I find it especially telling when we go out to eat, something we do quite a bit.“I get tired of my own cooking, okay?” he told me.“Well, just so...you know,” I countered, “I think you cook good, and I’m NOT tired of it, so if you think you need to go out just to feed me, you’re wrong again.”“Again?” he looked at me, raising an eyebrow.“Yes, friend, again. I’ve come to understand that in the realm of hardware, you’re a very reliable source of correct information, but when it comes to what it takes. ‘If you will follow me, I will take you to where you can await the Duchess’s arrival.’ He turned and I followed him through the house, again catching sight of the shadowed figure watching me from the second floor, but it was gone before I could look. The butler, as I assumed the man to be, guided me into a room set with a small table and two chairs. He poured me some wine in a delicate silver goblet and held it out to me. After casting a spell to check for spells and poisons, I took it, sipping. Watched him exchange his single thong whip for a short one of many short thongs. Marius caught his eye and nodded, submitting to the blow on the inside of his spread thigh. And then to a second on the other thigh. Blood pounded in his erection.The soldier went behind him and whipped each buttock with the multi-thonged whip. Yes! Yes! welled up in Marius’ consciousness. Then the soldier whipped his back and chest and abdomen. When would he get to his shaft??Finally the soldier lashed him twice. He stared into the candle stub, its flame flickering smokily as he recalled the afternoon’s entertainment.A new play at The Rose, particularly for an avid playgoer, was something to look forward to in itself. Moreover, a work by such a talent as the brilliantly wayward Christopher Marlowe would be enticement for the most jaded palate and was the talk of London. Simon had gone forth from his home in Bankside that afternoon with a sense of great anticipation.He made his way amongst the bustling.