Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
I chimed in, trying to match Camille’s tone of mortification. “The men who… who took us,” I stammered, lowering my eyes to the floor. “They shaved us. It was so shameful, Monsieur. I can’t… I just can’t do that to Camille.”
Beaumont’s eyes narrowed, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Is that so?” he purred, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You poor, innocent little things. So ashamed of your bodies, aren’t you?”
I nodded vigorously, biting my lip as if fighting back tears. “Yes, Monsieur,” I whispered. “It’s just too humiliating. Please don’t make us do this.”
As I pleaded with Beaumont, I couldn’t help but remember the last time Camille and I had shaved each other. It had been in the bathing chamber of the Sons of Odin, under Mor Astrid’s watchful eye. Camille’s touch had been so gentle, so careful as she’d run the razor over my most intimate areas. The memory sent an involuntary shiver through me, one I hoped Beaumont would interpret as fear rather than arousal.
“Well,” Beaumont said, moving to a nearby cabinet. “If you’re too ashamed to obey me, perhaps you need a reminder of your place here.”
My stomach dropped as over my shoulder I watched him retrieve a long, slender cane from the cabinet. He flexed it between his hands, then swung it sharply in front of him. The whoosh of it cutting through the air made both Camille and me flinch.
Seeing the cane, my eyes widened in fear. “No, please, Monsieur!” I cried out. “I’ll obey, I promise. I’ll… I’ll shave Camille… down… down there… just as you asked.”
Beside me, Camille nodded frantically. “Yes, Monsieur. We’ll do it. Please don’t punish us.”
But Beaumont just shook his head, that cruel smile still playing on his lips. “Oh, no, my little sluts. You’ve already disobeyed me once. Now you must learn the consequences of your actions.”
He pointed the cane at me. “Prepare yourselves, whores. Turn your heads. Eyes down and look at the floor while I whip you.”
My whole body trembled as I obeyed, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to focus on the marble tiles, the veins running through the stone. I gripped the polished edges of the bench tightly. Suddenly I didn’t need to pretend at all; the cane truly terrified me.
I heard the whistle of the rattan cutting through the air a split second before it connected with my bare bottom. The pain was immediate and intense, a line of fire across both cheeks. I couldn’t hold back my scream, the sound echoing off the bathroom’s tiled walls.
I heard the sound again, but the thwack of the horrid thing came from Camille’s bottom rather than mine, and it was my friend who cried out, the jerk of her body moving the bench beneath us.
Then my second stroke landed, slightly lower than the first. Tears sprang to my eyes as I cried out again. He whipped Camille a second time, and then the third and final stroke on my backside came quickly after. I sobbed openly, my bottom feeling as if it were on fire.
“Stand up,” Beaumont commanded. “I want you both to go look at yourselves in the mirror. See what happens to naughty girls who disobey.”
Camille and I moved to the full-length mirror on the far wall, our steps slow and unsteady. As I turned to look over my shoulder at my reflection, I gasped softly in mingled dismay and unwelcome arousal. Three angry red welts crossed my pale skin, already beginning to darken into bruises. Camille’s bottom looked much the same, the marks just as stark against her darker complexion.
As I stared at our punished bottoms in the mirror, I felt the familiar warmth building between my legs. My pussy clenched involuntarily, and I had to bite back a moan. The sight of our marked flesh, the evidence of Beaumont’s dominance over us, was arousing me despite my best efforts to resist.
I glanced at Camille and thought I could see a similar struggle playing out on her face. Her cheeks had flushed, and her breathing had quickened. I felt sure she too had to fight against her body’s traitorous response.
“Beautiful,” Beaumont said. “I like to fuck a whipped bottom best of all. Now, into the shower with you.”
CHAPTER 32
Mary
Trembling, Camille and I stepped into the massive shower stall. The cool tiles beneath my feet sent a shiver up my legs and through my body, clashing distractingly with the burning ache from my freshly caned bottom. The opulence surrounding us—gleaming chrome fixtures, multiple showerheads, and what looked like a built-in steam system, seemed a far cry from the communal showers at university, or even the Sons of Odin’s bathing chamber.
Beaumont’s voice cut through my observations. “Turn on the water, sluts. I want to see you get nice and wet for me.”