“Enough?” The voice booms out, echoing off the cinderblock walls, jerking me back to reality.
I open my eyes, but the blackness still surrounds me: the leather hood.
“Enough?” The voice commands rather than questions.
My back stings anew with the lashes, feeling almost prickly, as if nails have been driven into flesh. The damp presence of warm blood reminds me of my master’s love and the exquisite pain to which I have just succumbed. At my feet, a pool of my own c*m spreads across the floor, turning clearer and more watery with each moment.
I nod in response to his question.
His arms, roped with muscle, surround me, undoing the binds, holding me up.
Gently, my master places me on the floor, the cold concrete smooth and soothing against my wounded back.
At last he pulls off the hood,
