“It’s nothing.” The words flowed so nonchalantly from her mouth, but this wasn’t nothing.
Her ribs stood out while she held her breath during my inspection, knees locking the moment my lips touched her flesh.
I murmured against her hip, kissing gently. “I’m sorry.”
I’d been so careless and arrogant, having her hike through the woods in a dress. Of course, I’d had no idea we would need to venture off the manicured trails, but when we’d moved from the path, I should’ve considered her comfort and safety.
Kate adjusted the weight of her arms. She leaned against the post. “It’s okay. I really don’t mind.” Her bare breasts heaved with her breath.
My palm ran over the healing bruises over her ass. “Tell me about this.”
Her entire body tensed. “Can we not talk so much? It pulls me out of the moment.”
The rise in tension in her body alarmed me. I wanted answers but was losing her with my words. Some women liked the free-flowing talk during a scene, others liked to sink into their own headspace. Kate and I were so new as a couple. She reminded me how little I still knew about her, her desires, and her deepest needs. I didn’t want to ruin this moment, so I allowed my question to remain unanswered.
For now.
Maybe she’d turned to others because I’d denied her pain?
No. I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t have sought out another. Which left a more concerning option. I’d known some masochists who’d sought self-flagellation to meet their needs. Had Kate’s need been so great?
She let out a deep sigh, a sign of frustration, which pulled my attention back to her beautiful body. The lift of her rib cage expanded her chest. Her head bowed, ready for me to begin.
I stepped away, glorifying in the luminous shine of her body in the flickering torchlight. The moon was rising and would soon add its silver glow. It was time.
“Your safe word is ‘red.’ Use it if you need to.”
A low, throaty chuckle rose in invitation. “Make me.”
She teased with those words, but the challenge was not lost on me.
We were here to take the lines of pleasure and pain and blur them until they became indistinct. I would make her entire body vibrate with need, shake with unbearable agony, until she broke upon waves of orgasmic ecstasy.
But this was not a battle of wills. She would not safe-word out. If she did, then I wasn’t the Master I claimed to be.
Taking six steps back, I squared off my stance. “I want your count.”
She shook her head. “Please, don’t make me.” She lifted on her toes, and her fingers stretched to release the clip, then hesitated. Her voice floated to me on a breathy whisper. “He made me count, and if it’s okay, I’d rather not.”
No need to ask who she referred to. Her previous Master had dug deep scars into my love. Wounds I intended to spend the rest of my life healing.
She pressed her cheek against the post. “Just do it.”
I spread my thighs and shook out my arm, allowing the tension in my shoulders to fall away. The whip uncoiled and snaked across the ground. I would warm her up first with a few light strokes. I lifted my arm, then flicked forward. The tip of the whip sailed in the air, whistling, then cracking in the silence of the night. My body barely moved. The skill in a whip was in the movement of the shoulders and the follow-through of the wrist. This wasn’t something for muscles. A whip required finesse.
The tail of the whip licked her flesh, caressing her skin. She didn’t flinch with the tiny welt I raised. Not even a gasp tumbled past her lips. I expected something, not this soaking in of sensation. She gave me nothing to work with.
Redness bloomed in a tiny line on her hip. She sighed and hugged the post. “Harder.”
Her command drifted on the night air. I almost missed the need strung in her voice.
I stood taller and took aim. Her body moved this time, rewarding me with a sharp inhalation. She felt that one. My cock throbbed. I threw again. Her body twitched and rewarded me with a moan. Yeah, good idea about the counting.
Her feet shifted, broadened her stance, and she stood tall against the post. Her voice hijacked my cock, making the bastard take notice.
“More, please.”
What had her previous Master done to her? She shouldn’t be enjoying these strikes. I threw them with enough weight to sting, but she absorbed the throws like they were nothing. My arm swung back and lashed out, warming her up. Then, the pace of my strikes intensified, becoming something entirely different. Red lines lifted on her delicate flesh. I wanted to feel the heat of her against my skin but restrained myself. Soon, I would fall upon her and slide inside her wet heat.
