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Sci Spanks (8 page)

BOOK: Sci Spanks
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The guards stepped back and we all had a view of the young girls bottom spread before us, the pink lips of her sex trembling, her dark back hole just visible between her cheeks. Foreman, as he was known, the man who would dole out the punishment, took his place and swung the cane through the air once, the whippy sound silencing the crowd, calling a cry from the waiting girl's lips.

Without ceremony, he raised his arm and the cane hung there as if frozen in time. I did not breathe a single breath as it whooshed through the air and made contact with the center of the girl's bottom. She didn't make a sound at first, no one did. In fact, it was silent for what seemed an eternity before the stripe began to color and the bent girl made a desperate noise. I saw Forman's lips quiver and, as he applied the next strokes, watched how his cock swelled behind the crotch of his pants. I'd not seen many men who enjoyed their work so much as Foreman.

By the time he was finished with the girl, she had to be carried off the stage. After twenty strokes, her bottom looked a fiery red and skin had broken in some places. I felt terrified: I had thirty strokes coming. The doctor had examined the girl twice during her punishment and both times, allowed it to continue. I only hoped mine would be called to a stop before the thirty.

"Bring the next girl," the foreman said, his gaze meeting each one of ours as he said it.

I watched as each girl was led to that block, each bound to it, her bottom raised, presented to Foreman to administer her punishment. The doctor had not stopped a single caning and I watched my sisters now bound into the pillories surrounding the stage as the girl before me took the last of her strokes and it was finally my turn.

The foreman turned to me, his hair slick with sweat now. He made no effort to hide the fact that his gaze traveled the length of me and as it did, fear turned to panic. Without taking his eyes from mine, he nodded once, signaling the guards to bring me. I took a step before they could touch me though and when I did, the crowd fell silent. Foreman cocked his head to the side but the twitch in his eye betrayed his irritation. When the guards came to take hold of me, he shook his head and with a grand gesture, motioned for me to take position over the block. I swallowed, my legs leaden as I walked toward it. I glanced at the people who stood and watched, their faces anticipatory. I glanced at the woman who had made the comment about how I'd mark and saw her hand pressed against her crotch, her gaze riveted on me. I then faced forward, faced the women I'd watched punished now watch me from their humiliating positions and I slowly bent forward, spreading my legs wide, and offering myself for my caning.

The guards moved quickly then, running the strap across my low back, locking me into place at both wrists and ankles so that I was immobile, my bare bottom offered to Foreman. But I would not know my mistake until the last ten of my sentence of thirty.

He took his time, lining up the cane against my trembling cheeks, telling of what was due me. He even called to have the strap at my back tightened, lifting my bottom even higher.

"I've got a special treat in mind for you," he said. "I hope you're ready. Are you ready?"

I stared straight head, scared as hell but trying my hardest to hide it.

"Well, answer me!" he said, tapping the cane against my bottom.

"Yes, Sir, I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" he taunted.

I knew what he wanted. I'd heard of this before, there was always one he chose, one unlucky girl. "Sir, I’m ready for my punishment. Please cane me, Sir."

With that, the first stroke fell. Inside my head it felt like I screamed to bring down mountains when the burn of it registered, but in reality, I made no sound. Instead, I watched the others watching me take mine. He struck hard and fast, starting at the center, working a pattern: one below the last, one above, one below, one above until the whole of my bottom and the top half of my thighs were covered by searing dark lines of pure fire.

"I've nowhere left to mark," he said from behind me. The doctor came to inspect as well. "I've ten strokes left and not a patch of skin to mark. I'd hate to break her lovely skin. Doctor, do you have a suggestion?"

It was in that moment, in the tone of his voice that I knew it was time to pay for my bravery. My stupidity. The crowd wanted our fear, they craved it. When I'd walked to the block on my own, I'd stolen that from them.

"Proceed as you see fit, Foreman," came the words of the doctor sealing my fate.

"Where are the jailers?" Foreman snapped.

The two women from the preparation facility turned up and took their places on either side of me. They'd done this before.

"Spread her."

I knew then what he meant to do.

"No! Please!"

"Wide."

