Work Text:
How shallow, she contemplates.
The man is lying on the floor, naked, wanting. But she can’t bring herself to mirror his excitement.
The crop whistles through the air, sharp and flexible and lands with a sound so loud like a thunderstorm. And he moans and begs. ”Yes, More, Mistress, Please.”
It sickens her.
The blows rain down on his back, leaving her panting with exertion.
He is reduced to whimpers.
Much better. Her mind is reeling with power and adrenaline. The man looks at her then presses his lips to her shoes, his bitten and swollen red lips a sharp contrast with the lush black.
“Shut up and I’ll be merciful.”