Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
One month later, the Dungeon, Rawhide Ranch
Crone
Crone’s boots echoed against the floor as he circled the Saint Andrew’s cross. For the session, he’d requested that the lighting be soft but not dim to keep the atmosphere warm and soothing. The scent of leather and sandalwood from the diffuser drifted in the still air.
“Relax, little one. I am here. Just breathe... feel the warmth of my hand.” His voice remained low and steady. Each stroke along her arm left goosebumps in its wake but her skin felt cool despite the room’s warmth.
Sammy had arrived at Rawhide three weeks ago, completely traumatized from the abusive relationship with her Daddy Dom. The raised welts across her back told stories of vicious whippings with each scar a testament to his sadistic nature.
The sight of her protruding ribs and the rope burns scarring her wrists and ankles had ignited a cold fury in Crone’s gut.
The bastard had kept her caged, preying on her Little headspace of a six-year-old to feed his psychotic needs.
Though Crone held no personal interest in Daddy Dom dynamics, his time at Rawhide Ranch had shown him how those relationships should bloom with tenderness and protection, not wither under abuse.
“I want out.” Her whisper cracked as her fingers clenched against the leather restraints. “Please, Master Crone… I’m scared.”
“Shh, Sammy. Open your eyes and look at me.” He waited until her gaze met his. “There… see? It’s me, Master Crone.” Another gentle brush over her shoulder. She winced but didn’t pull away. “I am not him, and remember, you are at Rawhide Ranch, your safe haven. No one will hurt you here.”
“I…” Her eyes moved to the whip that was draped over his shoulder. She shook her head as tears formed. “Not the whip, please.”
Crone stepped closer to cup her chin, keeping her eyes locked with his.
“I promise I am not going to harm you. At first you’ll feel nothing but soft sweeps and it might sting later, but one thing I can assure you, little one, is that I will never cut your skin or draw blood.
” His thumb drew small circles under her chin.
“Let me take you on this journey, Sammy, and together we’ll find the gate to open to help exonerate the ghosts that keep you awake at night once and for all. ”
“Please… can you use something else? Just not the whip.”
“Did he ever use anything else, Sammy?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No. He loved to see me bleed.”
“Then I need to show you that the whip in the hands of a true Dom is not a tool of torture but of healing, and one day, even pleasure.” Crone bent down to retrieve a stuffed bunny from his toy bag, pink and fluffy with long floppy ears, just like Gloria’s beloved Mr. Hoppy.
“I brought you something. You can hold on to her if you like.”
Sammy’s eyes brightened as he pressed the toy into her trembling hands. Her fingers curled around the soft neck, clutching it for all she was worth. “I… he never allowed me stuffies. Oh, she’s so pretty.” Tears were now falling freely but didn’t tamper the joy deep within. “W-what’s her name?”
“Ah, little one. She’s yours to name.”
“She looks like… Hope.” Her smile quivered at the edges. “I know… I’ll call her Miss Hoppy.”
Crone smiled, already imagining how a play session with Gloria and Mr. Hoppy might help the healing path of this traumatized soul.
“Miss Hoppy is a good name.” He released her chin and stepped back. “I want you to keep your eyes open, Sammy. Watch me in the mirror in front of you. Remember, it’s me, Master Crone.”
The first whisper of leather against skin drew a whimper from Sammy. Crone kept the strokes featherlight, a dance of air and leather across her shoulders.
“Feel the rhythm, little one. Let it wash over you. Imagine the drops of summer rain.” His voice remained steady and hypnotic. “Each stroke washes away his poison.”
The whip sang through the air, never breaking contact. Sammy’s grip on Miss Hoppy tightened with each pass, until eventually her breathing slowly steadied.
“That’s it, little one. You’re safe here.” Crone stepped closer, his free hand ghosting over her spine. “He has no power in this space. This moment belongs to you.”
