5. Sawyer
SAWYER
As we enter the training room, Luna walks straight to the wall of toys, her gaze scanning the array of floggers, canes, riding crops, and one whip. All of which do wonders for the silent threat necessary for an intimidating room such as this. None of which I used on her—or ever planned to.
It seems Luna feels differently.
She paces with all the confidence of a Priapus. Hands clasped behind her naked back, chest wide, spine strong. Her muscles don’t clench. Her hair doesn’t shield but instead falls down her back, an unbroken curtain of white.
Odd for Luna.
Sexy as hell.
Finally, her attention lands, her feet twisting to face the wall. She inspects the base of a riding crop with one delicate fingernail before following the straight path to the black leather loop at the other end—called a keeper, actually. How ironic.
She plucks the crop from the wall, turns it over in her hands, then holds it up for me to see. “I’d like you to hit me with this.”
No expression creases the smooth stone of her face as she comes toward me with the crop outstretched. A second skips by before I carefully take it.
“Do you mean spank?”
She dips her chin sharply in a nod that should be convincing. She certainly looks like a woman who knows what she wants.
Yet my cock has slowly begun to shrink.
I press the crop to her chest. “How about you hit me instead?”
No expression crosses her face, but she isn’t quick to take the crop. Only when I let it drop does she snatch the handle up. The tiniest bit of something flickers in her eyes before being eaten by the cold.
“If you insist. Remove your clothes and face the pole, hands above your head.”
Anger. Subtle, just a slight edge to her voice, but it’s there.
For God’s sake, does she know about Angel or not?
Yes, Head Keeper, feels like the wrong thing to say, so I say nothing. This isn’t a game, it’s an outlet.
Fine. I like sex for that purpose too.
Turning around, I pull off my shirt and step up to the pole. My jeans are still unbuttoned from earlier, so my pants and boxers fall easily with a quick yank. I kick them behind me and press my hands against the red padding, inching my feet back so my body angles for her.
When the first slap of leather against my lower back comes, my ass clenches and arms tense. A low grunt pops from my mouth at the unexpected sting.
Before I have a chance to prepare myself, Luna strikes me again, hard, even harder than the first swing.
Definitely an outlet.
“Fuck.” I groan through clenched teeth as she whips the crop against my right kidney in three sharp blows, one after the other. I don’t realize she’s directly aiming for it until she does the same with my left, a jabbing pain shooting from my kidney all the way through my skull.
She’s talented, I’ll give her that.
“All right, Luna. Ease up.”
The crop pauses long enough for her mocking laughter to cut through the air. “You were too weak to hit me, and now you’re too weak to be hit? Is that right?” She strikes me across the ass with such a practiced swing. I lurch forward an inch.
Something occurs to me: she is practiced.
The electric whips used on the Dregs were her design and unlikely to be the first. Whether I can picture it or not, Luna has been in those mines with a whip in her hand. Merciless and educated in the right flick of the wrist, grip of the handle, the perfect force to deliver maximum pain.
She hits me again. And again, seemingly as hard as she’s capable.
“You’re a coward, you know that?” She strikes me between the shoulder blades. “These are your tools. You brought them here so you could hurt me. But now that you know who I am, you’re too afraid to use them.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?”
She slaps my inner thigh in response. “I think you’re afraid of everything, slave. You told me so.” Leather strikes the back of my head, the bite causing my forehead to dig into the padding.
Too far.
Way too fucking far.
I turn halfway, the words calm down halfway out of my mouth when the crop bites my ear.
“Shit.” I cover my ear and grind my forehead against the pole.
“Do you think it’s your daddy trauma that makes you such a pussy? Or are you still trying to be Mommy’s good boy?”
Two harsh strikes, but these I hardly feel.
My eyes open wide, my chest expanding with an inhale that spreads fire through my ears.
I sense when Luna raises the crop once more, but before she can strike, I shove off the pole, angle my body to the side, and fling her forward. She catches herself on the padding, back bowing as I shove her between her shoulder blades.
I hold her firmly in place while putting my mouth to her ear. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“I said you’re a pussy.”
My hand glides up the base of her skull and curls a fist in her hair. I yank her head back, panting in her ear. “The other part.”
Her chest rises and falls in little jerky movements, and in the quiet, her breathing is as loud as a scream. I barely hear her whisper, “Punish me.”
My fist loosens at the plea dripping in her tone. Painful and desperate and…
Not about Angel.
In the two seconds it takes for me to understand the grief curled around Luna’s plea, she pushes her head against my hand to urge my fist back into compliance. I look down at my stomach, and though the wet warmth she left me with is gone and dried, I feel it hotter than before.
I close my eyes. Take a breath.
Then command lust to pump blood faster through my veins.
I let go of her hair to weave my hand around her waist. Stepping back, I guide her with me so her back arches and her ass sticks out.
The crop rests abandoned where Luna stood, and I scoop it up before rolling my shoulders. My anger vanished at the sound of Luna’s voice, but I speak in a harsh tone anyway. This isn’t a game, but … I do know how to play.
“You’ve been a vicious little slut, haven’t you?”
Her feet shuffle before she nods. “Yes.”
"Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir,” she squeaks out, muscles melting as the ice thaws.
I slap the crop across her ass and watch as she jumps, her shoulders jutting with a gasp. Much harder than I’d normally spank.
