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In Roland’s house

Roland annoys me so much by constantly insinuating I’ll believe I’m in love with him. I still like him though. Sometimes when he’s less ugly, he’s halfway to being cute. And he’s so funny. I admire his independent thought, and how he doesn’t blindly go along with whatever the media or government or society bleat in his ear. He is very interesting.

He’s strong, which is another irritating thing about him; I’ve always taken my strength for granted. I was always in the top three strongest, tallest and smartest kids in the class all through school until about fifth year when the boys suddenly grew taller and got muscles. (And sometimes I actually was the strongest in the class). But Roland can move me really easily, even though I’m heavy for my height/figure. I can still arm-wrestle boys and win, though, so maybe he couldn’t beat me at that. Anyway it’s really irritating that I can’t force him onto the floor and pin him there.

In the studio, we were trying to get the handcuffs on each other; he was lying on the floor and I was sitting on him. I was using my legs and feet to push his arms down but after a few minutes of us wrestling on the floor, he finally got one of my wrists in a cuff. I quickly got it off, but I couldn’t cuff him and after a bit he cuffed my hand again, and later put the other cuff on me.  He was pleased, I could tell. Grinning like a perverted millionaire who’d just handcuffed a naked prostitute.Then he pushed me off him and I rolled onto the floor, my hands cuffed in front of me. I tried to chet and jump back on him but even that attempt ended in failure.

Afterwards we were talking about stuff and I asked him why he’d said he was 42 in reply to my Gumtree ad, when he was 4 years older, and why he’d said “I am 42 and professional but I have an interest in spanking” as if you couldn’t be professional and a spanko. He couldn’t even remember what he’d said or why he’d lied.

I found out that he’d guessed I came to the photoshoot to trial him! He guessed that after I said “ask me why I came here” as he was interrogating and spanking me after the photoshoot. How could he guess?! I could’ve just come for the spanking!! He said that, after he’d spanked me and he was saying that would I want to be spanked for money in his office or a hotel, he could tell that I wanted to but I just wanted the right price. He could tell that, he said, because “I thought you would be shocked. I thought you would say no. You said ‘maybe’, so I thought, ‘she wants to but she wants the right price.’ Your body language didn’t say no. You didn’t even seem surprised. I knew you were smart. So I thought ‘this is a smart girl, she wants a good price’.”

I was totally surprised. “How did you know I was smart? Because I had a degree?”

“Well- yeah.” He giggled. “And I knew from talking to you that you were well-read, so I thought, a well-read educated girl, she wants a good price.”

I couldn’t believe this. Usually others can’t see through my machinations.

“So, you knew I was going to ask you if you wanted to buy virginity!” I said.

“Well, no; not virginity, but I expected to hear from you later naming your price.”

Anyway, we left the studio and he told me what would’ve happened if I’d said my student debts were 12k on the drive – i.e. the same result or actually worse (it’s in the post called ‘studio bondage’).  Wegot to Roland’s house and what it is is a four-bedroom house with a big living room and kitchen, 2 bathrooms and a garage. It’s cosy, nicely decorated with a hint of the exotic – none of that modern or minimalist crap – so I liked it there. It’s not got much furniture in it. There wasn’t a swimming pool like I thought there would be and the TV was just a 42 inch, which was disappointing because ours is a 37 inch so although his is bigger, it’s not a lot bigger than ours. I had thought it would be a 50 incher or maybe cover an entire wall. I had thought he lived in a mansion. I had the printout of one of his bank statements showing over 1.6 million in my bag so I knew he was telling the truth that he was a millionaire. Roland had said, in response to me asking if his house was really big on the drive there, that it was big but not too big and just enough space that was needed, but I still had thouht it might be huge because everyone knows that rich people do not have the same definitions as everybody else. However, Ro is self-made/new money so obviously he’d be a lot more normal because he was once normal.

We were in the kitchen and I said I’d imagined his wife’s name to be Magda, for some weird reason (I thought he’d got a parcel but it was for his wife) and he said “Like Mary Magdalene” a reference I didn’t get till a minute later (his wife had been a gogo dancer and sex worker when he met her as a student).

There were kiddies’ pics all over, drawn by “Magda”‘s child’s kids (she was a lone mother when he met her) and I said “It’s a shame you don’t have a son my age; or I could do you a family deal.”

He burst out laughing. “A family deal?!”

“Yeah, then you could get a discount.”

He thought it was really funny.

He fixed me coffee – it was really good- and showed me this email on his laptop that he hadn’t seen for 12 years but he had accidentally seen just before he picked me up in Buccleuch Place – a huge coincidence, he said.He’d told me about it on the drive over; it was his interpretation of the dichotomy (in its art/literature context); an interpretation that did away with the duality of virgin and whore and introduced a third aspect.   Roland said in the email that the dichotomy is something he thought about, and divides it up into three strands, (virgin, whore and another one I can’t remember but I think it was the curious/adventurous dignified woman) not two (virgin and whore). In the email, he claimed this is his personal interpretation.I wish I could remember all of it and copy it here, but with reference to the dichotomy, I think one of the most powerful lines is a throwaway one – “I’ve been married to a dancer for […] years, amd therein lies a story” – according to the dichotomy, non-virgins (in present times, adventurous women, women who don’t want relationships/just need sex, and sex workers) are not marriage material and no man would want to marry them.  This was interesting to read but I was far more interested in the upcoming (Borat accent) SEXYTIIIIMMMEEE!!

Roland did some work stuff with the speakers on full blast with some of my favourite songs. They were the best computer speakers I ever heard; it was a very real – and loud- sound. It was a nice kitchen, too. He said he’d take me to the hotel later on and I relaxed, because I guessed I wouldn’t have to give him a blowjob until hours later in a different place, so I’d worry about it then.

Then he took me into the livingroom to spank me.

 

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The 7 Nights (chapter 1)

I wrote this over a year ago, never dreaming I’d find my own special Roland pervert! And real-Roland is an improvement over fictional-Roland because he’s rich! He’s also much more kind than fictional-Roland.

Chapter 1

The sun was emerging from behind the clouds when Roland pulled back the curtain. Roland was gorgeous – he had black hair that rippled down to curls below his broad shoulders, olive skin and large deep-set dark eyes over high cheekbones. His full lips curved in a soft smile. Today was a special day. Chastity White would arrive from Mississippi at any moment, and Roland would be babysitting her for six days. Chastity was twenty, but her dad was very overprotective of his only child and would never dream of leaving her alone at home while he was on tour preaching. Chastity’s mom was a missionary and wouldn’t be home for months. For six days and seven nights, Chastity would know only this suburban two-bedroom house. Roland smirked in anticipation of what was to come. He had plans for her.

A soft knock made itself heard. Roland smirked again as he calmly strolled over to the door, unlocked it, and saw her for the first time in months. Her blue eyes widened and she smiled instantly, a child’s smile. She was beautiful, even without make-up and dressed in frumpy clothing as always, her long blonde hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, a gold cross dangling from her neck. Chastity had porcelain skin, a great figure and a kid’s fringe, her breasts hidden by a pink mohair sweater, legs encased in loose high-waisted jeans. She was wearing pink sneakers that looked new.
.Roland’s eye was drawn, as always, to the cheap red ring on her ring finger. It looked out of place, especially as Chastity usually wore quality. But Roland was one of the few people in the UK who understood the significance of the little plastic circle: it was an abstinence ring, a promise ring, and it meant that Chastity had taken a public vow of abstinence,  a sacred oath to God not to have sex until the plastic ring was exchanged for a gold ring on her wedding day – and that night, Chastity would fuck. Her years or even decades of inhibition would be rewarded, and she would mate like a rabid whore, all the years of sexual repression having spawned the most depraved urges.