A sob caught in her throat. “I can still feel him... his constant anger…”
“Then let’s replace it.” The whip’s tempo increased slightly, still gentle but more present. “Feel my controlled strength instead. Not to harm, but to heal.”
With each stroke, each careful touch, Sammy’s rigid posture began to soften. Her death grip on Miss Hoppy eased. When Crone increased the intensity, her initial flinch melted into a shuddering sigh.
“Good girl,” he murmured, noting how she now leaned into the strikes. “Your body remembers what trust feels like. Let it teach your heart to release the fear.”
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but her eyes in the mirror held a spark of hope replacing the haunted shadows.
“Tell me how you feel, little one,” his low voice deepened with understanding.
“I... I feel light,” she whispered as he stood close, his fingers gently circling her throat. “Like big fluffy clouds.”
Crone delivered a final series of strikes, carefully placed to warm rather than wound. Sammy’s soft moan carried no fear, only release.
“You’ve done beautifully.” He lowered the whip and moved to unbuckle her restraints. “This is just the beginning of your journey, now it’s time to continue on the path to a brighter new future.”
Crone gathered her into his arms. Her slight frame was barely a weight against his chest. She curled into him with Miss Hoppy crushed between them as he carried her to the leather sofa.
“Easy now, little one.” He settled her across his lap with one hand stroking her hair while the other pulled a soft blanket around her shoulders. “Let yourself drift and remember the peace you found with my whip. You’re safe here.”
Sammy’s breathing evened out as the endorphins took hold. Her grip on Miss Hoppy loosened, though she kept the bunny close to her heart.
When Dr. Catherine approached, her professional warmth wrapped around them like another blanket. “It’s the first time I’ve witnessed a session of yours, Master Crone, and I am beyond breathless. It’s not only amazing to watch, but also a revelation in how experience becomes therapy.”
“I have an advantage, Catherine,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ve had my share of despair.”
“I’ll take care of her now, Master Crone.” Catherine’s voice softened. “You’ve done excellent work breaking through her barriers.”
Crone was easing Sammy into Catherine’s care when Sienna’s voice unexpectedly cracked through the otherwise empty Dungeon’s peace.
“So, this is where you’ve been?” The words dripped venom. “I’ve waited at the barn for over an hour while you’ve been here... touching her?”
Crone turned slowly, reading the storm in Sienna’s stance. Her chest heaved and her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Beneath her anger lurked a shadow of fear he filed away for later examination.
“Or did you forget we’re supposed to go camping? I guess you did since you had more... important things to do.” Her voice climbed higher with each word. “More important people to hold and comfort!”
Master Derek, who had just arrived, took a sharp breath that matched Crone’s own rising anger. This wasn’t just about him. She was disrupting another sub’s aftercare and broke multiple protocols of respect.
Yet part of him thrilled at this first display of possessiveness, this crack in her careful walls. She was finally showing him something real, possessive jealousy, even if it came wrapped in defiance.
“Enough.”
The single word sliced through her tirade with lethal precision, its quiet menace freezing her mid-breath.
In that controlled syllable lay every ounce of his Dom authority, soaked with the promise of consequence.
Understanding dawned in her eyes as she registered what she had done, where she was, and who had witnessed her outburst.
She stepped back and assumed the position that had become second nature with her hands clasped behind her back, legs spread, and eyes downcast.
“I’m sorry, Master Crone.” Her voice broke with unshed tears.
Crone let his voice drop to those sinful depths that always shattered her composure. “No, Sienna... you’re not, but you will be.”
Sienna
Sapphire Mountains, Rawhide Ranch
Sienna’s world had transformed in the two months since Crone entered her life.
Joy crept in where shadows once lived and laughter replaced silence.
She even started taking photos again, capturing moments of light rather than darkness.
Now, along with finding beauty in simple pleasures like morning coffee on the porch, she smiled more and, heaven help her neighbor, sang in the shower.
Yet here she sat, guilt churning in her stomach as they rode deeper into the Sapphire Mountains.
