Chase. Flora Dain

      ‘What’s happening?’

      An explosion of pain at my rear end makes me gasp.

      ‘What’s happening, what?’ His voice is husky.

      I hang in the cuffs, rigid with shock, my mind a blank. ‘What’s happening – sir?’

      His hand lands again, gentle now, and soothes me once more until my quivering eases. ‘That’s better. No more talking now. Use a safe word if you have to. “Finish” will do it, if it gets too extreme. Got that?’

      I breathe deep and fight for calm. I can play too. ‘Yes, sir. “Finish.” I’ll remember. Sir,’ I add quickly.

      I hang my head as he starts to kiss my back, his mouth hot and hungry. He’s feeling me all over, reaching round to fondle my breasts, teasing and tugging at my nipples, smoothing long, loving caresses all along my flanks and my inner thighs where the soft skin quivers at his touch, almost ticklish. And all at once I feel it, the slick of leather as he draws something across my back – a flogger.

      I was sort of expecting it but it’s still a shock. And now his hands leave off and the whip takes over, its touch lingering and cruel, the strands like long, evil fingers.

      When it slides under my body and up over my front it grazes my nipples. I clench my teeth, desperate not to cry out as they harden and tense into puckered pebbles. When the leathery snakes cruise back through my legs and slither slowly through my splayed, pulsing gap I do