The women's hands dug into the bruised flesh of my bottom. I felt cool air on my back hole as I was spread wide open to take the last strokes directly upon my anus.

"Please," I tried once more only to feel the smooth surface of the cane come to rest on that very tender, that very private place.

"Be brave, now," Foreman said. "Ten. You'll count each one, you'll thank me for each one and you'll ask for the next. Should you fail, well, you won't fail, will you? Ten is plenty of punishment on this tender little hole."

No, I would say just what he wanted how he wanted it. Ten. I could take ten. I had to. And then it would be over. Until the next time when I would know better to tremble before the crowd.

"Ah!" my fingernails dug into the palms of my hands and I tried to clench my bottom but with my legs spread as they were and the guards pulling my cheeks apart, it was impossible. When one of the guards slapped my hip, I nearly cried but relaxed my cheeks as I was told.

"Not so brave now, are you?" Foreman asked. "I'll give you one more moment to utter your penance or the stroke won't count."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you ,Sir! Another stroke, please Sir."

"You see, she is wholly repentant. Begging for her punishment even," he said to cheers from the crowd.

"Where shall I lay the next stroke then?" he asked.

"Across my bottom hole, Sir," I muttered, utterly shamed.

And so they came. The next nine strokes, each one asked for, each one setting my bottom on fire and when it was over, I too was led off the stage limping between the two guards, but as I was taken toward what I thought to be my pillory, I hard Foreman call out behind me.

"No, not there. Take that one inside…"

 

Author Bio

 

Natasha Knight is the author of several BDSM and spanking erotic romances all of which explore the mind of the Dominant male and the submissive female, discovering just beneath the surface of each story that key element of love. Her characters are as human as she: powerful but vulnerable, flawed, perhaps damaged but with an incredible capacity to love.

To learn more, please visit
www.natasha-knight.com

 

 

 

 

 

Research Purposes Only

 

By

Eva Lefoy

 

 

The shuttle from Izen IV landed on Utai precisely on time. I had hoped for an early arrival as now I had less than a centiday to make my way to the exhibition. Hurrying my steps, I barely resisted pushing a slow-moving Fenorean out of my path, instead brushing by it as I exited the craft. Some species! Couldn’t they see I’m in a hurry?

The Utai’ians had only opened their elaborate annual showcase of flowers to outside viewing in the last three Earth rotations. I’d done my homework on the event, saved up my new-dollars and bought my ticket. Now I was ready to put my considerable hard-earned knowledge into play.

For research purposes, of course.

As I crossed the footbridge I spied the pre-sold ticket booth and headed directly for it. At the window I flashed my holographic proof-of-purchase and was rewarded with a grunt.
Lovely
. Such brilliant conversationalists the Utai were! Well, no matter. I wasn’t here to chat anyway. After another five minutes spent waiting in a security-scan queue, they cleared me to enter the most sacred of shrines: the Supreme Emperor’s Flower Garden. With a name such as that, I half expected Earthen green tea served in tiny cups by women with bound feet and bizarre hairstyles. But neither food nor drink were allowed inside the auditorium. Of course I had enough hydra-gel in my pack to last me until I boarded the shuttle home in a little over two-and-a-half deciday. Which gave me very little time to put my plan into action. Elbowing my way through the crowd, I edged nearer the stage.

Though I’d read about the grotesque scents of the Utai’ian’s flower species, I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose at the boggy stench.
Phew
. The guide-books had been too kind. I suddenly had second thoughts.
Could I really do this without gagging?
Seriously. The aroma was horrid. My hair would never smell the same. But then I remembered my research.

I looked left and right at the hulking guards stationed every hundred centimeters or so around the entire presentation. The Utai’ians were green, very muscular large bi-pedals known to be difficult to excite. The guidebook had said little about their sexuality, their preferences hush-hush. Well. I had heard rumors about their prowess and I wasn’t going to leave without checking them out. Putting one foot in front of the other, I marched my way toward the display, surreptitiously tripped over a Vaibara’s rather large ankle, and toppled sideways into the flowers.

