“Nils, you don’t mind if before I whip you, I loosen this corset? It’s so tight it’s really uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” Nils answered. “But wait a second? You’re going to whip me?”

“Uh huh,” Jamie said. “But first you have to take off all your clothes. Otherwise we won’t get the full effect.”

“I don’t get it,” Nils said. “What’s gotten into you? You’re not into whipping and such.”

“You’re right,” Jamie said. “But this outfit came in the mail, and I had to try it on. The boots didn’t fit at all. I do like the feel of this whip, though. The handle is very sleek.”

“I think it’s called a flogger,” Nils said. “Too bad about the boots. Who sent you this stuff, anyway?”

“There was no return address. Peculiar, huh?”

“Very peculiar. Anyway, I don’t really feel like getting whipped today.”

“You mean flogged,” Jamie said.

“Right. Flogged.”

“Okay,” Jamie said. “Whew, now I can take everything off.”

“Maybe you could leave the corset on,” Nils said. “It’s kind of sexy. Especially with your breast peeking out.”

“Any preference for which breast?” Jamie asked.

“Either one,” Nils said.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a nice contrast, one breast free and the other confined. So, if I’m not going to whip you—I mean flog you—I have to figure out some other way to torture you.”

Applied judiciously to Nils’ most sensitive spots, the tip of Jamie’s finger did the trick—a trick which took a gloriously excruciating forty minutes to complete.