The Dungeon scene replayed in her mind. How could she have acted like that?
It wasn’t in her nature to burst out in irrational rage, even though it was because of Crone cradling another woman.
If she was honest, she’d been hurt, and that emotion exploded into unchecked sharp words.
At that moment, she had forgotten everything she had learned about proper Rawhide Ranch protocol.
The sight of him offering comfort to another sub had unleashed something primitive and possessive inside her.
The intensity of her reactions frightened her.
Her heart thundered whenever their eyes met, and a crushing ache consumed her when he touched another woman.
These feelings defied all logic. Dead hearts didn’t feel this alive, did they?
Broken spirits definitely didn’t soar at the sound of a voice or yearned for the brush of familiar hands.
Snickers’ steady gait kept rhythm with her troubled thoughts. She patted the mare’s neck, grateful for Sadie’s insistence she take her for the trip. The small brown horse’s gentle nature soothed her nerves, unlike the massive beasts some of the other riders preferred.
Crone rode slightly ahead on one of them, Magic, a black stallion standing at eighteen hands high. Even now, angry with her, her Master’s protective instincts showed in each backward glance, checking her position, and ensuring her safety. The tenderness beneath his anger only heightened her shame.
Master Derek’s presence during her outburst made everything worse. She had broken countless protocols, disrupted another sub’s aftercare, and disrespected her Dom publicly. The punishment she’d earned loomed closer with each hoofbeat into the wilderness.
For the first time, she would be completely alone with Crone, away from the safe haven of Rawhide’s walls. Her belly clenched as old fears stirred. Stan’s face flickered through her memories. He was always charming in public, only to turn vicious in private.
Crone isn’t Stan. The words echoed in her mind. He will never hurt you.
He’s never been this angry at me either. She fought against the tremors threatening to overtake her body.
“We’re here.” Crone’s deep voice cut through her distress as Magic stopped in a natural alcove. Trees and brush created a private sanctuary with a sweeping view of Rawhide Ranch far below.
The sight stole Sienna’s breath. This was no rough mountain camp with basic tents and campfire rings.
A luxury safari tent with cream canvas walls gleaming in the midday sun dominated the natural platform.
A wooden deck wrapped around it and was complete with a bubbling hot tub overlooking the valley.
Solar lights were strung between the trees, promising magic once darkness fell.
The tent itself stood tall enough to walk in comfortably. Its sides were rolled up to reveal glimpses of a plush interior.
“There’s a real bed piled with scatter cushions,” she gushed as she walked closer to study the rustic wooden furniture and a small, fully stocked kitchen area in one corner. A separate enclosed section suggested modern bathroom facilities.
“How long has this been here? I’ve never heard any talk of us having a glamping camp.
” She turned in a slow circle, taking in the details that suggested careful planning and thought had gone into the design.
There was a tasteful outdoor seating area with sheltered cooking space and discrete solar panels tucked among the trees.
Crone led the horses to a covered shelter she hadn’t noticed at first. “Jagger, Derek, and I built it over the past six weeks.” His hands moved with practiced ease as he removed Magic’s saddle.
“We wanted to create something special. An extension of the sanctuary where couples could escape for those special occasions without sacrificing comfort or security.”
The pride in his voice softened some of the earlier tension between them.
“We’re going to have a competition to have it named when we present it to the community.
” He paused in unbridling Snickers to gesture at the panoramic view.
“Up here, surrounded by nothing but mountains and the sky, dreams should be free to roam and offer hope.”
The words stirred that unknown emotion in her chest even as they awakened new butterflies in her stomach. “And we’re the first to…”
“Test it out, yes.” His lips curved slightly. “Consider yourself our quality control inspector.”
The attempt at humor couldn’t quite mask the underlying current between them. They both knew this isolation would first serve another purpose. Still, looking at the beautiful space he had helped create, Sienna couldn’t help but feel touched that she would be the first to experience it with him.