Shrill alarms pealed. Heavy footsteps zeroed in on my location. A giant green hand grabbed the collar of my shirt and plucked me from the stinky blooms. I did my best to look surprised.
“I’m sorry…I….”

“Restricted area. Unauthorized access. You’re under arrest.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the guard’s green cheeks flushed. Maybe they were an excitable race after all.

Another guard talked into an earpiece before motioning toward the back of the room. “Holding cell. We will evaluate for immediate execution.”

Say what?
“Now, hold on a nanosecond. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. You surely can’t execute me for clumsiness.”

“You have caused injury to the Emperor’s property. You must be punished. Take her to Oo’ir.”

The guard holding me nodded grimly and a very bad feeling settled into my stomach. Execution wasn’t legal for but a handful of crimes on Utai, but this Oo’ir guy sounded threatening.
What the hell had I done to myself?

 

***

 

I was left alone in a room with my hands secure-tied behind my back. The cold meta-synth tables in front of me were bereft of any objects and after such an overload of botanical textures and smells, the room seemed painfully vacant. Except for the empty throne. Or whatever the large chair might be. It too, looked cold and uncomfortable.

Swamped in silence, it seemed I waited a full Earth rotation before a door opened. When it did, my worst fears and my highest hopes were justly rewarded.

A tall, brawny Utai’ian lumbered toward me, taking his time, looking no more interested in my presence than I was with flowers. Determined, I stuck my chest out, and secretly pressed the hidden button on my bracelet to release the pheromones I’d purchased black market. I had to distract him from the idea of execution and put his attention on a different course. He came to rest within arm’s length of me, studying me under dark green lids. His hands played with some small object, maybe a tiny weapon to kill me with.

“You are accused of damaging the Supreme Emperor’s property. How do you plead?”

I turned my head, but saw no jury. He would be my sole judge and executioner. Or, if I played my cards right, research material… I took a step closer. “Innocent. Your honor.”

He scoffed, his giant shoulders rising and falling with his snort. “I am not
your honor
. I am Oo’ir.”

“Well Oo’ir,” I scooted closer, praying the pheromones worked. “You look very
honorable
to me.”

He raised a bushy dark brown eyebrow the same color as his braided hair. “I promise I will decide your fate fairly.”

I pursed my lips in what I hoped was a pretty pout. “Can’t you maybe punish me for being bad and then let me go?”

Oo’ir’s eyes gleamed at the word punish. I’d heard theirs was a discipline-focused sexuality, but the reports hadn’t been explicit about their tastes. I was forging into unknown territory, both exhilarated and terrified at the possibilities.

“You wish to be punished, Earthling?”

“Yes,” I breathed. “Punish me, Oo’ir. I’ve been a very bad girl.”

His hands grabbed me and pulled me to his chest. The pads of his fingers were rough, like sandpaper. The feel of his chest like warm steel. I bit my lip as my pussy clenched in anticipation.

“Bad,” he repeated.

“Yes. Very bad girl.” Oh, how bad I’d truly been. Oo’ir had no idea.

He picked me up as though I weighed nothing, and strode toward the throne. When he reached it, he set me down on my feet and gave me an appraising look. He fingered the placket of my coat, his gaze on my breasts. “You are fragile. Weak. You will not take much punishment.”

I shook my head in disagreement. The gesture meant the same thing in our languages. “I can take it. Really. Give me what I deserve, Oo’ir.”

He snorted a hot breath out his nose before pulling my coat down and ripping open my blouse. Since I’d worn no bra – who needs one in space with light gravity anyway? – my breasts were fully exposed. He sucked in a breath and grasped both nipples, pinching them hard.

The pain-pleasure circuit in my brain kicked in.
I lived for this.
To experience exactly this. In every way and with every race I possibly could before I died. I’d made it my life’s study. Showing Oo’ir my submission without betraying my greediness for more would be my difficulty. Wanting to encourage him, I laid my head back and gave the lightest of moans.

“Sturdy enough,” Oo’ir said approvingly. “We will proceed.”

Gratified, I managed not to shout with glee as he pulled my skirt down to my feet, leaving me in my thong.

BOOK: Sci Spanks
4.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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