by Mayburn, Ann
“Yes. And he wants you to come to him naked.” Maya gave her a gentle smile. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be there just to make sure you don’t get accidentally hurt. When you’re in the zone you can take some fierce punishment, not even realizing you’ve gone too far. Might as well put my medical degree to some use.”
Normally, Michelle would have laughed and enjoyed talking with Maya, they’d known each other for years and Michelle had even Topped the other woman a time or two, but today her mind was totally focused on the beating. A cleansing punishment that would redeem her sins in pain and blood, leaving her soul clean in the way that only performing an act of true penance could. She would pay for her sins to both Wyatt and Owen’s memory, leaving behind those demons that threatened to tear her apart and giving her the freedom to love Wyatt fully.
Once she’d removed her clothing, a loose fitting skirt and a baggy shirt as well as panties and bra, she followed Maya up the circular black wrought iron stairs to the attic. She paused at the threshold, taking in the scent of leather, sex, and something she could only describe as Petrov. It was as if the man’s very essence had sunk into the exposed timbers of this space and she felt at once comforted and nervous. She could feel her dear friend and trainer watching her from the corner of the room but she wasn’t quite ready to face him yet.
Instead, she wandered around the room, touching the various pieces of BDSM equipment illuminated by the skylight above. Instead of the usual dark and dreary dungeon vibe, this space was light and open, reminding her almost of a yoga studio with its pale wood floors and cream painted walls – if one could look past the far wall that held a variety of whips, floggers, canes, and paddles displayed like one might showcase samurai swords.
She wandered over to that wall, both drawn to it and repulsed by the objects of pain and pleasure. But she didn’t want pleasure, she wanted soul-cleansing burn. The path leading to her happily ever after with Wyatt was paved with her suffering and she was ready to walk it.
She felt Petrov’s energy against her back a moment before he asked, “What do you need?”
He was such a good Dominant, knowing the key to her sinful heart. Not what she wanted, but what she needed.
Right away, she dismissed the whips and floggers, moving past the paddles to finally settle on the canes and the sharp, burning lines of pain they would create on her body, sizzling paths of redemption for her wounded soul, just as they had during the other two beatings he’d given her. The first, after Owen’s death when she’d lost her will to live, and the second after she returned from her first deployment into a combat zone and was suffering terrible guilt from the people who she hadn’t been able to save. Both times she’d been close to slipping into a deep depression, the kind that would have resulted in hospitalization, but the whippings seemed to somehow reset her brain, to tear her from the impenetrable darkness that nearly smothered her. She knew, knew with every beat of her wounded heart, that she needed another reset that would enable her to get on with her life and be the woman Wyatt deserved.
If that meant taking an extraordinary amount of physical pain, she would do it ten thousand times if the end result was that she could love Wyatt without guilt. Part of her mind screamed out a warning that Wyatt would be horrified when he found out what she’d done, but the part of her that was staring at the canes like a junkie looking at a display case full of free drugs didn’t give a shit.
Her fix was here, right here, and she was going to take it.
“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt,” said the chorus girl to the bishop.
With a trembling hand she selected a Governess cane roughly twenty inches long and three-sixteenths of an inch in diameter. It tapered at the point to provide a harsh sting if the Dominant wished. The grip was wrapped in black leather and the cane itself was made of fiberglass. She gave it a few practice flicks, the sound of the cane cutting through the air making her break out into a sweat. She held the implement of her punishment for a long moment, her mind struggling between the natural inclination to avoid pain and her stained soul crying out for its cleansing fire.
You’re doing this for Wyatt, she reminded herself and found the courage to turn and kneel before Petrov, her head down and her arms raised in offering, presenting him with the cane.
“What do you need?” he asked her again.
“I need to be punished, Master.”
“What is it you seek?”
“Forgiveness for my sins.”
“What is your safeword?”
She wanted to say Wyatt because he embodied everything safe and good, but during a beating she would talk, confess her sins, and would probably say his name quite often because she’d sinned against him the most.
“Blue.”
“Maya, prepare her for her punishment.”
With a gentle, but firm touch Maya helped her stand and walk over to the big St. Andrew’s cross in the center of the room. It was made of a pale wood and had a series of straps on each portion for submissives of different heights and sizes. As Maya strapped Michelle’s ankles and wrists to the pale wood she examined deep gouges in its surface where the wood had been clawed by those receiving their pleasure and agony on its hard frame. With a practiced hand Maya gathered Michelle’s hair up and secured it in place, then gave each of her shoulders a gentle kiss.
“Are you ready, darling?”
She nodded, then flinched as Maya stepped back and the high whine of Petrov warming up with the cane rent the air.
For a moment she was transported back in time, to her days at the Catholic junior high she’d attended where she’d learned the real meaning of penance. That particular day she’d been called to the office of the mother superior for starting a fight with one of the other girls. Michelle couldn’t even remember now what the fight had been about, only the result of the other girl breaking down into heartbreaking sobs, leaving Michelle stunned. When she’d learned that the other girl’s father was dying of cancer, and Michelle had insulted him during their fight, she felt terrible. No, beyond terrible. She’d felt ashamed and disgusted with herself, hating that she’d been so cruel.
