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“You don't need to know what for. Pick one, or I’ll pick the one that stings the most.”
“What?!”
“Very well.” He throws the thicker of the two onto the ground. “Now hold onto that tree, bend over and give me your bare ass.”
“You’re kidding, right?!”
“No, Indigo. This is a necessary part of your training.”
“What am I, a horse?”
“No. But you’re untrained and still giving me attitude night and day. You can’t reach the pleasure I want to give you until you learn to obey my orders. Plus, I like the idea of you walking around with my cane lash on your ass.”
“You’re a sadist, you know that?”
His eyes narrow. “And yet you want to obey me, don’t you?”
I inhale sharply, because the truth is… I do.
Dear God in heaven, life’s hard enough. Why do I have to be one of the ones aroused by his strong hand gripping that cane?
My eyes run over his brown boots, up and up his dark-blue jeans which hide long, thick, muscular legs, over the navy sweater which hides a body I still really don’t think should be legal, up his strong neck and onto a moody face, hardened by the dim light and the shadows that cut beneath his bone.
I contemplate lifting my sweater, bending over and letting him whip my ass as I want to.
Instead, I decide to turn this into a test of safety and control. “You once told me that the sub has the control.” He nods his head. “So, with that in mind, you get one lash. No more.”
His face hardens, but his eyes shimmer. “You do realize that by the time I’m done with your training, you’ll be begging me to whip you, Indigo?”
I gulp. “Fine,” I announce with entirely feigned bravado. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“We’ll see,” he replies. “Now bend over and show me that ass. You’ve already given me enough lip today. I’d like to see a pink line across it as your punishment.”
I take my time to breathe before slowly lowering my pants to my mid-thighs. I lift my sweater with one hand, my palm grabbing the rough tree trunk in front of me as I steel myself for the single whipping.
But instead of flinching at the pain, I flinch at the urgent call of his voice booming out from near the house.
“Greyson!”
We both pivot in an instant, seeking out the cry of Grey’s name through the woods, shouted in Stanley’s voice.
Still holding the branch, Grey reaches for my pants, lifting them up before taking hold of my hand, leading me back towards the house.
“What is it?” I ask to no response, unsettled by his suddenly tense energy.
As we reach the back door, he unlocks it and urges me inside. “Lock the door behind you.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. But I want you to lock the door anyway. This door and the door between the mudroom and kitchen. Don’t come out until I come and find you.”
“You’re making me nervous.”
Without speaking, he closes the door, watching me through one of the panes of double-glazed glass of the mudroom until I lock it. He waits as I take off my boots and go inside, closing us off by the wooden kitchen door.
44
Indigo
