of her room after being spanked by Daman.

Her heart beat faster and she squirmed in the covers, feverish and uncomfortable.  She rolled on her side and reached up her nightgown, beneath her underclothes to feel her tender bottom.  Trying to rub the soreness away only increased her arousal.  She glanced at the curtain that separated her room from the hallway and listened.  Nothing.  It was late.  Daman would be asleep.  No one would ever know.

After returning to her back, Shana pulled the covers up and slid her fingers into the silky folds between her legs.  She gathered the moisture from her core and spread it over the little button that would bring the release she craved.  As her desire grew in waves of liquid warmth, she closed her eyes and flew into a spiral of sweet quaking pulses of pleasure.  Her hips lifted as she swirled her finger while replaying the recent spanking episode in her mind.  She thought of the belt snapping across her bottom, and the feel of Daman’s strong hand as he’d warmed her up first.  Her mind wandered to all the times he’d bent her over his desk, forcing her legs wider before paddling her cheeks bright red.

“What are you doing?”

Shana gasped and shot straight up, yanking the covers up to her neck.  The room was still illuminated by the undimmed lantern beside her bed, giving her a good view of the dark eyes glaring down at her.

Uncle Daman.

Humiliation and fear coursed through her and chased away her desire, yet somehow fueled it to burn hotter.  What would he do?  Worse yet – what did he think of her now?  He didn’t adopt many of the church’s more stringent teachings, but she wasn’t sure what his feelings would be in this situation.

“I asked you a question, Shana,” he said, drawing closer.  “What were you doing?”

She clutched the covers so tight her hands began to hurt.  She lowered her head.  “I – I don’t want to tell you.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes.  He knew very well what she’d been doing, and Shana cringed.  She wondered why he bothered asking the question in the first place.

His face darkened suddenly and he said, “Lie down on your back.  Now.”

She shook her head.  “No.  Please just let me go to sleep.”

“Unless you want me to turn you over my knee like the naughty girl you are, I suggest you listen.  Lie down.”

Shana obeyed, but kept the covers in a vise grip at her chest.  When Daman joined her on the bed and tugged at them, she sighed and let go after he raised a menacing eyebrow at her defiance.  He moved them down and she shivered, but not from the cold.  Their eyes locked and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so terrified or excited.

“Be a good girl and stay very still.”

It took all of Shana’s willpower to remain motionless as Daman reached a hand between her legs, delving underneath her nightgown.  He slipped his fingers down the front of her underclothes and groaned.  “Oh, Shana, baby,” he said, his voice thick and coarse.  “You’re very wet, and very naughty.”

“Just let me go to sleep,” she begged, trying to squirm away.

“No,” he said firmly.  “Now let’s get rid of these.”  He slid her underclothes off, tossing them on the floor.

The gleam in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.  He was looking at her as if he intended to devour her alive.  And she was bared to his gaze now that her underclothes were off and her nightgown gathered around her waist.

Boldly, he cupped a hand over the mound between her trembling legs.  “If you marry me, Shana, this will belong to me.  If I catch you pleasuring yourself, you will be punished.”

Chapter 2

Daman couldn’t believe he was in Shana’s bed, pressing his palm against her warm, wet folds.  She squirmed underneath his touch, her eyes wide with a fright that gave him a heady power he fought to temper.  He wanted to shove her on the mattress and impale her with one swift move, but she wasn’t his wife yet.

“Please,” Shana whispered.  “I’m sorry.  Just let me go to sleep.  I promise I won’t do it again.”

Daman shifted his hand and slipped two fingers between her folds, discovering further evidence of her arousal, so slick and hot to his touch.  She whimpered and tried to move away, but he would have none of that.  No, she wasn’t going anywhere.  He pressed his free arm against her waist, holding her in place as he continued the exploration below.  Musky but sweet, her scent threatened to drive him wild and past the point of reason.

“You were a naughty girl, Shana, touching yourself like this.  Do you pleasure yourself often?”  The image of her alone in bed, rubbing her hands between her legs in secret beneath the sheets was one he wouldn’t soon forget.

“Please don’t make me tell you.”  Her face flushed and she bit her bottom lip.

He smiled darkly and continued his ministrations, moving his thumb and forefinger to pinch her swollen clit.  It was big and red, and he wondered how close to completion she’d been when he’d interrupted.  She squealed and writhed against him, all the while trying to escape.  A thought suddenly clicked in place as he remembered all the times he’d punished her over his desk.  Sometimes he would swear her pussy was wet, but he’d never taken liberties with her body before, so he hadn’t been able to confirm his suspicions.

Until now.

“Do you often touch yourself after I punish you, Shana?”

The shock in her widened eyes betrayed the beautiful truth.  His punishments turned her on, enough to prompt her to masturbate afterwards.  He groaned inwardly at all the lost opportunities.  She hadn’t acted out or disobeyed him enough to warrant a spanking until after she’d turned eighteen.  Years had passed since then, years he could’ve had her beneath him in the throes of passion.

He could be fucking her at this very moment.  She could already be his wife.

“Please, Uncle Daman.  I just want to go to sleep.”  Her embarrassment obvious, she turned her head and shut her eyes, as if this simple act could turn her invisible.

“I don’t think so, Shana.”  A wicked, absolutely devilish idea entered his mind.  She could have her orgasm, but dammit he wanted to watch.  “Show me how you pleasure yourself.  I want to watch you make yourself come.”

She shook her head profusely.  “No!  I couldn’t possibly.”

He gave her a warning look.  “Young lady, if you don’t do as I ask, I will punish you again.”  And it’ll be more embarrassing than a little spanking, he thought.

Continuing to refuse his request, Shana pushed against him with her hands.  Her struggles didn’t faze Daman, and he pinched her clit harder, loving the new flush that stained her cheeks as he did so.  She bucked her hips and managed to get one leg free, and she kicked him hard in the stomach.  Shocked and in pain, Daman withdrew his fingers and stood up.  She would regret that kick.  She would regret not obeying his request to touch herself.

“You just earned yourself a session with the thermometer.”  He spun on his heel and retrieved the items he needed from the medicine cabinet, trusting she’d remain in her room.

He’d never used the rectal thermometer to punish Shana before, but knew from prior experience during an illness that she shied away from having her temperature taken in this intimate manner.  In most cases, he’d have to threaten her with a paddling just to get her to accept it.  His cock twitched and hardened painfully against his pants at the thought of moistening her bottom hole with the clear ointment, spreading it around and slipping a finger inside in preparation of the thermometer’s entrance.  When he returned, Shana was frozen in place, clutching the covers up to her neck.

“Please.  I’m sorry.  I’ll go to confession.”  Her pleading eyes widened further and her hands shook.

Confession.  What a thought.  If either of them needed to go to confession, it was Daman.  Technically, Shana was still his charge.  She wasn’t his wife – yet.  The selfish, possessive side of him never wanted to release her from under his care, even if she refused to marry him.  The mere thought of another man touching her caused his blood to boil scalding hot and his heart to drum loudly in his ears.

“You’re being disobedient, Shana.  You know what happens to disobedient girls under my roof.  Now, turn over on your stomach or I’ll take my belt to your thighs.”  She hated being spanked on the thighs, and sure enough this threat did the trick.  A few seconds later, Shana was lying on her stomach, trembling under the white bed sheets.  “Good girl,” he said, always as quick to offer praise as chastisement.

Daman sank onto the edge of the bed beside the naughty young lady, his senses thrumming with delight.  He peeled down the covers and shifted her nightgown up to her waist.  Repressing a groan as he took in the curves of her luscious bare ass, he ran a hand over the red belt lines marring her flesh.  He hadn’t been too hard on her, but knew she would have trouble sitting down tomorrow, possibly the next day as well.  After placing the thermometer and ointment aside, he continued to rub her bottom cheeks while she remained silent, apart from her heaving breathing.

“Now, tell Uncle Daman what happens to bad little girls who don’t listen to instructions?”  His hand traveled down to her thigh and squeezed hard.

“They get punished,” she answered.

“That’s right.  Bad little girls who don’t listen get punished.  Why are you about to be punished, Shana?”  His roaming hand probed her dripping wet pussy lips and he spread her moisture around, knowing this damning evidence of arousal humiliated her immensely.  When she took too long to answer, he smacked her bottom soundly.

“Ah!  Okay, okay.  Because I wouldn’t show you how I pleasure myself.”

“Correct.  I already spanked you once this evening, Shana, and I would hate to have to repeat that punishment, so I have something else in mind.  Instead I’m going to punish that pretty little hole of yours until I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.  No doubt she realized there was no escape.  And there wasn’t.  Daman was a large man and could easily overpower her if she resisted, and resisting would only earn her a harsher punishment.  With both hands, he drew her bottom cheeks apart, spreading her wide to his gaze.  She whimpered and tensed up, and her little hole instinctively clenched, as if sensing an imminent intrusion.  Keeping her rear end splayed open with one hand, he flipped the lid off the ointment and scooped up a dollop of cream on one finger.  He pressed it against her tight, puckering hole, smoothing it around and eventually pushing his finger at the entrance.  He watched her clench and unclench as he nudged against her there, teasing her most private area with the promise of unforgiving penetration.

She hissed when his finger slipped forward and he pushed knuckle deep.  God, she was tight, so unbelievably tight.  When she was his wife, he planned to fuck her ass good and hard sometimes in lieu of, or in accompaniment of, a spanking.

He would have no less than her total submission.

“It hurts,” she complained, hiding her face and her shame in the covers.

“It doesn’t hurt, Shana.  It’s uncomfortable and no doubt humiliating.  There’s a big difference.”  He withdrew his finger partially and then pushed forward again, and repeated the process over and over, building a rhythm inside her tightness with his lubricated digit.  “So naughty, Shana,” he scolded.  “Pleasuring yourself is against the rules, don’t you know that?”

“Yes, sir.  I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath coming in gasps.

“And then you refused to demonstrate how you pleasure yourself, disobeying me and kicking me in the stomach.  You’re a very bad girl and you deserve this, don’t you?”  He pushed deeper, past his large knuckle.

To Daman’s shock, she replied, “Yes, I deserve this.”

His heart swelled with pride to hear her admit it, and he knew he was getting through to her.  “It’s time for the thermometer,” he announced, retracting his hand and appreciating the sight of her little hole pulsing as he pulled out.  He reached for the thermometer and spread her ass cheeks wide, placing the tip at her entrance.  He inserted it, driving it slightly deeper than necessary.  “You’re to remain in this position until I say otherwise.”

* * *

How humiliating.

Shana wished she’d obeyed Uncle Daman’s request earlier and pleasured herself while he watched.  At this point, her pussy throbbed horribly and she wasn’t certain how she would survive the night without reaching an orgasm.  Her breasts ached underneath her and she couldn’t stop thinking of the way Daman had finger fucked her asshole.  He’d touched her there a few times in the past when circumstances required he take her temperature, but he’d never punished her bottom hole the way he’d just done – the way he continued to do with the thermometer poking up between her bare cheeks.  It seemed like hours had passed, though she doubted it had been that long.  What would her uncle do after he removed the thermometer?  Would he tuck her in and kiss her goodnight on the forehead like he always did?  Or would the evening take a more intimate turn?

