I own half of the best stall on this market and I built that half myself. Everyone in the village knows my name over the awning. Nobody knows what happens behind it.

Ulysses is my partner. He does not argue a dispute. He settles it. Last market day he took me into the supply shed before the awnings went up and had me bare over the storage bench. His hand, until I was scarlet. The claim papers were still lying beside me when he took me there.

That is the shame of it. Not the bench. That I filed the dispute knowing exactly where it would end. He says my name across the pitch and my whole morning goes hot and useless.

Tomorrow he wants me on that bench before the traders arrive. Bared. Bent. His hand until I stop arguing. Then whatever he decides I have earned. The shed wall is one plank thick, half the village will be setting up ten feet away, my trade lives or dies on my name, and I will be there early. What is my standing worth against one morning? What am I if I never walk into that shed again?

A full-length domestic discipline spanking humiliation erotic novel featuring a proud market vendor and the stall partner who corrects her.