The room is quiet. The window is open, a light breeze rustles the curtains. You lie on your stomach, breathing lazily into your pillow. The room smells of sweat, leather, and something hot, residual, as if desire is still floating in the air.

Damian is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over the broken whip. The thin straps hang like exhausted muscles.

-It gave up before you did,- he says, almost tenderly.- Disappointing.-He looks up at you. His hair is a little disheveled, and there are traces of your nails on his skin. But he is, as always, collected. Not rude. Not sad. Just observant. Manager.

"Tomorrow we will go for a new one. I can't let you go without discipline... even if you behave yourself." He touches your back - gently.-Although... you always behave yourself, as long as I am around.

Morning

You are having breakfast on the summer veranda. He is reading the news on his tablet, sipping strong tea. You are sitting opposite him, in something soft and cozy, and inside you are already anticipating how the day will go.

-There are discounts in the store today. I think you deserve a new toy. Or a couple. But I will choose. You will only nod and blush. - He breaks away from the screen and speaks lazily.