Judgment II: Mercy (17 page)

From out in the hall, she heard a voice in hushed excitement asking, "Who's getting the switching?"

"I don't know. Who's missing?"

Female voices giggled and hushed as the steady tromp of a master's boots came down the hall.

"Take your seats," Boyden commanded, and Mercy turned her head, listening as the brisk clicking of highheeled shoes hastened across the stone floor. The sound was quickly muffled by the carpet.

For a time there was silence, and Mercy's skin prickled as she imagined speculative eyes upon her.

"Would you like a Demerit, Shell?" Boyden suddenly boomed.

"No, sir!"

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"Then I suggest you face forward."

Mercy heard the master's boots approaching and she lifted her chin a little as Boyden said, "Are you really going to do it?"

Mercy started a little when Cobb kissed the top of her shoulder. Her cheeks flushed as his hand between her thighs parted the folds of her labia and found her clit.

"I am," Cobb said. He chuckled. "It's a dirty job, but someone has to."

"He's going to spit nails," Boyden laughed and headed back the way he'd come.

"Hold still," Cobb told her, and lay a quick swat to her clit when she continued to wiggle her hips to evade his fingers.

Mercy tried to hold still, but her stomach still churned and her body was processing the touch as invasive rather than pleasurable. That it wasn't Shipe's hands seemed to make a difference, though she knew it shouldn't. He didn't want her, and he wasn't her barrack's master any longer. Cobb was. He was the one she had to obey now, and the bulge of his interest pressing up against the crack of her buttocks clearly said he was more than willing to exercise the privileges that came with the chore.

The Lessers began to whisper again. "How many do you think she'll get?"

"My bracelet for your comb it's three dozen."

"Three with the birch," another added sagely. "Plus one with the strap. She's an Elite. They'll whip her harder."

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Mercy felt sick to her stomach, and the clatter of more highheels and more excited whispers heralded the approach of an army of high-heeled Lessers.

"You know your places," Master Deaton said from the doorway. "And you..."

A meek female trembled out a shaky, "Yes, sir?"

"Pay attention. This is you next Saturday."

Helpless to do anything else, Mercy listened to the low murmur of both male and female voices rising in volume as the room began to fill.

"Hold still," Cobb told her again, and gave three warning swats right across her sensitive sex. "I'm not going to tell you again."

Mercy panted, startled by the sting of the blows. She hadn't realized she'd been moving. "I'm sorry."

"You'll be even more sorry if you continue trying to evade my hand."

Mercy stiffened in his lap when he slid a finger inside her.

She caught hold of his thighs to keep herself from pulling away. She grit her teeth, concentrating on not moving while he explored her both inside and out. The bulge behind her had grown harder and much more pronounced as it nuzzled up between her buttocks, and his breathing became uneven.

"When the whipping gets underway," he said against her nape, "you're going to straddle my thighs." His finger withdrew from her sheath to circle her reluctantly responsive clit with the moistened tip. "You're going to show me a little appreciation for taking you under my wing, and we'll see how quiet you can be. Long, slow strokes, do you understand?

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You're going to move up and down with long, slow, sensual strokes."

He swept her hair back from her face to kiss the shell of her ear, and Mercy nodded, but inside she felt brittle. Had he made this request of her at any other time, perhaps she would have felt differently. Instead, inside her there was only a disquieting revulsion and a plaintive wish that it was Shipe that she felt beneath her, so eager to be buried in the warm welcome of her body.

The whispering shushed as three sets of boots came through the Assembly Hall door and headed up the aisle to the dais.

"Masters Tane, Deaton and Hutch have just entered," Cobb murmured in her ear. He took his hands from between her thighs. "Lift your head."

Mercy raised her face as though she could see through her blindfold to the dais. She wondered if Shipe were up there, watching her yet.

"What are the rules I gave you concerning the Drone?"

Tane boomed out over the dead-silent assembly, his tone calm and yet as hard and as cold as steel. "Do not talk to her.

