Captive by Aishling Morgan

her alarm and shame are genuine.’
    ‘Wonderful!’ the clerk exclaimed. ‘I shall come and watch myself, if only I can drag my assistant from the common room.’
    Aisla could find nothing to say, but only remember how she, Elethrine and Talithea had beaten been for the pleasure of Glass Coast merchants while in Apraya. Evidently it was to happen to her again, and from what Grathor and the clerk were saying in front of an audience. Her lips had begun to tremble and her face was hot with blushes, made worse by the knowledge that the beating would excite her in just the way it was intended to.
    ‘A face like a smacked bottom!’ the clerk observed, looking at her red cheeks. ‘How rare! How pretty! Ganis, where is Ganis, the lazy little tyke!’
    At his calls a pair of high doors at the end of the hall swung open, admitting a lanky boy in the same blue livery as the clerk. For a moment Aisla could see into the interior of what was presumably the common room, a long chamber in which structures of various shapes were ranged at intervals. Each was of dark wood, with padding of blue leather and bronze fittings. Two of them had pretty Hai girls strapped in place, both with their faces set in pained ecstasy and their naked bottoms flushed dark from beating. It was no more than a glimpse, yet it left her heart fluttering and her mouth wide, lost for words and weak kneed at the thought of being given the same treatment.
    ‘I’ll bet those’ll swing well!’ the boy said, leering straight at Aisla’s breasts. ‘You going to whip them, sir?’
    ‘Show some respect for the clients, Ganis!’ the clerk snapped as Aisla’s cheeks became hotter still. ‘Now mind the desk.’
    ‘Sir!’ the boy complained, his expression turning to petulance and his eyes never leaving Aisla’s body.
    Grathor had her hand and began to pull, leading her towards a flight of stairs that rose up to a balcony. She followed reluctantly, briefly thinking of trying to refuse only to abandon the idea at the prospect of getting a hand spanking in the hall with the leering boy looking on. It was easier to postpone her fate.
    On the landing the clerk hurried ahead and opened a tall door, ushering Grathor and her inside. Aisla went, and found herself blushing in confusion. The room was much like the one she had glimpsed downstairs, but smaller and more richly furnished, with only four of the wooden devices set in the corners of the room. Two were in use, with brown-haired Hai girls strapped in place, naked and red bottomed.
    Aisla swallowed hard, her mouth falling open at the sight. The nearest girl was on a sort of padded trestle, with her wrists and ankles strapped to the legs and a broad leather belt around her waist. The position left her bottom flared wide, with her wet tuppenny on show and her anus pulsing slowly between her crimson cheeks. The other girl, by the window, was less well into her punishment but in an even more exposed and humiliating position, lying along a bench on her back with her arms and legs lashed above her to a ring in the ceiling and a large dildo protruding from her anus. More alarming still was the girls’ attitude, which showed nothing of the agonising shame they should have been suffering. Both were clearly enjoying themselves, one rubbing her sex on a ball shaped projection that rose from the trestle and clearly close to orgasm, the other giggling and squirming her bottom on the dildo as she was whipped.
    The girl with her sex on the ball began to come, jerking her body frantically to the whip blows. Her partner, a stocky, bearded man, was beating her left handed and pulling at his erect cock with his right. Aisla watched, open mouthed at the lewd display as the girl’s bottom bounced to the hard whip blows. Both cheeks were crimson with marks, the muscles clenching and unclenching as her orgasm went through her. The man gave a final, powerful blow as his erection jerked, spraying sperm across the girl’s bottom as she