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The Masters and lone Mistress were murmuring amongst themselves. Bodie was the only submissive permitted to be here, apparently, and she must have been given orders to remain silent until spoken to.
Heavy boots thudded slowly down the pit steps, ominously. Archie's spine discovered it could straighten another inch through sheer intimidation. She felt his presence behind her before his fingertips stroked over her rigid shoulders...then grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged her head back. “Open those eyes, little bit, and acknowledge the people you've so rudely ignored over the past fourteen days. The people you've worried.”
The first person she made eye contact with was Braun, as luck would have it. Those blue eyes of his flared with that unyielding cold edge. Of all the Masters to piss off, he was probably the one she should have avoided ignoring. But it was too late to go back now; she'd cast her die in the throes of depression and now she was harvesting the results.
Boadicea met her eyes next, and the pity, the sympathy in them, brought tears to Archie's eyes and choked her. She swallowed several times to rid herself of the thick lump in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment to keep the physical evidence of her distress from showing.
To protect herself further, Archie turned her head toward Loki, grimacing as the movement twisted Atticus's fingers in her hair. Her pussy clenched at the tugs of pain in her scalp, and it was better to focus on that than the look of disappointment on the usually jovial Master's face. She could handle a lot but disappointing the people she knew and loved...well, that was a punishment in a class of its own.
Master Liam and Mistress Connie sat together. They looked as though they belonged together, would probably make a nice couple if they both weren't geared toward dominance. But as the pair of them stared down at Archie on her knees, she was suddenly thankful they weren't working as a team. There was no defense against them—hell, against any of them.
“Is there anything you want to say before we get your punishment underway, Anarchy?”
Jesus, he was really pushing the schedule, wasn't he? Part of her knew this was for effect, to make her see what her actions had made the others feel. To walk back into a place she considered home and not be welcomed back? It gouged a hole in her heart. Well, what was left of it after Jasper annihilated the poor organ in his haste to get rid of her.
This was like facing a firing squad with her hands tied behind her back and her mouth gagged.
“I...I'm sorry,” she whispered. She couldn't let her head drop; Atticus's grip was absolute. “I'm sorry, Sir.”
“I know you are, little bit. Get through this and everything is forgiven.” He gave her hair a sharp tug that made her pussy spasm, then released her. “Loki, Liam, if you wouldn't mind taking Anarchy up onto the stage and settling her onto the bench, I need to go get my cane.” When she shuddered, his fingers squeezed her nape. “Go with them, Anarchy.”
Don't have much choice there, chief,she thought, shrinking back as the two Masters rose and approachedher. They looked grim, which didn't do much for her anxiety as it began to inch into existence, and they didn't say anything as they grasped her arms and lifted her to her feet. Atticus was already out of the pit and walking briskly toward the walkway connecting the social room to the second barn.
Her heartbeat picked up rhythm as she was escorted up the three little steps out of the pit and across to the next set leading onto the stage. Some kind individual had focused the spotlights onto the examination table in the center, leaving the rest of the space in shadow. She couldn’t recall ever seeing this particular piece of equipment being utilized in Avalon, and she'd been witness to a lot of scenes.
It wasn't quite a medical exam table, and it couldn't be called a spanking bench. There were thick metal poles at each corner, curled at the top like shepherd’s crooks. Thickly padded cuffs were attached with a couple of chain links to the curved ends of the steel, dangling innocently in the lights. The bench top was firmly padded and looked unused, the material smooth and unmarked.
“Sit down, Anarchy.” As one, both men let go of her arms, but only Loki spoke. His voice lacked the constant hum of humor she'd grown accustomed to. Instead, it was just flat and authoritative, as though she was nothing more than a recalcitrant submissive.
That's me put in my place,she thought morosely, sitting down on the edge of the equipment nervously and folding her hands between her thighs. She took a moment to glance around, noting that the rest of the gathering hadn't moved from their prime viewing spot in the pit.
“Anarchy, stand and strip. I want you naked and laid on your back by the time I count to twenty.” Atticus's voice throbbed from the shadows. “Liam, you have the remote?”
