Page 63 of To Catch a Sub

Landon.

Landon was scening.

Moths flew to flames that would burn them, and it was that same self-destructive urge that had Colette making her away across the room. She both didn’t want to see this and couldn’t do anything but watch.

The closer she got, the clearer she could hear the distinctive crack of paddle meeting flesh. The sub’s pale ass was bright pink, with a few distinct oval marks from particularly hard swats.

She maneuvered her way to the right side of the stage, wanting to see Landon’s face.

His dark eyes were intense and focused, his face stern and hard. He brought the paddle up in an arching motion from below, hitting the lower curves of the sub’s butt cheeks. Her ass jiggled, and she rose up on her toes.

Colette wanted to be there. Wanted it to be her crying out in pain. Even though these weren’t her favorite kinds of scenes, she wanted to be the one naked and helpless while Landon abused her.

Landon gathered the blonde’s hair in one hand, leaning in to whisper to her as he rubbed the paddle over her abused flesh. She nodded in response and he stepped back, hooking the oval paddle to his pants. Switching it out for a long rectangular paddle with holes in it.

A murmur went through the crowd, and Colette winced. She’d never been one for heavy impact play on its own merits, but she’d had almost every type of implement plied across her ass in training, and even had one faint scar from the cane.

A paddle with holes on an already well-spanked ass was going to hurt.

Landon rubbed the flat of the paddle over the sub’s body.

No, not the sub. His sub.

Landon’s sub.

Colette swallowed hard.

She’d confessed that she didn’t have anyone—no partner or Master waiting for her, but she hadn’t asked Landon that question in turn. Was the blonde his sub?

He stroked the blonde’s back, sides, and hips, then both inner and outer thighs, before finally positioning the paddle across her butt cheeks.

“Three if she minds her manners, five if she doesn’t,” Landon said, clearly speaking to the crowd.

He raised the paddle.

The crack of sound was shocking, this side of the club going momentarily quiet as those who weren’t already looking turned to find the source of the sound.

The sub moaned in apparent pleasure before saying, “One, thank you, Master Landon,” in a scratchy voice.

The second blow landed just above the first, and startled a shriek out of the sub before she thanked him.

Landon crouched and unlatched her ankles from the cross, then stood and loosened the chains that kept her arms stretched up. Had something gone wrong? Colette took a half step forward, trying to see if she was bleeding and that’s why Landon was ending the scene one strike early.

He slid the paddle between the sub’s body and the cross and used it to pull her back several steps.

“Bend,” he ordered.

She bent at the waist, palms braced on the cross where her shoulders had been a moment ago.

“Spread your legs and show everyone your cunt,” he ordered.

Colette imagined it was her up there, exposing herself because he’d ordered her to.

Landon rubbed the woman’s hanging breasts with the paddle, and she moaned and shivered.

“I’m going to strike your sit spot.” Landon’s voice was low and dark, velvet smooth but unforgiving. “You won’t be comfortable at your desk for a week.”

The blonde sighed in apparent relief. “Thank you, Sir.”