He wanted to marry her!  Despite how stern Daman was, she loved him with her whole heart and hoped she could be a good wife.  Even if the punishments continued – and a little piece of her hoped they would – the idea of spending the rest of her life at his side sent jolts of happiness through her heart.

Current circumstances notwithstanding, she was the luckiest girl on the planet.  Most of her friends had no say whatsoever in whom they married, and many had been matched with men outside the settlement.  She resolved to give Daman her answer as soon as she thought she had permission to speak.  He hadn’t specifically ordered her silence, but she figured this was no different than being made to stand in a corner, quiet and with her skirts raised until he said otherwise.

The memory of his hands brushing over her thighs and bottom, the snap of his belt, the cool ointment he’d pumped in and out of her ass, and the way he scolded left her breathless with desire.  She felt her clit pulsing and knew Uncle Daman had probably smelled her arousal.  Her face heated as she imagined his tongue on this private place, lapping at her sensitive bud until she reached a thunderous climax.  Her married friends liked to talk – and Shana loved to listen so later she could imagine Daman doing the wicked things they described to her.

She risked a glance in his direction and saw him seated on a chair against the wall, reading a heavy book about the history of The Fall she’d left on her bedside table.  He was engrossed, and she wondered if he’d ever had a conversation with old Mary Miller.  How different life was back before the war and the plagues.  Women had owned houses, businesses, and been free to marry whomever they chose.  Technically Shana was Daman’s property.  All her privileges and everything she received came from him, and she was okay with that.  She doubted any other man could ever make her feel so loved and protected.

A warm hand on her bottom startled her, causing her to jump in place.

“Relax, my sweet.  I’m going to take it out now.”  With that, Daman removed the slim object.

It slid out easily, and she was grateful to finally have nothing inside this private place.  Although her pussy creamed more at the memory of his fingers thrusting in and out of her little hole.

“Did you learn your lesson?” he asked, rubbing circles over the punished flesh of her backside.  The man could sure swing a mean stroke with a belt.

“Yes, sir.  I learned my lesson.”  She turned over with his help and rearranged her nightgown to conceal her nudity.  When she met his intense gaze, her stomach performed an elaborate summersault, leaping up to lodge in her throat and rendering her speechless.

He brushed a few errant strands of hair behind her ears and smiled kindly.  He was always kind after a punishment, and she loved him for it.  She didn’t lack for hugs, kisses, or tender words of comfort when she craved them most.  Sometimes it seemed like their minds were connected, because even though she never asked for his affection, he instinctively knew when she desired it.

“Come here,” he said, as if on cue.  She leaned into his loving embrace, his solid body, inhaling the familiar spicy masculine scent she couldn’t get enough of.  He stroked one hand over the back of her head and held her tightly for what seemed like forever.  Her ragged breaths calmed and she suddenly felt at peace with the world, aside from her sore backside and the terrible ache between her thighs.  It would be a miracle if she made it through the night without touching herself to relieve the misery and put out the flames burning her up from the inside out.

“Uncle?” she asked hesitantly, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“Yes, my dear?”

“I came to a decision about the question you asked me earlier, about marriage.”

His expression cooled and he stiffened, more apprehensive than she’d ever seen before.  It raised her spirits to know her decision caused him this much worry.  He sincerely wanted her as a wife.  This is why he’d kept her for all these years, refusing match after match that was proposed by another man’s parents.  He’d tried to keep each proposal a secret, but Shana picked up gossip from her friends, and the whole settlement knew of Daman’s possessiveness for his niece.  It dawned on her that she’d have to stop calling him Uncle.

“And?” he asked, his eyes growing more intense by the second.

“And I very much want to be your wife.”  She smiled.

“Oh, Shana.”  He gathered her closer.  Cupping her face between his large hands, he leaned down to capture her lips in a demanding kiss, exploring and tasting all that belonged to him.  “Tomorrow.  We’ll go to the priest tomorrow,” he said, pausing from the kiss only long enough to speak.

Tomorrow.  Shana melted into the man she cared about more than anything else in life.  Even when her parents had been alive, she couldn’t remember loving them this much.  Of course, she supposed it was a different kind of love.  The kind that could kindle the fiery passion coursing through her veins and reignite the desperate throbbing of her pussy.  Without thinking, she scooted closer and grinded her center against his side as he continued to brand her with his mouth.

“Does my wife-to-be want something?” he teased, cupping her breasts through her nightgown.  She arched into his touch, reveling in the feel of his hands on her aching mounds.  The idea of writhing in the midst of an orgasm while Daman watched – and hopefully, assisted – drove her mad with longing.  She unabashedly grinded against him once more, meeting his stare with hooded eyes.

“Please,” she pleaded.  “I’m going to explode if you don’t touch my pussy.”

* * *

Daman briefly wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven.  Maybe a tornado had ripped through the settlement during the night and caught him unawares.  After all, having his sweet Shana beg him to touch her pussy was high on his list of sexual fantasies not likely to happen.  Or maybe he was dreaming.  No matter.  If it was a dream, he’d enjoy himself in the meantime and then wake up and go make it a reality.

“Take your nightgown off.”  He caressed her thigh.

A shy look crossed her face, but she soon yanked the garment off and flung it to the floor.  His eyes swept over her firm bare breasts and he almost spilled himself in his pants.  God, what a perfect sight.  Her dark nipples were hardened, begging to be pinched and sucked.  If only it was their wedding night, he’d be able to sink his cock deep between her wet folds.  Premarital sex was just another ridiculous so-called sin the church riled against, in his opinion, but he didn’t want to risk the chance that Shana would despair over it.  He’d bring her the pleasure she craved and somehow manage to keep his cock encased in his pants for a few more hours.  They would visit the priest in the early morning and he’d have her as his wife-in-truth before noon tomorrow.

“Touch yourself,” he said, nodding at her breasts.

Slowly, her hands traveled up her stomach and she kneaded her tits, cupping and squeezing herself as her eyes closed tight and her head tilted back, revealing her neck in a vulnerable manner that nearly caused Daman to come undone at the seams.  When she rolled her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, it was all he could do to keep from drooling.  Her hips gyrated in his direction, aiming for his leg.  She was an intoxicating bouquet of lilac and womanly arousal.  He couldn’t wait to bury his face between her legs, run his tongue along the outer rim of her intimate folds, and lap at her clit until she shuddered against his mouth.

A little moan escaped her lips, drawing Daman back to the task at hand.  “Lay down, Shana, baby.  I’m going to make you feel good.”  His voice was strained.

He guided her down with her legs spread wide, her knees bent.  Her eyes flickered nervously in his direction, and her cheeks looked heated.  The embarrassment he imagined racing through her delicate senses thrilled Daman beyond words.  Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.  What fun he’d have breaking his little wife in, introducing her to the most wicked pleasures he hadn’t acted out in years – not since he’d visited the brothels in Davidson Settlement, where the morals ran much looser.

The first taste of her pussy was exquisite.  Aw, fuck, he was the luckiest man alive.  He didn’t regret keeping her to himself for a second.  His tongue ran down the inside of the wet lips between her legs, up and down, inching toward the engorged red button he glimpsed when he splayed her wide with his fingers.  She started and shrieked as he began to lap at her clit.

“I want you to orgasm against my mouth,” he said, pulling back.  “This will be one of my favorite things to do to you when we’re married.”  If she knew about all of his favorite things she’d have to contend with, she might not have accepted his marriage proposal.  He smirked at that thought and positioned his mouth lower to pleasure Shana.  She accepted him more readily this time, but she still jumped a little.

He continued, pushing the hood of her clit back and licking it in its most defenseless state, watching her whole center pulse and quiver as she tried to remain still.  He trailed one moistened finger to her freshly punished asshole and pushed against her, sliding straight in past his knuckle.  At the same time, he circled his tongue rapidly around her hardened nub and started sucking on it as she moaned loud and quaked against his mouth.

“Daman!”  She writhed until her legs suddenly went limp, and he knew her wave of release had run its course.

Without a word, he retrieved her undergarments and nightgown from the floor and dressed her.  She seemed dazed, her mind adrift at sea, and he couldn’t help feeling proud he’d put her in such a state, especially with a finger penetrating her bottom hole as she came hard.  She would learn to accept larger intrusions than a finger, whether she liked the idea at first or not.  His cock throbbed in agony as he tucked her in bed, and he cursed the stupid church for putting images of fire and brimstone into every innocent girl’s head in this safe but rigid settlement.

“Sleep well, Shana.”  He kissed her forehead.  “In the morning we will be married.”

Chapter 3

The flowing light blue dress trimmed in lace would have to do.  Shana owned many nice dresses, but choosing the best one out of them all was an impossible task.  At the end of the month she would don her mother’s wedding party gown, along with the rest of the Jackson Settlement women who got married this month, for a big celebration in the square, but for now she needed something normal and pretty to wear to the courthouse.  Besides, the ceremony was quick and she knew Daman intended to consummate their marriage immediately.  How he’d managed not to take her whole body last night was past her understanding.  The man had more self-control than she could ever hope to possess.  It was one of the many reasons she looked up to him.  Even before she’d gotten to know him well, he’d been a beacon of strength and seemed larger than life.

She would never forget his kindness the night he brought her into his house.  He’d traveled to Okkman Settlement to fetch her without knowing a thing about her, save that she was his late wife’s sister’s daughter.  He’d bathed her, fed her, and tucked her in a warm bed after the long journey, and promised her grief would one day fade.  The pain of losing her parents and leaving her childhood friends behind did indeed fade, and she had him to thank for that.  He became her everything when she had nothing.  He became the sole candle burning in a world gone dark.  And when the worst of the darkness lifted, she saw Daman as her personal savior and her feelings for him grew as the months and years passed.  Gratitude turned to devotion, devotion turned to love, and love turned into something so strong it couldn’t be put to words, an emotion so profound it transcended love.

“Shana?”  Daman’s deep voice echoed through her chest, and her heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”  She finished buttoning the dress, twirled once in front of the mirror, and leaned in to apply the faintest hint of makeup.  A little blush and a smear of pink lipstick, nothing more.  She ran her fingers through her long blond locks, thanking the heavens above for a good hair day.  She’d used curlers on the ends, and the slight wave this produced framed her face perfectly and made her feel pretty.

“Shana, it’s been five minutes.  If I have to take you to the chapel with a sore bottom, I will.  Don’t make me come in there.”  There was a smile in his voice, but she knew he’d follow through with this threat if she forced his hand.  Literally.

She stifled a giggle.  Her bottom still bore a few marks from his belt and would likely be sore for days.  Rather than point this fact out to him, she pushed aside the curtain and stood before him in the hallway.  She gasped when she saw how handsome he looked in a pair of simple black trousers, a matching black jacket, and a red shirt underneath.

“I’m ready now.”  She smiled mischievously, and his mock-stern visage melted as his eyes swept over her body.

“You know you were naughty to keep me waiting so long.”  He reached for her hands.  “But you look lovely, Shana.”