“Oh Roland! How sweet of you to have me,” she squealed, beaming and smiling her pristine, sincere smile that made Roland picture all the other things he would make her do with her mouth, her innocent, pure lips that had never even touched alcohol or coffee. And yes, he was going to have her.

“The pleasure’s all mine, babe. C’mon, I’ll take your stuff upstairs, would you like a bite to eat? I can whip up some pasta.”

“Thank you, Roland,” she replied in her soft, breathy little voice, “You really are too kind.”

The pasta was cooking nicely. Roland pulled out his mortar and pestle, grinding four laxative tablets into a yellow powder. His heart was pounding; he was almost shaking with terror or ecstasy, he couldn’t tell which. He sprinkled the powder into the saucepan, adding spices and plenty of salt and pepper. Next, Roland poured out the lemonade and laced Chastity’s with diuretics. The water in the saucepan was starting to boil. With trembling fingers he turned off the cooker, took the lemonades to the table, and a few minutes later called out to Chastity that lunch was ready. Was that really his voice, sounding so controlled, so calm? Chastity ambled into the kitchen, even her walk was oh so prim and proper. But all that was about to change! Soon she would be embarrassed, her whiter-than-white cheeks flaming red as she uncontrollably  pissed in her prissy Southern jeans.

Roland felt his cock stiffening as she sat down in her still-dry jeans, completely trusting in him. Roland had a large package, and his lovely, thick member was slowly standing to attention. His penis was gorgeous, all shiny pink and veined, and Roland could picture it as he rubbed its head through his black jeans. He wanted to take it all hot in his hand and reassure it that it would have some action soon. Soon, he whispered to his hard-on, soon. Be patient.

“How was your flight?” he asked, marvelling at how light and airy his voice was.
Chastity twined some pasta around her fork. “Oh, it was fine, quite pleasant, really. I prayed for daddy’s mission to go well, it will, of course, but I always pray.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’ll go well. Your dad’s a really respected preacher, isn’t he? And it’s the Lord’s will, baby.”
They ate in companiable silence for a while. Roland was pitching a large tent in his jeans. When was she going to wet herself? The tension was almost unbearable.
“So, how’s life?” he said vaguely. Chastity toyed with her fork before pouting, “I don’t regret not going to college. It was the right decision, you know how much I’ve always wanted to be a missionary like mummy and daddy. I don’t need any qualifications for that. And someone else got to go to college in my place when I turned my place down.”
“Chastity, you’re a beautiful intelligent girl. You made the choice that’s right for you, and your gossipy friends can’t tell you what’s right for you. You’ll be a great missionary, I know it.”
Their eyes met, and she gently squeezed his wrist. Then a look of fear came into her face.
“Oh no, I have to pee!” she squealed, jumping up. She took two steps, crossed her legs and leaned forward. Suddenly something inside her slipped out of her control. her bladder let loose the muscle that was holding back her piss. Chastity peed her pants. She grabbed her crotch but it was too late – her mouth had gone dry and her pants had gone wet. A flood of piss poured into her panties as her bladder instantly deflated. Chastity gasped out loud – she had completely lost control. She piddled. She widdled. She peed and she weed. She was really doing it. She was peeing her panties. Warm piss flooded her thin cotton panties, seeping over her bottom. She squealed and clutched the front of her jeans, desperately trying to regain control of her rapidly emptying bladder. But it was too late. Chastity’s pants were completely drenched. She blushed bright red as she saw a damp blotch blooming over her lap. Roland was getting a full view of her peeing accident! “Ohhhhhh…oh no- no, no…” Chastity whimpered, clasping her crotch as the wet spot spread.  “Oooh…oooops… I’m wetting my pants, I’m doing a pee in my panties!” The spot on her lap dampened into a soaked patch. She crossed her legs and looked down at her drenched jeans. She watched in silent horror as the soaked blotch spread across her lap and the inside of her leg darkened. Chastity bent further, squeezing her legs together to keep the hot urine from streaming out, but the piss continued pouring out of her deflating bladder. Chastity closed her eyes in shame. She felt wee trickling down her thighs. She crossed her legs. She even crossed her fingers. Frantically she twisted her hands in her lap. Her  deflating bladder was letting her wee all pour out in a warm rush.  She got that warm feeling down below. she just stood there wetting her pants all the way through. She began to cry with embarrassment, the terrible humiliation of losing control of her pee while a boy was watching every squirt. The huge torrent of hot pent-up pee unleashed all over herself, she was emptying my bladder all down her legs. Warm wet wee was going down her legs. She just couldn’t stop peeing.  She started to cry as she realised she had completely lost control; she was going to keep wetting herself until her bladder was completely empty and there was nothing she could do about it. She was wet through. So warm. All wet. Swamping her jeans, the splattering down her legs becoming a stream, now a deluge. She stumbled away from Roland, trying to get to a bathroom, but Roland was prepared. Not for nothing had he spent the past two weeks feverishly scribbling his plans for her, The Seven Nights. Roland gripped her wrist. “Naughty sissygirls who go peepee in their panties don’t get to go to the big girls’ bathroom. They have to pee their pants…not that you’re able to stop pissing yourself anyway.”

Chastity was still sobbing and peeing right into her panties. Squirts of pee spurted into her sneakers. Then she heard the drip, drip, drip. Chastity was dripping on the linoleum. How embarrassing! She was peeing right through her jeans! The drips became a trickle, then a stream of yellow piss splashing onto the floor. Then – oh the shame – she made a puddle. She made a yellow puddle on the floor like a naughty little girl. Roland’s eyes were watching the piss spraying out of her. Her  pee was on display for him to see. “Nonononono…oh no I’m pissing the floor! I’m making a puddle! I’m making a pee-puddle underneath me!” Slowly it pooled underneath her. She couldn’t believe she was standing in Roland’s kitchen relieving herself in her knickers right in front of him. She pressed her hands into her crotch, doubling over and slowly sinking into a half-crouch. “No, please…not a puddle…” She just went piiiiisssshhhh, all over her pants, her  jeans, the floor. Chastity could actually feel the pish running down her legs and splattering noisily all over the linoleum. Her trainers were filled with wee. She was pissing into her trainers, just standing in Roland’s kitchen with a steaming yellow puddle spreading round her sneakers. She knew she was a naughty girl, making a puddle of pee. Gradually, the last trickles drained out of her now empty bladder. Chastity found herself standing in a puddle, wet at both ends and wearing pissed-in jeans.
“Oh dear,” Chastity gasped, “I wet myself.”
“‘oh dear, I wet myself’? You just peed your pants and you’re saying, ‘oh dear I wet myself?’ Yes,” said Roland, “You just went wee-wee in your pants. Why did liddle Chastity wet her panties?”
Chastity’s face burned with shame. She just looked down at her drenched jeans and trainers full of pee. She looked at the puddle she’d made. Chastity was very aware that her knickers were wringing wet.

