Page 103 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

We continued this routine of me bringing her with me, until one day, she rose and walked to observe a scene, returning a few minutes later with a whip in her hands. She knelt by my feet and presented it to me, a silent plea.

“Really?”

“Please, Master.”

I still don’t know what compelled her to choose the whip, or why she changed her mind. Anthony had already taught me to use the tool, and it was comfortable in my hands. People watched as I bound her wrists in a rope and hooked them above her head to a bar on the wall. Her head was down, like she was readying herself to accept a punishment that she had earned.

“You can tell me to stop,” I said softly before I stepped back and struck her.

She lifted her head, stared me right in the eye, and spoke with a loud, firm, clear voice. “No.”

Becca came alive underthe whip. She was beautiful when she cried, and she laughed when her pain built. It was like the pain drained the turmoil from her mind. She lived for the fight against subspace, rather than the sinking down into it.

Over time we became friends, and occasionally lovers, but it was more of a bond of trust than sexual desire. She knew when I was frustrated from work and what I needed, and I knew when she was feeling weak and broken and needed pain to wake her back up again.

I wanted to see her grow into something amazing. But I was finding myself overwhelmed and busy. I traveled a lot, and I worried that I was neglecting her.

One day while Becca was sitting quietly with some of the other submissive girls she liked to talk with, one of my friends and mentors approached me. I admitted my concerns surrounding my busy schedule, and he offered to look after her while I was out of town.

“I’ve grown quite fond of her, actually,” Jeff said. “She’s a sweet girl. So bright.”

“She’s a warrior,” I said, looking over to the girls. Becca stood out against the others. She didn’t seem to fit in with them. She sat in the middle of the huddle, a different kind of energy surrounding her than the others. I couldn’t explain it.

When I looked back at Jeff, he was staring at her with desire in his eyes.

“I’m not giving her to you.”

“Do you not trust that I would care for her better than you do?”

Jeff was quite a bit older than me, maybe in his mid-forties, and had much more need of a submissive than I did. He lived alone and his children were grown. I knew he had money and would probably have a lot more time to dedicate to Becca.

But I loved her. She was mine, my flower who was blooming, my princess who was turning into a queen. And she fawned over me. Her servitude had changed from serving out of fear, to serving out of love, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“You’re about to spend three weeks away from home. You just said so. Are you going to neglect your slave for that long? Will you take her with you? Lock her in a hotel room away from her friends and her new life? Or will you leave her alone to fend for herself in your tiny, empty apartment?”

I knew he was right, and I hated it. But the best thing I could do for Becca right now was find somewhere safe for her over the next few months while I continued to grow my businesses and honor the contracts I’d signed.

I told her that night that she would be spending some time with Jeffrey Ludlow while I was gone. She was unhappy about the decision, but she respected it. She understood it was for her own good.

I kissed her goodbye a few days later. By the time I returned, Becca had fallen in love with him.

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