Page 73 of Spoiling Lillian
I back up, pick up the set of heavy floggers, and position myself behind her. Starting with light strokes, I get my rhythm quickly, making figure eights in the air as I let the falls land across her shoulder blades.
When Luna’s skin is pink and warm, I pause, step up close to her, and set a hand on the top of her head. “Color, Luna.”
“Green, Sir.” She’s swaying slightly, and her voice is calm. Right where she should be.
“Shall I continue?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I pay no attention to the growing crowd. It’s normal. I won’t let them distract me. I’m only aware of their presence in my peripheral vision. My focus is on my submissive—a woman who has turned her care over to me for thirty minutes.
I resume flogging Luna’s back, moving up and down to include her bottom and the backs of her thighs. I’m aware of every move she makes. Every so often, I strike her harder, causing her to arch forward and whimper. It’s normal. Expected. Routine.
Checking in with her every five minutes or so, I finally decide she’s had enough from the floggers. Her skin is hot and red. I won’t draw blood. It’s not something I enjoy. I prefer leaving marks that will fade in several hours or even days. Permanent reminders of our time together are not in my repertoire. If a masochist wants their sadist to draw blood, they have to find a different play partner.
As I step up to Luna’s side once more, I pay close attention to her face. She’s blissful, a small smile on her lips.
“Ready for the cane, Luna?”
She licks her lips. “Yes, Sir.”
“Four parallel strikes, as we discussed.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.” She braces herself.
I set my floggers down and pick up the cane she chose before returning to her side. I don’t tell her when the first strike will come. It’s how she prefers it. The slight whistle as my cane whips through the air is her only warning before the rattan leaves its mark. A perfect welt rises high across her butt cheeks.
Luna moans, but holds her form.
I quickly strike again, this time on the backs of her thighs.
She rises onto her toes and throws her head back. “Yes…” she mutters. This is usual for her. She enjoys the release she’s getting from the pain.
My next strike lands below the first, across her bottom, and the final hit raises a welt at her sit spot. That one is going to smart tomorrow.
I immediately go to her, my hand cupping her head. “Deep breaths, Luna.”
She draws in air and lets it out slowly.
“You can lower your arms now.”
She’s shaking as she releases the rungs and grabs the sides of the cross close to her chest.
I’m surprised when a hand lands on my back, and I quickly turn my head to find Carson next to me, his expression tight.
He nods over his shoulder. “You’re needed elsewhere. I’ve got Luna.”
I jerk my gaze beyond him in time to see the back of Lillian as she disappears quickly around the corner. Shit. I look back at Carson. It’s not my style to walk away from a sub. Luna needs aftercare that I agreed to provide. It’s inappropriate for me to leave.
Shifting my attention to Luna, I find her eyes clearer than expected. “I’m fine.”
I frown. “You’re my responsibility.”
She glances at Carson. “I’m good, Bryson. Really. Carson can hold a water bottle for me.” She gives me a crooked grin as if holding a water bottle is the only thing that matters in aftercare. “Go.”
Turning to Carson, I thank him, place my cane on the table, and take off at a jog.
Shit.