“Naughty widdle girls who go peepee deserve a spanking,” Roland announced. “Chastity, I’m going to spank you until your rear cheeks are as red as your front cheeks.”
Chastity’s hands flew to her damp behind. Her sobbing got louder. “No, Roland, please no! Not my butt! Please don’t spank my ass, I’ve never been spanked!”
Roland held her wrist as he moved his chair and sat. “You peed your panties like a little girl, so you’re getting spanked over my knee just like a little girl. Maybe that’ll teach you not to make lemonade in your knickers.”
He placed a tea towel over his lap so her piss wouldn’t get on his clothes.
“Please don’t spank me, I’ll never wet myself again, I promise!” she wailed, one hand hiding the sodden patch on the front of her jeans, the other protecting her backside . Roland patted her bum. “You won’t be able to sit on your arse when I’m finished giving it a good, old-fashioned bottom warming.” Chastity gulped. Her wet jeans suddenly felt very thin. “I’m so sorry, please not on my butt, it’ll be so embarrassing if you put me over your knee and smack my bottom.”

Roland looked into her blue eyes all wet with tears of humiliation. They were twin pools of terror, begging him not to spank her.

“You have totally pissed yourself. Your little ass needs a warm lesson across my  knee.”

Roland pulled the crying girl over his lap. Chastity went scarlet as she realised that she was over someone’s knee about to be spanked. Her bottom was tingling with anticipation of the smacks it was going to receive. Roland pulled off a pink sneaker and tipped the piss out of it. Chastity flushed with embarrassment as a pint of Chastity-pee poured onto the floor. Roland removed her other shoe and emptied the piddle out of it too. Then he raised his large hand and brought it crashing down on her trembling rear end.

“Oweee! My bummy!” she squealed, before another smack landed on the curve of her butt. Roland grinned as he gave the quivering rump another short, sharp shock to remind Chastity not to go pissing herself. Roland gave Chastity a hard smack on her butt and heard a whimper of pain. This was certainly going to be an education for Chastity’s bottom.

“Ow!” she yelped, “Roland -“. but Roland couldn’t have cared less. He delivered a flurry of spanks to the seat of her jeans, every stinging smack sending a fiery message to Chastity’s ass. Hard slaps rained down upon her jeans-clad butt, then a volley of firm smacks landed on her now stinging backside in quick succession.

“Roland! Please! I’m sorry!” Chastity sobbed. Roland swatted her bum over and over, until Chastity felt truly sorry for herself. She was sobbing and crying as Roland reached for an old wooden hairbrush, brought it down hard on Chastity’s trembling behind, and administered a sound bottom beating to her denim-clad ass, delivering a series of botty-trembling swats to the seat of her jeans. Roland didn’t let up, he knew he was warming her backside considerably. Soon Chastity was feeling very warm and tingly. Roland surveyed his target, then rapidly gave the undercurve of her butt his full attention. He finished it off with several whacks, right on the centre of her seat. When it was over, a sobbing Chastity was sporting a very well-spanked derriere. And she knew it. Her ass hurt.

“I’ll never wet myself again, I promise!” Chastity wailed. Roland spanked hard and fast and her hand flew back to clutch her throbbing sit-upon, but Roland caught it. Then he pulled down her wet jeans, exposing her even wetter pants. Chastity’s face cheeks turned as red as her ass. Roland was getting a full view of her dripping panties! Her pee-soaked underwear was exposed. He smirked as he gave Chastity a botty-swelling paddling to the seat of her dripping panties. He pelted her rump with the brush, spanking her soundly over her knickers. Her sorry ass was really getting it. Roland warmed up her derriere good and proper, and Chastity could feel her butt getting hotter with every smack.

Roland peeled off the undies, smirking at the sight of Chastity’s rosy red cheeks. Chastity gasped out loud – a man was seeing her bare backside! This wasn’t supposed to happen until her wedding night, yet he was getting an unparalleled, rosy view of her bouncing full moon.
“No, please no, not on my bare butt!” Chastity pleaded, but Roland was intent on teaching her naughty ass a hard lesson. Roland’s brush tickled her ass a warm, rosy red. Chastity cried with pain and embarrassment. Here she was, getting her bare bottom spanked for wetting herself. Worse, her naked ass was being exposed to a boy. What would her daddy say?

Roland delivered a series of short, sharp shocks to Chastity’s reddening rear end, confident that it would be a long while before she contemplated going to the bathroom in her pants again. He was intent on building a fire in her ass that she wouldn’t soon forget. Again and again the brush landed on her swelling bottom, and Chastity was bawling like a baby, wishing she could hold her burning butt.  Roland grinned at the bright red glow of Chastity’s cheeks. Her naughty backside looked like a red traffic light. Chastity howled as Roland turned his attention to her sizzling sit-spots, making sure Chastity’s rear was nicely roasted. Chastity squirmed as he paid special attention to her sit-spots, peppering her tender bummy with solid smacks. The brush gave her sit spots another fiery tickle, and her bottom blazed with heat. He was paying special attention to where Chastity sat, because she sure wasn’t going to be sitting down anytime soon. Roland was going to roast her rear for her. He gave several whacks to the centre of her heating hiney, then Roland unleashed his brush all over Chastity’s upturned butt, turning it fire-engine red. The now scarlet-bottomed girl was crying hard; all she could think of was reaching back to comfort her flaming ass.  It felt like her bum was actually on fire.

“Please, I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” she wailed.

“Oh, you will,” smirked Roland, as he firmly applied the brush, “I’m quite sure you’ll be a very good girl, at least until you can sit on your sitting area.”
Roland laid down his brush and took a ping-pong paddle to Chastity’s tail, watching her well-chastised arse rapidly blush a deep, dark red.

“Aaaaahhh! Owwww!” Chastity shrieked, kicking her legs up and down and squirming on Roland’s lap. Roland kept her pinned across his lap, receiving her punishment. She was bucking and screaming as he soundly thrashed her backside. Roland smacked the last vestiges of mischief out of her bum while she hissed with pain. Then he put the paddle on the table and spanked Chastity’s bared bum with his hand. He spanked hard and fast, eliciting more frenzied bawling from the chastised pants wetter. Roland slapped his handprints all over her swollen red ass. Then, proudly, Roland surveyed his handiwork. Chastity’s half moons were no longer the same colour and size as they had been before the spanking. This was one girl who wouldn’t dare take another piss in her pants.

Chastity was still bawling hysterically; she just lay over Roland’s lap, completely exhausted, tears coursing down her face. Gradually, her legs stopped kicking. Roland found the sight of her glowing red ass very comical. Chastity reached back and clasped her red bumcheeks and howled.

Chastity stood up very slowly, both hands clasping her throbbing ass. She rubbed and rubbed her stinging hiney, but it still tingled and felt very warm indeed. She had been transformed into a spanked, hot-bottomed little girl. She didn’t feel twenty, she felt like a spanked little girl who’d just gotten a bare bottom spanking over a man’s knee. Chastity cried as she hopped around the kitchen rubbing her throbbing asscheeks. “I’m sorry, Roland,” she sobbed, “I’ll never wet myself again, not ever!” Very gently, Chastity cupped her aching arse, giving her bright red bum a loving squeeze. She cradled her dark red sit-spots.