She swallowed hard and fought the emotion rising in her chest.  She’d almost burst into tears last night when she’d thought he meant to marry her to another man, and now she sensed the dam holding in her feelings cracking once more.  Blinking like a madwoman, she lowered her head and stared at their joined hands.

“Thank you, Unc – uh, I mean Daman.”  This name change would take some getting used to.

“I was only married to your aunt for a month, and I’m glad for it even though she died soon after.  If I hadn’t married her, then I would’ve never met you.  If anyone in the settlement gives you grief over our union, I want you to tell me at once.  It’s my job to protect you.”

She stared up at him in wonder, trying to form words past the dryness in her mouth.  Her tongue felt heavy and awkward.  “I understand.”

He trailed a finger down her cheek.  “You will sleep in my bed, and you will call me Daman.  No more Uncle Daman.”

He led her outside, down the creaky porch steps, and toward the church near the square.  Butterflies assaulted the pit of her stomach as they approached the wide, red door of the chapel, and she was grateful she’d eaten a light breakfast.

Pastor Quentin greeted them with a warm smile and ushered them inside.  He cradled a large book, pushed his glasses up, and said, “Let’s begin.  I have a baptism to get to in an hour.”  He winked and began reading the vows for Daman and Shana to repeat.  A short time later, they were declared husband and wife.  “You may kiss the bride,” the priest said, pushing up his glasses again.

Shana turned, peering up at Daman from under her eyelashes.  His gaze penetrated her, stripped her soul bare, and left her legs shaky and her heart thrumming frantically.  She remembered how he kissed her forehead each night before tucking her in and how loved that gesture made her feel.  This was different.  It would make her burn worse than she already did for Daman, just as it made her burn last night before he buried his head between her legs.

He finally stepped closer and tilted her chin up.  She forgot about the priest. She forgot about the church.  It was as if they were all alone, and the fallen world no longer existed.  He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers.  His hold on her head tightened and his tongue glided inside her mouth, calling up her full desire and prompting her to lean into his hard body in search of relief that wouldn’t come until they reached home.  Reality floated further away as she ran her hands up his back, and the kiss deepened to leave her breathless, yet hungering for more.  A fierce ache spread from her lower belly and cascaded down sharply between her legs where it rolled around like butter in a churn.  She felt his cock pressing against her, hard and ready through their clothes.  In a matter of minutes, it would probably be buried inside her pussy.

Air flew into her lungs when Daman broke away and regarded her with longing in his dark, beautiful eyes.  Panting, she stepped back and tried to compose herself, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her dress.  The priest cleared his throat and said something, but his words sounded far away and she didn’t know what he said.  Suddenly, Daman pulled her down the aisle and into the crisp fall morning.  Her legs felt funny, and her thoughts fuzzy.  If they passed anyone on the street, she couldn’t say.  It was all a strange blur, and her mind didn’t clear until she heard the creaky porch steps beneath their feet.

Home.  This would always be her home, and she didn’t have to worry about leaving Daman ever again.

“You’re all mine now.”  He swept her up into his arms without warning to carry her inside.  “Mine.”

Yes, I’m yours, she thought, always yours.  Shana nestled her head against his solid chest, lost in a moment of bliss.

If this wasn’t happiness, she didn’t know what was.  Her body swayed with his footsteps, and soon they were in his bedroom.  He laid her down with great care, catching her eyes in his hot gaze and not blinking as he leaned over her body.  Burning a trail down her neckline, his fingers traced her skin, rubbing from behind her ears to the hollow of her neck and back again.  She raised her hips to press against him, and he began unfastening the buttons of her dress, one by one.  When he took his good time, she brushed his hands away and started working them herself.  His eyes flashed and he grabbed one of her wrists and slapped her hand soundly.

“Ouch!”  Shana cradled her wounded hand and gave him a hurt look.

“Push my hands away again and I’ll be smacking more than your hand,” he said, his brow creased as he glared down at her menacingly.

His threat caused her insides to quiver and she nodded in understanding.  She should’ve known better.  Daman was in charge and she liked it that way.  She just wished he’d hurry things up.  Aching like she’d never ached before, she dropped her arms and remained still, even though every cell in her body screamed out in protest.  “I’m sorry, Uncle.  Uh – Daman.  I’m sorry, Daman.”  Dammit.  Would her slip of tongue ruin the moment?

A dark smile crept across his lips.  “My naughty little wife can’t seem to remember her husband’s name.  Perhaps she needs a reminder?  Hmm?”

A reminder?  Before she could ask, he flipped her over on her stomach and raised her dress to gather above her waist.  He pulled her underclothes up to crease between her bottom cheeks.  The unexpected pressure on her clit caused her to squirm and press her thighs tight together.  She would burn up if he didn’t touch her soon.  His fingers, his tongue, or his cock.  She didn’t care what he used as long as he did it before she lost control and touched herself – a sin she knew would only earn her a harsh physical punishment.

Daman ran a hand over her bottom mounds, caressing and squeezing.  Of course, maybe he was about to punish her for the slip of tongue anyway.  A spasm of liquid heat rocketed through her center, and she grinned into the pillow.  If he wanted a reason to punish her, she’d give him one.

“Please, Uncle, don’t spank me.  I promise I’ll be good.  Uncle.”

His breath hissed between his teeth, the way it always did when something shocked him.  She smiled again and braced herself for what was surely to come.  He squeezed both of her cheeks between his hands, hard enough that his nails dug into her skin.  She fought the urge to cry out in pain.

“My little niece still has marks from my belt, but apparently she didn’t learn her lesson yesterday.”

Realizing that he wanted to play too, she wiggled her butt and grimaced as he squeezed harder.  “Ouch!  Uncle, you’re hurting me.  I promise I’ll be a good girl.  Please, please don’t punish me, Uncle.”

* * *

Still shocked by the naughty game Shana was instigating, Daman dug his nails into her skin and situated his body over her legs.  Hearing the word Uncle fall from her lips in their marriage bed drove him mad with need, surprising and thrilling him at the same time.  He raised his hand and brought it down severely on her left cheek, then gave the right one the same treatment.  He gave her over a dozen quick slaps in all before pausing to rub her reddening flesh, knowing the wetness between her thighs would grow and grow as he chastised her.

“Is my little niece going to behave?  Or does Uncle Daman need to get the paddle?”  He spanked each thigh once.

“Oh!  I’ll be good!  I promise!  Please don’t punish me anymore, Uncle.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

Damn right you will, he thought as he unzipped his trousers and freed his cock.  It jutted out as he stood up off the bed, guiding his wife down to her knees on the hardwood floor.  “Suck it.”  He fisted his hard length in his hand, slapping it against her face.

She studied his cock, her wide eyes betraying her fear of the unknown.  “I . . . um . . .”

“Open your mouth.”  His need was so great he required her mouth now, experienced or not.

Her pouty lips parted and he took the opportunity to push his cock forward between her lips, all the way to the back of her throat.  Hands gripping her hair, he prevented her from spitting him out.  He felt her gagging and steeled himself to be harsh.  His first wife had refused to pleasure him in this way, and for the month they were married he’d been too lenient on her.  The dynamic of his relationship with Shana would always be different, a relationship in which she was subject to his discipline and his every dark whim.

Soft whimpers vibrated from her throat as he began thrusting in and out of her warm, wet mouth.  After a few seconds, she relaxed and closed her lips firmly around his cock.  He’d never known pleasure so great.  He kept thrusting, filling her up without mercy as he used her mouth.  His balls tensed up and tingled, and the room tilted sideways, his vision blurring.  Close, too close.  Reluctantly, he yanked her head away and put space between them.  He didn’t want to shoot his seed down her throat – not this time.  He could smell her arousal, the same sweet, musky scent he’d smelled last night, and he couldn’t wait to rip through her maidenhead and fuck her senseless, breaking her in as his wife.

His wife.  His niece.  She was both and no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to separate the two.  He felt wicked, but he didn’t care.  Legally she belonged to him, and that was all that mattered.  His property.  His woman to love and protect, his bottom to spank, and his pussy to fuck.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.  Worry lines materialized on her face, and her sweet innocence took years off her appearance, her expression so childlike it reminded him of the scared fifteen year old girl she was when he’d first met her years ago.  So much had changed in those eight short years it seemed like a lifetime.  Her body had blossomed like a rare blue rose, and the lovely, inquisitive young woman she’d become erased all thoughts of every woman who’d looked his way.  His brief marriage to her aunt was the tiniest blip on the span of his vast experience in this fallen world.

“No, Shana, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you angry I called you Uncle?”  A deep pink color stained her cheeks as she peered up at him from her position on the floor.  Curls of gold wrapped around her shoulders and poured down her back like a silken cloak.

“Angry?  No.  Surprised?  Yes,” he answered truthfully.  “You’ve caused me to have a change of heart, Shana, and you know that doesn’t happen often.  You may call me Uncle in private if you wish, but never in the company of others.  I want to protect you from wagging tongues, and you calling me Uncle would only feed more fuel into the gossip mill.  Do keep in mind, however, that if you call me Uncle in public, I’ll give you the worst thrashing of your life.”

She gulped and nodded mutely.  A few unruly curls fell in front of her eyes, and Daman brushed them away and drew her up to her feet.  He resumed working her buttons.  This time she didn’t shove his hands away.  Her eagerness was hard to hide though, and when the dress finally dropped at her feet in a pool of blue fabric, her eyes burned and her breath quickened more with each passing second.  He helped her step out of her shoes and dress, throwing them aside.  Her undergarments came next.  His eyes zeroed in on her heaving chest, his tongue moving inside his mouth as he imagined sucking and biting the stiff rosy tips.

“I – I want to please you, Uncle.  Please, tell me what to do next.”  Her hands moved restlessly at her sides, as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

Daman ignored her question and began to undress himself, leaving his trousers for last.  She gasped when his cock sprang out again, nothing hidden by his clothing, and he saw fear and uncertainty in her lovely blue eyes.  When he stepped toward her, she drew back.  Shame swept across her features after he scowled, as if she suddenly realized her error.

“I thought you wanted to please me.”  He folded his arms across his chest, knowing very well his large, rock hard cock was the cause of her concern.  She knew the first time would hurt, and he wasn’t about to lie about the pain she would experience.

“I do, it’s just . . . I’m a little frightened,” she admitted.  Her eyes danced around the bedroom and settled on the curtain leading to the hallway.  “Maybe we should have lunch first.  I didn’t finish all my chores this morning either.”  She looked at him hopefully.

“I’m hungry,” he said, “but not for lunch.”  Daman took another step forward, only for her to retreat again.  He sighed.  He was normally a patient man, but he’d waited far too long to have Shana in his bed.

He leapt forward and grasped her upper arms, his patience flying out the window.  Perhaps once her first time was over and done with, she wouldn’t be so apprehensive.  He knew she sincerely wanted to please him as she’d just claimed, but he also understood her fear outweighed her desire at this moment.  Taking her quickly, even if she begged him to stop, would be an act of mercy in the end.

