“We will decide on that when this is over.” He tapped his finger against her nose, one corner of his thin lips lifted in a mock smile. “You are at my mercy until I say otherwise. You can beg for me to stop, but that will only excite me more.”

Her eyes widened, and for the first time since entering the room, she truly wanted to cry. What if I am wrong? What if this is not fun at all? What if I only thought I enjoyed the pain? Beatrice looked around her, but did not see Donatein. Where was he?

“Do not look so frightened, little one. I will make sure you enjoy it. Some.”

The room went completely quiet and still. Nervously, she tried to look around to find where Donatein had gone, but saw nothing. As if to answer her question, a very painful sting landed against her back. On instinct, she tried to move out of the way, but came up short. The area he marked felt hot and swollen, and she closed her eyes, trying to still her pounding heart.

“You enjoy pain, do you not?” His thick French accent reverberated against her ears.

She nodded, biting her lip against the tears that threatened to fall.

“If you enjoy the pain, love, then you should work harder at accepting it.”

She recited those words in her mind with each fiery sting against her flesh. The pain wold be unbearable, she was sure of it. The hiss of the long braided whip caught and tickled her ear. The snap as the tail landed another stinging blow to her back sent tingles of awareness through her veins. Concentrating on the sounds and rhythm enabled her to relax into the experience.

Beatrice stopped pulling against her restraints. Her body fell limp against the chains. Each slash held a reminder of why she was here and what she wanted most. The pain seared through her mind, yet her body dulled and catapulted to a new world that she never expected. She moaned and twisted against the carnal desires of her tormentor. Her thighs quaked. Several times, she pulled her mind from the dark recesses of pleasure. Tears burned her eyes, and fluid leaked down her clamped thighs. Pain rained down on her in the form of a leather whip. She whimpered, unable to hold onto her last shred of dignity. Her pussy swelling in answered need, she whimpered and climaxed.

“Take more,” she heard him say from behind her. Gooseflesh prickled her warm skin, her breath came in uneven pants and she thought for sure that he had torn through her flesh.

Beatrice’s head fell forward. Her back arched towards the leather nips. Her head lulled to the side, sated, bringing a new perspective to the whipping. She could only move when a new stroke landed squarely on her flesh. The stings moved down her thighs and back up to her back again.

Her burning flesh felt more alive than it ever had in the past. Disconnected, yet so completely aware of everything around her. The whiz of the whip that sailed through the air, the pleasurable burn that melted her, his hard breathing that matched her own. He was working hard to please her, and as hard as he worked, he deserved her acceptance.

But when Donatein’s whipping came to a crashing halt, she was jarred out of her state of relaxation. The heaviness of the world came crashing down on her, and she writhed briefly against her restraints. Tears of fear coursed down her cheeks, and her eyes would not open. Her heart skittered nervously in her chest, her stomach clenched in uneasiness. What happened? Where did he go? She whimpered, needing a way out of the situation, but she was lost somewhere in this world and another parallel dimension.

The fingertips that stroked down her welted back brought a semblance of balance back to her. She took several deep breaths. Her fearful whimpers ceased, and she hung, suspended, the tears on her cheeks drying and her stomach finally stopped its fearful quivering. He was still with her. He still wanted her. She needed to please him, and if stopping pleased him, then she would accept it.