Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The Big House, Rawhide Ranch... the foothills of the Sapphire Mountains in Ravalli County in the state of Montana
Derek
Derek leaned back in his chair, enjoying the sanctuary of leather and oak of his study as he made a call. Drawing in a breath, he reveled in the mountain air drifting through half-open windows.
His fingers drummed against the desk, matching the rhythm from his vintage radio while he waited for Jagger to answer. From the dining room, a chorus of high-pitched squeals and giggles shattered his peaceful afternoon. A smile tugged at his lips. Sadie’s tea party was in full swing.
Knowing his babygirl was happy was worth having his house overflowing with a giggle of Littles every now and then, especially when he got to pull her over his lap afterward for a well-deserved spanking for interrupting his peace with their shenanigans.
“Derek? Fancy hearing from you.”
“Took your time answering. I was about to put down the phone.”
A burst of laughter erupted from the dining room. Jagger’s knowing chuckle crackled through the phone. “Ah, the big bad wolf has to play pool Daddy, I see. Is that why you’re grumpy?”
His wife’s weekly Little gatherings had become quite a tradition, and although he regularly reiterated the rule to keep them confined to weekdays when he was handling business at the resort, she persisted in hosting one at their home at least once a month over a weekend.
Derek shook his head, admiring her clever manipulation…
but he was on to her. Sadie orchestrated these invasions of his quiet time with one purpose.
His pretty Little was after a punishing spanking, but not today.
He had other plans. It was time Little Mrs. Hawkins realized he was her Daddy, the one in charge… not her play toy.
“I’m tea Daddy today and no, I’m not grumpy at all.” Derek’s voice carried a rich undercurrent of anticipation. “I’m looking forward to her punishment too much.”
“So, you caught on to her scheme.” Jagger’s deep chuckle resonated through the phone. “She and Moira must be in cahoots. They pull the same stunt every month on one Wednesday afternoon at our place.”
“And we both know that’s your carved-out special time with your Little wife when the kiddos are visiting their gram.” Derek chuckled. “They are definitely synchronizing their efforts.”
“Perhaps we should let Crone address their behavior with his double flogger technique. The way he binds two subs front-to-front creates an extraordinary dynamic.” Jagger paused. “I’ve never seen another Dom have the depth of emotional effect on Littles and subs like he does with an impact tool.”
“His mastery comes as no surprise. We shared the same mentor in Noah Carver.”
“Indeed. Another success story from the master himself.”
“I believe it’s his own terrifying trauma that adds to his ability to break the walls of other’s emotional distress.”
“Whatsup, Derek?” Jagger knew him too well to think he phoned just to chat, especially over a weekend when family time took priority.
Derek’s gaze drifted to Dr. Williams’ assessment on his desk. The detailed psychiatric evaluation delved into territories beyond the scope of Rawhide Ranch’s resident therapists, Drs. Sam and Catherine Denton.
“Crone is the reason for my call, Jag. You mentioned his upcoming visit. Any idea when he’ll be here?”
Derek had observed Crone during his regular visits to Rawhide Ranch, noting how he maintained careful emotional distance despite his popularity among submissives and Littles.
Yet when wielding an impact tool, Crone transformed into something extraordinary—a master who could extract buried trauma through carefully orchestrated sensation.
It was during those visits that he had earned the name whip whisperer among the submissives and Littles.
Derek recalled a particularly powerful session.
A submissive named Maria had been trapped in emotional paralysis after a traumatic experience, similar to Sienna Weathers’.
Traditional therapy had failed to penetrate her walls.
During a carefully negotiated scene, Crone had worked with precise, measured strokes of his signal whip.
Each crack carried intention as each sting unlocked another layer of buried pain.
Between strikes Crone had moved closer, offering a steady anchor to the sub with the heat of his presence.
His whispered words, audible only to Maria and Derek who stood close, created intimate moments of connection.
“Release the shackles, little one. They don’t serve you.
” The whip sang through the air. “Your strength lies in survival.” Another precisely placed strike.
“The past doesn’t define you and cannot claim your future. ”
Derek had noticed a subtle shift in Crone’s energy during those breathless pauses.
