Page 37 of Savoring Sienna
“Miss Hoppy is a good name.” He released her chin and stepped back. “I want you to keep your eyes open, Sammy. Watch me in the mirror in front of you. Remember, it’s me, Master Crone.”
The first whisper of leather against skin drew a whimper from Sammy. Crone kept the strokes featherlight, a dance of air and leather across her shoulders.
“Feel the rhythm, little one. Let it wash over you. Imagine the drops of summer rain.” His voice remained steady and hypnotic. “Each stroke washes away his poison.”
The whip sang through the air, never breaking contact. Sammy’s grip on Miss Hoppy tightened with each pass, until eventually her breathing slowly steadied.
“That’s it, little one. You’re safe here.” Crone stepped closer, his free hand ghosting over her spine. “He has no power in this space. This moment belongs to you.”
A sob caught in her throat. “I can still feel him... his constant anger…”
“Then let’s replace it.” The whip’s tempo increased slightly, still gentle but more present. “Feel my controlled strength instead. Not to harm, but to heal.”
With each stroke, each careful touch, Sammy’s rigid posture began to soften. Her death grip on Miss Hoppy eased. WhenCrone increased the intensity, her initial flinch melted into a shuddering sigh.
“Good girl,” he murmured, noting how she now leaned into the strikes. “Your body remembers what trust feels like. Let it teach your heart to release the fear.”
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but her eyes in the mirror held a spark of hope replacing the haunted shadows.
“Tell me how you feel, little one,” his low voice deepened with understanding.
“I... I feel light,” she whispered as he stood close, his fingers gently circling her throat. “Like big fluffy clouds.”
Crone delivered a final series of strikes, carefully placed to warm rather than wound. Sammy’s soft moan carried no fear, only release.
“You’ve done beautifully.” He lowered the whip and moved to unbuckle her restraints. “This is just the beginning of your journey, now it’s time to continue on the path to a brighter new future.”
Crone gathered her into his arms. Her slight frame was barely a weight against his chest. She curled into him with Miss Hoppy crushed between them as he carried her to the leather sofa.
“Easy now, little one.” He settled her across his lap with one hand stroking her hair while the other pulled a soft blanket around her shoulders. “Let yourself drift and remember the peace you found with my whip. You’re safe here.”
Sammy’s breathing evened out as the endorphins took hold. Her grip on Miss Hoppy loosened, though she kept the bunny close to her heart.
When Dr. Catherine approached, her professional warmth wrapped around them like another blanket. “It’s the first time I’ve witnessed a session of yours, Master Crone, and I am beyondbreathless. It’s not only amazing to watch, but also a revelation in how experience becomes therapy.”
“I have an advantage, Catherine,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ve had my share of despair.”
“I’ll take care of her now, Master Crone.” Catherine’s voice softened. “You’ve done excellent work breaking through her barriers.”
Crone was easing Sammy into Catherine’s care when Sienna’s voice unexpectedly cracked through the otherwise empty Dungeon’s peace.
“So, this is where you’ve been?” The words dripped venom. “I’ve waited at the barn for over an hour while you’ve been here... touchingher?”
Crone turned slowly, reading the storm in Sienna’s stance. Her chest heaved and her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Beneath her anger lurked a shadow of fear he filed away for later examination.
“Or did you forget we’re supposed to go camping? I guess you did since you had more... important things to do.” Her voice climbed higher with each word. “More important people to hold and comfort!”
Master Derek, who had just arrived, took a sharp breath that matched Crone’s own rising anger. This wasn’t just about him. She was disrupting another sub’s aftercare and broke multiple protocols of respect.
Yet part of him thrilled at this first display of possessiveness, this crack in her careful walls. She was finally showing him something real, possessive jealousy, even if it came wrapped in defiance.
“Enough.”
The single word sliced through her tirade with lethal precision, its quiet menace freezing her mid-breath. In that controlled syllable lay every ounce of his Dom authority, soakedwith the promise of consequence. Understanding dawned in her eyes as she registered what she had done, where she was, and who had witnessed her outburst.
She stepped back and assumed the position that had become second nature with her hands clasped behind her back, legs spread, and eyes downcast.
“I’m sorry, Master Crone.” Her voice broke with unshed tears.
