Page 42 of Ryker

“Hold your palm flat,” Dmitri orders. When I do, he hits me with the whip. It doesn’t hurt at all. “How was that?”

“Green,” I say, automatically fixating on Ryker. “Very green.”

“Show her how to swing it.” Ryker stays on his knees with his hands resting on his thighs. He doesn’t break eye contact with me. Not even when Dmitri makes the first strike across his back.

The sound of impact isn’t hard or sharp like I expect. It’s almost lazy and slow. “That’s not how it works,” I say, more to myself than them. Every time I’ve seen a toy like this used downstairs, the strikes are so harsh, I always flinch hearing them.

“It is when you first start and you’re new.” Ryker keeps still while Dmitri hits him again and again, moving the strikes back and forth across his shoulder blades. Each hit gets a little faster, and a little harder as he keeps a steady rhythm. The tassel’s rustles grow louder and become more uniform. Mr. Hudson’s eyes soon glaze over. A calmness takes over his body, his posture sagging as his mouth parts and expression relaxes.

“Your Dom drops into subspace fast like this,” Dmitri says to me. “Does he look hurt to you?”

I shake my head, unable to pull my gaze from Mr. Hudson. He looks sublime. Beautiful.

“That’s because he chose a very sweet flogger for you, Butterfly. He’s not going to hurt you. Not unless you negotiate ahead of time and give consent first.”

“Pain isn’t my kink.” Shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. “I mean, no offense. You do you, but…” I still can’t pull my eyes from Ryker. It’s like his head has shut off.

I want that for myself too. But more so, I want to give Ryker this level of euphoria. I know he’s hurting, even if I don’t know why, and if I can help ease that pain for him by doing something like this, I want to learn how.

Dmitri continues flogging him, harder, faster. Ryker lets out a small groan and tips forward. My mouth waters at the sight of his back—it’s got small pink welts and a few red slash marks.

“Does it hurt yet?” I ask, dropping down on my knees, dying to run my hands across his sweaty skin.

“No,” Ryker confesses in a deep tone. He arches when I run my fingers along his back. “Fuck, woman.”

I pull away instantly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. Your cold fingers feel incredible on me.”

I run my hands along his back again, loving that my touch may offer some relief.

Dmitri leans down and grumbles in my ear, “Would you like a turn, Butterfly?”

Considering Dmitri could have very well whipped the hell out of Ryker for what just happened outside, but instead gave him only pleasure, and the way Ryker is still glassy-eyed and groaning? I can’t imagine a better way to experience this for the first time.

“Yes, please.” My hands wrap around the soft leather corded handle of the flogger.

“Swing just like I showed you.”

My strikes are nowhere near as precise as Dmitri’s. I don’t think Ryker cares. The power I feel is astounding. Ryker trusting me like this means so much, I’d never fuck it up. To know each slash I make across his back somehow brings him relief, makes my chest crack open.

There’s so much pain. So much aggression. So much everything inside him.

Does flogging shove those emotions back down in their hole, or does it give them a way out of his body?

My voice drops to a sultry tone as lust floods my body. “What color are you?”

“Green.” He runs his hands over his thighs. “Very green, Butterfly.”

“Do you want to feel what he feels?”

Dmitri’s icy blue eyes connect with mine, pulling me under his spell too. I don’t know what’s happening to my head right now, but I feel light as a feather. “Yes.” God, yes.

“I’ll do you both together, if you wish.”

Holy Hell. “Okay.” I mirror Mr. Hudson’s position, and brace for Dmitri’s first strike.

“Relax, Butterfly. Trust your Dom to keep you safe.”

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