Page 227 of Dark Duet: Platinum Edition

There was a sulky whimper preceding her murmured, “Yes, Caleb.” She huffed and rearranged herself in her restraints.

“Always with the saucy mouth, Kitten. Whether you’re using it to spout invective comments or simply petulant sounds, you’re always pushing me toward this—toward punishing you. I always wondered—before—if you craved me like this. Did you?” I lifted the crop and let it land on her ass again. Livvie lurched in her bonds, her lips pressed tightly together so that not even her surprise could break free.

“Answer me, Kitten.” I whipped her again and once more for good measure.

“No! No, Caleb.” There was the slightest stirring of real fear in her voice.

“No? Why now? What’s changed?” I whipped her again, mindful to keep the kiss of the crop across her flanks.

“I don’t know,” she cried. Her body was tight as a drawn bow. She was fighting me and I didn’t know why. I thought perhaps she was only fighting herself.

“Do you remember the first time I whipped you?” I asked. I knew for certain she did. This entire scenario had been constructed based upon that particular memory. The least I could do was assist her in cataloging it properly.

“Yes, Caleb,” she said more quickly.

“I remember too. It all could have gone differently.” I reached around to the front of her body and cupped one of her breasts. I rolled her nipple between my fingers as I spoke. “I would have shown you mercy, of a sort. I knew you were scared. You’d been shocked to learn I was your abductor and not the hero you’d imagined.” I tugged on her nipple. It was a hard little stone between my fingers. “You wouldn’t let me be kind. I would have fed you while you rested your head in my lap. I would have given you as many answers as I could to ease your plight. You could have gone to bed without the marks from my belt. But you fought me. You couldn’t win, and you still fought me.”

“I hated you!” she said. The words caught in her throat. She shut her eyes and tears raced down her cheeks. “I didn’t want your fucking mercy.” The words were difficult to hear, but I knew them to be true and I deserved them.

I leaned forward and collected a salty tear from her cheek.

“Don’t be sad, Kitten. You were right to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you anymore, Caleb. Please believe me. I don’t hate you.” More tears spilled down her cheek.

I stroked her hair. I kissed her salty cheek.

“I know, Pet. We’ve come a long way from there. Yet, here we are. You’re still asking me to punish you. Why?” I struck her several times. With each loud slap her resolve crumbled a little more. I pushed her. I pushed myself. I wanted her to understand there had only ever been one reason to return to this.

Livvie was sobbing.

“I… I like it.”

“Yes,” I said. I placed my hand between her legs and stroked her wet folds. “You do. So why are you still fighting me?”

“I don’t mean to!” Her chest shook with the force of her crying.

“I think you do. I think you believe I want you to—but I don’t, Kitten. You don’t have to provoke me. You’re no longer my captive.” I touched her clit. My fingertip glided easily through her slick folds. I whipped her across her other thigh with the crop.

Livvie screamed but settled quickly.

“I’m sorry, Caleb. Please forgive me.”

Begging… I’m always a sucker for the begging when it suits my own desires.

“You’re forgiven. Don’t do it again.”

She took several deep breaths.

“Yes, Caleb.” She moaned loudly when I bit her shoulder. “God! The things you do to me…” Her breath shuddered from her chest. “No one else makes me feel this way. You hurt me so much—before. But you always made it better. You’re the only one who makes it better. I don’t want it to stop.”

“Better than whom, Pet?” I dropped the crop and palmed her ass as I continued making circles on her clit. Livvie had found a taste for pain, but I knew the best way to get her to talk was to bring her as close to the edge of orgasm as possible.

“Everyone,” she whispered. Her eyes were closed, but I could see the tears still leaking from her eyes. Her hips were moving again, finding a rhythm to match my touches. “You take care of me. No one’s taken care of me like you.”

A weight pressed on my chest.

“I’d take care of you without this.”