For fleeting seconds, his carefully maintained walls lowered, allowing a glimpse of profound empathy to surface in his eyes.
These moments of genuine connection lasted mere heartbeats before his shields snapped back into place, but they were crucial to the healing process.
In one such moment, as Maria teetered on the edge of breakthrough, Crone’s hand had gently encircled her throat.
The touch, brief yet deliberate, carried more impact than any strike of the whip.
It conveyed understanding, acceptance, and permission to be vulnerable.
That single gesture shattered the final barrier.
Maria’s emotional dam had broken. She’d wept freely, years of suppressed pain flowing out in cleansing waves. That breakthrough enabled her to engage fully in subsequent therapy sessions, finally processing the trauma that had held her captive.
Derek had realized that day, the whipping session’s success didn’t just lay in Crone’s technical mastery, but in those unguarded moments of connection when he had the uncanny ability to insert himself deep within his subject’s mind.
Derek recognized this duality. Crone’s ability to forge profound emotional bonds while maintaining his own isolation was his greatest strength but also his deepest vulnerability.
“He arrived last night,” Jagger’s response yanked Derek’s attention back. “I already sent through a request for visitation as our guest at the Ranch tonight.”
“You know he has a standing invitation to visit us anytime.”
“Still, protocol is important.” Jagger hesitated briefly. “Why are you asking?”
“Do you remember the condition of Sienna Weathers when we found her in the forest two years ago?”
“Of course. I was at the Ranch when you returned.” Jagger’s tone darkened. “Damn, that little body of hers was broken… but her spirit seemed even more shattered. Moira has tried to reach out to her numerous times, but she remains distant.”
“Dr. Williams conducted extensive evaluations and therapy over time. Sienna’s seen Catherine on a weekly basis.
” Derek’s fingers traced the edge of the file.
“Even Sadie and the Littles, with their boundless enthusiasm, fail to provoke any emotional response. Sienna exists in a void of her own making. She seems to be… dead inside. I fear she’s deteriorating instead of improving.
As you know, since she used to be a highly sought after fashion photographer, I offered her a teaching position as a photography professor last year.
I’d hoped it would give her some focus and guidance, but even that hasn’t pulled her from the mire. I’m concerned for her mental state.”
“You’re hoping Crone could reach her through a whipping session?”
“Not just a single session.” Derek leaned forward as his voice turned earnest. “What do you think about Crone taking a position at Rawhide Ranch? Even if it is just temporary. With his skill he could help so many people through specialized whip therapy sessions.”
“If that means keeping him here?” Jagger’s response came swift and determined. “The kids adore their Uncle C and would be delighted if he was around all the time. So, hell yes, I would secure him with steel chains should he attempt to leave.”
“I guess that means he is still living in isolation?”
“Worse, he seems to be deteriorating further as well. He’s on the route to becoming a complete hermit.
” Jagger’s emotion thickened his voice. “This opportunity is perfect. The kids have a favorable effect on him, and if he stays longer, they, and his being able to help with the healing of others, might just be the cure he needs to finally yank him from the black hole he’s burying himself into.
I told Moira the day he arrived that I believe he’s at a crossroads.
His eyes now have the look of a man yearning for more.
He just needs that little push, and maybe the right sub to connect with. Fuck, man. Thanks for thinking of him.”
“I’d like to speak to him personally, Jag.
Send him directly to my office when you arrive tonight.
Keep this discussion between us for now.
” Derek’s gaze drifted out the window to the Montana sunset painting the mountains.
“The sooner we unite them, the greater chance of healing... for both wounded souls.”
Derek recognized the parallel paths of damage in both Crone and Sienna.
Where she had walled herself within emotional numbness, he had built fortresses with the foundation of isolation and emotional trauma.
Perhaps in helping her find her way back to feeling, Crone might rediscover his own capacity for connection and he could start living again.
Crone
Master Derek’s office, Rawhide Ranch
“You’ve been a Dom for the majority of your adult life, Crone.” Derek’s measured words bounced off the huge floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. “One of the most experienced and powerful I know in the Lifestyle. I have always admired your ability to gentle a submissive without apparent effort.”