Lesson for a Little Bird

“Why don’t you take those clothes off?” the man said in a low, gruff voice. “Can’t see you with all that fabric in the way. Not even sure you’re really a girl under there.”

He took a swig of wine from his goblet, and Wren gave him a tight smile.

“Of course, sir. As you wish.”

She could never be certain if a patron would want to watch her undress or do it himself - if she should disrobe as quickly as possible or make a show out of it. This particular man wiped a trail of wine dripping down his double chin carelessly with the back of his hand, and leered at her with sallow eyes, his cheeks downright russet-colored with how keen he was, snide commentary aside. The chair creaked under his weight as he shifted, but he made no move to get up.

Striptease it is, she decided. She ever so slowly pulled the ties of her dressing gown loose, letting the brightly colored layers of fabric slip from her shoulders to reveal her small breasts, then her soft belly, and finally her wide hips. He licked his lips, staring intently at her naked body. You can tell I’m a girl now, can’t you, you disgusting pig? she thought smugly, the flickering lamplight dancing over her gentle curves.

She held out her hand and led him to the bed, sashaying her hips in the way she knew most men appreciated. As they went, she pulled the pins from her hair, shaking loose her long auburn curls. By the time she’d plopped down on the bed and spread herself out in a manner that was somehow both wanton and demure, he was utterly captivated. She gave him a coy smile.

This wasn’t Wren’s first time. No, that pleasure had been sold years prior for a hefty price to a slender old man with thin graying hair. He’d smelled so strong of incense that it burned her eyes, but she’d lay back on the cushions, keeping perfectly still, heart pounding in her chest, and allowed him to untie her robe and then climb on top of her. It hadn’t been that bad. After the initial hurt, and some sweaty grunting, it had ended rather quickly. The Madam’s foresight to use a bit of lamp oil in preparation had been a blessing. Though she kept her eyes screwed shut and barely moved the entire time, the man hadn’t seemed to mind.

Things got much easier from there. Wren was a quick learner, luckily, since once her virginity had expired, she’d needed to employ a few more tricks to keep clients happy, tipping well, and coming back for more. Wren took great pride in how quickly she had adapted to the profession, and though she would never admit it, she was one of the most pompous girls in the brothel, often condescending to even the older, more experienced whores. It didn’t make her any friends, but it did line the Madam’s pockets and ensure Wren had a rather comfortable, easy life. Selling one’s body made more money than any other work available to women in her world, and she was proud of her success.

“Why don’t you get more comfortable?” she asked the chubby man, feigning timidity as she reached for the front of his trousers. He nodded dumbly, and, with a well-hidden smirk, she unfastened them and reached inside to palm his stubby erection.

He was, unsurprisingly, impatient and soon pushed her back on the bed. A part of her was quite honestly pleased that he had some backbone so that they could just get it over with. She let out a resigned sigh that the dolt probably interpreted as lustful as she spread her legs and let him shuffle on his knees between them. The man took his cock in his hand, pushed it forward and ... tried to stick it into the wrong hole!

Wren yelped at once and pushed a little less than gently at his chest, kicking out her legs and scrambling away from him on the bed. He frowned, angry lines forming on his round face. She took a deep breath, recovering quickly.

“Silly boy,” she said lightly, though she was thinking fucking moron. She giggled and trailed her nails down his hairy chest. Fluttering her lashes, she expertly tried to smooth the awkward waters. “Let me help …”

She made as if to guide him, but he smacked her hands away from his groin. “I don’t think so, pigeon. I paid for you, and I’ll have you exactly how I want.”

He shoved her roughly onto her back, and Wren made a high, dismayed sound as he gripped her around the back of one thigh with a meaty hand and pushed her hips up practically off the bed. With his free hand, he once again began prodding his cock against her anus, the mere beginning of the stretch making her wince from the sting.

“No!” she shouted and, in a panic, slapped him across the face. The sharp sound echoed loudly, and a red hand-print bloomed on his wobbling cheek.

She regretted it almost immediately, panting from the adrenaline as she stared in wide-eyed horror at what she’d done.

“You bitch!” the man roared, drawing his hand back.

Wren cringed and closed her eyes, waiting to be struck, but the blow was interrupted by the Madam’s voice, “What in the Heavens is going on in here? Please, good sir, tell me what is the matter?”

Wren hadn’t even heard the middle aged woman slip into the room. Though the Madam was all smiling deference to the patron, Wren could tell by the way her face twitched that she was radiating fury. Wren’s goose was cooked. She swallowed hard, heart jack-rabbiting in her chest.

The man scowled. “I thought this was an upstanding establishment. I paid good money for this whore,” he pointed at Wren and she kept her head bowed, hands folded in her lap, “but it turns out she’s too good to take a cock up her arse! She hit me!”

“Is that so?” The Madam shot a quick glare at Wren who pretended to study her nails, hunching her shoulders in on herself. “Well, that just won’t do. My humblest apologies, sir. I guarantee this girl will be punished.”

He snorted, but the Madam continued, “I beg your pardon, sir, but would you like the opportunity to observe her punishment? It’s only fair.”