“It's in my pocket,” the blond Dom confirmed as he patted his pocket. His gray eyes were watching Archie with interest as she hurriedly began to strip; she began to tremble under their scrutiny and the time constraint. He moved her clothes out of the way as they dropped to the floor.
Breathing in tatters, she heard Master Atticus counting down the remaining seconds and all but threw herself onto the bench before the last item of clothing fluttered to the wooden floor. Her fingers gripped the edge of the padding, tightening as the immense form of her Master filled her vision, turning three Dominants into a solid wall of power.
“Isn't she beautiful?” Atticus asked his cohorts as they scrutinized her. They folded their arms over their chests in unison, the cane in Atticus's right hand angled behind him. It was thin and reedy; she'd seen the welts it could leave on her skin. “Someone hasn't been taking very good care of herself in her Master's absence, has she? No showering, no housework, no routine for eating or sleeping. Looks like you've lost some weight, pretty girl; Master Jasper will not be pleased.”
She stared up at the rigging above her head, the ropes controlling lights and curtains. “He didn't care enough to stay, Master Atticus. Why would he care what state he left me in?” She knew she shouldn't drag up old issues, but part of her still resented what Jasper had done. The ease with which he'd done it. “I'll take the punishment for making everyone worry, Master Atticus, but my reasons are my own and won't change. I won't apologize for needing time to myself.”
The tip of the cane tapped on her inner thighs sharply, eliciting a hiss between her teeth. “I didn't ask for you to speak, little bit. Our problem here is that you shut us out. Just cut us out of your life after nearly a year, ignoring all our attempts to make sure you were okay.”
Archie winced, muscles tensing against the next volley of taps. She was beginning to see why subs feared the cane if it offered such pain with the lightest blows. Oddly enough, the threat of that whippy bitch didn't summon forth her submissive side but crooked a finger at her inner brat to come play. Maybe she was a glutton for punishment, or maybe...somewhere deep down inside, she knew she deserved this for causing her friends to worry. “You were his friends before you were mine, Master Atticus.”
Silence fell at her mumbled words. She flinched, shrinking into the bench as a shadow fell over her, then Atticus's face blocked out her view of the ceiling. His green eyes were so dark with fury, they were verging on turning black. “That's no excuse,” he told her grimly. He used the intimidating glare to hold in her position for a long few seconds, then stepped away. “No matter. When I'm done with you tonight, you'll understand what it means to rely on your friends and accept their offers of help.”
The two somber Masters approached, silent and grim. She jolted when two sets of warm hands picked her up and flipped her onto her stomach, moving her down the bench until she was bent over it at the waist. She jolted as they wrapped padded cuffs around her legs, just above the ankle. They fit snugly, so much so there was only a finger's worth of space between flesh and fleece. When Liam and Loki rose and stepped back, she tried to move her legs...and met almost immediate resistance. Chained to the legs of the bench, she suffered an acute wave of panic and shoved herself upright, only for a firm hand to press between her shoulder blades and push her back down.
“It’s okay, Archie,” Liam murmured, his hand gentler than his tone. He left his hand between her shoulder blades; not in comfort but as a warning, she thought. “Your safeword still stands. You’re not alone. Just relax and breathe.”
She felt alone. She’d turned everyone against her, hadn’t she, and then handed herself over to pay the price. Shoving the ache of loneliness away, she sighed brokenly and closed her eyes.
“Loki and Liam volunteered to help me with your punishment,” Atticus said casually, and she heard the cane swoosh through the air with lazy intent. Her ass responded, clenching tight. “Liam will keep you in place during your warm-up; fight him and his hand will be replaced with a strap.”
Her ass felt like a bullseye pointed in Atticus's direction. She twitched as his weapon of choice sliced through the air again and blew out a breath. Liam's fingers flexed gently but offered no reprieve. He was just another tool in Atticus's arsenal.
“Four strokes, Anarchy. When I give you a time limit to complete a task...”
