The Judgement Moon Pt. 01

"Ew!"

"They're not gross to look at," Emily told her. "The school kept a couple of them in a birdcage. They were collared and under geas to behave, so they did--but they were allowed to torment the girls in detention."

Jasni was rapt.

"A Nixi can give you--it's a kind of 'sting'--it makes a loud popping hiss and you break out in a terrible, terrible itch."

Jasni actually laughed.

"It's no laughing matter when you're in detention and there are additional horrid punishments for moving or, worse, scratching! Of course, the Nixies being unclean would target your vulva, your anus, your buttocks--"

"Oh! Yuck!" Jasni was blushing badly though.

"But they also did the tip of the nose, the soles of the feet. They were masterful at causing misery! The first girl to break her posture--we were set to copy texts as the punishment--or squirm too much or however, she was marched back and put in a pillory to be punished at the Nixie's pleasure!

"It was impossible! They'd pick who they thought was the most arrogant girl and target her to break first. They usually had no trouble breaking us. I was taken sobbing back to the pillory and my dress removed to give the Nixies a good look at my tender spots."

"And they... stung you?"

"Repeatedly. I cried. They usually made fun of us or otherwise did what they could to salt the wounds. By the end of the school term, I knew the Nixies by name and they knew me. They were a bit nicer to me then--I was far less arrogant. It was still an awful punishment!"

"Would they do something like that to me tomorrow?" Jasni asked.

"No--oh, nothing like that. For one thing, they don't have anything as exotic as caged Nixies here. For another thing, while you have a lot of catching up to do, you're a new visitor, so your service should be endurable."

"I'm sorry I disobeyed you with the bandit girl," Jasni said. Emily reached out and tousled her hair.

"Good girl--but you're still going," she said to Jasni.

Later that night, Emily returned from the out-toilets and saw the Judgment Moon, huge and low, seeming to hang eerily above the Riding Square, bathing everything in its ghostly pale light.

THE RIDING: KALVAN

Heather stepped out of her panties and made to fold them and place them aside--but Kalvan thought she probably knew better and held out his hand. Oh! Yes--of course, her face said, and she sheepishly placed them into his palm. She was reluctantly untying the apron. However compliant she had been in asking for this punishment, she was quite embarrassed to actually be nude before him. She'd just have to swallow it, he thought. This wasn't going to get any easier for her!

"Did your mother make you pee through these?" he asked archly and saw her wince.

"No, master Kalvan," she whispered, looking down. In the light of the oil lamps he could see the heavy flush in her face. He sniffed them dubiously, bringing the seat of the underwear to his nose. The look of humiliation on her face was what he'd intended.

Oh, this surely isn't going to be easy for you, Heather, he thought with sympathy.  He certainly didn't intend to terrorize the poor thing, but it was clear that she saw him as some sort of august personage in the service of his admittedly valiant mistress--and now, being punished was far harder than maybe she'd thought.

If only she knew what he went through at his mistress' keep. He thought with a grimly tinged humor. 

"All this is your natural lubrication then?" he demanded--not harshly but firmly. She drew in on herself--her bravery was already starting to fail?

"Yes, m-master Kalvan," she stammered. Her eyes were fixed firmly down.

"Then you ought wear one of the order's absorbants," he concluded, flatly. That drew a sob from her! Poor Heather! Behind the fitted shield of cured leather his mistress made him wear, his cock stiffened. He didn't necessarily relish her humiliation, but it was fetching. Oh, Heather, he thought, seeing faint tremors in her body.

Under his pants, the chastity cage he wore ached as his cock strained with an erection. His mistress had him taken to one of the rare women who achieved Mistress rank in one of the metal guilds. He had spent an embarrassing afternoon being measured by her. Not just his cock--but other dimensions--the stretch of his scrotum and the elasticity of his anus.

The cage was, indeed, a work of art. A polished blue metal that was smooth and perfectly sized. He'd taken time to get used to it. At night, erections were uncomfortable, but it had gotten easier over time. The girls taking care to stretch his scrotum had helped too, making the unwanted erections less disruptive.. Under punishment, they could become painful! The girls could take it off, so long as he was under constant observation.

