They continued their casual conversation as they sipped their tea and nibbled on the delicate sandwiches. I couldn’t help but listen, my cheeks burning as they discussed us as if we weren’t even there.
“I must say,” Mr. Thornton remarked, his voice carrying a note of appreciation, “there’s something quite fetching about a well-punished bottom. The contrast of those vivid welts against Miss Elara’s pale skin is really quite striking.”
“Indeed,” Gamma’s deep voice agreed, sending a shiver down my spine. “The way the marks crisscross and overlap… it’s almost artistic, in a way. And the way their little cheeks quiver… most alluring.”
I felt my face flame even hotter at his words, a confused mixture of shame and pride washing over me. I had sensed his arousal, yes, but the idea that Gamma would sayout loudthat he found my punished state attractive both mortified and excited me.
Mr. Blackwood chuckled softly. “Speaking of allure, did I mention that young Mr. Hawthorne has expressed an interest in courting Lydia?”
“Oh?” Dr. Porter’s voice held a note of intrigue. “The Hawthornes are a fine family. That could be an excellent match.”
“Yes, I think so too,” Mr. Blackwood agreed. “And interestingly enough, he’s made a rather… unusual request. He’s asked if I might provide him with a photograph of Lydia after she’s been soundly whipped. Says he wants to see how she takes her punishment before considering a formal courtship.”
A collective murmur of approval rippled through the room.
“A wise young man,” Dr. Porter commented. “It’s crucial to know how one’s potential wife responds to discipline.”
“Quite right,” Mr. Blackwood said. “I told him I’d be happy to oblige. In fact, given today’s thorough correction, I think I’ll have the photograph taken this evening. Lydia’s bottom will be at its most… photogenic, shall we say, then, I trust.”
I heard Lydia’s sharp intake of breath beside me, could almost feel the heat of her mortification radiating from her skin. The idea of her punishment being captured for a potential suitor to examine seemed unthinkably humiliating. Yet, to my shame, I felt a twinge of envy. Would Gamma ever want such a memento of my chastisement?
The conversation drifted on, the men discussing various aspects of our punishments as casually as if they were critiquing a fine wine. I stood there, hands atop my head, bottom blazing, as they debated the merits of different caning techniques and shared anecdotes about particularly memorable corrections they’d witnessed or administered.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I heard the decisive clink of porcelain as cups were set down and the rustle of movement as the men rose from their seats.
“Well, gentlemen,” Mrs. Porter’s voice rang out, “I believe our girls are in need of some comfort, as they express theirpenitence. Please, if you like, go and fetch them to your chairs, and reward them if you find them repentant. Dr. Porter and I have no objection to you raising their governors to as high a level as you find appropriate.”
CHAPTER 34
Gamma
I went immediately to Tessara, conscious of how hasty I would look to Thornton and Blackwood but not caring in the slightest. I had felt her inside my mind, during her whipping, and I could feel how confused—and yet how gratifyingly happy and needy—the new connection had made her.
I reached my lovely, penitent girl a full two strides in front of the other guardians. I put my hand on her punished bottom and held her gently there as I leaned very close and murmured in her ear.
“It’s real, sweet one. We share a very special bond, now.”
I accompanied my words with a gentle pressure, a soft flow of my thoughts and emotions. I poured a little of my mind out along the rope of consciousness that had connected our brains and even the rest of our bodies, at the level of our very nervous systems in this ineffable way. I showed her what my enormous blue hand looked like on her poor little bottom.
Tessara let out a deep, wrenching sob, and I heard my handheld chime urgently in my coat pocket.
Next to me, just arrived and already fondling Elara’s adorable backside, I heard Blackwood chuckle.
“Miss Tessara is indeed responsive, isn’t she?” he said. “Elara is, too, though she would never admit it.”
The words drew little gasps from both girls. I heard a beep from Blackwood’s pocket that answered the one from mine.
To my other side, I heard Thornton growl into Lydia’s ear, his voice low and husky, “Do you want your little cunny turned up, you naughty girl?”
Lydia let out a soft whimper, her body trembling visibly and the alert noise from Thornton’s coat matching the previous ones. “P-please, sir,” she whispered, her voice thick with need.
Blackwood’s hand roamed over Elara’s punished bottom, his fingers tracing the raised welts. “Such a good girl,” he murmured. “Taking your punishment so bravely. Don’t you deserve a little reward now?”
Elara’s breath hitched. “Yes, sir,” she breathed. “If… if you think I do.”
The room filled with the soft sounds of flesh against flesh as Thornton and Blackwood began to caress their wards more intimately. I could hear the wet sounds of fingers sliding through slick folds, accompanied by the girls’ muffled moans and sobs of mingled pain and pleasure. The subtle chiming of their governors became almost continuous, a strange but seductive sort of music that indicated our naughty girls’ submissive needs.
Lydia’s voice rose in a keening whine. “Oh! Oh, sir, please…”