Beta worked methodically, laying stripe after stripe across my bottom. Each one felt worse than the last as the pain accumulated, building into an inferno that consumed all my thoughts. I lost count somewhere around twelve, my mind too overwhelmed to keep track, but Beta corrected me patiently each time.
By the twentieth stroke, I had begun to sob uncontrollably, my whole body shaking. My bottom felt like it had been set ablaze, every nerve ending screaming. But underneath the agony, something else was happening. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny.
I could feel my pussy getting wet.
Each stroke of the cane, each moment of submission, each time I thanked him for my punishment—it all fed into a growing arousal that mortified me even as it intensified. My pussy clenched and released rhythmically, and I knew Beta could see it, could see exactly how my body was responding.
“Your bottom is well marked now,” Beta said, and I heard satisfaction in his voice. “Beautiful red lines that will remind you of this lesson for days. But we’re not finished yet.”
The cane whistled through the air and landed on the back of my right thigh, just below my bottom. I shrieked at the new location, the fresh pain making me buck against my restraints.
“Twenty-one! Thank you, Master!”
He striped my thighs with the same methodical precision he’d used on my bottom. Six strokes on each thigh, placed carefully to maximize the burn without causing real damage. By the time he finished, I could barely speak through my tears, could barely force out the count and thanks he required.
Then he moved to stand in front of me again, and through my blurred vision I saw him studying my face. His expression was stern but not cruel. Firm but not cold.
“Now comes the most important part,” he said quietly. “The part that will teach you the deepest lesson about what it means to be mine.”
My eyes went wide as I realized what he meant. The cunt paddle. He was going to use the cunt paddle on me. I had known it, yes, but I had managed to keep the knowledge at a distance until now.
“No,” I sobbed. “Please, Master, please, not that. I can’t… I can’t take it… Can you… can you whip me there tomorrow… maybe?”
“You will have your cunt whipped,” Beta said with absolute certainty. “Because I have decided to discipline you that way. And because you know you need it, don’t you, Jendra? You need to feel the punishment where you most deserve it. Where all your trouble began.”
He was right. Powers help me, he was right. I did need it. I needed to have my pussy punished, needed to feel that ultimate humiliation and pain in the place that had craved domination so badly I’d summoned a monster.
“Say it,” Beta commanded. “Tell me you need your cunt whipped.”
“I… I need my cunt whipped, Master,” I whispered, the words breaking me even as they freed something inside me. “Please whip my cunt. Please punish me there.”
I watched him move away, out of my sight, and then heard his footsteps behind me. I had traveled so far into my head now that I couldn’t even tell whether I imagined the sound I thought I heard, of the cane being hung back in its place on the horrid rack—and then another, a tiny click, a soft creak, as my new master took down the worst thing of all.
My stomach clenched with renewed terror as I pictured it, the instrument of correction Sala had shown me. The cunt paddle.
My entire backside throbbed with a fierce, burning ache that seemed to pulse with each beat of my racing heart. The stripes across my bottom and thighs felt like they were still being laid down, over and over, the pain refusing to fade even slightly.
Sala appeared at my side, her gentle hands working the restraints that held me bent over the bench. “Come, Jendra,” she said softly. “Let me help you.”
My legs trembled so badly I could barely stand as she guided me upright. The movement made the welts on my bottom and thighs burn with fresh intensity, and I whimpered at the sensation. Sala steadied me, her arm around my waist, as she helped me turn and then carefully lie back on the bench before I could understand what that new posture might mean.
My punished bottom pressed against the smooth, hard slats of the bench’s top, sending jolts of pain through me that made me gasp. Sala arranged me with evident skill, as if she had done this for countless misbehaving concubines. She positioned myshoulders on the bench so that my head hung off one end and my bottom extended just past the other.
I could see Beta. He had turned from the rack to watch Sala place me on my back. My whole body shook as I stared up at my master’s hulking, approaching body. He held the broad leather paddle almost casually in his enormous hand. The triangular blade looked even more terrifying from this angle, and I couldn’t stop trying to imagine how it would feel striking my most intimate flesh.
“Raise your knees,” Beta commanded, his voice firm but not harsh. “Bring them up and hold them open for me.”
A sob tore from my throat as I understood just how open, how exposed, how vulnerable obeying the command would make me. I felt my head shaking, but at the same time I felt my body honoring the terrible vow I had made.
My legs lifted, trembling violently, and my hands moved to grip behind my knees. I pulled them apart, spreading myself completely open before him. The position was mortifying beyond anything I’d ever experienced—even worse than when Omega had made me display myself, because I had chosen obedience. I was offering myself for this atrocious punishment.
Beta moved to stand between my parted thighs, and I found myself looking up at him through the valley created by my raised knees. His blue eyes met mine over the tender, shaven flesh of my pussy, and I saw something in his gaze that made my breath catch despite my terror.
Not cruelty. Not even mere satisfaction at my submission. Something deeper. Something that looked almost like… affection?
“Do you understand why we’re here, Jendra?” he asked, his voice taking on that instructional tone again. “Why a young woman like you must sometimes have her cunt whipped?”
