The breath left my lungs in a whoosh with the first smack of the flogger against my unblemished skin. My back arched, my head lifted when he slapped another across my buttocks. When I lifted my eyes to meet a smile holding no hint of emotion, I knew my dark pupils had swallowed the lighter brown of my irises. I took a moment to admire the handsome planes of his face, the arch of his brows over black eyes terrifying in their coldness. It was the look of a man who could beat me to death with the leather in his hand, but I trusted him to know my limits. I closed my eyes and slipped into a place where all I could do was feel. I revelled in the stinging, and clung to the burning of the tattoo pattern. Both sensations affirmed that I was his. Dorian’s ministrations pulled something out of my soul and replaced it with a craving for something deep and dark, something that only pain could fill. Corporal punishment filled me with a satisfaction greater than my need. I hushed the moans before they left my lips and pulled my thighs together to catch the seeping moisture. Dorian’s breathing grew harder, almost a pant as he stood too close, a restless prowler ready to give in. I clutched the carpet and gritted my teeth in silent disappointment when he dropped the flogger. His dark gaze strayed to mine as he rubbed the raised skin on my ass. I bowed my head. “Thank you, Dorian.”