Content warning: noncon caning
Their room in the castle was fine, the bed a four-poster. He stripped the finery off of her and tied her wrists and ankles to the posts.
I hate you. But she had chosen this, and she’d have to take… “One.”
The pain was sharp, chill. “Two.” Then the heat. “Three. Do you hate… ahh…ahh… hate me, Master?”
“Hate you?” The can rested lightly against the curve of her ass. “No. I own you, Princess. That’s entirely different.”
“Yes, si-i-r.” The cane came down hard on one buttock and then the other. “Four. Five.” She could survive this.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/449970.html. You can comment here or there.