We hadn’t done this before, not as lovers. I had my doubts about doing it at all, but she insisted. Her book was nearly finished. She’d been working on it more aggressively in the weeks leading up to her request. Between Livvie’s writing, work, and school schedule, I’d hardly spent any time with her since my birthday. She needed this, she said. She needed to remember how it felt. She needed to recreate it.

I didn’t want her to remember. I didn’t want to remember. Yet, there I was, crop in hand. It was a pull too compelling to resist. I wouldn’t use the belt. I wouldn’t leave the marks I’d left the first time. If Livvie could re-imagine the events of our past, I could too. I could give her pain and pleasure. I could finally let the fading ghost of our past die and rest in peace. It was time for us to go on living.

I tapped her gently on her flank. She jumped.

“I asked you a question. Was excited your first response?”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m… I’m afraid.”

Yes, she was afraid. I’d learned her fear very well. In fact, I consider myself a connoisseur of fear. I know there are as many varieties of fear as there are colors in a rainbow. Livvie was afraid, but it was a brand of fear I very much enjoyed.

“Fear is part of it.” I slapped at her inner thighs gently. I liked the sound it made. “You’re defenseless. You’re vulnerable. You’re completely at my mercy.” I stood behind her, unmoving, and I smelled her fear. True to her word, there was excitement as well. I leaned in and kissed the shell of her ear. “You. Are. Mine. Say it for me.”

She sagged in her bonds. Her head fell on my shoulder and she nuzzled against me.

“I’m yours, Caleb.” I was always Caleb while she was vulnerable. My name on her tongue reminded me of slipping into a worn pair of shoes. I’d been called Caleb most of my life, and were it not for Livvie, the name would be lost to me. Caleb had done horrible things—he’d been a monster—but he’d also allowed James to survive. Caleb deserved to live. I could be both men. I am both men.

I stepped back and took in the sight in front of me piece by piece. Her long mane of ebony hair cascaded down her slender back. I couldn’t wait to hold it as I fucked her. I’d put her in red satin. Every miniscule movement caused the red fabric to shift and offer a different tantalizing bit of skin. The panties were scant. The meaty flesh of her backside appeared plumper by way of the cut. With her legs spread open on the X-shaped cross, I could catch glimpses of her pussy when she tried to adjust. Thick black straps made of leather held her in place at wrists and ankles.

My heart raced at the thought of whipping her. There was the hum of guilt living within me, but my baser urges banged like a drum in my veins. She was mine. She’d given herself to me, and I would take possession of her as surely as she had taken possession of my battered soul. The void in me had been filled by her love and forgiveness. All that she asked was that I give her all I had in me to give: my heart, my soul, my love, my secrets, my loyalty, and my whip hand.

I took her quickly and unaware across the bottom of her ass. Livvie’s scream rent the air. James flinched at the sound, but Caleb’s blood sang. I am both men.

Livvie’s scream died just as suddenly as it had been born. Her lips were pressed together. Her hands were fisted above the leather straps holding her in place. A red stripe decorated her hindquarters.

“Tell me how you feel,” I grated. I ran a hand along her quivering backside. I could already feel the welt.

“I…”Livvie croaked. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to continue?” I already knew the answer. I wanted her to know it too.

“Yes, Caleb.” There was confidence in her voice.

“Anything for you, Pet.” I did show mercy. I caressed her behind with my hand until I felt her muscles relax into my touch. “Let’s start with more familiar ground.” I raised my hand and slammed it forward. I hit one cheek first and then the other in rapid succession. I wanted her nice and warm before I used the crop again.

If Livvie could have moved, she’d have been up on her toes. I’d spanked her harder and not encountered quite so much movement, but it was my belief that restraints often invited slaves to thrash to their hearts’ content. I had to remind myself Livvie had only ever played at the part of slave. She was mine of her own free will.

I stayed my hand from continuing to spank Livvie, but I did not keep it idle. Within seconds, my heated fingers wormed their way beneath the scrap of satin only just concealing her pussy. Her hips pushed back to meet me before she had a thought in her head. I liked that.

“Is that better, Pet? Did you like the spanking?”

She rocked her hips as much as she was able and tried to seat my fingers inside her.

“Yes, Caleb. Please, don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I pushed two fingers inside as far as they would go. I worked them back and forth quickly, delivering both jolts of pleasure and surprise. My dick jerked as Livvie’s unabashed and lascivious yelp met my ears. I watched her hips move back and forth as she found her own pleasure. My sadistic appetite was slowly fed as, little by little, I withdrew my fingers and Livvie’s hips gave chase to catch them. Back, back, back, she canted her hips as much as she was able. I hadn’t given her much slack. She wouldn’t have liked it if I had.

“More, Caleb. Please?” she whined. She treated me to the sight of her wiggling her bottom.

I spanked her once.

“Don’t try to entice me. I’m not near finished with you. You wanted a whipping and I’m determined to give you one.”

There was a sulky whimper preceding her murmured, “Yes, Caleb.” She huffed and rearranged herself in her restraints.

“Always with the saucy mouth, Kitten. Whether you’re using it to spout invective comments or simply petulant sounds, you’re always pushing me toward this—toward punishing you. I always wondered—before—if you craved me like this. Did you?” I lifted the crop and let it land on her ass again. Livvie lurched in her bonds, her lips pressed tightly together so that not even her surprise could break free.

“Answer me, Kitten.” I whipped her again and once more for good measure.

“No! No, Caleb.” There was the slightest stirring of real fear in her voice.

“No? Why now? What’s changed?” I whipped her again, mindful to keep the kiss of the crop across her flanks.

“I don’t know,” she cried. Her body was tight as a drawn bow. She was fighting me and I didn’t know why. I thought perhaps she was only fighting herself.

“Do you remember the first time I whipped you?” I asked. I knew for certain she did. This entire scenario had been constructed based upon that particular memory. The least I could do was assist her in cataloging it properly.

“Yes, Caleb,” she said more quickly.

“I remember too. It all could have gone differently.” I reached around to the front of her body and cupped one of her breasts. I rolled her nipple between my fingers as I spoke. “I would have shown you mercy, of a sort. I knew you were scared. You’d been shocked to learn I was your abductor and not the hero you’d imagined.” I tugged on her nipple. It was a hard little stone between my fingers. “You wouldn’t let me be kind. I would have fed you while you rested your head in my lap. I would have given you as many answers as I could to ease your plight. You could have gone to bed without the marks from my belt. But you fought me. You couldn’t win, and you still fought me.”

“I hated you!” she said. The words caught in her throat. She shut her eyes and tears raced down her cheeks. “I didn’t want your fucking mercy.” The words were difficult to hear, but I knew them to be true and I deserved them.

I leaned forward and collected a salty tear from her cheek.