Page 45 of Taming Scarlet

It was empty.

And it hurt her when I didn’t give her it.

When I’d forced her to face what she thought of as my rejection. Then handle the emotions that brought up.

She needed to learn to release all that bullshit.

Once she stopped fighting me, I could show her how to fill back up.

One step at a time, though.

And I was enjoying the taming stage, so I was in no rush to move past it.

Just because she’d let me restrain her with almost no objection didn’t mean she wasn’t going to find that spoiled, bratty side of herself again. Especially as the punishment dragged on.

It was going to get more unpleasant for her before it got better.

I climbed out of bed where she was still sleeping, letting Hugh out, then feeding him before setting up a dog walker to give him some enrichment while I worked with his mom for a while.

Finished with that, I made my way back into the room, stopping for a moment while she was still sleeping to let my gaze move over her.

She really was beautiful.

Perfect.

It was a crime that she let strangers decide that for her.

Naked for me, I couldn’t help but feel my cock stiffen as I watched her chest rise and fall, her round tits lifting and falling, her rosy nipples slightly pointed from the chill of the room.

Her legs had fallen open slightly at the knees, giving me a view of her perfect fucking pussy, too.

That was the hardest part of this stage.

Not burying my face, fingers, and cock there, feeling her walls tighten, hearing her beg and cry for release.

But she hadn’t earned that yet.

I moved around the room, gathering my clothes for the day, and by the time I finished, she was stirring.

“Morning, pet,” I murmured, moving over toward her side of the bed, and releasing her ankles. Then wrists.

“Ow,” she grumbled as she pulled her arms down by her sides.

“Come here,” I said, reaching for her, and was pleased when she immediately folded forward toward me.

My arms lifted, hands sinking into her shoulders, and rubbing at the aching muscles there.

Punishments were important.

So was showing her that I cared.

“I have to—“ she started.

“Hugh already went out and ate. And is on a walk with a dog walker,” I told her.

“Oh,” she said, head lolling forward against my shoulder as my fingers found a sore spot, and started to loosen the knot.

It wasn’t long before her pain had morphed into something else, and little whimpers were escaping her.

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