"I've had a disappointing day."
"I'm sorry," he said instantly. Her eyes narrowed and she pointed to the bedroom.
"Everything off."
He undressed quickly and knelt by the bed. She gave him the rubber ball and handcuffed him. "Bastards," she said and swung the ruler. Oliver groaned for her. He had learned to wait out the initial blows. When she hit faster, she didn't hit as hard. It seemed that groaning sped her up.
"Don't bullshit me, Goddamn it!" What? She cracked him hard twice, paused for breath, and then hit him twice more. "Bastards," she said again. She took her time, winding up for each swing, not speeding up. Oliver began to groan for real. He squeezed the ball, but he was losing control. He thought of getting up and running away, but he was handcuffed and naked.
"Cry, why don't you?" She cracked him again. She was deliberate. "Cry!"
Boys don't. "Cry!" Crack. "Who am I?" Crack.
"Mistress," he managed.
"Damn you." She hit him again. A hot tear squeezed from the corner of his left eye.
"Cry!" Crack.
"Please," he said. Crack. "Please." Tears began to fall.