Hearing sounds wouldn’t have been enough. As Logan had said, she needed to see. But now, there was nothing to stop James screaming until his lungs exploded—hence the need for the soundproofing.

And the noises. They were just as arousing as the sights. Logan was letting loose the odd grunt and groan, and every now and again she heard a heavy exhalation of breath, as though he was breathing deeply. Exertion, or trying to keep a handle on his emotions and physical reactions? Possibly all of the above.

And, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to interrupt—far from it. She wanted to watch, and find out what happened next. Was this just some kinky pain thing, or would they have sex, too?

Continuing to drink in the supremely erotic sight before her, Fiona was lulled into a kind of trance by the repetitive motion of the blows Logan was laying on James. She had next to no knowledge about whipping or bondage, but she was learning on the fly. The most obvious thing was that both men were deeply into what they were doing.
Since she’d appeared in the doorway—though neither of them had acknowledged her presence, she sensed they knew she was there—Logan had gradually increased the force of his blows. Probably he hadn’t wanted James to make too much noise until she saw for herself what was happening.

With a regularity of rhythm clearly born of practice, he brought the strings down on James’ backside with a thwack. Then again, and again. Not just on his bottom, either. Blows landed on his shoulders, his sides, his back, his thighs. His skin was pink and fast turning red.

As the pieces of the jigsaw in Fiona’s head fit together with a resounding clunk, she found that, once again, although some questions had been answered, what was unfolding right before her eyes raised many more. Ones she knew wouldn’t be answered for a while yet.

After all, it couldn’t possibly be good manners to interrupt someone getting whipped in order to assuage one’s curiosity, could it?

As her brain processed the information her eyes were feeding to it, several emotions hit her at once—understanding, relief, confusion, surprise…and arousal.

Frozen to the spot, unable and, if she was honest, unwilling to move, Fiona watched, open-mouthed, as James and Logan’s so-called nefarious activity played out right in front of her. Only it wasn’t nefarious at all. It was beautiful, stunning, and knicker-wettingly hot. So hot it probably should have been illegal…but definitely wasn’t.
James was naked, face down on the large bed, his arms and legs spread, each limb bound to the nearest corner post using what looked like black silky rope. Logan loomed over him, also naked, with an ominous-looking black whip thing in his hand. It had a thick handle, with lots of stringy pieces coming out of it.