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“Farrow here has agreed to be your first session.”
Rae widened her eyes at Viv, but her friend only smiled and shifted to the corner of the room.
When Rae failed to move, Viv said, “What’s the first thing you do with new clients?”
She thought about her training. “What types of sensations do you like, Farrow, and what level of intensity do you prefer?”
“I enjoy paddles, Mistress, especially wooden ones, and spanking. And I prefer not to have bruising, at least not tonight. I have a photo shoot this week.”
“Okay. The safe word is red if you want me to stop.”
Rae turned to Viv, who already had a number of implements laid out for her.
“How would you like him, Mistress Rae?”
Rae took the hint and directed the man to straddle the chair with his hands gripping the metal bar at the top of it, his back toward her. She ran her hands over the tools Viv had placed for her, her eyes falling on a large black paddle with metal studs. No, she thought. He wanted a wooden paddle, which she selected. She walked over to Farrow and tried to focus on where she needed to hit him. She remembered what Viv taught her—always aim for the meatiest part on the body—and she realized how much her hands were shaking, so she set the paddle down. She was nervous, of course, but she also knew it was her excitement causing her body to tremble.
Viv had warned her before to never imagine someone she hated during a session, but Rae couldn’t help picturing Clint, not Farrow, on the chair, waiting for her to abuse him. She paused, shaking the image of Clint from her mind. This wasn’t about him; this was about the person in front of her, and she wanted to do her best for him and to make Viv proud.
Rae mustered up her nerves and reached her hand out to stroke Farrow’s backside. He shuddered in anticipation. Without warning, she cupped her hand and struck him hard on the ass. It felt good, howthe vibration went up her arm and somehow between her legs. After several strikes, she felt herself go slick with the desire to do more. It was so much better than hitting pillows, so she continued to spank him as hard as she could.
She stopped when the image of Clint pushed back into her thoughts. She picked up the paddle, and the memories of the house and the men infiltrated her mind, their hands holding her down, forcing her ... all the fear and the anger ... and Beth with her huge empty blue eyes staring out at nothing from the kitchen floor.
She wanted to hurt this man. She wanted to make him beg her for mercy.
Her anger metamorphosed back into intense desire, which shimmered up from her pelvis to her right hand.
Rae glanced at Viv, who was leaning against the wall, her eyes carefully watching and monitoring.
“How old are you, Farrow?” Rae said.
“Twenty-one, Mistress.”
Rae’s lips stretched into a wide smile. “That’s a good number.”
And she raised the paddle and got to work on him. At first, he didn’t make much sound as she struck him, but it didn’t take long for him to cry out. When she got to the tenth strike, she heard him mumble something and saw his body slump a little. She almost stopped to have him repeat what he’d said, but she didn’t want to break her pace when the hits felt so good pulsating throughout her body. Then Farrow turned quiet, and she smiled. Viv had told her about subspace, how submissives would sometimes become silent and more docile as their mind shifted to a blissful state. She knew this must be happening to Farrow, and she hit him even harder one more time before she needed to rest a moment.
She admired the marks on his ass that were so red she could barely distinguish the individual strikes she’d made. She touched his backside,which was as hot as a mug of tea. She wanted to do more for the last ten hits.
Rae turned back to the table of implements and reached for the metal-studded paddle, but Viv’s hand stopped her.
When she looked at Viv, she didn’t understand the anger on her friend’s face.
“He said ‘red,’ Rae.”
CHAPTER 18
RAE
2024
Picasso’s happy hour was busier than Rae had expected for a Monday evening, so she asked to sit in the outside patio area rather than wait for a table inside. She ordered a citrusy IPA from the server and kept an eye out for Devon. The server brought her drink, which she sipped as she continued looking for her friend, who was now five minutes late.
Rae took the napkin from underneath her beer and blotted her face with it. The May evening was sweltering, the hazy sun quivering on the horizon. As much as she hated Oklahoma’s heat, she could never complain about its sunsets. She was admiring the rainbowed hues, like a layered cake of purples, pinks, and golds haphazardly stacked across the sky, when Devon’s shadow distracted her.
“Hey, lady,” Devon said, sitting across from her, her dyed fire-red hair pulled up into a messy bun. “So sorry I’m late. I don’t come out to the Paseo District often, and I got turned around.”
“It’s okay.”