“Please.”  She dug her heels into the floor.  Frantically, she tried to escape, her head turning toward the exit as she struggled against his firm hold.  Her efforts proved useless against Daman’s superior strength.

Throwing her on the bed, he wasted no time covering her with his body, settling his whole weight upon her.  The terror in her eyes twisted his stomach, but he shook the regret away and captured her wrists in one hand, holding her arms above her head.  She stilled and turned away, panting and tensing up her legs as if keeping them pressed together would save her from his impending intrusion.

“Look at me, Shana.”

Slowly, she turned her head and met his gaze.  She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out and she soon closed it.  A shudder racked her body.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs.”  He waited until she obeyed, and thrust forward into her pussy the moment he had enough room, but only partway.  Her virginal membrane blocked his full entry, and the tightness of her pussy up to this point clamped down exquisitely around his cock.  “This is going to hurt, my sweet, but only for a moment.”  With that, he drove his hard shaft forward, all the way inside until he could push no more.  She screamed as he ripped through her resistance, and her whole body trembled as he remained buried completely inside her walls, unmoving to allow her time for adapting to his size.

“Is it over?” she asked through rapid breaths.

He smiled to alleviate her fears.  “The pain is over,” he said.  “Now is the time for pleasure.  Lift your legs wider.  A little more.  Yes, perfect.”

The atmosphere in the room transformed as he began to move gently inside her.  The tension caused by Shana’s anxiety and Daman’s impatience evaporated.  He inched his cock out of her tight little pussy and then pushed it slowly back inside her entrance.  Her sweet sigh encouraged him to move faster, and he soon built a steady rhythm of thrusts between her spread thighs.

Their moans mingled with the sound of Daman’s balls slapping against her as he increased the pace, desire consuming him like an inferno burning him up alive.  Releasing her wrists, he took hold of her legs and pushed them up in the air, allowing him to move deeper and deeper into her sweltering wet center.  Her head thrashed around and her hands clenched the covers, evidence of her impending orgasm.  He crashed into her again and again, and reached down in search of her swollen nub.  He rubbed it between his fingers, swirling her moisture over the tip as he continued ramming her pussy.

“Oh!” she shrieked and writhed as if experiencing a seizure.  Her walls pulsed and clamped down around his length, driving him over the precipice and into a mind numbing release of his own that left him weak and fighting for oxygen.  Shana rode the wave with him, bucking wildly and shamelessly as his seed spurted into her depths.  He collapsed beside her and gathered her close.  Was she all right?

“Shana?”

“Hmm?” she purred, leaning against his chest.  Her hair tickled his nose, and as always, she smelled of lavender.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?

She froze in his arms.  “No, I don’t believe you have.”

“I’ve loved you since the first time I set eyes on you in Okkman Settlement.  You were crying, but when you looked up and saw me, you wiped away your tears and smiled at me.”

She lifted her head and met his eyes.  The seriousness that clouded her features as the seconds passed rose his senses to high alert, waiting for her response.  It would gut him if she didn’t love him, and he felt weak for it.  She was a woman, his woman, his wife, his property.  Whether or not she returned his affections shouldn’t matter a whit.

The clouds parted from her eyes as her expression softened, and she delved her fingers into his hair, circling his short locks around as she grew thoughtful with her lips pursed.  She sighed.  “I love you too.  I’ve loved you since you tucked me into bed that first night and told me my grief would one day fade.  It wasn’t a romantic love at first, but it turned into that over the years.”

Relief rushed through him at her confession, and a violent surge of possessiveness caused him to pull her nearer.  She would be the only woman for him until the day he died.

Chapter 4

As the end of October arrived, Shana’s nervousness over the wedding celebration increased.  Everywhere she went in the settlement, whispers seemed to follow.  Her two closet friends, Margery and Beth, insisted no one was gossiping about her marriage to Daman, but she suspected they were lying to protect her feelings.  Did people gossip like this before The Fall?  She made a mental note to ask old Mary Miller.

Shana’s heart bounced when she glanced out the kitchen window and spotted Daman in the backyard.  The wide door of his workshop was open, and he was busy building a bookcase for one of the neighbors.  The shop was brimming with new furniture he’d made, and she realized it wouldn’t be long before he hauled it away to a trading post or another settlement.  She hated when he left her, and he never invited her to accompany him on any of his trips.

She stirred the soup on the stove, tasted it, and added a few more spices before stealing another look out the window at her new husband.  Maybe since she was now his wife he’d bring her along next time.  Yes, she’d bring it up over lunch.  He’d been in high spirits for the last two weeks – since their wedding.  She’d also been on her best behavior and hadn’t had a real spanking since then either.  Of course, he smacked her behind during their playacting in bed, but that didn’t count.  A real spanking was when he scolded her, bent her over the desk in his study, and paddled her butt until she could scarcely breathe through the painful blows.  A real spanking left her sore and blistered for days, remorseful and humbled.

She shivered, despite the warmth rising up from the stove.  The day would come that she either disobeyed or displeased him enough to warrant true discipline at his hands.  Would it be different now that they were married?  She felt safe with Daman, she trusted him more than anyone else, yet she feared the first actual spanking as his wife.

Beth had confessed once that her husband whipped her with a belt for cursing at him during an argument.  It wasn’t unusual for a wife to be physically disciplined by her husband.  Men were the heads of the household, and in this fallen world, women were property to be sold into marriage.  If Daman had arranged a union for her with another man, he would’ve had to pay a dowry – and considering her age a high one at that.  Were the settlement folk raising eyebrows over this fact?  Instead of paying a man to take her off his hands, Daman saved coin and trading goods by keeping her for himself.  They might love each other, but the rest of the world wouldn’t know about the deep feelings that had taken root and grown into a beautiful garden.  To most of the world, they probably looked like a perversion allowed to exist only because of a technicality, the technicality that they weren’t blood relatives.

She returned her attention to the soup and began slicing the bread she’d baked early in the morning.  Daman’s heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway just as she finished setting the table and placing the final touches on dinner.

“Smells good,” he said as he rounded the corner and strode into the kitchen.  His work clothes were filthy, but she didn’t mind.  She was lucky to have such a hardworking man to take care of her.

“How’s the bookcase coming along?”  She smiled and offered him a towel after he finished washing his hands in the basin on the counter.

“It’s finished, aside from a coat of paint.  I’m running low on paint though, so it’ll have to wait until my next trading mission.

Daman sat at the table and Shana served his meal, and then took her place across from him.

“Mm.  Tastes wonderful, as always.”

She blushed at his compliment.  “Thank you, Uncle.”  She called him Uncle outside of the bedroom too, and to her delight he didn’t seem to mind.  For a reason she couldn’t explain, it gave her a sense of security.  Even though they were now husband and wife, he would always be the loving uncle who’d taken care of her during the darkest hour of her life.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Shana,” he said.  “You’re nearly bursting at the seams.”

Her mouth dropped open and she felt the color drain from her face.  Why must Daman read her like a book?  Why couldn’t she be a better actress?  She took a deep breath and lifted her chin, hoping she looked more grown up than she felt.  Here goes nothing, she thought.  “I want to accompany you on your next trading mission.”

“Absolutely not.”  The lines on his face hardened and he focused on his meal, deaf to her groan of protest.

“Why not?” she pressed on, pushing back from the table.  “I’m an adult and I’m a married woman.  I’m not a child you have to look after anymore.  I can take care of myself.”

“The answer is no.  It’s dangerous and I won’t have you setting foot outside this settlement unless it’s absolutely necessary.”  His spoon clattered in his bowl and he sat up straight, glaring across the table at an equally angry Shana.

“I’ve walked outside the settlement barrier before and nothing bad ever happened,” she reminded him.  Once, not long after she turned eighteen, she snuck away with friends to the gypsy village four miles away.  The people there were strange but kind, and they played the wildest music and danced the night away every night.  Of course, when Daman discovered her transgression after he caught her climbing into her bedroom window the next morning, he punished her severely.  Every evening before bed for a full week, he strapped her bottom and thighs until her voice grew hoarse from screaming.  Okay, so the memory of crossing the settlement barrier wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but she didn’t so much as stub a toe during her brief adventure in the outside world, or “The Dark World,” as Daman called it.

“I should paddle you for bringing that up,” he finally said, rising up from his chair.  He edged around the table and crossed his arms over his broad chest.  With his sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick forearms, he looked quite forbidding.

“The only reason no harm came to you that night was because of pure luck.  Outcasts and thieves roam the hills and often prey upon the gypsies.  You could’ve been raped or murdered!”  He rarely raised his voice, but he was shouting now, and his arms dropped to his sides as he turned his back on Shana.  “You are not to leave Jackson Settlement.”  He stomped out of the kitchen, leaving her to brood at the table alone.

“Overprotective brute,” she muttered, staring down at her untouched meal.

When she slinked into bed that night, she was still steaming mad.  She turned over on her side and pretended to be asleep when Daman entered a short while later.  She didn’t plan to speak to him until he changed his mind about bringing her along on the trading mission.  Daman had left Jackson Settlement dozens of times with a large group of men and no harm ever came to any of them.  How could he claim the outside world was so dangerous when nothing bad had happened during any of his numerous missions?

“I know you’re not sleeping.”  The bed dipped and cool air rushed her legs as he crawled under the covers, pressing his body up against her back.

“Leave me alone,” she said, scooting even farther to the edge of the bed.  If he thought she’d be intimate with him tonight, he must be crazy.  To her relief, he sighed and left the bed and bedroom altogether without another word.

Good.  She had half a mind to sneak off to the gypsy village one night soon, if only to prove her point that she could take care of herself.  Margery and Beth had gone with her last time, but now that they were both married too, she wasn’t sure they’d be willing to undertake an adventure sure to displease their husbands, especially Beth.

“Let’s get this over with, Shana.”

She jumped up at the sound of her husband’s gruff voice.  He stood in the doorway, a strap dangling from his hand – the same awful strap he’d applied to her bare bottom after her interlude with the gypsies.  Her stomach flipped and she shook her head adamantly, only to witness his jaw tense and the steely resolve in his eyes announce that she couldn’t talk her way out of this punishment.

“Why?” she asked, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“My word is law in this house, Shana, and you haven’t respected it today.  You’ve been argumentative and I’m sick of your sulking.  We need to clear the air.”

Her stomach lurched again.  “I haven’t done anything wrong, not really.  You can’t spank me.  Please don’t,” she pleaded, yet knew her protests wouldn’t sway him a bit.

He approached the bed, the menacing strap still gripped in one hand.  “You’ve behaved disrespectfully to me today and I won’t have it.  I care about you and want only what’s best for you, Shana, and you need to trust my decisions.  The roads leading to the trading post are dangerous.  I’ve sheltered you from the horrors I’ve seen during my trips away, and perhaps I shouldn’t have done that, but I won’t have you behaving like a petulant child every time you don’t get your way.”

A twinge of guilt caught Shana unawares, jarring her out of her anger.  She eyed the strap and gulped.  The memory of how awful it stung still lingered, and she’d do anything to get out of this punishment.  “I’m so sorry,” she said, lowering her head.  “Please forgive me.  Please don’t strap me.  I won’t bring up leaving the settlement again, I promise.”