A few minutes later, Chastity was standing in the corner rubbing her naked, colourful bum. Her wet pants and jeans had been pulled down to her ankles and her freshly spanked derriere was on full display. Her tomato-hued ass was covered in strawberry-coloured handprints, sit-spots as red as a pair of cherries. Roland took another photograph. Chastity exhibiting her red, spanked behind was literally the picture of humiliation. Her head was hung in shame, fingers soothing the blaze in her rear.

He enjoyed the view for a few more minutes before leaving the room, letting her change in privacy. He’d picked the outfit – his house, his rules, he’d told her. There were pink, full-brief, childish-looking knickers, a white miniskirt, and a pink frilly kid’s top. Chastity emerged from the room, her breasts bursting out of the little top and her red ass hanging out of the skirt. Her face cheeks were as red as her ass cheeks. How shameful to have wet her pants in front of a boy and then been spanked over his lap – on her bare bottom! The reddened bottom that even now was on view, thanks to the tiny skirt.

“My, my,” smirked Roland, “Who thought you were such a bad little slut? Look, your butt is saying hello under your skirt; look at your boobs! I thought a spanking would have taught you better.”

 
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Posted by on August 4, 2012 in The 7 Nights

 

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Kemet 2: Revenge chapter 1

Kemet 2: Chapter One

I woke up, an hour earlier than I’d intended, if the night skulking around the fringes of the desert was anything to go by. The clothes I’d carefully selected last night lay in a heap on the cow-shaped couch; I dressed quickly, pulling the black coverall over my outfit. Minimal jewellery that could be used to identify myself to others, or easily discarded if I desired anonymity. Boots with a low heel that could grip sand and masonry, the leather ties crisscrossing over the cloth to end in a knot below my knee, the cloth spilling slightly over the thongs. I flexed my fingers in my driving gloves; they barely covered my hands but provided a lot of grip. I knew I’d need it. My hair was simply braided so I would not be recognisable from afar; the gold hair clasps and most of the jewels were removed the night before. A leather band pushed my braids behind my ears except for a couple which hung down, obscuring my telltale ear piercings; I’d removed some of the more ostentatious jewellery but the gaping holes seemed to scream luxury. I did my make-up by the light of the oil lamps – after all, if I was seen, I wanted to look good doing it, didn’t I? I pushed my gold amulets onto my arms; shielded by the black cloth, they would protect me. I twirled before the full-length mirror, dancing with my reflection as she grinned back, pouting at me and shimmying happily behind the bronze. Then I checked my weapons; a knife in my boot, double-edged dagger in my belt. Oh, and the one inside the leather cuff tied to my left wrist. Just in case. I wouldn’t be needing them. The climbing knives hung in a small sack from my belt, next to the other bag with the magic powder in it. “When you look into this mirror again, it will be a few hours later and you will have had your revenge,” I told myself. The prickling thrill was beginning to roll over my skin; I took deep breaths of cool night air. I ran to the window, leaped out and slid down the rope, landing perfectly in the mahogany-coloured chariot. He was one of my favourites; Sekhmet’s Fire was his name, and he was the fastest and most manoeuvrable, though of course had little adornment on his body. My favourite ride Challenger 3, being made of gold, was too recognisable and heavy for a stealth mission. Taking the firebox and oil jar from the box on the seat, I set up a plume of smoke on the grass. An answering plume ascended some miles distant before I stamped it out. I jumped back into Fire, flicked the reins and the two horses, grumbling a little in their own language, started to trot. I wished I could have used my fastest horse, Charger, but he wasn’t trained to pull; instead, I’d had him stationed near the border in case I had need of him on the way back. Not that I would unless Fire was taken while I carried out my mission. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen, because then Nefertiti might find out. As the horses began to gallop over the plain, completely invisible in the receding blackness, I remembered the last time I’d seen him. It had been a cool day and so me, Hora and Terkan had been messing about in the sun, driving around aimlessly in the desert. We raced each other for a while, and using Sekhmet’s Fire’s agility, I could easily cut in front of them and weave circles around them. Terkan picked up his water skin and threw a jet of water right in Hora’s round face, and I laughed so hard I had to brake and come to a halt; Hora nearly crashed into me, blinking water out of his eyes.  We had come to a narrow, shallow gorge not far from the palace. “I could jump that in Sekhmet’s Fire,” I said instantly. “No you couldn’t!” Hora said with certainty, peering gingerly at the depths. “Dare me,” I smirked, looking over at him. “No, it’s too dangerous!” Terkan snapped, ruffling up his hair, which hung down touching the beaded collar around his neck; some sand fell out over his red tunic. The herbs must have succeeded in softening his hair, because his fingers didn’t get caught in the curls. I wondered what I would look like with straighter hair. Hora was frowning into the distance, shielding his eyes with a muscled arm. “Look, there’s a dust cloud coming our way, maybe it’s a messenger from Ay. Maybe something happened.” The cloud disappeared. “A dust storm?” I wondered, pulling the cloth around my neck back over my mouth and nose.