I struck again, sending the tail of the whip cutting through the air. Again and again, the crack split the night. A steady stream of connection flowed from my arm, to the whip, to the movement of her body and her delicious moans. I painted her flesh as I went as if drawing a picture on the canvas of her skin. Heat settled within my muscles, a slow-burning ache that built to an agonizing intensity.
This I loved.
Her breaths turned to pants, processing the escalation of pain. “Ah!” Her body shuddered, agony blossoming in the timbre of her cry.
Finally, my touch brought out a response.
I lay down ten rapid cuts that brought her up on her toes. My cock strained against the zipper of my trousers, desperate to be freed. But it was not yet time.
Another lash. Another whimper.
I dropped my hand and adjusted my cock, growling with need. The urge to come was swiftly overwhelming me. With each strike, her back reddened, turning from pristine ivory to a mass of welted raw pain I found intoxicating.
The fabric of my shirt clung to my skin, slicked with the sweat of my exertion. Desire to claim her burned in my blood, but I wouldn’t stop. Not until I fed her hunger. But there was no sign I had even come close to meeting her need.
My mouth watered to kiss her skin, to lick her ravaged flesh and soothe the ache I was causing. But she spilled no tears. She soaked it all in, terrifying me with each successive lash as she absorbed the pain. I’d lost track of the number of throws but knew I’d never gone this far before. I stopped, checked to make sure I hadn’t drawn blood. Her skin was intact, but a few strikes had come close when she’d arched into the throw. Too close.
Her breathing came in deep gasps, panting against the pain. Kate didn’t once pull on her cuffs, and not one time had she tried to lift herself off the hook.
How something barbaric could meld two souls into something so harmonious never ceased to amaze me, but our connection grew and deepened the further we went.
Another arch into my throw forced me to pull back to avoid cutting her flesh.
“Do not move, or I’ll tie your hips to that post.” If she kept moving, we would have to stop.
Sticky moisture saturated my shirt, so I ripped it off my body. I wouldn’t be needing it soon anyway.
Her exquisite form rippled in the moonlight under the lash of my whip. The way she trembled but refused to buckle beneath my strength awed me. I’d never seen anything so powerful, so incredibly magnificent.
I laid down a series of lines across her left ass cheek, covering up the mysterious bruising with marks placed by my hand. I wanted her to beg me to stop, but she moaned with the sensations, delirious and awash in sensation. Not once did she scream.
I picked up the pace, surrendering to the sadism within. Gritting my teeth, I let my whip arm fly, and the leather tip cracked through the night, blow after blow, quicker and quicker. Red replaced white on the canvas of her flesh. I tumbled into madness, searching for a response.
Sweat beaded her brow. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” The sinuous movements of her body gyrated against the post.
My arm cast back, then forward, the flick of my wrist sending the tip toward tender flesh. The aim of my strike was a patch of skin over her left hip, a place she appeared especially sensitive. I wanted to lay a line o
f fire there, but she arched away from the post, anticipating my strike, lifting her hips backward to meet the whip. Her scream ripped through the night as I cut her skin.
I blinked, horrified at the blood seeping from the cut. I threw the whip to the ground and ran to her. “Shit, Kate! I’m sorry.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She huffed against the pain, her voice sounding drugged. “Please,” she begged, “please don’t stop. I need more.” She had slipped deep into subspace, pain melding into pleasure. “Ahh…more, please.”
My heart thundered when her hungry eyes locked on to mine. And I knew. Damn, I knew she would never use her safe word. My slave would never use a safe word because she was incapable of saying no. The only hard limit she had I had breached by binding her hands.
Kate was trapped. She needed to be torn asunder, to be broken. How had I missed this?
For this she begged? Up close, the ravages of the whip were all too evident. Not a spot had been spared. Her ass, back, and thighs all bore angry welts. I couldn’t believe she’d endured so much. I couldn’t believe I’d delivered so much pain. I should never have stopped counting.
