Suffer through the spanking.

You have spanked a few lovers before who have displeased you, but you have never been on the receiving end. You are use to the pains of the adventurous life, but this makes you feel like some foolish school girl not a famed freebooter.

You decided to take this new humiliation. Better to be spanked than taken in sodomy. Besides as a warrior of Northrock you can take anything this royalist can dish out. You resolve not to move or make a sound.

Smack! He continues to spank you, alternating between each cheek.

You take the next dozen smacks stoically. You have endured worse pain than a mere spanking but each strike stings a bit more as your ass grows more tender.

As the count gets into the thirties, it really starts to smart. Each spank causes you to shake your ass just a bit to try to find some relief from the stinging. Into the fifties your hands turn white as they clench down on the sides of the cot with all their might. Your ass now sways back and forth with each spank, sometimes you have to shake it up and down to deal with the hurt, all of which causes your unsupported breasts to swing back and forth. This presents quite an unintentional show for Sir Richard?s viewing pleasure.

Through the sixties he doesn?t stop. You refuse to give in but all pretense of trying to keep still is gone. With the sixty-ninth spank you cry out for the first time, ?fuck that hurts?, as you arch your back while your breasts bounce wildly up and down.

Smack . . . smack . . . smack! Your punishment methodically goes on.

By number eighty you are groaning or swearing with each spank. A new problem confronts you, however. The spanking has surprisingly aroused you, and you are growing closer to an orgasm. The next four spanks hurt, but your groans turn more into moans as you feel you sex swell towards the exploding point.

With eighty-five he stops. ?My hand is getting tired? he laughs. You try to catch your breath, pleased that you didn?t give him the pleasure of seeing you cum from his spanking.

You straighten up and rub your poor abused sore ass.

"I didn't say we were done thief," he smirks. "You still have forty to go."

"Forty!" you cry. "Are you fucking crazy!"

"You are certainly no lady with that mouth of yours," Sir Richard says with a smile. "Though you are tough, I will give you that, any lady of the court would be sobbing by ten. To become a knight in my order a squire most suffer through a bitching of one hundred and twenty-vie strikes. I thought you could handle the same standard as a teenage boy."

You give him an angry glare but remain silent.

"Your fire impresses me thief, I will make you a wager. If you take another forty without crying out I will spare your ass and only take you in the normal way of men and women. If you cry out then not only do I get your ass but first you have finish the full forty plus another twenty. What do you say thief? Can a she-buccaneer take the same as a squire of the king?"