I sneer at that. “More?”
“Yes, please, Master.”
Gently, I press her forehead against her arms. Then I strike her again, softer than before, each one gradually getting lighter as I bring her back down from the high she must be on. Her groans and yelps morph into soft mewling whimpers, similar to the noises a kitten might make. I step back and give her a few moments so she can realise and accept that there won’t be any more lashes today. I don’t speak until she’s completely quiet.
“Humble.”
She spreads her knees and elbows and rests her forehead against the floor. I leave her there, breathing hard, as I clean the crop and then return it to the wall. Then I put on some gloves and gently apply ointment to her welts. By the time I’m done, she’s breathing easy and seems to be relaxed.
I remove the gloves, throw them away, and then sit in my chair in the same thoughtful position as before. “Kneel.”
She changes position.
“What do you need to say to me?”
“Thank you, Master.”
I nod to show I’ve heard and then retrieve a blanket from underneath my chair. I put it around her shoulders and then guide her to a bench. She sits while I fetch her a plate of biscuits and a sweet drink. I hold her and stroke her hair as she eats and drinks, replenishing her energy. When she’s done, I put the plate and cup away and then sit beside her. She lies with her head and shoulders on my lap. I pay close attention to her as I let her doze for a short while.
As we reach the end of our session, I rouse her. She sits and blinks sleepily.
“You may get dressed.”
“Thank you, Master.”
She retrieves her clothes, gets dressed, and then stands in the attention pose in the centre of the mat. I give her the pot of lotion I’d opened just for her and then escort her to the bar. As much as anything, I’m making sure that she’s steady on her feet and that she’s okay for me to leave her alone. Some submissives, especially those who are new to the scene, need a lot more aftercare.
Once I’m sure she’s fine, I return to my dungeon to clean it so it’s ready when I return on Monday.
* * *
Our shared house is silent when I arrive home. I go to the kitchen, pour myself a scotch, and sit at the table, nursing the tumbler. I put the battered photo of me, Beau, and Mum on the table, next to the business card of a private investigator. I’ve been meaning to get in touch for months now, but I’ve never managed to work up the courage to do so.
“I thought I heard someone.”
I look up at the sound of Quinn’s voice. He’s standing in the open doorway, dressed in black jogging bottoms and a plain grey T-shirt. His straw-coloured hair is messed up, and some loose waves are falling into his eyes. I want to go to him and brush his hair back. What would it be like to run my fingers through those floppy locks?
A glance at my watch tells me it’s gone two. “How come you’re not asleep?”
He quirks one eyebrow into an amused expression. “I’ve just slept for two hours, so now I’m awake.” He goes to the fridge and pours a glass of milk. “How come you’re not asleep?”
“I’m too stimulated after work.”
“I can imagine.”
“I didn’t see you at The Library tonight.”
Quinn stares at me for a few seconds before shaking himself. “You looked for me?”
“I saw Rubin on the dance floor when I was between clients, and noticed you weren’t with him.”
Quinn’s cheeks pink a little. “I had a sleep attack right before the taxi arrived and wasn’t feeling up to it after I woke up. I’m glad Rubin went.” He sits opposite me, and his gaze falls on the photo and business card. “Is it more than cracking the whip at work that’s keeping you awake?”
“I had fun cracking a whip over someone’s back. Repeatedly.”
Quinn smirks. “I bet you did.”
I’m transfixed by his stare and that smirk for longer than I should be. Should I be reading something into it, or is he just being conversational? All my housemates know I’m a professional Dom, and while we’ve never discussed what I do in a session, I’m sure they’ve all used their imaginations. Every one of us is kinky in our own way. I know roughly what kinks most of my housemates are into, except Quinn. It’s partly because he moved in after the rest of us and also because he’s kept it close to his chest. That’s fine. It’s his business, but I can’t help but be curious, not least of all because I’d like to be the one to explore his kinks with him.
