Page 9 of Savoring Sienna
“The Sapphire Mountains offer the same solitude, if you’re willing to tear yourself away from the ocean.”
“Why would I?” Yet even as he spoke, that persistent whisper of change as he had driven up to Jagger’s house returned. Perhaps this was how he could redirect his path.
“You have an exceptional gift, Crone. When you connect with a sub during an impact session, it transcends simple play, turning into a therapeutic sanctuary.”
Crone shifted. His hand unconsciously reached toward his toy bag. The urge to feel his crocodile leather whip’s familiar weight, and to hear its whisper through air intensified. Derek wasn’t wrong. Something within Crone invariably drew him to submissives trapped in emotional turmoil, bound by their own pain.
“As you know we deal on a large scale with numerous Littles and submissives here,” Derek continued. “Some seek us out, others arrive through circumstance. Some need guidance, acceptance, and someone who can exorcise their demons.”
“How is that my problem?” A sharp bark of laughter escaped him. “Fuck, Derek, I can barely handle my own.”
“You’re stronger than you think and that strength reveals itself in how you handle submissives in your care. I need that skill, Crone. The ability you have to breach defenses through impact play. It requires precision, patience, and a Master knowing exactly how hard to push.”
Crone couldn’t fault Derek’s reasoning. He had always found peace in the hush of leather cutting through the air before it kissed skin, and a sub’s breath hitching just before the strike. He reveled in the slow, sweet unfurling of trust as each carefully placed lash peeled back layers of fear, of doubt, and everything that kept them trapped. Soft at first, gentle, then harder and sharper until a perfect bond was formed. It was during those times when he made that connection that he felt something close to being whole again.
“What exactly are you asking me, Derek?”
“I’m offering you a job. It doesn’t have to be permanent, although it’s what I’d like, but it might just be what you need to start building your own emotional foundation again. You can stay at Rawhide Ranch for as long as you’re here, or if you prefer, there are rental houses available at the employee housing area here or at Rawhide Ridge.”
“What job?” Crone’s pulse quickened traitorously. Maybe this was exactly what he needed to find the final pieces to put himself back together.
“A therapist of sorts, offering specialized whip therapy sessions.” Derek’s wry smile preceded his next words. “There is one condition.”
“I’m listening.” The momentary spark of interest dimmed. He crossed his arms as if bracing himself for the catch.
“I want you to take the first submissive… not just as a patient, but as your permanent sub. She came to us broken. It’s been two years, but she has turned deeper into herself, becoming empty and listless.”
“I’ve been to Rawhide Ranch three or four times a year over the past three years. Why wait until now? For that matter, have I met her before?”
“She generally keeps to herself and very rarely participates in mingling time. She hardly scenes in the public arena, so I doubt you have, but you might have seen her around.” Derek scratched his head. “All traditional and modern methods we’ve tried have failed. I believe it’s reached a point where she needs constant guidance. You, Master Crone, are the perfect fit.”
“What? Two broken souls finding each other through the power of a whip? What is this? The BDSM Never-Never-Land?”
“Just consider it, Crone.” Derek sighed. “Let’s do this. Have a session with her tonight. If there’s a connection, however brittle, but one that you feel could be tapped into… please give it a chance.”
“So, the job hinges on forming a Dom/sub relationship with her?” His fingers traced the scar above his eye absently. “What if we’re incompatible?”
“Then I made a big judgment error.” Derek smiled wryly. “My instincts tell me differently.”
“Very well, who is this broken doll?”
“Sienna Weathers. Thirty-nine-years old, petite, and she carries the scars of severe abuse, both physical and emotional.”
“I guess you’re right then,” Crone’s voice darkened as his fingertips lingered on his scar. “We’ll be a perfect match.” The irony wasn’t lost on him. Two scarred souls… mirror images of damage. “I have my own condition,” he said after a brief consideration of the offer.
“Shoot.” Derek leaned forward.
“I don’t want her to know about this discussion. I’ll have a session with her in the Dungeon tonight. It’ll be my decision whether I’m willing to take the next step with her, and, Derek… I will do it on my terms and at my own pace.”
“Perfect. To be honest, I prefer it that way. Natural progression is more lasting than forced.” Derek’s smile spoke volumes.
Crone realized he had been played. It seemed the Master of Rawhide Ranch had better insight into people than he had realized.
Chapter Five
Rawhide Ranch lounge
Sienna
