The State of the Muse Address

Now folks, it’s time for a State of the Muse Address.

The muse, donning skin tight jeansand a flogger steps back to reveal my metaphoricbare backside, now marred with raised red welts from where the flogger came down against myemotional flesh.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“Yellow,” I tell him, fighting back a whimper.

He lifts an eyebrow, knowing I’m rather masochistic, so when I say yellow, I’m on the verge of collapsing, breaking down, and using my safe-word.

“Why yellow?” It’s the habit of Doms to...