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The first blow wasn't hard, it was more of a warning tap, but it brought Archie up onto her toes with a squeak. Muscles rigid, she tried to breathe through the sharp sting radiating across her ass, then moaned as sting eased to warmth.
“...I expect you to complete it within that frame. Not one minute after, not two...”
Her fists clenched as a line of fire woke up her nerve endings. A harder strike than the first, an inch above the original one, with less sting and more oh my fucking God. She sucked in a breath, felt her pussy clamp down on emptiness as pain reached cold fingers into every nook and cranny she possessed.
“...Not three and a half. Good little girls learn how to be punctual, one way or another.”
Atticus had a thing about good little girls, she thought a second before he lit her ass up with a third crack of the cane. Her body went into denial, fighting the tsunami of pain rippling outward, and she heard someone making weird sounds in the back of their throat. She flinched as the fingers splayed over her shoulders rubbed the taut muscles; she was wound too tight.
One more. Just one more to go. She could do this, she told herself. Atticus might be a Daddy Dom on a sadism kick, but Jasper was known for dealing out worse. This was just practice, a test to prove she was strong enough to handle her sadist. The only problem was, Atticus knew it was a test too, and so far, he'd pulled his blows. With one more chance to push her to the edge, he wasn't going to be—
There was no warning before the fourth connection of the cane landed directly in the center of her ass, right on her sit spot. Sweat burst from her pores as violently as Archie catapulted upright, dislodging Liam's hand. She managed not to scream, but her shout of distress echoed over the stage and into the club beyond, dying into horrified whimpers.
Her lungs froze, stunned by the magnitude of sensation assaulting her system. Her hands locked onto the side of the bench, her nails leaving crescent-shaped dents in the padding. Soft keening sounds strained her throat, and she didn't dare move in case the wave of agony rose up again.
Fuck, that hurt.
“Back down, Anarchy.” Liam murmured, nudging her shoulder. “You've done well.”
A bubble of laughter started inside her. Done well? She thought she had exceeded her own expectations, actually. She'd survived her first caning. That was more than done well. She tried to take a step back, was brought up short by the ankle cuffs. Laughter made a swift one-eighty, careering into panic in the blink of an eye, fueled by the fire simmering in her lower half.
She heard a quiet clatter, then a wall of heat pressed against her back as she flailed against her leg restraints. An arm banded around her waist, pulling her tender ass back onto the rough denim of Atticus's jeans. She yelped and arched away from him, but he just held onto her. “Quiet down, Anarchy. There's a good girl. I'm pleased with you, little bit.”
Anarchy whimpered.
“You understand why I chose to cane you for this instead of spanking you?” he murmured in her ear. His beard brushed her skin, making her shiver.
She nodded slowly. By her estimation, she'd not only passed the test, but she'd opened a side of herself she didn't know she had. Her thighs were slick with her own juices, released with that last nasty crack of the cane. Apparently her body found pain to be arousing, which was just fine with her. “Yes, Master Atticus. I understand.”
“I knew you would. Now that we've gotten your tardiness out of the way, we can move onto the next stage. Are you ready, little bit?”
Not really. She wanted to rub her poor ass and make sure there were no welts left in Atticus's wake. That last strike felt as though there should be a mountain ridge marring her flesh. She doubted he'd broken the skin or done any lasting damage—he was a careful Master, and she didn't believe he'd employed the full force of his arm for the caning.
“Might as well get it over with, Sir.”
“Good girl. Put your hands on the bench while I release your ankles.” He dropped to a crouch behind her, his hands working at the restraints. He pressed a kiss to the line on her ass that had hurt the most. “Red looks good on your pale skin, Anarchy. Jasper loves an expressive canvas to work with, and this...this is just perfect.”
She blushed fiercely as Loki and Liam smiled knowingly at her from the head of the bench. It was a little unnerving that Atticus thought he needed the help of the two younger masters for her punishment. She'd never seen him ask for help during a scene—punishment or otherwise—in her nine months at Avalon.
Her eyes flicked over the metal poles and attached restraints. Now she was closer, she could see the cuffs weren’t fixed into place. The chains worked on a pulley system, so her arms could be suspended at whatever height was required. Her legs too, she imagined. She'd never seen anything quite like it, wasn't particularly thrilled that she was destined to experience the damn thing.
When her feet were free, Atticus eased her back a couple of steps, then turned her to face him. She swallowed hard before lifting her gaze to meet his warily. “What now, Master Atticus?”
He held his hand out to the side; Liam stepped forward and draped a slip of black material over the outstretched palm, then dropped a small plastic box on top. Unsure about the blindfold, Archie inched back and shook her head, only for Atticus's free hand to curl around her hip. “Relax, little bit. You'll be safe at all times, you have my word.”
The last time she'd let him blindfold her...
Her eyes darted to Liam, then Loki, then back to Atticus. When he reached out to touch her cheek, she stumbled back and squeaked as the bench knocked into the back of her legs and sent her sprawling on the cool surface. The whispers of the crowd mocking her swirled in her head, a constant stream of questions demanding why she wasn't good enough for Jasper.
Anarchy didn't think she'd cope being tied down, blindfolded, with those questions dragging her under. She didn't have the answers, and if Jasper didn't grow some balls and come back to Avalon, she never would. When Atticus sighed, she felt bad for ruining his scene, but she just couldn't put herself through that again.
“Guys, would you give us a moment, please?” Atticus stared down at her as Liam and Loki walked away without comment, disappearing down the steps into the dimness beyond the bright stage lights. When it was just Archie and him in the spotlight, he sank down to his haunches. “Explain, Anarchy. You were absolutely fine with me blindfolding you only a couple weeks ago. What's changed, little bit?”
It struck her that if he just leaned forward a little and she spread her legs a few inches more, her pussy would be fully accessible to his mouth. No, she couldn't let her mind slide into the gutter that way. Instead, she slowly pressed her thighs together so he wouldn't get any ideas. “A lot of things, Sir. I'm sorry, but I don't want to wear it.”
Knowledge flashed in his eyes. Nodding to himself, he tilted his head. “The last time you wore this for me here,” he said quietly, reaching out to stroke her thigh, “your emotions were very raw. Jasper had dropped a bombshell on you, and I was complicating matters. Despite all that,” he tapped his fingers on her knee as though wanting her full attention, “you allowed me to take away your sense of sight and touch you intimately.”
Archie squeezed her eyes shut as heat rushed up into her face.
