JUSTIN’S POV

Where did he get the rope? When? There were other questions smashing into each other in your head like bumper cars, but you had to ignore them because he was walking away from you over to the wall where everything was hanging. He pulled a short, black leather flogger down and walked back to you, and then there he was again, leaning against you, breathing on you, touching you…

“You’re going to learn to process pain tonight,” he told you, and before you could respond he added, “A different kind than you’re used to.” You wanted him to kiss you again; suddenly it felt like days since he’d wanted to. “Your safe word is ‘albatross,’ if you need it.”

”I need you,” you whispered.

He ran his fingers through your hair and held your face in his hand, “That struggle inside you, whatever you were wrestling with down here all week, we’re gonna pull that to the surface and really take a nice, long look at it. Tonight, I’m going to help you drag it out in the open. Of course, if you want, I can just leave you in the corner to do it all by yourself.”

“No. I don’t want to be by myself.”

“A week was long enough, huh?” he asked you.

“Yes.”

“So, you want my help?”

“Please,” you conceded, confused at how he makes you feel so relieved when you shouldn’t be.

He took two steps back and the flogger rained down all over you. It felt like a hail storm.  On steroids.  And the look on his face, it was one you'd never drawn before.