by Hall, Denise
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.
“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.”
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.
“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 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 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 worse 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 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.
Master Hutch was given the third set, and the buckles and straps creaked and groaned as the Elite writhed upon the block, sobbing and howling, unable to hold still. Despite his amiable nature, his were not gentle or pitying blows, and pain must have been the whole of her conscious world.
A collective sigh, like a summer breeze, swept through the Assembly Hall when she was given a moment’s reprieve between the third and last dose. Master Wilhite was called down to deliver the final twelve, but not before Mahogany’s face was bathed with cool water and smelling salts were waved beneath her nose to revive her.
Cobb tensed and tightened beneath her as he rocked Mercy’s hips, forcing her to ride him in short, slow strokes, keeping time with the sound of each diabolical cut. They fell with dreadful sound. The harshness reverberating through the closed room, echoed by hoarse, and growing ever hoarser, cries from Mahogany. The jerks of the impacts made it sound as though her contortions shook the block.
"Meeeeeerrrciiiiieeeee-ooooough!"
Cobb found her clit between his fingers, and Mercy came, hard, silent, the convulsions of her cunt milking along the length of his shaft until he, with a soft expulsion of breath, joined her in the throes of pleasure.
The final stroke fell, and Mahogany was almost gone. She panted, making raw grunting sounds. "No more," she called weakly. "No more, Master, I beg you...Ooh!"
Mercy shuddered, wave after wave of sensual pleasure rolled through her, gradually dying away as Cobb whispered, “Good girl. Good girl. He looks ready to kill me.”
He slid out of her with a slickness that seemed betrayingly loud, and Mercy turned her face away from his kiss.
“Master Deaton,” Tane said. “The martinet, if you would.”
“No, please!” Mahogany sobbed.
Mercy shivered, curling back against Cobb as Mahogany rasped her pleas, and the frozen stillness of the room carried her sobs with the same chilling clarity as Tane’s response.
“Remember this the next time you dare think yourself master enough to pass punishment onto another.”
Cobb squeezed his hand one final time over her still clenching sex, then began to fasten himself back into his pants.
“Fifteen strokes,” Tane announced. “Take your time, Master Deaton, and let each one be felt.”
Mercy whimpered, but the sound was lost in the frantically renewed sobs coughed out by the Elite on the block.
“They’re untying her legs,” Cobb whispered in her ear. “They’ll be fastened straight behind her. Deaton likes to stand far enough away that the ends of the whip separate with each stroke. He’ll catch her entire bottom with the first blow, and rip her legs all the way down to her knees with the second.”
Two Demerit sessions with Master Deaton had shown Mercy that the brother of the Mountain Lord had many loves, the majority of which were best expressed with an implement held firmly in the palm of his hand. With the martinet, he was a veritable artist, and Cobb’s admiration shone in his voice as he described the unfolding punishment.
From the moment Deaton combed his fingers through the knotted strands, to the swing of his arm as the many strips whooshing through the air around his head, Mercy listened with every muscle as tense as Mahogany’s must have been. That beastly whip cracked down with a thick sound across what must have been by that time thoroughly martyred flesh. Fifteen times Mercy heard that sound from the cradle of Cobb’s restraining arms, as well as the most dreadful gargling wail as, without any voice left with which to scream, Mahogany still made the valiant effort to try.
When at last it was all over, only the sound of mucusy gasps and voiceless sobs could be heard underlying Tane’s voice as he again lectured the room. “The Drone is off limits. You do not talk to her. You do not touch her. And not even an Elite may presume to be a master and discipline her. Parade her through the room. I want everyone to take a good look at what her fate will be if this rule is ever again disobeyed.”
“She’s bowed over,” Cobb murmured, hot against Mercy’s ear. “The guards have to support her almost entirely; she can barely move. There is nothing of her bottom left but marks of purple and deep, dark red. Her thighs will likely be blue-black by evening. If your eyes weren’t so swollen, I would let you see it. It’s the same condition your bottom will soon be in for daring to lie to a master.”
