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on beating David in this ferocious way until the pain that was lacing through him was overwhelming. He felt as if his agonized body was on fire and he began whimpering, he couldn’t help himself.
    â€˜No whimpering,’ Isabella admonished calmly from behind him. ‘You must make a different noise. I know you want to be beaten. Well, sound as if you want it.’ And with that she brought the whip down with extra savagery on his backside. David did his very best to do as he’d been instructed, moaning orgasmically in response to the savage lash.
    Isabella brought the whip down again and he made the orgasmic sound once more. Another lash, harsher still, and David moaned orgasmically again. Another blow, and another, fell on his body, leaving deep lacerations on his skin. With each increasingly savage blow, David’s cries came louder and more orgasmic.
    Isabella continued to rain down lashing blows until his back and rear were scored with livid red weals and he was in searing pain that also felt like the most exquisite pleasure; it was amazing. David felt the blood roaring through his body; his heart hammering; his head thundering; his shaft throbbing. Then he stopped feeling pain, stopped feeling pleasure. This was neither pain nor pleasure any longer. Isabella had taken him somewhere else, taken him to some other place where all boundaries of pain and pleasure had dissolved. It was a place he’d never been to before … and it was paradise.
    David began to shudder without control. He closed his eyes and his mind darkened for a second and then imploded with glittering flashes of colour. He opened his eyes and let out yet another orgasmic cry that this time became a self-fulfilling prophecy as, delirious with ecstasy, he ejaculated spasm after spasm of creamy come that splattered onto the polished oak floor beneath him.
    â€˜Get on your knees and lick that up,’ Isabella ordered harshly, putting the whip to one side. ‘Lick up every last drop of your spilled come and swallow it all down.’ Which he did, wallowing in the degradation, the delicious humiliation of what he was doing at her command.
    â€˜Stand up and face me,’ she said when David had finished, and he did.
    â€˜You are always to address me as ‘Mistress’ from now on,’ Isabella ordered, her dark eyes reaching for his and holding them, vice-like.
    â€˜Yes, Mistress,’ David replied with a gasp, thinking ecstatically: This is so wonderful, this is what I want.
    â€˜And don’t you ever dare to be late for an appointment with me again,’ Isabella added. ‘You are always to do exactly what your Mistress tells you to do without exception. Understood, slave ?’
    â€˜Yes, Mistress,’ David replied, thrilled beyond all expression at what she had just called him.

Chapter Six
    David realised that none of this would ever have happened if he hadn’t accepted his invitation to Matthew King’s dinner party. David didn’t go in for dinner parties and would never have contemplated hosting one himself. Indeed, although he was handsome and charismatic and exceptionally highly sexed and had experienced a string of raunchy affairs for those very reasons, David was essentially antisocial. When he received the invitation his natural instinct was to decline it.
    But Matthew was David’s oldest and his best friend even if they saw relatively little of one another these days. As good-looking as David and as blond as he was dark haired, Matthew’s most striking feature was his eyes, which were pale blue like a tropical lagoon. You could fall into his eyes they were so blue. He also had an attractive crooked grin and was generally something of a charmer. But what of the man beneath that appealing exterior? Matthew was a great guy, in David’s view. He was generous, open, intelligent and sensitive. He was also very reliable. He’d never let David down in the past –