Chapter 3
Dylan laid the leather across Isabel’s bare stomach in one quick motion, leaving a red streak on her supple, pale skin. She was dressed in only tight-fitting, waist-high shorts and a satin bra, and he was stripped down to his black slacks and barefoot. The setting was intimate with only a handful of onlookers in the small niche. Nina Simone, Sinner Man, played softly while Dylan moved in rhythm to the beat.
Sawyer was mesmerized by the way Dylan’s eyes were trained on Isabel as he moved around her stealthily, all the while power and dominance exuding from every pore as he took control of her.
Sawyer had feared he wouldn’t be able to stomach the scene, but it was proving hard to look away from. No, he still didn’t like the idea of causing someone as beautiful as Isabel pain, but just because it wasn’t his kink, he wasn’t going to judge someone else on their preferences.
Isabel’s amber eyes fluttered open and closed, and her tongue slicked across her mouth causing an obvious erection on Dylan’s part. Her body swung hypnotically from the suspension rig, the chains jangling noisily. As Sawyer’s probing brown eyes took in the details of her body, unwanted lascivious thoughts popped into his head, filling him with guilt. He never felt a physical attraction toward Isabel, but seeing her so compliant and captivatingly submissive stirred his sexual desires. He looked away, trying to contain his unwanted physical reaction.
“I’m neither a masochist nor a sadist, Mr. Morrison, but I try to keep an open mind with regards to all things sexual. May I politely suggest that you do the same?” Sarah whispered into his ear.
Focusing on her, his mouth formed into a tight smile. “It’s not that I’m being closed-minded. It’s just that I’m feeling…” he stopped himself.
She squeezed his bicep as she continued to lean into his ear, her breath felt on his cheek.
“Oh, I see. It’s normal to feel aroused. It’s a natural response to what you’re seeing and just shows you have a healthy libido and imagination.”
Her electrical touch took his mind off of Isabel and he was thankful for it. Feeling better after Sarah’s reassurance, he turned to watch the scene again. He watched as Dylan circled around Isabel, flicking the whip across various parts of her body as she squealed out her approval and pulled against her restraints. Sawyer just didn’t get it. Why would someone want to be hurt in such a way or cause pain to someone you love?
Dylan’s wild eyes suddenly darted to Sawyer and he motioned for him. It was a complete what the fuck moment for him and his body froze. Dylan’s eyes moved to Sarah and he nodded, prompting her to take Sawyer’s hand and guide him to the center stage.
“You’re up, Sawyer,” Dylan stated.
A knot rose in his throat and he shook his head adamantly. He didn’t want any part of harming Isabel, regardless if it was something that she got off on. He backed away and put his hand up. “Don’t ask me to hurt Isabel. I won’t do that. I can’t.”
Isabel’s feminine voice resonated over the music. “It’s okay, Sawyer. Dylan won’t let you hurt me beyond what I can handle. I trust you implicitly, as does Dylan,” she panted out, still winded from Dylan’s whipping.
Maybe Isabel trusted him, but Sawyer wasn’t sure he trusted himself. What if he liked it? What if hurting a woman appealed to him?
“Try to forget all the social norms you’ve been spoon fed, Sawyer. Push all the things you’ve been told about sadism out of your head and the stigma associated with it, and go with what you feel. You’ll never know if this is something you like or not unless you try it,” he spoke firmly. “Watch me. Like this: relax your wrist and pace your movements slowly.” He demonstrated what he had done before and lightly snapped the cat-o-nine tails on Isabel’s glistening right thigh. “Your motions should be smooth and fluid; the weapon a part of you; like the talons on an eagle. You can do it, Morrison, and don’t worry; neither I nor Isa will be offended if you’re turned on.”
Dylan’s prompt and statement caused Sawyer’s defenses to slowly subside. Hesitantly taking the whip in his left hand, his palms became clammy and a trickle of sweat ran down between his shoulder blades. He couldn’t believe he was really going through with it. Dylan stood back, giving him room to wield the calfskin. Closing his eyes, he drew in a long steady breath through his nose and blew it out his mouth. Just focus, Morrison, he repeated to himself.
Bringing up the cat midair he paused, his eyes taking note of the light sheen of sweat that had built up on Isabel’s petite form, but finally snapped the end of the leather across her stomach lightly; so light there was no reaction on Isabel’s part. Even though it had barely touched her, something about what he was doing just didn’t feel right. He did it three more times over her thighs just to make sure he wasn’t being too quick to call judgment, but the same feeling was there, or lack thereof. Sure he felt in control, but there was no excitement in what he was doing and no sexual arousal. The only thing he felt was that it wasn’t for him. But the way Isabel was responding, Sawyer became aware that it wasn’t only about his needs, but hers.
He moved behind her and as he slowly became more comfortable with the whip, he stroked her body at a more rapid pace until Isabel’s moans became louder. When he sensed that Isabel was near orgasm, he looked to Dylan who promptly came over and fingered her to release. When everything was said and done, he dropped the whip to the floor with a resounding thud and a prevailing sense of relief filled him.
Turning to face Dylan, he let out a loud sigh of relief and spoke. “Thanks for the invite, but that,” he gestured with his head to the cat lying on the floor, “is not for me.”
Dylan smiled knowingly as he unshackled Isabel and cradled her in his arm. “So you’re not a sadist. I guessed as much. Even still, Isa thanks you for going through with it. Isn’t that right, pussycat? Now be a good girl and thank Sawyer.”
Isa was still in her subspace high, her body shivering as she turned to face Sawyer, instantly doing as her Master had asked.
“Thank you, Sawyer,” her voice shook and her teeth chattered.
Dylan carried Isabel away, murmuring his praises in her ear while Sawyer began to pace the floor, stunned with everything that had played out. If Young assumed he wasn’t a sadist, then why the hell did he insist he whip Isabel? Was this some sort of fucked up test of his resolve?
While Dylan delivered aftercare to Isa, he became more irate with every passing minute. When Dylan finally approached, Sawyer huffed, “If you suspected I was no sadist, why the hell did you make me do that?”
“Because now you know for yourself and you’ll never wonder again.”
God, Sawyer hated when Dylan was right. He was so damned smug about it, too. He shook his head and his mouth ruffled into a sarcastic grin. Typical, fucking, Young.
Back at his condo, Sawyer showered and made himself dinner. The afternoon had been more stimulating than he had expected and his earlier reluctance now seemed completely unwarranted. Sarah’s luminous eyes flashed in his mind. She had the most seductive shade of blue he had ever seen, like a blue flame sky. Perhaps it was just the club setting, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. His cock began to harden as his mind wandered to all the things he wanted to do while staring into those eyes. Suddenly the flame of desire was doused by guilt.
Tired of thinking of Sonya and the what if’s, he picked up his phone and dialed her number. He hadn’t spoken with her in nearly a month, but he needed to tell her everything that had happened.
“Sawyer,” she answered.
“Lady Sonya, how are you?”