The Power Dynamic

The Impact Dynamic Part 2

Danny

"Strip."

The pretense was gone. His facade faded to leave only the dominant beneath. The man who took joy in this, derived pleasure in this and the man who lived for sadism. Though they shared a face, this Cyrus was nothing like the professional CPA. There was no tense composure and no false civility. His body relaxed with his shoulders dropping as he let go of the mask. His face was cruel authority and impassioned need, threading through his posture and his words.

I was stunned by this change in him. I didn't know this man before me.

"I won't repeat myself, pet."

My eyes met his. "I want to keep my boxers on."

His eyebrow twitched. "Ask for it properly. May I please keep my boxers on, sir?"

I squirmed, his harsh tone plucking at the chords of lust tied around my guts. Still a brat, "May I please keep my boxers on, daddy?"

I watched him take a deep breath. His voice was shaking, "Yes, pet."

I slowly shouldered off my jacket, leaving the crumpled coat on the floor. I hiked my shirt steadily over my head, revealing my scars and my chest. I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down my legs. I peeled off my socks.

"Fold your clothes and set them on the bench there." He pointed to the bench above the cabinet. I rolled my eyes secretly as I knelt down to gather the pile of clothes on the floor. "Acknowledge my commands, pet."

"Yes, daddy." I set the clothes on the bench and set about folding them.

I felt him behind me. He took a fist of my hair and pain erupted on my scalp. He yanked my head back as my eyes watered. His other hand clutched my jaw. He spoke against my cheek, "Roll your eyes at me again, Danny, and you will not enjoy the punishment I give you."

Fuck, he saw me. I tested the waters, "Are you sure about that, Daddy?"

"I've had years to learn your habits. Just like I know you detest laundry, especially folding clothes."

"What is this a punishment for then, Daddy?"

"Acknowledge my commands. Use my title. I expect obedience." He released me. He let me finish folding before stating his next order, "Go to the left armoire and open it. There is a black suede flogger hanging on the door. Bring it to me."

"Yes, daddy." I did as he said, finding a whole collection of floggers, crops and whips in the armoire. There were even paddles and a cane. He just said flogging tonight but I wondered if he would use all of these on me. That cane looked particularly vicious being a solid heavy metal rod with a handle. I found the rather tame-looking soft flogger and took it to Cyrus.

"Touch the falls. Feel their weight. I'm going to hit you with them, baby." The suede was soft but heavy, the thin strips threading in my fingers. "This flogger is more like a thud against your skin rather than a sting. I hope you like it." There was a reverence to his voice I couldn't place. "Go over to the cross, baby."

Excitement skipped through my veins, along with nerves. I stepped to the wooden cross, murmuring my acknowledgment. He asked then, "Would you like me to flog your back, chest, ass or thighs?"

I didn't want to take off my boxers yet, still a little nervous about that. I always hated my chest until I got top surgery. Now I hated my scars, instead. "Chest."

"Ask properly, pet."

"Please flog my chest, daddy." My voice shrilled with anticipation.

Cyrus adjusted the height of the cuffs and placed my wrists in them to stretch out my arms and torso. He took the flogger from me. He ran his hand down my ribs, giving me bumps and making me shudder. He thumbed the neat scar under my pectoral, making me avert my gaze.