Before sitting down with her in the sunsets, he had waited until the spirits of her dead husband, no longer shouted at her from her heart. It had been two years since; she being somewhere in her thirtieth season, obviously felt comfortable on her own, shunning her own village men, desarately seeking to take John's place. She was very different from the other women in her village. She was at peace inside.
In mild days, she spent her last hours of light outside on a big flat rock, writing her story without pictures. He liked to watch her write. At first she was shy about his evening company; but over time welcomed it - as opposed to even women's company from her village. Very few words passed between them. Often he would build a fire and she would write into the night. A few times he had pretended to fall asleep to see her devious side. She didn't disspoint with her curiousity which included staring at the gaps in his short leather apron.
Often to avert bordom, he would draw in the dirt with a stick. She would look over appreciating his talent for drawing. Pushing his adgenda his pictures took on rather suggestive concepts. She would furtively glance away when she believed him focused on his designs. Leaving them in the dirt each evening, they would be broomed away by daybreak.
But on this humid harvest time evening, she was not outside. Careful not to disturb her, should she be sick and sleeping, he peered through the window and pushing aside cloth that blocked out her remaining daylight he found her in bed alone, but not in her mind.
Once she was assured it was he standing beside her bed she felt the pleasure replaced with terror. His hands on his hips she soon owned guilt that should no more be afforded her than a thristy man, water! He was angry that she didn't approach him with her need. And thus his disapproving look. But her self recrimination ran deeper than his chastisement. She had curled into a ball and was unable to come around. He knew what to do. He had seen their ways. He knew his own.
"Han Nah!" Hannah was afraid his voice boomed throughout the cabin; and up into the chimney; and down into the village. She immediately jumped from her bed tossing the wet cloth covered corn cob under her blanket. She brushed her wild braid behind her head and stood at attention like a young soldier. He left her to guess, then he returned momentarily with his drawing stick which she had carefully leaned against the side of the cabin. He sliced it through the air, speaking of her ridiculous behavior, when she should know despite their language barriers, how he felt about her; and that she needed to loose the penitant attitude of her weak peers. He understood that she was going to physcially hurt for a few days, when finished wither her, but that she would sleep tonight, knowing her perceived inner debts had been paid. He took a deserved breath, having yelled most of that in one!
Her eyes followed the former drawing stick and she visibly gulped. She was wringing her hands before she looked down to see her blouse sticking to her breasts and untied. Averting her eyes for only a second from his face, and the soon-to-be-switch, she foolishly pulled the ends tight to her neck and began to make a bow. She heard the noise before she felt the white hot line across her knuckles. She dropped her hands to her sides and pumped her hands in little fists before using her skirt to hide them in the thinly worn cloth. She gasped at him. Her eyes dilated in the darkened cabin. He responded with more talking about how she was not to let her propriety cover any part of her beautiful body that was deserving of the sun- and moonlight, the breezes and the eyes within the forest.
He moved around her in a half circle as she stayed close to her pallet getting closer and closer with his switch. He spoke too long of the errors of the chiefs in her village. He talked of how he would take her that night back to his own. He'd not allow any child of his to live for a second in this hell hole (even one who had seen only his mother's insides). He caught himself realizing that any punishment coming from him to her had to be finite in its scope. So he calmed himself and backed his thoughts up to her issues. Still nervous she sighed as his thoughts expressed were those that pertained to her. She bit her lip hard when he pulled her outside into the light. She snapped her head hoping no one was about.
Seeing the dead birds by the door, she looked up at him in rushed appreciation. They scale of power was now tipped in his favor (and hers). He walked her to the corner of the cabin closest to the woods. He spread her arms wide and high, slapping each palm on the top of a log, letting her know it should not be removed without his permission. She kept her face forward and rested her forehead against the edge of a log jutting out. Her breathing increased as he bent down to grab the cloth rending it in to up to her waist. Taking out his knife he split open the waist band and watched it puddle at her bare feet. He was silent now thinking well passed her need for punishment. For effect he sliced the switch on each side of her head enjoying her miniature screams behind her closed mouth. He smiled realizing how long it had been since he punished his own long gone wife. It was a beginning and end for them both.
As he marked her skin he was careful to apply the right amount of pressure judging by the raised red lines that were so easy to see on her pale skin. The contrast was as satisfying as the action of his arm moving from right to left and then the opposite. He was careful to pace himself, knowing that she was to be willingly, in returning with him this night. Her breathes drew in deeply and her nostrals flared. Soon she had to gasp through her mouth. Her nails digging into the logs she had to eventually try to cover herself from what she needed. He grunted at her as he repositioned her to one side of the cabin. Her hands, much lower this time. He gently kicked her feet backward so that her lowered arms would be straight as as he caused her to lean like a broken stick, into the cabin, her bottom facing him, her head between her shoulders. She was forced to looked down at the spot where he had drawn the night before. His lewd pictures remained. He smirked at the cause of her need. It would be the last of its kind.
He walked around her enjoying the view. She let out a small pathetic cry, was it because he had stopped? He'd not have her suffer unduly. Focusing on the area where the curve ended he provided her bottom with a warmth the filled his heart. She couldn't help but rise to her toes in hopes of escaping. She whimpered and shook her head back and forth until finally she lowered herself to her knees in disobediance.
Her palms covering her eyes she cried for only a minute or two before she felt his hand stroking the top of her hair. She looked up at him to kiss him. Then thought better of it as she pulled on his emptied hands toward the cabin. But he'd not join her in there. Instead he grabbed her skirt and layed it out on the grass and presented it as her first of many chances to welcome the stars with their joining. He layed down and patted his chest. She didn't undertand and tried to lay beside him. He positioned her on top of him. He guided her arms to support her self above his chest. She felt him beneath her and knew her wetness, from her switching was not in vain. Arching her back above him, she looked at his face while he placed his hands upon her breasts. Teasing her nipples with pressure befitting their previous minutes she groaned until her arms felt weak, distracted by an ancient need. A need that could never be met despite her best and previous attempts this evening.
He kissed her lips which were swollen and red. She found favor in a dance made just for them. The tongues were as two river otters playing at the edge of a shady creek. He reached down between her thighs to find her motions were starting without him. He joined her rhythm bringing her to a halt stunned by the unexpected overwhelming need. He chuckled a little, some evil sound, but reminded her to keep going. She couldn't stay the course. It was as if she were dropped into an unknown place and needed total guidance. He grabbed her hips and retrained her. Her sexual amnesia vanished within seconds as she launched herself as a falcon gliding toward it's prey. He tried to slow her a bit knowing tomorrow she would be raw everywhere, but she would have none of it. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, a tiny shake, or else he would have to spend the whole day fishing while she sat in the river! He tried to say the word in the way that showed its meaning. She whimpered again; it had the same sound as when he had switched her. In lovers anger, showing she wanted to go faster, she tucked her head into his chest and bit tiny bites. He smacked her bottom letting her know she'd not best him on any level. Han Nah would come to a new understanding, of both a lifestyle and a mate worthy of all her needs: Body, mind and spirit.