The mother superior had punished her with a paddling, and as her tears fell, she felt an odd lightening of her shame and self-disgust, as if the more pain she endured the more the burden on her soul lightened.
“Brace yourself,” Petrov said in a low voice and she did, firming her stance and closing her eyes.
The first strike hit her perfectly across her buttocks and she sucked in a harsh breath, tears springing immediately to her eyes. This wasn’t a caning for pleasure, so Petrov didn’t bother warming her up, instead giving her three more strikes, each hurting more than the last. She trembled at the onslaught of the painful sensations, her body urging her to flee, to get away, to run from whatever it was that was harming her. Instead, she gripped the edges of the cross and squeezed her eyes tight.
Another sharp hit, then Petrov said, “Breathe.”
She took in a huge gasp of air, not even realizing that she’d been holding her breath. “Thank you, Sir.”
With the precision of a true Master he worked her thighs over, laying a row of welts that would be perfectly spaced. By the time he reached the sensitive skin where her bottom and thighs met she was crying out, writhing against the wood as she fought the bonds holding her. Mother of God it hurt! So much so that even as part of her embraced the pain another portion of her mind seemed to oddly settle as the dopamine and endorphins flooded into her system, her body’s natural defense against the overwhelming hurt she had chosen to endure.
“Why are you here?” Petrov asked in his low, deep voice, raining a series of light blows along her already abused flesh.
“Penance,” she gasped out.
“Who did you sin against?”
“Wyatt…Owen…” She sobbed as grief filled her, the anguish in her heart more intense than anything her body could ever endure.
“How so?”
Her mind drifted,
hazy and she sagged against her bonds. Petrov made a low, growling sound and particularly harsh blow landed on her ass, a strike so agonizing she screamed as the searing heat of the cane tore through her body, straight to her heart. “I love Wyatt more than I ever loved Owen.”
She went limp again, nothing moving through her thoughts except how much she hurt, how every inch of her thighs and buttocks was one solid mass of white hot agony.
“Why is that a sin, Michelle?”
“I swore…” her mind drifted and she felt disconnected from her words, as if someone else was speaking them. “Swore on his grave I would never love another.”
The next blow caught her unaware and threw her screaming right out of her mind. She drifted on excruciating waves, caught in a strong current of complete and utter surrender. Petrov then began to tap the cane lightly over her thighs. She shuddered, crying out and jerking against her bonds, throwing herself on his mercy despite her mind’s insistence that she stop. Her mind was lost now, all rational thought gone, leaving her as bare and exposed as she could possibly be. But she trusted Petrov completely, and finally allowed herself the gift of letting go.
His harsh voice came from right next to her ear, but she couldn’t open her eyes to look at him, instead sucking in deep breaths tinged with Petrov’s unique scent as she sobbed. “Do you think Owen wants you to be miserable, you stupid girl? He would never, ever want to see you like this. I know, he was like my brother and I loved the little bastard almost as much as I love you. Let him go, Michelle, because Owen is dead and you are still alive.”
“Wish I died,” she sobbed.
“No, you don’t because if you had, you would never have met Wyatt.”
The mention of Wyatt’s name made her scream out in agony, her heart breaking in two. “He’ll hate me.”
“No he won’t, he loves you.”
“Not worthy.”
“Darling, you are worthy of his love.”
Shame collided with her pain, mixing in her stomach until she thought she might puke. She didn’t deserve Wyatt’s love, anyone’s love. “Lied to him.”
Soft and gentle, yet with a core of steel, Petrov demanded her confession. “How did you lie to him?”
She tried to turn her head away, but he gripped her chin and smacked her abused ass at the same time, making her scream. “How did you lie to him, Michelle? Answer me.”
“No, you’ll hate me, hate me so much.”
Another slap, this time to her thighs. The pain nearly made her pass out, it was only his grip on her chin that kept her anchored to this world. “Answer me, now.”
All the training she’d done with him kicked in and she answered like any well-trained submissive would, with the truth. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
Petrov immediately released her chin while Maya gasped from somewhere nearby. A moment later a glass of what she assumed was water was thrown in her face, rousing her from her stupor. As soon as her mind began to work she forced her eyes open and found Petrov staring at her with a mixture of shock and disgust.
“Did you lie to me, Michelle? Does Wyatt really have no idea where you are and what you are doing?”
She tried to hide her face but he grabbed her by her hair, forcing her head back. “Answer me.”
“No…he doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Son of a fucking bitch. Maya, get her down from there. If I touch her right now I’m going to kill her.”
Michelle was barely aware of Maya releasing her and putting a thick robe on her that stung terribly against what had to be welts on the backs of her legs, but nothing hurt as much as her heart and the realization of what she’d done.
Dropping to her knees, she started to crawl to Petrov but halted when he said, “Do not approach me. You no longer have the right.”
She crumpled to the floor, curling into a ball and crying while hugging her knees.
