KirI pull the flogger from the heavy canvas duffel.Thirty tails of dense, oil-tanned leather. The handle is braided, weighted with lead in the core so it balances perfectly in my palm. It’s not a toy. It’s a tool designed to overwhelm the nervous system, and I know exactly how to use it now.I let the tails drop, swinging them back and forth to straighten them. Oliver stares hard enough to hypnotize himself.He’s on his back on the mattress. His chest heaves, his skin is flushed and damp with sweat. His wrists are strapped tightly behind him with my belt, pulling his shoulders back into an awkward, helpless arch. He tracks the flogger with wide, red-rimmed eyes.The defiance is bleeding out of him, but the panic is still there. He’s still fighting himself."Turn over," I tell him.He doesn't hesitate. He rolls onto his stomach, burying his face in the fitted sheet. His sweatpants and boxer briefs are still pooled around his ankles. His ass and thighs are a canvas of differing
Read more