Wren’s heart sank, her cheeks flushing dark red. Of course, the man nodded eagerly, giving her a haughty leer.

“Very well! Please take your time getting dressed, sir, and then come along to the common area. We will see to this deplorable behavior post haste!”

The Madam grabbed Wren by the wrist and wrenched her up off the bed, dragging her, naked, out of the room. The patron quickly fastened his trousers and hurried after them, looking as pleased as the cat that ate the canary. The Madam’s nails dug into Wren’s flesh as she pulled her, stumbling, into the central room of the brothel.

It was a larger space than the private bedrooms, available only for repeat customers (for an extra fee, of course!) It was meant for food and drink, socializing, and allowing the most popular girls to entertain and tempt the men to purchase their services. A little foreplay for loyal patrons.

Most of the brothel girls were at most only half-dressed, so nobody paid much mind to another naked prostitute being hauled in by the Madam.

The woman cleared her throat, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, friends, but it seems we have a disciplinary problem to attend to this evening.”

Conversation slowly ceased as everyone in the room turned to look. Wren blushed even darker. She was not typically ashamed of her naked body, but this was different. This was intentional humiliation; being paraded nude into the room as an object of disgrace.

“One of my little birds has flown astray, and in this brothel, we do not permit such misbehavior to go unpunished.” The Madam continued, “Further, I believe that chastisement with an audience adds a crucial element of humility to the lesson, ensuring the disobedience is nipped in the bud. Though I do understand if anyone here finds such a thing distasteful. Please, retire to a private room now if you do not wish to observe.”

Nobody moved. In fact, there were several chuckles and lascivious grins. Wren's boorish patron, who had started all this trouble, plopped down on a chaise near the front of the room, grinning. Wren shuddered.

“Very good!” The Madam clapped her hands and smiled. “Robyn, Aya, would you drag that table up here, please. Ava, be a dear and go and fetch a strap from my room, would you? The thinnest one.”

The girls scurried to obey, looking far too smug and pleased over this turn of events. Due to Wren’s wretched attitude, these girls were not friends, but rivals. Plus, they knew that watching a public thrashing of a girl as pretty as Wren would stoke the men’s lust; meaning that after, they'd each be blessed with a quick, easy fuck and a generous tip. Seeing the haughty know-it-all Wren knocked down a peg or two was simply an added bonus

Blood rushed loudly in Wren’s ears. Of course, she’d had good reason to suspect she was going to be beaten for her indiscretion, but now it was absolutely certain. She was no stranger to the rod, and had been over the Madam’s knee countless times during training. This was par for the course, but that had been when she was far younger, practically a child. Discipline for whores already beyond their training was a grave, shameful affair, and she squirmed in dread, wishing she hadn’t let her pride and nerves guide her foolish actions. Would it have been that bad to just grit her teeth and let the man fuck her in the arse? It would have been less humiliating, surely, than being spanked like a child in front of a room of leering patrons and smirking prostitutes.

Ava returned, practically skipping into the room holding out a wicked looking narrow strap with a gleeful, malicious grin. The younger girl was a major thorn in Wren’s side with her constant petty comments and obnoxious arse kissing to the Madam.

“Here, Ma’am,” Ava chirped, handing the implement over. As she passed by Wren, the little brat had the gall to stick her tongue out, and Wren wished with all her heart it were Ava about to be publicly disciplined instead. The girl flitted to the back of the room to sit on a man’s lap, both of them looking eager and ready to enjoy the show.

Robyn and Aya, both older than Wren, had already cleared and positioned the wooden table where the Madam had instructed, and were standing by waiting for further orders.

“Wren,” the Madam began her lecture, “it is not your place to refuse a patron like you did, much less to assault one. You have embarrassed me terribly with your behavior, and so now you will suffer pain and indignity of equal measure. Climb onto the table and lie on your back.”

Confused, Wren crawled up and laid down, looking up towards the ceiling. She awkwardly adjusted her feet, unsure of how to place them, finally settling on bending her knees and bringing them as close together as possible. It was a humbling posture, and she felt extremely reluctant to expose her cunt to the room of curious, horny gawkers. Wren had been expecting a spanking, but now was fretting over what terrible punishment the Madam had planned that would require her to be in this odd position.

The woman smacked the strap against her palm, and Wren tensed, but she only tapped the tops of Wren’s feet lightly with her hand before instructing, “Scoot your bottom to the edge of the table.” Wren grudgingly obeyed, wriggling awkwardly forward. “That’s it, now lift your legs. Hands behind your knees. Spread your thighs apart. Yes, just like that.”

This was absolutely mortifying. Wren was bent nearly in half, spread open and hugging her knees to her chest, trembling. Everything between her legs was displayed to the crowd. The skin of her bottom was pulled taut, and she could feel the cool air of the room on her stretched open cunt and anus. Her face was boiling hot in shame. This was an outrageously humiliating position to be spanked in, but she closed her eyes and steeled herself. She could take it. She had no choice.

“If you can’t hold this position for the duration of your punishment, then I’ll have you tied down, and it will be worse. Do you understand?”