His anger filled the room. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? Do you have any idea what this is going to do to Wyatt? I’m terribly hurt by you using me like this, but that man is going to be devastated. I talked with Yuki, I know about his PTSD issues and this...oh, Michelle do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
The sorrow in his voice whipped her harder than any cane. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I’ll make it right, I swear.”
“How?” His voice came from next to her as he crouched down and gently smoothed her hair off her wet cheeks. The comfort in his touch tore at her and she began to cry so hard she was choking.
A moment later he gathered her into his arms and Maya wrapped herself around Michelle’s other side so she was completely surrounded by them. “Honey, you are your own worst enemy.”
“I just wanted to make it right,” she sobbed. “If I could do my penance I could make it right.”
For a long time they held her until her sobs turned into heaving breaths. When she finally went still Petrov and Maya released her, leaving her staring up at them as they both stood. The couple exchanged a glance and Petrov sighed, pain and disappointment radiating from him tempered by a gentle love that broke her heart.
“You must tell him the truth, Michelle. There is no way he can miss the welts all over your buttocks and thighs. You will be stiff for the next few days, unable to care for yourself. I had thought…I had thought he would be there to tend you, which is why I beat you so hard.”
She could only moan in distress. “He’ll hate me.”
“Yes, he might, but he will hate me more.” Petrov rubbed his face with both hands. “Maya, clean her up and call her a cab. Michelle, you will go to your hotel and you will confess to Wyatt everything that happened here. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, fear sinking it’s talons into her until she was shaking.
“That is your true penance, and I fear it will be far more painful than any beating I could ever give you.”
Chapter 8
Wyatt leaned back into the black suede chair where he’d made love to Michelle the previous night and let out a satisfied sigh. On the table in front of him sat the remains of a huge lunch he’d shared with James who lounged on the burgundy leather couch, his sock-clad feet up on the edge of the table. They were watching a random baseball game as they lazed in the luxury suite. Wyatt couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more relaxed. He felt so good, so satisfied, that he was in danger of falling asleep in the chair. He nudged an empty plate that used to hold chicken wings out of the way with his toes before propping his feet up on the table.
James let out a mellow burp. “Man, it’s nice having another guy to hang out with. Michelle and Yuki would have beat my ass for that belch.”
Laughing, Wyatt stretched and settled deeper into the chair. “Like you wouldn’t enjoy it.”
“That’s true, though Yuki can be rather terrifying if she wants.”
Glancing at the clock on the far wall Wyatt wondered if he had time for a nap before Michelle returned. “What time do you think Michelle will be back from her spa appointment?”
“It could be hours.”
“What the hell would they do at a spa that could take all day? She’s already been gone close to five hours.”
James snorted. “I have no idea. I just know that when Yuki comes back from the spa she’s all smooth, glowing, and totally relaxed. Maybe Michelle is getting her pussy waxed.”
Saliva immediately filled Wyatt’s mouth at the thought of licking her smooth flesh. “You think?”
Before James could reply the door opened and Wyatt couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing for a moment.
Michelle entered the room and she looked terrible.
“What the fuck?” He surged to his feet as she took a stiff step into the room.
When their gazes met, the despair and the abysmal pain he read in her eyes sent him into a panic. “Michelle, what happened? Are you hurt? Are your parents okay?”
She held up her hand and a visible shudder worked its way through her body. “Wyatt,
wait. I need you to listen to me, okay?”
He started for her again and she backed up rapidly, bumping into the wall and letting out a pain filled cry. “No, stay there!”
James joined him and the men exchanged a worried look. “Michelle, what’s going on?”
Her lower lip trembled and she whispered, “I went to see Petrov.”
Not comprehending what she was saying, Wyatt took a hesitant step forward. “Michelle, did he hurt you?”
“I asked him to, Wyatt. Begged him.” She broke down in tears while James started swearing up a storm.
Before he was even aware of it Wyatt had her in his arms, but quickly released her as she screamed and stepped away, clutching at her butt. Anger blossomed into rage and obliterated everything. He tore her jacket from her, revealing a loose skirt and blouse. He spun her around, and at the sight of the welts and bruises on her thighs and buttocks, he dropped to his knees.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
She painfully knelt before him, but was crying too hard to talk.
From behind him, James said in a dead voice, “Michelle, did you go to Petrov for a beating?”
Wyatt waited for Michelle to deny it, to say that she hadn’t let that man who used to be her Master hurt her, but all she did was nod and Wyatt’s heart shattered.
He stood and staggered back, feeling physically ill as he realized what she had done. “You fucking lied to me!”
She flinched and curled into herself. “I’m so sorry, Wyatt.”
Furious didn’t even begin to describe his emotional state. What he was feeling was beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. He was so mad and hurt, he wondered vaguely if he was having a heart attack. That would explain the pain tearing him apart as he stared at the woman who’d betrayed him. If she went to Petrov for a beating that probably meant she’d had sex with the man as well. Sex and BDSM went hand-in-hand for Michelle and her unfaithfulness destroyed him.
But he wouldn’t, could never hurt her, so he had to find another outlet for his fury.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
