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As the sun began to set on a warm evening, Claire entered the master bedroom. She paused at the door and breathed in the heady scent of his cologne mixed with the musty aroma of leather furniture. Her body twitched with anticipation. Tonight, she was to be whipped, and the wondered of it made her feel deliciously nervous.

She spotted him at the end of the room, his back towards her as he leafed absentmindedly through a book. She walked over slowly, the sound of her heels echoing loudly in the room. When she was within a few feet of him, she slowed down, making sure to rustle the leather of her skirt as she did so.

He turned to her. His eyes ran up and down her body, taking in her tight corset and lace gloves, and finally, they met hers.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice cold and dispassionate.

“Good evening,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Silence fell between them as he continued to gaze at her, studying her every movement.

Finally, he spoke again. “Tonight, you will be whipped.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stood up and walked towards her, and as he did so, he pulled out his long black whip. The sound of it slithering out of its holder made her pulse race with excitement, and she instinctively dropped down to her knees.

He stood over her, and she felt his fingers tangle in her hair as he pulled her head back so that she was forced to look up at him.

“You know the rules,” he said softly, almost soothingly. “You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not move unless told to. And most importantly, you will not come unless I give you permission.”

She nodded, unable to speak. Her body was responding to him in methods she had never experienced before, and she knew she was in for a long night of pleasure and pain.

He knelt down in front of her, his face just inches from hers. “Now,” he said quietly, “let’s begin.”

And with that, he began to whip her. The first strike landed on her ass, and she gasped, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure. The pain was immediate and intense, but at the same time, it sent waves of pleasure shooting through her body. With each successive strike, she felt herself getting wetter and wetter, her body begging for release.

But she didn’t dare move. She just lay there, completely still, as he continued to whip her, covering her body with thin red welts. After what felt like hours, he finally stopped, and she lay there panting, unable to move.

He stood up and walked over to his dresser. When he returned, he was holding a small vial of oil. He poured it onto her skin, and as he did so, she felt the pain start to subside, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

As he rubbed the oil into her skin, she felt herself starting to come alive again. She knew they weren’t finished yet, not by a long shot.

And as she lay there, her body pulsing with desire, she knew that she would do this again and again, submitting to him completely, every time, without fail.
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