“No, no, no, please sir, please don’t…”

Artemis is cuffed to my bed by ankles and wrists, spreadeagled on their front. Marks from a riding crop show red on their backside, but that’s not why they’re begging. The little badge in my hand curves to a dull point, and I am halfway down their spine, carving a line every centimetre. The screaming started three lines in.

“Please not that, sir, please, please stop…”


I press the point in hard and draw another line, and another. They scream and thrash against the cuffs, trying to twist away.

“Please sir, beat me, beat me five times for every scratch you were going to do, please no more…”

I dig the point in again and hold it there a moment.

“No, no, no, please no, sir, please, no, no, ” and their words dissolve into screaming as I scratch.

“Five more.”

“Twenty-five with the crop, sir, please?”

I smile slowly.

“Five more.”