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I rode, the way as a girl I had ridden a pony at a village celebration, moving my hips up and down, biting my lip and whimpering with every bounce as the knob’s vibrations seemed to spread all the way through my insides. I felt my aching sheath flow with need into the gusset of the lovely lace panties my lord had dressed me in. I looked at the stars, and I felt them gathering inside me until I seemed to have a single sun between my thighs, one about to go nova, to explode, to find its final extinction in a hot burst of glory.
Suddenly, the vibration stopped.
“Wetquim, my dear,” I heard my master’s voice say from behind me, “you’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you?”
My cheeks blazing, I backed away from the bedpost with tiny steps, as if I thought I could hide from his lordship how close I had been standing and what I had been doing. I turned my head and shoulders as much as I could with my wrists still bound to the post, to see my master walking slowly but steadily towards me, holding a handheld that I felt certain must control the secrets of his stateroom bed.
“My lord… master,” I said, the words flowing out of me in a babble as I remembered to lower my eyes to the sumptuous carpet as I addressed him. “I…”
“Look at me, Wetquim,” he commanded, and I obeyed with wide, frightened eyes. “Did your mistress tell you that playing with your little cunny is against the rules?”
He asked the shameful question in a hard voice, his eyes seeming to flash with anger though he nevertheless had a smile on his face. “That part of you belongs to me, just like the rest of you—even more than the rest of you, in a very important sense, because I bought you expressly so I may enjoy myself there.”
“Oh… oh Great…” I gasped, because of the way his deep voice and his handsome face and his gorgeous red robe, belted around his waist but revealing at the top his bare, hairy chest, and above all the meaning of his words… how they all sent a wave of hot, helpless desire crashing through my body. How the wave seemed to start and endthere: the exact place my master had just told me had come into his possession thanks to his wealth and power. My most private place, but no longer mine.
I saw his smile quirk upward.
“No,” he said, with a chuckle. “Don’t say Great Vion. Not anymore.”
I felt my eyes go wide, not understanding.
“If you need to swear on something, from now on,” his lordship told me, his voice suddenly commanding again, “swear on me. You are mine, Chalondra, and you won’t need another power to save you.”
My lips parted, and my chest heaved with the breath part of me intended to use to deny the truth or the sense of the baron’s words, but no sound emerged. My master had come within a meter of me, and I watched him touch a button on the handheld before he put it away in the right pocket of his silken robe. Then he reached into the left pocket, and I let out a little cry when I saw what he was taking out.
A leather paddle, like the one the company agent had used on me.
“And if you call on my name for mercy, as I’m sure you will in a moment, and mercy doesn’t come, you will know that I think you need precisely what you are getting. Now get your little cunt back on that knob.”
I blinked at him for a moment, struggling to catch up with the meaning of his declarations and his command. For another moment, in my terrible fear of the paddle, I thought he must intend to trick me: if I followed his instruction and began again to steal the pleasure of my pussy, he would whip me so hard I couldn’t stand up, would never sit down—he would use the punisher, too, light my whole body up with that horrid, mind-destroying pain. It would come from the knob, too, I felt sure, radiating out through my body: it would be unbearable, and yet my master would make me bear it.
The very thought, though, to my distress made me feel weak in the knees with my need to follow his terribly confusing order. My bottom squirmed shamefully, my hips jerked, and I saw in his lordship’s eyes that he knew exactly what he had done with his words and the simple act of getting the paddle out of his pocket.
“B-but…” I stammered. “But… Master…”
He took a step forward, and my eyes went so wide I felt like I might tear something or dislocate some little bone in my face. He had his left arm out, and I could see precisely what he intended: I tried to dance away but the baron had a catlike speed and agility despite his muscular frame. He grabbed me around my waist, keeping my hips in place a few centimeters away from the bed, my arms twisted painfully by the cuffs on my wrists.
“Master!” I cried. “Please… no…”
But he had already started to spank me with the paddle. Holding me firmly around the waist, with my soaking panties a tiny, aching distance away from the knob, he brought the paddle down over and over.
I shook my head, sobbing, as I tried to understand and knew that truly it went beyond any question of logic or comprehension. I would never fully understand, least of all with the fiery agony the slapping leather sent shooting inward from my paddled bottom.
“Please…” I cried. “Please… Master… let me…”
The thought came into my head without reference to what it would feel like, when I obeyed—the very idea of the pleasure the knob could bring seemed to have fled away completely, chased off by the terrible pain of my whipping. At that moment, with his lordship raining down spanks, saying nothing, his face hidden from me by the sheer closeness of his body as he held me, I only wanted to obey him.
I longed desperately to know why—why a girl who still wanted to have an unbroken spirit, whose mistress had just assured her that she could keep that spirit and her master wouldhelp… why that girl thought that he was absolutely right to whip her until she screamed in agony, for the slightest disobedience… or for no disobedience at all, but simply to demonstrate that she belonged to him, or even just because he liked whipping her.
“Please… let… let…” I sobbed between my shrieks of agony, as his lordship relentlessly turned my bottom cheeks, left completely bare by the tiny panties, into a blazing inferno.
Abruptly, he stopped paddling me. He moved his left arm, seizing my left hip in his huge hand, while his right hand, withthe paddle’s handle still in its grip, took hold of my whipped backside, and pushed me forward until my lace-covered pussy pressed against the knob.
CHAPTER 30
Chalondra
The vibration began the instant the front of my panties made contact with the knob’s smooth surface. My master must have changed something, some setting in the bed, because the buzzing and the pleasure felt much more intense than they had before his arrival. My cry of pain at his grip on my bottom became a cry of helpless, overwhelming need as I felt the device begin to stimulate me down there, more urgently than I had ever experienced before.
