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“My little concubine was very naughty and earned not only a very hard spanking, but the strap as well. After that, I have a little surprise for her that’s going to leave her sore inside and out and will ensure that she never acts out like this again,” he explained loudly. I was too nervous to focus on anything other than his hands touching my naked skin.
I whimpered softly as his palms kneaded my nervous backside. I found my hips rising to meet his touch and I tried to still my traitorous body, not wanting to accept that this whole shameful display was making me far more sensitive than I cared to admit.
The sound of his hand meeting my backside hard for the first time rang out like a gunshot in the massive room. It reverberated off the walls and I cried out. For a second, I felt nothing but by the time a second one echoed over the audience, I squeaked as the sting burned across my bottom. He’d spanked me earlier today and I thought I could handle this, but this felt much harder and so much worse. This felt like discipline. This was truly a punishment.
His palm cracked down hard on my bottom, over and over, and I struggled to take each one. I squirmed on his lap, but the steel rods in my bodice limited my movement. My skirts served to act as a weight around my waist, helping to pin me to his thighs and ensuring that I couldn’t get away.
As my spanking continued, I drummed my feet against the fl
oor, trying to convince myself to do whatever it took to keep it together during this entire ordeal. I wouldn’t let them see me cry. I’d take my spanking and then it would be over. I wouldn’t let them see him break me, not on display like this.
“You will remain still, concubine. You’ve earned this and you’re going to take every last one,” he warned, and I wailed as he harshly punished the tops of my thighs. His palm felt like steel as he spanked me, igniting a crescendo of fiery pain across the entirety of my backside. He gripped around my waist and turned me slightly, angling my body so that I was perfectly on display for the court.
The crowd roared in approval and I imagined my pale plugged bottom slowly turning pink and then as red as an apple, all while they watched. I was bare and they could see between my thighs. They’d be able to see everything and worst of all, they’d be able to see that my punishment was making me wet.
I moaned, the sound low.
He spanked me harder and I struggled to take it. He varied the smacks all over my bottom and up and down my thighs, ensuring that I felt very much like a well-chastised naughty little girl. It stung like a million bees and the longer it went on, the more worried I became.
The plug hurt and every single time that I tensed in anticipation of the next painful spank, it only felt sorer.
And this was only the beginning of whatever he had in store for me.
I clamped my lips shut, vowing to myself that I wouldn’t let the court and the king hear this how very much was hurting me. I squeezed my eyes shut next, trembling as the spanking increased in intensity. It was almost as though he knew that I was silently fighting him as each smack felt harder than the last. I urged myself to keep quiet. I told myself that I wouldn’t lose my dignity for him or for them.
I tried. I tried so hard. And I was successful until he solely focused on my thighs.
My breath hitched in my throat and the sting raced through me with terrible fervor. I pressed my thighs together at first, not wanting to splay myself even wider for the court to see, but it soon became an effort in futility. I edged forward and twisted my hips back and forth, quickly overwhelmed with the cruel sting that burned across the backs of my legs.
Oh, it hurt. It hurt a lot.
At the same time though, I knew I was even wetter than before. Each time his palm met my ass, I could feel my clit pulse with need. I was sure that wetness was dripping down my inner thighs. Not only that, but I knew I was wet enough to leave a spot on his thighs. I could feel it forming beneath me.
I did everything I could do to stop myself from losing control, but my breath hitched in the back of my throat. My closed-mouth whimpers became more desperate and I tried to keep quiet. His palm was quickly proving to be too much though and when I finally made a sound, the crowd whooped with their approval.
I tried not to think about my red bottom, already aching from the plug and even more sore from his palm, on display for the entire audience. I keened and I moaned, curling my hips and trying to edge away even though there was nowhere for me to go.
I panicked and, in that instant, I knew I was going to cry. I had challenged the king and I had lost, ending up bare bottomed over his knee for a very hard spanking and it hurt.
The first tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another. My moment of panic fled, and my body relaxed over his thighs as I accepted that I had earned this. I cried over his knees and the spanking continued, just as hard as it was before as if he was thoroughly bringing the lesson home so that I wouldn’t forget it.
I knew that I wouldn’t. Not when I had been put on display like this.
Gradually, the spanking began to slow, each smack just as painful as the last. When it finally ended, he dragged his fingernails along my overly sensitized skin and I whimpered softly, the points of his nails feeling sharp and painful, and for some reason, I liked the way it felt.
He rubbed my bottom and I sighed, my tears drying against my cheeks as he massaged some of the pain away.
“Alright, baby girl, it’s time for your strapping,” he said firmly, and I stilled. I had hoped that my punishment was over, that he would take mercy on me for being a good girl for him during my spanking, but I had been naive.
He lifted me from his lap and helped me to stand before him. With a look of sincere appreciation, his gaze lifted to my eyes before they dropped down to take in the crumpled state of my dress.
“You look so beautiful for me, don’t you, baby girl?” he asked, and my heart warmed. His words struck a chord in my heart and I dropped my eyes, feeling myself blush heavily at his compliment, even as one single tear ran down my cheek.
“I expect an answer,” he warned, but there was a certain tenderness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
“Yes, you do,” he replied. “You’re going to look even more beautiful in just another moment when you’re completely naked for me.”
