Octavia almost fell asleep cuddling Blake's naked body on the bed as he slowly came to his senses. There was something so exquisitely intimate about nurturing and caring for a big, strong man while he was vulnerable. She tenderly ran her fingertips up his spine, admiring the beauty of his muscles.

His head moved down, chin to his chest, and his arm curled up to rub his eyes. She thought nothing of it at first, she was in too languid a mood to read his body language. But when he slipped out of her embrace and off the bed without saying a word, a cold pit started to form in her stomach. He moved quickly, he had already pulled on his pants and was looking for his socks when she managed to sit up on the bed and look at him.

"Don't you dare leave this room, Blake." She gave him a piercing look across the room. "Not without talking to me."

He froze and hung his head. She had correctly guessed that he was getting dressed to leave. He seemed to hesitate, his socks in his hand, his eyes on his Showpony shirt. Then he put his socks back down and walked back towards the bed with a guilty look on his face.

She rose from the bed in all her naked, curvy glory and walked up to him, glaring all the while. "Why were you going to flee and abandon me here?"

He swallowed and closed his eyes. "I don't deserve…"

"That's not your decision, Blake." She knew he was going to say that. She knew his insecurity and low self-esteem often flared up in these moments after sex. "I decide whether you deserve what I give you! Do you really want to presume, like Henry did?" She held him by the chin, making him look at her.

"I'm not worthy of your love, Octavia." He whispered without really thinking about it, he was still raw with emotion from everything that had happened today.

She sighed. She knew where this line of reasoning would go, and she weighed whether she had it in her today. With a bitter grin, she cupped his jaw in her hand. "You're right. You deserve to be punished." And she slapped him on the cheek.

He went down to the ground as if he'd just been hit with an uppercut. When the daze of the hit passed, he covered his face with his hands and curled up into a ball. 

Octavia's mind was racing, devising what he would need and what she would need to do. She quickly crossed the room, grabbed his shirt and put it on. Then she went looking for something to quickly put her hair up. 

"Here are the rules, Blake." She glanced at him on the floor as she moved. "Number one, you will accept your punishment willingly. Number two, I will give you ten strokes with a whip or cane of your choosing. Number three, when that is done, you will surrender to whatever comes next. Do you accept?" She looked around the room, but she didn't have a kneeling bench here in the studio, the only impact play she ever did was at home with Dan. He would have to stand.

Blake sat up and nodded but he didn't look at her. "I accept." Maybe he was thinking about what she had planned, or maybe he was too preoccupied with his feelings to understand what he had just agreed to, it was impossible to tell.

"Get up." Octavia leaned on the table, tired of being stern with Blake all the time. She knew she could make a beautiful scene here that would make them both feel better, she only needed to focus. "Look inside the chest over there and bring me your instrument of torture."

He wiped his hair out of his face and rose to his feet. When he opened the chest at the foot of the bed he paused, weighing his options. All of the whips, canes, rope and sex toys she kept in that chest had been used and cleaned before, but they were props usually. None of them had seen any serious action, not like her favourite toys that she kept in the dungeon at home. Blake seemed to struggle for a moment with the dilemma. Would he choose a soft flogger that would make it a pleasant experience for both of them, or would he feel compelled to pick something more harsh and painful?

When he closed the chest again, she stood up straight, waiting for him with her hands open. He walked up to her and went down on one knee to offer her the riding crop. In that moment of eye-contact, she felt that he understood her plan. He picked something that would wound him, that he would have to endure. This scene was going to be drawn out, if she accepted.

She took the crop from him and casually bent it in her hands. "So… Ten strokes, no warm up." She relaxed and let her voice grow soft. "Willingly..."

He nodded. With a final look at her hands, he turned around and opened his pants. Then he paused. "Do you want me naked?"

"No." She slapped the inside of her hand with the crop, just to see him flinch at the sound. "There's something sexy about being half-dressed, isn't there?"

He pulled his pants down just enough to expose his buttocks and then stood in the middle of the room, where she would have all the space she wanted. As he waited there with his back turned to her, he stared off into the distance, his arms hanging down to show his submission, but his fingers curling up in nervous anticipation.

Taking her time, she sauntered up to him and just touched his butt with her hand, savouring the way it startled him. "So… You want me to punish you?"

He closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Please hit me, Octavia."

Aiming carefully, she swung the crop so fast it whistled through the air. She struck him horizontally across the cheeks, making him shake for a moment. His breathing quickened and he grimaced silently.

"Nine more to go, and then you surrender to whatever I choose to do to you." She reminded him as she gently caressed his back.

He clenched up and waited for the next one without saying a word. Octavia observed him like that for a moment, so tense and handsome and strong. Then she let the crop whiz through the air vertically, without hitting him. She enjoyed seeing him flinch. After a moment, he hesitantly turned his head to give her a worried look. 

"Willingly…" She repeated with a grin.

His voice was hoarse as he said: "You want me to ask for every stroke?"

