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Hannah had been listening at the kitchen door. Her heart was thumping so madly that she was nearly in a faint. She didn’t dare look at Daniel’s face, especially into his eyes, or feel the touch of his body close. No! No! She had to push aside the compromising woman and be firm. Stick with her resolution. It was the only right thing! As Mamie turned back to the kitchen, Hannah ran for her bedroom and closed the door tight, then sat on the bed shivering from the chill of her own fears.
“You can’t let him just leave without seeing him, girl,” Mamie argued when she refused to open the door.
“Yes, I can. Please, Mamie, tell him I don’t want to see him.”
“I do a lot of things for my girls but I’m not speaking for you in this one. You speak for yourself. The man’s beside himself with worry.”
Her heartstrings tugged. “I don’t care,” she lied.
“Oh, dammit, Hannah, you do. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t make such a fuss, and you certainly could face him.”
“No, I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not budging.”
The heated exchange rose in volume the longer it went on, its testy tone soon drawing Daniel to the kitchen door where he listened to the banter. Finally he pushed his way into its midst. He nodded at Mamie and she stepped aside.
“Door locked?” he asked quietly.
The woman nodded.
“Hannah, open this door and let me see you.”
The sound of her name spoken in her husbands’ deep baritone shook her like the hands of a scolding parent. But she couldn’t answer.
“Open the door, Hannah. Now!”
Still she was silent.
“You’re acting like a spoiled child, girl.” He was growing impatient.
Still nothing. She sat on the bed, shaking with a cold fear. Her head hurt, she had no voice, her throat was clenched so tight she was sure any reply would come out like a pained squawk .
“I’m not here to punish you, Hannah, but I swear if I have to knock down this door, I’ll blister your ass.”
The threat finally gave her the will to act, and she moved to the door. But instead of opening it, she slumped against it still too frightened of what she would say or do if she had to face Daniel. In a small voice, she spoke through the door, “Daniel, I know what’s right here. Please respect my wishes.”
There was silence on the other side, then she jumped back as she felt a powerful surge of energy, powerful thumps, and then to her dismay, the flimsy lock on the door suddenly broke free.
Angry, Daniel’s determination etched into his face like granite, the man gathered his wife in his arms and hoisted her over his shoulder, turned abruptly toward the front of the house and strode away. The shocked Hannah went from weariness to war in just seconds, hands flailing and feet kicking, while the resolute
man moved from one room to the next, his long strides carrying them rapidly to the front door. By then, the ladies in the rooms above were roused and stumbling down the steps to see what was happening. About ten in all appeared in various forms of dress, from fully clothed to almost nothing at all, wiping the sleep from their eyes to view the unfolding scene with everything from amusement to horror to amazement.
Slung over the shoulder of a strappingly virile fellow was their new house girl, Hannah. Any one of the whores would have been happy to be carried off by this fine looking gent, but Hannah was kicking and screaming with a heretofore-undemonstrated wildness of emotion. She was shrieking, pounding at the man’s broad back with her fists, kicking her legs, and her hair streamed loose, like a native woman’s.
One errant kick caught him in the side. “Ouch! That hurt!” Daniel declared. He tightened his grip, holding her legs down, while she still struggled like a wildcat. “Miss Mamie, you got anything handy I can use to tame this wild woman?”
The woman nodded, then disappeared for only seconds, returning with the well-worn strap that sometimes came in handy with the girls who didn’t know their place.
Daniel nodded in thanks, and twirled his angered wife inside his arms so she was clasped firmly at his side, bottom forward. The first strikes rained down with feverish rapidity overtop her clothes.
Hannah only screamed more vehemently. “Put me down! Now!”
“Shall I bare your behind for all to see?” he asked, pausing briefly.
She wriggled fiercely inside his steely grip, getting no where and only more frustrated.
Yet, there was something satisfactory about the scene in Hannah’s disorientated thoughts. Her husband had every right to do this—in truth, she should have given in without a fight, but the fight was still there. All the emotion that had been hiding in her squelched, denied and hopefully forgotten exploded as the tremendous pain of the spanking triggered that pent-up rage.
“What’ll it be, girl?” her husband barked the question.