When he was out with her riding, he always wore it and hesitated to think what she would do if he begged her to remove it. It was bad enough that when they stopped for him to pee, he was required to remove his pants and squat--and then she would examine him for any signs of chafing or hygiene issues.

He suspected his mistress found his humiliation at this amusing--but she didn't trouble him over it. He actually found he enjoyed riding with her, despite the various ordeals that just being in her presence posed. She had seen him utterly bereft and naked and sobbing and while her nature was not tenderness, she seemed to find him a valid 'footboy' and assistant--and for someone like her, that seemed to him to be a fair overestimation of his worth!

Now he felt the fullness in his penis within its cage. He'd still carry out his duty with Heather, though. He glanced at the window. On the second floor, the shutters were closed but he could see the dim moonlight outside. Not just the common moon, he thought. The Judgment Moon rising higher in the sky as though to get a better look at things.

Heather sniffled.

"Have you an enclave or order services here?" He asked.

"Y--yes, master Kalvan," she whimpered.

"You'll wear absorbants for the next entire moon," he decided. "The embarrassment will help train you to stay dryer and more controlled." She looked so stricken by this, her eyes welling up with tears, that he felt sorely tempted to reverse his decree!

He knew the ordeal would certainly embarrass her--but it wouldn't hurt her! His experience with the time following his Punishment Day discipline was that the things weren't even uncomfortable if not wet or soiled. She'd survive a moon of a telling bulge under her dresses without collapse.

He heard a soft, girlish giggle from beyond the door. Another very soft but sharp admonition. Her sisters! Of course they were outside the door, listening eagerly to their sibling's punishment! It had been slight, but telling and the flash in Heather's eyes told him she'd heard it too. Her eyes begged him for mercy--perhaps to send them away?  Sorry, girl, he thought. If anything, he would give them a memory to struggle with at night in their bedclothes if they thought no one was watching.

He moved one of the pillows on the bed to the center. "Lay on it, face down, Heather. Let it lift your hips."

To her credit, she moved fast and with her face in the cushion and her hips up, she even moved her ankles a bit to widen them--but only a bit.

SMACK!

"OW!" her surprised cry of pain sounded like a kicked puppy. She knew what he wanted and slid her legs to the side.

"That's right, Heather! Spread your legs. You're to have no privacy under punishment!" The reprimand got another soft noise of suffering. He surely didn't think this girl was tender--but probably being punished by a knight's 'footboy'--well, squire in her eyes--was already beyond endurance. He took one of the lamps and brought down closer where the light could give him a better look at her bottom.

As he suspected, her lengthy walk in wet jeans had given her visible chaffing along her inner thighs. She took after her mother in that she was a tall, sturdily built girl. Farmwork had given her muscles, and she had a broad bottom and her thighs would touch when she walked, if only a bit. Laboring all day in wet cloth had been quite a punishment, he thought.

Her buttocks showed signs of irritation as well, going down to be the strongest around her sex. He patted her inner thigh, and she bent her knees to give him a better view. He noted her hands clenching in the sheets. She was definitely not enjoying this. He pondered. Close to her rear, he could smell her lubrication. The scent of dried discharge. A hint of her punishment.  She was clean shaven. If her mother was a devotee, all the women of the household likely were.

He pulled one of her buttocks aside to look down on her anus. He heard her whimper loudly into the bedclothes.

He drew a finger across it. She'd certainly sweated a good deal during the day but her mother had seen fit to wipe her entire region when she'd returned home. Still: "You've got some leakage, Heather," he told her--even thought it wasn't at all clear to him that she did. However, it got the expected moan of mortification. "Some small piles as well," he said. That was true--but they were indeed small.

A louder cry. "See the order about your habits," he told her and gave her a hard spank. She began crying and trying not to make too much noise.

Her sisters, of course, had heard this, and he detected a rush of excited voices outside. She was likely sobbing too hard to hear them--but they were apparently very much enjoying her performance.

He felt a slight annoyance. The girls of his household openly enjoyed whatever discipline befell one of them (and especially him)--but this seemed worse for her. Still, her mother would be pleased, and that was what mattered to her. 

He wasn't well aware of what kinds of disciplinary equipment the household had. He imagined he could spank her and she would cry quite easily given that she was crying now--but. ..

