“Here are the rules,” he said. “You survive my crop, you earn my cock. A hundred strikes of this.” He lifted the crop into the air. “For a hundred strokes of this.” He pointed casually at his crotch and she could see the outline of his erection through the pale breeches. The trousers adhered so tightly to his body she could even see one long vein running from the base along to the shaft to the tip. She knew that vein. She’d licked it with her own tongue.
