Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
I clung to that mental picture, using it as an anchor in the storm of pain that threatened to overwhelm me. Yes, I told myself through the tears and screams, this is what Gamma wants. This is how I learn to be good for him. The thought didn’t lessen the physical agony, but it gave me something to focus on beyond the burning fire across my bottom.
As my screams subsided into choked sobs, I became aware of the room around me once more. The cool air on my blazing skin, the soft creak of leather as I trembled in my bonds, the hushed silence broken only by my ragged breathing. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room upon me, watching as I quivered and wept in the aftermath of my punishment.
My bottom felt as though it had been set ablaze, each welt a line of fire across my tender flesh. The pain seemed to pulse in time with my racing heart, waves of agony washing over me with each beat. I knew without seeing—seeing instead through Gamma’s eyes—that my pale skin must be crisscrossed with angry red welts, evidence of Dr. Porter’s skill with the cane.
Through my tears, I found myself marveling at the difference between this punishment and those I had endured at the hands of the Vionians. Where they had been cruel for cruelty’s sake, this felt… purposeful. Educational, even. The precision of Dr. Porter’s strokes, the careful positioning of my body, the attentive silence of the witnesses—all of it spoke to a deeper meaning behind the pain.
As I lay there sobbing, I felt gentle hands beginning to unbuckle the restraints. Mrs. Porter’s soothing voice cut through my haze of pain. “There now, Miss Tessara. It’s all over. You’ve taken your punishment very bravely.”
Her words, meant to comfort, only intensified my shame. I hadn’t been brave at all—I had screamed and cried like a child. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks as Mrs. Porter helped me to my feet. My legs trembled beneath me, barely able to support my weight. Every movement sent fresh waves of agony through my bottom, making me whimper pitifully.
Mrs. Porter’s arm around my waist steadied me as she guided me across the room. Each step was agony, the movement causing the welts on my bottom to stretch and burn anew. I kept my eyes downcast, unable to meet the gaze of the assembled men. The thought of Gamma seeing me like this—tearstained, trembling, and utterly humiliated—made me want to sink into the floor and disappear.
As we approached the wall where Elara stood, I risked a glance at my schoolmate. Her freckled face was streaked with tears, her bottom a canvas of angry red welts. The sight made my stomach clench, knowing my own backside must look just as terrible.
“Face the wall, girls,” Mrs. Porter instructed gently. “Hands on your heads, please.”
I turned, pressing my burning forehead against the cool plaster. The position thrust my punished bottom out, putting it on full display for the room. I could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze upon me, examining every welt and stripe. The shame of it was almost worse than the physical pain.
I swallowed hard as I caught another one of those lustful-but-comforting thoughts that seemed to come from Gamma, though now I didn’t feel certain that I hadn’t imagined it to make my ordeal easier. I felt what seemed to be his even greater arousal at the sight of my poor, whipped backside on display next to my schoolmate’s.
CHAPTER 33
Tessara
Distantly, I heard Dr. Porter’s voice. “Miss Lydia, come to the whipping horse, please.”
My heart ached for Lydia, knowing the ordeal that awaited her. Yet a small, shameful part of me was not only relieved that my own punishment was over but, to my distress, was much too interested in seeing—or at least hearing—Lydia get her whipping.
I bit my lip, disgusted with myself for feeling even a hint of pleasure at another’s impending suffering. I also, with a sudden hot blush, felt the governor curb a sharp jolt of arousal between my thighs. I could hardly believe that I could feel that sort of need after my terrible caning by Dr. Porter, but as the agony in my bottom began to dull, the warmth seemed to creep forward into my cunny.
I found myself picturing Gamma yet again, and to my horror hoping the man I loved had his eyes fixed on my punished backside, and that he liked what he saw. I shuddered as I experienced again the strange sensation of feeling I knew his thoughts, even as I felt absolutely certain that my enormous blue guardian wanted, very urgently, to hold me in his arms and to softly fondle my poor, whipped rear.
As I stood there, though, bottom blazing and on display, I began to doubt the feeling, just as suddenly as I had been so certain of it. Had I really sensed his thoughts and feelings from across the room? Was my true master pleased with how I had taken my punishment? Did the sight of my welted flesh actually arouse him that way? The questions swirled in my mind, bringing a fresh wave of turbulent emotions—shame, desire, and a desperate need for his approval.