‘Yes, for me. Do you know what that tells me about you, boy? Do you?’
‘No, mistress.’
‘It tells me that you are a miserable little piece of filth who loves to be abused and humiliated. The more I do it, the more it turns you on. You can’t deny it, can you?’
‘No.’ Trevelyan looked stunned, as if an epiphany had just been delivered. Perhaps, Adam thought, this was his natural bent and he had simply never discovered it.
Evie lashed the whip over his curved back.
‘No what?’
‘No, mistress.’
‘Good. Now, crawl for me, around the garden, towards the post.’
Trevelyan fell forward on to all fours and began to move slowly over the grass. Every so often Evie yanked at his collar so that he yelped, or laid the whip across his bare buttocks.
‘That’s just a taster,’ she yelled, disturbingly sergeant major-like.
Adam could not decide whether he found this new version of her palatable or not. On the one hand, she certainly poured well into the latex. On the other, her stentorian bark, with its ersatz clippedness, did little to lure him into sinful imaginings. Which was a mercy, given the frequency with which they plagued him these days.
He watched as poor – or was it poor, given his flushed cheek and bright eye? – Trevelyan was whipped around the lawns, gasping and barking, his cock straining inside its ring in a way that looked painful to Adam.
When they reached ‘the post’ – an X-shaped piece of wood, cemented into the ground – Evie yanked on Trevelyan’s leash and ordered him to kneel up.
‘Sit up and beg,’ she said.
He lifted his chin and extruded his tongue, panting hard, putting out his hands before him like paws.
‘Good boy,’ purred Evie, sounding more like herself. ‘Now roll over.’
He fell sideways on the grass, his cock in full view of the camera.
‘Lie down. No, idiot, on your stomach. Dogs don’t lie on their backs, do they?’
Trevelyan crouched on the grass, his belly low, his legs and arms bent. His back and bottom bore faint lash marks.
‘That’s good, boy. I think you’ve earned yourself a treat. On your knees again.’
Sebastian shouted ‘Cut!’ and Trevelyan flopped down, breathing deeply.
‘You know what comes next, Evie?’ called Kasia.
‘Yeah. Read the script last night, once Flopper ’ere bailed on me.’ She prodded Trevelyan’s thigh with a pointed toe. ‘You’re getting your comeuppance for that,’ she told him.
He shut his eyes, in a kind of rapture, but his interlude didn’t last long.
The clapperboard intruded once more, and Evie dragged him to his feet by his upper arm.
Before long, he was bound to the wooden cross, facing outwards, his arms and legs tightly tied inside lengths of stout rope. Harnessed and collared, he had no way of accessing his cock, which was harder than ever.
Adam held his breath, watching Evie creep closer to her helpless victim. When she bent and blew a sweet breath on Trevelyan’s cock head, Adam felt his own tool swell in sympathy. Perhaps submission was not so alien to him after all.
He exhaled, his face stretching in agonised desire as he watched Evie’s tongue tip dart out and lick a zigzag trail up Trevelyan’s shaft. At the top, she pushed it into the frenulum then gave the purple bulb a catlike lick, around once, before breathing on it again and drawing back.
Trevelyan looked as if he might die.
‘You’d like me to suck it for you, wouldn’t you, boy?’