“Anyway, I totally could jump that gorge if I wanted to.” “It’s impossible!” Hora exclaimed. “Yeah, I bet you,” said Terkan. “No, wait, Hora should bet you.” Hora was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I don’t think you should do it,” he muttered, scuffling his sandals in the cracked earth. “Yeah, you’re crazy,” said Terkan, “We’re still a little way from help, what would we do if you got seriously hurt? It would take time to drive you all the way back.” “I just want to prove I can do it,” I shrugged. “Anyway it’s not a long way down, I won’t get hurt.” “You wouldn’t bet ‘Fire on it,” Hora challenged. “I would,” I said coolly, in my international-relations voice. “What do you want if you win?” I dismounted ‘Fire and strolled over to his chariot, climbed inside and whispered in his ear. “Well, okay,” he giggled, looking demurely at the wood beneath him, “I’m not that kind of man, I don’t put out like that. But there’s no way you will make it over so I guess, yeah, I’ll bet that.” “That sounds pretty much like a win-win situation for you,” I pointed out. “And you weren’t always a nice boy.” “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again,” he mumbled, staring at the red jewel in my belly button. I adjusted the thick straps of my sand-coloured top, savouring the quick darting of his eyes as my breasts moved. It was so amusing how I could play him like this. I touched the hilt of the dagger around my waist and instantly his eyes followed my fingers; I knew he could see the shape of my hips under my red skirt. “But it happened once, my fallen man,” I smiled, pinching his cheek. He was slightly darker than me, but I’m sure I had never blushed so fetchingly. I dismounted his chariot, strode over to ‘Fire, wheeled around in a wide arc and galloped full tilt at the gorge. I was flying! Wheels spun through air. The lip of the gorge was far – too far. The crevasse was much wider than it had appeared – I was falling-the ochre floor rushed up and slammed into Fire. Smashed wood burst apart in a creaking explosion as I was flung into the rocks. Slowly I crawled over the dusty rocks, trying to stand and then falling as I groped towards the wall of the gorge. I clambered up the pitted rock, scrabbling for handholds, urged on by the voices which called out suggestions about which rocks to put my hands on, until hands pulled me up over the lip and I was lying on the soil. Someone rolled me over onto my back and Hora’s face appeared, peering anxiously into my eyes. There was a ringing in my ears.  Relief settled around me; I was out of the gorge. “You’re not feeling dizzy or anything?” asked Terkan, kneeling beside me. I shook my head, sat up and extended both arms-they were bruised but not badly. Terkan was saying something about using a rope to haul Fire out and dragging Fire behind one of the other chariots. Heat suddenly swept over me. I was shivering and panting. Hora put his arm around my shoulders. “It’s shock,” said Terkan, “We’d better get her back quick. Leave Fire, we’ll send people to pick him up later.” Hora’s eyes widened and Terkan turned round – a swathe of sand was flying up as a chariot braked, slewing to one side. Hora’s hand went to the dagger in the leather strap over his red cloth belt. Nefertiti jumped out, his straight hair whipping round his shoulders, soft opaque swathes of blue barely covering the pale but sensuous curves of his body. The way the cloth billowed then fell back, almost exposing his hidden charms every moment but never quite managing to do so, was hypnotic. The sun glanced off the gold around his neck. “H-How…? What are you doing here?” asked Hora, looking up at him. “I followed you,” Nefertiti stated. “I knew Fiera was going to do something stupid. She was talking about jumping the gorge a few days ago.” That was his pet name for me, from my name Kheferura. He strode over to me and knelt, exposing a lot of bare thigh, and examined the bruises on my arms, lifting my skirt and tracing the scratches and grazes on my legs. He ran his fingers lightly over the flatness of my bruised stomach as Hora and Terkan looked away, and muttered angrily to himself about typical female stupidity. As he lifted my arm, I saw the black thickness of my left side and grimaced, then an image of Fire, my Fire, shattered and broken rose behind my eyes. “Look at you!” Nefertiti snapped, “You’re covered in bruises. And for what? To jump over that gap in the ground? What’s the point of that?” “To prove I could do it,” I mumbled. His voice had a hard edge to it and I felt close to tears; a burning ache was growing all over me as the initial shock faded. “You could have been killed!” he yelled. The exotic thinness of his perfect lips were twisted in fury. He looked even taller from where I was sitting, half his face in the shadow of the acacia. I wiped my eyes. I knew he was right. “What if the chariot hadn’t absorbed most of the shock? What if you’d hit your head? And you two,” he raised his voice, “Encouraging her! This is-” “It’s not their fault,” I sniffed. “I wanted to do it.” Nefertiti helped me up and I walked stiffly, painfully over to his blue chariot Skychaser. He sat down on Skychaser’s floor, gold-coloured shoes firmly planted on the packed earth. “For your childish behaviour, you’re going to get a childish punishment,” he pronounced. “I’m going to spank you.”

I stared at Nefertiti, my mouth hanging open like an idiot. Hora giggled nervously, running a hand through his cropped curls. “I’m not a child! You can’t do that!” I gasped out. “You certainly deserve a spanking,” he stated evenly. “So you are going to be spanked.” I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I felt heat rise in my cheeks. He grabbed my wrist- I tugged myself away and stumbled, thrashing over the sand. Nefertiti’s slender but wiry arms slid around my narrow waist and he pushed me down slowly – my legs gave way under his weight and we crumpled in a heap on the ground. He was sitting on top of me. I punched him in his perfect face. He didn’t move, but his eyes bored into me over his high cheekbones. I went to punch him again but he flicked his head and I missed- his hair tossed and fell back into strands over his neck, in the way it always did. Nefertiti pushed down on my shoulders, his heavily ringed hands pinning me to the ground. “Don’t,” he said calmly, “You are trained in combat, don’t forget. If you attack me you might hurt me and I’ll be forced to hit you back. And I don’t want to do that because you’re already hurt.” I struggled but he was too heavy – I couldn’t wriggle or push him off me. “You can’t spank me, it’s not fair!!” I yelled. Still grasping my forearms, Nefertiti slid off me so he was kneeling on the sand, then rolled me over onto my tummy. I turned my head and saw his arm descend on the back of my skirt-it hurt enough to make me gasp a little – another smack landed instantly, then a succession of hard rapid swats. “I’m too old to be spanked!” I pleaded. He only smacked me harder, landing each spank on the same spot in the centre of my bottom. I wriggled and kicked desperately, clawing at the sand, but by the feel of it his knee was in the small of my back and I couldn’t get away. I blushed furiously knowing that Hora and Terkan were seeing me get spanked like a naughty child. “It’s not f-fair!” I sobbed, uselessly. Nefertiti started smacking me all over my butt so I didn’t know where the next slap would fall. Heat was building in my rear and both my buttcheeks were tingling all over. The sun was burning my head and I could hear the sound of his hand pounding into my rear; I was crying but he did not slow his pace. My behind was stinging and warming up.

“Come on, that’s enough,” Hora  said anxiously, “Can’t you see you’re hurting her?” “Not enough, I’m afraid,” he sighed, “And the spanking will do her a world of good. Go and break a small branch off that tree, will you?” “Noooo!! I HATE YOU!!” I wailed. Another smack made me squeal. “You’re not going to beat her bottom with it, though?” “No. Of course not.” “Right.” I heard the crunching of his footsteps die away. “I hate you!” I screamed, “I’ll never speak to you again!” The sand was dark and wet with my tears but he still kept spanking, alternating between each side of my butt. I started to feel frightened of the worse pain to come; I was crying hard already and fiery heat prickled over my backside. Then Nefertiti’s hand slammed down on my sit spot, again and again. “I’m sorry!” I sobbed but the smacks continued to pelt my defenceless butt. I lay still, then threw myself forward but the fingers gripped my arm tighter. The knee drove me further into the sand. A flurry of spanks landed all over my bottom, then he resumed heating my sit spot.  Then the rhythm changed and the smacks became slower and even harder, eliciting yelps and cries of pain no matter how hard I tried to remain stoic.

Suddenly the knee lifted and his shadow moved over me. I was free. I clambered slowly to my feet, rubbing my smarting and now very sore behind. I wiped my face with the sandcloth round my neck. “It’s not over,” he said gently, “But you are only going to get it worse if you don’t submit. Now come over to Skychaser and I’ll finish spanking you, and it’ll be more comfortable that way.” He brushed the dust off my clothes.

I nodded, turning to follow, then I jumped into the air and planted a firm kick in his back. He groaned and fell onto the ground and I was off, stumbling as fast as I could toward Skychaser – I jumped in, flicked the reins and was trotting away. Nefertiti leapt into the chariot and yanked the reins as I jumped out, rolling as I hit the dirt, and ran painfully in the direction of Hora’s ride. Nefertiti brought Skychaser to an abrupt stop, ran over to me and picked me up, cradling me in his arms. “Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry!” I gasped out. “I’m not going to hurt you, you silly little bratling. I’m just going to teach you not to endanger your life doing stupid stunts.” I felt a sense of creeping dread for my already hot butt as he carried me over to Skychaser and sat on the chariot’s floor. He pulled me over his lap as I wriggled desperately, trying to extricate myself from his grasp. The blue swathes that somehow revealed far more than they concealed felt as smooth as silks beneath my tummy. Terkan was just standing there, gawping at us. I wished he would go away. Nefertiti pulled up my skirt and bared my bottom. “What are you doing?!” I shrieked, “You can’t spank me bare! You – you just can’t! Not in front of them!” “You committed an act of sheer stupidity in front of your friends, so you can get your bare behind spanked in front of them too.” In a gentler tone, he added “They won’t think any the worse of you for it.”

