Chapter 10
The smoldering ash of Gage’s retribution encased my backside. He wasn’t counting tonight, which made receiving the lashes of his belt even more challenging because I didn’t know when they’d stop.
I thought they’d never stop.
Through the strikes, I refrained from sobbing, bit back every moan of pain, every whimper at the bone-chilling crack of leather against flesh.
But then he moved on to a paddle riddled with holes, and I couldn’t help but let loose a whimper.
The real test came with the cane, never mind the bullwhip because I couldn’t begin to comprehend making it through that, and I prayed to anyone listening that Gage would stop after the cane.
Crack!
“Ahhh! Plea—” I choked on the plea, horrified at the thought of starting from square one.
He walked to the front of the bench and stared down at me. I could only imagine what I must look like—blotchy skin from the tears that finally escaped, mouth open to pant through the pain, and strands of hair caught in my eyes, stuck to my cheek from sweat and saliva.
His soft, warm fingers brushed my hair back from my face. “What could you have done differently?”
“What do you mean, Master?”
“At the hotel when you first saw him. Tell me what you could have done differently that might have saved you this level of punishment.”
“I could’ve called you.”
“You should have called me, at the very least.”
“I know, Master. I’m sorry I let you down.”
“You disappointed me,” he said, brushing a thumb over my lips, “but you didn’t let me down. You weren’t unfaithful, and this punishment will ensure you stay loyal to me until the day you die. I won’t allow you to stumble again.”
He disappeared once more, and the next blow to my ass stole my breath. I couldn’t make a sound if I tried. His evil cane cut across my ass in sharp lines, one on top of the other, and I knew from experience that those wounds would stay with me for a while, above and below the surface.
Some time later, the cane clattered to the floor. He’d been dropping implements left and right, which was so unlike him. He reached for the bullwhip, and that’s when I slipped up. That’s when a sob escaped, and I cried out a plea in the form of his favorite title.
“Master…” God, how I choked on the word, but I almost threw up at the thought of his whip landing on top of the welts from the cane.
He came to stand in front of me again, bullwhip held in a white-knuckled grip. “Do we need to start over?”
“No! I want the bullwhip!” Desperation strung those words together, screeched in a high-pitched tone.
“Don’t lie to me. We both know you hate the bullwhip.”
“I’m sorry, Master. Don’t make me start over again.” My voice was near to pleading, which terrified me even more. “I just want this to be over.”
And that was the honest fucking truth.
He leaned down, and his lips claimed my mouth. The kiss was too brief; a fleeting moment of bliss that seemed more like a dream in my current mental state. He pulled away, and I ached to do something—anything—to bring his mouth back. As long as he kissed me, he wouldn’t hurt me anymore.
“This will be over soon, baby. Then we can move on.”
Soon was not the word I’d use. His inner sadist had taken control, and he wasn’t likely to unhand the reins anytime soon.
Gage lost himself a little more to that monster with each minute that passed.
And there were a lot of them. Minute after minute after minute of his bullwhip cracking through the air before it thrashed my thoroughly abused ass.
Forget composure. Forget acceptance. I screamed and cried and even cursed.
“I hate you!” I sobbed.
“I don’t blame you for saying that right now,” he said, a note of hurt tainting his voice as he brought the whip onto my ass once again.
“Fuck you! How can you be so cruel?” Hell, I lashed out in any form he’d allow.
As long as I wasn’t begging for it to stop, he let me throw my agony-induced tantrums, similar to a woman in the throes of labor during the horrendous stage of transition.
And that’s where I was—out of my mind with pain and so high on adrenaline that reality was a nebulous concept viewed through warped glass.
“You don’t love me,” I whined.
“I love you too much.”
Whack!
“This isn’t love!” My words echoed off the walls, and only then did I realize I’d screamed them.
“You’re probably right, but it’s the only way I know how to love.”
Whack!
“Oh God! Fuck! Fuck! It hurts, Gage. It hurts!”
“It’s supposed to hurt.”
“No,” I moaned, unable to find the strength to keep screaming at him. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.”
He dropped the whip, and as that fucker hit the ground, echoing with hope through my ears, I’d never experienced so much relief. I would never, ever cross this man again. Ever.
“Thank God,” I mumbled.
“We’re not done yet.”
But I didn’t care. He could stick his thumb up my ass all night long if he wanted, because that was a hundred times better than getting spanked, lashed with a belt, beat with a paddle, struck with a cane, and tormented with a bullwhip. I was in no hurry to examine my backside in a mirror.
Gage opened a drawer and pulled out a rod-like toy of some sort, and that’s when it hit me that he wasn’t planning to use his thumb. The instrument was long and fat, bigger than his cock, and one end had a rounded head designed for penetration.
Begging for mercy was on the tip of my tongue, so I bit it instead.
“I want anal sex to be amazing for you. To achieve that goal it’s going to take time and patience, and harsh anal punishments to remind you of how pleasurable my cock can be in comparison. You’re going to learn the differences between anal penetration for pleasure and punishment.”
“It’s too big, Master.”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “I allowed you to cry and insult me during the first portion of your discipline. But now you will remain quiet and reflect on the behavior that got you here. Don’t make me start over, Kayla.”
I clenched my teeth, knowing that I’d summon the strength to get through this.
I was stronger than he realized…or maybe he did realize the extent of my resilience.
Maybe that’s why he pushed so hard—because he knew I could bounce back from his shit.
Maybe I was the one woman capable of surviving Gage Channing’s all-consuming sadism.
But as he inched that steel shaft up my ass, using a minimal amount of lube, I wondered if maybe they should just toss me in a loony bin and throw away the key.