Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
The lobby of the main building, Rawhide Ranch
Crone
“Thanks, little one.” Crone accepted his latté from the barista with a quick wink before finding a quiet spot near Derek’s office. A swift scan of the busy room confirmed Sienna hadn’t arrived yet.
Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the massive windows of the lobby. The usual buzz of activity filled the space with members drifting between the restaurants, the coffee shop, and the general store.
His phone buzzed, and his jaw tightened at the familiar name that flashed across the screen. “So, you finally scraped up the courage to call.” His voice dropped to that dangerous silk-wrapped-steel tone that usually preceded that someone was about to have a very bad day.
“You stole my painting.” David’s voice carried that familiar edge of chemical enhancement. “Unless you pay me thirty million dollars, I’m reporting the theft to the police.”
Crone barked a laugh before taking a long swallow of coffee to temper his rising anger. “Be my guest. I look forward to seeing your purchasing documents and the artist’s validation certificate.”
“It’s my fucking payment!” The words came out in what Crone could only assume was a cocaine-fueled hiss. “You disappeared, so I took it as compensation when you chased me off the winery.”
“I didn’t chase you off, David.”
“You motherfucker, suddenly playing innocent? You promised Sarah you’d take care of me. To make sure I never ended up destitute.”
“You’re right about one thing. I did take care of you.
For ten years after her death, and when you squandered the very big inheritance she left you, I handed you opportunities on a silver platter.
” Another sip of coffee, another attempt at patience.
David had always been Sarah’s family’s problem child, and as the youngest, coddled into uselessness.
“I gave you the management position at the winery. You had every chance to make something of yourself, and you chose to fuck it up.” He was a thirty-four-year old man with no goals but filled with entitlement.
Even though Crone had paid him an above-market salary, it had never been enough. He believed he was worth more.
“You have a selective memory.” Crone’s voice turned razor-sharp, cutting through David’s protests. “I fired you because you embezzled millions. You’re due nothing. You should thank whatever gods you pray to that I didn’t have you arrested.”
“Fuck you. I’ll just take the other paintings from the loft.”
“Be my guest... except you won’t find any, and the new owner might not be as forgiving about trespassing as I was about theft.”
“Bullshit. You’ll never sell that place. It meant too much to Sarah.”
“It did, to both of us. But my life has changed. I’m not the man I was before.
” His thoughts flickered to Sienna, to the future spreading brightly before him.
“I have a new life now. The winery’s sold and the deed has already been registered with the new owner.
So, lose this number, David. Next time you bother me, I’ll press charges for fraud and theft.
” He ended the call and immediately blocked the number.
“That sounded rather harsh,” Sienna said, approaching from where she’d been keeping a respectful distance.
“Some people need to grow up.” He drained his latté and gave her a brief summary before his eyes took on that dangerous gleam that was known to make her pulse skip. “Now, enough of that. It’s time for that scene you promised me.”
Sienna’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What scene? I don’t recall promising anything specific.”
“No? Hmm…” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Must’ve been a dream then. Never mind, we’ll just go with the flow.”
She dug her heels in as he took her hand, heading for the stairs. “Oh no. There’s no flow here, definitely not until I know what’s gonna flow—or should I say fly through the air before it sears across my ass.”
He caught her nape in a strong hold, giving her no choice but to follow. With a wicked smile, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Who said anything about your ass?”
Crone
The Rawhide Ranch Dungeon
Crone watched with quiet satisfaction as Sienna settled onto her back on the spanking bench. When he spread her legs and covered her heat with his palm, her pulse raced against his hand like a trapped butterfly. His heart swelled as she looked at him with complete trust.
“Hmm, already excited about having your pussy whipped, I see.”
Sienna’s eyes were comically wide as she shot upright like a startled cat. “Pussy whipped?”" The words emerged in a squeak. “I didn’t... there is no way you’re coming near my pussy with any kind of impact tool. Whip whisperer or not, that’s not happening, Devil Master.”
He chuckled with delight at her frantic attempts to simultaneously shield herself and push his hand away.
“Huh-huh. You can’t say no,” he reminded her, not even trying to hide his bad-boy grin. “It’s my yes day, ’member?”
He watched with amusement as her mouth worked silently, like a fish seeking water, before she finally mumbled, “I should never have agreed to that.”
“Well, since it was your idea…”
“Thank you for that very unnecessary reminder, Master Crone.” Despite her huff and crossed arms, she remained seated. The trust beneath her mock outrage warmed him.
“So, it’s been decided. A pussy whipping it is.” His finger pressed against her lips, silencing the protest he could see forming. “The only choice you have to make is whether you want me to tie you down or not.”
She huffed, her cheeks puffing up like an indignant chipmunk. “That’s not a choice. That’s a trap. How about we skip the whipping and go straight to the part where you worship me like the goddess I am?”
Crone’s grin was all teeth. “Oh, kitten, I will worship you. Right after I turn that pretty pussy into a throbbing, weeping mess for me.” He squeezed her cheeks, watching her eyes narrow. “Tell me, do you have secret Little tendencies? Because I’d love to put you in a onesie and—”
“That’s not even remotely funny.” The warning in her voice was undercut by the way her lips twitched.
“Okay, fine.” He chuckled, guiding her back down. “Bindings or not, love. Choose.”
She exhaled through her nose with her newly discovered dramatic tendencies in full force. He loved every moment of it.
“I trust your skill not to maim me with an impact tool. But I don’t trust my traitorous legs to stay still when you start turning my clit into a punching bag.
” A hesitant beat. “Tie me up, Devil Master. But mark my words once you’re done I can assure you there will be no sex tonight or probably the rest of the week… maybe never again… I’ll be too sore.”
