Free Chosen by the Governor by Jaye Peaches Page A

delightful supply of soft leather.
    He selected leather cuffs and a thin rope. “Hold out your wrists.”
    She blinked away the tiny tears as he carefully slid the cuffs around her wrists and linked them together. Then, as she lowered her body onto the desk, pushing her breasts against the console, he crouched down and hunting beneath the table, he located a small hook, something that probably was used to carry cables. It was perfect for what he needed. He coiled the rope around it, snapping tension into it as he forced her arms straight out in front of her head. She clasped her hands together.
    “Legs too, I think.” He had leg cuffs and they easily fitted around her slender ankles. He tied each one to the corner legs of the table, stretching her wider and in doing so, parted the folds of her glistening pussy. He resisted the temptation to graze his fingers along her slit and feel the wetness. Now wasn’t the time. Just as he had to control his stiffening cock, he had to hold back on the caresses.
    “Ready?”
    She muttered something. He guessed it wasn’t appropriate. Earthlings enjoyed humor in times of difficulty—a perverse reaction, but one he might come to appreciate.
    “I asked a question,” he said sternly.
    “Yes, sir.”
    He aimed carefully, ensuring he didn’t land the strap on top of the two previous blows. Accompanied by a loud thwack, the leather thong collided with her ass and she jolted, cried out, but remained held fast to the table.
    He inspected his handiwork. The line was horizontal and slightly above the natural crease between her thigh and ass. “Two. You’re doing well. I understand this is difficult for you, but I will complete this punishment.”
    She released a tiny sob and buried her face in her outstretched arms.
    He waited. She needed to process the pain. Unlike Vendu men, who when flogged or whipped were treated to a barrage of blows in rapid succession, women were punished differently. For men it was about demonstrating their mettle and enduring the pain and brutality of military discipline. For the women, it was showing humility and meekness. If she understood this, then he hoped she would meet with his other requirements.
    When he whacked the strap against her bottom, the loop of folded leather cracked together. The noise made her jolt and its purpose was intentional. The sound exaggerated the effect of the strap, tricking her into believing he was inflicting a harsher punishment.
    “Fuck!” She pulled on the rope.
    The word had other meanings, he’d learned from listening to the broadcasts on Earth. Leaning over her, he inspected the cuffs. There was no evidence they were harming her. He noted two teardrops on the desk. “Nearly there,” he murmured into her ear.
    He backhanded the next. By switching sides he ensured the marks were evenly distributed along with the pain. She screamed with the penultimate lash of the strap. The noise wouldn’t bring anyone running to her rescue. He’d given strict instructions not to be disturbed.
    The last one had to count. He waited for her to catch her breath, for the white of her knuckles to fade as she unclenched her fists. The fire in her ass must be close to the edge of her tolerance. This first spanking of his had to be the least amenable for her. The next, if it came to happen, would be different. He would prefer her over his lap and under his hand. Then, of course, if things went well between them, she would be introduced to other forms of punishment. He eyed the little star of her anus. That was one place he liked to discipline.
    He drew back his arm, lifting it more than previous times, and swung it fast against her bottom. Not a sound escaped her mouth. It was as if she had shut down. Her ability to adapt, to learn to cope was commendable.
    “Done,” he declared. He dropped the strap on the table and swiftly dealt with the bindings, releasing her quivering limbs. She was sobbing so softly, it wasn’t until he helped her up