Do not look to her. Do not have any interactions with her. I want everyone to take a long, hard look at her right now. Get your fill."

Mercy didn't know it was possible to hear someone staring at her, but she could. She heard that entire assembly of Lessers, all sitting on the floor before her, turning in place to fix her with their unblinking eyes.

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"Make damn good and sure that this is the last time you—

any of you—ever do so again." Raising his voice, Tane called out, "Bring forth the penitent."

"She's nude," Cobb whispered in her ear as two guards marched Mahogany into the hall and down the long aisle to the waiting block. There was a definite amusement to his tone as he added, "I would say she looks a little scared. She's probably been through this before, back before she was sold."

"You deceived your barrack's master," Tane said, "and used the opportunity to sneak into the common library, where you never should have been. You assaulted the Drone and injured her. Your sentence is four dozen strokes with the birch for your crimes, with an additional fifteen with the martinet to atone for your dishonesty when later questioned about it."

A ripple of shock went through the gathered Lessers, but they quieted almost immediately as Tane added, "You will then be placed into Solitary Confinement with a count of six lashes of the strap given each morning and evening for two weeks."

Mercy gasped, not so much over the severity of the punishment as because Cobb had again slipped his hand between her thighs. Almost idly, he caressed the length of her slit, running the tips of his fingers up and down her cunt. Her hands clenched into fists against his thighs, and he whispered in her ear, "I can see her shaking now. Yes, I'm sure she's been through this before."

And yet, softly, Mahogany managed a trembling, "Thank you, Master Tane."

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Mercy turned her head as she heard the unmistakable sound of clinking buckles and opening straps as the block was prepared for her.

"Don't worry," Cobb murmured. "It's not you who'll be feeling the bite of the birch rods." He cupped her chin, tipping her head back until she rested upon his shoulder. "At least not until you've healed up a bit."

Struggling to hold her breath, her stomach a flutter of knots, she struggled to interpret the sounds of Mahogany being securely fastened down. The Elite whimpered once, but whether that was because the reality of her eminent punishment was sinking into her or because the birch rods—

still soaking in the brine that harden them and increase their durability—were brought out, Mercy couldn't tell.

"Up on my thighs," Cobb whispered, and Mercy's stomach dropped all the way to her toes as she felt him start to unfasten his pants.

Her breath whooshed out of her in a noisy exhale and she dared to shake her head. She pushed from him, whispering a broken, "Please..."

Cobb caught her chin again. Pulling her back hard against his chest and holding her immobile, he softly said, "Shipe is not the only master in these halls that you must heed. You will not find me cruel, Mercy, but you can either straddle my lap now, or you will do it later with a very sore backside."

"Let the punishment proceed," Tane said from the dais.

"Master Grayson, the first dozen, if you please."

Mercy eased her legs apart to straddle his cross-legged lap.

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"Remember," Cobb whispered, raising her bib of her skirt and tucking it into the waistband so that her bottom was bared to his eyes. "This is to be a quiet venture. If you draw attention, I'm not going to be pleased."

Bowing her head, Mercy tried not to think about whether or not Shipe might be watching.

"Master, do your duty," came Tane's booming voice and Mercy heard the rustle of the birch rods knocking together as they were lifted from the brine and lightly tapped upon the side of the bucket to dislodge excess drops of salty water.

Warm and smooth, the thick, knobby head of Cobb's cock nestled up between her buttocks to press against her pussy lips. He pulled her hips back over his own, forcing her to rub back and forth upon him. "Master Grayson is measuring his first cut. Seven switches; he must really want to slice into the woman. You must be feeling very vindicated right now."

Mercy swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. She heard the birch hiss through the air and all but felt the burrowing smack as the switches sank into Mahogany. The Elite made no sound, but somewhere to her left a Lesser was softly crying. Probably the one scheduled for her own Assembly hearing next week.