Crone’s eyebrows shot up. “Never again? That’s a bold threat.
” He leaned in and dropped his voice to a purr.
“Never fear, love. I’ve taken that into consideration.
” His fingers brushed the small of her back, pressing just enough to make her shiver.
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I believe it’s time we explore your back entrance tonight. See, I’m resourceful that way.”
She groaned even as heat scored her cheeks red. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are, about to let me whip your pussy raw.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, waiting for her nod before dragging them—and her soaked panties—down her thighs.
His breath hitched as he took her in, spread open and glistening, already trembling. “Fuck, look at you.”
Sienna’s cheeks flushed darker, but she didn’t look away. “Eyes up here, Master Crone.”
“Huh-huh. You don’t get to tell me where to look.” He barked a laugh, but his hands were gentle as they checked her corset, ensuring the scars beneath stayed hidden, knowing she didn’t want anyone to see them. “This stays,” he murmured, more to himself than her. “I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, my love.” Her whisper was a blade to the ribs. He swallowed hard, fingers lingering on the laces before he forced himself to move on. The restraints were snug but not cruel, just enough to keep her from instinctively clamping her thighs shut when the first strike landed.
He took his time positioning himself, letting his palm ghost over her inner thigh. Her breath hitched as her skin pebbled under his touch. “I’m going to start gently.” His voice was rough. “You’ll feel a sting, but it won’t be sharp. Let yourself feel it. Every slap, every kiss of the leather.”
The first strike was barely a whisper—a flick of his wrist as the falls kissed her outer lips with a wet smack. The line between pain and ecstasy instantly blurred as her hips jerked, seeking more rather than less.
“There we go,” he murmured, tracing the faint pink bloom on her skin. “Good girl.”
The second strike landed with more force, the leather falls catching the edge of her labia and dragging just enough to make her whimper. “Fuck—”
“Language,” he chided, but his cock was already throbbing. He delivered the third strike lower, letting the tip of the flogger dip between her folds, teasing her entrance. Her thighs shook, her breath stuttering in sharp little pants.
“You’re soaked,” he observed, dragging a finger through her arousal. “Dripping for me with such abundance. Such a greedy little thing you are.”
She glared at him, but it was ruined by the way her hips lifted, chasing his touch. “Shut up and hit me.”
Crone grinned. “Since you asked so nicely.”
The next strike was sharper, the leather cracking against her clit with such precision the scream tore from her throat.
“Fuck—oh shit!” Her spine curved taut as her wrists strained against the cuffs.
He didn’t let up, alternating between quick, stinging slaps to her inner lips and slower, deliberate strikes that sent waves of pleasure-pain through her body.
“That’s it,” he growled, watching her flesh darken and swell. “Take it. Take every fucking strike like the good girl you are.”
She whimpered. Her thighs were trembling. “It hurts—”
“But you love it.” He landed another blow, this one dead center on her clit. She screamed, her hips bucking wildly. “Master Crone—fuck—I can’t—”
“You can.” Her sobs punctuated each of the three rapid strikes that followed.
“You will.” His fingers replaced the flogger, pressing against her swollen flesh, gathering the essence dripping from her pussy and spreading it over her throbbing clit.
“Look at you. So wet it’s dripping down your ass. Such a desperate little slut for me.”
She let out a broken laugh, her chest heaving. “You’re such an asshole.”
“And yet, here you are, begging for more.” He landed another strike, this one catching her inner lips and slipping just inside her, the leather dragging against her sensitive walls. She keened as her entire body tensed. “Oh god—oh fuck—”
“That’s it,” he soothed, stroking her thigh. “Breathe through it. Let it burn.”
Her skin glistened with a pearly sheen of sweat as she panted, “I hate you.”
Crone’s voice caressed the words with sinful certainty, “No, you don't.” He delivered another strike, this one aimed just right with the strips catching her clit on the upswing. Her entire body jerked.
“Fuck—fuck—Master Crone, please—”
“Please what?” He traced idle circles around her entrance in a teasing caress. “Use your words, kitten.”
“Make me come, you sadistic fuck.”
He grinned. “Since you asked so politely.”
The next strike was a masterpiece—hard enough to make her scream, the leather wrapping around her clit and pulling just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through her.
He followed it immediately with his fingers, two of them plunging into her dripping pussy, curling against her G-spot as his thumb pressed down on her clit.
Sienna came with a wail, her body convulsing, her back arching so hard he thought she might snap. He didn’t stop, riding her through it, his fingers working her mercilessly until she was a trembling, sobbing mess.
When he finally released her and gathered her limp body against his chest, she let out a watery laugh. “I hate you.”
Crone pressed a kiss to her temple as the words rumbled from his chest, “No, you don’t.”
She tilted her head up. Her eyes were glazed but glimmered with emotion. “No,” she admitted. “I really, really don’t.”
“I’ve got you, kitten” he murmured into her hair, cradling her close as she slowly came back to herself. “I’ll always have you.”
He marveled at how far they had come—from the first meeting when both believed themselves too broken and too filled with darkness for love.
Now here they were. Her trust in him was absolute and his heart completely hers.
What had begun as two wounded souls seeking escape in pain had deepened into a profound and healing bond.
Their shared darkness carved spaces where light could enter, where love could take root and flourish.
Sienna peered up at him through heavy-lidded eyes with her cheeks still flushed and glowing. A mischievous smile played across her lips. “So... about that promise to explore my back entrance...”
Crone’s answering laugh rumbled deep in his chest. His kitten was insatiable. “I see someone’s feeling greedy tonight.”