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Returning to her back, he lashed the crop over her ass, ensuring it landed precisely where he wanted, leaving red lines spaced evenly from the uppermost curve of her buttocks all the way down to where they met her thighs.

Dropping the crop, he moved close and reached up to check her circulation, squeezing her fingers. Finding them warm and flexible, he set his hands on her shoulders, mercilessly dragging his short nails down her tender flesh until she squirmed and shuddered, finishing with a resounding slap of his palms on her ass.

Gayle responded by leaning forward, straining her arms in the chains as she offered her derriere for more.

As far as asses went, it was well-shaped, firm, toned.

It just wasn’t the one he wanted.

After a moment of deliberation, Merrick chose the devil’s tail butt plug next. Three feet of supple black leather braided into a tail that tapered from thick at the plug to a thinner, whippy end topped with a fat triangle of matching leather.

He couldn’t help imagining Tamsyn’s whimpers as he parted her cheeks and pressed the thin steel plug against her rosebud, forcing the metal through her virgin asshole until the muscles swallowed it whole and held it in place.

Because it wasn’t his little owl bound in front of him, he shook the delightful image away and wrapped his hand around the plug instead, taking a step back and snapping the braided leather at the reddened bottom before him.

It cracked the air, wrenching a holy cry of wonder from the sub when it landed. He swung again and again, testing speed and strength until every blow that fell ripped the same joyous noise from Gayle’s mouth.

When her thighs began to shake and her breath came in ragged pants, it wasn’t a surprise to hear her choke out, “Green. Green please, Master Merrick.”

She was ready for the finale, and so was he. His muscles were starting to ache, his chest, back, and shoulders glistening with sweat. Trapped in his jeans, his cock was frustrated by the constant flitting of his brain interposing Tamsyn in Gayle’s place, throbbing with arousal that didn’t belong to the woman who demanded his attention.

The chain link flogger was heavy in his hand. It was meant to be. In the wrong hands, it was a formidable weapon capable of untold damage against soft, vulnerable flesh. The handle was ribbed steel, giving his palm a solid grip, and the long, thin chains clinked together as he twisted his wrist, reacquainting himself with the momentum of their weight.

Starting high, he flicked them against her shoulders, feeling the links thump against her shoulders. Using only his wrist, he battered her upper body carefully, turning her skin red with pattered welts and making her breathing hitch as the pain she needed burned deep.

It was second nature to avoid the areas that might cause her harm. The metal only connected with flesh, not bone, and he was careful not to land the harsh fronds near her spine or kidneys.

When he reached her ass, he stepped back and paused as a strange feeling washed over him. The hairs on his upper body stood to attention as his skin prickled uneasily.

Frowning, he shook it off and let the flogger fly.

Gayle screamed as the links lit up her ass, layering welts on top of welts as blow after blow landed, some bruising on impact. “Green! Green!”

Merrick had played with her often enough to recognize her tells. He gave her three more wicked strikes in quick succession, then brought the last up between her legs with a brutal flick of his wrist. The chain links lashed across her pussy, biting into the delicate, undoubtedly swollen flesh protected by her wet panties, and her knees buckled.

The flogger crashed to the floor in a musical jingle as he hooked his arm around her waist, catching her before her shoulder joints took the brunt of her weight. He held her tight as she convulsed in orgasm, reaching up with his free hand to release the hooks and lower her carefully to the padded mat beneath them.

Her screams echoed around the dungeon as she writhed, completely lost in pleasure born from pain—she was in her ultimate happy place, flying high and drowning in bliss at the same time.

As her screams dwindled to contented whimpers, Merrick gently laid her down on her stomach, gratefully accepting the blanket one of the DMs brought to him. He shook it out and covered her with it—she always refused aftercare, which didn’t sit well with him, especially when he knew her system was completely depleted.

She wouldn’t even let him rub aloe into her ass the last time he turned it from a perfect white canvas into an artistic study of pinks, reds, purples, and blues.

Gayle came with one goal in mind, and was independent enough to need no one after she attained it.

Dutifully, he sat with her in silence until she regained her wits. Just because she dealt with her own baggage didn’t mean he wouldn’t offer to help regardless.

With a soft, pained whimper, she shifted until she lay on her side, her eyes glazed as they drifted to meet his. A quiet smile of fulfilment curved her lips. “Thank you, Master Merrick. You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“You’re welcome, as always.” He cocked his head. “You gonna let me help this time?”

“Not necessary. I like to let the pain settle in and smooth me out.”

He grunted in disapproval. “I know. Our usual compromise, then?”

Gayle smiled tiredly. “Yes, I will let you summon one of the minions to escort me back to my cabin and sit with me for a while. I know you worry, Master Merrick, although I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Not gonna lecture you on how to take care of yourself,” he replied gruffly, lifting his hand to call over theminionhe’d asked to stay on standby. “If you need help, ask for it. That’s what we’re all here for, Gayle.”