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“That one,” I decide, pointing to the black-haired girl.

“Hmm, lovely choice.” Madame M claps her hands so loudly that everyone on this side of the room turns to look. “Collette, here,” she orders sharply, tapping the pointed toe of her red stiletto on the floor in front of her.

The girl, Collette, scurries over and slips down to her knees in front of Madame M before bending down and kissing her boot. “Oui,madame,” she answers with her head bowed, her voice soft.

My cock feels like it’s being strangled at the sight of the girl on her knees in front of me. I’ve given pain, but never in my life have I witnessed submission like this.

“We have a new Dom here tonight. He would like to hurt you.” The girl on her knees doesn’t even flinch. “Would you like that, little raven?”

“Oui,madame,” the girl answers with a nod, not even lifting her head to see who she’s agreed to let torture her.

“Such a good girl,” Madame M praises, slipping her index finger under the girl’s chin and lifting her head so that she can see us. Her green eyes flit to me, and they sparkle with intrigue. “What would you like to do to her?” Madame M asks as she looks over at me. “Spank her, whip her, flog her, cut her? Collette enjoys it all, don’t you?”

“Oui,madame.”

“Do you still have the bruises I gave you on your sweet bottom last weekend?”

“I think they’ve faded, madame,” the girl answers, switching to perfect English.

“Such a shame,” Madame M tuts. “You look so pretty when you have bruises to match your eyes.”

“I would happily go over your knee again, madame.”

“Oh I know you would, sweetness,” Madame M answers with trueaffection in her eyes as she strokes the girl’s cheek. “But I can’t be selfish with you. Our new Dom has chosen you to be his tonight. Can you be a good girl for him?”

“Yes, madame.” The girl’s eyes find mine again, and I swear she looks as hungry as I feel.

“So, how would you like to hurt her?” Madame M asks again.

I swallow hard as I think about all the possibilities. Spanking is too soft; I’ve done that before, and I need something more. Cutting? I don’t think I trust myself with a knife at the moment. I’m not even sure what flogging is. Whipping—my cock hardens even more at the thought of wielding a leather whip against Collette’s pale, unblemished skin—I think I can handle a whipping.

“I want to whip her,” I announce, my voice even and steady. I see Collette shiver in response to her fate; if I had to guess, she’s pleased with my decision.

“Going all in, I see,” Madame M retorts with a laugh. “Let’s go find you something pretty to play with.”

Collette is strappedto what I learned is called a St. Andrew’s cross with her back to me and her arms and legs spread and tied in an X formation. Madame M verbally instructed me on how to tighten the leather cuffs correctly, but she let me do all the restraints myself. Collette is stripped bare, waiting to be marked by the short, red leather whip in my hand. I’m debating whether I’m brave enough to actually use it.

“She’s ready for you, boy. Give her what she wants. What you both want,” Madame M demands, pushing me toward the helpless girl’s bare back.

I hesitate, twisting the whip around my hand. Iwantthis. But I’m not sure if I have the guts to do it. Murdering sick bastards whodeserve it is one thing. Tearing into innocent but willing young girls is something entirely different. “I don’t know if I can,” I mutter.

Madame M snatches my arm, digging her pointed nails into my skin to the point of pain. “If you don’t start using that whip in your hands, I’ll take Collette down from the cross and putyouin her place. Waste my time, and you will pay for it in blood.”

She shoves me toward the nearly naked girl. Collette feels warm and tempting beneath me as I run my fingers over her pale and unblemished flesh. I can’t deny that something in me wants to break her and make her skin run red. “Can this make someone bleed?” I ask, running the short whip along the divot of the girl’s spine. She shivers beneath the soft touch of leather.

“Of course,” Madame M croons. “Almost anything can be used to draw blood if wielded harshly enough, but this whip will make it easier for you. Hit her hard enough, and her skin will break very quickly. Is that what you want, boy? Do you want to make her bleed?”

“Yes,” I answer, my tone as dark as pure chocolate.

Madame M claps gleefully. “Such a surprising little sadist. Not many vie for blood their first time.”

I feel her press up against me, her lips brushing over my neck. “Don’t take too much, of course.” She grabs my hand from behind and brings it to Collette’s back, making me stroke my fingers over the blank canvas of her skin. “It is an art of balance. Strokes of red are beautiful against the white, but paint her in one color and you lose the lovely contrast.”

The metaphor helps to calm my nerves. I’m not a deranged psycho with an insatiable urge to bleed a helpless girl. I’m an artist, and the whip is my brush. I’m just painting in shades of red.

“What is your safeword, little raven?” Madame M asks as she continues to run our joined fingers over the girl’s back.

“Meringue, madame,” Collette answers, her voice full and heady.