Page 40 of Savoring Sienna
He pressed his forehead to hers, sharing a breath. “This isn’t just desire or need. I’m forty-four years old, Sienna. I’ve known love and loss, suffered and felt pain that would break most men. When you’ve walked through fire, you learn to recognize truth from illusion. And you… you are my truth.”
Tears flowed freely now, each word striking chords she thought were silenced forever. “Crone…” Her voice cracked on his name. “You have no idea what it means to me…. That you could love me, accept all my broken pieces and scars…” She drew a shuddering breath. “But I can’t... my heart doesn’t... God, I trust you completely as my Dom, but love?” Fresh pain laced through her words. “That part of me is dead. I don’t know how to love anymore, how to trust what you’re offering.”
His eyes softened as he wiped away her tears. “I know, love, and I didn’t expect a return declaration of love, but I need you to know how I feel, and that I have full trust and confidence that one day, you will allow your heart the freedom to choose to love again.”
Sienna’s lips parted, but emotion closed her throat. She watched him through tear-blurred eyes as her heart sang a wild symphony of conflicting melodies. Joy soared through her veins.Pure, unexpected joy that this extraordinary man had chosen her and had opened his scarred heart to love her. Yet beneath that soaring tune played a darker refrain of heartache, knowing she couldn’t mirror his gift. The music inside her twisted and meshed, beautiful and painful all at once.
When he turned away, her fingers tightened reflexively on the smooth bark in an effort to anchor her to this moment. The mountain air carried the sharp scent of pine as she watched Crone select a switch from a young tree. She followed his movements as he stripped away leaves and branches with practiced grace, preparing the instrument of her punishment. Each deliberate motion sent shivers of anticipation down her spine.
Every instinct screamed at her to flee. Her muscles coiled, ready to sprint as if remembering other punishments and indescribable pain. The ropes lay loose around her wrists and ankles, offering an easy escape. One step would free her. One step would protect her.
But deeper than fear, stronger than memory, her submission held her steady. This wasn’t just about punishment or pain. Crone had set it up perfectly. An invitation revolving around trust, about proving herself worthy of the gift he’d given. Her heart might be too damaged to love, but her soul recognized its Master. She drew herself up and straightened her shoulders.
I’m ready to accept whatever is going to happen. I will not fail him again. She had disappointed him once today in her jealous rage. She would not compound that failure by running from his justice.
The switch whispered through the air as he tested its flexibility. Sienna closed her eyes, surrendering to whatever he deemed necessary. She might not be able to give him love, but she was ready to offer him this—her absolute trust, completesubmission, and unwavering faith in his protection. For now, that was all her lost soul had to give.
Crone
Glamping camp site, Sapphire Mountains, Rawhide Ranch
The switch was perfect—green, supple, still damp with sap—picked from a willow at the edge of the clearing. Crone tested its balance, letting the thin branch whisper through the air like a promise. Sienna flinched at the sound, her shoulders hitching toward her ears before she caught herself.
Good. She’s learning.
“Relax, Sienna.” He kept his voice low and rough with restraint but stern as he offered immediate correction. “Don’t tense when you hear the sound. Lean into it. Fighting the stroke will only make it bite deeper.” He watched as she consciously unclenched her jaw, rolled her shoulders back although her fingers remained white-knuckled around the bark of the tree. “That’s my good girl. Stay present with me. Eyes on me, always. This isn’t about the past. This is us.”
The first strike hissed through the air before snapping across the fullest part of her ass—a clean, crimson line blooming instantly against her pale skin. She jerked, a sharp wheeze tearing from her throat as her body instinctively tried to twist away. Crone didn’t move, allowing her to feel the sting, the heat, and the force of what she’d earned.
“Breathe,” he commanded, and she obeyed, her exhale shaky but controlled. Only then did he deliver the next.
The switching was merciless in its precision—each stroke was measured, and placement intentional. He didn’t rush or lose himself in the rhythm. This was discipline, not cruelty, and he would not let her mistake one for the other.
The second strike landed just below the first, parallel, perfectly aligned. Her whimper was higher this time, her knees turned to the inside, pressing her thighs together as if she could contain the pain. He waited for the fire to spread before he spoke again.
“Why are you being punished, Sienna?”
A third stroke landed across the backs of her thighs, where the skin was thinner and more sensitive.
“Fuuuck!” she screamed as her knees buckled. With a moan she forced them back into position.
“I—I disrespected you!” Her voice was thick with tears, but she didn’t look away.Good girl. “I interrupted a therapy session.”
“And?” The switch whipped again, this time diagonally across her back, the tip licking the side of her breast. She screamed, her fingers clawing at the tree, her body arching as if she could escape the pain.
“I—I questioned your integrity!” The words tumbled out between sobs. “Your commitment to our exclusivity!”
Crone circled her, admiring the lattice of welts rising on her skin—art, really, the way they crisscrossed her flesh. Her breasts were next, the switch kissing the undersides, the sensitive curves where pain would bloom brightest. Each strike drew a fresh moan as her pleas grew more desperate.
“Please—please—I’m sorry! I was wrong, so wrong!” Her tears streamed over her cheeks as her chest heaved with every desperate breath she drew. “I promise, Master Crone, I’ll never disrespect or doubt you again!”
He dropped the switch and it landed with a soft thud on the forest floor. In one fluid motion, he gathered her hair in his fist, tilting her face to meet his gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed, swollen, and her lips parted as she struggled for air.Beautiful.
“Look at you,” he murmured as he brushed away her tears. “Taking your punishment so well. So brave.” He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “But more than that… you stayed.”
A tremulous smile curved her lips as she replied in a softly broken voice, “Of course I stayed, Master Crone. I trust you.” Her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to reach for him. “It hurts like the bejesus, but I know you’ll never intentionally harm me.”
Her words hung in the air like smoke—thick and impossible to ignore. He exhaled slowly as he moved his hand to circle her throat, squeezing in a gentle claiming that was as much a reminder as a silent promise. She didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, she leaned into it, her pulse fluttering wildly against his palm.
