“Yes, it…helps us to grade how much pain relief they need. Tells us the severity of the problem.”

The pressure from Zeth’s toy vanishes. “We’ll use your system today, Sloane. When I ask you, you give me a number.”

“Okay.” For some reason, I feel a little reassured by this. I probably shouldn’t, but I do.

I’m relaxing into the situation a little when a bright sting of pain bites into the flesh of my buttocks. It’s the surprise that gets me, more than the pain. I yelp, almost hopping up from my position.

“Stay still, angry girl,” Zeth tells me. “Now. One to ten. What was that? Really think about it.”

I take a second to do just that. “Three,” I say. “It was a three.” I can’t feel the burn of it anymore, so I can’t legitimately grade it higher. Zeth will know I’m lying in order make him go easier on me, and I get the feeling that will have entirely the reverse effect.

“Good girl, Sloane. That was a three.” I barely dare breathe as he paces around me. I jump when the cane—it can only be a cane—makes contact with my chest. Zeth strokes the length of wood underneath me, across my breasts, making my nipples throb. “You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking beautiful,” he tells me. “Breathe, Sloane. You have to remember to breathe.”

I inhale, drawing a steady pull of oxygen into my lungs, and that’s when the second strike lands. Across my butt again; this time the force is harder. More intense. “Fuck!”

Zeth laughs quietly. I can imagine the look in his eyes—the amusement dancing there as he watches me squirm. “Such a foul mouth on you, angry girl. How would you grade that?”

“Six,” I say, panting, doing my best to keep still. I want to touch my fingers to the tender area where he caned me—it feels as though there’ll be a raised welt there, angry and red to look at if I could see it in a mirror.

“Now, now, that was only a five. Take a deep breath. Fill your lungs, relax your body, and then tell me again. How would you grade that?”

I do take a deep breath. I do relax my body. And he’s right. “All right. Five.”

Zeth kisses me, pressing his lips against my shoulder. He’s standing behind me, but not for long. He moves so he’s in front of me. I’m almost ready for it this time when he touches the end of the cane to my skin. Instead of using it to dole out pain, he traces the tip over my stomach and then down, until it rests between my legs. The hard inflexibility of the length of wood slides over my pussy, between the folds of flesh, probing me, searching out the sweet spot. It doesn’t take long to find it. Just like with the knife, there’s something thrilling about an object that can cause me great pain being used to bring pleasure instead. My whole body hums as Zeth slides the end of the cane repeatedly up and over my pussy, occasionally applying pressure, but mostly just teasing me with it so I can barely keep my arms and legs from shaking. I groan, trying not to let myself rock my hips against it.

I can sense when Zeth figures I’ve had enough pleasure. Seconds after I realize it’s probably coming soon, the cane makes a zipping sound as it rips through the air. A burst of pain explodes in my head as the wood connects with the back of my thighs, just below the curve of my ass cheek.

“Ahhh! Shhhh…” I bite back the curse word begging to be screamed out loud, digging my fingers into the pile of the carpet.

“How about that?” Zeth whispers into my ear. His breath on the skin of my neck sends a wave of heat rippling over my skin.

I want to say seven. I want to say seven so bad, but I don’t. “Six,” I pant.

Zeth makes a grunting sound—the sound of his approval. He runs his fingertips down my cheek, down my neck, over my shoulder and down my back as he walks around me. “Open your legs wider for me, Sloane.”

I wince as I place my knees farther apart, doing as he asks. I can’t fight the powerful urge to push back against him as Zeth sinks to his knees and presses himself between my legs. He’s so hard. So hard, pushing his cock forward so it’s rubbing against my clit. He curves himself over me and begins to kiss my back, one vertebra at a time.

“Oh, god. Fuck.” I want him to slide himself into me. I want to feel him inside me as deep as he can go, filling me, stretching me, owning me, but instead Zeth pulls back and uses the cane again. A seven. This time it’s a seven.

“Ahhh! Zeth! Motherffff—” It’s getting harder to choke back the cursing. It feels like I’m winded. Like I’ve fallen on my ass and it’s knocked every last bit of oxygen out of me.

“Eight? Or seven?” Zeth asks. I can hear the labored twist in his own voice, like he’s short of breath himself.

“Seven. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I half laugh, my body still quivering.

“Oh, good god, girl. You have no idea how much.” He leans forward so his cock is pressing urgently against my pussy again, but now he wraps his arm around my body, reaching for my clit. “Are you not enjoying it, Sloane? Because it feels to me as though you might be.”

He’s right. This may be totally outside my comfort zone, but the anticipation of the pain, followed by the reality of it, is driving me crazy. And the burn…the burn is so fucking beautiful. Each time the cane lashes into my skin, I’m practically torn in two trying to escape it, and trying to lean into it at the same time.

“I—I—”