“You’re going to get the strapping you deserve, my sweet,” he said, slapping the implement against his palm and causing her to gasp.  “Now stand up and remove your nightgown and underclothes.  If I have to ask twice, I’ll take the strap to your breasts as well.”

What?  Unsure of whether she’d heard him correctly, she hurried to obey his command.  She dreaded this punishment, but she dreaded the prospect of him strapping her breasts more than her bottom.  As she tossed her undergarments toward her nightgown on the floor, a realization hit her like a slap to the face.  Uncle Daman would’ve never strapped his niece’s breasts, not before they were married.  Being punished by Daman as his wife would be different, and to her mortification, possibly worse.

He sat down on the bed, his back straight and his shoulders squared.  “Come lay over my lap, Shana.  I’m going to punish you like the naughty little girl you are.”

* * *

The sight of Shana’s bare bottom never failed to fire up Daman’s desire.  He rubbed one hand over her ass cheeks and positioned her to his liking over his lap, wrapping one leg around hers to prevent kicking.  He planned to strap her butt and her thighs using most of his strength, and he didn’t want to give her the chance to escape, lest he be forced to add additional strokes.

How she’d gotten it in her head to visit the trading post was beyond him.  None of the men allowed their wives or daughters to travel the dangerous roads.  Ever careful, Daman insured the group he organized was heavily armed and remained vigilant through the entire trip.  Outlaws had attacked them on a handful of occasions, but none of the Jackson Settlement men had suffered a casualty in years.  Daman was blessed with a sixth sense when it came to danger, and the men in the settlement respected him for leading them to and from the trading post with nary a scratch.

Shana’s presence would be an immense distraction.  All their lives would be endangered if he couldn’t focus.  It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take, especially because he couldn’t guarantee her safety.  The thought of harm coming to Shana because of her own stubborn foolishness prompted a resurgence of anger to boil his blood hotter than the mid-July sun.

He tightened his hold on her waist and raised the strap.  It fell with a resounding crack across her bottom cheeks.  Before the first red mark appeared, he swung the strap down, again and again, covering her flesh from her lower thighs to the middle of her upturned backside.  It didn’t take long for her whimpers to turn to howls, but he kept on swinging.  He intended this lesson to be a memorable one.  He paused near the end and splayed her cheeks apart with one hand.  Setting the strap aside, he gathered moisture from her pussy with his fingers, keeping her spread wide.

“The next time I hear mention of you stepping an inch over the settlement barrier, you can expect another session with the strap.”

She gasped as two fingers pushed into her tight bottom hole.  He hadn’t penetrated her here since the night before their wedding.

“How dare you disrespect me, Shana,” he scolded as he pumped in and out of her asshole.  “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Oh!  You did!” she said, speaking for the first time since the first stroke of the strap.  “Please!  I’m sorry.”  Her bottom muscles clenched around his thrusting digits, but his momentum didn’t slow.

“Soon you will feel my cock here, Shana, during punishments and during lovemaking.  Your body belongs to me.”

“Yes, Uncle,” she said.

He withdrew his fingers completely, only to push deep past his knuckles, and repeated the process a dozen times more.  Stopping once her shoulders relaxed and he sensed her total submission, he rubbed and inspected her bottom, which was a lovely crimson.  Only a few small welts had risen.  He thought of the night she’d snuck away to the gypsy town and his jaw tightened at the memory.

“You’ll take the final ten bent over the bed,” he announced as he slowly helped her to stand.  Their eyes locked as she straightened, and Daman nearly lost his resolve when her lip quivered.  Tears filled her eyes and she wiped at her face, sniffling.

Shana was crying – for the first time in years.

Concerned, he inspected her from head to toe, turning her around to double check her punished thighs and ass.  Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.  He’d turned her backside a brighter red than this on many occasions.  So why the hell was she suddenly sobbing when harsher punishments didn’t illicit as much as a single tear?  He spun her around.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, searching her face.  “Why are you crying?”

Another heavy sob racked her body and she attempted to look away, but Daman cupped her face between his hands, forcing her to meet his anxious gaze.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded, growing tenser by the second.

“I – I don’t know,” she sobbed, fresh tears pouring from her eyes.  “I’m just so sorry.”

He sighed as most of his anger evaporated.  It wasn’t fair to punish her again for misdeeds she committed at the age of eighteen.  He reminded himself why she was being punished, which was mainly because of her bad attitude in response to his refusal to bring her on the trading mission.  Of course, he’d promised her ten additional strokes of the strap, and he was nothing if not a man of his word.  He couldn’t command respect by being a pushover.  Tilting her head up, he planted a kiss on her lips.

“I know you’re sorry, Shana, but you’re punishment isn’t over yet.  Bend over the bed so we can finish this.”

She wiped at her eyes again and nodded.  As she took position, he decided to end her suffering and deliver the strokes in rapid succession.  He placed a firm hand on her lower back to prevent her from rising up.  Careful not to strap the same place twice in a row, he brought the leather implement down across her punished flesh ten times.  She rose up on her toes but made no attempt to thwart him.

“It’s over.”  Daman dropped the strap and stroked his hand down her back.  Her shoulders heaved as she mumbled incoherent apologies into the covers.  Her hands surrounded her face, and her breathing gradually slowed.

At first her tears had scared him, but now they brought him hope.  The emotional wall she’d built around her heart was crumbling down.  This pleased him greatly.  He wanted all of Shana – her light and her darkness, her happiness and her sorrow.

His hand roamed lower to cup her exposed mound.  Even without gliding his fingers through her folds, he could feel her pussy weeping for his touch.  “All is forgiven, Shana,” he said as he freed his engorged cock.  Taking her body was the final act that would seal the rift between them.

Her walls clamped down on his shaft as he pushed inside her slick entrance.  He groaned, lost in the delicious sensation as she pulsed around him.  She pushed her center backward and arched her back to allow him fuller access to her pussy channel.  Pulling out, he rammed forward and repeated the process as he gripped her hips.  The rhythm of his thrusts quickened, and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before pure ecstasy surged through his senses and culminated in a powerful, quaking release.  As their bodies rocked together, he glanced down at her little form underneath him and his heart swelled with joy.  She was his, all his.  He groaned and threw his head back as he released inside her welcoming warmth.

All his.

Chapter 5

The temperature drops to freezing most nights now, Shana realized with a heavy heart as she stared out the kitchen window.  She regarded Daman conversing with the group of men he’d assembled for the trading mission in the backyard.  Further away in a nearby field, she saw over a dozen supply wagons lined up and ready for their horses.  Tonight the monthly marriage celebration would be held, and tomorrow the chosen men would leave before sunrise for the trading post.  A gust of wind disturbed the large map Daman was bent over, and Shana shivered even though she was indoors.  Would he fall asleep at night on the side of the road, freezing and dreaming of home?

She tapped her fingers on the counter and gave Margery a wary glance.

“Oh stop fretting,” her friend said, rolling her eyes dramatically.  “They’ll be fine.  They always are.”

Shana sighed and went back to work fixing turkey sandwiches for lunch.  “Daman said it’s dangerous.”  She paused.  “I asked him to take me along and he refused.”

“You what?”  Margery shook her head, laughing.  “Mark says taking a woman on the road is bad luck – not that I’ve ever asked if I could come along.”  She placed the sandwiches Shana had made on a tray.

Shana shrugged and grinned at her friend.  “Okay, I’ll admit it wasn’t my brightest idea.”  Her sore bottom clenched involuntarily as she remembered the cost of her wayward tongue.

Margery delivered the sandwiches to the men while Shana started cleaning up the mess.  Once lunch was eaten and the kitchen made spotless, the two women decided to visit Beth in the greenhouse.  Rare solar panels kept the greenhouse warm all year round, so it would be a cozy place to pass the afternoon.

Shana led the way to the awesome structure situated behind the Clayton house.  Heat instantly enveloped her as she walked inside.  Even during the harshest winter day one could enjoy fresh fruits and vegetables in the settlement.  Beth’s husband, Mr. Clayton, had engineered the building of the massive domed structure six years ago.  Everyone pitched in to help take care of the produce, and a second greenhouse was scheduled to be built next summer.

Beth was busy picking blueberries from the potted blueberry bushes in the middle of the aisles.  Her face lit up when she saw her friends.  “I hope you’re here to help,” she said, nodding toward some buckets stacked on a stool nearby.

Shana laughed.  “As long as you promise to put those in one of your pies, I’ll help.”

Beth narrowed her eyebrows mockingly.  “Oh fine, it’s a deal.”

The three women picked the berries for a few minutes in silence.  Shana was nervous about the marriage celebration and Daman’s imminent departure to the trading post, and she tried to use this opportunity to clear her head.  It didn’t work.  Her insides were all twisted up, and her stomach kept lodging in her throat.

“It’ll be nice having you around for company for the next two weeks,” Beth finally said, giving Shana a cautious look followed by a reassuring smile.  “I have the guest room all made up for you.”

Margery gasped.  “Daman still won’t let you stay by yourself?  I thought since you were married now –”  Her voice trailed off and her unspoken words hung in the air.

Ugh.  Embarrassed didn’t even began to describe how Shana felt at this moment.  Her face burned as she regarded her two best friends.  What could she tell them?

“He treats you like a child,” Margery said, tossing a handful of blueberries in her bucket.  “You’re nearly twenty-four.  Doesn’t he know how old you are?  Mark never makes me stay with anyone when he leaves.”

Shana didn’t need any reminders about her age, or for Margery to rub it in that Mark let her get away with murder.  “He thinks I’ll be lonely if I’m by myself for two weeks,” she said, half lying.  Daman really wanted to ensure Shana behaved herself, especially after she’d recently brought up the subject of traveling outside the settlement barriers.  Her husband trusted Mr. Clayton to keep an eye on her.

Margery shrugged.  “If you say so.”

Shut up, Margery.  Shana nearly crushed the berries she held in her tightening fist before she realized what she was doing.

“Guess what?” Beth suddenly asked, a twinkle in her eye.  “The Johnson triplets are sneaking off to the gypsy village on Friday night.”

“Really?” Shana asked, grateful for the change of subject and ready to latch onto it.  “How do you know?”

Beth picked up an empty bucket and began filling it with more berries from the next bush.  “They asked me for directions.”  She grinned and spun around, her dress flaring outwards.  “Remember how much fun we all had that night?”

Margery nodded enthusiastically.  “I’ll never forget it.  What a night it was!”

Oh, no.  Shana didn’t like where this was going.  Nope, not one bit.  Neither of her friends had gotten caught, and neither of her friends knew the price she had paid for defying Uncle Daman.  “Yes, it was fun,” she offered, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.  It was fun . . . until she got caught.

“They invited me to go with them,” Beth said, winking as she popped a blueberry in her mouth.

“Let’s do it!” Margery said, throwing her hands up in the air.  “It won’t be long before the three of us have babies.  This is our last chance for some wicked fun.”

Beth shot her friends a pointed look.  “Won’t your husbands be angry?”

