The oil warmed beneath his palms as he worked it into her skin. Her body responded traitorously, arching into his touch when he kneaded the tender flesh. His hands never left her body. One always maintained contact while the other moved. The constant touch kept her in the moment instead of allowing her to retreat into her head.
“Remember your safe words. Yellow when you’re overwhelmed and need a pause, red to stop. Use them without hesitation when necessary.” His thumbs worked small circles into the muscles of her bottom, releasing tension with each brush over her skin. “The oil creates a protective barrier and allows me to control the intensity of each strike precisely.”
Despite being bound and exposed before this powerful Dom, panic remained curiously absent. His methodical preparation and steady stream of explanation wrapped around her like a shield. This man wielded his strength with grace, not force.
"Oh my." The quiet hiss slipped unbidden past her lips, as his palms traveled the softness of her skin in slow, claiming sweeps. Every place he touched bloomed with heat, her nerve endings rousing from their long slumber like petals unfurling toward the sun.
He leaned closer, and the warmth of his breath brushed the delicate shell of her ear, carrying the faint scent of expensive cologne. A trembling sweetness traced its way down the length of her spine when his voice dropped to that low, intimate whisper meant only for her.
“Now, kitten... let us begin.”
The promise threaded through those three quiet words should have sent her bolting for the door. Instead, anticipation coiled tight and molten in the hollow of her belly, spilling outward in slow, honeyed waves that softened her knees and quickened her pulse. Her body remembered this dance even when her mind tried to forget.
“I’m ready…” Her voice wavered. Without being told, she knew this time it would be different. “I hope.”
His rich, deep chuckle resonated through her as the sound wrapped around her racing pulse, steadying it. The laugh offered understanding and perhaps a hint of approval. It soothed the edge of nervousness that had crept into her bones, replacing it with an unexpected calm.
“We’ll start easy.” The falls whispered through the air before landing with a delicate brush against her skin. Each stroke was a mere kiss against her flesh, raising the temperature degree by degree. Her skin tingled in the wake of each strike. The falls connected with her bottom in a mesmerizing pattern—left to right, top to bottom as each impact was carefully placed.
He stepped closer. “Hmm,” she moaned as his large hands smoothed over her heated flesh.
“Hmm, indeed... perfect and so nicely warmed up.” His breath burned hot against her ear as he leaned in. Strong fingers coiled around her hair, turning her head until their eyes met. “Now the real whipping begins, Sienna. My goal is to make you fly, then float, and finally to release you from the shackles you allow to bind you to the past.”
The words struck deeper than any whip could.
Release me? With all due respect, Sir, that’s impossible.
Two years of therapy, and numerous scenes with trusted Doms, and still nothing had freed her fromthat day’shorror. The memories were all she had to keep her going… and the promise of revenge against Stan for killing her baby sustained her. Without that… it didn’t bear thinking of.
“No.” His voice cut through her thoughts with the sharpness of a blade. “You stay in this scene with me, Sienna. If your mind wanders, I’ll know and my whip will draw you back.” The dark promise in his tone dragged her attention fully to him. “Be warned. I’m not Master Quincy. I want your attention with me and only me during this scene. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Master Crone.” The words escaped in a stuttering breath, and she realized with surprise that she meant them.
The first real strike landed with purpose. “Oww!” Her breath caught at the sharp sting. Each subsequent blow built upon the last, creating layers of sensation that spread across her flesh. The falls struck in exact patterns and a steady rhythm that demanded her focus.
When her mind threatened to drift, he knew, and the whip found a tender spot, snapping her attention back. Her cries echoed through the Dungeon as the intensity grew. The pain should have driven her deeper into herself, but instead, it began to chip away at the walls around her soul.
Master Crone paused, and then he was there, pressing against her back.
“Oh god,” she whimpered as his palm spread flat across her stomach while his other hand traced the heated welts on her buttocks.
“Easy, little one. Allow it to build. Each strike will break another chain, I promise.” His words rumbled through her body. “Stay with me.”
I am, Master Crone, her fevered mind whimpered.For once I can’t slip away. That in itself felt like freedom and offered her hope.
Each strike kept building upon the last, creating layers of intensity that spread across her flesh. The falls found every sensitive spot and every time her mind threatened to drift, the whip snapped her attention back with unerring accuracy.
Her full-bodied cries filled the Dungeon as the force increased. Pain radiated through her body in waves, not breaking her but reshaping. The steady rhythm became a heartbeat. First the strike that stung, then burned, and finally blissful release.
Master Crone varied his technique in sharp flicks that sparked her nerve endings with broader strokes that spread heat across her skin, and heavy impacts that drove deep into muscle. Her body danced under his control, jerking with each strike, yet held secure by the bonds.
Tears sprang to her eyes as he built to a crescendo. The pain should have driven her deeper into herself, but instead it stripped away her defenses. Each impact chipped at the walls around her heart, creating hairline fractures in her carefully maintained control. A firm grip on her hip kept her focused through a particularly intense series.
“I… I… this is too much,” she whimpered as gentle fingers wiped away tears before the falls painted fresh paths of fire across her skin.
“Give me a color, little one,” he cooed in her ear as his warm hands wormed in between her body and the spanking bench to circle her waist and gently squeezed her breasts. Heat exploded within her. All thoughts of giving up evaporated at that one touch.
“I… probably hovering on the edge of orange, Master Crone… but…” She drew a calming breath and then he placed a devastating hot kiss against her throat. “Yellow,” she almost shouted. “I’m still yellow.”
