Magpie (23 page)

Everet met the hawk’s eyes once more. Raynard understood what it was like for a natural dom to have to put himself in a position of weakness. Perhaps being in love with a swan wasn’t the same as taking a whipping, but, yes, Everet had no doubt that Raynard understood what he was going through.

He’d never been more grateful that Raynard had stepped forward and volunteered to administer the punishment on behalf of the nest.

“Thank you, sir.” He could only hope Raynard knew how sincerely he meant that.

Everet turned away from Raynard. He kept his chin up and his shoulders back as he approached the whipping post. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and he’d be damned before he’d act like he had any reason to blush before men who’d turned up just to see a punishment-whipping—as if it were a novel form of entertainment.

Everet knew there were more than a few avians who weren’t thrilled that he seemed to be a favorite of two high-ranking elders. He had no doubt they’d all love being able to witness what had to look like a spectacular tumble from grace.

He arranged himself in front of the post as quickly and efficiently as possible. Reaching up, he caught hold of the metal ring set at the top of the thick wooden support without hesitating for even a fraction of a second.

He didn’t need to keep his head up and watch over Kane while the whipping took place. His last concern had been allayed. Everet allowed himself to rest his forehead against the wood and close his eyes. No one would know if his mask slipped as the whip fell. That was good to know, too.

The whole room suddenly fell silent. It seemed to Everet that even the gossips’ lips stopped babbling. After all, what would they have to talk about tomorrow if they missed some important detail tonight?

His muscles tensed as he waited for the first lash to fall against his skin. Raynard didn’t make him stand there and suffer as expectation built up. Only a few seconds passed before the leather snapped against his skin. A line of fire roared into existence across his shoulders, from one side of his body to the other.

Everet gasped. It was nothing like he’d expected. The only thing he’d experienced before was during an experiment he conducted with a few other ravens, so that they would, in theory at least, know how it felt, just in case they were ever called upon to whip a man as punishment. In that moment, Everet realized that the experiment had failed. None of its conclusions were in any way valid.

That sensation and this were as far apart as a single match being struck against the sole of a shoe, and the result of that match being applied to a forest full of dry kindling.

Clenching his teeth, Everet kept his curses to himself.

There was a point behind this, and it was one that was worth making, whatever the cost.

Find whatever mental place you need to go to as quickly as you can, and stay there.
Raynard had given him good advice. But there was no pleasant beach scene for Everet to call to mind. He couldn’t imagine that he flew high above the nest, unconcerned with anything that happened beneath him.

There was only one thing Everet was able to think about. His mind needed to be on Kane—on how to be a better master for him. He needed to focus upon his duties to his submissive.

The whip struck Everet’s back again. This time there was no gasp. Everet didn’t have any breath left in his lungs to escape.

He pulled air into his body the moment the whip left him, but that was just survival instinct. His mind was entirely focused upon what Kane needed him to do differently in future.

Another blow fell.

Everet needed to make sure he took time to stretch his wings, so he could make the right decisions for Kane.

Raynard had a rhythm established now. Pain spiked inside Everet at regular intervals.

He needed to make sure he explained exactly what he expected from Kane, so that the rules were simple and clear.

Again and again, the whip fell. Everet made no attempt to count the lashes. That was Raynard’s job, not his. Everet’s job was to take his pain and use it to make his resolution to be a better master stronger than ever.

He didn’t try to fight the pain. He welcomed it, hailing anything that enabled him to be a better dominant, as a gift to cherish. His back burned, making it harder for him to think clearly. Everet pressed his forehead hard against the whipping pole. His grip on the metal loop tightened until his fingers cramped around it.

His mind welcomed the whip. His body didn’t. His body hated it and everything it represented. A little part of Everet had always wondered if he might like pain the way some of his previous lovers had, if it were to be properly applied by a man who knew what he was doing.

Now, Everet knew for sure, and he didn’t find it the least bit erotic. His cock remained soft. It was only bloody mindedness that kept him standing there. It was only his need to become a better master, a better man for Kane, that stopped him spinning away and launching himself at Raynard to try and wrestle the whip from him.

Kane.

The image of the other man rose up in Everet’s mind.
Kane as he had first seen him, huddled in a pathetic little ball in the back room of a human club.

As another lash of pain exploded inside him, the image changed.
Kane standing in the middle of the living room, his arms folded, his expression mutinous.

Every fall of Raynard’s whip brought another picture of Kane to Everet. Kane was his, and Everet had never been more determined to do right by him.

Kane closed his eyes tighter than ever as yet another crack of the whip filled the air. The twenty lashes seemed to go on forever, echoing around inside his head until he was sure it had to have been at least the hundredth time the leather connected with Everet’s back. He desperately wanted to lift his hands and cover his ears, but he couldn’t. He stood frozen in place. He couldn’t even turn and run away.

