“Two,” Beta said, and I thought I heard approval in his voice.
Tears streamed down my face in earnest now. My hands gripped my knees so hard I thought I might leave bruises, but I held myself open. Held myself in position for the final stroke.
“Last one,” Beta said, and there was definitely warmth in his tone now. “You’re being very brave, Jendra. Very obedient.”
The third strike landed, and this time I felt it everywhere. In my clit, in my lips, deep inside where my virgin sheath waited for him. The pain crashed over me in waves, and I sobbed so hard I could barely breathe.
But underneath the agony, something else stirred. Something that terrified and thrilled me in equal measure.
My pussy clenched hard, and I felt fresh moisture gathering despite—no, obviously,because of—the punishment. The shame of it made me cry harder, but I couldn’t deny what my body was telling me.
“Three,” Beta said quietly, setting the paddle aside. “It’s done.”
Sala’s hands helped me lower my legs slowly, and the movement made my punished pussy… my punishedcunt…throb with renewed intensity. Every part of me ached—my bottom and thighs from the cane, my pussy from the horrible, special paddle, my shoulders from holding my position.
“You did beautifully,” Sala whispered, helping me sit up carefully. The moment my punished bottom made contact withthe bench, I gasped at the pain, but she steadied me. “So brave. So good.”
She pulled me into an embrace, and I collapsed against her, sobbing into her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around me, holding me as I shook with the aftermath of everything I’d just endured.
“There, there,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “The worst is over now. You survived it. You submitted so perfectly.”
I clung to her, desperately needing the comfort of another woman’s touch after such brutal punishment. She held me until my sobs began to subside, until I could breathe somewhat normally again.
Finally, she pulled back and looked into my eyes. “I have to go now,” she said gently. “Alpha is waiting for me. But you’re in good hands with Beta. He’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you,” I managed to whisper, my voice hoarse from screaming and crying.
Sala kissed my forehead tenderly, then stood and walked toward the door. I watched her go, feeling suddenly very alone with my new master.
Then Beta was there, his strong arms sliding under me, lifting me as easily as if I weighed nothing. I gasped as the movement jostled my punished flesh, but he held me carefully against his broad chest.
“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable,” he said, carrying me out of the discipline room.
We passed through the living area and into the bedroom. It was even more luxurious than I’d thought if from my glimpse earlier—a massive bed dominated the space, covered in soft fabrics that looked impossibly inviting. And there, just as he’d warned me, were the mirrors. Large ones, positioned on the walls and even on the ceiling so that… so that someone on the bed could see themselves from multiple angles.
My breath caught as I realized what that meant. What he would indeed make me watch.
But Beta didn’t take me straight to the bed. Instead, he carried me to stand right in front of one of the mirrors—this one taking up most of one wall. He set me down carefully, my feet touching the soothingly cool floor of textured stone, maintained I felt sure at the optimal temperature for comfort. My master positioned himself behind me.
“Look,” he commanded softly.
I raised my eyes to the mirror and gasped at what I saw.
My face was flushed and tearstained, my eyes red from crying. My hair was disheveled, falling around my shoulders in tangles. Down below, where the sight of my bare cleft brought heat to my cheeks, there was a pink hue that almost seemed to glow, from the cunt paddle’s terrible lesson.
Gently, with his hands on my shoulders, Beta turned me, as I watched the revelation in the mirror, mesmerized. I turned my face to look over my shoulder, until at last I saw it: the place where my master had told me a girl like me needed to feel the correction of the man responsible for her.
My poor little bottom.
The cane had left its mark exactly as Beta had promised. Parallel red lines striped my rear cheeks and thighs, some alreadydarkening to purple. The welts stood out starkly against my pale skin, a visible testament to what I’d just endured.
“Beautiful,” Beta murmured from behind me, and I felt his hands settle on my hips. The twisting position made the welts burn, but I couldn’t look away. I’d been marked. Thoroughly, completely marked as his.
Beta reached for something on a nearby table—a jar of cream. He opened it, and the scent of something soothing filled the air.
“Watch,” he said, and I kept my eyes fixed on the mirror as his large hand, now coated with the cream, approached my punished flesh.
The first touch made me gasp. The cream was cool against my burning skin, and Beta’s fingers were gentle as he began to work the cream into the welts. Despite the care he took, each touch made me gasp at the mixture of pain and relief. The burn of the stripes seemed to intensify for a moment before the cooling properties of the cream began to take effect.
