Oh, fuck. That hurt.
The spanking started hard and fast, leaving me no time to catch my breath or even remotely prepare myself for what was to come. A soft whimper fell off my lips and I pressed them together so firmly it hurt my jaw. Each strike of his hand jarred me, forcing my nipples to scrape against the table. I attempted to press my chest down against the wooden surface, but that hurt a great deal too.
My whole world turned into one burning pain. His palm blistered my entire backside, its broad size encompassing much of my bare bottom with every spank. He punished from the upper curve of my cheeks all the way down to the middle of my thighs.
He’d never spanked me this hard before. He’d shown me that I needed to fear his belt and even my own hairbrush on occasion, but this was only his hand.
I was beginning to fear that too.
His palm peppered my bottom so hard that I began to question if it was even his hand at all. I tried to twist out of the way of his brutal cruelty, but nothing I did stopped his hand from falling. For a while, I managed to stay quiet, taking what he gave me as proudly as I could. I kept my eyes down on the table so that I couldn’t see the man across from me curiously watching the king turn my once pale skin a bright red. Even thinking about it made my face turn scarlet with shame.
He started exclusively spanking my thighs and that was far worse than all the rest. My skin was so much more sensitive there and he knew it, so he punished it just as firmly as he’d done the rest of me. It didn’t take long for him to break my vow to keep silent and soon enough, I started to cry out with every firm slap across my scalded backside.
He continued until I was forced to squeeze my eyes shut as the pain overwhelmed me. My bottom felt scorched by fire and still his palm punished me without mercy. I hiccupped and my breath hitched in the back of my throat. He was going to make me cry using nothing but his hand, but then he did something unexpected. He stopped and reached for a thin wooden cheeseboard.
Purposefully, he tilted it to the side and the meats and cheeses that had been so intricately placed in a circle slid right off of it. I swallowed deeply, staring at the terrible wooden thing. I could see the long lines of the grain of the wood. It would have been pretty if I didn’t know what it was about to do to me. He knocked it on the table once and then twice, before taking a damp napkin and wiping it clean.
Then he removed it from my view and tapped it against my naked backside. It was almost the size of one of my cheeks and I swallowed anxiously as it left my bottom.
With a resounding crack, he spanked me with ruthlessly hard for the first time. With a cry of shock, I closed my eyes and struggled to take the fierce bite, but a second one followed and I soon realized that there was nothing worse than this.
A wooden paddle was terrible. It hurt so much more than anything else. Unlike his hand, the entire sting was focused into a much smaller area. It took so much longer to fade, not that the speed of my paddling allowed it to. Before long, the paddle turned my backside into one unending stinging blaze and the tears that hadn’t fallen before soon threatened to cascade down my cheeks unbidden.
I tried not to cry. I tried not to let anyone know how much it hurt, but I was fighting a losing battle. The paddle was so much more punishing than anything he’d ever used before and he wasn’t holding back. He spanked my bottom and my thighs hard enough so that I knew sitting would be hard for at least the next several days. He focused the hardest on my upper thighs and I chewed the inside of my cheek in order to keep from crying.
The agony of the paddle on my backside made the pain in my nipples feel like almost nothing at all. Soon enough, the only thing I could manage to think about was the thrashing of the awful wooden thing.
The sound of it ruthlessly cracking against my bottom over and over should have made me blush, but it hurt far too much for that. I hoped he would stop soon, but I knew that he wouldn’t.
This was going to end when he wanted it to, likely with me sobbing and utterly repentant.
It wouldn’t take much longer for me to reach that point.
My cries grew desperate. I started to beg.
“Please,” I pleaded.
“What do you think, King Erik? In your city, would this be enough punishment for a defiant omega?” Magnar asked the man at the other end of the table.
“No. Not even close, King Magnar. In Daneridge, her bottom would be bruised, and she’d be sobbing long after her punishment was through,” he answered. “I must say though, this makes dinner far more interesting.”
“I think so too,” Magnar snarled, and he paddled me even more mercilessly after that. For several hard cracks, I was able to keep quiet, but a number of hard strokes against my thighs made my walls start to crumble.
I moaned and my eyes watered. I blinked, trying to hold back the inevitable. It was a measure in futility though. I did everything in my power to prevent it, but the paddle was ruthless, and the first tear dripped down my cheek. It
