Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
But my mistress didn’t ask again. Her eyes went from my face downward. She put her left hand on the belt that stretched across my belly, holding me down to the horrid training chair. She raised the terrifying paddle high, and she brought it down swiftly and with very evident skill.
When the agent had paddled my bottom in the basement of the village house of my village on Kamnos—and even when he had whipped me on my thighs, where I had a good deal less padding than I did on my hind cheeks—the pain had taken a moment to reach me. If any gap of time intervened, between the slap of the leather blade of that barbarian instrument on my newly smooth pussy and the blinding agony that shot through my entire nervous system, I had no awareness of it. Nor could I discern even an instant between the awful torment between my thighs and the full-throated scream I let out in response.
Somewhere, in the far-off sector to which my brain had fled, I understood that as far as a sheer quantity of pain went, the Trestrimarian cunt paddle didn’t hurt as much as the electronic effect the Vionians called the punisher did. The punisher didn’t leave any room for detachment. The instantaneous, unrelenting pain of it overwhelmed my body so completely that even when it went on for seconds, as Agent Delvik had made it do, I couldn’t find the breath to scream.
But from the first lash of the cunt paddle on my pussy, I understood that this agony was, in its own terrible, special way, much worse. Above all, it seemed supremely dreadful because my mistress delivered it to that most sensitive part of my body—the part that to my distress I found myself thinking deserved correction and needed chastisement. That part of me—my pussy, my quim, my cunt—had over and over shown its terrible waywardness, when touched by the fondling hands of those into whose power I had come. Even after, indeed especially after, those hands had punished me, my pussy responded not with defiance but with humiliating, melting submission.
I screamed, and I writhed against the restraints. I had hoped, as I watched Mistress Franla approach with the cunt paddle, that I could demonstrate the strength of my will by holding still. The leather straps binding me to the training chair meant that no struggle would save me from my punishment, and I had supposed, and even felt a bit of confidence, that I would have the fortitude simply to endure the torture, gazing defiantly into my mistress’ eyes when she deigned to turn her gaze on me.
That foolish resolve vanished the moment she brought the paddle down on my pussy the first time. I screamed and sobbed and writhed, tears flowing down my cheeks in continuous rivulets. My first scream became a howl when I saw Mistress Franla raise her arm again, without any pause at all, and bring it down.
I lost all control. I had just peed in the nice bathroom, but I felt my bladder let go after the second lash. I heard a wetness in the slap of the third one that would have heated my cheeks if my body hadn’t already felt feverishly hot from the shame that went along with the agony.
My fists uncurled, and I took desperate hold of the halves of my bottom. The pain from my pussy meant that I barely even noticed the different discomfort that came from my bruised rear cheeks. I pulled them apart, and I felt how shamefully the act exposed me. Mistress Franla looked up, into my eyes. I felt relief rush into my chest. My mistress raised the paddle again, tightened her grip on the belt, and returned her attention to my pussy.
“No!” I cried.
She brought the horrible thing down again, just as hard as the previous lashes. Then she spoke, and I heard her voice clearly somehow despite the screaming, which seemed at this point to emanate from some other requisitioned, auctioned, owned bed girl.
“It’s… very… important… Wetquim,” she said, whipping me all the while so that my body bucked uncontrollably against the chair’s restraints. “That… you… learn… this… lesson… thoroughly.”
By the end of her sentence, to my own surprise, where my consciousness had taken up residence off in the far reaches of the galaxy, I had stopped struggling. Each new lash brought a spasm all the way through my body at the renewal of the terrible, mounting pain, but my limbs no longer strained against the leather straps.
I held my bottom cheeks, spreading them obediently for my mistress. I sobbed quietly at the torment between my legs as I watched her return the cunt paddle to the cabinet and get the depilator again.
“Chalondra,” Mistress Franla said, looking into my eyes, “I’m afraid the real lesson has only just started.”