“Tell me everything you’ve done.” I slam the crop down on her tailbone. Another jump. Another gasp.
I expect something simple. Something relevant—I lied to you, I hit you.
Instead: “I fucked the new initiate.”
I go perfectly still, crop half raised. My mind freezes for a couple seconds, but of course, it’s impossible. Angel would never betray Liberty…
Oh.
She wants me angry.
“What?!” Before she can respond, I slap her ass, her thigh, then her ass again. “You nasty little whore.”
“I loved it,” she yelps out past a familiar strike to her kindle. A red welt forms in the shape of the crop. “He’s so much better than you.”
Slap.
“Handsomer than you.”
Thud.
“Bigger than you.”
I belt out a cruel laugh while whipping at the heel she’s lifted to rub away the sting at her thigh. She yelps and stretches on her toes. “Now I know you’re lying.”
“Fuck you.” Her voice trembles the slightest bit, but I’m not naive enough to think it’s from pain.
I flip the crop over so the leather loop is pressed against my wrist when I step up to Luna. She spreads her legs when I kick at her feet, but I don’t imagine she sees it coming when the riding crop's roped handle spears her pussy. She shrieks, her hands wrapping around the pole, hugging her to it.
“Is this big enough for you?”
“No.” She shakes her head, breaths stuttering.
My hand presses to her lower back while I slide the crop’s handle in and out of her, its rough edges making her whimper.
“That’s because his cum is soaking your cunt.
Maybe you aren’t a liar, after all. Maybe you did love it.
” When she doesn’t answer, I jerk the crop inside of her, so deep I no doubt hit her cervix. “How about this, Luna? Is this enough?"
A cry that shatters halfway out her mouth. For once, if I looked at her eyes, I might see tears.
“No.”
The tightness of my jaw loosens for a fraction of a second. I wish I didn’t believe her. “No, what?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, too bad.” I pull the handle from her pussy and take a step back. “You don’t get to come unless it’s from my cock.”
“You’re disgusting,” she snarls, though her body trembles almost violently. “You’re sick.”
“But you love it.”
“I hate you!” Her voice carries through the house—so loud, it makes me pause. Anyone walking outside could hear. “I hate you.” This time it’s a strangled cry. “I hate you.”
The words tumble from her lips as her shoulders quake as thoroughly as if I’ve shaken her. I wait for any of those words to contain ‘stop’ or ‘please’ or 'enough.' Or even just Sawyer. Or even a real cry, a hug of the pole, her hips shifting forward to tell me she’s done.
She doesn’t. I know better than to ask.
I wait for her to quiet before I take another step back. “Why don’t you tell me what you deserve.”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move.
With a quick flick of my wrist, I spank the underside of her ass, a lot softer this time. Just to leave a sting. “Answer me, slut.”
“I don’t know.”
My ears perk up at the rise in her pitch—a liar’s tell Luna should know very well how to hide. Does not know how to hide; is merely choosing not to.
I strike her in the same spot, a little harder. “Yes, you do. This is your game. Tell me what you deserve.”
Again, she doesn’t answer.
“Are you finished?”
“No.” Automatic.
I bring the crop down on her lower back, and it lands with a crack. “Then answer me.”
She whimpers and rises onto her toes, stretching her calves before inching backward. Toward me. Not away.
I huff out a dry laugh and sweep the crop over her ankles, left and right, again and again so she squeaks and bounces on her toes like she’s dancing. “I swear to God, Luna, if you don’t answer me, I’m gonna stop.”
“I don’t know,” she cries out, rubbing her ankle with her toes until I swat the sole of her foot.
“You’re a liar.”
“I’m sorry! I don’t know!”
I stand up straight and bring the crop down between her shoulder blades, a phantom pain throbbing in the same spot on my back where she struck me. I work my way down her back, landing blow after blow while she stays in place, hugging the pole.
Little cries bubble from her mouth, but I don’t stop. For any other girl, I would. I’d be horrified, throw down the crop, and apologize.
But for Luna, I know better. I can’t be certain, but I think she wants to cry.
I hit harder, striking the same spot on her ass until it’s angry red and looks hot to the touch, and only then do I move to another spot.
The harder she cries, the harder I hit. The more her ass lifts, the harder I hit.
She doesn’t relent. She doesn’t beg me to stop.
When sweat rolls into my brow, I pause long enough to wipe it away with the back of my hand. “Just tell me, Luna… Just tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”
I lift the crop when she doesn’t answer but hover it as her head shakes. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” I swat her swollen ass, not quite light, but not hard. I have to be careful now, or I’m going to break skin.
She shakes her head again, a sob making her shoulders shake.
“Come on, baby.” I swat the inside of her thigh.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
Blowing out a harsh breath, I throw the crop down, spear my hand through her hair and yank her into my chest. My hand slips between her legs, and I start to rub. “Tell me.”
Her body presses harder against me, her legs spreading, but she doesn’t answer.
“Come on, Luna. It’s time to be my good girl now. Do you want to be my good girl?”
Her breathing shallow and eyes clenched shut, she nods.
I rub a little faster, a little harder. “Hmm?”
“Yes.”
I open my mouth, ready to push her, but she cuts me off with two words that make my hand pause and my lungs stop working.
“Yes, Daddy.”