Yes, Justin by Michele Zurlo

reverently. Shivers made her body jerk, but the cuffs buckled to the cross held her in place.
    “So responsive. My Trish, always so responsive.” He stepped back, taking the softness of the falls with him. “This shouldn’t hurt yet, honey. Relax into it.”
    That he kept dropping the whole dom demeanor didn’t upset Trish in the least, and it didn’t ruin the fantasy. Having him here, administering her whipping, far outstripped any of the fantasies she’d imagined. The fact that he behaved the same way he always behaved around her meant he was comfortable with what they were doing, and she hoped that meant he would want to continue this at home.
    The first slap of the whip startled her away from those happy thoughts. The sting she had read about in all those novels was curiously absent. He had said it shouldn’t hurt, but she didn’t really think he would know one way or another. She couldn’t quite decide what it felt like.
    Another blow fell. They came rapidly, but they didn’t hurt. If anything, it felt a lot like a massage. Trish relaxed into the rhythm as he moved up and down her back. Before too long, he extended his territory to cover her ass and thighs. By the time his whip dropped away, she felt liquid.
    Hot cream dripped from her pussy, but the urgency she thought she would feel wasn’t there. If he took her down now, she would be ripe for making slow love, not for quick, hard fucking.
    His fingertips trailed down her back. Where he always felt a little like fire touching her skin, he now felt like ice. She shivered.
    “How are you doing, Trish? Your skin is the loveliest shade of pink.”
    “I feel relaxed. A little floaty.” Her words came out slow and a bit slurred. Now that she thought about it, she felt like this after having a drink or two. Justin always teased her about being such a lightweight.
    He laughed softly. “Good. This next part will feel different.”
    An eternity seemed to pass before anything happened, but she knew only moments elapsed. Her relaxed state played with her mind, messing up her sense of reality. Vaguely, she wondered if this was the subspace she’d heard so much about.
    The falls of the whip whistled through the air, but she paid them no mind. Though they hadn’t made this sound last time, her groggy brain didn’t see a real difference. Once the falls landed, her back definitely distinguished the sensation. Tendrils of fire raced along every place those falls struck and pulled her far away from the nice, relaxed place Justin had sent her.
    Stunned, Trish couldn’t cry out. The whip fell again and again, alternating on each side of her back. She lost count of how many times he struck her, but the fire traveled down her back, over her ass, and onto her thighs. He whipped her hard everywhere he had massaged.
    Her relaxed muscles screamed in protest, a loud sound that hurt her ears. Gradually, the noise died down, and she realized those screams had come out of her mouth. True to his word, Justin neither stopped nor slowed down.
    She writhed, trying to escape the blows, but the cuffs on her wrists and ankles held her still. Because he had spread her legs and arms so wide, she couldn’t even wiggle from side to side.
    “Please, please, please.” The plea fell from her lips, but she didn’t know if she wanted him to stop or to keep going. After all, she’d asked for this. She’d nearly destroyed her marriage in order to experience this. Perhaps she had this coming.
    The burn and the pain morphed into something different. Her distorted sense of time wouldn’t tell her exactly how gradually it happened. One moment, she struggled to not scream the safe word. The next moment, a profound sense of peace blanketed her body and soul.
    She didn’t know when the whip stopped, but eventually, she found herself enfolded in Justin’s arms. A cool cloth pressed to her eyes, and she realized she’d been crying.
    “Let it all out, Trish. You keep too much inside.” He ran his