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She looked down at her bare feet as the phantom pain of her previous discipline spread warmth over her buttocks. She nodded solemnly, her chest filling with excitement, even as her eyes began to water from the promised sting of her punishment. Three. Her mind turned the number over and over again as her legs trembled.
Torian rounded the table and stepped behind her.
His heavy hand on the small of her back sent a delicious shiver racing up to the base of her neck. She heard the rod extend. A moment later she heard its soft whistle through the air. The sting shot across her flesh, sharp and hot, before throbbing away in attenuating waves.
“I take no pleasure in cruelty,” he said. The rod lifted, whistled, and snapped against her soft skin. “Three strikes of blatant disobedience.” Lift, whistle, snap. “I think this will be a suitable penance.”
The sting of the third correction took the breath out of her lungs and made her eyes overflow. The full, warm tears splashed onto her cheeks, and she bit into her lower lip. The cool feeling that she now recognized as humiliation twisted in her chest, before snaking to her lower abdomen, and curling up as an ache between her legs.
She breathed a sigh of relief, starting to enjoy the afterglow of her punishment. Whereas it had been new to her before, it was becoming familiar: heat and stinging pulsed where the rod had smacked her skin. Each pulse brought her humiliation to a boil before ebbing away into a craving. As if they had rehearsed this thousands of times, her body began to expect what had happened before: now would come the tender play, bringing her to beg for him to give her the sweet release she’d felt before.
He surprised her, though, by speaking instead of walking toward her to touch her stinging skin. “As for taking the plug out…” The rod sliced through the air and landed with surgical precision on the softest part of her bottom cheek, the tender crease, where the hot sting merged with the sensitive ticklishness and made pleasure roll down her thigh muscles and crawl into her sex.
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers curled on the table, nails digging into the soft surface.
“I have a different idea for how to deal with that infraction,” Torian said. He set the rod down on the table with a gentle clack. As he walked to where Quaia could see him, she pushed against the table to stand. “Stay,” he ordered. He gazed at her as he rolled one of his sleeves up his arm.
Her eyes moved between him and the table, unable to hold his stare for long. Her skin was burning hot. The space between her legs had become sodden. While puzzled by the reaction, she could not find its source. Something about Torian disciplining her made her hot. She wanted him to touch her again, to spell her forgiveness out for her by strumming her tenderest flesh to another volcanic eruption.
It made no sense, and it defied everything she had thought about her own nature, but she still craved it.
“You are aroused again,” he mused, rolling up the other sleeve. “Your scent fills the space.”
She hung her head lower. So much for avoiding humiliation. Hot shame made her cheeks flush. She forced herself to think about the last time she’d seen him. How he’d sent her away like he was dismissing a pupil or a prisoner. She tried to remember the sting of that rejection. Being in his presence again made it all but impossible.
“Now. Do you think that punishment will serve as a sufficient reminder to do as I say?” he asked.
She nodded, still staring at the table in front of her. She drew in a sharp breath when he put a finger on her chin and turned her head to look at him.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“I—it will,” she stammered.
“Good. As for removing the stretching device from your back hole…” He trailed off and furrowed his brow, pensive. Brought a finger to his mouth and tapped his lips three times. After a long silence that began to turn uncomfortable, he straightened and stood up tall again. “Close your legs and turn to face me,” he ordered.
She did what he asked. Pushing back off the table, she turned toward him, fingers fumbling with the elastic of her pants in the hopes he’d finally let her pull them up and cover herself.
“No,” he said, pointing at her hands. “Leave those as they are.”
She let go of the material, shaken by an internal excitement that gripped her.
He moved toward her and reached for the bottom of her shirt with both hands, lifting it over her head. Her breasts came tumbling out as he raised it past them. His hands moved down her body, fingers sliding over her back and her ribs, sparking a ticklish response that would have made her laugh if not for the seriousness of the situation. Instead, she trembled in his hands and goosebumps traveled over her skin.
His hands moved lower, and then over the fresh welts on her bottom, as he lowered his own body in a crouch. She became absorbed in his caress, her eyes falling closed as he slid the pants down, past her knees. His breath was hot and filtered into the thatch of her pubic hair, and she believed for a moment that his lips would touch her there. Instead, she heard the soft thump of her pants falling to her ankles, and then his hands were withdrawn from her skin, making her eyes flutter open.
He took a step back, his eyes raking down her body.
Instead of turning her gaze, she eyed him like a hawk hunting its prey. Her heart fluttered when his gaze paused at her chest, then dropped to her exposed womanhood. She tried to resist it but found herself consumed by the heat it brought between her legs as he inspected her. Against her own advice to herself, she found herself wanting him to approve of what he saw, to reach out to touch her tenderly.
He stepped around her and toward the exit.
She heard the hatch slide open and her face began to burn hotter. What in the Seven Suns was he going to make her do next? Would he invite an audience to share in her shame? Her stomach twisted with a new, cool sensation.
“Follow me, please,” he instructed.
Her stomach sank. Slowly she turned to face him. When two guards walked past the room and turned their heads, she gasped. They stared at her wide-eyed for what felt like an eternity. When they finally noticed Torian they quickly shuffled off down the gangway. “You can’t be serious,” she said in a whisper.
“I do not play games,” he replied. Took three steps toward her. “You will learn to obey my orders precisely. You are experiencing shame now, yes?” he asked.
