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He chuckled and let her go. “With their ankles unbound, it gives them a bit of leeway to dance under the whip’s sting.”
My head rushed with static.
I couldn’t breathe.
Stay in the role!
Wiping my mouth, I choked, “I can imagine.”
“Oh, no need to imagine, mon ami. You’re about to do it.”
I shivered with equal parts desire and despair.
“Have you ever whipped someone, Henri?”
“That’s it, Onn Ree. See how they welt for you? You’re very good at this, my boy.”
Swallowing my past, I shook my head.
No way would I admit I could swing a flogger at seven years old. That my education in this filth started well before I could read.
No wonder my mind blocked it out so completely.
Flipping Ily back to face us, Victor ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Let’s see how much you’re willing to fight when my friend paints you in lashes, hmm? Henri seems to think you’ll stay belligerent. Me? I think you’ll start begging. Shall we take a bet?”
Letting her go, he came toward me and stole the bag dangling forgotten on my fingers. Pulling the whip out, he tossed the bag to the side then yanked off the black ribbon. The oaky tannin smell grew stronger as the long length unspooled and landed across my loafers.
My cock thickened to painful levels.
I’d worn jeans and a black t-shirt; I sweated right through them.
This is bad.
Very, very bad.
Pressing the whip into my palm, he grinned. “Ten thousand euros if you go too far and make her sob instead of swear. Deal?”
Wrapping my fingers around the leather braided handle, my head swam as I did my best to cling to sanity. “Fine.”
“Excellent. I do love a good wager. That reminds me, we still need to transfer those funds.” Stroking the whip, he smiled. “No matter, I have a feeling you’ll be undergoing your initiation sooner rather than later, and we can get the nasty business of money over and done with, but for now…seeing as you’re new to this, this is called a bullwhip, and it’s a personal favourite. It leaves the most delightful lashes.”
“Use the bullwhip, Onn Ree. No, not that one. That’s a tigress whip. No, that’s a cane. God’s sake, boy. That one. Yes. Now…hit her.”
My heart pounded through my ribs. “Awesome.” My hand trembled as I stroked my thumb along the handle. It looked similar to the one in my fucked-up childhood. Only difference? This was dark brown and my father’s had been tan. A colour light enough to turn rusty with layers of shed blood.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I made the mistake of looking at Ily.
Everything screeched to a halt.
Every moment of last night.
Everything we’d said.
Every promise we’d whispered.
They seemed utterly stupid now.
Were we really going to fucking do this?