“Not if they don’t find out,” Beth said, practically singing the words as she twirled again.

“I can’t go with you,” Shana said nervously, her thoughts centered on how disappointed Daman would be if she disobeyed.  And the awful strap.  Especially the awful strap.

“Why not?” Margery asked, a hand on her hip.

“I promised Daman I wouldn’t set foot outside the barrier again.”

“Again?”  Beth’s eyes widened.  “What do you mean again?  How does he know about the first time?”

She flushed.  “If you must know, he caught me sneaking back through my window all those years ago.  He wasn’t pleased.”  And he took a strap to my bare bottom every night for a week.  That’s why I never told you.

Margery’s eyes shone.  “You’re forgetting something, my dear.  Daman won’t be here on Friday.  It’ll be easier for you to sneak away than it will be for us,” she said, gesturing between herself and Beth.

“You’re both the devil,” Shana said, sighing.  “Okay, okay, I’ll think about it.”  Hopefully that would placate her friends for now.  No matter what Beth and Margery said though, she wouldn’t think twice about visiting the gypsy village with them.

The three women filled up ten buckets of blueberries while talking about the marriage celebration that night.  Margery had promised to watch her sister’s baby, so she would miss out this month, but Beth would be in attendance with her husband.  Shana was happy there would be at least one friendly face in the crowd.  After helping Beth close up the greenhouse, Shana delivered a bucket of blueberries to old Mary Miller, stopped at the library on a personal errand, and went home to prepare for the impending party.

She took a long bath, all the while mourning the days to come.  She had missed Daman each and every time he left the settlement, but now that he was her husband she felt his imminent absence like a gaping wound in her chest.  Asking to come along with the men had been silly.  She understood that in retrospect.  Even Margery had thought her crazy for asking such a question.

Beth and Margery were the crazy ones though.  They planned to visit the gypsy village in less than a week!  Shana doubted she could say anything to sway their minds, especially Margery’s.  Margery’s husband was a big pushover, and even if she were caught, she would hardly suffer through a scolding.  Beth’s husband seemed just as strict as Daman, and Shana was certain Beth would suffer severe consequences if she were caught.  How did Beth plan to sneak out when she shared a bed with her husband?

Shana sank lower in the tub, submerging her head completely underwater.  She held her breath for as long as possible, because when she emerged, it would be time to dry off and don her mother’s wedding party gown.  When the pressure in her torso became unbearable, she resurfaced and sucked in a much needed gulp of air.  Loneliness spun a tangled web of heartache through her chest.  Her mother was dead, and Shana would be preparing for the party alone.  All the other girls had their mothers or aunts or sisters to help them get ready.

She stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her dripping body.  She supposed she would ache for a female presence now and then in the years to come.  It was probably normal, but she wouldn’t let it ruin her last night with Daman before his departure.

She hastily towel dried her hair and braided it into a crown atop her head, leaving half of it flowing down her back.  She applied a hint of makeup, just as she had the day they’d gone to the chapel.  Warm stockings and the dress came next.  At least her mother’s dress was long-sleeved and heavy.  The wedding celebration was always held outside, even in the dead of winter, so she was grateful for the warmth of the garment.  As she struggled to close the countless buttons on the back of the dress, Daman pushed aside the curtain and entered her bedroom – her old bedroom.  She’d decided to get ready here so her husband would have enough space to prepare on his own.

The air in the room seemed to warm as he approached her, his eyes conveying so much heat she nearly melted at his feet.  God be good, she loved this man so much it hurt to breath sometimes.

“Here,” he said, turning her to face the mirror.  “Let me help you.”

As he worked to close the buttons on her gown, Shana peered at his reflection in the mirror.  He wore a dark gray suit.  His hair was damp from a recent bath, and it shimmered brilliantly in the candlelight, and combined with his burning eyes gave him an unearthly look.  Like a fallen angel, she thought with a secret smile.

“Something funny?” he asked, spinning her around after latching the last button.

She flushed.  “I’m just very happy,” she said.  That wasn’t a lie, at least.

He studied her for a long while, holding her out by her arms.  His mouth opened.  “I have something for you.”  He dropped her arms, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a beautiful diamond encrusted comb.

Shana gasped.  She’d never seen anything like it.

“It belonged to my mother,” he said.

“Oh, Daman, it’s beautiful.  Thank you,” she said, smiling wide.

He lifted his arms and fixed the comb in place within her crown of braids.  She glanced at herself in the mirror, feeling like a princess from one of the storybooks she’d seen in the library.

“Oh!” she gasped, catching his eyes in the mirror.  “I have something for you too.”  From under the pillow on her old bed, she produced a package wrapped in light green fabric, tied with a gold ribbon.  She watched his expression as he opened it, praying he would like it.  To her immense relief, he grinned like a child opening a birthday present when he pulled the book free from its wrappings.

“How did you get the library to part with this book?  It’s their only copy.”  He held up the abused copy of 1984, his favorite book, and began flipping through the pages.

Shana giggled.  “That took a lot of negotiating with Mr. Anderson.  I ended up agreeing to hold a story and craft time for children twice a week for the next four months.”  She bit her lip and eyed him worriedly.  “I hope you won’t mind.”

Daman sighed, shaking his head while wearing the biggest grin she’d ever seen.  “You’re something,” he said.  “Thank you.”

“So you really like it?  I had the hardest time figuring out your present.  You’re a difficult man to please, you know.”

He drew her closer, encircling his arms around her waist.  “I love it, Shana.  And I love you.”

* * *

Daman glanced at the starry sky, eyeing the waxing gibbous moon appreciatively.   It was large and bright, and the impending fullness of it would make a perfect travel companion, assuming the weather held out.  Laughter and music filled the square where he stood beside Shana, holding a possessive arm around her waist.  She was breathless from dancing with the settlement children.  It was considered good luck to dance with as many brides as possible, so superstitious parents encouraged their children to dance with all the young women dressed in white.

“Are you tired?” he asked, cocking his head in her direction.

“Yes, but I don’t want to leave yet,” she said with a smile, and then added, “As long as that’s all right with you.”

His little wife was full of surprises.  She hadn’t seemed enthusiastic about this celebration, and now she appeared to be having the time of her life.  Her foot never stopped tapping the ground, in beat with the music.  She didn’t refuse one child who requested a dance, and she spoke happily with everyone.  At least there hadn’t been any kind of backlash as a result of their unlikely union.  The congratulations thrown his way all night seemed genuine, and he was happy Shana wouldn’t ever have to feel awkward for wedding her legal guardian.

“We can stay as long as you like, my sweet,” he replied, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered in his ear so no one else could hear.

He gave her a stern look for her intentional disobedience.  If he didn’t know better, he’d think she wanted a spanking.  “You’ll be getting the paddle for that, young lady,” he warned.

She blushed and looked down.  “Yes, Sir,” she said, suppressing a grin and wiggling against him.

Oh, he planned to give it to her good tonight.  Not just because she wanted it, but because he wanted to send her to the Clayton house with a sore bottom as a reminder to behave during his absence.  Before he could threaten her further, two children dashed up to her and requested a dance.  He sent her away with a kiss and a soft pat to her bottom.

They stayed until almost midnight, and before they departed Shana dragged him around the square to bid everyone goodnight.  He loved to watch her interact with others like this; it brought heaps of joy to his heart.  He was drowning in happiness by the time they reached home.  And just as he did the morning he brought her home from the chapel, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside.

Except they didn’t go to the bedroom.

Daman had promised Shana a paddling, and he intended to honor that promise with her bent over the desk in his study, just like old times.  He placed her on her feet after entering the room, and loomed over her with his arms crossed.

Her eyes widened and she took a step back.  “Uncle?” she asked, her voice trembling.  “Daman?  Have I displeased you tonight?”

He dropped his arms and walked toward her until she was backed up against the wall.  “What did I say would happen if you called me Uncle in public?” he asked, keeping his visage hard.

She paled.  “But I only whispered it!  I thought you were joking when you said you would paddle me.”  She glanced at the awful wooden implement hanging on the wall nearby and shuddered.

Daman lifted her chin with a finger.  “It doesn’t matter if anyone heard you or not.  You disobeyed me, and for that I will paddle your little bottom.”

Her lip quivered, and he was happy to know last night’s tears weren’t a random occurrence.  He would make her cry again tonight.

“Turn around,” he commanded, and made fast work of undoing her buttons once she obeyed.  The huge white gown fell to the floor, and he pushed her undergarments down with it, baring her to his gaze and his punishment.  He guided her to stand in the center of the room.

“I’m so sorry,” Shana said, bowing her head.

His cock was rock hard at this point.  Before he ever touched her bottom, the whole process of informing her of her punishment and preparing her for it always kindled his desire.  And it always had, even before she’d become his wife.

“This isn’t just about calling me Uncle in public,” Daman confessed, walking a slow circle around her trembling body.  “You’re a married woman now and you need to act like it.  I don’t want to hear of you misbehaving in my absence.  You will be polite during your stay at the Clayton’s house, and if I hear you get up to any mischief, I will make sure that weeks’ worth of strappings you received after visiting the gypsies seems like a slap on the wrist.”

She gasped and then nodded her head vigorously.  “I promise I’ll be good,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hands at your sides, Shana,” he said, stopping directly in front of her.  “I will use the paddle on you tonight, but I will also punish you in more intimate ways, ways that may seem strange to you.  I want you to be a good girl and accept your punishment.”

She nodded, and this time a tear fell down her cheek.  He brushed it away with his thumb and stroked her face.  After a while, he stepped back and eyed her large breasts, heaving under her quick breaths.  She stiffened when he pinched one nipple, twisting it until it became a hard little peak.  He treated the other nipple to the same pinching and twisting, this time making her whimper.

“Remember to keep your hands at your sides,” he instructed.  A moment later, he brought his palm down against the side of her right breast, giving it a quick slap.

She started and met his gaze.

“Lower your eyes,” he snapped.  “You will not look at me during your punishment unless I give you permission.”

In a split second, her eyes dropped to his chest.

“Good girl.”  He slapped her left breast and brought his hand down on her right one again.  Alternating breasts, he smacked her soft skin sharply, hard enough to draw sounds of distress from her throat.  Her face was red, evidence of her extreme humiliation at this brand of punishment.  Before the night ended, she would experience more pain and humiliation at his hands, but also love.  He punished her because he loved her.  Every mark he gave her was a testament of the deep affection he harbored for the woman he’d gladly sacrifice his life to protect.

She winced as his hand fell again and again, slapping down on her tender breasts.  To her credit, she kept her hands at her side and didn’t retreat from his punishing hand.  When he decided she’d had enough, he ordered her to kneel.  She sank to her knees and kept her eyes cast down.  But what she did next would haunt him for weeks afterward.

Lifting her chin a notch, she leaned forward and kissed the top of his right hand, the very hand that had delivered the harsh blows to her breasts, and the very hand that would wield the paddle against her bottom.  Her lips lingered on his hand for a few seconds, and he felt the moisture of her tears falling.

