Shana's Guardian (4 page)

“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.