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Dahlia cried out again, but this time the cry segued into a low, sensual moan.
Yes. He executed a mental fist pump.
Aloud, he said, “Good girl.” He again stroked her heated skin with gentle fingers, allowing her to feel skin on skin. “You’re doing very well. I’m going to kick it up a notch now. Remember to breathe.”
He flicked the cane in a steady, whippy stroke over her ass, moving from just below the top of the cleft down to the sweet spot where her ass met her thighs, and back up again.
She moaned again, a low, guttural sound that was music to his ears. Her labia had swollen and darkened, and he could smell the sweet, heady scent of her musk.
“Yes,” he breathed, thrilled with her. “Stay right there, beautiful girl. I’m going to give you five good strokes now.”
She pressed her lips together, her brows furrowing. But she remained silent.
He flicked the cane with a whoosh, this time letting it land in a random pattern that diagonally bisected the neat row of horizontal pink stripes he’d painted on her flesh.
“One.”
“Ah!” she cried, her eyes flying open, her face twisting with pain.
He waited a moment, gently pressing his palm against her lower back to calm her until her eyes fluttered shut once more, and she was again breathing in a deep, steady rhythm.
The second stroke was delivered solely to the right cheek. “Two.”
That time, she didn’t cry out, though she was trembling.
“Three.”
Pain moved over her features, but her eyes remained closed. The trembling had stopped.
“Four.”
She sighed deeply, her body relaxing fully.
He let the last strike land hard, hard enough to leave a raised welt that would last more than a few hours.
She whimpered softly, but remained still, her body relaxed as she drifted somewhere high in the heavens. She was in that blissful trance state, a small, secret smile on her face.
He left her to drift as he went to the supply cabinet and pulled out a jar of salve. Setting the cane aside, he stroked the cream over her welts, being as gentle as he could. When he was satisfied, he let his hand trail lower. He stroked her cunt with a teasing, steady touch, moving in circles toward her clit.
It was hard as a little marble beneath his fingers. He rubbed harder, grinding his palm against her spread labia as he flicked her clit. Though her eyes remained closed, he felt her come out of the trance as her body responded to his touch.
Soon she was panting, her body again trembling as he brought her quickly to climax. “Come for me,” he commanded as her cunt spasmed beneath his fingers.
With a high-pitched cry, she shuddered and bucked in her restraints. He continued to stroke her through the orgasm, only removing his hand when she went limp against the padded bench.
He moved quickly around her, releasing the cuffs that held her in place. He lifted her into his arms and set her gently on her feet. As she opened her eyes and focused on his face, he kept his hands on her shoulders to hold her steady.
“How’re you doing?” he asked, smiling at her.
Her answering smile was radiant. “Amazing, Sir,” she breathed. “It was…wow. Just wow.”
Hayden laughed, delighted with her. His aching cock tented his pajama bottoms, his balls aching with the need for relief. He pushed gently on Dahlia’s shoulders. Kicking away his pajamas, he directed, “Kneel up in front of me. You will thank me for your caning by worshipping my cock.”
As she sank to her knees, he stared down at her, so radiant and ready. She was ripe for the claiming. He would push every limit she had, and give her everything she’d dreamed of, and more.
“You’re ready, Dahlia.” A combination of lust and power coursed through his veins like a drug as he fisted his cock. “You’ve proven yourself worthy to become my full-fledged slave. Now, your real training begins.”
Chapter 24
Dahlia barely processed his words, still riding high from the endorphins released by the caning. Eagerly, she reached for Hayden’s beautiful cock. Her lips parted, her mouth actually watering in anticipation. As she caressed his heavy balls with one hand, she wrapped the other around the base of his shaft.
Her ass was on fire, but it was a good pain. She would have liked to rush back to the bedroom to check out the welts, but a proper submissive surely didn’t do that sort of thing. And she was a proper submissive—at least for the moment.
Imagine what Naomi would think if she saw those marks in the locker room. She wouldn’t understand, a small voice in Dahlia’s head informed her. You barely understand.
She shushed the voice. Not everything could be expressed in words, especially not to someone who didn’t share the same orientation. The canes were marks of submissive courage. Dahlia felt empowered in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