If there was ever a doubt that Shana was the perfect woman for him, it evaporated like morning mist in the sun.  He began to pet her hair once her lips broke contact with his hand.  Her action spoke louder than words, and he knew she loved him and accepted his rule over her.  Painfully engorged, his cock stiffened further, and he opened the front of his pants, intending for her lips to wrap around his staff.  If he was to continue with the punishment he intended to deliver, he needed an initial release now.

She licked her lips and took his cock in her mouth, holding the base with her hand.  She was such a good girl, jogging her head forward and backward just like he’d taught her, careful to keep her lips sealed tight and her tongue dancing along the tip of his length when her head reared back.  His eyes shut and he groaned his pleasure.  Electric fire churned in his balls as they tightened, and he delved his fingers into her hair to hold her head in place as he came hard with his cock buried deep down her throat.  When he pulled away a small eternity later, his shaft was clean of his seed.  Pleased that she’d swallowed all he gave her, he stroked her hair with both hands for a minute before lifting her up to stand.

“Go stand in the corner with your fingers laced behind your head,” he instructed, giving her bottom a pat as he pointed her in the right direction.

Shana took up residence in the corner and positioned her hands as requested.  Daman took this time to study his wife.  Only one mark from her last punishment lingered.  All the rest had faded.  His mind soon drifted back to the kiss she’d placed on his hand after he’d spanked her breasts.  Yes, she was definitely full of surprises tonight.  He hated the thought of leaving her to travel to the damned trading post, but the livelihood of many families in Jackson Settlement rested on these trading missions, including his.  He could only build and trade so much furniture within the confines of the settlement barrier.  Traveling outside the settlement offered a greater variety of foods and other goods necessary for comfortable living.

He sighed and retrieved the wooden paddle from its place on the wall.  It was slightly wider than the palm of his hand and polished smooth.  He’d made it himself, not long after Shana’s trip to the gypsy village.  Eight small holes were drilled in the center of the implement to decrease wind resistance and give the paddle a stinging bite.  By the time he finished with her tonight, she would be in tears and in a state of submission so deep she wouldn’t bat an eye when he fucked her ass afterwards.  Yes, tonight he would claim her bottom hole fully.

“It’s time, my sweet.  Come bend over the desk.”  He tapped the paddle against his palm as she complied, walking over to position her nude body over the desk which was usually covered with maps and trading documents.

His desire reawakened as she spread her legs wide without being told to do it.  Normally, she kept her thighs pressed together until he nudged her feet apart.  Long blond waves spread around her head haphazardly, obscuring her face.  He decided to allow it.  He could read her body language well enough without looking at her facial expressions.  Gripping the paddle in his right hand, he stood alongside her body and pressed a firm hand against the small of her back.

The paddle whooshed through the air and landed with a loud crack against her bottom cheeks.  Her breath hissed out and he brought the implement down again before she had a chance to inhale.  He gave her ten more harsh strokes before pausing.  “You will not call me Uncle again in public, Shana.”  Whack!  “You will behave yourself in the Clayton house while I am gone.”  Whack!  Whack!

“Oh!” she shrieked, her hands curling into little fists.  “I’m sorry!  I promise to do as you say.  It hurts.  Please-please-please stop.”  Her pleading only awakened his desire more.  He loved it when she begged, whether it was for more of something or less.  It was in his power to give and take, and she was at his mercy, always.

He shifted position and laid a volley of blows across her upper thighs, causing her to plead further.  She wiggled and danced on her toes, but since she was bent over the desk she couldn’t go anywhere.  The paddle cracked across her cheeks again.  Daman didn’t count strokes, but he didn’t stop the punishment until her bottom and thighs were cherry red and she was sobbing into her hands across the desk.  He returned the paddle to the wall and lifted Shana up.  As he wiped at her tears, she kissed his right hand again, stunning him into silence for the second time that night.  A mirage of emotions he’d never felt before surged within him, so overwhelmed was he by her repeated gesture of love and acceptance.

His hand traveled lower down her back as he embraced her, and he slipped one finger between her cheeks to discover her bottom hole.  She started but stilled in the next moment, allowing him to push against her tight ring of muscle.  “I’m going to fuck you here tonight, Shana, and you’re going to be a good girl and relax that little hole while I slide my cock inside you.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Anticipation and desire swelled Daman’s cock larger as he led her to their bedroom.  She stood submissively with her head lowered as he stacked pillows at the end of the bed.  One snap of his fingers and she immediately bent over the pillows, presenting her body to him like a good girl.  Daman lost his clothes on the floor and fisted his cock in one hand as he approached Shana from behind.  Her pussy was slick with her arousal, and he used her natural essence to moisten the entrance of her puckering hole.  Eager to claim her fully, he thrust forward into her wet center to coat his shaft.  Finally, he spread her punished cheeks wide and positioned his cock at her shy, pulsing hole.

“Remember to relax,” he reminded her, and drove his hard length forward into her tight opening.

The training with his fingers must’ve prepared her for his large intrusion, because she only clenched down on him a few times as he fucked her tiny asshole.  Her soft moans encouraged him to quicken his pace.  His mind clouded with erotic thoughts of Shana.  The thermometer punishment.  Thrusting his fingers into her ass.  The way her breasts bounced as he slapped them.  And the way she’d kissed his hand in reverence, twice.  This last image pushed him over the edge and into a mind-blowing release that had him moaning her name and gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks on her flesh.

Chapter 6

“What do you think of this dress for tonight?” Beth asked from the doorway of the guestroom.

Shana looked up from the mirror where she was brushing her hair and frowned.  Ugh.  It was Friday.  “You’re not really going to the gypsy village, are you?”

“Of course I am!  And so are Margery, the Johnson triplets, and Mary Anne.”

“How will you sneak out?”  Shana hoped Beth wouldn’t ask for help in covering for her absence.  It suddenly occurred to her that she ran the risk of disobeying Daman’s order to behave.  She knew Beth and Margery were about to disobey their husbands, but she was keeping it to herself.  Would Daman be angry if she kept her friends’ secrets?  Her heart nearly stopped.  Yes, he would be livid.

“I’m going to tell him Ella Baker is having her baby and I agreed to help the midwife.  I’ve helped the midwife a few times.  He’ll believe me.”  She winked.  “And when Ella doesn’t have her baby just yet, I’ll say it was false labor.”  Giggling, Beth held the dress against her body and twirled around, then gasped and backed into Shana’s room as if a lion was stalking her.

Shana stood up and started to speak, but snapped her mouth shut when Mr. Clayton’s huge form filled up the doorway.  Her stomach flipped, even though she wasn’t the one in trouble this time, at least she hoped not.

“Charles,” Beth said, lowering her head.  “I thought you were in the greenhouse.”

“I was, but I came back for my hat.  Imagine my surprise to find my wife scheming behind my back!”  His last few words came out as roar.

Shana cringed and retreated to a shadowy spot on the other side of her bed.  She didn’t want to witness Beth’s interrogation or inevitable punishment.  Would they leave her room?

“So it’s you,” he said, stabbing a finger at Beth, “Margery, the Johnson twins, and Mary Anne?  Anyone else?”

A sob ripped from Beth’s throat as she hugged the dress to her chest like a shield.  “Yes, that’s all,” she sniffled.

Based on Beth’s fearful reaction to being caught red-handed by Mr. Clayton, Shana suspected Beth had suffered more than that one whipping at his hand.  She vowed to take a long walk through the settlement when Mr. Clayton punished Beth.  No way did she wish to witness Beth’s pain and humiliation, even if she only heard it.  How awful it would be if Daman spanked her in another’s presence.  She winced at the thought.

“I need to go have a talk with Margery’s husband, Mary Anne’s father, and Mr. Johnson.  I’ll not have those girls sneaking off and coming to harm.  When I return, I expect to find both of you sitting at the kitchen table.”  He spun around and left without another word.

Both of them?  Fear raced through Shana and she exchanged a worried glance with Beth.  She didn’t think Mr. Clayton would try to spank her, but if she’d misbehaved, in his eyes, of course he’d give a detailed report to Daman.  Maybe her knowledge of Beth’s scheming was enough to land her in trouble too.  Her throat burned as she imagined Daman’s disappointment.

“We’d better go wait at the table,” Beth whispered.

A minute later the two women sat nervously in the kitchen, awaiting Mr. Clayton’s return.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Beth said, fresh tears filling her eyes.

Shana gave her a reassuring smile and reached across the table to squeeze her hand.  “It’s okay.  I was hoping to talk you out of it actually,” she admitted.

Beth’s lower lip trembled.  “Charles will take his belt to me when he returns.”  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“You’ll be fine,” Shana said soothingly.  “He might punish you, but I’m sure he’ll forgive you afterwards.  Charles isn’t a cruel man.  I’m sure he only means to teach you a lesson.  I know he loves you – I can see it in the way he looks at you.”

Beth wiped at her face and took few deep breaths.  “You’re right, but I’m scared.”  She looked up at Shana.  “I’m embarrassed for you to hear it.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll take a walk.”

“Thank you,” Beth replied, her hands shaking on the table surface.

An hour passed before Mr. Clayton came stomping through the back door of the house, which opened near the kitchen.  His countenance was dark, and Shana trembled inside, even though she knew Daman hadn’t given Charles leave to discipline her, a possibly she hadn’t considered until now.  She gulped.

“Tell me everything.  Now!” he boomed, crossing his arms over his chest, the same way Daman always did.

Shana decided to speak first, mostly out of pity for Beth.  She told Mr. Clayton about the time they visited the gypsy village when they were all eighteen, and she summarized the conversation they’d had in the greenhouse a few days ago.  “Don’t be so harsh with Beth,” Shana said.  “I was planning to talk her out of going.  She might not have actually left the settlement tonight.”

“It’s kind of you to protect your friend,” Mr. Clayton said, “but I heard your conversation with Beth earlier.  It sounded like nothing would change her mind.”  He paused.  “Shana, if Beth still decided to sneak off tonight, would you have come to me about it, or would you have kept her secret?”

A wave of nausea swept over Shana.  So she was in trouble.  A little.  His question confirmed it, and she dreaded the moment Daman discovered her small part in Beth and Margery’s scheming.  “I – I was hoping I wouldn’t have to make that decision.  I don’t know what I would’ve done, but I tell you the truth when I say I wanted Beth to change her mind about sneaking off.”

“Thank you for being honest.  You may go.”  He nodded toward the back door.

Welcome relief rushed through Shana, but it was followed by a stab of guilt when she glanced at Beth.  Poor Beth.  Anger radiated off Mr. Clayton in rapid waves, and Shana sincerely hoped he calmed down before wielding the belt against Beth’s bottom.  Daman never punished Shana in a moment of anger.  Sometimes she was forced to wait in a corner for an hour or more until he was calm enough to administer a fair punishment, and Shana loved him for it.  No matter how much pain she suffered at his hand, Shana never once believed he would dole out more than she could handle.  It was why she’d kissed his hand the other night, to show her appreciation for his correction.

“Perhaps you should visit the library,” Mr. Clayton suggested as she opened the door.  “We might be a while.”

