At the club, I watched him rig up some rope and a steel bar among the exposed beams.

“That’s for you,” he said.

The contraption left my body free for him to circle and flog in all different directions.

He held a rose before my mouth and told me to bite down on the stem.

Most of the flogging was frontal this time. Since I wasn’t blindfolded, I could see the people watching us, but soon they didn’t matter to me.

Afterward, he guided me to my knees and kneeled alongside me, then held me by the neck and bent me nearly backward. My body was so warm and flexible, he had total control.

The position allowed him to assess the marks on the tops of my breasts and on my belly. I know we made a beautiful shape together, too – we usually received many compliments. I have also seen him with others. He knows what looks beautiful – it is part of his job.

None of that mattered right then, though. At that moment, someone could have killed me and I would not have minded.

I spent the rest of the evening tracing the rose all over my skin.