Sedition Read Online Free PDF Page B

doubt he needs to move around very much for this part, anyway. It might do him good to have a little restraint.”
    I feel my skin crawl, and I hurry to disrobe completely. It would somehow be more humiliating to stand here with my pants around my ankles than it will be to be completely naked.
    “I ordered him to strip,” my master counters. I’m almost grateful.
    I’m naked a moment later and I stand, trembling before the man who fucks me and touches me and kisses me every night and a man who is obviously getting off on the prospect of humiliating me. I don’t understand how Cashiel can do this to me. The beating is bad enough; he’s never allowed anyone to watch before, much less allowed them to enjoy it.
    “Sascha, tell Mr. Torenze what happens when you’re disrespectful and rude to free people,” my master orders.
    I feel my stomach churn. He’s not just allowing Torenze to enjoy it, he’s helping him. I’ve been deluding myself, thinking I am more than a slave to him. I face the disgusting worm of a man who I blame for my punishment. “I am beaten, sir.” It’s all the more I can say. I can’t bring myself to utter another word, because all I want to do is berate him for his cruelty, and my master as well, and god knows that would end up worse.
    “But you haven’t learned your lesson, have you boy?” Torenze teases, actually grinning at me. “Has your master been too soft on you? Let you pretend to be some sort of fancy pet instead of an overpriced sex doll?”
    I feel my face start to burn. “My master has corrected me appropriately, sir. I just messed up.”
    “Go stand against the wall,” my master orders. I follow his commands like a puppet. “Lean forward. Legs spread.”
    I brace my hands against the wall. I’m surprised he doesn’t have me bend over, putting my ass on display more prominently, but he has always given me something to support myself with in the past. Maybe he’s worried that I’ll fall over when he hits me, which is probably true. I’m glad; standing means it will hurt a little less, as my skin isn’t stretched too tightly over my ass.
    “How many lashes do you usually get, boy?” Torenze asks, the self-satisfied smile coming through in his tone. “Is it a lot? Enough to make your pretty little ass sore for days, maybe make you shed some tears? I bet you cry easily.”
    I hate him. I hate him more than I hate being beaten. “That’s up to my master, sir.” I don’t care to tell him that I usually don’t get many. Then he might ask for more.
    “Ah, like to keep him guessing,” Torenze must be addressing my master now. “Great way to keep him in line. These types, they’ll take advantage of you if they know too much about what’s going to happen to them.”
    “Stand back,” is all my master says in response.
    I tense, waiting for the first impact. I don’t wait long, although I’m stunned that he’s hitting me across my back and shoulders. He’s never hit me there before. It hurts.
    But as much as it hurts, I’m instantly aware of how much he’s holding back, and I’m shocked. He moves quickly and efficiently, lashing me from the tops of my shoulders, down my back, across my ass, and then down my legs. I can’t keep count and I can’t keep track. I certainly can’t keep from crying and whimpering. But he’s not hitting nearly as hard as he usually does, and he hasn’t hit me in the same place twice. It’s almost like he’s trying not to hurt me, but that doesn’t make sense. If he didn’t want to hurt me, he shouldn’t be beating me in the first place, and he certainly shouldn’t be doing it in front of Torenze.
    He’s covered my backside with pain and probably bruises and I’ve leaned forward so I can rest my head against the wall and cry. I know it doesn’t hurt as much as it could, but it still hurts, and the reminder of what I am and how little I mean stings worse than the belt.
    “He’s scarred up,” Torenze comments, as if I’m