He loved how she was taking this punishment. Damn, he loved her so much. But he didn’t love her freezing him out. And not showing up when she said she would.
“Fifteen, Sir!” Ivy shrieked but kept in position.
Gabe smiled, his heart swelling. She had always accepted him as he was, and he strived to do the same for her.
“Sixteen, Sir.”
Her voice hitched, and he knew she was struggling. But damn, he wanted to push her.
On the next strike, he landed the cane right on top of the angry stripe with the lightest flick.
“God, that hurts! Seventeen, Sir.”
And before she could recover, he sent the cane flying.
“Eighteen, nineteen, Sir!”
Her head hung down, and her arms trembled slightly, but she kept them above her head.
Gabe took a step closer to her, swished the cane through the air once, twice, and then landed it right across her ass.
“Twenty, Sir!” Ivy yelled.
Gabe dropped the cane on the table. Then his hands glided to Ivy’s waist. “Good girl for taking that caning.”
He touched the red stripes, and she hissed, her shoulder blades flexing with tension. “Beautiful marks, Princess.”
He cupped the back of her neck and turned her towards him. Damn, he loved the tears streaking down her cheeks. “Good girl.”
He kissed her tears away, gently sealing his mouth against hers.
She let out a sob, and he swallowed it, kissing her deeply, imprinting her with praise by the touch of his lips to hers. He took her over to the couch and settled her on his lap.
“I am proud of you for obeying.”
She closed her eyes and snuggled into him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her, breathing in her familiar scent.
“I liked it, Sir. I felt put in place, and I got how disjointed you were by my actions.”
His cock throbbed as he held her. She wanted this kind of structure, and he’d always been hesitant, preferring to keep their D/s in the bedroom and at the club. He loved she was a strong, independent woman, and he knew how much her work meant to her. He didn’t want to be forgotten as she climbed the next ladder.
“Spread those legs for me.”
Gabe squirted lube into his palm, then reached for the vibrator, flicking it on.
Ivy moaned as it pulsed against her.
“Who do your orgasms belong to?”
“You, Sir.” Her voice was thick with desire.
Waiting until he saw her toes curl, he turned off the vibe.
“Sir!” Her eyes flew open.
“No masturbating while I’m away.”
She opened her mouth as if to protest, then thought better of it. “Yes, Sir.”
