Page 44 of Shared on the Ranch

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Chyanne

Her eyes were focused on Aaron’s hand. More specifically, on the whip that he now held. He must have felt the weight of her gaze, because he flicked his wrist, making the leather flails snap.

She lifted her gaze to him, trying to keep her lip from quivering and failing. “What…” She swallowed hard. “What are you going to do?”

“Just stand right there. Be as still as possible.”

She glanced at Chandler. Her sexy cowboy daddy. Looking at him, with his arms folded across his chest, his face somehow stern and tender toward her all at once, seeing his genuine concern helped her steel herself for what was to come.

And then there was Aaron. She looked at him, letting her eyes trace his pecs, his toned, flat stomach, his delectable abs…

They both cared about her. She could see it, even though Aaron’s jaw was clenched; she knew he just wanted to do a good job.

And his job is making sure I remember to do what I’m told.She internally repeated the words he’d told her just before he’d taken off his shirt—revealing a tanned, toned, and mouth-watering six-pack—and shown her the whip.

“Do I need to tie you?” he’d asked, trailing the head and the leather flails down her arm.

“N-no,” she’d answered haltingly. She’d looked for Chandler then, too, locking gazes with him and finding the strength she needed in his eyes. “I can do it.” She saw him smile, felt the warmth of it fill her, and she’d moved her gaze back to Aaron. “I-I want to make you proud of me.”

Chyanne felt a shiver run over her skin, both at the cool air in the room and the promised punishment to come.

Then Chandler was undoing the button of her jeans. When he unsnapped the button, her eyes flew to his face.

He’s so handsome—so stern.Another shiver that had nothing to do with the cold rippled through her.And speaking of stern…Her eyes flitted over to her master. He was watching her with taut muscles and a face that gave nothing away.

“Step out,” Chandler ordered as he pulled her jeans down.

She obeyed immediately and as soon as he freed each foot, he tossed the jeans aside.

They’d seen everything there was to see and more than once, but somehow she still felt embarrassed to be bared before them this way. She felt her face fill with humiliating heat, betraying her.

Chandler gave each cheek of her quivering backside a firm smack. “Now you’re all ready.”

She’d meant it when she’d promised to be a good girl. She really had. But now, as she stood naked in front of them, struggling with what she should do with her hands, she started having second thoughts. Finally, she moved them across her breasts.

Aaron made a sound low in his throat that was part whistle, part growl.

“What?” she asked, unable to keep herself from sounding defensive.

“Move ‘em.”

She glanced at Chandler, but his handsome face was unreadable, and she found no help there. She hesitantly uncrossed her arms and let them hang awkwardly at her sides. The air felt weighty with uncertainty and charged with her trepidation.

Not that she was afraid of Aaron. She wasn’t—but the whip he brandished with such confidence and authority, on the other hand…

The air whistled as the whip came lashing down on her right breast.

Her eyes widened as the pain pricked her tender skin. Before she could so much as utter anowit came down again, just as hard, on the left breast.

“Hey!” she snapped, raising her arms to defend her poor, aching boobs.

Aaron’s eyes sparkled—dark and hard. And when he spoke, his voice matched that. “Move them.”

Sniffling, she let her arms fall inch by inch, but she had to clench her fists to keep them that way.

The flails fell again, and though they hadn’t felt particularly punishing at first, the longer they kept raining down, the more the pain built. And her stupid, traitorous right breast hardened as though it was aroused.

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