Doris

The man on the cross grunted into his gag as the first strike of the whip landed across his back. It was a thin, red line, a sharp, stinging kiss of leather on skin. The head nurse was starting off gently, her movements practiced and precise, each lash a measured lesson.

As the whip fell again, Jenny leaned closer to Doris, her voice a calm, informative whisper against the backdrop of the man's muffled grunts. "This particular subject is being re-calibrated," she explained, as if discussing a fine-tuned engine. "He failed to show the proper deference to a female colleague. This session is designed to reacquaint him with the natural order of things. Pain is a very effective teacher."

Doris leaned into Leo, her body seeking his strength and solidity. He put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. She felt the warmth of him, the solid muscle of his chest against her back, and a fire ignited deep within her. She watched the man being whipped, watched his body tense and flinch with each strike, and a dark, thrilling power coursed through her veins. This was real. This was control.

Leo lowered his head and kissed the soft skin between her shoulder and her neck. A shiver ran through her, and she pushed herself back against him, feeling the hard, undeniable ridge of his erection pressing into her through his trousers. For the first time since she had arrived, she let herself imagine it. She imagined Leo entering her, his strength and his desire joining with the dark power she was witnessing, and the thought was so potent it made her knees weak.

She was brought back from her reverie by Jenny's voice. "Would you like to try?"

The question hung in the air, shocking and electrifying. Doris hesitated, a flicker of her old self, the one who was polite and proper, rearing its head. But then Leo was there, his lips by her ear. "Do it," he urged, his voice a low, encouraging growl. "Feel it."

The head nurse unclipped the riding crop from her belt and held it out to Doris. As Doris took it, the leather cool and firm in her hand, the nurse leaned in close, her breath warm against Doris's ear. "Do not say a word," she whispered.

The first few slaps with the crop were awkward and hesitant. The leather landed with a pathetic thud, doing little more than making the man flinch. Jenny stepped behind Doris, her body close, her hands covering Doris's. "Relax your wrist," she murmured, guiding her. "It's all in the flick. Let your arm flow. Don't aim it, feel it."

Under Jenny's tutelage, Doris's movements became smoother, more confident. She found the rhythm, the satisfying snap of the crop against flesh. With each strike, the man's grunts became more pained, his body writhing against the restraints. By the time Doris had delivered a dozen sharp, stinging lashes, the man was sobbing, his body slumped in defeat against the cross. And Doris was soaking, her underwear slick with the evidence of her own dark arousal.

She walked up to the man, her heart pounding with a mixture of triumph and a strange, new tenderness. She reached out and stroked a few of the angry red lines she had left on his back, her fingers tracing the raised welts. Her eyes scanned the canvas of his suffering, and then she saw it.

Just below the left shoulder blade, half-hidden by the burlap hood, was a small, jagged scar. A pearly white line of twisted tissue that she knew better than her own reflection. It was a scar Arthur had gotten from his days of playing rugby at university, when the metal studs of an over-enthusiastic opponent had cut deep into his back during a muddy scrum.

The world tilted. The crop slipped from her numb fingers and clattered to the floor. The man on the cross wasn't a subject, a stranger being re-calibrated. It was Arthur.

A strangled gasp escaped her lips. She turned and ran, stumbling out of the room, her vision blurred. She fled through the exhibit room, past the ancient instruments of torment. She burst out of the heavy wooden doors and into the bright, indifferent sunlight, gulping down air as she ran blindly into the grounds.