The Humiliation of Hannah

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

Hannah was a bedraggled sweaty mess. At one point on that hot night, she’d been so tired after walking miles upon miles that she lain down beneath a tree and napped—she had no idea how long, although it was still dark when she awakened. By then, her hair was stringy and her dress dirty and torn from a sudden fall she’d taken some hours before. It had been a long night and a futile search for her brother, Beau. Damn him! She silently swore. The brash little tart, Millie Peacock, led her on a wild goose chase. Hannah almost believed it was a deliberate ploy to keep her from finding her delinquent brother. Now facing home, she wiped her brow and trudged the last few hundred yards from the road to the white frame house where she and Daniel lived. It was just before dawn and the sky was becoming brilliant with the ethereal glow of a new sunrise. Somewhere she heard a c**k crow, and looking toward the house, she noticed a trail of smoke curling from the chimney. Perhaps Jolie had lit a fire. Daniel wouldn’t be home; he’d left the morning before to check his traps on the high ridge and wouldn’t be back for at least two days.

Hannah had no intention of telling her husband about the impromptu excursion when he did come home. The less he heard about Beau and his shenanigans the better for them both. All she could think of now was washing her hands and face and dropping into bed for a long sleep. Gazing downward with unseeing eyes, she wearily put one foot in front of the other, and on reaching the fence she pushed forward the swinging gate that opened into the yard. On looking up, she immediately stopped short, her eyes barely believing what she saw.

Daniel! Yes, it was Daniel standing on the porch, hands on his hips, watching her. Her body immediately leapt with the desire to run to him for comport, but then the impulse quickly passed and her heart sank when she realized what this meant. A painful jolt of shame made her blush long before she reached the porch. When she did, she looked up into her husband’s coal-colored eyes.

“You’re home, sir?”

“I guess I am.” He coolly appraised her, saying nothing for an interminable period. Then he finally broke the terrible silence. “Do I dare ask why my wife is not at home in bed where all good wives should be at such an hour?”

“Oh, it’s such a terrible story, Daniel, and I am so sorry. You must have been so worried.”

The firm set of his jaw said it all. He was a tall, lean and muscular man, with sharp clear features, dark, longish hair, and skin the color of copper. There was native Indian in his blood, and Irish and Welsh and some French. He had a keen eye, a strength that made her strong and a passionate love for her that warmed her soul. But he was also a no nonsense man, and for deliberately defying his wishes, she knew with little doubt the price she’d pay.

“Does the story begin with Beau?” he asked, his voice hardening.

Her blush deepened. “Yes, sir, it does.” She stared him in the eye. A falsehood at this point would only double her punishment. “I can explain, sir…” she rushed on.

But he cut her off, saying grimly, “After you’ve taken a turn in the woodshed, wife.” She could feel his anger and indignation boiling beneath his surface calm. Her body fluttered wildly in reply, as if it actually loved that righteous rage and even what it would do to her in the next half hour. She watched as Daniel moved back into the house—he’d be retrieving his razor strop. Before he reappeared, she abruptly turned, gathered her skirt in her fists and moved, head down, toward the woodshed on the far side of the yard. Daniel always said he liked to separate the punishment from the rest of their marriage, from what happened inside the house where their love was more affectionately expressed.

Although she moved swiftly, Daniel was only a stride behind her by the time she reached the shed door.

“Please, sir, won’t you let me explain?” she turned about abruptly and confronted him with a pair of begging eyes, which were now lustrous and wet with tears. The tension between them seemed to explode.

“Not as angry as I am, wife. If you need to explain, you’ll get your chance. Right now, you can bend over and bare your ass; show me how sorry you really are.”

The words ripped through her body like the strike of lightning. So weary, so utterly weary after just an hour or two of restless sleep, she felt strangely faint with the reality of the situation becoming clear to her. She so desperately wanted some mercy now, and fraught with despair, for one very brief moment the fire in her flashed as the heat of the moment obliged her desire to fight him.

“And what if I’m not prepared to bare myself for you, sir?” she took a deep breath, renewing herself. Her eyes danced with a fiery, defiant glow.

Daniel’s anger engaged the instant his gaze met her impudent stare. He resisted the urge to slap her face for such insolence. He was not a brutal man, given to reckless displays of anger. But he was not so self-controlled that he didn’t respond. He swiftly grabbed her by the arm and in one sure and steady movement he had her captured under his one arm and her bottom perfectly poised for spanking. Daniel struck her with his open palm, again and again, spanking her bottom with sharp smacks that scorched her bottom and stung the air with a reverberating sound that seemed to shake the flimsy woodshed walls.

Even with the protection of her thin summer skirt, Hannah could feel the heat and the sting mount at a vicious rate. The pain made her struggle more. Oh, he’ll work for it! she silently vowed. And yet, Daniel was so much stronger, so much more determined than she was, that her spirit quickly weakened. The truth came crashing down about her tired soul. She was no match for him. He would not quit; he never quit … not until he won the battle.

