"Bend over."The man's voice echoed behind her, magnetic and irresistible.Lyla Sinclair trembled, feeling the coarse texture of the small leather whip grazing across her hips, again and again, each stroke both a threat and a tease.She instinctively leaned forward, her hands pressed against the couch. Her underwear and skirt had somehow been removed, leaving her in a shameful, exposed position.The man’s broad hand caressed her buttocks, gently patting her as if calming a prized mare, a mix of punishment and reward.In this intoxicating caress, Lyla gradually abandoned her shame. Summoning her courage, she leaned back and, with a trembling voice, said, “Let me see you.”The next second, the whip landed hard on her skin, making her gasp in pain.“Watch your tone,” the man said coolly, “What should you call me?”The pain sharpened her mind. Lyla knew the rules of this game well—she should address him as Master. But her innate pride and shame kept her from uttering the word.The whip lin
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