“I’m not looking!” Hora called from up in the tree, disentangling a branch from his green kilt. “Yeah, we’re not looking,” said Terkan, turning his back to us. He glanced over his shoulder, met my gaze, and quickly turned his head back round. Hora gave me an encouraging little smile, and clambered carefully along a bough. “Please don’t,” I pleaded hopelessly, “I won’t ever do it again, I promise!” Nefertiti slapped my rear firmly, paused, and spanked slowly, rhythmically, every smack surprisingly hard, leaving a fiery tingle behind as his hand lifted. Fresh tears were forced out of my eyes and I started to cry openly as my butt heated up with stinging pain. “Nef, it hurts!” I wailed. A series of firm, paced swats heated my rear. “It really hurts!” I sobbed out, “Please stop, if you love me you won’t hurt me.” “It’s supposed to hurt. And I’m only spanking you because I love you.”

The spanking continued, more intense than ever, and I waggled my tail from side to side in a futile effort to escape the swats. The spanks thudded down like my behind was a drum and he was beating out the slow dooms to set the pace before the dancers begin their unearthly undulations. Hora came over, pleading with Nefertiti that I’d learned my lesson, and I wondered how I looked to him, getting spanked on my bare behind over Nef’s knee. Heat rose in my face as I imagined how babyish I must look. Then I heard Nefertiti coldly demand the tree branch. Hora refused, but in between the sound of his palm on my naked bottom, I heard Nefertiti’s soft persuasive lips framing words. Then suddenly the spanks were blows raining down hard and fast as I begged him to stop, each whack of the branch felt much heavier than his hand. The heat in my rear swelled to a fiery tingling that made me howl in pain. “I can’t take it no more, it’s too sore,” I wailed, barely able to speak. Still spanking, Nefertiti lifted my chin and looked at my face. “Well, I hope this teaches you not to be so reckless. And you’re lucky I don’t turn your bottom blue to match the rest of you!” he snapped. I could swear I detected a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice. He walloped the branch into my butt over and over. I bawled as he thrashed me and threw myself from side to side. My legs were scissoring the air and I no longer even cared that Hora and Terkan were watching; I just cried without restraint, as babies cry, and forgot the world – there was only Nefertiti’s branch and me, and nothing else. The spanking went on and on, no pause, no change of rhythm, and I could hear myself bawling. Gradually the smacks became slower, lighter, subsiding to gentle taps, and I was drawn into a sitting position, my buns burning as they scraped over the cloth and took the settling of my weight on them. Nefertiti ran his hand through my braids, stroking my hot head, and I laid my head on his shoulder, crying it all out and grateful that the spanking was over. “There, there baby,” he said softly into my ear, “You’ll remember not to be reckless now, won’t you. Or I’ll tan your hide again.” I cried into his shoulder as he rocked me. My hand strayed to my fiercely stinging rump but his fingers closed on it gently and guided my hand away, letting it drop into place over my stomach. He looked down into my eyes. “If you rub your bottom, I will spank you again.” I nodded miserably, more tears slipping out from under my lids. Nefertiti held me until my crying had subsided to mere weeping, and stood up, still holding me, and carefully deposited me on my tummy in Skychaser’s backseat.

Then he left to help the others tow Fire out of the gorge. I closed my eyes against Amon-Ra’s glare and rubbed my aching buttcheeks, wondering what He thought of Nefertiti spanking me. Nefertiti had thoughtfully left a waterskin next to me; I checked to make sure he was busy climbing into the gorge, then poured the wonderful coolness all over my hot butt. I sighed happily as the hot ache receded. I watched as Nefertiti clambered out of the gorge holding one end of a rope, which Terkan tied to the axle of Hora’s chariot. There was a horrible grinding noise as Hora raced off, then Fire came bounding wildly over the lip of the gorge and Hora wheeled round, slowing as he came to a rest behind Skychaser.

He stepped out and grinned at me, touching my bare butt and rubbing it slowly, teasing me. “You won’t get to sleep with me,” he said proudly, rubbing in a circular motion, his fingertips on my sit spots somehow waking my hot labia to a throbbing excitement. I pulled at the knot on his belt. Suddenly a shadow fell over me and Nefertiti smacked me very hard on my helpless bared butt. “What do you think you are doing? How dare you!” he shouted, “Hora is a just a boy – a virgin! And you would do all sorts of things to that boy. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” he added gently, looking at Hora, who nodded, his eyes shining with secret delight. “He started it! He was asking for it!” I exclaimed. Nefertiti smacked my bottom three times and tears trickled down my cheeks. He leaned over and took something from one of the compartments at the front of the chariot, hiding it behind his back. “Enough of your excuses. Hora would never do anything like that. I see I’m going to have to spank you for taking advantage of an inexperienced boy and making him do things to you. I should never have left him alone with you.” “No! No! It’ll hurt so much!” I sobbed despairingly. “And it wasn’t like that at all!” “Or perhaps Hora should spank you,” Nefertiti mused.

“What?!!” I yelped. “You can’t do that!!” “Sit down, and spank her over your lap,” said Nefertiti encouragingly. Not for the first time, I was contemplating having him executed. A shy but smirking Hora came into Skychaser and Nefertiti pulled me up so Hora could sit on the bench. “It’s not fair! It’s not what you think!” I whined hopelessly. They manoeuvred me over his lap. “Hora, tell him!” I wept. My heart was pounding with anxiety but I knew better than to try to resist. My knees were on the seat, feet waving in the air over the edge of Skychaser’s body. I felt so helpless and it was most humiliating, lying over his lap with my bare red butt sticking up. I wondered what he was thinking as he looked down at me. “Hora, HOW CAN YOU? This is SO UNFAIR!!” I screamed. He rubbed my back gently. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea…” he muttered. “Well, either you do it or I will. I know more than anyone how much she needs a few swats to her naughty behind for this kind of behaviour,” said Nefertiti. Hora pulled my skirt up a little and a smack hit the middle of my ass. I burned with shame. “Nef, this is so humiliating!” I whimpered. “It isn’t dignified – ow!” I yelped as Hora smacked my bottom. “- or appropriate – he’s my general – owwwww!!” “Well, it should bring you down a peg or two to be spanked by your own general,” Nefertiti observed, “And the humiliation she feels now will ensure the safety of your innocence, Hora.”

