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Young king Aleksander finds an abused slave at the Market.

Her hair tickled her lips. She stopped the annoyance by rubbing her face into the bed and blowing the strands away from her.

Her body relaxed as she accepted her predicament. As minutes passed, the dead air became unsettling. Idiotic thoughts of him leaving her there forever became terrifying. Pissing herself was another worry. He not being in the house at all made her panic. She heard nothing coming from the other rooms. No TV or the hum of other electronics. No evidence of anyone shuffling about. She desperately waited to hear the doorknob turn.

She glanced back at the menacing object a few inches from her nose. The intensity of the fear grew as she realized she would be restrained for the caning. He had never tied her up for a spanking before. She liked the privilege of squirming a little or using her hand to block the blows. Moaning, she buried her face back into the comforter. There was the option of begging him to release her. She searched for the words that could change his mind.

As she practiced her plea in whispers, the door opened. Her mouth opened ready to ask for her freedom. The knife he showed her cut her off. She quivered at the sharp, five inch blade. Too frightened to speak, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that he wouldn't cut her up in little pieces.

She felt him pull her skirt and heard fabric ripping. He slid the damaged clothing out from underneath her. She shuddered, ready to cry. Butchering her favorite skirt was punishment enough. But he didn't stop there. He carefully maneuvered the knife around her trembling body, cutting through the seams of the bright, blue shirt. He snatched the pieces of the garment off her back. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She sniffled and winced at the coldness of the blade pressed at her hip. The expensive matching bra and panty set was next. He pulled the white lace away from her ass, snipped the straps of her bra, and made one last incision to the back. He piled the mutilated outfit in front of her. She sobbed, thinking that he couldn't be any crueler.

He lifted the cane from the pile. Without a warning to how many she would be receiving, he aimed the length of cane across her bottom. As soon as she felt it lifted away from her, she clenched. She heard the swish and cried out as it struck her. She mentally counted the first stroke. Another swish. Another yell. She tallied the second hit. After the third, she gave up on counting and buried her face in the sheets to muffle her screams. He slowly paced the strikes, leaving stripes going down her ass.

Five well placed stinging welts marked her bottom, with two on each of the back of her thighs.

She stayed clenched until she heard shuffling in the closet. Her muscles relaxed as she waited for him to untie her. Then, he would hold her while she finished crying in his arms. But the bedroom door closed. Her crying stalled. She strained to hear him moving. The only sound was her unsteady breathing.

The weeping continued as the pain dulled. As the sobs subsided, she savored the burning. It was a pain she craved that made her pussy swollen and throbbing. She became addicted to the sensation, the only reason she agreed to the thrashings. The aftermath left her euphoric and ready.

She groaned as she became wetter. She wanted him and only him. No other man could hurt her in such a way that would turn her on. Not even that one stranger at the party. Her hips searched for something to grind her clit against.

The door finally opened. She jutted her hips upward to give him a glimpse of her glistening pussy. One leg was freed and soon the other was too. He unknotted the tie from the bed but kept her wrist bound. He held the end of the tie like a leash and walked around the back of her. Using one hand, he undid the other knot and brought the ends together. He gripped the ties and yanked upwards, forcing her to stand.

She stumbled to balance herself with the swift jerking of his ad hoc leash.

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