“Shh, I’m taking you down.” I reached up to undo her cuffs, but she swung away, kicking.
“No!” She hung her head between her arms, refusing to look at me. “Don’t stop. It’s nothing.” A sob. “Please, don’t stop. Not yet.”
I traced the line of the cut with my finger. It would need bandaging.
“I’ve had worse.” She jerked away from me, growling. “Do it! Destroy me. Goddamn it, make me yours.”
Her chin lifted, and she held my gaze with ferocity. A longing existed there, and by God, I would carry her to that place she needed to go. This burning crossroad belonged to us. We met here and now with an uncompromising love.
I did the only thing I could. I lifted her off that post and cradled her in my arms. “You are already mine.”
She turned her head away, her voice small and weak. “Please, just make the pain go away.”
My gut fell, listening to the torment in her voice. Her weight was insignificant, but her need weighed heavily upon me.
So broken inside, and I had never realized how deep her scars cut. I vowed to make her whole again. Whatever it took, I would mend her wounds.
Chapter Two
Kate
Pain lanced my back. A stinging sliver of agony hurtled me toward oblivion, but I wasn’t where I wanted to be. The tight bands constricting my heart held fast. Our connection wasn’t yet burned into my soul, and I had yet to fly.
I needed more.
After thirty-two strikes, I could barely breathe against the pain. I had refused to count out loud, but I had been keeping track of every strike, letting each lash cut away the empty void inside me. My stamina was not what it once had been. The agony bombarded my mind and made it difficult to find the oblivion I so desperately craved. Why couldn’t I sink into it now? That point of clarity…eluded me.
Instead of pain, I wanted him. Jake’s tender caress. The sweep of his palm over my breast. The heat of his breath as he worshipped me and brought me to fulfillment with pleasure and not pain.
Jake’s feet crunched on the crushed rock path as he carried me. I sagged in his arms, breathing heavily, attempting to process the pain. The tricks of my past had failed me. I felt empty and bereft, the void within me gaping wide-open and raw.
I was so damn alone because I couldn’t love. I couldn’t trust. Pain filled me and defiled me. I hated it.
Hot lips pressed against my temple, scalding my skin. My muscles turned to jelly. My legs dangled, and my arms hung heavy. I hadn’t had a problem standing, but the moment he touched me, I floated free. I didn’t know if that was because he had swept me up in his arms, or whether it was because the gentleness of his touch seared my heart, breaking the tight constriction inside.
“Kate?” Urgency sounded in the way he spoke my name.
The heat of his strikes faded as I reached oblivion, not at the end of his whip, but within my Master’s embrace.
The warmth of his breath fluttered against my ear. My shoulders ached, and my head tilted back, landing with a thud against his chest.
Light as a feather, my mind danced in the sultry night air. I curled against his bare chest, feeling the steady reassurance of his heartbeat and soaking in his strength. I tried to reach up and cup his jaw, pull him in for a kiss, but I couldn’t get my arm to work properly.
“I’ve got you.” Harsh breathing pulsed in my ear.
My arms hung heavy in their sockets. “I need…I need…” I had no idea what I needed.
“I know. Hush, I’ve got you.”
My body rocked in his arms. His boots struck against wood. A door creaked open, then closed with a thwack. When he laid me on a hard surface, the warmth of his body abandoned me, causing me to cry out. Reaching for him, I failed to find him and clutched air.
“Shush, let’s get you taken care of. I need to get the medical kit.”
The world spun around me, tilting at a crazy angle. Blinking, I stared at the rough-hewn rafters holding up a wood-slated roof. I tried rolling to my side, but the room swirled in my vision. Glimpses of pioneer decor surrounded me. Busts of deer, elk, ducks, geese, and even a moose glared down from their perches on the walls. Antlers were everywhere, forming the ceiling fixtures, decorating a bar, even woven in the backs of chairs. What was this place?
“Do not move.”
