"Stand up, please," she said again. Her voice held authority, but at the same time he could tell she was giving him an option, not an ultimatum. He could still end the game, if he wanted. He took a second to consider, then stood up.
Her responding smile was all he needed to reassure him. He wanted this. He wanted to make her smile like that. Wanted to drive her as wild as she was driving him. Somehow, instinctively, he knew his obedience was doing that.
She wound up and struck him. He braced against the flail, but was surprised how little it hurt. He relaxed a little just before the second blow came. There was a third and fourth as well, peppering his back and bum with tickling, hot lashes. None of them alone gave him much pain, each one brought his nerves to light, made him sensitive all along his back so that when she stepped forward and cupped one of his cheeks, he thought he might jump and hop away. It all felt so good, but he needed more.
