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I manage to remember to breathe as the muscles of his arm flex and his grip on the riding crop tightens.
I want to tell him that I’m turning around to assuage my own curiosity about his brand of disciplining, but he knows full well that I’m aroused by his dominance, his pleasure.
I turn, placing my hands on the wall sheathed in deep forest-green wallpaper with copper flecks dotted through it.
“Lower, Indigo,” he orders and I walk my feet back a step, bending until I’m almost at a ninety-degree angle.
“Spread your legs for me. Nice and wide.”
No sooner have I done it than the first whip of the crop strikes my ass, causing me to welp in shock, my eyes watering, tears dropping onto the dark hardwood below. I was expecting it to sting but no more than last night’s belt. How can that tiny leather tongue hurt so much?
“Shit,” I yelp as the second lash has my back curling, but the sharp burn is mixed with release. Getting disciplined, as he’d call it, by a man I feel physically safe with is a new experience altogether.
I flinch as Grey’s fingers find my ass, tracing the welts he must have left behind. I’m alerted to his arousal by his hoarse moan.
“You mark so nicely,” he whispers. “Can you take a third for me?”
“Is it gonna be as puny as the first two?” I ask facetiously.
Barely a heartbeat later, I’m lifted off my feet by an arm which wraps around my waist. His other hand finds my throat as he begins to breathe ragged breaths into the side of my face.
“What did you say to me?” he snarls, but I detect the wisps of amusement clinging to his words.
“I just thought a whipping should actually hurt,” I reply, lying through my teeth, as he well knows, just to show him I’m tougher than he thinks. And if he expects to fast-track this submission thing, he’s got another thing coming.
“You really are the naughtiest, most insolent fucking brat I’ve ever known.”
“Please don’t evoke the low-standard simpletons you’ve been with before me,” I snap. “I mean, you don’t like it when I do that, do you?”
“No, I do not,” he snarls, his lips teasing the side of my cheek. “Did I not whip you hard enough for your taste, wildflower?”
This is the point at which I take a time-out and ask God why I keep getting back on the sassy horse when all it does is keep biting me in the ass.
But I can’t back down now.
“I guess I was kinda disappointed,” I sing, still smarting from the throbbing sting made worse by his freaking steel baton of a cock rubbing against my ass.
“Is that so?” he whispers, still holding me around the waist so that my tiny feet are dangling off the floor and making me feel like some little wood elf the local giant has dragged back to his cave. “I highly doubt it somehow, especially since I saw one of your tears fall to the ground, did I not?”
Busted. Dammit.
I remain mute, closing my eyes to the flare of his hot breath on my temple.
“But I’ll make sure to make up for it with it the third… unless you’d like to offer your apologies for the slight and request that I stop here, Indigo?”
Dear God, please teach me the wisdom of buttoning my mouth up from time to time.
“Nope,” I announce, already wincing preemptively from the pain. “Let’s see if you can actually administer one that I can feel this time.”
I feel his lips widen into a smile against my cheek. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy taming you, wildflower.”
“Well, good luck. Maybe start by working on your whipping game.”
A breath of amusement huffs from his nose. “Very well.”
He places me back down onto the floor.
“Same as before, Indigo. Hands on the wall. Bend over for me.”