“Please, Daniel!” Her small cry was so filled with sincere anguish that Daniel abruptly stopped the spanking and set her on her feet.

“Through defying me, Hannah?” he asked.

She knew he’d only start all over again should she dare oppose him.

She breathed heavily, fighting off her fierce emotions. Staring back at her was the face of a resolute man who loved her with his whole heart, and on this matter was unbending. The only way she could answer his question was to do as she’d been ordered to do in the first place. Torn, exhausted and in tears, she finally turned about and bent over a waist-high pile of freshly split wood. Reaching for the hem of her skirt, she drew it up over her bottom and prepared to lower her underclothes. But before she could finish, Daniel reached in and tore away the last remaining garment between him and her bare behind.

This was more than simple justice, more than the right of a man to discipline a disobedient wife. A fire for this brand of passion brewed strongly in them both. It was basic to their make-up. It was elemental and s****l, as if it were an act ordained by the powers that ruled the heavens. It was the one way the two could find peace with each other in the midst of such a crisis. With a few notable exceptions, the rest of the world had little clue that their relationship required these moments; this was their secret. For those very necessary times, Daniel Crowe blistering his wife’s beautiful ass with the cruel blows of a razor strop was the best perhaps the only way to set things right.

Daniel backed up, viewing the target of Hannah’s proffered cheeks with both lust and purpose. He thought of Beau—the thorn in his side—and how the boy had twisted his wife’s world with his reckless behavior. It was as much Beau’s behind he’d like to be thrashing today. But for now, Beau was nowhere to be found and his wife would pay the price.

With the doubled leather strap clutched firmly in his hand, he reared back and let the first of many blows strike her twin pink cheeks. The earlier spanking would pale in comparison to the punishment she’d now receive. The leather struck, her body jolted, and the round globes jiggled from the impact. In seconds a thick red line of red appeared across her naked flesh.

He struck her ass again.

And again.

And again.

The smacks were intended to hurt, intended to resoundingly deliver a message she could understand no other way. Each harsh strike deepened the color of her bottom from rosy pink to a heated scarlet. Daniel paused only long enough so they could catch their breath, then he started in again. With the second round of punishment, he dropped his aim to apply the hurt to the back of her tender thighs, and the base of her bottom which would easily bruise.

Hannah reacted to each blow, struggling as if she were bound and unable to escape, resisting but not resisting, fighting the pain but not fighting enough to bolt the woodshed—she would not face the consequences that would result. She hated every blow, but gritted her teeth against the string of epithets that threatened to spew from her mouth. She clenched one moment, then made every effort to relax the next, all the while praying for all she was worth that Daniel would grant her some degree of mercy and end the terrible strapping.

Once Daniel’s anger had vented, the blows came less often and with less force. As had happened in the past, Hannah found some strange satisfaction in the warmth that followed. A s****l fire in her flamed and quickly built to a furious peak, producing wildly crazy sensations in places far beyond the skin of her ass end. Her tears flowed and she moaned with hate and love so mixed up inside each other that she didn’t know what she honestly wanted.

Then suddenly, the blows stopped.

The razor strop clattered to the floor.

Suddenly Daniel’s arms surrounded his wife and he pulled her upright and clutched her close. Her raw bottom rubbed against the rough exterior of his pants, but she didn’t mind this. His hands grabbed for her breasts and caressed them coarsely, as the crude man in town had done. This time it was appropriate for her respond.

“Oh, Daniel, I am so sorry; I am; you must believe me,” she said. She laid her head back against his chest and writhed erotically inside his arms.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you disobeyed me just to enjoy the aftermath.”

His fingers moved tenderly across her face, and her tongue and mouth made love to them. She felt his organ harden against her raw behind, throbbing there with the effect of making her wanton lust explode and her thighs naturally part in expectation. She ground her bottom into his groin invitingly. Her attempts to appease her husband’s wrath were hardly veiled.

The invitation was accepted without comment, and in the silence of the early morning, as the c**k crowed again, Daniel bent her back over the rough woodpile and plunged his aching erection into the deep valley of her crotch.

“Oh, dear God, yes!” she cried as the first thrust speared her inner body. All her previous woe seemed forgotten now.

Daniel grunted while holding on to her hips and plunging with the same ruthless determination that he’d just wounded her ass. Looking down, he saw her bruised behind. The fiery color had faded, leaving red striations in the flesh and rising bruises that would linger some days. It had been a good beating, a start, he thought, feeling righteously pleased, and one she was sure to remember the next time she dared to defy his wishes. And this now, this was right as well to appease another need.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, my love!” Hannah cried, with her body on the verge of a sweet explosion. Tears of joy she’d been holding back came streaming down her cheeks. Her spirit softened, her rage was gone, the fight in her vanished as if it never existed. There was only room left in her for love and s*x and the sumptuous aftermath their spirits yearned for. She could feel the crest about to take her when Daniel came in her with a cry on his lips. He held her firm to him, one hand clutching her hip, the other hand threaded through her hair as his member spewed the warm gushing c*m.