The doors closed behind me with a low, resonant thud. I didn’t realize Cassandra had stepped away until I felt the sudden weight of solitude pressing in. Alone, at the threshold of a world I barely understood, I could only stare at the scene before me.
The woman was trembling, her head still bowed, but her moans rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed almost ritualistic. The man with the whip wasn’t cruel, not in the way I feared. His strikes were measured, precise, each one followed by a hand that soothed her, caressed her, praised her submission.
My chest ached with something I couldn’t name. Desire, yes—but also envy. I wanted to know what it felt like to kneel like that. To be seen, utterly stripped of the masks I wore every day.
“First times are always the hardest.”
The voice came f