Swallowing a thick lump in her throat, Wren only managed to nod. Nervous sweat broke out across her forehead.

“Very good. Let’s begin.”

Without further preamble, the Madam whipped the narrow strip of leather down sharply: right against Wren's exposed arsehole!

Wren shrieked and nearly came up off the table, arching her back and clenching her buttocks together, fingers scrabbling desperately at her backside in a futile attempt to claw away the pain. She’d expected to be whipped on the bottom, not directly on her tender, wrinkled anus! She planted her feet on the table and gave the Madam a desperate, pleading look, chin wobbling.

“Please, no! Not there!” she begged.

The crowd exploded into a roar of laughter, enjoying her predicament to an unseemly degree. Once the noise settled, The Madam only clicked her tongue.

“I’m disappointed, Wren.” She snapped her fingers at Robyn and Aya, and the girls approached bearing several lengths of thick rope. “Of course I’m going to whip your naughty bottom-hole. That tight little passage was shamefully unprepared to fulfill its duty this evening, and so clearly needs to be thoroughly punished to learn its proper place!”

Those words were absurdly embarrassing, and Wren boo-hooed in anguish as she submitted to being bound, whimpering while the girls forced her back into the humiliating position: this time with thick, scratchy rope looped securely behind her knee-hollows, tightly drawn to keep her thighs up and spread. They also tied her wrists securely above her head. The ropes were snug, unyielding, and she could only stare at the ceiling in numb terror and wait as the sweat beaded along her hairline.

“Let’s try again, shall we?” the Madam said. “Your lack of discipline is appalling, but I’m not surprised. This lesson is clearly far overdue.”

Then the nasty little strap came down hard along Wren’s tender bottom groove with a loud snap! A line of fire was lit between her buttocks, and Wren screamed, writhing fruitlessly in her bindings. Another lick struck her between the cheeks, setting her tender skin aflame once more. And so it went. No matter how much Wren begged, the Madam showed no mercy, whipping the leather down again and again along the girl’s stretched open arsehole.

Wren tensed and squealed at every stroke as blazing hot, burning agony was lit on her most delicate, intimate skin. She thrashed and struggled, tugging at the ropes to no avail. The Madam never missed her target: which was the groove of skin between her nether cheeks, as well as the tiny wrinkled anus in the center!

Even worse was that after each blow, the room erupted into raucous cheers and applause, the crowd delighting in her misery. The Madam, whether intentional or not, even allowed the tip of the strap to occasionally sting her exposed pussy, eliciting joyous shouts from the crowd and particularly shrill cries from Wren. The only silver lining was that the revelry almost drowned out Wren’s wails and desperate howls as the crack of her arse was whipped into a fiery inferno.

When the strapping finally stopped, Wren had ceased struggling and merely lay still, sobbing in defeat. The skin between her buttocks was downright smoldering, and had turned a dark, angry red, puffy welts framing the inflamed little pucker.

“There now,” the Madam said, giving Wren’s bottom a condescending pat while the other girls untied her.

It took Wren much effort to stand, and then almost immediately she grabbed her buttocks to spread them apart in an attempt to relieve some of the throbbing raw agony between them. Of course, this made the crowd wolf whistle and clap in response. Wren didn’t even care. All the bravado had been whipped right out of her.

“I suspect you won’t have any more trouble with her,” the Madam said to Wren's hefty patron who was staring at Wren with renewed, unbridled lust. The woman smacked the girl sharply against her naked buttock and nodded towards the door. “Go on then. You still have a job to finish.”

Wren’s jaw dropped. “B-but, Ma’am … ”

She couldn’t possibly mean for Wren to take that man’s cock in her well-punished arsehole now, could she?!

The Madam crossed her arms, still clutching the thin strap menacingly in her hand. “If you have any further complaints, we can repeat the lesson again first.” She raised an eyebrow.

Wren snapped her mouth shut and shook her head so hard her sweaty hair flew into her face. “No! No, of course not, Ma’am.”

“Come along, girl,” the man said with a smirk.

Resigned to her fate, Wren followed, walking stiffly. The Madam offered one last parting bit of advice, “In the future, I’d keep a little jar of oil on the nightstand. For next time.”

~

The Madam was clearly still annoyed the next morning since first thing, she took Wren over her knee for a sound spanking. Once Wren's bottom had been spanked a brilliant shade of dark pink, the woman inserted a thick finger of ginger root up the girl’s pink, swollen anus. The root was burning, itching torment inside Wren’s raw, stretched arsehole. Furthermore, it turned out there was ample supply of ginger in the kitchen, and the Madam was diligent in replacing each ginger plug with a fresh one every time the effects began to fade. Much to Wren's anguish.

Wren spent the remainder of the day scrubbing the floors by hand, naked and crying on all fours, her bottom-hole ablaze. This was, coincidentally, much like she had spent the previous evening after her punishment, and she shuddered at the memory of it. She vowed to never need this particular lesson repeated.

From then on, Wren made certain to keep a small pot of oil next to her bed. She was, after all, a quick learner.