Hora began to spank, softly at first, the slaps getting faster and harder and going on and on as if he would never tire. He wasn’t spanking as hard as Nefertiti but the rhythm was relentless and measured, the loud smacks falling to the soft sound of Nefertiti’s low, sweet voice counting. After twenty smacks had fallen I was squirming, begging them both for mercy. The counting and spanking didn’t stop. Hora didn’t change his rhythm or concentrate on different areas of my bottom; instead, his hand was flying everywhere, meting out punishment to every stinging spot. “He’s not even a virgin!” I groaned, as hot tears streamed down my face. I was sobbing hard, then crying loudly as Hora’s heavy hand landed on my buns again and again. My feet were kicking by themselves as I cried. “That’s it,” Nefetiti nodded, “She needs her bottom blistered, so roast her rump for her. Teach that cute little rear a hard lesson. You’re doing great.” “Hora, stop it, please!” I begged, but the spanking just went on and on, feeding the fiery prickling in my bottom. I turned my head and looked at Nefertiti; surely he would tell Hora I’d had enough? He would, wouldn’t he…any second now… “Nefertiti! I didn’t – I’m sorry! Make him stop!” His face remained impassive. “It’s up to Hora when he wants to stop. My, isn’t your bum getting red.” Hora’s palm crashed onto my swollen cheeks monotonously. He was strong. Those muscles were really getting put to good use on my well-chastised butt. How could he go on for so long without changing rhythm? I almost preferred the harder swats that Nefertiti had given me. As Nefertiti announced “fifty,” Hora stopped suddenly.

The wild stinging burned on but the noise of the smacks had stopped completely. “Well,” stated Hora, as if delivering a military report, “I thrashed most of the naughtiness out of her backside.” Nefertiti bent his head to inspect my behind. “A job well done,” he conceded after several moments, “That is a well-disciplined butt. This should serve as a reminder and you will be safe from her advances. However, I think to be on the safe side, you had better take my scarlet-bottomed girl on another trip over your knee. We wouldn’t want your reputation compromised, after all. I certainly could never forgive myself if you lost your good name, and your virtue, in her bed.” Hora’s fingers tightened on my wrist and a barrage of swats smashed into my tingling ass; a short but very humiliating spanking was applied to my defenceless buttcheeks. Twenty smacks rained down on my behind and I squealed aloud and shrieked at each one, bucking over Hora’s lap, legs flailing wildly in the air. I was crying in real earnest, intense sobs wracking my whole body as I thrashed around over his lap. The urge to rub, just to soothe the fiery stinging even for a few seconds was so strong – I clasped my butt- Hora ripped my hand away and landed several stinging swats on exactly the same spot. Then he continued pounding my behind with his palm until I couldn’t even tell when one spank ended and another began. I threw my head back and howled. I writhed around uselessly. Then there were no more spanks. I dared lift my head a little and look at Nefertiti. Nefertiti gently examined my bottom with his fingertips. Hora waited with bated breath for the verdict, as if it were news of a triumph or defeat. “Now, that is a thoroughly punished little bum. I think Fiera has learned a painful lesson about trying to corrupt good boys.” He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “You have your way with the whores and leave the nice men alone, or you will be saying sorry over my knee if you touch Hora again. How would he ever be able to look his father in the face again, if he came home without his virginity? A man’s virginity is precious. It’s all he has and you’ve no right stealing it. Queen or not, Tari, you will have a spanked butt if you try anything.” He slapped my rear and let go of my chin. Hora patted my head, kissed me on the forehead and eased me off his lap. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. And Terkan must have seen absolutely everything; my tears, my bare butt. I sobbed hard into my hands and Hora slid his thick arm around my shoulders. He rubbed my behind, his fingers soothing and almost cool on my sizzling skin. “Don’t, or she won’t learn anything,” said Nefertiti. “But look, her butt is all red,” Hora mused, “What if she can’t sit down?” “Well, she should have thought of that beforehand. Shouldn’t you, Fiera? Besides, I came over here to punish you for resisting me earlier, anyway; don’t look at me like that, I told you you would get it worse if you didn’t submit.” “Nef, please no!” I wailed, burying my face in Nefertiti’s shoulder. He gripped my slender wrists and held me away from him, looking down his pointy nose at me. His eyes were level with mine even though I was standing in Skychaser. “I could have you put in the dungeons for this,” I sobbed. His hold on me meant I couldn’t even rub. He spoke slowly, clearly. “Go and kneel on the ground with your top half on Skychaser’s floor. Now.” I nodded miserably, tears spotting the wooden floor. Nefertiti let my hands drop and they flew to my butt and squeezed it tight. My side was still aching from the crash but it was nothing compared to the stinging agony in my butt.

Hands still clasped to my bottom, I forced my feet to step, once, twice, three times, and with Hora steadying me I stepped onto the dry soil. My legs were shaking. Nefertiti was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his lips pursed – a pomegranate slash in his impossibly pale face. Still gorgeous, though, even if he was mean. I gave him a pleading look. His left hand was behind his back. My behind tingled just at the thought of what he was holding. “Do it, lion cub,” he said sternly. Slowly, I turned round, squatting and then kneeling on the hot ground. I looked back. Nefertiti was tapping his foot on the ground. Terkan had an anxious expression on his face; next to him Hora appeared stocky and shorter than he actually was. He was grinning awkwardly. I laid my arms on the chariot’s floor and shuffled my knees closer to it until my chest and stomach were supported by the wood. Nefertiti’s footsteps drummed on the soil and my skirt was yanked and folded over my back, leaving my bare bottom exposed and sticking up in the air. I felt very vulnerable. My butt was completely unprotected and at Nefertiti’s mercy, and I had no idea what torments he had in store for it. His feet withdrew a few paces. I could see the wooden boxes and slots that had been nailed into Skychaser’s corners; one of them was overflowing with dates that were filling the air with their rotting perfume. There was make-up in one of the other boxes, a dagger in another, along with a hunting knife – but something was missing. My stomach lurched and my heart missed a beat. I turned my head round and Nefertiti was smirking at me, obviously reading my mind. He drew his left hand forward and the long, brown whip uncoiled itself over the ground. “You’re going to get twenty. And you’re going to count them in my birth-language, the tongue of the lands beyond the Sea. And if you jump out of position or don’t count or mis-count, I’m going to start from ‘one’ again. Ready?” I just stared at the wicked length and thickness of the whip. He can’t! He won’t use that on my bum, will he? Not my own Nefertiti? I shook my head.

