by Sue Lyndon
“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 whe
n 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 decisi
ons. 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.