Oh, the power in his voice made me want to laugh. Such a tough guy. He rifled through a cabinet behind the bar on my left.
My voice slurred. “I want more.” I curled onto my side and traced the wood grain of the wall. I smacked my ass and pointed. “Right here, smack it, smack it good. Use your belt.”
His low, throaty laugh had me smiling. “You’re so damn cute when you’re in subspace. But I don’t do belts.”
I pointed at him. “Liar.” His belt had left a light bruising on my ass, but we weren’t supposed to talk about that. He’d ordered me to silence, and maybe he was testing my obedience now. I didn’t want to fail him, so I kept my mouth shut about the belt.
“Why would I lie? My hand is so much more fun than a belt. Now turn over, and let me see that cut.”
“I have a cut?” Sitting up made me wobble.
“Yes, you have a cut.” A firm hand guided me back in place. “Down, sub.”
I shivered. “I’m cold.”
He draped a blanket over my legs. “I’ll get you some clothes in a minute. Now hold still, and let me look at you.”
Something cold hit my skin. I jumped when the sensation turned to a sting. “That burns.”
His chuckle filled the room. “Just cleaning your cut. Now lie still. That’s an order.”
“Well, stop hurting me.”
A firm hand pressed me down. “Now, isn’t that an interesting turn of phrase.”
Chapter Three
Jake
I bandaged Kate’s wound and dressed her in a loose-fitting white dress I took from the cupboard next to the medical supplies. Thomas kept all the buildings well stocked. I lifted her from the table and carried her to a chair, where I settled her in my lap and held her until her skin warmed and reason returned. We’d been away from the main gathering for well over an hour, but I could have stayed in the small saloon mock-up forever, caring for my Kate.
She was so fucking adorable zoned out in deep subspace. Euphoria spilled out of her, from the slurring of her words to her tiny giggles and light play. I sat with her, staring at the beauty of her delicate features. Here in my arms, her tough exterior evaporated, and I was left with a soft, vibrant woman.
I never wanted to let go.
An urgent text from Kevin, and the one that followed from Thomas, got my attention, but I waited until Kate came down from the bliss of our scene before heading back to the main house.
Holding hands, we walked to the front of the manor where a bunch of cops had pulled up in the circular
drive. Their lights filled the night sky with flashing blue.
Pete stood with a group of officers, heads converged and deep in conversation. Janice, along with the police chief and twenty some odd cops, joined him. There was no sign of Kevin or Thomas.
With our arrival, the cops perked up a bit, looking more professional and engaged. Men stood straighter, lifted sagging pants, and even fingered their belts, searching for their guns and making sure they were exactly where they’d been for the past several years. We lived in a quiet town. Cops didn’t get much chance to unholster their weapons.
Janice tugged on Pete’s sleeve and pointed at me.
A dark scowl framed his face, and he stomped over.
Kate leaned against me, tugged tight against my body. “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea.” I kissed the top of her head and smoothed her hair against her back. I loved her long curls.
As Pete approached, I echoed her question and voiced my concerns. “What’s going on? Did you get a break in the case?”
We had several lawyers and a judge among the members present tonight. They were probably with Thomas, going over any search warrants the cops had brought. That might explain why the cops stood idle on the front lawn.
“Sorry, Jake,” Pete said as he pulled out a set of cuffs. “There’s nothing to be done.” He gave a guarded look and cleared his throat, seeming uncomfortable or maybe unsure. “Jake Davenport, you’re under arrest.”
My forward stride faltered. “Excuse me?”
Kate stumbled to a halt beside me. “What the hell for?”
The look on Pete’s face told me he was pretty damn serious and embarrassed to be the one making this request. Although, when a cop says you’re under arrest, it’s never really a request. I stared while the muscles of his jaw bunched.
Kate stood taller, her body stiffening. Her words cut through the night. “What the fuck?” Her fire had returned. She wasn’t a submissive who remained long in the bliss of subspace. Already, her faculties were on full alert. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
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