"Don't move," he warned her. A garbled agreement came from her wet sobs and was muffled by the sheets. He stepped over to the door and opened it as quickly as he was able.

The girls were there, looking vastly alarmed as they huddled outside in the small hall. The youngest actually gasped softly and pushed her face into her sister's back, as though she might hide underneath the older girl!

"What has this household for discipline?" he asked, keeping his voice even. It wouldn't do to laugh at their looks of horror. 

To her credit, the oldest rose and, while she was blushing badly, she was able to respond. "Our mother has a basket of goods from the order, young master. I will fetch it directly." He nodded, trying to look grim.

"The named paddles downstairs," he asked. "Can you bring me the one for her and...  the... erm 'Chastiser of Brats'?"

The girl stiffened slightly, but then nodded excitedly. "Esti!" she snapped in a nicely authoritative tone. "Go fetch him Chastiser and Heather's paddle!" she clapped loudly and the youngest girl raced off in haste!

The oldest who had been introduced as "Nally" performed a well-practiced curtsey and rushed off as well--apparently hiding a smile. That left the middle sister, Salli, still on her knees where she looked up at him. He gave her a nod and a slight smile. 

"May I stay and listen, young master?" she asked, kneeling on the floor.

"... It will help make this memorable for your sister," he decided. Sorry, Heather.

The girl leapt to her feet and, to his surprise, produced three stools from another room. One for each sister. Well, this was going to be a performance, then. Poor Heather!

He walked back to the bed where Heather was caught in the throes of trying not to move as ordered, and desperately wanting to cover up--or at least beg him not to invite them all in.

He allowed her neither--he stepped next to her and lightly rubbed her buttocks.

Nally returned with a finely made basket lined with a lovingly embroidered cloth. An order credo "Obedience in Misery" was stitched into the side. 

He examined the contents and raised an eyebrow at the eldest sister.

She blushed slightly and curtsied. "Our grandmother was a punishment service acolyte," she offered. "Mother had us--but she's had ties to the order since she was born!"

He nodded. Oh, Heather, you poor girl! His cock was uncomfortably stiff in the cage. He thought that there was a slim possibility his mistress's arrival might spare the girl--if she was lucky enough that there was an immediate need for him to ride off with her--but in the silence he heard only her soft whimpers--no hoofbeats.

"Mother thanks you greatly for this service," the youngest sister, Esti, appeared in the doorway. "Your meal will be ready when you are done with Heather's lesson!"

She proudly presented both paddles. The slimmer light-wood one with her name on it: Heather. The heavy, older one with a sparkling quartz stone in the handle and the fine, if old, leather wrap.

He took both implements, testing the feel in his hands. He placed the heavier one on the bed. "Chastiser of Brats." 

"Nally," he addressed the eldest. All three were perched eagerly on their stools, looking intently at their naked sister on the bed.

"I should fetch a towel to put beneath her, young master!" she anticipated his question. "She is already leaving a spot on the covers!

"Nally!" the outraged wail from Heather.

"Silence, Heather," he told her quickly. To Nally: "Yes--that's good. I wanted to ask: does your mother use the width and breadth of these on you girls?"  There were things inside even he wasn't sure of.

She shook her head. "Not--not usually. She's certainly not adverse, though, young master. These are presented to our father--to use on our mother should he see it necessary."

"She gives these things to her husband?"

"Yes, young master," she said. He saw the embarrassment--but also her pride in her mothers's dedication. "She is very loyal to our father so I think it general that she only gets a maintenance punishment--but she tells us that when she was younger, she needed quite a lot of correction and she feels the possibility of it hanging over her helps her obedience!"

He nodded. "It would me," he said. "You are sure it is okay with her if I use some of this?"

"She insisted," said Nally. 

"Well," he said, "I'll take care of my use of them. Please fetch the towel."

Nally hurried away. He turned back to Heather. He put a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to speak softly.

"I need you to obey," he warned her gently. "Your sisters will make it difficult and more trying--but do as I say and your punishment will not be harder than required." A pause. "Do you understand me, Heather?"

She nodded her head, snuffling into the covers.

He gave her a pat. "Good girl." A pause. "Since we have an audience, our starting spanking will be a little more unusual than normal," he said. He sat on the bed. "Up and before me, Heather!"

