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her bright
yellow hair touched the floor and her arse stuck high in the air.
One of the night’s assistants brought a paddle, of the sort
Dzer-Jin thought were normally used to tenderize meat, and Ballaj
made her kiss the broad plank before he began to spank her with
it.
    Each strike cracked sharply upon her pale
skin, bringing a blush that speedily burgeoned into a wondrous red.
Raw, purpling bruises like rare blossoms would soon form, stark
upon that white hide. The blonde squirmed and screamed. Upon
Ballaj’s orders, she fought through her sobs to form broken words,
describing the stinging, burning torment she felt. Her tears flowed
freely, yet she also pleaded for more, begging to be smacked
harder.
    Both Dzer-Jin’s hands sought the ornate
wooden arms of his chair. Their raised carvings jabbed his palms
while the skin of his knuckles turned white. Dark thoughts that
normally concentrated on cataloguing threats and responses now
sharpened their focus on the pale skin displayed before him.
Because his pet had pale skin like that.
    He’d seen it when he worked on her back.
Felt it. Firm. Tender. Delicate. He could imagine how her skin
would turn a similar red beneath his punishing hand. How hot to the
touch her smacked flesh would feel. How she might struggle and
kick, draped over his lap, since she wasn’t tamed yet. But that
effort would just grind her deliciously against him and she would
stay his captive, unable to get away, dependent upon him for mercy
or pleasure.
    She would cry prettily, too. The sweet scent
of her fear would tickle his nostrils while she sobbed his name
over and over. He would strike her round arse until her pale flesh
was bestrewn with those red blossoms, until her overloaded nerves
confused pain with pleasure, and she began begging him for more.
Which he would oblige. And she would make the most musical, keening
whimpers in gratitude.
    He glanced down at his pet. She was curled
bodily against his leg, face hidden, wincing with every slap of the
paddle.
    A cold, sick feeling instantly invaded his
gut. Was that… guilt? An unfamiliar, unpleasant and uncomfortable
emotion. He hated it but it wouldn’t leave. And he knew why. He had
been aroused by a scene that was terrifying his pet. He should be
comforting her, not fantasizing.
    “ It’s all right,” he
whispered to her, forcing one hand to release the chair arm and
reaching down to stroke her hair again. “That Tellurian likes
it.”
    “ Please don’t make me do
that, Master,” she mumbled into his knee.
    She shivered. Pressed against him as she
was, her tremble shook his leg. The jittery motion darted straight
for his already aroused cock. Excitement coiled at the base of his
spine.
    Gritting his teeth, he inhaled through his
nose, long and deep, and attempted to regain control. But the air
smelled of fear and pain, delightful scents that only stimulated
him more. As if it had a mind of its own, his hand buried itself in
the thick waves of her hair, grasping a fistful at the back of her
head. She had such soft, glossy hair.
    He could imagine pulling her up by it,
directing her with a twist or a yank, using the coppery tresses to
wrench her head back and force her to expose her throat in
submission. By the seven suns of Hyrax, he wanted her submission.
Heat coursed through his body. But he managed to relax his
hold.
    Ballaj shoved the yellow-haired girl off his
lap, called out the next name as she crawled back to her master,
and the show continued. The scene was the same with the next slave,
and the next. The same plea for correction. The same crack and slap
of the paddle upon abused skin. The same delicious squeals and the
same wanton begging for more.
    Dzer-Jin’s unfulfilled desire was starting
to transform into physical pain. He tried to shift surreptitiously
and palm himself. Didn’t work. And now his trousers were actively
trying to strangle him.
    Meanwhile his pet cringed and covered her
face. He swore under his breath. He was