“What do you think?” I asked.
“Your collection is quite… comprehensive,” he said on a breathy exhale.
I smirked. What could I say? I liked to experiment. “It can be tailored to your likes, or in the case of punishment, dislikes. I won’t ever do something you’ve not consented to.”
“That’s good.” He rubbed his hands together. Nervous, despite my attempts to reassure him.
“Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“I’m not sure. Ask me again in an hour or two. Is that how long it will take?”
“That’s entirely up to you,” I said.
“So cryptic, my lord. Will you spank me?” He smoothed one hand over a bench meant for that and other things. Instinct told me the prince would enjoy being spanked a little too much for it to be considered a true punishment.
“I’m not going to spank you, Cedrych, but I am going to flog you.” I’d decided that morning while the prince still slumbered in my arms. Something sturdy that would leave a lingering ache as a reminder of his disobedience. It would be uncomfortable to sit for a few days, a rather light punishment for endangering his life.
I selected my instrument, a rawhide whip with nine falls, each one knotted in three places for more impact. “Have you seen one of these before?” I asked, presenting it to him.
“No, sir.”
“It’s called a cat o’ nine tails. Humans used it on their naval ships to keep the men and boys in line. The original implement was rather simple, a rope that had been unraveled. They’d lash the offender to the rigging and use this whip to strip the flesh from their backs. Sometimes they’d put salt in the wounds to make it even more painful.”
“Sounds terrible,” he said, looking queasy.
“I won’t be that harsh. I won’t even break the skin if I can help it, but it will be painful, and the ache will last for days after.”
“Days?” he said.
I drew the falls through my hand, slowly, methodically, getting into the zone. “You deserve this punishment, Cedrych.You completely disregarded my security protocol, and you put yourself in danger. And it was not your first offense.”
“What will you do if I break protocol again?” he asked.
“Something worse,” I assured him. I placed the flogger in his hands. “Touch it, become acquainted.” He dragged the falls along the muscle of his forearm and I took a deep breath, feeling the first stirrings of arousal.
“Why don’t you test it against your skin?” I suggested. He slapped his arm lightly. “That’s it. Now, harder,” I encouraged.
He gave himself a good, hard thwack, and I imagined sometime in the future, stripping him naked and making him punish himself while I watched. The prince would require a firm hand, no doubt. He swallowed and stared hypnotically at the red marks left behind.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“How many will you give me?” he said.
“How many do you think you deserve?”
“I don’t know. Probably a lot.”
I smiled at that. “How about I whip you until I think you’re sorry?”
“Who says I’m not?” he asked with a princely defiance that made his submission all the more rewarding.
“You said you were sorry you scared me, and I believe you. But I don’t think you’re sorry for going after the assassin.”
“I’m also not sorry for saving your life,” he said brashly, digging his own grave.
“Anything else you’d like to confess?”
Seeming to realize his misstep, he said, quite contritely, “No, sir.”
