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"Please, Papa," I babbled. "Please…"
He turned his eyes from where he had been gazing appreciatively at the awful mess I had made on the dark green carpet, and I somehow knew from the expression on his face what he had truly meant: that he didn't intend this punishment to recreate those of the benighted past.
The warmth in my chest at that realization got driven away a moment later, though, as Papa Bear's face turned darker. To either side of him, Mama Bear and Baby Bear wore similar frowns. My heart quailed and my eyes went wide as I realized I had just disobeyed the colonel's earlier command.
"Eyes front, Susanna," he thundered, and raised the cane, and brought it down.
I started my scream, in terror, just at the sight of the colonel delivering the lash: the way he turned his attention from my face to my poor bare bottom and focused with cold precision as, at the same time, he started to move the horrible length of rattan downward through the air. I could hardly hear the swish, but the crack cut through my wailing, and then my body jerked hard in agony. I could tell immediately that the cane had caught one of the earlier welts, and the pain stopped my scream because it took my breath away.
The searing lash had stopped the action of my bladder for a moment, but my face glowed as I felt the stream, weaker now, start again. The humiliating rushing sound, and the even more mortifying noise as the pee hit the carpet, filled my ears.
I hadn't even had time to obey my new Papa and turn back around before he had struck me so savagely. His eyes returned to mine, so I saw his stern expression before I finally started to bring my face forwards, closing my eyes at the same time to block it all out of my vision. I felt the tears flood out from behind my eyelids, and I let out a wrenching sob as I hung my head.
Then he said the thing I dreaded the most. "That stroke didn't count, Your Royal Highness, I'm afraid. No extra for peeing yourself on the horse, but disobedience must be punished."
The unexpectedly formal tone Papa Bear adopted made me reflect, even in my agony, on the expression that had occupied his face, after he had given me the extra lash and brought his gaze back to meet mine. It had caused, even in the midst of the terrible pain that made my backside burn like a supernova, another little stab of liking for him.
More unexpectedly, though, I realized that I had seen in the colonel's eyes a seriousness that seemed to come from a different place than I would have supposed. That firmness of purpose didn't have so much to do with avenging the harm my misbehavior had done, or even some general, principled satisfaction this military man took in punishing naughty girls — let alone with the evident sexual pleasure he took in having taken me as a captive fuck toy for himself and his comrades.
Papa Bear's eyes had said that he wanted to make certain what he did to my ass produced the results he sought in my behavior. Not just my behavior, either: in my life. My new Papa cared about me.
A wrenching sob heaved its way out of my chest.
"Raise your head," the colonel's deep voice said. "Look in the mirror. Look at the people whose home you broke into."
I kept my eyes closed as I lifted my head. The tears flowed freely. I squeezed the lids even more tightly shut for a second, and then I opened them. I saw that the master sergeant had gotten a towel as the major had ordered. I whimpered, my hips jerking, as he dried me with it between my thighs. I felt a few final drops of pee flow into the towel, and a new heat burned my cheeks.
As Baby Bear started to blot the slightly darker spot I'd made on the dark green carpet, I saw the major looking back at me in the mirror, her eyes narrow. I shuddered at the little smile on her lips, my gaze traveling down to the way she held the huge plastic phallus of her strap-on idly in her left hand.
When I focused on Papa Bear, his eyes locked with mine. As I watched, his right hand, with the cane in it, moved towards my backside. I felt my forehead crease and I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Seeing it happen in the mirror brought back the feeling of detachment, so strongly I really did wonder if the ass the naked colonel was about to touch actually belonged to me. I hoped it did, and I feared it did, and then I felt his fingers not on my bottom, tracing the terrible marks of the cane, but on my pussy.
He stroked lightly, and I moaned softly. The stiff length of the cane was up against my punished bottom. The colonel's fingertips rubbed up and down my tingling private lips, lingering on the place where my clit lay shyly hidden despite all my shamelessness. The rattan moved a little bit with the motions of my Papa's hand, pressing against a welt, and my whole body shook at the mixture of pain and need.
His dark eyes, reflected in the mirror, looked into mine the whole time, his lips curved slightly upward and his brow set as he concentrated. He seemed to read every flicker of emotion and sensation that crossed my own face.
In the periphery of the scene in the mirror, Baby Bear had finished, leaving the towel on the carpet.
For me, I thought with a helpless sob of shame and need. For me to clean up my mess.
Papa Bear took his hand away. He raised his arm, and then he looked down again. I didn't scream in fear this time, as I watched him whip me. I just let out a pitiful, mournful little sigh, and I closed my eyes and hung my head. Then I cried out, after the swish and the crack.
"That's four, Susanna," he said. "You'll count them from this point on, and thank me for each one."
I felt the shift of his hand on the belt that meant he had raised his arm once again.
"Oh, no," I sobbed, but I heard it again, and I felt it again, and I strained to arch my back despite the belt that pinned me in place for my terrible lesson.
"How many, you little slut?" the major asked, coldly.
"Five," I choked out.
"Five, Papa, thank you," the master sergeant corrected.
"Oh, God," I sobbed, because a new wave of pain seemed to wash through me at the thought of expressing gratitude for this ordeal. Then, because I felt the colonel's hand shift again, I babbled, "Five, Papa, thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
CHAPTER 14
Goldilocks