“I’m sorry,” Mercy trembled.
“You should be.” His hand between her thighs patted her mons twice. “You will be. But not for a day or two yet.”
Mercy swallowed hard. She felt Master Cobb move beside her. “Over here,” he called out and stumbling shuffle of feet approached their spot at the back of the room.
“Beg forgiveness of the one you wronged,” Cobb said.
A wet drop splashed across Mercy’s bare foot and she jumped, turning her head and listening intently.
A whispered, “I’m sorry,” rasped from a throat screamed raw an instant before the kiss of warm, wet lips tremblingly touched her toes.
Even knowing she would be punished for it, Mercy grabbed at her blindfold, yanking up high enough so that she could peer through her lashes at Mahogany. The Elite was held bowed on the floor before her, her arms held by the two guards that had paraded her through the room. She was covered in sweat. Her nose was running, her face was red, and her eyes, when she raised her head to glare at Mercy, burned into her with a hatred that made her shake.
“Try again,” Cobb commanded. “Beg her forgiveness, and this time mean it.”
The hatred flared in Mahogany’s red-rimmed eyes an instant before she lowered them to stare at the floor.
What she rasped, Mercy could barely distinguish as words, but she hastily blurted, “You’re forgiven,” and yanked her foot back lest the vindictive Elite be made to kiss it again.
The guards lifted Mahogany and helped her, stumbling and continuously making that horrible, gargling groan, her legs barely able to move one foot in front of the other, from the room. Mercy got more than a passing glimpse of the proud woman’s cruelly whipped backside and legs. She was all purple, streaked with near black-colored blood welts. It would be weeks before her skin was white again, and in the places where the birch and martinet had cut her, there might possibly be even scars.
Shaken, when Mahogany finally disappeared out the door, Mercy snapped her head back around to seek out Shipe upon the dais, but she froze when she saw every Lesser in the room staring back at her. Not merely ostracized anymore; now she was despised.
“Eyes forward,” Master Deaton boomed from the front of the room, and as obedient as puppets, they put their backs to her.
“You’re being naughty, Mercy,” Cobb said, as he took the blindfold from her fingers. He tugged it firmly back down over her aching eyes.
Chapter Nine
Master Cobb didn’t have the same spa
cious quarters as Shipe did. His were more cluttered and the closet too full to empty into a room for Mercy. Instead, a makeshift barrack-for-one was created for her in the cleaning closet directly across the hall and right next to the entrance of the Pit. She got a real bed, though. A nice cot beneath her that was certainly softer than a mattress on the floor.
The extra comfort went a long way towards making up for the spilled-cleanser smell of her new room, although there wasn’t a lot that it could do for the dreadful loneliness of having to sleep alone. Cobb made nightly appearances, but even that felt different. The pleasure was muted somehow. It felt more like a job and less like the privilege that it had been with Shipe. And when he was done, Cobb always went back to his room, leaving Mercy to lie awake in the dark for a long time, just listening to the sounds of a hundred women sleeping in the resonating Pit next door.
It didn’t take very long at all for her sleepless nights to begin affecting her days. Always tired, she found herself sitting down more when she should have been putting the previous day’s books away, or cleaning the tables, or cataloguing the volumes gathering dust on all sides of her. It was her third week anniversary with Cobb when she gave up all pretenses of trying to work at all. Sitting down at her desk, tired in both mind as well as body, Mercy folded her arms over the top and laid her head upon them. Sleep didn’t come easily then either, so she got up and turned out the light.
She completely missed the bell that announced the mid-morning break, although the one that signaled the end of it did start her awake long enough for her to raise her head, blink sleepily around the brightly lit room as the Lessers filed out back out to their skill classes. There were two white Demerit slips for Laziness lying on the desk beside her arms. She crinkled them up and threw them in the fireplace. Shutting out the light again, she stretched out on one of the sofas and went back to sleep.
She never saw the light come back on. Instead, what she heard was a gruffly barked out, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
