Without a conscious thought, Crone walked toward the area where Derek was releasing Sadie from her bonds. Although she melted into her Daddy’s embrace with tears streaking over her cheeks, she radiated contentment. Her cheeky spirit might be temporarily subdued, but love shone through every gesture.
“Is there a reason Doc Quincy continues to whip a submissive who is completely disconnected from the scene?” Crone kept his voice low as he reached them, not wanting to be overheard. “Is she a patient of his?”
The redhead on the spanking bench drew his attention again. Her positioning was textbook perfect with her spine arched as she presented herself for Master Quincy. She was fully dressed. The barrier of her clothing troubled him. A proper whipping demanded skin contact to draw specific emotions the scene desired. More importantly, naked flesh offered the Dom the ability to read every subtle muscle response and every shade of pink blooming across flesh. The leather skirt concealed too much and created too many variables.
“Not presently.” Derek’s eyes flickered as he glanced over to watch the couple. “They have a special bond. He knows what she needs. There are times when he manages to break through, but it seems tonight isn’t one of them.”
“Would he mind if I intervened?” The words surprised Crone, but his instincts screamed that there was more beneath her carefully constructed walls. If there was one thing he had learned over time, it was never to ignore those instincts and to listen to the voice inside his head.
Derek kept his eyes on the couple for a few seconds before turning to Crone. “I’m sure he wouldn’t. Come, I’ll instigate the intervention.” Without further ado, he picked up his wife and walked over.
“Master Quin,” Derek interjected softly during a short hesitation of his set. “Would you mind if Master Crone took over?”
Quincy turned to Crone and shook his hand with a smile. “Glad you’re back for a visit.” His gaze was concerned as he looked back at the sub. “I know Master Crone is an expert when it comes to unlocking subs’ demons, Derek, but I’m not sure about this. Without warning or preparation?”
“Usually, I would agree with you but look at her, Quin.” Derek gestured at the sub. “She’s completely disconnected and doesn’t even realize you stopped. How is that serving her in any way?”
Quincy sighed. “You’re right. She hasn’t been in it from the get-go.”
“Don’t worry, Quincy. I’ll introduce myself first and make sure she realizes there has been a switch.” Crone placed his toy bag on the floor and retrieved his favored David Morgan tail whip. It was six feet of braided perfection that sang through the air with deadly accuracy. He’d chosen a shorter one since he hadno intention of moving the sub to a Saint Andrew’s cross or a whipping post.
Draping the fall over his shoulder, he circled the spanking bench, assessing her as he went. She was art in human form with long auburn hair cascading over one shoulder. The deep green of the leather vest and skirt was a striking contrast against her pale skin. A delicate yet athletic build stirred loose a seam of desire, which surprised him. After Sarah’s death, he usually only became aroused during a scene, hardly ever from looking at a woman’s body. The intricate pattern of a thorns and roses tattoo climbing her arm from shoulder to elbow caught his attention—beautiful art to hide the kind of pain he understood.
Crouching before her, he studied her face. His assessment was spot-on as behind her closed lids, he detected minute tensions. There was a slight tightening around her mouth and a barely perceptible furrow between flawlessly shaped brows. Her body might project serenity, but her face revealed inner turmoil. He drew a deep breath. She was beautiful in a classic sense with high cheekbones accentuating the delicate structure of her face, while full lips held a natural pout even in repose. A dusting of freckles across her nose added an unexpected softness to her otherwise striking features.
He remained silent, patient… waiting. As a Dom, he believed the most powerful move was stillness itself. A quiet that would trigger her curiosity and force her to acknowledge the shift in energy around her.
When her eyes finally fluttered open, his breath caught at their intensity. It was impossible not to drown in their forest-green depths. He was struck by the shadows swirling with signs of secrets and darkness. Even through the practiced disconnect she was still caught in, her gaze revealed a shattered, tired soul who had seen too much and endured even more.
“Oh!” she gulped, her eyes widening briefly before she quickly lowered her gaze, nibbling on her lower lip.
“No. Eyes on me, sub.” His dark growl demanded immediate obedience. She didn’t disappoint him.
“W-who are you? Where is Master Quin?”
“You mean the Dom you humiliated in front of the entire Dungeon with your disconnect? That Master Quin?”
The brilliant green of her eyes dulled with regret. Her body twisted, straining against the restraints as she searched for Quincy over one shoulder.
“I’m not the kind of Dom who repeats himself. I told you to keep your eyes on me. Do not let me have to tell you again.” She froze mid-movement as his voice dropped to a low, warning rumble.
“I don’t understand. Why... where is he? Why did he stop?” Panic edged into her tone, acting like she had seen him before, and maybe she had, but Crone knew he’d never seen her... except...
Recognition flickered through Crone’s mind as he studied her face. Those haunting green eyes had caught his attention earlier in the lounge during a brief magnetic moment before Jagger called his regard away. Now they held a raw desperation that ignited a primal need within his soul.
“Master Derek and I believe you need a different kind of Dom. One who understands how hard and far to push your boundaries until they bend. Perhaps then you’ll break free of this disconnect and truly acknowledge the needs buried inside you instead of lying here unresponsive.”
He cursed himself silently as she winced at his harsh words. His hand moved of its own accord, tucking a wayward strand of auburn hair behind her ear with unexpected gentleness.
“It’s time to let yourself feel, little one. That same yearning echoes within me. Shall we chase that elusive euphoric cloud together?”
“I… with all due respect, Sir, I don’t know you, and I only ever scene with the Doms at Rawhide Ranch.” Her voice wavered despite her visual attempt at firmness.
“My name is Master Crone, and you’re in luck.” His deep voice carried authority tempered with understanding. “I’ve just accepted a position at the Ranch. Does that ease your mind?”
“I… since Master Derek intervened with the scene, I suppose it does.” She studied him for long moments, her gaze drawn to the scar partially visible from the wave of hair falling over his forehead. The muscles in her tattooed arm tensed visibly. “Very well, Master Crone. We can continue with the scene.”
“That makes me very happy, little one. After watching your performance with Master Quin, I’ve decided to make two adjustments to the scene.”
