Carrick stood motionless as Mir looked over the rack. His face was inscrutable as he watched Mir select the two belts, taking his time and examining each one. The man was obviously serious about his punishment. It was brave of him, in a way, thought Carrick. Although in his mind no Master should feel remorse over whipping a slave, even if it was undeserved - much less seek atonement himself - there was something about the act. Something about the devotion between the man before him and the boy he owned. Werewolves, he thought to himself. Who knows how their minds work?
Carrick's eyes ran dispassionately but appreciatively over Mir's body, leaving a silence long enough to become uncomfortable for the man who was about to present himself for punishment.
Finally, he indicated the same table on which Jenn had recently been whipped. "Bend over that, in the same position as your slave boy."
He had already promised Vladimir that he would be treated with dignity, and he would hold to that. However, penance would not be complete without some form of reflection; remorse that would hold the reasons for the beating fresh in Mir's mind.
Carrick stepped forwards and allowed the belt to unfurl. Once Mir was in position, he dragged the heavy leather over the bare ass in a slow caress, letting him feel the smoothly oiled surface against his skin. "Did he weep as you whipped him, your pretty slave boy? Did he beg and scream? Or was he brave enough to keep silent?"