It probably wouldn’t have helped, even if he’d been able to sprint out of the room, out of the nest, out of this whole screwed up world. The sight of the whip landing on Everet’s back for the first time had burned itself into his retinas, he’d never be able to un-see it. And he’d never be able to un-hear the sickening sound of flesh trapped under the whip.

The breath caught in Kane’s throat. He’d received plenty of beatings, but they were different. Those times had been filled with anger and fueled with alcohol. It had been about some guy catching hold of him as quickly as he could and raining down blows until his arm got tired or he needed another drink.

Anyone standing around when Kane had fallen foul of a punter’s temper had either cheered or joined in with a sadistic level of enthusiasm. Kane had thought those nights had been bad, but this…

The room was filled with avians who seemed to have turned up just to watch Everet get whipped. And now, they just stood there, impartial observers. The only sound was the crack of the whip. The cold clinical nature of the punishment somehow made it far worse. The nest wasn’t lashing out at Everet in drunken fury. It wasn’t acting before it thought things through.

Without needing to open his eyes, Kane knew that Raynard wasn’t getting off on hurting Everet. He was just going through the motions, doing a job that he might consider distasteful, but which nevertheless needed to be done.

And Everet…

Kane managed to make a few muscles escape the icy stillness that filled his veins. His hand curled into a fist at his side. His teeth cut into his bottom lip. He whimpered, but another crack of the whip made it impossible for him to open his eyes. He couldn’t watch Everet get whipped because of him, he just couldn’t…

In that moment, no piece of sparkly treasure was worth this.

A small, selfish part of Kane knew that, just because he wasn’t the one getting whipped, didn’t mean the punishment wouldn’t hurt him in the long run. What if Everet decided he was too much trouble and he wanted to trade him in for a submissive who didn’t have Kane’s skill at pick-pocketing? What if Everet gave up on him? What if he didn’t want to screw him anymore? What would happen to him then?

But that wasn’t the only reason why Everet should never get hurt. Hurting Everet was just wrong—it was as simple as that. Everet was…Kane didn’t know what he was, but he was someone who shouldn’t get hurt—not ever.

The silence following that blow was longer. Kane tasted blood as his nerves built up and his teeth cut through the thin, sensitive skin on his bottom lip.

“It’s over now,” Ori whispered, from somewhere to Kane’s right. “You can go to your master.”

That was a lie. Kane couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do anything. Fear still paralyzed him.

“Kane?” Ori said again.

Through super-avian strength of will, Kane managed to pry open his eyes. They’d been so tightly closed, they’d started to water. Ori now stood directly in front of him. He appeared concerned. He was also blurry.

Kane swiped at his eyes. They’d watered a lot.

Ori extended a hand, offering Kane a handkerchief. He was so bloody nice. He was probably just the kind of sub Everet wanted.

“I’m not crying,” Kane snapped, in no mood to help Ori show him up in front of Everet.

Striding past the swan, Kane marched across the whipping square. He was halfway to Everet before he realized that he was about to come face to face with the very sight he’d closed his eyes against.

His steps faltered. All the air rushed out of his lungs. Everet stood next to the whipping post, his hand resting on the thick wooden pole as if to steady himself. His head was bowed, as if all his strength had deserted him.

Raynard stood alongside Everet, speaking to him in a low voice. Ori must have walked around the other side of the pole because he appeared at Raynard’s side and offered the hawk a small pot of something. Raynard handed it over to Everet with more softly spoken words.

Then, Raynard looked up and caught sight of Kane.

“Come here, Kane.”

Kane reluctantly did as he was told.

Everet looked over his shoulder as Kane came closer. His face was white. His back wasn’t. Thick red marks crossed his skin in long straight lines. There was no blood. Raynard hadn’t broken the skin.

Kane moved closer still.

Everet’s expression was impossible to read, until it suddenly morphed into one of acute concern. He partially released his hold on the post and held one hand out to Kane. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. It’s over now.”

“You’re very fortunate,” Raynard snapped, almost at the same time.

Kane turned his attention toward the hawk, mostly because it was easier than thinking of something to say to Everet.

“Not many masters would have taken the punishment in your place the way Everet has. I suggest you show your appreciation of his generosity by altering your behavior very rapidly.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Everet said. “Kane and I have already spoken about this. What’s done is done.” His voice wasn’t entirely steady. Inside, Kane wept to hear it, but he kept his expression blank.

Raynard humphed with obvious disapproval. “He’s your submissive. You have to do as you see fit, I suppose.” He looked at Ori for a moment. When he spoke next, his tone was far more mellow. “Do you need help back to your room?”

Everet shook his head. “I’ll be fine, thank you, sir.”

Raynard and Ori turned and walked away, with the swan casting concerned glances over his shoulder as they went. Kane swept his gaze around the room. Most of the men who’d filled the space were leaving.

It seemed as if only a few short seconds had passed before they stood alone in the center of the huge playroom. That was when Kane made the mistake of turning his attention back to where Everet supported himself against the post. All at once, Kane was unable to do anything but stare in horror at Everet’s back.