She wasn't as fast or eager as her sisters--quite understandably--but she stood before him, head down, hair dangling, thighs tight together.

"Turn to face your sisters," he told her. And she did--he caught the little hitches in her shoulders as she was unable to stop the sobs. "Good--Now, You bend and place both forearms and elbows on the floor, hands under your head and you will spread your legs, one on either side of my body.  I'll guide you." 

It was a somewhat exotic position, called The Wheelbarrow--and it was one he had learned from his mistress. Now she was almost inverted. Her hair fell in a pool on the floor about her and her thighs spread, knees bent around either side of his body. Her buttocks and sex before him. The smell of her rose up. He could look into the folds of her sex and down between her cheeks to her darker anus. He cupped his right hand and then inserted a finger deep into her vagina.

Sattva! She was wet and tight. He felt her warmth envelop his finger. Now a second one and she gasped! He positioned it more deeply and got a sobby moan from her. Now she was mildly "held in place," his fingers deep in her, keeping her region between his knees.

POW! He brought his cupped hand down on the right cheek. She let out a soft cry. Be brave, he thought to her. POW! POW POW! POW POW!! He alternated targets, watching her broad bottom present his hand-prints and quiver from the smacks. POW-POW-POW! POP-POW--SPLAT!

He felt the timed clenches of her vagina on his fingers when he spanked. Her whines became more panicky. He didn't want to spank her too much for her to bear and spark disobedience--but it was clear the position--his fingers sunk in her as he punished was hugely difficult for her--and with her sisters watching, all but unbearable.

The sisters, for their part, sat primly and perfectly. Their backs straight, their chins up--and eyes bright. Their hands wrapped around their knees, and while they were blushing, they looked like they greatly approved of the view.

SMACK! 

"OW!"

POW-POW-POP!!

"Master!" a soft whine.

POW-POP-WHAP!!

"Master! Please!!" she begged. He stopped then, letting her buttocks sing out their pain to her. She sobbed wretchedly, the top of her head touching the floor between her hands. He slowly withdrew his fingers.

Her miserable cry floated up as they came out--dripping. They were coated--absolutely coated--in her slime and her sisters all took great notice as his fingers rose above her vulva.

"Oh, Heather! That's so gross!" Esti said, clearly wanting to rub a little salt in her sister's wounded pride. It worked, and she provoked a cry of misery which made the younger girl beam! He thought of the apprentice who had seen to his punishment more than a moon ago. That little menace had certainly been overjoyed with the job of punishing penitents!

Not releasing her from the position, he turned to the basket of torments.

He wiped his fingers on her buttocks--having her clean them with her mouth was traditional but he wanted her to stay as she was--at least for now.

He reached over and took a glass jar with a label: "Vaginal Burs." The description showed a finger (with a long woman's fingernail) pushing a cotton swab into a vaginal channel. Deeper in, pushed by the swab, was the 'bur.' He could see them in the bottle--little spiny balls the size of his thumb in various like different pastel colors. They looked soft to him. According to the overly complex label, they were composed of some kind of sugar.

The bottle's label advertised, in fancy scripts, that they were punishing, lasted about 3 hours, and would dissolve all by themselves. It promised an inescapable discomfort that would be memorable and educational for the subject. A small picture suggested they could also be used in the anus and the illustration showed the small spines breaking off in whichever channel they inhabited to irritate and prick the subject's skin--but not to tear it. 

The label said that having a bowel movement if one was in the anus would be nearly impossible due to the discomfort caused by pushing the thing along and suggested an enema or other method, if such was desired.

This looked wretched enough.

He opened the jar, unscrewing the wide lid, and, as the instructions indicated, used a small set of tongs to extract a pale purple bur. He carefully spread her vaginal lips.

The girls watching were like eager hyenas waiting for their meal. He could see sympathy, horror, and interest! The middle girl covered her mouth as he placed the burr into her sexual channel. She was aroused enough that her vaginal canal wasn't closed, so it helped the thing get deeper. He took a swab as the label showed and, holding the swab in the tongs, gently pushed the prickly looking thing deeper in.

He got a surprised cry from Heather and if it were at all easy without her falling over in a heap, she would have squirmed off him entirely.