Shana's Guardian

by Sue Lyndon

  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 every
thing 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?”