Secrets Dispatched by Raven McAllan

before. It took every ounce of determination not to shout, swear and scream at him to stop. With a depth of stubborn determination she hadn’t known she had, Shane spoke out clearly.
    “One, Sir.” Then a second later. “Two, Sir.” By the time she got to ten, she didn’t hear herself or flinch as she waited for the next connection of his hand. No two swats landed on exactly the same place and the stings radiated all over her arse and into her very core. She was beginning to float.
    “Such a beautiful sight, my kitten with a red rosy arse. Can my kitten take two more? This time with my swatter?”
    He held the spatula in front of her face and stroked her cheek with it. It tickled, but Shane was under no illusion that it wouldn’t feel like that if he swatted her arse with it.
    “Are you ready to learn to embrace that as well?”
    Why not?
    “Yes, Sir.” She was beginning to sound like a recording on repeat.
    Ross didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand fall downwards and the spatula disappear. She breathed out as slowly and evenly as she could as he placed the business end of the implement on her arse and held her steady so she didn’t fall over with the force of his stroke.
    It was oh so different. More thuddy, more definite and much more of an impact on her body and mind.
    “Two more, kitten, yes?”
    He could have said ten or one hundred and she would have given the same answer. The floaty feeling was divine. All for her, a sense of well-being and completion, nothing like the pain and horror she’d associated with it at one time.
    “Yes, oh, yes.”
    He chuckled. “I think my kitten has discovered something about herself.”
    She nodded, too involved in her floaty happy sensations to do more. The last two swats were hard, but the pain was pleasure. He was correct.
    The loss of contact as he stood back hit her hard. She moaned.
    “Shhh, kitten, let me cuddle you now.”
    “Fuck me.”
    “Pardon? Do you know what you’re saying?” Ross lifted her off the seat and swung her around to sit on it and face him. She winced at the pressure on her throbbing arse.
    “Of course,” Shane said, stung he’d think otherwise. “I want us to make love. Screw, have it off…” She yawned, giggled and covered her mouth. “I feel drunk.”
    “Subspace, kitten. So a drink and a cuddle first.”
    “‘Kay. ‘S’long as we do.”
     
    Bless her, she’s out of it. Ross looked down at Shane as she gave him a slow smile and closed her eyes.
    “You’re mine, Sir Ross, all mine.” She turned her head into his shoulder and exhaled deeply.
    At least he thought she’d said mine. The words interspersed with yawns and sighs could have easily been something different. Fine? Dine? Wine? It had to, just had to be, ‘mine’.
    “That I am, kitten.” Ross put Shane down on the bed as if she might break. She needed the sleep, and he knew enough about her to accept she’d bounce up and well…insist he kept his word?
    God I hope so . Carefully, he pulled the duvet over her, and grinned as she rolled into the middle of the bed and hugged his pillow to her. As soon as he’d banked the fire, checked anything he might need to pleasure her if the opportunity arose and turned off the lights. Ross slid under the cover next to her. He pried her fingers open and began to drag the pillow away from her.
    “No, he’s mine.” Her voice was determined and she tugged the pillow back toward her chest.
    Ross gave up and used his arm instead.
    Sometime during the night, he woke up to find himself with a dead arm and a furnace on top of him. A squidgy furnace that blew tiny puffs of hot air over his chest. He opened one eye and in the moonlight that streamed through the window saw Shane sprawled all over him and his pillow on top of her. No wonder he was sweating. He heaved the pillow off. Shane muttered something unintelligible and shifted on his chest. The next moment, she nuzzled his