“Yes, Sir.” She swallowed hard. You got this, she reminded herself. You’re back in the game.
As he turned back to address his audience, she let the straps of the sundress fall from her shoulders. She stepped out of it and walked over to one of the empty chairs to set it down.
As she returned to stand near the whipping post, she could feel the eyes of everyone on her. She kept her gaze fixed on Dylan, refusing to allow herself to blush under their scrutiny.
“As I was saying before Kendra arrived,” Dylan said, “bullwhips are nothing like floggers. They travel at the speed of sound. They are extremely dangerous. Treat the whip like you’re learning to play with a chainsaw.”
There were some chuckles at this, but Dylan wasn’t smiling. “I’m dead serious,” he reiterated. “It’s very easy to break the skin with a bullwhip. You can draw blood or leave a permanent mark, whether intended or not. Never use a whip or any impact toy on a person until you’ve mastered your form and technique. I recommend—”
“Is that what happened to your slave girl?” the Van Dyke beard dude called out, cutting Dylan off in mid-sentence. “That scar between her tits. Is that from a whip?”
The blush Kendra had managed to stave off now rushed full-force into her face. She started to deny the rude man’s question, but before she could stammer something out, Dylan turned to him. “What’s your name, sir?”
“I am Master Chuck,” the man said self-importantly, as if the title had been conferred by the Queen of England.
“Well, Master Chuck,” Dylan said with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a rather personal question and, no offense, none of your business.” He looked to the rest of the group. “Now, as I was saying…”
Kendra flashed a grateful glance at Dylan, who met her eye with a brief nod. As he continued to lecture about whip safety and protocol, Kendra closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, letting it out slowly through her mouth as she counted to five.
The relaxation technique had helped calm her after the worst of the nightmares, and it worked now to steady her nerves. After several more calming breaths, she opened her eyes and lifted her chin, fixing the rude Dom with a withering gaze.
Finally done with the lecture portion of the demo, Dylan said, “It goes without saying since everyone in this room is experienced in the scene, but I’ll say it anyway. Always make sure you know your sub’s safeword. And make sure they know it’s not a failure if they use it.”
Though he probably still remembered Kendra’s rather distinctive safeword, he turned to her and said in a voice designed to carry, “Remind me of your safeword, Kendra?”
“Bukkake,” Kendra replied. There were a few chuckles and smirks from those familiar with the porn term. She doubted any of them knew it was used in kitchens, too.
“Bukkake,” Dylan repeated, flashing her a brief, lopsided grin.
Turning back to the group, he continued, “Now, a brief demonstration. I like to start lightly, a good idea with any impact toy, to both warm up the skin and to build a layer of sensation. You need to give the bottom time to react to the impact—to absorb and then recover from it. Sometimes with a single tail, the reaction is slower than that of a flogger or crop, since the crack and the movement are so quick, and it takes a little time for the brain to catch up.”
Turning to Kendra, he said, “Please face the whipping post, feet apart. You may grip the straps for balance.”
As Kendra assumed the position, she eased into a submissive headspace, her skin tingling with expectation. She gripped the straps and breathed deeply, closing her eyes.
“Make sure there’s enough space to swing the whip,” she heard Dylan say from behind her. “I recommend about two whip-lengths from the subject. And make sure there’s no one nearby who might inadvertently be in the path of the whip. Posture is important. Start by balancing yourself on both feet, legs spread about shoulder distance apart, knees slightly bent, with your striking arm shoulder facing your target. Hold the whip with the knob in the palm of your hand, like so.” He demonstrated, adding, “Allow the whip to swivel in your hand as you move it to reduce the stress and bending near the knob. We’ll start with a controlled, overhand stroke. Keep your wrist relaxed. The whip should become an extension of your forearm.”
He came up behind her, dipping his head so his mouth was near her ear, his breath warm on her neck. “You good?”
A shiver of desire moved through Kendra’s frame. She wished they were alone. “Yes, Sir,” she said softly.
“If you’re uncomfortable at any time, tell me,” he reminded her. “It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s an essential. Got that?”