tightly. The muscles down the side of his face throbbed. His fist began to cramp.
Twenty. Halfway there. For the first time, Richards paused. He moved away from the spot he’d taken up to the left of the cross.
Axel took half a step forward, thinking that Richards would approach Bayden, but no. Axel silently cursed as he realised what Richards intended.
Richards smirked as he arranged himself to Bayden’s right and moved the cat into his left hand. He brought the whip down hard. Every tail crossed the lines Richards had already placed on Bayden’s back.
Axel stared at Bayden, taking in every detail of his expression and posture. If he hadn’t seen the mess Richards was making of Bayden’s back for himself, it would have been easy to look at Bayden’s face and wonder if the whip was even connecting with his skin.
The control it took for a man to stand there and act like it wasn’t happening was far beyond anything Axel would have expected anyone to be capable of. A glance down Bayden’s body and it was obvious that he wasn’t turned on. He wasn’t the kind of man who could enjoy any kind of whipping—no matter how it was delivered or who was doing the whipping. But, as Axel counted out the lashes, it seemed very possible he was a man who could completely block out what was happening for long enough to take the entire forty lashes.
Axel held his breath as the last few strokes were delivered.
“Forty.” Axel stepped forward as he said it.
Richards lifted the cat to try to sneak an extra blow, but Axel caught the tails mid-way down the length. The ends whipped around and encircled his forearm. Bayden’s blood stained each one. A sharp jerk had the cat out of Richards’s hand.
Dragged off balance, Richards stumbled. “I’m not finished!”
“Yes, you are.” Axel was halfway to Bayden and was about to tell him that he should just stay where he was for a few minutes when Bayden turned away from the cross.
“Was it the whole forty?” No stammer, no slur—each word was enunciated very clearly.
“Yes.”
Bayden turned to Richards. “Did your arm get tired halfway through? You should work on your stamina.”
“I switched arms because it hurts more when you cross the lines!”
Bayden shrugged. If the skin across his back made him want to scream in agony, he showed no sign of it. “If you say so.” His voice remained perfectly steady.
Axel narrowed his gaze. It obviously wasn’t the first time Bayden had played this game. He’d taken whippings on the same basis elsewhere. It might be a stupid game, but it was evidently one that Bayden was very good at.
Even as he stood there, anger at what he’d just witnessed pounding through him, Axel couldn’t help but realise that it was something that anyone who really wanted to receive Bayden’s submission would have to bear in mind. A whipping wouldn’t get Bayden’s attention—different techniques would have to come into play.
“I won,” Bayden pointed out, his tone of voice far more respectful now that he spoke to Axel rather than Richards.
Axel handed his winnings to him.
Bayden looked at the fold of notes then at Richards. “Maybe when you get more practice, you’ll find someone willing to pretend you’re a dom for free.”
Richards stepped forward. Axel snapped back into the here and now and tossed the cat at him. “Get out. Take the other two arseholes with you.”
“What?”
“Out. Now,” Axel snapped. “It’s not a complicated order.”
“You can’t throw me out!”
Axel raised an eyebrow at him. Bayden’s barbs had obviously hit home—Richards usually had more sense than to provoke someone who he knew was capable of beating him senseless. Losing the bet in front of everyone had shaken him. Axel failed to feel the least bit of pity.
“I’m not having any more of this bollocks in my pub.” Axel grabbed Richards’ shirt collar. If he wanted to know if Axel was capable of physically throwing him out, that was fine
Twenty. Halfway there. For the first time, Richards paused. He moved away from the spot he’d taken up to the left of the cross.
Axel took half a step forward, thinking that Richards would approach Bayden, but no. Axel silently cursed as he realised what Richards intended.
Richards smirked as he arranged himself to Bayden’s right and moved the cat into his left hand. He brought the whip down hard. Every tail crossed the lines Richards had already placed on Bayden’s back.
Axel stared at Bayden, taking in every detail of his expression and posture. If he hadn’t seen the mess Richards was making of Bayden’s back for himself, it would have been easy to look at Bayden’s face and wonder if the whip was even connecting with his skin.
The control it took for a man to stand there and act like it wasn’t happening was far beyond anything Axel would have expected anyone to be capable of. A glance down Bayden’s body and it was obvious that he wasn’t turned on. He wasn’t the kind of man who could enjoy any kind of whipping—no matter how it was delivered or who was doing the whipping. But, as Axel counted out the lashes, it seemed very possible he was a man who could completely block out what was happening for long enough to take the entire forty lashes.
Axel held his breath as the last few strokes were delivered.
“Forty.” Axel stepped forward as he said it.
Richards lifted the cat to try to sneak an extra blow, but Axel caught the tails mid-way down the length. The ends whipped around and encircled his forearm. Bayden’s blood stained each one. A sharp jerk had the cat out of Richards’s hand.
Dragged off balance, Richards stumbled. “I’m not finished!”
“Yes, you are.” Axel was halfway to Bayden and was about to tell him that he should just stay where he was for a few minutes when Bayden turned away from the cross.
“Was it the whole forty?” No stammer, no slur—each word was enunciated very clearly.
“Yes.”
Bayden turned to Richards. “Did your arm get tired halfway through? You should work on your stamina.”
“I switched arms because it hurts more when you cross the lines!”
Bayden shrugged. If the skin across his back made him want to scream in agony, he showed no sign of it. “If you say so.” His voice remained perfectly steady.
Axel narrowed his gaze. It obviously wasn’t the first time Bayden had played this game. He’d taken whippings on the same basis elsewhere. It might be a stupid game, but it was evidently one that Bayden was very good at.
Even as he stood there, anger at what he’d just witnessed pounding through him, Axel couldn’t help but realise that it was something that anyone who really wanted to receive Bayden’s submission would have to bear in mind. A whipping wouldn’t get Bayden’s attention—different techniques would have to come into play.
“I won,” Bayden pointed out, his tone of voice far more respectful now that he spoke to Axel rather than Richards.
Axel handed his winnings to him.
Bayden looked at the fold of notes then at Richards. “Maybe when you get more practice, you’ll find someone willing to pretend you’re a dom for free.”
Richards stepped forward. Axel snapped back into the here and now and tossed the cat at him. “Get out. Take the other two arseholes with you.”
“What?”
“Out. Now,” Axel snapped. “It’s not a complicated order.”
“You can’t throw me out!”
Axel raised an eyebrow at him. Bayden’s barbs had obviously hit home—Richards usually had more sense than to provoke someone who he knew was capable of beating him senseless. Losing the bet in front of everyone had shaken him. Axel failed to feel the least bit of pity.
“I’m not having any more of this bollocks in my pub.” Axel grabbed Richards’ shirt collar. If he wanted to know if Axel was capable of physically throwing him out, that was fine
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