“How did the belt whipping you got from Rigio feel?”
Silence.
“Please tell me. Did it feel good?”
Tension in her shoulders, heaving breaths again. She warred within herself between what had been and what now was.
“It’s okay to say that it did feel good, Faesca. It’s not bad to like what your Masters do with you. Not in Mida.”
He gave her a moment to think on that.
“Would you like to have another belt whipping like you got from Rigio?”
She nodded under her arms.
His hand slipped under her arm to draw her from the sofa. “Come here.”
She turned around, feeling small and shaking nervously again. His strong fingers under her chin tilted her face up until she looked at him. She knew so much…and so little.
“It’s okay, Faesca. It is important to tell us you like what we do. If you like it, we do it more. We like to do the things you like to receive. If you want me to give you a nice strapping, you have only to ask,” he concluded, opening firm fingers to softly cup her cheek.
She struggled with acceptance, a single tear sliding out her right eye for such unfamiliar kindness.
“You are allowed pleasure here,” he said, calm with measured earnest. “We require that all things be pleasurable to our love slaves. No one will punish you for liking the things we do. We will prize you all the more.”
He paused, seeing her ease slightly and deciding on a new angle.
“Do you feel a gnawing in your belly? A craving for the pain of the strap? Here?”
His hand massaged just below her belly button.
Blinking, the scared bunny returned, she nodded a tiny nod.
“Do you like the peaceful calm that settles over you after?”
Another nod. How did he know?
“Do you sleep very well?” he asked with a small smile, hand lowering to cup her quim. She stood wider on her knees for him…such a good girl…and gave a more confident nod.
“How often did your former whip you?” he asked, slipping two fingers into her.
“A’mosh every gay,” she whispered so small he barely heard.
“Almost every day?” he repeated for clarity.
One more nod.
He removed the fingers, judging her to be receptive but not yet in high need.
He held his arms open. “Come here.”
She put herself into his embrace and he held her close and warm. A long moment it was, during which she calmed considerably. He ended the hug, set her back at the half arm’s length.
“Now tell me true. Would you like me to give you a nice long strapping to help you feel that special quiet and sleep well?”
Calm, quiet, with that same adorable blink. “Peash, Masker.”
He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Good girl. As you were over the cushion. Be prepared for me.”
She was much faster this time and he made only one correction, moving her arms off her head. “My aim is true, sweet little Faesca. I will never strike that which I do not want to hit. And I never will want to hit you in the head. Not ever. I promise you.”
On second thought, one more adjustment. He moved her hair clear of her face, wanting to see her expression. And maybe putting her knees a couple inches farther over so he could better see the pink of her puss while she remained tall on her knees. He started lightly, ranging from her shoulders down to her ribs, listening to her gasp, watching her flinch inside her skin. After ten minutes, he stroked a hand over her back. She sucked in a breath, sighing it out long and even. Slipping his other hand down and under to find her clitoris, she was catapulted into a sudden hard climax.
He had not expected it so soon. Nor so easily.
“Very good girl. Would you like a harder beating now?”
“Peash, Masker,” she breathed.
He took her through another quarter hour, increasing his speed and force until she was taking as hard as he wanted of her. Only a moderate force. Not nearly as hard as he would in future days. Not for the first with him. And this time, when he grasped her clitoris, she shrieked and jerked downward in ejaculatory orgasm.
The beating itself aroused her passions.
He sat on the sofa to watch her recover from the powerful release, thinking he would have to reward Dohan very well. Such a treasure as this was rare indeed. He got himself another serving of wine, smiling into it when his secretary knocked on the door to announce Axlar’s return.
“Your timing is impeccable, brother,” he said, having risen. “I have something to show you.”
Without asking her if she wanted more, Preece began another round. He started as hard as he had ended the previous, quickly working up to smarting ¾ strength thwacks that echoed off the stone walls. She made no sound other than the occasional grunt or sigh. She no longer flinched, rapidly descending into the Beating Slave’s Dream Space. He gave her only five minutes worth, however. A firm squeeze of her clit and her cum jetted from her, running down both thighs in a warm river. No shriek this time. She let out a long, low, grunting groan and her body shuddered hard.
“Was that your idea or hers?” Axlar asked.
“She requested a strapping after some discussion to get her over her many Murabettan morals and trepidations. She is primed and ready for you and I’ll be back in the morning. I have to reward my slave.”
“What did Doe do?” Axlar asked, helping Peeper to her feet.
“Put his own ass on the line to make me see she’s a beating slave. Not a thing he does often,” Preece replied, watching Peeper swoon so that Axlar was compelled to scoop her up into strong arms.
“I’ll see you tomorrow in Council,” Axe said by way of exit.
He carried her through the palace to his own chamber and eased her onto the bed. The slightest caress of her thigh and she opened completely to him. So yielding and acquiescent was she that he took her to the limits of her endurance and left her sleeping in his bed while he went to the evening meal. He didn’t leave her for long, however, taking Rainko back with him. Refreshed by the deep nap, she did not protest when the two took turns with straps from the wall. Axlar refrained from introducing her to penile sodomy, instead using a medium sized leather phallus to begin opening her. He and his brother shared her repeatedly, toying with her together, watching as the other used her alone, delighting in the newness of the day’s discovery and learning her responses to many things.
Rainko escorted her to the slave hall and personally put her into her sleeping space. He remained at the opening, a hand resting on her leg until she was asleep. A matter of minutes in her well-fucked, well-beaten state. He went in search of Morcone, finding the Custodian of Thralls in his small office with Echie in bondage on her back over his desk and numerous painful clips in various places over breasts, thighs and labia.
A lovely picture indeed.
“Peeper is to be cared for in the manner of a beating slave from now on.”
“That is rather sudden, Highness,” Morcone replied, having risen from his chair to bow for the Prince.
“Six years in the making, actually. She may be new to Mida’s way of the love slave; but she is an experienced and quite accomplished beating slave.”
“How accomplished?” Morcone had to ask.
“Give her a few months and she’ll equal Orla.”
With that, Prince Rainko went to his own chamber, to Hanar’s waiting flesh. For the first time in months, he was too spent to make use of her, turning over with his back to her to get a sound sleep. And sent her back to the Slave Hall in the gray of early dawn without using her even once.
Excerpt from PEEPER — https://books2read.com/u/bOxRLK
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TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twentysomething fiction books.
Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler
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Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2
You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828
She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.
