Yes.

He lashes your helpless body randomly, across your breasts, your belly, your rump, your pussy. The blows fall with no pattern, each one coming as a separate shock as you writhe in your bonds and struggle for control.

You sob with despair as you feel yourself losing the battle for self control, the orgasmic pressure building. You desire more than anything else to give up the struggle, let the waves of pleasure engulf you, but you fear more than anything else what will happen if you do. You fear that your Master will abandon you, discard you, cast you aside.

That thought is more than you can bear, and from somewhere you gather the strength to hold off the demanding urgency of orgasm just a little longer as you sob and writhe in your chains, your nipples and pussy on fire from the compression of the clamps, your ass full of sensual pleasure from the thickness of the plug.

Suddenly, the flogging stops. You can see him in the mirror standing behind you, holding the flogger, his eyes roaming over your body. You're whimpering with pain and need, biting your lip to control yourself.

You see him smile and feel a surge of happiness that he is pleased with you. He reaches out a hand and gently strokes your back, making you quiver and desperately suppress the need to come.

"Good girl," he says quietly. "Good girl."