Naughty Aunty Helps

He seemed fascinated by her reactions- intrigued when he mixed the pain of a slap or cut of the cane with the pleasure of a kiss or a stroke to her clit.As a woman of her word, she'd normally go along with this- occasionally she'd baulk at what her orgasm denied brain had consented to- then he'd laugh, smile, kiss and cuddle her into trying it anyway, and if that didn’t work then he'd throw her down spread-eagled, tie down her wrists and ankles and start tickling - the stick to his former carrot. She'd be weeping and wracked with laughter- so tickled that her nerves overloaded and it became painful. She'd shriek and scream amongst her tickle-elicited giggles till she couldn’t stand it anymore and did what he wanted. What else could she do? It wasn’t like he was beating her into submission - she couldn't go to the police and say she was being tickled into unwanted sex? But more than that, she didn’t really want to - she did love him, and he cared and provided for her. And he. It was pretty obvious that the wagon hadn't made a pickup in quite some time ... like years? ... maybe.Placing her perfumed handkerchief over her nose and taking very shallow breaths only as often as absolutely necessary, she was peeking in backdoors up the street ... the tannery end ... and down the street ... the stable end when a canvas bag was thrust over her head and the drawstring tightened just enough to stop what little breath she had.It would be exceptionally unfair and a complete distortion of the facts to say... She fell like a ton of bricks. Conversely, it would be a bald-faced lie to say she gently swooned.Eva hit the dirt.Her captors trussed her up like a roasting turkey and tossed her over a packsaddle.The dust of their leaving had no more than settled when the bank erupted. A number shy of dozens ... but a goodly number of rather stalwart and deeply bronzed hinterland sons, daughters, grandsons, granddaughters and even unto the twelfth generation offspring of Damsels.
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