Page 127

She exhaled softly as vibrations thrummed through her arm, the pitch of the saw changing beyond the protection of Merrick’s hands. The two men’s voices were muffled; she heard Jasper laugh and Merrick’s rumbling chuckle in response. Her shoulders tensed as she wondered whether they were laughing at her, but fingertips massaged her scalp and ushered the worry away.

Opening her eyes a crack, she watched the blade travel back and forth in a straight line along the top of the cast, guided by Jasper’s steady hand. The plaster was splitting apart bit by bit to reveal the padding beneath the hard outer shell. A quick peek at Jasper’s face showed her that even though his mouth was moving as he talked with Merrick, his concentration was completely on her arm… until he flicked his gaze to hers and winked.

Hurriedly, she slammed her eyes shut again, terrified she’d defied their orders and committed some heinous act of rebellion—one spanking in a woman’s lifetime was quite enough as far as her butt was concerned.

Of course, as soon as she had that particular thought, her brain helpfully summoned the memory of Merrick’s huge hand whomping on her butt with heavy, precise blows. A flush stained her cheeks, recalling how her skin sang with pain and then the pain sank deeper… lower… until her belly felt heavy and—

Her arm jerked; the saw stopped whining.

Merrick’s hands lifted away from her head. “You can open your eyes now, darlin’.”

No, thanks. Her arm was flat on the table, being pulled and tugged at by Jasper. The cast made weird noises as it spread open, and she tucked her cheek against her shoulder at thesnip, snip, snipof scissors slicing through the damp padding.

She didn’t look until she felt the support of the cast disappear, leaving her open to the chill of the room. After six weeks of being swaddled, her arm almost seemed… estranged. It was thin, depleted, the muscles gone. The skin was pale and clammy, but when she tentatively scratched it… oh, sweet and blessed Lord above, the sensation was divine.

“No, little one. Once you start, you won’t stop until you damage yourself.” Jasper gently nudged her hand away, then used his own to palpate along the bone. “Any pain?”

She shook her head. Her arm felt too light without the weight of the cast, and incredibly weak, but there wasn’t any pain.

“Okay, that’s good. Circle your wrist for me, nice and slow.”

There was some creaking, a lot of stiffness. Remembering how it had cracked and snapped when she fell, she was reluctant to move it too much. It was an experience she didn’t want to relive again anytime soon.

“All right, everything seems in working order. I think a sling is going to work in your favor; wear it for a week, ten days, and do some daily exercises to start building the muscles back up.” Jasper patted her hand and pushed his chair away, rising to search through Linnie’s organized cupboards. “I’m not a doctor, but I’m confident you’re going to live, Tamsyn.”

She blinked for a few seconds before she caught the joke. An anxious giggle bubbled out—who knew the sadist had a sense of humor? “I-It’s not broken anymore?”

“All healed up. Just give it some time before you do any heavy lifting.” A cupboard door opened, closed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Thinking of Merrick’s nefarious plan for later, Tamsyn slanted her gaze toward her Dom. “Does that mean no playing in horrible, scary rooms?”

Merrick’s snort was amused. “Oh, little owl. I can tie you up seven ways to Sunday without touching that wrist. This is not your get-out-of-desensitization card, but good effort.”

Chuckling, Jasper turned from an open cupboard, a black contraption in his hands. “Sorry, little one. I’m in full agreement with Merrick. Unless he’s planning on suspending you from the rafters with that wrist or strapping you up with Shibari, there’s no reason to avoid playtime.”

They both laughed when she thumped her head back against the table and groaned.

Maybe they were both sadists.

Chapter Thirteen

Merrick

Tamsyn was a nervous wreck.

After a quiet lunch in the restaurant—a treat for doing so well with Jasper—where she pushed her food around on the plate, looking withdrawn and haunted, Merrick took her home for an easy afternoon of TV and cuddling.

She fell asleep curled on his lap, her cheek on his heart, and still she wore that haunted expression.

Whatever that fucker, Elder Dinan, had done to her once he’d knocked her out, the trauma ran deep. She might not remember it consciously, but her body had a memory of its own.

It was a niggling worry. Why go to all the trouble of strapping down innocent virgins once a month, sedating them, if raping them wasn’t on the agenda? Evidently, defiling the products was an offense resulting in death; Merrick had no doubts Tamsyn had been a virgin before he got his hands on her.

So the question was,why?

Sodomy? Did the community jackoffs care if their unwilling brides were anal virgins?

Probably. They all sounded like narcissistic, misogynistic pedophiles. Raping young girls and women likely extended to all available orifices. They weren’t going to be too happy if their trusted doctor was plucking cherries that didn’t belong to him, and Merrick assumed the asshole valued his life too much to play roulette with community stock.