He raised his arm and slashed the whip down on my behind. It sizzled across my cheeks and I shrieked and jumped, lurching forward. I lay there tensed, waiting for the next one, salty tears flowing over my lips. “The next one is ‘one’, Fiera,” he said, almost tenderly. There was a cracking whoosh as a line of fire laid itself over my butt, much harsher than the first. I howled and jumped a little but instantly pushed myself back into position. “O-One,” I gasped, then quickly “One,” in his language. I risked another look over my shoulder. Nefertiti nodded and drew back his arm, Amon-Ra’s light catching his bangles. I glanced at my behind; it was mostly dark red, with a few bright reds still visible near the small of my back. Usually there wasn’t even a scrape or pimple back there; lotions and ground herb paste kept the rounded cheeks smooth and soft. Another crack landed on my pampered rear and woke an agony in my sit spots; I sobbed “Two” and stretched out my hands, gripping the far edge of Skychaser’s floor to stop myself squeezing the pain out of my butt. The next stripe made the throbbing flare up in the centre of my bum and I could barely say “Three,” through the sobs that were heaving through my whole body. The whip landed on my butt yet again, a pulsing pain that raged over my skin and I jerked up, my hands clutching my cheeks. I bent forward a little, massaging the seared flesh, little trickles of relief going through me as I held my bottom almost lovingly. I flopped down on the wood, crying uncontrollably. “Four,” I sobbed out, but it didn’t sound intelligible and I worried that Nefertiti would discount it. “You moved, Tari. The next one is ‘one’. And push your little tushie up, yeah, up and out like a good baby girl.” I felt so mortified I wanted to die. But I pushed my bottom up, like it was begging for more. Crack. “O-One,” I wailed. “Use your hand. Just bang on the wood to count,” Nefertiti ordered. Crack. My palm hit the floor twice. Another slice of the whip ignited a blaze that rolled over the entire surface of my backside. Hold still. Hold still. Three times, this time with a fist. The fourth stroke made me yell out more loudly than ever, but I pounded the wood as I screamed. I stayed hunched in position. There was a puddle of tears soaking into the wood. Amon-Ra’s warmth touched my shoulders gently. The fifth did not change anything; maybe my butt was now numb. The sixth and seventh kept my rear flaming but I didn’t really feel them. Hope dared surge through me; maybe I was going to be able to do this. The eighth and ninth landed in quick succession and suddenly I saw Quinox’s plump face laughing down at me as a hot pain seared across my butt – Zannanzah was there now, sneering as he took the whip and raised his arm- “Tari!” a voice yelled. I jumped and looked up. The sky was the most stunning blue. “Tari!” the voice screamed again. It was Nefertiti’s voice, and I twisted round. My heart was racing. I held my burning behind. “The next one is ‘one’. And that serves you right for refusing to count. You knew what would happen.” I nodded with a kind of despair. Let’s just get it over with. I kept slapping the wood after each stroke, and after an eternity of lying there with a fire in my butt it was number nineteen and although I was still crying hard for all to see, I knew it was going to end soon. I rapped out the number slowly and the last stroke fell; I heard the noise but it could have missed me completely for all I was aware; the burning neither intensified nor waned. I tapped the wood, crying with relief more than pain now.

“My poor darling,” Nefertiti whispered, and he was right beside me now, kneeling. His hand was stroking my back, the whip was all bunched up in his other fist. “You only counted nineteen. The next one is ‘one’, but I won’t make you count them.” I felt like he’d just punched me in the stomach. I tried to move but he pushed down on my back and landed all twenty whacks in less than a minute, almost before I knew what was happening. It was an intense burning, intensifying every moment until it became unbearable. I just stayed frozen, completely in shock at the cracks that had just thudded down on my rear, my bottom a mass of frenzied prickling, like a flame was being held to my butt. Nefertiti helped me up slowly, laid his cool palm against my forehead and said “Okay, I think you’re alright. Now bend over and put your hands on the wood. This isn’t a punishment for resisting me, this is something you earned for that stunt.”

I obeyed, shaking even more now. I willed myself to stay in that  most embarrassing position, yearning to escape and hold my throbbing cheeks. Wasn’t this ever going to end? “Fiera, you could have been killed,” Nefertiti said tensely, slapping my butt with his hand. “You could have been injured.” Smack. “You could have been crippled.” Smack. “You could have ended up unconscious.” Smack. “You were very lucky, but even with that amount of luck you are still bruised, and you’re going to be sore for days. You won’t be able to do the fun things you love, like go hunting or fishing and practise martial arts or swordfighting. I don’t even know if you’ll be up to driving around. So do you think it was worth it?” Smack. I shook my head. “And just think, if you hadn’t done such a silly thing, you wouldn’t have been spanked,” he continued in a gentler voice. He bunched up the whip again and thwacked it down on my ass. I yelped; he whacked me again and I squealed again, the cries melding into one as he beat my butt. The fiery pain swelled until I couldn’t bear it and I bawled and screamed; the torment was endless and I kept jumping slightly out of position. I wanted to tell him to stop, that I couldn’t cope with it, but all I could do was wail my humiliation and pain to the desert. Then it remained at that level – my butt was numb again – or at least smarting all over so much that I couldn’t register any new pain. It hurt so much, I didn’t know what was better – the numbness or feeling the spanks. The blaze blocked everything else from my mind. I clutched at my cheeks with both hands. The sound of the bundled whip on my ass was silenced and my fingers were prised off, finger by finger, until the whooshing and whacking noise signalled the return of the whip. The noise rose and fell to the beat of the sun on the desert, the sloughing of the dry wind as it sighed at the coolness of the day. Nefertiti rubbed my back and I realised he must have stopped spanking me but the heat back there felt like I was still being spanked. I was still bawling like a child; I tried to control myself and it diminished to a hysterical crying as he lifted me over his shoulder. He swayed from side to side, murmuring soothing words into my ear, and a sort of calm descended on my tired body.  Terkan was staring at me. Nefertiti carried me into Skychaser and laid me on my tummy in the backseat. He held my hand while I cried, and stroked my braids. “You took it well,” he said gently, “I’m proud of you. The worst thing I can imagine is seeing you get hurt. I know what getting spanked and whipped must have reminded you of, but it was what they did to you that made me realise how much I can’t bear seeing you get hurt. That and the stupid escapades you insist on doing of course.” After a few minutes I managed to calm myself a little, but I couldn’t stop the tears. Nefertiti ordered me to kneel on the seat. “And since you like getting good men to touch your naked hiney, you can stay like that until we get within sight of Lukanen,” he added. Nefertiti began rolling up my skirt and tying my belt around the bunched cloth so that my soundly chastised bum was even more clearly displayed. He pulled my underwear down even further. I was crying and rubbing my butt; Nefertiti frowned as I massaged my buns but he didn’t say anything.

Hora was grinning at me from his chariot. Then he looked over at Fire, and I followed his gaze. The wreckage of my beautiful Fire was roped to the back of Hora’s ride. “Poor Fire,” whispered Hora sadly, stroking the little chariot’s splintered curves. “Well, you are mine now. Although,” he added, straightening up, “I really enjoyed watching you get spanked and spanking you. So I think that is payment enough. You and ‘Fire belong together and I couldn’t take him away from you.” The relief must have shown on my face because Nefertiti looked at me and rolled his eyes. Then I felt embarrassed that not only had Hora spanked me bare, he had witnessed the spectacle of Nefertiti doing it, and actually enjoyed it – like it was an entertainment for him. “I’m not laughing at you,” he said quickly, as if reading my thoughts. “It was just cute, that’s all.” “I thought it was cruel and pretty nasty,” said Terkan, looking at the ground. “Think what you will,” Nefertiti said archly, “I’m only trying to protect her from hurting herself.” “I don’t need protecting! It really hurts!” I sobbed. “Fiera, if you want another smack-” Nefertiti threatened. He untied the sandcloth from round my neck and dabbed at my face, then turned back round to face the front. The horses moved and we pulled away.

I knelt on the seat, rubbing my throbbing behind and crying into my hands. That was four days ago. Dawn was sweeping in from the East, chasing Fire’s wheels. The Border was approaching, and I touched my amulets, praying they would not fail; that Amon-Ra would still protect me in the foreign land, that his power could extend over that earth, the territory of the foreign gods. Don’t let me fail. If I must be caught, let me at least do what I came to do.

 

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