Poor Beth indeed.  Shana left without responding and headed for the library.  Mr. Anderson was thrilled to see her, and she told him she wanted to prepare for next week’s story time.  She picked out a few children’s books, set them aside in the story time area, and proceeded to roam the aisles aimlessly.  Returning to the Clayton household would be quite awkward this afternoon.  It was ten in the morning, but she didn’t plan to return until lunchtime.  After discovering a hardcover of The Lord of the Rings in fairly good condition, Shana curled up in a chair in a quiet corner of the library and flipped it open.  She didn’t make it past the first page without her thoughts wandering like a lost kitten.

Would Daman return next Saturday as promised?  Or would some unforeseen event delay his homecoming?  On occasion, bad weather added an additional day or two to their trip.  It had rained for two hours yesterday morning, and she’d spent the whole two hours staring out a window, wondering if it was raining on the road where Daman traveled.

She continued reading but didn’t catch much of A Long-expected Party, which seemed to be the longest first chapter of a book she’d ever read.  Instead of thinking about Hobbits and The Shire, she thought of the wedding celebration.  What fun she’d had, dancing with all the children and talking to everyone in the settlement.  No one had given her so much as a judgmental look, let alone spoken rudely to her for marrying her uncle.  Feeling foolish, she realized she’d only imagined whispers and strange glances following her in the days preceding the celebration.  Daman was so well-liked in this community that he could probably set the chapel on fire and be forgiven.  That image brought a smile to her face, and she scanned the library to make sure no one was watching.

As the clock tower down the street rang twelve times, Shana decided to return to the Clayton’s.  Surely, two hours was enough time for Charles to calm down and deliver Beth’s spanking.  When she reached the front door of their house, she paused and listened for a few minutes, ignoring the occasional passerby on the street.  Satisfied that she wasn’t about to interrupt a spanking-in-progress, Shana opened the door and held her breath as she crept quietly toward the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are!” Beth said, smiling prettily.  “Lunch is ready.  Talk about perfect timing.”

Shana returned her smile and shot a wary glance at Mr. Clayton sitting at the table.  He gave her a warm look and gestured to one of the chairs.  “Please, join us.”

Beth was all shy smiles during lunch, and Shana was thankful the tense mood in the house had lifted.  Mr. Clayton volunteered to help Beth dry the dishes, to Shana’s great surprise.  Before she left the kitchen, she saw Charles wrap his arms around Beth and place a kiss on her cheek.  Jealousy and loneliness coursed through Shana in equal amounts, and she fled into the hallway.  With nothing else to do, she sought the comforting warmth of the greenhouse, where she found several settlement women mixing soil to place into flats in preparation for the planting of sweet peas, broccoli, and peppers.  Shana joined them and was having a wonderful time . . . until it began to rain and her thoughts drifted to Daman.

* * *

Two long, painful weeks passed with no sign of the men who’d left for the trading post.  They were four days late, and Shana was beside herself with worry.  Charles and Beth dragged her to church to attend a special prayer in honor of the missing men, but no one volunteered to ride out on a horse to scout for them.  Mr. Clayton must have suspected Shana was thinking of riding outside the settlement barrier herself, because he kept her in his sights at all times and locked the barn at night where he kept his two horses.  She could’ve easily slipped out the back door after he fell asleep and borrowed one of the neighbors’ horses, but she was terrified of riding off into the night alone with no sense of direction.  Getting herself lost in “The Dark World” wouldn’t quicken Daman’s return.

After the fifth day, extra guards were placed along the settlement barrier, ensuring no one could leave or enter without being seen, even at night.  In all the years Shana had lived in Jackson Settlement, she’d never witnessed such precautions taken.  She supposed if something terrible could befall a group of two dozen strong, armed men, then the same something terrible could befall the settlement.  Perhaps outcasts had banded together and formed an army of thieves and murderers.  She shivered at the notion.

Mid-November rolled in and Shana awoke on the eighth day to a blanket of snow covering the ground.  She’d never felt so cold in her whole life.

* * *

Daman stretched his sore legs as he watched some of his men melting snow to water the horses.  “We pull out in twenty minutes!” he shouted to the group.  A few men nodded, but the rest huddled down in their jackets and didn’t acknowledge his order.  No matter.  He had faith the wagons would be back on the road in twenty minutes.  As long as the weather held out this afternoon, he expected to reach Jackson Settlement by nightfall.  And as long as nothing else bad happened, he would return with all his men alive and healthy.  He wished he could say the same for the horses, but armed outcasts bunkered down in the surrounding hills had been picking their horses off for over a week now.  Once the scoundrels shot a horse, Daman’s group had no use for it and left the body on the road.  The outcasts wanted the meat, and unfortunately Daman’s caravan made for easy prey.

Hours passed and the snow on the road deepened, but the sun shined bright until it eventually slipped away behind a huge white mountain.  They lost two more horses before the lights of Jackson Settlement appeared on the horizon.  A great cheer went up into starry sky as his men showed their appreciation for reaching home at last.  Daman ached to hold Shana in his arms, and the others had loved ones they missed terribly too.

He lit a signal of red and green fire and waved it high in the air, still seated on his wagon.  Someone on the barrier returned the signal, and as the group neared their homes, the church bells clanged loudly through the cold night.  He’d never had such a reception before, but then again he’d never had such troubles with outcasts on the road before either.  They should’ve returned a week ago, and he hated knowing the whole settlement had likely been worried sick.

The wagons entered the crowded streets and veered off toward different houses and groups of people.  Daman drove straight for the Clayton’s house, where he spotted Shana waiting anxiously on the porch steps beside Charles and Beth.  Shana squealed and ran toward the wagon, and Daman caught her in his arms as he stepped down.  Sobs racked her body and she clung to him so tightly it was difficult to breath.  He hugged her back, murmuring loving phrases into her ear and thanking God the woman he loved more than life itself was safe in his arms.

He felt Charles pat him on the back and heard the wagon take off moments later.  Beth lingered on the porch, hugging a shawl around her shoulders and smiling.  The church bells kept clanging and the whole settlement was awake and wild in the streets, despite the late hour.  The loud noises faded and there was only Shana, all tears and lavender soap and soft skin.  He leaned back to kiss the moisture from her face, tasting her salty tears.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice hoarse and breathless.

“Yes, we all came back in one piece,” he replied, brushing hair out of her face.

“What happened, then?”  Her wide eyes remained anxious, as if she expected him to disappear at any second.

“I’ll tell you about it later.  Let’s go home.”

They passed Charles on the short walk home and Daman thanked him for unhitching the horses and taking care to put the wagon under an overhang behind the workshop.  The supplies could be unpacked tomorrow morning.  Right now there was only one thing Daman wished to do.

Minutes later found him naked in bed next to an equally naked Shana.  The skin to skin contact soothed his soul.  As the church bells continued to clang outside, he told her about the outcasts shooting the horses for meat and how losing so many horses slowed the wagons down, making travel particularly difficult in the snow.

Her forehead crinkled prettily and she sighed.  “That’s never happened before, has it?”

He frowned.  “No it hasn’t.  They have guns now.”  He paused, guessing the next question she would ask – the same question that had persisted in his mind for over a week now.  “We won’t be able to travel that road for quite some time.  That means we’ll need to travel with less and take another route, perhaps to one of the southern trading posts.  Trade changes as circumstances change.  It’s nothing to worry about, my sweet.”

The concern disappeared from her eyes and she melted against him under the covers as the tension left her limbs.  “I’m so happy you’re home.  I’ve missed you, Uncle Daman.”  She grinned and draped a leg over his body, pressing her wet pussy against his thigh.

Daman met her gaze and arched an eyebrow.  “I trust you behaved yourself these past three weeks?”

The light in her eyes dimmed and she stared at his chest.  “Beth tried to convince me to visit the gypsy village with her and Margery, and a few other girls as well.”

He sat up and pulled her into his lap, cradling her like a child.  “Tried to convince you?”

“At first I told Beth and Margery I would think about it, but I was lying to them.”  She gave him a hesitant look, as if judging his reaction.  “I had no intention of joining them, and I tried to talk Beth out of going.  Mr. Clayton overheard Beth talking to me about it and he put a stop to the whole thing.”

The flickering candlelight spread an intermittent orange glow across her face, and Daman studied her for a long minute.  He believed her every word, and he appreciated her honesty.  Better to find out about this incident from her than from Charles.  One part of her story bothered him though.

“If Beth and the rest of the girls hadn’t been found out, would you have gone to Charles before they left?”

Shana took a deep breath and continued to gaze into his eyes, not blinking.  “I don’t know what I would have done.  I was waiting until the last minute to make that decision.”  Her face reddened.  “I was happy Mr. Clayton overheard Beth talking, even though he punished her.”

“As he should.”

“I – I’m so confused.”  Nervousness crept back into Shana’s eyes.

“Why are you confused?”

She looked thoughtful as she glanced around their bedroom.  “I keep thinking about what might’ve happened if Mr. Clayton hadn’t caught Beth.  I can’t swear I would’ve tattled on Beth and the other girls.”

Guilty.  Shana felt guilty.  Daman leaned down and kissed her forehead to assuage her worries.  It pleased him that she had such a healthy conscience, but he didn’t want her to suffer needlessly from internalizing all the what-ifs concerning Beth and the other girls’ plan to visit the gypsies.  Over his knee, he would wipe away every last twinge of her guilt.

“I’m not angry with you, Shana,” he said.  “This is a fuzzy situation, but I’d like to think you would’ve done the right thing and gone to Charles.  Nevertheless, I won’t have you beating yourself up over it and carrying around a heavy burden of guilt.  It’s not good for you.  That’s why I’m going to spank you.”

She drew in a shaky breath.  “I’m to be punished?”

“No,” he said firmly.  “I’m not spanking you to punish you.  I’m spanking you because it’ll help erase your guilt and make you feel better.  Trust me, Shana, it’s for the best.”

The idea must’ve at least made some sense to her, because she nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t be afraid.”  He shifted to the edge of the bed and guided her over his knee.  Wrapping one leg around hers to prevent kicking, he gathered her wrists in one hand and pressed them against the small of her back.  He didn’t always restrain her so, but she hadn’t experienced the sting of a spanking in three weeks.  Her ability to keep calm and behave during a punishment would undoubtedly require a bit of practice.  Shana was his woman to train, and he anticipated the next few days would be spent mostly indoors making up for lost time.

“This will still hurt, Shana,” he warned.  “I’m going to make you cry.”

And he did.  His hand struck her bottom cheeks repeatedly as he painted her flesh a deep red.  He concentrated on the area where her thighs curved into her ass, spanking the most sensitive spot of her backside until her shoulders shuddered and a sob burst from her throat.  She didn’t plead or struggle, but she did cry, and when Daman had finished blistering her bottom with a fast, hard spanking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.

“Do you feel better, my sweet?” he asked, smoothing his hand through her hair.

She sniffled.  “Yes, thank you.  I love you so much.”

The church bells finally ceased clanging, and the abrupt silence added to the serenity of the moment.  An overwhelming warmth surged through Daman’s chest as he cradled Shana’s head over his heart, where he would hold her close forever.

The end.

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This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6