Sala helped me up from Beta’s lap, and I stood on trembling legs. “Ordinarily,” she said gently, “it would be time for you to receive your master’s penis in your cunt, and then in your anus, to begin your training as his bed girl. But as you know, Jendra, you have a real punishment coming first.”
My stomach dropped.
Sala took my hand and led me across the room to another piece of furniture I’d noticed earlier—a strange, apparently very old-fashioned sort of bench.A whipping bench, my mind whispered as if I had discovered the knowledge in an ancient book. Wooden, with leather restraints and a curved surface designed to present the subject’s bottom and intimate areas completely.
“Lie down,” Beta instructed.
I climbed onto the bench with shaking limbs. The wood was cool against my stomach and breasts. Beta moved efficiently, securing my wrists to the front restraints, then my knees to supports that spread my legs wide. A strap went around my waist, holding me firmly in place.
Tears were already streaming down my face before he’d even picked up an implement. But this felt completely different from obeying Omega. Then, I’d had no choice—he’d controlled my body through our bond. Now, I was choosing this. Somehow, from somewhere I didn’t understand, I was finding the courage to submit to this punishment because I knew I needed it.
Because I knew Beta wouldn’t destroy me. He would hurt me, yes—but only as much as I needed to be hurt.
I heard his footsteps as he moved to the rack of implements. My whole body tensed, waiting to discover which one he would choose. I heard his tread again, approaching from behind, and then he moved around to stand in front of me. My eyes went to his hands immediately, and my breath caught when I saw what he held.
The cane.
That long, thin implement I’d seen on the rack. Up close, it looked even more terrifying—flexible but rigid, polished to a shine that caught the light as Beta turned it slowly in his hands. He held it up so I could see it clearly, displaying it with an almost reverent care.
“Do you know what this is, Jendra?” he asked, his voice taking on an instructional tone that somehow made the moment even more real.
“A… a cane, Master,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with fear.
“Yes. But it’s more than that.” Beta ran one finger along its length, and I trembled at the gesture. “This particular implement has a special place in the history to which we Magisterians look for inspiration. Victorian England—a time when discipline was understood as an essential component ofproper education, especially for young women who struggled with their natural submissive needs.”
