What followed was an endless number of sickening cracks as the whip made contact with Leo’s flesh. Eternity passed and then circled in on itself before he howled in pain, as if he’d held it all in, fighting through the misery until he couldn’t take it any longer. And from there, the sounds got worse—the cracks and screams mixed together into an unholy symphony. Faith hadn’t once imagined he could ever be anyone’s victim, the tormented instead of the tormentor.

She wanted to make it stop, but if she interrupted, he might punish her. The thought of the whip across her own back made her stomach turn. Crack. Scream. Crack. Scream. Like a horror movie. Each time he screamed, Faith prayed this would be the last time, but it kept going.

Until there was only the sobbing of a broken man.

“Have you had enough?” she asked, sounding weary.

“It’ll never be enough for what I did,” he choked out.

“What did you do?”

“It’s personal. It doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t do any more without doing damage you might not recover from, and I’m not that kind of sadist,” she said. “I don’t care what you say, you might not be getting sexual pleasure out of it, but there are fewer things more masochistic than what you asked for tonight.”

“I knew it wouldn’t erase it, but I had to try.”

“Do you need me to call a doctor? Someone discreet?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“So the cliché is true,” she said. “Doctors make the worst patients.”

Faith realized suddenly that she’d been crying, and belatedly tried to muffle the sound, but Leo must have heard that she’d disobeyed. And she couldn’t leave him down there like this. Alone and injured and helpless.

“You can go,” he said. His voice was weak when he spoke, as if it took the last of his life force to form the words. “Demetri has your check.”

“Are you sure I can’t call someone for you?” Her voice had gone softer, all honey and concern now.

“Just go, please,” he said. “And thank you.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t fix anything.”

“There was no other way.”

“You’re Catholic. There’s confession.”

He made a disgusted sound. “A few Hail Marys and Our Fathers? A promise to be a good boy from now on? Not for this. I couldn’t even make myself say I was sorry.”

Faith didn’t bother trying to hide when she heard those high-heeled leather boots making their way up the stairs. When the dominatrix reached her, understanding flashed across her face. Then she was gone.

* * *

Music drifted up the stairs. That same damned record. He was torturing himself with it. Faith wanted to burn it so he couldn’t play it again. The music was vile and evil, and shouldn’t be heard by the good people of the world.

“I know you’re there.” His voice faltered as it tripped over words like some drunken sailor.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she gasped and the tears came harder. He sat on a piece of bondage furniture, naked, his back to her. The whip had cut him into strips of so much meat. Ribbons. Blood. She was surprised he’d kept consciousness. “Why would you do this?”