Chapter Fourteen
Inside the room, things are really steamy, and not in a carnal way. At least not yet.
It takes me a moment to see through all the vapor, but when I do, I gape at the scene—a perfect word for what’s happening.
A Russian woman—who may be a supermodel—is sprawled on her belly on a nearby bench. Her bra straps are undone, her toned back exposed. Looming over her is a man holding the bushel/venik thing in his hand, raised as if it’s a flogger and he’s about to—
Yep.
He flogs her with the twigs. Once. Twice.
She moans.
Wait a f*****g second.
Is banya the name for a secret Russian b**m club?
“S lyehkim parom,” Art says to the couple.
“S lyehkim parom,” replies the Dominant in a deep voice.
“S lyohkim parom,” says the submissive.
Art sets the wooden plank he picked up
