The Prize by International Bestselling Author Ashe Barker

Chapter 12: Thank You, Sirs

"Do I need to count?"

Mark chuckles. "In my experience subs are crap at counting, especially when they're on the receiving end of a decent caning. We'll count, you just say thank you after each stroke. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir, " I agree again, cringing against the bedding under my nude body. My bottom is still sore from the paddling earlier, I'm not at all certain how awful this is going to be and despite my brave words of just moments ago, I'm deathly scared. This is punishment. This is not intended to be pleasurable. This is going to hurt like fuck.

Greg takes a hank of my hair in his fist and turns my face toward him. He bends over beside me to kiss my mouth. His gorgeous green eyes are soft as he offers me a brief smile. "You have courage, little sub. We like that."

"Thank you, " I whisper, wondering if courage will be quite enough to get me through this.

Greg straightens and gives my vulnerable bottom a light tap with the end of the cane. "So, are you ready?"

I nod, and screw up my eyes. I tense. Every muscle is taut, rigid. My bottom is clenched tight though I know they will insist I soften for them, that I allow the punishment to happen, that I accept it, unresisting.

Greg draws the length of the cane back and forth across my bottom, tracing an imaginary line spanning both cheeks. I let out a whimper, unable to contain it.

The bed dips alongside me. Mark is there, his palm on my shoulder. I turn to face him, and on impulse I kiss his wrist. He strokes my cheek, and it's enough. I relax and allow my body to become limp.

There's a low whistle, then a line of pure flame erupts across my bum. "Sheesh! Jesus that hurts. Fuck, fuck, [i]fuck.[/i]" I hiss out the words as I jerk violently, coming right up on my toes. Several seconds pass, then I manage to breathe again. "Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome, Jessie." Greg strokes my bum with the cane once more, perhaps a little lower than before, marking his spot.

I scream even louder when the next stroke lands, taking a few moments to process the pain before murmuring my thanks.

Greg doesn't answer. Instead he lines up his final stroke, on the upper curve of my bottom. It's the hardest yet, and I'm sobbing as I gasp my muffled 'thank you'.

Mark stands up and his place is taken by Greg who reaches beneath me to take my hand in his. He squeezes my fingers. "Half way, Jessie. You're doing well."

"It hurts, Sir," I wail.

"Of course it does. How would you learn anything from us if your punishment didn't hurt? Will you be able to control yourself next time we tell you not to come?"

I offer him a vehement little nod, still crying. "Yes, Sir, I will. I promise I will. I'm sorry."

"We know that. Just three more, then we're done. You can apologise again, and put it behind you."

"Unfortunate choice of words," observes Mark, patting my abused bottom. "How about I get this done fast?"

"Yes, please, Sir," I sniffle.

"You can thank me after, for the whole lot."

"Yes, yes I will. Just ... just do it, Sir."

He does. No preamble, no teasing strokes now. Mark lands a sharp stroke across the lower curve of my bum, then he shifts his attention to the backs of my thighs. The last one sizzles right on my sweet spot. I scream with each stripe, even as my juices drip from my pussy. Moisture smears my inner thighs, my clit is throbbing, and through the dizzying haze of agony I crave nothing more than to come again. Not that I would dare. Not for a moment.

Mark tosses the cane onto the bed. I lie still, shaking, sobbing, still clutching at Greg's hand.

"Say thank you, Jessie." Greg reminds me of my manners, and I turn to peer up at Mark through my tears.

"Thank you, Sir. I'm sorry, about the orgasms. I won't do it again."

Mark narrows his eyes, at me, though the corner of his mouth quirks in an amused grin. "I expect you will. You're one seriously hot little slut and I daresay we'll need to work hard with you to get the message across."

"Sir?" Did I hear that right? These accomplished, powerful Doms actually want to scene with me again?

"What do you think, Jessie? Would you like us to help you to learn how to behave? Should we teach you to be the obedient little slut we need?"

"You'd do that? With me?" I push myself up on one elbow to look from one to the other. "Both of you?"

"Definitely with you. And definitely both of us. We'll need you to obey us though. And that's what you want too, isn't it, girl?"

"Yes. Oh yes, Sir" My agreement is fervent, and definite. I want nothing more than to be their obedient, compliant submissive, to earn their approval. Except...this fabulous place, this haven of kink, is quite beyond my means. After the next few short weeks I won't be able to afford to return here, to meet them, to play with them, however much I might like to.

Mark does smile at me now. "I know what you're thinking, Jessie, but let us worry about that. You can come here as often as you like, as our guest."

"Thank you, Sir. But, don't you already have someone you...? I mean, either of you? You're both so hot, so stern, I would have imagined—"

Greg laughs. "Don't worry, Jessie, there is a vacancy and the job's yours if you want it. Submissive to two demanding Doms – it won't be easy."

I should give the prospect some thought, should consider carefully what I actually want. I've never had a regular play relationship before, never felt the need for it. But as I look from deep emerald eyes to hot ebony ones, I do none of those sensible things. Instead I slip from the bed and sink back down onto my knees, my head bowed.

"Thank you, Sir... Sirs. I accept."