Shana's Guardian (3 page)

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?”