Page 605 of End Game

I smile. “I was beginning to suspect that.”

The flogger goes down.

The crop comes up.

His breathing changes at the sound before I ever touch him with it.

I let him hear it cut through the air once.

“Still green?”

“Yes.”

The first strike lands high on his thigh.

His entire body tightens.

There.

I wait.

He breathes through it.

“Again.”

I do.

Sharper.

His fingers grip the edge of the table.

“Again.”

This time I strike the opposite side.

Micah makes a sound.

Low.

Barely there.

My cock is almost painfully hard now, inconveniently but predictably.

I do not pretend otherwise.

Sadism without desire is not morally superior sadism.

What makes this safe is not that I am detached.

It is that my pleasure does not outrank his consent.

I continue.

Measured.

Intentional.

Moving between thighs and ass, never letting repetition drift into carelessness.