Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(30)

Her eyes widened. “Is it because of me?”


“In a way. Layla never should’ve lied to Murphy to get you into the club. It was her

choice, so she has to deal with the consequences. Their scene will be about punishment.

”



She paled. “Seriously?”


“Yeah. So we can stay here until it’s over. Or we can go find a room right now.”


“You suggesting I hide? Even though it’s partially my fault she’s being subjected to

punishment?”


“It’s not your fault. Layla isn’t a novice to the lifestyle, Angel. You are.”


“Will it be bad?”


“I swear to you Murphy won’t hurt her beyond what she can handle. But the whole point

is to remind her of her submissive, not subversive, role in his life.”


Determination flitted through her eyes. She drained her drink. “I want to watch.”


Brave girl. “Just as long as you understand you cannot interfere. Period.”


“I won’t.”


Ben left his unfinished beer on the table. Clasping her hand, he led her through the

crowd, taking a left at the hallway.


Two dozen people were in front of the medieval room. He nudged her to a space in the

middle of the crowd, wrapping his arms around her upper body, unsure if he meant to

hold her up or hold her back.


She gasped softly, seeing Layla in chains, arms above her head, a spreader bar keeping

her legs apart. Her naked back faced the audience. Murphy wielded a single tail whip.


Layla stuttered, “F-fourteen, Sir.”


Welts decorated Layla’s back. Murphy didn’t move as he cracked the whip again; the

tip scored the tender skin on her left side.


Angel jumped and Ben held tight. “This part is almost done,” he murmured. “Murphy

never does more than twenty strikes.”


Layla counted, her voice staying strong. But Murphy didn’t look happy when he leveled

the final blow. He put the whip aside and stood in front of his submissive, forcing her

to meet his gaze as he unhooked the manacles from her wrists. Then he nodded at Sully,

who rolled a pommel up front.


Layla said something to Murphy and he snapped, “That earned you another ten.” He

hoisted her off the floor, placing her torso on the modified pommel horse. Her head and

arms dangled on the opposite side, which left her ass sticking up in the air. With her

legs spread by the bar, her * and her anus were totally exposed to all who watched

the scene.


Murphy restrained Layla’s arms and snagged a paddle off the cart. He grabbed a fistful

of her hair, raising her head. “Twenty swats. You will count them down from twenty.

And if I’m not convinced you’ve learned your lesson, I will add twenty more from the

cane. Are we clear?”


“Yes, Sir.”


He moved behind her. He swung, the paddle connected with her skin, high on her left

butt cheek.


“Twenty. Thank you, Sir.”


The next blow hit in the same place.


“Nineteen. Thank you, Sir.”


The next blow lower. Each blow precisely placed so every inch of Layla’s ass was

cherry red.