"I would prefer if you begged," She replied gleefully. "But asking will suffice."

He turned his back to her again and rubbed his face. His shoulders tensed and he hung his head. "Please hit me again."

She struck him, hard and fast this time. A glowing red welt started to grow on his bare skin. "Eight more to go, and then you deserve whatever comes next." She said with a smile.

His breathing didn't slow down, and he didn't move. After a few moments of anxiously flexing his hands and arms, he cleared his throat. His voice was still hoarse. "Please hit me again."

She took pleasure in quickly thwacking him, trying to strike before he had even finished speaking. Making him ask for it was just humiliating enough to challenge him, and it had the added benefit of letting him choose the pace. "Seven more to go, and then you're done. I decide what happens after that." 

"Again, please." He said with bated breath, his shoulders and chest rising and falling rapidly, still looking down at the floor.

"Six more after this and then you're mine." She took a deep breath and stepped closer to him as she swung the crop. The impact made him stagger away from her. That would teach him for trying to rush it. She crossed her arms and backed away to give him some space.

He tried to stifle a painful moan as he shifted on his feet. It took him a few deep, shuddering breaths before he managed to return to the middle of the room and stand still there. He hugged himself and his knuckles turned white as he urged her: "Please hit me again."

She approached and tenderly touched the welt, feeling how warm it was. He gasped and arched his back, looking up at the ceiling. With one hand, she caressed up his spine, touching him helped her steady her aim. And then she struck him again, just above the welt.

He jolted and grunted, stumbling forward. With his eyes closed and his face averted, it was hard to tell how he was doing. He flexed and rolled his muscles as if he was trying to shrug off the pain somehow.

"You're halfway. Five more and then you can finally let go." Her voice grew softer and more gentle, encouraging him. 

He nodded, bracing himself as he assumed the position. "Please hit me again." The pitch of his voice went up, making him sound younger.

The crop whistled as she whipped it through the air. This stroke was so hard, he faltered and fell forward to the floor. His jaw clenched and his eyes tightly shut, he moaned. Octavia stepped back to take in this breathtaking view; the pain so clearly visible as he sat there on his hands and knees, his face pressed against the carpet and his bare buttocks up into the air.

"Only four more and then it's over, sweet man." She crouched beside him and touched his shoulder. "Do you want me to help you up, or do you want to stay there?"

He pushed off from the floor with the resilience that could be expected of someone who had taken many different kinds of beatings, refusing her help. He glanced at her with tears in his eyes before he quickly turned his back. "Please hit me again."

Shifting position, she aimed for a spot that was still untouched. She let the crop whiz through the air but made sure that the hit was not as hard as the one before. The thwack was just as loud and Blake groaned, stumbling to the floor.

"Only three more until you're free of all this pain and guilt." She approached to stroke his hair and his shoulder. It made him sob and his head moved as he tried to swallow his tears. Blindly, his hand reached up and she took it, ready to help him up. He took a deep breath and sat up, bringing her fingers to his lips to kiss them. 

"Please…" He struggled to get to his feet. "Again, Octavia."

She looked at the way he strained to find his balance and dawdled, playing with the crop in her hands. "Soon, you'll surrender completely to me. Only two more after this." She weighed her options and then quickly slapped the red welt with the crop.

Whimpering, he balled his hands into fists but he managed to remain standing this time. He took a few deep breaths but he couldn't stop his voice from breaking when he said: "Please hit me again."

With one hand on his shoulder to steady him, she observed the way his hands were trembling and the perspiration running down his back. "You want this to be over, don't you, my dear?" She asked him in a sweet, sultry tone.

Panting, but trying to slow his breathing down, he closed his eyes and bit his lip.

"You want to move on to the next part, don't you?" She caressed his back in a soothing way. "The part where you finally let go, and I give you what you deserve."

He took a deep breath and held it, his whole body clenching up. Then, he nodded his head.

Octavia quickly swung the crop, slapping each buttock once. She tried to catch him before he fell again, but his knees gave out and he sank down to the floor. His arms trembled as he leaned on them and he stifled a sob. Dropping the crop, she grabbed his arms and guided him to the bed where she helped him lie down. He buried his face in the covers, even though he leaned into her touch.

She sat down beside him and took a moment to think about what she was going to say next. "So… Here we are." She gently caressed his hair as she spoke. "You willingly took ten strokes. And now… Tell me what happens now."

His hands clawed the bed covers, grabbing hold as if he was bracing himself for more pain. He lifted his head just enough to speak clearly, but not enough that she could see his face. "I surrender. Whatever you give me now, that's what I deserve..." His voice died away and he waited, silent and still.

She lay down beside him, shoulders and hips touching, and then she grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his and buried her hand in his hair to get a firm grip on his head. He yielded and allowed all of it, even when she started to kiss him tenderly.

"I love you, Blake." She whispered between kisses. "And I'm going to make love to you. Because that's what you deserve."