"That's two," he said, and then he grabbed me, ripped the shorts down to my knees, pulled me across his body and held me tight with one arm around my belly. The other hand began slamming into my already painful ass.
I couldn't help it. I twisted and begged. "Please, Sir! I'll be good!" It sounded idiotic. And it had no effect. He gave me thirty strikes, alternating between sides.
"Go inside and wait for me in the bathroom."
My stomach dropped. He was going to clean me out before breakfast. I took a breath. "Yes, sir." I trudged off to the cell, an entire beautiful suite, but still a cell. Security electronically opened the locks when I got there.
They'd been watching.
They'd seen.
The door automatically closed behind me. I heard the locks fall into place. My face burned with humiliation as I made my way inside, stripped off my running clothes, and knelt on the hard bathroom tile, head up, gaze down, hands open and accepting on my knees.