The Auction

Compromise

Amelia's POV:

"Ten, Mistress!" Atlas pants, shaking from head to toe.

I tease him with the cane, gently whacking his thighs and quads as I pace around him.

Muscle heaves in anticipation of my next stroke.

"You know what I haven't heard yet today, Slave?"

"W-what, Mistress?" Atlas pants, flexing as I pace around him.

"Gratitude. Are you ungrateful, Slave? You haven't thanked me once? Do you feel unsatisfied with your maintenance discipline?" I demand.

Atlas shrieks in pain as I land another stroke on his behind.

"Eleven, Mistress. Thank you! I'm so sorry. Thank you, Mistress! Your slave is so grateful for your attention, Mistress!"

I smile, chuckling softly, torturing him with anticipation of his next stroke.

"Who do you belong to, Slave?"

"You, Mistress!" he cries out with no hesitation.

"Why are you being disciplined?"

"For your pleasure, Mistress! It's for your pleasure and at your discretion," he squeaks out, letting out pathetic whimpers.

I pause in my pacing, admiring him now. He pants heavily, his arms flexed behind his head, fingers laced to keep his hands together. Strong muscular legs keep him standing despite his shakiness.

His behind is stripped with red cane stripes and with a less pain loving submissive, my ministrations may be cruel.

My slave wears a pleasant grin despite his panting and the physical stress I've been putting him through.

"You're going to take three more strikes, Slave. Do you know why you're taking three more?"

"Because you said so, Mistress—Thank you, twelve!"

I grin devilishly, giving him his thirteenth stroke.

He lets out a loud whine, earning raised brows from me.

"Thank you, Mistress. You're so merciful to your slave!"

"I am, aren't I?" I muse, grinning from ear to ear.

Setting aside the cane now, I make my way in front of him. "You're just saying that because you think I'm going to let you cum, huh?" I tease.

He nods vigorously, biting back moans as I stroke him.

"Please, Mistress. Please, Beloved," he begs, his entire body tensing under my touch.

"Beloved? Do you think your pet name for me will earn you my mercy, Slave?"

"No, of course not—Well, Maybe. Yes! Yes, Beloved!" he amends, sensing my growing amusement with him.

I pull back from him, snapping off my latex gloves, wiping my sweaty hands on a blanket.

"You're funny, Atlas. Position two. I'm going to get you some soothing cream. You've been a very good boy today for your maintenance discipline, we are finished. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Thank you, Mistress. Yes. May I please touch you now?"

"Yes, our scene is done." He slowly lowers his arms from behind his head as I kneel with him, uncapping some of the soothing cream.

"Shall I put this on you once you are done, Mistress? I'm sure your feet are sore after today."

"That would be lovely. Where are these from?" I interrupt, running her fingers gently over a bruise on his wrist and elbow.