Mercy could sympathize. Her one and only meeting with the birch had convinced her that it was an implement to revered. She could only imagine the one in use now. The verges would no doubt be slender, long and whippy enough to wrap around the hip, with each individual rod forming its own smarting band of color upon which all future strokes would deliberately be aimed, widening and deepening the shade 159

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until there was nothing of paleness left anywhere in her. On the birch that Shipe had used, the buds and twigs had not been stripped away, and Mercy could still remember how that extra biting pain had nearly driven her half-mad before he was even halfway through her count.

The second and third strokes snapped across bare flesh at surprisingly lengthy intervals, giving Mahogany plenty of time to reflect on the agony and to dread the blows yet to come.

"Lean against me," Cobb whispered, and Mercy raised her head, laying it back on his shoulder as his fingers pulled her nether lips apart. It nearly got the better of her, her frightening desire to tear away the blindfold and to run from the room, or up to the dais to fling herself at Shipe's feet and beg him take her back. She'd have willingly accepted Mahogany's punishment as her own, if it would have made the difference. She'd even have doubled the count, although that resolve wavered at the hiss and snick of the fourth stroke, when Mahogany lost her ability to remain silent.

"Hah!" Buckles clinked as she jerked in her bonds, and Cobb chose just that moment to push his rampant manhood up inside her, the length of him opening and filling her.

"Her bottom is clenching and bucking," he whispered, breathing harder against her ear. "Damn you feel good. Seat yourself upon me, Mercy. Long and slow." He sighed his contentment as, hating herself for the cowardly creature she was, Mercy sank all the way upon him. Her traitor's body was even growing wetly aroused, despite her aching heart. Each violent snap of the birch and pain-filled cry made her pussy tingle and clench, as though it were her own bottom bearing 160

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the ensuing punishment and growing wealed with streaks of violet hurt.

"Good girl," Cobb whispered, and Mercy bit her bottom lip.

She began to cry, as soft as she knew how, her tears hurting her eyes even wore than they already did and soaking into the fabric of the blindfold.

At the ninth stroke, the Hall rang with Mahogany's wail,

"Oh God, no! PLEASE! UUNGH!"

And to Mercy's horror, her body responded to the sound with the same hungry zeal that she had heard in the voices of the Lessers only moments before.

"The marks are melting into one scalding contusion," Cobb said huskily, his hands on her hips, helping her to find a slowly rhythm of movement. "I'm going to love watching your ass bounce like that when you go to the block for your lies—

my God, yes, squeeze like that again!"

He grabbed hold of her hair, pulling back on her head as he lifted his hips and ground his shaft to the root up inside her. Mercy grabbed at her hair, nearly losing her composure to a cry of pain when he promptly twisted her arm back behind her.

"You'd love a whipping, wouldn't you?" he hissed in her ear. "Well, if you don't start riding me the way I've told you, you're going to get a good one! Or maybe I should reverse it and say you'll never get another one again!"

Mercy struggled to keep her movements slow and steady, and her sobs soft. But her body, a thing totally detached from her mind, thrilled at the thought, at least, of bearing such a whipping as the one she was hearing. The friction of hugging 161

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his cock within her was creating an unwelcome warmth that was growing harder to ignore. She couldn't keep from tightening all around him, and particularly not when Cobb whispered, "Smile for your old barrack's master. He has, it would appear, eyes that are only for you."

Mercy bowed over, covering her mouth with her free hand, her shoulders shaking with sobs too deep for sound. Cobb yanked her back up by her hair, and on the block, the dozen was completed with three brutal swipes that must have stung to the very soul. Mahogany's shrieks certainly made them sound that way.

"It's a toss up which activity I like more," Cobb panted, grinding his hips in the slightest of circles as Tane called Master Smith to continue with the next birch and the next dozen strokes.

Her belly heated. Molten liquid smeared across her thighs and soaked Cobb's hand as he fondled and rubbed her clit.

And Mahogany screamed all through the next dozen, which hewed so mercilessly into her.