“And I have certain principles to which I must adhere. I can’t just go giving in to my base desires.”
“Just this once…”
“Especially with an ensign. It’s an abuse of power. An abuse of privilege.”
“I want you to abuse your power. I will do anything if you’ll just abuse your power, just today, just this once, please.”
“Then ask me for it. There must be no ambiguity at all. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Please whip me, Sir. Please tie me to this thing and whip me hard.”
“All right,” he whispered, bending to strap her legs to the post. “I can do that.”
Suka could hear the roar of the phantom crowd as her wrists and waist were firmly secured. Probably in Paladian practice her bottom would be bared, bu
t Commander Paul did not go so far as that, leaving the thin, skin-tight trousers in position—not that their super-lightweight microfibres would afford much protection.
She tried to regulate her breathing, but the sound of Paul’s boots pacing up and down the platform behind her was making her pussy convulse and her hips squirm and writhe against their bonds. Oh, please, get on with it, she pleaded silently, but at the same time, the way he drew out the anticipation was so deliciously cruel she found herself getting even hotter.
“So then, Ensign,” he said gently, and Suka felt the faint tickle of those leather strands travelling across her bottom, making her squeak. “We have issues to address, don’t we?”
“Yes, Sir,” she exhaled.
“Disobedience will not be tolerated in my service. I am going to show you what your petty rebellions have earned you. I hope the lesson will be learned. Ready?”
“Yes, Sir.”
The maddening tickles withdrew and there was a moment of pure tension before the air sang with the sound of flying leather then a starburst of heated sting lit up Suka’s behind.
“Ahh,” she cried brokenly, finding the sensation at once better and worse than her imagination had prepared her for. She worked hard on processing and assessing it, letting the burn sink into her skin before she came to her final conclusion.
Paul held back. “Yes?” he murmured. “More?”
She nodded. “Please. More.”
Then he did not hold back. The lash fell again and again on Suka’s tautly-clothed rear, opening the door of the chamber she had considered forbidden for so long, letting her sensual self out of its prison. Simultaneously she blessed and cursed Paul’s strength, stamina and disciplinarian determination. He left no portion of her bottom or thighs unscathed, whipping the strands with expert precision from the crest of her buttocks to the tops of her knees, searing the tender skin until Suka feared it might crack, so tight and swollen did it feel.
As the lash fell, so did Suka, into a maelstrom of passionate submission from which she was not sure she could ever emerge. This was life now, this was her—one helpless subject, beneath her master’s whip hand.
It took a few moments for her to realise he had stopped. Her bottom and thighs continued to pulse with urgent heat and she had writhed herself into exhausted passivity. She wondered why her face was wet then realised she had been crying. She hung, loose and infinitely relaxed in her bonds, finally understanding the meaning of the word catharsis.
Paul’s hand landed on her shoulder, light and reassuring.
“Did I go too far?” he asked abruptly, beginning to untie her.
“No,” she gasped. “No. Oh no.”
Once untethered, she collapsed into his arms, seeking a comfort he seemed to provide instinctively, holding her close and burying his face in her hair, letting the tears flow until the sobs subsided and she lay, quiet and peaceful, in his embrace.
“I think I got a bit carried away,” he said with a rueful little catch in his voice. “I’m sorry if I—”
“No, you don’t have to be sorry. I know what I’ve been missing now. Something amazing. I’m so grateful to you. So grateful, and I’ll never forget it.”
“Shh,” he soothed, tightening his hold on her. “It’s me who should be thanking you. I’m the one who should be grateful.”
“Hmm?” She looked up at him, daring to hope this hadn’t all been a little treat for her sole benefit.
“We’re mirror images of each other, Suka, when it comes to these practices. Do you think I didn’t enjoy that—more than I legally should? Eh?” He smiled indulgently, and a little fearfully. “What you like to receive, I like to give. Always have. Urge-repression will never change that.”