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“How’s the pleasure knot?” he asks.
I purr as it grates against my clit and groan when he stops. He walks over to a glass case and opens the door, taking out a flogger with wide tails. I want to back away when he approaches, but I can’t.
“Your safety word is ‘red,’” he tells me. “It’s a basic safety word and good for beginners. You say it when you want me to stop. Just like a traffic light.”
Keeping my eye on the flogger, I reply, “Can I say it now?”
“This is a deer hide flogger. It’s just going to warm you up.”
I don’t know about that and brace myself when he lightly sweeps the flogger against my leg.
“The softness of the hide depletes the intensity of the impact,” he explains.
He swings the flogger lightly against me. I release a breath. So far so good.
Gradually, he slaps the flogger harder and harder on the outside of my thigh. I can take this. A Swedish massage, which I’ve never experienced but have heard about, is probably more painful.
Standing behind me, he swats a buttock with the flogger. Right now the discomfort of being on my toes is worse than the flogger. After warming up my derriere with several thuds, he grabs a buttock and squeezes.
He pulls me into him, and I can feel his hard-on against my backside. “Your ass is going to look so pretty after a good caning.”
Caning?! That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.
“It almost makes me hope I get the chance to punish you,” he finishes.
“So caning is not part of the preview?” I want to confirm.
“Alas, no.”
I exhale.
“But wearegoing to try something heavier than deer hide.”
Setting aside the current flogger, he goes back to the case and retrieves another flogger. It doesn’t look too different from the first and has a beautifully braided handle.
“Elk is also soft, with a buttery texture,” Rafe says as he brushes the material against my leg before pulling it back and smacking the front of my thigh.
I grunt because it has a stronger thud, but so far everything has been tolerable. Rafe lands the flogger against my legs and my buttocks. A few times, he whips me harder, making me grunt more.
“Spread your legs,” he orders.
“Um, why?” I ask, not liking the sound of that.
“It’s not your place to ask questions.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then we go from preview to actual punishment.”
“Do all your ‘guests’ undergo coercion like this?”
Stepping in front of me, he grabs my face by the cheeks. “That was another question, Priscilla.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
He releases me, hopefully mollified by my apology, and steps back behind me. I can only turn my head so far and don’t like that I can’t fully see what he’s up to.
“Legs apart,” he reminds me.
